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#the youth who learned to shiver and shake
princesssarisa · 2 years
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Character ask: The Youth Who Went Forth to Learn What Fear Is
Tagged by @ariel-seagull-wings
Favorite thing about them: The sheer comedy of his nonchalant responses to terrifying things. Not only is he never afraid, he doesn't even treat the ghosts, goblins, and horrors he faces as anything out of the ordinary. That's the key to the story's humor.
Least favorite thing about them: The fact that he has seemingly no interest in working to help support his family unless it will teach him how to shudder. Of course laziness is a typical trait of rags-to-riches peasant heroes in fairy tales, but I'm glad the adaptations tend to downplay it and just make him quirky instead.
Also, while the ending is funny, with the princess finally making him shudder by drenching him in cold water filled with wriggling minnows, it's slightly disappointing that he never does learn to feel fear. It's no wonder that adaptations tend to change the ending so that something finally does scare him: whether touchingly (e.g. in The Storyteller's episode "Fearnot," when he finds his sweetheart dying of grief from his absence) or humorously (e.g. in Faerie Tale Theatre's "The Boy Who Left Home to Find Out About the Shivers," with his nervousness about getting married).
Three things I have in common with them:
*I tend to feel different from other people. (autism)
*I sometimes don't understand things that most people understand perfectly well. (again, autism)
*Sometimes my different way of thinking causes problems, but at other times it's actually helpful.
Three things I don't have in common with them:
*I'm far from fearless.
*My parents have never kicked me out.
*I'm female.
Favorite line:
When he sees the half-man fall down the chimney:
"Hey, you need another half still; one is not enough." 
From the 1947 Let's Pretend radio adaptation, after the princess "teaches him how to shiver" with a bucket of ice water at the end:
"W-w-well, f-f-f-for Pete’s sake, t-t-t-teach me how to stop!"
From the Faerie Tale Theatre adaptation, in response to a zombie trying to scare him:
"One other thing. About your howl? I think you're using your voice wrong. You want to build from here. (points to his stomach) Right? You want to build from here. (pokes the zombie in the stomach - his hand squishes right through his skin) Sorry... Listen to me. From here. AAAAAAHHHHHHH!!! You try it.
brOTP: None in the Grimms' tale. But in the loose adaptation from Jim Henson's The Storyteller, "Fearnot," there's Mr. McKay, the cunning tinker who leads him to the scary places, initially just for money, but who eventually becomes his true friend.
OTP: The princess, or in Storyteller adaptation, his village sweetheart Lidia.
nOTP: Any of the monsters he meets.
Random headcanon: He's autistic. Now of course this is an anachronistic viewpoint; he's just meant to be a lucky fool, like so many other peasant boys in fairy tales. But the fact that he specifically can't relate to an emotion which comes naturally to everyone else, that he doesn't pick up on the emotional vibes that other people do in key situations, and that he has a hyperfixation (learning to shudder) and no interest in practical things that don't relate to that fixation... well, all those things sound familiar.
Viewing him from this perspective, I feel better about the fact that he never learns to feel fear: he'll always be different and that's okay.
Unpopular opinion: I don't think I have one, because his story isn't particularly well known. The best I can think of is that it deserves to be retold more often, especially around Halloween: its blend of spookiness and comedy is underrated.
Song I associate with them: None at the moment.
Favorite picture of them:
This illustration by Albert Weisgerber, showing him riding in the moving bed:
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This illustration by H.J. Ford, showing the scene where the sexton tries to scare him disguised as a ghost:
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This picture of the same scene by Maurice Sendak:
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This illustration of the bowling scene (I don't know the artist):
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This illustration by Arthur Rackham:
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This illustration by Dagmar Hermann:
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Peter MacNicol in the 1984 Faerie Tale Theatre adaptation, "The Boy Who Left Home to Find Out About the Shivers":
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Reece Dinsdale in the 1987 adaptation from Jim Henson's The Storyteller, "Fearnot":
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Tim Oliver Schultz in the 2014 adaptation from the German series Sechs auf einen Strech:
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Ever-playful and fierce on the battlefield, Jing Yuan in his youth always seemed like lightning in a bottle, filled with a near endlessly restless energy even when doing nothing. Head held high, confident, eager to learn; his enthusiasm was a voracious one.
And yet, there was a moment in Jing Yuan's life when he became oddly withdrawn.
It's hard to say what happened; only four people were with Jing Yuan in that moment, and none of them remain as they once were. Jing Yuan himself never speaks of this time, and the other people who might have remembered the young man when he was still under the Sword Champion's tutelage are long gone.
They'd been victorious yet again this night, their enemies of the Abundance no more on this planet. As if to punctuate their success, the star of this system, now rising low on the horizon, had broken through the clouds and bathed them in the reddish-golden light of dawn.
Nothing could stop them. They're all sure of it, basking in the light.
But when the sun's rays touch the white lion he gasps, reeling back and clutching his head. He can't even call the overwhelming sensation that strikes him pain -- more like a burst of static, and an icy chill that pierces his skull and spreads down his spine and numbs his fingers.
"Jing Yuan!"
He thinks he hears someone cry his name, but he's not sure; not with the crackling drone in his ears and the images racing in his mind.
-- there's a toy sword in his tiny hands, barely large enough to wrap around his father's finger -- he's sitting in a tree, watching the latest regimen training under the sunlight of the Luofu -- he's tucking a military book between the cover of his texts for tomorrow's assignment -- there's shouting --
"Jing Yuan? Jing Yuan!"
-- It's late as he hoists himself through his window -- he's on the ground, his master standing over him, expression as cold as winter -- a bushy-tailed girl scampers up a tree and shrieks, not expecting him to leap up and follow suit -- the heat of a furnace, sweat clinging to white hair and skin -- the taste of tea under the light of the moon -- the shivers that race under his skin as his fingers make contact with the glaive, his glaive, for the first time, and it is his and it knows it is his and the thrum of its power reverberates in his chest --
He thinks someone is shaking him.
-- there's blood -- ginkgo leaves scatter to the winds, smoke from the remains of a fire wafting into the sky -- Master looks him square in the eye, makes him pledge to never hold back -- the countless battles he's been in, the warmth of the sun -- the map and plots he himself had drawn out for this very battle, the sound and feeling of his palm slamming decisively on the table --
"Jing Yuan! What's wrong with him!?"
Yingxing grabs him, cups his face, and his eyes are
-- his eyes are red. For a moment, just a moment, they are red, the color of blood, of fire, unnaturally red, and his hair is indigo, it should be white --
wide with concern, confusion, alarm. "Jing Yuan, your eye-..." Imbibitor Lunae hovers behind him, and
-- Jing Yuan catches a flicker of chains shackling him down, blood staining his front --
Baiheng is clinging to him now, he can feel her holding him, supporting him, ears flattened against her head as she looks helplessly at his mentor.
-- he sees a ruined starskiff --
His master
-- he sees her, ruined, wrecked, frozen soldiers dot the field around them and her eyes are - were - will be? - the same shade as Yingxing's --
steps forward, and suddenly he can't look at her, because in the place of the rising sun behind her is a single, giant mechanical eye with a red ring of light, and its laser focus is directed at them, boring down on him, and then he blinks and it's gone and he gasps and heaves and he's shaking, trembling like a leaf. His legs give out then and Yingxing is quick to support him from his other side. The way the High Elder presses a cool hand to his forehead makes him belatedly aware of the cold sweat that had broken out across his entire body and he's sure, then, so very sure by the furrow of Imbibitor Lunae's eyebrows that the dread forming a knot in his stomach is real, and it doesn't go away even after his shaking subsides.
"Your eye..." Yingxing murmurs quietly then, holding him securely, worry etched all over his face, "it was only for a fraction of a second, but it... it was reflecting a red light."
"...You didn't see it?"
"See what, Jing Yuan?"
And Jing Yuan remembers red irises and indigo hair and a giant eye eclipsing the sun and his blood turns to ice.
After they returned to the Luofu, Jing Yuan remained quiet for several days. His master told him he'd only frozen up for a few moments before collapsing, but it was hard for him to believe, and she could see it. If the members of the High Cloud Quintet noticed the distant look in Jing Yuan's expression that crossed his face at random intervals, or the odd tremor in his hand, they didn't say anything. Eventually, this strange period came to pass, and Jing Yuan went back to smiling and laughing and roughhousing as he used to.
But none could say he was ever quite the same after that.
There was always something he didn't say.
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rriavian · 4 months
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WIP Wednesday
Nanowrimo is almost over and I am very very close to 50k! So in celebration please enjoy another snippet of Role Reversal AU (if anyone has any ideas for a title please let me know I am so bad at coming up with them).
Last time was the Corinthian, so I hope you enjoy a little bit of Nightmare Morpheus :)
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A child was transient, Morpheus a warped stagnancy now in what he was instead, the horror of that no understatement. It was exactly what was supposed to sink into the humans that beheld him. A recognition too, a knowledge of what it meant.
There were children who didn’t grow up, after all.
There were children who were dead.
Humans understood that pause when they looked at him. They understood how it was potential arrested, snatched, momentum halted; destiny revealed, the limit of their age exposed, youth a period of endless possibility and yet not a single guarantee. One could be taken from it before life could even flush ones cheeks. Before life could even kiss ones brow.
And when it did Morpheus came.
He slipped into dreams—those of a parent, a sibling—he slipped into their minds and watched as they realised what he was. It was part of his role, the waiting, the setting of the scene. There were times where recognition was immediate, others where it took far longer, took time enough for it to be fun, for skill to tease itself free until a mind shivered apart for him, shivered apart for itself. That was his gift. In the end tension always broke, a held thing let go, made free, and though he was often a recurring nightmare Morpheus always soothed in the end.
Though he was not soothing now.
A dreamer was supposed to be tricked into thinking he was a child.
He was an image of famine, of disease, of death; what had already come for them, what now haunted past its leaving, what he would be forever but would prove to them was not all they had. His King’s sibling may be death Herself, but Morpheus was something of it too—that a bold claim, yet no attempt at stealing godhood—it was truth that he was the ruin left behind because Death of the Endless was a companion for departure.
Her role was not to comfort those still alive.
That was left to him.
A duty Morpheus did well; the Greeks knew of him, whispered of this child god, murmured stories of this omen that would come only when a funeral shroud was small.
When a coffin could be borne by one.
Morpheus did his duty while Death took hold of little hands, while she guided every lost child to their resting place, the truth of that never able to be known. How could one learn that their child had not died alone? It would have been a comfort, perhaps, might have been a relief, might have been a cause for anger too. It might have inspired rage, the desire to spit in Death’s face just as likely as the urge to whisper ‘please be gentle’. Such a thing was not her duty, an unfair expectation on Death’s role, disallowed perhaps for how it would add to the very breadth of her burden.
Morpheus knew he offered a second moment.
He allowed a second chance, knew for all they’d recognise him first they needed to truly look. That not always easy, dreamers saw their children in him—reached for his cheek with shaking hands, tears streaming—needed help replacing a beloved face with his terrifying own.
This dreamer was reaching for him now.
Morpheus smiled.
The woman had evaded him for days, unable to sleep after the funeral, a face familiar to him because this was not the first child she had lost. Morpheus had many like that, many who returned to him, many who needed his assistance throughout years or even decades. It was not easier for these repeated visitors; despite how old a child may have been the mind always saw them like this, no matter how old a child may have been the mind of a dreamer would always see their baby.
A hand on his shoulder.
A name that wasn’t his was whispered.
Relief in it—a wrong to be corrected—a mistaking of reality for a dream, this woman mistaking a nightmare for a dream. She pulled Morpheus into a hug, sobbed into his shoulder, ran gentle fingers through his hair and murmured how she was sorry over and over. It wasn’t a prayer, no hope in it at all, a confessed sin instead. A misplaced one. This was the start of what would be her journey—what road he walked with these dreamers the same as his King’s sister walked with their children—Morpheus let her hold him, stood still, waited because it would not take long now.
There were more mumbled words, more tears soaking his skin, more grief spilling out as she pulled him closer.
And then she noticed it.
The cold.
In truth it had been there all along. Morpheus knew the moment that she realised she felt it. Radiating out of skin like ice, no numbing touch to it though, no allowance for escape because this was a cold that froze to an agony like fire. The setting shock of it forced her back, instinct this recoil from what she was convinced had been the child she loved, and it was then that she found the deep darkness of his eyes, the bloodless lips, the white skin. The black clothes that adorned him soft like spider silk, this a creature that would devour a child while wearing its face.
“What is wrong, dreamer?” Morpheus said.
Her eyes widened.
The voice dispelled the last of what had never even been a façade, some cruel amalgamation instead, some twisted elegance in what had taken the definition of a child and combined it into this. Horror beat the way a heart did, the way grief didn’t, could take a pulseless thing and make it live by allowing it to scream. The truth was spoken gently; Morpheus spoke quietly, always so softly, but his voice was low and deep.
There was nothing of a child there at all.
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daisychainsandbowties · 10 months
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beatrice the last surviving scion of a fourth house family that has poured child soldier after child soldier into the emperor's battlefronts as cannon fodder, as fit for little more than making larger initial thanergy blooms by virtue of their youth. beatrice raised to die but kept from that end by cohort intervention (cough second house cough) keeping her off the front lines until she's older and feeling bereft at that loss, at not being allowed to be the weapon and the bomb she was raised to be (after all, what more are the fourth meant for than blowing things up and dying). beatrice whose faith remains strong, who lives by the fidelity of the fourth, who can verge on reckless, and self-sacrificing and be so, so, so angry
fourth house beatrice who has always seen herself as a blunt instrument, sitting up at night counting each cell in her body, always found by the dawn before she finds the end of her power.
beatrice who reads reports from the front lines, descriptions in unvarnished terms of whole cities alight in death. necromancers soaking up that initial bloom of thanergy as soldiers disappear into a fog of blood and ash.
the horrible artistry of it; of bones shivering up out of the dirt, shields made of flesh and grease traps of human fat. bea reading about death from the sidelines where she is sidelined. hungry for the feeling that comes with the star-crushing gravity at the heart of thanergic fission. she is the last of her line and racing towards her destiny, her purpose, her power
the transmutation of death into glory.
bea in her little navy-and-white uniform, the colors of the fourth house, trying to prove herself. learning every theorem she can find, reaching outside the purview of her house for a touch of bone magic, of flesh magic, staying far away from psychometry and anything that seeks to speak with the dead because she doesn’t want to look at the past. let the dead rest but let them be useful first.
the fourth motto is fidelity, facing ahead, so bea takes what is useful. anything, everything, learning how to chart the points of bright contact, stripping life to make death, always trying to understand how things come undone, how they die, because that is her calling, her purpose. to give death meaning, to take sacrifice and make it light.
and then she meets a girl. a wildcard from the fifth who arrives on Tisis with something to prove, who challenges every last person seeking to fill the position of cav to the last living scion of a powerful family, the would-be heir who will never inherit because she’s like an arrow, like a knife.
ava, who comes in laughing and emerges bleeding, victorious, from the dueling ring. who takes bea’s hand into her own bloody fist and makes her feel as though she’s already on fire, the heat-death she’s been seeking given a body and a face and a playful smile. a cavalier who makes stupid puns and asks questions about everything (‘but bea, i need to know how your magic works so we can coordinate. you know, strategise!) and bea saying to her again again again ‘i make bombs. i die and i make it matter, that’s all.’
ava who keeps asking why. why do you have to die? and there’s no answer for it beyond tradition, beyond the fact that what bea has mastered is a cruel and incredible strength. no one wants a bone magician from the fourth. no one wants to shake her hand when she’s twenty and her bones ache because she belongs to her grave. (and she doesn’t get buried. she’s an explosion)
beatrice who learns to fight with ava, who watches ava spar with shannon, transfixed by the flow of her. the raw kineticism of blade and body aligned, the bright flashing point of her blade and her wild smile. and mary, who is standing on the sidelines with bea trying to explain how to absorb thalergy more efficiently, leans back and says, ‘oh shit, you like her.’
denying it furiously but later sitting in the caf staring at ava while she attacks a bowl of gruel, sipping coffee and nibbling on a biscuit and for once in her life wishing the meal could last forever, that she could just sit there, forever, and watch ava move. wipe her mouth on the sleeve of her uniform and say a eulogy for the last part of her bread roll, every so often forcing bea to avert her eyes when she looks up.
and bea was raised in the shadow of death but here, sitting opposite her with their knees almost touching, here is light. and bea knows thalergy but she hasn’t known life - not really - until this moment.
and suddenly beatrice the fourth, whose strength is her anger and her duty and her faith, finds that she’s a little less brave. that there’s hesitation in the way she reads the reports of ground troops disappearing in thanergic fire. she keeps thinking of ava with her on the ground, and how abruptly precious bea’s body becomes because her death will not be quiet. ava who gives her pause, as nothing else ever has.
ava, who said the words to her with blood on her mouth from a split lip she took from someone’s knuckle-knife, kneeling and pressing a bloody kiss against bea’s knuckles as she said, grinning, one flesh, one end.
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eulcgizeme · 5 months
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eulcgizeme's new soundtrack for plots aka its 1989 release day and blondie popped off
I tried to do all of the songs, but then I wasn't getting bored so these are plots I really wanna do that can be brand new, or a new AU/Thread for existing pairings. They're also a plug for plots I've been talking about all week, lol. Give this a like and I'll come to you. All of these could end in burning flames or paradise. Anything with a link I will actually get on my knees for. I have some suggested characters in there for a couple of them.
WELCOME TO NEW YORK : Someone's small town best friend or long distance partner finally moves to the Big Apple to live together. It's all shiny and new but they do blind them. It turns out that they were never meant for a small town, and the one who was desperate to get out who's suddenly losing their place to them.
BLANK SPACE : A matchmaker gets paired with a Fortune 500's heir to clean up their act. The thing is they've got a roster for ex-lovers and reckless behavior. They learn about each other's victories and scars, and the matchmaker falls for them. This is most definitely for my muse, Acelin Reids (Barry Keoghan FC).
STYLE : The classic corruption trope, but twist it. Bonnie and Clyde aren't lovers, but instead two people at the wrong place at the wrong time. They escape together and have to figure out how to survive it. In an attempt to blend in and put the money that nearly cost them their lives worth it, their newfound company might not be so bad.
OUT OF THE WOODS : Holiday season comes in full swing for a couple that had slowly broken up. It's time to come home for the holidays, and its becomes apparent that they've broken up but they haven't told anyone. They decide to go home and pretend they're still together, only to fall for each other all over again. The trouble is that in their hometown they become different people, but they can't tell if they've been faking it the entire winter break or faking it ever since they moved away to fit in.
SHAKE IT OFF : Muse A is famous and getting ripped apart by the media, and their number one offender is Muse B. A scandal leaves Muse A's reputation in the hands of the other, and Muse B reveals that the only reason they've been able to rip them apart is because they're far from authentic. An enemy becomes a teacher on how to be fearless.
I WISH YOU WOULD : An old flame reunites when they crash into each other on a trip in Europe, and they become each other's company on what was suppose to be a solo trip. A summer fling turns cruel real' quick, and one begs them to do everything they promised they wouldn't to just be able to keep them around long enough to have the greatest love of their life even if it breaks them. Muse A can't commit and can't submit, and Muse B falls head over heels and tells them to treat them the way they're so scared to if it means they can have real love just once even if it's short.
BAD BLOOD : A couple divorced in their youth, and they find themselves years later at a gala as the hottest divorcee of two neighboring towns. Turns out infidelity wasn't just a one time offense. Yet, their former love is now clearly defined with their boundaries. One night can't hurt.. and then neither can another... and what if we got married again?
HOW YOU GET THE GIRL : Standing at her door at 3 AM in the pouring rain, shivering, after a six month break that should ended things... just to say "It's been a while" and give her the grand gesture she said would make or break your relationship.
THIS LOVE : This love came back from the grave when a former lover was resurrected. Muse A has to set limits on Muse B to help them live the life they took from them as they played a hand in their death, but they can't tell them they're just a ghost. They have to tell them, but will they come back to them? This is definitely a plug for Dorian Sykes (DOB FC).
NEW ROMANTICS : Enemies to lovers, but make it fun when they have to pretend to be a couple head over heels for the other for the sake of one shared goal. The only problem? When Muse A leans close and pressed their knee between their legs, they can't seem to pay attention anymore. When Muse B moves their hair that way, they can't help but look at the way their shirt lifts up and their collar bones are suddenly on display. Hate turns to lust, and it burns bright.
SAY DON'T GO : Set the scene when Muse A doesn't say "don't go"— and Muse B complies, staying away but they keep running into each other at their old haunts. Muse B belongs to them, but Muse A isn't theirs as Muse B already moved on even if it's serious. Hands brush in the dark in clubs, shoulders bump into each other in the same apartment hallway and they sometimes meet up only for one to leave in the middle of the night. Finally, Muse B tells them to say it and damns them for making them want so bad but gives them nothing at all in return.
NOW THAT WE DON'T TALK : Give me the bitter aftermath of platonic love. One pays the price of what they lost, and Muse A tells them that they can't be friends anymore.
SUBURBAN LEGENDS : And Muse A kissed in a way that was gonna screw Muse B up forever, and it does. They're trying to not think much about it but they're falling for them hard and they can't pretend like it's nothing, The girls and the guys can't be friends because Muse A puts the stars in the sky, and they won't go beyond kissing in a crowded room where everyone else laughs and Muse B dies a little inside. They decide to spare them the pain of it meaning nothing, they ruin the relationship all together so they're not even friends. It's only at the thought of losing Muse B, that Muse A realizes they can't live without them, can they?
IS IT OVER NOW? : The platonic couple breaks up, but they didn't really talk about it. Some how, they ended up on the other side the room every time they were together— alone or with friends. On a boat with their rich friends on Rhode Island, they don't stay in the same cabin. Someone's taking off her blue blouse, and someone lies in her couch and he doesn't lie in the bed. They run into each other in the hallway and they can't help but think if the other did it even if they have no leg to stand on if they did or not. They have to ask, is it over?
IS IT OVER NOW? PART TWO: Two best friends who were almost something more get torn apart by a friend group that splits them apart, pulling them out of their comfort zone with each other and pushing them back. She stands on a table to get his attention at a party, but it does nothing. He doesn't take in her hips and thighs like all she is, so she jumps off a very-tall-something vintage table so he catches her. Literally. Let's say they have some champagne problems
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thealmightyemprex · 10 months
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Fairy Tale June : Lets Pretend The Youth Who Learned To Shiver and Shake
Dont worry still doing these,just took a break not to get burnt out.Todays we will look at a radio adaptation of the "The Story of the Youth Who Went Forth to Learn What Fear Was
Ummm I usually like to have a visual representing the thing Im rviewing but this is radio so umm...Enjoy this picture of this episodes star Arthur Anderson
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In this 1947 radio episode Bud (Arthur Anderson) has never known fear and thus is going to a haunted castle not only to pass a test but really to learn what fear is
So my experience with old time radio is limited: My grandad used to have a few Shadow episodes on cassett butI was so young I didnt comprehend them,and I have listened partially to the Clan of the Firey Cross arc of Adventures of Superman .My biggest exposure to Golden Age radio is I am a fan of the Lux Radio Theater ,which adapted popular films into radio drama often with big stars .SO I have never heard of Lets Pretend,a show that adapted classic fairy tales for kids , till @princesssarisa started discussing episodes and actuallly is partially reponsible for this review by reccomending episodes for me to check out ,thanks @princesssarisa !
Now why didI pick this one ?Partially because its based on a lesser known fairy tale that I only know due to being adapted on both Shelley Duvalls Faeirie Tale Theater and Jim Hensons The Story Teller ,but mostly due to it starring radio veteren Arthur Anderson,who woulld later voice Lucky the Leprechaun for Lucky Charms and replace Lionel Wilson as the voice of Eustace Bagge in childhood favorite Courage The Cowardly Dog .Anderson was a regular in Lets Pretend ,but this was his only lead role in an episode
Now sadly I dont have much to say other then...I thought this was cute .It is very similar to Shelley Duvalls adaptation,and being a comical tale it was fun .I think Anderson did a good job ,though I was less then impressed by the spooky castle scene though this is the first version I have encountered that I am aware keeps the original ending .I definately wanna check out more
Overall had a good time
@ariel-seagull-wings @filmcityworld1 @the-blue-fairie @autistic-prince-cinderella @princesssarisa @themousefromfantasyland@amalthea9 @scarletblumburtonofeastlondon @theancientvaleofsoulmaking @angelixgutz
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balsamfir-fics · 2 years
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a hope at risk (part 3)
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Genres: angst, 99% canon (eps 6-9), more angst, smut, established childhood crushes to strangers to lovers, post-pining, becoming machine herald (sort of)
Pairing: Viktor/Female Reader
Warnings: Sky’s character death in this chapter.
Summary: For nearly two decades after you waltzed out of Viktor's life as the childhood friend who broke his heart, he hoped to forget you. Now that you're back, firmly settled in his life and his arms, he wants nothing more than to live, to love, to dream. With a terminal diagnosis you've yet to learn about in a city waiting to erupt into war, however, Viktor realizes this is a fight for survival against all odds. But he can't lose you again. He won't. He hopes.
Chapters: Prelude | Part 1 | Part 2 [M] | Part 3 | Part 4 [FINAL]
Chapter Word Count: ~5.3k
Author Notes: Unedited. Sequel to a hope never forgotten. This work can be read independently of its predecessor – though reading that first will more thoroughly contextualize Viktor and YN’s relationship. Prequel summarized below for those who don’t have time to read it!
Prequel summary: If you are reading this without having seen the previous work, this is the debrief: YN is Heimerdinger’s adopted daughter; YN and Viktor are childhood friends who grew up together between the ages of 10-16 and separated at 16 immediately after an unspoken confession of love. The uncertainty and cowardice of youth prevent YN from keeping contact until twelve years pass. Over the next five years the two keep orbiting each other, gravity pulling them closer, until Viktor’s hospital stint as per Episode 5 forces YN to reckon with their lifetime of love. The end of A Hope Never Forgotten sees Viktor’s seventeen-year-long hope and longing fulfilled.
A Hope Never Forgotten follows Arcane canon up to Episode 5; this work will follow Arcane canon until the end of all currently available content (Episode 9). This piece borrows themes from prior League of Legends lore, but following the events of Episode 9 it will become an imagined ‘what comes next’ as we wait for the events of Season 2.
The prior work deals primarily with holding onto hope; this one deals with themes of loss and survival. Both are about decisions made and avoided.
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Bolstered by your simple wish for him to be physically restored and recovered, Viktor spins his wheels and heads right back to the lab. He scribbles more notes, questions his science, then scribbles some more. When he thinks he’s finally ready to take the plunge, he lifts his scalpel with shaking fingers. He’s not nervous; that’s not what it is. He’s hopeful—hopeful that this technology might save him, that he might be given a new lease on life. It’s with this trembling anticipation that he etches fresh runes all over his remaining skin, glancing every few minutes at the shining purple liquid in his syringe gun. It’d only be one more time, he reasons with himself. If my calculations are correct, I won’t ever need to take Shimmer again. It’s for her—no. It’s for us. For me. For our future. The Hexcore whirrs and shivers. It beckons to Viktor; he stares into its light. It takes effort to tear his gaze away and focus on the runes, but he manages to do so, one painstaking cut at a time. Footsteps echo in the hallway, but he doesn’t hear them above the buzzing of the Hexcore. Runes complete, Viktor stands with a grunt. His breathing is labored. Adrenaline pulses through every fiber of his being, every neuron willing this to work, every cell craving more of the heady hope and alluring pull the Hexcore gives. He takes a deep inhale to brace himself for the pain he knows will come, drags the scalpel through his palm, and slowly extends his arm towards gleaming light. It wants him, and he wants everything it can give him. A beat of silence passes through the room. Then everything explodes in a burst of light. It’s every bit as excruciating as the first time, if not more. Time both slows to a standstill and speeds up to oblivion around him; he’s vaguely aware of papers flying and wind howling. All he knows for sure is that something white-hot is blazing up his arm and through his body, ripping his cells apart and bringing them back together in something new, deadly, less-than (or more-than?)-human. His mouth is probably open. He doesn’t know. Maybe his teeth are gritted; there’s definitely a sharp pain in his jaw, but Viktor can’t exactly tell where his reactionary pain starts and the Hexcore torture begins. Something clatters behind him. Makes sense; this miniature tornado he’s more or less brought upon himself seems to be throwing things around the room amidst the screaming torrents. But then he feels a ring of warmth around his waist. He barely registers it at first, but it’s there. Whatever energy is pulsating from the Hexcore recoils against it, lashing out at him from within his body. He thinks he might be letting out an inhuman scream, but he’s not sure. For now, he tries to focus on the new sensation. He feels himself being pulled away, fingers now inches away from the Hexcore instead of directly atop it, but somewhere, a string snaps, and he’s dragged right back to where he was. Viktor strains against the pull of the Hexcore and fights the pressure to look down at his waist; his eyes widen in horror as he sees his assistant, Sky, clutching to him in an attempt to decouple him from the electromagnetic rune matrix. Sky looks up at him, fear evident in her irises. He blinks back, unable to tear his gaze away as she desperately screams his name. She looks unreal, like a photograph being torn apart one paper fiber at a time, and she disappears before his eyes. A loud pop sounds and he vaguely makes out the dark silhouette of a human-shaped form, but in the next second, Sky is gone, completely disintegrated.    The shadowy silhouette is gone. Pain sears through his arm as the Hexcore screams louder. NO! Viktor heads himself yell back in his brain, the word rattling against his skull. The Hexcore seems not to like that, vibrating intensely beneath his grasp before everything goes white.   ————— When consciousness returns to him this time, Viktor finds himself sprawled on the floor. Electricity flickers through his leg, then absorbs into his body. It takes him a few pained seconds to heave himself off of the floor. As his brain follows suit and kicks back into drive, his eyes catch the glint of flickering light against two panes of glass. No. “Sky?” He laboriously scrabbles towards the gold-rimmed spectacles.  “No! That can’t…” Viktor swallows thickly and pushes himself back into a seated position, his body torn between wanting to run from the evidence of his wrongdoing and to run towards the destruction in disbelief. As Sky’s ashes run through his fingers, his brilliant brain puts everything together. He reads page after page of her notes, recognizing the affection and deep respect she had for him, and the pit of guilt in his chest builds into a chasm. She was dead, and it was his fault. A wretched cry of anger erupts from his chest and he scrambles to his feet. He lifts his workbench stool and lifts it over his head with strength he didn’t know he had. Glaring down at the living purple thing, he challenges it—it shakes and sends back an equally belligerent message.   It had to be destroyed. He tries to bring down his arms to send the stool crashing into the accursed  energy, but his arms disagree with him. He can’t do it. It won’t let him. He won’t let himself.  Strength fading, he drops the stool and tries to walk away, but the thing snarls and hums behind him. Something pops and he loses one second of consciousness, crashing to the floor and clutching his leg in pain. Energy surges through his modified limbs, and the Hexcore seems to shiver in contentment.   It beckons to him all the same, calling him, taunting him, knowing he wants the secrets it has. But Viktor glares up at it from the floor, gritting his teeth and doing his best to resist its allure. —-------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Viktor arrives at the apartment in the early morning looking haunted; you only recall this later on when trying to piece everything together. But at present, you’re too sleepy to be that cognizant of your surroundings—in fact, if Viktor hadn’t dropped his crutch while rummaging around for a fresh handkerchief, you never would have woken up. A glance at your clock told you it was right before dawn. You mumble some incoherent question at Viktor, who merely presses trembling lips to your forehead and whispers for you to ‘rest peacefully, Sparrow’ in a shaky voice. He leaves the house as quickly as he’d arrived. You settle easily back into dreamless sleep, unaware of the turmoil churning within him—just as he’d intended. A few minutes past sunrise, he says his final goodbyes to Sky. Regret rips through his nervous system, tensing and relaxing his muscles in a strange dance. Every fiber of his being screams at him; WRONG WRONG WRONG! MURDERER! If his body had the energy to produce more tears, it would have, but he is spent, terrified, and beyond remorse. “I don’t know what you’d have preferred,” he mumbles to the warming morning air. He stretches a feeble arm out to collect Sky’s glasses and notebook, then he painstakingly hoists himself back onto his feet. His lungs protest by triggering more coughs; he lifts his freshly retrieved handkerchief but no sputum comes out. Crumpling the fabric in his palm, he makes to leave, then pauses. He steps back towards his seat. Viktor peers over the ledge. A precipice indeed, he thinks wryly to himself; the metaphorical edge he’d been dancing with since you came back into his life had been turned to reality. He faces his end. Perhaps it would be kinder to Sky’s memory, to you, and to himself to… expedite the process. Let him fade into your memory as he preferred to be remembered, and let him pay the price Sky never should have. Both Hextech and the Hexcore had become weapons; his life’s effort had all been for everything he stood against in the end: fear and pain instead of servitude and good. Heimerdinger had been right. It was foolish for him and Jayce to have failed to understand the wisdom of their mentor. He, and Jayce, had failed. The rushing sound of the swirling water below beckons to him, and he almost heeds its call. “Am I interrupting?” Viktor starts, stepping back away from the ledge in surprise. The waterfall below fades away as he registers Jayce’ voice; he tucks away Sky’s notes under his arm and turns towards his longtime collaborator and friend. He notes the hammer leaning against the entryway as Jayce takes a seat. Beneath him, the mechanized leg is heavy (though supportive); Viktor leans heavily into his crutch not because of his musculoskeletal shortcomings but rather the malaise that seeps deep into his bones and drains him of life. It is not lost on Viktor that he’d posed a similar question, years ago, talking the younger man down from his own cliff. Jayce brings up something from long ago—a Distinguished Innovators’ Competition that Viktor recalls being so excited for. He chuckles at the memory; flashes of an outrageously overtaxed engine come to mind, with laborious screeching and an intense fear that machinery would go flying. The acrid taste of bile rises in Viktor’s throat; a different memory of the same day, in which he’d failed to keep his meal down due to nerves and stress. “At least you didn’t throw up,” Viktor lets out a whisper of a laugh. Something in Jayce’ chest cracks as he hears the frailty and exhaustion in Viktor’s voice. Jayce offers a platitude. “Everything made sense then.” The lamentation is clear. Everything is different now, tangled in the complexities of politicking and competing interests. Viktor inhales, exhales. “You have to destroy it.” Jayce’ response is immediate. He glances at his hammer, his own mind reminding him the sins that great power is capable of. “I know—“ “—the Hexcore.” The look Jayce gives Viktor is equal parts alarmed, incredulous, and chastened. “I… I can’t do it. You have to.” Viktor pauses, then pleads. “Please.” The councilman protests at once. Surely there must be a reason to keep it; Viktor was still ailing! Heimerdinger’s cautious advice be damned. Viktor’s disease was advancing faster than any Piltovan medicine could correct. A biologically responsive Hexcore could be the answer—how could Viktor suggest to destroy it? But Viktor merely lets another series of ragged coughs tear through his lungs, then urges Jayce to promise to follow through. Every instinct in his body tells Jayce not to agree, but who is he to fight against a dying man’s wishes?   “We failed to do good,” Viktor murmurs as Jayce stands, placing one large hand on the ailing man’s shoulder.  “We have to make it right.” Jayce is silent for a few beats. He squeezes Viktor’s shoulder, then releases. “Have you made it right by her?” Viktor swallows. His lack of response is answer enough. “I will tell her… soon.” Looking unconvinced, but broken, Jayce sighs. He wraps his fingers around the hammer and leaves Viktor to his ruminations. —-------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Viktor putters around the apartment looking worse for wear, which is saying a lot when he’s been so gaunt since he first returned home from the hospital several months ago. He spends a few days completely asleep, to the point that you nearly call his doctor for help — but he stops you short of marching off to the hospital yourself. The turnaround in his mood is jarring; not days ago he’d been almost bouncing around despite his malaise, excited at the prospect of discovery. He’d been at the lab for long, but reasonable workdays, and had been reasonably upbeat for someone with such a nasty, persistent cough. But the past few days at home had been upsetting. Viktor lived for the lab, and hated to oversleep unless something entertaining in the bedroom had expended his energy the night before; his behavior was thus uncharacteristic and frankly more worrying than his mood had been after his fainting spell. “I’m fine,” he tells you unconvincingly, but agrees to get up for quick meals of easy-to-digest soup. After each meal, he heads back to bed and broods until fitful sleep takes him. You’ve asked what might be the matter, but the pain in Viktor’s eyes leaves you feeling raw and uncomfortable. You wish for him to talk to you about it, to let you share in his pain, but you’ve learned better from prior arguments to wait until he comes to you first. " At least, that’s what you plan for. But nothing prepared you for the full truth. ————— Viktor tosses and turns in his sleep as you wander into the bedroom, hoping that he might be awake for a small lunch. His brows furrow deep into his forehead as sweat beads on his face. He looks deathly pale, and he clutches at demons in his slumber. You want to wake him, but it might be more jarring to interrupt a nightmare than to wait for its resolution, so you reach for his pillow to try and adjust his head into a more comfortable, less tense angle. As you ease his head back into a reasonable position, something clatters to the floor from beneath his pillow. You stoop to pick it up, recognizing it as a pair of gold-rimmed glasses. Curious. One lens is cracked beyond repair; whoever lost these has a hefty re-lensing bill to pay in their future. You place the glasses on the nightstand near Viktor before heading back for the kitchen, wondering why he’d been keeping a pair of broken spectacles hidden. But you think nothing of it for now, more focused on keeping Viktor’s lunch warm for when he eventually emerges for the comfort of hot soup. ————— Days later, you walk in to replace the bedsheets while Viktor naps on the couch — it hits you then why the glasses seemed so familiar. Hadn’t Viktor’s head lab assistant, Sky, worn a pair like this? You were fairly confident that the most obvious answer to the question of why another person’s items were hidden beneath his pillow (infidelity) was, in fact, not the case (and especially so considering the glasses were broken), so you wondered what Viktor’s reasoning might be. Your mind lands on a much more logical hypothesis; an experiment must have gone awry at Viktor’s doing, and he’d meant to get her glasses repaired in apology. You smile to yourself, falling a little more for the kindness you had always loved in Viktor. As you strip the pillows and pull back the covers, you find something stranger; a baby blue notebook, dusted with some soot, tucked into Viktor’s pillowcase. A quick glance at the inner cover lets you know this is Sky’s; if it wasn’t her familiar handwriting that gave it away, then her name, signed into the cover beneath the sensible title of “Sky’s Hexcore Notes,” made this apparent. Nothing in the notebook’s pages seemed amorous in any way, and you chastised yourself for even looking for that kind of evidence. And yet this discovery made Viktor’s behavior even stranger; the glasses could have been overlooked and spilled out of a pocket as he took off his socks. The notebook was more deliberate, and certainly a strange item to keep in a bed. It wasn’t your place to return the notebook, but you did wonder if Sky might have been looking for it. You visit the lab, only for it to be locked. A small note pinned to the door only indicates that there are experiments in progress and that nobody would be allowed to enter; the note is etched in Viktor’s trademarked scrawl. A student passes by. You recognize them as one of the younger lab assistants that Sky managed for Viktor. They catch you staring, then smile and approach you. “The lab’s been closed since last week,” they explain. “Viktor stormed out really late a few days ago, looking like something exploded.” They nod at the note. “Looks like the experiments were re-run. Not even Jayce is allowed in, though; Viktor gave us explicit orders to stay away out of safety when he left that day. Honestly, I wouldn’t have known if I hadn’t been pulling an all-nighter for an exam.” A week ago…? You vaguely recall that Viktor’s behavior had completely changed around then, and your mind flashes to a blurry memory of a distressed expression and the clatter of wood and metal. Your eyes narrow. You thank the student and rush home. ——— Viktor is exactly where you left him. He slumps into the couch cushions, staring listlessly at the empty fireplace. When you close the door behind you, he doesn’t look up, doesn’t register any signs of life. His eyes don’t follow you when you walk past him towards the bedroom, and he gives no indication that he hears you. It’s not until you return from the bedroom with Sky’s notebook and glasses that Viktor seems to understand that there is movement around him. Rather, it’s the clink of metal against coffee table when you delicately place Sky’s items down that draw his attention. You slowly ease yourself into an adjacent chair as you watch Viktor’s face carefully. Something inside him seems to shrivel. You furrow your brows in concern; that’s the last thing you’d expected. The simplest explanation for having another person’s highly personal items hidden from their partner was normally cheating; you’d been bracing yourself for an answer more like that, even if you were fairly unconvinced that Viktor was capable of committing infidelity in the first place. Whatever else could have been the reason? You’d expected him to recoil, to get defensive, to immediately stammer out some tepid excuses to the presence of the two objects. But instead he recedes into himself, jaw tightening and eyes shaking. “Viktor?” Y0u call out for him tentatively, noting that his breathing has gone shallow and erratic. You don’t dare startle him now, and instead slowly shift forward to be ready to steady him if need be. His gaze on Sky’s glasses hardens. Then his amber eyes drag up to meet yours, slowly, painstakingly… guiltily. “She’s gone,” he whispers, and almost collapses forward. Luckily you’d been inching towards him for this express purpose, finally leaping out of your seat to kneel in front of him and catch him. He cries silently into the crook of your neck; the only evidence you have of his tears are the wetness in your shirt fabric and the stilted rise of his shoulders as he struggles to take breaths. Viktor coughs roughly once, ever so carefully tucking away his handkerchief with muscle memory, but continues to shiver into your embrace. You stroke his back to give him a bit of gentling, but countless absurd possibilities fly through your head as you try to understand what he means by those two words. When you give up on guessing, you lean back and search his eyes. “Vitya,” you say softly (he sags a little at the endearment). “What happened?” This isn’t the way Viktor ever imagined explaining his Hexcore experiments to you. Hell, he had been doing his best to avoid telling you anything that wasn’t completely necessary; everything should have gone smoothly, with him returning to your apartment with a new and painless body a week ago. But the truth—all of it—comes spilling out into the quiet living room air. Well, almost all of it. He recounts every bit of detail in surprisingly clinical clarity; you can only detect emotion from the slight tremor at the ends of his sentences. Viktor surprises even himself with this sudden precision, though despite the fluidity of his explanation he manages to hold back the darkest truth of all. He freely admits to you that he turned to biological rune matrix experiments because he was ‘ailing quite badly’ and seeking a cure in the form of energy transfer; he does not disclose the extent to which his health was failing. Viktor doesn’t know why he doesn’t tell you. His mouth continues divulging every other shred of detail, so why can’t he bring himself to say that he’s fucking dying with only weeks left of life? This was you he was talking to. The love of his life, the person he’d been made to wait for, the one who gave him the hope to live for himself. Perhaps it’s the shame. It was his hubris and his greed, driven by a faint thread of hope, that led to Sky’s death. She died in his attempt to live; perhaps he should never have dared to find a way to survive. He never wanted to hurt anyone. He would have endured the pain of the Hexcore experiments a thousand times over if it meant that everyone around him would be safe and well. How could he have let his desperation for happiness lead to another’s demise? How could he tell you the full truth of his sins and laden you with the knowledge that he’d killed someone just for the chance to escape his own death? But in his own convoluted logic, Viktor finds himself blind to the fact that his provided explanation might be more abhorrent than truth. You try your hardest not to recoil where your skin meets his; you’re not disgusted by him, you could never be, but you are finding it incredibly difficult to reconcile your mild-mannered lover and best friend with a person who enabled manslaughter all for a faster remedy for physical health. It didn’t sound like him at all. Even more difficult to process is his secrecy; you’d known he was sick, but not desperately so. Why had he not told you? Did he not trust you? It was jarring to hear he had turned to a procedure so risky for a non-terminal disease. Exoskeleton or augmented body parts or not, he wasn’t the type to go to those kinds of extremes (much less use contraband to achieve them). Something doesn’t add up. But as Viktor shivers in front of you, you push aside the discomfort and uncertainty boiling in your stomach and put all your energy into trying to make things better. He seems traumatized, and he needs you. Resisting the fear in your heart, you swallow down what tastes like bile and wrap Viktor into your arms even tighter. “Everything went horribly wrong,” he laments into your shoulder. “Nobody was supposed to get hurt.” “I know you,” you murmur, hoping that you sound convincingly comforting. “I know you did your best, and I know you would have saved her if you could.” He allows himself to openly cry at last, his shoulders shaking with every loud sob. You cling to each other like each other’s life rafts, bobbing along in an abyssal sea. —-------------------------------------------------------------------------------- You’re curled up next to Viktor in the dark, in the usual and familiar spot beside him in bed. He lies face-up, unblinking, unable to sleep. He dissects his conversation with Jayce over and over again, his plea to destroy the Hexcore on repeat. “Have you made it right by her?” “I will tell her… soon.” Viktor suppresses a cough within his chest, grimacing as he swallows phlegm. He glances at you, but you don’t stir; good. He must have been rather quiet, then. Looking back up at the ceiling, he sighs heavily, resigning himself to his original fate and wondering when he’d have the courage to say his final good-byes to you. Soon. —-------------------------------------------------------------------------------- My Sparrow, Today I might be given my independence as a citizen of Zaun. You will learn of this after the Council votes tonight, regardless of the way the votes go, and hopefully by then all of this—this fighting, this violence, this bloodshed between cities—will be over. If I receive my liberation as a man in the eyes of the law, it is a cause for celebration. I am tired, however, and this only brings me mild comfort. You may wonder why my response to the independence of my people is so tepid, especially knowing who I am—who we are—and where I came from. You and I… from those days running all over our childhood home, holding hands and not caring what people thought about our social divide… we’ve never cared about the glitter and glamour of Piltover. You’ve weaponized it, in fact, in a stroke of brilliance that truly does do good in this world. I am ever so proud of you and always so inspired. That’s what Jayce and I set out to do with Hextech. It was meant to improve lives, not take them or worsen them. But while we have failed in our ultimate task, tonight’s vote and Jayce’ proposal may represent a turning point in our little world. It might be the change that really does improve the lives of Zaunites forever. So. I should celebrate, right? But I can’t. I’m writing this to you because you and I… we’ve both been cowards to our feelings for so long, unable to express them in person and hiding behind penned letters to confide in the truth. I’ll be there when you read this, and I will be sitting before you nervously, but I hope that in writing I can best articulate something that is very difficult for me to say to you. My darling, I am not long for this world. I’ve known since I woke up in my hospital room after that first fainting spell. It didn’t really matter to me then; I could sense that my body was failing me and I didn’t have anything to live for beyond my work. Then you insisted on entering my world full-force, firmly entrenching yourself into my apartment and my full-time care, and we somehow, miraculously, reconciled seventeen years worth of lost opportunity. It was that night, holding your bare form in my arms, that I resolved to find a way to continue living. It seemed stupid to give up when my decades of wayward hopefulness had been rewarded. I turned to the Hexcore, and thus to Shimmer. I wanted to survive; I wanted at least seventeen more years with you, not merely seventeen weeks. The exoskeleton is not… an exoskeleton. On the night Sky passed, I was trying to replace my mortal trappings with stronger parts, hoping that perhaps my ailing lungs might be saved and thus my life. Beyond fusing musculature and bone to firmer materials, I had hoped that biosynthesis of Hexcore energy and human organs might be my salvation and science’ path forward all in one. The first experiment, with my leg, worked beautifully. I expect that the second would have been successful, but no salvation is worth the cost of a human life. As you know, the second experiment ultimately failed. The Hexcore calls to me. It wants me, and I want it, but I know it isn’t right. I’ve asked Jayce to destroy it, knowing that its accursed siren call may be the last hope I have to live. By the time you read this, it will be gone, never to be abused again. I don’t know how many days I have left, exactly. But if you’ll forgive a coward for his secrets, I’d like to step back from work and spend every last minute I have with you. I’m sorry I didn’t try to find you overseas when we were younger; perhaps if I’d been less bitter and more brave, perhaps if I’d prevented myself from using work as a coping mechanism, I’d have been smart enough to reach out sooner and let you know how much I loved you. Perhaps then we’d have had years together instead of the few months we will otherwise have. Don’t be too cross, my little Sparrow. I knew my lot when I asked you to repeat your confession to me on that fateful night. I thought it better to let you know how long I had loved you than to fade away without giving you my response. Let us instead look to the small future we have and build towards the longer destiny Zaun might be given. Together. With an eternity of love, Vitya —--------------------------------------------------------------------------------   Viktor signs his name with a flourish, then lifts the sheets of parchment to inspect his prose. Jayce paces elsewhere in the lab, but the rhythm of his footsteps provided a melodic cadence for Viktor to write to. He sighs heavily, folding the paper into thirds and tucking it away into the inner pocket of his vest. Then he stands, stretches, and walks over to his partner. “Jayce.” “Mmh?” Jayce looks somewhat startled to see Viktor so nearby; it seemed it wasn’t just Viktor who was deeply lost in thought. “Done with your letter?” Viktor nods. “I’m guessing you wrote a confession, by the look on your face.” Viktor nods again. “I’ll never understand you two; loving each other so intensely but failing to say the words that need to be heard the most. Your relationship’s spanned a lifetime, you know that?” Viktor presses his lips into a tight line and wry smile as he thinks of a response. “When you’ve spent a lifetime waiting out of fear, you’re bound to act a little unintelligently.” Jayce looks wholly unconvinced. “You’re some of the smartest people I know,” he sighs exasperatedly. But he doesn’t press further; he’s simply glad that Viktor is trying to tell you the truth at long last. He’s made the thinner man promise to give you the letter after the Council meeting; it seemed like poignant time. Coupling two large announcements may soften the blow of either. “Are you prepared?” Viktor watches Jayce continue to pace, his path pendulum-like along the floor. “I’m about to go in and tell the Piltovan Council that I’ve given Zaun over to Silco,” Jayce groans, grappling at his head in frustration. “I know it’s the right thing to do, but they’ll be hard to convince.” Viktor scoffs, a half-smile tugging at a corner of his lips. “You’re Piltover’s Golden Boy,” he smirks tiredly. “One of the Fathers of Progress. They may be uncomfortable with your decision, but between you and Mel, very few would stand in your way.” The two men lock eyes for a beat, years of understanding conveyed through a split-second. This is what they strove for: for the future, for a world where technology equalized all. It wasn’t quite the path they expected to take there, but rather than continue to make the grave mistakes they had, they knew this was their only remaining choice.   Their work had taken lives. It couldn’t continue in the way it once had. When Jayce resumes his pacing, Viktor knows that tonight will be a sort of goodbye. They’ll still be in each others’ lives, in and out, doing different kinds of science. But the past they’d had as Piltovan student and the mentor who’d succeeded against all odds was gone. The brimming confidence and hopefulness of their youth had been replaced with an exhausted resignation. Rather than work towards something new and anticipatory, they sought to minimize risk and suffering. And with Zaun liberated, Viktor and his people would no longer be seen as grateful charity cases but rather as threats to the old Piltovan ways. “We’ll always be partners, right, Viktor?” The hopefulness in Jayce’ voice is apparent. “It would be untoward to dishonor our legacy,” comes Viktor’s cryptic reply. Outside, a bell chimes. The two men share one more glance; it’s their cue to head to the council room for what is guaranteed to be an eventful session. Shoulder to shoulder, they leave the lab of their youthful optimism and step towards an uncertain future.
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simiansmoke · 8 months
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tears for the memories meme
childhood memories
( tears )  for my muse to discuss a childhood memory that makes them sad
He might as well have been still under the water with how the river rock he'd hit had knocked free the bare minimum breath he had left in him from fighting the roar of the post-rain season's river. That he didn't just pass out upon the blow, which furthered oxygen deprival past the limit needed to not just surrender limply to the water's course, spoke volumes of the Kong's lung capacity.
A capacity that under other circumstances served to annoy those around him who couldn't take such a loud and boisterous youth; but now, left shivering with fingers clenched weakly to a wet river rock that had no issues piercing fur in some places to scrape skin down to blood, the illusion of power said lungs carried now faded to wet, hacking coughs and snivel seasoned hiccups. Though the river had swallowed him and spit him back out to a harsh blow, the trembles in his arms as he clung to his safe point seemed more indicative of the act of trembling around an unspeakable feeling that simply ate away silently at one's insides until eventually, a mouthful too far left the host a shaking shell of their former self over the mere chill of river water and the shock of being swept away so suddenly from the bank.
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"D-dad..." His teeth gritting in an attempt to still his shakes, he glared ahead before squeezing his eyes shut when the splatter of water against rock kept flying back in his face. Like the swell of words from below the rafters he'd been privy to before he'd tried to escape them by blindly racing through the jungle to his fate of upturned vines and a slippery, swollen riverbank.
[From the rafters of the meeting room, DK had happily helped himself to a spot in the dark where a song bird had made a nest and where two speckled eggs lay, waiting for their parents' return. He'd been keeping an eye on them for a few days now after Dad had mistakenly believed he'd chased the youngster out of the room before a big strategy meet between King and Kong army generals.
Since then it was easy peasey to pull the same stunt every day since, swinging up to his 'crow's nest' view to sit with the bird's nest and get a gander on the proceedings below. Soldiers were cool, after all...and if he was lucky, they'd tell a really not-kid-Kong friendly story so he could immediately run it back to Funky or Candy to show how in the know he really was!
But the following meeting was anything but cool. He was already in a turbulent mood, having not seen hide or feather of any birds that could have laid the eggs before him. A small knuckle reached forward as if to barely touch a shell and see if there was any warmth to be found, but bickering voices below gave him pause.
"-that kid is always cutting in to our meeting time, Cranky! I have a wife and kid I'd like to go home to TOO you know."
"Yeah, yeah, yeah - well, I'd ask her if the feeling's mutual if I were you! Your complaining is now eating into more meeting time, you know?"
"Disgraceful...your kid is supposed to take over the kingdom and in turn our services? But with an attitude so unbefitting a king, you'd best learn to beat some sense into the runt soon. No one in this army is going to want to serve such insolence, your majesty. And I say so with your best intention in mind."
A sigh from below indicates Cranky is giving the matter thought before he commits. "My son won't always be a worthless idiot. Just like you weren't always one, I might add! With mine and the army's combined help, he'll turn out to be a powerful asset to our kingdom. Until then, we will suffer his insufferable intrusions."
"And if he doesn't, King? What then? He sings like a jester over a prince. What if he learns nothing of Kings and armies by his own volition ?"
"Simple-! Then he's NOT my son-"
From the rafters, the prince doesn't hear the follow-up of ' to inherit the throne'. Any reasonable attempts at listening now were replaced with a roar inside his head...like an overflowing river that wanted nothing more than to swallow him and sweep him far away from the meeting room. Flashing his teeth as he observed the eggs once more, he wondered if they too were not anyone's anymore...and the throb of realization in his chest prompts him to lash out - to smash his hand down and crush the eggs. They were cold.]
And now he was too, fastened to his rock and shaking around a feeling like rage, but perhaps it was something else disguised as such. His face fell once he came to and pulled his own damn self out of the river, replaced with half narrowed eyes and a stern frown worthy of Cranky's son. It would remain there for the remainder of the war against the Kremlings. As he padded wetly along the jungle path back to town, he could have sworn he saw white wolf in the distance.
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cowboytranslator · 9 months
Text
occupation: crevice-dweller
Name: Ruan Zigang
Age: 25 years
Zodiac sign: Sagittarius 
Blood type: O
I daresay that I understand more than the average person does about surviving in narrow spaces. That’s because it’s the job I do every day. Actually, it’s not that hard to do this kind of job. As long as your brain firstly agrees to abandon all its dignity, your body will naturally be alright. You can’t have the smallest iota of “self”. You must be indifferent to your outside, your inside, your personality, when they’re being brought to rock-bottom. As long as you indifferently drift with the tide, and don’t resist anything, (you should be relaxed, enduring and enduring and enduring) you’ll eventually completely forget what you were trying to restrain yourself against. As long as you maintain this for a little while, you can eventually enter that beautiful region in which you can live freely and easily. When I first started, I thought it was very difficult, but eventually I learned how to do it. There are times when I forget that I’m a person at all, and believe that I’m actually a cute amoeba.
Greatest wish: To never gain weight, or to never get confused.
Happiest thing: Dating a pretty girl.
Saddest thing: My tooth hurting. I’m afraid of dentists.
Your favourite activity: Sharing the joys and sorrows of my life and job with others.
Your pet peeve: When my date is late.
A memory you’re proud of: When I joined the student movement, and successfully fought against the government with my classmates.
A memory that frustrates you: I’ve got nothing special to say about that.
Notes: I often forget who I am, and why I’m alive. (It’s probably an occupational disease!) I feel pessimistic about life, and have already forgotten the dreams of my youth and the wishes I had when I reached adulthood. When you live between the cracks for a long time, your body and mind will quickly become distorted.
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translator's notes:
augh ough ugh ouch. this was my first formal translation so the quality is so bad but it was also the first page that truly captivated me so i have to put it on here.
no idea what this is a metaphor of. despise how my translation made him sound a little stupid-- i really lost a lot of their nuance. this was actually horrifying to read. they have this very matter-of-fact, lighthearted tone while talking about something that's very clearly unmentionable and incredibly taxing on them, and it really freaked me out, to be honest. and then 2 sentences later they're talking about their fear of dentists. this book really is crazy.
the final sentence of the "notes" section is my favourite on this entire page. it really made me shake and shiver.
oh my god i have to do actual translators notes. anyway. the word for "enduring" and "restraining yourself" is actually the same word, 忍耐, but i feel it flows better if i use a different one.
变形虫 means amoeba, which i think is a unicellular organism. the last part sounds really random, and it is, but it's such a lovely detail. unicellular. they're losing their sense of their own body. i really love this book.
also something i just realised: i don't know zigang's gender! in future translations, i usually just go by the picture or the description, but they're kind of gender-neutral and first person makes these things confusing. i used to think of them as a "he". now, i'm not so sure.
lastly: their name, 自刚, is kind of amazing. 刚 can be used as an adjective for something tough, strong, unyielding, while 自 refers to oneself. it's truly that exact combo of... lighthearted nature with an iron will beneath. i really like this dude.
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youryanderedaddy · 3 years
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Best Friends Forever
 Summary: Your best friend finally has you back after all these years, tied up on his bed and ready to learn your lesson.
Tw: nsfw, non-con, slight mention of blood, threats, choking, slight degradation, dirty talk, cursing, infantilization, possessive behavior, patronizing behavior, overuse of petnames, slight dom vibezz 
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You knew your boyfriend was a lost cause, an addict so gone he would have done anything for a fix, but you never expected him to stoop so fucking low. 
 You had woken up in a suspiciously familiar place, laying on sheets oh so soft, puffy and white you simply couldn’t mistake the bed you were on. The walls were painted in black and blue, a combination so deeply engraved in your mind you couldn’t shake off the feeling you weren’t trully conscious, but dreaming of a happy yet distant memory of the past. It took you less than a second to realize you were in his room - the one where you had spent so many joyfull sleepless nights back in your youth. The relief was short - lived, though, because the moment you tried to move around, you became aware of the tight rope keeping your sore limbs tied to the wooden bed frame. After a while of twisting and thrashing around while screaming at the top of your lungs for help you finally heard the door open. You hoped you would at last be able to go home now, still desperate to believe this was merely a prank, a way for your junkie of a boyfriend to scare you into giving him money.
 “There is no use trying to escape the bonds, my little love.” His voice emited through the small room, low, smooth as butter and softer than ever. You tried to lift your head and catch a glipse of the person talking, just to make sure you weren’t imagining things or going insane. And there he was in all his glory, the boy, no, the man you knew well looking so different from how you remembered him, but still it felt impossible not to see the many similarities - from the unruly dark curls to the warm gray eyes that used to be your only guide during times of misery and pain. This was none other than your childhood best friend and you had absolutely no idea why you were tied to his bed. “Oliver, why on earth am I here?” You asked as soon as the initial shock had worn off, completely forgetting to address the weird petname the student had called you.
 He smirked slightly before crossing the distance keeping him away from you, and carefully sat down by your left side. He reached out to stroke your cheek in an affectionate way, his fingers lingering for a moment too long for it to be considered a mere platonic gesture. You tried to turn your head away from the warm touch since it made you feel uncomfortable and left you with so many new questions. “I missed you so much, precious.” Oliver took a deep breath and smiled at you, gently moving your jawline so you had no choice but to face him once again. “I was so happy when that disgusting piece of shit you call a boyfriend offered you to me.” The man bent to your shoulder-level and whispered in your ear, his tone so full of sick satisfaction you could swear there was honey dripping from his mouth. “I paid a lot of money to have you back, sweetheart.” He licked his lips in an obscene, suggestive way and you had to supress the sudden urge to vomit as you finally remembered exaclty why you had stopped contacting your best friend once you had started college. The boy used to be clingy, obsessive even, but you could have never guessed it was that bad.
 “Oliver, please untie me, you are scaring me.” You pleaded in a tiny voice, hoping to summon what was left of the goodness he had tucked away deep in his heart. In response the male only chuckled and shook his head as he placed a small kiss against your neck, causing you to shiver in discomfort and disgust while you were mentally debating whether you wanted to kill him or your ex boyfriend first. Soon your spiteful thoughts were replaced by panic when your captor brought his hand to your t-shirt and started unclasping the small buttons one by one. You couldn’t help but turn red from embarassment the moment you felt your nipples harden under his palm and you became painfully aware you weren’t wearing a bra underneath. Your former friend had your tender breasts exposed to the cold air in a matter of seconds, his terrible fingers already pinching and pulling at the erect tips. “You have such pretty tits, darling.” He said huskily while squeezing your boobs, licking and biting the stretched skin. You hissed in pain and squirmed in a desperate attempt to move away but the rope was holding you in place, tightening around your sore injured wrists even more. 
 “I have wanted you for so long, angel.” The student admitted quietly, his stormy eyes fixed on yours, his stare so intense it could burn a hole through you. “Tonight I will make you mine.” Oliver declared with a clear sense of confidence and claimed your lips in a quick rough manner, muffling your pitiful whimpers like a man starved and hungry for flesh. The forced kiss and his deranged words made your stomach turn but something in his longing gaze told you there was a lot more in store. The guess, much to your horror, was soon confirmed when the dark - haired male reached down between your parted legs and easily slipped your panties down to your ankles. With your last bit of protection gone you felt awfully vulnerable, literally naked in front of the beast too keen on the past to see how much he was hurting you right now, in the present. You wanted to scream the second his fat grabby fingers pried your folds open, but choking on your desperate sobs proved easier at that moment.
 “Aww, don’t cry, angel.” Oliver growled playfully and slid his index into your tight entrance, quickly adding a second one before you had the time to adjust properly. “I have to prepare you, baby, otherwise my cock may just tear you apart.” He remarked in low sickening voice, the excuse too crude and vulgar to be an act of caring. You whined as your walls clenched down tight now that there were three fingers stretching your hole, and you berely managed to utter “too full” before your friend pulled you for a deep kiss again, his tongue devouring your mouth, leaving you breathless and queit while sucking in the sweet pained moans. “You can take it, babygirl.” The man groaned against your swollen red lips and grabbed your hips in a strong hold - you were sure there would be purple bruises there tomorrow.
  Eventually, after half an hour of pushing his fingers in and out of your channel, lapping at your neck and leaving wet love marks all over your collarbone, the student was satisfied with his work. He had turned you into a whimpering mess and was ready to thoroughly enjoy the fruits of his labor, whether you liked it or not. “I am going to put it in now, precious.” Oliver pecked you on the cheek just to lick the salty trace of tears off your puffy skin. “I will force my whole length in your perfect little pussy.” Your captor bit your sensitive earlobe and you broke down in tears like a kid, the threat ringing in your ears like the gospel. “This might hurt a bit so I advise you to stay still and relax, baby.” The way the man continued casually, almost cheerfully, as if he wasn’t about to brutally rape you, made your skin crawl, but there was nothing you could do. You were all tied up, powerless to stop him. Suddenly, without any warning, his hard thick member entered you, piercing pain spreading through your whole body. The student panted in pleasure as soon as he thrust his manhood into your heat, the way it sucked him in leaving him high and blissful. You let a few miserable whimpers, the ache too much to bear, his moves too harsh, sudden and deep. 
  “Don’t give me such a-agh tormented expression, my love.” Oliver quickly shushed you by putting his hand over your mouth and pressing down to prevent any noise that might have escaped. His gaze was lustful, insane, but also loving in a twisted, perverse way. “Fuck, I love you so much.” He muttered, his voice gentle for a split second before going back to being taunting and mocking. “I used to be so angry each and every time you dated another guy, another asshole who was only after your body.” The man was rambling now, his face turning red at his own vicious thoughts, his growing anger reflecting in his cloudy pupils and his painful thrusts. “You always chose them over me like a stupid little bitch ...” He whispered dangerously and lifted your body towards his own so you could take his hits even deeper, so deep that you could feel the tip of his member kissing your cervix. “Well, now you don’t have a choice, angel. I have claimed you and I will keep you here forever.” You were crying out in agony, your pussy clamping down around the enormous length slapping again and again against your core. It burned so bad you wished you could dissapear somewhere far away just so you could have a moment of relief. “Oh, sweetheart, I know it hurts, but it’s almost over, you can take it for me, right?” The male cooed at you, switching back to that disgusting, infantilizing baby voice you had already grown to despise. When you failed to respond he gripped your throat, squeezing so tightly blood rushed to your cheeks and you inhaled sharply though your mouth only to feel the suffocation cut your breath short. “Answer me.” He barked through gritted teeth and you nodded frantically, desperate to gasp for air and cling onto dear life. 
 “Good girl.” Your former friend purred, pleased with your obedience, and let go of your neck, grabbing your hips instead. You coughed and drooled pathetically until you managed to resume your breathing, but the man, still buried deep inside you, seemed too caught up in chasing his own pleasure to notice how badly he had hurt you. Fortunately for you Oliver was really close, that much was obvious by his furious shoves at your abused cervix and his low growls each time he lowered his head to kiss you. Soon he came with a loud moan, painting your walls white, your ruined hole dripping with his seed and your blood. 
 Your captor seemed satisfied afterwards, peaceful in a way - there was a small smile adorining his cold lips as he wiped the tears off your face and squished your bruised body against his strong frame in a tight hug. You bit your tongue to stop the tears from overflowing once again, but to no avail. He let you sob in his arms until there wasn’t liquid left in your red, puffy eyes. 
 “You did very well, my love. I am really proud of you.” Oliver kissed your temple gently, resisting the temptation to graze you all over again with his lips, tongue and fingers. “I will help you clean up, then I will fix you some nice dinner.” He murmured in your ear, tickling the heirs on the back of your neck with his warm breath. “Doesn’t this sound good, baby?”
 You closed your eyes and nodded slowly.
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princesssarisa · 10 months
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Hey your a fan of the Lets Pretend radio series.Well I am going to be doing a fairy tale adaptation month so I wanna ask for recconmendations
Well, none of the episodes are very long, so I recommend listening to several of them.
If you want to listen to authentic episodes of the radio series, don't listen to the versions with the fancy album cover art. Those are '70s record album remakes: they use the original radio scripts, but they're not performed by the original cast.
As for the authentic episodes, these are some good ones from the late '40s/early '50s "Uncle Bill Adams" era:
Jack and the Beanstalk (the episode I'd probably choose to introduce someone to the show)
The Brave Little Tailor
Cinderella
The Youth Who Learned to Shiver and Shake
Rapunzel
Hansel and Gretel
Faithful John
The Enchanted Frog
And here are some good ones from the early '40s, when Hugh Conover was the host and Cream of Wheat wasn't yet the sponsor:
The Elves and the Shoemaker
Why the Sea is Salty
The Little Mermaid
Gigi and the Magic Ring
The Water of Life
Princess Moonbeam (the Japanese story The Tale of the Bamboo Cutter, but reset in China because this was during WWII)
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beyondspaceandstars · 3 years
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hello writer!! i was wondering if you could do a fluff arranged marriage loki oneshot with the prompt “can we makeout now?”
thanks for considering!
Dating and Marriage
Relationship: Loki x Reader
Warnings: N/A, just fluff!
Word Count: 1.9k
A/N: alright i hope this is okay and ended up well i love the arrange marriage AU and i thought i was gonna be better at putting this together but maybe its clunky or something idk i still like it so i hope you do as well!
Masterlist
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
It had taken you a while to get somewhere in your relationship with Loki.
When the two of you were informed you had already been promised to one another before either of your births, you weren’t too shocked. As both of you came from royal standings, arranged marriages were far too common for a variety of reasons. In your case, it was to cement a peace treaty.
Sure, at first, you and Loki were very annoyed with the decision, especially since neither of you was ever even given the chance to be in on the conversation but that annoyance wasn’t allowed for very long. You two were adults now and had to take on your royal responsibilities as such. That responsibility included following through on the outlined marriage.
Loki didn’t seem to harbor any malice towards you and you never held anything against him. But, still, it wasn’t like you two were in love. You were tolerating one another.
And for a while, that toleration was enough. As a couple, you were quite poised in public. Sometimes you thought maybe it was hard for others to believe it was an arranged marriage based on how much you seemed to accept each other’s company. It was okay at times, you felt like you had a friend. Being a royal in a whole new palace could be lonely. Loki at least would spare you some time to sit and chat.
But this unusual friendship you two had started after the wedding was growing into something else for you day by day. And as much as he probably wanted to deny it, you could see something shift within Loki. He’d look at you differently. Reach for your hand when out of the public eye. Even began inviting you to spend his leisure time with him.
There was no avoiding the fact you two were headed on a different course than originally planned in this arrangement and despite its prevalence, you two didn’t speak about it. But you were growing greatly tired of ignoring it.
"We should go on a date," you suddenly said one afternoon. You and Loki were sitting in the library. He was in his favorite chair, consumed with some fairytale while you were seated on the couch across from him, in the process of knitting…something. You didn’t know what — you had only taken up knitting because you had heard other princesses did it. Making scarves had become all the rage.
You could feel Loki eyeing you suspiciously as you tried working on another stitch.
Eventually, he placed his book to the side and spoke. "A date?" Loki echoed.
You shrugged, not taking your eyes off the yarn. "Yeah, a date. You know, just the two of us. We could go out or — or maybe make some dinner here. I’ve been having the kitchen servants teach me about cooking."
"I know what a date is," he sighed. "What I meant is, why should we go on a date? We’re already married."
You felt a bit defeated with that response. You set your yarn on your lap and looked at your husband. He was watching you quite intensely, waiting for your answer. You shivered under the icy stare.
"Y-You don’t want to—"
Loki cut you off abruptly. "I didn’t say that." He glanced down then back at you. "It’s just that… Dates are for wooing, yes? Why would I need that when I can already tell you’re taken with me."
Your heart dropped. You blinked at him, stunned. You hadn’t expected him to just…admit he knew what was working up in your mind. There was some pride in his eyes at your reaction but behind it, you could make out a hint of fascination.
You tried shaking off your pounding heart. You promptly picked back up the yarn, continuing your hopeless scarf, as you responded, "Have you never considered that maybe your wife still wants to be wooed despite the status of her interest."
"So you admit," he chuckled, "you have fallen for me."
You scoffed, "Don’t act all high and mighty. I’m well aware of how you look at me."
You heard Loki lean back in the chair as the leather of it creaked. You could feel his eyes roaming over you but you didn’t know in what capacity. Whatever was in his eyes now you were ignoring as you frantically tried to focus on knitting and not your love confession.
"Okay," he eventually said. "We’ll have a date."
It was impossible for you to hold back the smile forming on your lips.
***
After minimal deliberation, Loki agreed to let you cook for him. You had heard that the Midgardians used food as signs of love and were fascinated with trying to learn some dishes. You studied with the servants for days trying to perfect a meal. They were always a little uncertain about letting a princess in where servant frequented but once you explained this time you were cooking to please your husband, they giggled like schoolgirls, excited to help.
Once you felt prepared enough, you informed your husband of when you wanted the date. You may have had to do some rework of both your royal schedules but it was fine. Meetings are forever, love can be fleeting.
You were preparing the food when Loki hesitantly entered the kitchen. You had explained that you two would be eating at the kitchen table. It was just a little table where servants usually sat to eat meals or relax in between shifts.
Loki had originally protested this saying he was not of such low status. You assured him that there was no intimacy to be found at the grand dining hall. It was far too big and annoying for two people. He didn’t argue further, just mumbling that he’d be there at the time requested.
And, luckily, he followed through.
"Hi, honey," you smiled, watching the stew simmer above the flame.
Loki took his seat gently as if he was going to catch something from the table. "This is really what you wanted to do for our date?"
You nodded. "I’ve had so much fun learning this meal and doesn’t it smell great? I think it’s going to be nice. I ever have bread baking." You motioned towards the stone oven. Loki followed your gaze but didn’t look impressed yet.
"We could’ve very easily had someone make this for us," Loki pointed out. "We have that luxury, darling."
You rolled your eyes, turning back to your bubbling stew. You could feel your anger bubbling in the same fashion.
"That’s not the point, Loki," you said, the tone in the kitchen shifting as you spoke his name. You rarely ever did. He perked up as you continued, "The point is that I, your wife, like you and would like to express my adornment through a freshly cooked meal."
Loki fell silent with that, something that was so rare for him. You didn’t push any further, though, and instead killed the fire under the stew and presented your bread from the oven. You divided it out into individual portions then placed each on the table. Still with an annoyed, sour look, you sat across from your husband. He was watching the stew, you were watching him.
"It—It looks delicious," he said
"Thank you," you mumbled. You two dug in then, this date now turning out a bit more awkward than you had planned. Neither of you spoke for a while, instead filling the kitchen with the slurping of soup and chewing of bread.
Loki soon began looking between you and the food like he was working up the courage to say something which was absolutely ridiculous to you. Your husband was one of the most outspoken people in the realm.
Eventually, you just decided to look up at him, your eyes begging for him to say whatever he wanted to say.
"This meal is lovely," Loki eventually said. "Th-Thank you for…doing all this."
You smiled, a faint blush creeping up on your cheeks. "You’re welcome."
Loki finished his stew then asked, "What else should we do on this date?"
Now you were really blushing. While taking your little cooking classes, you asked the servants what else goes on on dates. They seemed like lovely girls and you were curious. You had heard stories before of dancing and parties but you wanted something more intimate and you had never actually been on much of a date before. You spent time with boys in your youth and the night before your wedding you and Loki had talked for a little bit but nothing was ever of such fashion.
One servant had informed you, quite shyly, that she and her boyfriend always finished their dates by making out. You had gasped, amazed at her bluntness but then remembered these were servant girls. They lived far less controlled lives than you.
You were partially envious but then you realized, technically, you had a husband. A husband who was capable of making out with you even if such actions and beyond were typically reserved for very a calculated time — heir bearing, such intimacy only happened during the time when potential conception was at its peak.
"Well," you said, running your spoon through your bowl of stew, "one of the servants that helped me said her and her boyfriend end their dates with make-outs."
"Making out?" Loki repeated, brows raised in surprise. "But it’s not—"
"I know."
He looked away. You could practically see the gears turning in his brain. "You want to make out with me for fun."
You giggled at his shock. "Is that so unbelievable? I thought we already established I am into my husband."
"Yes, but you, well, neither of us, have never been so bold before."
"But it’s not such a bad thing," you shrugged, "to be so bold."
Loki hummed in agreement as he eyed you. There was something in his expression you couldn’t quite put your finger on but you definitely knew something between you two had shifted. It had already been shifting, sure, but your newly expressed desires opened the dam walls.
"Alright, dear, I think I can indulge you."
You smiled at his excitement which he was certainly trying to hide. But you maybe wanted to take a moment to maybe mess with him a bit. "Hmm," you glanced around at the dirty pots and pans, "after we clean up."
Loki’s jaw dropped. "What?"
"We can get on with our date once we clean up."
"You’re kidding me, right?" He pointedly asked. You shook your head. Loki huffed, "When did my wife become such a tease?"
You stood up, collecting your bowls and plates, bringing them to the counter. "I’ve always been like this, honey," you said. "Maybe you just have to get to know me a little bit more."
Loki began stalking towards you as you pretended to be fooling with the dirty dishes. "Well, darling," he said as his hands came upon your hips, "there’s something you must know about me and it’s that I don’t like to be kept waiting."
"I can maybe leave all this for later if you ask nicely."
He scoffed. "Are you asking me to beg?"
You shook your head. "I’m just asking you to ask nicely."
"Fine," he sighed. "Please, can we make out now?"
You sighed, leaning into his hard body. His arms moved to wrap around your waist now. "Yes, your majesty."
Loki chuckled lowly, dangerously, in your ear. "Thank you, princess."
He leaned his head around and within seconds, your lips were captured with his, getting more and more lost in one another as you two become a miss of kisses and touches.
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rakshadow · 2 years
Text
WIP Wednesday
Thank you for the tag @noire-pandora!
Fenris/Zevran 
For a multi-chapter Ash Hawke/Fenris/Zevran fic I am writing. 
NSFW and CW for non-explicit reference to past abuse. 
Fenris knows his touch is far from unwelcome. Zevran has told him many times and in many ways how much he wants him; how much he wants this. But that is not why Fenris pauses now. Regardless of all they’ve said before, Fenris still wishes to hear aloud the answer to this question.
“How would you like me to fuck you, Zev?” 
 He can tell that his questioning is not unwelcome either, by the way his lover’s body arches back against his, and the groan trailing to a breathless laugh leaving Zevran’s lips. 
With sword-worn fingers, Fenris brushes strands of pale golden hair aside so that he can run his tongue up to the pointed tip of Zevran’s ear. Another laugh, followed by a strong hand that reaches back to pull Fenris into another clumsy, open-mouthed kiss. 
Awkward at this angle, Fenris strains to taste wet heat and the hint of sweetness on Zevran’s tongue, of the sugared almonds they shared with Ash after dinner. That taste still lingers after their kiss breaks, a trail of sticky wetness on his lips. 
“Hmm, however you most desire, mi caro,” Zevran purrs with a chuckle under his breath. Fenris is focusing on the words and not the way his cock throbs in the barest space between their bodies. Almost – almost - caught up in heat and scent and sensation, he closes his eyes as Zevran continues. 
“Let me see, would you like to take me slow, and to torture me toward ecstasy? Or you would rather wish to see how quickly you can make me meet my end, hmm? Perhaps you have in mind some other plan for us tonight, no?” 
Fenris growls between clenched teeth and bends down to press his forehead between muscled shoulder blades. They have talked about this. From the start, Zevran was always careful to ask what Fenris preferred. What touch was welcome, and what wasn’t. What left him shivering with pleasure or shaking with the reminders of memories better left unvisited. 
But Fenris is not a glass to break.
Though he still bears the scars, he is more than an assortment of angry pained shards. Ash saw him break, once, that first night in her bed. And in the years since, Ash has learned too his strength. What it took for Fenris to find all those lost, scattered pieces and make himself whole again.
Zevran did not know him then, but still. He does know Fenris. And he should know better.
But perhaps…this is less about Fenris, and more about Zevran. A man so used to bending himself to the desire of others, learning to desire for himself what others wanted of him. A trait he learned so that he would never have to break.
Fenris trails his palm down Zevran’s side and closes his eyes as he traces patterned skin. Marked too, like him, though Zev’s skin is etched with ink instead of lyrium scars. A Crow is but a slave by another name after all. And Fenris sees flashes of memories, possibilities like shards of glass reflected back at him when Zevran regales him with tales of his own troubled youth.
Where Fenris’ past made him sharp, covered him in armour that’s all rough edges and spines, Zevran learned to be an easy lover. To add honey to his touch and to his words.
Fenris does not wish for honey now.
“No. I asked, how would you like me to fuck you, Zevran.” And his words come out sharper than he intended.
Zev shivers and arches closer, and Fenris knows he would melt his body into him if he could. Mold himself to fit Fenris’ shape. Smooth over all their sharp edges combined, acquiesce to Fenris’ desires.
Fenris leans away from his touch and lays flat on his back. If this is to become a game, if this is what it takes, he will gladly play along.
Fenris is after all a patient man.
I wasn’t sure of the people who haven’t read this already who would up up for being tagged in NSFW so tagging anyone who wants to take part!!
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neoaevis · 3 years
Text
How Much I Love You/Hate you
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How Much I Love You/Hate you
Word Count: 2654
Warnings:Smut(Use of the word slut, Boss kink, Over Stimulation, Male and Female receiving, Dom Mark, Pregnant Sex, Office Sex, Unprotected Sex(Don’t forget to wrap it), Cheating,Mentions of the word gold digger , Angst,Violence;punching and mentions of hurtful words(that’s it ig pm me for more)
!! NOT PROOF READ!!
A/N: Hello my dear bbys I finished the second chapter and I really hope y’all like it and just like I said it will be indiv story first and in around the third chapter we will see some interactions between our main characters but well lol depends in what I write, I really hope you enjoyed this as much as I did lol and please don’t hate me if you don’t also don’t copy any of my works,you may also chat me for suggestions or give me some asks of atw with things you are curious  about and btw I will open the taglist so send me a message if you wish to be tagged enjoy💋
Chapter II
Day Before Heading To Korea
“That was amazing but can be better” Mark says as he stands up away from the girl that was shaking from the sex they just had. Mark was in a meeting that was honestly really boring when one of the intern that he has  been flirting around with started palming him under the table that makes his eyes grow wide and his dick erect, originally he wanted to keep his dick inside his pants but she palmed her faster which made him hornier, so in the middle of the meeting he stood up and made everyone confused from his actions and people asking in small murmurs if something was wrong “Let’s continue this later, lunch break” he said with a loud enough voice.
He walked to the door signaling the girl to follow him into his office once she was inside he locks the door shut pressing the girl’s back to the door “What a fucking slut you are” he said with absolute dominance that makes the girl shiver ” I w-want you sir” she said as he tries to grab Mark’s face to kiss him in which Mark refused “You are not allowed to touch me” he removes his tie grabbing the girl’s hand and tying it hard enough that it will surely bruise, due to Mark’s action she feels her clit’s dripping wetness, Mark started by removing her blouse and tossing it just wherever, seeing the lace underwear she wore his eyes grew full with lust, he went to her neck hungrily leaving small marks as he unclasp her bra, he removes her skirt now carrying her towards the sofa near his  table, he opens her legs harshly, rubbing her clit he said “Your this wet, I’ve barely done anything” he grinned, the girl was unable to open her legs from too much pleasure in which Mark reacted to by opening it wider “I’m going to punish you and make sure you will regret what you did” he exclaimed while ripping the girl’s panty, he sucked her clit harshly tightly grabbing her thighs, he then moves his tongue down her entrance which makes the girl release a loud moan, he stops and grabs her neck pulling it towards his face “You’re too loud do you want everyone in the office to know how dirty you are” his statement makes the girl’s voice hitch and even before she can give a reply he gets back to pushing his tongue in her entrance while rubbing her clit with his thumb, the pressure make the girl see stars all over ”I-I I’m cumming sir” she stated stuttering too much, Mark stops the girl felt the emptiness and she whined “You don’t get to cum yet slut” he said, he pulls her hair making her kneel he unbuttons his shirt and unbuckles his belt pushing down his pants with his boxer “Open your mouth” he orders as he pushed her towards his dick deep down enough for her to gag , he went on and on that the girl is now crying from how it’s too much but not wanting to stop as pleasure spreads all over her as Mark felt he was close the sloppier he got in pushing her, so she took the initiative to suck him on her own and not long after he came in her throat, saltiness filling her palate.
He pulls her bending her over his desk, he thrust inside her slowly before he slams harder and deep “S-sir you feel so good” his ego got boosted with her compliment thrusting harshly to make sure she would have a hard time walking and for her to learn her lesson, he grabs both of her boobs pushing her towards him deepening every thrust and soon after the girl clenched around Mark “You’re cumming huh?” “Y-yes” she said and Mark slaps her but really hard “You need to call me sir for you to cum” he said demanding her to follow “Y-ye yes sir please make this slut cum” soon after she cums and after a few more thrusts Mark follows, he gave her three more sharp thrusts befor pulling out.
“That was amazing but can be better” Mark says as he stands up away from the girl that fell down shaking from sex, “Your on the pill right” he inquired remembering he came inside her.
“Oh shit, I-I’m not on the pill sir” she said while she tries to stand up but fail, Mark then removed his tie from the girl and began collecting his clothes putting them back on one by one.
“I will tell my secretary to buy you some plan B make sure to take it” he said as he pulls his tie up signaling he will be leaving already.
“What if I don’ take it” she asked teasingly but Mark did not take it well slamming his palms towards the desk she is leaning to “Why did you fuck me is to get yourself pregnant for money?” he exclaimed, fear has spread across the girl’s face making her feel small.
Mark grabs his check in his desk and wrote 1 million dollars worth of money “Here’s the money so make sure to take it” he throws it towards her face.
“Are you just going to leave me, how about me right now or my panty at least” the girl said feeling pathetic and which Mark replied with a scoff giving her another check worth another million.
“I believe the money is enough now” he said walking away now and stopping before opening the door to say “I don’t care about you, what we did was just sex and nothing more so get out of here as fast as you can” and he left as anger spread all over him.
Flashback to College
Truth be told Mark is actually sensitive about pregnancy topics, there was this girl that he loved so deeply when he was just eighteen years old her name was Mina, he spent his youth loving and protecting her, she was poor unlike Mark which his parent’s disliked and protested that she was only a gold digger that is after his money, Mark even went through extreme lengths for her, from buying her expensive gifts to giving every part of him, even arguing with his parents every day and when she got pregnant when they were twenty he was extremely happy, he thought his life was complete with her not until one day when he went to her apartment he heard moans from her room “God, Mark doesn’t even know what we are doing, fucking around like this” said Mina “He is like a puppy following you around” exclaimed the man “Baby if not for his money I won’t be even fucking him, nor get pregnant plus you’re way better in bed” she said moaning, it made Mark really angry and pained, he slams the door open to which shocked the both of them.
“What the fuck did you just say y-you” he said as his voice breaks from too much pain that the love of his life gave him “Only loved me for money” Mina get’s herself off from the man as she tries to get close to Mark “ Mark no you, you heard wrong, I love you not because of your money” he pushed Mina away as he made eye contact with the guy making him punch him hard releasing all the anger “ I did not hear wrong, how dare you cheat on me” he said eyeing Mina, she begged Mark all over and over  and the man she was having sex with said “Just leave that good for nothing asshole Mina” his words made every vein from Mark pop that’s why he punches the guy again and again and again in which the guy returned but Mark was overpowering as he threw more punches, Mina tried to stop them both but she was too weak to stop them soon after he gave the final punch that made the guy fall “I am not good for nothing, in fact I have money which both of you don’t have” he said in the most angry tone he has ever been, Mina and the guy was left shocked with his words they felt very belittle by it “And for you Mina, I loved you and all along my parents were right you are nothing but a gold digger” it made Mina cry even harder, regret filling her all over as she tried to reach Mark only to be pushed away hard enough that her belly hit the side of the bed, soon after that blood filled the room Mark was alarmed remembering his baby so he gave the ambulance a call. When they arrived in the hospital Mina was immediately checked and he found out his baby died his blood and flesh died, regret, blame and all different emotions filled him mostly blaming Mina if she did not cheat on him this will not happen. He left her that day returning to his parents because of how sorry he feels he defended her yet they were right all along, after that Mark has changed he no longer is the bubbly and friendly Mark he became a bad boy fucking every single girl not caring about them at all or would have a girlfriend but would cheat on them on multiple occasions, no relationship after Mina lasted as he thought all people care about is money not how he feels.
Day Before Heading To Korea
Walking he saw his secretary slash friend Taeil he immediately orders him to buy the plan B for the girl he just banged or just anything to prevent her from getting pregnant “Sir why do you fuck girls when you don’t want them to get pregnant” his secretary exclaimed “Come on Taeil don’t play innocent who knows you might’ve banged as much as I did or even more” he said teasing him to which Taeil returned with a huge shake of his head “Nope,nope I’m not like you and never will, well infact I am getting married soon” Mark was shocked not really believing Taeil so he slapped his arm “Your jokes are getting better” he laughed while Taeil had a straight face “Im not kidding my girlfriend really said yes and we are getting married” Mark stopped laughing with a face of disbelief that made Taeil chuckle now “Your gonna settle with someone now?” he questions “Hahaha Mark yes I am” he pats Mark’s shoulder “Wow, why is everyone around me getting married, you should know that the single life is way better” he said while clicking his toungue “Being single is indeed better, but when you love someone you would prefer to be with them every minute and every second and then it would be better for you because you love each other” he said lovingly making Mark laugh “You are madly in love hyung” he laughs “I bet when you meet your match you will also be madly in love with her” Mark shook his head showing a big X sign with his arms “Loving someone crazily will only kill you ,plus I know for sure all they want from me is my money” he said protesting and Taeil gave him a comforting smile before he turns his back to return to work.
Mark headed to the rooftop to get some fresh air while doing so he reminisce his past about Mina and Taeil’s words about him finding true love, discovering that there is indeed a part of him that wants to meet someone that loves him for him and not his money but before he could think more he shrugs it off and in que his phone rings and the caller was his Dad, he answers the phone.
Dad : “Son how have you been there in Canada?” his father questions with a giddy tone
Mark: “Here alive and well” he answers bluntly
Dad: “That’s good, how about the company is it doing well?” he questions further
Mark: “Of course it’s doing exceptionally well, is that all you have to ask” he ask as he sense there is something more with his phone call
Dad: ” Well uhm son I need you to come to Korea asap” he said as he cleared his throat
Mark: “How about our company here, it needs me dad” he said, but actually deep down he is not ready to come back to Korea because coming back means revisiting his past.
Dad: “I already fixed that, your brother is coming to Canada to manage the company”
Mark: “But Dad I’m not really sure I actually don’t want to go back”
Dad: “Look Mark, honestly I wanted to ask you kindly first to hear your first reaction but I just want to inform you that even if you say no, I want you to come home here as soon as you can”
Mark: “Dad but I- I ok fine yes I will come go to Korea as soon as I can but do I just leave?”
Dad: “Yes Mark and starting the day you come back here you will manage the company in Korea plus you need to attend a charity ball this week Saturday”
Mark: “ Ok Dad I get it” he said with a defeated tone
And his Dad hangs up, he doesn’t really want to go and feels very hesitant having an inner conflict with himself, his phone rang again and the caller this time is Taeil telling him to get back to the meeting as lunch break was already over, he endured several more meetings after another until it was finally over to signify his day will finally end. He went back to his office massaging the temples of his forehead as he sat down to think about the many things that bothers him, he then pages for Taeil through his phone, Taeil rushed to see him asking what are his orders for him, Mark stood up and told Taeil “Book me a flight to Korea tomorrow” Taeil took note of it as schok embodied him “Tomorrow sir? And Korea?” he knows that Mark hates Korea for the reason behind it being Mina but he repeated “Yes tomorrow to Korea also you are coming with me” he said as he grabs his things preparing to leave work “B-but sir why shall I come with you and how about my wedding?” he inquires worriedly “It’s part of your job as my secretary and as for you wedding if your soon to be wife loves you so much she can wait oh and make sure it’s a one way ticket” Taeil was very schoked with Mark’s action but before he can speak up more Mark was waves him goodbye making his exit.
The next day Mark woke up with a not so good mood, he made his secretary Taeil pack for him and for which Taeil cursed him for, after packing they head in to his car to drive to the airport Mark tried to get some sleep but he can’t seem to get some with all the flashback memories filling him, they arrived in the airport, checked in and headed to the first class seats of the plane, the whole plane ride was spent with drinking, sleeping and eating for he past 15hrs and after all that has passed he finally hears the flight attendant proclaim” Flight #127 to Seoul South Korea has now landed” and there he was in the land he long abandoned, the land filled with bright yet devastating memories, he shut his eyes preparing himself, as he finally left the plane he feels the jet lag kicking and decided to go to his parents house, just as he thought everyone was asleep due to the very dim lighting he was surprised by his parents with a huge “WELCOME HOME” banner, and he thought to himself “This is it Mark you are really here”.
“All Rights Reserved”  © sibehpoor  2021
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Thank You For Your Service IV (M)
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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“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.
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“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.
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“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.
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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.
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“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.
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“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!”
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buck-nialled · 3 years
Text
Strikeout - B. Barnes Imagine
NOTE: this takes place in TFATWS period
TAGLIST: @poetic-heart​ @hallecarey1​ @moonlightbaby10​ @5-seconds-of-mendes​ @bbl32​ @wobblymug​
SUMMARY: it’s bucky’s first time bowling and he’s doing reasonably well. it’s not your first time bowling, but you can’t seem to score anything but gutter balls. when he comes to your rescue, will both of you strikeout?
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Bucky tilted his head, eyeing Sam’s assertive footing down the wooden panels of the floor and studying the dip of his body as the man released the heavy, marbled ball. Bucky’s eyes maintained their stare on the ball as it glided smoothly down the lane, straight into the ten, uniform pins, ultimately knocking all but one over. Sam turned around to face Bucky, who sat with Sarah and her children at the table and gave each of them a confident smirk. Cass and AJ clapped, with nothing but awe overcoming their youthful faces.
“That’s how it’s done,” Sam says, now approaching the table for a sip of his drink.
“Now see if you can knock down that last pin, big time.” Sarah taunts, lifting a challenging eyebrow.
“Boys,” Sam calls Cass and AJ to attention, “watch and learn.” He spins to reclaim his marbled ball, which had just reached the return. The steps towards the lane were unfaltering yet again and Bucky eyed his moves yet again--the small bow took before letting go of the ball, and seeing it cruise smoothly in between both gutters--guarded by bumpers for Cass and AJ’s sake--before it disappeared into the mysterious abyss all nine pins had fallen into mere seconds ago. The last pin stood, victorious.
Sam only gives a nonchalant wave of his hand, shuffling towards the table to take his seat. “I’ll get a strike in the next one...still got nine turns left.” Sarah chuckles to herself, before patting Cass on the shoulder and informing him it was now his turn.
“So you just...try and knock the pins over?” Bucky furrows his eyebrows, sparing a glance at Sam. The man scoffs, setting his cup of soda down onto the table.
“It’s much more than that. A sport like this is all about aim, and timing. You can’t just walk up, toss the ball and expect to be a pro after one shot. It takes lots of practice.” Cass reapproached the table to give AJ a high five upon knocking down six pins. As the young boy waited for his ball to arrive at the return for his second go, Bucky’s eyes drifted from the pins being swept away from his lane and to the one beside him.
The table was overrun by a group of females, no doubt intoxicated by whatever liquid was hidden in the silver flask they were passing around. One person of the group was up taking her turn, while the rest made light, slurred conversation through giggles. His eyes landed on one girl, in particular, who was mouthing the lyrics of the pop song currently blasting over the speakers and using the flask as a makeshift microphone. The girl who just made her shot at the lane squealed in celebration of making a spare, before turning to announce, “Y/N, your turn!”
“Bucky, you’re up.” Sam pats his friend on the shoulder and points to the lane. Simultaneously, Bucky and the girl stood up from their seats and started for the ball return that sat in between their two lanes. As Bucky’s gloved hand reached for his designated ball--the heaviest one he could find for his vibranium limb, the girl’s fingers brushed his in search of her ball, by mistake.
“I’m sorry,” she says bashfully, looking away and concentrating on the lane now before her. Bucky waltzed up to the edge of the oiled alley before she could, left arm swinging the ball straight down the lane without a second thought. All he could muster was a blink at the sight of the ball colliding with the pins and knocking all ten of them down in succession. An amused smile crawled onto his pink lips at the sounds of amazement AJ and Cass elicit behind him.
Upon spinning back to reclaim his seat, he sends a smile to Sam. “I think I like this game.” Sam attempts to hide his twitching mouth at the sight of the scoreboard, which displayed Bucky merely one point ahead of him.
“Beginner’s luck.” The man mutters to himself, while Bucky’s eyes dart back over to the girl who still had yet to take her turn.
“Y/N just roll it already, you’ll be fine!” Y/N, or so Bucky assumed, took the word of advice from one of the women at the table behind her and stepped carefully towards the start of the lane. After releasing her ball in a moment of courage, she clenched her jaw and squeezed her eyes shut as the ball immediately drifted into the gutter.
“It’s fine, Y/N. You’re just rusty!” Someone else from the table assures. The girl nods, patiently waiting for her ball to be returned for her to shoot again. When she repeats the same motion and swings her arm to and fro, launching the ball down the wooden alley, she gasps in surprise after seeing it--barely--stay on track.
“It’s going, it’s going, it’s--” she pauses, eyeing the damage she did to the line of pins in the distance. “Yes!” She squeals, pumping a fist into the air. “I got one!”
Her friends gave her a few weak smiles and some thumbs up out of pity. Bucky simply turned his head away to focus on his own game in front of him. Maybe her friends are right, he thinks to himself, a few turns in and she’ll get the hang of it. By the third turn, the metal-armed man earned something bowlers call a “turkey” and Y/N was still stuck landing gutter balls each time she was sent up to bowl.
“She’s...terrible,” Bucky whispered to himself in a distaste.
“Yep.” Sam sighed as he took his seat, glaring at the scoreboard to see he was still one point from being tied with his friend. “Just terrible.” He lets out through gritted teeth.
“Maybe you should go help her.” Sarah cuts in with a devious smirk. The man turns to give her a look, shaking his head.
“Absolutely not. There’s a dance to these things. I can’t just--” His reasoning would not be accepted by Sarah or Sam. The excuses couldn’t even finish leaving Bucky’s mouth before his co-worker jostled him in the girl’s direction.
“Woah,” she stumbles on her feet from her stupor as the leather-clad man with who she brushed hands a while ago sidled up next to her.
“Uh, hello.” Bucky cleared his throat, steel blue eyes boring into hers.
“Hi…” The woman’s eyes darted from the man beside her to the set of pins, yet to be knocked over successfully by her. “Can I help you?”
“Actually, it looks like you’re the one who needs the help.” The man replies, reaching up to scratch the back of his neck. His eyes grow wide at her offended expression.
“Excuse me?”
“I didn’t mean it like that. Well, actually I did. Your form is terrible, your stances are completely off, and at this point, you have a better chance of hitting pins all the way in Sokovia.”
“Where?” She lifts an eyebrow in curiosity.
“Nevermind, forget about it.” The man grumbles, preparing to shuffle back over to his table in humiliation.
“Wait,” Y/N lays a hand on his shoulder, keeping him anchored to his spot on the floor. “You’re right. I’m on a whole other level of amateur tonight and could really use some help. Any pointers?” The man spares a shy glance at her frame, her fingers already inserted into the bowling ball and feet shoulder-width apart.
“May I?” He mumbles beside Y/N’s ear and conjures shivers of delight down the girl's spine. She spares a glance of her own as he is already situating his built body behind hers, placing his right hand, bare of any cloth on her side and directing her to move the ball to her left hand.
“I-I’m not left-handed.”
“Just trust me.” He whispers, cupping the girl’s left hand with his gloved one. Carefully, they mirror each other’s steps and bodily movements all the way to the edge of the lane and swiftly guide the ball to coast directly down the middle of the lane. Y/N can only stare in bewilderment for a few seconds as the ball takes a consistent trail straight into all ten pins and knocks them down without fail. She squeals and perceives her left hand, flexing her fingers, mouth open in awe.
“Oh my god, how did I do that?” She turns her stare up to Bucky, pointing a finger at his chest. “How did you do that? How did we...do that?” She whispers the last couple of words to herself.
“Would you believe me if I told you this is my first time bowling?” Y/N’s eyes mimic that of a doe, wide and curious as they stare up into his blue ones which were twinkling from the various screens and graphics displayed all about the building.
“Not really, would you believe me if I said this is the first time a handsome stranger has offered to help me with bowling?” She takes a daring step closer towards him, minimizing the proximity between their warm bodies. The two exchange flirty remarks back and forth as the minutes on both games dwindle. Neither party tried stopping them, though. Sarah held a smirk as she gazed at the successful matchmaking, while Sam decided to take Bucky’s turn for him and make two slow, pathetic rolls of the ball.
Meanwhile, Y/N’s intoxicated group of pals sat with their mouths agape, absorbing the sight before them with yearning heart eyes.
“No fair, I want a cute guy to help me bowl!” One of her friends whined, pouting her lips out. AJ and Cass shared a glance before the two of them were up out of their seats and leaping in front of the woman for her attention. Their pleas to aid her in her next turn overlapped one another.
“I’ll help! Pick me!”
“No, choose me! I’m way better!”
Y/N and Bucky could only glance over and chuckle as Cass led the much taller woman towards the lane, beside the two of them. “Step aside, lovebirds. It’s our turn.”
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