#because he has his voice trained to vibrate peoples bones

[aquaticmercy]

Blood Bound

Part 2 to Bloodlust Companion text: What is a Blood Bond?

Summary : You are blood bonded to Bucky. The problem? You don't know what a blood bond is.

Pairing : Bucky Barnes x half-vampire!reader (she/her in mind)

Warnings/tags : Blood. Cursing. Sexual tension. Pleasure from a vampire bite (?). Brief mention of sex (not graphic). Violence.

Word count : 3.1k

Note : Reader is a daywalker like Blade. John Walker and Eric Brooks feature in this because I kinda tolerate John because I think he has potential to be a well-written character, and I loved the Blade comics as a kid. Enjoy!

Whatever manifested between you and Bucky after the feeding only grew stronger in the days that followed. 

It wasn’t just the bite, nor was it just the intoxicating power of his super-soldier blood; it was something more— it has to be. It was something that you could not identify yet— it was as if it unlocked something dormant.

You didn’t understand it. The only bond you knew of was the familiar bond— and that required Bucky drinking your blood, not the other way around.

You knew you should’ve read up more on the history of vampirism. Granted, your lack of knowledge at this point wasn’t entirely your fault— you hadn’t lived very long, at least not by vampire standards. You haven’t even lived through a human lifetime yet.

You had barely scratched the surface of the supernatural experience. Eric Brooks had told you to read thousands of ancient inscriptions, and you were even a quarter way there yet. 

Besides, maybe you were just overthinking it. Maybe this was just what it felt to feed on an enhanced being.

Of course, you had fed on people before Eric— Blade— found you. He had seen you as a feral teenage daywalker, reckless but full of potential. It had been different then. Human blood was good but not great, it just gave you sustenance. You’d always imagine you had to get used to blood the same way high school kids learned to like beer.

When Eric took you in, he gave you shelter. He gave you a home and proper training. He gave you bags of serum monthly— ones he developed as a blood replacement. He gave you scrolls to study, books to read.

He told you to never ever consume human blood, even if it means you would never be satisfied.

Well, you broke that rule.

It had been weeks now since you first fed on Bucky’s blood, and now you could feel him like a second pulse.

It started with small things. So small that it went unnoticed at first. You’d reach for a glass of water, only to have him pass it to you before you even realized you were thirsty. He’d appear beside you on missions, his arms raised to protect you the second you sensed an incoming attack. And his injuries—those bruises and cuts you’d tend to— left ghostly aches on your skin.

After the feeding, both your powers became something else entirely. 

Your already sharp reflexes were sharper, your speed more supernatural that it should be. Bucky noticed it too—he moved with more than super soldier agility, leaping over gates as if they weren’t there, dodging bullets with uncanny ease. 

It wasn’t just that. Your emotions flowed into each other in unexpected surges. 

When Bucky felt anger, a hot, restless fury built within you, too. When your mind was clouded by doubt or fear, he’d tense up beside you.

One evening, after a particularly grueling mission, you both stumbled back to your shared apartment. His shirt was ripped, exposing the bruises mottling his chest. He tried to ignore it, but he knew you felt it, too. 

“I need you,” he murmured, voice steady, almost begging. 

“Bucky, we can’t keep doing this,” You swallowed. “What if you get hurt?”

“I won’t,” he growled, fingers brushing over your cheek, voice thick with longing. “Don’t you feel it? I’m stronger, faster— I’m healing quicker than I ever have before. Whatever this is, it’s changing both of us.”

The words hung in the air. You’d felt it too, that surge of power, that electric hum that vibrated through your bones.

“What is this?” you whispered, not expecting an answer. “What is it doing to us?”

“Let’s find out,” he said, his voice a dark, thrilling promise as he leaned in, the heat of his breath grazing your skin.

You hesitated, a pang of guilt tugging at your heartstrings. “Maybe we should ask Eric. He’s dealt with this daywalker thing longer—he might understand—”

There was a glint of frustration in his gaze. “And have him tell you to stop feeding off me? To go back to starving, until you waste away?” His hand cupped your face, pulling you closer. “His serum isn’t working anymore. Cow blood isn’t working. You need this. And I’m not about to let you go through hell to satisfy someone else’s rules.”

You felt your guard slipping, his words and the heat in his eyes breaking down your last defences. He was offering himself to fill the void inside you. And you couldn’t deny him any longer.

Before you knew it, his lips were on yours, fierce and demanding, his hands gripping your waist as he pulled you onto his lap.

Slowly, you let your fangs graze his skin, a soft, tantalizing scrape that drew a low groan from his throat. His hands tightened around you. With a gentle press, you sank your fangs in.

The first taste of his blood hit you like a shockwave, the way it did the first time. He flooded your senses in a dizzying head rush. He tasted so intoxicating that it left you gasping.

You felt his pulse in your mouth, steady and strong.

“Fuck…” he groaned, his voice rough, almost pleading. “Don’t stop.”

His words were a spark to the fire inside you. His blood was like a drug. You couldn’t talk where you ended and he began.

His hands roamed over your back, fingers tracing every curve, pressing you closer as if he couldn’t bear any distance between you. The way he held you, the way he breathed your name—it was like he was offering every part of himself to you

When you finally pulled back, Bucky’s eyes were heavy-lidded. He reached up, brushing his thumb over your lips, smearing the faint trace of his own blood as he gazed at you, his hazy eyes a mixture of wonder and desire.

“I’m yours,” he whispered, his voice a low growl.

Without thinking, you pressed your lips to the mark you’d left, your tongue flicking over the wound as he shivered. You could feel his pulse slowing, his heartbeat returning to a steady rhythm as the euphoria settled over him. He looked almost dazed, a lazy, satisfied smile on his lips as he gazed up at you.

“You really think Eric would understand?” he murmured, his voice soft but tinged with a dark humour.

You laughed softly, brushing your fingers through his hair. “He wouldn’t,” you savoured the warmth beneath your hands. “And I don’t care. This… this is ours.”

He let out a low, satisfied hum, his hand sliding down to rest on your thigh, his thumb tracing slow circles that sent a shiver up your spine. 

The feeding continued, more frequently, and you both realised the connection you felt went beyond survival in battle.

The first time you felt each other’s pleasure in bed, it hit you both like a wave, powerful and dizzying, sweeping through you so intensely that you weren’t sure where your body ended and his began. His pleasure sparked in your core, racing along your nerves like electricity, feeding back into him, and then doubling again within you. The feeling grew in an endless loop.

Every gasp, every moan became a shared experience, each sensation reverberating between you in dizzying echoes. His touch, as he moved within you, left you quivering; his breath against your neck seemed to burn, intensifying every rush of desire until you could barely breathe.

It was all-consuming.

And then, once, you’d fed from him in the midst of it, your lips against his neck as his pulse thundered beneath your mouth. The second your teeth broke skin, a flood of his essence surged through you, a rush so potent, so intoxicating, you nearly lost yourself in it. 

It was more than pleasure; it was pure, unfathomable ecstasy, a high that pulled both of you into an untethered oblivion.

Afterward, both of you lay tangled together, limbs intertwined. It was as though pieces of yourselves had fused. It was the most intense connection you’d ever felt, something neither of you could put into words. Even if you could, it would never do it justice. 

In the silences you shared, you knew that no other pleasure could ever compare to what you shared.

—

The mist hung thick around the old Hydra outpost, cloaking it in a damp chill that seeped into your skin, even with your heightened senses. The place reeked of decay and rot. A vampire nest thrived in the old base— newly turned vampires hiding from the world, growing stronger, more feral with each night that passed.

They killed people. They turned people.

You, Bucky, Eric Brooks, and John Walker were there to wipe them out before they could spread their sickness further.

Eric took point, his silhouette sharp in the mist as he motioned for you and Bucky to fan out around him.

“Close ranks.” His voice was barely a whisper. “No one goes in solo."

You nodded, knowing better than to push against his authority. 

John, off to the side, gave Bucky a wry look. "Better keep up, Barnes.”

You could smell the faintest whiff of fear from John—though he’d never admit it. 

You moved forward, sinking deeper into the ruins, stopped by cracked concrete walls that loomed like tombstones.

Your eyes met Bucky’s. 

As you scaled the wall together, Bucky’s fingers brushing the concrete just behind yours.

John huffed below, struggling to keep up. His irritation crackled in the air as he muttered, “I thought we were both supersoldiers.”

“You’re getting slow, Walker,” Bucky said, his voice a low rasp, though he didn’t look down.

Once at the top, you peered down into the yard below. The stench hit you—stale human blood, mould, the faint copper tang of vampire blood. You all dropped down with a quiet thud, though John was louder than you’d like him to be. 

“Left flank,” Eric instructed, motioning toward the entrance, his eyes never leaving yours. You nodded, gripping the hilt of your knife, feeling its hunger.

Bucky moved beside you, ready, his presence as familiar as your own heartbeat. John and Eric fanned out to the right, slipping into the murky depths of the compound with grim determination.

The first vampire appeared just as you and Bucky reached the door, its eyes blazing red in the dim light. It had time to hiss, but not to scream. You launched yourself at it, your knife slicing through. 

A second figure lunged at Bucky, but before it could touch him, you were there, your blade found the vampire’s heart.

Bucky grinned, a wild, reckless glimmer in his eyes. “You didn’t have to do that.”

You shrugged wordlessly, almost casually.

Inside the base, the halls were narrow and cold, every corner shrouded in shadows. Bloodstains smeared the walls, and the smell of decay lingered thickly in the air. You moved quickly, every step calculated, every breath measured. The vampires were emerging in hoards now, drawn by the scent of fresh blood and the thrill of a fight. They came at you in waves—fangs bared, claws extended, feral eyes blazing.

One raked its nails across your shoulder, tearing into muscle. You winced, and Bucky’s eyes snapped to you, feeling the sharp pain sear through him, too. He yanked it off, his fist connecting with its jaw with a brutal crack. You pivoted, driving your knife through its chest, twisting until you felt the resistance give way.

John staggered past, panting as he took down a vampire, his face slick with sweat. He cast a sidelong glance at you and Bucky, frustration etched deep into his scowl. “How are you both running circles around us?”

“Stay focused, Walker,” Eric barked, but you could tell he’d heard John. He’d noticed how your movements mirrored Bucky’s, how you flinched when he did, even how you were breathing in time with each other. Eric’s gaze lingered too long, as if he was convincing himself something he didn’t want to believe.

“You’ve been off the blood serum for a while,” Blade murmured suddenly, his voice low and directed at you. “What have you been feeding on, kid?”

“Animal blood” you said quietly, keeping your gaze neutral, slashing down another vampire with ease.

Eric’s knuckle tightened, and you knew he didn’t believe you. He’d taught you everything you knew, raised you like a sister. And here you were, deceiving him with half-truths.

Before he could respond, another wave of vampires rushed you from the darkness, cutting the conversation short. 

Blade fought beside you, taking in every detail of the fight, every flinch, every glance you shared with Bucky.

“If you’re feeding on something else, you need to tell me.” He stepped closer, beheading a bloodsucker without even looking at it. “Now.”

You wanted to tell him, to explain the connection you shared with Bucky, and asked if he knew what the hell was going on, but the words caught in your throat. 

The fear of his disapproval held you back. He had warned you so many times against crossing that line, of giving into the hunger that all vampires struggled to control. And yet… Bucky had been different. 

You shoved Eric back, drawing his attention to the fight. “Save it for later,” you said, your voice clipped. “We’ve got company.”

You turned, facing down the horde with Bucky at your side, the two of you tearing through the vampires with an intensity that bordered on frenzy. Each kill was swift— brutal. Your knife left trails of gore in your wake, while Bucky’s fists shattered skulls with merciless precision.

At one point, you felt the burn of a blade slicing across your forearm, a deep, ragged cut that sent a surge of pain up your arm. But before you could react, Bucky flinched beside you, clutching his own arm as if he’d been wounded too. 

His gaze shifted back and forth between you and him. He moved in close, his voice barely a whisper as he muttered, “This isn’t normal.”

You didn’t answer, couldn’t answer. You didn’t know what was happening.

The final vampire fell, its scream echoing down the blood-stained halls. The four of you stood in the aftermath, panting, bruised, and blood-soaked. The air was thick with the scent of the undead.

Eric’s gaze shifted to Bucky. “This shouldn’t be possible,” he muttered, almost to himself. “A blood bonded daywalker…”

Your heart hammered in your chest. You didn’t know what a blood bond was, never even heard of it. But the way Eric said it made your heart skip a beat.

Eric’s gaze softened for a brief moment, a shadow of pity flickering across his face. “If this is what I think it is…”

Eric didn’t press any further, but as you moved toward the exit, his words lingered in your mind, haunting and unshakeable. Whatever had happened between you and Bucky, you didn’t know.

And maybe, deep down, you didn’t want to.

—

As the four of you trudged out of the Hydra base, John caught up next to Bucky with a skeptical glance. His breath hung in clouds around them in the night air, but he ignored the cold, eyes narrowed on Bucky’s calm, steady pace.

"Alright, Barnes," he muttered, keeping his voice low so you and Eric wouldn’t hear. "You gonna tell me what the hell’s going on? Did you get a new serum or something?"

Bucky raised an eyebrow. "What are you talking about?"

"Don’t play dumb,” John snapped, frustration creeping into his tone. “I’m not blind. You’re faster. Stronger. You and..." He glanced in your direction before lowering his voice even more. "You both are."

Bucky shrugged, “Guess I’ve been working out,” he replied coolly, brushing John off with the kind of indifference that only seemed to make him angrier.

“That’s not funny.” John’s frustration was barely concealed.

For a moment, Bucky’s eyes flicked toward you, watching as you spoke quietly with Eric up ahead. 

“I told you, Walker,” he brushed off, “maybe you’re just getting slow.

—

The safe house was dark and quiet, a farmhouse in the middle of nowhere. 

You barely had time to breathe before Bucky’s hand wrapped around your arm. He guided you into the bathroom, shutting the door.

Bucky’s lifted you to sit on the edge of the sink, his eyes taking in the blood on your shoulder, concern flickering across his face. 

The cut wasn’t closing as quickly as he’d like it to, your shoulder throbbing faintly— so did his. 

“Let me see it,” he said, voice low but intense, as he reached for the hem of your shirt. You started to protest, but he was insistently stubborn.

“It’s nothing,” you murmured, but even you could hear the strain in your voice. 

Without another word, he took off your tactical gear, the cool air brushing over the cut on your back. His eyes darted over the wound. 

Then, without hesitation, he pulled off his own shirt. “You know it’ll help you heal faster,” he whispered, his lips ghosting over yours before he tilted his head, offering his neck to you.

Your lips met his, almost desperate. You were satisfying a hunger as he pulled you closer, his hand tangling in your hair, your nails grazing his skin as you wrapped your legs around his waist. 

Then, slowly, you angled his neck.

You could hear his heartbeat, strong and steady, as you pressed soft, lingering kisses on his skin. 

Finally, you bit down.

A euphoric thrill coursed through you as his blood flowed into your mouth, filling you with a euphoric sensation that spread through every nerve, igniting something primal within both of you.

Bucky’s hands gripped your waist, pulling you closer. His breaths came faster as he tilted his head back, a low, almost pleading sound escaping him. Each swallow of his blood was a pleasure so vast it felt spiritual. His fingers tangled in your hair, nails digging into your skin.

The moment was so intense that neither of you heard the door creak open.

“What the fuck…” John’s voice was harsh and full of shock.

You jerked back, catching John’s wide eyes. He took in the scene— your mouth still stained with Bucky’s blood, his arm around your waist. His confusion morphedl into anger. “Are you… drinking his blood?”

Eric was right behind him, his rage thunderous. For a moment, he looked between you and Bucky, piecing it together with a calm that was worse than John’s horror. 

“This is what you call animal blood,” Eric said in a quiet accusation.

You glanced at Bucky, whose face had gone rigid. He didn’t pull away from you, his hand still resting protectively on your waist.

“I… I can explain,” you started, but even you weren’t sure what to say.

Eric’s gaze shifted from you to Bucky, a flicker of recognition in his eyes that turned grim. He muttered under his breath, “do you have any idea what you’ve done?”

-to be continued(?)

shall I make a part 3 or turn it into a series?

[allowmetohityouwithmyreblog]

This is literally more than i could've ever hoped for- like ultrasonic noise?? Literally perfect no notes and it looks incredible 😭

Hii! I just found your blog and I’m completely in love with your art style- is there any chance you could draw Aizawa with voice? I saw how you drew Hizashi with erasure and I can’t stop thinking about Aizawa with his voice quirk! Thanks for reading my ask!! :3

HIII THANK YOU SO MUCH !!!! honestly, i thought about it, and i didn't think that aizawa would use Voice as a quirk the way that mic does AT ALL. i think he would use it as a silent-but-deadly weapon via ultrasonic sounds, vibrations, and resonance. for example, once he found the natural frequency of bones, he could achieve resonance with them, and his opponent would essentially be ultrasonically paralyzed. he may also take inspiration from orcas, and use loud clicking/echolocation-like sounds to overstimulate and disorient opponents !

he can also totally definitely just scream if he's in immediate danger too, of course

also, this is the first thing i thought of LMFAOOOO

[shotmrmiller]

The cool air that sweeps over your skin once you board the train feels like a gentle splash of water on a sweltering summer day. The sudden temperature change sends a shiver down your sweat-slick back, the hair on your arms standing on end in sharp relief. You press a hand to your chest, feeling the drumming of your heart against it.

You almost hadn't made it.

Everything had gone awry from the moment your alarm went off. First, you'd snoozed the clock. Half an hour later, your eyes snapped open, the horizon that'd just started to blush with the first hint of dawn giving way to a vibrant, limpid morning blue.

Shit.

You had called a cab while you were hastily getting ready, brushing your teeth, washing your face, only for it to arrive within 5 minutes. Five.

With the honking outside, you quickly threw on the first piece of clothing you found.

As you sat in the car, deliberately ignoring the driver's heated glare through the rearview mirror, you'd patted down your crinkled dress before crossing your legs, and realized—

You've got no knickers on. Double shit.

Whatever. It'll be fine. You were taking an overnight train across the country and even got yourself a private little room to sleep in. All would be well. But you had to get there first and boarding would start in 15 minutes.

Navigating through the aimless crowd of people had been excruciating. Children weaving in and out coupled with elderly folk stopping to chat up their friends with zero regard for foot traffic. Agony.

(You're fully aware that no one is at fault here but yourself.)

Almost hadn't made it but almost only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades.

Your heartbeat's still pounding in your ears as you walk down the narrow aisle, arms burning with the weight of your luggage bag and the tote slung around your shoulder. The thought of settling into your cabin and finally taking a breather propels you forward, albeit sluggishly.

The metronomic clatter of the wheels on the tracks smothers that burning sense of urgency you've felt since you woke. Weariness seeps into your bones once your cabin door comes into view. There's no other thought in your head apart from putting your stuff away and getting off your feet as you fumble for the handle.

In your fatigued haze, you hadn't noticed someone already inside. The world, once fuzzy around the edges, sharpens to cutting clarity in your shock. He's a big man. Very big. He looks like he's been carved out of oak— broad and solid. His shoulders are wide, stretching the seams of his shirt. His thick arms are draped along the backrest of the seat. The breadth of his chest— should, probably does— defies anatomy.

He's got legs like tree trunks. And they're sprawled outward, taking up a lot, if not most of the room. There's a bag resting against your seat even though the overhead space is empty. A bulky, grey jacket lays about.

You're tired, not blind. This is definitely the cabin you paid for with your measly income. But you're scared witless at the mere thought of trying to kick him out. He'll eat you. Gnaw your bones with his molars to dust for the offense.

You tug on the ends of the knot that is lodged in your throat, hoping to get some words out, but it only seems to tighten. The man's keen eyes lock onto yours, unblinking. Heavy with a weight that presses down on your back, your shoulders. Even the air itself.

The gentle click of the sliding door shutting behind you has your heart trying to crawl out of your mouth. (Possibly your arse, too, but you're not sure of anything right now, other than you're about to burst into tears because his gaze followed the motions of you shakily hoisting your bag up higher on your shoulder.)

His voice is a deep rumble— rich and resounding. You swear you could feel the air vibrate as he spoke.

"Sit down 'fore ya hurt yourself." It startles you into action, like a starter's pistol before a swim race. Quickly rising to the tips of your toes, you put your luggage bag away, giving it a couple of smacks to push it all the way back.

You mumble out a garbled 'scuse me as you traipse past his outstretched legs, carefully stepping over them, only to brush against his knee. You flinch, he doesn't.

"Sorry." Heat blooms beneath your cheeks. Embarrassing. You shove your tote into a little corner, its humble size dwarfed by his frame. With trembling fingers, you pull the back of your—very thin, now that you think about it— dress down, trying to compose yourself, before taking a seat.

Directly in front of him.

And he's still staring. Vaguely, you wonder if he can see your fluttering pulse beneath the delicate skin of your neck.

There's a lot of people on the train. That unbearably long line you had to stand in to board it was the proof. Yet it's unnervingly silent. Not one distant tinkle of laughter. No gentle hum of murmured conversation. Clinking of spoons against coffee cups.

Just a sharp, high-pitched whistle of the wind outside the window. Even he isn't making a sound. No rustling of clothes, no shifting around. Motionless.

You nervously grab at the skirt of your dress, clammy fingers curling, fabric bunching within your tightened fist, white staining your knuckles. The hem of your dress is frayed, like your nerves at this moment.

Oh no.

You flash your eyes to the guy's face but he's no longer paying attention to you. He's now looking straight at the apex of your legs. Your very naked apex. Amusement dances across his rugged features. His ash-blonde eyebrows quirking slightly, corner of his thin-lipped mouth curling.

The room tilts slightly, a dizzying sensation that leaves you momentarily unbalanced. Mortification pricks at your nerves, gathers in the corners of your eyes, threatening to spill. An ear-grating squeak escapes past your clenched teeth as you jerkily tug down the skirt, the hem settling against your shins.

A tiny hiccup punctuates the moment.

His mud-caked boot taps the outside of your foot, demanding your attention. "Now, now. Nothin' to be ashamed of, birdy," he grunts. Then, with casual ease, he slides it in between yours, this time nudging the inside of them.

A recognizable gesture.

Open up.

(there's no getting a staff member to remove him. they're all half his size. and can he at least shut the blinds on the window????)

[sequinsmile-x]

Filigree

She’d had worse, she knew that. But every other major injury had been a result of her job or protecting the people she loves, this was down to pure stupidity on her part and it made the broken bone all the more embarrassing. 

The worst part, she thought, was that Aaron had told her to not go onto the jungle gym at the park with the kids, and the bastard had been right.

-x-

Look, I had two hours to kill on my train journey to London this morning, I asked @ssa-sparks what she wanted to read, she said a injury fic with fluff, and here we are.

This is just...classic Vic fluff with a touch of hurt/comfort. Hope you enjoy this!

(Also I am sorry if this sucks I literally wrote it in two hours!!)

-x-

Words: 2k

Warnings: None

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

“I hate this.” 

Aaron has to suppress a laugh, knowing his wife wouldn’t thank him for it at all, “I know you do sweetheart,” he sits on the edge of the bath, smiling at her as he watches her settle as comfortably as she can, “You’re sure you don’t want me to wash your hair?” 

She nods, “It can last another day or so,” she says, sighing miserably, “You can shave my legs for me though if you want, I don’t want you to mistake me for a cactus when we go to bed later.” 

He does laugh at that and leans forward to kiss her forehead when she frowns at him, looking nothing short of adorable with her hair pilled up on top of her head in a messy bun and her right arm in a bright white cast, currently wrapped in a plastic bag so it didn’t get wet, that ended just short of her elbow. 

“You make a beautiful cactus.” 

“Aaron.” 

He hears the warning tone in her voice but sees the smile she tries, and fails, to stop, and he leans forward to kiss her again before he pulls back. He looks at her arm, wincing as it hits the side of the bath as she hangs it over the side. Through the bag he’d diligently wrapped it in he could see the drawings from their kids. Brightly coloured scribbles from their 3-year-old and 18-month-old, and a dinosaur drawn by Jack. 

“Does your arm hurt?” 

She grimaces at the thought of it, her arm throbbing inside the cast and she shrugs, “It’s fine.”

She’d had worse, she knew that. But every other major injury had been a result of her job or protecting the people she loves, this was down to pure stupidity on her part and it made the broken bone all the more embarrassing. 

The worst part, she thought, was that Aaron had told her to not go onto the jungle gym at the park with the kids, and the bastard had been right. Thankfully, either through his love for her or fear she’d divorce him, he hadn’t mentioned it. As always he’d been nothing but supportive and loving, making sure their toddlers were extra careful around her, both of their daughters used to climbing all over her whenever they wanted. 

She watches as he grabs her razor, “Just don’t cut me, I’ve already got enough injuries.”

“I have done this before, you know,” he says raising an eyebrow at her, making her smile, any irritation at him that had been thrumming under her skin disappearing at the memory of him doing this for her when she was pregnant. 

The night before she was induced to give birth to Ivy she’d asked him to help her shave her legs, a slightly desperate look on her face that he knew was brought on by being almost 42 weeks pregnant and exhaustion that was bone deep. She hadn’t thought about it until they were ready to go to bed, both aware they would get little sleep due to the excitement and nervous anticipation of how everything was about to change practically vibrating in the air around them. He’d done it a few times before that, something that came about because he’d walked into the bathroom to find her crying because she couldn’t reach over her bump anymore. Whilst he had known it was something she was worrying about unnecessarily, and that she certainly wouldn’t care if she had freshly shaven legs when she was in labour, and neither would the medical staff, he did it without comment. 

When she had Hazel she hadn’t had the chance, the youngest Hotchner born four weeks early as opposed to her sister’s two weeks late, a keenness to be involved in everything that hadn’t come close to fading in the 18 months since she’d been born. 

Emily reaches out for him, trailing her fingers, and droplets of water, through his hair, “I know,” she replies, tugging him in for a kiss, “You’re the best husband I’ve ever had.” 

He shakes his head at her, turning around briefly to reach for his, very expensive, self-heating shaving cream, “I’m the only husband you’ve ever had.” 

She chuckles, and shrugs, “Then you’ve set the bar so impossibly high I guess I’m stuck with you,” she winks, and she watches him open the can of shaving cream and rub some into his palms, “Oh, your fancy shaving cream. You really must love me.” 

“You’re saying that like you don’t use it every time you do this,” he quips, indicating with his hands that he’s ready for her.  She lifts one of her legs out of the water and rests it on his thigh, the water making his jeans stick to his leg. He takes the weight of her leg in his hands and is gentle as he rubs the cream into her skin, taking as much care and concentration with the task as he does with everything.

There is something about it that takes her breath away, the intimacy of it making her heart swell in her chest, the warmth of his love for her mixing in with the heat of the bath and the cream he was massaging into her skin. It makes her cheeks flush and she has to bite the inside of her cheek to stop herself from smiling too widely, still shy about this, about how much she loves him, even after all these years. 

He’s silent as he shaves her leg, all of his concentration on making sure he doesn’t cut her skin, the only sound in the room the splash of the water as he swills the razor in the bath water. She smiles as he pays careful attention to her knee and her ankle, clearly remembering her instructions from when she was pregnant with Ivy. 

“You’re too good to me, do you know that?” she asks, smiling softly at him when he looks up at her, his hold on her still gentle, his eyebrows knitting together. 

“I love you in the way you deserve, Em, nothing more,” he says, pressing a kiss to her knee before he lowers it back into the water. He stands and kisses her, his hand on her cheek when he pulls back, “You deserve the world.” 

She presses her lips into a firm line, swallowing thickly to push down the emotions climbing up her throat, a fruitless attempt to stop herself from being overwhelmed by love for him, for the life they have together. The simple, beautiful life they had both fought for. The one she had died for. 

“I love you,” she says, leaning forward and stamping a kiss against his lips. 

“I love you too,” he replies, tucking some hair behind her ear before he stands up, his back cracking at the angle as he rounds the bathtub, “Now, I’d better do your other one so I don’t end up in bed with a hybrid of my wife and a cactus.” 

She narrows her eyes at him and splashes water in his direction in retribution, laughing when he yelps as bubbles land on his cheek.

___

“Mama fell,” Hazel says, her soft voice as she gently traces tiny fingers over her mother’s cast. Emily kisses the top of her daughter’s head and pulls her closer with her good arm. 

“Yes, baby, Mama fell,” she says, sighing at the memory. The accident had happened in front of the kids, and it had taken a lot of convincing from her and from Aaron that she would be ok, all three of them worried about their mother. They’d watched her like hawks ever since as if they were concerned she would just disappear. 

Jack was out with a friend, getting him to go was another thing that had taken some convincing from his parents, and Aaron was in the kitchen cleaning up from dinner, leaving Emily in the living room with Ivy and Hazel. They were all curled up on the couch, Emily sitting in the corner so her right arm was balanced on the arm of the couch on top of a cushion. Hazel was curled up into her side and Ivy was next to her sister, her small hand trailing up and down Emily’s, now smooth, calf. 

There’s a Disney movie they’ve all seen a hundred times on the tv and Emily sighs as she imagines the many different ways she’d kill an animated snowman if she had the chance as she idly plays with her youngest’s hair. 

“Mommy?” Ivy asks, drawing Emily’s attention towards her. She looks at her daughter and has to stop herself from smiling as the little girl furrows her brow, looking so much like Aaron that it makes Emily smile, the three-year-old looking every bit as stern as her father, “You do my hair?” 

Emily sighs, reaching past Hazel to run her fingers through her eldest daughter’s long and unruly hair. Ivy had been born with a head full of thick dark hair, something even the midwife had commented on. Emily had been determined to learn how to do fancy braids with her daughter’s hair ever since then. She’d never cared much about doing anything more than throwing her own up into a ponytail, but she wanted to do better for them. So she’d learnt. Watched videos on YouTube and asked Penelope for advice, the technical analyst delighted to help. 

Her heart twists in her chest at Ivy’s innocent question, the hopeful look in her eyes and the hairbrush and ties in her tiny hand she’d seemingly pulled from nowhere. Her wrist throbs in its cast, almost mocking her as the pain reminds her she can’t do this for her little girl. 

“I’m sorry sweet girl but my arm is hurt, remember?” She says, lifting her arm from the cushion she was resting it on, “I can’t braid your hair for you.” 

Ivy looks crestfallen as she sinks back into the couch, her lower lip close to trembling, and Emily feels awful. Guilt that she hadn’t realised existed before she became a parent flooding her veins, a voice in her head that sounded suspiciously like her mother that she was letting her daughter down. She wants nothing more than to do this for Ivy, to do something she’d done since her hair was long enough to braid, but she knows it will only make her arm hurt more. She hears her husband moving around in the kitchen and she has an idea. 

“Why doesn’t Daddy do it?” She asks, smiling as Ivy looks confused, her nose scrunching up. 

“But Daddy’s a boy.” 

Emily laughs and pushes some of the little girl's hair behind her ear, “I know he is, but you know what else Daddy is?” She asks, waiting for Ivy’s response which is a shake of her head, “He is very good at following instructions, especially from me. So I can sit here with Hazel and tell him what to do with your hair. He can even practise on me,” she offers, and then she tickles Hazel, the little girl giggling as she leans in closer to her mother’s side, “And Hazel if he needs to.”

Ivy’s eyes go wide and she nods enthusiastically, “Yes, Daddy do it.” 

Emily winks at her and turns to call over her shoulder, placing her hand over Hazel’s ear, the toddler’s other ear pressed into her mother’s shoulder “Aaron?” 

She has to suppress a laugh at the sound of clattering pans in the kitchen followed by the sound of her husband’s hurried footsteps. 

He’s slightly out of breath when he makes it to the living room, a slight frown on his face as he looks at her and their daughters, all lined up on the couch and looking at him expectantly. He makes a mental note to talk to her later about the tone of her voice when she calls for him, the urgency in it making him worry something was wrong when it clearly wasn’t. 

“Everything ok, sweetheart?” 

The matching smiles he gets from all three of them are enough for him to know he’s going to have an interesting evening. 

-x-

Tag list:

@ssa-sparks, @lukeclvez, @lyds102, @glockleveledatyourcrotch, @hotchnissenthusiast, @danadeservesadrink, @ssamorganhotchner, @emilyprentissisgod, @notagentprentiss, @thecharmingart, @paulitalblond, @hancydrewfan, @camille093, @whitecrossgirl, @moonlight-2-6, @rawr-jess, @florenceremingtonthethird, @jareauswife, @ms-black-a, @beebeelank, @aubreyprc, @zipzapboingg, @psychopath-at-heart, @criminalmindsgonewrong, @fionaloover, @kinqslcys, @prentissinred, @ccmattis-22, @denvivale317, @thrindis, @hotchsguccitie, @cmfouatslota77, @alexblakegf, @aliensaurusrex, @prentissxhotch, @emobabeyy, @victoiregranger, @stormyweatherth, @wanderingdreamer009, @ssablackbird, @luhwithah, @lex13cm, @prentiss-theorem, @dont-emily-me, @mrs-ssa-hotch, @jocyycreation, @itsmytimetoodream, @hotchnissgroupie, @controversialpooh, @capsshinyshield, @canuck-eh

Join my tag list here!

[pupyr0arz]

Ghostcest (OG Ghost/Modern Ghost) snippet because the idea is eating me up and roachghost needs time to cook properly

..

His cock is pressed against the wet slit in Simon’s body, it’s so alien yet familiar to him in some crass way, Simon’s cunt is as slick and pretty as any woman Ghost has managed to coax out of a bar and into anywhere comfortable enough to take apart. It’s probably fucked up how his urge here is of utter fascination with his mirror, the urge to press him open and look at every tiny misshapen part. Me, me, me, me it’s a tiny voice screaming at the top of its lungs in fascination—in delight. Ghost can’t steady his breathing, watching the glistening wet he’s leaving on Simon’s thighs. It’s been too long, it always is when he indulges, like some dam breaks thriugh when he’s finally in bed andmp he realizes how much he’s been craving this. He feels rabid almost, insane with the way this lights him up. And Simon is goddamn big, built like a brick shithouse and the kitchen sink fucked and had some roided up baby.  Ghost is perched on top like a cherry on this shitshow sundae and it goes directly to his dick how this guy who could probably snap him in half and suck out his marrow is letting him crawl all over dick in hand and panting. He feels nauseous with it, how it’s drilling into his head louder than any headache and it makes his hands clench and shake. And it isn’t weird, it fucking isn’t weird, even if they look so different it’s just an aid like how the shitty makeup and blinding lights of porn isn’t real. 

Masturbation. It counts.

“(Complaint.)” Simon says, eyeing him with those deep brown and Christ almighty his fucking voice. Ghost can practically hear it in his bones, vibrations out from his fingertips and on a one way express train to his cock. 

Yeah, yeah he should get on with it before he embrwsses himself.

——

Simon is still wearing gloves when he trails his fingers across Ghost’s shoulders and he appreciates the other layer of distance between them. He clearly wants to ask about the mask, Ghost is mildly curious too since Simon’s seemed to have stuck to his baklava, but the question lays in the air like the sour meat it is and they leave it to rot where it belongs.

Of all people, Ghost thinks, the two of them should understand dear doesn’t mean dead. But it’s a mild comfort and he wants to get off tonight so he leaves the grave unattended.

Aka ghostcest 2009/2022 fuck and it’s fucked up. Trans 2022, mega fucked up cis 2009. Bc I love the ‘the cartel top surgery’s him’ meme that much. Both Ghosts call the other Simon and they both hate it. 09 is delusional and developing complexes as we speak and 22 is slightly more normal about sex but is also contemplating killing his double bc he’s a freak like that. Separate them

[uniquezombiedestiny]

sorry for not drawing i have insomnia anyway . whump about ceasing to physically exist and only being like a disembodied pov. how to cope and not cope. the horrors

also i like weird houses you get trapped in :3

holy shit thats banging.

sun time because shes a narrator-type to me. i could see this being her way of escaping unreality, 'ascending' it

and dw youre good!! o7

---

eventually, she is near-entirely wires and machinery. she is the human and the machine, a heart connected to both vessels and metal.

when she finally escapes, connected to l. corp's plethora of machinery, she finds that she is now neither. she is the camera feed, the electricity, the sound system. but she is not a body; she is not in control anymore. he is left alone with his thoughts, watching the agents come and go. maybe she even sees her "friends" again.

but she cannot reach them. no hands to move, no head to turn, no mouth to speak with. but this is only a single step, no? there's a way out of here, even if she has to wait through 50 days and 50 nights.

she tries connecting to a computer. access denied.

qliphoth deterrence? how's morse code? nope.

she switches her camera feed 10 times in the blink of an eye. nothing. no way free (yet).

hundreds of hours. thousands of minutes, some longer than others, but all eventually dull. she's just waiting and waiting. even the suppressions don't lift her spirits, at one point. but maybe if little red could slice this camera... nope. better luck next time, right?

...

the second warning vibrates through her speakers again. she finds disciplnary near-instantly. her reflexes got better, she notices.

this is all routine, by now. she bets on how long it'll take to take this one home - or maybe mental corruption levels. he's practically an expert on noticing the signs. hm, how about--

hod's voice interrupts her - the frequenices go by her before she "hears" a thing.

"manager, mason has died. i-i saw his desperate expression..."

the real words slip by her.

the rooms blink by. she checks some departments twice in her haste. training, hallway 2, camera A.

it's immediate and it's obvious. viscera, brain matter, organs. faint aroma is scattered everywhere. the wings are broken and splintered. muscles are torn, bones are split in two, people are screaming.

the massacre plays through the camera feed in excruciatingly long seconds. maybe it was her who caused the breach announcement to fail. they flail and scramble like fish out of water, those people.

there's an empty gap in training the next day. as much as she claws and screams, there is no effect. the minutes pass just the same.

she is not heard. her voice echoes into the empty space. she ran in a circle, and worst of all, it means nothing. she has spent so many days running that the ground it's on doesn't mater.

nothing lost, nothing gained.

a machine behaves as a machine. nothing more, nothing less.

[toonblabbers]

Balls to the Walls Random Headcanons

A/N: Just trying to flex and expand my writing with other characters: Ace Edition - Ushijima, Iwaizumi, Aran, Hoshiumi, Asahi, Yamamoto and Sakusa!

I didn’t write about my big sexy himbo Bokuto because my blog is like almost 90% him

This contains some mentions to smut so hey: minors DNI! Thanks!

 Ushijima:

Service top with a dash of Dom. Got a big cock but he doesn’t know what to do with it so please help him out.

Had one (1) partner before you and they told him he can be too rough so now he’s the literal definition of Gentle Giant. Again tell him what to do and how you like it

He on the other hand…Well he’s got a hard body from years of strength and endurance training. He has very specific spots where he’s super sensitive, but he’s easily embarrassed about them

One spot is right behind his earlobe. Sit in his lap, pinch his ear and gently rub it between your fingers. The sight of Ushi’s eyes fluttering closed as his breathing picks up is truly a sight to behold

Another spot is his wrist; stare him in the eyes and kiss his wrist before a match to have his knees quake a little and shorts feel a little tighter

Actually loves to discover new kinks with you. He finds it more romantic than having a quiet dinner with you in an expensive restaurant

Can be a big ole needy baby during the off season of volleyball. Tugging on your shirt when you leave the bed, follows you into the bathroom, stands behind you in the kitchen or when you’re doing laundry. He’s not vocal with his words but more with his body

Don’t tease him though; it’s still a very new feeling for him to express

 Iwaizumi

Hates fighting with you but loves to pull you close and soothe you with a hot kiss

Has big Dom Daddy energy, but there are a few ways to make him start to crumble under you touch

If you use any piece of clothing to pull him in closer to you like his collar, his tie when he wears one, or his belt. Lean in like your gonna kiss him, stare at his lips then his eyes and then just walk away like nothing happened. You bet your sweet ass he’s gonna follow you to get that kiss

Another way that he refuses to admit he likes: play with his nipples. He’s got some fairly big and dark nipples compared to his friends and they get hard easily. Brush your fingers over them when you lean in to kiss and he’s got diamonds poking through his polo shirt

One way that he will admit is ass play. Now he’s not ready to full on take a cock in his ass, but things like your fingers, anal beads, or a vibrator? Makes him practically cum on the spot

Loves it when you get rough on him. Not like in a “I’m gonna slap you” kind of way but in the “grab him by the hair and demand he fucks you properly when he’s taking it too slow” kind of way

His cock pulsing hard inside of you and his eyes dilating is a dead giveaway of how much he loves it

 Aran

Admittedly, he doesn’t have a monster dong (sorry not sorry, not all fucking black guys have a big cock so stop fetishing it thanks – from a black woman) but it does have a nice curve to it

He’s a disgusting romantic so full on he will bust out the candles, the rose petals, and the silk robe waiting on the bed for you. He saw it in a movie once as a kid and wanted to try it ever since

He so cute though because since he is a big romantic, he’s always cooking you breakfast and singing a little song in the morning for you. He even does a little dance while carrying the tray off food just to see you smile in the morning

He’s also such a soft Dom dude. Admittedly a little scared to try an bottom for you but man does he make you feel loved when he’s in between your legs

Loves to hold your hands or hold you close when he cums. Wants you to feel how his whole body shudders because of how good you make him feel

Big ole cuddle bug so it’s best to have some towels and water bottles by the bed cause neither of you are moving unless he says so

He’s a man a of quality and not quantity, so yeah you guys only go one round of sex cause he’s bone tired after he cums. That doesn’t mean he can’t make you cum multiple times though

Hoshiumi

 A short King. We stan (I’m 5’9 so he’s short to me)

He is a meeeeessy boi dude like if ya’ll in a hurry to fuck, he’ll quickly slobber all over you and use as much spit as he needs to slide home. Loves how tight you are, but he’s careful enough to make sure it doesn’t hurt you…..too much

Loves. To. Fuck. You. Both. Dumb.

Did you just cum? Well he’s not stopping until he cums. Did he just cum? Well he’s not stopping until you cum. Wants to keep it equal

Please sit on his face. He loves it. And if you play with his balls like rolling them in your hands and squeezing them? He’s whining and panting while eating you out like a mad man

He adores it when you play with his hair when you’re cuddling. Just don’t be surprised if he starts humping against you. It just feels so good

He’s very competitive so god help you if you’re with his friends and they start talking about their sex stories.

If there’s a friend there (Hinata) that talks about the kind of kinks they do with their partner and it’s something you guys haven’t tried before? Guess what’s on the list tonight

 Asahi

God just hold him. He needs it. Another one that's is a great service top for someone who loves to lead from the bottom (me @ me)

Not the biggest set in the world but he's got passion so sex is almost always soft and sweet

He's still hot in his own ways like the way his deep grunts start to turn into softest and sweetest moans

Or the way he stares at you; eyes swirling between lust and loves with tears threatening to spill

Please don't be mean to him unless he asks. It's evident that he holds a lot of insecurities and he's trying his best for you. Love and dote on him because his aftercare is top tier

Even if you guys don't do anything special or crazy. Just some straight vanilla sex, he always makes sure that you're comfortable before you go to bed

Also he helps you establish a nightly routine with him so what's not to love about that?

Yamamoto

SIMP ALERT. Be ready for one of the LOUDEST simps out there. 

I'm talking a bigger simp than all the setters for Hinata or all the captains for Daichi

You can fit so much passion and respecting people juice into this boy right here

I don't see him being a wild boy but if you're into it then so is he. Want him to spank you? He's gonna ask how hard baby.

However if you want to do something that he seems a bit hesitant on, he’s gonna try to be overconfident with everything. Make sure you talk to him and make sure you have a solid agreement with with him. Communication is key with him!

He's a little sloppy and lazy with his aftercare but you know what, it's always fun with him

I don't know much about him but he gives off that vibe of a man that runs on pure fiery passion and motivation. Like if he’s feeling like loving on you tonight? Be ready to not do a damn thing cause youre gonna be his precious pillow gem (idk if there's a gn term for ‘pillow princess’)

Sakusa

Ooof. Where do I begin with this beautiful man. Pretty body with a pretty cock to match for starts

He’s sexy man but he has these cute little moles all over his body. He personally doesn’t like them but please kiss each one even the one on his butt. He may not voice it but he loves it so much

He will gladly do the same for you; kissing you every part of your body that you may not like about yourself.

Doesn’t have a high sex drive, but when he’s in the mood, damn you better clear your plans. He believes in both quantity AND quality so you will be thoroughly fucked out when he’s done with you

I see him as the kind of dom that goes for the kind of pleasure that benefits you both. Not a selfish lover but also not an absolute giver like the others

Yeah there are nights where he wants to treat you but others nights he’s gonna make you work for it

Tagging: @hiddenbluee, @kou-taro, @justcoffeewithoutcaffeine​

[nerdzzone]

-More Hearts Than Mine-

Summary: Raising a child is hard. Raising a child with one of Hollywood’s biggest stars is even harder. And raising a child with one of Hollywood’s biggest stars who you’re not actually in a relationship with is even harder still.

Especially when a global pandemic is sweeping the world.

With lockdowns and stay at home orders looming on the horizon, the uncertainty of their situation becomes almost too much for Whitney Taylor to handle. Chris suggests that they quarantine together to avoid any potential separations but, given what happened the last time they spent more than a few brief moments in each other’s company, that could cause more problems than it solves…

Chris Evans x OFC

Sequel to: Once Bitten - Twice Shy

Note: Again, just a reminder that all the information I have about covid restrictions in Massachusetts is from google, not first hand experience, so if something seems wrong please just go with it.

Part Three

______

Part Four

If avoiding difficult conversations was an Olympic sport then it's pretty safe to say that I would have earned myself a gold medal by the end of the following week. It wasn't all that hard to do though as the exhaustion from parenting during a pandemic was hitting us both. Especially because the weather for the first couple of weeks of April was abysmal. It was cold, stormy and raining almost every day and we were all getting quite stir crazy from being inside constantly - especially our lively and spirited child.

So, it was a massive relief when the sun finally came out.

It was also a relief that it lined up with Grayson's third birthday.

He was going to have a very different birthday than previous years - as most people would over the next few months - but we wanted him to have fun and he was quickly tiring of all the indoor activities that we could come up with.

We set the living room up the night before after he'd gone to bed, putting up a birthday banner with several clusters of balloons, and there was quite the mountain of presents in the corner as most of our family members had sent their gifts in advance. I had hoped to wake up before him, but when I woke up to excited cheers and Dodger barking from downstairs, I knew I was too late. A quick glance at my phone told me that it was only six thirty, but clearly the excitement had gotten him up earlier than normal.

"Whoa, Dodger, Grayson, shhhh," I heard Chris warn the pair of them, his voice still raspy from sleep. "You'll wake up the whole neighbourhood."

I smiled and quickly climbed out of bed. Chris wouldn't let him open any presents without me, I knew that, but I didn't want to keep him waiting for too long.

When I got downstairs, a very excited Grayson was bouncing on the couch as Chris sat next to him, watching him closely with a smile on his face.

"Happy birthday!" I cheered, catching his attention.

He sprang off the couch and bolted towards me.

"Thanks, Mama," He shouted, throwing his arms around my legs and looking up at me. "I'm three!"

"You are!" I smiled as I knelt down in front of him and pulled him into a hug. "You're such a big boy now."

He let me squeeze him for another moment or two before wiggling free.

"Can I open presents?"

Chris laughed at his clear priorities, shaking his head as I stood up.

"Let's just wait for Uncle Scott," he suggested before glancing up at me. "He's putting the coffee on."

"Very smart," I nodded. "I think we're all going to need plenty of that today."

Grayson proved my point by grabbing at his balloons and waving them frantically, setting Dodger off barking again.

"Dodge!" Chris scolded. "It's just a balloon, buddy. Chill."

The poor overwhelmed dog hung his head and came over to me for some sympathy. I happily obliged, cooing some comforting words and rubbing his back.

"Gray, leave the balloons, okay?" I requested. "I don't think Dodger likes them."

Grayson frowned, but instantly let go of the balloon in his hand.

"Sorry, Dodger."

"It sounds like we have quite the party in here already," Scott commented as he sauntered into the room. "Shall we see what's in some of these boxes?"

"Yes! Yes!" Grayson cheered, running over to the presents. "What first?"

"Whatever you want," I told him, smiling as I went to sit on the couch next to Chris. "Do you need some help?"

"No, I can do it!" He insisted, making a bee line for the biggest box and quickly ripping the paper off.

We watched as he opened gift after gift, an ear to ear grin on his face the whole time. Just as he was at Christmas, he was incredibly grateful for every present from the Paw Patrol Lookout Tower that was almost as tall as he was to the dinosaur books that were more educational than flashy and fun.

But there was one gift at the bottom of the pile that Chris wasn't particularly impressed by. The one that my brother had sent.

Grayson opened it, pulling out a t-shirt first.

"What does it say?" He asked, holding up the shirt towards us.

Chris' jaw dropped as I stifled my giggles and Scott burst out laughing.

"It says 'Team Iron Man'," I read. "Remember how Uncle Rob was in a movie with Daddy where they had a big fight? Iron Man was Uncle Rob's character and I think Uncle Jack wants you to be on that team."

"Oh," Grayson smiled. "Okay!"

"Okay?!" Chris protested. "You don't want to be on my team?"

Grayson shrugged as he pulled something else out of the box from my brother.

"Look!" He shouted, his excitement clear as he held up a very fancy electronic Iron Man helmet. "I love it!"

I wasn't even sure that he knew what it was as he hadn't seen any of the movies yet, but his enthusiasm compared to Chris' displeasure was killing Scott and I.

"Oh, it's such a shame that your brother wasted his money," Chris said, his words dripping with sarcasm as he had a forced look of pity on his face. "Those things are expensive and Grayson is never going to wear it."

"I'll wear it!"

Grayson's insistence was followed by him putting the helmet on his head and another howl of laughter came from Scott as a look of betrayal crossed Chris' face.

"Your brother is a jerk."

His words were quiet so Grayson wouldn't hear and I smiled.

"What can I say?" I shrugged. "We're an Iron Man family..."

Chris shot me a glare, but turned his attention back to Gray.

"Well, if you don't want to be on my team then I guess I'll just have to find someone else to have the last present that I got for you..."

Chris was teasing, but Grayson whipped off the helmet faster than we could blink. He looked around, a puzzled expression on his face when he couldn't see anymore boxes on the floor and I shared his confusion as I wasn't aware of anymore gifts either. But the Evans brothers exchanged a knowing glance and I knew they were up to something.

"Maybe Miles would like it," Scott suggested. "He loves Captain America."

"Me too!" Grayson insisted, tossing the helmet aside as if it hadn't been his new prized possession moments ago. "He's my favourite!"

"Oh, is he now?" Chris laughed. "Doesn't take much to make you change your mind, does it?"

Grayson shook his head, oblivious to the fact that he was being teased, but Chris didn't torture him for too long.

"Alright, do you want to see what it is?"

"Yes, I do!"

Grayson leapt up, bouncing up and down with excitement, making Chris laugh as he stood up from the couch.

"C'mon then," he told Grayson, nodding his head towards the door. "It's this way."

Grayson scurried after his dad and I followed, my own curiosity piqued as well.

"What is it?" I asked Scott, but he just shot me a smirk.

"You'll see in a second."

I narrowed my eyes at his secrets and paused at the front door where Chris was waiting for us, his hand on the door knob as Grayson practically vibrated with excitement.

"Okay, close your eyes," Chris instructed. "No peeking!"

"I won't, I won't!"

Grayson covered his eyes as an extra assurance and Chris' grin widened even more as he swung open the door. I put my hands on Grayson's shoulders and guided him through it, seeing a shiny blue bike with a big bow on the handlebars. I felt a flash of worry at all the potential ways for Grayson to get hurt riding it, but there was no time to dwell on that as Chris told him to open his eyes and he gasped with excitement.

"A bike!" He squealed with joy, leaping off the doorstep and running towards it.

He circled it for a moment as if he was really trying to take it all in while I looked up at Chris.

"There better be a helmet with this present," I warned him. "I'm already imagining broken bones and missing teeth."

"He'll be fine," Chris assured me with a chuckle. "It has training wheels, but of course I got him a helmet."

I opened my mouth, ready to share some more potential disasters that could come from this - because even with training wheels he could still fall off or lose control and crash into a tree - but Grayson cut me off.

"Help me, Daddy! Help me!"

He was trying to climb onto the seat, but as I took in the sight of him barefoot in his pyjamas standing in the driveway, I stopped Chris as he moved towards him.

"Wait, why don't we have breakfast first?" I suggested. "We have all day to play on your bike, but you're not dressed or even wearing shoes..."

Grayson's face fell and I felt bad being the mean parent, but Chris nodded in agreement.

"Your Ma's right, Gray," he told him. "Let's go get ready and then we can come right back outside, okay?"

Grayson looked sulky, but reluctantly agreed as he walked back over to us.

"Hey now," Scott said, catching his attention. "No pouting on your birthday! We've got some chocolate chip pancakes to make! Unless that sad face means you don't want them anymore?"

His previous smile slid instantly back onto his face at the promise of such a sugary breakfast and the pep returned to his step as he grabbed Scott's hand before dragging him into the house.

-

I had no evidence to prove my theory, but by the time breakfast was over, I was almost certain that it would have been more relaxing to be in the middle of a hurricane. There was pancake batter all over the room and we practically had to pin Grayson to his chair to stop him from sprinting around the room with food in his mouth. It was a miracle that he got through the meal without choking.

It was impossible to be mad though when he was having such a good time. He'd had so much to adjust to lately, seeing him happy on his birthday was all that I wanted and I was willing to put up with a little more chaos than normal if it made that happen. Within reason, of course. I did stop him when he suggested that we put the entire bag of chocolate chips in the pancake batter and I did make him help me clean them up when he dumped them on the floor in protest of my ridiculous restrictions.

Once the breakfast circus was over, Chris whisked him off to get him ready to play outside while I helped Scott clean up the kitchen before going upstairs to shower and get ready myself.

When I came back down almost an hour later, I felt considerably less frazzled, but the sound of excited squeals and giggles echoing from outside told me the energy levels hadn't died down much. It really was a relief that he was having such a nice day though so I braced myself for more chaos and headed out to find them.

The sight that greeted me melted my heart completely.

Chris was running backwards across the driveway as Grayson rode towards him. He shouted encouragement the entire time, reminding him to keep pedaling and to look where he was going and cheering as Grayson rode past him before turning around and circling back.

"Look, Mama!" He shouted to me as he spotted me by the door. "I'm doing it!"

"You are, baby!" I smiled. "Good job!"

I sat on the doorstep and watched him ride in circles, proud of how fast he'd figured it out, but after a few moments, my attention turned to Chris.

There were few times since I'd known him when I'd seen him look as happy as he did in that moment. When Grayson was born, when he took his first steps and when he first said 'Dada' were probably the only comparable moments I could think of. He looked absolutely gleeful as he chased after Grayson, laughing as he passed him before dodging a different way and waiting for Gray to catch up before bolting off again. The sound of their giggles and shouts filled my heart so much that it genuinely felt like it was about to burst out of my chest and a feeling of contentedness hit me so hard that it almost knocked over.

It was a feeling that told me that they were all I ever needed. Those two boys, making each other dizzy as they ran in circles. Their happiness and love was all I could ever hope to have and moments like these were all I ever wanted to see. I wanted us to spend every weekend soaking in this kind of joy. I didn't want to fight and argue and transport Grayson back and forth every other week. I wanted to give Grayson what he deserved, I wanted us to be a family.

But as fast as that clarity hit me, the knots in my stomach were there to remind me that it wasn't just about what I wanted. It wasn't about what would bring us the most moments of delight, it was about what would provide Grayson with the most stability and being a family might do more harm to that goal than good.

It was a constant battle between my heart and my head, but I was starting to realize that my head was losing. I was clinging to my resistance with all I had, but it was slipping away. I knew I needed to talk to Chris, to sort out the fog in my brain, but for the time being, I pushed it out of my mind. This was Grayson's day and we didn't have time for anymore heart-wrenching conversations.

I was snapped out of my thoughts as Scott appeared from the side of the house on roller blades and the unexpected sight pulled a laugh from my lips as he sailed past Chris and Grayson and headed down the driveway.

"Gray, follow me!"

Gray nodded, frantically pedaling to catch up with his uncle as they sped off down the long drive. Chris watched them for a minute before jogging over to me.

"He got it so fast," he puffed as he fought to catch his breath. "He's a natural."

"The training wheels help," I pointed out, shielding my eyes from the sun as I looked up at him. "But it's fine because he'll be keeping those on until he's at least eighteen."

Chris barked out a laugh, shaking his head.

"No way," he smirked. "We'll have them off by next week."

"Not a chance. I need at least six months to get used to that idea."

"How about we meet in the middle and aim for three?"

"Hmm, maybe," I bit back a smile. "We'll have to see how many injuries he gets with the training wheels on first."

"He'll be fine. He's a champ," Chris grinned proudly. "We've got a pretty great kid."

"We do," I patted the step next to me as I made room for Chris to sit down. "I can't believe he's already three."

Chris accepted my silent invitation and sat down next to me.

"I know," he sighed. "It feels like just yesterday that he was born..."

"He was so tiny," I reminisced. "And you had those huge Captain America muscles."

Chris laughed as he nodded at the memory.

"I was so scared to hold him in case I accidentally crushed him."

"I was so scared of everything," I admitted. "It wasn't until he was actually born that it really hit me that we were completely responsible for his well-being and keeping him alive."

"We've done well with that though!"

"We have," I agreed with a smile. "He's alive and thriving."

"We make a good team."

He flashed me a warm smile that made my heart beat stutter and it almost stopped completely when he stretched out a hand and placed it on mine. His touch was gentle and the warmth of his skin flooded through me even more than the sun streaming down on us. It was a simple gesture, but it eased the heaviness that had been hovering between us lately and I was grateful. I carefully flipped my hand over so our palms pressed together and let our fingers interlace. His smile widened as he looked back out at the driveway, his eyes settling on Grayson in the distance who was laughing at something Scott said.

"Thank you," Chris sighed, his voice quiet and filled with genuine appreciation. "I don't think I've ever said it, but thank you for making me a dad."

His words almost brought tears to my eyes, but I shook my head.

"Chris, you don't need to than-"

"I do," he insisted, cutting me off. "He's the best thing that ever happened to me and he wouldn't be here without you."

"I could say the same," I pointed out, trying to ignore the way his thumb was stroking the back of my hand. "He gets most of his good traits from you too. His kind heart, his sensitive little soul, his loyalty."

"His infuriating stubbornness."

"He gets that from both of us," I smiled. "He didn't stand a chance with that one."

"Well, I hope he gets some of your selflessness," Chris informed me, glancing over and looking a tad sheepish. "Because, as much as I disagree with it and I wish you'd be a little selfish, I get that you're trying to look out for him."

I felt my palms start to sweat and I wondered if he could feel it. I resisted the urge to snatch my hand away from his, trying to play it cooler than I felt. He was watching me closely as I mulled over his words until I found the strength to speak.

"I'm not so sure that it's just him that I'm trying to look out for," I admitted, exhaling a breath that I didn't realize I was holding.  "I do think we have more to talk about, Chris, but I don't think this is the right time."

"You're right," he nodded. "I just felt like I owed you an apology after the other night. I let my feelings get the best of me and I came across a little harsh."

I was about to reassure him that he hadn't when the sound of honking interrupted our conversation. Our attention was pulled to the end of the driveway where two cars - belonging to Chris' mom and his sister - were pulling in as Scott moved Grayson and Dodger off to the side to let them past.

"Did you know they were coming?" I asked, surprised by the little motorcade.

"Nah, I had no idea," Chris shrugged. "We'll stay outside though, keep our distance."

I wasn't worried about that really, I knew all of Chris' family were staying very isolated and being smart about staying safe and we were technically allowed to have outdoor gatherings of up to ten people anyway with the current rules in place. I was surprised to see them though as we'd warned Grayson that he would only get to see most of his family over FaceTime. His excitement at that being untrue was clear as he frantically pedaled back up the driveway to greet his guests.

"Mama! Daddy! Look!"

I let Chris' hand fall away from mine as we stood, smiling at Grayson's excitement as everyone started getting out of their cars. They burst into a rousing chorus of 'Happy Birthday' making Gray's grin grow even more.

"Happy birthday, Grayson!" Lisa beamed as Grayson ran towards her full speed. He threw his arms around her legs before we could even remind him to keep his distance, but Lisa seemed unbothered by it. "Have you had a good day so far?"

"Yes!" Gray smiled up at her. "I got a bike!"

"I saw that!" Lisa matched his enthusiasm. "You're a lucky boy!"

Grayson shot her another smile before turning his attention to his cousins.

"Wanna try?"

His older cousins were probably too big, but Stella's hand shot up first and beat them to it anyway.

"That's really nice of you to share," I called over to Grayson. "But share your helmet too, okay?"

He nodded and struggled with the clip for a few minutes before Lisa helped him take it off and placed it on her granddaughter's head.

Once they were all happy, chasing Stella and Dodger around the drive way, the adults moved over towards us. Lisa was the first to speak, a guilty look on her face.

"I hope you don't mind us just showing up like this, but we couldn't stay away on his birthday..."

"It's great!" Chris assured her. "Don't worry about it."

"And Grayson seems thrilled," I added. "It's nice for him to have other kids to run around with for a bit."

We all turned to watch them as they played until Carly let out a laugh.

"Are Grayson's shoes on the wrong feet?"

I hadn't even noticed, but I laughed as well when I realized that she was right.

"Some days just getting him in shoes at all is a victory," Chris defended himself. "And today was one of those days."

"He's like the energizer bunny this morning," Scott joked. "I can't imagine what he'll be like after we get some cake into him."

"Just think how well he'll sleep tonight," Carly pointed out. "He has to crash eventually."

"I hope so," Chris smiled. "He had me up at six o'clock this morning, I need an early night."

That earned a laugh from the group as his siblings teased him about being such an old man, but I felt a pang of sympathy for him, knowing that he'd been up early with Grayson a lot lately. Maybe it was because we were at his house so it was what Gray was used to, but Chris was definitely the favourite for the early morning wake up call.

We stood in our little circle for a while, just catching up as we watched the kids, all of us enjoying conversation with someone other than the people we were locked up with twenty-four hours a day. It was nice for me to have some female company as well even though Lisa was very pleased to hear that her boys were pulling their weight around the house and not just treating me like some kind of live-in maid.

It didn't take long for the kids to get tired of sharing the bike, especially the older boys who were too big for it anyway, and soon they were swarming around us demanding that we all play a game. After being cooped up for so long, it didn't seem like a bad idea to get us all moving around a little so we agreed and set about the daunting task of finding something everyone was willing to play.

Eventually, we settled on capture the flag - girls against boys. Lisa decided she'd make a better referee than a player so the boys team had one extra member, but they had three children to our one so it hardly seemed like the extra person would cause any unbalance. 

The rules of the game were simple: each team had three flags in our 'end zone' at opposite ends of the large grassy part of Chris' yard and the other team had to try to steal those flags. We had to grab it and run it all the way back to our own end zone to score a point, but once it was safely 'captured' it couldn't be stolen back. If someone managed to snatch a flag, but was tagged on their way back to their end zone then they had to give the flag back.

Lisa was very firm in reminding her children that tackling was not allowed as the Evans siblings were fiercely competitive and it had apparently led to trouble over the years. Once the rules were all set, we took our places and started the game.

The teams were fairly evenly matched. The boys had more strength, but we had more agility and were much better at communicating and working together which led to us easily scoring the first point. While Stella distracted Scott, Carly snuck past him to snatch the flag and she tossed it to Shanna who faked a pass to Stella before throwing it to me to get it to the safe zone. It was a beautifully executed play that showed the boys we weren't messing around.

"Oh, it's on now," Chris called out as he sprinted past me.

Shanna bolted after him, but he managed to grab the flag and throw it to Ethan before she caught up. With all the other boys guarding him, he made it all the way back to their end zone without getting tagged.

"I think having a super soldier on your team is an unfair advantage ," Carly huffed, but Chris shook his head with a smirk.

"Nah, because we have Scott too so it balances out."

"Hey!" Scott protested. "I'll switch teams if you're going to be rude!"

Stella jumped for joy at that idea, pleading with him to come onto our side, but the rest of the boys voiced their protests and he decided that, as long as there was no more hurtful comments, he would stick to his team for now. I used their bickering as a distraction though as I snuck closer towards their unguarded flags. I managed to grab one before Scott noticed and called out a warning to the rest of his team, but when I took off running and Grayson charged towards me, I didn't have the heart to out run him on his special day. I slowed down enough that he wouldn't realize I was letting him win and groaned dramatically as he tagged me, making me give up the flag.

"I did it!" He cheered. "Daddy! Did you see? I did it!"

Stella had a disappointed scowl on her face, but everyone else was understanding as they watched Chris scoop him up onto his shoulders, chanting his name as if he'd just won the World Cup while he carried him back to replace the flag.

Their celebration was short-lived though as we managed to steal the flag again almost as soon as Chris and Grayson were far enough away from it. After another perfectly executed play, the score was sitting at 2-1 for us. The pressure was on after that as we only needed one more point to win, it ramped up the competitive spirit.

We were off to a great start in the next round. Shanna got the flag quickly, but Scott had her cornered almost immediately so she tossed it to me. I got about ten steps before Chris was on my heels and I was forced to throw it over to Carly. Chris turned and went to chase after her instead and without even thinking, I leapt on his back to stop him.

"Hey!" He protested, slowing to a stop despite how he was clearly unaffected by my weight. "Is anyone seeing this? This has got to be a foul! She tackled me!"

"I did not tackle you!" I insisted, clinging to his shoulders with my legs wrapped around his waist. "If it was a tackle, you'd be on the ground."

Chris wiggled around, trying to throw me off his back as Carly sauntered into our end zone with the flag.

"The only reason I'm not on the ground is because you're too weak," Chris argued before shouting to his mom. "That doesn't count!

"No, Mama," Grayson joined in, running over to us looking very disapproving. "No cheating!"

I laughed, but slid down from Chris' back.

"Sorry, I'm sorry!" I held my hands up as I apologized. "I can't outrun Captain America, I had no choice!"

"Well, now you lost the point," Chris teased me, shoving me playfully and making me stumble a step away from him. "So, lets keep it fair and stop trying to cheat."

I swatted back at him as I stuck out my tongue while Lisa made the official call that the point didn't count and Scott took the recently captured flag back to the boy's end zone.

Chris had a new twinkle in his eye as the next round started. He hadn't let me get very far away from him and I quickly realized that I'd made a mistake by antagonizing him. I would be useless to my team if he was on my tail the whole time, but he was a tank and incredibly fast so getting away from him was next to impossible. I watched helplessly as Scott and Miles easily took our flag and dashed it back to their end zone to tie the score.

"Chris!" I whined as I tried to get around him like I was a cornered puppy, trying not to get caught. "Get away from me, you big oaf!"

"Oh, wow," Chris chuckled. "Let's not start calling names and being mean."

I tried to dart past him again, but groaned as he blocked my path.

"You're infuriating!"

"It's all part of the game."

The smirk on Chris' face had my competitive side firing up as I could see behind him that Miles had snatched our last flag. Stella was hot on his heels though, so he had no choice, but to pass to Grayson who was coming our way. Was I going to stop my three year old son from scoring the game winning point on his birthday? Probably not. But I had to at least make my attempt genuine so I came up with a plan.

"Is that..." I squinted off into the distance on the other side of the yard. "Is that Dodger chasing a cat?"

My Oscar worthy performance had Chris spinning around to check out what I saw and it gave me enough time to bolt away towards Grayson who wasn't far away from winning the game for his team. I made it an impressive five steps before Chris figured out what I'd done and came after me. Grayson saw what was happening and dodged to the left so I followed, but my change of direction gave Chris an opportunity. The next thing I knew, I felt a crash against my hips before I was lifted from the ground and found myself dangling over Chris' shoulder.

I let out a squeal of surprise as I kicked my legs, trying to get down, but Chris had a tight grip on me and there was no getting away. The ease with which he threw me around wasn't at all distracting and there wasn't a single part of me that was revelling in his strength. Not at all.

"This is absolutely a tackle!" I protested, focusing my mind back onto my predicament. "Put me down!"

"If this was a tackle, you'd be on the ground," he mocked me. "This is payback."

I had a nice view, my head only inches above 'America's ass' so, swept up in the moment of playfulness between us, I reached down and gave it a smack. He yelped and jumped, shaking me as he did.

"Chris! Put me down!"

My demands were weakened by the giggles that I couldn't hold back, but thankfully Scott stepped in to help me regain some dignity.

"Alright, you two," he called over. "Can we get back to the game now or would you like us all to give you some time alone?"

A blush covered my cheeks as I remembered that his entire family was around us and was relieved when he lowered me to the ground.

"Games over," Chris called back. "Grayson scored!"

Grayson jumped up and down happily, but Stella had a scowl on her face.

"Nuh uh! When Whitney tackled you, it didn't count!" She pointed out. "Grayson's point doesn't count too!"

The joy on Grayson's face fell into a look of anger as he stomped his foot at his cousin’s claim.

"It does!" He insisted. "I did it!"

"Now look what you've done," I playfully scolded Chris quietly before shouting to the rest of the group. "I think we're going to have to let them have the point, ladies. I wouldn't have been able to catch up to Grayson even if Chris didn't cheat..."

Stella's jaw dropped in clear shock that I hadn't supported her protests, but to stop the war before it could start, Chris chimed in.

"Grayson didn't need my help to score that point, I shouldn't have interfered," he started. "But why don't we call it a game and go have some cake?!"

The promise of sugar seemed to quash any animosity between the teams as all the kids let out a shriek of approval at that suggestion and took off running back to the house.

"Oh, yes," Carly sighed. "Because what my children clearly need right now is more energy..."

"It's Gray's birthday," Chris shrugged with a smile as we all followed the children at a much more reasonable pace. "We have to have cake!"

"And if it wasn't his birthday then I wouldn't have let you win."

My taunting earned a bark of laughter from Chris.

"Let us win? Yeah, sure, okay. You just keep telling yourself that you're faster and stronger than me," he teased. "Whatever makes you feel better."

I shoved him, but he was braced for it and I ended up more affected by the impact than him which proved his point, putting a smirk on his face.

"Asshole," I muttered as I shook my head, but I couldn't hold back a smile at how nice our affectionate teasing felt.

-

By the end of the day, we were all exhausted. It had been a fun and very special day for Grayson so we were thrilled for him, but exhausted nonetheless. Gray fought his bedtime with all the will power he had, eager for the day to go on just a little bit longer, but we won out in the end and he made it to bed on time. Scott had gone to his own room while we were fighting with him and Chris and I parted ways shortly after to get some much needed quiet time of our own.

I found myself distracted though, when I was finally alone, as the importance of the day had me feeling sentimental. Watching Grayson grow up and hit these milestones was a joy, but it left me feeling a bit reminiscent of the years gone by. Years when he was even smaller than he was now, just starting to figure out the world and how to speak, walk and be a part of it. The time was really flying by and as I began to scroll through old videos of his first year of life, the nostalgia was almost too much to bear.

Eventually, I stumbled on a video that had distinct parallels of today.

It was a video of Grayson's first birthday when we'd given him his own little cake and let him go to town on it. Of course, as many babies do, he'd stared at it for a moment before smashing his face directly into it. It was adorable and tugged on my heart strings considering how comparatively neat his cake consumption was earlier that day. He'd grown so much in such a short time and I felt compelled to share my discovery with Chris so I dragged myself out of bed and crept down to his room.

There was a fluttering of nerves in my stomach as I knocked on his bedroom door, the feeling only growing as he called out an invitation to come inside. I did as he'd asked and let myself in, finding him leaning back against the headboard of his bed - wearing nothing but his pajama pants - with his own phone in his hand.

"Hey," he smiled. "What's up?"

"I found a video," I told him, standing awkwardly near the foot of his bed. "I was feeling a little sad about how fast Gray is growing up so I was looking back, watching old videos and I found one that I thought you might like to see."

Chris’ smile widened and he eagerly patted the bed next to him, encouraging me to sit. I took him up on his offer and settled in as I unlocked my phone and started the video.

"He was so little..."

Chris' observation came as the camera settled on Gray where he sat in his high chair. Chris was right next to him, a grin on his face as he chatted happily to our son despite the nonsense babble that he got in response. I appeared on the screen after a few moments, carrying a tiny cake as everyone started to sing Happy Birthday. Grayson had a look of confusion on his face as he looked around at the crowd, but his eyes widened when the cake was placed in front of him.

"Go on, Gray," I prompted once the singing had stopped. "You can taste it."

He needed no more encouragement and simply face planted right into it, popping up a moment later with blue icing from the tops of his eyebrows to the bottom of his chin. He had a huge, cheeky grin on his face as he looked at us and, just as he did in the video, Chris laughed next to me.

"Oh, man, it kills you, doesn't it?" He questioned before clarifying. "How cute he is."

I hadn't realized that Chris' arm had found its way behind me when he leaned in to watch until I felt his breath on my hair as he spoke and I couldn't resist leaning back, tucking myself under his shoulder. The whole day, the knowledge that my baby was growing up, had me needing some comfort. It was exciting, to see him learn and shift from a baby to a little person, but at the same time, I felt the overwhelming urge for time to stop.

"It does," I agreed, letting my phone fall to the bed beside me. "I can't believe how much he's changed since then."

"In some ways," Chris agreed, looking down at me with a smirk. "In others, he's still that goofy, reckless baby."

"If he's anything like you, he'll probably never grow out of being goofy and reckless."

I felt Chris' shoulders shake as he chuckled at my teasing and I was reminded of the last time we'd been cuddled up, in a similar position to this, in his bed. I felt a flood of warmth run through my body at the memory as I was suddenly aware of how close we were, aware of how good he smelt and how strong his hard muscled arm felt as I leaned against it.

"I'll take that as a compliment."

"I meant it as one," I assured him. "I like that you're goofy. Your recklessness used to give me anxiety sometimes, when you'd always insist that you just had to do your own stunts on Captain America as if you really thought you were a super soldier, but I like that you're willing to take risks."

"Awe, gee, Whitney," he teased, squeezing me closer against him. "It was nice of you to worry about me."

"Of course I worried," I rolled my eyes. "Your muscles are bigger than your brain sometimes."

"Not anymore..." Chris held up the arm that wasn't currently around me and flexed his muscles, showing off a bicep that was still much larger than most even if it wasn't quite up to the Avengers standard. "I'm out of shape."

Against my own best interest, I turned slightly, letting my hand drift up towards his arm as my head fell against his chest. I traced over the bulging muscle and watched as tiny goosebumps rose up on his skin at the sensation. Skin that felt so soft under my touch and I felt his breath shift as he clearly felt the mood between us change the same way that I did. I felt emboldened by how amorous our emotional day had left me as I let my head tip back to find him looking down at me with the same intensity he had a few months ago.

My breath caught in my throat and I couldn't help myself. Despite every alarm bell going off inside my brain, I stretched up just enough to press my lips against his. For a moment, he relaxed. His shoulders dropped as my fingers curled around the arm they were just stroking, but then suddenly his entire body tensed as if he'd been shocked by a bolt of electricity. He jerked away, sliding out from under me and off the bed before I could even realize what was happening.

"No," he said firmly, pointing his finger at me the same way he did to Dodger when he was being naughty. "No, no, we're not doing this again. Not until we talk about it what's going on here."

I felt the sting of rejection so harshly that it almost brought tears to my eyes, but I knew he was right.

"I'm sorry," I squeaked out, my cheeks burning. "You're right. I shouldn't have done that."

My voice was shaking as I scrambled to stand up, the stunned look on Chris' face only adding to my embarrassment. We stood there, staring at each other with the bed between us, but he didn't speak and after a few moments of silence, my shame was overwhelming, kicking my flight instincts into gear.

"I'll go," I mumbled. "Sorry again."

I didn't wait for a response before darting towards the door, but Chris' voice stopped me before I could make my escape.

"Whitney, stop." He didn't shout, but his tone was firm and demanding enough that I froze on the spot. "We need to talk about this. We can't keep going on with it hanging above our heads."

I turned to face him, discovering that he'd moved closer and was standing by the foot of the bed. He was still a few feet away from me, but close enough that it felt almost suffocating and I bit my lip as I stared at his feet, unable to look him in the eye.

"I don't know what to say..."

"I can take it," he insisted, a hint of resignation in voice as he continued. "You've had plenty of time to think it over since our last conversation and you said earlier today that we needed to talk. If you're gonna turn me down, put whatever this is to bed, just do it now and get it over with."

I furrowed my brow in confusion at his words, my heart beating in my chest so fast that I could hear the blood pumping through my ears.

"Turn you down?" I questioned. "Why do you think I'm going to turn you down? I just kissed you."

"That didn't mean much at Christmas."

He had a very valid point and I felt another pang of guilt at how badly I was treating him. I was hot and cold, affectionate and withdrawn, unwavering in my decision one minute and unsteady the next. I hadn't spared much thought to how cruel that was and now that I'd realized, I couldn't hold back the frustrated groan that fell from my lips.

"I don't know what to do, Chris! I think I know what the right decision is. It's what always felt like the safer choice, but then there are times when that's just..." I paused, taking in a deep breath to work up a dash of courage. "It's not what I want."

Chris watched me closely as if choosing his next words very carefully.

"If the safer choice isn't what you want then it sounds like maybe you need to take a risk. You can't live your life making decisions out of fear."

My eyes narrowed. He was over simplifying the situation. That way of thinking might work if it was just the two of us, but with Gray in the middle, things were more complicated.

"It's not that straight forward."

I shook my head as I spoke, but Chris countered with a nod.

"Sure, it is," he shrugged before asking a question that almost stopped my heart. "Do you love me?"

I stared at him, opening my mouth to speak and then closing it again when the words didn't come. I stood there, gaping at him like some kind of ridiculous puffer fish, until I finally got a word out.

"What?"

A smirk slid onto Chris' face at my floundering as he repeated the question.

"Do you love me?" He asked. "And don't say it doesn't matter or it's not important. Just yes or no."

I stared at him for a moment longer as a war between my head and heart raged inside me. Deny, deny, deny was what my head was screaming, but in the end the quiet reminder of now or never from my heart was what won out.

"Yes, I do," I admitted, proud of my voice for not breaking. "I always have."

There was a grin on Chris' face now, but my stomach churned because it didn't mean anything. As I said, I'd loved him all along and yet here we were, no better off.

"That's all that matters then," he insisted. "We can figure out the rest."

"But what if we can't figure it out?" I protested, crossing my arms as if I could somehow fold into myself and disappear completely. "What if it's nice for a while and then it all comes crashing down around us? What about Gray?"

He shrugged again. His whole demeanour miles away from my own. He seemed confident, hopeful, almost excited while I felt nauseous, terrified and paralyzed by fear.

"But what if it doesn't? What if it all works out nicely? Why are you so convinced that we wouldn't last?"

"Because you're you," I reminded him, my tone flat as I stated the obvious. "Hollywood super star, Chris Evans. And I'm me, a boring nobody. You could have pretty much any famous actress you want, the only person who wants to be with me is the creepy maintenance worker in our apartment building."

Chris looked taken aback as his eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"What? I've never heard about this guy."

"He's just some weird guy who does the repairs," I shrugged. "He comments on my outfits and looks at me in this way that makes my skin crawl, but he's harmless."

"Doesn't sound harmless to me," Chris argued, crossing his arms as a thunderous look settled on his face. "Does he have access to your place?"

"No!" I assured him, but after my quick answer I realized that I wasn't so sure. "Well, I don't know. He might have a spare key, I guess. If most maintenance people do? They have to give me notice before they enter the apartment anyway."

"Unless he's sneaking in to perv on you."

"Chris! That's gross!" I wrinkled my nose in disgust. "Why would you put that thought in my head?!"

"I told you that you should have let me buy you a house," Chris huffed. "You're moving when all this covid shit is over."

"Oh my god," I groaned having flashbacks to our conversation a few weeks ago about him buying me a car. "All of this is so beside the point! We're talking about how you'd get bored of me and leave me heartbroken for some flashy Hollywood babe, remember?"

"Right," Chris nodded, letting his arms fall to his side. "But that's such a ridiculous idea that I thought it was hardly worth acknowledging."

His dismissal of one of my biggest fears sent a flash of anger through me.

"How is it ridiculous?" I snapped. "It's true!"

"You know me, Whitney," Chris sighed. "You know that my team had to practically force me into doing Captain America because I had one foot out the door of the whole acting gig and I hated the way Hollywood made me feel. Do you really think that I would give up a chance at a having family with you, someone who I really care about, for some wild, short-lived fling?"

His tone conveyed his disbelief, but he hadn't quite accurately interpreted what I meant.

"I think you'd regret it," I clarified. "I think that once the initial excitement wore off, you'd see that I'm nothing special and that I don't fit in your world."

Chris was looking at me as if I'd grown an extra head and I crossed my arms a little tighter around myself.

"We were friends long before Grayson came around and I've always thought that you were something special. Where is all this insecurity coming from, Whitney? Because I just don't get it."

I swallowed hard as I bit my lip. I felt incredibly vulnerable and the urge to run away and continue ignoring all my feelings seemed much preferable to standing here and analyzing them all, but I stayed strong. We were both adults and this was the only way to move forward. Whether it ended how Chris wanted or not, he deserved to know how I felt.

"I spent a long time convincing myself that you didn't care about me as anything more than a friend. I told myself that it was an insane idea because we're in two very different leagues so there was no point getting my hopes up. Then that night happened and I thought that maybe I'd been wrong, that it could be the start of a really good thing, but then you were gone by the time I woke up and you never called."

I barely choked out the last few words as I fought back the tears that were swimming in my eyes. An unmistakable look of guilt flashed onto Chris' face and he opened his mouth to comment, perhaps to defend himself, but I held up a hand to stop him. I needed to get it out or I never would.

"Then three weeks later, I found out I was pregnant," I continued. "I assumed from your silence that you didn't want to be with me and I knew that we were good together as friends so I kept my feelings to myself and spent the last three and a half years beating myself up for thinking for even one second that you would want to be with me."

"I did want to be with you..."

Chris was looking at me with those puppy dog eyes that he'd mastered and I sniffled as a tear slipped down my cheek.

"I know that now, but I can't just turn those thoughts off."

Chris sighed and rubbed his hands over his face before holding out his arms.

"C'mere."

I shook my head, wiping my tears as I worried that I'd fall apart completely if I stepped into his arms, but when he persisted and gestured me over again, I couldn't resist. I took the few steps needed to close the space between us and let my arms slide around his waist. He hugged me close to his body, burying his face in my hair as pressed mine into his muscled chest. We stayed like that for a few moments until Chris broke the silence.

"I'm sorry. I was an idiot," he apologized, his words muffled by my hair. "I should have fought for you. At the very least, I should have stayed until you woke up and I should have called, but I was scared too."

I felt more tears fill my eyes as I choked out a soft "I know".

Another silence fell between us before Chris spoke again, his words making my heart almost stop completely.

"I was going to propose." I pulled back at that confession, my eyes wide as I looked up at him unable to process his words fast enough to speak before he continued. "I called my mom up as soon as you told me you were pregnant. I wanted her to help me pick out a ring, but she talked me out of it. Said you'd think I was doing it for all the wrong reasons."

My heart fluttered back to life at the sincerity in his admission, but I nodded my head.

"Your mom is a smart lady," I told him. "I absolutely would have thought you were only doing it because you felt you had to."

"It wasn't out of obligation though," he insisted. "Maybe I was getting a bit ahead of myself leaping straight to marriage, but I cared about you. It was an opportunity to make it official, make that commitment and be a family. That's what I wanted."

I stayed quiet, resting my head back against his chest as I tried to take in all this new information. It was a lot to process especially when it directly contradicted the belief I had clung to for so long - that Chris and I would never work and for Grayson's sake we were better off apart. That assumption was so deeply embedded in my brain that it was hard to find the courage to take such a risk.

As if Chris could sense my lingering indecision, he continued.

"It's still what I want," he said softly. "Being here these last few weeks with you and Grayson as a family has been a dream come true. I wouldn't give it up for anything or do anything to jeopardize it if you'd just give me a shot."

The word 'okay' was so close to the tip of my tongue that it shocked me.

That was all I had to do, just open my mouth and agree and he would be mine.

My heart was pleading with me to do it, to take that leap and ignore any of the arguments against it that were running through my mind - especially now that those arguments seemed much less sound than they had a few short weeks ago. I was so conflicted that it almost physically pained me to have to make a decision and I couldn't help, but wonder how he could be so certain.

So, I leaned back and tilted my head so my eyes could meet his.

"How can you be so sure?" I questioned. "After how things have been these last few years, how can you be so confident in your feelings?"

"Because I love you," he told me plainly and with unwavering surety. "If you tell me right now that it's not what you want, then I'll accept your decision. But if there's a hint of a chance, then I'll wait as long as I need to. I've been waiting for years, thinking that I didn't even have a shot, I think I can wait a little longer now that I know that I might."

It was another heart wrenchingly honest explanation, another vulnerable admission, and something in the openness with which he spoke made me realize that over the last three years he had done nothing to earn any distrust from me. Even after the fallout from Christmas, he'd put his hurt feelings and pride aside to make things easier for me. He'd been sincere during every discussion we'd had since then and hadn't been cruel or impatient about my indecision. I had no reason at all, other than my own fear and insecurities, to assume that he was going to break my heart and tear apart our family.

He deserved a little bit of trust from me as well and a clarity washed over me as I finally knew what I had to do.

There were words I could have said, probably should have said, but I didn't feel like there was anything that would accurately portray how I was feeling. I settled for a more direct approach as I pressed up onto my toes and let my lips fall against his.

He tensed at first and for a brief, heart stopping moment, I thought he might push me away again, but he didn't. He relaxed, pulling me closer as my hands slid to cup his neck.

It was a soft kiss. A gentle, loving kiss, that I hoped conveyed what I couldn't figure out how to say. But when our lips parted and he leaned down to rest his forehead on mine, there was a concern in his eyes that told me I wasn't going to get away with it that easily.

"What does that mean?"

I bit my lip, staring up past his long eyelashes into his eyes. There was still a tiny voice in my head telling me to run, to stop being so foolish and leave now before I made a mistake, but my heart had found its footing now and wasn't going to back down. Listening to my head all this time hadn't made things any easier, so it was time to try something else.

"It means," I started, taking in a shaky breath. "I don't want to keep you waiting anymore."

Chris let out a breath of relief as a tentative smile slid onto his face.

"Really? You're sure?"

I swallowed hard and nodded my head.

"Yes," I breathed out, my voice thick with all the emotions swirling through me.

He dipped his head a touch lower until our lips were reconnected. It was a deeper kiss, more desperate than the first as his tongue slid against mine and his grip tightened on my waist, my nails scraping against the fuzz of his recently cut hair. I caved into him, clinging to him like he was a lifeboat in a storm until he pulled back to take a breath.

My chest heaved against his, the adrenaline of his touch and what this finally meant, almost too much to handle. I settled back down, flat on my feet and nuzzled my face back into his chest as I fought to calm my racing mind and just enjoy the moment.

"You really mean it?" Chris asked again, the shakiness of his voice filling me with another pang of guilt. "You really want to give this a try?"

"I mean it," I nodded against him. "Doesn't mean my concerns have all vanished in the last five minutes, but I...I think I need to trust you."

"I won't let you down," he murmured into my hair as he pulled me even closer. Another silence fell between us until I broke it with an embarrassingly large yawn and Chris' chest shook as he chuckled. "Do you wanna sleep down here tonight?"

As soon as he'd asked the question, it suddenly hit me how exhausted I was. Even just the thought of walking upstairs seemed like an impossible task when there was such an inviting, comfortable bed only steps away from where I stood. But a thought popped into my head that I couldn't ignore and I turned my head slightly so I wasn't speaking directly into Chris' muscles.

"What about Gray?" I asked. "He always comes to you in the morning..."

"Would it matter?"

His tone wasn't accusing or annoyed, but genuinely curious as sharing a child did add a strange new element to all this. I didn't really know what the best way to handle it was since Grayson didn't really understand our relationship or know how a typical family was set up anyway, but it didn't seem like the best way to introduce him to the idea.

"I think we should talk to him about it instead of just letting him stumble on us in bed together," I suggested. "But I think maybe we should wait a while?"

Chris' face fell as the look of worry returned.

"You want to keep this a secret?"

"I didn't mean it like that," I shook my head. "You can tell whoever you want, but I think we should figure things out, make sure things are stable between us before we try to explain it to Gray."

"Alright, that's fair," Chris agreed before leaning down to place another soft kiss on my lips. "I'll wake you up before he comes down."

"Okay," I nodded as I let my thumb stroke his cheek.

We reluctantly slipped out of each other's arms, but it was a brief separation as we climbed into opposite sides of the bed. Once we'd turned the lights off, we met in the middle and he pulled me back against his chest, letting me hook my leg over his hip as we settled against each other.

Chris ran a hand up and down my spine as he nuzzled in my hair.

"This feels nice..."

"It does," I hummed. With the darkness around us, the quiet that had settled in, I felt encouraged to say something that I'd felt I should have said long ago. "I'm sorry, Chris."

I felt him tense.

"For what?"

"For messing you around so much," I admitted. "Especially at Christmas...that wasn't cool."

"If I had expectations, I should have laid them out before anything happened." His answer sounded rehearsed, as if he'd spent a long time convincing himself of that fact. I wasn't entirely sure it was a fair statement, but he continued before I could question it. "I can understand where you were coming from, but I promise I won't hurt you."

I felt a pang of uncertainty because that wasn't always a promise that could be kept, but the sincerity in his voice gave me hope. I placed a soft kiss against his chest as his hands slid up under the loose shorts I was wearing to cup my bum.

"I love you," I mumbled against his skin.

"I love you too," he replied, making a feeling of warmth flood through me. "Thank you for giving me a chance."

I sighed happily as my exhaustion had my eyes fluttering shut. I wanted to stay awake, to keep this moment before the brightness of the morning could bring any doubts or second guesses, but I was powerless to resist as sleep overtook me.

-

Part Five

Tags:  @maggotzombie @moonlacebeam @mizzzpink @zaylaugh @flowery-mess @flowerjewels @njrronaldo7 @hockeychick10

[colossal-fallout]

[ Classified ]

The full report - Eren Yeager

The following report details all information on Eren Yeager. Contains NSFW content and reader must be over the age of 18 to view this document.

For your eyes only.

Name: Eren Yeager

Birthplace: Shiganshina

Height: 180cm / 5ft 9"

General

[ A1 ]

Appearance & Hygiene practices:

Eren's chestnut brown hair is always clean and fresh. Whenever he pays you a late night visit, he'll have most probably just gotten out of the shower. Coconut scented shampoo of sorts? Whatever it is, it smells so good.

Prefers showers over a bathe. He says it's to save time, but he spends a good 40 - 60 minutes in there, easily.

Once he's dry, likes to throw on jogger bottoms and a hoodie over his bare skin. His bare skin that is now so soft and scented as his favourite shower gel which is either tea-tree oil or Coconut.

If he wants to remain clean shaven, Eren must shave every 2-3 days. Sometimes he likes to grow it out but nothing ever past a long stubble.

Minimal body hair.

Trims the hairs on his pubic bone/lower stomach. Has pleasuring you in mind as he does so. Will take into consideration the friction against you.

Totally clean shaven testicles.

Eren's nails are short but that's because he bites them. [ see section A3 ]

Beautiful set of teeth. Brushes twice daily in a modern AU.

Eren adores it when you brush his hair for him. He finds it extremely relaxing as you massage his scalp. His eyes will close and a small, barely audible hum will emit from time to time.

Eren's skin care routine is pretty basic. All of the steam from sitting in his hot, frequent showers for so long seems to do him wonders - his skin is flawless and worthy of envy.

Due to the healing power of being a Titan shifter, Eren has no scars.

Eren has quite large hands with long fingers. He doesn't wear rings or jewellery as it reminds him of the burden of when he had to keep that damn key on him at all times. Will however, put up with a wedding ring.

[A2]

Body & Love language:

Eren is a pretty introverted person. His hands are usually tucked away inside of his pockets - be it either trousers or hoody/jacket.

He hunches a little too. Likes to feel hidden. He's had enough attention over the years and wants nothing more than to just shrink away in a crowded room. Or maybe, it's the weight of the world on his shoulders.

Brooding, moody exterior. Extreme "resting bitch face"

Shrugs a lot. At first glance, you'd think he was a moody teenager trapped in a grown man's body.

Likes to sit with his feet flat up on the chair with his knees splayed - you'll usually find him like this with an arm resting over a knee while the other is at a 90 degree angle pointing away from his hip.

Fumbles his hands together in formal occasions when he can't sit so casually or tuck them away.

Likes to drape his arm over you without touching you. His arm will rest above you on the top of the chair. A clear indication of "They're mine" and "I will keep you safe"

His hips will usually be swivelled in your direction, regardless of where you are in the room. A subconscious body language of sexual yearning.

Eren likes to hold hands with you when you're walking. He's not huge on PDA but likes the strong yet subtle showings that you're together.

Tends to rub his thumb over the back of your hand absent-mindedly when you do so.

His love languages include physical touch. Can get very needy and touch starved pretty easily. Not in a overbearing way, but even just a run of his slender fingers through your hair is enough to keep him going until the two of you are in a more private setting.

[A3]

Bad Habits & Tendencies:

As mentioned above, Eren bites his finger nails. His toe nails too. It's pretty gross to be honest.

He never does it in public, but he has been known to do it in front of you when he feels comfortable enough to do so.

Get's very fidgety when irritated or annoyed, which is pretty often. Especially if Jean is around.

Short temper. He's learned to tame it more over the years where he doesn't show it so easily. But everyone has their limit and when his is reached, his yell is booming and pretty intimidating.

During an argument with you he has been known to raise his voice, but it's not the frightening roar you've heard him unleash on others before.

Always apologises to you after he's calmed down. Even though it wasn't that bad.

If you two ever have a bad falling out, will lock himself away for days. He'll be pissed at himself for letting it get so bad and depressed that you two are having such problems. But he'll do anything he can to fix it.

[ A4 ]

Common misconceptions:

Obviously everyone has their own cannons and opinions. But I don't personally see Eren as being an abusive partner. Yeah, he has his problems and treats his friends like shit but there's a reason for that we'll probably see in the last chapter. If you're worthy enough to pierce that cold and distant shell, you're a very special person and he'll treat you as such.

Eren actually has a large heart hidden under that huge chip on his shoulder. He cares and loves the people around him unconditionally. Even to the point of carrying out mass genocide to protect them.

Still... He does have a dark side to be weary of at times.

Even though he's gross while in Liberio, usually Eren is actually pretty clean.

[ A5 ]

Food & Drink:

In a Modern AU Eren loves fancy coffees with the weird names. The longer to pronounce, the better. He just likes the fact they give him energy and the fancier ones taste good.

Due to not having meat for so long, a good ol' fashioned beef/lamb stew is his favourite.

Doesn't drink in canon.

Modern AU, his alcoholic beverage of choice is bottles of beer and craft ales. Sometimes is a sucker for red wine.

[ A6 ]

Modern Au:

Eren wears loose clothing. Hoodies, loose jeans, those baggy cardigans too.

His texting style is spam over one long message. Especially if he's pissed off. He's too impatient to sit and type in paragraphs.

Drives a black car. Don't ask me what type, I don't know cars. But it's black, 'kay?

It also has "black ice" air freshener inside.

Likes to ride quads and mopeds along fields. He's a thrill seeker. Rollercoasters, bungee jumping... you name it he's game.

Eren plays the guitar. He took lessons for it but after about a year he just went his own way and self-taught.

If he sees a guitar at a party, he will pick it up and play it. He won't sing though.

He actually hates singing. He finds it embarrassing.

Always has in his air pods/earphones.

Likes any sort of music that is catchy.

Probably streams on Twitch. He won't talk much though.

Could have a wide range of jobs. Coffee shop, could be in college, might be a ride attendant... who knows? It's anyone's guess what Eren is doing. He doesn't talk about himself that much.

Romance & NSFW

[ B1 ]

Crush:

Eren would definitely be in denial he has a crush on you at first.

• “Does y/n seem different to you?”

Armin; “No…? In what way?”

“I dunno… Just, different.”

• His poor stubborn brain would be ticking for weeks as to why he suddenly wants to be near you a lot more often and has urges to touch you, even if it’s just a slight brush against your arm.

• Will find any excuse to do extra training with you

• Once he FINALLY clicks on as to why he’s had these feelings, he’ll be pretty knocked off his feet and a little annoyed at himself.

I’m here to kill the enemy...

• Still though… Can’t seem to keep himself away.

[ B2 ]

First kiss & general kisses:

After the initial denial and keeping himself away, he'll just decide one day he's had enough of feeling this way and decides to to something about it.

He won't shove himself onto you. He'll do some sly probing to see if there is any indication of reciprocation.

Knowing Eren, he'll indirectly piss you off or insult you. He didn't mean to. He's just lacking social skills. Man aint smooth.

You'll slap him, probably, where he'll keep his head away from you for a few seconds, realising he's pushed you too far. Whichever side you palmed him away, he'll stay.

He'll slowly return his gaze to yours before gently holding your arms, apologising and planting his lips onto yours.

His general kisses are quite firm and forceful. Not in an aggressive way, but a "god I want you so bad" way.

Always either slides his arms around your waist or cups your face/head.

He tastes like sweetened tea <3 / Coffee in a Modern AU

Loves coming from behind and snaking his arms around you, nuzzling into your neck when you're doing something. Doesn't like it when your attention is away from him for too long.

When he's feeling soft and tender, will dance his nose with yours and catching your mouth in a caress.

When he's super turned on, he'll suck your tongue, bite your bottom lip and kiss anywhere he can.

[ B3 ]

Sex:

Ha ~~!

Eren is up there with the best when it comes to sex. He knows what he's doing and he does it well.

Extremely skilled with his fingers and tongue. He'll have you crawling the walls with hysteria as he likes to tease you throughout the day. He more than makes up for it, though.

Gropes, nips, kisses, licks, bites, flicks... anywhere and everywhere he can.

Is the most vocal when you perform oral sex on him. Will groan so deeply, his entire body will vibrate.

Dirty talk is this man's second language.

"Look how desperate you are for me." / "Look how desperate for you you've gotten me..."

"Do I feel good like this?"

"Am I making you feel good baby?"

"You're so good at that. Fuck, such a good girl/boy"

"S'so fuckin' tight."

"You're my little fuck thing, aren't you?"

"You're perfect."

"I love you..."

Are some of the many things you'll hear while he's fucking you.

He doesn't really have a favourite position. He'll gladly take you anyway he can. If he's in a rough mood, he'll bend you over the sofa, take you up against the wall... But if he's feeling more soft he'll make slow, passionate love to you for hours.

He does have a strong soft side at times.

Dominic Dominant. He loves seeing you totally at his mercy, the power over you the most arousing thing in the world to him.

Big daddy dilf vibes. He knows what he’s doing and he’s fucking good at it too.

The only time he’ll sub is if he wants to be lazy - letting you ride him and use him to your heart’s content.

Dirty talk. It can get pretty degrading at times. If you’re not into that, he respects that boundary.

Will absolutely ruin you.

Low-key loves it when you claw his back in hysteria. He thrives knowing he can send you absolutely insane, and he can just heal the claw marks in a matter of seconds. Sometimes even during sex (which is the hottest thing ever)

In an AU modern, he would love to fuck you near a large mirror or record you both getting at it to watch at a later date.

A lot of hissing, humming and low groaning, especially when he’s close to unloading.

Likes to watch you masturbate, putting his head close and observing intently. Loses his shit if you moan his name while doing so.

Hair pulling is his overload language. Will tug fistfuls when he gets too turned on.

[ B4 ]

Kinks:

The risk of getting caught. He likes having risky sex in semi public locations. Makes a game of how loud he can get you to moan, knowing someone would probably hear you.

Light Degradation. When he’s in a rough mood, he doesn’t mind calling you a few names. Nothing too extreme. And if it’s not your thing, he’ll respect that boundary.

Loves a good ol’ 69. Having you on his face with your ass in view is just… *Chef’s kiss*

Speaking of ass, he loves to bend you over too, allowing himself in nice and deep with a great view and something Juicy to grab.

[ B5 ]

Aftercare:

Aftercare with Eren isn’t anything special unfortunately. He’s another who gets sleepy after sex.

Won’t ignore you though. Often lazy pillow talk is on the cards and telling you how much you mean to him and how beautiful you are.

Will run his fingers across your scalp to soothe you.

Also will kiss any bite marks or finger bruises he’s left behind and ask if you’re okay.

Relationship with loved ones & becoming serious

[ C1 ]

Friends & Family:

When Eren meet's your friends family he will be polite yet quiet. He wants them to like him but he won't pine for their approval. If they like him, awesome. If they don't...? No big deal.

Same goes with your friends. He'll stay quiet until spoken to at first, but once he's been eased into conversation, he'll flow with it a lot easier.

Again, he'll be polite but don't expect him to kiss ass, because he certainly wont.

[ C2 ]

Marriage:

You couldn’t actually believe Eren had proposed. Although he was down on one knee in front of your very eyes, your mind just wasn’t accepting it. Folks and onlookers watched with bated breath, awaiting your answer. He sure kept this surprise hidden well…

Of course, you said yes and he picked you up by your waist in a spin, colliding his lips to yours.

And now here he was, watching you walk down the aisle, a lump in his throat and his heart racing.

You looked gorgeous, like something from a fairy tale.

And of course, he looked as handsome as ever. His suit was smart and his hair was up in its usual bun.

Armin is his best man, of course; who is standing and beaming with pride.

Eren holds back his chokes and tears as he reads his vows;

“Y/N… From the first time I ever laid eyes on you, all those years ago, I knew you would be in my life forever. Back then, I didn’t think it would be as my wife, but God I am so glad it is. I’m sorry for my stubbornness and irrational behaviour when we were young. But despite that you still loved, and stood by me and for that I’ll be eternally grateful. I vow to always stand beside you, whatever the world throws at us. I vow to hold you when you need support. I vow to remember how you always had my back no matter what. And I vow to always love you, with my heart and soul, until the day I die and after.”

The room erupts in cheers and tears when you seal your kiss.

The reception is wild.

Everyone is drunk (except Levi) and dancing. Reiner and Connie are dancing like weirdos, Reiner's blazer removed and at one point Connie is on his shoulders.

Sasha has too much to drink and is spewing in the bathroom.

Mikasa can’t stop crying with happiness and pride.

He carries you to your room afterwards where you spend all night sealing a special bond that will never be broken.

[ C3 ]

Children:

Eren has a soft spot for children, believe it or not. As seen before the expedition to the forest of giant trees. He sees his old self behind the innocent glint of unaltered admiration within a child's eyes.

He's not super into child play though. He wont pull weird voices or funny faces. He'll sit at their level and speak to them like they were anyone else. Obviously, watching what he says around them.

If they're unchecked and acting themselves, he'll become quickly annoyed as they wreck havoc around him and will have to leave the room or he'll get too agitated.

If his s/o discovers they're pregnant he'll seem to take it well. But inside he's falling apart and freaking out. He won't ever show it to them, but he doesn't know how he could be a father. Would he be like his own? Would he be able to be a good figure to look up to? What if he fails? Is it selfish to bring a child into this cruel world?

He'll be shocked but understandably so. After after a couple of weeks of self-reflection and brooding, he'll start to feel better about the whole thing.

More protective over his s/o than usual. Will make sure they're eating, drinking, resting and god help you if he finds you doing something you shouldn't such as trying to lift something heavy.

Will hold your hair and rub you back, as well as bring you water while you're having your morning sickness.

"Babe? It's four in the afternoon. How come you're still sick?"

"Eren, it's called morning sickness but it can happen any time."

He'll click his tongue. "....That's a dumb name, then."

The first time he feels the baby kick within you, his heart absolutely melts. His eyes enlarge and you could swear you saw them soften with that spark behind his emerald greens he had when you were younger.

His large palm is warm against your stomach as he feels around, the little flutter of your child hitting against his skin making him flinch in surprise at first.

"Woah..." He'll gasp in amazement. "They're already so strong. Hey, y/n? Doesn't that hurt?"

"Sometimes." You'll laugh softly.

He'll gingerly place his face to your skin, a little embarrassed he's doing this; but he feels the need. "...Don't hurt your mom, okay?"

As your pregnancy progresses and you get larger, he will not leave your side. If he has to, he'll be worrying and you'll be occupying his mind. In a modern au, he'll constantly call and text and will get Mikasa or Armin to check in on you often.

Will be so gentle during love making. He's terrified he'll hurt the baby.

One of the only times you've seen Eren panic in his adult life is when your waters break.

You'd gotten up in the middle of the night to pee. Climbed back into bed and felt a strange pressure, followed by a pop. Then a warm gushing sensation. You wait a few seconds to settle your own panic before you nudge Eren awake.

"Eren..."

He'll bolt up, confused. "What? Are you okay? Is the baby okay?"

"Eren, my waters have broken."

"Shit. Okay. Shit. What do we do? Shit." He'll leap out of bed and throw the lights on. You get to your feet where more water will start to drop onto the floor. "Shit, shit. I'll get the bag. Do you need help getting dressed? Okay, where's my jacket? WHERE'S MY JACKET?!"

"Eren, honey I need to you calm down."

"Okay, sorry. I'm calm. Shit. Shit..."

Will hold your hand with a worried look the entire time you're in labour. Has water and snacks on hand.

Will watch in amazement as your child is pushed into the world. This magical moment changes something in him, but right now he's not sure what that is.

They will bond immediately. As soon as he holds your son/daughter he can't take his wide gaze off them.

They're inseparable.

Any doubts of being a bad father is washed away as he takes them under his wing and teaches them about the world.

[jiminniethemarshmallow]

Thank You For Your Service IV (M)

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

Part 1~ Part 2~ Part 3~ Part 4

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

*** *** ***

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

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

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

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

“This would look beautiful hanging from the palace walls, don’t you think?” You turn toward Lilian as she browses the collection of jewelry that sits beside the tapestry you are holding, her eyes inspecting it briefly.

“I think it would look lovely in one of the sitting rooms.” She grins. Lilian always accompanies you on these types of trips. You value her opinion and reason and sympathize with her lack of outside interaction. Both of you are in the palace at almost all times and you are sure you both would go crazy if not for these couple hours outside those claustrophobic walls.

“I think so, too!” You agree, turning to the guard who continues to survey the area. “What do you think, Kyungsoo?”

He looks at it for a while, then at the others around it, finally bringing his eyes back to yours. “Whatever you desire, Your Majesty. My opinion is insignificant.” His answer causes your face to fall, rolling your eyes at him because he always says that. This is another reason why you bring Lilian along.

Sauntering into your favorite bookstore, you cheerfully greet the clerk and begin browsing for newly released books. Not long after, two women approach you, one of which you recognize to be the bookkeeper’s daughter and a new friend of yours. She always comes to talk to you about the store’s newest additions, and it gives others around her the confidence to speak to you as well. Today she is with a slightly older woman who she introduces as a rising author.

“I believe I have read one of your books before; remind me, which ones have you written?” You prompt, making the woman blush and brighten.

“Snowflower is my most popular work. It is all thanks to your review that I was finally able to get noticed in the writing community!” She beams, sparking conversation with you and Lilian about the book that the two of you enjoyed so much. It must be more than 15 minutes later that you finally decide on what to purchase, you have been listening closely to all that the ladies have to say about each author and the summaries of each story. There were multiple that piqued your interest and you could not decide so you ended up with 3 books in hand as your friend walked you to the register. One of them happens to be a story following the trials and struggles of a mother who becomes pregnant during a war. Of course you hadn’t picked this book for its theme of motherhood. It promised to be a good read— though you had overlooked it many times before today— and you certainly did not choose it because it was the closest thing to a lesson on pregnancy you could get without purchasing the entire series of “Preparing for Parenthood”, perched on a shelf that you found yourself eying the majority of your stay in the store.

Your friend talks mindlessly as she rings you up for your books, inspecting your odd selection. “So tell me, Your Majesty, are you with ch- ow!” The woman beside her pinches her arm just out of your sight, offering up a tight lipped smile when she turns to pout at her. A short flash of realization crosses her face before she returns her attention to you.

“Am I with whom?” You ask, confused.

“Are you with t-the children! Have you- have you come to see the preschoolers perform today?” She covers quickly with a nervous smile. Lilian glares at her when you are facing the other way.

“Oh! I recall hearing that they will be performing a play today, I nearly forgot!” The people around you sigh in relief at your obliviousness, resuming conversation as though nothing had happened. They give you instructions to the school and you rush there, Lilian carrying your books and Kyungsoo leading the way.

When you arrive, there are only parents and family members filling the auditorium, signifying that the play has not yet started. They chat amongst themselves in a rumble of murmurs, but the noise quiets quickly once you are noticed by a teacher that stands near the stage area.

“Her Majesty!” She gasps. “Welcome, welcome!” She practically runs to you, approaching clumsily while Kyungsoo moves to shield you with his body, stopping the woman before she can get too close. You gently move him aside to allow the woman to see and speak directly to you. “I had no idea that the Queen would be visiting today! To what do I owe you the pleasure?”

“I have come to see the children perform. It is imperative of me as Queen to support our kingdom’s youth.” You smile, noticing a weird look that crosses her face for a moment before smoothing out. Lilian has a tight smile spread across her lips just out of your peripheral.

“Of course! Well, you are just in time, the show is about to begin.” She tries to clear the front row of parents for you, but you insist that the parents of the children should get the best seats, settling for the chairs she pulls up for you at the sides of the small theater.

The moment the toddlers waddle onto stage in their costumes, your heart liquifies. They are the cutest things you have ever seen. Some of them look confused, some are pouting, but most of them are excitedly waving at their parents in the crowd, nearly tripping over each other from not looking at what’s happening in front of them. Even more heartwarming is the reactions of the parents, each and every one of them sitting up straighter and beaming with joy at the sight of their offspring, even the parents who had previously looked bored. Your attention is split between what is happening onstage and in the crowd throughout the entire play, watching the silent interactions between child and parent. You could always tell which tot belonged to which parent because of their reactions. Every child had their own lines, and whenever one stepped up to speak, the parents would lean in closer to the stage or straighten up to send a thumbs up to the wide eyes that stare back at them.

At some point, you had begun to imagine what it would be like if your own child were up there. You scan the faces of the toddlers, determining that a shy little girl bears the closest resemblance to your future baby, and you watch her the entire rest of the play. Her finger reaches into her nose several times during the performance, something your toddler would be forced to learn not to do, and she appears to be quite hesitant to say her lines. You and Jimin would act just as her parents are now, waving at her and mouthing words of encouragement when it seems like she will not speak at all, smiling proudly after she executes her parts flawlessly. Jimin would probably hold your hand as you watch her and you would be able to feel the sweat on his palms from how much he would worry for her, whispering to you how he hopes she will not cry because of how shy and quiet she tends to be. And you would whisper back that your baby is talented and will do great because she is very mature for her age, being a Princess and all.

Your eyes do not leave the girl for a minute and you are so caught up in your fantasy that you almost miss when everyone stands to clap at the end of the show. You rise slowly and offer your applause, cheeks hurting from smiling too much, but you cannot ignore the bittersweet feeling in your chest that comes when all of the children disperse and run into the arms of their waiting parents. And you are forced to remember your situation. The teacher begs you to make closing remarks and you take your place on the empty stage to address your people. Unable to focus properly, you barely know what you are saying; you thank the students and teachers for a great show, repeat a total of 4 times how adorable the children were, speak at length about how much you enjoyed everything, and once you notice that you’re rambling, you conclude quickly and move from the spotlight awkwardly. The families don’t seem to notice as they return their attention to gushing over their babies.

Just as you are about to make your exit, someone runs up to you and stops at your feet, her hair barely reaching the bottoms of your knees as she looks up at you. It is the girl you had been watching, and her arms reach up to be held once you make eye contact with her. At the approval of her parents, you lift her light body and rest her on your hip, the position comfortable and natural despite you having held a child only a few times in your life. You congratulate her and she smiles at you, turning to look at her parents as you try not to marvel at how perfectly innocent and sweet her face is.

“Your Majesty,” Her mother greets with a bow. “I was very surprised to see you here today. I had heard that you often come to these parts of town, but I would have never expected you to grace us with your presence on an occasion like this.” She is very polite, noting how the little girl has taken a liking to you already.

“I believe it is important to keep in touch with my people, and what better way is there to connect with you all than to attend a performance of my kingdom’s children?” You grin.

“I heard rumors that lately you had been feeling quite under the weather.” At this you quirk an eyebrow. She continues. “Many had assumed you were pregnant, so word spread that the King would not allow you out of the palace and that is why you had been absent for the past few weeks.” As if Jimin could tell you what to do. Yes, it is true that you had not gone outside of the palace in about 3 weeks, but that was of your own accord.

Jimin’s mother had taken a short vacation to your home upon your request after you detailed to her your troubles with conceiving in a lengthy letter, and she spent those three weeks improving your physical health with things like yoga and kegal exercises, as well as offering you very blunt and personal advice that you were almost too embarrassed to put into practice. Jimin warned you of how she was unafraid to talk about intimate topics, recalling a specific conversation she had with him in his teenage years, but you were still unprepared for the sheer amount of information she gave you during that time. You simply did not have time to go on your weekly shopping trips.

“That is... not the case.” You reply, adjusting the girl on your hip.

“Oh, then you are not pregnant?” The woman seems surprised and Lilian seems almost outraged, cutting in when you open and close your mouth with no other response.

“We have not been to this part of your town yet, are there any places you suggest we visit?” Lilian’s voice sounds through her teeth, swiftly changing the subject. You didn’t think you would have trouble talking about this, but here you stand, blinking away tears at her question. The girl’s mother seems to realize her mistake when she takes in your watery eyes that you try to hide with a fake smile. You let Lilian continue her conversation as you wander away a few steps, pretending to inspect your surroundings as you gather yourself, until a nearby newspaper catches your eye. On the cover are the words “KING’S NEW ORDERS! PROTECT THE QUEEN” and your heart jumps at the suddenness. You bend carefully to turn the page and read the article, a mix of emotions rushing through your body that almost makes you lose grip on the child in your arms when you understand their significance. You quickly return her to her parents, excusing yourself from them on the pretense that you had to be back at the palace for important business, and you instruct Kyungsoo to guide you back to the carriage to head home.

Upon entering your bedroom, Jimin finds a note on the bed in your writing, reading it with curiosity. It leads him to a familiar place and he hurries there with mild concern, mind rushing with thoughts of what your note could have meant.

Curled up in your favorite chair, he finds you reclining with a new book in hand as you look through the window of your Secret Library. Your servants know nothing of this place, you and Jimin have made certain that it’s location remains hidden, so this is the only place you can truly be alone. To his knowledge, you only come here when something is troubling you or when you need to think, and his mind jumps to all of the worst case scenarios of what could have happened.

“My love, you wished to speak with me?” He asks, approaching urgently as according to your urgent letter. But you remain relaxed and unresponsive as you continue to flip through the pages of your novel. He looks down to inspect your choice reading, taking note that it speaks of a woman who, in this current scene, is just learning that she is pregnant. You take your time reading it, only turning to him after the chapter is finished. When you turn to him your eyes are blank and unreadable.

“Why have you placed a censorship on our people, My King?” You ask suddenly, and it takes him aback.

“A c-censorship?” He stutters out.

“Yes, you recently placed a censorship on the people of this kingdom, have you not?” You look him in the eyes and find that he can barely hold eye contact, his entire body tense. It is difficult for him to respond, especially since you were not supposed to know about this, at least not this soon.

“It is not a censorship.” He evades.

“Really? So you have not ordered our people to be silent about anything pertaining to pregnancy and children around me?” He fidgets under your piercing tongue, unsure of how to respond. “That sounds quite close to censorship to me.”

“It is only to protect you, My Queen,” He relents, stepping closer to you as you snap your book closed. “People can be very insensitive and I did not want you to be hurt by their words.”

“Hurt by their words? What words would they have said to me? I am not a child, Jimin, you need not protect me from words!” Your volume rises along with the redness of your face. “Are the people criticizing me in some way? What have they said? What have you heard to make you so wary of words?”

“Their words hurt me, (Y/n).” He says quietly as he lowers himself to his knees and takes hold of your hands when he sees the worry in your eyes. “What I heard hurt me, and I could not bear the thought that you may hear such things too. I did not do this because I think you are not strong enough to endure it, I did it because you do not deserve to hear such negativity.”

“Even so, how dare you make such a rash decision without consulting me.” You remove your hands from his and he does not reach for them again. “You saw me directly after your council meeting last week and mentioned not a word of this to me. If you had asked, I would have told you that none of this is necessary, that I can handle whatever my people have to say about me because I am the Queen!” Your voice cracks annoyingly as you fight back hot tears. “I should be able to answer them when they ask me questions. And maybe I should hear what they say about me. Because they are correct, I am not pregnant and I do not know if I can ever become pregnant and maybe they should be worried. My sensitivity should not warrant their silence.”

“You are not sensitive, my love, you have every right to feel the way that you do.” You ignore him.

“But what troubles me the most is how you so easily excluded me. You acted without my consent and planned to keep this from me indefinitely— you even made sure Lilian was the first to know so that she could keep watch over me today! What happened to our communication, Jimin? We should be able to talk to each other about anything and everything, but instead you felt the need to keep something so important a secret from me. You could have simply talked to me and told me how you feel. It feels as though we have not spoken in days, it is almost like you aren’t trying anymore. It feels like you have given up.”

The fire in your tone dies down until all that is left is pain, and Jimin realizes that it is he who has hurt you the most.

Lilian told him about where you went today and how you acted. She told him of the lost and pained look in your eyes as you watched the children, even though you were smiling. Most importantly, she relayed your exact reaction when that woman asked if you were pregnant. It was just as he had feared. Putting these pieces of information together with the book you had been reading, Jimin knows that this argument is about more than what you’d like him to believe.

“This is no longer about the censorship, is it?” He asks cautiously, guilt leaking onto his features. You appear shocked at first, not having realized your own subliminal shift from the topic, but then your face twists with emotion and you bite your lip and turn your head from him in an effort to hold yourself together. You are tired of crying in front of him.

“You-“ Sniffling, you try to control the shakiness of your voice. “You do not talk to me anymore. I never know how you are feeling these days because you have been avoiding me.”

“I do not try to avoid you, my love.” He frowns, moving his hand to rest on your knee.

“It feels like you are. You do not come to my health examinations anymore, you can never seem to make time for them.” He opens his mouth to speak, but you don’t let him. “I am always forced to go through them alone and I sit there the entire time wishing that you were there to hold me or reassure me, but I’m always alone. And it may be easier for you to hear the bad news from my mouth, but it hurts me more every time I am forced to tell you that I have failed once again. And we haven’t tried in a long while, I am beginning to fear that you no longer want to touch me.” Your eyes convey a deeper pain than your words can communicate, and the earnestness in them when you look at him breaks his heart. He didn’t mean to make you feel this way, it‘s the last thing he would want.

“I still very much want you, My Queen, I always will. I have been hesitant to initiate anything with you as of late because you seemed so disheartened and dejected and I did not want to further upset you with inappropriate timing. I have also been struggling to keep my optimism, forgive me for my misjudgment.”

“That is another problem,” You sigh, knitting your eyebrows. “I have no idea what you are thinking or feeling. You always comfort me and tell me that I can be open with my emotions with you, yet you do not listen to your own advice and tend to lock up around me. It will not lessen my sadness, but to know that you are just as affected by this as I am and that I am not overreacting would give me the tiniest bit of comfort. But when you force yourself to appear unaffected, it feels as though I am the only one who cares.”

“But I am the King,” Jimin starts, conflicted. “I cannot afford to show weakness or lament in our misfortunes. I must be strong for the people.”

“Strength is not the only trait of value!” You hiss, irritated that he has this perception that is so inaccurate. “Emotion does not always entail vulnerability and the people will see that. They adore how much you care about them, how you grieve with them when you learn of their losses, so why would it be inappropriate for you to care about me? Do not forget that you are also my husband. That is what you signed up for on our wedding day; you married me and the kingdom followed. Why is it that I am never your priority?!”

Sadness transforming into boiling rage, you stand and push past him toward the exit. This is your first real argument with him and it seems that everything that has been bothering you for the past few months is now exploding out of your mouth. You did not mean for your words to be so harsh, yet you could not control them and figured that you should let everything out while you had the chance. Much of your frustration is about your own incompetence, but you redirect it toward him because you cannot handle anymore mental self-abuse. A tiny part of you wants him to yell back at you and affirm everything you already thought about the direction of your relationship just so you could be right about something for once. Most of you, however, wants him to run after you, take you into his arms, look you in the eye and dispel all of your worries by pouring out his heart to you.

And that is exactly what he does.

“My love, do not run away.” He says gently, grabbing your hand before you can even make it 3 steps past him. He moves to the front of you, taking your face in his palms so he can stare into your eyes, hoping they can fill in the blanks between his words. “You are always my priority and you always will be. I-“ He sighs, looking away for a second before returning to you. “I do not always make the best choices, and for that I apologize. Being your husband and a King is far different than being a military general, and it is taking longer to adjust than I anticipated. I love you so much, to the point where I am afraid of making mistakes and losing your heart somehow, so I try too hard to be perfect. I take care of your kingdom because it was yours before it was mine and I know how dearly you hold it’s people. I try to be as tough as possible for you because I thought you would expect it of me when you were feeling weak.” His hands fall to your shoulders. “As a General, I learned that the only way to gain respect and love was to work hard and solve all issues, but it appears that I will need a different mindset in this situation. Because it seems I have become too consumed with work and too busy to show my love for you, and I know I will need to change that if I want to be a good father to our children.”

“You do not need to change at all, Jimin. Who you are trying so hard to be is not the same man you were when I met you. Yes, you were strong in front of others, but you never closed yourself to me. I do not want you to change or pretend to be tough, I want you to be you, because that is who I married.” This causes him to think back to how he has behaved in recent months. Maybe he was avoiding your appointments purposely so he wouldn’t have the chance to break down in front of the doctor or Lilian. And maybe he had been ignoring you so he wouldn’t have to face his own pain that you reflected. He’s been treating you unfairly in an effort to play a role that doesn’t exist, and he welcomes the guilt that slaps him in the face at the realization. He hates that he ended up like this even after all that you went through in the aftermath of your wedding. It is like he had forgotten all that he promised you.

“I apologize for everything, My Queen. I will remove the censorship immediately.” His head bows with heaviness. “I do still want a family with you, but maybe we should take a break from trying, just for a little while. Maybe this building friction between us and the stress it caused has been affecting our fertility. Maybe we are trying too hard and should take your advice to just be ourselves. A baby should be made from love, not by expectation. I do not want-“ He thinks about his next sentence carefully. “I want to improve our relationship first, before our attention is shifted to other matters. We are young and have not yet been married a year, my love, we will have plenty of time to conceive. Let me make up for the neglect you have suffered these past months. Let us take it one day at a time.”

He’s right, your relationship has been strained, and it is not only from the fact that you are not pregnant. The discord between you two has taken a toll on your body: you are constantly exhausted, your head pounds with headaches most days, and the loneliness has changed your positive attitude into one of sulking and disdain. It has changed you. So how could you think of bringing a child into this world when you are at this level of dysfunction? Things needed to be resolved first, and here he is, willing to work everything out with you after accepting his faults. You couldn’t possibly reject him.

It’s been nearly a month since your argument, and things have taken a turn for the better. You helped Jimin realize something he didn’t quite understand before: that as King, anything he says goes, so he has been taking frequent days off to spend time with you. He’s taken you on many dates around the kingdom, showing you his favorite places to go when he was a child, exploring different towns you hadn’t gotten a chance to see yet, he even accompanied you on your shopping day to meet some of the friends you’d made. Being able to spend time with him like this reminds you of what it felt like in the beginning of your relationship. The novelty of seeing him and the excitement you’d feel in the pit of your stomach. Except this excitement is now from your curiosity of what activities you’ll do with him that day and not from the thrill of possibly being caught together by servants.

You’ve kept things fairly innocent these past few weeks, focusing on rebuilding your emotional connection instead of being physical. You’d lost a lot of weight during the months you were at odds with Jimin, but you’re happy to say that you’re gaining it back now that you’re paying more attention to your health and happiness and not the crazy diets and detoxes that people recommended to you to help with conception. What’s more, you’ve been keeping busy by accompanying Jimin on his political duties instead of remaining put away in the palace. He didn’t want to involve you in political affairs to keep your stress levels low, but you remind him that you’ve been involved in things like that since you where a young princess, so this is the norm. So now you happily travel with him out of the kingdom to attend meetings with neighboring rulers and assure them of your health.

This is the first trip you’ve taken, and it feels absolutely liberating. Seokjin insisted that you and your husband stay in his family’s vacation home located in the area— one of many acquired throughout his travels as a collector and salesman— and it is arguably nicer than the one offered by the royals of this kingdom. Perhaps not as luxurious (though very close to it) but certainly more private. You’d take any opportunity to escape any hovering servants. Your eyes sparkle as you walk through the doors, taking in the modern furniture, high ceilings, and breathtaking view of the green valley and hills surrounding you. The altitude is quite a bit higher than you’re used to, the kingdom poised along a mountainside and sourcing its water from the river that flows through the valley below.

You blame this altitude for the sick feeling in your stomach and the lightness of your head, trying your hardest to keep your etiquette and not plop face first onto the huge mattress. You sit gingerly on the edge, aided by Jimin, who kept hold of your arm ever since he saw you swaying when you stepped out of the carriage. He fusses over you, letting out a disgruntled grumble when you remind him that you saw the doctor before your departure and she found no troubling conditions within you— not even pregnancy, which you were disappointed to hear, but not surprised. The symptoms come and go and you assure him that all you need is some rest and you’ll be back on your feet, and he leaves you under the watch of Lilian and Kyungsoo (who accompany you everywhere) while he travels to the castle to greet the King and assure him of your safe arrival. You nap while he’s away and awake just in time for dinner, feeling refreshed and symptom free, much to his relief.

Being away from the palace and kingdom is sure to do wonders for your physical and mental health. Just being here with the people you love is a breath of fresh air, and you can’t wipe the smile off your face. Seated at the table accompanied by Jimin, Lilian, and Kyungsoo, you feel this is the closest thing you’ll have to a family dinner for a long while. As your servant, Lilian never eats with you at the same time, let alone at the same table, but you begged her to join you and fill the evening air with casual chatter. Kyungsoo is your favorite guard and you’ve always wanted to get to know him, but he remains relatively quiet throughout the meal and never lets his guard down, taking the farthest seat from his monarchs to silently observe. Typical. With your energy levels still quite low, Jimin and Lilian do their best to raise your spirits by showing off their goofy sides, telling stories and making you laugh almost nonstop. But just seeing them bond so well is enough to make your heart swell. You wonder if Jimin will have this type of relationship with your children, one where they can joke freely and build trust with each other without being hindered by the forced power dynamic. You hope their relationship will be better than the somewhat estranged one you have with your father.

“Are you comfortable, my love?” Jimin asks as you settle in for bed. This mattress seems to be made from the clouds of the heavens, you’ve never felt relaxation like this. You’ll have to purchase one for your own bedroom.

“Yes, My King.” You return, grinning at the way his cheeks lift. He climbs in behind you after blowing out the lanterns, the scent of smoke wafting gently through the room.

“How are you feeling? Better?” He sounds tired and you have no desire to keep him awake with your troubles, so you nod.

“Yes, after my nap and dinner, I feel just fine.” You don’t mention your growing headache because you’re certain a good night’s sleep will resolve it. You’re feeling uncharacteristically tired, exhausted even, and it’s most likely from the long journey here. Hopefully, you’ll wake up refreshed and energized in the morning.

“Alright. Let me know if you need anything tonight.” He whispers, already starting to drift off.

“I won’t trouble you.” You assure him, sinking into slumber.

“Are you sure you are well enough to go out today?” Lilian sifts through your clothing, trying to decide what to dress you in for today’s events, accounting for the warm mid-spring weather. She is alone in the bedroom with you, Jimin having stepped out to give you privacy while getting ready.

“Yes, I am feeling much better.” This isn’t a lie. Although you felt extremely sluggish upon first waking up, you now feel great. Jimin had asked you about a thousand questions before leaving bed this morning and at breakfast, and you dispelled each one of his worries with confidence.

“I am glad to hear that, but please do pay attention to your condition, Your Highness.” She says this as she holds up a pristine gown for your approval, handing it to you when you nod both at her words and fashion choice.

She doesn’t need to vocalize what’s on her mind, you know what she’s thinking, and frankly, you’ve been having the same thoughts. But your doctor was very clear that you are not pregnant when you saw her before the trip. Also, you bleed 2 weeks ago, and though it was short-lived, it was accompanied by cramps and headaches, dutifully reminding you of your empty womb. So you ignore Lilian’s concerns and move about your day like normal, smothering the tiny bud of hope that tries to bloom in your chest.

“Are you excited for today’s meeting?” Moving away from the topic, she smiles at you through the mirror at the way your face lights up, beginning her work on your hair.

“This is the most excited I have felt in a long while! It will be my first diplomatic duty as Queen.” Finally, you feel useful.

“Would you like me to accompany you?” What she means is ‘would you like me to keep an eye on you to make sure you are feeling okay/ nothing bad happens’ but you pretend not to notice.

“No, Lilian, I want you to treat this as a vacation of sorts. You work so hard my humble, loyal friend. Go and explore the towns, have fun while we’re away from the kingdom.”

“I do not want a vacation, I want to make sure you are alright.” She responds quietly, blushing. You hum.

“Respectfully, I do not need to be looked after like a child.” You chuckle. “I can do well on my own. Besides, Jimin and Kyungsoo will be there if anything happens.”

“Then I will take my leave tomorrow after I make sure you are alright today.” She says stubbornly, not meeting your eyes in the mirror. “I cannot relax in good conscience without being assured of your safety.” Nodding, you accept her terms with a smirk.

“Always a pleasure to see you, Queen (Y/n).” King Jackson smiles at you, bowing his head in greeting. You grin widely as you sit across from him and his wife at the large conference table, Jimin placed closely at your side.

“You as well, Jackson.” Last you saw him, he was a prince. In fact, he submitted the first marriage proposal you’d ever received, asking your father for your hand in marriage as soon as he heard you were of age. He is a little less than 4 years older than you, handsome, bubbly personality, likable and charming on all fronts, and you had no qualms with marrying him, but you also had no desire to leave your kingdom to rule another. As King, he would have you move into his castle and be at his service where you would likely not hold any power or say in most matters involving the people, something that deeply displeased you, so you turned him down. Now he has a wife and several small children, as well as the throne and an entire kingdom to lead. And as of your coronation, he is your kingdom’s closest ally.

“No need to be so formal, Queen.” He jokes, immediately setting a relaxed atmosphere. You are meeting to discuss and update the terms of a treaty between your allied nations, one that your fathers had written and agreed upon many years ago, but legally needs to be reviewed thanks to the recent shift in power. Your father is quite close with Jackson’s own, therefore you have a good relationship with the young King from years of getting acquainted during your childhood. Jimin, however, has no such history with the man and seems rather tense around the lighthearted playful. “I was disappointed when you refused by marriage proposal, but it seems that you have chosen a handsome and competent spouse in my place, just as I have.” He grins, winking at his wife, Lena.

“It was never ‘your place’, do not be so big headed,” You roll your eyes but he ignores your quip, eyes trained on Jimin.

“We spoke yesterday evening, but I am intrigued to get to know more of you, King Park. May I call you Jimin?” Jackson barely waits for a reply before continuing. “I must know more of the man whom I am to be allied with, and the man who married the ever-so-independent princess.”

“I must admit, I am curious about you, too. But if my beloved trusts and acknowledges you, then I will do the same.” Reaching under the table, Jimin’s hand finds yours and you smirk, pleased that he won’t let the other King intimidate him.

“Regarding the treaty;” Jackson pulls out a long document, skimming over the lengthy script that you are both irritatingly familiar with. “Will our kingdom’s continue to remain allied during times of war, help financially and provide resources in times of natural disaster, respect the borders set by each nation without the intention of gaining territory, and continue to keep trade borders open?” He reads off the major points of the list, you and Jimin answering with a ‘yes’ to each. “Is there anything else you would like to add?”

“Not that I can think of.” You respond, Jimin saying the same. Feeling satisfied by your responses, Jackson signs his name under the print of your fathers, passing the document to you for your signature. But you slide the paper to your husband, whose name appears in ink now instead of yours. Surprised by this, you can see the unfiltered comment bubbling out from the brazen King’s dome.

“I would not have expected, (Y/n), that you would submit the powers of your status to a man.” It is obvious that he has already assumed that your action means that you no longer hold the highest authority in your own land, but you are both quick to correct him.

“You are mistaken.” Your voices harmonize into one as you say this, Jimin continuing on to explain. “My Queen has not yielded even an inch of power to me. As I am sure you know, she is fully capable of handling affairs such as these, any responsibility she has shifted to me has been due to her own discretion.” Though his tongue is quick, Jimin is sure to keep a light, non-malicious tone so as not to offend your friend. You’d much rather focus on internal public affairs, leaving international and business related issues to your husband. But it seems others have the wrong idea about you.

The man across from you blinks at this, raising his eyebrows, and you know Jimin has just gained a large amount of respect in his eyes. You find it quite flattering to see him so defensive of you and you give an approving squeeze of his hand.

“As expected,” Jackson hums with a grin, receiving the document as Jimin passes it back to him. “Well, it seems that our business here is complete! Shall we have champagne to celebrate this swift agreement?” He doesn’t realize his error until his wife nudges him in the ribs and he looks up to see your faces pulled into wide-eyed frowns. “Ah, yes— my apologies,” He scratches his neck bashfully. “Then, may I interest you in some exercise?” Eyes boring straight into Jimin’s, he asks this as the men share a look.

“Oh, this is so exciting!” Lena beams, nearly bouncing in her seat as you both observe from a bench on the side of the field. Somehow you hadn’t expected this when Jackson offered his proposal. Your husbands are standing in a marked area with protective gear covering their bodies and gleaming swords, preparing for a sparring match in the warm weather. The sun beats down on you as you squint at them, using your hand to shade your eyes before Lilian appears with a parasol to place over your head. “Have you ever seen your husband fight before?” She asks, staring at your side profile.

“Never.” You respond. “This should be interesting.” Admittedly, you tend to shy away from violence, resenting the thought of people battling each other for bloody glory. Though you are in charge of the military, you never ask for too many details, and skillfully avoid any training grounds near the castle. It may be ironic, then, that you married a General who has seen more battles than he’s cared to mention and carries more scars than he’d care to explain. But you must admit that you’re intrigued by the spectacle he’s sure to put on for you, comforted by the fact that this is completely safe.

“Jackson has been training sword for most of his life, but has never seen an actual battle. I wonder how their skills will compare.” Lena states proudly, sipping from the drink one of her servants comes to offer, dismissed when you decline.

“I hear that you were a General, King Park.” Jackson checks the cap at the tip of his sword, nodding to the instructor that stands at his side.

“I’d like to think that I still am one.” Jimin responds as he stretches out his stiff muscles.

“Even after being promoted to Commander in Chief?”

“I’ve done nothing to earn that title but get married.” The man before him hums.

“I assume you are quite skilled with a sword then, have you practiced fencing before?”

“Of course, it is taught as the basics of sword fighting. Though, I would not say I am a master.” Humbly, your husband lowers his head to inspect his blade, shaking his head at Jackson’s outcry.

“Nonsense! Any man who has done battle for his life is surely a master. Though, I do ask that you do not hold back on me here; I certainly will not do the same for you.” A wolfish grin creeps up onto both Kings faces, mirroring each other as they pull down the hoods of their face guards.

“You’ve said nothing of your own skill thus far, I will not make the mistake of underestimating you.” The match starts swiftly after they take position, Jackson lunging forward and barely missing Jimin’s side as he dodges out of the way.

Your mouth falls open as they move, each motion calculated and precise. You know nothing about fencing, but it is clear that they are both highly skilled. You’ve never seen your lover move this way before, so dynamic and captivating as though he were performing a dance. Powerful and graceful in every step taken toward his opponent, wielding his blade as though it were an extension of himself. He is beautiful to watch, your heartbeat speeding up in your chest as you are enraptured by the display. Both King’s are even in size and capability, but you can see the ease of movement Jimin possesses compared to Jackson’s deliberate strokes, almost as if he were teasing him. Lena cheers from beside you, but you can’t make a sound. Seeing him like this— completely in his element and moving so gracefully— has your body heating for another reason unrelated to the unrelenting sun. You’ve married an amazing man.

“You’re quick.”

“That is a great compliment, coming from you,” Jackson grunts, keeping Jimin on the defensive with his bold attacks. “But I can tell you are merely playing with me.”

“Not playing.” Waiting. One thing Jimin is an expert at is waiting. Patience is his strength, in fighting and in his daily life. He was patient when it came to you, taking his time with each step of your relationship until he was entirely sure that you were ready, that you wanted him. He was patient with each of his military promotions, climbing up the ranks with hard work and diligence until he was recognized. And he will continue to be patient with the next stage of his life, trying his best not to lose hope that you will become pregnant one day, so he will deal with the disappointment and trials with you for as long as it takes.

As soon as Jackson falters he takes his shot, attacking with swift consecutive swings until his opponent is pushed far back on his side of the space and leaves an opening, one decisive lunge ending the match. They both pant as Jimin’s sword makes contact with the center of the other King’s chest, the cap pressed into the padding protecting his flesh. There’s silence for a beat before they both drop their guard, retuning to the start position. Jimin turns his head to make sure you were watching, lifting his mask to wink at you and smirking salaciously when you blush.  

“Well done.” Jackson nods. “But I won’t let you get the better of me next time!”

“Your husband is a bit intense, no?” You ask Lena as she giggles, humming in agreement.

“And it seems your husband is a bit competitive.” You also nod, the heat drying your mouth as you watch her sip her drink again. She calls over her servant when she catches your stare and they hand you a glass— Kyungsoo swooping in annoyingly to try it first before you can taste the sweet liquid. “He seems very fit and possesses a beautiful physique, I’m astounded that you have the willpower to leave bed with a man like that, especially as newlyweds.”

You choke on your drink mid-swallow, nearly spitting it out because of her words. Jackson has a notoriously dirty mind, it is no surprise to you that his wife shares that quality— she’d have to, in order to tolerate him. She laughs as Lilian takes the drink from you as you wipe your mouth, turning the comment back on her.

“I could say the same to you, Jackson is just as built.”

“Oh, trust that he kept me in bed for months after our wedding date. It is no coincidence that I have this many children now.” Her eyes shift back to the men on the field, seemingly satisfied with the rosiness of your cheeks. Recovering, you address her once more.

“Speaking of, may I meet them?”

“I’ve known (Y/n) for most of my life,” Jackson speaks up during their final round. “Though I submitted a proposal, she’s grown to be like a sister to me over the years.”

“Is that so?” Jimin grunts, their swords clashing loudly.

“I was skeptical of what kind of man she had chosen when word spread of your betrothal. Wondered if you would be able to protect her as she tends to venture out and do things on her own; sometimes-” He jumps back as Jimin closes in. “-befriending the wrong people. I worried when I heard of the catastrophe at your wedding ceremony.” The cap of Jimin’s sword touches to his opponent’s chest once again, ending the sparring match. They both remove their helmets and masks, breathing heavily as they look at each other. “I truly empathize with what you were forced to experience. I could not imagine being in that situation with my wife.” Both men turn to look at you and Lena, their 4 children surrounding you as you hold the youngest in your lap. It is a sight that simultaneously melts and breaks your husband’s heart. “Nonetheless, after meeting you, I am confident that she is in good hands. I like you a lot, Jimin, and though my approval may mean nothing, I think you are an excellent match for her.”

You look up to see them shaking hands, both of them walking over to you with content looks on their faces. The child in your lap looks up as his father approaches, making grabby hands at your friend until he reaches down and lifts him from you. You watch with starry eyes as Jackson props the child up on his hip, kissing over his chubby cheeks and forehead, but then your attention is pulled away when Jimin stops to stand in front of you.

“Did you win?” You ask, already knowing the answer.

“Yes, My Queen,” He bows dutifully, running a hand through his sweaty hair. It should be offensive how sexy he looks right now, standing in the sun with his wet hair, skin shining with hard work and eyes landing lazily on your figure with a lazy smirk. Your heart jumps and you have to look away before your mind slips even further away. “Do I get a victory kiss?” He bends down toward you, puckering his lips, and you push lightly at his chest with a laugh.

“But you’re all sweaty!” Your nose wrinkles at him but your eyes still lock onto his lips, even as you continue to swat at him.

“No kiss for your King?” Jackson quips, turning to his own wife who is already shaking her head in disgust. “Lena~ Don’t I get a reassurance kiss after my defeat?” The same look Jimin has on his face is contagious to the other King, who grins at Lena as she shields her face with another one of their giggling children, peeking out from over her shoulder. Both men approach with puckered lips, causing their Queens to squeal at their playfulness— you even hop up from the bench to avoid him, taunting him as Jimin chases you around the field. It’s rather immature, but you feel no need to pretend here or uphold appearances in front of your hosts. Lilian and Kyungsoo look on fondly, never having seen you so carefree.

“You never minded my sweat before, my love.” Jimin whispers to you when you finally allow him to give you a peck on the lips, his arms wrapped loosely around your waist. You don’t respond, rolling your eyes at him with a barely hidden smile.

“You seem to be getting along nicely with Jackson.” You comment as you rummage through your luggage, searching for one specific item. Jimin replies from behind the partition of the bathroom, bathing away the grime of the day in preparation for the night. You had both sent Lilian away when she offered to help and she took off to explore the nighttime activities of the kingdom, one of Jackson’s male servants offering to be her guide. You’ll be sure to ask her for details in the morning.

“Yes, he is quite an interesting character. He gave me his official approval to marry you, which I suppose I am grateful for.” Hearing the smile in his voice, you giggle, silencing the gasp that leaves your chest when you pull out the delicate lace garments, your heart rate speeding up. You aren’t sure why you feel so anxious about this. It’s not like you to get nervous about being intimate with Jimin, but you’ve never done anything like this before. Maybe it’s because it’s been a while since you last had him, the recent abstinence keeping your body on edge. Or maybe you are worried about what he will say when he sees you. Embarrassment colors your face as you quickly slip on the set, covering yourself with a robe when you are finished.

“He gave you his blessing to marry me?” You chuckle.

Stepping onto the tile of the partitioned washroom, you stand before the full length mirror to inspect yourself before tying it closed. The robe covers you from Jimin’s viewpoint behind you as he finishes washing up, and you try to appear productive as you move to moisturize yourself. When he is finished, your husband approaches from behind, a towel hung low on his waist as he comes to wrap his arms around your midsection. You can feel his sturdy body pressing into you as he pulls you closer, his eyes staring into yours through the glass when he rests his chin on your shoulder.

“His ego hasn’t shrunk an inch since I last saw him.” You sigh, letting your eyes flutter shut as the two of you sway gently together.

“Well, he is a King.” Jimin reasons in a whisper.

“But so are you.” His arms loosen around you when he feels you start to turn, both of your eyes open now as you peer up at him with glittering eyes, gingerly locking your fingers behind his neck. Your heart kicks up as you watch the easy grin on his lips, the absolute and unwavering adoration he holds for you so evident in his gaze. It reminds you of earlier times, his expression the exact same as when he first confessed that he was in love with you and you reciprocated, kissing him so certainly. Now, you kiss him with practiced ease and press ever closer into his warm body. Jimin’s tongue dances with yours, both of you getting lost in the moment until you are forced to pull away for air. “You were amazing today, General Park.”

The use of his former title makes his eyebrows shoot up in surprise. It isn’t like he doesn’t like the name, it is simply that he never expected to hear it come from you again.

“I did not realize that you were so agile and powerful, I was very impressed with what I saw.” One of your fingers trails down his chest, playing in the dip of his v-line before coyly tracing back upwards with each slow word you speak. “That is not to say that I was unaware of your capabilities, you have found great success in protecting me and my kingdom, but watching you was eye opening... and quite arousing.” His breath hitches in a way that gives you more confidence, courage swelling in your chest that helps you ignore the redness of your cheeks.

“Is that so?” Jimin swallows, curiosity lighting his gaze.

You hum in affirmation. “You must work extremely hard to become that skilled, so I thought it appropriate to give you a gift to show my appreciation for all that you do.” Taking a step back, you play with the ribbon of your robe, amused by the sudden change in Jimin’s expression. He watches you like a predator stalking it’s pray, detailing every movement of your nimble fingers with a heaving chest as you move at a snail’s pace to untie your robe. You decide to tease further once the ribbon is finally untied, only revealing the tops of your shoulders from the silk, holding yourself in modesty until it looks like he’s going to go insane before you open the from to reveal yourself.

Jimin feels like he could faint from what he sees when the robe drops. You are decorated in a lacy white lingerie set that is quite transparent, your nipples visible through the designs of the fabric. The bra of the set extends downwards under your cleavage and he feels his hands lifting to rest on your ribs to touch the material, following it delicately until he cups your breasts with his palms. Maybe it is due to the design of this expensive undergarment, but you fill out the bra much more than either of you would have expected, your breasts round and pushing at it in all the right spots. This is the lingerie set that Jin had hidden behind your commissioned painting as part of your wedding gift, and Jimin had completely forgotten that it was in your possession. He chooses not to question how Seokjin knows your body measurements in order to purchase the present. Eyes trailing down, Jimin takes in the equally scandalous panties that adorn your hips, all parts solid white except for the crotch that remains lacy and see-through giving him a view that makes his mouth water.

You look absolutely stunning, and he tells you in as many words as possible.

“Your gift is not yet complete, General.” The look on his face is everything that you had hoped for, and you wish to shock him even further with your next move. Hooking your fingers into the towel at his waist, you unravel it and expose his growing length, sinking down in front of him.

Quickly, he grabs your arm once he realizes what you are doing, preventing you from going lower. You pout up at him. “My Queen, a woman of your status should never kneel on the ground for any man. You must remain dignified.”

“My dignity,” You half scoff at the notion, rising to look him in his beautiful brown eyes. “I have neither dignity nor pride. You have it all, my love; I have given myself to you completely.” You allow yourself to break from your role play just this once, he needs to know that your words are true. If there is anything he should know by now, it is that you hold no reservations toward him. With him, you are equal and you trust him completely. It is not like you have never serviced him before, but he has never seen you on your knees below him due to his own beliefs and you would like to change that tonight. “I want to do this for you.”

This time when you lower yourself, he allows you to drop until your knees rest on the ground. The view he has is undeniably sinful. You can tell how much he enjoys it by how rapidly he hardens in front of your face. But when you look up from your own spot on the floor, you find that your view is equally as jaw dropping. Jimin looks down at you from over his nose, the damp hair on his head sticking to his forehead and dangling over his eyes, shadowing his features into sharp lines. Every inch of his body is chiseled to perfection, displaying the hours of training he has undergone over the years to get to the level of skill you witnessed today, and if it were not for you already kneeling on the marble, your knees would have buckled right from under you. He is like a statue carved by the gods. And he is all yours.

“If a Queen wants her soldiers to keep performing for her she must reward them, and you are the very best, so I will be sure to give you special treatment.” Lightly grasping his member, you take the time to feel how he grows in your grip. Just the feeling of you running your fingers over his plush balls has him almost fully erect, the muscles of his abdominals tensing as you lean forward to slide him into your mouth, caressing the underside of his cock with your tongue without closing your lips just yet. You’ll work him up slowly, you decide, wanting him to savor this rare occasion in hopes that he will allow you to do it again sometime. Your palm smears your saliva around his shaft and starts to steadily pump him up and down, the simple action causing a groan to tear from your lover’s throat.

Jimin does not know where to look in this moment. Should he focus on your hands as the diligently work to pleasure him? Your tongue when it peeks out from your lips to tease at his slit? The dip of your cleavage that lie in his direct line of sight, framed so perfectly by the underwear you don? Or perhaps those smoldering eyes you stare up at him with, those plotting, gorgeous eyes that call to his deepest desires? You look as if you would do anything for him at this moment— you have intentionally put yourself at his feet to show how vulnerable you are willing to be with him, that you trust him to the utmost degree and you would sink this low, literally, to demonstrate that.

“Shit,” Jimin curses, eyes trained on the way your lips wrap around his reddening tip. You sense his hands fidgeting at his sides, so you take them to place on top of your head, nodding encouragingly until he weaves his fingers into your hair. He throbs in your mouth and you fight back a smirk.

Working meticulously, you take the time to circle your tongue around every sensitive place at his cockhead, licking slowly over his frenulum and flicking over his slit as it starts to leak. The flavor is slightly salty and entirely him, and it makes your legs press together from where your knees dig into the polished marble. Your lips and tongue play at his upper half for a while, one of your hands rubbing whimsical patterns along his tensing thigh while the other tends to his aching base, pumping in time with your mouth with a slight twist to your wrist that has his fingers tightening against your scalp.

“Are you enjoying your gift?” You break away to speak, twirling your tongue around the line of saliva that connects you to his tip in the most lewd way possible.

“Yes,” Jimin pants, clearing his throat when his voice comes out raspy. But the sound makes you drip into your designer panties, the flimsy material doing little against your increasing wetness. “How did you become so skilled at this, My Queen? You are such an angel but possess devilish talent with that pretty mouth of yours.”

“I had an excellent teacher.” You wink up at him, hoping he was imaging all the times he guided you when you wished to taste him, becoming more confident as time passed and you no longer feared your gag reflex. You figure now is a good time to demonstrate just how well you absorbed those lessons, you finally sink further down on him until he touches the back of your mouth, collecting your spit to slick him before pushing him deeper and into your throat. Your stomach quivers as you hold back the urge to gag, but he sees none of that because when you look up his head is tossed back in ecstasy and concentration. He must focus so he doesn’t cum so soon.

“Just like that.” Biting into the plush of his bottom lip, Jimin falls into the trance of your movements, bobbing up and down on him with his tip lodged in your throat. The first moan he lets out has a shiver crawling up your spine, deep and loud so it echoes against every surface of the room. Drool slides out of your mouth as you continue to suck him but you pay no mind to it, only focused on the way your lover’s body reacts to you. His chest heaves for breath and you can see perspiration beginning to coat his chest and neck, Adam’s apple bobbing every time he swallows. The hand that was previously occupied with the rest of his length moves to his balls, kneading and massaging the sack gently as more moans pour from his mouth. Your clit throbs the longer you suck on him, his cock now at full length and hardness and feeling so thick and heavy on your jaw that you can’t help but fantasize about feeling it inside you again.

His hips eventually begin to twitch and rock into each of your movements, but you can tell he is restraining himself from bucking into you fully. When his eyes connect with yours again, you nod as best you can, pulling off slightly to take a few deep breaths and kiss along his silky skin. Once you have your breathing back to normal, you poise yourself with your mouth open wide and tongue poking out, the sight of you inviting him into your warmth while dressed so scantly and looking up at him with such confidence making it incredibly difficult for him to keep his composure. Here you are, his Queen, the ruler of an entire kingdom by birth right who possesses such elegance and high esteem, sitting below him and offering your throat for his pleasure. This is something that no one else in the entire world will ever see and he feels something similar to pride swelling in his chest at that fact. He knows what you are silently asking him to do, so he does not keep you waiting a second longer before inserting himself back into your mouth and easing his way in until your nose is nestled in the trimmed hair above his pubic bone.

Curses leave him in a continuous string as he takes time to adjust to the sensation, a lightness filling your head that makes you feel like you are floating through the clouds. And that feeling only increases when he starts to move, pulling his hips back for you to take in air through your nose before thrusting in again. Jimin fucks your mouth slowly at first, warming you up to it before he starts to get a bit rougher and visibly more eager, his lips sucked into his mouth as he glares down at you. In any other context, you would think him angry if he ever peered at anyone this intensely, but now you only feel the pool of arousal that builds in your core and gushes out of you at the intimidating glower. Still, his muscles are rigid with hesitance.

“May I go faster?” He breathes, never pulling out to free your mouth to respond. You moan out an answer as best you can, running your tongue against him in approval until he finally releases his tension and follows the urges of his body. He doesn’t aim deep into you, but his pace is quick, surely bruising your esophagus, yet you cannot bring yourself to be bothered. The sensation is indescribable, his hands cupping the back of your head and the sheer heat of his body almost overrides the lack of oxygen in your lungs— and simply imagining the pleasure he is feeling because of you has electricity shooting down to your core. Jimin has his eyes glued to the sight of his cock disappearing into your mouth, but they quickly shift when your hands find their way to your chest to pull down the bra just enough so your nipples poke out, both hands pushing your breasts together to give him a sight that almost causes him to lose his load right then and there. His hips lose control, stuttering and twitching as his eyes widen comically at the dream-like image of you, and he is forced to pull away after little over a minute of fucking your face. “Fuck-!”

“Is something the matter?” You ask innocently, knees screaming out from your sustained position. The veins in your husband’s hand bulge as he grips himself so tightly his knuckles turn white, his length jumping every time he opens his eyes to look at you. His use of hard profanity is enough to tell you how much you have unraveled him and you revel in the accomplishment.

“Get up here.” He pants, taking your arm in his free hand and helping you to your feet. You hear him click his tongue at the redness of your knees, but don’t have much time to dismiss it before his lips are on yours. Jimin kisses you deeply as if your face is not sloppy with saliva and his precum. He kisses you like it could save lives. And above every filthy thing you have done with him, this kiss is what makes you feel a bashful heat color your cheeks when he pulls you closer.

“Am I to assume I performed well?” You mumble against his lips, eyes crossing slightly to see his smile.

“You were outstanding. So much so that I nearly came down your pretty throat.” Smugly, Jimin unclips your bra, parting from your lips after several minutes of kissing to trace his tongue down your neck until he reaches your chest, forgoing all teasing to wrap his lips around a pert nipple.

“Oh-“ A surprised yelp leaves you and he has to use his strength to keep you from falling over, your legs suddenly feeling like jelly. Your fingers card through his drying hair, tugging at the unbothered man as he has his fun marking and sucking at you. As always, his mouth works miracles, but you have never felt anything like this before. Each swipe of his tongue around your nub has you moaning out his name, when he twists at the other nipple your head falls back in absolute bliss. He’s not doing anything extraordinarily notable, but it is like your body has reached a sensitivity that is completely new to you both. Jimin certainly is enjoying it immensely. His eyes are closed but you can see how they crinkle gleefully at the sides, his cheekbones high almost as if trying to conceal his amusement at your reactions. With puckered lips, he suctions one of your nipples before pulling back to speak.

“I can’t wait,” He grazes his teeth over your other tit before continuing. “-until these fill up with milk for our baby. I’m sure you will look incredible carrying our child inside you— even more amazing than you already look, my love. So round and plump... your cute little womb filled to the brim with my cum and baby.” Your eyes roll when one of his hands slips down your panties to tease at your lips. A growl resonates in his chest at the feel of your wetness. “You like the sound of that, don’t you? What would the people say if they found out that their elegant Queen got soaking wet just from sucking cock and thinking of getting her pussy stuffed full of cum? Hmm? Surely they will know how filthy you are once they see you swollen with my child, walking around the kingdom so shamelessly after getting marked by my seed. They’ll know just how good you’ve been for me, darling.”

“I want them to know I’m yours; I want to be pregnant with your baby so badly!” You sob, hips bucking into his hand as soon as he makes contact with your clit.

He soothes you with soft kisses along your face, ending with a lick to the corner of your mouth as you pant out loud moans for him. “I know, love. The time will come soon enough.”

Once again his lips return to your chest, and the combination of his mouth and fingers has your walls fluttering and clenching around nothing. Even after he removes his hand from your panties to hold you closer to him, you feel the building of an orgasm. Your body is completely taken by his tongue and teeth as they suckle cherry blossoms into your skin. And when his wet fingers travel up to twist at your unattended nipple, you feel your body careening off the edge unexpectedly.

“J-Jimin, I-“ Your sentence is cut short by a long whimper, mind going blank at the pleasure. You are able to feel how your walls snap open and closed, each pulse growing more intense as the high drags on for what seems like an eternity to you. Jimin groans at the sounds you make and he looks on in awe from where he still laves at your breast as you bite down on your lower lip to ground yourself. He doesn’t mind the way you tug at his roots in your bliss. The pain only adds to the throbbing of his cock.

“So sexy,” He murmurs as you regain your senses. You seem embarrassed, unable to meet his eyes, and he questions it.

“I have never-“ Averting your eyes to the ground, you look for words in your scrambled mind.

“You’ve never cum like that before?” For some reason you find it slightly humiliating and you have no idea why. Were you really that sensitive from not having sex with him for a few weeks? Your nipples were never that receptive before. Nodding in agreement, you hide your face until Jimin lifts your chin with his finger. “Do not shy away from me, My Queen. You look gorgeous when you cum.” Before you can process it, his hands are yanking down your ruined panties, drenched all the way through and dripping. Your back connects with the wall next to the mirror as you are pinned against the surface with his weight. His fingers slide over your clit and you jolt, attempting to close your legs, but he is faster and jams his thigh between yours to hold you open. “In fact, you look so good that I want to see you do it again.”

Without warning, he plunges 2 fingers knuckle deep into you, searching with little trouble for that spongey area inside you. You are wet enough to lubricate his fingers until he drips down his hand, the slick part of his palm beginning to rub harshly against your clit when his fingers curl upwards.

“Oh fuck,” You gasp brokenly when he reaches your spot. Feeling you clench, Jimin hums and goes to work massaging the area with the pads of his fingers, pressing his other hand to your lower stomach to increase the pressure. Since the first time you squirted he has been almost obsessed with the sight, working diligently to figure out how to make you do it again. There have been many nights dedicated solely to that cause— nights that you endured with bright red cheeks each time he made fun of your fucked out expression and hoarse voice— it is to the point where he now knows your every weakness and can manipulate your body with mastery. He knows exactly how much pressure you like when his fingers are deep inside you. He knows just the right way to massage that sensitive area to get you to fall apart again even if you feel overstimulated. He knows how to move his entire arm to hit that spot each time without fail, his technique flawless as he moves rapidly inside your clenching heat. Almost like a balloon filling with water, you feel another high building up in your core frighteningly fast and the lewd squelch coming from between your legs soon becomes the loudest noise in the room.

“Let go for me,” Jimin encourages into your skin, burying his face in the crook of your neck and panting hot breaths. It is easy to tell how easily he gets himself worked up when pleasuring you. His hard, wet cock twitches incessantly against your thigh, teasingly close to where you want him, and the feeling alone has you galloping closer to your second release. “You look so beautiful like this, pushed against a wall and taking my fingers. I bet you are just starving for my cock, aren’t you, My Queen? I’ll give it to you right after you cum for me. I want you to show me how badly you want it by soaking my arm with your sweet juices.”

The filthy words he feeds you only add to the hunger you feel for him. One of your legs lifts to wrap around his waist, pulling him closer as the balloon in your core continues to grow. Your heart is in your ears, beating rapidly, and you have no other choice but to listen to him and release your pleasure. With one synchronized prod of his fingers and circle around your clit, you descend into depraved ecstasy and let the balloon pop. You black out slightly, ears ringing and body numb to the world except for everywhere that your husband touches you, but you are aware of the satisfied moan he gives at your obedience. Whispers of delicate praises tickle your chest as he rests his forehead on your collarbone to watch you soil the floors and his lower half with your clear cum. The sound of it splashing and splattering against each nearby surface is quite embarrassing but you can’t bring yourself to think of it when your legs are shaking this hard and your body is tingling with joy.

“Good girl,” You hear Jimin groan, pulling his fingers from you to wrap his arms around your waist so you don’t topple over on your wobbly leg. He figures it may just be easier to keep you up if both of your legs are off the wet floor, so he moves your other leg to wind around his waist before carrying you out of the room and away from the mess to the bed.

Your glazed eyes take him in as he stands above you, a hand running through his disheveled hair as he studies you as well. His face is flushed and sweaty and his chest rises and falls quickly, but you’re sure that is only partly due to the effort he has just put in. There are claw marks on his shoulders and you gasp. You hadn’t realized you were gripping him so tightly, but he doesn’t seem to mind the marks at all, focused entirely on the throbbing member between his legs. Your eyes drop down his toned body to where his hand leisurely strokes up and down his shaft, purposely avoiding the tip to keep himself on the edge. It is almost purple with built up pressure, likely painful by this point, and you will yourself to move your weak limbs to reach out for him, pulling him closer to invite him between your open legs.

He takes his place at your center, one hand pressing into the soft mattress beside your head as he leans over you. You want him to kiss you so badly, but you want him inside you even more. He acquiescences this by sliding into you smoothly before swooping down for your lips.

“Mm~ Jimin!” The thick girth of his shaft stretches you perfectly, ignorant of your ticklish sensitivity as it searches for the deepest spot within you. In no time at all Jimin’s hips are flush with your ass, lips and tongue swallowing your moans into his own mouth.

“(Y/n)-“ He moans in response. Eyes squeezed tight, he forces himself to remain still. “I lose my breath every time I take this dripping pussy of yours. I’ll never get used to it.” Flattered, you hide your face with his by pulling him in for another kiss. The two of you stay like this for a long while, adjusting to each other’s bodies and basking in the intimacy of the moment.

“My love, please move.” You whine when the stillness becomes unbearable, yet you grieve at the loss of his heat when he leans away to pull you closer to the edge of the bed.

The first thrust of his hips already has you squirming. Your slick makes it so easy for him to pump into you that he barely has to put in any effort at all, his hips snapping sharply into you from the beginning. You let your legs fall farther apart at his sides and bite your lip when Jimin’s eyes land between your thighs, staring intently at the place where your bodies connect. You’re sure he can see everything, from the way your lips spread open around his wide member, to the shiny streaks of your arousal that quickly slick the inside of your thighs. It’s like you can feel his gaze caressing you, your body feeling sensitive everywhere he studies. You moan unabashedly at the sensation.

“Do you like it, My Queen? Does this feel good?” He prompts, eager for your praise.

“Y-yes, I-“ It has been so long without his cock inside you that you can’t think clearly. All you can do is shout his name and cling to the bedsheets as he wraps his arms around your thighs and holds them flush against his front. The angle makes you stutter, his tip touching somewhere sensitive that has your thighs squeezing closed. “P-please, harder. Use me.”

“Keep these fucking legs open.” Jimin growls, thrusting more harshly now. You attempt to follow his command and unclench your thighs, but they shake violently as soon as they part and it takes immense focus for you to hold them there. Looking up at your lover, you see the dark look that overtakes his features, dominance radiating off of him as he gets lost in you. You haven’t seen this look on him in a long while, but you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t sexy. He looks like he wants to eat you alive, devour you whole and leave not a morsel of you left until he’s had his fill.

Watching Jimin gain so much pleasure from you takes you to another level of bliss. His fingers dig into your thighs as he pounds his cock within your depths, determined to pull more desperate sounds from your throat, and his teeth bite down on his plush bottom lip in concentration. Sweat now trickles down his brow from the humid heat of the room, undoing the bath he took prior and replacing the soap with the scent of sex that leaks from his pores. This man is undeniably the hottest person you have ever laid eyes on and you can’t help but clench around him at the visuals he’s giving you.

Feeling you clench, Jimin moans, dragging his eyes up your figure until they land on your breasts. They jolt with every harsh thrust he gives you and dance flirtatiously in front of him— he can’t look away. Suddenly, he leans down and snatches up your hands, pinning them above your head with his fingers intertwined with yours, nearly drooling at how delectable you look under him. Your breasts certainly look different, the shape has become rounder and they jiggle slightly more than he can remember, but Jimin doesn’t think much of this as he focuses on delivering hard strokes. You shiver when his tongue licks a stripe up your damp neck, sucking a spot just below your ear before nibbling the lobe. He knows this is a weak spot for you, and just as he expected, your walls tighten around him once more. You push against him, trying to free your hands, but he has them locked sturdily in his grasp, silently forcing you to submit to him. You probably want to wind your fingers in his hair or grip onto his biceps, but he won’t give up an ounce of power at the moment. Not while he is ravaging you like this. So you settle for squeezing his hands and soaking in their warmth, gasping breathlessly as he takes you. You are entirely at his mercy and you absolutely love it.

One of his hands moves down to grip your thigh and push it open, unlocking you from where you have been clenched around his hips. Both of your wrists now held in one hand and still pinned against the sheets. The bed frame creaks noisily as he changes pace, abandoning his hard and fast thrusts for a slow and deep grind that has your eyes rolling to the back of your head. Something feels different about you, about the way you feel around him as the head of his cock licks at your cervix. It’s softer than usual and open for him, almost begging for his sperm, and he thinks this is the perfect time to get you pregnant. He aims to stay deep inside you. Each powerful movement is purposeful, everything down to the slight arch of his back that allows his pubic bone to grind into your clit, and you feel like you’re going crazy.

“Oh fuck, Jimin! I’m close again!” Your voice is strained in your throat and he smirks at the sound. He can feel it, the swell of your walls around him as you near your third high, and he swears it’s tighter than usual. Your muscles begin to tense up and push against him, preparing for your inevitable release. And just because you feel like pushing his buttons today, you allow your thighs to attempt to squeeze closed again.

“What did I say?!” The depth of his voice shocks you briefly and your eyes snap open to look at him. His jaw is tight as his stare bores into you with deadly intensity. “Keep your fucking legs open. Or do I have to hold them for you?” You let out a whimper, not daring to move your hands from their raised position when he drops your wrists to push open your other thigh, leaving you dripping and exposed in front of him. Your skin dimples where his fingertips dig into you— though he is careful not to bruise you— and he seems to hit even deeper like this. “You used to be so well behaved, My Queen. Are you acting out just to get a rise out of me?”

You dodge the question. “Please, Jimin, please make me cum again.” You can hardly hear anything aside from the slap of his balls against your ass and the squelch of his cock pushing through your warm walls.

“You think you deserve to cum? What will you do for it?” A dark chuckle leaves his throat when he sees you genuinely thinking of a response, biting so hard on your lip that he fears it might bleed.

“Anything.” You breathe. You’re unsure of how long you can hold back your orgasm, he feels so good fucking you like this, pushing his whole length into you without mercy.

“Anything, darling?” A lecherous grin plasters itself onto his mouth at your expression. “Hm, are you just saying that because you’re desperate? I can tell it feels good, you’re leaking all over me. Do you like it when I go deep like this?” You nod with a whine, eyelids pressed closed to hold back from cumming. “Open your eyes. Look at how deep I am inside you.” Peeling your eyes open, you peer down at yourself upon his command and see where his own eyes are glued. A small bulge presses against your lower abdomen every time he pushes in, disappearing when he pulls out only to reappear with the next thrust. Neither of you can take your eyes off of the sight, absolutely mesmerized by it.

“Please, I’m so close!” You groan loudly.

“You say you’ll do anything, my love?”

“Yes!”

“Will you be a good girl and let me put my baby in you? Let me cum right here against this fertile womb and get you pregnant with my baby?” The effect of his dirty talk is immediate and you clamp down on him, barely holding back as his hand rests over the bulge in your tummy, adding the tiniest amount of pressure to it.

“I will! Please!” Tears wet your doe eyes as you look up at him, digging your nails into the soft sheets above your head to keep from moving your arms from their position. He notes this with a hum, speeding up his hips in reward for your obedience.

“I know you will. Now cum.” On command, your body lets go of all the pent up pressure in your core, gripping onto his length with unbearable strength. Your walls pulsate with so much force that you nearly push him out, and when he finally pulls out of you, you squirt once again over the ledge of the bed. His hands on your legs do nothing to quell the wild tremors that overtake you and the streams of tears that flow over the apples of your cheeks. You are truly a sight to see, flushed red and glowing with the aftermath of yet another ferocious orgasm. Your sensitivity once again shocks him into silence. He didn’t even need to touch your clit for you to climax.

His stiff member bobs like a flagpole in the wind as he takes you in. It’s so hard that it stands straight up against his abdomen, jumping with its own pulse. When you open your eyes it is the first thing you see, and your body heats up again.

“Can you take any more, my love?” Jimin questions with concern, tracing his hands up your waist soothingly.

“Always. I can always take more of you.” Despite the screaming in your limbs, you sit up abruptly and pull him down to the bed, rolling the two of you over as you lock lips. Jimin seems surprised but not opposed to the shift in power dynamics, sensing that you want to take the reins for now. Your fingers wrap around his base and line him up with your slit, showing not even a moment’s hesitation before dropping down and knocking the wind out of both of you.

“You do not have to-“

“No, Jimin, I want to. I am supposed to be treating you after all, let me make you feel good.”

Fuck, you’re hot. Not only do you look amazing on top of him, but your pussy feels much hotter than usual. And it’s so tight, as if it’s greedy for every inch of him and eager to suck out his release. He won’t last long like this, that is for certain. His hands support you as you shift into a squat above him— and maybe it’s the novelty of the position, but he swears it’s never felt this good before.

“I imagined this so many times, but I never thought I’d actually get to see you riding me like this.” He confesses in a strained breath. You press your palms into his chest to lift yourself up, lowering yourself experimentally before repeating the action with less restraint.

“Am I living up to your expectations?” It could just be the angle, but his cock feels unbelievably deep inside you, and you half expect it to hurt yet you feel no pain. There is not even the slightest bit of discomfort as he nudges at your womb and you attribute this to the three incredible orgasms you have already reached tonight.

“God, yes.” He can’t look away from where you impale yourself on him, your shaky legs spread wide to let him see every second of the erotic display. From the way you grip him every time you lift up, to the strings of your arousal and cum that weave a sticky web between your ass and his pelvis, and even to the way your clit swallows in delight, he almost goes lightheaded as he takes it all in. His throat bobs as he gulps, back arching off the sheets under your warm hands.

“Faster?”

You don’t wait for a response before you start speeding up. He’s close, you can feel it in the way he swells against your walls and see it in the way his neck and chest color that pretty pink color you adore so much. Your limbs are aching for relief and it takes all of your remaining energy to keep up your efforts, but you wouldn’t dream of stopping. No, you are determined to bring Jimin to his end no matter what. The high pitched moans he lets out for your ears only are more than enough motivation to keep going, but you are working for a prize much more valuable that the lovely sounds he makes for you. You want his cum. You want it so badly that it is the only thing you can think of, so despite the pain in your fragile legs as you bounce yourself as hard and fast as you can, you continue for him. You’ve never been afraid to put in a little effort, and this is something you are willing to work for.

“(Y/n), I’m gonna cum!” Jimin’s dialect shines through strongly as he grits his teeth through the pleasure you bombard him with. You know it must feel different for him, the pleasure is always so much more intense when you aren’t the one doing all the work, and this is the first time you’ve pinned him down like this. It’s the first time you’ve dropped yourself down to clamp your knees on either side of him and wrap yourself around his upper body as you pant into his neck, leaving sloppy kisses and coaxing him toward his high with whispered words. Now that the roles are reversed, you can see just how wrecked he is for you— the usually composed king now lies spread in a heap of matted hair, sweaty skin, and bitten lips, completely speechless and grasping onto your thighs in a desperate bid to hold onto his sanity. “Please, I- I-“

“Cum for me, My King,” You are sure your body has just about reached its limit, but you feel no pain or fatigue when you look into your lover’s eyes and find an unraveled man. “I promised I would take your cum and let you get me pregnant. Give it all to me, my love, I want it. Cum inside me, Jimin.”

Bucking his hips, Jimin loses all control and throws his head back in anticipation as he aids your movements with his strong arms. When he feels your lips on his chin, he leans forward and allows you to swallow his groans of pleasure, both of you starved for breath but unwilling to pull away from the kiss. Everything you have done for him tonight— wearing sexy lingerie, getting on your knees to please him, squirting not once but twice— culminates into this one moment and he doesn’t think he can take take it. It’s all too much. With three sharp thrusts from both of you, he climaxes with a shout, lifting you up along with him as his hips rise off the bed.

“Oh fuck!” Maybe you shouldn’t feel this way, but you giggle giddily at the state of rapture he’s in because of you. The veins in his neck pop out of his skin as he dumps spurt after spurt of his semen into you, and you think this is the biggest load he’s ever given you. It takes a long time for him to come down from his high and for a moment you wonder if he will be okay with the way he twitches and shivers as your hips roll to a stop.

He doesn’t seem to mind your weight resting on top of him, nor does he react to the light kisses you press to his drenched skin. He does, however, wrap his arms securely around you when you shift to roll off of him, holding you on top of his body until you both have caught your breath and can open your heavy eyelids enough to look at each other with tired smiles.

“I love you.” You grin, running your digits through his disheveled mop of hair.

“I love you more, My Queen.” He pulls you down for another kiss to silence whatever rebuttal you surely have prepared at the tip of your tongue because he knows what you will say. And the thought makes his heart swell.

It seems like hours pass before both of you can work up the strength to part from each other. You have to be carried to the bathroom because your limbs feel far too weak and Jimin is not yet willing to let you go from his embrace. He is mindful of the puddle that you left on the floor as he carries you to the bath, and both of you sink into the depths together to wash away all your sins. You stay like that until your toes are pruned and the water is slightly cooler than lukewarm, the time flying by as you talk freely about everything you can think of: your hopes for your future family, your day with Jackson and Lena, gossip about Lilian and her whereabouts— she has not yet returned to the lodge even at this late hour and you hope that she is safe, but more importantly, you hope that her night with that handsome male servant ends similarly to yours. She could afford to take tonight and tomorrow off to unwind a bit, you feel a tad guilty that her needs may be neglected in the kingdom as she tends to you nonstop in the castle. Sleep finds you both easily and you cannot drop the smile from your cheeks as you cuddle up with the man you love.

This afternoon would have been perfect if not for the way you were feeling. Sparse clouds float through the sunny blue sky, the mountains surrounding you blossoming with vibrancy, but the beautiful scenery is dulled in your bleary eyesight. The lightheadedness you’d felt upon arrival two days ago has returned, along with a pounding headache that dampens your mood.

Jimin and Jackson walk ahead of their queens, talking casually as though they had been friends for years. The sight makes your heart grow warm and you use it to distract you from your discomfort as you walk along the outside pathways to a different section of the enormous castle. Lena notices the shift in your demeanor fairly quickly, commenting that you look less energized than yesterday.

“Did you not sleep well last night?” She implores, her brow creased with worry.

“I had a very restful sleep last night, but it feels like my body is dragging behind.” You try to keep yourself from rubbing at your face. Royals are not supposed to show weakness and vulnerability in public, and even though you are only surrounded by Kyungsoo and a few of Lena’s servants, you wish to uphold your appearances. “I do not feel sick, however, so I do not think it is caused by illness.”

“Would there be any other reason for you to feel fatigued? We did spend quite a considerable amount of time in the heat yesterday.”

“Well,” The guards and servants lag behind you far enough for them not to hear your conversation, but you still lower your voice in modesty. “Jimin and I were intimate late into the evening...” You figure your late night activities are also the reason for the tenderness you feel in your breasts, your tight undergarments causing slight pain as they bind your chest.

“Ah, I see!” She beams back at you, giggling. “You were not used to such strenuous exercise. I have experience with that— one time Jackson kept me in bed for so long that I nearly fainted from dehydration! Jimin seems like he would have a lot of stamina, be careful with that one.” The wiggle of her eyebrows lifts your spirits a bit. Speaking of such lewd subjects is seen as unladylike, especially for royalty, but you find yourself uncaring of that when you are with Lena. You have never had a woman of your same age and status to converse with before, no one could ever relate or felt comfortable enough to speak freely with you. This closeness you have with her is a novel feeling— and it is likely that Jimin feels the same with Jackson.

“I’ll be sure to be mindful of that.” You smile, staring at the back of his head. Your husband turns to look at you when he feels your eyes as he passively listens to the other King recall a story, sending a wink your way before returning his attention to the man beside him.

“Is there any other possible explanation for your symptoms?” Redirecting your gaze to Lena, you catch how her eyes flicker down to your stomach, a small smile on her lips. As soon as you realize her meaning, you stiffen, legs nearly bringing you to a halt.

“No,” Your eyes fall to the ground. “I... do not think it is pregnancy. Before I departed from home I was examined by my doctor and she-“ You sigh. “I am not pregnant.”

“Hmm. Well, I have been pregnant 4 times and have experienced many symptoms with each of my children. What you described to me sounds familiar. Do not dismiss the idea just yet, (Y/n).”

Before you can even open your mouth to form a reply, you are hit with a wave of dizziness that makes the world spin. Kyungsoo is by your side in an instant, stabilizing you as someone asks if you are alright. You are led to a nearby bench where all of the servants crowd around you, Jimin rushing over when he hears the commotion.

“(Y/n)?! What’s the matter?” The world spins a little less when your eyes are closed, so you do not look up at him, but you can imagine the almost sickly worry covering his lovely face. You know he has been especially traumatized by the events of your wedding and you never want to put him in a situation like that again, but you can’t help the way your body feels. Distantly, you hear Jackson order a servant to get the doctor, footsteps skittering away as he comes to squat down in front of you.

“Are you ill?” Jackson’s voice calms the anxiety you weren’t aware you were feeling. It is frightening not knowing what’s going on with your own body. Lena’s words ring in your mind.

“N-no, it is just the altitude. I just need to rest for a minute.” Your excuse is almost convincing, but no one moves— except for Jimin, who moves closer to you on the bench to support your back. After a few minutes, your head begins to clear, though your vision remains blurry. Eyes silently peer at you from all sides and you can feel them hot on your skin, embarrassment now the prominent emotion you feel. “Please do not worry about me, I am fine, really.”

“Are you certain? We can rest here for a little while longer.” Jimin suggests gently, but for some reason this irritates you.

“I said I’m fine.” You snap, earning an even more concerned look from him. Just then, the doctor approaches, slightly out of breath and sweating. “I don’t need a doctor! I’m feeling better already. Look.” You no longer feel dizzy anymore so you attempt to stand, rising quickly from the seat to come face to face with Jackson as he rises as well. Jimin still has his arm around you, both men watching you closely. “See?” But as soon as you’re stable on your feet, the spinning returns as if on cue and you come toppling forward into Jackson’s arms, everything going black.

“You don’t need to do this, Jackson, I told you I feel okay now.” You grumble as he carries you to the infirmary inside the castle. He took you into his arms without hesitation when you fell, offering to carry you because Jimin was rapidly descending into distress. While you were only out for about 2 minutes before you regained consciousness, everyone had reacted as if you were dying.

Looking at your husband now, you can see how unnerved he has become. Because he is a General who has seen many battles, he has trained himself not to react emotionally in stressful situations— but you can read the look in his eyes as clear as day as he walks alongside you, watching you more closely than what is in front of him.

“That is what you said earlier, and then you fainted immediately afterwards. Do not worry, I don’t mind carrying you. I needed a little exercise today anyway.” Always a jokester, you crack a smile at his comment, rolling your eyes as the doctor leads him into a room to rest you on the bed. The doctor works quickly, taking a blood sample from you and leaving for the lab, having already taken your vitals when you initially passed out. “We’ll be waiting outside.” With that, Jackson takes Lena’s shaky hand and exits the room, leaving you in bed and Jimin hovering over you awkwardly.

“Please sit down, you are making me nervous.” You breathe. He blinks and nods absently, perching himself on the edge of the bed next to you. “Are you okay?”

“I should be asking you that.” He laughs dryly. Jimin bites his lip when you give him a sympathetic gaze and take his hand. Your words from the argument you had nearly a month ago echo in his head. This is a chance for him to open up to you about his emotions and seek your comfort, your expression shows that you are expecting it of him, so he takes a deep breath. There’s no use hiding his emotions from you. “Truth be told, I am a wreck. You fainting brought back some rather unpleasant memories.” He confesses.

“I’m sorry.” You really are apologetic, stressing him out is the last thing you ever wanted to do.

“It is not your fault. I just worry about you so much. I cannot bear to lose you, my love, and I feel so helpless when things like this happen, it feels like I always have to wait for others to come to rescue you.”

“Would you like to become a doctor so you are more prepared, then?” He wasn’t expecting that response and snaps his head up to look at you when you laugh. “You cannot control everything that happens to me, Jimin. It is okay to let others help. All I need is for you to stay by my side, your presence is more than enough.” He nods at this, accepting the kiss you plant on his cheek and squeezing your hands.

Long seconds of silence pass as you wait for the doctor to return. Then, a sudden thought pops into your mind that makes you groan aloud.

“Lilian is going to be pissed at me.” You can’t help but chuckle at the circumstances.

“Why is that?”

“I told her to take off today and enjoy her time here, but she was worried about me so she initially refused. I assured her of my health this morning before we left. I can only imagine to look on her face once she finds out what happened.” You do feel a bit bad, Lilian knows you better than anyone and it is clear that she could tell something was off, but you convinced her that her instincts were wrong and now you find yourself in the infirmary. She will surely put herself down over this incident because of her absence when you most needed her.

“You can worry about her after we confirm that you are okay. For now, let us focus on this.” Just then, the doctor enters the room again, coming to stand at the bottom of the bed as you and Jimin look up at them with expectant eyes. Your heart pounds in your chest. You’ve become so used to hearing bad news from doctors, you are almost conditioned to be nervous and guarded around them.

“(Y/n), I have determined the cause of your sudden collapse.” Jimin squeezes your hand tighter and you can feel the sweat on his fingertips. “It appears that you are pregnant! Congratulations! The blood tests showed high levels of-“

“Pardon?” You interject with a raspy voice. Your brain is having a hard time processing the words and you blink slowly for a few seconds, unaware of Jimin’s shell shocked expression. “I- H-how can this be? My physician tested me right before I left and she said I was not pregnant.”

“Well, it is entirely possible to get false negative results, especially when it is early in the pregnancy. I don’t think it reflects poorly on your physician, these things just happen sometimes and are completely out of our control. But looking at my test results and the symptoms you have been experiencing, I am certain that you are about 6 weeks pregnant.”

“B-but I bled last month.”

“For how many days?”

“One or two...”

“Then that was likely implantation bleeding, which is to be expected. Dizziness and even fainting are also fairly common symptoms, so there is no particular need to worry about today’s incident— though I recommend that you make sure to get adequate rest and nutrition to avoid complications in the future. Once again, congratulations.”

Finally, you drag your gaze over to your husband who has been silent since the doctor appeared, and his eyes are filled to the brim with tears when they connect with yours.

“You- (Y/n), you’re finally pregnant!” He whispers, and the way his voice cracks causes the dam to break within yourself and all of your emotions come flooding out. Before you know it you’re wrapped in his embrace, both of you simultaneously sobbing and laughing into each other’s necks from pure joy and surprise as the doctor excuses themselves from the room. It is like all of the building frustration from the past several months has been crushing you slowly and now that weight has been lifted, allowing you to breathe freely for the first time. Jimin feels similarly. He has been holding back so many of his emotions since you first started trying to get pregnant and that has taken a tremendous toll on his mind and body, but for the first time, he can finally release those emotions and let himself feel the heaviness of it all. He is crying harder than you are, soaking the top of your dress as you cradle his head to you and hold him there. His hands ghost over your waist and lower abdomen so delicately, as if protecting the growing life inside of you.

When you’ve both gotten yourselves together enough to allow Jackson and Lena to visit, they rush in without hesitation.

“Is everything okay?” Lena is by your side first, immediately noticing your red and puffy eyes. You’re a little bit hesitant to tell her because you know she’ll gloat about her “sixth sense”.

“Yes, I’m alright. We just found out that I am pregnant.” The room erupts into noise, the two of them sounding like an entire circus as Jackson nearly jumps on Jimin in a bear hug and Lena squeals excitedly beside you.

“I knew it! You dismissed me so offhandedly and it turns out that I was right! I have a sixth sense for these things, you know; you should trust me more often.” Just as expected.

“And here you were, just telling me how worried you were about not yet yielding an heir to the throne,” Jackson throws a heavy arm over Jimin’s shoulder. “I suppose we should celebrate before you depart in the morning. I will throw a lovely ball tonight in your honor!”

“Oh, I must oversee the preparations then! Get some rest, (Y/n), and congratulations again!” And just like that, the couple is gone, rushing back out of the room and leaving you and your husband giggling.

“I am sorry, Lilian.” You apologize for what feels like the thousandth time. She continues to pout as she helps load your belongings into the carriage, barely sparing you a glance.

“I knew I should have stayed; I had a feeling something would happen.” She turns to scowl, not necessarily at you but it is in your direction. “I cannot believe I missed such a huge announcement as well! Both Jackson and Lena found out before me, this is so unfair.”

“You sound like a child,” You snicker, taking Kyungsoo’s hand as he helps you into the carriage behind Jimin.

“Yes, well I think I am allowed to throw a tantrum just this once.” You catch Kyungsoo crack a grin at her, the first time you’ve seen any emotion from him, and it brings a smile to your own face.

“If it makes you feel any better, Kyungsoo found out after Jackson and Lena, too.” Jimin comments, taking your hand and pulling you into his side.

“It does not make me feel better because he still found out before me!”

The sun is still low in the sky but slowly rises as you depart from the kingdom. Once you return to the castle, there are many duties that you must take care of, and many traditional processes you will have to go through now that you are pregnant— you are carrying a possible future heir to the throne after all. But you have never been happier. For now it still feels surreal, even though you have waited nearly a year for this moment, but as soon as the people of your kingdom come to greet you and celebrate the news of your conception, the reality of the situation will hit and you are sure you will be overwhelmed with new challenges. Pregnancy is not an easy thing, but at least you will have Jimin with you to help you through it all, just as he has always done. You rest your head on his shoulder with a mischievous grin.

“So Lilian, how was your date the other night? You seemed rather cozy with that young man at the ball yesterday evening.”

“It was not a date!”

[thatharringrovehoe]

So I've been playing Dishonored which is my favorite game and this popped into my head so now you all have to suffer with me. (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*.✧

He's so fucking cold. Like he’s been plunged into a lake mid winter and can’t find his way to the surface. Hands shaking, Billy sifts clumsily through the box of his mother’s things he keeps hidden in the back of his closet. He's found that if he thinks about the good times, picnics at the beach under the California sun, the thing oozing it's way though his brain losses just a bit of it's grip. Leaves Billy with enough motor function to stumble around his bedroom, trying to find the right pieces. And fucking hell it’s been so long since he's done this. He can remember helping his Ma when he was little, chubby fingers clenched tight in her cotton sundress as she arranged the items on the table just right. Pricked her finger to draw sigils in a language long forgotten, her voice a soft cadence through the bedroom as she hummed Billy’s favorite lullaby. No words, just a beautiful mournful thing. Humming a song of grieving loss. Billy doesn't know why he likes it so much.

“Remember baby. When you offer your gifts they have to be special. Well loved. Something that brings you joy every time you use it.”

His mother kept a pair of earrings on the cloth covered table. She never wore them when his father was home. Took them out and put them back on the little rickety stand in the back of her closet every day before he came back from work. Dangling silver daggers with the onyx beads. Billy shoved one straight through his left earlobe when he turned fifteen and has barely taken it out since.

His Ma told him that everything he built his shrine with had to mean something. Had to be something he treasured. From the fabric to the stand itself. So Billy tried his best. Draped his best leather jacket over the milk crate that held all of his favorite hair products. Placed his Ma's Fleetwood Mac album next to one of his mother's silver earrings (the one he always wears), arranged as neatly as he can manage. He’d had to prick his thumb seven times because to his dawning horror it kept healing over. Just another tally mark towards something being really fucking wrong. And he remembers the warehouse. Can still feel the slimy caustic sludge being pumped down his throat by a fucking tentacle. But he’d hoped it had been a dream, a nightmare from reading to many Lovecraft novels. Billy curses as he slices open his thumb for what feels like the millionth time.

Apparently not.

He's drawn the characters just how he remembers. His mother had made him practice every day, showing him each and every shape and line, drawn in colorful crayon. She gave him a cookie every time he got them right. Never hung them up on the fridge though. Didn't want his father to see.

He can feel the shadow creeping through his blood, dragging it’s claws against his veins. It might not know exactly what he’s doing yet, but it must be able to feel the intention. Billy thinks of ocean waves and a soft hand running through his curls. Fights the pull at the back of his mind to just give in. To sleep. His hands shake harder.

Fuck, where is it?! Billy combs through records and trinkets, a bottle of her perfume. He’s desperately hoping it didn't get lost in the move because his mother never taught him how to make one. Hell, he's pretty certain that he wouldn't be able to find the pieces he needs in Hawkins anyway. Not like Melvalds has a supernatural voodoo isle.

Then finally, finally he finds it. Lifting up his mother’s satin scarf it comes tumbling out to land on the floor with a clatter. Bleached white and beaten smooth by the waves, it's about the size of a sand dollar. Billy picks it up, places it in the palm of his hand. He still remembers the day he found it out on the shore. Washed up between some sea glass, the leather bindings still somehow soft even soaked with salt water. Etched with symbols and shapes Billy will never understand. When Billy showed it to his mother an unreadable expression crossed her face. It was that evening she showed him her shrine.

The rune seems to hum against his skin, an otherworldly song from far away ghosting past his ears. The thing that’s trying to Shanghai Billy’s brain writhes. It's angry, but more than that it’s fucking terrified and Billy has never been more sure of anything in his life. This was a good idea. But his limbs are getting colder, heavier. Whatever this evil piece of shit is it doesn’t like what Billy’s doing. He has to fight against the deadening of his limbs, crawling towards his shitty attempt at a shrine from his place on the floor. His vision is starting to grow dark when he finally clutches on to the milk crate, placing the rune between the earring and his cassette tape. And he knows that there's no guarantee. That whatever his Ma prayed to every night never shielded her from Neil’s fists, didn’t do a damn thing as the cancer slowly drained her down to nothing. That sometimes (most times) when someone would call out to the void the only thing they heard in return was their own disappointment. But he's got no other options. This is his trump card. His last resort. If this hocus pocus bullshit doesn’t work then Billy is up shit creek without a paddle. With a frustrated shout against the nightmare pulling him in, Billy begs.

“Please! Fuck, help me! I'll do anything, c’mon just- please!”

The air in Billy’s bedroom all of a sudden seems to shudder. The shadows flicker and meld together, reaching outwards. The sound of dry fall leaves blowing in the wind, a wail of a thousand dying worlds ricochets off the walls. Then nothing. Billy scrunches his eyes shut against the sting of tears. Fuck, of course it didn’t work. Story of his life. He called for help and just like always it doesn't mean shit. No one is coming to save him.

“Well well well. Certainly been a long time since someone summoned me like that. Very old school.”

Billy’s eyes snap open, the surprise and adrenaline enough to fight the heaving weight of his limbs to raise his head. And there, perched on his shitty milk crate shrine, sits the most beautiful boy he's ever seen. He's got hair the color of soil after it rains. High cheekbones and full lips, milky white skin dotted with a constellation of beauty marks. Billy didn't know what he expected but it certainly wasn't this. The boy god is dressed in a swanky leather coat the color of charcoal with pants to match. Eyes like an oil spill, inky black and endless. With a good look at Billy, they narrow dangerously.

“I thought I fucking told you not to touch this world. You want a repeat of last time?”

Whatever deity he summoned looks pissed as hell. Did he not do it right? Maybe the items weren’t good enough. That would be just his luck. He's so confused he almost doesn’t notice it right away. The shadow slowly working it’s way through his body has stopped, retreated a little even.

“I-... I don't know what you’re talking about. Please, there's something wrong with me. Something got put inside of me and I need it out. Please, help me.”

Billy hasn’t begged since his Ma was takin her last breath in that damn hospice bed. Didn't see the point when it always got you nowhere. But now he can't make himself stop. Cuz he's never been this scared before. The things this monster inside him wants him to do. It's so strong, like he’s fighting a steam roller. He's got no hope on his own.

The boy sitting on his best leather jacket stills. Cocks his head to the side slightly, considering. Then those pretty pink lips are spreading out into a gleeful smirk. Slides off the shrine to settle on his knees in front of Billy. Reaches out his hand to cup Billy’s jaw gentle enough it makes him want to cry.

“You can't get a good enough hold of this one can you? Interesting. Tell me trouble maker, what's your name?”

That voice, deep and ethereal, seems to echo from all around him. He can feel it vibrate in his bones. He wants, no, needs to answer.

“Billy. Billy Hargrove.”

The boy smiles now, all gleaming pearly whites. If Billy looks long enough reality starts to flicker. And for just a second all he can see is teeth sharp like knives in a Cheshire grin. There for a moment and gone in a flash. The hand on his jaw tightens just the slightest fraction.

“Well Billy Hargrove. You seem to find yourself in quite the predicament. That parasite sucking on your soul is an old acquaintance of mine. He's one nasty little shit.”

If a brain washing shadow monster could feel indignant he’s pretty sure that’s what's happening now. Whatever was hijacking Billy's mind has curled up somewhere tight, sunk it’s teeth in deep. Cornered like a threatened animal.

“Please, I’ll do anything you want. I can’t… I can’t fight it. It's too much.”

There’s enough tears leakin down his face that it's soaking the front of his shirt. The boy is giving him this look, almost amused. The longer he holds Billy’s jaw the more the monster losses his grip, and Billy is ready to do anything at this point. Because that thing stuck to his brain wants him to find people. Feed it people. Wants Billy to drink all the chemicals in the supply shed at the pool. Told Billy that if he tried to fight it would take Max first and he can't let that happen.

The boy seems to come to a decision, grabs Billy’s hands to help him shakily to this feet. He doesn’t let go even when they’re both standing.

“You know there’s not many who can fight his hold for this long. I'm impressed.”

He steps forward until his chest is practically pressed up against Billy's. He smells like ozone and smoke, bottomless black eyes trained on stormy blue. Reaches up to tangle his fingers into Billy’s curls, sending tingles across his scalp. Smiles wider at the small noise that escapes Billy's throat.

“I'll help you Billy Hargrove. But in return, you have to do something for me.”

Billy's nodding before he can even really register what’s being said. Anything. He'd do whatever this pretty boy asked as long as he keeps touching Billy like this. Gentle, with a reverence no one has ever bothered to show.

“I need you to kick this little shit back into the hole he crawled out of. Can you do that for me Billy? I wanna see how your story pans out trouble maker. Wanna see what you do when someone gives you a chance.”

Billy nods again, breathless. The boy chuckles, the sound saccharine. Like warm honey dripping down his spine.

“Gunna have to use your words baby.”

Billy swallows, the click of his dry throat loud in the warm personal bubble they’ve created.

“Yes. Yeah. I’ll do it. Whatever you want pretty boy, please.”

It comes out a whisper but the boy hears it all the same. The boy smiles bright, pulls Billy forward. Soft warm lips press against his own and Billy is floating. He's never been kissed like this before. Slow and deep, the boy's tongue pressing in to curl and slide. Stuff him full. Billy's shaking for a whole other reason now. Reaches out to grip the boy's coat, cool to the touch where Billy is burning. Fire rushing through his veins, and he's already so close just from this. Whimpers brokenly into the kiss.

The boy pulls him in impossibly closer, slots his thigh between Billy’s legs, pushes up up up. And Billy is right fucking there, grinds down as he swaps spit with an old god in his shitty bedroom with the peeling yellow paint and the door that locks from the outside. Can feel the tell tale tingle spreading behind his navel.

“ ‘m gunna cum! Fuck, more please!” Billy mumbles curses into the kiss, breath hitching as his balls draw tight. The boy smiles against his mouth, yanks his curls back to bite into the meat of his neck and Billy’s gone, pulsing rope after rope of cum into his underwear.

“Oh my- .. Fuuuuuck. Yes! Uhhhnn!” He's panting like a dog as he slumps forward into the boys shoulder. Gentle fingers card through his hair as aftershocks zap up and down his body. A kiss is pressed behind his ear, a soft warmth flooding his core. He can't feel the shadow anywhere.

“So good for me sweet thing. Makes me want to keep you.”

It's said so quiet, like the boy doesn’t intend for it to be heard. Billy presses his face into his neck. There's no heartbeat under the boy's skin.

“You could. I want you to.” Whoever this is, whatever he is, he came for Billy. Answered his literal cry for help when no one else did. He doesn't know what he has to offer but he wants to give this impossible boy everything.

The boy in question hums. Brings Billy's left hand up to kiss the back of it. His skin feels hot under his lips, bordering on uncomfortable. Like stepping on sun scorched pavement. When the boy pulls back there’s a tattoo on his hand. A strange design that looks vaguely like a compass. It's the same mark as the one on the middle of the rune sitting behind them.

“I haven't given my mark to someone quite so special in a while. Try not to disappoint me Billy Hargrove.”

The boy goes to pull away but Billy still has his hand clenched tight on his coat. Panic wells up in his chest. Doesn't want to end whatever this is quite yet.

“Wait! What’s-…what's your name?” Which is a valid question he thinks. And probably one he should have asked at some point before he started grinding his dick on the guys leg. Oh well.

“I've had many names, none if which would hold any significance for you. Call me what you want trouble maker. I'll be there when you need me.”

Billy believes him. Then between one blink and the next the boy is gone, tendrils of dissipating smoke the only evidence he was ever there. A deep voice whispers from nowhere and everywhere.

“Ask your sister about the monsters in the woods.”

On the shrine the only thing that remains is the rune, both his gifts having apparently been accepted. Billy gives a hysterical bark of laughter at the thought of some higher being listening to Fleetwood Mac somewhere out in the void. It gives him an idea. He drags his lips across the fresh mark on his hand, mumbles into his skin.

“Thanks Stevie.”

[bacchicly]

HEARTS CAN BE BIGGER THAN THEY FEEL

NOTE: I think this version is better - but if you are not up to the sadness - I've also posted an alternative happy version here

Pairing: Penelope Garcia x Luke Alvez (Post season 15, Established Relationship)

CM TROPE BINGO 2022 PROMPT: HURT / COMFORT

Content Warnings: Death of Pet (Established Pet Character), Grief, Stomach Flu, Description of a hasty proposal and an even hastier wedding

Words: 3850

Luke sits on the floor leaning against the velvet red and purple couch they bought together last year for their new place. He loves how soft it is and that, even though it looks fancy, it is so unbelievably comfortable. Perfect for an afternoon nap or late night T.V. and snuggles on the couch.

He has one unlaced running shoe on and his other foot is bare - it makes him feel disproportionately unbalanced and kind of feral - but he doesn't do anything to rectify his outer state - it feels too aligned with what's going on inside.

Besides he's too numb to move and...

Was I putting my shoes on?

Or taking them off?

He's not really sure.

Well that's not good.

He is both thinking - feeling - everything and nothing….

….and that leaves nothing but numb chaos crowding in on all sides.

One hand lies limp and heavy at his side, while the other is squeezing a bone - a bone he'd taken away from Roxy because he was worried it was too splintered - so tightly that it feels that he might have punctured his palm on a sharp edge.

His face is a mask and pain shoots through his temples and jaw.

Why has this hit him now?

It's the first time he's been alone in the house for more than a few hours since it happened - but that shouldn't matter - it was months and months ago - five months since that day at the vet....

He's grieved.

He's made his peace.

It wasn't even that hard…

Ha.

All he knows is he is so numb and he can't quite remember how he ended up in this spot...in this state...

A pack of shoulds and should nots crash over him - he should take controlled breaths - he should relax his hand - put down the bone - he should not be so hard on himself - he should not clench his jaw - he should not cry - he should choose one simple next step to do...move...take action...shake it off...

But it doesn't matter - all his training, sense, ability has fled - left him high and dry - alone, confused, and hurting. It is physical and disorienting and worse because he hadn't expected it - thought he was through the sadness and grief...

Penelope will be home in three days.

You just have to make it three more days.

It's not a big deal.

You'll even talk to her tonight before bed like always.

Get up.

Why?

Go for a run.

No.

Invite over a friend.

No.

Oh for…

Stop wallowing you stupid ass!

It's not like she was a person…

Shut the fuck up...she was better than a damn person...

Shut up. Shut up. Shut up.

You're an adult.

An adult who has gone through worse.

Much worse.

By whose fucking standards?

Guilt crashes over him.

EVERYONE'S.

MINE.

But...then why is this grief so much worse than anything he has felt before…

He ignores the little voice in the back of his head repeating all the things Penelope whispered when it happened…while she held him that night as he sobbed and tears streaked her face... that loving a pet was just as big as loving a person - that it was a strange mix of loss - part best friend - part innocent dependant - and harder in some ways because other people - especially those who have never lost a pet don't acknowledge it as a big deal - so people are inclined to minimize their own feelings...that she was there and they would miss Roxy together.

They would never stop loving her.

Beside him on the floor his cell phone begins to vibrate to show a call is coming through.

Luke doesn't move. He lets the phone sputter to a stop. Then vibrates once more - briefly - to tell him whoever called probably left a message.

All he knows is it's not work - and it wasn't Penelope - or at least it shouldn't be... he's pretty sure he put on the setting so that his cell is set to ring and not vibrate for those numbers.

Would I have picked up if it had rung?

He doesn't know.

So the universe tests him…

His phone starts to vibrate again and this time the ringtone sounds - an instrumental version of Kermit's "Rainbow Connection" that starts imperceptibly quiet and then grown in volume if he doesn't pick up joins the fray - telling him that without a shadow of a doubt it's Penelope calling.

He wants to pick up.

He needs to hear her voice so badly.

But…

But…

….despite screaming silent instructions in his head to his body to "MOVE! PICKUP!"...

...Luke doesn't...can't…. move an inch…

The call gets kicked to voicemail just as the music swells to the part where Kermit would sing:

Who said that every wish would be heard and answered…

In the past he's chuckled at the irony...but today it just makes him want to howl...but even though howling would be a relief…he does nothing...just keeps sitting there...stuck…

He closes his eyes…

...which makes the pain in the hand on the bone sharpen and fill his senses...but he can't bring himself to care.

Three days… she'll be back in three days…

...maybe there will be a case…

Guilt crashes over him again. He can't believe he just hoped for a case and all it entails as a distraction from his grief.

His brain keeps circling - seeing her run and pant and do all her doggy things.

His body aches with missing his dog.

Roxy.

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

Penelope looks at her phone with a frown.

She calls so rarely… texts are their usual "go to"... that it's unusual for him not to pick up… in fact she had felt guilty for calling without the preamble of a text… she's not even sure why she did just go straight to dialing… so she can't help but feel a prickle of worry between her shoulder blades.

It's not that she and Luke live in each other's pockets - far from it - but this morning he had said he was just going to be hanging around the house today… and it's not an emergency… she just has a question that would be better to talk about vs text about...

Oh well. He's probably just working out or in the shower or fixing something in the backyard or having a well deserved nap… nothing to worry about.

Penelope resists pulling up the app she designed and installed for them that can - among other things - track his phone's location..

...she's put several passwords on the app to make it harder for her to use on a whim, told Luke all about it, installed a version on his phone that he can use to track her, and set it so that an automatic notification that she's used it gets sent to his work email...all in the spirit of just because she can do something...doesn't mean she should...

...and instead quickly thumb types a text:

Just called to ask a non-urgent question. NO NEED TO WORRY all is good here. Did Tara get in touch? Meetings are done for the day - just hanging out in my room for a rest - then the plan is for us all to meet up for dinner around 7. 💖 Hope you are having an amazing day off! Are you up to anything fun? Miss you! Love you! xoxoxo

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

Luke isn't sure but from the slant of the afternoon sun streaming through the window - he thinks he's been sitting here for at least an hour. The only thing that's changed is he finally relaxed his hand which was holding the bone and now bone and hand are slumped numb and motionless in his lap.

Since the fanfare of Penelope's follow up text - which was enough to convince him it wasn't an emergency - his phone has lain silent and still beside him on the floor.

Maybe I am coming down with something?

But no…

This is just an unexpected debilitating attack of grief… understandable… if irritating… ok worse than irritating… but maybe it's right.

Maybe I made grieving for Roxy too easy...too quick...

Maybe she deserved more and if his conscious self wasn't going to give it to him - maybe his unconscious self had taken on the mantle…

Fair enough.

Just then Sergio appears as if out of nowhere. The black cat cautiously steps up with his front paws on Luke's knee - sniffs at the bone - decides it is of no interest - and moves instead to snuffling at Luke's fingers.

Without thought - Luke starts to stroke his soft fur - and feels just a teeny tiny bit better.

Sergio pulls out all the stops - butting his head against Luke - grabbing his wrist and licking his wrist with his sandpaper tongue - grinning when his ears are rubbed just so.

With a groan - Luke reaches out blindly and grabs his phone with his non cat filled hand - or at least pulls it towards himself with his finger tips.

Once he can palm it - he unlocks it with a finger print - and stares groggily down at the screen.

His home page is a picture of Penelope, Roxy, and Sergio that he took on Valentine's Day - almost a year ago.

Penelope is wearing a red and pink patterned dress and a headband with two fluffy red sparkly heart pom poms, Sergio is wearing a red collar with a shiny red bowtie, and Roxy is wearing a pink camo collar with a new heart-shaped tag featuring their new address and both their cell phone numbers.

They all look so happy - even Sergio did a cat bliss look for a camera as Penny rubbed under his chin - none of them realized that Roxy only had six more months to spend with them…

He had thought he should take Penelope out that night for dinner and dancing… but she insisted that they order take in… take Roxy for an extra long walk… and curl up as a family. It had been perfect.

Still absently patting Sergio - Luke presses the phone icon - and then dials Penelope.

He punches in each number one at a time - Penelope laughed at him for the habit of never using speed dial for her unless he was driving ….well until that night when a guy at a bar grabbed her phone and smashed it when she wouldn't dance with him - and then she had not been able to remember his number by heart when she went to the payphone to call him… because she didn't remember she had two other phones in her purse and that J.J. and Tara who were also there would have his number..

J.J. and Tara had found Penelope fairly quickly - although she had been sitting on the floor by the payphone sobbing inconsolably because she couldn't remember Luke's number. They tried everything they could think of to calm her down but nothing seemed to get through to her or convince her that they could call Luke for her.

So Tara, who had not yet known that they were dating, had stepped away and called him … apologizing for bothering him...but would he mind meeting them at the bar? Penelope was super upset about a guy breaking her phone and for some reason just kept crying that she had to talk to him but couldn't remember his number….and even though she'd barely finished her first drink she wasn't making any sense and they couldn't calm her down - it didn't make any sense.

Luke had made the usually twenty minute drive to the bar in ten.

He had taken one look at her and scooped her up into his.arms - carrying her to his truck - whispering every silly bit of comforting nonsense he could think of… leaning over her to buckle her seatbelt… pressing a kiss to her forehead and telling her for the umpteenth time that everything would be better now...gently making her let go of his shirt by untangling her finger and then kissing the tops and laying them on her lap so he could stand and close the door.

J.J. and Tara had carried her coat and purse…leading the way...opening doors…. and when he had finally turned to them once he'd gotten Pen settled...their eyebrows raised in twin questions…

They all knew now that while she was shaken from the whole guy breaking her phone thing - the real problem was that she had actually been coming down with the flu - but at the time…

He remembers how an awkward dumbass grin had spread across his face as he took her purse and coat from them - already heading to the driver's side - he had filled the silence with...

"Thanks for calling me. I'll make sure she's ok. Uh… We're together. It's ahh serious."

He remembers how their expressions had shifted from 60% bewildered concern - 40% cheeky curiosity to 95% grinning - 5% concern.

The last thing he heard before he had closed his door and fired up the engine was Tara calling with a smirk "Since when Alvez? I've got money riding one this, you know! Dates. I need dates."

.,.he remembers how worried he'd been when a strained faced too silent Penelope - had broken down again and sobbed and shook all the way home - as he drove he had kept glancing at her - her cheeks had flushed and when he reached out to take her hand - it was hot - burning - he had realized her temperature had shot through the roof - and then - poor woman - she had thrown up when they got home...all over the front hall of her old apartment…and then after he'd half carried - half dragged her to the washroom - she'd vomited over and over again throughout the night…

He had sat up with her - making her sip water - suck on ice cubes - washing her face with a damp cloth - keeping her and everything else as tidy and comfortable as possible. She was so miserable and sick...it broke his heart.

It was hours until finally the shivering and painful dry heaves had subsided for long enough that he felt he could make her brush her teeth again - wash her face - help her into yet another set of clean warm pajamas - guiding her to bed - which he had spread with towels and made sure there was a bucket nearby - in case by some miracle there was something left in her system to bring up….finally she was able to fall into a fitful sleep around 5am.

They were lucky to have the weekend off and he still has no real idea how he didn't catch it - Tara, JJ, Will and their kids all got it - then Rossi, Prentiss, Matt, Kristy, all of their kids.

Only he and Spencer seemed to escape.

It was a brutal couple weeks for the BAU.

Although a very happy week in other ways.

Not only did she promise to never tease him again for not using speed dial and memorized his number and has almost always punched in the numbers one by one since….but...Incredibly… he'd proposed that first afternoon when she woke up and her fever had miraculously broken and she had tentatively asked for peppermint tea and dry toast.

It wasn't a grand romantic gesture - more of an "I promised myself I would ask if you made it through the night" thing…

But romantic or not - it was the happiest day of his life up to then when she looked up shyly and asked "yeah?" her voice all scratchy from being sick and her face still splotchy - and his heart swelled and he brushed a tendril off her cheek - looked in her eyes and quietly - firmly said "Yeah."

She had smiled and nodded and said her own "Yeah."

"Cool."

His stomach had flipped but not in a sick way - in a I-cannot-believe-I-am-so-lucky kind of way. And he had leaned in to kiss her and she had pulled back screeching "No! Germs!" - so he had kissed the top of her head instead - although he practically never left her side all weekend - holding her as she recovered.

They still laugh about how it must have been that he was so over the moon that the flu bug couldn't catch him and if only they had agreed to get married earlier that day...maybe she could have escaped It too.

Truth be told - they were both a little in shock over their decision - since they had technically only been dating for a couple months… not that they hadn't talked about the future… but they knew it would seem fast to everyone else.

But they never regretted it and they even decided they didn't care what people thought and so they'd had a tiny perfect-for-them and very sparkly wedding just 3 weeks later.

Roxy had been the ring bearer.

--------

Halfway across the country, Penelope is sitting cross-legged on her hotel bed, distractedly watching a baking show when the phone she's been forcing herself to leave alone finally rings. It's his tone.

Thank Goodness.

"Howdy Handsome! Ho-"

"Pen?"

His voice is rusty and thick with what sounds like unsure tears.

"Sweetheart? What's wrong?"

"I… I…"

"Breath Luke. Was it Tara? Did you get her message? Did it upset you? I told her I thought it was too soon...but we didn't talk until af-"

"Tara? No. No. I mean yeah she phoned but went to...voice...mail...haven't…Pen… I. … …. ….. "

"Shhh don't worry about that then…what's wrong, Love?"

"I… I am… so… so… "

Luke takes a deep sucking breath trying to clear his head and make himself explain. Dimly he's aware he must be worrying Penelope… which he hates doing… so forces himself to make the words.

"I am… so.. sooo-ahh sad. I miss her Pen. I miss Roxy."

"Awww Sugar. Me too. I'm so sorry. I wish I was there to hold you….but maybe you just needed some space to really feel it? Maybe this is a good thing?"

"Sergio is sitting with me."

"Of course he is. I'm so glad. And you know what?"

"Wha-at?"

The single word is so broken - so hopeful - her heart literally aches for him. So she answers softly - carefully - slowly.

"She probably asked Sergio to take care of you for her. So it's like she's there for you in a way. And I know I am far away… but I'm here too."

At that the tears - not the hot angry howly ones he was holding back - or the numb sick with shame ones - but healing loving tears filled with grief and loneliness but also love and memories of good days and hope - those tears spill freely out of his eyes and down over his unshaven cheeks and his breath hitches not quite with sobs but something close.

Penelope somehow knows exactly what is happening with her beloved husband at the other end of the line - so she just sits and croons soft comforting loving words. Not sushing or discouraging his outpouring of grief in any way. She knows these tears must be shed. Finally, his breathing evens at the other end of the line.

"You feeling a tiny bit better, Luke? You don't have to be."

"No. I mean yeah. Yeah I think I am a bit better. Pen?"

"Mhmm?"

"Why? Why did she leave us so early? It's not fair."

"It wasn't fair. You know th- oh! Tara is calling again. Luke…trust me...just hold for two secs ok? Do not go anywhere. I love you. I am not abandoning you with this. I promise. Just...just hold on."

The line goes dead as she switches to the other line. She's gone for less than 30 seconds - but it feels like an eternity to Luke.

How could she?

"Luke, you there?"

"Yeah."

His voice is sharp and bitter edged.

Penelope can feel the panic rise in her chest as she tries to decide whether or not to share what Tara's calls have been about or to just drop it….either way she needs to decide since Tara is waiting on the other line...and she can't stand how upset he is...but...what to do...finally she just lets out the words that are in her heart in a rushed anxious flood.

"Luke...I know you are really really missing Roxy today and I don't want you to be more upset - and you know I will never ever ever push you into anything before you're ready but the reason Tara's trying to reach us is - there is a pupp-"

"A pup-?"

His voice is exasperated - almost furious - and so so so hurt.

"Luke - listen ok? We will never ever EVER replace Roxy in our lives or our hearts. But at some point you may want to make room in your heart for another dog….if now or even never is not a good time that is completely ok. But maybe...just maybe...Tara calling us on this day of all days...maybe it's a sign? The puppy was adopted by a neighbor of hers but they can't cope so they are going to take it to the SPCA if they can't find someone today to take him. Apparently the puppy has a lot of behavioural issues - although Tara this it's probably more a case of people who are just lousy dog owners...so she thought of us...and Luke...he's a four month old Belgian Malinois."

Luke is suddenly standing pushing his foot into his other running shoe as he presses the phone to his ear.

"Penny? Is Tara still on the other line?"

"Yeah."

"Link her in?"

"Ok. Tara? You there? Luke and I are both on the line.

"I'm he-"

"Tara. The puppy is where? Is he safe?"

"Just around the corner from me. And yeah - he's safe - just unwanted. If you come to my place - I can walk you over."

"I'll be there in twenty minutes. Penny I'm hanging up, ok? Love you."

*Click*

"Don't be fooled Tara - he'll be there in closer to ten. You should put your shoes on now. Give him a hug for me ok? Thanks for waiting and don't be surprised if he looks a little rough. He got hit by grief over Roxy today - even before he heard about all this. I told him it might have been a sign...but it may be a lot for him. Oh and don't let him shoot your neighbors, ok?"

"10-4. Thanks Penelope. Oh and I'll make sure that he's not packing before we go over and I will take pictures."

"Thanks Tara. You're a peach! Talk soon ok?"

Penelope hangs up and sends a note to her boss that a family emergency has come up and needs to head home tonight. She knows it'll be ok because she finished up her part this morning. Next her fingers are flying, organizing an Uber and a flight.

She'll be back in DC in less than five hours and can't wait to help Luke welcome their new family member into their home and their hearts.

[ncssian]

A Favor: Part Twelve

Nessian Modern AU

Masterlist

a/n: this took so long bc ive been reading chain of iron and in general agonizing over things i cant control instead of being productive 🥴 that being said, absolutely none of the events in this chapter were planned in my outline, but here we are with something new!

***

December brings more snow and bone chilling weather, to the point where Cassian has to drag Nesta out of bed, either physically or by phone call, to get her to therapy appointments on time. 

She’s in the waiting room one freezing morning when, in her utter boredom, she musters up the nerve to turn to the girl sitting next to her. “What are you in here for?”

The girl blinks her large blue eyes, taking notice of Nesta for the first time. Nesta uses the opportunity to take in her freckle-painted face, a little wan but beautiful. Reddish brown hair hangs around her face and shoulders, creating a thick curtain from the rest of the world, and Nesta’s curiosity piques like she’s just found a shiny new toy.

It probably isn’t right to compare people to toys, but then the girl says, “This isn’t prison, you know.” Her voice is deep, almost sultry— completely at odds from her huddled-in posture and sickened expression. “I didn’t commit a crime to have to be here.”

Is she insulted by Nesta’s question, or is she poking a joke? Nesta decides to play it safe by murmuring, “Sorry, never mind.”

She starts to turn away when the girl says, “We’re trying a new type of trauma therapy today. I had to get here half an hour early because I couldn’t swallow my nerves.”

Nesta might lack many social skills, but she isn’t stupid enough to ask what kind of trauma the girl is being treated for. Instead, she nods casually as if she understands the struggle. “I’ve been coming here for weeks now and I’ve barely discussed shit. That’s mostly on me, but you know…” She actually doesn’t know where she’s going with her train of thought. “It sounds brave to do whatever you're doing,” she states finally. “I don’t think I’ll be able to open up that much about myself, ever.” 

The girl gives Nesta a weird look that she immediately recognizes. Nesta uses it every time she doesn’t know how to respond to someone who takes her by surprise.

The door to Lana’s office clicks open, and the woman herself pokes her head out with a plain smile. “Ready, Nesta?”

Nesta bites down on her frown. She has a feeling today won’t be as easy as her past sessions.

She’s about to leave without another glance at the girl beside her when that low voice speaks up. “I’m Gwyn.”

Nesta looks back at her as she gets up from her chair, and says the first reply that comes to mind: “Good to know.”

***

Nesta is contemplative hours after she gets back from her therapy session, bundled up in her bed with a coloring book. The repetitive motion of filling in the mandala drawing lets her mind wander, picking up and dropping different thoughts like she’s inspecting stones. 

She keeps her wrist light as she colors in with red. She finally said Tomas’s name in therapy today, though the action left a slimy feeling in Nesta’s stomach that lingers even now. She also spoke about her sisters, which somehow ended up leading to a discussion of her uterus. 

“How have you been dealing with the endometriosis news?”

Nesta shrugged. “I’m getting treated, and my last period was more bearable than usual—”

“I mean mentally, how are you doing? With how your condition could affect your future?”

Nesta narrowed her eyes. “Affect me how?”

“Have you never considered the impact it could have on your ability to bear children?”

“Not everything in life is about bearing children, you know.”

“We’re humans. It’s definitely something to consider.”

“Not for me. I’ve never wanted kids.” A mistruth at best. “I don’t care what endo does or doesn’t do to me on those grounds.”

In a way, Nesta told herself, the health risks were actually for the best. If she ever did, by some stupid loss of sanity, try to have children, then her body would act as a safety net from her decisions.

Lana only said, “You’ll never know how much you care or don’t care until you talk out your feelings.”

“Then I guess we’ll never know.”

Nesta lets the memory of that conversation drop like a stone on a shore. That’s not something she has to face for a good long while. No, right now she has to face her past. 

Her sisters, and her ex, and even her father— 

I wonder if I came off too strong with Gwyn today. 

Her hand stops drawing, and she switches out her red marker for an orange one. This thought she doesn’t mind inspecting for a little longer: she and Gwyn ended up leaving their sessions at the same time, which meant they were forced into stilted conversation on the way down to the parking lot. 

Not forced, Nesta self-corrects. She willingly initiated a conversation, and it didn’t go terribly. She wonders if making friends in therapy waiting rooms is a real thing.

Her phone vibrates beside her, breaking her hours-long mental bubble. Blinking dazedly, she answers the phone call.

“How are you?” is the first thing Cassian says to her. He makes sure to ask her that at least twice a day, like a gauging of her temperature. It makes Nesta wonder what she’s ever done in her life to call for such… attention to her well-being. 

“I’m good,” she answers honestly. “My head’s a little loud right now, but I don’t mind it.”

“Wanna talk about it?”

“No, I’d rather hear you talk.” She slumps back against her pillows, coloring book forgotten. “What’s up?”

“Ah...” Cassian sounds hesitant for the first time since their relationship started. “It’s just that I haven’t gotten my Christmas decorations up yet, and I was going to ask if you wanted to help.”

Nesta takes a moment to absorb his words. “It’s December fifth,” she says.

“Yeah?”

“You just seem like somebody who does their decorations the day after Thanksgiving.”

“Well, this year is a little different, with you moving out and being busy with school…” He pauses. “I was waiting to do it with you.”

When she doesn’t reply, Cassian adds, “I don’t even know if you care about Christmas. I know you and your family sort of ignored holidays. It’s fine if you don’t want to—”

“I’ll be over right now,” Nesta blurts. 

Half an hour later, Cassian swings open his door with a smug grin on his face; a vast difference from the stammering hesitance he displayed over the phone earlier. Nesta’s own lips want to pull up into a smile just at the sight of him, but she holds back and narrows her eyes instead. “What’s got you so worked up?” she questions as she steps into the warmth of the cabin and out of the freezing cold.

“The way you ran over here as soon as I asked.” He looks her up and down, still amused. “You didn’t even bother to change, did you?”

It’s true: she’s in the same sweatpants and long sleeved tee she wore around home, and her socked feet are shoved into slippers. 

“Get that smirk off your face.” Nesta flicks his nose before tossing her coat off. “If this is a competition about who’s got a bigger puppy-crush for whom, you already won when you delayed putting up your Christmas decorations for me.”

“Fair enough,” he grins. The words send an unexpected pang through Nesta, because it’s partly true, isn’t it? He cares more openly for her than she does for him. 

She looks away in guilt, not knowing how to fix the imbalance. Her eyes land on the living room coffee table, where their half-finished jigsaw puzzle sits. It’s been stored under the couch for the past few weeks, forgotten by Nesta and Cassian alike as they moved on with their lives, but now it’s sitting out again.

“Have you been working on the puzzle without me?” She raises an inquisitive brow, about to feel— hurt.

“Never,” Cassian promises, saving her from that irrational hurt. “I just brought it out because I figured we should get to finishing it one day.”

She pads over to the table, picking up a puzzle piece and turning it over in her hand. “I don’t know if you remember, but we had a terrible time working on this,” she scoffs lightly.

“Oh, I remember,” he says, coming up behind her and stealing the piece from her grasp. “I think it’s safe to say those evenings were the worst fights we’ll ever have together.”

Nesta leans back against Cassian’s chest and hums. “It made us a stronger couple, don’t you think?” She turns her head up and back to meet Cassian’s eyes, finding that he’s already looking down at her.

Hypnotized, she leans into his warmth. She only manages to land the smallest kiss against his lips when his hand squeezes her ass cheek. “You’re here for a job, remember?” He taps her butt before pulling away, gesturing to the Christmas tree in the corner of the living area with his chin. It stands bare. “You do tinsel, I’ll do lights.”

Tinsel is harder to work with than Nesta remembers. She only manages to get half the tree done before plopping onto the Persian rug, exhausted and covered in silvery material. She doesn’t mind laying there while Cassian continues working; it’s her revenge for when he napped on her bed while she moved in.

“You know the stair railings still need to be wreathed, Archeron.”

Nesta declines to respond, tilting her head on the carpet for a better view of her boyfriend’s ass instead. “All this decorating,” she starts. “Is it just for you?”

Cassian turns to her, surprised. “Well…”

She pushes up onto her elbows, catching her mistake. “Are we doing Christmas together? Or are your friends coming over?” She hasn’t bothered to celebrate Christmas in years now, and she doesn’t care much what Cassian’s plans are either way.

“I was hoping for both?” He sounds hesitant. “Christmas Eve is all the way over in Velaris, but I was thinking we could go together, open some presents, and come back and spend Christmas here.”

Nesta purses her lips. She doesn’t actually hate that plan. Both Feyre and Elain have been pestering her with the annual texts asking her to visit for Christmas, and for once, she feels like responding to them. The invitation is more of a formality than an actual request at this point; she doubts her sisters want her there after years of rejections, but… what’s the harm?

“Is that a yes?” Cassian asks at her unreadable face.

“Yes,” she states unflinchingly. She refuses to overthink the possible consequences of this choice and chooses to focus on the broad grin overtaking Cassian’s face. “Really?” he says.

“But there has to be rules.” Nesta sits up fully now. “No one can know we’re together, no matter how much you trust or love them.”

“We already agreed to that, baby.”

Yes, but Nesta knows the secret weighs on him heavier than he shows— even if he agrees with her that it's for the best. “It’ll be different when we’re together in the same room as everyone else,” she says. Cassian wears his beating heart on his sleeve, and she doesn’t think he’s ever had to hide it before.

“You’ll also be different,” she adds. “It’s a huge change of pace.”

Cassian drops the remaining strand of lights and smiles confusedly down at her. “What do you mean, I’ll be different?” He sits across from her, before the blazing fire. 

“You know how you get around your friends.” Nesta shrugs without a thought. “Like your personality readjusts to mirror the people around you. I used to find it a mix of sad and adorable, like a neglected puppy desperate for love, but now I— okay, I still feel the same way.” She waves a hand in a dismissive gesture.

By the look on Cassian’s face, he does not find her words so easily dismissed. 

Coldness curdles in the pit of Nesta’s stomach, the realization that she’s said something wrong. She can’t fix it until she knows where she fucked up, though.

“Is that what you think of me?” Cassian finally says lowly. His usually expressive mouth is drawn tight and narrow. 

“Um… What would you rather I think of you?”

His eyes widen in disbelief. “Seriously, Nesta?”

Nesta’s back stiffens, refusing to cower. “I only described what I’ve observed in the past.”

“And what you observed was a desperate puppy?” His voice is cold in a way she’s never heard before.

Okay, she’s starting to see how that might be offensive. She forges onward, “Tell me what you think about yourself in the presence of your family, then.” It’s a private victory that she says family instead of clown circus. But she’s not trying to turn this into a fight.

Cassian is silent, but his stare continues to rage at her.

“Tell me,” Nesta repeats.

His hands curl into fists on the rug. “I think I’m empathetic, easy to talk to, and easier to be around. Is it a problem if I’m likable?” Unlike you are the unsaid words.

Nesta inspects the space between them like it’s a chessboard. “And what part of yourself are you giving up to be so likable, Cassian?” she says quietly.

“Nothing.”

Nesta disagrees, if only because she’s been watching him out of the corner of her eye for years. “I think you base your personality off of those you love, and you lose a little bit of your true self every time you put others’ needs before your own.” 

She shuts her mouth, not having expected such honesty to come out of it. Cassian is taken aback, too, she can tell.

“And I guess it’s natural that you’d see all of that as a bad thing, considering your history of being closed off and self-serving to a fault,” he fires back with the flatness Nesta utilizes so often.

One for one. Fair enough. “We’re both right then,” Nesta says. “You work for your best friend because you have no ambition beyond serving your family, and I have no such family because I can’t bring myself to care about those things. Are we even now?”

Cassian furrows his brows, those defensive walls melting away as he realizes she’s completely serious. “What? No, Nes—” He shakes his head. “Okay, so maybe you’re right about me. Maybe I agree with you a little bit, but… If we see flaws in each other, then we should be working to overcome them instead of weaponizing them.”

Now Nesta’s the one shaking her head, quickly lifting a hand to stop him. “Relax there, sweetheart. I have no expectations from you or myself to go on some self-improvement journey now that we’re together. Talking about my feelings with a professional every week is hard enough.” Yes, agreeing to go to Feyre’s Christmas party is improvement. Slow, barely there improvement, but enough to wear her out for the rest of the month. For Nesta to fully let people into her life, to treat them as lovingly as she treats Cassian— that’s a long way away. She can’t envision it, doesn’t even know if she wants it.

Cassian must understand some of what she’s thinking, because he nods and backs off. He gets back up and returns to stringing lights, tossing a handful of tinsel at Nesta as if to say Get back to work. 

She stands and obeys, thinking their not-argument is officially over when Cassian says, “You’re wrong about one thing.”

She looks up from where she threads tinsel through fir leaves. He doesn’t take his eyes off his work as he says, “You do have a family. And deep, deep down, you care about them as much as I care about mine.”

***

Nesta catches Emerie’s eye as the dark-haired beauty walks into the pub. Raising a hand and waving, she gestures Emerie over to the booth she’s sitting in. 

“Look what I found,” Nesta says with a hint of pride, pointing to the redhead sitting beside her. “A third girl for girl’s night!”

“I was kidnapped,” Gwyn speaks up. “Jumped on the way to my car.” She’s out of her usual hoodie and in a tight-fitting blouse, looking stunning even while seeming out of place in the dim bar.

“She came here consensually,” Nesta retorts. “Emerie, this is Gwyn. We met at therapy.”

Gwyn offers Emerie an awkward smile.

Emerie slides into the booth across from them with raised brows. She looks between Nesta and the new girl and back again. “You invited her here? All by yourself?” she asks.

Nesta nods firmly.

Emerie breaks into a wide grin and reaches over the table to grab Nesta’s hand. “I’m so proud of you!” If Emerie were anyone else, she’d be squealing in excitement, but Emerie does not squeal.

Nesta waves off her friend’s praise, though a part of her wants to beam at it, too.

Gwyn glances between the two of them with slight amusement. “I mean, it’s not that impressive,” she says. “She came on a bit too strong, probably a five out of ten on the asking-someone-out scale.”

“‘A bit too strong’ is all you’re gonna get with Nesta,” Emerie says, lifting her hand to order drinks. “She’s all-or-nothing, and most people would pray she doesn’t give them her nothing.”

Nesta doesn’t know if that’s a compliment, but she supposes there are worse things that could be said about her.

“So, Gwyn, what do you do?” Emerie leans forward. “All our friends are law students and it’s starting to get boring.”

Gwyn goes off about her librarian job as Nesta orders their drinks, and Emerie rests her chin in her hand and listens eagerly. Christmas music plays softly in the background and snow flurries gently outside. Nesta thinks she can’t be doing that bad in life, if she’s managed to carve out this little slice of happiness for herself.

***

a/n: i promise shit actually happens next chapter! we're getting christmas with nessian and the ic in the same room for the first time

taglist: @ladywitchling @sjm-things @thewayshedreamed @drielecarla @valkyriewarriors @superspiritfestival @aliveahaahahafuck @cupcakey00 @sayosdreams @rainbowcheetah512 @claralady @thebluemartini @nessiantho @missing-merlin @duskandstarlight @lucy617 @sleeping-and-books @everything-that-i-love @cassianscool @swankii-art-teacher @awesomelena555 @julemmaes @wickedqueenoffantasy @poisonous-bloom @observationanxioustheorist @gisellefigue08 @courtofjurdan @theoverlyenthusiasticwriter @wolfiixxx @cass-nes @seashade @royaltykxx @illyrianundercover @queenestarcheron @monstrousloves-explodinggalaxies @humanexile @that-golden-lyre @agentsofsheilds @mercy-is-alive @cassiansbigwingspan @laylaameer01 @verypaleninja @maastrash @bow-dawn @perseusannabeth @dead-on-the-inside666 @jlinez @hungryreadingaddict @anidealiveson

[psychovigilantewrites]

Don’t Call Me That Pt. 3

Word count: 15k+ LMAOOOO

TW: Sex, ptsd, abandonment

A/N: I KNOW I DELAYED MY PUBLICATION!! So i’m very thankful for all your support and patience!!! I will be posting outfit pics after this, heheh. You guys are honestly the best. I love your enthusiasm. Keep it coming!! 

Masterlist

Ao3

The deep heat that penetrated your skin and into your muscles was a relief as you rubbed Tiger Balm onto your shoulders and the back of your stiff neck. The mentol of the ointment smelled strong, yet it made you feel relaxed.

Your muscles were feeling tense for a while, largely contributed to the fact that you patrol much more often now that you were done with highschool and was waiting for when University lectures started. Perhaps you could go for a spa or massage. Bruce would definitely pay for your indulgence.

Even though it had been over a year, you were still the relatively new Robin. Such a drastic change in lifestyle wasn’t easy to get used to. The training, the patrols, the constant vigilance, constant analysis. You still felt like it was your first week.

Standing in front of your window, you tried to look for the full moon. But the night was too cloudy, and you sensed a storm was coming soon based on the way the trees outside swayed brutally in the wind. It was three in the morning, and you had returned from patrol.

Jason waited for you like usual outside his room in the Cave, but this time, he didn’t follow you up to your room. It must have been a rough day for him. Dick had told you that Jason went a little bit too hard at the Cave gym that evening, almost injuring himself if Dick hadn’t stepped in to help.

So there you were left alone with your own thoughts that night. You were so used to having Jason in the room with you, that now you felt a bit lonely without him.

You frowned. You thought you had heard footsteps in the distance, but now they were gone. Shrugging to yourself, you concluded that must have been Dick returning to his room for the night.

The door slammed open and you jumped in surprise.

But before you could turn around in response, you felt a pair of arms around your waist, pulling you close to a hard, warm body.

Jason sobbed silently into your back, his forehead resting on your right shoulder. You didn’t ask him why, you didn’t say any words of comfort. Instead, you put your hands over his and squeezed tightly, as tight as how your chest felt.

After fifteen minutes, he finally spoke up.

“I’m sorry,” he choked, “It’s just- it’s been haunting me more these past few days.”

“What has?”

“The nightmares,” he gave a watery reply, “Or- I just can’t stop thinking about it. Even during the day.”

You pursed your lip. “Is it the same one?”

“It always is,” he whispered solemnly, “All the time.”

***

Again, your hair was soaking.

During any other nights of stakeouts in the pouring Gotham rain, you would have complained or wished you brought a shower cap with you. But that night, you were silent.

On the rooftop of a warehouse in the loading bay of Dixon Docks, you and Batman were crouching low near the edges of the roof, using the cement wall that rose to your hips when you were standing as a shield from the two other armed guards on the roof of the building across from yours.

The informant had told Batman that a load of weapons were coming in that night, but he didn’t know what time. So there you were, waiting in the cold wet weather, slowly going into your second hour already.

Anxious and bored, you clipped open your cape and dropped it to the ground for you to sit on. It was drenched and that made it even heavier than it already was.

“Bruce,” you spoke up.

“Batman when we’re in uniform,” he corrected you.

“Right,” you said, “Can I ask you something?”

He nodded, water droplets running down from the sharp tip of his cowled nose.

“Have you ever thought of- of killing Joker?”

The sound of water against concrete provided much cover for your voice, and you weren’t sure if Bruce had answered or not.

“All the time,” he finally did.

“But…?” you prompted.

“But that would be the start of something much worse,” he said solemnly, gazing in the distance.

You waited for him to explain, but he never did.

“What does that mean?” you probed, “I’m not saying all of them, Bruce. Just him.”

“Batman.”

“What?”

“It’s Batman when we’re out.”

You let out a frustrated sigh. “Okay. Batman. Just Joker. Just for what he did. All the things he did.”

He answered you with silence.

“Look, I know your rationale, and I understand it, I really do. A lot of these people, they didn’t ask for this. They didn’t ask to be desperate enough to have to choose to be a criminal. Hell, even Pyg can’t help it. He’s got.. Schizophrenia or something, right? But Joker… He’s got no excuse. The man is plain evil. And he’s better off dead.”

“We don’t know enough about Joker to rule it out as plain evil,” Batman tried to rationalize with you, “And we don’t get to choose who lives and who dies. That’s not our job. That’s not anyone’s job.”

The rain came down hard, and it sounded like white noise as you registered what Batman told you. He was still defending Joker.

“What if I told you I wanted to kill him?” you whispered, so low that if it were anyone else, they wouldn’t be able to catch your words.

“Then I’ll stop you.”

“No,” you tried to keep your voice from breaking, “You wouldn’t. Not if- not if you knew. Not if you truly knew what he did to Jason.”

You saw him clench his jaw, but he left you with no reply.

“I want him dead, Bruce,” you grit, “I want to rip him apart and scrape every single cell in his body against every surface of this planet, Bruce. I want him to feel everything that he did.”

“Robin, for the last time-”

Oh, no. Don’t you dare.

“When we’re on patrol, it’s Bat-”

“I don’t give a fuck!” you yelled, standing up on your feet in anger, forgetting where you were at that moment.

“Robin, down!”

You felt it first before you heard it.

A sharp pain that vibrated through your bones. You felt the pain power through you from your back, just a few inches below your shoulder, and then you fell forward. You tried to break the fall with both your arms, but your right arm couldn’t move, so you fell almost flat on your face into the ground.

And then you heard it, the loud BANG of a gun, Batman yelling something in the distance and then disappearing, more gun shots, and then footsteps rushing towards you.

“Robin,” he said with urgency in his voice, “Are you okay?”

“Can’t- breathe- pain- ow-” you gasped, trying hard to manage with shallow breaths, because every time you inhaled, the pain became more intense.

“We need to get you back. Can you move?”

“I- I think so-” you tried to move your legs, wincing when you moved your upper body. Batman lifted you up by gripping onto your left arm, pulling you to your feet.

“I’ll carry you to the Batmobile,” he stated, “You can’t grapple like this.”

You nodded, shame and guilt burning into you as he lifted you up in a fireman’s carry.

***

“Alfred!” Bruce’s voice boomed loudly in your ear as he carried you out the vehicle, echoing back at you in the Cave.

He rushed you to one side of the cave, where there always was a bed and a very complete first aid kit- that shouldn’t even be called first aid anymore. It was where Alfred would perform emergency medical interventions straight after patrol, and then only after that, the said patient would be moved to the infirmary upstairs in the manor for recuperation.

You were hanging upside down over Bruce’s shoulder, ass jutting out in the air. Honestly, the embarrassment would have been the most painful thing about the whole ordeal if you were used to getting shot like Dick or Bruce was.

From the countless times you saw them injured, you always thought getting shot was no big deal. They handled it well, and then even a week later, they would be back in uniform.

That was miscalculation on your side. It wasn’t that it didn’t hurt, they just got used to the pain.

Because the bullet shoved into your shoulder blade right now hurt like a mother fucker. You knew it didn’t even hit your lung, but you couldn’t breathe because of the pain. You felt lightheaded, and your current position was not helping.

Out of the corner of your eye, though, you saw Jason stand up from his box, rushing to you.

“What the fuck happened?” he demanded.

Bruce put you down gently on the bed, the change in position making you cry out and groan as you sat upright.

“What the hell happened, Bruce?!” Jason yelled.

For the first time ever since getting to know Bruce Wayne, you saw him stunned as he looked at Jason.

“Well?!” he pushed.

Bruce took off his cowl, and set it aside. “She got shot.”

“How?” Jason hissed, “Where?”

“Shoulder blade- I don’t think it’s fatal. You can calm down.”

“Calm- calm down?” Jason’s nose flared in anger. “This happened on your watch, Bruce! Need I remind you what happened the last time something went wrong with a Robin on your watch?!”

Bruce didn’t say anything to that. Instead, he clenched his jaw tight, eyes looking down.

“It- it was my fault,” you panted, “I took off my cape. I practically asked them to shoot at me. Was being stupid.”

“What’s the cape got to do with anything?”

“It- yours- yours wasn’t bulletproof?” you asked out of curiosity. Anything to distract you from the pain.

“No,” Jason grit.

“Oh my- what happened?” Alfred finally arrived, immediately opening the first aid kit that was the size of a goddamn cabin suitcase.

“BW to right scapula,” Bruce turned from Jason to assist Alfred, “.22 calibre.”

Alfred sighed in relief. “Very well. We are well stocked on Lidocaine, so this won’t hurt.”

“Okay,” you squeaked

Using a special pair of scissors, Alfred cut through the back of your uniform to expose the injured area.

“Why were you being stupid?” Jason walked over to stand in front of you.

“I just- we- we got into an argument,” you avoided eye contact and played with your thumbs.

“What about?”

“No- argh!” you felt a burn in your back. “A little warning next time, Alfred. It’s my first bullet wound, you know.”

“My apologies, Miss.”

Jason raised his eyebrows at you, waiting for an answer.

You locked eyes with Bruce for a moment, who was hovering behind Jason.

“Nothing. It was stupid. Something about my cape and how it was too cold,” you lied.

Jason stared deep into your eyes intensely.

He definitely was not convinced.

“I will be injecting the anesthesia now. It will hurt for a moment or so.”

“Okay, Alfred.”

“Take deep breath… Hold.”

“Hnng,” you whimpered as you felt another sharp pain.

Jason let out a heavy breath, and muttered, “Jesus.”

“We shall wait for a few minutes for the anesthesia to start its effects before I attempt to extract the bullet.”

“Sit next to me, Jay,” you smiled, patting the space next to you.

“I’m fine where I am,” he huffed, crossing his arms. Then, his eyes softened, “If it makes you feel better, I’ve survived worse. You’ll… Get through this.”

“Is that an attempt to comfort me?” you laughed.

“Maybe,” he frowned.

“Well, I’m all good. Anesthesia is kicking in. I don’t feel it much anymore,” you told him.

“Good,” he gave you a stiff nod, “You shouldn’t have to feel any sort of pain. No one should.”

His eyes fluttered away from yours as your heart sank.

Bruce pursed his lips in hesitation before he attempted to say anything. “Jason…”

“Only she gets to call me that,” his snapped at Bruce.

You felt a little bad, but at the same time you couldn’t help but a feel a little happy the way you were the special one.

“Okay, son. I’m sorry,” Bruce said softly, “For… For everything.”

“I don’t care about that anymore,” Jason choked.

“I should have been better,” Bruce continued, “God, I should have done more.”

“I said I don’t care anymore,” Jason grit, “But I swear, Bruce, I will murder you if you let another one of us slip through your fingers again.”

“I assure you, you wouldn’t have to. I would… myself...” Bruce sighed, “But duly noted. I’m sorry.”

This time, the apology was directed to you.

“No,” you shook your head, “It was my fault. I kept… I kept accidentally saying your name, and I was emotional… I’m just a newbie, Bruce. It’s not your fault. I acted rashly.”

“You did,” Bruce agreed, “Which is why I’m taking away your patrol privileges. Only twice a week now until I think you’re ready again for more responsibility.”

“Twice a week?” you groaned, “I mean I understand, but even when I was starting out it was three times!”

“Yes, you have been demoted,” Bruce smirked. He fucking smirked, “For calling me by name in the field three times, and sabotaging a mission. Now there are dozens of illegal and untraceable weapons in Gotham’s black market. Or do you not think this is an adequate disciplinary action?”

“It’s adequate,” you grumbled.

“No more taking off capes during patrol,” he added, “Even during storms.”

“Well, maybe you could make it lighter or waterproof then,” you retorted.

“I will see to it,” he nodded, “That is all. Let me know the damage, Alfred.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I used to get way worse,” Jason muttered when Bruce walked away.

“Ah, yes,” Alfred chimed in, getting started on extracting the bullet lodged in your back. “I remember many arguments. And broken china.”

“You broke things?” you chuckled at Jason.

“Yeah,” the corner of his lips twitched upwards, though it was tough to tell whether he was actually smiling, or it was because of the scar that twisted his lips upwards.

“Actually,” Alfred interrupted, “Master Bruce would also break things. When you’re gone, that is.”

“Did he?” Jason blinked in surprise.

“Oh, yes,” Alfred hummed, “You created much ruckus in the household, Master.”

You didn’t miss how Alfred too avoided his name.

“Bruce has always been nice to me,” you defended.

“Maybe because you never caused trouble,” Jason said, “Not the way I did.”

You now felt Alfred digging into your back. It was an odd sensation, but at least you didn’t feel pain.

“He still very much loves you despite it all,” Alfred said quietly.

Jason didn’t reply to that, and now an uncomfortable silence hung over the three of you.

“Hey, at least now we all got matching scars, huh?” you grinned, trying to break the tension. “I’m pretty sure each and every one of us has a gunshot wound. Or two. Or three. Or-”

“I have more than just gunshot wounds,” Jason stated.

“Yes, yes, torture and all that,” you waved your hand in dismissal, earning a small chuckle from Jason. “But really, though. It’s like a right of passage for us vigilantes, huh? It’s like I’m finally official now. Do you have one, Alfred?”

“More than one,” he informed you.

“Wokay, buddy, it’s not a competition,” you rolled your eyes, “Talk about a cut throat.”

“You’re really irritating,” Jason commented.

“But you love me anyway,” you grinned. “Do you love me, Alfred?”

“I suppose I have no choice but to say yes, Miss,” Alfred retorted.

“Aww, don’t be like that.”

“It’s finished,” Alfred announced. “Bullet has been extracted, and your wound sutured.”

“That was fast.”

“The bullet is in one piece,” he said, “Would you like me to make a necklace from it? That’s what Master Dick did with his first.”

“Hell yeah!” you looked at Jason, “What did you do with yours?”

“I dug it out and threw it back at my dad,” he monotoned.

“Wait… what?” your smile fell. You knew his dad was a criminal who went to prison, but you didn’t know anything about their relationship.

A rustle of plastic. Alfred kept himself busy.

“Just get some rest,” Jason sighed. He reached out to tuck your hair behind your ear. “Don’t strain yourself.”

His hand lingered there on your cheek, going downwards to tilt your head up, forcing you to meet his eyes.

“I don’t like the idea of you getting shot at,” he whispered.

“You and I both,” you snickered.

“I’m serious,” he frowned, “Be more careful. You’re too much of an idiot.”

“Okay, I will,” you smiled. It was nice to see that he cared. That he showed he cared.

“You get the bed all to yourself tonight. You’ll want the space,” he informed you, dropping his hand.

“I don’t mind if you-”

“Sleep facing down, keep a glass of water close,” he interrupted, walking away to his cube. “Goodnight.”

He closed his door.

You waited for a second, thinking of what Jason had said earlier.

“I take it his relationship with his dad was not good?” you asked Alfred.

“I’m afraid not.”

“Jesus,” you let out a breath, “He’s been through so much, hasn’t he? Guy can’t catch a break.”

“Indeed,” Alfred agreed. “It would be nice for him to be at peace. Perhaps, for once in his life.”

***

“There’s a stack of pancakes, amazingly greasy bacon, berries, cream, butter, maple syrup, waffles- and you’re eating cereal?” you judged.

“Why, my naive sister, don’t you know?” Dick replied, “I need to stick with my reputation, for I am the known cereal killer.”

“That joke has lost its charm after the first thousand times it’s been said, tweeted, and shared online,” you brandished your fork at him.

Dick was over at the manor that Saturday morning, two days after your injury. He had arrived the night before to visit and congratulate you on your first gunshot wound. As expected, he had tried to hug you. But Jason was there, and when Dick rushed towards you, he had stuck out his leg and tripped him over.

“She’s still in pain, you idiot,” Jason had snorted before descending back downstairs to hide away in his box.

Dick on the other hand, had looked up at you from the floor- despite how he obviously should have dodged or maneuvered- with tears in his eyes. “That was the longest thing he had ever said to me.”

Rolling your eyes, you had helped Dick back up.

“I started it!” Dick shouted at you, “No one believes me! I updated my facebook status all those years ago, some reporter reported it, and then suddenly everyone was tweeting it as if they made it up themselves.”

“I’m sorry, Dick, but that’s just not true,” you shook your head. Dick had been trying to convince you he was the trend setter for a lot of things in the past.

“I’m so disappointed in your lack of faith in me. I swear, man, I-”

Dick broke off and looked behind you.

Turning around, you saw Jason standing there with a hand in his hair. “Room for one more?”

“Of course,” Bruce said first, “I’ll have Alfred get you-”

“No, I’m on it,” Dick scrambled to his feet and dashed to the kitchen.

Jason pulled up a chair next to you. His movements were stiff. He was obviously nervous to be joining everyone for breakfast.

“Here,” Dick passed a plate and utensils to him.

“Thanks,” Jason muttered.

“No problem,” he grinned wide, like a kid getting his head pat after winning a trophy.

Jason stacked pancakes and bacon and everything else on his plate.

“What?” he grunted at you.

“Yo- you- you planning to finish all that?” you gaped.

“This?” he looked at his plate, “Yes. And then I’m gonna go for seconds.”

“Okay,” you laughed disbelievingly.

You, Dick, and Bruce made very brief eye contact with each other, and then smiled into your respective plates and continued to eat.

“Uh, Bruce?” Jason spoke up.

“Yes?”

“Can I… Can I move back into my old room?” he asked.

Bruce blinked once. “Yes. Of course. When would you like to move in?”

“As soon as we finish here, I can get my stuff from downstairs,” he informed Bruce.

“The room hasn’t been… cleaned,” Bruce said, “I can ask Alfred to prepare it for you. I left it… the way you left it.”

You only went into Jason’s old room once, out of curiosity. It was the first month you were there. After Alfred found out, he had strongly advised you to keep out because Bruce wanted to preserve it the way Jason had left it, all those years ago.

Out of respect, you stayed out of Jason’s old room and never went back in again after that.

“Then it’s fine,” Jason insisted, “I’ll change the sheets myself.”

“It’s probably dusty,” Bruce pointed out.

“I’ve had worse,” Jason shrugged.

“Indeed,” the older man nodded, “Alright. Let me know if you need anything.”

Silence again. But after ten minutes, Bruce asked, “Does this mean you will be sleeping in your own room instead of…”

Bruce glanced at you.

That was surprising, coming from Bruce. He usually would never ask about things that weren't his business. The fact that he did must have meant that he was either really curious, or he strongly opposed it.

“Bruce,” you hushed.

“Why?” Jason smirked now, though there was no humor in his eyes, his mouth twisting upwards into a distorted smile. “You worried about your little princess sleeping with the mentally fucked up son?”

“No,” Bruce stated, “I just realised that I never got around to having the talk with either of you. I was wondering if I should.”

“Bruce!” you gasped, cheeks heating up. “Come on!”

“You don’t have to worry about anything,” Jason grit, stabbing his pancake with his fork almost too violently, “Joker fucked me up in more ways than one.”

Silence. Longer than it should have been.

“What do you mean by that?”

Dick was the one to break it, his soft warm voice attempting to coax and comfort.

You glanced at Bruce. On the surface, it seemed that he was showing no reaction, but you saw the way he gripped his knife, his knuckles white.

“It doesn’t matter,” Jason scowled.

Bruce rose from his chair, more robotic than usual. “Just… tell me if you need anything. I’ll be at the computers.”

He left with an odd expression on his face.

***

“Tired of walking up the stairs to come see me?” you teased, leaning against the door to Jason’s room.

He was wiping his bedside table with a piece of wet cloth when he glared at you.

“I came in here once,” you told him, looking at the books aligned neatly on the shelves, the photos he had arranged on his desk. His laptop opened but not switched on, with a stack of papers next to it weighed down by Bruce’s fountain pen he probably stole. “Then never again when I found out that Bruce was kind of anal about people coming in here.”

You remembered that the bed was made, and that the sheets were blue. Now they were maroon.

“Is that supposed to make me feel better? Oh, forgive Bruce. He was suffering the whole time, too,” he mocked.

“Dickhead,” you retorted, “No. I just noticed that you must have had your laptop on the last time I was in here. I was wondering what you were doing when Alfred came in and told me to get out.”

“Hmm,” he frowned, looking towards his desk, “I don’t remember what I was doing on it. Maybe my essay?”

A smile crept on your lips. You walked over to the desk. “Switch it on,” you grinned.

He narrowed his eyes and came over. It took a minute for the laptop to show the homescreen. The icon was a picture of him from when you assumed to be two years ago , with Dick next to him. Both grinning at the camera.

His smile was different back then. So were his eyes.

“Huh,” you observed, “It was on sleep this whole time? Charging? The battery’s gotta be destroyed by now.”

Jason quickly typed in his password, and then logged in.

The screen showed exactly what Jason had been up to on his laptop two years ago. He slammed it shut, but not before you got a glimpse of the screen.

Porn. Jason was watching porn.

A kinky video too, now that you were thinking about it.

You laughed out loud. His eyes were wide in horror, and- holy shit. He was blushing! His ears went red, and a tint of pink appeared on his cheeks.

“Shut up,” he scowled, looking away embarrassed.

That made you double up and laugh even louder.

“I was sixteen, come on,” he groaned, “Every sixteen year old was horny.”

“No- it’s - it’s not that,” you gasped for air, tears in your eyes, “All this while- all this while, I’ve been so fucking curious. And now I know- it was- it was on PornHub. Jason! Your laptop was on PornHub for two whole years!”

You continued your fit of giggles, before- “Ah! Ow, ow,” you suddenly winced. The injury on your back was pulsating pain while you laughed hard.

“Are you okay?” Jason rushed to your side, panic in his eyes. “What’s wrong? Tell me!”

“I’m fine, Jesus, calm down,” you straightened up and took deep breaths, “It hurt when I laughed, that’s all.”

“You shouldn’t strain yourself,” he worried.

“I’m okay, Jason,” you rolled your eyes, “It’s no big deal.”

His eyes searched your face for any hints of pain, and then he sighed. “I… Came back up here so I can be closer to you… Just- just in case.”

“Just in case of what?” you frowned.

“If anything happened to you,” he muttered, looking away again.

“What’s going to happen to me up here?” you asked, “It’s perfectly safe.”

“I don’t know… What if you.. Fal in the shower or something,” he huffed, crossing his arms.

“Fall in the- Jason, I’m not a grandma!” you chuckled, “I’m Robin. Trained vigilante. I can handle myself in my own home.”

“I was a trained vigilante too, and look where that got me,” he grit.

You didn’t know how to answer that.

“Look,” he sighed, “I just. You got shot. If you had moved a couple of inches to the right, the bullet would have hit your spine. I kept on thinking about that, that’s all.”

“I get it,” you nodded. He was thinking about you dying.

You couldn’t blame him. Death and pain seemed to follow him everywhere. It was probably the only thing on his mind.

“But you don’t have to worry, okay?” you added, “I’ll be careful. Promise. Plus, now that Bruce is limiting my patrols, I get to spend more time with you at night! And I won’t be so tired in the morning. What do you say, you wanna go out later? Maybe somewhere aside from the park?”

“I, uh, I’m actually following Alfred to the grocery store later,” he said, “He says I should pick out ingredients since I eat the most in the house. It’d be easier for him to plan my meals if I were there for him to ask as well.”

“Oh!” your eyes widen in surprise. “That’s great, then.”

You grinned widely. Now that he’s going out with Alfred, it was also one step closer to him going out alone.

“Yeah,I guess,” he shrugged, “I’m just gonna clear out a few more shit from here.”

“You mean delete your browsing history?” you teased.

“What for?” he snickered, “Not like you’re coming anywhere close to my computer.”

“And even if I did, I wouldn’t judge. Much,” you winked. “I need to change my bandages. See ya.”

You found yourself worrying less and less about Jason lately, and he found himself worrying about you more and more.

Despite being more independent now, he had started to get clingy.

At first, you would have thought that Jason Todd and ‘clingy’ were two things that would never coexist together. On the contrary, ever since your injury, he wouldn’t leave your side unless it was to go out with Alfred.

You stayed home for the next two weeks for recuperation, and it was basically two weeks of Jason. You woke up, he was there next to you. You ate, he was there finishing your food. You watched TV, he was there fighting for the remote control.

But when you finally did heal and got to go out for patrol- that was the worst.

“He has been anxious the whole night,” Alfred had whispered to you once you came back. Jason had approached you with a serious look on his face, examined you up and down, nodded, and then went back upstairs.

“Hurry up, I’m sleepy,” he had grumbled, leaving you in shock.

You would have been annoyed if it wasn’t for the fact that it was Jason and he showed that he cared enough about you to be worried. So you were actually quite pleased.

So with all the clinginess and worries and occasional outings with either you or Alfred, you weren’t ready for when he suddenly disappeared while you were sending out some emails to the Gotham University staff.

“Uh, have you seen Jason?” you walked up to Bruce who was down at the Cave computers.

“No,” he frowned, “He doesn’t come down here much after he moved upstairs unless he’s waiting for you. Has Alfred not seen him?”

“I haven’t asked, but he wasn’t in his room, or mine, or the gym, or the kitchen either,” you bit your lip anxiously, “I texted him but he hasn’t replied. I’ll go find Alfred and ask.”

“Let me know.”

You found Alfred in the study, taking and dusting books to give to Jason.

“I’m afraid not, my dear,” he answered your question, “The last time I saw him was during breakfast. I have been up here since.”

“Shit, I can’t find him,” you started to panic.

“I’m sure he is fine,” Alfred tried to reassure you, “He’s been much better lately. He knows how to take care of himself.”

“I’ll call him or something,” you worried, going down to wait in the living room.

He never picked up, so you waited there anxiously for the next two hours, barely paying attention to whatever documentary that was playing.

Then at around five, he came waltzing in from the front door, fucking whistling a low tune.

“Jason!” you stood up.

“Hey,” he greeted you casually. “What’s wrong?”

“What’s- what’s wrong?” you repeated, “You just disappeared. For hours. You didn’t answer my texts or calls. Where were you?”

“Out,” he told you.

“O-out?” you asked, “Like, alone?”

“Yeah?” he frowned, “What’s the big deal?”

“Nothing, I just- I was just wondering where you were,” you breathed and sat back down, “Where did you go?”

“Nowhere interesting,” he shrugged, taking a seat next to you on the sofa, “The park at first. Then the grocery store. Then I parked somewhere and walked around Central Gotham.”

“You drove?” your eyes widen.

“Yeah, your car,” he grinned, “Didn’t think you’d mind.”

“I don’t,” you smiled, “How was it? Your day out?”

“Fine,” he simply said, “No big deal.”

He said that and tried to look modest, but you could see from his expression that he was pretty proud of himself. You had learned how to read his emotions better, and that was definitely a genuine, non-sarcastic, non-mocking smile he had on.

“No big deal, huh?” you chuckled.

“Yeah,” he smirked at you. “Why? Were you worried?”

“No way,” you rolled your eyes, “Why would I be?”

He narrowed his eyes and took out his phone. “Nineteen missed calls. Six text messages. ‘Jason, where are you?’ ‘Jason, I’m serious.’ ‘Why aren’t you picking up your phone? Are you in trouble?’ ‘Please call me back, I’m worried.’ ‘Don’t be an asshole and pick up you massive prick.’ And last but not least- I think this one is the best, by the way. Just ‘Dickhead.’”

“Well, why didn’t you pick up? Or text me back?” you demanded.

“Had it on silent. Didn’t want any distractions,” he pocketed his phone, “Wasn’t worried, huh?”

“Shut up,” you huffed, “I thought you… Left or something.”

“Left?” he frowned.

“Yeah, I thought you packed your bags and left us,” you looked away.

“Why would I do that?” he asked.

You simply shrugged.

“I’m not going to leave you,” you heard him softly say, “Not anytime soon, anyway.”

“Good,” you huffed, “Because I’d be super pissed off.”

“And I wouldn’t want to get on your bad side, huh?” he nudged you lightly, “Or I’d lose sponge bath privileges.”

“God, that was one time, and it was because you stank!” you groaned, “Never again.”

“Never?”

“Ever.”

You looked into his eyes then, twinkling playfully at you.

“What if I got sick?” he smirked, “Or shot? And I couldn’t get to the shower? And I started to stink so bad you wouldn’t want to stay next to me?”

“Then Alfred can give you your sponge bath,” you rolled your eyes.

“But what if I want it to be you?” he breathed, his voice a mere whisper.

“Then,” you leaned in closer, “I’d make you beg for it.”

He chuckled and left it at that.

***

The soft sheets wrapped around your almost bare legs, gently caressing your smooth skin. Your eyes had adjusted to the darkness already, since you’ve been laying in bed for about half an hour, staring at the ceiling.

“Has Gotham always been so bright?” Jason grumbled from next to you.

“What do you mean?”

“The city. It was so bright,” he complained.

“No, Gotham is gloomy, Jason. It’s a whole Gotham thing. Gloomy, rainy, cloudy, shithole,” you went on, “Streets are sticky for some reason. And then there’s always that weird smell going on. You ever notice that smell?”

“Seemed bright to me,” he ignored your question.

“That’s,” you turned on your side to face him. You could see the silhouette of his side profile looking upwards. The bump at his crooked nose bridge, the dip of his deep set eyes, even the length of his thick eyelashes. “Because you have been cooped up in the house for too long.”

“I’ve been out with you,” he mumbled, turning to face you as well. “To the park. The grocery store. It’s just the city. Seemed brighter.”

“Maybe because you’re looking at it from a new point of view?” you guessed, “Changed person and all, yada yada.”

“Maybe,” he snorted, “Doubt it. But whatever. It’s not important.”

From the new position, you were now closer to him. You could feel the slight brushes of his skin against yours whenever he took a breath.

“You don’t always have to dismiss something,” you told him softly, “Just because you can’t find the answer, doesn’t mean it’s not important.”

“Who the hell cares if Gotham is brighter or not?” he argued, “It doesn’t affect anyone. Not even me.”

“The questions you ask say a lot about the type of person you are,” you reasoned.

“And?” he breathed, “What type of person am I?”

You bit your lip when you saw his eyes flutter to your lips for just a second. “Perceptive. Introspective. Kind of an asshole, but that’s okay.”

He let out a breathy laugh that fanned warm breath across your face. Taking a deep breath, you sighed as you looked back at him, for no reason at all. You looked down at his lips for just a second and noticed it was ever so slightly parted. Relaxed.

“If you kiss me, I’ll bite your tongue off,” he stated.

You blinked. And then burst into a fit of giggles. “What makes you think I was going to kiss you?”

“You had that look in your eye,” he smirked, “The one that says that you wanted to kiss me. Don’t. I’m not joking. I’ll bite your tongue off.”

“You’re such a scary man, Jason,” you smiled at him endearingly.

“Really? I thought I had charm.”

“Charming people don’t say that they’re going to bite someone’s tongue off,” you laughed, “Dick would never do that.”

“Dick,” he snorted, “What does he know?”

“He knows not to say something like that to someone,” you grinned.

“But you kind of like it when I threaten you,” he pointed out.

“What? Since when?”

“Sweetheart, I technically choked you,” he reminded you, “I keep on saying that I’ll kill you over the smallest things. It’s either you’re dumb or kinky. I think I know which you’d rather be.”

“I’m not dumb, but the kinky one here is definitely you,” you insisted, “I saw the title of that video, Jason. Girl gets-”

“Stop,” he interjected you, “Don’t even. Ever.”

“My point exactly,” you grinned proudly at your win. “You’re the one with the kinky porn videos. You’re the one with the boner almost every night.”

“Can you blame me,” he groaned, “I’m a sexually frustrated eighteen year old who can’t bring himself to come. Give me a break.”

“You’re dragging me down with you,” you whined, “You think I’m not hormonal, too? I’m at the peak of my hormonal mess and my monthly cycles don’t help either.”

He let out a long sigh. “You can kick me out any time you want, you know. I won’t threaten you. Much.”

“I don’t mind you sleeping here,” you told him honestly, “I mean, it’s got its pros and cons. Cons like getting me all hot and bothered is the same category as you taking up all the space and stealing the covers.”

“And the pros?”

“You get to sleep peacefully,” you shrugged.

“But there’s nothing in it for you.”

I get to sleep next to you. I get to feel your arms around me.

You didn’t say that out loud. You were open with him, but not that open.

Instead, you turned around to face your back towards him. “I like cuddles. I used to cuddle with Dick when I was the one who had nightmares. So just shut up and cuddle me.”

The bed shifted, and you heard rustling, then Jason’s arm snaked around your waist and pulled you closer, flushed against his front.

“Jesus- Jason!” you whined.

“I told you, I can’t help it!” he defended himself.

You squirmed against him, unintentionally grinding your ass against his crotch, boner poking directly into your flesh.

“Hnng. Fuck. Stop moving so much, you’re making it worse.”

The sound he made and the ‘fuck’ he dropped sent shooting heat directly to your core.

Fucking hormones.

“You fucking stop sounding like that,” you shot back at him.

“What? Sounding like what?”

“All moany and breathy and- and swearing and shit.”

“What? Breathy?” he breathed.

“Yes, like you ran a fucking mile,” you said. “You’re panting like crazy, Jason.”

“So are you.”

“Am not.”

“Are too.”

“Am- fuck you,” you groaned, pushing back against him in reflex.

His grip on your waist tightened, but he chuckled. “If only.”

“Shut up,” you panted. “Ugh. This is literally peak horny teen phase.”

“Dry humping? Definitely. Just- just stop for a sec, Jesus.”

Your heavy breaths filled the dark and silent room. But only for a few seconds.

“Okay- I’m sorry- I can’t,” you sat up.

“Where are you going?”

“To the bathroom to… Relieve myself,” you winced at how bad that sounded.

“Like, to pee? Or..?”

“To fucking come, Jesus Christ,” you pressed the top of your nose bridge. “You may be able to hold it in, but I can’t.”

“Stay,” he instructed, catching your wrist.

“I said I can’t hold it in, you piece o-”

“Then don’t. Make yourself come. But do it here.”

You opened your mouth to argue, then closed it back, looking at him perplexed. “Like… The other day?”

He considered it for a second. “No. Not like the other day.”

“Then what?”

Propping himself up on his elbows, he gave you a mischievous grin. “I’ll drag the chair to face the bed and watch you.”

You immediately felt yourself blush, though the heat also went to your belly. “W-what? No way. That’s too embarrassing.”

“Nothing I haven’t seen,” he shrugged.

“You haven’t seen my… That,” you winced.

“That?” he smirked.

“Yes, that,” you repeated, “You haven’t seen it, and it’s embarrassing if you watched.”

“Sure, I haven’t seen yours,” he went on, “But a pussy is still a pussy, sweetheart. Not that I wouldn’t think yours is special- I’m sure it is.”

You pursed your lips, thoughts running quickly through your mind. On one hand, it was the first time you would bare yourself to someone else and you were nervous and shy about it. On the other hand, the thought of Jason watching you get yourself off was hot as fuck.

“Fine,” you conceded, horniness taking over your shyness, “But on one condition.”

“And what’s that?” he whispered, sitting up and leaning in closer to you.

“You gotta take out your dick and show it to me too,” you grinned.

“That,” he got off the bed and walked across the room to pull a chair from your desk, “I can do.”

He switched on the lamp on your desk, illuminating the room dimly with warm light and positioned the chair to face the foot of your bed and sat down, grinning so unbelievably wide for his standards that you were sure his cheeks would start to hurt soon.

Without a moment’s hesitation, he pulled down his sweatpants to his knees, revealing his cock with a small slap on his pubic bone- erect, thick, long, hard, and judging from the way the light from the little light of the desk lamp reflected on it, wet at the tip with precum.

Your jaw dropped at the sight of him smirking away, leaning comfortably back into your chair, legs now slightly parted. Shirtless Jason was something you had trouble getting used to, your imagination running wild whenever you saw him in that state.

But your view of him right now? You made sure to burn it into your mind because that would be your permanent spank bank material.

How you wished you could ask if you could take a picture.

“I know I’m a sight, sweetheart,” he chuckled, “But you’re the one who said that you couldn’t hold it in anymore.”

He was right. Since Jason took off his pants, you were already dizzy with heat that spread from your core.

“Jesus, Jason,” you breathed, hand cupping your own cunt and grinding it to relieve some pressure. “You’re insanely- just- Jesus.

He smiled at you softly, his hands both on each respective arm rest, not touching himself at all. “You don’t have to take off anything if you don’t want to. You can just do it under the sheets if you want.”

“Hell no, you changed my mind,” you shook your head, proceeding to take off your sleeping shorts, “Now I’m just horny as fuck, I don’t care anymore.”

You threw your shorts to the floor and leaned back onto some propped pillows. Spreading your legs slowly, you welcomed the cold air that brushed softly against your folds.

“Holy shit,” you heard him gasp.

And then out of nowhere, you started to get nervous again. Your hands went between your legs and hid your pussy from his view.

Jason must have noticed your change in body language, because he sat up straight and tried to reassure you again. “I know it’s your first time showing yourself to someone- hell, it’s mine too. But you don’t have to worry. You’ve already seen me at my worst. I have way more reason to be embarrassed than you do. And right now you’re showing your best to me. You’re so fucking beautiful.”

Your heart fluttered at his words, and what do you know? You felt yourself easing back into the mood again.

“O-okay,” you nodded, and then slowly spread your legs wider, removing your hands from obstructing his view.

You noticed him lean forward, his heavy breaths audible to you in the silence of the room. With much more confidence than before, you started to slowly circle your clit, breathing out a small moan.

“Fuck,” you heard him breathe.

You were wet, wetter than you thought you would be, and Jason cursing while watching you touch yourself did wonders to your body.

Increasing the pace to one you were most used to, you let out another moan, louder than before.

“Shit, sweetheart,” he gasped, “I can see how wet you are from here.”

“It’s your fault,” you whined, “You made me like this.”

“Well, you made me like this,” he groaned, gesturing to his raging erection. It was twitching against his lower stomach, leaving a trail of wetness on his skin as it oozed precum.

“Jason,” you purred, slipping a finger inside of you while you rubbed on your clit.

“Fucking- hnng-”

Glancing back at him, you saw the way he gripped the arm rest, knuckles white, muscles taut. He looked like he was being tortured.

You let out a laugh.

“What?” he angrily bit at you.

“You look like you’re in pain,” you giggled, fingers still working at your cunt.

“I am,” he grit, “My cock wants to be touched so bad, it hurts. You make my cock hurt, sweetheart.”

“Oh,” your eyes fluttered close at the sudden spark. You really did like it when he talked dirty to you.

“I swear I’ve never been so hard in my life,” he groaned, “You make me so hard, baby.”

Baby.

He had never called you that before, but you didn’t want it to be the first and last time.

It wasn’t like his ‘sweetheart’, where he would call you that even in front of Alfred or Dick or Bruce. It wasn’t an innocent nickname or term of endearment that he threw around just for the sake of it.

It was the way it just naturally came to him as the word rolled off his tongue, the way his voice husky and laced with lust made it sound dirty, a secret that just both of you shared.

It was the way he breathed it out, the way he almost stuttered when he pronounced the consonants, the way it was a mix of a small whine and a groan.

It was enough to drive you to the edge of your climax.

“Jason,” you let out a breathy whisper so soft you didn’t know if he heard it.

“You want to come don’t you, baby?” he coaxed you, “I’m not going to come, so you better come for me in my place, sweetheart.”

“Jason.”

“Yeah, that’s it. Come for me hard. Come on, baby. Come for me.”

The finger that you had fucking your own cunt was dripping wet as you fucked yourself harder, as you rubbed yourself faster, as you watched the way Jason bit his lip hard enough to draw blood while he watched you with hooded eyes, cock twitching and begging for attention that he wouldn’t give.

His eyes locked with your own.

“Come for me, baby.”

And you did. Your breaths stuttering, your mouth opened in a silent scream, your toes curling at the white hot sensations that spread from them to the rest of your body as your pussy clenched and fluttered over your single finger.

“Holy fuck-”

“Fuck,” you panted, a wave of fatigue crashed over you as you came down from your high.

You looked over at Jason, and to your surprise, he had his head in his hands, his elbows on his knee. Silent, but obviously filled with tension.

“Jason, are you okay?” you voiced your concern.

“Yeah- just- give me a minute,” he answered with a strained voice.

Watching Jason with worry, you saw the way his hands were also fisting and tugging slightly at his hair.

“Jason-”

He got up and pulled up his pants, and then walked to the door.

“Where are you going?”

“To get a glass of ice cold water to stick my dick in,” he snapped, “Fucking hell, sweetheart. You’re going to fucking kill me.”

***

There were a number of scenarios that you felt were so ridiculous, you didn't think it would actually happen in real life- until it did.

One of them was the fact that you got adopted by billionaire Bruce Wayne, whom you later found out was the Batman himself- accurately confirming the online conspiracy theories you had laughed at on Reddit at four in the morning- and then you becoming Robin. It was so utterly ridiculous, that even then you were questioning whether or not it was all a dream and you were going to wake up in your bed that had springs poking into your back and sheets that were definitely infested with dust mites.

Another scenario was the current president becoming president in the first place- which was a shock to everyone else as much as it was to you at the time.

Which brought you to the current scenario you never thought would happen. In fact, it was so random that the thought itself never even crossed your mind.

Jason Todd sitting across the dining table from you with a murderous glare in his eyes, holding a plate of red velvet cake, wearing a bright pink glittery party hat that only slightly ruffled his gelled hair, a sequined pink tank top that oddly suited his physique and bright pink eyeshadow that brought out the blue in his eyes. His stare was directed to both you, and Alex who was sitting next to you.

How did you get there?

It wasn’t a party party, but more like you inviting your three friends over to the Manor in celebration of your birthday. Natalie had chosen a theme which she demanded everyone follow.

You were just finished setting the table with Dick when you heard a voice from behind you.

“Am I invited?”

Turning around, you saw Jason with his arms crossed and an eyebrow cocked up.

“Well, yes,” you blinked, “Of course. I just didn’t think you’d want to be downstairs with strangers around. I’m sorry, I should have asked anyway. I didn’t want to put you on the spot.”

“It’s fine,” he rolled his eyes, “How many people are coming anyway?”

“Just my three friends.”

“I can handle three people.”

“But can you handle pink?” Dick interrupted, grinning mischievously.

“What?”

“We have a theme, Jason,” you laughed, “You have to wear pink.”

Dick himself was sporting a tight baby pink t-shirt that had the words MY ASS IS TIGHTER THAN THIS SHIRT in black, bold, capital letters. He paired it with fuschia pink shorts that did in fact make his ass look tighter than the t-shirt.

“I don’t have anything pink,” he frowned.

You looked at Dick just as Dick looked at you.

“Fuck, I know that look,” Jason started to shake his his head, “No. No way.”

“I was in between outfits, so I brought them both,” Dick started to chat excitedly, “Let me go and grab it.”

“I don’t want to wear anything you think is nice, Grayson!” Jason yelled at him when he rushed to his room.

“Oh, his style isn’t that bad,” you defended Dick.

“Sweetheart, you weren’t around to see that God awful Nightwing suit with the frills,” Jason shot back at you.

“Hey, I was just discovering myself then,” Dick came back, “Here.”

He threw something at Jason.

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No way in hell.”

“Jason, you have to!” you whined and pouted at him, “Please? It’s my birthday.”

“Fucking- fine!”

And that was how you convinced Jason to put on Dick’s pink sequined tank top. The party hat and eyeshadow came next. You learned something pivotal that night.

Jason couldn’t resist it when you pouted and batted your eyelashes at him.

The doorbell rang, saving you from the argument Dick and Jason were having.

“I think the pink eyeshadow brings out the blue in your eyes-”

“Your eyes are blue, too, dumbfuck!” Jason was yelling, “Why aren’t you wearing any?”

“I’m already too pink! You’re wearing black pants- you can handle a little more.”

“I swear to God, I’m gonna-”

“We need to take a picture-”

“I will fucking murder-”

“Hey guys!” you opened the door to reveal your three pink and sparkly friends.

“Babe, you look so amazing!” Natalie squealed, “See, I knew pink was your color!”

“Pink is everyone’s color, Nat,” Sarah interjected, “But I agree, you do look good in that.”

“You guys didn’t compliment me that much when you saw me,” Alex grumbled, nudging you aside to enter without waiting for an invitation.

“Because she slays, and you don’t, Alex!” Natalie followed suit.

“I worked hard on this outfit!” Alex argued back.

You closed the door behind Sarah as your friends made their way into your home towards the living room. They have been there countless times, already familiar with your family.

“Hello there, Dick,” you heard Natalie purr.

Sarah, Alex and you rolled your eyes.

“Nice to see you again, kid,” Dick chuckled.

“Oh come on, Dick!” Natalie whined, “Stop calling me that. I’m not a-”

“Good evening Mr. Wayne,” Alex cleared his throat at Bruce’s arrival, going in for a handshake.

“It’s Bruce, lad,” Bruce smiled warmly.

You didn’t have any inappropriate thoughts for your adoptive father, but he looked good in pink.

“Thanks for having us, Bruce,” Sarah shook his hand as well.

“Yes, Bruce, thank you for- oh, hello there.”

Jason had just walked in from the kitchen, pouting and blushing over how he looked, but was caught unaware at Natalie’s greeting.

“And who are you?” she grinned, throwing a knowing look at you.

“Ah, this is my cousin’s son,” Bruce said, “He’s been staying with us for a while.”

“Jason,” Jason fucking smiled charmingly at Natalie.

Expecting the worst, you were impressed by how relaxed and at ease he looked. Shaking your head to yourself, you thought about how truly skilled and trained Jason was to be able to blend in when he tried.

“Oh,” Alex gave a sound of recognition, “So you’re Jason.”

You were also expecting Jason to throw punches the moment his name left Alex’s lips, but he only narrowed his eyes at Alex. “You.”

“Am I missing something?” Sarah asked.

Alex was grinning, and you recognized that grin. It was the grin he made whenever he was up to no good.

Oh, god.

And surely enough, he threw his arms around your shoulders and brought you closer to his side.

“You’re the one I sent that selfie to,” Alex chuckled, “You should thank me. She would never have sent you a picture of herself half naked otherwise.”

“I don’t need a picture of her half naked when I’ve seen everything in real life.”

In the distance, you heard Dick spat out a drink you didn’t realise he had.

“Okay, I think dinner is ready,” you quickly interjected, prying yourself from Alex’s grip, paying close attention to the way Jason clenched his jaw.

You settled to sit down at the dining table, Sarah taking a seat next to you, Natalie taking a seat next to Dick. The other seat beside you was empty- until Alex rushed to sit down, beating Jason by a beat, who ended up sitting across from you in between Natalie and Bruce.

“What are you doing?” you hissed at Alex.

“You’ll thank me later,” he whispered back with a wink, leaning in a little closer than he usually did.

Sarah had gotten into a conversation with Bruce regarding New York, Natalie was flirting with Dick who seemed to enjoy the attention, which left you, Jason and Alex.

“So, Jason,” Alex spoke up.

Again, you winced internally when he said Jason’s name, but Jason merely looked up from his food and raised an eyebrow. Was this it? Did he not care for it anymore?

“How old are you?”

“Nineteen.”

“Oh,” Alex blinked, “I thought you were older.”

“The scars make me look older,” Jason’s mouth twisted into a grin, “Want to know how I got ‘em?”

“Jason,” you warned.

“I don’t want to pry,” Alex said.

“I was in a gang,” Jason smirked, “I got caught by a rival gang one time, and they shoved a knife in my mouth. That’s how I got this one.”

He pointed to the scar on his lips that twisted his smirk upwards even more. You frowned to yourself, asking the silent question. Was that what Joker did to him?

“How about the one on your nose?” Alex asked excitedly.

“Alex!” you smacked his arm.

“It’s fine,” Jason shrugged, “Someone hit me with a crowbar, broke my nose too.”

“The one near your eye?”

“Slammed my face against a wall.”

“Stop it,” you whispered.

“Cheek?”

“Huh, I don’t remember. I have so many. I think it was-”

“Stop it,” you said louder, glaring at Jason.

You didn’t want to hear how he got his injuries, you didn’t like the way he took it so easy.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” Jason’s eyes turned soft, “Didn’t mean to upset you.”

You felt Alex’s stare on you, probably trying to read your emotions. He was always good at that.

“Anyway,” Alex changed the subject, “You got a girlfriend?”

You groaned internally. You didn’t know why Alex thought you would thank him later.

“No.”

“Badass guy like you, I’m sure you have a few lining up,” he coaxed.

“Hmm. Maybe just the one,” Jason smirked, looking at you.

“Oh, God,” you groaned out loud this time, feeling your ears burn with embarrassment.

“What, her?” Alex scoffed, “Nah. She doesn’t usually go for guys like you.”

“Shut the fuck up, Alex.”

“Then what kind of guy does she usually go for?” Jason grit, clenching his fists around his knife a little bit too tight.

Alex snaked his arm around your waist and looked at Jason straight in the eyes before answering, “Guys like me. We used to date.”

You were going to fucking murder your best friend- if Jason didn’t murder him first.

Ever since finding Jason in that cell, you had seen many sides to him. The white hot rage that borderline insanity in his eyes for the first few weeks, the empty glassy look he had whenever he stared into space, the panic when you brought him out the first time, the lust he showed only a few nights ago, the laugh and comfort and ease that was slowly brought out which he showed not only with you anymore, but with Alfred and Dick too.

So this was the first time you got to see another expression on him.

Calm, cold and focused anger. A look that sent shivers down your spine, much scarier than when he lashed out at you and choked you a year ago when he was still unstable.

Shit.

You looked over at Alex, thinking that he would start cowering as well and finally put an end to whatever he was planning.

But Alex, the stupid dumbfuck, was still smirking at Jason with a challenging look on his face.

You were going to say something to correct him, but Alfred brought out the cake.

And that’s how you found yourself in that unbelievably dumb scenario.

The rest of the night, Jason was relatively quiet, only answering questions coming from anyone except Alex. Not like Alex was trying to talk to Jason anymore. No, he opted for a more physical approach that even raised eyebrows from Sarah and Natalie.

He started touching you, squeezing next to you on the sofa, leaning in closely to your ear to whisper unintelligible words.

And whenever you pushed him away and tried to scold him, he simply answered with a “You’ll thank me later.” or “Trust me.”

Finally the night came to an end, and with lots of tears from you, Sarah and Natalie- as it was going to be the last time you saw each other for a while. It wasn’t really a separation issue, it was just symbolic.

The four of you had been friends since elementary, and now you were finally going your own way.

You felt Jason and Dick watch your teary goodbyes from afar.

It was Alex’s turn to say his goodbye, but instead of opening his mouth, he just went in for a bone crushing hug. The two of you stayed that way for a minute, and then Alex released you.

“You’ll thank me later,” he said again, and then leaned in unexpectedly to give you a light kiss right at the corner of your mouth.

In the background, you heard Dick chuckle.

You felt yourself flush. He stepped back, winked at you, and then left.

***

“I had a lot of fun tonight,” you smiled at your reflection while combing your hair at the dresser. Jason was sitting on your bed behind you- cleaned and changed. “I’m going to miss them a lot.”

“Yeah.”

You frowned. Jason had been grouchy all night.

At first you thought it was the choice of outfit for him, but he seemed to not mind it in the end. And then you reckoned it was the fact that he had to be around strangers the whole night, but even now he was sour with just the both of you in your room.

Alex must have gotten to him real bad. You were definitely going to give him a piece of your mind later.

You set down your comb and walked to stand in front of him. “You okay there, buddy?”

His frown was deep when he looked up at you, and his lips were in a pout. “No.”

“What’s wrong?” you coaxed.

Suddenly, he stood up, towering above you. “You told me that there was nothing going on between you and Alex.”

“There isn’t,” you reassured, “He was just messing with you. He likes to do that when... “

“When?”

“When he thinks I like someone,” you carefully said, “He tries to make them jealous. It’s not the first time he’s done this.”

“The two of you used to go out?”

“In middle school, Jason!” you sighed exasperatedly, “For like two months before we realised we were better off as friends. He still brings it up to mess with people.”

He narrowed his eyes at you. “I’m still frustrated.”

“Why?”

“Because it worked,” he stated. “Because I get jealous whenever he touched you. Because I wanted to murder him when he kissed you.”

“It wasn’t even on the mouth,” you rolled your eyes, “It was just for show.”

“Well, it fucking worked, didn’t it,” he growled, his hands flying to your hips. “That smug little bastard. Am I really not the type of guy you’d go for?”

“I haven’t met anyone like you, Jason,” you smiled, resting your hands on his chest.

His eyes softened, and he leaned in closer to you, a breath away from touching his lips to yours. “Are you going to bite my tongue off if I kiss you?”

“I’m not a fucking savage like-”

And then he did it, finally, after months of sexual tension, he finally kissed you. Soft and gentle at first as if testing the waters. And then as both of you got the hang of it, his kiss turned into one that was heavy and hard and desperate, as though you were going to run away from him if he didn’t make you stay with his mouth.

He pushed you against the wall, his hands roaming all over you, gripping and squeezing and massaging, while he forced his tongue inside your mouth to explore.

“I want you,” he gasped, going down to your neck to leave love bites, “I’ve wanted you for so long.”

You wanted him too, more than just his body, more than what you had, but you stopped yourself. Because you weren’t supposed to.

“Jason,” you panted, “St-stop.”

And just like that, he did. He wrenched his hands away from you as if he was shocked by electricity and looked down at you with worry in his eyes. “What’s wrong?”

“You don’t… You don’t want me,” you said solemnly, “Not in the way I want you.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m just… I’m just the first person you opened yourself up to after a traumatizing event,” you explained, “It’s natural for you to develop a dependency, and I don’t blame you for it, but-”

“You think that’s what this is?” he hissed, “Dependency?”

“It’s like when a patient falls in love with their therapist. It happens and it’s normal and-”

“Fuck you,” he seethed. “You think I can’t tell the difference between wanting you and- and needing you?”

You pursed your lips and simply looked at him, unsure of what to say.

“I don’t fucking need you,” he sneered, “And I’ll fucking prove it.”

In a blink, he left the room.

“What? Wait- Jason!” you followed after him.

He was in his room, throwing his things into a duffel bag.

Your heart sank at the realisation.

“What are you doing?” you whispered.

“I’m leaving,” he said.

“Why?”

“You think I’m so fucking helpless?” he aggressively shoved his clothes into the bag, “You think that I can’t fucking be like a normal person? Well, I’ll just show you how fucking independent I can be.”

“You don’t have to do this, Jason,” you tried, “It’s not about trying to prove your point! This is about your mental health and wellbeing and-”

“STOP FUCKING DOING THAT!” he yelled, causing you to jump. “Stop fucking babying me. I’m not a patient and you’re definitely not my therapist. You’re just a stupid girl who thinks she knows me better than I know myself!”

“Jason, I-”

“How can I be normal again when you’re scared of being normal with me!” he continued, “You didn’t even tell me that you had people coming over to celebrate your birthday because you were worried that I couldn’t handle it! Did you think I was going to strangle anyone who said my name tonight? Did you think I was going to suddenly flip a switch and break down because they were strangers?”

“That’s because I actually care for-”

“I know!” he shouted, before taking a deep breath. “I know you do. And I know you mean well. But this was bound to happen sooner or later. I need to get back on my own fucking feet without you offering your fucking hand whenever I fall down.”

“But, you’re not-”

A warm but firm hand on your shoulder stopped you in your tracks. You turned to see Bruce looking at Jason with his eyebrows knitted together, his lips downturned- he was the Bruce underneath the mask.

Jason stood up straight and looked at him in defiance.

A moment’s silence. And then-

“Do what you need to do. But don’t forget that you are always welcomed here. Call me if you need anything. And I mean anything.”

You gaped silently at Bruce.

Jason nodded at him, giving a small smile.

“Bruce, you can’t just let him leave! This is irrational, and spontaneous, and uncalculated-”

“He’s his own man,” Bruce stated, “He knows what he needs. And I trust him enough to know he will be okay. You should too.”

And with that, Bruce left.

You couldn’t do anything but silently watch Jason resume his packing, and when he was done, you watched him carry his bag to the Manor door.

“I’ll see you again. Whenever.”

And you were left there alone, on the night you turned eighteen, heartbroken over a man who deserved more than what the world gave him.

***

“He hasn’t slept for more than four hours ever since… Ever since he escaped,” you told Dick who had just arrived.

It had been two months after Jason left. He never contacted you once, and if he did contact Bruce, you wouldn’t have known about it.

“And you? How are you doing?” Dick sat down on the sofa next to you.

“The usual,” you shrugged, “Tired. I’d worry more about Bruce.”

“It’s not like it’s the first time Joker’s escaped from Arkham,” Dick stated, “Bruce knows what he needs to do.”

“But it’s the first time he’s escaped with zero evidence,” you explained, “No evidence, no witnesses, nothing. Even Harley doesn’t know what happened. And we have no idea where he is now. I think that’s what’s bothering Bruce the most.”

“Well, it’s only been two weeks since the escape,” Dick sighed, “He’s bound to appear sooner or later.”

“Isn’t that why you’re here? To help?”

“Yeah,” he hummed, “Hey, have you seen the news lately? About that guy who’s running around beating up criminals?”

“The vigilante wannabe?” you snorted, “Sure. He’s a joke. Zero class whatsoever.”

“Do you think it could be..?”

“No,” you shook your head, “I’ve thought about it, but no. He’s just another thug.”

“What makes you so sure?”

“Jason wouldn’t rub me off the wrong way like this Red Hood does,” you crinkled your nose, “There’s just something I don’t like about this guy. I think it’s the way he thinks he’s so good. Challenging us like that.”

“Challenging us?”

“Dick, he’s got a blood red bat-symbol on his chest!” you threw your arms up, “It’s insulting- and obviously a mockery.”

“He’s clearing the streets though,” Dick gave you an amused expression, “He’s doing good.”

“He’s an asshole who uses guns to threaten people.”

“He hasn’t actually killed anyone.”

“Yet,” you grumbled, “When you’re that armed, you probably mean business. People are afraid of him. They don’t respect him. Not the way Batman earned his respect.”

“What does Bruce think of him?”

“Nothing. I’m telling you, Dick, he’s just another thug. Besides, Bruce has bigger problems to worry about. Like a lunatic clown that kidnapped his son and tortured him for years being on the loose.”

***

Another two months passed since Joker broke out of Arkham, and Bruce was still obsessing over him.

You couldn’t blame Bruce, obviously. The way he spoke about Joker had never been the same ever since Jason came back. You suspected that he pieced together what that sick bastard had done to Jason, not that Bruce ever said anything about it.

The last time it had rained that heavily while you were on patrol, you had gotten shot. Since then, the bullet wound scar on your back tingled slightly every time you were out in the rain. You knew it was all in your head.

Separated from Batman, you were patrolling downtown, looking down at the alleyways from the rooftops of run down shopping lots. Bruce had made your cape lighter and waterproof after your accident and complaints, so at least you weren’t completely drenched.

But it was still cold.

It was a slow night- as slow as any rainy night would be. A shiver ran down your spine violently. Anyone who was out that night were either crazy, or desperate. The wind was howling, the rain left thunderous pelts as it hit the ground.

And then you heard it, a loud BANG of a gun being fired.

Your head snapped to the direction of the sound, and you grappled- only a few blocks over before you saw the source.

It was the man they called Red Hood, big and bulky, wearing all black except for a leather vest that had a red hood attached to it, pulled up. The red bat symbol on his chest looked as if it was glowing angrily at the whimpering man on the floor.

“Get out of here before I shoot your other knee, you fucking sick pervert,” you heard him growl.

The man scrambled up and limped away.

You saw it as an opportunity to finally confront the asshole, so you dropped down to the alley, right behind him.

That close, you could see how big he was. Broad shoulders, massive biceps, tight fucking ass-

“And who gave you permission to wear that symbol on your chest?” you sneered.

You had expected him to jump in surprise at your voice, but he didn’t. He just stayed there, his back towards you, his smoking gun in his right hand.

You frowned angrily. You made sure to be quiet, and with the rain, it was almost impossible for a stupid thug like him to hear you.

“I’m talking to you, asshole!” you yelled heatedly. “Who the fuck do you think you are?”

He slowly turned to face you, revealing an odd red metal mask that covered his whole face except his forehead.

“They call me Red Hood,” he answered, voice muffled. “Haven’t you been reading the news?”

You clenched your jaw at his teasing, arrogant tone.

“That symbol is reserved only for people who deserve it,” you scowled.

“Is that why you don’t wear the symbol, then?”

“I- you-” you gaped furiously, “I’ll fucking rip it off you.”

He chuckled. “If you wanted me to see me shirtless, you could have just asked, sweetheart.”

You were going to throw another round of insults at him, until you recognized his words.

No. No fucking way.

Dick was right?!

“Jason?” you whispered.

He pulled down his hood, and took off his mask to reveal a grinning Jason. “Miss me?”

“But- you- no- but-” you stuttered, “You’re huge! What the fuck?”

“Let’s get out of the rain, and I can show you how huge I really am,” he winked at you.

You felt your face burn despite the cold. So he was extra flirtatious now, too?

“Where?” you asked.

“My safe house.”

“I need to tell Batman.”

“So tell him.”

You pressed onto the gadget in your ear. “Batman. I found Red Hood. He’s… Him. I’m going with him. Is that okay?”

“Affirmative. I’ll see you back at the Cave.”

You looked at Jason. “Lead the way.”

***

“This isn’t your safehouse, this is Batman’s!” you gasped when you walked down the small staircase that led you underground.

“Yep,” Jason replied, taking off his glove to key in a passcode and scan his thumbprint. “I found out he added my print to all his safehouses in Gotham.”

“So he knew where you were the whole time?”

“Yeah. He didn’t tell you?”

“No,” you grumbled, walking into the familiar looking space.

All of Bruce’s safehouses looked the same. The small emergency ones, at least. It was a small room with nothing but a bed, a first aid station, a toilet with a shower, and a small armoury. He had bigger ones for bigger emergencies, but this was more like a safe stop for when he needed to quickly recover.

“This was the only favor I accepted from him,” he suddenly said defensively, “I’ve been getting by without his help for everything else. Even my weapons are my own.”

“That’s good,” you smiled, “I’m glad you’re doing okay.”

You took off your mask and clipped off your cape, but your vision was suddenly gone. Jason had threw a towel on top of your head.

“Dry yourself off, you’ll get everything wet,” he grunted.

You scruffled your wet hair with the towel and then proceeded to take off your boots and gloves.

“So when were you planning on coming back?” you sat on his bed and watched him take off his weapons and the vest.

“I don’t know,” he simply shrugged.

“So you just didn’t really have a plan?”

“I did. And I went through with it. Now I’m not sure.”

“Not sure about- Jesus, do you really have to do that here?” you asked.

Jason was peeling off his skin tight black undershirt. “My safehouse, my rules.”

“But you have a bathroom, don’t you?” you desperately asked. He was unbuckling his belt, and you forced yourself to look away.

“Yeah.”

“So go change there. I’ll wait here.”

“Are you blushing?”

“No, just go!”

“Look at me.”

“No.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw him moving closer to you to stand right in front of you. You felt his grip on your chin, forcing you to turn your head up towards him. There, you met his eyes, intense and bright- brighter than they were before.

“Is it distracting for you?” he smirked, “I worked hard, you know.”

You gulped at the sudden closeness. It had been months since you last spoke to him, and the unexpectedly close contact didn’t help with your nervousness.

He bent down and took your hand in his free one, bringing it up to place it flat against his bare chest, his hot skin burning into yours.

“Can’t you feel the difference?” he muttered, bringing your hand down his chest to his stomach, now sporting a fucking defined eight pack. You refused to look anywhere else but his eyes. “No? Well, how about here, then.”

He pushed your hand down to his crotch, and you definitely could feel how hard he was already.

“Jason!” you gasped, widening your eyes.

He let out a chuckle before crashing his lips against yours, his weight causing you to fall backwards onto the bed. Climbing over you, he started licking at your lips, gently prodding his tongue into your mouth. All the while, your hand didn’t leave his crotch, even though he had released you from his grip.

And you felt him get harder and larger by the second.

“Jason,” you moaned, heat tingling at your core.

You had missed him. Missed his laughs, his glares and insults, his arms around you at night, even his boner poking you annoyingly in the ass.

“Baby.”

And there it was, his baby.

You started to palm his length through his pants, earning a gasp from him that you swallowed.

“Have I proven myself to you?” he panted, going to nibble your earlobe. “I don’t need you. I want you. Fuck, I want you so bad.”

“Okay, holy shit, fine!” you conceded, your hands travelling up his body to caress him, to feel him. “I… I want you to. I’ve wanted you for so long, but…”

“But you didn’t want to take advantage of my emotional instability,” he scoffed. “I know. And I appreciate it. But how about right now?”

“Right now I just really want you to fuck me,” you breathed.

“Fucking hell,” he chuckled, “Okay, sweetheart.”

He started kissing you again, nipping at your lips while he tried to take off your uniform- but failed.

“Why the fuck is this more complicated than mine was?” he complained.

“Because I’m the new and improved Robin,” you winked at him, helping him find all the hidden zips and clasps and buttons. Soon enough, you were in your underwear.

“Fuck, you look better without some fucking guy’s arm around you,” he started kissing your chest, squeezing your breasts through your bra.

“Are you still not over that?” you laughed.

“I get pissed every time I think of it,” he grumbled. His hands went to your back and unhooked your bra, which he pulled away. “Fuck, you’re beautiful.”

And then he attacked your nipples. Biting and sucking on one side with his mouth, and squeezing and twisting and tugging the other with his fingers.

“Jason, please,” you whined, raising your hips to meet his for any kind of friction. You could feel his heavy length on your inner thigh.

“So impatient,” he chuckled, a hand snaking down your body and underneath the band of your underwear. “It took me so long before I could even come, baby. Remember?”

“Hnngh,” you groaned when he started to run his finger up and down your wet folds, “And you still haven’t?”

He paused and looked at you with a grin.

“Oh my god, you have?” you exclaimed.

“Yeah,” he smiled, giving you another peck on the lips. “It was about a month ago. Slow night. Excess energy. I was lying in bed.”

He slid off your panties with little trouble, and now you were completely exposed to him. You thought you would have gotten shy at one point, but you were so excited to have him there, to have him do things to you, that you didn’t care.

“And I was thinking of you,” he whispered in your ear, his warm breath tickling, “I was thinking about what you were up to. Whether you went out for patrol, because it was raining that night.”

He started circling on your clit slowly with a consistent pressure, causing you to squirm in his arms.

“And I never told you this, but one of the reasons why I waited for you to come back after patrol is because I fucking love seeing you in your uniform,” he continued, “Sweaty, disheveled, flushed with adrenaline, blood pumping. And wet when it rains.”

He stopped working on your clit, but then gently inserted a finger into your hole, making you groan as he went in knuckle deep and then started to slide it out and in and out and in.

“And I just imagined you in your room taking off your uniform. Piece by fucking piece, I could see it in my head, you sighing and frowning because you’re so tired, and just want to shower. And then my cock started to get hard, because I’m thinking of you naked with water running down your skin.”

He curled his finger upwards, pressing against that spot inside you that made you breathless.

“And before I know it, my pants are off and I’m fisting my cock,” he went on, his voice husky, “For the first time, I was actually touching myself and I wanted to come. And all I could think about was you, baby. I thought about how you looked like when you presented your pussy to me that night. I thought about how wet you would be if you were touching yourself at the same time I was.”

With his thumb, he circled on your clit while he fucked your pussy with his finger. It was a little uncoordinated, but it felt amazing all the same.

“And that just opened a lot of doors for me,” he chuckled, “Not that I never thought about it before then, but I was really focused on how you would look like underneath me while I fucked you. I thought about how you would look like with your lips around my cock. I thought about how you would taste.”

He increased his pace, and your eyes were closed then, rolling to the back of your head.

“And then I just knew it, baby. I had to come. Then and there. So I did.”

Fuck, you were on the edge already.

“I fucking came all over myself, moaning your name.”

“Jason.”

“That’s it, sweetheart. Come.”

And you did. You felt your pussy clench around his fingers, your breath stuttering as he made you come.

“Holy shit,” you laughed, “Where the fuck did you learn how to do that?”

“Let’s just hope I’m as good at fucking as I am at fingering you,” he grinned, taking off his pants finally to reveal his hard and leaking cock.

“Fuck, Jason, I want you inside me. Right fucking now,” you whined, spreading your legs for him.

“Patience, sweetheart,” he tapped your clit with his dick, “We gotta take it slow. It’s- it’s my first time too so I’m not sure- I just- fuck, just let me know if it hurts, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Okay, I’m gonna-”

“Ow!”

“What’s wrong?” he panicked, “I haven’t even put it in yet!”

“Yeah, I know, I was just joking,” you giggled.

“Sunnova- fuck you,” he growled, “It’s not funny. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Don’t worry, Jason,” you reassured, “Just take it slow. I’ll let you know if it hurts.”

He nodded, and fuck, you could see him gulp in nervousness. It was fucking adorable.

“I’m going to put it in now.”

You nodded, bracing yourself.

Feeling the tip of his dick press into your entrance, you moaned in pleasure at the slight stretch. It felt rubbery, and you didn’t even notice when he put the condom on.

He pushed in slowly, checking to see if he was hurting you.

“Ah!” you gasped out loud, “Wait, just stay there for a bit.”

“Shit, okay, I’m sorry,” he replied.

“It’s fine, it just stings a bit,” you breathed in deeply. “Need to get used to it. Your cock is huge.”

“And your pussy is tight,” he groaned, “Fuck, I could just come right now.”

You waited for a few more seconds, and then nodded at him. He pushed in a bit again, and you could see how hard he was holding back.

“Pause, pause,” you gasped, “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” he leaned forward, burying his face in your neck, “You feel so good. So fucking good.”

“And your cock is massive, Jason, Jesus,” you laughed, “Okay, you can put the rest in now.”

And finally, Jason bottomed out, leaving you feeling full and stretched, and fuck. It still hurt a bit, but for some reason, it wasn’t enough. You wanted more. You wanted him to move.

“You can move now, but slowly please,” you requested.

You felt him nod against your neck, and then he started moving his hips extremely slow, sliding his cock almost all the way out until just the tip, and then pushing it back in.

Jason’s cock filled you up in a way that your walls were already clenching around him. He was already hitting every fucking spot inside of you, which was what made it feel so good in the first place despite the stretch.

“Baby,” he choked. You never heard him like that before. He almost sounded like he was in pain.

“You can go a little faster now, Jay,” you told him.

“I- I can’t,” he said.

“Why not?” you breathed.

“Shut up,” he groaned, continuing the slow and steady pace that already had you nearly spilling over again.

“Jason, fuck,” you moaned. “Please. Faster.”

“No.”

“Jason,” you almost sobbed, “Please.”

“If I go any faster, I’m gonna come,” he growled in your ear.

“Then come, Jason, please,” you cried, “Please fuck me faster and come with me, please.”

“Fucking- fine!” he gave up, and then increased his pace, knocking the breath out of you.

You didn’t feel it approaching like all your previous orgasms. There wasn’t a build of heat that shot sparks to your toes.

No. It came in suddenly, like an attack of sensations that made you writhe and scream while being fucked steadily for the first time by Jason Todd.

“Fuck, baby,” Jason groaned into your neck, burying his face in your skin while he moved his hips, “Fuck. Fuck. Baby.”

And with a long moan of your name, you felt his dick twitch inside of you, his breath stuttering, a hand that was supporting his weight went to grip your hips tightly.

“Fuck,” he sighed, and he collapsed on top of you, cock still inside.

“Jason, you’re heavy,” you giggled, trying to push him off.

“Lemme get myself outta you.”

“Ah!” you moaned when he slid himself out slowly, still sensitive.

“Fuck, sweetheart, don’t go making those sounds or you’re gonna get me hard again.”

“I can’t help it,” you sighed, watching him tie the condom and tossing it. “Your cock feels good.”

“Don’t,” he groaned, landing on the bed next to you, wrapping an arm around your waist, his face close to yours. “Don’t say anything dirty.”

“Okay,” you giggled, snuggling in close to him. “Jason?”

“Yeah?”

“Can you come back now? Please?”

He hesitated before he answered. “I don’t know if Bruce would take me back.”

“What do you mean?” you frowned.

“You guys never found Joker, did you?”

You stiffened. “What did you do?” you whispered.

“I gave him what he deserved,” Jason answered, “And more.”

You stared at him in shock. “You broke him out of Arkham. That’s why there was zero evidence.”

“Yeah,” he sighed, “It wasn’t easy, but I did. And I made him pay for everything.”

You reached out your hand to caress his cheek. “Are you okay?”

“I am,” he smiled at you, “They all say that revenge wouldn’t make you feel better. That you’d still feel empty inside. But not for me. It- it gave me closure. It healed me because… Because I know that he can’t get his hands on you and do to you what he did to me.”

After you got over the shock, you genuinely felt happy for him. You would have killed the fucker yourself eventually, but Jason deserved to do it. He deserved to end the life of the person who made his a living hell.

“Bruce doesn’t have to know,” you said quietly.

“He will eventually,” Jason sighed. “It’s Bruce. I’d be surprised if he hasn’t figured it out already.”

“He wouldn’t blame you, Jason,” you told him, “Not- not if he knew. Not if he knew what Joker did to you.”

“He would throw me out,” Jason denied.

“He loves you,” you said, “He loves you, and he will forgive you. Maybe he’d get angry at first, and even then I think he’d be directing his anger towards himself rather than you. He’s changed, Jay. More than you know.”

Jason frowned, mulling over your words. “Fine. I’ll give it a try. But if he kicks me out, I get to say I told you so.”

“He won’t,” you smiled, “I won’t let him. If he does, I’ll go with you.”

Jason blinked at you, surprise etched on his face. “You would do that?”

“Of course. How could I not? I don’t know how obvious it is, but I kinda like you.”

He laughed out loud, “I like you, too.”

“So come back, okay?”

“Fine,” he rolled his eyes, “Besides, now that I’m functioning sexually, it’d be pretty hard to stay away from you.”

“I knew you were a perv,” you laughed, “You have to show me that video. Girl gets-”

“Don’t even. Ever.”

“Jason Kinky Todd has a nice ring to it.”

“Don’t fucking call me that.”

[fanficparker]

A GAME OF DIAMONDS AND HEARTS // H.O.

>> CHAPTER FOUR

“The life that you seek you shall never find. For when the Gods made man, They kept immortality to themselves.” - The Epic of Gilgamesh

(Frenemies to Lovers! Mob AU! ) Harrison Osterfield x Fem!OC

Word count: 2.47k words

Warning: Swearing, knives, anger issues, guns, handcuffs, kidnapping (kind of?), Harrison Osterfield (Yeah, that's a legit warning)

Synopsis: After the sudden death of his uncle and the eccentric multi-millionaire mafia king Lufian Clarke, Harrison Osterfield’s almost decent life is mostly devastated especially when half of what should be rightfully his fortune is transferred to their immediate rival for reasons he doesn’t know. What’s remaining is him trying to figure out how to deal with this collaboration of two rival corporations that don’t belong together and work on the side of the woman he never knew would ever be referred to as his partner in crime while they are dragged into a mess bigger than what they were trained to handle.

<< THREE [ MASTERLIST ] FIVE >>

Sandhya parked the car at the rear side of an autobody workshop next to a white pickup truck that resembled closer to junk than any actual mode of transportation. It was past ten when she pulled there, and the three people Harrison spotted in the shop were on their way to shut it down for the night's call. He had managed to keep a careful eye at what turns she took as the roads forked or what landmarks she crossed on her way, only to achieve practically nothing. He was a stranger to this place and she being the wicked witch she was, had driven in circles so many times that he was sure, she had managed to complicate the path for him in manners that his head failed to unravel.

"We are here, homies." She announced, yawning at the last part, tapping her palm over the dashboard, tugging the keys from the ignition and then pulling the hand brakes.

Kevin groaned, shuffling in his seat, eyes half-lidded, voice groggy with sleep. The women sitting beside him plucked off her earphones, shutting her laptop. Harrison, on the other hand, chose to inspect the unfamiliar surrounding in the comfort of the car, eyes sceptical and narrowing. He ignored the thud of car doors opening and closing only to be disturbed by a sharp noise of metal keys hitting the window on the other side.

He squirmed at the unpleasant sound and turned to look at the intruder as she leaned across from him, on the opposite side of the car, the neon signboard of the car workshop flashing red light over her face. She looked like an angel from hell.

"Are you moving out? Or should I rather lock you up here?"

Harrison tamped down the urge to roll his eyes and stepped precariously out of the car, rolling up his sleeves and buttoning them near his elbows. He followed the three people as they walk down a slope that connected to an underground parking lot. There were a few cars and motorbikes parked there, most seemed to be in a dire need of repair. It took him roughly two minutes to figure out that it was no underground parking. It was a whole ass hideout disguised on the front with unused motors. They walked into a narrow alleyway, passing through several closed doors of what he assumed were rooms to a living area attached to a kitchen. It wasn't well furnished but furnished enough for a stay. Gray unpainted walls, sofas, tables and chairs, fridge, microwave, a small but flattering shelf full of wine bottles and a CCTV monitor to the top corner that covered the outside of their hideout, all the necessities one needs to survive.

"Hey, we will need your phone and your watch." The other woman he didn't know the name of yet, matched his pace, her laptop tucked below her arm, her green hair shorter than his with a cool undercut to the sides. She looked equally chill and nerdy in her baggy checked shirt, a mixture foreign to him.

He paused on his way, casting her a scathing glare, a bored look wiping over his face the next instant, "And why would I give you that?"

"Because Holly needs to encrypt them," Sandhya replied for her, standing beside the taller girl.

"So that it isn't traceable." Holly reluctantly but quickly added. She was younger than them, probably around Harry's age. Harrison could feel an undercurrent of fear floating through her voice.

"Thank you very much, but..." Harrison replied, not missing a beat, shooting a bitter smile at Sandhya before facing Holly, uttering: "No," his lips forming a proper 'o' as he took a step away only to be stopped by Sandhya's hand grabbing his wrist.

"It's not a choice, Harrison." She asserted.

An order.

Something sour lathered at the back of his tongue. A vein in his forehead twisted. Anger? Resentment? Malice? You just name it. He felt all of them at once.

He jerked away from her grip, releasing his arm. When he turned to face Sandhya again, his entire aspect had changed. His shoulders were square and broad, posture imposing, features stone, eyes icicles. They exchanged a long, threatening glare, eyes never wavering. He took a step ahead, expecting her to step back but she didn't recoil, holding her ground. She had the sort of personality you associate stereotypes with: high cheekbones, tall stature, sharp features but she somehow managed to defy most of them. Without her heels and now wearing some flat running shoes, she barely reached his chin, there was something warm about the softness of her features hidden beneath her belligerent attitude. The little baby fat her genetics had blessed over her face, provided her preys with false hopes of mercy. Betrayal at its finest.

He looked down at her and she looked up at him, their shoes bumping, faces inches apart. Realisation ticks through her mind when she looked a second deeper into his eyes.

He was, perhaps, stalling.

Her neck snapped to the monitor embedded at the top corner of the living space.

Shit.

A car had stopped outside their hideout and two armed men emerged from the car, strolling towards the basement.

She identified one of the men. His men.

"Look ou--" She tried to yell but Harrison didn't allow even an ounce of air to escape from her lungs. He'd grabbed her shoulders swiftly, taking advantage of her diverted attention, squeezing her shoulder blades and twisting her body. Her back flushed against his chest.

Both Kevin and Holly grabbed their pistols, the clicking sound of safety pins dropping echoed in the enclosed space. They pointed the weapon at Harrison but he already had a pocket knife pointed at Sandhya's throat while his other arm was pressed beneath her neck, holding her still.

"Keep your guns down or this floor would bathe in her blood." He warned, poking the tip of the knife into her skin, eyes focused on the pistols.

Kevin and Holly hesitated, their eyes flickering at Sandhya's face. Something passed between their eyes, some sort of permission and they threw their guns down, sliding them away from their reach.

"Hands above your head, quick." Harrison added, "And place them on the wall, face the other side."

Holly and Kevin obeyed without questioning, pressing their palms to the walls, while Harrison bent to pick up their pistols, shoving them at the back of his pants, holding Sandhya on a chokehold.

"I'd warned about your men's involvement in Clarke's murder," she whimpered when he placed the blade near her skin again, getting to his feet, "Yet you let them trace our location," she somehow managed to finish the sentence.

"You speak a lot for someone millimetres apart from dying."

"You won't kill me." She said, gritting her teeth.

"Yeah, but I can hurt you," he whispered near her ear, "And we both know how much I'd like that." His warm breath fanned over her cheek as he dug the pointy edge of the blade to the pulsing side of her neck, pressing not enough to cut her but enough to terrify her.

"Arsehole." She muttered, sucking in a breath.

"Tell me something new." His lips twisted into a devilish grin as he dragged her outside, her loose hair tickling under his chin, his arms clenched so tightly around her that she was sure she would still feel them tomorrow.

"I am telling you..." She tried to breathe and speak.

"Sssh..." Harrison interrupted with a shush, the vibrations moving through her flesh, echoing through her bones.

She tried to ignore the effect of his voice on her spine, suppressing the chilling sensation. "We are on the same team," she whispered softly and carefully as if trying to lull a toddler into handling back their parents' important work files.

"Oh well, then I should be the one giving orders."

They walked to the front of the basement. She could spot the shadowy outline of the two men waiting.

She started trying to resist, wiggling her body in his grip.

"Hey, Hey! Behave. This blade won't spare. Don't blame me."

"Let go, Harrison. Your life is on the edge!" She wiggled harder.

Edge.

He couldn't stop but laugh at the irony in the metaphor she chose.

They reached his men and she stilled in his grip. A white man, she identified as Tom (as Harrison had previously pointed out) and the other man she didn't identify was black and taller than all of them, both standing like soldiers in front of her.

"This is Tom. And this is Tuwaine," he introduced his men.

"This could be dangerous for both of us." She was almost pleading now, eyes pooling with tears of irritation and of failure.

"We don't want to kill her," Tom said, passing Harrison a pair of handcuffs.

And here she thought she had the lead.

"Why do y'll keep telling me that?" Harrison groaned at Tom's advice. He had repeated it over, even Sandhya has said the same thing, twice.

"Do I look like a psychotic killer on a killing frenzy?" He grabbed her wrists, fastening the cuffs behind her back, gripping her upper arm. "I know well who and whom I am supposed to hurt, how and where." He clarified, gently pushing her to sit on the back seat of the car. She obeyed this time, having no choice.

"It's not easy to trust you," Tuwaine added.

Harrison nodded, trying to look offended, "Thanks Tuwaine, I needed that," getting into the car, along with her, keeping a good distance between them. He snorted when she swirled her neck to the other side, refusing to look at him.

Tom settled himself on the driver's seat and Tuwaine sat beside him as the car drove off.

***

The giant gates of the mansion she'd only seen from far away opened like butterfly's wings, welcoming the car where she sat as a hostage.

"Aren't you delighted seeing this place?" Harrison asked in a tone that was closer to mockery than curiosity.

She still refused to look at him yet could hear the smirk in his voice.

"The place you won in the lottery? Or shall I say, cheated--"

"Fuck off." She interrupted but he went on like a guide, ignoring the cuss—

"The second luxurious property in England, just next to the Buckingham Palace."

She chose to ignore too. The main doors to the estate were wide open. Two women came rushing out when the car came to a halt. One of them opened Sandhya's door, pulling her out, holding her forearm, the other pulled a pistol and a knife from her dress.

"Release her," Harrison said nonchalantly, tossing the keys of the cuffs to the first woman. She unlocked the metal and Sandhya pulled her hands from the woman's grip, rubbing her fingers around her wrists.

She walked in, eyes in the front as Harrison and the crew accompanied her.

"Take her to the guest suite." He said and the same woman nodded.

Before she could grip Sandhya's arm, she moved it away, rushing to Harrison, grabbing his shirt collars with both her hands.

"I'd planned everything so intricately and you... You just ruined it all." She spoke with clenched teeth, eyes glistening with emotionless tears. "Do you--Don't understand the gravity of the situation? We are literally playing with fire." She exhaled forcefully.

He chortled.

Playing with fire?

He had committed various mistakes today, more mistakes than he could recount, more mistakes than he could afford. He had let his emotions get the best of him. He had not inspected Clarke's body, then went to beat Dino's men without even being careful of the various other dangers he could cross paths with, then chose to accompany Sandhya alone, got into a life-threatening car chase, had a sniper pointed to his head.

On top of that, he had also failed to consider the disastrous change the mafia world would go through upon the King's death. Damn, he had already played with fire and it was enough for him.

With Clarke's death: The mafia world has never been so free and so trapped. So vulnerable yet so lethal.

Harrison had discovered that for himself. He fucking knew the gravity of the situation! And that's why he chose to take matters into his own hands. He could trust nobody. Especially her.

"You really need to stop with your habit of holding collars." He held her hand in his, thumbs tracing circles over the back.

She continued to search his face, dark eyes filled with disbelief.

"We will work my way. And..." his face hardened at the conjunction, his thumbs stopped their ministrations as he squeezed her hands tighter. "And when I find your involvement in Clarke's murder, I would not hesitate to put a bullet through your skull."

She snorted this time, pulling her hands back.

"This is what you concluded? This? After everything?" She burst out into a peal of bitter laughter, the one that twisted Harrison's gut.

Her eyes hardened again as she jabbed a finger into his chest.

The next words came out as an unchecked storm out of her mouth, "The life you want, you will never get." Her words were merely whispers but worked their way through his gut, burning his chest, crawling through every fibre of his body and she never seemed to stop.

"You'll never be the next Clarke, you'll never even be half of him. Maybe," she hiccupped, "Maybe, he knew that and that's why he chose me, he chose me over you because he knew how incongruous you were."

She took a step forward, her chest pressing against his, standing on her toes, directly meeting his eyes and raising her voice beyond the point of normalcy, "How you were an insult to his legacy!" Pausing to exhale, she continued, her voice back to low, "It was a pity that he gave you half of his kingdom. You didn't even deserve that. You'll never be him. You are nothing like him."

Harrison bit back his tongue, his icy eyes burning from the lack of blinking. The mansion was dead silent, no one had dared to speak or react. He clenched his fists tight, feeling his nails digging into his palms.

"Take her to the room." He instructed, voice barely above a few decibels. He didn't wait for his words to turn to actions, rather he turned on his feet, striding towards his room, jaws tensed, nerves popping through his burning flesh.

His footsteps echoed behind him.

____________________

_____________

…TO BE CONTINUED…

>> Send me an ask or just reblog/comment this post with ‘Tag me’ or fill this NEW TAGLIST to get added to the taglist of AGODAH.

_____________

____________________

[geraltofriviasleftbuttcheek]

For all he's been trained against it, has trained himself to avoid plunging off that ledge, Geralt still finds himself falling into zones more often than he'd like. 

It's—well. It's not something that can be helped, exactly, not with the way his senses are heightened even beyond a normal sentinel's. The mutations had taken what was already tempered and honed it until it became brittle, almost; he's past heightened and well into so fine an edge it'll break under the slightest bit of force. 

It means he can see miles over the horizon and hear twice as far into the woods and he can smell even the most subtle of shifts in the pheromones of the humans around him who have a whole host of emotions within them, and it's always just too much. 

It means when his body is exhausted from the fight, muscles aching and bones vibrating from that ache and blood is dripping down his face and arm and chest from the gashes of the now-dead beast's claws, making his clothing stick to him too tight like tar, and his mind is weakened with that exhaustion, his usual mental walls crumbled to dust at his feet as they trudge him back to a town with humans who sneer and glare and pay him too little, all it takes is a stray glint of sunlight on the curved edge of a trinket in a stall, and the ringing sound of yelling and shouting, and the smells of piss and shit and rotting things, and the yawning, black void creeps up, drawing him in; the world goes fuzzy, fades out, and he's gone. 

Zoning. When the input of external stimuli becomes so overwhelming a sentinel can't process it all and just—shuts down. Dangerous even under the best circumstances, because there's no telling when—or if—they'll ever come back from it. 

Having a guide helps; a focal point, someone who can block out everything else and bring the sentinel back from a zone. Taxing work that doesn't always pay off if the sentinel and guide aren't compatible. 

Not many people are compatible with witchers. 

Distantly, he feels his body stop the slow trudge he'd been moving at, right in the middle of the street; feels the way his stare goes long and his expression takes on an absent quality. People run into him and grumble and shout before they realize what's happened, and then they skirt around him like skittering mice fleeing a predator. 

Don't touch a zoning sentinel, especially not a witcher.

It's all so much—the sounds, the smells, all of it presses at him until he feels like he might disappear beneath it all. His skin is pulled taut over his bones, constricting beneath his armor; the blood dripping into his eye is hot, sticky; his swords are heavy on his back, heavier than they ever are, and the medallion around his neck is too tight, choking, suffocating— 

He breathes in, and rising above the cloying smells of hatred and fear—getting closer—is the scent of cinnamon and citrus, warm and spicy and comforting. Familiar. He takes another breath, pulling the scent into his lungs, and finally, the thing inside his chest that had been constricting him begins to ease.

With the scent come soft hands, cupping his face with such aching tenderness he wants to collapse into them. Thumbs caress over his cheeks, a soothing, repetitive motion, right beneath his eyes. A forehead presses to his own, a nose brushes against his, warm breath against his lips. He begins to register words being spoken and can once again parse out their meaning. 

"Come back to me," a gentle voice murmurs, smooth and low. It doesn't grate against his ears like most sounds; he could listen to it forever. "Come back to me, dear heart. Don't go off without me." 

He doesn't want to. Nothing in him wants to leave this calm voice, this tender touch, this comforting scent behind. He chases after it, pulling himself back from the yawning, empty void, rushing headlong into the safety of the presence before him. 

"I'm here," the gentle voice says, and he knows this voice. Knows the musical lilt, the way it commands lyrics for an adoring public and presses praise into his skin when they're alone. "I'm here, darling. Come back to me." 

His guide.

Jaskier. 

With a deep, shuddering breath that wracks his entire body, Geralt finally blinks, and he no longer feels like he's floating outside himself, looking in. The world around him sharpens into crystal clear relief again, sounds and smells and tastes pouring back in, almost too much, but Jaskier's scent overpowers it all, surrounding him like a warm embrace, and he leans into the hands on his cheeks. 

He meets the tender blue-eyed gaze of his guide, his bard, and Jaskier's mouth curls up in a relieved smile. 

"There you are," he says, voice just as warm as his touch. He continues caressing Geralt's cheek with one thumb, the other hand moving to tangle in his hair, grounding him. Geralt lets his head drop to his shoulder and buries his nose in his neck where his scent is strongest. "I missed you terribly for a moment there, dear heart." 

It's on the tip of his tongue to say Sorry but he knows he'll only be hushed gently and told it's not his fault, so he only hums and brings his arms to wrap around Jaskier's waist. It's a testament to how worrying a zone can be that Jaskier doesn't even complain about the fact Geralt is smearing blood over his new doublet. 

Well. Not for a few heartbeats, at least. 

When they pull apart, Jaskier frowns down at his clothes and makes a sound in his throat that proclaims his displeasure, and then he's leading Geralt back to the inn and calling for a bath to be brought to their room. He sits Geralt on the bed with a stern look and a comment about going to find their supplies and that he better not move before going over to their bags. 

Exhausted as he is—from the fight earlier and the lingering sensation of the zone—Geralt doesn't protest. He simply strips as quickly and efficiently as his wounds allow, and then he waits for his bard to come back to him and tend to him. 

It's still loud, and he can still smell the fetid aromas that cling to towns like this, but Jaskier just steps in close to let his cinnamon and citrus scent wrap him up again and begins humming a soft lullaby, gentle and soothing, and Geralt just closes his eyes and focuses his senses on his guide.