CookingWithLottie

“How…?” Damian muttered, standing in front of the bathroom mirror and just staring at all the lipstick marks you’d left on him. His hair was a mess, school uniform ruffled from the time you two had just spent in the bathroom stall.

“I swear to god,” he hissed, grabbing a paper towel and wetting it to wipe the marks off. “I’m going to murder you if any of these stay.”

You watched him, as he tried to scrub the lipstick off of his face. As he did that, you reapplied some to your lips. His scrubbing with the damp paper towel didn't work that well. So, you handed him a makeup wipe, and sighed. "It's your fault. You didn't wanna wait at all."

Damian’s eyes darted over to you as he paused scrubbing for a moment. The scowl still present on his face, he snatched the makeup wipe from you and began scrubbing his face with it, though it was still rather ineffective.

“I didn’t want to wait longer.” He muttered, trying to get a particularly prominent mark off. “You’re the one who’s addicted to my touch.”

You rolled your eyes, and fixed yourself up. Honestly, you still looked really good. A little messy, but just enough to where you can pull it off. Damian was the one who looked like a mess. So once you were done, you began fixing his messy uniform.

"I'm also the one who told you to wait after school, Damian. But, no... You couldn't even wait for me to wipe my lipstick off." You sighed, as you fixed his shirt and tie.

Damian stood there and let you fix him up, knowing there would be no point in arguing further. Besides, even he could admit that he was at fault for this one. His cheeks had a faint pink tint, though he would never admit that it was there.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever…” He muttered, grabbing your wrist once you were done messing with his uniform and pulling you close to him again. “Just… be quiet.” He muttered, before placing a kiss on your neck.

Your eyes darted to the bathroom door, as your hands threaded into his hair instinctively. It seemed like he forgot that he said that he was satisfied before we got out of the damn stall.

"Dami... You said you were done." You reminded him, as you started fixing up his hair a little. "Besides, I thought you were mad about the lipstick stains that I left on you."

Damian lifted his head up from your neck, a smirk playing on his lips. You could clearly see the red marks on his face still, despite the amount of scrubbing he’d been doing.

“I was,” he responded, his lips attaching to the side of your neck again. “Now I just don’t care.”

His hands slid down to your waist and started to pull at it. “Just five more minutes…?”

You looked at him, staring at his face for a moment. Then, you smiled. He was adorable when he was covered in the stains of your lips, and still had that slightly messy hair.

You pulled his head away from my neck to look at him. "Mhmm... Five minutes." You mumbled, and pressed your lips against his. Your hands played with his hair, as you pressed my body up against him. "Just a little bit longer should be fine.." You mumbled against his lips, caving into him just like you always do.

Damian hummed, his hands sliding from your waist to your hips and pulling you flush against him. He tilted his head to deepen the kiss, his eyes closing as he lost himself in the moment.

A soft moan escaped his throat, muffled by the kiss, and his hands grasped at the fabric of your clothes, desperate to feel you even closer.

“Just a few minutes…” He echoed, his words no more than a breathy whisper. When you realized that he might take some of your clothes off, you remembered that you couldn't do this in the middle of the bathroom.

So, you grabbed his tie and dragged him into the stall that you both normally used to do things like this. "Mhmm... Only a few minutes, stop talking and make them count." You whispered, as you began kissing his neck.

A smug expression appeared on Damian’s face as you pulled him into the stall, his eyes glinting when he realized what was happening. He wrapped his arms around your waist as you began kissing his neck, a low groan escaping his throat at the feeling.

His hands drifted lower, his fingers lightly tracing along the hem of your skirt. “Five minutes isn’t that long….” He murmured, his voice rough and filled with need.

You looked at him, and pecked his lips. Then, you began unbuttoning my shirt again. The entire time, you made eye contact with your boyfriend. Soon enough, your shirt was fully unbuttoned. You were standing there in your bra, and skirt. Your shirt was fully open, hanging on your shoulders.

"Fuck the time limit, Dami... Just play with me." You mumbled, and connected your lips with his neck once again. Like hell you'd actually stick to the time limit!! You were just trying to play with him, but he obviously didn't understand.

The sight of you half undressed drove Damian wild, his hands instinctively tugging at your skirt. He pulled his mouth away from your neck, his eyes roaming over your exposed skin.

“You’re really going to regret saying that, sweetheart.” He murmured, his voice low and filled with desire. Oh, like fuck you'd regret it!! You'd probably be drooling at the memory of what's gonna happen later.

He pushed you against the wall, his body pressing against yours as he claimed your mouth in a heated kiss. His hands began to roam over your body, his touch desperate and possessive.

As he touched and kissed you, you began unbuttoning his shirt. Your mouth may have been occupied, but your hands worked quickly with his shirt. He was in good shape due to his nightly work with Batman.

Once you got his shirt off, you put your thigh in front of his crotch, giving his erection something to grind against. But, you were more focused on how his lips felt against yours for a moment.

A low moan escaped Damian’s throat as you unbuttoned his shirt and pushed your thigh against him. He started to grind against you, his body reacting wildly to your touch.

His mouth devoured yours, his tongue sliding into your mouth while his hands pulled your hips against him. He continued to kiss you with a frenzy, as if he couldn't get enough of you.

He pulled away just for a moment to speak, his voice hoarse and filled with desire. "You're too damn good at this..." He muttered, before capturing your mouth again.

You laughed against his lips when he said that, then went back to kissing. After a while of doing this with Damian, you've obviously learned what he likes. That's why you was so good at this, because y'all practiced so much.

As he kept grinding himself against your thigh, you smiled against his lips. The fact you could make him act like this drove you crazy.

Your fingers moved to get into his pants, and you moved your thigh away. You didn't want him grinding when you were trying to grab him.

Damian groaned softly as you moved your thigh away, his hands gripping at your shoulders to keep himself steady. He was trembling with need, the desire evident in his eyes.

When your fingers started to undo his pants, his hands immediately grabbed your wrists, stopping you. He looked at you, his eyes filled with an intense mixture of longing and lust. "Don't rush it..." He murmured, his voice strained. "Not yet, not yet..."

Damian's heart pounded in his chest as he fought to control himself. He wanted you, that much was clear from the way his body was reacting to your touch. But he was determined to prolong this moment, to make it last as long as possible.

His breathing was ragged as he looked at you, his eyes dark with desire. "Let me touch you, first." He pleaded, his voice rough with need. "Let me touch you, and taste you, before you touch me..."

the ache in his cock burns hotter the longer he tries to ignore it. staring up at the blank ceiling does nothing to distract him from the borderlining pain in his boxers. he lets his head fall sideways limply as he stares at your sleeping form next to him. you’re laying on your side and your his shirt has risen up, exposing your plump ass filling out your lacy panties.

groaning quietly, he presses his thumb and forefinger into his eyes as if that could relieve anything. he brings his other hand down to his cock, gently squeezing himself through the thin cloth. his eyes unconsciously drift back to your ass and he bites on his knuckles to keep himself quiet.

the squeezes aren't getting him anywhere, and he realizes that quickly. it simply isn’t enough. his hand never compared to your warm cunt.

now, he's left with two options. jerk off quickly and put himself back to sleep or roll over, slip himself inside your gummy walls, and have the best remedy for his throbbing cock. the decision is easy.

damian scoots himself next to you, his bare chest pressing up against your clothed back. lips dip down to your exposed neck and lock themselves in place to leave butterfly kisses all over. the tip of his tongue runs down slowly on the side of your neck.

he blows air through his lips on the wet path he left behind, watching each goosebump rise one by one. your hips move back slightly, pressing right up against his hard dick. damian’s eyes roll back in his skull as he groans and buries his head back in your neck. strong hands grip your hips to keep them steady as he lets his own roll into the fat of your ass.

“damian?”

you turn over to lay on your back. your tired eyes meet his lust blown ones. your voice is barely over a tired whisper when you ask him what he’s doing.

damian presses his hand next to your head and slots one of his thighs between yours. he shifts it upwards and flexes the muscle against your hot cunt.

“payback, maybe…” his teeth flash, sharp canines flashing in the dim outside light.

a sheepish smile curves on your mouth. lazy arms come up to wrap around his neck and pull him down. he makes sure he’s the first to lock your lips together. he alternates between playing with your top and bottom lip, desperate for as much contact as possible.

your efforts to kiss him back are weak compared to him, who’s been awake much longer than you, but you try nonetheless. keeping up with the swirls of his tongue and the bites of his teeth. your mouth gets frozen in a gasp when you feel his hands creep down your stomach.

his palm heads south in a downwards motion and you pull yourself away from his lips to watch it disappear behind the cloth of your panties. your eyes squeeze shut when he makes contact with your clit. he rubs tiny circles, all of them sending shockwaves up your spine, before he dips his finger lower.

pressing two fingers into your entrance, he keeps the ball of his hand pressed to your clit, keeping a constant pressure to the nerve bundle. moans barely escaping through gasps pass your lips when he curls his fingers and pushes them upwards.

“oh my god,” you mewl, watching the way his hand flexes behind your underwear.

damian leaves open kisses along the length of your throat. he keeps his ear right under your mouth, making sure all your sounds infiltrate his brain. they go straight to his cock, making the throbbing unbearable as he grinds against your thigh.

all you can think about is the feeling of his warm fingers working their way in and out of you. one hand shoots down to grip his moving wrist and the other goes back to grab into the pillow behind you. his fingers move faster, move harder, to get you to a release. your head tilts back in a silent scream as your cunt pulsates around his fingers. that familiar warm static feeling runs through your veins, making your brain go mush and your toes go numb. you meekly try to paw his hand away that keeps on moving inside you.

“dami, please,” you plead, eyes starting to bubble with tears.

all he does is push his lips to your to cease your whining. “on your side.”

he keeps your lips connected as he gently maneuvers your body to rest on its side again. he feels your hand reach to run over the back of his hair. only then does he retract his hand from your hot south, to pin your hand onto the bed in front of you.

“no touching,” he grunts through his kisses. you whine a little, arching your ass back into his cock.

he tsks, letting go of your hand, leaving a bruising grip on your hip. “you started this, remember?”

“you weren’t this mean the last time,” you pout, still trying to grind your ass on him.

“‘cause that was for you. to relieve you,” he tells you. “this is my turn. i’ll have you how i want you, and you’ll take it all.”

he pops his cock free from his boxers and pushes your panties to the side. his cock slides between your folds, catching every so often on the bump of your clit.

damian leans down predatorially to the side of your face. “you gonna take it?”

he watches you nod your head vigorously, biting your lip to suppress any whines.

“you know i don’t like that,” he sternly reminds you, and you release your lip from its hold of your teeth.

his cock pushes in to the brim and he lets out a hiss of relief. hand gripping your hip while the other rests on the pillow above your head. he begins rocking his hips back and forth into your warm pussy.

your walls squeeze him tight and his mouth is permanently left open at the feeling. he’s silent with his pleasure, but he can’t hide the faces he makes. brows scrunch together in ecstasy when he feels you throbbing against him. lips curled in an “o” shape as he watches himself disappear in and out of you repeatedly.

your moans add onto his pleasure, being able to push him over the edge if he wasn’t careful. you let out whine after whine when he abuses that spot deep within you, hands clutching onto the bedding beside your head.

he groans and flips you over onto your stomach, placing his knees on either side of your thighs. gripping your hips tightly, he presses them deep into the mattress, and starts hardening his thrust. your toes curl and feet kick at the bed beneath you as your moans are caught by the pillow.

“right there, dami.”

damian smirks, coming down to place his hand on the headboard. “you like that?”

you puff out a small ‘mhm’ into your pillow as your eyes roll back into your head. your fingers claw at the sheets and try to pull your body away from the overwhelming pleasure, but it only causes him to tighten his grip on your hips to pull you back down.

he grips a handful of hair from the back of your head to tilt your face upwards. crashing his lips onto yours as his thrusts grow sloppier.

“you want me to come inside?” he asks into your mouth. he already knows the answer.

“uh-huh.”

he grows more frantic as his orgasm appears on the horizon, thrust increasing their speed. he pulls away to look into your eyes. “want me to fill your pussy? make it mine?”

“yes, yes,” you slur as you stare back into his eyes. “it’s yours. make it yours, damian.”

he cups the front of his throat with his fist as releases his load into your awaiting cunt. he grunts into your mouth and you can feel it vibrate down your throat. your body gets pushed further into the mattress when he sets his full body weight on your back.

he lets out a couple more lazy thrusts into your puffy cunt, all while you whimper as you claw at his wrist beside your head.

“damian…”

you nudge him for what felt like the millionth time. it’s just past two o’clock in the morning and while your boyfriend is usually a light sleeper (keeping an eye out for your safety even while sleeping), he’s out cold tonight. it almost makes you feel bad for why you’re trying to wake him up. the sun isn’t even out yet, but you can’t help the burning heat that has settled between your legs.

you groan a little when he doesn’t wake up, squeezing your thighs together for any sort of friction that will help rub against your most sensitive parts. a tiny whine escapes between your clenched teeth, but only relieving a fraction of your horniness.

damian’s body turns around to lay on his back and he brings his hands up to rub his eyes. he blinks up at you, who’s practically leaning over his body while holding yourself up on your elbows.

“y/n?”

you bite your lip when the sound of his scruffy sleep voice makes its way to your ears. another sound close to a whine climbs out of your throat.

“i’m so sorry, dami. i really am.”

blinking slowly, he looks around confused, trying to search for any signs of what you might be apologizing for. “what…?”

“i think it’s because of that movie we watched before bed. you know, the one with the sex scene? god, i don’t know, but i just… i can’t-”

you’re speaking so fast that damian has to force himself fully awake to even make out what you’re saying. he flops back down on his back, while you’re still rambling, once he realizes that there’s nothing seriously wrong. just the fact that you're extremely horny and almost on the verge of humping his leg like a dog.

“dami, please. please. i’ll be so good, i promise. i’ll go back to sleep right after, you’ll see.”

he lets out a sigh, one you know he doesn’t mean, before rolling over on top of you, silencing your rambling. his forearms plant themselves in the bedding right by your head. now hovering over your body, he connects your lips together and you think you might cum just from his hungry kiss as your tongues press into one another.

reaching down, he slowly tugs down your loose, silky pajama shorts. a groan from deep within his chest breaks free at the realization that you aren’t wearing any underwear underneath. two of his long fingers run through your wet folds. he hisses through his teeth at the feeling of your warmth that welcomes him eagerly.

your grip on his large biceps tighten when you feel him start to rub your clit gently. you whimper into his mouth with consuming bliss, and you whine when he pulls his fingers away. hooking his hands onto the back of your thighs, he pushes them up softly to your chest, expecting you to keep them positioned there while he starts to pull down his boxers. two thumbs tuck under the band of his boxers and he quickly shoves the front part down to expose his hard cock.

unable to control yourself, you wrap your legs around his hip and tug him towards your open cunt. you circle your arms around his neck and lift your upper body to connect your lips again. he lets out another groan and he moves his body forward, making your back meet the mattress again slowly. his cock slides into you inch by inch the closer he gets to pressing your chests together. by the time he’s fully inside, your breasts are painfully squished by his pecs and his forearms are back to resting by your head.

his hips start rolling into yours, painfully slow, and you feel your toes starting to go numb. you think he’s doing it on purpose, moving agonizingly slow just to punish you for disturbing his peaceful sleep. but, my god, it feels good. that slow, pulsing drag of his veiny cock along your fluttering walls is still enough to make it feel like he’s fucking a hole through you. he finishes every rolling thrust with a hard shove upward into your cervix and you swear you feel him all the way up in your throat.

“i’m sorry for waking you,” you say, rushing through desperate whines. truly, you were sorry. you know he never gets a proper amount of sleep and the fact that you woke him up just to fuck you made you feel bad.

“god, fuck, i’m not,” he says, groaning as he pushes himself deeper into your cunt.

you choke back a sob so as to not be so unnecessarily loud this early in the morning, covering your mouth with the back of your hand. your eyes flutter shut and you hear him tsk before pulling your hand away and pinning it beside your head.

“none of that,” he warns. damian cups the side of your face with his warm hand and slides his thumb into your mouth to keep it open. his own makeshift way to ensure he can hear your moans and whimpers.

“oh, damian,” you mewl, head shooting back against the pillow as he hits the deepest parts of you continuously.

his other hand squeezes at your hip, hiking your leg further up his waist, and drives into you harder. his pace is still set in that slow, romantic rhythm but his hips are determined to snap at just the right angle to get you to the edge of release. pulling his thumb out of your mouth, slick with your saliva, he brings it down to rub tight circles on your clit.

clawing at the sheets, you bend your back into a nasty arch that ignites something feral in his chest. damian rests a forearm horizontally right above your head and bruises your lips with his own. it’s a filthy kiss. one that would have a grade A pornstar clutching their pearls. teeth biting tongues, and he drinks up every sound you make like it’s an aged wine brewed just for his tastes.

“i’m gonna… i’m cumming,” you whine into his mouth.

your arms wrap around his neck, reaching up to tangle in his hair. damian snakes his hand to the back of your head and lightly takes a fistful of hair to pull your lips apart. he tilts your head back to give him a perfectly clear view of your fucked out face. your brows scrunch together and you're practically cross-eyed, and it makes his cock throb in your warm cunt.

“nasty girl,” he grunts, and his abs get tight as he rocks his hips a couple more times to chase his release.

he hisses when he cums, putting all his body weight onto your trembling body. you welcome him by locking your legs around his hips and digging your nails into his shoulders. you press lazy kisses onto the side of his face before he turns his head to interlock your lips together once more. it’s slow this time as he caresses your waist. he kisses your cheek and lets his nose drag along it as he whispers in your ear.

“you gonna let me give you another one?” his voice is groggy and sleepy, but he smiles against your cheek when he hears you giggle. he hoists you up into his arms and lowers you down into his lap. his hands grip your hips and he begins grinding up onto you, ready to postpone your sleep like you did to him.

After the performance, the endless standing ovation and the little interviews you gave while being overwhelmingly emotional, you were done. Your twenty-two-year career was over and you were ready to celebrate it.

You avoided the private reception though. Not wanting to talk with obscenely rich fans who would try to make you tutor their kids or grandkids. You just went back to the bar of your hotel alone.

And that's where you met her. She was the prettiest girl you'd ever seen, wearing a dark green, perfectly fitted women's suit that matched her eyes beautifully. The aura around her was beyond intimidating. She looked like a doll with her long dark hair and when your eyes met, your heart dropped.

You made the first move, then chatted with her the whole night. Being a yapper was pretty tough when you flirted, but she listened, all her attention fixed on you. As if you were the only girl in the room. And between the laughs, the conversations, the gentle touches here and there that made your legs go numb and her soft-spoken voice, you shared a kiss on one of the hotel's balconies.

As if it was your lucky day, it went further. The two of you ended up in her hotel suite, making out hungrily every two seconds between sips of wine and the general culture quiz playing on the TV.

That was the greatest sex you'd ever had. And after fifteen years of travelling around the world to play piano here and there, and twelve years doing it alone as an adult, you were anything but new to the little game of hotel one-night stands.

And she was just so good at it. She worshipped your body the whole night long, leaving kisses and marks everywhere, caressing your skin as she fingered you, overwhelming you with her hands. Talia was a perfectionist, and it showed. She was so focused on your pleasure and attentive to every little sound you made.

She would mutter answers to questions from the quiz on the TV while still playing with your body, and you laughed every time she did it. She was so fun to be around, and it was surprising coming from a lady who looked so strict. You didn't only experience pleasure, you genuinely had fun. Between rounds, she kissed your belly, thighs and your face, listening to whatever you had to say. She hummed, smirking at your jokes and playing along.

Whenever you stopped talking, she'd start caressing you more slowly, giving you time to resume talking or to keep messing around with her.

She was so intoxicating. Undressing her felt like opening gifts on Christmas morning and even when you were the one giving her pleasure, she talked you through it, praising you for how well you were doing, how pretty you looked, and it just made you start playing with yourself as you ate her out.

Talia's moans were like rewards. You knew you were doing great, but she'd usually just whimper or breathe heavily, so whenever you actually got a moan out of her, you felt prouder than after any prize you'd ever won.

And when you finally closed your eyes to sleep, it was already sunrise. You slept for about two hours before quietly leaving the suite in the morning.

Talia had woken up with a startle when you closed her door. It was crazy. She never let her guard down, but with you, she actually did.

You got up beside her, got dressed, and left, and she hadn't heard any of it. You could've actually killed her. She wanted to go to your room afterwards, but she overthought it and never did.

She assumed you'd left because you wanted it to be just a one-night stand. And though she somehow wanted more, she didn't do anything about it.

She didn't forget you. During those three years, she'd thought about you every other day. Talia would never say it out loud, but she used to get herself off to your interviews whenever she was stressed out. She didn't even need to watch them, just hearing your voice was enough to make her come. Watching you was only a bonus. If she felt greedy or wanted it to be quick, she'd listen and watch you.

The lady didn't only lust after you, she also listened to your music. She played videos of your recitals thousands of times; when she was getting ready, when she was doing paperwork, when she meditated, even when she had trouble sleeping. You had simply become part of her life, but she never looked for you, preferring to keep her distance as she believed you wanted.

And then your paths crossed again.

Talia wanted to get close to her son. Not in a perfect loving mother way, baking, grounding him because he didn't do the dishes —even she didn't know how to do that— putting bandages on his wounds. No. Not like this.

She didn't know how to do any of these things anyway and it was way too embarrassing for both of them.

But still, she wanted something. Something outside of the league or Damian being Robin. Something about his daily life that she would handle.

Playing soccer with him? No, she didn't like putting effort into something as trivial. Taking drawing lessons with him? No, he was very good at drawing and she was too. She felt like it would only entice competition between them. They both loved to win and, though she felt proud whenever her son did something better than her, she also didn't like taking it easy on him.

After a short phone call with Alfred, she found it. The old man had mentioned the PTA (Parents Teacher Association) at Damian's middle school. Obnoxious and stupidly rich parents who met every Wednesday to talk about school and social matters concerning their kids.

So not only would she be involved in something very serious in Damian's life, but whenever there were little festivals, sports days, proms and shit, she would also get to spend time with him.

What better way to be part of her son's life than being in a place he spent 5/7 of his week, almost ten months a year?

That's how she became part of the PTA the very next week. The first meeting was at 6 p.m. in one of the school's reception rooms. There were about a hundred parents and a dozen teachers.

Why that many? She didn't know. Maybe rich Gothamite people things. That's when your eyes met again after three years. You were standing alongside an old man and a lady who looked like a seven years old.

Her eyes widened. You were here. She knew she wasn't mistaking you for someone else, she'd recognize you from behind. You simply smiled softly at her, which she didn't return, too shocked, only watching you from head to toe.

You didn't look surprised by her presence, as if you knew she'd come. How?

Later that evening, you found yourself sitting beside her as a teacher gave a little speech about the upcoming events.

"Hi" you muttered, your eyes fixed on the teacher standing on stage.

"Hello" she answered, strangely nervous.

"You're Damian's mother, right?" you continued.

Her eyes turned towards you and, after a few seconds, yours did too. She looked at you, puzzled, before finally chuckling.

"Is this a little game of yours?"

And it was your turn to widen your eyes, lips parting. "You..."

"Of course I remember you."

"Oh... Sorry, I thought you'd forgotten me. It's been a while." You chuckled awkwardly.

Talia nodded. "You don't look surprised to see me here though."

Playing with the hem of your dress, you shook your head. "I teach music to your son. You two look alike."

And she smirked. "Really?"

You thought for a second. "Mostly, yeah. You're gentler though."

Talia leaned on her elbow, her chin resting against her palm, her green eyes studying every little detail of your face. "So that's what you do now? You're a music teacher?"

You were very aware of her presence. Your heartbeat sounded too loud and those pretty green eyes scrutinizing your every little move were already too much for you to handle.

"No, actually I teach history for the high schoolers. But I give music lessons once a week to middle schoolers."

She raised an eyebrow. "I thought you were done with music."

You smiled without even realizing it. She was the first person who questioned that choice. Everybody else found it normal. A piano virtuoso who had won the International Chopin Piano Competition three times —so basically every time you had competed— becoming a music teacher after retirement? Very basic indeed.

People tended to question the fact that you taught history instead of music full-time far more than the opposite.

But Talia knew. She remembered. She knew you had a history degree. She also knew you were done with elite piano classes.

"You remembered that?"

She huffed as if it was the dumbest question she'd ever heard. "Three years isn't nearly long enough for me to forget everything."

Your heart missed a beat, just like it had that night. Damn. You were done for.

"I'm expensive," you answered instead, trying to cover up the frantic song of your heart.

You had spent most of your life travelling from country to country. When you wanted a new dress, you'd simply waited to have a recital in Paris in order to send someone to get one for you. And though you weren't in this lifestyle anymore, you still loved financial comfort.

"A teacher's salary isn't enough to support me, even if this school pays us really well. So I give an hour of music lessons to middle schoolers who are volunteer, and their parents pay me triple my salary thinking I'll turn their kids into the next Beethoven."

Talia was stupidly happy. She liked the sound of your voice. It felt good. Reassuring. She loved hearing you talk and was willing to do many things to keep you doing it.

"Why Gotham? Aren't you from Texas?"

Your heart clenched again. Why did she remember all of that? It was so fucking attractive.

"It's silly, but I just spun a globe and moved to whatever city it landed on. And tada. Batman, Robin, Harley Quinn. You know. Gotham."

Talia hummed, not quite knowing how to keep the conversation going. She wasn't good at talking too much. You were, but she could tell you felt too awkward to start yapping. Still, she wanted you to take control of the conversation and lead her wherever you wanted.

"Damian did not volunteer for your piano lessons, did he?" she asked hurriedly when she noticed you were about to redirect your attention to the speech.

"No, he didn't," you answered with a chuckle.

"He's just not part of any clubs, which is mandatory. So we agreed that he could simply attend my lessons once week, taking only one hour of his time instead of the six a club would've."

You turned towards her quickly, eyes brightening. "You know what he said to me?"

Talia smirked, shaking her head. There you go. Finally getting you to yap.

"He said, 'Let's make a deal, Miss. You make a paper allowing me not to join any clubs and I'll ask my dad to get you promoted.'"

Talia laughed and you did too, delighted by the sound of it.

"I'm sorry. He thinks everyone is buyable. His father grounds him often for that. I'll talk to him."

"That's fine. He got his paper, but my lessons serve as a club replacement. He's so bored that he's thinking about signing up for the soccer team instead."

You looked very pleased with yourself after saying that.

And then, to her absolute horror, your attention drifted away from her when a woman sat down on your other side. Apparently, you knew each other because the conversation started flowing instantly.

So you stopped talking to her just to go talk with another woman?

"Always a pleasure talking with you. My daughter wants to be just like you someday," the woman said warmly.

"She wants to teach history?" you asked ironically.

Talia caught it in your tone. The woman didn't.

"Haha, silly you. No! She wants to be a virtuoso."

"I'm not one anymore, but I'm sure she'll be one for a long time." You laughed and Talia rolled her eyes, annoyed.

That night, Talia went home without getting the chance to talk to you again. And she tried. She really tried.

But you'd always managed to avoid her, leaving her watching you from across the room the entire evening, increasingly upset.

The next Wednesday you weren't at the PTA meeting.

And at the next meeting again, you were there. Still not accessible, this time, you were the one doing speeches and talking about the upcoming events, sometimes your eyes crossed Talia's, but you'd always turn to someone else randomly, too overwhelmed by her. Talia hated it so bad. She wanted to go talk to you, but as soon as you finished your speech, you left, walking faster towards the exit. Again.

The next Wednesday, you weren't there. Again.

It drove her completely mad. She spent the three previous years holding onto the thought of you desperately, like a creep, and she never did anything to find you. Because she thought that's what you wanted, because she thought it was just how things were meant to be, because somehow she was a bit scared of possible rejection.

Now she had found you again, randomly, like fate, and you were so receptive and looked like you had fun with her, just as she did. So why were you still avoiding her? She didn't even have time to make a move!

The next Wednesday, she wasn't able to take her attention off you. As always, you were surrounded by people wanting you to give private lessons to their kids.

Talia hated the way she felt. She spent the evening rolling her eyes, huffing and frowning. She needed air. That's when a maths teacher came to talk to her, a very composed lady, always dressed like a minister. Her makeup was flawless, she was flawless. She wasn't some thirty-three-year-old woman who didn't know what to do with her life.

She was very mature, very experienced, very straightforward, everything you didn't think you were.

You had just watched them talking, seeing the teacher laugh made you bite your lip. Then your eyes crossed Talia's and you'd smile faintly, trying to hide your jealousy. You thought you were done for, this lady was way out of your league, just like Talia was. They just got along pretty great.

Talia knew you were watching, she also knew you didn't like that. It showed. You were jealous or something like that. Fine, it was actually a pretty good sign, so why were you still running away if you were into her?

She could've played with you, maybe flirting with the lady just to see if you were really jealous or if it would entice you to make a move. But she didn't, first because she wasn't into childish games that could possibly hurt you and next because this whole situation frustrated her so badly that playing this stupid game and entertaining a lady she didn't give a fuck about was too much.

Talia just wanted a good talk with you, maybe a good kiss, so she approached you, ignoring the fact that you weren't alone.

"Hello." She simply said.

You smiled awkwardly, tightening your fists "Hi..."

"Could I have a chat with you? About school matters..." she asked and you laughed awkwardly, avoiding eye contact with her.

"Alright, probably in ten minutes though... I'm still busy with these adorable faces."

The people around you laughed as if it were funny. It wasn't, even you didn't find it funny. Talia would've smiled though if she wasn't so pissed.

She nodded and left, staying not very far away, looking as if she was waiting for her prey. But obviously, you had to make it more difficult. You ran away. Suddenly. You actually ran out of the door, leaving everyone perplexed.

Talia was speechless, you didn't even try to hide it anymore!

So she made a decision, if she didn't talk to you at the next meeting, she'd let you be. She wouldn't try to pursue you anymore and she'd just ignore you.

The next Wednesday, you were absent, and the next one as well. This whole situation had been going on for more than a month.

Everything finally changed at the very next meeting.

You were there, finally. But Talia didn't cross eyes with you, she didn't try to talk to you and neither did you. She just spent the evening talking to that maths teacher, not to annoy you, but because that lady started the conversation.

You watched them the whole evening, distracted, overthinking every single one of Talia's movements. They went so well together, you hated it. Talia did her best not to look at you either, she needed to regain some common sense.

Even though she wanted it so badly, she was not chasing a woman who basically ran away from her. She was done trying with you and she wouldn't look at you. —She tried to convince herself she was done.—

Then she heard glass shatter and her eyes instantly turned towards you to make you sure you were alright. Apparently someone had bumped into you, making you drop your glass of wine. Your blouse was soaked with the red liquid.

You were still smiling though, reassuring the man who had done it. You looked like you wanted to cry, as if this was your last straw. Your eyes crossed Talia's and you gave her the fakest smile ever, making her heart skip a beat, then you left for the bathroom.

"She is silly, isn't she? I like her, it's refreshing." The maths teacher said, laughing softly.

Alright... You won. She sighed and excused herself and followed you.

You were in your bra, washing your blouse in the sink, muttering curses under your breath, tears gathering at the corners of your eyes. She closed the door and leaned against it. You didn't even raise your head, you knew it was her.

"You're not running away?" she asked sarcastically, mostly because she didn't know what to say to comfort someone.

"Talia, I'm not in the mood. I don't like that." Your voice cracked.

"You don't like what?!" She answered, her voice louder than it had ever been. She wasn't shouting though.

You didn't answer, fisting the cotton.

"I don't like it when you run away every time I'm trying to talk to you just to act weird when I'm talking with someone else! I don't like being here giving a damn about this situation because I was supposed to be done with it, but you just won't leave my mind."

Again, no answer from you and she sighed.

"I don't even know what I'm saying. I'm leaving." She muttered but didn't move yet, still trying to get something out of you.

"We're not supposed to be doing this, you should actually leave, yes." You finally answered.

And she didn't say anything, her heart clenching painfully in her chest. "So why are you crying..." she whispered.

You pressed your lips together, holding onto your clothes, tears running down your cheeks, your head lowered.

"Let's have a proper talk. Let's make things clearer for both of us and we'll see what happens. I think we're both very tired of this, right?" She finally said. If she didn't know how to comfort someone, she knew how to be honest with people and she knew how to be gentle with you —that's all she knew how to be with you actually—

You nodded, still looking down, wiping your tears away.

That's how you found yourself in the backseat of her car, driven by her chauffeur. She was sitting next to you silently, one arm resting against the leather seat, her posture as composed as ever. She had given you her jacket so you could cover yourself up.

When you arrived in front of your apartment, she clicked on the button that raised a wall between the front and the backseat.

"I'm not sure I want to talk anymore. We... we should just take some space. Sorry and thank you for the dr-"

"Why do you self-sabotage?" Talia cut you off.

You raised your head, surprised, lips parted, completely silent. Talia added that expression to the list of things she hated the most next to your silence.

"I'm pretty sure I made it clear that I'm interested in you. You also made it obvious that you are into me, right?" she pursued.

You didn't answer, biting your bottom lip.

"So if we're both interested, why do you keep running away? I'm right in front of you. I'm chasing you even though Wednesdays were supposed to be about my son. And I do it because I want to, I really want it. But you keep running, be honest. Please. What's going on? Let me know because I'm so lost."

Her eyes moved all over your face, trying to find something. Your lips trembled.

"I'm not ready for this, Talia. I'm a thirty-three-year-old woman who doesn't even know what she wants in life. I'm not sure I'll keep being a teacher, I'm not sure I'm staying in Gotham. I mean, I chose this city through fate, that's such a kid's thing to do!" You frowned.

"I don't know where I'm going, I don't even know myself, I'm not the right choice for you." You said the last part with a sob.

Talia exhaled, reassured. She felt like she could breathe again. Suddenly a wave of tiredness enveloped her body, all her anxiety fading away.

"So that's what it was about..." she mumbled, so fucking happy.

The two of you were sitting next to the windows. She grabbed your hand and gently pulled you towards her, your head dropping onto her shoulder, one of her arms wrapping around your waist while the other remained intertwined with yours.

Tears were running down your cheeks wetting her shoulder and you sobbed quietly. "So you're interested in me, but you've spent your whole life dedicated to something you don't want anymore. And now that you don't have it anymore, you feel helpless and lost because that was the center of your life." She said, trying to guide you through the conversation.

You nodded. "I just know I don't want to play piano anymore. And I don't want anything casual with you, but I don't know how to be a lover or something. I don't even know what I like. Piano is my only talent, that was my only hobby, my only personality, I have nothing without it, but I also don't want it."

She hummed, stroking your side through the fabric of her jacket you wore. "So it's time to build a new life, you just have to do and try everything you weren't able to."

And there were a lot of those things. You didn't go to high school because you had online classes, you didn't have a prom, you didn't go to college, you got your history degree through online classes, you never dated anyone nor slept twice with the same person, in fact it was a miracle you weren't a virgin.

The last time you had friends was in elementary school, you never travelled with friends or family, you never went to a wedding, you never properly visited a country even though you'd travelled your whole life —you used to arrive, play and leave.—

There were a lot of things you hadn't done since middle school or elementary school. Like going to the movies, and it's not that you didn't have time to go to the movies, you just weren't in the mood. Your career trapped you in a spiral of routine, boredom, fatigue and loneliness.

"I cannot ask you to wait for me to be ready. You're not the kind of lady who likes this bullshit." You said, wiping your tears away.

"You're right, but you are no bullshit. I can wait, I'm going to wait, but I'm not leaving."

"I don't know how much time it'll take me. You might want to leave me."

She chuckled softly. "Let's start together. Let's discover who you are together. That way you'll be able to build yourself a new life. And... maybe I'll be part of it? Will you let me?"

You lifted your head, meeting her eyes. "You still want me?"

She nodded. "But don't run away, please, or tell me when you're helpless, I promise I'll listen. And let's see each other outside of Wednesday nights, I'd like to keep these evenings for my son."

"You're very responsible for an assassin. I like it." You buried your face in the crook of her neck.

She patted your head, completely unbothered. "How do you get that information?" She didn't show a trace of surprise nor discomfort.

You shrugged. "I had time to kill before I started teaching."

"Maybe you should be a detective." Talia said, half-joking.

"Everyone as bored as me can be a detective. I'm not even sure I understand everything I've found though. Bruce Wayne is Nightwing, isn't he?"

And she laughed. "Never mind, let's find you another path."

"Together?"

She kissed your temple and held you tighter.

"Please."

Yeah, despite not knowing what you wanted in life, you sure wanted to be with Talia.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── Lynn ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

He pulled away—breathless, his cheeks flushed a rosey pink tint. After regaining his breath, he switched to nibbling on your neck—one of his hands fondling your breast. The pleasure felt undeniably marvelous, making you whimper even louder than before. “mngh— h-harder...” you pleaded, saliva drooling out. And so he did. Biting down hard on your skin, leaving dark purple bruises all over your neck. He stopped for a moment to take a good look at you,“Look at you doll, all messed up— just for me.” He gazed at you with awe, admiring the art work of the mess he made.

He shifted his attention to your chest and quickly shoved the unattended one onto his mouth—licking your sensitive nipples as he pinched the other with his hand. Causing you to moan out his name—hands gripped tightly around his hair as he continued playing with your chest. Just as his other hand makes way underneath your skirt—someone barged in the room, looking at the scene before them, they quickly apologized for interrupting and closed the door shut—muttering apologies as they went down the staircase.

“Well that's one way of turning down the mood,” He broke the silence first. “So... Do you still wanna have that round 2?”

╰┈➤ ･₊˚ʚ 𝙽𝚘𝚝𝚎𝚜 : I rushed while writing ts so mb... (The entirety of the time I was writing this I was thinking about ayatsuji)

𝚍𝚒𝚟𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚍𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚌𝚊𝚏𝚎𝚔𝚒𝚝𝚜𝚞𝚗𝚎

He blinks the sleep from his eyes, and meets yours. You’re wide awake, looking awfully pleased with yourself. In his periphery, he spots your tail swaying from left to right.

“Mm. Morning, kitten.” He palms your head, before petting between your ears. They twitch. “How long have you been awake?”

“Awhile. You sleep like the dead. It’d be scary, if I couldn’t literally feel you breathe.” You prop yourself up higher on his torso, your eyes brightened by sunlight. From this angle, he has a better view of your neck. He can see the hickeys that litter your skin, and knows that’s not all of them. He left more, lower down. On your breasts, waist, thighs. “You snore, by the way.”

“I’m well aware.” You never let him forget, really. Nor did you ever actually complain. He has a feeling that the knowledge pleases you greatly. You poke and prod him about everything, oddly keen about learning his likes and dislikes. Rarely do your tastes align, but Varka knows finding common ground is hardly your concern. Just the knowing is enough for you. Some days, you trail behind him, like his extra little shadow. He can’t understand your fascination with him, but he revels in your fickle attention all the same.

Words are quickly replaced by touch. It’s common for the two of you, in the early morning hours, when your vocal cords are hoarse from sleep and sex and neither of you has much to say. You trail your fingers up his chest, until you stop over a particularly gnarled scar on his bicep. He flexes just a tad, and enjoys the way you purr in response. Your hand pushes against the muscle, sharp nails digging slightly into him. Not enough to hurt. Biscuits, his brain supplies.

He strokes along your back. Your skin is so soft compared to his, his hands calloused and worn from years of experience.

At the start of your relationship, he always handled you so carefully. Like glass. He wasn’t worried about hurting you, he knew how to handle his own strength. There’s pride in that. But scaring you? That would kill him.

It’s not a worry now. If anything, you press into his hands readily, like flower petals between the pages of a book.

It’s only when he drifts lower, reaching the silky smooth insides of your thighs, that you grumble in complaint. “I’m sore.”

“Whoops.” He doesn’t let you go, but lightens his grip.

“You’re a brute,” you say with a scowl that he would call adorable, and you would claim menacing. “You practically mauled me.”

He doesn’t bring up the hypocritical dull stinging of his back. It’s a good memory, the way you yowled as you scratched him. Varka could never resist when you got loud for him, so it only made him go harder on you, uncaring of the way you scored deeper into the skin as you clenched down even tighter.

Battle scars. He earned them fair and square.

“Sorry, sorry.” He apologizes with a glibness he doesn’t expect to get away with. “Want a massage?”

You stare up at him, contemplating his offer. Then, you roll off of him. Varka mourns your warmth, but that period of grief is cut short when you don’t immediately flee the bed. Rather, you turn, your naked back on full display. He can see all of you now. The slope of your spine, all the way down to your bruised hips. His eyes rove over you, appreciatively, and you glance back over your shoulder. “Only if you play nice.”

“Ohhh, I’ll be very, very nice,” he promises as he moves to sit up. It’s cute, the way you try to remain aloof, but as always, your body language betrays you. Your ears are tall, alert, and your tail swishes with clear excitement.

Columbina was out walking late one night, gathering her thoughts about the next Moon-Prayer Night. How she would try to help the people of Nod-Krai, how she would still keep in contact with Arlecchino. All the 'what if's' swirling around in her head until she looks up at her home, the moon. She now finds great comfort in looking up at it, and realizes it is almost like looking at her partner. 

She looks down at the ring they had given her as a surprise gift on cold winter day. Columbina remembers looking at their hand and saw a similar looking ring. "We match!" They exclaimed, "thank you for being in my life." They smiled fondly at her. Since that day she has never taken it off. A ring made out of moonfall sliver has since been a popular trend among the people in Nod-Krai, and the merchant who first started to sell them has made a fortune. 

"I know everything will be alright with you by my side." She whispers, rubbing her thump over the ring.

"Ah, welcome back." Flins greets his partner who has returned to the lighthouse. "How was the trip?" He lays the photo he was admiring onto a table to greet them by the door.

"The usual." They reply, "still looking at that old thing?" They tease, "I know they say 'take a picture it'll last longer' but I didn't think you would take that seriously.

To Flins who has lived many, many years, a picture would not last long enough. To catch a moment in time was precious, magical even, to someone who has watched time pass by more than others. "The way the moonlight caught your eye was magnificent." He teases, "and that smile, I wasn't kidding when I said I could look at it for hours."

"Ms. Lauma!" She turns her head to see two children of the Frostmoon Scions calling out to her. 

"Yes?" She greets them with a smile, "how can I help you two?"

"We want a bracelet just like yours!" They both exclaimed with stars in their eyes.

Lauma chuckles, "this was a very special gift more someone very important to me. They say that the animals helped guide them to find the materials." They children both looked at each other, "I'm sure if you go ask them they would be more than happy to help."

"Y-yeah!" One of them piped up, "thanks!" She waves them off and goes back to her duties. Laughing to herself, she hopes she didn't make too much trouble for them.

"Here, put this on your finger." Arlecchino hands a small box to her long time partner, in every sense of the word. The box held a ring, the jewel in the center has a deep red. The band itself was pure black. It was crafted by the best of the best, right here in her home of Fontaine.

"The color of your eyes." They look up at her with such fondness she never got used to. "Thank you."

She shakes her head, tucking her head behind her ear to reveal an almost matching set. Only these jewels were the exact same color has her beloved's eyes. "I know it's not quite the same as matching but this is much more subtle for me. I hope you like it."

"A bookmark?" He holds the paper closer to his face. The first thing to catch his eyes was the Sumeru rose, then the sakura blooms. "Did you make this?"

Wanderer gets a nod in reply, "I know it's a lot of purple but this is sort of what I think of when I think of you." He scoffs at these words, walking pasted them and shoves them to the side. Not Enough to make his partner fall over though.

"Since you made it for me I guess I'll just have to treasure it then." The bookmark was then asked by multiple of his peers at the academy. Durin and Albedo were the only ones who could figure out why he kept it in such good condition.

Sucrose and Timaeus have often seen Albedo fiddling with something underneath his shirt. At first they thought it might have something to do with his body. The two came up with a few hypotheses before finally asking.

"If there's anything wrong with your body we will definitely help!" Sucrose mustered up the courage to say.

The cool wind whirls past you, the leaves travel in the wind. Their destination? Unknown, but with how livelier the air has been, it seems as if the wind wishes their journey well.

Dandelion seeds were falling throw the air, the children in the city threw them all around and outside the cathedral shortly after the ceremony.

The bells from the cathedral ring in the distance, echoing across the land, symbols of celebration and joy for the nation. Cheers, screams, and hollers of joy were barely drowned out by the ringing.

But tucked away, sitting underneath a tree, you were reading another grimoire. One Nicole gave you as a gift on the occasion of your marriage. You were happily flipping through the pages, tale after tale enticing you. You were still seated in your wedding attire, only thing separating you and the plush grass was the coat your husband wore.

Only instead of his usual uniform and knightly attire, he wore a suit and tie for this event. But at your humble request, he happily “lent” you his coat to sit on.

It was hilarious in his eyes, here everyone was waiting to leave for the reception, but yet here you were. Sitting and reading a storybook, flipping through the pages as if this was any other day.

You looked magnificent, no, gorgeous, no! Strikingly beautiful! No matter the words he could come up with, Varka was no poet. But he knew you looked like something meant for the stars in your wedding attire.

The ceremony was one for the books. As soon as everyone heard of the Grandmaster’s engagement, it was like the nation of freedom buckled up for a knights wedding. The members of the hexrei added to the ambiance, Alice summoned so many cute dodoco for the wedding. Even when you scowled at her to cease her demonstrations, she simply told you about how proud she was.

“I can’t help it [Name]! You’re getting married, I though I’d never live to see the day!”, at her words you wanted to kick her out your dressing room, but instead just smiled. Her hugs of warmth and love reminded you how far you have come. How much of a family has grown on you and your heart.

Through the usual chaos concerned with any wedding, it seemed even Barbatos held his breath at your wedding, (the bard was in the wedding hall, so he did have a hand to play in all of this).

However, despite the chaos, the shenanigans, and even having to ring up your soon-to-be husband to clear out some messy people, the day wasn’t like any other. It was more than that, it was everything you’d ever ask for.

Your reading comes to a pause when Varka’s shadow overcasts you, you don’t even have to look up to see him, or the smug smile on his face.

“My lovely witchy spouse is spending their time in a book, rather than ogle at their new husband.”, he grinned at your eyes rolling, but a smile did appear on your face.

“How precious, its not like we have the rest of our lives to spend time with.”, you make room in the space under the tree for him. Varka eagerly takes you up on your word and scoots close as he can to you.

“Yeah, but-why not use some of that time now? Never know when I’m going on another expedition, or if I randomly get injured-”, he pauses his statement when he catches your side-eye.

“Perhaps then you’d finally go seek a doctor, a real one.”

“Why? Why when I have you!”, he nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck. His wedding attire was dashing; the fitting of the suit was absolute perfection on him. From the way it fit around his chest and arms, to the way it made Varka look mature yet captured his boyish self. It perfection in the making.

But he forwent his suit blazer in favor of wearing the white button up underneath, his tie was wrapped in his hand as he pestered you. Was it pestering if you enjoyed it secretly? To the outside view, some would question why the newlyweds weren’t running off to the reception yet, they should be cutting the cake by now, dancing even!

But no, your waning interest in the grimoire was replaced by just gazing at your husband.

Husband..

It was no longer a foreign word on your tongue, but a truth now. One you can repeat day after day, night after night. You’d never grow tired or bored of such, because Varka would always ensure you were entertained.

He must have caught your eyes and simply in return he smiled softly, his eyes softened as he leaned on your shoulder. Your fingers curled around his hand, tickling his palm.

You didn’t need to say those “three special words”, because you could already feel them. In his laugh, his smile, his dad-jokes, and in his care. You can always feel them.

You should be heading to the reception; everyone was waiting for you two showstoppers.

But instead, you pressed a kiss to his temple, and your hands remained intertwined.

Varka hummed a tune he’s heard from his travels; the wind blows by once more carrying a small sound of laughter within in. Oddly it mimicked his humming.

No words were shared, but this day marks all the memories to be made in the future.

A future with him, a happy one at that.

You don’t know how long you stayed under that tree, sharing a small moment of harmonious ease, but all you knew was that you were happy. You were guaranteed to be happy as long as your sweet, goofy, charming knight of a husband loved you. Luckily for you, he wasn’t planning on stopping soon.

For a long, long time, you believed you were destined to be alone.

You’re attitude on life had changed, withered by age. It made sense, many would not last the course. Which is why you were so reluctant to let Varka in, his resolve barely crumbled around you. Instead, you thought Barbatos was personally looking out for him. The long days of comfortable silence, the nights under your homes roof, the seconds shared between smiles.

For so long you did not think it could be real, just a cruel dream only to be conjured in the depths of your mind. A “what if”.

But with this man on his knees, looking at you like you were the best thing he has known. Blue eyes worried, his hands cupping the ring box like a lifeline. His voice shook as he held your hand.

“So…please honey, my beloved, my everything, my [Name]. Will you marry me?” His voice carried to your ears. This is usually where the dream ends. When you wake up to another day.

Seconds pass. No waking up.

This was real, he was real, the ring was real.

“You’re serious?” Your voice trembled, any seed of doubt was trying to take course, Varka quickly shook his head. He felt like he was seconds from crashing, the delicacy was terrifying. “As a heart attack, honey-[name], I’m serious.” He smiled, the wolfy-boyish smile he gave you when he tried hiding an injury, or when you got onto him for forgetting to change his bandages.

The smile that loves you.

Your hands cup his face, finally removing from the table, the other from his hold. You can feel the light stubble on his jaw, the faint scars lining his face. You shifted off the chair, easily coming into his embrace. Varka quickly set the ring box down, his arms holding you closely. His arms were secure, strong around your body. His shoulders relax, the tenseness leaving. A small tremor was in his fingers; he buries his face in your shoulder. Your hands grip his shoulders, neither of you move.

He knew, you knew he knew.

But he consoled you anyways, rubbing your hand up and down your spine. Whispering against your skin, that when he wakes up tomorrow, he will love you just as much as he does today. Ring or not.

“I love you, believe I do.” He promised, a kiss pressed to your temple sealed it.

Silence covered you like a warm blanket. Varka did not touch the ring or mention it until you had him say so. Now, not how he envisioned this proposal to go, but he wasn’t mad. Your voice was low against his neck, a few incoherent words his ears don’t pick up on.

“Say it again honey, let me hear you.” His voice was warm against your temple; you shift in his hold a little. You stay silent, before pulling back with a small smile. Quick enough to miss it, but he saw it. Varka’s heart flutters, his worries melt away.

“Can you ask again…this time so I can be prepared and not suffer from a heart attack you oaf.” Your voice was trembling, but it was laced with joy. Varka held you as he reached for the ring box, he cleared his throat dramatically, then presented the ring again.

“[Name], my beloved witch, my everything, the sweetest of honey, you’d be so delicious with tea.” Your eyes roll, but you let him have this. “Mhm, go on? We’re already getting gray hairs, I’m afraid you’ll be bones before you’ll get it out Varka.” His laugh bounced off the walls, but your smile sweetened the deal.

“Alright alright, where was I? Before I was interrupted? Oh yes, asking for the love of my life to marry me, isn’t that what this is? Or is this the wrong room?”  You slap his shoulder and he gets on with it; he had to lighten the air a little.

“[Name], my beloved, my everything. Will you marry me?” Before he could even finish the sentence you were already nodding your head. A false sigh leaves your lips, but the smile never left. “Finally, I was having dreams of this, I’ll have you know. Kind of rude of you not to pick up on it sooner Grandmaster.” You grinned, cupping his face, Varka held a look of disbelief.

“Now, honey I know you like having your special dreams about me, but do you expect me to read minds? Have you seen me try and read one of your special witchy books? I barely make it past the table of contents.” He frowned; your lips were pecking all over his face. Uncaring of his pout you press your forehead to his.

“[Name].”

“Yes?”

“Is that a yes?”

“Yes, Varka, it is a yes, I hoped it was obvious.” He cackled when your cute scowl came around, he rose to his feet, carrying you with him. A shout leaves your lips.

“Varka! The ring! The ring, put me down!” You squirmed, but Varka never let you down. Instead, he picked up the ring box, carrying you out the study down the hall, the dinner be dammed, he was getting his meal elsewhere. Walking down the hall, he entered your bedroom, really your shared bedroom. Varka was barely spending time at his home, not when he can just be here with you.

He tossed you onto the mattress, he quickly crawled up the length of the bed. A barrage of kisses land on you, his hands pulling you close to him with your hips. Pressing you down with his body weight onto the bed. Varka frees one of your hands, carefully sliding the ring onto your finger.

“There, took a couple of tries while you were sleeping to get your ring size. Even used dental floss. Perfect fit, huh honey?” “I could have punched you in your sleep.”

“You do kick me sometimes.”

“Because you steal the covers and you sleep on top of me like a bear.”

“Actually, I’m a wolf, you called me the ‘knight of dog’ remember?” He grinned; you flicked his forehead.

“Thank you for the kind reminder Grandmaster.”

“Anytime honey, its what a good fiancé would do.”

As much as you wanted to wipe the grin off his face, Varka rolled himself against you, his hips pressing into the crux of your thighs, your breath hitches. He leaned forward, lips pressing along your neck, kissing along your skin. Finding the spot to make you tremble.

“Now that’s settled, I would like to take time to appreciate my beloved witch, may I?” Like a gentleman he does ask, not that he needed to know. The buzz felt in your lower abdomen was more than enough signal for him to continue, with a quick nod and confirmation, the night would unravel. Like you in his hands.

--

When morning flowed into the room, the light streamed over your sleeping body was a sight only reserved for Varka’s eyes only. An image that made his heart want to skip a beat. You looked at peace; your body was completely relaxed. Your mind off drifting into dreamland, and the ring he picked for you, happily on your finger. It was everything he ever wanted, accompanied by the hickeys along your neck and chest. The bite marks on your shoulders, some on your neck too. They matched along with the red lines framing his biceps and back, all from your hands alone.

Man, he was lucky.

So happy, lucky.

He knew he would probably get up, get you some water, clean a few things up before Durin arrives. But right now, he just wanted to enjoy the stillness. He already was imagining what the others would say when they heard this. He even thought Klee would make a wonderful flower girl. Given that she won’t blow anything up without permission. Plus, it has been a while since Mondstat threw an extravagant wedding for their Grandmaster.

Varka felt like his younger self would be laughing at him, laughing at the mediocrity. When he was younger, he strived for a challenge, glory. Now? He strived to make sure you two shared a roof over your heads. That when you stitch him up, you explain the tombs you wrote eons ago. Like when you let him test (break) one of your automations, powered by his anemo vision. He strived for the days that always ended in warmth and quietness.

Days by the fireplace accompanied by rain on the windows. He wanted every moment to have that feeling in his chest. Now, this is still Varka, he still wants to protect and serve Mondstat. He still wants to keep doing all the things he loves, sparring, training, exploring. But now, instead of an empty home to come back to, or dread to come back to.

He can forever come back to you.