#the charcoal is much nicer

[faunandfloraas]

He soundproof

[rabbitindisguise]

Unfortunately I found one (1) thing that's putting psychological strain on myself but I'm not gonna like what it is

[midnightorchids]

I love you and your writing. It makes me so happy to read your works!

Imagine Jason having his s/o move in with him. Imagine all the possibilities.

Like arranging the furniture together, showering together, taking turns cooking.

Or taking power naps together. I love me some soft Jason.

Omg stop!!! You’re literally so kind! Thank you for sending all these little scenarios, I always have so much fun writing them. Also, my apologies for getting back to you so late, I hope this little blurb makes up for it, enjoy reading!

Jason stares at the small key in his large calloused hands and then at charcoal door in front of him. This is it, he thinks to himself. He runs his hands through his hair and then shifts his gaze to your face, it’s beaming with excitement. Jason tries to hold back his smile, but finds himself unable to do so. He reaches over to your hand and gives it a gentle squeeze.

He’s waited for this moment for a long time. He’s dreamt of owning a place with you, of days where the both of you will go to sleep together and you’ll still be there in the morning. He’s dreamt of making you breakfast and kissing your forehead before you go to work or school and then have you come right back home… to him.

Jason’s emotional honestly, there’s something so tender and domestic about the idea of building a life together in this apartment.

The apartment, it’s not very big and the walls are an awful shade of grey. The paint is chipping in some places and there’s some obvious water damage. But none of that matters because it’s yours. It’s your home and that thought alone is enough for you and Jason to be happy.

You’re both sitting in the empty kitchen, unpacking your boxes and Jason can imagine spending the rest of his life here with you.

He takes a mental picture of the moment, tucking it deep in his mind and engraving it in his heart. He hasn’t been able to stop smiling since he walked in through the door, he feels content, at peace.

You and Jason spent weeks scavenging through different vintage shops to find the perfect decor and furniture. There were countless trips to Ikea and multiple trips to the mall.

All of it was coming together now.

The thought of saying “our home” instead of “my house” made Jason feel giddy. He finally had a place to call his own with a person who felt like serenity.

Hours go by and you’re still working on getting your new place sorted.

You’re both sprawled out on the living room floor, putting together your new coffee table. There’s screws scattered across the floor and bubble wrap on the couch. There’s music playing on one of your phones as the speaker is still packed away in one of the boxes.

“This is so much fun! It’s like building life size legos,” Jason suddenly exclaims and you stare at him unamused, the hours of working finally catching up to you.

“Shut up Jay! You’re talking too much, I lost my page again,” you reply looking back at the paper manual in your hands, trying to find your page again. Jason looks up at you with a small pout.

“Don’t be mean, you know I’m sensitive,” he tries to say seriously, but the little smile on his face says otherwise. you shuffle over to his side on the floor and ruffle his hair.

“Aw I’m sorry baby, I’ll be nicer,” you say, realizing it might be time to take a break. “Should we postpone building furniture for a bit, I’m starving.” His face lights up and before you know it, he’s already in the kitchen gathering ingredients to make you soup and grilled cheese sandwiches. There’s not much in the fridge, but he’ll make do with what’s there.

You stare at him from across the room and this time, it’s your turn to click a mental photograph of the moment. He looks beautiful in your new kitchen, his hair’s messy, it’s in his eyes and he takes a second to push away the bangs. Then, he continues working away near the stove, humming along to the song playing on your phone. You can’t help, but admire him. You look forward to seeing him like this forever.

You make your way over to the kitchen and take a seat on the island counter, opposite to the stove. Jason tosses the final bit of ingredients in the pot and lets everything simmer. He looks over at you, leaning against the counter. He crosses his large arms against his body, his face soft and relaxed.

“I’m really happy, you know,” he says, grinning, and you scrunch your face into a big smile.

“I know Jay, I’m so happy too.”

[azsazz]

Midnight Muse (Part 5)

Azriel x Reader [Art School AU]

Summary: You and your best friend Feyre have just moved into a new apartment for your sophomore year of college at art school. What you didn't know when you signed the lease is that you'd be living next to three rowdy boys.

Warnings: N/A

Word Count: 4,069

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Masterlist]

_________________________________________

“All I’m saying is that I think he’s pretty cute,” Feyre scoffs, defensively. 

Since you’d moved in, it seems as though your entire life revolves around the boys living next door.

While you’d finally gotten the sleep you deserved last night, something had felt…off. The other side of the wall was almost too quiet as you lay in the darkness, still awaiting sleep to take you in its hold, even though your body had been aching for sleep for so long. All night, there wasn’t a peep from the asshole sharing the wall. You knew it had to be Az living on the other side, there was no way in fucking hell that it wasn’t, but the lack of music blaring through the walls felt like a dream, almost.

You shoved the thoughts from your mind in the early hours of the morning, hastily getting ready for your day. Your first day of classes, and you wouldn’t let him ruin even that. Now, the sun shines brightly on you and Feyre as you walk to your first class of the day, Drawing 201.

You had made your schedules match up as much as they could. With Feyre being an art student as well, she had declared her major in oil painting, whereas you aren’t sure what medium you’d like to get into. All you know is that there’s something drawing you towards the arts, and thankfully, you still have time to take electives and try new classes to see if anything sticks.

The only classes you hadn’t been able to take together were your non-art related ones. Feyre seems to know exactly what her path is in life, minoring in business because she wants to open a gallery one day and figured having an understanding of what goes into owning her own business would be helpful. 

You, on the other hand, had opted for a creative writing class to fulfill that requirement for your college degree. It is a semester filled with imagination and artistry, searching for that missing piece of your soul, trying to find it along the way.

Feyre has her drawing pad tucked under an arm as she walks. Yours is held in a similar fashion, the obnoxiously large pad of paper bigger than your torso. Her golden-brown hair is tied back into a loose bun that she makes look effortless. If you were to try and recreate the same hairstyle, you’d look like a rat. She’s clad in a plain t-shirt and jeans, simple for the balmy weather, not wanting to wear something nicer only to have charcoal and paints splashed over it by the end of the day.

The two of you had been talking about your neighbors, having seen one of them driving off in his vintage car that somehow always seemed to be parked outside of the building. Its paint was red and rusted, metal rotting through. You weren’t even sure that the car was in running condition, but it gave a splutter of black smoke as he rolled away and you wondered if it would make it the few blocks down to campus. 

It was the last roommate, the one you don’t know the name of. He’s large and bulky, muscles seeming to nearly split the seams of any shirt he covered his torso with. The one who had seemed to be the least volatile, that is, until he shut the door in your face for the final time that dreadful night.

The building is old, but the classroom is spacious and drab. Concrete floors adorned with paint that hadn’t come off, dried clay chipping into dust, the room shared with many different classes working with many different mediums. The white walls brighten the room, the sun casting through the windows bouncing off of it and creating intriguing lighting to work with. Art horses are lined up in a circle, surrounding a mattress with a navy blue sheet spread across its lumpy surface. It smells of both paint and graphite, the scent comforting as a part of you settles, shoulders relaxing as you revel in it. 

Accustomed to the setup, you realize that you’re going to be jumping right into the class and will be drawing today. Last year, the most memorable moment in your first life drawing class ever was the oldest man you’ve ever seen being the nude model. Of course, that was the day that your professor had each student drawing a close-up of a specific part of the model’s body, and you’d so luckily gotten to draw his low-hanging, wrinkly balls. Lovely.

You shudder as the memory resurfaces, following Feyre to a seat. You drop your bag to the floor, setting up your own sketchpad, before pulling out the necessary materials you’ll be needing for class.

You roll your eyes in response to her statement. “I didn’t say they weren’t cute, I said that they’re assholes.” Despite your quiet night, you can’t help but wonder about Az, thinking about his brooding nature and stupidly charming face as you drifted off to sleep in the loud quiet of your room.

Students trickle in one by one. A group of girls stride in, laughing about something that happened at a bar over their weekend. Another girl follows, but it’s clear that she isn’t in their group. She’s pretty, with chic, ice blue  glasses perched on her button nose, her striking white hair hanging loose around her shoulders.

Your attention shifts to the boy that follows her in, and your jaw almost drops.

He’s handsome—no, he’s much more than that, you just can’t formulate the words twisting your thoughts and tongue into knots. Maybe after your creative writing class you’d be able to describe his sheer beauty. He has the most luxurious copper hair you’ve ever seen. It cascades across his broad shoulders, a braid on either side, caressing his face. He’s tall, too, an entire head—maybe even more—taller than the white-haired girl he’s bounding behind. His straight nose is flecked with freckles and his fox-shaped face is utterly devastating.

When his gaze finds yours, you feel as though you’re pinned to the art horse beneath you. He has one russet eye, and the other is golden. You want to commit it to memory, curse yourself for not bringing your colored pencils, stare right into those very eyes until you’ve gotten each stroke of his iris’ perfect. He’s mesmerizing, and the closer he moves, you start to make out the fine scar that slashes through that gold eye and his eyebrow above. It’s his only flaw, but only adds to his intimidating aura.

“Hi,” he greets, sliding into the empty seat next to you. You have to look up at him, even sitting, and something in your stomach stirs. “I’m Lucien.”

“(Y/N),” you respond numbly, thrown by his beauty. He’s wearing a loose button-up in the color moss, dark trousers, and even nicer shoes. He doesn’t look anything like an art student. Law, maybe. “Nice to meet you.”

You fumble with your art case as he holds out his hand for you to shake. Cheeks heating, you give him a bashful smile, sliding your hand into his. It’s warm, encapsulating the entirety of your own, and the longer your hand sits in his, the wider his pleasant smile becomes. “You as well,” he responds, then leans over to introduce himself to Feyre. With your back to him, you give her an ‘oh my gods, look how gorgeous he is’ look, and she responds with an elbow to your side, acknowledging that she sees just how gorgeous he is.

This year is determined to kill you, with all of the handsome men you’ve seen so far. Lucien maybe even more so, with how delightful he already is.

You can hardly even remember what you were conversing with Feyre about now that Lucien has entered the room. You couldn’t even remember if one of your neighbors waltzed right into the roo—

Fuck.

Of fucking course.

It’s the one roommate you don’t know the name of. The one who’d been driving away when you and your roommate left for campus this morning, waltzing into the room as if he owns the place.

His frame takes up the entire doorway, and you find yourself wondering if that’s his thing. Precious Azzy’s is being loud, Rhys’ is that forked tongue of his, and this one’s is filling any space with his massive body.

He enters the room with a swagger that has all of the girls swooning, carefree and confident. He oozes masculinity, barrel chested and tall. You didn’t know that he was in this class, though. When Rhys has said that they were juniors, you thought they’d be in the 300 classes, not 200s.

Now might be as good a time as ever to ask, though, because his hazel gaze sparks in recognition when he glances your way, and he beelines over to you. 

“Well, hello there ladies,” he greets with a seemingly genuine smile. He had been the nicest of the three when you and Feyre had almost knocked their door clean from its hinges, but he had also shut the door on you. Plus, with your not-so-great experiences with his roommates, your body is tense, prepared for the worst. “You’re taking this class?”

Feyre takes the bait on this one, and you’re well aware that Lucien is listening in, despite the fact that he’s pulled his satchel into his lap and is unloading his own supplies. “Yeah, it’s required for sophomores. Are you in it as well?”

The corner of his mouth lifts in a sinful smile. Wolfish, almost. “You could say that.” You open your mouth to speak but he’s turning towards Lucien, smile broadening into something practically wicked, sticking his hand out to introduce himself. “I’m Cassian, man. Nice to meet you.”

“Lucien,” he replies politely, though you don’t miss the slight grimace on his face when Cassian clenches his fingers in his own. You smother a laugh because Cassian looks like he could break all of the bones in Lucien’s hand with just a little more pressure if he wanted to.

The trifecta is complete. You finally have all three names, though you only know Az through his nicknames alone. Or maybe his name is Azzy. Maybe that’s why he’s so grumpy all of the time. 

Whatever. You don’t care.

After introducing yourself and Feyre to Cassian, he leans in closer. He smells earthy, like freshly turned dirt and smoked wood. It reaches out to you like roots in the ground, and it’s refreshing, to say the least.

“I’m sorry about the other night,” he starts, and you nearly recoil. You were expecting him to come in here with the arrogance his roommates seem to share, not this sincere politeness dripping from his words. His hazel eyes are earnest as you inspect him, his soft smile a touch guilty, if anything. “It’s just that I’ve got to side with my roommates. You can understand that, right?” 

“You don’t even know what he did,” you answer, trying not to grumble. Your brows are pinched and you watch Cassian take note of that. Az had been a complete prick for no reason, and that’s just not cool in your books.

Cassian winces, dropping back an inch or two. His voice is low, more of a whisper than you thought someone of his size would be able to make. “It’s not really my place to say, but Azriel had had a rough day. And no, that doesn’t excuse his actions, but you did threaten to tow his bike, and he doesn’t take that lightly. But hey, it had nothing really to do with me, so I’m willing to look past it if you are.” 

Azriel. Aa full name to a face and well, it kind of suits him. The angel of death. A shiver wracks your spine.

With that permanent scowl, he certainly looks the part.

And, this isn’t the apology you expected, but it’s a truce, a peace offering between neighbors. Maybe, if you accept, Cassian will be able to pass along the message of ‘shut the fuck up after midnight’ to Azriel.

You share a look with Feyre, contemplating. It seems as though she’s thinking similarly to you because she smiles up at Cassian, agreeing. “We’d love that.”

Cassian beams, straightening to his full height. Fuck, he’s huge. 

He looks as if he may say something more, but the professor enters the room and calls his name. He shoots you and Feyre a cheeky grin. “That’s me,” he jerks a thumb over his shoulder. “I’ll come get your numbers after class. Try not to enjoy it too much, ladies.” With a wink, he turns, gliding across the room with an ease someone built like a brick wall should have.

Your eyes follow him as he stalks towards the teacher, all grins and positivity. Maybe he isn’t like his broody, rude roommates. The teacher asks him something and he’s nodding along as if he’s done this before and is being reminded of what’s expected of him for this class. He roots around in the bag slung over his shoulder and pulls something out as he makes his way towards the door. Maybe he’s not enrolled in your class and only needed to speak to the professor?

“Welcome to Drawing 201,” the professor greets, clapping her hands together to gain the attention of the room. The murmurs soften as she speaks, students ready to have their talents molded by her intelligence. “My name is Ms. Woods, but you can call me Alis.”

You don’t miss Cassain slipping back into the room as Alis walks you through warm up exercises and best practices for the class. Your fingers are already coated with charcoal from where you’d roughly outlined shapes of Feyre’s body for warm ups. The curves on your paper become more and more fluid as you get into the familiar motions of drawing.

“What do you think he’s doing here?” you murmur to Feyre, still watching where Cassian is crouched low as if he wouldn’t be able to hear the professor from his full height. While you’re turned this way, you catch Lucien peeking at you over his shoulder for a fleeting moment, and before your gaze can snag his, he’s turning back to his own work.

Feyre shrugs, studying the lines of your face. “You don’t think he’s the—”

“This is Cassian,” Alis interrupts, stealing your attention from your roommate and your drawing. It’s nothing more than a mess of rough shapes, looking nothing like her at all, but you’re trusting the process. Only a minute's time isn’t long enough for more than that. 

Cassian is no longer wearing his loose jeans and tight t-shirt. Instead, he dons a thick, gray robe. The fabric doesn’t nearly drape far enough down, his gloriously tanned and muscular legs on full display, showing off an intricate tattoo from his knees, creeping up underneath the fabric. Your mouth goes dry at the sight, following the lines of muscle all the way up as Alis continues, “He’s going to be our model for the day.”

You’re not the only one who chokes at the news. Girls and guys alike are blushing in their seats, and Cassian can hardly contain the smug smirk threatening to split his face in two. He winks over at you and Feyre who share a wide-eyed look. Lucien scoffs lightly, and your jaw snaps shut, pink heating your cheeks as well.

You busy yourself by flipping to a new page in your pad. It’s crisp and white, not at all as interesting as you’re trying to make it seem as you avoid Cassian’s mirth-filled stare. You smooth the paper with your hand, and it’s shaking slightly with anticipation. Your new neighbor who’s just offered a truce, and you’re already going to be seeing him naked.

Would it have been weirder to be mad at him and stare at his naked form, or now, when a ceasefire has been declared and you’re somewhat on the road to becoming friends?

You don’t have the chance to think further on it because Cassian moves into the circle towards the lone mattress on the floor as Alis explains how the time spent in class is going to be divided. There will be a few three minute sketching sessions where you are to get down as much of his form as you can, while Cassian continuously changes poses. Following that, there will be two fifteen minute sessions, a break, and a final longer session where you’ll focus more on detail than form.

He slides out of his shoes, and you swallow roughly as he undoes the ties to his robe. Thankfully, he’s not looking at you, watching your intent gaze pinned to his tanned skin. The fabric slides from his broad shoulders, down, exposing the muscles of his back. The less fabric that shows, the more tattoos you see, covering both arms and licking across his chest. His waist pulls in tight and you have to bite your lip to hold back a noise in the completely silent room. Rippling muscles line his body, corded and thick in all of the right places. You can’t help it, staring unabashed because he’s turned away from you, your eyes falling from the inky whorls of tattoos across his shoulders, down through the cavern of the muscle lining his spine, all the way down to his tight ass.

All of the students are entrapped by his beauty, as if he’s aphrodite reincarnated. Two dimples poke in the base of his spine that you want to lean forward and dip your tongue into, but then he’s shifting a little and his cock is on full display.

The stick of charcoal in your fingers snaps in half.

You hope you get that facing you for the few hours you’ll be here.

Next to you, Lucien tuts under his breath, but even he can’t seem to look away from the Greek God standing before you.

Alis instructs Cassian into his first pose and then addresses the class. “Alright, your time begins now.”

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•

You don’t know how you’re able to focus on anything other than the cock draped so prettily across his abdomen.

Cassian looks as relaxed as ever, splayed out across the blue sheet on the mattress, one arm tucked beneath his head, eyes shut, and breathing even as if he might have actually fallen asleep. 

With the late nights you know he and his roommates tend to have, you wouldn’t be surprised in the slightest.

You lose yourself in the quiet of the classroom, nothing but the sounds of long strokes or chalk against paper, the scratch of quick sharp lines being drawn. There’s the occasional murmur of advice or comments from Alis as she makes her rounds, weaving through students spread throughout the room.

Drawing the contours of his muscle is no easy feat. Packed layer upon layer from years or hard work spent in the gym, you rub the dark soot into your drawing pad. It’s calming, sweeping the charcoal over the white space to create shadows the lighting paints across his body.

His tattoos take some effort, even though Alis had said not to worry about those, that getting his form down was more important, but you can’t help yourself. You’ve always been interested in people’s tattoos and the stories behind them, the significance or lack thereof for some, despite having none of your own. You draw them with an extra care, trying your best not to make up reasons as to why he might have them. Now that you’re going to be on friendly terms, maybe you can ask him the meaning behind them yourself.

Eventually, Alis’ timer goes off, the ringtone the same as your phone, and for a fleeting moment your body reacts as if it’s your own alarm going off, a slight twist in your stomach as your body locks for a moment. You put down your chunk of charcoal as Cassian sits up, dusting your fingers off and admiring your drawing, comparing it to the model once more before he tugs on his robe.

Feyre stands to stretch, her back popping as she twists around. You wipe the soot from your hands on a cloth and grab your water bottle, the crisp water wetting your parched throat.

Lucien leans over, copper hair cascading over his shoulder and almost brushing your arm in the process. You wouldn’t mind, it looks silky smooth and the smell of his hair oil makes you want to lean in a little closer. He studies your work as you drink and eventually, with a smirk, says, “You have quite an eye for detail.”

You splutter and he bites his pink lip, trying to smother his smile. He gives you the most innocent look he can muster, but he doesn’t know that you have a retort on the tip of your tongue, just as soon as you stop choking.

“You sound a little bit jealous there, Lucien.”

Feyre laughs and he gapes dramatically, “Maybe, a little.”

You can’t help but to chuckle at his antics, the rest of your classmates packing up around you. Cassian’s disappeared from the room already, probably in the restroom changing, and you wonder if he’ll be back for your number like he promised.

In the meantime, you pack your things away, stuffing your extra chalks of charcoal back into your case, along with your cloth and kneaded eraser. You feel confident in the work you’ve done today, so with a last glance at your drawing, you flip your pad shut, taking Feyre’s for her and walking with Lucien to stash them in the assigned drawer you and Feyre share.

“So, are you an art major?” you ask, waiting for the crowd around the shelves to dissipate a little.

He cuts you a suspicious look, but it’s playful. “You didn’t get a glimpse of my drawing, did you? I suppose I can’t blame you with a model looking like that, but it’s entirely awful,” he states, and you stare up at him in disbelief. 

“Surely it can’t be that bad,” you argue, and his lips thin a little as he flips open his drawing pad just enough for only you to see. It’s difficult to hold in the laugh trying to burst from your throat. 

Lucien winces but a puff of laughter follows that makes your shoulders ease. “I told you it was shit, your face only confirmed it!”

There’s no coming back from this one, so you decide to play into it.

“Okay, it’s not great, but I’ve definitely seen worse. You should’ve seen my stuff from last year.”

Lucien rolls his eyes, stepping forward in line. “Oh, I’m sure it was nothing like the gorgeous drawing you’ve managed to pull out of your ass in two hours today,” he scoffs, and you elbow him in the arm gently. “Your drawing literally looks like a photograph!”

It doesn’t, but your cheeks heat at his compliment anyway. 

“I might’ve been doing this a little longer than you have,” you defend. Since you could hold a crayon, to be exact.

He huffs, stuffing his pad into a drawer and offering to help you with yours and Feyres. He pulls your drawer open and you slide the pads inside, stepping out of the way so others can crowd him as he closes up and follows you back to your seats. “Well, then you might have to help me out, because I thought that taking a few drawing classes would help me with my renderings for architecture, but those are all straight lines and circles and this is all curved lines and cock.”

You can’t help but laugh this time, leaning over your horse to pack away the rest of your supplies. Feyre’s all ready to go, face buried in her phone as she texts someone, fingers tapping quickly on the screen.

“You know, if you remove yourself from what you’re looking at, this is all just lines and circles too.”

Lucien slings his satchel over his shoulder, staring down at you with those mesmerizing eyes that shine when he speaks. “Would you want to explain that further sometime, over coffee perhaps?”

You’re a little shocked by his bluntness, but you grin and nod nonetheless. “I’d like that.”

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•

Midnight Muse Taglist: @going-through-shit @honeycriess @natashachelsea @thisisew @kennedy-brooke @cat-or-kitten @sourapplex @magical-mischief-makers @reiincarnatiion @ccucumbers @secret-ly-here @throneofsmut @cami26cami @torchbearerkyle @a-frog-with-a-laptop @sevikas-whore @endless-worldss @vellichor01 @bangtans-jagiya @kalulakunundrum @pinksmellslikelove @sakurafrost3-blog @imxnotxhere @bookishbroadwaybish @justdreamstars @i-am-infinite @whichwitchisthebitch @i-am-a-lost-girl16 @sia-r @acourtofbatboydreams @hannzoaks @judig92 @ilikefictionalmen @harrystylesfan2686 @dr4g0ngirl @vellichor01 @hirah-yummar @girl-who-writes-stuff @lees-chaotic-brain @konaanaria13 @emiler-love @yourdorkiness @azrielsstarlight

[nanamimizz]

i’ve heard u have some…dubcon sae thoughts lamb…….

𝐅𝚶𝐑 𝐌𝚬 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐅𝚶𝐑 𝐌𝚬 𝚶𝐍𝐋𝐘

Tags: fem! Reader dubcon, fingering, somnophilia, established relationship, reader’s clothes are described as “skimpy”, possessiveness, reader has japanese nationally (they grew up there!) - let me know if i missed something

Synopsis:  You’re the only thing Sae loves from Japan, so just keep being pretty for him?

Sae gets home from his red-eye flight at two in the morning - some parts of the cities are still alive but your apartment is dead quiet, the lights are out and he’s sure when he steps in you’ll be in bed. Tucked in your too-soft blankets that are soft and fuzzy because you always run too cold for your own good. He bets you even have that little pink bear that you’ve had since you were a baby; you always bring it into your bed when you miss him. Sae can’t help but think it’s cute, how earnestly you miss him even if all he’ll do is scoff and keep his cool facade.

You gave him keys to your place a long time ago, a little too soon in his opinion but he’s glad you trust him enough to enter your home when he’s too tired for the long trip to his family home. The scent of honey and vanilla is in the air, a ghost of a smile on his handsome face when he sees you light the candle he brought you from Spain. The soft green of the wax reminded him of you - you were his green, his safe space like an open meadow free from any sort of worry. He sets his bag down quietly and takes off his shoes, putting them aside neatly in the clean space that shines in the soft light from the lamps in the hall that automatically turn on and off. As he walks further into your home he makes his way to the closet in the hallway, it’s where you store his spare clothes for when he drops by. 

Sae is almost jealous. You have an unspoken talent for laundry, all his clothes come out smelling nicer and feeling softer when they are washed under your careful hands than his. A new set of clothes in hand he makes his way to take a quick shower - you enjoy keeping clean and Sae would rather die than bring the germs from the plane into your bed sheets that he knows you washed today. When he sees his products lining your shower he hums amusedly when grabs his shampoo and begins to lather the product in his hair.

You had even stocked up for him. How cute, how earnest, how could Sae ever stay away from you?

He’s all done now, in fifteen minutes or less, and pads quietly into your bedroom. Sae rarely smiles, wearing his emotions openly was something he never needed to do around Rin but when he went overseas at the tender age of fifteen it became his outer shell more than anything else. Now, it’s a habit he can’t curve but it helps when you are asleep and he can smile broadly as your sleeping form; your face is being smushed into the pillow and he was right, you did have the little bear at your side.

You had missed him something fierce this time around and his hand is out to pet your head in a way that makes you drowsy. Sae shakes his head when he hears sleepily mumble something that sounds like the three letters of his name and he feels you getting closer to his hand. The crown of your head fits perfectly into the palm of his hand and Sae can’t help but think if that’s what your heart weighs. He pulls back the sheets, the smell of your detergent and it’s funny how well Sae knows-

Oh.

Sae Itoshi did not expect this.

He was right about everything but what you wore to bed, makes him freeze in place. Never before had he seen so much of your skin and even his stoic outer shell crumbles when he can so blatantly take in the curve of your stomach and the swell of your hips. A soft black top that shows off your belly and shoulders paired with panties he’s never seen before. Charcoal gray, low on your hips, and trimmed by lace. Sae swallows around the lump in his throat when he greedily consumes how the skimpy underwear rests below your belly button - he can see the cute birthmark you have underneath it and it takes all he has in his heart to stop himself from reaching out to kiss the little spot.

The puppet master knows not what to do when he does not hold the strings, he wonders if maybe they have been held in your comparable dainty hand all this time.

His hand twitches and for once Sae moves without careful foresight, letting the tips of his fingers trace up the soft swell of your thighs. You’re ticklish so even the slightest touch makes you twitch and make a soft little noise that is too muddled by sleep for him to read what it means. He folds the blanket away and you whine, there is something charming in the way you curl up under him from the loss of warmth. His hands grow greedy, and the tips of his fingers become his palms to skim against the skin of your exposed belly.

He wonders if this is why cats purr as there is a flower of contentment in his chest as he paws at your skin and where he is all hard lines and definition your skin is satin and silk and all things smooth in the world. Sae doesn’t know what’s come over him, in a blink of an eye his gentle touches turn hungry and they take to separate ways. His right hand goes to the north where the swell of your chest is more prominent and his left hand goes to where your thighs meet. Desire is a tricky thing, blindsiding not only you but the object of your wanting too - it’s why you wake up with a jolt and a sleepy call of his name on your lips.

“Sae? What are you-”

“Shh, it’s okay just lay back.” he cuts off with a whisper that is as gentle as it is wicked and Sae lets his fingers sink into the plush of your breast as he traces the gusset of your panties.

“W-when did you get back?” He answers you with a hum, following the seam of your underwear until he finds the pretty little lacy that frames the soft plush of your bottom. His thumb digs into the fat, tracing the stretching marks and thumbing the cute little birthmark you have on your cheek.

“Just got here - tonight. Was going to join you in bed but then I saw you wearing this skimpy shit for me and I couldn’t help myself.” He whispers as he peels back your panties only to laugh under his breath when he can see the way a string of slick clings to the fabric. Your hand blindly reaches out, barely getting to his wrist before you feel it - his fingers swiping through your damp folds.

“Ah, Sae it’s not skimpy, s’not for you and - Sae wait please I’m too sleepy,” You whine back, twisting and arching your back as his fingers find the swelling pearl of your clit and begin to swipe at it in the way that your knees tremble. His body follows yours and he bends over you until his mouth is to your ear.

“You can go back to bed if you want. This is more for me than for you, you’re the prettiest for me when you cum.” You shudder into the pillows, turning your face back into them as you fall into a state of half sleepiness and half pleasure lidded. Sae’s finger slips inside and with the precision of a machine, he finds all your weak spots like he hasn’t been gone for four months across the world.

You moan girlish little sounds - high and thin into the pillow and you can hear Sae tease you from above you, “What? I thought you were too sleepy for this?” You don’t even have it in you to say anything back, only further melting in your place between the bed and the hardness you feel above you. In the low light, he sits back on his haunches still giving you his fingers as he watches the clear, tacky slick that seeps from you and clings to his hand down to his wrist.

“You expect me to believe this isn’t skimpy? Bet you wanted this to happen, wanted to get your little cunt finger fucked by your boyfriend, huh?” He whispers to you, loud enough that you can hear because he knows you’re still awake, the pleasure thrumming in your system too much to let you sleep deeply and truly. Your back arches deeper this time and you squeal as the band of heat that had been growing in your stomach - right underneath that cute little birthmark under your belly button snaps as you gush down the lines of his palm. Whines and huffs leave your lips, you sound like a little puppy which only endears him more to you if that was possible.

Sae feels you twitch when you feel the heat that’s being pressed against your too-sensitive cunt, his crouching all around you now, letting you feel the bulge in his sweats.

“Everything about you is for me and me only. Don’t ever forget it, got it?” You lift your face from the pillows and something in him coos at how water your eyes are as you blink away the remaining sleep that had tucked itself into them. Teal eyes glow green from greed as he looks down at you through unstyled mauve hair.

“Let me do the work, just be pretty for me, yeah?” You nod, because everything about you is for Sae and Sae only.

[hedghost]

A Comprehensive Rating of all The New Nike Kits that Literally No One Asked Me For:

starting off strong with England:

listen when i first saw this i was like hmm okay 😐, then i saw it on the players and i was like hmmm okayyyyy 💅💅

home is clean, classic - i like it. collar is a choice but i think it works, sleeves are nice, retro kits slay always - 8/10

controversial but purple as a colour in general sucks. however, i would barely call this away kit purple, the charcoal vibe is actually fucking sexy. it’s almost a grey kit, and a grey kit is almost a black kit, and i love black kits. love the pattern down the side, love the gold, my only reservation is that it looks like a training kit (specifically that ugly purple kit the lionesses had a few years ago) - 7.5/10

special shout-out to that eyesore of a goalie kit, i absolutely fucking love it

——

now Portugal is a serving us a game of two halves:

the home is… a kit. it’s nice, it’s clean, but it literally could not be less forgettable. it’s fine - 5/10

the away on the other hand - masterpiece. that pattern is actually gorgeous, colours are so cute, and it’s actually unique! love when kits have nods to culture/history- 10/10, stunning

——

United States - yea girl give us nothing!

listen the home is fine. but one word springs to mind and that word is boring. where’s the flavour? the flag collar saves it - 6/10

the away is absolutely vile i fucking hate that- 1/10

—-

France said how big can we possibly make our badge:

again home is fine. it’s nothing special, it’s clean, it’s whatever, it’s a home kit. i’m bored. however both kits suffer from the ailment of that absolute fucking monster chicken. why is it so huge - 5/10

the away is nicer. pinstripe is nothing to write home about, but at least there’s a little something something going on. again, the chicken is hard to get past - 6.5/10

—-

Canada gave us the classics

these are both nice kits. the home is proof that nike do know how to make plain kits that don’t look like they just stuck a badge on a primark t-shirt. simple done well - 8/10

again, the away is simple but effective. does look a bit like an exercise book, but that’s fine. sleek, classy, it’s a decent kit - 7/10

—-

Brazil proves once again that they know the meaning of cool:

listen, when the colour scheme of your team is yellow and green, you just have to commit to garish. this kit is an eyesore in a good way. this is not a great picture of the pattern but let me tell you it’s gorgeous. i’m not sure about this weird collar though, it looks fine on some of these other kits but idk it’s just not doing it for me here - 8/10

again, this away pattern is hurting my eyes just looking at it, but i like it a lot. makes me wanna go to the beach. brazil knows who they are, and you will know about it. nice colour, bit of fun! more fun kits please! - 7.5/10

—-

just like it’s football team, Poland’s kits are pretty forgettable:

yeah sorry poland i really don’t know what to tell you here, it’s just really fucking dull. the collar does look nice here, but other than that it’s really not saying much - 4/10

again, not much to say. this does have a bit of a cross stitch pattern which i quite like, but other than that it’s average. normally i like a centred badge but here it just looks like weird. think it’s too big. sorry poland - 5.5/10

—-

sorry Turkey, the only thing worse than boring, is being boring and ugly:

this away shirt makes polands kit look like the sistine chapel. i can’t even comment because there is absolutely nothing going on - 3/10

and yet somehow… the home kit is worse. i will never be a fan of a block stripe across the chest. the centred badge might have worked if it didn’t have a circle around it. boring and ugly - 2/10

—-

meanwhile, South Korea blew it out the fucking water!

now this is how you make a kit! take notes turkey! this home kit is literally beautiful. colour is stunning, pattern is gorgeous! 11/10 no notes

and it doesn’t stop there! black kits are stunning anyway, but this?! i adore it. so fun, so sleek. - 10/10

—-

The Netherlands just couldn’t really be arsed:

i fucking hate this. orange kits done well are beautiful, and this is neither one of those things. at least the players will be up to code if they visit a construction site. the colour is quite literally named ‘safety orange’ - 2/10

the away kit is alright. i quite like it, the patterns decent. the colours are nice. it does look a bit like a bus seat though. - 5.5/10

—-

China took the stripped back approach :

these aren’t my favourites, but they are nice. the home is classic, nothing fancy, but it’s smooth, it’s sleek, it’s smart. the sleeves are a nice touch - 6.5/10

the same goes for the away. not as nice as the red, but it’s cool. i like it. - 6/10

—-

Norway forgot which continent they’re from:

now i’m aware the home kit is unpopular, but i actually like it. idk it’s something different, it’s a smart little pattern, centred badge looks good - i’m a fan. i like when countries incorporate their flags into their shirt. it is, however, the flag of thailand. - 7/10

this is a nice away kit. it’s giving fjords, it’s giving glaciers, it’s giving norway. reminds me of the adidas wwc kits, and we all know how nice those were. - 9/10

—-

Nigeria only knows how to serve cunt!

this is nice. it’s giving me like early noughties vibes, with the font and the tick, and i’m a fan. i’ve never seen a bad green and white kit. well played nigeria, well played. - 8/10

i love black kits. i love green kits. i love patterned kits. and i love this kit. it’s a sick pattern, and it’s just gorgeous. good job - 10/10

—-

Croatia is… also here:

yeah croatia what the fuck is this? this home kit is absolutely atrocious. boring and ugly - 3/10

i honestly don’t know if the away is better or worse. just because you can, doesn’t mean you should. i don’t know, it’s alright. weird - 4/10

[edytae]

Chapter 3: picnic (smut-mature) ft. Kim Taehyung x Reader

pairing: Taehyung x (female) reader        

summary: very soft scenes and Taehyung is in love

rating: fluffff!!! slight smut, still do not interact if you are underage

genre/warnings: there isn't much. Taehyung imagines some hot stuff briefly. 

word count: 21K

A/N: chapters aren't in chronological order. Check out my other work on my masterlist.

Chapter 1:  Needy Love

Chapter 2: Tae-time

Chapter 3: picnic

“Y/N, do you know I called you here, darling?” Your father asked gingerly as he sipped the coffee you made for him. You pulled yourself up from the couch and shook your head nervously. “No, father, but I was hoping we could chat about my studies.” You were perfectly bending your voice to appear calm. 

“It is about your future, my darling daughter.” He sipped another big gulp and nodded his head approvingly. “You know you are in the age of-” You sighed at the same old introduction to the same old topic, marriage. “Please, don’t roll your eyes. I– we– your mother and I firmly believe that it is your time have a serious relationship.” His voice was way nicer than your mother’s. She would just start complaining about you and it never ended well.

“Namjoon is still single.” You had an answer ready all the time. 

“Well, your brother is a man. He is— I know sweetheart, I know it must feel so unfair as we treat you differently because you are a woman. I think it is bullshit too, but I must care for you regardless.”  When you thought about it objectively, you couldn’t find your parents unreasonable. They were already beyond their peers to support you in your career. 

“But marriage is– scary!” You shrugged eyes stuck on the shining pen holder he had on his desk.

“It is not supposed to be… Also, since when you think Taehyung is scary?” Your father asked you playfully. You choked on your breath at the sound of his name. Your heart started beating crazy, your palms got sweaty immediately. 

“Wh-what do y-you mean- Taehyung?” You asked with your cheeks burning like charcoals. Your father continued with a reminiscent smile on his face. “Oh, you thought we forgot the times you cried to be Taehyung’s bride?” 

You remembered your twelfth birthday when Taehyung decided that he was too cool to play with kids, and you screamed in his face, “You can’t go Kim Taehyung. Our wedding didn’t even start yet.” He had replied with, “No, Y/N. I am not a child anymore; I don’t want to play with your friends.” The denial had made you cry your eyes out to his parents. They had soothed but you continued to cry, tugging at your white dress, “But I-i want to be Taehyung’s bride! No, I want him!” 

You couldn’t reply to your father without turning into a beetroot. Your knees were shaking from where you were sitting. Your ears were buzzing as if strong winds were blowing. “Does he know about this?” You whispered as you covered your face with your hands. 

“Of course, he does. We have talked about a prospect of an actual marriage, but if you don’t want to marry him, that’s something else. You may find another suitable ma–” 

You didn’t let your father finish his words. “Fine.” Your father knew your facade. He knew that you would act uninterested, but the blush on your face was enough of an answer. “You don’t have to rush–” He tried to continue but you shut him up again with a huff. 

“I said fine! Now, please excuse me. I am late to bed.” You left your father's office with your cheeks redder than the sun. He was laughing after you, chuffed with your infatuation with Taehyung.

The air was colder in the corridors. Your shoes clinked on the marble rhythmically as you rushed your wing. You needed alone time to process all of this. Thankfully, it was way after dinner, everyone was in the living room for drinks so you could easily excuse yourself to your wing without anyone noticing it. 

When you entered your small living room, you could hear your heart beating in your ears. You were beyond excited to hear the expected news. 

Taehyung was your childhood love. He was your first and only love, your best friend for years. He was always kind, understanding, generous and fun. Oh, he was so fun to be around. He could always make your day with a simple thing. He was thoughtful. He would always bring you various gifts when he travelled. He would get you jewellery, clothes, shoes, hats… He would get you flowers to plant in your greenhouse at his parent’s mansion. He would help you care for your baby orchids and trees. He used to write you long letters when you were away in a boarding school. He would write everything that happened, his feelings, his plans. You would read them over and over again. He was also very attractive too. He was the most charming person you ever met. He could easily captivate anyone with his contagious laugh and seductive words. 

Just like that, you heard a couple of laughs. You walked towards to window and looked outside to see Jimin, Namjoon and Taehyung sharing a cigarette just below the arbour. They were inhaling the cigarette smoke quickly and passing it around like a bunch of teens. Taehyung was standing in the middle; he was facing your family’s mansion. Jimin and Namjoon were on his sides, laughing at something very enthusiastically.

Taehyung must have sensed as his eyes immediately found your room’s window. You flinched back when his eyes grazed your face through the thick glass. There was no way he could see you in your dark room, but still, you held your breath. Taehyung slightly squinted, and then his lips curled. Right after, Namjoon and Jimin left with their wrestling game. Taehyung dismissed them with a nod of his chin. You assumed he would leave too, but he kept staring at your window. 

With a sudden urge of confidence, you turned on your lamp light beside your window. This was where you sat and read before going to bed so your lamp was conveniently close. Taehyung’s brows rose up as you finally quit being so stubborn. 

You pulled your window open, “What are you looking at?” 

Taehyung chuckled, “Looking at my beautiful fiancée!” He shouted back with a grin. Oh, he already knew why your father wanted to talk to you. That was why he held your hand before you left to see your father at his office.

You huffed, stomping your feet on the ground. Even though Taehyung didn’t get to see it fully, he was beyond glad to see you this flustered so his laugh only grew larger until you poked your tongue at him and closed your window with blinds tightly shut. 

Taehyung eyes were locked onto your window, sort of in shock when you poked your tongue. You were still that annoying little girl with two ponytails, and now you were going to be his wife. He rolled his neck slowly. He was feeling amazing. Taehyung loved you for as long as he could remember. You were his play friend since you were babies. You were his best friend while growing up. But things changed when Taehyung hit puberty first. As his body changed to be a man, he realised his feelings were deeper than a friendship. He was in love with you as he yearned to spend time with you every single day. 

Also, he craved you like a mature man as he woke up to soiled underwear with you in his mind. You were a pretty, lovely woman he adored endlessly. Since he was a kid, Taehyung has been referred to as your future husband, but now, he was closer to turning that into a reality.

Taehyung had multiple meetings with your father about your future with him. Your dad was a simple, direct man. He wanted you to marry Taehyung. He was very well aware of your infatuation for each other since you two were teenagers. But he also wanted you to have a perfect marriage without any dishonesty. 

“Look, kid… You know, I like you so listen carefully. Y/N is my only daughter and I want her to have a perfect life. And I know you love her but I need to be sure that you are perfect for her… I need to be sure that you will never put her second and that you don’t and won’t have any lovers. My daughter cannot ever be a second to another woman, nor a mistress. I am giving you some time to get yourself together.” 

Your father’s talk was short, precise and non-negotiable. Taehyung knew if he didn’t live up to those set expectations of a perfect husband, you could easily find hundreds of men to tie the knot. He didn’t remember how many times he wanted to punch someone right in the face because they were dying to meet you, would love to take you out for an opera… So, Taehyung did get himself together.

He was already in business with your father so he was always in the spot which made him work harder and be more sensible. Taehyung knew this wasn’t about money. Only a part of your inheritance was enough to feed a village for years. 

Then, he had cut his ties with many of his friends, which your father considered not good friends, a considerable amount of them consisted of females. 

Taehyung came to thr next meeting with your father with a good profit, a refreshed social circle and a prayer on his lips to have you as his wife. “I am glad you improved, my son. I know you will be good to my daughter… You will understand what this means when you have a daughter of your own.” When your father gave him the green light to proceed further, he sobbed like a young kid right there.  Your father was surprised as he watched Taehyung cry in his chair. Taehyung knew how meticulous your parents were about your life. Taehyung’s parents were the same as his sister. He understood that well and wanted to be his best for you. 

Taehyung saw a shadow move behind your curtains, a few minutes later the shadow disappeared as you turned off your gas lamp. Taehyung lit up another cigarette, this time smoking with joy as he imagined you cuddled up in your big bed with big pillows. Soon enough it would be him that you cuddled. 

—

On a warm and sunny afternoon, a few days after your dad’s talk with you, Taehyung arrived at your family estate, eager to see you. Your families were living very close lives. On gorgeous days like these, they would take turns to make dinner plans and enjoy each other's company. In the past days, you made an incredible effort to avoid Taehyung, your actions often resembled those of a playful child as you gasped every time you saw Taehyung hide.

You felt a mixture of excitement and shyness that made your heart race. It had always happened with Taehyung. You were running and Taehyung was chasing. He would do that with you gladly as long as you landed in his arms. 

 You were usually in your garden before dinner, soaking up the last bit of sun before saying goodbye to it for the day. You enjoyed being with tall trees and flowers despite not liking the accompanies that came with them: the bees and flies. As he strolled through the lush garden, he called your name. "Y/N, where are you? I can't wait to see you!" Taehyung's voice was filled with love and anticipation.

Taehyung's brow furrowed in playful frustration as he continued to search for you. "Y/N, you can't hide from me forever!"

He wandered deeper into the garden, searching for your hiding place, his determination mingled with amusement. He couldn't help but find your shyness endearing.

Finally, his eyes caught a glimpse of the delicate lace from your dress peeking out from behind the roses. He moved closer, his smile widening as he saw you blushing, your face partially concealed by the blossoms.

"Found you," he whispered, his voice warm and loving.

Your shyness only seemed to deepen as he approached. "Taehyung," you said, your voice barely above a murmur. “What are you doing here?” You asked while trying to look busy with gardening, but your attempts were cute. 

"Y/N," Taehyung replied, feigning innocence but with a mischievous glint in his eye. "I was just strolling through this lovely garden and, well, I couldn't resist the temptation to find the most beautiful flower here."

You gasped largely at him, cheeks flushed. "You and your leisurely strolls," you teased, pretending to be engrossed in tending to the roses. “Since when you are a man of the green?”

It was true that gardening wasn’t Taehyung’s liking, but it didn’t mean that he wasn’t good at it. He always helped you when you were kids.

He took a step closer, his tone playfully innocent. "Am I not allowed to visit my future wife's garden?"

Your heart fluttered at the words "future wife," but you maintained your facade. "You can't just sneak up on a lady. You're supposed to be a gentleman!”

Taehyung raised an eyebrow, a sly grin on his face. "Who said I was sneaking? I called your name."

“Well, I happen to not hear it.” You shrugged and continued awkwardly patting a flower. He took another step closer, his gaze unwavering. "You know, I find your attempts to look busy very cute."

“What? I am not pretending!”

Taehyung chuckled at your faux indignation. "Oh, I'm sure you're the most diligent gardener I know with a lace dress right before dinner."

You rolled your eyes but couldn't hide the smile on your face. "Well, someone has to tend to these flowers."

Taehyung took another step closer, and now he was right beside you. He plucked a stray leaf from a nearby plant and studied it for a moment. "You're right. But you know, I have been trying to spend some time with my lovely flower too."

You raised an eyebrow, trying to sound nonchalant but failing as your heart raced. "Your lovely flower?"

He flashed a mischievous smile, "Yes, my lovely, shy flower who hides in the garden."

You huffed playfully, "Shy? Me? Never."

Taehyung shook his head, his dark hair ruffling in the breeze. "Oh, I beg to differ. I've seen you turn redder than those roses whenever I'm near."

You are offended. "I do not!"

He moved even closer, his gaze warm but teasing. "In fact, you're blushing right now."

Your cheeks grew warm, and you turned away to hide your face, missing the triumphant grin that crossed his. Taehyung laughed, and the sound was like music to your ears.

“I– Taehyung!” You hid your face in your hands before turning to run back to the house.

Taehyung chuckled, following you at a leisurely pace, though the mischievous glint in his eyes didn't fade. "Hey, don't run away now!"

Taehyung could easily catch you but he intentionally walked slowly and stood behind you. Your dress, hair and your shoes weren’t for running at all. You were a pretty doll to be enjoyed by Taehyung’s eyes. 

The dining room was expansive, with high ceilings adorned with intricate chandeliers that bathed the space in a warm, golden glow. The walls were covered in rich, dark wood panelling, which gave the room a sense of grandeur. Large, ornate paintings hung from the walls.

The table was set with fine china, crystal glassware, and silver cutlery. A clean white tablecloth draped over it, adding to the air of sophistication.  The chairs around the table were upholstered in plush, dark velvet and featured intricate carvings that added to the room's old-world charm. At the head of the table, there were two particularly imposing chairs, one reserved for your father, and the other for Mr. Kim, Taehyung's father.

The room was adorned with other antique furnishings like a grand wooden sideboard on one wall. A beautiful marble fireplace dominated the other wall, with a roaring fire that added a cosy touch.

The large windows, draped in heavy curtains, offered a glimpse of the manicured gardens outside. The entire scene created an atmosphere of timeless elegance, a reminder of the grandeur of the aristocratic society to which both your families belonged.

As you rushed into the dining room through the big glass door, the delicious aroma of dinner greeted you. Your parents were already there, waiting for dinner to be ready. They shared knowing smiles and soft laughter at the sight of you and Taehyung being so playful and clearly in love. They couldn't resist a bit of teasing and playful banter flowed freely. There was a shared delight in seeing the two of you so deeply in love.

Your father raised an eyebrow and said, "Ah, the young lovebirds have graced us with their presence." 

Taehyung's family, the Kims, couldn't resist joining in the fun. Mr. Kim, with a chuckle, said, "Well, it's good to see that you two are as inseparable as ever." Mrs. Kim added, "Young love is a beautiful thing, isn't it?" They were holding hands elegantly. 

This light-hearted teasing made you blush, and you sought refuge by stepping closer to Taehyung. Your cheeks turned a shade of pink as you playfully hid your face behind his shoulder, allowing him to shield you from the teasing.

Taehyung looked behind, seeing you get smaller and smaller. As you playfully hid behind Taehyung from the teasing, he couldn't help but find you utterly endearing. He wanted to wrap his arms around your waist, swirl you around and bury his nose into your neck. His strong, protective instincts kicked in. 

As the light-hearted teasing continued, Taehyung couldn't help but notice how your discomfort was increasing. So, with a playful yet protective smile, he decided to divert the attention away from you.

"Alright, alright," Taehyung said, his voice carrying a touch of playful authority. “Please stop before Y/N turns completely red.” He was so desperate for physical touch. He wanted to coo your cute face and kiss your temple when you looked up at him with thankful eyes. 

Casual chatter filled the room, and Taehyung's protective gesture hadn't gone unnoticed, and you felt grateful for the considerate and caring partner by your side. The blush on your cheeks began to recede, replaced by a feeling of contentment. As the chatter continued and the delightful aroma of the dinner filled the air, your families proceeded to dinner in the grand and sophisticated dining room. The long, intricately carved wooden table was adorned with fine china and sparkling crystal glasses. The soft glow of the chandeliers above cast an enchanting light across the room.

You and Taehyung took your seats next to each other, as etiquette suggested for an engaged couple. Despite not being officially married yet, the two of you were forced to embrace the traditions and formalities even in intimate family dinners.

Throughout the dinner, Taehyung's attention was solely on you. He ensured your glass was never empty, expertly striking up conversations to draw you into discussions. His eyes held a special tenderness whenever he looked at you, filled with a silent promise of a future together. However, as the evening continued, and the sweet scent of the wine lingered in the air, Taehyung's desires grew more physical. He had been drinking to stop himself from gawking at you. His leg brushed against yours under the table, and he couldn't help but steal subtle glances in your direction. His longing for you was evident in the way his gaze lingered and his fingers lightly grazed your hand during the pauses in conversation.

Your skin felt tingly when he touched you, but still very comforting. You found yourself craving for his touch, but you pushed the indecent thoughts from your head. Taehyung couldn’t though. He was almost addicted to daydreaming about you until your voice filled his ears. 

“It is really important for our city as well as it is for our business. The DeVergensky family has a really good relationship with the King.” Mr Kim commented after your father announced their trip to Lyon. 

The DeVergensky family, wealthy and distinguished, had decided to leave Russia amidst the ongoing conflict in their homeland. Their reputation preceded them, prompting the Russian ambassador, Mr. Charles, to request that your father accommodate them during their initial days in France. So, Taehyung and Namjoon had been working on the possibility of a trade agreement since the notice of their arrival. Plus, their daughter was a friend of yours from boarding school.

“How long will they be staying Marseille?” You asked. 

“We aren’t informed yet, but I assume not long since Mrs DeVergensky health.” Your father reasoned. 

“Thank you so much already for accepting to help, Y/N. We appreciate it.” Mr Kim thanked you sweetly and you enthusiastically nodded. 

You were sent to a boarding school in Switzerland as a young girl. Despite your peers, your father wanted you to have a proper education that made you stand out. Your years in the beautiful Alps were long and enlightening. Now, you were fluent in both German and Russian and had a strong understanding of history and philosophy. All of these made you a very good prospect for Mr Charles, who has been trusting you with his foreign visitors. 

This was also an opportunity to prove yourself and contribute significantly to your family's business ventures. Your proficiency in Russian would undoubtedly play a crucial role, in bridging any potential gaps in communication between the visiting family and your own.

“Despite my fullest enthusiasm to be a diligent host, I want to remind you that their wealth coming from the land cannot be trusted.” You concerningly repeated. The air in the room shifted into a tension. Your mother immediately jumped in, “Darling, it is fine. Everything will be alright at the end.” She gingerly smiled. 

You impatiently gulped, “It is not just an acute incidence, mother. Everyone knows that something big is going to happen over there.” You looked at your father and Mr Kim. “We’ll see another revolution in our life-times, father. People like DeVergensky’s have the power of people they exploit. After the storm, they will have nothing. The Bolsh–” Your words were harshly cut by your mother’s. 

“I think it is enough, Y/N.” She tried to be stern, but you could see the discomfort in her eyes. You couldn’t blame her. She was scared. Nonetheless, the way she interrupted you was rude. Your eyes flickered down in defeat. Your shoulders shrugged. Taehyung held your hand in understanding over the table. His pretty eyes closed in acknowledgement.

“You are right, darling. We must not rely on them for long, but we can’t deny their influence on the King’s household.” Your father valued your point of view dearly and often opposed you to have a better understanding of the situation. 

“He isn’t as affluent as his cousin in London. The Brits got ahead with their cha–” Your words got interrupted again.

“But still there is nothing that concerns us.” Your mother forced. 

You were hot-blooded. You loved to debate. You had the best upbringing for it with hours-long classes just to brainstorm. As the heated words were about to fly out from your mouth, you held them in with a hitch. You decided to completely change the topic for the sake of your family’s well-being. 

“Mrs Marie, can I have my dessert early, please?” You asked as the maids were shuffling. 

Taehyung squeezed your hand one more time and got ready to watch you enjoy a bowl of profiteroles. As the maids rushed to fulfil your request, Taehyung's gaze never left you, filled with an unspoken admiration for you. You gave him a grateful smile, silently conveying your appreciation for his support.

While you waited for your dessert, the conversation gradually shifted to more light-hearted matters. Mr. Kim shared stories about the recent expansions in their upcoming stores, and how difficult it was to train the new staff members they had recently hired.

The tension in the air was replaced with the gentle hum of laughter and the clinking of cutlery. The rich aroma of the freshly prepared profiteroles soon filled the plate as the maids presented the dessert to you with a flourish. Each bite was a delightful explosion of flavours, and you couldn't help but express your satisfaction with an occasional hum of delight.

Taehyung watched you with a contented smile, his gaze lingering on your animated expressions as you savoured each bite. As the delicate dessert graced your taste buds, your eyes lit up with delight, and a soft sigh of satisfaction escaped your lips. Taehyung couldn't help but be captivated by the sheer joy radiating from you, his affectionate gaze following the movement of your hand as you reached for another delectable profiterole.

The gentle glow of the dining room's lights cast a warm ambience over the scene, accentuating the play of emotions on your face. With each bite, your expressions shifted from pure bliss to a hint of mischievousness, as if each taste was a secret pleasure shared between you and the dessert.

Taehyung's contented smile only grew as he observed the subtle nuances of your enjoyment. The way your eyes closed momentarily, basking in the sweet flavours, and the delicate movement of your hand bringing the dessert to your lips created an enchanting sight that he couldn't tear his eyes away from. He couldn’t figure out if you were intentional with the way you gave him a little show. He both wanted and didn’t want his little angel to be tainted. Regardless, he found himself so much amused that he took you out for desserts regularly. He knew that it wasn't just the dessert you were savouring; it was life itself. In these moments, he was reminded of the many reasons he had fallen in love with you – your ability to find beauty in the simplest of pleasures, the way you lit up a room with your presence, and how you turned an ordinary evening into a masterpiece of joy.

Dinner ended very soon after the dessert was served. Not many were keen on having something sweet as they would indulge in wine soon anyway. Before your father called it done, Taehyung cleared his throat, gathering his courage to ask for permission, his eyes flickering to your father. "Mr L/N" he began, a touch of nervousness in his tone, "I was wondering if I could steal Y/N away for a walk. The weather is still so lovely, and I thought it would be nice for us to enjoy it together."

Your father regarded Taehyung with a knowing smile, his eyes twinkling with pride. "Of course, my boy," he replied, his voice warm. He didn’t need to add anything on as he knew Taehyung would take the best care of you.

Taehyung’s mother chimed in with a laugh, her gaze shifting to his son. "We'll be keeping an eye on you, you know."

You felt your cheeks flush at their playful teasing, but you couldn't help but smile at the familiar banter. With a grateful nod to your parents, you stood up, ready to join Taehyung for the strolls he seemed to love. His outstretched hand met yours, and as you intertwined your fingers, you could feel the excitement bubbling within you. The prospect of a quiet walk with Taehyung, under the soft glow of the moon, seemed like the perfect ending to a delightful evening.

—

As you stepped outside, the cool evening air enveloped you, prompting Taehyung to help you into your fur jacket with a tender gesture. His fingers brushed lightly against your skin, eliciting a shiver that had nothing to do with the temperature. You couldn't help but relish the sensation of his warmth surrounding you rather than your rich coat. 

Once you were properly wrapped up, Taehyung linked his arm with yours, and together, you set off on your leisurely walk. He watched your step so closely and held you secure as the terrain was uneven. 

The night was serene, and you both strolled, savouring the peaceful atmosphere. The gardens were bathed in moonlight, and the sound of the gently rustling leaves added to the tranquillity of the moment.

As you and Taehyung wandered through the moonlit garden, you couldn't help but fuss about your long coat concealing your beloved lace dress with open shoulders. You sighed, "Taehyung, I really adore this dress, but this coat hides it completely."

Taehyung, his eyes gleaming like stars, chuckled warmly. "Y/N, as much as I admire your dress, you must also think about keeping warm. It's a chilly night."

You pouted playfully, "But I want to be seen in this dress. It's so lovely."

Taehyung raised an eyebrow with a smirk. "But there's no one here to see it. It's just the two of us."

You grinned mischievously; your eyes locked on his. "Then, you look at it!"

Taehyung's eyes softened as he gave you a gentle scoff. "Well, in that case, let's give your beautiful dress the attention it deserves."

He held your one hand up and twirled you around yourself. Your lace dress with delicate open shoulders exuded an ethereal charm under the soft moonlight. The intricate lacework adorned the fabric, creating an elegant and graceful appearance that perfectly accentuated your natural beauty. The way the dress clung to your form, highlighting your curves in all the right places, left Taehyung mesmerized. “A beautiful princess.” He breathlessly said. 

“Right? I love this dress so much. It is so beautiful.” You patted your waist.

“It is you that is beautiful, darling.” Taehyung pulled you closer, his eyes locked onto yours. You always shied away whenever he got close, lowering your face.

“Well, you were the one who picked this colour and lace for me.” You bit down your lips. 

“Did I?” Taehyung was surprised. There was no possibility to count the gifts he gave you. “That’s why it is my favourite.” You added. 

“My darling…” Taehyung sighed and tipped his chin slightly up, “The moon bathes you in its soft radiance as if you were a celestial being yourself," Taehyung murmured, his voice tender and filled with awe. "Even the flowers in this garden pale in comparison to your grace and beauty. You are truly a vision, my love." 

Your cheeks grew in his hands in an adorable pout, but you didn’t look away. “Taehyung…” You whispered.

He gently traced the delicate lace detailing on your dress, his touch feather-light and respectful. "This dress does justice to your elegance, but it's your heart that truly shines. It's a treasure I'm blessed to cherish every day."

You felt a rush of warmth flood your cheeks at his heartfelt words. "You always have a way with words," you mused, trying to mask the butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

"Only when it comes to you, my dear. You inspire the poet in me." His gaze never wavered, and the sincerity in his eyes made your heart flutter even more.

“Oh, Taehyung.” You were properly charmed and shied away now. “Thank you so much, dar–” You stopped yourself last minute from calling him darling. You didn’t know why it rolled out this easily. 

Taehyung's eyes glimmered with affection as he glanced at you, his gaze warm and understanding. "You almost called me something there," he teased gently, a playful glint in his eye.

Your cheeks flushed with an invisible hue, the sudden realization of what almost slipped from your lips causing you to feel flustered. "I...I mean to," you stammered, your words faltering. "It just...came out."

"It's okay, Y/N," Taehyung reassured, his smile widening. "We don’t have a rush. I just want you to feel safe and loved, darling." He squeezed your hand gently, his touch a comforting reassurance that filled you with warmth.

You gasped at how sensually he said the pet name. 

“You are the only place I feel safe, Taehyung.” You said eyes closed, letting your head rest on Taehyung’s shoulder as he walked your body for you. 

Taehyung's heart swelled with affection as you nestled closer to him, his protective instincts kicking in. "I'm always here for you, Y/N. You can count on me for anything, my love." His voice was tender, conveying a depth of emotion that made your heart flutter.

You lifted your head slightly to meet his gaze, your eyes locking with his in a moment of quiet intimacy. "I trust you, Taehyung," you whispered, your voice barely audible in the evening air. "Please promise me you'll always be honest with me, no matter what."

Taehyung nodded, his expression earnest. "I promise, Y/N. I'll never keep anything from you. You mean the world to me, and I want you to always feel that way."

Your heart swelled with gratitude, feeling the depth of his devotion wash over you. "I do… You make me feel like I own the world.” 

This time it was Taehyung's turn to blush. Thankfully, it was dark so you didn’t realise it. “Well, soon I will…” You cheekily smiled as your hands pressed on his chest, barely feeling his heartbeat. He was closer now, his breath ghosting your cheek as your chest heaved with the sweet proximity. 

The corners of Taehyung's lips quirked up in a playful grin as he leaned in closer, his breath warm against your skin. "Do you think your parents were peeking through the window to catch us in the act?" he teased, his voice barely above a whisper. "I wouldn't be surprised if they were, just to make sure we're upholding the family's traditions."

Your cheeks flushed with warmth, the humour of the situation easing any lingering tension. "I wouldn't put it past them," you chuckled softly, the sound light and carefree. "But I think they trust us enough to know we'll abide by the rules, even when they're not looking."

Taehyung's hand found yours, intertwining his fingers with yours in a gentle, affectionate grip. "I think you're right," he murmured, his gaze soft as it met yours. "But if they were watching, they’d see if you would let me steal a kiss from you.” 

With his words, you shuddered with anticipation. The fact that you didn’t have your first kiss made Taehyung so hungry for you in a way that he could explode. 

“What makes you think I will let you steal a kiss?” You were ever full of banter. Before Taehyung could oppose with something witty, he felt your cold fingers grasp his face. Then, you planted a soft kiss was on the corner of his mouth, where his dimples lay. 

Taehyung felt the ground slip under his feet. It was as if time stood still, the world fading into the background as the sensation of your affection enveloped him completely. His mind raced, trying to process the surge of emotions that swirled within him. He was utterly captivated by the softness of your touch, the lingering warmth that remained on his skin, and the delicate yet powerful message that your gesture conveyed. In that fleeting moment, time seemed to stand still for him.

A surge of excitement coursed through his veins, electrifying every inch of his body. He could feel his heart racing, its steady rhythm disrupted by the sudden rush of adrenaline that pulsed through him. Every nerve in his being seemed to jolt with an overwhelming sense of joy.

The intensity of the moment was etched into his memory, leaving an indelible mark that he knew would linger for a long time. 

After the trick you pulled on him, you had the audacity to giggle right in his face. It was so pleasant to see him affected by your moves. “Do you want to sit on the garden swing?” You asked. 

Taehyung was still speechless. Before Taehyung could find his words, he nodded dreamingly. "I would love that," he managed to say, a hint of wonder still lingering in his voice. As you made your way to the garden swing, he followed you, trying to regain his composure. 

The swing was located on the left side of your gardens, where no one would come to visit so it made an excellent spot for you to hide. Joseph, footmen of your household, built that for you. When Taehyung sat down next to you slowly, the wooden hinge squeaked. There wasn’t enough room for two of you so you sat next to each other body to body.

“Are you cold?” He asked, concern lacing his voice when you pulled your coat tighter around you and got closer to him.

“Just a little,” You admitted with a faint puff of fog that came out of your mouth. 

Taehyung immediately tried to take off his jacket. “No, no, Taehyung it’s fine!” You tried to stop him. “You will be cold as well.” Thankfully, the swing was too small for him to move. 

“Of course not, Y/N. Have my jacket.” There was no question in his mind. 

“Just– Just sit closer and I’ll be fine.” You wrapped your hands around his arms timidly. Taehyung huffed, he wrapped his arm around you, pulling you closer to his side. "Is this better?" he asked, concern evident in his voice.

You nodded, grateful for his warmth. "Much better, thank you," you murmured, leaning into his embrace. As he gently swung the two of you, you couldn't help but feel a sense of security and comfort that only he could provide.

"Y/N," Taehyung began, his voice soft and appreciative, "I wanted to tell you how smart I think you are. Your insights during dinner were truly remarkable. You have such a quick mind, and it's one of the many things I love about you." He was annoyed that your mother disregarded your attempts to make an argument.

Your lips curled down, and a shrug followed. “I try my best.” 

Taehyung shook his head no, his warm breath visible in the crisp night air. "You do more than try, Y/N. You excel. You bring a unique perspective to every conversation, and I find that incredibly attractive."

“Oh, Taehyung.” You were properly charmed and shied away now. “Thank you so much.” You hid your face in his shirt. You couldn't help but appreciate how good he smelled. Taehyung's cologne mixed with his natural scent was a heady combination. Interestingly, the cigarettes he seemed to be eating were gone.

He continued to swing the chair gently, kind of scared that it would break. “So, you know one of the DeVergensky’s?” He asked.

"Yes, their daughter, Nina was in my dorm," you said absentmindedly, your voice almost dreamy as your thoughts lingered on Taehyung's comforting warmth. His strong, protective aura enveloped you, making you feel secure and cherished. A flicker of ambiguity flashed across Taehyung's gaze as he probed further, his eyes narrowing slightly in curiosity and concern.

"Were you good friends?" he inquired, his tone gentle yet intent, as if he was trying to unravel a mystery.

You shrugged, the frown on your face deepening as you reminisced. "Not really," you admitted, your voice tinged with a hint of regret.

"Why not?" Taehyung's curiosity seemed to be piqued, and his protective instincts were on full alert.

"Well, she wasn't the kind of girl I would hang out with," you explained, trying to downplay the significance of your past acquaintance.

"Was she mean to you or did she cause trouble? If yes, it’s gonna be tough to have them around," Taehyung remarked, a note of possessiveness creeping into his words, his protective nature surfacing.

You pulled your face from his chest, meeting his gaze with a playful glint in your eyes. A mischievous giggle bubbled up as you prepared to share the intriguing details. "No, she was fine and, well, she didn’t play pranks on people, but you see... She was very interested in boys. Always had an interesting story to tell.” You giggled. It was so much fun to sit around with the girls and gossip about boys.

Your words seemed to strike a chord with Taehyung, his brows furrowing slightly as he processed the information. A shadow of concern flashed across his features, mingling with a hint of possessiveness.

"So, she was quite popular with the boys, huh?" Taehyung's voice sounded slightly strained, and his grip around you tightened imperceptibly.

You nodded, a playful grin playing on your lips as you recounted the wild stories that circulated in the dorm. "Oh, you wouldn't believe the number of boys she managed to charm," you remarked. You clearly remembered once she went canoeing with a boy and got fallen into the lake. Poor girl came to the dorms with soaked clothes but still didn’t snitch you on the headmaster for helping her skip classes.

A flicker of insecurity flashed in Taehyung's gaze, and his jaw clenched ever so slightly. “How were there any boys in an all-girls boarding school?” 

You giggled, “I wasn’t in a monastery! We could go anywhere we wished on weekends. And well, on weekdays if you were good at jumping.”

Taehyung's eyebrows furrowed slightly, a hint of irritation tugging at his features. "I suppose you girls were quite the little escape artists," His jaw clenched slightly, a subtle sign of his discomfort. "And you? Did you ever... I mean, did you have a lot of attention from boys?" His attempt at nonchalance couldn’t hide the protective edge of his words.

You detached from his side and let your head hang on the chair, eyes looking up to the sky. You would watch the sky a lot in boarding school too, always had one of your friends to chat with.

You playfully nudged him, enjoying the way his gaze lingered on you. "I had my moments," you replied. Taehyung gritted his teeth. His mind went absolutely haywire with all the possibilities… Oh, he was getting angry now. He could imagine how those boys would do everything to charm you. 

You couldn't help but tease Taehyung a little further, not fully realizing the storm of jealousy brewing within him. "No one significant that I can remember." you said, flashing him a sly smile.

He took a deep breath in, hand holding yours to reassure himself you were here with him. He struggled to maintain his composure. "Did any of them... kiss you? Have you... had your first kiss?" he asked, his voice strained.

You paused for a moment, weighing his reaction. “Well…” Taehyung couldn’t play anymore. "Y/N," he began, his voice low and intense. "Have you ever been kissed?" The vulnerability in his eyes pulled at your heartstrings. 

You met his gaze, observing the mix of emotions swirling in his eyes. “No…” You clearly answered him. 

Relief flooded Taehyung's features, the tension in his shoulders visibly melting away. His eyes, once clouded with doubt and jealousy, now sparkled with gratitude and reassurance. The creases that had formed on his forehead softened, and his lips curved into a gentle smile.

You could almost feel the weight lifted off his chest as he exhaled, the air carrying his pent-up anxiety and worry with it.

You found his relaxed face almost annoying. “Did you have your first kiss, Taehyung?” You asked bitingly. 

Taehyung's mouth hung slightly ajar as he processed your biting question. The momentary relaxation in his expression shattered, replaced by a sense of discomfort and regret. His mind raced, grappling with the memory of his past interactions as he was quite experienced in the same milestones. 

You annoyingly giggled, your voice had zero joy with the same jealousy that poisoned Taehyung. 

The silence between you grew thick, the air charged with unspoken words and unresolved tension. It was as if your question had opened a door to a place neither of you was fully prepared to explore. In the midst of this emotional turmoil, you both were faced with the raw reality of your individual pasts and the consequences they held.

After a lengthy pause, Taehyung finally spoke, his voice laced with vulnerability. “Y/N," he said, his eyes seeking yours with sincerity. The past is... well, the past. What's important is the present and our future together."

Your gaze met his, and while a trace of lingering hurt remained in your eyes, there was also a glimmer of understanding. You sighed, relenting to the power of your emotions. "You're right.” You nodded understandingly. 

Taehyung could almost read your mind as your mind got lost in possibilities. He was sad that he upset you. “There is only you now. I only see you, darling…” He turned his whole body to you, still holding your hand like a lifeline. You looked down to his hand grasping yours up to his face. 

“You better.” You warned him, the playful warning in your voice laced with a hint of vulnerability and annoyance. 

“Y/N…” Taehyung called your name in a serious tone. He engulfed your cold hands in his large ones and brought them to his lips. “Please look at me…” He whispered; his warm lips caressing your knuckles. You looked at Taehyung’s face. He was so handsome. His warm, honeyed eyes held an ocean of emotions, each glance capturing your attention and igniting a fire within you. The gentle curve of his lips seemed to beckon you closer, inviting you into a world of comfort and safety. His strong, defined jawline exuded confidence, complementing the softness of his gaze and lending an air of mystery to his already magnetic aura.

Every time you saw Taehyung, your heart would race, and a feeling of pure, innocent love would wash over you. He was the embodiment of your childhood dreams, the prince from your favourite fairy tales, and the protector who would always be there to keep you safe. 

Taehyung opened his mouth to search for words that seemed to pour out his heart so gently and smoothly. This time he fell short on sophisticated words and spoke his one and only truth. “I love you so much.” 

Your heart skipped a beat at Taehyung's heartfelt confession. It was a simple declaration, devoid of any elaborate language, but its sincerity and depth resonated with you. You closed your eyes to not let your tears fall down. You didn’t realise you were on the brink of crying. “Darling?” When he worriedly cupped your face, your cry grew even larger. 

You took deep breaths to calm yourself to answer him. With a shaky voice, you replied, “I love you too, Taehyung, more than I can express."

His intense gaze held yours, and in that profound moment, his own tears spilt over. You watched as they trailed down his cheeks, a poignant reflection of the depth of his feelings. His tender touch cradled your face, his thumb brushing away the tears that escaped your own eyes. He leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead, a gesture of solace and unwavering devotion. In that shared vulnerability, he leaned down and placed a soft kiss upon your forehead, a silent pledge of devotion. You find your way into his embrace and place your head on his chest. Your face pressed onto his neck as pressed you to himself. “I promise I will be so good to you, my love. I will continue to worship you. 

The night continued to envelop you both in its embrace, the bond between you strengthened by the unspoken words. You held each other until both of you stopped crying and the night grew colder. It was time to take you back inside. 

Taehyung helped you get up and walked you back to the house. When the two of you entered the house, your family's laugh was filling the estate. As you and Taehyung entered the warmth of the house, the familiar sound of laughter, the hearty, rich laughter of your families, enveloped you like a comforting embrace. It was a sound that bespoke joy and shared bonds, a sound that resonated with the harmony of relationships cherished over time. You glanced at Taehyung, his eyes still glistening with traces of the tears that had fallen moments before. In that gaze, you found an unspoken understanding, a silent vow to protect the love that had blossomed between you.

Your families, upon seeing the two of you, erupted into gentle teasing and knowing smiles, their eyes filled with the warmth of affection. Your mother, with an endearing twinkle in her eye, ushered you both toward the crackling fireplace. She insisted that you both sit and warm yourselves, ensuring that you were well cared for in the tender glow of the fire. 

As you settled into the comfort of the ottoman with Taehyung sitting right beside you. His arm was wrapped around your waist to provide you backrest while engaged in conversation with your father. The sight of him engaging with your family, the ease with which he blended into the dynamic, only served to deepen your love for him.

Taehyung’s mother called out, her eyes twinkling mischievously. "Have you two been having a good cry out there?"

Taehyung’s father joined in, a playful glint in his eye. "Ah, the young ones must be experiencing the emotional rollercoaster of young love. Did you shed a tear, Taehyung?"

You exchanged a quick, knowing glance with Taehyung, a silent understanding passing between you. "Cry? Us?" you retorted, feigning innocence. "Of course not! We were just enjoying the beauty of the night, weren't we, Taehyung?"

"Absolutely," Taehyung agreed, his voice laced with a chuckle. "No tears, just the beauty of the night sky."

Your parents and Taehyung's parents shared knowing glances, their eyes sparkling with amusement as they exchanged playful remarks.

Taehyung's mother chimed in, a mischievous grin playing on her lips. "It seems like our children are already practising the art of melodrama." 

Taehyung laughed a rich and hearty sound that echoed through the room. "We're just enjoying the fresh air, I assure you. No drama here, not yet at least." 

Your mother chuckled, playfully shaking her head. "Well, you both look like you've been crying." 

You couldn't help but join in the laughter, feeling the warmth of the familial banter surrounding you. "It’s just same old Taehyung… always making me cry.” Your voice came out hoarse due to crying previously. Taehyung chuckled next to you as he rubbed the small of your back gently. 

“So, we assume two of you made up your minds?” Mr Kim asked you gently. He saw you his second daughter, acting more carefully than your own parents.

Taehyung looked at you for the answer. He had decided years ago. 

You looked at him and down to your hands. You took a deep breath, then met Mr. Kim's eyes with a sense of conviction. "We've talked about it, Mr. Kim. And yes, we have made up our minds." Your words were met with a chorus of smiles and nods from both sets of parents, and you felt a wave of support and understanding wash over you. Taehyung squeezed your back, his heart fluttering like a baby bird. 

“Ah, Y/N!” Taehyung’s mother rushed to your side and pulled you into a hug. “You were always a part of our family. Now, you will be my daughter too!” Her excitement brought back the tears to you.  

When she let you go, your mischievous side decided to play again. You look at your parents. “But I have one condition.” 

Everyone's eyes widened in surprise, their expressions shifting from curiosity to mild concern as they tried to anticipate your condition. Taehyung's grip tightened around your hand, his gaze fixed on you, a mix of anxiety and excitement flickering in his eyes.

You cleared your throat dramatically, as if about to make a life-altering announcement. "I want Taehyung to propose to me." you declared.

A collective gasp of relief and laughter filled the room. Taehyung's heart, which had momentarily felt like it was about to burst from his chest, now seemed to flutter with both relief and amusement.

Your families chatted amongst themselves at your silliness as Taehyung turned to you with a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Oh, really? That's your condition?"

You nodded with a teasing smile. "It is. I want a romantic, down-on-one-knee proposal, with all the clichés – a ring, flowers, and a heartfelt speech."

Taehyung feigned surprise, his hand on his chest. "Well, if that's what it takes to have you as my wife, I guess I have no choice."

The families watched with affectionate smiles, happy for the love that had grown between you.

His mother clapped her hands excitedly. "Well, let's not waste any more time, shall we? I have a feeling we're going to have a lot of planning to do!"

Oh, you did have a lot of planning to do. Starting from the next morning too. 

—

The next morning, even before your father’s wake-up time, your mother came knocking on your door. Last night you couldn’t stay awake until the Kims left and fell asleep on the ottoman near the fireplace. Taehyung was amused by how sleepy you got and sat on the floor and watched you sleep while the conversation grew into past midnight. Even though he was eager to carry you to your bed, your mother complained while she tugged you upstairs like a doll. After that you couldn’t fall asleep, swam between dreams and consciousness, your body clearly yearning for Taehyung’s comfort. As a result, when your mother came to wake you up, you were upset, to say the least. Apparently, Julia, your families’ dressmaker was coming today and you had to be at Kim’s this morning. 

You hate to be disturbed while sleeping. It reminded you of your school days but got dressed without complaining. Your maids were extra glad that you were sleepy and didn’t make a fuss about how you looked. You weren’t dressed in an intricate dress as you were going to be changing in and out of clothes all day. However, the thin and flowy dress wasn’t made for a crispy morning. Even though the carriage was closed on all sides, you were shaking from the wind. 

“I didn’t know Julia was coming today. When did Mrs Kim booked it?” You asked your mother as you pulled your cloak securely over your head to avoid cold weather outside. 

“We’ve been out of our minds because of you and Taehyung’s engagement! But don't worry dear, we will order dresses for the ceremonies we will attend with our guests. But maybe you want to look at a few wedding dress models, what do you think?” Your mother squealed like a young girl, face plastered with a large smile. 

You nodded and let the carriage swaddle you like a baby and lull you into a nap. Unfortunately or fortunately, Kim's mansion wasn’t that far away, and once again you were brutally woken. You somehow carried yourself into the front door, thankfully your driver stopped the carriage right beside the door. 

Kim's household wasn’t fully awake as the fireplace wasn’t even lit yet. As you stood with a pout on your lips, contemplating whether to go to the kitchen to warm up, Mrs Kim greeted you still in her nightwear. “Y/N! Good morning!” She welcomed you in a hug. 

“I am sorry for waking you up this early, but Julia will be here very early and we have so much to do!” Their enthusiasm was to be taken as an example. You looked at her through your sleepy eyes, wondering if she would let you go for now. 

And she did.

“Why don’t you go and wake Taehyung up? Or you can watch him sleep just like he did for the whole night.” She patted your arms, remembering his dear son’s affection for you. 

Suddenly, you were wide awake. 

As you moved through the lavish Kim mansion, the ornate walls adorned with intricate paintings and gilded mirrors, the sense of opulence surrounded you. The soft carpet beneath your feet absorbed the sound of your hurried steps, and the subtle scent of fresh flowers from the nearby vases filled the air.

Reaching Taehyung's chambers, you stood before the ornate door, its intricate carvings a testament to the family's refined taste. The richly decorated walls were adorned with intricate tapestries and historical paintings, the vibrant colours catching your eye as you made your way towards Taehyung's wing. The faint scent of polished wood and the delicate fragrance of flowers in vases added to the luxurious ambience, creating an atmosphere of refined elegance. You knocked gently, and there was a rustling sound from within. The door opened slightly, and Taehyung peered out, expecting to see one of the footmen. 

His eyes widened in surprise and delight as he saw you, and for a moment, he was rendered speechless. The morning light filtering through the window highlighted the strong contours of his puffy face, his tousled hair lending him a slightly disheveled yet utterly attractive appearance. You couldn't help but feel your heart skip a beat as you took in his tall, commanding figure, dressed in a finely tailored suit that emphasized his powerful build.

"Y/N?" he exclaimed, momentarily taken aback by your unexpected visit. "What a wonderful surprise!" The hint of excitement in his voice was unmistakable as he ushered you inside, his warm gaze never leaving your face.

You groaned out when he invited you into his warm wing. The fireplace was burning with full power, most probably fire was started an hour ago. “I was freezing…” You mumbled and let Taehyung guide you into his couch. 

“Oh, my darling…” He cooed your face. “It is so chilly in the mornings, right? You should have woken me up. I would have been here to warm you up."

You leaned into his touch, relishing the way his presence brought immediate comfort. “We just came.” You mumbled into his cream shirt. 

“What is the reason, my darling?” He asked as you melted in his chest even though it seemed like your back was straining from hugging him.

“Hmm… The dressmaker will come today.” Why wasn’t your bed this comfortable?

Taehyung leaned back on the couch, letting you get comfortable on his chest. When you found your perfect spot like a cat, his hand caressed your face. “Are you feeling better now, my little ice cube?” He teased you.

You snuggled deeper into him, enjoying the warmth that emanated from both the crackling fireplace and Taehyung's proximity. “Much better now, thank you,” you quipped, a playful twinkle in your voice. "Maybe I should just move in here permanently.”

Taehyung hissed at the offer. His head dropped back as he let out a groan. He would fucking want that so much. You in his room, in his bed… to have you in his naked arms… oh, to have his way with you. Your body was already so soft to his touch, that he could feel your shape to his hold. Mornings were a bad time for you to be around him. He had just stopped dreaming about you, and now you were in his arms in reality. 

“But I don’t think I can ever let you go if I stay here.” You lifted your face in his hands and looked up to him. Taehyung gently kissed your forehead. “I am here as long as you want.” 

His kiss made wonders to you. It seemed like your grumpiness was eradicated with his lips on your forehead. 

That’s when you decided to bless him with another kiss. You puckered your lips and planted a soft kiss on Taehyung’s cheek. “Good morning, darling.” You rasped. 

Taehyung's breath hitched at the sound of your voice, his eyes widening with a mix of surprise and unmistakable adoration. His lips parted slightly as he drank in the sight of you, the soft morning light casting a gentle glow on your face. The husky rasp of your voice only added to the allure, sending a shiver down his spine. Despite his infatuation, he needed to leave your embrace before you felt his secret hiding inside his pants. 

But he couldn’t bring himself to let you go. “Good morning.” His voice was raspier, waking up the feelings within you that no man was allowed to. 

“Will you be picking pretty dresses for me, love?” Taehyung needed to get you out of his mind. 

You nodded with quite a mumble. You held Taehyung’s hand on your face. You rubbed your face onto him like a cat and planted a kiss on his palm. When your fingers delicately wrapped around his, Taehyung was so scared that he was dreaming. 

“I can maybe pick a few things for my bridal gown too…” You sheepishly smiled at the possibilities. “Also, for the affairs with our guests…” Taehyung was almost sure you were fully asleep. “Maybe I can pick something pretty to go out with you…” You sniffed and stopped murmuring.

Taehyung took a mental note to leave a fat cheque to his mother for your expenses. You were to be his wedded wife, his everything, so he needed to provide for you starting from now. 

“That’s sounds amazing, darling. Make sure you don’t get too tired, okay?” He gently scolded you. You nodded. 

Taehyung hissed at your obedient nature. He really needed you to stop pushing his buttons. 

“Why don’t you get into my bed, sweetie? I need to leave now, but I’ll come early.” With gentle guidance, Taehyung led you to his bedroom, the atmosphere exuding a comforting warmth that embraced you as you crossed the threshold. The room was bathed in a soft morning glow, and his cologne lingered in the air, creating an intimate ambience that wrapped around you like a familiar embrace. He helped you remove your cloak, the heavy fabric was the only thing to keep your fragile body warm. “Sit down, sweetie.” He whispered and sat you down on his bed. He didn’t remember if it was in accordance with etiquette to have you like this, and he didn’t give a fuck. When you sat down, he helped you out of your shoes and  Taehyung smoothed the covers around you, ensuring you were snug and cosy. His bed, adorned with a plush comforter and a pile of fluffy pillows, looked especially inviting with smell still lingering on the pillow. 

You hummed and buried your face into his pillow, legs rubbing against the smooth bedsheets. 

Taehyung stood in the doorway; his gaze fixed on your serene form. He didn’t trust himself to stand closer as he was yearning for your soft touch already. 

A rush of tenderness and protectiveness enveloped him, stirring an instinctual urge to safeguard you from any harm that might dare to disrupt your peaceful slumber.

Taehyung smoothed his clothes, and put on his jacket. He straightened his tie and walked to his desk. His chequebook was in the drawer. He put a large number on the paper and put it in his pocket.

He left his wing with a prayer to have every day of his life like this morning. Your mother and his were downstairs in the small drawing room. Housekeepers were preparing the large room for the dressmaker. 

“Good morning ladies.” Taehyung’s voice was full of confidence. 

He announced his presence to your mother and his. They were sitting down with tea in their hands.  

“I see, you couldn’t let your lover go easily. Your father has already left.” Mrs Kim smiled at his son. 

Taehyung nodded. He didn’t care what happened as long as he spent time with you. 

"It’s fine. Y/N is still resting in my room. I request you'd let her sleep a bit more," Taehyung explained, a soft smile gracing his lips as he spoke of you. "I don't want her to be disturbed."

Mrs. Kim's eyes softened with understanding, her gaze conveying an unspoken warmth and affection for you. "Of course, Taehyung. I won't disturb her. She's like my own daughter, you know that," she replied, reaching out to squeeze his hand reassuringly. 

Taehyung nodded, touched by his mother's words. He then reached into his pocket and withdrew the cheque, he slid down the table towards his mother.

"This is for Y/N," he explained. "Please make sure she gets everything she likes. I know you and Dad will cover, but I want her to have the freedom to choose whatever she wants." As he spoke, a sense of determination and protectiveness emanated from him, accentuating the weight of his words. 

Your mother and Mrs Kim shared a knowing look. They were amused at how protective and caring Taehyung got. 

"Of course, Taehyung. I'll make sure she has everything she needs," she reassured him, her voice laced with warmth and affection.

“I will come early.” With a final nod and a small smile, Taehyung turned to head out, his mind not in full ease, wondering if you were cold, if you were hungry. 

—

Despite his promise, Taehyung’s work seemed to stretch over the lunch. Normally, he would leave his office whenever he pleased, but he was going to be a man of a household; therefore, he needed to be more patient. 

He placed his arms on his desk, over the files lying on his deck and closed his eyes. You appeared in his head. The images in his head sometimes were memories of the past, sometimes visions of the future but they all had you in their centre. 

Taehyung's mind drifted away from the documents on his desk, and soon, his office became a canvas for his daydreams. Vivid images of you sleeping peacefully in his bed flooded his thoughts. He imagined the gentle rise and fall of your chest as you breathe, the soft curls of your hair splayed across the pillows, and the delicate curve of your lips, set in a serene expression. 

As he continued to lose himself in the trance, Taehyung envisioned himself lying next to you in the bed, arms wrapped around your soft, warm body. Your limbs entangled into his, your breath on his neck. He imagined kissing your forehead like the little princess you are. You were his pretty baby. Then, he would kiss all over your pretty face to wake you up. He almost heard your little laugh. 

Taehyung wouldn’t stop kissing your face.  Oh, he wouldn’t… He would beg you to steal kisses on your neck. He knew if he kissed your neck once, he wouldn’t be able to stop.

He would whisper in your ear, “Baby…” You’d let him continue obediently. Then, he would kiss down your throat, and bite your collar bones. He’d lick your delicious skin and suck little bruises to show everyone. By then you’d be wide awake. “Does that feel good, baby?” He’d ask.

Your whimper would be so soft, “Taehyung… It–” 

He wouldn’t let you stop your sentence and suck your nipple into his mouth. Your knobby nipple would feel delicious in his mouth. He’d kiss your breasts for minutes on end as your thighs rubbed to his knee. Your cries would fill his ear, “Tae.. What are you doing to me?” Taehyung is going to be the first and only man to satisfy your needy desires so he’ll explain to you everything your body craves. 

“I am making love to you, sweet girl.” He’d inform despite your dirty mind that imaged this repeatedly. Your hands would tug at his hair and you would bless him with a moan. “Taetae…” Your cries would be loud and he’d have to busy your mouth. 

He would whisper, “Dirty girl… Why are you moaning? You like your fiancée doing unholy things to you, hmm?” Then, he’d bite your bottom lip but your cries would only grow louder. 

Then, the only thing that would suffice would be Taehyung’s fingers in your mouth. “Open up, cry baby.” You’d follow his request like an obedient slut you are. Taehyung would only place one finger in your warm, wet mouth.

“Fuck… Such a warm mouth… Suck on it, baby. Keep your mouth shut, my pretty girl.” You’d nod.

Taehyung’d add, “And let me play with this little pussy. Can I touch you there, baby?” Taehyung knows you are a virgin so he’d ease you into it.

“Y-yes, p-please.” You’d whimper like a fragile bird.

“Oh, such a polite lady.” But he’d treat you the opposite of a lady. First, he would feel you over your garments, “Fucking drenched! You’re very excited right, baby? Hmm? I am too.” 

After a few kisses to soothe you, he’d start stirring little circles over your clit. As the cute bundle would be deprived of any stimulation, even the smallest touch would turn you crazy. 

“Tae…” You’d moan around his drenched finger.

“Hush!” He’d continue with a quicker tempo, scared of getting caught. “Do you want to climax, darling?” He’d mockingly ask you as your eyes largen. “Do you know what that means?” 

When you pliantly nod, he’d punish you for knowing what it is. “Oh, you do? I thought my sweet girl was innocent… I guess you can show me how it is done, right?”

With enough stimulation on your poor clit, you would experience your first real high in front of Taehyung’s eyes. He’d watch you as your face crumbled into pleasure and bite his finger off.  

The sound of the door opening snapped him back to reality, and Taehyung's cheeks flushed as he hastily straightened in his chair. “Well, well, well.” Jimin rushed into his office, catching Taehyung slacking. 

Jimin's excited voice filled the room, drawing attention to the news of the forthcoming wedding. 

“I was gone for two weeks, and I came back to have my best friends engaged to each other.” Jimin shook his head cutely as he sat down in front of the desk.

Taehyung chuckled as he sat back, “We aren’t technically engaged yet.” He pressed his lips together. “Miss Y/N wants me to propose her first.” 

Jimin's eyebrows shot up in amusement. "Oh, the mademoiselle got her demands already, huh?" He leaned back in his chair, a mischievous glint in his eye. He looked at Taehyung’s infatuated face. “She already has you wrapped around her finger, doesn’t she?” 

Taehyung laughed with a soft and carefree sound that echoed through the room. "You have no idea," he admitted, his eyes sparkling with affection. "But I wouldn't have it any other way. I'd do anything to see that smile on her face."

“You were always like this, nothing new.” Jimin said. he teased, a reminiscent glint in his eyes. "Remember that time at the park when you made my tooth fall out because I scared Y/N with a frog I caught?”

Taehyung's face lit up with a mischievous grin. "Oh, how could I forget? You had it coming by scaring her like that." He laughed, the memory vivid in his mind. 

"Y/N was so scared, she wouldn't even talk to me for a week after that." Jimin chuckled along, remembering the incident vividly. "You were always looking out for her, even back then." Jimin's eyes softened with the shared memory.

Taehyung smiled, filled with nostalgia and gratitude. "Well, Y/N is very special to me, and I'll always try to keep her safe and happy."

Jimin nodded. "You two are meant for each other." His eyes welled for his best mate. He was so glad that the two of you figured it out despite your stubbornness. "Well, you better not keep her waiting for that ring. You wouldn't want to start off on the wrong foot with the future Mrs Kim, would you?"

Taehyung took a deep breath, his eyes gleaming with excitement. "I am thinking of a way to propose her. I want to do it when she least expects it."

“Well, you are Mr Poet for a reason. I am sure we will figure something out.” Jimin teased as he offered Taehyung a cigarette. 

Taehyung shook his head no, “Y/N doesn’t like the smell of cigs.”

Jimin rolled his eyes, “Changed my mind, Mr Devoted!” 

Old friends laughed together and chatted about Jimin’s travels. Taehyung envied his best friend’s endless trips and wished to make them with you in future. 

—

Meanwhile, at Kim's estate, you had been trying on different fabrics for what seemed like hours. The bustle of activity never seemed to subside with excited gasps and humming of the dressmaker’s sewing machine crafting lining and moulds of the dresses you envisioned. 

Julia always had her charm and creativity with her. Even after being widowed, she was able to support herself as no man could with her captivating skills. She had known you since you came from Switzerland and she was quick to pick up on your style and taste. After a 10-minute chat, she placed sketches of her visions in front of you.

You put your teacup down, “They look wonderful…” 

The first dress they contemplated was a true masterpiece. A floor-length ball gown in a deep and rich burgundy shade, it seemed to embody sophistication and grace. The bodice was a masterpiece of lace, adorned with intricate patterns that seemed like they were inspired by the garden's most delicate roses. The lace flowed down to the full, voluminous skirt. 

The second dress you examined was equally enchanting, though more charmingly and playfully. It was a tea-length gown in a soft pastel blue. Delicate embroidery and intricate beadwork adorned the neckline and sleeves.

Then was the most special dress, the one you wished to wear to your engagement party. You want it to be simple and elegant. You want Taehyung to look at you and fall in love with you again and again, desperately want you as his wife. The coloured, off-the-shoulder satin dress with the soft, lustrous fabric draped delicately over your frame, subtly highlighting your natural curves. You could imagine Taehyung’s eyes fluttering as his manly hands gently caressed your skin. His hands were usually shy, not wanting to scare you away, but his eyes were always hungry, eating your clothes away. You want to make him loose control of his hands and hold you forever.

After making a few changes, you were stripped to your undergarments whilst Julia expertly took measurements and diligently sewed the initial drafts of your clothes. 

Taehyung's mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, all leading back to you, as he left work early, unable to focus on anything but the thought of your company. The horse-drawn carriage took him swiftly back home.

As Taehyung's carriage neared the Kim estate, the magnificent stone walls came into view, bathed in the warm, golden hues of the setting sun. The ivy-covered facade of the mansion lent a timeless, almost ethereal beauty to the entire scene.

The sound of horses' hooves on the cobblestones echoed through the trees that lined the estate's long driveway, creating a rhythmic melody that seemed to serenade Taehyung on his journey home. The crisp, country air bore hints of blooming flowers and freshly mown grass, adding to the sense of serenity.

He couldn't help but gaze out of the carriage window, the anticipation of seeing you making his heart race. As the carriage rolled closer to the grand entrance, the intricately designed wrought iron gates came into full view. 

He couldn't help but daydream about the life he envisioned building with you in this very estate. The thought of having children, watching them grow and play in these very gardens he spent his childhood in. The laughter of his own kids echoing through the estate was a scene he couldn't wait to witness.

And beyond that, he imagined you both growing old together in this tranquil sanctuary. Walking hand in hand in the evening, sharing stories of your adventurous youth, and cherishing the quiet moments. The years passed together, creating a tapestry of shared memories.

The carriage came to a gentle stop, the footman leaping down to assist Taehyung out. Stepping onto the cobblestones, Taehyung paused to appreciate the meticulously manicured gardens and the estate's stately exterior. The transition from the bustling city to the tranquil beauty of the Kim estate was always a sensory delight.

As he entered the estate, the air felt different, charged with excitement and a sense of bustling activity. He heard the faint chatter of voices and the rustle of fabrics. Making his way through the elegant hallways, he followed the sound to the sitting room, where the usual calm ambience was replaced by vivacious energy.

His heart quickened as he caught sight of you, surrounded by your mother and Mrs Kim, standing on the platform with only a skimpy gown on that did so little to cover your skin. You were wearing something close to nightwear, something that you would wear to bed and for his eyes only. With your bare legs, the sheer fabric did almost nothing to cover your skin. Gladly, the fireplace was well-lit to keep you warm. And yet, you were standing in front of the living room like a doll. Julia was bent towards your side stitching a draft for the bust. 

He felt his throat dry. Taehyung was sure he wasn’t allowed to see you like this yet.  He stood by the door, taking a moment to simply observe you before anyone noticed. Adjusting his cufflinks, smoothing down his waistcoat and most importantly his trousers, he took a deep breath, bracing himself for the joyous chaos that awaited him.

He coughed, “Am I allowed, ladies?”

Taehyung's sudden appearance startled the ladies, and a faint blush crept onto your cheeks as you quickly tried to adjust your gown, which earned you a notice from Julia.

Your mother kissed him welcome. “Of course, what a question!” His mother was too busy talking to one of the apprentices, describing something urgently whilst holding a gorgeous blue satin.

“Taehyung!” You welcomed with him the brightest smile. He noticed your body wanting to jump towards him.

“You're always allowed, Mr Kim,” Julia said before giving her all attention to you. “So, you don’t want it to end here, Miss Y/N?” 

“Exactly. I don’t like it when the back ends there. It gives me a weird hump.” You explained you turned your back to your viewers to show Julia what you were talking about. 

The piece of fabric you were wearing was a very basic draft of a bust so it could be folded and reshaped. Julia watched you through the mirror. She nodded. 

“I say we go either all the way up–” You pulled the extra fabric to your shoulders. “–or just backless.” 

Julia nodded, her expression thoughtful as she observed the garment. "I completely understand your concern, Miss Y/N. A backless design can be very elegant, especially for someone of your age. It just looks so beautiful.” She sighed before placing the needles to adjust the draft. 

Taehyung further concentrated on you and your bare back. Your muscles were strained as Julia worked very close to your skin. Taehyung gritted his teeth; he was scared of needles hurting you.

“I think Mr Kim might fire me if I accidentally prick you, Miss Y/N.” Julia joked. 

Taehyung gave her half a chuckle, “I am afraid I might.” Taehyung’s serious tone was hilarious to you. Julia has been your family’s dressmaker for over five years and she has never pricked you before. 

Taehyung carefully observed the way the dressmaker draped the fabric, her fingers working with such precision that every stitch seemed to be an extension of her artistry. Taehyung's admiration for the craft was only surpassed by the adoration he felt for the woman at the centre of it all – you, his beloved.

Despite the temptation to gaze at you without restraint, he remained resolute in keeping his demeanour composed. He knew he mustn't give in to his desire to drink in your ethereal beauty, not with so many eyes upon the two of you. Instead, he opted to immerse himself in the vibrant energy of the room, cherishing the moments that would soon become cherished memories of a love that knew no bounds.

After the rough shape of the draft was done, the bust was taken off your body. You quickly wrapped yourself in a more modest dressing gown to cover more skin. Julia retreated to the sewing machine as Taehyung’s mother approached you. 

“Y/N.” She called your name while holding a deep sapphire fabric. “I want to get this dress for you as a gift for the gala. I think the colour will suit you so perfectly, my darling daughter. This could be one of yours something blue! You don’t have to wear it if you don’t like it, okay? I am– I am just so happy that you blessed our family.”

You genuinely could see her happy. Her eyes have been teary since you pulled yourself out from Taehyung’s bed fully rested, and accepting her offers to allow her to spoil you. You knew she was already extra emotional since her daughter, Taehyung’s sister, was away in a boarding school, so she had really missed having mother-daughter time. 

Taehyung's heart swelled with an overwhelming sense of contentment as he observed you and his mother exchanging heartfelt words. He cherished these moments, seeing the woman he loved wholeheartedly embraced by the family that meant everything to him. The deep connection between you and his mother reaffirmed his belief that you truly belonged in his life and in the Kim family estate.

He marvelled at the way you expressed your gratitude and warmth, reciprocating his mother's affection with such genuine appreciation. It was a sight that reinforced his belief that you were the missing piece in their family puzzle, the one who brought a different kind of joy and completeness to their lives.

"Mother, enough now," Taehyung chuckled as Mrs. Kim embraced you tightly, her eyes glistening with tears. His playful jealousy extended even to his own mother, it seemed. You joined Taehyung's laughter as he gently pulled you away from his mother's loving embrace.

"Stop making fun of your old woman! You don't understand how much this means to me," she sniffed, her voice wavering with emotion.

Taehyung intercepted your attempt to hug her again by your arm, his expression shifting to a more serious tone that you couldn't quite decipher. "Taehyung?" you queried, looking at his firm hold on you.

"You both are lucky to have each other," she said, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. “I am so happy.” She added.

Your mother came to soothe her friend, Taehyung released his touch. “My friend, we have a long time to enjoy their happiness. It is your turn now.”

As Mrs. Kim's maid entered the living room, Taehyung knew it was time to leave. You made a quick decision to accompany him. "Taehyung?" you called out, stopping him in his tracks. "Can I have some of your time?" Your voice was tinged with a hint of shyness.

Taehyung turned to face you, his expression softening. "Of course, my darling. I came early to see you."

"Okay, that's awesome," you stammered, feeling slightly flustered. "Just give me some time to change my clothes." You hurried to keep up with his stride.

Taehyung nodded, his gaze gentle and understanding. "I'll change as well. I'll be waiting for you in the library near the guest rooms."

You bit your lip nervously, hesitating before adding, "My clothes are actually in your room. The maids were cleaning the main guest room, and your mother allowed me to use your room." With very frequent trips to each other’s home, the main guest room was always reserved as your room at Kim’s estate. As your position in the family changed, Mrs Kim allowed you to have Taehyung’s room. In addition, Julia brought the previous month’s order so Taehyung’s chamber was big enough to hold them.

Taehyung's eyebrows raised slightly, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes. "Is that so?" he replied, a sly smile forming on his lips. "Well, I guess we have to be roommates.” He giggled as he noticed your uneven breath as you walked to match his speed. He slowed down immediately. “Feel free to use anything you need; my room is yours. You know that." As the two of you ambled towards his room. 

Taehyung's steps were deliberately slow now. "Were you able to sleep, my darling?" His voice carried a tender concern, highlighting the depth of his care.

You felt a surge of warmth at his attention, the way he noticed every detail about you. Nervously, you bit your lip, you craved his simplest touch since this morning. You touched his elbow, begging him silently to understand what you were going to do. His intense gaze locked onto you, his expression a mixture of curiosity and tenderness. Your heart skipped a beat, and in a moment of desperate need, you reached for him, intertwining your arm with his, the connection soothing your nerves.

"Oh, darling…" Taehyung's voice was laced with amusement and affection. He lifted your hand, gently pressing his lips to the back of it in a tender kiss. Then, secure your arm in his. You answered him with a pleasant hum. Even the littlest change made your mind calm down with the desire to touch him

A shy smile graced your lips as you gazed up at him. "Yes, I slept amazingly." You whispered softly, finally answering his question. “In fact, I don’t think I slept this good in a while. Your bed was so comfortable.” 

“That’s amazing, my love. I am glad you liked where you will be sleeping in future.” he teased, his voice a smooth murmur that set your heart alight. His thumb continued to trace gentle circles on the back of your hand, a subtle yet intimate connection that sent delightful shivers down your spine.

He was being extra flirtatious because he knew you were easy to shy away and it amused him dearly. Even though your lips didn’t say it, he could see your body yearned for him.

Taehyung’s chamber was slightly rearranged to fit your new clothes as the maids scurried about, meticulously arranging your belongings on Taehyung's tasteful furniture, ensuring that your clothes remained impeccably neat. The room seemed to come alive with your presence despite the mess, and Taehyung's delight was evident as he watched his personal space intertwine with your essence. Even his belongings liked you. 

“Oh lord…” You whined. “I am sorry, Taehyung. I thought they were going to pack them for me.” Taehyung let your arm go as you covered your face. 

“That’s totally fine, my darling. Everything I own is yours. You can make every change your heart desires.” You peeked through your fingers, catching the affectionate glimmer in his eyes, and couldn't help but feel overwhelmed by his unwavering support and generosity. His genuine words resonated deeply within you. 

The head of the maids spoke. “Miss Y/N, will you be changing now?” 

You nodded. “I will be, please stay to help me.” 

She bowed and closed the door, waiting for your sign. 

"Take your time, my love. I will wait for you outside," Taehyung gently encouraged, his warm breath grazing your skin as he leaned in to press a tender kiss on your forehead. Soft and affectionate, his touch conveyed a silent reassurance that filled you with warmth.

He pulled back slightly, his voice barely audible as he murmured, "I will take you out later, pretty girl." You looked up to him with excited eyes and lips curved into a smile. His gaze held yours for a lingering moment as you nodded. With a last, lingering glance, he turned and left his room to leave you to get ready.

—

You quickly got in one of your new dresses. You chose a dusty pink tea dress with cream-coloured heels. Taehyung didn’t take too long to change from his work suit to a casual one while you brushed your hair and powdered your face. 

As promised, he was ready to take you out after his sudden disappearance for 15 minutes. He showed his gentlemanly attitude when he asked your mother for permission to take you out despite knowing he would be granted. 

And yet, Mrs Kim cautioned the two of you not to get too close since the engagement hadn't been formally announced yet. Taehyung responded respectfully, assuring her, "I don't think it will be a problem, Mother. But do not worry, I would never do anything to damage Y/N's honor." With a bow to both mothers, he then took your hand. 

"Are you ready, my dear?" he asked, guiding you toward the waiting carriage. You allowed him to lead you, relishing the sensation of his strong, yet tender grip. As he helped you up into the carriage, you playfully teased, "Why would you lie to your mother, Taehyung?"

He recognised the teasing in your voice and waited for you to finish. “Do you think you will be able to keep your hands off of me?” You looked at his one arm curling behind you and resting on your waist while the other hand enveloped your hand.

 Taehyung bit his lip off as you tugged at his perfectly ironed cream shirt. “Who says I am taking you to a public place?” He teased. 

As the carriage sped up, he comfortably melted into the seat, sweetly pressing you between his body and the leather walls. He held your hand and explained. “Newly courting couples should spend their time together in intimate settings to get to know each other. Public appearances are avoided until the engagement is agreed and partners spend most of their time with each other’s family.” 

You rolled your eyes at him as he explained the etiquette to you.

“So…” Taehyung brought his lips to your ear. “As much as I would love to flaunt you, my pretty doll, we will be alone together…” His breath ghosted your skin.

You shivered next to him as your fingers dug into his. “Where are you taking me?” You asked. 

Taehyung pressed his lips together into a straight line and shook his head. “A surprise.” He quipped. 

"Taehyung, please tell me where we are going," you pleaded, tugging at his arm. Taehyung's lips curved into a secretive smile as he resisted your pleas, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "It's a surprise, my love. You'll know soon enough," he teased, savouring the anticipation.

You pouted, trying to feign annoyance but failing to hide your growing eagerness. "You know I don't like surprises," you protested, pretending to cross your arms in playful defiance. "Come on, give me a little hint at least?" Taehyung's eyes gleamed with mirth at your adorable antics. "If I tell you now, it won't be a surprise anymore," he teased, the corner of his mouth lifting into a half-smirk. "But I promise you'll love it."

You groaned in mock frustration, knowing very well that Taehyung enjoyed teasing you. "You're so mean," you huffed, although the hint of a smile tugged at the corners of your lips. Taehyung's warm laughter filled the carriage, a delightful sound that soothed your impatience. "You'll thank me later, I promise," he assured you, squeezing your hand gently. "Just trust me." With his words, you couldn't help but settle back against the plush seats, your heart dancing with excitement for the mysterious surprise he had in store.

“Okay, I trust you.” It baffled Taehyung when you stopped being stubborn, shrugged and let your head rest on his shoulder. 

He hummed softly, his voice a gentle rumble as he pressed a tender kiss to the crown of your head. With your head resting on his shoulder, he couldn't help but marvel at how much smaller you seemed in comparison to his frame. It made him feel protective and responsible for your well-being.

“Have you thought about when to have our wedding ceremony, Taehyung?” You asked dreamily. “It is the only topic your mothers talked about since yesterday.”

He laid his cheek on top of your head, “I’ve been thinking about the day I’ll marry you for a long time, my love.” He replied softly as you giggled.

“But I want to know what you think, seriously.” You moved your head, causing him to gently squeeze you. You looked up at his eyes.

"Perhaps next summer would be perfect. I want to have every kind of blooming flower to witness the day I take you as my beloved lady…” He said ever so sweetly.

As you rested your chin on his shoulder, a playful pout graced your features. "So, nine months later?"

He nodded, a serene smile gracing his lips. "That's correct."

You pouted slightly, and Taehyung couldn't help but be charmed by your impatience. "Nine months seems too far away," you sighed.

Taehyung laughed amused. “I thought I was the eager one to get married?”

You shrugged again; you weren’t the one who was good with words. You looked at his pretty side profile. He was a masterpiece, sculpted with elegant lines and subtle contours that made your heart skip a beat. His strong jawline, chiselled and defined, tapered down to a perfectly shaped chin. He was not only strikingly handsome but possessed a kindness and warmth that made you feel like the luckiest person in the world. 

Taehyung was taken aback by your touch, admiring so dreamily. Like he knew, you weren’t good with words so you touched him.

“You think I am not eager to marry you?” You said, voice adorned with a tint of sadness.

Taehyung opened his mouth, weighing his words before he uttered them. Before he could, you spoke. "You are my childhood love, Taehyung. You are the one who made my heart race so fervently that it felt as though it might burst from my chest. I loved you since I can remember. You were always my supporter, play friend, confidant…"

“Darling…” A gentle sigh escaped Taehyung's lips as he absorbed your words, realizing the depth of emotion that lay behind them. You knew that he was going to coo you but you needed to get everything off your chest.

"I never want you to doubt my eagerness, Taehyung," You added sincerely, your voice soft and reassuring. "I've loved you ever since, and my desire to be with you is never to be question… even though I am not good at showing you."

He looked into your eyes, his own filled with a mixture of fondness and enthusiasm. You could see that he needed to hear this. 

"We can get married tomorrow if you want," he suggested in a raspy voice, his eyes gleaming with sincerity. 

You couldn't help but giggle at the notion. "Well, technically, we did decide to get married yesterday. It would only be fair to act quickly and make it official," you teased back. 

Taehyung chuckled, playing along with the jest. "But are we ready to face our mothers' wrath if we did that?" he inquired with a mischievous glint in his eye. 

You widened your eyes playfully. "Oh, never! They've already chosen the colour of the napkins for the dinner after the ceremony at the church. Oh, and the wine we'll be serving too," you listed off with a grin.

 “I know that our mothers are eager, but I want you to know that you are the only person in charge to make decisions, okay? If you are shy to oppose them, just tell me and I will deal with it.” The way he granted you all the options and choices this delicately made you feel very special. He was just an incredible man.

You leaned towards his touch. “Okay, I will wait until summer.” Taehyung could figure that out since you hate winter. You let him kiss your cheek once again and gave him a beautiful melody of your laugh. “My princess…” He whispered against your skin, your smell tickled his nose.

As he thought your conversation came to an end, you spoke, this time without looking at his eyes as you laid your head on his chest. 

“What about the children? Do you want to have children with me?” You asked. 

Taehyung's heartbeat quickened at the question, a surge of warmth enveloping him. “Of course, my love. I only want healthy and chubby babies from you, no matter how many.” His low voice vibrated his chest as you listened to him. “The important question is if you want, my darling.”  Taehyung's fingers traced delicate patterns on your back, a soothing rhythm that mirrored the gentle sway of the carriage. 

You nodded, a serene smile playing on your lips. "I want to start having babies when I am 25 years old," you began, thumbing your fingertips onto his tummy. "The first baby at 25, preferably a boy, the second baby girl at 27, then the third one at 28. And maybe another one before I turn 30." You listed your plans.

Taehyung chest hummed under your ear with a very low chuckle, “I have a plan to keep up with, huh?” You wouldn’t even begin to imagine how ready he was to give you kids. Hell yes, he was ready to fill you up with his seed, make you bloat with it, make you whine about the mess he created, and make you cry with overstimulation. 

His mind drifted to the process of making him a father. Suddenly, the carriage was too hot for him. Your warm body snuggled to him was too much. 

Again, he needed to find another topic to busy his mind. “Honestly, we will be fine with two sets of adoring grandparents.” He couldn't suppress the smile that tugged at his lips, “Ah, yes, they will be spoiling our little ones rotten.” 

You joined him with a giggle as he kissed your head again. “My precious girl.” He whispered, making you shiver. 

You remained lying on his chest with his arms around you, his fingers caressing your waist gently as the carriage manoeuvred on the roads. You could see the change of scenery from a calm view of Kim’s estate to the bustling city and again to the countryside. 

“When will be there Taehyung?” You pouted. Your face was adorned with the traces of the button of his shirt. Taehyung chuckled as he pressed onto your soft skin. 

"We should be arriving shortly, my love," Taehyung replied, his voice a tender caress. You excitedly picked yourself off his chest and looked outside from the window. The carriage began to slow down, the rhythmic clip-clop of the horses' hooves growing softer as they neared their destination. 

"Are you excited to see where I'm taking you?" he asked, a playful lilt in his tone. His hand moved to intertwine with yours, his fingers lacing through yours as if he couldn't bear to let go.

“Yes, I am so glad that we will spend time together…Doesn’t matter where we are. But Taehyung… I am so hungry!” You blurted out excitedly, holding your stomach to emphasise. 

“Don’t worry sweetheart.” He kissed your hands that he was holding. “I will feed you good.” 

You laughed, “Will you hunt for food or what?” You pointed to the endless grassland that you were looking at.

Taehyung bit down his lips, “If I have to, yes! All those hunting parties aren’t for nothing.” 

You rolled your eyes as Taehyung let his body hang outside and spoke to the driver. Soon the carriage came to a halt. 

—

As Taehyung led you out of the carriage, the sight that greeted you was nothing short of breathtaking. A sprawling meadow, bathed in the golden light of the setting sun, spread out before you. The air was filled with the gentle fragrance of wildflowers, and a light breeze rustled the tall grasses, creating a soothing, almost ethereal atmosphere.

You couldn't help but admire the beauty of the scene. "Taehyung, it's stunning here," you said, taking in the breathtaking surroundings.

When your feet hit the ground, he walked behind you and wrapped his arms around your figure. Your insides fluttered when you felt his rigid body fully. 

You took a deep breath and dropped your head to his chest, feeling a sense of serenity wash over you. "It's beautiful," you breathed, a sense of awe lacing your words. "But why did you bring me here?" You turned your face to him with a question.

Taehyung's smile widened as he squeezed your waist gently. "I thought we could have a little picnic here, just the two of us. A chance for us to enjoy each other's company in the midst of nature's embrace," he explained, his eyes never leaving yours.

Horses shuffled as the driver asked, “Will you be starting now, Mr Kim?” 

Taehyung unwrapped his arms, “Yes, we will. Please leave the baskets and you may leave to pick us up a few hours later.”

The driver approached the back of the carriage and retrieved the two well-stocked baskets, their woven exteriors brimming with an assortment of tantalizing aromas. He effortlessly balanced both containers and laid them at your feet, offering a courteous nod before retreating to his seat. With a light flick of the reins, the carriage rumbled back to life, wheels turning as it gradually disappeared into the distance.

You watched the carriage fade into the horizon, feeling a swell of contentment as you turned your attention to the treasure treat that Taehyung had prepared. You smiled at him. “Let us pick a tree and settle under its shadow.” He announced.

You smiled largely and tried to reach for one of the baskets. "Please, my love, let me handle this," Taehyung insisted with a warm smile, gently intercepting your attempt to take one of the baskets. He deftly manoeuvred them, balancing them with apparent ease. “I am your man, sweet girl. I’ve got everything under control.” 

You chuckled at his playful stubbornness, watching as he expertly balanced the basket and the blanket, his confident stride never faltering. "But Taehyung," you protested, "I can at least help carry something. It's not fair for you to do it all on your own."

He simply shook his head, his gaze warm and determined. "It's my pleasure to take care of you. You just pick a tree for us, my lady. I've got this handled."

You let Taehyung into the meadow, walking a few steps ahead. “I don’t want to sit too close to the water. Frogs are awfully loud.” As you pondered over which tree to choose, your gaze flitted from one to another, considering their characteristics and positions within the meadow. Taehyung watched you with a tender expression, his eyes following your every movement with unwavering adoration.

“Okay, okay, I will pick here!” You pointed to the large willow tree.

As Taehyung pulled the picnic blanket, you rushed to help him. “Darling, I said no.” He sternly warned you. “You are my wonderful princess, and you will do nothing but enjoy this gorgeous outing.”

You still held the side of the blanket as he laid it out for you. “Now, you sit beside the tree. Darling, do you want me to take your shoes off? Would that be comfortable for you?” He asked.

You nodded. “I will take–” Taehyung didn’t let you finish again and knelt before you, his nimble fingers delicately undoing the straps of your shoes. He handled each buckle with care. With gentle precision, he slipped the shoes off your feet, placing them carefully aside. “My princess never does things while her man is around.” He reminded you again. You bite your bottom lips and smile at him shyly, thanking him for the hundredth time. 

As you settled against the tree trunk, feeling the rough texture of the bark against your back, Taehyung slipped off his jacket, a gesture of warmth and protection. He gently draped it around your shoulders, ensuring that you were shielded from any pricking. "There," he murmured softly, his voice tender and soothing. "Is that more comfortable?"

You couldn't help but lean into the soft fabric of his jacket, feeling the comforting scent of his cologne enveloping you. The warmth of his presence cocooned you, his attentive nature making you feel cherished and cared for.  “I would have worn something else if I knew we were going to have a picnic.”

Taehyung shook his head no, “You look gorgeous, my darling. Don’t worry.”

The meadow's beauty was amplified as Taehyung began to unpack the picnic baskets, revealing an array of tantalizing dishes. The soft rustling of leaves above, the occasional songbird's melody, and the gentle warmth of the sun created a romantic ambience.

Taehyung's strong, lean form knelt gracefully beside the picnic spread, casting a handsome shadow under the midday sun. His fingers worked deftly as he removed each item from the baskets. The sunlight danced in his hair, highlighting the copper tones in his dark locks. You felt yourself drool over his figure; your body felt tingly with pleasure by just looking at him.

He unveiled a bottle of sparkling champagne and two crystal flutes from the icebox, and gently wiped the extra water off of them. "Of course, some bubbly to celebrate our time together."

Then, he revealed assortments of finger sandwiches with different fillings, including cucumber and cream cheese, egg with mayo, and chicken salad. "I thought we'd have a variety," he explained. "But I know you have your favourites."

Next, he set out a selection of cheeses and fruits. "I will prepare you a gorgeous charcuterie board, sweet girl.” 

Then, he looked at your eyes with a short pause. “You were asking me why I was gone just before we left, right?”

You nodded as he dug inside the icebox. "Look at what we have here," Taehyung said with a playful glint in his eye, his voice infused with excitement, as he carefully lifted a metal tray brimming with freshly baked eclairs. "I was so afraid that the chocolate would melt, but it seems the icebox did its magic." 

“Taehyung! Those are my absolute favourites! Oh, I didn’t even know they were baking them,” you exclaimed, your eyes gleaming with anticipation. You were already leaning in, eager to savour their irresistible flavour.

He arranged the delectable pastries on a delicately designed wooden board, each one exuding a rich, inviting aroma. As you gasped in delight, he couldn't help but smile at your exuberance.

Taehyung, after arranging the eclairs, playfully licked the remaining chocolate from his fingers. You looked at him with a pout, your eyes fixed on the lingering sweetness.

“Do you want to taste?” Taehyung's voice was laced with amusement as he offered his chocolate-coated fingers to you. Without a moment's hesitation, you closed your eyes and wrapped your mouth around his proffered fingers, savouring the rich, decadent taste of the chocolate that lingered on his skin.

Taehyung realised his mistake as your warm mouth wrapped around his finger. He felt dizzy as in a second his body pumped all of his blood to his dick. He let his moan gurgle out as a low growl. The way your tongue caressed his fingers sent shivers down his spine. He marvelled at the softness of your lips, the gentle pressure with which you held his fingers by his wrist. 

For a brief moment, his mind wandered to realms of this current moment’s possibility. You would take his invitation to delve into the uncharted territory of the sweet dance of love if he asked. But he had to be careful and gentle with you. You were too precious to be used mindlessly, just because he felt like it. 

“Taste amazing…” You complimented with a glint in your eyes, you seemed very well aware of your actions.

“Y/N…” He whispered your name as the breeze hit his wet fingers. He had the urge to suck your spit off his finger but was currently frozen in his stance.

“Should we start our picnic? I am starving.” You pouted him innocently as Taehyung sat down. 

Taehyung replied, his voice came out raspy. You settled into your comfortable spot, the vibrant colours of the meadow surrounding you, adding to the magic of the moment. Meanwhile, Taehyung started to prepare the charcuterie board for you. He always had a perfect artistic eye, so he created a beautiful assortment. 

As he worked silently– mostly to calm his raging body– you picked up the finger sandwich. The egg and mayo ones were your all-time favourites as the platter mostly consisted of them. You couldn't resist the urge and with a playful glint in your eye, you extended the half-eaten sandwich toward him.

"Care for a bite?" you teased, your eyes dancing with playful affection. Taehyung rolled his eyes but accepted it with a smile, his lips brushing against your fingertips as he savoured the taste. 

“Hmm, why is it sweet!” He said with a faux surprise. 

You looked at him confused and ate the small piece left in your hand. “You made it sweeter by touching it with your sweet lips!” He retorted, his gaze soft and affectionate. It was his turn to overwhelm you despite he couldn’t play dirty like you.

You pouted your lips adorably as you fell into his trap and continued the savour the scene. As Taehyung picked up the champagne bottle. “We should start with a toast, right?” 

He weighed the bottle in his hands and read its label to you. “The finest champagne for my lover, dear Y/N.” his thumb traced over the intricate label. "Brought all the way from the vineyards in Reims, France. It's a vintage 1889.” The strong and lean muscles of his arms flexed ever so subtly as he deftly twisted the bottle. Your gaze lingered on the strong lines of his long fingers and the way he moved with practised ease.

"Is there anything you can't do elegantly?" you quipped, a note of admiration colouring your voice. Taehyung glanced down at you, a playful glint in his eyes. He let you savour the sight of him for a moment. Then, he coaxed the cork to release with a satisfying pop. You squealed, genuinely scared.

Taehyung laughed at you airly. You playfully swatted him on the arm, teasing him for scaring you. His laughter was infectious, filling the meadow with its warmth. "You just scared a family of squirrels Y/N!” he teased you further whilst pouring the champagne into the delicate crystal flutes. The liquid bubbled and frothed, its golden hue catching the last rays of the sun.

“I shall make a toast for you, my dear.” He announced as he held his glass up, his voice was warm and rich as he spoke, and his eyes locked onto yours with unwavering devotion. "To the most wonderful woman a man could ask for," he began, his voice carrying the weight of his sincerity. "I am beyond grateful for every moment we share, and I promise to spend the rest of my days making you as happy as you make me."

You felt a rush of emotion swell within you, your heart overflowing with love and gratitude for the man sitting before you. Before he could gesture you to drink, you raised your glass too. "To the man who has stolen my heart and continues to fill my life with joy and mischief," you said, your gaze unwavering. "I promise to stand by your side, to support you, and to love you unconditionally, for all the days of our lives."

With that, you raised your glass and clinked it against his, but throats dry with overwhelming emotion. “To your health.” He said and drank the entire glass in one go. You chuckled and joined him with a sip. 

—

After the two of you devoured most of the sandwiches, you were worried that your time with your lover was about to end. So, you angelically called his name, “Taehyung…” He looked at you with curious eyes. “Cuddle me.” You pushed the plates and opened your arms towards him. 

Taehyung gave you a lopsided grin as he crawled towards your lap. “Put your head on my lap, darling. I will feed you.” You murmured as he took his place on you. Normally he would oppose to this position, but he has been supporting a raging boner since you licked his fingers despite gulping down four glasses of champagne. Even though you could see the very obvious tent on his crotch, he didn’t want you to feel what you had done to him. 

He laid between your legs, over the length of your pink skirt. he laid his head on to your soft thigh while letting his hand rest on the opposite one. He hummed sweetly when you brought your hand to his hair.  “Let me take care of you too, baby.” You whispered; his lips curved into a soft smile.

He had never been this close to you despite all the cuddling he received. He was, now, very close to your intimate spots. Your perky chest was a few inches from his face, slightly obstructing his view of your face with their plumpness.

Your tummy was soft against his head, he was filled with intention to bury himself into your flesh, bite your soft skin. “Open up, Taetae.” Instead of your delicious taste, you gave him a grape. Taehyung gladly accepted it as he nestled into your lap. He was ridiculously tall, his feet were outside of the blanket. It felt like a giant was on top of you as his smallest move shook your body. 

“I can already hear my mother’s nagging about where I took you, what we did, what we talked.” Taehyung sighed as he smiled. 

You continued to caress his hair with a giggle. “She is so excited. She is planning our wedding like it’s the biggest event of the century.” 

He shook his head onto the soft meat of your thigh, “That doesn't surprise me. My mother loves grand affairs, and she is beyond delighted that you are my bride. And Jimin, too. He visited me at my office today, and he was so delighted for us. We haven't seen him that thrilled in a while."

“He might be happy because of the free booze.” You loved your alcoholic friend regardless. 

Taehyung's expression softened, and he looked thoughtful. "Speaking of friends, Eunjin…” You gave Taehyung an airy laugh when he mentioned his sister with this much scare. 

“She's going to lose her mind when she hears the news of us getting married. Ahh! I can’t even imagine the squeals. Let us uninvite her, darling." Taehyung squeezed his eyes, but he didn’t mean the annoyance. 

Fond memories of your childhood friend and Taehyung's sister flooded back. "Taehyung! You know we can’t do that. I already want her as my maid of honour…I really miss her. It’s boring to go tea parties without her."

Taehyung chuckled, "I am sure she will make sure everyone behaves well.” He reminisced about his little sister and her control issues.

You shared a warm smile, appreciating the shared memories you both had with your families and friends. 

"I think Namjoon won’t be surprised." You mused, thinking about your sweet and clumsy brother who was currently outside of town, attending a hunting party.

“He already knows,” Taehyung replied, his tone nonchalant.

"What do you mean he knows?" you inquired, a furrow forming on your brow.

Taehyung shifted, his expression becoming more serious. “Well, I have been preparing for this for a while now,” he explained, his gaze intense.

Confusion clouded your features. “Preparing for what, Taehyung?” you pressed, wanting to understand.

“Princess…” he hissed, a possessive glint in his eye. “Your father spoke to me about our future together before the summer started. So, I have been readying myself to be one of the prospects.”

“Before summer? It is more than three months ago?” As you absorbed his words, you felt a mixture of surprise and a thrill of possessiveness at his declaration. He nodded, “You have many bachelor candidates waiting for you, pretty girl.” Taehyung leaned in, his fingers tracing soft patterns on your thigh as he listed some of the eligible bachelors from various corners of the world with disgust in his low voice. "There's Carl Harrington, the textile magnate from Madrid. Then, Louis Beau, a barrister in London. Then there's Edmund Sinclair, heir to the prominent shipping company in Scotland, a man of stature in the maritime world."

As he recited the names, a tinge of possessiveness crept into his voice, showing his unease with the idea of you being courted by them. With those words, Taehyung lifted himself up from where he had been lying on your thighs, his head now resting against your heart, his nose tickling your skin. The alcohol in his body didn’t help him to make the right choices. Every etiquette, every rule disappeared from his mind as you pulled him in with your sweet smell. 

“Well, I can’t lie, I had some points in my block, but I had to be the best one for you, darling.” he murmured, his jaw set with determination.

“What made you think I would want them? You have my heart, Taehyung. I don’t think you need any other qualifications,” you stated firmly, your gaze meeting his with unwavering affection.

 “That’s great, my sweet girl, because you belong to me now. No other man…” His voice was a soft murmur, his breath caressing your skin as he claimed you. 

He rubbed his nose against your collarbones. his lips left a trail of soft, lingering kisses along your collarbones, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine “I want you to know, my love, that I won't allow anyone else to have what's rightfully mine," he declared firmly. “I will give you everything as your husband, okay?” 

You obediently nodded; head only filled with his presence. 

The fervour in his declaration was palpable, and you found yourself surrendering to the intensity of his love and devotion. 

“Taehyung…” You hummed his name just like in his dreams. Taehyung noticed the slight confusion in his voice as he kissed your skin one last time. 

“My love…” He mimicked your voice as he supported his whole body with his one arm. He was equally captivated. “Y/N… Can I kiss you?” He begged you silently, his nose brushing your cheek.

“Y-you know I haven’t ha-d my f-first–” You blabber. 

“I know, baby. I know… Do you want me to be your first?” Taehyung didn’t have the intention to be this desperate, but you made him so weak.

“What if I am bad?” You closed your eyes as his nose continued to rub your cheek. 

“Never, my darling. But if you don’t want to….” He licked his lips and took a deep breath to have enough of your captivating smell.

“I- I want to…” You murmured. 

“Oh, baby...” Taehyung whimpered. 

Taehyung's heart pounded as your request hung in the air, his desire for you only intensifying. His gaze never wavered from your face, drinking in the beauty and vulnerability that you displayed in this moment.

The world around you seemed to fade into oblivion, and all that remained was the two of you, drawn together by an irresistible force. Taehyung's hand, trembling ever so slightly, cupped your cheek, his thumb tenderly tracing your lips. He leaned in, his lips hovering just above yours, a silent request for permission.

Your heart raced, and a thousand thoughts flooded your mind. What if you weren't good at this? What if you disappointed him?

Gathering your courage, you nodded slightly, granting him the permission he sought. With a soft sigh, Taehyung closed the remaining distance, and his lips met yours in a sweet, unhurried kiss. It was a promise, a beginning, a declaration of love. His kiss was gentle yet ardent, his breath mingling with yours.

When Taehyung's soft lips met yours, it was like a delicate brush of silk upon your skin. The sensation was an exquisite blend of warmth and tenderness. His lips felt like a gentle whisper against your mouth.

The kiss, rather a prolonged peck, carried a need to express the depth of his emotions, yet it was imbued with patience as if he were willing to wait an eternity for you. His lips were slightly moist, shaking but still sure of what they desired.

“This was your first kiss, right?” He asked, his tears were about to fall from his cheeks.

You didn’t trust your voice, so you nodded. 

Taehyung pressed his lips to yours again as you froze in your place. “This was your second… I am your first and second.” 

“Taehyung…” You whimpered. 

Taehyung looked up to your eyes with fear, what if you regretted this already?

But your lips were curled into a content smile as you sucked on your bottom lip. “Hmm?” Taehyung couldn’t speak. 

Your eyes were closed but your smile got bigger. “You like that?” He gathered the courage to ask you. You nodded. “You gave me my first kiss…” Your voice was so quiet, scarred of ants and bees hearing you.

Taehyung’s arm grew weak, and he placed his back into your neck, lying on his side. “I did…” He whispered.

“Oh my Lord! Taehyung!” Your voice filled your lungs cheerfully. “You gave me my first kiss!”

Taehyung was a weak man. He was on a tide of emotions.

—

He was either poisonously possessive and jealous which made him bitter, or he was head over heels with ever-growing love. After sharing two quick pecks, his heart couldn’t slow down despite the relaxing encouragement from you. You weren’t different, you wore a delusional smile on your face and giggle with the remainant taste of him. 

After having the kiss, he laid back on your thigh, taking deep breaths to savour the moment. As he laid on, his driver returned, marking the time as 4 p.m. It was time to return home. Taehyung packed the stuff up hurriedly, he shoved most of the stuff back into the baskets. But Taehyung helped you get the carriage with utter gentleness and held your hand during the ride back home. 

On the ride, Taehyung's gaze occasionally shifted toward you, his eyes conveying a mixture of tenderness and protectiveness that had become all too familiar. The ride back felt shorter than the journey there, perhaps because of the warmth that enveloped you both at the newfound intimacy.

You stole glances at him too, admiring the subtle lines of his profile, the way the fading sunlight played upon his features, casting a golden halo around his countenance. The tender memories of your first kiss lingered, the sweetness of the moment still etched in the recesses of your mind.

Your entrance back to Kim’s estate was wordless too, your bodies thriving in the spell of love together. Taehyung’s henchman greeted you at the door with a big smile. As you entered the house, Taehyung took your jacket off for you. “Thank you, Tae.” You shivered when his knuckles brush your shoulders. 

“Your mothers are at the blue drawing room, Mr Kim.” The henchman announced as he closed the door behind you.

You and Taehyung proceed into the room as another maid took your jackets. Ever gentleman, Taehyung offered you his arm. You accepted, “The blue drawing room is my favourite!” You quietly squeal. 

Taehyung gave you a sweet chuckle, pecking your temple. He could see the little girl he used to chase down the halls with your words. “Are you ready for the big inquisition?” He asked.

You playfully rolled your eyes at him. “Take me back to the meadow!”

As you and Taehyung entered the lavish blue drawing room, the silver and blue furnishings gave the room an air of refined elegance. The intricate silver-framed portraits adorned the walls, complementing the lavish blue draperies that billowed gently in the evening breeze. The chandeliers above illuminated the room with a soft, golden radiance, casting enchanting shadows across the floor.

Both your mother and Mrs Kim had already adorned themselves in their evening finery, complete with sparkling tiaras that added an extra touch of glamour. Their eyes lit up as they spotted the two of you, immediately eager for the details of your day.

Taehyung greeted them first, “Oh lord! The room is so bright with your elegance, mothers!” Taehyung's playful charisma shone through as he addressed the company in his charming manner. 

They gave Taehyung a melodic giggle, “Son, you are a charmer as always.” Your mother said.

“Come on, sit down, you love birds. Tell us what you have done!” Mrs Kim chippered quickly. Your mother gave her a knowing look. “How was your day, my dear Y/N? Did my son treat you well? If not, you just only tell!” Her hand reached for her heel.

You couldn't help but smile, feeling the warmth of their interest. "It was absolutely delightful, thank you! Taehyung took me on the loveliest picnic. We had the most wonderful time together under the sun." you replied, your voice filled with the remnants of the joy and excitement from the day's escapades.

"It sounds like very romantic day…" Mrs Kim added with a soft sigh, the memory of the picnic bringing a pleasant warmth to your cheeks. Both of the mothers couldn't help but express their admiration and fondness for the idyllic setting. 

Your mother, with a playful glint in her eye, interjected with a teasing remark. "Yes, but you two used to bicker so much, it's a wonder you didn't drive each other crazy! It seems you've found a way to get along." She shot a knowing look at Mrs Kim, who chuckled in agreement.

Taehyung, always quick with a quip, responded with a grin, "Oh, well, Y/N came long way, I think. She even shared her eclairs with me, isn't that right, my darling?" He reached for your hand, giving it a gentle squeeze as his eyes met yours with a twinkle.

You pouted with a huff, “Taehyung!” Just like that two of you returned to bickering. 

—

masterlist |

[ashisgreedy]

Garreth Weasley x F!MC

Professor Garreth AU

“A Potion Of You.” 

Tags: Spicy 18+ | First Date | Making out | Heavy petting | Fingering | F!Orgasm | Hickies | All chars are aged up 21+ish. WC: 7,100

-18 Minors, do not interact with my blog/content.

A|N: In chapter 1, Garreth is introduced as a professor at Hogwarts after not seeing the MC for many years. He proceeds to get outed as having a crush on her when they were in school and his feelings are reciprocated by the MC. He asks her out on a date. Chapter 2 is their date!

| Ch. 1 |

Chapter 2 

Entering the castle after all of these years was a shock of nostalgia. The corridors all seemed so familiar yet she’s been gone so long, she knew she couldn't have made her way around by memory anymore.  She knocked lightly on the solid wooden door of Garreth’s classroom. She was unsure if it was the correct room but the surrounding stack of caldrons made her more confident she was in the right place.

She didn't have to wait long before the door swung open to the Potions Classroom, Garreth greeting her with a large smile. Seeing him was also a mix of nostalgia as well, laced with a hint of unfamiliarity. There was a time, long ago, when she knew every single thing about him. 

“Hey! Come on in.” He welcomed her warmly. Garreth’s hair was styled like it always had been. His curl pattern and the way his hair grew must not have been open to many different types of styling. 

“Hello, good evening.” She greeted him sweetly. 

Her day had seemed to drag by so slowly making her nerves stand on end. It was almost surreal being here with him now in his classroom, finally. She wondered all day what the date would be like, what he would be like. Would they still banter like they used to? Could being romantically entangled complicate things in a way neither of them could have imagined? She hoped things would go smoothly at least. As teens, they always clicked together effortlessly. Hopefully, not much has changed despite the years of maturity between them. 

He was dressed a bit nicer than the night before at the bar. He was wearing a maroon vest with gold buttons and trim. His top was a light cream and his slacks were a dark shade of charcoal grey. He looked great and so put together. He never lacked in the fashion department when they were teens but it was nice to see him trying a bit more for her, for their date. She shook her head internally at the thought, still in disbelief that she was on a date with the guy she had the biggest and longest-running crush on in history. 

“I’m happy to see you again.” He said, giving her a quick look over. “You look amazing.” He blew out air from his lungs in a rush and rubbed the back of his head. “I mean to say, you look very beautiful.” 

Her stomach flopped at his compliment. “Thank you.” She took a moment to rake her eyes over him. “You’re not so bad yourself.” She shot him a playful smile. That was an understatement. He looked downright hot. This man had only gotten better with age. He was filled out, broader, and his legs were a good deal longer. His arms were way more muscular than she had ever seen them. She wondered if he worked out or if the simple task of carrying heavy objects around his classroom got him so into shape. She imagined he may carry many heavy stacked cauldrons and crates of supplies to and fro, arms flexing as he did. 

“Why, thank you.” He beamed. “I just have to grab my keys and we can be off!” His energy was still very much the same albeit a bit more toned down. Garreth still looked like he’d be up for any spontaneous adventure. His eyes glittered in the room light before he tore his gaze away to grab his set of keys. 

She had missed those deep emerald eyes of his that used to be such a comfort to see on even the most stressful of days. She missed his red fluffy hair that she used to throw tiny bits of balled-up paper in that he, of course, never realized it was her doing. (She should confess that to him soon…)  Hell, she missed him and his antics and his jokes and his laugh. They were always chatting and planning something back in school. Their conversation always flowed like water down a stream, it was as easy as breathing. She wondered how their adult conversations would go.

They both had nervous jitters that bounced around the room. It was a strange combination of feeling the familiarity of an old friend while also being somewhat strangers. It didn’t help her nerves being so open about being attracted to said friend. And, of course, going on a date. A date with many possible implications that she refused to allow herself to think about all day. She blushed and made her way back out the door from where she had just come. 

What if it did work out? What then? One of them would have to leave the adult life they built. One of them being her, of course, she would never ask Garreth to leave his job as a professor here at Hogwarts. It would make her sick to her stomach to even ask him to quit so he could come live with her in her hamlet many hours away doing menial tasks to stay afloat.  She supposed she wouldn’t mind leaving her life behind, but she was getting ahead of herself. The date hadn’t even started yet. She would just have to go with the flow and have fun with it. 

“I brought my appetite like you asked.” She assured him. Garreth sent her an owl early that morning with a bit of banter and a hint to wear warm clothes for their date. It also told her to stop snacking at 4 to be hungry enough for what he had planned. She read the letter six or seven times just to study his neat handwriting. The way he wrote her name with an extra flourish made her heart swell. 

“Fantastic!” He closed the door, locking it with one of the larger keys on the ring. “I don’t want to spoil too much of the surprise, but we will definitely have lots of food options tonight.” 

“What’s such a surprise about eating dinner together?” 

Garreth sent her a charming smile and offered her his arm. She took it, linking her arm in his as they walked down the long corridor.

“You will see soon enough.” 

She wondered if his cheeks were going to be sore from smiling so much. She touched her own face realizing she may be facing the same issue later. They walked arm in arm, their steps, and easy chatter filling the halls. 

Gareth took her to a small balcony high in the Hogwarts castle. It looked so familiar to her but she couldn’t quite put her finger on it. But, oh wow, was it an incredible view. It was akin to something she would only be able to see flying on her broom. Rolling hills in the distance, glowing just a bit with the last remaining rays of the setting sun. The black lake below looked massive from where they stood. Its waters were calm and it reflected the hills behind it like a mirror.

A small circular table sat in the middle of the balcony. A white tablecloth draped to the ground and the centerpiece was decorated with a red flower and two floating candles. Two empty plates were set out across from each other, chairs angled slightly toward the view. 

“Wow, it’s lovely.” She took in the romantic scene. Her heart squeezed at the effort he’d put in. She stepped toward the table with a huge grin. 

Garreth laughed. “I may have gotten some advice on what kind of date to take you on. I told my colleagues I couldn’t grab drinks with them because I had a special date.”  He enunciated the T in ‘date’ and winked. He pulled out the chair for her and waited for her to sit. 

“Do you grab drinks with your fellow professors often?” She unfolded the napkin on the table and placed it on her lap. Garreth took his seat across from her and relaxed back into the chair. He eyed the scenery then slid his gaze back to her.  

“Sometimes. I guess it's been more often lately since the cool weather rolled in.” He rubbed his hands together and searched the table for something. “I think a lot of people get lonely this time of year.” 

“Did they give you any good advice for our first date?” She teased. 

The floating candles were enchanted, giving off a whole fireplace's worth of warmth. It made it bearable to stay outdoors in the winter, but she was still grateful for the long coat she wore that covered her skirt. Garreth found what he was looking for, a tiny brass bell. He rang it and sat it off to the side. 

“A bit. Only one bit of advice was useful though.” He gestured at the view. “The divination professor told me to pick a spot that held meaning for both of us. I don’t think I’ve been to this side of the castle in a while. I wouldn’t have thought about it again if she hadn’t said anything.” 

“Special meaning?” Her brows knitted together. She searched her mind for answers but came up blank. This scenery would be hard to forget, but it was possible it was already culled from her mind after all these years.

Garreth nodded, looking around the balcony. “This is where we used to come to sneak out to during 6th and 7th year when I made those series of… concoctions. The ones that I hoped would get us either drunk or experience a unique buzz.” 

It all rushed back to her in an instant. She recalled Garreth pulling out vile after vile of different potions he’d made and dropped them all on the balcony for them to sift through. They’d drink a vile then eat some candy they’d gotten from Hogsmeade and just talk and laugh. Sometimes they’d play games, most of which Garreth had come up with on the spot. Some, they would modify to turn them into drinking games. She didn’t recall ever taking in the view like she was now. It must have paled in comparison to the company she shared. 

“Damn,” She began. “I can’t believe I didn’t recognize this place! Remember the time you drank two potions back to back and your skin ended up turning purple?” She began to laugh and Garreth feigned annoyance. 

“Yes well, I remember when you used to force me to drink all the newest concoctions because you were too scared to be my guinea pig. That’s why my face turned purple! I could never say no to you.” He shook his head with a grin. “I guess you know why now.” He shot her a playful wink.

“What would you rather have had me do? I couldn’t walk around school with purple skin.” 

“It’s not like I wanted all those strange stares either.” He crossed his arms, a huge smile across his face.” 

“Well, you are the one that made them. It’s only fair that you are the one that tested them too.” 

“I was just happy to be hanging out with you. It was always worth it to have double vision for a few hours or even purple skin.” 

They smiled at one another for a long moment. Now that the conversation easily flowed, she felt more comfortable in his presence. 

“Oh, and you mentioned you spoke with the divination professor? Did she predict our date would go well?” She smirked, raising a questioning brow. 

Garreth laughed then shook his head. “I didn’t ask.” 

“Bullshit.” 

“Okay fine! I asked!” He put his hands up in defense, a huge smile still on his face. “ But she wouldn't tell me. She just said ‘Have fun.’ and shut the door on my face.” 

“You poor thing.”

“Yes, feel sorry for me.” He teased.

She admonished him and rolled her eyes. It was fun, how easily she could flirt with him. It was welcoming, almost like no time had passed. 

A bell chimed sounding the same as the one Garreth had rang moments ago. 

“Lean back.” He directed, leaning back in his own chair.

She removed her arms from the table and relaxed back. Out of thin air, food appeared on the plate in front of her. Several sides populated the outskirts of the plate while the middled filled an entre. The huge mug to her right began to fill to the brim with a fizzing liquid.

“This looks absolutely delicious.” She breathed in the new smells that permeated the balcony. The effervescent drink bubbled as she took a small sip. The cider warmed her from the inside. 

Garreth was quiet for a long moment before he spoke. “I’m glad you like it. Just so you know, we can ring this bell and more food will be brought out. Each time we ring it, a new dish will be served.”

“Is this with the help of the kitchen elves?”

“Yes, the concept is similar to how they fill the dining hall for every meal. Pretty neat, huh?”

“Very neat!” She looked up and met Garreth’s gaze. “Garreth, I really do like this.” She spoke quietly. Understanding washed over his features. He kept eye contact with her, appreciating the moment. “I like everything about this night. The food is perfect, the view is incredible, and having dinner on this balcony was a marvelous idea.” Garreth’s smile grew as she spoke. “But most of all, I like the company.” 

There it was, a red blush, spreading across Garreth’s face. “I’ve never been happier.” He sounded as if he were in a dream state.

“Oh hush,” She giggled. “Liar. I was there when you managed to make the perfect batch of fizzing whiz beer that didn’t blow up, and it actually tasted drinkable.” 

“That WAS incredible!” He laughed, reminiscing. “I have since refined that recipe, I’ll have you know. You can actually drink a whole mug of it and not get sick!” 

“Wonderful! I’d love to try some.” 

“Well… okay maybe it still makes one a bit sick on occasion…” He backpedaled. “It’s a bit unpredictable. But, I have another better recipe I’ve been working on that you can try!” 

“I may take you up on that offer.” Do you live here,” She gestured to the castle. “in the faculty tower?” She recalled that most, if not all of the professors lived in the tower. 

“Uh, I don’t. I do have a room to stay in if I need it. But, I actually live in a nearby Hamlet. It has a yard where I can grow some ingredients and it’s near some woods where I can forage.” Garreth took a drink from his cup. 

“Oh? I didn’t think they would allow you to live off the property if you were a professor.” She honestly hadn’t put much thought into it as a child. Most of the time it felt like the professors just slept in their classroom offices. 

“There’s a floo flame two houses down from me. And, there's a floo flame right outside of my classroom. I can arguably make it to my classroom faster than others that live within the castle itself.” He smiled like he’d tested that theory already. 

The conversation flowed easily as they ate their meal. The two candles floating above the table kept the balcony romantically lit and very warm. The gentle yellow flame made Garreth’s hair appear more strawberry blond than his usual firebolt strands.

She didn’t want this night to end. She felt annoyed that she had to leave early the next morning. When she initially visited, she hadn’t planned on even staying the one night let alone two. She didn’t bring more than just the one spare set of clothing nor did she bring enough galleons to pay for yet another room at a nearby stay. Sadness crept into her mind, but she pushed it away and focused on enjoying the moment. 

They continued their banter as the dinner progressed. They both took turns bringing up memories of their time at school and sharing knowledge about what their old friends were up to now. 

Later, she found her arm linked with Garreth’s again as he showed her around his classroom. 

“I’ve made some changes, but mostly kept things the way they were. I don’t like sitting for most of the class. I find that I walk around and answer questions most of the time anyway. So, I got rid of the desk to make room for additional caldrons.” Garreth spoke excitedly. He looked a lot like his enthusiastic younger self now. She loved that he still held onto wonder, like everything was still fresh and new. 

She took in her old classroom, spotting some differences here and there. “I’m impressed by your ingredient shelves. They are much more organized than I remember.” All the shelves were organized by color and size. Most of the jars looked dusted and all their labels were facing outward neatly.  

Garreth rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, you can thank one of my students for that. A first year. She came in the first day and gasped. Said that this was no way to run a classroom. She ended up staying after class several times for a couple of weeks just to reorganize my ingredients. She condensed some and separated others. I haven’t dared to touch them since. I am grateful, but I don’t want to mess up all her hard work. Plus, the other students have been finding things much faster. Whatever she did, it’s a far better system than what I could have come up with.” 

“Sounds like she’d make a good teacher's assistant one day.” They continued their jaunt around the room, eventually making their way back toward the entrance. 

“That would mean she’d have to go into my office. I think she would quit on the spot if she went in there.” Garreth laughed. “Speaking of,” He waved his wand at the lock on the door within the classroom. The lock popped and the door swung open. “This is my office.” He pocketed his wand and lead her in. 

It wasn’t dirty at all. In fact, there was far less dust than what she remembered from it being Professor Sharps's office. It looked more lived-in albeit disorganized. He used almost every surface to house potion bottles, ingredient jars, or bubbling caldrons. 

“I know it looks kind of bad… But, I know where everything is. Or, at least I think I could find what I was looking for pretty quickly.” He glanced around then looked back over at her, eagerly waiting to hear what she thought. 

“It’s very you, Gar.” She reached over and squeezed his hand. Her eyes bounce from one shelf to another. There were several corks on his desk and a slew of blank tags tossed about. She guessed he must have been in the middle of labeling some potions before she got there. 

“Feel free to take a seat if you want.” He squeezed her hand back, grinning like an idiot. “I can make us some tea.” The only seat was at his desk. It felt strange to be seated while he stood so she opted to lean against the desk instead. 

She peaked at the clock ticking away on the wall and sighed. “I think I’ll pass on the tea. It’s getting a bit late.” She had a pang of regret the second she said that. “I-I don’t want the night to end, but I do have to leave a bit early in the morning.” 

Garreth nodded his head. “It’s perfectly alright. I’m glad you said something. I would have kept talking for hours.” His smile looked bittersweet. He ran his hand through his hair and rested his palm on the back of his neck. 

She didn’t want to come outFright and say how she was feeling quite yet. If they did want to see each other again, it wouldn’t be for a while due to their schedules. And, what if long distance wasn’t Garreth’s thing? Or if he agreed to it, how long would they both last? Did he always want her to come to him? Or would he be willing to come to her? He probably couldn’t stay with her for very long anyway, he would always have to come back for his classes. She shook her head out of her thoughts. She was getting ahead of herself.

“I’d love to talk to you for hours.” She bit the inside of her cheek. “If I could.” 

That brightened his smile. “Yeah? And what would you like to talk about with me for hours?” He took a step toward her, brows lifting in question. 

“Anything…” She breathed the word. 

She laughed as nervous and giddy energy bubbled up inside her. But, it was the second step he took that made her stomach break out into flutters. Garreth stood in front of her, gaze falling on hers. He took her hand in his and laced their fingers together. Her heart hammered as she realized just how alone they were. They weren’t kids sneaking around anymore, and no one was looking for them.  

His eyes twinkled as he cupped one side of her face. Their noses touched and he hovered in silent question. She squeezed her hand in his and held her breath when his thumb gently stroked her skin.

Her heart thrummed wildly in her ears while she focused on the two freckles that decorated his top lip. Without further hesitation, she pressed up on her toes and accepted his invitation. His lips were warm against hers and oh, so soft. He kissed her like she was delicate, pressing his lips to hers tenderly. He let out a relieved sigh and planted several soft pecks atop her mouth. 

He slowed his rhythm gradually. When it felt like he was going to conclude the kiss, she slid her palms up his chest and wrapped her arms around his neck. Garreth took a sharp inhale and slid his hand to rest on her lower back. He hugged her close, tilting his head more to the right, and slotting their lips together to get a much deeper kiss. 

The sounds of feet shuffling as they scrambled to get that much closer to one another, labored breathing, and lips meeting filled the office. She was caught up in the rhythm of it all. The urgency of the kiss began to reflect how much she deeply yearned for him, all the way to the center of her being. She wanted this. He wanted this. It was clearer than glass to her. They just fit together so perfectly.

Bells chimed in the distance and Garreth tore his lips away. He looked pained to be parted from her. His forehead pressed into hers while taking a deep breath. 

“That’ll be 11:00 PM. I am sorry I kept you out so late.” He pressed a long, hard kiss to her forehead, hands cupping the sides of her face as he did. 

She smiled at the affection and looked up to meet his eyes. “Thank you for tonight.” Her fingers playfully twirled a stray piece of his crimson hair. 

Garreth smiled wide and raced to plant a chassed kiss on her lips. “I should be thanking you. I am so glad you came into town. I’m happy you agreed to go on a date with me.” His thumb swiped over her bottom lip. He marveled at her for a few more moments before stepping away. 

“I…” She paused. “I guess I should be going.” She did tell him earlier that she couldn’t stay out too late. But, this was making her regret that statement. She wanted nothing more than to fold into his arms and stay there all night. 

“May I walk you back to your lodgings for the night?” 

“Of course. I’d love that.” She gave him one last smile and squeezed their clasped hands before breaking away. 

On their way out, Garreth locked his office door with a wave of his wand then took her hand in his. “There’s a floo flame just there,” he pointed across the hall. His warm fingers laced with hers and excitement bubbled up in her chest. They fell into pace with one another with no effort. 

The trip was like a flash. The warm air from the castle was gone and replaced instantly with the night's chilly atmosphere. A gush of icy wind blew past, lifting dried leaves from the cobblestone street. She hugged herself to suppress a shiver.

“It’s that one.” She pointed to the quaint bed and breakfast across the square. 

Garreth squinted in that direction. “I see it! Let’s get inside.” He looked down just as she shivered. “Quickly now!” He said with a smile. 

They bounded for the building in sync, both laughing a bit at the other's competitive nature. They both tried to quickly step in front of one another but Garreth rushed forward at the last minute and opened the door for her. 

“After you.” He gave her a playful wink.

Stagnant warm air greeted them. She rubbed her hands together to create heat. The fireplace in the corner of the room blazed and the scent of freshly brewed tea wafted in the air. 

“Good evening!” The receptionist chimed. She stood from behind the desk, setting her drink down in the process. She smoothed her blazer and looked between the two of them with a welcoming smile. 

“Yes, good evening.” She greeted. 

“Good evening.” Garreth nodded. 

“Do you need to check in?” The receptionist began opening a ledger. 

“No, I’ve got a key already. Thank you.” She wave to the receptionist and guided Garreth down the hall. 

“Not a problem. Please feel free to come to the front desk at any time if you are in need of anything.” The receptionist called after. 

“Will do!” She responded over her shoulder. 

She realized how fast she was rushing to her room and began to stall her steps. The excitement and energy from their playfulness outside had not worn off on her yet. She buzzed with adrenaline and, truthfully, nerves. She wanted to kiss him again. 

“It’s a nice stay.” He broke the silence. 

“Yes, it’s very nice. It was the only open room I could find nearby on such short notice. They were quick to get me a room. A nice couple, the people that run this place.”

They walked a few more steps in silence. “Will you be coming back anytime soon?” Garreth’s voice was full of hope. 

“I might, I mean- Maybe? I have some business back near my home. So, it won't be for another few weeks before I can come back.” 

Garreth’s eyes wandered as he processed her words. “Then, may I come visit you? If you’ll have me of course.”

She stopped walking. “I’d love that.” She pulled the key out of her pocket and read the number on it. 

“Fantastic!” He sighed in relief. His smile reached his eyes and he looked absolutely bursting with happiness. 

She smiled at his expression and turned the corner. Her steps slowed in front of the second door on the left. “Here I am.” 

Garreth nodded and ran his hand through his hair. “I had a lot of fun.” He admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “I would love to take you out again, soon. Maybe I can visit you this coming weekend? I teach my last class at noon on Friday, so I will be free all weekend starting then.” 

She leaned against the wall next to her door, picking at a piece of loose thread on her jacket sleeve, and smiled. “That would be fine, as long as you don’t mind going on a couple of errands with me.” 

“I would not mind at all.” He smiled wide. “In fact, that sounds like a lot of fun.” 

She absently pulled at the loose thread, a light blush never leaving her cheeks. Garreth looked over his shoulder down the hall then back at her. He shifted his weight from one leg to the other. 

“Could I, er…” He averted his eyes and looked down the hall again, biting his bottom lip.

“What is it?” 

Garreth resolved himself, clearing his throat. He leaned in a bit closer, keeping his voice down. “I want to kiss you… again.” His eyes caught hers. “May I?” 

Her blush spread to her ears. “Yes.” She perked up, ready to press up on her toes at a moment's notice to capture his lips yet again.

“Yes?” Garreth smiled wide.

“I’d like that.” She admitted.

He ran his hand down her arm tentatively. He took her hand again and rubbed a circle on the back of it with his thumb. Garreth was almost a head taller than her now. It was still so strange seeing just how much he’d changed after all these years. She wanted to explore more about him and get to know everything about who he was now. He accommodated their height difference by leaning down. His lips parted ever so slightly as he inched closer to her. She pushed up on her toes to meet him halfway. 

They met in the middle, arms wrapping around one another. They picked up where they left off in his office. She poured every bit of passion she could muster into that kiss hoping to show him just how much the night meant to her, how much he meant to her. Garreth reciprocated her passion like it was a challenge. 

She was lost in the kiss, lost in the fervor, but something prodding her lips brought her back down to reality. She paid attention to their mouths trying to process what it was. Garreth did it again, pressing the tip of his tongue against her closed mouth. She realized he was asking her to part her lips for him. A dizzying rush swept over her, and she relaxed her lips at his request. 

His tongue dipped passed her parted lips in slow sensual motions, gliding over the tip of hers. She hummed at the sensation. Fuck, it felt so good kissing him like this. Her sighs encourage him, and he slipped his tongue in more and more. She pushed against his body eagerly, arms tight against his neck, hands sliding in his silky hair. He pushed back, pressing her body firmly against the wall with his. She could feel just how much this was affecting him as he absently rolled his hips against her.

The soft yearning sounds he started to make were heavenly. He sounded borderline needy and holy hell was it affecting her. Each whimper he stifled went straight down her spine, fueling her burning desire. Weak at the knees, she’d probably slide to the floor if it wasn’t for him holding her up against the wall.

She quickly realized, despite his roaming touches, Garreth’s hands only moved everywhere that was decent, missing all her sensitive places. She peaked her eyes open as they made out, seeing just how lust drunk he was. She noticed the angular cut of his jaw, decorated with hundreds of tiny freckles. His face was beet red and his hair was in shambles. She’d done that to him, she was the one that made him into this mess of a man. 

The realization of the effect she had on him gave her a shot of audacity. When his palm roamed to the small of her back again, she reached back and slid his hand to cup her ass. 

She broke their kiss to speak. “It’s okay, you can touch me.” 

“Yeah?!” Garreth was breathless. His hand was frozen in place. She felt a tremble go through him. 

“Yes… Please. We won’t see each other for a while and…” Was that the best excuse she could come up with? She tried again, the truth this time. “I want you to touch me.” 

He nodded, and his hand squeezed the roundness of her ass. His mouth moved from her lips, to her jaw, and down to her neck. His little nips and kisses made her ache between her thighs. He sucked lightly under her ear, both hands wildly massaging her backside. His tongue swept across her skin sending chilled bumps down her arm. 

Her skirt was riding up with the friction of his enthusiastic movements. He was way more handsy than she expected him to be but welcomed it greedily. The enthusiastic massaging and groping of her ass excited her to no end.  When her skirt rode up too high and his finger touched her bare thigh he stopped. “Is this okay?” His eyes went wide, a pleading look of apology in his gaze.

“Yes!” She didn’t mean to whimper but fucking hell her mind was becoming mush. It was filled with just him, Garreth’s lips, Garreth’s tongue, his hands, his hips, his hard as fuck cock in his pants rubbing against her with every grind of his hips. 

With her permission, he slid both his hands under her skirt, feeling her ass with only the thin barrier of her cotton panties. “Shit,” She panted into his kiss. With his grip manipulating the cloth, moving it around, she could feel just how wet she’d gotten from this interaction. 

Garreth was breathless as they made out. He groaned into her mouth, swiping his tongue as deep as it would go. She matched his energy, and gripped the back of his head, holding him to her lips. Her hands soon began to slide around his hair, touseling his already messy waves. He groaned when her nails gently scraped his scalp. 

Garreth’s hips pushed against her again and she returned the gesture, grinding against him in kind. Her heart was swelling with emotion the longer they kissed. She could have this with him, all the time. She wanted it more than anything. This could be the very adventure she’d been searching for. A life with him, rekindling their childhood flame and making up for lost time for as long as they lived. The butterflies in her stomach doubled.

She pushed his head to the side and began trailing kisses down his neck to his clavicle. She unbuttoned the top two buttons of his shirt and pulled the collar down to reveal more freckled skin. Garreth panted like he’d been chased all the way here, hands still kneading her ass.

She began to kiss his chest as more skin became bare to her. She wanted to leave a kiss for each day they were apart, a kiss for every moment she spent pining after him in school, a kiss for every year that went by where her love for him hadn’t yet faded. 

He slowed his grip and ran his palms up and down her thighs, teasing his finger along her panty line. He was getting bolder and she loved it. She sucked on the patch of skin that would be hidden by his clothes in the daytime. Despite wanting to mark him for all to see, Garreth was a professor now and had a professional life. His racing heart pulsed on her lips as she marked him. She licked and sucked the same spot while he watched, eyes half-lidded. 

“Something to remember you by?” Garreth tried to tease, but it came out as more of a needy sigh. 

“Something like that.” She teased back, breath heady. 

The hickey was smaller than she thought it’d be based on how hard she’d been sucking. She kissed the small mark before letting go of his shirt and hiding it from view.

Garreth’s mouth was on hers in a flash. He left one hand under her skirt while the other slid up her waist. He stopped at her ribs and rested there. 

“You can touch me.” She assured, cupping his face and pulling him into a devious kiss. 

He groaned into the kiss, sliding his hand up slowly to cup her breast. He squeezed her and held his breath. She slid her tongue into his mouth, pushing her chest against his palm. He readjusted his stance to hold both her chest and ass comfortably. 

The squeezing and rubbing sensation was gunning her desire. His hand gripping and sliding along her breast moved the fabric around just right to pleasure the sensitive nipple below. She moaned when he squeezed particularly hard, pressing herself into his arms.  Their muffled sounds of pleasure filled the air as their kisses heated up. Waves of desire and heat radiated between their bodies. 

Garreth gave her ass one last squeeze before daring to press his hand between her thighs. He cupped her pussy and added some pressure. His palm ground into her clit in a circular motion and she cursed. Before she knew it, her hips rocked against his hand fervently. The motion spread her wet desire all over the cloth of the panties soaking through to his skin. 

“Fu-uck” He moaned, grinding his hand against her cunt. “You’re so eager, so perfect,” His voice was a borderline whimper. “...so wet.” he whispered in disbelief. 

“Garreth-” She moaned his name, gripping his shoulders to keep herself upright. 

He kept up his eager pace, grinding his hand in a circular pattern while she rocked her hips. Garreth bit her bottom lip, forcing her mouth open so her moans filled the hall. He then swiped his tongue against hers, kissing and lapping at her mouth in a craze.

She could feel it coming, the release her body was working up to. It lingered on the edge, like a diver working up their courage to take the plunge. Her legs were jelly and her head was swimming. “...Sssso close.” She moaned into his mouth. 

Garreth stopped his ministrations and dipped his hand in the front of her panties and used his fingers to focus pressure on her clit. The feeling of skin-to-skin was blinding. She saw stars at the unbridled sensation. His fingertips were so smooth against her sensitive, throbbing clit. 

She focused on his touch, clenching her eyes shut. Garreth ran his lips along her skin, gently biting the spot below her ear. He squeezed his other hand on her clothed breast, rubbing his thumb along the center. “Holy shit, you’re so beautiful.” He admired. 

“I’m…” She began. The feeling between her legs paused near the peak, holding itself there for an agonizing moment. “I’m going to-” A moan cut her off. The orgasm pulsed inside her, throbbing against Garreth’s circling fingers. 

He sighed, shoulders relaxing, as she trembled in his arms. 

“That’s it, my sweet girl.” Garreth encouraged, never stopping the rhythm of his fingers that got her to her climax. 

She buried her head in his neck, riding out the last remnants of her pleasure. Her breathing soon returned to normal, but her grip on his shirt was just as tight. 

When she settled down, Garreth’s finger left her clit and swiftly slid inside of her. Her post-orgasm wetness allowed him quick and easy access. Her walls trembled against the intrusion, still affected by what he’d done to her, the pleasure he’d given. 

“Oh!” She gasped. Garreth pressed firmly against her wall, sliding in and out slowly. “There… Yes. You’re making me feel so incredible, Garreth.” He was hitting the right. fucking. spot. 

A thought floated into her mind wondering how many women he’d been with to know exactly what to do with her body, but she swatted it away just as quickly. This was about them and them alone.

“Your praises are making me feel invincible.” He nuzzled her face, inviting her to look up at him. “I want more of those sweet little kisses please.” His kind voice was laced with a lingering hint of lust. 

She was in a daze. The world around her was nothing but a dream state. She kissed him again and poured her soul into it. Garreth’s slipped in a second finger, keeping his ministrations shallow, driving her absolutely mad. 

She pleaded into his mouth. “Gar, I need mor-”

“Down the hall and to the left!” The receptionist's voice sliced through their moment. “Have a good stay.” 

“Thank you,” A stranger’s voice echoed. 

Garreth stood up straight and looked at her with wild eyes. “Shit! We're a mess!” He whispered. 

He quickly readjusted her panties and helped smooth down her skirt, shifting it so the zipper was in the back. She began to tame his wild hair with a huge grin. They both giggled as they rushed to help one another become decent again. She didn’t miss the way he wiped his fingers that had just been knuckle-deep inside her on his trousers.  

Just as she fastened the top button of Garreth’s shirt, an older couple came around the corner. She hoped they’d walk past the hallway they were in, but of course, they were booked to sleep in one of the rooms down her hallway. 

She knew they could tell they’d just interrupted something as they glanced them over. Once they assessed the two lovebirds, they looked away silently. Not a word was spoken by anyone as they walked past and entered the room across the hall. 

Garreth flashed her wide eyes and grinned. Once the door was shut, and they were alone again, they both laughed quietly. 

“I am so sorry. I’ve kept you up so much later than you wanted.” He apologized, smoothing down bits of her hair. 

“It's fine,” She smiled up at him, still completely blissed out. She cupped his cheek and rand her thumb along his speckled skin. “I’m definitely not mad.”

He laughed and dropped his head. His cheeks were still stained pink. “Good… good.” He sighed. They melted into a warm hug. “I will let you go now. But-” He spoke quietly. “I can’t wait to see you again already.” 

“Me too.” She squeezed him as their hug lingered. 

When they kissed again neither of them could stop smiling.

“Get some rest. You’ve got an early morning!” He gestured to her door.

“It’s already your fault I’ve lost sleep.” She teased. “Next time…” She bit her lip. “We focus on you…” 

He hugged her again. She couldn’t get enough of his touches. “Don’t worry about me.” He assured with a calm tone. “Now, go to bed young lady. It’s probably past midnight by now.” 

She smiled at him. “Good night, Garreth.” 

“Good night.” 

----------------------------------

Thank you for reading! All my work is tagged as #my writing

Tagging: @ellivenollivander

[sempsimps]

Gregory Violet head cannons + NSFW

Season 4 of black butler has me thinking about a certain emo (Gregory not ceil but check out my friend @serve-corps if your into that) but like omfg he's so fine what for and like man wears lipstick I just he's so adorable I've never wanted to own the manga more in my life he's so- I should stop but like aaaaaa so this is head cannons mixed with actual cannon that was on the fandom wiki so that's fun I was thinking of writing a full story later but for now....

this is head cannons, and at the bottom, I'll have a warning for my nsfw thoughts. lol, just remember you're responsible for your Internet consumption, but before i get into this, it's all my opinions. Don't take it as gospel or anything like that, im having fun, alright? okay then.

Little head cannons

-he likes poetry. He gives that vibe like come on...(literally an hour later) Okay, so like, just seen a manga page of him drawing a jabberwocky around ceil like a sleep paralysis demon. a little back story on this particular poem is "a nonsensical poem about the killing of the jabberwocky" in 1871, apparently. this is very relatable to ceil and Gregory alike and like Google it for real (so like I was completely right about that and I didn't even know)

he smells like a mix of charcoal and acrylic paint like dusty but kinda nice, ya know (i go back to this further down)

-why dose he seem like he has autism, i cant explain it but, i have it to, so I'm not trying to be rude, but the bowtie he wears is like a normal tie but looser and nicer. and i hate ties, so i feel that in my soul. he also seems like he wouldn't like synthetic material idfk. also social situations suck, his voice is mostly monotone and quite, its not the typical "not understanding cues or not getting jokes" but its more like a social anxiety thing, and that's usually diagnosed with autism i think? (I'm not a doctor i don't really know. Maybe I'm projecting here a little)

-he's like defo bi or pan or perhaps an ace group. I'm not that educated on that lgbtq+ aspect apologies but that's the vibe (again, that's my opinion)

Dating head cannons male or female [brackets if pointed to someone with tits lol]

-bones. Need I say more? I like bones and rocks soooo be like, otters give him a bone (not like that-) or rocks he strikes me as a rock guy like smooth ones. idk how, but just get one he deserves it.

-painting dates if you struggle, he can easily guide you through it, his hand gently moving to help you use the right brush stroke. he's clearly more skilled in pencil/charcoal works, though we haven't seen much else [that takes skill and I take art like damn that's difficult]

-So apparently the sun and dancing makes him dizzy (it was on the fandom wiki) so definitely have water on hand and well he doesn't seem like the type to like anything plain becuse of the drink mixing so water is a no go to boring and i get that so grab one of those ball tea infusers and make flavoured water he can put the flavours in it like idk lemon slices and let it sit in the water maybe add suger (wait thats just flat lemonade lol whatever I'm a genius ik don't flatter me)

-stolen hoodie? Nah, stollen emo robe looking ass. it seems everyone in purple house has one, and well, yall could swap, or ya know, just wear his. if he has another obvious man is never seen without it, it could be a comfort for him. but like, he seems like he would have a bigger one, and it would smell so nice like charcoal and acrylic paint (that i mentioned earlier). Don't question it, but you can smell that, right? but there's a hint of passion fruit becuse he's trying for you (aw how cute) you can not tell me he doesn't like perfume and like its either passion fruit or cola adjacent like i know it probably wasn't around at the time but like you can see it (maybe i based this on a meme i found but shush)

-you paint each others nails need i say more? and even if you dont like/want to, he would just like to take time off with you to do his own or you do his. oh my god, I just remembered he wears eyeliner the same thing, but he likes you doing it. For some reason, you're better at it, and he doesn't want panda eyes.

-sneaking out at late to hide behind the boarding house, to just chill or chat, looking at the stars. It's a nice area, but yall gotta dodge the house master most of the time. Still, a little thrill never hurt nobody, just maybe given a Y or two if you're caught.

-hiding in your shoulder when the sun or people get too much to deal with. (I feel that so much)

-Gregory is a mix when it comes to pda. Overall, he doesn't like it could be a little overwhelming for him, but when yall with the other prefects, he might hold your hand, he's trying, and we love him for it.

-Gregory seems to observe his friends a lot, and so i think he truly values any relationships he has with anyone. on a whole, he usually draws people that are around him, like ceil, and i think i seen one of Lawrence. (idk i don't have the manga) so i think he would have a lot of sketches of you, be it in his work as doodles, or fully fledge charcoal drawings, maybe even a painting. but he values and enjoys being with you a lot.

-little snacks like fruit and chocolate almost like a picnic in the swan gazebo, but ya know not sharing with everyone unless Gregory wants to, also the fact your with the others in the swan gazebo is becuse, 1 your allowed to be there they've invited others before, 2 you get along with the prefects and drudges and they really don't care, 3 your either his drudge or the first two already applied before hand so you both seen no point in doing that.

okay, so i can't think of anything else wholesome to put down, and i just can't stop thinking, so now this is the warning I REPEAT NSFW BEOYNED THIS POINT!! ALSO HE IS 18-19 ACORDING TO GOOGLE

NSFW head cannons

- some general things, he's a switch or power bottom idk but i can see it so much he prefers you on top, though

-favourite body part would be chest. tits or not [but defo would love them so much like a stress toy] or the space between shoulder and neck, to hide in and bite....(he is a wolf lmao)

-right, so first off lipstick. oh my god... imagining it smeared in places and having prominent marks on your body made by him, like hickeys but removable. and like after he gives head, it would get so messed up on his face or you and just kissing him with it like that, getting some on your lips... (jesus, i need to touch grass)

-he likes art obviously, and well going back to the lipstick and hickeys, he wants to see what colour they turn, your like a brand new canvas just begging to be painted on by him, and honestly vice versa he's too pretty not to mark up..... (no comment)

-this is an all boys school they most likely don't have sex ed here and so you would have to teach him what to do but once he knows it kinda clicks right ya know [another reason i think he would just love titties becuse he wants to learn and i mean like he would get kinda fascinated with them] also he would be really sensitive in general and that's a great advantage to top (but hey you didnt hear that from me 0^0)

okay then that was that and ive run out of ideas now and i need to get this out of me ive got like 2 more things to write about this emo becuse i love and relate to him so much anyway hope that was good i try to be accurate even though this is head cannons and not real at all im still trying to be in character sorry if my writing sucks :)

[katnissdoesnotfollowback]

Wrapped In Red prompt:

Peeta buys Katniss another set of sexy red stockings for Christmas, along with a matching red jeweled butt plug 🔌

An entire stocking full of coal for you, Anon. Absolutely stuffed with naughtiness. Disclaimer: I adjust prompts as I think fits the characters in the story. Hope you enjoy your raunchiness anyways, Anon. RATED E below the cut.

**

“I’ve been behind all day,” I mutter to Peeta as I practically storm into the house. I’m late getting home from work because Plutarch insisted on us exchanging our Secret Santa gifts before we left, but I ran out of there before I could open mine.

“It’s okay,” Peeta says gently. “We still have time.”

“I really wanted to get a shower before Karina’s concert,” I tell him and snag one of the fresh rolls Peeta must have made for dinner and scamper out of his reach. “But now I have to decide: food or shower.”

“Guess I’ll be dealing with your body odor during the concert then,” he teases and I stick my tongue out at him. I take a bite and try not to moan like a porn star as I clamber up the stairs. I swear I’ve put on ten pounds of carb weight being married to Peeta. But who freaking cares when I get to eat cheese buns like these all the time now.

“Tell Karina she needs to get down here to eat!” Peeta calls after me and I give him a garbled answer then step aside to let Karina pass me.

“Heard you, Dad. I’m coming.”

I start the shower water and finish the roll while it warms up. A quick shower and then I get dressed. My red stockings, a long sweater dress in a soft, warm, charcoal gray knit. I tug on a pair of my nicer knee high boots and quickly dry my hair enough so I won’t freeze and then braid it. By the time I make it downstairs, it’s almost time to go. Peeta hands me a bowl of stew and kisses me on my temple.

“You look lovely,” he tells me and I smile up at him. While Peeta and Karina quickly clean up dinner, I shovel as much of the stew down my throat as possible. Grab a roll for the road, and follow them out the door.

As it was last year, Karina’s concert is lovely. And just as we did last year, Peeta and I hold hands the entire time. His thumb swipes gently back and forth over my skin. I rest my head on his shoulder while the other performers are on stage. When he lets go of my hand to record Karina, I rest it on his thigh.

When we finally make it home, Karina yawns loudly and tells us that she’s going to bed early. Between piano practices and homework, she’s had to stay up late a few nights leading up to the concert. Alone in our room, I peel off my boots then gasp when Peeta’s arms wrap around me from behind and he kisses up the side of my neck.

“You were wearing those stockings the whole night?” he asks and I laugh slightly, leaning to the side to glance at him over my shoulder.

“And?”

“Nothing,” he says. Then he leans in close and whispers hotly in my ear. “I’m just glad you didn’t tell me beforehand. Otherwise, I would’ve been hard the whole time. Would’ve dragged you out to the parking lot and fogged up the car windows instead of watching the whole concert.”

“You wouldn’t have done that. Not during a concert with Karina performing. And not in the car she rode there and home with us.”

“Probably wouldn’t have done it,” he agrees and then gives me a wicked grin. “But I would’ve been thinking about it.”

I scoff and push him away. He then notices the small gift bag I tossed on our bed earlier and picks it up. “What’s this? Is this for me?”

“Secret Santa gift exchange from work,” I explain as I step away and peel off my dress. “I’m slightly afraid to open it since Johanna was my Secret Santa.”

Peeta snorts and finishes changing into his sleep pants and a t-shirt. We brush our teeth standing next to each other and then climb in bed. He hands me the bag as I’m getting settled under the covers.

“Here. Open it now. I’ll protect you from whatever gag gift she gave you.”

I shrug and toss aside the green tissue paper before pulling a small black box out of the bag. Scrunching up my face, I open the box and slide out the inner, clear plastic packaging. I examine the object inside and feel my brow relaxing.

“Oh. That’s not so bad,” I say. Peeta coughs and I glance over at him. His face is all red and his expression is weird.

“It’s not?”

“It’s actually rather pretty.”

“Katniss, honey. Do you know what that is?”

“Of course. I’ve thought about getting a festive wine stopper for us but just didn’t feel the need.”

“Wine stop-- oh god,” Peeta groans and laughs.

“What?” I ask as he falls back on the pillows, covering his face. “Why are you making fun of me?”

“Because it’s not a wine stopper,” he chokes out and sits back up, taking the clear box from me and turning it to show me the miniscule label on the back. “It’s a butt plug. An anal sex toy.”

It takes me a few seconds to register what he’s saying and as soon as I do, I start sputtering. Ranting about how unprofessional it is of Johanna to give me something like this. But Peeta pulls the thing from its packaging, examines the sleek silver stem and the shimmering red jewel that crowns it. Then he tugs aside the sheets and gazes hungrily at my legs, still clad in the red stockings.

“You cannot be thinking of using it,” I snap and he grins at me.

“I mean, it matches your stockings,” he says, and I squeal as he moves into me so fast that I find myself caged beneath his body, his broad palms sliding underneath me and cupping my ass, lifting me up into him as he sucks at sensitive points along the side of my neck. “Fuck, now I kinda wanna see this winking at me from your ass while I fuck you from behind. Or play with it when it’s inside you while you ride me.”

“Peeta,” I gasp.

“Aren’t you even a little bit curious how it would feel?”

“Let’s shove it up your ass and see how you like it,” I grumble, but I sound breathless because of the way he’s kissing me, touching me. He chuckles darkly and slips his hand around my hip enough to tease along my backside. Just gentle touches and swipes of his fingers before he pushes a little harder and I make a sound I can only describe as pained, reluctant pleasure.

“Wouldn’t be the first thing I’ve had shoved up my ass during sex,” he whispers and I shiver, trying not to think too much about his sexual past before me. “And if you wanted to try it, it wouldn’t be the first time I’ve used one with a woman.” Now I’m trying not to imagine him using one with Glimmer. Thankfully, his kisses are insanely distracting and he knows exactly how to touch me so that all I can think about is him. Just him and me.

“I can be gentle with you, Katniss. And it can feel incredible,” he practically growls and lifts his weight off of me, only enough to flip me over onto my stomach. I grip the pillow beneath me and watch as he sets the butt plug on the nightstand.

“But we won’t try anything you don’t want to try,” he says and puts his hands back on me, touching me until I’m a shivering, begging mess. And when he tugs my hips up so that I’m on all fours for him, and I feel his cock parting my pussy lips, I can’t help the quick twinge of curiosity I feel. His left hand is played on my lower back and ass as he slides into me. And the curiosity only grows as I watch the light play off the red gemstone and his thumb once again slips between my cheeks and presses against me. Teasing me without crossing any thresholds. I squirm beneath his touch and bite down on the pillow to stifle the sounds I make, the power of suggestion and the reality of his touch causing a cascade of sensation inside me.

Maybe next time.

[separatist-apologist]

I'll Bet You Think About Me

Summary: Feyre Archerons neighbor stands out on their shared deck each morning.

Totally naked.

Read what the critics are saying: "ITS LIKE YOU DONT CARE THAT YOURE KILLING ME" and "IM CHOKING OH MY GOD RHYS 😂😂😂"

moodboard by @velidewrites, beta'd and written for @the-lonelybarricade who gave me explicit permission to rip off her own neighbor fic, You Look Like Bad News (which you should all go read so she will UPDATE IT FOR ME)

Read on AO3

Feyre worked strange hours. 

She didn’t have to, of course. She rented out studio space downtown that offered twenty-four hour access via a keycard and Feyre found she much preferred to paint at two in the morning…and again at two in the afternoon. In between, she taught a painting class to rambunctious hospital children all the way across the city, and three painting classes at night for adults who liked to drink wine. She had enough money, thanks to some wealthy business man purchasing one of her paintings, to afford one of the nicer townhouses in a quieter part of the city. Did she need that much space? No. But she liked it.

She liked the dark wood floors and the bay window that overlooked the street. She liked the crown molding and having two bathrooms upstairs and half of one downstairs.

And most of all, Feyre liked her neighbor. Rhysand. She knew because she’d once gotten a piece of mail for him, numbered for next door but slid into her box. She’d returned it, turning that name over in her mind.

He didn’t realize she lived there. At least, that’s what she assumed, given every morning he bade his strolled onto the back deck they shared totally and utterly naked. She’d been standing outside the sliding glass door, about to introduce herself to him. 

He’d introduced himself, instead. 

Rhysand. 

Rhysand with his golden brown skin and his muscular body. Rhysand, with his raven’s black hair and eyes so blue that they seemed violet in the early morning sun. Rhysand, with those dark, black inked tattoos over his broad shoulders and chest.

And Rhysand, with his absurdly large cock. She’d heard the phrase shower versus grower, but never had Feyre understood what that meant until she saw the thick, heavy appendage hanging casually between Rhysand's muscular thighs. 

Feyre made sure she was home every morning to see him strut out on the deck. Sometimes he went alone, nothing in hand, to lean against the railing and stare out at the river in the distance. Other times he had coffee or a book. A few times a very naked woman would join him—always different, which made her feel a little better.

It wasn’t as if she had a shot in hell with him. Rhysand looked like he had an expensive job. Like he’d been born into money and his life was merely a natural extension of that. He certainly wasn’t covered in paint at any given time, and the women he brought home weren’t, either.

Still, he was a nice little fantasy. Most morning’s Ferye lied to herself about why she watched him. It wasn’t, she swore, because he was the most beautiful man she’d ever seen.

He was merely a good body study. Examining him so closely, watching the way his muscles shifted and pulled, made her a better artist. And Feyre was consumed with being a better artist. She’d never been able to get past the awkwardness that came from studying nude figures, but since Rhysand didn’t know he was being watched, Feyre didn’t have to feel uncomfortable. 

It took her three months of living in the townhouse to work up the nerve to sketch him. He’d been leaned over the railing, one leg popped out, the other stretched behind him. No penis—only his rather nice ass and the bunching muscles in his back. He stayed that way just long enough for her to get a rough outline of him. 

She hadn’t slept that morning—Feyre had to finish her charcoal drawing. It had made her class that night hell and still, was well worth it. She’d managed to capture his contemplation rather well, which always made her giddy.

A week later, she’d pulled it out again to draw him spread in a chair. That sketch was more self-indulgent and yet the way his cock hung between his thighs, the head pressed to his leg, was more good work. New work. She’d transferred it onto an easel, using oil to draw out his mood and the world around him. 

If he hadn’t been a real person, Feyre was sure she could have sold it. He was absurdly beautiful, even drawn from her own hand. The world deserved to know someone like him existed. 

It was a violation in and of itself to even draw him, let alone put one of those pictures up for auction. It wasn’t as if he knew and Feyre was positive if he learned he had a neighbor, he would have put on pants. 

She managed to stay out of his line of sight for a full six months. She might have managed it forever had they not met on the sidewalk just outside their shared walkway. He had his arm around a giggling brunette. Her dress was riding up over her ass and his tie was pulled off his neck.

Feyre was covered in paint.

The three of them paused, looking at each other. His dark brows furrowed, keys in his hand. 

“Hey, neighbor,” she said awkwardly. He blinked those violet eyes, his expression illuminated under the porchlight.

“How long…” his words were slurred. “Neighbor?” 

“Six months,” she informed him sheepishly. Fuck this was so awkward. Her stomach sloshed with jealousy, unable to take her eyes off the woman running her hand up his broad chest. She wished that was her. 

“Have a nice night,” she told him, jogging towards the stairs before he could ask her anything else. Feyre’s heart pounded just on the other side of the door. He was drunk, she reasoned. He wouldn’t remember this in the morning. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what he was up to, though despite their shared walls, she didn’t hear a peep out of him. 

Whiskey dick was a real bitch, she told herself with more than a little glee. 

Feyre was certain she was in the clear the next morning. She had her sketch pad at the table, coffee steaming from a paint covered mug, when a knock on the front door sent fear skittering up her spine. Feyre turned towards the long hall, well aware of who would be waiting.

It was Rhysand, in a dark suit, and box of donuts in hand.

“I didn’t know I had a neighbor,” he said by way of greeting. “Six months?”

“I’m surprised you remember,” she said breathlessly. Watching him from her window was one thing. Standing just on the other side of the door frame, close enough to breathe in the salt and citrusy scent of his masculine cologne was wholly another. Rhysand was tall, looking down at her with open amusement.

“Can I come in?” he asked when it was clear she wasn’t going to invite him. 

Get it together.

“Yeah, sure,” she agreed, stepping aside. He practically ducked in, eyes sliding over her walls. They snagged on one of her paintings, squinting as though he recognized it. She wouldn’t be surprised. For a whole year, Ferye had advertised her pieces in various restaurants as a way to drum up interest. 

“Do you know what happened to the last woman who lived here?” he asked conversationally. Feyre led him to the kitchen, not bothering to think about what he might see when he stepped in.

“She passed away, I think,” Feyre replied. He nodded, gaze pinned to her closed sketchbook.

“She was nice. Used to bake.”

Did she watch him naked from the window, too? Feyre didn’t blame her if she had. Rhysand set the donut box on her little table, positioned perfectly to watch him on the deck.

“This was really nice,” she tried, unable to take her eyes off him. Rhysand went straight to the closed balcony doors, peering out into the morning light. Was he missing his usual routine? 

“It’s my pleasure,” he assured her, turning so suddenly she stumbled back a step. Hands braced on the counter, Feyre had to blink in order to really look at him. “Six months, huh?”

She nodded, swallowing hard.

“Never wanted to say hi? That’s not very neighborly.”

“I work late hours,” she told him breathlessly. His eyes flicked back out to the deck. “Out late? Up early?”

“Something like that.”

He nodded slowly. “And when do you sleep?”

The question was innocuous. Polite, even. Or, it would have been were it not for the predatory look in his eyes or the way he managed to make that question sound like a suggestion.

“I…” Feyre walked around the kitchen island, putting a healthy distance between them. “When I can.”

He nodded, glancing back at her sketchbook. Nodding towards it, he asked. “You draw? Can I see?”

She lunged, snatching it out of his hands before he could flip it open. He was so close to finding multiple drawings of his own cock. All but panting, Feyre said, “That’s private.”

“Oh, I’m sure it is,” he agreed. She wanted to die. Did he know? Had he guessed? Or was her guilt making her project? 

“Thank you for breakfast,” she told him, holding her sketchbook protectively to her chest. He smiled.

“Maybe you’ll return the favor once you get to know me. I’m Rhys.”

Rhys. 

“Feyre,” she breathed.

“Feyre,” he repeated. He spoke it like a prayer—like a lover's caress. “I look forward to getting to know you better, Feyre.”

And that was it. He left her with twelve really nice donuts and his lingering scent in her apartment. 

She convinced herself it was all in her head. Locked up in her studio, Feyre reassured herself that was just how he was. Flirty. He didn’t know shit. He was just nosy and too nice and she felt guilty that she watched him every morning.

Not so guilty she didn’t return that next morning. If he knew, she reasoned, he would stop. Any sane, rational person would. She was relieved to see him out there, sitting in one of the deck chairs with his legs wide open. It was a familiar pose…though the erect cock wasn’t. Neither was his gaze, pinned to her form. 

“Good morning,” he called, lifting his mug of coffee in the air. “Care to join?”

She couldn’t stop staring at his penis. She’d just assumed the flacid version was as big as he got, but filled with blood and pointed towards the sky, Rhys’s jutting dick pressed against his belly button easily. 

She didn’t move.

“I thought you might prefer drawing me if you were outside, too. Naked, even?”

She turned away to a cajoling, “Oh come on, Ferye, darling—”

Feyre spent the rest of the day hiding in bed, utterly mortified. 

He was more brazen the next morning. Still naked though not erect, Rhys knocked on her backdoor as she was thundering down the stairs for coffee and her sketchbook. She’d never closed the curtains, so Feyre was greeted with his gloriously muscular form and that wicked smile.

“I had a bad day yesterday,” he told her when she froze on the tile of the kitchen, eyes immediately fixated on his cock. “Ask me why.”

“Why?” she breathed, wondering if he could even hear through the glass.

“My pretty neighbor didn’t want to draw me,” he replied. Feyre exhaled a huff of breath. “Am I going to have another bad day today, Feyre?”

“You’re unhinged. Do you know that?”

He smiled. “C’mon. Sit outside and talk to me, at least.”

“Are you going to put on pants?”

He scoffed. “Absolutely not. This is my time, and in my time, I don’t wear pants. Why don’t you take off yours. Turnabout’s fair play, is it not?”

Feyre rubbed her eyes. “Do you want me to say sorry?”

“I want you to show me your sketchbook. Ideally while you sit in my lap,” came his quick reply. 

Jesus Christ. 

“You’ll really let me sketch you?” she asked, stepping a little closer. Rhys grinned, running a hand down his naked chest.

“I’ll let you do anything you like to me.”

She held his gaze. “Give me a second.”

Feyre scrambled back up the stairs for her set of charcoals and her sketchpad. She didn’t dare let herself think about what she was doing, instead running a brush through her tangled mass of golden blonde hair. She braided it quickly, tossing the tail over her shoulder before yanking on a slouchy sweatshirt and a pair of clingy leggings. The more layers, the better she reasoned.

Especially if she was going to sit across from her neighbor, who was so absurdly hot it made her knees shake.

Rhys was waiting in his chair, ankle crossed over his knee. He frowned when he saw her. “You’re wearing more clothes.” “I need them,” she informed him frankly. He uncrossed his legs just in time for her to press her thighs together. 

“I’ll bet you don’t.”

“Is this how you treated the last neighbor?” Feyre demanded, as if she had any leg to stand on given how many pages of his naked form she had to flip through in order to get to a blank page. 

“Mrs. Robinson would have loved an offer into my bed,” Rhys said with a suggestive wink. “Honor her memory, Feyre.”

“Have we graduated from nude drawings to…” God she couldn’t even say it.

“I wouldn’t say no,” he agreed, his words practically a purr. 

“You were bringing a woman home two nights ago,” she snapped, hating how jealous she sounded. Ferye couldn’t look at him as she began thumbing through her set of charcoal. “I’ll bet your sheets still smell like her.”

“You think I wouldn’t wash my sheets for you?”

Fuck him.

“I like drawing you,” she managed, heart pounding in her throat. “I’m sorry if I made it weird.”

“Draw me again,” he insisted, some of his teasing. “It’s not weird at all.”

Feyre wasn’t sure that was true, but for an hour that morning, Rhys sat utterly still and Feyre sketched without having to move so quickly, fearing he’d move or shift or leave. It was odd to show him in the aftermath and worse still when he yanked the sketchpad from her hands and flipped through it, wide-eyed.

“Are these all of me?” he asked her, turning one to the side so he could view it better.

“There are others that aren’t,” she mumbled, embarrassed. “You’ve been my muse since I moved in.”

He caught her wrist before she could escape back inside. “I’m happy to be your muse.”

Their eyes locked. “Sorry for watching you naked.”

He smiled. “Don’t be.”

Feyre spent the rest of her day all but floating. 

I’m happy to be your muse. 

She wanted to show him the oil painting she’d done—which, despite him not realizing he was even the subject, was still some of her finest work. She thought he might appreciate it, if only to make some lurid comment about having sex with her. 

Ferye was still in a good mood as she set up her classroom for painting with adults. People—usually couples—paid for a two hour art class during which they could also drink while they did it. Very rarely did Feyre get a painting that looked good when a bunch of novices added alcohol to the mix, but it was her bread and butter in terms of getting her rent paid. Feyre was looking forward to that night because she had an interesting prop—a large, gleaming sword. Set atop a faded purple pillow, and when the light overhead hit the metal, different colors shone over silver, depending on where that person sat. There was depth, there was the chance for nuance. She, herself, spent her prep time painting an example from where she sat, setting it on an easel behind her.

People started pouring in around seven fifty…including her fucking neighbor and the most beautiful blonde she’d ever seen in her entire life.

“Don’t be annoying,” the blonde said the moment she stepped inside. She was immaculate, dressed in a tight red dress that hugged her body and tall heels that made both her and Rhys nearly the same height. His cheeks were inflamed the moment those violet eyes landed on her. 

Oh fuck him.

“Sit down,” the blonde ordered, practically shoving him into the chair at the far end of the room. It wasn’t uncommon for women to drag unwilling partners…but usually it wasn’t because the teacher had drawn their cock just that morning. 

Any decent person would have left. Rhys, apparently, had no decency in him. He shrugged off his crisp black jacket and began rolling the salmon colored sleeves of his shirt up to his elbows. He looked stunning in gray slacks and a belt she might have been fantasizing about had he not brought a date to her class.

Feyre was forced to wait for the rest of the pairs to arrive. A giggly bachelorette group occupied the front row, clearly already drunk, which gave Feyre something to fixate on. 

“Hi!” she said, too brightly despite how firmly she was gripping a paint brush. “I’m Feyre–”

“Tell us about your credentials, Feyre,” the blonde interrupted. Her painted red lips curled with amusement. Rhys elbowed her hard in the ribs. “And your hobbies. What do you like to do for fun?”

“I’d like to know that, too, actually,” a man—who’d come in a larger group of couples, and was clearly their seventh wheel—added with hopeful eyes. “Are you single?”

Rhys started to stand, only to be yanked back in his chair by his date. 

“I can’t imagine how that’s appropriate,” Feyre replied smoothly. “Why don’t we pour a drink and then I’ll describe what we’re painting—”

“Looks like a sword,” that guy called again. “I can show you–”

“Shut the fuck up,” Rhys called darkly. “And let her talk.”

“Right.” Feyre swallowed hard. “The bar is at the far end of the room. Pour yourself a drink and grab a case of paint on your way back.”

Feyre leaned against the wall behind her, heart hammering in her chest. The rest of the room moved towards wine and other spirits—except for the blonde. She sashayed towards Feyre, tossing a long lock of her golden hair over her bare shoulders.

“I still want to know the answers to my questions,” she said, revealing two rows of perfectly straight, utterly white teeth. Fuck, she was so pretty. Not a drop of paint on her. Feyre’s chest tightened.

“I got a BA in fine art from Velaris U—”

“Good school,” the blonde murmured appraisingly. Brown eyes swept over her, framed by mascara coated lashes. She looked so well done, and Feyre couldn’t blame her. This was obviously Rhys’s type. 

“And your hobbies?”

Feyre blinked. “I paint.”

Her laugh was pretty. She chuckled, nodding. “I guess I walked right into that. Anything else?”

“Can I ask why you want to know?”

The woman stepped closer, clearly about to offer Feyre some secret but Rhys’s voice interrupted.

“Mor!” he barked. “Come get some fucking wine.”

Mor rolled her eyes, as if to say men, amirite? The whole thing was so utterly strange that Feyre had to walk back with the group to pour herself some wine, too. Mor was there, and when Feyre reached her, she murmured, “Red or white?”

“White.”

“Hm. I like red,” she said, though she handed Feyre a little plastic cup of white wine all the same. Mor turned again, to ask some other question, but the man who’d interrupted her was also waiting.

“Sorry about that guy's outburst,” he told her earnestly. “I wasn’t trying to be weird.”

“Sure,” Mor said on Feyre’s behalf smoothly. “What were you gonna say, anyway?”

His cheeks darkened. “I just think a sword is a cool prop. Can’t wait to show you what I do with it.”

“Oh, gross,” Mor whispered while Feyre smiled. 

“I can’t wait to see what you come up with,” Feyre said. This was still her job, and the last thing she needed was some man complaining because she couldn’t be friendly. It wasn’t the first time someone had hit on her.

It wouldn’t be the last. 

“Morrigan!” Rhys hissed, earning another eye-roll. 

“You could do better,” Mor whispered, “Than my terrible cousin.” 

Feyre choked on her breath of air. “Cousin?”

Mor merely laughed, walking back to Rhys who, to his credit, looked as if he wished the floor would open up and swallow him whole. 

Cousin. He’d brought his cousin to her painting class? Why? Feyre couldn’t tease it out…but she could punish him for all the jealousy she felt when he’d first walked in. Mor was having a lovely time, despite being a terrible painter. She spent most of her time drinking and telling loud stories about Rhys as a child, which the group of bachelorettes loved.

Rhys didn’t. He kept elbowing Mor, his eyes darting to Feyre as if to say I’m so sorry.

And maybe he ought to be sorry. If only a little. Feyre walked around the room, surveying people’s work and offering help when they muddied their colors and drew something absurdly phallic—like the guy who asked if she was single. Feyre frowned when she saw it, leaning closer.

“What is this?”

“A sword,” he replied, holding his wine close to his lips. “Do you like it?”

“Seems misshapen,” she murmured. “Something you should see a physician about.”

His friends beside him choked with laughter, drawing a scowl from Rhys across the room.

“One of your talents?” he crooned, smoother than she’d prefer.

“Not likely.”

She sent everyone home with their terrible drawings, grateful to shut the door in their faces—including Rhys and his very lovely, very nice cousin. He’d tried to speak to her on the way out, his eyes all but pleading but Feyre lacked the emotional capacity to hear him out. 

As if it mattered. As she began cleaning up the stations, Feyre found Mor had left her a little note on the clean piece of paper beneath her own painting.

Rhys has a crush on you. You should ask him out.

Feyre stared at it for a long time. Long enough the shop next door went dark and she had to walk to the parking lot herself. She took that piece of paper with her, folded up in her pocket as she drove home.

Rhys has a crush on you.

Rhys has a crush on you.

Rhys should think she was a pervert, she thought wryly. Had he told his cousin about her? And—oh God, what had he said? 

He was waiting on the front steps when she pulled up, parking in their shared driveway just beside his own nicer, shinier car. He pulled open her door before she could cut the ignition.

“I’m so sorry,” he breathed, the scent of his cologne overwhelming her senses. Even under the harsh porch lights, Rhys was too handsome to stay mad at. And she wasn’t even mad.

Just embarrassed. 

“I told Mor I liked you,” he rushed out, his cheeks flaming red. “And she suggested we catch up and talk. I didn’t…I didn’t think she was insane enough to look you up.”

“She seemed nice,” Feyre offered mildly, walking towards her front door. It was so odd to see Rhys stumbling over his words. Where had his smoothness gone? 

“She’s a menace,” he retorted. “I ah…”

Ferye turned to look at him. 

“Can I show you something?” he asked, hand on his own door. “Pants on, I swear.”

“Is this the part where you chain me up in your basement?” she teased, following just behind. She was curious about his place, if nothing else. 

“The only chains I keep are on my bed—no don’t go, that was a joke—”

Feyre crossed her arms over her chest. “Don’t make this weird.”

Rhys only sighed, gesturing for her to come in. 

Their set-up was exactly the same. Dark wood floors and crown molding. The same layout, the same ivory colored walls. He’d done a much nicer job decorating than her, which included several really lovely pieces of art on his wall.

“Up here,” he said, hand gliding over a mahogany wood rail as he led her up. Feyre’s heart pounded, well aware Rhys was taking her to his bedroom. To see the chains? A big part of her almost hoped so. She was so busy thinking about what he could do to her and how much she’d like it, that Feyre didn’t register what he was showing her when he pushed open his bedroom door.

She only saw the bed, draped in black with a pretty white throw tossed over the bottom edge. Rhys cleared his throat, as if he realized what she was looking at—his headboard, free of any restraint at all. 

On the unbroken wall the two of them shared, was a painting that was all-too familiar to Feyre. Framed in silver lovingly, it was her work. 

Feyre whirled to look at him. “You?”

He swallowed hard. “I keep it there so it’s the first thing I see in the morning,” he admitted. “It makes me feel…” he paused, hand pressed to his chest. 

“You paid too much for it,” she whispered. “It’s how I bought my place next door.”

His eyes lit up. “It's my fault you’re my neighbor.”

“In a way,” she agreed with a laugh she didn’t quite mean. 

“Lucky me,” he murmured, taking a step towards her. Ferye needed to get out before she did something stupid. Something wholly foolish, like fucking her neighbor as a thank you for buying my artwork. 

“I uh…” she cleared her throat. “It's been a long day.”

“Have breakfast on the deck with me tomorrow,” he told her, his hands clenched to fists at his sides. 

“Pants on?”

He shook his head. “No pants, Feyre.”

She took a breath. “We’ll see.”

Feyre fled on trembling legs, not daring to take a breath until she was in her own bedroom, back pressed to the wall her painting hung on. She could hear him moving faintly on the other side, though whatever he did wasn’t clear to her. Not immediately, anyway.

Not until Feyre slipped into her own bed naked, hand snaking between her legs. In the dark, every little noise her neighbor made was magnified. 

He grunted. It was such an obscenely sexual noise that Feyre whimpered in response. Silence settled between them, and then Rhys’s voice called through the wall. “Can you hear me, darling?”

Don’t respond, don’t respond, don’t respond— “Yes.”

He exhaled a loud, almost needy sounding breath. “Why don’t you go in the kitchen and see what you do to me?”

“I’m not wearing any clothes,” she told him, speaking louder than she wanted to so he would hear her.

“Fucking kill me,” he groaned softly. “Go downstairs, Feyre.”

Maybe it was her lust that drew her upwards. Or maybe it was knowing that Rhys had liked her before he’d ever even met her. Maybe he was just hot and it had been a year since she’d been the object of anyones sexual desires. Whatever it was, Feyre wrapped a blanket around her body and padded down the steps, calling, “I’m going,” before slamming her door loudly, just in case he hadn’t heard.

He must have run. Rhys was outside, chest heaving, by the time Feyre pulled back the blinds on the sliding door. He was utterly naked, illuminated by the light he’d flipped on and his massive cock was all but twitching in his hand. He was watching her with an intensity that made her whole body ache. 

“Take off the blanket,” he ordered, walking to her door to open it. Feyre was grateful she’d locked it. Rhys could tug all he liked. She wasn’t letting him in. 

Not tonight.

She did drop the blanket though, scooting forward in the chair so her toes were pressed to the glass. Legs spread open so he could really look at her. Rhys pressed his broad hand against the glass, resting his forehead against the door.

“Feyre,” he practically begged. “Open the door.”

“I don’t think I will,” she whispered, running her hands up and down her thighs. “That wasn’t the deal.”

“Feyre—”

“Show me what I do to you, Rhys.”

His free hand was still wrapped around his cock. When he stroked, Feyre couldn’t stop the soft whine that escaped her lips. He was exquisite and watching him pleasure himself while staring at her spread open pussy was so erotic Feyre could scarcely breathe.

“Touch yourself,” he rasped. “Show me how you like to be touched.”

“Thinking about touching me?” she tried to tease, though her fingers brushed her swollen clit all the same.

Rhy’s eyes fluttered shut for a moment. “Open the door, Ferye. Let me show you.”

She was tempted. So tempted her arm jerked without her consent, her body desperate to know what it would feel like to have his big, broad hands on her. 

Feyre dipped two fingers into her body, her stomach flipping when Rhys practically whined at the sight. Coating herself in her slick arousal, she trailed upwards, leaving a glistening path over her stomach as she toyed with her breasts. 

Rhys looked like he was seconds from falling to his knees, to begging and pleading to be let in. 

“Tell me what you would do,” Feyre ordered, bolder than she’d ever been in her life.

Rhys’s lips parted as her hand left her nipple, sliding back to rub indolent circles over her clit. 

“Feyre.” His voice was the softest plea, his breath fogging the glass. “Let me taste you.”

She arched her neck. “You talk a big game.”

“Let me show you,” he ordered roughly, pulling the door handle again. Stupid, she was so stupid. 

She leaned forward, fingers still sticky, and flipped the latch. Rhys pounced, pulling the door open so hard it bounced on the hinges. He didn’t care, not when cool air poured into her kitchen and certainly not if he broke the thing. 

He took four steps, hitting his knees so hard she could hear his bones groan in protest. Hands gripped her hips, yanking her forward until she had to drape her legs over his shoulders. He didn’t ask, didn’t say a gloating word. Feyre wasn’t certain he had any speech available to him at that moment. 

Feyre squealed when his tongue slid up the length of her. He hadn’t been lying on the deck. Rhys only adjusted his hold, pulling her to the edge of the chair until she was practically sitting on his face.

“Fucking hell, Feyre,” he moaned, the sound muffled as he sucked her clit between his lips. 

Oh God, she thought. He was so obscenely good with his tongue it ought to be a crime. Feyre gripped the edge of her chair, the only thing keeping herself from sliding into a puddle of wet nothing. 

Feyre had to press the balls of her feet against his naked back to keep from flying upwards. Rhys didn’t offer tentative licks or act like her last boyfriend every time he’d been between her legs. No hesitance—Rhys kissed, practically swallowing her with an urgency that made her whole body ignite with pleasure. 

Rhys ate pussy like he was hungry. It wasn’t pretty or elegant—he was messy. She couldn’t take her eyes off him, watching how his jaw worked, how his eyes held her gaze. Gauging, she realized, to see if she was enjoying herself. It took Feyre a moment to let go, to realize he wasn’t doing this just long enough to get her wet before he pushed himself into her. 

He was eating pussy because he liked it. 

Feyre carded her fingers through his dark, silken hair. “Rhys,” she panted, digging her heels into his back until there was no way Rhys was breathing. If he cared, he didn’t say. Hands kneaded at her thighs, her ass, anything he could put them on to heighten her already hot pleasure. It was a crime that a man as hot as him was as good with his mouth as he was. How did anyone stand losing him? 

“Rhys,” she breathed again, wondering if their neighbors could hear how loud he moaned into her. He’d figured her out too quickly—fucking her with his tongue until she was all but riding against his face, before dragging upwards to circle and suck at her clit. She felt wild, utterly out of control. Feyre pulled at his hair, all but ripping it from his scalp. It only made him moan louder.

“Rhys!” she pleaded a mere moment before she detonated around him. Her legs shook, clamping against his ears. Rhys pulled her closer still, tasting her release with hungry abandon. She had to push him off her to get him to stop.

Rhys yanked her to the floor, pulling her into his lap for a wet, messy kiss that tasted like her arousal. She was practically dripping wet, could feel the sticky slickness coating her thighs. Feyre clung to his powerful shoulders, sliding her tongue over his until they were both grinding on the floor, overcome with near feral desire. 

Rhys was the one who lifted her in the air like she was feather light, breaking the kiss long enough to keep them both from toppling back to the unforgiving tile. He walked her out into the late evening chill and set her atop the smooth rail of the deck. 

“Tell me,” he began, nipping kisses over her collarbone. “Is this what you imagined when you watched me?”

She didn’t answer at first—he sucked her nipple into his mouth, reigniting her arousal all over again. She could practically feel his tongue back on her clit. She wouldn’t have stopped him if he’d gotten back on his knees. Feyre slid her hands down his chest, halting when she felt the wet tip of his cock brush the back of her hand. 

Rhys moaned against her skin as she gripped him, pumping the thickness of him in a hand that hardly felt big enough to hold him. 

“Is it?”

Oh God, she’d forgotten he’d been speaking.

“No,” she whispered. “I just thought you were beautiful.”

The hungry look on his face softened for a moment. “You’re so lovely,” he whispered, teeth against her neck. “I’m going to fuck you, Feyre, and afterwards I’m going to take you to my bed and show you just how lovely you are.” She was still pumping his cock, her thumb slicking through the precum practically weeping from the tip. How did he seem so controlled? Feyre was losing herself entirely.

Rhys replaced her hand with his, pressing closer until he was notched against her. Feyre waited for him to thrust in and when he didn’t, too busy teasing her with his wicked mouth, she wrapped her legs around his waist, dug her heels and his ass, and pushed him into her body.

“Fuck,” he cried, loud enough to disturb nearby crickets singing sweetly in the grass. Speech eluded Ferye entirely as she adjusted to the fullness of holding him. It was almost like her first time—the stretch was a pleasant sort of pain. 

One hand on her hip, the other around her neck, Rhys began driving into her. The slap of their skin meeting was louder than the singing crickets and the street traffic just outside. Feyre didn’t care. She hoped someone looked out their window and saw what he was doing to her. 

Rhys’s hand was big enough to span the entirety of her neck, his fingertips pressing just enough to leave her breathless. 

Rhys dipped his head, licking just behind her ear. “You should have told me you were watching,” he whispered, teeth sinking against her lobe. He tugged and Feyre moaned, tightening around him. “I would have fucked you months ago.”

She dug her nails into his shoulders, pushing her feet until he was practically pounding with bruising force into her body. She’d never been more turned on in her life. The air kissed against her overheated skin, stimulating her just as surely as his hands and cock was. He was dragging her up back up in a way no one had ever managed before. The precise roll of his hips, the way he paid such careful attention to each little whine and whimper all added to the exquisite drag of his cock. He knew what he was doing.

“Rhys—” he covered her mouth with his own, swallowing her scream greedily as her pussy clamped tightly around him, drawing him deeper and practically holding him still. Feyre was wrecked, could barely breathe as a second orgasm ripped its way through her.

Rhys was all but rutting into her, whimpering with need. He was going to come—Feyre could practically feel the way his heart throbbed. His careful rhythm faltered, hips pushing and pushing until he dropped his hand around her throat to bite against her shoulder. His own release was dizzyingly erotic, only adding to her pleasure.

“Up,” he whispered, kissing her neck as he lifted her back up against him. He was forced to withdraw so he could walk. She whined in protest.

“I’m not done with you,” he informed her, walking her back through his place. Rhys dropped her on his bed where she could see that painting hanging on his wall. Proof, perhaps, that they’d been meant to find each other.

Rhys crawled up her body. “I’ll never be done with you.”

Feyre thought she wouldn’t be either.

[talentforlying]

— BASICS: JOHN CONSTANTINE.

▸ IS YOUR MUSE TALL / SHORT / AVERAGE?    slightly taller than the average at 6'0" even, but he tends to slouch and lounge a lot so he often looks shorter when standing, taller when sitting.

▸ ARE THEY OKAY WITH THEIR HEIGHT? yeah, mostly. considering hell seems to have something in the weetabix making every demon fucking massive, he wouldn't mind an extra couple of inches so he's not always being intimidating at chin-level, but he's pretty confident in his appearance and doesn't care much for something he can't change.

▸ WHAT’S THEIR HAIR LIKE? soft, curly, natural blond with light grey (which will eventually be white) coming in around the temples & part. usually just long enough to droop into his eyes when left un-gelled.

▸ DO THEY SPEND A LOT OF TIME ON THEIR HAIR / GROOMING?    depends on his mental health, but usually yes. he's got hair masks, a bunch of different pomades & mousse, and he often shaves his chest & plucks nose hairs. he's got a multi-step skincare routine, is not averse to putting on makeup, and tends to experiment with different colognes in combination with whatever scented products he puts in his hair. in a low period, it's all charcoal soap + 3-in-1 shampoo-conditioner, slap some water on his face and go, but on average he spends a decent bit of time on upkeep.

▸ DOES YOUR MUSE CARE ABOUT THEIR APPEARANCE / WHAT OTHERS THINK? not much personally these days, and not so much cares. it's more that he's aware of how his looks can make an impression under specific sets of circumstances (be it a good or bad impression), and hyperaware that with his current reputation, he might need to make a fairly big impression at any given time. it's usually important to his survival that others perceive him the way he wants them to and he knows that all too well, but at a personal level, he couldn't give less of a shit whether someone side-eyes him on the street as a fop or he's dressed down for dressed-up company.

— PREFERENCES.

▸ INDOORS OR OUTDOORS? bit of a toss-up, but indoors. he often feels too exposed if he's outside for too long.

▸ RAIN OR SUNSHINE? he doesn't particularly mind either, but finds that rain is usually thematically reflective of his mood.

▸ FOREST OR BEACH? the beach. he doesn't swim, or like sand, but it has good memories for him.

▸ PRECIOUS METALS OR GEMS? precious metals, they have utility; they can be shaped to serve a purpose, and signify things like love and commitment. he's seen people do some truly heinous shit for gems that'll just sit in a vault or on a shelf somewhere later, doing fuckall; he can't bring himself to value them the same way.

▸ FLOWERS OR PERFUMES? perfumes. smelling them involves fewer bugs, and often nicer circumstances.

▸ PERSONALITY OR APPEARANCE? personality. you can dress up a shit in armani all you like, it still won't stink any less.

▸ BEING ALONE OR BEING IN A CROWD? being in a crowd. he loves people, most of the time; loves to brush up against the edges of their normal lives.

▸ ORDER OR ANARCHY? a measure of both, ideally, but order's not worth shit if it comes at the cost of personal freedoms. anarchy, on the other hand, is usually pretty fun.

▸ PAINFUL TRUTHS OR WHITE LIES? immensely circumstantial. but there's no point in ignoring a painful truth when it's right there in front of your face, or in refusing to deliver it when it's right there in your hands, and denial starts to piss him off past a certain point.

▸ SCIENCE OR MAGIC? is he a joke to you?

▸ PEACE OR CONFLICT? peace, all the way, every time. he wants peace for himself so badly. but as he says about conflict & violence, "you can't pretend it isn't happening, right?" similar to hard truths, if fists are about to start flying then there's no point playing pacifist and hoping no one hits you; and if someone needs a good telling-off, regardless of the delicacy of the environment, then he's more than happy to shake that tree.

▸ NIGHT OR DAY? night, when he has space to think. besides, no one's going to stop to question a guy in a trenchcoat wandering the streets in the dark.

▸ DUSK OR DAWN? dusk, right when the pubs start picking up with life and laughter and the stars are starting to come out.

▸ WARMTH OR COLD?   warmth. he always thinks of jacko and people like him when it's cold.

▸ MANY ACQUAINTANCES OR A FEW CLOSE FRIENDS? he doesn't mind either, so long as he has company, but his life is at its best when he's got a few close friends to hang around who truly know him.

▸ READING OR PLAYING A GAME? reading. he devours books like a termite.

— QUESTIONNAIRE.

▸ WHAT ARE SOME OF YOUR MUSE’S BAD HABITS?    smoking incessantly is always the first one that comes to mind; running his mouth regardless of whether he can back it up if things escalate is another. abruptly running out on people without telling them why is a big one, especially when there's emotional conflict involved. he's terrible at apologizing in a way that sounds as sincere as it's meant, because he shies away from the vulnerability of admitting he was wrong and ends up sounding breezy or dismissive instead. he tends to read people's mail if he thinks the packaging "looks interesting". he treats his body like a punching bag and it never occurs to him how often he might get his friends in trouble because they (shockingly) care enough about him to want to defend him.

▸ HAS YOUR MUSE LOST ANYONE CLOSE TO THEM? HOW HAS IT AFFECTED THEM?   so many people. his dad's death and his sister's death especially fucked with him, because he feels that both were directly (or indirectly if he's feeling generous with himself) his fault. his dad's death led to him killing a man, which has haunted him ever since; his sister's death led to his estrangement from his niece because 1) she blamed him and 2) he ran off and avoided her + the funeral arrangements when she needed him around most, which he'll always regret. the latter also really, indelibly soured his outlook on life + magic + himself.

his friend header's death is another significant one: it's the one that convinced him to try to go things alone whenever possible instead of asking for help when he needs it, because he'd asked header for help and that's what got him killed; it also heralded the deaths of most of his friend group at the time, which only cemented his resolution to try and keep his friends as uninvolved in his problems as possible.

▸ WHAT ARE SOME FOND MEMORIES YOUR MUSE HAS?    going to the beach with his dad & sister as a kid, the wild days of touring with mucous membrane, staying with brendan & kit in ireland after ravenscar, his 40th birthday party, sitting with dani & their friends watching rich the punk attach skis to the roof of a van, catching up with chas after a long time apart, pissing off the roof of ravenscar after winning ownership just to let it rot.

▸ IS IT EASY FOR YOUR MUSE TO KILL? no. never. he's killed one person in his whole life (at least directly, with his own two hands), and it has haunted him ever since. even the idea of leading someone to their unavoidable death (like he did with gary lester) makes him sick at heart; although he's found peace with the idea of leading someone into a position where their own actions will inevitably get them killed, because most of the people he does that to are assholes who could choose to make a different decision at any time.

▸ WHAT’S IT LIKE WHEN YOUR MUSE BREAKS DOWN?    tsunami: an ominous retreat from emotion followed by a roaring tidal wave of self-destructive behavior, alcohol, and engaging with his hallucinations that makes it suddenly and abruptly clear to anyone who's only ever seen the put-together occultist or the insouciant con man that this guy is always wearing some mask or other, because this new person before them is not fucking alright and hasn't been in decades. it's a mess, and it's ugly, and it leaves a lot of debris in its wake. he knows this, and he tries his best to break down anonymously / in secret when he can: pushes people away or gets them pissed at him enough to leave on their own, then either finds some open-late haunt to terrorize that has a high enough tolerance to let him drink for a while and aggressive enough bouncers to throw him out when they're sick of it, or seeks out strangers who will fight him / fuck him into realizing it was a bad idea.

on the other hand, if someone he knows and trusts sticks it out through every attempt to scare them off, then he will have no recourse but to crumple and sob like a little kid in front of them, and that can be just as terrifying as — if not more so than — the anger issues and bad decisions.

▸ IS YOUR MUSE CAPABLE OF TRUSTING SOMEONE WITH THEIR LIFE?    capable, yes, ostensibly. does he? rarely. it's more common for him to trust someone not to fuck him over as an accomplice while he's gambling with his own life, than for him to place the whole of it completely in their hands. it's more often that he's surprised when the people he trusted enough to keep informed choose to back him up when he needs it most.

▸ WHAT’S YOUR MUSE LIKE WHEN THEY’RE IN LOVE?  sentimental, silly, soft. cleans up his act and appearance, gets more careful, socializes more, finds hope in the little things. optimistic. tries harder to live. smiles and laughs without a trace of bitterness behind it. replaces every pain-soaked, value-defining cornerstone of his life with pictures of them. comes in soaked from the rain because he saw some flowers they liked & stopped to pick them / realized he was passing their favorite restaurant & doubled back to pick up food / got lost in thought & ended up walking to the place where they met. stresses about being good enough for them. forgets their birthday, then scrambles to make up for it. rewires every pathway in his life to revolve around them.

he's not always healthy about it, he's not always good at it, but he loves with every fiber of his being and basks in the warm glow of having a future that isn't quite so lonely, even as he waits with bated breath and eyes shut tight for it all to come crashing down.

[lily-drake]

[Bio!dad Dick] when Dick had amnesia and became 'Ric Grayson' He hooked up with a traveling Sabine. He later discovers when looking into his old things when he was Ric he had been contacted by Sabine who told him he has a daughter named Marinette (maybe 5 years old now?idk), during his time as Batman (with Bruce 'dead', Tim missing, and Damian being well Damian) Dick makes the hard choice to stay out of his daughter's life to keep her safe from the world he lives in, but watches from a distance when he can. Before he knows it more years pass and he wants nothing more than to meet her but feels like it's to late. However everything changes when he goes down for patrol and finds one of his brothers at the batcom with a file of Marinette open, and the words 'Master Fu, ex-guardian' 'Mutlimouse, Known' 'New Guardian?'. And files on a Ladybug hero who bares a striking resemblance of his daughter.

Ric Rolled

Note, Ric/Dick is 21 at the beginning of the story while Sabine is 23.

Ric Grayson liked his job as a taxi driver.  He learned a lot about the people in his city and even people from outside of it.  But he always felt like he could be doing, or rather was meant for something more.  Ever since he had left the hospital once the bullet wound was healed, he felt like he was missing something important from his life.  It was his 21st birthday, and he decided to celebrate it at one of the nicer bars in his city.  

“Hello, is this seat taken?”

A gentle voice spoke from beside him.  Ric slowly turned his head and saw a beautiful woman with charcoal black hair, silver eyes, her makeup was done naturally, and her dress was a beautiful red and gold knee length qipao.  

“No, you can sit here.”

He replied, gesturing toward the seat on his right side.  

“My name is Sabine.”

She spoke as she gestured for the bartender.  He didn’t respond, just took a sip from his glass.

“So what’s brought you here tonight?”

Sabine asked in a honeyed voice.  Ric thought about whether or not he should answer that question, his already addled brain found nothing wrong with it though.

“It’s my birthday.”

“I see.  You celebrating with anyone else?”

“Afraid not ma’am.”

“I see.”

Her voice was like that of a siren.  Enchanting and full of life.

“Let me buy you a drink, whatever you want.”

Ric smiled at the lady and nodded.

“Thanks.”

“Of course.  No one should spend their birthday by themselves.”

One drink led to another, which led to another, which led to a night that Ric hadn’t imagined he would have.  When he awoke, he was alone, only a note.

Thanks for last night.  Hope we can meet again one day, Ric.

~Sabine

Ric let out a groan, his head pounding up a storm.  He wasn’t going to be able to work today.

_________

3 years later

Dick Grayson stared at the screen in front of him in shock.  He remembered bits and pieces of his time as Ric Grayson, but he liked to pretend that those three years of his life never existed.  But as he stared at the information in front of him, he wasn’t so sure he could ignore it for much longer.  Turns out he had a daughter, and it had to be his because “Ric Grayson” was listed as the father on the copy of the birth certificate that he had been sent and the girl–his daughter– was just barely 2 years old.  

Sabine had sent him a letter, but he had never seen it before as he had moved on from being Ric by that time.  It was pure luck he even stumbled upon the letter in the first place when he was cleaning up the rundown apartment that he had stayed in.  The overwhelming feeling of need that he felt at the thought of meeting the little girl, Marinette, was so overwhelming he couldn't think of anything else.  Even breathing felt like a chore.  He imagined being a real father, teaching her to read, watching her color, listening to her stories, he could even teach her gymnastics.  It was a wonderful fantasy.  But that was it, a fantasy.  One that came crashing down with the sound of a katana slicing through a training dummy.  

He shook his head as reality came crashing in around him.  Bruce was dead, Tim was missing and probably hated him, Jason left the city, and he needed to make sure that Damian was being taken care of, he needed to be Batman and protect Gotham.  He took a single minute to mourn what could have been before he stole himself and closed the files.  She would be safer and happier without him.  From what he saw Sabine was in a relationship with another man in Paris.  He could watch after her from a distance, but it would be better if he was as far away from her as possible.  It seemed everyone he loved got hurt in some way, and he would make sure that nothing would happen to her by keeping his distance.

_________

8 years later

Dick stared at his phone.  There was a picture of a young girl at a sewing machine with the brightest smile.  She had hair as black as Sabine’s and his eyes.  She was growing up so fast and now that everything was working out he desperately wanted to meet her.  But it has already been so long, it was probably too late now.  She had Tom as her dad now.  He had another daughter now, he and Kori had finally tied the knot, and now they had little Mari’.  It wasn’t intentional, in fact it was Starfire that had named her that.  It made his heart hurt when he thought of his other daughter.  He often wondered if his girls would get along with each other if they ever met.  

He sighed as he set down his phone and looked around the cave.  He was in Gotham for the weekend just visiting his family—which was finally happy (well, as happy as they could be) together— with his wife and daughter.  Star would be down soon, she was just putting Mari’ to bed.  Star knew about Marinette and often encouraged him to reach out, and though he was thankful for her support, he was still too scared to approach her.  

He could hear the fast click clacking of the Batcomputer’s keyboard, and as Bruce was upstairs he knew that it had to be Tim.  Slowly he walked down the stairs to make sure that his brother hadn’t been down here for a consecutive 56 hours again.  He had been getting a bit better at taking care of himself, but he knew Tim and which meant that if Tim found something overly important all of Tim’s own needs would be put aside until he was sure that he had finished everything.  

“Tim, how long have you been down here?”

He asked as he carefully approached his baby brother from behind.  Tim didn’t answer, he just kept clicking and moving things around on the screen.  There was strike one, Tim may not always answer, but his shoulders would often either scrunch up or relax.  And as neither of those reactions happened he may not have heard him showing how tired he was as Tim was one of the most aware and attentive one out of all of them.

Dick got closer to the screen and looked up to see what was so important to Tim.  There files upon files of absolute chaos and destruction filling the screen.  It looked horrifying and Dick couldn’t believe that it was real as if this was anywhere on Earth or even in space they would have heard about it by now.  On the top and bottom right monitors there were files of three different people open at the moment.  On the top there was an image of a girl with strikingly familiar blue eyes, dark raven hair, and a face he was staring at only a few minutes before.

Marinette Lenoire Dupain-Cheng

Identity (Known): Multi-Mouse (First)

New Guardian?

Pupil of ex-Grand Guardian: Wang Fu

Age: 11

Ethnicity: Asian-American

Location: Paris, France

Mother: Sabine Cheng

Birth Father: Ric Grayson

Step-father: Tom Dupain

Dick gulped as he read through the data.  He hadn’t told his family about Marinette, but now they would know.  He had told Starfire before they had gotten Married, and he was so relieved when she still accepted him, still loved him despite his mistake and cowardness.  But he kept reading.  He would have to process that his daughter was a hero, a hero at the same age he was.  That his efforts to keep her out of this type of life were all in vain and that it didn’t matter now.  That he was a failure.  He started reading again.  

Wang Fu

Identity (Known): Ex-Grand Guardian

Belonged to “The Order of the Guardians”1

Age: Unknown

Ethnicity: Unknown

Mother: Unknown

Father: Unknown

Needs to be further investigated

Then there was the final one.

Ladybug

Identity: Unknown

Age: Unknown

Origin: Unknown

Father: Unknown

Mother: Unknown

Relatives: Unknown

Source of power: Earrings

Power: Creation and restoration

Danger level, high.  Need more data.

Tim studied the girl before him.  He didn’t like what he saw.  He looked at the picture of Ladybug, then the picture of his daughter, then the picture of his daughter in a mouse themed suit, then back to Ladybug.  Dick was going to be sick, he was going to pass out, he was going to have a panic attack.  He should have just been part of her life.  Maybe if he had been in it she wouldn’t have had to become a hero.  Maybe it was because he stayed out of her life that she unintentionally followed in his footsteps.  He was a terrible father, how would he tell them, how would he tell her?  What was he going to do now?  

“Dick!  Dick, you need to breathe!  Come on Dick, please breathe with me.”

There was a distant voice talking to him, but it was so hard to hear over the raging voices in his head.  What was he supposed to do now?  It was too late for him to just insert himself in her life.

“No it’s not Dick.  It’ll be okay.  I won’t tell anyone, it’s your news to share.”

That was a nice thought, but there was no way that the others wouldn’t figure it out now.

“That may be true, but they’ll respect your boundaries and wait until you feel comfortable enough to talk about it.”

The voice said.  Dick tried to breathe, he could feel his hand against something hard yet soft, and he clutched onto it.  He could feel a gentle beating against his hand and slowly he began to even out his breathing all while the voice seemed to rattle on, saying things that he couldn’t seem to process as he focussed all of his efforts into simply breathing.  How pathetic, he couldn’t even breathe right.

“You’re doing so go.  That’s right, deep breath in, then a slow long breath out.”

Dick leaned forward until his forehead was resting against Tim’s shoulder, silent tears that he hadn’t even realized were falling leaking onto the boy's shirt.  He could feel Tim’s arms slowly wrap around him as they both sat on the floor, silent except for the chittering of the bats and the light drip of water from the ceiling.  

“What am I supposed to do?  It’s too late to meet her, and now she’s in danger, she’s like us.  I stayed away to keep her away from this life and it was all useless.  It didn’t matter, I could have been in her life all this time but I didn’t and now-”

Dick let out a shuddering sob, unable to finish the sentence.  Tim was frozen; he didn't know what to do.  He could count on one hand how many times he had actually seen Dick cry.  It was always so strange and foreign and he never really knew what to do.  So he held Dick even tighter, rubbing his older brother’s back as he cried.  He could feel someone’s gaze on them from above and slowly looked up to see Jason and Bruce, eyes wide in shock at the scene.  Bruce snapped out of it first, racing down the stairs until he was at Dick’s side only a few moments later.

“Report.”

He barked panickedly, unsure of exactly what to do to help his oldest son.

“Dick found something out and he’s in distress.  I’m not allowed to say what about as it’s his business to tell.”

Tim replied automatically, but he never let go of his brother though he glanced over to the Batcomputer.

Bruce looked over the data on the screen and nearly short circuited when he stumbled across the name of the father for Marinette/Multi-Mouse before he glanced down at his son.  He understood the distress of his son when he had just discovered that he in fact had a child.  Not knowing about Damian until he was ten because Talia had hidden his existence from him had been heartbreaking.  He could only imagine what it felt like for Dick who loved those he was close with and trusted with all of his being.

Slowly Bruce bent down glancing at Tim who slowly nodded and backed away a little, but Dick only held on tighter with a slight whimper.  Tim looked like he was in pain himself.

“It’s okay Dick, Bruce wants to give you a hug too.”

But Dick didn’t let go of his little brother.  The little brother he nearly lost to Ra’s, to The Widower, to Lady Shiva, to the Joker, to so many people.  He clung onto the boy even tighter, he didn’t want to lose anyone else.

“Okay, okay, I’ll stay here with you.”

Tim whispered softly, pulling Dick closer.

“You’re going to have to pick both of us up B, he’s not letting go, and I think bad things will happen if I try to move away again.”

Bruce grunted in his ‘I understand and I’m really worried’ way and carefully picked up both of his sons, moving them towards the upstairs family den.  Jason had already left to get Alfred, worried about his big brother, but unwilling to admit it.

“We’ll figure everything out, you’ll get to meet her.  I think that she’d love to meet you.  You could just take Star with you, we could watch Mari’ for you.  I’m sure everything will work out, don’t give up.  It’s never too late Dick.”

Dick didn’t know how much he believed those words, but Tim was right.  He needed to go visit her, he needed to make things right.  But until then, he would hold onto the family he had now, because they loved him and he loved them.  He loved the daughter that probably didn’t even know existed, and he protected the people he loved.  So he would need to protect her, and in order to do that, he would need to finally meet her.  He would never give her up, he would never let her down, and never again would he desert her.

Taglist:

@aespades @adrestar @astrynyx @doll246 @queenz-z @toodaloo-kangaroo @crazylittlemunchkin @seraphichana @miraculous-ninja @dorkus-minimus @mysticsoulgirl @ritacrow-blog @snow-leopard-777 @fidget-eep @sometandomstuff333 @lady-phoenix-of-tardis @shreeing @achaoticmess1 @miraculous-ninjabird @liquid-luck-00 @buginetye @stainedglassm @prettylittlebutterflie @laurcad123 @iloontjeboontje @heartsong18 @raeuberprinzessin @when-no-wings-do-broomsticks @jennifer-rose123 @moon5608 @corporeal-terrestrial @skitarii-alpha-c6-555 @saltysugarysembei @phantom120 @kking13 @depressed-bitchy-demon @a-slytherinish-gryffindor

[khalixascorner]

Foundations Pt 1

Summary: After agreeing to let Tony take care of him, they have to establish the foundations of this strange new dynamic. Peter stumbles a bit along the way, but Tony's there to catch him. Part 2 of the Priorities Series.

Tags: Slow Burn, Like so slow it's glacial, Still technically pre slash here, Platonic BDSM, for now, Dom Tony Stark, Sub Peter Parker, Friday and Karen gossip

Read on AO3

It was child’s play to find the evidence he needed to disgrace the Osborn heir. A few clear photos of the underage heir drinking and doing lines off of his latest fuck of the week and he was out. Jetted off to somewhere in Eastern Europe where they wouldn’t look down on him for that behavior while the American media had its day with his reputation. 

Meanwhile, Tony was outside of Peter’s apartment. As he waited for the younger man to come down, his mind was already planning upgrades and new safety measures if Peter still meant what he said. Tony was starting to get impatient when Peter came rushing out the door, his hair still slightly damp but dressed in the charcoal slacks and deep blue shirt he had sent. It was the first test because Tony had also included shoes, socks, and underwear with a note for Peter to wear them. 

“Sorry for making you wait, sir,” Peter gasped as he slid into the passenger seat. “I was trying to work ahead on some homework and lost track of time.”

Tony waved it off, willing to let it slide this once since Peter wasn’t officially his. 

“How were classes this week?” Tony asked instead, pulling the car out to head to the restaurant.

“It was crazy busy,” Peter replied with a sigh. “We’re not quite to finals yet but everyone is already starting to ramp up for it.”

“Anything in particular giving you problems?” Tony asked, glancing over. 

“Not really,” Peter said, waving off the concern. “It’s just a lot of final projects, papers, and extra assignments that the teachers want turned in early.”

“Nothing you can’t handle then,” Tony agreed. 

-----------------------

Tony kept the conversation light as they drove, and Peter found himself relaxing in the older man’s presence. It had been so long since he’d been around his mentor that he had almost forgotten how nice it was when things had been good. Had stored it away in his memories but couldn’t help but wonder how much was fabricated versus real. 

The restaurant was nicer than anything Peter had gone to in recent memory. It was also louder. Voices rose and fell in a discordant symphony that made him flinch. Silverware clinked against fine porcelain dishware with the occasional clatter of a busboy hard at work. 

Peter tried to take a deep breath, hoping to bring it under control, only to be swept under an aromatic assault. Notes of citrus and vinegar from a nearby table’s salad burned his nose, only to be covered up when a waiter walked by with a seafood dish that turned Peter’s stomach. He tried turning away from it, only to get a nose full of a woman’s overbearing perfume as she handed off her coat to the maitre d’. 

His eyes watered, and Peter could only be distantly embarrassed as a complete overload threatened to literally bring him to his knees. He hadn’t even realized he had closed his eyes until they shot open in surprise when a warm weight settled on his back between his shoulders. 

“This way, Pete.”

Tony’s voice was like a beacon to orient himself by, and the heavy weight of his hand was an anchor to his body, grounding him against the external stimuli. With a bit of effort, he could pick out the faint hint of Tony’s cologne and the background smell of coffee and metal that always clung to the man. 

His focus narrowed until only that spot of warmth, familiar scent, and low baritone mattered. Everything else was muted and ignored so completely that Peter didn’t even realize when it all disappeared. 

“-te, Pete? Take a deep breath now,” Tony’s voice rumbled in his ears, and just as always, Peter couldn’t help but obey. “That’s it, in and out. Nice and easy.”

Ever so slowly, his senses returned. Hearing was first, with Tony’s soft commands to breathe and the steady beats of their hearts filling his ears. He basked in it, tension falling away and his shoulders dropping as the anticipated pain never came. 

As if the movement triggered it, his sense of touch came back next. Awareness spread from Tony’s hand on his back to the one now holding his wrist. From that second point of warmth, he felt a third, underneath his palm. Smooth fabric with buttons rose and fell beneath his hand, while a rhythmic thumping pounded away steadily. 

Touching the fabric, realizing it was Tony’s shirt, helped his brain remember what clothes were. Suddenly, he was very grateful that Tony had provided the entire outfit because instead of rough cheap blends, all his skin felt were soft smooth cottons and silks. 

He let himself relax further, still not opening his eyes but daring to take deep breaths. Tony’s scent was safe and familiar, flushing out the memory of the others, and finally giving Peter the courage to open his eyes. 

“There we go,” Tony murmured as their eyes met. “I was getting a bit worried there, kid.”

“S’rr- s’r,” Peter mumbled, still not quite up to talking coherently as his system finished its reboot. 

“Nothing to be sorry for,” Tony said quietly. “I’m gonna go out on a limb here and say you haven’t had that happen before just from going to a restaurant.”

Peter shook his head, eyes fluttering when the room seemed to spin. 

“Alright, spider kid, let's get you sitting down and some water I think,” Tony said, slipping his arms more firmly around Peter as he guided him to a seat. Thankfully, it was a booth and he could rest against the wall as Tony stepped away to speak with someone at the door. 

Peter drifted in and out while he waited for his mentor to return. His limbs felt like lead and it was a losing battle to keep his eyes open for more than a second. 

“Drink,” Tony commanded even as a cool glass was pressed to his lips. 

Peter started with a sip, only to realize his mouth felt as dry as a desert. Tony didn’t let him gulp it down, but it was a close thing. The drink wasn’t water, Peter realized only halfway through the glass but instead was lightly flavored lemonade. The sugar seemed to perk him up, and by the end of the glass, there was only a little residual shakiness left. 

“Better?”

“Much, thank you,” Peter replied, unable to fight the flush of embarrassment.

“None of that, kid,” Tony said with a wave. “Everyone’s got weird quirks from their super powers. It’s a thing, so don’t feel bad.”

“Even you, sir?” Peter asked in a moment of braveness. Tony looked at him, gaze heavy for a long moment before replying. 

“I compulsively upgrade the suits because there’s always the next bad guy, the next random power that could get used against us,” Tony said softly. “My brain can’t help but try to quantify the threat and pre-make at least 3 potential solutions. Not quite as fancy as weird metabolisms or allergies from super soldier serums, but it is what it is.”

“Oh, ah- thank you. For telling me,” Peter said, suddenly feeling shy. “I, ah, it's more than just the metabolism but yeah. Lots of weird quirks from mine. Guess that’s the trade off from my powers coming from a spider instead of a bottle in a lab.”

“Nothing we can’t work around with a little bit of applied brain power,” Tony said confidently, leaning back against the booth. “Now, I ordered a wide variety of relatively easy to eat foods that aren’t too pungent and they’ll all be brought out in individual courses with palette cleansers in between just to be on the safe side. Eat as much as you like, but don’t feel obligated to finish anything you don’t. This is just a chance to get a feel for what you like.”

Tony said the whole thing so casually and yet, Peter still felt blindsided by the thoughtfulness and also willingness to put others out. Surely that would drag their dinner on extra long, and rooms like these were probably in high demand. Yet, Tony didn’t seem to care in the least. Peter wanted to argue, to say it wasn’t necessary, but the hint of challenge he could see in Tony’s gaze deterred him. 

“Thank you,” was all he said instead. 

Tony’s pleased smile brought a small one to Peter’s face as a warm feeling bubbled in his chest. Making Tony happy and proud had always made Peter feel happy as well, and it seemed like years apart hadn’t changed that. 

“Not a problem, Pete,” Tony said warmly. “I take care of what’s mine.”

Peter shivered and just nodded, eyes dropping to the table. 

---------------------

Tony wanted to say more but their first course arrived before he could open his mouth. He bit back a sigh, knowing that Peter needed more than just lemonade to help him bounce back from the strange reaction to the restaurant. Tony hadn’t seen one of the kid’s overloads in years but they seemed worse than ever if that one was any indication. 

He held his peace though, as course after course came out. At first, Peter seemed unsure about trying the food that had set his senses off just a short while ago. However, the time to relax had done the younger man good, and after a few bites, he was digging in with gusto. There were one or two he seemed to like less, and Tony had Friday make a note of it for the future, but otherwise, he kept the light conversation going, eating a few bites occasionally after Peter had commented that it was weird to be eating alone. 

Tony didn’t fight the satisfied feeling of seeing Peter taken care of properly. He was dressed in the clothes Tony had picked for him, eating the food Tony ordered, and all around looking happier than when he had seen him just a few days ago. And Tony hadn’t even gotten to his true gift for the night.

Only after a large dessert spread was laid out before them did Tony finally bring his phone out.

“So, I had one more gift for you tonight,” he said, activating the holo function as Friday brought up headline after headline. “I told you earlier that I wanted you to really think about it before saying yes to me. To understand the lengths I would go to. And well, I think this makes a pretty good sampling.”

Tony watched as Peter read the headlines, eyes going wide and they flicked from Tony to the holos and back to Tony again.

“He-he’s really gone?” Peter asked, his voice almost fragile.

“Yeah, he’s gone. Because I’m not gonna leave someone around that could hurt you when I’m not there to protect you,” Tony said. “You didn’t want to involve campus security or the cops so the issue’s been resolved without your name being involved at all.”

“How- it’s only been three days- that’s, it shouldn’t be possible,” Peter said, his voice an awed whisper. 

Tony wasn’t expecting quite that response, but he wasn’t going to complain about it either. He was trying to be fair, trying to ensure Peter knew what he was getting into, but he also knew what he wanted and exactly how to get it.

“I told you that I take care of what’s mine, Peter,” Tony said solemnly. “So now the question is, are you going to let me take care of things? Of you?”

----------------------

Peter’s heart was pounding in his chest like when he squared off against the villain of the week. He felt like he was about to launch himself off the top of a building without checking that his web shooters were full. A leap of faith. Faith that Tony would catch him. That the older man meant what he said and would follow through on it. Life had beaten Peter down again and again, had taken everything from him that mattered, but maybe that made this easier because he had nothing to lose.

Peter took a deep breath and looked Tony straight on, unflinching despite his trembling hands that he hid beneath the table.

“Yes, sir.”

[larcenywrites]

The Boy Next Door

Chapter Two: Dirty Laundry

Warnings: None

Word Count: 4K

Masterpost

Tony Stark.

The name rang so smoothly in your head, and that morning-heavy tone still reverberated off the walls of your brain. It had you struggling to suppress an overly giddy smile even as you lifted a lighter box onto the naked queen-sized mattress. You couldn't pretend that the encounter alone hadn't left your insides fluttered, but you had to laugh a little at the cheesy flirt, that sudden enthusiasm in his flaunty stance and flexing arms. That elusive smile had meant business, so politely going along at your aid, yet that smug grin was anything but— a not-so-hidden agenda. 

Both facades were enough to have you on your knees, but mostly with the help of those innocently fluttering lashes and soft jawline. But that wasn't all that stood out the most. Maybe at first, already starstruck long before you heard that name. Stark. Quite the household name, and with the way he held his head so high, it must be the real deal. You knew that face was oddly familiar in a sort of vague in passing way. Probably on the cover of a Business Insider that was on the kitchen table one day or even on some M.I.T. review page. But that was the only place you ever expected to see it, not quite literally brushing shoulders with him. Sure, this was a nice neighborhood and all, but you expected a millionaire family to be somewhere more secluded. Well, his house still looked a little bigger than yours, if it meant anything. 

Honestly, you didn't know much about that Stark name other than knowing it was tagged onto advancements in tech and world-changing inventions, and even those credentials belonged not to him, but to his father. If anyone would know more, your dad would. You'd be sure to bring it up when he got home from the storage unit that he'd slowly filled up over the last few months in preparation for the move. 

In fact, the boxes you'd brought in today were the last few things you couldn't quite part with for the weeks leading up to leaving, or didn't trust to sit in a storage unit in another state for weeks at a time. For you, that was small potted plants tucked into the box in front of you, another stuffed with sheets and pillows and a scarce week's worth of clothing when most of it was brought to the new house and hopefully wasn't just a pile on the floor of the walk-in closet. And, of course, you had your own box of unpartable trinkets and photos and books. 

But now it was time to bring a little more life to this half-inhabited house. You opened the box, revealing a few small vases of house-friendly greenery. You glanced over, observing where the late morning light fell in your room. The window right next to you seemed to have the best access to the sun. Light spilled over the carpet and across the dresser. Lining your aloes and other succulents along the wall tracing the dresser's edge, you spent far too long arranging and pulling, trying to puzzle the different colored pots in a way you liked. One thing was out of place, made it hard to work with next to the much rounder vases. You looked back at the window. The longer, rectangle-shaped would fit much nicer on that white windowsill, you deduced. Taking the cold ceramic in your hands, you made your way to the window. You looked out of the glass panes as you set down the little array of plants. You're breath caught at the sight of the opposing window, or rather what was behind it, and much closer than you previously thought. 

It was almost eerie, how easily you could make out charcoal-colored sheets with white stripes, messily fitted onto what looked like a queen-sized mattress, sitting longways nearly right in front of the window level with yours. You could even partially make out a lamp on the nightstand closest to you. No wonder he'd been so interested, but even with the knowledge of your nearly invading spaces, he still hadn't drawn any blinds or pulled any curtains. This house has been empty for a year or two, and there was once a guarding line of trees, so he probably hasn't had the need to for a while. Maybe he just liked the morning light, or had a plant or two himself. Or maybe he just didn't care. 

You, on the other hand, did care. For yourself, at least. You couldn't deny that morbid curiosity had you eyeing over at the glass panes even as you continued unpacking, now

pulling bedsheets from one of the boxes. You were well aware that this was no advantage to you— if you could see in so clearly, he could too. You'd be sure to hang that pair of curtains as soon as you found them. For your privacy, sure, but maybe they'd deter your wandering eyes, and definitely his too. 

But those wandering eyes were currently too busy to be doing any perverse peeping. You needed to get the rest of your room together, starting with fumbling back and forth around the mattress with the fitted sheet and unboxing the rest of that surprisingly heavy box that had only contained clothes and blankets. With your bed done, and may or may not be just as messy as your pals across the way by tomorrow night, you dragged that box into the roomy square space that was your closet. The last and only time you'd been up here, a few weeks ago now, you'd brought most of your clothes, still arranged just how you liked them. You were pretty sure you could hear that loud whirring of the garage door as you sorted out what to hang and what to put away. All you really had left in that last box were books and trinkets and framed photos. Nothing too hard to put away. You set it on top of your bed for later, and gave the neighboring room one more glance. You weren't sure what you were expecting to see, but you weren't exactly relieved to see it empty. 

"That was fast." You bounded your way into the garage, obviously in a much better mood than when he'd left. 

"Well, it wasn't too far away," he said, already making his way toward the back of the truck to let down the tailgate. "I'm more surprised I got it all in one trip." You were surprised too. You could already see boxes piled in both the backseat and the front (which was probably illegal considering you're pretty sure he wouldn't have been able to see out of the back window or the passenger side mirror), and a sigh wracked your whole body at the cardboard sea you laid eyes on when you made your way around. This was going to take a while. 

You hadn't even glanced at a clock since you stepped out of the car, and that was probably hours ago now. You hardly had any plan at this point, mindlessly flipping open boxes and just taking things wherever they needed to go instead of focusing on one room at a time. Not the most productive, but it kept you on your toes, and at least you got to switch up the scenery. The next box you opened was the one that had started your whole day. You looked back at the mantel above the fireplace, its emptiness a little more empty now that the jutting stone heart was decorated with various potteries on either side. Home wasn't a static place, but it was close enough when you could assemble it like one. One by one, you made the same arrangement you'd made before with those little snow globes of various cities and unwrapping a small framed photo or two to sit at the end. Usually, there would be a candle or two, but they had been pretty worn down anyway, so you decided to get new ones at some point. Maybe a color that would actually bring some, well, color to this mostly beige and white room. 

You finally took a certain trinket into your hand, but it didn't need to remind you of the events it caused earlier. Even with all of the day's busy work, there was still one thing that nagged at your brain. You bit your lip, trying to bring it up casually, but you were probably the only one that ever overthought these things. "Did you know our neighbors are Starks?" You asked nonchalantly, not sure how else to bring it up. 

"Starks?" He said the name so offensively, as if to make sure you had the name right. "Like Stark Industries?"

"I think so," you said it so unsure, too busy observing that scuffed dent behind a New York City skyline. It wasn't too noticeable, you hoped. "Do you know any other Starks?" 

"I'm sure there's a few," he quipped at your sarcasm, but his curiosity was sated enough to agree. "How'd you figure that one out?" 

You paused, debating on how to answer the question. You put another snow globe up, the stirring snow in the globe next to it soley knowing your secret. Maybe you shouldn't bring it up that you'd let a stranger into the house. "One of them stopped by," you started, and decided that was where you should end it. "Said his name was Tony Stark." He hummed at the revelation. 

"Yeah, that's Howard Stark's son." You knew he'd know something, working in a lab and all, and probably being much more well-read about this corner of the world. He probably even uses Stark-branded tech. "I haven't heard the best of things," he added on, tone full of gossip.  

"He didn't seem so bad," you muttered, slightly discouraged from your previous excitement, but you tried to sound optimistic. "He also goes to M.I.T.," you tagged on hopefully, but it didn't change the topic's mood. 

"Yeah, and I hear he's been arrested at a frat party there too," he deadpanned. 

"So has every other college student, what's you're point," you defensively spat, trying to cover it up as a joke. 

"Touche." Your dad was quiet, but in a thoughtful way. Not in a way that implied you'd won. "I don't know. It's not exactly a secret that he gets up to no good," he started up again, but decided it was best left there. He probably didn't have a real argument anyway, just some overheard gossip from techs that have probably floated through a Stark lab only once or twice. "Just make sure to keep your nose clean and focus on school," he finished, tone dismissive. You weren't exactly sure where his defensiveness of the topic came from, but he probably wasn't sure where yours came from either. 

A disgruntled "yeah" was all you could utter back in reply, a reluctant agreement. Well, even millionaire families had dirty laundry, you supposed. They were still just that: families. You worked in silence, pulling another globe from the box, and kind of glad that this one wasn't the one that Tony had caught. Fake snow was settling around a tiny plastic igloo, and a rather cartoon-ish chicken in a tuxedo. It was supposed to be a play on penguins, you think? How they look like they're wearing tuxedos or whatever. It was a silly gift from co-workers. Without context, it just looked like a cheap, tacky novelty item to get a quick laugh and a quick buck, but it did sort of have meaning behind it. Poultry scientist- ever heard of it? Yeah, you probably wouldn't have ever heard it either if the poultry scientist in question wasn't your father. Honestly, it sounded like a job title one would make up on the spot, but it made enough sense to pass as real. Someone had to check in on all those hatcheries, and breeders, and houses, and farms, and someone had to be willing to travel to all of them to keep them in check. It made good money, at least. Especially now that he was doing two sides of the job-- the fields and the labs. It always kept him busy and traveling, but the free time and privacy it gave you weren't so bad. It let you get away with far more than you'd ever admit, and maybe you already had another idea in mind on how to take good advantage of his next absence. You weren't all that sure why they actually moved him up here. Something about new houses, new chickens, new foods, new vaccines. A lot of stuff that you didn't know much about, but you nodded along anyway. You suppose it was easier to keep him nearby than make him travel back and forth every week, and as with any kind of science and even livestock, things can change drastically within minutes. Of all the cool sciences out there, you had to say this one was pretty underwhelming. 

But you had more important things to do than to silently trash your dad's profession. While he was busy taking his things upstairs, you tackled dragging boxes into his office. The large room shared the same hall as your bedroom. There was already a rather large desk in the room, topped with shelves that complimented the just as empty bookshelves on the opposite wall. One by one, you dragged boxes that somehow seemed to get heavier every time, and the culprits inside were stacks of books, files, papers- you name it. Things that you probably shouldn't be hiding wherever you please, so, well, maybe you'd tackle the kitchen instead. At least they were out of the way now so you could drag even more boxes through the kitchen. You tried not to pant, opening up another one. Thank god something was already organized for once. Silverware was already organized and sitting in a drawer-sized tray, sat neatly on top of stacked plates. The hard part was deciding where to put everything. 

Though the kitchen still lacked the, uh, rooster-themed decor that might be better off staying in the box, you'd leave that for your dad to sort through. For some reason, you looked in the refrigerator, where you weren't very surprised to see nothing, and neither was your father. "I'm sure I could pick up a pizza tonight," you heard him say, his apologetic tone walking past you. 

"I don't really see another option," you teased, closing the door and going back to your work. "Do we even know where one is?"

"I've explored a bit when I came up here," he claimed hesitantly, "I think I know one nearby." You shrugged, a common form of agreement these days, and shut the door. "That's fine." 

While your father was out of the house, you continued to pull at boxes in the living room. Books for the bookshelf, photos for the side tables, even a little clay bowl you'd made years ago in a pottery class that he'd always wanted to put in the middle of the coffee table. Maybe rather reluctantly, you kept his tradition, lumps and all. 

The rays of light that had stretched across the carpet were slowly getting shorter, bright natural light growing darker with the approaching orange tint of the evening. The curtains you'd finally found would have been much more beneficial earlier, but at least you found them. Finally fixing them over the windows that circled the room, the low rumble coming from the garage still caught you off guard. You'd find your own curtains later, buried somewhere in there, but it would be nice to finally eat for the first time since this morning. You wondered if those observing eyes had studied his sera or silver of your room by now, too. 

You both settled into those dark green recliners, completely ignoring the finished dining room right next to the kitchen. The house was eerily quiet. Boringly quiet. The voice next to you shared your thoughts. 

"I guess we need a T.V. in here, huh?" 

You huffed a laugh. "Can we go shopping tomorrow?" You asked hopefully, perking up.

"Sure," he laughed. You sat in silence for a few more minutes, noticing that the sun rays that had been spilling across the floor were nearly gone. 

"We can finish up everything else tomorrow," your dad sighed tiredly, standing up from his seat, "I'm gonna call it a night pretty early tonight." 

"I might do a few more things," you mumbled quietly, handing him your empty plate when he offered his hand. 

"Knock yourself out," he joked tiredly. There was a clank as plates hit the stainless steel bottom of the kitchen sink. "Goodnight."

"'Night," you called back, waiting for his footfalls to fade before you got out of your chair. By a few more things, you meant the rest of the folded curtains you'd found, and namely yours. You pulled the long fabrics from the box, making sure to turn out the light as you did and following the light from your room to find your way back. You took down one of the empty rods and laid it on your bed, which had been used more like a workbench today. One by one, you threaded the loops of each curtain onto the rod, carefully setting it back onto its two hangers over the window before starting on the one you'd been dreading. The room was still dark, almost unseeable with the setting sun. You took down the other curtain rod and slid it across your sheets, getting ready to do the next set, until your focus was abruptly shattered. 

"Tony!"

You jumped out of your skin at a booming voice that seemed to ricochet between the facing brick walls. The fury in its tone had every hair on your body standing on end. Shit, it had you feeling like you'd fucked up. You rushed to your window either out of curiosity or fear. You had to strain to see, temple pressed to the cool glass like some overly nosy neighbor interested in the next-door family drama. But, more importantly, you were still more nosy about their pretty son. Maybe even concerned. In the evening light, you could hardly make out two figures. The one you thought you recognized was rushing his way up a row of steps that descended from his front porch. Behind him followed another, who you could only assume was the aggressor you'd heard earlier. Your suspicion was confirmed when he repeated himself, now making his way up the same set of stairs. Tony was out of sight now, probably long gone through the front door that you couldn't see, but you sure as hell heard it when the older man made his way out of your sight as well. The door slammed with such a loud force that the traveling echo was enough to vibrate the air in your lungs, or maybe it just jolted you to the core. Even millionaires had dirty laundry. You could hear your dad saying something along the lines of "I told you so", but somehow you were pretty sure that this didn't prove anything about the troublemaker you're father was trying to sell you earlier. 

You glanced into the room you'd discovered earlier. It was still dark and unmoving. Any of the ruckus inside was drowned out by the sounds of the night. It would be wise to cover your tracks before you were caught snooping. It wouldn't exactly be the best look, now, would it? You turned back to your bed, quickly looping the curtains onto the rod and sliding it into the frame above the window. You could adjust them better later to make a path for the light to reach your plants, but for now, all you wanted was to cover up the view of both your bedrooms. Curiosity would probably get the best of you again later, but that box on your bed was still waiting to be unpacked. It was as good a distraction as any, better than a pair of thin curtains. You practically dumped the contents onto the sheets, getting a better idea of what you were working with, and it helped that in order to go to bed, you needed to actually put away the pile first. And the idea of finally going to bed after the long day you've had was enough motivation. 

You kept a much lighter library for yourself, or for your room at least. Only a few favorites and current reads got the privilege of taking up space between the two bookends you were currently taking out of their bubble wrap. It didn't take you nearly as long to decide how to organize your belongings this time. Books lined along the desk, your favorite knickknacks, personal treasures, and old photos along your dresser and nightstands. Arranged how you'd always done it. You turned back to your bed, taking the black alarm clock to the side table and sitting it next to its usual partner, the lamp. You turned on its light to help you see, and bright red numbers flashed when you plugged it in. Flashing the wrong time, of course. What time was it, actually? You walked over to where you kept your accessories, digging through until you found your watch. 9:30 already? It wasn't necessarily late, but after being on the road since four in the morning and spending the day unpacking, it made you realize just how long the day had been. With your bed almost cleared off, you quickly reset the clock by your bed (and maybe passed by the correct numbers a few times). You gathered what was left back into the box to carry down the hall and into your bathroom. 

The room was painted another yellow shade and mostly plain. Maybe you could get some mats and another shower curtain other than the clear liner, but that was a task for later this week. Or tomorrow. Hell, you didn't even have food in this house, so a shopping trip was needed much sooner rather than later. You tiredly sighed aloud, setting up various bottles and brushes. You caught yourself in the hanging mirror when you stepped in front of the sink. Yep, still you! Only this time, the wall behind was different than the last time you checked. And you looked more than a little tired... Hopefully not this tired when you ran into your new friend earlier.

 You cut off the light and made your way back down the hall. Speaking of your new friend, the window sure looked inviting. You cut off your light, room only illuminated by the lamp, but instead of getting into bed and cutting it off, you gave in to temptation. One more time, just to check up on him... Like he needed you, hardly an acquaintance, to pretend to do so. But you had to admit there was just something that drew you to that damned window. Sure, he himself was alluring enough to draw you near, but maybe seeing him okay would calm the slight worry in your gut. 

The night's blue hue was barely broken by the warm light that made its way past the curtain you pushed aside, and made the warm light across from you just as noticeable. Lit only by lamplight, you could still make out those dark curls resting against a white pillow, and bare shoulders were so pale compared to the onyx blanket. He was just as still as the room around him, hopefully finding more peace with the rhythmic chirping of crickets outside your window than whatever yelling match had probably followed him through that door. Luckily he was turned away from you, but you didn't want to push that luck. You let the curtain fall back into its place. It wasn't your business anyway, and you shouldn't be looking in on your neighbor like this. Flicking the switch of your lamp, you finally crawled into your own bed. Somehow, the crickets outside seemed louder, this time to drown out any of the ruckus in your mind. Something with cocky words and silhouettes behind glass windows.  

[babybatscreationsv2]

Marked ch 1

Marvel | Starker

When Tony's soul marks first appeared he was afraid he wouldn't be good enough for his soulmate. When Peter's marks appeared he was afraid of what the blood and bruises meant. Now they're left dealing with consequences of a dangerous lifestyle and a lot of distrust.

As requested by the beautiful and brilliant Aech <3

Warnings and tags below

Warnings/tags: soulmates au, mafia au, violence, angst with a happy ending

The room smelled like moldy bed covers and stale coffee. Tony could have easily afforded something much nicer, but this motel was close to their target and inconspicuous. He'd stayed here before so he knew the staff wouldn't ask questions if he got blood on the floor. Again.

He let Rhodey have the bathroom first. Sitting on the end of the bed, he looked at the blood drying on his arms. He could taste it in his mouth, but that was probably just the smell of the blood splattered on his cheek doing it to him. Sometimes a man has to take matters into his own hands. He can't always send enforcers. People forget who he is. They forget why they respect and fear him.

"Another hard day's work," Rhodey sighed as he came out of the bathroom. He didn't find the pleasure in the brutality that Tony often did. Maybe he was addicted to adrenaline. Maybe he was just an asshole. Not Rhodey though, he was a good man and he hated this part.

"Thanks for tagging along, Rhodey."

"Yeah well. Someone's gotta watch your back." He leaned against the wall beside the bathroom.

Tony stood and crossed the thin carpet. "No one watches my back better than you, pal."

Rhodes rolled his eyes. Tony passed by and slipped through the door. The bathroom tile was stained green in patches where mold was taking over. He turned on the tap and let the cold water run over his hands. Red swirled down the drain, then pink, then finally clear. He bent down and scrubbed his face clean. Rhodey poked in through the door to hand him a towel.

"You think we could take a vacation soon? The husband is getting restless."

Tony dried his face with the towel and laughed. "Maybe if you let him off the chain every now and then." He looked up at his face in the mirror and frowned. The blood was gone but along the side of his nose was a dark gray mark as if he'd rubbed it with a dirty hand. He took the towel and tried to wipe it away, but it remained stubbornly in place. It was so... faded looking. Like day old engine grease or the barest dusting of gunpowder. It was as if it wasn't really there, but rather it was the ghost of a mark.

Tony stared at his reflection and a chill washed over his skin. He could hear Rhodey talking as if far away. The sound of his own heart pounding in his throat was far louder.

"What's that on your nose?" Rhodey interrupted his thoughts.

Tony blinked. He set the towel aside, unwilling to try again and confirm his suspicion. "What? Uh... gun powder?"

Rhodey raised both of his eyebrows. "So wipe it off." He folded his arms across his chest and leaned against the door frame.

"It's a fashion statement. I'm trying something."

"You're... trying something." To Tony's horror, a grin spread across his face. "You son of a bitch! You're finally becoming a man!"

"Fuck off," Tony grumbled. He turned back to the mirror. It was still there, that chalky black mark. What even was it? Charcoal? He rubbed at it with his hand and still his face was marked and his fingers came away clean.

Tony sighed. "Why now? I'm an old man."

Rhodey patted his shoulder. "Well, whoever they are, they aren't gonna care, Tones."

"You sure about that?"

"Yeah." He barked a laugh. "You're rich as fuck, man."

Tony laughed. "Fuck you." He stared at the mark on his face. A soul mark? On him? He'd gone fifty years without being marked. Why now? What did that mean?

----------

Peter rubbed the side of his nose as he stared at the paper in front of him. His back hurt from leaning over his desk and his legs were stiff and cramped. He yawned and glanced over at the clock. Three o'clock. If he were lucky he could still get four hours of sleep. He looked down at his hands. His right hand was almost entirely black from the charcoal while his left had fared only marginally better. Sure he owned a blending stump, but sometimes you just have to do things by hand. And maybe he'd also dropped it by accident and watched it roll underneath the bed several hours ago. Was blending charcoal with one's fingers a crime? He didn't think so. Not that it would have saved him much, he knew better than that.

As Peter examined the mess he'd made of himself, he noticed something strange. His skin was off in color and oddly textured. Was he allergic to charcoal? That would be just his luck.

He got up from the chair and groaned as his whole body protested. He limped more than walked to reach the bathroom. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the light after sitting under just his desk lamp all night. He turned on the sink and started to scrub his hands clean. When he first started college, May had gifted him a bottle of lemon soap she swore could remove any stain an artist could create. It wasn't perfect, but did get up the worst of the charcoal from his skin. His fingernails were a lost cause though.

Peter scrubbed his way up both of his arms all the way to his elbows, but as he rinsed they didn't come away clean. He wiped the water away with a towel to get a better look and found his arms spattered with pink. It splattered upward in places. In others it ran down. As if he'd punched his fist into a paint can. As if he'd... punched a person... and their blood...

Peter backed away from the sink and sat down on the edge of the tub. He traced the stains with his fingers trying to make sense of them. It wasn't blood it couldn't be. And it definitely wasn't a soul mark. Maybe it was just red paint... maybe his soul mate was an artist too. But how did they get paint all the way up their arms like that... and between their knuckles and... Peter stood and went back to the mirror. There on his face were pinkish splatters. As he watched another one formed just above his left eye. His stomach twisted in horror.

It was paint. It had to be paint.

Discovering your first soul mark was a joyful occasion. One to celebrate. So why did he feel so afraid?

It was just paint.

He quickly finished washing off what was real and left the bathroom. It was 3 am after all, he was probably seeing things. They don't call it the devil's hour for nothing. He tucked himself into bed, but it was a while before his heart slowed enough to allow him rest.