#drawing the white lady is so fun i think i should draw her more often sometimes

[eliduck]

Tiny King and his giant lovely Queen

[birdy-bat-writes]

Coffee for Mrs. Seresin?

Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Fem!Reader

Content warnings: Pining, fluff, and uh.... caffeine? Mild swears, Maybe some banter. I have no clue what qualifies as a warning anymore, I'm so sorry, y'all:') Also, sorry for the spelling, grammar, and punctuation errors.

A/n: Should I be doing math right now? Should I actually be sleeping right now? Yes and yes, BUT no one can blame me. I was reading an adorable Jake Seresin Fanfic by @roosterbruiser (everyone go read Millie's work, it's gold) and I got an idea and I had to write it somewhere so here:D

You were pretty used to people assuming you and Jake were an item. When an attractive guy and an attractive girl have been friends since college and spend as much time together as you both do, you suppose it's a fair conclusion for people to draw, but an incorrect one, nonetheless. And you really wish people would stop asking because every time you had to explain to someone how you were "just friends," it ate you a little more inside.

The fact of the matter was this: you were in love with your best friend. And it sucked.

You stepped out of your car and strode along the stone walkway amidst the grass up to Rooster's door and rang the bell. It was a cute little townhouse with a blue exterior and you often poked fun at him for how much it resembled a little wooden birdhouse with its colorful walls and white wood-rimmed windows. You suppose it's fitting since Rooster lives there and yes, he hates that gag. It also serves as your group's prime hang-out spot, which is why you're here now.

The door opened to reveal Natasha, wrapped up in an oversized sweatshirt with her hair thrown up in a claw clip. "Yes, you brought chips!"

"Yeah, you didn't really specify which flavor so I just got them all." You said, walking in. "Guests should start coming in an hour, right?"

"Mmm-hmm." The 7 of you were throwing a casual party to celebrate Jake's promotion to Lieutenant-Commander. You saw Nat lift her eyes and smirk. "And there he is, the man of the hour." You turned around to see Jake at the end of the staircase.

"Well, hello, Mr. Man-of-the-hour," you teased, setting down the numerous bags of chips you were holding.

"Glad you're finally here, N/N. I was starting to think you were going to leave me here to fend for myself against Rooster's ABBA medley." Jake wrapped an arm around your shoulder and pulled you into his side. It was always like this. Him giving you butterflies you had to ignore because there was inevitably some other girl.

"Oh please, I would never leave you to fend for yourself against Rooster. I would join him and together, we'd overpower you and make you listen to ABBA forever." You grinned up at him and he narrowed his eyes, lips quirking up at the corners.

"Betrayal never comes from an enemy, I see," he shook his head at you. "I will leave you, lovely ladies, to yourselves. If you need me, I'll be in the kitchen." You watched Jake walk away and disappear around the corner. When you turned back, Natasha was still wearing that smug smile she always did when she saw you two. You knew it was coming.

"Nix, I'm telling you, if you say it, I'm salting your coffee." She knew you were messing with her but one of these days, you might just do it.

"All I'm saying is, shoot your shot! Come on, just once before you go settle for this rando."

"Mark is not a rando. We know him from accounting!"

"Exactly, Y/N, we know him from accounting. You don't even like the guy, heck you hardly know him."

"Exactly. That's why we're going to get to know each other at this party. I need to get over this crush, now. I can't keep pining for a guy who has no interest in me," you saw Natasha's mouth open as if to say something and you quickly jumped in, "And don't say he's interested. He's been with other girls multiple times and never once looked at me like that."

"True, I won't argue there. He's never looked at any of those girls the way he was just looking at you either." She took her hair out of her claw clip and it fell onto her shoulders in soft waves. "And ever since we all got back from that mission 3 months ago, he hasn't been with anyone. I really think he's got a thing for you but you're right. You should give this Mark guy a shot if you think he'd be good for you."

You smiled softly. You met Jake's friends when you were in San Diego a few years back. About a year ago, you were permanently stationed here and luckily for you, Jake was too. He settled here about 4 months before you. All his friends became your friends, and you've truly never known a better group of people. And they'd never known someone who could wrangle Hangman, so you were quite quickly welcomed to the group.

You and Pheonix tossed your sweatshirts upstairs and fixed up the last bits of your outfits just in time for guests to start arriving. You even managed to slip in a game of cards with Fanboy, Bob, and Payback before you joined a crowd in the living room. You barely felt the tap on your shoulder. If it wasn't followed by your name, you surely would have missed it. You turned on your heel to see Mark from accounting, facing you with a hand in his pocket.

"Mark, hi!"

"Hey. How are you?" His voice was almost monotone. His eyes roamed the room rather than meeting yours. He had just gotten here and he already sounded like he wanted to be somewhere else. You could have sworn he sounded more lively when you met.

"I'm good. I thought you weren't coming till later."

"I got off work early."

"Ah, well that's great." This guy really wasn't giving you much to work with. "Can I get you something to drink? There are drinks and food in the kitchen." That actually went somewhere. You headed to the kitchen where the conversation just barely picked up.

In the distance, Jake noticed your prolonged absence. As silly as it was, Jake liked knowing you were near him. You didn't have to be attached at the hip but he liked knowing he could saunter over to you and escape into your laugh when you came up in his mind. Which was a lot.

He scanned the room for you and stopped when he caught your frame in the kitchen...with some guy? Who the hell was that?

"Damn, if looks could kill...," Rooster muttered. "Do you not like that dude or something?"

"I don't even know who he is," Jake said through gritted teeth. "What's his name?"

"No clue. Pheonix?"

As if on cue, Natasha spoke up. "That, my friends, is Mark from accounting." Both the boys looked at her with questioning eyes.

"Okay, but who is he?" Something in Jake's voice was different now. Both of them looked at him.

"Careful there, Bagman, you almost sound jealous. He's some guy Y/N knows and I think she likes him." Phoenix was searching Jake's face for any sign that she was right about his feelings for you, and he never noticed because his eyes were trained on you like a hawk.

"I'm not jealous, Pheonix."

"You kinda sound jealous, Hangman," Rooster added, earning a glare from Jake.

"Okay, when we first met and you told me about her, you sounded so lovesick, I thought she was your wife. Cut to, you introduce us all and it turns out you're not married, or dating, but friends? I'm sorry, I do not believe that you two don't have feelings for each other." Natasha's remark sparked something in Jake. She watched the corners of his mouth twitch into a smirk so small, she almost missed it.

"I'll be right back." Jake stated, already pacing away. Rooster and Pheonix watched Jake make his way into the kitchen.

"She likes him too right?" Rooster asked.

"Oh, absolutely," Pheonix responded.

"You know, Fanboy has a betting pool on them."

"What? Get me on this, I have a feeling we'll make some money tonight."

Jake entered the kitchen to see you sitting alone at the table. "Got room for one more?"

"I don't see why not. Shouldn't you be mingling with everyone out there?"

"Well, the person I want to mingle with is in here." You smiled at him. There it was again, that smile that always left him utterly defenseless. "Who's the guy?"

You don't know why you felt your cheeks heat up when Jake asked about him. "His name's Mark. I met him when I was sorting reports last week."

"Okay. So, why do you sound so upset?"

"Because he said he was going to get us drinks 5 minutes ago and I just saw him leave with Commander Reeves' daughter." Honestly, you weren't upset because he left. You were upset because you were glad he did. He was boring you out of your mind and you two absolutely did not click, but it was still disheartening to know that this is what it was going to be like. No guy was going to measure up to the one you wished you were with. The one who was at this table with you now.

Jake was seething. What kind of idiot comes to a party and leaves you for some other girl? "You wanna get out of here?"

"What?"

"Let's leave. I'm bored."

"It's your party, you dork, you can't just leave!" You were giggling at a feeling somewhere in between confusion and disbelief.

"Yeah, it is my party so I say, you and I get out of here." He took you by the hand and walked you out through the back door to his car. And you let him. The chilly air swept you both up.

The drive was pretty calm. You didn't know where Jake was going but you didn't care either. This reminded you of when you two were younger. The long quiet rides in the car with no one but each other for company. He'd put on some cheesy 80's power ballad and you'd both laugh at it until you'd give in and belt it out at the top of your lungs.

"If you don't mind my asking, what did you see in him?"

"I don't really even remember. I think I just wanted to try and get myself out there. I haven't been on a date in literally years."

Jake hesitated before he asked. "So... what made you want to start now?" You felt the words catch in your throat.

"I'm not sure." you lied. You. I'm in love with you and I can't take it.

You felt the car slow down. You were so lost in your thoughts that you didn't even see where Jake parked. A cute little coffee shop and patisserie. Jake got out of his car and rounded the front to open the door for you. He already had you head over heels for him and he didn't even know it. Did he have to be such a gentleman? You weren't sure that you could fall even harder for this man but you really didn't want to find out.

"Why don't you get us a table and I'll get us something to drink. Don't worry, I remember what you like." You nodded and found a two-seat table by the french windows overlooking the city. On the left, in the distance, the last light of sunset was hitting the water and the top of the sky had started to go dark. Little stars twinkled above you. You wondered what it would be like to always be like this? Evenings with you and Jake, running off alone together from places and people you didn't really want to see. Taking comfort in each other's presence because it felt like home. Just then, Jake sat down in front of you. It almost hurt knowing he was right in front of you and you couldn't have him.

"Screw stupid Mark from accounting. He was not worth your time."

"Thanks. It's fine really, I'll find someone else. Someone less boring." When you met Jake's eyes, he looked as if he had something to say. Something he was holding back. "What is it?"

"Don't find someone else."

Did he just- Did you hear him right?

"What? Why?"

"Because-"

"I have a coffee and a latte for Mr. and Mrs. Seresin?" The barista called. You actually felt your heart skip a beat. Your eyebrows scrunched together and you looked to Jake for answers.

"Well, I think that's us." He blurted like it answered all your questions, a smile heard in his voice.

"Mr. and Mrs. Seresin?" You queried, rising out of your seat in tandem with him. "Why'd you tell her we were 'Mr. and Mrs. Seresin?!'"

"Because you looked so down and I thought I'd get a reaction from you! And it's not all my fault, Pheonix gave me the idea." Jake stated, matter-of-factly. How could he say that so casually?! "And you're still looking red so I guess it worked."

You both grabbed your coffees and sat down once again. It was dark out now. Once your laughs and giggles over your reaction were out, you remembered where your last conversation left off.

"Jake, why'd you tell me not to find someone?" You didn't force the question too hard into the conversation. You asked softly, not knowing how or if he would answer. He sighed before he spoke like he was preparing himself.

"Because...because I can't ask you out if you're dating someone else." The emotions hit you like a bombshell.

"You want to ask me out?" You weren't sure this was real. You were really about to pinch yourself before he stopped you in your tracks.

"I've been meaning to for months. Y/N, we've been friends forever, and I didn't want to ruin what we have. I know I should have told you before because I've liked you for as long as- Why are you smiling?"

"Because, you big dummy, I like you too." You couldn't hold it back. You were beaming. You felt butterflies and fireworks all at once just because the man of your dreams just made it all a reality. Jake held your eyes in his and smiled ear-to-ear. You swore you saw his ears go red but if you asked him, you doubt he’d admit it. "I'm really happy right now but I have no clue what to do next."

"I've got it from here," Jake reaches out and takes your hand in both of his. It feels like electricity is coursing through your veins. "Y/N L/N, would you do me the honor of going on a date with me?"

It took everything in you not to squeal in this coffee shop. "Yes, I will do you that honor, Bagman." You responded. He chuckled at you.

"Every now and again, I feel like introducing you to Pheonix was a mistake."

"Speaking of which, I really want to tell her about this but she'll get all smug because she was right."

"You're right. As far as people we don't have to tell yet go, Fanboy and Rooster have been betting on us. We can just keep it from them for now too."

"Deal." A laugh bubbled out of you as you thought about how the squad would react. And then a knock sounded directly next to you on the french window.

"Aww, cute," Rooster noted, his voice muffled by the glass, but still clear enough for you to hear his teasing tone.

"Left your own party so soon?" There stood Pheonix. Along with the rest of the squad leaning against Bradley's bronco.

"Shit." you commented.

"So much for keeping it secret."

———————————————————————

Tag list:

@glorified-red

[vinxwatches]

my adventure's with superman

saw it, thought it had the save voice actor for Lois as played Luz in the owl house (it's not the same) and really liked her design. watching it, damn i like these personalities. i've also grown to like superman more then i did. is he OP? yea, but that's now the draw of him, and a more fun universe is needed to make him enjoyable.

also het get a magical girl transformation which is just hilarious. suit is a bit too armour plated for my liking.

ah, he's so sweat with his parents. i'd seen clips from them trying to do it in other cartoons but it was always a bit stilted, and of course it was shit in man of steel. here's it's just very nice.

i probably shouldn't sympathise so much with the villain.

nope, i think i was mend to sympathise with her. and now we have found the "goodguys". you know, just like how belos was the benevolent leader.

who the fuck uses a blimp these days?!

you should not make the villains fucking cute together if you want me to see them fail!

i really like the banshee. damn she's probably never coming back is she.

"oh, he's a liar" genuinely had my laughing out loud. sorry Clark, this problem isn't over yet.

"now, shut up. i'm about to be nice" great line.

wow, they really made this guy the most unlikeable. treatning people, misogonist, general elon musk and like. truly the biggest douche canoe possible.

standard equipment should come with some needle and treat... yea i really should add that to my handbag. won't need it often, but man will i feel stupid if i could ever need it but then don't have it with me even though i know how to use it. need to look into how to store some treat though.

you can't give superman the :3 face!

you call your product the parasite... bit on the nose for a tech company don't you think?

the bad tech tyrant claims he build the company himself, because of course he does. also it's a white straight man, because of course he is. yea, i got opinions. sure, this is made by an equally big company, but at least calling out bs like this is the popular/normal thing to do.

it really plays into the threat to superman is collateral damage. also fuck yea Lois will fucking suckerpunch a fucker. i really like her personality and that they gave her so much stuff to do.

damn, ep4? that's fast. also really neat as it allows things to continue instead of stagnate, i'm really interesting what she'll do with it.

wow, that's the laziest debumker ever. just going "nah"? you have to give some evidence.

ok, really like that people don't just have one body types. a lady can also be jacked as fuck.

oh, it's her, because of course it's her. it really is impressive how she's so recognizable across series and forms of media.

damn, that's one hell of a way to end the episode, truly tearing shit apart.

so, they're just doing this trope exactly https://www.tumblr.com/moringmark/724550083360718848?source=share (the trope it's making fun of, not the subversion)

the weirdest sweat gay romance ever.

[variousqueerthings]

end of episode/pre-final-episode thoughts!

i really do like fraser and thatcher tbh, i wasn't sure to begin with, because of the eternal curse of "the love interest" but she gets to be very cool and competent (and dommy), which would be the kind of woman that draws fraser + i like that she punched the guy in the face that kept calling her "darling," was waiting for that + she helped solve the case!

also gotta shout out the semaphore bit. was it accurate? no idea. was it funny as hell + showed off their in-sync competencies? fuck yeah

i think there were some underlying questions this season about ray's and fraser's relationship, brought up in the beginning and then popping up here and there, notably very in-your-face in "juliet" and i did feel like i was missing an extra smthinsmthin in terms of them talking it out, because it's been... simmering. and also at times bubbling over. but then largerly kept to the subtext or dropped in many episodes that were more fun and whimsical, but then in this episode they did name a lot of it (and i liked that it happened because of a seemingly stupid thing - fraser getting the glory he doesn't even want, while ray feels overlooked - it's a neat little human "straw breaking camel's back" moment)

so going into the finale: i wonder if it will call back anything or be a whole new Thing coming up? it feels like s2 was a long denouement, including a fair few characters we saw in s1 (off the top of my head, bank robber lady, gerrard, frankie, frasers dad, rays dad, eric (recast/bit of retcon, but we can work with it), the DA, mr mustafi and the landlord, lesley nielsen, and that kid who chronically lies), and a lot of storyline that felt like it was about defining relationships, rather than building to a big finish, a la s1 which had a whole three episode finale. on the whole it feels almost like retrospective wrap-up, rather than halfway through the story (perhaps because it got cancelled a million times?) (also i am curious now, because i always thought dief and fraser met on the ice floe, but i seem to have misread that and that came a lot later. it was fraser who saved diefenbaker first....) -- there weren't a lot of Big Episodes this season, i'd say the biggest was "juliet is bleeding," followed by maybe "red white and blue" or "a bird in the hand," the former being probably the Big Finale that we're about to follow with a more emotional epilogue (although the saint-stuff Took Me Out) and the latter a continuation of the pilot, making it feel like the most longstanding plot

i imagine it'll continue along the lines it has -- something a little softer perhaps, that is, something centering relationships, especially fraser's and ray's and allowing some retrospective work to be done to show how much they mean to each other. maybe a thing allowing fraser and meg to reaffirm their Thing. more similar to "letting go" than to "victoria"

how many times.... has fraser suffered a head-wound? in his life? because it feels? like a lot of times? are you okay? is your brain? okay?

there have been a couple of fun damsel-in-distress moments for fraser and i think ray should Bask in those more often. you might think fraser is a Saint, but you're his Knight In Shining Armour, so... you're winning at life, I'd say

gonna finish the season now and then i think go back and document along similar lines to s1, but with a few little shifts in what it is im looking out for

spoiler for s2ep17 (gj don't look)

bomb-mandated couples therapy

[weirdmarioenemies]

Banjo-Kazooie Spotlight

Hello, all! Guest writer Bynine here with an article on my favorite game of all time! Despite the immense popularity of this beloved N64 classic, the enemies of Banjo-Kazooie are not something that often comes up in discussion. Well, I'm here to change that!! Or at least, write well too much about some choice picks from the bestiary. Let's go!

Topper

Topper is the first in a small collection of sentient, googly-eyed vegetables that live in Spiral Mountain, where heroes Banjo and Kazooie also reside. Get used to those googly eyes, by the way, because you'll be seeing them a lot. Anywho, I really like the name Topper. You know, like "carrot top"! Great names are another feature of this series.

Bawl

Speaking of which, here's Bawl. Bawl is a fun name! It's hard to say without a southern drawl - bawwwl. Besides that, I don't have much to say about this hopping onion, but I still appreciate you, Bawl.

Colliwobble

The finale of our vegetable trio, and I'll be honest, I've saved the best for last. Sorry, Topper and Bawl, but it's a flying cauliflower called Colliwobble! How can you not love that? It flaps around gently with its big leaves, sustaining flight in a physically improbable yet adorable manner. How come the real thing can't do that, huh? No amount of bourbon roasted, brown butter baked cauliflower can convince me that we didn't get the short end of the stick here.

Gruntlings

The henchmen of the villainous witch Gruntilda, these oafish ogres patrol the halls of her lair, running after Banjo in a stance I'm sure they think is very intimidating.

Or maybe they want a hug? C'mere, big fella.

The most striking thing about Gruntlings to me is their impeccable fashion sense. They come in a variety of colors, and each one has a rakishly charming cloak to match, emblazoned with a fetching skull emblem. Would you mind stretching your arms out, Mr. Black Gruntling?

Thank you. Did Gruntilda coordinate these outfits? I'd believe it - she has a great ensemble herself, replete with a gorgeous purple striped scarf. And this is the same lady who's decorated her entire lair with images of her own face, after all...

Shrapnel

These ornery armaments are in the tragic category of enemies whose only goal in life is to detonate directly next to you. It's fitting then that they're based on a naval mine, but they also (perhaps unintentionally?) resemble sea urchins! How fun!

Normally they look fairly docile, even cute with their little underbite, but when Banjo draws near they growl and do... this. You okay there, buddy?

They're also the only enemies that appear in every Banjo-Kazooie platformer game! Clearly Rare knew they had a winner on their hands. Look at their pretty colors in Banjo Tooie! Look, but don't touch, please. It won't end well for anybody.

Sir Slush

Anyone who's played Banjo-Kazooie will be familiar with these goons. Living snowmen are usually quite jolly, and Sir Slush is no exception, with his consistent and hearty laughter. However, instead of frolicking in the snow, all Sir Slush does is pelt our heroes with snowballs. Rude!

Similar to the platonic ideal of living snowman himself, Frosty the Snowman, the life force of Sir Slush seems to be concentrated in its hat. It's invulnerable to most forms of damage, but if Kazooie strikes its hat at high velocity, it will be blown into icy chunks. Is this a similar principle to the "aim-for-the-head" zombie-killing technique? Are snowmen not merely zombies, extra ice, hold the flesh? Human bodies are 70% water anyway! 

Slappa

Another classic bestiary staple, the living hand! Slappa are gargantuan mummified arm-hand combos that pop up without warning from the dusty sands of Gobi's Valley, the requisite desert level of Banjo-Kazooie. True to their name, their main method of attack is a slap, where they simply fall over, crushing anything in their path. The most confusing thing about Slappas is that they have the ability to speak - they laugh if they manage to land a hit, and groan in pain when defeated. How are you talking, Slappa? Do you have a mouth hidden under those bandages? Maybe a whole face?

Artist's interpretation

There also exists a single non-violent Slappa called Grabba, who clutches onto a Jiggy and hides underground with it if you get too close. Should you manage to grab it, they mention having had it for a thousand years, but then congratulate you on your technique. Of all the traits to be assigned to a mummified hand, "sportsmanlike" was not one I was expecting, but I'll gladly take it.

Tee-Hee

Another winner of a name! Tee-Hee! That's great! This design is great too, in my humble opinion. You wouldn't expect a ghost to have such a goblinoid appearance, but Tee-Hee delivers both flavors of common RPG monster at once in an elegant package. Naturally Tee-Hees can phase through walls and are invincible to most attacks, staples of any Game Ghost (TM), and their pursuit is marked with constant laughter. Admittedly their laugh is more of a "mua-ha-ha" than a "tee-hee", but I'm willing to forgive it.

There's also a purple version! This one ignores Banjo and Kazooie entirely, preferring to move around in square patterns. Don't worry, though, it still laughs a lot. What's so funny about squares? Only the purple Tee-Hee knows.

Grimlet

Appearing on a ship known as the Rusty Bucket, Grimlet will disguise themselves as ordinary pipes, only showing their eyes and fangs when Banjo and Kazooie draw near. Despite their metallic appearance, they can stretch their bodies way out to take a bite out of bears and birds alike. You know, I like this design, but I feel like it could be improved somehow. Hmm...

Ooh! The beta version of Grimlet has a really interesting twist- eyes in its own mouth! Of course, any monster is improved when it puts its peepers in its gullet, and Grimlet is no exception. Well, let's keep going! 

An even earlier screenshot shows them with white, human eyes... and with a fleshy inner maw... Nope, I don't like this one bit. Abort!

Ahhh... Much better. Now that's a sentient cowl ventilator that I'd let take a chunk out of me. No, I don't have a problem! Quiet, you!

Of course, there are many more denizens of the BK universe worthy of scrutiny - in a universe where even common collectibles will strike up a conversation with you, that's not surprising. In particular, a Banjo-Tooie showcase would be a lot of fun... But I have to stop myself somewhere. Until next time!

[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.

[holylulusworld]

True love

9000 followers celebration - sequels

Pairing: Thor x fem!Reader, former Steve Rogers x fem!Reader, former Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Characters: Wanda Maximoff, Tony Stark

Warnings: angst, self-doubts, comforting, fluff, Thor being a sweetheart, we talk a lot about roses, falling in love, angry Thor, soft Thor, cuddling & snuggling, implied smut

A/N: Sequel to: Wasted love

A/N: divider by @writeyourmindaway​​

Two weeks after you broke up with Steve and Bucky…

“You should eat something, Lady Y/N,” Thor knocks at your door once again. “My dove open the door, please. I know Captain Rogers and Sergeant Barnes hurt you deeply, but I’m worried about you.”

“Thor,” sighing you open the door, poking your head out, “I’m fine, promised. I just need more time to forget I wasted so much time on Steve and Bucky. I believed they love me, Thor. How could they do this to me?”

“I don’t know, my love but, if you are willing to let me in, I’d like to tell you about Asgard, my home,” Thor looks at you, offering you a single white rose. “Wanda told me the meaning of white roses, my dove.”

“Thor, you shouldn’t waste your time on me,” not giving in Thor enters your room when you open the door wider. “I’m not worth it.”

“Lady Y/N, never say things like that again,” he offers you the rose once more and you take it, sniffling silently. 

“What did she tell you about the meaning of a white rose, Thor?” you watch Thor sit on your sofa, huffing as the furniture creaks under his weight.

“Lady Wanda said that a white rose represents purity, innocence, and youthfulness,” you giggle at Thor’s serious expression. He holds out his hand to bring you into his arms. You squeak, giggling again as he wraps his strong arms around you to cradle you in his arms. “She also said that white roses are often associated with first love and eternal loyalty,” you look up at Thor, giving him a soft smile as he wipes your tears off your cheeks with his thumb.

“Eternal loyalty?” humming the Asgardian looks at you in his arms, a soft smile playing on his lips. “White roses can also symbolize a new beginning and everlasting love, Y/N. I want to give you all of it.”

“Thor, I just broke up with two guys,” you sigh deeply, head resting against Thor’s shoulder. “I don’t think you want what’s left of me. I’m a fool for love and got played well. Luckily I didn’t get pregnant,” Thor growls low in his throat, already imagining you round with his child.

“You’re not a fool for loving someone, my dove,” humming you close your eyes as Thor starts to talk about Asgard, his friends, Mjolnir, and how much your smile helped his broken heart to heal. “You deserve all the love in the world, Y/N. I will give it to you.”

Only moments later you sleep peacefully in Thor’s arms for the first time since you broke things off with Steve and Bucky. 

Two months later…

“No, Y/N,” Thor booms through the gym. “You will not back down only as they are here too,” the Asgardian slings one arm around your shoulders to lead you toward the treadmill. “You promised to help me train, my dove. We will ignore the men breaking your heart and have fun.”

“Fun?” you huff, looking around the gym. “Thor, training is no fun for me! I’m not a god or something. Everything aches after training, okay. Sometimes I even get a headache.”

“My love, I will rub your back and take care of you,” the smile Thor flashes you let Bucky and Steve fade into the background. “I will help you.”

“I’ll take your offer with pleasure,” you laugh as Thor scoops you up easily to carry you toward the treadmill. “Hey, what are you doing?” Instead of placing you onto your feet, Thor starts to run on the treadmill, you still in his arms.

“Training, my love,” Thor smirks, giving Bucky and Steve an angry look as they dared to look at you in his arms. “This way I’ll get stronger to protect you and you, my dove, won’t feel exhausted.”

“I like that kind of training,” you giggle, hiding your face in Thor’s chest. “Thank you.”

“Anytime, Y/N…”

Four months later…

“Oh. My. God,” you look at the huge bouquet of roses in Thor’s arms as he walks into the common room. “How many roses did you buy?” giggling you watch Thor’s eyes light up when you rush toward him to sniff at the roses.

“It’s your birthday, my little one,” Thor smiles widely. “Wanda said red roses symbolize love and romance. I want to show you someone is loving you. I will wait for you, my dove,” pressing one hand to your heart you miss Steve’s pained expression as you start to sob uncontrollably. 

“Oh, Thor,” you gasp when Thor hands you the roses. He brought two hundred and twenty-five and your legs give in. “Heavy.”

“Let me help you, Y/N,” Thor smirks at Bucky who gives him a bitch face as he doesn’t like Thor picks you up in bridal style to help you carry the roses toward your room. 

“We will need so many vases, Thor,” not taking your eyes off the roses you smile as Thor doesn’t even know how much his gesture means to you. “Thank you, Thor.”

“Anytime, my love…”

Six months later…

“That’s beautiful,” you knew about Thor’s powers, even saw him fight using thunder and lightning but when he illuminates the sky only for you your heart begins to flutter.

You don’t see Steve and Bucky sulk in a corner, watching you step closer to Thor to stand on tiptoes. The tall Asgardian watches you with an amused smile when you cup his face to press your lips clumsily to his chin.

“You’re too tall,” whining you look up at Thor. He doesn’t hesitate. His hands grasp for your waist to lift you easily. “Better,” your arms wrap around his neck before you press your lips softly against Thor’s. “That was the greatest thunder and lightning I ever saw.”

“You liked it, Y/N?” mumbling the words against your lips Thor wraps his arms around you. “I’ll always give you the most beautiful thunder and lighting if you want me to.”

“I want you to,” you breathe against his lips. “Just give me a bit more time. I feel safe and loved around you, but I’m still scared of loving someone again.”

“I will give you time, my love. Just asked me to be there and I will, anytime – my dove…”

Eight months later…

“You look beautiful tonight, my love,” Thor compliments, holding out his arm to lead you into the ballroom. Natasha and Wanda helped you decide on a ballgown. It’s a simple blue robe with a slit, revealing your left leg. “No other woman can compare to you,” you smile up at Thor like he’s the sun and Steve feels like someone punched him in the guts.

“I hate it,” Steve grumbles, grasping for yet another drink which won’t ease the feeling in his stomach. “She should’ve been ours.”

“She was yours, Capsicle,” Tony flashes your former lovers a smile. Hell, you let the girl go. I don’t want to know why you messed up, but you did. Let Y/N be happy. If you try to intervene or if I see you only staring into her direction to make her feel unease, I’ll look for a way to get my hands-on a cryostasis chamber.”

“Y/N shouldn’t be with him,” Bucky grunts. “We messed up, okay. No reason for her to fall in love with that alien punk,” Wanda snickers at Bucky’s words, still, she slaps the back of his head.

“If Tony doesn’t punish you for disturbing Y/N’s date, I’ll do so. She deserves happiness. None of you was ready to give her love and devotion. You are selfish little men who used her for their pleasure,” Wanda pokes her finger into Bucky’s chest, giving him a bitch face. “Thor is the one she needs to heal the wounds you caused. Now shush and let her have a dance with the man loving her unconditionally.”

Almost 12 months later…

“My dove, oh-All-father, help me not to fall more for my queen,” Thor groans, falling onto the mattress with a loud thud. His chest heaves up and down as you crawl up his body, flashing him a grin. “You defeated me, my love.”

“I like little one more,” you whine, hiding your face in Thor’s neck. “I never thought that I can defeat a god,” Thor grins, ogling your naked form on top of his sweat-slicked body. “But I did.”

“You did, my dove,” his large hand runs up and down your back, tickling you with featherlight touches. “What you did with your mouth and hands, and your secret garden was divine.”

“Did you just call my pussy a secret garden?” giggling you cup Thor’s face to press soft kisses to his chin. “I like it, my king.”

“My mother used to call it like that or it’s similar to the words she used in our tongue. It described the secrets a woman is hiding from other men. That she will only find true satisfaction and fulfillment with the rightful man by her side and inside of her.”

“That’s beautiful and kinda dirty at the same time. I like it, Thor,” you rest your head against his shoulder, closing your eyes to inhale his scent. “Thank you for giving me back my trust in love, Thor. I know that I can trust you with my heart.”

“You can, my little one,” Thor purrs, hands shamelessly moving to your ass to grope it. “Now that I tasted your nectar, I’m a helpless slave to you, my dove,” humming you slide your fingers over his chest, drawing patterns with your fingertips. “I never want to taste anyone else’s.”

“I don’t want anyone else to taste my,” you giggle again, looking up at Thor, “nectar either, my king.”

Now…

“A ring? He got her a ring?” Steve chokes on the water he tried to drink. “When did that happen? Why? And how?”

“Last week. He wants to propose as they love each other,” Wanda shrugs, hiding her smirk poorly. “That’s all I know.”

“I heard them last night,” Bucky sighs. “He said something about her secret garden or crap again. I still don’t know what this means.”

“You don’t want to know,” Steve grits out. “I guess, we must congratulate them sooner or later Buck. This is our doing. If only we saw her sooner.”

“You snooze you lose,” Wanda giggles, walking out of the common room.

“Or we could just snatch her out of his hands, Stevie,” Bucky grins, forming a plan. “I got an idea…”

“It’s beautiful, Thor. Stop saying the ring is not perfect,” you close your eyes when Thor wraps his arms around your waist. “I don’t want a better ring. This one shows your love and devotion to me, my king. I really like it.”

“My dove,” Thor looks at the ring he got from a gumball machine, “I wanted it to be perfect. The ring I got was perfect. Then those monsters stole it and I had no other choice but to give you this one,” he points toward the pink ring on your finger. “I will get you a better one.”

“No, I like it,” you whine. “Let me have this one. I don’t care if it’s made of plastic or gold. You are the man I love, and I will marry you. A diamond ring or not,” you glare at Bucky and Steve who awkwardly watch you and Thor. “Don’t think we do not know it was you.”

“My dove let me bring you to our room,” Thor booms before a bolt of lightning strikes right next to Steve and Bucky. “Our bond is unbroken. Leave us be.”

“We lost,” Bucky hangs his head in shame. “How could I steal the ring? I’m no better than a criminal,” Steve nods, watching you and Thor walk toward your room. 

“Let’s give it back, apologize, and wish them well. Y/N, she looks happy, Buck. Happier than with us,” admitting his defeat Steve looks at his friend. “We need to admit, Thor is Y/N’s true love, not us.”

“I hate it – but you’re right, Stevie…”

----

“I like it! I don’t want the other ring, Thor,” you purse your lips when Thor offers you the diamond ring Bucky and Steve gave back. “Let me keep this one till our wedding day. I like it.”

“I will do anything for you, anytime, my love…”

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[starshine583]

New Girl on the Block (4)

(Y’all ready to read the next update??? Enjoy part four of this fic and if you’re interested, feel free to check out the mini series connected to this called the Journal Entries. It’s just little journal snippets from the two dorks that I decided to write for fun :D)

Ch.1 / Ch.3 / Ch.5

Chapter 4: Get to Know You

Marinette slipped on her white, non-flour-covered leather jacket and pushed her pigtails back so they wouldn’t be tucked into her outfit. She then smoothed out her pink dress with a smile, admiring the black flowers that she’d stitched along the bottom. This dress had been one of her stress-relieving projects, but it turned out quite well, in her opinion.

Once Papa had finished teaching her friends how to fold the dough, he put their croissants into the fridge to chill them and instructed everyone to go upstairs and wash up. Marinette dutifully took them up to her room where her personal bathroom was and taught them how to use the shower, but when she tried to lead one of them to her parent’s bathroom as well, they insisted that she take a shower there herself. 

“What kind of gentlemen would we be if we forced the ladies to wait on us?” Claude had said light-heartedly, though she could tell he meant it. Allegra’s smirk as she walked in the bathroom to take a shower first was proof of that. 

The notion had warmed Marinette’s heart, coaxing a giggle from her each time she thought about it. It might be hard to see sometimes, but Claude, Allan, and Felix truly were a considerate and chivalrous group of boys. 

Now, She’s finished her shower in her parent’s bathroom and gone back up to her bedroom, where Allegra, Claude, and Allan had been patiently waiting. Allegra was nice and clean again, wearing the long, purple shirt and black leggings that Marinette had given her, and Claude appeared to have just exited the shower, his damp hair sticking to his face and dripping across his borrowed, black and blue “O.K” shirt. Allan was still covered in flour.

Allegra smiled at Marinette from her spot on the chaise as she re-braided her long, golden blonde hair. “Thanks for the extra clothes, Mari! These are amazing.”

“Yeah!” Claude agreed enthusiastically, holding out his with a grin. “This shirt is awesome!”

Marinette glanced down to hide her blush. “I-It’s the least I could do.”

“We still appreciate it.” Allan replied.

“Oh!” Marinette said, suddenly thinking about the fact that Allan was still covered in flour. “Allan, do you want to use Maman’s shower? You don’t have to stand around waiting for Felix.”

That who she assumed was occupying the shower, anyway. The water was still running, and everyone but Felix was present. 

Allan waved a hand. “Nah, it’s fine. I’ll be getting a shower soon if Felix would hurry up.”

Marinette chuckled at Allan’s obvious call to Felix, even more so when Felix shouted back from the bathroom, “You’re the one that let me go first!”

“I didn’t know you would take a day and a half!” 

“That’s still your fault then, isn’t it?” Felix shot back.

Allan scoffed and crossed his arms, causing Marinette to offer her parent’s shower again out of guilt. She had been the one to throw flour on him, after all.

“Are you sure you don’t want to-”

The bathroom door swung open, effectively cutting Marinette off, and Felix stepped out with one hand on his hip and the other hand on the towel that was draped across his head. He shot Allan a glare, practically growling the words, “There. I’m out. Are you happy?”

“Delighted.” Allan responded sarcastically.

Marinette might have been concerned about the growing conflict had she not been focused on Felix’s outfit. Or rather, how well it suited him. The black, three-quarter-sleeved shirt that she’d given him, along with the plaid green, button-up shirt she’d provided to go underneath, clung to his waist, revealing his surprisingly slender figure. The dark grey jeans he wore in place of his dress pants didn’t fit the outfit exactly, but they worked well enough, and Marinette eagerly started taking mental notes for future adjustments.

Allan grabbed his clothes and walked into the bathroom, while Felix glared daggers at him until the bathroom door closed. 

“Woah~” Allegra crowed, easily breaking the tension. “You should wear casual outfits more often, Felix. They really suit you.”

Claude smirked. “No kidding. I swear you’ve worn the same suit for the whole two years we’ve known.”

Felix turned his glare to Claude with a scoff. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’ve worn plenty of suits, each one made differently.”

Allegra snorted. “That wasn’t.. That was not the point, Felix.”

Felix narrowed his eyes, the barest hint of confusion finding its way to his features, and Marinette took that opportunity to speak up.

“How’s the outfit? Does it fit alright?” She asked. Hopefully she can find the original measurements for the outfit if it does fit fine, because Felix was most likely going to become a regular customer. Maybe he wouldn’t hire her for actual commissions, but she might end up making something for him on impulse. (as you do)

Felix caught her eye, his glare slowly fading as he registered her question.

“The fabric is extremely comfortable, and the clothes fit perfectly.” He said after a moment. “You said you made these?”

She nodded. “With my sewing machine. I was thinking of putting a green paw print on the shirt too, but I haven’t gotten around to it.”

Felix hummed, idly pulling his towel from on top of his head to around his shoulders. “I see. Thank you for lending them to me.”

Marinette blinked, suddenly finding herself captivated by the way his hair fell across his face. Still being damp, various strands stuck to his forehead and cheeks, and he reached up to brush them away. This brought her attention to his face, which, for some reason, she hadn’t quite noticed before. The defined jawline, the subtle-yet-there cheek bones, the pointed nose- all of his features were sharp. Even his eyes held a silver tint to them that reminded her of steel. 

These observations dragged her to one, rather important revelation: Felix Culpa was actually a fairly handsome person.

“Marinette?” Felix said, drawing her from her thoughts. “Are you alright?”

A rush of heat swarmed her cheeks, and Marinette straightened. “W-what? I mean yes! Yeah, I’m totally fine, I.. yes.”

“Hey, speaking of clothes!” Claude piped up, graciously saving Marinette from her own awkwardness. “How’s my prince costume going?”

Marinette twirled around in her rolling chair and grabbed for her sketching notebook. A distraction was definitely something she needed right now.

“I’ve got a few different ideas, but you need to come tell which one you like best.” She explained as she flipped open the notebook.

Claude hopped up from the stray chest he’d been sitting on and practically bounced over to her seat. She let him scan each page, smiling when he started humming “Ooh’s” and “Aah’s”.

“I can only pick one?! But they’re all so good!” Claude remarked, almost exasperated.

Marinette chuckled. “Well.. I guess I can make all of them for you, but you at least need to choose which one I start on.”

Claude gasped. “You mean you’re going to make all of these for me?”

“It’s going to take a month or so to get them all done.” She warned. “But-”

Claude scooped her into a bone-crushing hug, briefly reminding her of her father. “Thank you, Mari! Thank you, thank you, thank you! You’re the best!”

Marinette laughed and gave him a light pat on the arm. “You’re welcome.”

Her smile widened as Claude eagerly grabbed the notebook and ran back to his designated chest to look through the drawing again. It was nice to see someone who was also enthusiastic about fashion. She’d gotten tired of talking to people who simply didn’t understand the hype of creating unique styles of clothing. 

“You know he’s never going to leave you alone now, right?” Felix commented next to her.

Marinette offered him a glance as she said, “I think I can live with that.”

Felix shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

She smiled at that. Felix may be striking, but that didn’t have to change anything. Lots of people were striking. And lots of people remained friends despite that.

“Oh,” Felix muttered, seeming to remember something, “Where do you want me to put my clothes? They’re still in the bathroom because of Allan, but..”

“Uhm.. I think Maman said she was going to wash them.” Marinette answered. “She wanted to try to get them clean before supper for all of you.”

“Ah, supper.” Claude cut in, heaving a jokingly wistful sigh. “I can’t wait for that. If your mom’s croissants can taste that heavenly, then her full meals must be amazing.”

He sunk against the chest for emphasis, not realizing that there was a gap between the chest and the wall. The sudden weight threw the chest off balance, and it tipped forward, causing Claude to get jerked backwards. He flailed his arms briefly and yelped before crashing to the floor. The front of the chest hit the ground as well, and the impact popped it open, scattering various objects across the floor.

“Oh, Claude!”

“Are you okay?” 

The girls rushed to his side to help him up, but Felix shot him a flat look.

“First the kitchen and now her bedroom.” He said curtly. “Should we tear up the living room next? Or perhaps the dining room has more fragile items?”

Allegra rolled her eyes. “Felix, can you at least try to be sympathetic.”

“I am being sympathetic. Marinette doesn’t have the money to replace things at the drop of a hat like we do. It’s rude to behave so recklessly in her home.”

Marinette glanced up at Felix, not sure whether to find his words sweet or offensive. “Trust me, it’s fine. This chest is old anyway.”

Felix’s frown told her that he didn’t agree on the matter, but before he could argue further, the bathroom door swung open again.

“What happened?” Allan asked, his hair still dripping wet. “I heard the crash. Is anyone hurt?”

“Only my pride.” Claude groaned in response. He was sitting up now and rubbing his head as Allegra switched between scolding and coddling.

Allan sighed with relief. “Oh, good. You can’t hurt something that’s not there.”

“Hey!”

Marinette giggled at the comment. “Allan, how is your outfit? Do I need to make any adjustments?”

Allan glanced down at his clothes. She’d given him a maroon shirt with a blue heartbeat line in the center, a black and blue shirt to go underneath, and a pair of black jeans. He didn’t appear to be wearing the second shirt, though.

“Oh, they fit great.” He said, twisted his torso a bit to get a better feel for the new clothes. “I didn’t have time to put on the second shirt, though. I heard the crash and panicked.”

Marinette offered him a smile. “That’s fine. I can just put it back in the closet.”

Allan nodded and looked down at the mess. “So Claude spilled this chest?”

“Yeah, he was being an idiot.” Allegra remarked as she picked up one of the trinkets. “You know. Nothing new.”

“Wow. can you guys lay off for two seconds?” Claude huffed. He reached forward to pick up one of the objects as well, curiosity overtaking his annoyance. “What is all of this stuff, anyway?”

Marinette glanced at the miscellaneous objects to check- she had several trunks that acted as ‘junk drawers’ -and immediately cringed when she recognized a black hat with rainbow colors stitched along the bottom.

“Oh..” It was Adrien’s gift chest. She’d almost forgotten that she had it. “They’re, um.. They’re just crafts, really.”

“Just crafts?” Claude repeated, holding up a crocheted Ladybug doll. “These are awesome!”

Marinette watched them for a moment. “...do you want them?”

The group looked up in shock, and Marinette quickly added, “Y-You don’t have to take them! I’ve just.. Uh.. they’re like junk? I mean, not junk, but this is my junk chest.. Sort of. I’ve just been meaning to get rid of them. So if you want them, you can have them.” 

Allegra frowned. “Are you sure? It looks like you put a lot of effort into these.”

Marinette nodded. “Positive. Take whatever you want.”

Although hesitant at first, the group continued to look through the gifts, and little by little, they started to take some. A smile came to Marinette’s lips as she watched the pile of Adrien junk dwindle. She had spent a lot of time on making the presents, but there was no way she’d be giving them to Adrien now. So what was the point of keeping them in her room? To serve as a mocking reminder of how blind she had been while loving him? No thanks.

By the time they were done, the chest only had half the gifts it used to, and Marinette quickly decided that she would donate the leftovers once she got the chance. 

“Thanks for the stuff, Mari!” Claude said cheerfully, his hands full of various objects.

Allegra nodded, holding a few things herself. “Yeah, you really do spoil us.”

“Which is saying something, considering we’re rich.” Allan teased, pocketing the two items that he’d decided to snatch. 

Marinette chuckled. “You’re helping me more than I am you.”

She stood up and walked to the bathroom to grab the boys’ old clothes. “I’m gonna bring these down to Maman, but feel free to look around until I get back.”

The group voiced their agreements, and Marinette climbed down the trapdoor ladder with the pile of clothes in hand, feeling like another weight had been lifted off of her shoulders.

Getting rid of Adrien’s gifts was one more step towards happiness, and she couldn’t wait to keep walking.

~~~~~~

One can tell a lot about a person by their bedroom. How clean they were, whether they were sentimental, which things they found important- a bedroom could quite literally be considered a box in which someone stored their entire personality. That’s why Felix had been anticipating this part of the visit. Someone can be a master manipulator, but their room would always show their true selves. And it only took one look for Felix to know..

Marinette really loved the color pink.

Seriously, she had it everywhere. The walls, the furniture, the carpet- How was she not sick of the color by now? Felix was sick of it, and he’d only been there for about twenty minutes!

Pushing the pink thought aside, he continued poking around her room. Marinette had gone downstairs to pass his clothes off to her mother, so that gave him a bit of time to inspect the space unsupervised. Not that he was planning on doing anything scandalous. It merely gave him the opportunity of observing Marinette’s room on his own terms.

When she told him that her room was up in the attic, he’d been understandably shocked. The attic didn’t sound like a spacious place to sleep, let alone work on homework and other personal things. Seeing it now, though, Felix realized that that wasn’t the case. The attic was actually quite open. There was a desk, a closet, various chests, a bathroom, and she still had a good portion of the room empty. He wondered if that was thanks to the original size of the room or thanks to Marinette’s resourcefulness.

Her cleaning style wasn’t too bad, either. Don’t get him wrong, there were things scattered everywhere, but it was a specific type of scattered, like an organized chaos. He had a feeling that she knew where most of her necessities were. 

Felix moved to her desk, where most of the mess was focused. There were papers, sewing needles, scraps of fabric, and pencils spread across the surface. Her interest in fashion certainly shined through, as most of the papers were filled with various sketches and measurements. He found that admirable. When someone usually speaks of their ‘dream job’, they speak of it as a fantasy, one that they never intend to fully pursue, but Marinette was obviously reaching as high as she could to grasp her goal. She even had a mannequin in her room.

“Marinette’s room is so cool!” Claude exclaimed from the loft up top. “She even has a balcony!”

Felix glanced upwards, briefly setting the papers he’d been studying aside. There’s a balcony upstairs? He didn’t recall seeing a balcony on the way in.

“Claude, you have a balcony.” Allegra reminded him with an amused smile.

“Yeah, but mine only extends from the side of the building.” Claude defended. “This one’s on the roof!”

Ah, so that’s why Felix hadn’t seen it.

Allan frowned. “Really? Isn’t that a little dangerous?”

“It’s got a rail.” 

“Oh, okay. That’s fine then.”

Allegra chuckled as she brushed her hands against the hat on Marinette’s mannequin. “Marinette’s room is pretty neat, though.”

“I think it’s just Marinette who’s cool.” Allan remarked.

Allegra and Claude heartily agreed, and Felix nodded. “Cool” probably wouldn’t be the exact word that he’d use to describe her, but overall, it wasn’t far off.

“Can you believe we’ve only known her for a week?” Claude asked as he climbed down to their level. “It feels like we’ve known her forever already.”

“Yeah, but I think that’s just how she is.” Allegra smiled. “She draws you in and makes you feel like family.”

“Her parents are the same way.” Allan said. “You can really tell where she gets it from.”

“Where who gets what from?” 

Felix, along with the rest of the group, turned to the trapdoor, where Marinette was standing about halfway through. She didn’t have the clothes anymore, but she did have a tray of drinks.

“Oh, it’s nothing.” Allegra said dismissively. “What are those?”

Marinette set the tray on the ground long enough to climb through and close the trapdoor as she explained, “Maman and Papa thought you guys might be thirsty, so she sent me up with a bunch of different drinks to choose from.”

“Sweet!” Claude grinned, swiftly walking over in case she needed help. “Do you have Dr. Pepper?”

Marinette smiled and turned the tray to reveal a deep red can of soda. “Yep! I know it’s your favorite.”

“You truly are a blessing.” Claude replied, grabbing the soda off of the tray.

Marinette giggled and brought the tray forward for the rest of them to pick. Allegra chose a pepsi, while Allan snagged a coke, and Felix grabbed the slim cup of coffee that sat to the side.

He took a sip of it, enjoying the warmth of the bitter liquid. It didn’t escape his notice that Marinette had brought up all of their preferred drinks. She even got his coffee right (Black with three sugars). 

Despite how scatter-brained she could be, Marinette still paid attention to details, which was impressive. Felix didn’t know anyone else who could space out during an entire conversation, yet remember the exact type of drink everyone ordered during lunch.

“So what do you guys want to do now? We still have about half an hour before supper is finished.” Marinette asked, setting the tray aside. 

Allan shrugged. “What do you have?”

Marinette thought for a moment. “Well, we have board games, card games, Mecha Strike 3-”

“Mecha Strike 3?” Claude perked up. “Yes, please!”

Marinette laughed. “Is everyone else okay with that?”

“Sounds great.” Allan smiled.

Allegra shrugged. “I’m fine with it.” 

Felix, being satisfied with his inspection for now, sat down on the chaise. “I’ll watch.”

The rest of the group huddled around Marinette’s computer while she turned it on, and after a bit of debating, they decided on ‘winner faces next player’ and started with Allan and Claude. Felix watched the first two games, just long enough to see Marinette cream Allan, before reverting back to his studious ways. He scanned the bedroom again, hoping to catch something new, when his gaze landed on the trunk that Claude had tipped over earlier. With everyone bustling around it, Felix hadn’t gotten a chance to sift through it, but now that they were occupied with Marinette’s game..

Felix shifted in his seat and re-opened the chest. It was only half full, as opposed to its previously overflowing contents, but that didn’t bother him. There were still plenty of things inside, such as shirts, figurines, hats, and other things. He pulled out a jacket and turned it in his hands, admiring the handiwork. The hood, along with the cuffs of the sleeves and zipper were pitch black, but the rest of the jacket was a deep red, save for the black spots that littered it. “Miraculous” was written on the back in cursive as well. Was this supposed to be based off of the Parisian superhero Ladybug? Why would she want to get rid of this? At the very least, she could make a profit by selling it.

What did she use to make this? The material is so soft.. Felix thought as he unzipped the jacket. It was completely black on the inside, save for some tiny, golden lettering near the section wear the pocket would be.

“To: Adrien

From: Marinette”

Felix frowned. How strange. Why would Marinette be giving away things that she made specifically for someone else? He dug through the chest some more, this time looking for names, and what he found was shocking. 

Almost every gift had the name ‘Adrien’ on it somewhere, whether it be a card or stitching or marker. Some gifts didn’t have a name, but at that point, Felix felt it was safe to assume that everything in the chest was supposed to be for this ‘Adrien’ person. 

That begged the question, though: Who was Adrien? And why would she create so many gifts for him just to give them away?

A small card stitched on the ear of a stuffed cat gave him his answer.

“Dear Adrien, 

Happy 19th birthday! It’s officially been five years since we’ve known each other. Isn’t that crazy? Anyway, I just wanted to say happy birthday (even though I’ve already said it) and that I’m really happy we got to meet. Enjoy the cat!

With all my love, Marinette”

Felix glanced up at Marinette, who was blissfully ignorant of his findings as she defeated Claude for the second time at Mecha Strike 3. Did she intend to use all of these as birthday presents? How many gifts were in there? Did she expect this person to have the same interests twenty years from now? He couldn’t decide if this level of planning was due to over-thinking or just plain obsession. Maybe both.

“Hey, Felix!” 

Felix flinched at the sudden call of his name, weirdly feeling as if he’d been caught in the act of some crime. He looked up to see Claude waving a controller at him.

“Are you sure you don’t want to play?” The brunette asked.

“Talk to me when you have chess.” Felix replied shortly, going back to the chest. He had hoped that seeing Marinette’s room would provide more answers to her life, but it only issued more questions. Did she have this amount of gifts for all of her friends or was Adrien special? If he was special, what way would it be? Was he possibly an ex-lover? She dated him for a while, and they had a recent falling out, which was why she was getting rid of the gifts. That would make sense.

“He just wants to talk.”

Her words from last week resurfaced in his mind. The person who chased her that day was the only one she reacted bitterly towards. Was Adrien trying to get back together with her? 

Was he the reason she left her old school in the first place?

My, my Dupain-Cheng. Felix thought. Aren’t you just full of secrets?

Tag List:  @artbyknigit @athena452 @nickristus-dreamer @throneoffirebreathingbitchqueen @arsaem @abrx2002 @neakco @pawsitivelymiraculous @too0bsessedformyowngood @nathleigh @lusicing @officiallydarkgeek @all-mights-asscheeks @tbehartoo @woe-is-me0 @raeuberprinzessin @lazuli-11 @miss-chaos27 @trippingovermyfeet @sadpotatoondrugs @ladybug-182 @jaggedheart11 @marinahrasauce

[night-unfurls-its-splendour]

The Critique of Manners Part VI

~Or~

An Attempt at an Objective Review of Emma (2009)... VOLUME TWO

Haha, bitches you didn't think I could wait a whole week did you? Nah, not me. and guys, I added to it--all total, it's 9,023 words now. this half of the review is 5,214. HOW DO I HAVE SO MANY WORDS FOR THIS THING? I'm not gonna split it into a third part, because I don't need to for picture limit purposes, but buckle in.

If you didn't catch it, read part 1 here

Here it is, the stunning conclusion to my Emma Adaptation Review series (but this isn't really the end because I plan on doing some rankings later). In this half of my review of BBC'S Emma (2009) we'll discuss Costumes and all the very specific things that I love about this version, and some things I don't like, and some things I'm here to defend.

Let's dive in!

Costumes

Generally I liked these costumes pretty well. They were designed and facilitated by Rosalind Ebbutt, also known for her work on PBS’s Victoria and Vanity Fair (1998). And her work is, as her filmography would suggest, by turns, great and so-so.

These costumes are definitely in line with the adaptation’s general aesthetic: warm pinks and golds, with mints emeralds and blues to cool it off a little, are the order of the day. I really appreciate that every character has a definite color palette. The tradeoff is that this adaptation is the WORST EVER offender for the Jane Fairfax Blue™ trope.

Daywear

Emma’s daywear is full of warm and muted colors. Salmon and magenta are commonly seen. I love that most of Emma’s daywear consists of sleeveless or short-sleeved gowns with wide-sleeved linen blouses underneath. It’s not a commonly seen aesthetic so it feels light and fresh. My favorite of Emma’s daywear dresses is the pale yellow with purple floral print.

There’s one other in particular that I love.

Emma’s blue, sleeveless dress. I love this because of HOW OBVIOUSLY it’s a reference to this portrait of Charlotte, Princess of Wales. I mean...

I’M NOT IMAGINING THIS, RIGHT? WHY DOES NO ONE TALK ABOUT THIS? This is a REAL dress. They still have this exact gown of Princess Charlotte’s. It’s on display. It’s faded, but it’s the same dress.

Harriet has a fresh and innocent green, white and purple color scheme with healthy doses of peach and pink showing. I particularly like her white and purple floral print dress.

Mrs. Weston’s color palette varies, but leans heavily on tans and purples, which is very flattering, I must say, to Johdi May’s coloring and is really refreshing for Mrs. Weston who seems to get stuck in pinks and yellows a lot. No idea what’s going on with the laced-front dress though? This doesn’t quite read as authentic to me, but I do like that her first dress seems to be an apron-front.

I know I already said that this is the worst Jane Fairfax Blue™ offender, but guys I can’t stress it enough. WE ARE 5/5 ON DAYWEAR HERE. LOOK AT THAT. (Also of note, Jane 5 is one of Gwyneth Paltrow’s dresses from the '96 Emma.)

Mrs. Elton seems, at all times, to be wearing some form of pink, but I think I’m right in saying that the white day dress with the rose patterned bodice under the yellow and pink spencer is one of Jane’s dresses from P&P ’80. Can anyone confirm that? They did sneak in some Mrs. Elton Orange™ though, for Box Hill, and it’s worth noting that Mrs. Elton is the only lady who’s appropriately dressed on that occasion.

Isabella gets some understated day gowns that are very nice and also VERY “Jane Austen” in the sense that I feel like Jane Austen herself might have worn them.

Miss Bates, unfortunately is slapped with brown at just about every turn, but at least her “Nice” day outfit has some subtle leaf patterns, which is refreshing. Also Mrs. Goddard has a slappin’ cap. Love that.

Also, Harriet’s Grecian costume for the painting (upper right hand corner). What can I say, but that I love it. I love that it hints at the neoclassical influences on Regency fashion too. This is my favorite interpretation of the painting too.

Evening Wear

You know what I love about this version? It’s the first version of Emma where her gown for the Crown in Ball isn’t WHITE. I know, I know white was fashionable, but it’s just… it’s nice for not EVERY gown in a ball scene to be plain white friggin muslin and also, it’s not one she’s ever worn before, which is great.

Harriet does have only white evening gowns but that’s okay. My only complaint is that, specifically on her Crown Inn dress and in a lot of her costumes in general, the waistline seems just a little low. Hmm. I really like the pale blue pattern on her first evening dress though.

Mrs. Weston though. Woo. Look at those. She has a dark chartreuse gown with black lace trim that any other version would have put on Mrs. Elton, so you know from the dark tones that she’s a bitch. Not so with Emma '09, and that’s good. And her teal dinner number is a favorite of mine. I never paid much attention to her green and gold ball gown but it has some really beautiful, subtle leaf or maybe peacock feather patterns on it and I love that. My only problem is that there seem to be some fit issues. She’s got muffin top way too often. Her orange evening dress is a bit of a dud though, firstly, because it has long sleeves (which is an evening gown no-no) and the fabric slaps a bit too much of sari fabric for my tastes.

Jane, not only is put in blue with both of her evening gowns (although one is so pale it borders on white), ONE of them is another Emma ’96 repeat and not only that, it’s one of Jane Fairfax’s dresses in that film! Perhaps that’s enough to make it an homage, and I have to say, I think Laura Pyper wore it better.

Miss Bates only has one evening wear ensemble, but at least it’s cream and not brown.

Mrs. Elton’s gowns are surprisingly understated, and yet still seem to be annoyingly fussy and, what’s better? They’re not sickly green. One of them is actually a very pleasant mint.

Outerwear

Outerwear is roundly pretty great here. Emma’s primary choice of color for spencers is emerald/evergreen and one of them is Elizabeth’s Bennet’s from the 1995 P&P (though to be honest, I think Jennifer Ehle filled it out better.) I do love Mrs. Elton’s pink and yellow number with the slashed sleeves. Jane Fairfax’s only spencer is, you guessed it, blue, but her friend Miss Campbell has a rather fun mauve one.

There’s no shortage of pelisses and redingotes either. Harriet can be seen in one borrowed from Elinor Dashwood in the '08 S&S, Mrs. Weston has a rather fabulous purple one which she wears with the most delicious looking hat I’ve ever seen.

Emma has two. The first one is a great magenta number with military braiding (and I think she wears with it one of the brown slouch hats that Kate Beckinsale wore in the same role) and while the other pelisse is brown, they had the sense not to make her wear a hat with it that was also brown. Instead, they gave her a contrasting color. Good on ya, Rosalind!

Speaking of hats, I don't often single them out for commentary, but I want to here because… the hat authenticity is… kinda spotty. Let me show you.

Okay first of all, Emma may be a teenager in this pic on the upper left, but she is not dressed formally enough for her sister’s wedding (which is what’s going on in this scene) but at least her hat is pretty good. You can see the ribbons are on the inside of the hat here, which is as it should be… but she never wears this hat again. At any point in the series. Instead, we next see her in the one on the upper right and ye gads this is atrocious. WHY IS HER HAT NOT PINNED ON? IT’S SLIDING DOWN THE BACK OF HER HEAD. SOMONE FIX IT. PLEASE. But wait, there’s more. This kills me because these bottom two are so similar to the one she wore earlier (the correct one) but crappier looking. Jeez.

This is not a hat. It’s a peanut. You know who doesn’t have this problem? Harriet. She only has one sun hat but at least it’s correct.

I also wanna touch briefly on this ^ costume continuity issue.

WTF is this? She’s in the hall, her ribbon is contoured to the line of her dress; she goes into the drawing room and… it isn’t anymore? Wha happun?

I took more menswear screencaps for this version than any other version. And that’s because the men just have more outfits that are, y’know, different from each other.

Mr. Knightley is as understated as ever, but I wanna highlight the first pic there and why I love it. This is Knightley’s first appearance in the series and it’s the perfect establishing shot that shows the viewer everything they need to know about Emma and Knightley’s relationship and how it has always been. He sort of materializes, out of focus in the background, but Emma immediately knows he’s there. And to accentuate how much Knightley is part of her home and scenery, his clothes (similar shades of pale tan, white and minty green to the wall behind him) almost camouflage him and make him seem at one with the moulding.

He also has a rather lovely blue evening waistcoat that I WISH I could have gotten better shot of (although I do believe it’s also worn by Henry Crawford in the '07 Mansfield Park, so for further reading…)

Mr. Weston finally gets to wear clothes that aren’t all brown! He only has ONE brown outfit. He gets PATTERNED waistcoats, one of them a rather spiffing blue and brown striped number. And he wears TROUSERS! Because he’s a gentleman, and he’s not that old and trousers are worn by fashionable gentlemen in this period!

You know who else gets to wear trousers and at least one fun waistcoat? Mr. Woodhouse. Check out that lovely Sunday Best™ waistcoat. The red striped one. That’s delightful.

John Knightley’s evening wear intrigues me. That’s a double-breasted jacket, and you know I’m not totally sure that’s very authentic for evening-wear of this period, but it is different. Unfortunately he also has a flared top hat and that is definitely not on for this period.

One of my favorite things about this version is that they don’t dress Mr. Elton as a clergyman all the time. Yes, he may be the vicar, but he’s also allowed to dress like a fashionable, handsome young man. So I’m really happy that he gets to flex his fashion muscles here.

And speaking of fashionable young men, FINALLY frank gets to be COLORFUL and his trousers are even tight enough. Both he AND Elton are often seen wearing TWO waistcoats, as I would expect them to, and even though Frank’s a dandy, he knows that flashiness is gauche so his pops of color are bright, but not in your face. His green and red waistcoats are always worn under more muted colors, and I just love it.

The only problems are… what’s with the turned-down waistcoat collars? There’s no precedent for this, in fact I think it’s directly contradictory to the style at the time, and also it makes the cravats look a bit unruly.

A Critique of Manners

A lot has been said about the manners in this adaption. Like, the actual manners, body language and facial expressions, specifically vis-à-vis Romola Garai.

And, oh yeah, there’s a lot to pick at here, but first I’d like to talk about the facial expressions.

I'm mostly gonna be talking out of my ass here, but this is my take, so if anyone can make a better argument against my points, I am listening, because I don't really like talking out of my ass and I like to be informed. That said...

I tend to be lenient on the… exaggerated facial expressions because, something I’ve noticed reading Austen’s works through the last several months is that Austen is very descriptive when it comes to facial expressions and I just find it hard to believe that people in the Regency Era never made exaggerated expressions like this.

I’ve heard a lot about how Garai’s Emma is not dignified or lady-like. But let’s think about the context of Emma Woodhouse – she’s never been in society. She’s only had a governess to teach her, and we know Emma’s always been sort of averse to being told what she can and can’t do. Emma is the highest ranking woman in her social circle (barring Isabella’s occasional presence). Emma doesn’t have to be ladylike. At 21, she’s already her local Lady Catherine. She puts a lot of stock in her position in society but, as Mrs. Elton will be the first to hypocritically point out, she’s very poorly behaved. I'd be very curious to see what would happen if Emma went to London for the season. Probably, she'd be seen, comparatively, as a country bumpkin. Can you imagine how she might get on in a sea of accomplished young ladies? She can barely handle having ONE rival with any kind of grace.

Austen never describes bodily movements of the kind we’re looking at when we watch adaptations, so why not have Emma’s body-language be un-ladylike in the conventional sense of the time? I’m not saying this to excuse the absolutely inexcusable (Frank’s head in her lap, kneeling on the sofa backwards etc.), but while Emma’s mannerisms aren’t exactly ladylike for her time, they’re not overtly masculine either (which was one of my biggest problem with Death Comes to Pemberly for example.)

Yes, there’s an ideal for manners. But we know real people didn’t always follow those ideals. In dancing for example, many dancing guidebooks of the day were full of repeated instructions not to be too loud or rambunctious when dancing. What this tells us is that people were doing just that, and probably quite a bit, too. I think that, while taking societal strictures into account, we shouldn’t totally discount the idea that people in the Regency weren’t really that different from us, and young people especially.

Now I’ve already mentioned some of the inexcusable aspects of interaction in this adaptation and they’re so notorious at this point, I don’t think that I really need to go over them much here. Although I will say: is it ridiculous to have Frank Churchill put his head in Emma’s lap? Yes. Did it make me more viscerally uncomfortable with the situation on Box Hill than any other version? Yes.

I was like, 14 when I watched this the first time. This was an effective way to telegraph to young people like me that Emma is being extremely inappropriate here in a way that no other version really managed to, even when I watched them when I was older and understood the period more. I’m far more acquainted with Regency manners than I was then, but to be honest – if they had been accurate with the manners here, when I was 14 I would not have understood what the big deal was. Is there merit in circumventing historical accuracy in favor of reaching a less-informed but still-interested audience? Yes, I think so. There were three other versions of this, at that point, that did this scene with more or less pristine manners. Not every version has to follow the manners of the time to-the-letter to be good. That’s my feeling on the matter.

There are things that do really bother me though. Like the idea that Harriet Smith doesn’t know how to spoon soup, for instance. As I said in my review for the Miramax version, table manners are pretty basic, there’s no reason Mrs. Goddard wouldn’t have taught Harriet this. It does provide a good moment to show Emma tacitly coaching Harriet and showing the trajectory in which this relationship will go, but personally I don’t think it was necessary—there are plenty of other ways that could be done.

Also: kids at the dinner table? I know this is part of building the familial atmosphere but it really does annoy me, because apart from building the familial atmosphere (which they do very well and frequently in other ways) it really didn’t need to happen, and it doesn’t add anything.

The Heart of Highbury

So, as I’ve hinted at throughout this review, the bread and butter of this adaptation of Emma is emotion. This version goes hard and heavy on showingthe relationships – Emma’s relationships with Mrs. Weston, Mr. Knightley, her father, her sister, her brother-in-law, Miss Bates; Jane’s relationship with Frank; Frank’s relationship with his father; The John Knightleys’ home life – and it illustrates things that can be surmised from just reading the story, but really draws your attention to them in ways that other adaptations just don’t.

It does this from the very beginning with the prologue which explains in detail (not just in quick exposition between characters) how Jane and Frank were separated from their families at young ages. We know now, from psychological study, that being taken away from their primary caretakers during their formative years is one of the most psychologically traumatizing things for a child. This is deeply important context which is explained in detail by the narrator in 2-3 large pages (in my Barnes & Noble anthology) in the book.

In the featurette on the houses, they talk particularly about Hartfield and the Woodhouses being the heart of Highbury and how they particularly wanted it to feel homey because Hartfield is Emma’s house and they wanted the audience to feel why everyone is so drawn to it, and to Emma; to me that is what they did with the whole adaptation in microcosm.

I usually talk a bit about the dancing and I'm going to here as well because this is maybe the most special dance scene in any Austen for me. Of course I'm going to link to Tea with Cassiane as usual because she knows what she's talking about and I don't. But I wanna add some comments. She gives this a pretty low rating in spite of a generally favorable commentary because of two big oopsies, the circle dance formation is one, and the other is I believe, an issue with the style of dance not matching the tune in Emma's dance with Knightley. Throwing out any objective technical analysis though, this is my favorite Ball in any Austen and it all comes down to the cornerstone of this adaptation--emotion.

All of the songs and dances were original compositions and choreography made for this adaptation. So they're not period per se, but the tunes at least are representative of how Regency dance music should sound. These dances are upbeat, and lively and, damn they look like fun. Everyone is excited here and it makes me understand why dancing was such a big thing. Best of all that excitement adds to the emotional charge of the scene. "The Ship's Cook" is the most fast paced dance and I'm glad they made this the dance where Elton snubs Harriet because it really hits for me just what Harriet would be missing out on if Knightley wasn't so fucking aptly named. In all other versions you get the insult, but the dance that's taking place is usually a Baroque walker so it doesn't seem terribly like she's missing out on much. Here, this is like not getting picked for kickball-- not only is it a slight that no one wants you on their team, but you miss out on even playing the game. Harriet looks so lonely, and her feeling of being out of place rolls off of Louise Dylan so forcefully it chokes me up just thinking about it because I've been there, man. I feel this shit. *dabs eyes*. Ahem. So, yes, when Knightley engages her for the dance the excitement the viewer feels is that much more forceful and Harriet's exuberantly starting to jump in when the timing is off and Knightley gently pulling her back, it just hits me in the feels center, guys. (I wanna take a moment to give a shout out to every camp counselor who ever partnered with me for any game at summer camp.) Emma's reaction too, is gold. Her genuine relief at Knightley swooping in is one of those great reminders that Emma is Harriet's friend, and she does care about her.

Finally on the dancing front, I wanna talk about Emma's dance with Knightley and why I prefer it to the one in the 2020 version. I already talked about this a bit in the 2020 review, so I'm gonna try and keep it brief. That shouldn't be too hard, because I'm probably mostly going to repeat a lot of what I've already said about Emma and Knightley in this version as a whole.

The big thing everyone loves about the Crown Inn dance in the 2020 is the yearning, the sexual tension, the quivering touches etc. Don't get me wrong, I LOVE all of those things but... not all the time. Not in everything, and definitely not in Emma. Because Emma, to me, isn't about repressed sexuality or heated tension or seething passion. Emma and Knightley are the opposite of that, to me, really. One of my mutuals put it best, I think: "Emma and Knightley are more suited to stolen glances than hot touches."

In Part 1 I talked about how Knightley is Emma's comfort object. When Emma is out of sorts, Knightley re-centers her. It helps set up, and puts emphasis on, the crisis of the story in the last act--Emma not knowing what she has until [she thinks] she's lost it. Emma and Knightley are Friends to Lovers done as it should be. She is already so comfortable with him she doesn't even realize her own feelings. She just feels right with Knightley and that's what this dance is here to show you--a foreshadowing of matrimonial harmony.

The dance itself, of course, is always up to interpretation, because Austen never describes how it goes, just that Knightley asks Emma to dance and Knightley doesn't dance (barring charitable causes). If you prefer the sexual tension take, if that, to you is an improvement on Austen's story and gives you what you've always felt was missing, I'm glad that there is a version now that gives you what you've been looking for, but for me, I think the 09 approach hits closer their dynamic in the book.

Now do I do think the Emphasis on emotion maybe went a little too earnest in some places in this adaptation? Maybe. Just a little.

In my last review (1972) I went on a rather lengthy tirade about the scene where they turn Emma’s appeals to Harriet to exert herself and move on following Mr. Elton’s marriage into Emma guilting Harriet into thinking she’s a bad friend for being heartbroken and then throwing her into the situation most likely to rub salt in that particular wound.

In this version, while I love the emphasis they put on the stress Emma puts on her own guilt for being the reason for Harriet’s situation in the first place, I think it’s maybe a little too… much.

That’s the only way I can put it. I know I’ve just said that I think there should be a bit more expressiveness in period drama, but this doesn’t quite match the way I read it (Emma’s a bit less desperate in Austen’s prose. Very dedicated to helping Harriet feel better, but just a skosh more composed). I think she’s even crying in this scene.

While we’re here let’s go over to Box Hill ONE. MORE. TIME.

First of all, this is where this screenplay shines, in my opinion. This is the big turning point in the story and as such, should be a touchstone for the judgment of any adaptation. This sequence in the 2009 version is a perfect crystallization of everything I love about this version—namely that this is the version that, to me, most feels like someone read the book thoroughly, paid attention to what Austen was describing and then actually tried to convey it on screen. A lot of other versions sort of feel (to me), like the director glanced at the page and said “here’s what I want to convey in my version”. Insofar as making a piece of art goes, that’s good. Directors are artists as much as painters are and movies are their canvass, but it’s seldom that you find a director who honestly wants to hit as close to the author intent as possible and this Box Hill sequence makes me feel like that’s what Jim O’Hanlon was going for. I have the book open next to me as I write this and it’s shocking to me how minutely the atmosphere described in the book is conveyed here. Most of all, the fact that Emma’s insulting Miss Bates is not the only thing faux pas she makes here. Box Hill as a whole is a disaster, and it’s largely because of Frank.

“When they all sat down it was better; to [Emma’s] taste, a great deal better, for Frank Churchill grew talkative and gay, making her his first object. To amuse her, and to be agreeable in her eyes, seemed to be all that he cared for—and Emma, glad to be enlivened, and not sorry to be flattered, was gay and easy too, and gave him all the friendly encouragement, the admission to be gallant, which she had ever given in the first and most animating period of their acquaintance; but which now, in her own estimation, meant nothing, though in the judgment of most people looking on it must have had such an appearance as no English word but flirtation could very well describe. “Mr. Frank Churchill and Miss Woodhouse flirted excessively.” They were laying themselves open to that very phrase—and to having it sent off in a letter to Maple Grove by one lady, to Ireland by another. Not that Emma was gay and thoughtless from any real felicity; it was rather because she felt less happy than she expected. She laughed because she was disappointed…” --Emma, Chapter 43

Most other versions rush through Frank’s “excessive” flirting with Emma (Right in front of Jane) to get to “Three Things Very Dull Indeed” as fast as possible, and yes that’s the crowning horror of Box Hill, but there’s a very intricate setting here, too, and this version has the time to lay back and let it all unfold in the oppressive discomfort of an English summer day.

Even better than all of that though is Knightley confronting Emma after it all goes down. This treatment is neither plaintive, nor aggressive as it was in ‘96 and ‘97 respectively. I’ve already extolled the virtues of Johnny Flynn’s Box Hill rebuke, but for a change I’m not going to zero in on Miller’s performance which is, at least as good as Flynn’s, but on Romola Garai’s, which I find superior to Anya Taylor Joy’s. Specifically, her reaction once she’s alone.

ATJ in the 2020 version immediately breaks down sobbing and it’s hard for me to feel that she’s sobbing for “anger against herself, mortification, and deep concern” or that there’s much self-reflection going on there. To me it rather just feels like she’s crying because she got shouted at. The theatrics of it, to me, feel childish and self-centered.

I don’t feel that with Garai’s performance.

“She was vexed beyond what could have been expressed—almost beyond what she could conceal. Never had she felt so agitated, mortified, grieved, at any circumstance in her life. She was most forcibly struck . . . How could she have exposed herself to such ill opinion in anyone she valued! And how to suffer him to leave her without saying one word of gratitude, of concurrence, of common kindness!

Time did not compose her…” --Emma, Chapter 43

Of course one can make the case that Emma's reaction should be a bit childish because Emma is an immature character, but that's the thing--I can agree with you anywhere else in this story but this is Emma's maturing moment. This is her turning point as a character. It's where we should see her reactions shift from the same childish denial we're used to seeing when Knightley scolds her, because this is different. It's not the usual brushing off of big brother Knightley, this is a young woman reacting to an esteemed friend pointing out how abhorrently inappropriate she's been and her having to admit that to herself.

I didn't really want to drag comparisons to the 2020 film into this, not on this scale at least, but this just jumped out at me the last time I watched the new film and I have to express it somewhere.

What I see in Garai’s performance is desolation and mortification. That shocked tearfulness of knowing you’ve been justly reproached for wrongdoing, but being too frozen in a pretense of composure to actually cry about it until you’re quite sure that no one will see you. And especially when it’s someone you esteem rebuking you, the horror of them leaving before you can admit that they’re right. There’s so much more depth here, I think, and I can’t even quite express what it makes me feel.

The aspect of time not composing her is another thing that they decided to put stress on in this version. Emma looks fucked up in the following scenes. When she goes to see Miss Bates, she clearly either hasn’t slept or has slept very badly. I feel like this is maybe an anticlimactic conclusion to this section but I’m afraid I’m very close to reaching incoherence, so I’m just gonna leave it here.

My absolute favoritest thing about this version though—something that sets it apart from ALL other versions and even adaptations of other Austen stories—is the inclusion of the post-confession conversation.

This is something of a trope in Austen books but it very rarely finds its way into adaptations: confessions of love are out of the way, the hero and heroine settle into an easy an comfortable conversation, glowing with happiness as they explain and laugh over their actions and misinterpretations of each other’s choices. It happens in Pride and Prejudice, in Persuasion, and yes, in Emma. This is the only Austen adaptation, that I've seen, to include this kind of conversation in any kind of detail. The 1995 Pride and Prejudice alludes to the corresponding scene in it its source material, but the lines pulled from it get tossed into the confession scene itself and then it flies through to get to the obligatory wedding—a side effect of rushing through endings, a convention I’m rather tired of.

Emma (2009) takes its time with this, as with all other aspects of this adaptation. For a version that’s so full of energy, its pacing is extremely laid back and comfortable, without dragging. When you hear the gentle musical swell and Emma and Knightley have their kiss (this whole confession sequence is so sweet and wonderful in its own right), you expect that to be it. But no, we cut to them, the picture of contented happiness, sitting together on a bench overlooking Hartfield’s garden, just talking and enjoying being together, with no teasing, no pretense. If Jane Austen stories emphasize anything, it’s the importance of communication in relationships, and I think that’s maybe why she made it a point in almost every story to show her characters communicating their feelings in words, even after all the conflict has been resolved. This is my favorite scene in the whole series (In case it being my header image didn’t make that obvious.)

This is followed rather promptly by a cut to the next day, with Emma bursting in to Donwell in hysterics about how they can’t be married because she won’t leave her father alone.

This is one of those maybe over-the-top choices that a lot of people don’t like, but guys, it was so funny to me when I was fourteen and it still makes me laugh. It might seem outlandish, but to me it’s just the emphasis on personal relationships and emotion coming through again and it always makes me smile.

Final Thoughts

It’s hard for me to give a proper round up of my feelings for this section because I think I’ve poured just about all of my feelings on each aspect into its dedicated sections.

At the end of the day, the only thing that really disappoints me about this version is the number of missed opportunities there are here. One of my favorite parts of reading Austen is when I run across a line in dialogue or narrative that just… slaps. But they never make it into the adaptations. Emma is full of them and I just wish that Sandy Welch could have taken an opportunity to slip a few of them in.

In summary, I think this is a wonderful, heartfelt adaptation aimed at getting to the emotional heart of a story that often gets caught up in the Mean Girl-ness of its main character than the coming of age story that it is. It's one of my favorite period dramas because it's one of the few that really captures the spirit of the source material as it's always felt to me. There's really only two other period dramas that I esteem on the same level as this, and they're North & South (2004) and Jane Eyre (2011) and it's for the same reasons; because they impact me deeply on an emotional level--which is what art is supposed to do--because of how well it captures the essence of the story that I know and love.

So did I succeed in a more objective review of Emma 2009? I' feel like probably not. But I tried my best. It’s so hard to be objective about something that makes you as happy as this adaptation makes me.

Ribbon Rating: Most Agreeable (83 Ribbons)

Tone: 10

Casting: 9

Acting: 9

Scripting: 7

Pacing: 10

Cinematography: 7

Setting: 9

Costumes: 6

Music: 8

Book Accuracy: 8

[themsource]

A Moment Of Time

Pairing: Sans x Frisk Rating: T Word Count: 2,673

Hey @catsitta I was your secret santa for @secretsantafrans! I love your Fated AU so please excuse any cannon inconsistences if I made any @_@  I had fun mixing holiday themes for this; Kronia and Haloa specifically! 

Hope you enjoy ^^

Lord Death’s realm; usually so quiet and haunting, was unusually loud with the cries of celebration and joy. Golden light bathed the immense hall, the fires and torches giving such a grand view of the heavily decorated scaffoldings and food laden tables casting a supernatural warmth supplied by none other than Lord Fyre, for the evening's festivities.

Rarely was there cause for such lavish displays of black marbled fountains overflowing with fine wine, even rarer a reason for heavenly grown ambrosia to grace such a place as the Underworld with it’s desolate landscape and often gloomy atmosphere, but this was a day rare in itself.

Today marked the winter solstice; the time of year that many a mortal and god alike abandoned their divisions and classes that usually separated them from others of lower status as a show of civility and gratitude for one another.

And Death the youngest favored the holiday, in fact he was its greatest fan and celebrated it every year. Which was a surprise to the Goddess Spring given her dear husband’s solitary nature and not so subtle irritation at large gatherings. Let it be said that Sans denied Papyrus very little, and let him want for nothing.

An admirable trait in her spouse.

“My lady are you not enjoying the wine?” Frisk blinked free of her thoughts and spared a glance at her goblet, sitting wholly untouched and turning bitter the longer she ignored it and allowed it to spoil. 

A longstanding tradition on this day was that women alone were allowed to drink of the spirits and indulge in the fresh aged fruits of the last harvest, a tradition she always enjoyed, but now served as nothing but a reminder of lost youth and unwanted vows.

Frisk was gradually coming to accept the chains that tied her to her husband, and deeply appreciated the way in which he treated her as not only an adult, but as a partner, an equal. However it did little to ease the sadness she felt at times such as these, reminding her of the choices she’d unwittingly made that hadn’t truly been choices at all.

This year she wouldn’t be dancing among the snow of the surface, nor would she sit gossiping with her mother and her wood nymphs about plans for future growth and vegetation. Where once she used to greet the time of year with enthusiasm and eagerness, now sat nothing but a rock hard pit in her stomach that even Ambrosia couldn’t fill.

She felt out of place, and just a little bit lonely.

“Forgive me, but my stomach is not quite right tonight.” She forced a smile, small and fragile, but still genuine as she looked to her handmaiden. “Tonight I am not your lady, we are as equals, did you forget?” 

Daisy smiled as she took the opportunity and reached down to take the neglected drink, boldly taking a sip from it before offering Frisk a warm smile. “No matter the time or day you will always be my lady. As long as you’ll have me.”

Frisk chuckled before looking out to the crowd, her golden eyes skimming the dancers supplied by Mother Night as she caught the sight of Lord Fyre in hushed whispers with a fair skinned and golden haired Underworld denizen. 

Vaguely she tried to recall all the fallen heroes she’d been told would be allowed to attend but no name came to mind, maybe they were a member of the Asphodel Meadows?

“I take it Iris and Hyacinth are enjoying themselves?” She asked absently just as her eyes spotted her husband standing beside the hearth speaking with his brother. 

As if he could feel her gaze like a touch he subtly shifted his fathomless sockets to meet her.

Quickly Frisk averted her eyes with a grimace, and not so quiet skip of her heart. How he could draw such a reaction from her when she could just barely tolerate his presence she’d never know, and even as she watched Daisy blush, her flames tinting a slight shade darker, she swore she could still feel him watching her. 

Sans’s gaze always unsettled her, just as much as it drew her in like a vortex.

“Iris is currently in the kitchens, and Hyacinth, is showing Lord Cadmus around.” The way Daisy said his name was enough to make Frisk stare at her in shock. Cadmus, the hero of letters, how fitting given Hyacinth’s nature. Though it was still the last thing she’d expected of the elemental.

“I see…” Even her handmaidens dreamed of love she supposed, something she’d never really given much thought to. Was that one of the reasons behind their constant push for her to get close to Sans? “Well I hope she enjoys herself.”

Daisy offered a timid grin. “Are you sure it’s only your stomach that ails you tonight?”

Frisk dismissed her worry with a shake of her head. “Don’t worry Daisy, go have fun, you fuss over me enough every day as is.” 

Reluctantly the young fiery girl nodded and did as Frisk suggested, but not without offering a backward glance that the goddess waved off with a teasing smile. Slowly she let her hand drop and went back to looking out over the crowd. 

She felt like such a stick in the mud, truly not an attitude befitting of a queen.

Gracefully as she could, and still doing her best to ignore San’s continuously lingering stare, she skirted the side of the hall and slipped away behind a gathered group of souls. She didn’t stop holding her breath or head high until she’d safely made it back to her room, where she finally let her shoulders sag and sighed from sudden exhaustion. 

Papyrus might not be too pleased at her absence, but it was better than sitting in place all night frowning and pouting like a child. Frisk had gone to such lengths to show her mother and the other gods she was worthy of her title, she refused to spoil it all in one evening. 

More than halfway across her room she froze, her eyes going wide in disbelief, as they caught on a small object resting in the center of her bed.

Had someone been in her room?

Frisk’s heart anxiously fluttered in her chest as she debated on returning to the party or taking another step further into her room. Never before now had she noticed just how thick the curtains were that adorned her windows, or just how dark the corners of her chamber were where the miniscule candle light didn’t reach. 

Cautiously she inched forward, the ichor in her veins pounding like a drum as she shakily reached for it with all the control of a quivering branch. 

It fit perfectly in her hand, its texture like that of smooth glass with a coolness that sent a chill up to her shoulder. He guard dropped as she slowly raised it to eye level and turned it this way and that. It looked like a flat and rounded piece of polished obsidian, with golden leaf decorating it’s edges in swirling floral designs. 

A mirror, designed to be easily concealed and for discrete use.

She frowned.

Honestly Frisk wasn’t one to fret over her appearance, she never had been, always preferring wild and tangled hair with robes slightly worn at the fringes from hours spent in the dirt or walking. The only ones that showed any care to her looks were her caretakers and, on a less comfortable note, her husband.

She turned it twice over, as if the name of the person who had left this would magically appear if she simply kept looking, and nearly dropped it as the surface brightened, turning white hot and blinding.

Just as quickly as it happened it dimmed, and in its place was an image, crystal clear  and moving. 

Frisk gasped as she recognized one of the flower fields in which she used to play, now blanketed in freshly fallen snow, the picture of her mother standing silent and stoic as she looked out over the winter landscape. 

It was a looking glass! A magical item so very rare that only three gods she knew of had one, and none of them this small or intricately decorated. Whoever this was from had obviously put a lot of considerable effort into having it made.

“does my lady wife like her gift?”

She hadn’t expected his presence with the celebrations currently going on, but honestly she should have. Sans always had the habit of suddenly appearing from around corners or showing up spontaneously. 

Frisk spun on her heel, her hand quickly darting up to brush away the tears beading in her eyes as they widened at seeing her husband standing just within the dark shadows of the doorway.

At this point in their relationship she’d grown accustomed to his comings and goings. The only thing she never understood behind the actions was if it was done simply because he liked to use his name and title as the lord of death to unnerve others and to demonstrate the power he held, or if it was merely a fleeting moment of whimsy for a cheap thrill. 

One thing that always irritated her to no end though, was that he enjoyed targeting her the most.

Such as now; with an embarrassed flush on her cheeks and a jolt of shame running down her spine as she struggled to hide the very emotion she so blatantly wore. Gifts between spouses was a tradition, but she hadn’t given any thought to it. She didn’t think for a moment her lord husband would be partial to the tradition.

Frisk should have known better given how their whole relationship had even started.

“I...am afraid I did not prepare anything for you in turn.” 

His gaze, always so penetrating and watchful, dropped from her face to the looking glass she clutched to her chest, not missing the subtle way her knuckles whitened as she subconsciously tightened her hold on it.

As if he’d try to steal it away from her.

Sans’s smile widened. “what more gift could a husband want than the company of his wife?”

Her face stung as it turned red, and her voice came out uncertain, higher in pitch, as she stared at him. “I trust you mean platonically?”

“I have the desires of any man, for his bride, and while i wouldn’t turn away such an offer...” 

She tensed as his sockets did a slow, calculated roll of her form before flickering back up to her face, the gesture causing her heart to skip for the second time that night. “in this instance my intentions are entirely innocent.” He chuckled.

Frisk watched as he held a hand out in offer, his phalanges slightly curling as if beckoning her to him with a still ever present grin. It would be so easy, in another time and place, for Frisk to have believed the innocence behind his smile. But he always wore it, when amused, irritated, and when being cruel as Death often had to be.

It made it so hard to understand him.

Casually she slipped the now darkened looking glass within her robes and tried her best to keep her expression unreadable as she placed her hand in his, the icy touch of his bones draining the warmth from her, but never able to steal it all completely.

The edges of his smile seemed to soften as he glanced down.

It did something to her to see that. He acted so touch starved, so easily awed every time they had the briefest of contact.

They both stood there in silence, his thumb slowly running circles into the back of her hand the longer he held it. She sucked in a breath at the shiver it sent up her spine but dared an uncertain look up at him.

“Are we not going somewhere?”

His subtle movement stopped but he didn’t look away from where they stayed joined.

“is there somewhere you wish to go?”

She didn’t respond, and he took that as an answer. He gave one more slow, deliberate, stroke of his thumb before finally releasing her. If Frisk didn’t know better she’d have thought she’d heard a small sigh from him.

And then she finally noticed the faint blush on his cheeks.

“...Sans?”

“hmm?”

“Have you been drinking?” 

He looked her in the eye as his grin hitched higher. “whatever gave that impression?”

Frisk narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously, the faint blush darkening as she stared him down and cultivated one on her own cheeks. She hadn’t noticed just how cute his magic could sometimes manifest itself, just how it left a vague ethereal glow that bathed the inside of his normally obscure hood.

“Sans…only women are supposed to drink today.”

His sockets lidded. “from what i could see earlier in the night, you weren’t in the mood, and it would’ve been rude to waste wine provided by asgore himself.” 

She knew he was using a poor excuse, but it was enough of one it lit a flicker of embarrassment in her. Frisk stubbornly focused on one of the gold medallions that held up his cloak to avoid eye contact.

“You just wanted to drink.”

“can you fault me? it was my favorite after all.” She glared at his cheeky smirk. “pomegranate.” 

“...”

“...”

“...If only divorce was an option.”

Sans’s sockets widened and then he let out such a deep, bass heavy, laugh Frisk openly gawked at him. It took a moment for him to compose himself but once he had his voice was filled with mirth.

“sadly it isn’t. i would only welcome the challenge to make you mine yet again, if i could.”

She couldn’t think of a response to that, not one that wasn’t insulting at least, and really she didn’t feel like trying to argue with the thick skulled god before her, it would be pointless, Sans never backed down when it came to a play on words.

Silence stretched before he spoke again. 

“i should be getting back to the celebration, gillby wanted to talk to me regarding a trade of some sort.”

Frisk suddenly felt a pang that made her grimace. She hadn’t realized she’d actually been enjoying the company. Maybe it was because they rarely spoke, or maybe she was just that emotionally vulnerable tonight, but her words were hesitant and honest. 

“I understand...I enjoyed this. The casual conversation.”

Her husband tilted his head.

“i should be thanking you, this was just the break i needed from the crowd.”

Despite herself she chuckled. “Of course, why would I ever assume you asked for my company purely for it alone?” 

He went silent, the brim of his hood covering his sockets as his tone came out blunt. “if this wasn’t what i desired i wouldn’t have asked for this when you offered me a gift in turn.” 

How did he keep doing that? Slipping behind her walls so easily with honeyed words after repeatedly testing their strength with his indifference and often selfish actions? He barely ever tried but it was always enough to make her question her stance on him.

“You’d better hurry back, I don’t think Grillby will be sober enough to remember his reasons if you don’t.” She whispered.

Sans gave a small bow, his hand swiftly cupping hers and bringing it to his teeth for a kiss. When he stood her hand was still lifted, frozen in place by confusion and surprise.

“i bid thee goodnight, happy solstice my queen.”

He vanished.

Frisk opened and closed her mouth dumbly, an almost plea for him to stay forever trapped on the tip of her tongue. She stared at where her husband had stood and slowly pulled out her looking glass.

Her first Solstice in the Underworld hadn’t gone well as it could’ve been, but it was still memorable.

[memes-in-a-half-shell]

Business AU - Working Late, Part 4

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3

Flirt mode  A C T I V A T E D 👏

As everyone else in the room was getting ready to depart for the day - chatting here and there and gathering their belongings - Vee was mostly occupied by her handbag, making sure everything was there before she would leave the place. She did not hear when someone approached her, but she next felt the poke of an object to her right shoulder.

“I didn’t want to make you feel bad earlier,” started Donatello’s voice. “But I truly do think we’re connected somehow now.”

She looked at him, first noticing that he had been poking her with a cardboard file folder, and then she took a good look at his clothes. Purple. AT LEAST not the same shade. He was wearing a fitting v-neck sweater of a dark purple color, with a white shirt  and a black tie underneath, his looks completed with dark charcoal pants and black shoes.

“... You’ve got to be kidding me,” started Vee with a stifled laugh. “Why are we like this?”

“I’m not superstitious, but maybe it’s destiny. We were meant to work together,” he winked. “Great minds think alike!”

Vee couldn’t hide her smile, next prompting him to get on the move for their dinner. She first expected them to walk out of the building and head to a subway station, but she was surprised to see the turtle head towards the indoor parking lot of the building.

“Wait, you want us to go by car?” she asked, her heels clacking rapidly on the tiled floor as she caught up to him.

“Why not? It’ll be quieter that way! I don’t feel like dealing with crowds in the subway anyway.”

She had to give him that, at least. A car would smell better than a subway train... As they made their way through the lot, she noticed Donnie getting out keys, the woman commenting:

“Huh, I thought you’d have a chauffeur or something like that.”

“Why, because I’m rich?” asked the mutant, amused. “I like driving, so I don’t see why I would leave all that fun to someone else.”

He pressed a button on a small remote attached to a key, which prompted a black SUV nearby to flash its light.

Vee was most certainly impressed by his taste, first observing the vehicle until she noticed the other opening the passenger door for her.

“The lady may take her seat.”

As she took place, her eyes scanned the interior.

The major difference she could notice from any other cars was how the driver seat was rearranged a bit further back, allowing space for the mutant’s shell most probably. As Donnie took place next, Vee couldn’t help her question:

“Is this car completely custom made?”

The other smirked: “If it was, it’d be way cooler. ... Nah for this I only had a Genesis GV80 model slightly modified to accomodate my form. I like the look of it and I don’t need something too extravagant to go around on the streets.”

“ ‘Don’t need something too extravagant’,” quoted the woman. “You do realize that you have an expensive car?”

“Remind me to show you my brother Mikey’s cars,” added Donnie, then starting the car’s ignition. “Then we can talk back about what’s expensive.”

As soon as the vehicle was brought to life, music was heard, being none other than Dio’s “Better In The Dark” track. The turtle rapidly fumbled to turn it down, his eyes widening.

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry for that,” he said once silence was back.

“... Are you kidding? You shouldn’t apologize for listening to Dio!” reassured Vee. “That guy frickin’ rocks!”

The terrapin smirked: “Ah, a woman of good taste! You keep on getting better and better.”

Vee couldn’t help her smile in return, the pair then finally getting on the move.

***

Donnie had to park his SUV on a quiet street, the duo next walking towards their destination; New York’s Little Italy. The evening was already laying its shadows in the sky, but the streets were bright and colorful, the warmth in the air of the incoming summer days an absolute delight. A light conversation was held as they were walking, until Vee was abruptly stopped by almost falling due to one of her heels stumbling into a small crack in the sidewalk. She was first surprised by how fast Donnie had been to catching her, a small laugh escaping her. To feel his touch around her, his strength, all she could hear was her heart drumming in her ears. They continued their path, Vee’s arm hooked to Donatello’s. It simply felt like a dream at that point...

They finally arrived to the place; a small rustic looking restaurant that had been hiding from the bigger crowd’s broad sight. There were few patrons inside, the ambiance calm and somehow giving a “feels like home” kind of vibe. Donnie seemed to know the place well, only quickly waving to the staff and already going for a table. It was a nice little corner with a table large enough so they could lay down their paperwork. Being a complete gentleman, the mutant was quick to draw a chair for Vee to sit on, waiting until she was seated properly before settling down across the table. A waiter was already at their disposition, Donnie already asking for a bottle of white wine, interjecting some Italian words in the bunch and ending with a “grazie mille”, to Vee’s surprise.

“You speak Italian?” she asked as the waiter was walking away.

“Non molti, ma un po' sì (Not a lot, but a little bit yes),” he answered. “Still learning, but I’m getting there.”

“Do you know any other languages?”

“I’ve tried to start learning Japanese alongside my brother Leonardo, but I’m not as proficient as him so far. I’ve also started French.”

Vee couldn’t help herself: “Donc, si je parle dans ma langue maternelle, tu devrais comprendre? (So, if I speak in my native tongue, you should understand?)”

Donnie froze for a moment, soon ruminating the words and showing a smile.

“Un peu (a bit),” he said. “But I feel like I need to practice a little more.” He did not skip a beat when adding: “I don’t know why, but I think a French Canadian’s accent sounds way more interesting than metropolitan French. There’s a certain flair to it, I can’t really explain...”

Vee was most certainly amused: “Try going into any rural parts of Québec, then you’ll feel like you’re speaking to aliens or something. Our French is unique, sometimes butchered, but it is nice indeed.” She did a small shrug. “I could help you practice, if you want.”

Their wine arrived, their glasses filled and the bottle left at their table. Donnie took his glass, pensively rolling the drink in his hand.

“You keep on giving, miss Vee, and I’ll soon feel cheap. First you’re helping me for the Lowline, now you’re proposing to help me with my French. ... My oh my, mademoiselle, I’ll have a debt to repay once again.”

“Let’s start by actually getting something for dinner,” added the woman, lifting the menu to her face in order to hide her blush. “It’ll give me time to think about if I need your help with something. What’s good in here?”

It was so hard to act casual...

“Their pastas are the best, but I’ll have to say that their tiramisu is to die for - I’m definitely grabbing one of those at the end.”

As the evening went along, Vee was finally starting to feel more at ease. The food was delicious, the wine delectable, and the company absolutely charming. They took some time to review the folder Donnie had brought along, talking about the project’s restrictions and demands. It was simple enough thus far, some ideas already boiling in the woman’s mind. Maybe the wine was kicking in, but she didn’t even flinch when her hand brushed the turtle’s over some papers. Her body language was screaming interest, lightly hunched over the table, actively listening to him and her smile tender. She couldn’t quite explain this attraction she felt. All she knew was that Donnie had this aura surrounding him; a welcoming and calm presence that made her feel safe and relaxed. His humor was subtle and his additions to a conversation well-placed. He was a man of many words and of a vast knowledge, although gladly giving the spotlight to any soul speaking, always listening with great interest. Vee could only admit that she wanted to learn more about him.

***

The dinner over, the pair headed back to the SUV, Donnie at least insisting that he could drop Vee to her place. How could she say no to a sweet smile such as his, anyway? The address handed, the ride went on smoothly in a comfortable silence, the woman glancing at the many lights outside - not even noticing that the terrapin would sometimes glance her way and feel this lovesick knot in his chest...

As he parked nearby her apartment building, he did not hesitate to get out as well, at least considering it good etiquette to escort her to the entrance.

“I hope I didn’t make it harder for you by cramming all that information in your face?” he said as they were talking, arms hooked again.

Vee shook her head, amused: “Absolutely not. It has given me ideas, in fact.”

“Good, good.”

As they stopped by the main door, they paused, their hooked arms transitioning into a longing, yet subtle touch of their hands. Vee finally moved her hand away, her blush faint as she removed a small strand of hair from her face.

“... This was nice, thank you,” she said. “Not the habitual work meetup I’m used to, but this was good for a change.”

Donnie quickly cleared his throat, retrieving his thoughts.

“Of course! It was quite pleasant, indeed. ... It’s not often that I get such enjoyable company.”

“You’re sweet, thank you.”

There it was, that silence as they both crossed gaze. That moment of unspeakable words and uncertain actions... The mutant sweetly smiled, breaking that moment.

“I’ll see you tomorrow at work. ... Goodnight, Vee.”

“Goodnight, Donnie.” She felt like she could breathe again...

Yet, as she saw the other walk away, she added:

“Donnie!”

He turned back.

“I think I know how you can repay me for the French lessons,” she continued. “... How about another evening together? Not work related this time.”

Joy lightened up the turtle’s features, definitely agreeing: “Absolutely!”

And just like that, the night felt even better.

((Part 5))

[travellingarmy]

║Ningguang║Inspiration

From Wattpad.

Gender-neutral.

Fluff.

Word count: 1.9k

---

She looked so beautiful sitting in the midst of those glaze lilies, a smile on her lips and eyes gentle with a soft glow from the sunlight as she looked at the flowers. She plucks a glaze lily and brought it up to her nose, pushing a strand of her long hair behind her ears.

At that moment, it felt as if the rest of the world stopped. Your eyes glimmered and your face dusted with a light pink. To you, she was a goddess under that one beautiful and bright day and hope that you could get to see more of her in the future.

You see, you were a travelling painter and writer who is inspired by anything and everything around you. Travelling all across Teyvat, anybody would thought that you would have already met that eureka moment at its highest peak but no, you didn't- not until your travel to Liyue, that is.

Liyue, like all regions of Teyvat, had a unique style that distinguishes itself from others: the aesthetic of buildings, the aromatic dishes, its culture, yearly festivals-- you name it. It draws many and all sorts of people- either for work or for fun and you were there for the latter.

The bustling of crowds and the bright lights of the city at night have you that peaceful yet lively atmosphere that made you look at everything in awe. There was simply too much things one could write about and many places surrounding Liyue to paint, but none of them really sparked that motivation.

It was only when you took a walk outside of Liyue, that you found your spark. In the field full of glaze lilies, there was a woman, alone, in Liyue esque clothing. She had hair that was white as the snow in Dragonspine and eyes that was the colour of a phoenix and full of love and life. Your heart pounded against your chest like never before. She was alluring.

You took a step closer but the sound of grass bring crumpled upon made her alert and her reaction to the sound was faster than a normal person, like she was a warrior on full alert. "Who are you?" she asks sternly and her soft gaze became sharp as soon as her eyes landed on you.

"Oh, um, sorry to alert you," you started, "I was just passing by when I saw you and um.." You didn't say what you were thinking- her looking beautiful- to save yourself from embarrassment and from the- what would have been- suspicious gaze on you.

"Oh, is that so?" she says and starts to inspect you from head to toe, taking every little details of you. "Hm, it doesn't look like you're from Liyue. Are you an adventurer?"

"Ah, you can say that.." You scratch the back of your head shyly. "I'm travelling across Teyvat for inspiration." The lady hums, bringing her fingers on her chin. "So, I'm assuming you're here for inspiration?" she clarifies herself and you nod. A smile forms on her lips. "Not a lot come by this place as there are many monsters and that there are glaze lilies that can already be found within the city."

She then stood up and turns her full body to you. "Then, I shall be leaving so I can give you the scenery to help inspire you," she says and bows politely, excusing herself from your sight. You watched as her figure disappears from your sight, returning to the city. When you turned around, the scenery before you felt different. It felt sort of lonely and empty without the lady who basked in the sunlight and that spark suddenly died as soon as your eyes landed on it.

You decided to call it a day out in the wilderness and return back to the safety of the city, but not before seeing something glimmer in the midst of flowers under the sun's light. You walked closer and see a jewelry just sitting there and you presumed that it was the lady's so you picked it up, but since she was far gone, you can't hope to catch up to her, so you just hope that you two will meet again.

On the next day, you found Luhua Pool and decided to paint the scenery. It was very beautiful indeed so you sat there and painted away. As you were painting, you couldn't help but let your mind wander to the lady from yesterday.

She was a local which means you would see her somewhere in the city. However, she didn't look like a simple worker of the local stores or restaurants which meant that you can't simply walk into buildings and expect her to be there.

You still remember of the jewelry that you found and rummage your satchel for it. It was kept well inside a small box that you bought not soon after returning to the city. You suddenly pictured the white-haired female, alone, in that field of flowers, looking so beautiful that it took your breath away.

Subconsciously, you picked up a new canvas and paintbrush and spent that day painting the scene from yesterday with the best of your memories. The field itself was pretty, but it was her that made it even more so beautiful than it already was. When you were finished, the sun was already setting in the horizon. You took a step back to look at your work and praised it. It was your favourite and the one where you put so much care and effort into. If only the lady was there to see it.

You packed your belongings inside your satchel and made your way down the mountain you were on. You felt that the sun was setting rather quickly because the moon and a couple of stars were already dusting the now dark sky and you were nowhere near the city.

Not being a vision user, it kind of sucked that you have to fear of hilichurls suddenly appearing before you. The thought alone made you clutch the strap of your satchel and began frantically looking around.

Then- to your dread- you see a bunch of hilichurls in the distance. Some were sleeping while others were awake and on guard; there was even a mitachurl which just made the whole thing much worse than it already is. You can make your way around the camp so that's what you did, not knowing there there was a sleeping hilichurl in the direction you were heading. It woke up and set the alarm for the others as well.

"Oh, for the love of..!" You gripped tightly on your satchel and made a run for it. Through the years of travelling, your legs gotten quite used to long travels, as well as running away from encountered hilichurls. It was something not worth bragging since it's for survival.

You looked back and see that a hilichurl with a fire bat-like weapon sped up than the rest. In a panic, you sprinted faster, but since you weren't looking forward, you didnt see the conveniently placed log.

You tripped over it and ended up scratching your chin from the impact. You turn your body and see that they the samachurls was no more than a metre away, ready to swing its axe. Closing your eyes, you expected for the worst.

When ten seconds passed and the strike didn't come, you open one eye and then both to see some sort of barrier in front of you. "Are you alright?" Upon hearing the voice, you looked over your shoulders and see the white-haired female of whom you just painted of not too long ago.

Not waiting for an answer, she casted little rocks that was strong enough to wipe all of the hilichurls out of sight and returned back to you, kneeling down to inspect your injuries. "You're lucky that I was on my way back to the city and found you," she states. "Archon forbids what might have happened to you if I were not around."

She gets up on her feet again and stretches out a hand for you to grab. "Come on, I'll treat your wounds at my place." You didn't think it through as you hastily accepted the offered hand and followed her back inside the city.

She lead you up a couple of stairs and to your shocking news, up to the Jade Chamber that you had heard so many praises about. "Um, excuse me, but isn't this place off limits for common folks?" you ask, your eyes darting across the place with a mix of uneasiness and excitement. "It is, usually, but since you are injured, I've made an exception."

The words caught you by surprise and stare at the back of the female who rummage through shelves and drawers, looking for the things she needed. "Wait, so, are you Lady Ningguang, the Tianquan of the Liyue Qixing!?" you exclaim. She hums, a small smile tugging her lips. "I see you're well informed of Liyue. Yes, I am and this is my home," she answers. Once she found the thing she wanted- which was a medical kit- she walks to where you were sitting and places the kit on the table beside you.

"This will sting so I apologise beforehand," she said and took out a cotton, dabbing some kind of ointment on it. She gently cups your face with her free hand and tilts it upwards before placing the cotton on the bottom of your chin.

She wasn't lying when it would sting and you hissed at the sudden stinging pain you felt. She apologises again before doing it a couple more times. "There, that should heal up in no time," she says as soon as she pulls away.

You watched her quietly from your seat, mesmerized by the sight of her as she cleans up. "Beautiful." Before you could comprehend what came out from underneath your breath, Ningguang heard it and looks at you with a baffled look. "I beg your pardon?"

You realized what you said and shook your head hastily. "A, ah, did I say that out loud?" you ask, more to yourself. I-it's just that.. Um, I really think you're beautiful, Lady Ningguang and I hope that we could meet more often.." You scratched your cheek, averting your gaze from the Tianquan.

There was a brief awkward silence which made you kinda wish that you hadn't said what you said just a few moments ago. Then, "Thank you," she says. You look up and see her smiling. "I.. I do like the thought of knowing someone outside of working matters."

Your eyes glimmered in happiness that soon reached your lips. "R-really? Then, I'm happy," you said and remembered something the slipped your mind. "Oh, right, I was wondering if it would be alright to ask what you were doing out so late?"

"Oh, I was looking for something that I had dropped yesterday. I had thought I dropped it by the fields.." she answers. You knew what that 'something' is and asked, "Are you perhaps looking for a jewelry?" She looks at you with hope in her eyes. "Do you know where it is?"

You nodded and look through your satchel. "I found it lying on the grass and kept it safe, thinking that it was yours," you say in honest and pulled out the box it was kept in before walking towards her, stretching the box towards her. "I'm glad to have stumbled upon you so that I could return it to you."

Ningguang smiles and accepts the box. "Thank you," she says in a gentle tone. "By the way, I haven't gotten your name, have I?" You shook your head. "My name is (Y/N)," you answered.

"Well, (Y/N), I hope we can become great friends," she says to which you happily nod. "Me too."

---

[gaitwae]

i miss you •||• Loki x Reader

WORD COUNT: 2847

“You can’t just expect me to be okay with this!” you shout. You were arguing again, like always. You had been partners for three years, now, and even more than that, inseparable. It was often hard to stay away, no matter how angry you could be at him.

“And why not?” he roared at you. You were outside of your office. Loki had walked in with a sullen expression, telling you his wish. It angered you immediately. “I can’t keep putting you in danger like this! We’ve become too emotionally attached. I’m asking Fury for a new partner.”

You bite your lip, clenching you fists so tight your nails could draw blood. “You should at least consider my feelings, Loki!” You step closer, almost daring him to say it. Say what he always says.

“I have to keep you safe!” There it was. The same excuse. One that never really mattered in the end because you had more training and were technically the superior agent. You roll your eyes.

“Why? Why can’t you just deal with me getting in the occasional fight? Why is it such a big deal if I get hurt or if I go out alone?” you ask, seeing his eyes darken with rage but soften with fear. He opened his mouth, but no sound came, so you continued. “I’m one of the best agents S.H.E.I.L.D. has! I can do the dirty work! I’m not a baby, Loki.”

“Yes! That’s why I worry so much!” he argued. “S.H.E.I.L.D. always has us go on the most deadly missions, and you’re so idiotic as to think you’ll make it out without a scrape! I—We almost lost you, yesterday. I can’t be partners with someone like you.” You never fell for his silver tongue, but you could tell he was trying this time.

The statement hurt tremendously, but this was the man who came into your apartment for no reason (and invitation) and let you theorize with him in the middle of the night about missions and suspects. He cuddled you when you watched movies together, mumbling jokes in your ear when a character did something unbelievably stupid. He showed you his Jotun form and occasionally called you “Princess (Y/N)” instead of “Lady” just to tease. You trusted him above all others and vice versa.

The man who randomly bought you things while undercover and begged you if he could keep souvenirs of the little things. He took pictures of you after you bought him a camera, even against your wish not to. He could still end up being the closest to you like he always was. But you wanted to be his partner. No matter how much you complained about it.

“That makes two of us,” you spit. “How could I ever be partners with the God of Mischief and Lies? After all, he is just a monster.”

His eyes harden. “You don’t mean that,” he whispers. “You know I care about you. So much. But being partners any longer will jeopardize our work.” He swallowed thickly. You scared him, you know it. You hurt him. He tries to grab your hand. Rare moments he held your hand. You pull your hand away, still upset.

“How? Agents need a bond of trust, Loki!” you tell him. “Other agents are jealous of our connection, how well we work together.”

Loki POV

Jealous of our connection. No. Other agents were jealous of me, how close I was to (Y/N). They all wanted her, cherished her. She was such a sweet, funny, caring woman. I was a monster indeed. It was an odd pairing, and I could even see why others hated me. But one cannot help whom they are in love with. And who did I love? Her.

“Learn to trust someone else, then,” I suggest, rather rudely. “After all, this monster could betray you.” I used the same tone of voice as she did, mocking her some.

(Y/N)’s eyes widened with realization. “Oh, Loki,” she sighs. I try to keep my cold glare, but I look down to the floor. She walks over to me, putting her hands on my shoulders. One gently reached up to cup my face. I catch it and hold it close. “You aren’t a monster. I didn’t mean that, you know I didn’t.” I nod.

“I know. I know, (Y/N). But look at us. We . . . we should consider how any more losses would affect us. And this—this—this whatever it is needs to be talked about too.” I set a hesitant hand on her waist. “It seems like whenever we are around each other, the world goes from being a dark place to—”

“The Fourth of July?” (Y/N) suggested. After celebrating the ridiculous holiday with her, I understood what she meant. The fireworks, the booms, the thrill. I nod. Though neither of us are smiling, I feel we both understand how happy we are to have each other.

We’re still for a while, she against me and I holding her. Neither one speaks. And for once I’m glad to not be able to use my silver tongue. She finally looks up at me, but a pang runs through my heart.

“I cannot stay as your partner. What would happen if you were hurt because of my ignorance?” I ask her. “I care too deeply to watch you in danger, (Y/N). This isn’t a decision out of spite or selfishness. It’s out of love. We’d become dangerous if the other was in trouble.”

She looks reluctant with her answer. “You’re right, Loki.” She sighs. “You’ll still come over, right? Watch movies and stuff?”

“Darling, I’ll even sleep over and make you that cake you love, with popcorn.” I laugh, even though I’m completely serious. “I’ll brush your hair and play board games. Nothing we wouldn’t do on a day off.”

She smiled softly. “Really?”

“I promise. I will make the time for you.” I take her other and lace our fingers together. She grinned at me. I give her a soft smile. “We just . . . won’t work on the same part of projects anymore.”

Her smile drops. “I know. I know how much I say I’d take another partner all the time, but I don’t want one.” She pouts and looks away from me. I don’t know how to tell her I want to be her partner in more than work.

“It’s the best option,” I say, slow and steady but also sadly. “I promise nothing will change between us.”

She gave a slow, tiny nod. “Okay. Okay,” she says. “But if you don’t go now, I might make you stay.” She looks at me with her lovely eyes. A firm stare. Right now, I’m sure, more than ever, I’m in love with her.

I let go, wishing to kiss her, care for her, but I rush off to find Fury.

Your POV, four months later

Most people at parties have fun. You usually did. Usually. And this year, the Halloween party was at the top of its game. Everyone was looking astonishing. Your costume? A fairy. His costume? A pirate. He sounded the part along with looking it.

But you weren’t having fun.

You saw him with his new partner, Yvonne Cathery. He was laughing with her, probably at something she had said. With her lovely blonde hair and bright blue eyes. She was a typical blonde: very pretty, very funny, and usually everybody’s type. And you felt hatred for her.

Your new partner, Charlotte Mendon, looked at you with a sort of worry. Her dark hair and eyes made her look pretty, but you could care less how she looked. She was one of your best friends, next to Loki and Natasha—well, just Nat now.

“Honey, you okay?” she asked. You shake your head, furious with Loki. He was busy, yes, and he was still coming over and doing everything he promised. The both of you were even close to sharing a kiss, a few months ago. (On a dare, but who cared? He looked eager enough to you.) Still, he wasn’t as close as he could have been. “It’s Yvonne, again, isn’t it?”

“I want to kill both of them, at this point,” you growl. You tense up more when Loki looks over at you. He smiled even brighter, waving. His face was tinted red, but you assumed that was because of his pretty partner. You glare. He looks confused and arches an eyebrow.

“What’s wrong?” he mouths. You point to him. He looks behind him at first, then points to himself. You nod. “Yvonne too?” he mouths more. You nod again. He looks dumbfounded and grins evilly. Yvonne asks him something and he makes an excuse. She pouts and attempts to seduce him into staying. He gets comfortable, walking away.

Toward you.

You light up like a Christmas tree. Why? Because he’s moving so fast, he’s running people over. His eyes are bright and so is his smile, but just as mischievous. Yvonne looks absolutely offended, and somehow, that’s okay with you.

He lifts you, making you let out a noise. He spins you. You try so hard not to laugh and stay angry at him. He sets you down and kisses your cheek, making you blush. “Loki!” you roar.

He pulls back, hands on your waist. “I knew you were jealous, I knew it!” he says, kissing your whole face. His grip was shaky, and you turned your fiery face to where he was sitting. Four whole bottles of hard, white alcohol. Was it a hundred proof? Oh no. You couldn’t believe what you were seeing: He was drunk.

“I-I’m not jealous,” you say, seeing Charlotte smirk. You were, and there was no use lying to Loki. He holds you close, cradling your head and giving a small laugh. You blush furiously, looking down on the ground.

“You are! You are!” He lets out a chuckle and goes to kiss your lips but you were quicker. You put your fingers to his mouth, pushing him away from you, just a tad. He looks surprised at the gesture.

“Whoa, Loki-Doki. Hold your drunk horses. No more kisses. I’m not jealous and you’re in my space. Not to mention ruining my wings; they took weeks to make! Move,” you say sternly. He pouts and lets go of you, though you could tell he wanted to love on you more. (Not that you didn’t like it, but he didn’t need to know that.)

“You’re still jealous of her,” he says, words slurred, a small smirk appearing and disappearing just as fast. “But you’re wrong about our relationship . . . she isn’t even someone I can . . . tolerlareate? Tolerate. I want you!”

“Loki,” you warn. He pouts more. To be fair, it was adorable. But it wasn’t like Loki to drink himself drunk. You press your lips together, using a softer tone. “Tell me what’s wrong, baby?” This was a tone you reserved for emergencies. Like nightmares and on the verge of tears. You were pretty sure this counted as an emergency.

He looks at you with worry and sadness, lips wobbling. “Come back to me. I miss staying up late with you and cooking for you and seeing you every second of the day. To be undercover and shower you with gifts I know you never saw the point in having, because what you wanted you already had and taking you out to dinner. I’m ready to be your partner, again, (Y/N).”

You sigh. “It’s only been a few months, Loki.” They way that he had described being partners . . . it had you worrying that he might just want more than that. You shivered slightly, your heart melting at how sweet he could be.

“But I miss you too much. I worry about you all the time, (Y/N)!” He holds your hands close to his chest, pleading silently. His heart was beating faster than you ever heard it before. It was getting really hard to say ‘no.’ “I almost went off base because you shut off your com. I wasn’t even supposed to be listening to it!”

You blushed. You knew he cared about you . . . but, dang, you were never going to hear the end of this from Charlotte. You look over to her, seeing her put a hand on her heart.

“So cute!” she giggled quietly. You roll your eyes a tad. You look back to Loki, cupping his face. You plant a kiss on his cheek, standing up on your tippiest tippy toes momentarily.

“Okay. Fine. Fine. When you’re thinking clearly again, we’ll talk about it over dinner or something,” you tell him, seeing his eyes light up again. “Got it?”

He beams and nods. “Thank you!” he says, hugging you tightly and kissing your cheek, again. By now, you’re sure you look like the human tomato, even if the room was dark.

“Go get some water, okay? I’m worried about you.” You give him a soft, worried smile. He nodded. You squeeze his hand, pushing him away gently. He squeezes your hand back, holding on as long as he can. It seemed that drunk Loki was a lot more playful than usual Loki.

Charlotte smirks. “Is it just me, or did he seem really touchy-feely tonight?” she asked, her mermaid costume glittering as she sat next to me. I nod.

“He rarely ever hugs me, unless we’re watching something. And even then, he’s not holding me close and teasing or kissing me.” You look back to where he went. The water dispenser. He was drinking out of a paper cup. “Kissing me when drunk. . . . Definitely not what I was expecting. Can you imagine him doing it clear-headed?” You look to Lotte.

She nods. “Yeah, but you might have to dare him or something. Nothing much.” I glare at her. “What?” she asked.

“Seriously, Charlotte. Come on. He doesn’t like me like that —” She cuts you off with a laugh.

“Of course he does, (Y/N), don’t be ridiculous. You see the way he looks at you compared to others. How far he’s been willing to go for you, never mind he ignores what he did right after.” She gives you a light laugh. “I’ll bet my bottom dollar he’s head over heels.”

“You shouldn’t bet that,” you say, giving her a sneaky smile. “You might lose it.” Charlotte rolls her eyes.

“The point is, you might have a wish of yours come true. Why is it so hard for you to believe?” she asks you.

You run your hands through your (h/l), (h/c) hair. “I just don’t want to get my hopes up, Charlotte.” You give a melancholy sigh. “What if it’s just the alcohol talking?”

She gives you a reassuring smile. “Trust me, (Y/N). Just this once.”

-----

“Agent (L/N). Where are you going?” Phil Coulson says behind you, jumping you a bit. “You haven’t been properly introduced to your new partner.” His words are playful.

“Insulting, isn’t it?” Loki says, his voice coming from next to Phil. “One might think she wants to work alone.”

You turn around to face the sleek, blue eyed god. You grab his tie and smirk, pulling him down some to shrink the height difference. “As I recall, you were the one begging for me to come back. Now that we work together again, where’s my thanks?”

Phil makes a light laugh. “I see you’re properly acquainted. How about I leave you two alone?” He winks and walks off. “Don’t do anything Fury would catch!”

You roll your eyes. “Whatever. It’s not like we will.” You look back at the god of Mischief. “Did you really mean everything you said to me at the Halloween party?”

“Of course, (Y/N). I admit, I lost a little self control, but everything was true.” He sets a hand on your waist and pulls you close, smirking softly. “And, um, you’ve never called me ‘Loki-Doki’ or ‘baby’ before.”

You blush. “You were drunk,” you say, but it’s still a horrid excuse. You move your hand from his tie to his shoulder, resting your other hand on his inner elbow.

“And? I call you Princess and Lady and darling and sweetheart and love all the time. Whether or not you’re drunk.” He smirked. “When are you going to admit you’re in love with me?”

“I . . . I—” You stop, blushing. “When are you going to admit you’re in love with me?”

He grins, pulling you even closer. You make a soft noise of surprise. He cups your face and kisses you deeply, and for a second, you’re not sure how to respond. He was kissing you. He was kissing you! HE was kissing YOU! He seems to lose some confidence, confused. You kiss him back, though, forgetting that’s what kissing was.

He kissed you a little harder, definitely with more excitement. You wrap your arms around his neck. He pulls away. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” you say.

[cinanamon]

your hands only — ldh (m)

pairing | donghyuck x reader

genre | smut, stripper!au

word count | 4.7K

synopsis | You had been going to a corner strip club for the past few months. Sure, maybe you only went because you had the hots for one of the performers, but you were originally satisfied from simply watching him from afar.

warning | smut: oral, fingering, degrading, overstimulation, penetration, lap dance, grinding, hair pulling, cockwarming.

You knew it for yourself that you came here too often. Every Thursday night after work, it was routine to say goodbye to your coworkers with a bright and innocent smile to, only an hour or so later, be on the other side of town in a sultry outfit and in a male strip club. You could only imagine what they’d say when you gave a casual nod of acknowledgement to the bodyguard outside before entering the shady corner building.

But you couldn’t really bring yourself to care. Because the minute you stepped inside the club, it felt like the world had flipped over, and you were someone you were not, and the people around you were new and enticing and no one judged you for enjoying seemingly taboo practices.

The black lit room made all neons burn your eyes—shining a woman’s breasts a bright blue, highlighting another man’s lipgloss a deep purple, and the men on their pedestals knew how to catch the light in such an exciting fashion, attracting all eyes to the men with no shame.

The men were truly a sight to behold. They wore all types of sexual looks; some more innocent, some kinky and leather, others practically bare, blacklight body paint covering their skin. It’s what drew you to the club in the first place; boys who were comfortable in their masculinity to accent their features in an almost feminine way, happy to show themselves off in a vulnerable state, to be objects of desire in a confident demeanor.

But one man always stood out to you, and you wouldn’t be ashamed to say he’s the reason you made a habit of coming back, like an addiction. His stage name was Haechan; barely an adult, or so he advertised to draw in the crowds, who some expected to be shy and innocent but probably had the lewdest show of the night.

Back then you were shy. Nervous when you entered, afraid someone might try to drug you, yet curiosity had won you over to check out the club. To see scantily-clad men dancing left you blushing, yet when he came on—his first show—you couldn’t bear to tear your eyes away. His eyes had landed on you, but they barely left yours for the rest of his dance. And maybe it was a one time thing that didn’t mean anything, since you’ve regularly shown each night to watch him, and yet he never lingers.

But you’ve grown from your initial innocence, and you know better than to hope. And so you watch and admire and desire from a safe distance at the base of his platform or the edge of the crowd. And tonight was no different as you maneuvered through the bodies around you, moving up with a confident tilt of your head, waiting for his act to come on.

You stalk up to the bar with a curt greeting to the bartender before asking for a martini. You don’t mind listening to the various conversations drifting around you, the different tones in peoples’ voices as you wait. It’s fun to see the bartender work, and you give a polite smile and tip once your drink is done. You lift the glass to your lips and peek your eyes over the rim as you wander closer to the stage, satisfied as you lower your drink and place a hand in your pocket.

It was another few minutes before a spotlight shone on the curtain and the sexy jazz they had playing was replaced with a sultry song with a definite beat. Instantly, an excited buzz surged through your chest, moving through all your nerves and resting in the pit of your stomach. You wondered what he had tonight; Haechan was never one to disappoint.

He stepped out onto the stage with a suave air about him, his chin above the crowd as a natural smirk settled on his lips, a few stalking steps and he’s gripping the pole, lowering his hips in a bouncing crouch before swinging his body up and around, going upside down from the beginning, leaving you in a trance already.

He wore a black lingerie set, a color he sported often, and you admired the feminine touches on his masculine features. The high-waisted panties he wore criss-crossed from his hip to his waist a couple times, and the matching top went back and forth over his upper chest till the neck-line choked him snugly. Black bracers circled his wrists and you were always fascinated that he would wear heels as he danced.

Your favorite part was his neck up though. Because Haechan never failed to doll up his face, and you knew he did it himself; black smudged eyeliner, highlighted cheekbones, and—your favorite—a red lip. And by the end of the show, his hair was always messy, his skin sweaty, his cheeks flushed, and his lips would be bitten-raw and swollen, and you could never deny your fixation on his lips as he panted to catch his breath.

You were only snapped back to reality and aware of your surroundings when you heard a sharp squeal from your left. You raised a brow in slight irritation as you glanced over, but instantly recognized the woman wearing all white and hiding her eyes, her friends around her trying to pry at her hands with loud giggles. You noticed that Haechan kept glancing at her too, sending her practiced looks of seduction and you guessed she was a bride-to-be; this had to be her bachelorette party. You tried to ignore them in favor of watching Haechan work his way around the pole, grinding against the cold metal, his mouth falling open from the sensation. Somewhere along the line, you had started to gravitate towards the edge of the stage in your trance, and you were startled when he met your eye harshly.

Your grip on the crumpled twenty dollar bill in your pocket tightened as you swallowed, and his focused gaze turned a little more devious. He lowered himself on the pole into a crouch again, but this time, he placed his one knee down into a kneel so he could drag himself closer to you. He smirked as he was now looking directly down at you, but it felt strangely intimate since his bangs shielded his gaze from the other viewers.

You hesitantly withdrew the money from your pocket and his brow quirked. He rolled his hips cheekily as a temptation for you to be generous, but before you could place it on the stage by his hand, he gave a curt shake of his head. Your brows furrowed, and you curled your hand into a fist over the cash again. He let out an inaudible, breathy chuckle as he vaguely brought his hands up from his ankles to his thighs, glossing them over the skin before he playfully snapped his waistband.

Oh.

You had never done this before, since you had started coming here. You met his gaze again and steeled your nerves: this was the luckiest thing that had happened to you. You managed a smirk back as you impishly snaked the cash into the waistband, and his hand skimmed over yours to press the cash lower till it wasn’t visible. He winked at you before rightening himself back up and continuing the performance.

You felt winded as you watched him in awe; time felt slowed for those few moments there, so how did he get back to his routine so smoothly? No one seemed to take much notice to you—he was just getting some cash in a flashy way—so you hurried back to the edge of the crowd before someone might recognize you. You felt exhilarated, like your nerves were on fire, but, God, did you need a drink now. You were way too thirsty for this.

You lingered around the edge of the crowd till he finished, biting your lip as he spun a couple more times, performing his signature sexual moves before he ended with one knee hooked around the pole. Everyone around you echoed screams and cheers, but Haechan just gasped for air, sending out a charming smile as he leaned down to collect the money thrown at him.

And as he stood again, you were consciously aware that he was sporting a bulge this time; usually he was able to control it or at least conceal it, but maybe the set he wore wasn’t as protective. You slowly dragged your gaze up his torso and felt a shiver down your spine to see his eyes set on you again. He raised a brow in amusement as he spun around and made his way behind the curtain, little more to help you understand the behavior.

You tried to shake it off and looked around; his act was over, so maybe you could go get another drink then head home.

You had barely placed in your next order, a Manhattan this time, before you heard hushed bickering and then a call in your direction. Naturally, you glanced over but only drew in your brows out of confusion to see the bridal party inch your way. You uneasily glanced around to see if you should avoid them, but you really wanted the drink you just paid for.

“Yes?” You questioned hesitantly, your hands kept in your coat pockets out of discomfort. The woman who ushered you over sighed dramatically and glanced back at the bride who was blushing but scowling.

“Do you want a private show?” You had just received your drink and taken a sip, but you almost choked on it as she continued, “I scheduled one for her for her last night of freedom, but she’s convinced it’s cheating so she refuses, but I already paid and I’m not wasting my money.”

“Ladies—” You felt tongue-tied. “Why don’t you just have a private show?”

She chuckled. “He’s not really my type, though I do think he knows his way around the pole.”

You eyed her warily but had an inkling who she meant, and you tried to ignore the energy in your gut. “Which dancer?”

“Haechan,” she tilted her head and smirked lightly, “I thought I’d offer it to you because you seemed pretty into the show.”

“I—“ you swallowed with a frown as an unwarranted flush of red came upon your cheeks at the reminder of placing cash in the man’s panties. You glanced behind her at the private room, a room you thought you’d never be able to afford going in, before returning your gaze to her. “You’re sure?”

“Yeah,” she smiled. “Is that a yes?”

“Y-yeah. Thank you so much.” You placed down your half-finished glass before you staggered past her in a slight daze, and she held a hand on your shoulder as she walked you over, almost overly enthusiastic about offering you a lap dance from a man you’ve lusted after for months.

With a quick “have fun!” She opened and shut the door on you, causing you to stumble into the dark room. You blinked a couple times to adjust, and then you saw the vanity in the corner, and the boy in front of it with a figure you instantly wanted to touch and mark.

Haechan stood there, lipstick in hand and hair askew on his sweaty forehead, looking at you with a dulled sense of shock that turned into one of amusement with a dangerous edge. “I was expecting the bride.”

You cleared your throat and prayed your voice wouldn’t waver. “Her friends said she didn’t want it; she sent me in instead.” He only raised his brow, turning back to the mirror and finished painting his lips a deep and sensual red.

“Last time I checked you weren’t married.”

“I’m not,” you shrugged, not being able to look away from his enchanting side profile. “Do I need to be to receive the dance?”

He glanced over briefly with a short snort. “Well it’d be a bit out of the norm to give a single woman the special.”

“There’s a bridal special?” You furrowed your brows. “This isn’t a regular lap dance?”

“No,” he capped the lipstick and placed it down gently, swiping a hand through his hair and patting his forehead with a towel. “I’m wondering if you really deserve it.”

You bit your lip at that. That vague response sent crazy thoughts through your head that shot straight to your core, but then again you weren’t sure if his words were personally hostile. “You don’t have to give it to me if you don’t want to.” You tried to seem nonchalant.

He paused in reapplying his eyeliner to click his tongue. “Do you not want it?”

“I do, but—”

“Then act like it, princess,” he shook his head so his curls bounced out in an intimation of an aftersex halo, and his piercing, accented eyes settled on you, his form stalking over and you felt yourself go stiff. “I’m here to do my job, and I’d rather not have to strain myself to please you.”

“Isn’t that the point of a lap dance?” You tried to quip back as his face neared, his hand ghosting over your cheek before lowering to your hand, pulling you over to a chair you hadn’t seen earlier.

“No, it’s not. I’m here to tease.” And with that he sat you down, picking his phone out of his waistband—where you had placed money earlier, but you rid yourself of the thought quickly—and flicking through a playlist. You watched in anticipation as he clicked on one, and a more sensual song than his performance began to play.

You thought all oxygen would leave your head when he placed down his phone and smoothly straddled your hips. You knew he heard your sharp inhale from the split second smirk that crossed his lips. “You wondered about the bridal special, right?” You could only manage a nod before he draped his arms over the back of your chair and began to roll his hips. “Well you can touch.”

He emphasized his words by pressing his hips into yours and his hands moved from behind you to land on your shoulders, smoothing down your arms and taking your jacket off in the process. You choked back a whine as you slowly brought your hands up to touch his waist where the fabric crossed, and he made a noise low in his throat. Your eyes snapped up to meet his and the corner of his lips quirked up in challenge, the sound of your jacket hitting the floor like the bell for a match to start.

You tightened your grip on his waist, stroking down his hips and he hummed appreciatively, his hands moving behind him to land on your knees, and now his hips circled on your lap. You felt your mouth grow dry as you stared at his crotch; he took notice of your gaze and jerked his hips, snapping them towards your face. Your hands smoothed down to his thighs and you gripped them, your nails digging into the skin. He made a whimpering noise barely blocked by his bitten lip, his head falling back away from you, and yet his pace never faltered. With his head away from you, your desire won over to try something.

Hesitantly, you drew your hand from his outer thigh to inner, circling your thumb into the skin right on the edge of his most sensitive part. You felt him shudder but he didn’t push you away, so with baited breath, you palmed him semi-roughly. He let out a loud gasp, his head rolling around to stare down his torso into your eyes and at your hand over his panties. You took that as encouragement to press a little harder and soon you felt all sense fly out the window because once the music ended, your other hand crawled over his torso and he leaned up and over to connect your lips, his hands moving from your knees to tangle in your locks.

By now you knew this was farther than he meant, farther than the bridal special includes, but maybe this was personal. You weren’t given much time to dwell on it because Haechan pulled you back harshly by the hair, separating from the bruising kiss with a gasp as he made quick work of biting flowers into your neck and leaving butterfly kisses. Your hands couldn’t find a steady place over his torso, feeling dazed as he tilted your head back down to meet your lips.

This time when you parted, you couldn’t help the moan that escaped your mouth at seeing his smudged red lip. You chased his lips again, causing his eyes to flutter and hands to softly press on your shoulders to have enough time to breath. “I hope you know I’d never let this slide with anyone else.”

“I’m sorry?” You panted, looking at his disheveled hair as he worked at stripping you of your pants.

“This bridal special? Usually I would never make an exception; if you’re not the person who was intended for the dance, I wouldn’t do it. But when it comes to you…”

“Do you actually know who I am?” You put a briefly-halting hand on his forearm to stop him in his ministrations. “Like you know—?”

“Your name and that you come every time I perform, yeah,” you could tell he was struggling to ignore his bulge in favor of responding to you but he was finding it increasingly hard. “I’m Donghyuck, by the way. I’d rather you call me that during sex.”

You let him continue as you dwelled on his words in a haze, surprised pleasantly at the news. You’re only torn out of it when your pants are off and you feel his kiss at the inside of your knee. Your eyes softened when he looked up at you with hooded eyes. He quickly kissed up to your inner thigh, pushing up your shirt and tugging so you take it off in a rush, his mouth pulling away so his hand could take its place over your panties. He hummed as he circled where a wet spot had formed, but you couldn’t bring yourself to feel any shame as he tugged down the sides to reveal yourself to him.

His delicately moved forward to kitten-lick at your core, a long stripe at your folds before mouthing at your nub. You tightened your grip on the armrest but couldn’t resist throwing your head back when he looked up at you innocently, his eyeliner messy around his big eyes and his gorgeous red lips pleasing you.

Donghyuck ate you out like his life depended on it, like he couldn’t have enough of your flavor and you’re not sure if he ever left you long enough to breathe. He sucked on your clit, dragged his teeth along your folds and dove his tongue past them to lap at your leaking flow. You had been making mindless sounds throughout his actions and once you felt an orgasm building, you tried to push him away as you twitched. His eyebrows furrowed and he grabbed your hand, placing it back down on the armrest as he went back to work at you with a new vigor, and suddenly you felt one of his fingers enter you without resistance, your hips jerking as you keen. Your orgasm built twice as quickly as he fingered at you relentlessly, almost excited to taste your juices on his tongue and the thought alone sent you over. You felt yourself go with a loud whine and trembling of your muscles, and when you managed to open your eyes, you were greeted by the sight of Donghyuck leaning back on his haunches, drawing his cum-coated finger into his mouth and sucking with a moan, his eyes lidding as he pulled it back out.

His eyes settled on your core once more and he thumbed at your clit, causing you to whine and squirm. He placed a hand on your hip and looked up, licking his lips. “You can handle another, right? You taste so sweet.” You made a low begging sound but he already dipped two fingers into your heat and began to drill them back and forth so quickly that a loud squelch was heard each time. You gasped and tried to kick away but he held against your weak attempts at stopping your overstimulation, and soon another orgasm ripped through you with a broken whimper. He brought his lips to your core and lapped at your slick with such satisfied fervor you weren’t sure you could handle actually having sex with him if you were already close to being winded from two orgasms from oral alone.

“D-Donghyuck—”

“Ready, princess?” And he stood and slowly pulled you up from sitting, holding you tightly by the waist to keep your shaky legs upright. He briefly met your gaze and you saw his smirk; he knew you were exhausted, that brat. You weakly dropped your hands to his waist, pulling at the waistband of the panties slightly teasingly, and he hummed as your hand slowly moved down to grab at his member through the fabric, and suddenly, you didn’t feel so tired.

“Your turn?” You asked, almost hopefully. The thought of deepthroating him, giving him as intense of pleasure and hearing him moan, sent a surprisingly strong rush of arousal through you again. He almost seemed to grimace as your other hand slipped under his top to trace his nipple, hardening it.

“No, not this time. I just want to be inside you.” You tightened your grip on his member with a pout but smiled a little teasingly and relented when he choked as you felt it twitch in your hand.

“Fine, but I want to repay you sometime.”

“Oh, trust me,” he hummed, turning you around and urging you forward to grab onto the back of the chair. “You will definitely have chances to.”

You bit your lip and looked over your shoulder to see him push down the panties he wore to pull out his member and you made an appreciative sound. He glanced up and smiled knowingly as he stroked himself a few times and quickly put on a condom that he must have grabbed from the dresser earlier.

You shook your ass back and forth and he chuckled as he stepped forward, smoothing a hand down your spine and hooking it around your hip, kneading the skin with his fingers. “You ready?”

“Does it seem like I’m not?” You smirked over your shoulder at him and he scoffed, smacking your ass lightly.

“I’m just checking, God, you brat. Let me know if it hurts.” And then he pushed his tip into your core. You made a groan in your throat at the feeling of the stretch, dropping your head to look down in between your arms. You felt him circle his fingers over your hips, but you weren’t sure if it was to help you relax or to distract him from drilling into you while you adjusted.

His lips fell on your shoulder and bit a few more possessive hickeys into the skin, and a hand snaked under your torso to close in on your throat lightly. “Head up.” His voice was teasing but warning, and the squeeze he gave before letting go as he started to move his hips sent a shock through you, and you bowed your back as to give him good access and to remind yourself not to drop your head.

Almost instantly, it was like he switched; he brought one foot up on the seat and began to rock his hips at a brutal pace, rolling his into yours at an expert angle. You let out a cry and your hands tightened on the seat, your head starting to fall as the feeling overtook you for a moment.

But only a moment was necessary for him to wrap your hair around his hand and yank it back up. You yelped at the sharp sensation then keened as his front went flush against your back for him to tut disappointingly, with an edge, “What did I tell you? Can you do nothing right, princess?”

“I-I’m trying not to.” You stuttered between your pants, sure your juices had to be leaking down your legs from his movements and words.

“Trying isn’t good enough,” he sighed, but it came out more like a hiss. “Maybe I shouldn’t let you cum if you can’t follow simple directions.”

“N-no, I can, I can,” you pressed your ass against him almost unconsciously in hopes it’d entice him to not deny you pleasure.

He only squeezed your ass for it, causing you to let out a raw gasp. “Don’t test your luck, brat. We’ll see how generous I feel.” He chuckled breathily—sadistically—and let go of your hair just enough for him to adjust his position to fuck you easier and hopefully reach your orgasm faster. It only seemed to be seconds before you felt the familiar feeling in your lower stomach.

“D-Donghyuck, please.”

“Are you about to cum? Already?” You could hear the smirk in his voice and it made your face flush in excited shame.

“Yes, I am,” you were finding it hard to think and keep your eyes open, and you knew you’d start to cry if he denied you.

His hand massaged at your waist and lower back before he kissed your shoulder, “I’ll let it slide this time. You can let go, princess.” And with a few more strokes, you came undone on his member, meeting his movements with your own hips with a whimper. Thankfully, he didn’t get onto you for dropping your head and quivering all over, and he held you up by the waist as he continued pouring into you to reach his own high, grunting as he managed to reach the edge. You almost came again by just how high-pitched and beautiful his moan was, and when you glanced over your shoulder, his closed eyes and open mouth were just as arousing of a sight.

But you were both spent, you knew, and he turned you around so he could collapse into the seat and pull you into his lap. You hummed in part surprise and comfort as you realized you were cockwarming him, his head on your shoulder as he tried to catch his breath. You reached a hand back to card through his hair and he chuckled lightly, kissing at the nape of your neck.

“Sorry if I left marks,” he sighed, sounding unbelievably tired. Any sadistic or teasing qualities seemed to be out of his system.

“It’s okay,” you promise, “I love marks.”

“Good, I’ll leave more from now on.”

“From now on?” You looked at him best you could, seeing as he was still inside you.

“Did you not want to do this again?” He finally raised his head, his eyes opening and refocusing.

You felt yourself turn pink at how soft yet hot he looked in all his aftersex glory. “N-no, I want to but is this feeling driven or just sex?”

He hummed and kissed your jaw. “You think too much,” he sighed with a chuckle. “If I’m still here letting you sit on my dick, what do you think?”

You whacked his arm but turned in his lap to straddle him and rest your own head on his shoulder. “Shut up, but...good.”

He smiled sleepily and rubbed at your lower back, closing his eyes again and ignoring the fact that he was still at work.

Because right now, he was content. And he was sure one of his coworkers could buy him some time.

[some-cookie-crumbz]

Askdjkl that one shot you wrote about Hawks and Fuyumi having baby fever was the cutest thing ever! Do you think you could write one where they tell friends and family they're having a baby?

I HOPE YOU’RE READY FOR A BUNCH OF REALLY FLUFFY NONSENSE AND PREGNANCY PUNS ANON BECAUSE THAT’S WHAT THIS IS!!!!!

It wasn’t often that Fuyumi and Keigo were the ones to host the family dinners. Despite the fact they had a house just as grand as the Todoroki estate with ample room to entertain her family, since being released from the hospital and tentative amends being made, Rei adored being the one to host. Fuyumi and her brothers never pushed the subject because they knew it stemmed from her wanting to make up for the years the family lost. She’d missed the chance to be a mother to them for a long time - especially with Shoto - so she wanted to do all she could for them as adults. And, while Fuyumi didn’t have any personal experience with that, she could understand that feeling.

And she would have an even better grasp of it soon enough.

She smiled as she looked over the table, making sure for the second time that it was immaculate and the little centerpiece was dead center. It was one she and Keigo had pieced together over the weekend as a cute little nod to why they’d insisted on hosting this time around. It was a little construction paper bird’s nest with a little ceramic egg in the center. Gently cradling the little egg, Keigo had slipped two of his smaller feathers in, but had dyed one of them to be mostly white with little red flecks.

Fuyumi would be lying if she said she hadn’t swooned a little when she saw it.

“Bathroom and sitting room are all immaculate, babe,” Keigo hummed, arms slipping around her from behind and pulling her against him from behind. She giggled and turned to face him proper, eagerly meeting him for a few quick kisses.

“Thank you, love,” she hummed softly, giving his shoulders a small squeeze. “So, just making sure, our headcount for tonight is nine in total, right?”

“Ten. Both of us, both of your parents, your brothers, Natsu’s lady friend, Fumikage, Rumi and Moe,” he said. She nodded to herself, remembering that she’d picked up enough to accommodate that party size. She’d figured that sukiyaki would be a good idea. She’d almost forgotten that Natsuo had said Nezumi would be able to attend. Ever since they’d graduated from college, their work schedules at the hospital were constantly shifting. “I mean, technically there’s eleven but~!” he sing-songed at her.

She giggled and kissed his cheek. “I can tell you’re really excited about telling them,” she mused, glancing to the left slightly, “Given how fluffed up your feathers are getting.”

Her husband’s grin widened and he leaned down to rest his forehead against hers. “Can you blame me? We’re going to have a baby! And we can finally tell everyone that matters!”

She giggled and kissed him again quickly, humming at the feel of his hands smoothing along her sides. “If you don’t get those wings under control everyone is going to know something is going on before we start dropping the hints,” she teased.

He huffed softly and nuzzled her again, his wings moving to curl around her as well. “I’m a pro at poker face, babe. Right now I just wanna enjoy this,” he murmured with a contented little sigh.

The two had been trying for a good couple months to get pregnant, deciding they were ready to officially start their family off. They’d met with professionals to discuss all the details regarding Fuyumi going off her birth control and what to expect following it. Fuyumi expected symptoms to be her first indication and to hit early on, as that had been how her mother’s pregnancies had all gone, but they didn’t realize until she took a pregnancy test. That had been three weeks ago and ever since the reveal, she and Keigo had both been on cloud night. Shortly afterwards, she’d worked to schedule the dinner with everyone so they could reveal it all at once.

It was hard given how many people in their lives were Pro Heroes or worked jobs with sporadic schedules but finally the night had arrived.

Fuyumi perked up when she heard a knock at the door, she and Keigo exchanging excited looks. “Show time,” he mused, pressing another kiss to her cheek.

She beamed before heading to the door, smiling brightly at Rei, Shoto and Fumikage on the other side. “Hello,” she preened, stepping aside so they could enter.

“Hello, darling,” Rei hummed, pausing to briefly embrace her daughter once she entered. The four of them settled into casual chatter as they walked to join Keigo in the sitting room. “Thank you both for having us this evening.”

“It’s our pleasure! You deserve a break from having to do all the cooking and clean-up afterwards, sometime,” Keigo agreed, his wings in their usual relaxed stance when he wasn’t on patrol. He and Rei also exchanged quick hugs before he grinned at Shoto and Fumikage. “Having fun now that you’ve both officially broken out of the sidekick slots?” he teased.

While he chatted up the younger two, there was another knock at the door. Natsuo and Nezumi were the next to arrive, followed shortly afterwards by Enji, and finally Rumi and Moe. The last couple arrived with a small bag as well. “Been a while since we’ve all gotten together, so we brought some of the good shit,” Rumi laughed, holding the bag up. Inside were a few bottles of sake with a label she couldn’t place in the moment.

“Thank you, you two,” she said happily. She escorted them to the sitting room where some passionate discussion between Keigo, Natsuo and Fumikage before heading to the kitchen to put the sake away for later. She then got started on cooking, smiling at the sounds of excitable merriment in the other room. The warmth in her home left her stomach fluttering with delight. She gently settled a hand on her abdomen and glanced down. “You’re going to be brought into such a lovely family.” she whispered before perking back up to resume preparing the sukiyaki.

She was almost done setting places and moving the spread of food to the table proper when Keigo poked his head in, still absolutely glowing. “Need any help with anything?” he asked.

“Just finishing up,” she hummed, indicating the place settings. In a matter of seconds, there were feathers skirting to and fro to complete the task. “Keigo!” she giggled.

“What?” he mused, wrapping his arms around her waist to pull her in close. He leaned forward to press a few quick pecks to her temple. “I don’t want you having to do anything more than what’s absolutely necessary!”

“I’m not an invalid, Kei,” she mused, looping her arms around his neck and relaxing in his grasp.

Before he could open his mouth to offer any retort, Natsuo’s head poked around the corner. “Smells good; is food ready?” he asked with a sly grin.

Fuyumi blinked before snorting. “You’re such a grubber, Natsu,” she chided playfully as she moved out of Keigo’s grasp.

“But is that a yes?”

She rolled her eyes. She loved her brothers but sometimes they were just so single-minded. “Yes. Go get everyone else,”

The others were quick to follow him in shortly thereafter, their meal laid out before them all and playful banter starting up. “It smells like you’ve prepared this Kansai-style,” Enji commented with a note of pride in his voice.

“Not bad,” Rumi drawled happily, cheekily grinning at the retired Pro, “but not as good as Kanto-style.”

He scowled at that. “Are you daft? Kansai-style is a more traditional approach with a fuller flavor!”

“Certainly explains how you’re filling out your clothes more than you ever did as a Pro, Endie,” she teased back.

As the pair of them continued their back and forth, Rei’s eyes fell to the centerpiece nest. “Oh, did one of your students make that, Fuyumi?” she asked.

“No, we did,” she giggled, setting into her own spot.

“Since we’re expecting,” Keigo said, drawing the word out for emphasis, “we figured we should go the extra mile.”

The Todoroki matriarch smiled at them. “It’s a rather cute little piece, I will say,” Then, without another word, she turned to patiently break up the escalating argument between Enji, Rumi and - probably feeling left out of bullying the old man - Natsuo over the superior style of sukiyaki. Fuyumi and Keigo exchanged looks, silently agreeing that more hints would be needed.

They tried alluding to there being a bun in the oven.

Fuyumi mentioned them needing to repurpose a spare room.

Keigo made some comment about being in a family way.

Fuyumi suggested the idea of little feet pattering about their home’s halls.

But even with all these hints laid out… It seemed no one at the table was picking up on them.

Keigo pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed heavily as they cleared the table together, their guests still settled at the dinner table and chatting amicably amongst themselves while they awaited dessert. According to some website she’d found, in America pudding was associated with being pregnant - for some odd reason she still couldn’t place - and had thought that would be a funny, cute little ribbon on top of the reveal present. “Well that didn’t go as expected,” he mumbled.

“Agreed,” she said, her own disappointment starting to trickle into her voice. She hadn’t really expected any of the men in her family to catch wise to what they were implying, if she was honest. She knew her father and brothers were incredibly intelligent but they weren’t always the best when it came to social cues. She had, however, thought her mother would pick up on it all. “I think we’ll just have to say it outright.”

“Yeah, I think you’re right. I mean, it’s not the most fun way to tell everyone you’re pregnant but it’ll get it out there, right?” he said with a reassuring grin.

She nodded as they picked up the little dishes of pudding, Keigo’s feathers carrying the ones they couldn’t handle themselves.

They reentered the dining room to another small squabble.

“You’re reading too much into things, Nez,” Natsuo said to the young woman beside him, her little mouse ears drooping slightly.

“Agreed,” Enji said with a small huff.

“B-But,” she trailed uncertainly before perking up at their return. 

“I believe that Nezumi-San may have a point, actually,” Fumikage cut in, his arms crossed over his chest and his eyes cracking open. All attention had switched over to him. “I mean, her arguments are valid and logical. Dismissing it all as a misinterpretation feels ignorant at best.”

Shoto opened his mouth to speak but then perked up when he spotted them returning. “Ah, perfect timing, you two,” he said.

“What’s going on?” she asked as she approached her parents to hand them their pudding.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” Rei hummed, taking the little dish and setting it on the table. “Nezumi-Chan thinks you're pregnant because of the little nest decor you two made.”

“That’s not the only reason, though!” Rumi cut in, slapping a hand down on the table.

“Oh, and Mirko is also on her side,” Enji snorted.

“They’ve been making weird comments all night!” she barked back, ears twitching frantically in her irritation.

“Ah, yes,” Shoto chimed flatly, “because being aware of the usage of your living space is strange.”

Fuyumi blinked slowly, her eyes sweeping over to Nezumi. The poor dear looked so flustered by being the one to accidentally cause this little battle. Before she could offer any kind of comforting words to her, though, Keigo blurted, “Oh thank God at least one of you realized what we were doing!”

There was silence for a moment as all eyes turned to Fuyumi herself, most of them stunned but two seeming satisfied and one giddy.

Rei was the first to break the silence. “Fuyumi…? A-Are you..?”

She nodded, feeling the grin split up her face at everything finally coming out. “Yes, Mother. I’m pregnant,” she giggled, happy tears starting to prick at the corners of her eyes.

In a matter of seconds the older woman was scrambling up to embrace her with an excited squeal, nearly barreling the pair of them over. Rumi cackled in manic delight as she flashed Enji a crude hand gesture. Natsuo gave his girlfriend, who looked to be pouting, a quiet and sheepish apology. Moe got up to clap Keigo on the back while Fumikage and Shoto also got up; one to shake his mentor’s hand in congratulations and the other to hug his giddy older sister and mother.

Fuyumi and Keigo exchanged amused looks from the short space between them. They’d chalk the night up to a roaring success.

[the-fiction-witch]

Control P13

TV SHOW THE QUEENS GAMBIT COUPLE: BENNY WATTS X READER RATING: SEXY

I sat on a little chair watching across the department store y/n walking around the baby department, I had given up hours ago and sat down where I could still see her. she walked around with her cart, "Y/n?" I called but nothing "Y/n? Little lady?"

"yes Benny?" she calls back as she had heard me that time

"Come here little lady," I told her so she smiled and came over with her little cart "what have you got?"

"Baby stuff"

"Yeah what you've been shopping for hours?"

"I got some tiny clothes, tiny shoes, little bottles and toys" she smiled

"Okay... why my darling is everything pink?"

"Because It's a pretty colour"

"What if it's a boy?"

"Then he will like pink" I said

"But he's a boy"

"Boy's can't like pink?"

"Yeah but... if he had only pink clothes and pink stuff it's gonna get annoying for him, and what if we do have a girl and she hates pink"

"Well. what do you suggest benny?" "I know a gender-neutral colour scheme"

"Do you?" "Black and white"

"You are not dressing our baby up like a chessboard?"

"why not? He'll match the apartment"

"Benny our baby doesn't need to match the aesthetic"

"Maybe not yours. I would like the baby to fit the... chess theme that we have in the apartment and in general when we go places"

"The baby doesn't need to fit the aesthetic benny" she laughs going back to her shopping

"So you're telling me? we go to the Us championship next year and you don't want the baby to have a little black stroller and white blankets while we walk around the hotel?" I smirked as I followed her "So people think your baby is cute?"

"People will think the baby is cute if it's dressed like a chessboard, or a bunny rabbit" she giggled showing a tiny rabbit onzie

"But... if it could be in a chess colour scheme"

"Benny you dress our baby like a chess piece I am letting it thrown up on you"

"Ohh it will. I know it will."

"fine then I will make you watch down there the whole time I am in labour"

"Fine. we should probably sort out the big stuff? like a crib. a high chair. a pram. whatever those bouncy things are"

"bouncy things?"

"those things" I said pointing to them

"That's a yoga ball benny. it's not for babies" "Then why is it in the baby section?"

"It's for pregnant ladies"

"Ooh. then what is that crazy looking thing?"

"That's for getting breast milk in bottles" she laughs

"Oh yeah, your gonna start having milk come out your boobs," I said absentmindedly and she glared at me "what? you are? Ohh does that mean I can't squeeze them anymore?" "Not very hard no"

"I best make use of my time" I smiled cuddling her and grabbing her boobs

"we are in a store!" she whines pushing me away "You want a job to do?"

"Yes."

"Go find toys"

"Toys?"

"Not plushie ones, toy ones. you're smart I want baby to be smart so go find things like what you plaid with as a child"

".... who do you think I was as a child?"

"Like the smarty child playing with the brain toys?"

"No. more the evil child that went around hitting other kids with a stick. and poking dead things

"I would have liked to have known that before you impregnated me benny"

"well now you know"

"That's the kinda stuff they send kids to doctors about?"

"Ohh they did. like four times. I would bite them"

"How old were you?"

"Like three"

"Just go look for toys benny"

"Fine." I sighed giving her a kiss and going to find the toy section "and buy more than a chessboard"

"The baby has to have a chessboard. from the moment it's born"

"Yeah but we own twenty-six of them"

".... fine! I can't choose its toys, I can't dress the baby. what exactly am I involved in?"

"you did your job, it's inside me now your jobs are building baby furniture and take care of me until such time as I birth a small human" she explained "Also we should hurry I really want a crumpet"

"The sex or the food?"

"... both"

"Five minutes little lady, then we shall go home and ... rest"

"good, Ohh I also need a new lipstick while were here" she says scampering off

"Great we'll be here another six hours" I sighed

"what was that?"

"Nothing darling"

I sat at the table going though my game, trying to get some work done, while Y/n was working on setting up the corner of our apartment. I had built the crib and a couple other bits we bought and she was setting it all up putting blankets and toys around in the little places all while she stroked her babybump, I couldnt help looking up often keeping an eye on her.

I smiled resting my chin on my hand and my elbow on the table watching her across the room, She stood sorting the babies stuff folding little blankets and hugging the plushies as she sorted it all out from the shopping bags, in her little fluffy slippers, her sweet white and blue stripped thigh high socks, her little light blue dress with buttons down her chest a couple of them undone, Her large baby bump sat so perfectly even if she often had to becareful not to bump it into things where she still wasn't use to it, her hair in the sweet intense curls fresh out of her rollers, Gently humming a little tune.

"what?" she asked as she spotted me looking at her and I just shrug "Ohh you don't have something to say?" she laughs

"You look pretty" I told her

"Sure I do" she sighed

"You do." I smiled "You look sexy preganant"

"I'm a boat"

"A pretty boat"

"Benny!"

"What?"

"You shouldn't make fun of me"

"I'm not making fun of you."

"How could I ever be sexy with this... thing"

"That thing is our child"

"Still. it's not sexy to look like your trying to steal a watermelon from a supermarket"

"I still think you look sexy" I told her "I still think your sexy. I would still go crazy if you wore that little lacy nightie"

"I can't benny it doesn't fit me anymore"

"I'm sure I can find one in your infinate wardrobe something you and baby can fit in"

"I highly doubt you will find me desireable with this" she says

"I think I will"

"I bet you won't"

"I bet I will"

"Will you now?"

"I know I will" I smirked

"Fine but if I'm right then you have to do the night feedings for three months when baby comes"

"Alright, but if I'm right, then I get to snuggle with you as much as I want. and You will make me victoria sponge cupcakes."

"alright" she nods "You can finish up, and I'll meet you in the bedroom" she smiled giving my head a kiss as she walked to the bathroom.

I sat reading my book but often getting distracted watching her walk around on her huge dress usually holding her hips or her bump. "Ooh bulbs gone" she says as she clicked the ceiling lights on

"Ahh, damn thing that's the fourth one that's gone in there. I think the fitting needs changing. Or I need to ring the landlord to come look at the electric box again" I explain

"Possibly" she says going to the kitchen draw

"What are you doing?"

"Changing the light bulb?" She shurgs

"Are you?" I laughed putting my book down watching her slowly walk over she put up her arm trying so hard to reach it but honestly I don't think she could reach it when she wasn't seven months pregnant, let alone now. I held back my laughs a little watching her try before got up and did it for her

"I was about to do it" she pouted

"Of course you where little lady" I smiled giving her head a kiss and pulling her into a cuddle resting my head on hers "y/n, you are seven months pregnant little lady. You can't do everything you use to"

"Who says I can't?"

"... The doctor"

"Well what does he know"

".... Uuuuuhh alot"

"I can do it Benny I'm not some damn invalid"

"I'm not saying you are. I'm saying you need to slow down a little be careful. Your growing a human inside you you should be resting and being careful. Don't want something bad to happy do we?"

"No. I just don't like sitting around not doing anything," she whines "I have things to do"

"I know you don't. But that's why I'm here I'll take care of my lovely lady, till baby comes Iam your salve darling I'll wait on you hand and foot if you'd want me too"

"Benny" she giggled

"No I mean it. You need to rest" I told her "now you sit down I'll make you some lunch"

"Thank you" she smiled

"Your welcome" I laughed going to the fridge taking the little list I stuck today the fridge off it was a page I ripped out one of her pregnancy books about what she can and can't eat looking in the fridge and at the list trying to think of what I could make her "now... would you like a salad?"

"No" she pouts as she sat on my chair

"Would you like... cereal?"

"No"

"Would you like... mac and cheese?" I asked before I remembered as she bolted for the bathroom and I could hear her throwing up "sorry hun I forgot" I told her "I'll make you some french toast okay? That'll settle baby down"

I went and began making her french toast the way she likes it and eventually she came back "hey, you okay now?"

"Don't mention that stuff"

"I know I'm sorry little lady, I forgot." I laughed giving her a kiss "ah... I uhhh y/n I love you And I don't wanna be rude but... I need to wash my mouth out now because, I can taste the morning sickness" I sighed quickly washing my mouth as I could taste it, it was horrible.

"Sorry Benny"

'ita fine I was dumb for giving you a kiss before you washed your mouth out"

"It's not morning sickness either it's like one pm"

"I class it as morning sickness as you only woke up like two hours ago"

"And morning sickness lasts all day," she says loitering over where I was cooking

"Then why not just call it pregnant sickness?"

"I don't know" she shurgs trying to steal the first finished bit

"Oi! No little lady its too hot you'll burn your pretty mouth"

"What do you care?"

"Well I might wanna use that pretty mouth later" I winked giving her butt a pinch

"Benny!" She whines

"What?"

"Dirty daddy"

"Well how can I not be when mummy's so sexy and beautiful" I cooed giving her a kiss on the head