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jiminniethemarshmallow · 3 years

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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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the-bau-quinjet · 3 years

Text

But with you, it’s different...

So, I’ve combined two of my great obsessions: Criminal Minds and Taylor Swift. Pretend the reader is Taylor Swift in the sense that she wrote and recorded the songs, but that’s it. Also, the songs are all out of order and not from the albums so just pretend that’s okay. I don’t reference the albums, but individual songs and yeah. It’s honestly kind of a mess, but also makes me happy. This is part 1! I have most of it written, so I should be able to post the other parts pretty soon. I think there will be 3 actual parts and then a short epilogue! Last thing, Spencer is a little out of character. I (try to) explain that later!!

Summary: Reader is a famous singer with a murderous stalker. Spencer has to go undercover to protect her.

warnings: mentions of murder, anxious reader

Word Count: 7940

You weren’t expecting anything out of the ordinary to happen tonight. It was just the usual Saturday night. Honestly, you were looking forward to having a boring two weeks off. You absolutely loved touring and performing and seeing your fans, but it was going to be great to have some time just to write again. Writing music has always helped you de-stress and get your emotions out, and you were supposed to finally have a chance to do just that. However, the universe had different plans. Plans that involved the FBI.

This was your second night in DC. It was the first of some of the bigger cities on your tour where you were doing two shows, so you are even more exhausted than normal. You really only just started the US leg of your tour, but the two weeks off was well earned from the Europe, Asia, and South America legs.

As you begin to perform the second to last song, you start to feel the familiar sadness you get when finishing a show. It’s almost as though the adrenaline rush from the excitement of so many screaming fans is wearing off and you can’t help but feel a bit sorry that the fun is coming to an end. After so many performances though, you’ve learned how to hide the emotions and give the audience your best fake smile. The last song is where you have some real fun, so just make it there.

As you duck off stage to change for the final performance, you can’t help but notice the small group of people conversing, quite tensely, with your security team. They don’t look like the normal fans who would try to sneak backstage, too official. You make eye contact with one of them. He looks to be about your age, but you’ve never been great at guessing. There’s something about him that makes you want to find out exactly who he is right now, but you can’t.

You’re left wondering about his identity as you run back onstage for the grand finale. You feel a genuine smile appearing as you feel the heat from the fireworks and listen to the happy cheers from the crowd. You’re last song goes off without a hitch, but you’re exhausted. There’s nothing you want more than to just shower and sleep, but there’s always a buzz about the cast and crew that prevents anyone from leaving right away.

“Thank you for a great second night DC! Goodnight!” You shout into the mic as you duck back offstage to ride out the post show high. You are still chatting with some of the dancers you’ve become friends with when Carrie, the head of security, comes up with one of the men you saw arguing with her earlier.

“Y/N? Can I talk to you for a minute?” You turn, surprised to see the stern man standing behind Carrie. “Yeah, sure.” You turn to excuse yourself from the dancers, wishing them a goodnight before turning back to Carrie.

“We can go do your dressing room, that’s where the others are waiting.” Carrie says with a nervous smile on her face.

“The others?” You ask confused, jogging to keep up with the brisk pace she has set for you and the stern man. “Who are we talking to?”

“I’m sure you have a lot of questions. We will explain everything as soon as we meet up with the rest of the team.” The stern man spoke quietly, but with confidence as he followed behind you and Carrie. Before you could ask anything else, you were being ushered into your dressing room, coming face to face with the other two people you saw arguing with Carrie earlier. The first one you notice is a woman with jet black hair and fierce eyes. The other is the tall, lanky man you made eye contact with.

You’re a little excited to get a closer look. He looks a little awkward at first glance, but you can tell he’s a sneaky sort of attractive underneath the perfectly placed tie and the comfy cardigan. Before you can get too caught up in how good looking these three strangers are, you turn to the stern one and ask “Who are you, and what are you doing here?” Your tone clearly indicates the confusion you’re feeling.

“Ms. L/N, my name is Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner. I am the Unit Chief for the Behavioral Analysis Unit at the FBI.” You can feel your eyes go wide as he shows you a badge with his picture and title. Before you can respond, he begins talking again. “These are SSAs Emily Prentiss” the woman gives you a reassuring smile and slight wave, “and Dr. Spencer Reid.” The sneakily attractive one nods his head in your general direction.

The woman just introduced as Emily chimes in “we are here because we believe there is a killer targeting fans of your music. We have been tracking murders for the past two weekends. The first was in Louisville, Kentucky, then Columbus, Ohio, and then two right here in D.C.”

“I was just in Louisville… and Columbus.” You feel yourself beginning to get dizzy as you try to comprehend what the agents are telling you.

“Yes, and now you’re in DC.” The boss man is talking again. “We made the connection this afternoon as you had two shows here in DC.” The room is starting to spin as you listen to the man talk. “After more digging, we found each victim had purchased a ticket to your show. Additionally, they all had social media accounts dedicated as fan pages to you.” Agent Hotchner continues speaking as you nod along, trying to comprehend how this was happening. You don’t even realize you are tuning him out as you begin to sway on your feet. You can see his mouth moving, and the growing look of concern on his face is the last thing you see before the world goes dark.

You can hear a faint beeping as you begin to wake up. For a moment, you are blissfully unaware of the murders before the memory of meeting the three agents comes back to you. You instantly sit up and look around, trying to figure out where you are. You can see a very muscular bald man through a window, talking to someone in scrubs.

Scrubs. A nurse. You are in the hospital.

Your heart rate begins to calm down before skyrocketing again when you hear “Ms. L/N?” from the other side of the room. Turning with wide eyes and a scared expression, you throw your arms up to defend yourself from the unknown voice.

“Sorry! Sorry, uh- I didn’t mean to scare you! I’m Dr. Spencer Reid.” Instantly you relax again at the familiar face. You drop your arms back to the bed, shifting into a more comfortable position before asking “Okay, Doctor. What’s wrong with me? Why am I in the hospital?”

He looks at you with a sheepish expression, rubbing the back of his neck before he admits, “Oh, I’m not that kind of doctor. I’ll go get a nurse or someone. Try to think back on what you remember before waking up here.” He shuffles out of the room as you try to replay the conversation with the other agents.

Well, it wasn’t much of a conversation with them doing all of the talking, but still. The unknown man from outside your room window and the nurse he was talking to come into the room with Dr. Reid. The nurse begins checking your vitals as she asks you some questions.

“Hi there. It’s good to see you up. How are you feeling?” She wears a small smile.

“Oh, um, I feel fine. I think. I’m just confused about how I ended up here. I remember talking to the agents at the arena, but that’s it.” You close your eyes as you try to remember more, but nothing comes to you.

“That was only about 45 minutes ago, dear.” The nurse’s kind voice helps settle you. “You fainted while the agents were talking to you. They brought you here. You should be good to leave in a few minutes as long as your vitals are good.”

“Thank you.” You return her kind smile as she marks information on your chart before leaving the room.

“Ms. L/N, this is SSA Derek Morgan.” The Doctor Agent is talking again.

“Please, call me Y/N.” You rub your head, continuing to try to remember more about your condition. Before either man in the room can speak up, a new thought occurs to you. “If I fainted, why doesn’t my head hurt? The floor in my dressing room is not soft.” You look between the two men for an explanation.

The doctor shifts his weight from foot to foot a blush appearing on his face as Agent Morgan speaks up. “That is because Pretty Boy over here” he claps a hand onto the doctor’s shoulder “caught you before you hit the ground.” “Oh, um… Thank you.” You can feel the blush beginning to form as you think about his arms being around you.

“It was no problem, really. Can we ask you a few questions?” He moves on quickly. “Oh sure thing Dr. Reid. Or Agent Reid. Agent Dr. Reid?” You can feel the blush growing as you ramble.

“Just Sp-Spencer is fine.” He cuts you off before you can continue suggesting different honorifics. “What do you remember from what Agent Hotchner was telling you?”

“He said someone was mur-murdering fans of me.” Tears spring to your eyes as you think about it. “That someone was killed in Kentucky and Ohio and then two people here in DC.” You squeeze your eyes shut, willing the tears not to fall.

Get a hold of yourself.

You feel a new weight on your hand before hearing Spencer begin talking again. “Take your time.” You open your eyes to see him patting your hand delicately. He moves back after you take a few deep, calming breaths.

“I’m sorry. I just feel awful knowing people are dy-dying because of me. Is there anything I can do to help?” You choke on the words a bit, realizing the full gravity of the situation.

“Do you recognize any of these people?” Agent Morgan pulls out photos of three women and one man, handing them to you to sift through. He seems to be staring at Spencer, but you just focus on the pictures. You can feel the tears building again as you realize who they are.

“I do.” You take another breath before continuing. “I haven’t met them before, but they are all really active on different social sites. I try to talk to as many fans as I can ya know? They are why I am where I am. Is that why they were killed? Oh god. No no no no.” Your breathe increases in speed as you think about everything that is happening.

“Hey, hey, hey, none of this is your fault.” Spencer is patting your hand again as he tries to calm you down. Just then, the nurse comes back with some paperwork for you to sign in order to leave.

“You are free to go Ms. L/N. Just sign these forms and hand them in at the desk on your way out.” She exits the room swiftly.

“Would you mind coming back to our office to finish talking?” Agent Morgan asks.

“Of course not. Anything I can do to help.” You turn in the forms before following them to a black SUV. Spencer opens the door for you to get in the back before he slides in next to you. You don’t even have the brain power to consider why he isn’t sitting in the front. You just grab his hand and squeeze it, unable to get the thoughts out of your head that this was all your fault.

“This is not your fault. You had no idea what was happening, and now that you do you are trying to help.” Spencer looks at you reassuringly as he squeezes your hand right back. You simply nod back. You don’t trust yourself to speak without crying. You just need to calm down before you get to the office.

About 15 minutes later you pull up to the FBI building that houses the BAU. They must’ve brought you to a hospital near Quantico. They lead you through security up to the fifth floor. You walk through a set of glass doors, passing a few desks before entering a conference room. “Do you need anything? Coffee, water?” Spencer asks as Agent Morgan leaves the room.

“Oh, um, no I’m okay for now.” You stare at your hands as you go to sit down. “Actually, could I get a jacket or something?” You gesture to what you’re wearing as you ask. You haven’t had a chance to change yet, meaning you are wearing a black, sequined romper that is basically a leotard with how short it is. Perfect for performing, but not exactly FBI attire. “Of co-course! I’ll be right back.” He practically runs out of the room.

A few minutes later, he pushes the door back open. “Here’s some clothes you can change into if you want. Or just a sweatshirt.” You look up from your position in the chair, rising to take the clothes.

“Thank you.” You look from the clothes to him realizing you need to change, but are in a room full of windows in an unfamiliar building.

He catches on a few seconds later, leading you out of the room. “The bathroom is this way!” He squeaks out as you both walk down a hallway outside the glass doors you came in. “I’ll wait here to show you back.” You smile as you brush past him, whispering thank you as you close the door.

You instantly take off the romper, sliding on some FBI sweatpants and a matching sweatshirt that smells like vanilla and new books. The scent is oddly comforting. You would think a standard FBI sweatshirt would smell new, but this scent is calming your nerves. You fix your makeup as best you can before heading out of the bathroom. Spencer is a few feet away talking to a beautiful blonde woman. She looks effortlessly gorgeous. She smiles as she notices you, waving you to join them.

“Ms. L/N, it’s lovely to meet you, although I do wish it was under better circumstances. I am SSA Jennifer Jureau, but you can call me JJ. The rest of the team is waiting for us to join them.” She smiles kindly, but you are frozen in place. You feel like a deer caught in the headlights.

Spencer grabs your arm lightly, pulling you out of your trance. “It’s okay. Just breathe.” He whispers as the three of you start walking back toward the conference room you were in earlier.

He lets your arm fall back to your side before guiding you back into the room behind JJ. You freeze again upon entering the room. You recognize Agents Hotchner, Prentiss, and Morgan, but are surprised by the other two faces. There is an older man with salt and pepper hair smiling kindly at you. He reminds you of your father. Then there is a very bubbly blonde, in a very colorful dress and matching glasses.

They introduce themselves as SSA David Rossi and technical analyst Penelope Garcia. The unit chief begins to describe the case again, going slower this time given your earlier episode. “We believe the unsub is targeting fans of yours who he believes is unworthy of your attention. He worships you and views his victims as people who are not devoted enough to you.”

You can’t decide how to respond, so you wait for another agent to continue. “Do you know of anyone who might be overly obsessed with you? Maybe they sent you letters that were a bit more personal than normal?” At this point, you decide you are done being controlled by this situation. What happened to those people is awful, but you can’t change it. You need to be strong to help prevent it from happening to anyone else.

“I haven’t finished my fan letters from this week yet. I try to go through as many as possible, but there is only so much time in a day.” At this point you are pacing. Walking around has always helped you with thinking things over. “There is one letter that sticks out from three weeks ago. That was before the murd-” you stutter on the word. “Before anything happened though. Could that be relevant?” You ask, looking hopeful. If the agents are surprised by your change of attitude they don’t mention it.

“It might be. What did it say?” Agent Hotchner asks, the same stern expression adorning his features.

“I don’t remember all of it, but it looked like it was written on a typewriter, so it stood out. It said something about how they wondered if my hair smelled like peaches after I finished a show. I thought it was weird because my shampoo is peach scented, but how could they possibly know that? I figured I must have met them in passing, you know. I meet a lot of fans just walking around the different cities. Something just felt weird about this letter though. Like a bad feeling. I mean, my hair doesn’t really retain the scent of my shampoo all that much. So how could he know that unless he knew what shampoo I use? But actually, I use a personalized shampoo so I can change the scent every time I but it- it must’ve been a lucky guess, right? Maybe I just look like I would use peach scented shampoo” You feel like you are talking a mile a minute, but you can’t get yourself to stop. You practically fall back into your chair as you finish rambling about the letter, looking up to see unmistakable expressions of concern on the agents’ faces.

“What? What does that mean? Oh god- How does he know my shampoo smells like peaches?” You look between all the agents as they seem to be communicating with just their eyes. You resort to taking calming breaths again. They’ll fill you in eventually, you need to breathe. You drop your head between your thighs as you push your chair away from the table. Breathe in for 7 seconds, hold for 7, and breathe out for 7. This always helps calm you down before a show.

You choose to ignore the agents quietly talking to each other again as you focus on slowing your heart rate back to a normal pace.

“Ms. L/N?” You look up exasperatedly, “Please, just call me Y/N.”

“Then you can call me Penelope!” The woman has such a kindness to her that you can’t help but smile back at her.

“What can I do for you Penelope?” She seems a bit surprised, but she responds in kind.

“I just wanted to ask if you wanted some coffee. Or water or anything?” You smile at her kind gesture, rising from your seat.

“Actually, some tea would be wonderful. But, please, let me come help you. These guys seem like they need to talk and it would probably be easier if I wasn’t in the room.” You smile as you walk out the door, leaving the agents slightly stunned at your observational skills in your distressed state.

Penelope follows you out and leads you to what you assume is the break room. “We don’t really have much tea, but I know where the good doctor keeps his private collection.” She whispers conspiratorially as she searches through a small cabinet. “Aha! Here it is.” She presents you with a pretty impressive collection of teas. You opt for the simple peppermint. You have always found peppermint tea the most soothing.

She hands you a mug before gesturing to the Keurig on the counter. You place the teabag in the cup, selecting the largest cup on the machine, and brewing hot water for your tea. The two of you don’t say anything while it steeps. Penelope speaks up when you move to sit down at the small table.

“I just have to say, I am a huge fan of yours.” You can’t hide the smile that forms on your face. You have always loved meeting fans. They are just so sweet and you appreciate them beyond belief.

“Thank you so much!” She seems a bit relieved at your response. “That’s honestly so nice to hear right now. I kind of feel like a mess.” You gesture to the oversized clothes you’ve got on.

“Please, you look so gorgeous right now. It’s amazing. Your music is amazing too. I absolutely love Begin Again! It’s so romantic!” She gushes over the song.

“Honestly, that one took me forever to write. I was in a pretty bad place after a bad breakup, convinced I would never love again. Dramatic, I know.” You roll your eyes at yourself. “But then I saw these two people in a café, and they just looked so happy. The idea of a new love forming so casually right in front of me was beautiful.” You smile thinking about the couple, wondering if they are still together.

“Wow, so you can really right about anything?” She looks while asking the question.

“Pretty much. I mean, they won’t all be good. It could be the tiniest moment or a huge thing in my life. Inspiration comes from everywhere. A lot of songs actually draw from multiple experiences, not just one thing. I could totally see myself writing a song about you.”

“No way! That would be insane.” You smile at her enthusiasm.

“I’m serious! You just give of this energy that is so positive, it’s hard to remember ever being sad. I think it would be about how confident you are. Something like…” you trail off as you begin to hum, setting up your phone to record. “You’re the only one of you, baby that’s the fun of you. And I promise that nobody’s gonna love you like me!” You hum a few more bars before ending the recording.

“That was insane. How do you do that?!” She has a wild kind of excitement in her eyes.

“I don’t know. You just inspired me.” You grin at the shocked expression in her eyes.

“Sing it again!” And you can’t help but give her what she wants.

You hum a bit more of a melody that could work before jumping into the words you already said. You add a few more here and there, but nothing concrete. In your focus on singing, you don’t hear the door open behind you.

“I’m the only one of me, baby that’s the fun of me. Oh oh oh. You’re the only one of you, baby that’s the fun of you. And I promise that you’ll never find another like me.” “I don’t doubt it.” You turn in shock to look at the person behind you, seeing none other than Spencer Reid in the doorway. You don’t notice the flush of embarrassment on his cheeks that you heard his comment, just like he doesn’t notice the matching expression on your face. Penelope though, she notices. And, she can’t wait to tell Derek.

Spencer clears his throat before speaking again. “We’re ready for you to come back in if you’re up for it. We want to talk to you about a plan to keep you safe.”

“Sure thing.” You grab your tea from the table before you and Penelope follow Spencer back to the conference room. You sitting cross-legged in your seat. You feel much calmer after chatting with Penelope. Song writing has always been cathartic for you, and it is reassuring that hasn’t changed.

The agents waste no time getting down to business. “We believe the unsub has broken into your tour bus. If the letter was from him, it would explain how he knows about the peach scent.” Agent Rossi starts.

Agent Morgan continues, “It’s an easier target than a hotel room or your personal home since fewer people would be securing it.” You nod along with them. You are determined to stay strong through this.

“We want to completely ensure your safety, so we think it best to send an agent to stay with you while we work on the case.” Agent Prentiss chimes in. You feel like you’re going to get whiplash looking between all their faces.

“Since we haven’t ruled out people on the crew, we want this to remain as secret as possible. We will inform the head of security on your team, but other than that the agent will be undercover.” Agent Hotchner, stern as ever, appears to be studying your reaction.

“Okay.” You sigh. “Okay, I can handle this. I’ll be fine. I’ll have an agent with me. Who’s going undercover? Do you have a cover story planned?” You look at Agent Hotchner with nervous eyes.

“We wanted to plan the cover story with you to make it as believable as possible. What are you planning on doing for the next few weeks?” You consider what your plans consist of. Honestly, nothing but songwriting.

“I plan on mostly working on songwriting. I usually go to cafes, parks, or anywhere really with people for inspiration. If I already have an idea, I’ll write from my hotel room or from home if I’m there. If any of you have any musical experience, then we could make up a cover story about a new writing partner. Nobody would really question it because I write with new people all the time.” You glance around the room to see if anyone is willing to take you up on your offer. Nobody says anything for a minute. They are communicating with looks again.

Penelope chimes in “Reid knows how to play the piano!” You can’t help but latch on to the statement as you turn toward Spencer.

“Really, that would be so helpful! I normally write to piano or guitar and then add any additional instrumental later in the studio. If you can play, then the story would look even more believable!” You are actually getting excited about this idea working out. You finally feel like you’ve helped them with something. They probably could’ve figured it out without you, but still.

“Yes, I can play. I mean, it’s just mathematics if you think about it.” Spencer responds quietly, like his mind is somewhere else.

“Reid, if you feel comfortable with it, that story sounds like great cover.” Reid nods at Agent Hotchner. “Great. You can go to your place and grab some clothes and anything else you’ll need.” He says to Spencer before turning his attention to you. You watch as Spencer walks out with the rest of the team before turning to meet Agent Hotchner’s eye. “It’s best if we stick to your plans as closely as possible. If the unsub is someone who works with you, he will likely notice if you start changing your behavior too much.” You nod in response, mentally going through everything you do from day to day.

“Agent Reid will stay with you in your hotel room if you are comfortable with it. That is the safest arrangement since he will be close by if anything happens. We will also have agents tail you when you go out in public. We’ll have a rotation of agents in the rooms around yours each night to allow Reid to rest as well. He knows how to contact us, but we will program our numbers into your phone as well for backup. Do not hesitate to call any one of us if something feels even remotely wrong, no matter the time. Do you understand?”

Again, you nod in response. It’s a lot of information to take in and honestly, you’re still thinking about sharing a hotel room with Spencer.

“We will need to see the letter you mentioned earlier if you still have it. We would also like to go through the fan mail you currently have and any new mail that comes in. If you see anything else that feels off or seems suspicious, tell Reid or call one of us. If you remember anything else, tell Reid or call one of us.” He gives you a questioning glance to ensure you are following.

“Basically, tell Reid everything. Got it.” You try to remain lighthearted even though Agent Hotchner’s serious expression hasn’t waned in the slightest.

“It’s good to see you’ve got a good attitude about this. It’s hard to remain calm, but it will help limit any suspicion on the part of the unsub. We don’t want to escalate his plans. Do you have any questions for me?” He gives you a reassuring look as you contemplate everything he’s told you.

“What does unsub mean?” you blurt out, surprising both of you. “Sorry, that was loud.” You cringe. “I just meant, why do you call the criminal, unsub?”

You can see the faintest of smiles on his face as he replies, “Right, we can get pretty wrapped up in a case. It stands for unidentified subject. We try not to assign nicknames or anything to the perpetrators as it can affect their behavior.”

“Right. Behavior.” You try to sound like you understand, but honestly this is so much different from all the detective shows you’ve seen. Apparently, Agent Hotchner notices and explains more.

“We catch criminals by analyzing their behavior and trying to predict what they’ll do next.”

“Like psychology? Nature vs. Nurture and mental disorders?” You ask, suddenly very curious about how this all works.

“Yes, just like that, although we normally go a little deeper.”

“So what can you tell about this unsub? That way I know what to look for.” Agent Hotchner seems pleased with this question.

“The unsub is a man, likely 25-40. Age is the hardest thing to predict, so don’t follow that guideline too strictly. He likely suffers from antisocial personality disorder stemming from negligent parents and has always had trouble interacting with people. He is highly organized, which usually indicates high intelligence, but in this case could be due to the time he spends alone planning. His lack of social skills has resulted in him only working menial jobs. He won’t have worked anywhere for more than a few months before finding a new job since people find him odd or off-putting. He has always felt as though he deserves more because of his self presumed high intelligence. It is possible you met him in passing and any act of kindness toward him resulted in an obsession with you. He doesn’t have the courage to approach you, so he watches from afar or online. That’s how he found his earlier victims. Since you don’t have any shows in the next few weeks, his MO might change slightly. That’s why we want to be so cautious and make sure we can ensure your safety.” You sit quietly for a moment, trying to picture anyone who fits the description. You try to meet the people who work with you, but you certainly don’t know everyone. You were honestly hopeful the description would point you toward a suspect, but you’ve got nothing. “I can’t think of anyone like that, but now I know what to look out for. Thank you Agent Hotchner.” “Please, call me Hotch. Do you have any more questions?”

“Just one, you said earlier that maintaining a sense of normalcy will prevent us from escalating his plans. What plans exactly?” You were nervous to ask this question, wondering if you really wanted to hear the answer.

“We don’t know exactly. It is possible the unsub has been trying to work up the courage to talk to you, but since you won’t be doing shows, it is unclear how he would make contact. Reid and the other agents will be looking for anyone who appears to be in a lot of the same places you are. If you notice anyone more than one time in a day, don’t hesitate to-“

“Tell Reid or call one of you. I got it.” You smile at him again. “Thank you again.” He nods as you both exit the room. Spencer isn’t back from picking up clothes yet, so you aren’t sure exactly what to do. Penelope notices you searching the room and waves you over to her. She is talking with Agent Morgan.

“Y/N! I was just telling my Chocolate Thunder about the song you started earlier. I just need to know, what does this fine specimen inspire you to write?” She sounds so excited you can’t bear to let her down. You study the man in front of you, searching for something to sing. You don’t know why, but there’s a certain sadness in his eye. He hides it well with his masculinity and the clear smirk on his face, but you know he’s been through some shit.

You don’t want to kill the mood though, so you stick to something a little lighter than past pain. “Well, Pen, I have to say he looks like a heartbreaker.” This only encourages the smirk on his face. “The type to love ‘em and leave ‘em.” You have had a song in the back of your mind for a while so why not break it out now. Penelope shrieks as you start humming, drawing a crowd. Again, you set up your phone to record. The rest of the BAU agents crowd around Morgan’s desk as you start singing.

“Magic, madness, heaven, sin, saw you there and I thought, oh my god, look at that face. You look like my next mistake.” That draws a few chuckles as you continue humming. More words pop into your head as you think about past relationships and what the media loves to say about celebrities. “Screaming, crying, perfect storms. I can make all the tables turn. Da dada da da, Keep you second guessing like, Oh my god, who is she. I get drunk on jealousy.” You hum some more, really getting into the flow of the song. “Cause darling I’m a nightmare, dressed like a daydream.” The group claps as you end the recording.

“That was actually pretty impressive.” Agent Morgan smirks at you some more.

“Well, to be honest I’ve had the melody in my notes for weeks, but I just couldn’t think of the right words.” Yet again, his smirk grows.

“I guess I’m just that inspirational.” You choke back a laugh as you roll your eyes. You hadn’t realized the size of the crowd you had garnered. You can’t help but knock him down a few pegs.

“You know what, I changed my mind. Agent Morgan’s song would be called I Knew You Were Trouble.” The entire group laughs at that one, but all the sudden you actually have another idea.

Before long, Penelope is asking you what songs you would write about the entire team.

“Start with Hotch!”

“Well, Hotch is so serious. So it’s kind of hard. His face just screams ‘I’ve been through it and dealt it out’. Maybe something like… your string of lights is still bright to see oh, who you are is not what you did, you’re still an innocent.” Even as you half sing it, the one line feels like it could lead somewhere big. It’s not quite right, but it’s a start.

“That’s so cool. Do me next! And please, just call me Emily.” You nod at her as you think back over your previous interactions.

“Alright, don’t get mad but something just popped into my head and I can’t un-hear it. They say I did something bad, then why’s it feel so good. Most fun I ever had, and I’d do it over and over and over again if I could.” The smile on her face told you everything you needed to know, but so did JJ.

“You absolutely nailed it. That is Emily to a tee.” JJ chimed in. “I’m kind of scared to see what you can come up with for me!” Your head is swimming with lyrics and melodies, but it has been so long since you’ve had this much fun writing music with a group of people. It’s become such a solo activity for you, but these people just have so many stories to tell.

“Okay, let me think.” You pause as you observe JJ. You can tell that she is such a sweetheart from the few hours you’ve known her, but you know you would be intimidated if you went to high school with her. “Sorry to be blunt but, you’re so gorgeous, I can’t say anything to your face. Cause look at your face.”

“Why thank you!” JJ smiles as you defend the lyric choice.

“I know you are so sweet and I of course don’t mean to say you are just a pretty face, but you really do have a pretty face.” The group chuckles again and nods in agreement. “Oh, wait! I’ve got another one. You took a Polaroid of us, then discovered, the rest of the world was black and white. But we were in screaming color.” That one came out of nowhere, but it felt right.

“Beautiful. Okay, okay! Rossi’s turn!” Penelope says right as the man walks out of his office.

“My turn for what?” He looks skeptical of the group, but in a loving way.

“Y/N is coming up with song ideas for everyone! She just did Morgan, Hotch, Emily, and JJ! She did mine earlier. So it’s your turn!”

“Well then by all means, be my guest.” You close your eyes as you think through the words swimming in your head.

“While, Rossi, you have a kind aura. You seem like a parent to this group of rowdy children. Reminds me of my dad.” Again, the group laughs. You begin humming, lightly patting the desk in front of you as you think back on memories of your own parents. “I don’t know why all the trees change in the fall, but I know you’re not scared of anything at all. Don’t know if Snow White’s house is near or far away, but I know I had the best day with you today.” This tune was softer than the rest, more emotional. Everyone stops laughing as they listen to the soft melody you created.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to kill the mood.” You feel slightly awkward with the new found silence.

“Please, bella, that was beautiful. You really know how to read people.” Rossi hugs you as you blush, thanking him for the compliment.

“That only leaves the resident genius. What would you write about Reid?” JJ poses the question and suddenly all eyes are on you. In all the commotion with the other songs, you didn’t notice Spencer exit the elevator. He walked in soon enough to hear the question. Deciding not to interrupt the conversation, he hangs back to listen to your answer.

You can feel the blush heating up your face, subconsciously hugging the sweatshirt he gave you to wear earlier. After all the short melodies and lyrics you’ve come up with, you are way too tired to put your feelings toward Spencer into words.

“I’ll be honest, it’s been in my head all night.” You begin to hum, knowing this would be a song about how you felt when you first saw him backstage, to when you spoke to him in the hospital room and all the little moments since then. “Your eyes whispered have we met…” you fill in for lyrics you’ve yet to write by humming. “All I can say is it was enchanting to meet you.”

“That was beautiful.” Spencer says from behind you. You jump in surprise, nearly falling out of your chair. You didn’t even realize he was in the room.

He looks sheepish as he apologizes for scaring you. “Are you ready to go?” He asks, reaching out a hand to help you up. The rest of the profilers share a knowing look as you rise from your seated position. They all wish you a goodnight as you and Spencer enter the elevator to head to your hotel. The ride to the parking garage is quiet. You keep humming that same melody, looking for the right words to fill in the blanks.

Spencer leads you to another black SUV opening the passenger side door for you to get in the car. He tosses his bag in the back before getting in and starting the drive.

“Penelope said it was my turn, did you do songs for everyone?” Spencer beaks the silence. You turn in your seat to look at him before responding.

“Kind of. Mostly just ideas of songs. Morgan’s was the most put together, only because it was a song I already started. I recorded the whole thing though. That way I won’t forget any ideas. I can play it for you when we actually start to write some music!” You are honestly surprised by the range of ideas you have.

“Wh-what? You actually want me to help you write songs? I th-though that was just a cover.” All of the sudden Spencer seems nervous and shy. You put the ideas swimming through your head on pause so you can devote all your attention to him.

“Spencer, don’t worry about it. You don’t have to come up with any profound lyrics or brand new chord progressions. But, since we are going to be spending a lot of time together, you do have to talk to me. Otherwise it would just be weird.” You try to lighten the mood. You can tell by the way he relaxed his shoulders it worked a little. He nods in agreement as he parks the SUV in the garage dedicated to the hotel you are staying in. You take the elevator straight up to the 11th floor. It’s honestly reassuring to be able to lead him somewhere after everything that happened in the past few hours.

You dig around in your bag- that somehow followed you on your journey from the arena to the hospital to the FBI building and now back to your hotel- to find the room key. No matter what you try, you can’t seem to slide the key card into the slot in the right way. Every time you try, the little light glows red before beeping indicating the door is still locked. After the fifth try, you are about ready to scream.

Suddenly, you can feel the heat from Spencer’s body as he slides up behind you to take the room key. He slides the card into the door, wiggles it around, and then slides it back out. To your surprise, the light glows green and the door unlocks. You must be exhausted to be this shocked at the fact he opened the door. You can’t even seem to force your feet to move. You just stand there like a fool, mouth agape.

“Why?” Spencer turns to look at you with a confused expression. “Why couldn’t I… How did you…?” You just point to the door. He places his hand on the small of your back, guiding you into the room. He places his bag just inside the door before he turns around to close the door and lock the deadbolt.

Even after he led you into the room, you turned around so you could keep staring at the door. You don’t even realize you started crying. Spencer guides you to the bed and tucks you into the blankets. You know that you are going to wake up in an hour because you never sleep in pants, but you just don’t have the energy to fight him on it. He turns off the lamp, but before he walks away, you grab his arm.

“Can you stay?” You have never heard yourself sound so frail. You squeeze your eyes shut, willing the tears to stop. Spencer looks conflicted, but ultimately sits down next to you, his back against the headboard. You lay next to him in the dark, not quite touching. Once your breathe calms enough that you can talk without bursting into tears, you ask “how do you do it?”

“Do what?” You smile at the sound of genuine concern in his voice.

“How do you deal with this kind of stuff all the time? I feel like I’m falling apart. I want to be strong about it, so I can help. But then all of the sudden I can’t keep it in anymore. I just… how do you make it seem so easy?” You feel sniffly again, but you try to focus on your breathing.

“It’s not easy. I hope it never becomes easy. It’s gotten easier, of course, but the minute I stop feeling everything is the moment I let them win. To feel pain in situations like this is human. Somebody wise once told me our best defense is our ability to empathize. It’s a completely natural reaction to experiencing something so traumatic. 70% of adults in the U.S. have experienced some type of traumatic event at least once in their lives. That's 223.4 million people. It would be...” He trailed off.

“It would be what?” You angled your head up to look at him even though you couldn’t see him in the dark.

“Oh, it’s nothing. I tend to ramble. I’m sorry.” He sounded so dejected, you couldn’t stop yourself from reaching for his hand. You had to shift on the bed a bit to reach his arm, so you ended up leaning your cheek against his thigh, tossing your arm over his lap in a sort of make shift hug.

“I like it. It’s calming… and informative.” You couldn’t help but smile into his leg. “People who complain are just jealous.” That actually makes him laugh, but it doesn’t sound like a happy kind of laugh. More like a self-deprecating one. “I’m serious. You are clearly smarter than everyone else is, and you are sneaky attractive. There is a lot to be jealous about.” You dig deeper into his lap as you squeeze his hand in yours. The last thing you remember before falling asleep is the feeling of Spencer running his free hand through your hair.

You wake up slowly, eyes adjusting to the dark. You can just make out the numbers on the bedside clock to be 4:37. You must have fallen asleep talking to Spencer. Your head was still resting on his lap, his hand in your hair. You untangle yourself from the sheets to rid yourself of the extra layers that woke you up. It takes a few minutes of digging around in the dark to find one of the t-shirts you normally sleep in. In that amount of time, Spencer, still sleeping, rearranged himself to be laying on the bed rather than leaning against the headboard. You stopped for a minute to observe his sleeping form. He looks so at peace compared to the furrow of his brow and the glint in his eye that normally mean he’s thinking too hard.

As soon as you lay back down in the bed, Spencer gravitates toward you. Before long, your head is resting on his chest, his arms wrapped around you. You breathe in the scent of vanilla and new books; the rhythmic pattern of his chest rising and falling lulls you back to sleep.

Part 2

tag list:

@mac99martin

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid fluff #Criminal Minds #spencer #spencer reid one shot #criminal minds x reader

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xandraspalace · 2 years

Text

Azure Butterfly and Its Memories

----- Azure Butterfly and Its Memories || A Han Chiho [NIJISANJI] Farewell Present Picture

Summary : He leave the way he came, like morning dew, fading with no trace, Even Namiwa’s splendor shows life is a dream within a dream. If only you knew that it would be a beautiful yet so painful spring. Now you don't even know where the crystal blue butterfly flew away. Now you can only hold on tight to the memories that the butterfly left behind.

WC : 1566 Words

Warning : Grammar errors, angst, Japanese History references, Ikemen Series references, MLQC references, WMMAP references, etc.

Story Notes : This fiction is written in second person POV and gender-neutral as the pronouns. So both male and female can enjoy this fiction, have fun!

A/N : Who would have thought I would write something as a parting gift? I've been anticipating all of this ever since the announcement was made. But everything still feels unreal. Oh, I want to cry. One of my faves is about to pass and I don't know how to express my gratitude and love. I can only say thank you for everything. Stay healthy and happy, and remember all the time you have spent with us. Really, I’m crying as I wrote this. Thank you, and I love you.

MAYBE it's just an unreasonable fear. Wait, no. Of course one has reason to be afraid. It's just, you heart doesn’t want to admit and accept that reason.

The weather was quite nice that day, but the sun was not shining that bright. The spring breeze was blowing hard enough to sway the curtains of the room. It’s quiet, too quiet in fact. Yet you can do nothing but to continue your work.

Meanwhile, the owner of the room was pensive near the open window. He let the spring breeze touch his face and a smile touched his lips. But you feel there is something strange about his smile.

Han Chiho gazed out the window with an overly gentle smile. There was sadness written in his golden eyes, as if he was desperately trying to remember all the things he could see from the window.

The heights of the buildings, the busy streets with passing vehicles, even the blue hues of sky that stretched to the horizon, Chiho seemed to be fixated on remembering all the scenaries in front of him. In his hands, he let the wind sway the accessories linked to his fan.

"I leave the way I came," he murmured softly, making you who was tidying up his paperworks to halt. You immediately turned to him. He was still engrossed in the view of the city. “Like morning dew, fading with no trace,” he continued. “Even Namiwa's splendor shows life is a dream within a dream.”

You were curious as to what made Chiho able to paint such a vague expression on his face. “What are you talking about, Chiho?” you finally asked.

Chiho instantly turned to look at you. Ah, that look on his face again. Just like when he gazed at the cityscape, Chiho looked at you as if he was trying to memorize every single feature of your face and carve it to his mind.

The king could only smiled sweetly at you. “Toyotomi Hideyoshi’s poem on his deathbed,” Chiho answered. “It was such a good poem, I admit.”

Leaving, someone's poem on their deathbed, you challenge your brain to name something deeper and darker than that. What made Chiho think of such a thing? you may ask yourself.

“Why with the topic, King? You scared me,” you admit as you continue to tidy up his desk.

Chiho just chuckled lightly. "There's nothing to worry about, really. I'm just reciting a poem."

If only you knew that it would be a beautiful yet so painful spring.

∘◦ ✂ ————–✂ ◦∘

You woke up gasping for air, your chest heaving wildly. Your body was already drenched in cold sweat. You sat there, trying hard to dinf out whether it's a dream, an illusion, or reality.

Chiho will usually come straight to your room when he feels some negative aura around you, especially if the aura gets into your subconscious and creates nightmares.

From the very beginning, Chiho tried his best not to let the negative spirits get to you and him. But after all, which negative spirit dares to approach the wizard?

After calming down, you looked at every corner of your chamber. Dark and cold. But not too long after that, the anxiety crawled back to you when you notice a sparkling blue near your hand.

That's when you realized your hand was holding something. "Oh!" You were even more surprised when you raise your hand and see what you're holding.

Chiho's fan.

Why is that fan in your hand? You were pretty sure Chiho was a little sensitive with his belongings, especially with the things he always carried with him. Then how could this fan end up in your hands?

That was when you finally discover the red thread pattern of all the questions. The reason why Chiho was staring out the window more often these past few weeks, his gentle yet painful smiles, his gaze that was desperately trying so hard to remember everything, as well as someone's poem on their deathbed. Everything came to the light and it all makes senses to you now.

You instantly jumped out of your bed. Still in your nightgown, you rushed out of your chamber. You ran like a madman through every side and corner of his humble abode, trying to find him.

Anxiety surrounded your heart and fear clouded your mind. What did he say about the poem?

“I leave the way I came, like morning dew, fading with no trace.”

All your energy is wasted when you don't find even the bridge of the man's nose. The rest of your strength somehow could brings your feet running to one final room. You stopped as you entered a certain chamber, trying to catch your breath.

That's when you realized the atmosphere in the room. Silent, dark, and cold. You noticed the window of the room was wide open. The night spring breeze blew in freely.

Your gaze shifted to his desk. You approach the desk to find all the files and papers neatly arranged. And you also realized that Chiho had already completed all his tasks and work. When did he even finish all of this?

"Oh," you whispered when you found an envelope sealed with a blue butterfly stamp. On the front of the letter was written "To my dearest servant." You instantly opened the letter and read its contents.

To my dearest servant…

If you read this letter, then most likely, I’m no longer at your side. Are you crying while you read this? My servant who has always been so strong? That is truly my greatest worry.

I didn’t think miracles happened twice, let alone so frequently. But another miracle kept us and let us together. Who knew my revival would bring me to you and you to me? We faced many difficulties, but in the end, they made us stronger. I made it this far thanks to you.

I can’t imagine not being in love with you. That kind of life is no life for me. Even if I had my pick of all possible futures and pasts, I’d go right back to this one. Our love is eternal, uniting us across different times and more.

If crossing paths with me has caused your own life to stall, then my heart is filled with regret. Forgetting isn’t a sin, but I chose to remember every single moment we spent together for you. Always. And no matter how many years pass, my heart will remain one with yours.

If you see a crystal blue butterfly around you, please don’t be alarm. It’s just one of my many power that can fly to where I want it to fly, and can finally reach you.

And about my fan, I will leave it to your capable hand. I know that leaving something will only create a deeper wound. However, only with that can I still protect you when I'm not by your side. I want you to feel like I'm still there, protecting you from all the bad things.

If one day someone has the power to wind us back to each other, that fan will lead you back to me for sure. Until then, don’t be sick and be happy. I pray you continue to find the beauty and adventure in every day.

Forever yours, Han Chiho.

One and two tears began to fall and wet the letter you were holding. Your heart felt like it was stop beating, your body was planted to the ground. Where did Chiho go? That may be your question.

Still with tears in your eyes, your gaze was fixed on the fan you're holding. A blue butterfly-shaped accessory hang on the fan. Now if you remember it, it's not just any mere accessories. Chiho sealed a bit of his power in that accessories.

"So you still want to protect me even when you’re gone, Chiho?" You laughed bitterly, slightly choking on your sobs.

Right after that, the crystal accessory caught the first glint of the rising sun coming in through the window. There's countless hues in that one dawn sky. More were added to the colors, shifted to pale blue and yellow. It reminded you with Chiho's glorious golden eyes and the azure butterflies that fly around him.

"'Don't be sick and be happy,’ you said?" you questioned yourself. Your grip on the fan tightened and hugged it to your chest. Your jewel eyes stared out the window, at the sun that has just woken up with determination. “Only if you do the same, King.”

On the other side of time and world, a butterfly landed on the finger of a man who was none other than Chiho. He chuckled and sighed in relief. "I supposed I’m worried for nothing," he whispered to himself, light glinting from his glasses. Only after that, the man turned his back, completely leaving everything behind him for good.

Long after the sun rise, your favorite sun continued to shine in a different place. And you knew that this world, this timeline, with him, was the most beautiful and wonderful memories.

The stories don’t say if the king and his beloved servant ever met up again. But those who saw them living their own separated life now … All describe the two of them as live happily ever after, dreaming each other’s life, and living each other’s dream. ----- [FIN]

Azure Butterfly and It’s Memories A Fiction by Author Xandra April, 2022

#nijisanji #nijisanji kr #han chiho

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sarahjkl82-blog · 3 years

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Artistic Instinct Chapter Eight

Header thanks to the lovely @yespolkadotkitty

Summary: Marcus Pike and OC Anushka Pierce have been selected to work on a 5 eyes (Australia, Canada, NZ, the UK and US) intelligence team to track down art forgeries as a part of taking down an international white terrorism cell. Marcus is trying to escape his broken heart, Anushka is just trying to escape what the world expects of her.

Word count: 5,600

Warnings: Language as always, mentions of drinking, alcohol and drunkenness, mentions of sex OH AND HEARTBREAK

Pairing: Marcus Pike x reader (OC)

This comes with a MASSIVE THANK YOU to the lovely @yespolkadotkitty , who read, re-read, pointed out the constant flipping between tenses and gave me the confidence to try to write something. This is the first thing I have written since angsty poetry as a teenager. Apologies if it is shit!

The right person, the wrong time.

The right script, the wrong line.

The right poem, the wrong rhyme.

And a piece of you

That was never mine

K Towne Jr.

Chapter 8

The black topped streets of Lewisham radiate the day’s spring sunshine as if intent upon sending the heaven sent warmth back up through Marcus’ soles. The evening’s golden light creates a love song in his heart - one that morphs from the irritation and melancholy of the morning to a happier more uplifting tune.

When did that mood change? Oh yes, that embrace.

Nush.

Marcus hadn’t realised just how low his battery was for touch until you threw your arms around him. How much much he’d needed your body close to his again. Feeling your softness against him, inhaling your intoxicating scent. How he’d longed to kiss your forehead and stroke your hair in that cuddle. Remembering the pain of breaking that contact, plastering on a smile and kicking himself for it.

Constantly having to watch his need for your touch and tempering it within the normal parameters for a working relationship, Marcus has found himself reaching out for you- making excuses to touch you as you passed him, finding imaginary eyelashes on your face. Being around you felt like a breath that he was unable to release, continuously having to dampen down his natural instincts to hold and stroke you.

Kiss you.

Taste you.

Had he been back in the States, he would have said fuck it and asked you out, but that didn’t exactly go well last time. The pain of knowing exactly what he wants and it just being beyond the reach of his fingertips plagues Marcus daily with the dream of coming home to be loved, nurtured and protected and offer it in return. How do you ever allow yourself to become vulnerable to that risk of failure again? One thing he is certain of, is your current ignorance of the true level of his feelings. The kindness you show others - so much care for everyone around you, albeit through a thinly veiled layer of sarcasm and swearing- and the love your friends show for you, demonstrate that you would be nothing but clear if he was to reveal his true feelings.

Squeezing politely through the crowds, between the narrow shack-like stalls of the fairy-light illuminated market, Marcus heads towards the Highline where Andy had told each of you to meet him. Before he could start climbing the staircase up, a large hand grasps his upper arm, another patting the space between his shoulder blades. Marcus spins, slightly surprised by the touch, to be greeted by Andy’s grinning face.

“Looking good, Sir. Bit sharper than at lunch today,” Andy observes, giving Marcus’ leather jacket, Henley and indigo jeans a once over, “and before you complain, I am going to get you a beer because of the day you’ve had. You can do your management thing of buying the first round in a bit, and I won’t take no for an answer.”

With Andy’s face explicitly telling Marcus not to disagree with him, he nods, definitely needing that drink. As they head together towards the bar, they are both absorbed into the throng of a hundred voices holding loud conversations as they compete with the soundtrack from the decks. The crowd is a mixed bag of teenagers, students and families - the children chasing or trying to catch the sparkling spotlights as their parents reminisce over large gin and tonics about lie-ins and late nights not hunched over a crib.

Winding their way through the laughing and dancing bodies, they head in the direction of the alcohol to order some locally brewed ales, bumping into an already buzzing Kiritopa at almost the front of the queue. After a round of handshakes, back slaps and hearty laughs, they edge ever closer to their goal of amber nectar. Before their drinks are poured, Marcus’ eyes scan the market for the rest of the team when they are caught by a flash of colour. Bright turquoise stockings, a mustard corduroy pinafore, red and white striped T-shirt - oh, it isn’t you. Your wildly coloured legs bring so much colour to his day and they are the first thing he checks as he enters the office. Elbow nudges and a pint glass from Andy brings his attention back to the men in front of him for a quick cheers-ing of glasses before heading out of the melée.

The table on the Highline that Andy had reserved was utterly perfect. It afforded a bird’s eye view of the market - a true dream come true for any avid people watchers, whilst also allowing everyone to talk and be heard by each other with its one storey elevation from the thronging crowds. Andy and Kiritopa are animatedly talking with each other lounging amongst the piles of cushions and blankets on the pallet seating, while Marcus leans against the walkway, clutching his beer, staring off into the urban sprawl of concrete car parks and fried chicken restaurants but only looking for one face.

“Hey, what time do you call this...Whoa - Nush, is that makeup? On your face?” Andy’s eyes are utterly saucer-like in this discovery.

“Hush your mouth - she did it to me,” you jab your finger in Dian’s direction, pouting your lips at the indignation and as Andy goes to make another quip, you add- shoving some chips in his mouth, “Dirty masala fries- thought we’d need something to line our tummies this evening. Although equally, they’ll do a wonderful job of keeping some people’s mouths shut!”

“I think I did a great job- she looks stunning!” having put three portions on the table, Dian steps back to admire her handiwork as you pull a duck face pout at her.

She always looks beautiful.

“So, what’s on these fries?” Marcus asks as he desperately tries to avoid the other thoughts running through his head of how that pencil skirt runs along the curve that falls and rises from your waist to your hips beautifully or the horizontal stripes of your t-shirt - an outfit winning in its quest to distract.

As for that goddamn red lipstick…

It would leave a mark all around my-

“Ok, so they’re skinny French fries with spices shaken over them and a dollop of channa masala on top. Oh and that white shit is garlic mayo to dip them in,” you grin broadly as you pass him a portion - the picant vibrancy of the food telling stories of the fresh, bold flavours to come. Always being a believer in food being one of the ways that you can love a person, the mouthful of potatoes, spices and chickpeas envelops Marcus in an all encompassing hug. His belly sings with happiness with each mouthful he consumes, his tongue delightfully tingling from the chilli powder.

“Y’know Nush. Not had one of your curries for a while,” Andy not-so gently hints.

Marcus can’t help but raise his eyebrows, “Nush, you make curries? How many other hidden talents?”

“She also plays the piano and did ballet until she was fifteen,” Andy adds, ducking as you lob a cushion at him - your face reddened with a mixture of embarrassment and rage.

“Badly according to my mother,” you say, rolling your eyes as you shove another mouthful in, “Mine aren’t particularly elegant but they are edible. Well they are now anyway - there was one, a keema matar, that I made as a kid where I didn’t realise that chili develops over time. Put in roughly five tablespoons by the end. Could have been used for chemical warfare. Never lived it down but it got me out of cooking for a while.”

The table explodes in uproarious laughter, earning several odd looks from the patrons nearby.

“Well, I’m considering this an invitation to try one of your edible curries as you so eloquently call them,” Kiritopa rubs his belly in anticipation, chuckling at your modesty, “When can we get a date in the book?”

“I love a good curry, so count me in,” Dian chimes in as she pops the chickpeas like sweets into her mouth.

Marcus watches you shift uncomfortably in the spotlight of demands from your co-workers, “If I do this, I need a bigger space to work in as I can’t fit you all in my flat. I’ll need to borrow somewhere that can fit more bums.”

“Could use my apartment to cook and host, if you like?” Marcus proffers, secretly hopeful at trying some of your dishes and perhaps more than a little excited at the thought of spending some one on one time with you.

“Shall we do Sunday evening, if nothing turns up from work?” Kiritopa asks hopefully.

Marcus shrugs by way of confirmation, catching your gaze, drinking in the swirl of colours in your iris, to give you a nod.

With a sigh and a roll of the eyes, you exclaim, “Andy- what the fuck have you started? You’ve all grossly overestimated my skills, and now I am going in search of alcohol to dull my senses and make poor decisions,” you dramatically announce with a theatrical bow, “What can I get everyone?”

Seeing an opportunity open up, Marcus touches your arm as you go to leave, “It’s my round. Help me carry them?”

“Deal,” Marcus feels his heart grow as he sees your smile reach every corner of your face.

Before reaching the top of the stairs, Marcus moves himself around to walk in front of you. His body on an autopilot of manners. On reaching the bottom step, he reaches back - unthinkingly - to grab your hand so as not to lose you amongst the multitude drinking, eating and dancing the night away. The momentary panic that spread at the thought of you rejecting him recedes as your fingers thread between his.

Sending a warm smile at you over his shoulder, you follow in the wake of him quietly.

The people near the bar are flowing like rivers, never stopping for obstacles but twirling, swirling around them nevertheless Marcus guides you through, never letting go. The noise of the chatter and throb of the music surrounds you, not allowing for much verbal communication so he settles for small movements and gestures with the hand that is holding yours. When you finally arrive at the queue by the bar, that is when you can speak a bit more freely albeit in theatrical whispers in each other’s ears.

Marcus watches how the evening breeze kisses you, blowing the strands of your growing-out fringe into your face. How you gaze around and observe people whilst also managing to make him feel like he’s the only person there. The way your eyes crease into crescents when you laugh or smile and how much he wishes he could thank all those people jostling you into him. But like all moments with you, it ends too quickly as soon you’re both heading upriver against the current with your trays of drinks.

“Nush, I’ve always thought it was some kind of miracle that you never spill alcohol,” Andy teases you as you bring the drinks to their owners.

“Hah! I don’t waste the good stuff,” you mutter indignantly, “Although perhaps if we want to protect the office carpets, I should…”

“No,” Marcus mock-sternly interjects at the thought of you being drunk and the chaos that would bring, “No day drinking at work, Nush. I’d prefer the coffee stains.”

Your pout and subsequent upward glance through your eyelashes, makes Marcus turn towards the railings, hiding his thoughts in his beer.

Fuck, Nush.

If you only knew what you do to me.

“Hey Kiri, isn’t it? You playing in the tourney tomorrow?” a deep, cut glass accent calls out, cutting through the crowds surrounding them. Marcus turns towards where the sound is coming from and as he does, he catches a strange look cross your face.

“What the fuck are you doing here and how the fuck do you know Kiritopa?” The tone of your voice, narrowed eyes and furrowed brow makes Marcus turn back towards the group inquisitively.

“Nush! Haven’t seen you in a long time but you are looking amazing,” the voice is attached to a face, the kind that would stop anyone in their tracks, “can barely recognise you with makeup on- you should wear it more often.”

You breathlessly mutter, “Fuck off, that’s never going to happen.”

Good girl. Don’t put up with that BS. You’re better than that.

“I know Seb through rugby training,” then tilting his head quizzically, Kiritopa asks, “How do you know him?”

“Since school isn’t it, so what? Roughly twenty years? Through her brother, Adam as we played rugger together. Although, despite such a long time friendship, you wouldn’t let me in your knickers until more recently,” Seb shoots you a wink from over his beer.

The words burn through Marcus as he considers your connection with this man - his eyes narrowing, lips thinning. Loneliness echoing through his racing heart. He hadn’t considered you seeing anyone else- even for the briefest of dalliances but then not everyone is a serial long term monogamist.

Of course you’d have needs, you are an adult woman.

I just wish you’d explore them with me.

“Every now and then it’s nice to have an orgasm attached to a pulse that isn’t delivered by a battery,” you deliver, utterly deadpan.

Seb pretends to be mortally wounded by your words, playing dead into the chair next to yours, languidly flopping his limbs around. Oh, how Marcus would like to wipe that stupid smug smirk off his face!

For fuck’s sake, Pike. Why didn’t you sit next to her when you had the chance?

White knuckles wrapped around his nearly empty pint glass, Marcus silently watches as Seb desperately works to get your attention whilst you chat animatedly with Dian and Andy while Kiri downs the rest of his beer. He hasn’t noticed the pretty young woman with bouncing corkscrew curls observing him from amongst her friends on the next table along.

“Hey. You look like you could do with a drink, can I get you one?”

Abruptly removed from his poorly concealed glowering, Marcus raises his eyebrows in surprise at this question, pausing for some time before realising that it was aimed at him.

“Oh, look don’t worry. It was just a silly thought...” the beautifully tight curls go to withdraw from view and return to their friends.

“No, I’m sorry. I was lost in thought,” Marcus offers apologetically, “It’s been a day from hell. Let me get you a drink.”

“Wanted to talk to you as I was a bit concerned that you were about to break that glass with how tightly you were gripping it. Glass is an arse to get out of wounds so thought it better to save your hands before you come visit me in A&E,” she gently proposes, “There are better places to spend Friday nights!”

Welcoming the pretty distraction from his destructive thoughts, Marcus’ cheeks dimple as he nods, “I can imagine. Are you a doctor?”

“Yeah, for my sins,” she amusedly huffs, “And on a rare night out, so shall we go get that drink? I’m Kemi, by the way.”

✪✪✪✪✪

Oh, how you long to rip the makeup from your face! As a child, it had been a form of let’s pretend that turned into a mask to hide behind as a young adult as you experimented with finding your true self. Now, that you are established in your womanhood, you feel no need to add layers to your face other than when you are convinced it would be fun by a fast-becoming firm friend.

When Sebastian made a remark about how pretty you looked with the makeup, it made you want to run to the loo right then and there to claw it from your skin.

And what the ever loving fuck is he doing here? Fucking Sebastian of all fucking people, who you accidentally keep finding yourself fucking. You’d just come around to the idea that it might be ok to occasionally go out with people from work but when they meet people from your everyday life - your home life - that isn’t ok. Especially when that person is just a hate fuck. Great in bed but an odious human being as you can’t be that handsome and a decent person, it seems.

Unless you’re Marcus Fucking Pike.

Who is now grabbing a drink with an absolute goddess of a woman.

You couldn’t quite pinpoint why it had hurt so much when he’d walked off with her but there was such an ache deep in your tummy that could not be ignored. Between that and the appearance of fucking Sebastian, you just want to jump on the 178 home and throw on your jammies, curling up under the shit crocheted throw that you’d made during your leave - more holes than stitches. If it wasn’t for Dian, you would already be on your way there, demolishing something unhealthy from UberEats, glugging a wine or two.

Dian seems to pick up on your drop in mood and decides that it’s time for a trip to the tequila bar. With Andy’s husband now joining your rag-tag gang, you agree to chase some bitter hits of alcohol. As you wind your way among the dancers and drinkers, you see him standing by one of the upturned kegs, laughing at something she has said. You catch his eye, plaster on a smile and send him a wink in the hope that your wish for him to have fun seems genuine.

You sign to him whether he wants a drink but a small shake of his head tells you all you need to know before Dian tugs your hand back in the direction of the bar. Standing in front of the bartender, a moment of sadness washes over you until Kiri passes the salt, Seb licks your hand and the rest of the evening finally takes a softer tone after one, two, three.

The tequila in your tummy makes it hard to concentrate on what Dian and Kiri are chatting about while the three of you curl tipsily upon the comfy cushions as a large fluorescent pink, plastic sign declaring TREAT YO’SELF looms large over your heads. Excusing yourself to the loo, you walk past Marcus - steadfastly refusing any eye contact but ensuring he sees you. As you go to repeat the action on the return journey - not entirely sure as to why you feel the need to seek your boss’s attention - a hand goes to balance you as you walk down the final step.

“Whoa - steady, Nush,” you look up to see Marcus’ concerned face looking down at you.

“Hah! I’m ok. You having a good night?” You ask, your eyes searching his, “She’s truly stunning.”

“Yeah, um, were you guys doing shots?” he enquires, brow still furrowed.

“Yup. It's a really good tequila bar upstairs - should have joined us,” you jab him in the chest with an index finger, “So good that the world just looks like an impressionist painting. All swooshy and a little bit blurry.”

You watch Marcus scratching his neck, “Anyway, what on Earth are you doing here with me? Go get her, idiot.”

“Ah, here you are Bad Idea Puppy- thought you’d fallen asleep on the loo. Although that wouldn’t be the first time would it?” Sebastian brays, stepping between you and Marcus as he grabs your hand to lead you onto the dancefloor. Allowing yourself to be led away, you look back over your shoulder at him, mouthing go get her with a wink as if that would soften the pain that had appeared with her.

The music flows through you - the clearest way to communicate you have ever known- your body rolling and swaying with the sensuality of the music. Sebastian moves effortlessly around you thanks to his mother, who having had only sons, deciding that her youngest would get the dance lessons that she’d hoped the daughter she never had, would take. The two of you vent in movements all of what you could never be said between you or to anyone else aloud. As you twist together under the orange stained hazy night sky, you notice the goddess’ hand on Marcus’ face, stroking his cheek. The poisonous ache returns to your tummy and however your face contorts, causes Seb to pull you closer, cradling your head into his neck. You know how the night will end and the loneliness stings.

✪✪✪✪✪

His mouth bone dry, Marcus awakes fully dressed, on top of the comforter, with a cool bed surrounding him. Reaching for his phone, pulling the charging cable from it, he flicks through messages and emails trying to work out what had happened from when Kemi had left him in the bar to rejoin her friends. Her words still ring in his ears - you didn’t come alone tonight - when she had watched his eyes trace your path out of the market. How he’d initially thought about taking her up on her offer to help him forget, wanting to obliterate last night from his memory and lose himself in her eyes and lips. Her final words to him, cutting him to the core- she must be really special and if she is as special as you think she is, you fight for her.

Bloodshot eyes and deep creases stare back at him from the mirror. More grey. They say that age exchanges beauty for wisdom but they are the same mistakes he keeps repeating. A strangled gasp escapes him as he tries to regulate his breathing, lifting his chin trying to fill his lungs with more oxygen. His shoulders are racked by gut-wrenching sobs and like an overwhelmed dam, the tears spill in hot torrents down his cheeks. Marcus slides onto the floor, allowing the grief to pour forth.

His first marriage was too much, too soon, too young. An art historian and an artist in love with creating and observing beauty until the former decided to change tack after being recruited by the FBI. The long hours of training at Quantico, the subsequent hard days and irregular nights as he worked his way through the ranks of the Art Crime department, wrung the patience from his wife. Gradually growing further and further apart until all that was left were two strangers constantly at odds, her cutting comment about how she felt that he gave her only apathy - never coming to her when she needed help or affection. She hated him for the choices he made - feeling that his work was merely interacting with the meaningless. The law enforcer spent more time at work to hide from the inevitable ending until the artist found someone who appreciated her and the beauty she created.

As for Lisbon. Was she really ever his? Wasn’t he really just a footnote in the Patrick Jane story? The whirlwind romance that progressed and extinguished again at such a heart attack inducing pace, emphasised by that stupid-ass move to DC. Although, if it wasn’t for that move, he wouldn’t be here in London now. Oh yeah. That was out of the skillet and into the fire, Pike. Another excellent career move.

So much love to give and nowhere, no one to give it to. The lessons he has learnt and is still learning but oh, just to find that person with whom you can drop that mask and enjoy togetherness, warmth and serenity.

The side of the bath offers a solid cool support to Marcus as he sits there on the herringbone tiled floor, sobbing into his arms. There is only one voice he needs to hear right now. Grabbing a tissue from the side to noisily blow his nose into, he rubs the heels of his palms into his eyes before putting his glasses on. Phone in hand, he dials the number he knows better than his own name.

The familiar dial tone is like a lullaby in his ear, “Mamá?... Hey! How are you doing?... I’m sorry Mamá - I forgot about the time zone difference... I’m ok, just missing you… It’s just been a long week and... Yeah, London is awesome and I managed a trip to France this week which was incredible to be back there. So weird having so many different countries within such easy reach…Come visit me soon?... Thank you... I miss you… Te quiero mucho Mamá… I’ll ring you in a couple of days. Hasta luego.”

Hanging up, everything feels a bit more manageable and less painful- I wish I could bottle my Mamá’s voice. Hauling himself off the bathroom floor, he turns on the faucet to splash icy water on his face. Sniffing his t-shirt, realising the shower could wait - perhaps a good run to get the endorphins pumping would be his best move. Or perhaps a text to Nush to check what ingredients he’d need to have in for the curry tomorrow?

Stop it, Pike. You’re just fucking torturing yourself.

Opening a drawer, he pulls out basketball shorts, a clean t-shirt and a pair of sneaker socks to throw on, discarding last night’s clothes in a heap by the washing machine.

AirPods in and classic nineties dance anthems to pace himself to, he gives his quads and hamstrings a quick warm up by the front door before it is time to convert the emotional pain into miles.

One of the many things that Marcus loves about London is the constant greenery with every second corner a park or stretching heathland. Texas is so proud of its big sky country status and yet, there are parts of central London where you could lie down and not see anything but skies around you. It is truly hard not to fall in love with such a beautiful, historical and spacious city.

Pounding the pavements towards the park, his feet hit the concrete slabs softly, sending small shockwaves to his brain. Whilst Marcus knows that the power in his thighs could have him across the park in seconds, he savours each step. The precision in his movements is perfect as he takes lungful after lungful of the sunshine filled air. It feels like part of a meditation - a mindful prayer. Dodging around errant dogs and small, clumsy yet terrifyingly aggressive children on scooters, he winds his way through the avenues of trees until he comes across a small lake.

He pauses the thrumming music in his ears to just soak up the tranquility of the moment as he stretches out his limbs. The lake is the kindest of nature’s mirrors, never truly showing exactly what is above, but converting it to an image so beautifully smudgy. The weeping willow stroking its branches elegantly across the skin of the water, the clouds gliding silently above as a host of waterfowl paddle effortlessly through the cool, clear pool, all become a priceless Monet hanging in The National Gallery – all free for the looking. Sure, it is transient, changing by the day - unlike the fixed in a moment of time pieces by the grumpy old Frenchman - but that's what makes it all the more precious.

There’s a family by the water’s edge. Marcus can’t help but be amused by the toddler’s antics as they threaten to jump in and become irritated that they can’t, especially when they have their wellies on. Can’t fault that logic! The older child is gathering sticks to make a “campfire” with their dad - discarding most of their parent’s choices with withering looks and expressive rolls of the eyes. The dark-haired mom, whilst trying to reason with the toddler, is swaying with some sort of baby carrier tied around her - a tiny one clutched tightly to her chest. The infant is virtually invisible from the passes of material, only two tiny socks and its little woolly hat peeking free. A collie is also darting between and around them, rounding up his flock of sheep, taking his role as protector very seriously.

The scene makes Marcus smile as he stretches out his muscles. Whilst he can’t help but watch and yearn for something similar in his life, the mom looks up and over in his direction,

“Are you going to come over and say hi or just be a park weirdo that lurks in bushes pretending to stretch?” a familiar voice curtly teases.

Nush - what the fuck?

“Your face is a fucking picture! Take a breath - these are three of my five niblings - big one is Sophia, middle one that keeps threatening to swim in the pond is Alexa and this little dot is Oscar. As for that blundering idiot, this is Adam, my oldest brother- their dad,” gesturing towards your brother you giggle, creasing up in laughter at the sheer shock then relief on Marcus’ face, “Ads, this is Marcus, my new boss that I told you about.”

The male version of Nush outstretched his palm, offering a sympathetic look, “Hi Marcus, pleasure to put a face to a name. I’m so sorry that you have to put up with my cowbag-of-a-sister at work.”

Marcus can’t help but laugh at the friendly sniping between brother and sister, reminding him of his own teasing relationship with his sisters back home, “Hey! Your kids are beautiful. Oh, you must be Sebastian’s friend - who we saw at Model Market in Lewisham yesterday, Nush?” he questions.

“As much as Sebastian can have friends… Oh Nush, you didn’t, did you?” Adam’s face scrunches in disgust and judging in the way that only a sibling can do.

“No! Not this time,” Marcus loves the speed and vehemence to which you respond to your brother- and enjoys the sheer relief that is now guiltily coursing through his veins, “To give the man his dues, he won’t ever sleep with me when I’ve had too much to drink. Not that I was going to and not that it is any of your fucking business in the first place.” You add jabbing your brother in the softness of his tummy with every word you say.

“Nush, I was gonna text you this morning about tomorrow, if you’re still on to make the curries?” Marcus gently questions, willing you to agree.

“Hah! You’re trusting her to cook?” Adam laughs heartily at the suggestion, “I’m not sure that’s the best idea. Our mum still won’t let her near the chilli powder now.”

You growl at your brother, “I was a fucking kid at the time! And yes, I am more than happy to come and cook curries- what time suits you for me to come over? They do take a bit of time to make.”

Marcus struggles to hold back a snort of laughter, “Any time is good - and perhaps while they’re simmering, we can have some classic films on in the background?”

“Ah that sounds perfect,” your smile warming every inch of his skin.

“You sound perfect for her,” Marcus catches Adam muttering under his breath, his eyes widening at your brother’s comment.

“Shut your damn cakehole, twatface,” you slap your brother’s arm hard as you grind the words between your teeth, the two of you glaring with a mirror image of your eyebrows raised at each other.

“Um, I’d better continue my run before I cool down too much,” Marcus manages to spit out between the flushes of heat through his skin, “Great to meet you and your family, Adam. Nush, it’s lovely to see you and I’ll catch you tomorrow?”

“See you tomorrow, Marcus,” you smile at him before turning back towards your niblings, who are working together to create a den using an old fallen branch.

“I saw you running earlier,” Adam adds, “You’ve got a really good gait - as a physio, it’s great to see someone not destroying their joints. Do you do anything to support your running through cross training?”

“Uh no, but that’s a good idea as I don’t want any injuries. What would you recommend?” Marcus asks, genuinely intrigued and flattered by your brother’s compliment of his running style.

“Speak to Nush - yoga is perfect for stretching your IT bands, which as a man they’re generally always tight and only get tighter with repetitive movements like running or cycling. She’s the yoga queen and will know of a local teacher who can help you,” Adam grins, nodding towards his sister.

“There’s so much I have yet to learn about her,” Marcus shakes his head as he sorts out his headphones.

“Yeah, good luck with that!” Adam laughs as he pats Marcus on the back, “Anyway, enjoy the rest of your run and hopefully see you again soon.”

As Marcus gradually picks up his pace away from you and your family, his heart that had felt so dark and lonely, now feels light and airy. The release valve in his chest is finally loosened and there is a little bubble of excitement in his belly that he allows to build at the thought of tomorrow. The thought of your presence in his apartment, doing something as domestic as cooking, is truly a salve for his soul.

Perhaps he can just make believe until it becomes a reality.

Tag list of glory: @astroboots @silverwolf319@sirowsky @leonieb @disgruntledspacedad @bison-writes @the-ginger-hedge-witch @danniburgh @sugarontherims @green-socks @tardisfangurl @absurdthirst @pedropascalito @mouthymandalorian @mrsparknuts @lunaserenade @zukoyonce @agirllovespancakes @yespolkadotkitty @theravenreads @lv7867 @songsformonkeys

#josé pedro balmaceda pascal #pedro pascal #jose pedro balmaceda pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #ppascaledit #pedro pascal#pedro pascal x reader #marcus pike x reader #marcus pike #the mentalist #marcus pike x oc #marcus pike x oc reader #the mentalist fanfic

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lorlorlorlorlor-blog · 3 years

Text

Asian dramas and movies

A list of the dramas, movies and shows that I have watched.

Hanazakari no Kimitachi e

Hanazakari no Kimitachi e SP

Hanamizuki

One Litre of Tears

One Litre of Tears movie

Tantei Gakuen Q live action

Detective Conan live action movie 1

Detective Conan live action movie 2

Detective Conan live action movie 3

Great Detective Conan: Challenge To Shinichi Kudo

I Love My Younger Sister live action

Yamato Nadeshiko Shichi Henge

Gokusen

Gokusen 2

Gokusen 3

Gokusen movie

Death Note

Death Note 2: The Last Name

Death Note 3: L Change The World

14 Sai no Haha

Koukou Debut

Kurosagi

Nodame Cantabile live action

Nodame Cantabile SP

Lovely Complex live action

Hana Yori Dango

Hana Yori Dango 2

Kimi ni Todoke live action

I Give My First Love To You

Koizora

Atashinchi no Danshi

Ju On

Ju On 2

Ju On 3

Prince of Tennis live action

Ikemen Desu Ne

Ouran High School Host Club live action series

Ouran High School Host Club live action movie

Paradise Kiss

Zenkai Girl

Nobuta wo Produce

Akihabara@Deep

Bloody Monday

Bloody Monday 2

Honey and Clover

Kimi wa Petto

Propose Kyoudai

Pink no Idenshi

Stand Up!

Yukan Club (not yet done)

Ring 1

Ring 2

Ring 3

Ring 0

Zatoichi

Spring Story

Buzzer Beat

The Victim

Crazy Little Thing Called Love

Friendship

Brown Sugar Macchiato

Bull Fighting

Devil Beside You

Why, Why Love

Hi My Sweetheart

Fated To Love You

Hot Shot

Corner With Love/Love At The Corner

Meteor Garden

Meteor Garden 2

Meteor Rain

My MVP Valentine

Frog Prince

Silence

Love Storm

Dolphin Bay

Lavender

Full House

Dream High

Shining Inheritance

Heartstrings/You’ve Fallen For Me

Secret Garden

Playful Kiss

Love of The Condor Heroes

All About Eve

Irene

Attic Cat

Endless Love 1: Autumn In My Heart

Endless Love 2: Winter Sonata

Endless Love 3: Summer Scent

Coffee Prince

Jang Geum

Dal Ja’s Spring

My Sassy Girl, Choon-Hyang

Love Truly/Really Really Like You

Stairway To Heaven

My Name Is Kim Sam Soon

Love Story In Harvard

Attack On The Pin-Up Boys

Temptation of Wife

200 Pounds Beauty

100 Days With Mr. Arrogant

Jenny and Juno

Virgin Snow

Windstruck

Flower Boy Ramyun Shop

Jewel In The Palace

Robot

Three Idiots

Shutter

Ruk Man Yai Mak (Love Julinsee - Love at 4 Size)

Suck Seed

Yes or No

Hormones: The Confusing Teens

Seasons Change

Sunny

You Are My Pet

The Girl Who Leapt Through Time live action

Samurai High School

City Hunter

IRIS

Dream High 2

Shut Up Flower Boy Band

Blind

Skip Beat

Spellbound/Chilling Romance

Bokura ga Ita: Zenpen

Bokura ga Ita: Kouhen

To The Beautiful You

Panda and Hedgehog

You’re Beautiful

Mirai Nikki Live Action

A Gentleman’s Dignity

Phobia/4bia

Rich Man, Poor Woman

Turn Left, Turn Right

5 Prang

Seducing Mr. Perfect

A Good Day To Have An Affair

Sad Movie

Ghajini

Reply 1997

Rurouni Kenshin

Rooftop Prince

My Little Bride

Code Blue Season 1

Risou no Musuko

ATM Error

IRIS 2

Himitsu no Akko-chan

School 2013

The Naked Kitchen

Hana Kimi Remake

Jackal Is Coming

Love On That Day

Level 7/7th Grade Civil Servant

Last Cinderella

Kyou, Koi wo Hajimemashite

Pee Mak Phra Kanong

Yamada-kun to Nananin no Majo

Just One Second

Summer Nude

Reply 1994

Queen In Hyun’s Man

The Heirs

Marry Him If You Dare

Emergency Couple

Rough Play

No Breathing

The Commitment

Angel Eyes

It’s Okay, That’s Love

Birth of A Beauty

Fall In Love With Me

Master’s Sun

The Three Musketeers

The Pirates

Blue Spring Ride

You Are The Apple Of My Eye

Kyoto Inferno

The Legend Ends

Pinocchio

Ex-Girlfriend’s Club

School 2015

School 2017

While You Were Sleeping

My Secret Romance

Love O2O

Because This Is My First Life

Fight For My Way

Second Love

Baby and Me

The Outlaws

Midnight Runners

Bad Genius

Your Lie In April

Haruta and Chika

Reply 1988

Descendants of The Sun

Let’s Fight Ghost

Confession of Murder

Tokyo Ghoul live action

Code Blue 2

Code Blue 3

Along With The Gods: The Two Worlds

Along With The Gods: Last 49 Days

Radio Romance

Hormones 2

Hormones: The Final Season

A Love So Beautiful

Ajin: Demi-human

Crash Landing On You

What’s Wrong With Secretary Kim

Extreme Job

Parasite

Kingdom Season 1

Kingdom Season 2

Doctor Romantic Season 1

Goblin

Touch Your Heart

Her Private Life

Weightlifting Fairy Kim Bok Joo

Strong Girl Do Bong-soon

Love Alarm

My First First Love

I Am Not A Robot

My ID Is Gangnam Beauty

The Girl Who Sees Scent

Hotel Del Luna

Remember

U-Prince Series

A Korean Odyssey

The Package

Doctor Romantic 2

The Prince of Tennis 2019

Start-Up

Ordinary People

Itaewon Class

Hi Bye, Mama!

The Divine Fury

Back To The 90s

The Dude In Me

Put Your Head On My Shoulder

The K2

Hyde, Jekyll, Me

She Was Pretty

He Is Psychometric

Sky Castle

My Annoying Brother

Scarlet Heart: Ryeo

Find Yourself

Good Morning Call

Love In The Moonlight

Hospital Playlist

Kkondae Intern

The World Of The Married

Sotus

Was It Love?

It’s Okay Not To Be Okay

Who Are You 2020

Love Lasts Forever

Empress Ki

The Uncanny Counter

Run On

True Beauty

Sweet Home

Lovestruck In The City

A Love So Beautiful (2020)

18 Again

The Con-Heartist

My God!! Father

Space Sweepers

On Your Wedding Day

The Yin-Yang Master: Dream of Eternity

L <3 DK

How To Be Thirty

Seobok

Forgotten

Vincenzo

Confidential Assignment

Mr. Queen

Hometown Chachacha

Hospital Playlist 2

D.P.

Squid Game

Police University

Kingdom: Ashin of the North

Cheer Up, Mr. Lee

Sweet and Sour

Death Note: Light Up The New World

Orange

Prison Playbook

Oh My Ladylord

Law School

Sell Your Haunted House

Alice in Borderland

Still 2gether

Move to Heaven

My Name

Our Beloved Summer

The Door Into Summer

Bad and Crazy

AI Love You

Love and Leashes

Thirty-Nine

Twenty Five, Twenty One

Forecasting Love and Weather

Juvenile Justice

Business Proposal

My Father is Strange

#asian #korean #chinese #taiwanese #japanese #thai #drama #movie

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breezeinmonochromenight · 4 years

Note

You have to wonder if Sephiroth just gets so annoyed with Zack that he just starts assigning Cloud to missions with Roche or Kunsel or someone instead. Just to be petty. XD

[concluding a meeting of Firsts]

Sephiroth: I would like to spar this afternoon, so—

Zack: [absentmindedly doodling in the side margins of his notes with his pen, dopey smile on his face] So...

Sephiroth: [knows what this is most likely about, but is still v. salty he had to cover for Zack and fight a giant tentacle monster while Zack was on a ‘mission’ to the Gold Saucer] ...so if there are no other objections to this schedule, then... [cuts eyes at Genesis, who sticks his tongue out in response]

Zack: [sketching what looks suspiciously like a person with a chocobo-shaped head of hair and himself sitting in a hot spring together] Aren’t you forgetting something?

[Genesis groans and slumps in his seat, Angeal stifles a sigh and mumbles something that sounds like ‘here we go again’]

Sephiroth: I do not forget assignments, Zackary.

Zack: [mildly annoyed, but too content with doodling misshapen hearts around his drawing to care] Fiiineee. Aren’t you forgetting someone~~? For my mission to the hot sp— [pauses] I mean, Mideel~~~? [practically bats his eyelashes as Angeal pinches the bridge of his nose.]

Sephiroth: [already deeply regretting taking Gen’s advice about petty revenge being satisfying — he feels a splitting headache coming on] You have a simple monster clearing mission on the outskirts of Mideel, First Class Fair. You have no need for extra personnel to accompany you other than Second Class Luxiere.

Zack: [Kermit face]

Zack: Where’s Cloud then.

Sephiroth, maker of grave errors: Cadet Strife has been assigned to accompany Third Class Roche for the week.

[Genesis’ eyebrows are almost lost to his hairline, before he realizes what is going on. When he does, he starts practically radiating evil glee. Angeal, in contrast, looks like he is rapidly aging in his seat as the light dies in his eyes.]

Zack: [pen immediately snaps in two] I’m sorry

W h a t. (:

Sephiroth: ...

Zack: [deadly calm] Wanna run that by me again, Sir? (:

Sephiroth: [actually a little unnerved at Zack’s personality switch, ngl] He is... interested... in obtaining a driving permit for a bike. SOLDIER Roche is the ideal candidate to teach him how.

Zack: [slight eye twitch, voice tight] Makes sense. (:

Sephiroth: [acutely aware that he is in damage control mode now] In case you don’t know, Third Class Roche is—

Zack: [legit seething, cutting him off] We’ve met. (:

Zack: [abruptly stands up to leave] If that’s all, then I will excuse myself. (: I think I left my stove on. (: Silly me. (: Ha ha. (:

Sephiroth: [awkwardly glances between Genesis and Angeal for answers after the door shuts again]

Genesis: [claps hands together, thoroughly entertained] Well! That was oddly terrifying.

Genesis: Is he always like this about that one cadet, Hewley?

Angeal: Absolutely not.

[contemplative pause]

Angeal: He’s worse.

—Bonus—

Zack, on the way to back to his apartment: This is fine. (: It’s totally fine. (:

Zack’s brain: You think Cloud will hold on to Roche’s shoulders or around his waist?

Zack, the second his apartment door closes: It’s not fine. (:

678 notes · View notes

gerbiloftriumph · 3 years

Photo

The Silence Between Snowflakes

(also on ao3)

His name was Gwydion--but that wasn't his name. He lived in Llewdor--but that wasn't his home.

Alexander escapes Manannan's grasp and flees to Daventry, hoping he might find a place that he might call home after years of loss and loneliness. While Daventry embraces him, loves him, shows him all the stories it has within it, the country is also suffering under the worst winter in memory. But it might not just be a hard season: there might be something out there, something chasing the lost prince. Something malevolent, intent on destroying the kingdom snowflake by snowflake, spreading a curse across the lands and infecting its king.

(Or: I don't like how King's Quest 2015's Chapter 4 played out, so I've rewritten the whole thing to fit my headcanons and character desires.)

~*~*~

1/8

(1: Found Family)

~*~*~

Gwendolyn was smiling when she walked into his room, but Graham, after decades of being king, could tell when someone’s expression was false. It wasn’t especially hard in this case. He could see tears glittering in the corners of her eyes. She kept up the brave face right until the point when he spoke his first words to her that day: “Do you want to talk about it?”

She froze, one foot in the air. “Talk about...?” she said, with forced nonchalance.

“Whatever you like. But I think you have something specific on your mind.”

And that was all it took for her carefully drawn face to crumple.

“I just don’t get it. Everything seems to make Gart mad these days,” she said, sinking into the chair by the bed. “I can’t seem to do anything right. He keeps yelling at me.”

“Oh, is that what I heard this morning?” Graham tried to get her to smile with him, but she was looking away, twisting the strings of her hood through her fingers like a little net. “Sweetling, can you tell me what he’s yelling about?”

“I don’t wanna say,” she said, her face buried in her knees now as she drew herself up into a ball on the chair. Her voice was muffled. She looked like she was shrinking into herself, like she didn’t want to take up any space at all, like she wanted to hide. She looked so much like Alexander in that moment that Graham felt his breath catch: he could so easily see his son curled up in a corner of the ice cell, shivering and wanting to disappear, certain that he had led the kingdom to destruction just by existing.

"Here, now. Have I ever told you a story about your father?”

~*~*~*~

It was snowing both outside and inside Daventry castle.

Outside: that was perfectly normal. It was the end of the year, the lazy autumn finally reaching its end and the snows starting to build up. This was the first proper, heavy storm. Flakes pelted the windows, which were shuttered against the cold. Colorful tapestries had been drawn over the frames, darkening the corridors but keeping the place relatively cozy and comfortable despite the bone deep cold ache seeping out of the exterior stone walls. Wind whistled through the high crenellations, furiously whipping the flakes high against the towers before letting them fall gracefully into heaps that the royal guards would have to shovel out of the way later.

Inside: well, after eighteen years, that was kind of normal, too. Paperwork snowed up in its own sorts of drifts, covering the floor and audience chairs in the throne room. Paperwork that Graham had been ignoring.

He’d been doing okay. Eighteen years was a long time. Or, at least, so he told himself. The hole that Manannan had left when he’d ripped Alexander from his cradle eighteen years ago, stolen the prince of Daventry, leaving the taste of a broken lullaby on Graham’s lips—that hole never filled, but sometimes it was easier to ignore. If he didn’t think about it. And Graham had Rosella to take care of, his beautiful clever daughter, and Valanice to take care of him, his wise, confident wife, and he in turn cared for her, and for his country, to help the land and the people on it grow, tending to it just as the farmers tended the fields. Daventry needed him to be strong.

And he was strong. Mostly.

But, at the end of the year, when the seasons ticked over and the date changed with a finality and a clang...it all came rushing back. The sharp loss. The searches. The failures. Again and again, the failures. Eighteen years come and gone and nothing to show for them. The wizard had just vanished from the earth with his captive as far as the royal family could tell.

Somehow, at the end of every year, Graham’s arms felt weak, and his head ached, and his heart hurt. Even though Valanice understood, even though she held him close and they wept together for what they had lost, around them the demands of the kingdom kept endlessly pressing. After eighteen years, they had to finally accept that Alexander would never come home.

Rosella, his dear sweet princess daughter, carried them through the winter seasons. She learned closely from her tutors, always asking why the kingdom was doing something one way and not doing something another way. She had suitors to meet, plans to make. She, more than the council, more than the guards, more than anyone, seemed to keep Daventry on track when the year ended and the next year (the next year of failure) began. When Graham felt at a loss, overwhelmed (how could he lead a country when he couldn’t even protect his family), Rosella picked up some of the loss.

She had started attending council meetings too young. At first, it had been cute, even a little funny, to see her golden hair bobbing at the table. She had carried a stack of heavy addenda books to her chair herself so that she could sit on top of them and stare imperiously over the councilors. Graham hadn’t the heart to tell her to leave, and she made her attendance a habit. She started figuring processes out, and over the years she started to offer tolerable ideas, and then impressive ones. Sitting at council so young, so fanciful and creative, she was able to twist policy with fantasy with abandon. Without the careful thought that adults had to put into every sentence. It gave her wild confidence. Planted ideas in her head that Graham was mildly sure weren’t exactly princess-like.

But after all, the Cracker family was new to royalty. Who was to say what a Cracker Princess should be?

It wasn’t fair, perhaps, like it was taking away part of her childhood. But Rosella was determined to do what she wanted, and what she wanted was to be a part of Daventry in every single way like her father. Ruling and adventuring in almost the same breath. She went to council, and then she went tree climbing. And then she came to council the next day with her arm in a sling after daring to climb too high. Royal Guard Number One despaired, unable to keep her in check.

But this year was different. She would be turning eighteen soon. Eighteen was an important age. Eighteen was the age Graham had joined the royal knighthood of Daventry, found his path, changed his future.

Eighteen.

She was distracted, and understandably. She was going for walks more and more often out in the tangled forest paths. Sometimes the family came with her, especially in the springtime when the new year’s fear wore away and fresh life started poking out from the cold dirt. Although, her birthday (her twin Alexander’s birthday) was in the spring, and that brought its own pain.

She was probably on a walk somewhere now, Graham thought. He wandered through the sheaves of paperwork piled high as his nose in some places, flipping a sheet here, reading one there, sticking another in his cloak pocket for closer examination later. He wished he was with her too, with Valanice at his side, breathing that crisp Daventry winter chill.

He daydreamed about the route. The promise of hot chocolate and snowberry pie from Wente’s bakery, maybe a new order of cozy woolen socks and blankets from Acorn to stave off the chill, with a detour to Amaya’s warm smithy to sit by the forge and talk about the latest order of rust-resistant armor on order for the royal guards. And then, maybe, by himself, a longer turn by the old well, past the plaque commemorating a brave knight lost, listening to the crunch and crackle of snow under his boots. Just because. Just in case someone had returned to the underground caverns. A boy (a man, now) with hair as dark as Graham’s had been at that age.

He chased the thought away, settled down in his throne, skimmed another page without reading it, wondered if he could order another cup of cider or if Valanice would swat him for putting more sweets in his rounding tummy. She was here, too, somewhere in the hills of paperwork. It was Valanice who had insisted that they clear some of the work before the year end, who insisted they couldn’t sink into the usual sorrows. She herself had hauled the papers into the throne room rather than his office so that he couldn’t ignore them. She would give him a solid (albeit playful) smack if she caught him with one of Wente’s oversweetened ciders. Maybe later.

“Dad?”

Rosella was back from her walk. She had dragged in some boy with her, some scruffy teen half covered in frozen mud, with snowflakes melting in his hair. The lad was staring at the throne, at the crown on the pedestal nearby, at the magic mirror (fuzzy and dark these last eighteen years as though cursed, although Graham realized with a sudden start that the colors had returned to it sometime recently when he hadn’t been paying attention). The boy was swaying dizzily. He looked exhausted, poor thing. Graham stood, stuffing the addenda back in his cloak pocket. “Welcome, young man, to Daventry Castle.”

“Dad?” Rosella repeated. Her voice cracked.

Valanice’s head poked up from somewhere in the stacks, like a rabbit in a burrow. “Oh! You look dead on your feet, dear boy. Might we offer you some tea, or maybe even a blanket?” She struggled out of the snowdrifts of paper, dress catching on piles and pulling them after her in little avalanches.

“D-Dad?”

That one...that wasn’t Rosella speaking. That was...the boy. The scruffy filthy lost looking...eighteen-year-old boy...with raven black hair....

The smile froze on Graham’s lips, faded. His heart beat in his ears so hard that it hurt, that he couldn’t hear anything else. Couldn’t hear the paper sliding out of its heaps as he knocked it over in his haste to get by, couldn’t hear his footsteps pounding over the carpet, couldn’t hear the sudden burbling laughter pouring out of his own mouth, couldn’t hear Valanice’s shriek and scramble over the rustling, slippery sheets, couldn’t hear Rosella’s frantic explanation, couldn’t hear Alexander’s voice for the first time in eighteen years.

But he felt the boy in his arms as they went for an embrace. Valanice’s arms wrapped around his own as they gently, so gently, afraid of crushing the boy, afraid of frightening him away like a bird, like a ghost, like a dream, held him together.

Alexander squirmed under their grip after a few seconds, apparently not used to contact no matter how soft, and the family backed away, gave him space, let him breathe, and they all stared at each other, unable to think, unable to talk.

“I think...I’m back,” Alexander said, and then his knees buckled beneath him and he went down in a heap, and the whole family reached out and caught him, and everything was different and everything had changed, but the weather didn’t pay any attention, and the snow fell even harder, swirling into drifts and making the royal guards, as unaware as the weather, sigh and clutch their shovels.

~*~*~*~

Days whirled past relentlessly.

Questions, answers, suspicions. Joy, relief, apprehension, fear. No one knew quite what to do. This was unprecedented.

Graham and Valanice hovered anxiously over the boy as he regained his strength. They were impossible to tear away from his bedside, huddled together while the boy slept, fielding more questions from staff and citizens themselves than the boy himself answered. Valanice even took to strapping her old short sword around her hip as though she would have to take up some defense of him (from Manannan, or goblins in the night, or assassins, who could say?). But the more the color returned to the boy’s sallow cheeks the more he looked like his parents. The nervous whispers in the halls about imposters faded away.

“As though I wouldn’t know myself,” Valanice fretted, twirling the ends of her hair on her fingers. “Completely unfounded rumors.”

“Yes, but they don’t know you as well as I do,” Graham said, and he kissed the tip of her nose.

Once he was deemed well enough to talk, Alexander answered everything posed to him, though often without the detail they sought. He said where he had come from (Llewdor) and how he had gotten to Daventry (hidden amongst the crates and baskets of a pirate ship). He said what he had been made to do (keep house for the wizard), but he wouldn’t explain more, and no one wanted to push him.

Except on one detail, a detail that hovered over their heads like a black cloak. The most important detail.

“Will the wizard be coming back?” Royal Guard Number One pressed. He still remembered the attack, still remembered the violence. The fear of that night, and of all nights after.

“If he does, he’ll have a hard time doing much more than scratching,” the prince replied. And he didn’t (or maybe couldn’t) explain more than that. Not yet. No1 seemed frustrated, but a sharp glance from Graham made him subside, for now.

Alexander—sometimes he responded to his name, more often he didn’t, still used to that Gwydion name Manannan had forced on him—was quiet, and tried to take up as little space as possible. But he seemed to want to be helpful. As soon as he was allowed to leave his sickbed, he started searching for chores. He was often found outside trying to feed the chickens, and the servants had once caught him pawing through the broom closet looking for a bucket and mop.

“You don’t have to earn your place here,” Valanice told him gently. She reached out as though she wanted to sweep his unruly forelock, so like her husband’s bouncy curls, out of his eyes, but she held back when he flinched ever so slightly.

“Of course not, Ma’am—er, Mom. Still, though, do you think they need help sweeping the throne room?”

At his first presentation to the public, hastily gathered together as a means to silence rumors still floating around the kingdom, he stood uncomfortably next to his family, shifting awkwardly and blushing at the attention, candlelight glinting off his wary eyes. He ducked out at the first moment possible. No one saw him again for the rest of the night—he was good at finding little nooks and alcoves and burying himself in them, entirely out of sight.

Rosella, though, was determined. The Feys had brought Alexander hot chocolate during his days spent recovering from that terrible sea voyage, and while Alexander wouldn’t admit it, she could tell that he loved it. One chilly evening not long after the presentation, she invited Wente to the castle kitchens. She helped him mix up a fresh batch, getting melty chocolate chunks everywhere in the process (accompanied by No1’s barely muffled groans of annoyance when he walked past and saw chocolate halfway up the walls). She plonked two steaming mugs on a tray, covered them to keep them hot, and went in search of her brother.

Always searching, even after he’s been found.

As it happened, he was in his room.

It was a lovely room, near hers. It was always meant to be his, but it had sat sad and empty and dusty for eighteen years. They’d swept it, cleaned it, and let him have it as a blank canvas to do as he wished with. Which...he hadn’t done much. Guest rooms were richer with cozy decor than the crown prince’s room.

She knocked gently, pushed open the door, and found her brother kneeling on the floor by the bed, looking at something. He twisted to face her, shoving whatever it was behind him, yanked the bedspread down, smiled unevenly. Fear gleamed in his eyes. She leaned sideways, peering around him. A scarf trailed out from beneath the bed.

“Isn’t that the scarf Acorn made you?” she asked.

“Is what?” Alexander said with false cheerfulness. He kicked out behind him, and the scarf vanished under the bed.

“Are you hiding it? You don’t have to, I’ve seen it, it’s a nice one. He makes tons of them, says it helps him relax. You should wear it, it’ll be warm.” She put the tray on the (bare) desk and knelt beside him. She reached forward under the blanket, not actually bothering to look where she was reaching, and he made no move to stop her.

But instead of the scarf, her fingers felt something hard. A box? She gripped it, tugged it, but it was stuck, so she pulled harder. It popped free and caused an avalanche of clattering, rattling, dinging noises under the bed.

She glanced at Alexander, who now looked hopelessly guilty, and studied the box in her hands. It held a silver inkwell and quill, delicately engraved with looping vines. “Normally, people put these on their desk,” she said.

“Do they? I mean. Of course they do. Because they’re normal people. And I’m a normal person, too.”

Rosella pushed the blanket aside, revealing a veritable treasure trove. Gifts glittered in the candlelight, things the kingdom had cheerfully given to its lost prince. Welcome home cards, and cups, and papers, and embroidered pillows, and small tapestries, and hats and gloves, and a cloak, and an ornate dagger, and pressed flowers from warmer times, and other odds and ends that didn’t seem to have a use except in some esoteric way that only Alexander understood. His crown was under there, too, a slim golden circlet he was supposed to wear during official occasions but could otherwise be ignored. She dropped the blanket, hiding the inventory again.

Alexander was twisting his fingers together. “Please, don’t tell...I...”

Rosella took his hand in hers. It was cold. She pulled him so that he sat on the bed next to her, and then she pressed one of the hot chocolate mugs into his shaking fingers. Then, ever so carefully, she leaned against him. Lightly, so he could shrug away if he didn’t want her to touch him. He tensed, and then, just as carefully, leaned back, so that they propped each other up. The twins sipped their hot chocolate together. The torches in the hall snapped and popped, but otherwise the room was quiet.

Once the mugs were empty, Rosella said, “I can help you decorate, if you like. There’re some nice tapestries under there. It’ll be warmer in here with them up. If you don’t like the designs, I can help you swap them.”

Alexander didn’t say anything. He held his empty cup in both hands, swirling the dregs of chocolate.

She stuck her finger in the bottom of her own mug, dragged it through the remnants, and licked it away. Alexander shyly did the same, and then smiled. The first one she’d seen from him, she was sure. His eyes were still a little uneasy, a little guarded and suspicious, but he nodded. “I would like that. It does get a bit cold up here.”

“I think I saw a blanket from Acorn under there, too,” she said. “Maybe we could get that, if you want. It might be more comfortable in here with it.”

Alexander hesitated, then reached under the bed and pulled out the box with the inkwell in it. “And you can show me where to set this up? Like I’m supposed to, like a normal person.”

“Normal in this castle is relative,” she said, putting her hand on top of the box. “It can go anywhere you like. Which can include your desk.”

He thought about it, and then nodded. “That makes the most sense for it. On the desk. And. And, maybe...we can put out the pillows.” He swallowed and backtracked, glancing at the door as though expecting someone to be watching, judging, ready to take away his few treasures again. “Um. Tomorrow, maybe.”

“I think that would be a nice idea. Are you still okay with putting up tapestries tonight?”

“Um. Could...?” he stopped, looked down.

“Could?” she prompted.

“Could we have another hot chocolate, first, and then...you help me pick out the right ones?”

“Absolutely.”

#the goal is for you to read valanice as either vee or neese depending on your personal choices in ch3--she's more wholly here #ohhhh we startin ohhh man we startin i've been talking about doing this for like three years and we finally startin #haven't quite decided a publishing schedule yet even tho it's done #kings quest #King's Quest #fic'ing #ch4 #King Graham #alexander (king's quest)#neese #vee #rosella (king's quest)#you'll see a couple gerbils in written form here and there; i've been nurturing these headcanons for ages #Gwendolyn (king's quest)

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i-havetroublewithsnakes · 4 years

Text

"Let’s go home" // Sweet Pea

Pairing: Sweet Pea x Reader // Betty Cooper x Reader

Word Count: 620

Author’s Note: Hello there! Even if I love Betty/Veronica friendship.. how cool could it be if Betty met SP’s gf and boom. Anyways like always this is not my first language so i’m really sorry for all the typing errors.

The first time Jughead took Betty at the Quarry, it was a peaceful spring night, and that night first the first time Betty saw Y/N. The girl had Sweet pea's jacket oh her shoulders while she was sitting on his bike. Sweets was talking to other serpents not so distant from her. "She is Y/N" Jughead said coming closer to her and she smiled. "She is not a serpent, but she is from the Southside" he continued explain looking at Betty. Y/N look at her with a smile "and last but not least she is Sweet pea’s girlfriend " Betty turned listening a female voice coming from her back, Toni was looking at Y/N with a grin on her face. Y/N laughed and Betty thought she had the sweetest laugh ever. "And she is Betty, my girlfriend" Jughead said with a smile on his face. "Nice to meet you Betty" "My pleasure" the blonde girl said softly.

The night at the Quarry was passing fine, Betty took a sit beside Y/N while she was drinking a beer, there was a great atmosphere when a scary sound came from Betty and Y/N's back, they look at each other and behind them with a strange feeling. "We should tell them" Betty said with a worried look on her face but Y/N was already up. "They deal with shitty jobs everyday, it's only a sound maybe the wind, I'll go check, stay safe here" she said but Betty wasn't agree with that. She followed Y/N even if she was a little bit scared, Y/N smiled when she felt Betty’s hands on her arm Betty furrowed her brows while they were walking and suddenly she saw a male figure in front of them, her heart stopped. Y/N's reaction was fast, fucking fast. She back off dragging Betty with her when that guy jumped out against the girls. He pointed a bat on Y/N and she rolled her eyes. "Oh god, again?" she said annoyed. The only thing Betty was thinking was how she could be so fearless. That question made Toni turns her face suspiciously and Y/N wasn't anymore on Sweets bike but facing someone, she jumped. "Sweet pea!" Toni yelled and all the serpents turned where the girls where. Everything happened fast, Betty saw some serpents running after the guy and Sweet pea looking at Betty with anger. "She did nothing babe, I heard a sound and I went check" Y/N said approaching him. "How many fucking times I told you t-" Y/N put her small hands on Sweets arms, coming really close to his face "I'm sorry, okay?" she whispered, their lips was almost touching He rolled his eyes and sighed stepping back. "I think he hates me" Y/N looked up at Betty who was watching Sweet Pea talking to FP. He was nodding to something FP said and Y/N smiled to herself, he was so beautiful. "No he doesn't, he is like that. He trust no one, at the beginning he just look at everyone like the grumpy cat" Y/N said laughing. "Are you gonna fight about what happened?" Betty asked and Y/N nodded. "I'm sorry" "for what?" Y/N asked with a confused look. "for the fight you will have" Betty said and Y/N chuckled. "it's not your fault, we always fight for this type of things. I grew up in the Southside and I always faced with this kind of things but he is overprotective about me. That's fine" She explained "Yes but.. He doesn't even kissed you" Betty whispered. Y/N smiled blushing a little bit. "He doesn't really like affection when he is angry" Sweet pea caressed Y/N's arm. "Let’s go home" he said and Y/N looked up to him nodding.

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adler-obsessed · 4 years

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Heyo, I’ve noticed in some of your posts about China that you seem to always hint about there being some kind of darkness within her? Like most other sp fans depict her as kinda a selfish bitch, but like you always paint her as very serene and yet there’s something just below the surface that isn’t so pretty and I think it’s a really interesting take on her. I was wondering whether you’d mind doing one of your awesome analysis posts on what gave you that impression, if it’s not too much to ask??

woo boy, this is gonna be a long one and sorry for the wait anon but exams were killing me and this one took a while to put together, but I hope you enjoy!

So, yeah I’ve always pictured China as a person who’s very much keeping her vicious nature under control and yet, sometimes there are moments we see a part of it come out and yeah, here’s me trying to explain that!

Alright, so there’s three main things that give me this impression - China’s inner monologues, descriptions of her by those who she previously worked with e.g. Eliza Scorn, and her combat style - I’ll go through each of these sections in depth.

China’s inner monologues:

One thing I find immensely interesting when it comes to China’s inner voice and/or dialogue is that it generally seems to be in conflict, mostly in the ways she wants to accomplish her goal - often when China was forced into action in phase one, one of the first things that always is mentioned is her doing something that she wouldn’t have done before/wasn’t her first thought when it came to handling the situation - often, her initial reaction is something much more violent, cruel and brutal. Often, she has to remind herself of her supposed facade, of her grace and serenity, before she acts in a slightly less violent manner than she was considering.

EXAMPLES:

Her finger hovered by her elbow. One twitch would be all it took, and the pain would rise so suddenly their hearts would burst. Instead, she flattened her hand...

She smashed his head into the wall. It was so satisfying, making them hurt.... she felt the power snap through him and his whole body jerked wildly and he collapsed. She looked down. So, so satisfying... she closed her eyes, relaxing.

“He will not condemn me for my past actions, so long as I don’t revert to the person I once was. The war with Mevolent changed everyone who fought in it. We each saw things in ourselves that we would rather not admit to.”

“You beat me last time because I had grown complacent,” she said softly. “I had lost my edge. But I’ve had a year to get my edge back. Feel how sharp I am, Eliza?”

“You do not want to upset me,” China said, pushing her cup to one side. “You wouldn’t like me when I’m upset.”

Indeed, we even see this conflict mentioned in her dialogue when she talks to Prave:

“You know,” China said, “there was a time when nobody dared threaten me. I just wouldn’t stand for it. The amount of people I killed, of bodies I twisted and bones I snapped, all because they had allowed their anger to momentarily overwhelm their good sense. I regret it all now, of course. I was out of control. I was indulging the darkness inside me far too often. I was not, Mr Prave, a very nice person. But I have changed. I have allowed the years to mellow me....

But every once in a while, I get the urge....The urge for destruction. The urge to hurt, maim, kill. It’s quite a thing, to experience that urge, to let it wash over you, to give in to it. It’s addictive. It’s all-consuming. You lose yourself to it. It’s quite, quite wonderful. I can feel it, even as I speak, tapping around the edges of my mind, trying to prise me open, slip its fingers in. And it would be so easy to let it happen. But we’re all like that, aren’t we? We’re all barbarians at our core. We’re all savage, murderous beasts. I know I am....I know I roar very loudly indeed. How about you? Do you think you can match me?”

Simply put, China’s true nature is one a lot more impulsive and a lot more brutal than the facade she puts up.

Descriptions by others:

Secondly, one of the key things that crops up when people from her past describe her is her inclination towards violence and action - China’s neutrality is a far more foreign concept to them than it is to us as the readers, and this really does show:

EXAMPLES OF HER NATURE:

“China, because she enjoyed that kind of thing, went after your wife. By all accounts, it was a knock-down, drag-out fight.”

“Look at her face, Prave. Isn’t it a beautiful face? Isn’t it the most beautiful face you ever did see? But beauty is so deceptive. Looking at her now, you’d never guess that she was calculating the most efficient way of killing us, would you? There’s not a hint of that in those startlingly pale blue eyes. If we didn’t know better, we’d still be gazing at her, falling in love all over again, and she could walk right up and stab us through the heart, and we’d never see it coming. All because of that beautiful face.”

“What’s in the past is in the past,” China said. “I’m going to end up killing every one of you for all this, and one more name added to the list won’t make much difference.” Gallow looked at her, then at Scorn. “I thought you said she was under control.”

EXAMPLES TO DO WITH NEUTRALITY:

“It’s time to take off this mask you wear, to end this charade. You need to take your place.”

“My place is right here.”

“We both know that’s not true. You could no more turn your back on the Faceless Ones than I could. I have seen your devotion.”

“My devotion, as you call it, has waned.”

Vengeous shook his head. “You have sworn your allegiance to the dark gods. You cannot simply change your mind.”

“I expected more from you, China. When you left us, I thought you’d be back. No one could do the things you’d done and then walk away. I didn’t think it was possible.”

Practically all of them can’t believe her passivity, because to them, that isn’t the China they know and fought beside for however long. Instead, the China they describe reveals a much more darker nature than the one we see - a China who wasn’t valued because of the information she had or her manipulation of others - a China who was valued for her effective and brutal action against the cause’s enemies.

Indeed, when considering China’s role during the war it becomes much clearer that she was ultimately valued for her devotion and ferociousness, her brutality and her effectiveness

Her fighting style:

Lastly, that leads us to the final thing - China in combat.

Now, one of the criticisms I saw after Bedlam that surprised me is that people felt that when China was fighting in some chapters, it felt too ‘Tanith’ or wasn’t elegant enough.

But the thing is, China’s fighting style has always been extremely rough.

EXAMPLES:

Strength flooded her body and, when Mist reached for her, China grabbed her wrist and twisted, locking Mist’s arm straight and forcing her to her knees... China struck the back of her elbow. Mist shrieked and the elbow shattered and shards of bone ruptured the skin.

China parried the blow and chopped at Tanith’s bicep. Tanith back-pedalled, her right arm hanging uselessly, and China stepped in quickly and caught her with a solid haymaker to the jaw.... China turned her attention back to Tanith. She activated the symbols on both of her palms, then stepped up to clamp her hands on either side of Tanith’s head. Tanith arched her back and screamed.

She hurled daggers of red light and dived a rider who came at her with a sword. She slammed her forehead into his face.... “Skulduggery?” China demanded, breaking a rider’s wrist and jabbing her fingers into his eyes.

China hit him from the side... In an instant, China was leaning over him, her hand pressing against his forehead. He screamed, then went silent, but China kept her hand on his forehand, making his body jerk.

The sigils on China’s knuckles flashed into his line of sight right before she broke his nose... her fist crunched into his side, smashing ribs.

There seems to be an assumption that because China is seemingly filled with grace that her fighting style would also be this simple, effortless thing.

And in a way, it is, when one considers her discipline, with her sigils meaning she can easily defend herself in a moments notice. But China’s fighting style has never been about grace - it’s always been about effectiveness, taking down her opponent in the quickest way. Indeed, Eliza Scorn even mentions this:

“Looking at her now, you’d never guess that she was calculating the most efficient way of killing us.”

And, very often, the first thing we see China lose when she enters a fight is that grace as she practically springs into action.

EXAMPLES:

China, meanwhile, was getting down and dirty with the remaining mage. They rolled across the ground, China’s hair in her face. Finally, China simply grabbed the sorcerer’s head and slammed it down into the concrete, once, twice. Satisfied that her opponent was no longer a threat, she got up, breathing hard and looking angry.

All of these examples clearly indicate just how brutal her fighting technique is and indeed how brutal her natural response to things is.

Overall:

One of things I notice most when people simplify China’s characterisation is that they turn her into a weak, vain bitch who isn’t able to defend herself or a princess who views violence or at least being involved in combat as beneath her - the truth is, China has always been a paradox: The beautiful woman with the ugly nature, the self serving who was once devoted, the graceful creature who easily becomes the brutal killer.

Another thing people seem to forget that the China we meet in Book One is very different to the China the people who she spent the majority of her youth and adult life with expect- her neutrality, her commitment to her library and indeed her self serving nature are all very foreign to them - perhaps we should all consider why and also what she was like before she decided to leave the conflict.

Part of the reason why I love China is that there are so many hidden and unexplored parts of her personality and nature that are only hinted at - she’s not a black and white character, and often people’s perception of her changes when they try to simplify her character into something black and white.

And yeah, that’s the basics behind this headcanon!! Hope it all makes sense and if not, feel free to drop another ask or dm!!

#skulduggery pleasant #china sorrows #ask

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mrsparkjimin18 · 3 years

Text

Part 1: Isabella the Prodigy

From a young age her mother taught her the different levels of mathematics, insisting that the most important puzzle in life was keeping the numbers together. That mathematics could solve any problem, and that she must never forget that.

She remembered when her mother was still a professor at the University, she couldn’t remember what state. However, as the years passed, she went to work less, until she eventually didn't go at all. Being as young as she was, she was unable to realize the fact that her mother suffered from a slew of mental health issues. In her eyes, her mother always took her on adventures, which would lead to arguments between her parents.

Sitting in the living room of the mobile home, she could only make out bits and pieces of the argument between her parents. Only a week ago her father left, saying he couldn’t stand what had become of her mother. When he came back to retrieve his belongings, he swore he would take Isabella with him.

“This didn’t just start...you have been becoming...irrational!” The little bits she could hear her father saying made barely any sense to the mind of an 8 year old. “What the hell are you doing? Are you threatening….gun!”

Sitting at the coffee table working on a calculus problem her mother assigned her, she could see her father slowly backing down the hallway. With dark eyes and a wild gaze upon her face, her mother followed closely on his toes, gun pointed at him. “Over your dead body will you take my daughter from me!”

Her father looked at her as he inched for the door, the look of despair in his eyes, he mouthed two words that would forever be etched in her mind, “I’m sorry.” He turned and exited the trailer, her mother quickly closed and locked the door, watching him through the blinds in the window as he drove away.

“I’m sorry you had to see that Bella. He will never take you away from me. Ever.”

After that night, they moved from place to place, Isabella was too young to realize if they switched cities or states. They only stayed long enough for her Mother to gather any food and supplies they needed and to make enough money for gas. To Isabella they weren’t vagrants going from city to city never settling, they were on an adventure that her mother said only they understood.

She never saw her father again, figuring that if he really cared about her he would have been there, he would have tried harder to find her in this game of hide and seek. However, he never did find her and she told herself she would never go looking for him. If she learned anything from the relationship of her parents, it was that men will leave you, no matter how much they claim to love you, they will leave.

About a year after her father left, her mother said they were going for a car ride, the whole time she told her how much she meant to her and how much she loved her, which is why she had to do what was best for them. “I don’t want you to end up like me,” she said, looking at her in the rearview mirror, right before she drove full speed into an approaching semi.

~~~~~

Since Isabella had never really been around other children it was hard for her to make friends at the orphanage. Mainly, she kept to herself, socializing like the other girls when there were prospective adopting couples. Many times she avoided the session, keeping her nose in a book, or solving math equations to pass the time.

On a cool spring day, she came across a dusty chess board in the game room. She took it into the dorm, keeping it under her bed. One day she would learn to play, but first she had to learn everything about chess. She found books in the small library of the orphanage, reading them throughout the night when the other girls were sleeping, in between classes and even during lunch and dinner.

Within a year, she was able to challenge the elders in games of chess, winning effortlessly. Until one morning she awoke to find a note under her bed rather than the chess board, it was from the headmaster.

“Report to my office after breakfast.”

She went to the cafeteria and silently ate her lunch as always, anxious to see why the chess board was taken. Once she finished eating, she turned in her tray and reported directly to the office.

“Come in and close the door,” Sister Gwendolyn said sternly.

Although all of the staff had “Sister” before their names, none of them properly represented a nun by far. Still, Sister Gwendolyn carried herself as a strict nun by Isabella’s imagination. She was a large woman in height, her pale face and bright red hair made her look as if she’d never seen the sun before. Her deep green eyes seemed to pierce through your soul, as if she knew every thought going through your mind. However, her fair, smooth skin added a gentleness to her otherwise overpowering demeanor.

She closed the door and sat at one of the chairs in front of the large mahogany desk. The headmaster still hadn’t looked at her, which caused her anxiety to elevate immensely. Sweat began forming above her brows, her heart felt like it was going to pound out of her chest and her body began trembling.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Sister Gwendolyn looked at her, “Isabella, are you okay? You look as if you are about to faint. Here have some water and calm down.”

She poured her a glass of water as she handed her a flyer, “Do you know what this is?”

Isabella shook her head, but she began to read the flyer.

“It’s for a chess tournament at the local high school. First place wins a trophy and a $250 consolation prize. Do you know what we could do with that money here? I have entered you in the competition this weekend, and I have set-up the chess board in the adult lounge of the orphanage. You will have your breakfast, lunch and dinner there, as well as access as needed to practice for the tournament and any future tournaments. There will be no further discussion about this, just know that you are going to benefit the orphanage that has taken such good care of you thus far.”

Isabella knew better than to disagree, but she wouldn’t anyway. Playing chess had become her escape from reality, when she played the rest of the world disappeared, it was just her and the pieces on the board. She nodded her head in agreement, trying to hold back the excitement trying to escape from her throat.

“Then it’s settled, hurry along to class, you will only have history and reading after breakfast. You have already shown you are well above any level of math we teach here, so you will no longer need that or choir. Well, we are done here, you may be excused.”

She silently rose from her chair, turning quickly, smiling from ear to ear as she exited. Isabella quickly went to her dorm, wanting to read a bit more on a chess book she’d been studying.

She studied late into the night, almost unable to sleep, but deciding it would be best if she at least made an attempt. Laying in her bed, in the large room with more than ten other girls, sleep continued to evade her. Her body felt exhausted, but her brain was on overdrive.

Suddenly, a chess board formed on the ceiling, the pieces began to appear, and the game began to play itself. She spent the majority of the night envisioning all of the possible outcomes of the game, until her eyes could no longer stay open.

The weekend seemed to approach quickly, yet Isabella showed no signs of nervousness. She was ready for this, her mother had prepared her for this moment without her even realizing it. All of the math, problem solving, equations, and the games of chess, at least twice a week.

As Sister Gwendolyn drove her to the local high school for the chess tournament, she repeated how important this tournament was for the orphanage. Isabella sat in the back of the car, watching the trees pass by, looking at the clear blue sky, imagining she was an important person being driven by her personal driver. Sometimes her mind would wander, her imagination would run away with her; what seemed like a few minutes was actually the entire 30 minute drive to the high school.

As she stepped out of the car she was amazed by the massive building, since she had never been to an actual school, this experience was even more motivation. She figured if she could win this tournament, she would become famous and everybody would know her name, see her face.

“Isabella, snap out of it, we need to get you signed in. Now you listen, don’t let these boys intimidate you, use their insults as motivation to beat them. You are the first girl to enter a chess tournament, and today you will show them why you deserve to be here. You understand me?”

She nodded and walked into the front door with her head held high and confidence that anyone could see. As she signed in, the high school students were eyeing her, wondering who she thought she was to enter a high school tournament. The little snickers and sneers she heard as she waited to see who she’d be competing against first, only motivated her to make sure she won.

As the tournament began, she swept through her first 3 competitors in less than an hour. People were amazed, crowding around her table to watch her take out the competition. Less than two hours later and she was up against the reigning local champion, she politely asked for a bathroom break, just to make him wait in considerable agony, wondering if he would still be the champion after today.

Isabella decided to show off her skills and took him out in under 30 minutes, impressing the spectators so much that they began cheering loudly, which wasn’t typical of a chess tournament. She politely stood up and shook his hand, before promptly walking from the table to Sister Gwendolyns side.

Afterwards she was awarded the local championship trophy along with a check for the 1st place prize, a check in the amount of $250. She handed the check to Sister Gwendolyn, holding onto her trophy proudly as she took photos for the local and state newspapers. She basked in the attention she was receiving from the journalists and spectators congratulating her on her first victory, journalists and reporters requesting exclusive interviews, spectators asking for autographs.

Her glory was short-lived as Sister Gwendolyn notified her they needed to get back soon to wait for calls about other tournaments that would most likely want Isabella to play. She said her thanks and goodbyes and followed her out of the school and back to the car.

The ride seemed surreal, she couldn’t stop staring at her first ever trophy, constantly thinking about how she felt with all the attention she was getting. She felt like a movie star, people wanting her autograph and interviews. Women telling her she set a precedent for girls to play in the future, that it wasn’t only for men. Now she knew what it meant to set the standard, she just raised the stakes for the game of chess.

By the age of thirteen Isabella had risen from a local champion to the state champion, feeling as if life couldn’t get any better. Sister Gwendolyn had started giving her half of the winnings after she won her third local championship in a nearby county. She saved all of her winnings, since she had nothing to spend it on, for the day she turned eighteen and would be on her own.

When she woke up in the morning, she started her day as any other, putting on her uniform and going to breakfast with all of the other girls. After breakfast, Isabella headed to her first class, when she was stopped by Sister Gwendolyn.

“You are needed in my office, Isabella.”

Isabella sighed, “Another tournament? Can’t it wait until after my first class? You know I love math.”

“This is not in regards to any tournament, there is a couple in the office that noticed you the last time they visited, and they’d like to meet you.”

“Me? Why me?” There had not been a single couple that wanted to see her since she arrived at the orphanage, panic set in, she wasn’t even sure how to behave for this situation. She figured she would never be adopted, so unlike the other girls she didn’t practice what she would say or how she would act.

“That doesn’t matter now dear, this is your chance at living a normal life as a teenager, going to school, making friends, maybe even one day finding a boyfriend. This is your chance at having a family again. You have done so much for this orphanage, and we truly appreciate it. Now it is your turn to have what you’ve wanted since the first day you arrived - freedom. Now hurry along, we wouldn’t want to keep them waiting, now would we?”

She shook her head no, walking briskly alongside Gwendolyn, stopping to check her hair and appearance in the glass of the announcement case before entering the office.

When they entered, a woman stood up immediately, a warming and bright smile on her face, the man stayed seated without as much as taking a glance at her.

“Hello Isabella, I am Margaret and this is my husband, Franklin.”

As she walked around to the side of the desk, she was for the first time, at a loss for words. Sister Gwendolyn gave her a light nudge.

“H-Hello, Margaret and Franklin, it is very nice to meet you.” She smiled and sat in the seat offset behind the desk.

Franklin grunted without looking at her, and she could only assume this is what men were like. Margaret however seemed overly ecstatic to be there.

Sister Gwendolyn chimed in to break the awkward silence, “Do you have any questions you would like to ask her or myself?”

Margaret speaks without hesitation, “Bella, may I call you Bella? How would you feel about coming home with us today?”

Isabella can’t believe the words she is hearing, somebody actually wants to adopt her? Make her a part of their family? She calms her excitement, responding softly, “For your first question, yes you may, as my Mother called me Bella. For the second question, I would be delighted to come with you today, only if that is okay with Sister Gwendolyn?”

She looks to the headmaster, awaiting her approval or denial. The suspense is driving her mad inside, and then Gwendolyns lips begin to part.

“If Isabella is ready to go, then I have no problem with her going today. I will start on the paperwork to be sent to the state for the adoption while she gathers her belongings and says her goodbyes. Isabella, congratulations and I wish you the best on this new journey.”

Isabella thanks her as well as Margaret and Franklin, before heading back to the room she has lived in for so many years with the other girls; gathering the little bit of clothes and books that she has and putting them in the suitcase she arrived with. She patiently waited outside of the office while the couple filled out the necessary paperwork to legally adopt her. After what seemed like an eternity, Franklin exited the door first, completely ignoring her. Margaret came out with Gwendolyn, thanking her and then looking over at Isabella.

“Bella, dear, are you ready? Don’t mind old Frankie, he just needs to warm up to the fact that we now have a child, well a teenager, and he will be the friendliest man you’ve ever met.”

Isabella stood, hugging Sister Gwendolyn, before leaving with Margaret, to take the ride to her new home, new life, new everything.

Time seems to have flown by since the day she was adopted by Margaret, she doesn’t include Franklin. From day one he wasn’t very interested in getting to know Isabella, or even to acknowledge her presence. After about 6 months, he packed his belongings and said he had to go out of state for work for a couple of weeks, which turned into months, then years, in which he never returned at all.

Isabella didn’t mind, he made her feel uncomfortable in the home. However, he was the only one who had an income, so with him gone, they were struggling to pay the mortgage, utilities and even to purchase food. One day that all changed for the better.

Isabella learned of local chess tournaments with cash prizes, so in the beginning she secretly entered the tournaments and won the prize money. She would discreetly slip the money in Margarets purse or in the envelope for the bills.

One Saturday morning, as she was about to walk out the door, Margaret stopped her.

“Isabella, where do you go at night and early on Saturday mornings? Don’t say the library, because I have gone there looking for you. Do you have a boyfriend? Are you having premarital relations?”

Isabella giggled, “A boyfriend? Margaret if I was seeing a boy you would have met him by now, so no, I don’t have a boyfriend. I am definitely not having ‘premarital relations’. I have been playing in Chess tournaments to win money for the mortgage, bills and food. It was the least I could do, since you gave me a home and showed me once again what it feels like to be loved by somebody.”

Margaret stood there stunned and surprised, unable to find the words, only able to wrap her arms around her.

“I was wondering where the money was coming from. At first I thought maybe Franklin had been sneaking in and leaving the money, but I laughed that thought off. Then I thought you were stealing it, but I didn’t know how to ask you..Chess tournaments? Are you good?”

Isabella smiled, “Why don’t you come with me today and see for yourself?”

Without hesitation, Margaret threw on her coat, grabbed her car keys and they headed out the door.

At the tournament, she didn’t understand a single moment of the chess game, all she knew was that her Bella had advanced through each game so quickly, that she had to wait for over two hours to play the other finalist. She quickly beat him and received congratulations, as well as a trophy and a cash prize.

As they drove home, they sat silently for a little bit. Margaret had so many questions, but it was as if Isabella already knew them and spoke first.

“The trophies, I usually just leave them on the bus, or toss them in a dumpster somewhere. That is why you never see them, but since you know now, I would like to purchase a trophy case for future trophies. There are larger prizes, but those are for regional and state level tournaments. With school and no means to travel that far, I haven’t been able to compete. Also, I know that you have not had to use all of the money I have given you, as Franklin now pays you alimony after he decided to divorce you. I also know that you have saved it all, in a little envelope labeled ‘Money for Bellas college expenses.’ I hope you will not be disappointed, but I do not have plans to go to college. I want to play chess, I am probably the best at it in the United States, and I can go on to be a chess coach once I have achieved the highest title of World Champion. Have I left any answers out?”

By this time, Margaret had pulled over on a side street, listening to her every word. She was amazed at the certainty in her words, how she was such a brave young woman that wanted to stick with her dreams, unlike her.

“As a young woman, I was a fabulous pianist, I played at many events. I could have had a career in music, but Franklin thought that I should stop pretending like I could make anything of myself. I gave up playing and decided to be a housewife and mother, which the mother part never worked out for me until I saw you. I want you to be able to fulfill your dream. My only question is how do you feel about me homeschooling you while we travel the United States and you compete? I’m open to it, if that is what you would like to do.”

“I would be delighted, but we will both need to go shopping, our wardrobes are both tired and we could use a little spark in our looks. So how about a day downtown? Let’s get our hair done, go shopping at the fanciest department store in town, then go home to plan out our chess adventure?”

They did exactly that; buying clothes and shoes that for years both of them could only ever imagine to purchase. They both changed their hairstyles slightly, and even had their makeup done. They walked around with their heads held high for the first time in a long time; being treated like royalty as they spent like crazy.

Over the years, Isabella won enough State competitions to pay off the mortgage and have it transferred into Margarets name, so she could finally be free of Franklin. They had gone on many vacations to exotic resorts with private beaches, enjoying the financial freedom that came from her chess winnings. Most people would think that Margaret was a horrible person for letting her child pay for everything, but Isabella did not see it that way. She wanted to take care of Margaret, she felt she was showing her appreciation for loving her like she did, as if she was her own. She also taught her how to carry herself as a classy and respectable young lady, to save her money, and to live life for herself.

“Margaret, there is something we need to talk about.”

“Bella, what is it?”

“I will be eighteen in a few weeks, so I will finally be able to compete in the US Open Chess Championship. I would like to compete in it, but since I am still only seventeen, I will need your consent to enter and play in the preliminary tournaments. Would you be willing to do that for me, as well as be my manager?”

“Of course, Bella, this is what you have been waiting for. So, where will we be staying for the next few weeks?”

“How do you feel about nice relaxing days, at a beachfront resort, in California? After that we can take a mini vacay in Cabo San Lucas. Sound like a plan?”

“Well, should we go shopping?”

Isabella sings with excitement as Margaret plays her favorite piece on the piano. They go shopping for bathing suits and new dresses, talking about their soon to come California/Mexico trip. Booking their flights as soon as they get back to the house, Margaret cooked them a nice dinner and they ate at the dining room table reminiscing about their lives together over these last almost 5 years.

When Isabella finally went to sleep, she dreamt of chess boards. Not just any chess board. A life size board where she walked from square to square, reciting the location, what piece could move there, and lastly her favorite plays.

When they arrived in California, they were picked up in a sedan, sent by the US Chess Open themselves. They were driven directly to the location of the upcoming preliminaries, where they were greeted by news reporters and journalists. The main buzz involved a female chess prodigy, which was in rare form these days. Although thanks to her, there were many more females playing chess. None of them, of course, were as successful as Isabella. She wanted to bask in the glory of being somewhat famous, but Margaret pushed through the reporters and reminded Isabella to keep her focus.

When they entered the convention center, it seemed as if there were hundreds of other competitors getting their forms turned in and registering for the prelims. For the first time since she began playing chess, Isabella felt that nervous ache in the pit of her stomach. She dreamed of this day for years and now that it was finally here, she wasn’t sure if she had what it took to win.

As Margaret was taking care of the forms and fees, there was a commotion outside, reporters and journalists snapping pictures and recording a vehicle approaching. As the car finally came to a stop, some of the competitors stopped what they were doing and began crowding around the entrance. The back door opened and a man stepped out, waving and smiling at the spectators and reporters.

His hair was slicked back perfectly, with just a few strands purposely hanging loosely on his forehead. His sun-kissed skin seemed to glow as the sun rays touched his face. His jawline was chiseled to perfection, his lips looked full and luscious. Isabella felt her body temperature begin to rise, she couldn’t take her eyes off of him, she felt drawn to him. She had never felt this way before, and she began feeling embarrassed. She felt the heat in her cheeks as the blood rushed to them, her heart was pounding in her chest as she walked him casually stride to the entrance.

She could hear the reporters asking if he would be competing in the games, he laughed politely and said he was only here to spectate.

“I would just like to see my possible competition in action. That is all. Please, let’s not make a spectacle of my being here, there are others that have worked hard to be here. Let them have the spotlight, just treat me as any other spectator. Thank you.”

His accent was thick, the sexiest voice she had ever heard. She froze as he began walking in her direction, stopping to shake the hands of some of the well known competitors, she wanted to close her eyes and disappear as the distance between them began to close.

“Hello, you’re Isabella, right?”

She had to look up at him, he towered over her small frame, holding his hand out to shake hers. She noticed how dainty his hands were for such a tall man, with the cutest little pinky.

She giggled as she responded, “Yes. I’m sorry, I’m Isabella, and you are?”

“Jimin, Park Jimin, South Korean Chess Champion for the last 10 years. I look forward to seeing you at the tables. Good luck.”

He kissed her hand before walking away, continuing to stop and talk with other competitors. She still couldn’t take her eyes off of him, even as he got further away. Just as he was about to enter the main tournament hall, he turned back and gave her one last glance and a smile. Her heart felt like it was going to explode.

“Bella,” Margaret called her, startling her from her trance, “I have been calling your name. Who was that handsome man you were talking to?”

“Well, Margaret, that was Mr. Park Jimin, South Korean Chess Champion. He has come to spectate and watch us play. He is the man I will have to play for the final game when I am invited to play in the South Korean Chess Championship. He is the man I will beat.”

Margaret just smiled and asked Isabella if she would like to look around before they went to cpu heck in at the resort. She agreed, and they met other players, both male and female, that were excited she was there. She once again felt like a celebrity, like somebody important, yet she could only think of Jimin.

As the tournament begins, she finds and greets her opponent, noticing that Jimin is sitting in the front row of the spectator seating. She reminds herself that she must stay focused, but it’s hard for her to concentrate with him watching her every move. She reminds herself that she is the prodigy, that she is the future world champion, and that no man will get in her way.

After a little self pep talk, she begins to take control of the game, winning fairly quickly. After the first win, the rest seem to fly by like small glimpses of memories, because the only thing she could focus on for long periods of time was Him.

She was finally up against her last opponent, this was it, the moment she had been waiting for. She glanced over at Jimin, to make sure he was watching, and of course he was. She flashed a flirty grin at him, he raised an eyebrow and smiled back. She turned back to her opponent and took her time with this game. She didn’t want to rush it, she wanted to toy with her final opponent. Let him relish in the false hope that he may win, when she already knew exactly how the game would play out.

After she had enough of toying with him, she glanced over at Jimin, giving him a wink, 6 plays later, “Checkmate.”

Her opponent studied the board for about a minute, then laid down his King, stood and extended his hand.

“Isabella, you have been one of the greatest opponents I have ever played. However, you could have had me 10 moves back, why did you wait?”

“I wasn’t ready for the game to end and I knew that no matter what move you made, I would be able to win, so I figured I would play a little longer.”

She smiled and shook his hand, they turned towards the judges table, where she could see Jimin looking intrigued by her choice of plays. He just smiled and stood up, quietly walking toward the exit of the auditorium.

She received her trophy and the top prize check, took photos for the journalists and reporters, all the while wondering why he left without so much as speaking a word. She brushed it off as he knew he was in for stiff competition with her and he needed to get back to South Korea to practice, as she was sure she would receive an invite within the next couple of weeks.

“Congratulations, Bella! I knew you could do it! So where are we going? A night on the town, dinner at a fancy restaurant?”

Margaret was filled with excitement and admiration, Isabella could see it all over her face.

“Margaret, I would actually like to go back to the resort, let’s eat in tonight and get our plans for South Korea together. I will need to focus and be ready when I receive my invite.”

She looked slightly disappointed, but knew that Isabella was right. They left and returned to the resort, ordering the most expensive bottle of wine from the front desk, opting to eat in the hotel restaurant once they freshened up.

When Isabella entered the room, she found an envelope on her bed pillow. There was no writing on the outside, which left her confused.

“Margaret, did you leave me a card on my pillow?”

“No, when did I have time to get you a card? We have been together the entire time.”

Isabella opened the envelope to find a note:

“Isabella,

I am formally inviting you to meet me at the following location tonight @ 11pm. I will only wait one hour for you to arrive. I do understand if you do not feel comfortable meeting with me alone, so you may bring your Mother. I hope to see you tonight.

Always,

Park Jimin

Lure Nightclub, I will be in the VIP area, just let the person at the door know, your name will be on my list. I hope to see you tonight.”

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