#garden state securities

[polysyndetonaddictsupportgroup]

I was reading sea glass gardens for like the 8th time in a row (listen I was praying to the gods for a fic focuses on Megumi & Yuuta, for a fic that shows Megs dynamic with the Zenins more, and for a fun little gojo adopts the fushiguro siblings and forced his friends to play aunt and uncle. You checked all my boxes. I am in debt to you now.) and its the way I'm still seeing the little details that should've been so fucking obvious to me —

Megumi and Tsumiki fucking around and adopting some of Gojo’s habits and sayings? I know he was so proud that his children is becoming mini versions of him. Toji is crying in the depths of hell while Mamaguro is happy as hell in the pearly gates.

“It’s a garden” it took so long for me to peep that this was his domain. Like tfw when your domain is fucking you up. I pray that Gege shows us his completed domain. Actually I PRAY GEGE LET MEGUMI SHOW OFF HIS FUCKING POTENTIAL. But alas Gege is a coward.

THE NICOTINE PATCH? Oh Shoko my beloved. I get her. I fucking hate cancer sticks but if I had to spend time with corpses, being forced to converse with the higher ups, and having to be friends with Gojo and Geto AND witness their divorce. Well. I would’ve smoked something too. Like goddamn these bitches should’ve been at the club.

The little callbacks to the playbooks? How petty the sorcerer world gotta be for them to have cheat sheets on their enemies. Is that not crazy? Is this who they are? Petty bastards.

toji pulling up to get married in sweats. megumi killing curses at such a young age for his sister? toji giving megumi shit to get him to stfu? oh megumi you dodged a bullet with toji.

BUT WHAT I REALLT WANTED TO WAS THE BATHHOUSE. Megumi needs to go feral as a threat cause imagine how humiliating that must’ve been. A bunch of assholes & such watching you like some fucking cult. I really hope that Megumi and Gojo have some type of reassuring talk about his time at the Zenins.

(Yaga and Gojo going at it while Panda in the room is so funny to be but…it’s also kind of sad. Like imagine seeing your dad figure basically be okay, well not okay but not willing to fight back, about the higher ups and everything.)

Obsessed with the fact that I can toss up what seems to me to be a random niche interest and find a community of people who wanted exactly that. I’m thrilled I checked off your boxes.

The bathhouse was designed to be humiliating by nature. I talked about it more on another post (but fuck if I know where it is), but the point of including that whole bit was that I really couldnt think of any better way to emphasize that megumi wasn’t a person to them.

On its face, the private bathhouse with servants tending to it could be a sign of status. It’s kind of an old world nobility thing to have? Which fits with the Zenin, who are very traditional and value Megumi as their most treasured person to be born to the clan in centuries. He would be presumptive heir if Gojo hadn’t intervened. So they’d easily be able to cast this in their own minds as a good thing, as a way they’re taking care of him. He’s not subjected to the communal bathhouses or small private bathrooms like the majority of the clan—they’ve given him his own private facilities and servants to care for him in it.

However, once you take away Megumi’s consent, it becomes an absolutely humiliating and degrading experience that only happens for the Zenin’s comfort and not his own.

I spoke about this in the other post in more detail, but I tried to imply that this wasn’t the first time the Zenin had done this to him. And there’s two points that kind of implicate that—when Maki’s talking to Yuuta about how it used to be when Megumi was a kid, she says the first thing that they would do when he arrived in the clan was hand him over to the servants to make him presentable. She also talks about how viciously he hated the way they’d make him look in the clan, including stomping the clothes they’d make him wear in the mud. When Megumi himself is talking about the bathhouse, he says he was given over to the servants like when he was a kid. This wasn’t a new experience for him. They weren’t doing this to him for the first time. They did this to him when he was a kid, and he’s reliving all of that trauma anew.

In my mind, it was a product of how selfish the Zenin’s love for megumi is.

He’s their favorite doll. He’s a possession. They want him to look and act exactly the way they expect from him, and they despise any divergence from what they want the ten shadows to be. And they hate it when they’re reminded of how Gojo took him from them.

They don’t want him dressed in modern clothes. They don’t want his hair styled in a manner similar to Gojo’s. They want him to look like the Ten Shadows they always wanted, and one surefire way of controlling that is to simply do it themselves, whether or not megumi is on board.

And the thing is? It is such a fundamentally minor thing to let someone bathe and dress themselves. It would have cost the Zenin so so little to let Megumi do it. Even if they were still dictating what clothes he wore and how he styled his hair (which would still rob him of his autonomy on its own, they could have at least let him do the actual act of bathing and dressing himself. They could have violated him a little bit less than they already were. The biggest inconvenience it would have risked to them would be him doing something not to their exact standards and losing a few minutes to making him redo it. But on Megumi’s end, it symbolizes a huge source of autonomy and comfort. Letting Megumi bathe himself really does impact so little for them, but for Megumi, it could have saved him from lasting trauma.

The Zenin do it to him anyway because they value their minor conveniences over his very bodily autonomy. They don’t even recognize that as a genuine concern. He’s a possession to them. An object. They don’t actually love him, and the love they think they have is actively dangerous to him. They will violate him in a very fundamental way just so they can make sure he looks how the ten shadows is supposed to look, and they won’t care.

Being forcibly bathed against your will is just humiliating, especially at Megumi’s age, and it’s one of the things that hurt him the worst out of everything the Zenin just did to him. I think Megumi takes physical pain better than he does humiliation. Having to be exposed and vulnerable the way he was with other people watching was a more effective torture than locking him in a room with curses for days.

But there’s extra layers to it if you consider 1) this is something the Zenin have done to him before and 2) this is something that he could have stopped.

When Megumi was six, he was definitely at the age where he was already bathing himself. Some parenting books say parents should still be helping at that age, but his parents were completely checked out well before then. He had already been handling all his hygiene needs on his own. Having strange adults force him to let them do it for him was a traumatizing and infantilizing experience that represented one of the many ways the Zenin robbed him of all control over his own life when they had him.

But now it’s happening again.

And megumi probably didn’t think the Zenin would do that to him again, walking into this. He probably explained it away as them doing that to him because he was still a little kid at the time. He told himself it happened because he was six, and he’s not six anymore.

Having it all happen again was a very visceral reminder of how helpless his abusers used to make him, and immediately kicked him back down to that level with a very potent reminder. It’s trauma reawakening trauma. He felt like he was six again. He probably told himself for a long time that it would never happen again and it still did.

The other thing is that he’s a lot more capable in a fight than a six year old. He’s a grade two jujutsu sorcerer. He’s a fighter. And he’s being manhandled by servants who don’t have a lot of cursed energy, if they’re even sorcerers at all, and aren’t meant to be combatants. These are people he should be able to defend himself against easily. He should be able to stop them from doing this to him again.

For whatever reason, he couldn’t.

Maybe Gojos theory about them having something on him was right. Or maybe he was too worn down and broken from the cursed spirits. Maybe it was something else. Whatever the reason, this is something that he would have told himself he was strong enough to stop, and then he wasn’t. He either had to let it happen or couldn’t stop it even if he tried. It’s a new level of helplessness and humiliation that it made him experience.

In short, megumi does deserve to go feral over the bathhouse, and probably needs to. He’s really not okay over it. It would probably be cathartic.

[plutotheplum]

The First Fall of Snow

emperor!zayne x concubine!reader - read part 2!

summary: the emperor isn't interested in his concubines, but an encounter with you is enough to change his mind.

cw: nsfw (18+) - mdni!!, smut, p in v, oral sex, praise kink, breast play, masturbation, thigh riding, mentions of exhibitionism, virginity loss

wc: 7.7k

a/n: i did imagine long-haired zayne for this (like his master of fate card!) and he just gives off emperor vibes soooo

also on ao3!

The Emperor was a peculiar man. 

He was not a man who fancied company. When the years for marriage had passed, his royal advisors had grown increasingly anxious. All potential candidates were refused, princesses from far lands given profuse apologies and lavish gifts in hopes of quelling their anger after they had traveled such vast distances, only for the Emperor to turn them away. 

In an effort to try and draw out the Emperor’s romantic and sexual nature, several concubines were gathered. The Emperor had never overseen this, the affair carried out in veiled whispers as his advisors had sought to dispel their desperation by pooling their efforts into securing an heir for the dynasty. 

That was what you were told when you arrived in the palace anyways. It had been a year since you were hand-picked as a concubine, along with a few other girls who had been eager to accept when the opportunity had been provided to them.

You had only met the Emperor a handful of times, when you first been brought to the palace and during private meetings that had been scheduled. He had never touched you or any of the other girls, had never sought after pleasure or secured an heir, much to the chagrin of Imperial staff. Like any other person, you thought it was odd. 

Part of you felt as though you were wasting away in this palace, days spent outside by the pretty gardens and overlooking the fish in the ponds, entertaining stray cats or inside, like you were now.

You stare down at the steaming water in the teapot, watching as the tea leaves stain the water. The blurry reflection of your face looks back up at you and there’s a soft sigh escaping you, wondering what might’ve been if you hadn’t been chosen.

Such thoughts are lost when a short, stout man comes hobbling in. He grabs at your arm, teacup filled with hot tea tipping to the side. You wince when the hot liquid lands against your skin, burning you.

“The Emperor needs tea,” the eunuch hisses, pulling another set of teaware from the shelves as he tugs you closer.

“Why does that involve me?,” you ask, trying to free yourself so you can soothe your irritated skin under cool water.

“You will deliver it to him,” he says, fiddling with your robes and straightening out the fabric to make you look more presentable.

“Have another one of the girls-” you begin to complain, shrinking away when he sends you a glare.

You huff out a breath, making sure the pin in your hair is in place. There’s no time to tend to the burn on your forearm, the reddened skin hidden by the sleeves of your robes as the eunuch passes you the tray. 

Sending him a glare of your own, you don’t stay behind to be chastised. Feet padding against the floor, you pass through the courtyard and hallway. Imperial guards stand outside the Emperor’s quarters and you bow your head, stating your business. 

One of the guards opens the doors and you suck in a sharp breath, gathering your confidence as you step inside the Emperor’s quarters. 

It’s a familiar place. The room is large, scrolls stacked upon shelves tucked against the walls, decorative screens partitioning the entrance to where his bed was placed. You swallow nervously, eyes blinking about. You can’t seem to find the Emperor. Deciding to step forward, you’re pushing your luck, sticking your head outside the open doors at the other end of his quarters. It opens into a private courtyard, greenery pruned to perfection.

There’s a frown pulling at your lips when you can’t see him. Perhaps he had left? Just as you’re about to give up, a man clears his throat. You jolt in place, tea sloshing as you struggle to keep a hold on the tray. Whirling around, you find the Emperor standing there, his arms crossed over his chest. There’s a curse entering your mind, placing the tea tray down on a table nearby before your knees are bending, meeting the floor as you bow in a seated position.

“Please forgive me, your majesty” you breathe out, eyes squeezing shut. 

You would rather not feel the wrath of the Emperor.

“I did not ask for tea,” he says bluntly.

“The- the eunuch insisted,” you supply lamely.

The Emperor only sighs and your eyes are peeking open, head tilting slightly as you try to get a glimpse of his expression. 

“You may stand,” he murmurs, waving his hand. You do as he says, stumbling to your feet, teeth gritting together when the cloth of your robes rubs against the still fresh burn on your forearm.

He takes a seat on a cushioned mat and you’re standing awkwardly, trying to taper down your fidgeting as the pain flares up again.

“Is something the matter?” the Emperor asks when he sees your inability to stand still. 

You shake your head, biting the inside of your cheek. The Emperor only stares at you, unimpressed. His gaze drags over you and your cheeks are flushing in embarrassment. 

“Sit,” he says suddenly, pointing to the space across from him.

“I-” you begin to refuse, restless to get out of this stifling place and tend to the burn that was currently beginning to sting.

“Sit, or will you refuse an Imperial command?”

To refuse an Imperial command is to forfeit one’s life. It’s why you’re sitting down in a flurry and looking everywhere at everything except him. 

“Arm,” he murmurs, holding his hand out.

You extend your arm towards his hand without question. He hums when he brushes the sleeves away, moving your arm closer to his eyes so he can examine the burn. The Emperor’s lithe fingers prod at the edges of your reddened skin, and a whimper slips out of you, the tender skin sensitive.

He pulls away from you and your eyes are darting towards the doors, wondering whether it would be worth it to make a break for it. The Emperor returns soon after, a small pot in his hand, containing some sort of salve.

“Your majesty, it is beneath you to tend to such a matter,” you remind him, feeling his cool fingers wrap around your arm again.

“Perhaps so, but I happen to take interest in the ailments of the body,” he replies, spreading the salve against your skin.

So the rumors were true then. Many spoke of the Emperor’s affinity for the study of medicine. You had assumed he would’ve taken more interest in other pursuits such as hunting, but it appeared the Emperor valued intellect above all else. 

As the salve soothes your skin, you find your gaze slipping over him. Pale skin, intelligent eyes framed by dark eyelashes, a strong nose and long hair tied back neatly, there was no doubt that the Emperor was a handsome man. 

His eyes flick up to meet yours, his own gaze dipping over you once again. You feel as though you’re being scrutinized, so you’re sitting up straighter, trying to not present yourself as a mess.

“He sent you here to entice me,” the Emperor explains, beginning to wrap your wound using a thin, silken cloth.

“Oh. Is- is it working?” you ask tentatively.

“If you consider making a fool of yourself enticing, then maybe so,” he says, the side of his mouth curling up as amusement flashes through his eyes.

There’s a sharp scoff leaving you, arm tugging free from his grasp. The bandages are tight around your arm and you send him a frown, placing your hands in your lap.

“You take liberties that others do not,” he sighs, crossing his arms over his chest.

“I apologize, your majesty,” you whisper, head hanging low. He was right, you were taking liberties. 

“Zayne,” he says, opening a scroll.

“Your- your majesty?” you reply, confusion flitting across your face.

“Zayne,” he repeats, not bothering to even spare you a glance “you may address me by my name.”

You hold your tongue in return, eyes narrowing as you stare at the Emperor. It must be a trick of some sort, you think, a ploy to make you slip up, and just like the traitors of the Empire, your head would be severed from your neck. 

“You would distrust my own command?” he asks, sensing your hesitation. “I never said such a thing!” you protest, exasperation spreading across your face.

Sitting in place, you pout to yourself, tracing random shapes onto the cushioned mat. Zayne ignores your presence and it has you fidgeting even more, a huff of air leaving you. 

The Emperor only continues to read the scroll in his hands. Pouring out some tea, you decide to indulge yourself. Your face contorts when you taste the now lukewarm liquid. It’s hardly enjoyable. Letting out another deep sigh, your body sags. There’s nothing for you to do here, the Emperor won’t carry a conversation and you only find that you’re making a fool of yourself even more.

“Shall I leave?” you ask him, feeling hopeful that you might be able to escape.

Zayne shakes his head. 

“Stay a little while. It would do good for my advisors to think they have succeeded.”

“Succeeded?” you echo, brows furrowing.

“They expect an heir,” he sighs, setting down the scroll to give you his full attention, “surely you are aware of my… aversion to the entire matter.”

“I cannot say I understand,” you murmur, “you need an heir, and an illegitimate heir is an heir nonetheless.”

“The duty will be fulfilled when I am ready,” he says firmly.

Your head tilts at that, eyes narrowing. When he was ready? There would be no reason for the Emperor to not be ready.

“Other noblemen take pleasure in using women’s bodies,” you mutter, peering over at him, “it is strange that you have not yet touched any one of us.”

“You wish for me to use you?” Zayne asks, raising his brows. 

“N- no! I just meant, it is odd that an Emperor whose rule has granted him anything he may possibly desire chooses not to engage in anything,” the words come out of you in a rush, your cheeks flushing. 

“And have you engaged in anything?” he shoots back, his eyes sharp.

Admitting your own virginity wasn’t on your plan of things to do today. Your cheeks are hot with embarrassment, eyes averted to the side. Your silence is answer enough, and Zayne sighs, his fingers rubbing at his temples.

“I did not ask for concubines,” he says quietly, “and so, I do not expect you to serve me in such a fashion.”

“You may leave,” he says after a few moments, standing up with you.

Your head tilts, teeth worrying into your lower lip as he stares down at you.

“It appears you care for me,” he murmurs, his hand lifting to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

Your heart flutters at the unexpected action, eyes widening when he touches you.

“Only for the dynasty,” you breathe out.

Zayne lets out a low laugh at that. He gives you a faint smile and your heart stutters in your chest. You don’t think you’ve ever seen a man look so ethereal, but such is the favor of the gods.

It’s probably why you’re leaning forward, hands reaching to fix the crumpled collar of his silk robes. He stiffens under your touch and you pretend as though you don’t notice. Your fingers graze his skin and his hand curls around your wrist, stopping your movements.

“I shall expect you here in a week’s time,” he says.

“A week’s time,” you nod, feeling his fingers touch the cloth wrapped around your burn.

The Emperor lowers his head, his fingers gripping your chin gently so he can stare into your eyes more intently. He seems lost in thought as he swipes his thumb over your chin, his head nearing until you can feel the warmth of his breath on your skin. 

It’s almost too much for your racing heart. Your already half-lidded eyes are slipping shut, lips parting as you lean in closer, waiting for him to kiss you. But it never comes and your eyes flutter open to see Zayne staring down at you with a hint of mirth in his eyes. He was making a fool of you yet again. 

To preserve whatever dignity you have left, you’re pulling away, freeing yourself from his suffocating grasp. Bowing in deference, you don’t look back to see his expression, pushing past the doors as you leave his quarters.

Almost immediately, you’re met with the eunuch from earlier.

“Well?” he asks, his cheeks puffed with exertion as he tries to keep up with the pace you’ve set in an attempt to escape questioning.

“Nothing happened,” you reply curtly, looking back to see the short man totter after you.

“Nothing?” he repeats, voice laced with irritation, “not even-“ his voice lowers, mindful of the other staff working in the palace, “he did not even touch you?” 

You shake your head. He doesn’t need to know that the Emperor had indeed touched you; tended to your burn even, that you were hoping the Emperor would hold you close and kiss you, and he most certainly didn’t need to know about your little displays of insolence. 

The eunuch soon loses interest in you, grumbling curses under his breath as you retire to your own chambers shared with the other girls. It’s no secret that many of them have become bored with the Emperor’s apathetic outlook, some turning their charms to try and garner the affections of noblemen at court.

-

It’s raining the day you’re meant to meet the Emperor. 

You step inside his chambers when the guards permit you, your hands clasped in front of you.

“Your majesty” you bend at the waist, bowing.

Zayne hums in response, striding closer to you. His fingers lift your arm, undoing the gauze to uncover your injury. The salve he had applied to your skin had soothed the burn, and it had begun to heal nicely. 

“I told you to address me by my name,” he reminds you, his brows furrowed in concentration as he examines your skin, “must I remind you again, or will phrasing it as an Imperial command suffice?”

Your mouth opens automatically to retort sharply. He looks at you, brows raised. Spending more time in his presence has only vexed you, irritation making you almost forget who you were with. Mouth clamping shut, you send him a tight-lipped smile. 

“Forgive me,” you say begrudgingly, “Zayne.”

“Better,” he murmurs.

You don’t know whether he’s referring to your obedience or the state of your wound. 

“It will scar,” Zayne continues, turning your arm so that he can see your skin in better light.

“Badly?” you ask, a frown tugging at your lips.

“More salve will lessen the effect,” he says, finally letting go of your arm.

You release a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. The Emperor stares at you, his gaze unwavering. It has you wishing that you hadn’t listened to his request at all. The palace physician would have more than likely provided you with the necessary treatment, and yet here you were, being tended to by the Emperor of all people.

“Do you wish for me to repay you?” the words are out of your mouth before you can stop yourself.

“Did we not already have this conversation?” he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“I had assumed-”

“Do not assume anything.”

Zayne’s voice has hardened, the slight softness in his eyes no longer present. You’ve overstepped. He pulls away from you, turning his back to you as he walks towards the open doors of his quarters. Rain wets the inside, the mats on the floor darkening but the Emperor doesn’t seem to care.

Feeling like a scolded child, you trail after him.

“Forgive me,” you whisper, keeping your gaze trained on the floor.

It seems to be all that you’re doing now. Apology after apology after apology. It’s a miracle you haven’t yet been executed for your impertinence. 

He turns to face you, his hand lifting. For a moment you think he’s about to slap you, a grimace settling on your face as you await the stinging punishment. Instead, all you feel is his hand on your head, petting you like you were some sort of unruly cat.

Zayne’s fingers begin to slip and you can feel the soft tips of his fingers graze the side of your face, traveling lower as he traces your jawline. You hold still, eyes wide with anticipation. He doesn’t stop, his fingers dragging down the length of your neck, parting your robes until you feel his fingers swipe across your collarbone. 

“You are stubborn,” he says softly, “steadfast and oddly endearing. Perhaps I should keep you by my side.”

You stare up at him, jaw slackening, baffled. 

“I thought you would appreciate it,” he murmurs, the sharpness in his eyes returning, “just moments ago you were offering yourself to me.”

It’s a struggle to bite back the whimper that so eagerly wants to escape when his fingers drag lower, skimming across the soft skin of the tops of your breasts. His other hand plays with the knot tied at the side, nimble fingers untying the only thing keeping your robes together. The soft fabric slips from your shoulders and you find yourself in front of the Emperor, breasts bared.

He lets out a low hum, both of his hands coming to cup your breasts. Your teeth have been biting into your lip so hard that you can taste the tang of blood on your tongue. Zayne swipes his thumbs over your nipples and you find yourself unable to rip free from his wandering touch. 

“Should you not tell me to stop?” the Emperor asks, his face nearing yours.

There’s no will left in you to answer, a sharp gasp escaping you when he pinches your nipples to punctuate his question. The sensation only adds to the wetness pooling between your thighs.

“Please,” you whimper, the desperation clear in your eyes, “please, Zayne.”

“I may have the favor of the gods, but I cannot foresee your desires,” he whispers, the tip of his nose brushing yours, “tell me. What is it you want?”

“Kiss,” you manage out, “kiss me, please.”

The Emperor’s hands haven’t stopped their exploration, squeezing and groping at your breasts. Zayne lowers his head, forehead pressing against yours as you mewl and whimper under the onslaught of his caressing touches. The ache between your thighs has become unbearable with the way he plays with your nipples. He tugs and pinches, thumbs swiping over your areolas to grant you reprieve before rolling your nipples between his fingers again. 

“Wantonness has made you far more polite,” he whispers, lips brushing against yours.

It’s not a kiss, and you’re squirming in frustration with the way the Emperor is stringing you along, driving you to the edge of pleasure and yet refusing to grant you what you desire the most. 

“I- I can be even more polite,” you mumble pathetically, hands curling into his robes.

You chase after his lips, brows furrowing when he draws up to his full height, smiling down at you. Lips jutting out into a pout, you stand on the tips of your toes, trying to tug him back down so you can kiss him. It’s a futile endeavor, the Emperor only manages to evade all of your attempts to draw him into a kiss. 

“I shall look forward to it,” Zayne murmurs, his lips pressing against your forehead gently.

There’s no way to discern what exactly is going through the Emperor’s mind. He no longer continues with his lustful touches, pulling away with a final caress of your breasts as he pulls your loosened robes over your shoulders again. You can only watch with dazed eyes, frozen in place as he helps redo the knot holding your robes together, covering you up properly so that unnecessary slivers of skin aren’t showing anymore. 

“Do you do this with the others?” you ask, eyes finding his.

“Does the thought make you jealous?”

You frown at his retort, sending him a glare, “the Emperor may do as he wishes,” you grumble.

It’s hard to hide the jealousy that underlies your words. You want to be the only person he touches, to be the object of his affections. It’s a selfish desire to want the Emperor to need you only, but you can’t help yourself, envy flaring up inside of you at the thought of him touching another woman the way he touches you. 

“You are the first to elicit such a reaction from me,” Zayne says, his fingers tilting your head so he can stare into your eyes more directly.

Letting out an irritated huff, you feel irked by his subtle way of trying to please you. He doesn’t reply to your display of irritation, nudging his forehead against yours as though trying to convey his affection. 

“Go now,” he whispers, petting your hair again before he’s moving away, turning his back to you as he returns to peer out at the rain that falls outside.

You have half the mind to call him out on his behavior, but the reminder of your position is the stifling reality in which you live in. Despite his gaze elsewhere, you bow to him, turning on your heel to leave.

Thankfully, there are no lurking eunuchs to question your brief stay in the Emperor’s quarters. The palace staff don’t pay you any mind as you return to your chambers, and you explain to the other girls that you feel sick. 

The whimpers that spill from your mouth are muffled by the pillow that you’ve pressed your face into, the fingers of one hand rubbing at your clit and the other hand pinching at your nipples as you try to mimic the way the Emperor had touched you. With the image of Zayne’s face ingrained into your mind, it doesn’t take long, a soft moan escaping into the quiet of your chambers as you come apart on your fingers. 

-

You’re spying on the Emperor. 

The past year had been plenty of time to explore the palace and figure out the little passageways that weren’t well known. Perhaps you were just as bad as his advisors that were intent on prying into Zayne’s private life, but you just couldn’t help yourself. 

It’s why you’re here now, hovering outside his quarters, pretending to take great interest in the portraits that line the halls. Every now and then, your eyes flick over to where the guards stand, trying to discern whether anyone was entering or leaving his chambers. 

You almost feel pathetic for acting in such a way, but he was the only thing you could think about. Visiting the gardens had grown dull, despite the leaves turning into pretty shades of orange and red in the autumn air, thoughts of the Emperor taking root in the crevices of your mind instead. 

“My grandfather,” a deep voice breaks through your thoughts. You don’t have to look to know who it is.

“Handsome,” you mutter, taking a step closer to examine the portrait genuinely this time.

“My guards have complained about a woman hiding in the hallways,” Zayne says, his hand falling onto your shoulder. “I did not realize it was an offense to admire fine art,” you shoot back.

“There are far finer things in this palace,” he murmurs, stepping forward until you’ve been backed up against the wall.

It’s becoming more and more apparent to you that the Emperor must be suffering some sort of illness to the mind. You struggle to come up with a reason as to why his arm curls around your waist, whilst he presses himself closer. 

You try and push at his firm chest, but he doesn’t budge.

“People will see,” you whisper heatedly, eyes darting to the sides despite Zayne being so close that you can hardly see anything but him.

“So let them.”

Zayne reaches out, his hand cupping your cheek. You stiffen under the sudden touch, eyes widening when his thumb brushes over your skin.

“Why are you doing this?” you whisper, frowning.

“Is my mind not allowed to change?” he asks in return, head lowering until his forehead is pressed against yours.

“I am far more concerned that you have lost your mind.”

The Emperor lets out a deep chuckle and you think the air around you both has somehow grown thicker with how lightheaded you’re feeling.

“I assure you, I am still of sound mind.”

His nose brushes against yours, and you rise to meet the challenge, nose nudging against his gently. The heat of his body is intoxicating, his arm tightening around your waist as he exhales. Your eyes flutter shut, anticipating the feeling of his lips against yours.

It’s not to be, not when an Imperial guard insists on interrupting your moment with the Emperor.

“Is this woman bothering you?” the guard asks, his gaze dragging over you with obvious disregard. 

The utter nerve. Eye twitching, you ready yourself to snap back but Zayne’s squeeze to your waist has you staying silent.

“She was feeling ill,” Zayne lies steadily. 

The Emperor’s mask of cool indifference slips over him easily, his lips pulled thin as he speaks to the guard. 

“I shall escort her to the physician,” the guard offers, his hand reaching for you.

Zayne pulls you out of reach before the guard can touch you, tucking you against his side.

“No need,” Zayne says, “I shall take her myself.”

You can almost hear the nervous gulp that the guard takes, his face paling at the Emperor’s stony disposition. Unfortunately, you don’t get long to revel in the satisfaction that spreads through your body when Zayne reprimands the guard. Zayne tugs you along, his hand wrapped around your wrist. It appears the Emperor knows of the passages as well, and a few twists and turns later you find yourself back in the Emperor’s quarters, having bypassed the Imperial guards.

“Did you see his face?” you snicker, looking over at Zayne.

Your smile fades when he doesn’t reply, the grip on your wrist almost painful without how firmly his hand is still holding onto you.

“Zayne? Are you-”

You nearly trip over your own feet when he suddenly pulls you closer. Zayne’s lips are slotting over yours, his large hands cupping your cheeks as he kisses you. There’s a small noise of surprise coming from you, eyes widening before they flutter shut, your body lulled into submission with the feverish kisses Zayne gives you.

He groans into your mouth and you cling to his robes, rising up on the tips of your toes to meet his kisses better. The Emperor might’ve been starved with the way he’s kissing you, his lips firm and insistent against yours whilst he holds you in place. 

Zayne pulls away after a while, and you’re completely and utterly dazed, chest heaving as soft pants fill the space between you both.

“Will you have me?” he whispers, his fingers tracing the curve of your cheek.

No man has ever spoken such words to you. Your breath catches in your throat, heart clenching uncomfortably in your chest. As the Emperor, he shouldn’t say such a thing. 

“It is beneath you to ask,” you murmur, averting your gaze.

“And yet, I am asking,” Zayne replies, his hands maneuvering your head until you have no choice but to look into his eyes.

Letting out an irritated huff, as though he had somehow inconvenienced you, you lean forward and press a chaste kiss against his lips. You can’t bring yourself to say the words out loud, feeling uncharacteristically shy as you shift on the spot.

“I see.”

Zayne’s surging towards you again, lips crashing onto yours. You whimper, hands scrabbling at his shoulders as you press yourself closer. His arms are wrapping around your waist, keeping you flush against him as he ravages your mouth. His tongue is teasing your lower lip, coaxing it open. You have no choice but to obey, letting out a muffled moan when his tongue slides deeper into your mouth, his hand pulling at the pin holding your hair together. 

You squeak when he picks you up, his lips trailing burning kisses down your neck as he nudges the partition blocking his way to his bed. Zayne undoes the knot holding your robes together before long, your thighs straddling his hips as you sit perched on his lap once he sits down on his bed.

“Have you really never given yourself to anyone?” Zayne asks quietly, his fingers tracing across the soft skin of your shoulders.

You nod, body leaning forward to chase after his touch as his fingers find their way back down to your nipples, rolling the pebbled buds between the pads of his fingers.

“H- have you?” you ask, biting your lip as he presses heated kisses against your collarbone.

He shakes his head, lips drifting lower and lower, until your body twitches as his lips enclose around your nipple. A whimper leaves you, and Zayne grows bolder with his movements, sucking harshly as his tongue swirls around your nipple, flicking the little bud in his mouth.

Your hands have drifted into his hair, pulling free the band that holds his long locks together. His dark hair runs past his shoulders, the strands soft under your touch as you pull at his hair, moaning as he continues his exploration across your chest.

Zayne looks up at you with half-lidded eyes, spit-slick lips dragging across your chest to pepper kisses against your other breast, his mouth enveloping your nipple yet again. He lets out a low groan and you whine, pulling at his robes desperately to pull them off.

“Oh,” you breathe out when he lets you, biting your lip at the sight of his bare chest and abdomen. Your fingers spread across his chest eagerly, mapping out the expanse of his skin. There’s a sly smile spreading across your face when you see his cheeks flush pink as your fingers drag lower, past his navel.

“Enjoying yourself?” he asks hoarsely, his head tipping back.

“Should I not?” you whisper, fingers delving lower until you can feel his hardness through his robes.

You rub your hand against the bulge experimentally, eyes lighting up when he lets out a grunt. Face tucking into the crook of his neck, your breasts squished against his chest, you place hungry kisses against his neck, palming at his bulge.

The Emperor tugs at your hair, pulling your head back. You stare up at him, meeting him in the middle when he leans forward, sharing a sloppy kiss. His hands squeeze at your waist and you shift in his lap, letting him undress you completely.

Nervousness flits across your face as he stares at your bare body, hands leaving him to cover yourself up. He grabs your hands before you can, placing a soft kiss to your jaw.

“You are beautiful,” he whispers, lips drifting to kiss the shell of your ear.

A shy smile pulls at your lips and he squeezes your waist again. Your brows furrow when he jostles you, making you straddle his thigh instead.

“I want to watch,” Zayne says, his fingers dimpling into the fat of your thighs.

“Watch?” you echo, head tilting in question.

“I want to watch you come undone,” he clarifies, gripping your hips as he guides you into grinding against his thigh.

A strangled noise leaves you and he pats your hip, satisfied. You’re so aroused that your slick has begun to wet his silken robes, the fabric darkening as you roll your hips, dragging your pussy against his thigh.

“I- I want to watch you too,” you gasp out.

Zayne obliges and you watch as he pulls his cock free. The sight is almost enough to have you coming on his covered thigh. His fingers wrap around his cock and you whine, hips rolling faster. “Is it to your satisfaction?” he murmurs.

You nod rapidly. It is. You’ve never seen one before, but you just know Zayne’s is pretty compared to the others. His cock is thick, flushed prettily at the tip to match the blush on his cheeks and you lick your lips, wondering what it might feel like in your mouth. 

“Another time,” Zayne says, smiling when he sees the expression on your face.

It’s entrancing to watch the way his hand drags up and down his cock, his long fingers wrapped around himself. Globs of pre-cum bead at the tip, wetting his hands and his cock, creating a sinful sound. Unable to help yourself, you tilt your head, tongue lolling out as you let your own spit drip down onto his cock. You hum in delight when his thighs twitch, your eyes peering into his as you drag your cunt against his thigh, clit catching on the fabric of his robes just right. 

“I did not know my concubine was so depraved,” he murmurs, his hand kneading the flesh at your hip roughly.

You give him a dopey smile, eyes slipping back down to watch his hand move around his cock whilst you rock your hips. Head falling against his shoulder, your lips drag across his chest, landing soft kisses against his skin before nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck, nipping his skin lightly.

Airy sounds fill the air, his quiet moans and your soft whimpers emanating in his quarters. 

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you press yourself closer, guiding his head into another kiss. It’s messy, his tongue licking into your mouth with no hesitation. Zayne’s pulling apart suddenly, his previous desire of watching you come undone on your thigh forgotten as he manhandles your body, making you lay down against his bed.

The Emperor kisses you over and over, and your head is swirling, trying to keep up whilst his fingers have found their way down to your pussy, rubbing your wetness across the sensitive flesh before he finds your clit. All it takes is one firm press of his thumb, your thighs twitching violently as you grasp at the sheets, moaning loudly as you come. He smiles against your lips, granting you one last kiss before he directs his attention elsewhere, his face disappearing between your thighs.

“Z-Zayne!” you squeal, pushing at his head, trying to get him to stop as the overstimulation becomes too much.

The Emperor ignores you in favor of thumbing apart your folds, his eyes trained on your clit.

“Pretty” he whispers, the pads of his fingers stroking over your clit gently, “and so, so swollen.”

It has your eyes rolling to the back of your head, and he kisses the inside of your thighs, edging closer to your pussy, letting out a low breath, the air hitting your exposed pussy.

He groans when you tug at his hair, and you writhe, trying to somehow free yourself from the onslaught of his tongue as he laves over your pussy, pressing sloppy kisses against your skin, his lips latching onto your swollen clit. Zayne’s tongue flicks against the sensitive bud, teasing you.

Something between a moan and a scream climbs its way out your throat, the sound ringing in through his chambers as you come again, thighs firmly squeezing his head. Your eyes widen when you realize the guards are still outside the doors, panic flaring through your body as you scramble to sit up.

Zayne’s hand slides over your mouth before you can get anything out, the stern look in his eyes making you go still. The rapping of the guard’s knuckles against the door has you rigid, eyes widening in alarm as he begins to move his tongue yet again. 

You glare at Zayne, tugging at his hair roughly to make it hurt as you attempt to get his mouth off of you. Zayne only gives you a hazy look, looking utterly gone as he presses his face deeper into your cunt. It’s a struggle to keep the noises in, your body shaking as his nose rubs into your clit and his tongue fucks in and out of your aching hole. 

“Your majesty?” An urgent voice calls out from behind the door, and you can hear the faint scuffling noises of the guards’ boots. 

“Someone get this door open!” another voice hisses, the sliding doors rattling soon after.

The Emperor grunts into your cunt, raising up finally. The sight of him is nearly enough to make you come for a third time. Zayne is utterly disheveled, his cheeks pink and the lower half of his face glistening with your slick. 

You watch as he runs his hand through his hair, biting your lip as you let your gaze wander, catching on his cock once again. He looks painfully hard, cum smeared across his skin and drool is pooling in your mouth. Getting onto your knees, you crawl forward eager to envelop it in your mouth.

The tip makes its way into your mouth for a brief moment and you can barely suck when Zayne is yanking you off of his cock, his hand curled into your hair. 

“Everything is fine,” the Emperor snaps, narrowing his eyes when you pout.

“We heard-”

“I said,” Zayne’s voice grows louder, “everything is fine.”

You think he might take out his wrath on you with the way he grips your cheeks roughly, planting another kiss to your lips. He’s manhandling you yet again, pushing at your shoulders to make you lie down as he settles his hips between your thighs.

Zayne’s cum smears against your skin and you whimper when the fat tip of his cock nudges against your clit. He lands a gentler kiss to your cheek, his hand cupping your cheek as you squirm under him, whimpering as he grinds his cock against your cunt.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, his face pressing into the crook of your neck as he lets his cock slide up and down against your folds, “my good girl.”

“Yours,” you agree, cheek squishing against the pillow, “all yours.”

“I want to see you like this all the time,” Zayne confesses, his hand grasping his cock to press it firmly against your cunt, coating it with your arousal, “all flustered and needy… perhaps I am losing my sanity.”

You need him inside of you. The emptiness in your pussy has made you all too aware, hips bucking with every drag of his heavy cock.

“More,” you whisper, voice slurring, “Zayne, I want more.”

Zayne draws back slightly and you watch as he squeezes his cock, pre-cum dripping steadily onto your thigh. He reaches for your hand, fingers lacing with yours.

“Ready?” he murmurs.

You nod, swallowing down your nervousness. He presses his cock into your hole and the stretch is uncomfortable, a pained whimper leaving you as Zayne guides his cock into you. 

“A little more,” he coaxes, kissing your forehead to try and distract you from the initial stretch.

He finally pushes his entire cock in, and you feel as though the air has been punched out of your lungs. Zayne fills you up so perfectly, his cock snug inside your cunt, the emptiness from earlier disappearing almost immediately.

It appears you have affected him just as much, his eyes squeezed shut as he pants into the crook of your neck, trying to get used to the wet heat of your cunt. 

“Perfect,” he mutters mindlessly, and you can feel the twitch of his cock from inside of you, “so- so perfect and warm and tight.”

A hazy smile drifts across your face, legs locking tighter around his hips as your pussy clenches around him.

Zayne lets out a ragged gasp, and you know he can feel it. His eyes bore into yours, brows pulled together in annoyance at your little tease.

“Little minx,” he hisses.

It’s you that gasping this time when he draws his hips back, nails clawing at his back as he thrusts into you. His cock is stretching you out, over and over, as he tries to press it in deeper, trying to carve a path from your pussy to your heart.

“Too- too much!” you wail, arms wrapping around his neck to cling onto him.

“Do you want the guards to hear?” Zayne murmurs against your ear, his hips slowing slightly.

Through the haze of it all, your head turns, eyes finding his. The truth is, you wouldn’t exactly be opposed to the idea. Zayne can see the flash of interest in your eyes and he lets out a hoarse laugh, shaking his head.

“I should have taken you sooner,” he mutters, his fingers squeezing at your hips, “kept you close to me from the beginning.”

You preen at the thought, pressing sloppy kisses against his jaw, feeling his cock drag in and out of you.

“Next time, I shall take you on my throne.”

Your movements pause, eyes widening as he whispers those words, his lips brushing across yours.

“Not like that-” you begin to say, cheeks flushing deeper as you imagine him taking you on his throne, his hips rutting into yours like they were now.

“Why not?” he asks, “Shall I command it? Have-” Zayne lets out a shuddering breath “have my entire court watch as my pretty, little concubine loses her mind, drunk on my cock as I claim her atop my throne?”

You moan unabashedly, cunt clenching around him tightly. Zayne grunts, his hips stuttering when at the feeling of your walls tightening before he’s gripping your thigh, his chest flush against yours as he picks up the pace. It’s no secret that the guards must have heard what was happening inside, your loud moans most likely drifting through the wood of the doors. Both you and the Emperor don’t seem to care, lost in the blur of lust that swirls between you both.

“Deeper,” you mumble, pouting up at him, “need- need you closer, Zayne.”

“You are going to be the death of me,” Zayne mutters, dropping his weight on top of you.

You mewl in delight, the feeling of his body against yours deliciously warm. He hikes your thighs up a little higher, hips pressing deeper until you gasp. You can feel his balls pressed snugly against your ass, his cock as deep inside of you as it could go.

“Take it,” he whispers, his hand beginning to stroke your hair as he moves his hips. Short, sharp thrusts that serve to bury his cock into your cunt the way you want, “take it, my love.”

My love. Skin against skin. His hand stroking your hair gently. Girthy cock filling you up perfectly.

The sensations mixed with his affection are too much, pulling at your heart uncomfortably until you let out a sniffle, staring up at him with glassy eyes.

Concern passes through his eyes when he hears you sniffle, his hand cupping your cheek as his thumb swipes away a stray tear that beads at the corner of your eye.

“Am I hurting you?” Zayne asks softly.

You shake your head, lips trembling even more at his display of concern. 

“I just like you a lot is all,” you whisper, sniffling quietly.

“I like you too,” Zayne replies in kind, his lips pressing soft kisses against your cheek, “and I take care of what’s mine.”

He leans down, lips pressing against yours in a tender kiss. Your tears wet his cheeks as he keeps you there, kissing you gently whilst his hips roll into you.

“Let go for me, my love” he murmurs, and you’re clenching around him again, feeling his hand sneak its way between your bodies as his thumb rubs against your clit.

You whimper, head pressing back as you arch your back, the sensation of his cock and his fingers driving you further and further to the edge until he latches his mouth onto your breast, catching your nipple between his teeth. He bites down and a broken moan fills the air, body shuddering as you come on his cock.

“Oh fuck,” Zayne grits out when he feels the harsh clench of your cunt around his cock.

You can feel him bury his face into your chest and you reach up weakly, running your fingers through his hair. It’s enough to have him letting out a guttural noise against your chest, his fat cock twitching as his thick cum floods your pussy.

The Emperor lays on top of you, both of your bodies loosened completely. You whimper when he pulls out of you, his cum beginning to leak out from your cunt. Zayne stares at the sight for a moment, entranced, before pulling you closer, letting you press your face into his chest as he kisses your forehead. 

“Everyone will know by now,” you whisper.

“They will,” he agrees, his fingers prying your face away from where it hides.

Zayne peers down into your eyes, a faint smile playing across his lips as he swipes his thumbs against your skin.

“Stay here with me,” he says quietly, “by my side.”

You laugh softly at his proposition.

“I am your concubine,” you murmur, reaching up to curl your hand around his wrist, “nothing more.”

“You will be more,” Zayne insists, his voice hardening,  “I will have you.”

“Your advisors would not allow it!” you protest, eyes turning glassy again.

“Desperation will make them vulnerable to acceptance,” he retorts, his body pressing closer as though to keep you tethered to him, hands tightening around your cheeks.

“I am the Emperor,” he continues, forehead pressing against yours as his eyes bore into yours, “you said it yourself. I may do as I wish, and what I wish for is for you to be by my side.”

You swallow harshly, blinking up at him when you hear the sternness of his voice. He doesn’t give you a chance to reply, kissing you desperately.

“Stay with me, my love” he whispers again, stealing kiss after kiss from you.

“Okay,” you relent, sinking into his embrace and returning his kisses just as desperately, “okay.”

The Emperor holds you close to his chest, his arms wrapped around you tightly. The heat of his body has your eyes drooping shut, his lips brushing over your forehead as he whispers sweet promises of his love.

Outside, far away from the warmth of love’s embrace, the first fall of snow has begun to drift from the sky.

[professorcalculusstanaccount]

"But don't let its beauty fool you. This plant can be processed into a powerful neurotoxin which can cause near permanent madness unless treated!"

Professor Calculus, upon developing a state-of-the-art automated hydroponics and pesticides delivery system, has been invited to judge a prestigious international flower show at the largest botanical garden in Belgium.

Botany experts and amateurs from around the world attend - Professor Zalamea is there to showcase his bizarre genetically modified bioluminescent blue oranges, Nash is displaying some of his explorations into living sculpture, and Castafiore is geared up to perform in the evening. Most controversially of all, Professor Fang Hsi Ying, a world leading expert on mental health, is showcasing his research on the Rajaijah plant, a plant historically used to produce madness poison.

It's this exhibit that causes a stir at the event. Security is on high alert. After the poison was used a few years ago in several high profile drug smuggling cases that were embroiled in politics, the plant is anticipated to be a subject of fear and Orientalism. Protestors calling for its destruction flock the event, and there are rumours of a plot to steal the rare plant. The organisers hope that the controversy will generate ticket sales and revenue.

Tintin and Chang are there to report on the goings on, having just confessed their feelings for each other. They're not sure what they are just yet - but even without a madness poison, Tintin's head is in a spin!

I had the idea to bring back Rajaijah juice for some time and was intially going to set it at a garden party, but I received this message from anon some time ago:

And I just loved the Drama of a botanical garden a whole lot more!

Because of the time it takes for me to make stuff and the planning that goes into my posts I do take a very long time to respond to messages, and sometimes multiple people send similar messages anticipating stuff I already have planned, so if I come across as standoffish I apologise, I just have a lot on my plate (by my own design tbh)!

I love every message I receive, I started this blog intending to respond to every message but that's becoming unrealistic ;_; I keep your messages to read back whenever I need motivation, so from the bottom of my heart, thank you if you've sent me an ask!

[eufezco]

I saw your Bridgerton requests were open !

Can I do one for Benedict they’re courting but suddenly he starts spending more time with Tilly so reader starts to distance herself from him and starts to spend more time with Colin and Benedict gets jealous and pulls her away from Colin maybe they’re dancing or something. And pulls her to another room and apologizes and maybe smut occurs or something as a part of his apology ?

If not that’s ok I thought I’d ask!

YOU BELONG WITH ME

—Are you leaving with Colin? —Benedict asked you in disbelief.

You had been talking with Anthony and Kate about your intentions to join Colin on his next trip and it seemed that the older Bridgerton brother had wasted no time in letting Benedict know.

Now you were in a room of the Queen's palace, alone with Benedict and the piano in the center of it. He had practically begged you to give him a few minutes of your time, had interrupted your dance with Colin, and led you by the hand into that room. You and Benedict were the match of the season so the Queen had managed to distract the other guests while you sneaked out of the ball.

—How is it that you care?

—He is my brother.

You raised your eyebrows, hoping for some further explanation.

—You cannot leave with him —Benedict stated.

You shook your head, keeping eye contact with him. His blue eyes looked back at you and you just wished he could see the anger growing on your face.

—Where have you been these past days, Benedict?

He immediately knew what you were talking about.

It was true that he had not been visiting you during calling hours, he had not asked you out for walks, he had not picked flowers from the garden of Aubrey Hall to bring them to you while he had tea with your mama. He hadn't even bothered to put his name on your card tonight to secure a dance with you.

—I have been visiting a friend —He answered you.

—Since when are you friends with Tilley Arnold?

Benedict huffed a laugh. —Why is it that you care so much?

—Because you were courting me! —If it hadn't been for the loud music in the ballroom you would have sworn that the rest of the guests would have heard you. —A couple of days with Tilley Arnold have been enough for you to forget about me?

—I do not know, perhaps you can tell me since you are the one leaving with my brother to another country —Benedict said ironically.

You shook your head and rolled your eyes. On another occasion, you would have appreciated Benedict's lack of seriousness but right in that moment you were angry and you just wanted to get out of that room. You turned your back on Benedict to leave but on your way to the door, he grabbed your hand and made your body turn to him. Your face showed disappointment and anger and he knew he couldn't let you go like that.

—I apologize if I have ever caused you to doubt how I feel for you.

You took a deep breath through your nose. You were still angry but his words definitely made you feel better.

—My feelings for you have not changed —. He continued saying. Benedict began to walk slowly and you took a few steps backwards trying to escape from him until you bumped your back against the door. That didn't stop him from moving towards you. —And I don't think Tilley or anyone else can possibly change the way you make me feel.

Benedict's eyes moved from yours to your lips and you knew what he was about to do.

—Do not kiss me, Benedict, not now.

He slowly nodded, one of his hands pinched your chin so you would look at him. He gave you enough time so that if you really didn't want him to kiss you, you could push him away. —I am going to kiss you.

—Do not —You mumbled, but your eyes fixed on his lips betrayed the words that came out of your mouth and Benedict pressed his lips against yours. His hands went to cup both of your cheeks and you melted under his touch. How could you be angry with him if he kissed you with such sweetness?

Benedict's hands traveled down your body looking for your ass. He gave you a gentle squeeze and with his grip there, he started to roll up your dress to your hips, exposing your legs and making it easier for you to wrap them around his body.

Your hands were around his neck, helping him to hold your weight and also to deepen the kiss as much as possible. He guided you to the piano, his lips moving with yours and his eyes closed enjoying the kiss, so distracted by the feeling that when he sat you down on the instrument, the lid was up and your ass pressed down almost all the keys. You both jumped off each other, scared, but right after you bursted out laughing.

While you laughed and shook your heads, you got up and pushed Benedict off his shoulders, making him sit on the instrument stool. You rolled your dress up so the fabric wouldn't get in the way once you sat with a leg on each side of his body. Your cleavage was just a few centimeters away from his face and he didn't even try to make eye contact with you when your breasts, so enhanced by the corset, were practically in his face.

—My eyes are up here.

—I do know that—. Benedict said while his hands unbuttoned your dress and undid the laces of your corset.

Your body relaxed once it was freed from the uncomfortable undergarment and Benedict's lips were quick to attack your breasts. You took a deep breath and bit your lower lip, Benedict hummed while his lips left a wet trail of kisses across your breasts. Your hands moved down his body until they reached his crotch, he hissed when your fingers traced the line of his hard cock on his pants. You were quick to unbutton them and he helped you pull down his underwear just enough to free his cock.

His blue eyes were finally on yours, focusing on every little expression on your face. His lips were parted as you pulled your underwear to one side and lined him up against your entrance. You looked into his eyes and your lips half opened as his own which allowed you to share a moan when you gently lowered yourself.

Benedict kissed you again while his hands moved to hold your hips and help you move. One of your hands went to the back of his head and tugged his hair at the root. Benedict groaned but his dick jumped inside you.

—Tell me you're mine. Only mine, Benedict. Tell me I'm the only one.

You pressed your foreheads together while your hand kept a firm grip on his hair.

—I'm yours. Only yours —He said with a moan. His eyes closed shut, your body didn't stop moving up and down his cock, and his hands held you tighter. Benedict tried to catch your lips but you tugged harder on his hair and stopped him. You shook your head, that was not enough, you wanted to hear more. —You're my only one. No other woman shall have me the way you have me —He whined.

That was much better. —Good boy.

You allowed him to press his desperate lips against yours. You also allowed Benedict to set the pace, his hips fucking into you, thrusting from below to match your movements. You moaned in each other's mouths. The music was playing loudly in the ballroom but still, you swore that someone could hear your muffled scream when Benedict sunk balls deep inside you.

He kept fucking you as if he wanted everyone to notice what you two had been doing, alone, locked in some room in the Queen's palace. It was outrageous and Benedict loved it. He fucked you as if, when you finished and walked out of that room, he wanted everyone in the ton to know that his cum was dripping down your legs.

He kept fucking you as if he wanted everyone to notice what you two had been doing, alone, locked in a random room in the Queen's palace. It was outrageous and Benedict loved it. He fucked you as if, when you finished and walked out of that room, he wanted everyone in the ton to know that his cum was dripping down your legs. And by the wrinkles of the delicate fabric of your beautiful dress, they would know that it was going to be very difficult to see Benedict around Tilley Arnold anymore, and by the way Benedict wouldn't leave your side during the rest of the ball, they would know that you had no love interest in Colin Bridgerton.

Benedict would make sure that neither you nor anyone else in society would doubt how he felt about you and would assure that by putting a ring on your finger the next morning.

He came with a deep groan coming straight from his chest. You hid your face in the crook of his neck while your legs shook and you felt dizzy from all the panting. Benedict kissed your exposed shoulder as he gave you enough time to catch your breath. He caressed your back and ran his fingers over the marks left on your skin by the tight corset.

You fixed your position on his lap, sitting with your back straight. Benedict was still inside you, not allowing his cum to come out and go to waste.

—You must know that my wishes to join Colin on his trip to Greece have not changed.

Benedict huffed a laugh and kissed your lips. You smiled as well.

—Then I shall join you two. What would people think if you went alone with him? —By the way he asked it you knew that he meant no harm, instead, the tone in his voice was quite sarcastic.

—Since when Benedict Bridgerton cares about what other people may think?

—Since they would be talking about my wife.

[merakiui]

never-ending noctuary; love forevermore.

yandere!malleus draconia x (female) reader cw: yandere, nsfw, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, somnophilia, non-con, overblot!malleus, obsession, breeding, baby-trapping, malleus is written to have two dicks, spoilers for part two of book seven note - and sitting powerful on his throne of thorns, omniscience at his fingertips, the lord of malevolence takes a bride.

An eerie, all-consuming quiet has fallen over Sage’s Island.

It is frigid and unfriendly like winter. Harsh and oppressive like silence. Painful and abrasive like brambles. Time has come to a swift halt here, and with it the people fall into never-ending euneirophrenia. Delights so dreamy shall inhabit the minds of all who sleep, the grandest gift granted to those unwilling. Like fate itself, wound around every living soul, it is inescapable. Inevitable like death—unfair and unforgettable.

But then it is also peaceful and secure. Quaint and warm like a blanket. Fluffy and floral like spring’s first kiss. Solace is far sweeter when spent in oneiric solitude, and so it will seem for one-thousand years. Forevermore, stretched taut into the future, the dream persists.

Is that not the best blessing? To those who wish to savor a fleeting moment just a second more, is this not a wish granted generously tenfold? Rather than immortalizing the past with photographs, it shall never come to pass. There is no need for bittersweet recollections or tearful farewells. The present will persevere, lived out in endless dreams.

Surely this is the correct course. Not just for Malleus, for he is a gentle, kind creature who recognizes the mutual desire for interminable merriment, but for the entirety of the island. Although in hoping for love forevermore, he has shackled himself to selfish, Epicurean pleasures. The type which normally lasts as long as a vision spent on cloud nine.

Currently, sitting proud and alone on a cold throne, Malleus knows of no greater joy.

The party may have fallen still as the grave, bodies slumbering in stiff propinquity, but it hasn’t finished. The food may have congealed, inedible and decaying, but it is there. A testament to spirits kept aloft, if only to ensure no one ever knows the desolation of endings.

Paradise is what you make of it. Thus, should you hope for it, you can walk on the clouds in your mind and never know of Icarus’s plights. You can shed insecurities and anxieties and taste delectable metamorphosis. You can be anyone and anything. You can be strong and wealthy. You can be fearless and heroic. You can be an impossible ideal.

You can be loved.

Malleus watches your seemingly lifeless form splayed on the sofa, limbs draped over that of Ace and Deuce. It’s a tranquil sight, a marionette freed from the strings of somber, suffocating life.

Under a roof of thorns, you are reborn.

Paradise is wondrous for Malleus, albeit a touch silent. He wonders what you might say if you were to stand at his side and observe this eternal slumber party. Would it fill you with awe? With appreciation? With abject terror?

Perhaps there is no use in theorizing. He doesn’t need to know, for you will love him even in sleep.

He rises, taking each step at a time. Thorny branches and roots part to make way for him, a groom traversing the aisle in search of his bride. You lie still, secrets sealed behind pretty, plush lips, and if he was not the cause for your current state he might assume you were late.

But there is no death here. It cannot reach. It will never reach because Paradise knows not of death or suffering.

Paradise is the garden before the infestation. Paradise is the body before bacterial devastation. Paradise is love before departed lamentation.

Malleus gazes at your restful face, leaning down to trace a clawed, blot-tainted finger along your cheek. There are no tears; you are a doll incapable of such sorrow, sculpted to portray perfect neutrality. He is most pleased with this development, his chest rumbling with a triumphant chuckle. Now you shall never know an ending ever again. Now you shall remain here, safe and stagnant in his arms, far from the mirror that may allow you to return home.

Gathering your body in his arms, he lifts you from the cushions. You crumble in his grasp, head lolling and arms noodling at your sides. Sagging dead weight, but he places his ear to your chest to listen to the melodic thrum of your heart. You’re alive, frailty shielded from the horrors of the world. Here, in thorny idyll, you will live forevermore.

Historically, all rulers must have someone to call their own. Whether it be by way of arrangement or convenience, strung together for the sake of conjoined power or out of obligation, this is an irrefutable fact. Historically, all rulers must bear an heir—someone to carry on the glory of an ever-present lineage.

Malleus refuses to bring a child into the world unless they are given the blessing of the one thing he was deprived of since birth.

A mother.

You fit in his embrace, a puppet tugged into a one-sided waltz. He steps over fallen bodies as he holds you against his chest, following the routine even though you aren’t awake to reciprocate.

Historically, a married pair must share the first dance. Or that’s what he’s read in fairy tales.

There are no rings here; promises are left unspoken. He won’t entertain rejection because there is no room for it in Paradise. Every unsavory, horrid thing—pestilence and pain, death and destruction, and sadness and sin—is packed away in Pandora’s box and shelved. Malleus won’t risk opening it to release the tiny shred of hope desperately clawing for escape. It’s not worth it.

He will foster his own hope if he must, and she exists in his arms—beautifully motionless.

The steps are executed with care, up the stairs and towards a lonesome chair. He attempts a twirl, lowering you into a dip. Your arms hang limply, eyes shut in permanence. Brimming with fondness, Malleus tugs you back up to press his lips to your forehead.

“Dearest one,” he mumbles, “may you know many fruitful fantasies in the arms of Morpheus.”

He reclaims his seat and situates you to face him while perched on his lap. You slump against him, near-boneless. He smiles at you, imagining the ruckus that would certainly come about from such a daring gesture. Sebek would squawk at you to have more respect and dignity. Silver would tut and shake his head. Lilia would look on in amusement.

These are small pleasantries, little wishes he hopes to witness someday.

Historically, a married pair must consummate their bond.

Malleus’s fingertips flit across your figure, feeling fabric beneath his palms. He tries to exercise restraint and take it slow—everything in moderation, Lilia would remind him—but he can’t contain his nympholepsy. Your clothes are discarded at once, shredded to scraps in his haste. He moves clumsily, following the searchlight of intrinsic ardor. You’re softer when bare, he observes, peeling your bra from your skin. A pallid hand presses down onto your breast, the pudge of which caves beneath his fingers. He withdraws and it bounces back to its shape.

Fascinating, he marvels with wide, enchanted eyes.

Claws tweak at your hardened nipples next. He’s careful because you’re notably weaker. Even in sleep, he must mind his hedonism. Too much and you will break. Too little and he’ll be left unsatisfied. Malleus watches your expression. It was mostly neutral, but now your eyebrows are twitching in response to his touch.

In sleep, you are the most vulnerable.

He knows this because he’s peered in from afar, admiring you through a glass barrier while you slept unaware in Ramshackle. He would never do anything without invitation. Though it may not be in writing, your body is oh-so-inviting. And he indulges because he’s only known this fervor in the deepest, darkest dreams.

Curiously, in his pursuit of passion, Malleus happens upon the special space between your legs. Delicate like a flower, it’s the prettiest part of your anatomy. If he wishes to connect with you, to tie himself to you in unholy communion, he must acquaint himself with this sliver of seventh heaven. He’s never seen one up close; the sight is foreign but very welcome. He drinks it in, burning your form into his retinas. Two fingers trace your labia, stroking along flowery folds in V-shaped strokes. You twitch in his arms, an unconscious, knee-jerk reaction.

At some point, in the middle of his experimental exploration, Malleus begins to hum. It’s a soft, genial lilt. Low and soothing, the lullaby fills the silent halls of Diasomnia’s common room like poison gas.

He contemplates whether this is enough. Can you feel these sensations even when you’re so deep in your dreams? Perhaps so, for when he brushes back the hood protecting your clit to rub at it you soak his fingers. Lubricious, your wetness shimmers on his fingertips when he pulls them away to admire the very essence of you. Without hesitation, he places his fingers on the pad of his tongue to clean both. It’s a divine taste, proof of pleasure.

You cannot speak, so instead your body does so for you. A most bewitching behavior.

Malleus’s hand slithers back towards home, his fingers sliding in with surprising ease. Gummy walls cling to slender digits, embracing the intrusion as if it’s meant to be. With each pump of his fingers, your body warms. The sinful squelch of scissoring fingers joins his humming in a salacious song. Every now and then, you spasm in his arms, your lips parting ever so slightly to release a sigh or a breathy moan. It’s musical, a whimsy he’s only just discovered.

“My beautiful bride,” Malleus croons, “you will know love in my arms. Love forevermore, here in this sanctuary. Fear not, for I have done away with all that may terrify and traumatize.”

Pressure is straining beneath the belt, an itch that must be promptly dealt with. Removing his fingers, he shifts you on his lap so that he may free his cocks from confinement. Twin monstrosities curve towards his stomach; perhaps you’d have been frightened if you were awake to behold them. His hand settles on the small of your back, steadying you as he lines one of them up with your body. The tip just reaches past your navel. For a moment, Malleus ponders whether he might break you.

Careful now, he can hear Lilia’s chiding. Impatience will lead to injury.

He heeds the unspoken warning, lifting you with both hands until the head of his cock is kissing your pussy. And then, slowly, he lowers you down onto him. Your pussy stretches around him, a snug squeeze that only grows tighter with every inch swallowed. Malleus pulls you flush against his chest when he’s halfway slotted, his breathing staggered. Your body quivers, walls fluttering around him, while his other unsheathed cock presses against your navel. Pre-cum smears on your stomach.

He’s determined to cherish you, thrusting all the way to the hilt after a few determined tries. It’s a firm fit, but it’s still bliss. Hissing through his teeth, brows knitted in concentration, Malleus wraps his arms around you and fucks. Mindless, mostly, but with the intent to reach the only acceptable end here: orgasmic ecstasy. He makes up for the lack of motion on your part by moving his hips to meet yours as he rocks you up and down. Whimpers slip past your lips; he shushes you with song, humming through groans and grunts.

This is love.

Malleus thinks so when he positions your hands over his other untouched cock. The illusion doesn’t last long because your hands are quick to fall away. Instead, he grasps your hand, guides it back to his shaft, and pumps himself using your precious palm for friction.

You’re bounced up and down in a parody of consensual copulation. Malleus dwells in imagination, picturing you in a wedding gown. He considers what you might say, the vows you would undoubtedly swear, and the sweet nothings you’d exchange late into the evening. He’d twirl you across an elegant ballroom while everyone looks on with tender adoration and reverence. He’d show you the stars hanging just within reach, and when you’re swept up in riveting romance the sky is tangible and dreams are spun from sugar.

He’d place you on his bed, stripping you of your dress, hands trailing up to tug the frilly garter from your thigh, and you’d smile at him, open your arms and welcome him with mutual affection. You’d bloom for him like a moonflower, your heart beating in sync with his, as he fulfills the final promise—one so bodily imperative. An oath to disturb desolate halls with noise. To hear the pitter-patter of tiny footfalls upon stone floors—he can’t imagine anything more harmonious.

You would soften throughout the months, bright with that foretold pregnancy glow. He would press his hands to your rounded belly and feel squirming within, restless kicks and nudges. You’d discuss potential names over breakfast, and he would hover even though he knows you’re plenty capable. But he worries because you’re so fragile and fleeting. So pretty. So round with child. He wouldn’t leave you alone for a moment; you’re far too enchanting. Perhaps, in some distant future, he’ll lower to the height of your stomach and sing to the baby.

A smile would tug at your lips and you’d reach down to pat his head, running your fingers over his horns. And then— 

Malleus cracks his eyes open, his breath hot against your face. His chest heaves as he comes down from the high of domestic daydreams to find your stomach spattered with cum. Swallowing thickly, he peers between your bodies at your pussy stretched around his other cock.

Oh, he came inside.

Unexpectedly. Or perhaps not, for this was his intention. But once is not nearly enough, and he must fill you until you’re fit to burst—until it’s biologically certain you’re pregnant.

An emotion flickers on your face. Malleus mistakes it for jubilation, the type which calls forth a sunshower on your cheeks. He kisses the tears trailing down your face, ending at your lips for a chaste peck.

This is not the finale. It is simply the beginning.

[starsandsuch]

Your 4th House Sign And Your Ideal Living Environment 🏡

Aries 4H: living somewhere that is a good launchpad for you to do other things. Only being home for short amounts of time. A place where you can be physically active: home gym, treadmill etc. A place with a good kitchen that’s well equipped: gas oven, microwave, toaster oven, etc.

Taurus 4H: living in a place that is luxurious and comfortable. A home or apartment with amenities. A home that is well built and sturdy, it has good structural integrity. Living in a area surrounded by nature, trees, flowers. Somewhere that is relaxing. Living in countryside or suburbs. Living on a farm.

Gemini 4H: living somewhere with multiples: multiple bathrooms, bedrooms, mirrors etc. somewhere where you can participate in hobbies at home. Having a garden, game room, community room etc. living with a friend or sibling. A place with good WiFi. Living in walkable city, you live walking distance to supermarket etc.

Cancer 4H: living somewhere that is peaceful and serene. Living in a comfortable environment. It is a pleasant sensory experience: quiet, gets great sunlight, prefect size etc. A place with good amount of privacy and security. Living Oceanside, near water or the beach. Living traditionally in a suburb or archetypal home. Living with family.

Leo 4H: living in a place that is like a castle. High rise apartment condo, house in the hills. A home fit for royalty. Living in a gated community. Living in proximity to celebrities. Living like royalty: having house staff. Living in an environment that looks glamorous.

Virgo 4H: living somewhere modern and clean. Everything is new, updated and functioning well. Somewhere efficient, and well organized. Properity is well taken care of. Living somewhere that is easy to keep clean: hardwood floors, marble surfaces. House is pristine and untouched.

Libra 4H: living somewhere peaceful and aesthetically pleasing. A place with good architecture, a home that is artistic in someway. It’s neutral overall: not to big or too small. It is close to city but not to far either. Prefers to live with spouse.

Scorpio 4H: living somewhere that offers privacy and protection. Living somewhere secretive that’s not accessible to public. Private gated community, hidden hills etc. Having security codes, access codes, doorman, front desk person etc. Home that has powerful spiritual energy.

Sagittarius 4H: living in and environment that is flexible. Like a studio. Living abroad or internationally. Living amongst foreigners and immigrants. Living somewhere that gives you freedom: having a month to month lease, renting short term etc. Living in a diverse major city. Metropolitan environment. Living in a big house with alot of space.

Capricorn 4H: living somewhere that is well structured. Building that is antiquated or prestigious. Home looks like office, you have your office in your house. Living in a traditional home or apartment, nothing too unique or out of ordinary. Living near the state capital or government buildings.

Aquarius 4H: living somewhere that is good for environment. Eco conscious living. Living with friends/ having communal living space. Prefers not to live completely alone but having friends, roommates or house staff. Having unique quirks in home, like gadgets, speaker system, solar panels etc. living environment is out of the ordinary for some reason.

Pisces 4H: living somewhere that is like a sanctuary. Home has powerful spiritual energy: good numerology, energetically cleansed etc. home is in isolated place. Living in home where you feel disconnected from world around you. Home seems haunted, spooky or abandoned. Living near the beach or bodies of water. Living in foreign lands. Living somewhere that’s hard to find.

[urdreamydoodles]

X-Men x Reader (Part.1)

You trip a little because you were too busy staring at your crush (Part.1)

Your admiration for your crush causes you to trip, highlighting the awkward yet endearing dynamics between you two.

Characters: Logan Howlett, Remy LeBeau, Kurt Wagner, Scott Summers, Jean Grey, Ororo Munroe, Rogue & Erik Lehnsherr

Logan (Wolverine)

The day had started like any other at Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters. You were heading down the long hallway leading to the training rooms, trying to focus on the list of tasks Professor Xavier had assigned for the day. But as you turned the corner, there he was—Logan, leaning against the wall, his arms crossed, muscles tense under his usual rugged leather jacket. His eyes, always intense and piercing, followed your every move as you approached.

Your heart skipped a beat, and though you tried to stay composed, you couldn’t help but let your gaze linger on him a little longer than you should have. His dark hair was tousled just right, and his rough, rugged features seemed impossibly handsome in the dim light of the hallway. You’d always tried to play it cool around Logan, but the truth was you found him irresistible—his gruff attitude, the way he carried himself with quiet authority, and that raw intensity that seemed to follow him wherever he went.

You caught yourself staring too long and quickly looked away, pretending to adjust the strap of your bag. But it was too late. In your distracted state, you missed a small crack in the tile beneath your feet and tripped, stumbling forward with a small yelp.

Before you could hit the floor, a strong arm wrapped around your waist, steadying you. Your breath hitched as you realized Logan had caught you, his grip firm and secure. You looked up, your cheeks burning with embarrassment as you met his smirking gaze.

“Y’alright, darlin’?” Logan asked, his deep voice laced with amusement.

You could feel the heat rise to your face, desperately trying to compose yourself. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just… wasn’t paying attention.”

His smirk widened as he released you, letting his hand linger on your waist just a second longer than necessary. “Seems like you were payin’ attention to somethin’, just not where you were goin’.”

You swallowed hard, your heart pounding in your chest. “I wasn’t—” you started to protest but stopped yourself. There was no point in denying it. Logan had caught you staring, and there was no way to take it back now.

Logan chuckled low in his throat, his eyes darkening as they flicked over your face. “S’okay, darlin’. I don’t mind the attention.” He winked at you, his voice dropping to a low, teasing tone. “Just be careful next time, or I might not be around to catch ya.”

You bit your lip, trying to fight back the flustered smile threatening to break free. “I’ll keep that in mind,” you said softly, your voice betraying the nervous excitement coursing through you.

Logan gave you one last smirk before turning and walking away, leaving you standing in the hallway, your heart racing and your mind spinning. You could still feel the warmth of his hand on your waist, and you couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like if he held you like that for more than just a moment.

Remy LeBeau (Gambit)

The evening sun bathed the mansion’s garden in a warm golden glow, casting long shadows across the grass. You were walking toward the small patio where the team had gathered after a long day, your mind racing with a million thoughts. Most of those thoughts, however, were focused on one man—Remy LeBeau, the smooth-talking, devilishly handsome Cajun who had been stealing glances your way for weeks now.

You’d always prided yourself on keeping your emotions in check, but something about Remy made that impossible. His effortless charm, the way his deep, accented voice could make even the most mundane conversation feel like a flirtation, and those smoldering red-on-black eyes that seemed to see right through you—it was all too much.

As you approached the patio, your eyes immediately sought him out, and there he was, sitting casually on the edge of a chair, flipping a playing card between his fingers with practiced ease. He was talking to Rogue, but his gaze flicked up to meet yours the moment you stepped into view. A slow, knowing smile spread across his lips, and your heart skipped a beat.

You quickly looked away, trying to steady your breathing. You knew he’d caught you staring, and you cursed yourself for being so obvious. Determined to play it cool, you focused on the path ahead, but your thoughts were still filled with Remy—his charming smile, the way he seemed to light up any room he walked into, and the way your stomach fluttered every time he was near.

Your focus wavered for just a second, and suddenly, your foot caught on the edge of a stone step. You stumbled forward with a gasp, arms flailing as you tried to catch yourself, but before you could hit the ground, a pair of strong hands caught you, steadying you.

“Careful, chérie,” Remy’s voice drawled softly in your ear. “Wouldn’t want ya to hurt yourself.”

Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment as you looked up at him, his face far too close for comfort. He was grinning down at you, his eyes twinkling with mischief as he helped you straighten up.

“I—uh, thanks,” you stammered, your heart racing.

Remy chuckled, his fingers brushing lightly against your arm as he released you. “No need to thank me, mon amour. But I gotta say, I like that you can’t keep your eyes off me.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but the words got stuck in your throat. You could see the playful glint in his eyes, and it was impossible to stay mad at him when he looked at you like that.

“I wasn’t—” you started, but he cut you off with a wink.

“No need to be shy, chérie. I know a good look when I see one.” He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. “And I don’t mind one bit.”

Your pulse quickened at the heat in his gaze, and for a moment, you couldn’t think of anything clever to say. His hand lingered on your arm, his thumb tracing gentle circles on your skin, and you couldn’t help but wonder what it would feel like if he touched you more than just casually.

Before you could respond, Remy stepped back, his trademark grin still in place. “You gonna join us, or you just gonna stand there starin’ at me all night?”

With one last smirk, he turned and walked back to the group, leaving you standing there, heart pounding, and wondering just how long you could keep hiding your feelings for him.

Kurt Wagner (Nightcrawler)

The atmosphere in the mansion was lively today, with the team bustling about, preparing for their next mission. You were sitting in the library, enjoying a rare moment of peace, flipping through a book while trying to calm your racing thoughts. But it wasn’t the mission that had your heart pounding. It was Kurt—Kurt Wagner, the sweet, charming man who had been occupying your thoughts more and more lately.

You’d never admit it out loud, but you found yourself drawn to him in a way that surprised even you. His kind heart, his gentle nature, and that infectious laugh of his—it was impossible not to fall for him. But more than that, you loved the way Kurt treated you. He was always respectful, always kind, but there was an underlying tension between you two, a connection you hadn’t yet acknowledged.

You sighed, trying to focus on the words in front of you, but your mind kept drifting to the memory of Kurt’s smile, the way his bright yellow eyes seemed to light up whenever he saw you. You were so lost in thought that you didn’t hear the soft *bamf* of Kurt teleporting into the room until he was suddenly standing right in front of you.

“Guten Tag!” Kurt greeted cheerfully, flashing you that warm, heart-melting smile of his.

Your heart leapt into your throat as you looked up, startled. “Oh! Hey, Kurt,” you said, quickly closing the book and hoping he hadn’t noticed the way you’d been daydreaming about him.

Kurt tilted his head, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “You looked deep in thought, meine freundin. I hope I did not disturb you.”

You shook your head quickly, offering him a smile. “No, not at all. I was just… thinking.”

He raised an eyebrow, a playful smile tugging at his lips. “Thinking about anything—or anyone—in particular?”

Your cheeks burned at his words, and you quickly averted your gaze, trying to hide your embarrassment. “Just… stuff.”

Kurt chuckled softly, his tail flicking back and forth as he moved closer. “Well, I hope it was pleasant thoughts,” he said, his voice gentle and full of warmth.

You looked up at him, and for a moment, your heart fluttered at the way his eyes seemed to glow with kindness. He always had that effect on you, making you feel comfortable and at ease, even when you were a bundle of nerves around him.

But as you tried to stand up, your foot caught on the edge of the chair, and you stumbled forward, nearly falling face-first into Kurt’s chest. His arms were around you in an instant, steadying you before you could hit the ground.

“Vorsicht!” he exclaimed, his hands warm and firm on your waist. “I’ve got you.”

You felt your face heat up with embarrassment as you looked up at him, your heart pounding from both the near-fall and the sudden proximity. His yellow eyes met yours, and for a moment, neither of you moved, the air between you thick with unspoken tension. His hands lingered on your waist a little longer than necessary, and you couldn’t help but wonder if he was feeling the same magnetic pull that you were.

“I—I’m sorry,” you stammered, trying to pull yourself together. “I wasn’t paying attention.”

Kurt smiled softly, his thumb gently brushing your waist as he held you. “It’s quite alright. But you must be careful, meine freundin, or I might have to catch you more often.”

You laughed nervously, your heart racing. “I’ll try to avoid any more near-falls.”

But instead of pulling away, Kurt’s gaze softened, his fingers still resting against your waist. “Perhaps I wouldn’t mind if you needed catching every now and then.”

Your breath caught in your throat at his words, and for a brief moment, you felt as though the world had faded away, leaving just the two of you standing there, inches apart, with something unspoken hanging in the air between you.

Before you could say anything, Kurt cleared his throat, breaking the moment as he slowly released his hold on you. “I suppose we should both watch where we’re going, ja?”

You nodded, still trying to shake off the lingering warmth from his touch. “Yeah… yeah, we should.”

Kurt smiled at you one last time before teleporting away in a cloud of smoke, leaving you standing there, heart pounding and mind spinning, wondering if you’d ever be brave enough to admit how you felt.

Scott Summers (Cyclops)

The X-Mansion was always a whirlwind of activity, and today was no different. You were making your way through the training center, trying to stay focused on the drills the team had been practicing, but it was impossible to ignore the tall, composed figure of Scott Summers—your team leader, and the one person who seemed to occupy your thoughts more often than not.

Scott was always so serious, so focused on his responsibilities as leader, that it sometimes made it difficult to get a read on how he felt about anything outside of missions. But over the past few weeks, there had been moments—fleeting glances, the way his voice softened when he spoke to you—that made you wonder if there was something more beneath that stoic exterior.

You were lost in thought, your mind running through every interaction you’d had with Scott, when you spotted him across the training floor, arms crossed and eyes hidden behind those ever-present ruby quartz glasses. He was watching the team closely, but the moment your eyes landed on him, he looked up, locking onto you with a gaze that felt more intense than it had any right to be.

Your heart skipped a beat, and you quickly averted your gaze, focusing on anything but the way Scott’s attention made your pulse race. But in your distraction, you misjudged the distance between you and a training obstacle and promptly tripped over a piece of equipment, stumbling forward with a startled yelp.

You didn’t even have time to hit the ground before Scott was at your side, catching you with surprising swiftness. His strong arms wrapped around you, pulling you up before you could completely lose your balance.

“Careful,” he said in that calm, authoritative voice of his. “You alright?”

You nodded quickly, trying to ignore the heat rising to your cheeks as you realized just how close you were to him. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just… wasn’t paying attention.”

Scott’s grip on your arm was firm but gentle, and for a moment, you felt the tension between you, the unspoken attraction that you’d both been trying to ignore. He held you just a little longer than necessary, his gaze focused on you even though his eyes were hidden behind his visor.

“You should be more careful,” Scott said, his voice softening ever so slightly. “I don’t want you getting hurt.”

Your breath caught at the concern in his voice, and you couldn’t help but wonder if there was something more behind his words. “I’ll try to be,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.

Scott gave you a small, almost imperceptible smile before finally letting go, stepping back and giving you the space you needed to collect yourself. But as he walked away, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted between you—that maybe, just maybe, Scott Summers felt the same way you did.

Ororo Munroe (Storm)

The sky outside the mansion was a brilliant blue, the kind of day that seemed to radiate peace and beauty—much like the woman who controlled the weather. Ororo Munroe, with her regal posture and serene presence, had always been someone you admired, not just for her powers but for the way she carried herself with such grace and strength.

Over time, though, admiration had turned into something deeper. You found yourself drawn to her warmth, her wisdom, and the quiet moments you shared together. But you were always too afraid to say anything, afraid that admitting your feelings would somehow disturb the delicate balance between you.

Today was no different. You were walking through the mansion grounds, heading toward the greenhouse where Ororo often spent her time. The sun was warm on your skin, and as you approached, you spotted her among the flowers, her silver hair catching the light like a halo.

For a moment, you just watched her, captivated by the way she seemed to blend so effortlessly with nature, her beauty almost ethereal. You were so lost in the sight of her that you didn’t even notice the uneven ground beneath your feet. Your toe caught on a rock, and you stumbled forward with an awkward flail of your arms.

Ororo looked up just in time to see you trip, and before you could recover, she was at your side, her hand catching your arm with a gentle but steady grip.

“Are you alright?” she asked, her voice soft and soothing, like a summer breeze.

You quickly straightened up, trying to laugh off your clumsiness. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just… wasn’t watching where I was going.”

Ororo smiled, her hand lingering on your arm as she looked at you with those calm, knowing eyes. “It seems you were lost in thought,” she said, her voice carrying a hint of teasing warmth.

You swallowed hard, your heart fluttering at the way her gaze seemed to see right through you. “I guess I was,” you admitted, unable to look away from her.

Ororo’s smile widened slightly as she finally released your arm, stepping back but still close enough that you could feel the warmth of her presence. “Be careful,” she said, her tone playful yet kind. “I would hate for you to fall again.”

You nodded, your cheeks warm with embarrassment, but there was something in Ororo’s eyes that made you wonder if she knew exactly what—or rather, who—you had been thinking about.

Jean Grey

The mansion was quiet, most of the team off on various missions or training exercises. You found yourself in the library, trying to focus on the book in front of you, but your mind kept wandering to Jean Grey—the powerful telepath who had slowly become the center of your thoughts.

Jean had always been kind to you, her warmth and compassion making her easy to talk to. But as time passed, you began to realize that your feelings for her went far beyond friendship. You admired her strength, her beauty, and the quiet confidence she carried, but you were too afraid to say anything, unsure if she felt the same way.

Today, however, you couldn’t seem to stop thinking about her. You had seen her earlier in the day, her red hair shining in the sunlight, and the image of her smile had been stuck in your mind ever since. You were so distracted by thoughts of Jean that you didn’t even notice her entering the library until she was standing right in front of you.

“Hey,” Jean said, her voice soft as she smiled at you.

You quickly looked up, your heart skipping a beat as you met her gaze. “Oh, hey! I didn’t see you come in.”

Jean’s smile widened as she sat down beside you, her green eyes twinkling with amusement. “I noticed. You looked pretty deep in thought.”

You laughed nervously, trying to hide your flustered state. “Yeah, I guess I was.”

Jean tilted her head, her gaze soft but curious. “Anything—or anyone—on your mind?”

Your cheeks flushed at her words, and you quickly looked away, pretending to adjust your position in the chair. “Just… stuff,” you mumbled, not daring to look at her.

But before you could compose yourself, your foot slipped off the edge of the chair, and you stumbled forward, nearly colliding with the small table in front of you. Jean’s reflexes were quick, and she caught your arm, steadying you before you could fall completely.

“Careful!” she exclaimed, her laughter light and melodic. “You alright?”

You nodded quickly, your face burning with embarrassment. “Yeah, I’m fine. I just—wasn’t paying attention.”

Jean chuckled softly, her hand still resting on your arm as she met your gaze with a knowing smile. “You seem a little distracted today. Anything I can help with?”

Your heart raced at the warmth in her voice, and for a moment, you wondered if she could sense what you were feeling. But you quickly shook your head, trying to brush it off. “No, I’m just… clumsy.”

Jean raised an eyebrow, her smile never faltering. “Well, I don’t mind catching you. Just try not to fall too often.”

Her words were playful, but there was a softness in her gaze that made your heart flutter, and you couldn’t help but wonder if she knew exactly what was going on in your mind—even if you weren’t ready to admit it yet.

Rogue (Anna Marie)

It was supposed to be a normal day at the X-Mansion, but with Rogue around, things rarely felt ordinary. You were in the common area, trying to go over mission reports, but your attention kept drifting to Anna Marie. She was lounging on the couch, flipping through a magazine, her gloved hands idly turning the pages as she hummed a familiar tune.

You’d always admired Rogue—from her strength to the way she handled the burden of her powers. But somewhere along the line, admiration had grown into something more. You found yourself drawn to her in ways that made your heart race and your stomach flip. Her quick wit, her beauty, that Southern charm—it was impossible not to be captivated.

But she was untouchable, literally. Rogue couldn’t get close to people, and as much as you felt something between you, the invisible wall her powers created was hard to ignore.

You sighed, trying to focus back on your reports, but Rogue shifted slightly, causing your gaze to drift to her again. Her hair cascaded down her back, the white streaks so striking against the dark brown. You caught yourself staring, and as if on cue, she looked up and met your eyes.

You quickly glanced away, your heart pounding. But the damage was done—your distraction caused you to knock your cup of coffee off the table, and in your attempt to catch it, you lost your balance and nearly toppled out of your chair.

Rogue was at your side in an instant, catching your arm before you could hit the floor. Her grip was firm but careful, gloved hands ensuring no skin-to-skin contact. She smiled, a playful glint in her green eyes.

“Careful, sugar,” she drawled, her Southern accent making your heart skip a beat. “You alright?”

You nodded, desperately trying to get a hold of yourself. “Yeah, just… clumsy today, I guess.”

Rogue chuckled, her thumb brushing over your arm lightly, sending shivers down your spine despite the barrier of fabric between you. “Looks like you got somethin’ on your mind.”

You tried to laugh it off, though the warmth in her voice and the way she was looking at you made your pulse quicken. “I’m just a little distracted, that’s all.”

Rogue’s smile widened, and she leaned in just a fraction closer. “If you’re thinkin’ about somethin’ important, I could help take your mind off it.”

Her words were teasing, but there was a hint of something deeper in her gaze—something that made you wonder if she felt the same electric tension that you did. But before you could say anything, Rogue pulled back, releasing your arm and stepping away with that trademark smirk of hers.

“Just be careful next time, alright?” she said, her eyes lingering on you for a moment longer than usual before she sauntered back to the couch.

As you sat back down, your heart still racing, you couldn’t help but wonder if Rogue was just as affected by the moments you shared as you were—even if there was always that invisible barrier between you.

Erik Lehnsherr (Magneto)

Being around Erik Lehnsherr was always a challenge. The man was powerful, charismatic, and brilliant—a force of nature who commanded respect with every word he spoke. You admired his strength and conviction, even if you didn’t always agree with his methods. But admiration had turned into something else, something you weren’t quite ready to admit.

You found yourself in his presence more often than you intended, drawn to the magnetic pull of his personality. Today was no different. You were in the briefing room, preparing for a strategy session, but instead of focusing on the task at hand, your eyes kept drifting to Erik.

He stood by the window, his silver hair catching the light as he gazed out over the grounds, his expression unreadable. You’d seen him in action countless times, watched him lead with precision and power, but there was something about the quiet moments—when he wasn’t Magneto, but simply Erik—that captivated you.

You were so lost in your thoughts that you didn’t realize he had turned to look at you until it was too late. Caught off guard, you fumbled with the papers in your hand, dropping them all over the floor.

Erik’s lips quirked into a slight smirk as he stepped forward, his hand outstretched. With a subtle flick of his fingers, the scattered papers floated off the ground, neatly arranging themselves back into your grasp. He didn’t say a word, but the amused glint in his eyes spoke volumes.

“Thank you,” you muttered, feeling your cheeks heat with embarrassment.

Erik crossed his arms over his chest, watching you with that same intense gaze. “You seem… distracted,” he observed, his voice smooth and commanding as always.

You swallowed hard, trying to keep your composure. “I was just… thinking.”

“About something important, I hope,” he replied, his eyes never leaving yours. “Or perhaps… someone?”

Your breath caught in your throat at his words, and for a moment, you wondered if he could sense the turmoil inside you. But you quickly shook your head, forcing a smile. “Just thinking about the mission.”

Erik raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced, but he didn’t press the issue. Instead, he stepped closer, his presence commanding the space between you. “Be careful where your mind wanders, my dear. Distraction can be dangerous.”

There was a subtle edge to his words, as if he knew more than he was letting on. As he turned and walked away, you couldn’t shake the feeling that Erik had sensed the truth—that you were just as drawn to him as he was to power.

[anarchistettin]

Sorry but if you're turning the powerful beam of your intellectual disdain on anarchists while hijacking queer slang to describe christo-fascists instead of building your revolutionary army that will put down all the hegemonic nations in one go, you might not be landing your criticisms as hard as you'd wanted.

Sorry but if you're crying and shaking and shitting and throwing up about "tankies/red fascists" while out and proud Christo-fascists who think your body is the site of a literal war with Satan they need to win take over the country you're a dumbass with no survival instinct

[gucciwins]

Y/N just wants Harry to like her.

Word count: 5964

A/N: Friends!!!!! I am sorry to have disappeared but I am back. Yes, I am aware this is a Halloween/October story but you're getting it now mid November (that has been going by fast). I won't work on any holiday stories because I have no idea what to write. So if you have an idea and want me to write it feel free to shoot me an ask.

Now happy reading! I love you

+

Many people go to work ready to return home, but not Y/N. No, she walks in every day with a smile and a pep in her step. She greets her coworkers by name and occasionally brings baked goods she knows everyone will enjoy. Y/N loves her job, and she’s happy to go every day.

Y/N went from working in a job she hated because it was filled with men constantly belittling her and gaslighting her that she was doing her job wrong when she was actually excelling. It all got to be too much, and Y/N decided to quit. Thank goodness she did because soon into her job search, she received an email from Carla Crain asking her if she’d be interested in joining her company. Y/N went to the interview, and after basically being pitched her dream job, she accepted and entered as head engineer. 

She’d be lying if she wasn’t nervous starting, but the people Carla had hired all shared the same values on work and life. Y/N knew she’d be in safe hands. The company is small but slowly growing. It allows for every employee to get to know each other and everyone to remember that together, they can be successful. Y/N had been at the job for two years and, with time, brought new coworkers. 

There is Estrella, who loves to talk to you about astrology, ironically enough. She states that the invisible string theory is real and that if everyone tracked it, they would notice just how small the world is. 

Carmy has a tough exterior, but once anyone gets him talking, he never stops. He loves chatting about his family and his pet Pitbull named Daisy. 

Maeve is petite, and every other month comes in with a new color in their hair. Y/N enjoys it when everyone in the office places bets on what it will be. 

Tatum is from Scotland and loves to remind everyone when they all go out for drinks on the weekend. 

Chessy is the only one who works remotely, but when she comes in, she is always laughing in the office. They also all get a basket of fresh fruit and vegetables from her garden. 

Overall, Y/N knows she had the best coworkers and wouldn’t change her job for the world, but as their company grows, so does the need in their team. The newest hire is Harry Styles, who has come in as a computer technician to help develop their website and also help with any internal security. Honestly, all she knew was that it was a complex job. 

Harry was on the quiet side. She tried to start conversations with him, but he always seemed to brush her off. At first, Y/N wondered if she should take it personally but soon learned he did that to everyone. Even though he didn’t open up to them, they still invited Harry to join them. 

The thing was, he rejected all their dinners. Y/N loved going to a Korean BBQ Maeve introduced them to, and Harry claimed not to eat meat (not that she didn’t think it wasn’t true. Chessy was vegetarian, after all.) They would go to a bar and share a few drinks when they knew they would all be having a long weekend off. Harry always claimed he had an early morning. It didn't matter if they offered to meet earlier. Y/N’s favorite nights were trivia nights that happened at a local brewery. Y/N was a beat, especially in history. Harry declined, and this one hurt her the most.

 Everyone would ask Harry to join. 

Karaoke. Can’t hold a tune.

Bowling. Too loud. 

It seems there was an excuse for everything.

Everyone began to stop inviting him out, and while Y/N didn’t enjoy being told no, she would send notes to the office with the time and place of what they would be doing. She’d always keep an eye on the door, but Y/N went home disappointed each time.

The thing was, Y/N was determined to make a friend out of Harry. She soon learned large public settings must be overwhelming for him and decided to find a new way to approach him. Everyone took lunch at the same time in the office except for Harry. Sometimes, they all ate at the sub shop across the street. Most times, Y/N brought food from home, and she cooked. While she liked eating out, Y/N preferred a home-cooked meal. She caught Harry taking his lunch half an hour later than her and used that to her advantage. 

They had a conference that always remained empty as everyone preferred the main lounge. Harry went in there every day for his lunch hour. One day, Y/N walks in, smiles at him, and sits as far away as she can. She made sure to only be there for ten minutes. The next day, she stayed for twenty and wished him a nice lunch when she left.  

Slowly, Harry begins to spare her glances, but Y/N keeps to herself until the day she sits across from him. 

“Hi, Harry. Is it okay for me to sit here?” 

No answer. 

“I’m going to take that as a yes.” 

He fidgets with his fork. 

“I saw a lime bike out front. Did you ride that today?” 

Harry looks at her briefly before staring back at his plate. 

“I’ve always wanted to try one, but I’m honestly scared of being hit by a car. Chessy lets me ride hers when I go down to visit her. She’s got beautiful trails. You’d probably enjoy it.” 

Y/N thinks that’s enough for today and excuses herself. She doesn’t realize Harry noticed she didn’t take a bite of her lunch. When she goes back to her desk after using the restroom, she finds three chocolate chip cookies sitting on her desk. Y/N rushes to try one, doesn’t even think of who delivered them or that a green-eyed man was standing right outside waiting to hear her reaction. 

With time, it seems Harry is coming to appreciate Y/N’s presence. He has never expressed it, but she knows because he nods when he agrees to something she says or tightens the hold on his fork when Y/N shares something upsetting. Y/N had not gotten more than two words out of him. At this point, Y/N felt like Harry knew everything about her; all she knew was that he had the most beautiful eyes, and his hair always looked soft. 

One day, after many lunches together, she finds Harry reading a book. Y/N knows he might want quiet, but her curiosity gets the best of her. 

“Any good?”

Harry looks up and grimaces. “Think it’s really boring.” 

Y/N laughs because she wasn’t expecting that response. “Then put it down.” 

He shakes his head. “Don’t like not knowing the ending.”

Y/N shrugs, “if you don’t like a book, I wouldn’t put myself through the torture of it all. Skip to the end if you're curious.” She understands she spoke too much and excuses herself. 

The next day, Harry is sitting in his usual spot, but this time, a new book is in his hand. Y/N bites back a smile. 

“What’s this one about?”

“My sister recommended it,” he defends. 

Y/N isn’t halted by his harsh tone. “What’s it about?” 

“Well, it’s Pride and Prejudice.” He shows her the book cover. 

“Like the movie?” Y/N asks.

Harry laughs, and Y/N feels successful. His laughter rings in her ears. It’s a lovely sound, and she wishes to hear it more. “Yeah…I like the movie.” 

“Me too,” she gushes. “Do you think I’d like the book?”

He frowns, “if you like Jane Austen.” 

“Might have to pick it up next time I’m in the shops.”

+

Their interactions are solely during their lunches but sometimes spills out during work. Y/N seemed to have an issue with her computer and radioed IT. She needed to submit her document, but her desktop appeared to freeze whenever she opened a new file. Harry knocked on her door, and she welcomed him in. Y/N explained the issue, and Harry was quick to get to work. It was only a few minutes when she noticed that her document was open and her computer wasn’t having a meltdown.

“Thank you so much, Harry!” Y/N cheers, knowing he saved her. 

Harry shrugs because it’s his job. “You have a nice photo.” He’s pointing to her picture frame on her desk. It’s a picture of her and a dog in Iceland at the end of her hike. It was taken back when she was nineteen years old. 

“Thank you. I took that on my first solo trip.” She bites her lip, hoping Harry takes the bait. 

“Where to?” He asks curiously. 

She silently cheers, “Iceland.”

“Is that your dog?” 

“I actually found him mid-hike and took him back with me. I hoped to see his owner on the trail, but there was no luck. He didn’t even seem worried. Once I returned to the car park, his owner was there. After that hike, I decided I liked the company of a dog and returned home to adopt Tutter, a Jack Russel Terrier who loves to play fetch.”

“Why isn’t Tutter on your desk?” 

Y/N feels her face flush, “now, don’t be mean. I love my son, but that trip taught me I can do anything I set my mind to, whether alone or with company.”

Harry gives her the slightest smile. “I-I learned Italian because I always dreamed of having an Italian home.”

Y/N’s eyes brighten. Harry is opening up to her, and instead of pushing, she offers more of herself. “I’ve dreamed of visiting. The Amalfi coast is my dream to swim in. Silly, I know,” she brushes off, trying to downplay her excitement. 

Harry doesn’t let her. “You’ll make it.”

He finally excuses himself. Y/N is happy for the rest of the day because she realizes Harry is allowing her in.

+

September means the preparations for Halloween have begun. It starts with little things, from coasters and mugs to the occasional treat. One day, a tiny spider sits on his desk for a second. Harry believed it was real until it began to glow purple. Harry kept it on his desk next to his sticky notes. He doesn't do anything about it; there’s no need. By the second week, the office is entirely decorated. Harry admits a few decorations have scared him, especially the skeleton in the corner of the restroom.

It’s a quiet day when he’s walking by the break room on his way to the secluded office to have lunch when he hears people talking. Harry pauses because he hears Y/N’s voice mixed in with everyone else. 

“But it seems like he doesn’t like us,” Harry hears quietly. 

“It’s hard,” Y/N defends. “You’re all extroverts. It can be overwhelming.” 

Harry knows she’s trying for them to understand.

“But Carla is all about unity in the office. This is a concern.”

“It’s not, Carmy.” Y/N shuts him down, clearly upset she had to defend him.

Harry decides he’s heard enough and decides to eat lunch alone in his car. He’s thankful it was a sandwich and nothing he had to heat up. For the entire lunch and the rest of the day, all he thinks about are the words of his coworkers. 

Y/N looked for Harry, excited to talk about a book she started, but Harry was nowhere to be found. She wouldn’t have been concerned, but it’s clear no one saw him since before lunch. She wishes Harry could confide in her even if a fraction of what she shares with him/ 

The next day, everyone walks into the office at their usual time, everyone making their rounds together to the break room to prepare their coffees and store their lunch in the fridge. When Y/N walks in, she sees her coworkers huddled around the table and peeks around them to see what has captured their attention. There on the table is a box of Halloween cookies from a bakery uptown with a note attached. 

Enjoy - HS

Y/N lets a smile take over her face. She knew Harry cared about them but understood why he finally did something. She tells her coworkers they owe him an apology, and they all agree. Y/N makes sure to head to Harry’s office and thank him for the cookies. Harry tells her it’s nothing. She bounces away to her office, where Estrella, Carmy, Maeve, and Tatum are standing outside her door. 

“Can you come with us? Feel like he likes you.” Tatum tells her. 

Y/N sighs and tells them to follow her. Once again, she knocks on his door, and they all file in when he welcomes her in. Harry looks at them confused. 

“Uh, is there an issue?” Harry asks, concerned. 

Carmy starts, “we want to apologize if you overheard us yesterday.” 

“Right,” Harry sighs, knowing it might be a good time to share with them. If he trusted Y/N and she trusted them, he knew he could also start to. 

“It was wrong of us,” Maeve continues. “Y/N raves about how smart and nice you are, but we don’t get to see that. We’re sorry.” 

Everyone else repeats the sentiment while Harry looks at Y/N, who offers him an encouraging smile. She must know his anxiety is through the roof. 

Harry takes a deep breath, “right, uh.” He looks down at his shoes, untied lace on his black Adidas. “I struggle with social anxiety and new environments. It’s better than when I was a kid, but it’s easy to get overwhelmed even more when being the new guy.” 

“No worries. We get that,” Tatum expresses. “Estrella gets bad migraines.” 

“Don’t air other people’s personal stuff,” Y/N reminds them. 

“We’re sorry,” they offered one last time. “Thanks for the cookies.” 

After that, they hurried out while Y/N stayed behind. 

“I wanted to apologize,” he begins.

“You don’t–” Harry cuts her off. “You’ve made me feel comfortable.”

Y/N sighs, letting her shoulders drop. “Not enough, it seems.” 

“It can just be too much sometimes.”

“I-I get panic attacks.” Y/N shares, surprising herself. “When I overwhelm myself, it can happen. It’s uncommon and has not happened at work, but I understand.” 

“Thank you for sharing,” Harry tells her honestly. “Lunch?” 

“See you in a bit then.”

+

Through September, Y/N and Harry have lunch together every day. They read together, Harry more into classic literature, and Y/N loving to devour a juicy romance that has her pausing every few minutes, trying her best not to scream because the love interest brushed hands. Some days, Y/N will do a sudoku game while Harry does the daily crossword. Y/N likes to solve the Wordle of the day and most times asks Harry for help if she fears she might not get it. Some days, Y/N brings in her laptop during lunch because she is behind and needs to catch up. Harry reminds her to relax. He knows it’s easier said than done, so he tells her about the book he’s reading or asks about her dog and the snacks he eats. 

Before she knows if they’ve made it to October. One of the best months of the year. Y/N loves planning events, and this is one she wishes Harry would say yes to. She knocks on his office door, and Harry freezes, staring at his computer screen. He glances at the calendar; it's the first Monday of the month, and Harry knows they’ve planned a fun event. 

Harry is practicing his excuse when Y/N walks in with a bright smile, wearing a “Great Pumpkin” shirt with Snoopy and Charlie Brown. She has told him it’s her favorite movie to watch during the month and “The Conjuring” Harry wasn’t sure how the sweetest girl he knew could handle a horror film like that. He had told her she was fearless.

“Hi, Y/N, pretty shirt.” 

Y/N looks down at it as if she had forgotten what she was wearing. She beams at his compliment. “Thank you, Harry!” 

Harry asks how her day is going and shares how there was traffic on the way down and how she didn’t have time to stop by her favorite coffee shop because there was a line out the door. “Pumpkin spice isn’t even that good, H. I mean, it’s okay, but I wanted my coffee.”

He laughs at her pouting and promises to make her one during lunch. She perks up at his mention of their shared time together. 

“Speaking of our time together. We plan to go to a haunted pumpkin patch in the next town over if you want to join us. It’s two weeks from now, so it's the 21st.” Harry could hear the excitement in her voice and didn’t think he could say no to her.

“Everyone is going?”

“We invited everyone, but only Carmy, Estella, Maeve, Tatum, and myself are going. Carla was not for it. Dan is warming up to us but still says no. Though he did agree for trivia next week.”

Before he can stop himself, he says, “yes.”

“You will?” Y/N answers surprised. 

“Mhm…uh, it sounds like fun,” he says unconvincingly.

Y/N’s smile brightens, “I’m not hung on haunts, but they’ve got amazing apple cider you’ve got to try with me.” 

“Happy to join,” he tells her honestly. “Let me know the ticket cost or if we need to purchase our own.”

She nods eagerly. It’s clear Harry has just made her day. 

+

The day comes faster than he’s ready, and while a part of him is excited, Harry feels his nerves will get the best of him. Y/N had told them no one was dressing up in costume and even went as far as to send him a photo of her outfit to assure him she wasn’t playing a joke with him. She was wearing bell bottoms with a Mickey Mouse in a pumpkin shirt. She told him it was his favorite to wear each year. 

Harry knew it would be cold, so he wore a simple Halloween shirt in his closet and loose-fitting jeans. His jacket in his car he knew would keep him warm throughout the night. He wasn’t trying to impress anyone (only Y/N) but also wanted to look nice outside of the office for once. When Harry parked, Y/N told him she’d wait by the entrance for him, and he couldn’t miss her as she had a cute pumpkin headband on.

It seemed Y/N spotted him, too, because she rushed towards him. “Hi, Harry,” she greeted with a cheery smile.

“Hi, you look lovely,” he offered her a small compliment that made his hands sweat.

“You’re too sweet. Come on, we were waiting on you.” She grabs his hand and pulls him along to where everyone else is. 

Everyone offers their greeting, and he receives a few compliments on his tame outfit. It’s an old Halloween shirt he got at a vintage shop in New Orleans five years ago. His sister went on a trip and asked him to join. Harry could never say no to her. 

Harry notices everyone begins to drift off into conversations, but Y/N stays by his side. He takes the time to admire her as she looks around at all the decorations. There are a lot of people, but it seems they are heading to the pumpkin patch. There are stalls selling sweet treats, and he keeps in mind to buy Y/N a cider, remembering she mentioned loving it. Harry has always thought being in a relationship to be intimidating. He loves love but struggles to put himself out there, to allow someone else to get to know him, but here is Y/N, who managed to worm her way into his life, knocking down all of his walls. 

Harry likes Y/N.

It’s something he took a long time to figure out, but when he realized the excitement of seeing her each morning, he looked forward to it. He let it consume him, but he had no idea if she could feel the same way. 

“Did you drive here, Harry?” Y/N asks, breaking their silence. 

“I did,” he answers. 

“Do you think you could maybe take me home?” She brushes her hair out of her face. “I came with Tatum, but she’s been wanting to take the time to connect with Estella, if you know what I mean,” Y/N gestures to them kissing on hay bales. 

Harry had no idea that there were feelings between them. “I can do that, Y/N.” 

“Great!” She cheers gratefully. “I owe you an apple cider, then.” 

Y/N eagerly walks them to the stand, and before she can pay for both, Harry slips the kind older lady a twenty walking away with their drinks. Y/N stays behind, shocked, but quickly catches up, pouting at Harry. “Harry, I was going to pay.”

He shook his head, “my mum would have my head if I let you pay.”

Y/N bends her head, careful to take a sip of the warm drink. “Well, thank you.”

Maeve bounces over to them. “Hi beauties, we’re ready to start if you all are.” 

Harry eyes Y/N, waiting to see her response. Y/N offers her friend a large grin, and Harry agrees he’s ready. He throws away their ups, and once he finds Y/N with the group, he slithers to stand behind her. Y/N offers him a tense smile as the group tries to decide who will lead. 

“I can go in front,” Harry offers, sensing no one wanting to make the first move. Everyone thanks him and heads to the first maze. Y/N informs him it’s once based on the catacombs in France. 

“There’s a movie based on the catacombs,” Y/N shares as they walk together.

“As Above So Below,” Harry says. “It spooked me.” 

“You’ve seen it,” she laughs, holding onto his arm for a second, unable to contain her excitement. “It’s one of my favorites.”

“It’s a good one,” he agrees. 

They fall into silence as the chatter of their coworker fills the air. Harry sees Y/N get fidgety, but she’s smiling as she leads the way to the short line. “I’m actually really nervous,” she tells Harry. 

“We’ll be fine. I got you,” he assures Y/N.

Harry extends his hand, and she accepts it. He intertwines their fingers and pulls her along as the line moves slowly. Y/N does her best not to think about the feeling of his hand, but it fits perfectly between hers. She feels her hand begin to sweat and wants to pull it away, but Harry has a firm grip on her. 

“Is it okay?” Harry nods, gesturing to their hands. 

“Safe, uh, I feel safe.”

The worker asks how many, and Y/N peeks behind Harry to tell her six. Harry is grateful Y/N knows when to take charge because while he can lead a scary maze and knows everyone is dressed in costumes, he still feels nervous speaking to strangers. Harry squeezes her hand once in thanks. She gives him two quick squeezes in return.

Harry guides them in. Y/N lets go of his hand to hide behind Harry, her hands on his shoulder as she peeks behind him. There is a group ahead where she can hear the people in front screaming, which allows her to prepare for the scare, if that is even possible. 

Her eyes widen in amazement as she takes in the darkness of the building. Everything is covered in black cloth. She can see the spots where actors will jump out. Y/N mumbles an apology to Harry for holding on to him tight. Estella is behind her, screaming at everything that moves. Harry steps through the curtain, and she feels her hold on him loosen. As she is stepping closer to reach him, a man screams in her face, making her rush forward and propel Harry into a wall. 

“I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry.” Y/N apologized repeatedly as Harry rushed them to finish the maze. She felt her heartbeat in her throat and knew she needed to calm down. One look at Harry, and he rushed her to a dark corner, not concerned about their friends. 

“Y/N? I’m okay. You’re okay.” Harry tried assuring her.

She repeated it in her head. They were okay. They got out of the dumb maze, and Harry wasn’t hurt. It took her a few minutes to realize she had a panic attack. Y/N had not even felt it coming and didn’t think a haunted house would trip her into one, but with all the overthinking she had been doing, it made sense it led to this.

“I’m sorry, Harry.” Y/N bashfully looks away from him. She can’t believe she embarrassed herself in front of him like this. 

“No apologies,” he brushes her off and doesn’t ask her any questions, only to ensure she is okay. 

They rejoin the group after ten minutes by the looks of everyone's sympathetic smiles. She knows they saw her freak out, but they’re her friends. She knows she’s in safe hands with everyone, especially Harry.

“What’s the next maze?” Y/N asks cheerfully. 

And so they continue on. 

The next maze is much smoother than the first. Carmy leads, tucking Harry and Y/N in the middle with Tatum and Estella in the back. That order seems to comfort Y/N for the next few mazes. Each worker makes her scream but then falls into giggles when Harry traces comforting shapes on her hand. It takes her mind off these scarers trying to get her to scream and instead focus on the gentle touches of her crush. 

While doing the mazes is fun, Y/N is soaking up talking to Harry in line. They’re in a new environment where they do not need to discuss work. She feels free to ask him anything, but sometimes she is unsure where to start. Y/N doesn’t know if she wants to hear about his weekend plans or ask him about his favorite movie or who his favorite Muppet character is? 

Talking to Maeve and everyone else is easy because she’s gone out with them. She knows them personally, but with Harry, he always kept that guard up, and now she’s unsure what to do if he decides to keep it up. 

To her surprise, Harry always starts the conversation with her. Harry shares about a new show he started watching and how it makes him anxious for the main character when they do something out of character. When he asks Y/N if there is a show she recommends, her mind goes blank, and the first thing that comes to mind is “Fleabag.” 

“It’s the saddest but most comforting show I have ever seen,” Y/N gushes. 

“With Phoebe Waller-Bridge?” 

“Mhmm…the second season has Andrew Scott. Irish treasure.” 

“Paul Mescal,” he adds. 

“Hozier.” 

“Saoirse Ronan,” they say in unison before falling into fits of giggles. 

“You’ve got taste, Styles.” 

“As do you.” 

The line moves, and they change conversations to talk about the best musicals they’ve seen. Y/N swears “Waitress” is the best thing created, but Harry tells her “Moulin Rouge” is his favorite. Y/N loves how easily the conversation with Harry seems to flow. He feels like a long-lost friend. Someone who once was in her life has now found his way back to her. 

Not only is he getting along with her, but everyone is getting to see the Harry she had come to know. The one who makes cheesy jokes and loves to hear every detail of the story being told. It turns out he and Maeve frequent the same record store. There’s a Stevie Nicks vinyl Harry is on the hunt for, and Maeve promised to keep an eye out for him. Tatum learns Harry can play guitar and asks him to show them sometime. Something he agreed to with pink cheeks. Y/N knew tonight was a big step for Harry, and she was glad everyone made him feel comfortable.

As the night was coming to an end, the maze lines got shorter, and the more Y/N screamed. It made her laugh right after, but still not her favorite part of the night. Before the cold can settle in, they all call it a midnight night. Tatum and Estella head out hand in hand. Y/N can’t wait for the details of that on Monday. Carmy is telling Harry a story, so Maeve uses the opportunity to remind Y/N to make a move.

“It’s now or never, girlfriend.” 

Y/N rolls her eyes, “please don’t pressure me on this.” 

“Y/N that man is, head over heels for you. If I was antisocial this is not an event I would ever do. Unless someone I fancied asked.” 

Y/N toes her food in the sand and, in a low voice, asks, “do you really think he likes me?” 

Maeve smiles, brushing Y/N’s hair out of her eyes. “That man lit up every time your eyes were on him. I don’t know Harry as well as you do, but I can notice a guy with a crush from miles away. Trust me on this.” 

Y/N backs down, relaxing, “okay.” 

“Good. Now text me when you get home. Carmy’s got me.” Maeve gives her a tight hug and then pulls Carmy away from Harry. 

He walks over to her with a shy smile on his face. “Have a good time?” 

“The best,” she tells him. “Though I might need another apple cider. Think my heart needs it.”

“By all means, lead the way.” 

After getting one last warm apple cider, they reach Harry’s car. It’s an electric car because he’s conscious of his environmental impact and knows one person can go a long way into the future. Harry opens Y/N’s car door and waits until he sees her seated and buckled to close her door. As he gets ready to drive off, he turns on the heater, knowing if he’s cold, Y/N must be too. 

The car ride starts off quietly, Y/N guiding him every so often when to make a turn. Y/N sees her favorite coffee shop and knows she is almost home. “That was fun,” Harry starts. “I’m happy I went.” 

“Mhmm…it was a good time. Glad you joined us,” she tells him honestly. 

Harry notices at a red light that she’s fidgeting with her hands and thinks he might still be cold. “Do you need me to turn up the heater?” 

Y/N shakes her head, “no, sorry, I’m fine.” 

Harry drives down a few more streets when Y/N tells him to turn left. “It’s the third one on the right.” 

He parks right outside her driveway. From here, he can see her decorations hung up. It’s decorated charmingly. It’s clear no scaring would happen here. She’s got two pumpkins outside her door. One has stars carved all around; the other is a cat on a witch’s broom. Bat lights are hanging up the railing of the steps. She even has a few inflatables. His favorite has to be the one of Mickey Mouse as a vampire.

“Thank you for driving me home. I appreciated it.” She smiles at him, and he returns it. Harry gets out of the car and opens her door. 

“Let me walk you up.” 

Y/N feels her cheeks burn and leads the way. 

“We’re planning trivia soon,” Y/N says, testing the waters. 

“Hmm…only if you’re on my team.” 

“We would all be on the same team,” his flirting going over her head.

Harry’s face turns pink, “uh, right.” 

She laughs, placing her hand on his bicep. “Only joking.”

Y/N pulls him in, whispering good night, except when she pulls away, she locks eyes with his emerald eyes, and it’s like she’s in a trance. She feels herself leaning in closer, and before she knows it, Y/N presses her lips to Harry in an airy kiss.

She pulls back, shocked. “Sorry,” she breathed out. “I-I should have asked.” 

“Ask me,” he pleads. 

“What?” Y/N isn’t sure if she heard him correctly. 

Harry doesn’t care anymore. He raises his hand to rest on her cheeks. “Can I kiss you, Y/N?” 

She feels how close he is. She can feel his breath mixing with hers. “Yes.” 

When their lips meet, Y/N swears she feels time stop. Harry is starting slow as he begins to learn what she likes.  Y/N places a hand on his chest, needing to have a secure hold as she feels him take her breath away. Her emotions are all over the place. His lips are smooth as they move against hers in a dance that feels like they’ve done a hundred times before. Harry deepens the kiss, pushing her up against the door, making Y/N grab a fistful of his shirt, not wanting him to pull away. Y/N lets herself get wrapped up in all her feelings because she knows that a kiss this special means it won’t be her only one, and she finally allows all her feelings to pour into the kiss. 

Y/N isn’t sure how long they spent kissing outside her door. It seems she’s lost track of time since she got a taste of Harry. “I don’t want you to go,” she mutters against his lips when she feels him begin to pull away.

“I’ll see you Monday,” he promises. 

“Too far.

Harry laughs, “you can call me tomorrow when you wake up.” Knowing she likes to sleep in, he would rather not wake her up. 

“Okay,” she whispers in defeat. 

“Good night,” Harry takes a step back. 

Y/N bites her lip and gives him a wave. “Do you want a kiss goodbye?” 

Harry can’t say no.

+

Monday morning, Y/N walks in with a large smile. It makes everyone stop and stare. She makes her rounds, wishing everyone a good morning, and saves Harry for last. 

“Hi, Harry.” She chirps. 

“Morning,” he answers timidly. 

Y/N pouts because he didn’t even look at her. She wanted to see his beautiful eyes. “So I was thinking…” she trails off. 

Harry turns, giving her his undivided attention, and Y/N’s smile widens. “How does a date sound to you?”

“A date?” He echoes. 

“With me,” she giggles.

“Best thing I've heard all day.”

Y/N claps her hands together, “wonderful.” 

“How does this weekend sound?” 

“Too far,” she teases. “Saturday?” 

“I’ll pick you up,” he promises. 

“Good. Good.” Y/N lingers by his door. 

“Yes, love?” 

Y/N feels her cheeks heat up but doesn’t look away from him. “Are we still on for lunch?” 

Harry gives her a dimpled grin, “I’ve got a new book for us to discuss.” 

Y/N tells him she can’t wait and walks away. Harry watches her go, and as if she can feel his stare on her, she turns around and gives him a wink. Harry knows he’s way in over his head with someone as amazing as Y/N, but he can’t wait to prove each day to her how much he deserves to be with her.

[edenesth]

TWTHH Spinoff: Stitched Hearts [1]

Pairing: dressmaker!Hongjoong x noblewoman!reader

AU: historical au (Joseon era)

Word Count: 6.5k

Summary: Throughout his entire career, Hongjoong has received nothing but praise for his work. Never once had anyone suggested his dresses were anything short of perfection. That is, until he met the youngest daughter of the Baek household—the family's black sheep, an enigmatic spinster whom he found utterly confounding.

A/N: As stated in the title, this is a spinoff. If you have yet to check out the main story, it's probably better to read that before starting this.

Main Story | Spinoff Masterlist | Part 2

"Father, mother, we're back!" called out Haeun, your eldest sister who had been married for years now, returning home with her husband and children to celebrate the birth of your middle brother's first child.

"You're home, our dear daughter!" Your parents enthusiastically rose from their seats to greet her, showering her with praise for leading such a successful life, whatever that meant; it was a concept you still struggled to comprehend to this day.

After exchanging pleasantries with your parents, she made a beeline for your brother, completely disregarding your timid presence in the corner of the room, "Hajoon-ah, congratulations, my brother! It's high time you joined the parent club!"

Your brother-in-law, displaying a touch more consideration than his wife, offered you a warm smile before joining 'the adults' in conversation, leaving you to quietly observe your nieces and nephews playing joyfully in the courtyard. At times, you were envious of the simplicity of children's lives—so carefree, with no expectations weighing them down. Unlike them, you felt constantly burdened by the expectations placed upon you.

This had been the pattern for as long as you could recall—living in the shadows of your successful sister and brother, both excelling in nearly every aspect of life. Haeun, intelligent and outgoing, had swiftly found a suitable match upon reaching marriageable age, becoming the epitome of a perfect daughter in your parents' eyes. Hajoon wasn't far behind, securing a position in the local government and dutifully marrying the girl your parents had chosen for him.

And then there was you.

The black sheep of the Baek household, the peculiar one, always kept to yourself, showing little interest in feminine pursuits such as cooking, gardening, embroidering, or any similar activities. Your days were spent predominantly at home, frequenting your father's extensive library and immersing yourself in the countless storybooks it housed, often seeking solace in the realms of fantasy they offered. Your lack of enthusiasm for conventional interests rendered you an enigma even to your parents.

You maintained scant friendships, lacking any love interests or potential marriage prospects. Unlike other young women, you harboured no desire to adorn yourself or enhance your appearance; you appeared strangely content in your plain white hanboks and minimal hair accessories. Your demeanour led most people to forget the existence of a third daughter in the Baek family altogether. Those who did recall you were hesitant to consider you as a potential match for their sons, and the young men themselves showed no interest.

While your parents had initially held onto hope that you would eventually find your own path to settling down, their concerns began to mount as you surpassed the ideal age for marriage. Beyond mere age considerations, most young women your age were already married with children, leaving you perpetually single.

Though you concealed it well, you weren't oblivious to the whispers and rumours circulating about you already being labelled a spinster. The servants of your family estate often used you as a topic for gossip and entertainment, speculating whether you would ever find a spouse and placing bets on your marital prospects.

Finally deciding to acknowledge your presence, Haeun heaved a sigh before addressing you, "And how have you been, maknae? Will I be hearing news of you getting hitched any time soon?"

Glancing at her, you simply shrugged and shook your head, "Same old, unnie. And no, I don't think you will."

Hajoon frowned in resignation at your customary bluntness, "With that attitude, definitely not. Do you even have any intention of settling down? What are your plans for the future, hm? Are you going to keep causing our parents to worry like this?"

Your mother shook her head, silently urging him to be gentler with you, a twinge of sympathy stirring within her. In your younger years, her favouritism was evident in the way she showered attention primarily to your sister and brother, especially since your father was often away for work. While your siblings made efforts to bond with him during his brief returns, you showed little interest. Consequently, your relationship with your parents wasn't as close-knit as theirs.

It wasn't until Haeun had married and left home that your mother attempted to show you some affection, though by then, it seemed too late to truly connect with you. Despite her earnest efforts, she struggled to understand you. The rest of the family faced similar difficulties. You remained a mystery to everyone, always lost in your own world.

For once, instead of reacting with anger or responding passive-aggressively out of frustration, your sister nodded slowly, as if making a concerted effort to remain patient with you. Despite her occasional harshness towards you, she hadn't always been unkind. As your only elder sister, she had tried to foster a bond with you throughout your childhood, but your reserved nature made it difficult, and your straightforwardness often unintentionally wounded her.

Deep down, she harboured a hope that her harshness might somehow elicit some sort of response from you. But by now, she had come to realise its futility, as you consistently maintained an unbothered demeanour, regardless of what others would say or do to you. Ultimately, she grew tired of attempting to decipher your mind and heart. The same goes for your brother.

However, despite their frustrations, you were still their youngest sibling, and they sincerely hoped that you would one day settle down, have someone care for you, and perhaps start a family of your own.

"I think I know what might help," Haeun began, capturing everyone's attention before continuing, "I've heard about a renowned dressmaker in town who has worked wonders for countless women. If I'm not mistaken, his craftsmanship has even garnered recognition from the King and Queen. I was just thinking... maybe all our youngest needs is just a little makeover?"

Your father's eyes widened in astonishment, "His work is recognised even by His and Her Majesty, you say?"

Haeun nodded enthusiastically, "Yes, father! I couldn't believe it myself, but it's true. He's the mastermind behind Lady Park's stunning white and gold wedding hanbok!"

"He must be truly exceptional! Well, then, it seems worth a try. Perhaps this is just what our youngest needs to catch the eye of a potential suitor," your mother chimed in, her gaze hopeful as she turned to you, "Are you on board with the idea, dear?"

All eyes swivelled to you, and you once again felt yourself shrinking under their scrutiny—this familiar sensation of never being enough for them. The truth was evident: they were all tired of you. You had been a disappointment your entire life. If all they desired was for you to marry and depart from the household, perhaps it would be best to acquiesce to their wishes. It wouldn't hurt to entertain their request.

With another indifferent shrug, you replied, "Sure, if that's what everyone wants. After all, I don't have much to lose."

For the first time in forever, your family's faces lit up with smiles because of you, cheered by your response. As you retreated to your quarters that night, your sister eagerly taking charge of contacting the renowned dressmaker they had discussed, you pondered whether their enthusiasm stemmed from a desire to see you gone.

In truth, your parents' neglect and blatant favouritism toward your siblings over you during your childhood had moulded you into someone who wore indifference as armour, a coping mechanism to shield yourself from the constant sadness you felt. The weight of constantly letting everyone down had driven you to suppress your emotions, opting instead to feign apathy. Eventually, this façade became your reality; it felt safer to shut yourself off from feeling anything at all.

As you attempted to drift off to sleep that night, thoughts of the acclaimed dressmaker they had been praising occupied your mind. You couldn't help but entertain the idea that, like everyone else, he too would eventually grow weary of you. Surely, upon seeing you, he would deem you a lost cause.

Heh, at least he'll be paid to deal with me.

"Thanks a bunch, hyung. I promise I'll treat you to the finest meal once this is over!" Wooyoung exclaimed, hugging the disguise crafted by the dressmaker at the eleventh hour for his latest case—more like a mission to play knight in shining armour, one that might finally win him the affections of a girl, unlike the silly crush he harboured for Lady Park, leading absolutely nowhere.

With a shake of his head, Hongjoong gave the younger man's shoulder a reassuring pat, "Yeah, you better. Off you go then, you don't want to keep her waiting a moment longer now, do you?"

"Yes, sir!" The private investigator saluted playfully before setting off in pursuit of his new dream girl.

Once he was out of sight, the dressmaker returned to his shop, settling comfortably back into his seat, ready to resume work on his latest batch of orders. His fingers moved with practised ease, guided by the rough design sketch before him. A faint smile lingered on his lips as he worked, a swell of pride warming his chest at his friend's development. It wasn't just Wooyoung; everyone had left the general's estate weeks ago, returning to their own lives. While part of him missed the chaos of their shared moments, he was content to give the newlyweds their well-deserved privacy.

Still chuckling to himself, he reflected on the fact that the once-intimidating Park Seonghwa was now but a lovesick fool. He had once worried about the general's prospects for finding love, but now he realised it had been a needless concern. Who would have thought that General Park would find love before him, or even before the ever-charming Jung Yunho?

As he put the final touches on one of his dresses, he couldn't help but wonder how the couple was doing. It had been weeks since he last saw them, and he shook his head when he recalled how 'excited' his friend had been, even when he was injured. Now that they had all the time in the world together, he imagined Seonghwa would struggle to keep his hands off his wife. He pondered whether he would soon hear news of a new addition to their family.

Before he could become further engrossed in his thoughts, his sharp senses alerted him to the presence of a man and a woman entering his shop. Without hesitation, he plastered on his best business smile—a façade rarely seen by his friends, perhaps except for Lady Park. It was part of his practised persona, an outwardly amiable demeanour he employed to win over customers and potential clients, doing whatever was necessary to secure their business. This isn't to say he wasn't genuinely pleased, but his true passion lay in designing and dressmaking rather than customer service. Unfortunately, the latter was an essential aspect of his job.

Hongjoong had never been naturally a people person, but as he had previously made it clear to the general, he was reluctant to hire assistance for such a simple task. So here he was, stuck with doing his least favourite part of the job: greeting customers.

"Good day, sir and ma'am! Welcome to Kim's Dress Shop. May I inquire what you are searching for today? A hanbok for a special occasion, perhaps? That happens to be one of my specialities. However, if you're seeking an upgrade in everyday attire, I also offer a selection of simpler yet elegant designs," he recited, sticking to his customary script upon each patron's arrival.

The couple glanced around in amazement before eagerly beaming at him. The woman spoke, "Um, are you the renowned dressmaker Kim who crafted Lady Park's famous wedding gown?"

Grinning proudly, the dressmaker was pleased to once again be acknowledged for his recent accomplishments, "Indeed, that would be me," he confirmed. He couldn't deny that his orders had doubled since news of the iconic hanbok he had designed for his friend's wedding had spread. Perhaps he owed Seonghwa a debt of gratitude for hiring him. Without him, Hongjoong might not have achieved the level of success he enjoys today.

Stepping forward, the woman bowed respectfully, "It's truly an honour to meet you, Mr. Kim! You see, we are interested in engaging your services, but it's not for myself—it's for my younger sister."

"Oh? Will she be coming by soon for me to take her measurements and discuss her design preferences?" he inquired, surprised that the intended recipient of his hanboks was not present.

Shaking her head sheepishly, she clarified, "Unfortunately not. Forgive me for not starting with a self-introduction. Good day, Mr. Kim. I am the eldest daughter of the Baek household, and I'm here on behalf of our youngest."

Upon hearing this, Hongjoong immediately grasped the situation. Having worked extensively with noblewomen, he was well-versed in local gossip about nearby noble families. He had heard of the mysterious third daughter of Official Baek from the local Civilian Office, who rarely ventured outside her home—a well-known wallflower who, if he wasn't mistaken, remained unmarried despite being well past the ideal marriageable age.

With a nod, he smiled warmly, "Ah, Miss Baek! Or should I say, Mrs. Heo," the dressmaker corrected with a grin directed at the man beside her, presumably her husband, "It would be my pleasure to create hanboks for the youngest miss of such a prominent family. I assume that means I will need to visit the Baek estate to meet her."

The couple nodded with a slight grimace, "Yes, I'm sure you're aware of her reputation. Whatever rumours you may have heard are true. She remains single, and our entire family is deeply concerned for her. We've heard of the wonderful work you've done for others, and we were hopeful you could work your magic on her. My sister has always been a unique individual. I apologise for the inconvenience of asking you to leave your shop just for her. However, I assure you we will compensate you for any inconvenience."

As he listened to her plea, the dressmaker's mind raced with excitement. That was because no challenge was too daunting for him; he thrived on the opportunity to showcase his talent. The woman was right in what she said; he had indeed helped numerous single young women find matches after they had worn his designs.

This time would be no different.

What truly fueled his enthusiasm was the knowledge that the youngest Miss Baek was known to repel potential suitors, making her a particularly challenging case. If he could help her in finding a match, it would undoubtedly bolster his reputation, adding another significant achievement to his already impressive portfolio.

Moreover, the Baeks were one of the wealthiest noble families in the area. It would be foolish not to accept this job, even if it meant temporarily closing his shop more frequently to visit their estate. He was certain that the compensation he would receive for his services would more than make up for any inconvenience.

With a feigned understanding expression, he nodded, "Oh, please don't worry about it, Mrs. Heo. Nothing brings me greater joy than helping young women gain confidence and find love. Miss Baek clearly needs my assistance. If it means I can help one more woman escape singledom, any inconvenience will be worth it."

The couple cooed at his kindness, profusely thanking him for his selflessness, while he celebrated internally, eager for the opportunity to make that buck. Reassuringly, he welcomed them into his shop, offering them seats and some tea as they made the necessary arrangements for the special job: determining which days he would need to close his shop and visit the Baek estate as well as negotiating the payment. Fortunately for him, they had even provided a down payment to demonstrate their sincerity.

After a lengthy discussion that may or may not have interfered with his current orders, Hongjoong happily bid the couple goodbye. He couldn't care less about any disruptions; his pockets were full, and he was content. With the success of the business that Seonghwa had brought him, he was sure that this would be his next most satisfying endeavour. As he watched the couple leave, a sense of anticipation washed over him, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"Thank you, Miss Baek, for this wonderful opportunity. I'm certain we'll get along just fine, you and I. Gosh, I just love it when rich people are gullible, and money is easy to make," he muttered to himself, brimming with excitement for what lay ahead.

Oh, I'm going to have the time of my life.

Perhaps the dressmaker might have spoken too soon, been a tad overconfident in his abilities, and underestimated the true enigmatic nature of the youngest Miss Baek. He would soon discover this the hard way during his very first visit to the family's estate, which was nearly as large as the general's, albeit slightly smaller.

He remained confident and pleased as he was warmly welcomed, not only by the couple he had met at his shop the other day, but also by Official Baek and his wife, Lady Baek, along with their middle son and his new wife—everyone except for the one he was hired to make clothes for. The youngest Miss Baek was nowhere to be seen.

Nevertheless, he refused to let it dampen his spirits. If anything, it only heightened his curiosity about you. He was eager to finally lay eyes on the girl whom so many noble families and men tried to avoid.

The more your family emphasised how hopeless you were and expressed their concern about you remaining a spinster, the more determined he became. His fingers were itching to work another miracle. No ugly duckling could remain ugly forever, especially not if he could help it.

"We're terribly sorry our youngest is not here to greet you, Mr. Kim! We specifically informed her that you would be arriving by this time. She must still be holed up in her father's library. We'll fetch her immediately!" Lady Baek exclaimed, her urgency and embarrassment evident in her tone.

Hongjoong shook his head, waving his hands to signal that it was fine, despite feeling a slight disbelief at your apparent disregard for his presence. He tried his best to play the role of a considerate man, reminding himself that it was your family who wanted him here, not you. He tried to be understanding of how you might be feeling, "It's quite alright. Perhaps I could go meet her in the library if she doesn't want to come outside."

"Oh, is that really alright? You've come all this way, Mr. Kim. The least she could do now is come to you and make your job easier," Official Baek remarked with a slight wince.

"I assure you, it's perfectly fine. My task today is simply to take Miss Baek's measurements and discuss her design preferences. For that to happen smoothly, it's important she feels comfortable. Conducting it in her own space might be the best approach for all of us," he responded.

Your brother nodded, "If you insist, Mr. Kim. We'll have the maids escort you there. Let us know if there's anything you need."

Hongjoong bowed, "Thank you, sir. I will."

"We entrust her to you, Mr. Kim," said your sister, her hands clasped together to show her gratitude and hopefulness.

"Please do not worry, Mrs. Heo. I have a feeling Miss Baek will find love in no time."

"We're counting on it."

As a few maids escorted him towards the library as instructed, the dressmaker's mind buzzed with speculative thoughts. Considering all the talk about Miss Baek's perpetual singleness, he couldn't help but imagine you to be hideous. If that were indeed the case, he surmised it might stem from low self-esteem.

Throughout his career, he has developed a knack for identifying his customers' underlying issues. Just as he had done with Seonghwa's wife, he could often discern precisely what they needed, whether it be a boost in confidence or a transformation in appearance. He was almost certain he'd be able to figure you out in an instant.

Upon arriving at the destination, one of the maids spoke up, "We're here, Mr. Kim. You should be able to find the young miss somewhere inside. Just call out to any of us if you require anything at all."

Hongjoong nodded, expressing his gratitude, "Of course, thank you," he replied before heading inside. His heart quickened for some reason as he stepped into the room, uncertain of what to expect.

Taking a cautious step after gently closing the door behind him, he called out softly, as if afraid of disturbing the tranquil atmosphere of the silent and peaceful library, "Miss Baek...? Sorry for the intrusion, but this is Kim Hongjoong, the dressmaker your family hired to provide you with a new wardrobe. If you would be so kind as to come out, we could proceed with the initial stages of the dressmaking process for you."

Releasing a small sigh at the continued silence, he called out again, "Miss Baek...? If you won't respond, I'll have to enter."

While he understood your potential shyness, he struggled to contain his displeasure at what felt like disrespect towards him. After all, he had made the effort to come all this way and even prioritised your comfort. Yet here you were, still playing hard to get.

"Very well, don't say I didn't warn you."

With that, he began to make his way down the aisle, scanning the spacious room from left to right in search of you. It was only when he was about to pass by a hunched figure between the rows of tall bookshelves that he halted, doing a double take before fixing his gaze squarely on your form. There you were, seated on the ground, completely absorbed in the book you held in your hands.

Whatever he had anticipated, you were none of that. The girl in front of him was nothing like what he had imagined. Bathed in the sunlight streaming through the open window, your delicate and refined features were illuminated, accentuating your natural beauty. In that moment, you appeared almost ethereal. With such looks, finding a match shouldn't be a challenge at all.

Huh, guess I was wrong about her looks.

Yet, it wasn't your appearance that posed the issue. He had expected as much, considering the attractiveness of your family members. However, he could understand why you were often overlooked. The problem lay not in your physical attributes, but rather in that god-awful attire you chose to wear – a plain, white hanbok devoid of any embellishments. Furthermore, you seemed to lack hair accessories and makeup. He dared say that even some of the maids had put more effort into their appearance than you had.

Goodness gracious, you looked like a prisoner in that outfit. In his opinion, you ought to be arrested for donning such a monstrosity. Perhaps you weren't aware yet, but today you would be encountering the fashion police, and he was not pleased with what he saw. It was evident to him that you were in dire need of his assistance.

Kim Hongjoong was here now, and he intended to effect swift change. By the end of his makeover, he was confident you would be fit to enter even a beauty pageant.

"Hello, Miss Baek," he greeted, finally drawing your attention as you glanced up to see him approaching.

"Oh, you're here. Mr. Kim, right?" you responded, acknowledging him with a nod. Folding the edge of the page as a makeshift bookmark, you carefully slid the book back into its place on the shelf before rising from your spot on the ground.

The dressmaker's grip tightened around his bag of tools, a hint of displeasure flickering behind his façade of a smile, "Yes, that's correct, my lady. It's a pleasure to finally meet you. I've heard much about you," he attempted to charm you, a tactic that typically worked wonders with his clientele, eliciting blushes and smiles. However, his heart sank as you remained unfazed.

"Did you really? I can't imagine it's anything favourable," you murmured, turning to face him squarely, "And there's no need for pretence. I highly doubt there's anything pleasurable about meeting me. I prefer unvarnished truths to false pleasantries."

What in the world.

Taken aback by your bluntness, he paused briefly to compose himself before clearing his throat, "Ah, I see... If you insist, Miss Baek, I won't sugarcoat my thoughts on your choice of attire. Your family has expressed concerns about your ability to attract suitors, and I can see why. It's pretty clear to me that you struggle with dressing in a way that appeals to others but fear not. I'm here now, and I'll help you enhance your style."

Just when he thought you couldn't possibly surprise him any further, you shrugged in disagreement, "I don't believe I'm struggling at all. I know exactly what I like, and this is it," you gestured to your hanbok, "It's not my fault nobody shares the same opinion."

Baffled by your words, he finally grasped the true extent of your problem. Yes, your fashion style was the main issue, but more crucially, it was your entire character. Throughout his life, the dressmaker had encountered his fair share of eccentric individuals, but you seemed to easily surpass them all in peculiarity.

Your blunt honesty was one thing, but it was your overall lack of emotion or ability to read social cues that truly puzzled him. Perhaps it was simply your indifference. Regardless, one thing became abundantly clear to him: he did not like you. Despite having only just met you, he eagerly anticipated the moment he could leave your presence.

Lord help me, I cannot stand her already.

Blinking rapidly, he struggled to maintain the smile on his face as he responded stiffly, "I... I understand, Miss Baek. Perhaps that's your belief for now. However, I'm confident you'll change your mind once you see my designs. They never disappoint. I've never had a dissatisfied customer, and I fully intend to keep it that way."

Not wanting to dwell on your comments, he quickly clapped his hands together and continued, "Now, without further ado, let's proceed with taking your measurements."

Forget discussing your preferences, you had made your stance clear. But Hongjoong remained determined to impress you with his work. He was eager to unveil his best design, he couldn't wait to see the look on your face when you would realise how stupid you were to prefer prison clothes over his hanboks.

Retrieving his measuring tape and notebook from his bag, he turned to you, making an effort to conceal any hint of displeasure on his face as he approached, "Stay still, my lady. This will only take a moment," he instructed, beginning with your shoulders before proceeding to measure your height, sleeve length, and neck size. His breath caught and his hands trembled as he reached the final step, assessing your waist and chest measurements.

While he typically performed these tasks with ease, it was usually in the familiar surroundings of his shop, with others present. Now, it was just the two of you in the expansive, quiet library. For some reason, the atmosphere felt almost... intimate.

Focus, Kim Hongjoong!

Suppressing the sudden spike of his heartbeat, he maintained a composed expression and directed, "Please raise your arms, my lady. I'll need to measure your chest and waist next."

Flustered, he attributed the fluttering of his heart to the persistent, unabashed curiosity in your gaze throughout the measurement process. That must be it, he reasoned. You didn't possess goddess-like beauty, nor were you sweet as an angel. There was no other reason for him to react that way than sheer embarrassment under your scrutiny.

Little did he know, you experienced similar, if not more intense, emotions than he did. But who could blame you, really? It was the first time a man had ever been in such close proximity to you. The only difference between you was your adeptness at concealing your feelings, contrasting with the subtle shifts in his demeanour and the slight tremor in his hands, which did not evade your perceptive gaze.

He was merely a man, after all. You supposed it was only natural for him to exhibit such reactions in the presence of a woman.

But that didn't mean much.

You could tell he disliked you, a sentiment you had grown used to. Like everyone else you met, it seemed no one genuinely liked you. Your family's acceptance stemmed from obligation, your servants' compliance from their employment, and Hongjoong's engagement from his professional duty. Once that was done, you were certain you would never see him again. Armed with this notion, you maintained your stoic façade.

"Very well, Miss Baek. Thank you for your cooperation. I'll return when the first batch of your hanboks is ready," the dressmaker stated, swiftly gathering his belongings and offering one final bow before hurrying out of the library, pink tinting his cheeks.

"Goodbye, Mr. Kim."

Back at his shop that evening, he struggled to focus on his work. His thoughts kept wandering back to the moment your faces were inches apart, when he had to briefly encircle his arms around your waist to take measurements. Despite the unattractive hanbok you wore, he couldn't deny that you smelled quite pleasant. At the very least, you had good hygiene, he had to give you that.

Get a grip, you fool!

Giving himself a sharp slap on the cheek, he shook off the distraction. He reminded himself of the sheer frustration of being around you. From your perplexing bluntness to your questionable taste in fashion, it was enough to raise his blood pressure. How could someone like you even exist? He realised now that he had vastly underestimated your peculiar nature. Once confident he could see through anyone, he was beginning to have second thoughts.

Nevertheless, one thing remained certain: you would surely admire the designs he had in store for you. His work had always been his stronghold, never failing to impress. If even royalty had been impressed, why wouldn't a mere noblewoman like yourself? You claimed to dislike fashion, but that was only because you hadn't seen his masterpieces, he was sure of it.

No one, no one could ever resist his work.

Determined to swiftly overcome this minor obstacle, he reassured himself that you were just a small hurdle on the path to another remarkable achievement. In the end, when you were basking in the glory of the century's most sensational makeover, all the effort would be worthwhile. He could not wait for you to shed tears of gratitude, thanking him for opening your eyes to the true essence of beauty. With that conviction, he delved into his work, flipping through his sketchbook until he reached the section reserved for his finest designs, carefully curated for an occasion like this.

Pausing at one of his personal favorites, a masterpiece he had been saving for a worthy client, he decided that now was the perfect opportunity to bring it to life.

Oh, you were sure to adore it.

You had to.

But he should have known better than to actually believe that. He was, once again, in for a surprise a few days later when he arrived at the Baek estate with the first hanbok done. Only once he had your green light would he be able to proceed with making more for you. As the maids escorted him to your quarters, they noted his bright demeanour; you had risen late today and were still having breakfast in solitude, "You seem quite cheerful today, Mr. Kim," one remarked, arching an eyebrow.

He smirked confidently, "Indeed, I am. Your young miss will be very impressed with what she is about to see today. With this makeover, she'll surely catch the eye of potential suitors in no time."

The maid hesitated, cautioning, "I'm not sure you should be so certain. The young miss isn't like any other girl you've worked with."

"Ah, I know, but my work speaks for itself," he retorted, "She'd be silly not to like it."

"If you say so, sir," the maid replied, her tone conceding defeat. She knew better than to doubt his skill, but she also understood that you were unlike any other. He would soon discover that firsthand, and she was almost certain he wouldn't leave the estate with the same confidence he arrived with.

"Well, what do you think?" inquired the dressmaker, proudly unveiling his newest masterpiece to his latest customer.

Eyeing the elegantly colourful hanbok, which was a departure from your usual plain white ones, your gaze remained impassive. After what seemed like an eternity, you responded with a slight furrow of your brows, "It uhh... it looks nice, I suppose."

As you watched Hongjoong's reaction falter momentarily, it appeared as though he was experiencing a million emotions per second before settling on a deeply offended expression. With an audible scoff, he clenched his jaw, "Nice, you say? Just... nice? You suppose? Miss Baek, that is utterly outrageous! Throughout my career, I've only ever been praised for delivering perfection."

You stayed silent as he continued to extol his successes, boasting about being the best dressmaker in all of Joseon and citing his most illustrious achievements, such as the wedding dress he crafted for Lady Park, which even impressed Their Majesties. It dawned on you that your simple response had deeply wounded him.

"I-I mean... it's not bad," you interjected, hoping to fix the damage, but your heart sank as he only glared at you, "Not bad...? I'm sorry, was that supposed to console me?" he chuckled incredulously, "You know what? Now I understand why you're still single. At this rate, you'll never find a husband."

Ouch.

The awkward silence that followed was deafening, causing the maids who were waiting in your room to quickly shuffle closer to you, noticing you had finished your meal, "Young miss, we'll just be clearing this up and excusing ourselves."

"Thank you." You nodded curtly, watching emotionlessly as they hastily picked up the table containing the empty plates and bowls and left with a deep bow. Meanwhile, the dressmaker remained in his spot, visibly heaving deep breaths as if trying to calm himself from the outburst, before carefully setting the hanbok down.

After you were left alone, he took a deep breath before apologising, "Gosh, I— I'm so sorry, Miss Baek. That was uncalled for, I—"

Shaking your head, you cut him off, "No, please don't be. You were merely telling the truth. As I've said, I prefer unvarnished truth to false pleasantries. In fact, I believe you are right about that. You are not the first to say that, and you certainly won't be the last."

As he absorbed your words, a wave of discomfort washed over Hongjoong. For some reason, he would have preferred if you had yelled at him or thrown a tantrum rather than accepting his insults like that. Surely, it couldn't feel pleasant to hear such remarks, no matter how unaffected you made yourself appear. It made him feel terrible, and he hated it — hated the guilt that filled him for uttering such words.

Clearing his throat, he sighed, "I... my lady, please don't say that. It's just that... I really need your approval before I make more of these for you. At the end of the day, you are the one who has to wear them." His voice softened, an attempt to make up for his earlier harshness.

You detected the familiar pity in his tone, and you despised it. Raising a brow, you shrugged, "Why does my approval matter? It's my family who's paying you, not me. You owe it to them to make me look perfect, whatever that means. I've made it clear what I like, and if it's not to yours or anyone's taste, so be it. I see no point in consulting me on your designs, Mr. Kim. Just do what you're hired for; it doesn't matter what I like."

It never has.

While that should have brought relief to the dressmaker, knowing he had the freedom to pursue his vision without worrying about your approval, something about your words left him feeling... melancholic. It struck a chord within him, reminding him of his own struggles when he initially embarked on his fashion career. At that time, it was met with disapproval from society, which deemed it an unfitting profession for a man. Despite the opposition, he chose to be himself.

However, seeing you succumb to societal expectations, suppressing your true self to please others, including him, stirred a sense of empathy within him. It mirrored his own past battles with conformity. Unlike him, you were forced to adhere to societal norms, sacrificing your individuality for the sake of others' expectations.

And he didn't like that.

But what he hated even more was how you managed to evoke emotions he hadn't signed up for. Despite his efforts to push thoughts of you aside and concentrate solely on his goal—to craft the finest hanboks in all of Joseon and transform you into a vision of beauty, one you did not desire—the memory of your somewhat disheartening expression, as you dismissed the importance of your preferences, lingered in his mind. It unsettled him, he hated the way it was causing an uncomfortable tightening in his chest.

« Preview of Part 2 »

"I'm telling you, Yunho, she's infuriating!"

The physician, busy tidying his clinic counter, rolled his eyes, "How could I not know, hyung? You've been talking about her since my lunch break. We're almost at closing time; are you finished?"

Hongjoong crossed his arms, scoffing, "What, do you have somewhere else to be? Don't think I haven't noticed you've been going to that apothecary more often lately."

Yunho stilled, a faint pink dusting across his cheeks as he cleared his throat, "What do you mean? I've always gone there for herbs."

"Yes, but not as frequently as you do now. Ever since you met a certain herbalist," Hongjoong teased, wiggling his brows.

"If you have nothing important to say, please leave," the physician grumbled, tired of the older man's rambling.

Uncrossing his arms, the dressmaker said, "W-wait! Look, you're the most rational one among us. I just... wanted to know your thoughts on the matter."

Sighing, Yunho softened, "You know, she's right. You're hired by her family, your job is simple, and you know what you have to do. The only reason you're so affected by this is probably because you care."

"I do not care about her—"

"Sure, if you say so. Then go on ahead and complete your job. You'll receive your payment and all the benefits that come with it anyway. So, what's really bothering you?"

Oh my gosh, thank you so much for 1.6k followers! Same as Wooyoung's spinoff, the next part will be the second and final part. I've decided to standardise the format, so all the spinoffs will be two-shots.

As always, thank you for reading and let me know your thoughts! <3

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All Rights Reserved © edenesth // DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE, PLAGIARISE OR REPURPOSE.

[healinghyunjin]

Blossom

Pairing: Kim Seungmin x Reader (fem)

Genre: crack, smut, fluff; historical!AU, magic!AU, fuck-or-die(ish)!AU, enemies(ish)-to-lovers!AU, 18+

Word Count: 6.5k

Warnings: swearing, explicit sexual content, unprotected sex, outdated sexual norms/attitudes, public sex.

Author’s Note: After another ~long~ hiatus... I'm back! The premise of this fic is heavily inspired by a super old, now deleted AO3 fic I once read for a now dead fandom (showing my age here for you children lol). I love navigating these forced interaction scenarios - so please let me know your thoughts! Feedback and reblogs are love as always - and I now have a Ko-Fi that I would really appreciate contributions to as well (linked in my Bio)! Thank you for your support~

Summary: But what this ritual required of you, the High Sorceress, was not just some spellwork or incantations - no, this ritual involved you losing your virginity. To your King - to Seungmin. On the High Table. In front of the entirety of the royal court. 

You were sure you looked like a thundercloud - dark skirts swirling, white sparks crackling from your fingertips - as you stalked through the castle towards the royal chambers.

“Milady!” Changbin chased after you, your long-suffering knight trying his best to head you off. “His Majesty is in a council meeting right now,” he huffed out. “Maybe we can seek an audience another time?”

“I don’t ‘seek audiences’ from His Majesty, Bin,” the title grating in your mouth. “I talk to Kim Seungmin when I want to talk to Kim Seungmin - especially when he wants to pretend like I don’t exist.” 

You were laying it on a bit thick. But you were the High Sorceress. You had no insignificant amount of pride yourself, and nothing made your temper flare like Seungmin outmaneuvering you - exactly like he’d just done. 

You arrived at the heavy wrought iron doors of Seungmin’s private chambers and, with a swish of your palm, sent the doors flying open, almost rattling off their hinges. A tableful of lords turned around to gawk at you - but you only had eyes for the man at the head of the table. He leaned back in his chair, watching you stalk into the room with a barely concealed grin. “And there she is.” The faint note of humor in Seungmin’s voice made you want to wring his neck.

“Your Majesty,” you greeted in the frostiest voice you could muster up. 

Seungmin smirked. “You only use my proper title when you’re fit to rip my throat out, Lady Sorceress.” 

You ignored the barb. “We have an urgent matter to discuss, my lord.”

One of the old, stodgy lords piped up in a reedy, disapproving voice. “What can take precedence over matters of council and state, Sorceress?”

“Matters of national security, Lord Park.” Seungmin rose to his feet, making everyone else jump up to theirs as well. “Council is adjourned, my lords.”

You held your head high as the councilmen streamed out of the room around you, some barely bothering to disguise their resentment. Seungmin sauntered his way around the table, coming to stand right in front of you. You scowled as you inevitably had to tilt your head back just to look into his amused face. 

“You’ve been avoiding me, my witch.” 

“I wasn’t avoiding you,” you snapped back, cringing at how petulant you sounded even to your own ears. 

Of course you’d been avoiding him. Ever since he’d slapped those scrolls down on your worktable a week ago now, you hadn’t been able to think about him without flushing, let alone be in the same room as him. It would be for the good of the people, he’d announced crisply, looking so tall and prim and regal as he towered over you sitting on your little garden stool. I’m sure you won’t see any harm in it. You’d scanned through the parchment, ignoring the scribe’s careful translations to parse the ancient runes yourself. It outlined an ancient magical ritual to replenish the barrier wards for your nation if they ever fell - which they had. But what this ritual required of you, the High Sorceress, was not just some spellwork or incantations - no, this ritual involved you losing your virginity. To your King - to Seungmin. On the High Table. In front of the entirety of the royal court. 

Seungmin snapped you out of your thoughts with a brief “Ahem,” quirking a skeptical eyebrow at you. “I haven’t seen you in a week. Every time I’ve gone to your rooms since the day I gave you those scrolls, you’re conveniently ‘not there,’ and that poor fool,” he flicked a thumb over to point at Changbin, “is stuck trying - and failing - to make excuses for you.”

You shot a glare over at Changbin - he didn’t look sufficiently embarrassed of himself, but you would deal with that later. “Well, I’m here now, my lord. And I’d appreciate it if you could tell me how you unilaterally decided to add ‘Publicly Deflowering the High Witch’ to your agenda for this evening?”

You’d hoped to embarrass Seungmin, browbeat him - like you’d clearly done to Changbin, judging from the choking sound that came from next to you. But you’d underestimated your enemy. 

Seungmin sighed, clasping his arms behind his back. “Because we don’t have a choice in the matter, my dear witch. If you’d allowed me the chance to actually talk to you this week, I could have convinced you of that, and you'd have had time to prepare yourself. But - you didn’t, and so, I had to force your hand.” You shuffled uncomfortably under his piercing stare as he continued. “I know you translated the runes yourself - you know just as well as I do that this ritual needs to be done soon. Now, if we don’t want the Eastern Army taking advantage and invading us as soon as they muster up the forces. But unlike you, my lady - I don’t have the luxury to pretend like this problem will go away if I ignore it.” 

And that was exactly what you hated most about Kim Seungmin. He was smart and logical to a fault - enough so that he’d trained himself to not let pesky emotions get in the way of doing what needed to be done. You on the other hand… the less said the better on that front. 

Before you could snark something back at him or even just bristle up, Seungmin stepped away from you, rubbing his hands together. “Now that that’s been settled, I’m sure you have no more objections. Anyways, you have a busy afternoon ahead of you, Lady Sorceress. I’ve sent several maids to your chambers to help ready you for this evening - I’m sure you remember how exact the runes were in terms of preparation.” Seungmin wasn’t even bothering to hide his grin as he dismissed you with a wave of his hand, striding out of the room. 

That patronizing bastard. You briefly contemplated throwing a fireball at his laughing back - but being executed for treason wasn’t exactly the way you intended to go out. 

With a deep, soul-weary sigh, you turned on your heel to leave, resigning yourself to your fate. 

Of course, if you knew exactly how the rest of your afternoon was going to be spent, you might just have thrown that fireball at Seungmin and gotten it over with. 

After that useless showdown, Changbin frogmarched you back to your rooms, handing you off to an actually intimidating keeper - Chaeryeong, your personal maid. But, to your even greater chagrin, she wasn’t alone. As promised, an army of maids descended on you, all charged with different vicious tasks - stripping your skin bare and smooth with hot sugar paste; kneading various herbal, floral unguents into your skin before dunking you into cold and hot baths; brushing your hair out until it fairly gleamed in the fading sunlight. By the time you were passed off to Chaeryeong for her final inspection, you almost didn’t recognize yourself in the mirror. 

Chaeryeong clicked her tongue approvingly as she walked around you, tightening the laces on your virginal white chemise. “You finally look presentable, milady.”

You bristled. “Are you saying I usually don’t?”

“Last week I had to pull a twig out of your hair before sending you down to supper. There isn’t a single dress of yours that doesn’t have mudstains, milady, and you think a splash of cold water every morning or two is enough to care for your skin.” Chaeryeong looked scandalized.

You rolled your eyes. “Well, I’m glad one of us is satisfied with this situation.”

“You’re not?” 

“Why in the name of the Goddess would I be?”

“Sleeping with a man who’s young, tall, handsome, powerful, wealthy,” Chaeryeong giggled as she counted off each word on her fingers, “isn’t the worst thing in the world, milady.” She flicked you a mischievous glance as she smoothly slid to stand behind you. “Especially when the man in question has a major soft spot for you.”

You scoffed. “Kim Seungmin doesn’t have a soft spot for me, Chae. He can't even be in the same room as me without snarking at me - and I can't remember the last time he actually said anything nice to me.”

Chaeryeong’s fingers stilled in your hair as she stared you down in the mirror. “You really believe that, don’t you?” You arched an eyebrow at her in response. She let out a deep sigh. “For such a brilliant witch… you really can be dense.” She shook her head before reaching over to grab flowers to weave into your hair. “I hope you realize - the one thing standing between him and war is you. Most men - especially a King - would have just tossed you onto that table and had their way with you. And maybe they would have begged your forgiveness and understanding afterwards - maybe, if they were worried about you cursing them into oblivion. No one else would have spent a whole week waiting to try and convince you into doing this willingly.”

You opened your mouth to snap something back in your defense... and realized you had nothing to say. 

“See,” Chaeryeong murmured softly. “Sometimes it feels like you’re… willfully blind to His Majesty’s kindness towards you. He’s always treated you with respect - and made sure you’re treated with respect. I wouldn’t take that for granted, my lady - or ignore what’s behind that mask he puts up all the time.” 

As she put the final touches on your hair, you couldn’t help but reflect on Chaeryeong’s words. You had extraordinary freedom and liberties as the High Sorceress…but no, that wasn’t exactly right. You were given extraordinary freedom and liberties as the High Sorceress - by your King. If it wasn’t for his unwavering support for you - against the Council, against any and all reactionary forces - you wouldn't hold any of the power you did. Sure, he riled you up, jerked you around a bit - and you still hated just how easily he could outwit you. But you were being childish to fixate on that - to lose sight of the forest for the trees. 

“And here’s the final touch.” Chaeryeong sidled up to you with a long scrap of silk in her hands - your blindfold. “You’re not allowed to see His Majesty until the ritual starts.” Her quick fingers made short work of fastening it around your head - and being the jerk that she was, she put it on properly tight, making sure you couldn’t see a thing. “Maybe that’ll teach you to let yourself lean on him for once,” she mused, before pulling you up out of your chair with none too gentle hands. 

Chaeryeong, as always, was right. You were completely unmoored by the loss of your sight, limiting your magical abilities too. You were forced to rely completely, like a baby, on Chaeryeong to guide you through the halls to the oldest wing of the castle - and you only realized that you were in front of Seungmin when the two of you came to a sudden halt, a reverent “Your Majesty” coming from her lips. 

This was it. 

Chaeryeong subtly pulled you down into a curtsy, pinching you in the back to make sure you stayed low as she stepped away from your side. From the sound of her sharp footsteps receding down the hall and the lack of any other noise around you, you presumed she’d left - and you were now alone with your King. 

“You may rise.” Seungmin’s amused drawl sounded from somewhere high above your head. Disoriented by your imposed blindness, you stumbled a little as you stood up - but you were caught by warm hands encircling your arms, steadying you on your feet. “How low the high have fallen, hmm?” Such a tease, you thought. But the gentle tone of his voice, the circles his thumbs were rubbing into your arms… he was helping ground you, to put you more at ease - which only made you feel more guilty. 

“My lord,” you started softly - earning a harsh inhale in surprise from Seungmin. “I… I owe you an apology. My behavior earlier today - for this entire week - has been immature and not fitting for a ranking member of your court. Forgive me for my negligence.” You made to dip into a curtsy again - but Seungmin’s grip on your arms tightened, keeping you from lowering yourself. 

There was a heartbeat of silence before Seungmin responded, his voice more tender than you’d ever heard it. “I don’t know what prompted this… change, but - you don’t need to apologize. I knew we both knew this is what must be done, and I knew we were going to eventually do it - but that doesn’t make it any easier for you. You didn’t want this with me, and I know that.”

Why did that last statement sound a false note in your heart? You ignored it in favor of speaking out. “But I’ve spent the past week shirking my duty. You had to force me back in line.”

“And that is my responsibility as King, my sorceress. No harm done.” You could tell that he was leaning down closer to you, his voice loud and clear in your ear. “And remember - neither this kingdom nor I will ever forget this sacrifice.”

There was an oddly charged moment of silence after that statement - which was abruptly broken by the sensation of the ground suddenly falling away from under you. You gasped as surprisingly sturdy arms lifted you up until you were cradled against a lean, hard chest. “Seungmo!” You squeaked, the childhood nickname slipping past your lips. “S-since when were you strong enough to do this?”

There was a pause - you were positive that Seungmin had rolled his eyes at you. “Just because I don’t have bulging biceps like that bodyguard of yours doesn’t mean that I’m a weakling, witch.” 

“Well, it won’t be good to kick things off with you tripping over your feet carrying me in,” you muttered sulkily. 

You couldn’t hold back a shiver as Seungmin tsked, his warm breath ghosting across the sensitive shell of your ear. “Such disrespect for your king? Bold, given that you’re at my mercy for the next hour.” 

“Next hour? That ego of yours is still clearly giant.”

Seungmin let out a husky laugh. “It’s not the size of my ego you should be worried about right now, sweet.” You thumped a useless fist against his chest - even as your core involuntarily clenched and slickened.

There was a ear-ringingly loud blast of trumpets, followed by the creak of the gates to the ancient hall being pushed open. The murmurs and chatter of the crowd awaiting your arrival fell silent, an almost eerie hush settling in as Seungmin strode into the hall. Even with the enormous fire spluttering away in the ancient hearth, the room was always chilly; gooseflesh pimpled your arms, and you almost automatically burrowed closer into Seungmin’s neck for warmth - at least, that’s what you told yourself. The sharp raps of Seungmin’s footsteps against the flagstones came to a halt, and you were securely sat onto a hard surface - the High Table. Your sacrificial altar, you mused to yourself cynically. 

You jumped a little as you felt gentle fingers clasp your hands, giving you a firm squeeze. Those warm fingertips then ghosted across your cheeks, twining through your hair as they searched for the knot of your blindfold. Your heart was bounding in your chest, blood roaring in your ears as Seungmin leaned into you, that familiar, titilatingly musky scent of his flooding your senses as he worked to unravel the tight knot, until the blindfold finally came free. 

You blinked your eyes open to mellow, golden light - and the sight of Seungmin standing over you, watching you carefully with a small, soft smile. The great hall was awash with candlelight, long tapering candles and sticks of smoking perfume burning all around you, throwing the faces of the crowd of onlookers beyond you into shadow - but bathing Seungmin in glorious, warm light. He looked impeccably regal as he stood above you in his smart black leather doublet and swan white shirtsleeves, his royal purple ermine-edged cloak clasped around his throat. His hair was up, brushed off his forehead, and the gold of his royal circlet shone out bright against the ink black of his hair - but the brightest of all were his eyes, warm and deep brown, steady and clear as he - your King, you truly felt down to your bones for the first time - held your gaze. 

Taking a deep breath, you let yourself fall back, the ancient stone of the table icy against your spine. While you couldn’t see any of the spectators surrounding you and Seungmin - the vaulted ceiling of the great hall the only thing in your line of sight - it felt like you could sense their gaze prickling across your skin, weighing you down. But before you could let your mind wander too far, Seungmin was there, leaning over you with those broad, square shoulders, blocking your sight of anything but him. You felt your cheeks flame as his hand came up to cup your face, and  your heart skipped a beat as he pressed a petal soft kiss to your forehead, breathily whispering into your skin. “It will be good, my sweet. Trust me.”

Maybe Chaeryeong was onto something… You searched his eyes, finding so much affection and reassurance beaming back at you that you blinked your own shut - before giving him a brief nod. 

He let his lips drag over to your temple, then down to your cheek, leaving open mouthed kisses in his wake as his lips trailed lower and lower, down your jawline, down your neck - and lower. Your mind reeled, your hands fisting the flimsy material of your gown. This was supposed to be brief and impersonal - you’d even readied a lubrication charm in preparation for the inevitable. But you should have known that Seungmin wouldn’t just do an adequate job like that. You were fighting for your life to stay silent as he added his teeth into the mix, working the thin, sensitive skin of your throat until you felt the sickly sweet pain of a bruise forming. His hand slid down from your cheek so he could softly thumb at the mark - his mark - marring your skin, and when he pressed down just right on the bruise, you whimpered - and watched as his eyes darkened to black. 

From there, he was insatiable. Your hands flew up to his shoulders at the swipe of his tongue against your hardening nipple; they desperately slid to clutch at his hair when he took it whole into his mouth, the wet heat tantalizing even through the cotton of your chemise. He palmed your neglected breast hard, the soft flesh spilling through his fingers. A whine finally tore itself free from your throat, and Seungmin snapped his head up to look at you, lips twisting into a triumphant smirk. “I thought you weren’t going to enjoy this, Lady Sorceress.” His fingers came up to tweak your nipple - hard - as he mouthed carelessly at your other breast, his eyes watching you hungrily as you writhed under his touch. The pleasure carried you away on a hazy cloud of lust, into the dreamland of dangerous possibilities. What would it feel like to have this dumb chemise out of the way, so his fingers and lips could traipse your naked skin? What would it feel like to have the heat of his bare skin pressed up against yours - the weight and friction of his hard chest crushing into your sensitive breasts?

Your attention was yanked back into the land of the living at sudden, discordant noise: gasps and murmurs, you quickly realized, rippling through your audience - for your King was dropping to a knee at your feet, hands sliding with promise up your legs under your chemise. You shot up onto your elbows, staring down at him in horror. “Your Majesty,” you hissed. “This is wanton.”

Seungmin arched an eyebrow. “I’d rather be wanton than have you in pain at my hands.” You felt a traitorous flutter in your chest. “And most importantly - when you have the kingdom’s most powerful woman laid out in front of you... you worship her.” 

Those large, long-fingered hands of his found purchase in the soft skin of your inner thighs, forcing them spread and keeping them spread with that hidden strength of his. He let out a small groan at the sight of your swollen folds, dragging a single, deliberate fingertip down the length of your slit. At the very first touch of his soft lips to your sensitive bundle of nerves, you choked out a moan - and startled as the candles around you all simultaneously popped. From between your legs, Seungmin laughed darkly. “Looks like I won’t need to ask you whether I’ve done a good job,” he said, the sensation of his breath and lips against your core making you squirm with stimulation. His hands slid up to your hips, anchoring you in place as he lapped languidly at your cunt, tongue flicking in and out of your aching entrance, nose rubbing up against your swollen little pearl. 

There was no chance in hell you could stay quiet any more. As a moaning keen spilled forth from your lips, your eyes flicked up to the shadowy figures in the crowd watching you. You’d thought they would be judgmental - critical, gossipy, as people always were in situations like this. Instead… there wasn’t a face you could make out that wasn’t flushed, expression glazed over. Seungmin slid his arms under your legs, yanking you down the table until the base of your spine rested on the very edge of the table, your core putty under his mouth as he supported your weight - and you watched as some woman in the crowd whimpered, biting her lip in response. 

Your head lolled back onto the table, and you started shuddering in Seungmin’s hands. 

“I guess I was wrong about needing an hour.” With a final kiss to your folds, Seungmin rose to his feet, leisurely wiping his mouth on the back of one hand, the other drifting down to the laces of his trousers. “I didn’t anticipate just how thoroughly you would enjoy my attentions, my witch.” Tease. His eyes danced with mirth as you whined in annoyance. You felt the blunt tip of him dragging through your folds, its weight catching deliciously against the tight ring of your entrance. “I’ll start slow,” he murmured, a hand coming up to brace himself above your head. And from the first breach of his length into your walls, you knew you were in trouble. 

“Big,” you gasped out. Seungmin let his free hand run loose over the flesh of your thighs and hips, kneading and caressing and soothing. “Relax for me, sweet - it’ll be easier if you let me in.” His voice was breathy and soft, eyes so warm - daresay loving - as he leaned in over you, covering your body with his. You gave him a small nod, breathing deeply and doing your best to let your body sink into the stone under you. As he carefully, firmly worked the rest of his length into your tight cunt, you couldn’t help but whimper, eyes squeezing shut at the deep, deep stretch of him, your spine arching off the table as your body contorted to accommodate him. “Beautiful,” he murmured, pupils dilated with lust. “Made to take me.” 

And as the sting and discomfort started to morph into the burning, insatiable stretch of pleasure, you were inclined to agree with him. 

“Let me know when I can move, sweet,” he asked, the flat of his hand rubbing soothing circles into your lower belly. “Please,” you rasped out - and the delightedly vicious grin that curled his lips in response only sent another surge of fire through you. Your limbs ached to twine around him, pulling him down into you, imprisoning him between your legs - but you were determined to maintain some public decorum. Seungmin made the decision for you though, salaciously bold as ever as he leaned forward into you, splaying your legs out wide, knees almost to your chest. He tested the waters with a rapid snap of his hips in and out - and the two of you stared at each other with wide eyes at just how deep it all felt in this position. Seungmin’s hips started rocking back and forth, almost as if on their own volition - almost as if they were enchanted - and your hands desperately scrabbled for purchase on the unyielding stone as he started pounding into you. 

Your hips canted up into his, trying to answer his thrusts with your own. And you were clearly doing something right, judging by his drawn out groans. “Mine,” he moaned. As he bore down on you, every thrust ground delicious friction into your bundle of nerves - and Seungmin’s hips were driving into yours at such a punishing pace that you were overwhelmed by stimulation. You were sure the two of you were making an absolute mess, the squelching sounds of him pumping into you only growing louder with every thrust. Just with his lips and nose and tongue, the friction and sensation and pleasure had all already brought you close to the cliff of your peak. You knew it wasn’t going to be much longer now before he dragged you over - but there was something positively strange happening to you. Your pleasure was merely riding the edge of some deeper, powerfully visceral sensation that had you gasping, shivering with every plunging stroke. But Seungmin, your ever-wise, your ever-aware Seungmin, had cottoned onto what was happening to you - and wrapping you tightly up into his arms, he only picked up the pace of his hips. “Let go, sweet,” he eked out. “I’ve got you safe, here - let go, my queen.” And before your mind could even process what he’d just given away, you felt yourself clenching up, eyes squeezing shut and nerves singing in pleasure as you hit your release - the pain of your fingers digging into the broad expanse of his back, the spasms of your tight cunt triggering Seungmin’s release simultaneously, spurts of his hot, thick seed flooding into your core, serving as a balm for your aching walls as he collapsed into your waiting arms. 

Before you could let the waves of pleasure carry away your mind with it, however - your eyes shot open at the gasps and shouts coming from around you. Gold - that was all you could see - a golden bubble encasing you and your King. Seungmin lifted his head up from where it was pillowed on your chest, a look of pure wonder on his face as the two of you watched the bubble slowly float and collapse inwards, coalescing into a glowing yellow orb hovering above all of your heads. The hazy whorls of incense and candle smoke in the air took on a bright golden hue - before it all whooshed outwards in a rapid gust of wind, rattling the windows of the hall as the orb and its golden mist exploded out into the sky . You recognized the magic for what it was - the largest, purest barrier charm you’d ever witnessed. 

You and Seungmin had pulled it off. A giggle of delight squeezed out of your chest, and you let your gaze snap back down to the man resting on his elbows over you. Seungmin was watching you with a small, mysterious smile, panting slightly as he tried to catch his breath. And as you looked back at him… you felt a wave of emotion wash over you, as powerful as if the ground had literally shifted under your feet. An almost unbearable fondness filled your heart as you beheld him - your King, your protector…your lover. 

You had been right about one thing - there would be no going back from this, at least for you. But now you found yourself wondering… why was that such a bad thing?

Ignoring the shuffling footsteps around you as your audience slowly started to disperse, you let your arms wrap around Seungmin, relishing the feeling of his muscles bunching under your touch as he slid his arms in turn around you, helping you to sit upright. His dark eyes were fixed on the place the two of you were joined as he slowly extricated himself from you, the feeling of his sticky seed trickling out from between your legs strange and foreign. That ever intelligent, searching gaze then slowly scanned your body, looking you over head to toe as he tucked himself away in his trousers, before his eyes fluttered shut. Seungmin let out a slow exhale before blinking his eyes open again - and you were startled to see that professional mask of his slide back into place. 

“Up you go,” he murmured, arm sliding around your back as he helped you off the table, supporting you as your legs quailed under your weight. With a few deft pulls, he unfastened his cloak, wrapping it around your shoulders instead. You were thankful for the warmth it provided - and the coverage, you realized, as you noticed the servants hovering at a respectful distance from the two of you. “Give me a second,” Seungmin said before turning away to address his valet and knight-at-arms. 

One of the maids stepped forward, a fan in her hand to put out the few lingering candles. Before you could even hesitate on what to do, she dipped into a low curtsy, bowing her head - to you. “Your Highness,” she breathed out, an almost reverent look on her face as she glanced back up at you. Awkward with the unfamiliar courtesy, you smiled hesitantly, tilting your head at her in acknowledgement. 

How had you misjudged this situation so badly? Part of your hesitation leading up to all of this had been because you’d thought that you’d be made out to be a slag - no better than the King’s kept woman. Why hadn’t you appreciated the power inherent in this? With the spectacular care with which he’d pleasured you, with the demonstration of your magic in front of the whole court, Seungmin had marked you - just as he’d told you with those hungry eyes - out to be the most powerful woman in the kingdom. 

You snapped out of your thoughts to see Seungmin making his way back to stand in front of you. You frowned to see that mask of his still in place, a strange awkwardness in his manner as he addressed you. “I can help you back to your rooms now. Or,” he turned to gesture behind him, “one of the servants can take you if you prefer.”

You arched a critical eyebrow at him. “Could we go to your chambers instead?”

His eyes widened for a second, before you watched understanding wash over his face. “Ah yes, that was careless of me - there’s too many stairs to get back to your chambers. You can rest in mine as long as you need.”

Wrapping an arm loosely around you, he let you lean on him as the two of you walked out of the hall. His rooms weren’t too far away, the royal chambers taking up a significant portion of the ancient wing of the castle. But an awkward silence reigned over the two of you, Seungmin stoically looking straight ahead as you limped along beside him. 

Something had clearly changed in you - because for once, instead of being the reactive fool you normally were, you saw the situation - and his reaction - for what it actually was. Seungmin was taking his turn to be the awkward overthinker - a role he’d grown out of once he’d become King… except when it came to a few specific things he couldn’t stay purely rational about. The things he cared about the most, the things that mattered most deeply… in this case - you. 

You sighed. You’d probably need to gift Chaeryeong a necklace or something after all of this was over. 

You bided your time until Seungmin finally shut the two of you into his chambers. He’d turned away to lock the doors behind him - and startled when he turned back around to find you standing right in front of him. As you stared up at him, watching his lips twitch in discomfort… you came to a shocking realization. 

“You never kissed me,” you breathed out, even more surprised as you said it. He’d kissed you literally everywhere else - but he hadn’t touched your lips. You gazed up at him with wide eyes. “Why?”

Seungmin shifted uncomfortably. “It felt too…intimate.”

What? “You took my virginity - in public. We unleashed a magical force field together,” you deadpanned, trying to get a laugh out of him - and failing, as Seungmin continued to look at you stoically. “I’d say that’s pretty intimate, my lord.”

He shrugged, hugging his arms around him and hesitating for a second - before bluntly, in Seungmin fashion, getting to the heart of the matter. “The reality is that… freely given sacrifice, prophecy, whatever you want to call it - I took something from you that you didn’t mean for me to have.” It was a testament to Seungmin’s poise that his voice stayed even, his eyes stayed steadily on you as he spoke. “I wanted you to have something - a part of you - you could still give away of your own will.” He sagged heavily into the doorframe, finally breaking eye contact as he trailed off. 

Poor baby. Your heart fluttered. “That is… quite thoughtful of you, my lord,” you choked out, taking a small step forward. Then another. And another, inching towards him. “So - that means it’s alright with you for me to do this, right?” Reaching up, you twined your arms around his neck, pulling yourself up onto your tiptoes to press your body into his. His hands reflexively grabbed your waist, steadying you even as his eyes widened in surprise - before fluttering shut as you pressed your lips to his. 

His mouth was divine heat - soft, pliable against yours. He gasped as you nipped at his lower lip, and you seized the chance to lick into his mouth, deepening the kiss until your head was whirling, ignorant of where you ended and he began. 

When you finally pulled away for air, his lips chased yours for a second before he caught himself. You giggled, beaming up at him. “How low the high have fallen, hmm?”

Seungmin let out a low warm laugh, such fondness in his eyes that you couldn’t help but shy away. “I have much, much lower to fall still, don’t worry,” he murmured as he bent down over you, his hair falling into his eyes as he smiled. In a single, smooth movement, he flipped the two of you around so he had you pinned up against the wall, his body pressed firmly into yours. 

You cleared your throat. “Y-you really like having me against hard surfaces, don’t you?”

He shrugged, focus elsewhere as his fingers busied themselves with the laces of your chemise. “Seems like it’s the only way to keep you good for me, witch mine.” You whined as his hand accidentally grazed your sore, tender nipple, the sound making his eyes snap back to yours. A dark, wicked smile curled his lips before he crashed his mouth back onto yours, long fingers working your breast deliberately, possessively. You responded with enthusiasm, tangling your own fingers into his silky hair, until the spell was broken - for you at least - by loud noises from outside his chambers. 

You pulled away from his lips with a loud smack. “What’s that?”

“Never mind that,” he rasped out, pulling you in tight against him. “Worry about it later.” Your breath hitched as he nosed his way into your neck, pulling at the loosened neck of your chemise to expose your collarbone for him to feast on. 

Steeling yourself, you pushed your hands firmly against his chest. “Seungmo, I want to worry about it now.” He groaned, rolling his eyes, but let you go without a fight, releasing you from his embrace. Turning on your heel, you tugged him along to his balcony. The sounds had seemed to come from the royal gardens, which were sprawled right below Seungmin’s chambers. Pulling your cloak - his cloak - more tightly around you, you stepped out onto the balcony - and froze, as an astounding sight brought the two of you to a standstill. 

Wherever you looked - below you, around you - every single plant and tree was in abundant bloom. Regardless of season, of age - fruit and flowers were everywhere, swinging in the breeze, littering the ground. You turned to Seungmin in shock - only to see him looking back at you with loving, wondrous awe. “That’s all you,” he murmured, brushing a fond hand against your cheek. “My powerful, mesmerizing sorceress.”

You flushed. “No, it’s not.” You stepped closer to him, wrapping your arms around his waist. “It’s us.” You tiptoed up to press a kiss into his cheek - and promptly hid into Seungmin’s neck as whoops and cheers rang up to you from the gardens below. 

Seungmin laughed, tucking you into his side as he led the two of you back inside. “Well, you know what this means,” he said.

You quirked an eyebrow at him. “What?”

Shooting a dazzling smile your way, he caught you up in his arms once again, the heady sensation already warm and familiar to you - before peremptorily throwing you onto his bed. 

“The fate of the flora of this kingdom is in our hands, Lady Sorceress.” He intoned in a faux serious voice - made only the more ridiculous by the sight of him crawling on all fours towards you on the bed. “We have crucial work to do, milady - and we must start posthaste.”

You threw your head back in laughter before wrapping your limbs around him. “Yes, my lord - let’s start immediately.” 

Fin.

~

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[achaoticeternal]

electric touch

aemond targaryen x niece!reader

summary: while taking a visit to the royal library, you come across aemond who seems to have a small gift for you. word count: 1.1k warnings: afab!reader, targcest, reader is mentioned to have violet eyes but that is the only descriptor. a/n: this was just a little drabble I thought of. i'm trying to get back into the grove of writing after my summer hiatus.

Though King’s Landing was quite an enticing place to visit, the climate at Dragonstone seemed to accommodate her taste better. Where Dragonstone held warm air and cooling sea breezes, King’s Landing lacked such a luxury. Whenever Rhaenyra made visits to the capitol with her daughter, neither princess slept well for their own reasons. Both, however, missed their own beds and comforts of home.

Currently, the younger Targaryen princess was making her way down the aisles of the library. Particularly, she found herself in the special collection that her uncle had curated. Books that varied from philosophy, the history of Old Valyria, and even strategies of ancient wars. However, sprinkled in between were books that contained the sweetest words held in between pages. Yes, both she and Aemond held a secret bond over the lines of fine poetry.

It was a love they learned as children. Whenever Aemond was not training or being tormented by his brother and nephews, he would accompany his niece at the weirwood tree. Helaena would not be too far off either, allowing the creatures in the gardens to climb into her gentle hands.

Such a memory caused a small smile to grace her lips as she reached for a book that had been well-loved.

“Have you come to wreck my shelves?” The voice interrupted her abruptly.

She jumped away from her spot, the breath returning to her lungs when she recognized the man. Her hands went to smooth out her skirts, “Good day to you, uncle…”

The lady went to reach for the book again. Still, it remained just out of reach. The scoff sounding next to her changed her focus once more.

“Have you not considered using your words to ask for help, riñītsos?” He questioned.

Little Girl.

Sighing at his question, she moved back from the shelf. As she faced him, her eyes flicked from the book to his gaze. Though her actions were childish, she did not anticipate being denied her wish, “Kostilus…” Please.

His dismissive hum could be heard as he moved in front of her. With ease, he gripped the spine of the book before bringing it down. Aemond held onto it for a moment, eye scanning over the cover. Epics of Old Valyria.

“I see you’ve been working on your native tongue,” the prince stated nonchalantly, “Though it is still peculiar to me as to why you deem it fit to borrow from my personal collection?”

The corners of her lips dropped at his words, “And do you enjoy withholding the pleasure of knowledge?”

His violet eye slowly trailed up her height. Both of them had grown since they’d last shared each other’s company. This was evident to both parties. Her eye then met her own violet ones as a chuckle played on his lips, “Withholding pleasure is enjoyable for some people.”

Her posture straightened immediately, the innuendo not going unnoticed. She took the book from his grip, preparing to move past him and back to the security of her mother’s chambers.

The princess did not make it more than two paces before his hand shot out to grasp at her forearm. His touch was not harsh, yet there was no warm to it either, “What are you forgetting?”

She breathed out in audible frustration. Her eyes still trained toward the exit of the library, keeping her distracted from his intense gaze, “Are you not supposed to be in attendance of the small council meeting? Or has your seat been taken?”

Aemond’s jaw tightened at the taunt. However, his demeanor remained relatively calm.

Finally, she answered him properly, “Kirimvose.” Thank you.

After a pause of silence, she craned her neck to look up at Aemond. Her gaze was met with a playful smirk, “Issa daorun” You’re welcome.

However, his hold did not retreat from her forearm. Instead, he continued, “I have a little gift for you. Consider it a welcoming present for my favorite niece.”

“Careful, uncle,” Her eyes refocused on his face. The rest of the library remained at a soft focus, “You wouldn’t want to hurt poor Jaehaera’s feelings.”

His upper tip seemed to curl into a snarl at the quick-witted comment. Releasing his hold, his hands went to the pockets of his doublet, eyeing the item within it. Pulling out the piece, a finely forged Valyrian steel chain dangled from his nimble fingers. Resting at the bottom of the chain was a pendant of a singular dragon with a sapphire for an eye. The craftsmanship itself must have cost a fortune, not to mention the installation of such a fine gemstone.

“Kepus,” Her voice lulled, “Gevie…”

Without a word, Aemond moved to stand behind her. His gentle touch caressed her upper back as he moved her hair onto one shoulder. The cool pendant rested atop her bosom, sending tingles throughout her chest. The chain itself snaked around the delicate skin of her neck where he now clasped it together, “Dōna zaldrītsos,” Aemond purred.

As she turned back to face him, her lithe fingers toyed at the pendant. She quickly grew accustomed to the weight of it and the metallic feel against her skin, “Where did you find such a necklace?”

The look on his face was passive as if he could not drop his uncaring disguise, “I had it made for you.”

As her browed raised in motion for him to continue, Aemond added on, “I figured it would be to your liking.”

She took a moment, eyes flickering from the leather he wore to the steel chain at her neck.

“I see,” She nodded, “And what moved you to commission such a fine piece?”

Unbeknownst to the lady, Aemond fought an inner battle. He wished to step closer to her and reach out once more. He hated that he could easily despise his nephews, but never her… Not the girl whom he read poetry with between lunch and tea time. The girl who was now a woman grown before him. His greatest torment and object of his deepest affections.

Aemond faced her once more, bringing up his hand to toy with the pendant at her chest now, “The thought of you wearing it for me…”

---

all feedback is greatly appreciated. my ask box is open for requests.

[solar-wing]

⚣ Paralyzed 🕷️

⚣🕷️ A/N → so the yandere/whump fic starring our very own Miguel O'Hara becomes a reality. watching his scenes back in the movie really gets you thinking. Either way definitely will be doing more content with him. WARNINGS: 18+ MDNI | Yandere Miguel O'Hara | Darling Male Reader | Reader is Spiderman in their dimension | Abduction/Kidnapping | Forced Paralysis |Bondage | Emotional & Mental Manipulation |

⚣🕷️ Summary → He should've seen the signs. Should have paid attention to the warnings. If he'd been aware of what he was capable of, he could've been prepared, or at least gotten away safely. Then again, an obsession was something people didn't just give up easily, especially Miguel O'Hara.

⚣🕷️ Words → 2.6K

REBLOGS & replies are greatly appreciated, please! 💛

⚣ ENJOY 🕷️

The signs were clear from the beginning.

All he could think about as his body lay limp was how he missed, or rather ignored every single sign that led to this. Every red flag that was warning him of this moment as the cause of his current paralyzed state kneeled behind him, propping his body up while fastening and securing the scarlet-red web bonds around his body.

“No more running. No more hiding. No volverás a escaparte de mí, cariño.”

The words were not met without merit. From his securely tied legs to the red webs wrapped around his body keeping his arms trapped to his sides, his captor took away any possibility of an escape attempt. He'd lost him once, and he would allow even the slightest chance of losing him again to exist in this dimension or any other for that matter.

It didn't stop him from trying though as he struggled, doing his best to will his body into healing and purging the paralytic toxins from his blood so he could regain his mobility. But, it was no use.

His fate had been set in stone as he was lifted off the ground and placed on the hulking man's shoulder, carried out of the motel room he’d been hiding staying in, the last view of his freedom slipping away farther and farther. Now, it was back to a life of captivity and restrictions all around him, bound to someone he would never love, but who would never not love him.

Had Y/N known Miguel O’Hara, aka Spiderman 2099, would have turned out to be an obsessive and demented mental case, determined to live out his failed love life through him, he'd have thought twice before accepting the Spider's invitation to join his team. Heck, he never would've even showed up to that damn fight with that anomaly on his Earth all that time ago that led to all this.

*13 Months Ago*

Y/N could hear the static noise from the police scanner that was in his book bag, ears perking at the voice coming on the other side detailing an incident or attack at Madison Square Garden, where his dad and other police were working security detail for an event. From the description, it sounded like Kraven, only Y/N couldn't think of a reason why he would attack such a massive event when his usual goal was always to capture him.

However, when Y/N arrived on the scene after getting the police and his dad out of harm's way, he was surprised to see that whoever the Kraven that he knew was not the Kraven attacking the event center. In fact, he wasn't even sure this was Kraven, though he had the same attire. This guy was massive, built like a giant, and dressed like a caveman or Neanderthal.

He apparently shared similar abilities to the hunter he knew, able to track him and move fast, but unlike his usual counterpart, the one in front of him seemed to be stronger. And it would seem he knew him too or at least another version of him if the way he started screaming "Spider! Spider! Spider," over and over again, switching his focus from attacking random attendees and venue staff to now trying to catch him.

Of course, different person, with different tactics, ones Y/N was not used to as he leaped, dodged, and fought with the primate Kraven in the event center, the guy seemingly trying less to straight up kill him and more trying to capture him. Maybe not that different from his Kraven at all.

After some more time and failed attempts, the primate hunter seemed to realize he wouldn't be able to catch him or his web the way he was trying and instead changed tactics, making a break for the door. Panicking at the thought of this guy getting loose in his city, he without thinking rationally went after him only to fall right into hunter's trap when he found himself getting tackled into a wall after the guy jumped out of his hiding spot when he realized his lure worked.

His mind was fuzzy as the hunter held him against the wall by his neck, his feet not touching the ground. He was struggling to breathe and was trying to free his wrists from the tight grip they were being held in.

"Caught you, Spider," the hunter chuckled, squeezing tighter, his large fingers digging into the flesh of his neck as he lifted him off the wall and held him in the air. Y/N's eyes were wide with fear, his hands holding on the wrists of the hunter as he struggled to breathe and keep himself up.

Suddenly, he was over the hunter's shoulder, his vision blurry from the lack of oxygen and the rapid movement.

"Let me go!" He heard a raspy voice shout, and it took him a minute to register that it was his own. He was kicking and fighting, but the hunter held him tightly, not allowing him any chance of escape.

The hunter walked slowly through the empty hallways of the arena as the sound of police sirens rang outside, seemingly overwhelmed by all the noises around him but still looking for something. "Den. Home. This not home," he grumbled, his voice deep and low.

"No kidding," He mumbled, continuing his struggle as he was carried.

The hunter's hand gripped the back of his knees, squeezing slightly in warning. "Find den. Go home."

When they made it to the stadium center, Kraven stood at the top of a staircase looking around while the Spider looked for a way out. While he was looking, he found himself abruptly, on the ground and no longer being held by the hunter, who seemed to be having some uncontrollable, tweaking moment.

Weird, but convenient until the Hunter grabbed him again before he could web away to a safe distance. Suddenly, just behind where they came from, something bright and wide appeared in the middle of the path, swirling with colors, like a portal.

"What the..." He didn't get a chance to finish before the hunter turned around to also observe the phenomenon, a loud whirring coming from it before a red and blue figure suddenly shot out of the portal, tackling the primate Kraven, causing him to drop the Spider again.

Serves him right.

When Y/N made his way down to the floor, he came across his savior, standing up from the ground with a digital cape that dematerialized as he stood up to his full height. His head turned slightly to the approaching Spiderwing behind him cautiously.

"Okay, weird and spontaneous entrance aside, and thanks for the save, but who the heck are you?" Y/N asked.

"Classified," the man, Miguel said, his voice was gruff, and his demeanor overly serious and imposing.

Y/N held a hand to his chin, analyzing the man before him, "Blue Assassin?"

"No," the man replied.

"The Red Caped Crusader?"

"No, I'm–"

"Attitude Dracula?"

"No, stop–"

"Cyber Luchador?"

"No, I'm from a different dimension," Miguel interrupted, his irritation growing.

"A different dimension?" Y/N feigned shock, "Yeah, that's not as shocking as you think it is, big guy."

Miguel raised an eyebrow, "I'm sorry, what? How are you not freaked out by this? I just came out of a dimensional portal in the middle of a public arena and you're not surprised?"

"Dude, I got bit by a radioactive spider, got superhuman abilities, and fight crazy idiots on a regular basis who come up with all sorts of hair-brained schemes. Plus, I watch a ridiculous amount of SCI-FI and supernatural shows and movies. Different dimensions are really not as plot-twisting as you think it is. Now, back to the important questions...Emo Daffy?"

"Not funny," The man interjected, "My name is Miguel O'Hara, also known as Spiderman in my dimension like you are in yours."

"So, not Emo Daffy then? Huh, that name would've suited better," Y/N smirked, earning a glare from Miguel as he looked him over, noticing the watch on his wrist, "Oh, nice watch. That how you dimension hop?" He asked, reaching for the watch.

"It's much cooler than a watch," Miguel replied, reaching his wrist back to keep the smaller Spider at bay.

"Yikes, sensitive much? Well, nice to meet you, Miguel. But, there's a confused and brutish caveman hunter probably stomping around, that I should get back to dealing with, so if you don't mind," He pointed toward the direction they came from.

"From what I saw before I came in, better you stay out of the way.. I'll take it from here," Miguel responded, not so subtly shading him for his earlier 'position' with the hunter, who speaking of, was slowly creeping up behind the red-and-blue masked Spider.

"No problem, knock yourself out," Y/N said leaning to the side.

"Huh, why are you saying it like that?"

Y/N stepped to the side as a very pissed-off hunter charged and tackled him from behind, chuckling a little when Miguel yelled at him for not being funny before going to help.

With the added backup now (not that he needed it), Y/N could better focus his attacks now that the hunter's full attention was on him. And since his sudden new partner seemed to know more about this than he did, he got a little more context.

This version of Kraven was from a dimension where they indeed still lived like primates or cavemen, but still had their own developed societies. That world's version of Spiderman was this Kraven's target, that part remained consistent.

However, the reasons he was trying to capture the Spider may have been a little different than what Y/N was expecting. Suddenly, he found himself a bit more grateful for Emo Daffy's appearance.

But, despite their initial introduction, the two Spiders were able to work well together, and with this Kraven having no experience against their weapons and abilities, especially Miguel's, they were able to take him down fairly quickly. Y/N had missed the part where the Spiderman from 2099 used a more special ability to incapacitate the hunter, making it easier to handle him since he couldn't move.

After Miguel had properly secured the hunter, he used the same watch Y/N was ogling earlier to open another portal. Before he left, he delivered some unexpected news to the Earth-6998 Spider.

"Well, that's that. Nice working with you, Spider. Try not to almost get captured next time," he said, in a sarcastic tone.

"Can't help it that I'm such a prize in their eyes," Y/N said.

Despite his joking tone, an air of suspense could be felt by the smaller Spider. Y/N couldn't tell due to the mask, but there was a quick, almost fleeting moment where he could feel Miguel's gaze on him, staring him down. It made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

"Yeah, you are," he finally said.

Though, it was definitely plausible that he could've said that in a completely unserious, sarcastic manner as he'd been doing the entire time they'd spent fighting the hunter who was currently hanging over his shoulder (ironic), it didn't feel like it. There was something else there, a hint of emotion that Y/N couldn't pinpoint.

"Yeah, we'll see you around, I guess. Thanks for the help," Y/N said.

"Hold on," the older Spider interjected, "I know you just met me, but have you ever wondered exactly how many others like you are out there?"

"Like me? You mean other spiders? I mean, yeah sure. Pretty sure everyone has had that thought at some point," the younger man joked, "What's your point?"

Hence, the beginning of a new journey in the young Spiderwing's life, and the first warning sign ignored.

Miguel decided to take the scenic route home, wanting to enjoy the relieving feeling of finally having his love back in his arms safe. There was nothing wrong with him wanting to relish in his victory a little.

He did have to bite him again when Y/N's healing had managed to rid enough of his venom from his blood, giving him enough control back over his body to fight against his hold. Despite the warnings Miguel tried to give him, Y/N wouldn't listen, still trying to free himself, even if it wouldn't accomplish anything due to his restrained state.

And while it did hurt him to see his love fighting so hard to get away from him, Miguel couldn't deny the pleasure he got from forcing him into defeat. When the young Spider knocked himself a little too hard into the side of Miguel's head, the Earth-982 reveled in sick joy grabbing his prize off the ground, pressing him against the brick surface, and forcing his head to the side so he could sink his venomous fangs into the delicate skin once more.

He only injected a small dose, not wanting to leave any permanent effects on him, but he enjoyed the feeling of the smaller body squirming against his own until it eventually went limp once more. The sounds of his moans and whines as he bit and kissed his skin, tasting his flesh, was a delicious symphony to his ears.

"If I were you Y/N, I would quit it with the defiant behavior and escape attempts. I may have been easy on you since I was so relieved at finding you safe, but don't think I'm above handling you with more forceful methods. Especially considering my unaddressed grief from your long disappearance. All that to say, no me presiones, cariño," Miguel whispered into his ear, a threat and a promise.

Miguel's elongated claws pressed into the helpless Spider's body, eliciting more whimpers from the paralyzed man. Even in his powerless state, the brawny Latino could feel the distress and panic from the smaller Spider, which accomplished nothing but turning him on.

He could've taken him right there in that alley. Could've forced him on his knees and fucked his mouth, or pressed his face against the wall and taken him from behind, his cries muffled against the cold bricks, the fabric of his suit torn to expose parts of his body from their earlier scuffle in his motel room.

He was already half-hard in his suit, his member twitching and aching to be released, missing the tight heat of his love's body. But, he was a patient man. He could wait until the time was right.

Miguel looked down into the orbs staring up at him in hatred and fear, feeling his gut twist unpleasantly at the sight. He do something about that in the future, vowing to earn his love's affection and respect, to make him happy, and to show him that the life he wanted to give him was worth the freedom and choices taken away.

But, for now, he was content to accept the docile and forced submission from the Spider, his expression in defeat but the defiant spirit in his eyes still there. He'd take care of that too in time.

Y/N stared up at the man towering above him, truly seeing him as the monster and villain that he hid from everyone around him. This was the real Miguel O'Hara, a sight that lived in his nightmares before and would continue to with this new memory burned into his mind for ages to come.

"Let's go, mi amor,” Miguel said, hoisting the paralyzed man onto his shoulder once more, "Nunca volverás a estar lejos de mí, mi amor."

☀️ | Miguel O'Hara/Spiderman 2099 | ☀️

☀️ | Masterlists | ☀️

[cosmichymns]

Devouring Desire

Not my gif. NSFW. MDNI. I’ll eventually put this on AO3. Smut. Just smutty smut.

She pulls you closer and encourages you to rest your forehead on her bare shoulder with a kiss to your temple. You sigh despite yourself. Her scent, the dim light of the corner she pulled you into, and the soothing rhythm of the music has lulled you into a state of pure contentment.

“Don’t get too comfy over there in that dark corner!” Morgan yelled over, catching Emily’s attention momentarily. She smirked, rolled her eyes, and playfully flipped him up. He shook his head laughing and swatted at the air in her direction before turning back to the group.

It was just supposed to be another casual night at Rossi’s mansion on the hill but after dinner, people quickly paired off. Alex and Reid. Morgan and Garcia. Luke and Lisa. Tara and JJ.

You and Emily. Oh, you and Emily.

Rossi’s outdoor patio and garden had always been spectacular but you had a sneaking suspicion that Garcia had coaxed him into letting her string fairy lights across the yard to the pool and down the pergola near the fence. Which was currently where you and Emily had found yourselves.

Emily’s arms wrapped possessively around your waist, hands sliding down to grip the sides of your hips as she lead you in an impromptu intimate sway. You ran your nose up along the length of her long, pale throat and inhaled deeply. Her signature jasmine and clove scent, which you have now begun to associate with safety, intimacy, and peace, filled your nostrils as you let out a heavy sigh.

“You okay, my sweet girl?”, she cooed into your ear as she ran a hand up your spine to cup the back of your neck gently.

“Mmhmm”, you mumbled before remembering she liked you using your words. “I absolutely am”.

Emily hummed pleasantly at that as you moved to drop chaste kisses along her throat where your nose had just been. She pulled your bodies impossibly closer as she brushed your hair to one side and gently started stroking circles along the nape of your neck.

You felt it was too needy to admit out loud but you wanted to be pressed against her always. You wanted your bodies to melt into one. You didn’t want to know where she stopped and you began. Never have you found a love like this. These thoughts in combination with Emily’s swaying and beyond gentle touches had you tearing up. You felt your face begin to flush at your embarrassment as you tried a few deep breaths to try and regulate yourself.

Emily must have felt you shudder against her throat because she pulled away slowly and inhaled sharply again at the sight of your tears.

“Oh baby…” she spoke softly, bringing up her hand to swipe a warm thumb across your cheekbones. She kissed the corners of your eyes, the rest of the world shut out as she focused solely on you. “Wha… oh, sweet girl, don’t cry, baby. How can I help? Hmm?”

You let out a self deprecating laugh at your less than sexy sniffle and looked up into her intense, dark eyes.

“I’m okay just…” you tilted your head as you thought. “I never imagined I would have this. Have… you.”

You dropped your gaze and brought your hands to her upper chest, playing with her small white gold dainty celestial padlock necklace that you had given her after a year of dating. Without knowing it, she had gotten you the corresponding key necklace in the same celestial fashion. You remember the words “disgustingly sweet” coming from Garcia’s mouth.

Emily’s expression softened even further at your confession. With one hand still securely wrapped around your hips, the other threaded through your thick, natural auburn curls reassuringly. She knew you well enough to know words were wind.

Holding the back of your head in place, she closed the small gasp between your lips tenderly. She explored your mouth for a few minutes, the two of you lost in each other, and bit down on your bottom lip gently as she pulled away smiling. Despite having seen it a hundred times, the sight of her beautiful smile always took your breath away.

Your chest heaved now as you watched Emily’s face flush slightly. Your hands caressed down her body, stopping underneath the swell of her heavy breasts. You raked your fingers against the underside of them, almost impatiently, as you looked up at her through your lashes.

It took her no time to understand the meaning of your gaze as she tugged you by your hips over to the darkened corner under the pergola. A loveseat had been dragged over by a mischievous Garcia earlier in the night under the guise of ‘making more room’. You allowed her to pull you onto her lap so your knees were on either side of her hips.

“Let me see how beautiful you are, hmm?” Emily said softy, racking her eyes over your body as you leaned back a bit away from her.

Your fingers played idly at the hem of her navy off the shoulder top before dipping underneath and skimming the soft skin of Emily’s waist. You loved that as she aged she filled out a bit more in the best of places. It gave you a comfort you didn’t know you needed.

“So lovely”, Emily muttered almost to herself as she used a hand to push your hair back behind your shoulders as you tried to clench your legs together.

She eyed your slightly protruding clavicle hungrily and ran her tongue over her bottom lip before sucking it in as you attempted to slip your hand under her linen pants. Her hand immediately caught your wrist and it made you internally smile.

“You’re awfully bold this evening,” Emily chuckled, never once did her eyes leave yours to look at the others around you but the darkness of this corner was not lost on her.

“I just want you so bad,” you said in a thick voice that was even a shock to you and Emily licked her lips. “I need your hand tightening on my throat, your teeth on my shoulder… I need…”

“What, my pretty girl?” Emily’s voice was barely a whisper now, the lust fully taking over.

“I need you inside of me more than-“, you whine quietly. “-more than I need to fucking breathe. Please?”

You could see the instant blowing of Emily’s pupils at this confession as she gripped your wrist a little tighter. You knew she wouldn’t outright take complete control of you in front of both your friends and colleagues so you sometimes pushed her boundaries a bit in public… and you paid for it at home.

“A desire so violent it seemed devouring…” the dark haired woman breathed out unevenly and so softly that you almost didn’t hear her over the noise of the rest of the team.

“Anaïs Nin.”

Emily hummed in approval while her eyes finally dragged from yours and scanned the outdoor space quickly, though you’re sure she had tracked their movements in her periphery. It had gotten late all of a sudden. Luke and Lisa were sitting on another outdoor loveseat, playfully smacking the other’s thigh deep in uncontrolled laughter. Emily smiled. The boys were hanging around the wet bar laughing and Tara, JJ, and Garcia were sitting around the bonfire in the middle of the yard, drinks in hand. She noticed JJ’s gaze falling to the two of you every so often and as you turned to see what Emily was looking at, your eyes locked with JJ’s. As quickly as it happened, JJ ripped her eyes away, blushed, and pretended to rejoin their conversation.

“I told you she liked to… watch us every now and again,” you whispered, turning around and slipping your wrist from her grip. You couldn’t read the look on Emily’s face. “I’ve caught her half a dozen times already tonight.”

Emily’s possessive, jealous side flared in her eyes now as she secretly wished you had brought a shawl of some sort so she could cover you. You enjoyed this protective, territorial side of Emily. It turned you on far more than it should. She pulled you closer to her body, the apex of your thighs brushing the softness of her belly before leaning in to kiss you hungrily. You started to slip your own hand under your already hiked up dress, gliding your smooth fingertips under the band of your lace underwear

“Let her look. Just touch me please”, you say breathily. You had always known JJ longed for something more but you couldn’t quite put your finger on it. It was true you had caught her watching the two of you with curiosity and maybe envy? Whatever the reason, you felt empathy with whatever war she was waging within herself. “Please?”

“You. Are. Mine”, Emily practically growled, leaving harsh kisses against your throat and wrenching your hand from your underwear. She repositioned her arm so her palm was flat against your belly as it sunk into your underwear.

“I am absolutely yours. Always.” You breathed out, letting the statement hang in the air for a moment. “I don’t think it’s me, per se, but us. Some people are drawn to intimacy, to closeness. Voyeurs, you know?”

A moment passes before Emily speaks.

“You like it when she watches, don’t you?” Emily states matter-of-factly as she cups your wet cunt. “A type of exhibitionist.”

“What? No… I mean…” You take a deep, shaky breath as the short fingernails on Emily’s free hand start tracing up your arms, fingers toying with the thin straps of your sundress. “I like… um, when we are *almost* seen…”

“Mmhmm, exhibitionist”, Emily whispers as she pulls down the front of your sundress, exposing one breast. She leans forward and circles her tongue around your nipple, careful to not actually touch it. “You’re so goddamn wet for me, baby. So warm and slick.”

You can’t help the groan that tumbles out of your mouth and you can feel her smiling against your skin. Her fingers slip in between your wet folds to gather a generous amount of slickness and rub it on your clit.

“Emily…” you breathe out as you arch your back slightly, eyes fluttering shut. Your hands don’t know what to do with themselves so one ends up running your fingers through your hair and the other rests on Emily’s bicep. “Em…”

“Hmmm?”

Emily can feel your hot arousal flush against her palm and finally has pity on you, wrapping her lips around a rosy, sensitive nipple. Her index and middle finger start tortuously slow, wide circles around your clit.

You bite back a loud whine, trying to remain as quiet as you can but Emily has other plans. She bites down gently on your nipple and her thumbnail drags over the wet lace over your clit simultaneously. You cry out, mostly muffled by the music but out of your periphery you see JJ’s eyes focus in on the two of you.

You try to pull your body away in vain as Emily’s teeth continue to bite down, pulling your nipple taut as she refuses to let go. Her free hand holds tightly to your hips. Your body reacts immediately to the painfully pleasurable sensation as a higher pitched whine escapes your throat.

“Oh fuck, Em…” It’s high, needy, and loud. “We can’t… not here…”

Emily grins devilishly against your breast, giving it a pop of her mouth before answering you.

“I know, I know, baby. Just breathe for me. There you go. Good girl. They can’t really see us. Maybe just a shadow of the back of you”, she said as she trailed a line of saliva from one breast to the other, pulling against your dress as she went.

The affirmation sent a shiver down your spine as you let your head loll to one side, resting on your shoulder. Letting her eyes fall from your face to where she had been working so diligently, the sight of your reddened, angry nipple sends a punch right to Emily’s pussy. Humming, she takes the other nipple in her mouth, gently this time, and suckles lightly on it. The same way you do when you’re in a certain headspace.

Your face is hot and you feel slightly dizzy. A thin layer of sweat starts to gather at your temples. The sight and sensation of Emily pulling most of your areola into her mouth makes you breathe faster. Her cheeks are flushed, she’s looking right at you, and it might be the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen. You let out a shaky breath as you run your hand through her hair and grip the back of her head, holding her in place. You try to grind against her fingers but they remain slow in carefully controlled circles. You whine as you feel her fingers tighten their grip on your hips. You feel wet, hot cum pool at your entrance now.

“Emily…”

“Hmmm?” she answered, releasing your breast from her mouth as you notice JJ rearranging herself in her lounge chair, trying desperately not to be noticed. “Use your words, princess.”

Your back arched at the nickname you can only tolerate when you’re too turned on to argue with her.

“Please, it’s not enough. Faster, please. I-I-inside, I need you…”

“Hey, that’s my girl…” Emily coos sweetly in your ear as she takes her hand off your waist, light purple marks already blooming, and tucks a wild curl behind your ear.

A shuttered, frustrated sigh erupts from your throat as she abandons your clit and kisses you gently, your eyes being teary and lips pouty. She tuts you softly with a smile. Without warning or a second thought, Emily slams three fingers easily into your drenched cunt. Momentary pain morphs quickly into an intense, bottom of your foot tingling sensation as you buck your hips roughly.

Emily’s free hand reaches up quickly, palming the base of your skull, and crushing her mouth against yours as she swallows your shocked, long groan before it can leave your throat. You instinctively try to arch back but her hand has you trapped in place.

Exactly where she wants you.

Her thrusts piston in and out of you with such force that you know you’re going to be incredibly sore later. You feel the warmth in your belly seep into your torso and into your limbs. Your body feels like pure electricity as your increased moans and whines become music to Emily’s ears.

Neither of you notice but JJ is staring under lashes now and, though more than 30 yards away, Morgan has noticed a few odd noises coming from your corner of the yard. He eyes Garcia and she looks your way now. Panicked, she stands up and starts to loudly sing along to Africa by Toto in a mostly successful attempt at diverting attention away from the pair of you. JJ’s curious blue eyes still flicker between the shadows under the pergola and Garcia.

None of that matters though because you’re so close and Emily is swallowing your moans purposefully now. One hand anchors itself at the base of soft grey hair while the other tightly grips the forearm of the hand she’s fucking you with. As gently as you can, lest Emily completely deny your request, you push her forearm deeper between your legs. You press yourself flush to her skin now and nestle your face in the crook of Emily’s shoulder. She places sweet kisses wherever her mouth can reach.

“You’re taking my fingers so well, baby. They’re so deep inside you. You’re my good girl, aren’t you, baby?”

“Mmhmm, yes.”

“Yes what, baby?”

“Yes… Mommy”, you end up moaning the last part of the sentence as she rewards you with deep hum that vibrates through your body. “I love it so much when you fuck me hard.”

“I know you do. Are you going to make Daddy proud and cum right here on David Rossi’s patio? With JJ trying soo desperately to catch a glimpse of something and the others able to hear these desperate whines? Look at me, baby.” Emily whispers into your ear as you look up at her and nod furiously, your head still pressed against her long, pale throat. “Then show me. Fall apart for me.”

Emily quickly pumps her fingers once, twice, three times while curling her fingers to hit your g-spot perfectly while she eyes messy, tight circles around your clit. Everything catches up to you all at once. Her fingers. Your clit. JJ watching. The others trying to ignore your moans. Emily’s warm skin. And you come.

Hard.

Your hips momentarily stall out and Emily takes full advantage of the slight position change and fucks you as deeply as possible. She whispers sweet nothings into your ear, talking you through your orgasm. You see the most beautiful stars behind your scrunched eyelids. Or were they the fairy lights? Were you floating?

You don’t remember to stifle your loud groan until it’s halfway out. Emily quickly covers your mouth, only adding to your peaked arousal. You flood her hand with warm, sticky cum as she fucks your through a powerful orgasm. Your open, gasping mouth is pressed against Emily’s throat as you arch yourself into her. You can feel Emily kissing your jaw, your cheeks, your temple, then finally your lips.

This is pure bliss, you realize, as she slows her hand and coaxes involuntary jerks out of you by still rubbing slowly at your clit. Emily sweetly shushes and whispers praises into your skin and lips. She rubs your back soothingly and stills her fingers deep inside you, so very content to feel your muscles flutter occasionally around her. She knows how much you enjoy staying physically connected even after your orgasm.

“You did so well, my sweet girl. You were so beautiful moaning my name.” You soaked up her compliments like a sponge as you blushed even more than you thought possible.

For a long few minutes you both stay like that. So content to be intertwined with the other that you almost lost sight of where you were. Your breathing had stabilized and the fine sheen of sweet covering your body had either dried or had been kissed away by Emily’s full, red lips. You pulled away from her reluctantly, still able to feel her unmoving fingers buried inside you. Emily’s face was still only slightly flushed as she smiled at you but her lips were swollen and her dark irises were still no where to be found.

Emily started to very slowly and carefully withdraw her fingers from inside you after gazing down at you first. You nodded, took a deep breath, and relaxed your muscles that had molded around her. She pulled them fully out, immediately brought them to her mouth, and sucked each finger. Your eyes never left her fingers as she diligently cleaned them.

“I need to taste you, Mommy”, you murmured quietly, still watching Emily’s tongue as she now licked her lips. The need suddenly became overwhelming. “Please?”

Emily let out a breathy sigh and shut her eyes briefly as the pleasure of your words washed over her. “We can’t. Not here. They’ve already been privy to too much. We should get out there and at least make an appearance.”

Emily chuckled softly at your horrified look.

“I can’t go out there! And look at them. In the face!”

“Well as nice as this little cozy corner is, we can’t stay here all night. I’ll be right there with you.”

You sighed and took one last grounding inhale of Emily’s skin before lifting your head up and kissing her sweetly. Always taking care of you, she started trying to make you more presentable by pulling the front of your sundress back up, smoothing out the skirt, and running her fingers lovingly through your hair. You closed your eyes at her gentle touches, enjoying being take care of by this beautiful woman.

“Emily?”

“Hmm?”

“Do you know how much I *utterly* adore you?”

Emily smiled wide before leaning in and kissing you lovingly. “You’ll have to remind me when we get home.”

On the other side of Rossi’s backyard, the group waited anxiously for the two of you to step out of the partial shadows of the pergola before letting out a cacophony of overly sexualized moans. All but JJ and Rossi. The later had to be told something was going on over there because he simply couldn’t hear a thing over this “new fangled music”.

You could have died right then and there but Emily wore a goofy, almost proud smile as she playfully swatted your ass as you both made your way to the group.

Emily took a seat on a loveseat closest to Tara, holding out an arm for you as you snuggled into her side, blushing bashfully. She possessively wrapped her arm around your waist, resting her hand on your outer thigh.

“Get it, dude.” Tara said with a straight face, raising a single fist that Emily immediately pounded with her own.

Alex studied your reaction curiously while Garcia was just flat out relieved it was all over.

“Y’all nasty,” Derek said, playfully rolling his eyes and smiling before getting up to get another drink. “Anyone? Y/n? You must be thirsty after… all that.”

You inwardly groaned but the vibration of it reached Emily and she couldn’t help but laugh. You hadn’t been able to make eye contact with anyone but managed to nod your head.

“Yeah, something strong.”

You chanced a look at your longtime friend, Garcia, and smiled briefly before mouthing a silent thank you.

“Wait, what’s nasty? What happened?” Spencer suddenly interjected, looking around between you and Morgan. The group, including you, laughed at his utter lack of social awareness.

[lavenderchqn]

Congrats on 300 followers!! Your works are so lovely, and theyre so fun to read!! 💕

For the library expansion special event, i'd love for a hurt/comfort written fic with tighnari that involves the reader being injured? Like, reader survives but barely, and then nari is so worried taking care of them 🥹

(I have no idea if I did the request right but regardless, congratulations on the milestone again!! And thank you for your hard work 🩷 drink lots of water and take care of yourself!!)

"BELLIS PERENNIS"

synopsis — An accident happens while you're preparing Gandharva Ville for Sabzeruz Festivals' celebrations, luckily Tighnari is there to nurture you back to health... pairings — tighnari x gn!reader warnings — hurt/comfort; mentions of an injury (nothing graphic stated); notes — tysm for this request as well as the kind words! tighnari is a very special boi, so I'm absolutely delighted to be writing for him~ I've actually had something of this caliber in mind for text/written scenarios so I'm delighted for your request. Please also make sure to be taking good care of yourself, anon 🫶

As soon as the calendars mark the start of October, the people of Sumeru begin preparations for their cherished tradition: the Sabzeruz Festival, a celebration honouring their beloved archon. Sumeru’s City streets and squares are adorned with vibrant decorations, fragrant flowers and colourful lanterns light up the bustling markets. Music can be heard everywhere as musicians practice for the grand performance on the day of the archon’s birthday. 

And you? You’re in charge of dressing up Gandharva Ville instead of Tighnari, as he’s on the committee related to the Parade. Thanks to your position as his partner, all forest rangers are eager to help whatever vision you wish to bring to life. To them, it’s somewhat refreshing to be under the guidance of someone else other than their resident Valuka Shauna. 

Currently, your beloved partner is out assisting with yet another brilliant idea of the equally brilliant Madame Faruzan and Kaveh. With no commissions relating to Sumeru’s ecosystem to be done by your friends, the time to decorate the tiny city comes. In all fairness, you all want to get done with it as soon as possible — flora-related issues can pop up out of nowhere… and you promised Tighnari not to over-extort your body.

With the help of Collei, who is surprisingly joining you in the decorating process, you split the tasks among the rangers, assigning each of them to different areas of the village: some will gather additional flowers, others will craft garlands, and a few will set up the lanterns. In your mind, you can envision the vibrant flora adorning the trees and houses, illuminating the Ville like a shimmering and colourful garden. 

At first, everything goes smoothly, allowing you and the younger girl to assist each group in completing the tasks. The garland-making process is by far the most time-consuming, requiring much precision and some “aesthetic” knowledge. The longer it goes, the more and more people join in creating said wreaths, taking over for people tired and with hurt friends. 

As time goes on and on, it gets relatively close to the time Tighnari is supposed to return from Port Ormos. By this point, you’re hanging up the flowery decorations on the trees, balancing on a ladder. Unlike the early morning, people now scatter chaotically. Everyone is hurrying up to finish their part, wanting Tighnari to witness Gandharva Ville in its most beautiful state. With everyone being everything but organised, concentrating on getting the job done is less than easy. Now you have to put up with people knocking into you on accident, messing up your balance.

Just as you’re about to secure another garland, a murmur spreads through the crowd. The word is that Tighnari has been sighted approaching the Ville. This news sends a ripple of excitement — and panic — through everyone. Collei, standing nearby, shoots you a wide-eyed glance before you break into a grin. 

“Alright, everyone!” You call out, clapping your hands to draw people’s attention. “Let’s finish strong so Tighnari can see the full splendour of our hard work!” 

In the rush that follows, people are hurrying to put the finishing touches on the decorations. Rangers are darting back and forth, carrying last-minute additions and adjusting already hung to ensure everything looks flawless. You return your focus to your task, carefully tying the last garland to a branch, breathing steadily to keep your balance despite the chaotic movement below. 

But as you’re about to tie off the final knot, someone below bumps into the ladder, sending it into a wobble. It sways beneath you, throwing you off balance. Your hand instinctively reaches out to grab something, anything, to steady yourself, but there’s nothing within reach. Your heart is pounding as you brace for a fall, feeling the world tilt as the ladder tips further. 

As there’s nothing to catch you… you have an unfortunate meeting with the ground. You can feel something breaking, as you’re knocked out. Darkness envelops you, swallowing the sounds of bustling rangers who now gather around you worried. Slowly, consciousness returns in fragments — voices now hushed, a gentle touch, and a dull, throbbing ache pulsing through your body. 

Blinking your eyes open, you’re greeted by the leafy canopy roof, blurring and swimming in your vision. It takes a moment to orient yourself and take a deep breath, only to feel a sharp, burning pain in your chest.

“Hey, hey, don’t move too much,” A familiar voice says gently. You look up and see Tighnari’s concerned face hovering above you, his brows knit in worry.

“Nari…” You manage to murmur, wincing as his fingers graze your shirt. You can notice a stash of makeshift bandages on a stool nearby. Collei is nowhere to be found, leaving you as the only two in your partner’s abode. 

“You took quite the fall,” Tighnari says softly, his voice both reassuring yet stern. “We’re still waiting for a doctor from Bimarstan to arrive and asses your situation further. We’re quite lucky nobody else was injured. What I cannot explain, however, is why you were climbing ladders without anybody spotting you.” He tries to keep his tone light not to worry you, but it’s easy to tell he’s genuinely concerned. 

You open your mouth to explain, but all that comes out is a cough and you try to grab your chest in pain. Your partner is right in front of you, catching your hands — worried that your fall might’ve resulted in some injury there. 

“Having trouble breathing?” He asks, crouching with your hands still in his. As soon as you reply with a slight nod, his expression changes to a one of worry. Perhaps the situation is worse than he initially predicted. 

“Master! The doctor is here, can we come in?” Collei’s voice echoes, gathering the attention of you both. Gosh, you hope the young girl doesn’t blame herself for your injury. You don’t even want to think about potentially adding more stuff onto her plate of worries. 

“Oh,” Tighnari leaves you be for a second, opening the door to the hut. “But of course. [Y/N] is also awake now.” 

With a quick nod, the doctor enters carefully not wanting to startle you. He can overhear the whispers of your issues with breathing. Regardless of what happened, a thorough examination is in order. According to the words of the young forest ranger, your fall was quite brutal. 

“Mr. Tighnari,” The doctor calls out to your partner as he steps outside. “I’ve concluded my check-up.” 

Tighnari’s ears perk up, focused as he nods for the doctor to continue. He’s trying his best to keep his composure, but you can see the worry in his expression as he waits to hear about the findings. 

The doctor’s done is steady and professional as he speaks. “Your partner has a broken rib. That can explain the chest pain and difficulty breathing. Fortunately, your partner hasn’t fallen all that bad, otherwise rather than a patient… you would’ve had a dead body on your hands.” Despite uttering such words, his posture is unnerved. 

That cannot be said about Tighnari. His eyes are wide with shock, as he tries to comprehend if the doctor is trying to make a joke. Nobody, not even Cyno, would been so brave as to joke about a person dying — his soulmate dying, most specifically. 

“It will take careful attention and time for the rib to heal properly. I’ve wrapped their chest to provide some support, but they’ll need to avoid any strain for the next few weeks.” He pauses, giving Tighnari a meaningful look. “They should take some time off work, heaven knows what you rangers do to patrol Avidya Forest.” 

Tighnari releases a quiet sigh of relief, nodding as he absorbs the information, deciding to omit the thought of your death from his mind. “Thank you, doctor.” He says, voice steady but softened by gratitude. “I’ll make sure they rest and follow your instructions.” 

The doctor gives a small, reassuring nod before leaving. Collei, however, hovers nearby, visibly anxious. Tighnari, picking up on her distress, gestures for her to come closer.

“Collei, it’s alright,” He says gently, giving her a comforting smile. “They’ll be fine, they just need time to recover. Don’t worry — it was an accident, nobody is at fault here.” 

Her shoulders relax slightly, though she still looks at you apologetically. “[Y/N], I… I’m so sorry. I should’ve kept a better eye,” She says, her voice shaky. 

Despite the dull ache in your chest, you manage a small, reassuring smile. “Don’t blame yourself. I’m,” You pause to take a breath. “I’m not upset… and neither should you.” 

“Oh, um— o-okay…” 

Tighnari places a hand on her shoulder, giving her a supportive squeeze. “You’ve done everything you could. I’m very proud of you for taking charge. Now that everything is in order, you can rest as well. We’ve all put in a lot of effort, you know.” 

With a hesitant nod, Collei finally allows herself to relax. She murmurs a quick farewell and leaves, casting one last concerned glance your way. 

Once you’re alone, Tighnari sits beside you, his expression soft as he takes your hand. “You had me worried,” He admits quietly, brushing a thumb over your knuckles. “You’re not getting out of my sight for a while, I guess?” 

You cannot help but chuckle, which immediately turns into a wince as pain flares up in your chest. Tighnari’s grip tightens ever so slightly, brows furrowed in concern. 

“See?” He says. “This is why you’re under strict bedrest. No adventures until you’re fully healed AND approved by the doctor.” 

You sigh in response, resigned but comforted by his soulmate. “Fine, fine. I guess I have to behave now.” You reply, meeting his gaze with a hint of a smile. 

No more than three weeks pass by as you realise being bedridden is quite boring. Sure Collei, Tighnari and even Cyno are here to keep you company while you get better, yet you're still aching to go out to witness the Sabzeruz Festival in person. You’re quite certain that at this point, every place of Sumeru is decorated to the nines and yet you’re stuck in your silly little bed. 

“Drink slowly,” Tighnari says as he settles a glass of water on your nightstand. Over the past few weeks, your partner has truly evolved into his final form — a mother hen. Ever since the first day of your recovery, he has been granting your every wish. Fluffing over pillows? He’s done it. Feeding you? Complied with an eye roll. And yet, there was one thing he wouldn’t allow you to do… Leaving the hut. It has been so long since you’ve been outside, you were unsure if you knew how to walk still. 

“Oh, thank you,” You pick up the glass and slowly bring it up to your mouth.“You shouldn’t have.” You say, taking a sip. 

Tighnari’s watchful eye doesn’t leave you for a second, ensuring you’re drinking slowly enough not to cause yourself any harm. “Oh please, darling,” He rolls his eyes, scoffing at your preposterous comment. “It’s my pleasure to help out my soulmate in their time of need.” 

“I know, I know…” You sigh, taking a look outside. 

The garlands are still hanging in the branches, adoring Gandharva Ville’s trees with beautiful shades of pink and blue. Oh, how you long to witness this beauty in person, rather than from the confines of your bed. No matter how much you tried to hide said desire from Tighnari, there was simply no use. The male knew of every single one of your thoughts, whether you liked it or not. 

“You know,” Tighnari sits next to the bed, resting his head on his hand. “Maybe we could take a walk today? I think it would do you good.” 

Your eyes light up at his words, though you quickly try to compose yourself, not wanting to appear too eager. After all, Tighnari’s been strictly enforcing your rest, and far too much excitement might have him second-guess the idea. “A walk?” You ask, trying to sound calm but failing as a hint of hope slips into your voice. 

He chuckles, eyes warm as he observes your expression. “Yes, a short walk,” Tighnari emphasises, “Only around the village, and only if you promise to let me know if anything feels off. We don’t want you taking any more tumbles.” 

You nod, lifting your pinky finger. “I’ll take it easy.” 

With his support, you ease out of bed, feeling the cool, earthy air of Gandharva Ville wash over you. The decorations are even more enchanting up close, just as they were on the day you put them up. Villagers and forest rangers greet the two of you as you pass by, each offering a smile and words of encouragement — relieved to see you up and about. 

Tighnari keeps a steady pace beside you, his arm linked with yours as he leads you through the village. He looks at you every so often, making sure you’re okay. He cannot risk you any other injury so quickly, otherwise the doctor’s cruel joke might come to fruition. 

For all this time, he had been keeping up a front of being worried… in moderate amounts. On the insides, for the past few weeks, Tighnari had been a nervous wreck. Juggling preparations for the festival while taking care of you was no easy feat. And yet, seeing you up and moving at least fills him with a deep, quiet relief.

“Are you okay there?” He asks softly. There’s a tenderness in his eyes, one that shows how much he’s missed seeing you this lively.

“Better than okay,” You reply with a smile, though you do your best not to overdo it, worried about the ache in your chest. “Everything looks so beautiful. It’s like… exactly how I’d imagined it.”

Tighnari chuckles. “Good to know the work has upheld the planner’s expectations.” He sighs a little. “Though I’d much rather have you safe and sound than climbing ladders. Please… leave the high work to someone else next time, you hear me?” 

“Okay, okay—“ You nod, feeling gratitude mixed with guilt. “I never meant to make you worry.” 

“I know. There was just…” His expression grows serious. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt as helpless as when I saw you there on the ground…” 

The admission hangs in the air, as does the silence that comes soon after. Stopping for a second, you reach out to Tighnari, to wrap yourself around him in a gentle hug. “You took amazing care of me… I couldn’t have asked for more.” 

He nuzzles his head with yours, not wanting to put any pressure on your body, grounding himself in said reassurance. “Well,” He says, his voice lingering. “You’re gonna have to let me fuss a little longer. I’ll watch you like a hawk until that rib is fully healed.” 

“As if you weren’t doing so already…” 

date of posting — november 4th 2024

[gatorlovebot]

part two of this little piece <3

you work early hours, not as early as simon, but in the mornings when he's bundling himself into his truck he notices lights on in your home. the bathroom, the bedroom, and the kitchen. he watches you pull into your drive later in the afternoon. he gives you about an hour.

after the first time you agreed to accompany him and riley his feet always lead him to your front steps whenever he takes the dog out. the second day he can see the ways in which you weren't prepared for this to happen again like your feet still being in your fluffy slippers. but you oblige him again, turning back around inside to slip your shoes on.

by the end of the week when he comes to your door you're all ready to go on the other side. like you were waiting for him. it makes something rumble contently in his stomach. but when you two loop back around the neighborhood and say your goodbyes at your doorstep he vows to give you a break from himself over the weekend. he's been greedy all week, basking in your attention and kindness. the way you smile at riley, the way you smile at him, the giggles that bubble up out of you at his jokes. he'll revel in it over the next two days, drowning out the rest of the world with memories of you.

-

he wakes up later that night, disoriented and confused because he doesn't remember falling asleep. he's in a sitting position on the couch, boots still on, riley laid up next to him. when simon starts to stir riley's eyes cut to him, simon can feel them even in the dark of the house. it's late and simon is cold and his head throbs. when he reaches down to undo the thick laces of his boots his head feels impossibly full. he felt a tickle in his throat and a dull ache at his temples at the job site earlier that day but he had just brushed it off.

he drags himself from the couch down the hallway to his bed, curling up under the blankets still in his clothes, shivering despite the layers. when he wakes the next morning he feels worse, barely able to let riley out into the back garden. he spends most of the day resting on the couch, not eating, not drinking, until he opens his eyes to complete darkness and hauls himself back to bed again, the warmth of riley curling along his back.

the next day starts the same, simon waking to the ache in his ribs with every breathe he takes from spending the entire night coughing. he's not as cold, luckily, but his head still feels weighted down. he takes his place on the couch, dozing off once riley is back safe and secure in the house again.

he's awoken later in the day to a soft knocking at the door. he settles back into the cushions and let his eyes slip shut again, willing the stranger to go away. no one knocks at his door. his eyes snap open though when he hears the softness of your voice calling his name. he musters up his strength to get himself upright and hopes hopes hopes that he hasn't kept you waiting for too long, that you'll still be there waiting for him on the other side of the door when he finally gets it open.

you stand on his doorstep with tupperware in your hands and a smile on your face. he has to lean against the doorframe to keep himself up right. "oh, hi," you greet, color gracing your cheeks as you gesture at the tupperware in your hands, "i was baking and i thought i'd bring you over some cookies for being so nice to me since i moved in. i made a few different kinds because i didn't know what you liked. oh, i also made some dog biscuits for riley, they seem a little dry to me but the receipt i found used all dog safe ingredients."

he could listen to you ramble all day long, he hopes you'll keep going, hopes you'll explain each little thing you made him and his dog. he hopes you never leave his front steps, hopes you'll come inside. but you don't keep going, he instead watches as you furrow your brows as you take in his face. he hasn't looked at himself in days, can't even being to imagine the right state he's in.

"are you sick?" smart girl you are for putting the pieces together, he almost melts at the concern lacing your words. you reach a hand up, resting the back of it against his cheek, he tries not to purr against the softness of your skin. "you're so warm." you comment, reaching up to press your hand against his forehead, he shamelessly leans into your touch.

you giggle at him, a little thing, "you're burning up, simon."

his head still rests against your hand and his eyes are firmly shut, filling him with a sense of serenity for the first time in days. "sure am." he croaks, voice breaking against all the shit in his chest. it's the first time he's spoken to anyone in days.

"have you been taking care of yourself?"

he waits a beat, voice in his head screaming at him to lie, to push you away, but instead he shakes his head agianst your soft skin, mumbling out, "don't know how."

he doesn't see the way you roll your eyes at him, but he feels you take your hand away, instead moving it to his chest to push him back inside. once you toe your shoes off by the door you stop to take a moment to take in his living arrangements. the space and silence between you two allows for shame and embarrassment to start creeping up his throat but before he knows it you're leading him back to the couch, riley hot on your heels.

you get him to lie back down and even though he takes up the entirety of the couch you make space for yourself. sitting on the edge of the cushion, back against his legs as you reach over to fuss around with the blankets. it feels so good, but he knows its wrong. knows that you shouldn't be here, shouldn't be touching him like he's something to be taken care of.

he's almost about to listen to the voices in his head to push you away when you reach for his hand. he knows its clammy, but you slot your fingers between his like you want to be there. like you want to be touching him.

"have you eaten anything, simon?"

he vows to let you stay for as long as you like.