#ive been having the same thought upon waking up for the past 4 days

[tagerrkix]

god(?) said i shall have a badly drawn hastur as my profile picture

#seriously tho #ive been having the same thought upon waking up for the past 4 days #i wake up and my brain immidiately goes “you should have a poorly drawn hastur as your pfp” #then i forget about it for the rest of the day #then next morning it happens again #l i t e r a l l y h a p p e n e d f o u r t i m e s #if this isnt some sort of divine entity speaking to me then idk what it is #will it finally stop #now that i have completed the task #morning update: it did stop i am free now

[poptod]

Hiya, can u do a ahkmenrah x reader request where the reader is ill and ahk is ofc panicking but trying his hardest to help you, thank u <33 n can it be at the museum

notes: thanks for requesting! ive done similar stuff so i decided to change it up a little, still follows the prompt tho. hope you like it!

warnings: cancer. WC: 1.3k

+

You hadn't spoken since the news. Voices of doctors and relatives faded out as your vision zeroed onto nothing, willing yourself into an abyss of silence. There were options, of course––they said something about chemical treatments, healing mushrooms to help you along, CBD oil and lotion to soothe the soon-to-come, overbearing pain. And, of course, the reminder that new treatments were coming out every day.

Archivers in museums didn't get paid much; that meant that, unfortunately, you couldn't really afford much more than basic, more dangerous treatments. A pit inside you whispered it was pointless, that death was closer than you thought. Still, you returned to your place of work in the evening, your feet dragging along the floor as you stared blankly forward, automatically unlocking and locking the door without thinking.

Moving like sludge through muscle memory.

You stood in the middle of the room, crowded by people––exhibits, at least––who didn't know your ailment, or the words of the doctor that still rung in your ears…

"Stage 4," he'd said, but you didn't hear the words surrounding that piece of information. Actually, the ongoings of yesterday were lost to you, absorbed by only a few words and blank stares.

"(Y/N)?"

The darkness on the edge of your eyes began to fade.

"(Y/N), are you alright?"

Ahk was standing in front of you, his hand on our shoulder as he attempted to meet your wandering eye.

"Oh, uh, yeah, I'm okay," you mumbled, unable to look at his face.

Despite your words, it was clear to anyone who saw you that you were not in fact alright, and Ahk frowned, wishing you would speak the truth.

"Let's go somewhere quieter," he suggested, and led you up the stairs to the marine exhibits.

Dark blue light rippled around you, the sound of bubbles and swishing water the only accompaniment to your quiet walk. Ahkmenrah stood as always at your side, matching your crawling pace, and pausing with you to stare at the massive tanks.

Still, you didn't speak, and Ahk was forced to coerce you into giving up whatever was bothering you.

"What happened?" He asked, standing in front of you to keep you from walking. You had your arms crossed, and your shoulders pulled up tightly.

"I went to the doctors," you said with clear discomfort.

Ahk nodded––you told him what a doctor was a few months ago by now.

"It's cancer," you said as you sucked in a sharp breath, nodding shakily. "I don't expect you to know what it is, but.. it isn't good."

"You'll be alright though, won't you?" He asked, his brow knotted tight. "You people have so many different medicines than we ever had access to."

"We don't have all the answers," you said softly.

"Then... what will you do?"

He stepped closer to you, sharing his warmth with your dull, ashen skin. But his question––despite its relevance––left you spinning, staring out past his shoulder as your expression fell into further disrepair.

"... nothing," you finally breathed out.

Answers and possible outcomes were swirling around your waking and sleeping consciousness for hours on end, without pause or rest. The price of treatment, the methods, and how you would continue to live after chemotherapy, if you even lived at all. You could kill yourself slowly in two different ways––by cancer and by chemotherapy, or you could die a more natural death with sickness like black ink stretching over your organs just as a spider weaves massive webs.

"Nothing??" He hissed. "You can't do nothing, have you lost your mind?!"

"I can't really afford the treatment, Ahk," you whispered, as tears who had been building for hours finally fell over flushed cheeks. "And if I do get it, I'm never going to be the same after. And that's if I live. Even if I get it, the doctor said it's not likely it'll help in time."

His hands pulled your face in, the bottom of his palms on your jaw and his fingers stretching out behind your neck to pull you in.

"I can't let you die," he said, his voice breaking.

You stared at him with weary eyes, dragged down by the dark circles beneath them. There was little else you could think to say to him, so you leant forward on shaky toes, and pecked his forehead in a kiss that was barely ever there.

"I'll think about it," you mumbled, and left.

For weeks you kept coming to work faithfully, only calling in sick when the chemotherapy side-effects left you bruised and exhausted. Your hair was already falling out, but Ahk insisted he didn't mind, and you believed him––in ancient Egypt, it was customary to shave your head for religions undertakings.

Each evening when you entered the museum, Ahk would come greet you and take you to the pillows and blankets he piled up in the marine exhibits, allowing you the comfort of soft light and whale calls while he prepared a tea for you. He wouldn't tell you what it was, but you could tell it was some sort of ground root you assumed was a healing tactic from ancient Egypt. While you were sipping at the warm concoction, he massaged the aching muscles, and applied an ointment Larry had gotten for his arthritis.

Sometimes he would tell you stories––only if you asked, of course, but you enjoyed the gentle rumble of the Pharaoh's voice, and the magic happenings within his tales. Rueful Gods and Goddesses littered the stories, within vivid imagery he piece together in your failing mind.

"Ahk," you murmured on one of those harder days that, for some reason (Ahk), you returned to the museum.

He stopped mid-story, turning expectantly to you. You raised your arms to him.

"Come here," you said, and he obeyed, gingerly sliding himself down next to you in the makeshift bed.

"Are you feeling alright?" He asked, his nose brushing yours.

"No," you chuckled with a weak smile.

You fell asleep within a minute, passing out in Ahkmenrah's embrace holding you tight to his chest. When your breathing settled into a slower in and out, tears welled in his eyes, falling upon your shared pillow as his shoulders began to shake. His thumb gently rubbed your cheek, relishing in little touches and gestures.

Memorizing. Just in case.

He took care of you, as much as he could within his own death, and continued to warm your tea, make sure you were eating, and comfort you with various medicines and stories. Curled up in the blanket nest, you did your best to smile whenever you met his eye.

And then one day, you didn't come to the museum. Ahk caught McPhee saying something to Larry; something about you, and something along the lines of 'they didn't call in sick'. Larry took a visibly deep breath, speaking in hushed tones Ahk couldn't hear from his distance.

You didn't come the next day, either, nor for the entirety of the week. In attempts to find answers Ahk grilled Larry for what had happened, but he didn't know, as you were an intensely private person who only gave their number to their employer.

But you never came again, and Ahk could feel himself slipping, the image of you in his head already blurry and unclear. He tried to remember your warmth, the softness of your skin, and your breath on his bare chest, and at times he could feel your weight still on him. It only made him yearn all the more, reaching and almost feeling something that no longer existed. Lain on his chest and too far to reach.

He learned that silence is an answer in the most hellish way possible.

#ahkmenrah x reader #ahkmenrah #night at the museum #cancer tw

[jiminniethemarshmallow]

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

[mythicmalasada]

sayu + kazuxiaobenlumi dynamics (because she’s adorable and i love her) under the cut ↓

kazuha

the second one she manages to warm up to, kazuha has a certain, natural way with kids that leaves the others’ heads spinning

he’s gentle with her where lumine is motherly and bennett is fun and xiao is brotherly; he sings her lullabies and finds her pretty flowers to put in her hair, he calls her beautiful and helps her sew her tail back together when it gets tattered in a fight, he combs her hair and he holds her hand when they walk through the busy inazuma square at noon, lifting her up onto his shoulders when it gets too crowded with the threat of sweeping her away

its in these moments that sayu feels like she’s on top of the world, as if that growth spurt she so desperately craves has finally come true 

he relates to her the night she cries telling him about her past, her master who had abandoned her and how lonely she felt being out there all alone. he gets it when she paws wildly at her vision and sobs about how she hates it and loves it still because it makes her strong, but it makes her a bad person in the eyes of the shogunate. sayu doesn’t want to be a target, a villain; she wants to be loved. if nothing else, kazuha understands that feeling completely.

kazuha is patient, yet smart, keen and diligent; out of all of them, he’s the best when it comes to finding sayu in her little games of hide and seek

he’s also the best at reading her. lumine is a workaholic, yet kazuha knows when it’s best to stop and smell the flowers, to bask in the sun; if lumine recommends an expedition, he’s the one to catch the droop of sayu’s shoulders and suggest a nap on a warm rock

likewise is kazuha the chef of the group, the most meticulous one when it comes to cooking food and cooking it well; more often than not, you’ll catch him giving sayu a special plate of onigiri with a small smiley face on it decorated in seaweed, or eggs served in the shape of tanuki

xiao

through all of his years, xiao has never liked children. not in an outwardly malicious way, he’s just conditioned himself to be so thorough with violence and darkness and death that he does not enjoy the thought of a child being in his presence

he initially thinks this when he meets sayu, though after learning about her past (as is with the anemo users), he lightens up a bit

never in all his time alive has anyone ever managed to sneak up on him, xiao, the yaksha guardian adeptus. the first who happens to manage is the little mujina ninja, sayu

they’re having a party at lumine’s teapot with all their friends, and the clatter from the kitchen is too much. xiao goes to sit on a rocky hill outside and eat his slice of cake in silence

he’s staring at the sunset when a small “hi” sends him flying about 20 feet into the air, fumbling with his spear and flustered

he turns, pointing his jade spear at her and breathing heavy, and demands “how did you do that?!” to which sayu replies, “that’s the last slice of cake. can i have it”

sayu sits next to him on the hill and he numbly hands her over the plate, patting her head hesitantly as he tries to shake himself out of his shock

“listen, um. sayu. what happened when you came up here... no it didn’t. i did that on purpose, okay? to make you feel better. you didn’t startle me.” “...right, mr. xiao”

xiao is begrudging to admit she’s adorable and he wants her around, because in all honesty, he thinks it’d be safer if she stayed far away. he worries about her when he figures they’re overworking her (after all, it is hard to match pace with 4 seasoned adventurers), but he’s also learned not to underestimate her

there’s been times when he thought sayu was behind him, holding his hand out to the side and walking backwards saying “ive got you” before looking up and realizing she’s already out there kicking ass

once she catches him training and xiao pretends as if he doesn’t notice her watching, going through his attack movements slowly so sayu can mimic him

when they’re walking back from late night commissions or quests and sayu’s eyes get heavy, xiao’s the one that picks her up and leans his head against hers as she drifts off, holding her tight to his chest even when lumine looks at him all smug 

bennett

he tries so, so hard to get sayu to like him. he tells her jokes, he gets her presents, he offers to hang out with her whenever she’s alone, but that bennett luck kicks in and for some reason sayu seems... scared of him for the longest time

(she probably saw him trip over himself and set their camp on fire and figured that was scary, and that she should avoid him. for good reason)

i mentioned in this post that bennett and lumine often sleep in the same sleeping bag/bed at the inn in order to soothe lumine’s touch-hunger, and when sayu comes along, the girl doesn’t think anything of it when she follows lumine into bennett’s bed at night, of which leads to bennett with an armful of both lumine and sayu

he and lumine lay on their sides, bennett’s forehead nudging against lumine’s, sayu laying between them with her head against their chests. and when sayu’s lil hands reach up unconsciously in the night to grasp onto bennett’s, he has to suppress a squeal so as to not wake the girls up

sayu once mentions how people make her perform as some sort of act at festivals as a cutesy form of entertainment and how degrading it feels to herself and her art, and bennett bursts into tears both because it’s sad and because he’s been feeling the exact same way since he was a kid. singled out and used for the betterment of others, at a cost to yourself

bennett reads to sayu, almost every night, sometimes even on the road. xiao, lumine, and kazuha say nothing as bennett and sayu trail behind reading aloud because admittedly they too are interested in the plot

they probably get around to reading xingqiu’s book one day, and the day in which they stay over at the commerce guild, xingqiu comes in to say goodnight and overhears bennett reading to sayu what sounds an awful lot like his own writing

they attend a festival once that has a small band of musicians. bennett pulls sayu into a dance, smiling and festive as the band rattles off folk music and bennett twirls her around and around and she laughs 

lumine

sayu sees lumine as the mother figure she never had, the most innately comforting of the four that she can fall back on at all times. from the moment they meet there’s barely a second of foreign distrust before sayu leans in to lumine and immediately trusts her

lumine had reservations about taking sayu into her team when they first met, but upon realizing that everyone she’d ever gotten to trust had abandoned her, she decides that her and her team are the best way to help mend that broken heart. kazuxiaobenlumi together is lovely

the others are very, very jealous of just how easily lumine got on sayu’s good side

lumine loves doing sayu’s hair!! braiding it, threading the flowers that kazuha gives her into it, putting it up in lil buns

sometimes lumi will spend 10 mins doing her hair just for sayu to come back 30 mins later with it purposefully mussed up just so she can have lumine’s fingers carding through her hair again, and lumine can’t find it in her to be angry

sayu is often found trailing lumine around

they stop at the kamisato estate to speak to ayaka about something, and one of the guards laughs and gestures behind lumine, saying “looks like you’ve got a shadow” and it’s just sayu following her

sayu uses her ninja art to sneak into all the places she shouldn’t in order to follow lumine; ie, the kamisato estate, beidou’s ship, the golden house when she goes for a childe rematch, even the knights of favonius headquarters when lumi goes to speak to jean

lumine and sayu hugs are so so good and wholesome

lumine always manages to keep an eye on sayu during battle, making sure she’s alright. she let sayu into the team, but she’d be crushed if she ever got hurt

sayu can’t sleep at night unless she knows lumine is nearby 

sayu is hard to find when she hides, but she comes out easily when she knows lumine is looking for her 

#genshin #genshin impact #lumine #lumine genshin impact #bennett #bennett genshin impact #xiao #xiao genshin impact #alatus #kazuha #kaedehara kazuha #kazuha genshin impact #kazuxiaobenlumi #sayu #sayu genshin impact #genshin headcanons #sayu headcanons #xiao headcanons #lumine headcanons #bennett headcanons #xingqiu #xingqiu genshin impact #ayaka #ayaka genshin impact #genshin hcs #inazuma

[slapshot-to-the-heart]

Breakable Heaven (pt. I) - p.l. dubois

As promised, here’s the first part of Breakable Heaven! I’m really excited for this one, there’s so many things I can’t wait for you all to read. This chapter is more setup and background, but I promise it’s all worth it! I’d love it if you reblogged (helps me know people like my work!) or pop into my inbox and let me know what you think! I read all the tags :)

part I part ii part iii part iv

June 4 (thurs)

Laurel clipped her pager back onto her scrubs, leaning over the counter of the nurses’ station. “You ready to go grab lunch?” She had just finished changing the bandages and administering pain medication for a little boy who was recovering from a heart surgery, and was looking forward to getting off her feet for a few minutes. The PICU floor was quiet, only about half of the rooms being filled, and there were no pressing matters that required her attention. If something drastic changed in the next half an hour, she always had her pager. 

Madeline looked up from her chair, where she was finishing up filling in a patient’s chart. “Sounds good,” she said, letting their charge nurse know that they were headed down. Madeline Peltier had been one of the first people to introduce themselves to Laurel when she started; having only been on the unit for two weeks herself, she was still getting a handle on the reins and was more than willing to show Laurel around. 

Madeline was also one of the few on the floor who was just as comfortable in English as she was in French. French had been Laurel’s foreign language through college, but she was made rudely aware upon her move to Montréal that the pronunciation and slang of Canadian French was very different from the Standard French of Madame Anderson’s rural Minnesota classroom. Her grasp of the language was good enough to take the Québec nursing licensure exam — which wasn’t even offered in English — but the spoken dialect was proving much more difficult to pick up. They walked down to the cafeteria, on the second floor, grabbing some sandwiches before swiping their ID badges for the employee discount. 

“I still think they should give us free food,” Madeline said moodily, unscrewing her water bottle and taking a sip. 

Laurel laughed. “When hell freezes over, maybe. Doctor’s lounge usually has some pretty nice stuff set out, or at least that’s what they say. Pity our cards don’t let us in, I’m not above identity theft.” Madeline snorted into her sandwich. 

“What are you doing this weekend?” Madeline asked a few minutes later, starting to peel an orange. 

“Uh, not much?” Laurel said. “Getting my papers together to resign my lease in a few weeks, grocery shopping, but nothing big. It’s been a long few shifts this week and I’m mostly just looking forward to taking it easy. Why?”

“If you’re up to it,” Madeline shrugged, “Patrice and I are going out for dinner Saturday night and we’d love for you to join us.” Patrice was Madeline’s long-time boyfriend, they started dating in university and had been together ever since. 

Laurel rolled her eyes. “Madeline, thank you for the offer, but I don’t want to keep being your third wheel.” 

Madeline let out a conspiratorial grin. Oh no, Laurel thought. This can’t be good. “As it would so happen,” she said, “you wouldn’t be third wheeling. One of Patrice’s friends is back in the city for a few months, and I think you two might hit it off,” she sing-songed. Madeline had been trying to set her up from practically the moment they met; whether it was someone from her gym, one of the critical care fellows, or apparently, her boyfriend’s childhood friend. They were always nice guys, but nothing had ever stuck for more than a date or two. 

---

Twelve hour shifts meant that, at least on work days, there was no way Laurel was going to have the emotional or physical capacity to make herself a real dinner. She’d order in occasionally, but it more common to just pull together something quick like a frozen pizza or grab whatever leftovers she could find in the fridge. Yesterday’s chicken and rice it was, then. Sticking it in the microwave, Laurel opened the door to her balcony, letting Piper out to use the bathroom. Piper was an eight-month-old chocolate lab, the love of her life who she had adopted just after the new year. Laurel had always grown up with dogs; back in Minnesota she had Jackson and Lucy, and she had been missing them more than a little bit since moving to Canada. Piper was incredible. Intelligent, loyal, and so friendly that even her neighbor’s notoriously picky five-year-old son had taken a shine to her. She wolfed down her food, grabbed Piper’s leash and her water bottle, and headed out the door. 

June 5 (fri)

The intricacies of language were hard. And, somehow, learning the intricacies of a language you already knew was even harder. Laurel was trying her damndest to pick up Québecois French as fast as humanly possible, but while she could conjugate l’imparfait in her sleep, the accent and vocabulary were what was really throwing her off. But she intended on making a life in Montréal, and staying as long as she could, so there really wasn’t any option but to hit the books. Immersion worked for some people, and thank God she knew the medical terminology to communicate with her patients and their families, but it wasn’t quite the same when she was struggling through telling the mechanic her car needed an oil change. In a perfect world she’d have someone to help her one-on-one, but she didn’t want to ask Madeline for that big of a favor. And while she made decent money at the hospital — she could afford her own apartment and had a little left over every month to put into savings — it was nowhere near enough to pay for a tutor. So Duolingo, and podcasts, and Youtube lessons it was. 

Letting out a groan, Laurel leaned her head into her hands, shutting her laptop. She wasn’t going to make any progress being this frustrated. She bent down to scratch Piper, whose favorite spot for naps was a blanket right beside Laurel’s desk, between the ears, pulling her leash and collar off of their book by her bedroom door. Piper’s ears perked up, and soon enough she was running around the apartment wagging her tail as fast as it could go, a slightly exasperated but nevertheless laughing Laurel following. She finally managed to clip on her leash; at fifty pounds, Piper still had a little bit of growing left to do, but she had already proven she was more than capable of bending the will of a full-grown and otherwise capable 23-year-old woman. 

She had discovered Parc Saint-François-d’Assise a few weeks after adopting Piper, and had thanked her lucky stars for finding a dog park so close to her apartment. Having a schedule like hers meant that she couldn’t always get her to a weekly training or obedience class — plus, the French that she did know certainly didn’t include ‘heel’ — so the time spent socializing was well-appreciated. It was only a fifteen minute walk, and Piper was good enough on a leash that she only stopped once to bark at a squirrel in one of the many birch trees that lined the street. The park was an acre or two, small enough that she could see all the way across and keep an eye on Piper as she let her off-leash, but big enough that there was more than enough room for all the animals. It wasn’t particularly crowded that Friday; Laurel was confused for a moment before she remembered that most people were busy at 11 AM on a weekday. There were a few families, with kids out for the summer from school, and a man playing in the far corner with his two small dogs, but not much else. 

Laurel leaned down, unclipping the leash from Piper’s collar, and gave the chocolate lab a scratch on the head. “Have fun, girl!” Piper never needed much encouragement, and took off running almost before Laurel had even wrapped up her leash. Rolling her eyes and laughing, she picked up her phone. A text from Allison, one of her only friends in the city aside from Madeline, inviting her out for her birthday next week. Madeline, giving her the address for the restaurant the next night. The Duolingo owl, threatening her with bodily harm if she didn’t log her language progress for the day. She was so engrossed in checking her email that she didn’t hear the shout for her to look out, or the two bulldogs barreling towards her at full speed, until they had knocked her off her feet and she landed straight on her ass. 

“Desolé. Vas-tu bien?” The man asked, holding out a hand and helping her up. Laurel nodded, brushing the dirt off her jeans. 

“Ouais, ouais. Pas de problème, pas de mal. Ils sont chiens, non?” 

He chuckled, patting the smaller of the two bulldogs, which had decided to take a break from accosting passers-by to get petted. “C’est vrai.” They talked for another minute or two before saying goodbye, but she could have sworn it was an hour. 

Walking Piper home half an hour later, Laurel was struck with two realizations. The mystery man — bulldog dad, as she had started calling him in her internal monologue — had very possibly the prettiest eyes she’d ever seen in her life, and she’d be cursing herself for the next week for not getting his number. 

June 6 (sat)

Saturday meant Laurel had a day off, but more importantly, Saturday meant she didn’t have to set her alarm for 5:30 and could actually wake up at a semi-normal hour. Her internal clock didn’t wake her up until half past seven; even then, it was Piper’s soft barks that finally got her up, throwing on a pait of shorts, and leading her out to the courtyard down the hallway to use the bathroom before coming back to her apartment and throwing open the fridge doors. No 7 AM shift meant that she mercifully had enough time to make a proper breakfast. On shift days, there never seemed to be enough time to actually sit down and eat, and Laurel usually ended up just having a quick bowl of cereal or some overnight oats and making a protein shake to drink on the drive over. Eggs, bread, yogurt, a peach she had picked up from the farmer’s market. 

After the bread was done toasting and her tea was finished steeping, she gingerly carried the food out to the balcony, placing it on the table as Piper trotted out behind her. Laurel crunched her toast with one hand as she flipped the pages of a book with the other, a Shirley Chisholm biography that Victoria, her best friend from high school, had recommended her. It was almost an hour later when she finally found a good place to stop. As much as she may have liked to just camp out on her balcony all day and blow through the rest of the book, her pantry was crying out for a grocery run and she was running desperately low on ice cream. 

---

The dinner reservation was at 7, and by 6:30 Laurel was almost ready to leave. Her blue skirt fanned out on the couch as she sat killing time on her phone, tapping the floor nervously with the same pair of block heels that she’d worn to her university graduation. The restaurant wasn’t far from her apartment building, so a few minutes later, she decided to go, leaving Piper with a pat on the head and plenty of food in her bowl. Laurel laughed to herself on the way over, her eyes flickering over the skyline as she walked alongside the St. Lawrence River. 

It’s like what she had told Madeline over and over again, every time she tried to set her up on a blind date with a friend of a friend. She wasn’t actively looking for a relationship but wouldn’t be opposed to it. Whatever happens, happens. Biting her lip, Laurel decided that even if she didn’t hit it off with whatever guy Madeline was trying to set her up, even if things go horribly wrong and he’s the exact opposite of what she’s looking for in a partner, she’ll get a free meal and, hopefully, a new friend.

Laurel hadn’t been told much about her blind date, or anything, really. She didn’t even know his name. From what she had been able to figure out, he was from the area but didn’t work in Canada most of the year — so maybe he was in business? All Madeline told her was that he was tall, attractive, and had a dog. Or was it two? She honestly couldn’t remember. She trusted her and Patrice’s judgement, so if he had gotten their stamp of approval, it was good enough for her. She grabbed her phone out of her bag as she neared the restaurant, letting Madeline know she was almost there and asking where to meet her. She told the hostess she was meeting some friends, and Madeline walked around the corner less than a minute later. “Hi, love!” she said, reaching out and wrapping Laurel in a warm hug. “We’re over this way.” Laurel followed her around the corner and past the bar to a four-seater against the wall. She slid into the seat closest to the wall, leaving a space empty. 

“He should be back in a minute, just ran to the bathroom,” Patrice said, nodding towards the vacant seat and referring to her mystery man. A minute passed, Laurel scanning the wine list, before Madeline threw her hand up in greeting. 

“Salut, PL!” When Laurel looked up, she almost dropped her menu.

 “Oh my God!” The stranger — PL’s — eyes widened in recognition. “You’re the bulldog dad!” 

He chuckled, rounding the table to greet her with a kiss on the cheek. Left, then right. It had taken Laurel a while to get used to; even going to university in Toronto, cheek kissing was practically obsolete, but that changed very quickly upon her move to Montréal. “I am. Pierre-Luc Dubois, good to meet you properly this time.” 

Madeline looked between the two, clearly confused. “You know each other?” 

Laurel shook her head. “Not really, no. His dogs ran into me at the park yesterday when I was there with Piper, we talked for a minute or two.” 

Pierre nodded in affirmation. “So, Piper. The chocolate lab’s yours then?” 

“My pride and joy.” 

June 13 (sun)

 Over the next week and a half, it became more and more common for Laurel to meet up with the group on the weekend, or one of her off days, or really whenever she had spare time. She had learned that Pierre-Luc was a hockey player, Patrice explaining that they had played atom league together growing up and the friendship had somehow stuck. Come to think of it, he had looked a little familiar. The University of Minnesota Duluth was less than an hour drive from her hometown, and besides being the college that the majority of the 50% of college-bound graduates of her high school went to, it also had one of the best hockey programs in the country. So she knew the sport, followed enough to be informed, and had even become a de facto Maple Leafs fan from her time in Toronto. 

Sometimes Madeline and Laurel would bring another friend from the hospital along, sometimes it was just the four of them. Once, a Sunday afternoon coffee meetup turned into just Laurel and Pierre-Luc; Patrice had come down with a bad cold and Madeline was staying behind to look after him. If she was being honest, it was far less awkward than she had anticipated. Pierre had insisted on buying her iced capp, and they had settled in a corner booth, sharing a box of Timbits. 

“Patrice mentioned you’re from the U.S., somewhere in the Midwest?” Pierre asked, sipping his coffee. 

She nodded. “Cloquet, Minnesota,” Laurel sighed, “where there is exactly one hotel, one high school, and life revolves around the mines.” 

Pierre sucked in. “That sounds...interesting,” he said diplomatically. 

Laurel laughed. “It’s okay, you don’t have to mince words. The people are nice, if you think like they do, and the scenery is gorgeous, but…” She gathered her thoughts. “It’s not the place you can really dream big, you know?” He nodded. “Neither of my parents went to college, my mom’s a receptionist at the elementary school and my dad works in the mines. I knew by the time I was in high school that I wanted something more. There was just nothing for me there, and I didn’t ever want to feel as trapped and beaten down as some people I know.” 

Pierre leaned back in his chair. “Do you go back often?” 

“Once a year, maybe twice?” Laurel said, shaking her head. “I’ve only got a few good friends back there, and trust me, they’re much more excited to come to big-city Canada than I would be to go back to a town of 12,000 people.” 

“Fair enough.” 

Conversation between them flowed easily, so easily that before she knew it, two hours had gone by and he had to leave for a skate. As she walked back to the metro, Laurel couldn’t help but shake the feeling that the two hours she had spent with Pierre had felt more like a date than any she’d been on since moving to Montréal a year ago. But it couldn’t have been a date, because it wasn’t supposed to be. Right?

 June 15 (tues)

 It was half past seven on Tuesday, and Laurel was just getting home from work. She loved her job, genuinely, but twelve hour shifts were no joke. Spinning her key ring around her finger, she stopped in the mailroom, unlocking her box and fishing out the stack of envelopes that had accumulated in the two days since she’d last checked. Walking over to the elevators, she held the bundle in one hand as the other punched in her button to the third floor. Laurel flipped through the envelopes as the doors opened. Water bill, bank statement, letter from Immigration, Refugees, and Citizenship Canada. Hang on. Laurel stopped at the last envelope, running her finger under the flap as she turned her key in the lock, opening the door with her hip and letting it slam shut behind her. 

She had applied a little over a month ago for her permanent residency card, which she had been assured by everyone she asked would be a relatively easy and painless process. “You’re a nurse, and a good one. I could use ten of you,” her charge nurse had stated. “You went to school here, you have a Canadian degree and a Canadian license. There’s no reason they would cause you any trouble,” Madeline had said. And she had done her due diligence, double-checked every piece of information, checked off every document on the list. Done everything she was supposed to do. So when she unfolded the paper, the words shocked her. 

Denied. Laurel brought her hand shakily up to her mouth as her eyes raced down the letter. No explanation was given, all she was told was that her application had been rejected and she had until September 17, when her work visa expired, to leave the country. The first thing Laurel did was frantically grab her laptop, seeing if there was some way she could apply for a visa extension, but the deadline had passed; she’d have to go back to the consulate in Minneapolis and try to re-apply from there, but her chances weren’t good if she’d already been rejected. The second thing she did was collapse on the floor, Piper nosing herself under her arm, and cry. 

June 16 (wed)

When the group met up for lunch the next day, Madeline noticed something was off about Laurel almost immediately. Normally someone who was hyper-focused on the task at hand, she was stirring her straw around in her glass, nibbling at a piece of bread and answering questions shortly if at all. “What’s up?” she asked carefully, catching Laurel’s eye as she tried to busy herself with straightening her napkin. There wasn’t really a way she could get out of answering that one. 

“I, uh, I got a letter yesterday,” she said. Pierre and Patrice stopped their conversation. All eyes were on her. “From immigration services. They told me,” her eyes pricked with tears, “they told me my PR application was denied, and I only have until the middle of September before I have to leave.” 

“Like, leave the country?” Pierre asked. She nodded. “But can’t you renew your visa or something?” 

“No, I looked into everything.” Laurel said in frustration, shaking her head. “There’s not enough time for it to be processed, I’d have to go back and reapply in the States, and even then the chances aren’t great.” 

Madeline leaned over, wrapping Laurel up in a hug. “Oh, Laur. I’m so sorry,” she said. “You don’t deserve this.” 

“It’s just hard,” Laurel started, “knowing that there’s nothing there for me back home. That’s the whole reason why I came to Canada in the first place, to get away. To get out. I’d have to retake all my licensure exams and find a new job and I don’t want to have to start all over when that’s not at all what I planned for. I thought I’d stay. I thought this was going to be my home” 

“I can call my friend who’s a lawyer, see if he’s got any ideas?” Patrice offered. 

Laurel smiled weakly “Thanks, Patrice, but I really don’t think they’d be able to do much. I was on the website for hours, and there’s like two ways I wouldn’t be kicked out of the country. And I don’t think I’m going to be able to give birth by September 17,” she said, letting out a watery laugh. 

“You’d have to marry someone or something to stay,” Madeline said. 

“Yeah, that’s the only other way it was going to happen,” Laurel agreed. “But seeing as how I’m obscenely single, I don’t see that happening…” She trailed off. 

“I’d marry you,” Pierre said suddenly, shrugging. 

Laurel’s head whipped to her side. “You’d what?” 

“I’d marry you. We’re both single, by all accounts you’re an amazing nurse and deserve to stay. We get married, stay ‘together’ for a few years until you get your citizenship, and then tragically inform the citizenship and immigration people that while we tried, it just didn’t work out, and get a divorce. Easy peasy.” 

Laurel almost burst out laughing, the idea was so ridiculous. She almost couldn’t wrap her head around what he was offering to do. He couldn’t be serious. Right? 

---

Laurel slung her arm over her head, body tangled up in bedsheets. According to her phone, it was well past one. She couldn’t sleep. She had tried rain sounds, counting sheep, drinking a cup of chamomile tea, but nothing was working; she just wasn’t able to still her mind. Honestly, she couldn’t stop thinking about lunch earlier. More specifically, what Pierre had said. 

As much of a bad person as it may have made her sound, the more she thought about Pierre’s offer, the more it made sense. He was incredibly attractive, so it wouldn’t be hard to fake a marriage to him for a few years. She really didn’t keep in contact with anyone from back home in Cloquet aside from her family and a few friends from high school, so it’s not like there would really be anyone to blow her cover. And she really, really wanted to stay in Canada. It wasn’t just the scenery, or the general human decency of everyone, or even the universal healthcare that pushed her to stay. She had fallen in love with the people, the city, and didn’t want to go down without a fight. 

Rolling over, she grabbed her phone from her nightstand, pulling up Pierre’s contact. Hey, she texted. Laurel immediately cursed herself as the three dots popped up on his side. Hey? She was going to ask this man to marry her and the best she could come up with was hey? He wrote back immediately. Hey. You’re up late, what’s up? Laurel took a deep breath. How serious were you about offering to marry me? His second response was even faster than the first. As a heart attack.

#hockey imagine #hockey writing #pierre luc dubois #hockey smut #nhl imagine #hockey #nhl imagines #nhl smut #hockey imagines #nhl writing #nhl

[iamtheempress]

A Vegeta x OC Fanfiction (part 2)¤ ¤ ¤

The morning came with silence and silence came with Raditz banging on Calamatta’s pod. 

“Wake up! we need to get our pods to the ship in the upper atmosphere then we start the terraforming process! Got it?” SHe stretches and gives the long haired Saiyan a lazy thumbs up. Confirming she heard him loud and clear. Rubbing her eyes she punched in the coordinates to the ship and off the four pods flew to the ship in the higher atmosphere, slotting their pods into the mothership.

The four took their time to leave 2 by 2 to the planet and scour the planet to completely terraform it, with expertise and precision. Cracking open the planet enough to let the oceans flow forth, for several hours they did this until they returned to the ship. Calamatta entered the ship last and was greeted with a crisp clap to the back from Nappa. “Good job, lil lady!” He bellowed as she rubbed the back of her head. “T-thanks Nappa, now im just worried.” 

Raditz raised his hand and shook his head, “Ahhh calm down, we're going to give him an honest review of you then you will be moved to our quarters, you get your first pay and then you should be good. Settle down.” He brushes past her and makes his way to Frieza’s Hall. Vegeta followed behind, throwing a glance at the female Saiyan as she sat on a chair, he can tell she was nervous by the frequency of her bouncing leg. They didnt like bending to Frieza’s whim, but they werent about to just go against him out right.. And with one more saiyan with them to train and get stronger they could be unstoppable. Its just the matter of pandering to Lord Frieza until then and making sure they dont get killed.

Lord Friezas chambers had only Zarbon blocking their way, the annoying green haired former prince with no shame. Dodoria, the brainless ruffian was nowhere in sight. “Monkeys.. Im assuming its about the release of Friezas little ape?” Zarbon said very condescendingly to the three, very annoyed Saiyans. Vegeta tightened his fist and grit his teeth at the comparison to apes so blatantly to his face.

 “Zarbon thats quite enough. Ive been expecting them.” Friezas voice piped up waving the three Saiyans in. “Y-yes, Lord Frieza.” He obeyed and moved out of their ways. “You are excused Zarbon, your services arent needed this evening.” Frieza rotated fully in his seat and swirled a full goblet of wine within it. 

The three took bended knee to Frieza begrudgingly and raised up at the same time. “Were here to confirm our Terraforming a rousing success.” Frieza smirked and paid attention to Nappa. “Indeed. It was to be a 4 to 5 day excursion and you done it in 2 and a half days? My my, you 4 are persistent!” He chided and pointed to Nappa first. Everyone is fully aware of Frieza’s death beam so Nappa winced. Causing Frieza to visibly inflate like an egomaniac. “Now what is your report about my favorite little monkey, Ms. Calamatta” He sipped his wine and let it hover mid air rotating it and lacing his fingers together and letting his long worm like tail wag lightly. Nappa took one step forward and spoke up, light sweat on his brow as he made eye contact with deadly bright vermillion eyes.

“Calamatta’s first time out with primary race extermination was exquisite. Effective and heartless. If she continues with us you should expect the same, Lord Frieza!” He did a full bow and stepped back for Raditz, The long haired teenage Saiyan cleared his voice and spoke up, starting with an embarrassing voice crack. “She took orders for sequences of events and how to lay waist to entire cities fairly quickly. I'd prefer her with us simply because she has a job to do and she seems to enjoy it.” Frieza slowly nods, eyes closed and speaks softly. “Mhmm. mmhmmm. You two are dismissed. Vegeta… you stay.” 

Frieza took his goblet and took a sip from it as the Prince narrowed his eyes and approached, puffing up his chest. “What do you think about the pretty little simian? Shes quite interesting… obedient and has grown to be a lovely young woman, shapely i think your repugnant species would call her... You are aware her father appointed her to me when she was a child, I'd assume Vegeta…?” He lets the wine glass levitate again, Vegeta stood with his arms crossed and brow raised. “Yes, Im aware...What is this about.” Frieza clicked his nails about on his seat and smiled softly.

“Her father did not trust his only daughter with the likes of the Kings eldest boy… Not after their fight… so she was appointed as my little monkey butler, a nice little piece of arm candy… if only she wasnt a Saiyan. Anyway… Enough with my little flights of fantasy…” He gestured to the confused Saiyan Prince, his lips lined straight and unmoving. “About Calamatta… How was she.. Your word I take higher then anyone else.” He preened upon saying her name, it was borderline perverted but with a sinister meaning behind it. 

“Shes the missed opportunity id like to get my hands on. A perfect Saiyan through and through. If she werent by your side so often id have taken her by my side YEARS ago, Frieza…” He stated as a matter of factly, Friezas dark little smile returned “How disgustingly romantic... Zarbon! Summon Calamatta for me.” He snaps his fingers and trot like tapping faded down the hallway. Zarbon was waiting outside, like a good little brainless lackey.

Calamatta was tapping on the table she waited at, tail flicking nervously about behind her. She was snapped from her stupor of nervous leg bouncing and hair twirling to Zarbon slapping his hand down firm onto the table. “Calamatta, Lord Frieza is requesting your return asap.” SHe nodded and fixed her hair abit standing up and wrapping her tail around her waist. Shes known Zarbon longer then shes known Dodoria. 

The kinship Zarbon developed for her was astounding, a favorable friendship when she felt immense discomfort in her teens on. It weirds her out and flatters her nonetheless. “Yes, Zarbon.. Right away.” She walks along side Zarbon and even passes Nappa and Raditz on their way back. “Ill have you know for the duration of time that I have known you; you are not like the others… youre charismatic and maybe the most tolerable, of the 4 of you...your  still nothing more than a monkey butler though.” She sneered and returned her gaze fixed forward, down then away. The moment she turned the corner she went wide eyed to see Vegeta. 

She stopped in her tracks and was given a push from Zarbon, Frieza chirped upon her entry. “Welcome back, Calamatta! I have some good news for you…” “Lord Frieza..” She bowed at the waist obediently she stood next to Vegeta and Zarbon once again excused himself.

“I trust that your first day terraforming was a success and that you had a splendid time, did you dear?” Calamatta stood up straight and let her tail unwind from her waist. “Y-Yes! I actually liked it alot!” She chirped and gulped abit, Vegeta scoffed and closed his eyes, only for Frieza to speak. “Oh, well you are not out of the woods yet my dear...no no.. You have one more task to prove to me before i let you do anything with the male populace for you to shake your pretty little tail at.” 

He makes a face and a screen pops up on the window behind him. A massive green, blue and red planet popped up on the screen encircled by 2 rings and 2 moons. “You and Vegeta are to Terraform this planet on your own. I will give you a month to do it because this planet has highly hostile inhabitants.” Vegetas eyes snapped open and stared at the planet then to frieza. “You cant be serious? Why not just send me on my own then i can do it 3 weeks without the likes of a newbie.. No offence Calamatta but its just facts.” He crossed his arms. “Do this the both of you for me in a months worth of time and your pretty little primate will be out of my hands and in yours. Indefinitely. But if not i will be forced to use my own hand… and you dont want that Vegeta..” He grinned widely. His pointer finger extended toward the female Saiyan and she gulped upon seeing the beam charge at the tip of his digit.

Vegeta stepped infront of the female Saiyan and narrowed his eyes, his move was more instinctual than out of emotion. Calamatta never thought the prince would ever put himself in a position like this but here he was, his solid back to her front she peaked over his caped shoulder and looked at the tyrant who tilted his head. "Hehehe.. it seems ive struck a chord in you Vegeta.." "Not at all.. she's done nothing for you to raise that finger at her. I've made the decision and well go…" he clenches his fists, the material of his gloves made a noise. Calamatta could feel the princes frustration from how close he was to her… "to that planet… and well wipe it before the month even finishes.." 

Frieza chuckled, "Good… i know you will fulfill your promise.. Calamatta you stay, dear.. Vegeta…" Calamatta straightened her back  and tightened her tail around her waist. "You are dismissed.. i have a few things to discuss with her." Vegeta turned around and made eye contact with Calamatta, with a pitiful look in his eye.. like he knew she shouldn't be in this situation. "Bye, Vegeta." She said softly, causing the Emperor to briefly narrow his eyes, she kept her head forward. Vegeta said nothing as the door slid shut behind her. Leaving without a word and kind of making her heart sink abit. He grit his teeth and stormed down the hallway to a perplexed Raditz and Nappa.

“Calamatta, come little primate.” Frieza beckoned to her and snapped for one of his little cronies to bring something to him. Folded up in the hands of Dodoria himself. “Hello little Matta, hope you enjoy this little costume change.” She nodded to him and took the body suit and armor. “When would i expect to go to this planet?” SHe tilted her head and held the new suit, noticing theres not much too it, which made her really wary. “Ah ah, first things first alittle bit of information is more useful about the planet then when you and the simian prince will go.” Frieza quips looking at his shiny black claws. “The planets name is To-Rot, it is a giant habitable planet that im sure would be able to line your pockets quite nicely.”

Dodoria crossed his arms and quirked a brow at her, “Lord Frieza told you about the type of inhabitants to that planet right? Its not a walk in the park and I certainly wouldnt go alone... “ Calamatta gulped. “Now now, Dodoria. Do not frighten the girl. Who knows she could be the best of the 4 remaining Saiyans. We will see..” He gets out of his pod like seat and uses his tail to tip her chin up, a small smirk still playing on his lips.

“Run along and change and you may turn in for the evening… you both leave in 20 hours, when we arrive to the nearest solar system. From there you and Vegeta will go To-Rot.” Frieza chuckles to himself. “Fitting name dont you think? Ohohohohohoooo !!” He laughs and Calamatta turns and bows walking back to the saiyan chambers to change.

¤ ¤ ¤

Tags:  @memevember @dragonblobz @gonuclear @msgreenverse @fallen--lilith​ @jimbobslurpnchug​ @dragonballzforlife​ @nikabriefs​ @lilhemmo​ @lizardhipsdontlie​ @hierophantblue​ @supremeleadershitlord​ @thotful-writing​ @chickiedinner​ @anti-jaina @dragonball-hcs-or-sum-shit​

#A Planet To Conquer Fic #vegeta #Calamatta~ #dbz fanfiction #Pre Saiyan Saga #Frieza

[thejoshuaglenn-blog]

You're a Good Boy, Charlie Brown

The key purpose of a Tumblr blog here is really a brain dump: logging thoughts, feelings, narrative and such is easier in long form than via a brief Facebook post that generates half a dozen "oh no, what happened" comments. As I'm writing this, most of it seems like bullet points and organized timelines. If you're looking for a TL;DR or current state of thoughts, it's the last section titled The Day After, and the Day After That.

A few days ago, Niko and I said goodbye to our first dog, Charlie Brown.

I'm not keen to chat about it a lot. There's more to process than I have time to type; most of it centers around being fair to myself and to Niko, taking the time to appreciate his life without beating ourselves up, and avoiding the overwhelming mire that grief can become.

Joining the Family

CB was a rescue, a hapless victim of the 2016 Louisiana floods and a happy-go-lucky participant in a "dog for a day" event hosted by a local shelter. I fully expected to rent him out for a day, give him a few great experiences, and return him. For myriad reasons, we never did bring him back to Pet Rescue by Judy, and he's been with us ever since.

At adoption, he was estimated to be around 4-8 years old. With a kicked-in shoulder that offset his collarbone and ribcage, some assorted dental issues, and other little signs of damage (cigarette burns, what the heck is wrong with people), it was tough to really gauge his age. That means he left this world at the ripe old age of something like 9-13, which isn't terrible considering all he'd been through.

Charlie Brown was the iconic good boy. He seldom barked, he never licked or jumped, and just wanted to be in the same room as his favorite people. He had a few toys that he cherished, never ripping them up, just carrying them with him from room to room and whining a bit, unsure of where he could store them for safekeeping. Apart from some separation anxiety issues and an occasional urge to bolt out the door and book it as far as he could, CB was by all accounts an easy first dog: more like a low-effort cat than anything else.

Slowly Falling Apart

Over time, the health issues increased. Intermittent but predictably regular upset tummy. Bad gums, bad teeth. Random gooey skin lesion. Eye ulcers. Since October, we've been averaging 2-3 unplanned vet visits a month — many incurring some hefty bills. We'd take out another credit card, find another financing plan, but it adds up. So does the emotional toil on the family; so does the anxiety toll on the dog.

You start to think about quality of life for the dog, you know? He'd had a few teeth removed to sew up his gums after they kinda detached and fell apart from his jawbone — so he couldn't chew anything hard. Couldn't even chew a tennis ball, which was the only toy he took interest in anymore. Couldn't have any fun treats like peanut butter or other soft chews, as his tummy would have bad flare-ups that usually ended up with him attached to an IV bag. After finally settling in and learning to play well with Atlas, Charlie Brown started to get pretty irritable whenever Atlas got frisky.

He still loved running around outdoors, and was in otherwise great health.

I can't tell you how guilty that makes me feel, even now.

Moving to Waltham

Before we left Orlando, there were so many crisis moments in emergency vet offices where Niko and I talked about how long he could ride this roller coaster. CB obviously was not a fan of vet visits: loved the staff, but was notably anxious and panicky when separated from us, and he had grown very loathe to the process of poking, prodding, and whatnot.

Shortly after moving to Waltham (he was a champ in the U-Haul), Charlie Brown had a severe colitis flare-up. He was losing so much fluid and was growing very lethargic over the day. Vets are hard to get into these days: with the sweep of "pandemic puppy" adoptions, the vet industry as a whole is saturated with demand, and practices are responding as best they can. There were just no emergency clinics available to us within 20 miles, except one that noted "we have no availability, but you can come and wait, and we might be able to see you in 4 or 5 hours." So we did.

It was a very late night. Charlie Brown came home with us with another round of the same antibiotics he'd been taking almost regularly since December for his assorted ailments, and some probiotics. The next day, CB seemed a bit better and brighter, and Niko and I went into the city for part of the day. We came home to find he'd had an accident, but it was just... blood. So so much. And he looked so in pain, so ashamed, so guilty, so anxious.

So we went back to the vet ER. It was another very late night. I didn't know how many of these late nights we could afford; neither of us knew how many of these late nights it was fair to expect Charlie Brown to endure.

Do you plan on letting a pet go after an extended crisis visit? Do you plan on letting a pet go in a time of relative peace?

Camping Analogy, and a Best Last Day

When you're off on a long hike, and you see daylight start to fade as the sun begins to set, you begin to think about finding a good place to set up camp for the night. It's abysmal to do this after the sun has already gone down: where you could have had preparation and structure, you have chaos by flashlight.

A dog's life is in your hands. You're his whole world: all food, adventure, pampering, challenge, treatment, and care come from you. More than anything, we wanted Charlie Brown to have a peaceful, restful life. Now that we started thinking about it, we wanted to be able to give him a peaceful, restful passing as well: not as the climax of another overnight crisis with injections and yelps and beeps and cowering and anxiety and fear, but in the still quiet of familiar sounds and smells.

His very last day was a great one. Fresh Pond in Cambridge: a massive stroll around a colossal lake with an absurd bounty of new smells, kind people, happy dogs, and a brisk New England breeze. He got to swim in a little side pond — that boy lived for jumping into random lakes. He ran around the broad field that is Kingsley Bowl, chasing a thrown ball the very very farthest his sad pop could throw it — and he brought it back. We bought him a steak. We told him how much he brought to our lives.

And then we waited.

Lap of Love is a sort of home delivery service of dignified passing for pets. There's more to say on that hour than I care to pen, but throughout the procedure, we never left him. Charlie Brown passed enveloped in our arms and laps and sobs and hugs.

The Day After, and the Day After That

The rest is just thoughts. Your head starts to feel like a coffee shop where your grief comes in, sits at a table with you, and unloads. You nod, listen, and wish them well. I hope I can keep processing this way — I find it helpful, and less overwhelming.

I wish he had been able to play with his tennis ball more. Since his jaw surgery — even out on Kingsley Bowl, nearly a month and a half after he should have been fully healed — any kind of chewing would cause renewed bleeding and pain.

I wish we had hugged him more. But truth be told, he didn't like hugs. They made him uncomfortable. So we gave him a hand to lay his head on, or a knee for him to pop his head upon, as often as he liked.

There were so many times I felt inconvenienced by owning a dog at all. They weren't the majority, but... now each remembered time feels like a splinter of selfishness.

I miss how familiar the back of his neck felt under my hand, just behind the ears, where the waves of fur meet and crash and make a long cowlick of foof and fluff.

His happy smile and his stressed smile were very similar, but you could still tell which was which.

I loved being there for him in thunderstorms.

When you think about it, we sort of were hospice care for him. We weren't his original owners; we just wanted the rest of his life to be painless and fulfilling. He had so many trust issues when he first came to us. And in the end, he loved anyone he met.

I miss feeling around with my feet to make sure I don't step on him on my way to bed. I miss setting my feet on the floor as I wake, stooping down, and giving his head a good squishy rub.

He never did get to see Boston snow. I mean... thousands of dogs never get to see snow. But I was really looking forward to sharing that experience with him.

I wanted so badly to bring him to a point of health, and then say goodbye when he was feeling well. Seeing him have his Best Last Day, part of me whispered "murderer" with cold accuracy, and I have a hard time shaking it. He was so happy — but between jaw bleeding after playing with a tennis ball, seeing him scratch his eyes that were starting to ache with ulcers again... I know the unbridled happiness came with the reality of his declining health.

Atlas was the best thing that ever happened to that boy. I know Charlie Brown was at least a little disgruntled that his easy-going day-to-day had been interrupted by a chompy puppy, but Atlas brought out the young pup in CB: ripping palm fronds to shreds, playing tug, playing tag, meeting new dogs with confidence and assurance.

I used to get so mad at my mother-in-law for feeding Charlie Brown cinnamon donuts. I wish I'd given him more. Heck, I wish I'd given him more peanut butter. I'm frankly surprised he hadn't died of peanut butter overdose years ago.

Where Charlie's health had limits, we kept going with Atlas. That might mean taking Atlas out to play with a ball or a tug toy, because CB couldn't. It breaks my heart now to think of Charlie at the glass door just watching it happen, all because he physically couldn't play the same. I know he didn't understand that.

We took him out to Park Ave maybe once or twice. I wish it had been more. Truth be told, it was the same as the dog park, though: he was kind of a loner. Loads of people or dogs made him anxious. So while I might idealize the past and wish he had sat at our legs for lunch after lunch at an outdoor thoroughfare, ... I think he would have been miserable. I think he would have rather just curled up at the base of the couch and dozed while we watched a show.

He was so trusting. I could just drag him onto his back and onto my lap for cuddles and a good tummy rub. No complaints.

He looked so gaunt these past few months. I keep looking at earlier photos, and I really didn't realize just how grizzly and drawn he had become lately.

I miss seeing him randomly waiting for me outside the bathroom door — or curled up on the bath mat while I was in the shower, having sneakily nosed the door open and wanting my company while I was rinsing.

For his first few years with us, he was incredibly playful. I've been going through old videos — it's like going outside just blew his mind, and toys were either for cherishing daintily, or thrashing about and throwing to oneself and gnawing. He lost that after a time. He regained it a bit when Atlas joined the party. But it still faded. I'm sure that's inevitable, but it makes me sad to see the early vibrant puppy in those old recordings, and how different he had been in recent months.

[celosiaa]

steady, love (chapter 7)

Summary:

Martin is not doing well.

Jon is there with him through every step.

(because I became obsessed ™ with the idea of Martin dealing with the physical and emotional aftermath of leaving the Lonely)

Chapters 1-7 are up on ao3 under the same username!

(The EYE speaks in glitched text.  Jon’s thoughts are italicized.)

WARNINGS: illness, hospitals, medical talk, addiction mention

(1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8)

P̘ͮnͯͧ͋̏e͓̳̭͗ͩu͔̲ͥ̽̿ͯ̾m̲̑̉̿̏̅ͨ̿̔o̭͚͗̏̉̂̌ͪ̿͗n̪̟̫̩͉̍̓ͤ̈̿̂i͙̥͕̱̯̿ͮ͋̄ͣ̄̀a͎͔̮̻͗͊ͣ̓ͯ̄͛͒͑ ̝͇͍̯̫̺̋ͫͯ̍́ͤ̄ͤS̹͍͓̪̠̙̯̟̥̔ͬ̑̋ͪ̚e̻͉̳͈͕͔̟͍̲̖ͭ̈́̎̿ͦv͈͓̼̲̭͍̖̲͐̒̿͊ͬ̉ͭͅe̻̫̞̬̬̤̯̹ͨ̃ͤͩͤ̉ͦ̈r̪͚̙͖̩͉͓͙ͤ͐̆̽̑̊͒̚i̼̘̖̼͕̫̦̻̩̙̬͐̓ͣ̇̚t̤̙̹͉̭ͭ̄̔ͭ͊̍̓͛͋̚ẙ̼͙̩̻͈͙̈́́̒ͣ̿̋ͣ̚ ͙̺̱̣̪̒ͩ̋͑ͫͤͭ̓̌Î̺̼͓͇̖͖͋͒ͥ̓͋̇ṇ͇͎̓̿̄͛̐̂̽̿̓d͚̤̩̹ͤ̍̈ͭ͐̄͗e̫̺͓̺̤̺͋̒͋̂x̖̟̦͊͂͂̾̓ ͈ͨ̈̾ͣ̿̅Ŝ̗̗̈́̇c͓ͪͧ̓o̭̜re:

aͦ ̀c̤̏l̠ͪi̻͍n͉̿̋i͖ͨ̉c̘ͬͬa̗̖ͅl̹͊͂̈ ͉̊̉̔ẗ̗̥̣ö̻̳̓̄o͒͛̋̈́̚l̘̳͂̃͒ ͎̋͌ͪ͋f̙̖͑ͥ̒̍ọ̼̭ͭ̈̃r͎̥̪̓̏̇ ͖̞͍̐ͫ̀m̱̣̖̤̎ͯͩe̮̫̙ͯ͐̚ͅȧ͉̥ͨ̂ͧͣs̮̟̗͇ͧ͒̅u̥̥͕͔͕̔̾r͙͍̘ͨ̈́͗̂ḯ̠͙̹̘͒̍n̗̐̌̎̋́ͭ̊g͚̝̜̳̬̈́ͦ̂ ̘̗̗̓͂ͭ͊͑t͓͙̯̩͒͌̾͌h̲̳̝͓̊̓̆̚ẻ̥͚͉͙̑͒̑ ̫̤͊ͦͥ͊̄̈́l̮̦̯̏̎̽̈́ͥỉ̟̖̲ͯ̿̓̊k̜̬̮̙ͬ̑͂̂ḛ̭͕̽͊̄ͦͅl͇̺̼̤̿ͦ͒̚ï̠̙̮̪̠̓̎h̯̱͔͖ͭ͗̉ọ͖̝̘̔̊ͮo̳̬̬̩ͧͩ͋d̲̦̩̰̿̍͒ ̲ͨ̀̾͋͋ͩo̤͖̤͋ͨͭ̚f͌ͥ̈͂̄̅̈́ ̞ͨͭͬͭ̚m̮̪̄̆͋̔o̬̰̺̤ͥ̈́r̘̳̈́̔̐ͅt͕̳͇̎̉a͓̤̫͕ͪl̤͍̰͋ͮì̫̠̂͒t͙̥ͧͥẙ̤ͦ̓ ͓͇̺̻f̤́͂r̼͑̏o̦̱̘m͐̓ ̲ͮp̙̀ṉėu͉monia.

A̮ ̞s̬ͨc̥͈ǒ͆r͈͂e̪ͤ̚ ̼ͬͯiͭ̾̑s͙͗̌̓ ̮̪̝͙g̻̿̊͛i̹͛̒ͬv̯̄̿͊ͦe͚̺ͣͨͦn̙̹͂ͤͩ ̠͙̝̊͒b͊̇̔̆̉a̝̰ͧ́ͨs͕͖̝͗̌ḛ̣̥̄ͣḓ̥͌̄ͩ ͚̙͈͊ͯu̘ͪ̋̊̂p͕̥ͫͫ̚ȯ͖̙̒ͬn̗̓ͮ̎̿ ̘̽̈́̊͂t͙̞̻̯̏ḫ͉̰͕͚e̼̫̳̩̤ ͇̐͆͆̅f̓ͭ̄͛ő̜̯̫l̹̉ͪ̂l̩̘̻ͦo͔͕̊w̯̞̃i̇̍̈́n̞̾ͩg͙͒ ̻̊f̻̚a̽c̰t̄ors:

God, shut UP.

Jon buries his face in his hands, the familiar hunger-driven brain fog beginning to settle in.  It’s been nearly thirty minutes since Martin had his x-ray, and he’s been dozing ever since.  Left with nothing but the silence for company, Jon’s head has been spinning with information that he doesn’t want, he doesn’t need, he doesn’t understand.

He rubs at his eyes.

Christ, I am exhausted.

Before he can sink further into his misery, there is a sharp rapping on the door, and Jon is forced to pick up his head and push wearily forward.  Martin’s eyes flutter open along with the door, which reveals Aaron, cheery as ever.

“Hi again, how are we doing in here?” he says, flashing a wide smile in Martin’s direction.

Eyes still half-lidded with sleep, Martin gives yet another thumbs up in response.  At this, Jon cannot help but roll his eyes and sigh, sharing a sidelong look with the doctor.  Aaron returns the look, nodding at Jon in acknowledgment before he continues.

“That good, eh?  Well, the results are in, and—drumroll please…”

With a flourish, he slides Martin’s x-ray in front of the lightboard and points at dense-looking white spots on Martin’s lungs.

“You’ve got a pretty significantly sized infection in your left lung, with a small spot of infection in your right.  Which means that it’s a double pneumonia, and a pretty nasty one at that.  But you knew that already, I’d wager.”

Martin lets out a faint sigh, and nods.  Seeming to sense his growing fatigue, Aaron lowers himself to sitting on a rolling stool, and turns to address both Martin and Jon in a softer voice.

“What happens next is this: we need to get that fever down a bit and get you some antibiotics.  So we’re going to keep you here for a few hours while we get you those, as well as an IV to get you some liquids, and see what happens from there.  If you seem to be doing better, we’ll send you home with oral antibiotics and oxygen, in case you need it.  If not, we’re going to have to send you to the hospital in Aberdeen for treatment tonight, since I can’t keep anyone overnight here.  Does that all make sense?”

Sending a glance towards Martin, Jon squeezes his hand to elicit some sort of response, but he merely continues to stare at the doctor, blinking owlishly.  Jon clears his throat.

“Err, yes—that makes perfect sense, thank you,” Jon replies for him, certain that Martin had not taken in anything that had just been said.

“Happy to help,” Aaron replies, shooting Jon a lopsided grin. “Anything else I can do for you in the meantime?”

Jon takes a moment to think, watching as Martin’s eyes droop closed once again.

Basira.  She’ll want to know.

“Actually, yes—is there a phone I can use here?”

“’Course, just take a right down the hall.  Can’t miss it.”

“Thanks.”

Aaron stands from his stool then, clapping a hand on Jon’s shoulder.

“No trouble!  Isla—Martin’s nurse—will be around to get all that stuff to you.  I’m just a shout away if you need me, alright?”

“Right.  Thank you, Aaron.”

He dims the lights as he exits, closing the door behind him.  Turning his attention back to Martin, still drifting into fever-induced slumber, Jon takes up his left hand again, holding it in both of his own.  Slowly, nervously, he begins working his fingers over Martin’s palm, clumsily imitating Martin’s well-practiced massage technique.  He looks down at his own hands, scowling at the scars peppered across them, faded and pale against the dark of his skin.

My hands are too rough, this is foolish.

He is proven definitively wrong when Martin lets out a soft sigh of contentment, fogging up the mask instantly.

Jon grins from ear to ear and keeps going.

(13:37)

His left knee aches as he walks unevenly toward the hall phone, old injury pulling at him in the wake of half-carrying Martin to the car that morning.

Should have brought my brace.

Martin has been sleeping on and off for the past few hours, rousing only to cough or smile pleasantly at Isla when she comes by to tend to him.  He’s been set up with IV fluids and fever reducers since noon, and his first dose of antibiotics went down with little issue.  Left only with the prospect of waiting to see what happens, Jon finally feels comfortable enough to leave a sleeping Martin in the room for a while to call Basira, grab some coffee, find a bite to eat, and—

No, you will NOT smoke today.  Not an option.

Reaching the phone, Jon hesitates for a moment, mulling over what to say before finally dialing Basira’s number.  She lets it ring out a few times before picking up brusquely.

“Hussain speaking.”

“Basira?  It’s Jon.”

“Jon?  I don’t recognize this number.  Where are you?  What’s going on?” she asks rapidly, voice ticking up in concern.

“I’m calling from the village clinic.  You said to call if Martin got worse, and…well, he has.”

“Shit.  What happened?  Is he alright?”

Jon sighs exhaustedly, running a hand through his hair.  He can’t quite keep his voice from shaking.

“I’m…not sure, yet.  They’re keeping him under observation for the rest of the day to see if he needs to go to the hospital.”

“Jesus.”

“He was running a fever of nearly 40 this morning and sounded like…well, like he couldn’t breathe, so I took him here for help.  Apparently he’s got pneumonia.  He’s fallen asleep, so…I thought I’d call to let you know.”

“Oh, Jesus.”

“Y…yeah.”

Jon’s voice breaks roughly.

“How are you holding up?” she asks, in what might be the gentlest tone Jon has ever heard from her.

A lump forms immediately in his throat, making his eyes sting and his vision swim at the edges.

Pull it together, come on.

Tipping his head back for a moment, he blinks away the tears and takes a damp, shuddering breath that must have been audible on the other end.

“Hey, hey, it’s alright,” she soothes, her voice nearly a whisper.

Jon clutches at the receiver, as if it will somehow bring her closer.

“I-I’m fine, Basira.  Just…just tired.  And worried,” he says, voice thick.

“And hungry?”

“…yes.”

She sighs at this, pulling her phone away from her face for a moment.  Jon braces for her tone to be harsh upon her return, but to his relief, it remains decidedly softened— understanding, even.

“The statements should be there by tomorrow.  So there’s something good, at least.”

“R-right.  Something good.”

Silence falls for a moment before Basira continues, her voice returning to her usual matter-of-fact register.

“He’s going to be alright, Jon.  Even if he does have to go to the hospital.  He’ll recover, and then you can get back to your usual hopeless pining.”

At this, Jon can’t resist huffing out a laugh.

“Well…it’s not so hopeless anymore, actually.”

She gasps in shock.

“You’re joking!  You actually went for it, then?”

“Not-not exactly, it just sort of…happened.  I don’t know exactly how, but—yeah.  It’s…good.  Really good, actually,” he stammers, unable to keep his smile from bleeding into his tone.

“God, listen to you.  You’re like an enamored schoolboy,” she replies fondly.

Jon sputters in mock-indignation, pulling a hearty laugh from Basira.

“Well, I’m happy for you both.  You deserve something lovely, for once.”

“So do you, Basira,” Jon replies softly.

“…thanks.”

They allow the silence hang for a moment.  Basira then exhales sharply before continuing.

“Well, enough of the mushy shit.  Let me know what the doctors say, alright?  And tell Martin I hope he feels better soon.”

“I will.  Call you later, then.”

“You’d better.”

She hangs up on him, as always.

(14:43)

Half-empty coffee and a bagel in hand, Jon walks back to Martin’s room from where he had been standing outside, fiddling with an unlit cigarette for the better part of an hour.  It had taken everything in him, but he had managed not to light it, instead walking back through the clinic doors and deciding to snag some food on the way back to the room.  He cannot help the guilt welling up inside—for his struggle, for the way his hands are shaking, for bringing the cigarettes with him in the first place—

He opens the door to see Martin smiling back at him, and it all fades away.

Cheeks flushed and face pale, Martin is half-sitting in up in bed now, the heat no longer rolling off him with such vicious intensity as before.  His oxygen mask has now been replaced with a nasal cannula, allowing Jon a clear picture of the sunny smile Martin offers so freely.

Something warm tugs at Jon’s heart, and a wide grin spreads across his face.

“Well, well, look who’s got an upgrade,” he says lightly, stepping toward the bedside.

Martin’s own smile widens at this, and he reaches out for Jon’s hand as he sets his coffee and bagel on a nearby table.  Scooting his chair closer before sitting, Jon gently takes Martin’s hand in both of his own, closing his eyes and lowering his lips to the back of Martin’s palm.

3̙̩8͖̓͊.̘̹̎7͖̏.͙

At last.

Jon smiles against Martin’s hand for a moment before looking back up.

“Your temperature’s down,” he says, trying not to sound as dizzy with relief as he feels.

Martin nods quickly before clearing his throat, causing something to catch in his chest.  Turning away at once, he presses his face into his elbow as heavy-sounding coughing erupts from him, causing Jon’s brows to knit closer together in worry with every moment that passes.  Mercifully, the coughs fade away after about fifteen seconds.  Martin flops back gracelessly against the pillows, panting and exhausted.

And still smiling.

“Lucky to have you,” he rasps, lifting a hand to Jon’s cheek.

Jon leans closer, expression lightening, and brings up a hand to press against Martin’s palm where it rests.

“Lucky to have you,” he whispers, gazing intensely into the warm hazel of Martin’s eyes.

They remain like this for several seconds, neither wanting to violate the sanctity of this moment.  Martin then inhales sharply, mouth open to say something—before snapping it shut again, looking suddenly nervous.  Jon’s brows furrow instinctively.

“What is it, darling?” he asks, head tilting to the side of Martin’s palm.

The corners of Martin’s mouth curl up at the term of endearment, pulling a deep flush to his cheeks and ears.  Looking up again, he determinedly matches the intensity of Jon’s gaze.

“I…I love, you, Jon.”

He inhales more confidence.

“I love you.  Just…so much.”

Every nerve in Jon’s body is on fire.  Vacantly, he knows that his mouth is hanging open, his eyes wide, his face flushing with heat—but for a moment, he cannot move, nor breathe, nor speak.

Martin LOVES me.

Martin loves ME.

At last, he regains some measure of control, managing to keep hold of Martin’s left hand while shifting his weight to sit on the edge of his bed.  Reaching out his other toward his face, he cups Martin’s cheek with a still-shaking hand.  Their faces are just inches apart now, hovering, begging to be pressed together.

“I love you too, Martin Blackwood.  More than…more than I know how to say.”

Martin smiles then, wide and charming, before craning his neck up to brush his lips against Jon’s, questioning.

“Say it like this, then?” he whispers.

“Gladly.”

Their lips meet in a gentle blush of a thing, hesitant and brief, before deepening into a warm, unhurried kiss.  Martin’s hands move into Jon’s hair as they find the perfect rhythm, gentle and passionate and utterly their own.  When he manages to pull small noises of pleasure from Martin, Jon grins against his lips in pride before pulling him back in for more.

After nearly a minute, Martin urgently pushes back against Jon’s chest.  Immediately breaking contact, Jon pushes himself away frantically, careful not to touch him, panicked at the thought that he’d done something wrong.

“M-Martin, I’m so sorry, what ha—”

He is cut off as Martin pitches forward violently, coughing deeper than Jon has ever heard—as thick grey fog pours from his mouth, his eyes, his nostrils.

“God, Martin, here, here—”

Jon braces him by the shoulders as he leans forward, chest rumbling in desperation to clear the way for oxygen.  Guilt floods Jon as he feels the force of Martin’s convulsions beneath his hands.

Why did you kiss him?  Damn it damn it damn it

Dense fog is filling the room now, and Jon is struck with terror at the thought of anyone entering the room to see this.  The tendrils have nearly reached the door, could snake beneath it at any moment—

Tͮ̀h̥ͫ̎̂ë̗̹̯̜y̬͔͖̝̅̇ͧ ̯͙͈͖͙̈́͛̚w̮̺̻̜̔̈́ͬͩͮi̙̠̙͍̤̒ͩ̂̽l̺̣̣͕̩̥̟̈́̔ͨl̯̺̩̳̰͂̍̉̈́͌ ̼̼̬̟̞̘̏̈́̌͑ñ̩̞̲̯̤̅̉ͮo͓̝̠͌ͤ͊͗̿ͤṭ̯͂̈ͥͧ̂͆ ̳̦̣̃ͬ͒c͓ͥ̍͛̃o̔ͪ̈́m̓ͮe.

Jon pays for this knowledge with pain, every Mark on his body throbbing furiously.

Breathe it in, and let it go.

Breathe, let go.

Focus.

At long last, Martin’s hacking subsides, leaving him utterly spent and hunched forward on the bed.  Jon begins rubbing slow circles on his back with aching hands, calming him as he finally manages to regain his breath.  After a few moments, Jon gently guides him to lie back against the pillows.  Tears leak out of the corners of Martin’s eyes as he does so, and Jon’s heart clenches briefly with sympathy before Martin begins to laugh, a toothy grin spreading across his face.

“Wh…what is it, Martin?” he asks, confused.

“I think…I think that was the last of it, Jon,” he says, voice wobbling.

Jon inhales sharply, taking Martin’s hand.

“What? Really?”

“Y-yeah, really.  I can feel it, I…I think it’s really gone.  I’m not…I’m not Lonely, anymore.”

More tears spill over Martin’s cheeks as he resumes his weak laughter.  His own eyes brimming, threatening to cascade over a growing smile, Jon cups Martin’s face in his hands, wiping gently at his tears with his thumbs.  He then moves upwards, stroking a hand through Martin’s soft curls, watching as the last remaining bits of the fog dissipate forever.

A few minutes later, Martin smiles up at him, playfully swatting at his forearm.

“Let’s not do that again until I can breathe properly, though.”

At this, Jon laughs in earnest, before pressing his lips tenderly against Martin’s forehead.

I love him I love him I love him I love him

And he loves me.

He loves me.

#tma #tma fic #tma sickfic #jonmartin #tw illness #tw addiction #time for Peak Softness (TM) #my writing

[drumbanger]

Paradise City part 4

Summary: A boring town with nothing to do. Will the blue eyed drummer save you from it?

Chapter summery: You go to the boys show and you and Roger get drunk together.

Word cound: 1,7 k 

A/N: I havn´t proof read it, so there will probebly be a bunch och grammatcal errors.

Warnings: Mentions on smut, Alcohol

You walked in to the pub just five minutes before the band would start up. You went staright up to the bar, but before you had the chance to order anything, sombody tapped your shoulder, causing you to turn around. Brian was standing there offering you a weak smile.

“´bout to start, wanna come backstage instead of sitting back here”? he asked with an little amount of stress in his voice. You just nodded a smile and followed him as he began walking towards the stage.

When you got there, Brian excused himself, needing to do some set up last minute. There was a small couch next to the stage wich you took a seat on, waiting for the show to start. Just minutes later the band walked past you on their way to the stage, greeting you quickly, but you got a quick kiss on the cheek from Roger wich made your cheeks heet up, hoping no one noticed.

Roger sat down at his drumset while Freddie walked up to the mic.

“Welcome beautiful ladies and gentlemen, we´re Queen and we are here tonight to give you a little treat. This first song, we call The Night Comes Down”!

You now understood their name were Queen. You liked it, short but classy. Roger started hitting his drums. You remembered he was good, but not this good. Then the bass work started, wich really impressed you. God they were good, you felt so bad that only such few people had heard them yet.

The rest of the show went on like this, they playing what looked effortless for them and you being blown away by them. 

When the set was finished, all the boys walked staight to their waterbottles, standing at the side of the stage, close to were you were sitting.

Roger walked up to you moments later, laying down in the couch and putting his head in your lap. He had his eyes closed in exhaustion, you looked down on him, studing his beautiful features, he really was beautiful, and god you wanted to reach your head down and kiss him, but you didn´t want to give i just that easy. 

You brushed some hair our of his face and he hummed at the sansation. You softly caresed his face and he opened his eyes, looked up at you and gave you one of the softest purest smilses you´d ever seen. You reurned it and then leaned your head back against the couch and closed your eyes, enjoying the moment.

You didin´t know how long you had been laying there, when Freddie came up to you, softly asking if you wanted to come witch to the bar for a drink, like he was carfull waking someone up.

“We´ll be out soon” Roger answered hazy. You were pleased with his answer. You didn´t really feel like getting up just yet.

Freddie walked away and you made yourself comfortable again, when Roger quietly spoke up

“Can I tell you something” Roger asked, his eyes still closed.

You just hummed your response.

“I´m very glad I met you”

A smile crept upon your face as he said that

“I´m really glad I met you too Roger” the smile still on your face as you said so.

Roger got up from the couch and you opened you eyes

“wanna go out there now”? he held his hand out to you with a smile on his face. You took his hand, got up and Roger led you down to the bar where you ordered two shots each. But instead of drinking them at once, you made a game out of it.

“okay, so we´ll each ask each other a question and when you´ve answered the question, you take the a shot” you explained “I´ll go first” you said.

“go on then”

“how many people have you slept with and who were they” you smiled at your own question

“wow okay, well I think its about twenty- twentiyfive. And they were my two girlfriends, a few i went on some dates with and girls i picked up after shows and at bars” He told and drowned his first shot

“same question for you” he said after he put down his glass.

“seven people. Three of them boyfriends, two of them friends and two one night stands” you said and drowned your shot.

“how did it happen with your friends”?

“well one of them, we got really drunk at home and it just happend, the other one, well we were just haning out and figured we´d just try it out” you drownded your second drink “t´was a question” you said before Roger objected.

“But wow though. Are you still friends with these people”?

“yeah, of couse, she´s still my roomate and i´m still great friends witch the other guy”

“you and your roomate had sex? and it´s never akward, and she´s a she?”

“yup, we had sex, its not akward, why would it be? She is a girl, why?”

“just wonderin´” he said and took his second shot. You both orderd two new shots each, both feeling effected by the buzz and wanting more of it. 

The shots came and you drowned both of them together.

Secods later Brandy(you´re a fine girl) by Looking Glass started blasting trough the speakers of the pub and you jumped up from your chair

“I love this song! Roger pleaaaasee come dance with me!”

“you know i don´t do that” 

“you regreted not coming dancing with me last time, yeah? Do you really want to do that again?” you smirked at at him. 

“that is very true” he said as he got up from his chair. You took his hand and you two stumbled out on the dancefloor like a couple of drunk buffoons. You started dancing like fools and laughing your asses of. The alcohol got the best of you and you turned around an pressed your body up aganist his, he was pretty drunk himself and put his hands on your hips and swayed his body with yours. You knew you were looking like a couple of idiots but you didn´t care, you were having a great time. 

Then out of nowhere you both burst into laughter. You were out of breath and had to cling on each other for support. 

You then decided you´d find the other members of the band. You got out of the big crowd that was the dancefloor and went loking for the remainence of Queen. It didn´t take very long to find them, they were all sitting in a red leather booth along with two other girls wich you just could assum were groupies trying to get in to one, or more, of the bandmembers pants. And Roger certainly caught their interest when you two joined the table, but neither of you noticed that, being very giggly and dazed still. 

When you sat down you saw a full glass of some sort of liquid, not knowing whos it was, and grabbed it, drank half of its contains and handed the rest to roger sitting very close next to you

“thanks, love” he slurred while atempting to be cheeky. After he drowned the drink he turned to you, you faces only inches apart. 

“can I ask you something?” Roger spoke

“ofcourse you can daarniing!” 

“I´m not snooping but tell me how you had sex with that friend of yours that was a girl, I want to know how it workes then”

“well, it´s just like the kind of sex you´d have but like before you´d put it in, like you use your mouth, fingers and toys if you would want that, we didn´t, I mean ´m  no expert, iv´e only done it that one time”

“and it got you of properly?”

“defenitly”

“is it better?”

“oh i think that really depends on who it´s with”

“do you ever feel like doing it again?”

“yeah, sometimes” you said as you reached for a glass of a trey a waitress just put down and drowned it and Roger did the same.

“stop stealing our drinks, will ya” Brian turned to face you

“sorry Mr. May” Roger rolled his eyes and you giggled at him.

Thats when roger felt a hand on his thigh, first he thought it was your hand, but then he realised your hands were still on the table. He looked to his side and noticed it was one of the groupies whos´ hand was laying dangerously high on his thigh. He looked up at her and she batted her eyelashes at him obviously trying to seduce him.

“Hi” the girl cooed at him. Roger state of mind was very hazy at the moment and right now he was just really confused.

“Do you want sex, is that it?” Roger asked the her

“Mhmm” she girl nodded and moved her hand ever further up his thigh.

“Well in that case, this is your lucky day because I´ve heard this bird right here is a marvelous shag” he said tryning not to laugh while pointing at you.

“Indeed I am” you said, who had been watching the interaction “you interested?” you giggled and that turned in to a huge laugh fit beetween you and Roger. But the girl just ignored that and moved her hand impossiby higher up Rogers´ thigh, which did not go unnoticed by you. 

“Hey! Don´t do that. thank you” You exclaimed while you pushed the girls hand of Rogers´ thigh. The girl gave up and moved her attention to Brian, Who was in a converstion with John and one other guy you hadn´t seen before.

“Is sombody jelous?” Roger purred and you rolled your eyes

“Am not” you defended. 

“Oh , how the tables have turned” Roger smugly smirked.

“Yeah, Yeah, who even cares” 

“I do. And you are jelous” he teased. You just rolled your eyes but eventually it turned in to a yet another fit of giggles.

“Let´s get out of here shall we?” you suggested still giggling a bit. Roger smirked up at you and nodded. You got out of the booth not minding saying goodbye to the others. You two stumbled trough the pub together, with Rogers´ hand on the small of your back. 

You had just gotten to the door and were about to open it, when sombody beat you to it and opened the door from outside.

Michael.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Thank you so much for reading (or not)? :)

Please give feedback<3

#roger taylor #roger taylor fanfic #roger taylor imagine #roger taylor angst #roger taylor fluff #roger taylor x reader #roger taylor x y/n #roger taylor x you #roger taylor smut #Queen #Brian May #freddie mercury #John Deacon #fanfiction #bohemian rhapsody #paradise city

[reeree1500]

The Return- Part 10

Disclaimer: YALL IM SO SO SO SORRY.😭😭 I have been horrible and not updated this story for at least a month.😬 I can explain though... University has been kicking my ass and between that and my co-op placement at a law firm.😅 Ive had absolutely no time to do anything😩 BTW IVE MISSED YALL SO MUCH❤️And Ive read all your messages and asks. And yes my mental health is now better and y'all are so understanding and supportive 💕 honestly could not have asked for a better group of individuals☺️❤️

Part 1 part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 part 8 part 9 Part 11 

Anyways onto the storyyyyy.....

Warnings: ANGSTY AF (kinda figured out that im probably a smut and angst writer at this point🤷🏽‍♀️), sucky ass grammar and spelling like always, my cliche imagination and the fact that Im probably a horrible human being😬😩 Also made it extra long cuz I felt baddd 

PLEASE DONT KILL ME FOR THIS ONE😬

Taglist: @yanii-the-hippie @oceans-daughter-3 @peaceisadirtyword @laketaj24 @camatsuru @youbloodymadgenius @calum-hoodwinked-me @cutegyrl927 @wuxiesalt @readsalot73 @cindy-exo @affection-rabbit @amy8220 @mel0nch0ly @queenofallthyfandoms @limbo-limbo-limbo @ragnarssonsbitch @supernaturalvikingwhore @ifihadwings128 @paintballkid711 @jenny-the-lover @funmadnessandbadassvikings @blonddnamedhandz @hallowed-heathen @pinkrockstar19 @ivarthethiccness

Sorry if I missed any of you💕 Lemme know if you want to be tagged. Also requests are open, and I’ve got a ton of them to do and finish. Hopefully Ill be able to post them soon enough

Arthur’s POV

“Arthur please! Open the door my love, I know what it may seem like to you, but I assure you that its not.” (Y/n) pleaded from the other side. I sat down on the mattress in our chamber contemplating whether or not it was true. Should I believe what my wife so desperately is trying to reassure me off. Or should I stick with my gut feeling and tell her how I have felt for the last 4 years. Her constant pounding on the door finally gets to me and I make my way to open it. “I wish to be left alone at the moment (y/n).” Her arms circle around my waist and I can feel her face wetting by back with tears. “Arthur please, talk to me. Why have you run off. You know that I love you. I do not want him, all he does is bring me pain and you take that away. So please, talk to me!” (y/n) murmurs into my back. As much as it pains me to do so I pry her hands off of me and sit us down on the bed. All I do is long for her touch, but this is not okay. I cannot keep feeling this way and go on pretending that I could have ever stood a chance against him. “(y/n), look at me. I love you and I always will. But its evident that you love him. and I honestly can say that I know I will never stand a chance against him, because the thought of you possibly running back to him has always been on my mind since the day we got married.” 

Her eyes showed so much pain that confessing this felt as if I was driving a knife through her heart. “Arthur, I love you. What can I do to show you that. Yes I confess that I was in love with him, but that was long ago and I have left it in the past in order to build a future with you. Whom I love and who I share and will continue to share beautiful children with. So please don't shut me out, Arthur.” She says leaning our foreheads together and holding my face in her gentle hands. “Ok, however I want to be able to process things by myself. So I have decided to have the guest room across the hall prepared only until I figure things out.” With out giving her a chance to fight back, I place my lips on hers and savour the kiss as if it were our last. Meeting her eyes was something I wanted to avoid as I knew that just looking at her broken expression would make me change my mind. I hastily make my way out of the room, but sneak a quick glance over my shoulder to find my wife staring off into the direction where I once sat. With tears streaming down her eyes...

Your POV

What had I done? Why was I such fool to not see what my husband was clearly going through? Millions of questions rushed into my mind about how to go about this situation. I loved Arthur, I was clear on that. But he spoke the truth, there was something in me that could not let Ivar go and it took hurting my husband and Ivar to figure that out. As I sulked I forgot about the doctor whom I had asked to see me earlier. I was having really bad stomach pains and my breasts were more tender then they had ever been. So I wanted to make sure that I was not sick, as that would have been the last thing I needed on my plate at the moment. “My Queen, are you alright? Do you wish to push back this appointment, I dont mind coming by later when you're better.” The doctor spoke from behind me. “Yes, it seems so. Ill let the servant girl know if I need you doctor. Im sorry for the inconvenience.” “Nonsense your majesty, it is my pleasure to serve you.” With a bow the doctor retreats from the room and Im left to my own thoughts once again...

----------------------------------

“(y/n), wake up... its seems that you fell asleep on the floor. Come on I’ll help you up.” Upon hearing Hvitty’s comforting voice my eyes flutter open and I cant help the tears that song come down my face like a cascade. “(y/n)! are you alright are you hurt anywhere? Why are you crying?” Hvitserk’s eyes scan my face and my body looking for the source of my pain, which is held in my heart, but he’ll never know that. “Arthur... He...” I try to find the words to say. “What! What did he do! Did he hurt you? I swear ill kill him!” With that Hvitserk tries to let me go and run out the door, but somehow I manage to stop him. “Hvitserk, No! He didn't hurt me. I hurt him... He believes that Im in love with Ivar, and I fear that their maybe some truth to it...” I say just above a whisper, with my head held low. “(Y/N), Ive known that since before you were married. It was obvious, but I would never say anything to you because I found that it was best if I kept such observations to myself, before I found out about your father.” Lifting my head and staring directly at him, I move my head to the side with a puzzling look. “What do you mean about my father, Hvitserk?” Hvitserk now mirrors the same lost look that I have on my face. “I thought thats why you and Ivar had gotten together, because Ragnar’s not your father...”

----------------------------------------------

Ivar’s POV

“Aghhhh!”Is the sound that comes out of my gritted teeth when the medicinal herbs are placed on my face. “That hurts like a bitch, get out! Ill do this myself if I have to. GO!” I yell at the servant girl who tried to cleanse and tend to the cuts on my face. “Ivar,  please let the servants tend to you. I still cannot believe that Arthur punched you in the face. Hehehe, you deserved it though, how could you question the paternity of his children and not expect him to want to kill you?” Bjorn laughs as he chugs the rest of his drink down. “Well, if you actually cared about your children and the heir to your throne, you’d also be quite upset to find a Christian King claiming to be their father. Those children are mine! And its pretty evident, just look at Marjorie. She's my spitting image.” I snarl at him as the anger begins to rise in me again. “Ivar, thats your mistake and why you’ll never get (y/n) back. You believe that everything should be yours. And that people are things you can govern over, but they're not. Because those are children. And yes they may be yours, but you cannot take away what they have known because you want to be selfish.” He says with a stern look on his face, whilst getting up from his chair and making his way to the door. “Now get ready and fix yourself we have a intimate dinner to attend to with MY sister and the love of your life.” Unbeknownst to us, there was Freydis on the balcony listening to our whole conversation. And little did I know that it would come to be the thing I regretted the most.

At the dinner I notice (y/n) sit on the opposite side of the table from Arthur. This wouldn't have affected me if it wasn't for the look on both of their faces. They seemed distraught and broken. Arthur masked it well, but (y/n) was an open book for all of us to know exactly how she felt at that moment. Not much talking happened, besides Marjorie and Erik shouting at each other on who was better at riding. They reminded me a lot of myself and all I wanted was to tell them the truth, that they were my children and that they would go back to Kattegat with me to learn about the true gods and not the fable that had been told to them about their so called ‘God’.” “(Y/n) are you alright, you do not seem quite like yourself tonight.” Bjorn states with a concerned look that we all share. Even Arthur looks a bit concerned, but his body language makes it seem as if he is alright and nothing is wrong. “Sarah, could you please put Marjorie and Erik to bed? Its getting late for them and they have their lessons early in the morning.” She says with a stern and cold look in her (e/c) eyes. “Su...sure your majesty. “ At that Bjorn stands up as if to accompany Sarah, but is quickly stopped by (y/n)’s icy glare and venomous words. “Sit your ass down.” At that we all look astonished, but Hvitserk only stares at her with sadness and what seems to be sympathy. He must know why she is like this then. 

Bjorn slowly sits back down on the table. A shocked look graces his face, as he cannot comprehend why she is acting this way towards her beloved older brother. “How long.” Is all she grits out through her teeth. “What do you mean, (y/n)?” My eyes meet Hvitserk’s own and the realization dawns upon me. She knows...

--------------------------

Your POV

“Stop with the bullshit! I cannot take anyone else lying to me!” I scream as I bang my hands against the table, stunning everyone in sight. “How long did you know that Ragnar was not my father! How long have you kept the truth from me! How long have you known that Athelstan was my father!” I could careless about everyone staring at me as if I was a mad woman. I had been lied to my whole life. All I had known had been a lie, and the people who I trusted the most in this world had been the ones keeping it a secret from me. “(Y/N)... I..I’ve know since the moment you were born. But father had sworn me into secrecy and I could not break a promise. This doesn't change anything though. You are still my sister and you will always be.” Bjorn says in a haste as tries to come closer to me, but I step back and move as far back as I can. “Did you know? Tell me! Ivar did you know that we were not siblings!” Ivar didn't even have to answer. I knew from the look in his eyes that he too had been lying to me. 

“I knew.” Arthur says staring right at me. “I knew that you weren't his daughter and I knew that Ivar wasn't your brother. But I kept that information from you because all I wanted to do was have you by my side. I’m sorry, for the pain I have caused you (y/n). Im sorry for being selfish and not telling you the truth, but I now see that I was wrong and as of tomorrow you are free to go back to your country. I promise that your title and lands will not be taken from you or from the children. May they be mine or his. But I cannot go on with this facade anymore.” Arthur says in the most calm demeanour as he stands up and comes to me. “You hypocrite! How dare you make me feel like shit for harbouring feelings for Ivar when you knew all along and knew that my whole life was a lie.” I scream as I run at him and slap him across the face. But before I can get another punch in I feel a strong grip holding me from behind. From the shocks and the utter feeling in my stomach I knew it could have only been Ivar. As I try desperately to release from his vice grip, my whole world comes crashing down when Sarah enters the room. With blood all over her.

“Your highnesses...Erik.... he.. he..” She tries to say through her shock. “What! What is wrong with my son!” Ivar, Arthur and I scream at the same time. “He.. he’s dying!”

------------------------------------------------

We all simultaneously run after Sarah towards the doctors quarters. Ivar with his brace on, manages to run faster than all of us and busts the doors wide open. if I wasn't so worried about my son or upset about the fact they all knew Ragnar wasn't my father, I would've been impressed. “What are you doing! Get away from my son!” At that Ivar rushes towards the doctor who is bleeding Erik out. Grabbing him by the collar he slams the doctor on the wall and his sclera go into bluish hue, showing that he is in danger of breaking a bone. “Ivar stop it! Let the man go, he is just trying to help.” “Help my ass! I will not let you harm my son, do you understand me! I will not let you harm him!” At that Ivar lets the doctor go, but not without staring him down. And the doctor looking like he is about to shit himself. Rushing to Erik’s side I notice something strange. The colour of his skin is now fading and his eyes have bags under them. But what hits me the most is the memory of Uncle Rollo teaching me about poison. “He doesn't need to be bled, he needs medicine. He’s been poisoned...” 

“Mama! What is wrong with Erik! He will be okay right? He has to be okay!” Marjorie begins to say as she shakes with fear. Before Arthur or I could say something to console her, Ivar bends down and takes her hands in his. “Marjorie, listen to me. Your brother is a fighter and so are you. After all were related aren't we?” Ivar says as he lifts her chin. “Yes..I suppose that we are. Is it true what they say though? Are you our father?” At that Ivar turns to me looking towards me for permission. At this point I think to myself how hard it was to learn my whole life had been a lie and that I would not want that for my children, so I nod. “Yes, Marjorie I am your father. And no your mother is not my sister. It was something that we had to say because she needed to be kept safe.” He says ever so calmly. “Safe from who?”She questions “From my mother. Your grandmother.”

Cough*Cough* Spurts of blood cover me in seconds. My attention becomes focused in on my son again. “Where is the damn antidote! Please someone hurry!” At that Hvitserk runs into the room with a small green vial. “Here take this it should help him. Lagertha gave it to me before her and father left. Something about it would come in handy some day. Here.” Shoving the vial in my hands I open it quickly and lift Erik’s head. “Drink this Erik. It should help you, my darling. Please be strong, I know you're scared, but you’ll be alright ok. Everything will be ok.” I say through tears. Today had been the worst day by far. “Mira... please help my son. I know you're always with me, but please help me now. Pray for my son and ask God to save him.”

----------------------------------------

A few hours had gone by and nobody had moved from the room. Arthur sat on the chair next to the bed with his elbows on his knees, looking straight and focused in on Erik. Bjorn and Hvitserk sat by the fireplace and were wetting some towels so that we could place them atop Eriks head. I sat on the bed next to my son and caressed his beautiful face hoping for a miracle. I had dismissed Sarah and told her to take Marjorie with her, but she would not budge. Sarah left, but Marjorie stayed and sat in Ivars lap asking him if Erik would pull through. Ivar was sweet to answer as best as he could, and I could tell that he truly cared for his children even if his demeanour wasn't the greatest. I knew that deep in my heart I would have to let him get to know them, but it still hurt especially knowing that he now was married. “Wait, where is Freydis? I haven't seen her since yesterday.” I say looking towards Ivar. “I dont know earthier to be honest, she's probably looking at some damn flowers anyway. Its best if she's far away anyway.” “Why would you say that about your wi-” “she's not my wife, at least not yet. Were not actually married, (y/n). I just said that to piss you off.” Taking a deep breath I go to stand up from the bed in order to fetch a bucket of water and some new cloths. Instead I end up on the floor cradling my belly, with a burning sensation in my chest and blood pouring out from my mouth. “(Y/n)! Mama!” I can hear the shouts around me. “Fetch the doctor! Now hurry!” The voices around me begin to fade and not before long I can feel myself drifting away.

“My baby... Save my baby...” And with that everything turns pitch black...

#vikings #vikings history channel #vikings fanfiction #vikings fandom #ivar #ivar the boneless #vikings ivar #ivar lothbrok #ivar x reader #ivar the god #bjorn #Bjorn Ironside #bjorn lothbrok #bjorn x reader #Hvitserk #vikings hvitserk #hvitserk x reader #hvitty #Ragnar Lothbrok #ragnarsdottir #ragnar x lagertha #lagertha #requests are open #arthur pendragon #arthur #king arthur

[porchwood]

Hi just so I understand cause i keep waiting for it and it doesnt seem likely to happen have you kind of fallen out of love with wtm? and everlark in general tbh? cause ive been following you for a while now and you always had lil quotes and pictures and things that reminded you inspired you whatever it was about katniss and wtm and now alllll it is is gadge i followed you because personally i love what you did with everlark and im just wondering if thats gone and not foreseeable any time soon?

I’ve been thinking a lot about how to answer this… It’s afair question - to a point. If you’re more of a drop-in person (like me) thanlive-on-the-dash, coming back to find my blog awash in Gadge might have beenquite upsetting. There are several reasons for the current state of things:

1. Life has been driving me into the ground since December26, 2013. (Yes, going on six straight years.) If you were a WtM reader from thebeginning, you may recall that I was pretty energetic and prolific in 2012-2013.Oh, there were tough times, but nothing like what started on the aforementioneddate (a car accident where I was in the “bystander” vehicle and it still got totaled)and has continued relentlessly ever since. Sometimes adversity leads to greatcreativity and sometimes it turns you into a depressed, exhausted, reclusivelump, and the past 5+ years have seen periods of both from me. These past 18months have been exceptionally awful (and expensive), resulting in very littlewriting at all, about any pairing.

2. Writing WtM takes a lot out of me. I don’t know whether thisis common knowledge or not, but it’s the gospel truth. I love that world, Ilove that version of Everlark, but every chapter requires so much hard work, itmakes me tired just to think of it. Not to mention, over the past couple of chaptersEverlark have been pushing for more intimacy than the plot/timeline allows, andso I’ve been struggling with how I want to handle that. Do I fight them andstick to the plan? (I can’t advance the timeline for several reasons.) Do I tryto figure out a cheat for them? They’ve got minds of their own and have changedmy plans multiple times, but this is something they genuinely can’t have, and Ihave to fight them on it. ☹ Which is sad, frustrating, and exhausting.

3. I’m a multi-pairing shipper, and have been from about 3chapters into WtM. Which means that my Everlark fics almost always feature asecondary pairing (or more than one), and sometimes I’ll get a plot bunny for afic about a pairing other than Everlark. Most writers in the THG fandom exclusivelywrite their OTP, whatever the plot bunny, but I find that some plot bunnies don’tfit Everlark as well as they do another pairing. (This is why I’ll never write aBeauty and the Beast Everlark fic unless Katniss is the “Beast,” if you will.)

4. The Everlark fandom is…tricky. I’ve never fit in there. Idon’t write Everlark the way the majority of fans see them (except for Peetabeing “sweet,” I guess), I hated the movies (I refuse to see MJ 1 or 2), and I’vemanaged to really rub some people the wrong way over the years –unintentionally, and for a variety of reasons – all of which leaves me feeling kinda down about Everlark in general. Don’t misunderstand me: I love Everlarkand WtM, but it’s really isolating to be this sad little island of unpopularopinions and unwelcome side-ships. That’s the part I really wish I could makeyou understand. For six years I’ve had Christopher Plummer in my head saying, “You’llnever be one of them,” and he’s so, cruelly, right. I want to cry every time Ithink of Embracing the Season (my E-rated Everlark modern AU oneshot for Lovein Panem - lots of daring for me!) because I poured heart and soul into that andit still wasn’t the Everlark that people wanted.

5. About a year and a half ago (when Strawberry Time reallytook off of its own accord) I participated in Gadge Day 2017, working my buttoff to find and schedule (and tag) over 100 carefully chosen Gale/Madge/Gadge aestheticposts, and for lack of a better way to say it: it turned on my Gadge-dar. After that, thosekinds of posts just leapt out at me whenever I had a chance to scroll, and forseveral months I wasn’t sure what to do with that. With a little encouragementfrom @ghtlovesthg, I came up with #march madgeness – wherein I turned my Tumblrinto Madge/Gadge-land for one month, and it was a blast. (Side-stepping Gadgefor a moment: Madge is a highly underappreciated and underused character,especially in fic/on Tumblr and I love splashing the dash with Madge-love.) Thenext month I launched a run of pent-up Everlark posts (i.e., regularprogramming), but I missed my Madge, so I instituted #madge monday – one day aweek when I could splash the dash with Madge/Gadge. At every juncture I gavepeople tags to block if they didn’t want to see this content (though I stillget unfollows every time I post, alas). I participated in last summer’s THG Reread– on the fringe of it, but my posts (reblogs and meta) were strongly Everlark-focusedagain during that time. So there’s definitely still been Everlark on my blog,but if you’re just dropping in (or for that matter, glancing at my archive), you’regoing to see a majority of Madge/Gadge.

6. Frankly, Gadge is fun. It’s a completely different dynamicthan Everlark, with less pressure to create something transcendent, and whenthe chips are down, I’m more likely to work on something that isn’t my six-years-runningopus. This spring, in the midst of lots of awfulness, I finally wrote a piecethat I’ve had in my head for years – The Best Part of Waking Up – with a differentpairing featured in each drabble “chapter,” including Gadge, Luka/Johanna (whoI’ve been wanting to put out there for AGES) and Jack/Raisa. I haven’t beenable to write quickly in years, and I think I finished those three “chapters”in about two days, maybe three. I completed the Raisa drabble in a couple ofhours and I consider it one of the best things I’ve ever written. (Honestly, ifa pairing was going to topple Everlark in my heart, it would be Jack/Raisa, i.e.,Mr. Everdeen/Mrs. Mellark. I love them to distraction.) Once upon a time I could drabble/sprint Everlark too – notoften, but I could manage it. Maybe it’ll happen again someday, but for thetime being, when I write in quick eager bursts, it’s usually about aside-pairing.

7. Because I just need to say it: about a year ago, I set up a secondary Tumblr for almost all my side-interests and ships outside of THG. When I first joined Tumblr, porchwood was just a fun page where I posted whatever struck my fancy (pretty things, funny things, whatever I liked), and over the next few years, I honed it into a pretty “writer’s notebook” for WtM and my other THG fics (related quotes, aesthetic posts, writing check-ins, etc.). When Star Wars: The Force Awakens came out, I shared a handful of posts pertaining to a new ship (not a new direction for my blog or writing, just sharing my excitement) and it was made very clear to me that people didn’t want to see that content on my page. So when I started watching Voltron: Legendary Defender, I had a sneaking suspicion people wouldn’t want to hear about those ships either. So I started an entirely new Tumblr for that content, and every so often I accidentally post something to the wrong page, which I immediately correct in horror, but people still unfollow. Point being: this blog is THG (and a few personal life updates) ONLY, with a pretty consistent aesthetic. I hide literally everything else that I’m interested in so you don’t have to be bothered by it. Is it really so unacceptable for me to have side-ships (complementary to the main pairing, not threatening to them) in the same universe??

8. Believe it or not, I’ve been working on WtM all along,just not making any massive strides. I tried to chip away at the current chapterduring Camp Nanowrimo last July, and it was a disaster. I thought joining awriting group would be helpful, but I didn’t realize that Camp Nano is basicallya lot of writing sprints in which you try to churn out as many words aspossible, which you then report to your “cabin” – and that’s the onlyinteraction with your fellow writers. I can’t write like that anymore (seeabove) and especially not when it comes to WtM, so I got discouraged veryquickly and sort of drifted away. I reattempted Nano on my own in April and wrotealmost 15K words, but in that instance I was really just using the Nano platform toset and reach a goal (which I didn’t ☹ ); I wasn’t in a cabin and didn’t interact with anyother writers, except my friend @ghtlovesthg, who read the finished portion.

9. I want to finish this dang chapter so much, and frankly, theonly way that’s going to happen is if life gets a little better and I holemyself up with my laptop for hours on end for weeks at a time – and somemagical being comes to support/cheer/comfort me while I do so. It’s currentlysitting at about 25K and I anticipate it will need to be at least double that,which is beyond ridiculous, but that’s the nature of WtM. The chapters are asmany words as it takes.

TL, DR: I still love Everlark and I’m still working on WtM, but my life has been extremely difficult for a very long time and I don’t have a great Everlark lifeline. Gadge and all my other ships are fun, and most of the Gadge you see on my Tumblr is aesthetic stuff for themed days/months/occasions. Anything non-THG goes on my sideblog.

#queued #i'm sorry to be snappy #i understand the confusion #and i'm not happy that i'm not finishing wtm either #ask #gade #side-ships #anon

[ilovemygaydad]

Friends in Dark Places [ch 4]

pairing: eventual moxiety, eventual logince, background eventual remile, background eventual remy/emile/deceit

WARNINGS: food mentions, swearing, mentions of injury, anxiety, roman’s kind of a dick but he feels bad, a single flirtation, possibly something else

tag list: @hufflepuffgirl01 @cocobearthe4th @cas-is-a-hunter@band-be-boss-blog @theunoriginaldaisy

a/n: so i have to repost all of these in a different format! yay fucking me!!!! please consider reblogging these if you’re a fan of this series because it’s all fucked up now

first - previous - next - companions

consider buying me a coffee (please)

-

Roman didn’t know what he’d expected to see when he walked into Virgil’s hospital room, but it certainly wasn’t that. Patton was sitting in the bed with the pretty much stranger, eyes closed, arms wrapped around him, and chin resting on his head. Virgil was asleep, which, after the day’s events, wasn’t very surprising. He could hear Patton softly humming a son that he couldn’t exactly place.

“Hey, Pat! We brought you some spaghetti from the cafeteria and a gift for Virgil.” Roman made sure to keep his voice quiet, not wanting to disturb the sleeping teen just feet away. Patton opened his eyes and smiled an incredibly bright smile. He motioned towards the over-the-bed table tray thing (Roman couldn’t think of a single word to describe the atrocity on wheels). Roman gave Pat his dinner while Logan set to organizing the luggage they’d brought with them.

“Did we have any Comm Arts homework tonight?” Patton quietly asked between bites of pasta.

“No,” Logan told him. “But we do have to do a page in the Physics packet. It’s only five problems, but they’re pretty long, and that’s coming from me.” 

Patton groaned in response.

Roman added, “I also talked to your Child Guidance teacher, and she told me that your class was having a test tomorrow on Chapter Six. You should probably email her and ask if you’d be able to take it at home since I don’t assume you’ll be leaving Virgil alone.” He shot a knowing look to Pat as he said this. It wasn’t news that Patton was basically the dad friend; he was always caring about everyone else’s well being and stayed committed to them when they need support, even if that person was someone he’d just met. Especially if that person was someone he’d just met.

“Neither of us had time to ask your Psychology teacher about homework, but I’d just send him an email that explains your situation, and I’m sure he’ll give you a break. We know how worried you get, and we don’t want any excessive stress about school on top of that,” Logan added with a small smile.

“Thanks, guys! You’re the best friends I could ask for.” Patton had somehow finished his entire plate of food in the less than two minute conversation and had opened up his phone to email his teachers.

The instant the phone had been turned off, Logan spoke up once more. “Patton, I know you want to look after Virgil, but have you gotten any sleep in the past twenty four hours? You look like a figurative zombie.” Roman couldn’t help but agree. Intense bags had formed under his friend’s eyes, and he looked as if he would fall asleep at any moment.

“I’m okay, guys. I promi--” Patton’s words got cut off by an intense yawn.

“Point proven. We’ll look after him while you rest, okay? Roman, get out the blanket that we packed.” Logan’s words, although could be taken as harsh, were very gentle and kind. Patton wiggled out from under Virgil, being careful not to wake him up. Roman handed over the blanket and guided him to the padded bench in the corner of the room. Almost as soon as Patton had set his head on the blanket, he was out. The two remaining teens smiled at their loving friend.

“Who the fuck are you two?!” Virgil screeched. Upon waking up, he had found himself in his hospital room with Patton asleep in the corner and two random guys playing what looked like chess three feet away.

“Welcome back to the living, Creeping Beauty,” muttered the smaller guy in the red short sleeved button up with little white hearts, not looking up from the game.

“My name is Logan Christiansen, and this is my friend Roman Patrick. We’re friends with Patton, and we have been tasked with watching over you while he gets a little sleep.” The guy in the tie, Logan, adjusted his glasses and made a move on the board in front of him. “Check mate, Roman.”

Virgil sighed and looked around the room for something to do while Logan and Roman were playing chess. He spotted his suitcase and instantly got a little happier.

“Did you guys happen to bring my phone and headphones?” Honestly, he didn’t care if he sounded like a little kid in a candy store. He’d been craving the ability to listen to something loud so that he could wash out all of the bad thoughts in his mind.

“Yeah,” Roman answered. “It’s in your backpack. Give me a second to find it.” He got up and rummaged through the black backpack a few feet away until he found what he was looking for. He dropped it on the lap of Virgil and went right back to playing his game.

Navigating a phone with barely any of his fingers unbandaged was a task, to say the least, but Virgil eventually got open the music app and put it on shuffle. The first song to come up was “Novocaine” by Fall Out Boy. A smile spread on his face. He closed his eyes and let the music soothe him until he fell back to sleep.

Roman glanced at where Logan had fallen asleep in the middle of a physics problem and sighed. He’d accidentally left his phone in the car and was hopelessly bored. The teen dramatically propped his feet up onto the hospital bed and threw his head back.

“Hey, Drama Queen. Is there any way you could get me some food?” Roman’s head snapped to look at Virgil, who was looking at him with disinterest.

“First of all,” Roman started. “I am not a ‘Drama Queen.’ Second, I think that the cafeteria closed at eight, and it’s well past ten right now.” 

Virgil rolled his eyes. “Awesome. Truly, how could this day get any better? An astounding ending,” the boy muttered as he ran a bandaged hand through his hair. Admittedly, Roman felt bad for the kid. He’d had a really rough day, and not being able to eat was probably weighing on him. With a sudden change of heart, Roman stood up and grabbed his wallet.

“Would you rather stay here, or do you want me to grab you a wheelchair so I can push you around on a quest for food?” For a second, Roman almost swore that he had seen a hint of a smile flash across Virgil’s face.

“Wheelchair.” Virgil swung his legs until they hung off the side of his mattress and slowly sat up, taking hold of his IV stand in the process.

It only took Roman a minute to find a wheelchair that he could use. Virgil hopped off the bed, almost eating shit in the process, and plunked himself into the wheelchair. Their quest for some sustenance started with very few setbacks until they reached the elevators.

“Oh, shit! I forgot that I’d have to take the elevator. Fuck.” It took all of Roman’s self control not to laugh at that comment.

“Afraid of elevators, Dr. Disasterology?” Roman teased.

“Shut up, asshole.” Virgil sneered. “Look, there’s a lot that could go wrong in an elevator, not to mention that it’s fucking tiny.”

“Well, it’s too late to turn back now.” Roman pushed the wheelchair into the elevator and hit the button for the third floor. All color had drained out of Virgil’s face as soon as the elevator had started to move. It only took a second for Roman to realize that his actions had been a dick move.

“Virgil, are you going to be okay? We can abort the mission and just go back if you nee--”

“No. We’re going,” Virgil said through clenched teeth. The elevator dinged, announcing they’d reached the correct floor, and Roman pushed them out as soon as the doors were wide enough to allow for them to pass. He could visibly see Virgil calm down, which was both relieving and mildly terrifying at the same time.

“Let’s see if any of the vending machines are on. I think there are a few near the cafeteria, and they looked like they had some okay choices.” Roman murmured as he tried to gather his thoughts while they wandered around the hospital.

Virgil pointed to his left. “That looks kinda promising.” There was a lone vending machine tucked away in a corner. Its lights were on, but it didn’t look like it’d been touched in ages. Roman dramatically made racecar noises as he turned the wheelchair and pushed them towards the machine. He didn’t even need to be looking to know that Virgil had rolled his eyes.

Virgil scanned the contents of the machine once they’d arrived. It was full of options, and it looked like nothing had been bought.

“Alright, Prince Charming, can you buy me some of those veggie straw things and a cinnamon bun?” 

Roman obliged, especially since he only had to spend a total of two dollars on the meal.

“Thanks, dude,” Virgil said as he tore open the bag of veggie straws.

“No problem. At least you’re not a food vacuum like Patton. He ate his entire plate of pasta in less than two minutes.” Virgil couldn’t help but laugh at that.

“Is that a challenge? Because I will totally fight him on that title of ‘food vacuum.’” He shoved a giant handful of chips into his mouth, immediately reaching for another. Roman had to pause navigating their way to the elevators to physically stop Virgil from stuffing his mouth.

There were exactly three other incidents were Virgil tried to shove copious amounts of food into his mouth, and the third happened to be at the same moment that they were arriving at the room. Roman opened the door to be greeted by a worried Patton, who was staring straight at Virgil as he ate a full handful of the chips. 

Patton’s face instantly grew cheery as he saw the pair. “I was so worried about you two! I’m glad you’re okay; although, Roman, it was irresponsible to not leave a note explaining where you went. I almost woke up Logan and made him come with me to search for you!” Patton’s words were flying out of his mouth at a speed that was barely comprehensible.

“Sorry, Pat. I should’ve left a note. Virgil was really hungry, so we went to get him some--VIRGIL I SWEAR TO GOD DO NOT SHOVE THAT WHOLE CINNAMON BUN INTO YOUR MOUTH--food. Glad to see you got some sleep, though.” Roman gave Patton a quick hug before helping Virgil back into the bed.

“You and Logan should probably head out. I don’t want you two to be tired for school tomorrow.” Pat once again took a seat at Virgil’s side. Roman nodded and began to lightly shake Logan’s shoulder.

“Hey, sleepyhead. It’s time to get up so you can drive us home.”

“...What?” Logan asked, voice laced with tiredness.

“It’s around ten thirty, Lo. We need to get home and sleep in an actual bed, not on a chair. C’mon, dear heart,” Roman coaxed. It took Logan all of thirty seconds to actually process the information, and in that time Roman decided he’d be driving them to Logan’s house and staying there for the night.

After the duo packed up their things and said goodbye, Virgil and Patton were left alone in the dreary hospital room, where the only sounds were Virgil softly chewing on his cinnamon roll and the EKG machine.

“Did you have a good nap?” Virgil asked after a few minutes.

“Yeah, I did. How was your food adventure with Roman?” Patton was really curious. Out of Logan and Roman, he’d expected Virgil to dislike Roman’s dramatic nature far more than Logan’s intense intelligence.

“It was… interesting. Roman is totally dramatic, so it was way funnier to mess around with him and see his reactions.” Virgil thought back to the numerous times he’d messed around just to fuck with Roman and laughed. Seriously, Virgil, he’d scolded. I don’t want you choking on food on our way back up. Patton would literally kill me.

“Well that’s good, kiddo! And how are you feeling? Do you need me to get you anything?”

“I’m good, Patton. Really. I feel better than I have in a while, to be honest.” There was no lie in what Virgil said. He really did feel better than he had in a long time. All of the things that the trio of friends were doing for him made him feel really happy. Like, maybe he did actually matter.

“That’s wonderful!” The two sat in silence for a while before Virgil spoke up again.

“Thanks for everything you’re doing, Patton. I’ve been kind of an ass to you today.” Virgil focused on his hands. He was really embarrassed that he’d ended up in the hospital when everything could’ve been avoided if he’d just shut his fucking mouth and listened to Patton.

“Don’t worry about it. I told you earlier today that I’ve been in some rough times as well. It’s really, really hard on a person, and sometimes they do things they don’t really mean.” Patton reached up and ruffled Virgil’s hair, to which he protested. The duo broke out in laughter. Virgil really could get used to this whole having-friends thing.

“Do you want to listen to some music? I have some not-super-punk songs if you’d rather listen to something lighter.” Admittedly, “some not-super-punk songs” meant things like “20 Dollar Nosebleed” and “This is Gospel,” but technically they weren’t as punk rock the rest of his collection.

“We can listen to whatever you want, Virge. Don’t let me stop you from listening to the music you enjoy.” 

Virgil shrugged and unplugged his headphones, turning up the volume at the same time. He hit shuffle on his playlist and let the sounds of “I’m Not Okay (I Promise)” fill the room.

The two teenagers sat there for a long while before both of them eventually fell asleep.

next

#sanders sides fic #m writes things #logince #moxiety #virgil sanders #patton sanders #roman sanders #logan sanders

[jflashandclash]

Traitors of Olympus IV: Fall of the Sun

Thirty-Three: Axel

Stairs: The Real Villain in This Series Part II[1]

           “Move!”

           Someone grabbed Axel’s arm.

           Reyna dragged him and Calex away from the cliff. Axel hardly had time to snatch up the Leonis Caput helm. Thalia was a half second behind, slashing the vines off Calex and Euna’s legs with her two daggers. The huntress, with a grunt, lifted Euna in a fireman’s carry, with the daughter of Demeter slung across her shoulders.

           Axel wanted to protest that he or Calex could help, but Calex could barely stand and Axel almost tripped on his bad ankle.

           They stumble-ran from the edge, rushing past rock spires without checking for hidden enemies, splashing through muck pools, disregarding any form of stealth for what speed they could manage. With each time the earth quivered, Reyna egged them on, shouting at them to continue.

           The cliff, the Leonis Caput growled.

           Yea, shut up. I know, Axel thought back.

           Axel could imagine it now: Euna successfully slicing off a piece of Kaos, them successfully pulling Calex, Euna, and Jack out of that horrible hole, and then all of them dying. The culprit? Faulty architecture.

           Pain ignited along his leg each time he stepped. His breath came in short gasps and the air felt icy in his lungs.[2] Axel struggled to focus on the darkness ahead of them.

           Maybe it was the lack of tactful movement, or maybe it was because the floor could fall out from under them at any moment, but the trip back to Euna and Jack’s tunnel felt like it took way less time than getting to the cliff.

           “There!” Thalia shouted when the flowery cavern became discernible in the dimness.

           Another tremor hit the earth hard as they reached the entrance.

           Calex staggered onto the third step. “Just a sec,” he said. He hunched, gasping for air.

           Thalia didn’t complain. She dumped Euna, unceremoniously, on the next step down.

           “Watch it, huntress,” Jack growled from Euna’s belt, his voice muffled by the way her stomach currently crushed him.

           Axel and Reyna stared out into the abyss, with its layers of black spires that reached from the ground, and ended—the cliff and the entire world—at the drop off to Kaos. A quote that Alabaster used to say surfaced in his memory. Axel glanced down at the Leonis Caput helm in his hand, thinking, Whoever fights monsters should see to it that, in the process, he does not become a monster.

           They held their breath, waiting to see if the edge of the cliff would crumble away into Kaos’ nothingness.

           The ground stopped trembling.

           A hush suffocated the sounds of Tartarus.

           They all glanced at each other uncertainly.

           Axel puffed up his cheeks and popped them. In the cold dankness, the sound was soft.

           “Huh,” Jack said. “That was kind of disappointing. When we get back, we should tell everyone the cliff collapsed. That’ll make a better story. I’m telling Pax that the cliff collapsed.”

           Thalia scowled down at Jack with disgust.

           “Kaos isn’t chasing us,” Axel said. His mind had been floundering for a plan if she did decide to chase them.

           Calex choked out a strained chuckle. “I couldn’t make her fall in love for long, mate. She probably doesn’t even remember that box exists. Sorry for borrowing your emotions and all that. Should be back by now.”

           Axel and Reyna glared at him.

           Axel cleared his throat. “Calex, my emotions have been messed with a lot in the last day, between the love potion and what Ares and Aphrodite did to me. I know why you did what you did, but, when we get out of here, I’m hurting you. And I won’t go easy.”

           Calex opened and closed his mouth.

           Axel was annoyed, though understanding, that what Reyna said next seemed to scare Calex more.

           “So, you’ve decided to side with them?” she asked, nodding her chin towards Axel.

           Calex’s eyes widened, something that looked painful once Axel saw the broken blood vessels in Calex’s eyes, tinting the white a pink. “No! That’s a bit of a jump, innit? I’m on the side of saving the camp,” he spoke quickly, without certainty. “Euna promised she’d come topside to slog Phobetor in the face.”

           Axel thought about the Leonis Caput’s scream, One of my brethren is in danger, something it had never done before. “We need to get topside,” he said.

           He examined the sheen on the helm. It needed a good polishing after its literal blood bath. The thought that something had happened to Pax was too much. He wondered if the helm could always sense when the other helms were in danger and if it knew whether or not Pax was alright now.

           “The trip up will be much quicker than the trip down,” Jack said cheerily. “I couldn’t exactly shake the earth apart with my voice without a few breaks. These vocal cords aren’t what they used to be, and we didn’t exactly have throat-coat-tea. But, the path is already cleared for us now.”

           Thalia rolled her eyes at him. “Oh my gods. We are not taking that thing back to camp. And we’re not carrying Euna either. I’m waking her up.”

           Axel and Calex flinched. They reached for Thalia.

           “Stop!” Calex said.

           “Don’t—” Axel started.

           Thalia didn’t do what Axel expected. Axel figured the huntress would shake Euna awake. If Euna punched Axel before she had demigod training or enhanced god powers, he was terrified of seeing what Euna would do to Thalia upon waking now.

           But, Thalia didn’t shake Euna.

           She zapped her.

           A bolt of electricity shot from Thalia’s fingers and arched into the slumbering daughter of Demeter.

           Highly effective.

           Euna sat up, eyes wide with fury. She lashed a hand out, and, mimicking her movement, a vine swatted around in a circle.

           Calex had already wisely hit the deck.

           Axel and Reyna ducked.

           Thalia stuck a hand out and grabbed the vine. She didn’t even flinch at the, likely, immense pain that rattled down her arm.

           Euna’s scowl narrowed on her.

           “Oh my gods! Euna—NO!” Thalia said, “You’re not allowed to get all huffy on me after jumping off a cliff. Do you know what I had to do to get here?! I had to swim through a river of blood! I had to let a child of Eros shoot me! I had to be locked in a room with Axel when he was naked for 15 minutes!”

           Euna’s expression softened to sleepy confusion, like she was about to roll back over and hit snooze on Thalia’s very valid complaints. “Isn’t that last one a good thing?” she asked. Her gaze lazily drifted over to Axel, and he could tell she was thinking about lying back down and would say anything to go back to sleep. “I mean, aren’t a lot of people into you?”

           Calex burst into laughter.

           Thalia went bright red.

           Heat flared in Axel’s face. He opened his mouth to respond only to discover that he had never, in all his years as a trained tactician, prepared for a comment like that from Euna. Axel refused to look at Reyna’s reaction, though he heard her snort.

           Jack chuckled. “You should have seen it at Camp Othrys. All the monsters wanted his Mist tail. To think of why he turned them down.” Jack tutted his tongue towards Reyna. “You should hear the story of how he reacted when someone stole his first kiss—”

           “We’re leaving. Now.” Axel grabbed Euna and Calex’s arms. “Euna, Calex, up. Jack, shut up. Thalia, Reyna, start going up.”

           The hike up was exhausting, mentally and physically. For some reason, Axel kept thinking going to Tartarus would be harder, with navigating the Labyrinth and the impromptu side tour of Xibalba.

           At least Xibalba had diversity that kept them alert, like whether or not a passing rabbit could talk or would end up being a psychiatric, bloodthirsty, bunniac. Ascending the stairs that stretched from the surface to Tartarus was dull.

           Everything smelled dank and stale. Air hardly moved down the corridor. The tunnel never curved. It continued at a consistent, steep 50 degree angle upward. The glow off their weapons and armor made the world sombrous. The walls altered from different types of clay and rock. Occasionally a pretty gem would show up. Calex chiseled three out of the walls on one of their breaks, claiming he wanted Glad You’re Not Here souvenirs for Kally, Merry, and Pax.

           Otherwise, Axel felt like he was on an escalator going the wrong way.

           At least, after this, their thigh muscles could be used to crack nuts from the World Tree.

           After the first twenty to thirty minutes, his ankle behaved more regularly and the ache ebbed.  They had taken a quick pause to patch up everyone’s cuts and bruises, though Thalia didn’t have nearly enough bandages for the number that Kaos had done to Calex’s skin.

           The worst part: Jack literally couldn’t stop making noise, whether it be singing, humming, talking, or raving.[3] Although Axel had spent many nights with Pax and other recruits around a campfire, listening to Jack’s multitude of never-ending, entertaining (often longwinded) stories, this was much more extreme.[4]

           “Orpheus’ curse,” Reyna muttered, the third or fourth time that Calex told Jack to shut up and Jack hummed louder.

           Reyna and Axel ended up ahead of the others. Whether that was by Calex’s design or not, Axel was unsure.

           Axel had a lot he wanted to say to her. In this eternal climb, where the repetition of the walls became hypnotic, and Jack finally settled into a soft, whispered drone, instead of tales—sometimes teasing and humiliating, sometimes horrid and grotesque—from Mount Othrys, Axel had nothing but his thoughts. Nothing could be done for Pax, Alabaster, or Kally until they reached topside. There was no way to plan a more effective way to climb the stairs.

           His gaze kept slipping to Reyna, how her purple cloak swayed behind her, how she’d undone her braid since it was falling into such disarray, how her armor gleamed in the darkness.

           With real curiosity and little thought to her reaction, he asked, “If Kronos had forced you to kill Hylla, and you had one last chance to get a real weapon to defend yourself from him, would you have made the same choice I did back there?”  

           Reyna pressed her lips together and said nothing.

           They continued in relative silence—Jack was still humming and Thalia’s anger could he physically heard in the form of tiny crackles and sparks that flared up every so often.

           Axel decided—if he, Kally, Alabaster, and Pax really made a new camp—punishment for skipping out on chores or training would be climbing a set of Jack’s-voice-crafted stairs.

           “Axel,” Reyna said, “We should focus on the up incoming battle and how to defend the camp from gods.”

           “Yes,” Axel agreed. Each step felt easier. Reyna had called him by his real name, not his helm’s moniker. Her comment also left the doors open for discussion.

           An indiscernible amount of time and number of steps later, something strange happened that cut their tactical discussion to a halt.

            While Axel frequently fought the Leonis Caput’s whispers and growls, their presence was natural in his head, like a gravely echo of his own mind.

           A voice, one he had never heard before, but that felt so comfortable and welcoming, chimed and reverberated, Hello, Tomcat.

           From a quick glanced around, he could tell no one else heard the women’s deep, sensuous alto. Reyna was in the middle of discussing Eris’ potential weaknesses through comparison to Bellona (a goddess Eris was often intermixed with).

           The female voice purred, I’m doing a favor for one of my kittens and you’re the first feline I’ve found in a half-a-mile’s radius. My warriors can be easily spooked by the presence of ghosts and ghouls, but you’re a brave enough warrior to fight off the terrors of the night, aren’t you, Tomcat?

           “Axel, are you okay?” someone asked beside him.

           Axel struggled to nod in a convincing way. He thought, I don’t appreciate anyone breaking into my mind.

           I can’t break into something that is already mine. Her tone wasn’t controlling, like Aphrodite’s. It was almost… gentle, endearing like the voice of a commander that cared for her troops. Axel remembered shouting to his soldiers, riling them for battle, reminding them their souls were already pledged to Kronos, so what did they have to lose?

           Axel chose to let it go for now. Ghosts, ghouls, and terrors. You speak of Phobetor and Melinoe?

           If those are the gods attacking the Greek demigods, then yes, she continued, I think we can come to a mutually beneficial agreement. So, my handsome Tomcat, shall we make some intra-cosmic magic?

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed :D

Footnotes:

[1] Part one is chapter 35, which was named first. It felt rude to chapter 35 if I made that Part Two when it was the original XD Don’t mind my feverish politeness to chapters.

[2] One of my all time favorite betacomments from Mel, since she answered her own question, “ARE THERE GHOSTS ABOUT??

….

….

Well, that was a ridiculous question considering where they are XD”

[3] Mel betacomment, “I know you mean the raving conversation, but I just imagine Jack performing a one-head-rave

Jack, “They’ll use my head as the beach ball.”

[4] Oh… oh, Jack knows….

#Heroes of Olympus #Percy Jackson and the Olympians #PJO #HOO #fanfiction #Traitors of Olympus #toO #Axel #Reyna #thalia #calex #Euna #Jack #starring a cliff #and a sexy disemodied voice #that isn't jack's I promise

[melomato]

Fallacy

This story was created for the Lost For Words Challenge.

Genre: Angst

Characters: Wen Junhui, Xu Minghao, Jeon Wonwoo

Warnings: Death, Depression..?

Word Count: 1850

Prompts Chosen: 

Quote Prompt: 4. “sometimes the loneliest place to be is in love.” - lang leav

Conversation Prompt: 

2. “have you ever thought about what would’ve happened if we didn’t kill him?” 

3. “if you hadn’t died, none of this would’ve happened in the first place!”

[There's a few issues with the formatting and font on mobile.]

Junhui stated blankly at the plain white wall just over his therapists left shoulder. "Is there anything more you want to say?" she asked.

Junhui shrugged, slightly shaking his head no.

"Well that concludes our session today," she smiled slightly and leaned forward. "I do hope you'll try better next time."

Junhui nodded and stood up to leave. I'm not sure there'll be a next time.

He climbed into his car and drove with no destination in mind. It was only after he'd reached the large black hats that he'd realised where he'd ended up once again.

Sighing he got out and pushed the gate wide open allowing himself to pass through. He walked along the rows upon rows of headstones protruding out the ground and made his way to the one on the third row.

He knelt down before a grave and stared at the stone bearing the name: Jeon Wonwoo 1996 - 2018

His heart clenched and he had to force the air out of his lungs and pull it back in. An old memory, like a vintage photo passed through his mind, but he quickly shoved it away, compressing the building ball of emotions building up at the pit of his stomach.

He sat there a bit longer humming a slow tune to himself before deciding to leave and head back home where Minghao was waiting for him.

...

"Hey, where were you?" Minghao asked, looking up at the sound of the door clicking open.

Junhui closed the door behind him, "I went to visit him again."

Minghao stiffened, "How was he?"

Junhui lifted a shoulder slightly, and dropped it. "Same as always I guess."

Minghao tried to give him the sweetest of smiles, his lips straining with the effort.

Junhui was completely oblivious to all this, and simply walked past him to his bedroom and shut the door behind him.

He lay on his bed and stared at the ceiling. There wasn't much he wanted to do these days. Not without Wonwoo anyway.

His heart didn't ache or anything when he thought of him. He didn't feel a pang of sadness in his chest. He didn't feel like breaking down into sobs until his body would tire. He just felt an empty void in his soul. A place that needed filing up.

He felt lost and alone.

He wished he could cry it out. Or maybe even break everything in the house in anger. He wished he'd at least feel something. But all his thoughts were a series of blanks, leaving him feeling vacant and bare.

With no memory of having fallen asleep, Junhui woke up and rubbed his eyes. He sat up in his bed, his muscles aching. The quick movement sent a slight throbbing in his head. Groggily he stood up and walked out his room to get a glass of water.

He found Minghao sitting at the dining table reading a book with a cup of coffee sitting not too far away.

Minghao glanced up as Junhui walked in. He didn't comment on his crumpled clothes that would suggest he'd been sleeping. He silently turned back to his book and continued to read.

After having his glass of water he sat down at the table on the opposite end to the other boy. He stared down and silently watched rippling movement of the liquid.

A few moments later Minghao look up at the boy sitting across him and examined him over his glasses curiously. He simply sat there, stiller then a statue, intently staring at his glass of water. He thought about saying something, but then thought against it, and went back to his book.

He'd always just thought he should give him space. Give him time. To figure out things on his own. And if he needed him of course he'd always be here to lend an ear or help him out.

But it had been months and there had been no change in Wen Junhui. The therapist had said they hadn't made much progress at all, if any. And though Minghao was worried out of his mind, he'd still thought all Junhui had needed was space.

He sighed. Maybe just a little more space.

Junhui stood up, leaving his glass of water untouched and left to go back to his room. He figured it was quite late and he should probably go to bed properly this time. He grabbed a towel and a few clothes and headed to the bathroom.

...

He sat in the familiar beige sofa chair facing a woman. It took him a few moments to get his bearings and he squinted his eyes trying to focus he rubbed them and squinted again.

"Let's start again, what do you last remember?" his therapist asked watching him intently, not missing a single detail about him.

When had he come here? He had no memory of driving to this dreaded place he'd sworn he'd never return to.

He shut his eyes tight trying to think. He searched in his brain left and right but all he was met with was pitch black emptiness.

What was he doing? How did he get here?

What happened?

"Well there's more progress than I've seen in weeks, you're finally talking," she beamed at him.

He didn't realise he'd asked the last one aloud.

"W-what happened?" he repeated.

"What do you last remember doing?" she asked.

"I don't know," he pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. "I... Don't remember anything," he whispered suddenly very scared. "What did you do to me?"

"Think back to the last thing you did," she stated calmly.

"I... I was going to the shower. I was getting ready for bed."

"And then..?"

"I don't remember," he sighed. He hit his head with his knuckles again and again, over and over, "I don't remember. I don't remember. I don't remember."

The therapists hands flew forward grabbing his wrists away from his face. "Junhui stop," she said sternly. She loosened her grip slightly when she felt his arms go slack. He was staring at the ground and his face was blank once again. Back to how he usually was.

"You passed out in the shower and your friend, he called the ambulance up for you," she said lightly. "You haven't been eating anything lately and it took a toll on your body. Do you remember anything now?"

Junhui continued to stare hard at the ground, images flashed in his mind when he closed his eyes. He blinked a few times.

He was sitting up against the wall on the bathroom floor, Minghao's face directly in front of his, his eyes filled with worry and concern._

He lay on a stretcher and was being put into ambulance, Minghao running in after him.

There was an IV tube protruding out his right arm and Minghao sat in a chair at the foot of his bed head in his hands.

And all of a sudden the images changed. They warped into each other and twisted out of form.

A man swung a knife at him and he ducked out the way, only to be hit across the head with a bat.

A slash of the knife was heard and he saw a body fall. His whole world shattering, he threw a hot iron at the one at fault.

His legs gave way as he sat between them, head in his hands, and watched as a man lay on the ground, cold and eyes empty of life. His skin slowly turning blue.

He felt the images dissolve out of shape and memories they brought shredding his insides out.

And then...

Wonwoo was holding his hand smiling at him, causing his own lips to stretch out into a smile.

Wonwoo brushed his fringe out of his eyes and handed him an ice lolly and they both made a toast with their lollies before breaking out into a fit of giggles.

Wonwoo tapped his nose and the continued to watch the sunset that couldn't be more beautiful.

Wen Junhui lay on the floor, at the foot of his chair. A single tear fell out of his eye and crawled down the side of his face, dropping onto the carpet beneath him.

He blinked again as one last image flashed behind his closed eye lids.

"Sometimes the loneliest place to be is in love." It was a line from an old poem he'd read long ago. He hadn't understood it back then, and only now he was beginning to feel the full weight of its wisdom.

His therapist knelt next to him stroking his hair softly as sobs broke wracked though his whole form and he cried and cried never wanting to stop.

Hoping his reality was nothing more than a nightmare.

Praying he'd wake up soon.

...

Minghao looked around the house, but he couldn't find Junhui anywhere. He seen him come home earlier and was certain he hadn't left. And he'd checked his room and the bathrooms multiple times afraid the events of last time would once again repeat itself.

Stepping into Junhui's bedroom for the fourth time, he noticed the window wide open and quickly ran to glance out. He glances down and saw nothing but a clear pavement and sighed in relief. He looked around before noticing the bars leading up to the roof on the side of the wall, and used them as a ladder to get himself up there.

He slowly sat down slowly beside Junhui and stared out over all the rooftops at the cityscape before them.

They sat in silence for a few moments before Minghao spoke up, "Do you ever wonder what would've happened if we didn't kill him?"

Junhui didn't answer straight away. He didn't react to the question. He hadn't even moved a muscle and Minghao wondered maybe if he hadn't heard it at all.

But then he replied, his voice raspy and low,"All the time."

Minghao's eyes widened slightly. He hadn't expected such a straightforward answer or one not void of emotion. He sighed and scooted closer. He reached over to Junhui's hand resting on his thigh and placed his own over it, squeezing it lightly.

Junhui who had been staring at the stars, looked down at his hand and clenched his first and then unclenched. "I didn't deserve him..." he whispered.

"He didn't deserve you," Minghao corrected pointedly. "He abused you. You didn't like him."

"And whose fault was that? Mine. I'm the one that didn't deserve him. I'm the one that should've died. I'm the one that cheated on him." Junhui turned on him angrily, "With you!"

Minghao stared at him in shock. He didn't respond for a while and just stared at the ground. He again reached over and rubbed Junhui's arm soothingly, the atmosphere still too tense to say anything.

"But you're right," Minghao glanced up at those words. "I didn't like him," Junhui said staring at the ground.

"I loved him." He stared straight up at the stars again, at the twinkling constellations, with more emotion than the other boy had seen in months. The light from the stars reflected off his eyes as frustration swirled in together with the pain and Minghao wondered what else he was feeling.

Junhui sighed and looked up at the sky, "Why couldn't he be the one sitting next to me right now? Why did you come to my house that day; a fight was inevitable." Tears welled in Junhui's eyes and he quickly wiped them away.

He glanced to his side and half smiled, and a chill ran down Minaghao’s spine. "If you hadn't died, none of this would've happened in the first place.

#lfwc #lost for words challenge #seventeen #fanfic #junhao #wonhui #mine #my writing #oneshot #short story #writing challenge #prompts #seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #seventeen fanfiction #svt

[katymacsupernatural]

Stories to Awaken Terror Chapter 4: Purple Candy

Dean Winchester x Reader

2400 Words

Story Summary:As a couple of kids read a scary book, Sam, Dean and Y/N live those scary tales. Will they be able to figure out what’s causing the hunts before it’s too late?

Catch Up Here: Masterpost

“Aren’t we done with these stories yet?” Tyler whined as the three kids once again met in the tent, Zach holding the book in front of him. His sister was already there, her stuffed animal held tightly in her arms, a bowl of popcorn off to the side. “I don’t think they can get any better.”

“We have to finish the book,” Zach insisted, his eyes wide as he stared at his friends.

“Zach, are you okay?” Sophia asked, leaning back away from her brother at  his frenzied look.

“I will be if you don’t stop asking questions and let me start reading!” He yelled, both Tyler and Sophia quieting down to placate Zach. “There was a house at the end of the lane,” he started reading, his voice low, much creepier than normal.

“This house was nestled back in the trees, the wood no longer white but a dull, greasy gray. The windows were covered in dust, and everyone, the young and the old refused to step inside, afraid of what awaited them.”

“Years past, and still it sat empty, many people thinking that it would disintegrate with the wind. But still it sat there, until one day!” Zach exclaimed, glancing up at his friend and sister with wild eyes.

“What happened?” Tyler asked, his voice much higher than normal.

“It was almost like magic. This couple moved in, and the house transformed with them. The grey walls turned back to white, the windows shined the brightest of any in town. They were happy people, bringing children closer to them, offering them sweets. They began selling candy to the children, bags of candy. These little shiny purple balls. Children loved them, pleading with their parents for enough change to buy a bag after school.”

“What’s so scary about candy?” Sophia asked.

“After a month of selling their special purple candy, our heroes roll into town, looking into the mysterious deaths that had recently occured. Including those of children.”

“Dean, do you think this is a normal hunt, or…,” you asked, sitting in the front of the Impala for once, as Sam stretched out in the backseat. Dean had pulled you closer to him, his hand resting lightly on your thigh.

“I really don’t know,” he sighed lightly. “I wish I could say it was, but I also feel the pull of this hunt, much like the other ones. I just wish Cas would hurry up and figure out what’s going on.”

“I do too,” you whispered. “I have a bad feeling about this one.”

“We’ll be fine, like we always are,” Dean tried assuring you.

Turning silent, you stared out the window as Dean drove down Main Street. It was small and quaint, with only a couple of Mom and Pop shops. At the end was a little hotel, and Dean went inside to reserve a room while you turned to wake up the sleeping moose behind you.

Stretching, you watched as children passed by, bags of a strange looking purple candy clenched in their hands, their mouths dyed purple. Expecting them to be silly, and bouncing with all that sugar, you watched as they shuffled down the street, almost zombielike.

“That’s weird, isn’t it?” Sam asked, just as Dean came out of the lobby, smiling widely.

“So they only had two rooms left, both singles,” he announced. “Sam, you get your own room for once! Y/N and I can share.”

It had become a normal habit in the week since your last hunt, and you didn’t mind it at all. After all, falling asleep being held in Dean’s arms was definitely not a hardship, and you found yourself sleeping better than you had in a long time.

Pushing open the door to your hotel room, you were pleasantly surprised. A simple queen sized bed was placed in the middle, a patchwork quilt brightening the room. A small table, along with a fridge and couch completed the living area, but the bathroom had a deep bathtub along with a nice shower. “This is actually pretty decent,” you announced as Dean brought your items in.

“Ohh, I bet you’re going to want to try out that tub,” he stated before plopping down on the bed beside you. “Hopefully we get this hunt taken care of fast, and then we can spend a day relaxing. Maybe I could even join you?”

Sure, you and Dean had been sleeping in the same bed, but you had never gone past the kissing stage. Mainly because you were worried that you wouldn’t be good enough for the experienced man. But you didn’t tell him that, and he didn’t push.

“So, tell me again why we’re here?” You asked just as Sam came into the room, settling down in one of the chairs, opening his laptop.

“Because of the weird way children are dying,” Sam explained, pulling up the police records. “There have been four confirmed child deaths in the past month, and each one have been connected.”

“How?”

“They literally had no blood left in their bodies. Their veins were filled with these tiny little bugs,” he said, turning to show you the screen, and you hid your face in Dean’s shoulder, creeped out by the little bugs. “The weirdest thing?”

“What’s weirder than little bugs in your veins?” You asked, making Dean chuckle.

“Their hearts were gone. No sign of getting cut open, nothing. But no heart.”

“So what are we thinking? A very tricky werewolf?”

“I have no idea. The police haven’t been able to tie them together. The kids were different ages, and hung out in different circles.”

“Wait, I did notice something. Sam remember? Those kids out front, they seemed so weird. Eating that purple candy!”

“That’s not much to go on, but we’ve dealt with less,” Sam thought out loud. “I’d really like to head down to the police department, see what else I can find out.”

“Good. Y/N and I will try to find some kids, see if they can tell us where this purple candy is coming from, and if it’s tied in.”

“Meet back here in a couple of hours?” Sam suggested, Dean pulling you to your feet before you left the comfortable bed behind.

“It seems like every kid has eaten this candy!” Dean exclaimed. “I wonder if it’s the culprit?”

“Yeah, but no one is telling us where it’s being bought at,” you groaned. “If it is the cause, you would think we could figure out something.”

“Excuse me,” a small voice whispered, a hand reaching up to tug on your coat. “Are you here to stop those people?”

“What people?” You asked, turning to see a small boy, about six years old with dirty blonde hair and light blue eyes staring up at you.

“The people selling the candy. My friends are getting sick,” he whispered. “I’m scared.”

Kneeling down, Dean turned the boys attention to him. “Why don’t you tell us about these people, and where they live.”

“They live down there,” he pointed. “Selling candy. They were old when they came, but now, now they look young. It scares me.”

“Have you eaten any of the candy?” You asked him, and he shook his head. “Good, keep it that way. Go home, and we’ll get this figured out.”

Watching as the boy ran away, you turned to Dean. “Shall we go check them out?”

Taking his phone out, he called Sam, leaving a message as you made your way down the street. The houses turned from well maintained, to dark and falling apart. Watching closely, you hoped you could figure out which one you needed. It wasn’t until you rounded the corner that you knew finding it would be much easier than you thought.

It was the middle of three houses, and it stood out like a sore thumb. Both houses flanking it were falling apart, their windows boarded, no trespassing signs on the porch. But the one in the middle was tucked into the trees, it’s white paint vibrant against the darkness. It looked cleaned, and well maintained, and a sign proudly proclaimed it to be a sweets shop. “I think we found it,” you announced.

“Why don’t I have a good feeling about this?” Dean wondered out loud just as a couple stepped out onto the porch. The woman was stunning, with her long, thick dark brown hair and voluptuous body. The man was handsome with his olive skin and thick wavy hair. Standing side by side, they waved towards you, a smile upon their face.

“Welcome!” They called out, as you carefully stepped forward. “How can we help you?”

“Hi, we were just wondering if you were selling those candies?” Dean asked, keeping his arm wrapped around you waist.

The closer you stepped to the house, the more you could sense something was wrong. The grass in the front had a sweet, pungent smell, and the women’s eyes were dark and cruel. Her hand was wrapped in a blood stained cloth. “We are. We normally sell to children, but if you want some I just made a fresh batch.”

“No thank you,” Dean told them. “We were just wondering if they were connected to the deaths of the children in town.”

“I knew we would draw hunters if we weren’t careful,” her husband muttered, moving faster than you expected, standing in front of you and Dean before you could blink.

“Y/N, run!” Dean exclaimed, just as the man smashed Dean’s head with a rock, immediately knocking him unconscious.

“What the…,” you started to say, pulling your gun from your back pocket just as the man turned on you, his teeth long and sharp. Shooting him in the chest, you stared in shock as it didn’t seem to phase him before he brought the rock down, knocking you out instantly.

Your head aching, you woke up, immediately remembering what happened. Opening your eyes, you groaned as pain radiated through your head, your vision blurred from the blood that had seeped out of your wound.

You were chained to a table, both your hands and legs held by chains, an iv attached to your arm, blood slowly leaving your body.

“Y/N!” Dean exclaimed from your left, and you were just able to see him tied to a chair, his mouth tinged purple.

“Did they…,”

“Yeah, two bags full of candy,” he muttered. “I can already feel it taking effect. My reflexes are slower, and I feel sluggish.”

“Dean, I feel so tired,” you whispered, watching the blood leave you through the IV.

“That’s from blood loss,” he muttered. “Y/N, stay as still and as calm as possible. We’ll figure something out.”

“Dean, I think it’s going to be too late,” you whispered, already noticing how cold your body felt.

“It is too late,” the woman announced from the doorway. “You’ve already lost most of your blood. In a moment, you’ll be nothing but a lifeless body, another tasty meal for me and my husband.”

“No!” Dean yelled, pulling at his bindings, as your eyes closed, and the last breath left your body.

“No!” Sophia exclaimed, tossing her stuffed animal to the side. “These stories have been scary, but she can’t die!”

“That’s what it says in the story,” Zach argued. “I can’t change what it says.”

“I like her, and I want her ending up with Dean. So I say she can’t die,” Sophia insisted.

“And how do you expect to change it?” Tyler asked her.

Thinking for a moment, Sophia pulled out her marker, taking the book from her brother’s hands. At first she thought he was going to fight her, but he gave up the book, and she quickly wrote in the limited space. “There, that’s better.”

“Sophia, I don’t think that will work,” Zach started to say, but she just glared at him. “Fine, I’ll read it.”

“Thank you,” she answered, sitting back.

With a deep breath, Y/N shot straight up, as far as the chains would let you. Breathing heavily, your eyes wide and frantic, you stared around the room. Dean was no longer in the chair, and the woman lay bloody off to the side, her head no longer attached. You could hear voices in the other room, and you struggled against the chains.

“Dean, you know Cas won’t be able to bring her back,” Sam was saying. “We need to get her out of here, and give her a hunter’s funeral.”

“This isn’t right!” Dean was arguing. “She wasn’t meant to die this way! I knew something was wrong, I should have made her stay back at the motel!”

“Do you think she would have? This is Y/N we’re talking about. She died trying to save children, and that’s what matters.”

“Sam, I never got the chance to tell her,” Dean’s voice softened as you stilled. “Why didn’t I tell her?”

“I’m sorry,” Sam told his brother. “I wish things were different, I really do.”

Footsteps were heard as they came back into the room. You could tell the exact moment they noticed you, both men freezing in their spots, their eyes wide as they stared your way. “Y/N?” Dean breathed, but Sam placed a hand on his chest, stopping him.

“Dean, this could be a trick.”

“Y/N, how are you…,”

“I don’t know,” you whispered. “I remember dying, and then suddenly, I’m back.”

They both came forward, Sam with his silver knife in his hands. Carefully, he slid it across your skin, his eyes widening as you made no reaction. “Dean, I think it’s really her. Somehow, she was brought back.”

As soon as Sam said those words, Dean was undoing your chains, pulling you into his arms. “Damn it Y/N, I thought I had lost you.”

“You had. I have no idea why I’m back,” you answered, scared. “Do you think it has to do with, whatever’s going on?”

“I think that’s our only answer. If we could figure out what is going on,” Dean muttered, just as Sam came into the room, a piece of paper in his hands. It was yellowed, the words faded.

“Dean, I think you need to see this,” he spoke up, handing the paper over to him. From your spot, you could barely make out the printed words, along with words written in childish script, in bright red marker.

“Y/N, this is exactly what happened to you and I,” Dean stuttered. “And this writing here. I think it’s what brought you back to life!”

“Does that mean we’re living in some sort of book?” You asked, both brothers staring at each other with wide eyes, no one having the answer.

Dean/Jensen Tags:@acreativelydifferentlove @a-girl-who-loves-disney @akshi8278 @anokhi07 @aubreystilinski @bebravekeeponfighting @brindz30 @colette2537 @crusadedean @deanwinchesters-impala67 @haelyn @horsegirly99 @ikeneasul11 @its-not-a-tulpa @just-another-winchester @lady-phoenix-of-tardis @librarygeekery @msimpala67 @love-charmer-sketch @ria132love @ruprecht0420 @shadowhunter7 @sizzlingbearpolice @sleep-silent-angel @sortaathief @superseejay721517 @torn-and-frayed @wonderfulworldofwinchester

Stories to Awaken Terror Tags: @joseyrw @suckystoryteller @salt-n-burn-em-all @wingedcatninja @waywardbaby @waywardnerd67 @horsegirly99 @profoundly-bitchy-collection @jae-sch @sociopathtime @depressed-moose-78 @sophiebobzz @oreosatmidnight @librarygeekery @winchesterxtwo @asirammm @itsmerighthere @squirrelnotsam @karmamariejoy @linki-locks11 @xthelittlethings @incredibly-sarcastic-url @alwayskeepfightingkaz-2y5 @imascio08 @deansbabygirl01 @deansgirl215 @sasquatch5 @kay18115 @gh0stgurl @quackerstheduck663057 @photos-by-16 @idk-wtf-is-happening @pheonyxstorm

Forever Tags(CLOSED):

@16wiishes @4401lnc @algud @amanda-teaches @andreaaalove @angelsandwinchesters @anspgene @artisticpoet @atc74 @be-amaziing @bemyqueenofdarkness @bohowitch @bumber-car-s @brooke-supernatural16  @brunettechick @camelotandastronauts @captainradicalpassion @chelsea072498 @clairese1980 @captainemwinchester @createdbybadappreciation @darthdeziewok @destiels-new-girl @donnaintx @dont-you-dare-say-misha @dslocum89 @duckieburns @docharleythegeekqueen @emmazach @emilicious-7 @emoryhemsworth @ericaprice2008  @esoltis280 @essie1876 @generalgoldfishldrm @goldenolaf25 @growningupgeek @herbologystudent252 @heyitscam99 @highfunctioning-soiciopath @hms-fangirl @hobby27 @ichooseeternalplaces @imboredsueme @internationalmusicteacher @ithinkimadorable-67 @iwriteaboutdean  @jayankles @jensen-gal @just-another-busy-fangirl @karlee-fay-my-wayward-son @keelzy2 @leanbeankeane @lifelovelaughangell123 @li-ssu @littleblue5mcdork  @lowlyapprentice @luciferslucille @maui137 @mellowlandrunaway @mogaruke @nanie5 @natashacamillaus @newtospnfandom @offbeatsilhouette @percussiongirl2017 @pilaxia @pizzarollpatrol @plaid-lover-bay25 @ronja-uebrick @rosegoldquintis @roxyspearing @samanddeanmyheroes @sandlee44 @shamelesslydean @sillesworldofwriting @sgarrett49 @skyewardolicitycloisdelena91 @smoothdogsgirl @spnbaby-67 @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester @spnwoman @sunskittlex @starry-chaos @superbadassnatural @thebikiniinspector @theflameontheinside @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @tina8009 @totallovelesson @tunadean @whimsicalrobots @walkslikesummeractslikerain @whimsicalrobots @wildlandfox @winchesterbrothers-inc @winchesterxtwo @winchester-writes @worldwidehansum @zombiewerewolfqueen

#stories to awaken terror #dean winchester x reader #supernatural x reader #supernatural reader insert #katy writes #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester series #supernatural series

[buckywintersoldierbarnes2017]

A Hidden Pain - Part 8

Original request from anon: Could you please write a Bucky x reader where she works as the teams assistant? She’s got a violent bf but no one knows about it until he assaults her at one of Starks parties. Bucky steps in and kicks his ass. He helps her move out of her place to live with him since he’s got his own floor at the tower.

Note: Thank you to the amazing @buckysmetal-arm for being my beta on this! I apologise that you had to google one of the terms I used (lol) and for anyone else who is a little unsure about it. Where it says ‘pull his finger out’ it is an English term for ‘stop hesitating or wasting time and start to act’. Bucky x Abused!Reader (Steve x Reader) Words: 2,253 Warnings: Heartbreak, angst, language, upset and mentions of blood. Disclaimer: None of the GIFs used are mine so all credit goes to their wonderful creators <3

A Hidden Pain Masterlist

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11

A pair of strong arms wrapped around you as Steve lifted you up from your bed, being careful not to allow the IV line to rip out from your hand, and lowered you into a wheelchair that Bruce had brought into the infirmary for you. Your heart was pounding away but it wasn’t for a good reason, this was because the uncertainty of where he was taking you made you feel nervous to the point where you were convinced you were about to throw up.

When he wheeled you out from the room you had spent the past few weeks in you prayed that he would press the button in the elevator that would take you up to the living quarters, that he had simply fallen asleep in his room or something, because the other scenario that was running through your mind was one you didn’t even want to start contemplating; there was no way, after what he’d said to you, that he would take that route….or was that just you trying to reassure yourself a little too much?

The doors of the elevator closed in front of you and although there was a part of you that didn’t want to see what floor was pressed your curiosity won over and your eyes drifted over just as an unusually quiet Steve pushed his thumb down onto the ‘Basement Level’ button.

There was only one thing down in the basement and that was the research facility, that was where…..

“No.” The word that escaped your lips was abrupt enough to snap the blonde out of whatever daze it was he had allowed himself to go into and look down at you. “Take me back Steve.”

“[y/n]….” He knew why you were reacting the way you were but as one of his closest friends he wasn’t about to let you go into denial about this. It wasn’t going to get you anywhere or make this any easier. “….you need to see him.”

Maybe there was still a chance that the scenario currently running through your mind was no more than a fabrication of your paranoid mind, maybe he was just down here having some tests done, you would be wheeled into the room and he would turn to look at you with that gorgeous smile of his lighting up his face and this whole nightmare would finally be over.

The corridor you were faced with as the doors slid open was eerily quiet and a complete contrast to all the other levels of the tower that were bustling with people; something which only added to your already nervous state. It was only a matter of a few feet between the elevator and the research facility doors but it was like everything was playing out in slow motion – either that or Steve was going deliberately slow out of fear as to how you would react.  He spoke into the intercom system that was fixed onto the wall next to the secured door and after notifying a member of the team of your arrival a loud buzz sounded out, causing you to jump slightly, and the doors automatically opened before you.

Please be there…..Please be there…..

Your eyes closed as this thought ran through your mind on an endless loop but once the bed inside the room came into view you saw that it was unoccupied. He wasn’t sat there waiting for you. Steve wheeled you past it and towards a large capsule that was on the far side of the room. Even through the frosted up glass you could see him, his face being the clearest part of him, and that was when any resolve you’d had just crumbled away completely; there was no hope that he would be waiting for you somewhere because he was right in front of you….frozen. Completely dead to the world around him.

“He said he wouldn’t leave me….” The raw emotion inside of you raked at your voice, causing it to sound rather meek, but then your anger took over and what was once barely above a whisper soon became a shout. “YOU SAID YOU WOULDN’T LEAVE ME!!”

All thought of the wheelchair and the IV line attached to you was gone as you pushed yourself up onto your feet and stormed towards the capsule. Almost immediately the line snagged but nothing was going to hold you back from reaching him and eventually it was pulled out of your hand completely, a trail of blood escaping the hole it had created, and when you were close enough you balled up your hands and started to pound on the glass as though you were physically punching him. The research team moved over to you but Steve placed up a single hand to stop them from doing so.

“It’s fine. Just let her get it out of her system.”

It was breaking his heart to see the anger and the pain coursing through you; all the mental preparation he had put himself through to deal with this inevitability and it hadn’t worked. He wanted nothing more than to scoop you up into his arms and hold you close, tell you everything was going to be okay, but he knew his words would fall on deaf ears.

“You bastard! Come back!” You didn’t mean the derogatory term that escaped your lips, you weren’t even angry at him, you were angry at yourself but your emotions were all over the place that you weren’t entirely sure how to handle them. Your chest heaved with the hysterical sobs wracking your body and after a while you became far too lightheaded to remain standing and the effect of your injuries kicking back in caused you to slide down the capsule until you were slumped on the floor. “This is all my fault. I should…I should never have got him involved.”

Steve was down by your side just seconds after you had hit the floor, his arms wrapped around you as he pulled you into him close.

“He was never going to sit back and allow Josh to treat you the way that he did [y/n]. He chose to get involved….none of this is your fault.” The blood was trickling faster down your hand now causing Steve’s concern for you to grow. “Come on let’s go get that hand of yours fixed up yeah?”

“No. I’m not leaving him Steve.”

“[y/n].” A sigh escaped from him, his chest rising and then falling heavily as he did. “I know you want to be here with him but we don’t know how long he is going to be in there for. He could be in here for a matter of weeks or….” The blonde’s comforting tone faltered slightly as his own emotion started to get the better of him but he bit it back as much as he could to stay strong for you. “….it could be years before they find a way to wipe those words.”

“Well then I guess that’s how long I am going to be down here for.” You wanting to stay here with him was, in your eyes, the least you could do after everything he had gone through. It had all been because he wanted to keep you safe and now it was your turn to do that for him. “He is going to need a friendly face here when he wakes up, AS SOON as he wakes up and I want that to be me. He’ll need to know that I am okay.”

“You know. This is exactly why I always knew you two would get along with each other.” He pulled himself away from you but only enough so that his lips could move towards your ear and send a playful whisper down it. “You are both stubborn arses, but it’s why I love you both.”

A small laugh rolled from your lips causing you to wince as a pain rippled through the stitches that were still helping to heal the wound that had been caused by the knife. You knew that you had a long road to recovery yourself but the medical team would be more than capable of looking after you down here and as for your work, well, paperwork could be done anywhere and meetings could be done via video link – there was no reason why you couldn’t do this.

“But if you’re determined to do this then you are going to have to put up with me being here for the next week.” Although the expression on your face made it very clear you were more than a little confused at the moment he didn’t give you the chance to voice this before he was explaining himself. “I took myself off mission duty while you were in your coma and I am not going back out on the field until I know you are alright.”

“I would be a fool to pass up the chance to spend time with Captain America himself. Come on, make yourself useful and help me up.”

Like a soldier that had just received an order from their Commanding Officer Steve jumped up onto his feet quickly and before you’d even had time to hold out your hand to him you found yourself up on your feet with his arms around you for support. Your bleeding hand rested on his chest, the blood threatening to fall upon his shirt and stain it, while your other rested on the capsule door. You ran your fingertips along it as though you were tracing light patterns on the chest of the very person who lay inside it, wishing that was the case.

“I told him I loved him Steve. I finally told him how I feel and….”

He didn’t need this. You had lost the man you loved but compared to Steve you had barely known him at all. He must have been completely devastated that his friend was gone again.

“He loves you too [y/n]. I have known Buck my whole life and I have never seen him care for someone as much as he does you. I know it doesn’t mean the same coming from my lips but I swear that you will hear it from him one day.”

His hands guided you back over to your wheelchair but not before you shakily stood yourself up onto your tiptoes and placed a soft kiss onto the glass where his lips were.

“Could I just have a few minutes alone with him?”

Your question is directed at both Steve and the research team that were currently in the room and without even hesitating Steve signalled for the staff members to follow him into the corridor outside. He’d always been one of the truest gentleman you’d ever had the pleasure of meeting and you were going to make sure that you were there for him just as much as he has been, and will continue to be, for you. Sharon Carter was going to be one heck of a lucky woman once he pulled his finger out and took her on a date.

Mental note to self: Get Steve to realise just how amazing they two of them would be together.

Smiling to yourself your [e/c] eyes fell back onto the capsule with your sleeping love inside. In all the time you had known him you’d never seen him at so much peace; it was something you had longed for him to experience, albeit not exactly in this way, for his mind truly was broken – you had just always thought that you would be the one to help him repair it.

“You know….I’m fully aware that you don’t like to feel my wrath Buck but this is pretty extreme even for you.” You let out a soft laugh before your eyes drifted down to your interlocked hands on your lap, a more serious tone taking the place of the playful one. “You didn’t have to do this. I know how you feel about being dead to the world and I would never have wished this upon my worst enemy…I just wish you’d have spoken to me first. Waited until I woke up.”

Your emotions were beginning to consume you once again, a choked sob hitting your throat, but you forced the tears back and willed yourself to continue. This situation was about as bad as it could get and the last thing you needed was to lose control completely. You needed to be strong for him whether he was even aware that you were there or not. If he could see you now he would probably be laughing at the fact that you were crying over him…actually no he would be so goddamn cocky about it, self-inflating his ego. The very thought was enough to bring a genuine smile onto your face.

“Guess I am just gonna have to make sure you don’t forget about me. Then when you wake up I can slap you into the other side of next week for doing this to me.”

So you started to reminisce a little, talking out loud about all the crazy times you’d had with the super soldier, completely forgetting that a certain other soldier was waiting with bated breath for you to allow him back inside. The two most important people in his life were behind these doors, both of whom were hurting even if one was incapable of feeling it right now, and he needed to be in there with you.

Permanent tag list (still open):@fallenfairy16 @brieflybigwonderland @frolicsomefawkes @psychicwitchphilosopher @elwenia @imsecretlyromanburki @elaacreditava @marvel-fanfiction@wantingtobekorra @fandom-rpblog @just-call-me-your-darling @deanwinnchesterisbae @gayvvarden @marshmellowgems11 @justreadingfics @cinema212 @cassandras-musings @adellyhatter-blog @engineeringgirlcve @thewinterswimmer @buckyappreciationsociety @mizzzpink @hopelessgarbage @mary-is-coolbeans @fourtyninekirbygamzeegirl @noir-agneau @holywinchesterness @katie27hp @purplekitten30 @abbybills22 @misticalnellie @alwayshave-faith @sammnipple @upon-a-girl@yknott81@melconnor2007 @fadedsmile911@avc212 @milychetto @elsatheizequeen

Story tag list: @harleycativy @magellan-88 @bexboo616 @kuren-chan @sebstanwassup @evyiione @imstuckyonyou @luv-what-you-do @chipilerendi @gimmebuckysloveorelse @snapplejuice @deepnachodelusion  @irunintospace @iratebamboo

#a hidden pain #bucky x reader #steve x reader #hydra #cryo #marvel imagine #the avengers #stark tower #captain america #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers x reader #not my gifs #request #answered #buckywintersoldierbarnes2017 #the winter soldier #the winter soldier x reader #sebastian stan #chris evans