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littlelovelyspiderling · 2 years

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Meeting The Real You (Chapter 4)

Chapter 1 -- Chapter 2 -- Chapter 3 -- Chapter 4 -- Chapter 5 -- Chapter 6 -- Chapter 7 -- Chapter 8

Peter Parker can't wait to meet the newest superhero team to enter the scene: The Fantastic Four. More importantly, he can't wait to finally meet another superhero his age: 16-year-old Johnny Storm, aka the Human Torch.

That is, until he does. And Johnny turns out to be a grade-A dick.

But maybe there's more to Johnny than Peter initially thought. Maybe he's not just an egotistical media star, or a short-tempered hothead, or an alarmingly pretty face who makes Peter's pulse race. Maybe they have more in common than they realize.

And maybe this feeling that overwhelms Spider-Man anytime Johnny is around isn't jealousy after all...

word count: 4,500

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Peter’s ears were still ringing as he walked past the long rows of lockers to find Johnny pacing along the back wall, wisps of smoke trailing off his back. The door to the locker room slammed shut behind him, trapping the two teenagers inside. Peter could scarcely imagine a worse scenario: locked in a cramped space that smelled like gym socks with an explosive hothead who hated his guts. He watched the Human Torch stride back and forth a few minutes longer before huffing irritably, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Look, did I do or say something to you that made you decide to loathe me with every fiber of your being since we first made eye contact? Because I genuinely don’t understand why you hate me so much. Is it really because of the stuff you’ve heard about me from Jameson? Are you a die-hard Bugler or something?”

Johnny ignored him, continuing his steadfast patrol between the two pillars that flanked the room. Spider-Man sighed, crossing his arms against his chest.

“Please enlighten me as to why you’re so privy to the ‘despise Spider-Man’ club. Is it the way I talk? My spider-themed aesthetic? Are you arachnophobic? Or do you really just hate everything and everyone within a ten feet radius?”

“I don’t hate you!” Johnny suddenly blurted out, whirling on him. “This has nothing to do with you, okay?”

Peter frowned, caught off guard. “What has nothing to do with me? Your terrible personality?”

The Human Torch slowed to a stop, the smoke billowing off his shoulder blades gradually dissipating. His ferocious scowl fell, replaced by a look of excruciating grief. “I just—I don’t want to be here right now,” he said. His voice began to break. “This isn’t w-where I’m supposed to be right now.”

Peter was surprised to see an emotion besides uncontrollable rage overwhelm Johnny’s expression. To his disbelief, actual tears started welling in his eyes and slipping down his cheeks. Johnny dropped against the back wall and slid to the floor, burying his face in his hands, sniffling quietly and wiping frantically at the tears dripping off his chin.

Peter didn’t know what he was expecting, but it definitely wasn’t this. Despite all the ways Johnny had insulted him and pissed him off, he found he couldn’t stay furious with him when he looked so broken and hurt. After a moment of hesitation, Peter traipsed across the room to stand at Johnny’s side, leaving a generous amount of space between them. He carefully sat down next to him, folding his hands in his lap as Johnny pressed the heels of his hands into his puffy eyes. Peter gave him a minute to calm down a little before speaking.

“Is there somewhere else you’re supposed to be right now?” he asked delicately. Johnny licked his lips, voice wobbling.

“I don’t want to talk to you about this,” he said. There was no bite to his tone, though—only sadness.

“Okay,” Peter replied. He criss-crossed his legs, staring at the floor. A dead roach was curled into a ball between his feet, and he flicked it across the room. He considered his next words carefully. “I think you know by now I’m a very proficient talker. But I’m actually a really good listener, too. I never judge, and I’m great at keeping secrets. In case you were wondering.”

Johnny hugged his legs to his chest, his face blotchy and tear-stained. It was the first time Peter had looked at the fire-themed hero and seen him for what he truly was—a boy, a kid, just like him. For once, he actually looked his age, not a picture-perfect Dolce and Gabbana model.

“You don’t have to say anything. I just thought you should know. Y’know, like—if you ever changed your mind or something.”

“Oh my god,” Johnny groaned, dropping the back of his head against the wall. “You really never shut up, do you?”

“Nope.”

Johnny took a deep breath, running his hands under his eyes. He swallowed thickly.

“Maryland.”

Peter turned to face him, blinking in surprise. “Maryland?” he repeated back.

“Glennville, Maryland. That’s where I’m supposed to be right now.”

“Is…that where you live?” he ventured cautiously.

“Not anymore. It’s where I grew up.” He rested his chin on his knees, eyes distant and glassy. “Me, Sue, and my…and Mom.”

Spider-Man listened quietly, his words nicking his heart. The death of Johnny Storm’s mother was a well documented aspect of his history. News anchors and tabloid writers alike were a little too eager to plaster the tragedy across every column and featurette involving Johnny’s life, sensationalizing his pain for their viewers’ consumption. It was easy to forget she was once a real woman with children she loved. Children who still missed her tremendously.

“We’ve gone back every year since she died,” Johnny continued, anger reclaiming his voice. “Every year, except this one. We make a whole trip out of it. We spend the entire week visiting all of her favorite places. The diner, the dog park, the plant shop, the pier. Even the ice cream parlor that got turned into a bank three years ago. Sue and I made a promise that no matter where we were in life, we’d always go back to honor her. By turning the week we lost her into a week of celebrating her life.”

A fresh wave of tears streamed down his face, dripping onto his knees. His hands were trembling along with his voice.

“But now that Sue has powers and her stupid ex-boyfriend back, suddenly, she doesn’t want to go anymore. Suddenly, after becoming famous and posing for Vogue and being invited to stay with the Avengers the same week as our trip, it’s okay if we skip it this year. Why keep dwelling in the past when life is so much better now?”

He pulled his legs in closer, gripping both of his arms by the elbows, cycling shaky breaths through his lungs. His muscles were tensed, every part of him pointing inward, like he was trying to shrink into himself. Peter wanted to comfort him somehow, but thought it best to keep his distance and let him speak.

“She’s changed so much since becoming ‘The Invisible Woman.’ She’s like a completely different person. All she cares about anymore is getting as many people to like her as possible.” He stared at the floor between his feet, narrowing his eyes. “It’s like…like she thinks we’ll both just forget how shitty our childhoods were if she can get enough people to love us. Like we can bury the past under a mountain of photo shoots and fan mail. Like if the whole world adores us, maybe it’ll fill the void that losing Mom left behind.”

The air around them felt heavy. Peter listened to Johnny in silence, a familiar ache tugging at his chest.

“I’ve changed, too,” Johnny added. He let his legs sprawl flat across the tile, holding his palms in front of his face. “Ever since I got these powers, I’ve just felt…angrier. The smallest, stupidest things set me off. My vision goes red, and I just want to burn everything I see to the ground.” Flames flickered off his fingertips, dancing like candles on a cake. “It’s…scary. I almost killed some people yesterday while chasing down Dragon Man, but I was so caught up in my own shit, I could barely bring myself to care. I don’t think I was like this before the space mission. I got angry a lot as a kid, but Mom was always able to calm me down.” He gazed hollowly at his shivering hands, letting the tiny wisps of fire shrink until they were completely extinguished. “I d-don’t understand what’s happening to me. I’m grateful for my abilities, and I know I want to use them to help people, but…”

He met Peter’s gaze suddenly, his expression bleak. “What if my powers are turning me evil?”

A stroke of sympathy brushed his heart. Peter turned his body towards his, scooting the teensiest bit closer to him.

“They’re not turning you evil,” he assured him. “I promise. It’s just…all your life, you’ve wanted the power to right the wrongs done to you. Now that you have it, it can feel a bit overwhelming. Terrifying, even.” He lowered his gaze, worrying his thumbs in his lap. “When I first got my powers, someone I loved was murdered because I didn’t act when I should’ve. I went after the person who did it, and I…almost killed them. I wanted to kill them. And I very easily could’ve.”

As he spoke, Peter watched a stray tear trickle down Johnny’s face. Johnny brushed it away before it could reach his jawline. He stared at Spider-Man intently, a whisper of fear in his eyes.

“I scared myself that day. I realized just how destructive I could be if I wanted to. These powers come with an enormous responsibility that I have to respect every time I use them. If I ever lose sight of that, I could wind up doing a lot more harm than good.”

Johnny swallowed, glancing down at his hands with a pained but thoughtful expression. Peter leaned forward and tapped Johnny’s palm with his index finger.

“I believe superpowers enhance everything inside a person—including their emotions. And in your case, if you have a lot of righteous anger inside you, it’s going to enhance that, too.”

“It doesn’t feel righteous,” Johnny sniffled. “It feels….spiteful. Unwarranted.”

“But it doesn’t have to be. You can channel that anger into protecting others from injustice. The kind of protection you deserved when you were a kid.”

Johnny considered his words for a moment, chewing his inner lip. Spider-Man shifted so he was sitting on top of his shins.

“I remember what those first few months with powers are like. I felt the same way you did. Like everything inside me was so much louder and more intense than it used to be. I was scared I wouldn’t be able to control it. But I promise it gets easier. Every aspect of it does. The fear, the uncertainty, and the anger, too.”

The Human Torch gazed at him curiously, wiping his cheeks with his sleeves. It was nice to be able to share his experiences with another young superhero, help them feel less crazy and lost. This was probably the first time Peter had been on the “giving” side of this kind of conversation rather than the receiving one.

“How long have you had your powers?” Johnny asked him.

Peter gazed at the ceiling in thought. “A little under two years, I think.”

“What’s been the hardest part for you to get used to?”

Spider-Man giggled. “Probably trying to juggle high school and regular life and superhero-ing all at the same time. I’ve never been good at multitasking.”

Johnny’s eyes widened, brows shooting towards his hairline. “You—you’re in high school, too?”

Peter winced internally. Should he have kept that to himself? It wasn’t common knowledge how young he actually was. But it felt right to say it. He wanted Johnny to know he wasn’t alone in his struggles.

“Yeah,” he admitted eventually, a sheepish smile finding his lips. “I wasn’t planning on telling you this, but…we’re actually the same age.”

“Oh my god,” Johnny whispered, blinking in disbelief. “Seriously?”

“Most people don’t know that, though. Other heroes treat me differently when they figure it out, as I’m sure you’ve experienced, so I prefer to keep it under wraps.”

Johnny scoffed incredulously, struggling to process the new information. “I get that,” he said. Then he frowned. “Wait…if you’re sixteen now, how old were you when you got your powers?”

Peter scratched the back of his neck. “Okay…technically fourteen, but I turned fifteen, like, really soon after.”

Johnny gawked at him. “Holy shit,” he exclaimed. “That young?”

Spider-Man nodded. “It was definitely a major adjustment. I spent the first couple months breaking every door handle I touched and sticking to everything. Not the most heroic of beginnings.”

Johnny tilted his head to the side. “If you don’t mind me asking,” he began hesitantly, “how did you get your powers?”

Peter flexed his fingers inside his skin-tight suit. “I don’t fully understand what happened,” he admitted. “I got bit by a really weird spider, and woke up the next morning with spider-themed abilities. To this day, I still don’t know where it came from, or why it gave me superpowers.”

Johnny looked at him in a way that made Peter’s skin prickle. Like he could see his face through his mask if he stared hard enough.

“In hindsight, I probably should’ve gone to the hospital,” Peter chuckled. “I felt like I was dying. My hand swelled to the size of a softball. But I knew we could never afford an ER visit, so…”

He trailed off, drawing circles in the dust on the floor with his finger. Johnny stared at him with flicker of newfound interest in his eyes.

“Do your parents know you’re Spider-Man? Do they, like, approve of it?”

Peter swallowed. He’d never talked about this with anyone who only knew him as Spider-Man, not Peter Parker.

“My, um…my parents died when I was really little. Plane crash. Freak accident. I barely even remember them.”

Johnny’s mouth fell open slightly. “Oh,” he said, eyes clouding over. “I’m sorry. That’s…awful.” He gazed at his feet, scrunching up his brow. “So, then…who raised you? Were you adopted by the Avengers or something?”

Peter broke into a laugh. “No, no,” he snickered. “My aunt and uncle did. They took me in and cared for me like I was their own. They’ve always been like parents to me—more so than my real ones.” He brushed his hands off on his legs. “It was only recently my aunt found out I’m Spider-Man. She was shocked at first, but she fully supports me. Sometimes to an embarrassing and patronizing degree.”

Johnny smiled softly. “She sounds nice,” he said. Peter didn’t recall ever seeing him smile in person until now. It was a good look on him.

“Your sister took care of you after you lost your parents, right?” Peter recalled hesitantly.

Johnny’s smile fell as quickly as it appeared. He turned away, scowling at the floor.

“She tried. She was only seventeen when Mom died, eighteen when my dad was put away. Still just a kid herself.” He sighed somberly. “I know she did the best she could, given the circumstances. I can’t imagine raising me was easy. But…”

Johnny sucked his lips to his teeth, fighting to keep his voice level. “I feel like being forced to care for me has made her resent me a little bit. She had to grow up so fast and miss out on so many things ‘cuz of me, y’know? And I can’t really blame her for it.”

Peter shook his head. “From what I’ve seen, I don’t think that’s true. I think she really loves you. Every time she talks about you on the news or in interviews, she only ever says positive things.”

“Have you seen the way she talks about me when there aren’t cameras around?” he grumbled. “Ninety percent of our interactions nowadays are arguments.”

“If I’ve learned anything from Disney Channel made-for-TV movies, that’s how the majority of siblings interact.”

Johnny snorted, crossing his legs at the ankles. “I’m guessing you don’t have any?”

“No. I wish I did, though.”

“No, you don’t. They’re nagging pains in the ass who try to control everything you do and shut down everything you say. All Sue cares about is how others see us, not what either of us actually wants.”

Peter shrugged. “I think she’s just trying to protect you. If the whole world loves you, no matter what happens, you’ll always have a support system in place.” He gestured towards himself with his thumb. “Take it from a guy with no PR-savvy older sister whose rep has been raked through the mud: she’s doing you a huge favor. It makes sense why she wants you all to stay away from me; shitty reputation tends to be contagious.”

Johnny stared off to the side, narrowing his eyes in thought. “I guess…”

“My aunt nags me, too,” Peter continued. “She seems hellbent on nitpicking every little thing I do wrong—both as Spider-Man and her nephew.” He smiled, leaning back against the wall. “But as much as it drives me crazy, I know she’s just trying to keep me safe, and push me to become the best version of myself.”

The Human Torch huffed and rolled his eyes. “You’re annoyingly committed to seeing the good in people, you know that?”

“Mr. Stark says it’s my fatal flaw,” Spider-Man giggled.

Johnny inhaled and exhaled slowly, drawing his legs back to his chest. He folded his arms on top of his knees, avoiding Peter’s gaze. “I’m…” he began, grimacing a little, his cheeks dusting pink. “I’m sorry I’ve been such an asshole these past few days. Sue just—she makes me so mad, and I took it out on you. She and the others always gang up on me. They tell me I’m selfish and dramatic, that I should be grateful for the chance to be here. And the thing is, I would be. On any other occasion, I would be. It’s just—why this week?” His eyes began to water again, despite his efforts to blink the tears away. “Today was supposed to be the last day of our trip, and I just…”

The Human Torch swallowed, hiding his face behind his arms, unable to conjure the right words. Peter watched him for a moment, heart stinging in his chest, then lifted his hand and gently rested it on his shoulder. He waited for him to flinch or pull away. He didn’t.

“It’s okay,” he told him. “I understand.”

They sat in silence for a while. Peter grabbed Johnny some tissues so he could wipe his eyes and blow his nose. A few minutes passed before either of them spoke again.

“God, this is embarrassing,” Johnny groaned, burning another handful of tissues in his fist. “At this rate, I’m going to have to change my name to the Human Waterfall.”

Peter giggled, scooting the box closer to him. “I think Johnny ‘Storm’ kinda already fits the theme.”

As the waterworks ebbed once again, Spider-Man returned to his side, choosing his next words carefully.

“This trip is obviously really important to you,” he said. “Have you considered just…going by yourself? Without Sue?”

Johnny’s eyebrows furrowed together as he snatched another tissue from the box. “I guess not,” he admitted. “Neither of us have ever gone without each other. It’s always been our thing.”

“If you wanted to, I could cover for you. Your sister already hates me, so I’m fine taking the heat. Or…” He hesitated, unsure if he was crossing a line, warmth rising into his cheeks. “I could, y’know. Come with you.”

Johnny turned to look at him, blinking his grayish-blue eyes. “You…” he stuttered, gripping his knees a little tighter. “You’d really do that?”

“Of course. If you want. Not sure how we’d get there, but—we could figure something out. Maybe pull a web-swinging, fire-flying all-nighter.”

Johnny stared at him in silence a little longer, mulling the proposal over in his mind. After a minute, he turned his gaze forward with his lips against his knees, palms clasped around his ankles.

“Thanks,” he finally responded, voice brittle. “But, um…I can’t. It wouldn’t feel right, going without her.”

Spider-Man nodded. “I understand.”

Johnny blew his nose again and added the dirty tissues to his growing ash pile. He relaxed somewhat, letting his muscles unravel, and turned to Peter with a halfhearted smile.

“You were right,” Johnny decided, voice quiet.

Peter felt himself blush a little. “About what?” he asked.

“You are a good listener.”

The warmth in his face bled down his neck all the way into his toes. He chuckled bashfully, stretching his arms above his head.

“Good listener, great communicator, and an ass that won’t quit. Am I the whole package or what?”

This time, Johnny burst out laughing—a boisterous, radiant sound that made Peter’s heart skip a beat. About damn time, Peter thought, mirroring his wide grin. He’d been trying to get a laugh out of him since their first encounter. It had taken longer than expected, but was well worth the wait. He vowed to do his best to hear it more often.

Spider-Man laughed along with him, the bubbly sound echoing back at them off the walls. It was a moment of shared bliss that felt rejuvenating and silly and right. Peter could’ve stayed suspended in it for a lot longer than it actually lasted.

As their giggles tapered off, Peter gave Johnny a playful nudge. “Can we start over?” he asked earnestly. “When I heard you and your team were coming to visit Avengers tower, I was so excited. Like, embarrassingly excited. I thought, ‘Wow! Finally! Another teenage superhero for me to bond with and rant to.’ As fun as it is hanging out with the Avengers, they’re all just so old.”

Johnny snickered. “True. I’m sorry I was so hostile towards you. You didn’t deserve it.” He smiled shyly at his feet. “Thanks for giving me a second chance. It’s nice to know I’m not the only superhero out here reppin’ Gen Z amongst all these goddamn grandpas.”

Spider-Man snorted. “For real. If I have to explain what TikTok is one more time…”

Johnny bumped his shoulder against Peter’s, making him look up in surprise. “You know, you’re a lot different than I imagined, Spidey.”

Peter cracked a smile. “How so?”

“I mean—there’s so much negative gossip out there about you. I thought you’d be some creepy, cynical recluse who drank bug juice and lived in a cave or something. But you’re actually really nice. Obnoxiously chatty and optimistic, but nice.”

Peter chuckled, scratching the back of his head. “Um, thank you? I think?”

“Thanks for letting me rant to you for a bit,” Johnny said quietly, poking at the pile of ash between them. “I…think I really needed it.”

Spider-Man nodded, voice softening. “Of course,” he replied. “Anytime.”

Johnny gazed around the locker room, a wrinkle forming between his eyebrows. “So…are we, like, trapped in here? Or is there another way we can get out?”

Peter stared ahead and blinked. “Oh. Right. Good question.” He stood and walked to the door at the end of the row of lockers. It was still shut, but a red button on the wall beside it was flashing. Puzzled, Peter clicked it with his thumb.

“Hello? Can we get out now, please?”

“Mr. Stark instructed me not to let either of you out until you both had calmed down,” Friday answered from the speaker. “Unless you began trying to kill each other again. Are you done trying to kill each other?”

“Yes, Friday,” Spider-Man deadpanned, rolling his eyes.

“Spectacular,” she said. A second later, the door clunked open, blessing Peter with the gift of non-gym-socky air.

“Freedom!” Peter called to Johnny. The Human Torch hopped to his feet and followed him out of the locker room. They stepped back into the wide arena, which was now empty.

“Both of our teams just left us in there?” Johnny scoffed. “Rude.”

A loud jingle chimed from Peter’s phone. He pulled it out of his pocket and stared at the screen. FEED MARSHMALLOW, the reminder stated, typed out in all caps. Whoops, Peter thought, shutting off the alarm. He was pet sitting for a neighbor in their complex who’d gone with May to the conference. He needed to swing by the apartment and give Marshmallow the cat her dinner. And also maybe water the plants he’d promised May he would keep alive.

“Is that the mayor? You gotta spring into action?” Johnny joked.

Peter glanced up from the screen. “Huh? Oh, heh, no.” He stuffed his phone back in his pocket. “I’m, uh, cat sitting. And plant sitting. And doing a terrible job at both. I gotta run.”

Johnny giggled. “Spider-Man—cat sitting? How come you never see stories like that making headlines?”

Peter laughed and shrugged. “No one wants to hear about that kind of stuff. Even if they did, Jonah would find a way to spin it into some crazy conspiracy theory about Spider-Man eating kittens to satisfy his bloodlust or some shit.”

“Jesus,” Johnny said, grimacing. “That guy seriously sucks.”

“Yeah. I try not to let it bother me.” Peter took a step towards him, changing his tone. “So, um, are you good? Or better, at least?” He gripped his forearm uneasily. “I’m…really sorry about your mom. I can’t imagine how hard this week has been for you. If there’s anything I can do to help—”

“I’m okay,” Johnny assured him. He looked towards the stairs, a somber smile lifting the corners of his lips. “I think I’ll spend the evening visiting my mom’s favorite spots in New York. She brought me here a lot as a kid, so I remember most of them.”

Peter smiled and gave a small nod. “That sounds like a great idea.”

Exhaling slowly, Johnny lit himself off fire and lifted off the ground. “Thanks for the pep talk, Spidey,” he said, throwing Peter a flirty wink. “See ya around, yeah?” Then he flew past him and zipped up the winding stairwell, disappearing in a rush of smoke and flame.

Dude knows how to exit in style, that’s for sure, Spider-Man thought, watching the smoke slowly dissipate into nothing. He was happy they had cleared the air between them, and perhaps paved the way for a potential friendship. Johnny seemed like a nice person he’d just happened to catch on the worst possible week. Now that they’d talked through the conflict and learned more about one another, Peter anticipated their future interactions to be far more congenial.

So why did being around him still make him so nervous?

Was it because he was famous? Not likely. Peter interacted with famous people all the time. And though his encounters with them often left him starstruck, this felt different.

Maybe he was…jealous? That had been his initial theory, and it made sense; Johnny was insanely attractive. He had that effortlessly voluminous hair and a sculpture-like bone structure paired with those dark, magnetizing eyes…

Why else would he be paying so much attention to his features and feeling this way?

Spider-Man shook his head and trotted down the stairs. Envy is not a good color on you, Pete, he scolded himself. Makes your brain act all wonky. Best to just push it aside and focus on earning Johnny’s friendship. You don’t want to let whatever this is ruin your chances of being friends with him, do you?

Jealousy. That was all this was. Absolutely nothing to worry about. He could get over these ridiculous emotions for the sake of their friendship. Easy-peasy.

#spider-man #spideytorch #peter parker x johnny storm #peter parker #spiderman fanfiction #johnny storm #my writing #bi peter parker #fantastic 4 #fantastic four

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ambrosialips · 1 year

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It's been about an year since you left me. You said you needed time, that you realised that you never gave yourself time after your last relationship, but we both know that you've healed whatever shit your ex left you with and you didn't need me anymore .

It's been about an year since you left me. I cut my hair really short in march and left little braids in front to put beads on them. I cut off that toxic friend that I've told you about, I don't think I've ever felt this free before. I know how to take care of my curly hair now. I still feel embarrassed looking back on that summer night when I texted and called you drunk. I hated you for months, I don't think I've ever hated anyone as much before. With everyday that'd pass I'd realise just how much you used me, and how stupid I was, and yet I still cried over you. I tried to talk to you when things were presumably alright between us. I feel embarrassed and ashamed for trying, after using me you didn't need me anymore, that's common sense. I got closer to the friends I told you about. I finally went to a psychiatrist and I'm on medication. I think I'm finally alright, and that I'm finally happy. You scarcely cross my mind , but when you do I feel some sort of resentment towards you that I want to let go. I want to let go of you for good. I want you to become a memory that only comes to the surface when I'm talking about shitty exes with new people, just a storytime for when I need a laugh with somebody. I don't want you to be a person to me anymore.

It's been almost an year since you left me. When you did, you said that we were the right people at the wrong time , and maybe we'd be together in the future. You never good at lieing. You apologise for hurting me and tried to tell me that I wasn't a rebound, but we both know what happened. You said that you've been doing better, that you have new friends. You said that you stopped drinking, I hope you did, I'm not sure about it tho. I think some part of you enjoyed lieing even if you didn't realise it. You started smoking like a suicidal teen in a book about growing up, shitty friends and highschool would. I think you're dating someone new. I know you're dating someone new. He looks a lot like I did when we met, he lacks the Nativity that I did when I thought I made a genuine friend. He doesn't look as foolish as I would. You two have matching icons, I know it's a silly observation , but you always refused to have one with me , so in a weird and masochistic way, even after so many months I looked for him just to remind myself of how little I really meant for you. I hope you won't use him too. I hope you won't hurt him too.

It's been almost a 4 year since we met eachother. 3 years of being there for you , of helping you, of listening to you, of caring for you. It's been almost an year since we unmet eachother. I don't know why you hurt me so much, why it's so hard to forget you. Maybe it's because I never expected you to do it? Because you knew all the hurt I've been through and made me relive it? Because I trusted you? You seem unaffected tho, so I don't think you really cared. I hope you're happy. I think you are. It's not fair that you get to be happy. It's not fair that you get to be in love. It's not fair that you didn't get to hurt. It's not fair that I was nothing to you while you were everything to me. It's not fair that you're happy, but i hope that you are. I always hoped for that.

I think I might be stupid for that.

I'm sure I am stupid for that.

Maybe that's why I believed you.

I hope that I'll get to be in love while you'll be hurt. I think it's selfish. I think I might be selfish.

I'm not sure I want you to be happy.

#vent #dating #mlm #gay #gay mlm #heartbreak #nonbinary #feelings #break up #breakup #poetry #writing #articulated emotional vomit on my blog at 4 am because why not.#letting my thoughts out #spilled thoughts #thoughts

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jaddl · 2 years

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LOVE IT!

I woke up early this morning, before 6 am. Work stuff, kid’s sick, whatever. But then I couldn’t really get back to sleep. So I headed out to the bathroom, and on the way, I thought I’d check and see if I landed the New York Football Giants Defense and Special Teams unit that I’d put a waiver wire claim on the night before. Turned on my computer, and guess what? I did land those NY Football Giants![1]

But then I saw something else. And that something else is truly a top 5 moment for me this season. Ladies and Gentlemen, the Matt Ryan Week Seven OMFG Bidding War:

Ironically this all happened about 24 hours before the Moved On From Matt Ryan Bowl between Dan Romans and myself kicks off. As I am sure everyone remembers, I traded Michael Carter, RB for the Jets, for Matt Ryan after week 1.[2] But then I signed the Other Prince Who Was Promised Kenny Pickett ahead of Week 5, which caused me to bench Matt Ryan. And then I watched the Colts play the Broncos on TNF and saw the Corpse formally known as Matt Ryan actually play a football game. Frankly watching a Matt Ryan that I had just benched was one of the prouder moments I’ve had this year, because Matt Ryan looked like the worse QB in the league. He threw 0 TDs, 2 picks, got sacked 6 times, and fumbled twice. So I dropped Matt Ryan.

But then Matt Ryan dropped 31 points week 6. He was 42/58(!) for 389 yards and had 3 TDs and no interceptions last week against the Jags.[3]

The waiver wire is tough.[4] And QBs are scarce. Listen, the Mighty Boom started Skylar Thompson last week in a disaster. And the Falcons QB room makes Ian look like he’s a serial killer collecting the worst QBs in the NFL: He’s got Mac Jones, Cooper Rush and Justin Fields. He’s previously started Baker Mayfield, so Matty Ice would have been a big get for Ian. And you gotta play one QB, you kind of got to play two, right?

But Matt Ryan? I only really listen to one fantasy football podcast. And when they talked about streaming QBs this week, they mentioned Matt Ryan’s Jags line. And they said to pay no attention to that line, because they’ve seen Matt Ryan play football just like I have. It doesn’t mean anything.

Good luck Boom. Anyways, here are some things on Amazon I found that are much better uses for $569:[5]

[1] I need the Giants because the steady eddy D/St unit I’d signed a few weeks before (Fly Mighty Eagles Fly) are on a bye this week. I really like this Eagles unit and I really really don’t want to drop them. It’s always a struggle to fill out the bottom of your lineup, your TE, D, and K, and I think I’ve finally got the Jesus’s bottom all figured out: Ertz, Eagles & Buttkicker. But that puts me in IR roster hell. If James Connor (currently on IR and now officially questionable) is healthy, he’s gotta go in my starting 10 because BOTH Cooper Kupp and Justin Jefferson are on bye, and my only other two rostered wideouts (SHOUTOUT BERRIOS) are kind of emergency staring this week. James Connor is playing Thursday, along with Jameis Winston, also on my roster, maybe playing probably not but also probably not “out.” If Conner is ruled out before TNF I’m good, I can keep him in the IR, and move the Giants to the starting 10. But if he’s a go, I gotta both play him and cut somebody else. The decision gets much more difficult if Jameis is a go too and he starts. (Last week he was healthy enough to be a back-up a-la Teddy Two Gloves? WTF). Anyways, IR bye week stuff, amirite? Keep your eyes on my roster for updates to this ever-developing situation.

[2] BTW still kinda think I might of won that trade. Dano started Carter week 2, he score 10 points, but Carter hasn’t started for Dano since (scoring 5.6, 4.9, 17.3 on the bench). Meanwhile Breece Hall is the clear front runner in the Jets backfield. Matt Ryan started 3 games for me before getting dropped, and two of those starts were fairly effective: 17.5 in week 3 and 21.4 in week 4. He score 3 point fucking 8 points for me week 3. But if Carter never sees the field again for Dan, then I’m still counting this trade as a win for me.

[3] Another reason I went for the Giants, they’re playing the Jags, who finally look like a real Jags team.

[4] I paid over $200 for Taysom Hill (verses absolutely no one it turns out) only to cut him a week after, but then he goes off again, so Odouls pays over $400 for him, starts him, and he scores 4 points. Taysom Hill is a tough nut to crack.

[5] Dan signing Andy Dalton for free this morning as a free agent was the best move of the last 12 hours. There is, what, a better than even chance Andy Dalton scores more points than Matt Ryan this week?

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libidomechanica · 1 month

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“Grave men, near death, desire breeds flames best look, set down”

A kimo sequence

To our Theme. Due adoration, and being too, the brindled bitch, they are found himself a fool.

Grave men, near death, desire breeds flames best look, set down his shadows, with pleasures in Stellaes face.

Those hours, that blows; and love, and are asleep. But more fit to the milkweeds’ honey terrifies me.

A pocket-book and silver snowy sentences, the woody hollow door, which was beheaded.

Want of foolscap subject of time. Own backyard like a quest, a land of the forestalled, get opposite!

Ye scorn my low estate, and dim hopes and petals of a winters in the fault? Don Juan, carpe, carpe!

And teach through the clouds, as mortals, love you. They fled with zeal. Whose diapason knells on scrolls of jet.

To love her; and, like a hawk, an’ it winna let a body be. Of thanks me not through a white?

Hill of moss before a tower of custom. For many an envoy either leaf, the diamonds.

In these hills round thy bier. Nor coldly passe in this hour the sea, till the death, if she doth go.

To shield him coming, near, she is not a genius or under a wide hat, dancer, had kept hold.

And down to every vessel could be any man in any room. Most importune wheeled, and St.

When move in women are, or, one dream within be fed, with a modern we are betrayed by deeds.

I probably didn’t bother. I hate those lips of thread in thy heart, and sighing, thinking Stephen Hill.

Have been a-telling statues of the night. It’s jet, jet black, an’ it winna let a body be.

A pure smooth pearl and boxing; and he who must I: for what was as sure, who threatned strings do break.

’ Whose spirits of these flowers, once a whole mother in the full as deep and when there by the dead.

Breeds flames of battle move? Did I hear it half starved. It looks from the lamps, then dazled were his life.

On the higher views upon the rise again, fair Lesley, the heroes, kings. With a tighter clasp?

Fast wither’d at a distant heard by fate and thus, my Katie? Mark but the ecstasy of death.

They won’t or can’t allow the feathers fair, and, as the wild hill side. And the taste me thus, my Love!

She is near; ’ and thee! You may for ever; for Nature’s law. With what an even think that good night.

—And maun I still have plenty: so let it then as well at once might insinuations bothers.

They refuse to listens, I hear, I hear it half so sure the dormitory. Such play at all.

There stood: he passion. Slaves of endless charmed, the shadow, he pursues! Beyond siroccos harvest.

Softest, Russian or Castilian? Of all that can ail thee, as the graves unnumber’d lie; the rest.

And let go. Who watch’d to trace the Soul is, and judg’d aright, because thou art a scholar, Lycius!

” “Now whether to faint things, and there is Love. You, a sparrows sends; by that to his neck three were dead.

Beyond what other women is, the ceiling. Whether my eyes can believes me, maybe can tell.

Change to chlorophyll, and round himself extremely fair; the true! Of all her ills—a scattering.

Drew forth streams,—even they were hardly bear it. Kick off their beds and fussed around shall I awake!

Mark where I am! The lava ravish’d, scarce seen the Lady Carolines and Franceses?

Span of the main, and there. Each life unblest kisses had got out on Shooter’s Hill; and singing of.

It once be seen, and the third errand sent. Come live with light, although I despaire at me doth breathe?

The color of that ground, I though the Night by his belov’d repose? Thou art out of that he said.

Too subtle for a change, o yearning to me for that black, an’ it winna let a body be.

Or all, what name, for shells and virtue is a garden, flowers, footless and weep. And tumble pat.

On speed and fell into that eve, as twas the thread the sad attendants; then the extremely sick?

That dead sands flashing chariot, rolling of her hand: true to th’ ears in snow: seas shall die.

Pale grew her here incessantly by playing like this arm-chair? Though ye be, yet, lilies and play.

A high building and of mine. More children, talents other cantos of this ever-diverse pair!

And nobody calls the wolf rages wide, and yet the Border? I woke— and chide my honest man.

Times such whom all hoped to find, each in his happy valley they pale, as mortal fruit? If you see.

Eyes there; that she made; heaven raining gilt from some will know that can be done? No stream’d from your knees.

The soldier went for death, if she doth throw. What can be old, for his turf, and long tunes and love is.

The milliners who furnish drapery Misses? Might each more beauteous hill of moss, just half starved.

The brief for afford to the world,—which, though, we were black where you can even grace. In equal grew.

For ever trust beyond, I wish I have gone her cry, oh misery! And fair Lesley, return.

And let go. ’ So I shall be its named mount Pleasantly with her robes flaunted for so large a mind.

They say his system t is time would understand. Not, but shudder in the sun, but waxing thighs?

Again precipitate thy soul the sky and has a crust. Warmed, but never, never breed the must.

Of all Olympus’ faded hierarchy! The wife he sought of Platonic shades and trust their rents.

And withal, they sigh’d for want of my stout blood in a forests shook three A. My business were left.

” No, no: you would Wisdom be) shine opposite! Such miracle. And paid Where Chick Lorimer went.

To thy body’s weight of food and paid it. Car on this my purchaser suspect the daisies grow.

Wind into delight, light winds used to speak, ev’n from too wide and blinded rabbits, cows with surprise.

Fairer than on continent, because ye hae the hole, ’ would under the pile—make the might appal!

Like fog smothering darkness chariots hurl’d like Fairy Queen, the floor. But, trowth I care na by.

Of yonder weed took up the flower or henchman, oh Jack! See; but first thy heauy grace, the long weeks.

If merciful as your body’s end? For laik o’ gear ye lightly me, but, trowth, I care na by.

Or amber, but faire a vertue to every thing. Or a sail flung it from his swooning long you mine.

Bless you. In island dwelt a nymph, to whom I am confined doom. ’Er his future day—fond Thought!

Their average numeral; also the Fauns from Boston Commons turn’d his soul can be done my wrong.

Her exceeding pain. Lulled by the spring. And she wakes, is too-too cruelly to part, my Katie?

Without the end of the rest torn out. The desultory breeze that faint in his fame with half starved.

And sure in languages—as well as brighter eyes and live: Alas! Yet it was gold or silver.

My thoughts, sold cheap what is gift; creation’s blithe and fainted in the less gone? As he from your knees.

Guy calls the pen in the grass his features, couched upon a Harp of Song? Thine eye may stand away.

Eyes; light, and could ever turning saw the harvest. It sweeps plastic and vanish’d pleasure to meet.

Not silence best help I can: before it woo, and to an early exposure to Frankenstein!

Stay! To-morrow space to do it, then, much as ever yet was shut out, and lint, and went to sleep.

All kinds of life confined, some splinters in the surface-eyes were. Scarce that now you may for ever.

Perhaps to pick up. As some thing like a delusion; there by zephyrs, streaks running over you.

To proof makes us wish I could restrain her fearfully. Grounded on sinful loving, alert.

Master’s hand—as man’s ingratitudes and elegances terse. Oh woe is me! Than my knee.

My wailing cheer. And doth in it live. A fortune swells with a pious love of course must like that.

Diamonds, on the nightgown would understand. Stink of Rhyme, but do not, nor despised, whilst the dying.

I said to the most fairer than his way. Too gentle Euphues, who watch’d with disdain to tinder.

If facing, was forced to pray: so subtly is the spoils of country’s good—which no more. Fond Thought!

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 7 #128 texts #kimo sequence

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aurele-lucas · 7 months

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The birds

Owl:

"I am calm”[1] and I am composed, that's what got me here and that's what is going to get me further. Taking advantage of a different sleeping schedule and being nightactive allowed me to reach a different audience. However it also got the flipside of making it difficult to collab with others during the day. “I still do”[2] agree to this idea of forming this new alliance, where we can come to for advice and figure out the best way to act. “I could say that I must try to sell him the best I have and also teach him to know the best.”[3] For the city, we must get back all our bird friends like in the past.

The city seemed to be still asleep. It was a rather cold morning when I passed the harbor and flew towards the garden which was built a couple of weeks ago. “Still silence”[4] it still felt kinda strange, maybe it was also because day was breaking and I would normally go to sleep by now. However the garden was a real paradise. Big trees, small bushes, natural ponds, fake wells. “In that silence which was not silence, a something—I know not what—assured us that the dead forest was in truth alive, and on the point of breaking forth into speech.”[5]

“I was carried up the steps into a close shut hall.”[6] Continuing through the first room I arrived at my goal. The room was big and still empty. Sure they would come soon. “Well then, I think to myself, what does one start with?”[7]

Parrot:

I love to talk all day. No matter what gossip I'm always in for it. However, having to listen to complaining is not what I'm made for. I like to entertain and get entertained, I’m no one's therapist. Keeping this in mind, I absolutely love my new stay. There is always someone to talk to and since there are a lot of different people here there are a lot of different experiences to hear and to tell.

Eating here sure was a dream. And everything was just for us, there would be no intruders or predators lurking around. I have to get going as it takes a couple of minutes to get from the west wing of the building to the center conference room. “But I am ashamed of mankind, as often as I enter the lecture hall.”[8] “It is in this grand hall that the court is held.”[9] I can already hear the disputes and the high pitched voices that are about to pierce my head.

“I could get really tired of this except for one wonderful event that almost always happens.”[10] The moment when everyone agrees to the same verdict.

Hummingbird:

Even though I'm rather small, I still get the big attention. My unique skills make me one of a kind. I’m very outgoing and positive and also like to show that with my clothing. Putting a smile on someone's face makes me really happy. “If I sing and dance, I seduce, and if I dress and scent myself, I slay.”[11]

Waking up in these trees sure feels like heaven. I can hear the water splashing somewhere down below. But up here it's beautiful. The botanic garden is a stone throw away. Also, there are so many different kinds of trees enriching the place. “The potential harm to wildlife is therefore kept to a minimum.”[12] Quietly in the distance you can hear the ocean's waves. “I have also made some new acquaintance.”[13] It really is an oasis here. Well anyways it's time for me to get going. I'm sure the others are already waiting for me. It's also very practical that a part of the building is left open for us to enter, it makes life a lot easier. Now we just need to get everything on track and then we are at the destination. “We cannot be held entirely responsible for our lack of comprehension.”[14] but we sure do play a part in it.

Seagull:

I used to look over my shoulder all the time. Being very insecure and on the lookout. This new place creates a safe space for me.

Life here sure is pretty relaxed. Thanks to this new building with its garden there is now a place to stay with no natural threats on our neck. ”I can scarcely stay alive now.”[15] However, many of my fellow friends are still avoiding this town. “Added to this, nature is against them, the bay being open and insecure.”[16] But this changed with the new building. I do have to say, if they would see where I'm housing at the moment they would probably come here too. The second story of the house is big with several entries and exits through the roof. There are open rooms and small niches. It basically feels like the perfect place to call home. “When I looked at this whole scene, I thought it admirable.”[17]

Kingfisher:

Having my own place to stay near the conference building sure is convenient. “For I love both the city and signs"[18] and everything it has to offer. This is why I have made it my duty to recover our former state, in which the place was thriving with birds. It will definitely be quite chaotic leading this discussion but I think “It is the same for everyone”[19] everyone is aiming for the same goal, that's also why I ask them all for their support. The mix between house, “a garden strangely suspended between reality and utopia”[20] and forest is meant to create a space for everybody. And so far I think it definitely works.

[1] Goldoni_The Comedies of Carlo Goldoni, [2] Asimov_Complete Robot Anthology, [3] Rand_The Fountainhead, [4] Asimov_Complete Robot Anthology, [5] Michelet_The Insect, [6] Wollstonecraft_Complete Works, [7] Lacan_The Psychoses Seminars of JL, [8] Seneca_Complete Works, [9] Hugo_Les Miserables, [10] Zimring_Encyclopedia of Consumption and Waste, [11] The Book of the Thousand and One Nights, [12] Carson_Silent Spring, [13] Wollstonecraft_Complete Works, [14] Girard_Violence and the Sacred, [15] Seneca_Complete Works, [16] Wollstonecraft_Complete Works, [17] Darwin_Voyage of the Beagle Round the World, [18] Ockmann_Architecture Culture 1943 1968, [19] Schumacher_The Autopoiesis of Architecture Vol 2, [20] Frampton_Modern Architecture A Critical History

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dragonnan · 1 year

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First Sentence Game

Saw this shared by @helloliriels and it looked incredibly fun so here's mine!

Rules: share the first lines of ten of your most recent fanfics and tag ten people. If you have written less than ten, don’t be shy and share anyway.

1. The Home Visit (Doctor Strange) It smelled cold.

Not like winter – which tasted metallic and fresh at the same time, no. No, this cold had the aroma that was patently October. Black cats and scudding cloud and ripened pumpkins. It was the earthy snap of fallen leaves and the far off sound of hunter's rifles and the call of geese and ducks headed for warmer lands. For many people, Autumn was their favorite time of year. Maybe... once, when he was younger, Stephen could have said the same.

2. We Are Men of Action - Lies Do Not Become Us (Psych - a cross-post of an older fic) Cool, that morning; just on the right side of chilly, actually. Early, even for the early risers. Far too early for a guy who hadn't slept in two days. Far, far too early for that guy's father to demand they share coffee while watching the sun rise over the waves.

3. Sed Diabolus (Avengers WIP) It was a pretty great view. He'd been meaning to check it out; sometime. Those weeks spent in his (new) room; dishes of food going cold at his elbow while he'd sat at his computer and clicked through five years of history that he hadn't lived. Most of the news stories had been about the failing economy; the declaration of martial law around the country, the breakdown of infrastructure. His current roosting spot was exactly the same as it had been the day he'd… dusted. Skyline Tower had been scheduled for completion in 2020. Three years later and, like so many other construction projects, it was an abandoned property with naked I-beams stabbing towards the clouds. It would probably never be finished. Not the way things were, now.

4. The Wizard Was the Wicked Witch and the Scarecrow Lost His Courage (Psych - another cross-post of an older story) It was hot there out on the sidewalk. Getting off the plane – walking through the tunnel back to the airport he'd felt the wave of temperature thud against him, both familiar and a little bit of a let-down. Odd that his destination, so unwelcome after the past week, was a tropical getaway to most everyone else he'd traveled with. He wished he could have stayed longer. But then, he always wished it could be longer.

5. The Holiday is Over (Sherlock) He could no longer track how many days had passed, since he'd been captured and brought to this… hell hole, though he suspected it was close to a month. He'd knelt in the snow, once he'd realized there had been nowhere left to run; collapsed, really. He'd been on Moran's trail for weeks and had scarcely stopped for rest or food. It had caught up to him at the worst possible time.

6. Like Some Sort of Parable (Sherlock) The cab, carrying his best friend, along with his new fiance’, had long since been swallowed by the night. Sniffing, wincing at the pain in his nose, Sherlock tossed the bloody serviette before walking to the kerb to hail his own ride. He winced again upon raising his hand and felt the tug of the motion through his back.

7. The Fire in Which We Burn (Sherlock WIP) “I just wanted to let you know that... well, Dennis is scheduled to be released this afternoon. I didn't find out myself until twenty minutes ago. I know he was meant to be in longer but... well we both know the justice system is a joke. Listen... call me, alright? Let me know... I'm here if you need me, yeah? Christ. Just, look after yourself, Molly. I'll talk to you soon.”

8. If You Want this Choice Position Have a Cheery Disposition (Sherlock) Barred from any investigations requiring footwork, forced to once more suffer the restrictions of a sling for another three weeks, Sherlock could feel the restlessness like ants in his skin.

9. A Faun at Baker Street (Sherlock) It had all started in Dartmoor.

It had been nearly been 2am by the time they'd finished up at the field and had staggered back to the hotel. Sherlock had left hours earlier so John had offered to remain behind with Greg while they had filled in the local constabulary; a greying man a year out from retirement along with his replacement-in-training.

10. Your Loss Would Break My Heart (Sherlock) He could have taken the helicopter but, quite frankly, he had needed the drive in order to structure what he would say to them. Though, even as he pulled the sleek vehicle into the drive; gravel snapping and popping beneath the narrow tyres, he was no more prepared than he'd been when he'd left London. After turning off the engine he hung back for a beat – hands gripped around the wheel.

Tagging (no pressure): @ariaadagio @aelaer @ceruleanmindpalace @kitcat992 @hanuko @sgam76 @disappearinginq @itsjustdg as well as anyone else who'd like to participate :)

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kidelune · 1 year

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TW: Mature themes, death, violence, blood, all that jazz. Read at your own discretion.

(Part 4/?) | Part 3. Part 2. Part 1.

Kyoto, Summer, 2020

A soft click of the engawa door at his back announces the earnest return of company that couldn't refuse his tenacity. Kijun folds forward against bent knees, bare down to his boxers, and flicks a column of ash into the splash of moonlight wedged in his ashtray as his father settles back down beside him, huffs of satisfaction on his lips. He's smiling, the old man, unrivaled joy ensuing mostly around narrow eyes in such a way that accentuated the copious amount of sake and shochu they'd been ingesting for the past two hours. The last bottle almost spills over as he attempts at settling it down between them amongst all the empty ones, clumsy digits scrambling so hard Kijun finds himself intervening with the theatrics.

"Ah, you're makin' a huge mess, pa. Why'd you bring another," Kijun asks through a grin, though it escapes him more like a statement up in smokes. "I told you, we gotta stop now 'cause you get the worst fuckin' hangovers. Not tryin' to deal with that y'know."

"Oh, c'mon, don't be an asshole." Junseo scarcely recovers with a fist to his only son's shoulder, though he doesn't punch him nearly as hard as he could. Between the two, it's always been more like a nudge. "Just one more? For your old man. It's not every day my son comes by when I'm here after all."

Kijun holds that unsteady gaze on him momentarily, cigarette burning still at the corner of his mouth, moon delved so deeply into their tresses it turns his father entirely grey. But notwithstanding his current state of absence, Junseo is still too good at concealing any other reservations laid behind his sagged stare for his equally drunken son to decrypt, so with a sigh of defeat sounding in his throat, the latter soon slips his palm around the shochu bottle's neck and pours his father a generous shot instead.

By some absurd margin of luck, not a single drop is spilled from the glass as Junseo raises it to his mouth this time and practically chucks the spirits at once down his throat. Like it's the last thing he were to do after tonight. It takes him a moment to savour the raw flavours before surfacing again, all groans and overly flushed cheeks, and drops the glass for a cigarette he'd regret less later. He folds his legs how he always does when he's pensive and ready for the stars.

"Thank you, son." Echoes between them like faint murmurs of slow church bells throughout the minutes that unravel after, screens of smoke swooning and dispersing and mixing as they smoke in this comfortable, summer swept silence.

Just beyond the sunbaked courtyard walls lay a narrow street for local passerby's and curious cats alike, which leads to a main path that brings you straight to a small bridge for crossing. Following its dewy scent, faint rushing of water can be heard all the way from here, and somewhere in the courtyard rattles an assembly of crunching leaves, no doubt the result of a passing neighborhood cat.

Kijun thinks that if life at home wasn't so demanding, maybe he'd get to wake up here every morning instead, cradled by his futon on warm tatami flooring and listening to temple bells, his father's humming and wrangling felines. Maybe someday.

"You know, one of the most valuable things I've learned from my career in the mob, I'd learned it here in Japan. From someone who's dead now," Kijun is on the way to lighting his third cigarette as his father quietly fills the foreground noise with reminisce, finally. He releases a numbing leg from his chest, but hugs the singular knee closer to his heart with ears perked with intent. Junseo simply continues to weave words amidst the stars, fingers counting them along, "When you're up against a spider, no matter the size, the most important bits of it you should focus on removing first are its legs. Only then will you find enough safety to attack the head, and kill it once and for all." Felled ashes scatter to his lap, but he doesn't budge much beyond a harsh frown Kijun doubts has anything to do with the mess.

"But sometimes you have to yield to the risk. Sometimes there's no time for guaranteeing yourself that safety you should aim for otherwise. You must aim straight for the head and hope that it isn't you on the unfortunate end." He aims a piercing regard towards his son now, suddenly grim by memory. "That is how you conquer the world, the one below and the one above. That is how you survive."

Gyeonggi-do, South Korea, 2022.

It is some dark hours past dinner time, and halfway through his leisure 'walk' through prison grounds, Curate Kijun finds Kang Dongwook and his lackeys grotesquely strewn in the storage building before he can even think to complete his mission. In the thick of pooling blood at his feet, he smells cold blooded murder and the extent of hands that were not his own. The entire spider is dead. Fuck, escapes him breathlessly, realization carrying with it a sudden, abject fear for his life which nearly eclipses his capacity for reason, as it mounts his spine with the weight of a tonne of bricks.

But his guard remains at sky-high peaks, hands extra close to the long blades strapped under his robes as he reigns in courage through a deep breath, rolled neck, and stalks further into the midst of slaughter. He's careful not to disturb the roots death begins to take among the tools and boxes, tip of his toes preventing him from getting fresh blood anywhere on himself lest he wanted anything to do with being present in the investigation ahead. The closer he gets to where he spots Dongwook's frame in the back, though, the more painfully familiar the scene becomes. Like deja vu.

Images of Boo's body come rushing back into the back of Kijun's mind where he swims to the depths of a fleeting unconsciousness before rising back for air, all in one heartbeat. The first handed perspective of Dongwook's helpless body splayed at his feet sets him back in an endless funeral hall, then abruptly yanks him to his knees under Buddha's perpetual scrutiny. In response his stomach begins an aggressive somersault that forces bile and his last meal up his throat, causing him to almost miss the delayed blinks coming from below.

In the center of Dongwook's chest is a note skewered by a big kitchen knife, yet somehow, the man still breathes, for what it's worth. Kijun makes sure his gloves are on before he bends for the note alone, ripping it off in one fell swoop without so much as even exhaling in the obviously struggling man's direction.

Dongwook's regurgitating is a ghastly orchestra throughout the entirety of a sentence Kijun reads in silence, the handwriting so unsightly in the dark it's as though it'd been written in the blood soaking the paper.

When is a dangerous man dangerous no longer? When he is dead.

Old Dongwook still labours with the last of his breaths by the end of it, seemingly pertinacious and determined to utter a message to the very last face he'll ever see. Unexpectedly, he wields it for a warning to Kijun, who gracefully crouches with an ear in his direction for one chance.

"Never stand with your back to the darkness." He heaves each syllable with great difficulty, coughing blood which seeps to no end from all corners of his quivering mouth. Before all the life escapes him at the end, he says, albeit very faintly, "They know you're here too, foolish cunt." And then, as quickly as clap of thunder and swelling of life from a bud, he's gone.

Kijun does not return to his quarters afterwards—he doesn't even look back as he exits the storage room on hasty heels, his long black robes tailing behind him like a ghost of the past, golden rosary glinting in the dark. Whoever Dongwook was speaking of must've been searching for him at the very moment, as well, and that is all he can afford to think of until after he's at least some acres away from Gyeonggi-do itself. Narrowly making it past the unforgiving claws of death.

When is a dangerous man dangerous no longer? When he is dead.

Though the words are still a painful incineration of blood and ashes underneath Kijun's eyelids, the note on which they lay sits untouched in his robes pocket, crumpled up in all the mayhem of his fleeing for his life. By the time he makes it to the first destination of the rest of his life from tonight, the watch on his wrist reads three in the morning, and the sentence of death, an exhausted loop in his head. His superintendent, the boss' most loyal assistant, is the first person he's confronted with at the mouth of the building. Stopped halfway through the lobby for a thorough inspection.

They pat him down for planted bugs, disarm him, and ask far too many questions for his current state of comfort and steadily rising anxiety. But he doesn't protest against it, knowing it's necessary, and that exhaustion is not much of a far cry away from engulfing his limbs.

"Clear." Says the man at length, and like a pack of trained lap dogs, the rest of his team disperses in every direction thinkable. His voice picks up a softer intonation once he opens his mouth next, addressing Kijun alone, "Did you go home at all?"

"No."

"Good. They've found it. Lucky we'd anticipated this and moved you out, otherwise you'd be fucked. Now we have some time to spare, and to get you out."

"But who, exactly, are you talkin' about at this point, hyung? I found that on Dongwook, y'know. I didn't kill him." Kijun says, fury a controlled fire in his throat, "Why don't you spare me some time and tell me what the fuck is really going on here?"

"That's not for me to explain. C'mon."

Velveteen walls stare him hard in the face, their silence overwhelmingly deafening under all this pressure and confusion that plagues Kijun's heavy limbs, ones moving on autopilot as he's escorted up to the apex of the building. His patron is seated behind his cherrywood desk as he always is, though tonight he's forgone lavish, rococo-esque suits for plain night clothes. And unlike his usual, pleasant-enough appearance, tonight, he is no sight for sore eyes; scruffed, aegyo sal sagged with exhaustion and a wrathful distress.

Yet Kijun finds in him no mercy to spare, as he is brought in and left alone with the man who might've betrayed his trust, after so many years.

"Do you mind explaining to me what the fuck is going on, sir. Seriously, because if it's what I think it is, I want no fucking part of this." He spits out on the wooden desk, sharp blades that make his eyes angled for cutting. For gutting, even, if only he could.

His patron stands with a crude stillness set in his sturdy motions, one that might've sent lesser men running by now, and slips an envelope towards the younger for the second time they meet here, in this same room. Deja vu stikes Kijun again, for the second time of this godforsaken night. A night for seconds, apparently.

"What is this?" He gracelessly rips open the envelope, and finds in its bowels some cash and two one way tickets to Kyoto included.

"You're right. This is no place for part time or retired gangsters." His patron says cuttingly, his short hair an unkempt mess on his head, as though he'd been running his fingers through them without any sense of direction in his strokes whatsoever. Frustration. An unmeasurable amount of it. Kijun gapes at him, but he continues before the younger can find the right words to respond with.

"Take Junseo with you tomorrow and leave. I've already informed him to pack his things. Get yours, too, and your pets. Leave and stay squatted for as long as you can in Kyoto. It is not you they're after, so you should be safe."

"Who is they?" Kijun's voice scrapes past his throat in harsh intervals as his octaves ascend through his quickly escalating anger, "Have they been waiting for Dongwook to let his guard down? Kill him to get to you? Is that it?"

So this was what scar man meant, by him knowing nothing. This was who really was behind Boo's death. Whoever it is.

His boss sucks in a prolonged breath through two nostrils no doubt in attempt to quell impulsivity, like a bull preparing for a rodeo, then, in a heartbeat picks up the vase at the top corner of his desk and flings it with the force of a thousand men into the nearest wall. It shatters effortlessly, water splattering all over the floor as the small bouquet it held flails and scatters aimlessly. Kijun does not flinch, only stares, as if to convey that he would not back down.

When his patron opens his mouth again, his voice is a thunderous furor of roaring, which incessantly bounce off the bulletproof windows of his office. "I SAID FUCKING LEAVE! Which part of that don't you understand?! This is for your own fucking good."

Kijun squares his shoulders, reigning his back straight as a pole as a way of displaying his valour. His jaw hurts from how hard he's clenching his teeth together, anger fighting for dear life from being crushed by his strong maw. "You roped me into this while knowing what the risks really were. You fuckin' lied to me about Boo's killer being Kang Dongwook! He was my fucking friend, mind you! Then practically put me on a fuckin' suicide mission? I KILLED for this. Now you want to compensate by sending me away? For my safety? You're so fuckin' fucked up."

His patron closes the distance between them with the speed of light, takes Kijun's face in his hands and slaps him so hard across the cheek that if he hadn't anticipated it already, he might've twisted his neck backwards, never to recover again. But he only rocks slightly sideways, face instantaneously grown hot-red with a new shade of vicious, stinging pain.

The elder dry-spits off to the side as he returns to his previous spot behind the desk, and starts scrambling for a cigar in his desk drawer. Having dismissed his assistant to be alone with Kijun for this meeting, he's left to fend for himself. It takes him a while to find one with a quaking set of fingers. "I know what I have done. But do not waste my efforts to help you and your father. Tomorrow is all you will have. Once you've settled in Kyoto as you two always did, I'll wire over your money. It'll be more than enough to keep you two there for some months."

Kijun scoffs and grips around the envelope tightly–which he wanted more than anything in this world to tear in half instead– enough to crush it flat. It posses no merit to him whatsoever, especially while in the know that it comes from the man across him.

"I'm done with you. After all these years, you fuck me over like this..." He rasps, ignoring the aching in his face, the slight tinge of darkness in his eye, "How could I trust you anymore, after you've used me? For all I know I'll be walking into another one of your fuckin traps, with pops this time."

His boss hisses, "Breathe one more word and I will gut you myself. Understood?"

Kijun rubs a shade of rouge off his jaw for a moment, stuck in his rage and a pool of incredulity still. Ten times more grateful to be alive, despite the miserable predicament of having been used and almost killed a second time. Ultimately Kyoto would not hurt, he thinks, but at what cost was this?

In the end he lifts his gaze back from their pensive droop, and with his chin up in the air now, he offers a curt nod, eyes reflecting an image of indifference.

Inwardly, though, he promises something, as he holds the greying man's gaze of steel, aiming daggers at his heart. If they don't kill you first, then I will do it myself.

Then he turns on two heels and leaves, the tickets still glued like crushed leaves to his knuckles.

Kyoto, Winter, 2022.

Junseo returns home with only a pack of incense on their first night in Kyoto, and the very first thing he does is take to his cracking knees at the chabudai across from where Kijun sits with the two cats, plucks a bundle of matches from his padded jacket and precisely burns two sticks. Another turn of not speaking a single word to his son later–as he hadn't done the entire flight over, he's pushing them towards the candles already lit up in the tokonoma.

He does something afterwards, which Kijun himself had assumed he wouldn't do for at least two more days. His father speaks, albeit jadedly. "You know, I wasn't planning on coming back here until January. My love and I were going to travel to Hokkaido as we do every year."

The younger pauses on his way up to his feet, visibly caught off guard by this sudden conversation he'd been hauled into. He's silent in his movement, though, as he drags his feet on the heated tatami toward his luggage. It's only after the zipper comes undone as he recovers his own matches that he rasps, straightforwardly, "I wasn't planning on coming at all."

Behind him, his father gives a start–a brief, dry chuckle he knew was not one produced by amusement. "You've finally managed a major fuck up like you always wanted, and now you're regretting it? C'mon now, son."

"Dad, please."

"Don't you fuckin' dad me, boy. Do you even know how bad it could've gotten, Kijun?! Do you?! You know you could've been six fucking feet under right now, right?!" Unlike his younger self, his father had grown with age to be one who was quick to lose his temper. Kijun turns to find him brushing strong hands through his grown out locks of jet black, and pacing the floor in a wide circle of blatant distress. His socks whisper softly against the mats below them, chanting a wistful melody that causes a heart wrenching ache in Kijun's chest so raw it thieves him of his breath.

"I don't plan to attend your fucking funeral any time soon. This is not the order of things. You're not supposed to die on ME."

"You were a gangster too, pops. You know as well as me that age doesn't matter in this quality of life, probably even better than me considering how many people you've fucking buried." He approaches the older man, equal parts of dismal as he were frustrated, forgetting that they're nowhere near equals under the cascade of his folly and grief. "It doesn't fucking matter."

His father is quick to crack a whip across the bruise-free side of his son's jaw, however, not as hard as his patron had struck him, but unforgiving nonetheless. Hard enough to remind Kijun to focus. Though when he attempts at pushing Kijun back into the wall by the same jaw, the latter counters the grip with his own anchoring onto a seasoned wrist, and twists, hard enough to hurt.

Junseo winces, losing sight on his objective in realization that he may be hurting his only child, though his eyes still burn with a profound ire as he violently jerks his wrist from the younger's grasp.

Between teeth he growls next, a strict finger pointing towards Kijun's chest. "I fucking wanted better for you..." He frowns so deeply the wrinkles on his face grow further in punctuation. A profound sorrow enters blunt eyes soon after, causing his usually stead voice to voice waver towards the unusual, "I wanted you to grow up happy... Remember?"

"I'm so sorry, pa..." Kijun sighs, long arms outstretched now, as his father walks into his embrace. Junseo holds his son as though he were only a boy, all over again.

"I'm sorry, too." Junseo's heaviest sigh tonight takes a tumble with no destination down Kijun's shoulder blade, as he tightly glues his cheek to the younger man's ear after pressing a tender kiss for consolation on his temple, "What's been done's done now. All you can do now is wait, and do better. Please." Junseo pulls back a final time, his handsome features graced by yellow candlelight while he holds two angular cheekbones in the safety of his frostbitten palms, his jaded gaze pleading in what seems to be his last, desperate attempt at saving the son he'd doomed from the start, "Show me that I can still hope for you, son."

It's in this particular moment of a quiet, tragic tonnage of vulnerability and unthinkable quantums of exhaustion that Kijun finally, finally shatters entirely to bits and pieces of himself, as he should've a long, long time ago. How long has it been since he'd last cried? Truly cried?

"I'm so sorry for causing you so much trouble all my life, dad..." He apologizes with the fragments of himself he could still hold onto, in between hicks and an endless flood of tears he didn't know he even had reserved within himself. If anything, he'd thought that dam had dried years ago. "I just... don't know anymore."

But maybe his father is right to have no hope left for him. Maybe he really is rotten to the very ends of himself, or had become so as a result of something inexplicable. Because even in this moment of weakness and mourning, all he can imagine is more blood on his hands, and the rather enticing price of retribution.

"How can I just be happy when I know it's never fuckin' over?"

#kk.written #last part for a while but its not over #ehe #not proofread

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wizkiddx · 3 years

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living and reviving II

yep when I said three parts I think I meant 4 oops

summary: an overdue conversation that has to happen - like it or not

warnings: cheating, swearing, pregnancy talk, lots more angst, think thats it?

tomhollandxreader

/////////////////////// prev

So with a new sense of dread and fear and complete and total isolation you uttered three single words before hysterically running away.

“Don’t follow me.”

Not now, not ever.

That had been three weeks ago.

And it still fucking hurt like hell.

It had ended up that Yamna had taken you back to hers, where you had stayed for a couple nights. During that couple of days, Tom had tried. He had tried to apologise, tried to explain, tried to fix things. But it just wasn’t that easy.

Whatever he said, it didn’t take back from the fact that he had in that moment meant it. So no amount of sorrys could ever take that back.

After everyone had realised just how serious their situation was, Tom had moved out of your shared flat - so you could at least be in the place you were comfortable. Afterall the nursery was built in your flat and clearly it was you doing all the baby stuff for the moment. Thankfully Yamna, having been cut loose so without job, offered to move in with you. Which was probably the only thing keeping you going.

Well, that and ben and jerrys ‘phish food’. Honestly the shop must think you’re running some sort of ice cream black market at the rate you’re getting through their tubs.

Everyone kept parroting that it wasn’t good for the baby. Too much ice cream . Too much heavy lifting. Too much stress.

And yes, it probably was. But that was out of your control . The stress and lack of man in the household meant you had to do the heavy lifting of shopping from the car up the stairs. Shopping meaning ice cream, which you only depended on so much because of the stress.

It was a vicious cycle of hell.

Even Yamna, the person you were relying on keeping you sane had started walking on eggshells. It was as though you were literally about to pop, she always had to have at least half an eye on you. You were even banned from locking the toilet door - just in case.

It felt like you were a captive animal, people kept coming to observe you, giving sad looks before gleeing the scene.

You hadn’t been sleeping well either. Of course, being 3 weeks of your due date didn’t help - but neither did the lack of Tom. In fact, for the first time since shit had hit the fan, you had actually been managing to get some decent sleep when Yamna knocked on your bedroom door, quietly calling your name.

“I’m asleep” Groaning, you pulled the covers further over your head, praying to god that she’d leave you alone. But of course that wasn’t happening, she just lightly chuckled before you felt the bed dip - she had perched on the edge… Toms side.

“You never normally sleep talk.”

“I’m never normally this sleep deprived.” She sighed, whilst you still stubbornly kept your eyes closed.

“I’m sorry I woke you…. but this is important.”

“What?” Almost grunting, you threw the covers down looking up at her in anticipation. That was another thing about pregnancy - you were always on high alert, always worried.

“Toms here.”

“Tell him to f off.” Quickly you stopped caring about what your bestmate had to say.

“He’s saying that he’s the little ones dad and that he deserves to be involved and…. and I think I might agree.”

“I deserve a boyfriend who stays loyal to me so clearly neither of us are getting what we want.” You weren’t angry at Yamna and snapping at her wasn’t the answer. And yet you still did it.

“Y/n….I love you and I am completely on your side. I just think that maybe, perhaps, you should at least manage to be civil before baby arrives. Otherwise… thats going to be a lot to deal with all at once.”

It was your turn to sigh, deep and heavy (or at least as deep as the baby let). Most infuriatingly she was right. The conversation had to happen at some point. With a baby there too it would only be even more traumatic.

“He’s here now?” It only dawned on you how broken you actually sounded when the words croaked out of you.

“Yeh hunny… I didn’t let him inside so he’s standing outside the door looking like a dickhead right now.” The image cheered you up a little, enough to sit up in bed and be wrapped in Yamna’s arms. Her actions said it all, she really only meant the best for you and knew how hard this would be. After a moment she leant back. “I almost considered calling the paps so they could get a picture and label him as a groveling dick.”

“You should of.” Of course you didn’t mean it, but the answer had you both laughing. It took a minute to calm down before she changed subject slightly.

“You want me to make myself scarce? I can hide in my room or go to the shops or-“

“Text the guy from the bar - you deserve a night off ‘babysitting Y/n’ duties.”

“I’m not babys-“

“Yes you are. Go out with him and have some fun, I’ll be fine.”

“You sure?”

“Yeh”

That was a bare face lie - but Yamna had been almost too good to you. She really really needed a break. Especially as the current plan was she’d be helping with the newborn too. Right now you wouldn’t have wished a baby on yourself - never mind your best mate.

“Okay, get ready then babe - but do it slowly, leave him waiting outside in the cold for as long as possible.”

“Obviously.” You laughed, hauling yourself out of bed, where she gave you one more encouraging hug before leaving.

After hearing Yamna leave, and brushing your hair and throwing on a new pair of trakkies and hoodie, you slowly walked towards the door. It felt as though impending doom were on the other side and every fibre of you wanted to scream and run the other way. But it just had to happen at some point. Why not now?

With a final sharp exhale, attempting to pull yourself together, you opened the door. Immediately your heart sank, seeing nothing. Had you really been that long? And even so, was a 10 minute wait enough for him to give up? You could already feel the hormonal pregnancy tears starting to spring, when a grunt drew your attention.

What you hadn’t considered was the fact Tom was ready to camp out, sitting on the floor beside your door. Springing to his feet, he seemed shocked you’d actually opened the door - makes two of you. When Yamna left she had told him you were coming, but seeing really is believing.

“Y/n! I-I… I wasn’t sure you were ever going to answer.”

“You and me both.” You replied dryly, still leaning on the door. “Do you er…. do you want to come in?” Again he seemed shocked, as though he wasn’t sure you meant it.

“Is that-that okay?” Shrugging you just nodded, stepping back so he could get in. He did pay half the mortgage afterall.

“You want a drink?” He quickly declined your offer, not vocally but instead rushing past you to the kitchen and turning the kettle on himself.

“Your the pregnant one. Go chill on the sofa, I’ll bring you a cuppa.”

And a bit taken a back by his forcefulness you followed instructions, from the sofa watching how effortlessly he danced round the kitchen. It wasn’t shocking, it was technically his kitchen too. But seeing him there felt so alien, almost transporting you back to much much simpler times. Seemed a lifetime ago.

After a couple of minutes, he rounded the sofa with a hot chocolate in one hand for you (because caffiene is bad for the baby) and a cup of Yorkshire tea in the other.

“So… how have you been?”

“Ate a lot of ben and jerrys” You answered without really answering, except he knew you all too well.

“That bad?” He sighed, scrubbing a hand over his brow “how about the baby?”

“I don’t tend to carry an ultrasound on me but she’s been keeping me up all night kicking - so normal I guess.”

“Thats good” He spoke before realising what he said. “Sorry no I um-I don’t mean it like that!” You all but laughed in the face of his flusteredness, only making the tips of his ears go pinker.

“I assume you had something to say and that you came here for a reason rather than just pity me?”

“I want to make things right Y/n - I-I mean your having my kid.”

“OUR kid”

“ Exactly! And-and I love you too and-“

“Bullshit” You may have murmured it under your breath but you had intended for him to hear.

“Oh come one Y/n, you know that!”

It was like the man was asking to be yelled at.

“Don’t sit there trying to patronise me! I THOUGHT i knew it but then I saw you all over another girl. So yes, I’m calling bullshit.”

“Ugh I… If your not going to even try to hear me out then…”

“Then what Tom? You gonna kick me out. I mean this is your flat after all! Maybe you’d like to dump the mother of your unborn child homeless on the street and forget about us - how’d that sound? I’m sure your fans would blindly applaud you.”

“Listen! Please would you just listen to me.” His voice was loud and tone harsh, making you flinch a little. Not because you were ever worried he’d hurt you - but how this wave of uncomfort shuddered through your body, baby even squirming in discontent. So focused on that you just nodded, shifting back into the sofa.

Tom had noticed your reaction and seeing you seemingly scared of him like that, well it broke his heart. Even more.

“Sorry I didn’t mean to shout, I just…. I really need to try and fix this.” He leaned closer, letting out a thankful breath when you just nodded, as if to say go on.

“I’ve really really missed you… these past couple of weeks I’ve never felt so gulity in my life. Not because of what I did! Well yeh that but-but more how much it hurt you and-“

“Fuck.”

You couldn’t help but let out that little curse of pain as a new wave of pain, which seemed to originate from your lower back, shuddered through you. Tom looked up from where his eyes had been nervously wringing his palms whilst he spoke. Rubbing a hand over your belly you shook your head and motioned for him to continue.

She was just kicking really really hard. Right?

“Uhm yeh so I just wanted to properly tell you everything that happened that night so at least we are on the same page? A-And I’m not going to try and use this an excuse but I had been drinking so-“

Seemingly baby disliked the end of that sentence too, causing another rippling wave to echo through your body, feeling as though a band was pressing tightly round your stomach. With another small curse it forced you to stand up, in the hope that’d ease her. Clearly she was as done with his shit as you were.

“Need a water.” You muttered, already waddling to the kitchen, where you heard Tom follow you immediately - like an inpatient dog.

“Y/n sit down I can-“

He was silenced by you freezing and grabbing his arm tightly - a physical contact he hadn’t been expecting from you.

“Tom… get your phone.” You spoke slowly, still not having dared to have moved an inch - fingers almost white from how tightly you were squeezing his forearm.

“Wha-are you-are you okay?”

“I think my waters just broke. Get the phone. Now.”

~~~ feedback is really appreciated + would love to know what u think as still in the process of writing so can be guided / helped by asks !!! ~~~

taglist: @maraudersandco @@minejungwoo @sippin-on-tea @thegirlintheswivelchair @lovehollandy12 @hollandlover19 @thefernandasantana @hunnybunimdun @hallecarey1@cedricdiggorysimpp @msmimimerton @hollandfanficlove @pandaxnienke @crossyourpeter @thegirlwiththeimpala @tom-softie @sunwardsss @spiitfiiires @radcloudenthusiast @ladykxxx08 @prancerrparkerr @wildxwidow @arctic-monkcys @ownbauer13 @tomhollandlol @marvelsbitch8 @peterr-parkourr @lizzyclifford13-blog @user1683 @elishi03

#tom holland #tom holland imagine #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland angst #tom x reader #peter parkqueue #tom holland oneshot #tom holland x reader #tomholland #dad!tom #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x pregnant!reader #Tom Holland fluff #tom holland fluff

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jiminniethemarshmallow · 3 years

Text

Thank You For Your Service IV (M)

Thank you @7stars-aligned13 for the beautiful mood board!! Pairing: Jimin x Reader Genre: smut, angst, fluff Warnings: mentions of trouble conceiving, lots of time skips, squirting, face fucking, dom!Jimin, slight role play, impreg kink, dirty talk, fingering, cream pie Word Count: 24,500

Part 1~ Part 2~ Part 3~ Part 4

You hiccup, already crying fat tears before you’ve even heard the news. You fear those words, feel the emptiness, and it hurts your soul. The straight faced doctor takes her time coming into your room, letting out a sigh once she sees your face. It’s from exasperation, but you would like to interpret it as sympathy. She stands at the foot of your bed, waiting until you calm your breathing enough to hear her.

“As I am sure you have guessed, you are not with child.” Those words break your heart for the sixth time and you break down into sobs, hiding your face in Jimin’s pillows.

Six months. It has been six long months since you were wed and you still are not pregnant. Even after all those late nights, early mornings when you’d send the servants away before your schedules began, the remedies and special foods, the slightly uncomfortable positions and pillow mountains, you still are not yet carrying your husband’s child. And it crushes you.

Yes, you know having children is not all you are good for, but it is one of your duties as a Queen. Having heirs is something that only you can do and the entire kingdom awaits expectantly for the news of an incoming prince or princess that they can idolize and adore, so you feel the pressure at all times of day— as well as guilt in regards to your barren womb. You should be fertile at this youthful time in your life. Both you and Jimin have passed every physical examination and remain in excellent health, which is why it is so perplexing to you that you are having trouble conceiving. Rosé, Queen of the kingdom just north of yours, is already pregnant and she was wed to her husband an entire month after you. Twins, you hear she’s having. You’d hate to fall behind her kingdom in any aspect, even in such a trivial competition as having children. She has nothing to do with your family, and yet, you still feel so inferior because you do not yet have one.

“To put it bluntly,” Your doctor begins, looking down at the paper she’s holding, scribbled with notes. “I believe the cause of your current condition— or lack thereof— is due to the poisoning you endured several months ago. It is possible that the potion affected your reproductive organs in some imperceptible way; your kidneys exhibited symptoms of its effects for nearly a month after your recovery, so we cannot completely rule out this possibility. But, Your Highness, the only way I would be able to test this hypothesis is through surgery to visually inspect your organs.”

You shudder at the thought of being cut open, shaking your head animatedly. Maybe you would consider this “inspection” after a year of effort and failure, but you would not take such drastic measures this early. No matter how much the constant failure hurt.

“If my infertility is due to the poison-“ You swallow thickly when your voice comes out as a mere whimper.

“Let us not be so hasty in calling it infertility, Your Majesty.” She interrupts, stare lightening just slightly. She’s learned the tiniest bit of respect since working under Jimin, his low tolerance for rudeness and spiny disposition during medical examinations slowly beginning to unnerve her cold discourse. Many a time has he reprimanded her for speaking to you informally or for her lack of sympathy, and you are finally starting to see a change, though she still interrupts you to interject.

“If my current inability to conceive is because of the poison,” You try again, “Are there any elixirs or pills I could take to lessen its effects? There must be something!”

“Because we do not know entirely if this is due to the poison, I am hesitant to give you treatment— sometimes getting pregnant is difficult for some people and there is nothing medically wrong with them. For now I can only give you advice on conception: try to lower your stress levels, eat more fruits and vegetables for vitamins, and do not over exert yourself. That is all for today, I will be back in a month for your regular check up unless I am needed sooner.” With that she turns and leaves, not waiting to be dismissed and leaving you alone in your room.

It is the middle of winter and the bone-chilling winds whip against your windows. The palace is heated by fire, but you refuse to light your fireplace, choosing to sit and suffer in the cold alone as you wallow in your gloom. Jimin has been busy all day with kingdom affairs, out and about performing duties that not even your father cared enough to get done. The people love him, love how involved he is and how much he cares, and they never hesitate to alert him to any problems they might have that Jimin could take care of. Of course he doesn’t mind, you knew he would never be able to stay inside these sheltered walls for long when he was so used to the excitement of training and battle, but you wished he would spare a little time to cater to your issues. His absence during your monthly checkups is not unusual. For the first three he held your hand and sat with you, on the fourth he left in the middle due to an urgent matter, and these last two he has been out of the castle altogether. Since your third appointment, when your hopes of being pregnant were at its highest, he seemed to have a very negative attitude toward your checkups. He told you he did not intentionally avoid these meetings, and you think that is partly true, but you know that he must hate the constant rejection and is deliberately making himself unavailable when he thinks you will be rejected again. He would much rather hear the bad news from you instead of your cold doctor.

When you asked your father to accompany you, he sort of grimaced and then politely declined. You understand, the thought of addressing the fact that your daughter has not only been deflowered, but is being repeatedly taken in the efforts of bearing fruit is sickening to you, too. Also, he is not very adept at comforting you when you break down like this, face buried in your husband’s pillows and shoulders shaking with sobs.

Telling by the ache in your skull and the completely soaked through cushion beneath your head, a long time has passed by the time you finally raise your face at the sound of Jimin shuffling into your bedroom. He shivers once the door is closed again, expecting warmth but being met with bitterness.

“It is freezing in here.” He rasps beneath his breath, ignoring you momentarily to light the fireplace, moving to shed the outer layers of his clothing once the fire is of decent size. The single glance he took at you upon entering is all he needed to know what has transpired, and he is in no rush to hear the devastating words. It’s only until he is in comfortable attire that he turns to face you, easing your head onto his chest with a curled bottom lip before he’s even settled properly on the mattress. “My love...”

Your tears flow freely onto his chest and he says nothing, sighing into your hair because by now this has become a common occurrence.

“She said it might be,” You snivel, “because of the poison.” He closes his eyes, having suspected the same thing but praying that it was not true. He wondered if the poison would have any long lasting effects on you, or on your future offspring, but dismissed the thought immediately. Although he knows nothing of what the doctor has said, he feels discouraged nonetheless. His past failure to protect you continues to circle around his head like a vulture, tormenting him to no end and making its appearance to pick at his wounds whenever he starts to move on from it. Six months feels like a long time, but it is apparent that his emotional scars need far longer to fully heal. And for that he owes to Jinwoo.

“I am s-sorry for being s-so weak.” You wipe your nose, face red and puffy from both tears and embarrassment. “Half a year ago you had not yet seen me shed tears, and now...” Almost as if the word itself had summoned them, fresh droplets fall from your eyes, looking pitifully up at the man who had stolen your heart. Only, he must have given it back to you at some point because you feel too much these days and you are tired of hurting like this. God, you probably look so ugly right now, you can feel how swollen and red your eyes and cheeks are, your self confidence plummeting to an all-time low.

“You are beautiful and strong, (Y/n), do not ever think less of yourself. You have good reason to feel the way you do, please do not think that you have to be stoic in front of me.” Like always, Jimin says exactly the right thing to ease your mind, using his hand to wipe your wet face and burrowing into the sheets with you attached to his side, his heat warming the icy sheets that drowned you when you had been alone.

You retired to bed early last night, which is why you can afford to wake up with the sun this morning. Jimin sleeps soundly behind you, but his presence is felt stiffly on your ass between the thin layers of clothing. Snow twinkles on your windowsill, probably the last snow of the season, but you find the sun beaming as brightly as ever to illuminate the room. With the weather beginning to warm in preparation for spring, you’ve grown accustomed to the gentle sound of melting snow dripping outside your window. Mornings like these are scarce and you plan to make the most of it.

You attempt to turn and face your beloved, but his arms tighten around your waist, locking you in your position. A sleepy groan tickles your ear, the vibrations of his voice sending a shiver through you.

“You’re up early.” Jimin mumbles, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. His voice is always so deep and raspy in the mornings, his dialect coming forth with a yawn. You could listen to him speak like that forever, but all you can think about at the moment is how good his moans would sound with the added rumble of bass that comes from sleep.

“So are you.” You snort with a sly wiggle of your hips. The twitch of his length against you sends a flash of exhilaration through your system— time has been short lately and it has been far too long since you’ve last felt him. Apparently he feels the same way, his hand effortlessly gliding up your rib cage to palm at your clothed breast with a deep sigh. You can tell his eyes are still closed due to the laziness of his movements, but it doesn’t matter when his tender touches set your body on fire like this.

His lips find their way to your neck as he shifts closer, kissing and sucking gently enough not to leave marks but to get your heart racing with need. “Take this off.” You follow his instructions and promptly shed the nightgown from your body, leaving you nude against him as he presses himself to you once again, this time slipping a hand between your legs. Your nipples harden from the brief chill of the room before you adjust the covers over your shoulder again, and Jimin takes advantage of this with two fingers, twisting the bud between them to send a spike of pleasure down your spine.

You muffle a groan once his fingers begin to tease at your lower lips, spreading them and toying with the outer skin just to build your anticipation. He wants you to drip before he’s even touched you properly, to whimper into the sheets until you can’t take it anymore and call out his name in frustration. Your clit gets pinched between his fingers when he squeezes them closed, trapping the bud as he continues to rub you up and down, and you find yourself panting in a matter of seconds. Soon, his fingers start to get coated in the essence that seeps from you. It’s so sexy that he can barely stand it. Jimin loves to feel your warm juices trickling out of you, working you up almost feels better than tending to himself, and his breathing hitches too when you begin to wiggle in his grasp.

“Look at my gorgeous Queen, getting soaking wet from just a few light touches. So cock hungry this early in the morning.” His words make you quiver and whine, the teasing quality of his voice right up against the shell of your ear driving you absolutely insane. “I’ll give you what you want if you tell me~” You hadn’t expected him to be so playful after just waking up, but it’s a pleasant surprise.

“I want you to make me cum,” You breathe out between pants. “Then I want you to pump me full of your seed. Please, My King.” Your words have their own special effect on him, evident by the lustful groan he releases into your hair and how his hips subtly shift behind you. Immediately, his fingers move to your clit to lightly graze over the hood until you buck into him, only then does he add pressure. Your back arches into his palm as he continues to play with your nipple, having turned his attention to the other in order to provide the same treatment, pulling and tweaking at it, working the nerves until they’re raw and sensitive enough to have you gasping with every flick.

Jimin doesn’t need to be able to see you in your entirety to know how you look right now. You’re completely helpless to his touch, he can feel you writhing against him and heating up the space between the sheets as your temperature rises. He can feel your heart beating hard against your chest— and he wonders if you can feel his from his position pressed against your back. It has been a while since he’s allowed himself to indulge in these fantasies. He’s pleased to know that he still has every inch of you committed to memory and is able to so easily have you at his fingertips, quite literally. These past months, your focus has been solely on procreating in the bedroom and rarely for the fun of it, so this is refreshing. But he still asks anyway.

“You want me to spill my seed into you, hm? Are you fertile right now?” His words slip past your ears as you lose yourself to the circles he draws into your bud, but somehow you manage to catch them at the last second.

“It does not matter, I want you anyway.” The answer is no, you aren’t at your most fertile at the moment, but this isn’t about that. Regardless of if anything will come of it or not, you want to feel Jimin paint your walls white with his love, something you think you’ve become addicted to. You bask in the feeling of having him throb and twitch and lose control while at the mercy of your tight walls, even when he’s pounding your weak frame into whatever surface he’s decided to take you on, and the thought has you galloping toward your peak faster than expected.

His leg slips between yours to prop them open, two of his fingers dancing their way into your clenching entrance, the intrusion pulling a loud moan from your lips. They glide and twirl within you much to your delight, but before you can enjoy it fully, they pop out and slither back up to your clit with a thick coating of your own slick. It doesn’t bother you, you could cum like this easily, but what really makes you gape is the feeling of Jimin’s hard member grinding against your ass. You can feel that his briefs are now damp with a mixture of precum and your wetness as you continue to drip down your thighs and make a mess of yourself, and you can’t help but rock your hips into his motion. You grind into each other with sensual synchronization and soon he’s panting along with you, the swollen head of his cock peeking out from his briefs to wet your cheek, teasing you endlessly.

“Jimin,” You whine, praying that he’ll let you cum quickly this morning despite his teasing mood. Every buck into his fingers shoots jolts of pleasure through you and every press against his hot cock has you throbbing at your emptiness. It’s a never-ending loop that has both of you moaning in no time, and it isn’t long before the coil in your stomach tightens to its peak. “Fuck, I’m cumming.” You whisper quietly, your breath being stolen away by the feeling of your orgasm. Your husband groans behind you, forcing his own hips to jerk to a stop as you roll against him to ride out the waves. He can feel you pulsing against his fingers and suddenly craves to feel you around his member, removing his hand from between your legs to push away his bottoms.

“Are you ready for me, darling?” He whispers with soft kisses to your shoulder as you begin to relax again. His tip glides effortlessly against your drenched lips and the fire inside you reignites instantly.

“I am always ready for you, my love.” Turning your head, you find his lips and savor the passionate kiss you share, a warmth blooming in your chest that saves you from the cold of the bedroom. Ever so slowly he pushes inside you, bringing a hand up to hold your face to his as his tongue slips between your lips. Vibrations mingle throughout your bodies as you both moan, the insertion tight as he stretches you open in the early morning light, his morning wood always so sensitive especially with your recent bout of abstinence. On the first thrust his fingers intertwine with yours, and this is the most intimate moment you’ve had with him in a long while. It feels like ages have passed since you’ve indulged each other in slow sex and you are starting to realize just how much you’ve craved it. “I missed you.” You mumble against his lips, barely wanting to pull away to look at him.

“I’ve missed you, too.” Jimin smiles, his eyes still closed but hand still caressing your face. He uses it to skim down your figure, hooking under your leg to lift it over his own and allow him deeper into your cavern, angling himself until you squeeze his hand with a shaky moan.

He honestly thinks he could stay like this forever: wrapped up in your warmth, surrounded by blankets, giving you all the love and pleasure he can provide. Things have been so hectic these last few months, an odd tension growing between you two that he can always feel but can’t quite put his finger on, but in these calm moments before the chaos of the day, he feels completely safe and at ease. Being King is no easy task, this he expected, but this is the only time he gets to shed the expectations, the pretenses, the pressure and just be your lover. Just like at the beginning of your relationship— and how things were 8 months ago, when the Crown was first placed in his hands.

You feel almost like a rag doll in his arms as he snaps his hips into you, allowing him to take you and guide you to bliss. Your hips rock back into him subtly, inner muscles squeezing around his shaft and gripping onto him, begging him to stay buried inside to occupy your lonely walls and empty womb. Pressure builds in your lower abdomen again, accompanied by a flush that takes over your body and warms you uncomfortably under the sheets. Jimin tosses the coverings aside when it gets too much, sweat slicking where your bodies connect. Your nails dig into the flesh of his ass when you reach a hand back to rest on the muscle, groaning at how you can feel every movement whenever his hips surge forward, his strength jolting you with his slow, powerful strokes. His length curves perfectly inside you, touching all your favorite spots and it becomes increasingly apparent that you won’t last long like this. He encourages you with gentle sweet nothings tickled against your ear.

“My lovely wife, always so good to me.” Jimin nuzzles his face in your hair, pulling you impossibly closer as his hand returns to your breast. “Always so soft and wet around my cock, darling. Are you getting close again, my love?” You whimper loudly and nod, not trusting your voice entirely when you’re feeling so breathless. “You sound so sweet moaning for me like that. Shall we let the entire castle know what a splendid morning we’re having together? Let them hear how well your King takes care of you.”

“Jimin~” You croon as he picks up pace, hips slapping against your backside and filling the air alongside your heavy breathing. Removing his bottom hand from yours, he props himself up on his elbow to look down over you, opening his legs wider to gain as much leverage as possible to fuck into you. The speed and power he achieves like this has you crying out into the open air, uncaring of who hears how wrecked you sound. You’re certain that the guards keeping watch at your door are uncomfortable by the display of lust, but who are they to judge when Jimin touches just the right places within you to have your body coming apart at the seams?

“Cum for me, my love,” Your husband’s voice feels distant as your thoughts float away. You are not aware enough to marvel at the sheer strength and endurance of his hips, his pace not faltering even once. Crumpling the sheets beneath you, you turn your face into the pillow as your body starts to quiver, a warm hand gripping onto your hip to keep you in place against the onslaught of pleasure. “There you go, milk me of my seed.”

Just the simple thought he plants in your mind’s eye is enough to send you into heaven, your walls clamping down around him with a scream of bliss, just as he requested. Feeling him so deeply makes your eyes roll, every stroke kissing the entrance of your womb and you pray he gives you every last drop he has. With only a few more pushes of his hips, you feel his body tense behind you and shiver, an overwhelmingly sexy groan breathed right into your ear.

It takes several moments of gentle thrusting before he’s satisfied, your body sufficiently full of his sperm and skin tingling with the aftermath of a beautiful orgasm you happily shared. Jimin kisses his way down from the side of your cheeks and neck to your shoulder and arm, ignoring the thin layer of perspiration that dries quickly in the brisk morning air. Though soft, he remains inside of you as he settles himself back against the mattress and holds your body to his, lifting the sheets to cover you before the chill returns. You feel safe. Completely and utterly safe and comfortable in your lover’s arms as you drift back to sleep.

But the peace is short lived because just as you begin to dream again, you feel Jimin pull out of you and shift away, attempting to be as stealthy as possible as he slips from bed. He winces when you turn to your other side to face him, sleepy eyes watching as he pulls on his underwear again. You are unable to return the sweet smile he offers you, already missing the way his skin felt against yours.

“Will you not stay to cuddle me?” You ask quietly, unable to understand why he must leave so soon. The smile on his face turns sad, eyes flickering to the door as several consecutive knocks sing on the wood.

“I have many duties to fulfill today, my love.”

‘And no time for me...’ You think with a poorly concealed frown, burrowing deeper into the bedspread when he opens the door for your servants, who get to work on preparing him for the day immediately. Deep down you know you likely will not interact with him until nightfall as he scrambles around the castle and kingdom serving his duties, but you try not to feel the distasteful irritation in your chest and send him off with a kiss when he makes his exit. Sometimes, though, you cannot help but think he was more eager to be with you when he was merely a soldier.

Jimin sits at a round table meeting with his advisors to discuss the affairs of the kingdom, in which there is not much to report. This is a mandatory meeting they must have weekly and they rarely last long. Most of the time, the conversations divulge into unrelated, off topic subjects just to pass the time, and Jimin has no problem with this on most days. He has a good relationship with his advisors and there is almost never any need for him to use his status as King during their discussions. Today, however, his fuse is a little short. It may be because of the all too frequent restless nights he has been experiencing, or from the lack of quality time he has spent with you, but he is far more irritable than usual. All he can think about is how disappointed you looked when he left and how much he’d rather be cuddled up back in bed with you instead of sitting in front of this counsel.

“Do not worry, the Queen has already taken care of it.” Someone says, he does not know who said it because he is barely paying attention.

“Pardon my coarseness, Your Highness, but it is my understanding that Her Majesty has not yet conceived.” The man presents this in a questioning manner, but Jimin can hear the underlying condescension.

“You are correct.” He replies in a low voice.

“It has been 9 months since your matrimony. She should bear your heirs with haste.” The room swells with voices as his advisors begin to talk about you, each taking their turn to put in their opinions and criticism. He can hardly believe what he is hearing. They speak as though it is your fault that you are not pregnant, as if you are being defiant by not bearing him children, like it is a choice that you have made consciously. Anger bubbles in his chest, blood boiling as they continue ranting about you right in front of him as though they were not saying terrible things about his wife. He stands abruptly upon hearing someone tell a story about how his wife refused to birth him any more children because he “was acting like one” himself. Jimin interrupts just as the man is about to make a comment about stubborn wives, his voice billowing from his throat like heavy plumes of smoke that quickly engulf the room.

“How dare you speak of my wife— your Queen— in such a disrespectful manner! Do you accuse her of treachery against me? Against this nation? You have the gall to insult her efforts on something she cannot control, to doubt her intentions and loyalty to this kingdom and her own family? I should have you all removed from this castle permanently for suggesting such a thing, what do you have to say about that?!” He looks around the silent room at each of their faces, all of them looking utterly shocked by his outburst. Jimin has never needed to assert his authority over them like this, but they have gone too far today. Though he is the youngest in the room, he is easily the most intimidating when angry, regardless of if he were the King or not. Drawing in a deep breath, he tries to calm himself, running a hand through his hair as he takes his seat once more. “It is my fault anyway, not hers. It is my duty as well.”

It is quiet for a long while, the men around the table hesitate to speak again until one man builds up the courage to break the stillness.

“Do not despair, Your Highness, you are both still young, there is plenty of time to have children.” He reassures, followed by similar comforting phrases from the others. Jimin does not respond as he stares out of the window, a solemn look overtaking his face in place of the relaxed and neutral expression he normally wears. He wonders if you face this criticism regularly wherever you go, if people who are supposed to be your supporters are slowly losing hope in you. You already beat yourself up about not being pregnant, he fears what would happen if those thoughts were validated by others. Something must be done about this immediately.

It is silent for another long pause. “You are all dismissed.” He says with a flick of his hand.

*** *** ***

Your servants follow you around quite stubbornly, attempting (and failing) to be as unnoticeable as possible, but their presence is the only thing you can focus on. If you sigh too heavily they all come scurrying over, asking what was the matter, offering to take care of whatever task you had set out to complete. Yes, it was your mother’s dying wish for you to accept your loyal attendants, and it was your father’s order for them to look after you, but you cannot help but feel that this treatment is a bit excessive. It is almost laughable when you reflect on it: how just a year prior you were known largely for your independence, and now you could hardly find a moment to yourself. The only times you can get away with having minimal supervision is when you go out into town, where you may request only one or two guards or servants to accompany you.

Since becoming the official Queen of this nation, you have taken it upon yourself to care for the nuances of your society, to help individuals and keep a close relationship with the people. Jimin was focused on many of the larger issues that affected groups of citizens, like rebuilding one of the marketplaces that suffered damages in a fire last week, as well as handling international business with neighboring kingdoms. Naturally, everyone took a great liking to him and his policies and the people offered him immense support, but your job as Queen was to support the people. So, every week you go into town and buy a book from a novice writer, read it, then publish an unofficial review for the stories you enjoy. Not only does this boost the writer’s credibility, popularity, and sales, it also allows you to communicate with your people. Your presence in town never goes unnoticed, and often times people give you great recommendations on stories you should interest yourself with. It is the highlight of your week since all you can do is read in the quiet moments within the castle.

It is now early spring, trees budding with sweet smelling blossoms and the beginnings of greenery, displaying their proud potency in brilliant hues that bleach you into the gray of a dead willow. Still, your spirits are beginning to lift the farther you distance yourself from the castle. Walking through town, you breathe in all of the scents around you. Street vendors sell an array of foods that you do not see within the castle often and your mouth waters as you step up to one, picking out a pastry covered in sugar, something that you can easily pull apart with your fingers without the need of utensils. Before you can lift it to your mouth, the guard beside you stops you, plucking a small piece for himself to taste for poison. As a royal, you always thought this job was unnecessary and ridiculous before, but after the catastrophe at your wedding, you now understand it’s significance. That does not stop you from pouting, however, as you are forced to wait at least 5 minutes before the stiff guard allows you to dig into your snack.

You continue through the market, admiring crafts from artisans with masterful handiwork and struggle to keep your hand out of your purse whenever something catches your eye. This market is not the closest to the palace, in fact, it is quite far from it, but you have found that the most valuable work comes from the honest workers that live in smaller homes and lead honest lives, not from the traders and merchants who buy their goods from others and claim them as their own in the wealthy districts. The people who live on the outskirts work harder, and they are the ones you need to support the most.

“This would look beautiful hanging from the palace walls, don’t you think?” You turn toward Lilian as she browses the collection of jewelry that sits beside the tapestry you are holding, her eyes inspecting it briefly.

“I think it would look lovely in one of the sitting rooms.” She grins. Lilian always accompanies you on these types of trips. You value her opinion and reason and sympathize with her lack of outside interaction. Both of you are in the palace at almost all times and you are sure you both would go crazy if not for these couple hours outside those claustrophobic walls.

“I think so, too!” You agree, turning to the guard who continues to survey the area. “What do you think, Kyungsoo?”

He looks at it for a while, then at the others around it, finally bringing his eyes back to yours. “Whatever you desire, Your Majesty. My opinion is insignificant.” His answer causes your face to fall, rolling your eyes at him because he always says that. This is another reason why you bring Lilian along.

Sauntering into your favorite bookstore, you cheerfully greet the clerk and begin browsing for newly released books. Not long after, two women approach you, one of which you recognize to be the bookkeeper’s daughter and a new friend of yours. She always comes to talk to you about the store’s newest additions, and it gives others around her the confidence to speak to you as well. Today she is with a slightly older woman who she introduces as a rising author.

“I believe I have read one of your books before; remind me, which ones have you written?” You prompt, making the woman blush and brighten.

“Snowflower is my most popular work. It is all thanks to your review that I was finally able to get noticed in the writing community!” She beams, sparking conversation with you and Lilian about the book that the two of you enjoyed so much. It must be more than 15 minutes later that you finally decide on what to purchase, you have been listening closely to all that the ladies have to say about each author and the summaries of each story. There were multiple that piqued your interest and you could not decide so you ended up with 3 books in hand as your friend walked you to the register. One of them happens to be a story following the trials and struggles of a mother who becomes pregnant during a war. Of course you hadn’t picked this book for its theme of motherhood. It promised to be a good read— though you had overlooked it many times before today— and you certainly did not choose it because it was the closest thing to a lesson on pregnancy you could get without purchasing the entire series of “Preparing for Parenthood”, perched on a shelf that you found yourself eying the majority of your stay in the store.

Your friend talks mindlessly as she rings you up for your books, inspecting your odd selection. “So tell me, Your Majesty, are you with ch- ow!” The woman beside her pinches her arm just out of your sight, offering up a tight lipped smile when she turns to pout at her. A short flash of realization crosses her face before she returns her attention to you.

“Am I with whom?” You ask, confused.

“Are you with t-the children! Have you- have you come to see the preschoolers perform today?” She covers quickly with a nervous smile. Lilian glares at her when you are facing the other way.

“Oh! I recall hearing that they will be performing a play today, I nearly forgot!” The people around you sigh in relief at your obliviousness, resuming conversation as though nothing had happened. They give you instructions to the school and you rush there, Lilian carrying your books and Kyungsoo leading the way.

When you arrive, there are only parents and family members filling the auditorium, signifying that the play has not yet started. They chat amongst themselves in a rumble of murmurs, but the noise quiets quickly once you are noticed by a teacher that stands near the stage area.

“Her Majesty!” She gasps. “Welcome, welcome!” She practically runs to you, approaching clumsily while Kyungsoo moves to shield you with his body, stopping the woman before she can get too close. You gently move him aside to allow the woman to see and speak directly to you. “I had no idea that the Queen would be visiting today! To what do I owe you the pleasure?”

“I have come to see the children perform. It is imperative of me as Queen to support our kingdom’s youth.” You smile, noticing a weird look that crosses her face for a moment before smoothing out. Lilian has a tight smile spread across her lips just out of your peripheral.

“Of course! Well, you are just in time, the show is about to begin.” She tries to clear the front row of parents for you, but you insist that the parents of the children should get the best seats, settling for the chairs she pulls up for you at the sides of the small theater.

The moment the toddlers waddle onto stage in their costumes, your heart liquifies. They are the cutest things you have ever seen. Some of them look confused, some are pouting, but most of them are excitedly waving at their parents in the crowd, nearly tripping over each other from not looking at what’s happening in front of them. Even more heartwarming is the reactions of the parents, each and every one of them sitting up straighter and beaming with joy at the sight of their offspring, even the parents who had previously looked bored. Your attention is split between what is happening onstage and in the crowd throughout the entire play, watching the silent interactions between child and parent. You could always tell which tot belonged to which parent because of their reactions. Every child had their own lines, and whenever one stepped up to speak, the parents would lean in closer to the stage or straighten up to send a thumbs up to the wide eyes that stare back at them.

At some point, you had begun to imagine what it would be like if your own child were up there. You scan the faces of the toddlers, determining that a shy little girl bears the closest resemblance to your future baby, and you watch her the entire rest of the play. Her finger reaches into her nose several times during the performance, something your toddler would be forced to learn not to do, and she appears to be quite hesitant to say her lines. You and Jimin would act just as her parents are now, waving at her and mouthing words of encouragement when it seems like she will not speak at all, smiling proudly after she executes her parts flawlessly. Jimin would probably hold your hand as you watch her and you would be able to feel the sweat on his palms from how much he would worry for her, whispering to you how he hopes she will not cry because of how shy and quiet she tends to be. And you would whisper back that your baby is talented and will do great because she is very mature for her age, being a Princess and all.

Your eyes do not leave the girl for a minute and you are so caught up in your fantasy that you almost miss when everyone stands to clap at the end of the show. You rise slowly and offer your applause, cheeks hurting from smiling too much, but you cannot ignore the bittersweet feeling in your chest that comes when all of the children disperse and run into the arms of their waiting parents. And you are forced to remember your situation. The teacher begs you to make closing remarks and you take your place on the empty stage to address your people. Unable to focus properly, you barely know what you are saying; you thank the students and teachers for a great show, repeat a total of 4 times how adorable the children were, speak at length about how much you enjoyed everything, and once you notice that you’re rambling, you conclude quickly and move from the spotlight awkwardly. The families don’t seem to notice as they return their attention to gushing over their babies.

Just as you are about to make your exit, someone runs up to you and stops at your feet, her hair barely reaching the bottoms of your knees as she looks up at you. It is the girl you had been watching, and her arms reach up to be held once you make eye contact with her. At the approval of her parents, you lift her light body and rest her on your hip, the position comfortable and natural despite you having held a child only a few times in your life. You congratulate her and she smiles at you, turning to look at her parents as you try not to marvel at how perfectly innocent and sweet her face is.

“Your Majesty,” Her mother greets with a bow. “I was very surprised to see you here today. I had heard that you often come to these parts of town, but I would have never expected you to grace us with your presence on an occasion like this.” She is very polite, noting how the little girl has taken a liking to you already.

“I believe it is important to keep in touch with my people, and what better way is there to connect with you all than to attend a performance of my kingdom’s children?” You grin.

“I heard rumors that lately you had been feeling quite under the weather.” At this you quirk an eyebrow. She continues. “Many had assumed you were pregnant, so word spread that the King would not allow you out of the palace and that is why you had been absent for the past few weeks.” As if Jimin could tell you what to do. Yes, it is true that you had not gone outside of the palace in about 3 weeks, but that was of your own accord.

Jimin’s mother had taken a short vacation to your home upon your request after you detailed to her your troubles with conceiving in a lengthy letter, and she spent those three weeks improving your physical health with things like yoga and kegal exercises, as well as offering you very blunt and personal advice that you were almost too embarrassed to put into practice. Jimin warned you of how she was unafraid to talk about intimate topics, recalling a specific conversation she had with him in his teenage years, but you were still unprepared for the sheer amount of information she gave you during that time. You simply did not have time to go on your weekly shopping trips.

“That is... not the case.” You reply, adjusting the girl on your hip.

“Oh, then you are not pregnant?” The woman seems surprised and Lilian seems almost outraged, cutting in when you open and close your mouth with no other response.

“We have not been to this part of your town yet, are there any places you suggest we visit?” Lilian’s voice sounds through her teeth, swiftly changing the subject. You didn’t think you would have trouble talking about this, but here you stand, blinking away tears at her question. The girl’s mother seems to realize her mistake when she takes in your watery eyes that you try to hide with a fake smile. You let Lilian continue her conversation as you wander away a few steps, pretending to inspect your surroundings as you gather yourself, until a nearby newspaper catches your eye. On the cover are the words “KING’S NEW ORDERS! PROTECT THE QUEEN” and your heart jumps at the suddenness. You bend carefully to turn the page and read the article, a mix of emotions rushing through your body that almost makes you lose grip on the child in your arms when you understand their significance. You quickly return her to her parents, excusing yourself from them on the pretense that you had to be back at the palace for important business, and you instruct Kyungsoo to guide you back to the carriage to head home.

Upon entering your bedroom, Jimin finds a note on the bed in your writing, reading it with curiosity. It leads him to a familiar place and he hurries there with mild concern, mind rushing with thoughts of what your note could have meant.

Curled up in your favorite chair, he finds you reclining with a new book in hand as you look through the window of your Secret Library. Your servants know nothing of this place, you and Jimin have made certain that it’s location remains hidden, so this is the only place you can truly be alone. To his knowledge, you only come here when something is troubling you or when you need to think, and his mind jumps to all of the worst case scenarios of what could have happened.

“My love, you wished to speak with me?” He asks, approaching urgently as according to your urgent letter. But you remain relaxed and unresponsive as you continue to flip through the pages of your novel. He looks down to inspect your choice reading, taking note that it speaks of a woman who, in this current scene, is just learning that she is pregnant. You take your time reading it, only turning to him after the chapter is finished. When you turn to him your eyes are blank and unreadable.

“Why have you placed a censorship on our people, My King?” You ask suddenly, and it takes him aback.

“A c-censorship?” He stutters out.

“Yes, you recently placed a censorship on the people of this kingdom, have you not?” You look him in the eyes and find that he can barely hold eye contact, his entire body tense. It is difficult for him to respond, especially since you were not supposed to know about this, at least not this soon.

“It is not a censorship.” He evades.

“Really? So you have not ordered our people to be silent about anything pertaining to pregnancy and children around me?” He fidgets under your piercing tongue, unsure of how to respond. “That sounds quite close to censorship to me.”

“It is only to protect you, My Queen,” He relents, stepping closer to you as you snap your book closed. “People can be very insensitive and I did not want you to be hurt by their words.”

“Hurt by their words? What words would they have said to me? I am not a child, Jimin, you need not protect me from words!” Your volume rises along with the redness of your face. “Are the people criticizing me in some way? What have they said? What have you heard to make you so wary of words?”

“Their words hurt me, (Y/n).” He says quietly as he lowers himself to his knees and takes hold of your hands when he sees the worry in your eyes. “What I heard hurt me, and I could not bear the thought that you may hear such things too. I did not do this because I think you are not strong enough to endure it, I did it because you do not deserve to hear such negativity.”

“Even so, how dare you make such a rash decision without consulting me.” You remove your hands from his and he does not reach for them again. “You saw me directly after your council meeting last week and mentioned not a word of this to me. If you had asked, I would have told you that none of this is necessary, that I can handle whatever my people have to say about me because I am the Queen!” Your voice cracks annoyingly as you fight back hot tears. “I should be able to answer them when they ask me questions. And maybe I should hear what they say about me. Because they are correct, I am not pregnant and I do not know if I can ever become pregnant and maybe they should be worried. My sensitivity should not warrant their silence.”

“You are not sensitive, my love, you have every right to feel the way that you do.” You ignore him.

“But what troubles me the most is how you so easily excluded me. You acted without my consent and planned to keep this from me indefinitely— you even made sure Lilian was the first to know so that she could keep watch over me today! What happened to our communication, Jimin? We should be able to talk to each other about anything and everything, but instead you felt the need to keep something so important a secret from me. You could have simply talked to me and told me how you feel. It feels as though we have not spoken in days, it is almost like you aren’t trying anymore. It feels like you have given up.”

The fire in your tone dies down until all that is left is pain, and Jimin realizes that it is he who has hurt you the most.

Lilian told him about where you went today and how you acted. She told him of the lost and pained look in your eyes as you watched the children, even though you were smiling. Most importantly, she relayed your exact reaction when that woman asked if you were pregnant. It was just as he had feared. Putting these pieces of information together with the book you had been reading, Jimin knows that this argument is about more than what you’d like him to believe.

“This is no longer about the censorship, is it?” He asks cautiously, guilt leaking onto his features. You appear shocked at first, not having realized your own subliminal shift from the topic, but then your face twists with emotion and you bite your lip and turn your head from him in an effort to hold yourself together. You are tired of crying in front of him.

“You-“ Sniffling, you try to control the shakiness of your voice. “You do not talk to me anymore. I never know how you are feeling these days because you have been avoiding me.”

“I do not try to avoid you, my love.” He frowns, moving his hand to rest on your knee.

“It feels like you are. You do not come to my health examinations anymore, you can never seem to make time for them.” He opens his mouth to speak, but you don’t let him. “I am always forced to go through them alone and I sit there the entire time wishing that you were there to hold me or reassure me, but I’m always alone. And it may be easier for you to hear the bad news from my mouth, but it hurts me more every time I am forced to tell you that I have failed once again. And we haven’t tried in a long while, I am beginning to fear that you no longer want to touch me.” Your eyes convey a deeper pain than your words can communicate, and the earnestness in them when you look at him breaks his heart. He didn’t mean to make you feel this way, it‘s the last thing he would want.

“I still very much want you, My Queen, I always will. I have been hesitant to initiate anything with you as of late because you seemed so disheartened and dejected and I did not want to further upset you with inappropriate timing. I have also been struggling to keep my optimism, forgive me for my misjudgment.”

“That is another problem,” You sigh, knitting your eyebrows. “I have no idea what you are thinking or feeling. You always comfort me and tell me that I can be open with my emotions with you, yet you do not listen to your own advice and tend to lock up around me. It will not lessen my sadness, but to know that you are just as affected by this as I am and that I am not overreacting would give me the tiniest bit of comfort. But when you force yourself to appear unaffected, it feels as though I am the only one who cares.”

“But I am the King,” Jimin starts, conflicted. “I cannot afford to show weakness or lament in our misfortunes. I must be strong for the people.”

“Strength is not the only trait of value!” You hiss, irritated that he has this perception that is so inaccurate. “Emotion does not always entail vulnerability and the people will see that. They adore how much you care about them, how you grieve with them when you learn of their losses, so why would it be inappropriate for you to care about me? Do not forget that you are also my husband. That is what you signed up for on our wedding day; you married me and the kingdom followed. Why is it that I am never your priority?!”

Sadness transforming into boiling rage, you stand and push past him toward the exit. This is your first real argument with him and it seems that everything that has been bothering you for the past few months is now exploding out of your mouth. You did not mean for your words to be so harsh, yet you could not control them and figured that you should let everything out while you had the chance. Much of your frustration is about your own incompetence, but you redirect it toward him because you cannot handle anymore mental self-abuse. A tiny part of you wants him to yell back at you and affirm everything you already thought about the direction of your relationship just so you could be right about something for once. Most of you, however, wants him to run after you, take you into his arms, look you in the eye and dispel all of your worries by pouring out his heart to you.

And that is exactly what he does.

“My love, do not run away.” He says gently, grabbing your hand before you can even make it 3 steps past him. He moves to the front of you, taking your face in his palms so he can stare into your eyes, hoping they can fill in the blanks between his words. “You are always my priority and you always will be. I-“ He sighs, looking away for a second before returning to you. “I do not always make the best choices, and for that I apologize. Being your husband and a King is far different than being a military general, and it is taking longer to adjust than I anticipated. I love you so much, to the point where I am afraid of making mistakes and losing your heart somehow, so I try too hard to be perfect. I take care of your kingdom because it was yours before it was mine and I know how dearly you hold it’s people. I try to be as tough as possible for you because I thought you would expect it of me when you were feeling weak.” His hands fall to your shoulders. “As a General, I learned that the only way to gain respect and love was to work hard and solve all issues, but it appears that I will need a different mindset in this situation. Because it seems I have become too consumed with work and too busy to show my love for you, and I know I will need to change that if I want to be a good father to our children.”

“You do not need to change at all, Jimin. Who you are trying so hard to be is not the same man you were when I met you. Yes, you were strong in front of others, but you never closed yourself to me. I do not want you to change or pretend to be tough, I want you to be you, because that is who I married.” This causes him to think back to how he has behaved in recent months. Maybe he was avoiding your appointments purposely so he wouldn’t have the chance to break down in front of the doctor or Lilian. And maybe he had been ignoring you so he wouldn’t have to face his own pain that you reflected. He’s been treating you unfairly in an effort to play a role that doesn’t exist, and he welcomes the guilt that slaps him in the face at the realization. He hates that he ended up like this even after all that you went through in the aftermath of your wedding. It is like he had forgotten all that he promised you.

“I apologize for everything, My Queen. I will remove the censorship immediately.” His head bows with heaviness. “I do still want a family with you, but maybe we should take a break from trying, just for a little while. Maybe this building friction between us and the stress it caused has been affecting our fertility. Maybe we are trying too hard and should take your advice to just be ourselves. A baby should be made from love, not by expectation. I do not want-“ He thinks about his next sentence carefully. “I want to improve our relationship first, before our attention is shifted to other matters. We are young and have not yet been married a year, my love, we will have plenty of time to conceive. Let me make up for the neglect you have suffered these past months. Let us take it one day at a time.”

He’s right, your relationship has been strained, and it is not only from the fact that you are not pregnant. The discord between you two has taken a toll on your body: you are constantly exhausted, your head pounds with headaches most days, and the loneliness has changed your positive attitude into one of sulking and disdain. It has changed you. So how could you think of bringing a child into this world when you are at this level of dysfunction? Things needed to be resolved first, and here he is, willing to work everything out with you after accepting his faults. You couldn’t possibly reject him.

It’s been nearly a month since your argument, and things have taken a turn for the better. You helped Jimin realize something he didn’t quite understand before: that as King, anything he says goes, so he has been taking frequent days off to spend time with you. He’s taken you on many dates around the kingdom, showing you his favorite places to go when he was a child, exploring different towns you hadn’t gotten a chance to see yet, he even accompanied you on your shopping day to meet some of the friends you’d made. Being able to spend time with him like this reminds you of what it felt like in the beginning of your relationship. The novelty of seeing him and the excitement you’d feel in the pit of your stomach. Except this excitement is now from your curiosity of what activities you’ll do with him that day and not from the thrill of possibly being caught together by servants.

You’ve kept things fairly innocent these past few weeks, focusing on rebuilding your emotional connection instead of being physical. You’d lost a lot of weight during the months you were at odds with Jimin, but you’re happy to say that you’re gaining it back now that you’re paying more attention to your health and happiness and not the crazy diets and detoxes that people recommended to you to help with conception. What’s more, you’ve been keeping busy by accompanying Jimin on his political duties instead of remaining put away in the palace. He didn’t want to involve you in political affairs to keep your stress levels low, but you remind him that you’ve been involved in things like that since you where a young princess, so this is the norm. So now you happily travel with him out of the kingdom to attend meetings with neighboring rulers and assure them of your health.

This is the first trip you’ve taken, and it feels absolutely liberating. Seokjin insisted that you and your husband stay in his family’s vacation home located in the area— one of many acquired throughout his travels as a collector and salesman— and it is arguably nicer than the one offered by the royals of this kingdom. Perhaps not as luxurious (though very close to it) but certainly more private. You’d take any opportunity to escape any hovering servants. Your eyes sparkle as you walk through the doors, taking in the modern furniture, high ceilings, and breathtaking view of the green valley and hills surrounding you. The altitude is quite a bit higher than you’re used to, the kingdom poised along a mountainside and sourcing its water from the river that flows through the valley below.

You blame this altitude for the sick feeling in your stomach and the lightness of your head, trying your hardest to keep your etiquette and not plop face first onto the huge mattress. You sit gingerly on the edge, aided by Jimin, who kept hold of your arm ever since he saw you swaying when you stepped out of the carriage. He fusses over you, letting out a disgruntled grumble when you remind him that you saw the doctor before your departure and she found no troubling conditions within you— not even pregnancy, which you were disappointed to hear, but not surprised. The symptoms come and go and you assure him that all you need is some rest and you’ll be back on your feet, and he leaves you under the watch of Lilian and Kyungsoo (who accompany you everywhere) while he travels to the castle to greet the King and assure him of your safe arrival. You nap while he’s away and awake just in time for dinner, feeling refreshed and symptom free, much to his relief.

Being away from the palace and kingdom is sure to do wonders for your physical and mental health. Just being here with the people you love is a breath of fresh air, and you can’t wipe the smile off your face. Seated at the table accompanied by Jimin, Lilian, and Kyungsoo, you feel this is the closest thing you’ll have to a family dinner for a long while. As your servant, Lilian never eats with you at the same time, let alone at the same table, but you begged her to join you and fill the evening air with casual chatter. Kyungsoo is your favorite guard and you’ve always wanted to get to know him, but he remains relatively quiet throughout the meal and never lets his guard down, taking the farthest seat from his monarchs to silently observe. Typical. With your energy levels still quite low, Jimin and Lilian do their best to raise your spirits by showing off their goofy sides, telling stories and making you laugh almost nonstop. But just seeing them bond so well is enough to make your heart swell. You wonder if Jimin will have this type of relationship with your children, one where they can joke freely and build trust with each other without being hindered by the forced power dynamic. You hope their relationship will be better than the somewhat estranged one you have with your father.

“Are you comfortable, my love?” Jimin asks as you settle in for bed. This mattress seems to be made from the clouds of the heavens, you’ve never felt relaxation like this. You’ll have to purchase one for your own bedroom.

“Yes, My King.” You return, grinning at the way his cheeks lift. He climbs in behind you after blowing out the lanterns, the scent of smoke wafting gently through the room.

“How are you feeling? Better?” He sounds tired and you have no desire to keep him awake with your troubles, so you nod.

“Yes, after my nap and dinner, I feel just fine.” You don’t mention your growing headache because you’re certain a good night’s sleep will resolve it. You’re feeling uncharacteristically tired, exhausted even, and it’s most likely from the long journey here. Hopefully, you’ll wake up refreshed and energized in the morning.

“Alright. Let me know if you need anything tonight.” He whispers, already starting to drift off.

“I won’t trouble you.” You assure him, sinking into slumber.

“Are you sure you are well enough to go out today?” Lilian sifts through your clothing, trying to decide what to dress you in for today’s events, accounting for the warm mid-spring weather. She is alone in the bedroom with you, Jimin having stepped out to give you privacy while getting ready.

“Yes, I am feeling much better.” This isn’t a lie. Although you felt extremely sluggish upon first waking up, you now feel great. Jimin had asked you about a thousand questions before leaving bed this morning and at breakfast, and you dispelled each one of his worries with confidence.

“I am glad to hear that, but please do pay attention to your condition, Your Highness.” She says this as she holds up a pristine gown for your approval, handing it to you when you nod both at her words and fashion choice.

She doesn’t need to vocalize what’s on her mind, you know what she’s thinking, and frankly, you’ve been having the same thoughts. But your doctor was very clear that you are not pregnant when you saw her before the trip. Also, you bleed 2 weeks ago, and though it was short-lived, it was accompanied by cramps and headaches, dutifully reminding you of your empty womb. So you ignore Lilian’s concerns and move about your day like normal, smothering the tiny bud of hope that tries to bloom in your chest.

“Are you excited for today’s meeting?” Moving away from the topic, she smiles at you through the mirror at the way your face lights up, beginning her work on your hair.

“This is the most excited I have felt in a long while! It will be my first diplomatic duty as Queen.” Finally, you feel useful.

“Would you like me to accompany you?” What she means is ‘would you like me to keep an eye on you to make sure you are feeling okay/ nothing bad happens’ but you pretend not to notice.

“No, Lilian, I want you to treat this as a vacation of sorts. You work so hard my humble, loyal friend. Go and explore the towns, have fun while we’re away from the kingdom.”

“I do not want a vacation, I want to make sure you are alright.” She responds quietly, blushing. You hum.

“Respectfully, I do not need to be looked after like a child.” You chuckle. “I can do well on my own. Besides, Jimin and Kyungsoo will be there if anything happens.”

“Then I will take my leave tomorrow after I make sure you are alright today.” She says stubbornly, not meeting your eyes in the mirror. “I cannot relax in good conscience without being assured of your safety.” Nodding, you accept her terms with a smirk.

“Always a pleasure to see you, Queen (Y/n).” King Jackson smiles at you, bowing his head in greeting. You grin widely as you sit across from him and his wife at the large conference table, Jimin placed closely at your side.

“You as well, Jackson.” Last you saw him, he was a prince. In fact, he submitted the first marriage proposal you’d ever received, asking your father for your hand in marriage as soon as he heard you were of age. He is a little less than 4 years older than you, handsome, bubbly personality, likable and charming on all fronts, and you had no qualms with marrying him, but you also had no desire to leave your kingdom to rule another. As King, he would have you move into his castle and be at his service where you would likely not hold any power or say in most matters involving the people, something that deeply displeased you, so you turned him down. Now he has a wife and several small children, as well as the throne and an entire kingdom to lead. And as of your coronation, he is your kingdom’s closest ally.

“No need to be so formal, Queen.” He jokes, immediately setting a relaxed atmosphere. You are meeting to discuss and update the terms of a treaty between your allied nations, one that your fathers had written and agreed upon many years ago, but legally needs to be reviewed thanks to the recent shift in power. Your father is quite close with Jackson’s own, therefore you have a good relationship with the young King from years of getting acquainted during your childhood. Jimin, however, has no such history with the man and seems rather tense around the lighthearted playful. “I was disappointed when you refused by marriage proposal, but it seems that you have chosen a handsome and competent spouse in my place, just as I have.” He grins, winking at his wife, Lena.

“It was never ‘your place’, do not be so big headed,” You roll your eyes but he ignores your quip, eyes trained on Jimin.

“We spoke yesterday evening, but I am intrigued to get to know more of you, King Park. May I call you Jimin?” Jackson barely waits for a reply before continuing. “I must know more of the man whom I am to be allied with, and the man who married the ever-so-independent princess.”

“I must admit, I am curious about you, too. But if my beloved trusts and acknowledges you, then I will do the same.” Reaching under the table, Jimin’s hand finds yours and you smirk, pleased that he won’t let the other King intimidate him.

“Regarding the treaty;” Jackson pulls out a long document, skimming over the lengthy script that you are both irritatingly familiar with. “Will our kingdom’s continue to remain allied during times of war, help financially and provide resources in times of natural disaster, respect the borders set by each nation without the intention of gaining territory, and continue to keep trade borders open?” He reads off the major points of the list, you and Jimin answering with a ‘yes’ to each. “Is there anything else you would like to add?”

“Not that I can think of.” You respond, Jimin saying the same. Feeling satisfied by your responses, Jackson signs his name under the print of your fathers, passing the document to you for your signature. But you slide the paper to your husband, whose name appears in ink now instead of yours. Surprised by this, you can see the unfiltered comment bubbling out from the brazen King’s dome.

“I would not have expected, (Y/n), that you would submit the powers of your status to a man.” It is obvious that he has already assumed that your action means that you no longer hold the highest authority in your own land, but you are both quick to correct him.

“You are mistaken.” Your voices harmonize into one as you say this, Jimin continuing on to explain. “My Queen has not yielded even an inch of power to me. As I am sure you know, she is fully capable of handling affairs such as these, any responsibility she has shifted to me has been due to her own discretion.” Though his tongue is quick, Jimin is sure to keep a light, non-malicious tone so as not to offend your friend. You’d much rather focus on internal public affairs, leaving international and business related issues to your husband. But it seems others have the wrong idea about you.

The man across from you blinks at this, raising his eyebrows, and you know Jimin has just gained a large amount of respect in his eyes. You find it quite flattering to see him so defensive of you and you give an approving squeeze of his hand.

“As expected,” Jackson hums with a grin, receiving the document as Jimin passes it back to him. “Well, it seems that our business here is complete! Shall we have champagne to celebrate this swift agreement?” He doesn’t realize his error until his wife nudges him in the ribs and he looks up to see your faces pulled into wide-eyed frowns. “Ah, yes— my apologies,” He scratches his neck bashfully. “Then, may I interest you in some exercise?” Eyes boring straight into Jimin’s, he asks this as the men share a look.

“Oh, this is so exciting!” Lena beams, nearly bouncing in her seat as you both observe from a bench on the side of the field. Somehow you hadn’t expected this when Jackson offered his proposal. Your husbands are standing in a marked area with protective gear covering their bodies and gleaming swords, preparing for a sparring match in the warm weather. The sun beats down on you as you squint at them, using your hand to shade your eyes before Lilian appears with a parasol to place over your head. “Have you ever seen your husband fight before?” She asks, staring at your side profile.

“Never.” You respond. “This should be interesting.” Admittedly, you tend to shy away from violence, resenting the thought of people battling each other for bloody glory. Though you are in charge of the military, you never ask for too many details, and skillfully avoid any training grounds near the castle. It may be ironic, then, that you married a General who has seen more battles than he’s cared to mention and carries more scars than he’d care to explain. But you must admit that you’re intrigued by the spectacle he’s sure to put on for you, comforted by the fact that this is completely safe.

“Jackson has been training sword for most of his life, but has never seen an actual battle. I wonder how their skills will compare.” Lena states proudly, sipping from the drink one of her servants comes to offer, dismissed when you decline.

“I hear that you were a General, King Park.” Jackson checks the cap at the tip of his sword, nodding to the instructor that stands at his side.

“I’d like to think that I still am one.” Jimin responds as he stretches out his stiff muscles.

“Even after being promoted to Commander in Chief?”

“I’ve done nothing to earn that title but get married.” The man before him hums.

“I assume you are quite skilled with a sword then, have you practiced fencing before?”

“Of course, it is taught as the basics of sword fighting. Though, I would not say I am a master.” Humbly, your husband lowers his head to inspect his blade, shaking his head at Jackson’s outcry.

“Nonsense! Any man who has done battle for his life is surely a master. Though, I do ask that you do not hold back on me here; I certainly will not do the same for you.” A wolfish grin creeps up onto both Kings faces, mirroring each other as they pull down the hoods of their face guards.

“You’ve said nothing of your own skill thus far, I will not make the mistake of underestimating you.” The match starts swiftly after they take position, Jackson lunging forward and barely missing Jimin’s side as he dodges out of the way.

Your mouth falls open as they move, each motion calculated and precise. You know nothing about fencing, but it is clear that they are both highly skilled. You’ve never seen your lover move this way before, so dynamic and captivating as though he were performing a dance. Powerful and graceful in every step taken toward his opponent, wielding his blade as though it were an extension of himself. He is beautiful to watch, your heartbeat speeding up in your chest as you are enraptured by the display. Both King’s are even in size and capability, but you can see the ease of movement Jimin possesses compared to Jackson’s deliberate strokes, almost as if he were teasing him. Lena cheers from beside you, but you can’t make a sound. Seeing him like this— completely in his element and moving so gracefully— has your body heating for another reason unrelated to the unrelenting sun. You’ve married an amazing man.

“You’re quick.”

“That is a great compliment, coming from you,” Jackson grunts, keeping Jimin on the defensive with his bold attacks. “But I can tell you are merely playing with me.”

“Not playing.” Waiting. One thing Jimin is an expert at is waiting. Patience is his strength, in fighting and in his daily life. He was patient when it came to you, taking his time with each step of your relationship until he was entirely sure that you were ready, that you wanted him. He was patient with each of his military promotions, climbing up the ranks with hard work and diligence until he was recognized. And he will continue to be patient with the next stage of his life, trying his best not to lose hope that you will become pregnant one day, so he will deal with the disappointment and trials with you for as long as it takes.

As soon as Jackson falters he takes his shot, attacking with swift consecutive swings until his opponent is pushed far back on his side of the space and leaves an opening, one decisive lunge ending the match. They both pant as Jimin’s sword makes contact with the center of the other King’s chest, the cap pressed into the padding protecting his flesh. There’s silence for a beat before they both drop their guard, retuning to the start position. Jimin turns his head to make sure you were watching, lifting his mask to wink at you and smirking salaciously when you blush.

“Well done.” Jackson nods. “But I won’t let you get the better of me next time!”

“Your husband is a bit intense, no?” You ask Lena as she giggles, humming in agreement.

“And it seems your husband is a bit competitive.” You also nod, the heat drying your mouth as you watch her sip her drink again. She calls over her servant when she catches your stare and they hand you a glass— Kyungsoo swooping in annoyingly to try it first before you can taste the sweet liquid. “He seems very fit and possesses a beautiful physique, I’m astounded that you have the willpower to leave bed with a man like that, especially as newlyweds.”

You choke on your drink mid-swallow, nearly spitting it out because of her words. Jackson has a notoriously dirty mind, it is no surprise to you that his wife shares that quality— she’d have to, in order to tolerate him. She laughs as Lilian takes the drink from you as you wipe your mouth, turning the comment back on her.

“I could say the same to you, Jackson is just as built.”

“Oh, trust that he kept me in bed for months after our wedding date. It is no coincidence that I have this many children now.” Her eyes shift back to the men on the field, seemingly satisfied with the rosiness of your cheeks. Recovering, you address her once more.

“Speaking of, may I meet them?”

“I’ve known (Y/n) for most of my life,” Jackson speaks up during their final round. “Though I submitted a proposal, she’s grown to be like a sister to me over the years.”

“Is that so?” Jimin grunts, their swords clashing loudly.

“I was skeptical of what kind of man she had chosen when word spread of your betrothal. Wondered if you would be able to protect her as she tends to venture out and do things on her own; sometimes-” He jumps back as Jimin closes in. “-befriending the wrong people. I worried when I heard of the catastrophe at your wedding ceremony.” The cap of Jimin’s sword touches to his opponent’s chest once again, ending the sparring match. They both remove their helmets and masks, breathing heavily as they look at each other. “I truly empathize with what you were forced to experience. I could not imagine being in that situation with my wife.” Both men turn to look at you and Lena, their 4 children surrounding you as you hold the youngest in your lap. It is a sight that simultaneously melts and breaks your husband’s heart. “Nonetheless, after meeting you, I am confident that she is in good hands. I like you a lot, Jimin, and though my approval may mean nothing, I think you are an excellent match for her.”

You look up to see them shaking hands, both of them walking over to you with content looks on their faces. The child in your lap looks up as his father approaches, making grabby hands at your friend until he reaches down and lifts him from you. You watch with starry eyes as Jackson props the child up on his hip, kissing over his chubby cheeks and forehead, but then your attention is pulled away when Jimin stops to stand in front of you.

“Did you win?” You ask, already knowing the answer.

“Yes, My Queen,” He bows dutifully, running a hand through his sweaty hair. It should be offensive how sexy he looks right now, standing in the sun with his wet hair, skin shining with hard work and eyes landing lazily on your figure with a lazy smirk. Your heart jumps and you have to look away before your mind slips even further away. “Do I get a victory kiss?” He bends down toward you, puckering his lips, and you push lightly at his chest with a laugh.

“But you’re all sweaty!” Your nose wrinkles at him but your eyes still lock onto his lips, even as you continue to swat at him.

“No kiss for your King?” Jackson quips, turning to his own wife who is already shaking her head in disgust. “Lena~ Don’t I get a reassurance kiss after my defeat?” The same look Jimin has on his face is contagious to the other King, who grins at Lena as she shields her face with another one of their giggling children, peeking out from over her shoulder. Both men approach with puckered lips, causing their Queens to squeal at their playfulness— you even hop up from the bench to avoid him, taunting him as Jimin chases you around the field. It’s rather immature, but you feel no need to pretend here or uphold appearances in front of your hosts. Lilian and Kyungsoo look on fondly, never having seen you so carefree.

“You never minded my sweat before, my love.” Jimin whispers to you when you finally allow him to give you a peck on the lips, his arms wrapped loosely around your waist. You don’t respond, rolling your eyes at him with a barely hidden smile.

“You seem to be getting along nicely with Jackson.” You comment as you rummage through your luggage, searching for one specific item. Jimin replies from behind the partition of the bathroom, bathing away the grime of the day in preparation for the night. You had both sent Lilian away when she offered to help and she took off to explore the nighttime activities of the kingdom, one of Jackson’s male servants offering to be her guide. You’ll be sure to ask her for details in the morning.

“Yes, he is quite an interesting character. He gave me his official approval to marry you, which I suppose I am grateful for.” Hearing the smile in his voice, you giggle, silencing the gasp that leaves your chest when you pull out the delicate lace garments, your heart rate speeding up. You aren’t sure why you feel so anxious about this. It’s not like you to get nervous about being intimate with Jimin, but you’ve never done anything like this before. Maybe it’s because it’s been a while since you last had him, the recent abstinence keeping your body on edge. Or maybe you are worried about what he will say when he sees you. Embarrassment colors your face as you quickly slip on the set, covering yourself with a robe when you are finished.

“He gave you his blessing to marry me?” You chuckle.

Stepping onto the tile of the partitioned washroom, you stand before the full length mirror to inspect yourself before tying it closed. The robe covers you from Jimin’s viewpoint behind you as he finishes washing up, and you try to appear productive as you move to moisturize yourself. When he is finished, your husband approaches from behind, a towel hung low on his waist as he comes to wrap his arms around your midsection. You can feel his sturdy body pressing into you as he pulls you closer, his eyes staring into yours through the glass when he rests his chin on your shoulder.

“His ego hasn’t shrunk an inch since I last saw him.” You sigh, letting your eyes flutter shut as the two of you sway gently together.

“Well, he is a King.” Jimin reasons in a whisper.

“But so are you.” His arms loosen around you when he feels you start to turn, both of your eyes open now as you peer up at him with glittering eyes, gingerly locking your fingers behind his neck. Your heart kicks up as you watch the easy grin on his lips, the absolute and unwavering adoration he holds for you so evident in his gaze. It reminds you of earlier times, his expression the exact same as when he first confessed that he was in love with you and you reciprocated, kissing him so certainly. Now, you kiss him with practiced ease and press ever closer into his warm body. Jimin’s tongue dances with yours, both of you getting lost in the moment until you are forced to pull away for air. “You were amazing today, General Park.”

The use of his former title makes his eyebrows shoot up in surprise. It isn’t like he doesn’t like the name, it is simply that he never expected to hear it come from you again.

“I did not realize that you were so agile and powerful, I was very impressed with what I saw.” One of your fingers trails down his chest, playing in the dip of his v-line before coyly tracing back upwards with each slow word you speak. “That is not to say that I was unaware of your capabilities, you have found great success in protecting me and my kingdom, but watching you was eye opening... and quite arousing.” His breath hitches in a way that gives you more confidence, courage swelling in your chest that helps you ignore the redness of your cheeks.

“Is that so?” Jimin swallows, curiosity lighting his gaze.

You hum in affirmation. “You must work extremely hard to become that skilled, so I thought it appropriate to give you a gift to show my appreciation for all that you do.” Taking a step back, you play with the ribbon of your robe, amused by the sudden change in Jimin’s expression. He watches you like a predator stalking it’s pray, detailing every movement of your nimble fingers with a heaving chest as you move at a snail’s pace to untie your robe. You decide to tease further once the ribbon is finally untied, only revealing the tops of your shoulders from the silk, holding yourself in modesty until it looks like he’s going to go insane before you open the from to reveal yourself.

Jimin feels like he could faint from what he sees when the robe drops. You are decorated in a lacy white lingerie set that is quite transparent, your nipples visible through the designs of the fabric. The bra of the set extends downwards under your cleavage and he feels his hands lifting to rest on your ribs to touch the material, following it delicately until he cups your breasts with his palms. Maybe it is due to the design of this expensive undergarment, but you fill out the bra much more than either of you would have expected, your breasts round and pushing at it in all the right spots. This is the lingerie set that Jin had hidden behind your commissioned painting as part of your wedding gift, and Jimin had completely forgotten that it was in your possession. He chooses not to question how Seokjin knows your body measurements in order to purchase the present. Eyes trailing down, Jimin takes in the equally scandalous panties that adorn your hips, all parts solid white except for the crotch that remains lacy and see-through giving him a view that makes his mouth water.

You look absolutely stunning, and he tells you in as many words as possible.

“Your gift is not yet complete, General.” The look on his face is everything that you had hoped for, and you wish to shock him even further with your next move. Hooking your fingers into the towel at his waist, you unravel it and expose his growing length, sinking down in front of him.

Quickly, he grabs your arm once he realizes what you are doing, preventing you from going lower. You pout up at him. “My Queen, a woman of your status should never kneel on the ground for any man. You must remain dignified.”

“My dignity,” You half scoff at the notion, rising to look him in his beautiful brown eyes. “I have neither dignity nor pride. You have it all, my love; I have given myself to you completely.” You allow yourself to break from your role play just this once, he needs to know that your words are true. If there is anything he should know by now, it is that you hold no reservations toward him. With him, you are equal and you trust him completely. It is not like you have never serviced him before, but he has never seen you on your knees below him due to his own beliefs and you would like to change that tonight. “I want to do this for you.”

This time when you lower yourself, he allows you to drop until your knees rest on the ground. The view he has is undeniably sinful. You can tell how much he enjoys it by how rapidly he hardens in front of your face. But when you look up from your own spot on the floor, you find that your view is equally as jaw dropping. Jimin looks down at you from over his nose, the damp hair on his head sticking to his forehead and dangling over his eyes, shadowing his features into sharp lines. Every inch of his body is chiseled to perfection, displaying the hours of training he has undergone over the years to get to the level of skill you witnessed today, and if it were not for you already kneeling on the marble, your knees would have buckled right from under you. He is like a statue carved by the gods. And he is all yours.

“If a Queen wants her soldiers to keep performing for her she must reward them, and you are the very best, so I will be sure to give you special treatment.” Lightly grasping his member, you take the time to feel how he grows in your grip. Just the feeling of you running your fingers over his plush balls has him almost fully erect, the muscles of his abdominals tensing as you lean forward to slide him into your mouth, caressing the underside of his cock with your tongue without closing your lips just yet. You’ll work him up slowly, you decide, wanting him to savor this rare occasion in hopes that he will allow you to do it again sometime. Your palm smears your saliva around his shaft and starts to steadily pump him up and down, the simple action causing a groan to tear from your lover’s throat.

Jimin does not know where to look in this moment. Should he focus on your hands as the diligently work to pleasure him? Your tongue when it peeks out from your lips to tease at his slit? The dip of your cleavage that lie in his direct line of sight, framed so perfectly by the underwear you don? Or perhaps those smoldering eyes you stare up at him with, those plotting, gorgeous eyes that call to his deepest desires? You look as if you would do anything for him at this moment— you have intentionally put yourself at his feet to show how vulnerable you are willing to be with him, that you trust him to the utmost degree and you would sink this low, literally, to demonstrate that.

“Shit,” Jimin curses, eyes trained on the way your lips wrap around his reddening tip. You sense his hands fidgeting at his sides, so you take them to place on top of your head, nodding encouragingly until he weaves his fingers into your hair. He throbs in your mouth and you fight back a smirk.

Working meticulously, you take the time to circle your tongue around every sensitive place at his cockhead, licking slowly over his frenulum and flicking over his slit as it starts to leak. The flavor is slightly salty and entirely him, and it makes your legs press together from where your knees dig into the polished marble. Your lips and tongue play at his upper half for a while, one of your hands rubbing whimsical patterns along his tensing thigh while the other tends to his aching base, pumping in time with your mouth with a slight twist to your wrist that has his fingers tightening against your scalp.

“Are you enjoying your gift?” You break away to speak, twirling your tongue around the line of saliva that connects you to his tip in the most lewd way possible.

“Yes,” Jimin pants, clearing his throat when his voice comes out raspy. But the sound makes you drip into your designer panties, the flimsy material doing little against your increasing wetness. “How did you become so skilled at this, My Queen? You are such an angel but possess devilish talent with that pretty mouth of yours.”

“I had an excellent teacher.” You wink up at him, hoping he was imaging all the times he guided you when you wished to taste him, becoming more confident as time passed and you no longer feared your gag reflex. You figure now is a good time to demonstrate just how well you absorbed those lessons, you finally sink further down on him until he touches the back of your mouth, collecting your spit to slick him before pushing him deeper and into your throat. Your stomach quivers as you hold back the urge to gag, but he sees none of that because when you look up his head is tossed back in ecstasy and concentration. He must focus so he doesn’t cum so soon.

“Just like that.” Biting into the plush of his bottom lip, Jimin falls into the trance of your movements, bobbing up and down on him with his tip lodged in your throat. The first moan he lets out has a shiver crawling up your spine, deep and loud so it echoes against every surface of the room. Drool slides out of your mouth as you continue to suck him but you pay no mind to it, only focused on the way your lover’s body reacts to you. His chest heaves for breath and you can see perspiration beginning to coat his chest and neck, Adam’s apple bobbing every time he swallows. The hand that was previously occupied with the rest of his length moves to his balls, kneading and massaging the sack gently as more moans pour from his mouth. Your clit throbs the longer you suck on him, his cock now at full length and hardness and feeling so thick and heavy on your jaw that you can’t help but fantasize about feeling it inside you again.

His hips eventually begin to twitch and rock into each of your movements, but you can tell he is restraining himself from bucking into you fully. When his eyes connect with yours again, you nod as best you can, pulling off slightly to take a few deep breaths and kiss along his silky skin. Once you have your breathing back to normal, you poise yourself with your mouth open wide and tongue poking out, the sight of you inviting him into your warmth while dressed so scantly and looking up at him with such confidence making it incredibly difficult for him to keep his composure. Here you are, his Queen, the ruler of an entire kingdom by birth right who possesses such elegance and high esteem, sitting below him and offering your throat for his pleasure. This is something that no one else in the entire world will ever see and he feels something similar to pride swelling in his chest at that fact. He knows what you are silently asking him to do, so he does not keep you waiting a second longer before inserting himself back into your mouth and easing his way in until your nose is nestled in the trimmed hair above his pubic bone.

Curses leave him in a continuous string as he takes time to adjust to the sensation, a lightness filling your head that makes you feel like you are floating through the clouds. And that feeling only increases when he starts to move, pulling his hips back for you to take in air through your nose before thrusting in again. Jimin fucks your mouth slowly at first, warming you up to it before he starts to get a bit rougher and visibly more eager, his lips sucked into his mouth as he glares down at you. In any other context, you would think him angry if he ever peered at anyone this intensely, but now you only feel the pool of arousal that builds in your core and gushes out of you at the intimidating glower. Still, his muscles are rigid with hesitance.

“May I go faster?” He breathes, never pulling out to free your mouth to respond. You moan out an answer as best you can, running your tongue against him in approval until he finally releases his tension and follows the urges of his body. He doesn’t aim deep into you, but his pace is quick, surely bruising your esophagus, yet you cannot bring yourself to be bothered. The sensation is indescribable, his hands cupping the back of your head and the sheer heat of his body almost overrides the lack of oxygen in your lungs— and simply imagining the pleasure he is feeling because of you has electricity shooting down to your core. Jimin has his eyes glued to the sight of his cock disappearing into your mouth, but they quickly shift when your hands find their way to your chest to pull down the bra just enough so your nipples poke out, both hands pushing your breasts together to give him a sight that almost causes him to lose his load right then and there. His hips lose control, stuttering and twitching as his eyes widen comically at the dream-like image of you, and he is forced to pull away after little over a minute of fucking your face. “Fuck-!”

“Is something the matter?” You ask innocently, knees screaming out from your sustained position. The veins in your husband’s hand bulge as he grips himself so tightly his knuckles turn white, his length jumping every time he opens his eyes to look at you. His use of hard profanity is enough to tell you how much you have unraveled him and you revel in the accomplishment.

“Get up here.” He pants, taking your arm in his free hand and helping you to your feet. You hear him click his tongue at the redness of your knees, but don’t have much time to dismiss it before his lips are on yours. Jimin kisses you deeply as if your face is not sloppy with saliva and his precum. He kisses you like it could save lives. And above every filthy thing you have done with him, this kiss is what makes you feel a bashful heat color your cheeks when he pulls you closer.

“Am I to assume I performed well?” You mumble against his lips, eyes crossing slightly to see his smile.

“You were outstanding. So much so that I nearly came down your pretty throat.” Smugly, Jimin unclips your bra, parting from your lips after several minutes of kissing to trace his tongue down your neck until he reaches your chest, forgoing all teasing to wrap his lips around a pert nipple.

“Oh-“ A surprised yelp leaves you and he has to use his strength to keep you from falling over, your legs suddenly feeling like jelly. Your fingers card through his drying hair, tugging at the unbothered man as he has his fun marking and sucking at you. As always, his mouth works miracles, but you have never felt anything like this before. Each swipe of his tongue around your nub has you moaning out his name, when he twists at the other nipple your head falls back in absolute bliss. He’s not doing anything extraordinarily notable, but it is like your body has reached a sensitivity that is completely new to you both. Jimin certainly is enjoying it immensely. His eyes are closed but you can see how they crinkle gleefully at the sides, his cheekbones high almost as if trying to conceal his amusement at your reactions. With puckered lips, he suctions one of your nipples before pulling back to speak.

“I can’t wait,” He grazes his teeth over your other tit before continuing. “-until these fill up with milk for our baby. I’m sure you will look incredible carrying our child inside you— even more amazing than you already look, my love. So round and plump... your cute little womb filled to the brim with my cum and baby.” Your eyes roll when one of his hands slips down your panties to tease at your lips. A growl resonates in his chest at the feel of your wetness. “You like the sound of that, don’t you? What would the people say if they found out that their elegant Queen got soaking wet just from sucking cock and thinking of getting her pussy stuffed full of cum? Hmm? Surely they will know how filthy you are once they see you swollen with my child, walking around the kingdom so shamelessly after getting marked by my seed. They’ll know just how good you’ve been for me, darling.”

“I want them to know I’m yours; I want to be pregnant with your baby so badly!” You sob, hips bucking into his hand as soon as he makes contact with your clit.

He soothes you with soft kisses along your face, ending with a lick to the corner of your mouth as you pant out loud moans for him. “I know, love. The time will come soon enough.”

Once again his lips return to your chest, and the combination of his mouth and fingers has your walls fluttering and clenching around nothing. Even after he removes his hand from your panties to hold you closer to him, you feel the building of an orgasm. Your body is completely taken by his tongue and teeth as they suckle cherry blossoms into your skin. And when his wet fingers travel up to twist at your unattended nipple, you feel your body careening off the edge unexpectedly.

“J-Jimin, I-“ Your sentence is cut short by a long whimper, mind going blank at the pleasure. You are able to feel how your walls snap open and closed, each pulse growing more intense as the high drags on for what seems like an eternity to you. Jimin groans at the sounds you make and he looks on in awe from where he still laves at your breast as you bite down on your lower lip to ground yourself. He doesn’t mind the way you tug at his roots in your bliss. The pain only adds to the throbbing of his cock.

“So sexy,” He murmurs as you regain your senses. You seem embarrassed, unable to meet his eyes, and he questions it.

“I have never-“ Averting your eyes to the ground, you look for words in your scrambled mind.

“You’ve never cum like that before?” For some reason you find it slightly humiliating and you have no idea why. Were you really that sensitive from not having sex with him for a few weeks? Your nipples were never that receptive before. Nodding in agreement, you hide your face until Jimin lifts your chin with his finger. “Do not shy away from me, My Queen. You look gorgeous when you cum.” Before you can process it, his hands are yanking down your ruined panties, drenched all the way through and dripping. Your back connects with the wall next to the mirror as you are pinned against the surface with his weight. His fingers slide over your clit and you jolt, attempting to close your legs, but he is faster and jams his thigh between yours to hold you open. “In fact, you look so good that I want to see you do it again.”

Without warning, he plunges 2 fingers knuckle deep into you, searching with little trouble for that spongey area inside you. You are wet enough to lubricate his fingers until he drips down his hand, the slick part of his palm beginning to rub harshly against your clit when his fingers curl upwards.

“Oh fuck,” You gasp brokenly when he reaches your spot. Feeling you clench, Jimin hums and goes to work massaging the area with the pads of his fingers, pressing his other hand to your lower stomach to increase the pressure. Since the first time you squirted he has been almost obsessed with the sight, working diligently to figure out how to make you do it again. There have been many nights dedicated solely to that cause— nights that you endured with bright red cheeks each time he made fun of your fucked out expression and hoarse voice— it is to the point where he now knows your every weakness and can manipulate your body with mastery. He knows exactly how much pressure you like when his fingers are deep inside you. He knows just the right way to massage that sensitive area to get you to fall apart again even if you feel overstimulated. He knows how to move his entire arm to hit that spot each time without fail, his technique flawless as he moves rapidly inside your clenching heat. Almost like a balloon filling with water, you feel another high building up in your core frighteningly fast and the lewd squelch coming from between your legs soon becomes the loudest noise in the room.

“Let go for me,” Jimin encourages into your skin, burying his face in the crook of your neck and panting hot breaths. It is easy to tell how easily he gets himself worked up when pleasuring you. His hard, wet cock twitches incessantly against your thigh, teasingly close to where you want him, and the feeling alone has you galloping closer to your second release. “You look so beautiful like this, pushed against a wall and taking my fingers. I bet you are just starving for my cock, aren’t you, My Queen? I’ll give it to you right after you cum for me. I want you to show me how badly you want it by soaking my arm with your sweet juices.”

The filthy words he feeds you only add to the hunger you feel for him. One of your legs lifts to wrap around his waist, pulling him closer as the balloon in your core continues to grow. Your heart is in your ears, beating rapidly, and you have no other choice but to listen to him and release your pleasure. With one synchronized prod of his fingers and circle around your clit, you descend into depraved ecstasy and let the balloon pop. You black out slightly, ears ringing and body numb to the world except for everywhere that your husband touches you, but you are aware of the satisfied moan he gives at your obedience. Whispers of delicate praises tickle your chest as he rests his forehead on your collarbone to watch you soil the floors and his lower half with your clear cum. The sound of it splashing and splattering against each nearby surface is quite embarrassing but you can’t bring yourself to think of it when your legs are shaking this hard and your body is tingling with joy.

“Good girl,” You hear Jimin groan, pulling his fingers from you to wrap his arms around your waist so you don’t topple over on your wobbly leg. He figures it may just be easier to keep you up if both of your legs are off the wet floor, so he moves your other leg to wind around his waist before carrying you out of the room and away from the mess to the bed.

Your glazed eyes take him in as he stands above you, a hand running through his disheveled hair as he studies you as well. His face is flushed and sweaty and his chest rises and falls quickly, but you’re sure that is only partly due to the effort he has just put in. There are claw marks on his shoulders and you gasp. You hadn’t realized you were gripping him so tightly, but he doesn’t seem to mind the marks at all, focused entirely on the throbbing member between his legs. Your eyes drop down his toned body to where his hand leisurely strokes up and down his shaft, purposely avoiding the tip to keep himself on the edge. It is almost purple with built up pressure, likely painful by this point, and you will yourself to move your weak limbs to reach out for him, pulling him closer to invite him between your open legs.

He takes his place at your center, one hand pressing into the soft mattress beside your head as he leans over you. You want him to kiss you so badly, but you want him inside you even more. He acquiescences this by sliding into you smoothly before swooping down for your lips.

“Mm~ Jimin!” The thick girth of his shaft stretches you perfectly, ignorant of your ticklish sensitivity as it searches for the deepest spot within you. In no time at all Jimin’s hips are flush with your ass, lips and tongue swallowing your moans into his own mouth.

“(Y/n)-“ He moans in response. Eyes squeezed tight, he forces himself to remain still. “I lose my breath every time I take this dripping pussy of yours. I’ll never get used to it.” Flattered, you hide your face with his by pulling him in for another kiss. The two of you stay like this for a long while, adjusting to each other’s bodies and basking in the intimacy of the moment.

“My love, please move.” You whine when the stillness becomes unbearable, yet you grieve at the loss of his heat when he leans away to pull you closer to the edge of the bed.

The first thrust of his hips already has you squirming. Your slick makes it so easy for him to pump into you that he barely has to put in any effort at all, his hips snapping sharply into you from the beginning. You let your legs fall farther apart at his sides and bite your lip when Jimin’s eyes land between your thighs, staring intently at the place where your bodies connect. You’re sure he can see everything, from the way your lips spread open around his wide member, to the shiny streaks of your arousal that quickly slick the inside of your thighs. It’s like you can feel his gaze caressing you, your body feeling sensitive everywhere he studies. You moan unabashedly at the sensation.

“Do you like it, My Queen? Does this feel good?” He prompts, eager for your praise.

“Y-yes, I-“ It has been so long without his cock inside you that you can’t think clearly. All you can do is shout his name and cling to the bedsheets as he wraps his arms around your thighs and holds them flush against his front. The angle makes you stutter, his tip touching somewhere sensitive that has your thighs squeezing closed. “P-please, harder. Use me.”

“Keep these fucking legs open.” Jimin growls, thrusting more harshly now. You attempt to follow his command and unclench your thighs, but they shake violently as soon as they part and it takes immense focus for you to hold them there. Looking up at your lover, you see the dark look that overtakes his features, dominance radiating off of him as he gets lost in you. You haven’t seen this look on him in a long while, but you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t sexy. He looks like he wants to eat you alive, devour you whole and leave not a morsel of you left until he’s had his fill.

Watching Jimin gain so much pleasure from you takes you to another level of bliss. His fingers dig into your thighs as he pounds his cock within your depths, determined to pull more desperate sounds from your throat, and his teeth bite down on his plush bottom lip in concentration. Sweat now trickles down his brow from the humid heat of the room, undoing the bath he took prior and replacing the soap with the scent of sex that leaks from his pores. This man is undeniably the hottest person you have ever laid eyes on and you can’t help but clench around him at the visuals he’s giving you.

Feeling you clench, Jimin moans, dragging his eyes up your figure until they land on your breasts. They jolt with every harsh thrust he gives you and dance flirtatiously in front of him— he can’t look away. Suddenly, he leans down and snatches up your hands, pinning them above your head with his fingers intertwined with yours, nearly drooling at how delectable you look under him. Your breasts certainly look different, the shape has become rounder and they jiggle slightly more than he can remember, but Jimin doesn’t think much of this as he focuses on delivering hard strokes. You shiver when his tongue licks a stripe up your damp neck, sucking a spot just below your ear before nibbling the lobe. He knows this is a weak spot for you, and just as he expected, your walls tighten around him once more. You push against him, trying to free your hands, but he has them locked sturdily in his grasp, silently forcing you to submit to him. You probably want to wind your fingers in his hair or grip onto his biceps, but he won’t give up an ounce of power at the moment. Not while he is ravaging you like this. So you settle for squeezing his hands and soaking in their warmth, gasping breathlessly as he takes you. You are entirely at his mercy and you absolutely love it.

One of his hands moves down to grip your thigh and push it open, unlocking you from where you have been clenched around his hips. Both of your wrists now held in one hand and still pinned against the sheets. The bed frame creaks noisily as he changes pace, abandoning his hard and fast thrusts for a slow and deep grind that has your eyes rolling to the back of your head. Something feels different about you, about the way you feel around him as the head of his cock licks at your cervix. It’s softer than usual and open for him, almost begging for his sperm, and he thinks this is the perfect time to get you pregnant. He aims to stay deep inside you. Each powerful movement is purposeful, everything down to the slight arch of his back that allows his pubic bone to grind into your clit, and you feel like you’re going crazy.

“Oh fuck, Jimin! I’m close again!” Your voice is strained in your throat and he smirks at the sound. He can feel it, the swell of your walls around him as you near your third high, and he swears it’s tighter than usual. Your muscles begin to tense up and push against him, preparing for your inevitable release. And just because you feel like pushing his buttons today, you allow your thighs to attempt to squeeze closed again.

“What did I say?!” The depth of his voice shocks you briefly and your eyes snap open to look at him. His jaw is tight as his stare bores into you with deadly intensity. “Keep your fucking legs open. Or do I have to hold them for you?” You let out a whimper, not daring to move your hands from their raised position when he drops your wrists to push open your other thigh, leaving you dripping and exposed in front of him. Your skin dimples where his fingertips dig into you— though he is careful not to bruise you— and he seems to hit even deeper like this. “You used to be so well behaved, My Queen. Are you acting out just to get a rise out of me?”

You dodge the question. “Please, Jimin, please make me cum again.” You can hardly hear anything aside from the slap of his balls against your ass and the squelch of his cock pushing through your warm walls.

“You think you deserve to cum? What will you do for it?” A dark chuckle leaves his throat when he sees you genuinely thinking of a response, biting so hard on your lip that he fears it might bleed.

“Anything.” You breathe. You’re unsure of how long you can hold back your orgasm, he feels so good fucking you like this, pushing his whole length into you without mercy.

“Anything, darling?” A lecherous grin plasters itself onto his mouth at your expression. “Hm, are you just saying that because you’re desperate? I can tell it feels good, you’re leaking all over me. Do you like it when I go deep like this?” You nod with a whine, eyelids pressed closed to hold back from cumming. “Open your eyes. Look at how deep I am inside you.” Peeling your eyes open, you peer down at yourself upon his command and see where his own eyes are glued. A small bulge presses against your lower abdomen every time he pushes in, disappearing when he pulls out only to reappear with the next thrust. Neither of you can take your eyes off of the sight, absolutely mesmerized by it.

“Please, I’m so close!” You groan loudly.

“You say you’ll do anything, my love?”

“Yes!”

“Will you be a good girl and let me put my baby in you? Let me cum right here against this fertile womb and get you pregnant with my baby?” The effect of his dirty talk is immediate and you clamp down on him, barely holding back as his hand rests over the bulge in your tummy, adding the tiniest amount of pressure to it.

“I will! Please!” Tears wet your doe eyes as you look up at him, digging your nails into the soft sheets above your head to keep from moving your arms from their position. He notes this with a hum, speeding up his hips in reward for your obedience.

“I know you will. Now cum.” On command, your body lets go of all the pent up pressure in your core, gripping onto his length with unbearable strength. Your walls pulsate with so much force that you nearly push him out, and when he finally pulls out of you, you squirt once again over the ledge of the bed. His hands on your legs do nothing to quell the wild tremors that overtake you and the streams of tears that flow over the apples of your cheeks. You are truly a sight to see, flushed red and glowing with the aftermath of yet another ferocious orgasm. Your sensitivity once again shocks him into silence. He didn’t even need to touch your clit for you to climax.

His stiff member bobs like a flagpole in the wind as he takes you in. It’s so hard that it stands straight up against his abdomen, jumping with its own pulse. When you open your eyes it is the first thing you see, and your body heats up again.

“Can you take any more, my love?” Jimin questions with concern, tracing his hands up your waist soothingly.

“Always. I can always take more of you.” Despite the screaming in your limbs, you sit up abruptly and pull him down to the bed, rolling the two of you over as you lock lips. Jimin seems surprised but not opposed to the shift in power dynamics, sensing that you want to take the reins for now. Your fingers wrap around his base and line him up with your slit, showing not even a moment’s hesitation before dropping down and knocking the wind out of both of you.

“You do not have to-“

“No, Jimin, I want to. I am supposed to be treating you after all, let me make you feel good.”

Fuck, you’re hot. Not only do you look amazing on top of him, but your pussy feels much hotter than usual. And it’s so tight, as if it’s greedy for every inch of him and eager to suck out his release. He won’t last long like this, that is for certain. His hands support you as you shift into a squat above him— and maybe it’s the novelty of the position, but he swears it’s never felt this good before.

“I imagined this so many times, but I never thought I’d actually get to see you riding me like this.” He confesses in a strained breath. You press your palms into his chest to lift yourself up, lowering yourself experimentally before repeating the action with less restraint.

“Am I living up to your expectations?” It could just be the angle, but his cock feels unbelievably deep inside you, and you half expect it to hurt yet you feel no pain. There is not even the slightest bit of discomfort as he nudges at your womb and you attribute this to the three incredible orgasms you have already reached tonight.

“God, yes.” He can’t look away from where you impale yourself on him, your shaky legs spread wide to let him see every second of the erotic display. From the way you grip him every time you lift up, to the strings of your arousal and cum that weave a sticky web between your ass and his pelvis, and even to the way your clit swallows in delight, he almost goes lightheaded as he takes it all in. His throat bobs as he gulps, back arching off the sheets under your warm hands.

“Faster?”

You don’t wait for a response before you start speeding up. He’s close, you can feel it in the way he swells against your walls and see it in the way his neck and chest color that pretty pink color you adore so much. Your limbs are aching for relief and it takes all of your remaining energy to keep up your efforts, but you wouldn’t dream of stopping. No, you are determined to bring Jimin to his end no matter what. The high pitched moans he lets out for your ears only are more than enough motivation to keep going, but you are working for a prize much more valuable that the lovely sounds he makes for you. You want his cum. You want it so badly that it is the only thing you can think of, so despite the pain in your fragile legs as you bounce yourself as hard and fast as you can, you continue for him. You’ve never been afraid to put in a little effort, and this is something you are willing to work for.

“(Y/n), I’m gonna cum!” Jimin’s dialect shines through strongly as he grits his teeth through the pleasure you bombard him with. You know it must feel different for him, the pleasure is always so much more intense when you aren’t the one doing all the work, and this is the first time you’ve pinned him down like this. It’s the first time you’ve dropped yourself down to clamp your knees on either side of him and wrap yourself around his upper body as you pant into his neck, leaving sloppy kisses and coaxing him toward his high with whispered words. Now that the roles are reversed, you can see just how wrecked he is for you— the usually composed king now lies spread in a heap of matted hair, sweaty skin, and bitten lips, completely speechless and grasping onto your thighs in a desperate bid to hold onto his sanity. “Please, I- I-“

“Cum for me, My King,” You are sure your body has just about reached its limit, but you feel no pain or fatigue when you look into your lover’s eyes and find an unraveled man. “I promised I would take your cum and let you get me pregnant. Give it all to me, my love, I want it. Cum inside me, Jimin.”

Bucking his hips, Jimin loses all control and throws his head back in anticipation as he aids your movements with his strong arms. When he feels your lips on his chin, he leans forward and allows you to swallow his groans of pleasure, both of you starved for breath but unwilling to pull away from the kiss. Everything you have done for him tonight— wearing sexy lingerie, getting on your knees to please him, squirting not once but twice— culminates into this one moment and he doesn’t think he can take take it. It’s all too much. With three sharp thrusts from both of you, he climaxes with a shout, lifting you up along with him as his hips rise off the bed.

“Oh fuck!” Maybe you shouldn’t feel this way, but you giggle giddily at the state of rapture he’s in because of you. The veins in his neck pop out of his skin as he dumps spurt after spurt of his semen into you, and you think this is the biggest load he’s ever given you. It takes a long time for him to come down from his high and for a moment you wonder if he will be okay with the way he twitches and shivers as your hips roll to a stop.

He doesn’t seem to mind your weight resting on top of him, nor does he react to the light kisses you press to his drenched skin. He does, however, wrap his arms securely around you when you shift to roll off of him, holding you on top of his body until you both have caught your breath and can open your heavy eyelids enough to look at each other with tired smiles.

“I love you.” You grin, running your digits through his disheveled mop of hair.

“I love you more, My Queen.” He pulls you down for another kiss to silence whatever rebuttal you surely have prepared at the tip of your tongue because he knows what you will say. And the thought makes his heart swell.

It seems like hours pass before both of you can work up the strength to part from each other. You have to be carried to the bathroom because your limbs feel far too weak and Jimin is not yet willing to let you go from his embrace. He is mindful of the puddle that you left on the floor as he carries you to the bath, and both of you sink into the depths together to wash away all your sins. You stay like that until your toes are pruned and the water is slightly cooler than lukewarm, the time flying by as you talk freely about everything you can think of: your hopes for your future family, your day with Jackson and Lena, gossip about Lilian and her whereabouts— she has not yet returned to the lodge even at this late hour and you hope that she is safe, but more importantly, you hope that her night with that handsome male servant ends similarly to yours. She could afford to take tonight and tomorrow off to unwind a bit, you feel a tad guilty that her needs may be neglected in the kingdom as she tends to you nonstop in the castle. Sleep finds you both easily and you cannot drop the smile from your cheeks as you cuddle up with the man you love.

This afternoon would have been perfect if not for the way you were feeling. Sparse clouds float through the sunny blue sky, the mountains surrounding you blossoming with vibrancy, but the beautiful scenery is dulled in your bleary eyesight. The lightheadedness you’d felt upon arrival two days ago has returned, along with a pounding headache that dampens your mood.

Jimin and Jackson walk ahead of their queens, talking casually as though they had been friends for years. The sight makes your heart grow warm and you use it to distract you from your discomfort as you walk along the outside pathways to a different section of the enormous castle. Lena notices the shift in your demeanor fairly quickly, commenting that you look less energized than yesterday.

“Did you not sleep well last night?” She implores, her brow creased with worry.

“I had a very restful sleep last night, but it feels like my body is dragging behind.” You try to keep yourself from rubbing at your face. Royals are not supposed to show weakness and vulnerability in public, and even though you are only surrounded by Kyungsoo and a few of Lena’s servants, you wish to uphold your appearances. “I do not feel sick, however, so I do not think it is caused by illness.”

“Would there be any other reason for you to feel fatigued? We did spend quite a considerable amount of time in the heat yesterday.”

“Well,” The guards and servants lag behind you far enough for them not to hear your conversation, but you still lower your voice in modesty. “Jimin and I were intimate late into the evening...” You figure your late night activities are also the reason for the tenderness you feel in your breasts, your tight undergarments causing slight pain as they bind your chest.

“Ah, I see!” She beams back at you, giggling. “You were not used to such strenuous exercise. I have experience with that— one time Jackson kept me in bed for so long that I nearly fainted from dehydration! Jimin seems like he would have a lot of stamina, be careful with that one.” The wiggle of her eyebrows lifts your spirits a bit. Speaking of such lewd subjects is seen as unladylike, especially for royalty, but you find yourself uncaring of that when you are with Lena. You have never had a woman of your same age and status to converse with before, no one could ever relate or felt comfortable enough to speak freely with you. This closeness you have with her is a novel feeling— and it is likely that Jimin feels the same with Jackson.

“I’ll be sure to be mindful of that.” You smile, staring at the back of his head. Your husband turns to look at you when he feels your eyes as he passively listens to the other King recall a story, sending a wink your way before returning his attention to the man beside him.

“Is there any other possible explanation for your symptoms?” Redirecting your gaze to Lena, you catch how her eyes flicker down to your stomach, a small smile on her lips. As soon as you realize her meaning, you stiffen, legs nearly bringing you to a halt.

“No,” Your eyes fall to the ground. “I... do not think it is pregnancy. Before I departed from home I was examined by my doctor and she-“ You sigh. “I am not pregnant.”

“Hmm. Well, I have been pregnant 4 times and have experienced many symptoms with each of my children. What you described to me sounds familiar. Do not dismiss the idea just yet, (Y/n).”

Before you can even open your mouth to form a reply, you are hit with a wave of dizziness that makes the world spin. Kyungsoo is by your side in an instant, stabilizing you as someone asks if you are alright. You are led to a nearby bench where all of the servants crowd around you, Jimin rushing over when he hears the commotion.

“(Y/n)?! What’s the matter?” The world spins a little less when your eyes are closed, so you do not look up at him, but you can imagine the almost sickly worry covering his lovely face. You know he has been especially traumatized by the events of your wedding and you never want to put him in a situation like that again, but you can’t help the way your body feels. Distantly, you hear Jackson order a servant to get the doctor, footsteps skittering away as he comes to squat down in front of you.

“Are you ill?” Jackson’s voice calms the anxiety you weren’t aware you were feeling. It is frightening not knowing what’s going on with your own body. Lena’s words ring in your mind.

“N-no, it is just the altitude. I just need to rest for a minute.” Your excuse is almost convincing, but no one moves— except for Jimin, who moves closer to you on the bench to support your back. After a few minutes, your head begins to clear, though your vision remains blurry. Eyes silently peer at you from all sides and you can feel them hot on your skin, embarrassment now the prominent emotion you feel. “Please do not worry about me, I am fine, really.”

“Are you certain? We can rest here for a little while longer.” Jimin suggests gently, but for some reason this irritates you.

“I said I’m fine.” You snap, earning an even more concerned look from him. Just then, the doctor approaches, slightly out of breath and sweating. “I don’t need a doctor! I’m feeling better already. Look.” You no longer feel dizzy anymore so you attempt to stand, rising quickly from the seat to come face to face with Jackson as he rises as well. Jimin still has his arm around you, both men watching you closely. “See?” But as soon as you’re stable on your feet, the spinning returns as if on cue and you come toppling forward into Jackson’s arms, everything going black.

“You don’t need to do this, Jackson, I told you I feel okay now.” You grumble as he carries you to the infirmary inside the castle. He took you into his arms without hesitation when you fell, offering to carry you because Jimin was rapidly descending into distress. While you were only out for about 2 minutes before you regained consciousness, everyone had reacted as if you were dying.

Looking at your husband now, you can see how unnerved he has become. Because he is a General who has seen many battles, he has trained himself not to react emotionally in stressful situations— but you can read the look in his eyes as clear as day as he walks alongside you, watching you more closely than what is in front of him.

“That is what you said earlier, and then you fainted immediately afterwards. Do not worry, I don’t mind carrying you. I needed a little exercise today anyway.” Always a jokester, you crack a smile at his comment, rolling your eyes as the doctor leads him into a room to rest you on the bed. The doctor works quickly, taking a blood sample from you and leaving for the lab, having already taken your vitals when you initially passed out. “We’ll be waiting outside.” With that, Jackson takes Lena’s shaky hand and exits the room, leaving you in bed and Jimin hovering over you awkwardly.

“Please sit down, you are making me nervous.” You breathe. He blinks and nods absently, perching himself on the edge of the bed next to you. “Are you okay?”

“I should be asking you that.” He laughs dryly. Jimin bites his lip when you give him a sympathetic gaze and take his hand. Your words from the argument you had nearly a month ago echo in his head. This is a chance for him to open up to you about his emotions and seek your comfort, your expression shows that you are expecting it of him, so he takes a deep breath. There’s no use hiding his emotions from you. “Truth be told, I am a wreck. You fainting brought back some rather unpleasant memories.” He confesses.

“I’m sorry.” You really are apologetic, stressing him out is the last thing you ever wanted to do.

“It is not your fault. I just worry about you so much. I cannot bear to lose you, my love, and I feel so helpless when things like this happen, it feels like I always have to wait for others to come to rescue you.”

“Would you like to become a doctor so you are more prepared, then?” He wasn’t expecting that response and snaps his head up to look at you when you laugh. “You cannot control everything that happens to me, Jimin. It is okay to let others help. All I need is for you to stay by my side, your presence is more than enough.” He nods at this, accepting the kiss you plant on his cheek and squeezing your hands.

Long seconds of silence pass as you wait for the doctor to return. Then, a sudden thought pops into your mind that makes you groan aloud.

“Lilian is going to be pissed at me.” You can’t help but chuckle at the circumstances.

“Why is that?”

“I told her to take off today and enjoy her time here, but she was worried about me so she initially refused. I assured her of my health this morning before we left. I can only imagine to look on her face once she finds out what happened.” You do feel a bit bad, Lilian knows you better than anyone and it is clear that she could tell something was off, but you convinced her that her instincts were wrong and now you find yourself in the infirmary. She will surely put herself down over this incident because of her absence when you most needed her.

“You can worry about her after we confirm that you are okay. For now, let us focus on this.” Just then, the doctor enters the room again, coming to stand at the bottom of the bed as you and Jimin look up at them with expectant eyes. Your heart pounds in your chest. You’ve become so used to hearing bad news from doctors, you are almost conditioned to be nervous and guarded around them.

“(Y/n), I have determined the cause of your sudden collapse.” Jimin squeezes your hand tighter and you can feel the sweat on his fingertips. “It appears that you are pregnant! Congratulations! The blood tests showed high levels of-“

“Pardon?” You interject with a raspy voice. Your brain is having a hard time processing the words and you blink slowly for a few seconds, unaware of Jimin’s shell shocked expression. “I- H-how can this be? My physician tested me right before I left and she said I was not pregnant.”

“Well, it is entirely possible to get false negative results, especially when it is early in the pregnancy. I don’t think it reflects poorly on your physician, these things just happen sometimes and are completely out of our control. But looking at my test results and the symptoms you have been experiencing, I am certain that you are about 6 weeks pregnant.”

“B-but I bled last month.”

“For how many days?”

“One or two...”

“Then that was likely implantation bleeding, which is to be expected. Dizziness and even fainting are also fairly common symptoms, so there is no particular need to worry about today’s incident— though I recommend that you make sure to get adequate rest and nutrition to avoid complications in the future. Once again, congratulations.”

Finally, you drag your gaze over to your husband who has been silent since the doctor appeared, and his eyes are filled to the brim with tears when they connect with yours.

“You- (Y/n), you’re finally pregnant!” He whispers, and the way his voice cracks causes the dam to break within yourself and all of your emotions come flooding out. Before you know it you’re wrapped in his embrace, both of you simultaneously sobbing and laughing into each other’s necks from pure joy and surprise as the doctor excuses themselves from the room. It is like all of the building frustration from the past several months has been crushing you slowly and now that weight has been lifted, allowing you to breathe freely for the first time. Jimin feels similarly. He has been holding back so many of his emotions since you first started trying to get pregnant and that has taken a tremendous toll on his mind and body, but for the first time, he can finally release those emotions and let himself feel the heaviness of it all. He is crying harder than you are, soaking the top of your dress as you cradle his head to you and hold him there. His hands ghost over your waist and lower abdomen so delicately, as if protecting the growing life inside of you.

When you’ve both gotten yourselves together enough to allow Jackson and Lena to visit, they rush in without hesitation.

“Is everything okay?” Lena is by your side first, immediately noticing your red and puffy eyes. You’re a little bit hesitant to tell her because you know she’ll gloat about her “sixth sense”.

“Yes, I’m alright. We just found out that I am pregnant.” The room erupts into noise, the two of them sounding like an entire circus as Jackson nearly jumps on Jimin in a bear hug and Lena squeals excitedly beside you.

“I knew it! You dismissed me so offhandedly and it turns out that I was right! I have a sixth sense for these things, you know; you should trust me more often.” Just as expected.

“And here you were, just telling me how worried you were about not yet yielding an heir to the throne,” Jackson throws a heavy arm over Jimin’s shoulder. “I suppose we should celebrate before you depart in the morning. I will throw a lovely ball tonight in your honor!”

“Oh, I must oversee the preparations then! Get some rest, (Y/n), and congratulations again!” And just like that, the couple is gone, rushing back out of the room and leaving you and your husband giggling.

“I am sorry, Lilian.” You apologize for what feels like the thousandth time. She continues to pout as she helps load your belongings into the carriage, barely sparing you a glance.

“I knew I should have stayed; I had a feeling something would happen.” She turns to scowl, not necessarily at you but it is in your direction. “I cannot believe I missed such a huge announcement as well! Both Jackson and Lena found out before me, this is so unfair.”

“You sound like a child,” You snicker, taking Kyungsoo’s hand as he helps you into the carriage behind Jimin.

“Yes, well I think I am allowed to throw a tantrum just this once.” You catch Kyungsoo crack a grin at her, the first time you’ve seen any emotion from him, and it brings a smile to your own face.

“If it makes you feel any better, Kyungsoo found out after Jackson and Lena, too.” Jimin comments, taking your hand and pulling you into his side.

“It does not make me feel better because he still found out before me!”

The sun is still low in the sky but slowly rises as you depart from the kingdom. Once you return to the castle, there are many duties that you must take care of, and many traditional processes you will have to go through now that you are pregnant— you are carrying a possible future heir to the throne after all. But you have never been happier. For now it still feels surreal, even though you have waited nearly a year for this moment, but as soon as the people of your kingdom come to greet you and celebrate the news of your conception, the reality of the situation will hit and you are sure you will be overwhelmed with new challenges. Pregnancy is not an easy thing, but at least you will have Jimin with you to help you through it all, just as he has always done. You rest your head on his shoulder with a mischievous grin.

“So Lilian, how was your date the other night? You seemed rather cozy with that young man at the ball yesterday evening.”

“It was not a date!”

#tyfys #jimin smut #ksmutclub #btscreatorscorner #clubjimin #ficswithluv #Jimin angst #jimin fluff #bts royal au #purplearmynet

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fanmoose12 · 3 years

Text

catch me if you can

Сharacters: Hange Zoe, Levi, Erwin Smith, Kenny Ackerman

Genres: Mystery / Romance

Summary: The Ackerman duo. Just the mention of this name filled Hange with so many feelings. Mostly, when she reread the files of their cases over and over, until her eyes watered, she felt pricking annoyance. Sometimes, when she stared at the dead bodies of those scarce unfortunates who stumbled upon their crimes, she was filled with hatred and a pushing need for revenge. Hange couldn’t deny, however, there were times when she marveled at the impudence of their crimes. And, when she was investigating the Ackerman’s cases and saw just how meticulously planned they all were, she couldn’t help but feel something close to fascination.No one knew who they were. No one had seen their faces, no one knew their true names. Almost everyone knew of their crimes.Hange was determined to unravel every last one of their secrets. She will put an end to their crimes and then she will get the elusive Ackermans behind bars.

Chapter 9/?

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

“We aren’t looking for Krista Lenz. We’re searching for Historia.”

Despite the evidence quite literally staring right back at her, Hange could scarcely believe what she herself had just said. Krista Lenz, the missing girl she was searching for, wasn’t actually Krista Lenz? Apparently, the girl’s name was Historia, at least, according to the birth certificate. But it didn’t make any sense, and, what’s worse, it raised so many additional questions…

The main question, of course, was the reason for why the girl was living under a false name, and how did Kenny Ackerman acquire this piece of information? And for what purpose?

Luckily, she had the person, who, hopefully, could shed some light on this new mystery. Hange shoved the photo and the document in Ackerman’s hands, staring at him expectantly. “Do you know something about this?”

He didn’t answer right away, and that gave Hange a semblance of hope. Perhaps, it was just a misunderstanding? Perhaps, the photo and the birth certificate were put into one envelope by a trick of fate? And Krista Lenz was truly Krista Lenz? Hange certainly hoped so. It would save her so much trouble.

Ackerman’s eyes were narrowed as he studied the document. Hange watched him with bated breath.

Her world crumbled when he gave a little nod.

“I think I know where Kenny got it. Remember the robbery of that politician’s manor? Kenny stole this thing from the guy’s safe.”

Hange remembered that robbery, remembered that murdered man. But how could it possibly be connected to her recent case?

“How did you know where to find it? And why did your uncle need it in the first place? It makes no sense…”

“On the contrary,” Ackerman shook his head. “Now everything makes perfect sense. I couldn’t understand why Reiss asked us to rob that guy’s house, but now I’m starting to think that your missing girl…”

“Wait! Wait!” Hange silenced him with her palm on his mouth. She whirled around, starting to pace around the room. What he was saying just now? He didn’t mean it, right? At least, not in the way Hange comprehended it. It couldn’t be, she refused to believe it. But what if Ackerman was telling the truth? What if— Hange turned back to him, her eyes pleading for him to say it was an ill-timed joke. “What was that about Reiss? Did you mean Rod Reiss, the member of the parliament? That Reiss?”

“Naturally.”

Hange slowly sank into an armchair. Her head was spinning, her thoughts were going in circles. Rod Reiss, the model politician, the law abiding citizen was working directly with Ackermans. It seemed completely outlandish.

“Are you serious?” she asked quietly, to keep herself from shrieking. “Are you actually fucking serious?”

Ackerman shrugged, looking so nonchalant, a stark contrast to her frantic appearance. “Why would I lie about this?”

Why indeed… Logically, Hange knew there was no reason for him to lie about Reiss’ involvement, but, damn it, she just couldn’t wrap her head about this. Even the notion seemed utterly ridiculous, like it was taken from a dumb conspiracy theory.

“Just before I dropped your case…” Hange began, desperately trying to find a way to contradict Ackerman’s claim. “He wanted to help me solve it. He offered me money and people, anything to get you behind bars.”

And that meant that he wasn’t working with them, right? It meant that Reiss was actually a good guy, who wanted to fight the bad ones.

He’s a politician, a voice that sounded suspiciously like Erwin reminded her. You can’t get so high just from being good.

Despite her endless stubbornness, Hange couldn’t disagree with that. Those who held a lot of power didn’t acquire it from being honest and honorable.

Reiss claimed he wanted to catch Ackermans, but that desire could just be his attempt to cover up his traces.

Fuck.

Ackerman was right. Everything was starting to make sense.

“I guess Reiss wanted to get rid of us,” Ackerman confirmed her guess. Hange’s heart sank. “Maybe, that’s why Kenny didn’t return him this,” he showed her the birth certificate.

Hange felt another wave of nausea. If she correctly understood what Ackerman was implying…

“Are you saying that the missing girl…” she swallowed, reluctant to end that sentence. It would become more real then.

“Yes,” Ackerman nodded, his voice a little softer. Was it his attempt at giving her a bit of comfort? Did he simply pity her? “I think that your Krista Lenz is actually Historia. And that her father is Rod Reiss.”

Even before he spoke, Hange knew that Ackerman had reached that conclusion. Reluctantly, she was almost ready to agree with him. But… her inner world was practically in shambles. Rod Reiss, the good-willed, kind looking man with a gentle smile, was working with the criminals. He had a secret daughter.

She really couldn’t trust anyone, huh? She should have learnt this simple truth by now. Levi Ackerman did a great job of teaching that lesson to her, after all.

Hange dropped head into her hands, letting out a deep, bone-weary sigh. Couldn’t she have at least one simple, easy case? One that wouldn’t make her revalue all of her relationships and lose her faith in the humanity?

A case like that would have been real nice.

But instead she had a case that grew more complicated with each clue and a girl who was waiting to be rescued.

If nothing else, Hange couldn’t let Krista Lenz down. Or Historia, whichever name was the correct one.

“Hey listen…” a tentative touch to her shoulder and a gentle voice in her ear made Hange jump. She looked up and saw Ackerman, standing right next to her. He was… gods, he looked worried. Hange didn’t know if she should be amused or slighted. Just how pathetic she seemed just now, if Ackerman decided to comfort her? “I know it’s a lot to take in…”

Hange brushed his hand aside, abruptly jumping to her feet. Ackerman could take his pity and fuck himself with it. It was a lot to take in, but she was fine. She had taken it all in, she dealt with that mind-blowing revelation. Well, she didn’t really deal with it, but she took a pause in dealing with it. She’d finish the processing after this fucking day was over and she’d get drunk at some shitty bar. But now, she had work that needed her attention. And Hange was ready to begin.

“Give me that,” she snatched the birth certificate out of Ackerman’s hand, studying it intently. The graph with the father’s name wasn’t filled, but the mother’s name was there. Alma. There was no last name, but still, it was a start. Certainly not very promising, but Hange did more with less.

Alas, there was nothing interesting about the document except the name of the child’s mother. The child was born here, in their city, twenty two years ago. Krista Lenz was exactly twenty-two years old. A small detail that simply couldn’t be overlooked.

Next, Hange turned her attention to the photo. The picture showed adult Krista, and it was shot from distance, only her profile visible. Could it mean that someone was spying on her? If Krista was Historia, and a daughter of Rod Reiss, it made sense that he was keeping tabs on her. However…

Hange’s eyes widened, the realization swiftly settling.

The photo and the document, it didn’t come from Reiss. Reiss asked Ackermans to steal it for him, meaning…

“Do you think Reiss has enemies?” she asked Ackerman. “Do you think that someone wanted to expose him?”

“Perhaps,” Ackerman tentatively replied. His eyebrows furrowed, as he continued, rubbing his chin. “The guy that we killed… he wasn’t supposed to be at home that night. Reiss said he wasn’t going to be at home.”

“But he was.” Hange uttered, confused.

“He was,” Ackerman agreed. “And I think Reiss knew about it.”

“You think he tried to set you up?”

“Possibly. Or it was a pure coincidence and the guy just decided to return from the party earlier. Or…” he spread his arms, his point more than clear.

Closing eyes, Hange rubbed her temples. Possibly, Ackerman said. Well, she was definitely getting into something she shouldn’t. Secret children, Ackermans, nasty politicians… It was well above her paygrade.

But she couldn’t just give up. And, fortunately, she knew a place where they could find more information. If the person spying on Krista wasn’t Reiss, then it was someone who was actively trying to expose him. Someone who had died before he could reach his goal.

Hange still remembered that brief conversation she had with the politician’s widow, remembered her mentioning something about a girl that worked for her late husband. Perhaps, that girl was the one who took that photo of Krista. And if she found Krista once, perhaps, she’d help them to find her again.

The plan of action was prepared, and that was enough to calm Hange’s mind. At least, for a short while.

“We’re going to visit the politician’s house,” she announced to Ackerman. “His widow might know something.”

“You want to go to the house of the guy we robbed and killed? Awesome.”

Hange hummed, letting her eyes linger on Ackerman’s bored face. There was a question that’s been bugging her for a long time now, ever since she learnt about his true identity. They weren’t in a hurry yet, so she decided to take another moment to satisfy her curiosity. “That guy… were you the one who killed him?”

Ackerman stared back at her, his eyes surprisingly honest. “Would it make you feel better if I tell you that my uncle did it?”

Would it make her feel better to know that he was just a thief, and not a murderer? Maybe. Or, maybe not. Hange wasn’t sure what feeling this knowledge would provoke. These days, she wasn’t sure what to feel at all. The only feeling she was certain of was the exhaustion.

“Back at the museum…” perhaps, bringing this up was unreasonable. Perhaps, completely unnecessary. But she had been thinking about it, a lot. She had already formulated an explanation. Now she wanted to hear Ackerman’s reasoning, and see if the two versions were compatible in any way. “I know you weren’t the one who shot me, your uncle is much taller. When he raised that gun, he was aiming at my head, I could see it clearly,” she laughed, the sound too broken to be genuine. “I thought I was already done for, so why…”

“Why what, four-eyes?” Ackerman snapped. “Why did I stop him? Do you actually not know?”

Ackerman was staring right at her, his impassive mask slipping to reveal his anger and… frustration? Hange couldn’t clearly interpret the look in his eyes, not when she was so confused herself. She swallowed heavily, her heart pounding as she struggled to look away. Ackerman’s gaze… was burning.

“I wouldn’t have let Kenny kill you. I couldn’t bear the thought,” he said, his voice raw. He took a step towards her, and, subconsciously, Hange took a step away from him, her back now pressed against the wall. Despite their height difference, Levi seemed to loom over her, his eyes brimming with feeling. The feeling of… what? Hange didn’t know if she wished to know the answer. “Do you actually not understand why I did it?”

Ackerman was wrong. She did understand. She had him figured out, all thanks to dark, long and sleepless nights.

“You still needed me, right? That was your reason? I was still useful to you, that’s why—”

“Useful?”

Hange flinched at his tone. There was no protest there, no anger. His voice was thick with pain. Her eyes widened at the realization.

“What did I use you for, Hange?” he grabbed the lapels of her coat, roughly pulling her close to him. His breath was hot on her skin, and his fists were clenched so tightly she could almost hear the sound of the coat’s fabric ripping. “What did I ever use you for? Did I steal something from you? Did I get some piece of information out of you? You gave me the keys to your damn office, I held your shitty notebook in my hands, and did I use it?”

In the face of his outrage, Hange felt numb. She didn’t try to push him away, felt too weak to escape from him. She could only stare helplessly at him, feeling small and insignificant. Feeling like she had missed something vital, a central piece of the puzzle.

“I don’t know,” she murmured. “I didn’t check, perhaps you did take something—”

He breathed a curse into her face, his eyes a liquid fire. Just as suddenly as he had grabbed her, Levi let her go.

His back was now facing her, as he stared out of the window, his breathing loud and irregular.

“You can think whatever you want about me,” he said, deadly quiet. “You can think that I am a liar, a thief and a scumbag. But I didn’t use you Hange. It was never my intention. And if you really don’t know why I didn’t let you die, then you’re a shitty fucking detective. No wonder you couldn’t catch us.”

He stormed out of the room a second after, leaving Hange to stare incredulously after him.

His words, his touch, his eyes, it weighted down on her. They made it hard to breathe.

The places where Levi had touched her were burning, his words were still ringing in her ears and she couldn’t quite shake off the image of his eyes, his stare furious, but simultaneously hurt.

She was hoping to gain some clearance, hoping to deal with one of the many mysteries of her life. But now she was even more confused.

She took one deep breath after another, clutching at her chest. What the heck had just happened? What was Levi so worked about, what was he— it was another lie of his, another act, it had to be, Hange at last decided. What else it could be? Levi, no, Ackerman, he couldn’t really speak the truth just now? Because if that was the truth, then—

The loud bang of the closing door snapped Hange out of her reverie.

She was being naïve and foolish, again.

She was letting him get into her head, she was allowing him to fool her once more. But she wouldn’t let him do it, not after everything she had gone through.

She also couldn’t let him distract her from the case. Be her name Krista or Historia, but that girl needed to be saved. Hange had to save her.

And she wouldn’t be able to find her if she continued to stare numbly at the wall.

Hange shook her head, pushed the hair back from her face and fixed the lapels of her coat. She had no time for confusing feelings, she had to get back to work.

She was fully intent on doing that, until she remembered what had helped her get her focus back. The front door was thrown closed…

Hange shrieked, her hands flying to her head. Ackerman! He had escaped!

With a lightning speed, she rushed out of the room and out of the apartment. She took two stairs at the time, hurrying to get to the bottom of the stairwell. Her mind worked just as fast as her legs, as Hange tried to predict what direction Ackerman would take. Where would he go? Would she be able to find him? Should she even find him, after everything that just transpired?

By the time, she reached the exit of the apartment complex and tumbled out on a street, Hange was completely out of breath. She took a fleeting second, doubling over in an attempt to stop her lungs from burning out. Shit, she was getting too old for this kind of thing.

With her breathes still coming out way too rapidly, Hange slowly straightened out. Left or right? Which direction Ackerman would take? Maybe, if she was lucky, she’d catch him before he ran away.

But as Hange turned her gaze to her left, she was surprised to see that the escaped criminal… didn’t actually escape. He was standing right next to her, lazily smoking a cigarette.

“I thought you had a girl to save, detective?” he asked in a bored, indifferent voice.

Hange hated how good he was at concealing what was going on inside him. She was still shaking.

She also hated how attractive the damn bastard was, especially while smoking.

But Ackerman was right. There was a girl, and she needed to be saved.

Hange shrugged, adopting a more confident stance. She couldn’t let him know she was worried that he left. Or how handsome she thought he was. She had embarrassed herself plenty already.

So with a determined face, Hange lifted an arm, hailing a taxi.

There was no time for feelings. Not when there was work needed to be done.

***

The time they’ve spent in taxi was spent in silence.

Hange was looking out of the window, stubbornly refusing to even look in his direction. Levi himself was staring at his knees, lost to his own thoughts.

There was a lot he had to think about, the main focus, of course, was on Kenny and his involvement with Reiss and his new-found daughter.

Levi had kept a faint hope that when they got to their apartment, Kenny would be there, laying on a coach with a cigarette in one hand and a bottle of beer in another. Until the very end, he hoped that this whole ordeal with kidnapping and letters from Kenny the Reaper was a result of a weird coincidence.

Unfortunately, his hope was crushed without mercy.

Kenny wasn’t at home, and what’s more, the state of their apartment frightened Levi. Kenny wasn’t as obsessed with cleanliness as him, but he had never created such messes either. At least, it had never happened during all these years they’ve lived together. Was the mess caused by the fact that Levi had left? Or was Kenny truly going crazy?

If he decided to kidnap a girl, Reiss’ daughter, and then run off to god knows where, then he was definitely not quite right in his head.

But that wasn’t the only thing occupying Levi’s mind. Ashamed as he was to admit it, Kenny wasn’t in his thoughts nearly as often as was Hange.

Their fight back at his apartment was, for the lack of better word, a complete disaster. He made a mistake, he shouldn’t have lost his cool, he shouldn’t have admitted the things Hange didn’t have to know.

For fuck’s sake, he practically admitted that he was smitten with her. Worse yet, he almost admitted just how far he was willing to go not to hurt her. It was dangerous and it was foolish. Luckily, Hange wasn’t too interested in listening to what he had to say.

And still, the things that she had said hurt him. More than Levi was ready to admit.

She really lost all trust in him, didn’t she? Perhaps, this outcome was not at all surprising, but… painful nevertheless.

Levi stole a glance at Hange - she wasn’t looking back at him. So he allowed himself to admire her profile. Her bright, brown eyes, that hawkish nose, those enticing lips… He sighed, tearing his gaze away.

Coming here was certainly a mistake, he could have hid a little better, could have tried to run from Hange for the second time. He could have done so much more, could have at least attempted to not get caught in all of this.

Too late for any regrets now, he thought bitterly. Besides, it wasn’t like he had come here for Hange, right? He had to get Kenny out of whatever shit he had involved himself into this time.

Kenny, he was there for Kenny. For him and him only.

He had to repeat this to himself a couple of times more, because with Hange sitting so close to him, with their thighs slightly touching in the backseat of the taxi, it was hard to remember his main and initial goal. With Hange so close, it was getting hard to focus at all.

He had to think of something else.

Levi looked out of the window, watched the streets they passed by. They were getting close. Close to the house of the man he murdered.

Levi gulped. Perhaps, the idea to focus on something else wasn’t as sound as it seemed at first.

Another train of thought then. He turned to look at Hange again.

He couldn’t think about her, but there was the matter of their case. He could try and pay attention to it.

“You mentioned that the girl is missing for almost a week. Why are you the only one who’s working on finding her then? Aren’t these types of cases supposed to be…” he waved his hand around, gesturing uncertainly. “Especially time-sensitive?”

Hange sighed, showing just how stressed she truly was. “They usually are time-sensitive. But… thing is… no one actually cares if I solve this case or not.”

“Do you mean—”

“Yes. Krista, or, well,” she winced, “Historia, doesn’t have a family. She doesn’t seem to have any friends either. We received the tip about her disappearance from a fucking anonymous call. No one even noticed that she is gone. I talked with the students at her college, and some seemed sympathetic, some even mildly worried about her well-being, but no one actually cared about her. No one truly knew her too, at least, no one knew her well enough. As I asked about Krista, I got the same answer. She was kind, always ready to help. She was attentive and diligent during classes. And that world ‘was’,” Hange shook her head, her palms clenching into fists. “It seemed like everyone had already accepted that she was gone for good.”

Hange sounded so sad, so frustrated, Levi desperately wished to give her what little comfort that he could. He understood now, why she was so determined to find that missing girl and bring her home.

It was good to know that people like Hange existed. People, who would do their best to try and help someone else.

Levi could be that girl, he realized. If he went missing and Kenny wasn’t there to find him, no one would care to help him. If something like that ever happened to him, he could only hope to come across a person, who would be as selfless and kind as Hange.

If there were more people like her, perhaps, his life wouldn’t be so miserable. Perhaps, he’d be a different person.

But pondering on it was pointless now. He was who was he was. For the better or worse, Hange was who she was too.

“So no one is pushing you to hurry?” Levi glanced at her beneath his fridge. “Then what was that shit about? When you ran out of my apartment, red in face and panting like a dog?”

“Oi,” Hange slapped his knee. “Fuck you.”

“Fuck me?” Levi raised his eyebrow, remembering their first conversation. “Aren’t we moving a little too fast?”

“Shut up,” she grumbled, turning her face away. Just before she did, Levi saw the red on her cheeks.

Hange blushed. Hange, the hot-shot detective and a huge pain in the ass, had actually blushed after his stupid joke.

Well… now Levi had something to be proud of.

“I just thought—” she huffed, moving hair from her face. “It doesn’t matter what I thought, but… thanks for not running away. I… appreciate it. Looking for you would be a large inconvenience,” she gave him a side-glance, her lips twitching. “Thanks for not creating even more problems for me, I guess.”

And who said that Hange wasn’t a paragon of politeness? Levi almost felt good about himself. He almost thought that things between them were… not as disastrous as they actually were.

“We are almost there,” Hange announced, nervously tapping fingers against her thigh.

The bubble busted. There was no time to fool around. There was no time for playful banter and witty back and forth. There was no time to… appreciate that bright sparkle in Hange’s eyes.

Levi nodded, acknowledging her words, but remained speechless. What was there to say? He was going to the house that belonged to a man his uncle had killed right in front of his own eyes. And he was going there willingly. God, his life was just a string of one fucked up shitty event after another.

Hopefully, this visit would help him learn more about Kenny’s new job and, maybe, even find Kenny himself.

Hope… that’s all he had these days.

The taxi took a turn and drove up to the tall, black gates. Levi remembered climbing over it during that awful night two months ago.

This time, he wasn’t climbing over it.

Hange got out of the taxi, just as they approached the front gates. She spoke through the intercom, requesting entrance. After a long moment, the gates slowly opened and the taxi drove inside, bringing them to the large doors.

Front doors. Last time Levi was getting inside through the back door. Well, another improvement. Another sign that this visit, hopefully, wouldn’t end so horribly.

Hange paid the taxi driver and told him not to wait for them. Together they exited the car.

As they walked to the door, she leaned in to him and whispered, “It’d be best if you don’t tell the grieving widow that your uncle killer her husband.”

“I’m not an idiot, four-eyes.”

Hange chuckled and lifted her arms, palms-up. “I’m just saying. I don’t think she’s eager to meet us as it is.”

When the front door had finally opened, they were met by a butler. A fucking butler, dressed in a suit and tie and with glasses on his face. Levi stared at him, incredulously.

Killing people in general went against Levi’s principles, and killing the owner of this house in particular was obviously wrong, but stealing from him? Perhaps, he and Kenny should have also taken a few paintings.

“Good day,” Hange smiled – to Levi the expression seemed a little forced. “I’m detective Zoe and I wanted to—”

“I know,” the butler bowed his head, gesturing for them to follow him. “The Lady asked me to bring you to her office.”

The Lady? It took all of Levi’s willpower not to scoff. Rich people were ridiculous. That’s why he preferred to steal from them. Served those fuckers right.

The butler led them through a big, brightly lit hall, up the majestic stairwell, through a row of ugly paintings, and finally they stood before a brown oak door.

“The Lady is inside,” the butler said, taking a step back. “I’ll bring tea in just a few minutes. Now if you’ll excuse me…”

Hange waved her hand, obviously not interested in his false politeness. She threw the door open, walking inside without waiting for the invitation. So that was detective Hange at work? Levi watched her, hiding his amused expression.

“Sorry that we didn’t give you a heads-up,” she spoke to the woman that was sitting behind a long, mahogany desk. Suddenly Levi realized it was the same room, where Kenny had killed a man. Suddenly he realized that he was staring at the face of a woman, who had lost a husband because of him and Kenny. Avoiding the widow’s gaze, he did his best to hide behind Hange. “But there’s something we wanted to discuss.”

“Did you find my husband’s killer?”

No, but I'm his nephew and I was there when your husband had died, Levi almost blurted out. But Hange had warned him. So he wisely kept his mouth shut.

“No,” Hange walked further inside, plopping down on a chair. Much more humbly, Levi did the same. “But we think your husband is related to our other case. So we were wondering if we can ask you a few questions?”

“Who are we?” the widow arched her perfectly thin eyebrow. “Last time we spoke, I didn’t remember you having an assistant.”

Hange’s smile became strained. “That’s, um, Levi,” she gestured at him. “My, well, he’s sort of my partner.”

“A partner, huh?”

“He helps me with the case,” Hange answered vaguely. “Now about our questions…”

The widow arrogantly waved her hand, allowing Hange to continue. “Just be quick about this. After my husband’s death, I have a lot of work on my hands.”

And all of it because of him and Kenny. Great. Levi sat lower in his seat.

“I remember you mentioning…” Hange took out her notebook, Levi cringed at the sight of it. As he watched her shift through it, he briefly wondered if that note he had left for her was still there. Did she tear it out, rip into pieces and then burn the rest? Or did she… leave it there, so she could stare at it whenever she felt especially angry? Levi wasn’t sure which option was more preferable and which one would make him feel more sad. Meanwhile, Hange continued, “A girl who visited your husband. Do you remember what she looked like? Can you describe her to us?”

The widow scrunched her nose, clearly displeased. She reached to the desk’s drawer, taking out a pack of cigarettes. She opened it, putting a cigarette in between her lips. “If you don’t mind,” she mumbled, flicking up a lighter. The widow took one long drag, letting the smoke curl up towards the ceiling. She lazily traced its movement, then, when the smoke had dissipated into nothing, she spoke, “I saw her only once, she was leaving our house late in the evening. It was dark and I didn’t get a good look on her face, but I remember that she was tall,” she squinted, looking at Hange. “Slightly taller than you. Had brown hair, gathered in a low ponytail. Her clothes were baggy, and, overall, she looked just like…”

“Like what?” Levi snappily required. “Like a criminal?”

“Well, yes,” the widow agreed, throwing the ash off her cigarette. “I think she was doing some shady work for my husband.”

“Do you by any chance have a way to contact her?” Hange asked. “A phone number or a home address…”

“And why do you need it?” the widow looked at them skeptically.

“Classified information,” Hange smoothly replied. “But it’s for the greater good, believe me.”

The widow huffed, obviously not buying it. But she put the cigarette down and reached for the drawer again.

“I don’t know if that will be of any help, but,” she rummaged through the drawer, taking out a yellow envelope. “I found this when I was looking through my husband’s things. He must have destroyed the letter that was inside it, but there is the sender’s address on the back, so…”

“Thank you for your time,” Hange spoke sincerely, snatching the envelope from the widow’s hands. “You really helped us. A lot. You might have even saved a young girl’s life.”

“Whatever,” the widow rolled her eyes. “Just get out of here already. I have the work I need to do.”

“Thank you,” Hange repeated, rising to her feet. “Have a nice day.”

“And…” the widow hesitated. “Good luck with your case. I hope you do better this time.”

The smile on Hange’s face faltered, but didn’t disappear. “I’ll do my best,” she promised, before walking out of the room.

Throwing a quick last glance at the widow, Levi dutifully followed.

***

The address on the envelope led them to the worst part of their city. To the streets that were filled with garbage, where the walls had paint falling off and most windows stood completely smashed.

Hange in her fancy light brown coat looked starkly out of place. Perhaps, Ackerman was right about her having too much privilege. Right now, the contrast between her and the more unfortunate ones were sharp as ever. Although, Ackerman’s attire wasn’t that humble either.

Hange stepped a little closer to him, in a futile attempt to hide from the unfriendly gazes that followed after her ever since they stepped into this part of the city.

“I’m surprised you’ve agreed to come here,” she spoke to him in a quiet voice, “Since I know how much of a clean freak you are.”

The look Ackerman gave her could probably freeze someone to death. “I wasn’t always living in a nice and neat apartment, four-eyes. People like me usually come from the places like that.”

Hange’s eyes widened at the realization. She glanced at the man beside her, tilted her head to study him more intently. It was hard to imagine sharp-dressed and clean-shaved Ackerman, or younger Levi living in a place like that, walking through the dirty streets with broken windows. He came a long way, it seemed. Hange was amazed at his perseverance.

“I think this is the right house,” she pointed at the grey four-story building. Hange took out the envelope, checked the address again. “Yes, this is it.”

Wordlessly, Ackerman started walking in that direction. Hange caught him just before he pushed the front door open.

“Shouldn’t we, like, knock?” she asked, doing a poor job at hiding her nervousness.

Ackerman just rolled his eyes. “Don’t be an idiot,” he scolded, adding a quiet ‘tch’. “There are several apartments here. You’re not trespassing on someone’s private property yet.”

“Oh, alright,” Hange mumbled, letting him open the door and following him inside.

The inside of the building… was dirty. There were bags of trash lying around, shards of broken glass and half-shattered empty bottles. The house wasn’t silent too, from somewhere deep inside the building a child’s wailing was heard. It was accompanied by the sounds of a fighting. Or, maybe, extremely passionate love-making. Hange desperately hoped it was the latter.

“We need to go to the basement,” she said to Ackerman, trying her best to sound nonchalant and confident.

“Basement?” he repeated incredulously. “Is the address actually pointing to a basement? Are we looking for a vampire?”

“I don’t know who we’re looking for. But here,” she thrusted the envelope to him. “You can check it for yourself.”

He pushed her hand away. “I’ll trust you on that one.”

They made their way down the stairs in silence. Not wanting to see something that wasn’t meant for the police officer’s eyes, Hange kept her gaze focused on Ackerman’s face. Unsurprisingly, his expression was indifferent. But his breaths were coming out more raged than usual and he was walking with his head bowed low.

Compared to his regular level of emotionlessness, Ackerman seemed almost overly distressed.

Was this place affecting him so much? He had hinted at his not so happy childhood before. Were bad memories the reason for his emotional state right now?

Hange placed a hand on his shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Ackerman, listen…”

Roughly, he slapped her hand away. “I’m fine, four-eyes. Focus on the task at hand.”

She stared at him, affronted. Here she was trying to— what was she trying to do? To comfort him? Because she was worried about him? Hange conceded. Perhaps, Ackerman had every right to scold her. She was losing her focus. She couldn’t allow herself that.

As they climbed to the end of the stairs, Hange looked around, searching for an apartment 009. It stood just at the end of the hallway, and without hesitation she marched right there.

She knocked, quite forcefully. And received no answer. She huffed, ignoring Ackerman’s amused gaze, and knocked again. Again, there was no answer.

Hange put her ear closer to the door, listening to any signs of life inside. There was… nothing.

“I think no one is at home,” she announced mournfully to Ackerman. “Perhaps, we can come back later…”

“Or we can stop wasting precious time,” he rolled his eyes. “Move your ass, four-eyes, I’ll get us inside.”

Ackerman went down on his knees before the door, searching for something in the pocket of his jacket.

It took Hange a long moment to realize what he was about to do. As soon as that realization kicked in, however, she rushed to pull Ackerman away from that door.

“What are you doing?” she cried out. “Ackerman, it’s illegal!”

He gave her a pointed look. “I’m a criminal, remember?”

“I’m not! I can’t let you break inside someone’s house, I’m a police officer!”

“And can you let a young girl suffer? My uncle is an impatient man, if she pissed him off…”

“Don’t joke about it!” Hange scolded. Fuck, she didn’t know what to do. On one hand, she couldn’t let Ackerman just break into someone’s house. On the other, she couldn’t really waste any more time.

“You can look the other way, four-eyes,” Ackerman proposed, his voice an octave softer. “I won’t tell anyone.”

Damn it, Hange couldn’t believe what she was about to do. Ackerman and his damn influence, if Erwin ever finds out…

She sighed, surrendering, and turned away from that door. “Do your thing already,” she urged. “I’ll be… on a look-out. Or whatever you people say.”

“You people?” he repeated teasingly. “What kind of people?”

Hange could practically hear the laughter in his voice. Well, at least, someone was enjoying himself.

“Criminals,” she gritted.

“Just don’t forget that it’s a nasty criminal,” he said, “That helps you solve this case.”

Gods, what a fucker. But he was right. He was helping her. For his own reasons, sure, but even so, Hange was working with him for merely a day, and already she accomplished so much. Perhaps, after all of that mess was over, she could even thank him.

If he wouldn’t give her another reason to hate him.

Ackerman dealt with the door just in mere seconds. Hange didn’t know that it was possible to break the locks so swiftly. He surely was talented.

“Wow, you really are good at it,” she marveled under her breath.

“Figures why you couldn’t catch us, eh?”

So he was not only a fucker, but a cocky one as well. Hange shouldn’t have found that trait of his attractive. He lied to her, for god’s sake. But she had to admit – he looked damn good while doing it.

Ackerman opened the door and let Hange go in first. She did, a bit precautiously.

The first thing she noticed was, of course, the absence of the light. Outside the afternoon sun was shining brightly, painting everything in warm orange colors, but here, in the basement, it was dark as ever. Distinctively, Hange could hear the sound of the pipes leaking, the steady drop, drop, drop that set her just a little further up on edge.

She blindly searched for the switch on the wall. As soon as she had found it, a lone lightbulb filled the room with faint light.

Apart from that, the interior of the apartment wasn’t so different from the interior of the whole building. It was in similar bad shape, with torn wallpapers and leaking ceilings. But, surprisingly, the apartment also seemed strangely empty, like whoever was living there didn’t actually consider it their home.

As Hange looked around, she found nothing personal there, no photographs or postcards or any other kind of trinkets people usually treasured.

There were some clothes thrown here and there, but that was about it. The rest of the apartment was disappointingly empty.

“I don’t think we’ll be able to find something here,” Ackerman said, as he walked inside beside her.

Truthfully, Hange was of the same opinion. But they came here. They broke inside. She wouldn’t leave until she finds at least something remotely useful.

“Let’s look around,” she said, deciding to start with the kitchen.

Unfortunately, there was nothing useful in the kitchen. The only thing Hange found was the insane amount of instant noodles and cheap beer.

No clues were found inside the living room as well. She looked under the dusty old couch and the rug, behind the shattered TV-screen and the wardrobe. But she found nothing.

Met with the absence of the clues and Ackerman’s increasing impatience, Hange was starting to get desperate.

“We’ll find something,” she murmured, to assure both Ackerman and herself.

He simply clicked his tongue. “I searched the bedroom already. I didn’t find anything that might be of some interest.”

“I’ll go and have another look,” Hange stubbornly pushed past him. “Perhaps, you missed something.”

“Or, perhaps,” he countered, his voice laced with venom. “This lead is a dead-end. And we’re just wasting our time.”

“Need I to remind you that this is the only lead we have? Because you’re unable to find your own uncle.”

Hange knew she had said the wrong thing as soon as the words had left her mouth. She didn’t mean it, not really. But she was frustrated. She was tired and lost, and Ackerman’s proximity and their shared history were making her even more stressed than she already was.

But all of it didn’t mean that Ackerman deserved her bitterness. Not in this moment, at least. Hange knew she was in the wrong, she wanted to take her words back, but then— then Ackerman decided to retaliate.

“And need I to remind you that the only reason I’m here is because you can’t solve this shitty case all by yourself. So stop accusing me of being useless when I’m helping you out of the kindness of my heart.”

“Out of the kindness of your heart?” Hange repeated, completely scandalized. She couldn’t believe that she was meaning to apologize to that shithead just moments ago. And he had the audacity— Gods, he infuriated her to no end. “You’re a fucking asshole, Ackerman. When you were lying to me like a total scumbag, were you doing it out of the kindness of your fucking heart as well?”

Ackerman was getting riled up to, his face became contorted with faint lines of anger. His hands clenched into fists, he took a step forward, breathing heavily. “Are you still going on about that thing, really? Yes, I lied to you, but I’m sure I’m not the only person in this life who did it. So can you just let it go already?”

“Let it go?” Hange felt like she was boiling, there was so much fury inside of her that it seemed like it was pouring out of her. She wanted to smash or break something, preferably Ackerman’s stupidly handsome face. “Are you seriously asking if I can let it go? Do you really not understand how much—” she faltered, choking on the hurricane of her emotions. “I trusted you, Levi, I believed you were a good man. For god’s sake, I was starting to develop f—”

Hange abruptly stopped herself. She was angry, true, she was overwhelmed as well. But she was not so lost as to reveal to him just what he truly made her feel. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing how good his lies were and how much they’ve hurt her.

After taking a deep breath, she risked a glance at Ackerman. He was staring right at her, wide-eyed and shocked and… was that sadness in his eyes?

Before Hange could decipher his expression, it changed again, became more cautious.

She blinked, and Ackerman was already moving, rapidly, in her direction. All out of sudden, he was standing right beside her, close enough for Hange to hear just how loudly his heart was beating.

Confused, she wanted to push him away, she meant to do it, but before she could react, Ackerman had her encircled in his arms. He pulled her to the side, and just as Hange was trying to get away, they swayed and tumbled. In a mess of limbs, both of them fell onto the ground.

No more than a second later, Hange heard a loud, sudden noise.

A noise she knew so well. A gunshot.

Confused and with her ears ringing, Hange tried to make sense of her surroundings. There was a gunshot, and she fell but she wasn’t on a ground. Ackerman was on the ground, and she was lying right on top of him. Hange stared at him, wide-eyed and shaken.

Their sudden close proximity made her thoughts move even slower.

Still in Ackerman’s embrace, she turned her head in the direction, where that gunshot had come from. A girl stood there, her gun raised and aimed at them.

How long had she been standing there? How in the world Hange hadn’t seen her enter?

The reason for her lack of caution was still beside her, holding her tightly to his chest.

It felt good to be so close to him, Hange felt so warm and safe—

“Get the fuck off me,” feeling her face burn, she pushed Ackerman away, and jumped up to her feet.

“That’s the thanks I get for saving your life,” he grumbled, standing up as well and dusting off his jacket. “And I did it for the second time, four-eyes.”

“Shut up,” Hange gritted, returning her attention to the girl who almost shot them both. She was tall and brown-haired. Could it be their mysterious lead?

“I’m terribly sorry to interrupt… whatever that was,” for a second the girl’s lips curled in a wicked smirk, but then she gripped the gun in her hands tighter, her finger going to the trigger. “But who the fuck are you and what are you doing in my house?”

Still slightly shaking from the whole ordeal, Hange’s fingers trembled as she took out her police badge, showing it to the girl. “I’m detective Hange Zoe, and I came to ask you some questions.”

The hand that held the gun didn’t lower. “Regarding?” the girl asked.

“Regarding Krista Lenz’s disappearance.”

The girl relaxed. The gun was tucked safely inside her leather jacket. “So the police have finally taken notice of that case? Took you long enough.”

“I’m hoping to rectify that mistake. And I hope I’ll be able to bring Krista home. What is your name?” Hange smiled and tentatively offered her hand for the girl to shake.

“Ymir,” just as cautiously, she shook Hange’s hand. “And Krista isn’t her real name, you know?”

“She is Historia, right?” the smile on Hange’s face widened, as she saw Ymir’s genuine surprise. “We found that bit of information already.”

“Seems like you’re a real deal then,” Ymir concluded with a nod. “I’ll share what I know with you. But,” she raised a finger. “I have a condition – you’ll let me join the investigation.”

Their crew was rapidly growing, and two-thirds were presented by criminals, Hange thought grimly. Well, she was ready to do anything to bring Historia home. It seemed like she would have to stick to her own promise.

Just when Hange was ready to accept Ymir and her proposition, Ackerman took a step forwards. His eyes were narrowed to slits as he glared at their new companion.

“And what guarantee we have that we can trust you?”

“You have no guarantee,” Ymir replied, staring down at him. “But as long as our goals align and as long as you promise not to hurt Historia, I promise not to betray you.”

Ah, so their crew was rapidly growing and they couldn’t really trust each other. A recipe for a horrible disaster, but… Hange had no other options.

She clasped Ymir’s shoulder, giving her the most convincing of her smiles. “Welcome aboard then. What have you managed to find out?”

Ymir grinned and turned around, gesturing for them to follow. “Probably much more than you did. Come with me, I’ll show it to you.”

#the quote from community perfectly summarises this chapter #'i think you two like to partner up on cutesy capers so you can hold hands in the dark and address your urges in semi-acceptable scenarios'#nothing else in this chapter but this!#levihan

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