#...but today it’s being inspected so it’s unavailable

[skyward-floored]

Okay I may be totally dreading the upkeep and everything that goes into have a car but also I cannot get that thing soon enough

[slippinmickeys]

Okay if you feel like this is interesting for a Proof of Life fic...

just little windows into their first pregnancy, lounging and being happy, traveling for work maybe, and then meeting the baby for the first time or something.

1. He is staring at her face, but he doesn’t care. He is clocking every shift of her eyes, every microexpression; dying, dying to know if he’s done well, if he’s done the right thing. 

She stopped next to the real estate SOLD sign and is studying the outside of the house. It is modest, especially for this neighborhood, but it has nice lines, and verdant hydrangea bushes out front weighed down with so many pink and blue blossoms that you can hardly see any green.

“It’s got great curb appeal,” she says, and Mulder lets out an enormous sigh of relief. 

“Let me show you the inside,” he says, digging deep into his pocket for the set of keys the realtor had handed him only that morning. 

It takes two tries to get the door open, and Scully stands there wearing a patient smile, her hands resting on the soft swell of her stomach. 

“There we go,” he says, and he stops halfway over the threshold. “Do you want me to carry you in?” he asks, turning back toward her. He doesn’t want to fuck this up.

“Let’s save your back for the boxes,” she says. “I’m afraid you’re on your own for all the heavy lifting.”

“Roger that,” he says, and reaches out instead to grab her hand, pulling her into the small foyer. 

“A front closet,” she immediately observes. “That’s good. And room for a bench and shoes.”

With every nice thing she says, pounds upon pounds of weight lift off his shoulders. 

She was in Haiti far longer than either of them anticipated, and he offered to fly back to the States to start looking for a house for them to settle into once she was done. She’d given him a long list of requirements, and he’d kissed a lot of frogs before finding this house–a mid-century modern ranch in Alexandria with three bedrooms, two baths, and a check mark next to everything she’d requested. When he’d looked at it the first time, he’d felt it was right, and his realtor told him that if he wanted to put an offer down, he shouldn’t wait. 

“There are fifteen offers on it already–I mean, at this price, in this neighborhood?” She’d said. “But it’s an older couple that’s downsizing and they want it to go to a young family. I may have mentioned your wife’s condition and there’s a possibility I showed their realtor your picture from the Pulitzer ceremony.” She had glanced at Mulder with a look that screamed I hope I did the right thing. “They’re waiting on an offer from you. If they don’t get one today, they have another buyer picked out.”

And so after three phone calls to Scully’s cell phone that all went unanswered or were met by a recorded voice telling him the number he is trying to reach is unavailable, he put in an offer, which was accepted twenty minutes later and by the time Scully called him back, they were homeowners and she hadn’t so much as seen a picture of the house. Mulder had been there for the inspections, and escrow closed while she was still on Hispaniola. 

He likes the house. He hopes she loves it. 

“The kitchen is through here?” she asks. He nods and follows her in. 

“Wow, the appliances look new,” she says, and he simply smiles at her. 

They are new. Brand new. He’d bought them himself and had them installed before she got back to the States. The ones that came with the house were archaic–avocado green monstrosities with abysmal energy ratings. But the kitchen layout was great, and the countertops and cabinetry were acceptable and could be improved or replaced in the future. 

She runs her hands along the mantle in the living room, peaks out the window to look at the spacious backyard. She wanders into the master bedroom, complimenting the closet space, and when she gets to the back bedroom, she stops in the doorway. 

“The nursery,” he says quietly, putting a gentle hand on her lower back. 

The room is painted a soft yellow, and in the corner stands an enormous stuffed giraffe with a large bow around its neck. 

“From James, and the crew at the We clinic,” he says. “They say his name is Twiga.”

She turns to him with tears in her eyes. “Perfect,” she says. “It’s all perfect.” 

2.  “I can’t believe the only piece of furniture you own is a coffee table,” Scully says, putting her feet up on said object. 

Mulder is in the kitchen fiddling with the various bags of take out, assembling plates for them both. 

“You’re lucky I had it,” he calls to her over his shoulder. “Seeing as how Ethan got everything in the divorce.”

“Don’t even joke about that man,” Scully says, reaching down to adjust her wedding and engagement bands, making sure the small Indian diamond Mulder got her is perfectly centered. “When I moved in with him, he had nicer furniture, so I got rid of all mine. You know this. But even my old coffee table was better than this one. It’s hideous.”

Hideous might not be the right word, but it is certainly not to either of their tastes. She doesn’t know furniture styles all that well, but it looks practically colonial, with wooden legs that round into clawed feet, and nearly all of it is covered in intricate carving. It’s like a miniature version of the Resolute Desk. With feet. 

He appears from the doorway that leads from their kitchen to the living room carrying two plates laden with at least five different kinds of Chinese takeout. 

“That one has history. It has provenance. There’s a reason I kept it.”

He kept nothing else. He’d had a small storage unit in Boston with the coffee table and twelve boxes of photography equipment.

He sets his food down on the aforementioned artifact and hands her the plate he made up for her, along with utensils, a cheap paper napkin, paper-wrapped chopsticks and a fortune cookie. She dumps the chopsticks and fortune cookie on the table next to his and balances the plate on the enormous rounded drum of her stomach. 

“You don’t even need a table, Scully. You’ve got one built-in.”

She has to admit it is handy. It is next to impossible to pull up to a dining table (not that they had one) with the enormous mass of her stomach, so couch eating, using her stomach as a platform makes for a comfortable, tidy solution. Unless the baby kicks, then all bets are off. 

She gives him a look and continues to gaze at him. “If there’s provenance, I want to hear it.”

“My dad had it in college,” he says, taking an enormous bite of egg roll that he has to fully chew before he can go on.

“So far I’m unimpressed,” Scully says, turning to look at the table and then her plate. The plate is absolutely laden. She doesn’t know where to start. 

Mulder wipes his mouth and continues. “Dartmouth. One of his roommates was this super rich guy from Hyannis Port. Grew up next to the Kennedys. Rose was particularly fond of him. When he moved off campus in college, she found out and gave him a shitton of furniture from one of the Compound rooms she was redecorating to outfit the new digs. When Dad’s roommate graduated, he took everything but this.”

“I can’t blame him for leaving it,” Scully says, winding a bite of lo mein onto a fork. “It’s awful.”

“It’s interesting,” Mulder corrects her. “Probably three generations of Kennedys have put their scotch down on that table. It’s historic Americana.”

“I bet the Kennedys used coasters,” she says. “This piece of historic Americana,” she gestures to the table. “Looks like it was made from the captain’s berth of a whaling ship and is sporting what looks like at least five different water rings from Dartmouth Pabst.”

“At least one of those rings is mine and it was iced tea,” he says, standing up. “Speaking of…you want one?”

“Sure.” 

“Captain’s berth or not, this is what we’ve got for now,” he says, coming back into the room and handing her a cold Snapple. “Once we add a few more water rings and the dazzling crayon stylings of Scully Jr., we’ll donate it to the Smithsonian.”

“All I took from what you just said was that we can eventually get rid of it.”

“Fair enough,” he says. “But please keep in mind that the only furniture we currently have is a mattress still in plastic, the couch we’re sitting on which is on loan from your brother until his next posting and the Dartmouth Pabst Americana coffee table.”

“Hey, that’s a lot for two people who mostly lived in tents the last half decade.”

“And how,” he answers. 

Scully takes one more bite of food and slides the plate onto the only table they own. 

“You okay?” Mulder asks, instantly tender. “You barely ate.”

“If I eat more than five bites I’ll be up all night with heartburn,” she explains. 

Mulder obliviously wolfs down the last three bites of his own food and sets his plate down. 

“Here,” he says. “Swing your legs up here and I’ll rub your feet.”

Scully doesn’t hesitate and Mulder is digging into her aching arches before her head even hits the arm of the couch. 

She lays there blissed out for a moment. “Want to split a fortune cookie?” she asks after a moment, reaching for the one she set on the table. 

They break it in half like a wishbone and Scully gets the half with the fortune in it. She pulls out the little piece of paper and takes a crunchy bite of the cookie. Heartburn be damned, she can’t resist.

Mulder raises his eyebrows. “So?” he says. “What’s our fortune?” 

“You will soon find yourself in a Pottery Barn,” she reads. 

3. It’s the first time he’s been away from her overnight since she’s been back in the States. He hates it. She hates it. They both hate it. But they have a month to go before the baby is due, and he’s still looking for a full-time job. When he got a call asking if he wanted to be a part of a week-long photography symposium in California for a decent amount of cash, it was an opportunity he couldn’t turn down.  

He calls her as soon as the plane’s wheels touch down at National. He can’t wait to hear her voice. 

“Hey,” he says when she answers. “I just landed.”

“How was the flight?” she asks. Her voice is a little breathy, like maybe she was walking up a set of stairs. 

“Not bad, all things considered. A little weather over the Rockies. Are you out and about?”

He really hopes she isn’t. All he wants to do is go home, plant a massive kiss on her lips and then fall into bed with her in his arms and sleep until next Tuesday. 

“No, I’m home,” she says. 

“Oh,” he says. “Good.” 

“You’re taking the Metro home, right?” she asks. “You left your car at the Kiss & Ride?”

“Yeah,” he says. “I didn’t want you to have to come and get me.”

“Okay,” she says. There’s an odd quality to her voice that he can’t place, but forgets about it when she says “I missed you.”

“I missed you, too,” he says, his own voice going soft. 

The woman in the seat next to him looks at him and smirks, but he doesn’t care. 

“Listen, we’re about to pull into the gate. I’ll see you soon. Love you, Scully.”

“You too,” she says on a breath and then disconnects the line. 

The next hour is a pain in the ass. His luggage takes forever to come in and his hard case of camera equipment is dented on one side, so he has to go through each piece of equipment one at a time to check for damage. Luckily everything checks out. Outside, it’s a rush hour mob scene and the rain makes the train cars humid and smelling of funk and he’s half soaked by the time he makes it to his car. It’s not a long drive from the lot, and once he’s on Fort Hunt Road the traffic has finally thinned, but he has to stop for gas. By the time he pulls into their driveway, it’s dark, and he’s exhausted. He half hopes Scully’s asleep so he can just slide into bed too and lose himself to oblivion. 

He enters and kicks off his shoes, leaving his luggage by the door. The house is quiet and the lights are dim. He tries the master bedroom first, but she isn’t there. 

“Scully?” he calls out.

There’s a noise from the living room. When he enters, his stomach falls into his socks. 

Scully is half on the couch and half off, her arms resting against the cushions as if they're holding her up. It looks like she has maybe fallen. He cannot see her face.

“Scully!” He skids to her side on a bright burst of adrenaline and she turns to look at him weakly. 

“What happened? Are you okay? What’s-” The words all tumble out of his mouth one after the other and she reaches over and squeezes his arm, shutting him up instantly. 

“I’m fine,” she breathes. “It’s just…” She clenches her teeth, unable to finish, and Mulder instantly reads the situation. She’s in labor. A whole damned month early. 

“How far apart?” he asks her, breathless. 

The contraction seems to have passed and she gives him a weak smile. “Not very.”

“Why didn’t you call me?”

“You got teleporting abilities I don’t know about?” she asks, and he helps her move up and onto the couch. “I didn’t want you to worry.”

“You should have called your mom, you should-”

Another rough grab of her hand to his arm. “I’m not doing this—any of this—without you.”

4. They’re not left alone, the three of them, until they’ve been moved out of the spacious and plush Labor and Delivery ward and into the small, confining cell of Recovery. When at last the on-call nurse leaves the room with a smile and instructions on how to use the call button, the room descends into peace. A quiet, hovering peace. 

The baby is asleep, nestled into the crook of Scully’s arm, warm and oddly heavy.

Mulder still has a dazed and exhausted look on his face and is wearing the same clothes he traveled in yesterday, rumpled and a little bit worse for wear. He also hasn’t stopped smiling. A single, gentle click punctuates the silence and then he sets his camera down on the bedside table.

He is as quiet as the room itself and leans over the bed, staring at the baby. He only moves his gaze once, to flit his eyes to Scully’s, running a soft hand through her hair. 

“You did it,” he whispers. 

“I did,” Scully says happily, tiredly, following his gaze to look down at the small miracle of their child. 

The baby has a button nose, orange peach fuzz, and eyes that so look like Mulder’s that Scully can hardly look away herself. 

“Can I hold her?” he asks tenderly. “I don’t want to wake her, but…” 

He’d cut the cord, he’d gotten to shout “It’s a girl!!” He’d held her while the nurses helped Scully into the wheelchair to move floors. But he hasn’t yet had the chance to commune with the life he helped create, and Scully knows that’s what he wants and she knows it’s something he needs. 

“Of course,” she says, immediately moving the tiny child up and around so that Mulder can take her, tubes trailing down from the IV line taped to the back of her hand. 

His hands are gentle and tender as he lifts her, and big, so big that the baby practically looks like an egg in a baseball mitt.

“Hi,” he says to her once she’s settled in his arms. He wears a big smile, brushing eyes with Scully before staring back down at his daughter. “Hello Emily,” he says, like he’s trying on the name. The baby snuffles, settles. 

Beyond the walls of the hospital, airplanes cross and fly overhead. Beyond the walls of the hospital, are arguments, traffic accidents, war. People are kidnapped. People are killed. Beyond the walls of the hospital is everything else. 

Mulder settles into the chair in the corner of the room, his daughter laying snuggly in his lap, and he doesn’t move for a very, very long time.

[shyvioletcat]

A/N: HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME! It’s my birthday today and my gift to you is this chapter that took me far too long to finish. I really hope you like it and I’m not going to delay any longer. 

~ Made of Ashes Masterlist ~

~~~~~

Rowan’s day started like any other, he got up, checked his emails, got ready for work and ate his breakfast. It wasn’t until he was half way through his cereal that he realised anything out of the ordinary. A notification lit up his phone and he assumed that it was just an email but a quick glance told him it was a text from his mother. He wasn’t one to have a preview on his lock screen, so he unlocked his phone to read it.

Happy Birthday, son. Hope you have a nice and relaxing day. Love, Mum. 

He blinked once, and then remembered that today was, in fact, his birthday. Rowan had forgotten, and he didn’t care. There were other things that needed to be done today instead of acknowledging another year on the earth. Without any effort Rowan sent a simple thank you text back. Today was just another day, there was nothing special about it, nothing to celebrate.

When he got into work Rowan barely looked up from his phone. Partly due to the copious amount of emails in his inbox and partly because he didn’t want to interact with anyone. No one should know about his birthday, he wasn’t exactly the most social being in this office. Essar might, but that came with the inside knowledge of being the head of HR. And they were friendly, but not friends. A casual birthday wish was all Rowan expected of her if he couldn't avoid it. 

So when he walked into his office and there was an obscenely large gift basket sitting on his desk Rowan was taken aback. 

Slipping his phone into the inside pocket of his jacket he approached the desk, circled it while inspecting the gift basket. From the items he could see he could tell this thing wasn’t cheap. The bottle of whiskey in there would have well over a hundred dollars on its own. Rowan stopped by his chair, peering over the layers of clear cellophane for a card. It was tucked under one of the corners of the physical woven basket and he didn’t bother to wait with his suspicions any longer and slid it out from underneath the substantial weight. He tore at the envelope and flipped open the small card. 

For the third time today, his birthday had presented him with yet another surprise. 

Inside the card was an elegant and simple message of birthday well wishes—from his boss. The text was printed so Maeve hadn’t signed it off herself, and Rowan doubted that she had even come up with the words herself they were so generic. Still, she had gone through this much effort to give him a gift. Regardless of whatever thought and effort was put into the obscene jumble of items, Rowan picked up the basket and moved it off his desk to one of the couches in his office. He had work to do, so he would be returning that later. 

Later turned out to be just before close of business. It would be the worst time to carry the thing through the office when everyone was cramming to finish what they could before they were allowed to go home. Instead Rowan waited, using the quiet moment to see to more personal affairs. He pulled out his phone, checking his messages. There was another one from his mother asking about his day, and a text along with a missed call from his father. A few texts from friends, which he took a glance over. He was about to reply when a ding from his computer drew his attention away. Rowan had expected it to be a client or co-worker sending in an email desperately before he became unavailable. But it wasn’t, it was from someone completely unexpected. 

It must have been morbid curiosity that made him click on it. What he should have done was checked in on the small empty box beside it and deleted it. But instead, his mouse found its way onto the subject heading and it opened on his screen. It was just an e-card, outdated and cheesy. But ever since they had started dating she had sent one to him. What had started out as a joke had become a tradition and now Rowan stared at something that had been waiting a full year to be delivered to him. 

The photo was of him and Aelin, taken on his last birthday and he was sure if he looked for some kind of date stamp he’d find that the entire email was created just hours after it was taken. She did it that way so she wouldn’t forget, so that he wouldn’t be forgotten. The irony of it was that she had forgotten, after everything this had slipped her mind and hadn’t been cancelled. 

Rowan couldn’t help it, he stared at the joy on their faces, the way they so easily stood with their bodies so close together. The hand Aelin had on the collar of his jacket was tight and he remembered how she had pulled him in for a kiss with that grip. The joke of the e-card had been how badly it was done, Aelin annually tried her hand at his job, presenting him with a horribly designed card. He worked in advertising, anything he presented to the public was flawless. But with its garish and clashing colours and comic sans font, this was awful. It was the text that drew in his focus now. 

Happiest of Birthdays to you, Buzzard,

Can’t wait to celebrate with you later ;)

I love you, forever and always.

Aelin.

For the first time in a while he felt the weight on his chest that he had worked so hard to remove. He had to tell himself that all this was a reminder of what he’d had, a part of his past and nothing that was part of his future. Not after what Aelin had forced him into. That familiar anger settled on him, something that was so natural to him after these months of silence. With an easy click on the trashcan icon the email was gone. There wouldn’t be another. 

Rowan was officially done with the day and he knew Maeve would be in her office, rarely one to leave early despite her position. So he once again picked up the gift basket, and walked it through the mostly empty office space. No one paid him any attention except Maeve’s secretary when he stopped outside the door. She was new, Rowan hadn’t learnt her name yet. 

“Mr Whitethorn, you can go in,” she said with a trained and pleasant smile. Rowan didn’t return it, he just nodded. 

Maeve was sitting at her desk, glasses on as she annotated whatever she was going over. She didn’t look up until she was ready, always holding the upper hand. When she did glance up she did a double take before she lent back in her chair to see him better. 

“Ah, I see you got my gift,” she said smoothly.

“I did, but I can’t accept it,” Rowan told her, not wanting to draw this out. “It’s too much and I don’t care for my birthday anyway. It’s just another day.” 

“That’s unfortunate.” Maeve didn’t push the matter of the gift, just gestured for him to put it down. Although he didn’t miss what he thought was annoyance flash across her face. “If you won’t accept the gift, can I interest you in dinner instead?” 

Rowan put the ridiculous hamper on one of the chairs by her desk. “Not tonight.” 

“Are you sure? I could get us into Spring Rose, I know the chef,” Maeve persisted.

The name of the restaurant brought him up short. Rowan knew the place, he had taken Aelin there when he’d brought her to visit her parents. She had met him after work, dressed to the nines and beautiful. 

“No,” Rowan said flatly. “Thank you for the offer but I can’t.” 

Maeve laughed humourlessly. “You’ve just told me that you don’t care for your birthday and you’re returning my gift. It’s not likely that you have plans for the evening.” 

She was weaving a web to catch him and right now it was pissing Rowan off. He just wanted to go home and be done with today. “I understand, it’s a generous offer. But not tonight.”

“I might hold you to that,” Maeve said casually. “It's unfortunate that you don’t want the hamper, but I understand. I’ll just have to enjoy it myself.”

Rowan was relieved that she relented, arguing about his boss about his birthday was not something he wished to do. “Goodnight, I’ll see you Monday.”

“Goodbye, Rowan,” was all Maeve said and then she went back to her screens.

He grabbed his things from his office and then he headed for his car, thoughts invading his mind. The email stung in a way Rowan hadn’t expected. It was a reminder to him that he and Aelin had always thought they were in it for the long haul. How wrong they had been. A few messages popped up on his dash, most likely birthday well wishes. Rowan planned to ignore all of those, and just reply to his mother. She didn’t deserve his foul mood. He replied to her on the ride up in the elevator and then threw the phone into his laptop bag with the full intent of not looking at it until tomorrow. 

His apartment seemed quieter than usual, something about his solitude more oppressive. The email had provoked something in him. Rowan began to wonder if Aelin ever thought about him, or if she had to fight so hard to banish him from her thoughts like he had done. Work was his remedy for that, what was Aelin doing to distract herself?

Rowan sighed, going to his fridge and got himself a beer. There was nothing to be done about this, and just like everything else he had done regarding Aelin, he shoved the thoughts over the email out and away. They served no purpose, he didn’t need them. He sat on the couch and reached for the remote, taking a long sip of his beer while the TV booted up. Something mysterious and crime filled would be good to distract him, to give him a good puzzle to solve.

He chose a series he’d heard cursory good reviews about. While the opening credits played he went to the fridge, grabbed out a cold container of pasta and another beer. Rowan made good time, sitting down just and the director’s name faded from the screen. He set his next beer on the low coffee table in front of him and yanked the lid off the container of pasta. It would be better heated up but he just couldn’t be bothered. Reaching for his beer, clinking it against the unopened one, the glass making a sharp ting over the sound of the TV.  

Rowan sighed and took a long swig of his beer before saying, “Happy birthday to me.”  

~~~~~

Leaving the house with a little baby was still such a strange thing. Aelin had done it a few times now, not once by herself, until today. Childbirth had wrecked her more than she had expected and it had taken her longer to recover than she would realise. Elide had tried to warn her—Aelin had been too cocky. She had pretty much spent the first 6 weeks of Elsie’s life in her apartment unless someone came to pick her up or visit, and there had been plenty of visitors to keep her sane. Today at least she had driven by herself, albeit a little slower and a hell of a lot more cautious than she usually would. 

She was meeting Elide, Lorcan and Korbin at the local shopping centre. They had plans to get some lunch and then do some casual shopping. Aelin was running late, but chances were so were they as well. Children tended to cause that. Popping the boot Aelin pulled out the pram and unfolded it with practised ease. Because Aelin had been practising ever since she bought the thing, she had no plans to be fumbling around trying to fold or unfold it in a desperate situation. Flicking on the break, Aelin went to the back door and got Elsie out of her car seat. She was dozing, her brow furrowed like she couldn’t decide if she wanted to be awake or not. 

“Oh, come on little Elsie,” Aelin cooed, scooping the infant out of the car. She went to put Elsie into the pram but as soon as Aelin started to ease the baby onto the padded bassinet she loudly proclaimed her displeasure. “Ok, not doing that then.”

Aelin dropped the nappy bag into the pram instead and rested Elsie on her shoulder, pressing a kiss to her beanied head. The pram was easy enough to manoeuvre with one hand—another feature Aelin had tested out. A short walk and an elevator ride later they were in the large courtyard that was surrounded by a variety of restaurants. Aelin’s eyes landed on the Italian place selected for luch, because Korbin’s current favourite food was pasta at the moment. It was across the courtyard through the autumn sunshine. It was a very rare sunny day in late November, by now winter usually had the city in its thrall, but today was very nice. 

When Aelin reached the door of the restaurant a waiter rushed to open the door for her. She nodded her thanks and then looked around for her lunch companions. Korbin gave them away, Aelin heard his loud laugh and then saw his dark head of hair pop up over the booth then quickly disappear again. Whatever game Korbin was playing made Aelin smile and she navigated the pram through the tables. 

“Hey guys,” Aelin said as she got closer. Korbin waved an enthusiastic hello, hyped up on all the activity. 

“You right?” Lorcan asked, starting to rise out of the booth to help as Korbin peered over the seat again. 

Aelin shook her head and flicked on the pram brake. “No, I’m good.”

She slid onto the seat next to Elide, sighing like she’d just been through a whole ordeal instead of walking from the car to the restaurant. 

“Gimme,” Elide held out her hands for the baby.

“Oh, it’s nice to see you too,” Aelin joked but handed the baby over anyway.

Elide grinned, air kissing at Aelin. “You know I love you even more.” With the next sentence her voice changed into baby talk. “This one is just so squishy.” 

Aelin rolled her eyes playfully, because she totally understood where Elide was coming from. Then she turned to the little boy who was trying to climb on his dad's shoulder. “Hey, Korby, look who Mum has.”

Korbin turned, eyes landing on Elide and they all watched as his face morphed into something that could be described as disgust. Lorcan chuckled and Aelin grinned. It was common knowledge that Korbin was not a fan of the new baby, and if the toddler had the capability to hate anything, he hated when Elide held her. 

“You two are not helping,” Elide scolded, rubbing Elsie’s back. “We’re supposed to be encouraging him to like the baby.”

“Ells, he’s nearly two,” Lorcan said. “He’s going to do what he’s going to do.”

“Still,” Elide pressed.

Aelin laughed. “He’ll come around, he doesn’t have a choice. I’m sure they’ll be friends… eventually.”

With the teasing done with, Aelin turned her attention to the menu. By the time they had ordered Elide had gotten Elsie to sleep and was happily holding her until the food arrived. Korbin immediately started eating his nuggets and chips, losing interest in games and the baby. But Elide would need two hands to eat her steak sandwich. Aelin was about to offer to move Elsie to the pram but Lorcan got there first. He leaned over and easily eased the infant over the table, holding her close as he stood up. Very gently he put Elsie down in the pram, taking the time to tuck her in and make sure she was comfortable. It was still odd to see Lorcan be so… soft. Especially when it was somehow related to Aelin. The truce between them that had started on the way to the hospital was still holding strong it seemed. 

The lunch was nice and Elsie blessedly stayed asleep the whole time. With a few interruptions from Korbin, Aelin was able to hold nice and casual adult conversations that didn’t always revolve around the baby. It was nice, it felt like things were getting back to normal. They finished, paid and then headed to the main shopping complex to browse the stores. Women’s clothes didn’t particularly hold Lorcan’s attention so he wandered off, leaving the mothers and children for a bit. 

“This would look fantastic on you,” Elide said, holding up a simple but elegant red dress.

Aelin shrugged. “I’d have nowhere to wear it.”

“Yet,” Elide said pointedly.

“Elide, Elsie is six weeks old. No one is going to be interested in this mess,” Aelin gestured to herself.

The brunette scoffed. “One, you are not a mess.”

“I am,” Aelin countered.

“A hot mess then. And two, I never said anything about a date, you could wear the dress anytime. Sometimes it’s just nice to put clothes on that don’t have stains on them,” Elide explained. “It’s just nice to do something just for you. That’s all.”

Aelin looked at the dress and considered, she even completed trying it on, but then Korbin ran into Elide’s legs a distinct smell following him. 

“Oh, that’s not good,” Elide muttered, taking Korbin’s hand. “Come on, let's get you changed then. Meet you back here?”

“No, I’ll just wait on the seats outside,” Aelin said.

They moved out of the store together, but then Elide hurried away towards the bathrooms. Aelin went to the couches that took up some of the in between spaces in the middle of the different stores. She had just sat down when she heard her own child fussing and pulled the pram close so that she could get Elsie out. Pushing back the visor Aelin saw Elisie’s fists waving around, the rest of her body still tucked securely in the blanket from Lorcan’s efforts. 

“I bet you’re hungry,” Aelin said, and reached down into the nappy bag under the bassinet of the pram. She’d packed a bottle to prepare for this, the thought of feeding in public was a little daunting and Aelin wasn’t sure if she was brave enough to attempt it. Public nudity wasn’t on her list of things to do today. 

Aelin kept sifting blindly through the nappy bag, waiting to feel the smooth lid of the bottle. But she didn’t. As Elsie started to cry louder Aelin pulled the bag into her lap, visibly searching. 

“No,” Aelin hissed. “No, I didn’t…” 

Now she was pulling things out of the bag because she couldn’t believe how she'd forgotten something so essential. While she stared at the wet wipes and extra onesie in her hand and the half empty bag, Elsie decided to start screaming her lungs out with desperate and hungry cries. If that went on any longer Aelin might end up with a boob problem and soak through her shirt triggered by her baby’s needs. Aelin probably had about thirty seconds before this went into a full blown crisis and she might be scared off coming out by herself again. 

The parents' room was all the way at the other end of the shopping mall. It would take her at least 5 minutes to get there, longer if she couldn’t get an elevator. The panic was setting in and if only made Elsie fuss more. Aelin only had one choice. Going on instinct and what was now muscle memory, Aelin cradled Elsie while she unbuttoned the top few buttons on her shirt. There was no time to grab a wrap to drape over herself and she wore a maternity singlet under her blouse so realistically she would barely be exposed. But still her cheeks burned with embarrassment as Elsie sought out her meal. Maybe once she was settled Aelin would be able to grab something. 

As Elsie started to feed Aelin felt her anxiety start to ebb and she sunk into the couch a little more. It was fine, everything was fine, and now Aelin could start to think. Making sure not to disturb her now content daughter, Aelin leaned towards the pram to get the muslin wrap that sat in the bottom basket. It wasn’t easy and leaving Elsie to her task was the main priority. And the little baby did not like the disturbance.

Cheeks burning, Aelin sat back up at the request of the impatient whimpering. It was fine, this was fine. She was just doing what women had been doing for millions of years. There was no reason to be embarrassed. That didn’t stop her shoulders from tightening when she caught an older woman looking at her, disapproval written all over her face and that just transferred to the friend next to her.

Aelin glanced down, feeling so self conscious. She was barely showing any skin, what she wore hid most of it. It wasn’t like she was parading around topless. Her stomach dropped as one of the irritated women started walking over. Mummy blogs were full of horror stories of women breastfeeding in public. Aelin was about to live one.

“Excuse me, sorry,” the woman said, stopping right in front of Aelin. 

Aelin’s voice caught in his throat. “Yes?”

“I would really appreciate it if you covered up.”

And there it was. Aelin tried not to flush, but her cheeks were burning red. “I’m just feeding my baby.”

“I can see that,” the woman’s blue eyes narrowed. “I just don’t think—“

“Is there a problem?”

Aelin hadn’t noticed Lorcan approaching, she had been too focused on the woman intent on embarrassing her. But there he stood, looming over the both of them with his arms crossed, a challenge on his face. Aelin tried not to smile as the unsolicited advice giver blanched a little. 

“I meant no disrespect,” the woman said. “But—”

“Then you’ll have no problem leaving,” Lorcan cut in. 

The woman weighed her options for half a moment and then thankfully left. Aelin let out a nervous laugh mixed with a sigh, and realised there might be tears of relief gathering in her eyes. Lorcan definitely pretended not to notice as he landed on the couch next to her. He kept his arms crossed and the do not approach expression on his face, glaring at anyone who even glanced at Aelin wrong. It was almost comical, and Aelin might had laughed—if her throat would stop feeling so tight. 

“Thank you, Lorcan,” Aelin said eventually. She hated the way her voice shook just a fraction. 

Lorcan shrugged one of his massive shoulders. “Kid’s gotta eat.” 

Then something very weird happened. Lorcan offered his fist for a fist bump. Without hesitation Aelin knocked his knuckles with hers, a new feeling of camaraderie bloomed between them. Lorcan had her back, and it was a strangely comforting feeling. 

It wasn’t long before Elide found them too, by then Elsie was sitting on Aelin’s knee with assistance. Aelin patted the infant’s back, hoping the burp would be more air than vomit. 

“What’s going on here?” Elide asked while Korby ran circles around her knees. 

“Oh, Lorcan’s just defending my honour,” Aelin said.

Elide turned a questioning glance at her husband, he gave her the slightest hint of a smile. “Some people need to pull their heads out of their arses.”

“Ohhh-kay,” Elide said, with no idea of what was happening.

Aelin would have explained further, but Elsie chose just then to burp up half her lunch. Lorcan was there a second later, whipping out a burp cloth from the pram to catch it. 

“Truly my knight in shining armour,” Aelin added, as lightly as she could. This was heading into a new and slightly weird aspect of their relationship.

Aelin knew that Lorcan had taken Rowan’s side in things, he had chosen to tolerate her for so long she really had to commend his dedication to it. When Korbin was born things had gotten better, but she always felt that wall there because he was Rowan’s friend and not her’s. But now, it was almost like they were fringing into the realm of friends. If their general banter was any indication they might already be there.

“Here, let me take her,” Lorcan offered, reaching out for the infant. “Go do your lady stuff or whatever. I’ll take these two to the park.”

With a few extra thank yous Aelin and Elide resumed their shopping expedition. They were in a homewares store when Aelin felt her phone vibrate in her pocket. She looked at the notification taking a moment to figure out what it was. It was an email, telling her her e-card had been sent. For a moment Aelin just blinked at it as she remembered exactly what it was. It was Rowan’s birthday and her annual half-assed card she had curated for this year had been sent. 

Aelin hadn’t even realised what the date was, on one hand she had trouble keeping track these days and on the other she really didn’t care anymore. She just hit delete and didn’t bother to give it another thought. Without her making a new for next year the tradition would die. That didn’t matter, she had better things to focus on now. And yet some simmering bitter part of her hoped that Rowan got it. It would be early evening in Doranelle now, maybe it would catch him just before he left for home. Aelin hoped that it would make him think of her and he would regret what he’d so readily thrown away. 

~~~~~

Iris and Evander had told Aelin they would be in Orynth a little over a week. They already had a few things they’d planned to do before the unexpected revelation of an unknown grandchild had disrupted that, and asked if they could fit in seeing Elsie in between. After that first outing in the park and considering how well that went, Aelin agreed. Guilt might have been the main motivator but it was easy enough to see that they were quickly falling in love with their granddaughter. 

The easiest way to sort it all out was for Iris and Evander to drop by the bakery in between galleries and sightseeing. They had done that at least once a day over the past few days, they had even managed it twice yesterday. Iris would send a text and Aelin would bring Elsie out from her office. The little girl was excited to see her new friends and would happily go along with them, leading them to a table, and Aelin would go back to work. That’s where they were now, tucked into one of the tables in the corner out of the way. Today the grandparents had bought Elsie a colouring in pack and she stood on a chair with Evander sitting close by to make sure she didn’t fall as she created whatever her heart desired.  

Aelin watched as she waited for Emrys to finish making her coffee, needing a little buzz as afternoon rolled around. When it was done he pushed it over the counter and nodded to the commotion in the corner. 

“You never did tell me who they were.” 

Aelin cringed. She hadn’t and that may have been a little purposeful.  “Do you remember that guy who came in a while ago and things were a little weird?”  

Emrys hummed as a way of saying yes. 

“He’s Elsie’s father and those two are his parents,” Aelin gestured with a hand to the occupied table. 

Emrys tightened his grip on the dishcloth he held. “I thought you called him an unfeeling and pathetic bastard.”

“I did say that, yes.” That was one of the more tamer things she had called him. 

“And that he was long gone,” Emrys added.

Aelin shrugged at that. “Not as much as I was expecting.” 

“Well, that explains some things,” Emrys said. 

Cringing again, Aelin turned back to where Elsie was holding court. She hadn’t been the best employee over the last few months while she dealt with this situation. She’d been distracted and late or worked from home without much notice. Emrys had never said a thing, probably assuming Elsie was the cause. And she was, just in a roundabout way. 

Untying and dropping his apron on the counter Emrys said, “I should go introduce myself.”

Before Aelin could even think of protesting, Emrys had Iris and Evander’s drinks in hand and took them over to the table. She watched as he approached and once Elsie saw her face lit up in a bright smile and she started showing him all the things she had created. Emrys smiled, fixing one of Elsie’s clips that had come loose, smiling and nodding along. He very much had been something of a surrogate grandfather to the girl, and very protective of the two of them. It was touching that he would be so concerned for them. It just reminded Aelin that Emrys was a good and kind man. 

Emrys introduced himself to the grandparents, shaking hands with both of them. Everyone was all smiles, not that Aelin expected anything less. It was just strange to have the life she had left behind meet up with the one she had forged for herself. Aelin tore her eyes away and ducked behind the counter, picking out a small chocolate tart for herself. Eating behind the counter wasn’t exactly sanitary so she put it on a plate and went to sit down and have a chat with the elder Whitethorns. 

She passed Emrys on the way and he stopped her with a gentle hand on her arm. “They seem nice. They adore little Elsie.” 

Aelin nodded. “They’re good people. And they really do.”

The admission made unexpected emotions surge to the surface. She couldn’t help but feel like she had stolen time from them. They were Elsie’s grandparents, and if these past days were any indication they would have been fantastic grandparents. Iris and Evander had never done anything wrong by Aelin in the time she and Rowan had dated, so had it been wrong to keep Elsie from them?

That was a question that kept hounding her and that she continually ignored. It felt like one that might send her tower toppling. So, once again she did ignore it and worked a conscious smile onto her face. When Aelin sat down at the table it took her daughter a moment to notice that she had, and in fact she noticed the tart first. Elsie’s eyes landed on the chocolatey goodness, then followed the hand up the arm to the face that owned it. 

“Mama!” Elsie said, her face delighted. “I some?”

Aelin’s smile turned genuine and she nodded, scooping up a spoonful of tart to offer it to her daughter. 

“We’re not pulling you away from work, are we?” Iris asked. 

“No, I don’t have anything urgent to get to,” Aelin answered. “I had something to ask you anyway. On Saturday there’s a get together at a park, it’ll be us and the Salvaterres, and my cousin will come too. We get the kids together to play every so often and the weather will start getting too cold soon to take them outside. Anyway… would you like to come?”

Aelin had rambled a little but her thoughts were all a bit jumbled today and she just needed to get the offer out. She had already cleared it with the others, Aedion hadn’t met her maybe would have been in-laws and the perpetual busybody he was, he'd insisted out of curiosity alone. 

“Oh, Saturday?” Evander hedged. 

“Yeah, Saturday,” Aelin confirmed. 

It was Iris who picked up the conversation after that. “We had plans with Rowan on Saturday.”

Aelin was going to drown in the amount of awkwardness that swept over her. “Ah.”

Iris looked at Elsie like she was contemplating something, her lips tight. Aelin just waited, she didn’t want to butt into this situation. She would leave it up to them to make the choice between their granddaughter and their son. That was a choice Aelin had no business interfering with, regardless of what she thought the better decision was.

“Might I suggest something, and I want you to feel no obligation to agree,” Iris said. 

“Of course,” Aelin tried not to let the hesitation she felt into her voice. 

“Would you consider inviting Rowan? I know things are awkward between you, and there’s some tension when you inevitably run into each other,” Iris stated, obviously having been filled in on his side of things. “Might it be good to meet on neutral ground. Have an official introduction of sorts, let Elspeth explore her curiosity with him in an environment that doesn’t encroach on your sanctuary.”

Aelin sat for a moment, just processing Iris’ idea. She had made some valid points. Elsie had a very obvious interest in Rowan, and Aelin had noticed it multiple times. The moment in the bakery most noticeably, it was like she couldn’t keep away when they ended up in the same vicinity. And that was something Aelin didn’t want to look at too closely at—the why of Elsie’s behaviour. If Rowan came there wouldn’t be the pressure of just him and them. There would be other people to buffer interactions and create distance. Iris and Evander would be there, Rowan could be their situation to deal with. And with how gracious they had been over the whole secret grandchild thing… maybe Aelin could allow them this.

“Yeah, okay,” Aelin said at last. “That sounds like a good idea.”

Aelin knew it would be awkward and she would need to do some damage control with Aedion, but this could be the icebreaker that she needed. Probably how the baby shower should have gone if they had been more prepared. In the truth of it, Aelin was losing her fight. The vigilance and the anger was exhausting, and on more than one occasion it was evident that Elsie had been affected by the strain. Maybe a move toward neutrality wasn’t such a bad idea. 

~~~~~

His mother was a saint, or maybe she was just gods blessed. Either way Rowan didn’t know how she’d accomplished it or how he was going to thank her for doing what he couldn’t. As grateful as he was, it didn’t banish the nerves over what was happening today or the situations he’d find himself in. In his mind the whole thing seemed uncomfortable and awkward. What was he supposed to do at a playdate at a children’s playground when he had no children himself? Well, he did. At least biologically.

Aelin would be there, so would the Salvaterres and the Ashryvers apparently. Iris hadn’t mentioned if Aelin’s parents would be coming, but Rowan hoped they weren’t. That would be the one inconvenience that might send him running. His last interaction with Rhoe Galathynius had been tense to say the least and Rowan was not looking to test the limits of that man’s patience again any time soon. 

Rowan had driven his parents to the local playground, the cool early autumn air invading his lungs as he tried to keep his anxiety from showing.  Getting out of the car hadn’t been as ebay as it should have been. 

“Calm down, son,” Iris said to him, squeezing his arm once as they started walking away from the parked car. “Your nerves will do you no good.” 

The playground was fairly busy, but Elspeth was easy to spot. Her curls and bright laughter drew Rowan’s attention immediately. She was being chased by Fenrys who had Korbin on his shoulders. Ruben ran interference to keep Fenrys back so that Elspeth could win whatever game they were playing. It was a sight to see, but it just left Rowan feeling conflicted. Another reminder that he was very much on the outside of this. With a quick glance around it was a relief to see that the elder Galathyniuses were not in attendance, but there was still Aedion to contend with.

“Let’s go and say hello,” Evander said, leading the charge to one of the shaded picnic tables that the group was gathering at. 

“What’s Fenrys doing here?” Iris mused and Rowan stopped short. He was one part of the tale that had been left out. “Aelin never mentioned him coming along, does he have a kid too?”

“Um,” Rowan stammered out. “No, he doesn’t.”

“Then why…” This time his mother stopped, her words trailing off as she watched the scene unfold, looking to where Fenrys had stopped playing with the children and was now wrapping his arms around Aelin. She beamed up and he dropped a kiss onto her cheek. “They’re together.”

The three of them were halted now, still far enough away that they hadn’t been noticed and the hushed circle that was forming wouldn’t seem rude. Iris’ eyes narrowed, suspicion and confusion shining there. Rowan had been there, and imagined he would have looked much the same when he had first spotted the couple in the grocery store. 

“Yeah, they are,” Rowan offered lamely.

Iris gestured in their direction. “You’re okay with this? He was your friend?”

Rowan didn’t think this was the time or place to recount how not okay he was with it, he’d have time to admit his sins later. “I’ve had to accept it.”

Iris shook her head. “What a dick move.”

Any other time Rowan would have laughed at hearing a term like that come from his mother’s mouth, but right now he was too tense.

“Now, we don’t know the circumstances or the reasons,” Evander came in, ever the measured calmness to the tempers of his other family members. “It’s not our business and not why we’re here. So, shall we?”

With a final shake of her head, Iris took the lead this time, Rowan following stiffly behind. It was time to face his fate. 

~~~~~

Aelin tensed as she saw the Whitethorns walking over. It was the moment of truth. Her boyfriend’s arms were still around so he felt the shift in her body language. He peered over her shoulder, obviously having seen who was coming as well, and tilted her head up with his fingers.

“You say the word and I’ll very politely ask them to leave, or just one of them anyway,” Fenrys offered. 

He hadn’t been enthusiastic about the idea of Rowan coming, and it had Aelin explaining it twice for him to come around. Fenrys still wasn’t thrilled, but he trusted her judgement on this. 

“No, it’s fine,” Aelin assured him. “It’s something that needs to be done.”

“Is it?” That comment came from Lysandra who was currently rocking the youngest member of their party. Eamon Salvaterre was very much contentedly asleep.

For all of Fenrys’ understanding Aedion and Lysandra had been doubly opposed. They thought the best course of action was to ignore Rowan completely, even when that was clearly not working. 

“Please try and be at least polite, and Iris and Evander don’t deserve any ill feelings,” Aelin told them. “Just… be nice.”

“You chose to do this in public so we couldn’t cause a scene didn’t you? Smart.” Elide said and Aelin hushed her viciously as the others came into earshot.

“Hello, hello,” Iris said pleasantly. 

Aelin disentangled herself from Fenrys and stepped over to where Iris was standing so that she could introduce everyone. “Hi, Iris. This is my cousin, Aedion, and his wife Lysandra. And this is Elide who married our dear Lorcan, but we have no idea why. Had two of his children too, which is another mystery entirely. Fenrys you know, of course.”

There were waves and hellos exchange, and Aelin noticed Fenrys’ features fall a little when Iris wouldn’t quite meet his eye. Rowan lingered at the back looking so awkward and out of place Aelin almost pitied him. Almost, there was the whole abandonment thing holding back her compassion. 

“Elsie is playing with the other kids, but I’m sure once she sees you she’ll come and say hello,” Aelin said, not sure of what else to do now. 

“Right,” Evander nodded. “Rowan, there’s something I wanted to talk to you about.”

Bless Evander and his tact for leading Rowan away, most likely to talk about nothing. It relieved some of the tension but not all of it. Aelin was sure that she wouldn’t relax until she was safe at home again. She looked at the play equipment and saw Korby and Rue helping Elsie across the ropes arranged as a spider’s web. It was quite sweet how those boys doted on her. 

“So, you married Lorcan, did you?” Iris said, starting up a conversation with Elide. 

Aelin felt a tug on her hand, and was being drawn off to the side. It wasn’t a child though. 

“I don’t think Iris is very happy with me,” Fensys whispered. 

“I’m sure you’re imagining it.” Aelin did not sound convincing. 

Her boyfriend sighed. “I’m not sure what I was expecting. I guess Rowan left out the little tidbit about us.”

“Mama!” This time it was a child that took Aelin’s hand. “Mama, not watching.”

“No, sorry, I wasn’t,” Aelin dropped into a crouch, wiping off a smudge of dirt on Elsie’s face. “Did you see that Iris and Evan are here?”

The pigtails on top of her head whipped around as Elsie turned in search of her newest friends. She grinned when she spotted Iris talking to Elide. 

“Wanna go say hi?” Aelin asked.

“Yes, ‘peas,” Elsie said, not waiting for her mother before running for Iris’ legs. Luckily she didn’t collide too hard and Iris just placed a comforting hand on the little girl’s head. 

“You want to do this now?” Fenrys asked as Aelin stood. 

“Might as well.”

There had been extensive conversation about how The Introduction, as they had dubbed it, would go. Aelin wasn’t exactly comfortable sending off Elsie by herself, and on the flip side she also didn’t feel comfortable being the fifth wheel in the situation. Fenrys offered to do it instead, despite the history between him and Rowan. That had mellowed out anyway and the boys would have to be on their best behaviour with Rowan’s parent’s around. It wasn’t a question of trust, Aelin knew Elsie was entirely safe. She just wanted someone who would be wholly on Elsie’s side and be a way out if she needed it. So it was decided Fenrys would do it, keeping his distance and not interfering, but just to keep an eye on things.

Fenrys went over and charmingly sorted out the situation himself, following as Iris took Elsie’s hand and walked towards where Rowan and his father had been waiting. He kept his distance, like he said he would, hands in his pockets as he spoke to both his companions. They reached their destination and Aelin watched it all happen as Rowan crouched down to talk to Elsie. She couldn’t see Elsie’s face, but Rowan’s lit up. He smiled, it looked slightly stunned, but it was there. They talked for a few moments before Korbin darted over, full speed as he used the momentum of coming off the slide to propel himself. He spoke to Elsie, completely ignoring the adults. The little girl at least gave her audience a wave before she ran off as well. 

“I don’t know why you agreed to this.”

Aelin threw a glance over her shoulder and saw Aedion scowling in Rowan’s direction. Out of everyone Aedion had been the most vocal and oppositional to Rowan attending today. Even though Aelin had explained the reasoning for it multiple times and with her cousin being as stubborn as she was, refused to alter his opinion. 

“It’s my business, not yours,” Aelin snapped. 

“Sure, whatever,” Aedion dropped Ruben’s lunchbox on the table and then started walking away. 

“Wait, where are you going?” Aelin had her suspicions. 

Aedion turned still, stepping backward, a devilish smile on his face. “I’m just going to have a little chat.”

~~~~~

One thing Rowan didn’t want to do was force the interaction, so his father kept him company while he kept his distance from the rest of the party. He was wishing Lorcan had come, but it was only Elide with their two boys. It would just make the whole situation a whole less awkward with someone who was willing to talk to him. Rowan was definitely the outsider and he wasn’t going to push his luck. He also didn’t miss the baleful glares that Aedion was sending his way. 

“He’s her cousin, right?” His father asked and Rowan nodded. “Big brother is more like.”

“They’ve been close since they were kids,” Rowan explained.

Evander hummed something, then sat down on a nearby bench. “Looks like your mother is working her magic.”

Rowan turned, his breath catching at the sight of his mother leading his daughter by the hand—coming right for them. Elspeth was nearly bouncing with uncontained energy. Her grandmother was saying something and the toddler listened with rapt attention. Rowan was so focused on Elspeth that she didn’t notice at first that Fenrys was with them, keeping his distance but looking very much the protective Uncle. It seemed Aelin had sent a bodyguard along, Rowan wasn’t sure if he should be insulted or impressed. They all stopped a healthy distance away 

“Elsie, I want to meet someone,” Iris said. “This is my son Rowan, I think you’ve seen him around.”

Elspeth looked in between the two adults, before she settled on him and gave Rowan a wide smile. “Hi, hi, Ro-yen.”

His heart flipped in his chest to hear her try and pronounce his name in her sweet little voice. Rowan couched down so that he could see her better. “Hi, Elsie. It’s a pleasure to meet you. Officially.” 

Elspeth laughed, hugging Iris’ leg. Rowan couldn’t help his own smile at the toddler’s vivaciousness. 

She babbled something too fast for Rowan to follow along, so he just nodded instead. The moment they were having was broken by Korbin running over. “Elsie come play. Rue will catch you on the slide.”

“Yeah!” Elspeth took the hand Korbin offered, but she turned back to wave, “Bye! Bye!”

Iris gave Elspeth a little wave as Rowan stood, she said to anyone that would listen, “She’s such a darling.”

Fenrys politely excused himself. “I’ll head back.”

With nothing else to do, Rowan sat down on a bench to give his parents a break from babysitting him, telling them he’d be fine and to go chat. He started going through some emails for work when the unexpected happened. A shadow fell over him, and looking up Rowan saw Aedion standing in front of him. They hadn’t interacted since the day Rowan had arrived in Orynth and he didn’t expect this conversation to go any better than that one. The look on Aedion’s face had Rowan standing, just even the playing field.

“I don’t know why she's doing what she’s doing or what your game plan is here, but you have no idea what  Aelin has been through these past three years without you.” Aedion crossed his arms just to look more imposing. “So don’t get comfortable.”

“Your opinion is duly noted,” Rowan said, reminding himself he wasn’t here to start a fight, especially not with Aedion. Not when this whole charade was his first chance at real connection. He wanted to comment on how it actually hadn’t been his fault that he was excluded from Elspeth’s life, but that was an inflammatory comment. Luckily Rowan was saved by his phone ringing. “I have to take this.”

Aedion just nodded and let him be. The call turned out to be from a telemarketer but it still gave Rowan the out he needed. He sat on the bench again, seeing that his mother was with Elsie, the two of them searching in the grass for something. From where he sat, Rowan could hear her squeal of excitement and he couldn’t help but smile. He began wishing she’d come over to him again, or maybe he could go over to her, a few sentences wasn’t how he imagined this day going.

“Do you mind if I sit?” Elide asked, pulling him out of his thoughts. 

“Of course not,” Rowan replied, moving down the wooden bench to make room for her. She had her youngest with her, sleeping despite the sunlight and the noise. 

“Single guy at the park,” she clicked her tongue. “Not a good look.”

“Hey, I could be some single dad with no friends and one of those kids could be mine,” Rowan said wryly. “Hold on a second.”

Elide laughed but quickly stopped herself when it disturbed the baby in her arms. 

“I come in peace, I swear,” she said as she sat down. “I never thanked you properly for what you did for Lorcan after Eamon was born. It really helped us out. Life with a newborn isn’t easy and you throw a toddler into that…” she made an exasperated sound. “You made my life a lot easier.” 

“Don’t mention it,” Rowan said, and he meant it. He didn’t know what to do with that line of conversation. 

“Rowan, I also wanted to apologise. I was not nice to you when you arrived,” Elide said. 

Rowan shrugged. “You had a perfectly good reason not to.”

“Still… I don’t know.” Elide sighed. “This whole thing is a mess.”

With nothing to say, Rowan just nodded along. A silence stretched out, it wasn’t particularly awkward and he was grateful for whatever solidarity Elide was showing him right now. 

Out of nowhere she said, “Do you want to hold him?”

Rowan’s gaze snapped over to where Elide was gently gesturing to her son. A bubble of nervousness rose in him, he hadn’t really ever held a baby before, not since he was younger and his little cousins had been placed on his lap. But regardless of all that, Rowan found himself wanting to.

“Yeah, if that's okay,” he said lamely. 

Elide in all her wisdom read every bit of nervousness he had and smiled. “I’ll help you.”

She stood so that she could rest the baby in Rowan’s arms easier. Once he had a firm grip on Eamon, Elide gently prompted his arms to where they needed to be for a more comfortable hold. The infant was cradled in his arms, looking so small and peaceful.

“Breathe, Rowan,” Elide chided. “That won’t wake him up.”

Rowan hadn't even noticed how shallow his breathing had gotten until Elide pointed it out. He did what he was told, letting out a large exhale. And she had been right, the baby didn’t wake up. Eamon wasn’t heavy, but it was a comforting sort of weight in Rowan’s arms. There was some clarity and peace that came from holding a baby that he had been totally ignorant of. 

“Ro-yen!” 

That little voice almost startled him, and Rowan might have jumped if not for his determination not to wake Eamon. Elspeth was running for him cutting across the grass and the concrete path. 

“Hey there,” Rowan said. “What are you doing Elspeth?”

Behind her, his mothering was following, just a bit slower than a rambunctious toddler. 

“I have a thing,” Elspeth declared. Then she noticed the baby in Rowan’s arms. “Oh, baby.”

So gently, she patted Eamon’s dark hair.

“Here, I’ll leave you to it,” Elide said, taking the baby back and leaving him and Elspeth alone. 

Elspeth looked up at him, green eyes shining as she smiled. “I have a thing.”

She climbed up onto the bench next to him, and even though Rowan was compelled to help her he didn’t. In the end she managed absolutely fine on her own. Now, Rowan could only watch as she reached out, picking up his hand from where it had rested on his knee. He let her pry his fingers open and put a small white flower in the middle of his palm. Elspeth’s tiny hand rested on his wrist, her finger contracting to hold him better. Rowan was still as anything, like the smallest movement might scare her away. 

“For you,” Elspeth declared. 

“Thank you,” Rowan said, still not moving a muscle. “It’s beautiful.”

“Like you!” she said, sitting back on her knees. “Mama say that everyone is beautiful.”

“Yeah,” was the only reply Rowan could come up with. 

“Just so you know,” his mother said, having finally caught up. “I in no way shape or form encouraged this.”

That stunned Rowan even further. 

“Iris is my friend,” Elspeth said. “You can be my friend too, Ro-yen.”

With that simple and heartfelt declaration Elspeth was off, back to chasing Korbin around the playground. Rowan looked down at the flower in his hand, not wanting to lose it he pulled out his wallet and slipped it inside. 

“That went well,” Iris said, smiling after her granddaughter. Rowan didn’t have the words to reply, he just nodded. Noticing his pensive state, his mother offered, “Time to go?”

Rowan gave an awkward general goodbye to the overall group, not noticing who returned it. Elspeth gave him an enthusiastic wave however from the top of the slide and he returned it. On the drive back to the hotel his parents were staying in, Rowan managed to keep up small talk all the way up to saying goodbye. He blacked all feeling until he was back in his apartment, thankfully not running into anyone else that might live in the building. 

Once inside, a myriad of feelings hit him. He could still feel the phantom touch of Elspeth touching him, like his brain was determined to remember it, to hold onto that feeling as long as he could. Rowan could also the remember the feeling of Eamon in his arms, and he began to wonder if she had felt like that. He would never know, he never got the chance to know her when he was that small.

Rowan braced his hands on the kitchen counter, barely remembering how he got there, as it felt like his chest was caving in. Today had been a tiny glimpse of what he had missed, of a little life he hadn’t had the privilege to be a part of. Something inside him longed for it, and he wasn’t afraid to admit how much that terrified him. 

Questions flooded him, close to overwhelming him. Why hadn’t Aelin told him? Why hadn’t she reached out and let him be a part of this? Why couldn’t he shake the rage that was welling inside him?

A fist slammed on the counter and Rowan hissed at the pain. It offered him some clarity enough to realise it had been him. He had been an absolute bastard, and the fallout may not have been entirely his fault but he shared the majority of it. Enough was enough, some twisted lines of fate had given Rowan this opportunity and he wasn’t about to waste his second chance.

It was time that he proved himself.

~~~~~

Tags: @fucking-winchester-trash​ // @literary-licorice​ // @galyxsy // @tangledraysofsunshine​ // @highqueenofelfhame​ // @3am-reading​ // @soup-that-is-too-hawt​ // @aelinfire-bringer // @nalgenewhore​ // @highladyofthesith // @http-itsrebecca​ // @sleep-and-books​ // @alifletcher2012​ // @westofmoon​ // @sleeping-and-books​ // @ttakeitbacknoww​ // @armixers-unite // @mariamuses​ // @chocolate-eating-bitch-queen​ // @velarian-trash​ // @queenofxhearts​ // @heroesofterrasen​ // @highladyofstoriesandmusic​ // @empire-of-wildfire​ // @camerooonchiu​ // @crackedship​ // @lowhangingtreebranches // @over300books​ // @yourwhisperingshadows​ // @thesirenwashere​ // @tswaney17​ // @impossiblescissorspeachpaper​ // @cat5313​ // @judelovescardan​ // @flowerspringsea​ // @chaoticskyy​ // @the-regal-warrior​ // @fanfictrash3000​ // @blueeyes425​ // @starseternalnighttriumphant​ // @bamchickawowow​ // @thehuntressofmoon // @giorgia-the-trashpanda​ // @flora-and-fae​ // @thereaderandfangirl​ // @illyrian-bookworm​ // @chemicha​ // @meltalgel // @gay-book-nerd​ // @that-odd-puzzle-piece​ // @i-love-all-books // @in-love-with-caramel-macchiato​ // @girl-who-reads-the-books // @hizqueen4life​ // @the-third-me​ // @1islessthan3books​ // @bestmelle​ // @cursebreaker29​ // @b00kworm​ // @superspiritfestival​ // @aesthetics-11​ // @maastrash​ // @mynewdreamwasyou​ // @the-last-apprentice​ // @charincharge​ // @firestarsandseneschals​   // @scarznstars​ // @absolute-dissapointment // @thesurielships​ // @df3ndyr​ // @trinitybailey2003 //   @gwynethhberdara   // @booknerdproblems​ // @empress-ofbloodshed​ // @queenophelia​ // @petrichara​ // @grandma-noob-lord​ // @silentquartz​ // @curlyredqueen06 // @littleboxofthunder​ // @sjmships​ // @sanakapoor​ // @keshavomit​ // @magicalunicorngypsy​ // @wanderingjpg​ // @wordsafterhours​ // @but-she-was-aelin-galathynius // @yesdreamblog​ // @motherofdragons155​ // @elriel4life​ // @aelin-is-my-heart​ // @ireallyshouldsleeprn​ // @crystalfireandblazingice // @court-of-glass​ // @larisssss​ // @sevenfreckles-for-sevenloves // @rolltide7​ // @scandinavianromantic // @tillyrubes10​ // @starwarsslytherin // @minaidss // @mu-si-ca-l​ // @hsilberfarb​ // @aelin-queen-of-terrasen​ // @alyx801​ // @amandaswallowtail​ // @louiseleblancdiggory​ // @abookishfreak // @paytin77​ // @jesstargaryenqueen​ // @anntheintrovert​ // @starbornvalkyrie​   // @loudphantomdragon​ // @woollycat22 // @claralady // @perseusannabeth​ // @fangirlprincess09​ // @maddymelv // @sierrareads​ // @emilyoftheshadows​ // @heirofthrnightcourt004 // @azymondias05​ // @booksbqueen // @rowanwhitethornisbae​ // @rabodocardan // @acciowests​ // @danibutterr​ // wanderingjpg // @more-espresso-less-depresso-xx // @jlinez // @lysandra-ghost-leopard​ // @mis-lil-red​ // @midnightdreamersthings // @swankii-art-teacher​ //  @rowaelinismyotp​ // @pullnpeeltwizzlers​ // @anne-reads // @jadeaffliction​ // @gracie-rosee​ // @elriel4life​ // @rowaelinrambling​ // @tothestarswholistentodreamers // @thenerdandfandoms // @castielspelvis​ // @vanzetanze​ // @thegreyj​ // @lizzyfirebringer // @endlessdaydream​ // @anidealiveson​ // @magnifique1807​ // @charlizeed​ // @highlady-brittney​ // @story-scribbler​ // @linguine-panini // @pastasiren​ // @ghostlyrose2 // @themoonthestarsthesuriel // @endlessdaydream​ //   @feysand-loml​  // @backtobl4ck​  // @live-the-fangirl-life​ // @whimsicallyreading​ // @goddess-aelin​ // @khildreth​ // @s-uppertime​

[plaindangan]

Miss Yukizone? I've heard Makoto likes to stop by after class for extra tutoring? Though I heard somewhere you do private special tutoring, where there's spanking, breastmilk and a duncecap?

I've seen not only Makoto, but Komaru, Seiko, Chihiro and even Sonia leave the room in a dazed stupor! Care to comment?

-Plappu, investigative student, recovering from the Tojo incident

Disclaimer: R18 material! If not to your liking then please do not view!

“Hm? You seem pretty ‘interested’ in what my private tutoring has to offer, huh? Then…why don’t you come take a look. Stick a while and you might even want to sign up~” 

As one enters her room, the first thing you noticed was that Chisa was sitting on her desk. Not only that, her enormous boobs were exposed, and one was being eagerly drank from by a very thirsty Chihiro. Of course, that wasn’t the only thing to take note of. After all, it’d be hard not to notice Chisa also using her hand to jerk off Chihiro’s hung programmer cock too!!

“So, as you can see, you have Chihiro enjoying his well earned reward for getting every question right from tutoring today. A nice, long, nutritious drink from Mom-erm…Mrs. Yukizome’s own boobs!! A perfect afternoon snack and a great way to take some of my own load off as well…and speaking of loads!! For being such a good boy in responding to my tutoring, he gets to have nice, hard, stiffy, tugged and tugged and tugged until-ohhhh!!! Well, until that happens~” Chisa giggled as Chihiro came hard from the teasing that she was doing.

“Ms. Y-yukizome…” Oh? Turning her head, Chisa saw Seiko standing uncomfortably in front of her. With quite the erection at her skirt to boot!! 

“Oh my, I can’t forget the second student to do well either! While she can’t get my milkies or best student cock treatment, I can at least help take care of her ‘issues’ in a jiffy!” Chisa jiggled and beckoned her closer. Placing a sleeping Chihiro off to the side, she placed Seiko over her lap…and inserted quite the lubed up finger into the pharmacist bottom. Moving around it gently and stimulating the geeky futa’s prostate.

 “Even if my hands are unavailable down there for her, I can still help her juuuuuuuust fine~” Chisa said, and as if one cue, the moaning, trembling pharmacist let out a cry before exploding white hot semen all over Chisa’s apron. 

“Good girl!~ Keep up the good work!!!!” Chisa said proudly, hugging Seiko as she bashfully stood to her feet to allow Chisa to carry on the inspection.

“But…there will always be students who can’t quite perform, optimally. Not yet, at least. And with those I need to bring out some good discipline…isn’t that right? Makoto? Komaru?”

Both of the Naegi siblings were currently bent over desks…in varying degrees of undress. For Makoto, he was on the left, legs spread apart and cock leaking directly into a bucket. His butt was splotched red with the word ‘DU’ and ‘NCE’ on his left & right, ass cheek respectively. To top it off, he had a bib orange dildo rammed down his ass, as well. Naturally, he was a blushing mess that was panting quite a bit. 

“This naughty boy failed half of his answers this session, so I had to punish him. Right, Makoto?” Smack! Smack!! Two strikes to his big ruby booty had him moan ever so girlishly before cumming a bit again. He nodded feverishly to Chisa. “Y-y-yes, maa’aaaaaaaam!!” he said.

“Good boy! Though, Makoto is still way better than his sister who got nearly every question wrong! What do you have to say for yourself…Komaru~” Komaru was bent over on the right desk and it was clear Chisa had a field day with her - if the fact she had a ball gag in her mouth didn’t tip you off. She was stripped down to just her striped bra and legs spread similar to Makoto. Though, unlike him, Chisa saw fit to place a mini-bath tub underneath her…which evidently was necessary given it was half-full. Similarly to Makoto, the word 'DUNCE’ was well spanked onto Komaru’s booty, alongside an actual dunce cap for good measure. In addition to all of this, Komaru also had to deal with not only two dildo’s back there (one in her ass, the other her pussy), but Chisa seeing fit to tie a vibrator right along her cock~

“Tsk, tsk, tsk. Such naughtiness needs loads and loads of correction. I hope this time you learned your lesson Komaru…right?~” SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! Swats, harder than Makoto’s, slapped against her chubby butt, causing a muffled Komaru to give her best moan before cumming hard into the tub again~

“That’s my girl! Oh, but, as you can imagine, this isn’t all the students I had for today. You see, unexpectedly, the last one actually failed all my mocks~ And we can’t have that now, can we?~” Chisa beckened you closer…to a side room?

Once it opened a blast of musky air would hit your nostrils and you would be very surprised at what you saw. Inside wasn’t really a classroom but a thick bed that had a naked Sonia Nevermind bent over it. She had a blindfold on, also was wearing a ball gag and was clutching the sheets in anticipation. Her phat royal ass swayed from side to side and you could see her erect cock grinding a bit against the sheets.

“When it comes to naughty brats who fail, only the strictest punishment must be taken!!” Chisa claimed and it was than that you noticed another thing. Of Chisa flipping up her own skirt, and hitting you with that stench by proxy. Of her musky, foot long cock, pointed straight and erect at Sonia’s royal hindquarters~

Before Sonia could really register what that smell was, Chisa had not only gripped her by her hips, but had penetrated her ass with her dick!!!

PLAPLAPLAPLAPLAPLAPLAPLAP!!!

SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!

It was a strong double act. Chisa’s ‘correctional cock’ was rapidly fucking Sonia’s tight ass thoroughly, and she following up with heavy slaps from her hand that had the princess’ tushy redden considerably. Between the fucking and the spanking, it had become too much for Sonia to bear, and you’d watch as with seemingly each thrust from Chisa into her bottom, Sonia was cumming hard into the sheets of the bed. Or on the floor!~ Depended on fate itself at this point.

And fate decreed Chisa would be fucking her for a straight fifteen minutes before finally cumming herself, filling Sonia’s ass with own dommy spunk that it overflowed and spilled out onto the floor when Chisa was all done. Not that Sonia mind the mess! She was too busy in her own afterglow and practically unconscious with pleasure. 

“Discipline complete!~ Study harder next time~” Chisa said, stamping Sonia’s ass with a giant black ‘F’ before turning around, looking at you slyly. Her cock was still oozing cum and a look at her balls still told you that she was very much not fulfilled yet.

“So…care to join my little tutoring sessions? I’m always willing to help my darling students in need! In fact…why don’t I give you a private session. Free of charge, of course!!!” As Chisa giggled and approached, you soon realized that you were in for a long tutoring ahead.

[gumnut-logic]

Scott glared at his brothers.

Virgil, John and Gordon stood in a line on the comms room hardwood floor all looking straight ahead as if they were in a military inspection. Which was particularly odd since only one of them had ever been in said military.

Hell, even his grandmother was ramrod straight next to them.

Scott was absolutely beside himself. Still dressed in his uniform, complete with its coating of mud, he had no doubt that his appearance was anything but reassuring to the brothers standing in front of him.

Not that he cared. This was beyond it all.

This was so ludicrous that it was hard to even suspect Gordon as the culprit.

Though he was still the most likely despite his arm being in a sling.

Scott eyed his fish brother. He had a scratch above one eyebrow that hadn’t been there when Scott left this morning.

But then a lot was different on Tracy Island since he left this morning.

The most obvious difference was the Thunderbird stuck at an angle where the pool was supposed to be.

His ‘bird was shining in the late afternoon light, her silver hull gleaming as she sat at a sixty-degree angle just beyond the balcony, her wings gouged into the concrete of the patio.

Virgil shifted where he stood on his crutches and Scott felt the briefest flash of guilt at making him stand there. His engineer brother had been grounded for the last week with a broken ankle, along with Gordon and his broken arm. Which is why Scott had been in Two today with the currently guilt free Alan.

His youngest brother stood off to one side, apparently caught between shock and relief that he wasn’t to blame.

“I’m waiting for an explanation.” For several things.

The room still reeked of burnt furnishings. Whatever had happened in the kitchen had left it black and under a haze of smoke that had infiltrated the villa.

As if to comment, John sneezed suddenly. His space brother sniffed and screwed up his face before he realised Scott was eyeing him. He, too, was standing on crutches, something he wasn’t doing this morning.

And still no-one said anything.

Not even Grandma, and honestly that was a kicker.

“Gordon-“

“What are you looking at me for?”

Scott shot him a flat stare. “History.”

“Hey, the last time I borrowed One, I brought her back in one piece.”

“Complete with Eau de Polecat!”

“That does not automatically put me at fault. Besides this was an emergency.”

Scott blinked. A little progress. “And?”

But Gordon clammed up and went back to staring at the portraits on the far side of the room, every bit the WASP Lieutenant Tracy he actually was.

Scott turned to John, his ever-faithful source of relevant information.

“J-“

“I’m sitting down.” His space brother turned and crutched his way past Scott and into the sunken lounge without another word.

Scott stared after him.

“Honey, are you feeling okay?” His grandmother followed John and began fussing over him and his leg, both completely ignoring Scott.

What the-?

“How. Did. This. Happen?!” Okay, so he might be yelling just a little, but the cause was sufficient. He turned to his trusted first. His best friend. His brother. His Virgil.

Said brother was looking rather pale. “Virgil?”

Sad, dark eyes looked up at him. “I wanted to make you popcorn.”

-o-o-o-

Virgil was frustrated. Virgil was always frustrated when he was grounded and today sported no reason to change that attitude.

Worse, he had had to watch Scott take his ‘bird out to a mudslide. His big brother was not a fan of flying Two, but since Virgil had a busted ankle and Gordon an equally busted arm, that was the deal today.

To top it all off, mudslides sucked big time and Scott and Alan would likely come home exhausted, especially since two of their brothers were currently unavailable to assist.

So, to help just that little bit, he had spent the last couple of hours hobbling around the kitchen slapping together something that could be considered a relaxing meal for that evening, vetoing any chance of Grandma getting into the kitchen and destroying stomach linings.

It helped that Grandma was in Wellington with Kayo.

To top it off, Virgil had put together an apple pie, Scott’s favourite. He had also made sure there was a bucket of triple chocolate ice cream in the freezer for Alan – one that he had stashed away for emergencies just like this.

The last thing on his list was to make some candy popcorn for the squirt and put some kernels aside ready for popping later so they would be nice and warm for the movie.

He was in the process of heating the oil when Gordon burst into the room as if out of nowhere.

Virgil dropped a spoon.

Damn sandshoes were silent.

“Hubert’s dying!”

“What?” His back creaked as he picked up the piece of cutlery.

“Hubert, the albatross that collided with the window and broke his wing.”

“What albatross?” The oil began to smoke a little so he turned the heat off. His Gordon radar was at full alert – this would likely take a while.

“Yesterday? Upstairs? How did you not hear that?” A blink. “Okay, it was five am. You don’t exist before ten, I’m sorry.” The sarcasm was dripping and a little caustic. “Regardless, Hubert has gone limp and I think he’s dying, Virg. Help me please.” The accompanying clasped hands, reminiscent of either prayers or vigorous begging, complete with a sling that wasn’t doing what it was supposed to, were a little over the top.

“Okay. Fine. Show me the patient.” He reached over and nudged the broken arm back into its sling while Gordon glared him.

“Hurry up.”

Virgil grabbed his crutches and followed Gordon to the stairs before darting sideways and thumbing the elevator doors open.

“Okay, fine, hop-a-long.” Gordon jumped down the last few steps and hurried into the elevator with Virgil.

He bounced on his heels the entire way to the infirmary level.

Virgil watched his agitation and realised that whatever was wrong with this bird, Gordon had invested himself in it, much like every other injured animal he had dragged home since he had learnt to walk.

Gordon ushered Virgil into the infirmary and to his horror, he found the limp sea bird lying on top of one of the beds. “Gordon, have you heard of hygiene?”

“It’s fine. The sheets are clean. He’s safe.”

Virgil stared at his brother for a split second before rolling his eyes.

But Gordon’s whine drew him into examining the bird, which, considering it was avian, did not comply with the human knowledge Virgil possessed.

“I don’t really know, Gords.” Virgil stabbed at the infirmary’s computer interface, interrogating the net for baseline vitals for an albatross. Hell, he didn’t even know which species.

“It’s a Gibson’s Albatross.” Gordon was stroking the unconscious bird gently with his fingers.

This was not the first time, nor was it likely to be the last time Virgil found himself in this situation, though the species did vary. As always, his answer was. “I’m sorry, Gordon. You need a qualified vet.”

“But I set his wing. He should be getting better.” Gordon’s age regressed around animals and tended to break Virgil’s heart in the process.

“I’m sorry, Gordon.”

“For goodness sake, we’re International Rescue!” The plea in his brother’s eyes stabbed right where it hurt.

But then those eyes widened and a light bulb went off above Gordon’s head.

Or it could have been a precursor for the migraine Virgil suddenly knew he was going to end up with.

“No, Gordon.”

“But he’s dying!” Gordon grabbed Virgil by the arm. “It’s our job to save lives.”

“How exactly are we going to get him to the mainland? Neither of us can fly.” Virgil wasn’t going to admit it, but the bird didn’t look like it was going to last long enough for another family member to make it home. “I’m sorry, Gordon.” He was already calculating how to cheer up his little brother.

“No!”

He sighed. It wasn’t as if he wanted the bird to die. Hell, if he was hail and healthy, he would have already put it on Tracy Two and be halfway to Auckland by now. But there was no way he was risking himself or his brother in a plane with a broken limb. Maybe Kayo might get back in time?

But then the inevitable happened. He should have seen it coming.

“We can take Thunderbird One!”

Virgil blinked. “What? No!” God, no, Scott would kill him.

“This is a life, Virgil! What makes a bird’s any less important than a human’s? It’s his life! we have endangered it, and now we aren’t doing anything to help save it? How is that fair?” Gordon’s fists were now clenched at his sides, the sling yet again ignored. Fiery carnelian glared at Virgil. “I can’t do it with my arm, but Thunderbird One doesn’t require feet to operate.” A flicker of his eyelids. “This is on you.”

Virgil stared at his little brother.

A glance at the limp bird on the bed.

Back to Gordon, ever so fiery and passionate.

Virgil reached down, uncurled Gordon’s fist and pulled the sling back into place.

Ten minutes later he found himself doing what he did every time this kind of situation happened.

Thunderbird One launched with Virgil at the helm and Gordon clutching a desperately ill albatross in the back seat.

-o-o-o-

Scott stared at his second eldest brother, the man with whom he trusted so much. Virgil had literally held Scott’s life in his hands on several occasions.

“You borrowed One to take an injured bird to the vet.”

Virgil shifted where he stood. “It was to save a life.”

Scott turned to the lounge and glared at John. “And you let him fly with a broken ankle?”

John returned the glare with equal strength. “Are you kidding me? This is Virgil we’re talking about. I thought One was safer in his hands than yours.”

“What?!”

“It’s not like he’s going to do anything stupid with your ‘bird, is he?”

There were no words, so Scott just gestured in the direction of the pool.

With both hands.

“Yeah, well, probabilities can’t predict everything.”

The flippant, non-answer went straight to Scott’s head and rattled around in there for a moment or two before he chose to file it for later or risk implosion. John was rubbing at his foot and Scott latched onto it to save his sanity. “How did you hurt yourself?”

“In case you haven’t noticed, the kitchen caught fire. Kayo had already been called out again and I was worried about Grandma.”

“And?”

“I tripped.”

“Over what?”

“My own feet! It’s not every day you see Thunderbird One get stuck in the pool!” John glared at Scott. “Cahelium on concrete is very loud.”

Scott stared at him, not willing to face the image those words inflicted on him.

“Why was the kitchen on fire?”

But then something Virgil had said popped into his mind. He couldn’t help it, he rubbed his face with his hand. “Grandma, why didn’t you wait for Virgil to get home?”

“He left the popcorn on the counter, dear, I was trying to help.” Grandma wasn’t looking at him. John’s leg appeared to need a good rub right at this very moment.

John was wincing.

But with that explained, Scott had no choice but to turn back to Virgil, who was still standing clinging to his crutches.

Why hadn’t he sat down? He was ever so very sorry looking and Scott’s heart melted at the edges.

“Virgil, what happened?”

Brown eyes slowly peered up at him.

God, did he really have to deploy that little brother expression. Thunderbird One was down for the count, stuck in the damned pool and the brother responsible wasn’t even letting him stay angry. Goddamnit! How does a thirty-year-old man regress to six-year-old like that? Those eyes were the same eyes Virgil deployed that time he crashed Scott’s bicycle.

As if in answer, something whacked Scott’s thigh.

Ow! “What the hell?”

Looking down he found an extremely large seagull with a bandaged wing glaring up at him. Their eyes met and it squawked.

Very loudly.

“Hubert! What are you doing down here?” And suddenly, there was a race on around the comms room, Gordon chasing the waddling bird as it methodically thumped everyone with its wings, took out a pot plant and to Scott’s horror, one of Dad’s souvenirs. Both toppled with a crash as Gordon continued to chase Hubert around the room.

Alan joined him a moment later.

Part of Scott wanted to yell the building down, but most of him just wanted to know how the hell his ‘bird had ended up stuck halfway into her launch bay.

So, he turned back to Virgil and asked again, perhaps a little louder over the ruckus as the stupid bird scrambled over John in its eagerness to torture everyone.

He approached his brother carefully and placed a hand on each arm. “Virg, what happened?”

“It was an accident. I’m sorry, Scott.”

“That much is obvious. What malfunctioned?”

Brown eyes were suddenly not looking at him.

“Virgil?”

His brother straightened a little. “You have too many damned levers.”

“What?”

He seemed to be saying that a lot today.

“I pushed the wrong lever, okay? It’s on the left on Two and One has it on the right and I yanked on it to slow and the wings deployed. Wrong lever, sorry, okay?”

Scott stared at Virgil, his jaw slowly dropping as his hands lost their grip on his brother and just hovered mid-air beside him. “You used the wrong lever?”

“Yeah, sorry, my bad.” Virgil was looking at his feet. “Can I sit down now?”

Scott’s mouth was still open and he had to force himself to close it. “Sure.” So his voice was a little bit higher than normal…

Virgil didn’t hesitate, clutching his crutches and hurriedly tapping his way over to the lounge.

Behind Scott there was a sudden crash and the sound of breaking glass as both Alan and a bird squawked at the same time.

Scott didn’t turn to look. He just stood staring at his ‘bird, still gleaming in the late afternoon sun, still sticking out of the pool.

His jaw may have dropped just a little again.

But nothing more was said.

-o-o-o-

[the-tripping-and-the-touching]

Landslide (series)

Part Five

Pairing: Josh x reader

Word Count: 4.8k

Summary: You've lost something in a hiking accident... are you prepared for it to come back?

Warnings: marijuana use

MASTERPOST

Playlist

The remaining days of July slipped by quickly despite the remnants of your summer plans being canceled and crossed out on your calendar. Josh had taken up the bulk of the work that went into it, calling hotels and friends to regretfully inform them of your unavailability.

It wasn’t that you didn’t feel up to traveling or going out, but he’d come to you a few days ago and explained Dr. Prescott likely didn’t want you leaving home for too long while you were still healing. And while you were ready to accept that as his only reason, the crack you’d been keeping your door open allowed you to hear him calling his mom that night, telling her that he was worried about not being able to keep an eye on you. That he had to be there for you. 

Still, concern from others doesn’t stave off boredom, and with your limited hours at the studio you found yourself wandering the house most days. You’d picked up embroidery again, tried your hand at crochet, and practiced every Wii sport. Even with an at home schedule that was packed with attempted hobbies and binge watches, you were bored, and grew restless. 

That restlessness grew and sprouted into today’s new hobby: scouring every inch of the house for something interesting. 

You’d started out in the kitchen. The shelf above your sink had caught your eye as you were finishing your cereal, so after you rinsed your bowl and dumped it in the sink, you pulled a chair over and stepped up on it. 

There wasn’t anything to be found except some dust bunnies and a poorly rolled joint. One of Josh’s early works, you were sure of it. You slipped it into the pocket of your sleep shorts and clambered down. Nothing was to be found on top of the fridge, so you pushed the chair back into its place at the table and began opening cupboards and digging through their contents. Mixing bowls, chipped plates, and old cookbooks stacked up around you without revealing a single secret to your curious mind. 

Defeated, you let out a huff of air as you set everything back in its place and picked yourself up off the ground. You were about to start looking around the living room when Josh’s door caught your eye. Or rather, the lack of it in its frame. He’d left his door open. 

Without a second thought, you headed in. It wasn’t necessarily a foreign action for you, if your memory served you correctly, you’d been looking through his room since the day the two of you had moved in. Typically it was in search of sweaters to borrow or art supplies he’d stolen, but going through his stuff now didn’t really feel like crossing line, especially after you’d caught him rummaging through your drawers the day after you’d returned. You reminded yourself to bring that up to him as you roamed around the dimly lit space. 

Surprisingly, Josh had always kept his room relatively clean. That was in sharp contrast to his younger brothers, who he had admitted he was relieved to move away from if not for that reason alone. But that also meant there wasn’t much to rummage through… until you remembered his closet.

Josh’s closet was larger than yours, a sacrifice you had been willing to make in favor of a larger bedroom that could accommodate all of your things. Now, you silently thanked yourself for making that sacrifice as you stepped into it, glancing over each of the stuffed shelves and practically buzzing with intrigue. 

Your fingers danced over the shelves, finally choosing one and reaching up to grab a box on top of it. It was labeled with the number 14, and was stuffed full of cards. Upon inspection, you found that they were every birthday card he’d received for his fourteenth birthday, kept in pristine condition save for the cash and gift cards that were clearly missing from their designated spots. 

Most of the boxes were exactly like that one, cards or memories from one occasion or another that he’d cataloged and stacked on top of each other. But every so often you would stumble across a different collection. Rather than tossed in boxes, these belongings were gently packed in clean folders that were carefully folded shut. 

The first folder you opened was from around two years ago, and upon opening it you found a small pen and ink piece that you’d done over the summer. Another held the first painting you’d completed for a high school class. Folder after folder, you soon came to realize that for years, Josh had been collecting your work. Your art. 

They were all neatly labeled, some including comments regarding the work’s theme or medium, or a specific memory they were attached to. They dated back to your early teens, right about when you’d grown into the habit of discarding art if you didn’t love it. At his request, you’d mostly just given the pieces to Josh if you hated them, but he even had ones that you’d tossed in the trash. 

You weren’t sure if he knew it, but he had pieces that had been created with the thought of only him in your head littered about his closet, and at that, a sort of ache filled you. Deep down you’d always ached to be understood by him the way you wanted, but the reality of the situation was so much more overwhelming in comparison. He understood you the way you really were. In a world of people who would only ever know pieces of you, he knew who you were. 

The scribbled notes on themes, the collection, the soft indents left from times he’d evidently pored over the work. Josh knew you. Beyond expectation, beyond facade. Josh knew you. 

A heaviness in your chest told you it was time to get out of his things, but it didn’t stop you from grabbing a heavy looking book before you left. You were pleasantly surprised when you found it to be a photo album, detailing the entirety of your shared college experience. Tucking it under your arm, you brought the book out to the living room and settled into the couch. You propped it up on your legs as you turned a show on for background noise. 

As you flicked through it, drinking in the photos and descriptions that appeared to be written by both you and Josh, you found that your neurological predicament seemed to be solving itself rather quickly. 

By the time Josh arrived back home that afternoon you’d regained everything except around a month before your accident, and the progress was enough to make him wrap you up in his arms and spin yourselves around until he got dizzy. 

“Prescott’s gonna be so happy when we tell her.” He said through a beaming smile once he finally let go of you. 

“When exactly are we telling her?” You had technically known you were due for a visit to the hospital now that you’d had time to be among the artifacts of your life, but you hadn’t gotten any phone calls or other reminders, so the knowledge had been sitting at the back of your mind until now. 

“Well you’ve got your appointment tomorrow. We could call now but I don’t really see the point in that.” You shrugged indifferently when he looked to you for your thoughts, so he turned to the kitchen to scrounge something up for dinner. “10 tomorrow, so don’t plan on sleeping in too late. Now do we feel like ramen or toast tonight?”

You padded after him, peering over his shoulder at your options. “How about soup and grilled cheese?” The wind outside had been carrying a chill for days, and the atmosphere inside hadn’t been much warmer, despite how things were going in this moment. 

“Sounds perfect. Nice and cozy.” You smiled at his word choice, suddenly wishing you were back to the point where you could sleep in bed together. Ignoring the pangs of your heartache and the phantom warmth of your limbs tangled with his, you set out to gather a cutting board and pan, having reacquainted yourself with the kitchen cupboards that morning. 

The hospital visit the following morning was a simple affair. You’d arrived with a few minutes to spare, giving you time to flip through home magazines and judge the taste of the designers with Josh before Dr. Prescott called you into her office. 

“So, how are we doing with our retrieval mission?” She smiled warmly as she flipped through your charts and scans. 

“Really, really well actually. I think I’ve got most of it back.” There was a proud tone to your voice as you spoke to your physician. 

“Most?” She peered up at you as her hands stilled.

“Well, yeah. I think there are a few small gaps throughout the past couple years. And then I can’t remember really any of the month before the landslide,” the quizzical expression she was wearing urged you to continue, “but my parents are sending up a box of some of my things, some photographs and whatnot, so I’m hoping that’ll fill the rest in.”

Your fingers fidgeted as she took a moment to interpret the information you’d given her. “Alright, well I think we’ll take one more scan today, and then after that package arrives I’d like for you to give me a call. If this scan comes out clean and the bulk of your memory is recovered after you look through that box, I can’t see a reason why I’d need to call you back in.”

The scan went quickly and without issue, so she checked the scar above your ear one last time before clearing you and sending you and Josh out to the front desk with a nurse. 

After you’d signed every piece of paperwork you’d been handed, Josh drove the two of you home from the hospital once more. 

You’d noticed a shift in his demeanor at the hospital, but it was especially clear now that he was still maintaining a careful distance. While he made his way to his room, you decided to stay in the front of the house to brainstorm ways to open him back up. Each of your ideas came with excitement and went leaving a discouraging taste in your mouth. 

That’s how you spent the rest of the daylight, thinking of and discarding ideas as you rotated about the living room, watching as Josh left for and returned from work. Once the sun had set and the ideas had run dry, you stood from your place at the bay window and stretched your body, looking for your next move.

It wasn’t until you’d just about given up and headed to your room that the perfect opportunity presented itself to you. There on the floor next to your closet laid the sleep shorts you’d been wearing the morning before, and if memory served (which it just about always did by now), there was a poorly rolled joint in the right pocket. 

Rather than fish it out now, you undressed and changed back into them, pulling on your most comfortable shirt, a Stevie Nicks tee from the folded mass of band shirts you rotated through. Now that you were comfortable, you made your way back to the living room and turned the record player on. Selecting Fleetwood Mac’s self titled album from the communal crate, you pulled it from its sleeve and set the needle down on it. 

You took your time setting the living room up, pulling blankets and pillows from the basket beside the couch and arranging them into a nest atop the couch cushions for you and Josh. Leaving the overhead lights off, you flicked the lamp standing on the table on to its dimmest setting and went to the kitchen to fill water bottles for the both of you. 

Josh was prone to cottonmouth, a fact that he seemed embarrassed of the first time the two of you had smoked together. Since, you’d taken it upon yourself to provide water each time and sip it at the same pace he did. 

Rhiannon began with its familiar notes as you took a deep breath and headed back to Josh’s room. After lightly knocking on his door a few times, you pushed it open to find him sitting on one of his floor pillows, propped up on his footboard, book in hand. 

“What’s going on?” He peered up at you with soft eyes and a sweetly inquisitive look, quietly snapping his book shut. 

“I need you out in the living room.” When he made no moves to get up, you walked over to him and extended a hand. He hesitated a moment before latching onto your wrist with his fingers and pulling himself up inches away from your face. 

“Could it have anything to do with the music choice this evening?” He didn’t release your wrist, and you didn’t back up. There you two stood, practically breathing into each other’s mouths, the words ‘taken by the sky’ drifting through the open doorway and wrapping themselves around this moment in your mind. 

“Maybe. But you’ll have to leave your cave to find out.” You finally took a step back, turning on your heel and exiting back to the set up in the living room. There were a few seconds of hesitation before you heard his steps picking up right behind you. 

You directed him to sit on the couch as you grabbed a lighter from a basket by the fridge, then crossed the entryway to join him. He sat with his back against the corner, his left leg tucked under his right and his eyes tracking your every move as you took your own spot next to him. 

Remembering the water bottles sitting to the left of you on the table behind the couch, you grabbed them, handing one to Josh and keeping the other tucked by your side. Shifting to completely face him, crossing your legs under themselves, you plucked the joint from your pocket. 

An abrupt laugh erupted from Josh when he saw it, the noise filling the air and adding to the warm atmosphere that now enveloped you. “Now I think we both know you’re better at rolling than that.” His grin was so self assured that you could hardly wait for him to stop speaking to drop the truth on him.

“We do know that. So that would narrow the only possible creator of this monstrosity down to…” you leaned in, elbows landing on your knees as he involuntarily seemed to inch his face closer as well, “you.” 

The look of feigned disgust on his face made you sit back up, tipping your head back as you laughed. “Well, I guess we should find out if it smokes as bad as it looks.” He grabbed a blanket that had fallen to the ground and covered your laps with it, his knuckles dragging over your bare thighs as he placed half of it atop you. 

A ritual between you two had formed some years ago back in high school when you’d had to pool your money together for weed and sneak out to the garage to smoke. Each of you would lean in closely as you took the first hit. When you let it out, he would breathe in what smoke he could before it drifted out into the open air before taking the joint from between your fingers and starting the process again with him as lead. 

It wasn’t necessary anymore, now that your supply wasn’t limited to what his dealer had on hand for your budget and there weren’t any parents present to make surprise appearances, but the way you both tended to get touchy while high seemed reason enough to carry on with tradition. 

You placed the tip between your lips gently, waiting for Josh as he fucked around with the lighter until a flame appeared. He hesitated a moment, biting his cheek as he looked to the fire at his fingertips. 

“What is it?” you mumbled through partially closed lips.

“Isn’t it, smoking I mean, isn’t it bad for your memory? Like what if this makes your condition worse?” The flame persisted, his thumb still resting in its place to continue providing it with life. 

“Prescott cleared me, and I’ve, like, all of it back. There’s no condition to make worse.” You weren’t your most eloquent, but that was just the effect of your desperation. If this didn’t work, you weren’t sure how you could ever get him back to the level of openness he was at before the accident. 

“Yeah. Yeah you’re right, I’m just being stupid.” He raised the lighter to the end of the joint, watching as the flame took and the cherry began to burn brightly in the dim lighting. Your eyes stayed on him as you drew in your first hit. 

His eyes darted down your lips as you leaned in closer to exhale. They closed as he inhaled as quickly as he could, then opened them as he reached for the joint that you were holding between your fingers. 

“You’re not being stupid. It’s cute how much you still care about me.” A soft giggle escaped you as you watched him blush and take a breath before bringing the joint up to his lips, gently shaking his head with a smile.

What little smoke was left in the air dissipated as he took his first real hit. He could always hold it in a few seconds longer than you, a fact he made sure to brag about as often as possible. In fact, you had already begun to anticipate it from the time you were filling the water bottles earlier. 

When he finally blew the smoke out of his lungs and towards your waiting lips, you accepted it happily. “Sorry for the long wait, didn’t mean to keep you in suspense for so long.” There it was. You choked on your own laugh, coughing as you doubled over, forehead landing on his shoulder. You let it rest there as you felt his warmth. 

Josh always got extra warm when he was high, a perfect match for the way you tended to get cuddly. “As heinous as the presentation is, this shit is good, sit up before I have to break our pattern baby.” The pet name jolted you back to awareness, making you pick your head up and take the joint from him, a different type of warmth finding its way to your cheeks. 

You were typically a four hit type of person, especially with the little game the two of you played, so by the time it got back to you for your fourth turn you were getting the ashtray from your coffee table ready for when Josh was ready to quit. 

As the smoke swirled around in your lungs, you caught sight of Josh’s lips separating themselves in preparation for you. In a moment of impulse, you stamped the joint out and used your newly free hand to cup his jaw and bring his mouth just inches from yours. His hands found their places on your hips as you closed your eyes and exhaled directly into his lips, listening to the sound of his staggered inhaling paired with the fading instrumentals of Crystal. 

Neither of you moved as the track finished in its silence, except for the minute movement it took to rest your foreheads together and the occasional tensing of his fingertips against the soft fabric covering your plush skin. His warmth combined with the fuzziness you were now engulfed in seemed to be enough to keep you in that position forever. The sound of his light, shaky breaths told you how much he had to have been blushing, and you were suddenly thankful that the close proximity didn’t allow him to see the rosiness of your own cheeks. 

But the moment the piano of Say You Love Me hit your ears you were sitting up again, setting the ashtray on the table and springing up from the couch. Your high sent a warm buzz through your body, making you laugh as you held your hand out to Josh, practically glowing with excitement as you demanded, “Dance with me.” He opened his mouth to protest, but couldn’t get a single word in before you were pulling him up and explaining, “This is one of my favorite songs!”

You dragged him stumbling to the open expanse that was your entryway, starting to sing along as the words began echoing through your front room. Josh was never much of a dancer. Well, much of a good dancer. He loved to ‘dance’, but if you were being honest you may be the only person alive who actually enjoys watching it. 

Due to that, no matter your personal ability you did end up with the title of better dancer. So naturally, you began to lead him in the movements you were coming up with on the fly, grabbing his hands and moving around like a pair of marionettes with twisted strings. 

Giggles erupted from your chest when he began singing along with you to the chorus, lifting his arm above you and prompting you to spin into him. That night it seemed like the two of you couldn't keep your faces a friendly distance apart for your lives. Bubbly laughs were shared between you as your hands returned to each other, fingers lacing together as your shoulders shimmied in unison.

His cheeks had turned pink a while ago from the weed, and the way they shone in the dim light made him so… inviting. You untangled your fingers from his and wrapped your arms around his shoulders, holding him tight as you swayed with him. 

“This isn’t exactly matching the tempo here,” he pulled his face away from you, trying his best to make his words clear, “let me set the pace.” Before you could protest, your hand was in his as his other arm snaked around your waist, leading you in fast waltz-like movements around your living area. He spun you again, laughing as your footing faltered and he had to catch you in his arms. 

In a moment of drug-induced weakness, you reached your knuckles up to his cheekbone, watching the way it glowed in the light. The bruise that had made such a prominent mark there was almost gone, probably unnoticeable if you hadn’t been staring at it since the accident. You could feel his breathing pause as you made contact. 

“Breathe.” You gave a simple command as you reached your fingers further, trailing into his curls, and found your footing again. “It’s important to breathe when we’re engaging in such, such…” the word wouldn’t come to your buzzing mind, so you chose to forgo it entirely, “something physical activity.” 

“Something physical activity?” Josh looked at you with his eyebrows raised, a smirk creeping up on his lips. 

“Shut. Up.” Your eyes opened widely, but the moment you made eye contact with Josh you were both doubled over with laughter, holding on to each other to stay upright. The sound of the song finally crept back into your mind, and you jolted up at the words. 

You started to shuffle as the third verse started. 

Baby, baby, hope you’re gonna stay away

Pushing the air, you backed up from Josh in smooth movements, laughing as he slowly stood up straight again. 

‘Cause I’m getting weaker, weaker every day

A hand raised to your forehead in mock exasperation, you tried to slowly sink to your knees, but ended up just falling on the floor. 

I guess I’m not as strong as I used to be

Josh ran over to you, getting on his own knees and scooping your head into his arm. 

And if you use me again it’ll be the end of me

After you both took a few seconds to laugh, he started to help you up. The feeling of him, his arms, it had never been foreign, and still wasn’t, but tonight there was something different in the air. And it wasn’t just smoke. 

He wrapped your arms around the back of his neck as he started to stand you both up, holding you closely by the waist as you got back on your feet. His hands held your arms and your chin hooked around his shoulder until you were both standing steadily. As you pulled away from him, your faces turned towards each other, brushing your noses together. 

A hazy feeling found its way to your head at the contact, confusing you further in your already disoriented state. His fingers tightened around your biceps for a moment before he let go and pulled away, quickly stepping away towards the kitchen. 

You stood still for a few seconds, staring at nothing in particular, listening to the song as it continued and the soft padding of his feet on the hardwood floor. Slightly swaying on your feet, you tried to maintain your balance as best you could while the feeling of uncertainty washed over you. 

Almost involuntarily, as if your body had been put on autopilot, you stepped slowly over to the couch, falling back down into the position you had assumed previously, before almost kissing Josh had fucked with you so thoroughly that you could hardly stand. The rummaging of plastic was discordant with the end of the song you loved so much as you sat on the couch, spacing out at the wall as your mind swirled. 

The familiar fingerpicking of the next song picked up as Josh closed the cupboard and started to make his way back to the living room. It was that stage of your high where you got retrospective and philosophical, and the current state of your relationship paired with the song playing around you wasn’t helping to fix that. 

“I uh, I got hungry.” Josh flopped down on the couch next to you, snacks spilling down onto the blanket the two of you had been under together just a few minutes ago. The noise was enough to snap you back to reality, making your head turn towards him and the pile of junk he’d gathered as an avoidance technique. 

“I can see that.” You look up at him with a small smile, mixed feelings rushing through you and leaving your brain with the feeling of actual waves crashing over it. “Do you…” it wasn’t easy, trying to find the words for the question you had for him. Even when you were sober, it wasn’t easy. “Do you have anything else that you want to tell me about what led up to the accident?”

A look that seemed to be a mix between fear and shock washed over him. “What do you… do you remember something else? Do you have something new you need, uh, you need clarity on?” He swallowed. Hard. 

“No I… I was just wondering. I feel like something is really missing from me.” You took Josh’s hands and looked into his eyes before continuing. “Is there something you’re keeping from me?” 

“Why would you ask me that? Do you really think I would keep something from you?” He didn’t seem mad, just confused, as he removed his hands from yours. He ripped open a box of Cheez-Its, and though you hadn’t gotten an answer, he seemed to forget that you had asked a question at all. 

You turned away, dissatisfied with the turn the evening had taken. 

Well I’ve been afraid of changin’ 

‘Cause I’ve built my life around you

Chancing a peek back at him, you notice him staring at you before ripping his eyes away. 

“What?” You were still in a deep haze, pulling your knees up to your chest and leaning against the back of the couch as you turned to face him again. 

He finished chewing, then seemed to mull over his answer further. “I wish I could do more. To help you. It feels like, hopeless, kind of. Just the last of it, getting it back. Like it won’t happen, and I can’t help.” His tongue ran over his teeth as he finished trying to get his point across. 

“Yeah, it sucks. But maybe… maybe it’s okay. Like, hey, I have everything else. What’s a few weeks?” You give him a small smile, your eyes growing heavy as the song goes on. After a moment of deliberation, he swiped the snacks to the floor and extended his arms towards you. 

With more than a bit of effort, you pushed yourself over into him, tucking into his side and resting your head on his shoulder as his arms wrapped around you. The two of you sat in comfortable silence, letting the song echo through the room. After a moment, he agreed, “You’re right. It’s only a few weeks. What’ll it hurt?” 

“I can’t imagine what it could hurt.” You sigh as you lean further into him, “I can’t imagine.”

[freezedriedmeals]

Disaster Preparedness Food: Essential Tips for Survival and Peace of Mind!

Being prepared for a disaster means ensuring you have access to basic necessities, and food is among the most critical. Disruptions from natural disasters, power outages, or other emergencies can cut off access to grocery stores and fresh supplies. Disaster preparedness food provides the nutrition and energy needed to sustain you and your family until normal conditions are restored.

When selecting food for disaster preparedness, it’s crucial to prioritize shelf-stable items. These foods can endure long periods of storage without spoiling. Non-perishable options such as canned goods, dried grains, and freeze-dried meals are ideal. Opt for a variety of items that offer a balanced mix of carbohydrates, proteins, fats, and essential vitamins. Including high-calorie options ensures your energy needs are met, especially during physically demanding situations.

Storage plays a vital role in maintaining the quality of your food supply. Keep your emergency food in a cool, dry place away from direct sunlight. Moisture and heat can quickly degrade food, reducing its shelf life. Airtight containers, vacuum-sealed bags, and Mylar pouches with oxygen absorbers are excellent for protecting your stockpile from pests and environmental factors.

For a well-rounded plan, include food that requires minimal preparation. During emergencies, cooking facilities may be unavailable, so ready-to-eat items like canned soups, stews, and energy bars are highly convenient. If you have access to water and heating methods, freeze-dried meals and instant noodles are lightweight, easy-to-prepare options that can provide variety to your diet.

Don’t forget about water. Many dehydrated or freeze-dried foods require water for rehydration, so maintaining an adequate supply of clean drinking water is essential. Consider including a water purification system, such as filters or tablets, to ensure you have access to potable water for both drinking and food preparation.

Special dietary needs should also be accounted for in your disaster preparedness plan. Ensure your stockpile includes food suitable for anyone with allergies, medical conditions, or specific dietary restrictions in your household. Similarly, if you have pets, remember to store enough pet food to last through the emergency.

Regularly rotate your food supply to keep it fresh. Check expiration dates and replace items before they spoil. Developing a schedule for inspecting and updating your emergency food supply can prevent waste and ensure you’re always prepared.

In addition to food, it’s helpful to include basic cooking tools, utensils, and a manual can opener in your emergency kit. Portable stoves or fire-starting tools can make a significant difference in your ability to prepare hot meals during an emergency.

Disaster preparedness food isn’t just about survival; it’s about peace of mind. Knowing you have a reliable food supply ensures you’re ready to face unexpected situations with confidence. Start small, build gradually, and ensure your stockpile reflects the needs and preferences of your household. Preparedness today could make all the difference tomorrow.

[ibijau]

How to Woo a Lan pt9 / On AO3

Jin Ling comes to the Cloud Recesses with a present for Wen Ning

Jin Ling arrived to the Cloud Recesses on a mild afternoon for a visit, not to the Gusu Lan sect itself, but to Wen Qionglin. It was an official visit, too, and he had brought with him an appropriate retinue to signify he had come as a sect leader rather than in his own name.

Lan Qiren, with whom he had been corresponding to organise this, had been rather displeased by the implication that Wen Ning was affiliated to Gusu Lan in any manner. Even once Jin Ling had carefully explained that he aimed to appease, Lan Qiren remained doubtful, and only agreed to host that event with great reluctance. What helped getting him to agree was Jin Ling’s assurance that he would do this even without Gusu Lan's assistance. He would merely find a different place for this, should the Cloud Recesses be made unavailable, but he would still wish to do this with the help of another sect of consequence. Once he was sure that no slight against his sect was intended, Lan Qiren became more willing to cooperate, and promised to make sure that Wen Ning would be there on the agreed date.

Of course, Jin Ling had also written directly to Wen Ning regarding his plans. He had revealed parts of his intentions, while keeping the bits that really mattered hidden to make sure nothing would leak out until it was too late. And it was extremely important that no one should know what he was really planning, especially within his own sect, or people would try to stop him.

And now Jin Ling was right there, in the Cloud Recesses, being led to a banquet hall where Wen Ning was waiting for him, while carrying an ostentatious chest that seemed to get heavier the longer he held it. A little crowd was gathered there, mostly important looking Lan elders, but there was also Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji, as well as a few juniors on particularly good terms with Wen Ning. Jin Ling couldn’t stop himself from looking at Lan Sizhui, but aside from one glance, the other boy absolutely wouldn’t look at him, instead staring at the floor, or at Lan Qiren, or just about anywhere except at Jin Ling. That hurt of course, but it wasn’t exactly unexpected, and it gave Jin Ling renewed determination to do things right. Maybe he couldn’t get Lan Sizhui to become his husband, but he needed to do everything so they could be friends at least.

When everyone had arrived in the banquet room, and at Lan Qiren’s signal, Jin Ling walked up to a rather nervous looking Wen Ning, and held out his heavy box toward the fierce corpse.

“Wen Qiongling, I thank you for agreeing to meet me today,” Jin Ling announced, trying his best to sound as calm as Jin Guangyao, though he was pretty sure he ended up a little closer to being as harsh as Jiang Cheng. “I realise that there has been deep enmity between your people and Lanling Jin, but it is my belief that the time has come to move past that. For that reason, Wen Qiongling, I return to you these books and artefacts that were once taken as victory spoils following the Sunshot Campaign.”

Stiff as his face was, Wen Ning’s shock still made itself evident, his mouth opening as if he might gasp in surprise even though he no longer breathed. He hesitated, glancing toward an equally surprised Wei Wuxian (and good, Jin Ling liked being able to surprise his not-quite-uncle) who nodded at him in encouragement. Then, with trembling hands, Wen Ning took the chest Jin Ling was offering him, lifting it as if it weighed nothing and opening it to inspect its contents.

“Jiejie’s research,” Wen Ning said in a small voice. Had he retained the ability to cry, Jin Ling would have expected him to do so. “I thought it was lost…”

“For what it did, the Wen sect was punished,” Jin Ling said, forcing himself to not look at Lan Sizhui, unsure he would have the strength to go on if he saw the other boy’s reaction. “Those who had to die, died. But the Wen sect wasn’t always evil, and its knowledge should not be entirely lost. If it were to be reborn, and to stay true to what it once sought to do, the Jin sect would allow it. Furthermore…”

In spite of the Lan’s usual good manners, whispers rose around the room, as well as within Jin Ling’s own retinue. Of course saying something like that could only be controversial, but he hadn’t come there to please any of these unimportant people.

“Furthermore,” he insisted, raising his voice a little, “if it turned out that anyone of Wen blood has survived those past twenty years, then it is my belief that they should be allowed to exist without any further threats, since they have remained harmless for such a long time. If any such people were to come forward, the Jin sect would not allow any harm to come to them.”

Having said this, Jin Ling let out a shaky breath, glad that he’d successfully done this without anyone managing to stop him. There would be hell to pay for that little stunt later, of course. Lan Qiren hadn’t been informed of that part of his plan, so he was sure to scold Jin Ling, as would the Jin elders, supposing they didn’t have a Qi deviation upon learning what their young sect leader had done without their permission. Though of course the worst would be Jiang Cheng, who was definitely going to break Jin Ling’s legs this time.

Jin Ling was never going to be allowed to speak in public until he was at least fifty, and he didn’t care, because he knew it was the right thing to do if he wanted to keep Lan Sizhui in his life.

Since that drunken conversation with Nie Huaisang, Jin Ling had given the situation a lot of thought, and carefully considered the hints given to him by the older man.

It must all have been related to Wen Ning, the issue that made it impossible for Lan Sizhui to be his cultivation partner. And since Nie Huaisang had asked about any mentions of a preference for women, it seemed likely a girl was involved, right? So Jin Ling's theory was thus: that Lan Sizhui, who had gone travelling with Wen Ning, had been introduced to some surviving Wens, among which a girl he had agreed to marry in an effort to protect her and her family more than out of romantic affection. Even though he had a preference for Jin Ling, he could not back down from a promise given, being a self sacrificing Lan. 

It was very beautiful, and absolutely tragic, and if Jin Ling couldn't get the person he loved, then he'd at least do everything in his power to help Lan Sizhui.

After Jin Ling’s speech was over, after Lan Qiren stated that he would inform Zewu-Jun of this development and announce whether the Lan sect would align with the Jins, after Wen Ning stuttered his thanks with more emotion than anyone might have expected of a living corpse, Jin Ling dared to look again at Lan Sizhui, hoping to see him relieved or grateful. Instead, Lan Sizhui’s expression was indecipherable as he stared intensely at Jin Ling, his face bright red. 

Jin Ling ached to go see him, to ask if Lan Sizhui knew that he’d done this for him, all of it for him, so he could be happy, so he wouldn’t have to fear for the people he’d found and whom he must have loved more than he loved Jin Ling. Jin Ling needed Lan Sizhui to know this, but now that he had dropped his bomb, a number of boring people swarmed him to ask if he really meant what he said. And then dinner was served, and of course Jin Ling had to sit next to Lan Qiren (who, in spite of being forbidden by his rules from speaking, managed to make it very clear that he was angry at Jin Ling for tricking him into being part of this. He was a terrifying man, really, and Jin Ling was suddenly very glad he’d never study in Gusu like other boys his age). And then after the meal there were more people wanting to talk to him, so Jin Ling had no chance to see the one person he really wanted to see. 

Much to Jin Ling’s despair, he noticed Lan Sizhui discreetly leaving the banquet hall with Wen Ning after a little time. Fearing that he might lose his chance to talk to the other boy, Jin Ling very rudely escaped from all those annoying old people pestering him about politics and made his escape, running into the night after Lan Sizhui.

Well, quickly walking into the night, more accurately. This was still the Cloud Recesses, and Lan Qiren, who had left the banquet hall at the same time as him, already looked annoyed enough. No need to do anything to make him truly angry. 

Thankfully, Lan Sizhui had not disappeared too far by the time Jin Ling made his escape. The older boy was still near the banquet hall, quietly chatting with Wen Ning and looking with him through the contents of the box Jin Ling had given him. Seeing them like this, both of them awed and clearly emotional, made Jin Ling hesitate to bother them. He wasn’t the best at reading the room, but even he could tell that the moment was important for Wen Ning and Lan Sizhui, so important that they hadn’t been able to wait to be alone before they started talking about what was in the box. Jin Ling was left with conflicted feelings. He was happy, proud even, that he had done something good, but he also couldn’t help a certain bitterness that Lan Sizhui really was excluding him from whatever was happening in his life that concerned the Wens.

Before Jin Ling could decide whether he should interrupt the other two, Lan Sizhui noticed his presence. The older boy startled upon seeing him, his eyes round with surprise, his cheeks flushed so red that it was noticeable even in the low evening light. Lan Sizhui didn’t say anything, but Wen Ning noticed that his young friend was suddenly distracted and, noticing Jin Ling too, motioned for him to come closer.

“Jin zongzhu, thank you again for your kindness,” Wen Nin softly said when Jin Link had joined them. “My sister spent most of her life working on these. It means more to me than I can ever say.”

“There’s more I can return to you,” Jin Ling blurted, a little awkward now that it felt personal rather than important sect business. “I couldn’t bring everything at once, so I just thought you’d want your sister’s things the most, but there are other things too, and if you want we can organise a more private way to give it back. But I had to make a big show of it first. I had to make sure everyone knows we’re not enemies anymore!”

Wen Ning nodded, his impassive face looking a little sad.

“I know it won’t change anything, but I’m sorry about your father,” Wen Ning said. “I never meant…”

“No need to speak about it!” Jin Ling interrupted, that particular topic still uncomfortable in spite of his determination to forgive. “You’ve paid already for what you did back then, so there’s no need to speak about it anymore. I don’t know if we’ll ever be close friends like you are with some of the others, but I do know I don’t hate you, and I’m not angry at you most of the time. And even when I get angry… well, I won’t let it get in the way. I really want for Lanling Jin to move forward, and I want for the cultivation world to get some peace, so I’ll learn to control my temper, that’s all.”

“Hm,” Wen Ning said, staring at Jin Ling as only a dead man could stare, unwavering and unflinching. Then, after a little while, Wen Ning forced his stiff face to move into something resembling a smile. “You are a good person, Jin zongzhu, and I’m glad you’re A-Yuan’s friend. He chose well.”

“Wen-qianbei!” Lan Sizhui exclaimed in a mortified tone, his face even redder now.

“Have I said anything untrue?” Wen Ning innocently replied. “Is Jin zongzhu not a good and valued friend?” he then turned again to Jin Ling. “When we were travelling together, A-Yuan often spoke of you. At the time I wasn’t sure it was a good idea for him to have such a friend, but I am glad I was proven wrong.”

In spite of some odd irritation upon hearing Wen Ning use Lan Sizhui’s personal name so casually, Jin Ling was embarrassingly pleased to learn that the other boy had thought of him during his long absence. Even if they couldn’t be in love, it was nice to know that they both had real affection for each other, that he hadn’t imagined Lan Sizhui’s preference for him. But pleasant as that was for Jin Ling, Lan Sizhui himself looked more and more distressed by Wen Ning’s revelations. Apparently overwhelmed, Lan Sizhui grabbed Jin Ling’s wrist and started pulling him away, mumbling something about needing to talk in private.

Wen Ning smiled again at that, but Jin Ling barely noticed because Lan Sizhui had already dragged him away. They walked for a little while, going further and further from the banquet hall, until they arrived to a more isolated part of the Cloud Recesses where stood a large house surrounded by a garden. It worried Jin Ling a little, since he wasn’t sure he was actually allowed to be there, but Lan Sizhui was quick to assure him they were doing nothing forbidden.

“That house is the Hanshi,” he explained, dragging Jin Ling away from the path and behind some tall brushes. “It’s Lan zongzhu’s house, but he’s still in seclusion. The seniors never really come here out of respect for him, and the garden has a lot of discreet spots where you can’t be seen from the path, so some juniors have figured out that it’s fine to come here when they… when a little quiet and privacy is needed.”

“You mean this is a hookup spot?” Jin Ling asked, horrified that Lan Sizhui might have any reason to know a place like this.

“It’s not!” Lan Sizhui protested. “That… that would be against the rules of course. But Jingyi had told me a few times that it’s a nice place to chat, so I figured it would be fine to come here.”

It was absolutely, without a doubt, definitely and entirely, a hookup spot. Every sect had one, or more than one. With so many teenagers stuck together, it was only natural for places like that to develop. Jin Ling was aware of two such places in Jinlin Tai, and had rather strong suspicions concerning a third one, because there was no way Nie Huaisang and Lan Xichen had been the first people to realise the aviary was a good place for making out or more.

Jin Ling wanted to leave right then, because he was a sect leader, and he couldn’t be caught somewhere like that, least of all in another sect, and especially when that sect was Gusu Lan. He should have demanded they leave.

He didn’t, too thrilled to be somewhere like this with Lan Sizhui.

“Anyway, I brought you here because… you’ve figured it out, right?” Lan Sizhui whispered, his voice unbearably sad. “About… about why I reacted like that last time.”

Jin Ling nodded. “Yes. It’s… I understand. Is it… it is really sure?” he asked, hoping that maybe Lan Sizhui’s engagement to that mysterious Wen girl could still be cancelled. Maybe she could be dumped off on Lan Jingyi, couldn’t she? Surely Lan Jingyi should be glad that anyone at all agreed to marry him, and if he were a good friend, he'd do this for them.

“Oh it’s completely sure,” Lan Sizhui sighed. “And I… I can’t involve you in this. If I had known what you were planning today, I would have stopped you. You really didn’t have to do this, you know.”

“Of course I had to do it!” Jin Ling exclaimed, a little too loud for their surroundings. Both of them nervously glanced around, but there was no sign of anyone else, and the Hanshi’s door remained closed. “I had to do it,” Jin Ling insisted more quietly. “I have to do everything in my power to make sure you and the people you love are safe. And I hope… I hope that person and you get to be happy.”

“Happiness might be too much to ask for,” Lan Sizhui sighed. “But we’ll do our best. I think we’re both the sort of people to make the best of things.”

“And having a family must be nice.”

Lan Sizhui threw him a puzzled look, but nodded. “I suppose you’re right. I grew up without family, with just Hanguang-Jun taking care of me whenever he could. It’s been a little difficult sometimes to adapt to the change, but… but I like it. I like the way things are now.”

“And the family will only keep growing,” Jin Ling remarked with what he thought was a remarkable lack of bitterness. “I’m sure that will be nice too.”

“What do you mean it’ll keep growing?” Lan Sizhui asked with a confused frown.

“Well, after the marriage… I mean, children have to happen, right?”

Lan Sizhui’s confusion only increased. Jin Ling wondered, with no small degree of horror, if perhaps Lan Sizhui didn’t know how children were made. It seemed impossible for any boy his age not to know, but since Lan Sizhui also didn’t appear to realise what a hookup spot was, and with the Lans’ strict separation of the sexes, and their monk-like habits…

“Oh, Jin Ling, I think you’ve been taught a little incorrectly,” Lan Sizhui said, his voice dripping with pity. “I suppose people didn’t want you to know too much, but… oh, this is so embarrassing. But you see, even if Hanguang-Jun and Wei-qianbei are married, they can’t have children. Marriage is… not the only prerequisite for babies, you see, and…”

“I know that!” Jin Ling cut him, his voice once more too loud for such a place. “I know how babies are made! And I didn’t mean these two would have children! I meant you and your wife!”

“My what?”

“Well, your fiancée I suppose.”

“Fiancée?” Lan Sizhui stuttered. “What… what fiancée? I don’t… I’m not engaged? I don’t think? If I’m engaged, that’s the first time I’m hearing about it.”

Realising that he might have guessed wrong about the situation, Jin Ling squatted down and hid his face against his knees. He’d been so sure, it was the most logical explanation… but of course he’d been wrong, of course he’d made a fool of himself in front of Lan Sizhui, again, for about the billionth time since they’d met. Jin Ling wished for the ground to open up and swallowed him so he could get out of this conversation.

Instead Lan Sizhui crouched next to him and gently put a hand on his shoulder, as if he were trying to comfort Jin Ling.

How terribly rude of him to be so damn nice, even at a time like that.

“Jin Ling, I really don’t understand,” Lan Sizhui said. “Can you please explain? Why do you think I am engaged?”

“Because it seemed to make sense?” Jin Ling lamented, curling up on himself a little tighter. “You disappeared for so long, and you’re so close to Wen Ning now, and you act like you maybe like me but you pushed me away when I said I love you, so I figured…”

He trailed away, too mortified by his own stupidity to continue.

“You thought I was rejecting you because I already loved someone else?” Lan Sizhui asked, his hand clenching on Jin Ling’s shoulder. “Jin Ling, I’m so sorry, I didn’t think…”

“I didn’t think you were in love with someone else,” Jin Ling muttered. “You didn’t act like someone in love! But I figured… I thought you’d met a Wen girl who survived after the war, and you pitied her, and so you promised to marry her, because that way you’d be able to protect her! And I… I like you so much, and if I can’t have you, then at least I want you to be happy, so I thought I’d try to help, but I’m just an idiot and honestly I can’t even blame you for rejecting me!”

“Oh,” Lan Sizhui said. Then, after a long silence, he said: “Oh, Jin Ling, you’re really not making this easy for me.” Another long silence. “Jin Ling, you’re not so wrong though. There was a survivor. There’s at least one Wen still alive today.”

“There is?” Jin Ling asked, raising his head.

Lan Sizhui nodded nervously and removed his hand from Jin Ling’s shoulder. He opened his mouth a few times, twisting his fingers, then took a deep breath.

“Jin Ling, I’m a Wen by birth,” he said in a trembling voice. “That’s why… that’s why I left for so long and travelled with Wen-qianbei. That’s why I’m so close to him… and why I’m close to Wei-qianbei, too. I was… I lived in the Burial Mounds with them when I was a baby, until there was that siege. Hanguang-Jun saved me and brought me here, and I’ve been raised as a Lan, but in the end I’m still a…” he sighed, a few tears falling from his eyes. “That’s why I rejected you that time. Because of course… of course it’d be impossible to be together.”

“Why not?” Jin Ling immediately asked, to shocked to think of any other question.

Lan Sizhui wiped his tears with the palm of his hand, and stared at him as if he’d gone mad.

“Jin Ling, I’ve just told you why. I’m a Wen.”

“I’ve heard that, yes. Of course if you resent me for being from the family that killed yours…”

“I don’t,” Lan Sizhui mumbled. “It wasn’t your fault. You’d just been born. And if I resented you, we wouldn’t be friends. But you…”

“Exactly, if there was resentment between us, we wouldn’t be friends,” Jin Ling agreed. “Listen, I’ve just publicly forgiven Wen Ning, who literally killed my father, and who was indirectly responsible for the death of my mother. If I can forgive him with all that, do you really think I’m going to be angry at you, when you were also barely more than a baby when all that stuff happened?”

For a brief moment, Lan Sizhui smiled at him with so much affection that Jin Ling felt his heart would explode if he didn’t kiss him. But before he could do so, Lan Sizhui’s expression turned sad again, more so than before.

“A-Ling, it’s not just about you and I though,” he pointed out. “You might forgive, but your uncle, your sect, the rest of the cultivation world… already they will be angry for what you’ve done today, so if you were to be involved with a Wen… Of course we could try to hide, but…”

“Secrets always come out in the end,” Jin Ling said, remembering Nie Huaisang saying something to that effect when he’d tried to help Jin Ling guess the truth. Of course secrets were hard to keep, when cultivators tended to be naturally nosy. “I wouldn’t make you hide,” he promised. “Why should you hide? You’ve done nothing wrong. I don’t care that you’re a Wen. You’re the person I like. You’re the kindest, handsomest, most perfect person in the world, and I love you, and I will fight anyone who ever tries to harm you.”

“Yes, I think you would,” Lan Sizhui sighed. “That’s why I don’t think it’s wise… Your life is already so complicated, I don’t want to make it worse. I don’t think I’m worth the trouble.”

“You are,” Jin Ling replied, grabbing Lan Sizhui's hands with a little too much enthusiasm, nearly making both of them fall into the bush that hid them. “You’re worth annoying a few old farts. You’re worth having Jiujiu shout at me. You’re worth fighting the entire cultivation world. I love you that much. And if I have to be in enormous trouble… well, if at least you’re here at my side, I’ll like that better than if I could be safe but without you!”

Hearing this, Lan Sizhui’s face became bright red, and he turned his face to the side, clearly trying to hide a pleased smile.

“A-Ling, you’re really unreasonable,” he mumbled. “You’re making it hard to do the right thing.”

“Maybe it wouldn’t be the right thing anyway,” Jin Ling retorted. “It’s going to be difficult for you no matter what. Wouldn’t you rather it be difficult and we get to kiss?”

Lan Sizhui chuckled, and turned to look again at Jin Ling with an expression so soft that for a brief moment, Jin Ling thought they really might kiss right there and then. And perhaps they would have, if not for something else catching Lan Sizhui’s attention.

“Oh no,” Lan Sizhui gasped, staring at something on the other side of the bush. “Why would they be here, today of all days?”

Looking through the leaves, Jin Ling quickly understood the problem, and felt a terror like no other seize him.

Having just exited the Hanshi, Lan Qiren and Lan Xichen were slowly making their way down the path, right toward Jin Ling and Lan Sizhui’s hiding place. It had gotten dark enough that the two boys could hope to be hard to notice, especially when the two men appeared deep in conversation, but Jin Ling still felt more scared than he’d ever been in his life. He could face monsters and ghosts, he could face crazed killers and murderous uncles, that wasn’t so bad. But if he was caught alone after dark, with Lan Sizhui, in a hookup spot, then Jin Ling was going to die of shame.

And if he somehow survived, he was going to die from being murdered by Jiang Cheng.

Both Jin Ling and Lan Sizhui became as still as statues, hardly daring to breathe. As the two older men came closer, Jin Ling started to catch snippets of conversations. At first it seemed to concern his earlier stunt, and while Lan Qiren was clearly annoyed, Lan Xichen’s soft laugh resonated once or twice. By the time the two men came near enough for Jin Ling to really hear what they said, the topic had already shifted, and Lan Xichen’s good humour appeared to be gone.

“There is still time,” Lan Xichen said, in a voice drier than Jin Ling had ever heard from him. “I am still in seclusion, there’s no urgency.”

“This sect needs an heir,” Lan Qiren retorted. “I will not let you hide like your father did. Not until you’ve at least done your duty for this sect. Make no mistake, I understand your heartbreak, and I sympathise. Being betrayed by your lover can’t have been easy, least of all when Nie Huaisang shows so little remorse. But you’ve had enough time to cry, and it’s time to move forward. You will meet that matchmaker next month, I demand it.”

[ravennm84]

The Inspector

I read a short story on AO3 a while back about a teacher or adult sending a letter to the Board of Governors about the teachers of the school and how terrible they were, and decided to write a story about the person who was assigned to look into the accusations. Got some salt and justice coming along. And I must say, this was very therapeutic to write. Warm-Fuzzies and please enjoy!!

Inspector Walters had a bad feeling about the Francois-Dupont College since the moment he’d received the assignment. The Board of Governors had been debating conducting an investigation on the school since one of the classes had been nicknamed “The Akuma Class” by social media and a few news sources. It became a necessity when a complaint had been filed by the Dupain-Cheng family about their daughter’s expulsion. 

That complaint had surprised him. Only the Board of Governors had the power to expel a student after an investigation, and they hadn’t expelled the girl. The parents claimed that it was done on the same day as the accusations against the student, and was then retracted the following day. Again, something that only the Board of Governors had the power to do.

Looking over the incident report, the details were slim at best. Mlle. Dupain-Cheng was accused of cheating on a mock exam and the answer sheet was found in her backpack. When looking at the schedule, he saw that the mock exam had been taken the day before and the teacher only noticed that the answer sheet was missing after receiving the exams. A fact which bothered him a bit, but he’d seen a few scatterbrained teachers, as well as students make the mistake of not getting rid of the evidence. However, he also saw from her student records that she was one of the top students and always got high grades, so there was some doubt that she would have cheated.

The next thing was the accusation that she had pushed another student, Mlle. Lila Rossi down the stairs, injuring her right knee. However, there was no mention of an ambulance being called or even a trip to the nurse’s station. It was also suspect that there was no mention of other injuries that someone would have received after falling down stairs; no recorded cuts, bruises, or anything. So either Rossi had the most well placed fall that kept her from major injury, or she was lying.

The last part of the report was that Mlle. Dupain-Cheng had stolen a necklace from Mlle. Rossi and put it in her locker. Again, he was a bit skeptical considering that the same two girls had been involved with a separate incident on the same day. There was a picture of the locker, but Walters quickly noticed that there was no actual lock on the locker, something that he should be seeing since the Board had funded upgrades for lockers months ago. There was also no CCTV record attached to the incident report, meaning that the system was down and not reported, or the principal never checked them and only went by the word Mlle. Rossi.

Looking over the rest of the file, it was even more suspect when he saw that only Mlle. Dupain-Cheng’s parents had been called in. Mlle. Rossi’s contact, her mother, had been listed as “unavailable”. This was yet another thing that didn’t sit well with him. Following his gut, M. Walters set aside the Dupain-Cheng student file to look more closely at the Rossi student file. 

Not five minutes in, he knew that things were not right. The disabilities she had listed in the current file were not consistent with the files from her previous schools, and there were no doctors notes to support them as being recently discovered ailments. He attempted to call the number listed on the current file, but it kept going straight to voicemail. Comparing the number to the previous files, he noticed that the number did not match.

Finding himself very unhappy with the incomplete file provided by Principal Damocles, he decided that he would have to go to the school in person the following morning and see for himself what was really going on.

~oOo~

First stop he made was to the principal’s office. M. Walters had not alerted him of the inspection so that the man would not have a chance to change or hide specific documents, he’d seen that happen more than once. What he had not expected was to see a grown man playing with dolls/action figures behind his desk. Damocles quickly straightened up, hiding the dolls in a drawer before scowling at him. “What is the meaning of this? You can’t simply barge into my office without-”

“Actually, M. Damocles, I can,” he interrupted, pulling out his identification. “Inspector Walters, I’m with the Board of Governors, looking into a recent complaint filed against the school.”

“Complaint? What complaint?” He asked, sputtering a bit in surprise.

“The expulsion of Mlle. Marinette Dupain-Cheng,” he glared at the man.

“Oh, that incident has already been handled.”

“Is that so? Then please, explain to me how the incident was handled.” Pulling out a chair, Walters flipped open his notepad and clicked open his pen. Some of his colleagues considered the whole pen and paper thing to be a little old-school at times, but it had its purpose. He waved a hand at Damocles to begin.

“Well, Mlle. Lila Rossi suffers from a rare disease that makes her lie uncontrollably when she is stressed-”

“I’m going to stop you right there, M. Damocles. We will get to the reason why you reinstated Mlle. Dupain-Cheng in a moment. First, I want you to go through everything on the day of the incident.”

“Oh, of-of course,” he was beginning to fidget. “I was sitting in my office when I heard screaming outside of my door. When I came outside, Marinette Dupain-Cheng was standing at the top of the stairs and Mlle. Lila Rossi was at the bottom of the stairs, crying that she had been pushed.” Walters wrote this down and waved a hand for him to continue. “M. Harpele and I brought her upstairs and wrapped the knee that was injured, and then contacted Mlle. Dupain-Cheng’s parents to talk about the incident, seeing as Mlle. Rossi had been badly injured.”

Walters finished writing that down before looking back up at Damocles. “And is that when you called an ambulance to look over Mlle. Rossi’s injury and check to make sure there were no other injuries?”

It was no surprise to him when Damocles mouth did an impersonation of a fish for a moment. “Well, um, no. I did not call an ambulance-”

“Then I can only imagine that you called the school nurse to your office to look her over and deem whether or not a trip to the hospital was necessary?”

Again, he began impersonating a fish. “I-I didn’t think it was- Mlle. Rossi claimed that she was fine and that only her knee was injured.”

“You just told me that you believed Mlle. Rossi was, and I quote ‘badly injured’, and yet she received no medical attention?” Walters hummed in a disbelieving manner as he looked down at his notepad and wrote down his thoughts. “That was quite irresponsible of you. I’ve read your personnel file and nowhere does it list that you have a medical background. Yet, you thought yourself qualified to treat and diagnose a girl that claimed to have been pushed down the stairs and could have underlying injuries, such as a concussion, broken bones, or internal bleeding?” 

To his satisfaction, the principal began to sweat, but he was nowhere close to finished yet. “I can imagine that Mme. Rossi was upset when you called her to the school for the meeting with M. and Mme. Dupain-Cheng.” Just as he suspected, Damocles wouldn’t meet his eyes. “You have contacted Mme. Rossi about the incident, have you not?”

“Well, Mme. Rossi is an ambassador and is very busy-”

“Are you meaning to tell me that you failed to alert a parent that their child was injured while in your care?” When the principal looked away again, Walters glared before double clicking his pen and writing down more notes.Taking his time as he wrote to allow the man to sweat and worry about what was being written.

“We will return to your failure at contacting parents and guardians later. Now, tell me what you observed when you reviewed the CCTV footage of the stairs at the time of the incident.” Just as he suspected, the man became flustered and refused to meet his eyes. “Are you telling me that you did not, at any time, look over the footage to corroborate whether Mlle. Rossi was pushed or accidentally fell?” 

Hesitating again. “I, um, thought it unnecessary. It was clear that she was pushed-”

“And you know that for fact, how, exactly?” He glared as he kept writing.

“As I said, Mlle. Dupain-Cheng was standing at the top of the stairs while Mlle. Rossi was at the bottom of the stairs, crying that she’d been pushed-”

“You also said, and I quote ‘I was sitting in my office when I heard screaming outside of my door’. Meaning that you did not actually see whether Mlle. Rossi was pushed or simply fell. Am I to understand that you believed one child over another without gathering evidence to prove or disprove the claim?”

Walters watched as the man’s parlor turned a pale green while muttering multiple failed excuses, which only served to anger him further. So far, Damocles had failed to show him, in any way, that he was qualified to run this school and had let an innocent girl suffer for his mistakes. “You are going to pull up that footage right now, and have it prepared for a meeting I will be setting up with Mme. Rossi later today. And not just the stairs, but the footage of the classroom to see exactly who stole the test answer sheet and the lockerroom to see if the accusations of Mlle. Dupain-Cheng stealing Mlle. Rossi’s property is at all valid. And allow me to make something very clear, you are already looking at being brought up on negligence and abuse of power, seeing as you expelled and reinstated a student, something that only the Board of Governors has the power to do. If I find out that the footage is somehow ‘missing’, I will have no choice but to assume that you have purposefully erased it to protect yourself and will have you brought before the Board by tomorrow morning. Am I clear?”

The man gave a shaky nod, as he immediately got on his computer and began pulling up the footage from that day.

Getting on his phone, Walters called the number that Mme. Rossi had listed in the previous files and it went straight through. He easily scheduled a meeting for later that day and hung up.“I will be sitting in on Mme. Bustier’s class for the rest of the day, until Mme. Rossi arrives at 1pm for our appointment. Have all the footage ready by then.” Without another word, Inspector Walters left the office and made his way down to the Akuma Classroom.

~oOo~

Lunch had finally come and Walters was anything but impressed by what he had seen. To her credit, Mme. Bustier had been polite and understanding towards his presence in the classroom and seemed to go about teaching as usual. She was also a very upbeat type of personality, something needed in a city plagued by akumas. But that was the extent of his compliments towards the teacher. 

During the first half of the day, he witnessed the woman allow her students to become disorderly multiple times. Three of which stood out to him beyond the normal rowdy teenage energy that is normal for a classroom. 

The first was how a boy in the front of the room kept flinching and curling into himself whenever another student, who just happened to be Mlle. Lila Rossi, touched him. She was sharing his desk in the front, sitting inappropriately close, clutching his arm in a possessive manor, and ignored him when he asked her to let him go or give him space. All this was done in full view of Mme. Bustier, and she did nothing.

During the literature lesson, they were studying Bram Stoker's Dracula, Mlle. Rossi interrupted and began telling a story about being a descendant of Vlad the Impaler. A complete falsehood since Vlad’s only child had been killed as an infant. This was a fact that the teacher should have corrected or told the girl to pay attention to the lesson, but she did nothing. Allowing the girl to prattle on for close to 15 minutes before returning to the lesson.

The worst though, was when Mlle. Rossi, made another scene when she began complaining about how her left knee was still hurting from when Marinette pushed her down the stairs. The other students proceeded to glare and speak harsh words about the girl. It was at this time that Mlle. Dupain-Cheng stood from her seat in the back and attempted to defend herself. Mme. Bustier did intervene this time, but she did not reprimanded the other students that were ganging up on the one girl. Instead, she reprimanded Marinette and told her that she was not setting a good example for the class. Then forced her to apologize to Lila for upsetting her. Blatant victim blaming, right in front of him, and the teacher had the nerve to smile at him as if to say that she had handled the situation.

Walters had written everything down, already deciding that he would need to call the Board at the first possible moment to alert them to the incompitent administrative practices of Damocles, as well as the toxic teaching methods of Bustier. It was now little wonder why this class had produced so many akumas. It was a miracle that there were any students left in the class that hadn’t been akumatized. But seeing as one student was clearly being bullied and the other was being sexually harassed, it likely wouldn’t be long.

He was just barely able to fit in the call and look over the CCTV footage before his meeting with Mme. Rossi in M. Damocles office. That had been interesting, to say the least. Before the meeting had even started, Mme. Rossi was voicing her worry about the amount of time that the school had been closed due to akuma attacks…

Once that had been cleared up, M. Damocles got to the matter at hand. Beginning with requesting information and doctors notes at her earliest convenience pertaining to her daughter’s injuries, disabilities, as well as requesting more information about her lying disease. Again, that had been a very interesting conversation that resulted in the woman yelling at Damocles in French and Italian about how incompetant he was and why hadn’t he gotten ahold of her sooner?

But the worst reaction came when Damocles told her about the day of the incident. They showed her the footage found of Lila, and yes it was Lila, stealing the answer sheet off of Mme. Bustier’s desk and then slip it into Marinette’s bag on her way back to her seat. Then the footage of Lila breaking into Marinette’s locker and planting the necklace. And finally, Lila smiling at Marinette before walking down the stairs and sitting on the ground before she started screaming. 

By then, another inspector from the Board of Governors had arrived to assist in the situation that he had reported during his earlier phone call and the students had returned from lunch. Walters requested Mme. Bustier to join them and to bring Lila along. When the girl entered the office and saw her furious mother and principal, she paled immediately and started lying.

Even when Walters, Damocles, and her mother tore apart every one of her lies, she kept trying to turn things around and make herself a victim. And to Walters’ horror, Damocles was actually buying her lies! It was at that moment that he decided that the man had no right being a school administrator and would be put on leave, pending the end of his investigation and the Board of Governors decision. 

Bustier attempted to side with Lila as well, claiming that the girl suffered from a disease and shouldn’t be punished. Completely ignoring that Mme. Rossi told her that her daughter suffered no such ‘disease’. The other inspector, Marchand, looked on in disgust before pulling out his phone and calling the Board of Governors right there, relaying his support of Walters’ recommendation against Damocles and Bustier. 

Walters took charge of the situation, forcing Damocles out of his chair to take his seat. “Mme. Rossi, as an inspector of the Board of Governors, I must ask if you fully understand the situations that your daughter has caused?”

The woman took a deep breath before slowly letting it out, all the while retaining a firm grip on her daughter’s arm after she had attempted to flee the room earlier. “If you would, please go over everything from the top.” The woman requested, her voice a bit hoarse after yelling at the principal, the teacher, and her daughter.

Giving the woman a sympathetic nod, he flipped open the notebook and went over his notes while Marchand kept Damocles and Bustier quiet and standing in a corner. “I have personally observed your daughter disrupting class, bullying a student named Marinette Dupain-Cheng, lying to her peers, leading them to also bully Mlle. Dupain-Cheng, and sexually harassing another student who verbally asked her to stop. We have video evidence of her committing theft, harassing the same student I witnessed her bullying, framing that student for assault, as well as framing that student of theft and cheating. All that, as well as your testimony of her lying to the school administration about different injuries and illnesses, fraud in regards to changing your contact information, and four months of truancy. 

“At this point, the school has no choice but to suspend Lila, pending an investigation to be completed by the Board of Governors,” he said, handing her the paperwork to sign, which she did right away. “At the time the investigation is complete, she will have the opportunity to plead her case to the Board. However, I want to make it clear that, from what I have seen, it is very likely that your daughter will be expelled.”

To her credit, Mme. Rossi held her head high as she nodded and handed back their copies of the suspension papers. “I suspected as much. However, I do request that a meeting be scheduled with Mlle. Dupain-Cheng’s parents so that Lila may apologize in person. I also want her to apologize to the class and admit her lies to them so that there won’t be any backlash on that poor girl.”

Lila turned to her mother in a panic. “No, Mom! Please don’t make me-”

“YOUNG LADY, you are going to tell the class everything you lied about, apologize to that girl, and admit that you have been bullying her. Am I clear?” Walters was impressed that the girl simply nodded as she curled into herself before Mme. Rossi looked back to him. “I will not allow Lila to escape her punishment, that includes telling the truth to the people she has wronged.”

He nodded in understanding. “I’ll see about arranging a meeting. However, the suspension will be taking effect immediately, if you wish to have her confess to the class, I suggest doing so right now before school lets out.” Walters then turned to give the teacher a hard look that had her wilting under his gaze. “I’m sure Mme. Bustier would have no problem with that, I will also accompany you. M. Marchand, would you mind keeping an eye on M. Damocles?”

“Of course, I would like to word with him in private, myself.” He said, sending the man his own scathing look.

Mme. Bustier quietly escorted the Rossis and himself back to the classroom. The gym teacher, M. D’Argencourt had been watching over the class while Bustier had been in the meeting. Walters asked him to stay, and that they would only be there for a moment before turning to nod at the other teacher.

“Students, may I have your attention, please?” She waited a few seconds as the students put away what they were doing, likely hearing the tremor in the woman’s voice. “As you know, M. Walters, from the Board of Governors, has been sitting in with us today. It has been brought to my attention that one of our students has not been honest with us and has been causing a fair amount of trouble.” 

Looking back at the girl and her mother, Mme. Rossi forced her daughter to step forward while keeping a hand on her shoulder. At first, she didn’t say anything. Then her mother leaned forward to whisper something in her ear, causing her to slump and tears to fall down her cheeks. “I-I lied, about everything. *sniffle* I don’t know any celebrities. I’ve never helped charities or been to Achu. *sniffle* I don’t have tinnitus, arthritis, or anything like that. I’m not Ladybug’s best friend and I’m not related to Vlad the Impaler. And-and…”

“And…” Mme Rossi said in a forceful tone, ignoring the stunned looks they were receiving from the class. Lila tucked her chin to her chest, muttering the rest of her confession under her breath. But her mother wasn’t going to allow that. “Speak up so everyone can hear you, unless you want to be grounded for twice as long with no allowance at all.”

The girl’s hands fisted at her side as she spoke loud enough for everyone in the room to hear. “Marinette never bullied me. I-I bullied her. I told her that I would take her friends from her. I pl-planted the answer sheet in her bag. *sob* I put my necklace in-in her locker. She never pushed me down the stairs either, I faked it to get her expelled.”

“And why did you do all of this to that girl, Lila?” Her mother asked, making it clear that she had to answer. 

“Be-because sh-she knew that I was lying *sob hiccup sob* and I wanted her gone.”

“And what do you have to say to Marinette?”

Lila lifted her chin, glaring dangerously at the girl sitting in the back. “Sorry,” she snapped.

Mme. Bustier looked up at the girl, giving her a kind smile. “And do you accept her apology, Marinette?”

That really pissed him off, that woman had no right to put that girl on the spot after Rossi had done everything in her power to ruin that girl’s life. Before she could say anything, Walters stepped in front of Bustier. “Marinette, you are under no obligation to accept her apology, that is completely up to you.” Waiting a moment he saw the absolute relief on the girl’s face before quietly shaking her head and settling back in her chair. 

Walters then instructed M. D’Argencourt to continue with the class while he escorted Bustier back to the office while Mme. Rossi took her daughter home. 

There was still a lot to do in this school, it was clear to him that the two educators, and he used that term loosely, needed to go. There was paperwork to fill out, more CCTV footage to go over, interviews with the students of Bustier’s class, and calls needed to be made to the Dupain-Chengs and the Agrestes about Lila Rossi and what she’d done to their children. The investigation literally had weeks of work to do, but it had to be done. But Walters knew, by the time they were done cleaning house, the students and school would be better off for it.

~oOo~ Four Weeks Later ~oOo~

Walters was working on the last of the paperwork having to do with the Francois-Dupont College debacle, greatly relieved that it was over.

Lila Rossi had been officially expelled after the investigation for bullying, harassment, theft, sexual harassment, cheating, destruction of property, fraud, and truancy. During her trial before the Board, the Dupain-Cheng family had been present and she had been forced to apologize to them for what she had done to her daughter. From her file, he saw that the Dupain-Chengs, as well as the Agreste family, had placed restraining orders on the girl. The Agreste family were also pressing charges for sexual harassment. Mme. Rossi had mentioned a reformatory school for delinquent children in Italy, stating that she had already enrolled her daughter, despite the outcome of the Board’s decision. He was glad that the woman was taking everything in stride and seemed to be doing the right thing.

The investigation into M. Damocles had uncovered even more skeletons than Walters had expected. Negligence and abuse of power, those were easily confirmed. They also uncovered proof of favoritism, taking bribes to ensure that certain students were not punished for offenses or that they passed their classes, despite failing grades. But the nail in the coffin was when Walters tracked down the money that was supposed to go to upgrading the lockers, Damocles had embezzled it to fund his vigilante superhero activities. He had officially been fired and blacklisted from ever working for the educational system or any branch of the government. The new principal was a vice principal from another school, well versed in bullying situations and had degrees in accounting as well as education. She would be going over all the books to see exactly how much money Damocles had embezzled over the years, so the Board of Governors would be able to sue for the proper amount of restitutions.

The issue of Mme. Bustier turned out to be an interesting matter. While looking into her qualifications, it had been revealed that her teaching license had been suspended before she had been hired by Damocles to teach at the school. Not trusting her file, Walters contacted her previous school and found out that they had fired her for much of the same reasons he had put her on leave. She had enabled bullies, blamed the victims, and pressured her “star pupil” to take on the work of a teaching assistant. When that same student complained and refused to help anymore, Bustier had told his parents that the boy was a troublemaker, refused to follow instruction, and was talking back. The boy had insisted on talking to the principal, who had cleared things up with the student and his parents. Bustier had been fired for her behavior and her license suspended until she completed anti-bullying classes, which she never attended. She simply applied to a new school, where the principal didn’t look too closely at her paperwork, and resumed her toxic teaching methods. Because of this; Bustier had been fired, blacklisted from ever teaching again, as well as arrested for teaching without a license.

The whole of Bustier’s class had been assigned counselling sessions for the foreseeable future until the toxic habits that the teacher had instilled in the class could be rectified. Though Walters was pleased to see that there seemed to be progress, as none of the students had been akumatized since the day he had gone to the school. A new record for time between akumatizations. The substitute that had been hired was stern, well versed in squashing bullying habits, but was sympathetic to the victims. That was what that class needed for the time until the Board could find a suitable, permanent replacement. 

All in all, Walters felt that he had done his job with investigating the Dupain-Cheng expulsion, and was happy to hear that the girl was doing much better. Her record had been cleared, her grades were still at the top of the class, and she had given the Board a basket of baked goods on the day of Lila’s trial, which had been like eating little bites of heaven. She had even given him a custom notebook cover, that he was pretty sure she made herself, and a matching pen. It was a very kind gift, and might have thought it was a bribe if anyone else had given it to him, but he could tell that she was just grateful to him for listening to her and making her school life better. 

That was the reason he enjoyed his job.

Taglist:

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@ironspiderstark  @goblinwhoships  @toodaloo-kangaroo

[lovestruckay]

Request: "Please make a fic where the reader (female or gn) is new to the Fire Force as an unpowered person and they become attached to Viktor"

Pairing: Viktor x Unpowered Fem!Reader

A/N: Thank you sm for the request, @thesolarflame​! I really flip-flopped on what position to give the reader considering she is unpowered. I thought about making her a member of the science team, a fighter like Obi, and even making her a sister. I think everyone will enjoy what I landed on though!

When Vulcan first joined Company 8, he had done an inspection of their matchbox and all of their fire fighting equipment. Once he had finished going through their arsenal, he had explained to Obi that there was just far too much for him to maintain on his own while simultaneously developing new technology to assist them in battle.

Just maintaining the matchbox was a task in and of itself, let alone the fleet of weapons and armor that Obi donned every time they were called to the scene of a fire. He was a talented engineer, surely, but there was only so much one man could do.

Vulcan’s solution: he knew a girl.

He had wasted no time in gathering up Lisa and Yu and going on a little “family outing” before returning with the mysterious mechanic in tow, the woman receiving a warm - if chaotic, as per Company 8’s usual demeanor - welcome.

She was an engineer just like Vulcan, a talented technician who was nearly as famous as he was in their close knit junk-rat community. While Vulcan was renowned for his skill at creating unique and nearly indestructible machines, she was famous for her ability to keep machines going far passed the point they should have fallen to pieces.

Vulcan frequently tried to pick her brain on her uncanny ability but her answers were something that befuddled him more than anything else.

“It’s love. You can spend years building the most flawless, indestructible machine the world has ever seen but, without love, she’ll break down as surely as the sun rises. Love keeps things going when they should fall apart.”

Vulcan scoffed at her sentimentality and she laughed at his stubbornness, the two always returning to their friendly rivalry despite their differences in opinions. They would rag on each other and goad each other on but, through it all, he respected her skill and she respected his ingenuity.

As for the rest of the company, she got along well with the crew of fire soldiers. Despite her easy comradery with the others, however, she always felt out of place. After all, she wasn’t a fire soldier or even a pyrokinetic so suddenly getting wrapped up in all this business with infernals and the White Clad was disarming.

She had gone from her humble machine shop to a Fire Force cathedral, surrounded by people who could control bullets, who could make swords out of plasma, and who could even fly. She was just an engineer - and unpowered at that - and, despite how fulfilling her work was, she felt like she had lost her anchor joining Company 8.

Initially, she had latched onto Vulcan and Lisa for some sense of normality but the feeling of being a third wheel quickly overcame any comfort that came from their companionship. After all, the two mostly stuck to themselves, the two very much in love. More than that, with Lisa still dealing with her trauma from her experiences with the White Clad, Vulcan was even more unavailable than ever.

Feeling lost and out of place, she was surprised to find an easy companionship with Company 8’s one and only science officer.

Viktor had been the one to initiate their first real conversation, the man as curious as he was out of the ordinary. He had approached her while she had been having a conversation with the matchbox, praising her girl for doing such a great job during their last mission.

“Do you think the matchbox understands you?” Viktor asked, peeking down into the inspection pit beneath the vehicle where she spent a fair amount of her time. Despite how bluntly he phrased his question, there was no judgement in his tone. Just simple curiosity.

“I’m not sure if she understands my words but I think she understands what I’m saying, if that makes sense,” she answered with a friendly smile, already used to conversations like this with Vulcan.

“So, it’s more of you trying to get across your message and your intentions rather than believing you are having an actual conversation with a machine?”

“You could say that, although it still is a conversation. I listen and she tells me what’s wrong, so I fix her. Then she listens to me when I praise her and ask her to keep going. We talk, just not like you and I talk,” she explained, pleasantly surprised when he simply nodded in understanding.

Their conversation continued well into the afternoon, to the point where - after she had finished her tune up - the two had perched themselves on the bumper of the matchbox to continue their chat. It wasn’t until Vulcan had come out to collect them for dinner that they realized how long they had been talking and laughing, a situation that they would find themselves repeating every day for weeks.

Sometimes their conversations took place with her down in the inspection pit under the matchbox or her in the equipment room maintaining all of Company 8’s gear.

Sometimes they talked for hours in Viktor’s admittedly messy room (he tried to clean up just for her) or even on the roof of the cathedral.

Sometimes they chatted for hours at the dining room table, the entire company coming and going for lunch and then dinner and leaving them to their conversation with knowing smiles and teasing giggles.

She found herself relieved to have someone who understood her, both as an engineer and as an unpowered person, and Viktor found himself curious about the kind-hearted mechanic who defied the laws of physics with love. The two talked not just about engineering and science but about music, anime, their hobbies, and even their dreams. 

As their conversations continued, they found themselves growing even closer than friends - casual flirts slipped into their conversations as readily as they talked about anything else. Teasing and blushing became as commonplace in their time together as mentions of physics and mechanics.

Despite how their relationship was slowly changing, she was always comfortable in Viktor’s company. He made her feel understood, safe, and anchored. He had become her port in the storm. She felt like she was at home when she was with him and, with the way he finally seemed to take a full breath when she was around, he felt the same.

One day, after being called to the scene of an infernalization, she had a close call with a first-generation pyrokinetic, the woman mad with pain and lashing out at anything that moved. It had been Viktor who had tackled her to the ground, covering her smaller body with his own and protecting her as the fireball rocketed through the space she had once occupied.

The rest of the crew had made short work of putting the woman to rest but Iris’ prayers had fallen on ringing ears as their engineer realized how close she had come to an agonizing death. It had put into perspective how truly dangerous these situations were for unpowered people like her and Viktor. They didn’t have the same fire resistance or combat training that the other members of Company 8 did and the very real peril left her shaken, even after they had returned to the cathedral.

It had been Viktor who had pulled her away from the rest of their company, guiding her into his quiet room so he could wrap his arms around her and pull her into his warm embrace. Her arms looped around his waist, the engineer settling against his solid chest and pressing her ear against his heartbeat.

It was a few minutes before they spoke but she felt no pressure from him to do so. Instead of pushing her, he quietly held her and stroked her back, her anxiety slowly settling as she was calmed by the warm embrace of the man she had fallen in love with.

“How do you do it? Go running into that every day? You’re unpowered too, doesn’t it scare you?” she finally asked, breaking the silence between them.

“Of course it does,” Viktor chuckled, his laughter vibrating in his chest as he rested his cheek against her hair, “I never know if today is going to be the last day I spend on this earth. But it’s worth it knowing that I’m actually learning something real about the world; that I’m where I should be.”

His next words were a bit quieter but no less passionate as he hummed them against her hair. “It’s worth it knowing you’re at my side.”

Pulling back, she looked up at him in surprise, and he gazed down at her with that same crooked smile. She was struck by the tenderness in his eyes and by the warmth in his expression - an affection that he only ever showed her. In that moment, she knew that she was also where she should be. That it was all worth it to her too, knowing that he was by her side.

Meeting Viktor's smile with one of her own, she stood on the tips of her toes, pressing a brief but sweet kiss to his cheek.

When she returned to her heels, gazing up at him with a gentle smile spread across her face, he stared back down at her in stunned wonder. A blush dusted his cheeks, his lips parted and his eyes rounded in surprise.

“Thank you for always being there with me, Viktor,” she thanked, feeling more at ease in his arms than she had ever felt anywhere else.

At her words, his smile returned, the corners of his lips quirking up although his blush remained. Reaching up, he cupped her cheeks in his broad hands before leaning down to press his lips to hers. Gently moving his lips against hers, they shared a tender, lingering kiss.

Just when she thought she might forget how to breathe, her heart swelling in her chest and stealing the air from her lungs, he pulled away.

“Always,” Viktor promised as he pressed his forehead to hers, gazing into her eyes with a loving expression.

[jiminniethemarshmallow]

Thank You For Your Service IV (M)

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

Part 1~ Part 2~ Part 3~ Part 4

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

*** *** ***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Am I with whom?” You ask, confused.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“A c-censorship?” He stutters out.

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

“It is not a censorship.” He evades.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And that is exactly what he does.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Even after being promoted to Commander in Chief?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re quick.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Speaking of, may I meet them?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You do not have to-“

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

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

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

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

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

“Faster?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why is that?”

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

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

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

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

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

“B-but I bled last month.”

“For how many days?”

“One or two...”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It was not a date!”

[give-grian-rights]

Bets Against The Void (Whitelist AU)

Well.. I DID IT. This is only chapter 1. I planned on this being a one-shot, but if it was, it would take me so long to finish it. So, chapters it is.

This is crossposted on AO3. I don’t exactly stand with a lot of what it’s doing, but it’s not particularly easy to find fics on Tumblr I feel..and I will never go back to Wattpad. Not again.

@petrichormeraki Whitelist AU fic :)

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

They had just left the server to practice for MCC, that was all. Wilbur would be so proud, the two youngest would be sure, if they managed to win one. For Tommy, it would be his first win not aided by his  (Troubled, distrustful, anarchist-)  family, and Tubbo’s first-ever. 

Teams for the next MCC had yet to be announced, but it hadn’t mattered. Tommy had been invited back to every competition since MCC 2, after all- and the competition had already become accommodating to Tubbo, following the..Circumstances, of The Festival. 

The admins hosting the event were concerned, following the events they’d hear of about their server. They hadn’t known much; no one outside their world, really did. But, well..When asked about the status of Wilbur, and if he’d attend- the silence and reaction of the residents of his world were telling.

Barely a handful of players were at the server, practicing. It was calming, for the teenagers. The two had primarily stuck together, as they tended to do after the Pogtopia-Manburg war. The siblings were back together again. And they had each other- they trusted each other, unquestionably. Something more than they could say about anyone else.

By the time they made it back to the world hub, they were already exhausted. The timezone of their server would be late, they were sure. Their arms ached, and legs wobbled with every step. They both felt as if they could fall down, anytime.

Tubbo’s arm was looped around Tommy’s, content to be in the presence of his best friend, without the responsibility of the world on either of their shoulders’. Other players had barely batted an eye at the two- it wasn’t uncommon for teenagers or children to server hop by themselves. Nor for someone passing through a world hub to have outlandish and otherworldly scars. For them to both be teenagers, and scarred so heavily- well, that was a different story.

Still, not a soul stopped them as the tall blond led his friend to a nearby empty portal. As they stood still, Tubbo instinctively released his arm from the boy. Tommy kept Tubbo grounded to him as he worked, talking idly to them and inquiring about build plans. As Tubbo talked, Tommy quickly fidgeted with his communication tablet.

The thin, hovering device was pressed against the large obsidian frame of an otherwise normal, unlit portal.  Pressing out of his inventory, which by mandatory was empty, Tommy opened his server list. The individually named servers popped up. 

Some servers were empty, others grayed out and unavailable, no longer tended to. Muscle memory brought him to Dream SMP.  The status of the server was buffering- it’s availability of connection unclear. It wasn’t unusual- not for world hubs filled with tens of thousands of players at any given time.

With their SMP selected, the portal flickered for a moment- sparks of neon green rippling within, before quickly fading. The whooshes and crackling of a portal being lit, before failing, caught Tubbo’s ears.

“Uh...Is- is the portal good? Did it light? Why does it feel like it’s uh- not?” They tilted his head to the side, towards Tommy. The blond paused for a moment, blinking in bewilderment with his brows furrowed. “No- no it’s not lit..Uh.. What the shit? Hold on, Tubbo-” he huffed, pulling his tablet off the obsidian wall with ease to inspect it.

Blue eyes squinted at the screen. At the edge of the selection for Dream SMP, was an error sign, much to Tommy’s slight horror. “Fucking..Shit-” he hissed, pressing the icon. “‘Server closed for maintence’- what the fuck!” The teen spat. That got a few heads turned him, at his shouts. Most continued walking, merely giving him a wary glance.

Tubbo’s mouth dropped, scrambling for words. “Wh- why? I- I mean, I guess it makes sense- the- the server’s been acting up, and stuff- but- with what noticed?” He squawked, fumbling with their own device. Gliding their hand over the graphics, each thing he touched was read aloud to him quietly in his comm systems.

While Tubbo worked on locating his own messages, Tommy already found his. He scoffed indignantly, his hand clenching at the frame of the tablet. “The chat system for the server’s down too! Holy shit, fucking- what? Were no one fucking prepared for if we all get knocked out of the server at once? What the fuck!” Slight panic edged into his angered words as he shouted.

“Guess not,” Tubbo shrugged, pushing his tablet away, already frustrated with it. “Did Dream send out any sort of alert, for this?” Tommy only scoffed. The brunnett was sure he was rolling his eyes, as well. “Yeah, with a three-minute fuckin’ notice!  Just told everyone to figure it out for themselves, while he fixed shit! What a lil bitch!”

Glares were most certainly being sent towards them by now, Tubbo was sure. Gently pressing himself against the visibly upset and angered boy, he looped their arms back together, reassuringly squeezing his hand.. “We should get out of the way. I’m sure other people are waiting, there’s nothing we can do.” The brunett resigned himself to being the level-headed one between them.

“We can’t just fucking stay here, Tubbo! We ain’t got shit to eat, or anything. It’s not exactly like we thought of packing shit for a few hours of practicing!” The boy protested. He had just gotten L’manburg back, finally, a place he and his Tubbo were okay.

After a moment of silence, Tubbo would speak up once more. “I started installing some more, uh..Hack clients-” “TUBBO WHAT THE SHIT!” “Please, I’d really like to not get in major trouble today.” They’d wince, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. The feeling of stares lingered on his back.

“I got a client that should let me into the world last opened on a portal- which, in this case, should be Dream’s server. So we can get on there and- “Call Dream a dick.”

“Exactly. I wouldn’t think it’s dangerous, or unstable or anything to be there..I’m sure he and the rest of Dream Team are there.”

Walking back to the portal, guiding Tubbo back with him, Tommy unattached his own device from the frame. “Uh, want me to put yours on the portal? Or do you got it, Big Man?” The blond tilted his head towards the other boy expectantly.

Dipping their head in thought for a moment, Tubbo hummed. “You can do it. It’s all set up- besides I already turned my text-to-speech off, I was getting a headache from the voice.”  They decided, handing off his tablet to Tommy.

Within moments, Tommy had gotten it set up. Rather than having an individual server selected, the “Connect” button had been highlighted as seen as he reached his friend’s serverlist. 

A flurry of colors splashed within the portal, before settling on a distorting purple. Tommy squinted, glancing towards Tubbo. “That..Does not look like Dream’s server color.” Tubbo tilted his head curiously. “Well.. The site did say it could do that- It’s kinda just ripping the IP and plugging it in illigitmently- it’s incapable of displaying the correct resource, basically.” He played with his friend’s sleeve idly.

“..Fucking- alright, sure. Assuming this is safe- are you ready to hop in?” He pushed down any doubts. Really, nothing worse than what the two already lived through could happen. Tubbo grinned, nodding their head. And so, Tommy led the boy into the portal alongside him. Swirling particles filled his vision, as they flurried around the two- and then they were stumbling to the ground.

Tommy’s eyes shot opened- a dull, thudding pain in the back of his head, as he got his footing. Tubbo was doing the same, losing his hold on Tommy to lean against the portal frame to catch himself.  “...Well. Fuck.” Tommy hissed, rubbing his temple as he looked around the room.

The large portal behind them had dropped them into a large, pyramid-shaped room. The floor below them was sandy, greenery and bookshelves pressed against the walls. Tommy’s mouth dropped to the floor as he viewed ahead of him.

“W-What the fuck! What the shit these people- th-there’s just! Diamond armor!  On display - t-they have fucking elytras!  Holy fucking shit! ” He stammered out the words, his brows furrowed together in complete bewilderment.

“What? That’s insane!..This- this sounds like an ocean? Why can I hear water? Are we on an island?” Tubbo warily stepped, testing his footing.

Tommy instinctively reached back to grab his friend’s hand protectively, nodding vigorously. “I think we’re fuckin’ underwater, or some shit! There’s a water column, and- and the walls fuckin’ tilt, and then it’s all water and shit! The ceiling is just the ocean!”

..Descriptions never seemed to be Tommy’s strong suit. Nonetheless, Tubbo nodded along to the words, warily listening. All that could be heard was the crashing water overhead the water-bound structure. The boy shivered with unease at this.

“Are there any players? Did- did us joining get sent through the comm system, do you think?” Tubbo summoned his comm’s back to his hands, but Tommy must’ve already had his out. “Fuckin- i’m still connected to Dream’s. It didn’t give me the option to look at whoever the fuck’s this is. Tommy growled, uneasiness and anxiety gnawing at him.

 And then, there was a flash of light and particles. A man in a..Bee-themed, space/futuristic-Esque suit appears on the other side of the room. Another, far more mundane seeming man, manifested next to him.

The energy in the room shifted to something unfamiliar to the two teens. Tubbo shivered, desperately grasping tighter at Tommy. The blond boy had stood rigid, blue eyes cold and wary as he stared challengingly at the two strangers.

While the helmeted, bee-colored man visibly had plates of enchanted Netherite glittering on him, the human beside him was bare of any protection, defenses, or armor.   The teen didn’t know what to make of either of them.

Pacifyingly holding up a weaponless hand, the helmet man cleared his throat. “We weren’t particularly expecting visitors, or any surprise drop-ins this late to our season.” Their voice wasn’t accusatory, but it certainly edged on the skeptical side

From the yellow-tinted helmet, Tommy could barely make out a faint reflection of light in purple eyes. His throat felt full of vile, the blond boy practically growling as he held he pushed himself in front of Tubbo.

In retaliation, Tubbo gently shouldered the boy before poking out beside him, facing vaguely towards the man who spoke. “I’m sorry for him- this..This is an accident, uh, Sir.” They chuckled anxiously.

The helmeted man- who by now, Tommy had presumed was the admin- tilted his head. “While accidents aren’t necessarily uncommon on a server such as ours- one quite like this, so far into our progress certainly is.” The Southern fellow beside the bee-helmet man spoke up, his expression passive and at ease as he stared over the boys.

“You two don’t look like you’re here to give us issues- don’t you agree, X?” The helme-  X,  apparently- surveyed the two teenagers for a moment more, before nodding. “Good, then.” The human(?) smiled, dipping his head.

Tommy scoffed, glaring at the man.  “Where the fuck are we?” The blond’s eyes flickered between the two adults stood opposite of them. While the man remained unphased, glancing expectantly at X- said player took a step back, tilting their head.

“Well, considering there’s not really a way to  accidentally derp your way into here- I’d expect you’d know.” While X wasn’t unkind, his tone was expectant. Accusatory, maybe. 

Before Tommy could open his mouth to blabber and cover their asses, Tubbo put his arm out in front of the other. “It really was an..An accident- it wasn’t this server we were trying to get into- wherever we are.” He’d chuckle uneasily, shifting their weight. They weren’t sure what to make of their unknown surroundings.

“Our home-server seems to be down.. And- no one told us where to go,  so I said i knew a way we might be able to go back, and uh..It got us here.”  They’d finish, anxiety spiking as he was unable to gauge their reaction.

“Yeah- and we’re not gonna fuckin’ do shit. We don’t even know where the fuck we are. Just- leave us be!  Or send us back, or some shit-” “Alright, alright! Hey, we’re not fighting with you!” X would cut off Tommy, who’s blue eyes shot a cold glare to the slightly frazzled man.

The younger Brit couldn’t help but get amusement from the way the masked man was so visibly startled from his swears. “You two..Don’t particularly look in the condition to just.. stay in the World Hub. Do you have someplace else to go? How long have you been locked out?” 

Beside the apparent Admin, who had not-so-subtly manifested a transparent screen in front of him, the human looked in exasperated amusement at the helmeted fellow. “Forgetting something there, Shashwammy?” The Southern man spoke with fondness.

Before the admin could react, the man turned back towards the accidental intruders. “You’re in the wonderful world of hermits and crafting, my friends! Hermitcraft Seven, to be specific. I’m Joe, of the Hills variety- and this is my pal, Xisumavoid! Though he’ll likely go by just about anything you can think to call him.”

Tommy looked beside him at Tubbo for a moment, his brows pinched together as he quietly scoffed. This is gonna get really tiring if he talks like this all the time. The blond thought absentmindedly.

In the meantime, Tubbo himself was speechless- positively bursting at the seams. “Hermitcraft?! This is Hermitcraft? Oh, oh void I just broke into Hermitcraft-” They babbled for a moment, jittering as he attempted to compose himself. Tommy raised a brow, eyeing them. 

“You say that as if that means fuckin’ anything to me, Tubbo-”

“I. I’m so sorry, uh, Mr. Hills, Mr. Void!” Their voice cracked, as the words ran out of his mouth. “I swear this isn’t something we do on the regular, I’d never want to disrespect anyone, or any server- especially not Hermitcraft!” He’d continue, laughing anxiously. 

“I’m a huge fan of the work done here! Just, everything I’ve seen- uh, and, and heard, about the Hermits! Fu- frick. Uh. Sorry!”  Tubbo finished, practically panting. 

While Joe had seemed appreciative and amused, Tommy couldn’t get a read on Xisuma. Not that he particularly cared what either of them felt; he barely understood the meaning of the words from Tubbo, all that mattered was they weren’t about to belittle the other boy.

“Mr. Void.. That- that might be a new one-” The British admin had quietly chuckled easily, shaking his head. “No, no need for that. I’m Xisuma, or X. I’m glad you appreciate our work, the Hermits around here work non-stop. And we’d be glad to try and help you two, yes?”

“We don’t fuckin’ need help- We stay here, or we don’t. We don’t need pity or some shit. If you’re gonna get all fussy at the fuckin’ idea of us staying in the Worldhub, then just leave us be here, I guess. We don’t need anyone’s help or charity.” Tommy growled, his arms crossed stubbornly. He could hear Tubbo sharply inhale beside him, weakly nudging at his side.

The two inhabitants, Hermits, Tommy mused, seemingly shared a look for a moment. Tommy’s blue eyes were unyielding from them, as Tubbo’s quiet babble of scolding went through deaf ears.

Slowly nodding, the helmeted admin stepped back. “You two don’t have anywhere you could go?” He’d ask, hesitantly. Tommy glanced beside him, at the short, blinded boy. Blue from Ghostbur weakly stained his hands.

No one else outside of Dream SMP had learned about Wilbur’s fate, not yet. That certainly wasn’t a conversation either of them was willing to have yet, with anyone. Dream would be mad. Dream would be furious if word got out on the nature of his server. 

With that thought, Tommy tore his gaze away from his friend. The boy stared as close as he could to the Admin’s eyes, a challenging look in his hardened blue eyes. “Nowhere.”

Xisuma conceded, nodding. “Fine, then.” He agreed, his tone far softer than it had any right to be, from such an imposing figure. Tommy pondered for a moment if the Admin was taller than him. The possibility made Tommy feel all the more disdain towards him.

Tommy tilted his head, watching expectantly. “Well then? Can we just be- be fuckin’ left here, or some shit? We don’t need to be babysat.” “Tommy, please, don’t pick a fight here-” “Yeah, yeah, Tubbo..”

Xisuma winced, nodding. “Sure.. If you want to be left alone, that’s fine. There’s Elytras’ in the room behind us, and rockets in the chest. That’s the only way to get out, besides from the Nether. It should be linked to our Netherhub, so you shouldn’t have too big of a trouble, yeah?”

Tubbo hesitantly nodded, his grip tight around Tommy’s hand. “Alright, then.” Xisuma nodded, glancing towards Joe. Tommy had all but forgotten the man was there, the Southerner having been quietly observing them.  “Joe, you’re free to go, my friend.”

To Tommy’s perspective, Joe certainly seemed to have some reservations. Whether they were about leaving teenagers unattended or leaving strangers in their server, the blond wasn’t sure. Nonetheless, Joe accepted his fate, nodding breezily before enderpearling his way out of the spawn.

Xisuma turned back to the two, one final time. Tommy didn’t miss the way that Xisuma flinched at Tubbo’s large scars, nearly growling when he saw the admin’s reaction.

“You two have been competing in MCC.” That caught Tubbo, off-guard. The brunnett’s brows furrowed together, tilting his head. “Huh? How do you know that-”

“My Hermits have been competing there for a good while. I need to keep track of them all, I haven’t missed the team announcements.” Xisuma explained breezily, something akin to fondness in his tone. “The other Hermits said that they love MCC, and the other participants. And that they trust almost all of them- don’t take advantage of that, alright?”

Quietly scoffing, Tommy looked away. Beside him, Tubbo nodded. “We’ll try- thank you. For letting us stay here, just for now.”

Despite the situation, Tubbo couldn’t help but feel slightly giddy at the idea of being in a Hermitcraft world. He hadn’t been able to hear about, or see anything about their recent achievements in a long while.

“If you need anything, don’t be afraid to ask. I’ll add you two to the communication connection. Most of the Hermits have a..Tendency of getting themselves in trouble, quite a bit. Don’t be alarmed if someone spawns, they’re almost never here long enough to be dragged in,” He spoke casually, easily. Tommy wondered for a moment what exactly their definition of trouble was.

“Someone will be here to check on you, soon. Don’t get yourselves hurt, please. We’re happy to help here.” He continued, glancing between the two. Tubbo fidgetted, nodding numbly, as he could practically hear Tommy roll his eyes beside him.

Quiet mechanical whirring buzzed as holographic, shimmering bee-like wings expanded behind him.  “Good, then.” Xisuma dipped his head, before familiar red-and-white rockets appeared in his hands.

Before Tommy could lung to cover Tubbo’s ears, Xisuma had already taken off. White particles were left behind him, but the expected boom never came, merely a small pop and smoke. The sight of them, nonetheless, couldn’t help but leave a bitter taste in Tommy’s mouth.

While Tubbo was visibly startled, cringing and nearly tumbling over, he didn’t feel his chest constricting the way it usually would, typically. They’d both consider it a win, for now. Tubbo fell over into Tommy’s arm, as his best friend pulled him into a side hug.

They both slid down against the wall. The conversation alone had taken out all remaining energy they had left in them. Tommy’s gaze surveyed his friend for a moment. “So,” He said pointedly, Tubbo lifting his head to face him.

“What the fuck was that, and what the hell is Hermitcraft?”

[thearvariblues]

The Real Loki Always Chokes Me

Sooo... I might have actually written a fic for @zombieporno​‘s prompt from... last week, I guess. Except that my brain only managed the first part, since I don't have the patience for the asshole avoiding Tony. Bear with me, writing this took me a week. :D I might write an alternate version of this when he does avoid him, though - when I find my patience again, and maybe stop spending my evenings playing Witcher 3 instead of writing. :D

But until then... enjoy this, I guess?

*

Contrary to popular belief, Tony Stark didn’t really enjoy being a superhero. Well, yes, he enjoyed some parts of it, but others he kind of hated.

Like being dragged out of his workshop (when he was getting so fucking close to finding the solution for the problem that had been on his mind for two weeks now) by yet another attempt at world domination.

Though, to be fair, their current opponent wasn’t really trying to sit on the ruler-of-the-whole-world’s throne anymore. He was more or less just being an annoying piece of shit, probably just wanting to have some fun while he was stuck here in ‘Midgard’ as he insisted on calling it.

It was Loki, of course.

For the past five months, it had always been Loki. Almost as if he had bribed all the other villains not to attack.

Since his ‘having fun’ mostly consisted of robbing quite a few banks by teleporting in and out of them, he very well might have had. The guy would soon get richer than Tony himself.

“So what’s our drama queen done this time?” Tony asked as they took off in the quinjet. “Please don’t tell me it’s a dildo rain again.”

“I’ve told you a million times, we don’t call it a dildo rain,” Steve growled.

“It was literally raining dildos, Cap, what do you want to call it?” Clint smirked.

“I… I don’t know, and it doesn’t matter. It’s not dildo rain today, so could we just stop talking about it?”

“Sounds like someone should have stolen one of those dildos and taken it home,” Natasha chuckled. “Like Tony did.”

“Like Tony what?!” Bruce blinked.

“What?” Tony shrugged. “Purely technically, Loki stole my credit card and used it to pay for all those… toys.”

“It’s worse somehow when you call them toys instead of dildos,” Steve sighed.

“Yeah, well. They were paid for with my money. So they were mine, weren’t they? I could have taken all of them instead of like… five most interesting.”

“My brother would be delighted to hear someone takes pleasure in his mischief,” Thor commented.

“Oh, yes. Lots and lots of pleasure.”

“Guys. Stop,” Bruce said, clearly fighting a chuckle. “I think Cap’s about to start crying…”

*

It really wasn’t a dildo rain this time. It was more of a… Loki rain. Or a Loki avalanche.

It was a few hundreds of perfect clones of Loki annoying the living daylights out of everyone they could find. They disappeared upon being touched, yes, but they were also extremely good at avoiding being touched in the first place.

As the team found out when Hulk ran straight through three of the clones and into the building behind them. This incident made Tony stop trying to assess the damage and give JARVIS an instruction to just pay for everything the idiots manage to destroy while ‘saving the world’.

Then he proceeded to turn off his comm, fly up to the roof of the nearest high building and just watch the spectacle underneath. Cap would give him hell for that, he was sure, but he kind of didn’t care.

“And what in Hel’s name are you doing here?” asked a growling voice just a few seconds after he had landed.

Tony turned around, let his helmet fold down and cocked an eyebrow.

“Oh, look, a clone Loki. Hey. How you doing?”

The Loki in front of him frowned, tilting his head.

“You’re supposed to be fighting the clones.”

“Nah. Too boring,” Tony shrugged. “You make Loki disappear. Turn around, another Loki. And look, another. Loki, Loki, Loki.”

“That’s the point,” the clone hissed.

“Yeah, I got that much. But hey, look, even though you’re all hot as fuck, the battle isn’t particularly amusing, you know?”

Loki blinked, so puzzled that Tony almost felt sorry for the clone.

“Hot as…” the clone whispered under his breath.

“Yeah, I mean… God, I hope you’re not connected to the real Reindeer Games. Fuck. If you are, can we pretend I never said what I said? I tend to let my mouth talk without my brain controlling it.”

“Connected to the real…” the clone gave an ugly chuckle. “I am the real Loki!”

Now it was Tony’s turn to frown and tilt his head.

“Nah,” he said after a long inspection. “You’re not. Haven’t tried to kill me yet. Not even to choke me. The real Loki always chokes me.”

The clone’s face went completely blank at that.

“Uhm… Hey?” Tony said after a few seconds of silence. “Did I actually manage to break a clone? Error 503: Brain Unavailable?”

The clone shook his head, probably to clear it, and took a step towards Tony.

“You idiot,” he growled. “You impossible mortal. I will crush you underneath my heel, you–”

“See? Now you sound like the real stuff!” Tony grinned. “Just a little angrier… That’s it! Perfect. Now to the crushing, while I’m not exactly into hard BDSM, I do like to get a liiittle kinky… Uhm, back to the question, you really aren’t connected to Loki himself, are you?”

“I am Loki!” the clone snarled.

“Yeah, we’ve been through this. The choking, baby. Except you can’t. Because you can’t touch me. Because if you touch me, poof, you’re gone.”

“Are you asking me to prove to you that I am real?”

“Yup. Indulge me.”

“As you wish.”

A split second later, Tony felt a very real and totally non-disappearing hand close around his throat and he came to a realization that he had made a terrible, terrible mistake.

But before he could utter the words ‘Don’t kill me, it was just a joke’, or even a mere ‘Oh, fuck’, Loki’s lips crashed against his in a wild and passionate and hungry kiss.

Tony’s brain stopped working for a second. Or two. Maybe even ten. Because when he came back to his senses, Loki was just pulling away, breathing heavily, his face a perfect mask of horror.

“Wow,” Tony gasped, licking his lips. “I know I said indulge me, but I haven’t expected that. If I say I’m not entirely convinced yet, can I have more?”

Loki’s eyes went even wider at that, and then he disappeared in a flash of green light.

“Okay,” Tony nodded. “I take that as a no. Shame, really.”

A look down to the street revealed that all the clones were gone, too.

Right. Time to go home.

*

It had been four days since the whole clones-and-kissing incident and if Tony was to be honest, he kind of couldn’t stop thinking about it. Well, he could – but the thought was always somewhere at the back of his mind, always ready to show up and remind him that hey, Loki, as in Thor’s brother Loki, as in the wannabe-world conqueror, kissed you and you liked it.

And he did. Very much.

That was why he didn’t mind when he walked into his penthouse only to find said god sitting on his couch and reading a book.

A fucking book.

“Uhm,” Tony commented. “JARVIS?”

“I tried to alert you, sir,” the AI said. “Two hours ago. But you told me to, I quote, shut the fuck up, J, or you’re gonna spend the rest of your days in a fucking elevator, calling out the number of the floor. End quote.”

“You might have said it was… urgent,” Tony muttered as Loki looked up from his book and smirked.

“I really don’t wish to spend the rest of my days in an elevator, sir.”

“Right,” Tony nodded. “Hey, Lokitty. How you doing? J, I’m gonna need an armor at the ready.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Loki said and the book he was holding promptly disappeared. “I came to apologize, Stark.”

“Uhm… For what? I mean, there’s a long list of things you should be apologizing for, so let’s be specific there. Drink?” he asked, already heading for the kitchen.

“The kiss.”

That actually made Tony stop dead in his tracks. He frowned, turned around and stared at Loki.

“As in I’m sorry I ever kissed you, or…”

Loki sighed, avoiding his gaze. Tony realized the god wasn’t wearing his usual armor – only a pair of simple black jeans and a loose, long-sleeved green T-shirt. He looked… weirdly normal. Almost like a human.

“Oh, dear. No. Never,” Loki said, a corner of his lip twitching. “But I shouldn’t have done it without your permission.”

“Seriously?” Tony laughed, taking a step towards the couch. “You’re apologizing because you didn’t ask for consent first?”

“Well… Yes. It was inappropriate. Improper. Brutish.”

“It wasn’t that bad,” Tony said, sitting next to Loki without really thinking about it. “I mean… It’s not perfect, I’ll give you that, but do you see me complaining?”

Loki kept staring anywhere but at Tony.

“I’m not some kind of an animal, unable to control my impulses…”

Tony’s brain kept trying to alert him that this was Loki, who was very much wild and unpredictable and, yeah, sometimes even unable to control his impulses. But Tony didn’t listen. Because this wild and unpredictable deity was just sitting there, biting his lower lip and apologizing for something as simple as a kiss.

“Impulses?” Tony repeated after him. “Sorry, just to be perfectly clear, was the impulse a one-off thing, or something you’d like to, perhaps… happen again?”

Loki’s eyes flicked to Tony’s, then to his lips, then up again, and away.

“I should go,” the god said. “I shouldn’t have come. It was stupid of me–”

“Or…” Tony murmured, his own eyes straying to Loki’s lips. His brain was screaming at him to stop, but Tony wouldn’t listen. He’d always been bad at controlling his impulses. “Or you could try again.”

“Anthony, are you seriously suggesting…”

“Fuck,” Tony whispered, a shiver running down his spine. He could have sworn that he hated his full name, but when he heard it from Loki’s lips like this… “Say that again.”

The god’s green eyes were so close and so full of longing that it took all of Tony’s willpower not to simply crash their lips together.

“May I… May I kiss you, Anthony?” Loki smiled.

“Yes,” Tony hissed. “Please. Yes.”

This kiss wasn’t wild and passionate and hungry. It was calm. Sweet. Loving.

And long.

Very… very long.

*

“Six months!” Steve growled. “Loki hasn’t been seen for six months. No attacks, no robberies, no showing-off, nothing. Thor isn’t even sure his brother is still on Earth!”

“I said I think he is,” Thor specified. “But it’s possible that he isn’t.”

Except that Tony knew perfectly well that Thor knew too damn well where Loki was at the moment, having visited the god only a few hours ago.

“Come on, don’t make a big deal out of it,” Clint sighed. “Maybe he’s just grown bored of us.”

“You? Maybe. Me? Never,” Tony smirked. “Everybody knows I’m amusing as hell and completely irresistible even to Norse gods!”

“And so very modest, too,” Natasha added. “But I’m with Clint – I think Loki’s just had enough. He might be back in the future, but for now, we should enjoy not having to see his fucking magic tricks every other day.”

“Agreed,” Bruce nodded. “I don’t think there’s a bigger plan. Just Loki being Loki.”

“I’d like to point out that even before his disappearance, Loki was mainly just causing mischief. I mean, we were the ones who did the most damage during his last, uhm… attack?” Tony shrugged.

“What if he just wanted to lull us into a false sense of security?” Steve asked. “While he prepares for something big?”

Tony sighed and shot a quick look at Thor.

“What do you think, Point Break? Does your baby bro have a great sinister plan to murder us all, or does he just have better things to do than being an annoying little shit?”

“The latter, I’d say,” Thor smiled, because he knew he was right. Loki did have better things to do. Tony, for a start.

And reading.

And watching sci-fi movies and TV shows.

And yelling “That’s not how space works!” at the TV.

Also cooking. Which was something he was surprisingly good at.

And studying all the ancient tomes and spellbooks Thor managed to sneak out of Asgard. There were a lot of those. So many that Tony had to transform a spare room into a study.

And if he was bored, he could always do Tony again. Of course.

Or, well, cause some minor mischief all around the Tower – like hiding Clint’s arrows in weird and random places, replacing Bruce’s herbal tea with mate (and then sulking when Tony spend the whole night in the lab with hyperactive Bruce, working on a project), making the elevator stop working so everyone had to take the stairs…

Or the thing he was doing just now, which was kneeling right in front of Tony, naked from waist up and undoubtedly invisible to everyone but him, stroking the inventor’s thighs not with his hands, but with his magic, slowly getting closer and closer to his crotch...

Tony drummed his fingers on the table and got to his feet.

“Alright, so are we agreed that Loki isn’t dangerous at the moment and his sudden disappearance doesn’t mean he’s got some nefarious secret plan?”

“Agreed,” Natasha said before Cap could even open his mouth.

“Good. If you’ll excuse me now, I gotta go. I also have better things to do.”

Loki, for a start.

The second the elevator door slid closed behind them, Tony felt a pair of hot lips on his neck.

“Let me guess. You got bored?” he chuckled before sighing softly.

“Very much so,” Loki purred. “And don’t even try to pretend that you were having fun, my love.”

“It wasn’t about having fun, sweetie. It was about you being… Oh, god, right there, Loki… It was about you being a threat to all of humanity and…”

“Oh, please. I’ve only been a threat to your fridge and alcohol stash lately.”

“And my poor T-shirts. I’m still waiting for you to find the pocket dimension where you hid the Black Sabbath one, you know.”

“That was one accident, Anthony! And it wasn’t exactly my fault. To think that they call me Silvertongue…”

“Flattery will get you nowhere,” Tony murmured, burying his fingers in Loki’s soft, curly hair. “I still want it back.”

“I’ll look for it, I promise.” Loki’s long fingers found their way underneath Tony’s T-shirt. “When I’m done with you. But I promise to deal with all your clothes the non-magical, old-fashioned way in the meantime.”

“You’d better,” Tony said.

The elevator stopped in the penthouse. Loki took Tony’s hand and dragged him out, grinning.

“You know what, Anthony? I’m really glad I kissed you on that roof.”

Tony smiled back, his heart suddenly so full of affection that it was almost hard to breathe.

“Yeah, Lokes. So am I.”

[iamtheempress]

Lets Talk

She nursed a nice bruise on her face in the bathroom, one that bloomed from her cheek to the top of her brow, extending a green fingertip to her cheek to heal it slowly, hopefully bringing back some natural skin tone to her cheek again.

 A normal practice for treating her wounds all her life, all while keeping herself awake and conscious with an energy drink that was half empty and the ever present feeling of anticipation. The source of anticipation lingering on that phone beside her, a burner phone she bought at the beginning of the day.

Chiaki's eyes flickered to her burner phone right next to her, waiting for a reply from a face shed only met during a fight earlier that morning with her father. 

Heroes against Villains, that old fight that will seemingly never ever cease, she cant remember why the incident happened but she just knew that she and her father were first responders along with a handful of other heroes.

 She inspects the faded mark on her face and closes the door to the bathroom, quietly as to not wake her mother who had tried to quell her worried eldest daughter, Aoi had retired to bed about an hour ago… the media had picked up on the travesty of a fight that happened earlier that day. Causing a nasty uproar from civilians and the media alike.

It was everywhere, newspapers, radio stations, the internet and she can hear the newscaster announce it clearly. "Pro Hero Witch is in the Literal Hot Seat today, is she someone we need to keep an eye on? Her power was in full effect keeping a fifteen-story building from crushing her and her battered teammate, FullCharge. Who had beaten the negligent heroin enough to make her heal him, after she did this the building she was supporting fell upon her and 5 other civilian lives, after letting the villain come to know as Dabi escape-'' she turned off the tv sick and tired of hearing of how useless she’s been, the ensuing argument she had with her family left scars on her psyche she wouldn't bat an eyelash at, she couldn't care about her reputation when she let people die on her watch. 

Useless. Lazy. A joke. 

She let those 5 civilians die so callously, she didn't know them and yet she doesn't feel as bad, atleast not right now. Casualties are a norm for heros, right?

The icing on the cake was to hear the media call her that word negatively again. 

Witch… 

A name she used to take her power back from a horrible nickname in her childhood. Now once again weighing on her like chains to the floor.

 She walked to bed holding the phone and lamenting, falling to her bed with a resounding flop.. It's her fault.. she let Dabi go, and everyone saw it.

 She let everyone down and even had her phone blown up by her friends. She turned her attention to the group chat and took a peek from behind the iron curtain of guilt. Bakugou's name was the first to catch her eye.

Bakugou: Chili. Hey dumbass answer us! We have been trying to call you all day and you leave us on read. Answer us goddammit! We don't want to confront you ourselves and see what your deal is but we will if you don't answer us for the rest of the night.

Midoriya: We will give you another 30 and we're coming over, we promise we're not going to gang up on you, Chili…That wouldn't be right. 

Chiaki: How can i trust that, you all saw my situation, no one did a damn thing to help me, i get im also the healer but that includes people defending me in order to heal at a distance or else I HAVE THE TARGET on me. I cant face any of you. 

Bakugou, Izuku, Shouto and more are typing…

She wept rubbing her eyes with her sleeve and making her tear up. Out of everyone… she assumed someone would understand but they all seemed to give her the same look, it made her heart stop. Once again she's the bad guy in a situation she lost control over. With guilt in her heart, she recalled the last moments before he got away. 

Dabi got her father off of her. No hesitation, blasted him clean off of her with enough force it could have singed her head to toe, but he didn’t. She went to get up and saw her father immolated in blue flames as she turned to see the same man she was sent to apprehend was standing fixed about 10 feet from her, his eyes trained solid on her. She looks up at the buildinh started to grown from the integrity being lost from the fight, it began to collapse down on them until she suspended it above the both of them, mere feet from his head; they stared at one another like deer in headlights. A sinister smirk spread across his features before disappearing from her view, in the kick up of dirt and rubble, 

Chiaki couldn’t bring herself to apprehend him. 

Why..? Did he see the desperation in her eyes or the fact that she barely had a leg to stand on when her own father took her down a size, when he saw insubordination over saving herself and not her father who was completely fine? Or was there another ulterior motive to keeping her alive?

Upon trying to close her eyes, and hopefully forget about this whole day.  

The burner phone buzzed to life. 

The screen could have been the brightest thing in the room, a beacon in the night beckoning her. Distant thunder rumbled to indicate the dire decision she's made, as well as a storm that was approaching.

 Her heart stopped, she lifted the phone slightly and slid her thumb over the screen. To see the text message from an unavailable number. 

“How is that eye feeling, Witch?” 

The text read, her fingers flew across the keyboard. 

“It’s been better, I fixed it up. Is this really Dabi?” upon sending the message the text came up as read. Is she really thinking of doing this… he messaged her back quickly. “Maybe I am, I have seen the news today and that shot of you and I standing before the building collapsed on us was cinematic so I have to give you props for that. I’m guessing the reason you wanted to speak to me was not make pleasantries and talk about our days.” 

“You want to join the League.” 

There it is. The question that lain heavily upon her mind. Shed never considered it as much as she has recently. The ridicule of her graduating class, her power seen as something not all heroes should use for good. She proved time and time again how she is not something to worry about.. But here she was.. Being abused and taken advantage of by the people she cared for. 

“Yes. I do.” She sent it with no hesitation and sat up in her bed looking down upon the phone, he made quick work of messaging her back, again. 

“We havent recruited anyone worth our time in a while. From what I saw recently as well as today. We were considering reaching out to you..but this works much better. Meet tonight?” Her golden eyes widened and her mouth popped open out of sheer shock. “Around what time? Ill be there” She stands up, with a loud crack of lightning the rain poured outside, she cursed and saw a location pop up on her phone.

An old and run down apartment complex outside of city limits. “Now. Get going. Text me when you're close.” Chiaki sprung out of bed without a second thought. Redressing herself in simple attire, something to not be seen on the streets so easily especially at night. Black leggings, worn in combat boots her mother gave her, a large black hoodie and that burner phone.

 While tying her hair up in a bun she saw her phone, the one with her best friends messaging her… and Midoriya’s name front and center..

Izuku: “Hey, cmon, Chili. We know you’re there.. We saw what happened and we want to know if your alright…We can see you reading our messages”

Izuku: What happened with your dad wasn't right but something doesn't add up from that fight, Chili.”

Bakugou: “It makes just as little sense to me too dumbass! Why did he spare you and go for FullCharge.”

Bakugou: “You better not have done something youll regret dumbass we cant lose you!”

Kiri: “I already have Shouto were on our way to talk to you, Spooky, were not mad..”

Her heart stopped in her throat as she started typing to them. She could see them all stop typing in unison. 

“Theres nothing to talk about. You all have made up your mind about me..i can see it. I sound like im just a problem to all of you. Consider me gone.” Chiaki tossed her old phone to the bed and scrawled a note. 

“I loved you all.. I'm sorry I'm not who you wanted me to be.”

With one message her phone began to blow up. Without looking back, she was gone. Hopping from her window to the road below with a splash into a puddle and starting her jog, leaving the only home she's known her whole damn life, as well as leaving her hero life behind her.

About a solid 30 minutes later she noticed she saw the buildings become more and more dilapidated marked with graffiti as sirens shrieked down streets and seedy characters crept behind alleyways, the city limits were within a mile away, and so was the old apartment building. 

Impatient and eager to meet him face to face, she messaged him.. "About a block or two away." she pulled her hood up as she exited a mini markets awning that was closed, rain started to shower down upon her, her light hair hidden beneath the oversized hood, the old marquis sign coming into sight. 

The phone vibrated in her pocket, Chiaki pulled it out and the words shone bright across her face. “You better not be some spy.. I won’t be too happy. So in your best interest, i'd be 100% transparent with me.”  She texts back quickly. “I am an open book and got little to hide.”

The text was read and the old marquis was above her, “No turning back now… the guys will be looking for me in no time.” She said to herself and entered the lobby of the closed apartment building, through the heavy wooden doors. It looked like it used to be grand but now it was so in disrepair that the wallpaper was torn back from walls and holes were created from years of neglect. 

Chiaki pulled her hood back and looked around, listening to the silence of the apartment, she took a breath and emanated a glow from her hands, her fingers and thumb lit up like bright green glow sticks.

From behind a darkened figure glided his scarred palm across the tattered wall approaching her slowly, he speaks up, cutting the silence and startling her. "Ah..There you are, you certainly didn't waste your time, Witch" she gasped and whipped around to see him, Dabi. She let out a nervous laugh and took a step forward, if she were not in this situation she wouldn't hesitate to take him down but this instance she felt on equal ground to him so she felt no threat.

 "I don’t dodge opportunities, especially ones like this, I would have contacted someone sooner but I wanted a reason to do this.. And you seemed like someone I wanted to contact first hand." Dabi approaches her until he is within mere feet of Chiaki, his feet shuffling with each stride, he's easily taller than her by more than a couple inches, being 5”2’ is sometimes a hindrance.

He blows air out of his nose with a laugh. “You were in luck then.. I had my eye on you for a while and finding intel for you was far more complicated than we expected. Chiaki Nakamura is it?”  one hand stuffed into his pants pocket and the other out to gesture towards her, his scarred hand fanned out, talking with his hands was natural for him to do it seems. His cyan blue eyes raking down her front and back to her eyes. Unblinking and just as dark and spellbinding as before, all the while being intensely overwhelming in every aspect physical. Chiaki’s heart bounced in her chest to her throat. 

His head lulls to the side.

 "Thats my name..” The young pro speaks softly, Dabi noticed the apprehension in her voice,"Oh are you nervous little Witch..?"  he didn't need her scurrying off or anything so he took to sauntering slowly around her, sizing her up like a hungry shark. She didn’t speak but caught his eyes through his black hair that curtained his eyes. “Just a bit but if i were any more scared i wouldn’t be here..” He looked upon her glowing green hands, it made her mildly conscious of the fact that they were shaking.

“Then my reputation precedes me even to fresh faces like you.” He says with a hoarse chuckle, he backs up with his arms spread open, she catches a glimpse of his long scarred arms, they flopped back down to his sides, She laughs gently in turn, her eyes fixed on his face, being this close she could see the gold sheen to the staples on his mouth and under his eyes. 

“If that nervous behavior is because you’re scared and having second thoughts about this.. And want to go back to playing around as a hero, i won't hesitate to fry you where you stand, but i'm hoping you're using that common sense of yours so i don't have to.” She listens intently, unwavering and dimming her hands back down, as to not allow her quirk to radiate outside the building.. Dabi’s mouth doesn’t even move beyond a normal straight line but his eyes say everything: He doesn’t see her as a stranger.. Despite this being their first time meeting amicably.

 “rest assured i won’t hurt you, from what I have seen already we need someone with a quirk like yours around, but when it comes to me bringing you back to the bar.. They won’t allow you in unless I check you for a wire, lift your arms.” He instructs and she lifts her arms just enough for him.

 His hands starting to traverse her arms and waist make her face swell with heat, a much more embarrassing position to be in… He was thorough and rough with the patdown, his face remained the same unchanging and stoic, her eyes trained on his face and the rough scars that covered the bottom portion of his face to the part directly under his tear ducts. Besides that he doesn't look bad.. The scars only add that intense look to him, the reason why people were scared of his looks. 

“I wanted to know something..” She caught his attention with a low hum, his brow raising and his lips curling upward. “What was the deal with you getting my father off of me..why didnt you attack me.” His hands finished patting down her body and he tuts her pulling the burner phone from her pocket.

 “You see.. That moment was televised and the moments leading up were not, and if they were, they didn't televise your abuse period or the reason behind it. It was pretty tragic, I heard your father's harsh words.. even more brutal pounding id say, he blocked all of your defences, your little friends didn't come for your rescue, they stood around." She stood stock still listening to him,

"Our Pro Hero lil Witch being ‘saved’ by me when i had enough of seeing someone who is more useful then her partners let on, being beaten to a pulp, and then when things seemed to be working in your favor and the fabled heroes would have gotten me, you in turn...stopped an entire highrise building from squishing me to death.” He leans forward and drops his voice an octave, dipping into a form of seductive and joking. 

“Kinda humiliating isn’t it? Being saved by a well known villain isn't really what the public wants to see.." he shrugs and steps back looks down at his palm, his long fingers moving around trying to catch her attention like he could light a flame at any moment,  with the other hand in his pocket. "I saw someone who needed help in more ways than one.” Her eyes widened as he stuffed the phone into his pocket “I saw someone who I had my eye on for a while being beaten for not doing something as useful as aiding her teammate… and for her own safety right?” He questions as he leans back against the wall adjacent to her.

 “Yeah.. that's right.. How do you know all that? I mean like, not alot of people know that about my quirk, i cant heal at a distance and provide backup unless i have backup...” He snaps his fingers and points at her. “Exactly my point. Your dear old dad didn't take his much more volatile daughter into account and only used you as a support to him, fueling his ego and making you look bad to the rest of the world.” his demeanor was so foreign to her, he spoke so eloquently and with conviction, a sadistic and perverse form of understanding that drew her in like a super magnet.

 She stood blanched, thunderstruck by how he's describing the situation to her, It's like he's in her head reading every emotion as plain on her face. “Yes. He never took me seriously… as a hero.. No one really ever did.” Dabi's eyes softened as their eyes remained locked in a stare of...mutual understanding on his part… she knew little of his past or who he was, but the weight of not being good enough or a lost cause caused his fists to clench.. he not dare ask anything personal yet.. he has a job to do and earn her trust and read her and her situation like a book. Foreshadowing the type of person she was made to be over years of unfair treatment and situations outside of their control.

 “Getting closer.. Go on, Witch.” She swallowed air and kept spilling her guts..  “I use my quirk to even help anyone or… do something for the good of others and its never highlighted in the slightest, no job well done or whatever. No sort of fanfare or recognition, i come home and.. get judged and told I'm not as good as… as him, from him.” SHe clasps her hands together and opens them up again, Dabi’s eyes watching the little light show from her fingertips and then fade away again. The more his eyes looked to her hands the more he wanted to see the beautiful little auras again, it was then Dabi realized her quirk is easy to be triggered, or atleast constantly active. “But when… i do one thing thats out of character for a… normal pro hero… all eyes are on you..and I was treated like a...pariah” 

Dabi nods his head and his smooth voice lulled her ears “Understand now? They only want you when you're useful to them, you're treated as backup, but in the right hands you could be so much more..” Her head hung low, like she just discovered it, that despite her power and the fact shes equally as dangerous maybe even more so she's treated as lesser than everyone else. 

Dabi mentally kicked himself, making such a pretty face sulk and look dour, he couldn't just stand there and allow her to beat herself up over how others treat her. Dabi took a step forward to her and found himself raising his hand to her chin and made her look right up at him, her chin betwixt the pads of his forefinger and thumb. “Come on now… don't be so down on yourself, they might see you as only an asset and a tool to use and expand upon themselves, as nothing more then a battery that never quits, but with us, you can reach a version of yourself you have never seen before.. And we can help you with that. We will make sure you surpass your expectations'' She caught herself staring. 

Eyes glazed over in tears that threatened to fall, and with a blink they were gone. “Excuse my ignorance but… you're serious like you can do that?” She asked with trepidation and abit of excitement that she had to cage off to not seem too eager. 

“It's not a promise, Nakamura. Its a fact that is going to be a reality. Now..” He turned on his heel and gave them some distance in the lobby, he was almost shrouded in darkness. “Give me a demonstration on what you can do.” He instructs. 

Chiaki blinks and becomes blanched. A demonstration. In here? She clasps her hands together and pulls them apart that green glow emanating from her hands to her elbows, pretty gold and green eyes enveloped in pure green with irises, her hands splayed out fingers slowly dancing and expanding outward, like licks of fire.

 “Brace yourself.” She curled in her fingers to drain the energy from surrounding lights and power, making the environment for everyone else but her heavy and sluggish. Dabi had a bead of sweat roll down his face and a headache grow slowly. “And just as it was pulled away I can give it back on my own terms.” She points a manicured finger at Dabi. The headache vanishes without a trace and his energy restored , almost knocking him on his ass from the dizzying feeling of having the wind knocked into you.

 The lights and the power entirely shut down for a full block and the bulbs bust outside. She holds a ball of concentrated energy in her palm and absorbs it into her skin, a content smile spreading across her delicate features and bowing forward and standing back up straight.

 “Oh yeah, they're going to thank me for insisting you be our new recruit... Warn me before you use your quirk on me again, will you?” She snorts and cocks a brow up at him. “So.. do it again later and knock you on your ass?” Chiaki giggled, Dabi quizzically tilted his head and narrowed his eyes, as if he's breaking down her words in his head, he flipped his black hair from his face as chuckles amused.

 “I knew I liked you for a reason, sarcastic little thing. ” she blushes and covers her mouth embarrassed. “I think it would be smart if we left.. I don't know if my friends are out looking for me or not..and honestly i would rather not face them head on yet.. And i don't want you to be hurt.” Chiaki looks back at him and blushes not realizing how worried she was for his safety, "What already thinking of me? Don't get so soft on me now, Nakamura.." Dabi chuckles and his hands return to his pockets and with a half turn he nods his head in the opposite direction of her, signalling her to follow him towards the exit of the building, he stops before the door. 

"Wait..you mean those UA kids..? trust me, Nakamura.. they arent your friends.. i don't need to know what you went through today after our little scene, you know as well as i that they're already plotting against you from what you did.." his words rang true along with his velveteen voice, the tall and slender Villain seemed to know more than he let on.

Chiaki became quiet and more confident with her decision. She made this choice, and she really didn't regret a damn thing. "And that very thing you have done today, Chiaki.." he slammed his hand into the wall, anchored his hand beside her head, making her damn near jump out of her skin. Lightning cracked outside illuminating the scars that adorned his features.

  The trench coat splaying open and just a bit of his shirt collar dipping down to reveal the purple scar stretches to his chest, gold tint staples fixed secure into what skin he had left to him that remained unscarred.

 Her eyes wandered from his chest back to his brilliant blue eyes. "Made me realize that you were worth contacting. Trust me, Nakamura.. we will bring out the best in you, UA would have easily tainted your view on the world and how ‘justice’ is delivered; but it seems like you know the world for what it really is." he gave her cheek a pat and a pinch, his gaze remained on her and a sickly grin twisted on his features when he notices her eyes wandering to the purple skin and his pronounced collar dipping further down his chest.. His hand engulfed her chin, capturing it and making her look him in the eyes. 

"Yknow, staring at people in the League will getcha in trouble or hurt, Not me though.. just don't get too used to it, anyone who stares  that long at me i consider mice…but honestly i don't see you scurrying off anytime soon." He backs off when she blushes brighter and gives him a shove. 

"Ah quit! Its kinda hard to not stare if you haven't noticed, Dabi." He pulled his phone out of his pocket and started texting someone facing the heavy door, when he received a reply he put it back into his pocket, and sighed opening the heavy metal door with a creak, rain poured down into the street as he spoke up so she could hear him. "its what we ugly folk are used to i'm afraid." Chiaki merely scoffs and pulls back up the hood and opened her palm flat and above his and her head together she created a translucent green umbrella like barrier protecting them from the downpour,  "Ugly is abit of a stretch, Dabi..." she mutters and follows him into the alley where the rain continued ro shower down bouncing off the barrier, a singular street lamp illuminating the barren street leaving the only city she had ever known, Dabi replayed that phrase in his head and he momentarily closed his eyes.

 Its been years since he got compliments.. it was strange but not unwelcome. "Ohhhh little mouse, your gonna get along very well with me.. stick by my side and everyone will like you… eventually.. Your about to meet one of them anyway." As he said this casually as the street became a black and purple haze, a portal opened up and swirled as a literal exit from the city.. to wherever the hell she was going next. 

Chiaki gasped and took an apprehensive step forward.

 "Scared?" Dabi asked, with a little smirk on his lips. "Just a bit…" Dabi extended his hand for her, inviting her with him "Cmon. Trust me. Trust a burnt man with nothing to lose." He chides playfully. Chiaki accepts his invitation, his hand warm and textured with the staples.. Dabis heart skipped a beat at the contact.

 Soft and small hands engulfed by his own as he guided her through the portal, stunning blue eyes never deviating from her gold and green ones.. like they were captivated by one another.. before she knew it, she was in a completely different location. She blinked and looked around, thunderstruck almost by the environment.

A bar that reeked of booze and smoke of different varieties. "Welcome home, for now." He says in a flat tone, she pulled off her hood and looked around.

 Dabi still had his back to her and looked at his palm for a moment that felt like an eternity, the ghost of her hand remaining in his own, strange emotions bubbled up from nowhere, he shoved them back down and spoke up. 

"Everyone seems to be out by now, usually the bar is never empty. The person who summoned that portal is here...Kurogiri, which means our leader Shigaraki is here. He’ll meet you at some point..when he's not on his damn video games." he nudged her shoulder with his elbow and shook his wet hair out. Turning to look down at her, "Nice place...you guys bounce from place to place often?" She asks in what felt like a shy whisper, the resounding echo from the hall made her feel like she was shouting. 

"Haven't in a while.. hoping we won't have too again. Wont say where because it doesn't matter. Anyway, wanna come up to my room? There's an old couch up there you can crash on. Unless you want my bed, heh.. Wouldn't mind you in bed with me.” He breathily chuckles and pinches her chin starting to lead the way, “Don't get any ideas! I'm just tired.. I haven't had any sleep and its like.. Almost 2:30 in the morning.” She yawned and dragged her feet behind him.

Chiaki follows him up the stairs and down the long corridor to the last door on the left, he opened it to find a bedroom with a king sized mattress pushed to the wall and the windows covered in blackout curtains, an old couch directly under it and  a flat screen across the room as well as his own computer and cans of empty energy drinks by it, as well as an ashtray that looked like it was used normally. 

“This room is mine, go ‘head.” He invites her in, noting the tired look on her face, he found it almost innocent if it weren't for the remnants of blush still ghosted on the apples of her cheeks.

Dabi had booted the door closed behind him as she kicked off her boots, he spoke up again, watching her movements, as they seemed to have gotten lazier. “Not much of an interior decorator but it works for me, sprucing the room up would be too much effort.” 

Making himself comfortable he sheds the trench coat and shuffles through a cabinet in the desk where his computer is located,”I'm getting pretty tired and by the looks of it you are too, so im afraid im gonna have to restrain you. Cmere.” He says, pulling out a pair of handcuffs that catches Chiaki’s attention, her brow instantly rising in confusion and a hint of worry. Dabis eyes flicker up to her when she whips around at the chain jingling as he approaches her, twirling the cuffs around his finger 

 “W-wait why do you need to restrain me?” She asks a little wary, “Its so you dont pull anything while I'm sleeping… can't be too careful, little mouse.” He states clasping the cuffs around her wrists in the front, they clicked almost to the point where he could get two fingers under them. Chiaki looked at him with big innocent eyes and then down to the cuffs on her wrists. “Tsk..you do this to all the new recruits or am i just that special.” He chuckles and turns his back to her. “You’re a first, to both be cuffed and able to sleep in my bed. Consider yourself ‘special’”

She looks back up to find Dabi stripping his white shirt off and tossing it to the couch, a blush forming on her face and a pang in her heart as she looks at him closely, hes much better looking up close… fit and lean, along with the added look of his scars that dressed his torso into his pants only made him 2 times more appealing and more her type. “Holy shit..” She says out loud with her jaw slacked abit. “Checking me out, little mouse? Remember what I said about staring.” He chuckled and laid back in bed exhausted, pulling the sheets up her body comfortably. “Sorry was just admiring the view, Dabi.” She teased rolling her eyes and settling into bed, Dabi’s eyes widened briefly and felt that sweet warm feeling creeping up his chest again, this time he let it simmer there.

“im going to sleep.. Too tired to think, that energy drink i had acouple hours ago finally wore off." Chiaki yawned and stretched, facing away from him to ease the situation, that situation being she wanted to face him and find comfort from him. 

A sort of comfort she longed for for years, acceptance and safety.. Funny she found safety with a villain.. With villains alike. This caused her to giggle to herself, he raises a brow and looked over to her with his arms tucked behind his head 

Instead as Dabi turned off the light and the distant thunder rolled she spoke up “Dabi..” “Hm?” She turned back over and some light from the opened part of the black out curtains illuminated her eyes, Dabi once again caught himself peering into them wistfully finding himself looking her over. 

 A genuine glow in her eye, appreciation and a connection the two have never felt before, “Thank you, for bringing me in.. you wont regret it,” She brings her bound hands up to pull the pillow further up under her head, and licked her lips, swallowing her fear and letting a wall down, even just alittle bit to him. Dabi mused and observed her closely, finally seeing the opposite end of what its like to have someone in need go to him of all people. “i haven't felt anything beyond disappointment for a long long time, so to say i feel comfortable with someone i was fighting not even a day ago says anything, i hope you understand and i'm not stepping over any boundaries.” He grinned, and responded with an amused chuckle. “Getting soft on me again, better not make that a habit with anyone else here, I just might get jealous.” Dabi grazed his finger against her cheek, she leaned against his hand and smiled angelically.

“I'm starting to like that fire in your eye. ” He ghosts his knuckles down her cheek as her eyes closed slowly, blinking exausted as the cold air kicked on from the ac unit above them, she shivered and threw all caution to the wind, Dabi stiffened as she moved closer to his end of the bed, she ducked her head abit beneath the blanket to snuggle against his warm chest, his heart hammered with nerves he still couldnt place a name too, the same hand that stroked her cheek rested on her shoulder, his thumb rubbing slow circles into the sweatshirts fabric. 

Comforting and confusing thoughts swirled through the villains mind as he soon came to realize he remained awake for all but another 20 minutes, the soft rise and fall of her chest and side indicated she had long fallen asleep in his arms. 

Dabi rested his chin against her head and attempted to find the sleep he had long since forgotten in his past life. Acceptance and comfort from someone. 

He sighed and whispered in a husky tone of voice.

“Glad we had that talk, Little Mouse…”

XXX~

Hey yall its my first MHA fic. You might see more of her and Dabi in the future cuz honestly this was fun!

[gumnut-logic]

What do you think the greatest brotrayal of all time would be?

What?

Somewhat of a challenge, not sure I pulled it off, but I hope you enjoy it anyway :D

Thanks to @janetm74 @scribbles97 @vegetacide and @tsarinatorment for various read throughs and cheerleading :D

Sorry, Scott :D

-o-o-o-

Scott glared at his brothers.

Virgil, John and Gordon stood in a line on the comms room hardwood floor all looking straight ahead as if they were in a military inspection. Which was particularly odd since only one of them had ever been in said military.

Hell, even his grandmother was ramrod straight beside them.

Scott was absolutely beside himself. Still dressed in his uniform, complete with its coating of mud, he had no doubt that his appearance was anything but reassuring to the brothers standing in front of him.

Not that he cared. This was beyond it all.

This was so ludicrous that it was hard to even suspect Gordon as the culprit.

Though he was still the most likely despite his arm being in a sling.

Scott eyed his fish brother. He had a scratch above one eyebrow that hadn’t been there when Scott left this morning.

But then a lot was different on Tracy Island since he left this morning.

The most obvious difference was the Thunderbird stuck at an angle where the pool was supposed to be.

His ‘bird was shining in the late afternoon light, her silver hull gleaming as she sat at a sixty-degree angle just beyond the balcony, her wings gouged into the concrete of the patio.

Virgil shifted where he stood on his crutches and Scott felt the briefest flash of guilt at making him stand there. His engineer brother had been grounded for the last week with a broken ankle, along with Gordon and his broken arm. Which is why Scott had been in Two today with the currently guilt free Alan.

His youngest brother stood off to one side, apparently caught between shock and relief that he wasn’t to blame.

“I’m waiting for an explanation.” For several things.

The room still reeked of burnt furnishings. Whatever had happened in the kitchen had left it black and under a haze of smoke that had infiltrated the villa.

As if to comment, John sneezed suddenly. His space brother sniffed and screwed up his face before he realised Scott was eyeing him. He, too, was standing on crutches, something he wasn’t doing this morning.

And still no-one said anything.

Not even Grandma, and honestly that was a kicker.

“Gordon-“

“What are you looking at me for?”

Scott shot him a flat stare. “History.”

“Hey, the last time I borrowed One, I brought her back in one piece.”

“Complete with Eau de Polecat!”

“That does not automatically put me at fault. Besides this was an emergency.”

Scott blinked. A little progress. “And?”

But Gordon clammed up and went back to staring at the portraits on the far side of the room, every bit the WASP Lieutenant Tracy he actually was.

Scott turned to John, his ever-faithful source of relevant information.

“J-“

“I’m sitting down.” John turned and crutched his way past Scott and into the sunken lounge without another word.

Scott stared after him.

“Honey, are you feeling okay?” His grandmother followed his space brother and began fussing over him and his leg, both completely ignoring Scott.

What the-? “How. Did. This. Happen?!” Okay, so he might be yelling just a little, but the cause was sufficient. He turned to his trusted first. His best friend. His brother. His Virgil.

Said brother was looking rather pale. “Virgil?”

Sad, dark eyes looked up at him. “I wanted to make you popcorn.”

-o-o-o-

Virgil was frustrated. Virgil was always frustrated when he was grounded and today sported no reason to change that attitude.

Worse, he had had to watch Scott take his ‘bird out to a mudslide. His big brother was not a fan of flying Two, but since Virgil had a busted ankle and Gordon an equally busted arm, that was the deal today.

To top it all off, mudslides sucked big time and Scott and Alan would likely come home exhausted, especially since two of their brothers were currently unavailable to assist.

So, to help just that little bit he had spent the last couple of hours hobbling around the kitchen slapping together something that could be considered a relaxing meal for that evening, vetoing any chance of Grandma getting into the kitchen and destroying stomach linings.

It helped that Grandma was in Wellington with Kayo.

To top it off, Virgil had put together an apple pie, Scott’s favourite. He had also made sure there was a bucket of triple chocolate ice cream in the freezer for Alan – one that he had stashed away for emergencies just like this.

The last thing on his list was to make some candy popcorn for the squirt and put some kernels aside ready for popping later so they would be nice and warm for the movie.

He was in the process of heating the oil when Gordon burst into the room as if out of nowhere.

Virgil to dropped a spoon.

Damn sandshoes were silent.

“Hubert’s dying!”

“What?” His back creaked as he picked up the piece of cutlery.

“Hubert, the albatross that collided with the window and broke his wing.”

“What albatross?” The oil began to smoke a little so he turned the heat off. His Gordon radar was at full alert – this would likely take a while.

“Yesterday? Upstairs? How did you not hear that?” A blink. “Okay, it was five am. You don’t exist before ten, I’m sorry.” The sarcasm was dripping and a little caustic. “Regardless, Hubert has gone limp and I think he’s dying, Virg. Help me please.” The accompanying clasped hands reminiscent of either prayers or vigorous begging, complete with a sling that wasn’t doing what it was supposed to, were a little over the top.

“Okay. Fine. Show me the patient.” He reached over and nudged the broken arm back into its sling while Gordon glared him.

“Hurry up.”

Virgil grabbed his crutches and followed Gordon to the stairs before darting sideways and thumbing the elevator doors open.

“Okay, fine, hop-a-long.” Gordon jumped down the last few steps and hurried into the elevator with Virgil.

He bounced on his heels the entire way to the infirmary level.

Virgil watched his agitation and realised that whatever was wrong with this bird, Gordon had invested himself in it, much like every other injured animal he had dragged home since he had learnt to walk.

Gordon ushered Virgil into the infirmary and to his horror,  he found the limp sea bird strapped secure in one of the beds. “Gordon, have you heard of hygiene?”

“It’s fine. The sheets are clean. He’s safe.”

Virgil rolled his eyes.

But Gordon’s whine drew him into examining the bird, which, considering it was avian, did not comply with the human knowledge Virgil possessed.

“I don’t really know, Gords.” Virgil stabbed at the infirmary’s computer interface, interrogating the net for baseline vitals for an albatross. Hell, he didn’t even know which species.

“It’s a Gibson’s Albatross.” Gordon was stroking the unconscious bird gently with his fingers.

This was not the first time, nor was it likely to be the last time Virgil found himself in this situation, though the species did vary. As always, his answer was. “I’m sorry, Gordon. You need a qualified vet.”

“But I set his wing. He should be getting better.” Gordon’s age regressed around animals and tended to break Virgil’s heart in the process.

“I’m sorry, Gordon.”

“For goodness sake, we’re International Rescue!” The plea in his brother’s eyes stabbed right where it hurt.

But then those eyes widened and a light bulb went off above Gordon’s head.

Or it could have been a pre-emptive precursor for the migraine Virgil suddenly knew he was going to end up with.

“No, Gordon.”

“But he’s dying!” Gordon grabbed Virgil by the arm. “It’s our job to save lives.”

“How exactly are we going to get him to the mainland? Neither of us can fly.” Virgil wasn’t going to admit it, but the bird didn’t look like it was going to last long enough for another family member to make it home. “I’m sorry, Gordon.” He was already calculating how to cheer up his little brother.

“No!”

He sighed. It wasn’t as if he wanted the bird to die. Hell, if he was hail and healthy, he would have already put it on Tracy Two and be halfway to Auckland by now. But there was no way he was risking himself or his brother in a plane with a broken limb. Maybe Kayo might get back in time?

But then the inevitable happened. He should have seen it coming.

“We can take Thunderbird One!”

Virgil blinked. “What? No!” God, no, Scott would kill him.

“This is a life, Virgil! What makes a bird’s any less important than a human’s? It’s his life, our house has endangered it, and now we aren’t doing anything to help save it? How is that fair?” Gordon’s fists were now clenched at his sides, the sling yet again ignored. Fiery carnelian glared at Virgil. “I can’t do it with my arm, but Thunderbird One doesn’t require feet to operate.” A flicker of his eyelids. “This is on you.”

Virgil stared at his little brother.

A glance at the limp bird on the bed.

Back to Gordon, ever so fiery and passionate.

Virgil reached down, unfolded Gordon’s fist and pulled the sling back into place.

Ten minutes later he found himself doing what he did every time this kind of situation happened.

Thunderbird One launched with Virgil at the helm and Gordon clutching a desperately ill albatross in the back seat.

-o-o-o-

Scott stared at his second eldest brother, the man with whom he trusted so much. Virgil had literally held Scott’s life in his hands on several occasions.

“You borrowed One to take an injured bird to the vet.”

Virgil shifted where he stood. “It was to save a life.”

Scott turned to the lounge and glared at John. “And you let him fly with a broken ankle?”

John returned the glare with equal strength. “Are you kidding me? This is Virgil we’re talking about. I thought One was safer in his hands than yours.”

“What?!”

“It’s not like he’s going to do anything stupid with your ‘bird, is he?”

There were no words, so Scott just gestured in the direction of the pool.

With both hands.

“Yeah, well, probabilities can’t predict everything.”

The flippant, non-answer went straight to Scott’s head and rattled around in there for a moment or two before he chose to file it for later or risk implosion. John was rubbing at his foot and Scott latched onto it to save his sanity. “How did you hurt yourself?”

“In case you haven’t noticed, the kitchen caught fire. Kayo had already been called out again and I was worried about Grandma.”

“And?”

“I tripped.”

“Over what?”

“My own feet! It’s not every day you see Thunderbird One get stuck in the pool!” John glared at Scott. “Cahelium on concrete is very loud.”

Scott stared at him, not willing to face the image those words inflicted on him.

“Why was the kitchen on fire?”

But then something Virgil had said popped into his mind. He couldn’t help it, he rubbed his face with his hand. “Grandma, why didn’t you wait for Virgil to get home?”

“He left the popcorn on the counter, dear, I was trying to help.” Grandma wasn’t looking at him. John’s leg appeared to need a good rub right at this very moment.

John was wincing.

But with that explained, Scott had no choice but to turn back to Virgil, who was still standing clinging to his crutches.

Why hadn’t he sat down? He was ever so very sorry looking and Scott’s heart melted at the edges.

“Virgil, what happened?”

Brown eyes slowly peered up at him.

God, did he really have to deploy that little brother expression. Thunderbird One was down for the count, stuck in the damned pool and the brother responsible wasn’t even letting him stay angry. Goddamnit! How does a thirty-year-old man regress to six-year-old like that? Those eyes were the same eyes Virgil deployed that time he crashed Scott’s bicycle.

As if in answer, something whacked Scott’s thigh.

Ow! “What the hell?”

Looking down he found an extremely large seagull with a bandaged wing glaring up at him. Their eyes met and it squawked.

Very loudly.

“Hubert! What are you doing down here?” And suddenly, there was a race on around the comms room, Gordon chasing the waddling bird as it methodically thumped everyone with its wings, took out a pot plant and to Scott’s horror, one of Dad’s souvenirs. Both toppled with a crash as Gordon continued to chase Hubert around the room.

Alan joined him a moment later.

Part of Scott wanted to yell the building down, but most of him just wanted to know how the hell his ‘bird had ended up stuck halfway into her launch bay.

So, he turned back to Virgil and asked again, perhaps a little louder over the ruckus as the stupid bird scrambled over John in its eagerness to torture everyone.

He approached his brother carefully and placed a hand on each arm. “Virg, What happened?”

“It was an accident. I’m sorry, Scott.”

“That much is obvious. What malfunctioned?”

Brown eyes were suddenly not looking at him.

“Virgil?”

His brother straightened a little. “You have too many damned levers.”

“What?”

He seemed to be saying that a lot today.

“I pushed the wrong lever, okay? It’s on the left on Two and One has it on the right and I yanked on it to slow and the wings deployed. Wrong lever, sorry, okay?”

Scott stared at Virgil, his jaw slowly dropping as his hands lost their grip on his brother and just hovered mid-air beside him. “You used the wrong lever?”

“Yeah, sorry, my bad.” Virgil was looking at his feet. “Can I sit down now?”

Scott’s mouth was still open and he had to force himself to close it. “Sure.” So his voice was a little bit higher than normal…

Virgil didn’t hesitate, clutching his crutches and hurriedly tapping his way over to the lounge.

Behind Scott there was a sudden crash and the sound of breaking glass as both Alan and a bird squawked at the same time.

Scott didn’t turn to look. He just stood staring at his ‘bird, still gleaming in the late afternoon sun, still sticking out of the pool.

His jaw may have dropped just a little again.

But nothing more was said.

-o-o-o-

FIN.

[jenomark]

Part 3

➔Pairing: Idol!Haechan x Reader (Female) ➔Other Members/ Characters: Johnny ➔Genre: Smut (but with a plot!) ➔Warnings: vaginal penetration ➔Word count: 6,500

➔Summary: He’s an idol, a friend, and you took his virginity. Beginning your friends-with-benefits relationship with Haechan wasn’t the best idea, but you just can’t help yourself when it comes to him.

↞ Part 1 ↞ Part 2 

  You needed a soft place to land when you fell. He pretended like he wasn’t the right kind of landing, his Gemini lips razor sharp, the words pouring from his mouth meant to bewitch you. Though he’d never admit it, the boy was a soft caramel candy that melted between your lips, his chocolate center all over your tongue. Emotional unavailability turned into him showing up when you were sad, when you could feel nothing at all. He walked aimlessly until he found himself at your door. He always answered your calls. All the promises and needs in the world began to feel like commitment, his belongings placed strategically all over your apartment, the roof of his mouth hiding the dreaded B word. Boyfriend. Best friend.  In the darkness, he would feel you, notice you, make you real again. He would unwrap you like a piece of candy, moving you around in his fingers until he wanted a taste. In the light, you were free falling.

11:46 a.m.

You:  What do you mean Johnny is on his way?

11:52 a.m.

You: He’s here! What should I do? I’m not ready for this.

11:53 a.m.

You:  I am going to kill you, Donghyuck.

                          24 Hours before Haechan sent the texts

  Haechan let himself into your apartment. He never walked up your stairs unannounced. He told you he respected the line between privacy and whatever you were doing together, but you thought he was just too scared to see you in your natural habitat. Standing outside in the daylight made him nervous, and hiding behind doors had become so natural with his profession. You didn’t mind, even if it brought up a ton of questions you weren’t ready to answer. Secretly, you liked going to the top of your stairs and seeing him standing there, only his eyes visible underneath his Balenciaga hat. There were days he barely made it up the stairs before you jumped on him, your mouth and hands full of longing. 

“You’re late.” you said.

“Wrong,” he said. “It’s exactly ten in the morning. If I’m late, it’s because your clocks are wrong.”

  He trudged up the steps with his face looking down. In one of his hands was a gift bag, and in the the other, flowers so vibrantly red that you could see them in the darkness of the stairwell. When he reached the top of the steps, he pulled his mask down and pecked you on the lips. Watching him walk through your apartment felt natural. He knew exactly where to put the flowers. He padded around in your slippers, his movements so comfortable you would think he was shifting his mail from the table. He sat in his favorite chair facing you, his hands rummaging around in the bag he brought. There was something about his ease of existing that made you remember how you felt about him. He wasn’t quiet in the slightest. He yelled in your space, his lungs expanding to fill the room with a confident breath. You wheezed.  More and more, you were realizing he was everything you wanted to be, everything you wanted to be with. He won.

“You look handsome.” you said.

  Haechan’s hair was faded, and it matched his skin tone even better than his natural hair color did. Dark hair, you had come to realize, made him look more like a child. The Haechan before you was a man, the veins in his arm ropy and thick, like he had worked every day for the last ten years. You had looked at him many times before, but each time was more eye-opening than the last. You began to notice the little scars on his face without the shift of light. You could draw every mole on his body without a map, knew the faces he made when he was annoyed with menial things, and it was getting easier to spot all of the signs that you were falling for. 

“I know.” he said without his usual lack of enthusiasm. 

 Out from the bag came a box. You didn’t have to hear him say it to know what it was. He smiled when he pulled it out, ripping off the plastic like he was tearing into a present he had always wanted. Haechan got up from his chair to present you with his gift: a brand new phone to replace the one he had broken. You were a little taken aback, your eyes darting over the face of the box, and your hands not knowing what to do with themselves. 

“You know,” you said. “Most girls would expect jewelry.”

  He wasn’t listening. He unearthed the phone from its box and held it in his hands. You felt the weight of your own slightly damaged phone in your pocket. He once called you stubborn because you refused to upgrade to a better model, but you were never one to burn money on things you didn’t need. Your phone still worked. Besides, the ridiculous attachment you had to it was difficult to explain. 

“What do you think?” he asked, holding out the phone for you to inspect. “Do you like it?”

  Haechan had peeled away the plastic to reveal the phones shiny facade. It was the same model as his, but he held it differently in the palm of his hand. You could tell that he wanted you to be pleased by his act of generosity. You made eye contact with him and smiled. You didn’t want a new phone, and he knew that.

“It’s nice,” you said. “You didn’t have to buy me a new phone. I thought you were joking when you said that.”

  Again, Haechan wasn’t listening to you. He looked down at the phone and turned it on. He sat back down in the chair to fidget with it, his fingers smudging the screen. You sat on the edge of the couch and tucked your hands between your legs. 

“We can get everything properly set up tomorrow,” he said. “Until then, you’ll have to use your old phone.”

“Why tomorrow?” you asked. “Why not today?”

“I have a date today,” he said.  He checked the expensive watch on his wrist. “I really shouldn’t be here right now. “

“Oh,” you said. “A date?”

  Your voice sounded too high, too sad. You cleared your throat. You opened your mouth to say something else, but the message was marked for deletion. You blinked a few times, the make-up you wore last night making your eyes stick together. You felt like a robot waiting for someone to program the right things for you to say. Speak now. Tell him you’re not bothered. You stood up, wishing desperately that you could retract the emotion from your voice. You took the phone from his hands and thanked him quietly, dragging the bag out from between his legs. You felt awkward and silly for ever thinking that you could be more than just friends. You moved around the room, cleaning up things that were already clean. You needed to keep busy, needed to keep your mind distracted. You could feel Haechan watching you spiral, but you didn’t dare turn to look at him. You wanted to keep just a little bit more of your dignity. 

“Johnny set me up with another idol,” he said.  “ I’m sorry. I didn’t know about it until I came home last night. I was going to tell you, but I wanted to tell you in person.”

“No,” you said, still moving. “It’s okay. You don’t need to tell me anything, Donghyuck. You have your life, and I have mine. We’re adults.”

  Haechan stood up. His slippered feet were loud on your floor. Each step he took felt like a stab to your heart. You didn’t stop moving. You pushed a chair in. You shifted an empty box onto another table. You caressed a plant in passing, its leaves already dead. You wiped invisible dust from a table top. You stared at the clock on your wall a little too long, as if you too were expecting suitors to come knocking on your door. He was right. Your clock was running too fast. Haechan followed you as you moved, the sound of him making you nervous. He was trying to get your attention, but you were avoiding him. There was a speck of dirt across the room that you needed to attend to. You were going to rid it from this earth until he moved in front of you, blocking your path.

“Talk to me,” he said. “I want to be honest with you.”

“What should I say?”

  You dropped your arms to your side. You stared at him directly, your eyes so wide, your back ramrod straight. You wanted to give the appearance of confidence but you feared that you just looked unhinged. You took a deep breath and waited for him to talk, but he didn’t.

Even though you knew it was a mistake, you continued, “ I’m happy for you. I’m sure she’s a lovely girl.”

“It’s just a date,” he said. “I’m not getting married.”

“That’s good to hear,” you said. “Who knows? Maybe you will marry her and you’ll live happily ever after.” 

 The sarcasm was too thick to strain from your voice. You could feel the conversation turning sour, in real time. You looked at him and he looked at you, his beautiful face full of sun. You turned around and closed the blinds, in a huff. You didn’t want the outside world to see what kind of person you could become when you were backed into a corner. In your short time being with him, you both managed to keep the real world out of your relationship. You never fought with him. If you bickered, the make-up sex saved you from destruction. You never found an issue with anything he did.  For you, everything he did was a preface to the love story you sometimes fantasize about having with him. He was always the one person in your life whose relationship to you was well defined.  You were the one in the wrong. Even though you knew it well, you couldn’t stop your emotions from wreaking havoc on what you had built in your little apartment. Haechan didn’t just take the steps up to you all on his own. You were the one who met him halfway, and you walked the rest of the way up together.

“What’s wrong? You look sad, ” he asked. “Talk to me.”

 You tried moving past him, but he held you by your arms. You couldn’t look him in the eyes without crying, so he took your chin and forced you to. You didn’t know how to tell him that the thought of him being with someone else made you feel sick. It didn’t seem right to ask him not to go on the date. 

“Nothing is wrong,” you said. “Everything is okay, on my end.” 

  Haechan dropped your head. You could see the annoyance on his face. Though he tried to be patient, he was physically tired.  He looked away from you and looked at the blinds you had closed. You took a step back from him. You couldn’t help but wonder if it was sadness you read on his face, too.

“Are we friends?” he asked.

You were surprised by the question. “Of course we’re friends. Donghyuck, I’ve never wanted to be someone's friend as badly as I wanted to be yours. ”

 He looked back at you. He was searching your eyes for the truth, the real truth. He never quite trusted you with his thoughts, his fears, or his concerns. You hoped for profound conversations with him, but he was a wall full of locks.  Reading him was even more difficult than you thought it’d be. The sadness you thought you saw looked a little like humiliation when you opened the box to look inside. Were you the one who had read too much into the relationship? Did he show up at all hours of the night only because he felt sorry for you?

“Go on the date,” you said. “Live your life.” 

“Is that what you want?”

No. “ I want you to be happy.” 

  Haechan laughed. There was no joy in his laugh, only sorrow. “You frustrate me,” he said. He walked forward, and you walked backward until your back was up against the blinds. “Tell me what you want from me.”

“I want you to go on the date.” you said. 

  Your automatic responses returned. You sounded dead inside, a hollow, metal body without any feeling. The moment he interlocked your fingers with his and looked down at the way your hands fit together, you could feel yourself becoming real. You had feelings, a heart, and thoughts in the shape of him. He touched his free hand to your cheek, warming your skin with his. He removed his hat and moved forward enough so that you could kiss his forehead. 

“If that’s what you want,” he said softly.

  Haechan picked you up and set you delicately on top of the table in front of the window. Your ass barely balanced on its edge, but with your legs wrapped around his waist, you kept yourself steady. As he kissed you, your head hit the window. You pulled the shirt tucked into his pants, but you didn’t let go of his hand. He lifted your arms together and pushed them against the blinds. You could hear them snapping in half, but you didn’t care. You could feel his tongue in your mouth. You could feel his devotion to you covering all your wounds, like a band-aid. 

“Not here,” you whispered.

  He lifted you up into his arms and tried carrying you to the bedroom, but you didn’t make it. You both capsized, sinking down onto the floor amidst boxes that didn’t belong to you, and a heart that didn’t, too. You looked up at him and brushed his hair from his face. He smiled, but the smile never reached his eyes.

  When you felt him move inside of you for what you promised yourself should be the last time, you lost yourself in the heat. You pushed him off of your body until he was on his back. You held his arms down so he couldn’t touch you, and you rode him until you were sure you had fucked him out of your system.

  You tormented yourself with thoughts of him meeting a woman without a face. Underneath the pixelations, she must have been pretty, but it didn’t matter. Around 3 p.m, you imagined him picking her up for the date. He would avoid the public's attention and roll up in a managers car, his window rolled down a little so she would know it was him. Maybe she was a singer, and when she got in the car, she sang him a song that made him fall in love with her. Those thoughts chased you through your day, even after you tried sleeping them away. Your hands felt full of his body, long after he left. Around 5 p.m,  you touched yourself, imagining it was his hand drawing up your inner thigh.

 When Haechan left, he looked back at you from the bottom of the stairs. You leaned against the wall and let your hair fall in front of your face. He left the new phone with you. As always, he was going to leave his jacket on the hook. You were angry with him for not actualizing how his date would affect you. You couldn’t continue to fuck someone else’s man, even if it was after something as harmless as a first date. You would give him space to figure out what he wanted.

“I’ll see you,” he said. 

  You knew he meant later, or tomorrow. He didn’t find much of a problem with dating someone casually and then coming over to your apartment to fuck you. You excused him because of his age, but you didn’t think it was that valid of an excuse. After you fucked, you asked him politely to get dressed and leave. Haechan dressed silently, looking at you the whole time he was buckling his belt. If you returned his gaze, you knew you’d never let him walk out of your life.

“Yeah.” you said.

“Is that all you’re going to say to me?” he asked.

  Haechan placed the hat back on his head. You fought the urge to bowling ball yourself down your stairs and knock that hat right from his head. You didn’t own him. You didn’t want to own him. You didn’t want to be upset, and you didn’t want to keep so damn silent about how you really felt. Deep down, you convinced yourself that maybe it was for the best. Your relationship might never have worked if you brought it beyond sex, and if it did, you weren’t sure the rest of the world would accept you. It was natural for Haechan to date another idol, to avoid the press for as long as possible before making an announcement on some shitty tabloid website. It was natural for you to shut people out, holding yourself up in your apartment and only caring about work and the five hundred boxes that crowded your space.

“We’ll talk later.” you said.

 You decided to smile, to hide behind the pain that both of you could see standing at the top of the stairs, your heart bleeding down into your shoe. He turned his back on you and walked out of your door, slamming it shut behind him. 

  Since he left, you’d been moping around. You cried a few times, throwing the tissues onto the floor once you were done with them. You kept the blind shuts and watched movies all day, your legs folded haphazardly underneath you. Around half past seven at night, your phone pinged. You reached for it underneath all the tissues. The cracks in the phone let the light shine dully, but it was so bright in the dark apartment that it hurt your eyes. 

“What do you want?” you asked out loud.

  You saw Haechan’s text on your lock screen, a picture of him smiling behind it. Ignoring it would have been the wise choice, but you were too nosy for that. You took your phone and slid the lock open, your eyes squinting to read the texts. 

Haechan: Hope you’re doing well, y/n! I’m having coffee in this cold weather. It doesn’t taste too great. Dress warmly and stay healthy. Remember to take care of yourself.  I love you.

  When you noticed it was an automated text, you dropped your phone on the couch. As a joke, Haechan had set you up with an account weeks ago. “This way, “ he said. “Even when I’m not with you, I’m with you.” The texts he sent sometimes made you laugh. You could always tell when he wrote something with you in mind. Thousands of girls saw it every day, but the message was always meant just for you. You picked up your phone again and looked at the message. As you did, a selfie came through. In it, he was barely smiling, and his finger was poking his cheek. Looking closely at the background, you could see that he was at home. You had never been at his dorms, but he had sent you many graphic pictures from his bed. 

 You sat up and looked around your apartment. He was home. You stood up, your legs asleep, the pins and needles stabbing all the way down to your feet. You started at a run, but the pain was so great that you stumbled into a few boxes, knocking them over with a loud crash. You couldn’t move fast enough. You ran down your steps, stuffed your angry feet into your shoes, grabbed his jacket from the hook and wrapped it around your body. Flinging open your front door, you were immediately met with wind and rain. You went out anyway, holding your face away from the spray. You called an Uber and waited too long, your body shivering. When the car came, you didn’t make pleasantries with the driver. You tapped your hands on your knees the whole time and looked out of the window, asking yourself a million times what you were doing.

“Here!” you shouted when the Uber driver didn’t stop immediately.

“Let me pull over.” he said gruffly, his hand turning the wheel. 

 You waited impatiently, looking over your shoulder to see if anyone was walking down the street. In his neighborhood, it was easy to get caught, which is why you always avoided his dorm. Walking into the members on accident was extra dynamite in your path. You wouldn’t know how to explain why you were standing outside of their building in Haechan’s jacket, and with a scared shitless expression on your face.

“Please hurry,” you whispered, biting your knuckles. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

  You didn’t want to be too late. The whole ride over, you imagined how there was a possibility that he didn’t go home alone. You were the only person he had ever slept with. You didn’t know if he would take everything he learned from you and pass it onto someone else. You didn’t know if that was what he wanted.

  When the car pulled into the spot, you flung yourself out of it with only a thank you as a parting gift. You stood on the sidewalk and looked up at the building, breaking eye contact only as a couple passed you on the pavement. It had started snowing, the flakes falling from the sky so beautifully before they melted on the ground. You looked down at them landing on Haechan’s jacket, its beauty perfectly captured before it sunk down into the fabric. You looked back up at the building and thought about turning back when your phone pinged.

Haechan: Are you dressed warmly?

  At first, you thought it was another automated message. It wasn’t. You rubbed your thumb over his name, your fingernail getting stuck in the crack. You loved the phone so much, because every bit of him was all over it. You could transfer photos and keep them in clouds and drives, but his fingers were all over the buttons, and the memories of your smile were trapped behind the screen.  You ran your finger over the crack again, before replying:

You: I am. 

Haechan: Liar

  You looked down at your phone. Reading the word Liar made you feel emotional. You wiped a tear that had fallen on your cheek, with the back of your hand. You kept remembering how,  in the beginning,  you asked him if he was brave enough. You believed that you were the one prepared for him, but you weren’t. You were the coward. 

You: I’m very warm. You didn’t like the coffee?

Haechan: No

You: What was wrong with it?

Haechan: It wasn’t made by you

You: Oh.

Haechan: Are you going to tell me the truth now?”

You: About what?

  Your heart was hammering in your chest. You lifted your head up to the sky and felt the snow softening on your face. When you looked back down at your phone, he had already written back: 

Haechan: About being dressed warmly. I’ve worn that jacket, and it’s always made me cold.

 You smiled, because he was right. It took you too long to grasp what he had said. When you did, you looked up and there he was. Haechan put his phone back into his jacket and looked you up and down. The way you both stood mimicked the night you decided you couldn’t wait to have him any longer. This time, it was him who closed the gap between you. There were no thoughts, no words, no long, drawn out sighs. Haechan took a step toward you and pulled you against his chest. 

“Don’t worry, “ he said. “They won’t be back until midnight. We’re alone. ” 

  You clung to his arm in the elevator, your cheek taking a rest on his shoulder. The ride up to his dorms was mostly silent. Haechan hummed a song and you just listened, the warmth of the building making you feel sleepy. There was so much you wanted to confess, but it didn’t feel like the right time to talk. When the elevator stopped at his floor, he took your hands and moved you forward. 

“Are you ready to see where I live?” he asked. “Where I think about you every single night?”

 Your heart had been beating against your rib cage the entire time, and it wasn’t getting any quieter. You kept waiting for a manager to meet you at the door, for one of his members to catch you in the act of holding hands. When Haechan swung his front door open, you had to stop yourself from closing your eyes to shield yourself from any impending doom. 

“Ta-da.” he said, his voice sounding so small. 

  Haechan was right. You were alone. The living space was empty and dark, the only light coming from a source over the stove. You took a step inside and removed your shoes. He offered you his slippers which were too big for you, but you liked having a part of him in the way he had you.

“What do you think?” he asked.

  There was no girl waiting on the couch, her small face confused by your presence. There wasn’t anyone coming to pull the rug from underneath your feet. Haechan led you further inside, his hands never releasing yours. You didn’t want to pry too much into their private lives, so you swept your eyes over a few things before searching his face. He looked content with having you there, albeit, a little bit nervous. 

“I like it,” you said. “It’s much nicer than my place.”

“Obviously,” he said. 

  You nudged him, playfully. Haechan pulled you in the direction of a door. You could feel a sickness growing in your stomach. You didn’t think you were ready to see his bedroom, the life he led beyond your world. Though you worked for the same man, your lives couldn’t be any more different. Haechan put his hand on his doorknob. At the same time, you felt something tug harder on your insides.

“Wait,” you said, pulling his arm. “Are you sure you want me to see this? There is no going back, if we do.”

“It’s just my bedroom,” he said. “You don’t have to be so scared. You let me in. Now, let me. “

You nodded. “Okay.” 

  Haechan opened the door to reveal a bedroom that could have existed anywhere. His blankets and sheets were blue and plain. His white furniture was from IKEA, a wireless charger and a packet of make-up wipes resting on top. There was a speaker, a computer, and a bathroom off to the side. You kept expecting some kind of secret to jump out at you from behind the curtain, but when you looked at the window, you only saw your reflection staring back at you.

“Come in, “ he said. “ It’s really okay, I promise.”

 You walked further inside. Haechan shut and locked the door behind him. You stood awkwardly, your eyes taking in the symmetry of the room. You knew Johnny was his roommate and could figure out which things belonged to him. You didn’t love being among Johnny’s personal things when he didn’t know. You thought you could smell his cologne haunting you, but then you turned around to see a table with expensive bottles on top. Relax.

“It’s nice, “ you said. “This isn’t how I imagined it. I thought it would be messier.”

“Me?” he asked. “Messy?  You know me. I’m not messy.”

“Do I know you?” you asked.

  It was meant to be taken lightly, but Haechan’s face looked sad. You felt bad for saying it. You were going to apologize but then he took off his jacket and threw it in a corner of the room. You looked to where it fell, the lump it had become looking even more somber. When you turned back to him, he was pulling his shirt from his torso. You watched him strip until he was fully naked and standing at the end of his bed, his body for you to witness.

“This is me,” he said. “Your tongue knows me. Your hands, they’ve touched me in more places than this body. You find your way back to me when you’re sad. We try to fight it, but we’re not strong. You and I, we’re gutless. But I have a heart. I thought I could make it go away easily, but that isn’t true. You said I was intelligent once, and that isn’t true either. If I were intelligent, I would have told you a long time ago how I felt. I would have been brave. I accepted that date from Johnny because I was scared. “

“It doesn’t matter,” you said, shaking your head. 

“It does to me,” he said. “I wanted you to fight for me. If I couldn’t do it, I wanted it to be you. I’ve always wanted it to be you. When I finally got you, I couldn’t believe it. I didn’t want it to ever end, but I knew we couldn’t keep going like that. “

  You stood in his room, and you removed your clothes, too. Piece by piece, they fell at your feet, each wrapping plunging to the floor. Being naked was easy, with him. You had sex so many times that you’d lost count. Being exposed to him felt different. You could feel that there was nothing left blocking the path between you. 

“So, we stop,” you said, stripping the last piece of clothing. “ Donghyuck, let's please stop. I’m tired.”

  He breached the space, his mouth on yours, his tongue melting like snowflakes on yours. You wrapped your arms around his middle and kept your body pressed tightly to his. He fell backwards onto his bed, with you on top of him. His hands were tangled in your hair before wandering all down your back. The noises coming from his throat as he kissed you were desperate. You moved your kisses down his body, from the tip of his chin, down his throat, over his chest, and on the sides of his hips. He was quiet and still, his fists clenching and unclenching. 

“I love you.” he whispered.

  You looked up. You kissed his mouth and asked him to say it again. Each time he did, you swallowed the words to keep them safe. Haechan gripped your waist and flipped you over until you were on your back. You hit the bed hard, your head bouncing back up. You had bitten your lip and tasted metallic on your tongue, but the pain made you laugh. You felt so happy, even when he looked distressed. Haechan held you close like he had damaged you, his head obscured by your neck.

“It’s okay, “ you whispered. “That’s not the first time you made me bleed.”

  As if remembering how roughly he had fucked you before, Haechan’s lust woke up from a deep sleep. He used his arms to raise himself above you. He looked like he was lost in a daze of happiness, his hair already a mess, his eyes already gleaming. Though it wasn’t the first time you had sex that day, it was the first time you felt fully in one piece. There would be time for more honest talks, but right then, it was time to make love to him.  You touched his chest before moving your hand down his belly to play with the fine hair there. His strength was minimal, so his arms shook as he held himself in that position. You wrapped your hands around his cock, the softness of it welcoming you home. 

“Baby, the things you do to me.” he whimpered, his words from before summoning so many feelings within you.

  You let him take the lead. He had learned enough from you, heard enough from you. He let you get him hard before taking over, his cock primed for your body. He kissed you again, his lips so soft and wet. You pulled him down so that you could hug him as he entered you, his body filling you up with so much love. Knowing that it wasn’t going to be the last time made it feel better than you could have imagined. Getting to be with him in a place so personal as the bed he slept in every day, progressed your relationship further than you ever would have thought.

  When all was finished, you wanted to fall asleep in his arms. You didn’t want to remember that it wasn’t over yet, that you were still a secret tucked safely underneath his bed sheets. You held onto him for a little bit longer before you had to let go.

“What happens now?” you asked, getting dressed.

  Haechan smiled. He was sheepish, his body folding like an accordion, back and neck bent, his throat so full of the most magical music. He put on his clothes inside out and brushed the hair nervously from his forehead. 

“We do what normal couples do,” he said. “We keep moving forward.”

“But we’re not a normal couple.” you said.

  You were fully dressed and ready to go. When he was finished, he brought you out into the living room so that you could put on your shoes. While you did that, he went back into his bedroom to erase every trace of you. You didn’t know if his members would be able to hear your moans as soon as they stepped foot in the dorm, your voice clinging like static electricity onto the curtains. To you, the smell of fresh sex stuck to everything. It wasn’t difficult to take one look at Haechan’s bedroom and know that love lived there. 

“Are you ready?” he asked.

“Yes. “ 

  Before he opened the front door, he kissed you one last time. You wanted him to sleep over at your place, but he had a schedule tomorrow. When one issue was moved from the path, a few more tumbled down. 

“But I will talk to you when I can,” he said. “And I will send you pictures of me so you don’t forget me.”

“I could never forget you.” you said. 

  You held him as you walked all the way to the elevator. He tried tickling you by slipping his fingers underneath your jacket, but you squirmed away. When you brought yourself back to him, you were both laughing and playing around. When the elevator signaled that it was getting ready to open, you parted naturally, but your hands were still moving towards each other like magnets.  When the elevator doors opened, Johnny stood there with headphones in his ears and his eyes looking from Haechan, to you. 

“Hello.” Johnny greeted you, pulling the headphones from his ears and letting them rest around his neck.

  You nodded in greeting, your brain trying to remember how you must have looked to him. You were dressed. Check. Your hair was not a mess. Check. Both of your shoes were on the right feet. Check. You were too scared to look at Haechan. You didn’t want your look to betray anything you did in his bedroom. Johnny was very intelligent, and you knew it wouldn’t take much to make him suspicious. A second passed while you were thinking all of this. You thought you were out of the clear before Haechan stepped away from you, widening the already wide gap between you. You looked over at him at the same time as Johnny. The guilt on Haechan’s face was printed in red all across his cheeks. 

“You’re back early.” Haechan said.

Johnny smiled. “Yeah. Were you not expecting me back?”

  When Johnny looked at you, you knew it was over. You expected him to question both of you on the spot, but he just raised his eyebrows at Haechan and walked past him. When the door to the dorm shut behind Johnny, Haechan breathed a sigh of relief, but you weren’t so relaxed.

“He knows.” you said.

“Johnny?” Haechan asked. “He doesn’t know anything. I think he’s oblivious.”

  You really tried to hold onto that belief for as long as you possibly could. For a moment, as night turned to day, you pretended like you had fooled everyone. 

                                                Present Day

11:54 a.m.

You: Donghyuck!!

  Your phone slipped out of your hands and onto the floor as a fist hammered at your front door. You didn’t care about having another crack in your screen. After all, what was one more crack in your mess of a life? Quietly, you walked down your stairs. You waited at the bottom and hoped that he would stop knocking, that Johnny would disappear altogether.

“I can hear you breathing.” Johnny said through the door.

  You smoothed out the clothes you wore last night. When you got home, you fell into bed emotionally exhausted, without bothering to change. You liked to think you fell asleep with a smile on your face, but you were worried sick about how much Johnny knew. Waking up to Haechan’s texts was a nasty but unsurprising shock. 

“Sorry.” you muttered.

  You opened up the front door and gave Johnny your best “I’m innocent!” smile. He wasn’t wearing the clothes from the night before. In fact, he looked almost too perfect: his clothes pressed and his hair and make-up done. 

“Hi,” he said. “Can I come in?”

“I’m kind of busy right now,” you said. “Maybe come back later?”

“I think you’ll want to let me in for this.” he said.

  Johnny took his phone out of his pocket. You looked at the way his fingers worked to pull up a screen. You held onto the door to brace yourself, which was smart of you do. Johnny lifted up his phone to show you a picture of Haechan holding you outside of the 127 dorm, his arms wrapped tightly around you. 

“Someone saw you and Haechan last night,“ he said. “ They pulled out their phone, took pictures, and then sold those pictures. The owner of those pictures now wants you to make an announcement through them, or they’re threatening to release a bunch of them today. So, can I come in now?”

  You took Johnny’s phone out of his hand and thumbed through a gallery of pictures taken outside of the building and what looked like pictures of the security footage from inside of the elevator. You handed the phone back to Johnny. You tried to work through the tornado of feelings swirling inside of you, but all that could come out of your mouth was a resounding “ Fuck.”