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untaemedqueen · 5 years ago

Text

Experiment 21 (M)

Jimin x Reader x Seokjin

Genre: Dystopic!AU, Poly!AU, Strangers to Lovers!AU, Smut, Fluff, Angst

Warnings: Jin teaches Jimin the WORKS, Body Worship, Marking, Cunnilingus, Fellatio, Impreg Kink, Cum Swallowing, Face Fucking, Multiple Orgasms, Masturbation, Fingering, Soft Dom!Jimin, Soft Dom!Jin, Doggy Style, Cream Pie

Other Warnings: Blood, Stabbing, Death Of A Super Insignificant Character

WordCount: 21.7k

A/N: The beautiful banner is from my love lady @ladyartemesia she makes such wonderful moving imagery and I’m always consistantly astounded. This idea came about because of @ppersonna, one day she said “Donna, Jin and Jimin, please.” Faithfully, I can only answer yes ma’am.

Another grandiose shout out to @ladyartemesia and @xjoonchildx for betaing everything I have so far and giving me such great feedback. I could not ask for a lovelier squad.

Stark white. There's something about the color that makes Jimin feel so dirty as he sits down in the white chair at the white table. Maybe it was because his one piece outfit was the color of soot. Someone once told him that people called 'mechanics' in the old world wore outfits just like his. They used to have silly names scrawled in ovals over their hearts like Karl or Bubby.

Or maybe, he felt dirty because of the handsome well put together man that sits opposite of him at the table. His grey three piece suit seems to exude richness, exude power within the small white confined room. Jimin's head dips down, eyes flitting to the table as the handsome man looks up before throwing a tablet onto the table. With a few clicks, a hologram pops up. "Jimin." The voice draws his attention back as the man in the suit puts his elbows on the table.

Clearing his throat, his fingers intertwine before placing his hands on the table. "You've done considerably well throughout this term, my little potent friend." The man's voice has a gruff backbite, one that takes Jimin by surprise as he taps his fingers to his kneecaps. It's no surprise Jimin's handler has jealousy enraptured throughout his voice. He was one of the few that were still virile after The Great End.

The damage to cities and civilizations was catastrophic, the damage to the human body was even more so. Reproduction came few and far between, pregnancies sometimes not even completing to full term. Babies born through The Meeting weren't guaranteed to be virile later in life either, it was simply a question science couldn't answer.

One would think the few that could reproduce would be held high in this sort of society, but alas, they were lab rats. Lab rats to be tested upon and made to reproduce without an inkling of care for the virile. Jimin's friend Namjoon once told him that they were like 'worker bees' always doing their mindless duty to perform and please without a second thought. Generations of The Fertile had passed since The Great End, the few reproductive humans left had evolved to feel no pleasure in culminating in man's greatest gift. Just simply two bodies meeting to reproduce. The male and female would house together until the female became pregnant. Upon becoming impregnated she would be taken to The Great Home, where she would live out her pregnancy amongst the other fertile women.

"You've had six attempts this term and all six have completed with pregnancies." Jimin's handler tells him as he flicks through the women Jimin had stayed with for some time throughout the six months. Jimin gives a small nod before pulling on the fabric of his soot colored one piece. It was something of a coping mechanism for him when it was demanded of him to wear clothes. It keeps him comforted in this familiar sickly white room. "We've discovered a female who has a very strong chance of fertility and the Masters would like you to participate."

A girl's face arrives on the hologram. She seemed quaint in Jimin's eyes. Friendly to look at. Her eyes expressed emotions he found himself feeling uncomfortable with. Clearing his throat, he leans against the table. His chest presses against the lip of the table as her hologram begins to smile. He looks up at his handler before raising an eyebrow. "Participate?" His handler chuckles quietly, a noise that makes the younger man unsteady as he shoves off of the table.

"Recently...I shouldn't be telling you this-" His handler mumbles before looking towards the closed door, the reflection of the Peace Maker through the glass has him pressing his body closer to the stark white table, "Recently, Peace Makers went to the Ruins. In the Ruins they found documents signifying there was a very small chance of something called Heteropaternal Superfecundation." Jimin blinks at his words.

"Heter- What?" Jimin asks as he pulls at the fabric once more. He wasn't the type to ask questions. He did as told and was perfectly happy with getting a few more food tokens after each successful reproductive attempt. "Heteropaternal Superfecundation. A set of twins fathered by two completely different males." Furrowing his eyebrows Jimin can only scoff at the notion.

It was hard enough to reproduce with a female. They want a female to drop two eggs during fertilization? That's a stretch. Jimin runs his hands over his face before looking at his handler. "You want me to mate in the presence of another male?" His handler points at him before clicking his teeth.

"There have been twenty experiments so far, not a single woman has succeeded. But this woman-" He points to the hologram, "This woman has had two consecutive ovulations where she has produced two eggs." Jimin tilts his head before looking at her again. She has attractive lips, he finds himself noticing before looking back up. His mocha irises meeting the sky blue orbs of his handler.

"You are the most virile man in this part of the country. And this man." He flicks the screen showing a handsome man before pointing. "This is Seokjin, the most virile man from the other side of the country. The Masters would like you to try. Try and get this woman pregnant, she seems to hold high standing with them." Jimin pulls on the fabric of his one piece before sighing. A few extra food tokens certainly wouldn't hurt.

At first, Jimin found it incredibly uncomfortable to be around so many scientists. He was taken to The Masters when he was eighteen after many series of tests. Now, he is fully comfortable standing naked in front of people without a care. Laying out on the medical table, his eyes stare up at the flecked ceiling. He shivers at the cold gloves as they prod at his skin. "Good morning." The voice is melodic, one not heard before by him.

His head turns to the voice, the face from the hologram in the flesh as she leans against the doorway. She raises her hand before giving a gentle wave to everyone in the room. "Miss Y/N! Welcome! Please come in!" Jimin raises an eyebrow at the eager voices of the scientists. His eyebrows flicker higher as you begin to smile at them.

You seem kind. He notices how fancy your clothes are, the fabric of your dress was not one of the matronly women he usually meets. "If you could take off your dress and lay down next to Jimin." One of the scientists relays before looking back over at him.

Both of your eyes meet, your head tilting as you wrinkle your nose and he finds his body relaxing at your gaze. Your hands come to the zipper on the side of your gray dress before slowly pulling it down. Jimin was never one to take interest in the bodies of the females during his mating experience. His handler once told him that back in the old days before The Great End, people used to lavish on bodies for pleasure and love. A concept far beyond his comprehension.

Stripping yourself of the dress, Jimin's eyes lazily roam your naked body. Taking note of how puffy and pretty your nipples look before looking back up at the ceiling. Pleasure and love, so far beyond his reach. Such a concept was a fairy tale in these times. Laying down on the table beside Jimin, you hold your hand out. He lifts his head before clearing his throat. "Y/N, nice to meet you." He shakes your hand briefly before jumping as the scientist presses the cold glove to his scrotum.

"Jimin." He mumbles before closing his eyes. Jimin stayed with the females he mated with for a relatively short time. He was good at the task at hand and that was about it. He didn't need to spend time with them. He didn't 'hang out', a term his friend Yoongi once used after a three month stint with one female he mated with. Jimin never needed to get to know the woman he was staying with. It seems artifice to become friendly with someone who just won't stick around. At least the other guys of his housing block stuck around. He could afford to get comfortable with them.

"Don't you just hate it when you get shivers during this?" You ask quietly to him as gloved hands run over your breasts. He hums gently to you and he wonders if you're nervous. Talking just to talk, to take away your fright. But, that thought gets wiped out as an alcohol pad is wiped over his inner elbow. "I hear you have a lot of success with impregnating women." You say before turning your head to him.

You take in his handsome features. The sharpness of his jaw and how attractive his small eyes are. His nose is perfectly straight and his lips were plush and pretty. You've heard that men and women who participate in The Meeting are generally blunt and to the point. Jimin seems a bit cold but it's nothing you don't think you could get past. You weren't usually a part of something like this, this was new and something special. So, no matter how standoffish Jimin could or would get you would take it in strides. The experiment is exciting and if you could bring two new lives into this world it's worth it.

"I get extra food tokens." Jimin mumbles and you find your body going rigid at the notion. That's incredibly depressing, honestly. You didn't need to worry about things like that, you never needed food tokens and the thought makes your stomach roll. "Oh." You whisper before looking up at the ceiling.

He runs his fingers through his black hair before lifting his hips as instructed by a scientist. "Are you comfortable, Miss Y/N? The exam will go quickly and we'll get you back to your home in no time." You smile kindly at the words before nodding.

"Your home?" Jimin questions before turning his head to you. You find it awkward now, once he sees your house he'll surely hate you then. "Yes. We'll be going to my house instead of a Meeting House." You whisper to him before getting the okay to get up.

"Who are you?" He inquires before sitting up. Putting your dress on, you stare at the one sided glass opposite you. "Just Y/N." You whisper before zippering your body out of sight.

He grunts gently at the notion before hopping off of the table. "Sounds like anything but 'just.'" He mutters before putting on his one piece.

"Well at my house you don't need food tokens, you can just be." You whisper to him before tying your hair up in a satin ribbon. The tendrils of the ribbon fall over your shoulders, the harsh fluorescent lights of the examination room highlighting your features for Jimin to see. A Peace Maker steps into the doorway and Jimin finds it hard to keep his head up as he notices the electric wand in his hand. Never used on him before and he intends to keep it that way. "Come." You tell Jimin happily before putting your hand on the Peace Maker's shoulder.

Exiting the examination building, Jimin has a hard time keeping his eyes off of the Ruins in the far distance. The multitude of buildings that have been destroyed, toppled over one another as nature reclaims the Earth. The vines and trees that sprout amongst the rubble make him uneasy. A hand is pressed to his back before shoving him forward towards the car. You scowl at the Peace Maker before folding your arms. "Is it necessary?" You ask gently, Jimin's head snapping to your encounter with the taller man as he tilts his head.

"I'm sorry?" He asks, the tone sending a chill down Jimin's spine as he tries to grab your arm to pull you away from confrontation.

"You should be. I said is it necessary?" You ask once more as the car doors fly open readying itself for your entry.

Jimin takes a sharp breath through his nose, mocha irises flitting between your form and the large man in front of you.

"I was just-" Tilting your head down, your gaze pierces the Peace Maker. Daggers of anger thrown at him with one simple look. "No Miss. Not necessary. I apologize." Jimin widens his eyes as you turn to him. Clapping your hands you smile kindly.

"Well then. Let's go." You whisper to Jimin before sitting inside the car. “Who is she?” He murmurs before bowing his head to the Peace Maker. Jimin clears his throat before awkwardly crouching to get inside of the car. Of course he has seen one before but The Fertile never get to ride in one. They have their own system of transportation, they use the underground trains. His fingertips rub at the metal band clamped onto his wrist, eyes tracing over the familiar symbol of a fish inside of a woven basket. His eyes look to your arms as the car begins to move on its own. “You don’t have a band.” He announces as you turn your head to his voice.

You smile gently before pointing at the red satin ribbon in your hair. “This is my band.” You tell him before looking out the window as the streets begin to pass you by. People dirtied with mud and dirt approach the car as it begins to slow down and you clear your throat awkwardly as you drive through the Slums. Jimin is engrossed by the sight, uncomfortably shifting on the leather seat as people knock on the windows. Their muddy knuckles leave prints on the glass. “Pouch.” You say gently before smiling as the car stops to a halt. A drawer opens beside you and your fingers dig into the velvet interior before producing coins.

Jimin has never seen the Slums before, his handler had told him stories of the people that live here. How they starve and get sick because they have no useful talents to bring them to other more viable areas to work. He jumps, hand flying to his heart as someone knocks on the window beside him. “It’s okay.” You mumble to him before lowering your window.

Your palm opens, the gold coins reflecting light from the sun as you smile at the people who stand before your car. He notices the coins immediately. Food tokens. Jimin tilts his head in disbelief as you hand them out. You don’t flinch or pull away as your hands become soiled with dirt, your smile stays kind. It’s almost endearing in a way. “Who are you?” He questions again as the people thank you audibly. Some women and men even sob as you nod your head to them.

“Just Y/N.” You reply again before rolling up the window. “Onward.” You say before wiping your hand on your dress, the dirt smearing over the expensive looking fabric. Jimin folds his arms, finding it almost enlightening to be in your presence. You certainly were different, certainly held some sort of high profile. Jimin suddenly wishes he would have taken those classes on history they were giving out for free a few months ago. He wishes he was a learned man. Until now, he never really felt the need to know more than was graciously given to him. Now, he wishes he understood this world and everything in it. It would make it a lot easier to see where you were coming from and just who exactly you were.

Arriving at your house, Jimin’s eyes widen at the great stature of it. “People once called this a mansion.” You tell him as you exit the car, your feet gracefully climbing the multitude of marble steps before opening the brass double doors of your home.

His room has exactly four walls. He had a bed, a toilet and a shelf to put trinkets and knick knacks. Some even put books on the shelf. This was grandiose and before he could find himself in wonder of the majesty of this place, anger reached him first. With a scoff he looks up at the gray painted walls, old pieces of art hang in gold frames as they litter the walls of your home. You had furniture, nice olden looking furniture with claws for feet. Everything was expensive and exuded an air he found simply debilitating. “What do you think?” You ask before your hands press to your sides.

“It’s ridiculous.” He mutters before poking a gold statue of a horse that sits upon a small table in front of your couch. You nod to him before clearing your throat. He is certainly not comfortable, that much is obvious. “I had a room made up for you, you don’t have to wear that around here if you don’t want to. I have other clothes for you that my brother gave me.” You say before pointing to the curved staircase behind you. His eyes look up at the second floor before furrowing his eyebrows.

He was out of his depth here, simply feeling bovine in the grand amazement of this place. “Go ahead, explore if you want. Seokjin should be here soon, too. We can get to know each other.” You tell him before standing up.

He watches you ascend the stairs, leaving him to his own thoughts. He would probably need space, this is a big change for him. Jimin pulls at his one piece before looking around at the mansion. “Absolutely ridiculous.” He murmurs before narrowing his eyes at two doors on the left side of the house.

Without a second thought he walks over to them, gripping at the gold handles before pushing the doors open. “Jeez.” He whispers before taking in the room, books line the walls in their entirety. Some books even burnt and frail looking as if they were from before The Great End. There was a desk and a leather chair behind it. Papers and books atop the cherry wood table. He closes the doors behind him before running his fingers through his hair, his eyes glancing up at the gold painted ceiling before slowly sliding down the doors. He folds his legs inward before putting his fist underneath his chin. You were someone of great importance, he finds himself thinking.

He doesn’t know how long he sat in the library, how long his irises flitted from book to book. But, he found his anger slowly becoming replaced with wonder. He wondered just how important you were and how just being virile had brought him to this great opportunity. He began to think if he wasn’t virile would he have ended up in the Slums? Would he have been strong enough to go work in the Mines or the Dam? He guesses he’s just lucky in this way. Then he thinks of you. How gracious you are, giving him space and reading him so thoroughly. The way you gave food tokens to the poor as if it was just the right thing to do. It was a wholesome experience in this black and white world he had never experienced before.

But, he hasn’t had many experiences before this to be fair. Jimin was bred in captivity much like every other person. He was born in The Great Home. He lived his early years in The Child Unit, undergoing tests to see what his quality of life would be if he wasn’t one of the Fertile. Upon turning eighteen he went for the test, only to find out he was one of two Fertile that were born in his year. He was then taken to the Fertile Housing Unit and lived among men, some of which became his friends. And, that was about it. It was droll and boring and he too found himself droll and boring. His handler had told him that he was a great addition to this world, so far more important than anyone else besides The Masters and yet, he found it all drivel and pointless.

Stagnant. That was a word, Namjoon had once used to describe how Jimin felt throughout all of this. He was the learned one amongst their friends. “I should have asked him so many things.” He finds himself whispering before looking back up at the gold ceiling.

A knock comes to the doors behind him and he’s quick to jump up before opening the doors. You stand before him, that same gentle smile on your face before leaning against the door frame. “Do you like to read?” You kindly ask him. He takes in your new clothing, something simpler than before and yet, expensive nonetheless.

“No. I-I don’t read very often.” You hum at his words before entering the library. He watches you waltz past him, finding your strides almost endearing as you approach the large wall of books. Your fingers trail over the spines of the books before you’re pulling out a book. “Here. If you want, you can read this.” You tell him before turning to him.

He looks at the book in your hands before tilting his head. “Society Then, Society Now?” He asks before taking the leather bound book. You nod to him before folding your arms. “It’s a good read. Who knows, you might like it.” You tell him.

He nods slowly before opening the cover. “You’re very important, aren’t you?” He asks you before putting the book to his chest. You shrug before intertwining your hands. “Someone people might say so. I don’t think of it that way. I’m just Y/N.” You whisper before hearing a knock in the distance.

“That’ll be Seokjin.” You tell him before leaving him alone in the library. He looks down at the book before running his fingertips over the inscribed letters on the cover. Maybe getting to know your mates isn't a terrible notion.

Seokjin was cocky. Or, Jimin thinks so anyway. He was also talkative. Too much so for his liking. He arrived with a wide smile and handsome features that made Jimin feel as plain as day. Apparently people from the other side of the country don’t wear one piece outfits like here. They wear woven pants and shirts that highlight their body forms. A weird concept in Jimin’s opinion. He had taken flight to his room, to get away from the awkwardness and to honestly just change. Pulling out a white shirt and white pants, he finds it almost humorous that he looks forward to dressing in clothes that his handler would be seen in.

His bedroom was beyond impressive. The bed alone, as it stands within four posts, looks like something from an old photo Namjoon had once shown him in a history book. The toilet was in another room, along with a shower. His own shower, he didn’t have to share with anyone else. “Amazing.” He whispers before putting on his new clothes and looking in the free standing mirror.

A mere second and he is laying down on the bed, closing his eyes. It would seem a shame to go back to his life after experiencing this. This was too good to be true. Too suddenly wonderful and interesting. Rolling onto his side, his eyes open. His gaze passed through the window to the garden outside. Gardens were rare, fertile Earthen soil after The Great End was hard to come by. To have such a stretch of land for just a garden seems like a waste. The flowers were pretty though, it brought solace to his heart. “Jimin, dinner is here.” His head turns to the door as your knuckles rap gently against the wood.

His housing unit had a cafeteria. Dinner was served at six on the dot, and the food tokens would provide you with food that was somewhat tasty but provided enough nutrition to get you through. Standing up off of the bed, his bare feet pad toward the door before the scent of food wafts through the air. His mouth begins to water, saliva pooling and he realizes just how famished he actually is. He catches a glimpse of you as you descend the stairs. You were graceful in everything you did it seems.

Entering the dining room, his eyes caught sight of Seokjin. He changed as well, into something that seemed to fit him well. He was a handsome man, someone that seemed to fit a more important role than what he has been given in this life. “Sit!” You say happily before sitting down at the long table. Jimin looks over the table, his eyes widening at the great selection of food before gasping gently. His stomach grumbles and he is quick to sit beside you as you place the linen napkin over your lap.

“How am I supposed to go back to my life after I eat this?” Jin jokes and Jimin can find no humor in his question because to him it’s very serious. You snort, a gentle breathy noise that appeases Jimin’s ears.

“We can take our time with the experiment, you know. It probably won’t happen on the first go. It was rare in the old world. It’ll be incredibly rare even more so now.” You say before cutting into your steak.

Jimin grabs a roll of warm bread before ripping it. His eyes on your steak before swallowing gently as saliva pools. To get a piece of steak, someone must have fifty food tokens and request it a week in advance. Taehyung, Jimin’s best friend and the only other Fertile man of his year, did it once. Saved up one token from every mating for years just to be able to get it and here it was on a silver platter in the middle of the table. You look up at him before smiling gently, “Eat.” You whisper before wrinkling your nose.

With unimpressed eyes, he watches Seokjin devour the food at the table. Steak, chicken, corn, carrots. Everything he could possibly get his hands on. “Jimin.” Seokjin calls to him before wiping his mouth. Jimin looks up at him, purple tinted water in hand before sipping it. “Do you feel pleasure?” He asks the younger man as if it’s a common thing.

Jimin opens his mouth before furrowing his eyebrows. “Pleasure? No. I-I don’t.” He murmurs, the sound of his voice travelling through the still air as Jin nods. “Me either. It’s such a shame. I know someone who does, though.” Jimin sits up straighter at his admission before setting down his roll of bread.

“Really? What do they say it’s like?” As annoying as Jimin thinks Seokjin is, this is truly interesting.

“His name is Guk. He said he fell in love with one of his females when they were living together. It took them a few months to get pregnant. He used to feel nothing at all until he had sex with her. Now he says that it’s something euphoric. Something so beyond what we could ever hope to experience.” Seokjin says before picking up his glass of water. You raise an eyebrow as your teeth clamp down on the fork before pulling it clean out of your mouth.

“So in order to feel pleasure, you have to love the one you’re mating?” You ask him as he leans back in his chair. “That’s what Guk says. He even masterbates now.” He finishes his sentence with a whisper.

“That’s illegal.” Jimin mumbles to him across the table before picking at his roll of bread. Seokjin shrugs at him before pushing some carrots around on his plate. “He says it feels so good, he can’t help himself.”

Jimin hums to him before tilting his head, what must pleasure be like? What must it feel like? “Sounds like bullshit to me.” You say before putting your linen napkin on the table. Jin does the same and Jimin chides himself for only eating bread and corn throughout this dinner. He should have had the steak.

“Maybe. But, it’s something to look for.” Jin says before smiling.

“Something to look for?” You ask gently before standing.

“It’s boring to do the same thing over and over again without looking for a new outlook. Right, Jimin?” His head bounces up at the question before sucking a breath between his teeth. That certainly is an interesting way to look at things.

“I could see that as an interesting view.” Jimin agrees before standing up. He goes to grab his plate before your hand grazes over his. There’s something short, a feeling of warmth surging through him as he coils away from your touch in shock. You flex your hands surprised before clearing your throat. “You can leave the plate. Someone will be around to collect it.” You tell him before stepping into the living room.

“So when does the experiment begin?” Jin asks you.

“It has already begun.” You tell him before walking out of sight.

Jimin’s room has no windows. Lights would go out at ten o’clock and would come on promptly at seven in the morning. He finds it difficult to fall asleep with the moon light peering through the large window by the bed. The moon was full tonight, small wisps of clouds drifting by every so often. He finds it majestic to look at. Sitting on the window sill, his fingers graze over the leather cover of the book you had given him. Opening to the first page, he rests his head back against the wall to tuck in for a read before you knock at the door.

The door creaks gently as you peak your head in, “Everything okay?” You ask him in a hushed voice. He nods to you as you enter, your satin black nightgown makes him sit up straighter as you point to the book in his lap. “Good?” You ask before sitting on the end of his bed.

“I haven’t started yet.” He admits making you smile.

“You don’t have to read it if you don’t want to. I can summarize it for you if you like.” You tell him. He finds himself smirking at your words before turning towards you, his feet landing on the wooden floor as you lean back on your hands. “You like to read, huh? You seem very learned.” You look up at the gold ceiling before giggling gently.

“I know a little about a lot.” You say with certainty before looking back at him. His smile grows wider and you tilt your head at the warmth of his smile.

“You don’t hate me, do you?” You ask as the moon peaks out from behind a cloud. Your body becomes illuminated in it’s white light. Jimin leans his temple against the wall as he drinks you in, “No, I don’t hate you. I just find it difficult to adjust to the grandness of this place when my home is just a room.” He says to you and you fold your arms before raising an eyebrow.

“Just a room? I thought The Fertile had their own apartments. Living rooms and our own bathrooms?” You ask sincerely. You had learned from when you were little just how respected The Fertile were. How great their lives were. Jimin gives a surprised giggle at your questions.

“We share showering rooms. Everything in our rooms is white. You get a bed, a toilet, a shelf and that’s pretty much it. We also have a clothing dispenser, we get a new one piece every day.” You widen your eyes at his admission before scoffing gently. So it was a lie?

“And your meals? Doesn’t one food token provide you with half of what we had today?” He shakes his head, eyebrows furrowing at your ridiculous words.

“No. One food token gets you a roll of bread.” You feel embarrassment ripple over you in waves as you put your hand over your mouth. “Oh my Gosh, I’m so sorry! I was taught that...that The Fertile were held high above most others.” You tell him before sitting up straight.

He snorts at your false information before taking his head off of the wall. “Whoever taught you that was a liar. My friend Namjoon has described us like worker bees. Y’know, mindlessly droning on doing our duties without a thought or care.” You find yourself feeling unabashed horror.

“Oh, Jimin. I-I didn’t know. I’m really sorry.” You mumble as he shakes his head. You were kind, way kinder than he gave you credit for earlier. And, genuine. “That’s okay. You didn’t know.”

“I wondered why you weren’t eating earlier.” You whisper more to yourself than to him. He chuckles before folding his arms, “I’m definitely going to eat tomorrow. That steak looked delicious.”

You nod fervently to him before standing, “I’ll be sure to order it. Is there anything else you want to try?” Jimin hums quizzically before snapping his fingers. “Shepards Pie! It’s worth forty food tokens. I’ve never had it before.” You feel your heart ache long and low before nodding to him.

“Sure. Shepherds Pie it is.” He finds your face quite pretty in the moonlight. He holds up the book before wiggling it. “Thanks for letting me read this.” His voice is enwrapped with sincerity that makes you feel soft at his words.

“My library is your library.” You tell him before patting your thighs. You turn towards the door, your nightgown shifting with every step. He clears his throat, taking in the curvature of your supple backside before raising an eyebrow. Was every woman he has mated with this appealing? He can’t seem to find it within himself to agree to that question.

“Y/N.” He calls to you before running his fingers through his hair. You turn to him with a smile.

“You could teach me the contents of the book, if you like? I think it would be fun to see things from your perspective.” He says before tapping the leather cover with his finger. Your smile makes one spread on his face as well, his cheek dimpling slightly as he shrugs.

“Sure. I think that’d be fun. Tomorrow then?” You ask before opening his bedroom door.

“Tomorrow.” He whispers as you nod to him. Watching you leave he finds himself thinking of how warm your touch was earlier at dinner. How soft your fingertips were against the skin of his hand. Intriguing really.

Jin was easier to get along with as days passed. He really wasn't so different from Jimin in all honesty. He was just trying to cope with his situation a bit differently. Although, Jimin couldn't help the twinge of ache in his heart as you smiled freely at the older man. The way your knees would knock together as he caressed your cheek bone or ran his fingers through your hair. He was far more comfortable than Jimin could ever imagine. Jimin began to look forward to late nights with you, staying up and learning about history. He had almost completely forgotten about the experiment, hanging out with you was just simply nice.

"There used to be places where you could go and watch movies in groups. Sit in rows and eat snacks." You tell Jimin as you lay next to each other on his bed. He chuckles gently before turning his head to you. "Oh really? Next you'll tell me there were places to hear people sing." He quips to you before turning on to his side.

Your nightgown ripples as you copy him, your hand pressing underneath your head for support. "There were! They were called concert halls." The corners of his lips quirk up, with the roll of his eyes he presses his lips together.

"You're a know-it-all, Y/N." Your response is a giggle. Your eyes find his as the moonlight invades his now familiar bedroom. Staring at each other, hearts as light as air you find yourself clutching onto something that seems faux. Something unreal and yet, you want it.

"I don't want you to go back to your housing unit." You tell him. He takes a large inhale through his nose before laying on his back. His eyes close, brow creasing as if he’s in pain before sighing gently. “Me either.” He replies truthfully.

He enjoyed being here, having finer things but above all he enjoyed spending time with you. And Jin, coincidentally, no matter how jealous his heart burned with acid at the mere touch of you. He became enthralled by your words, your movements. The subtle way you would cross your legs when Jin would bring up something sexual or the way you would tie up a ribbon in your hair when you read to keep it away from your eyes. He found it enrapturing to listen to your tales of how it was before The Great End, how much you knew about small things and large events. He found himself keen to be with you, wondering from time to time if Jin’s friend Guk felt this way about the mate he claimed he loved.

“I want you to stay with me, both you and Jin. I’m so lonely here in this house.” Jimin’s head turns to you as you grasp his hand. That familiar warmth surging through his bones. His nerve endings feel aflame, goosebumps prickle his skin as he leans towards you. “The babies, if we make them. Will they be yours?” He finds himself asking.

Never one for questions, Jimin couldn’t seem to bear the idea of your children being taken away to the Children's Unit. Nodding to him, he finds himself relaxing slightly. “It wouldn’t be false to say that they would undergo testing for the rest of their lives though.” You mumble to him and his heart twangs with regret.

He’s produced many children, but this child will mean more to him that you could ever seem to realize. He’s bonded with you, grown fond of spending time together. “I don’t want you to get pregnant then.” He whispers before turning his head to look out the window. His eyes linger on the garden beside the mansion, watching the flowers sway in the night breeze.

“I do.” You reply and he shakes his head before sighing.

“Any memory of the both of you is worth it to me.” You tell him honestly, the surge of warmth echoing through both of you as you run your fingers up his bare arm. With a gentle gasp his head lolls back, eyes flitting to the ceiling. “You feel it don’t you? The warmth?” He nods slightly to your question. He could feel the stroke of your fingers, the energy so raw that it makes him lightheaded.

“It feels so good.” He admits as his eyes flutter shut.

“People before used to kiss.” You tell him as you lean your body closer to his. With a sputtering giggle he sits up, keeping your hand over his arm as you begin to smile. “Kiss, what’s that?”

“Pressing your lips together. It was a way people showed their attraction to one another. It was pleasurable.” Raising an eyebrow he snorts. “Seems stupid.” He mumbles, his breath hitching in his throat as your eyes fall to his plush lips.

“I want to kiss you.” You mumble weakly and he licks his lips as a reaction to your admission.

“Y/N.” He whispers as you sit up, your backside falling to the balls of your feet. Your hand leaves his arm, a sudden wave of disappointment flitting through him before you caress the apple of his cheek with your thumb. He gasps gently, the warmth traveling through his skin as he leans into your touch. You lean in closer, his breath fanning over your face as he swallows nervously. “We can’t feel pleasure, Y/N. This is stupid.” He mutters out, more for himself than to you.

“Then I’m stupid.” You quip back before pressing your lips to his. It’s awkward at first, both of you having never done it before. It was wet and your teeth clashed a few times but the feeling was stupendous. His hands grip at your arms, his heart beating faster as he gasps into your mouth. Was this it? Pleasure? You read somewhere that sometimes one would even nibble on the other’s bottom lip. So you try it, earning a groan from him as he wraps his arms around you.

“Oh my God.” He whispers against your lips before pulling you down to the mattress with him. This was it, this was pleasure. Pulling away, he presses his forehead to yours before gasping for air, the tingles that emit throughout his body make his eyes widen. “Am I stupid?” You ask before touching your lips.

“No.” He says breathlessly, “Never.”

Why drink water, why eat when you could kiss? It was something amazing, straight out of a fairytale. Something so potent, you both could never find a comparison. Kissing could last a lifetime, Jimin only hopes. And suddenly, he feels his pajama pants tenting as you pull away from him. His eyebrows furrow as he pulls at the crotch of his pants finding the fabric tightening. He has an erection, without the help of supplements. Clearing his throat, he tugs at the waistband before eyeing his cock. Hard at the thought of your soft skin against his.

He rushes into the bathroom, locking the door behind him before closing his eyes as he sits on the marble bench. His hand grips at his cock, tugging once curiously before gasping at the feeling. His toes curl as his head lolls back. Eyes opening wide as his heart begins to beat harder.

He begins to stroke himself, a choked groan leaving his lips. Clasping his hand over his mouth, his eyes begin to water as precum pools at his slit. This is illegal and yet, he can’t stop. It was forbidden to waste sperm in this society. He thinks of the curvature of your ass, how soft and supple the globes of your ass would be. How pretty and puffy your nipples are and he bites down on the skin of his palm as he whimpers. Even your kiss, how soft and warm your lips are. This is euphoric, the feeling of pleasure coursing white hot through his bones as he begins to stroke his cock faster.

“Jimin? Are you okay?” He hears you faintly through the bathroom door.

“Yes! Fine! Just a minute!” He calls out before he approaches the sink. His hard cock grazing against the cold porcelain sending a shiver down his spine as he stares at himself in the mirror. How could he feel such throes of pleasure? How did this happen? An anomaly. A complete mystery. And, he couldn’t wait to have more.

Leaving the bathroom, Jimin looks over at the bed. His heart hammering in delight as he gazes upon your parted lips. The shallow breaths you take as you sleep soundly in his bed. His feet patter gently on the hardwood floor as he approaches his bed. Sliding underneath the covers, your body presses into his. Your leg lifts onto his as you press your face into his clothed chest. He finds it comforting, in fact. His lips press to your forehead, his body shivering at the delightful warmth before closing his eyes. Can't wait to have more, is right?

Jimin had to undergo observation today. It was just you and Jin. Trying to teach him chess was like trying to teach a penguin to fly. "So if I move my piece here then you'll be able to check me?" He asks for the third time and you giggle before nodding.

You've become fond of the handsome outspoken man that sits before you. He was a fun filled presence in this shit world. Tilting his head he scratches at his band on his wrist. Jimin has fish inside of a woven basket, signifying his fertility but Jin's band was different. "Your band. It's different then Jimin's." Jin follows your gaze before nodding.

"Yeah, in my part of the country fields of wheat signify our fertility." He says before showing you his wrist. You run your thumb over the silver metal, a familiar warmth quite like with Jimin spreads through you and you find Jin smiling with ease. It doesn't seem to bother him or surprise him like it did with you and Jimin. "I feel pleasure." He whispers to you as if he's telling you a massive secret and your eyes widen.

"You said you didn't." You whisper back and he nods at your words.

"I didn't want Jimin to feel left out." He says before running his thumb over your wrist. It would explain how comfortable he was with holding you and lavishing you with attention.

"When did you find pleasure?" You question as he smiles at you, his handsome cheekbones bouncing up as he tilts his head.

"Maybe a year ago. With a girl I was mating with. She taught me so many things before she left." You hum to him and as your thumb passes the band once more, the metal shifts and you see black scrawling underneath the band.

Jin clears his throat before shoving up the band, it's a simple scrawling of a braid and your eyes flit up to Jin's as he puts the band back in place. "A tattoo? Those are illegal." You tell him before leaning back in your arm chair.

"I masterbate. That's illegal too." He quips before folding his arms. He was intriguing, almost viciously so.

"Did you miss her? When she went to The Great Home? The girl that taught you pleasure?" Jin clears his throat at your question before sniffing gently. His eyes fall back to the chessboard as he picks up the pawn.

"She didn't go to The Great Home. She went somewhere else." He mumbles before staring at you. Holding the chess piece up, his fingertips clasping at the base. You tilt your head in confusion as he taps his tattoo.

"Do you know anything about the Fierce?" He asks leaning forward. That was something that was never talked about. Something that was strictly forbidden and just the mention makes you shift uncomfortably in your chair.

"No, and I don't care to." You say as he throws the pawn piece onto your lap. Jin sighs gently, his fingers card through his black hair before he hums gently.

"They still exist, you know." Taking in a deep breath you look at the chess table, the eerie calmness of the large house makes you shift once more as you take in his words. “Jin, you really shouldn’t be talking about this. It’s not right.” You whisper as you put the pawn piece back on the chess table.

“She went Elsewhere. We got pregnant and she left for the Ruins. The Fierce live beyond, beyond the entanglement and the Ruins. They live off the land. Rebuilt old hospitals for the sick and dying, the pregnant.” You stand up at his words, chair scraping loudly against the wooden floors as you fold your arms.

“We could go there, Y/N. All three of us, we could live Elsewhere. We could get pregnant and stay together. You said you didn’t want us to leave you and this way we won’t have to.” Jin says calmly before standing.

Your mind was fuzzy at his words, heart beating rapidly inside your chest as he makes his accusations. “And how do you know?! How do you know that this is all true?” Your voice is filled with nervousness, your questions ending with squeak as he wraps his arms around you. The warmth fills you then, coursing through your body making your limbs feel sluggish. He shows you his tattoo underneath the band before running his lips over your forehead.

“Because I am one of the Fierce. All those people in the Slums, that you so earnestly give your food tokens to have been brought back. The Masters, they lie. The people in the Slums have been discovered when Peace Makers go out for raids. They get brought back, forced to live in dirt and grime as punishment for defying.” You shake your head, eyes welling with tears as he runs a hand over your hair.

“We can do it, Y/N. We can live Elsewhere.” He promises to you, his fingers clasp at your chin. Pulling your head up, he leans down. His plush lips press to yours and you feel the warmth slowly seep through your bones. The Masters, they lie.

Jimin finds it uncomfortable to be in the car by himself. He wore his new clothes today instead of his one piece. He felt more confident in the body fitting wear than he cared to admit. They poked and prodded at him and he went rigid at their touch. A pair of gloved hands had run over the inner skin of his thighs and he remembers pressing his lips together trying to hold still. It was completely new. This sensation of feeling but no one should know he could feel, he would never give them the satisfaction. If the scientists found out he would be taken away. Taken away from you and he couldn’t let that happen.

He was enamoured by you. Simply in awe of your being. Muddy knuckles take him out of his reverie as people knock on the glass windows. He clears his throat awkwardly, before bringing the car to a stop. “Pouch.” He says aloud, shocked that the car obeys his orders.

If you were here, this is something you would do. And, he wants to do right by you. Always. Without a second thought he lowers his window, hand digging into the velvet pouch before producing food tokens. He finds it jarring how far the people from the Slums dip their arms into the car, almost touching his face as he puts coins into their hands. You wouldn’t shy away from them, though. You had a sense of serenity whilst doing this task. It wasn’t like you did it for anyone but them, not even for yourself. You were so giving, beyond in ways Jimin could never imagine. Handing out the tokens, his eyes catch sight of black scrawling on all of the wrists and he tilts his head at the sight.

“What is it?” He asks a woman who thanks him vigorously.

“It’s Elsewhere, my dear boy.” He furrows his eyebrows at her words before rolling up his window. Elsewhere? He’s never heard of the term.

The house was deathly quiet when Jimin arrived back. He assumed you would be in the living room but you weren’t there. Nor in the library where you found sanctuary. Jin was nowhere to be found either. It was odd. “Hello?” He calls out to the home, his echo reverberating off of the walls as he intertwined his fingers delicately in front of him.

“Out back!” He hears Jin call, he sounded breathless and a twinge of jealousy sets into his bones. He sounds like you both have been kissing, like Jimin had done with you so many nights previously. “Foul git.” Jimin mumbles before heading to the backyard.

Setting foot in the backyard, he shys away from your gaze as Jin slings his arm over your shoulders. “Was everything okay?” You ask him as you sit down on the bench, your bare feet sweeping through blades of grass. He hums to you, eyes trying to look anywhere but you before noticing an old looking machine propped up onto the garden table.

“Whoa.” Jimin whispers before approaching it.

“I told you movies were real.” You quip happily as his fingers run over the olden technology.

“How did you get one?” He asks before looking up with wide eyes. “I asked for it, so therefore I get it.” You say happily before patting the bench beside you.

“Who are you?” He questions for what feels like the billionth time before rolling his eyes as you give the same answer as always. His feet trudge over, sitting down next to you on the large bench. You tilt your head, kissing his cheek and he feels sudden relief spread through him at the warmth of your lips.

“People used to film themselves playing as other people, with worded prompts. It’s quite fun!” You say before intertwining your fingers with his. You grab the remote in your hand before pressing the play button. The back of the house was perfect for this and Jimin gasps gently as the wall becomes illuminated with the moving pictures.

“It’s like a hologram.” Jin explains and Jimin nods.

“This movie is called Titanic. It actually happened a long, long time ago.” You tell him and you find comfort as his body leans into yours as the movie begins to play.

The final credits roll and Jimin finally closes his mouth from the amazement he feels. “Wow, that was...incredible. The singing and the way those people played their parts like that. It was fantastic.” He says, noticing how hard he is clutching onto your hand.

“And long, damn. That movie is like four thousand hours.” Jin says and Jimin finds himself smiling at his words.

“They also made very risque movies when people felt pleasure.” He quips an eyebrow at you as you scroll through the contents.

“Risque? Oh, pornography?” Jin asks with a laugh before holding you closer to his body. Jimin feels at a loss as you point to Jin in confirmation.

“Porn.” You say before pressing play. Jimin hums uncomfortably as a man with a pizza box knocks on a front door.

“He’s delivering pizza?! That’s like, thirty food tokens!” Jimin says astounded and you giggle before running your thumb over the back of his hand. He chokes on his spit as a woman answers the door naked. His eyes take in her body and for the first time he finds himself stirring at the sight. She wasn’t anything compared to you though, your breasts were quite a bit more wonderful than hers and he counts himself lucky to have seen them now. Probably before Jin, and the thought sets smugness into his expression.

“Why would you order food without a way of payment?” You ask with a laugh at the ridiculousness.

Jimin was hearing new terms to describe body parts, something about them and the actions he was watching strained his pants as an erection grew. “Pussy.” He mumbles after the man and Jin can’t help but smirk.

“I can teach you, if you like. I’ve seen pornography before.” He tells Jimin. The sudden admission makes him forget about the sexual movie as it plays on the wall. “You have?! That’s so incredible! I would love to learn… Y/N has shown me pleasure, now. I-I feel now.” Jin nods happily before tapping your thigh before standing.

“Come.” He tells the both of you before shutting off the movie and entering the house.

Jin’s bedroom is quite like Jimin's, he notices as Jin sits down on his bed. Leaning against the doorframe, you raise an eyebrow as Jin leans back on his hands. “I lied to you, Jimin. And, I’m sorry for that.” Jin tells him.

“Lied? About what?” He asks gently as you sigh gently.

“I feel pleasure. I lied to you about it because I didn’t want you to feel lonely.” He says quietly. Jimin can’t say he’s angry at this. If anything it seems nice of him to try to make Jimin comfortable, he wasn’t so bad really. “That’s alright, I can experience it now.”

Jin nods to him before looking at you, “Come, baby.” The pet name was new, something heard from the pornography you three had just watched. You knew it was supposed to be a joke but something inside of you stirs at the simple word.

Jimin sits down on the bench at the foot of the bed as you approach the both of them. “Have you mated before Y/N?” You shake your head to Jin’s question and he nods slowly.

“Alright. Would you feel uncomfortable getting naked for us?” He asks as he reaches for your hand. His thumb swiping comfortable strokes over your skin as you swallow thickly. You certainly weren’t uncomfortable with the idea, society had taught you that bodies were just bodies but now with the surge of new found pleasure coursing through your bones it was an absolutely titillating suggestion.

“No. I wouldn’t be uncomfortable.” You whisper and Jin smiles at your words.

“Go on then.” Jimin sits up straighter as your hands reach for the side of your dress. The ribbon comes undone and you squirm gently as the fabric becomes slack.

"So pretty." Jin comments as your collarbones come into view. His praise strengthens your resolve and you showly shrug the dress off of your shoulders. Jimin takes a deep breath through his nose. The lacy underwear that adorns your body is so arousing to both men in front of you and Jimin suddenly wonders how he's never felt this before. He shifts on the bench as Jin lowly whistles. "You're beautiful."

Jimin wishes he knew romantic things to say like that. He wishes he had experience in pleasure before this to truly understand how to get the most out of it. Your hands reach around your back before Jin shakes his head to you. "Come." He stands off of the bed, running his hands over the sheets.

You lay down on the bed, Jin kneeling to one side of you before instructing Jimin to do so. “Nipples and the vagina feel the most pleasurable to a woman, but there are other things too.” He tells Jimin before helping you sit up. He guides Jimin’s hands around your chest and he chokes on a gasp at the warmth of you.

“Unhooking a bra is fundamental. Step one.” He whispers before pushing some stray hairs behind your ear.

“When do you ovulate?” Jin asks as he brushes his lips over the apple of your cheek. “Next week.” He nods gently before pulling away.

“There’s little to no risk of her getting pregnant today, so we can just enjoy each other's company.” He whispers as your nipples begin to harden and strain against the lacy fabric of your bra.

“This is illegal.” Jimin reminds the both of you as he struggles to unlatch your bra. Jin chuckles quietly as his lips roam over your neck, licking small circles over the heating skin. You find yourself moaning, a sound that sets Jimin rigid as he finds it even harder to focus on the task at hand. “Not everything illegal, is bad my friend.” Jin whispers before suckling at your neck.

Finally your bra becomes loose and Jimin sighs happily as he lays you back down gently. Jin pulls the fabric away from you before cooing at your hard nipples. "Baby girl likes it." He mumbles before looking up at Jimin with a glint of deviousness.

Your nipples are pretty, Jimin finds himself thinking and without thought his hands reach out before recoiling. "It's alright. I want you to touch me." You tell him, feeling liquid arousal pool within you. You've never felt this before, this sudden urge and yearning. Feeling like a live wire waiting for a sudden spark.

Jin nods to Jimin before leaning back into your neck. The younger man takes into account how your face distorts with pleasure, quite like the woman in that pornographily you had just watched. He watches Jin pluck at the soft skin of your neck, and he finds his hand absentmindedly reaching for his throbbing cock. "Touching yourself is okay, Jimin. It feels great." He whispers before running his fingertips over your bare stomach. Jimin finds it odd how well Jin controls himself, how his need for pleasure doesn't supersede the need to please you.

"Instead of touching yourself, you can touch Y/N. You can show her how much you want her and it makes your orgasm more worthwhile." Jin instructs before pinning your writhing hips to the bed. Jimin listens, his hands press against your breasts before squeezing gently. Your moan goads him on, feeling powerful that he has made you react in such a way.

His thumbs brush against your hardened nipples and the sob of pleasure you let out makes him recoil quickly. "I'm sorry!" He says confused, simply out of touch with what he should be doing.

"That's okay. You liked it, didn't you sweetheart?" Jin mumbles as his lips trail to the shell of your ear. You nod fervently, body beginning to shake like a leaf as you whimper.

"She's such a good girl. Go on, Jimin. Touch her pretty tits again." Jimin takes a sharp inhale, his eyes snapping to the older man as such filthy words leave his lips as if this is an everyday thing. "This time why don't you try pinching and rolling them gently." He suggests as he pins you down to the bed harder.

"But… These feed our babies… What if I hurt her?" Jimin asks, carding his fingers through his hair.

"You won't. Don't worry. Just try it, I'm sure our pretty girl will adore it." Jin pulls you into a kiss, the feeling sending you reeling for more as Jimin grabs a hold of your breasts once more.

He pinches your nipples gently between his fingertips, rolling them for good measure like Jin had told him. The moan you elicit, has his nostrils flaring as his hips rut into the air. He can feel precum leak from his throbbing cock. "When she moans like that, you can kiss her nicely. You want her to feel good. You can even run your tongue over hers. Like this." Jin thrusts his tongue into your mouth, your back arching as your wet muscles slide over one anothers. You grip at his hair pulling him closer to you on instinct and he hums into your mouth.

"That's it. Good girl, baby." You whimper at his praise, head lolling back as his lips caress your skin again. "You can suckle on her skin, that feels good too. But, if you want to leave your marks you leave them where Peace Makers can't see them. They've been trained to look for such things." Jimin finds all of this information wildly fascinating and he has so many questions for the older man beside him but that goes out the window as Jin ghosts his fingers over your pubic bone.

"Suckle her nipples." He instructs Jimin, earning furrowed eyebrows.

"What, like a baby?" He asks confused. Jin gently pushes his hand away from her right breast before bowing down. "Not quite."

His tongue peeks out and Jimin sits on the balls of his feet as he watches with enraptured eyes. Flicking your nipple with the tip of his tongue, his thumbs caress your hip bones as your back bows off of the bed. Your mind is foggy with lust as you grip at his wide shoulders. Jimin takes the lesson in, hand absentmindedly stroking his cock through his pants as Jin's lips encircle your nipple. He sucks gently, a choked moan starling Jimin as he watches your cheeks tinge pink with pleasure.

You were beautiful, simply gorgeous and he finds his heart swelling as you whimper Jin's name. But, he wants his name to fall from your lips. He wants you to call out to him in your throes of pleasure. Abandoning his cock. His head bows down as Jin lifts up. "That's it." He mumbles as he runs his thumb over your jaw.

Jimin flicks at your nipple gently, eyes on your face as you moan in unabashed pleasure. He suckles sweetly, trying to gauge how to get his name from you. Suckling harder, he groans against you as he finally hears it. He wants more, so much more.

Without a second though, his hands fly to his waistband about to pull down his pants. Jin chuckles good naturedly before tapping his shoulder. "Your time will come. Don't worry. Baby, can I take off your panties? I think you've soaked them through." You furrow your eyebrows before sitting up on your elbows. Lifting your hips, he pulls your panties from your sodden core. Strings of arousal cling to them before breaking and sticking to your inner thighs. "What is it?" Jimin asks aloud.

They were given lube for mating. The men took supplements to get an erection and would lube their cocks before rutting until completion. "It's natural lube. Baby girl produces it herself when she wants to be fucked." You widen your eyes at his words before he taps your knees.

"Spread wide for me, sweetheart." You do as told, enraptured with how wet you are and you gasp gently as Jin splays his fingers in a V motion before spreading your pussy lips. "Look at how wet she is. Does it hurt, baby?" His voice is gentle as he licks his lips.

"Yes." You reply honestly, you could feel your core throbbing with wanting as he nods. "This is her clit-"

"I know what a clitoris is. It's useless." Jimin mumbles, his cheeks flaring at Jin's words. Jin clicks his teeth before wagging his finger from side to side. "When you don't feel pleasure, it's useless. Look how swollen it is. You can see it throbbing. Her body wants you to touch it." Jin mumbles, before tugging at the crotch of his pants as his erection pressed against the confines of the fabric.

He holds up his hand before gathering some of your spilt arousal on his two fingers. He looks up at you, your eyes connecting before he touches his fingers to your clit. Your body shakes, arms falling out beneath you as you moan loudly. The loud noise makes Jimin gasp as Jin rubs smooth circles on your throbbing bud. "Baby, you have to be a bit quieter. Okay? Other people don't know what pleasure is like. They might think we're hurting you." He tells you and you clamp your hand over your mouth as you release a shaky breath.

"Fuck." Jimin curses at how attractive the sight is before him.

"Lick it." Jin instructs him before running his fingers over your inner thighs.

"Lick her clit?" Jimin asks as he kneels between your legs.

"Yeah, lick it. It tastes good. Feels good to get her thrashing beneath you." Watching the handsome man bend down between your legs is so erotic, your eyes widen at the notion of his tongue on you. "I'm going to hold your hips down, sweetheart. You're going to move quite a bit." Jin tells you as he places his hands on your hips.

Jimin's tongue hangs loose, the scent of your arousal wafting through his nose. He groans at the delicious smell, his eyes widening as he gives a flat stripe to your sex. You whimper loudly into your palm as your eyes begin to brim with tears. "Your pussy is so pretty, baby." Jin coos to you as you clamp your hand tighter over your mouth.

Jimin gives a kitten lick to your clit before looking up at Jin as you writhe underneath his grasp. He winks at the younger man and Jimin does it once more for good measure. Your arousal was thick and sweet on his tongue. The taste driving him mad as he ruts his hard cock against the mattress to take off some of the edge. “Tastes good?” Jimin moans in response as he licks another flat stripe over you.

“Suckle her clit.” Jin whispers before bending down and moving your hand. He kisses you with furious need, his tongue roaming over yours as Jimin begins to suckle gently on your clit. You moan loudly into his mouth, thighs beginning to tremble as Jimin suckles harder. You feel your channel beginning to clench around nothingness, stomach tightening as you grasp onto Jin’s shoulders once more.

“Put a finger in her pussy.” He instructs quickly as he pulls away. You whimper out, eyes screwing shut as white hot pleasure courses through you. “I-In?” Jimin asks loudly.

Jin pushes him over before running his finger around the tight ring of virgin muscle. “She’s so fucking wet.” He whispers more to himself then to his younger counterpart. He presses his finger to your sex, your muscle swallowing him greedily and he lets out a choked chuckle at your tightness.

“Oh, sweetheart, your pussy is so tight.” He enters his finger in slowly, your hips lifting off of the bed for more as your body careens towards the precipice of pleasure. “She has a spot inside of her, that if you stroke it nicely she gets great pleasure from.”

Jimin hums, distracted by how sweet you taste. His eyes on your pleasured face as he licks faster against your clit. He wants to see you reach the peak. He wants you to fall into utter bliss beneath his ministrations. Jin curls his finger upward before finding the soft patch of muscles within you. Your legs lock, toes curling as tears roll down your cheeks. “Good girl.” Jin praises as you clamp your hand over your mouth.

With a loud, long moan your pussy convulses around his finger. Your vision goes white behind your eyelids as you whimper loudly. You feel euphoric, completely and utterly blissed out as you sob. “There. Good job, baby.” Jin whispers before kissing over your thigh.

Jimin sits up watching your cunt try to milk Jin’s finger and he swallows thickly as his cock throbs within his pants. “Come back down to us.” He whispers before pulling out of you slowly. Your breath is ragged as you lift your head sluggishly.

“I’m going to teach you how to please us with your mouth now, okay sweetheart?” Jimin furrows his eyebrows in surprise and you nod willingly before sitting up.

“I’m going to show you on my cock and then Jimin is going to take your pussy. Does that sound good?” He asks before putting his finger in his mouth, groaning gently at your taste. You just felt the most phenomenal pleasure and you couldn’t wait for more. You nod vigorously to Jin and he gives you a sweet smile before helping you sit up.

Jimin sits back on his heels as Jin tugs down his pants to his knees. Your eyes widen at his large size. You could never have expected to see him this big. Long and thick, rosy colored veins greet your eyes and you whimper at the sight. His bulbous head was an angry shade of red and the precum that pools at his slit makes your mouth water as it slaps against his shirt. He strips himself of the fabric before smirking.

He knew what he packed but to see you ogle it makes him that much more impressed with himself. Your eyes coast over his golden skin, the way small abs present themself with every deep breath he takes. He was truly handsome, and all yours now that you think about it. “Come.” He whispers before holding his hand out.

Grasping your wrist, he presses your hand to his cock before shuddering slightly at your warm touch. “Grip it.” He instructs and you do so willingly. The sight so arousing Jimin finds himself whimpering beside you both.

“Take out your cock, Jimin. It’s okay.” Jin whispers before his eyes flutter shut as you stroke him once for good measure. Feeling every contour and muscle underneath his smooth skin as you watch precum lazily traipse down his length.

Jimin pulls down his pants, slipping off his shirt a moment after and you take a second to take him in too. His cock was almost as big as Jin’s maybe an inch or so shorter but he was thicker, so thick you wouldn’t be able to wrap your hand around it and touch your thumb to your index finger. “Oh Christ.” You mumble before licking your lips. Eyes glazing over Jimin’s eight pack you feel Jin’s finger tap delicately on your cheek.

“Right here, sweetheart. Let me teach you.” You look back over, eyes lingering for a second as Jimin’s cock twitches underneath your gaze before giving Jin your attention. “Lick the head.” He instructs before grabbing your hair away from your face.

With a whimper your head bows down, you give a test lick only to hear him gasp through clenched teeth above you. Your thighs press together at the noise, wanting rekindling within you. You lick at his precum, curious of the taste before moaning. He was thick on your tongue, the salty musk enrapturing your taste buds as your eyes widened. “Taste good?” He asks, running his thumb over your collarbone.

You hum in response as you lick at more as it pools mercilessly. “Good. Some women don’t like it.” He tells Jimin who can’t seem to hear him as his heart beat fills his ears. He grunts gently at the arousing sight. Cock throbbing for release as he watches you. "Swirl the head with your tongue." Jin whispers gently, his hand grasping tighter at your hair as he waits.

You do as told, earning a gentle moan from him and as if on instinct you do it once more before bobbing your head down. He moans loudly then, head lolling back as he curses. "Fuck! Good girl, just like that!" You whimper at the heaviness of his cock on your tongue. You can feel the warmth of his precum coat your mouth as you begin to bob your head over his long length. Whatever couldn't fit was diligently stroked within your grasp. "Ah, s-shit! You sure you haven't d-done this before? Fuck!" He whines and a smile spreads over your lips knowing your pleasing him so well.

"When she's- fuck- she's sucking your cock you can pinch and roll her nipples like before." Jin tells Jimin before doing so. You moan at his touch, the vibrations of your mouth have his hips thrusting towards you. You gag gently, eyes watering with tears as you whimper. "Aren't you hurting her?" Jimin asks as he wipes stray tears from your cheeks.

"Am I hurting you, baby?" Jin asks delicately as he rolls your nipples lovingly. You shake your head slightly and your tongue licks over his base feeling power surge within you.

"Oh shit! Good girl!" He mumbles through clenched teeth. Saliva and precum dribble from your mouth, gliding over your chin and Jimin can't take much more. His hand grips at his cock, gasping at the pleasure as he strokes himself. "Stop. Save it for her pretty pussy." Jin finds it within himself to warn Jimin.

With a huff, he lets his cock go before the older man grips at your head. "I'm going to fuck your face. Tap my thigh if you understand." You tap repeatedly, wanting to feel whatever he gives you. "Sheathe your teeth as best you can." He tells you before thrusting his cock into your mouth.

You whimper at the action, gasping for air as he grits his teeth. Your eyes meet his, his pupils blown out as he purchases his plush bottom lip between his teeth. "Fuck! You're so good at this! So pretty letting me rut inside of your little mouth." He murmurs and you feel your pussy begin to clench around nothing once more as you feel his cock grow thicker and longer within your mouth.

"Play with her beautiful nipples, Jimin. Please our girl." He whispers before groaning. Jimin presses his chest to your back, hands reaching around your chest to pluck at your nipples delicately. Whimpering and moaning underneath his ministrations, you find it wildly difficult to concentrate on just about anything.

"Feel my cock throbbing?" Jin asks you as he runs his thumb over your cheekbone. You whimper in response to him before feeling Jimin's cock glide through your soaked thighs. He moans loudly, pressing his forehead to the back of your head. "I'm going to orgasm for you, sweetheart. Do you want to taste my cum?" You moan loudly in response, so curious to know what it must be like.

Jimin knocks your knees open with his own, primal wanting taking over him as he grazes your shoulder with his plush lips. He runs his cock through your soaked folds. The bulbous head of his cock, dragging deliciously against your clit with each rut. "Y/N. Fuck. I'm cumming, baby." Jin announces as he grips your head harder.

His thrusts become uneven, eyes rolling back in his head as he stills within your mouth. His cock erupts, ropes of warm cum coat your mouth and tongue. You take a deep breath through your nose before swallowing diligently. He moans loudly, hand clamping over his mouth as his body shakes with pleasure. Jimin's eyes are enraptured by the sight, simply yearning for more as he gathers your arousal on his cock. "Wow. Fuck, that was incredible. Thank you, baby." Jin whispers before pulling his softening cock from your mouth.

He takes notice of how Jimin ruts between your legs before raising his eyebrows. "Lay down for Jimin, baby. He needs some serious relief." Jimin groans at the loss of your heat before spreading your legs and situating himself between them. He was no stranger to this part, he was quite good stamina wise.

He grips at his cock before lining up to your entrance only to have a hand placed on his shoulder. "This is going to hurt her, you'll want to be gentle." He cocks his head to the side.

"I've taken a virginity before. She didn't feel pain." He tells Jin curiously as he lays down beside you.

"This is different now, she might bleed. You have to be gentle." Jimin nods, not seeing the point in going back and forth. Jin clearly knew so much more than him.

Jimin's eyes meet yours before softening. You were so beautiful. Truly. "Are you ready?" He asks quietly.

"Ready." You reply, your hips wiggling with excitement and he can only smile at your earnestness. He prods at your entrance, eyebrows furrowing at how tight your virgin hole is. You grit your teeth as he begins to stretch you. It surely is painful. You gasp with a groan before Jin's lips press to your neck. "Shhh. It's okay, baby. You're okay." Jin whispers before suckling at the skin.

"I'm sorry." Jimin finds himself saying before inching more of himself inside. He moans loudly at your warm, tight channel. Your muscles simply refuse to stretch for him. He bows down as he enters himself to the hilt, his lips suck at your nipples to try and ebb the pain away. "Think about how nice this will be when you're ovulating, hmm? How nice it will be when we get you big and pregnant for us." You whimper at Jin's words as he ghosts his hand over your empty womb.

"How pretty you'll look swollen with our children inside of you. Taking care of them like a good mommy." Jimin feels your cunt relax around him and he gives a small thrust to test it. You both moan, his forehead faltering to the valley of your breasts. His arms shake as he holds himself up. Never before has he felt this euphoria course through him. He whimpers your name gently and you take a small gasp at how loving your name is said upon his lips. "You feel so good. So beautiful." Jimin whispers before kissing over your breasts as he begins a slow pace. You can only moan for him, legs wrapping around his waist as he ruts himself inside of you.

"Fuck! Jimin!" He lifts up only to press his lips to yours. Pleasure was one thing but he feels his heart strings tugging as you moan his name. He can feel this overwhelming surge of emotion take over him as he begins to fuck you faster. Jin's fingertips roll your nipples between then as you lift your hips to each thrust. Moaning loudly into each other's mouths, you run your tongue over his and his hand clamps around the back of your head. His thumb leaves loving strokes against your temple as he gasps into your mouth. He's felt his cock throb for release before but it was always a dull, unpleasurable feeling. Now, he can't help the way his thighs tremble with excitement as your pussy begins to clutch around his.

"Rub her clit so she'll orgasm on your cock." Jin instructs before pinching your nipples harder. Jimin finds it a shame to let your head go from his grasp but he takes pleasure in seeing your back bow as he rubs circles on your clit.

"J-Jimin! Yes! Please, more!" You gasp out as he groans for you. Using the last bit of strength, he bulldozes himself inside of you. Feeling your velvet walls fucked open by his thick cock. He can feel your cervix folds with every thrust, he wants to get his cum deep inside your womb. "Fuck! Fuck! Y/N!" He cries out as Jin clamps his hands over both of your mouths. You reach climax first, your pussy milking Jimin for his cum as white noise fills your ears.

"So tight! Fuck!" He whines against Jin's hand as his body falls over yours. He feels it then, his cock growing thicker as pleasure freezes him still. He ruts gently as he moans your name, tears spilling over his cheeks as his cum paints the walls of your cunt. You gasp gently at the warmth as it spreads through you. You sob with the aftershocks of pleasure as Jimin wraps his arms around you. Burying your face into his neck, you kiss over his sweat sheened skin. His eyes meet yours and you both smile at each other.

You kiss his plush lips before turning your head to Jin. "I want to go Elsewhere." You whisper to him and a smile spreads widely on his face before kissing you deeply.

"Anywhere you want to go, we will take you." Jim mumbles against your lips before looking at Jimin.

"You'll do it, won't you? We'll get her pregnant and get away. Where we can be a family?" Jin asks the younger man. Jimin pulls out of you gently before pressing his lips into a straight line. He's never been one to want anything, always simply going along with what has been given to him. But now, he can feel. He no longer wanted to be stagnant. He wanted you, and he never wants to let that go.

"Yes. I will go Elsewhere." He says before chuckling as you tackle him into a hug.

Going Elsewhere was not as easy as it seems apparently, there was a lot to do in very little time. It was a stretch to say the experiment would work immediately but you needed to be ready to leave in two weeks time. Just in case. You had taken the boys to every appointment you had, just to be able to drive through the Slums. Seokjin would show his tattoo to the men and women that would approach the car and he would talk to them. Asking news of where the Fierce leave from in order to make their way to the Ruins. You began ordering extra water and things of that nature to store in the house for when you were meant to leave. Jin would roll down the car window, handing food tokens for extra information before receiving a very dirtied piece of parchment that has directions on how to escape. There was a wall, slightly broken and unelectrified from a previous engagement with Peace Makers that you could scale to get away. It was risky, dangerous even as the wall stood ten feet tall but you three had agreed to do it. Although, Jimin felt it necessary to always interject his worries.

"What about the babies. If she falls, they could get hurt." He whispers aloud as you all eat dinner. You have gotten so close lately. Jimin even found himself admiring the older man to his left instead of the burning jealousy he once felt for him. "We won't let them get hurt, Chim. Don't worry. The babies and Y/N will be safe. I promise you." Jin says before putting his hand over Jimin's. He nods to the older man before eating a piece of his steak.

You look up at them both, pressing the linen napkin to your lips your head tilts. So fond of these men in your home. So loving in nature they are for you and you finally think it's time to tell them. "I have something I want to say." You whisper before sipping the purple tinted water as they look over at you.

They give you their undivided attention, putting down their utensils and all as they smile at you. It makes you nervous in a way. What if they come to hate you because of your admission? You clear your throat before leaning back in your chair. "Jimin always asks me who I am and I always reply that I'm just Y/N but that isn't true now is it?" You ask before looking between both of the handsome men as they raise their eyebrows. "I get everything I want and...do whatever I please because...I'm...well...I'm…" You take a deep breath before giving a nervous giggle.

"We love you anyway. You don't have to tell us." Jimin whispers and your heart leaps into your throat at his words. He was the one that always asked you and now it was suddenly okay? They would always wonder and it isn't fair. Not really.

"I'm the Head Masters daughter." Your words tumble past your lips so fast you aren't sure if they even heard you. Jin hums before nodding. "Wow." Jimin mumbles before scratching the top of his head.

"I just...thought you should know. Sin-since I was keeping this from you." You whisper before looking down at your lap.

"Hey. Hey." Jin whispers before grabbing your hand over the table. "This doesn't change a thing. Does it, Jimin?" Jimin shakes his head quickly before grabbing your other hand.

"We so earnestly love you. This changes nothing. We'll just have to be more careful when leaving. When we get Elsewhere you won't be anyone's daughter. You'll be a wife and a mother. That's all. Hmm?" Jin kisses your hand before looking into your eyes.

"He lied. He taught me all wrong information and kept me here away from everyone else. To protect me." Jimin nods at your words before clicking his teeth.

"Guess we'll just tell our own kids the truth then, won't we babe?" You nod at his words before he kisses your temple.

"That's all. See. Nothing to it. Love is stronger than lies that generations before us have built." Jin mumbles before standing. You nod slowly before feeling a weight lift off of your chest as he rounds the table. "Come Jimin. Let's show our girl how much we love her."

Today was the day, climbing into the car your knees bounce as the two men you have grown to love sit opposite of you in the car. "Two eggs. It's incredible." Jimin whispers before looking at the document on his lap. He's gotten comfortable with the idea of becoming a father. Loving this child unconditionally with you and Jin by his side.

"Do you want to go first when we get back? You can't seem to keep your hands off our pretty girl." Jin says with a laugh as Jimin rakes his thumb over your bare knee. Jimin notices this before chuckling to himself. He doesn't pull away however, if anything he leans forward more as he looks up at you. His small eyes wrinkling with happiness before the car comes to a halt at the Slums.

Jin leans past Jimin, lowering the window before giving out food tokens to the Fierce who have been reclaimed by this dreadful society. "May the Mother deliver you Elsewhere." A woman says to Jin who replies back with the same words before closing the window.

"The Mother?" You ask as the car continues to push on.

"Mother Earth. The infinite mother who will always reclaim what has been stolen from her." He says before pointing at the Ruins in the distance. Your eyes focus on the ivy that crawls up rubble and abandoned buildings before nodding. Jin is wise. Wise, indeed.

Jimin looks between the both of you before clearing his throat, "What happens if Y/N only gets pregnant with one child? Or perhaps gets a set of twins from just one of us?" He asks gently. Jin looks at him before slinging his arm over the younger man's shoulder.

"Then we'll continue to try. Again and again for years to come until we die of old age." He jeers making Jimin laugh before nodding. To think of a future with just these two men that you love, without having to be alone anymore it's far greater than any gift you could ever receive.

Entering the house, as soon as the doors close from public eyes you are swept off your feet by Jimin as he presses a passionate kiss to your lips. "Hi beautiful." He whispers before ascending the stairs as you giggle.

With Jin hot on your trail you find it oddly satisfying to know that you could possibly be with child from the both of them by the end of the night. He gives you a smirk as Jimin kicks the door of your bedroom open with his foot. "I'm so excited." Jimin whispers, earning a laugh from Jin.

"We see." He replies, finger pointing at Jimin's pants before kneeling beside you and pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. It is with this kiss, that your hips lift off of the bed. Jimin's fingers slowly undo the belt that keeps it wrapped at your side. His hands push at the fabric, warmth radiating from his touch as he drifts over your stomach. “So pretty.” Jin whispers against your lips.

His touch is gentle as he lifts you up, undoing your bra in a quick fashion that makes Jimin practically sulk. Even with all the practice these past days, he wasn’t as skilled at the task like the older man. “Are you excited, sweetheart?” Jin asks peeling away the bra to reveal your hard nipples.

With a whimper you nod, arousal unfurling within you. “That’s our girl. Excited to get pregnant for us, hmm? Get swollen with our children and show us how fertile your womb is.” Jimin licks at his plush lips before tapping your hip. You lift at his command, his fingers hooking into the sides of your panties before slowly peeling them down. He never gets tired of seeing your natural lubricant. Never gets tired of the taste or the sweet scent. It was perfect.

He spreads your legs as Jin suckles red and pink marks to the skin of your breasts. His arms enwrap you as your back bows off of the bed, panting and begging for more. Jimin spreads your pussy lips, finding it pretty how your clit becomes swollen with need. "Your pussy is so swollen, baby. You want our babies that badly?" You whimper loudly. He's gotten much more comfortable with speaking such words, words that have you completely undone within a matter of seconds.

He licks a flat stripe up your sex, watching your body sag into the mattress as you grab onto Jin's arms. "So wet." He mumbles before his lips attach to your clit. Suckling gently, his arms wrap around your thighs as you writhe beneath him.

Fuck food tokens, this was the only thing he cared to eat for the remainder of his days. "Such a good girl you are." Jin whispers before abandoning your breast to give love to the other.

"Chim eats your pussy so well, doesn't he sweetheart?" Jin mumbles against your nipple as you beg for more. Jimin hums in response, letting go of one leg to prod two fingers at your weeping cunt. He found the golden spot not long after Jin had taught him where it was, he was getting quite good at pleasing you. So much so that Jin kept telling him how arrogant he was becoming.

"Behave." Jimin chides you before entering his fingers inside of you. Moaning gently you whisper his name, fueling his deepest desires as he curls his fingers upward to the soft muscle patch inside of you. "Your breasts are going to be so beautiful full of milk for our children." Jimin closes his eyes at Jin's words. Groaning at the thought, he suckles harshly against your clit. Fingertips dragging quickly against the spot inside of you, he relishes at how your thighs clench around him. "That's right, beautiful. Cum for me." Jimin whispers before rubbing smooth circles on your bundle of nerves.

"Oh fuck! Fuck! Jimin!" You whine loudly as Jin presses his lips to yours. You moan loudly into his mouth as Jimin continues his ministrations against your pussy. You feel the now familiar bubbling within you, raring to let go. Rolling and pinching your nipples, Jin goads you towards your release before pulling away from your lips. "Cum for Chim and we'll put our babies inside of you, sweetheart." Your mind becomes foggy, eyes squeezing shut as Jimin fucks you quickly with his fingers.

He can feel your pussy begin to pulse around his fingers, and he lets out a wanton moan as your legs clamp around him tighter. "That's it, beautiful."

"Cum." It comes out as almost a growl from Jimin before you're submitting to his word. White noise fills your ears as you moan loudly. "Good girl, sweetheart."

A flush of wetness leaves your sopping cunt and Jimin gasps gently before looking up at the older man beside him. Your hips wiggle and they watch you ride out your high. “I’ve heard people say that women can do such a thing. I’ve never seen it before.” Jin mutters out before bending down to kiss you.

Jimin watches as your tongues swipe over one anothers. Watching how your hips lift at the arousing act. He strips himself of his pants before hissing as he grasps his cock in hand. He still hasn’t been able to keep his desires quite at bay like Jin but he’s definitely getting better. He finds comfort in seeing you so pleased beneath the both of them. Spreading your legs, he taps the head of his cock to your clit just to watch you whimper into Jin’s mouth. “Eyes right here, babe. Let’s go.” Jimin whispers before running his hands over your thighs.

The warmth that creeps through his body, the tingling of fervent needs sets his mind aflame with passion. He watches as Jin pulls away from you slowly, strings of spit clinging to both of your lips as he trails his thumb over your bottom lip. Prodding the head of his cock to your entrance, he shivers as your heat seeps into his bones. He enters you slowly, both of your mouths opening wide as you groan. He was so thick, stretching your needy cunt so well.

“You’re so wet, baby. Fuck.” He whispers before leaning down, his lips encircling your peaked nipples before whimpering. Thrusting in slowly, he savors the way your cunt clutches around him. Begging his cock to get you full of his cum. He sheathes himself to the hilt in your warm, his eyelids fluttering shut at the softness of your cervix folds. “So fertile for my child. So ready to become the mother of my baby.” He whispers above your breast before his eyes meet yours.

His blown out irises show emotions he never thought he could have. Love. Passion. Pleasure. You’ve taught him so much in such a short time and he would never have to leave you again for a second. “You’ve taught me what love is, what love can be.” He whispers before pressing his plush lips to yours. Jin watches on, heart swelling as he smiles at the sight before him.

He pulls out of you slowly, taking pleasure in the moan you give as he pries your pussy open. “Look at that.” Jin whispers to himself before taking off his own pants. Snapping his hips hard, Jimin thrusts back inside of you before burying his face into your neck. “Going to look so beautiful full of our children. So big and round. Shit.” He whispers into the crook of your neck as his thighs shake with tremors of unabashed pleasure.

“Your pussy is so needy for it, so needy for my cum. Isn’t it baby?” Your back bows off the bed as he begins to pick up his pace. Bulldozing you deeper into the mattress as he moans your name. “I want it! I want your cum deep inside me! Want your babies!” You choke out as you run your fingers through his hair.

“Spread your legs wider sweetheart, take his cock deep in your needy cunt.” Jin whispers as he strokes himself gently to take some of the edge off. Doing as told, your legs butterfly open wider. “Press her knees to her chest.” Jin instructs Jimin.

Jimin’s hands grip at your knees as he pushes them to your breasts, eyes faltering to the sight of his cock disappearing quickly into your pussy. His thighs were so wet with your arousal, the delicious squelching echoing throughout the master bedroom as his eyes screw shut. Jin’s fingers begin to rub circles on your clit, watching as you whimper out the younger man’s name. “Fuck, you’re going to be a good girl and take it. Isn’t that right? You’re going to take my cum deep into your pussy and give me what’s mine. Give me my child.” Jimin mumbles as he runs his fingers through his hair, sweat gracing his golden abs as he forces his thick cock deeper inside of you. He can feel the barrier of your soft cervix and he grits his teeth as every thrust meets it.

The pleasure builds within you, your hips lift higher as Jimin whispers your name like an ardent poem on his lips. The new angle has Jin’s hand clamping over your mouth as you sob loudly for him. Your body shakes like a leaf as every thrust brushes against the soft muscle within you. Your eyes become spotty, ears becoming dull to everything else as Jin rubs quicker circles on your clit. “I love you. I love you.” Jimin moans like a prayer as he grips at your hips.

He could feel his balls tightening, his pleasure coming to the precipice. “Oh shit. You’re such a good girl! So ours. Fuck, baby! I’m going to cum! Going to put my child in you! Fuck!” He whines loudly as you grip at the sheets beside you, knuckles going white as your back bows off the bed.

The pressure within you is intense, so much so you find yourself drooling and babbling against Jin’s hand as he whispers sweet words in your ear. You can feel your head fogging over as he slaps your clit with his hand. The sharp sting coursing through you like a song. “That’s it! Y/N! That’s it. I feel it, I feel your cunt trying to milk my thick cock. Cum for me, baby. Show me how much you want my child.” Jimin begs with a moan as he pinches your nipples roughly.

With a sharp yelp, you tip over the precipice. Careening into a white void as you orgasm for the second time. Jimin gasps loudly, covering his mouth with his hand as he ruts himself inside of you, chasing his own orgasm as you become boneless before him. “Such a good girl cumming for Jimin’s cock like that.” Jin whispers before trailing his thumb over your jaw.

Whispering your name repeatedly Jimin stills within you. A gentle whimper leaving his lips as he orgasms. Ropes of warm cum lather your aching cunt and you sigh gently at the feeling. “How beautiful you are.” He whispers before leaning down and pressing his lips to yours. You whine gently as he thrusts his softening cock inside of you trying to let every last drop of his cum coat your insides.

“I love you.” You mumble against his lips and his smile takes your breath away. He nuzzles his nose to yours before kissing you once more. “I love you too.”

He pulls out gently, looking over at Jin before nodding. “Flip onto your front and lift your hips so we can keep as much of Jimin’s cum inside of you while I fuck you.” Jin whispers and you do as told. Angling your hips up, you whine at the odd feeling as Jin shoves Jimin’s cum back inside of your cunt as it oozes from your tight hole. “Gotta keep as much as we can. I want you to get nice and big for us.” He whispers as his lips graze over your shoulder blades.

It fills Jimin with pride as he watches your cunt cream with his cum, his eyebrow raising at the sheer eroticism of it. That’s his cum, his baby being made within you and his heart swells at the notion. He lays on his back beside you, head dipping underneath your arms as they hold themselves up to suckle at your puffy nipples. With a whimper you ready yourself for more, hips wiggling as Jin knocks your knees open with his own.

“Ready, sweetheart? I’ll be gentle. For now.” He whispers before prodding his cock at your entrance. You hum in affirmation as Jimin rolls your other nipple between his fingertips. “I can’t wait till your breasts are swollen with the milk of our children.” He whispers beneath you and your breath hitches as Jin’s cock begins to spear your cunt open for him.

He thrusts in slowly, trying to shove Jimin’s cum past your cervix folds as he groans at how lewdly wet and tight you are. “Fuck, you’re so messy with Chim’s cum. Shit. Feels so good on my cock.” Jin mumbles and your body shudders as he buries himself to the hit. You can feel a dull pain flaring at your cervix folds as the head of his cock nestles against them. He gives shallow thrusts trying to fuck the younger mans cum deeper inside of you before groaning. Your eyes flutter shut as you whimper his name.

You feel so full, and yet, so ready for more. Jimin moves his head out of the way letting your body rest on the mattress as you bury your face into the pillow. Jimin’s hand lazily drifts over your cum filled womb as Jin begins to give harsher thrusts. His cock frothing Jimin’s cum as he grips at your hips. “You’re so loved and so precious, sweetheart. I hope you know this.” Jin whispers before snapping his hips back to you. The globes of your ass jiggle upon impact and he can’t help but smack the flesh with his hand as a groan leaves his lips.

“Jin!” You whine loudly into the mattress as he fucks you faster. Gentle moans and groans leaving his throat as Jimin keeps his hand over your full womb. “You like it, sweetheart? You like getting fucked stupid by the two men who love you? Like getting pumped full of cum to bear our children inside of you?” He asks through gritted teeth as he kneads at the flesh of your ass.

He lets out a grunt as your pussy clenches at his words. “So fucking ready to be a mother. So beautiful bearing your fertile cunt for us to breed. You’re so amazing, sweetheart. Fuck, I love you.” Jimin takes a sharp breath through his nose at his words and finds it hard within himself to deny how fond he’s grown of the older man before him.

Jin lets out a whine as Jimin’s hands dip between the apex of your thighs. He rubs smooth circles onto your clit as you buck your hips back to Jin at every thrust. “Oh shit! Sweetheart, I can feel your pussy begging for it. Cum on my cock.” He punctuates every word with a harsh thrust, fingers gripping at your hips almost to the point of bruising.

“Gonna cum again for us, babe? Suck our cum deep in your fertile pussy? Hmm?” Jimin asks, his breath fanning over your neck and face as he hovers above your ear. Jin lets go of your hip to wrap his hand around the back of your neck, pulling you back on to his cock with a force that makes your legs quiver and your breath get hitched within your throat. He lets out a broken sob of pleasure as his head lolls back, eyes screwing shut as he moans wantonly.

“I’m cumming!” You whine lowly into the mattress as Jin presses his chest to your back. He feels your pussy twitch repeatedly around his cock, getting ready to milk him as your pleasure builds towards its peak once more. “That’s it, sweetheart. Cum for me, cum on my big cock.” You whimper at his words, eyes rolling back in your skull as Jimin pinches your clit like Jin has taught him.

You were a beautiful sight to behold as you orgasm. The way your knuckles clenched tightly at the sheets, as they turned ghost white. The loud, voracious moan that becomes stuttered into the mattress as you call out Jin’s name. You can hear your heartbeat in your ears as he gasps for you, your pussy clenching tightly around him as your muscles goad his orgasm. “Oh yes. Fuck! I’m cumming!” Jin murmurs in unabashed pleasure as he uses his final ounce of energy to bulldoze himself inside of you.

He presses his forehead to the crook of your neck as his hips stutter. His lips caress your shoulder as he orgasms. Ropes of cum caress your filled womb as he whispers your name. "Good girl sweetheart. You're incredible." Jimin smirks at the sight as your body struggles to hold itself up.

Pulling out of you slowly, Jin's hand caresses your bare back as he kisses over your face. "Stay like this for just a few more minutes, hmm? Let the cum get as deep as possible." He mutters before kissing the top of your head.

Jimin runs his hand over your back before pressing his face into your neck. "We love you." He whispers before laying down beside you. Pressing his lips to your forehead he closes his eyes. "Elsewhere soon." Jin hums to his words.

"Elsewhere soon."

"Fourteen bottles of water, nutrient blocks, water purifier, pain killers, bandages, hooks and rope." Jin reads off the list as you sit in the living room, his hand rubbing at your stomach before putting his feet up on the coffee table.

Jimin nods before throwing the duffel bag on the floor. "The clothes bag. You have that?" Jimin asks before looking at you. You point to the bag at your feet before clearing your throat. "I asked for some baby clothes and I got some. Diapers as well, the Masters thought I was nesting." You tell them as Jimin sits up to meet your eyes.

"Good. We'll at least have a little something for them." He whispers before looking over at Jin. "When nightfall comes, we'll put the bags in the car. We’ll go tomorrow for the tests and if it’s positive we’ll get out in the Slums and make our way towards the wall.” Jin whispers as he runs his thumb over the black ink on his wrist.

There was this sort of false confidence in the air, each one of you saying positive things without trying to dwindle on the negatives. There could be lots of things that go wrong but you didn’t want to think of them. You couldn’t. Getting to Elsewhere, you would be free. You could have a family with them. Living off the land and simply being together. That sounds perfect, you couldn’t let anything get in your way. Especially nervousness.

Clearing your throat you lean back into the couch before crossing your arms. “Hey.” Jin says calling both of your attention as he sits forward. “We’re going to be just fine.”

He kisses your cheek before pulling you into his chest, he smells of fresh soap and lingonberries. It’s a scent that keeps you grounded to the Earth as Jimin sits beside you. “We’re going to be fine.” Jimin utters before kissing your temple.

The outside world never seemed to look so cruel until now. You never thought about how grimy and dull everything was until you were able to truly feel. You never had bile rising in your esophagus as you watched Peace Makers hit people in the fields if they didn’t work fast enough. “Jesus.” Jimin mumbles before looking down at his lap as the car drives by. Jin runs his hand over the bags before looking at you. He gives a smile, trying to be reassuring but you can’t seem to return it. You had so many questions, so much anxiety of what’s to come and sitting in this small car only makes it that much worse.

“They have fields of animals in Elsewhere.” Jin perks up trying to distract you and you’re grateful for the sudden distracting words. “Do you know how to even milk a cow?” Jimin asks before looking back out the window as his knee begins to jump up and down.

“I can learn. To feed our family.” He whispers before looking at the silver band on his wrist. Our family. Those two words have your chest puffing up as the fields change to civilization. The restored buildings look tacky now that you really look at them. Concrete buildings boarded up and looking menacing greet your eyes as the car drives by people walking on the streets. Their fashion was quite like yours, holding folders in their arms with the word Classified stamped on them in big red letters. Everything about this society is a fucking lie. It's gobsmacking, truly. Nothing about this place is real. Everyone kept in a giant pig pen of a ten foot wall to insure there would be no escape.

When you’re found you’re put in the Slums to live out your days, injected with a disease that slowly eats away at the cortex of your brain. Making you frail and damaged. Passing through the Slums now, your heart thuds heavily as you grit your teeth. You would get away. No one would stop you.

Poking and prodding by the scientists is unbearable at this point. Your body feels like a live wire, as they probe you to check for signs of impregnation. Gritting your teeth to keep your legs from jumping you begin to count the tiles on the ceiling. Then you begin to count the flecks of black that speckle them. “You are pregnant.” The words have your head lifting up quickly, almost pulling a muscle in your neck as you widen your eyes.

“Yeah? How many?” You ask before narrowing your eyes at the sonogram screen.

“Two.” You breathe a sigh of relief before seeing the long needle that is behind the scientist as she checks the fetuses. You were pregnant, and now this was go time. You couldn’t afford to be scared or worried. You have to focus on what will be. And, you will be getting out of this pig pen.

“What’s that needle for?” You ask the woman as she pulls the probe from you.

“To take blood from the fetuses and to check who’s babies these are.” You hum before laying back. You hope it’s one from either of them. You could imagine both of their disappointment if they’re a set of twins from just one of them. You hope you wouldn’t have to give them such terrible news.

“Okay.” The scientist says as she grabs the sheet of paper from the printer.

“One fetus is from Sector 42A Jimin and one fetus is from District 2 Secortor 3A Seokjin.” You breathe a sigh of relief before nodding. You could cry, you're so delighted but there isn’t time for that now. Born into a life of coddling and being kept safe, you will yourself to see beyond it. To see beyond anything that feels comfortable. You hop off of the examination table before putting your dress back on. Your eyes glancing around the room before spotting the Peace Makers as they walk the two men you love back towards the entrance.

Tying your hair up in your red ribbon you bow your head to the scientist. She smiles kindly before turning her back to you as she rifles through her documents. Your eyes fall to the tray she keeps beside the examination table and you close your eyes before taking a deep breath. You step gingerly, feet slowly gliding over one another as your hand reaches out for the scalpel on the table. You need it. Or, so you think. You cringe as the tray begins to roll, the wheels squeaking and you turn your head quickly to the scientist as she doesn’t move. “May the Mother take you Elsewhere.” She murmurs before standing up.

You take a deep inhale through your nose before pocketing the scalpel in your dress before slipping on your shoes. Scuffling out of the room, you slam into a Peace Maker before collecting yourself. You brush your fingers through your now mussed hair before clearing your throat. "I'm sorry ma'am." You bow your head to the Peace Maker before walking towards the exit. Just keep it up, stay normal. As normal as you could be.

"Please tie your hair back up ma'am, wouldn't want you looking defiant." You hear from behind you and you grab your ribbon immediately to tie up your hair. Swallowing thickly you tie your hair up tightly as the French front doors are opened for you. "We will come to collect the Fertile tomorrow morning." You hear a Peace Maker say and you nod to him before looking at the car as it waits for you. Enough time to get away.

Descending the stairs, you find it hard to concentrate as nerves muddle your thinking. Your heart beat is voraciously loud in your ears as you hop into the waiting car. You turn to the men you love before breathing a sigh of relief. The car starts and as you begin to drive away they look at you expectantly. Your hand is placed on your womb before you smile at them. "It worked. Both of you. Fathers." Jin's face breaks out into a smile as Jimin lets out a loud sob. His hands cover his face as he whimpers.

"Thank you." He mutters out, the sound of a broken sob ripping through his words as he places a hand on your knee. You feel your throat clenched tightly before smiling at him. Jin kisses the back of your hand briefly before looking out the window of the car. "Okay. We have to get to Elsewhere. Our woman and babies depend on it." He tells Jimin who gives a nod as he wipes at his tear streaked cheeks. He finds his resolve as Jin passes him the bag filled with water and other supplies.

The car already knowing your routine stops in the Slums. There’s a quick glance between all three of you as you take large breaths. “We can do this.” Jin whispers and you nod more to yourself than to him as if that would help you strengthen your resolve. Wrapping your hand around the door handle, you tug it once before a screech echoes throughout the car. “Oh fuck.” Jin whispers before shoving Jimin back as he begins to kick at the door.

“Someone had to hear that!” Jin yells as people from the Slums begin to pull at the door trying to pry it open. You gasp loudly as the car begins to shudder. “HELP ME!” Jin yells to Jimin who puts his hand on your stomach before kicking hard against the door. The metal creaks and moans as they grit their teeth. Out of the corner of your eye you can see movement in the distance of the empty streets. Men in white peeking around corners to view the commotions.

“Come on….COME ON!” Jin yells loudly, his neck veins jutting out as he kicks at the door with all of his strength. The door goes flying open, a few people getting knocked into the muddy ground. “Let’s go. Now.” He says before climbing out of the car, throwing the duffel bag over his shoulder and holding his hand out to you as Jimin climbs out quickly. “Come on Sweetheart, we have to move.” You whimper, head turning to see men walking down the now filling avenues and you squeak loudly before grabbing his hand.

“May the Mother take you Elsewhere!” The people of the Slums murmur as you rush by. Mud and dirt smearing on the bottom of your dress as Jin pulls you. You catch him in the rays of sunlight that peak through the decrepit buildings of the Ruin, how handsome his sweat sheened face is. “STOP THEM!” Your breath catches in your throat as Jin looks at you.

“You’re going to run with me, sweetheart. Quickly now.” He says before jumping over some strewn cobblestones from a building that had given way a long time ago. There was rubble everywhere as you make your way through the Slums, parts of broken buildings that nature never got to reclaim. Mud and dirt along everything as you jump over dead bodies. You yell out as your feet take off beneath you, jumping over someone who was still twitching as they die. “Don’t look, let’s go baby!” Jimin yells as he throws the bag on a higher part of an abandoned building. He grunts with effort as he jumps up, pulling himself up by the strength of his arms before leaning down and holding out his hand.

“Come on, baby. We gotta go-” His eyes look up as Jin jumps up beside him, “-We gotta go now!” He yells as Jin holds out his hand. You grip both of their arms as they haul you up and you groan loudly as your knees scrape against the concrete of the building, leaving scrapes and cuts in its wake. Jimin grabs the bag before helping you up, “You okay?!” You nod quickly before hearing shouting outside of the building.

“Lets go!” Jin yells and as you begin to take off through the slanted building, running up what feels like the biggest hill your eyes catch black markings of mud on the walls. The braid that is tattooed on Jin’s wrist is the same on the wall and you feel a swell of confidence in your heart as you pull out the scalpel from your dress. Stopping for a second you cut away at the loose fabric of your dress, pulling it off at your mid thigh before beginning to run again. Your thighs strain as you force yourself to sprint up the incline of broken floors through the building towards the window. “GET HER!” You whimper as Jimin looks back, his foot catching before he falls. His arms crashing into the floor first as the Peace Makers run their way up the steep incline. “Jimin!” You yell before holding out your hand, he looks up eyes dazed with pain before gripping on to your hand.

He forces himself up groaning loudly before running towards the broken window of the building. You’ve probably ran up what seems to be dozens of flights and you can feel the adrenaline pumping through your system like nothing you’ve ever felt before. “Through this window!” Jin yells before stepping out on to the window sill. Jumping over a broken floor you groan loudly as your thighs shake.

“Come on sweetheart!” Jin yells as Jimin lets go of your hand. “Chim!” You yell as he grabs what seems to be an old looking locker. He grits his teeth, dirt and spit gracing his face as he shoves the locker at the Peace Makers as they make their ascent. The locker rolls once before sliding down the large incline and Jimin doesn’t take a second glance to see if his narrow idea has worked. Grabbing your hand he pulls you towards the window before ushering you out. The sun is blinding and you gasl as your hand coils around the windows' broken edges. Only broken glass and rubble lies beneath you as Jin looks forward towards the Ruins and the wall to your left that keeps you from it. “We’re at least seven feet off the ground. Mind yourselves, don’t look down.” Jin says quickly before beginning to scale the outside of the building.

You groan loudly and your eyes instinctively look down. “Look at me.” You whimper pressing your back hard against the edge of the building, “Sweetheart! Look at me.” Your head whips over to Jin as he wipes at his dirt covered face.

“Stick with me, yeah? You and the babies, stay with me.” He says before nodding to you. Swallowing you nod back before ripping your gaze off of him towards the Ruins. “We gotta move! They’re coming!” Jimin calls out next to you and with shaky feet you begin to scale the outside perimeter like Jin. Taking deep breaths you try to zone out, only thinking of the way forward and your hand rests on your stomach as Jin comes face to face with the broken wall. He pulls out the rope and hook before taking a deep breath.

He swings the hook in hand before throwing it with a grunt, it makes a loud ringing noise as it reaches the top of the wall and he tugs on it a few times for good measure. He jumps off of the building before pressing his feet to the wall. “Okay?” Jimin calls out as you all hear crashing and yelling from inside the building.

Jin gives a thumbs up with a grunt before walking up the wall at a slow pace. “You go first!” You tell Jimin and he widens his eyes at you before putting his hand on your back. “No! Go!” He yells as a foot perches through the window.

“Go! I’ll cut the rope so they can’t follow us!” You tell him and he sighs loudly before gripping the rope. You put the scalpel between your teeth as he wraps the rope around your waist. He ties it tightly before pressing his feet to the wall and climbing up behind Jin. “Let’s go, baby!” Jimin yells as you grip on to the rope. With every move they make you are hoisted off of the ground, their bodies carrying your weight as you grab the bottom end of the rope. You begin to cut the rope with the scalpel as you are slowly pulled off the ground.

“They’re breaking the wall line!” A Peace Maker yells before jumping at you, you scream loudly as he catches your feet. The two men above you faltering into the wall at the sudden weight. Your head smacks into the gray wall of concrete as you kick at the Peace Maker as he holds you tightly. You whimper loudly as you hear your name screamed into the open air by Jimin. You grip the scalpel tightly before jutting it into the Peace Maker’s neck. He gurgles, his grip loosening as you gasp loudly. You grip on to the rope as he falls the seven feet with the scalpel still impaled within his flesh.

“Come on!” Jin yells before groaning as he pulls himself up the rope. You press your feet to the wall before climbing up with them. Your body is exhausted, simply begging for you to quit but you can’t. You need to find Elsewhere. You need to make it.

You reach the top after a few minutes of hard work before running behind the both of them as they reach the large crack in the wall. Jimin holds you close to him as Jin sets up the rope to abseil down. The wind picks up, the red ribbon in your hair coming loose and flying away in the breeze as Jimin taps your shoulder. “Just a bit longer baby. Come on.” Jimin murmurs before kissing your temple and handing you the rope. He descends above you last and you hear Jin yelp out as he falls from the rope. “JIN!” You scream loudly as his back makes contact with the grassy floor. The wind is knocked out of him as he gasps for air, coughing loudly as he puts his arm over his face.

You scream incoherently as you try to descend faster, your hands becoming chaffed and red with rope burn. You jump down the final few inches before putting your hands to his chest. He gives you a small smile before sitting up slowly. “Rope burn.” He whispers before showing you his bleeding hands. Jimin jumps off the rope before helping Jin up as sirens begin to scream loudly throughout the distance.

“I guess your dad knows you ran away, huh?” Jimin asks you before looking up at the Ruins. He bends down before running his hand through the grass. “I’ve never felt grass before.” He whispers before looking up at the both of you as Jin pulls a water bottle from the bag. He cracks the top open before pointing to a building in the distance.

He pours the water on to his hands before groaning through gritted teeth. “That’s the Way Station. We have to make it there.” He tells you both before passing you the water bottle.

“Drink. You aren’t just you anymore, we have to take care of the babies too.” He whispers before wiping his shaking hands on his pants. Jimin stands up before slinging the bag back on his shoulders. “Let’s go then.”

The trip to the Way Station was wondrous in a way. To see all these vines and trees sprouting out of the ground, Earth taking back civilization, it’s incredible. To see deer and other wildlife so close as you jog through. The way that waterfalls have created themselves through broken streets and buildings, it’s eye opening.

“Through here!” Jin yells happily as the tattoo shows up painted on a wall close to the Way Station. Climbing through a broken window, you realize that this was once someone’s home. Pictures in frames of a family, smiling happily as they sit outside of the house you just entered. You could see dishes set out on the table as if the family were about to eat right before The Great End happened. It makes your heart clench as you pick up the photo. You break the frame before taking the picture out of the broken glass. Jimin stops his jog through the house before looking back at you. He holds his hand out before smiling, his eyes closing tightly. “We’re home.” He whispers as you take his hand. Jin shoves open the back door before turning to the both of you as he folds his arms. “Come sweetheart.”

Walking through the house to the backdoor you focus on the building as it comes into sight, you can see shadows of people moving throughout the building and your breath hitches in your throat as Jin jumps down the patio stairs. He jogs over to the white fence that is broken down before looking up at the Way Station. It’s with tear filled eyes that Jimin clasps tightly on to your hand as you follow behind Jin. He takes a deep sigh before stepping up to the glass door of the Way Station and knocking five times. You hold your breath as shadows and murmurs echo throughout the station before the front door opens. An old woman, white hair down to her waist smiles at you as you put your hand on your flat stomach. “Welcome to Elsewhere.”

“What’re you up to?” Jimin whispers to his daughter as she picks a daffodil from the field before you. You smirk as your hand is placed on your growing belly before looking back at the wooden cabin you found shelter in all those years ago during your escape. Jin groans loudly as he sits down beside you, his plush lips brush against your temple as he sighs. “Thank you for trusting me.” He whispers before putting his hand on your belly.

“Hey! Jiseok!” Jimin calls to your other son as he jumps onto the ledge of the hill you live upon. He turns to Jimin with a wide smile and Jimin immediately melts at his gaze. “Get down from there, you know we stay hidden from prying eyes.” Jin chides his son before rubbing your belly. You look out into the distance before putting your head on Jin’s shoulder, your eyes taking in the Ruins in the far distance and the Capital even further beyond that. It’s been seven years since you ran away. Seven years since you’ve found yourself and found the safety of the world beyond what you once knew. Seven years since you found the men you love and could be with them forever. “If someone was to ask mommy who she is, what do you think she would say?” Jimin asks as he places his daughter in his lap before pushing some stray hairs behind her ears. She puffs out her cheeks, making your nose wrinkle as you begin to smile.

“Just Y/N.” Your daughter says loudly before holding out the daffodil to you. You lean forward, Jin’s hand resting underneath your belly for support as you grab the yellow flower. You nod to her before running your thumb over your cheek like Jin has done so many times over the years to you. “That’s right. Just Y/N.” You whisper before looking back up at the city in the far distance.

“Just Y/N.”

#btswritingcafe #btscreatorscorner #btswritersclub #bts smut #impreg kink #poly!au #dystopic!au #jimin #seokjin #bts fluff #bts angst #jimin x reader #jin x reader #strangers to lovers

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mymovingfingerwrites · 3 years ago

Text

courage, dear heart

When we think of Lucy, we think of her golden hair and her cheerful smile, we think of a girl walking through a wardrobe and accepting a new world without question. We think of Queen Lucy, blessed with the power to heal, the only girl on a ship full of boys searching for a hint of whence they came. We think of her at the end of the world, kind and lovely and sorrowful as a mouse rows away, and in the world beyond the end of the world, her eyes lit up with delight. Resolute Lucy, bold Lucy, perched like a bird on the back of a lion.

When we think of Narnia, we think of Lucy. How could we not? Was it not Lucy who opened a wardrobe door and found winter, was it not Lucy who refused to be minimized, was it not Lucy who infused the land with good cheer for years after her coronation, was it not Lucy who first cocked her head and said that the land was speaking to them and they must listen?

We think about Lucy, bright Lucy, glittering Lucy, and we know instinctively that Lucy was always the heroine of her own story. What we don’t consider is that in her darkest moments—for Lucy, like us all, was not always bright, no matter how the legends insisted otherwise—she felt at times captive by the winds of fate stirring her hair. Perhaps we are–though we don’t like to admit it—some of the many people in both worlds who looked at Lucy and resented her for having the audacity (the privilege) to fill the pages of her book with her own words without considering how heavy her pen may be.

(Was it really her book, though? Lucy did not deny she wrote her own narrative. She was Lucy the Valiant; she spoke the language of High Narnia, she heard when Aslan called, she commanded the long-dormant trees into existence once more. Lucy was familiar with the power of words. What she objected to was the idea that her life was her very own, that her canvas was blank except for marks of her own making. Dear Lucy, pulled uncomplainingly into heroics, a simple game of exploration leading to death and betrayal and heartbreak (and majesty, and light, and animals that could talk). No; this was not her book but if she had the (mis)fortune to open it she certainly would inscribe her legacy on it herself).

To our credit, we sense what Lucy had always known: she felt as though her role was inevitable. (In boys, we call that responsibility, or heroism). Perhaps that is what we resented. When you are a young girl with golden hair and blue eyes and the lightest smattering of freckles, when you are the baby of the family and coddled and loved dearly, when you are born with an infinite well of self-possession and three protective older siblings, when you believe in your own worth–stepping into the pages of your story and titling it as your own looks like a foregone conclusion from afar.

(Her sister, Susan, struggled with this for many years. Though she was the pretty one, or at least that was what her mother told her, Susan eyed Lucy’s waterfall of blonde hair with envy. Though she was meant to be gentle, Susan watched how animals flocked to her sister first, how even the most timid of creatures lined up to whisper their secrets into Lucy’s ears. This would take Susan a considerable amount of time to overcome, but let us not blame her too harshly. Being a girl is difficult enough; being the other girl in the story is harder still).

But what we do not see, unless we look very closely, is that nothing felt foregone for Lucy. What looks easy from afar was not from within. Lucy chose herself, over and over; she chose to follow the path Aslan lay out for her, and she chose to do so with good humor and kindness as armour against the inherent cruelty of the world, even the magic one.

Of all her siblings, Peter understood this best, though they never discussed it in so many words. Perhaps that is why Peter always trusted Lucy, or at least apologized to her without resentment when she was proven right. The bookends of the family, they were as temperamentally different as any other pair of siblings. Peter sometimes felt blinded by Lucy's incandescent optimism; Lucy at times was weighed by proximity to Peter's practicality.

But both of them understood duty, more so than Edmund, led so easily astray by pleasure, and Susan, who believed (at times to her credit) that the world owed her the same that she owed it. Neither Lucy nor Peter strayed from their tasks, not even when Lucy picked her cold and lonely way down to the shadow of a godly voice, nor when Peter first felt the undeniable weight of his gleaming sword marred by enemy blood. They chose, and they chose again, even when those choices did not feel like choices but inevitabilities.

For when one understands duty, taking one's place as hero is not self-indulgent. It is not privilege; it is a prerogative, and it is difficult. But where Peter found his duty in protection and caregiving, in oversight and the hard labor of daily majesty, Lucy found hers in vision and clarity and momentum. When Susan hesitated over the unknown and Edmund lay sniffling quietly when he thought nobody could hear, Lucy knew that her relentless confidence was as necessary as Peter's guidance.

(This was a burden, too. Who was positive for Lucy? Her siblings tried to be, of course; they loved each other dearly, more so in the following years. But this sense of need never left Lucy, this fear that if she did not smile that nobody else would ever smile again).

Cheerfulness and friendliness can be their own prisons. When you believe in yourself, others are relieved; they need not take on the responsibility of believing in you too. Lucy never allowed herself to stray (save from moments alone in a large, soft bed, save from a magic book that in its pages contained temptation, save from tears that splashed hotly in the cool Narnia wind) all the more rigidly because everyone expected that she never would.

(It takes strength to choose optimism; it takes willpower to respond to situations with cheerfulness. Lucy was valiant even at seven years old, remember. She knew that raising her head high was an act of defiance, she knew believing in her own experience was brave, she knew that daring to rescue a friend from the clutches of an unknown evil was perhaps foolhardy but nevertheless necessary. She may not wield a sword but do not mistake her empathy for weakness).

Beauty and softness can be their own prisons, too. Youth and innocence and loveliness can make you more—it can mark you as worthy to speak to a god-turned-lion, your friendship as worth the threat of eternal damnation—but it invariably means that more is all you are allowed to be. There were days when Lucy fled back to her castle, her nose red and her eyes stinging, her hair twisted into disarray, and wanted nothing more than to crawl beneath a heap of blankets and throw pillows at the door just to prove that she too could be cruel, she too could be wanting. It is no easier to smile when tasked to in Narnia than it is anywhere else.

Sometimes Lucy resented her role as the youngest, the softest, the angel (or was she meant to be the prophet?). She saw Susan notching an arrow to her bow, watched Peter and Edmund joust in the courtyard, and looked down at her glittering bottle of cordial and longed to smash it against the door and take up war instead of peace.

Father Christmas gave her that vial, after all, a children’s story speaking to a child. Her power was limited, finite. Lucy began to use it sparingly, though she would have liked to heal every small hurt that befell a member of her kingdom. Part of her always felt a frisson of fear at the thought that she may one day no longer have the power to heal. Part of her felt anger that even Father Christmas did not think her capable. None of her siblings had gifts of borrowed power.

(Edmund did not get a gift at all, but he was, surprisingly, placid about this slight. He still remembered the enchanting taste of Turkish delight, even years after it last melted on his tongue. He knew that even now he would betray his family for another taste of that wickedness, and that knowledge made him humble. His gift was that he would never be tempted again, and for that, he would trade all the gold in the world).

Let us talk about what it must have cost Lucy, more than her siblings, to return to a world of mundane happenstance. Let us think about her, forced to be seven years old, forced to plait her hair and be seen and not heard and befriend children scarred from years of war. These playmates did not want to be coaxed into the brilliant world of Lucy’s imagination. They did not want to hear of Aslan, they did not want to pretend to be anything they were not. They had survived days or months or years away from their parents, but not in the warm embrace of a magic land; they had been torn from their families by trains and cars leaving in the dead of night, they had been sent to farms where food stretched thin, to towns that covered their windows with black paint and slept six to a bed, heel to head. Magic to them was their father, home from the war, with a smile that did not quite reach his eyes but was nevertheless warm. It was their older siblings, reunited and once again casual monarchs of the family dynamic. It was their mothers chiding them to eat, their friends once again within easy access, the serenity of the night broken only by lorries and not sirens.

Lucy had experienced hardship before, of course. Everything has a balance, after all. When you feel joy deeply, sorrow cuts you to your very core. When you are easily delighted, you understand how ephemeral delight can be. Lucy carried joy with her, of course: the wild exhilaration of Bacchus and his nymphs, how right it felt when her and her siblings rushed out to the parapet to see a brilliant golden sun nestle into the cool embrace of the Narnia forest, the softness of Reepicheep's fur tinged with drops from the sea at the end of the world, how Aslan looked at her and she felt seen. Lucy never shied away from emotion. Lucy was valiant in this too.

But she never forgot the lesson of dear old Tumnus. In Narnia, he was a constant presence in her dining hall. But she never forgot that the cost of her entrance into this glittering world was an innocent creature frozen for daring to take her home for tea. She never forgot that her siblings doubted her, that her youngest brother was led astray by sparkle and glitter. She remembered the silent despair of Caspian searching for his family, Eustace wondering which poor soul he devoured in the guise of a dragon defeating another. To the end of her days, she thought of the quiet dignity and terrible sadness of Lord Rhoop gazing upon the still bodies of his very closest companions, choosing to condemn himself to an endless sleep to be by their side on only the faintest suggestion of hope. Because Lucy was Lucy, she took those feelings into her own and cared for them as she cared for their benefactors.

But in a way, Lucy had not yet experienced loneliness and fear, not like her siblings had, not like these war-torn children. The closest she had gotten were those first few days in the professor’s house where none believed her, or when she walked alone to Aslan in the middle of the night wishing desperately someone would follow. For most of her time in Narnia, however, Lucy was easily, automatically accepted, her majesty unquestioned. In Narnia, she was unique: lovely Lucy, Queen Lucy, friend of centaurs and fauns and nymphs, immortalized in ballads, welcome in badger dens and banquet halls alike. Lucy was Aslan’s favorite, of course–didn’t he speak mostly to her, didn’t he cuddle her in his great and terrible paws? Queen of peace and harbinger of joy.

When she twisted back into an unfamiliar body she expected this world to accept her, too. Yet Lucy was not celebrated in this world; at least not automatically. Susan took one look at her circumstances and tossed her head and vowed to be queen in this life too. Edmund chewed his lip and sighed a little to Lucy but bent his head to his studies, just in case Aslan was wrong and he would be forced to rely on the battles to be won in schoolhouses and universities. Peter raged, in his own way, at the loss of his kingdom, unable to cope with his duty and his purpose and his raison d'être so brutally torn from him.

Lucy tried to talk to the trees, but they ignored her, their bark cool to the touch. She tried to dance in the meadows, but the grass was sharp and covered her legs with rashes. She tried to befriend the dogs at her local shelter but they snapped at her suspiciously. She tried to talk to her peers and hear their stories and stand up for them like she stood up for her subjects but they eyed her with mistrust and laughed at the boundless optimism she tried desperately to embody. This generation of children was not prone to easy positivity, remember. Those in Narnia had been so desperate for help after their long years of winter. Humans, she found, were surprisingly not.

Lucy had never been ignored before. She had never been disliked openly, she had never struggled to make friends. She did not know how to handle girls eyeing her with jealousy or derision, how to process boys that pulled her hair not to flirt but to hurt. Her gentle heart and loving manner had always won her praise and acclaim, but in those brittle years after the war, she was playing a game where she did not know the rules.

She was not able to admit until years later that perhaps this loneliness was good for her. Heroines need strife to grow, even in all the old stories. Lucy could have turned her back on who she was in Narnia; she could have tempered the blaze of her spirit, fell obediently into the ranks of conformity. She could have stemmed the flow of her hope and turned instead to sheer practicality. Was that not what her siblings were doing?

(No, dear Lucy, stubborn to the very end. That was not what they were doing and you should have given them the benefit of the doubt).

In some sort of twist of fate, Lucy did most of her growing in this world, off the pages of the book, trying to decide what was important to her in a world where the rules were more (less) rigid, the values were more (less) prescribed. This was where she became truly valiant, in the mundane manner as well as the majestic. In this world she learned how to listen: quietly and patiently. Here the silent trees aided her, providing a calm and soothing canvas on which a friend could shyly begin to paint her troubles. She learned that being bold and brash could sometimes be selfish instead of brave.

Lucy remembered what it felt like to be seven and ignored. She remembered encountering a fawn risking death for her company, even though she was not yet a decade on this earth. She remembered her own siblings’ gentle condescension. She knew what it felt like to be dismissed. Sometimes you do not want somebody to fight for you. Sometimes you want somebody to help you as you learn how to fight for yourself.

In this world, Lucy learned what it meant to be valiant without pride. She learned how much bravery it takes to be heroine of a story with many other heroines and heroes and warriors and soldiers, that being one of many provides strength. (It reminds her of those old sunny days, playing chess in the courtyard, all her siblings casually, loosely together). In this world, when she lifted her head and smiled warmly, when she woke in the morning and greeted the sun, she did so with optimism she crafted herself, with positivity she forged out of the steel of her spine. She learned you did not have to be in the forefront of a story to blaze in it, that sometimes people did not want love and laughter but truth and honesty and justice. She met her peers’ eyes and they lifted their chins and she made them feel fierce, not protected.

When Lucy thought, years later, of the vial Father Christmas gave her, she realized he was giving her an instrument of her own power. Her ability—her great burden—was that she could not save everyone but she could save many. She had to choose. Lucy was not alone in this; a sword gives one the ability to take a life—but to trade a death for many lives. A bow allows one to even the stakes while remaining aloof, to assign death to others from a great distance. No gift at all forces one to look inside themselves and find the strength that was always there. Magic to heal, like all of these gifts, like all gifts, was meaningless unless one wielded it.

Lucy could have been afraid of indecision; she could have kept her vial locked away or pretended it had run out. She could have used it all within years, saving this generation of her subjects only to damn the next. The choice was hard, sometimes. Sometimes she left the vial behind and had to grasp the hand of a dying soldier and know in her heart that she could have saved him had she only decided to bring it. Sometimes, particularly toward the end, she had it in her pocket but knew she could not use it, that she had to be brave for those ahead as well as those now. These choices were not easy. These choices were her own. Peter, burdened with majesty, had to make choices about who to damn to combat, what was worth fighting for—but he never had to choose who to save. Susan, gentle, had to weigh the many competing demands of the land and decide which to prioritize, strategize how to best achieve her goals, knowing the weight of her kingdom was on her back—but she knew there was always a second choice, always a way to optimize a situation. Edmund, even and fair, had to devise a system of just rule, had to know when to stick to it and when to revise it, even when a friend had to be punished, even when it hurt to be the judge—but he did not have to enforce these laws, only set them.

Warrior, strategist, arbiter, healer: all four Pevensie siblings shouldered their own burdens and supported each other in the heavy task of ruling over many. When three of them returned (when six of them returned) to see their land destroyed, to see a new land created, they remembered those choices and they vowed to uphold them. Lucy had no vial in the kingdom of heaven but that had never been what gave her power. Even in the golden light at the end of the world there were jealousies and anger and injustice and strife. Even in the endless summer of forever there was the chance to be brave.

(Susan, on Earth, mourned her baby sister more than anyone else. Peter had death in the shadows of his eyes since he took a life at thirteen years old and was praised for it. Edmund too seemed to know that he was living on borrowed time. But Lucy, dear Lucy, did not deserve to be struck down so young. Susan had watched her grow into the set of her shoulders and ignite the light in her smile not once but twice. She watched Lucy forge a mortal crown out of sheer determination and optimism and she felt something like awe. She wanted her sister to wear it; she wanted her sister to join her in this brave new world, where women were beginning to display the beauty of their resilience and their wild and clever strength. She wanted to apologize, to admit she too remembered Narnia, that she had not understood the type of strength Lucy drew about her like a warm shawl.

Susan did not know for many years where that fateful train journey took her siblings. She deliberately did not consider Narnia, for why would a land full of kindness and light steal her family senselessly, randomly? (She did not know of their mission, of magic rings, of beasts lurking in the darkness. How could she, when they deliberately did not include her?)

She chose to believe that Lucy and Peter and Edmund were in a land of eternal stillness. Susan remembered those burdens, too, even if the details of Narnia were on some days blurry. It seemed more sad, somehow, to think of her siblings once again wearing their crowns on stone thrones, as if their time on Earth meant nothing.

When she opened her eyes and saw Lucy again, young and royal, she felt at first a deep pang of regret before the relief flooded in).

For Lucy, going to the world after the world of Narnia was not frightening but exhilarating, not limiting but empowering. It did not take long for her to forget what she left behind on her mortal world; they had teased Susan, once, for shutting out remembrances of talking animals and magic dancing along the stone paths. If Lucy remembered that, she might have felt shame, now that the quiet majesty of a row of silent English oaks faded into blurs, that the chatter of her peers became as dim and incomprehensible as squirrels.

But Lucy was never one to look back; she was eager to flip ahead to the new pages in her story, here in a world where the pages had no ending. There were new friends to meet and a kingdom to build and cheers to receive and challenges to fight. Susan would realize this too, one day, joining her siblings in this world beyond the world. Lucy was suited for this, as if she were chosen for this, as if she chose this over everything else she could have chosen.

She wrote her own story, yes, but we should remember that does not mean that all of her words were her own.

#this has been sitting in my drafts for months so i decided...just to post it #lucy is a hard character for me #i think i was always jealous of her as a kid #this is an attempt to think through that #anyway #lmk what you think #lucy pevensie #chronicles of narnia #the pevensies #peter pevensie #edmund pevensie #susan pevensie #my moving finger writes #the chronicles of narnia

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unmaskedagain · 5 years ago

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Rate this (Trust is Hard to Come By)

Its six am here and I just got to work. And am now writing a drabble at my desk. Again tweaked prompt a bit. Oh and I just realized that based on this and my last few “drabble” that are long that some picture books… I don’t know what a drabble. Or least I know it doesn’t apply to what I usually write.

No one would who or what had caused the akuma this time. However, when a thirteen-year-old superfan of Ladybug got Akumatized, everyone knew it.

A loud voice boomed in the ears of all the citizens in Paris, “Beware Paris, I am the Gardener, protector of the Loveliness. Those who have failed our Queen Ladybug will be revealed. A number you shall be given on a scale to 100; the higher the number, the more trust the Queen has in you. Low numbers have failed our Queen, betrayed our queen, betrayed the loveliness, and will be punished!”

“Loveliness,” Adrien asked, already preparing to make a break for it to transform.

Unaware that Marinette decided to wait for a bit. Some lessons needed to be learned the hard way. All the kids were at lunch and seemed to be enjoying the day until the alert happened.

Max pushed his glasses up, “A group of ladybugs is called a ‘loveliness of ladybugs.’. Gardeners love Ladybugs because Ladybugs protect their gardens.”

“Cool!” Kim grinned. “We get to see how much Ladybug digs us.”

Alya preened, “I’m at least a 90.” She pulled out her phone. “I’m so going to live stream this.”

“I think I’m like an 80, dude,” Nino smirked.

All the kids gave their guess; most figuring they were at least in the 70s. It was Alya who joked, that Marinette probably had a ten.

The others agreed; thinking the girl had been such a bully lately, and so mean to Lila.

Marinette overheard them from where she, Chloe, Kagami and their new friends sat. A smirked spread across her face. This would be good.

A blindingly flash filled the cafeteria. When it was gone, all the kids had numbers above their heads.

One by one the excited grins on the students of Bustier’s class faded.

“A two,” Alya paled. “How can I be a two?” A dark ugly red 2 floated above her head. She touched the number and words appeared next to it: Warning: Disloyal. False friend. Bully. Anger control problems. Easily swayed. Bad journalist… etc.

Nino frowned, “I got a four.” How could he have a four? He was carapace. Ladybug had chosen him herself. Or at least she had. He hadn’t gone Super in over a year. Was that when Ladybug lost her trust in him?

He touched the number. His warning said: bad friend. Disloyal. Bully. He touched it again before he could read any more.

Kim had a five. Alix had a three. Mylene had a seven. Rose and Juleka had 10s. Ivan had an eight. Nathanial had an eleven. Max had a six. All were in the red. All had similar warning signs.

Adrien had frozen in his seat when he saw his number. A 14. How could he be a 14? Why did Ladybug barely trust him? They were partners, friends, maybe more one day. But how could they be any of that she didn’t trust him.

He touched his number. His warning sign read: Naïve, Spineless, pushy, Bad friend, and, in bold letter, COWARD.

“We should go,” Max whispered. “People are staring.”

And sure enough they were. Most of the student body had numbers in the 30s or 40s, it was respectable seeing as they barely dealt with the hero. However, this meant it was easy to find the kids who ranked so much lower.

Slowly suspicious eyes fell on Bustier’s class. What had they done, most wondered. Whatever, it was they knew it was bad. Somehow the students of Bustier’s class had hurt Ladybug. And as far as the rest of the school was concerned, and those watching from Alya’s livestream, if Ladybug couldn’t trust them, they couldn’t either.

Marinette watched with cold eyes as her classmates and ex-friends scrambled to rush out of the cafeteria. Still she kept a smile on her face as one by one student came up to thank her for whatever she had done for Ladybug; for being such a good friend to the hero.

A glowing, bright beautiful emerald green 92 floated above her. It was the highest number anyone had seen so far. Her words attached were less of a warning and more of brag: Loyal, Honest, Good. Trustworthy. Caring. A great friend. Hardworker. Heroic. Brave. Then her warning was: A bit too insecure but working on it.

Aurore beamed at her friend, livestreaming from her own phone to her new Bugout. She had a neon green 70 above her head. Her words: Honest, Hardworker, loyal, good friend, amazing journalist. “Everyone post a pic of themselves with the number above their heads; it’s blowing up Twitter.”

Chloe gave everyone smug grins, as she had the second 86 above hers. Her words: Brave, strong, loyal, good. A great hero. A great friend.

Kagami had a 72. Her words: loyal, confident, headstrong, good, good friend. Marc a 67. Ondine a 66. Claude a 71. They all had similar ones to Kagami.

“You’re in Bustier’s class, right, Marinette?” A girl who had come to thank Marinette had asked. Her question drew attention from everyone. “Are you going to be safe there? With them?”

Claude frowned, “Maybe you shouldn’t go back there.”

It took a lot of reassurance to get her friends and even quite a few of the other students who had been in the cafeteria to allow her to go back to her class. Even then, Marinette found Ms. Mendeleiev, who had a solid forest green 71 above her head and had a bit more pep in her step that usual, escorting her and Chloe to class.

Students in the hall moved out of Marinette way as soon as they saw her coming, a look of awe on their faces. The bluenette couldn’t find the pink blush that crept on to her face.

They knew they had gotten to Bustier’s class when they saw the red glow emerging from the room

Alya couldn’t believe it. How couldn’t Ladybug trust her? She was Rena Rouge. Or least she had been. There had been a new Fox running around with Ladybug, lately. Rena hadn’t been seen in over a year. Still, Alya ran the Ladyblog. Alya thought they were friends. But how could that be true with a 2 above her head. And she wasn’t a bully or disloyal.

The rest of the class had a similar mindset. Even Bustier, who had a three, had a sorrowful look on her face. She didn’t understand what she had done wrong.

When green glows entered the room, they all noticed. Mouths dropped.

Ms. Mendeleiev with a 71, they could understand. She was a great teacher, no one could deny it. The beautiful blond Chloe they could sort of understand. She had an 86; maybe she had done more good as Queen Bee than they knew about. Marinette though? Their minds just couldn’t compute.

How could Marinette have a 92?

They read the words attached to her and Chloe’s numbers with disbelief.

Said girl thanked Mendeleiev who had taken to blatantly staring at Bustier with distrust. It occurred to Mendeleiev, that the younger teacher did have an absurdly high number of Akuma transformation from her students. When Mendeleiev and told everyone what she had seen and realized; most of the other faculty would begin to keep a close eye on Bustier and her class. Something just wasn’t right with that lot.

Marinette and Chloe made their way to the seats in back. The green above their heads looked a halo.

Alya wanted to scream. “Why does Ladybug trust you?” She asked the girls.

“She’s Queen Bee,” Marinette pointed at Chloe. “A loyal ally of Ladybug.”

Chloe smirked, “Don’t you remember that it was Marinette who first got you that interview with Ladybug; the reason your blog became as popular as it did?” She asked reporter. “Marinette’s Ladybug’s friend.”

Any scathing thing the students had been thinking to sneer at the girls died on their lips. Marinette was Ladybug’s friend. They knew Marinette knew the hero but never thought about how close they were.

“Why do think Ladybug stopped giving you interviews?” Chloe leaned back in her seat. A euphoric feeling filling her. “She only started working with you in the first place because she knew you were Marinette’s bestie. Once that changed, well… Ladybug just didn’t want to work with you anymore. Something about Journalistic Professionalism. How is your website doing by the way? I haven’t checked in a while. I normally use Aurore’s Bugout blog. Ladybug endorses it, you know?”

Marinette could have kissed the blond. The devastation on Alya’s face was finally karma for all the nasty texts she had sent to Marinette before she change her number.

Nino pulled his girlfriend into a hug.

“She read those texts you sent me by the way.” Marinette sent them a cold smirk as horrified looks overcame their faces. “Every last one. She was so disappointed.”

“You showed her?” Rose whispered. “How could you show her?”

“Why not?” Marinette shrugged. Rose hadn’t sent as many mean texts as the others in class and weren’t all that mean; just accusatory and claiming that she refused to be friends with a Bully. “I trust her. She trusts me. I even sent her videos of what a day in our class has been like lately. Ladybug got to see and hear everything personally. She has so many concerns about the goings on in this. She’ll be going to the school board with the videos.”

Bustier paled. She knew the students had gotten a bit out of hand but surely they weren’t that bad. They were just kids after all. (The teacher would get her answer a week later, along with a pink slip.)

Alya sobbed as she remembered everything she sent Marinette. How could she know Ladybug would read them? No wonder Alya got a 2. Ladybug probably hated her. “I only sent that because you were being such a bully.”

“Yeah,” Alix hissed. “It’s not fair. You were being such a freak about Lila!” There were nods.

And as the old saying goes, speak of the devil, and the devil…

Lila had taken her sweet time getting to school that day. She had lied to her mother that it was closed for the morning because an Akuma. And it was just her luck that one would appear. She had stayed in bed all day, earphones blasting music in her ear, wondering just how she’ll amazing her classmates that day. It felt great to be adored.

When Lila got up to leave for school, she looked in the mirror and saw a dark, blood red glowing Negative 51 above her head. She shrugged and left her apartment. Earphones still in her ears. A happy smile on her face.

She didn’t notice the shocked and disgusted looks on people’s faces as she passed them. Or why a mother picked up her a child and ran in the other direction. Lila didn’t see the brave man who reached out, with shaky hands, and touched her number as she passed by. Nor she see the People taking pictures of her and her warning signs. The photos went viral almost instantly, everyone wanted to know just who was the girl with the only negative number in all of Paris… As far they knew.

When Gabriel Agreste saw Lila’s image on the web, he ordered Nathalie to sever all connections to the teen girl and release a statement making it clear the company had no idea just what Lila Rossi had been capable of. Afterwards, Gabriel wondered what Lila had done to earn such a dramatically low number.

Gabriel himself was at a respectable and average 30. While Nathalie was at solid 34. Decent not too green numbers. Though as Hawkmoth, they were both an Ugly negative -2. He knew he was a Supervillian; Ladybug regarded him as a bad guy. But she seemed to regard Lila Rossi as pure evil.

…Maybe Hawkmoth should sever his connection to the Italian girl as well.

Lila arrived at school, just at the end of lunch, students had just started to leave the cafeteria for lunch. She didn’t notice that students stopped in their tracks to stare at her. Or the teachers with horrifying and calculating looks on their faces. She didn’t seem Damocles’ pale and rush off to call her mother.

She didn’t notice anything. Lila just smiled pleasantly; having decided to go with a Prince Ali story that day. Maybe that he asked her to marry him. She’d be the envy of all the girls in class.

However, when Lila got to the class she did notice the shocked looks she got from her classmates. But not the cold smirk on Marinette’s face.

“What?” Lila asked looking around. “Did something happened? Oh, no is the Akuma still around? How awful!” She said fighting the smile off her face. Hopefully Ladybug was getting her ass kicked, she thought.

Alya dropped her phone. Negative? How could Lila be negative? How could she have such a low negative number at that?

Everyone in class read the giant warning label attached to Lila Rossi’s number: Liar, backstabber, nasty, bully, untrustworthy, manipulative, rotten, villain, horrible person; the list went on and on. However, it was that shook them to their cores: Evil. Not bad. Not awful. Evil.

Alya collapsed against her boyfriend, “No. No. I didn’t know. I swear.”

“Shh, it’s okay,” Nino comforted her. “None of us knew.” There were nods from the other students.

Marinette and Chloe looked at them with narrowed eyes because: What the hell.

“Except I told you she was a liar,” Marinette glared at them. “You didn’t listen. You turned against me… for her.”

“You turned against Marinette,” Chloe said slowly. “The girl who did everything for you. And for what? A few glittery stories and false promises?”

Adrien closed his eyes. Was this why Ladybug distrusted him? Because he didn’t side with Marinette like he knew he should’ve. Plagg had warned him he was wrong. But he just didn’t want to risk losing all his friends like Marinette seemed to be losing hers.

Marinette looked at Rose, “Now I want you think again about every text you all sent me because of Lila Rossi.” Once again the students turned pale. They had been so mean, so harsh, so unbelievable cruel to the girl that had been so dear to their hearts. “Now I want you to remember again that Ladybug saw them.”

Rose was the first to break out in tears. “I’m-I’m sorry!” She sobbed and struggled to find her words. She had disowned one of her closest friends for a villain. “I’m so sorry!”

Other students were in the same boat she was. The fiery Alix was had been contemplating going on another tirade against Marinette when Lila walked in, felt her anger be snuffed out a like a campfire in a thunderstorm. The pink haired girl remembered helping lead the charge in showing Marinette what it was like to be bullied; tripping her, ripping of her homework, shoving her. What she done? Kim had been crushing on Lila hard felt crushed. Marinette had been since friend since pre-k, and he just… left her.

Lila looked honestly confused. She had missed something, and it was big. “What’s going on?”

Nino glared at the girl; his eyes red, tear streaks his face. “Those numbers tell the world how much Ladybug trusts you. Or how much she doesn’t,” He said darkly, thinking about his own number and his actions against the girl he once called his best friend. “And why.”

“The lower the number,” Adrien added. “The less she trust you.”

Chloe leaned forward in her seat and sent vicious smirk to the Italian girl, “And guess who has the only negative number in Paris.” She teased. “Besides Hawkmoth, but at least he was smart enough to hide. You’re trending by the way.”

“No!” Lila said, looking around desperately, but all she saw was cold stares. “No!” She pulled out her phone, and sure enough the name Lila Rossi was trending. Her picture with the giant negative number above her head seem to be everywhere. “This can’t be happening! How can this be happening!”

Marinette stood up, “Because you’re a bad person. You’re mean and you’re cruel. And worst yet, you dragged everyone down with you.” She said. Her voice was righteous or angry. It was like she was stating a fact from a history book. Marinette looked over every single one of her ex-friends, “Ladybug will never trust you again.”

The bell rang.

“Time for class,” Chloe sang. “Maybe you guys will finally learn something.”

#ml salt #ml spite #ml fic #marinette dupen chang #Marinette deserves better #chloe bourgeois #chloe deserves better #adrien salt

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kyber-crystal · 4 years ago

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pop the question || s.r.

summary: steve goes to his old love to ask her for advice on making the most important decision of his life.

words: ~2.5k

warnings: really nothing, just fluff and cheesy steve as always :)

a/n: this was an old oneshot and it’s poorly written i’m so sorry. post civil war au where everyone is happy and peggy is still alive hehehehe let’s keep in mind this is unedited so there’s a lot of errors.

Upon hearing that your boyfriend was going to go visit Peggy, you immediately jumped at the opportunity and begged him to let you tag along. Hearing countless stories about the fearless woman who helped found the very organization that you had been a part of for so long made you want to see her in person. So after several days of convincing, he finally caved in and allowed you to come with him.

The room she was staying in was brightly lit and minimalistic, mostly uncluttered with the only thing on the wall being a framed black-and-white photo of her back in the 40's. A grey-haired woman lay peacefully in the middle of the bed and as you took a step forward, she stirred slightly and for a moment you were afraid you'd woken her up in the middle of her sleep.

Her eyes opened and a bright smile lit up her face, softening immediately upon seeing the two of you side by side. "Oh, do come in...And who is this beautiful lady you've brought along with you, Steve?"

"I'm Y/N. Former SHIELD agent, currently an Avenger," you explained as you made your way over to her. She reached out and gave your hand a quick squeeze, returning your warm smile. "It's so nice to finally meet you. I've heard so much about you."

"And I've heard plenty about you as well," she replied kindly, "You're even lovelier in person."

You laughed nervously and rubbed the back of your neck. "I don't think so."

"I've always wanted to get to know the woman he's fallen so hopelessly in love with."

"Peggy..." Steve felt his cheeks heat up at her statement. "stop, you're embarrassing me—"

"I can tell why he chose you," Peggy smiled, "He's a good man...I know he loves you more than anything."

"Actually, I beg to differ, he loves Bucky more than me," you raised an eyebrow in suspicion at the super-soldier. "He wouldn't pay attention to me after he got roped into an Uno deathmatch last night."

"Classic Rogers," she laughed, shaking her head in disbelief as he pulled up a chair to sit next to you, by her bedside, "a true child at heart. I see you haven't changed much over the years."

Steve took your hand in his, intertwining your fingers together and soothingly rubbing circles across your palm with his thumb. Peggy noticed the softened look in his eyes when he glanced over at you and you felt your face grow warm.

"So how long have you been together for?"

"Almost two years," Steve replied, with a light pink shade tinting his cheeks. "Our second anniversary will be on..."

"May 20th. Two weeks from now," you finished his sentence.

"That's wonderful," Peggy laughed again, "I wish you two the best in your relationship."

"You're too kind," you thanked her, "I've been a huge fan of yours for so long."

"And I, you. He always talks about you every time he visits. He never shuts up about you, so I was dying to meet you from the moment he first mentioned your name."

"What did he say?" you looked over at your boyfriend to see that he was now flushing a bright tomato red, much to both yours and her amusement. "It was all good things, I assume?"

"Of course. He tells me he's never been this happy in his life until he met you...I honestly couldn’t be more proud."

"Aww, Steve," you nudged him in the side as he grew an even deeper shade of red, "you're so sweet."

"He is a hopeless romantic," she added on. "Captain America is great with the ladies."

"Peggy!" Steve exclaimed.

"Aw, you're making him blush," you giggled.

"He is the easily flustered type, if I'm being completely honest with myself here, though one might not see that right away when they first meet him," she agreed, but then her face fell. "Y/N, would you be a dear and get me a glass of water and some yogurt from the cafeteria? You just have to head straight down the hall, then turn right. You'll know it when you see it."

"Yeah, of course," you nodded as you stood up. "Just a minute."

Once you were out of earshot, Peggy gestured for Steve to come closer so he could hear her speak better.

"I'm glad you found a woman like her to stick by your side," she said quietly, "All these years, I waited for you, and I was completely, utterly heartbroken at the idea of not being with you ever again. But after hearing you talk about her frequently and seeing your face light up every time her name was mentioned...I didn't want to take that away from you. You're still that good man with heart from Brooklyn I met so long ago, Steve, and I hope you'll continue to treat her well. She’s a real keeper. Promise me you'll keep her close."

"I will," he promised, reaching over to gently squeeze her hand. "I love her more than anything, and there's nothing I wouldn't do to make her happy."

"Good," she nodded with a smile, "you make the perfect pair with her."

After you returned with Peggy's yogurt and water, you stayed for about an hour and a half longer before a buzzing sound from your phone indicated a new text message.

Natasha: Hey, love. I'm in the parking lot right now, where do you want to go for lunch? I kicked Bucky out before he dragged us to shawarma for the third time this week, so it's your pick today. Thank me later.

You: I'll be out in a sec. Meet you outside.

Natasha: See you in a bit.

You looked back up at Peggy after sliding your phone in your purse, giving her an apologetic look. "I'm afraid I have to go now. I have a lunch date. Natasha doesn't like to be kept waiting, especially when there's food on the line."

"It's okay," she reassured you as you stood up and shook her hand again. "It was absolutely wonderful meeting you. I hope you can come and visit again soon."

"Of course."

After exchanging one last round of goodbyes with her and Steve, you slung your purse over your shoulder and pushed the doors open to head outside, where Natasha was awaiting you in Tony's Audi.

"Hey, girlfriend," Natasha sent you a flirty wink and wave. "Get in."

You slid into the passenger's seat, buckling on your seatbelt as she stepped on the gas pedal. "Hey."

"So, how'd it go?"

"It was pretty nice. She seemed to ship it pretty eagerly," you chuckled. "Oh, also, Thai food."

"Got it." She typed in the directions to the restaurant into the GPS. "That's cute, having another person who's an avid shipper of Y/N x Steve. You guys have any plans for your anniversary?"

You shook your head, "I have no idea. Usually, it's him who makes the move and goes all out for the night, but I'm not sure what either of us have in mind this year."

Oh, he definitely had something in mind.

There was a burning question sitting in the back of his head and had been doing so for as long as he could remember. Right as he was prepared to leave half an hour later, he decided to ask Peggy and get it off his chest.

"Could I ask you something important?"

"Of course."

"I, uh..." he fiddled with his thumbs nervously for a few seconds before reaching into his jacket pocket and pulling out a tiny, cubic box encasing a gorgeous diamond ring inside. "Because our anniversary is coming up soon...I wanted to pop the question. How should I do it?"

"Oh, that's wonderful!" Peggy clasped her hands together excitedly. "Well...I'd suggest you go over-the-top for this occasion, it's a big, life-changing moment so why not? Don't be afraid to go all out, be romantic."

"What should I do, then?"

"Hmm. What are some things she enjoys?"

"Laser tag, crushing her opponents and beating them to a pulp in fights, Tom Cruise, Italian food, and Taylor Swift. She’s a popular pop singer these days."

"Ah, I see," she laughed, "She's a woman who enjoys variety."

"Exactly."

"A nice candlelit dinner would help set the mood very well, but if you're not wanting to pop the question in front of a crowd, you could always set that dinner up at home. Are any of you good cooks?"

"Bruce makes good pasta, and Vision's the baker of the compound."

"Back when my husband and I were still dating, he'd always surprise me with nice little fancy dinners at home. I believe that is the way to a girl's heart; sometimes you do not need to be extravagant to win her over. And you said she likes Taylor Swift, yes?”

“Yeah...”

“Take her to a concert! I heard from my niece that she’s in town right around the time of your anniversary...so you’re in luck. Get tickets, and take her there.”

"Thank you so much, Peggy. I don't know what I'd do without you."

"Anytime, Steve."

...

"So," Natasha spoke up as you were on your way back to the compound after lunch, "it's been two years since you finally got off your asses and admitted you were in love with each other, how do you feel?"

"I honestly don't know," you shrugged, "but I guess I have you to thank, right?"

"Damn right you do," she smirked, "I've been rooting for you two since we were called in to take down SHIELD, and I started suspecting things during the Battle of New York."

"That was three years ago! And New York was five!"

"I know!"

You let out a long sigh, a wistful look appearing on your face. "I wish Mom and Dad were here to see where I am right now. You know, they always pushed me to get back into the dating game once I got over my nasty breakup in college...before I got my level 8 SHIELD promotion."

"Didn't they always tell you that they wished you'd date Cap?"

"They did, actually," you chuckled, "and here I am now. Their dream has become my reality."

"I always loved your mom. Remember when we were having dinner at their house? She snuck me extra cookies under the table. Being your best friend for over six years has its perks, you know."

"And she'd fangirl over Thor."

"Ho, boy. Yup," she shook her head as she thought back to that chaotic family dinner.

Two weeks went by in a flash, and before you knew it, it was the day of yours and Steve's anniversary. Strangely enough you'd been prevented from seeing him all day, with the team making extra efforts to keep you separated.

After a fancy home-cooked dinner, you found yourselves curled up together on the couch as you absentmindedly watched Tangled - one of your favorite Disney movies of all time. Your head was resting on Steve’s broad shoulder as he traced patterns on your arm, feeling his breath gently fanning over your head.

But partway through the movie, you noticed he seemed to be fidgeting a bit as well, glancing between you and his pockets frequently.

"Hey," you placed a gentle hand on top of his, still staring ahead, "are you okay?"

"Huh? What? Yeah, I'm fine," he blinked a couple times before snapping out of his daze.

"Okay..."

Several more minutes passed in silence before he decided to speak up again. “...If I recall, you’re into Taylor Swift.”

“Oh yeah! Why do you ask?”

“An insider told me she’s going to be in Brooklyn this weekend for a throwback tour. I managed to snag last-minute tickets for the two of us...what do you say?”

“YES,” you practically squealed, jumping out of your seat and throwing your arms around him. “You’re the best! I love you.”

“I know, darling, I love you too,” he laughed, one hand rubbing your back as the other was absentmindedly fiddling with the box in his pocket. You blew it, Rogers...

...

You were nearly bombarded by paparazzi as soon as you stepped out of your Audi with Steve by your side, reporters flooding your path. The guards at the main entrance were quick to notice, however, and led you aside so you could enter through a different route.

“This feels so surreal,” your voice echoed across the walls as you made your way down the hall hand-in-hand. “I’ve been dreaming about this moment ever since I was a kid.”

“I’m glad I was able to make that dream come to life.”

“This is why you’re the best person ever.”

“Not because I always have your back during missions?” he raised a brow.

“That too, but also because of the fact that you got me tickets to the concert of one of my favorite artists ever.”

He chuckled. “I get that.”

You ended up standing right in front of the stage - so you had not only a close-up view, but could hear everything beyond fantastically. As Taylor came out on stage and began to sing, Steve couldn’t help the look of adoration that crossed over his features at the sight of your brightened eyes and glowing complexion. You truly looked like an angel - and he knew for sure in that very moment, you were the person he wanted to spend the rest of his life with.

His train of thought was interrupted at one point by you grabbing his hand and squealing excitedly. “My favorite!”

Steve recognized the familiar, soothing tune as Love Story. He recalled you and Natasha drunkenly dancing around on karaoke night to this very tune - heads thrown back in laughter as you exaggerated your movements, making everyone laugh. You’d explained that the reason why you were so attached was because listening to it made you long for a happy ever after - a perfect future. A girl could dream.

Romeo, save me, I've been feeling so alone I keep waiting for you, but you never come Is this in my head? I don't know what to think He knelt to the ground and pulled out a ring And said,

You were too busy jumping around and singing your heart out to notice the spotlight was now shining down on you, and it was only when the crowd started shrieking in excitement that you turned around to see-

Steve was down on one knee, holding up a tiny velvet box with a beautiful diamond ring nestled in the very center. Taylor was grinning down at you two as she continued to sing, the audience chanting for you to say something.

"Marry me, Juliet You'll never have to be alone I love you and that's all I really know I talked to your dad, go pick out a white dress It's a love story, baby, just say, "Yes"

“Yes! Yes,” you nodded, choking on a happy sob as you put a hand over your mouth, letting him slide the ring on your finger. “Yes, I’ll marry you.”

He stood back up and wound his arms around your waist, pulling you in for a passionate kiss to your lips.

Oh, oh, oh Oh, oh, oh, oh 'Cause we were both young when I first saw you

...

if your name is striked out, that means i couldn’t tag you for some reason

general tags: @yoomum @captainchrisstan @sandystoriess @naomiiiiiiiiiii04 @patzammit @rynhaswritersblock @capcapcapsicle @wheresmyjae @thinkingofbuckybarnes @carryonmywaywardbucky @musicalkeys @buckybarnesthehotshot @zaddychris @optimistic-dinosaur-nacho @sylvie-writes @sis-it-dont-add-up @tonystankschild

permanent tags: @sandwitch-god @renaissancecherub

steve/chris tags: @marvelfanatic16 @angrybirdcr @speechlessxx @epiphanybucky @smokeandnailz

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artyblogs · 4 years ago

Text

Mean It When You Swing It

Read on AO3

Summary: For @caruliaweek. Prompt: Confession. After two years, Carmen arrives at Julia’s doorstep with a bouquet of red roses. She finds a nightmare instead. Tensions ensue.

---

The first bouquet was a prank on Carmen. Carmen wanted to do something nice for Julia, to thank her for her infinite patience, for blindly doing what Carmen asked without protest, and for doing so without prying. Carmen wanted to do something nice for Julia, and people give flowers to each other, right? They are given to performers after their shows, and to graduates after their ceremonies, and to the sick so that they might feel better. They are given to parents and children and friends and partners. They are given in grief, and they are given in thanks, and they are given in affection.

There was a florist down the street from Julia’s flat, so there Carmen went.

“Whatever they are, they have to be red,” Carmen murmured as she regarded the dizzying collection. There were so many different shapes and sizes, in so many hues, and it was making for a more complicated task than she first thought. In her ear, the sounds of Player’s constant keystrokes blend into the background when he speaks (he once explained something about microphone settings and sound engineering, but most of it went over Carmen’s head).

“How about red roses? Nine of them?” And even through the mic, she could tell that he was smiling.

“Only nine? Okay,” Carmen said and she asked the florist for a bundle.

“Wait, really?” Player almost shrieked, but his sound settings came through yet again to normalize the volume.

“What’s wrong?”

“Uh, nothing.”

And that was that. It was only after the artifacts were set in front of Julia’s door, and after the doorbell was rung, and while they were on the plane out of Poitiers, that Ivy gently took Carmen’s elbow, steered her out of Zack’s earshot, and asked if Carmen meant to leave red roses for Julia.

“Flowers are flowers are flowers, right? Should I have left different ones?” Carmen asked.

Ivy’s mouth formed and ‘o’ and her green eyes grew wide with dismay. “Oh my god, you really don’t know.”

“Know what?”

Ivy clenched her jaw and scowled. She reached into her pocket, took out a small padded case, and unzipped it to reveal her Team Red earpiece. She plugged this into her ear, stood hands akimbo, and glared at Carmen’s left earring.

“Player,” she growled out. Carmen had never seen her so mad before; not even at Zack. And Player made a high-pitched squealing sound that she’d never heard him make before either.

“I didn’t think she’d actually do it!”

“God-fucking-dammit, Player! You know that Carmen doesn’t know about this kind of shit.”

“I’m sorry. But can you honestly tell me that red roses were the wrong move to make?”

“Do not try to worm out of this.”

“What do they mean?” Carmen asked. Ivy froze. Player too, fell silent. There was nothing but the drone of the plane engines around them.

“What do red roses mean?” Carmen asked again.

Ivy told her. And then she returned to Zack to give Carmen some time, and Player went radio silent for the same reason, and Carmen remained in the back of the plane, thinking.

Did she mean to give red roses to Julia?

---

Today, Carmen picks up a similar bouquet and signs the card with her name—her real name—and her hands take on an unnatural tremor. She flattens them against the counter, slapping the pen down in the process, and tries to distract herself by watching the florist tie a ribbon around the bouquet. They pull the free ends of the ribbon against the back of the shears to make them curl, then present the flowers to Carmen with a wink.

“Thanks,” Carmen says, weighing the flowers in her arms. Is this only nine roses? It seems heavier than she remembers.

“Good luck.” The florist takes the card and carefully tucks it into the tiny plastic trident bundled with the roses, then waves Carmen away with a smile. Carmen turns and continues down the street.

Carmen used to think she knew what love was. That at least Coach Brunt loved her the way a mother would love a daughter. She knows now that she didn’t. It was the kind of love that one has for a stuffed toy, or a limb, or a tool. She was beloved only because she belonged to VILE and did as she was told.

While she suspected that it wasn’t really love, she didn’t have confirmation of it until she met Carlotta Valdez. She believed that the woman who had captured her father’s heart had to be remarkable and she was right.

Her father gave her mother red roses. Usually a single rose, and sometimes a dozen of them at a time, but Carlotta preferred the single roses. She would tell Carmen how Dexter would break into some poor neighbors’ garden with a pair of shears in his back pocket, and how he would methodically choose the right one.

The neighbors entered their roses into competitions, so they soon learned to get dogs and guns. But Dexter never failed to get a rose. Not only because he was that good, but because he liked to see the look on Carlotta’s face when he presented them to her, and because he knew that no matter how beautiful the rose was, that Carlotta would always be lovelier.

Could Carmen love someone like that? The idea is…well. To be honest, she’s still not sure what love is and what love looks like, but she feels signs of it when she thinks of Player, and Ivy and Zack, and Shadowsan. She feels signs of it when she thinks of Carlotta. She likes to think she could. That she’s capable of it.

Could Carmen love Julia like that?

She would like to try.

Carmen carefully shifts the bouquet in her arms and crosses the street. Julia moved back to Oxford about six months after the raid on VILE headquarters. According to Player, most of VILE were round up by then, and the remaining work that ACME could scrounge up didn’t have anything to do with historical artifacts, so Julia had run out of reasons to stay.

Does Julia still drink tea? Does she still wax poetic about Older Futhark and Coptic?

Is she happy?

The apartment complex is really a collection of handsome brownstones that surround a small courtyard. There’s a barbecue pit set in concrete, and a swingset almost hidden amongst some trees. Two children make a circuit on their bikes, and a woman watches them while she idly pushes a toddler on a swing. Carmen avoids them as best she can and reaches Julia’s door. Music comes from inside; the radio, judging from the overlay of a DJ’s commentary. Carmen reaches up to press the doorbell and hesitates.

Two years and no word. No call, no text. Not even a letter. Two years.

Carmen takes a deep, steadying breath. It is unfortunate, but she had always intended to talk to Julia. Sooner than now, yes, but she did want to talk. She just…lost track of time getting to know her mother. To tell the truth, two years is not enough, but they have the rest of their lives. If Carmen didn’t come to see Julia now, then when would she stop by? In three years? Five?

Yes, it’s been two years, but Carmen is here now. She reaches up and presses the doorbell. There’s a muted chime from within, and a vague shout and footsteps, before the door is pulled open to reveal Julia.

“Hello?” Julia says, her eyes and face bright as if recovering from a bit of laughter, but her smile fades when she sees who it is. Her other hand comes up to cover her mouth.

“Carmen?”

“Hey, Jules,” Carmen says. The both of them stay like that for a moment, letting the music wash around them. The smell of roasted meat wafts around them too, as if Julia were interrupted in the middle of cooking dinner.

Julia’s dark hair is shaggy and ruffled. Carmen doesn’t remember if it’s always been that length, and she just carefully brushed it down for work, or if she’s growing it out. It looks good on her regardless, but then again, Julia could make anything look good.

“Who is it? Is it a package?” An alto voice sounds from within the flat. From the kitchen, wiping their hands on a rag, comes someone wearing an apron over their lean frame. Their dark, medium-length hair is tied back to keep it out of the way. At the sight of Carmen, they go very still, their brown hands still tangled in the kitchen rag.

It’s as if an ice cube has been dropped into Carmen’s stomach.

Julia looks nervously between the two of them. “Mars, this is Carmen, an old friend of mine. Carmen, this is my significant other, Mars Dakila.”

“I know,” Carmen says.

The first time Carmen saw Mars, she was sixteen on VILE Island. Back then, Mars Dakila was Cricket Bat. They arrived at the island and were shut away with the faculty for about an hour before they left with the Cleaners. The students of that year said that Cricket Bat wasn’t a thief at all, and Carmen had wondered why they were affiliated with VILE in the first place if they weren’t a thief.

She got her answer later, after Ivy and Zack had joined her crew. Sharkhead Eddie’s gang had taken over Darryl’s Donut Hole after all, and Carmen meant to break into the vault housed within and burn all of the counterfeit money. When she broke in, however, she found bodies instead. About five men were slaughtered, the dark blood pooling on the white vinyl, and she followed that trail of death to the vault, where Sharkhead Eddie gurgled wetly as he bled out on the floor. Cricket Bat stood over him in their spattered suit, with stained bolo knives in their hands, and dispassionately watched him die.

There was a newspaper article afterwards. The cops said that it was a mob battle, and Carmen supposed that in a way, it was, because the conflicts between VILE and the rest of the East Coast criminal gangs stopped after that.

Now, Cricket Bat, sorry, Mars is a scant seven feet away from Carmen—from Julia—and wiping their hands as if they’ll ever be clean. Julia steps between them, and Carmen blinks. She looks up at Carmen with a half-hard, half-pleading expression and the cold in Carmen’s stomach spreads through the rest of her body.

“We’ve met before,” Carmen says.

“In a different life. Do you want to stay for dinner?” Mars asks. Julia’s eyes widen as she tries to stammer something out.

“I’ll set another plate,” Mars says, and they disappear into the kitchen. Carmen watches them go, and when she’s certain that they’re out of earshot, she leans in towards Julia.

“Jules,” she whispers.

“Yes, I know. But they’ve changed,” Julia whispers back.

Carmen doubts that very much, but Julia continues.

“I swear they’ve changed. If you stay for dinner, you’ll see. Carmen, please.”

“Fine.” Not to see proof of this miraculous turnaround, but to get to the bottom of whatever the hell this is. Something is going on, and Carmen is going to save Julia from it if it’s the last thing she does. She straightens up and takes another deep breath. Julia slumps with relief.

“These are for you.” Carmen holds out the bouquet, and Julia’s eyes flicker with…sadness? Pain? She takes the flowers and cradles them against her chest, then gives Carmen a soft smile.

“Thank you. Would you like to come in?”

Julia moves to let Carmen inside, and goes into the kitchen. Carmen slips her converses off and sets them next to a shoe rack just inside the door. Julia’s heels and flats are there, neatly lined up, but there are also sneakers and brogues that do not belong to Julia. The hooks on the wall above carry two coats and two sets of keys. Carmen ventures in further, her horror growing by the second. Between the front door and the kitchen is enough room for a small dining table, and opposite the table is the living room. In the living room, on the wall above the sofa, is a collection of framed photographs. Carmen recognizes a couple pictures from Julia’s office in Oxford. There are also other people that have Julia’s eyes, or her nose. There is also a picture of Julia and Mars.

It’s a candid shot, judging from the blurriness and the tilt of the camera. Julia’s glasses are askew and she’s laughing. Mars, their face mostly hidden behind Julia’s, presses a kiss to her cheek. Carmen’s stomach lurches dangerously.

CLICK. The music stops as the radio is turned off.

“I’ll just get another bottle from the corner store, Babe,” Mars says as they head towards the door. They pull off the apron and toss it over the back of one of the kitchen chairs. Julia follows them, carrying a vase with the roses.

“I’m not sure that wine will ease this situation at all,” Julia says.

“We won’t know unless we try.” Mars slips on a pair of trainers, takes one of the sets of keys and turns to give Julia a quick kiss. “Be back soon.”

And with that, Mars leaves, shutting the door behind them. There’s an awful silence. Julia nods her head, like she’s psyching herself up, and turns to face Carmen. Her cheeks are pink.

This cannot be real. This…no. This is a sick joke. A prank. Ha ha. Carmen numbly watches as Julia sets the vase on a deep windowsill next to an old Skyflakes tin with a bunch of succulents planted in it. She beckons to Carmen, then returns to the kitchen. Somehow, Carmen finds the strength to follow her.

The kitchen is an organized mess, as most kitchens are while they’re being used. There is a bowl of mashed potatoes, a tray of roasted broccoli, and rack with two steaks. The sink is piled high with utensils. Julia takes a covered baking pan from the fridge. She uses a pair of tongs to take a steak from it and the places it in a skillet on the stove, where it starts sizzling. Julia puts the pan back in the fridge, sets the tongs off to the side, and looks at Carmen expectantly.

“Is ‘Mars Dakila’ even their real name?” Carmen asks.

“It’s their real name now,” Julia says. She turns the overhead fan on and returns to the skillet. There’s sauce in it too, and she tilts the skillet a little so that it all gathers to one side. Julia takes a spoon and begins scooping the sauce over the steak bit by bit, making sure to baste the entire thing.

“Does Player know?” Carmen asks.

“No,” Julia says.

“Do Ivy and Zack know?”

“No. And they don’t need to know.”

“Listen, Jules. I don’t know what they told you, but I know for a fact that they’re VILE. Faculty sent the Cleaners to clean, but they sent Cricket Bat to make messes. I….” Carmen pulls her hands down her face. “They’re dangerous, Jules!”

“Perhaps that was true two years ago, but they teach escrima at a local gym now. They’re reformed.” Julia picks the tongs back up and flips the steak, then continues scooping sauce. Carmen cannot believe what she is hearing.

“How long have they been conning you?” Carmen asks. Julia gives her a sidelong glance.

“They’re not conning me.”

“How long, Jules?”

Julia sighs through her nose. “We celebrated our one year about two months ago. Does that sound like a con to you?”

“Some cons go on for like seven years.” Carmen fights through a rising tide of guilt and desperation. Oh she is a fool. How could she possibly think she could go to Argentina for two whole years and expect everything to be fine? What an idiot she is! What a moron! And now Julia is completely blind to the danger she is mired in.

“It isn’t a con, Carmen,” Julia insists. She picks the tongs up one last time and uses it to prop the steak up on its side against the pan. She holds it upright and moves it a little every now and then to finish the sear.

Carmen could just…leave with Julia. She could just throw her over her shoulder and take her somewhere safe.

Julia sets the steak on the rack along with the others, then turns off the stove and the fan. She leans against the counter, her head hanging in defeat. “Carmen, why did you come back?” She asks in a hushed voice.

“What?”

“I mean, why now? Just as I was starting to…. I was finally….” Julia raises her head and Carmen doesn’t think she’s ever been the target of such longing. Unbidden, Carmen steps closer, and Julia’s eyebrows scrunch together as she continues to gaze up at her. Julia’s hand comes up as if to touch her arm, but she falters and it drops away.

“Jules,” Carmen breathes.

“You disappeared. I wasn’t surprised because that’s what you do, but then you stayed disappeared and I….” Julia drops her gaze. “You deserved to rest. You deserved to meet your mother in peace.”

She says the last part in near monotone, as if by rote.

“And I wouldn’t have been able to do that if it weren’t for you. I should’ve thanked you when I got that file. I should’ve thanked you sooner,” Carmen says. Julia’s cheeks turn pink.

“That wasn’t me.”

“I know it was you, Jules. Thank you for finding her.”

Julia waves it away, her blush spreading to her ears, but she asks, “is she nice, at least?”

“She’s wonderful.”

A bittersweet smile spreads over Julia’s face. “Good.”

Come with me, Carmen wants to ask. Julia could meet her mother and see for herself. But the front door opens, and Mars returns with a paper bag in hand. They slip their shoes off and put the keys back on the hook. Julia steps away so fast, it’s as if she’s scalded herself. She skirts around Carmen and goes to Mars. Carmen resists the urge to take her arm.

“I know you don’t like super dry wines, so I got a merlot,” Mars says. Their brown eyes light up when Julia comes near, and they hold the paper bag out to her.

Julia takes the bag and rucks it down to read the label on the bottle. “Not bad.”

“See? I know what I’m doing.” Mars kisses her cheek and—to Carmen’s dismay—Julia returns it. She does it absently, out of habit, before she catches herself and freezes. But Mars is already stepping around her and towards the kitchen.

“Was there enough sauce left for a third steak?” They ask.

“I managed it all right,” Julia says.

“Cool.” Mars comes to a stop just out of arm’s reach and tilt their head as they regard Carmen. “Sandiego.”

Carmen’s last name hasn’t been Sandiego in a long time, but she’s not telling them that. “Dakila.”

Behind Mars, Julia shies away as if witnessing an impending car crash.

“Would it be better if I ate with a butter knife instead of a regular steak knife?” Mars asks.

“You could make a plastic knife dangerous, Dakila.”

Julia gasps. “Carmen!”

Mars grins at Julia over their shoulder. “It’s okay, Julia. I’ll eat kamayan style if I have to.”

The name rolls so easily through Mars’ mouth with such familiarity and with such affection that Carmen must resist the urge to tackle them to the floor. Somehow, she unsticks her feet and moves out of the way.

---

The dining table is a small, rustic thing covered in scuffs and dents. To save on space, one end of the rectangle has been pushed against the wall. Julia sits at the remaining short side, and Carmen and Mars sit opposite each other.

While Carmen has never eaten dinner while within three feet of a serial killer, she has had worse evenings before. At least the food is good.

“But because I’m taking more classes than usual, my advisor expects me to graduate in three years, not four,” Julia is in the middle of saying. “I honestly didn’t think that I was taking that heavy a course load.”

“‘Doctor Argent,’” Carmen says, testing out the title. Julia ducks, her face going pink again. “It sounds nice.”

“My students already call me that, even though I tell them not to.”

“You still teach?”

“All phd candidates do. Just the introduction courses though, so it’s just the basics.”

“But you still love it.”

“I do.” Julia beams. “You know, I wouldn’t be able to do all of this in the first place if Mars wasn’t around. They take care of everything.”

“Do they?”

Mars has been mostly quiet all through dinner. They have a knife and fork after all, but they take care to keep their hands above the table, and to move deliberately and slowly. Once in a while, they’ll smile at something Julia says, as if sharing a private joke, or they’ll answer in short sentences, but that’s about it.

“Well, they do most of the cooking and the cleaning because they happen to like cooking and they happen to be rather fastidious,” Julia says.

“It’s the strangest sugaring arrangement I’ve ever been in. I’ve never paid anyone with chores before,” Mars says. Julia gasps and swats their arm, making them squawk.

“You absolute scoundrel! Don’t say that when we both know how whipped you are.”

Mars laughs. They laugh and their eyes light up again. “True! You’re probably the only person on the surface of this planet who could make me do anything.”

Carmen’s insides twist horribly.

After dinner, Carmen helps Julia clear the table and put the leftovers away. Julia ties the garbage bag shut with a double knot and tugs it free of the bin. Mars steps up to the sink and Julia tsks.

“Oh Mars, I’ll take care of those; you did most of the cooking.”

But Mars lathers the sponge and starts washing the dishes anyway. “It’s okay, Babe, I’ve got it.”

“I’ll help them,” Carmen says. Mars glances at her from the corner of their eyes.

“Really? Okay.”

Carmen takes a kitchen towel and stands at the dish rack next to Mars. Julia stares at them.

“You can’t be serious,” Julia half-whispers to herself, then louder, “Behave! Both of you.”

“Of course, Babe,” Mars says.

“I mean it,” Julia says, glaring at them both. “I will not come back to a dead body, understand?”

Mars smiles at her. “Yes, Julia.”

“Sure thing, Jules,” Carmen says.

This seems to mollify her, and she leaves to toss the garbage in the complex dumpster. Mars and Carmen wash and dry the dishes in silence. They pass the pans and the dishes first, and also the cutting board.

“You’re using Jules to escape ACME,” Carmen says. Mars’ eyes flicker, but they continue to wash.

“It certainly started that way, but then they stopped being a threat and I kinda…stuck around. Julia’s a remarkable woman.”

“Does she know how many people you’ve killed?”

“I don’t do that anymore; I promised her I wouldn’t,” Mars says as they place the trays and glasses into the rack.

“Oh, like that’s enough to stop you from killing again.”

“Be as skeptical as you want; I don’t care what you think. What matters is that Julia believes me.”

“What kind of sob story did you tell her to get her to trust you?” Carmen asks.

Mars shakes their head and starts cleaning the utensils. “I can’t believe this,” they mutter under their breath.

“Jules deserves better than to be swindled….”

“No, you know what, Sandiego? You just left her. You left. You wanted a fresh start and you got a fresh start and when you got it, you decided that there was no room in it for Julia. You decided that.”

By miracle, Carmen manages to not drop anything despite the shaking of her hands. Who the hell does Cricket Bat think they are to talk to her like this? As if she doesn’t care about Julia. Like she isn’t terrified that one day, she’s going to find out that Julia’s dead because Mars got tired of her, or didn’t need her anymore.

Because no matter what Mars says, they must be pulling a con. They have to be. They would never admit it, and if they passionately exclaim how much they ‘love’ Julia and it happens to sound genuine, then either they’re a very good actor, or they’re starting to buy their own con.

“How long did you expect Julia to wait around for you? Five years? Ten? Assuming you came back at all,” Mars continues.

“If Jules wants to be with someone else, fine. She deserves to be happy. But not with you. You’re a murderer,” Carmen says.

Mars glances at the vase of roses in the windowsill. “Maybe Julia shouldn’t take advice on her love life from you. Gotta say, green is an awful color on you, Sandiego.”

Carmen’s hands freeze above the utensils drawer. Everything else has been put away except one final steak knife. She holds the handle loosely between three fingers, and with one movement, she could just let go. She could drop the knife into the drawer.

Drop the knife, Carmen. Julia has been gone for several minutes now, so she’ll be back at any moment.

Drop the knife.

Beside her, Mars stands before a bare sink, hands empty except for a dishrag that they wind around their forearm in preparation.

“Mean it when you swing it, Sandiego.”

#caruliaweek #julia argent #carmen sandiego #carulia #julethief #carjules #carmen x julia #carulia week #my writing #also on ao3

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megan0013 · 4 years ago

Note

Chuckin’ a ⭐️ your way.

Sorry this took so long to answer! I wasn’t sure if I wanted to share or not, but then I realized VARIABLES is never going to get to this point anyway (though I’m halfway done with chapter six) so I might as well write out my thoughts and send them off into the universe.

That being said - this is more of a 1,350 word abridged and super self-indulgent ending than a “Director’s Cut”.

Jim goes into the Darklands months after he does in canon; thus, Gunmar doesn’t take over Trollmarket until Barbara is near the end of her pregnancy. And, unfortunately, she happens to be in the middle of an appointment with Vendel (who does not die) when the coup takes place. She’s recognized immediately as the Trollhunter’s mother and is taken captive after Otto tells Gunmar that Morgana would be most interested in a human/changeling hybrid. Gunmar considers it for a moment, and then appoints the poor polymorph as Barbara’s keeper. Which is how she’s able to stay healthy(-ish) throughout her imprisonment.

Fast forward a couple weeks, and Morgana is finally freed. One of her first orders of business is to go goad the Trollhunter’s incarcerated mother. She walks into the medical dwelling (where Barbara has been kept), monologuing, and then freezes.

“Gwen?”

“Uhhh… No. My name is Barbara Lake.”

But Morgana is convinced Barbara is the reincarnation of her long-lost love (I think they used the same character model, so that’s what this is based on) and decides that, as the mother of all changelings and Gwen’s lover, she’s entitled to keep/raise this baby.

Meanwhile…

Team Trollhunter is freaking the fuck out.

Especially when they’re in the middle of planning a rescue and Strickler’s face suddenly scrunches, and - oh, holy shit - the baby’s coming. There’s a fun scene in which Strickler is in absolute agony and, somehow, Toby winds up holding his hand.

“Omigosh! Breathe, Strickler! Breathe! You’re having a baby!”

“Do I look like I have the equipment to give birth, Domzalski? Fuck off!”

“I’m hurt, Strickler. Wounded.”

Abruptly, all the pain stops.

But then a feeling of fear, and exhaustion, and unparalleled love overwhelms him as the bond moves from a physical connection to an emotional one.

“It’s too late,” he says. “We’re too late.”

They’re not too late, and within twenty-four hours they (Strickler, Claire, and Aaarrrgghh) manage to infiltrate Trollmarket. Strickler finds Barbara. They have a very panicked reunion - “Oh my. That’s my daughter, and I’m so happy but we must get you out of here right fucking now.” - before Claire portals them to the hospital, where Nik and a very specifically picked team are not-so-patiently waiting.

Morgana is pissed.

Anyway. There are a few complications but, ultimately, both mom and baby are okay. Barbara is sedated to help her heal (which is probably not something that happens irl, but let’s pretend - ok?), so Strickler is able to get some good bonding time in with his daughter while trying to keep up with Jim’s persistent, panicked texts.

At one point, Nik tells Strickler to go home for a few hours. He does, but only stays long enough to shower and pack a bag before heading back to the hospital - with Jim in tow. There’s a lovely brother/sister moment, and then Barbara wakes up and there’s an even lovelier brother/sister/mom/dad moment.

Jim goes home and instantly agrees to Merlin’s terms, while Strickler tries to talk Barbara into leaving town with the baby. She’s not having it. At all.

“Have you forgotten I’m the one person Morgana wants alive?”

Toby texts later that evening to see if they’ve heard from Jim. Barbara freaks and Strickler goes to join in the search for him. It’s a very tense day, followed by a very tense evening and a super awkward conversation in Barbara’s hospital room at 3 am wherein Jim starts gnawing absently on a stethoscope.

All this happens while Morgana is plotting out how best to bring forth the Eternal Night, betray Gunmar, and get her little ‘family’ back. She summons Otto (the changelings aren’t slaughtered, btw, and some of them are pretty sympathetic toward Strickler after seeing him around town actually living what they thought was only a fantasy life) and instructs him to kidnap the baby.

“You want me to… to steal Stricklander’s daughter?”

“Were you not listening? No, I want you to bring me the child that is rightfully mine. Her mother will surely follow.”

He’s hesitant but goes to do as he’s told.

Only, he doesn’t get a very good look at Nik when they pass in the hallway and winds up getting a few of his features wrong. Which probably wouldn’t matter if he were trying to trick anyone else, but Barbara and Nik have known each other since 8th grade and she calls him out almost immediately.

“You’re the polymorph. Otto, right? Walt’s told me so much about you.”

“He has?”

“Of course. He said you two used to be close - like brothers. In my book, that makes you family. Would you like to meet your niece?”

And, just like that, the Lake’s adopt another changeling.

Something Strickler is most skeptical of when he returns to the hospital a few hours later to find them chatting about some dumb stunt he’d pulled back in the early 1600’s. Nomura meets up with them, too, and the four manage to hash out a stupid, harebrained scheme to keep Morgana distracted up to, and during, the final showdown with Jim.

(I haven’t quite thought out all the specifics yet, but the plan includes Nomura in a glamour mask and Otto squeezing into a teeny, tiny little shape - so, you can guess where that’s going)

Anyway.

Barbara and baby are released from the hospital after three nights (might be two, idk, we’re playing fast and loose with the timeline here). They get home, entertain a few unexpected guests, host some impromptu strategy sessions, and then settle in for a small family meal that Strickler prepares in the hopes of bridging the gap from Jim’s old human palette to his new troll one. It goes over way better than canon, that’s for sure.

Later, after Jim has left to prepare for battle and the baby is finally down, a teary-eyed Barbara asks Strickler if he’s willing to stay with her that night. He jumps at the chance, because…

They still aren’t together.

They’ve ‘shared a bed’ once or twice since he moved in, but those were moments of passion and need that had only ever manifested into miscommunication and more. mcfreaking. yearning.

(They were roommates, anyone?)

And now? Well, this is definitely one of those moments. But with sex off the table, and a newborn two feet away, and the end of the world looming - maybe he should just tell Barbara how he feels about her?

“If something happens and I don’t come home tomorrow, I need you to know… My feelings for you haven’t changed. I’m still hopelessly in love with you.”

Of course, she feels the same.

Vows are made, kisses are exchanged, and they manage to get a few hours of rest before their daughter starts grumbling in her sleep.

The next day dawns bright and beautiful, and before Strickler leaves for battle Barbara wishes him good luck. He kisses her, then the baby, and says:

“This is all the luck I need.”

Or something like that.

(Because I think this kid’s name is Felicity [meaning ‘happiness’, and derived from felicitas meaning ‘luck, good fortune’]? Though, I might have just left it as Rory for consistency’s sake. Fun Fact: Rory is short for Aurora [Goddess of the Dawn], which I thought was a fitting name for a changeling to give their daughter.)

Ok, back to the story.

Everything, surprisingly, goes according to plan. Morgana is sufficiently distracted by Merlin and Aaarrrgghh, then by Otto and Nomura long enough for Jim to vanquish the Skullcrusher once and for all. But then she catches a whiff of the changeling magic surrounding Otto and Nomura. Everything sorta goes to hell after that.

True to canon, however, Team Trollhunter wins in the end by trapping Morgana in the Shadow Realm.

But only after Strickler sacrifices himself to save Jim’s life.

…

Joking.

They all live happily ever after.

(Until, ignoring Wizards altogether, Morgana breaks free a few years later and kidnaps the one changeling who isn’t a product of her magic, and is thus impervious to her mind control. Hijinks ensue. Morgana is rather pleased when the kid’s parents show up to rescue her.)

#trollhunters #stricklake #variables fic

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ineloqueent · 4 years ago

Text

time enough

Gwilym Lee x Reader

synopsis: you’re stressed and Gwil’s busy, but he’s always got time for you.

warnings: descriptions of anxiety, mentions and description of a panic attack

word count: 1.5k

see the moodboard here!

⭒

It had been a rough morning.

Scratch that.

A rough day. A rough week? Month? Year?

Whatever it was, it wasn’t going well.

You were studying ceaselessly, because attempting to get a doctorate in history was not what one would call “a walk in the park.” In fact, it was quite the opposite. You felt as though you were running down a steep, steep slope, at the end of which lay a cold, dark lake, which you would have no choice but to swim across in order to climb the mountain on the other side, atop which the Ph.D. was being held captive by a dragon, like some fairytale princess.

Indeed, your Ph.D. seemed like a fairytale, because how you were ever going to finish earning it was beyond you. You’d been at this for years and years already, and it seemed as though there was no end in sight. However much you loved history and that which you were studying in particular, the process of getting such an advanced degree was an arduous one, and some days, you thought you’d never make it.

For instance, today, one week before the final exam of your entire university career, the sky was falling down upon you.

It was Friday, and you’d been studying for this exam since four Fridays ago, and you were going around in circles. It seemed impossible to memorise all of those people, and all of those dates, all of those fucking movements, though you were sure they’d been in your head before.

You needed to get out of your apartment. You’d opened the window, but the air had remained stuffy, and the sun which beat down heavily was of no help. You were tired, running on a combination of caffeine and nervous energy, your hands growing shakier by the minute.

The pen fell from your grip as you stood up, knocking your chair to the ground in your hurry.

Out, out, out, get out. The room was too small, the walls were up against you, and you were finding it difficult to breathe.

You threw on your shoes and fumbled for your house key, stumbling out the door and only just remembering to close it behind you, let alone lock it.

You needed to get this off of your mind, this endless loop of studying and writing papers and reading papers, and there was only one person capable of helping you.

You knew where the shoot was, and it wouldn’t take you long to get there by car, but you wanted— needed— fresh air, and didn’t trust yourself to drive with your quivering hands, so you began to run.

You nearly got into a road accident numerous times, and angry shouts followed you everywhere you went, but you could only hear the wind rushing in your ears and the hard concrete beneath your shoes.

You ran all the way to set, and when you got there, you faced the inevitable obstacle of a barricade and the security guard reluctant to let you in. But then you spotted Gwilym.

For a moment, you held your breath, your knuckles turning white as they gripped the barricade.

You didn’t want to trouble him. And he was very obviously busy, going over the delivery of a particular line with his co-star, prior to the shoot which awaited them on the footpath by the road, where the cameras were stationed.

But then for what reason had you come all this way?

By no small amount of courage, you called out to Gwil.

He spun at the sound of your voice, just as an assistant touched his arm to get his attention concerning the start of the shoot.

Your stomach dropped to your toes. He hadn’t seen you.

There were tears in your eyes now, and you couldn’t stop them, couldn’t even wipe them away for your shaking hands, your shaky breaths.

He hadn’t seen you, and he was going to leave and you were going to stay here behind the barricade, tearful and panicky and embarrassed and ashamed.

There was commotion over by the camera crew, but then one voice, assured, firm, clear, cut through.

“If you’ll excuse me, please, that’s my girlfriend you’ve barred from the premises.”

You were sinking to the ground by the barricade, your chest contracting, your skin cold and clammy, and then Gwil was jumping the barricade and kneeling on the ground beside you.

“Gwil, we need to—”

He raised a hand, and the gesture silenced the assistant. It wasn’t an impolite gesture, simply one which asked respect of the recipient, and for Gwil’s reputation of going out of his way to help others, the assistant nodded and walked away.

You were dimly aware of Gwil’s fingers curling around your own. He didn’t get in your face, but he also didn’t shy away, frightened by the panic which wracked your body.

“Hey, love?”

You turned your head to find him looking at you, all soft eyes and even breaths, and there was a calmness in just looking at him.

“You’re going to be alright. This’ll be over in a little bit, and then we can talk and go anywhere and do anything you like, yes?”

He was being so gentle, so kind, and the ghost of a smile touched his lips when you nodded in response to his askance, so much that you almost nodded again, just to see him smile fully.

But your vision still blurred at the edges— green and purple and black— and you remembered, all of those people, and all of those dates, all of those fucking movements, all of those things you were never going to remember, and you gasped as the intake of air constricted your lungs.

“You’re okay, I’ve got you. Just breathe with me.”

His thumb traced a gentle line at the base of your palm, and then he began to count slowly.

“One, you— the only one who matters right now. Two, how many days it took me to fall in love with you. Three, the number of drinks I had before I mustered the confidence to talk to you. Four, how many times I tried to talk to you on the same night before I gave up. Five, the number of weeks I thought about asking you out before I actually did it.

“Six, the hour I arrived to pick you up that first time. Seven, the time I was actually supposed to pick you up, but I’d forgotten about daylight savings. Eight, the number of constellations I memorised to try and impress you on that first date. Nine, the number of constellations I forgot how to identify, but you looked so happy staring up at the stars, so I pretended I knew them.

“And, because I can’t count, ten million billion trillion, how many times I will tell you I love you, if it makes you even half as happy as the first time I told you.”

That soft smile had reappeared on his face, and the colours were returning to the world.

You noticed that Gwil had sat down beside you, not minding his costume, or the fact that the ground would dirty it beyond all repair.

“I’m so proud of you, you know that? This Ph.D. thing… I could never do it. But you…” Gwil exhaled, shaking his head almost imperceptibly, as though he truly could not believe how you managed. There was a great, unspoken respect in his words, and his confidence in you was far lovelier than anything else you had ever been given. “You work yourself too hard, beautiful. Breaks are good. We all need breaks.”

With a tenderness, he smoothed the hair from your forehead, and your breathing began to return to normal.

“Do you…” your voice hitched on the words, and Gwil was passing you a bottle of water he’d conjured from god knew where. You sipped a little, then handed it back to him.

“Slowly,” he said. “Take it easy.”

“Don’t you need a break from me, sometimes?”

His brow furrowed, but you kept talking.

“I mean, I turn up out of nowhere, and I— I— I ruin your day, the shoot, the—”

“Shh, love,” he touched your hand. “Breathe in and out. Slowly.” He then shook his head again. “You could turn up out of nowhere any day of the week, and I’d be over the moon to see you. And you haven’t ruined my day or the shoot or anything. I’m only sorry I wasn’t at home with you today.”

“But you’re busy and I—”

“I’ve got time enough, and all the time in the world for you.” He canted his head slightly, looking at you. “I think I should tell you, you are my world, and taking a break from the world would mean giving up on life, and while you’re here, there is no thought further from my mind.”

There were tears in your eyes again. But these were not tears of panic, of fear. Your heart swelled with happiness, with hope.

He kissed your hair. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” you whispered, and held onto him until the light faded from the sky.

#s&t celebrate #tina's writing #gwilym lee x reader #fic

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shreddedparchment · 5 years ago

Text

Pseudo Princess Pt.20

A King’s Cottage

12/20/2019

Pairing: King!Steve x Reader Word Count: 5,881

Warnings: fluff, cute Peter Parker, smut, subtle trauma flashbacks

A/N: A lot has happened since I last posted a chapter. I lost my desire to write ever again for a bit and it was hard to come back from that. I hope you enjoy this new chapter. It was really very difficult to finish it but once I pushed through it all just came tumbling out. Thank you for being so patient with me. It means a lot to me. All of you mean so much to me and I hope that I haven’t disappointed y’all too much.

“Have you got everything?” Nat is fussing. She’s unpacked your trunks several times, checking them over again and again.

Three formal gowns, just in case. Almost ten casual gowns. Soft and free flowing like the white one you tend to favor. All of them had been newly commissioned for you. Two tiaras were put in a smaller locked chest, again, just in case.

You liked the more casual dresses. You didn’t want this time alone with Steve to be all formality and duty.

Your marriage may have begun as such, but you hope that truly, your marriage is one of love now. You want to know him the best. Knowing you the best is something you hope he wants too.

It feels as if a new chapter has begun in your life and you cannot be more grateful.

“Nat,” You sigh, watching her unpack your gowns for the fourth time.

“Should I get you more nightdresses?” She asks herself quietly.

“Nat!” You call a little louder.

She looks at you, her emerald eyes far away in thought.

“What?” She asks, finally focusing on you.

“You don’t have to worry. I have everything I need.” You promise her, but she frowns at you.

“What if something happens?”

“Let her go.” Grandmother’s stern voice cuts in from behind you, sitting by the window in one of your tea table cushioned seats. “It’s time they reconnected.”

“Yes, but…with her Majesty’s pregnancy-”

“She will be in safe hands. As you very well know. His Majesty the King is not one to cross and is more than capable of protecting his beloved wife.” The old woman argues, her gravelly voice somehow strong despite her age. “The Queen’s cottage is in King’s Peace. No one would dare disturb them there.”

Nat frowns and you know that she’s thinking about Hydra and their lack of worry with upholding rules of honor.

Hydra won’t care that the cottage is in King’s Peace. They’ll invade if they so please and if you’re honest, you’re terrified. You know that Steve is strong. He’s large and his muscles are hard, his body built out of marble…but he’s only a man. He couldn’t take on six men if they stormed the cottage.

What if it were nine men? Thirteen? He’d die trying to protect you and your child.

“Maybe-?” You begin, worry turning you blood to ice.

“Don’t you worry that pretty head of yours, my dear.” Grandmother orders, getting up and wagging her finger at you. “Take your tonic at the end of the night. Eat a hearty breakfast. If you are tired, sleep. If you are hungry, eat. And if his Majesty should give you a command, obey should it concern your safety. Your priority is that baby you’ve got growing in your belly. Are we clear?”

You consider the old woman for a long moment, weighing your life against Steve’s and you know that if you had to choose it would always be Steve. You’d save him if you could.

With the little one in your tummy however, you know that you’d run and leave him to be slaughtered if Steve ordered you to do so.

Sadly, you nod.

“Don’t worry, my dear.” Grandmother closes the space between you and gently caresses your cheek. “Nothing shall happen. You will go, spend a month with his Majesty, and be back before you know it. Back to duty and regulation.”

Well, that doesn’t sound nice at all.

You frown. Grandmother cackles.

“Farewell, my dear. Safe travels. And do yourself a favor, enjoy yourself. Not everyone can marry his Majesty Steve Rogers.” She winks at you.

“Grandmother,” You gasp, mouth dropping open at her playfully suggestive words.

She moves from the room, chuckling happily. “Come along, Lady Romanoff. His Majesty will not tarry for much longer.”

Natasha moves to grab one of your trunks. “Peter?”

“I’m coming.” Peter declares, running in and easily grabbing the two other trunks then moving with them towards the door.

“I wish I were coming with you.” Nat laments.

“You will be. Just two weeks behind.” Steve wouldn’t deprive you of Nat for too long but he is adamant on spending some alone time with you and, if you’re honest? You want it to be just the two of you as well.

“Who will dress you? Who will make your baths? Who will hold your hair up when you get sick?” She worries.

“Nat,” You begin, chuckling slightly. “I grew up in a village where I had to hunt my own food. Preparing my own bath will not kill me, nor will dressing myself. As for tending to me when I’m sick-"

“That’s what I’m there for.”

The familiar deep tone comes from the doorway and both you and Nat turn to look.

Steve stands, dressed in dark trousers, his navy tunic over his usual white linen shirt. Through his arm he has two cloaks, one deep almost blood red with silver stitching along the hem. The other a chocolate brown with gilded thread for embellishment.

What catches you off guard is the bright face that stares at you. The trimmed hair is so short. Just enough to put your hands through, golden tresses that shorter glisten in the light from your window.

His beard, rough and thick, is gone.

Without it, Steve looks years younger. Happier. Lovelier. Though you miss the gruff sight of his facial hair, this soft cheek and sharp jawline is to die for.

“There you are.” Nat says, a slow smile creeping into her face. “I’d wondered where our Steve Rogers was hiding.”

Steve pushes away from the doorframe and reaches up to stroke his chin and cheeks.

“It was time.” He says, sounding slightly ashamed.

“Long past.” Nat tells him, not chastising but stern.

“Yes.” Steve agrees, then with a shyness you’re unfamiliar with, he peeks at you from behind those impossibly long blonde lashes.

Cheeks flushed; he smiles softly.

“Perhaps my love doesn’t like it?” He checks, concern crinkling his brow.

You realize that you’ve been standing with your mouth agape, overwhelmed by your husband’s beauty.

Shutting it, you feel your own neck burn.

“Like it?” You sputter. “I love it, Steve. You look…I can see your face.”

Finally, you smile. Steve does too.

~~~~~~~~~~

The next twenty-four hours are rough. For you especially.

You wish that your voyage had been one of ease and comfort. Steve had been hoping for a lovely trip and you’d wanted it to be perfect too, but the entire first day of your journey was lengthened by your constant need to stop.

This trip, the rocking carriage, the bumps and the trembling wooden wheels do not agree with your pregnant state.

Your early morning sickness had improved as of late but something about the swaying and jostling seems to have disagreed with your poor little one. Nothing has been quite so terrible as grabbing your skirts and hoisting them back out of your way as you haphazardly tumble from the carriage to puke into the nearest bush.

True to his word however, Steve has rushed after you, making small declarations of, “Watch your step, my flower.” and “Y/N, wait. Hold my hand as you alight.” and “Does that feel good? When I rub your back?” and “I’m sorry, my petal. I didn’t think about how the journey would make you feel.”

As you straighten, you assure him that you’re fine. You half force a smile, he hands you a water flask, and you clean your mouth as best you can.

“You don’t have to pretend to be fine. You can be comfortable with me, Y/N.” He shifts on his feet, stepping closer by inches and it makes his newly cropped hair bounce a little. It falls forward onto his forehead where it twitches in the late winter breeze.

It’s brisk and normally you’d be shivering, but your thick linen dress and the red cloak that Steve had bought for you keep you mostly warm. You’ll need a thicker cloak soon if the weather gets worse.

With a tentative hand, you reach up to push the strands away from his face and he freezes. Visibly, he’s immobile and it takes every ounce of strength you have left to keep from laughing as he cheeks are painted crimson.

His blush is pleasing and it fills you with pride that you really do seem to have this effect on him.

Instead of laughing you smile wryly, your cheeks aching from the urge to chuckle.

“I wish I could.” You admit, exhaling forlornly while maintaining your now slightly sad smile. “But it will take some time. You were very compelling in your hatred for me. Your sudden kindness has me quite thrown.”

Steve’s face saddens, but you don’t feel bad about his expression. This is the new beginning for both of you, but it doesn’t wipe away what happened before. These are the facts of your marriage and pretending they didn’t happen would be unwise.

“I never really hated you.” Steve says. “Not really. I hated that I had no choice.”

You nod slowly, seeing it all from his side of things and knowing now with how important his people are to him that he must have seen this marriage as unavoidable. An intrusion to his mourning.

There was never an option.

It was marry you or relinquish the Kingdom and for Steve there was only one choice.

Resting your hand against his cheek, you nod for him. You hear him. You want him to know that.

“I know. But it’ll take time. I can’t just pretend it never happened.” You explain.

“I guess that’s reasonable.” He grumbles, then gets distracted and places his hands on your stomach flipping his hands underneath your cloak to feel you over your dress. “Are you well enough to get moving again? We still have a half day’s journey to go.”

The way he cups your teeny barely formed bump makes your heart erupt into flutters. He places his other hand on your lower back and slowly strokes the aching muscle.

“Should we just turn back and go home?” He wonders.

“No!” You answer, a bit too quickly. “No. I want to go. I just need a minute.”

“Have an hour.” Steve quickly offers, moving a little closer so that your left side is pressed against his chest.

This time you don’t try and stop yourself. You laugh.

“I don’t need an hour. Just a few moments will suffice.” You assure him.

“I wish I could take the sickness from you.” He frets.

A sudden thought occurs to you and because you have no damn filter, you speak it before you can stop yourself.

“Margaret didn’t have sickness in her first few months with child?”

There’s a very thick pause and though it feels as if it lasts hours, it really is just a moment.

“Now that I think about it, she did wake up a few mornings feeling ill. We attributed it to rotten food or an outbreak of the sweating sickness. It passed after a few weeks so we…didn’t think…” He trails off, thinking back, his mind trapped in the past.

“I’m sorry.” You bite your lip hard, regretting your train of thought. You avert your eyes, down to his chest to avoid the look of sorrow you know you’ll find in those sea storm blues. “I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

Heat lines your jaw as Steve reaches up to cup the side of your face and with his thumb he smooths your lip, preventing you from biting it any longer.

“It was a fair question. I would want to know too. We should have picked up on the signs, but we weren’t trying to start a family although the Kingdom and the council expected it. Because of what we did-”

“Fighting the evils? Like Hydra?”

“Yes. Because of that, we didn’t want to start a family right away which wasn’t normal for my position especially. It was a surprise when I found out that she was carrying what would have been our first child.” The yearning in his voice is heartbreaking.

You aren’t jealous in this moment, but truly sorry. Margaret and Steve seemed to have really loved each other. To have had a child coming and lost it…

Reaching down you curl your hand around your own little swell but find Steve’s hand still pressed to it, his hand a bit firmer but just as careful as before.

“I’m so grateful to you for telling me. For showing me that I could live again. For letting me love you and our future heir.” Steve gushes so suddenly that your heart flips and dips, making you gasp in surprise. “I won’t make the same mistakes. I will cherish every moment we have together.”

“Steve…” You whisper, overcome with awe in how he can make you melt so easily.

Without warning, he dips his head and presses his lips to yours.

It’s a soft kiss, wanting but gentle. Your knees buckle and he catches you, wrapping his arm around your waist.

He chuckles, soft bubbles of air through your kiss. When he pulls back, he’s still chuckling.

There’s beauty in the way he smiles. The happiness in his face. The love in his eyes. It’s gorgeous but not in the way that attracts a person to another. His bliss is pure and radiant, and it fills you with hope.

You feel lucky to love him, but even if you could only see this happiness from the outside, you would be just as pleased. How amazing that you get to be one of the reasons he smiles like this.

“We should get going, your Majesties. This part of the Kingdom gets cold very fast and with night upon is, it will be too cold to stop again.” Peter looks down at the pair of you from the front of the carriage where he sits beside the coachman.

“Don’t you think you’re taking your duties a little too seriously? I’m here after all.” Steve rants, turning to look up at Peter with a look of tempered annoyance.

Peter smiles. “You told me to protect the Queen. I will do as commanded. Hurry up, please.”

Your turn to chuckle. “Do all of your friends talk to you like that?”

Steve sighs. “Just the ones that know me too well. He is right though. It will get very cold soon. Come. Will you be okay?”

“I think the worst is over.” You nod. “I’m ready.”

“Don’t worry, my blossom. I’ll keep you warm.” He whispers then helps you back in as the wind whistles and thrashes the moss green forest around you.

~~~~~~~~~~

Frost bites at your nose, the winter air like pinpricks against the exposed skin of your neck and cheeks.

“Here, bundle up.” Steve says, rushing to pull your cloak’s hood over your head.

In awe you stare at the so-called cottage before you, speckled with random dashes of quick melting snow.

“Steve…” You whisper, and he chuckles, leaning down to bury his nose against your temple.

“I love the way you say my name.” He whispers huskily, body shifting around yours and providing you with more of that delicious heat that you’d cuddled up against in the carriage for the length of your journey.

“I thought you said we were going to spend some time at your cottage?” You gasp.

Steve pulls back, sliding his hand along your forearm until he slips it into your hand and gently gives it a squeeze.

“We are. This was my mother’s favorite place. Empire Cottage. We spent every winter of my youth here.” Steve explains and pulls you forward. “Would you like a tour?”

He seems so happy that you don’t have the heart to tell him how much this is not a cottage. This is a castle. A small one, only about fifteen or so bedrooms probably but it still has towers—two of them with dark slate pointed roofs and parapets—and it still probably has two large halls for feasts and balls. There are extensive gardens lining the gravel drive up towards an arched stone canopy before the front doors for boarding carriages in the rain.

If the pale gray color is anything to go by, it’s a new addition. The rest of the stonework of the cottage is dark and weathered. Aged. This place has stood for many years.

“When our Kingdom was in its infancy, this was our castle. There are a few villages still standing a few hours’ ride out and you’ll find the ruins of the ones that gave up and chose to move closer to the new one. That one has only been around for-”

“Two hundred years?” You offer, freshly versed in the histories of Broklin.

“Yes.” Steve nods, shining with smiles for you before he pulls you along the curving drive.

You glance behind you, watching Peter and the coachman disappear into what must be a stable.

As the rocks crunch beneath your feet, Steve releases your hand in order to jog towards the small slope on either side of the drive where soft green grass grows peppered with bunches of what you recognize as freesias. Pale blue to contrast against the dark and light grays of the cottage behind them.

“My mother planted these. All of them. By hand.” Steve brags, and you can’t help but smile at his childlike excitement.

It feels almost out of place what with him and his big body and the brooding man you’d come to know, love, and fear.

Those storm blue eyes however are three shades lighter as they gleam with wistful but pleasant memories.

“They’re beautiful, Steve.” You move towards him and he holds out his hand for you.

Taking it, you let him lead you forward away from the trembling blossoms.

“I think it’ll probably snow tonight. One last freeze before Spring comes.” Steve tells you, just chit chat.

It’s so out of the norm, you’re not sure how to respond. So, you nod. “Mm.”

“Bucky jumped off of that boulder.” He tells you, pointing across the circular lawn between the curving drive. “Broke his ankle.”

He laughs just once, then looks at you just as you shiver.

“Oh, you’re cold.” He fusses. “Let’s get you inside.”

“No, I’m okay. Show me more.” You argue.

“We can see more later.” He insists and gives you no room to resist as he tucks your arm underneath his and walks you towards the front doors.

Inside you find dark, rich, very well-kept wooden walls and tan stone floors. Your eyes scan the vaulted ceilings, rafters exposed as he leads you through the cottage, up a set of pale wooden stairs lined with braziers along the stone walls that shift back into chocolate wood as the two of you reach the second-floor landing.

There are small coves in which the braziers sit and long, colorful tapestries adorn the spaces on the left and right.

The same insignia from your necklace stitched at the center.

Absentmindedly, you reach up to trace the shape.

Now that you see it so large…it looks like a shield. And really familiar…

“We’re here at the end.” Steve points, showing you the way.

“We are?” You wonder stupidly, still lost in the beautifully aged castle around you. It feels darker and drafty compared to home, but this place is cozy.

You’re beginning to understand why Kings of past have called this a cottage compared to the massive halls you’d left yesterday morning.

Steve stops, turning to look at you as the two of you reach a set of pale wooden doors. Made of driftwood?

You reach for it, fingers eager to feel the silken grain.

“Would you prefer to sleep by yourself?” He asks, and it’s the hurt…the disappointment that makes you look at him.

Despite the emotion you’re sure you just heard, he smiles, soft and kind. A smidge of tightness around his eyes is all that keeps the façade from ringing true.

“No.” You hurry to tell him, grabbing onto his hand more tightly. “No, of course not. I want you with me. I’m sorry, I just…for a moment I didn’t understand what you meant.”

The tension fades from his body.

You relax too. He slides his hand out of yours and you feel the gentle graze of his fingertips as he wraps his left arm around you, trailing that strange slightly warmer than normal heat down along the length of your spine to the small of your back.

He lays his hand flat, stealing your breath as it curves to your body and then he reaches for the handle of the door and pushes it open, still staring at you smiling as if you are the only thing in the world he can see.

For a moment, he’s all that matters. You’re not sure what has shifted between the two of you.

Yes, you’re pregnant. Yes, he knows that now and it’s why he was fussing over you the entire way here. Yes, he’s trying to make amends. Especially after the ridiculousness that happened with Sharon.

Your blood still boils when you think about it and the way she seemed not to care when you’d confronted her.

All of this, you know. What you most definitely know is that something has changed. Something large and permanent. You feel it in your bones as it carves Steve’s name within them and splinters you with his own altered bones.

Steve Rogers is different. You are different. Finally, as Steve leads you over the threshold into a large bedroom decorated in pale blue luxurious silks, linen, carpets, dark pine trunks, a vanity, a table large enough for four people to eat, and a roaring fire already filling the space with heat—finally, your marriage can start.

~~~~~~~~~~

“I’m sorry.” Steve sighs, hovering over you with his hands on the arms of your armchair.

He’s got his weight completely settled there where he’s holding your seat, looking down into your sleepy eyes as you blink them awake slowly and set aside the shirt you’d been working on.

It’s a normal shirt, one of Steve’s, dark red. You’ve been working in a pattern of dark blue and real silver threads. Expensive but pretty. Even with a tunic on, with the pattern worked only into the wrist and neckline, it will be visible and dress up any old tunic he chooses to wear with it.

“Don’t be.” You smile at him, trying to clear the fog of sleep from your mind.

“I am.” Steve insists. “This is supposed to be our time alone together and I’ve spent the first three days in council.”

“Hydra is attacking our people, Steve. I don’t begrudge you your duties. I only wish I could help more instead of sitting here stitching. Are you sure there’s nothing that I can do?” You reach up and stifle a yawn, Steve’s eyes sparkle with delight—at what you just said? He has the strangest reactions to some of the things you say.

At times you’re only making an observation or speaking your mind and more often than not, he pulls you to him and kisses you. Lately, those kisses have gotten slow, languid, like molten iron flowing slow and hot.

He does it this time too.

He hooks his hand behind your neck and draws your lips to his. With a slightly opened mouth, he takes your bottom lip between his and pulls a little before kissing you again, driving your sleep away.

With your mind in a flurry, he pulls back to look at your face, lips still puckered after his are gone.

He chuckles, just a quick bubble of air expelled as he brings his hand forward to stroke your cheek.

“What was that for?” You wonder, finally finding your voice through the swoon.

“For being my Queen.” He explains. “Because you deserve to be.”

“Even if I’m not high-born?” You whisper so that only he might hear. Just in case there are listening ears.

“Especially because you are not high-born.” He promises and places his hand back onto the seat.

You smile, at ease, and finally comfortable with him.

Over the past three days, Steve has spent a total of a few hours in your company.

He’s gone before you wake—"I’ve got to go. Sam and Bucky have come to deliver more news on the attacks to our smaller villages.” He kisses you slow but pulls away before you have chance to wrap your arm around his shoulder and he slides away as your hand slides along his arm until he’s out of reach—and he’s in bed long after you’ve gone to sleep.

He curls up behind you, warming you up with his heat, nuzzling into the back of your neck, wrapping you up so tight that you groan in slight protest because you can’t breathe but he’s only giving you a long squeeze.

When he releases you, you turn to look blink at him still asleep. He kisses your lips and you pucker your own but fall asleep before you’ve finished.

Despite this short time that you spend with him, things feel settled. This is who the two of you are. Both searching for a connection and finally having found it.

Slowly, he squats down hands still holding your chair as you adjust to look down at his beautiful blue eyes.

He opens his mouth to speak but the wind outside suddenly whistles. It seeps through the cracks in the old stone walls and the blaze set to warm the room crackles loudly, the cold wind finding a way to force it to dance.

You look behind you, staring at the window as a sudden fall of white begins.

“It’s snowing?” You gasp, slightly excited.

“Looks like it.” Steve says, then stands and moves to the window. “The ground will be covered by nightfall. It will be impossible to go anywhere in the morning.”

“Bucky and Sam?” You gasp, worried for their safety. “Are they staying?”

“They already left, my petal. Don’t worry.” Steve assures you and throws you a smile. “It’s just us now.”

“And Peter.” You remind him.

“Peter is in the small manor behind the castle, along with almost all of the staff.” He moves towards you, slow deliberate steps. His boots echo with a gentle tap until he stops before you. “We’re finally alone, my flower.”

Your heart seizes up, nervous flutters fill your tummy. You’re wrapped up in a thick woolen shawl, settled over the long and relaxed gray dress you’d chosen to wear while you lounge indoors. It sits off your shoulders in a pattern of dark gray lace.

Steve offers you his hand and you wonder if you’re ready. If this time will be the right time. You’re eager. But you’re scared. Everything that’s happened before rings fresh in your mind as you take his hand and he pulls you to your feet.

Letting you go, he slips his hands underneath your shawl, his calloused fingers stroking the soft skin of your shoulders as he pushes the shawl away and it falls onto the seat you’d just been sitting on.

You can’t breathe. You’re so nervous it’s like your wedding night all over again.

Fear begins to grow as you remember the pleading. The begging. The pain.

“Steve…?” You whisper, looking up to find him watching you carefully.

He suddenly dips down, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you flush against his chest. While you wrap your arms around his neck timidly, he lifts you easily, your feet dangling as he carries you towards the end of the bed.

“I have so much to make up for.” He tells you, his voice pained, hurt. As if it physical ails him to remember what you’re remembering too.

“Steve…” You lament with him, trying to move past the rough images that fill your mind.

“Forgive me, my sweet. My love.” He grieves.

“Steve…” Is all you seem to be able to say.

He puts you down on the bed and before you can catch your breath, he’s kissing you again. With his knee on the edge, his hand holding the back of your head to keep your kiss pressed, he slides his hand down along your leg until he can flip his hand underneath your long skirts.

As his skin grazes your ankle, you gasp and pull out of the kiss to watch him.

“Do you trust me?” He asks, his hand now locked around your ankle.

Every other part of him but the rise and fall of his shoulders as he breathes deep and labored, freezes. He is a statue, waiting for your word.

But you have no voice.

You nod.

He comes rushing back up to meet your lips, collapsing on top of you, the full force of his body pressing you into the mattress as he lays you back. His tongue slides along your lips and you open for him as he explores the taste of your raspberry flavored lips.

Kissing him is easy. You love this. But as his body presses into yours, crushing you against the soft bed, a panic begins to grow in your chest.

It’s a fledgling of a feeling, and suddenly, his body is gone. You gasp as he releases you, searching for him in a frenzy to keep him in view.

But you don’t see him. You expected him to stand up, remove his shirt to expose for you the perfection of his body.

Instead you see the fabric of your skirts rise and then fall again.

Pushing yourself up, you rest on your elbows to get a good look and finally feel Steve’s hands find your legs again.

You can’t see him, hidden as he is beneath your dress, but his hands pull your legs wider and you don’t have the strength to resist. You don’t want to resist.

You’re scared…but you trust him.

He pulls off your shoes and the clatter against the floor. His lips are pressed to the inside of your right ankle, the tip of his tongue trails up along your calf then back down to press another kiss. He repeats this move on your left leg and you try not to hyperventilate.

You don’t want to faint now.

He takes his time, repeats the same movements until your skin is pimpled and your heart begins to slow.

Placing his hands flat against the sides of your knees, he traces them up along your thighs, the rough skin of his hands renewing the stutter in your heart.

Heat puddles between your legs and you’re suddenly very embarrassed.

You try to shut them but he’s right there, already kissing the inside of your thighs. He nips at them, biting down on the soft fleshy bits before kissing and licking at the offended skin.

You’re gushing, too nervous to realize that you’re actually enjoying yourself. His touch feels good. Better than good.

It feels just as you’d wished it had from the beginning.

He pushes your legs apart further, grabbing behind your knees to push them up and over his shoulders.

“Steve…” You whimper, voice high and wheezing.

Hot air floods against your bare cunt as he breathes on you, “Hhhaaaaaaaaa….” It’s an audible breath, muffled only by the layers of fabric still keeping him from view.

He presses his nose to your clit, and instinctively you reach down to place your hands on the bulge that is his head. You don’t push but instinct is telling you to. This is embarrassing.

He’s smelling you. He’ll know your scent…What you smell like in your most intimate of places.

A sudden and very slow flick of tongue spreads your folds and you whimper with shock.

Falling onto you back, you find a spot on the pale blue canopy of your bed to stare at.

“You’re gushing, my sweet…” Steve tells you, and you try to close your legs again but he’s already there and he dives in.

The sound is lurid, a soft slur and squelch as he opens his mouth and suckles on as much of your pussy as he can. His tongue explores your insides, finding your entrance to tickle and savor.

You moan, toes curling against his back as he scoots closer and hooks his hands around your hips.

As he finds your clit and laps at it with a passionate almost hungry fervor, you reach down to pull your skirts up over his head.

You want to see him. This is everything you’ve wanted. Maybe not specifically this, but Steve with you…enjoying your body.

His blonde hair peeks out first but as your skirts fall away to expose his half-hidden face, he looks at you and meets your gaze.

His eyes are dark, blown out from lust as he becomes more aggressive and latches to your clit to suck.

Your hips quake, stuttering as the pleasure begins to press along your cunt.

He breaks away, catching his breath but hurries up to rest over your body once more and kiss you soft.

You can taste yourself on his lips and tongue as he explores the hollow of your open mouth.

“You taste like sugar, my sweet.” He whispers, voice deep and husky.

“Steve…” You moan, and he slides back down to spread your folds with two fingers before tasting you again.

He settles over your clit, tongue flicking at the nub with want and speed. He suckles on it, pressing his tongue flat against the bud.

You whimper more loudly as the pressure catches you by surprise.

“Steve!” You moan, shocked by the rush of it.

“Mmmph.” He moans, shaking his head almost violently. Running his tongue fast against your clit.

It pushes you over and your body is suddenly floating. It’s unreal. It doesn’t exist for this one moment in time.

A wave of numbness flows from your cunt down into your legs, to your toes and feet where they go limp against Steve’s back.

Your hands, curled into his hair, go slack as your body melts into the mattress.

Steve is still there, licking and nipping at your cunt, making you twitch.

You’re wrapped up in bliss and you don’t know which way is up or down, only that Steve is still there, making you want more.

Your hands tighten once more as the moments pass and you try to tug his head up from between your legs.

“Steve…oh, Steve…” You sigh, satisfied and happy. “Kiss me…”

He smiles at you, eyes curling at the corners with the brightness of his own happiness, but he shakes his head.

“Why?” You ask, as he laps at you some more.

When he stops, you can see his chin drizzled with your slick. He licks his lips and a fresh wave of arousal floods between your legs.

“One down.” He says, then hooks his hand into the fold of your thighs and hips to pull you down towards the edge of the bed again. “One-hundred and eighty-one to go.”

“Wha-?” You begin to ask, confused by the number, but then he’s back on your cunt, his tongue working its magic and setting your skin on fire.

#king!steve x reader #king!steve x reader fanfiction #king!steve x you #medieval au #arranged marriage au #marvel fanfiction #steve rogers x reader #captain america x reader #pseudo princess #pseudo princess pt20

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