#but I think cute oil paintings placed around could be fun

[h0neyfreak]

One of the photographers we talked to asked if I was going to incorporate my own art/paintings into the wedding and it’s been stuck in my brain ever since. Like. Yeah. I guess I could do that it’d be cool. But idk how. My current thought is to paint the two signature cocktails we’re serving to use as menus at the bar. This is an official call for any ideas. I mostly oil paint and our wedding is small (like 40 people) so I can definitely fit it in somewhere I just don’t know what would be cool vs. awkward.

[young-dumb-and-vaccinated]

Cult Girl: Doctorate (Hannibal x Pregnant!Female!Reader) pt. 14

Hannibal reads too much into Max's attempt to reconcile and cult girl revisits her past.

@wisesandwichshark @pearlstiare

Trigger warnings: discussions of death, abandonment, military casualties, emotional abuse

You soon returned to the opera knowing you had nothing to hide. Hannibal selected for you an off-white maternity gown so form-fitting it was practically painted on. He wanted everyone to see that you, his queen, empress and goddess, were carrying his child.

It only took that evening for the whole dynamic to change. Suddenly, you were an expectant new mother. Imogen had been a massive hit, you were planning to go again.

You were affixing your heavy cubic zirconia earrings when you heard a knock at the door. You hesitated, but hurried down the stairs when you saw who it was.

"Max?" You said, upon opening the door. He stood there awkwardly, holding a bouquet of flowers. "Hi?"

"Hey, [F/N]." Max greeted, eyes darting nervously around the porch. "I just came around to apologize in person. I'm sorry I was such a chauvinist prick."

You leaned against the door. "Oh?"

"You were right." He continued. "I don't know what it's like to carry a baby, and, unless something goes very wrong, I never will."

"Let's hope it doesn't come to that." You smiled.

"Anyway, these are for you." He said, handing the bouquet over. "They're chrysanthemums."

"Thank you, Max." You said, accepting the flowers.

"Archie and I-" He scratched the back of his head. "We thought that, maybe, if you'd still have us, that we'd name the baby Chrysanthemum. With your permission, of course."

"Like the picture book?" Your face lit up. "With the little mouse girl?"

Max nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah, exactly."

You hugged the bouquet into your chest and considered it again. You looked back at Hannibal, who hadn't looked up from his expectant fathers' website for a second all day. He surrounded himself with books about child psychology, attachment theory, developmental behavior patterns and somehow found himself on a tangent about institutionalized misogyny in medicine.

"I'm sorry, Max." You said, sincerely. "I really do appreciate you coming down here and apologizing, but-"

Max put his hands up and gave you a disarming smile. "I understand. Plans change."

"I just really want to stress that it's not you." You assured him. "I've kind of... really grown to like the idea of being a parent. And I think that was Hannibal's plan all along, too."

"I believe a congratulations is in order, then." His voice turned up in delight. "I'm very happy for you. Both of you."

You clutched the bouquet to your chest. "Thank you."

"Well, I'd better get going." He stepped backwards down the stairs. "I've got three pints of Ben and Jerry's in the backseat and Archie'll have my head if I come home and they've melted."

"Max, wait." You stopped him before he could get down the driveway.

"Hm?"

You leaned against the threshold and smiled warmly. "Don't be a stranger, okay?"

Max returned the smile. "Of course not."

You waved goodbye and shut the door. You hurried to the kitchen to put the flowers in water before you had to go.

"Who was that, love?" Hannibal asked, half-heartedly. He was still very fixated on his research.

"Max Thomas-Park." You answered, unwrapping the flowers from the decorative plastic.

Hannibal looked up from his computer, but left the room silent for you to fill.

"He wanted to make amends." You explained. You walked across the room to the china cabinet and selected a vase big enough to hold the ornate bouquet. "Brought flowers and everything."

"Chrysanthemums?" He asked, sniffing the air.

"I see your sense of smell is coming back." You commented.

"Interesting selection." He narrowed his eyes on the bouquet.

"Well, he said that was what he wanted to name the kid." You offered. "It was a cute pitch, not gonna lie."

Hannibal shut his laptop and examined the bouquet up close. "If he wanted to express regret, he would have done better to bring you blue or purple hyacinths."

"Well, like I said." You made a point to project a little more. "He said he wanted to name his daughter chrysanthemum."

"Mums are given to show sympathy for those in mourning." Hannibal continued, clearly having his own conversation.

"Hannibal-"

"I think your cousin got her hooks in him and he's planning to--" He cut himself off, lest he speak the unthinkable into reality. "That's why he brought mourning flowers."

"Max Thomas-Park is conspiring with Anna to kill our unborn baby?" You said, flatly, to emphasize how insane he sounded.

Hannibal held a bloom between his fingers and looked closely at it. "It's the kind of hint I would leave. For courtesy's sake."

"I think looking at parenting blogs all day has made you a little paranoid." You observed, knowing full well that an overprotective husband and soon-to-be father of your child was not a bad problem to have. Nevertheless, you shut the laptop and touched his cheek. "Come on. We're going to be late for the opera."

You heaved yourself into the passenger's seat of the car, feeling the seat give beneath your heavy frame. Every time you got into the car, you remembered that you needed to shop for a car seat. The thought just as soon left your mind every time. 

“We need to look for a car seat.” You said as Hannibal shut the door, hoping that he’d remember. 

“I mean,” Hannibal blurted out, still lost in his own conversation. “Max is a cultured and well-educated man. He has to know the implications of his flowers.” 

You huffed, dreading to think that paranoid delusion was symptomatic of his parenting style. “Right. The twenty-seven year old data analyst who graduated with a finance MBA from UChicago is also proficient in the outdated and frivolous language of flowers.” 

“In Italy, mums are only given as comfort for loss.” Hannibal said with undeserved conviction. “Exclusively, [F/N].” 

You rolled your eyes and typed something up on your phone. You raised your eyebrows, feeling a bit proud of yourself for what you found. 

“In Korea, y’know, the country that Max’s family is from,” You corrected. “The chrysanthemum is a symbol of friendship.” 

Hannibal tensed up for a moment, tightening his grip on the steering wheel. It was as if he were trying to break himself out of a trance. “...I’m sorry, darling.” 

“I know you’re scared.” You stared at his profile, trying to make out an expression. “I’m also... pretty scared. But you can’t take it out on a guy who has nothing to do with it.” 

“I am scared.” He affirmed, but the way in which he did was a telltale sign that he wasn’t giving you the full story. 

“Of?” You raised your eyebrow. “Finish the sentence, Hannibal.” 

"I need to keep our baby safe." He answered. "And I cannot in good conscience let her come into the world knowing that someone wants to hurt her. To hurt you."

You sighed. "Hannibal, are you seriously still worried about Anna?"

"Don't underestimate the role privilege and entitlement plays in the decision to commit acts of violence." He enunciated carefully. "You of all people should know that."

"Anna has cultivated such a perfect victim image to project outwardly that even a hint of proactive violence would shatter it." You explained. "She's the poor girl who has things done to her. Her evil cousin ruined her marriage. Her evil cousin destroyed her career. And she's the innocent victim in all of it."

"Logically, I know that you can speak on her behavior with more authority than I." Hannibal admitted.

"No shit." You scoffed. "I had to live with her."

"Can we at least entertain the idea that she has something planned?" He pleaded.

"I'm surprised at you." You said. "You never really struck me as the overly-cautious type."

Hannibal shook his head. "With my own life, I'm willing to gamble. But not when it's you. And not when it's Imogen."

You tensed up. His admitted willingness to put himself in danger unlocked a core memory you had buried deep down. The only thing you knew about your own father was that he was willing to put himself in danger. To go overseas and die for fuck-all instead of live for the child he selfishly created then abandoned. He chose to give his life for oil. You didn't choose to grow up without a father and your mother didn't choose to raise a child without a partner. He made that choice for you.

"Now what are you not telling me?" Hannibal broke you out of your trance. "I know that look, [F/N]."

"Nothing." You shook your head. "You should really not plan on dying anytime soon."

"I promise you, I am not going anywhere." His voice softened. "Least of all, to Iraq."

"Okay, you're a pretty good therapist but you never told me you could read minds." You threw your hands up in defeat. "Are you a psychiatrist or are you Loki?"

"As fun as being the god of mischief would be," Hannibal smiled to himself. "I just happen to have a steel-trap memory and an admittedly quite obsessive fixation on the mental health of the mother of my child."

"I swear to god I never told you about him." You denied. "Not even in passing."

"You didn't have to." He assured you. "Beatrice did."

You were surprised for a fraction of a second until the information sat in your head long enough to realize it wasn’t surprising in the slightest. Beatrice took every opportunity she got to brag about her son's sacrifices. She never once mentioned the sacrifices he forced upon you. Only that her son was a hero.

"Did you get the 'don't believe anything [F/N] has to say about my son' speech?" Your voice flattened in complete non-surprise.

"It was a prepared speech?" Hannibal chuckled. "Pity. I thought I was special."

"She gave it to my first boyfriend." You rolled your eyes. "We were, like, fifteen."

"The root of your psychological issues becomes clearer every time we talk about Beatrice." He commented under his breath.

"I know." You conceded.

He pulled into the parking lot, turned the car off and placed his hand over yours.

"Your father was a coward." He said, bluntly. It was nice to hear what had been echoing in the back of your head out loud for once. "I know no country to serve. No god to glorify. I promise, you have the whole of me. My mind, body and soul belongs to you and our child."

You squeezed his hand. "I couldn't ask for anything else."

[helloalycia]

The Wrong Lifetime – Three // Wanda Maximoff

chapter two | story masterlist | main masterlist | wattpad | chapter four

author’s note: i have nothing to say except enjoy!

Chewing on my bottom lip, I looked over the shelves at the different kinds of stationary the shop had to offer. I needed a new notebook and some ink since I'd ran low at home, so I decided to come into town to have a look.

A brown leather-bound notebook caught my eye and I picked it up, flicking through the pages. Sadly, they were too thin for my liking, so I replaced it and kept looking.

Moments like this were one of the few luxuries I had to myself, where my mother wasn't nattering in my ear about finding a husband and learning to do something useful other than writing, or where my brother wasn't overshadowing me in everything he did, making me feel even worse about myself. No, moments like this, I could just be.

"Y/N? Is that you?"

And there goes my moment.

Plastering a smile on my lips, I spun around and was surprised to see Wanda approaching me with an equally surprised expression on her face. She really was everywhere, wasn't she?

"Wanda, hello," I greeted as she stopped by my side. "It's good to see you."

She looked good, considering I hadn't seen her for a few days. Maybe once when she'd popped in to say hello to everybody before her date with my brother, but that was hardly a meeting. Now, she looked cheery, eyes sparkling with their usual excitement.

"You, too," she said softly, a smile creeping on her lips. Her eyes fell to my hands, where I was holding some ink. "Don't you have servants to do that for you?"

"Don't you have servants to do that for you?" I countered lightheartedly, eyes flickering to the vast amount of paintbrushes and paint in her arms.

She narrowed her eyes in a playful manner. "Touché."

Rolling my eyes in good nature, I asked, "So, what made you decide to go shopping?"

"I needed some new supplies," she quipped with an adorable smile, lifting her arms which were filled with said supplies.

"And you didn't think a basket would help?" I joked, before turning to grab a stray basket beside the shelves and helping her to put everything in it.

She chuckled, accepting my help, and answered, "Truthfully, I only came for the paint, but then I saw some new brushes I wanted to try, and then there were some new colours in stock and, well, before I knew it–"

"This happened," I finished for her with amusement, handing her the filled basket.

She took the basket from my hands and nodded. "Exactly. I would have sent my servant to get the paint, but last time I did, she came back with the wrong one."

"Oh, the scandal," I teased.

Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment and it was refreshing to see the shoe on the other foot. I guess I could see the fun in it now – no wonder she teased me often. Plus, she looked cute when she was caught off guard.

"What about you?" she countered, attempting to take the attention off her.

Content smile on my lips, I watched her. "What about me?"

She gave me an isn't it obvious? look. "I told you why I was here. What about you?"

I shrugged, looking back to the shelves. "I just needed some things... and I may or may not get excited when buying stationary."

Her melodious laughter filled the air. "Of course."

"I just don't know which to get," I told her, motioning to the notebooks. "There's so many options!"

She hummed with amusement, stepping by my side closely and reaching out to get a better look. I was acutely aware of her shoulder pressed to mine and tried to stop thinking about it, but obviously, once I told myself to stop thinking about it, it was all I could think about.

"How about this one?" she suggested, picking up a notebook wrapped in a burgundy-coloured sleeve. She was probably biased since it was her favourite colour.

I took it from her grasp as she held it towards me, feeling tingles at the tips of my fingers when they grazed her hand. God, I needed to get a grip.

Before I could look at the notebook properly, I noticed a smudge on her hand, subconsciously grabbing it before she pulled away. Flipping it over so I could see her palm, I saw several smudges of colour and stared with confusion.

"Paint," she explained, mildly embarrassed as she pulled away. "The stuff goes everywhere."

I hid a smile, finding it cute, before looking to the notebook again.

"I like it, but now to see the pages," I said, flipping through them to see if they were thick enough. I hated getting a notebook with flimsy pages that ink seeped through.

"Are they to your liking, your majesty?" she teased, and I looked up to see her tilting her head and watching me through her eyelashes.

"Yes, they are actually," I retorted with a childish glare, before closing it. "Thanks."

She half-suppressed a laugh. "Good. Let's hope it gives you some... vdokhnoveniye."

She paused, scrunching her nose in thought, probably searching for the right word in English. I was too distracted by how enchanting she looked when she did that to care about her struggle to find the word.

"Vdokhnoveniye is like inspiration," she explained, eyes looking back to me after staring up in thought, "but it's something better. It's from the word vdykhat', meaning to breathe."

"So, you want me to get a good breath from this?" I asked, quirking a brow with bemusement.

"No! No." She laughed, running a hand through her curls. "It's like... when you get inspired by something so quickly, as quickly as it takes to take in a breath. Never mind, it's stupid."

"It's not," I reassured her with an appreciative look. "I get it. Thanks. I like that. Russian is definitely a fascinating language."

She seemed glad that I made sense of her ramblings and I smiled, realising there was much more to Wanda than her ability to make me a stumbling mess.

"Have you got everything?" I asked her, glancing to her basket, before quickly adding, "What am I saying? Of course you've got everything. Practically half the store is in there."

She shoved me gently. "Not nice. But yes, I have everything."

I refrained from chuckling at her dismay before leading the way to the till so we could pay. As we took turns, the cashier made conversation with both of us. I knew of him because I'd been here enough times to make a friend, but I was surprised to see Wanda was the same. I was certain I'd never seen her here before. And I'd been here a lot.

When we finished paying, we began to head outside and I decided to speak my thoughts.

"You know, it's strange to think that we've both been coming here for a while and yet we've never crossed paths," I noted. "I mean, unless we have and just didn't know who each other were then."

She shook her head casually. "Oh, no, we haven't crossed paths. I'd definitely remember a pretty face like yours."

I paused, bewildered at her words as they took time to sink in. She seemed to notice as she laughed, holding the door to the shop open for me. I walked outside and she followed after me, eyes glancing at me satisfactorily.

"So, er, what are you doing now?" I changed the subject, recovering from my momentary shock.

She settled with a smile as she answered, "I'm in the middle of adding some finishing touches to a painting I'm working on. I'll probably head back to finish it."

"Ah, the paintings that you talk about but I've never seen," I joked, relaxing under her stare. "I'm starting to believe you're lying to me, love."

She rolled her eyes, though her smile widened, revealing a dimple by the corner of her mouth. "I'm not... You can come with me if you'd like. I don't mind showing you." When her eyes met mine, she quickly added, "If you're not busy, that is."

Humour disappearing, I nodded with surprise. "Sure. I'd love to."

And that wasn't a lie. I was curious to see the Sokovian's work since she seemed to enjoy talking about art so much. Plus, I could appreciate some good art when I needed to and I wondered if hers would fit the bill.

Or at least that's what I told myself when she flashed her dazzling smile my way, making my heart explode with adoration.

—

Just like me, Wanda didn't have a dedicated place to work from because her parents didn't deem her passion an appropriate hobby for a young woman in today's day and age. So, just like I did, she worked in her room and made the most of the space she had.

As soon as we took a step inside, I was amazed by how much stuff there was. Of course there was the expected – a bed, an ottoman, a wardrobe and a desk – but it was as if that was all secondary furniture to the main focus.

Closest to the giant window on the opposite end of the room were several canvases being supported by easels, some painted and some blank. Papers with sketches of literally anything you can think of were taped to the walls, some scattered along the floor and some scrunched up entirely, missing the bin.

Her desk was filled with jars of paintbrushes, oils, pencils, chalk and any other art supply I'd probably never heard nor seen of before. The place was messy, but not dirty. Her bed was made, the sheets as crisp as could be, her books were lined up neatly, her paintbrushes all had a perfect spot. It was clean, but it was a giant mess, and it was the most beautiful mess I'd ever seen. I refused to believe art was merely a hobby for her when it seemed like her room was dedicated to it.

"This is your room?" I asked with disbelief, eyebrows raised.

Clearly mistaking my amazement for critique, she dumped her newly purchased art supplies on her bed before rushing to pick up some loose papers and canvases from the floor.

"Yes," she squeaked, attempting to kick some papers under her bed as she straightened up sheepishly. "Sorry for the mess. Believe it or not, it does follow a system."

I laughed wholeheartedly, heading further into the space to where her makeshift studio was. "Wanda, you don't need to apologise. This place is amazing."

She snickered, glancing around at everything. "You think? I'd love something more – a real studio – but of course, women aren't supposed to have hobbies apart from pleasing their husband and hosting dinners every other week."

The last part she said with a hint of bitterness, clearly repeating what she'd been told before, no doubt by her parents. I was surprised by her vulgarity, but I wasn't in disagreement. She was absolutely right and it was such a shame because women were so much more than their husband. Too bad society would never see that.

"My father only allows me this... sanctuary," she finished with a sigh, before her hand rested on her desk. "It's not much, but at least it's mine."

"Well, I love it," I told her honestly, making her smile as she looked my way. "Can I look around?"

She waved her hand. "Of course. Nothing's off limits,  but do be generous. My ego is easily bruised."

I chuckled at her joke and she flashed me another smile before grabbing her neglected art supplies. As I helped myself to looking around at her work, I heard her rustling around behind me and glanced her way, seeing her making herself comfortable on a stool before a particular canvas. I presumed it was the piece she was working on that she mentioned earlier and got back to my browsing.

She was extremely talented, not that I had any doubts to be honest. There were her bigger pieces, the extremely detailed ones, that she'd painted of grassy landscapes. Some were green full trees with falling leaves, some were cherry blossom trees with pink blossoms floating in the air, some were buildings overgrown with mother nature. I recognised none of them, but they transported me elsewhere like a nostalgic reminder of being a kid and playing in the garden with my mum. Even now, I helped her do the gardenening, but I'd never really appreciated my surroundings until I saw Wanda's work.

And those were just the huge pieces. She'd done sketches that were taped to the wall, to her desk, floating out of sketchbooks. Some were plans for bigger pieces, others were daily observations, all of her surroundings. She didn't draw people, I noticed, it was mainly scenery. But it was all stunning and it brought a smile to my lips as I imagined her producing all of this in her own little sanctuary, as she called it.

"You've been quiet for too long," she called out jokingly, after a while of me perusing her sketchbooks.

I looked up from my seat at her desk, seeing her focused on her painting, but an amused smile ghosted her lips. The sunlight from the window was hitting her perfectly at the moment, and even from where I was sat, I could see the flecks of gold shimmering in her eyes, matching the auburn streaks in her hair. The breath got knocked out of me momentarily, and I almost forgot that she'd said something.

Clearing my throat, I returned her smile. "I'm admiring your work, Wanda. You're bloody talented."

She lowered her paintbrush and gave me an incredulous look. "Tell me what you really think, Y/N."

I grinned, laughing slightly. "I am! I genuinely think this is amazing."

She pressed her lips together, still reluctant to believe me, but she nodded gratefully and returned her attention to her painting. I didn't fail to notice the pink spreading across her cheeks at the compliment, and my heart fluttered at the sight.

"Would you ever sell any of these?" I asked her, standing up and approaching her side to see what she was working on.

I noticed the addition of stray paint that had made its way to her hands and forearms and it made me smile. I don't even think she realised it was there.

She scrunched her nose up at the idea. "I've given some away to family friends because my parents made me. But no, I don't think I'd sell them." Something seemed to make her snort with amusement, then she said, "Nobody would buy them anyway."

I frowned as she sighed, her shoulders sagging at the thought. It was horrible to admit, but she was right. Female authors – questionable, but sure, they existed. Female painters? Let's just say that it was easier to be successful if you worked under a pseudonym and pretended to be a man. Which she clearly wouldn't do, or at least her parents wouldn't allow her to do. Sadly, Wanda Maximoff was in the wrong lifetime.

Hoping to cheer her up, I stood by her side and admired the strokes she made with her paintbrush. "If it's any consolation, if we were in another lifetime where I actually made money, I'd buy them."

She glanced at me, partially disbelieving my words, partially intrigued. "Seriously?"

I nodded with certainty, eyes flickering between hers and her painting. "Seriously. All of them. I'd buy every single one."

She looked away, swallowing hard, then a soft, barely noticeable smile appeared on her lips, and I was glad I'd said the right thing.

Focusing my attention on the painting again, I saw it was a stunning view of a stream, and the way she'd painted it made it seem like it was flowing off the canvas. Her last minute touches, adding white flecks of oil paint on the water, managed to bring the piece to life without any effort. I was amazed at how someone could make nothing turn into something so easily.

"Where is this?" I asked curiously, not recognising the scene, and also wondering where she'd gone for the inspiration since we lived in a busy town that didn't have water sources nearby.

She pointed to her head with the end of her paintbrush. "Up here."

"You made this up?" I asked, surprised for the millionth time since arriving.

"Uh-huh." She tilted her head to study the piece, whilst saying, "I usually paint what's in the garden. Sometimes what I see in town is good, too. But I really wanted to paint water, and apart from the constant rain we get, there is none. So, I made it up."

I was impressed at her ability to make up something like this, but also slightly confused. "Why don't you just visit Blackpool? There's a beach – water, sand, pier, everything. And it's not too far from here. You could make it a day trip."

She shrugged, distracting herself with dipping her brush on her palette. "I don't want to go by myself."

I probably should have recommended she visit with my brother. You know, the man she was engaged to? But my eagerness got the better of me, and I ended up saying, "Maybe we could go together. If you want."

She looked up, a slow smile forming on her lips. "I'd like that."

I mirrored her expression, nodding slightly. "Great. I'm sure we can arrange something. Promise."

She held my gaze for a second longer, saying, "I'll hold you to that, milaya," before looking back to her painting.

"What does that mean?" I asked suddenly, my mind clearly not controlling my words today. "You keep calling me it."

She chuckled, leaning forward to get a closer look at her work with her paintbrush. "Darling."

"Pardon?"

She shook her head, glancing at me with amusement. "No, Y/N. It means darling."

I swallowed awkwardly, certain my cheeks were as red as they felt warm. I wasn't sure what was more embarrassing – that I'd responded to her calling me darling when she hadn't, or that she'd been calling it me this whole time without me knowing. "Oh."

"Pull up a stool," she changed the subject, though my mind was still racing at her revelation. Had she called Y/B/N that? I couldn't recall. "I'll show you how to paint a little if you want."

Dazed, I did as she said whilst chewing on my lip with thought. She watched me, grinning from ear to ear, but said nothing. Was it normal for my heart to flip-flop in my chest like it was? I couldn't tell anymore. And when she grabbed my hand without saying anything, my hand felt like it was on fire with her touch.

The tip of her paintbrush swiped against my inner palm, her soft fingertips holding it up. Every area that her finger touched was burning, sending tingles up my arm and leaving me paralysed. Good thing I was sat down.

"There," she said like it was obvious. "Now you're an artist."

Blue eyes met mine excitedly and I gave her a small smile in return, hoping that these strange thoughts and reactions would disappear soon enough. Because this was definitely not appropriate.

—

My dreams were never anything worthwhile.

For someone who had a creative mind and could string sentences together to create a story I was proud of, my subconscious was the opposite. It was dry and boring and I rarely remembered my dreams unless they were scary enough to wake me up. But this time, this was a dream I was certain I'd never forget...

As with all dreams, I was unable to control what was happening. I was myself, observing from a first person point of view like it was real, but I had no control over my words or actions. Everything was predetermined, like a script I was forced to follow.

So, in this particular dream, I was sat in the back of a carriage, wearing a dress that was fancier than my usual taste. One hand was clutching my purse and the other was in someone else's hand, the person playing with my fingers soothingly.

"We're stopping now. Are you ready?"

It was Wanda. I had no idea why she was in my dream, or why she was leaning into my side comfortably, or why she was playing with my fingers like she did it all the time. I just knew that it shouldn't have been happening.

"Yeah, c'mon," I said with a smile, following my dream's script.

I intertwined our fingers and raised them to my lips, pressing a kiss to her palm. She smiled with adoration and allowed me to lead her out the carriage quickly. We were at the theatre and the first thing I thought was that my mind was creating a date similar to the one she shared with my brother. Oh, God, this wasn't good.

"Promise you've got the tickets?" she asked as we walked inside, hand in hand.

In my dream, nobody around us seemed to care that we were together, that we were two women showing affection and simply existing in a way more than friends. As wrong as I knew it was to dream of my soon-to-be sister-in-law like this, my mind was at peace, knowing I could be myself in my dream state. I didn't have to hide my identity and it was liberating.

"No, I decided to leave them at home," I answered her sarcastically, smiling.

She squeezed my hand and tugged me close, stopping me from walking any further. Her face scrunched together with a feigned annoyance.

"You don't need to be mean," she mumbled, eyes peering into mine, and my heart raced at the contact of her body pressed to mine.

Grinning, I pressed a kiss to her nose. "I've got them right here, love. Now let's go before we're late."

The dream didn't have a clear transformation. I just knew that one second I was staring at Wanda and the next I was sat beside her in the theatre, waiting for the lights to go down.

"Here," I said, passing her the programme for the show that was in my hand.

When I looked down at it, I was surprised to see a wedding ring on my left hand. Huh.

The lights dimmed when Wanda looked my way, green eyes bright in the dark. She shrugged, grabbing the programme and tossing it over her shoulder to the (thankfully) empty seat next to her.

"Looks like I missed my chance," she said, referring to the lack of light.

I opened my mouth to counter her words, but she didn't give me chance to as she pressed her lips to mine, hand raising to hold the back of my neck and pull me closer. Real me was freaking out, wondering why the hell I was allowing myself to have such thoughts about the girl who was going to marry my brother. And dream me was melting into her touch, shivering at her warmth and the way she began to suck my bottom lip.

"Wanda," I breathed out, pulling away breathlessly, but she continued to hold me close with a stifled grin.

"Isn't that why we got these tickets?" she said jokingly, eyes meeting mine.

My heart raced as she did, the simplest of glances making me weak in the knees. I was beginning to learn that her eyes were irresistibly beautiful.

"Right," I found my words, smiling in agreement as my eyes flickered to her lips.

They were painted red tonight, slightly smudged from the abrupt kiss she gave me, and I could only imagine the state of my own lips.

"We can watch the play now," she whispered, and I just about managed to tear my gaze from her lips to see the entertained look in her eyes.

I hummed in response, not trusting myself to say something comprehensible. Her lips curved into a smile and she linked our arms before settling into her seat, head leaning on my shoulder. I leaned mine on top, kissing the top of her head gently before also getting comfortable.

When I woke up, I didn't remember the rest of the dream, or know if there was a rest of the dream. I opened my eyes and found myself laying in my bed alone, tired and in the dark. It was still nighttime and my mind was foggy with fatigue. It took a moment for me to remember what I'd just dreamed. And then it hit me.

I liked my brother's fiancé.

[jimlingss]

Maybe Baby Retreat

➜ Words: 12.7k

➜ Genres: 50% Fluff, 50% Smut

➜ Summary: In an attempt to conceive, Taehyung discovers a five day retreat dedicated to help with the impregnation process but you're fairly certain that the entire thing is a scam.

[Day One]   Taehyung should be fucking you.   It’s a bit crass to be grumbling that he’s not sticking his sperm in you, but your fertile window begins today and if he really wants a kid as much as he says he does, you wouldn’t be on a godforsaken bus.    The yellow school bus jumps and jolts as it goes down the jagged, unpaved road. Every bump is felt in the back by ten folds as you’re rocked from side to side on the seat and not on your husband’s dick. Said man is too busy singing along with the guide that’s living it up with a mic in hand and his voice on the intercom. He’s trying to bring up the morale, but you’re not having it.   Instead, you turn to the window and stare out at the empty countryside that stretches across the horizon. There’s not a car in sight and if you swear to god if you’re being shipped to a serial killer’s farmhouse, you’re dragging Taehyung down to hell with you.   “You’re frowning, sweetheart,” he says while leaning over to you, flashing a blazing grin much to your chagrin. “You know stress isn’t good for the baby.”   “It’s not like it matters. There is no baby.”   “Not yet.” Taehyung throws an arm around your shoulder, pulling you into him as you scoff. You’re aware being a Debbie Downer isn’t going to help anyone but it’s hard to loosen up when you’re so on guard and skeptical about this whole thing. When you’re surrounded by noisy strangers who are all too overfamiliar.   You suppose it was your fault to begin with.   All those nights of staying up to read about tricks and tips of conceiving led Taehyung to discover the Baby Retreat. A five day sanctuary that ensures people will be able to conceive.    The moment you saw it, you were certain that the whole thing was a scam, but your sweet summer child husband was wholly convinced and no matter what you said, it wouldn’t change his mind.   “Who knows, it might actually work, right?! And if it doesn’t, then it looks fun anyway! When was the last time we had a vacation together?”   It’s also your fault for being so soft. You couldn’t shut Taehyung down when he was so enthusiastic, so here you are. You took off a week off work and on your fertile day, you’re shipped onto a school bus out into the middle of nowhere.   “Oh! Looks like we’re here, folks!” The vehicle slows as it turns into the gravel parking lot and the guide smiles as he peers out the windshield. “Welcome to the Baby Retreat! I hope you leave with a few buns in the oven! And if not, then don’t worry, you can still eat for two here!”   There’s a few snickers and once the bus parks, everyone gets up, slowly shuffling out and stretching their legs.   The air is sweltering hot and the sun beams down onto the back of your neck, making it uncomfortable to breathe. You’re panting with sweat built on your hairline as you drag your luggage through the grass. But no one seems bothered by it. Maybe because they’re excited that they’re here, they have the energy to fill the field with their chatter.    Even Taehyung is grinning and he’s a certified whiner when it comes to hot weather. The guy blasts the air conditioner during summer until it feels like it’s winter. Though you have an inkling it’s just a tactic so you can cuddle up to him for warmth before bed.   “Come on, slowpoke!” Taehyung breaks through your train of thought and then abandons you by running ahead like a hyperactive five year old.    “I’d be faster if you helped me!” Taehyung doesn’t hear you. You wonder if you married a child — but you suppose that’s why you called him the light of your life during your vows. Like Yoongi once said at the dinner reception, Taehyung’s excessive energy is indeed a double-edged sword.   You follow the stream of people to the center building, a modern wooden structure in the middle of the fifteen yurts that form a circle. It surprisingly looks alike to the advertisements, each with a porch and steps up to the door. The grass is verdant and pliant beneath your feet, the numerous trimmed trees around providing some nice shade and the flower beds give bright splashes of colour to the place. If this retreat wasn’t oddly centered around impregnation, you would’ve been convinced that it was a fancy camping resort.   “Welcome everyone! Welcome to the Baby Retreat! I hope the trip here wasn’t too bad!”   You finally join Taehyung’s side and look towards the stage in front of the main building. There’s a man with a half-moon smile and chubby cheeks in a loose tunic and taupe pants. He stands next to a woman in a baggy poncho holding a ukulele for reasons beyond you.   “I see some familiar faces here! To all those already familiar with the Baby Retreat, welcome home. I’ll try to keep this short and simple, so you’re not too bored.” He claps his hands together with a bright smile. You look around at the crowd to see elated expressions. “My name is Park Jimin and this is my girlfriend, Song Hyunjin. A little about us, we’ve been together for over ten years and yes, we have an open relationship with each other, but that does not mean we aren’t in love with each other.”   He draws her in, nuzzling into her without shame and she giggles. “To our new faces, trust me, you’ll find out soon enough.”   Jimin pulls away with an enormous grin. “We haven’t had any children ourselves, but don’t worry. We’re reproductive endocrinologists with proper training and medical degrees. But we started this retreat four years ago to take a more unconventional approach to reproduction. And for the next five days, we have the honour of hopefully helping you ladies conceive and you males impregnate your partner!”   There’s some exchanged smiles and Taehyung looks at you with hopeful eyes. It feels better to hear these people aren’t uneducated and talking out of their ass, but you’re still unsure how to feel.   Hyunjin laughs. “Not only that, our goal is to help you relax and truly deepen your relationship with your partner. While we can’t promise a hundred percent success rate, hopefully you’ll leave this place feeling more refreshed than you did before. With that being said, please feel free to come up and ask us any questions. We’re very open people who are more than happy to help you in your process of expanding your wonderful families. There is nothing more beautiful than pregnancy and birth.”   She jumps off the stage and grabs a wooden crate. With a smile, she begins passing out packs.   Jimin continues, “For the next five days, we’ll be helping everyone improve their diets and exercise habits while getting plenty of vitamin D. What my lovely Hyunjin is handing out now are your survival kits!”    “For men, fenugreek supplements are given to improve your sperm counts and for the ladies, there are prenatal vitamins and folic acid. There’s also a guide to the activities provided around here and a map, some sunscreen and other knick-knacks to remember your time here. Don’t worry, we won’t bombard you with any pregnancy pamphlets or information. I’m sure you’re tired of hearing about that.”   It’s a bit refreshing to hear. You’ve been neck deep in research about conception that it’s been hard lately — another reason that you agreed to Taehyung’s whims.   “Are you the Kim family?” Hyunjin asks and when you confirm it, she hands both you and Taehyung cute pouches. You reluctantly take it, but when you thank her, she happily smiles. “Welcome to the Baby Retreat.”   The introduction drags on for a bit more before Hyunjin admits that it’s hot and that everyone’s probably tired, so the meeting ends and you open your pouch and find information on your yurt.   “Not too bad, right?”    Taehyung can tell by the look on your face as you gaze up at your white-tented yurt.   “We’ll see,” you mumble and he takes the luggage, following behind you. “I thought we were going to spend five days in an orange tent, so I guess this is better by default.”   “An orange tent?” He laughs. “But I showed you the commercial! Did you not pay attention?”   “People lie on advertisements all the time, Tae.”   But to your surprise, the interior of the yurt is even better than expected. It looks like a cozy cabin, wooden panel walls that separate the full kitchen from the full bathroom and provides some privacy to where the queen sized bed is. Light comes in from the top, filling the space with luminescence. There’s a mini-fridge filled with goods, plush towels set on the table with a personalized welcome card, down duvets that are soft to the touch.    And it’s wrecked the moment Taehyung jumps on the bed with his arms and legs wide open like a starfish. He rolls over and props his head up with his hand — in the position where he often asks you in a breathy voice to paint him like one of your french girls. And he uses the same voice on you now while wiggling his brows, “Wanna ruin the sheets with me?”   You burst out laughing, but it sounds all too tempting. He could probably dump a load in you within five minutes, though you’re not sure if anyone could hear you from the outside. “Didn’t they say there’s planned activities in an hour? What if we don’t show up.”   “It’s fine. People come here for one reason anyway.” There’s a pause. “To fuck.”   You roll your eyes, setting your suitcase next to the bed and you look at the nightstand to notice mineral oil lubricants. You’re mildly impressed at the details. “Thanks, Captain Obvious.”   “They won’t miss us.” Taehyung’s own attention is taken to a wooden basket on a shelf of the irregular shaped bookshelf and he comes over, only to grin when he sees what’s inside. “Honey. I think we should have some fun tonight.”   You turn around, wondering what he’s up to now. But any snarky remarks die on your tongue when you find a leather whip in his left hand and a ten inch, neon pink dildo in his other hand.   “Is that...even sanitary?!”    You can’t imagine how many people have used it.   “We can find out.” Taehyung fiddles around with it, pushes a button and the dildo begins to rotate, making the both of you laugh. “Honey, we gotta give them five stars on Yelp! They have a communal sex toy bin for us to use! We can’t get this anywhere else.”   “Oh god. I’d rather not share my sex toys with anyone.” The two of you are interrupted by muffled folk music that begins to leak inside and it persuades you to go out. “C’mon, we should go check out what they have. If we have to spend five days here, we might as well meet some other people too and be social or whatever.”   Taehyung grins, tossing the dildo back into the basket and joining your side. “You’re liking this place, aren’t you?”   “No. I just think the yurt’s half-decent.”   Taehyung can see right through you, but it’s a bit too early for the ‘told you so’ spiel so he holds back and the both of you step outside of the yurt. There’s a few people hanging around and the weather is more bearable as the sun slowly begins moving and setting over the horizon. You meet friendly newlyweds who are surprisingly having their honeymoon here.   “We just can’t wait to have kids,” Rose, the young twenty three year old, says as she embraces her husband, Hoseok. They’re no strangers to publish displays of affection, openly kissing up on each other. It would make you a bit uncomfortable if not for how touchy Taehyung is as well.   When you first got together all those years ago, your friends teased you about it but it’s been years since. No one’s a stranger to how you plop yourself down on Taehyung’s lap or how he might kiss you and then steal your food right off of your own plate.   “When we saw that the retreat offered a honeymoon package, we just couldn’t resist,” Hoseok says, but you’re not sure if he’s talking to you and Taehyung or his wife with how much he gazes at her. It’s a sweet sight though. You remember that honeymoon period.   “Remember when we were that young?” you ask as you leave to the other side, giving the couple some much needed privacy. It was obvious they weren’t up for more conversation with the way they’re shifting and staring at one another.   “When you were still hot? Yeah. I do—” Taehyung bursts out laughing when you jab him. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding! You’re still hot, okay? The hottest chick here and you’d make the hottest MILF too.”   “Damn straight.”   The pair of you also run into another couple that’s older and appears a lot more comfortable with the place. “Oh, this is actually our second time here! The first time gave us the four year old troublemaker running amok back at home.”   You blink in surprise, suddenly more interested in the conversation. “This place...worked for you?”   “It sure did.” The woman, Dahyun, smiles. “Some people didn’t have as much luck as we did, but we had so much fun last time that we knew we just had to come back. We were actually staying in your yurt last time.”   She points and you swivel your head over, intrigued. “Huh.” Taehyung raises a brow, noticing how engaged you are and the corner of his mouth tugs.   Her husband, Seokjin, chuckles heartily. “We thought it was time to give our son a younger brother, so here we are! Tonight’s the welcome party and just a word of advice, I really recommend getting some of that grilled salmon. It’s absolutely delicious.”   “Just let them eat whatever they want, Jin,” his wife sighs in exasperation.   “I’m just saying! I would’ve liked to know last time — I would’ve gotten two plates before they ran out.”   “This is why the doctor told you to eat less of everything. You ate more than I did when I was pregnant with Youngjae.”   “I can’t help that I’m eating for three! For your information, I’m carrying the entire family on these broad, broad shoulders of mine. Soon, I’ll have to start eating for four.”   Dahyun turns to you and Taehyung who are amused at their bickering. “I’m sorry. Please ignore him.”   It’s not a bad place, at least not so far. You weren’t sure what you were anticipating, but on the entire way here, you were worried that it was a scam your poor husband fell for. Luckily though, it seemed like the accommodation is good and the people around are friendly and welcoming, coming from different kinds of backgrounds and walks of life. It makes you feel better about not having internet connection or being murdered in the middle of the night.   The welcoming party turns out to be fairly nice too, and like Seokjin said, the food is delicious.   It’s a buffet style with tables set out, full of what Jimin declares is antioxidant-rich foods. He and Hyunjin go on a tangent about the benefits, how soy and estrogen foods have been limited, how there’s an emphasis on fruits, vegetables, carbohydrates, proteins and folic acid, and you’re sorely impressed at the attention to detail they provide.   “Oh my god. The salmon is amazing and have you tried these beans, Tae?!”   Taehyung laughs as he watches you eat, eyes lifted to look at you across the rounded table. “I thought you hated beans.”   “I do. But try it.” You lift your fork and he happily leans over, taking a bite. He swallows it down and smiles at how you stuff your cheeks.   After dinner, the pair of you gather with the rest to watch a few performances held on the main stage. Jimin introduces other staff members who sing, dance and Hyunjin even does a number with her ukulele, belting out some indie songs while standing bare feet.   It’s bizarre and a bit surreal to be sitting back in a lawn chair and watching some chick with flowers in her hair jump around and try to entertain you, but it’s not completely unwelcome. If anything, you were sort of having fun. The sun had set, making the weather milder. The breeze was warm against your cheeks and the fairy lights strung above were twinkling.   The whole atmosphere lulled you and with your head leaning on Taehyung’s shoulder, every blink became heavier and heavier. “This is nice,” you mutter and he catches it.   Your husband turns his head with a tiny smile. “Yeah?”   “Mhmh...”    You feel a wet kiss being planted at the top of your head and you decide to indulge, closing your eyes for just a moment. But the next time they open, you realize that the crowd has thinned, they’ve put on music on the stereo and Taehyung’s windbreaker is draped on top of you as a makeshift blanket.   “Hey there, sleepy head.” He grins at you when he notices your lashes fluttering. “Want me to carry you back to the yurt?”   “I’m fine.” It takes a second to get up and you stretch your arms out before the both of you make your way back to the yurt. There were a few younger couples lingering around and still taking in the scenery, but the years were catching up to you quickly and all you wanted was to dive into the sheets and satiate the rest of your sleepiness. “How long was I out for?”   “About half an hour?”   Taehyung fishes for the key and opens the door. “I didn’t even realize I was so tired.” You manage to kick off your shoes and beeline to the bathroom to brush your teeth.   “Of course, you were tired. You didn’t even sleep on the bus and for the past few days you’ve been up late doing research.”   You mumble incoherently, not having enough energy to argue with Taehyung and he grins, nudging you aside so he can grab his own toothbrush.    In the next ten minutes, it’s lights out. You’re rolled onto the bed, tucked into the warm sheets like a burrito, and Taehyung’s settled in as well. You hear his exhale and you allow your muscles to relax in the comfortable darkness. The exhaustion that’s been built from the entire day washes over you. But before you can drift off, in the quietness of the room, you remember.   And you reach out, arm stretched, feeling for your husband.   Taehyung hums when you tap his shoulder. You feel him shift and mumble, “What’s wrong?”   “I’m fertile,” you mutter with your eyes closed. “You need to stick your dick in me.”   He bursts out laughing and his arm slings over your abdomen. “It’s okay if we don’t have sex tonight, you know.”   You sigh, too fatigued to get up and do the job yourself. “We’re gonna miss our opportunity, Tae.”   A soft kiss is pressed to your temple, and you feel yourself losing the fight to keep your consciousness. “We’ll have other chances. Relax.”   “Relaxing….isn't gonna give us a baby.”   “No, but it will keep my current baby sane.”   After being together for so many years, Taehyung knows how to make his words sound sweet and enticing. And before you can even damn him for always catering to you and babying you, you’ve fallen asleep in his arms.

[Day Two]   Breakfast is as incredible as dinner was. There’s a full fruit platter that’s apparently all organic and a number of carbohydrates to fill yourself all the way to lunch. But you begin to regret eating so much with the scheduled activity that follows.   “Couples yoga is a way to build intimacy and trust with your partner.” Hyunjin and Jimin smile brilliantly and you wonder if they’re happy go lucky all the time. It must be fucking exhausting.   “Taehyung.” You nudge the man beside you who’s intently listening and he turns his head. “You know I’m not flexible at all.”   “Don’t worry.” He flashes a blazing grin. It’s way too early for this. “This is just for fun and I’ll catch you if anything.”   “No. Last time I tried doing yoga, I pulled a muscle in my thigh—”   “Oh look. They’re doing the first pose!” Your husband excitedly lugs you down and you’re forced to comply, crossing your legs and facing him.    It’s simple at first. There are basic poses with him leaning against you. Although it is hard to find a good balance considering how tall Taehyung is and even for being lanky, he’s quite a bit stronger than you are. But when Hyunjin and Jimin begin to twist themselves around and Jimin holds her up by the feet with a single hand, you know it’s impossible.   Unlike Taehyung, you never did cheerleading or any acrobatics.   “You’re going to drop me or I’m going to snap your spine, Tae!”   “Don’t you trust me?”   You look at your half-monkey, half-clown of a husband. “Do you really want to know the truth?”   The both of you collapse into a heaping mess before he can confirm or deny. He laughs and starts tickling you for not being able to listen until you’re begging him to stop before you look more like an idiot than you already do.   There’s a few couples who do a good job and you giggle when Taehyung mutters passive aggressive comments on how they’re teacher’s pets or that their form is awful. But there’s the fair share of other pairs who do as bad as you, namely Seokjin and Dahyun, the old couple from last night, bickering at being unable to do any poses.   You can’t say that couple’s yoga is particularly relaxing, but it’s silly and you find yourself having fun.   Hyunjin leads the cool down exercise and Taehyung nearly whacks you in the head with how he stretches. Your glare gains his exaggerated pout then cheesy smile. “Now as the very last cool down exercise, we’re going to take our partners by the hand.”   You mimic her and clasp Taehyung’s hands, awaiting further instructions.    “And we’re going to gaze into their eyes.” What? “Focus into the colour of their irises, how brown or blue or green they might be, or even the pattern of them. Sometimes we don’t truly look at one another like we should.”   “What are they even saying?” you mutter and the corner of Taehyung’s mouth twitches. In spite of how bizarre it is, you follow and stare into Taehyung’s rounded eyes. They’re brown. Like they’ve always been.   But you must admit, when the morning sunlight catches his irises at particular angles, the colour is a lighter shade than usual. They’re quite bright too.   “They say if we gaze into the eyes of someone we love, our heartbeat synchronizes together.”   What? Your brows furrow skeptically and you’re about to turn away, but suddenly Taehyung grabs a hold of your chin. “Don’t look away,” he commands with an authoritative voice and you swallow hard.   “Okay.” You focus your eyes to enlarge and focus. “I’m looking.”   You wonder if this is a staring contest, but even with his wolfish smile and being married for so long, Taehyung’s intent stare starts to make you feel vulnerable. You wonder if he’s always looked at you so affectionately. More importantly, you realize that even with all his dumb antics — like deciding to paint the fence green and then stopping halfway or ripping out the cabinets in the kitchen and never replacing them like he intended — you still love this sweet and kind dummy.   “Alright. Everyone can relax now,” Jimin announces softly as he claps and you finally blink a few times, eyes stinging from how you forced them open. “That’s the end of this session. Thank you for joining everyone.”   Yet, Taehyung holds your gaze a moment longer. And before you can pipe up and tell him it’s over, the man leans in and presses a soft kiss to your lips. He smiles when he pulls away. “As much as sweat is a good look on you, I think it’s time to shower, Mrs. Kim.”   You scoff and he holds your hand with an enormous grin, dragging you back to the yurt.   The two of you hop into the shower together, a habit that Taehyung insists is to save water for the good of the environment, but you swear half the time, you end up wasting more than if either of you do it separately. You’re sure that right now is one of those times.   “Hey.” You turn around as he’s lathering up his shampoo.   “Hey, yourself.” He smiles and shifts towards the stream of water before screaming at how hot it is. Taehyung quickly adjusts it, dissipating the fog on the glass. “Why do you like bathing in molten lava, woman?”   “You always make it too cold.” You scoff, but don’t dwell on the argument as you lean into his backside. “Listen, should we get a quickie in?”   Taehyung frees himself of the soap and looks at you. “If we do, we’ll miss lunch and then the hike.”   “We’re going on a hike?!”   “Yep, so hurry up cause if we don’t get lunch, we’re not gonna make it!” He gets out of the shower, leaving you to be bludgeoned by the ice, cold water. You sigh in exasperation.   The purpose of coming here is to conceive, not go on a hike. But with how enthused he is, you begrudgingly join.   Afternoons are the worst out here. The sun is sweltering and there isn’t an ounce of a breeze or a wind. As a result, the heat stifles and lingers without dissipating, causing sweat to dampen your clothing and stick to the back of your neck. The weather exhausts you and you feel your creamy lunch pasta up your throat again as you lug your legs up the steep, rocky incline.    No matter how much you try to keep up, you fall behind from the group.   Taehyung twirls around with a big grin, mouth perfectly symmetrically. “Are you okay?”   “W-What does it look like?” you pant. It’s unfair that Taehyung works out once a year and treats his body like a candy trashcan but is still more fit than you are.    “I can carry you if you want.”   “You’re going to snap in half carrying me.” You pass him as he laughs.    You hear him catch up, feet skipping along like he’s playing hopscotch. Then suddenly, you feel yourself being lifted off the ground and you shriek, arms looping around Taehyung’s neck. You’re scooped up in his arms like he’s about to kick down the door into the bedroom, but instead, he starts sprinting up the path like a maniac.   “Taehyung!” you squeal and he laughs again.   “Isn’t this better?”   “Aren’t you tired?”   “If I say yes, you’re gonna think I’m trying to tell you to lose weight, but for the record, I like how soft you are.”   You roll your eyes, embarrassed as you pass a few couples, but none of them seem to find it bizarre and they even smile warmly at you and Taehyung. Yet, he starts to slow down tremendously after a few minutes, panting and sweating profusely. You ask him if he’s going to put you down yet, but you underestimate just how stubborn your dear husband is. Taehyung refuses until you’re up at the top of the trail, making it to where Jimin and Hyunjin are by the waterfall.    There, you’re finally on set on your feet again.   You pass him your water bottle. “Drink it before I’m the one dragging you down.”   He grins and downs it.   Up here, it’s much more refreshing and easier to breathe. There’s a tiny waterfall coming from the higher mountains and there are trees around to provide shade. When you squint, you can see the campsite at a distance with all the yurts.   “We should take some pictures!” Taehyung declares when he steadies his breath and pulls out his selfie stick from the hideous fanny pack that you still won’t admit is pretty convenient.   “Your mom is gonna want a copy so don’t pull any ugly faces, Tae.”   “My face is never ugly.” He tugs you beside him and snaps a few shots before reviewing them carefully. Taehyung always had an eye for these kinds of things. “We didn’t get a good angle of the water.”   “I can take it for you.”   “What’s the point if we’re not together?” His thick brows are furrowed, lips lopsided, sighing.   A matronly and friendly voice pipes up next to you, “Do you need any help?”   Dahyun is smiling with Seokjin beside her and Taehyung appears relieved. “Yes, please.”   She takes his phone as he folds back his selfie stick and she stands off to the side, capturing you and Taehyung smiling with his arm around you. “One. Two. Three. I’ll take another one.”   Dahyun changes the angle a bit and Taehyung leans over to pull on your cheek while you feign a glare at him. The second picture is taken while the woman and her husband laugh, endeared. “There we go. You can check them to see if they’re good.”   The phone is handed back and by Taehyung’s expression, it seems acceptable. “You two are too cute. When did you get married?”   “Oh, I think three years ago? Yeah. Three.”    It’s much longer than it actually feels. It seemed like it was a week ago when you first met in class and thought he was annoying. Like yesterday, he was supposed to propose at a fancy restaurant but failed when you found the ring box the night before — how he screamed at you to stop, but it was too late and he ended up going with it. They’ve all become memories that you cherish.   “We met back in school and dated a while before getting married.”   Dahyun smiles. “Have you decided how many kids you want yet?”   You hitch a thumb to Taehyung. “He wants four, but I’m fine with two.”   “The bigger the family, the better, right?” he says, looking up from the screen of his phone.   “Wait until you have kids, you’ll end up wanting more,” Seokjin chuckles, “That or you’ll want to give them all away, but personally, I could raise a whole football team if she’d let me.”   His wife jabs him in the ribs. “Yeah, because you’re not the one who has to give birth to them.”   “And that’s why you’re the boss of the house.” He pouts at her while the corners of his mouth tickle up into a smile, and she relents.   “Let’s be honest, the real boss of the house is our little troublemaker. I swear he took after all your bad traits.”   Seokjin gasps. “Excuse me, Youngjae is my most masterful creation...even if he painted all over our leather seats and popped our car tire with his batman toy.”   She shakes her head with a light sigh, but it’s hard to hide her beaming expression. “I should’ve known he would give me trouble when he went past the due date for two weeks.”   “T-two weeks?” you sputter.   Dahyun nods, finally having the sympathy she was trying to fish out of her husband. “My stomach was as big as a watermelon and I was in labour for fourteen hours before I ended up getting an emergency c-section and he came out a whopping ten pounds.”   Your head is swirling as you try to imagine a ten pound baby in this petite woman.   It almost seems like a horror story that’s waiting to be picked up by Hollywood.   “But honestly, the hardest part wasn’t the whole pregnancy or birthing process. It was afterwards.” Her exhale is long and fatigued. “Suddenly there’s another human being you’re responsible for and you have to take care of them while you’re still in recovery. I remember when Youngjae couldn’t stop crying in the middle of the night. I always had an idea that having kids was a lot of work, but you really don’t have time for yourself once they’re born, and not to mention my bladder was completely done for after the whole thing.”   “Alright, alright.” Her husband pulls her close. “I already know you’re a woman warrior. I saw it with my own eyes.”   Dahyun smiles but it doesn’t reach her eyes and she turns to him, deadpanning, “No, you didn’t. You passed out half-way.”   “I was there in spirit,” Seokjin insists humorously.   Dahyun scoffs while Taehyung grins at their back and forth that’s reminiscent of his own dynamic with you. “But were they worth it?”   “Oh, a thousand percent,” Dahyun responds without needing a second to consider, expression softening. “Enough that I would want to do it all over again.”   She doesn’t get a chance to say much else when Jimin’s voice pierces through the chatter and everyone gathers together with the last stragglers who have finally made it up. “Thank you, everyone, for coming all the way up here. This is Serenity Falls that was actually…”   But his voice drowns out.   You linger on what Dahyun said, about child rearing and birthing, and there’s nothing that can be done to the uneasy emotion swelling inside of you.   The walk back down is silent. Done without a single complaint from you about the hot weather or how your feet ache. Taehyung notices, glancing at you several times. He doesn’t say anything until you’re back at the yurt.    “What’s wrong?”   You look at him from across the room. “Nothing, why?”   “You’ve just been quiet.”   “I just….” You inhale and decide to divulge him. “I was just thinking about what Dahyun and Seokjin were saying. Do you think we’re cut out for this, Taehyung?”   His head quirks to one side. “Why wouldn’t we be?”   “You and I can barely take care of ourselves.”   “That’s not true.”   “We forget to buy food all the time.”   “That makes midnight snack runs fun.” He grins.   You exhale an unsteady breath and Taehyung approaches you. He doesn’t mind how sweaty you are and wraps his arms around your waist. “We’ll figure it out. You said it yourself, right? One step at a time.”   “But what if it’s too much and you decide you don’t want to do it anymore? Or that...you don’t want to be with me?” He opens his mouth, but you keep going before he can jump in. It’s not just about you being self-conscious or needing reassurance. You’re simply trying to imagine the worst case scenario as realistically as you can. “Like when I’m still bloated like a whale and in a bad mood and the baby’s crying and no one knows what to do.”   “I’ll still love you no matter the changes,” Taehyung murmurs earnestly, searching your expression. “Even if you’re bloated like a whale and in a bad mood and the baby’s crying and no one knows what to do. I’ll use google to figure it out and get the baby to calm down and I’ll get you some chocolate and I’ll rub your feet.”   You scoff lightly. “You make it sound so easy.”   “Maybe because it won’t be as hard as you think. I’m great with kids and we got killer teamwork, you know, plus this baby’ll be the best project we’ve ever done together.”   “A project that’s gonna last us eighteen years.” You smile.   Taehyung laughs, the sound mellifluous in the room. “Which isn’t that long considering how fast time moves.”   You hum and encircle your arms around his neck. Taehyung gets the hint and leans in to seal your lips against his, slotting them together to kiss you the way he knows you like it.   It’s slow, comforting, an opportunity to revel in the softness of his lips. Taehyung gives you courage — he always has and when you break apart, smiling against each other, you feel worlds better than before. “I’m gonna start a bubble bath. You can join me if you want.”   It’s less of a suggestion and more of a demand, one Taehyung fully recognizes and makes him smile in amusement as you saunter away. Taking advantage of the tub in the bathroom, you lower the stopper of the drain and dump in the soap they offer. The water gets filled three quarters way with a layer of bubbles and you strip. You sigh as you get comfortable in the tub.   “Is it warm?”   Your husband leans against the doorway, arms crossed and the corner of his mouth curled.   “Uh-huh.” You loll your head on the edge of the tub and lift up your foot, watching the way the water cascades off your skin. “Are you not going to get in?”   “Maybe later,” Taehyung surprisingly replies. He rarely rejects any chance at jumping your bones when you’re being this forward about it. There’s no hike or lunch to catch that’s preventing him from having fun with you either. But as your husband walks out, you catch him unceremoniously stealing the clothes you have prepared and the stack of towels by the sink.   “What are you doing?”   “There’s no point in covering yourself up if I’m gonna strip you anyway.” He flashes a mischievous grin and you sigh, relenting in his antics. You simply lay back to enjoy the water, muscles relaxing and your brain that’s constantly in overdrive empties.   After ten minutes, your skin begins to wrinkle, so you drain the water and get out. But the moment you stand up, the cool air conditioning slams into you and your body starts to shiver.   “Taehyung!” you shout and hear silence. “At least give me a towel!”   Fortunately for you, there’s a smaller one on the rack he missed so you swipe at it and wrap your shoulders to protect yourself. But you’re still dripping wet and in need of your clothes, so you stomp out to find your ridiculous partner who’s apparently five years old and—   “HA!” Said man you’re searching for bursts out of the closet and you scream, startled half to death, nearly falling to the ground. Taehyung starts to laugh like a maniac.   “Are you serious?!” You gawk at him. “How long did you even wait there for?”   “Like five minutes ago.” The bastard wolfishly grins. “Worth it though.”   You cock a brow at him, sighing. “So that’s why you didn’t join me in the bath?”   “No. I didn’t join you, so I could do this.” He yanks the towel where your breasts meet, leaving you nude. Goosebumps rise all over your skin and your nipples harden in the frigid air.   You screech, arms trying to cover yourself. “Taehyung, it’s cold!” “I can warm you up,” he says but then runs away when he reads the glare on your face, giggling boyishly. It’s completely childish. If anyone was watching, you’d be mortified, but it’s been a long time since there was any shame in your marriage, so you stomp after him while nude.    You hunt the man down while he tries to evade by rounding the coffee table. It’s no longer about grabbing clothes or covering yourself up, it’s time for revenge.   Luckily, the yurt isn’t big enough to have a game of tag. You manage to reach him and you steal the opportunity to yank his pants down. Taehyung, mid-laugh, trips on his feet and stumbles on the carpet. You burst out giggles, looking at his ass in the air and he giggles too from the infectious sound bubbling up your throat.   “Oh, you’re gonna get it now,” He mutters in a low voice with half-lidded eyes and you scramble away with another shriek.   “You started it!” You jump onto the bed and Taehyung kicks off his pants. You don’t ask why he’s skipped out on wearing boxers, but you notice he’s already half-hard and that only makes you laugh louder.   He chases after you as you duck and steal his own tactic of rounding the coffee table. But unfortunately for you, Taehyung has always been destined to win with his longer legs. He catches you within two strides and snatches you as you scream. You’re thrown over his shoulder like you’re a sack of potatoes and he smirks. “Caught you.”   “Taehyung! People are gonna hear!” You laugh in spite of being the one who’s making most of the noise and he tosses you onto the bed. Usually, you hate to be manhandled, but your husband’s the only exception to the rule.   “Let them hear.”   He hovers over you and the laughter dies down. Taehyung stares earnestly into your eyes and your breathing becomes shallow. But you don’t like to lose and as his wife of three years, you know his one, true weakness.    Your fingers lift to Taehyung’s armpits and he seizes when you start tickling him. You laugh when he does and once he doubles over, there’s an opening to the left, a perfect escape route. You steal the opportunity while you still have it and start to climb off the bed, but he regains his breath and grabs your ankle, tugging you back to him in one swift motion without even needing to try.    Taehyung grins. “God, you’re such a brat sometimes.”    “Yeah, and I know you like it.”   He grabs your wrists before you can make another tickle attack and pins it above your head. You can tell that there’s no more time for jokes or any more playing around, not when you can feel his hard cock against your stomach.   “You smell good,” he sighs into your neck, inhaling deeply. “Cherry blossom? Peony?”   “Strawberries,” you answer. “You smell like sweat.”   “You’re gonna end up like me anyway.” Taehyung smiles and leans in to kiss you. It isn’t shy or chaste. His tongue licks into your mouth and you exhale, a strangled moan muffled against his lips as you melt against him. He finally has you where he wants and you let him take control.   The pair of you swap spit for a few minutes until he releases your hands, allowing you to curl your fingers into his shoulders as he caresses your waist.    Taehyung eventually breaks away with a playful glint in his eyes. “You wanna try the toys?”   You both look at the basket half across the room and he rolls off of you. You get to your feet to inspect it for yourself and discover an array of colourful gadgets, some that you’ve tried before and others that you’re sure needs to have an instruction manual with it.    “I’m not putting any of these dildos in me, Tae. I don’t know where they’ve been.”   “I know.” He lays with his head propped up by his hand and you eye something at the bottom of the basket. You pull out a leather whip and look at him. “Ooh, a classic pick there, sweetheart.”   A whip seems more sanitary considering it doesn’t have to go in anyone’s orifices.   “Is it?” You approach with a tiny smile, staring down the innocent man. “Roll over.”   “What?”   “I’ll whip you.” You grin and he blinks at you. More often than not, you’re the more submissive one in bed, but the idea of having Taehyung crying out and the idea of you cackling at his pain has him immediately rolling face down in intrigue and you stepping up on the bed.   He turns his face to the side. “Do you know how to do it?”   “How hard can it be?” There’s a pause. “But tell me if it hurts.”   “The point is to make it hurt, Y/N.”   “Yeah, but I don’t want to hurt you-hurt you.”   “I can handle it.” Taehyung smirks and you scoff.    Even in this position, he’s trying to maintain his dominance.   You grip it tightly and don’t count. Simply, with a flick your wrist, you slam the whip across his backside. It makes a loud cracking sound and you hear Taehyung sharply inhale. His teeth grit and you freeze, watching his expression carefully.   “How was it?”   “Is my back split open?” he asks, trying to look over his shoulder.   “No.”   “I think I might have to go to the ER.” He sits up completely, overdramatic in the way he fumbles around and his tone filled with some mischief. “I think there’s internal bleeding. Or my spine is broken. I wouldn’t be surprised.”   “It’s fine, Tae.” you laugh. So much for telling you to go for it. But you already had an inkling Taehyung wasn’t one for receiving pain. After all, he’s still your whiny baby who only eats vanilla yogurt. “Not your thing?”   “Not my thing.” He takes the whip from your hand and tosses it across the room. “I have a better toy in mind.”   You’re about to remind him you’re not gonna put any of those communal toys inside of you, but he instead walks over to his suitcase and starts tearing some clear packaging open with something pink inside. You read the label — it’s a remote control vibrating egg.   Your brows furrow. “When did you get that?”   “Two days before we left. Amazon prime, babe.”   “So that’s what you were looking at when you told me you were doing some online shopping?”   “Precisely.” Taehyung grins and you’re not sure if you should be pleasantly surprised or in dismay since the two of you have already made a pact not to buy anything else online. The treadmill bought on an impulse is still taking up half the space of the living room.   Before you can think too much, Taehyung gets it open and comes over. He nudges your thighs to open and you lay back, leaning against the headboard. You’re not that wet yet, if at all, but it doesn’t stay that way when his long fingers rub against your clit in circles.    With his other hand, he strokes against your slit and then sinks his index finger in knuckle deep. You throw back your head, moaning his name at the intrusion while he remains silent, intently watching your pink cunt squeeze. Taehyung curls his finger and swallows hard. The sloppy sounds of your cunt fill the room and he hums in satisfaction.   “Okay. Ready?”   “Uh-huh.”   The head of the cold egg meets your folds and it slowly enters. While the toy might not be big or long, the girth stretches against your warm walls and you keen. Taehyung makes a low noise, encouraging you to take it. When it’s in, he smiles brilliantly. “Good job, sweetheart. You did it.”   “Now what?”   “This, of course.” Taehyung dangles the remote in front of you and then like a psycho, he ramps it up to the highest possible setting. Intense vibrations are felt through your body instantaneously and you cry, head knocked back against the headboard as your velvet walls squeeze and tremble.   “T-Taehyung!”   “Good?”   “I-It’s too much!” You’re completely at his mercy and he takes advantage of it, drinking you in with a wolfish smile. You’re unable to muster a glare at him, reduced to a complete mess while your center leaks and drips onto the sheet. Still, you try to reach over to the remote.   He dodges when you lunge at him. “Nu-uh.”   Luckily, you get a hold of your husband and climb over to him. His arm is extended straight up, laughing as you try to snatch it from him. He waves it inches away to mock you while enjoying the sight of you quivering on top of him. “T-Tae!”   “Okay, okay.” He laughs and transfers it into his other hand, about to turn the setting down a notch. But right at the moment you’re about to snag it for yourself, the remote flies out of his hand. It falls through the gap between the wall and the headboard.   It clatters to the ground.   “Oh shit.”   “Taehyung!”   “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He rolls off the mattress and looks underneath the bed before abruptly standing. “I’m going to need a long stick or something.”   He starts to look around the room, searching for a tool to grab the remote that’s out of reach, and you don’t know if you should suffocate him with a pillow or facepalm yourself hard enough to get knocked out into a coma.   You can pull out the egg yourself, but the violent vibrations were beginning to thrum pleasure through you, so as your useless husband goes fishing for the remote, you finish the job. Your fingers play with your clit, rubbing the bud as your slick drips down your thighs and you come hard on the toy.   The same moment light flashes beneath your eyelids and your toes curl, Taehyung grabs the remote with the help of a rolled brochure and shuts it off. The both of you are winded for different reasons.   “You know, I'd say that was pretty hot if not for how stressful that actually was.”   “You’re an idiot.” You tug the toy out of you and bat him over lazily, feeling spent on how hard you came. “Now dump some sperm in me, idiot.”   Taehyung has a cheesy grin and climbs over you. Despite the struggles of grabbing the toy’s remote, he’s fully hard from the noises you were making. “I’d tell you to ask more nicely, but I’ll let it go.”   He aligns the head of his weeping cock to your swollen cunt and leans his weight into you. He starts to push in and you whine, gripping his forearms. As wet as you are, Taehyung is still well-endowed — less girthy than the toy, but there’s a considerable length to him.    When he bottoms out, you can feel him all the way to your throat.   He tucks sweaty strands of hair behind your ear and kisses you. “Sorry about earlier.”   “’t’s okay. It was fun,” you admit and he smiles, starting to work up a good rhythm. You feel hot in your face with the pressure of his body on top of yours, hardened nipples brushing against his chest. Your cunt pulses and squeezes around his length. It draws Taehyung’s groans into your neck.   “F-Fuck. You’re so tight.”   It feels good and you know he’s reveling in the pleasure too. His eyes are shut tight, the scrunch made between his brows and it entices you to reach up and kiss him to which he sweetly indulges you. Your tongues twine as you pant against each other and Taehyung starts to lose his pacing.   He bends your knee, hitting you at a deeper angle as his strokes become increasingly frantic and quick. You egg him on and he groans once more before he thrusts himself as deep as he can go and cums. Ropes of white paint your walls, the head of his cock against your cervix and filling your cunt and womb up. You can feel some of it dribbling out, seeping past your folds and when Taehyung’s about to withdraw, you quickly grab his forearm.   “Wait. Just stay put for a second. I have to keep it in.”   He nods and kisses your lips. “Okay.”   Taehyung nestles into you, nuzzling into your neck and you hope this is the one.

[Day Three]   There were lots of activities and amenities offered and advertised by Jimin during the introduction of the retreat, but you realize you might’ve missed over the most important one of all.   “How does that feel?” the massage therapist asks as she works a knot out of your shoulders and smooths your skin with the oil.   “Amazing,” you murmur from the corner of your mouth, melted against the table.    Couples massages were something you always scoffed at, but holy shit, it’s absolutely paradise. With the breeze blowing through the pitched tent and the glowing humidifier releasing a fresh scent, you’ve never been more relaxed as all the stiffness is worked out of you.   You open your eyes to see Taehyung enjoying it as well — though not as much as you are since he’s quite ticklish. Sometimes, he squirms a bit too much and his massage therapist is at a loss of what to do.   But when it’s all done, you feel like you’re in a new body. “Oh my god. I think I’m more flexible than before. Look, Tae!”   You stretch your leg and he giggles at how happy your mood is. “If I knew you liked it this much, I would’ve signed us up for one at the spy near the gym.”   Your eyes are wide, catching the sunlight. “Do you think they’re as good as this place?”   Taehyung grins. “Probably.”   “We should go when we get back then. Oh, do you wanna check out the library?”   “Sure.”   You grab his hand, lacing your fingers together and he smiles to himself.    It’s a free day without many planned activities, giving you both an opportunity to look around the retreat for yourselves and take it easy. And the pair of you take full advantage of the opportunity. Since morning, you were lazing around the yurt and after breakfast and the massages, you decide to lay in one of the hammocks by the trees while Taehyung naps with you.    Said man hasn't seen you this stress free in a while, so he happily indulges you in all your wishes. Even when night falls and you step away from the stage where Hyunjin is performing again to stargaze. It’s an odd activity for you since mosquitoes love to especially swarm around you when given the chance and on numerous occasions, you’ve been a moth landing spot.   But tonight, the breeze is soft and gentle, and you don't feel any tickles on your skin that isn’t Taehyung’s hand grazing against yours. The grass is pliant beneath your feet and the fairy lights twinkle far away enough that its luminescence doesn’t obstruct. You knock your heads back to view the horizon, allowing the darkness to engulf you and the stars to emerge.   “Remember Bali?”   “When you lost your passport?”   “When we went stargazing with the tour group,” Taehyung corrects. “It still wasn’t as beautiful as this.”   “You think everything in front of you is the most beautiful thing you’ve seen. You said that about the Eiffel and then Tokyo Tower.”   He laughs. “Hey, my mind doesn’t change that often. You’re still the most beautiful thing I’ve seen.”   You scoff, looking away from the sky towards him with a pout. He always knows how to lay on the sappiness without needing to blink. Your dear husband has always been shameless in that aspect and you adore him for it. “So I’m a thing to you now?”   “You know that’s not what I mean.” He wraps his arms around your waist. The both of you stare up at the sky. “Is that the big dipper?”   You look at where he’s pointing to the large clusters of stars. “I can’t see it. Maybe that’s scorpio.”   “Nah, I don’t think so.” Taehyung tries guessing, “It might be taurus or gemini. Or libra.”   “Aren’t you just naming astrological signs now?”   “Maybe.” He grins. “I’m a capricorn.”   “Yes, I know.” You two of you clearly don’t know anything about constellations or how to find them, but it doesn’t make the moment any less enjoyable. Yet when your necks start to ache, he takes your hand and strolls down the path through the trees. “Taehyung. What if we get lost?”   None of you have your phones or any flashlights. There’s only the crescent moon giving off its light. “Don’t worry. I have a great sense of direction.”   “You and I both know that’s not true.”   “You have a great sense of direction, so we won’t get lost,” he says and you sigh without putting much of an argument up. Not when you knew he was headed to the lake you had peeked at earlier in the afternoon, and now it was shimmering with the moonlight, reflecting the starry horizon in its water.   There’s a certain kind of peacefulness, a serenity that you would never get back in the city or even the suburbs. Certainly not without light pollution or the occasional car whizzing past. Here, there is none of those noises, none of those distractions, just you and Taehyung savouring the view⁠—   “Hey.” But of course, your mischievous husband has to have ulterior motives for coming all the way here. And you know there are ulterior motives by that glint in his eye and the sly smile he has.   “What?”    “Wanna take a dip?”   Your brows shoot to your hairline. “Are you crazy? It’s probably freezing! What if we get hypothermia and die?”   “For the record, you’d make one beautiful angel. But I’ll warm you up before it gets to that point.” Taehyung grins and starts stripping, tugging his shirt right off his head. It’s always been like this — him proposing something out of your norm, you try to voice your concerns, and then you’re the one who’s diving head first into it without hesitation and end up having more fun than he does.   “God, it’s so cold!”    The moment the water touches your toes, you recoil. But you brace yourself and continue onward with your entire body shivering. It’s your first time skinny dipping ⁠— something normally reserved for rebellious teenagers and most certainly not for late twenty-some year olds. Yet neither of you have qualms, even if you’re shrieking and Taehyung is laughing and following behind you.   “It’s freezing, Taehyung!”   “Come here.” He pulls you to him so your backside is pressed to his front and you wonder how Taehyung can be so warm all the time. The pair of you get waist deep into it and you turn around to grip him. Your husband smiles and holds onto you, eventually going far enough that the water reaches your shoulders. “See? Isn’t this nice?”   You hum, gazing up at the stars and the moon, the sight reflected on the water and how you’re pressed to Taehyung. “Seems like the beginning of a horror movie.” He laughs and your feet try to reach down to find stability, but you realize you can’t touch the ground anymore and your grip on him tightens. “Walk back a bit, Tae.”   “Why?”   “You know I can’t swim.”   His mouth curls. “But I like how you’re holding onto me. I won’t let go,” he adds after a long pause, “if you beg me not to.”   Your arms immediately come to loop around his neck and your legs wrap around his waist, latching onto him in a vice grip like a koala does to a branch. “Taehyung! I’m not kidding.”   “Oh...oh!” The bastard pretends that he’s gonna let go of you and actually does for a split-second. He laughs at your panicked expression. “I’m kidding! I’m kidding!”   You feign a pointed glare that turns out to be more of a pout. “You’re lucky I like you.”   “You only like me?”   “Yeah and if you keep going, I’m going to demote you from husband to friend.”   Taehyung makes a pained, sharp sound. “Can’t let that happen then.” He suddenly hoists you up higher, grip secure on your thighs and smiles brilliantly while you scoff.   You savour the view and the warmth of his body heat, but you’re slightly distracted. “Do you think anyone’s gonna steal our clothes, Tae?” You squint at the small pile near the shore.   “Who would?”   “I don’t know. What if a bear comes from the bushes and takes them? We’ll have to walk back naked.”   “I’m pretty sure there aren’t bears here, Y/N. Stop overthinking it.” Taehyung suddenly grabs a hold of your chin and turns your head for you to look only at him. Then, he kisses you in a soft and gentle way before the tip of his tongue meets the seam of your lips. You happily oblige, parting them and allowing him access to your tongue and giving him a taste of you.   The man hums in satisfaction as soft smacking noises fill the surroundings. You lean into his firm frame while Taehyung’s large hands slinks from your thigh to the curve of your ass. You feel his thumb probe against your folds.   “T-Taehyung.” His hard length is beneath you and you grind down on him, feeling empty. It draws a groan from his throat.   After a moment, you get his cock inside of you. The stretch soothes the itch you had, filling your cunt deliciously. But unlike the movies, it’s not enough for you. The water washes away the lubricant, each stroke rough and the glide slower than you’d like. So you beg him and the both of you are dragged up onto the shore again.   You turn on all fours. The pebbles uncomfortably dig into your knees, but it’s a distraction that blurs into the background when Taehyung pounds into you. You feel all of him, his body heat against yours, each thrusting movement flicking off the droplets of water from your skin. And when Taehyung turns your head to kiss you while rubbing at your clit, you cum around his cock.   He finishes as you beg for it and Taehyung’s sticky fluids leak down your thighs on the trek back.

[Day Four]   Taehyung blinks blearily, slowly coming to consciousness. He scratches his bed head and groans at how his muscles ache. But when he turns his head, the other side of the bed is cold and empty. His eyes widen in confusion and he feels more awake than before.   He checks the time and realizes he slept in, a total of ten hours, which isn’t a surprise considering how last night’s rendezvous continued and was more intense than usual. What is unusually, however, is that you’re gone.   But he soon finds you outside. Bathing in the sun. Laying in a hammock. Napping with a book next to you.   Your eyes flutter open as his shadow covers your figure. The corner of his mouth pulls.   “Morning.”   You sheepishly grin. “Morning.”    “What time did you get up?”   “Like an hour ago. The breeze was nice so I thought I’d do some reading, but I guess I accidentally fell asleep.”   “Looks like you’ve gotten comfortable.” Taehyung’s enormous smile aches his cheeks. You’ve fallen in love with this place more than he has, but he doesn’t mind whatsoever. He loves watching you have fun.   The two of you have breakfast, inhaling in the food, and then head to a meditation class on the grass led by Hyunjin. Typically, Taehyung has to convince you to take part in such a session and you’d usually wave it off as a waste of time. But there are no qualms or an ounce of hesitation in your expression when you head over.   “Now breathe in, and out, a steady stream of breath. Think about all that you are grateful for. Everything that has made your life amazing, and let that positive energy surround you as the negative energy releases.”   But while you’re eager, Taehyung, on the other hand, finds out that meditation is not cut out for him. He’s bored out of his mind from the lack of stimulation. Time feels like it’s dragging on slower, each second a minute and a minute is an hour. Somehow, meditating makes him feel even more exhausted than before and his mind ends up wandering.   Taehyung thinks about how he’s really craving some fatty burgers instead of the organic oatmeal and yogurt he had — how hot the weather is — how it’s hard to breathe — how sweat sticks to his skin.   “Hold your breath for three seconds and release for three seconds.”   He sighs and peels back an eye to see you with your hands pressed together, concentrated in following instructions. The corner of his mouth tickles into a smile.   As bored as he is, it’s worth seeing you happy.   //   The more excited you are about something, the more you run around from place to place and Taehyung’s resorted to looking for you. Luckily, the resort is small, so he finds you in front of the main building, chatting to a certain brunette with a half-moon smile and chubby cheeks.   “—heard that doggy actually works for some people, but for me, it doesn’t feel right...like…”   “The head of the cock isn’t right up against the cervix?” Jimin hums thoughtfully. “Have you tried angling your leg better? Sometimes you need to bend a bit and he needs to be leaning towards the side rather than just hovering straight on top.”   What.   Taehyung’s brows lift and he quickly approaches. Your face lights up when you see him. “Oh, hey.”   “I was looking for you.” Taehyung throws his arm over your shoulder and subtly tugs you into his chest. He looks at the other man, eyes narrowed in on him which he doesn’t seem to notice.   “Sorry, I was just caught up with Jimin.”   “What were you talking about?”   “What position is best for conception.” You blink innocently like it’s not a big deal you’re exploiting the details about your sex lives to another guy, and while he’s not embarrassed whatsoever, it was a bit too much information being shared for Taehyung’s liking. “Turns out elevating the hips might not help as much as we thought it does.”   “Huh.” Taehyung deadpans, “That’s interesting.”   “I know, right?” Your expression is bright, oblivious to his turmoil. At the same time, Hyunjin exits from the building in yet another flower crown and flowy skirt. She smiles at the both of you and joins Jimin’s side, planting a sweet kiss on his cheek and holding his hand.   “Hope I wasn’t interrupting anything important.”   You smile at her. “No, it’s okay.”   The woman nods and looks to her partner while her voice drops into a more private tone. “Just wanted to let you know that Taehoon and I are done.”   As if to validate her words, a timid yet tall man exits the building and they wave goodbye to one another before he walks off towards the parking lot. Jimin smiles. “Did you have fun?”   “Yeah. It was nice.”   Both you and Taehyung exchange expressions. He wonders if you’re thinking what he is or if he’s understanding the insinuations correctly.    As if they catch the inquisitive looks on your faces, they smile in a relaxed way. There’s no need to explain anything to either of you when you’re strangers, but they’re open enough and Hyunjin says, “Taehoon’s my second partner.”   “Second...partner?”    “Hyunjin and I are in an open relationship,” Jimin clarifies in a friendly manner. “It’s not really traditional, but it works well for us.”   “Oh.” Taehyung and you wordlessly bob your heads. He’s pretty sure they mentioned it during their introduction but it slipped his mind. They must get asked a lot of questions too since Hyunjin answers what he’s thinking, telling the both of you there’s not a lot of jealousy involved since they trust each other wholeheartedly and communicate a lot. And rather than finding it bizarre, you’re left intrigued. Taehyung notices as you walk away.   “Do you want an open relationship too?”   “You know it would never work for us.” You lean over, hugging his arm. “I’m too possessive for that.”   He laughs. “Then what about talking to Jimin about our sex positions?”   “He’s a professional.” You shrug. “I thought I could get helpful advice. Why?”   “Nothing, it’s just kind of weird.”    Jimin doesn’t look like a professional. He looks like just some dude in khaki shorts and a white shirt, obnoxiously bulging biceps, probably has rock hard abs, and he’s in an open relationship and clearly doesn’t mind chatting up you, aka Taehyung’s wife.   “Are you jealous?”   “What? No.” Taehyung scoffs, suddenly defensive and you give him that look like you know him better than that. “I just don’t think we don’t need to ask for help yet, and at least not about our positions. We’re gonna have a baby one way or another, Y/N. We just have to be patient.”   “Tell that to my dying eggs.” You walk off and Taehyung grins.   “My sperm’s strong enough that it’ll rescue your dying eggs.”   //   Evening eventually comes and you try to revel in the surrounding sights, the atmosphere of the entire place and the very cozy yurt you’ve grown to adore. It’s sad knowing that tomorrow you’ll have to depart from the resort. You regret not coming here with a more open mind. That way, you could’ve enjoyed and embraced this place much sooner.   “Actually, I’m kind of glad. I’m getting sick of them serving the same food.”   You’re shocked at your husband’s apathy. “But it’s antioxidant-rich—”   “I just want some fried chicken or a burger.”   You scoff. “That’s why the doctor told you to lower your blood sugar and you’re not even over forty yet.” But still, you’re taken aback that he’s not in love with the resort. “Out of everyone, I thought this would’ve been your haven. I was expecting you to beg me to build a cabin here or something to stay.”   Taehyung hums, leaning back into the chair. “I’m not saying the resort is bad. As long as I get to spend time with you, I like it. And I like that you like it.”   “Psh.” He always knows how to say the right thing, especially when he’s doing it absentmindedly and not trying to get something out of you. You lean over, hand lifting to squeeze his cheeks together and you turn his head to kiss him. Taehyung smiles at the soft and affectionate gesture. But you look at him with half-lidded eyes that mean more. “Wanna ditch?”   It’s the final celebration that Jimin and Hyunjin are happily hosting, but you don’t mind leaving for some more quality time with Taehyung, and he happily agrees.   The both of you sneak out of the crowd, stumbling back into the yurt, giggly and giddy like you’re still teenagers trying to be stealthy at midnight. Taehyung kisses you silly and soon, your back is hitting the mattress. He almost rips your dress with how hastily he tries to tear it off your head and you’re stuck for a moment until you manage to get it off.   But in spite of how childish your antics are or how Taehyung blows raspberries on your tummy, each one of his touches is intimate and loving. He holds your hips down and eats you out until you cum twice. Then you’re flipped onto your stomach with him on top of you — his cock is dug into your pussy, every draw and thrust delicious. Your walls pulse along his length and you moan his name and clutch the sheets with tight fists.   You relish in the pressure of his body pressed on top of yours as he pounds into you. It only takes a few minutes before he’s releasing into your womb, cumming hard enough that you feel it too.   He rolls off of you, spent, but you gather your energy and hold him down for a second round.   You’re a woman on a mission and you’re going to make sure you leave this resort with Kim Taehyung’s baby inside of you.

[Day Five]   The final day of the resort has arrived much to your dismay, and you feel sad enough to cry.   “Thank you so much for all you’ve done.”   “It’s our pleasure.” Hyunjin grins, her arms wrapped around Jimin’s. “We just hope you had a great time at our resort.”   “Yes, I really loved it.”   “Our doors are always open,” Jimin affirms. “If nothing’s stuck, you can always come back or if you’re ever looking for more siblings for the little one, you can come again too. We’re happy to welcome anyone that’s family back.”   You’re moved by their words and much to Taehyung’s dismay, you give a brief embrace to each of them. You also manage to see the newlywed couple, Hoseok and Rose, who are still smiling and somehow look even more in-love than when they arrived. Dahyun and Seokjin, as well, wish you luck on your adventures.    “We might be coming back real soon.” The woman sighs, hitching her thumb over her shoulder. “That husband of mine is planning to book another trip next month.”   “So soon?”   Dahyun nods with a long exhale. “I think he’s hoping I’m not pregnant so we can come here again.” Your laugh spurs on her own and you’re able to resonate with the hopelessness of husbands.   Everyone is boarding the same bus, but this is the last opportunity to gather when people are getting dropped off from different places. So you make sure to savour the moment, get your last goodbyes in, and Taehyung pulls out his phone to snap several pictures of you for keepsakes.   Then, the two of you board the bus with your luggage and settle in your seats.   “You know,” you pipe up and Taehyung turns to you. “Even if we didn’t conceive, it was still fun.”   He smiles while taking his hand. “Yeah? I’m glad.” Taehyung laces his fingers with yours and you lean your head on his shoulder as he, too, leans his head on top of yours.   The bus pulls out of the lot and onto the road. Jimin and Hyunjin wave with brilliant grins, and together, you and Taehyung watch the little resort become a particle in the distance.

[Epilogue]   This is terrible. Unexpected and spontaneous.   “I have bad news.” You’re leaning against the door frame of Taehyung’s office and at your tone of voice, your husband looks away from the computer screen with wide eyes.   “Are you divorcing me?”   “No.”   “Did you lose your job?”   “No.”   His entire body deflates in a sigh of relief and he leans back, hands grasping the armrests of his swivel chair. “Thank god because I just bought those new shake weights that were shown on TV.”   “Yea— wait. What?”   Taehyung’s bubbling laughter comes from his chest. “What is it?”   He doesn’t notice the stick in your hand, so you throw it at him. Luckily, Taehyung’s reflexes are still in good shape and he claps his hands together, catching the stick before it hits his head. But then his brows furrow in confusion.   “You’re probably going to need to wash your hands after that. I peed on it.”   He doesn’t answer. Your oblivious husband instead takes a long second to inspect the stick and his pupils dilate. He finally realizes what it is and looks carefully. In the meanwhile, you hitch your breath, feeling unsettled. But then the most enormous smile stretches into his cheeks.    It almost looks like his smile is about to break his face.   “You’re pregnant,” Taehyung murmurs.   “I sure am.”   He looks at you. And then the stick. Then he looks at you again. Taehyung searches your expression in alarm as your words echo back to him. “Why is this bad news? D-did you change your mind? Do you not want kids?”   You shake your head. “No. This is fantastic news. I just wanted an excuse to go to the retreat again.”   He laughs and exhales a long breath. Taehyung scoots his chair over using the heels of his feet and comes to you. He throws his arms around your torso in a secure embrace while his ear is pressed gently to the flat plane of your stomach that’ll soon swell in the coming months. “God, you’re going to be the death of me, woman.”   Taehyung’s brown eyes are lit with mirth and you ease into his hug as your fingers comb through his dark locks. Finally, you’re going to be parents. After waiting and hoping for so long, it was now on the horizon. There’s a sense of fear in you both, but you’re overwhelmed with euphoria and excitement.   “We can always go back for the next kid.”   “I haven’t even had this one yet and you’re already thinking of another.”   “I can’t help it.” Taehyung grins, looking up at you and you lean down to kiss his smile.   You have a feeling this baby’s going to be loved beyond belief.

[katzkinder]

London Bridge Is Falling Down

Envy Pair version of my Counting Sheep series! Himiko is my headcanon for the name of Mikuni's mother. Since Mikuni's name contains the character for "kingdom," I thought this name belonging to an ancient queen suited his mother well.

Mikuni is annoying.

That’s something Jeje has always known, ever since Mikuni was a child, ever since the first time he saw him, bounding around his mother’s skirts and throwing himself into Lily’s arms to be held and cuddled and fawned over while Jeje had slunk back to the cellars. Himiko had been so bright, back then, the rot of Envy not yet showing in a visible way, that tiny baby that would grow into his brother’s Eve gurgling happily in her arms.

Jeje was the one who had found him. Himiko had wept when she saw him, all the anger and hate leaving her at once, vanishing as if it never existed when she laid her eyes on the fragile little bundle, swaddled in soft fabrics with little gloves on his impossibly tiny hands. She had sobbed all the harder when she took the crying child from him, her hands shaking while she cradled him close, useless apologies spilling from her pretty lips. The body of the babe’s mother had rapidly been growing cold on the carpet, and little Misono… Would remember none of it.

(Jeje remembered all of it, though. He doesn’t think a single moment will ever fade from his mind, no matter how many eons pass)

As Mikuni had grown, with Jeje watching over him as a silent, imposing, guardian angel, always behind the boy’s mother while she had read bedtime stories to him, always so aware of those bright, bright, too bright eyes, Jeje had also become aware of a number of other things, and those things remained true into adulthood. Mikuni has all of his mother’s gorgeous looks (and some from his father, but admitting as such is just asking to be choked), her stubborn brightness, her sharp tongue and wit, but more than any of that...

Mikuni is annoying.

...Because he never listens to what’s good for him. Just like his mother before him, he had taken Jeje despite his warnings, and some bitter, sick part of Jeje had wanted him to. The same part of him that had given in to Himiko herself.

But, well, he’d always known Mikuni never listened, too.

He wonders if Lily knows, though he doubts that he’s aware, of those golden afternoons when Mikuni would sneak down to his hiding place and find him lurking near the boilers, the excited, terrified whispers of Lily’s children, his human children, chasing after the young heir as he confidently hopped down, step by step, into the “monster’s” lair.

They had talked. About nothing. About everything. Well, actually, Mikuni had talked, seemingly not caring that Jeje never said much back, incredible and beautiful and… Well, there was a reason everyone called Mikuni brilliant.

Jeje knew better, though.

***

The most annoying thing about Mikuni, in his opinion, is not how loud he is. It’s not his contrariness, or his capriciousness, or his constant, gnawing curiosity causing him to make mischief.

The most annoying thing about Mikuni was how badly he wanted people to think he was naturally good at everything.

See, Mikuni was smart. Jeje would give him that. But he was also very stupid. It wasn’t as if he lacked common sense, though sometimes Jeje wondered, but it was like Mikuni wanted people to resent him.

More than anyone Jeje had ever met, his Eve was a hard worker. Someone who hated owing others a single damn thing. It was that useless pride and sense of responsibility for things that couldn’t possibly be Mikuni’s fault, things Jeje suspected, no matter how much he denied it, Mikuni had learned, had internalized, from his father and from Lily, that was why Jeje refused to call Mikuni brilliant like everyone else.

...But he did shine. Like a candle in a darkened room. Like a beacon. Warm, and inviting, someone to warm himself beside, even knowing that that flame would burn him up, just like a moth.

The question was... Who would that flame melt into nothing first?

Jeje would be damned twice over if he let it be his Eve.

Turning away from way he had been watching the other man work late hours, hunched over Nod’s ledgers and planners and Mikuni’s own personal notebooks, where his pen scratched across the surfaces of each calculating profits, expenses, bills, new products and designs and promotions and planning trips, Jeje silently makes his way to their kitchen.

Burning the midnight oil just means you won’t have any left when you truly need it.

A snort, reaching for their cabinets. Of course, that’s what Mikuni had him for.

***

He’s gotten very good at brewing tea. Jeje isn’t much of a chef at all, but living with Mikuni for so long, it was practically guaranteed he’d learn to at least make a semi-decent cup, and thank god he had. He would have truly killed Mikuni by now if he hadn’t, he swears, the man is just as persnickety about his tea as Lily is with his coffee.

...He’s also gained a new appreciation for the stuff, but maybe that comes with the territory of spending hours upon hours listening to Mikuni’s one sided argument about the best ways to drink it. It’s hard not to be impressed with all the little details that goes into brewing what’s considered a perfect cup (by Mikuni’s standards, anyway), and even harder still to not feel a fondness for something that draws such genuine passion out of his once charge, now equal.

...It’s such an odd thought. He knows what people think. That Mikuni has always had a stranglehold on him. That Mikuni has always been in charge. That Mikuni has always been someone… Grown up.

Again. Jeje knows better.

He sets the temperature on their electric kettle, one purchased on one of their many visits to the British Isles, sits at their kitchen table, and waits. Thinks.

Mikuni has been grown up for a long time now. And he will continue to grow, and people will continue to think, no matter Jeje’s efforts, that he is a no good, conniving schemer who would sacrifice them all on a wish and a prayer and something like a maybe.

And, well, perhaps they aren’t wrong. Perhaps Jeje is a fool. But if he’s a fool, he’s a court jester, and as court jester he will make absolutely certain this time that the king does not make his mistakes without someone there to make fun of him for it, even if only behind closed doors, even if only between the two of them.

To everyone else, he is a dictator’s executioner, and that’s fine with him. Everyone else doesn’t matter.

His eyes drift to Mikuni’s favorite cup, one made of glass and painted with delicate, swooping strokes of gold, with lilies and a taupe lacquer surrounding all but a window through which one could admire the lovely colors of their favored drink. He takes it into his hands, so much larger than this tiny cup, and finds himself smiling as he turns the joint birthday gift from the Lust pair over and around, admires those intricate, fancy details that speak of quality and knowing down to the letter exactly what Mikuni’s tastes are.

Well.

Almost everyone.

***

The teapot has been warmed, the kettle filled with mineral water and piping hot, and by the time Jeje finishes steeping the loose leaf tea, their little kitchen clock, kitschy and cute and shaped like a cartoon chicken hatching from an egg, reads 2:17 in the morning.

Jeje picks up the cup, the container of melatonin supplements Mikuni has taken since he was twenty at his Servamp’s behest, and carefully carries both back to where he knows the other man will still be completely absorbed in his work.

True to form, Mikuni is still at it. The predictability of his late night, sleepless habits, of his need to do something with his time, makes Jeje’s frown deepen, ever so slightly.

He wishes Mikuni would just rest. Close his eyes, not do anything, just lie there and let Jeje guard him, just be still, be quiet, like did when he was a child.

… He knows better than to think a mind as stubborn and that moves as fast as his Eve’s could ever achieve that, but he can dream. He can also just sicc the Lust pair on him.

That’ll put him to bed real fast.

“What’re you grinning about over there?”

He startles, not having expected Mikuni to acknowledge his presence, and nearly sloshes hot chamomile with lavender onto the pretty little matching saucer that accompanied the cup. It’s a miracle it didn’t fall over completely. Jeje lets out a breath, so quiet it’s inaudible, and curses himself for forgetting that Mikuni can see him right now.

Then again, even if he was wearing his mask, Mikuni would have seen right through him.

He always does.

His Eve is watching him still, waiting for him to move, and then his eyes flick down to what Jeje has in his hands. His lips twist.

Jeje ignores it and continues to make his way over to where Mikuni had been peacefully working. They don’t speak a word to one another, and no sooner than Jeje sets his cargo down, he’s going back the way he came, knowing it’s useless to try and ply Mikuni with words or favors.

The man is annoying in his stubbornness, too.

He hears a sniff behind him, the scratch of pen on paper once more, but it isn’t long before that little noise stops again. A sigh. Jeje chances peering around the doorframe, smiling, just a tad, as a clearly frustrated Mikuni slaps his pen down onto the counter and picks up his cup, no doubt tempted by the smell of his favorite night time blend.

A swallow. Two.

Mikuni unscrews the lid on the melatonin gummies. Pops a couple into his mouth. Chews, and swallows. The tension leaves his shoulders. He allows himself to savor the warmth in his hands.

Jeje leaves him be and heads upstairs to their room, knowing Mikuni now won’t be far behind.

“Jeje,” Mikuni calls after him, voice soft in that way it sometimes, ever so rarely gets, so quiet Jeje almost misses it. “... You still really suck at this.”

Mikuni is annoying.

[sweetyaoigirl]

Hii, could you write an angst/fluff Deidara x Reader where was Dei hurt during a fight and after he was not returning home, reader would go to look for him and then after she found him, she would take care of his injuries.

Yes of course ^^

I hope you enjoy anon <3

Warnings: Blood, cursing, little bit yandere reader

(Also Deidara is a bit tsundere X3)

It was another boring day as usual in the Akatsuki base.

I woke up and the first thing I noticed is that Deidara is missing.

Early mission ? Yeah but he will be fine. I'm just worried about how many people will he blow up again. Actually I'm not. I don't care about the others. I was only invited to the Akatsuki because of my assassin skills.

Even if leader praise me I simply don't care. In my opinion Deidara is the only normal person here.

Also the most important person to me. I took a liking to that evil terrorist man.

Everyone in the base is teasing me about that.

They are even making fun of me that how can I love someone who is smaller than me. (if you are not that tall reader-chan I'm sorry you can read it how you want X3 ) .

Some days I would like to slice their throats open. But I can't do that because of leader. And Deidara would also be not happy about that.

But because of my assassin skills they can't predict my moves since my kunai is pressed against their throats long time ago.

I smile as I prepared my breakfast thinking about flustrated Deidara every time I compliment his art.

His cheeks always turn pink and says that he knows it even without me saying that. He is so cute when he is like that. If only he knew about my little crush towards him. The whole base already knows that but only Dei is the one who is so blind. But it doesn't matter. I ate my breakfast and sat on my bed.

So how should I spend my free day without mission ? I guess I should paint my nails. The color is coming off. I grabbed my nail polish that was on my shelf and I painted my nails f/c.

When it dried off I stood up and admired my painted nails.

Good. I walked my way to Deidara's room and gently opened the door in case some explosion would fly off.

He used to prepare traps because of Tobi.

When I fully opened the door I noticed all the mess on the floor. He was probably in hurry and leaved his room messy. Geez.

I'm bored so I guess I will clean it. I lazily started cleaning room and when I finished I tossed myself on his bed.

He should be grateful. But I can't just lay on the bed the whole day. I should go train for the rest of the day. By that time Deidara should be back. I stood up and go outside.

The weather was nice, ideal for training.

Let's get started.

Timeskip

It was night already so I decided to return to the base. Deidara should be here any minute. I will make him something for dinner. I started preparing food with a smile on my face.

I put a lot of oil in the meat to make it more delicious and when it was finished I placed it on the table with my eyes widened. It was a little burn up but the taste should be fine. In that minute Sasori came to kitchen and looked at the food that was on the plate.

What is that ? Even my puppets wouldn't eat that if they could to. Sasori said as he leaved.

I grabbed a pan and clenched my fist.

I hate to admit it but he's right. I'm not really expert at cooking but I tried. And he is puppet too so what was he trying to say ? Nevermind I will just lay here and wait for Deidara. I made myself comfortable on the chair I was sitting and laid my head on my hands.

Soon I drifted into a deep sleep.

When I woke up I rubbed my eyes and noticed Zetsu eating human. Great right in front of me.

Hey ! Did Deidara returned ? I asked the plant creature.

He just ate the human and disappeared without saying anything.

Weird creature. At least answer me.

I will go ask the others about Deidara. Maybe they know something.

After I asked every single member nothing came out of their mouths. What is wrong with them ? I'm pretty sure Deidara already had a birthday. Everyone is acting weird. Even Tobi was silent when I asked him. He is the loudest member of the Akatsuki and he should be worried about Deidara. I mean he is always calling him senpai senpai which is pissing me off but now nothing. No I didn't asked everybody. Leader gave him the mission so he should answer me.

I knocked on his door and no one came off. Maybe he is not here. Just when I wanted to leave the door opened and revealed Pain himself.

Leader can I ask about Deidara's mission ? When will he come back ?

Out of my way. I'm busy. He said in that cold tone in his voice.

Even leader ? What is wrong with them ?

Deidara should be already back. He should be here even sooner since he is using his clay bird. I sneaked into the leader's office to search for the files about Deidara's mission. So 2 days mission huh. He should be back today. I was worrying for nothing. Maybe that's why leader didn't answered me.

He is going to be fine. He is going to be fine. I'm sure of it. But my mind was saying something else. Is he okay ? Or is he already coming back ?

No no calm down Y/N. He is going to be fine. If he won't return today, he should be here early in the morning. I reassured myself.

But all day I thought only of Deidara. I don't have a good feeling about this. I came out of the base and sat next to big rock.

I hugged myself as I continued trembling.

Come back as soon as you can Dei. I closed my eyes and few tears escaped from my eyes.

I woke up at the next day but Deidara was nowhere to be seen.

This is bad. He should be here. Something must happened. I must go save him. But I don't know where he is. What should I do ?

The files...

Of course I just need to read where he is.

I sneaked into the office to read about Deidara's mission.

Near the hidden wind village ? I will be right there. Wait for me Deidara. Just be safe. I packed a bunch of kunai and mini shurikens just in case and run away from the akatsuki base.

I was running for my life to get in here as soon as possible.

Did they outnumbered him ? The wind village is very dangerous place even I know that.

Damn it why is it so far ?! How many days will it took me to get here ? There is nothing I can do about it. I must just run.

Why did leader let Deidara go alone ? Even he knows that it is very dangerous country.

Another timeskip ╰(▔∀▔)╯

I made it in one day. That is incredible. Okay where is Dei ? I noticed someone laying on ground and run up to the it seemed like wounded person.

When I look closely it was Deidara.

T-that's no way. Deidara wake up ! Come on you are not dead are you ? Wake up this is not funny !

Hey....

Don't leave me Dei. I placed my hand on top of his bloody hand.

Are you kidding ? There is no way you can die that easily. I sobbed.

W-who i-is there ? Deidara asked.

It's me Deidara. Y/N. I said now with a smile on my face.

W-wha what a-are you doing here ? He asked weakly.

You were not coming back and I was worried about you. I said.

Y-you came a little late. I can't feel my leg. I don't even know if I still have my leg. Deidara chuckled.

What ? I checked his leg and my eyes widened.

With my eyes I could tell he was stabbed more like twenty times.

His entire leg was covered with his blood.

I can't believe that you survived that. Why didn't you come back ?

T-there were so many of them. I-I'm not asking for your help. He caughed blood from his mouth.

His entire body is covered with nasty wounds.

I will help you stand up Deidara.

W-who asked you to help me hmm ?

I came on my own ! I will help you if you like it or not. I placed his hand around my neck.

Do whatever you want. He said avoiding my gaze.

Is your other leg okay ?

Yeah. I can move freely with my other leg un. B-but I'm not saying thank you.

You don't need to. I'm afraid you will lose more blood if we keep walking the whole time to the base. I should have bring some healing supplies.

Don't talk nonsense. Let's move. I faced death so many times.

But now you have someone who cares about you !

I don't care if someone cares about me or not. Just go away.

Deidara are you okay ? Hey stay with me ! He is losing a lot of blood. There is no chance that he will survive if we keep moving.

Y/N I'm afraid that we will not make it in time to the base.

I have my last words.

What are you saying ? Stop joking.

Tell Sasori danna that my art is better than his.

This is your last words ? You idiot. I smiled at him with tears rolling on my face.

And I want to tell you something too. I always admired you. You are such a fine women un. Too bad I won't see you again.

I will watch over you. Deidara fell on ground.

Stop joking ! You are not dying ! This isn't even like you to say such a nice words to me. Or is it because you are really dying ? I clenched my fists as I fell on my knees.

Don't leave me don't leave me don't leave don't leave me don't leave me !!!! I yelled.

No. I refuse to accept this ! I won't let you die ! I know that you can still survive. We will get to the base in no time.

I ripped a fabric from my shirt and wrapped it around Deidara's leg.

The wince in pain means that he is still alive. Thank Jashin.

We crossed the river and I tried to clean his wounds.

When I saw the wounds that were deep and the blood were escaping from them, I ripped my shirt again many times in order to bandage all the wounds.

I'm glad that I'm wearing my Akatsuki cloak because I used almost the whole shirt for Deidara's wounds.

I panted heavily as I dragged Deidara with me. I couldn't feel my legs but I kept walking. I don't know how many hours are we even walking.

With a lot of breaks and walking I looked up at the two rock platforms.

We are home Deidara. I turned to face the still unconscious Deidara.

I opened his door with my leg and gently laid him on the bed.

I changed his bandages and cleaned his wounds.

Ughhh. He grunted.

It might hurt a little bit but you will be okay. I caressed his cheek and it seemed like he calmed down.

I came to my room to put something on beneath my akatsuki cloak and then I returned to Deidara's room. He was sleeping peacefully so I decided to let him rest.

The next day Deidara finally woke up.

Where am I un ? He asked still sleepy.

In the base. I'm suprised that you woke up so soon. I said.

You ! You bringed me here ?! Alone ? Are you out of your mind ?! Who would go so far for me ?!!

Me. I'm so glad that you are okay. I hugged him tightly.

Ow ow my wounds ! Are you out of your mind ? Who allowed you to hug me un ?!

Sorry I couldn't helped myself. I just want to say welcome back. I said shily.

You are really big idiot going so far for me. He smiled.

Is that true that I'm important to you ? I asked.

What ? What are you saying un ?

You said it. You even said that it's too bad I won't see you again. Do you feel the same like me ? I asked all curious.

Shut up ! I never said something like that. It must be your imagination. I would never say something like that even if I would die. Deidara crossed his arms.

Is that so ? But I remember that you said it. I teased.

Leave me alone ! I would never say such a bullshit.

Right right. I will leave you now. I opened the door my leg already outside but voice stopped me.

Wait ! Maybe what I said is true but don't you dare say it to others you got it un ?!

I smiled at his confession.

Yes don't worry. It will be our secret. I winked at him.

Also.....thank you......for saving me. He tried to hide his blush but I noticed it.

I will never let something bad happen to you ever again Dei.

Shut up ! Just because you are a little bit taller than me doesn't mean that I can't protect you too !

So you would protect me too ?

I-I didn't said that ! Just shut up !!!

[nicknellie]

@theanarik requested: a willex alive au, friends pining so much for each other to lovers, in which Alex maybe gets flirted at and he tries to downplay it but Willie gets jealous (or vice versa) and they end up fighting about it but then realize they are in love with each other BUT THEN THEY DON'T DO ANYTHING ABOUT IT. And then they kith out of nowhere????

I love this prompt so much, I’m always here for friends to lovers and pining! Thank you so much for suggesting it! I’m going to be honest, most of this was written between midnight and half past one in the morning, but that’s when I do my best work so I honestly think this might be one of my favourite and best things I’ve written.

Delicately Deliberate

It was a typical Saturday. Though the day was bleak and chilly, the sun shone brightly, illuminating the otherwise washed-out early spring streets and the bustling people going about their business, heads bowed against the biting breeze. Alex stood outside the museum doors like every Saturday, wrapped up warm in two hoodies but relishing the feeling of the sun on his face – he could bear the cold if only for the promise of brighter, happier days. He was waiting for Willie; they met at the museum every Saturday because entry was half price and they both enjoyed visiting. Luke called these meet-ups dates, Reggie called them cute, and Julie called them domestic, but Alex simply called them friendship.

But there were times he had to remind even himself that that was all there was between him and Willie, a friendship. A very close friendship, but a friendship nonetheless. So what if they held hands more often than not? Sometimes holding hands with friends was comforting. So what if when they met up at the museum they talked about their days, shared secrets and gossip, stared at each other more than they did the artwork? Sometimes it was nice to catch up with a friend. So what if Alex’s heart skipped a beat every time Willie laughed? Sometimes it was nice to see a friend be happy.

Although he could admit that maybe he was lying to himself with that one. Every time Willie flipped his hair, smiled that cheeky smile, playfully nudged Alex’s arm, discreetly slipped his hand into Alex’s, or truth be told did anything at all, Alex melted. If Willie smiled, Alex smiled; if Willie laughed, Alex laughed; if Willie was sad, Alex was too. He knew that his feelings for Willie ran deeper than just friendship, but what they had – this friendship of theirs – it was good, it was silly and fun and he didn’t want to do anything to ruin it.

So he took those silent confessions to himself, every thought about the crinkle of Willie’s eyes as he smiled or his endearingly scuffed shoes or his legs that were covered in plasters more often than not, and he locked them far away. Besides – he loved being friends with Willie.

“Hey, hotdog,” Willie said, sliding up to Alex with a smile brighter than the sun, hopping off his skateboard and tucking it under his arm. “Sorry I took so long. Traffic was hell.”

As Willie took off his helmet and shook his hair free, Alex wanted to tell him that the way the sun glinted off his hair made him look like an angel on Earth, and the way it caught in his eyes made them shine brighter than any star. He wanted to say that when the streaky sunlight broke through the clouds it was as if it sought Willie out specifically to shine on him, to show him off to the world, to make him glow.

Instead of saying any of that, Alex pointed out, “You don’t drive.”

“I skated directly into someone,” Willie admitted with a shrug. “They threatened to sue me but I’m pretty sure they were joking. I don’t know, I skated away before they could say anything else.”

Alex wasn’t the least bit surprised. Willie was amazing on a skateboard but he had the unfortunate tendency of getting lost in his own thoughts which led to a worrying amount of accidents. Once Alex had pulled him out of the way of an oncoming car just moments before disaster would have struck – when he had asked Willie what he had been thinking about that had distracted him so much, he hadn’t been given an answer.

“Well, I say we get inside before whoever you ran over finds you and seeks their revenge,” Alex said, gesturing to the museum behind him. Willie beamed and took Alex’s hand, leading him inside.

They had a very comfortable Saturday routine. They met at the museum at ten o’clock and whoever arrived first (usually Alex because he hated being late) would wait for the other. They would go in, pay their entry fees, alternating each week between who paid, and they would wander around. They wouldn’t pay much attention to the exhibits unless there was something new or a temporary instalment to check out – mostly they just talked to each other, enjoying one another’s company. In a completely friendly way, Alex had to remind himself on occasion.

Their schedule didn’t waver, and neither did the museum’s, so every time they came it was the same guy on reception. As a result, they’d become sort of friendly with him, enough to be on a first name basis. His name was Todd, a lanky redhead with kind eyes and a permanent smile. He was a charming boy about Alex and Willie’s age who had a weekend job at the museum. He was always pleased to see them, and chatting to him was a nice part of their weekly routine, Alex thought.

Willie had never seemed keen on Todd. Alex had never figured out why and Willie was unwilling to tell him.

“Like clockwork,” Todd said as they approached the front desk. He was grinning from ear to ear, enthusiastic as always. Alex smiled back at him. “The usual? Two tickets coming right up. Which one of you is paying today?”

“I think that’s me,” Alex said, reaching into his pocket to dig out his wallet. He handed over the cash and Todd, if possible, smiled even wider.

“Look at you, always the gentleman,” he said, laughing too loudly. Alex smiled awkwardly. “You should really let someone be a gentleman for you once in a while.”

Alex wasn’t sure what he was getting at. Todd knew that he and Willie took turns paying, it happened every week, surely it was obvious that Willie was just as gentlemanly as he was.

“Well, Willie does it quite a lot,” he pointed out. Willie smiled gently at him, playfully nudging him in a way that sent his heart into overdrive. Todd just tittered.

“Yes, well,” he said dismissively. “If you’d let me then I could show you just how much of a gentleman I can be. I know I’m at work so I shouldn’t really be asking, but would you mind if I got your number?”

Oh. Oh. That’s what this was. Todd was flirting. Probably – people usually only asked for other people’s numbers when they wanted to go on a date, right? And Todd had said he wanted to prove he could be a gentleman. Surely that meant he was planning on asking Alex out?

Alex suddenly had no idea what to do. If he was reading this right, and he was fairly certain he was, then he and Todd were on completely different pages. Alex saw Todd as an acquaintance and that was how he wanted to stay, he didn’t want it to be anything more. There was only one person he wanted anything more with, and that boy was currently stood beside him, stiff as a plank, face eerily devoid of emotion, toying with a wheel on his skateboard. But he couldn’t just tell Todd that he couldn’t have his number, that would be awkward on a thousand levels – equally he couldn’t say yes because it would be unfair to lead Todd on.

He did a quick toss-up between his two options and made his decision purely on what would embarrass him less.

“Sure,” he said quickly. Grinning, Todd handed him a post-it note and a pen and Alex scribbled down his phone number, handing it back to him. He gave a tight smile, then turned on his heel. “Okay. Come on, Willie, let’s go.”

Willie didn’t say anything, but Alex felt him fall into step beside him. Well, if it could be called ‘beside’ – Willie was arms’ length away, so far that Alex couldn’t have touched him if he reached out as far as he could. It was strange – usually they would walk so close that they bumped shoulders and almost always ended up hand in hand – but Alex shrugged it off and just walked himself closer to Willie. It only registered that something definitely wasn’t right when he saw Willie’s shoulders tense, and he ducked his head when Alex looked in his direction.

“Hey,” he said gently, slowing his steps and placing a soft hand at Willie’s elbow, stopping him too. “You okay?”

Willie avoided eye contact like it would kill him which was how Alex knew he was lying when he said, “I’m fine. Come on, let’s just get this over with.”

They walked through the museum, stood as close as they normally would, but this time it felt uncomfortable and invasive somehow. Alex couldn’t pinpoint when, but Willie’s chipper mood had dulled and he had turned sullen and sulky. He made several attempts to start a conversation, asking Willie about his day and the rest of his week, telling him his own stories, but he was met either with a disinterested hum or cold silence.

It felt so wrong. Where had Willie’s heart-stopping smile gone? His bright, unrestrained giggles? The spark in his eyes that glowed especially brightly here, in the museum? Where was he?

It went on for twenty minutes until Alex finally grew tired of it. When they were alone in a deserted room which housed only a picturesque oil painting, he stepped right in front of Willie so he had no choice but to look at him.

“What’s going on with you?” he said, trying not to let his frustration show. It ebbed away just slightly when he saw the stung expression on Willie’s face. “When we got here you were happy and excited like normal, what’s changed since we came in?”

“It’s nothing,��� Willie insisted. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It clearly does or you wouldn’t be this upset.”

“I’m not upset,” Willie protested, clearly lying, the waver in his voice betraying him.

“You are,” Alex said, taking a risk and planting his hands on Willie’s shoulders. “I know you, Willie, and this isn’t you.”

“You clearly don’t know me,” Willie snapped.

Alex’s hands dropped from Willie’s shoulders without him meaning to let go. Hurt, he took a step back. There was anger on Willie’s face now but Alex had no idea where it was coming from. Maybe Willie was right – this certainly wasn’t the version of him Alex knew.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked, weak.

Willie’s face worked for a moment and Alex could see the cogs in his head turning as he desperately searched for the right words to explain himself.

He gave a haggard sigh and said, “That guy was flirting with you, Alex! He has been for the past three months, as long as we’ve been coming here together!”

Alex didn’t see what that had to do with anything. Why would Todd flirting with him mean anything? But that was the path Willie had chosen to stray down, so Alex followed him.

“I’m sure he was just being friendly.”

Willie laughed mirthlessly. “Sure. Friendly. He’s been more than friendly with you ever since he first saw you.”

Alex shuffled uneasily. Maybe he hadn’t noticed at the time, but after Todd’s little display earlier a lot of his previous behaviour had made a lot more sense. Like the time he’d called Alex ‘possibly the most attractive guy I have ever seen’. Alex wasn’t sure now how he had dismissed that as friendly chitchat.

“Okay, fine, maybe he was flirting with me. So what?”

“You gave him your number!”

“Do you have a problem with that?”

“Yes,” Willie exclaimed.

Alex raised an eyebrow. He suddenly didn’t like where this conversation was going. “So I’m not allowed to have people flirt with me?”

Eyes widening, Willie seemed to realise how Alex had taken it and immediately started to backtrack. “No, that’s not– that came out wrong, I mean–”

“You know, at least he’s taking an interest in me,” Alex sneered. He still couldn’t understand where Willie’s initial burst of anger had come from, but now that he was riding high on his own he didn’t care to find out. “It’s more than you’ve done today, ignoring me like I’m some stranger to you. Go on then, if the problem isn’t that he was flirting with me then what is it? Are you angry because he wasn’t flirting with you? Do you like Todd?”

“No,” Willie groaned exasperatedly. He took a desperate step towards Alex, but he instinctively stepped back. He half regretted it when he saw Willie flinch at it, but the other half of him felt some sick satisfaction. “That’s not it. I don’t like Todd. It’s just— God, Alex, how can you tell when I’m upset and when Todd’s flirting with you but you can’t tell...”

Willie seemed to lose momentum, run out of battery. He wilted, looking down to the ground, and Alex had enough.

“What is your problem?” he yelled. He hadn’t meant to. In the empty room, his voice bounced off the walls, echoing around the pair of them. He heard the scorn in his own words and shattered. He sounded hateful – he never wanted to sound like that to Willie.

Willie stood there, silent, motionless. He looked like he would break if anything touched him, even as lightly as a butterfly. But then he swallowed thickly, blinked a few times (Alex prayed he wasn’t blinking tears from his eyes) and looked at Alex dead on.

“I’m going home,” he said, voice heavy. “I’m sorry.”

And without another word, he hurried out of the room, leaving a wide berth as he swerved around Alex and passed through the large double doors, out of sight.

*

That night, Alex lay in bed, unable to sleep. His mind, which usually wandered at night like it was out for a pleasant stroll, was stuck in one place like a broken record. All he could hear was his furious voice ricocheting off the museum’s walls, all he could see was Willie’s broken expression, all he felt was his own private kind of heartbreak.

He picked up his phone and opened up his chat with Willie. There was a long message that he’d written out waiting for him, he just hadn’t hit send. The words hadn’t felt right as he wrote them and they felt even worse as he read through them for what must have been the hundredth time. He erased the entire thing, left himself with a blank slate, but couldn’t find the words to fill it.

Instead of wasting time trying to locate words that didn’t want to be found, he turned his attention to Willie in another way. He opened up his camera roll and scrolled mindlessly through his photos. Some of them were photos of him, Julie, Reggie, and Luke. A lot of them were strange photos of things that Luke had sent to him, always captioned ‘this is you’. But a good third of all his photos were of him and Willie, or simply Willie by himself.

Him and Willie at the beach. Him and Willie on their trip to the farm. Him and Willie dressed up as an angel and devil on Halloween. Willie wearing a full suit of armour (Alex still didn’t know how Willie had got his hands on that). Willie behind Alex’s drums when Alex had unsuccessfully tried to teach him how to play. A selfie Willie had sent to him from A&E six months ago, his arm in a cast - it had been captioned ‘you can be the first to sign it’.

Their argument baffled Alex. He had no idea where any of it had come from. Until he came across one particular photo.

It wasn’t even of Alex and Willie, not really. It was focused on Reggie posing beside a statue like it was a real person. It had been taken when Alex, Willie, Reggie, Luke, and Julie had all spent a day in Hollywood as if they were tourists, trying to see everything for the first time, experiencing it all like it was brand new to them. There was a detail in the background however that caught Alex’s eye.

He zoomed in to see him and Willie sat together on a bench. Alex himself was looking at Reggie, laughing at his antics. He remembered it, specifically hoping that Julie wouldn’t accidentally get him in the photo when she took it. But next to Alex, Willie wasn’t looking at Reggie. His eyes were focused solely on Alex and on his face was the softest, most genuine smile he could have ever imagined. It was a smile he knew very well.

It was the same smile he wore himself whenever he was with Willie.

At that point, Alex realised two things. The first thing was that he was so completely and utterly in love with Willie that if he wasn’t careful it might actually have killed him and he had no idea how he hadn’t realised the extent of his feelings before. The second and more exciting thing was that if Alex’s suspicions were right then there was a chance Willie felt the same way. It was a terrifying thought, but the more he considered it the more sense it made.

That had been why Willie was so angry at Alex giving Todd his number. He didn’t dislike people flirting with Alex, and he didn’t like Todd and envy Alex for it. No, nothing of the sort. Willie was angry because he liked Alex.

Alex prayed he wasn’t misreading the situation. God only knew he was oblivious when it came to matters like this. Still, even though he had worked out what was going on, it left him wondering where he was supposed to go from here. What was he supposed to do? He still wanted to text Willie, reach out to him at long last, but their argument was still fresh in his mind and he wasn’t sure Willie would want to be contacted by him. Besides, he still had no idea what to say.

So he did nothing but lie in wait and eventually he fell into a fitful sleep.

*

Willie and Alex had a routine for Sundays as well. At midday, they would meet in the sand beneath the pier and simply be with each other. Sometimes they would just sit there and talk or rest in comfortable silence, sometimes they would stroll up and down the sand clasping each other’s hands, sometimes they’d chase each other across the beach and howl like excited children. Like the museum, Luke called these meet-ups dates, Reggie called them cute, Julie called them domestic, and now Alex could admit that maybe that’s what they were.

All he could do was hope that Willie would show up. They hadn’t spoken since the day before and Alex couldn’t be certain Willie would still want to see him today. Now he sat in the sand in the shade underneath the pier, watching the sea breathe as the waves rose and fell, swelling and drooping like a lazy heartbeat. The day was much warmer than the day before, the sun even brighter too.

He felt Willie drop into the sand beside him. Neither of them said a word. The only sounds were the crashing of the waves and footsteps above them from people walking up and down the pier.

“I wasn’t sure if you’d still come,” Alex ventured. It sounded lame. He wished he could have said something a little bit… more.

Willie shrugged. “It’s you. I’ll always come for you.”

It was such a typical thing for Willie to say, and so telling. Alex huffed a laugh, shaking his head fondly. He had no idea how he hadn’t clocked onto Willie’s feelings long before.

“What’s so funny?” Willie asked. There was a hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

“I’m an idiot,” Alex replied.

Another silence fell between them, lighter than before. Alex kept watching the sea, but found that his eyes kept straying in Willie’s direction. Willie was glancing around, watching gulls swoop through the sky, gazing at a dog that ran through the shallow water not far away, looking above at the wood of the pier above them. Alex watched as Willie’s fingers traced lazy, thoughtless patterns in the sand. The sand wasn’t wet so the patterns didn’t hold, grains cascading as soon as Willie’s fingers moved on, blurring whatever lines he made.

Alex didn’t think. He just took Willie’s hand. Willie, without so much as looking, linked their fingers together.

A beat passed. And another. The world faded to a haze of faded colours and dim white noise. Alex looked at Willie and Willie looked at Alex, and Alex couldn’t tell who moved first but a moment later they were kissing.

It was gentle but full of surety and care. Delicately deliberate. And it couldn’t have lasted more than five seconds before both pulled away. There was the tiniest of pauses and in unison both descended into giggles, clutching each other’s hands, foreheads pressed together.

It was everything Alex had ever imagined and so much more.

He couldn’t tell how long it was before they calmed down. Naturally, like it was all he was built to do, Willie leaned against Alex, his head on his shoulder, and took a deep, calm breath.

“I’m sorry about yesterday,” Alex said quietly. “I should have realised so much sooner.”

Willie laughed, merry but subdued. His long fingers started toying with the sand again – this time Alex was fairly sure that one of the patterns he drew was a heart. “Don’t apologise. It was both of us. We got there eventually, right?”

Alex chuckled, linking his fingers through Willie’s again. “Right. We got there in the end.”

And then, for no other reason than the fact that he could, he pressed a kiss to the top of Willie’s head.

“You missed,” Willie said, turning around. His eyes were glinting with something like mirth. Alex raised an eyebrow.

“I did?”

Willie nodded, placed a sand-covered hand on Alex’s cheek, and pulled him in for another kiss. Alex melted, his heart skipping a dozen beats at once, and realised once and for all that this thing he had with Willie definitely wasn’t just a friendship.

[honeytae]

hi it’s the anon from a few minutes ago! my request was artist taehyung or vante x reader! i think it’s cute and i haven’t seen a lot of writers really do many pieces on this au!

Did Monèt finger paint?

hi lovely anon! i’m SO sorry this took so long for me to write but each time i sat down to write this, it just didn’t flow right. this ended up just being a very simple and domestic artist! taehyung x reader piece..hopefully that’s okay!

tags: @ahgasearmyfan, @hoseokayy

genre: fluff

warnings: i’ve never written an au before please take it easy on me.

word count: 1.8k

At first, you didn’t know anyone was home at all.

It was silent, the embodiment of peace. The windows were open, the curtains freely flowing into your home carrying the fresh smell of blooming flowers and the sound of chirping birds; all the familiar signs of spring.

Your tired shuffling around the house was uninterrupted, place spotless as you’d left it for work this morning. That was, until you passed Taehyung’s art studio, quickly catching his figure hunched over one of his newest pieces out of the corner of your eye.

You smiled fondly at the sight, leaning against the doorframe silently so as not to disturb his work.

You easily associated the painting propped up on the easel in front of him as the same one he’d shown you two nights prior, although it had significantly fewer blank spaces now than it had then.

You’d come home late that night, sleepily stumbling across the hardwood floors as you searched your home for your boyfriend. You’d found him in his studio, of course, and barely gave him a proper greeting before you were plopping your tired body down into his lap, making him carefully set his brush down to tend to your exhausted form strewn across his thighs.

You had only seen a glimpse of it that night as Taehyung was standing you up to put you to bed, marveling at the strokes along the canvas as his eyebrows shot up in amusement at your sleepy reaction.

“That looks amazing, baby.” You had mumbled, letting your head drop onto his shoulder as he half carried you out of his work space.

“Thank you, honey. Do you even know what it is?” He poked fun at your squinted eyes, bleariness coating them as you shook your head with a sigh.

“Just know it’s amazing since you’re amazing.” You nuzzled further into his soft sweater, listening to the man’s deep chuckles as he brought you into your bedroom.

With the floor squeaking below you as you adjusted your stance, you gained Taehyung’s attention for the first time since your arrival as he suddenly glanced up from his work and shot you a grin.

“Hi, love.” He greeted you, briefly meeting your eyes before he shifted his attention back to the piece in front of him, determined to fill the white spaces yet to be perfected on the canvas.

“That’s really coming along.” You commented, watching the brush stroke along the paper with ease as Taehyung’s creative juices seemed to flow effortlessly from his brain to his hand, working diligently to get the idea down on paper before he lost it.

“Thank you.” He blushed a bit, always flustered by your praise, especially with his art. As he’d told you on many occasions, your opinion meant the most to him.

“Has anyone ever told you that you should be an artist?” You cocked your head teasingly, the man pausing his actions as he ducked his head in laughter, eyes closing and nose scrunching up adorably as his mouth stretched into a wide smile. Your favorite smile.

“No, actually. Kind of just a hobby more than anything.” He smirked, you playing along with his act as you gasped in response.

“Well, that’s just tragic. That hobby could really get you places.” You commented, Taehyung‘s mouth twisted in a flustered grin, eyes squinted at you before he gestured for you to come over to him.

Patting his thighs for you to sit down on his lap, he wrapped his arms around your torso to steady your body atop him, your legs draped over to one side, arms wrapped around his neck as he smiled at you.

“You’re a piece of work, you know that?”

“Hm, but you love me.”

“I do.” He mused, stamping a kiss to the side of your head with a grin before reaching his fingers out in front of you where the half-completed canvas was resting.

Gripping it in his hand, he carefully placed it beside you on the drying rack, producing a new canvas with a reach of his fingers and placing it on the easel with a squeeze to your hip with his unoccupied hand.

Humming, you turned your head to face him, blushing under his intense stare as he admired your features under his studio lights.

“What, weirdo?” You mumbled, causing Taehyung to laugh out loud, nodding to the blank canvas with a soft smile.

“I want to see you paint something.” He told you, a confused smile appearing on your face as you cocked your head at him, watching as he placed one of his paintbrushes between your fingers in the proper position.

You watched as he moved the palette of thick oil paints away, instead grabbing his basic water color set and placing it in front of you. Your body already felt less tense at the replacement of the expensive and more difficult paint, thankful that the limits of your comfort zone was something Taehyung always caught on to immediately.

“Honey, I can’t.” You said, your answer making Taehyung pout, sighing as he dipped down to plant kisses along your jawline.

“You can.” He soothed, gripping your hand and helping you dip the brush into the cup, dipping it in a bit of water before telling you to tap it on the side to get excess liquid out of the brush.

“Of course you can. Look,” he said, helping your hand hover over the palette of paints he’d set out, “what color are you feeling right now?” He asked, as if it was the most simple question in the world. As if he was asking you what the weather was today.

Over time, you’d gotten used to these random and sometimes absurd questions from the man, being intrigued by the first few you were faced with as you merely stared back at him for a moment, fumbling out an answer.

But now you were fully accustomed to these random questions, entirely endeared by the unique thoughts stored in his beautiful brain.

“Dark blue.” You responded, your boyfriend nodding once as he guided your hand to above the canvas.

“What pattern are you feeling right now?” He asked, setting his chin on your shoulder as he curiously peered up at you.

“I,” you paused, scrunching your eyebrows, “I don’t know how to answer that.” You admitted, Taehyung chuckling a bit before he leaned in to press a tender kiss to your pulse point.

“Like, when I’m angry or stressed, I feel dots. Just messily jabbed onto the canvas. Or when I’m calm, I feel stripes. Just gentle strokes of the brush.” He elaborated, you nodding a bit as you pondered his question.

“I want to feel like a kid again.” You sighed, the stresses of work swirling around your brain incessantly, fragmented memories of your more peaceful days heaving your chest with another deep exhale.

“Hm. Nostalgic?” He mused, you humming in response, frowning as he let go of your hand, grabbing the brush from you and placing it down on the table beside him.

Instead, he grabbed the palette, holding it up in front of you with a grin.

“No brushes. Just hands.” He explained, you turning your face to look at him, leaning down to press your lips to his in an appreciative gesture.

“I love you.”

“I love you too. Now c’mon, let me see my little protégé in action.” He pinched at your hip, chuckling when you squealed and squirmed atop him, steadying your waist with a grin.

Taking the brush back into his grip, Taehyung easily coated the pad of your index finger in the blue paint, giggling when you did as the bristles tickled your skin.

When your fingertip was completely blue, you hesitantly lifted your hand to the canvas, faltering a bit when it got too close to the pristine white.

“It’s not going to bite, love.” He soothed with a smirk, causing you to scoff as you looked back at him.

“I just don’t want to ruin one of your potential art pieces. These are expensive.” You gestured to the canvas, Taehyung rolling his eyes as he took your hand in his.

“You’re so silly sometimes.” He chided, guiding your hand back to the canvas and forcing you to press your blue finger against it.

Lifting it, he guided it over and up a few inches, repeating the action several times until the page was dotted with blue fingerprints.

“Fun, right?” He said, pressing his lips to your shoulder before setting his chin there, releasing your hand to let you do as you wanted.

“Hm,” you hummed your confirmation, “but I want you to do it with me.” You said, Taehyung smiling before grabbing the palette, offering it out in front of you again as he peered at your face, studying your features with his big brown orbs.

“What color?”

“Purple.” You answered, spying the dark purple color toward the edge of the dirtied palette, your boyfriend nodding once before you were taking the liberty of painting his pointer finger purple, a fond smile on Taehyung’s face as he watched you do so.

Dotting your fingers along the page, you found yourself easing up as you giggled at the man’s large fingerprint in comparison to yours, all tension from the day draining out of your body by simply being with Taehyung.

It’s not that he didn’t notice your shift in mood from this morning, or the bags under your eyes. He took mental note of every cue your body gave to him.

And you would definitely open up and talk it out later, you both knew he wouldn’t let you go on bottling it up. But right now, he was focusing on making you smile, the light crinkles next to your eyes letting him know he was doing his job.

And the piece in front of you was his favorite he’d ever laid eyes on, the canvas filled with smudges from both of your fingerpads and his heart filled with overwhelming love for you.

“You could be the next Monèt.” He spoke from behind you, causing you to scoff as you turned to meet his enthusiastic smile.

“Did Monèt finger paint?” You asked teasingly, eyebrows raised as Taehyung began to nod.

“Oh yeah, all the time. His best work.” He said, causing you to slap your palm over your mouth as you threw your head back in laughter, the man’s eyes twinkling at the sound.

“You’re ridiculous.” You said, lips twitching a bit before you recovered, shaking your head in mock disappointment at the man’s words.

“What? I’m serious!” He widened his eyes comically, face falling into a wide smile when you laughed again, throwing your head back on his chest as he wrapped his arms tighter around your frame to squeeze you to him.

“Let’s hang it in the living room so everyone can see it.” He beamed, both of you eyeing it adoringly as you saw the other’s work put into it, a joint effort that, although a bit of a chaotic mess, depicted your relationship perfectly.

“Out of all the pieces you could possibly hang in our living room for everyone to see, this is the one you choose?” You raised your eyebrows at him, the man nodding immediately in response as a smile spread his lips.

“Absolutely.”

[dnarez]

Chapter 1 - Welcome to your new home

"Miss and mister, we are here"

The car drive was full of silence, the small child by the window watching the city pass by and his mother on the other one.

Everything was happening so fast, the winged boy had saved a few people from the car crash by instincts, then here he was now.

Going to live a better life and grown into a hero, just like his favorite hero.

The small boy smiled to the plushie, but was woken up from his daydreaming by his mother's voice.

"We don't have all day" her words were slurred.

The blond boy got up and got out from the tall car, which he fell face first on the floor since it was too high.

"Are you ok?" The driver asked.

Keigo got up and nodded, rubbing his face.

"Follow me" the driver took them to a big apartment, that could fit his old house entirely.  "Welcome to your new home, someone will come and give you two instructions, just wait in the living room".

Keigo couldn't believe how big this house was, he was starting to get excited about all of this.

His mother went to the couch and sat there while he was exploring the living room a bit.

As he reached for the snow glob he heard his mother scouting voice "Don't you dare break anything"

He looked at her, then looked back to the globe, but decided against it, walking to the couch and sat close to his mother.

"Who do you think they are going to put here with us?" He tilted his head to look at her

"Don't know, don't care, but probably someone old that can keep you in line" she said not even looking at him.

He frowned at that 'it will be boring if they do that...'

After some time in silence they heard the front door opening then some footsteps.

The living room door was open by a beautiful lady, she was really tall, her long (h/c) hair was in a high ponytail, shiny (e/c) eyes, and a small smile on her lips, dressed just like a business person.

She stops in front of them "Hello, and welcome to your new home, I will be the one to take care of it, and of you" she looked at Keigo, he blushed and looked away

She giggles 'cute kid'

"My name is Y/n, I'm 18 years old, anything you two wish for you can ask me" Y/n examine both of them a d notice the ragged clothes "I suspect that you both need a bath, please follow me and I will take each of you to your room"

They both get up "I want a room far from his" if Y/n was disturbed by that request or not, it wasn't noticeable, for she was one of the best of the best assistants on the commission.

"As you wish ma'am" Y/n bowed and started walking with them following her.

The first room she took them was for the boy of course, there was a very big bed,  and a wardrobe, the room was fully white and very empty, on the right wall there was a door that probably would lead to the bathroom.

"I know it's very empty, but you can request anything for me to put on it, from wall paint, to furniture, just ask me and I will bring it to you" the pretty lady pushed lightly the boy to the room.

He looked back at her and nodded showing that he understood.

"I will take care of your mother and will be right back to help you to take a bath" she bowed again and got out of the room leaving Keigo alone in it.

The boy looked inside the wardrobe and saw a lot of children clothes, they are probably for him.

The big white bed looked extremely comfortable, so he decided to try it.

As the small boy got up on the bed, he saw how bouncy it was and started to jump on it.

'This... this is fun!' With a big smile on his face and his loyal plushie in hands he started giggling and flapping his wings, while jumping.

He stopped when he heard a gasp from the door.

The lady from before was there looking shocked

"I-I... I'm sorry, I-I didn't mean- I only wanted-" Keigo stared at her as she walked to him "I was playing and-" she raised her hand, with fear of being hit Keigo closed his eyes and hugged his plushie tightly.

But instead of a hit he got a pet on the head, he opened his eyes surprised and looked at her.

"I'm sorry, it must have been boring waiting for me, but don't worry, I will make sure you have something to do next time" she smiled at him, her hand dropped at her side. "You are really dirty, let's take a bath, okay?"

He nodded still shocked that she apologized even if she didn't do anything wrong.

Y/n walks to the wardrobe and takes some clothes for him. "Please follow me" she walks to the bathroom.

When he got inside he was mesmerized by the size of it. "All of this is for me?" He looked at her confused "but I am small!"

Y/n giggle at that "But you will grow up, so we need to make accommodations on the long term of things" she goes to the bathtub and turn it on.

"While the tub is filling, please take of tour clothes, or do you need help?"

"I can do it" he looked around for a place to put his plushie.

"Would you like for me to hold it?" She showed him her hand "I can take care of it while you bathe"

He looked hesitant and shook his head.

"If you prefer we can let it by the sink, that way you can still see it"

Keigo nodded and gave the plushie to her, and watched her put it by the sink.

He took his clothes off and looked at it confused to what to do with them.

"Please give it to me, I will throw it away" he gave it to her, she turned off the bath while it was a little less the half of it "do you need something?"

"I can't get in... I need help" he looked down to the floor hesitant to ask for help.

"Everyone needs help sometimes, there is no need to be hesitant young master" she walks to him and take the naked boy on her arms "I won't take long" she walked out with his old clothes in hand.

"She is nice..." he looked at his hands and then at his wings "Am I that impressive?" Keigo huffed and started to bathe.

Y/n was back after a short while with some products in hand.

Keigo looked curiously at the bottles.

"These are for your wings, mutant quirks have special needs, you need to learn how to take care of your body, but since you are still a child I will help you." She sat on her knees "please turn around"

He did as told, then he felt two warm and oily hands massaging his back.

The silence was nerve raking, so he decided to ask "Why do you work for them?"

"The commission?"

Keigo nods

"Because just like you, they saw potential in me and helped me grow into who I am now" she started to carefully pass oil in each one of his feathers, on his right wing.

"They are good people?" He looked back at her.

"Hmm... that's a hard question... I prefer to call them parasites"

"But they helped you! And- and they are helping me..." he looked back at his hands

"Yes, but everything in life has its price, but don't worry too much about it, you don't have much choice right now" Y/n finished one wing and went to do the same on the other.

The unpleasant silence was back, but this time she was the one that broke it.

"You like Endevour? That's kind of uncommon"

"Really? Why? He's a hero isn't he?" Keigo tilted his head.

"He is, but he also looks scary, but... let me tell you a secret"

Keigo looked at her with shiny eyes "a secret?"

"Yes, can I trust you? It's one of my most precious secrets"

"I promise!"

She got close to his ear and whisperer "I like him too"

He gasped and looked at her with stars in his eyes. "REALLY?? WHY??"

"Shhh! Not so loud!" She giggles at his reaction "He was the one that saved me when I was small"

"Just like me and my mom!" His wings fluffed up

"Yes, that is one of the reasons that they choose me to take care of you young master"

Keigo had a big smile on his face "what's the other reason?"

"I will tell you when you grow up, now please stop moving"

"Do you promise?"

"Hu?"

"You promise that one day you will tell me?" He looked serious at her.

Looking at his golden eyes, she raised her pinky "I promise"

He grabbed her pinky with his and smiled.

"There now let's finish with washing you hai-"

Her pagers started to go off.

"Your mother called for me, I will be right back, please finish soaping yourself" she gave him a sponge with liquid soap in it.

He nodded and took it from her.

Y/n went to the boys mother, when she got there the mother was on a bathrobe looking to throw out the clothes.

"What do you wish for ma'am?"

"I'm hungry, go make me dinner" she said not even looking at the lady.

"I will start to make dinner as soon as I finished cleaning and changing the boy, anything else ma'am?" Y/n said with her head high.

"Just leave him alone, he can take care of himself, do as I ordered you" Keigo's mom snapped back looking at the lady.

"Ma'am I will tell this one time, and only one time" Y/n's gaze was cold, empty of any emotion as she steps closer. "I do not serve YOU I serve the young master, and ONLY the young master, I am one of the best assistants that the commission has, please keep in mind that even if I look like a little bug ready to be stepped on..." now she was face to face with the other woman "I still am a woman that was made into a caretaker to a future top pro hero" her eyes went from (e/c) to black, her aura was frightening "If I can stop your son then I can stop you, twice as easily."

Y/n raised a finger, and pointed it to the wall that was behind Keigo's mother, her finger made a medium straight line, then her eyes went back to normal as she stepped back.

"If that is all I will be taking my leave, young master is waiting for me" Y/n bowed to her and went to help Keigo.

As the mother turned around her face paled and her body petrified, the wall behind her was a big and deep cut exactly where Y/n had made the straight line.

. . . . . . . . . . . . ..................

Yoh, I'm back, and I thought about this before I went to sleep with a terrible headache, but since I knew I would totally forget about it in the morning I went ahead and wrote 400 words before I fell asleep from my headache.

I will keep writing the other one too, but this one is more of a brain fart than anything else.

Also, spoilers for BNHA

[yolo1650]

Animal Crossing One Shot- Ten Star Rating (BobxReader)

Summary: Getting that perfect island turns out to be a lot harder than it looks.

Word Count: 1498

Warnings: No warnings here, it’s basically rated G, just two cute people, being cute together

——————————————————————————

Feeling nothing but a heavy sense of defeat, you closed the doors of the Resident Service building behind you. With the sun still high in the sky, there was still many hours of daylight left, precious hours that could be spend planting, refurnishing, terra-forming.  

But all you could feel was the aching in your legs, clearly overworked by all the running around you did this morning. They couldn’t help but buckle beneath you. Giving in, you sat down at the center of the plaza, face in your palms, as you remembered Isabelle's advice.  

"Let's get more greenery on this island by planting fruit and saplings. When it comes to tree varieties, we should really branch out!"

Your jaw clenched. While Isabelle's corny joke came from a kind-hearted place, it did nothing to cheer you up from your predicament.  

Last time it was too many trees, and too little flowers. Now that I've spent the whole morning planting more flowers, you're telling me there's not enough trees?

At this rate, you many never get your island to a five star rating.  

Then, you heard someone yelling, their voice getting louder as they got closer to you.  

"Heeeeeeeyyyyyyyy!"

You felt Bob's shadow cast over you, giving you momentary relief from the afternoon sun.  

"Hey Bob."

His shadow moved, and with it, his footsteps as its pattering sounds circled around you. Even with your eyes covered, you could still vividly see Bob's wide, carefree smile, and his arms outstretched like an airplane.  

"The island looks great today! On my way here I stopped like, five times to smell all of the pretty flowers! Or was it more like three times? I kind of stopped counting after two, pthhpth."

Taking your face out of your hands, you leaned your cheek against one of your palms and did nothing to mask your exhaustion and disappointment.  

"Still not good enough to get a good island rating though."

Bob stilled. Taking quick glances between you and the Resident Service building, he began to understand.  

"Oh."

After taking a seat next to you, you look over to his uncharacteristically somber face.  

"I'm sorry to hear that."

Great now you messed up his groove. One of the happiest, most carefree villager is sulking because of you. Maybe it was better if you just got up and left, you should have never left your house in the first place.  

But Bob beat you to it. Standing up with what seems to be renewed energy, he ran back to his house. You didn't have to wait long before hearing your name being shouted in the distance, its volume gradually increasing.  When Bob came back his typical ear-to-ear smile was as well. He was also holding onto a medium sized canvas. With outstretched arms, he presented it exclaiming,

"Here! I gotta lil' something for ya!"

After getting up and dusting off your pants, you took the unexpected gift from his hands. Your eyebrows were raised high in astonishment. Pleased at your reaction, Bob shyly looked away while rubbing the back of his neck.  

"But it's probably nothing compared to what you've done for the island so far."

As you examined the painting you weren't sure how to feel about it at first. Anyone back at your hometown would recognize immediately that this gift was clearly not your style. While you preferred romantic style oil paintings, the piece before you had to be best described as the work of a child. Abstract and sloppy, no distinct line art, and distinct brush strokes. That last part was the most peculiar to you. Did he use cotton balls to paint this?

You took a step back and looked at the piece again as a whole. Once you did, you felt a smile creep up on your face. This painting was clearly made with you in mind, as not only were you the subject, but you were surrounded by all of the things you loved on this island. The foreground was adorned with your favorite flowers, the background was the island's serene coast, and you were wearing your favorite outfit.

The colors were the most impressive, in your opinion. They were so spot on that just looking at it alone made you feel like you were right there, hearing the crashing waves. He even got your eye color at just the right shade, and remembered to add your dimples to your smile.  

You found it difficult to contain your excitement.  

"Wow! Bob, this is amazing! And you painted it? I didn't know you liked to paint!"

"Hmmm? Oh yeah, I like to do all sorts of drawing." Lost in thought, he started leaning back and forth between the balls of his feet and his heels. "But I especially looooooove finger painting! It's like ya got super powers 'cause everything you touch changes color!"

You chuckled. Paw prints, that explained the strange brush strokes.  

"How'd you know my favorite spot on the island was the beach?" You asked.

Bob simply shrugged as he replied, "You're just there so often, I sorta figured it was like, your natural habitat or something, pthhpth."

"What about my clothes?"

He looked away briefly before clearing his throat to answer. "I, uh, always thought you looked the prettiest when you wore those." He couldn't help but blush a little. "Just 'cause you always smiled more when you wore those."  

You then felt your own face heat up.  

"A-and what about the flowers? How'd you know these were my favorite?"

"Oh, those? You were always buying those from Lief every time he comes over." His eyes glanced up in thought as he continued.  

"At first I was thinking what made these flowers so special? You already had so many different flowers in your own garden. So then I bought a pot of my own, and boy do they smell deeelicious! They reminded me so much of you so of course I had to put it here, pthhpth!"

You tried to give a polite smile to match Bob's beaming face. But you weren't too sure how to take that compliment, if it even was one. Was he saying you were like a snack? Does he snack on flowers?

You decided not to dwell on it too much.  

Now when you looked back at the painting, it was as if it completely transformed before your eyes during the short length of your conversation with Bob. What was once sloppy, thick brush strokes were now intentional, and authentic. What was once meaningless shapes of abstraction have now turned into a thoughtful presentation of who you were in the mind of Bob.  

It was all so touching, you might have started tearing up a little.  

You tightly wrapped your arms around Bob.  

"Thank you. You have no idea how much I needed this right now."

He eagerly hugged you back.  

"Like I said, it's nothing." His lips curled into a bashful smile.  

Releasing each other from your embrace, you were surprised to see that somber expression return to his face. His brows furrowed in frustration.  

"I don't know who's judging these islands, but if I were them, I'd give you a ten star rating just because you worked so hard on it!"

You didn't have the heart to tell him that island ratings only went up to five.  

Bob continued on. Pride and determination lighting his eyes as he placed his paws on his hips.  

"I might even throw in a prize, like a day off, or a life-time supply of brownies!" A nervous chuckle bubbled out of him as he rubbed the back of his neck. "Uh, actually, that last part might be more of a prize for me than for you."

Now that he mentions it, you really do deserve a day-off, heck, maybe even a week-off. You put so much work into this island, it was only natural that you needed a break to regain your strength. Then, you'll be sure to get that five star rating!

You grabbed Bob's paw and headed towards the direction to your house.  

"It's been a while since we hanged out, huh? Well then let's go to my place for lunch," you said.  

"Really?!" Now it was Bob's turn to look surprised. Free food always got him excited.  

"Yeah!" You smiled. "Think of it as thanks for the painting."

"Sounds great!" Bob had already skipped on ahead of you, his face radiant. "Race ya!"

"Wait, Bob! My legs are still killing me from this morning, can you-"

Too late. With arms outstretched, Bob zig-zagged his way towards your house, already leagues ahead of you. For a guy who was always hungry, he sure did have boundless amounts of energy.  

You shook your head to yourself and smiled. Taking one last look at your painting before trudging along, you were already thinking of how to best frame it. You loved how brilliant it looked in the natural light. A nice spot by the window would be perfect.  

——————————————————————————

This was requested by @teagibs I hope you like it! Sorry it took so long :’-)

Please bear in mind that I’m still in school, so if anyone else has made a request, or would like to request something, it might be a while. I will also be doing requests in the order they come in. 

On another note, this was a lot of fun! Bob is one of my favorites, so I hope I did him justice. I currently have another one shot in the works (not a request), and ya’ll better brace yourself, cause it’s gonna be a dooozy...

Let me know what you guys think, constructive criticism is especially welcome here :D

-(･ω･)v

[artificialqueens]

Donatella (Taywhora) - Holtzmanns

read on ao3 | word count: 2924

George’s hand lingers on Tayce’s shoulder for a millisecond too long once he’s done adjusting his outfit, before he lets it drop to the side. There’s a tiny hint of disappointment that swirls in his chest upon the realization that he has to move on to another model, because the show is about to start any minute, and the last thing he wants to do is piss off the show director, who already has a vein throbbing along her forehead as she yells at the poor man fiddling with the lighting fixtures-

“Hey. Go ahead. I won’t take it personal,” Tayce murmurs, and the twinkle in his eyes lets George know that he’s absolutely taking the piss.

Nonetheless, he’s powerless to stop the upward curve of his own lips. “No?”

“Maybe a little.”

He swears he sees Tayce wink, but maybe that’s just the brightness of the fluorescents overhead.

A/N: Hi, I'm still alive, I swear. Life has been fun and also full to the brim of changes, though I'm trying my best to get back into the groove of writing again. Next chapter of vampire fic (and maybe level up) to be revisited soon for sure. In the meantime, enjoy this short and sweet oneshot and let me know what you think! Thank you Writ for betaing 💖

The final day of London Fashion Week tends to feel like the culmination of a week-long bender.

It sort of is, if the thin white lines of powder on blatant display on the dressing room tables are any indication. Not that George has gone near them, not today. Not when tonight’s the Versace show and he’s cut most of these garments and helped to sew at least two of them, and they’re going to be out on the runway in half an hour’s time. Grunt work is the opposite of glamorous when he’s hunched over a sewing machine at two in the morning, but it’s worth it at times like this, when he’s about to show his work with fucking Versace.

Well, not George’s own designs. Not yet. But he has to start somewhere, doesn’t he?

George tries not to wrinkle his nose when the model whose dress he’s pinning lights up a cigarette in between her fingers. Backstage at Fashion Week is never too strict when it comes to smoking, because hell, the big names would throw a fit. It does raise George’s blood pressure just a tad, though, when the ash that the model taps off of her cigarette falls just a little too close to the dress.

He refuses to have his creations ruined by accidental ignition.

It’s almost a relief from George to step away from her, moving onto the model beside her who’s not smoking, thank the heavens, except-

“I remember you!”

Oh, no.

Tayce, at least that’s what George thinks his name is, remains as gorgeous as he was during his fittings a few weeks back. Enough to make George’s carefully planned comebacks fall to the wayside, leaving his lungs empty because of the sharpness of Tayce’s jawline and the sparkle in his eyes. There’s something about Tayce that dries up any remnants of confidence swirling around in George’s system, enough so that he turns into a bloody schoolgirl with a crush.

Not that he has one. He’s at work, for God’s sake.

“I remember you too. Funny how memory works, isn’t it?”

Shy George can sometimes get snarky. Not in a mean way, though. He hopes.

Luckily, Tayce doesn’t seem very bothered. In fact, his smile grows bigger as George kneels down, fiddling with the sides of the trousers he’s got on for the show. The blue fabric isn’t falling quite right, but maybe George can take them in a smidge with a few pins so that they’re more streamlined-

“You’re cute when you’re focused with a handful of pins in your mouth,” Tayce’s wry voice distracts George from the fabric in his hands, and he nearly nicks himself in the process.

He curses internally, not only because of the poke on his finger but also because he probably looks right clumsy in front of Tayce. Model Tayce who knows he’s the shit, if the way he stomps down the runway is any indication, the very one who has an amused look on his face due to George’s internal turmoil.

“Are you trying to make yourself late for the runway?” George asks, but he can’t be stern the way he wants to, not when Tayce is so ridiculously charming and looking at him like he’s a challenge he wants to solve.

Tayce lets out a scoff. “Please. We both know these shindigs never start on time. My afternoon show was forty five minutes late and I wasn’t even the last one to show up.”

George snorts as he gathers the fabric once more. “Oh right, you were second last, weren’t you?”

“The cheek!” Tayce exclaims, crossing his arms, and George only has to shoot eyes in his direction for him to return to his original position, enough so that the fabric falls properly. “I’m on time, everyone else is simply early. Isn’t that the saying?”

George pauses. “Isn’t that from The Princess Diaries ?”

“So what?” Tayce shrugs. “I may have watched that movie but you have too, right? Recognized it and all.”

“Course I did. You don’t take me for someone with shit taste in movies, do you?” George asks as he gets back to his feet, scanning his gaze down Tayce’s torso to make sure his shirt is falling properly, nothing more.

He can feel Tayce’s gaze on him in return and it almost wants to keep him from looking up, because if he does then Tayce is surely going to notice when his cheeks inevitably redden.

Better to focus. Since he’s at work and all.

George barely taps on Tayce’s shoulder, a cue for him to turn around and Tayce readily does so without question, pushing his shoulders back. It’s as if Tayce already knows what George is looking for, anticipating his moves before he has the chance to make them clear. Nothing different from what Tayce would do with any other stylist responsible for checking his garments before a show, but it still feels as if Tayce is paying attention. Noticing George’s little routine.

It’s enough to make his heart beat just a little bit faster.

George’s hand lingers on Tayce’s shoulder for a millisecond too long once he’s done adjusting his outfit, before he lets it drop to the side. There’s a tiny hint of disappointment that swirls in his chest upon the realization that he has to move on to another model, because the show is about to start any minute, and the last thing he wants to do is piss off the show director, who already has a vein throbbing along her forehead as she yells at the poor man fiddling with the lighting fixtures-

“Hey. Go ahead. I won’t take it personal,” Tayce murmurs, and the twinkle in his eyes lets George know that he’s absolutely taking the piss.

Nonetheless, he’s powerless to stop the upward curve of his own lips. “No?”

“Maybe a little.”

He swears he sees Tayce wink, but maybe that’s just the brightness of the fluorescents overhead.

George can feel Tayce’s eyes on him as he moves on to the next few models, taking a fraction of the time because really, they don’t need that detailed of a onceover. It’s all for the best because the crowd is quieting on the other side of the curtains and the lights are bright enough to make George squint, even while backstage, as the line of models head out one after another.

Being in the audience for a show is night and day from actually working backstage - it’s as if the curtains dull all of the yelling, the quick-changes, the utter chaos that threatens to spill out onto the stage itself. Once the show starts George runs back and forth, darting between models to help them into their next looks, the rich colours draped along their figures looking straight out of an oil painting, one that he’s lucky to have helped to create. He almost doesn’t notice when he reaches Tayce once more, too caught up with the blueprints of all of the looks in his head until he feels a flick against his shoulder.

“Mighty brave, tugging on my clothes before even saying hello,” Tayce grins, somehow cool as a cucumber while shimmying into the blazer that George holds out for him, the patterns on the sleeves catching in the light.

George has to ignore the slight stammer that catches his tongue, hoping the chaos of the show is enough that Tayce doesn’t either. “I don’t see you complaining about it.”

“Who says I’m complaining?” Tayce throws back, holding George’s gaze before tilting his head to the side, “you’re better than old Muriel over there.”

George has to hold in a laugh as he follows Tayce’s gaze. The older stylist he’s pointing to has been on the scene for decades upon decades, working with the likes of Kate Moss and Naomi Campbell, and someone George could really learn from, though he’s learned to keep his distance. Probably for the best, because as George watches, she barks at the model whose dress she’s adjusting and passes her the sandwich in her grip so that she can use both of her hands for the job.

Tayce makes a face. “So pushy. And I swear, she wears the same perfume as my nan. Can’t forget the scent of Guerlain Shalimar.”

“Muriel’s bringing back those memories, then?” George asks, snorting when Tayce lets out a shudder.

“Just imagine Muriel as your nan. She wouldn’t feed you Sunday roast until she’d gotten you in cute little outfits with lace and petticoats, all the while threatening to put out her cigarette on your arm if you moved even a centimetre.”

“What an upbringing,” George whistles as he gives Tayce a onceover. “There. Good to go. Back to your place in line, then.”

Tayce blows a kiss, and George swears it’s for the sole purpose of making his face flush beet red, if Tayce’s delighted snicker as he walks away is any indication.

George finds himself peeking over at the curtains leading to the edge of the runway more than once as he’s running around backstage between the clothing racks and all the models, travel sewing kit in hand. Maybe it’s a bit pathetic to keep a constant eye out for Tayce every time he steps off the runway, but George can’t help it. Not when Tayce manages to catch his eye right back every single time.

Tayce sidles up to George once the show’s over and he’s packing up the clothes for travel, taking extra care of the ones he’s helped to put together. No matter how many collections he’s participated in, endless hours of painstaking work, it somehow still feels special. The excitement of it all hasn’t quite worn off just yet. George reaches for a garment bag but Tayce plucks it from the rack before he can, unzipping it so that George can stuff in the dress that’s currently draped across his arms.

Tayce grabs another bag and does the same thing, and it makes George pause for a second, look over towards him. “Don’t you have the afterparty to go to?”

George remembers his first Fashion Week back when he was a student, when the afterparties were glitz and glam and miles away from the clubs near Worksop. All the celebrities and the models and the designers that he would try to network with while they were drunk off their tits, so it would never get too far, anyway. Still, though, it felt almost thrilling.

Now, though, it feels like the novelty has worn off. The seventy-hour work week that is required during London Fashion Week, combined with very little sleep, means that the first thing George wants to do after helping with the pack up is go back to his flat and crash.

“I came here to ask you the same thing,” Tayce counters, rocking on his feet and not looking tired in the least.

George, though, shakes his head. “Me? Nah. I’m knackered.”

“Oh, c’mon,” Tayce gives him a look. “It’s the last day. What else are you up to tomorrow, anyway? You can sleep in, can’t you?”

“I can also sleep now,” George shrugs, and the dramatic sigh that Tayce lets out makes him grin.

It’s sort of nice to feel wanted, almost.

And so George acquiesces, because the possibility of spending more time with Tayce, with Tayce even wanting to spend time with him, is enough to set off a current in his veins and wake him up despite the late hour. “Fine. I’ll only come for a little bit, though. Then it’s bedtime for me.”

The triumphant yell out of Tayce’s mouth makes it worth it, even as Muriel shoots them a dirty look.

Sleep is overrated, George has decided.

It doesn’t come close to the alternative, his current reality where Tayce is tipping back a shot as the chains around his neck catch on the pulsing lights overhead. It’s Tayce’s second one in a row without so much as a wince, and maybe it’s because the bar has watered down the drinks the closer the clock gets to midnight, but it’s hard for George to look away nonetheless.

Tayce doesn’t call him out on it but instead grabs his hand with a glint in his eye, as if the attention is pure energy that charges his system. George swears he feels the electricity through their connected palms.

The way Tayce dances parallels his runway walk - he’s determined with his movements while simultaneously the mirror image of a gazelle getting used to its long limbs as he throws his arms up. Not that it’s a bad look on Tayce, not in the least. Maybe it’s Tayce’s confidence, or maybe it’s just the way George has fallen in too deep, but it works on him.

Tayce tugs on the corner of his shirt before he spins in place, his yell barely audible over the music. “Dance floors aren’t made for standing like a statue. C’mon, then.”

George can accept the fact that Tayce won’t remember tonight with his inevitable hangover tomorrow anyway, while simultaneously wanting to keep himself from looking like an idiot. “I don’t dance.”

“Sure you do,” Tayce chirps, lifting their intertwined hands as if they’re ballroom partners, but pauses when George lets out a squeak. “Wait. Babe, you’re stiffer than Dua Lipa attempting an eight count.”

“I told you!” George huffs, but the embarrassment he expects to feel doesn’t heat his cheeks up, because Tayce is too busy flinging his own limbs around in some sort of interpretation of the music.

It’s almost refreshing, the way Tayce doesn’t seem to care about what other people think, how he almost feeds off of the attention because none of it is ever negative. Even if it was, George isn’t sure that Tayce would ever let any of it tear him down, because he seems more the type to let it roll off of him without so much as a glance over.

It’s not until the remix overhead blends in some Gaga that George feels inclined to sing along, move his hips and his arms a little more because he’s self conscious, yes, but he also has an appreciation for the finer artists in life. He doesn’t miss the way Tayce’s face lights up, the whoop he lets out audible over the music before he grabs both of George’s hands once more as he dances.

“Atta boy!”

George wants to swear that the crowdedness of the dance floor is responsible for how close he’s getting to Tayce, because he doesn’t remember taking a step but Tayce is close enough that George can see the glitter on his cheekbones, the one hair curl swooping onto his forehead. It has to be the crowd that’s pushing them together for sure, enough that Tayce’s fingers are trailing down his biceps and along his waist and grabbing onto his belt loops to tug him in closer.

George lifts his eyebrows up in question, ignoring the way his heart is pounding and the racing thoughts in his head, because if he focuses too much on them he’s going to lose his mind. So instead he watches the way Tayce nods, biting his lip and the subtle waft of cologne that hits him when Tayce wraps his arms around his neck makes his eyes flutter.

Tayce kisses the same way that he moves on the dance floor - unabashed, taking, enough to leave George breathless and gasping, but who needs to come up for air when Tayce invades all of his senses so deliciously? George rakes his nails along the silk on Tayce’s back, and Tayce’s hiss against his mouth is intoxicating, muddying his thoughts more so than the alcohol flowing through his veins.

Tayce’s eyes are unfocused, dazed when they pull apart and it’s the first time George has seen him look anything less than in control. “Fucking hell.”

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” George can’t help the way his pitch rises in concern as he nearly has to yell over the music, because what if Tayce is more disgusted than anything-

“You idiot,” Tayce snorts, pulling him closer again with a hand on his waist, and George can feel the smile on his lips when they kiss. “What do you think?”

“Just checking,” George mumbles sheepishly, though the chagrin fades when Tayce pulls their hips up against each other and he can feel… oh.

A good thing, then.

“Happy end to Fashion Week, indeed,” George gets out, leaning in closer to Tayce, but it’s short lived when Tayce pulls back, and George has to stop himself from pouting.

Tayce looks entirely too gleeful as his fingers gather in the hair on the nape of George’s neck. “Shall we end it with a bang, then?”

“Oh my god,” George mutters, shaking his head, and it only exacerbates Tayce’s snickering. “Is that really how you get others into bed with you?”

“Is it working?” Tayce asks, and George pauses, his eyes catching on the curve of Tayce’s eyebrow, the sheen of his skin.

As if his answer would be anything else.

So George intertwines their hands, gives a little tug to pull them off of the dance floor, and snorts when Tayce lets out a whoop. Tayce is ridiculous yet somehow suave and hot all at once, a puzzle  that George hasn’t quite solved.

Though with their fingers linked as they head out the back door of the club, George is looking forward to getting the chance to do so.

[allie1804-fan]

Kerensa

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Parting Is such sweet sorrow

There was just over a week before Keanu was due to head home. He was browsing in the Round House Gallery on the Harbour front for gifts to take home - he’d already bought an oil painting of Tresco from there for himself, arranging for it to be shipped home.

At the counter, a flyer advertising a production of “Romeo and Juliet” being staged at the Minack theatre caught his eye – The Minack is a famed open air theatre carved into the dramatic clifftop above Porth Curno. He took a flyer back to the cottage and showed it to Kerry suggesting they get tickets.

The night arrived and, at her suggestion based on previous experience, they took a couple of cushions to sit on and a rug for their knees to guard against the cold as night fell. The weather is mild in Cornwall but it was still only late May and temperatures would drop as it’s still cool at night.

Before the start, they bought some hot Cornish pasties and a bottle of red to share. The wine came with little re-usable cups with a cute image of the theatre printed on them that they could take home afterward as a keepsake. With pasties eaten, it was time for the rug which Kerry tucked around them both and they settled down, knees pressed together, to enjoy the show. During the show, Kerry could see Keanu silently mouthing some of the lines, especially Mercutio’s - he explained during the interval that it had been one of his earliest roles, aged at 21 for the Leah Posluns Theatre in Ontario.

The show ended to rapturous applause under the spotlights and with the moonlight sparkling on the sea below it was really a breath-taking spectacle.

They lingered a little in their seats while the crowd made its way up the steps to the exit. When it had cleared a little Keanu suggested they take in the beach before heading back to Sennen. They had a little time before their taxi came which they’d booked knowing they’d be having a drink and that the Cornish roads at night did not favour a driver with even just one drink inside them!

They stood on the sand, gazing up at the cliffs and stars - Kerry was tilting her head back so much she nearly lost her balance! You could see the main constellations really clearly and it was fun to name them. Keanu was enthralled by her wonderment - she looked so beautiful gazing up at the midnight blue sky and the clifftop theatre, her face lit up by the moon. She shivered a little with the cold breeze off the sea and he took the rug from her hands and threw it around her. As he tucked it around her, they smiled at each other. Her eyes had a twinkle, one he recognised from their time in Tresco when they’d got a bit giggly drinking in the New Inn and he remembered the same look when he’d said goodnight to her after they’d got drunk in the pub at Sennen with her sister. Her guard was down and the affection she felt was clear in her eyes. He stepped closer to her, still holding the edges of the rug in each hand. A voice in his head said this was rash but he couldn’t help it. Scrunching the rug up and using it to pull her to him, he placed a soft kiss on her lips. His arms slipped around her and the kiss deepened but just as their tongues touched and he felt virtual fireworks going off in his head, she pulled away, pushing on his chest and breaking their kiss.

Swallowing thickly and clearly holding back tears, she blurted out:

“No stop, we can’t, I can’t, I’m sorry, I just can’t - you’re going home soon and this, this will make it hurt even more”

She looked down at her feet, shoulders slumped, then wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.

“I’m sorry, so sorry, I know shouldn’t have done that, it’s just, God, you’re so beautiful tonight and I feel so much for you and it all just came spilling out, you know, in the moment.”

She took his hand in hers, softly rubbing his knuckles with her thumb.

“Thank you” She sighed heavily “I feel so much for you too - just protecting my poor old heart I guess.”

He nodded, his expression as sad and wistful as hers. They were quiet on the climb back up to the car park from the beach. It was steep and a bit treacherous in the dark so she relented on one aspect of physical closeness and let him hold her hand up the path, dropping it when they got to the car park where the taxi was just pulling in. On the way back to Sennen she took the front seat and he the back. Keanu cursed himself for his impetuousness whilst also pondering that it had surely been a long time since a kiss had made him feel something so intensely. Once back in Sennen they said their goodnights with a chaste kiss on the cheek.

Keanu slept terribly, tossing and turning all night, dreaming of Kerry, of kissing her, of Kerry naked rising and falling above him, taking him inside her, her hair cascading over her shoulders. He woke with a start, grateful he hadn’t had a wet dream, then relieved his pent-up lust in his morning shower, pressing his head against the glass after he’d cum, finally letting tears of regret fall.

For the next two days, he didn’t see Kerry at all. Usually, they saw each other every day somehow or other but she was obviously avoiding him – he guessed she was taking Scout for super early walks knowing he wasn’t a naturally early riser.

On the third day and his last in Cornwall, he set an alarm for 6 AM and listened out for her leaving the house, then scrambled to get dressed and head out himself. He looked down the beach and could see she’d gone that way today so he’d be able to catch her up or meet her on the return leg of the walk. He had to apologise for the kiss.

In the end, he caught up on the outward leg as she’d stopped by the shore to let Scout run in and out of the waves and was just staring out to sea.

“Hey there!” he called.

“Hey” she said, her voice expressing her surprise.

“You’ve been avoiding me” he stated “So I set an alarm to make sure I could speak with you. Listen Kerry, about the other night. I’m so sorry, I know it was stupid and I’m sorry, the last thing I wanted to do was hurt you – I was just so caught up in the moment, the beauty of it all. The play, the moonlight, the sea and the stars.”

“I know, and I know you’d never hurt me. You’re too kind for that” she smiled but it was with sad eyes.

“And I should be saying sorry too, for sneaking around avoiding you. I’ve been a coward. And I promised myself I would stop that behaviour, you know, after the divorce. I said I’d be true to myself and honest with people and I need to stick to it.”

Up to this point Kerry had been mainly looking down, almost talking to herself but now she drew in a shaky breath and looked him in the eye.

“I could fall, no let’s face it, I am falling in love with you and I know there’s no future for us and a fling or a one nighter would be wonderful in the moment but would just be too painful in the end so that’s why I’ve avoided you! And I’m sorry for that, there I’ve said it now”

She blew out another long breath and let her shoulders droop, relieved to have said her piece.

Keanu was taken aback. Half thrilled and half devastated. Why did this have to happen now and here, over 7000 miles from his home?

“I’m falling in love with you too” he said quietly, sadly “but you’re right my life’s back there in LA. I have to go, I have commitments ……….. meetings, another location shoot. I’m sorry.”

She moved closer, took his hand and kissed it.

“Just one of those things, huh?”

He nodded and pulled her into a bear hug, she pressed her face against his heart which he knew was beating a little faster than usual.

“Come on let’s go walk it off, up on the cliffs, let the fresh air clear our heads.” he suggested.

They headed off up the beach and onto the coast path towards Lands End. They walked mostly in silence, each thinking about what was around the corner for them, each heartsore that the other wasn’t part of their futures.

“You know, I’d like to stay in touch” Kerry offered as they paused for a while on the path when Scout went scurrying off after spotting a rabbit.

“I’d like that too” he paused “but maybe not too much, too soon, you know. I guess we both need some space to let this be a friendship we cherish and not something that makes us sad.

“deal” she said sticking her hand out to shake on it.

“deal” he smiled back but like hers, his smile didn’t reach his eyes.

The next day, Keanu left for home. She came into the cottage to tell him the taxi was out front.

They shared a hug and a kiss on the cheek.

“We’ll keep in touch yeah?” he said.

“Yeah but remember not too much, no mooning!”

He laughed

“I’ll have you know I’m a veteran mooner” and he turned away from her pretending he was going to do the other kind of mooning, making her laugh. At least that broke the tension and he picked up his canvas hold all and his carry-on bag and with that, he was gone.

@fortheloveoffanfic@ladyreapermc@paperplanesandwallflowers@toomanystoriessolittletime@omg-imagine@fics-not-tragedies@ficsnroses@keanureevesisbae

[burningupp-replies]

That day, the JD was pretty busy. Both you and Zuko were running around like crazy people, fulfilling orders and cleaning up after guests. It was stressful, yes, but holy shit you guys worked so well together! As you took the orders, Zuko would listen with half an ear. The drinks and pastries would be all set on a tray as soon as they were needed, where you would then trade his full tray for your tray full with dirty dishes, which were then handed to Azula who was on dish duty for the day.

Everything was running like a well-oiled machine; Azula let you know as much with some comments during the day. Those comments were hard to describe... They felt almost snide, but you could tell she was at least trying to be genuine, so you just smiled back at her and were your general cheery self.

When things started winding down, and Azula's shift ended, you and Zuko shared a few conversations when nothing else needed to be done. You were exhausted after the first six hours of your eight hour shift were a constant rush, but the conversations shared with him somehow made it all worth it.

"So obviously, I had to let her know she was being a nutcase, but I had to be nice even if she was a witch," you rambled on, talking about an earlier customer who could probably be described as a Karen.

"As you do," Zuko teased, and you swatted his arm.

"Yes, sometimes you do! Stop making fun of me," you whined, pouting at him. Zuko went quiet for a little, just staring at you, so you stopped pouting and huffed. "Anyway, I kindly let her know that even if I wanted to provide her with a fresh smoothie with grapefruit, we didn't have grapefruit. And even if we did, we don't have a blender or an actual recipe to satisfy her needs, and the smoothie shop down the freaking road would probably happily serve her a smoothie containing grapefruit. And then, can you guess what she did? "

Zuko raised an eyebrow. "Ask to talk to the manager?"

"YES! The nerve of some people, I'm just so tired. So then I sent her to talk to Azula," you finished, smirking.

At this, Zuko burst out laughing. You grinned, because you didn't think anything in the world was as beautiful as this boy laughing. He wasn't one to laugh for the sake of laughing, so when he did, you knew it was genuine.

There were many little things like that which you had picked up on during the past month working at the Jasmine Dragon. He was extremely punctual, but was fairly forgiving of others. He liked routine and order, but didn't get upset with chaos as long as he could have his own neat little bubble. He didn't mind cleaning up after others; in fact, he preferred it. And above all, he was kind.

The afternoon started bleeding into evening, and you discussed everything under the sun, from your love of everything cute and fluffy to you recommending a sleepy time tea for his insomnia. You had a pack with you, and offered him a bag. He smiled cutely, and you felt your heart melt a little. Damn it.

~*~

As soon as you guys closed the shop after the last customer, you could leave. The evening had been really slow, surprisingly, and everything that would normally need to get done after closing was already taken care of. So you both grabbed your things and went to Zuko's car. It was fairly cold outside so late in the evening, and you tried to suppress your shivers so he wouldn't see. Of course, though, he did.

"You okay?" he asked, a bit concerned.

"Oh, yeah, it's nothing. Just a big contrast to the heat when working with tea," you joked, and he chuckled.

"I suppose," he hummed as he turned the heat up in the car.

Some soft music played in the background the entire ride back, but honestly, you couldn't even tell what it was - you were nervous. And it didn't help that he folded up his sleeves to his elbows while driving, because damn; that did things to you.

Once you pulled over to park and go inside, he handed you his hoodie, no questions asked. You took it reluctantly, but pulled it on anyway. It smelled like him - firewood and something so warm and sweet, you couldn't describe it.

"So, this is my place. It's not much, but I don't need much," Zuko introduced once you came in through the door.

It was a modern apartment - everything was black and white, with a few paintings here and there. It was fairly small, seemed like a one bedroom apartment, but it was still nicer than anything you could even hope for in the near future.

"It's really nice, Zuzu, I like it," you replied, beaming a smile up at him. He smiled back. "So I brought a change of clothes, and figured that maybe I could use your bathroom to change?" you asked after a few moments of silence.

"Y-yes, of course," he stammered, and showed you to a bathroom.

You thanked him, and went to change. It wasn't anything extraordinary, you were only watching a movie after all, but you hadn't exactly brought your worst chill-at-home clothes. A pair of yoga pants and a tank top, and you decided to put on Zuko's hoodie again - you hoped he wouldn't mind.

When you were done changing you brushed your hair, putting it in a messy bun on top of your head, before heading back out into the living room/kitchen. The apartment was open plan, after all.

"Alright, so I don't own the movie, but I did bring my laptop and my Disney+ account, so I figured it would do," you joked, and Zuko turned around with a bowl of popcorn in his hands. And then he froze.

It was quiet for a few beats. You took the time to appreciate the man in those damn grey sweats again, and a normal t-shirt. Spirits, did he make everything look good?

After a moment he blinked a few times, then shook his head so slightly you could have missed it; but of course you didn't, because you were very observant when it came to this man.

"Uhm, sure. Sounds good," he replied once he gathered his thoughts, and you suddenly struck by a realization.

"Oh sorry, I should have asked if I could use this," you mumbled, gesturing at the hoodie adorning your body while blushing a little. "I can take it off if you-"

"NO!" Zuko almost shouted, and you jumped a little. He cleared his throat. "No, it's fine."

You smiled shyly before unpacking your laptop and setting up the movie, sitting down on the couch. Zuko joined you soon after, and seeing as you were watching on a laptop, you had to scooch in pretty close. At first you blushed, asking if it was okay, to which he just nodded, and then you fell into silence while watching the movie.

Halfway through, your head hit his shoulder, as you were getting pretty tired. He stiffened at first, but then he relaxed even more, and you stayed like that. He leaned his head on top of yours and you sighed, eyes drooping more and more. Before falling asleep, you registered a deep hum of contentment combined with strong arms wrapping around you tightly, squeezing you a little.

TEAMWORK | part 7

A/N: i decided to write this movie night, too! i hope you guys like my "actual" writing too, not just the texts :p also, i'm almost at 40 followers which??? crazy??? thank you all! lmk if you want to be added to the taglist <3

Taglist:

@theblueslytherin @bakugouswh0r3 @slutforsalvatore @charlenasaxen

[marzipanandminutiae]

My (non-exhaustive) Antique and Vintage Doll Wishlist

1. An 18th-century carved wooden doll (sometimes called Queen Anne dolls)

(Photo from Theriault’s auction house.)

These are...intense. I got to hold one once at a doll show; it was a spiritual experience. She was exquisite, with all her original layers of clothing including tiny separate pockets.

She also cost $25,000. Which would be why you tend to see these in museums more than private collections, barring like...the Elderly European Nobility Collectors(TM) and people who bought them in 1940 for $150 at a junk shop.

So unless a miracle on par with finding a Picasso at a yard sale occurs, I doubt one of these beauties will be gracing my shelf anytime soon. But a girl can dream, right?

2. A Simon and Halbig 1159

(Also a photo from Theriault’s. Theriault’s can have issues with honest representation of auction items, but they’re good for high-quality doll photos.)

This one is more along the order of “if I saved for a year or two very diligently, I could probably make it happen.” She’s just not a high priority with my doll money right now. But as a collector of antique and vintage lady/fashion dolls, I’m definitely keeping my eyes peeled for a good example to snap up someday.

3. An appropriate head for Doll Bod

(Theriault’s again. I doubt Doll Bod’s first frock will be that magnificent, but I can certainly do my best.)

Doll Bod is a jointed wooden body for a fashion doll by the Bru firm of Paris, and completing her is my number one Doll Goal(TM) at the moment. Hence why this list is in no particular order.

She could have the earlier “round face Bru” head, but most of my doll mentors agree that she’s probably meant to be the above-pictured “smiling Bru” model, patented c. 1873. Either way, a wood-bodied French fashion doll has been my ultimate doll dream for almost a decade now, and being so close is incredibly tantalizing.

Fingers crossed it’ll happen sooner rather than later!

4. A lady automaton, preferably the “waltzing lady” or “gliding lady” type

(Do I really have to say it at this point? Just assume Theriault’s unless I say otherwise.)

I’d take any of several types of popular lady automaton, but I do love the ones you wind up and set whirling or gliding across the floor.

5. One of the “Godey Lady” outfits for my Cissy doll.

I’m partial to the blue one in particular, but the pink and purple is cute, too (despite my general disinterest in pink things). These outfits are slightly later than my doll, who was made around 1955 versus the early 1960s release date of the Godey Cissy dolls. And they’re rather rare to find. But I kind of love the idea of having all my Victorian dolls contrasted with one in Midcentury-Does-Victorian.

Okay, and my BJDs in 2010s-20s Does 1920s And Tudor. And my early 1960s Barbie. Which brings me to...

6. A brunette Barbie #3

(Alamy Stock Photos, obviously.)

I like the slightly softer face paint of the #3 and #4 more than the earlier or later ponytail Barbies, and I love the way the #1-3 fade to a pale ivory skin tone with age. My preference for white dolls tends to be very pale or literally white complexions and dark hair; I really love the dramatic contrast.

Fun fact: I have actually purchased a brunette #3 before! At a doll show, when the budget I’d saved up turned out to be more than I needed for the doll I wanted. But I gave her to my mom, as a way of replacing the one she had as a kid that got yard-sold. Made her a little replica of Mom’s favorite childhood Barbie dress- one my great-grandmother hand-sewed. So I’d like one of my own someday.

And then I can dress her and my blonde #5 up as brides and pose them like they’re having the classiest sapphic wedding of 1961.

7. A Black French fashion doll

(La Maison de Poupee Paris Ruby Lane sales page; doll has been sold. She’s by the Francois Gaultier firm of Paris, probably c. 1875-1885.)

All of my dolls, at the moment, are white. That is not intentional. While Black or generally dark-skinned fashion dolls (that weren’t racist nightmare caricatures) did exist pre-1920, they are very rare. And very expensive when they do come on the market. I’ve seen one in person once, but she was way outside my budget.

I’d love at least one example to diversify my collection. And show that- surprise! -there were wealthy Black families in 19th-century Europe and America, and they did have options for gorgeous Black dolls to give their children.

Though if I should be so astronomically lucky as to stumble onto more than one example, I’d probably donate the others to a Black history museum. Or a young Black collector just starting out in the doll world. 

I’m unlikely to even get my hands on even one for many more years, if ever. But hey- stranger things have happened.

8. An early French papier-mache doll (sometimes called a “Pauline” doll)

(Doll sold by The Antique Doll Room on Ruby Lane. They don’t all have teeth, not that the teeth are an issue for me.)

These were usually assembled in France, out of papier-mache heads produced in Germany and locally-made leather or cloth bodies. They’re usually from the 1830s-early 60s, and they’re beautiful, and there is one on eBay right now that is tempting me to blow all my Christmas money in one place like you wouldn’t believe HELP

Ahem. Sorry. They’re an important development in the world of western lady dolls and I would very much like one.

9. An Izannah Walker doll

(Photo from a Ruby Lane blog post. There were also Black Izannah Walker dolls and boy variants, but the white female dolls are the most common.)

New England dolls represent! These American pressed-cloth dolls with sculpted and oil-painted faces were made by the artist Izannah Walker of Central Falls, Rhode Island, starting in the 1830s, possibly as early as 1828. 

I just think they’re neat.

So, you know. If I ever win the lottery, those will be the first 9 dolls I seek out.

[pricemarshfield]

i dig you

A fluff & angst Amberprice fic. Chapter 1/2. Read on AO3 here.

Chloe still seems shocked every time Rachel sits next to her at lunch. She hides it well, snarks at anyone who questions them, teases Rachel about the plays she still brings to read and reread again and again.

But Rachel's pretty insightful, and she notices when Chloe's eyes widen, when she shifts like she's not quite sure what to do, when her smile dims a little when Victoria loudly questions why Rachel's still hanging around the soon-to-be-dropout.

She's not sure what to do about it. If she just tells her no, Chloe, I do want to be here still, she's sure Chloe'd find a way to take it the wrong way, question why she needed to bring it up, deny she ever doubted it in the first place. One or all of those things. She loves her, but her abandonment issues run deep. Rachel could punch Victoria, but she'd definitely get kicked out for that, and she doesn't want to risk law school.

So she makes an effort to include Chloe in everything. Chloe sits in on rehearsals, ignoring Mr. Keaton's increasingly desperate attempts to get her to join or at least take the intro elective class. They get high in the junkyard, find a little room and make it their own with graffiti (with actual spray paint, thank you, not a Sharpie). Rachel watches Chloe's weird movies, Chloe watches Rachel's Broadway bootlegs, they listen to punk and drive around in the truck, fabric of the seat replaced so they can't see the deep, dark red stain from when she got stabbed.

It doesn't change anything. Chloe still looks at her like it'll be the last time they hang out every time they have some minor disagreement, texts a hundred times in a row begging her not to leave her every time she gets drunk without Rachel there to reassure her in person. It's...a little exhausting, if she's being honest. She loves Chloe, she wants to help her! But it's...sometimes she's just trying to have fun with some other group, and it's been three parties of that in a row.

"You texting your girlfriend?" asks some well-meaning newbie to the Vortex Club. Rachel opens her mouth to deny it, already dreading having to make herself heard over Victoria's snide commentary and Nathan's barely-veiled homophobia, but then her phone goes off again, and again, and one more time for good measure.

"I do have to take this," she says, and pretends she can't hear the conversation that kicks up before the door's fully shut behind her.

The cool, fresh air outside is refreshing, and she takes a couple deep breaths before calling Chloe.

"Rachel," Chloe says, voice slurring enough that Rachel's heart immediately kicks into a higher gear.

"Hey, Chlo," Rachel says, a nickname she has not used once in her life. "What's up?"

"Wher're you?" Chloe asks instead. Rachel doesn't hear the sound of the train, so probably not in the junkyard? But it could just not be passing.

"At Blackwell," Rachel says, which isn't, technically, a lie. She's on school grounds, and she says it casually enough that Chloe doesn't immediately push. "Do you want to come over? We could put on a movie, light some incense."

Chloe laughs, and the sound is light and easy before it cuts out abruptly. She can't hear anything on the other end.

"Chloe? Are you okay?"

"I'm fucking fine," Chloe says, and she keeps her voice quiet, so that means she's at her house. Rachel's tipsiness from earlier in the night has long since faded, she's probably good to drive, and she really, really doesn't want to leave Chloe alone. There's an edge to her voice that Rachel doesn't trust, reminds her of the fragility in her mom's voice the last time she visited before apparently disappearing off the face of the earth.

Rachel hopes she's in rehab. But she thinks Rose would tell her if that was the case.

"Okay," Rachel says. "I'd still like to hang out, if you're free."

"'Course I'm free," Chloe says. "i don't have any fuckin' friends, do I." It's not said like a question.

"You have me."

"Right," Chloe says. "Just the best of friends."

Rachel's already in the parking lot, trying to remember where the hell she'd parked the car. (Her dad's: knowing how much evidence they have on him working with Damon, he's been inclined to give her everything she wants, especially now that she's already met her mom. Rose still tries, too.) "Yeah. We're best friends, Chloe. You're the person I care about most in this shithole town."

"Yeah," Chloe says. "Yeah, when are we leaving, again? Thought you wanted to leave more than anything?"

"I did!" Rachel says, then corrects, "I do. I had to heal up after getting stabbed, remember?"

It's shitty and manipulative, but it works; Chloe's irritation switches to concern. "Yeah. I remember."

"But I am feeling better now," Rachel says. "I'm ready to go when you are."

"Now?"

"Sure," Rachel says. "Tell me where you are."

"Step-dick's house," Chloe says, quieter now. "Do you mean it?"

"Of course I mean it," Rachel says. "Do you still have all the clothes I packed you?"

"Yeah," Chloe says, voice hitching a little like she's about to cry. "I do."

"Awesome," Rachel says, excited despite herself. "Then I'll see you soon."

---

Rachel wants to be ready for the grand adventure with her friend at her side, but Chloe's house is more than a couple minutes' drive from Blackwell, which gives the logical parts of her plenty of time to ask her what the fuck she thinks she's doing.

They have no money. Rachel's barely gotten her first credit card, and it has, like, 1500 dollars on it. Which is a lot of money, but she's already spent some of it on alcohol, on their half-decent fakes, on Venmoing Frank for their weed or the other things she's tentatively tried. So they have about a thousand, which will cover gas to LA, at least, and probably food, and do they really need hotel rooms?

But of course they need hotel rooms, they can't just park by the side of the road in the middle-of-nowhere freeways. Those are like...fifty bucks? A hundred bucks? They can share a bed, that should make it cheaper.

So. A thousand will get them to LA. Then they'll...get jobs, Rachel guesses.

She's got this idea of herself working at a diner, wearing some cute outfit with pops of red, serving coffee and making small talk with the chefs while she waits for her big break. But that's only good for the modelling; she wants to go into law one day, too.

Maybe she can transfer to a school there? Showing she's independent enough to live on her own (with Chloe, of course, but without her parents there) has to look good on an application?

Or reckless and irresponsible, like her dad keeps calling Chloe.

All-in-all, Rachel's doubting everything in her entire life as she pulls up to Chloe's house. Chloe isn't outside, and she's about to throw some pebbles at her window when the front door opens with barely a creak.

"Did you oil the hinges?" Rachel asks, trying to keep the tone light. "Handy."

Chloe beams at her, wearing Rachel's old tarot shirt. Fuck, her tarot decks, she wants to bring those. All her things. At least some clothes. Probably some food, too?

"Do you have all the stuff you wanna bring?" Rachel asks. "We might need to stop by my place."

"That's what you said last time," Chloe says, but looks at Rachel, wearing her party outfit--only a tank top and some high shorts, which are cute but not great for the only outfit to have in a big life change--and shrugs.

Rachel breathes a sigh of relief. "Plus, they'll get mad if we steal the car. And gas is gonna be expensive enough."

"Don't care," Chloe says. "I'll take the truck."

Chloe, who is visibly swaying on her feet, is absolutely not good to drive. Rachel thinks for a second--if she drives her dad's car back, Chloe can be in the passenger seat, but then they'll have to walk with all her bags back to the truck. If they take the truck, Rachel can leave the keys and a note explaining where it is. They'll be mad, but whatever.

"Can I drive your truck, actually?" Rachel asks, and Chloe shrugs again. It won't be the first time behind the wheel of the truck, but it will be the first time on actual roads, not the paths they'd cleared in the junkyard. "Thanks, Chloe."

"Sure," Chloe says, tossing her the keys and yanking at the handle on her side. Rachel opens her door, reaches over to unlock the passenger side so Chloe can climb in. "What are we getting?"

"Clothes," Rachel says. "Maybe my tarot decks."

A couple of the plays she has physical copies of. Any and all drugs left in her room. Her flashlight that Chloe made for her. The important things.

"Okay," Chloe says. "You mean it? We're gonna leave?"

"I do," Rachel says, and she should kiss her. She should. She has before. She wants to. But she looks at Chloe, eyes still wide with disbelief that Rachel will follow her, will help lead the way out. If she pushes this, and she's wrong...

Rachel grabs her hand instead, smiles at her. Chloe squeezes it, and they keep holding hands the whole way to the Amber house. Rachel hopes she won't ever let go.

[leoneslover]

hi hi !! Can I request a one shot about Suga asking the reader out on a date for the first time? Like, they’ve both liked each other for a long time and Suga finally decides to make the first move. They grab lunch, go on a super cute museum date, and it ends with him walking the reader home. I can just imagine how cute and blushy he would be, and maybe include one of those super cute first kiss scenes? 🥺👉👈

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠༄

Sugawara Kōshi x reader(gn!)

Warnings: none, just a bunch of fluff

A/n: I am so sorry this took so long, anyways I hope this is worth the wait. Also btw, this is so cute I love this idea sm dkdndkdn mainly because I have this hc where Suga is really interested in like, art and stuff, so I thought they could go to an art museum so he could explain stuff about the paintings to the reader 🥺👉👈

• He took a deep breath to calm himself down. The soft breeze of the upcoming springtime hitting his exposed forearms as he patiently waited for you. It was just a date, he had everything planned, technically nothing could go wrong. And besides, it was you, you already knew him better than himself probably, he shouldn’t be worrying too much.

Yet there he was, his thoughts running wild to places he didn’t want them to go and his hands already trembling slightly. He took another deep breath, curling his hands into fists at his sides, in a slight attempt to stop the shaking. Time was passing by way too slowly for his liking, and every second he got more and more worried that you actually wouldn’t come.

He wanted to slap himself, for being so stupid to even think such a thing. But he didn’t, it’ll leave red marks on his face and that’d probably worry you. Another deep breath followed by a sigh and shutting his eyes. He let the vague scent of spring that reminded him of you so much calm him down. Your face popped up in his mind, your bright smile and contagious laugh making him subconsciously smile. The trembling stopped.

“What ‘cha smiling at?” You asked curiously, in a slight mocking tone, as you stepped in front of him.

He opened his eyes, his gaze immediately falling to your figure and a soft blush paiting his cheeks. Was it his imagination or you looked even prettier than usual? Your hair was styled like always, and your outfit seemed like your usual style, but there was something different about you. You raised your brow, and he realized he was staring. The blush intensified.

“Oh, h-hi” he smiled awkwardly and scratched the back of his neck.

To his dismay, you softly laughed at him. But he couldn’t help by smile, more confidently this time. Did you ever notice how radiant you looked when you were happy?

“Stop being nervous” you scolded him, raising your hand to flick his forehead with your index finger, making him jump and soothe it immediately, “we’re just hanging out”.

“I told you to stop doing that, it hurts y’know” he said through gritted teeth, a frown taking over his features as he rubbed his forehead.

You giggled again, and he couldn’t pretend to be mad at you anymore. He sighed, the annoyance fading away as he placed a hand on his hip and stretched the other one to his side, signaling the path ahead of you.

“Shall we get going” he smiled and you nodded, turning around to start walking in that direction, him following by your side.

“You haven’t told me were are we going yet” you commented, turning your head to stare at him. The sun of the early afternoon creating beautiful highlights on his silver hair. Did he ever notice how nice he looked under the sunlight?

“It’s a surprise” he smirked, eyeing you for a second to give you a brief reassuring smile, “don’t worry about it, I already have everything planned”.

You squinted at him briefly, but decided to trust him anyways. Blindly following him to wherever he decided to take you.

Turns out the place was further than you expected, since you had to take the bus to get there. And as you sat side by side on one of the backseats of the almost empty vehicle , you could feel your hands grazing his every once in a while.

Should I take it?

Should I let him take it?

But the ride was over before neither of you could do anything about it.

After some more walking you finally reached your destination. A huge building stood tall in front of you, a bunch of sculptures hanging out in the front part of the museum and filling the place with vibrant colors. You took it all in, the beautiful architecture of the place itself mixed with the nice colors of the decorations around it.

Suga stared at you as you did so. He had a gut feeling that he’d see that awestruck expression of yours a bunch of times today. And oh he couldn’t wait already.

“Let’s go silly” he pushed you gently, and he had to fight back the blush that threatened to take over his features when you turned to look at him with that spark of excitement in your eyes that he grew to love. “The actual art is inside the building y’know”.

“I know” you scoffed, starting to make your way towards the entrance with him, “but look at it, it’s gorgeous!”.

He giggled at your excitement. He couldn’t help but feel a wave of relief course through his body, the past worry of you thinking that his plan was lame vanishing as soon as you made your way through the double doors.

After a little debate you decided to make your way towards the painting section. Rooms and hallways decorated with beautiful oil paintings caught your attention immediately.

If he would be in any other situation, he would have probably stared at the dull yet rich colors that stood out in front of him the same way you did. However, even if he tried to focus on the pieces ahead, his gaze would naturally gravitate towards your figure. The way your eyes sparkled as you took pictures of your favorite ones. How you put all your focus on him and listened to every single word as he told you little fun facts about the paintings. How you excitedly grabbed his wrist to guide him to the next one that caught your eye. All little details and things that made his heart flutter and a soft blush paint his cheeks.

Have you always been this cute?

Since when had your lovely smile and sparkly eyes taken over his heart to make him feel the way he did?

You stopped in front of a simple frame. The painting of two young lovers kissing behind a tree in a beautiful park displayed for everyone to see. That’s when Suga finally looked at the actual art in front him, and couldn’t help but blush almost immediately.

“Are there any fun facts about this one?” You asked without looking at him, your gaze lost in the ethereal sweet feeling of the painting.

“Yeah, actually..” he scratched the back of his neck, staring at the frame but paying more attention to your movements from the corner of his eye, “The guy who painted this one is actually the same guy from the painting itself”.

You turned to look at him, intrigued by his words.

“He was in love with his best friend, for years I think, but he was never brave enough to tell them. Until one day, he took them for a picnic at this hidden place in the woods, a place he found while looking around for inspiration for more paintings. I think he couldn’t keep bottling up his feeling anymore and just went for it. I’m not sure of what happened next exactly, but allegedly those two are supposed to be him and his best friend. That’s why the painting it’s called ‘forbidden lovers’ or something like that”.

“Wow” you almost whispered, turning back to look at the painting again. He didn’t dare to look at you again, the story about that one hitting him too close home. But for his surprise, you spoke again. “Id like to recreate this one...”

You trailed off, and he involuntarily turned his head to look at you. Suddendly he was extremely aware of your soft hand that was still wrapped around his wrist, and the way his heart rate sped up in an instant. To him, you seemed oblivious to the effect you had on him, how suddendly all those bottled up feeling he had for you rose up to the surface, tickling his skin and screaming to just fuck it and give in, to take you in his arms now that he finally had the chance and never let you go. But little did he know, that you were struggling with your own emotions yourself.

The implication hung high in the air, and suddendly the ambient had gone tense. You didn’t dare to look at him, fully knowing that he was looking at you. You knew that if you turned your head to the side you wouldn’t be able to hold back what you’ve been wanting to do for such a long time by now. So you stayed quiet, pretending to stare at the painting in a weak attempt to calm yourself down before you ruined your chance for going too fast. You suddendly became aware of your hand around his wrist, your hand twitching in realization.

Should it let him go?

Should I pull them close?

But before neither of you could make a decision, the sound of a phone ringing in the distance bursted your little bubble.

“L-let’s go see that one” you quickly said, pulling him behind you again and running off the the first painting you saw.

He let you drag him around so he wouldn’t have to think about what you said too much.

It didn’t take long for that little awkward moment to be left behind, the two of you making your way in the huge building and finding new and more exciting things to see as time passed. It seemed like you came to an unspoken agreement to just forget what you said and keep carrying on with your date. And he couldn’t help but notice now, how it seemed like you always knew what to do in any sort of situation naturally. How to not let any awkward situation get in your way of having fun, how to comfort the other when needed, how to know where to go for lunch without even saying a word. You clicked with each other so well, that sometimes words weren’t needed, even for agreements.

He smiled to himself, his heart softening at the thought of the two of you being literally made for each other. And he couldn’t help but let the thought linger in his head as he watched you look with stars in your eyes at every single piece of art during your visit.

It wasn’t until a couple hours later, while you were waiting for the bus, commenting about your favorite paintings and showing him how pretty they looked on the pictures you took, that he realized that he hadn’t been paying attention to any of the paintings in the museum, since his gaze was fixed on you the whole time. And surprisingly, he didn’t mind it. Not a single bit.

You sat next to each other in the bus on your way back as well, your head falling softly against the window while you rested your eyes as the movement of the vehicle lulled you to sleep. However before you could completely give in to your tiredness, a soft touch grazing your hand alerted you.

Is he gonna take it?

Would they mind if I take it?

And this time, before the bus stopped, he decided to take your hand. A small smile curled up your lips for the rest of the ride.

Your hands remained locked even after you got off the bus, walking down your neighborhood since he insisted on walking you home. The smile never fell off your lips, and none of you addressed it directly, because you didn’t have to. Suga noticed how once again you fell into a mutual agreement without sharing words, and it made him smile too.

“Thanks for today, I had a really good time” You finally broke the silence once you reached your house, your hand still grabbing his.

“Me too, maybe we should go grab lunch too next time” he said, the bright smile he always saved for you shining in the dim lights of the late afternoon.

“I’d love to” you smiled as well. The implication of a future date making your heart do flips of joy.

A silence fell between you two again. None of you wanted to say goodbye just yet, it didn’t feel right, even tho your date was already over. You both became highly aware of your hands at the same time, and he prayed internally for his hand to not start sweating at that moment. You turned to look at him, the golden hour of the sunset reflecting on his silver hair beautifully, making your heart skip a beat. He looked back at you, and your lips parted slightly.

Has he always been this beautiful?

Have they always been this beautiful?

He licked his lips, and you did the same, both of you too lost on your own thought to register the other’s movements. He took a step forward, almost hetistating, and you didn’t step back.

Should I kiss them?

Please kiss me.

He took another step forward, and you leaned in.

Fuck it.

He leaned down and pressed his lips against yours, and you could swear your soul just left your body. You kissed back, your lips catching his in an kinda awkard and nervous kiss. It was a little messy, and it probably ended way too quick for both of your likings. But it made your chest burst with fireworks, and you could see the very obvious blush painting his cheeks once you broke apart.

“You’re beautiful” you both said at the same time, making you both freeze for a second, before you bursted out laughing.

It was a refreshing moment, right at the beginning of spring, the scent of new flowers and the golden tone from the sunlight making the scene just downright perfect. He almost wanted to hit himself for being so nervous earlier, how stupid of him. And you wanted to kiss him again, just one more time before you turned back.

He smiled, watching you as you reached your front door. You turned around, smiling to him one last time before getting into your house. The image of you turning around only to dedicate him one last time forming the sweetest thought in his mind.

You are prettier than all the paintings, my love.