#... been waiting for this appointment for nearly a month and a half because the doctor only shows up on Mondays at ass o'clock in the ...

[bakugoushotwife]

kinktober day ten: breeding kink

>>> so i actually think he would be able to get his partner preggers but that's because i say so xoxo but also bc maybe ce doesn't affect the reproductive system?? idc if it does he deserves a family!

>>> starring: choso kamo x curvy!fem!reader >>> cw: breeding kink thank you, pregnancy kink, choso is obsessed w his wife hours, oral (fem), creampie, >>> wc: 2.2k >>> event masterlist:

he’ll never forget the day you told him you were pregnant. it was something he had considered impossible, to the point he never bothered wearing a condom or cumming anywhere but inside you. seeing you pregnant only made sure those things wouldn’t change. you were already so perfect to him that it was almost unnerving, even all these years of marriage in. he fell in love with you the moment he met you back in shibuya, but somehow you had become even more beautiful to him. 

he was obsessed, almost to the point of embarrassment, if choso understood the concept in regards to his love for his wife. but he wasn’t shy about being yours. it was all so new to him, the idea of fatherhood, viewing you as a mother, watching you change before his very eyes and all the long doctors appointments. he loves it though, oddly enough. especially the notion of being a dad and watching your body and mindset shift and grow. 

choso can tend to be clueless due to his rather unconventional navigation of life, but ever since he learned how to work a cell phone, the internet has been his very best friend. unfortunately, yuji can give some very…troublesome advice. choso thinks it’s a miracle he’s still alive at times. so google can help in ways his earnest younger brother cannot, giving him multiple opinions and sources on what to do and how to do it. he spends hours of his time researching how to care for you; wanting to know if it was normal to be this attracted to you while you were all moody and pouty with just the start of roundness at the bottom of your belly—the jury was still out on that one, by the way. 

one thing that was normal was your increased need for him, not like he was complaining. he loved this side effect the most, able to satiate his perverse desire to keep stuffing his already pregnant wife full, relishing in how eager and frankly nasty you had gotten. you were damn near insatiable, and choso thought he was in heaven for it. all through your first and second trimesters, you couldn’t get enough of him—and the feeling was mutual. as you grew larger and the house became cluttered with baby shower gifts and preparations for baby kamo, he continued to clock hours towards his family. he read article after article on parenting, actively assembling the nursery and searching up names with you. he was beyond joyful, still unable to believe that you were growing his son or daughter within that gorgeous body of yours, your breasts had started to swell and your hips had begun to spread. he loved every second of this: your neediness, everything about how you look while making him a father, and the way his friends circled around him and became such a supportive family. 

his thoughts bordered on crazy, a haunting desire to keep you like this all the time, lounging around the house in your pretty maternity dresses doing nothing but being waited on hand and foot; relaxing while stroking your swelling stomach. it’s what suited you best, he thinks—stretched out along the couch basking in the rays of the sun beating in through the living room window, snacking on a fruit board he made you and baby. he’s nearly foaming at the mouth, your long robe-style dress clinging to all the delicious curves of your body; the light cotton seemed to outline your heavy boobs, tight around your semi-hardened nipples. it hugged your six-and-a-half-month sized bump, your other hand resting there protectively. choso was stuck in the moment, trying to commit every detail of you to memory. he almost didn’t hear your chortle of disbelief. 

“you said what, now, babe?” you whip your head towards him, heart fluttering violently at what he uttered— you needed him to say it again. it was easy to grow addicted to your husband, building his spawn had you needier than ever. even the smell of him had you going absolutely feral level insane even though this pregnancy had been the highlight of your life so far. you thought your clinginess and desire was driving him to his own insanity, figuring he must hate tending to you and your attitude as of late. you must have just heard him incorrectly. 

“huh?” he blinked, violet eyes refocusing on your plush lips speaking to him. “what did i say?” he asks, just as confused as you are. his cheeks darken anyways, as if you caught him doing something naughty, which only makes you believe your ears were in fact not deceiving you. 

“you said you should keep me like this all time.” you chuckle, full on tilting your head towards him from your spot on the sofa. he averts his gaze as soon as you meet him, and you let out a teasing fake gasp. “my husband wants to keep me barefoot and pregnant, huh? you know that’s pretty outdated…” 

he shakes his head, embarrassed immediately. great, now you thought he was some sick perv, which isn’t completely off base, he guessed, but still! it wasn’t like that, he didn’t view you like some machine built only to churn out his kids and cook him dinner! 

“n-no! i mean—you look great like this, b—” 

“i’m just fucking around, love. i thought it was sexy.” you grin, throwing a wink his way. he clicks his tongue at you and huffs at the teasing, even though he’s definitely intrigued by the latter half of your sentence. you arch your brow, waiting for him to ask for clarification. you could see him fighting it in his head before your very eyes. the scrunch of his nose tells you that you’ve won. 

“yeah? what’s that supposed to mean?” he says from his spot in the recliner nearby, always opting to be close to you. you smile knowingly at him, humming in thought mostly for the dramatics. 

“mayhaps i enjoy the idea of you keeping me pregnant…especially if i get spoiled like this every time.” you giggle, shrugging a little bit. “maybe i’ll feel differently after i actually have this one.” you pat your tummy affectionately, and he thinks he may be drooling. you always play so coy, but he can see the way you rub your thighs together and the clouds that darken in your sunshiney eyes. he may be regularly clueless, but the one thing he knows all too well is your body. 

“hm, i think it’s because you’re a sex-crazed maniac now and know pregnancy gets you off the hook.” he deadpans, though his heart is beating rapidly in his chest and in his cock. you call his bluff, rolling your eyes viciously. 

“isn’t that the pot calling the kettle black.” you huff, spreading your legs out on the couch in a silent command. he smirks, not at all caring that you caught him. he nods a bit, holding his hands up. 

“got me. i just didn’t know how much i would love this.” he says, the husk in his voice sends a shiver down your spine. your thighs press together when he obeys your body language, rising from his seat and making his way to the couch. he sits at your feet of course, smiling so sweetly. his warm hands gently pry your knees apart, and you wonder if he knows just how seductive the look he gives you is. his chin is angled down, hooded purple eyes singing a siren song that makes your legs fall apart again and your fingers pull at the tie keeping your dress together. he growls at the sight of your exposed body, his hands rubbing trails from your knees to your hips and down your thighs again. “you’re so perfect…can you blame me?” 

you roll your eyes but wear a stupid grin at his praise, shaking your head to his question. you knew better than to be insecure over your changing body, especially with all the extra attention it’s garnered you. truth be told, you had never felt more beautiful, the life growing inside you breathing new life into your own appearance, and your husband never missed an opportunity to make you feel like a goddess amongst mortals. he would never dream of making you uncomfortable or asking you to accommodate him, so he folds himself into the space he has so that his face hovers above your shiny middle. his breath alone makes you moan, a hand flying up to cover your embarrassment. you always react like you’ve never been touched before and choso loves it almost as much as the sight of your round stomach and even rounder mounds above. he brings his thumb over you, wanting to watch you as he draws slow circles over your hardened clit. he hums, a little smile on his face as you jerk and squirm. your hips buck into his mouth instantly with cute whines slipping past your lips as your hands struggle to reach for his collarbone length black hair. he leans up a bit to help you, just the feeling of his rough thumb pad against your need turned you into a mess within seconds. 

“nngh–oh choso, feels so–mmph good already.” you gasp, hands dropping to fondle your aching breasts. he nods and sits up to spit a warm and fat glob on your cunt, his thick thumb dragging it all over your spasming need. the lewdness of his action coupled with the nonchalant way he watches, tongue poking around your hole like nothing ever happened, has your brain spinning without much effort. your hips drive into the relief he offers, chasing your orgasm like you’d never before experienced one—despite the clear proof otherwise. he allows it, never in his life would he keep you from feeling good. he’s honored to be the one who causes those pretty sounds to fill the room, to be the father of the child making your beauty so ethereal, to be the man tongue deep in your perfect pussy. “gonna–ohhhh–” 

your sweet release coats his tongue, his thumb still working you down slowly so he could relish in the face you make from sheer pleasure. he sits back up, a little more comfortable on his knees as he leans over you to give you a sloppy kiss filled with your own essence. he’s had to be much more careful since you’re getting bigger, but he doesn’t mind making sweet love to his beautiful baby mama. you wrap your arms around his neck, keeping his mouth against you while his hands are busy freeing himself from his sweatpants. you gasp into his mouth when you feel his length parting your folds and prodding at your hole. he only nibbles at your lip to tell you that he’ll be gentle, sheathing himself within your wet warmth slowly. you tense around him and relax, sighing happily at the feeling of him rocking into you at a tender pace. he moves his kisses to the sides of your cheeks, your jaw, picking up his speed until he has to sit back up properly to angle himself right. 

“more, you’re not gonna break me daddy.” you pant, hand braced on the ridges of his defined abs. he sighs begrudgingly, only because he’d been repressing the same urge ever since you welcomed him inside. he relents, lifting one of your legs to rest against his hip before driving into you a bit harder. you moan wildly and nod, nearly screaming. “god—just like that.” 

“anything for you mama, s’cute you need it hard, such a good girl letting me get a little rough.” he grunts, squeezing the hold he has on your thigh. you feel so different, still so tight and warm but with a different kind of wetness. he’s a mess too, championing himself with that nickname you bestowed upon him. his strokes are so well-timed, letting you feel every drag of his cock against you, the tip of him nailing the spot you need him most. “so perfect. you gonna let me keep this pretty hole bred?” 

you nod, the words sending you close to your tipping point. you shake your head, too gone to speak to let him know that you were going to cum. you don’t have to tell him though, he can tell from the intense fluttering of your sloppy cunt, and he’s happy to have lasted this long trapped in your clutches. you’re slapping at his stomach, legs shaking around him as you scream again, the sound so primal it sends goosebumps prickling along his skin right before he’s stuffing you full as if you weren’t already carrying his seed. you squeeze down on him, making sure he empties his balls in you. he stays there until he goes soft, and then he slumps against the side of the couch. your giggles make him perk up, his violet eyes cutting over to see you crawling towards him with a mischievous glint to your eyes. he knows he’s right when you swing your leg over his lap, angling him back inside you. 

“don’t worry—just wanna sit on it.” you titter, wrapping your arms around his neck again, pressing your body as close as you could for a hug. he twitches from sensitivity as you lower yourself back over him, but a smile spreads across his face all the same. 

“how many kids can i give you, mama?” he groans in your ear as his arms tighten around your waist securely.

[yongbokology]

baby daddy! satoru x baby mama! reader

black coded reader <3

warnings; none really, just fluff tbh

wc; 1.1k

an: maybe i’ll write a part where the actual baby making takes place if this doesn’t flop 🤷🏾‍♀️

* baby daddy! satoru who looks at you with wide eyes as you show up to his apartment with a positive pregnancy test. before this situation you both were friends with benefits for a year and some change; having met him during your shift at the bar you currently work at.

* baby daddy! satoru who nearly falls over once you decide that you want to keep it (after all, it’s him we’re talking about)

* baby daddy! satoru who respects your decision after the initial shock and let’s it be known that’s he not going to be a deadbeat… (unlike someone)

“please don’t tell me we have to get married.”

you roll your eyes as you continue to clean the used shot glasses left behind by patrons.

“i’d rather self amputate my arms and legs, satoru.”

* baby daddy! satoru who tries to make it to as much doctors appointments as he can— sometimes even taking off of work for them.

“so, you’re currently at the end of your first trimester. everything is looking good, baby is looking healthy. any questions?” the doctor smiles sweetly at the both of you as she looks through yours and the baby’s charts.

satoru sits up from his chair, eyes perking up in the process “how long until you can tell if it’s going to be the most powerful being in the world?”

“satoru!”

“what… just curious..”

* baby daddy! satoru who secretly buys everything on your registry.

* baby daddy! satoru who watches you marvel at everything he bought, acting surprised with you.

* baby daddy! satoru who poses the idea of the both of you having a place together after a serious talk with shoko.

“don’t you think it would be safer for both her and the baby? y’know cuz you’re practically cursed.” a freshly lit newport hangs off her lips as she eyes her old friend.

“what?! i’m not cursed..”

“think about it— the world shifted off kilter when you were born. people were quite literally planning your murder before you could walk. you don’t think they’ll be rubbing their hands at the chance to get at your offspring?”

satoru breaks his friend’s stare and chooses silence, opting to take another bite out of his onigiri.

* baby mama! reader who accepts the offer because you’re literally just a twenty-something girl trying to navigate this unfair world, living paycheck to paycheck (😪)

— fear not tho because baby daddy! satoru got his baby mama covered!

* baby mama! reader who gets to know satoru more since moving in and he’s honestly such an interesting character.

* baby mama! reader who thinks it’s truly nice seeing him for who he was rather than him being a complete whiny mess after an orgasm for a change.

“do you just starve yourself all day? there’s literally nothing here to eat, toru!” you have your hand placed on six month old pregnant stomach and the other is holding open his stupidly expensive smart fridge that currently has one singular bento box that is half eaten.

“i don’t know how to cook!”

“good lord, what am i going to do with you?”

* baby mama! reader who takes off from the bar after satoru essentially pleads on his knees for you to stay home.

- he eventually convinces you to quit altogether.

* baby mama! reader who learns the truth about satoru’s job after waiting for him at the and seeing a fucking panda just holding a conversation with some weird kid with markings around his mouth, simply replying with “salmon.”

* baby daddy! satoru who thought it would be fine to just have you sit tight for a couple of minutes while he checks up on his students since he’s been off from work but clearly he was wrong when he comes back to see you bug-eyed and pacing back and forth.

you’re already trampling over your own words when satoru walks over to you with a concerned look on his face. “w-why did i just see a fucking talking panda satoru!”

he’s sliding a hand over his face and is pulling you into the nearest room and sliding the door shut behind him. it’s there that he explains the world of jujutsu sorcery and what he does and why you saw a talking panda roaming about.

he decides to kill two birds with one stone that day and introduces you to his students and the both of you are bombarded with a magnitude of questions.

there’s a brunette who hasn’t taken her hands off your stomach since introduction and there’s a pink haired young man who’s enamored with you overall.

“kinda surprising someone would willingly have a child with you.”

the brunette takes her hands off your stomach to pound her fist into the dark-haired kid whose names you learned was megumi.

(you caught a glimpse of a younger version of him tucked into satoru’s wallet after spending the whole day in the grocery store)

“just because we’re all thinking it doesn’t mean you have to say it out loud, fushiguro.”

* baby mama! reader who grows fond of the trio after initial introduction and ends up seeing them more often after that.

* baby daddy! satoru who doesn’t mind one bit and opens up his house so you could spend more time with them.

* baby daddy! satoru who’s in the middle of an intense fight but stops once he hears the specific ringtone he picked out for you.

“give me a minute would you? someone rather important is calling.”

his opponent is stunned and confused at the sheer audacity yet they don’t dare move an inch.

satoru presses his phone to his ear, a soft smile appearing on his lips as he answers you. “what’s going on, pretty girl?”

“baby. coming. now.”

“be right there.”

satoru’s smile drops as he reverts his attention back to his opponent, his arms preparing to conjure a finishing blow.

“sorry to cut our playtime short but someone truly worthy of my time just called.”

* baby daddy! satoru who makes it just in time to see his beautiful son being born.

* baby mama! reader who’s exhausted from giving life to a literal being. you’ve got your arms wrapped around the newborn that finally stopped crying all while sharing glances between you and satoru.

* baby daddy! satoru who has this weird feeling in his stomach after receiving his son in his arms. the expression on his face resembles one of pure bliss as he takes a seat in the chair not too far from your hospital bed.

after much-needed reassurance and satoru helping you to sleep, he’s slowly pacing around the room with your son, whispering sweet nothings and quiet promises.

“not that i doubted it for a second but you’re certainly mine alright.”

he smiles at the piercing blue eyes staring right back at his own.

* baby mama! reader who isn’t actually sleeping and watches the both of them with tired eyes and in that moment knows she made the right decision and is content with the possibility of a domestic life with the strongest sorcerer of the modern age.

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© yongbokology y2k23

feedback is encouraged.

boarder credz @leopardprnt

[tatsumessy]

Their reaction to you getting in a car accident -{Rin, Sae, Isagi, Nagi, Reo}

Blue lock edition

Rin Itoshi

It happened when he was at practice.

You had gotten home early and wanted to surprise Rin with dinner but you realized that there were no groceries.

You were on your way back when someone hit the back of your car at a stop light then drove off.

No one seemed to notice so you went home to start cooking dinner but you soon realized that the accident was worse than you expected.

Rin got home an hour later to find you half asleep on the couch and with a melted ice pack on your neck.

He noticed the back of your car damaged and hurried inside to see what happened, when you woke up and told him he forced you to go to the hospital.

Turns out you had a concussion and a cracked rib.

He was very pissed at whoever hit you but he was also pissed at you for now going to the hospital or calling the cops.

At the end of the day he just wanted to make sure you were okay.

Sae Itoshi

He was literally in Spain while the love of his life had a broken leg from the accident.

He knew something was up when you wouldn’t FaceTime him for three days. (Cause you were in the hospital)

Poor baby came home a week later early in the morning to find you knocked out on under the bed sheets.

When he got in to cuddle you he felt the cast on your leg and nearly fell out the bed.

He quickly woke you up forcing you to explain what happened.

To say this man was upset was an understatement, he literally looked like he had smoke coming out his ears.

Thankfully you calmed him down and reassured him that you’d be fine and the cast would come of in a week and switched to a boot.

Isagi Yoichi

You were on you way to go and pick him up and like the clichés in the movie he was standing across the street waiting for you to cross.

You started walking when the walk signal turned and you didn’t even see the car till the last second, it hit you causing your body to tumble over it and land on the ground.

Thankfully you braced yourself for impact so you had minor damage. Broken ribs and leg but it could’ve been worse.

Isagi the whole time was freaking out more than you were and you were the one who got in the accident.

He stayed by your side any free time that he had unless he had to go to practice, even when practicing was over he’d leave immediately to come over and take care of you.

This poor baby is blaming it on himself, he could’ve walked over to you but you being you did not let him take anything that happened to heart.

At the end of the day he’s just happy you’re okay.

Nagi Seishiro

It happened months ago even after healing you needed to go to rehab for your back.

He didn’t start to notice until you were complaining about constant pain during sex, even then he still didn’t get it.

When he finally noticed a scar on your hairline he asked and when you told him he dropped his gameboy on the ground and stared at you in confusion, anger, fear whatever.

“Why the hell didn’t you tell me??” He was so pissed, when you told him it was during his game when you were running late he got even more upset with you.

He didn’t calm down until your doctors appointment, only a check up but just like Isagi he was blaming himself that’s the only reason he was so mad.

The two of you didn’t talk for a while but once you reassured him that you were okay he calmed down and promised to be more observant.

Reo Mikage

It happened right infront of him. He was taking to you and event and right when he stepped out he turned around to grab your hand but the car jerked forward due to the car behind you rear ending it.

It was minor but Reo treated it like it was a major accident, due to the jerk to accidentally bit your lip causing it to bleed.

THIS MAN CRIED. He admittedly cried when you two were alone because he blamed himself for not letting you get out first before him.

But he’s also easy to soothe so he was fine after a few minutes and it’s safe to say that for a few months unless he was at practice you were stuck on his hip.

[whereianonymouslypostfics]

Dreams 

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x reader

Word count: ~2.4k

Summary: You can’t sleep

A/N: More baby stuff to come, but first I need to post a couple of drabbles for the sake of not making a confusing af timeline. 

Warnings: Angst mentions of death, dealing with trauma

As soon as you first stepped into your house you knew that your favorite part would be the view. You had stepped onto one of the decks outside and immediately fallen in love with the house. You spent hours outside, or even just on the third floor looking out to the dense trees of the mountains beyond your yard.

You found nature calming and if you had the time and the ability to just wander out into the woods and spend a day relaxing you would. You’d even go at night despite knowing how much your wife would disapprove of this plan.

Despite this somewhat repressed desire, tonight is not one of those night. You’d certainly come back with a cold given how hard it’s raining outside. It was storming when you went to bed, and despite being exhausted, you couldn’t stay asleep. You’d been woken up only a few hours later and you ended up lying in bed listening to the rain for nearly half an hour before you decided to get up.

You’d crept out of bed, not that you thought Wanda would hear you, and you looked downstairs to make sure your dogs were there. They were lying down in the living room sleeping, so you let them be as you wandered upstairs to the third floor. From up here you could look out the floor-to-ceiling windows that showed you an unobscured view of the dark sky that was only occasionally illuminated by lightning that seemed to be right on top of you. The loud thunder and the rain beating against the roof was enough to distract you temporarily from the dream you’d had.

You’d struggled a little this week, and you know you hadn’t hidden it well from anyone. You’d been at work busy as always, and a new client had come in for an appointment for his dog. The dog was adorable but you honestly didn’t remember anything about him because you’d been so distracted by his owner.

He’d looked remarkably similar to a younger version of Rumlow and you’d nearly had a panic attack at the possibility that he wasn’t really dead. That he’d come back for you.

You’d had to excuse yourself and you asked another doctor to fill in for you under the guise of feeling sick before fleeing for your car. You’d sat in it for nearly ten minutes before you’d managed to drive away and head home.

You hadn’t told Wanda about it immediately. Despite coming home to find her downstairs, you’d immediately gone to shower and then crawled into bed. She’d been concerned and confused about why you were home so early, but you hadn’t managed to tell her any more than what you’d told your coworker.

You sigh as you remember the nightmare you had and how Rumlow and Vision still plagued your dreams months after their deaths. You wondered how long they would torment you for as you lay your head back and try to focus on the torrential downpour that you were considering stepping out into.

“Y/n?”

You don’t hear Wanda immediately because you’re so distracted, but you do hear Boone shake himself out from where he’s standing beside your wife. The sound of his collar catches your attention and you open your eyes expecting to see just him. When you see Wanda standing beside him, you can’t help but smile apologetically.

“Hey. Can’t sleep either?”

Wanda had actually been sleeping really well despite the storm. She loved it when it was raining and she could honestly stay in bed all day if it was like this outside. What woke her up was your absence that she’d noticed almost immediately after you’d left. She’s never been great at sleeping alone since you two got together, and not even a perfect thunderstorm could keep her in bed once she realized you were no longer with her.

She moves to sit down next to you, waiting as you greet Boone with a quick scratch before lying back against the cushions with a sigh. She frowns slightly as she looks you over, and she realizes fairly quickly that you’re tense. You’d been a bit off recently and you hadn’t really told her what was bothering you. After coming home early from work this week and claiming to feel sick, she’d watched you carefully during the following days to try and figure out what was wrong. It hadn’t taken her long because despite how well you hid your stress during the day, once you were asleep, you subconscious seemed to run wild and reveal every worry that you’d had that day.

She just had to watch you sleep to understand that something was stressing you out. Most of the time it was work, but you would tell her about that easily enough. Given that you’d been so tight-lipped about this she feared it was something worse.

By the second night you’d given her confirmation when she’d woken up in the middle of the night to you talking in your sleep. She’d been a little confused and still sleepy so she hadn’t really heard most of what you said. It wasn’t until you said a very familiar name that she’d jolted awake.

Vision.

She hated to think that Vision was still causing you stress and literally making you lose sleep despite being dead. He was long gone and she had wanted to promise you that he would never hurt you again. Unfortunately, Wanda was well aware that he’d caused too much lasting damage for all of his influence to die with him. She’s reminded of this yet again as she watches you curl up and pat the blanket that you have on your lap and spread out on the couch.

“Come here.”

You don’t really have to say it because Boone is all-too-willing to jump up and sit beside you on the couch. He stays on the blanket but is quickly plopping down next to you, and you smile at him before turning back to your wife who still hasn’t answered you. You knew Wanda was too smart to believe that you were just restless, and you needed to tell her what’s been on your mind.

Wanda eventually shrugs before she claims that she could sleep fine, but she’d been worried about you.

“Why couldn’t you sleep?“

You wait until lightning flashes in the sky again before reaching out for Wanda with a sigh. She moves closer to you without you having to do much, and you smile before leaning in to kiss her cheek.

“Old demons.“

You’re still not exactly excited about discussing this, so you’re vague in hopes that your smart wife will understand your meaning. You realize this isn’t entirely fair, and even after Wanda hits the nail on the head you decide to be more upfront. Wanda shifts slightly so she’s leaning into you and can rest her head on your shoulder. She watches Boone yawn cavernously before daring to confirm her fears, and yours.

“You mean my two least favorite dead men?”

You can’t help but crack a smile as you nod and think about how accurate Wanda’s description is. Despite having met a lot of insufferable people over the years, these two certainly took the cake.

You take a deep breath before you turn away from your dog so you can look at your wife as you talk to her. It’s still dark since she hadn’t bothered to turn on the light and you can only see her outline, and her bright eyes watching you worriedly.

“Yeah. I’m having dreams about them again.”

Wanda was well aware of how during your recovery, and periodically since then you’d be reminded of the fear you’d felt when you’d almost died. You’d think about how just one minute’s difference or one interaction with Vision could have meant the end for you by one of their hands. You’d mostly had the same dream each time. You’d be sitting in that room again, tied to a chair, but neither of them would be present. You’d just be waiting for them to show up, knowing they would show up to hurt you.

You always woke up sweating and panicked for a few minutes before you could shake it. Sometimes Wanda woke up and tried to distract you and pull you out of it, but there was only so much she could do. She’d tell you that they were gone, and that no one would hurt you like that again. Wanda had made you promise to wake her up whenever you had this dream, but you honestly only ended up doing it about 50% of the time. Tonight being one of the times that you chose not to.

“This one was a little different though.”

Wanda had been wondering if something had triggered you this time when you say this. She eyes you curiously as she considers all of the possibilities, but you speak up before she gets anywhere close.

“We switched places and for some reason they were hurting you instead.”

You don’t have to say how much this shook you. You’d only worried about Wanda being hurt because of her job since you found out what it was. Once you’d learned that Vision was interested in her, and that he really wanted her for himself, you’d been wary and distrustful of him. He’d been too smart to try anything outright, at least until the end, but the fact that he’d tried to kill you so he could have Wanda all to himself made this particular dream seem unrealistic.

“I thought this was weird because I’m sure Vision would rather kill me three times over before hurting you. Rumlow though…”

Wanda scowls at the name, and she thinks about the brunette who’d hated her practically for his whole life. The first meeting between the two of them had honestly set the stage pretty well for every future interaction. He’d been brash and distrusting towards her and Pietro, and this rudeness became hostility before pretty soon after. Wanda still berated herself for not seeing something like this coming. She’d been prepared for whatever type of work-related sabotage he tried to throw her way. And there had been plenty over the years.

She just hadn’t been quite ready for something like this, and she fears every day that someone else will try it now that they were aware of what happened. As much as she tried to shield you from her work and keep people from knowing too much about you, it was impossible to keep them completely in the dark. It wasn’t ideal at all, but now that you were home and she wasn’t working, she was hoping you’d be safer. It had been months and she’d only heard murmurs of threats, nothing solid that would make her do much more than curse the stupidity of these nameless people.

“I know that I’ve said this before, detka, but now that I’m not working it will get better. That said, I can understand that your fears don’t exactly change because of this.”

Not like mine at least.

Wanda doesn’t say this because she doesn’t need to, and it makes her feel a little guilty. Sure, she will never not fear that you are in danger because of her, but the fact that she’s truly left it and has no responsibilities now, does make her feel better. However, she can’t assume that this is all you need to be reassured, and realizing that it isn’t makes her feel like she’s neglected you somehow.

You shake your head as you try to figure out how to tell Wanda what happened this week. It seems silly and you are embarrassed by your reaction to it, but you suppose you can’t help how you feel. You need to figure out how to convince yourself that your wife is right. You’re safer now, and you know that she will do everything she can to make sure this continues to be the case.

Wanda waits patiently as you find your words before looking back to your dog with a smile. His head is in your lap and he whines as he picks up on your anxiety. He nudges you with his nose a few times before you scratch his head and you can’t help but feel well taken care of in that moment.

“I know it will, Wands. I just---someone came into work and he looked so much like Rumlow I just freaked out. Of course I knew it wasn’t him, but it made all of the fears I thought I’d done a good job repressing rise up to the surface and smack me in the face.”

Wanda would usually smile at your sense of humor. However, given that you’re using it as a coping mechanism, to hide how true your words are, she can’t help but frown. She holds you hand tighter before offering you the only reassurance she can. She moves closer to you so she is almost on top of you like Boone is. She kisses your cheek and holds you close waiting until you sigh in exhaustion. You’d been extremely stressed for the past few days, and having this off your chest was just the beginning of feeling better. The rest would come with time and help from your wife who was all too willing to do whatever you needed.

“I’m sorry, Y/n. It’s going to take time.”

You nod in agreement because this is the worst part of it. Just separating yourself from the event by time was important, but also continuing to live your life was too. You wanted to move forward with your plans to have a family with Wanda. Now that she was truly retired and you were no longer hobbling around, you and Wanda would start to figure out the logistics of adding to your family.

You’re about to respond to your wife when she shifts slightly with a reassuring smile that you can’t see, but you practically know it by heart at this point.

“I promise I’ll be here for whatever you need.”

The two of you go back to listening to the calming storm outside before eventually returning to bed. You know that the chances of having another nightmare about your encounter with the doppelganger are high, but as long as you’ll wake up with Wanda by your side, you decide that you can face anything.

“Thank you, Wands.”

Masterlist

[abrahamshipwreck]

Whiny peebaby rant

I pay around 300$ for insurance, to see a doctor who is always overbooked and it is legit 4-6 months before I can get an appointment to see them (unless insurance switches my doctors again last minute and I have to repeat the process + New Patient documentation).

If I can get to the appointment without the doctor switching or cancelling the day before (add another few months) I go and I wait at least 45 minutes after my appointment time that I was told to show up half hour early to in the waiting room. I get taken back by a nurse and have vitals done (despite saying I dont want to know my weight they announce it anyway). Obligatory comments how my blood pressure 'seems kinda low' (babe thats the high end for me) I am put into a room to wait an additional 45minutes to an hour.

Doctor shows up, I have about 15 minutes or less to tell them whats been bothering me for the past who-knows-how-long (funny enough none of my symptoms are manifesting that day). Doctor makes comment how I need to 'eat better', 'get more sunlight', 'lose some weight' (despite my BMI being at 20-21 and telling them I have a history of a severe ED). They say its just anxiety. Drink more water. Your copay is 85$. I go home with no answers at all

Two weeks later I get a bill for 275$ for the visit. Its backdated day after my visit. I have about a week to pay it if Im lucky.

So, no, most Americans aren't 'spoiled' because they 'can just make an appointment to see a doctor so soon'. I wait nearly half a year for a wellness check, pay upwards of nearly 1800$ just to wait for the appointment not including the appointment and copay itself. Urgent care can be even more expensive to be seen sooner. That doesnt include if you get to see a specialist, or need a proceedure/labs/gyno work. And I have and pay for insurance. Its WAY WORSE if you dont.

NonUSAmericans really have no idea how bad it is here.

[peridyke]

Hihihiiii I know you're going on testosterone now, which is super cool and I'm so happy for you! What is the process for all this stuff like? Do you have to talk to someone about changing genders or can you just get testosterone without a script? I'm not trans myself, but I want to learn more about all this stuff!

Heya! so full disclosure i live in california in a relatively liberal area and I think that probably played a big hand in my ease of access for transition care but the process wasn't difficult for me and mostly just involved waiting.

the first clinic I contacted is closer to the college here with a lot more traffic from other young trans people so getting a call and appointment was kind of an ordeal because of how long the wait list for transition care was (i think there initial estimate for an appointment date was multiple months after I had called) BUT I was able to get a much closer appointment after I was recommended to switch to the clinic branch that was a town away. I basically just called and said I wanted to look into transition and later I got a call back with one of the nurses (I think?) interviewing me about how I identified and what I wanted/giving me general information about what hormones do and my options and what I could expect. the person I talked to was a very cool trans man and it was nice being able to talk to another trans person about hormones when getting into the specifics of my transition goals.

I think like a month later I had my actual appointment with my doctor who was a very nice young gay seeming cis lady and it wasn't hard for me to talk about what I wanted with her. the nurse I had talked to had mentioned testosterone compound cream as an option for me and I was interested in it but the doctor I talked to said it can be difficult to get it covered by insurance so I ended up being prescribed testosterone gel.

something that I was REALLY insecure about and what kept me from pursuing transition for years is that I want to transition specifically to treat bottom dysphoria and that felt like something that would be extremely awkward to explain to a doctor, but I found out that its actually a common reason for transition lol. I also worried that my identity as a lesbian and not a more "traditionally" transmasculine person would be a hurdle when it came to explaining myself but it wasn't a problem at all. the reason I wanted compound cream is that it can be used more directly for bottom growth but I've found that using a half dose of gel has worked fine for me and my dose has been low enough that I haven't been noticeably masculinized in ways that would feel more personally shocking (that being said I've also only been on for about two months so we will see what happens!)

the BIGGEST pain was actually getting my prescription and it's because my doctor didn't tell me that I needed a blood test first so I was waiting ages for CVS to fill it until I finally called my clinic and figured out I needed to get my blood drawn ghdjfjf and about a week later I was finally able to get it filled and pick it up. I have yet to get a refill so I guess I'll find out if thats gonna be a pain but yeah LOL it was not nearly as painful as I had envisioned it being. I used to feel resigned to never having the body I wanted and I tried all kinds of reverse psychology to make myself happier but now that I'm on track for getting where I wanna be I'm already feeling so much better ^_^

[notalwaysright]

https://notalwaysright.com/?p=258880 I have both generalized anxiety and depression and take two separate antidepressants for them: one for anxiety, one for depression. It can be a little rough, having to take multiple pills in one day, but it’s a small price to pay for being mentally healthy. However, due to circumstances involving my healthcare and my primary hospital, I have to go see my regular doctor to get my refills instead of a psychiatrist–and that means that every once in a while, in order to get those refills, I need to schedule an appointment with my doctor instead of just calling the office and having a nurse do it. The reason this is important is because one day, when I ran out of refills and tried to schedule an appointment with my doctor, I found out that she was on vacation and wouldn’t be back for… about a month. Which meant that for around 3-4 weeks, I was off my antidepressants. To say it was Hell for me would be an understatement. While this was happening, I was also planning to go to a convention a few hours away from my home. Since I had already paid for the hotel room and badge, I decided that if I didn’t have my meds, I’d just have to suck it up. Fortunately, I managed to squeeze in an appointment with my doctor right before I leave. Unfortunately, the appointment is literally the day BEFORE I leave. So, I essentially have to see my doctor and then get all my medications the next day before leaving. When I do see my doctor, she reassures me that she will have my usual pharmacy call me the next day to pick up my meds. The day of the trip, my mom gets a text AND email notification from the pharmacy that my meds are ready, so she leaves to get them. When she gets back home, I find my usual sets of meds (inhaler, Epi-Pen, allergy stuff) and… one of my antidepressants, specifically the one for my anxiety. I search the bag extensively, but I quickly realize that the pharmacy never gave my mom the medication for my depression. Since I’ve been off my meds for roughly a month by then, and was going to be at a convention for almost half a week, I couldn’t exactly afford to go without one of my antidepressants for even longer. So, while I finish off the rest of my packing, my mom calls the pharmacy to explain the issue (although I have to take the phone soon enough because my mom doesn’t know the exact medication I take). The pharmacist on the other end is really apologetic and says that he’ll have the order filled in about 40 minutes. This works great because me and my mom were planning to leave for the hotel in around an hour from then. We confirm with the pharmacist if we can pick up up the order in an hour and he says that it’s fine. So, we decide to just continue with the rest of the day, and just pick up the medication on our way to the con. As we finish putting everything in the car, my mom gets another text notification from the pharmacy. My antidepressant is ready. Eventually, me and my mom have left the house with all of my stuff in the car and make our way the pharmacy. It’s only ten minutes from our place, but since we’re going to be driving for nearly 2 hours, we make that our only stop. I go into the pharmacy, all the way to the back. It’s not that busy, with maybe two or three people sitting down on the chairs waiting for their order. I go up to the woman at the desk, give her my details, and ask for my antidepressant. She says the order isn’t ready. I’m upset and confused because my mom HAD gotten a text from the pharmacy, telling her that my meds were ready. I asked her why they send the text, and she says she doesn’t know; maybe it was an error on the computer part, or they had refilled the wrong medication by mistake and send out the text, she’s not sure. Either way, my medication isn’t ready. I ask her how long would it take for them to give me my refill. She says, “maybe an hour, hour and a half.” I am dejected. I am upset. I am crestfallen. I am that little kitten being told to hang in there when there’s lava right under me, and my little paws are so sore from hanging on… But, I’m also drained, both physically and mentally (again, I’ve been off my meds for ~4 weeks), and I just end up resigned to it. If it was any other day, I might have been stubborn about it, or sucked it up and just waited that hour, but by then, I just didn’t have the mental energy for it. So, I thank the lady for her time and head back to my mom’s car. She notices that I’m empty-handed and asked me what happened. I answer, but before I could tell her to just forget about it and start making our way to the hotel, she interrupts me. “WHAT?! ARE YOU KIDDING ME?! Ay, Dios Mio–stay here!” And before I have a chance to say anything else, my mom steps out of the car and makes her way to the pharmacy. Because I’m too stunned and confused about what was going on, I decide to just stay in the car. Roughly ten-to-fifteen minutes later, my mom comes back and hands me a bag: inside, is the medication for my depression and a chocolate bar. Apparently, she demanded for the head pharmacist and ranted about how they’ve forgotten my medication twice now, and how irresponsible it is to just forget a refill ESPECIALLY when I haven’t taken it for four weeks, and how she had half a mind to make a formal complaint against the pharmacy, and complain to the rest of the community, and etc., etc. And they ended up making the refill and handing it to her in about five minutes. “Less than an hour,” she said. Did a part of me feel a teeny bit bad about my mom probably making a scene? Yeah, I can’t deny that. But the rest of me gladly ate that chocolate bar and just counted my blessings my mom was there with me. And with that, I leave off with a lesson: at the end of the day, even if a part of you feels bad, always find the strength and courage to stand up to people and make sure you’re being heard. And if you can’t, then a 5’1″ Hispanic mother will do just fine! Source: https://notalwaysright.com/?p=258880

[night-creeps]

I think the worst thing about the trans legislation changes Smith is proposing is that the trans healthcare system in Alberta is already fucking nonexistant. Afaik there is only 1 transgender care clinic in the province that provides for children, this is a team of psychiatrists and psychologists that provide a diagnosis of being transgender to be able to qualify for any trans healthcare and a team of endocrinologists that provide a prescription to hormone replacement therapy.

Currently under the law there is nothing stopped a kid under the age of 17 from getting top surgery, other than parental consent and a diagnosis. But no kid under 17 is getting these surgeries. You wanna know why?

When I came out as trans at about 16 years old, my therapist put in a referral to the clinic and told me I would hear from them. I brought it up occasionally, asking if she had heard anything. Then a year later I ask again and she says she had forgotten to send her certification to them and that the referral never actually got sent. She sends it for real this time, but then one of the handful of psychologists was stepping down so the wait time was going to be extended. I got my GP to send another referall to the other clinic (at the time there two). About 9 months later I get an 'unofficial' meeting with the psychologist who was stepping down because my psychiatrist was friends with them. Nearly 2 years after starting this process I was finally seeing someone! Not much came of it. Since it was unofficial nothing really happened, I was supposed to see him again but never did. About 6 months after that I finally got a call from the other clinic. They scheduled me an appointment with an endocrinologist for 3 months later. So. 2 and a half years after starting the process I was finally started on HRT. 8 months after that I graduated school and got to meet with more psychologists. I finally got put on a wait list for top surgery. For those few months though I was terrified I would have to start the whole process again once I turned 18. Thankfully that wasn't the case. So I was going to get a call to schedule a consult 6-9 months after that. A year later I call them and ask if there's any update. I get told the wait time is now 12-18 months. A little over 18 months after being put on the waitlist I finally schedule a consult with a plastic surgeon. Where I am told it is another 12-16 month wait until I can get surgery done.

I started this process at 16. I am currently fucking 20 years old. ITS BEEN FOUR YEARS. To get top surgery before 17 a kid would have to come out as trans at 12 and start the process immediately. Even if they have an accepting family, they might not have a therapist or psychologist willing to refer them. Most family doctors wouldn't refer them either. And unless they live in Edmonton or Calgary, if their parents can't take time off work to take them to their appointments they won't be starting this process at all.

There are 2 plastic surgeons offices in the entire province doing gender affirming care, and a shortage of anesthesiologists to boot so even if there were more surgeons there's still a shortage of OR's. And bottom surgery is not done in province, period.

Unless you come from a rich and supportive family who can fly you to a specialist out of province, there is an almost 0% chance that someone under the age of 17 is even getting gender affirming surgeries done. All it's doing is meaning that the waiting process can only start at 17. That's not even mentioning all the horrifying and queerphobic rules being put in place in regards to name and pronoun usage in school, or being able to learn about queer content at all.

[iscratchdoors]

blah blah trans healthcare rant dont mind me

i know people get pissy about regrets being given voice but holy fucking shit i should have not taken my time trying to get on hrt. i already knew i would eventually have to get top surgery to live my life normally at like 14 years old but for like 2-4 years after i was going back and forth on wanting to go on t, partially bc i wasn't sure i wanted all its effects and to look like a Manly Macho Man (wow a 15 year old struggling with the idea of looking like a 40 year old man? no way) and other gender stuff but mostly because everything i'd heard about trying to get hrt was a fucking horror story and i was already dealing with a ton of shit so i took my time to really make 100% sure i wanted to be on t (coincidentally happened when i became an adult and youthful androgyny stopped being an option, who woulda thought?) before ever contacting a doctor about it and holy FUCK was that a bad idea

it's always "take your time" and "don't rush into things" but holy fuck the waiting game is fucking insufferable. i did exactly that and took my time but turns out, so will my doctor! it does not matter how much Taking My Time(tm) i have done before seeking medical intervention this dipshit needs to take half a fucking year to even start talking to me about treatment. 6 appointments since last year and i've so far done nearly all the talking and gotten 0 information back and for about half of those ive been hearing that "next time we might talk about the next step" and guess what! we fucking haven't! because i need to wait, wait, wait, and make sure, and wait

for fucking what? ive already done all the making sure, giving me more time isn't going to change shit except delay my ability to live a normal goddamn life. he's not a psychologist and clearly doesn't know shit about autism, so i have no clue why he thinks he's qualified to decide if that has somehow tricked me into thinking im trans, a thing that famously happens. he's not telling me shit about fuck about how my treatment might even go and im not allowed to even fucking ask because that immediately gets shot down with "well we cant just give you hormones right away" BITCH FIRST OF ALL its been MONTHS ive had all my psychiatric work done for YEARS before i ever had to deal with your donkey-headed ass and im literally just ASKING. FOR INFORMATION. NOT A PRESCRIPTION.

but noooo we have to wait wait wait, wait before we even talk about the one goddamn thing i came for. like we arent sitting here having talks about my truest inner self and how to best achieve it or whatever the fuck i didnt come here for counseling and it certainly isnt what im fucking getting. like what the fuck does he think is going to happen during an arbitrarily decided waiting period? i suddenly change my mind? without him giving me ANY information about what im getting myself into? hes going to discover some secret psychosis i have that my ACTUAL PSYCHIATRIST didn't for years??? it doesn't make any sense. it's always "oh you can't get hormones on the first appointment" WELL CAN I AT LEAST BE FUCKING SENT TO ENDO BY THE GODDAMN SIXTH???? im not taking shit at my own pace im entirely reliant on someone else's that they decided for me with frankly no justification

and i can't even vent my frustrations about this to acquaintances and relatives because for some goddamn fucking reason, they almost ALWAYS take the doctor's side. i complain about the shit i had to go with my joints, nobody assumes the doctor was in the right when i tell a story of how they fucked something up or were a prick. i say one bad word about THIS motherfucker and suddenly well the doctor has his reasons surely :((( you cant just expect to be given what you want immediately :(((((( what if someone gets on hormones and changes their mind :(((((( not you just Someone :((((((( still your problem tho :(((((((( by the way i need you to listen to this story about how a trans person you've never met annoyed me once :) i dont have anything against trans people btw did i mention that? i really dont. if you want medical treatment die tho.

every single fucking time. what the hell is it about transgender healthcare specifically that always makes people play defense for a medical professional they dont know anything about. i know im kind of unhinged with anger and hyperbolic from rant frenzy but i mean no exaggeration when i say that i genuinely believe that half of these people would rather see 100 trans dudes kill themselves than let 1 confused cis girl end up with a deep voice and extra body hair. it's fucking ridiculous. even my goddamn social worker gave me the "can't expect hormones at first appointment" speech. a fucking WEEK ago. first appointment was LAST YEAR girl. no matter how directly i describe exactly what's wrong with my doctor's approach and why (it's not only the waiting period he's just a general cunt) somehow the narrative of the entitled impatient trans person who is attacking this poor poor medical professional on an unhinged whim when really they could just accept themself and be cis and happy :( is the first thing that springs to their mind. there's not an ounce of trust in me, or anyone else in my position.

and this is all just the first step. i'm already looking into paying out of pocket for surgery because the fucking rate this is going at doing it the standard way seems a last resort more than anything. but to even get into talks about getting surgery done, in ANOTHER FUCKING COUNTRY most likely, at that, because fuck me for being born here, i of course need to be diagnosed and on hrt! haha! amazing! i can't do shit to progress any further until ONE OLD FART decides that i'm allowed! wanna permanently ruin your health with booze and smoking? sure! you're an adult! wanna get a cosmetic surgery in line with your agab? aye if you can pay for it! oh you want to get a different cosmetic surgery to improve your mental health at well over 18? now hold on there bucko we're going to need 2 doctors to sign off on that, what if youre just being an insane wackadoodle and you'll regret the horrible, horrible fate of not having titties while living as a dude. that's not a decision you can just make. have you considered spending the rest of your life unable to comfortably go outside or even move around much inside your own home instead? seems like a much safer option.

and all the waiting and frustration is one thing but the absolute lack of support is what really finishes the job. i go to my dumbass dipshit appointments and do my dumbass dipshit jester dance of how good of a trans i am and may i please please please have a crumb of medical care sir? spare a doing your fucking job sir? and after that goddamn exhausting ordeal of justifying my right to existence and well being i go home and instead of winding down i fucking do it again. no reprieve. and then i go to my room and i wait, wait, wait, wait, and wait, and it never fucking ends, and all i do is wait, wait wait, wait, wait, and i barely even get to talk to people who aren't paid to do it anymore, and i wait, wait, wait, and im slowly going more and more insane, and wait, wait, wait, and life is a fucking nightmare, and i wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, and there's no one left to ask for help, and i wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, and think about putting a hole in my skull, and wait, and wait, and wait

[kryptidkhaos]

Disabled Trans Man Off His Hormones

I’ve been off my hormones for the past three months now because the local LGBT clinic (which only happens once a month) keeps fucking me over.

TLDR; I need around $200 so I can get back on my HRT. If you want to hear about the nightmare I've been dealing with and why I'm in this situation, hit the read more. This is an e-begging post and I'm trying not to feel shitty about it. p@ypal.me/chaosqueer

v3nmo: @chaosqueer

c@shapp: @chaosqueer

In November, even though I had an appointment made weeks in advance, they overbooked themselves and had to tell me they were full for the night and couldn’t see me, but reassured me I could go to any of the other clinic nights that month to get my hormones filled. That was a lie. I went to multiple other clinic nights, after calling their main office several times to double-check this information multiple times as well, only to either be sent home straight away after being told they “weren’t qualified to treat my needs” OR sitting through their entire process of waiting, going through the intake, getting an exam, talking to a doctor, etc (a process that takes at least 4 hours minimum), only to be told at the very end “no, actually, we’re so sorry, that’s not something we’re allowed to do here. you need to go to the LGBT clinic for that”.

So I threw up my hands and supposed my only option was to wait for the upcoming LGBT night in December. So that’s exactly what I did. I made an appointment weeks in advance, just like I did last time. I resolved to get there extra early so I could be the first in line. I stood outside in the cold with a half dozen other trans folk who were waiting to be seen for about an hour, only to have a car pull in front of the building and nurse lean out to say, “clinic’s closed for the holidays, sorry!” and drive away, even though all of us had appointments and their online calendar hadn’t shown any holiday hours.

So once again, I’d been completely fucked over and had to wait two weeks for the clinic offices to reopen at all for me to even be able to call them and ask when the hell they would be open again. I called and called and called as soon as New Year’s was over and finally got a call back about a week later and was able to make another appointment for the LGBT clinic for January. That was supposed to be today. I got two different phone calls this morning reminding me that my appointment was today.

I just got home, after driving 20mins there and back on a nearly empty gas tank I’m scrapping pennies together to try and keep something in, and after once again standing in the cold for almost an hour, got sent away from a shutdown clinic. They only ever have one security guard on staff for these nights. The one scheduled for tonight got sick, called out, and there was no one to replace him.

So the entire clinic had to be shut down because they’re not allowed to legally operate without one. Me and over a dozen other people who had been standing there had our information taken down (after there were several complaints all around about how last months clinic had also been closed without notice) and told that we would be rescheduled “as soon as possible” and just....turned away.

This is AFTER the absolute SHITSHOW they pulled on @renthony last week while we were trying to get our antidepressants. 

I can’t keep fucking doing this. I can’t keep relying on a bunch of student volunteers who treat us like homework assignments and guinea pigs.

There’s another clinic in town we’re going to try and get into, but it’s sliding scale we’re going to need to apply for and while “cheap” is good, it’s still more expensive than “free”, which is the only reason we’ve been tolerating getting fucked over like this for so long. But that’s still not going to get my hormones covered. I need to make an appointment with the local Planned Parenthood, who only just started offering HRT services at the end of last year, and that’s going to run approximately $200 I do. not. have. I had been holding on to $25 of my birthday money specifically so I knew I would be able to afford to fill my prescription first thing after my appointment today

So yeah, if you made it this far, then I’m sure you’ve guess this is an e-begging post, and I appreciate you getting this far. I’m tired of having to do this, I’m especially tired of my family constantly being accused of making up all of the shit we go through like scam artists, but what other choice do I have at this point?

Please. I’m so exhausted.

[libraryofloveletters]

so cute fic request. You are Maddie's OBGYN and at every appointment she insists to set you up with Buck, you deny her and finally one say yes just to be quiet and you meet what a great guy Buck is

The Set Up

Evan Buckley x Reader

Warnings: mentions of pregnancy and doctors offices, reader wears makeup, alcohol and the consumption of

Category: Straight Up Fluff 

Word Count: 2.6k

Author’s Note: here's a lil late v-day present for y’all :) 

Part 2: Dispatch: Labour in Progress 

----

“How does the baby look ?” Maddie was laid back, her eyes on the monitor. “Perfect, a perfect little baby” you smile at her as you hand her a towel to wipe up the gel. 

“How many copies would you like ?” you turn towards the ultrasound machine. 

“As many as you'd give me” she laughed, pulling her shirt back down. 

“Dad’s working ?” you asked, leaning back in the chair. “Yeah, he’s been trying to get off a day to come with me” she sits up, pulling out her phone. 

Maddie was one of your favourite patients, she was a sweetheart and always happy, regardless of what was happening, you didn't know how she did it. She began showing you a few pictures of the nursery and two guys who were in the picture. The first guy was Chimney, who was the baby’s father and Maddie’s boyfriend, the two of you had met at a previous appointment and the other guy, who you hadn't meant yet but felt like you had, was her brother Evan or Buck, which is what he went by. 

“You know, if you want to just come in one day when he's off work, we can just do a regular check-up just so he can see. It doesn’t have to be anything special for you to come in” 

“You’d do that ?” 

“Of course I would, between me and you, you’re my favourite patient” 

Maddie smiled at you, “so,” she gave you a look, “since I am your favourite patient, would you also go on a date with Buck ?” she asked, you nearly choked on your coffee. Maddie had a habit of trying to set you up with her brother. She did it often but it still caught you off guard each time. You coughed, “Maddie, no.” you laughed, “that would be unprofessional” 

“Oh come on, take a risk y/n. Life goes on and one date won't kill you” 

“Who said I’m looking ?” 

“Please, you are. You can't lie to me” she smiled, you shook your head. “Still a no Maddie” you handed her the copies of the ultrasound. “If you do want to do the ultrasound when he’s home, just give me a call” you smiled at her and she got up. “I will, thank you”

-- 

A few weeks later and Maddie was back in your office. “Good afternoon momma,” you were looking at the files as you walked in, pushing the door shut with your foot. Taking a seat on your little spinny chair, you look up when Maddie says good morning back to you. 

“Oh Chimney, it’s nice to see you” you smile as you shake the gel bottle. 

“Yeah,” he chuckled, “it’s good to be here” 

You hand him the gel bottle, he looked at you with brows furrowed. “You’re a paramedic, aren't you ? Go ahead” you chuckle as you turn the ultrasound machine on. “How are you feeling ?” you ask, “good actually, thanks for asking” Chim answers you. 

“I’m glad to hear that but I was asking Maddie” Chim’s mouth forms an O and he nods, Maddie smiles at him. “I’m good, baby’s good too. Kicking a lot recently. Especially when I drink orange juice” she chuckled. 

“And still just the one cup of coffee ?”

“Yeah, he won’t let me have anymore” she groans 

“Good, as he should be. You’re lucky I agreed to the one cup Maddie, you know I rather if you didn’t” 

“Ugh,” she groaned and rolled her eyes, “not you too” 

“I’m your doctor, it's my job to remind you unfortunately” 

Maddie sighs and rolls her eyes once again. You get what she meant, you couldn’t be pregnant and not have coffee, pregnancy is exhausting as it is, imagine it without coffee. “you know how to use an ultrasound machine right ?” you look over at Chimney, who was looking rather confused. 

”I do, why ?” 

“Would you like to do it ?” 

“Really ?” 

“Yeah, I let the dads have a chance to do it sometime. Makes them feel a little more involved” 

“I'd love too” 

You hand him the wand and step back, you watch as he rolls it across her belly. It was always sweet when the fathers came to the appointment, even more so when they're involved. 

“Y/n?” 

“Yes Maddie?” 

“Will you go on a date with Buck ?” She smiled sweetly at you, Chim looked at her, half shocked and half confused. 

“If I say yes to one date, will you quit bugging me about it ?” 

“Of course, just one date is all I’m asking for” 

“Does he know you’re setting him up ?” 

“Yeah- well no ? but he won't mind. It's part of my job as his sister” 

“Maddie, I have siblings as well, you don't see me setting them up” 

“Yeah yeah, that’s fine” 

Chim turned to you. “everything looks good doc” 

“Then we’re all done. Just hit print on the machine and you’ll get the pictures” 

Maddie wiped the gel off her stomach. She took a pen from the desk and scribbled a number down before handing the paper to you. “That’s his number, just message him” 

“You’re setting me up and I have to message him too ?” 

“Oh come on, you’ll be fine. Thank you for this and I'll be expecting details at my next appointment!” She gave you a smile before walking out. Chim looked at you, “I’m sorry I didn't know she was going to do that.” You laughed, “it's okay, she’s not the first person to do that. You should catch up with her though, she walks really fast for a pregnant lady” you chuckle, Chim smiled and walked out to find Maddie. You had some time to kill before your next appointment, you looked down at the paper in your hand. 

Do you text or not ? Wouldn't that be creepy ? Like oh hey, I'm your sister’s doctor let's go on a date.

You know what ? 

Screw it, what’s the worst that could happen. 

To Buck: Hey, I'm y/n. Your sister gave me your number, hope this isn't weird. She's been trying to set me up with you for months, thought we’d hit it off haha

God that was so stupid. Why the hell did you put haha ?

From Buck: Hey, it’s cool. She’s weird like that. What’s up ?

Oh shit, he answered. 

To Buck: Just at work, how about you ?

From Buck: Same thing 

Wait what do I say now ? Do you ask him out ? 

From Buck: Hope this isn't too forward of me or anything like that, but maybe you’d wanna grab a drink tonight ? Only if you’re free

Guess you don't have to ask him now 

To Buck: Yeah, that sounds good. Pick a place and let me know ? I’m off at 4 so anytime after that is fine. 

From Buck: I’m off at 6, how about 7 at the bar on Main Street ? 

To Buck: sounds good, see you then 

It was now 3:30 and Maddie was your last patient of the day. There was no harm in leaving now. After putting away your files and replying to a few emails from patients, you headed out. Only one issue you had when you got home was what to wear. 

Well so you thought. 

Taking a shower was the easy part, trying to do your hair and makeup with only 2 hours left, was a bit of a hassle. First disaster of the night was too much mousse in your hair, making it sticky and tacky. Washing it out, you managed to set it the way you like. The powder compact had fallen onto the floor, you hoped it wasn’t broken, turns out hope isn't enough. The other powder you had was far too light for your complexion right now and you decide against makeup for the night. 

Let him meet the bare you, you can wow him next time, if there is a next time. 

Deciding on a simple outfit, a white shirt that fit you nicely and a pair of black pants that went along with it. In your head, it seemed boring but in the mirror, it looked much better. Walking into the kitchen, there was a half drunk glass of wine from the night before.

Stale wine or nervous wreak ? Stale wine it is. 

You down the wine, spilling some onto your shirt. “Are you kidding-” groaning and turning back to the room, you end up changing your entire outfit. A pair of blue jeans and a black top that fit you in all the right places. One more look in the mirror and a hand through your hair, you headed out the door. 

It didn't take you long to arrive at the bar, as you only lived a few minutes off Main Street. You had seen Buck from the countless pictures Maddie had shown you so it didn’t take long to spot in at a table in the corner either. 

“Hey” you walked over, a smile on your face. He stood up, “Hi! you must be y/n” he leaned in for a hug, you mirrored his actions. “I am, it’s nice to meet you” 

The two of you sat across from each other and there was a bottle of beer in front of you. Buck spoke up when he noticed you noticing the bottle, “I ordered for you, I hope that's alright- you can order something else” 

“It’s fine, thank you” you take a sip, not your usual choice in drink but you didn't need to complain either. There was some silence for a while, not uncomfortable but not comfortable either. Anyone that passed by could tell it was a first date, if you could even call it that. 

“How do you know Maddie ?” he asks, you smile at him and take a sip of the beer before answering him. 

“I’m her OB” 

“Her ?” Buck had a confused expression on his face. 

“Her doctor, her obstetrician actually” 

“Oh for baby Buckley” he nodded. 

“Yeah, she's been bugging me about you since we’ve met actually. She’s sweet but she’s persistent” you chuckle and Buck gives you a smile, “that’s my sister” 

The night went by rather quickly, the two of you sharing work stories. Buck told you about the time he worked a full moon and they responded to a call at a yoga class only to have 3 women go into labour simultaneously. 

“It was the full moon I swear! I tried to tell Bobby but he didn't listen to me!” he said, laughing. 

You nodded and laughed too, “no, it’s true. I've had so many full moon babies. I never book off full moons because I know someone is going to go into labour”

“Thank you! Someone gets what I mean!”

You then told him about the time you filled in for your colleague, he told you it was supposed to be a regular birth but turns out it was quadruplets. It was nice to find someone who understood your weird work schedule. The two of you shared stories until the waitress came over to tell you that they’d be closing in a few minutes. It was a little past midnight when she came over, the two of you decided to call it a night and head out together. 

“How are you getting home ?” he asked you, you walked with him over to his Jeep that was parked down the street. “I’ll just walk, I don’t live too far from here” 

“No” he stated while shaking his head 

“No ?” you questioned him, your brows furrowed as you looked at the man in front of you.

“I invited you out, at least let me take you home. It’s late too, it won't be right to let you walk home by yourself” 

“Are you sure ? I don't want you to go out of your way” 

“Oh no it’s cool, c’mon” 

He opened the door for you like the gentlemen he is and then got in after. “Which way my darling ?” he gave you a cheesy smile which made you chuckle. “A left at the next light and the brown building is me” you leaned back in the seat. It was quiet as he drove down the street, you looked over at him and admired him. From the way his hand rested on his wheel to the little smile on his face, even to the birthmark above his eye. 

“It's rude to stare” 

“Can't help myself, you're pretty” 

Oh shit, did you just-

Buck looked over at you, a wicked little smile on his face. “You think I’m pretty ?” 

You could feel the blush on your face, “uh- well- um I guess ?” 

“I think you more than guess that but whatever you say” he smiled 

Buck pulled into the building parking lot, he stopped and his head hit the seat as he leant back. Looking over at you, “let me walk you up ?” 

“You’ve already done enough, it's fine” 

“It’s fine. Come on” he got out, you mirrored his actions. Buck followed behind you as the two of you made your way up to your apartment. Unlocking the door, you stepped in and he stood by the door. 

“Do you want to come in ?” setting your keys on the counter, you look back at the man who was leaning against the doorframe. 

“I’d love too but I've got the first shift. Maybe another time ?” 

“Yeah, that’s fine” walking back over to him, you stood in front of him. Even with him leaning, he still towered over you. 

“I had a nice time tonight” you say, he nods. “I did too. Maybe we can do this again sometime ?” 

“I'd like that” 

“Okay.” he smiles, “well, good night then y/n” 

“Good night Buck” standing on your toes, you go to kiss his cheek but it seems he had the same idea, both of you turning your heads at the same time and your lips were on his. Buck’s hand cupped your face for the few moments your lips were on his. When you pulled away, Buck had a slight red tint on his face, a blush or simply could have been the heat coming from your apartment, either way you were sure you looked the same way. 

“How does Saturday sound ? Noon for lunch if you’re free ?” he breaks the silence.

"Saturday sounds perfect” 

Buck smiled at you once more, he turned and began walking back to the elevator. He stopped in the middle of the hallway, turning back once again and walked towards your door.  He leaned down and gave you one more kiss. Laughing at the sweetheart that was now smiling at you from the other end of the hallway, you watched as he stepped on the elevator and then shut your door. 

Outside of your building was a happy Buck who skipped his way over to his car, his keys twirling on his finger with a big grin on his face. As he got into his car, he sent his sister a text message. 

To Maddie: You seem to know me better than I think, thank you. 

Upstairs, there was a similar scene, a happy you skipping their way to bed with a smile on their face. As you laid in bed, you too sent a text message to Maddie. 

To Maddie: Your match making efforts have worked, thank you. 

----

taglist: @mrs-dr-reid @ssa-volturi @advicefromnixxxx @dralexreid @keenmarvellover @venusrosepetal @mikaelson-emma @beth-winchester21

[argylemikewheeler]

July 1st, 1985

what the first ep of (my) s3 would look like if the main concept was: both Steve and Will are gay in 1985’s Summer of Love and the town’s enemy is a little more human; loving friendships, very confused adults, and Will Byers Actually Getting Help

“Harrington!”

“Yes, sir.” Steve looked up from his desk. He dropped his crossword and looked to be at attention; the police station’s phone wasn’t ringing, though, so there wasn’t really anything he should have been doing. Hopper stepped out of his office, angling himself toward the door rather than Steve’s desk island.

“Do you think you’ll be able to-- Harrington, what are you doing?” Hopper caught sight of the pocket thesaurus sitting on his desk (the last name written on the inside cover not belonging to Steve, of course). Hopper fixed his sunglasses on the edge of his nose, looking over them and down at Steve.

“I’m just, uh, working on my vocabulary.” Steve said. Hopper blinked twice, waiting. Steve wasn’t going to say the truth: he was dating-- well seeing someone-- way smarter than him. This wasn’t for joy or boredom. He was studying to impress. “It’s college prep, sir.”

“The crossword?” The chief evened his stare. “This your old man’s suggestion?” Of all the things Steve’s father was telling him to do with himself, he  wished  some of it was simply pecking at a crossword over a twelve hour shift.  Fucking off  and  being a better piece of shit son  just wasn’t feasible to accomplish in one summer.

“He swears by it.”

“Okay, well. Uh, moving on from that,” Hopper grabbed his hat from the coat rack. The topic of Steve’s father always made Hopper stiffen up; it was definitely the main reason Hopper gave Steve his job at the station, but it still created more questions. Steve knew Hopper and his father went to high school together, but he never asked his father about those years-- beyond his baseball glory stories. “I’ve got plans tonight and I need to head out early. Can you handle things on your own for a while. At least until the night shift comes in?”

“I’ll be fine.” Steve made sure not to acknowledge the crossword on his desk as he nodded. He was really good at his job, he was. He was also just, unfortunately, still a pretty shitty boyfriend and needed all the vocab help he could get. “What’s the pressing story?”

“I have dinner.” Hopper was already trying to walk out the door. “So  don’t  call me. For the love of God.”

“Oh, don’t worry, Chief. I--” Steve was sure it was the cool July wind that slammed the door on the last half of his sentence. Not Hopper. “won’t... Have a good time, I guess.”

The police station was empty: it was another boring and wonderfully quiet Monday in Hawkins. There’d been some calls to break up disturbances at city hall in the past few days, but somehow everyone just seemed to agree that Mondays-- the longest shift of Steve's whole week-- was the day everyone went about their quietest day.

There were a few officers milling in and out of the back lounge and front door, casting a quick glance to Steve as he muttered and threatened fourteen down and six across. Nancy had been helping close the gaps of his post-high school education-- without knowing just what for-- but had been picking up most hours at the Post to try and elbow her way into their good graces; it put his tutoring on hold. So here he was, groaning at some clues about classical artists he’d never heard of.

There were other reasons Steve was sure the other officers thought he was odd-- things he was  sure  his father had passed along in spitting rants-- but Steve didn’t mind. No one said anything to his face.

“Hey Flo! Is, uh, is Steve here?” The question was asked with the answer already in mind.

Steve sat up in his chair, twisting around to see down the hall to the back entrance to the station. There weren’t many parking spots to fill, but he knew a certain someone who preferred it to street parking.

“Jonathan?”

“Oh, I hear him. Thanks-- hey!” Jonathan hurried out from the hall, his camera bumping against his stomach and bag slapping against his leg in the same rhythm. He’d gotten a new haircut recently: semi-wonky bangs and a closer cut in the back. All thanks to Steve’s peer pressure and Mrs. Byers’s kitchen shears.

“What are you doing here?”

“Sorry to stop by your work like this--” he lowered his voice as he stopped at the corner of Steve’s desk. “I know we said we wouldn’t do that, but we got an extra muffin in the lunch order and I know you’re always starving after a Monday shift so.” Jonathan produced a folded brown paper bag from his satchel. “Here.”

“Oh, thanks.” Steve wanted to say so much more, but had to settle. No more. None of what they’d decided they wouldn’t say. Not until the summer had ended. They wanted to see if they lasted longer than the convenience of loose summer schedules.

“Won’t I see you, uh, later, though?” At eight, when Steve got sent home he always drove straight to Jonathan’s. Jonathan started late on Tuesdays and Steve had off; they had the time to waste. “Or is this your way of telling me to stay home?”

“No! No we’re still... hanging out.” Jonathan had gotten really good at cooking and treated Steve to weekly dinner. It was a nice gesture at first, but Steve started growing fond of the company. They both did around mid-June. “But, I think Mike’s going to be over so. Be  cool , alright? Keep it cool.”

“Cool, got it.” Steve leaned back in his chair. He moved his papers to leave a corner of his desk for Jonathan to sit on. No one was in the main office; it was a harmless invitation.

“I have to get going...” It sounded like an excuse, a dive for safety. “And I’m sure you have, um,  puzzles  to do?” Jonathan pretended not to be endeared. He tried, he really did. He  failed , but Steve pretended he didn’t notice.

“Don’t want to sit and help me figure out the title of Mozart’s last opera?” He patted the desk, daring to be more direct.

“I really have to go.” Jonathan was genuine, looking at his watch. “The Post only let me out early today because I have to go pick up Will from his doctor’s appointment.”

“Wait.” Steve put the cap back on his pen. “Isn’t Will’s therapy on Wednesday?”

“Yeah, but with Mom’s schedule and the store being all weird-- we had to move it to today. And you know we typically have a family night after-- so he feels okay, you know-- but we  can’t  . So,  that’s why Mike’s coming over. Hopefully they’ll be idiots and tire Will out and he’ll sleep okay.” Tension rose in Jonathan’s voice quickly, explaining his day as if going over a laundry list; never rehearsing it but having it memorized.

“I can stay home if you need time, Jonathan.”

“No, really. I want you to come over.” Jonathan sighed and placed his hand on the emptied spot on Steve’s desk. “Besides, you can’t break tradition after a little over  one month , then it was just a weird habit.”

Steve Harrington did not consider his summer fling a w  eird habit . If anything, it was the most sensical thing he’d done in a very long time. Even after getting rejected from all his colleges, and never hearing the end of his father’s lectures, 1985 had been very kind to him. And that was mostly due to Jonathan’s inherent nature to be the same.

“I’ll see you after eight.” Steve smiled and reached for his hand-- but averted to grab a piece of memo paper by the phone.

“I’m sorry to leave in a rush.” Jonathan hitched his bag up, checking his watch again. “I just, I really need to get going.”

“Don’t worry. The muffin is  more  than enough.” Steve said. “And seeing you wasn’t too bad either.”

“Slow day, huh?” Jonathan said. The corner of his mouth quirked with a flattered, embarrassed smile. Steve tried to act nonchalant, like he wasn’t so goddamn relieved to see a familiar and happy face. Especially  his  familiar and happy face. “Well, good thing I have another surprise for you.”

“You can barely fit your camera in that bag, what could you possibly-- hey!” Steve missed grabbing Jonathan’s arm as he walked away, heading for the front door. “Where are you going?” Jonathan kept walking, checking his watch the whole way. “Hello?”

“Delivered right on time.” Jonathan pushed the front door open to the station-- but was nearly knocked over as a green  dash  barreled through it.

"Steve! Steve! Steve!” The dash was suddenly grabbing him by the shoulders. “You got the job!”

“Henderson! Oh my god! You’re back!” In an unlikely impulse, Steve grabbed Dustin in a hug, taking advantage of the change of height. “Holy shit, I nearly forgot! First of the month!”

“See you, Steve.” Jonathan walked across the room to the back entrance again. His hand braced the back of Steve’s chair, brushing across his shoulders.

“O-Okay! Yeah, see you!” Steve sputtered, losing his reminded  cool  in an instant. “Bye.”

Dustin pulled away slowly. “What was that?” It looked like  everyone  was too smart for Steve.

“Nothing. He brought me a surprise lunch-- which was an  obvious decoy to the main event! You! How are you, buddy? How was camp?”

“Oh, it was fantastic. Steve, I  have  to show you all my inventions! Camp was the  best  four weeks  of  my  life .” Dustin hopped up onto the corner of his desk. His heels tapped against the empty metal drawers. He was jittery, nearly uncontainable, but still so composed-- if only to be focused all on Steve.

Steve held his hands out, letting him start. “Lay it on me, Henderson! I want to hear everything. I missed you like crazy.”

“Well, first, obviously. I have to tell you about my girlfriend--”

“Whoa! Whoa!  Girlfriend  ? That fast?” Steve hadn’t been expecting any of his dating advice to work. It had been coming from such a poor and confused part of himself, Steve figured it was destined to fail. Apparently, it was just  Steve  that was-- when flirting with women at least. “Damn, there’s something in you after all!”

“She’s  super  smart, Steve. I’ve never met any girl like her. She’s a genius and she’s so pretty. God, I miss her already-- and I  just  saw her.”

Steve looked over his shoulder. He knew the feeling. “That’s great, man. I mean, I’m super happy for you. Like, that’s  crazy . That’s freaking awesome.”

“So what about you? How are the ladies? I mean, you work for the  Chief  now. All the ladies you could need and more, am I right?”

Steve used to be really good at this part of the lie, but with Dustin it felt cheap. He didn’t need to lie to him, but that was the deal; no matter how much that person was Steve’s best and most beloved friend, their secret was a dead-bolt, vaulted secret.

“Eh, not too great. Only girl my own age I see-- besides Nancy, really-- is the night-shift girl, Robin. But she’s not really-- we’re just friends. She’s alright. Leaves me weird drawings in the memo pad.”

“Ooo, she sounds cool.” Dustin raised his eyebrows. “Do you know her from school?”

“Yeah, we didn’t really run in the same crowds but-- it’s not like that, man. It’s really not.” Steve started unwrapping his lunch. “It’s so not like that with Robin.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means I’m not...  looking  at the moment.”

Steve had originally decided to not go looking for trouble. After he and Nancy split in the beginning of his senior year, he didn’t start looking for an immediate replacement. The illusion of thinking he was in love with Nancy-- capable of being in love with Nancy-- was a hard thing to have come crumbling down. Steve needed time to get his own bearings, to put his feet firmly on the ground, and have them lifted off when his father grabbed him by the lapels and--

Steve hadn’t gone looking for trouble. Hadn’t gone looking for love either. But somehow, both seemed to find him.

Jonathan was late. He usually wasn’t but Will was trying not to be worried. It was a different day than usual and he knew how awful Jonathan’s boss and co-workers were. Will tried not to be worried-- he wasn't. It was just that he had spent an hour talking about the night his father left their family; standing outside the doctor’s office was a bit nerve-wracking. It felt too familiar, even with all the talking and note-scribbling.

Finally, Jonathan’s car pulled into the lot. He was speeding, as much as his car  could  speed: he knew he was late, which made Will feel a little bit better. No one had forgotten him. It was just traffic or his bosses or maybe just hitting all the red lights. As Jonathan stopped in front of the curb and waved Will in, Will could see he was jittery-- he was  upset  that he was late. Will felt bad for counting the minutes.

Not that he did it out of impatience or anything. Will just formed the habit after getting his new watch. It matched Mike’s. Completely on accident, of course.

“Hey, buddy! Sorry I’m late. I was-- I had to run an errand really fast. How long were you waiting.” He moved his bag and threw it onto the backseat. Will would’ve held it on his lap.

“I wasn’t keeping track.” Will said, climbing into the passenger seat. Will wanted to ask if his bag had Jonathan’s camera in it. If everything was okay. He didn’t. It seemed like Jonathan had been in his therapy with Will, just as shaken up. “It’s okay. Thanks for getting me.”

Jonathan waited until Will put on his seat belt. “Of course. We’re always here to pick you up. Therapy is important; you have to go.”

Will laughed before he could stop himself. “You sound like Mom.”  Why?

“Because she’s right.” Therapy was still kind of weird to Will-- since  no one else  in his grade had to do it-- but he humored his family. It was helping, if he had to admit it. But it was still embarrassing sometimes.

His therapist, Dr. Bright--  Rose Marie, as she insisted on being called-- was a send-out from the Lab, but disguised within a private practice just outside of town. She was able to listen to Will talk about what he saw and felt during his time with the Mind Flayer without trying to commit him. Almost nothing was off limits. Almost nothing.

Will checked his watch again.

“Are you excited to see Mike tonight?” The question was pointed, but Will wasn’t sure why it made him nervous. “I mean, I feel like I haven’t seen him in a bit.”

“Oh, yeah. He’s always with El.”

Will was sure they  weren’t  dating. El was just on a year-long stint of self-discovery and, besides Max, Mike was the person she trusted the most to help make as many helpful mistakes as possible. He bought her books to read and new music to try. It was really sweet, seeing Mike take such big strides toward helping their friend. But there was also a part of Will that felt dejected:  his  sort of help had to be prescribed and couldn’t be replaced with a warm laugh from one Mike Wheeler.

Will was sick while his friends were growing.

“Is there something wrong?” Jonathan used to ask the question like Will was one trembling lip away from crying-- but this time, he asked it like Will had his hand on the door, seconds from jumping out. “Will, are you okay?”

“Yeah.” Will nodded. “I’m fine. Just-- I talked a lot today and I’m tired.”

“Do you want to cancel with Mike--”

“No.” Will had been looking forward to having time with Mike--  just  Mike-- for a whole week. He wanted to sit on his floor with his best friend and be a kid again. Just for the night-- maybe draw some of Mike’s old campaigns or sketch out an idea for his own. He just wanted to remember something good about the past four years. After his hour with Dr. Bright, it all felt painful. Like his childhood naivety had been broken and every conversation he overheard in his house dripped with venom and disdain.

Will didn’t like picturing his house that way. It was a place that loved and raised him, a place he felt safe. He didn’t like thinking the conversations he heard being screamed through the walls were trapped in the drywall.

His arms felt heavy and his chest felt like it was made of metal-- he kept tasting it in his mouth. Will leaned back against the seat and reached for the radio. Jonathan turned it down before Will had even changed the station.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I just want to see Mike.” Will said, his mouth too honest and his mind shrouded in guilt. “I just want to see my friend.”

“Okay. Okay.” Jonathan nodded somewhat somberly. “I understand. Let’s go pick him up. He’s at his house right? Not El’s-- o-or The Sinclair’s or anything?”

“No. He’s at his.” Will crossed his arms and tried to find the loose string-- the thing that could uncoil Jonathan’s still-tightening anxiety. “Are you still dating Nancy?”

Jonathan turned to look at Will, nearly crashing the car. That was the wrong string. “What?”

“Nancy? Are you still dating her?”

“I was never dating Nancy.” Jonathan laughed, shaking his head. “I’m not dating Mike’s sister, don’t worry.” The clarification was strange and felt off-topic. Like Jonathan was trying to talk about something else.

“I thought you were. You guys hung out a lot during school.” Will heard her voice through the walls too. Always gentle, never yelling. Except when she was losing at playing cards. Then she shouted.

“She was helping me pass chemistry. That’s all.” Jonathan turned the radio up a little. Will checked his watch. “And then she helped me apply to the Post internship-- she’s great at writing papers, did you know that? A real wordsmith. Is Mike a writer too?”

He was, he  really  was. Grammatically, Will ran out of red pens trying to help, but creatively? Will envied Mike’s ability. “I don’t know. We don’t really talk about that kind of stuff like you two do… Since you two are dating.”

“We’re  not .” Jonathan laughed. Will took advantage of an upcoming stop sign to lean forward and look at his brother’s crimson face. “We’re not, Will, okay? We’re really not. I’d tell you.”

“You’d tell me?”

“Of course! I’d tell you if I… I had a girlfriend. Which I don’t!” He stayed at the stop sign for a bit too long. “Do you?”

There was an option to play dumb, to make Jonathan ask more directly:  do you have a girlfriend, Will ? but it sounded far more painful than being honest, than being as lonely as he was.

“No. I don’t.”

“And you’d tell me. If you were dating someone?” Jonathan looked at Will, hopeful but scarcely so. “You’ll tell me if anything big happens in your life?”

“Yeah.” There wouldn’t be anything happening at all that summer, that was for  damn sure . “Absolutely.”

Steve had about seventy percent of his puzzle done-- fifty of which was because Dustin was an unstoppable genius with no tolerance for Steve’s careful pace. It was just about quarter past seven, and Steve’s back was getting sore from sitting in his chair all day. He only liked sitting when it was in his car, on his way to the Byers's House, careful, of course, to obey all traffic laws.

Steve was packing his crosswords and pens up in the top drawer of his desk when something clattered the back door open. Steve grabbed a pen and whipped around in his seat, as if to wield it like a weapon.

“Hello? Who’s there?”

“Hey dingus.” Luckily, Steve couldn’t even see Robin yet-- or rather, she couldn’t see him or his emphasized eye roll. She could hear him groan though. “Hey, shut up and quit whining. I’m sending you home early.”

Her head popped out from the hallway. Robin’s ponytail was high on her head, the hair flopping over and getting caught in her stringy bangs. She flung her backpack out from behind her and tossed it toward Steve. She wasn’t in her uniform yet, only wearing the buttoned up shirt-- unbuttoned and showing her torn and dyed shirt underneath. She was wearing jogging shorts, her knees torn up and covered with Band-Aids. They reminded Steve of the ones taped to his face after getting a plate smashed into his forehead. Deceivingly cheerful.

“What are you doing here early?” Steve stood and followed her, holding her backpack awkwardly in his hands. “You’re  never  early.” Eight on the dot. Every time.

“I figure you want to get out of here tonight.” She didn’t even stop to look at Steve as they walked into the back room. “Probably want to see your boyfriend.”

Her words weren’t sharp, but Steve still recoiled. He let his arms, and her bag, hang by his sides.

“Who? Jonathan?” The only way Jonathan and Robin had ever met was in the hallways of Hawkins High. She definitely never saw them interact at the station-- or on any of their nights together: they were always indoors. “He’s  not my boyfriend.”

“First off, I didn't even say a name." Shit. "Second, he came in the other day looking for you.” Robin started buttoning her shirt up, fixing the collar as she finally turned to see Steve. “He was really upset-- didn’t even know what time it was to know you weren’t working.”

“Upset?” Technically, it wasn’t Steve’s problem. It was the deal; they didn’t  have  to care about each other’s lives. It was just summer. It was just like any other summer.

“Yeah. Crying, sniffling, snot-- the whole nine, man.” Robin sounded extremely sympathetic despite beginning to change her pants. Steve whipped around, covering his face. “You should go see him. Make sure he’s okay. Be a good boyfriend... shithead.”

“He’s  not--”

“Steve, I’m the last person you should be arguing with.” Robin laughed-- and it was only momentarily threatening. Until, of course, Steve realized what she meant.

Like all good secrets kept at Hawkins PD, Steve kept his mouth shut and nodded even if she wasn’t looking.

“Yes, sir--ma'am-- Robin.”

“So, are you going to go or what, dingus?” She tapped him on the shoulder. “Get out of here-- and tell me all about it Wednesday.”

Steve blinked at her, holding out her bag. As if it was enough thanks to give her back her own property. “Are we… friends, or something?”

“No, of course not.” She winked, slapping his arm. “Just looking out for one of my own.”

After picking Mike up from his house, they drove home in uncharacteristic chatter. Jonathan was the only one speaking, humming along to the radio. Will was exhausted beyond performative small talk; the type that had to be done between two best friends when a third party was present. Mike was great at just sitting with Will in silence, but Jonathan didn’t know that. Instead, the three of them passed around quiet jokes and laughter, answering questions about their friends for Jonathan’s upkeep of information.

Once they got in the house, Jonathan let them wander off into Will’s room as he started pulling pots out of the kitchen cabinets. He wouldn’t bother or pester them about any summer work, either. They would be left alone in their own coupled silence.

Mike was sitting cross-legged on Will’s floor, twisting one of Will's crayons between his fingers. Will needed new ones but he felt funny asking for them as a near-freshman in high school. He liked the glide of wax on paper compared to the scrape of colored pencils. Well, that and the fact he ruined half of his crayons the year prior making a full map of Hawkins in a fugue state and only had two crayons able to be used normally.

“You had doctor stuff today, right?”

Will was digging under his bed for his emptier sketch book. “Yeah. Therapy.  Doctor  doctor stuff was two weeks ago.”

“How was it?” Mike let his hand still and rest in his lap. “Like, what do you do in therapy? Just start talking?”

“Yeah, but it’s more than that. You have to think about stuff too. Doctors ask you questions, sometimes.” Will pulled back and drug his old drawing supplies along the carpet. He sat back on his heels and was able to see Mike over the top of the bed. He didn’t know Will was looking. “You have to have answers.”

“What do they ask about?” Mike kept looking at his hands, unaware of Will. “Upside down stuff?”

“Sometimes.” Will shuffled back around to Mike's side of the bed. He could feel the tiniest bit of rug burn starting. “She asked me about my dad today.”

Mike looked up, almost immediately. “Can she do that?”

“Why can’t she?” Will popped the lid on the retired Tupperware, now his art bin. “I talked about it.”

“I thought you didn’t like to.” Will had never said those words which meant Mike had gathered it from just observing him. “Did you… like talking about it?”

“Not really.” Will laughed. He found a few extra crayons, but of all the wrong colors. “She had this big speech afterward about learned helplessness that I… really didn’t like.” Will tried to keep laughing.

Mike put the crayon back in the bin. “Are you okay, Will?”

“Yeah. It’s just… the same old stuff.” Will shrugged. “Sometimes it just bothers me more than other days.”

Mike bit the inside of his cheek, picking at his words carefully. “You never talk about your dad, Will.”

“Why would I?”

“Because it bothers you. You can talk about anything you want-- I… I would listen.”

“You don’t have to listen to it just because it happened to me, you know. My therapist says you don’t have to experience things with me for them to be real.”

“But I want to know.” Mike looked insulted, almost crushed and collapsed as he sat back on his hands. “That’s your dad,” he said. “And you’re my friend.”

They sat in silence for a while. Mike went back to studying a new crayon, picking at the wrapper. Will felt something forming in his throat. A bubble that was hot, thick and sticky. Not vomit, but not impending tears either.

“I don’t get why he left.” Will said. “I don’t know what happened to our family.”

“Nothing happened. Maybe he just… wasn’t good at being your dad anymore.”

“But then why? What did I do?” Will didn’t want to ask Mike, make him feel responsible for answering, but Will was desperate to ask the universe again.

“Nothing.” Mike said. “I just think he…”

“He what? My dad got tired of me? Didn’t want to raise me?”

“Maybe he actually learned how to take a hint and knew he wasn’t good enough for you and Jonathan-- or your mom.” Mike wanted to be hopeful, to be positive, so badly. He ached, his smile tight and weak. He didn't have the answers, and who was Will to put him in the position to come up with them.

“So he gave up.” Will said.

“That’s not what I meant--”

“I know. I know… That’s just how it feels.” Will shrugged. He smiled at Mike, accepting his help and his warmth. It hurt knowing that Mike was wrong, but still. Will could always pretend a little longer. Anything for Mike.

“Hey! You monsters hungry?” Steve clapped his hands together before gently tapping the door. “Jonathan’s got dinner on the table.”

The door was open. Steve didn’t have to knock. He wanted to, just to prove he wasn’t  too  comfortable, but he also knew Mike was over. And knocking would announce his entrance rather than letting it just be something that just  was  . Rather than being  cool .

Awkwardly and with a lot of weird, throat-clearing fanfare, Steve opened the Byers’s front door and poked his head inside. Jonathan called him in from the kitchen without even needing to say hello, or being surprised by his walking in:  In here, Steve! Dinner’s almost done .

Steve walked through the living room carefully, as if he’d disturb it. There was a tape playing softly-- some band Steve’s never heard of, but didn’t hate. He’d grown to like the way that every song played in the Byers house was always moody and melancholy. The music was always the opposite of how he felt stepping into the kitchen.

Jonathan was at the stove, stirring a pot of something that smelled delicious. He had what looked to be tomato sauce stains on the front of his shirt-- where he wrapped his hand up to open the sauce jar. Steve was able to hide his smile as he shouldered off his uniform jacket and toed off his shoes, claiming a chair at the kitchen table.

“How was work?” Jonathan didn’t stop stirring. He moved like the stove was turned all the way up and he was afraid of burning the food. He spoke that way too.

“It was fine. Not a whole lot.” Steve didn’t want to have anything seem bigger than whatever upset Jonathan-- and seemed to still be upsetting him now. “How was your day?”

“Fine. Will and Mike are in the other room.” He was checking things off his list. Steve stepped up to Jonathan and stood even with him at the stove. He was making one-pot pasta. It really did smell fantastic. Steve was so hungry, even after his lunch.

“How was… the other things in your day? Develop any good pictures?” Steve covered how stupid he sounded by placing his hand on Jonathan’s lower back.

Jonathan stopped stirring and looked at him. Steve tried to keep cool, tried not to show his motives-- his attempt to calm something he couldn’t believe he’d missed spinning out of control, even if he didn’t know what it was. “Nancy walked into the dark room today-- she’s actually the one who gave me the muffin-- and she exposed the photos to light too early. So no, actually.”

Steve really was a bad boyfriend. Even when he wasn’t one yet-- or at all.

“Okay… how was. Everything else?”

“You don’t have to ask about my day, Steve. It’s okay.” Jonathan sighed and spoke evenly. “I’m just a little tired. Really. We don’t have to do the whole…  thing .”

The whole thing where Steve was explicit about how much he really cared about Jonathan and admitted he was sincerely and terrifyingly in love with Jonathan.

“I was asking because I was curious. Not out of obligation.” Steve clarified. His hand slid to rest on Jonathan’s hip. He moved closer, lips aiming to place a commitment-less kiss on his cheek.

“Steve! I said to keep it  cool .” Jonathan ducked back, placing a hand on Steve’s chest. “I don’t want Will to see us.”

“Your brother?” Steve was surprised; of all people Jonathan explicitly wanted to hide from Will seemed kind and forgiving-- not that there was anything  to  forgive, but it was something Steve often checked for. Steve was sure that one of Dustin’s friends would be… like Steve. Or like Jonathan-- maybe. All of them seemed prepared to deal with any of their friends suddenly being different. Far more prepared than Steve ever was.

“Yes. My brother.” Jonathan snapped, banging the spoon against the edge of the pot. “I don’t want him to learn I’m not dating Nancy but  instead  seeing her ex-boyfriend in the same day.” he whispered.

“Wait, what? He thinks you’re with Nancy?” Steve wasn’t sure where they went wrong. They were trying to  obscure  the truth, not lead everyone to a different reality. “D-Do you think Mike does too?”

“I don’t know! I didn’t want to ask and seem weird.” Jonathan sighed again. He sounded tense again. “I told Will I’d tell him if I was seeing anyone… And he promised me the same.”

Steve knew not to press the obvious question-- well   are  you seeing someone, Jonathan?  -- but also didn’t want to touch the obvious implication that Will  needed  to share a secret with Jonathan. Instead, he placed his hands into his pockets and turned to lean against the counter.

“Dinner smells really good, Byers.” There was another name that began with “B” that Steve wasn’t allowed to use, but always wanted to. Byers Byers Byers. Baby baby baby. “Thank you, again, for cooking for me-- for us.”

“You think I’m going to let you starve?” His stirring slowed; the stove cooled down. He nudged Steve’s arm with the spoon. “You coming home late and trying to cook? You mean half-drinking a beer and falling asleep face down on your bed in your uniform, half unbuttoned.”

“You picture that often, Byers?” Steve lifted an eyebrow. “Hm?”

“Don’t flatter yourself.” Jonathan’s lips quirked into a smile again. “But, if you’d like a beer, I think there’s one in the fridge. No one in the house is going to touch it.”

“I can go ask Will if he wants it.”

“Shut up-- do you want it or not?”

“No.” Steve didn’t like drinking when they were together. He’d never really heard the full story about where Mr. Byers went, but he had a father of his own to make those blank spaces fill pretty fast. “But thanks. Don’t want the habit of needing a beer to forget how boring my job is.”

“I thought you liked your job?” Jonathan took a piece of pasta out of the pot and held it out for Steve to test.

He chewed and answered. “I do! It’s nice to have normal hours-- and I’m happy to help have replacements as Flo gets ready to retire but… I don’t know. Sometimes it feels  boring .”

“Would you rather be chasing down a four-legged monster without a face?” Jonathan let out a bubble of genuine laughter, playfully glaring at Steve.

“Frankly, yes! At least we’d all have something to do. I feel like I don’t see everyone anymore.”

“Then throw a party. Don’t wish for anything bad to happen.” Jonathan said firmly. “Let the record show my brother is a very strange magnet for all this… weird shit.”

“You’re right, I’m sorry.” Steve said solemnly. He put his hand on Jonathan’s forearm. “I wish we were all safely doing something exciting. It felt nice to be needed, even if no one knew it was us.”

Jonathan put the spoon down on the counter and pivoted to be looking only at Steve. There was something resting just on the tip of his tongue, just under the surface of their conversation. It would’ve been a digression-- Steve could tell by Jonathan’s tense and furrowed brow-- but he would’ve listened.

“Jonathan?” Steve squeezed his arm, lifting his eyebrows. “What is it?”

“I--” He clenched his jaw, trying to swallow his words. “I think--” Steve knew there was no end to Jonathan’s sentence; merely starting it meant there was trust between them. A careful admission through omission. Steve knew Jonathan was looking at his shoes and wouldn’t be seen as he took in the secret flinches of Jonathan’s face. The crinkle by his left eye, the twitch of his mouth, double blinking--

They both jumped apart as the phone started ringing, practically shaking on the wall. Jonathan stepped away from Steve and left everything unsaid. Again.

Jonathan tucked the phone between his ear and shoulder as he turned to lean against the wall.

“Hello? This is--” His face changed sharply, his eyebrows furrowing. “I told you to stop bothering us. You’re lucky she’s not here to pick up the phone-- I don’t  care !” Jonathan cleared his throat and looked at Steve in a flash of uncertainty and anxiety. “I have the police here right now and if you don’t stop calling me I will send them to your house-- it’s not a threat if you’re the one bothering us. Stop. Calling.” He slammed the phone down and braced his weight against the wall with his other hand.

“Am I considered ‘the police’ now?” Steve said lightly. It was his way of letting Jonathan know he was listening, but not asking direct questions. “I’m not even allowed to have a badge.”

“It counts.” Jonathan said, letting his arms fall down by his sides. Steve stepped over and kept stirring dinner.

“Who was that?”

“No one. Can you go get the boys in the other room? Dinner’s ready.” Jonathan pushed Steve aside to hunch over the stove again.

“Sure.” Steve nodded, knowing he wasn’t seen. “Hey! You monsters hungry? Jonathan’s got dinner on the table.”

Dinner felt weird.

Will couldn’t help but feel like he and Mike had gotten into a fight. Talking about his dad made anything feel sticky, feel like it was violent or volatile. A second from snapping or tearing off, bouncing around the walls and echoing in Will's body. A small conversation between friends-- actually a little  understanding  between  best  friends-- felt like it had been a screaming match, all because it was cut off. There was no apology from Will. He didn't have the chance to tie it all up with an  I’m sorry, I’m really sorry, forget I said anything.

His plea sat heavy on his tongue as he talked to Steve-- who had arrived without notice-- and let Mike make him laugh so hard he nearly shot water out his nose. Will let it all happen under the tremor, the ache, of an apology. And maybe, if he was the best brother and friend he should’ve been, no problems or therapy, it would be enough of an apology.

He wasn't hungry and only ate half his serving of pasta, even though it was usually his favorite of Jonathan's recipes. He did apologize for that though, and it felt right to say aloud. Even if it was misdirected and no one heard it.

I'm sorry. I'm sorry I'm so so sorry. Please come back--

Mike wasn’t tired, Will knew, but he still wanted to go to bed right after their horror movie ended. It was clear Mike hadn't been paying attention to the movie; the entire plot was that dreams were a new horror-scape for monsters to get teenagers. It wasn't too scary to Will; it just felt familiar. The villain looked different, more human, but Will knew what it felt like to dream while wide awake. To watch and be unable to do anything but scratch at the surface--

Convincing Will to get ready for bed, Mike said they’d have all day in the morning. He said that maybe he could convince his mom to let him stay over again if they don’t get all their fun in. Will knew Mike's mom probably would, if only because she felt bad for Will. But he would take the pity. A sleepover wasn't the worst thing to get from pity.

Will could still hear Mike fidgeting in his sleeping bag. He was rubbing his feet together like a cricket and twisting his wristwatch. The plastic scratched the sheer material of his sleeping bag rhythmically: back and forth. back and forth. backandforthbackandforth. It was like Mike was counting the ticks of his silent digital watch. Will began to play with his own watch, keeping it on in bed only because he'd noticed Mike hadn't removed it when they were brushing their teeth that night; apparently the watch was too good to part with.

Time though, was something Will wished he could separate himself from. He could hear the seconds scraping by now. Every moment he kept his friend awake and bored because Will was too weak or (rather and) too  everything  to stay up late again.

Therapy hadn’t even been that bad. Not really. Maybe it could be exhausting but it didn’t count because Will sat in the same spot for an hour. It wasn’t real work. It shouldn’t have counted. Will should’ve been able to hang out with his friend until sunrise, getting in trouble with his mom for being up so late. He should’ve still been a stupid, carefree kid, not a by-gone troubled teenager.

Maybe his dad had seen that from the beginning. Will's dad was always gambling, betting on baseball games he had these incredible "feelings" on. Sometimes he was wrong, but when he was right it was an amazing prediction; having the foresight no one else had. And maybe that was what it was, leaving them when he did. Maybe he saw Will wouldn’t be the second son he wanted after all. Maybe he knew of all the damage that would be done to him, the damage he would cause. Probably saw it from miles-- years-- away. And he left without a single warning to any of it.

What if his father had known? Could've known where he was when he came back into town two years ago? Not gone forever just in the lights. Just out of reach, just through the wall, Dad. What if he had known, been able to see, able to know, but wanted to leave Will Down there being possessed and enveloped and consumed and--

Will felt a chill scurry down his back. The feeling almost had legs. Too many. He felt ice cold, his body going blank-- not numb, but  blank -- for a second. He couldn’t feel his fingers, but could still feel every inch of his body, suddenly pulsing and seizing.

"Will?" Mike asked, sitting up. He gripped the end of the bed and pulled his face closer to Will's. He squinted in the darkness, feeling for Will’s hand. Will couldn’t answer, his jaw tense and breath rattling out of him. "Will, what’s wrong?"

After a (thankfully) non-awkward dinner, Steve and Jonathan washed all the dishes and let the boys watch whatever movie they wanted. Steve didn’t pay attention to what tape he put in the VRC. He was too busy thinking about the hands hidden in the warm soapy water in the kitchen sink. Neither Mike nor Will seemed too bothered by the  disgusting  amount of blood or the scary blade man on the TV. He felt no regret letting them go to bed right after the credits rolled. Jonathan had looked exhausted after putting the last dish away, and dozed off during the climax of the movie-- even slept through the high-pitched screaming.

They waited for the sound of Will’s door closing over before they got into bed.

Jonathan flopped onto his back, a pillow resting between his chest and crossed arms. Steve laid on his side, bracing his weight on his elbow. He poked at Jonathan's furrowed eyebrow lightly.

"What's the problem, Byers?"

"Nothing."

"You are not a really great liar, you do know that right?" That and Steve could still hear Robin's blasé recounting of Jonathan's distress.  Yeah. Crying, sniffling, snot-- the whole nine, man.

Jonathan sighed and turned to look at Steve. He hated being called out. "It's about Will."

"What's wrong with Will? He seemed alright at dinner."

"Yeah, but," Another sigh. "Steve, I think my brother’s gay."

Steve's first response was swallowed and he nodded. "Okay. Okay. And, um, what's the issue with that?" He adjusted himself on the bed, hoping there was more subtlety in that.

"I can't talk to him about it. I mean," Jonathan smiled and reached to touch his face. "This is a very different thing than being fourteen and confused."

"Who says he's confused?"

"I don't mean with himself-- the rest of the world is so confusing, Steve. You see the news... I can't talk to him. I didn't grow up like that. And being with you is... Different. We dated girls before. Will... I don't know. I think he knows already."

"You think he's got feelings for--"

"Oh absolutely." Jonathan nodded, closing his eyes. "Oh, I'm so glad it's not just me who sees it."

"Hopefully Wheeler does too."

"Hey, keep your voice down, he's only a few rooms over ."

"Sorry. Sorry. Me and my big mouth " Steve rested his head on Jonathan's shoulder. "Shut me up, maybe."

"Not until my mom gets back." Jonathan said, rolling up onto his side too. "If I catch her when she comes in the door, she won't come into my room to say good night. I can't have you distracting me until then."

"Your mom is on a date. She's an adult and so are you." Steve kissed Jonathan's shoulder. "You are a working man who just finished a long day at work-- I think you can cuddle up with your boyf--" Steve choked on his own stupidity, feeling his face go red and charisma die on impact. "With me."

"I will. Once my mom is back." Jonathan kissed Steve, as if a parting promise. Only to backtrack on his words immediately. He tucked Steve’s hair back behind his ear, his hands trying not to hold his face. “No--  no . Steve, not until my mom gets back.”

“I can keep an ear out--” As Steve spoke, the power in his bedside lamp dimmed. The power hummed quietly before flickering back up. Jonathan tensed and pushed himself up in bed.

“Did you see that?”

“Yeah, it was just the light, Byers. It’s windy out tonight, maybe a tree brushed a powerline.” Steve pushed Jonathan back down to his pillow-- and back into his own skin again. “It’s  nothing  . What if I turn out the light? Your mom won’t even  see  us in here.”

“No. No, I have to wait for her.”

“What if she doesn’t come back?”

“What!” Jonathan jerked upright again.

“I  meant  what if she’s at Hopper’s or something?” Steve shrugged. “She’s an adult.”

“Steve, that’s my  mom .” Jonathan hissed, swatting at the hand resting on his shoulder.

“I  meant  because she drove there on her own. If she had some wine, maybe she stayed somewhere and is being a smart, responsible parent.” Steve soothed. “Something you don’t have to be right now. You’re not Will’s parent and you aren’t your own. Lay down, will you?”

Jonathan was reluctant, but let Steve ease him back down again. He pulled the pillow tighter to his chest and sighed, his crossed arms sinking deeper. Steve laid down beside him, nose gently touching the end of his shoulder. As he breathed, his short exhales tickled Jonathan’s skin and got him giggling. It was Steve’s secret trick; something that always worked because Jonathan didn’t know it was a pattern-- didn’t know he was ticklish.

“Sorry I was weird today.” Jonathan said suddenly. He wasn’t even grinning.

“What?” They didn’t apologize. There was no need. “You’re worried about stuff-- it’s okay.”

“No, I like our dinners. And I was so uptight. I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

“Okay.” Steve didn’t know what to do with the sentiment. “Apology accepted?”

Jonathan sighed again, blowing it out slowly between his pressed lips. “Lonnie called today.”

“L- your  dad ? Is that who was on the phone?” Steve wasn’t sure what came over him-- or his body-- as he placed an arm over Jonathan’s waist and pulled them together. There was something unspokenly intimate talking about abusive fathers while being nearly sutured together in bed, but Steve pretended he was just having problems hearing Jonathan correctly.

“Yeah.” Jonathan turned, his nose brushing Steve’s. “Said he wants custody of Will. He doesn’t trust Mom, he said.”

“How is he-- He can’t do that.”

“He’s going to try. I don't know where it came from. He still thinks he can win a case because the news says Will just  disappeared into the woods . Like he ran away from us or something.”

“Everyone knows that’s not true.”

“A court might not.” Jonathan sighed, ducking his head down. Steve resisted lifting his chin to hook it over Jonathan’s head, nestling him into his neck. He laid still, listening to his breathing and the gentle creaking of the house--

Jonathan's door was thrown open, both men sitting up quickly, ready to defend themselves and their actions. It was Mike, in his pajamas with his hair sticking out in wild curls. Will stood just behind him in the hallway looking far more awake. Stilted and untousled.

"Mike?"

"Jonathan, quick!"

"What is it?" Jonathan swung his legs around and motioned both boys to come in. "Will?" Mike pushed him into the center of the door frame, although he remained in the hallway, in the light. Will’s hand grabbed at the back of his neck. His face was blank and his eyes were distant.

"Something's wrong." Will said slowly, blinking to focus. "I feel him."

"Feel who?" Jonathan kneeled in front of Will, holding his shoulders. "Feel who, Will?"

"Dad."

[dirtychocolatechai]

meet-cute | b.b.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Warning(s): fluff, awkward Bucky, vet appointment stuff, Alpine Request: Babes if you're lowkey taking requests can I lowkey make one? 👉🏼👈🏼🥺💕 something flirty and cute and maybe a lil spicy with Bucky and vet!reader where something's going on with Alpine? Not self indulgent at all 😻💖 Notes: This was the first thing I’ve written in months and it felt damn good. Funny story, I actually almost went to school to be a vet tech + shadowed a vet for two weeks and got to see some wickedly cool things.

This was a bit self-indulgent on my part because I had a cat who passed away some years ago because of struvite stones and I wished he had a happier ending like Alpine so I thought why not 🤷‍♀️💖

Taglist is open

(gif from google)

There’s nothing Bucky hates more than the stringent smell of industrial cleaners and clinical white walls - too many associations and shades of memory long laid to rest - except for when something’s going on with Alpine. The Turkish Angora was fine up until a few days ago when he started to hide away and sleep all day.

That wasn’t too concerning at first...

But then came the pained little noises, the frantic running back and forth from the litter box, the excessive grooming. The pit that started forming low in his belly grew, his instincts screaming at him that something was wrong, very wrong, with his little buddy. 

Bucky wasn’t about to fuck around and set up an appointment with the first vet office he could find that had a same-day opening. And now he’s trying not to fall apart at the seams while he waits for the docs to do their magic and tell him what the hell’s going on with his cat and what he has to do to fix it.

The vet tech collected Alpine a bit ago and every minute stretches into years, the cat’s pitiful meow echoing in his ears and those betrayed eyes burned onto the backs of his eyelids.

I know, Bub, I’m sorry but they gotta figure out what’s going on. It’ll be okay, they’ll take care of you. 

His ass went numb from the plastic chair ages ago, his leg jiggling up and down at a rapid pace as he chews on his thumbnail and waits.

And waits.

And waits.

God, he knows these things take time but he’d rather be back at home, curled up on the couch with Alpine pigging out on breakfast food and watching space documentaries. 

How much longer-

“Alright, Mr. Barnes?”

The heavy door swings open with a click, a kind, professional voice preceding a pair of sensible shoes as the vet steps into the room with a clipboard cradled against her chest. His eyes snap up, skipping over her completely to look at the tech holding his cat who looks absolutely miserable. 

She introduces herself but he’s not paying attention. He’s not meaning to be rude but all his focus narrows in on that white little face, the knot in his chest unfurling at the little mew.

He smiles, his eyes crinkling around the edges as he breathes, “Hey there, Little Buddy.” 

The vet doesn’t push, in fact, she seems a little enamored with how much he melts at the sight of his pet. Her own lips quirk up into a soft smile while she stands off to the side patiently as Alpine’s set down on the metal table.

Bucky gets in a few good scritches under his chin, the beginnings of a purr just starting to vibrate his hand when the vet clears her throat delicately. 

He clears his throat, heat burrowing into the apples of his cheeks. “Shi - uh, ‘m sorry.” A hand scrubs over the back of his neck. “I’m just - uh - y’know...” 

Her laugh trickles down his spine like warm rain, the sound effectively drawing his attention away from the cat rubbing up against his side. He gets his first look at her and oh.

A bare face and a no-nonsense hairstyle greet him, her scrubs and white coat adding to the overall doctor vibe but she’s still breathtaking. The natural beauty in the curves of her face, the slant of her brows, the sparkle of her eyes.

He feels like he got sucker-punched in the chest, his heart giving a sudden throb that has him coughing like an idiot as he scrambles to not look like such a jackass.

“So,” he clears his throat, scratching at the stubble along his jaw, “What’s - what’s wrong with him?” 

Glancing down at Alpine’s chart, she hums and writes a note before glancing back up with a reassuring smile. “Nothing that can’t be managed with a special diet and watching his water intake.”

It’s like the weight of the world disappears from his shoulders, his broad frame practically heaving with his sigh of relief. “Oh thank fucking- ahem, ‘scuse me - thank god.” 

Her chuckle and sly smile have him blushing from the roots of his hair to the collar of his shirt, his stomach squirming in discomfort. Old habits are hard to break, especially ones his momma taught him with a box to the ear.

“You’re allowed to swear, Mr. Barnes,” she says, reaching down to run her fingers through snow-white fur. “We’re all adults here.” 

“No, no, I know...” 

“Hm, anyway, his blood work came back and everything looks fine which is a good thing.” 

And it’s back to business like that, any hint of personality hidden behind cool professionalism that Bucky thinks even Tasha would admire. Except for the playful gleam in her eyes as she sneaks peeks at him while going over everything they did and what they found. 

“Struvite crystals are quite common in cats at low levels, especially males because their tract is longer and narrower.” She pauses, flipping to a new page. “Depending on the severity, they can clump together in the urinary tract and actually form stones. That’s where the true problem lies because get one large enough, and it can cause a blockage.”

He’s listening with rapt attention, soaking in the knowledge she’s imparting to him all the while, petting Alpine who keeps nuzzling him and making little sounds. Honestly, he could listen to her talk for hours even if he didn’t understand a goddamn thing. 

She’s so animated when she speaks, holds eye contact and makes sure he understands everything without making him feel like an idiot. He’s had so many doctors who talked at him rather than with him, staring through him without seeing, more interested in the paycheck rather than their patients.

But not her, she cares.

Deeply.

He can see it all over her face and it’s utterly enchanting. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t a little enamored, charmed.

Turning the tablet towards him, she shifts closer and a waft of whatever perfume she’s wearing tickles his nose as she explains what the x-ray of Alpine’s abdomen found.

“These are the stones but thankfully they’re relatively small,” she points to several hazy white ovals starkly visible on the radiograph, “We caught them in time before they became a really big problem.” 

Shit, she smells so good...

 “Now, we’ll send you home with a special diet and see how he does. Also, make sure to up his fluid intake as much as you can. The food can take several months to start dissolving the crystals so we’ll have to do everything we can to help. Sound good?”

Bucky hasn’t pulled his eyes away from her face once this entire time, and how fucking creepy is that?

Quickly looking down at Alpine, embarrassment gnawing at his belly, he nods and wishes for the first time since he cut his hair that he hadn’t so he’d at least have a passing chance at hiding the blush burning its way across his face. 

“Yeah,” he says, picking up the ball of white fluff to hold against his chest, a makeshift shield. “Is there anything else I should do?” 

“No.” She smiles, writing another note and tapping away at the tablet next to her. “I do want to see him again in about a month for a check-up.”

Fuck, he doesn’t want to leave so soon.

The irony isn’t lost on him either.

How does he make this last longer? What can he do? If Sam was here right now, he’d be kicking him in the ass and bitching at him to ask for her number already, Ice Pick.

The clack of the chart being set down rings through the room, bouncing off the walls and sounding so fucking final that he starts to panic. 

Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit. 

She’s already halfway to the door when she asks, “Do you have any questions?”

The word vomit spring from him, unbidden and sudden without any thought, more forward than he’s been with a woman in years.

“Can I have your number?”

As soon as the question leaves his lips, he curses, cringes and wishes he could snatch the very words from the air itself.

Great, I just hit on my vet.

No amount of backpedaling can salvage this but goddamn it if Bucky doesn’t try, stuttering out some half-assed excuse about wanting it just in case he thinks of something later.

When he glances up, he wishes he hadn’t. The vet tech is in near tears in the corner, biting her lips so hard he wouldn’t be surprised if they started to bleed.

But it’s the absolute surprised bafflement on the woman he just inappropriately hit on that does him in, makes him about ready to burn all forms of identification and run for the hills. 

Her brows nearly reach her hairline, her mouth slack, eyes startled. She gets ahold of herself before he does, and he barely stops himself from slapping a hand over his face.

Right when he’s thinking there’s no way he’s going to be able to show his face in the office again, her expression softens with gentle amusement and her lips twitch. 

Struck dumb, he can only watch as she writes something down on a slip of paper before handing it over to him. He barely believes the string of numbers and the cheeky little call me anytime :).

The wink she sends his way is there and gone, so fast he almost believes he imagined it. 

“For emergencies only,” she says, slyly. “Of course.”

“Of course,” he agrees, almost tripping over the cat carrier as he hurries to stuff Alpine back in. “Of course, thank you. I...appreciate it.” 

“Anytime, Mr. Barnes.” 

Bucky leaves the room in a stupor, the world sharply shifted to the left as he heads to the front desk to make the follow-up appointment, but not before hearing the whispered, “Girl, you’re lucky. He’s fine!” and the “He is, isn’t he?”. 

[dovechim]

blessed be the fruit 01 (m)

➾ 3.6k, taehyung x reader, future OT7

➾ loosely based off The Handmaid’s Tale. In the New World Order that is Gilead, your life depends on your ability to bring a new one into existence. 

➾ warnings: unprotected sex, mentions of infertility, pregnancy, mentions of dubcon

➾ a/n: I had serious hesitation and doubts about this. but after a three month break and looking at it from a distance, I still want to go ahead with this AU because I want to draw attention to the themes of reclaiming agency & identity whilst under oppression. So I hope that you could get the message I’m trying to convey rather than focus on the noncon indubitably present in this AU. 

I'm saying this to clearly outline my intentions, for I do not condone rape or non-consensual sex whatsoever. 

that being said, I have plans to turn this into an ot7 series fic, but here is a little starter just to kind of test the waters a little :-) if you’re here, I've already warned you about what you’re signing up for, so please skip this if uncomfortable and refrain from sharing any malicious thoughts with me.

Crimson is the colour that denotes life. But these days, only the rare few have the privilege to don that colour; the deep red hue of the cloak that is meant to simultaneously draw attention to, and also hide your figure.

Handmaids are to be seen and not heard. They are to speak only when spoken to. The white wings that adorn either side of your head keep your gaze lowered reverently at all times. Meek and subdued, but always watching, waiting.

The supermarket is quiet and orderly as you stroll through the aisles with your partner close by your side. You have never seen more than a glimpse of her face, neither have you heard more than a few words of her voice other than the greetings you exchange when you meet every morning.

Even the task of grocery shopping, which you used to enjoy before the rise of Gilead, has become nothing but a sham. There is no decision to be made. Your purchases are entirely dependent on the coupons given to you by the Wife of your Household. Today, it’s the usual rice and vegetables, with one or two oranges thrown in as a request from the Cook.

“Under His Eye,” you murmur as you pass the other Handmaids and their partners, all doing their shopping with their partners.

You can’t see it with your head lowered, but there are armed guards stationed throughout the grocery store with guns cocked and menacing stares. The Eyes are always watching and listening, and you begin to feel suffocated.

“I believe I have everything I need,” you speak in a lowered voice, turning slightly to your partner, thinking of how to best hurry her along without making it too obvious. “Is there anything else you lack?”

“I too, am done, OfJeon,” your partner replies back, and you have to physically stop yourself from flinching.

Even though it is the proper way to address another Handmaid, you avoid using the names bestowed upon you by their Household’s Commanders. You try your best to not associate yourself with that name, for fear that you might come to forget your own in due time, but it gets more and more difficult as the days go by.

‘Of’ denoting possession, and ‘Jeon’ for your Commander’s last name. Put together, they form your identity, the identity that Gilead has carved out for you as an object.

The moment you forget your real name is the moment you lose yourself.

“Let us depart, OfPark,” you say with tightly clenched lips, grateful for the white wings that hide your bitter expression as you turn toward the exit of the grocery store.

Your basket is heavy with groceries, and the wind whips up your red cloak the moment you step outside. You glance up for a moment to see the gray skies, feel the wind on your cheeks before you dip your head down again, cautious of exposing your face for more than a second.

Here, to blend in is to survive.

“Have you made all the necessary preparation, OfJeon?” Your partner asks as she links her arm through yours, and you begin the slow march home.

You drag your feet slightly, hoping to prolong the walk. Aside from the brief half hour of grocery shopping every day, you hardly get a chance to be outside. To remember what the real world feels like, even though it is changing so quickly every day. You’re too busy trying to memorise the way the wind feels against your cloak that you are caught slightly offguard by OfPark’s question.

“Preparation?” Your voice comes out slightly unsure.

“For the Ceremony, of course,” comes her reply, and you can’t stop yourself from inhaling sharply.

Is it already that time of the month? How could you have lost track?

A lump forms in your throat as you attempt to calm yourself. “Yes, OfPark. Everything is ready.”

You are lying through your teeth, but the thing is, interactions are kept to such a bare minimum that no one knows you well enough to know that you are lying. If today is the day of the Ceremony, it means a visit to the doctor’s this afternoon. Your breath speeds up at the thought of it, palms becoming sweaty.

OfPark comes to a stop outside of your house, and unlinks her arm from yours.

“Blessed be the fruit,” she says by way of farewell.

“May the Lord open,” the automatic response falls from your lips without much thinking.

Then the gates open, and you enter the house quietly, setting your basket on the kitchen counter. You can hear footsteps coming from the main hallway as soon as you take your white bonnet off.

“You’re back, I was just about to send a guard to fetch you.” In her royal blue dress that tapers at her waist and falls nearly to her ankles, the Wife of the Household is always neatly pressed and well put together. Kim Yeri fixes you with an annoyed glare as she brushes her silky blonde hair behind her ear. You haven’t known her by that name in a long while, because like any other woman, she is only to be addressed by her title in society.

“Did you forget your appointment?” She demands, crossing her arms. She has never been outrightly mean to you, yet her manner is far from friendly. But its totally understandable, of course. Which woman would be content knowing her husband was required by law to fuck a baby into someone else?

“No, Madam. The line at the supermarket was-“

“Get in the car. We’re already late.” Yeri is not interested in your excuse as she cuts you off, turning to grab her purse, and her dress flows gracefully behind her slim figure as she walks to the door.

You barely have time to put your bonnet back on, fixing it so that it is presentable once more before following her outside. Yeri is already in the back seat of the black SUV car, and you climb in beside her. You catch a glimpse of Driver Jung’s eyes in the mirror, but quickly glance away before Yeri can catch you.

Drivers aren’t allowed to have Handmaids of their own. Instead, they live to serve the Household of their Commanders. As the car pulls smoothly out of the front gate, you begin to wonder who Driver Jung was before Gilead. If he had loved ones that he lost. If he too, was slowly starting to forget the person he was back then.

The blacked-out windows of the car don’t allow you to see anything outside. It is a tense journey made in complete silence as you can feel Yeri’s annoyance slowly mounting into a barely withheld fury. It is the same every month. You try to sympathise with her, to put yourself in her shoes as someone who has to accompany the woman her beloved husband is to have sex with to a fertility check-up.

When the car stops, Driver Jung rushes out of his seat to open the door for Yeri first, then he crosses to your side and opens your door. You thank him with a shy nod, careful to keep your eyes fixed on the ground as you follow Yeri into the clinic.

The waiting room has about one or two other Wife-Handmaid pairs.  As you walk in, you catch the eye of one of the Handmaids who is heavily pregnant. Her swollen belly protrudes from her red cloak, and her hands look so small in comparison as she strokes her bump reverently. The Wife sits beside her, a look of pride on her face as if she were the one pregnant.

It is such a rare sight to see a pregnant Handmaid these days. Even though the Handmaids were specially selected because of their fertility, your lack of a baby bump is bearing down on you. Each Handmaid is given three chances at each assignment. Three chances to conceive before they are moved to the next Commander. Three assignments in total before she is sent to the Wastelands.

Lining the walls are portraits of Commanders dressed in black, and their Wives dressed in blue, holding little bundles wrapped in white. The couples are all smiling with joy and pride in their eyes.

The Handmaids are nowhere to be seen in the happy families of three.

You don’t know if you should envy or pity the heavily pregnant Handmaid.

Thankfully, due to Yeri’s- or should you say your Commander’s- high status, you are bumped to the front of the line. The receptionist tells you to enter the doctor’s room, but Yeri waves you on with disinterest.

“I can wait outside here, can’t I? She won’t dare try anything,” she says this last part with cold frown, settling herself down on one of the waiting chairs.

“Of course, Mrs Jeon,” the receptionist says with a pleasant smile, then turns to show you into the doctor’s office.

You read the name on the door before you are shuffled into the white, sterile room.

Dr Kim Taehyung.

Two female assistants help you to take off your red cloak and dress you in the standard white gown. You sit on the chair, legs spread wide into the stirrups. The assistants lower a privacy curtain that conceals your face, leaving your lower half anonymous as you hear the door open, then the doctor’s footsteps.

You don’t even get to see his face before you feel his touch on your knees. Dr Kim Taehyung clears his throat before he moves to the side, dipping his gloved hands into a small dish of what you can only assume to be lubrication. The white privacy curtain is nothing but a thin sheet, so you can still make out his figure as he bustles about. You can even see the slope of his nose as he turns his side profile to you for a second.

It’s not until he speaks that you are jolted out of your thoughts by how deep his voice is. “How are you today?”

“I’m good,” you answer hesitantly, unconsciously crinkling your medical gown in your fist. No one has ever asked how you’re doing.

“That’s great, now let’s have a look, shall we?” You can hear the smile in his voice, and you feel your body relax a little.

He seems to be kind enough, this Dr Kim Taehyung. Much different from the doctor you had on your first visit. Dr Kim Taehyung has his bedside manner down pat, and even though you can’t see his face, he makes you feel a little bit less tense. His voice soothes you as he talks, saying random things about the weather as he spreads your legs.

Dr Kim Taehyung positions himself in between your thighs, and you feel his gloved hands dangerously close to the apex of them. “So, it says here on your chart that tonight is Ceremony night for you.”

“Yes,” you swallow hard at the reminder. “It is.”

“And how are the Jeons treating you? Everything okay at home?” You can feel him spread your lips with his fingers, starting to poke and prod around as you close your eyes.

“Yes. They treat me very well,” you answer.

He must have caught the monotony of your voice, because his fingers pause.

“You know, you can talk to me. If there’s anything you need.” His concerned voice is like a beacon of light, but your eyes dart around the room cautiously.

You think about the millions of things that you could tell him. How unfair it is to be reduced to a walking womb, and yet, how desperate you are, knowing that this is your third month at the Jeon’s household, and if it doesn’t work…

You swallow all of these thoughts with your fists clenched. You can never let your guard down. He might be one of the Eyes, pretending to be kind so that you might let slip a blasphemous comment about your Commander. There’s no way you’ll incriminate yourself like that, so you just keep your mouth shut. After a while, he goes back to examining you.

“… Alright then,” Dr Kim Taehyung says in a resigned tone. “Let me just check you over and make sure everything is good for tonight. This might feel a little uncomfortable, but just relax for me alright?”

You can’t help but tense up, ironically, at his instruction. But then you feel the warmth of one of his ungloved hands on your thigh, and as he bids you to relax again, he slides his fingers into you, and you can feel his fingers, thick and solid. Your thighs twitch, coming into contact with his hips that are in between them, and he lets out a gentle laugh.

“It’s okay… just a little more.”

Then, he withdraws his fingers slowly, and you let out a breath of relief. It didn’t feel bad, definitely not like the first visit where you felt violated. Dr Kim Taehyung’s gentle and respectful manner is… almost pleasant. You’ve long forgotten what it’s like to be treated like a human being, and not just an object.

“Looks like everything’s in shape, you’re due to ovulate these few days,” he declares, taking off his rubber gloves and tossing them in the bin. “Not that it matters, anyway. Jeon’s probably sterile. Hell, all of the Commanders are sterile.”

You freeze at the sound of that blasphemous curse word. But more importantly, you have to make sure you heard correctly.

“Wh-what do you mean?” You watch his shadow behind the sheet as he ticks a few things on your chart.

In this society, ‘sterile’ is a forbidden word. There is no such thing as a sterile man. There are only women who are fruitful, and women who are barren. But you know better than to subscribe to such damning ideology.

“Darling. I’ve seen so many top Commanders’ Handmaids in this room. In and out, month after month they come back and their Wives ask me why they aren’t pregnant yet.” He places a hand on your knee again, and that human contact makes you realise how much you crave the warmth of another person.

At the same time, his words awaken the hollow desperation in your chest. If… if Jeon is really sterile, that means no matter how many times you try, you won’t get pregnant. If all the Commanders are really sterile, then no matter how many assignments you get…

“It’s your third month here, isn’t it?” His kind voice accompanies the gentle stroke of his thumb on your knee.

Before you can answer, he steps away from you, walking to the door and double checking that it’s locked. Then, he’s between your legs again, and this time, his ungloved hands are caressing the top of your thighs. You can feel his hips pressing against you insistently.

“I can help you,” he says in a low whisper. “It’s your last chance.”

Your mind is in a fog. It’s hard to think clearly when you are craving his touch on your body, and the way in which he wraps your legs around his waist so delicately has you wanting to give in. Let this be a form of rebellion. An act of reclaiming your body and your agency, giving it to a man who treats you like a human being, and more importantly, deciding who you give it to. So that when Jeon performs the Ceremony with you tonight, no one but you will have the secret pleasure of knowing that someone else was here before him.

And if you do get pregnant, you will have the last laugh as you watch Jeon raise a baby that isn’t even his to begin with.

How’s that for rebelling? It’s no longer just about getting pregnant.

“I’ve helped many other Handmaids before,” Dr Kim Taehyung continues furtively. “They were all on their third Assignments. I saved them from the Wastelands.”

You don’t need any more convincing. You reach out and pull the thin privacy sheet aside, finally revealing Dr Kim Taehyung’s face. He looks taken aback at your bold actions.

“Do it, Doctor,” you fix your eyes on him with determination. “Get me pregnant.”

Dr Kim Taehyung looks as if he wasn’t expecting you to say yes to him, and delight slowly spreads across his face. But he can’t help himself from bringing one of his hands to your face, brushing your cheek and admiring your silent, resilient beauty.

“U-um, okay. He-here goes,” he fumbles with his dress pants, and the confidence from minutes ago is nowhere to be found. It occurs to you that he might have been fibbing about helping the other Handmaids before you, but it doesn’t matter. It’s no longer just about getting pregnant, anyway.

Thanks to the lubrication, he slides in easily. You catch a glimpse of him before he does, and a second later you feel his girth acutely. During the Ceremony, the lights are always turned off, so you never have a chance to see what Jeon’s dick looks like. If you were to compare, it feels around the same as Dr Kim’s. Except this time, you are doing this of your own accord.

The squeaking of the chair against the floor is deafeningly loud as he begins to thrust earnestly, and the thrill that you could be caught at any moment makes you feel more alive than you’ve ever been since the rise of Gilead. You can feel him at your cervix as he grips your thighs, and you make sure to wrap them around him tightly.

In an unprecedented move, Dr Kim reaches down to brush his thumb against your clit, and your walls clench around him in response. He swears under his breath as he shifts his position to rest his elbows on either side of you so that he can increase the strength behind his thrusts.

“Sh-shit, you feel so good,” he groans as he sneaks his hand in between your bodies once more to pinch your clit. No one has cared about your pleasure like this in a long while, and you feel your body responding to his ministrations, your orgasm rapidly approaching.

“Ha-harder, Doctor,” you feel his cheek press against your breast. “Cum inside me.”

You swear you can feel him twitch inside you, as he bites his lip hard. You have a hard time holding back your derisive laughter as Dr Kim Taehyung gets more turned on than ever. So this is his kink? This is the perfect job for him. Seeing Handmaids who are more often than not desperate to get pregnant, no matter by whom.

You feel a modicum of power back in the palm of your hand, which is more than you’ve felt in ages. The feeling of having power over someone else as you watch the pleasure take over Dr Kim Taehyung’s expression is addictive. The man is losing himself in between your legs, his fingers digging into the flesh of your thigh. Meanwhile you are the one watching him rut pathetically, straining to reach his end.

“Cum inside me, Doctor,” you say again, squeezing your walls around him and relishing his groan. “I’ll make you cum inside me.”

“Pl-please, call me Taehyung,” he pleads, raising himself up on his elbows to beg for a kiss.

You oblige, watching his desperation slowly take over his entire being. His lips are soft as he kisses you like a man starved, and you wonder who was the last person he kissed like this. Does he kiss all of the Handmaids he impregnates?

The next words you say are perfectly calculated. “Taehyung, I want your baby.”

There’s no reaction other than his hands clenching into tight fists, and his breathing getting harsher and harsher as his cock slams deep into you, and you clench around him one more time, only to feel him fill you up with his cum. The seed that you need to get pregnant and save your own life.

He doesn’t stop thrusting. His cock is still twitching inside you, and you can still feel the cum threaten to leak out. Dr Kim Taehyung lets out a long sigh of contentment as he expertly tilts the chair so that your hips are slightly raised.

When he’s satisfied, he slowly pulls out, eyes glued to the mess in between your legs. Only a little bit of cum is dripping out, and he reaches for a tissue to clean it up. The way he’s looking at you, a little bit too fondly, makes you realise that this is getting a bit too personal for your liking.

“Blessed be the fruit,” you remind him, and the phrase is like magic. You are all reminded of your roles in this society, and the forbidden act which you have both committed.

Dr Kim Taehyung seems to sober up when he hears this, as he tucks himself back into his pants and attempts to straighten his doctor’s coat.

“May the Lord open. You should… um. Stay here for the next ten to fifteen minutes. The nurses will be in to help you get dressed shortly,” he clears his throat as he lets the privacy curtain fall back into place. “And um… good luck.”

He leaves the room hurriedly, and you close your eyes, squeezing your thighs together and feeling the warmth that his cum leaves behind, feeling like your body is finally yours again.

You don’t know how much time has passed before the nurses come in and help you get dressed, and when you walk out of the room, Yeri makes a pointed remark about how long she had to wait. You follow her without a word to the car, waiting as Driver Jung opens the door for her, then you.

All the while, a secret smile upon your lips as you feel the cum from earlier drip down your inner thigh.

[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!”

[primasveraas-writing]

"Kent v Linebacker" -Ted Lasso

Roy's knee is fucked. This is well known.

His fucking monster child, who he loves, accidentally fucks it up more. Such is life.

Part 2 // Accompanying AU

WORDS: 2631

XXX

Their first son is “built like a linebacker,” according to Ted Lasso. Roy shows his usual disdain at the reference to the wrong type of football, but Keeley wearily agrees- she was, after all, the one who carried then delivered their 10-pound baby.

Most people see their son and suggest rugby instead of football, even as they pile tiny Kent jerseys and footballs onto the new parents. Roy insists he doesn’t give a damn if their child wants to play rugby or football or join the damn chess club, but he also tears up the first time Keeley puts him in a tiny (or maybe just small) Richmond jersey.

Because of the way Roy and Keeley are, they balance each other out. Marriage and parenthood come to them relatively smoothly, save for typical growing pains and bumps in the road. But they figure it out, at least for the most part.

One of the more persistent bumps is Roy’s knee. Because, while he was forced to walk away from playing football, Roy is reluctant to accept other limitations. He’ll run or dance or carry around the baby’s new crib, and then swear and pop his knee back into place as needed. Doctors eventually find this out and inform him that this is, in fact, bad. Roy Kent tells them to fuck off. He doesn’t echo this sentiment when Keeley suggests that they’re right.

Because, as usual, she seems to have a point. It doesn’t always take a miles-long Christmas day walk or a rom-com style sprint to Ted Lasso to fuck up Roy’s knee. Somedays, it’s going down the stairs one too many times. Or standing up long enough to make Keeley a fancy dinner. Or jumping around in the coaches’ box after a Richmond win. So Roy concedes this matter, and anyway, he doesn’t particularly enjoy moving his kneecap around or Phoebe’s and Keeley’s face when he does so.

Roy scales back, reluctantly and unhappily. He does modified yoga with the moms and they suggest stretches to help him. Roy doesn’t push himself nearly as much, and so the pain in his daily life decreases.

Then Roy becomes a father, and then his son becomes a toddler.

Oliver is a fucking ray of sunshine. He’s inherited Keeley’s bubbly personality, something evident from his first dazzling smile and the peals of laughter that soon follow. When he starts to talk, he does so incessantly, and he puts every ounce of his energy into babbling and running literal circles around his parents. Even Keeley- even Ted Lasso, occasional babysitter- struggle to keep up. But Roy and Keeley and the Richmond team do their level best to entertain and supervise him, and it works.

Then, because they’re fucking daft, Roy and Keeley decide they want another fucking monster to turn their lives all upside down.

Oliver is three when they tell him he’s going to be a big brother. He’s overjoyed, then he cries, then he’s comforted, then he’s overjoyed again. Roy is the happiest he’s ever fucking been with his son, and Keeley pregnant, and then life comes along and fucks it all up again.

Father and son are just home from preschool, Oliver restarting his long-winded recap of his day when he sees Keeley. Roy hobbles through the door behind him, grinning at Keeley for half a second. She beams back at him, then returns her attention to their child, brows furrowing as she tries to decipher his somewhat senseless story.

Roy’s standing by Keeley’s side, hand on her shoulder as they listen the best they can. Oliver reaches a part of his tale that’s especially exciting- something about cupcakes and a classmate’s birthday, and he gives a shout, then springs up with his arms spread wide, and-

-forty pounds of force collide with Roy’s bad leg. He hears Keely gasp, which is what registers first, then his vision goes white as pain overtakes him, and he feels himself falling.

He opens his eyes a moment later, and Keeley is crouching at his side awkwardly, the swell of her stomach hindering her. Oliver gives a noise that indicates he’s probably about to cry, and Roy shushes him through a groan.

“Fuck,” Roy says, his voice strained. “I’m okay.”

Keeley purses her lips, which indicates she’s well aware of his lie, but she draws Oliver against her side, rubbing circles into his back as she takes Roy’s hand.

“It hasn’t been this bad before, has it?”

Roy shakes his head. “I think I’m fucked,” he confesses, trying to keep the uncertainty and pain out of his words.

“ER fucked?”

“Fuck no.”

“Can you get up, Roy?” Keeley would sound impatient if not for the way her tone wavers. Roy shifts, babying his leg, and Keeley watches as he winces, cringes, and swears again.

Keeley whispers something to Oliver, and he sniffs loudly before scampering off into the kitchen. His wife stands, unsteady and off-balance, and reaches down to help him. Roy uses only his left leg to rise, trying not to knock Keeley over, and he staggers before grabbing the back of the couch to steady himself. Keeley holds onto his elbow and guides him around so he can sit.

“I’m fucked,” Roy reiterates, and this time, Keeley just nods.

-

In the end, there’s no ER visit- just a few pulled strings to get Roy into the doctor the next day. Rebecca stops by to deliver crutches and a few bottles of painkillers once Keeley realizes that Roy can’t get to the bathroom- or anywhere else, for that matter- on his own. More reluctantly, Ted is called, and he promises to give Oliver the “best darn sleepover since the movie Sleepover.” Roy isn’t particularly keen on Ted being privy to this particular moment of weakness, but Ted leaves with Oliver quickly enough, and Keeley’s pretty sure that even just a few minutes of exposure to Ted is enough to force some positivity into Roy’s outlook, and for that, she’s grateful.

Roy sleeps on the couch that night, as stairs are out of the question. Even if he could manage to struggle up them, he can only imagine coming back down via a painful fall. He’s alone, too, because, despite Keeley’s protests, he’s not about to let his pregnant wife sleep anywhere but a proper bed.

He lies awake long after kissing and texting Keeley goodnight, and he contemplates the quiet of the house and the apparent severity of the situation. The doctor had wanted Roy to come in today, but she didn’t throw a fit when he insisted he could wait. Instead, he’ll see her tomorrow, first thing, and Ted will take his son to school, and Keeley and Roy will both miss work for Roy’s least-favorite type of doctor’s appointment.

-

“You dislocated your kneecap again,” Doctor Patel explains, gesturing to an x-ray of a very fucked up knee. “The first time, you twisted it.” She points to a slightly less fucked up x-ray. “But continually dislocating your knee weakened the ligaments. So, when Oliver collided with you, your ACL and meniscus tore completely.”

“That’s why it hurt so damn much.”

Patel nods, then sighs. “You mentioned chronic pain worsening over time- you did everything right, trying to keep it at bay, but this- along with additional trauma- can worsen a knee injury.”

Roy grunts. He expected as much. The first doctor he saw after his final match had warned of this, along with things like arthritis and all sorts of complications. His main worry was that his football career was over, and there was nothing he could do about that, so any accompanying outcomes seemed unimportant.

He was wrong, apparently.

“It’s not unusual for these injuries to get worse over time. Especially when you’re not gentle with yourself. But, your symptoms are indicative of severe tearing. I’m also worried about nerve damage.”

“So what do we do now?”

Keeley is the one who asks, gripping Roy’s hand. He glances at her, then squeezes her hand.

Patel hesitates. Roy likes this doctor- her knowledge and honesty have been extremely comforting to both him and Keeley over the years. She doesn’t take bullshit, not even Roy’s, and he appreciates that about her.

But it’s unusual for her to hesitate.

“I believe our best option is open knee surgery,” she says, and her eyes soften when Roy’s jaw clenches. “There are other routes we can pursue, but we’re at a point where they may not be as effective.

“What are they?”

“We can do more tests and try an arthroscopic surgery or other minimally invasive options, but-”

Roy tunes her out. He’s the last football player of his generation- he’s seen everyone he played with at the beginning of his career retire, and the various injuries that forced this fate upon his fellow footballers. Open knee surgery is a big fucking deal. Especially since he’s not a fucking grandma.

“It’s a long fucking recovery time,” Roy says finally.

A nod.

“We have a baby due in three months.” This time, Keeley squeezes Roy’s hand.

“If all goes well, you’ll be walking unassisted by then. Enough for midnight diaper changes, so long as you don’t sprint into the nursery.”

“And it’ll work best?”

“I can say with reasonable confidence that your case is severe enough to warrant this surgery, and that the other surgeries aren’t typically successful in similar cases.”

“Fuck. Let’s do it.”

-

They schedule surgery for a few days later, which is a quick turnaround, but it’s enough time for two Richmond matches to take place. The first falls on the day after Roy’s doctor visit, and the second one is the day of the surgery. This gives him pause- Roy’s first and longest love is football, and he’s loath to step away, even for a week. But he thinks of Oliver, hesitant to hug his father when they get home, and Keeley, sneaking glances at him as if expecting him to break when she’s not looking.

Roy trudges- or limps- forward. He stays home for the first Richmond match and tries to ignore Keeley scrolling through Twitter with a worried look on her face. They had debated what would be worse- to miss the match with no explanation, or for Roy to show up on crutches and in obvious pain. In the end, the desire for privacy (and maybe easing Roy’s discomfort) won out, and Keeley and Roy and Oliver watch the match from their living room. Roy and Oliver shout at the TV, and Keeley livetweets, and it’s okay until the post-match conference.

“Coach Lasso! Roy Kent was missing from the coaches’ box tonight. Can you explain why? Has there been a professional change or has something personal occurred?”

Ted holds up a hand, stemming the reporter’s flow of questions. He smiles at her easily, but Roy knows that no matter what Ted says, there’ll be speculation. A nonanswer is still an answer, but they decided as a team to keep the public in the dark as long as possible, to maintain any privacy Roy has.

“Roy and his family are jus’ fine, thank you. As far as I know, Roy hasn’t decided to leave our coaching team, so we’re all good there.” Ted clears his throat, and Roy wonders if his mentor is uncomfortable telling half-truths to the press. “Roy needed some personal time away, but I expect you’ll be seeing him back again shortly. Thanks.”

“Well, that wasn’t complete shit,” Roy muses in near-approval. Keeley hums noncommittally.

“No,” she agrees, pleased. “And I livetweeted the whole thing so nobody thinks one of us is dying.”

“Perfect,” Roy says, satisfied. So long as they don’t get hounded on the way to the hospital. He looks down at his lap, where Oliver is curled against him, fast asleep. Roy moves slightly so that he can wrap his arm around his son, and sighs.

Keeley looks up at them and grins as she takes in the sight. “Look at my boys,” she says softly, and Roy’s heart melts just a little.

-

Surgery goes well, and Roy leaves the hospital the same day. His memories of the event and the hours after are fuzzy, but Keeley informs him that he watched the Richmond match while the anesthetic wore off, and proceeded to shout an absolutely incomprehensible mix of words and swears at the TV. Richmond lost, but it was hard fought, and it’s days later when Keeley confesses to Roy that he actually cried once the final result was clear. Roy would be less concerned by this if he could remember it at all, but at the same time, he’s reassured that his plan of being totally unaffected by major surgery and attending the match in person didn’t pan out.

Roy quickly decides he’s utterly useless on crutches, instead letting Oliver expend his energy by fetching things like water and painkillers and phone chargers for his dad. There’s plenty for him to do; Oliver thrives with given purpose, and under the extra attention Roy has to spare. He hates being unable to carry his son, but he can still cuddle with him, and draw with him, and even though Keeley is burdened with bathing and chasing after Oliver, Roy can still fucking help here and there. Like telling Oliver to eat his broccoli or clean up his shit, because vegetables are fucking important and his son isn’t a slob.

His return to Richmond is less smooth. He doesn’t want anybody’s fucking pity, least of all from the boys on the team, or from Ted Fucking Lasso, but instead of the fearful reactions Roy’s used to, Roy’s treated with a gentleness he absolutely fucking despises. Nobody wants to push back against his heightened grumpiness (a side effect of knee surgery is that it fucking hurts and this makes Roy very unhappy), and Ted somehow feels obligated to hang back with him as he limps up to the field each day. His fellow coach also launches into several tirades about his and Beard’s and his great uncle Roger’s various injuries over the years, and Roy ends his first week back feeling, unfortunately, closer to all three men, including the one he’s never fucking met in the first place.

Keeley’s made sure to officially announce that he’s had surgery, explaining away his absence and all the speculation that went with it. The press will likely hound him anyways, but Roy already has his response planned (“Fuck off!”).

The crowd cheers him during their next match. He hobbles slowly behind the rest of the coaches, using one crutch even though he really should be using both, swearing under his breath at the soft terrain and his shit balance and fucking kneecaps for being so fragile in the first place. Keeley would say all this support is sweet, and he catches a glimpse of her beaming at him from the stands, Oliver bouncing on her lap, and the agony and humiliation dulls.

Richmond plays a great fucking game. It’s not their best match ever, but they win and celebrate accordingly. Roy makes his excuses earlier than usual; he knows he’s put Keeley through the wringer in the past week, and Oliver keeps rubbing his eyes, and there’s nothing more that Roy wants than to read his son a fairytale then cuddle with his wife in bed.

So they go home, and do exactly that.

Roy’s last thought before he drifts off that night, having tucked Oliver into bed and kissed Keeley quite thoroughly, is of how fucking perfect his life is. And, although he echoes that thought many more times, one of the more poignant occurrences is when his daughter is born, and he holds her in his arms for the first time.

Yeah. Pretty fucking perfect.