#But it’s still talking with strangers which seems to give me a buzz

[crowley1990]

I’ve now had two serendipitous really lovely chance encounters with a stranger the last two times I was in London where I ended up sitting next to someone and then having a great chat with them for like an hour and it was just so nice and really gave me a high and I think this is my sign to start going on dates

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Study Buddy 2

Warnings: this series will include dark elements which may include bullying, noncon or dubcon, or violent behaviour. Mind the warnings.

Summary: a group project leads to a tense partnership.

Character: Walter Marshall

Big thanks to those who read! Feedback always helps inspire and you know I’m always happy to chat about possibilities! Please reblog and comment ❤️

You breeze through the book to your own surprise. Between your other classes and your part-time gig down at the shop, you make quick work of it. You sit to transcribe the notes you made by hand into the doc as your phone buzzes.

‘Should start writing. I can meet tomorrow.’

The message is as blunt as anything else he’s said to you. Your brief first meeting with Walter still sticks in your head. You look back to the document and see another cursor in the doc. Your words are backspaced and reworded before you. You sigh. It’s going to be one of those projects.

‘Sure. I work til 2. Library?’

You put your phone down again and ignore the edits as you continue to input your notes. You don’t know why you’re doing any of it. He seems intent on doing it all himself.

Buzz. You flip your cell and cup your chin as you read the screen. ‘Can’t make it there. Daughter’s sick. Meet me here.’

Here? As in his home? That’s a lot.

You don't get it. He suggested tomorrow then just as quickly pulls the rug out. It's like every answer you have is wrong.

‘Don't work day after.’

‘Tomorrow after 2 is fine. I'll send address.’

That's it. Even via text, you hear his unbending tone. How can you argue with that punctuation?

You just type OK and leave it be. Maybe you'll get murdered. It would at least be the end of your problems. Of all the group work you’ve ever done, he’s the least compromising person you’ve ever encountered. Usually you’d be happy to let someone else take the lead but something about his demeanour just comes off condescending.

Or maybe that’s your insecurity talking.

You continue your notes in the doc. You notice the other cursor, highlighted green, moving around the page. You try to ignore the changes in real-time being made to your own thoughts. This isn’t going to be easy. At least you’ll be able to say you earned your grade.

💻

It seems a bit reckless to be walking up to stranger’s house. In fact, after reading a thriller about murder, it rings in your head as a very unwise decision. That being said, you have to get this assignment done. It might not be worth your life but what choice do you have?

You compare the house number with the address in your phone. That’s the one. One-half of a faded old duplex. You stride up the narrow walk beside the bushes and climb up the concrete steps. You knock and wait.

You’re exhausted already. You don’t know if you’re ready for this. Work was no fun. It never is. Sorting packages is no glorious deed but it pays.

You wait and go to knock again. The door opens before your knuckles can meet the wood and you nearly rap against the chest of the man behind it. You give a sheepish cringe and rescind your hand.

“Uh, hi,” you utter awkwardly.

“Mm, hey,” Walter responds, “come on.”

He checks his watch as he backs up. It’s almost three. The buses were clogged down in the city’s core and you missed your connection to his neighbourhood. He probably wouldn’t care that you walked two blocks just to make up for the change in commute.

You step inside as he stands against the door. It’s a tight squeeze. You can smell the woodsy hint of his cologne as you brush by him. You stay on the mat and lift your foot to untie your boot with one hand. You waver as he sidles by you and switch feet. You leave the worn treads by the door.

He looks to his left and you see the hooks mounted on the wall, jackets already hung there. You take the hint and put yours with them. You swipe your bag back up and follow him down the entryway and through the second door on your left.

The kitchen is lit with an amber hue, the glass shade of the ceiling light lending a soft tint to the space. He points you to the round table across from the apron of the counter and you claim a chair quietly. You peer around curiously as he marches to the counter.

He doesn’t say a word as he fills a navy blue mug. You bop your foot under the table. You feel like you’re disturbing him but this was his idea.

“Coffee?” He asks. At least he’s kind enough to ask.

“Um, no, thanks,” you wilt out, “I’m all good.”

You reach to your bag to distract yourself. You open up your laptop as you put it on the table. He sits heavily to your right, his cup clunking down onto the wood. He drags over the notebook with loose leaves tucked between the pages.

“You mind typing?” He asks, “I’m no good with the small keys.”

“Sure, uh, let me just open up the notes...” you swirl your fingers around the touchpad as he exhales. Each breath sounds exasperated.

��You’re not one of those,” he wonders, “no coffee? What, you don’t like caffeine?”

“Um, well, I have one coffee in the morning but I don’t drink it after noon or my head hurts.”

“Mmm,” he hums flatly, “too bad.”

He lifts his cup and gulps again, elbows on the table as he hovers the mug between his hands. He seems like that type. No sleep, only coffee. It might explain his general demeanour.

“So, I’ll just make a second doc where we can put our draft,” you explain to another one of his rocky grumbles.

You hear something hoarser from down the hall. Coughing followed by horrid hacking. Then a moan as a door opens.

“Dad,” the thin voice wafts down ahead of the girl. She’s maybe fifteen, a blanket around her shoulders, as her reddened nose offers the only colour in her drawn face, “I need more cough syrup.”

“Faye,” he stands, his cup hitting the table just as harshly as before. “Go back to bed.”

“My head hurts,” she whimpers.

He stalks over to meet her by the fridge, “I know, sweetheart,” his softened tone surprises you, “go lay down and I’ll bring you some tea.” He opens the fridge and takes out a dark brown bottle, “here.” He hands her the syrup and she sniffles. He pats her arm gently, “don’t get me sick, kid.”

Her glazes eyes flit towards you as you sit with your hands over the keyboard. You look away meekly, caught.

“Who’s that, dad?” She asks.

“Schoolwork,” he gives the terse answer, “group project.”

“Oh,” she lets out the single syllable before she devolves back into a coughing fit.

“Lay down,” he demands.

As she retreats, he turns back and crosses to the counter. He flicks on the kettle and faces you, glaring over at you.

“Just a minute,” he says.

“Take your time,” you return gently, “she’s in rough shape.”

“Mm,” he rumbles, “I’m sure she doesn’t mind the time off school.”

[little-diable]

For Valhalla – Spencer Reid (smut)

Trying to pull myself out of my writing slump by writing history inspired stuff. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: Reader helps Spencer with understanding the medieval norse warrior mindset, which finally pushes the two friends closer together.

Warnings: 18+, smut, piv, spanking, dom!Spencer, some mirror action, friends to lovers, some history talk about medieval wars and fighting

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!historian!reader (2.3k words)

“Careful.” Her whispers filled the dimly lit training room, eyes concentrated on his nimble fingers. She watched Spencer tighten his grip on the hilt of her sword, knuckles almost white. “Widen your stance a bit.”

“Even wider?” Spencer’s eyes were burning holes into her skin, waiting for her next command. He wasn’t one for holding back, and could barely contain his information-dumping urges, but with her it was different. This was (y/n)’s field of expertise, the only one he could blindly trust with a situation this delicate. 

“Can I touch you to show you how?” The two had known one another since their university days, sharing every break, and every meal with one another, until they had eventually shared an apartment for a while. Something had always buzzed between them, something both had been too scared to give in to back then.

Something that was still buzzing now, all these years later.

“Yes.” Their eyes met as Spencer spoke the word, leaving her to swallow heavily. (Y/n) was no stranger to Spencer’s struggles with being touched, and yet his willingness to be touched by her weighed heavier than either one of them liked to admit. 

Slowly, (y/n) placed herself behind Spencer. With one hand placed on his right shoulder and the other on his waist, she gently kicked his feet apart. She felt him sink into the warrior stance, trying to make room for the mindset their current unsub was undoubtedly trapped in. 

“Perfect,” (y/n) whispered. “Now I want you to close your eyes. If your unsub is thinking of himself as a Norðmaðr, a man from the North, or a Viking as others called them, he must protect his sword at every cost. Some believe a warrior could only enter Valhalla if they held onto their sword while dying. It’s an old lore we don’t have many sources on, but judging your unsub I’d say he is focused on things he saw in shows or games. Try to imagine yourself on a battlefield. It was loud, you’d hear cries, the sounds of horses, of swords and axes clashing. You’d smell blood, perhaps some rain depending on the month. Sweat would cling to you, and dirt, soil or mud.” 

“That sounds like my nightmare.” Both broke out in chuckles as (y/n) let go of Spencer almost reluctantly. She watched him move, handling the sword like she had demonstrated for the past hour. He wasn’t nearly as graceful as she was, and yet he managed to copy her movements perfectly. 

“What do you think he tries to live out with this?” Asking questions about his cases had always been a struggle, Spencer would either be very vague or simply tell (y/n) that he couldn’t share any information. But today it was different, today she was part of their team, at least for a few hours, as a historian, a consultant to try and help them find their unsub. 

“Pent up anger, frustration, and yet he is trying to be honourable with his killings, he feels like a Viking after all.” A hum left her at his reply. This time (y/n) didn’t ask for permission as she stepped towards Spencer once again. 

“Let’s try something.” She reached for the sword he was gripping. (Y/n) took her stance, making it seem all too effortlessly, “Stand behind me, place your hands on top of mine.”

It took Spencer a moment to snap into motion, he exhaled before he followed the command. Gently, he placed his warm hand on top of (y/n)’s, shooting shudders down her spine with the simple touch. An all too familiar electricity was binding the two closer together, wrapping itself around them as if it were some kind of invisible force managing to guide the two.

“It’s a simple movement, but it takes a lot of strength to make the sword move as effectively and quickly as this.” Spencer tried to focus on (y/n)’s words, but he couldn’t, too taken up by her unfamiliar closeness. His body was taken over by whatever he had tried to suppress these past years, forcing him even closer to her. “Spencer? Are you alright?”

No word left him as he tightened his grip on her hand. Spencer could almost hear her heart racing in her chest, pounding against her ribcage as if it was begging to be freed. And who was he to deny such a strong muscle such a strong wish? 

His lips found the exposed spot where her shoulder met her neck, kissing it as if they had done this numerous times before. Both froze at the unfamiliar touch, giving the inferno starting to stretch itself through the two enough room to grow. She shuddered in his grasp, trying to stop herself from dropping the sword to turn around towards Spencer.

“Spence,” (y/n) choked on his nickname as he pressed another kiss to her soft skin. “What are you doing?”

“What I should have done years ago.” Perhaps it had taken some convincing from his friends, urging him to finally cross that invisible line between him and (y/n). And as much as Spencer had tried to ignore their pestering selves when it came to (y/n) and him, he hadn’t been able to drown them out completely, forced to accept his feelings for his friend. 

(Y/n) pushed herself away from him, forcing Spencer to panic for a second. He watched her place the sword down, only to turn fully towards him. Their eyes held contact, wordlessly communicating with their hearts on their tongues and their adrenaline spiking. 

Neither of them knew who moved first, but while their eyes held contact, their bodies crossed the small distance between them, letting their lips clash together. Their eyes fluttered close, hands holding onto one another while their lips moved in sync. They were eager, desperate to explore their newfound territory as if it was their only chance at doing this.

Their road to Valhalla, the last battle to fight before calmness could swap through them. 

Spencer moved them backwards, pressing (y/n) against the wall as his tongue ran along her lower lip, begging for entrance. The kiss left the two drowning in their longings, forgetting how to breathe as they finally got to experience what they had been dreaming of. It felt surreal almost – if it weren’t for their racing hearts and their excitement flushing through them. 

“Can I?” He mumbled his question against her lips, giving the two a moment to catch their breaths. Spencer’s fingers tugged on the fabric of her loose shirt, waiting for her consent before he got to explore her body. Ever since he had been forced to talk about his feelings to his team members, he had tried to picture this moment, praying that he wouldn’t mess this up, that his nervousness wouldn’t push him away from her. But now he felt awfully calm, set on touching her, on making her feel the same excitement he was held hostage by. 

“Of course, Spence.” Their eyes met as he pulled the shirt over her head, sports bra following seconds later. (Y/n) felt exposed, fighting against the need to cover herself up as his twinkling eyes studied her soft skin, shooting her a gaze that made heat pool between her thighs. 

Spencer was careful with his touches, cupping her breasts with his warm hands as his mouth found her throat. He kissed his way down to her chest as if he was mapping her body with his kisses, remembering every inch, every mark, forever ingrained into his racing mind. She was trembling against him, allowing her hands to move to his button up, needing to uncovering his body to distract herself from her nervousness. 

“You’re so perfect, I should have done this before. I am sorry it took me this long.” His whispers left her gasping, arching against his hold as his mouth found her left breast, sucking on the hardening nipple. 

“I don’t know if I can forgive you for that,” it was nothing but teasing, and yet the words got stuck in her throat as he let go of her, staring down at (y/n) with something dangerous twinkling in his eyes.

Spencer looked at her for a handful of seconds before he turned her around, allowing (y/n) to catch her reflection in the mirror he had pressed her against. Her pupils were dilated, she was heavily breathing, hair slightly tousled. But (y/n) didn’t get any time to speak up, to comment on what she was seeing. 

His eyes found hers in the mirror as he pulled her sweatpants down her legs, letting his hand brush over her panties-clad behind. (Y/n) could only choke on her gasp as he raised his hand, letting it come down on her warm skin a second later. The sound of Spencer spanking her echoed through the room, followed by a soft moan clawing through (y/n). 

“Let me promise you something, sweetheart,” Spencer murmured his words while his hand brushed over the spot he had just spanked. “I’ll fuck that attitude right out of your system.” 

Another spank met her behind, and another, till her eyes fell shut and her sweaty palms struggled to stay pressed against the mirror. Arousal was dripping from her tightness, clinging to her inner thighs, telling Spencer everything he needed to know. She was just as desperate for him, begging to be finally fucked, pushed over the edge by the tall profiler who had always been her closest friend, the one she clung to, the one she dreamt of. 

“I don’t have anything on me.” His words ripped her out of her hazy thoughts, having to blink a few times as she tried to find her words. 

“I’m on the pill, and I’m clean.” (Y/n) watched his tongue dart out, licking along his lower lip as he pondered over her words. She knew Spencer got monthly tests, knew that she could blindly trust him, but knowing that she was about to feel him bare filled her with something raw simmering inside of her, something possessive almost. Only as the sound of Spencer undoing his trousers rang in her ears did she allow herself to close her eyes once again, having to collect herself. This was finally happening, something she had dreamt of, something she had never dared to even speak about. 

“I want you to look at me while I fuck you.” His raspy voice buzzed through (y/n), forcing another moan out of her. They held eye contact as Spencer spat into his palm, lubed himself up, and finally pushed into her. A moan clawed through them in unison, needing a few moments to adjust before he began to fuck her from behind. 

Spencer had a tight grip on her waist, set on leaving marks as he fucked her ruthlessly, hitting the spot that made her toes curl with every thrust. Both were a moaning mess, chasing their needs, the deep urges they finally got to live out, while studying one another through the mirror. 

(Y/n) struggled to form words, struggled to comment on what she was seeing, fully entranced by the sight. She already looked thoroughly fucked out, close to giving in after only a few moments. But something was binding them together, a sensation so strong it felt as if they were fighting for Valhalla, fighting for entry into the afterlife they were oh so close to. 

“Spencer,” (y/n) moaned his name, she tried to push herself further into his touch, needing to be even closer to the man who was about to push her orgasm through her aching body. “You feel so good, fuck, I never want to be fucked by somebody else.”

It was a sincere confession, words that left the profiler smirking in success. He leaned forward to press a kiss to her shoulder, letting his teeth graze her skin to leave another mark to remind (y/n) that she was now his, a part of his body and soul. 

“As if I’d ever let you go again. No other man will ever get to touch you.” His words dripped with possessiveness, words that made her walls clench around his cock. (Y/n) couldn’t stop her eyes from fluttering close as his fingertips found her pulsing bundle, circling it with enough pressure to push her into her high. 

She moaned for him as she came, unable to stop the sounds from leaving her while Spencer kept fucking her. Their bodies kept meeting, even faster than before, forcing (y/n) to realise that she’d struggle with walking for the next days. Only as Spencer pulled out of her to paint her aching behind white did she open her eyes again. 

“That was,” she panted her words, not daring to move as Spencer kept smirking at her through the mirror. “Fuck, that was intense.”

“I love you.” The words clawed through Spencer as if he hadn’t given them much thought, speaking them all too effortlessly. (Y/n) froze for a second or two before she gave room to the soft chuckle desperate to leave her. 

“I love you too, Spence.” Perhaps they were Valhalla-bound after all, set on living together in every life offered to them. 

[shinkaeru]

In Another Universe...

Andrew Marston × Reader (gender neutral!reader)

✪ What if you didn't give Andrew an answer after you and him broke up? (2.9k words)

A/N: I haven't written anything for 2 yrs so writing this was experimental for me. Hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did!

×××

A few years have passed since you graduated from university, you were already working as a book editor in a well-known book publishing house in London and earning a salary good enough to live independently. 

Lately, all you‘ve ever thought about was work, work, and more work, to the point you might've just grown a few more gray hairs from all the stress and sleepless nights. You've always focused on finishing all your projects first before anything else, only because you didn't have anything else to do.

“She goes back to the place where her lover once promised to see her. As hours went by, nobody came to find her, leaving her in distraught. She realizes in the universe she woke up to, her lover's fate led up to something else.” You read out loud as you write down corrections and suggestions of your client's manuscript of their book.

While you are scribbling away, engrossed by what you're doing, you hear your phone buzz causing you to glance at it for a brief moment. Out of curiosity, you decide to pick it up to see what it is—It turns out to be a text from your former classmate at university. 

“Hey! It's been a while. Do you wanna come hangout with us this Saturday night?” The text says. 

You take a sip of coffee, thinking to yourself: Do I still have time for this? It's not like I have anything scheduled for the weekend. You lean back on your chair, resting a hand on your chin. I guess I can afford taking a break for once. 

“Yeah sure! Where and what time do we meet?” You hit send and waited for your friend to respond. 

Besides, it wouldn't hurt to meet up with your friends from university after so long. Man though, has it really been 3 years already since we graduated? You thought to yourself. 

It seems ever since you graduated, you never looked back from your past and continued pursuing your personal endeavors. 

As you are about to set your phone down on the desk, your phone buzzes once more. 

“Let's meet up at 6pm yeah? I'll send you the location in a bit. Seeya!”

× 

It's exactly six 'o'clock in the evening, you've arrived at the bar your friends have planned to meet up at. As you walk inside, you hear smooth jazz music playing faintly while crowds of people mingle and chat. 

You look around the place, hoping to spot at least one or two of your friends already sitting down with a drink in their hand. Going to such social places as bars like this was considered a rare occasion for you since the last time you’ve ever been to one was when you were in your first year at university. The thought of trying to talk to strangers was nerve-wracking enough for you that it makes you wish you’d be home in isolation until now. 

As you are about to approach the very corner of the bar, you hear your friend’s voice calling your name on the other side of the bar. 

“I’m not late, am I?” I asked as I sat next to my friend while she pulled a pail filled with bottles of beer. 

“Not at all, all of us just arrived.” My friend hands me over the drink while two of our friends were talking about a different topic. She sips on her beer then pulls me into a welcoming hug, calling me by my old nickname. “Pea, it’s been like ages since all of us last saw you! I missed you so much.”  

“Yeah, we haven’t even heard from you that much either. You don’t really go online nowadays.” He adds.  

“I’ve just been caught up with work really.” You respond, taking a sip of the liquor from your glass. “How about you Coconut Man? How have you been?” A chuckle escapes from your lips as the memory of how you and your friends got their nicknames, which was from a Jessie J song that was stuck in your head at one point. 

“I flew back here to get my master's degree in literature. Decided one day that I kinda wanna venture into teaching it too, you know?” He shakes his head with a smile plastered on his face. “Moonhead here was talking earlier about getting into Journalism.” To which, they shrugged off his remarks and laughed. 

“I mean, yeah. I got into this job where we write articles about other musicians, music reviews, live concerts—music journalism basically.” They sip on their drink. “So far, it’s been fun. Sometimes, we even get free tickets to like, music festivals and shit.” 

“You two certainly have something interesting going on with your lives, huh?” You smiled, feeling genuinely happy that your friends have achieved the goals that they have worked hard for all these years.  

“Oh! I also have some news to share!” She gleams with excitement as she tries to hold the grin on her face. “My boyfriend and I just got engaged this week.” She showed the ring on her finger, making everyone at our table cheer while I clapped along to her announcement. 

“Wow, you’re getting married already? Congratulations!” You greet your friend, which made you realize for a moment that you were finally at the time of your life when your friends would get married to their partners. Holy shit, am I really getting that old? You thought to yourself. You could even say you could feel your bones cracking just from the thought. 

“Honestly, that’s one of the reasons why I invited you guys here. My partner and I were already planning out on who we’ll be inviting to our wedding, so I thought about you three.” She sighs. “We’ve all just...grown apart since we graduated. We should all at least hang out some time again.” 

Moonhead adjusts their position from their seat. “You know what speaking of wanting to teach, Pea, have you ever gotten the chance to speak to Professor Marston yet after the uh...whole thing going on between the two of you?” 

Your heart sinks as the thought crosses your mind. Ever since the night Andrew went to your place to address the situation at hand, you haven’t given him an answer out of concern for his career and reputation. You’ve kept your distance since you’ve graduated, which pains you deeply. 

“I haven’t had any news about Andrew to be honest,” You shrug. This information puts your friends in disbelief, which you find a bit amusing. They’ve always supported your relationship with Andrew during those first few months and defended you when rumors started to spread around campus. 

“You...you don’t talk to him anymore?” Her gleeful expression turns serious. “No greetings, no updates, nothing at all?” 

“Well, I still have his number and his email address, but I haven’t reached out to him since his classes ended.” You reply. “Besides you know how he is, he doesn’t really have any social media presence so haven’t heard anything about him since." 

“Both of you did come to terms, right?” He asks, to which you nod in response. “Damn, I thought you guys would be endgame you know? That kinda sucks.” 

“Right? Like, we’ve seen the way he looks at you and it was clear as day that he’s just smitten over you.” She lets out a sigh. “Well, as they always say: there’s plenty of fish in the sea.” 

As minutes passed, you and your friends continued talking about the memories you all shared during university and all the things they experienced after we graduated. Sipping halfway on your second bottle of beer, you feel yourself slowly spacing out, struggling to engage in your friends’ conversation. You aren’t drunk but you are aware enough to be tipsy. 

You look around the bar, seeing people clanking their drinks and laughing away through the night couples with their hands intertwined to each other. Despite reuniting with your friends, clearly, you’re starting to realize that this is getting boring and the idea of going home early sounds like a good idea. 

“Pea!” You snap out of your thoughts as you hear your friend call your name. 

“Huh?” 

“Are you okay? You look out of it.” Moonhead says. You nod your head, trying to think of an excuse to get some time for yourself for just a moment. 

“I need to go to the restroom for a moment…” You stand up and placed your drink down at the table. “…excuse me.” 

As you got to the bar’s restroom, you shut the door and took a breather on the sink. The more you stay inside the cozy restroom by the minute, the more you start to consider that going home is the best option.  

You let out a sigh, thinking if going home would be a good idea, especially since it has only been an hour since you arrived. 

After a moment of contemplating and pacing, you decide to stay for a few more minutes so that leaving wouldn’t feel awkward. 

“Yeah, I’ll do that.” You thought to yourself out loud then unlocked the door open. 

While you were about to approach your friends’ table, you heard a distinct voice coming from the bar’s counter. 

“A glass of whiskey please,” he says. You turn to see a familiar figure sitting near the counter isolated from the buzzing people. His hair fixed properly, his glasses reflecting the warm lights in the room, his attire styled in a particular manner… 

No—it cannot be who I think it is, is it? You thought to yourself.  

As you come closer, you feel your heartbeat beating every step you take. 

“Andrew?” 

He turns around and looks at me, his gaze softens at you. “It’s you.” 

You end up cracking a smile as waves of different emotions washed over you. “May I sit?”  

“Please,” He gestures, making me sit beside him while he sips on his drink. “Would you like a drink?” 

“No, I think I’ve had enough alcohol for tonight.” I chuckle while he does the same. “It’s…It’s been a while,” 

Andrew nods before taking another sip. “It has.” He puts his glass down. “Well, this is an unexpected kind of setting for us to see each other again.” 

“Yeah.” You start to fidget your hands as you feel your palms start to sweat. “You come here often?” You ask. 

“Oh no, it’s my first time being here so I decided to come here by myself.” He takes the last sip of his drink and sets aside the empty glass.

Worried that I might be interfering, I hesitantly ask...“Did you bring someone with you?”

“No, it's just me.” He chuckles. “I should be asking you the same thing, what brings you here?”

“My friends invited me here to catch up and chat.” You shrug to which Andrew nods in response.

“Friends from university?”

“Yeah actually,” You glance at your friends' table, looking unfazed by your disappearance as they laugh on their seats.

“It's good to know that you still keep in touch with them,” Andrew watches them along with you.

Should I say how I feel?

The thoughts inside your head go back and forth, contemplating whether talking about the night he last visited your place was worth mentioning.

Andrew notices the confused look on your face, making him concerned. “Is something on your mind?”

“There is, actually,” You respond immediately, deciding not to hold back. Andrew's expression became serious.

“What's on your mind?” Andrew asks.

Before you could respond to Andrew, you notice your friends watching over us with grins plastered on their faces. They mouth “Go” and “We'll be fine” gesturing to go for it.

“Would you like to talk about it somewhere private?” As Andrew was about to face your friends' direction, they immediately turn away and hid themselves with muffled laughs.

“Sure,” We both got up from our seats and headed our way towards the bar's exit.

As you and Andrew got out of the place, both of you walked further away from the bar to be somewhere quiet.

Andrew stands across from you as he waits patiently for you to speak.

You let out a sigh. “I'm sorry if this is a bad time but...”

“No, this isn't a bad time at all.” Andrew shakes his head as he steps closer. “Take your time.”

“I never got to reach out to you since I left.”

“I already told you I will always support you whatever decision you choose.”

“It's not that, Andrew...” Your voice starts to tremble as your emotions start to hit you like a truck. “I never got to tell you because I didn't want to be a burden to your job as a professor. I understand what that means to you, and...” Before you could continue your sentence, tears form from your eyes trickling down to your cheeks.

“You are never a burden to me,” Andrew shushes as he pulls you into his arms, causing you to cry even more. “I don't regret the things we have done in the past, and I certainly don't regret choosing to love you.” He pulls away, cupping your face to wipe your tears from your cheeks

“I'm sorry,” You let out a chuckle as your lips quiver. You have always reenacted in your head what it would be like meeting Andrew when you get the chance, crying in front of him was definitely not what you had in mind.

Andrew pulls you back into his arms while your emotions kept overflowing. Both of you stay that way, feeling a sense of comfort enveloped by his warmth despite the cold breeze. The memories you used to share with him are coming back to you.

“Feeling better?” Andrew asks.

“Mhm,” You pull away from him as you start to collect yourself. “I didn't mean to soak your coat with my tears.”

Andrew chuckles. “No need to feel ashamed,”

“Okay,” You take a deep breath, finding the words you've been wanting to say. “I thought that once that I graduate from university, I would move on and find someone else that gave me the same feeling that I had with you. I waited for weeks, months, hoping that it would happen one day but…” you look into his eyes, almost getting lost in them. “…At the end of the day, everything always comes back to you.”

“Darling…”

“I still want you, Andrew.” You declare, shaking your head as you crack a smile. “After all these years, it's still you that I long for.”

Andrew stands still speechless, his gaze still focused on yours. The way he's looking at you makes you reminisce of that day—that day when he first kissed you, when he shared those moments with you back in his office, when he gave himself in to hold your hand, everything—it all comes back to you that you immediately look away as you start to feel overwhelmed.

“I apologize for being too forward,” You look down on your shoes. “I thought it would be a better time to give you, both of us, closure than saying nothing at all.”

Andrew intertwines his hand to yours, making your heartbeat rise rapidly.

“Darling,” he gently squeezes your hand as your calm demeanor tarnishes in an instant. “Look at me…”

As a sob escapes from your lips, you follow his request. Andrew comes closer to the point you can feel his breath on yours, lifting your chin with his thumb.

And before you knew it, Andrew leans in as he presses his lips to yours. The spark you thought once lost ignites like a burning flame. You kiss back, sharing your warmth with his. It almost feels as if nothing has changed at all. The ache you felt all those years of longing seem to have washed away by the minute.

As both of you pull away, Andrew looks at you once more. His gaze radiating love and comfort. You suddenly don't even remember how to speak, making Andrew grin as he fixes your hair.

“I never stopped loving you, and frankly, I never will.” Andrew kisses your hand that's still intertwined with his. "I meant it when I said I've never felt like this with anyone until I met you." You start to tear up again as his words felt like a tug to your heartstrings.

“Do you think…do you think we can still figure things out? Together?” You've become completely vulnerable towards him. Normally the thought of yourself begging (or asking for that matter) for someone cringes you, yet here you are doing it anywag. You already prepared yourself for the worst, so you held your breath.

Andrew notices your hesitation and holds both of your hands. “We will, together.” I wrap my arms around him, feeling like my heart was about to come out of my chest.

“I missed you…so much.” You confess, making Andrew chuckle at the sight of you.

“I'm here now,” he kisses your forehead and smiles. “And I'm not going anywhere.” Both of you slightly sway as your arms were wrapped around each other's bodies.

A thought comes to your head, giving you a chuckle. “I wonder how crazy it would be what our relationship would be like if we were in the alternate universe,”

Andrew laughs at the idea you gave. “If there ever was an alternate universe, I suppose whatever path we take, it is inevitable for both of us to be together.”

“You think so?”

“Mhm, I do.”

×××

[suppose-i-was-worm]

Like the Beat of a Drum pt 2

**I'm not entirely happy about this, and have NO clue where it's going next, but we'll see!**

The Red Hood clocked Danny as not all he seemed as soon as they were alone together. After some negotiation (Danny threatening to vanish into thin air and Hood threatening to tell Red Robin), they came to a consensus.

Danny would be in human form unless one of the other bats were around, and Hood would keep his big mouth shut.

“No spooky supernatural stuff in my borough, kid.”

Danny decided not to tell the other man that he himself had a fair bit of spooky supernatural stuff going on.

He should probably keep an eye on that- Corrupted ectoplasm was never a good thing, and Red Hood was crawling with it.

Living in Crime Alley was easy. Hood had put him up in a dingy little apartment, fully stocked with anything he might need- and no surveillance equipment. Danny had checked. He spent his time while he finished the healing process taking the toaster apart. And the microwave.

Hood visited while he was arms deep in the oven and put a kibosh on larger appliances, but he started bringing small broken appliances around for Danny to fix. It was nice, having another undead hanging around. Someone who understood the constant itch under Danny’s skin to keep moving, keep working, keep reminding himself he was alive.

He even was finally able to see his soulmark! It was a name, somebody called Timothy Drake-Wayne. Hood had seen it and made some sort of choking noise, and when Danny asked, he was told that Drake-Wayne was publicly markless. Weird.

Danny was pleased that the wounds to the area had healed completely though, not marring the text at all.

The wound on his chest, not so much. It stood out, inflamed and sore against his otherwise pale chest. Its presence reminded him a little of the lichtenberg scars that crawled down his arms in his ghost form.

Maybe the Drs. Fenton had somehow killed him again, and now he was a halfa twice over? This was his penance, he supposed, for trusting them after everything.

~~~

Tim’s favorite coffee shop was packed, save for one table with a lone occupant. Once he’d gotten his deathwish coffee, he made his way over to the table.

“Excuse me, do you mind if I-“

The table’s occupant, a young man with dark hair and piercing blue eyes, nodded toward the other chair before Tim could finish his sentence.

“Feel free, man. It’s a busy day today.”

Tim couldn’t help but wonder where he’d seen the other before- his face was familiar in a strange way, and he felt- he felt surprisingly attracted.

His soulmate heartbeat thing had been unusually quiet since the night Phantom arrived, whereas before it sounded loud and clear in his head at least a few times a day and long into the night.

He was allowed to talk to cute people while his soulmate was still young, right?

“Spend a lot of time here?”

The stranger shrugged.

“Here and there. Haven’t run into you before, which I think I would have noticed. I’m Danny, by the way.”

Tim didn’t think much of the name. This young man was far too old to be his Daniel.

“Nice to meet you, Danny. I’m Tim.”

He reached out a hand, and Danny shook it firmly, giving him an odd look that quickly passed.

The two of them sat and chatted for a while, and Tim found himself wondering how he’d missed this person around Gotham- he was well spoken with a soft accent, whip smart, and gorgeous.

Tim’s watch buzzed, reminding him he had a meeting- he could have sworn he had two hours between his coffee run and his meeting, but perhaps he’d been chatting too long.

“Shit! I have to go- it was nice meeting you!”

He chugged the rest of his now-cold coffee and darted out of the coffee shop.

It wasn’t until after the shareholder’s meeting that he realized he hadn’t asked for Danny’s number.

~~~

“Hood!”

Jason looked up from his desk as his office door was flung open, and then watched in amusement as Danny scrambled out of the grasp of the goon trying to pull him away.

“Sorry Boss, he slipped by us! I’ll- OW! He bites!”

“Stand down, Marcus, he’s a friend. Head over to medical if you need to- the little shit’s feral.”

Grumbling, the goon let go of a smug looking Danny and made his way to the other door while Danny swanned into the office and made himself comfortable on Hood’s guest chairs.

“How did you find this place?”

Shrugging, the kid pretended to inspect his nails.

“You know, just followed the scent of daddy issues and rancid ectoplasm- not hard. Didn’t peg you for the office type, though.”

Jason leaned back, crossing his arms.

“What do you want.”

“Timothy Drake-Wayne is Red Robin, yes?”

Trying to keep his posture casual and unconcerned, Jason tilted his head.

“What makes you say that?”

“I met a guy named Tim at the coffee shop and he’s got the same ghosts as Red Robin.”

Danny slapped a newspaper down on the desk between them- the cover page was Tim, looking very CEO and businesslike.

Jason was pretty sure Tim and Danny would get along like a house on fire, if Danny had already figured him out.

“Also, I felt his heartbeat when we shook hands and it matches the beat of my soul.”

Pausing, Jason parsed the information he now had about Danny.

“Wait, you can see ghosts that follow people?”

“You can’t?”

Jason stared incredulously at Danny for a few beats, and then the younger man sighed.

“Right. Your ecto is all screwy. Remind me to fix that. Yeah, I see ghosts attached to people- not everyone has them, and not all of the ghosts are actually, you know, dead people, but yeah. I don’t normally think about them because they’re everywhere, but same ghosts often equal same person.”

Danny slumped further into the chair after he finished talking, letting out a small whine.

“What now?”

“Jason, he’s cute.”

With a sigh, Jason pointed over at the newest handful of appliances he needed Danny to fix for the residents of Crime Alley.

“Take that and get out of my office.”

~~~

“Timberly~”

Tim sighed and let his pen drop- if Jason was here and looking for him, he probably wouldn’t get much work done. Not that he was getting work done now- balancing a pen on his nose wasn’t really work.

Jason rounded the batcomputer, idly tossing his helmet from one hand to another, a massive grin stretching across his face. It was a scheming face, a face that said he knew something Tim didn’t, and Tim hated not knowing things.

“What.”

Jason’s grin stretched wider.

“You’ve been keeping secrets!”

With a sigh, Tim turned his attention to the computer. Of course he kept secrets- the entire family had secrets. Hell, the secrets that the entire family kept probably also kept secrets.

Undeterred, Jason shoved his head (read: his entire upper body) in between Tim and the computer.

“So, where is it?”

Tim raised an eyebrow at the other man, hoping he looked as judgmental as he felt.

“Where is what, Jason? My spleen?”

The grin on Jason’s face faltered for a moment before returning with full force.

“Your soulmark!”

The weights Dick had been working with in the training area hit the floor with a loud thump, and Tim could only assume their oldest brother was storming over to berate Jason.

“Jason!”

Heh. He was right.

Jason pulled away, grabbing the arm of Tim’s chair and dragging him along to be a human shield as Dick approached.

“Nu-uh, Dickie- I’ve got good info, here. Timmy has been hiding his entire soul from us!”

Tim would like it to go on record that he hated everything, everyone, and especially Jason. He tuned out Dick’s raised voice and Jason’s responses, trying to figure out how the other could have found out.

He almost always kept the patch on- it’s not like a civilian camera could have caught him without. Even when he took the patch off to wash or to tend a nearby wound, he made sure to do it in his Nest without any recording devices nearby.

The only way Jason could have- Maybe he’d met Daniel and seen Tim’s name? Some poor kid down in Crime Alley? A four year old at best. Eurgh.

He tuned back into the still heated conversation.

“-kindness isn’t hard Jason, and you can’t just use the excuse that we’re siblings to bully Tim for being markless! I never thought you had it in you, you-“

“It’s under my sternum. How’d you find out?”

Dick’s tirade stopped short as Tim answered, his mouth dropping open comically. Jason pumped his fist triumphantly.

“You handed him to me on a silver platter, Timbo.”

Tim did not gape, that would be unbecoming and Janet Drake would never allow a son of hers to be unbecoming.

“I’m sorry?”

Jason grinned, an evil, evil grin.

“Daniel Fenton. You gave his case to me.”

“Case?”

Dick’s voice was high and reedy, and Tim looked over to see that he was looking distressed and probably a little faint.

Jason snickered. Rude.

“I do not have a case for my soulmate.”

Jason snickered again, and pointed at the batcomputer.

“Then what’s that?”

Both Dick and Tim turned to look- it was just the file on Phantom- but by the time they turned around again, Jason was roaring out of the cave on his bike.

Tim flipped him off, just because he could.

Dick collected himself before Tim did, whirling to face him and yanking Tim’s shirt up before desperately scraping at the bare skin, trying to find the patch.

With a sigh, Tim pushed Dick’s searching hands away and peeled off the patch himself.

He felt bare without it- completely exposed to his brother’s sharp eyes.

“You never told anyone?”

Shrugging, Tim slapped the patch back on, pulled his shirt down, and turned back to the batcomputer.

“Came in late- didn’t want some poor kid to get saddled with me.”

By the hitch in Dick’s breathing, Tim could tell the older man was about to get sentimental on him, or berate him for talking bad about himself.

This day couldn’t get much worse, could it?

The Arkham escape alarm sounded from both boys’ phones, and Tim sighed yet again. Way to jinx himself.

~~~

Phantom floated invisibly above the Red Hood, filtering away the ectoplasm that rolled off of him in waves as he stood with the other bats.

“Nightwing and Robin, you’re looking for the Joker.”

The ectoplasm spiked at Batman’s growl, and Danny sighed soundlessly. Keeping Jason away from his vengeance was not the right way to go about things.

“You want another dead Robin if they find him?”

“I do not want a dead Joker, Hood, and I know there will be one if I let you after him.”

Red Hood crossed his arms with a snarl, and Phantom settled closer to the man’s shoulders, keeping a steady wave of calm floating from his core.

The beat of his soul was pounding with excitement, and he took a moment to glance over at Red Robin, who was glaring in Red Hood’s direction. Danny couldn’t begin to fathom why.

Once the bats scattered, Phantom brought his head closer to Hood’s. The older boy was muttering mutinously under his helmet.

“What if we found him first?”

Hood’s head shot up to look in Danny’s direction.

“I could help, and then we could go home and finish Jenga.”

“Help do what?”

Danny dropped his invisibility long enough to flash Jason a grin.

“Payback.”

~~~

Red Robin and Spoiler crashed into a warehouse, weapons at the ready, only to find half the rogues they were looking for tied up and watching a fight going on in the center of the room. Tim’s heart was beating a mile-a-minute with adrenaline, and so was his second heartbeat. He had been rushing to find the Joker at least, especially after Red Hood went off comms.

It took him a minute to identify the people in the fight, if it could really be called that. From what he could tell, it was a mostly unilateral beat-down of the Joker by Phantom.

“What the fuck.”

Stephanie was watching with wide eyes from his side, and Tim caught a glance of Jason watching from the other side of the warehouse, helmet off and a green glow about his face.

“We need to get to Hood and make sure he doesn’t do anything.”

Spoiler nodded, but before she could move, a shadow shifted next to Hood and Black Bat slipped from the shadows, putting a hand on the man’s arm. Hood turned his head in her direction, nodded, and then went back to watching the show.

Black Bat stepped away, seeming satisfied with Jason’s response.

Phantom smacked Joker with a backhand slap loud enough to startle Tim, and the psychopathic man went flying back into the wall, crumpling into a heap at the base.

Tim watched as Phantom floated over to Hood, chest heaving despite no sounds of breathing.

“Are you Avenged, Bat of Gotham? Feel it in your Core.”

The greenish glow to Jason’s face flickered and then floated up and away from his face, dispersing in a thin mist.

“I am Avenged, Phantom.”

Phantom landed with a smile.

“See? Killing him wasn’t necessary- just a little beatdown.”

The second heartbeat in Tim’s sternum began to slow as Phantom held out a hand to Red Hood.

Jason took it and shook, smiling grimly.

“Red Robin?”

Spoiler was at his shoulder, but Tim couldn’t tear his eyes away from Phantom’s face.

“Red, we need to get Joker to the hospital.”

Black Bat moved from beside Jason and punched Tim on the shoulder.

“Ask him out.”

Tim startled.

“I- what?”

She made the sign for soulmate discreetly, and Tim felt his face flush. Phantom couldn’t possibly- but then he thought about Jason’s cryptic wording about Tim’s soulmate the other day.

Surely not. Surely.

[alyana-luvs-u]

teddy

bruce banner x avenger!reader

🤎🧸🍂♡

Summary: Bruce is just a big teddy bear with anger issues

word count: 2047

song: love story - taylor swift

🤎🧸🍂♡

The quinjet buzzes with quiet murmurs as you walk tentatively around, eyes glued to your phone. You grunt suddenly as you bump into something, looking up immediately apologetically.

“oh I’m sorry!” a gentle-looking stranger stares at you curiously, before giving you a small, shy smile.

“oh, no it’s all good.” He clears his throat, before sticking his hand out as you pocket your phone, taking in the small details of his thick, black unruly curls which were slightly greying, and the small freckles dotted among his face like stars among the night sky. “Bruce Banner.” You grasp his hand, his large, calloused one enveloping yours like a warm blanket.

“Y/N Y/L/N,” You grin awkwardly, as you stand like that for a few moments, before Bruce glances down and realises he’s still holding your hand. He quickly withdraws it, red flushing from the nape of his neck.

“I, uh,” His nerves are cutely amusing, as you touch his arm, soothing him subtly.

“I’m a big fan of your work Dr Banner.” He grimaces, likely remembering about his green alter ego.

“People say you’re a genius.” Ducking his head, he seems to fold into himself.

“That’s all that people say?” He mumbles, as you reach out an arm, tilting his chin up. Tingles seemed to erupt from where your fingers were placed on his skin, as he stares mesmerised into your eyes.

“That’s all that matters to me.” Your voice is soft and encouraging as you reach out an arm to your new colleague.

“So why did Fury drag you here?” He questions as you begin to walk towards the meeting room, and you chuckle softly, shaking your head.

“I’m enhanced. I have y/p (your powers), and he thinks that’s beneficial, apparently to find the Tesseract.” Bruce smiles down at you, the corner of his eyes crinkling affectionately.

“I think you’ll be a great asset to the team. Have you met the others?” As you turn back, you’re met with the looming shadow of the glass meeting doors. Conversations drift through the door as you swallow nervously.

“I’ve met Tony and Nat before.” The door is pulled open before them and there stands Tony in all his smug glory.

“come in. the meeting is just starting.” He says smirking, eyeing your interlocked arms with mild interest. Flashing the billionare an uncomfortable smile, you step into the room, conversation dying away all eyes turn towards the monitor. You sit at the head of the table, staring down at it as Fury stands menacingly at Loki, who looks nothing less then intruiged as the camera glares into his eyes. Bruce is leaning in, observing intently as Loki begins to speak again, a sneer curling at his lips.

“The mindless beast, makes play he's still a man. How desperate are you, that you call upon such lost creatures to defend you?” Your eyes slowly drift to Bruce.

“How desperate am I? You threaten my world with war. You steal a force you can't hope to control.” Fury spits, walking slowly towards the glass container holding Loki captive.

“You talk about peace and you kill ’cause it's fun. You have made me very desperate. You might not be glad that you did.”

“Ooh. It burns you to come so close. To have the Tesseract, to have power, unlimited power. And for what?” A smirk spreads across his face slowly.

 “A warm light for all mankind to share, and then to be reminded what real power is.” His eyes are cold and calculating, surveying Fury with a superior air.

“Well, you let me know if Real Power wants a magazine or something.” The SHIELD Director says with a scoff, before walking out of the frame. You lean forward, trying to glimpse where he had gone, eyes narrowed as you focus on Loki’s clenched jaw and determined gaze. The screen zips to black as you lean back in your chair as Steve lets out an airy chuckle.

“He really grows on you, doesn’t he?” You remark, turning a sympathetic eye towards Bruce.

“Loki's gonna drag this out. So, Thor, what's his play?” You turn towards the muscly Norse god, eyeing as he simply stands there in stunned silence.

“He has an army called the Chitauri. They're not of Asgard or any world known. He means to lead them against your people. They will win him the earth. In return, I suspect, for the Tesseract.” His booming voice declares, as you shift uncomfortably in your seat.

“An army from outer space?” Steve says incredulously.

“So he’s building another portal. That’s what he needs Eric Selvig for.” Bruce speaks up, removing his glasses. You rub your head, trying to nurse the ache that was building up.

“Okay, I’m too tired for this. Goodbye.” You stand from your chair, flashing Bruce a smile before walking out the door. The breeze is cooler and inviting, as you begin to make your way to the room you were to stay in. As you flop onto the bed, the comforter seems to pull you into the white plush. Kicking off your shoes lazily, you close your eyes, letting sleep pull you under.

“Mummy!” You squeal, chasing her upon your little legs. She turns, her eyes worried as she gasps.

“Darling! Why aren’t you with Daddy! It isn’t safe, you must go now!” Her voice is soft and urgent as she ushers you along. You cross your arms as she picks you up, and begin to cry and kick.

“I don’t want Daddy! I want mummy!” You pout, sniffing miserably as she groans, letting you go. You begin to sob as you hit the ground hard. A thick arm wraps around you as she walks away briskly, not turning her head.

“whose that Lisa?” A sinister voice remarks as you stand still, puffing out your chest.

“I-I’m Y/N Y/L/N.” The man is around thirty, and he gives you an insincere smile, showcasing the rotting teeth that lay in the gums. He turns to your mother, walking towards her menacingly as she seems to cower into herself, pivoting around to face him.

“Well, why didn’t you say you had a daughter? She could be beneficial for the cause!” He says, tilting her chin up as tears begin to stream down her cheeks. You frown. Suddenly, this guy didn’t seem so nice. He seemed mean and scary. He bends down, his hot breath sour in your face.

“P-Please don’t do this! She i-is only 5!” You mother screams as the man picks you up, walking away.

“Don’t worry Lisa, we’ll take great care of her.” Tears dribble into your mouth as you screech as your mother hurries after you. Her heels click against the marbled floors as she runs after the retreating, burly figure.

“Y/N! Y/N!” She yells, sobs caressing her body.

“My baby! Don’t take my baby!” A loud band echoes around the hall before the voice falls silent. Her eyes are widened in shock as she rocks slightly from side to side, before crumpling to the floor, red staining her abdomen. She does not move.

“Mama!” You screech, kicking around upon his shoulder, reaching desperately for your mother.

“shut up you little brat!” the man roars, shaking you as you break down upon his shoulder.

“Mama! Mama!” You wail miserably, as the man rolls his eyes irritably. You make no notice as he shifts you, reaching into his pocket, and pulling out a syringe. It is filled with thick, yellow liquid, the needle point and sharp as he injects it into your neck. Your eyes lull into the back of your head, as you shudder, before sucumbing to the unconciousness.

“hail hydra.” He whispers in your ear.

“rest well little one. You’ll need it.”

You wake up in a sweat, the distant, distraught cries of your mother still echoing in your head. You sit there for a moment, replaying her trembling screams and desperate, frantic grasps for you. You were the reason your mother was dead. Rubbing your eyes, you sat up and slipped out of bed, opening the door and shutting it quietly. Murmurs erupted from the lab as you padded towards it, squinting your eyes, attempting to adjust your eyes to the bright light. All eyes turn to you, as Steve pauses in his step, running a hand down his face. “just…find the cube.” He sighs, giving you a polite nod as he passes. Bruce furrows his eyebrows at you and your drowsy state.

“You should be sleeping.” He says in a concerned tone, absent-mindedly taking a step towards you. You yawn in response, croaking out an answer.

“So should you.” Your voice is raspy and deeper, and Bruce just loves it. He wants to wake up to it every morning, and to hear your sweet little-

“I’ll leave you lovebirds to it.” Tony interrupts Bruce’s spiralling fantasies, who flushes red even though he knows nobody can hear his thoughts. Tony flashes you a lazy smirk, winking.

“Use protection kids.” You groan at the implication as he slips out of the room, whistling merrily in his step and turn to the beet-red doctor in front of you.

“Tony is a pain in the ass.” His throat feels dry, as he merely nods in response.

“so whatcha been up to?” You watch intently as he immedietaly switches into nerd mode, rambling about gamma radiation and physics. Honestly, you don’t understand a word he says, too focused on the way his eyes shine adorably, and his brow crinkles ever so slightly, the way he uses his hands to animate the scenarios.

“And when the light rays come into contact with-” He pauses as you simply stare at him, spaced out, as he panics internally.

“Sorry am I boring you, oh its just nobody asks me about it, and when I’m nervous I start to just talk and I can’t stop-” He blurts, running a hand through his hair frantically. You laugh at his demeanour, smiling at him softly.

“No, it's just, you’re adorable.” He blushes, ducking his head as curls flop onto his forehead.

“You know Bruce, I think Loki’s wrong.” Buce sighs, rubbing his eyes as you tilt your head, taking a step towards him. The tension seemed to crackle in the air, causing anticipating silence to erupt around the empty room.

“How? He was completely right. I am a mindless monster. I’m nothing but dangerous here.” Your brow furrowed as you shook your head slowly. “How can you say that? Bruce,” You stepped forward once, more, so you were face to face with the doctor, touching his cheek tenderly.

“If anything,” You let out a fond chuckle.

“You’re just a big softie,” You grin tenderly, poking his brawny flesh. Bruce scrunches his nose as a little girl would.

“Softie? Me?” He puffs out his chest playfully, crossing his arms. You roll your eyes, smiling.

“Yeah!” You poke out your tongue.

“Like-like,” You pause for a moment, thinking dramatically as you tap a finger to your head.

“A big, soft, plush, teddy bear!” You squeal as he picks you up, his fingers securing onto your waist, levitating you off the ground. Your faces were mere inches apart, your breath fogging up his glasses as time slows, his lashes fluttering slightly. Your cheeks has flushed to a deep red at the close proximity as you fought the edge to squeak.

“still a teddy bear?” His gruff voice rumbles, the vibrations from his chest sending shockwaves throughout your body. You hum, your mouth to dry to form coherent words. Without a word, you lean forward, fingers grasping his chin and tilting his chin up.

“can I kiss you?” He whispers, chocolate eyes boring into yours. His gaze betrays flickers of nervousness and excitement, as you nod slowly. Bringing your lips closer to his, he pauses for a moment, as if double-checking for your confirmation. You groan, before pulling him in, lips connecting and molding together in one, joyous, electrifying kiss. He smiles against your lips, lowering you slowly onto his work table, pushing screwdrivers and papers out of the way, still attatched to you. As you reluctantly break away, gulping in fresh air, you beam at the man in front of you, his eyes still closed in escatasy.

“You’re my favourite teddy bear.”

[shina913]

On Tilt, Part 6 | KNJ

On Tilt, Part 6

Definition: a poker term for a state of mental or emotional confusion or frustration in which a player adopts a suboptimal strategy, usually resulting in the player becoming overly aggressive.

On Tilt Masterlist

Pairing: Namjoon x Fem!Reader

Rating: M 🔞; NSFW

Genre: idol!AU; strangers-to-FWB-to-lovers; toxic relationship; angst; fluff; smut

Warnings: cussing; dirty talk; neck kisses; heavy petting; nipple play; clit play; body worship; oral (mutual); protected sex; switch!Namjoon; switch!reader

Word count: 5.6K+ words

Summary: You’ve said time and time again that you wouldn’t lose yourself to him. You were in control now. You were going to make better choices. For a minute there, you were able to keep up with it. It wasn’t ‘til Namjoon’s extended break that you found yourself falling into old habits. Will you ever learn to quit Kim Namjoon?

A/N: It's been a long time! If you're still following along, thank you for being patient! I hope to write more frequently. I haven't been inspired to finish much of my wips but I hope you'll enjoy this chapter! I've missed these two.

"I don't know... I think the second half of it seems..." Namjoon sighs, trying to think of an adjective. "Lame?"

"I don't think so," Jon, his co-producer, disagrees.

“Are you sure? I feel like we should add more to it. My vocals sound kind of flat.”

Namjoon, despite having 1,001 tasks to complete before his album release, had also agreed to do a feature verse on a track for one of his industry friends. He sits in one corner of the room, his gaze fixed on the large screen displaying multiple layers of squiggly waves that represent the various instrumental and vocal tracks he’s recorded.

Jon has worked with him long enough to know when he’s actually giving notes or just being nitpicky.

“Your vocals are fine,” he says reassuringly. “Your verse is perfect–it really fits the song!”

Namjoon sighs heavily, still feeling some apprehension. His phone buzzes and he glances at it to read a text message. “Ah, good. He’s on his way. Maybe he can give me some input on this. He’s got a great ear for these kind of things.”

“Ouch, bro,” Jon feigns offense as he cleans up the track layers some more.

Namjoon turns apologetic immediately. “Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just that we’ve been at this for a few weeks and I just want to get a different perspective?”

A minute later, the door to his studio opens, and in comes Yoongi.

"Hey, you got here fast!" Namjoon greets Yoongi. Yoongi nods in acknowledgment. "I was already on this floor when you texted, so I thought I'd swing by before my next appointment. What's up?"

Namjoon motions for Jon to play the track for Yoongi. He observes his teammate and frequent co-producer tilt his head to the side and close his eyes. He always does this when he wants to analyze the track by ear.

Once the track ends, Namjoon anticipates his comments.

“Can you try it without the cymbals in the bridge and drop the echo off the doubling track?”

Jon nods, clicks on a few functions, and plays the song according to Yoongi's notes. Hearing the track with the new modifications, Yoongi and Namjoon make eye contact. They both nod their heads enthusiastically to the beat. No other words are exchanged, but the smiles on their faces and the subsequent high-five provide enough reassurance.

******

“Thanks for the input, hyung. I appreciate it.” Namjoon walks Yoongi out of his studio.

“It’s nothing! We’re still a team even though we’re all off doing our own stuff at the moment.”

Namjoon silently agrees, then raises a hand to rub his eyes while trying to suppress a yawn. They pause for a moment, standing in front of each other in the quiet hallway.

“Tired?”

"I've accepted my fate of being tired forever," Namjoon laughs wryly, rubbing the back of his neck. "I don't know why I assumed that completing my album would bring me some relief and relaxation.”

"Ah, it'll pass." To a stranger, his deadpan tone might sound insincere, but Namjoon knows that he means it in a consoling manner. "Are you excited about your launch party?”

“Yeah, I am. And I’m taking YN with me!” There was a sense of pride and comfort in the way he said it.

Yoongi’s eyebrows shoot upward. “Are you?”

“You think it’s a bad idea?”

Yoongi shakes his head and smiles. “Not in the least bit. Have you told PD-nim?”

Namjoon nods. “He was cool with it. She’ll be there as my guest but we agreed that her presence there isn’t an ‘announcement’ or anything like that. Still, I’m confident that we’ll be safe since she and I will be interacting out in the open instead of sneaking around.”

It was simple logic. Photos weren’t worth much to tabloids if they were professionally taken with the subject’s consent.

Yoongi laughs at the rationale but he can’t deny that his friend makes a good point. “I’m glad you’ve got something worked out. And she’s okay with all that?”

Namjoon’s head tilts slightly and his shoulders shrug. “Apprehensive at first but I let her know that the front office was supportive so that helped convince her and made her feel safe about going.”

Yoongi’s eyebrows rose and his lips twitch upon hearing his last comment but he caught himself and managed to force a smile. “Good. That’s…good. I’m really glad to hear that.” It wasn’t fair to project his personal grievances with management toward his friend.

Realizing his misstep, his excitement is replaced with a pang of guilt. “Shit, I’m sorry, hyung,” he grimaces. “I didn’t mean to come off insensitive, especially after what happened to–”

Yoongi cuts him off. “Nah, don’t feel guilty about it. I’m happy that you’re happy. I’m glad that you have someone who supports you and that you’ve found ways to compromise.” His sober expression makes Namjoon’s face falter.

It hasn’t been long since Yoongi and his partner split up. It was a few weeks before the hiatus announcement but by then, they’d had enough and decided to move onto separate ways.

“I’m really sorry that you couldn’t figure out a middle ground between the label and–”

Yoongi waves his hand in mid-air to stop Namjoon from bringing up something that is still fresh in his mind. There was a time and place to be vulnerable but this moment wasn’t it. “S’okay. We tried…for a long time…” He sighs and finishes with a shrug, effectively dropping the subject.

“Anyway, speaking of PD-nim, what did you think of last week’s contract meeting?” Yoongi asks to shift the focus away from him. “Have you thought about what you wanted to do for the next year?”

Namjoon exhales and confidently answers, “Yep. I’m taking the option for the longer hiatus.”

A few weeks ago, the label held a meeting with all team members, offering different paths for their careers. They could either continue pursuing solo activities or 'take a break' by having a more flexible schedule and the option to choose the projects they want to participate in.

“Wow. Really? Even with all of the offers to collaborate?” Yoongi bulges his eyes out at his friend knowingly.

Two years ago, Namjoon would have been tripping over his feet if he ever got a call from his idols for a dream collaboration. Now that the group has hit record-breaking fame in the world stage, each member’s time was in high demand.

“I did that one song last summer with my idol and crossed that off my bucket list. I don’t need to be greedy by entertaining every request,” he laughs. “It’s also an opportunity for me to take a break and find a new sound.”

Although Namjoon's new album has not been released yet, Yoongi does not argue because he understands that as an artist, one needs to constantly evolve. As soon as you finish one project, you should already be in the midst of planning the next one.

“That’s fair,” Yoongi concedes. “Was this decision influenced by a certain someone?”

“Yes and no,” Namjoon admits. “She’s a factor but it's my own decision. It’s what’s best for me…for us. I owe it to her.”

“Is she collecting a debt?”

Namjoon laughs. “No, no. She didn’t say that. In fact, I haven’t told her that we had that meeting. All I know is that I made a commitment to her and I plan on sticking to it. Walk the walk, you know?”

“I guess it’s good that she didn’t talk you into it. The last thing you want is to make hasty, emotional decisions then regret them later.”

“Hyung, I swear I’m not being hasty or emotional about this.”

“Alright,” Yoongi relents. “Just saying, I’d hate for you to feel regret or resentment if things don’t pan out.”

The truth was, Namjoon had that thought buried in the far corner of his mind, but he wouldn't let it deter him. He believed that fate brought the two of you back together and he was determined to do everything he could to make the best out of this second chance. Things will work out this time.

They have to.

You're in a rush to send out two more emails before the holiday weekend. These emails are crucial for sealing the deals for two of your clients. One has received interest from a film production company that wants to buy the rights to their novel and turn it into a movie. The other client is preparing for wider distribution after self-publishing the first edition of their book.

Your phone starts to buzz after you send off one email.

“Hey, I just got here. Are you sure you don’t want me to pick you up?” Namjoon walks through your front door then pockets his keys, which include a copy of your house keys. It was a huge step for you and your relationship.

He was bringing food from the restaurant that you two were supposed to have dinner at. But after a client call ran long and a few other last-minute tasks piled up, you asked if you could reschedule. Instead, he was insistent and completely fine with the idea of spending the night in.

“I’m sure. I drove so I have to bring my car home anyway.”

“But you could leave it at the garage and I can have my manager pick it up tomorrow.”

You laugh at his offer. He just really wanted you home. “Why don’t you let the man enjoy a decent weekend off, for once?”

“Alright,” he relents. “I’ll be here waiting. I’ve got wine chilling in the fridge and pasta and chicken, just like you asked.”

You acknowledge all the effort he’s putting in. He’s been sleep-deprived the entire week but he was still determined to spend time with you. Still, you take the opportunity to tease him. “You know that kind of behavior will get you laid.”

“Look, I don’t really care if anything happens tonight,” he says simply. “I only wanted to bring dinner and be with you.”

“Mm-hm,” you hum in amusement. “What kind of pasta did you get?” You ask him as a test.

He answers with your favorite. It’s been so long and yet he still knew. “That’s it! I’m getting on my knees as soon as I walk through the door!”

A low laugh escapes him. “Not if I get you on your back first.”

His response makes you want to log off this second and rush home to him. 

Unfortunately, even if you leave the office, you still need to continue working from home. However, you would rather put 100% of your focus on him. So, you decide to stay until you finish everything.

Two hours later, you walk through the door. The room is dark and quiet, with the only light coming from the television. Namjoon is snoring in the living room.

He stirs when you brush his hair back to kiss his forehead from behind the couch.

"Hi," he says, his lips curving into a languid smile as he blinks his eyes open.

"Sorry, I'm late."

"It's cool." He stretches his arms and sits up. "Have you eaten?"

"No. Have you?" You ask him.

He shakes his head as well. "I'll heat up the food in the oven—"

"No, let’s go to bed so you can go back to sleep," you suggest. It's been a long day and fatigue is setting in. However, Namjoon gets up from the couch, shakes his head adamantly, and laughs. "You know that I know that there's no way you'll have a good night's sleep while hungry."

Just before you protest, your stomach growls, betraying you. He knows you well enough. With a snort, he takes your hand and guides you to the kitchen.

*******

After dinner and a quick shower for you, you get a second wind and decide to watch some late-night TV. It was a weekend, and Namjoon didn't have to be at the office until late the next evening.

He gazes at the week-old gardenia arrangement that he brought over when you first moved in and wonders aloud, "I'll never understand why you keep holding onto these until they're completely dead. Just throw them away and I'll get you fresh flowers!"

"I like them when they’re in this in-between stage of brown and white. They have a stronger scent and I love it," you explain.

"Yeah, but the aesthetic is—" He clicks his teeth in distaste.

"Forget about the aesthetic! I think it smells romantic," you say confidently.

At first, he furrows his brows at your strange remark. But instead of arguing, he’s endeared. He shakes his head and chuckles, returning his attention to the TV.

You and Namjoon are on the couch, watching old reruns of a show that you've seen many times before. Despite the outdated punchlines, you still find them funny years later. You're sitting sideways while your legs, covered by a throw blanket, rest comfortably on his lap. Instead of watching the show with him, your gaze is fixed on his profile. At the sound of a joke you both had heard before, he still lets out a guffaw, the corners of his eyes crinkling in amusement as if hearing it for the very first time. His laughter makes your heart swell so much that it feels as if you could float away.

At that moment, as his laughs subside and the scent of wilted gardenias fills the room, you utter, "I love you." You can feel your heart pounding in your chest.

He slowly turns his head to face you, his eyes searching yours. After a few beats that feel like an eternity, he says, "Say that again."

Suddenly feeling shy, you giggle like a schoolgirl and attempt to hide under your blanket, but he pulls it off, revealing your flushed cheeks.

"Please say it again," he says, grinning and patiently waiting.

You take a deep breath, savoring the moment. You purse your lips for a few seconds, then smile back at him. "I love you," you say softly, but with conviction.

He throws his head back dramatically, clutching his chest as if he's been shot, before collapsing onto the bed with a theatrical flourish.

Giggling at his antics, you playfully shove his side and tell him, "Stop being so dramatic!"

"I'm not being dramatic! I'm in love," he declares with a sigh.

You’re mildly irritated by his response. “You know, if you’re just going to joke about this—”

Just as you turn serious, he does the same. “I would never joke. Not when it comes to you.”

This was a huge step for both of you and it was the first time you’d actually said the words to each other. Years ago, he used to say that labels and verbal declarations of feelings were ‘superficial’. Anybody can say ‘I love you’ but never really grasp the full weight of it. He was all about ‘showing’ not ‘telling.’

The old you thought that made a lot of sense. It sounded logical. And because you were actually in love with him then, you believed it.

You swallow the lump in your throat. "I want you to know that this is still scary for me. This isn’t like when we were sleeping around at the dorms or hotels. The stakes are higher now."

He turns his body toward you. He cradles your legs with one arm and circles the other around your waist to pull you closer.

“I really fucked things up by not telling you how I felt and ignoring your needs. I was selfish and a coward.”

You shake your head gently at how he was placing all the blame on himself. “We were young and had a lot of growing up to do. Both of us needed that time apart.”

He looks at you with a mix of regret and determination in his eyes. "I recognize that now," he says softly. "And I want to do better and be better for you. Things will be different this time."

His words fill you with hope, and you feel your heart fill with warmth as you realize that he is committed to making things work between you.

The thought of it also turns you on wildly. You lean in and press your lips to his. “Take me to bed,” you whisper.

He pulls back slightly and stares into your eyes. “I’m not saying these things just to get it in,” he chuckles. “Like I said, we don’t have to do anything you don’t want—”

“I know,” you interrupt gently before your lips curve into a smile. “Let me worry about what I want. And what I want, is for us to go to bed.”

Nodding, he switches the TV off and you both walk upstairs into your bedroom.

******

You walk into the room, with him following closely behind. As you turn to face him, he stops in his tracks, cautiously anticipating your next move.

You reach up and cup his face in your hands. He closes his eyes, reveling in your touch. Tilting your chin up, he meets halfway, and seals his mouth to yours. The kiss starts soft and sweet, but quickly builds up to a fever pitch.

Desire surges through you, and he matches your fervor. His fingers grip the back of your neck, deepening the kiss. He groans against your lips, making those low, sexy sounds that you turn you on. Your hands explore his chest, feeling every inch of him. Just as you're about to lose control, he breaks the kiss.

He spins you around, your back pressed against him, caging you while his hand roams all around your front.  You threw your head back in a low moan as he nipped at your neck, grinding his hard cock between your ass cheeks.

He wraps his arms around you and nuzzles your neck. His heavy breaths send shivers down your spine.

“How did I get so lucky?” he whispers as his teeth graze your earlobe.

"I wouldn't call it luck," you murmur breathlessly, shifting your head to give him better access to your throat. "...More like a well-deserved outcome," you finish. He runs his nose down the slope of your neck, and you feel him smile against it.

"I'm really trying to control myself," he sighs. "But I'd be lying if I said I haven't spent a lot of time fantasizing about how this evening would go."

You release a pained groan, squirming as he lazily sucks on your neck. "Tell me," you say.

He pauses his ministrations, giving you a chance to break away and turn to face him.

“Tell me about your fantasies,” you say to him.

Namjoon teasingly swipes his tongue between his lips and leans forward. “I can tell you and show you.”

In anticipation, your chest rises as you inhale sharply and bite your lower lip. It was all the consent he needed.

"First of all, you're wearing too many clothes," he smirks.

You reach for the hem of your sleep shirt, intending to pull it off, but he stops you. He gently wags his finger and tuts. "In my fantasy, I do all the work."

You release the material and relinquish control to him. Wrapping his arms around you, he repeats your earlier action and pulls your shirt up. You lift your arms above your head, allowing him to easily slip it off you. As he leans in, you anticipate a kiss, but he surprises you by tossing you over his shoulder.

He walks across the room, and his hand reaches down to tug on your panties, pulling them below the curve of your ass. You yelp as he spanks you hard enough to sting.

He sits you down on the mattress and crouches in front of you. As he pulls your panties past your bare feet, he asks, “Are you good, baby?”

“Yeah.” You smile and touch his cheek. The moment of tenderness makes your heartbeat stutter as if he wasn’t just about to ravish you seconds later.

He nods and flashes a dimple before he picks up where he left off.

He plants a soft kiss on your inner thigh. “Are you ready for me?”

You arch an eyebrow at him in response. “The better question is, are you ready for me?”

You let out another squeal when Namjoon jerks your hips to the very edge of the bed with your legs on either side of him, exposing your center to his gaze.

“You’re going to be sorry you said that.”

You pushed at his shoulder, challenging him. “Teach me a lesson, then.”

He presses your thighs wide with gentle hands, his thumb stroking over your clit, pleasure pulsing through you.

He lowers his voice to a dangerously low tone. “You know, I’m trying to set the pace here but you’re no help.” He gets some revenge when he pulls his shirt over his head.

“You know I can take it,” you say as evenly as possible while trying not to drool over the sight of his bare chest.

“I know you can,” he murmurs. “But I want this to last a while.” Your stomach tightens when he lowers his head. As soon as his tongue licks through your folds, you grasp desperately at the sheets beneath you and fall back onto the mattress. He parts you with his fingers, teasing your sensitive flesh while you keen and writhe in pleasure.

“I’ve imagined this so many different ways,” he purred, teasing your clit with the tip of his tongue. Your hips buck but he holds you firmly down.

“On my bed.” He sucks. “In my studio.” And licks.

“In the back room of the restaurant that I took you to on our first date after we had the no-sex conversation.”

“God. Namjoon,” You moan pathetically, dizzy at the sight of him savoring you.

“I imagine pinning you down,” he went on roughly, “Giving it to you all night…your nipples swollen from me sucking on them. The room filled with all those sexy sounds you do…when I make you cum over and over…” He gives your clit one long suction.

You whimper, biting your lip as he flutters his tongue. He has one of your legs hooked over his bare shoulder. The heat from his skin burns the flesh behind your knee.

“Yes, I want all that,” Your hands roam over your breasts, pinching at your aching nipples for relief.

He grins mischievously. “I know.” He continues to suck on your bundle of nerves, teasing you relentlessly as your climax builds up further. With his lips still wrapped around your clit, he slides two fingers into your soaked opening, curling them upward to massage your inner walls.

You gasp sharply at the assault when he pumps into you. Hips moving of their own volition, grinding into his greedy mouth.

You climax with a breathless cry, your legs shaking with the rush of release after months of pent-up tension between you.

You were still coming down from your high when his body loomed over you. He shoves his bottoms down just enough to free his cock.

You watch as he carefully slips a condom down his length. Wanting to feel him in your hands, you attempt to reach for it, but he catches you by your wrist. He brings your hand to his lips and kisses the inside before pinning your hands above your head.

His eyes studies your face, his lips still glistening from your orgasm, his chest heaving. You blink up at him in wonder and ask yourself, 'how did you get so lucky'?

“I love you,” he pants.

“I love you,” you reply before he slides his length between your folds. He pushes in, parting the slick opening.

He buries his face in your throat with a groan, then surges inside you. He gasps your name, slowly grinding his hips against you, trying to get deeper.

His hips work in a steady rhythm. The feel of him inside you, stretching you, drives you crazy. You shift and wrap your legs around him for leverage and meet his thrusts.

His lips brushed against your temple. “Fuck, you feel so good. I don’t think I can last much longer…but I…I want to—“

He sounded apologetic, but he didn’t need to. Your throat tightens. “I don’t care. I’m not going anywhere. Don’t stop!”

He pulls out, lifts your ass, then thrusts deeply.  You moan helplessly, your cunt squeezing him greedily. “Fuck yes…” you hiss. “Harder. Fuck me harder.”

He strokes into you and you writhe under him, your thighs grasping his hips. Digging his knees in, he gives you what you begged for and fucks relentlessly into you. His cock plunges deeply, over and over, breathing naughty fantasies into your ear and pushing you closer to another climax.

Your core tenses and your clit throbs with every slam of his hips against yours. He pounds into you, every muscle in his body flexing.

“I’m gonna cum so hard for you,” he strains, sweat sliding down his temple.

The promise of him filling you sets you off, and before you know it, you come undone for him again, your pussy spasming furiously. The obscene sounds of hot, sweaty fucking fills your bedroom while he chases his own climax.

He slows down his movements deliberately, and with one final stroke, you feel him spurting inside of you. Rough sounds of satisfaction rumble from his chest and resonate against your sweat-slicked skin.

He lies there for a moment, his heartbeat gradually slowing to a steady rhythm. When he lifts his head, his fingers run through your hair.

Namjoon cradles your face in his hands and kisses you. “Thank you.”

“What are you thanking me for? You did all the work,” you laugh.

His slow smile showed pure satisfaction. “I’m only grateful for the privilege.”

You roll your eyes playfully. “Stop,” you giggle. “You’re just saying that because you’re horny.”

“Nah, I’m love-drunk,” he grins lazily before planting another kiss on your lips. You’re so endeared…as if you couldn’t love him anymore.

He flops on the bed beside you, and you rest a hand on his chest, patting it softly. "By the way, top-tier fantasy," you remark.

Turning to face you, his smile widens and he mischievously squints at you. “Oh, you thought that was it?” He laughs. “We haven’t even gotten through the half of it!”

The thought of being the recipient of Namjoon’s insatiable desire for you sends a flutter of excitement through your body.

******

You are jolted awake by a dream you had. In it, you were falling into a bottomless pit.

Your heart races as you quickly turn your head to the other side of the bed, where Namjoon is sleeping soundly.

You’d been at each other for at least two hours before both of you passed out from exhaustion and fell asleep.

You carefully slide out of bed, trying not to wake him, and make your way to the bathroom.

When you reenter the bedroom, the scene before you takes your breath away. Namjoon is sprawled across your bed, with one arm tossed over his head and the other draped across his chest. When you were shopping for a mattress, it seemed excessive to get one so huge. However, now that you see his feet resting comfortably on the bed instead of dangling off it, it doesn't seem like such a bad investment after all.

God, he was breathtaking. When he was onstage, he exuded an unstoppable force, trained to be the object of many people’s fantasies. And yet, you were the only one who could bring him to his knees.

He shifts as you climb onto the bed. He blinks up at you.

“Hey, come here.” He sounds drowsy, but you find it incredibly sexy.

“I love you,” you say as you lower yourself into his outstretched arms. His warm skin is perfect for snuggling. Seeing him like this makes you want to be close to him, but in a different way.

He kisses you deeply, but you pull away just in time to regain control. “I'm not done with you,” he warns. Despite already going three rounds (that you can recall), he shamelessly craves more. Admittedly, so do you.

You gently place your pointer finger on his lips and shake your head. "It's my turn."

He raises an eyebrow in curiosity.

“We spent all night living out your fantasies but didn’t even get to mine. Not fair–that’s not how this relationship is supposed to work,” you pout.

“I’m sorry,” he says sweetly, brushing your cheek with his finger. “What do you want, my love?”

You wrap your legs around his thigh and rub against it, letting him feel that you are already wet for him. The friction makes you moan, as does the promise of being naughty.

You kiss him, press your body against him. “Two things.”

His finger grazes your forehead. “Anything.”

“One, I want to taste you,” you whisper then glance downward at his crotch.

His teeth sink into his bottom lip, already into it. “And the second thing?”

This is when you try to hold back your excitement. “You have to be very, very still.”

He’s suddenly puzzled. “Huh?”

“I want you to keep your hands to yourself while I work on you,” you state.

He groans in frustration. “You know that’s impossible–”

“Just trust me!”

Eventually, he acquiesces. “Alright. How do you want me?”

You purse your lips and motion for him to sit up against the headboard, and he obliges. You lift his arms and direct him to hold onto the gaps in the frame.

Next, you grab hold of his boxers' waistband and he lifts his hips to assist you. As you pull them past his feet, you ask, "Are you good, baby?"

“Yes,” he answers with a gentle smirk.

You spread his thighs apart, but before you position yourself between them, you lean forward to give him a kiss. He instinctively embraces you, with one hand pushing into your hair and the other resting on the small of your back, urging you to come closer.

Clearing your throat, you flick your eyes to his hands, giving him a warning look. He smiles, suddenly remembering one of your stipulations, and lets his hands fall to his sides.

You press a light kiss to his lips before moving your mouth across his cheek, down to his throat. Your tongue darts out to lick his golden skin before latching on, causing him to let out a pained growl. You graze him with your teeth, leaving a mark. Rough sounds of pleasure vibrate against your lips.

Pulling back, you admire the bright red bruise you left and giggle triumphantly at your handiwork. “Mine.”

"Yours," he vows with hooded eyes.

"Good answer." Pleased, you continue to move lower, finding and teasing his nipples. You lick over them, around them, then blow. Namjoon hisses and growls at the shot of cool air against his sensitized skin. He resists the temptation to roll you onto your back and pin you to the mattress, but instead, he grips the headboard tighter, his knuckles turning white.

As you make your way down his torso, you feel his entire body tighten with anticipation. When your tongue rims his belly button, his hips jerk up.

If he only knew just how excited you were to see him in this state. You want to reward him for having this much obedience and self-control.

With your hands on his inner thighs, you urge him to spread open wider, giving you room to settle comfortably. Dipping your head, your lips part, and you give his cock a precursory lick.

“Fuuucking…hell…” he growls.

It sends another wave of arousal through you. Wrapping your lips around him, you give him back what he gave you last night. Using only your mouth, you worship him, sucking gently and caressing him with your tongue.

He mutters a mix of curses and praises, feeling both lost and dizzy with pleasure.

You pause for a moment and tease him. “You like that?”

He sits up on his elbows, and looks at you wryly. “No, I hate every second it!”

You laugh then wrap your lips around his tip and hum.

“Aaaahh…fuck me. What the fuck,” he groans at the vibration. You see his eyes roll to the back of his head. “Deeper, please,” he begs.

Since he asked so nicely, you oblige and take him in completely until the tip reaches the back of your throat.

He cries out, his back arching as if he wants to pull away, but you hold onto him with your lips and hands, cupping and massaging, encouraging him to reach the peak of pleasure.

“Fuck…fuck…” he chokes out, fighting every urge to wrap his hand around your nape to control the pace. He knows you’re enjoying this too much and the thought of it sends him into a frenzy. His thighs ached with strain, muscles hardening by the force it took to restrain himself.

You feel his balls tighten and you know he’s close. Hollowing your cheeks, you bob your head at an even pace, swirling your tongue around his length simultaneously.

“Ahh, baby, I’m gonna cum…fuck…”

In the same moment that you pull off, he grunts and spurts right at your chest. You sit up and lean back on your heels, pumping him with your fist to prolong and intensify the sensation. You can feel the contractions against your fingertips, pulsing from his flesh as he lets out a drawn-out groan.

When his body calms down, you release him and move to lay by his side.

After a few beats, he croaks out, "Am I allowed to touch you now?"

With a playful giggle, you give him permission. Finally, his heavy arm shifts, blindly searching to pull you closer. You snuggle into his embrace, feeling his heartbeat gradually steadying against yours as he plants a kiss on the top of your head. Both of you collapse in a tired, satisfied heap, but you loved it.

And you loved him.

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Thank you so much for reading!

If you loved it, please comment, reblog, or send me feedback! 📩. I love hearing from readers! If you didn’t like it so much, I would still like to hear about it. Help me become a better writer! 💜

Tagging: @internetjunkdrawer @roaminginthenights @serendididy @majamarantha @mrskiminami @joonschocochip @yoongukie-ff @midnightagust

[bonny-kookoo]

Jungkook: Pride (Intro)

In which sometimes you'll have to be reminded where you came from to appreciate where you are now.

Tags/Warnings: Tiger!hybrid Jungkook, Cat!Hybrid reader, strangers to lovers, sort of soulmate AU?, Fluff & minor angst

-⊶-⊶-⊶-⊶-⊶-⊶-⊶-⊶-⊶-⊶-⊶-⊶-⊶--⊶-⊶-⊶-⊶-⊶-⊶-

"Thank you SO much, you won't ever believe how much you saved me!" Hoseok hugs the tiger hybrid as he takes the plastic bags from his friend. "I just had my hands full the entire day with them all-" The human rambles, but Jungkook waves him off, as he takes off his shoes.

"Don't worry, it was on the way anyways." He reassures, familiar with his friend's apartment's layout at this point. There's little hybrids running around, none older than maybe five it seems- the only older one being Taehyung, a familiar face in Hoseok's apartment since the lion hybrid officially lives with him permanently. Jungkook greets him with a smile, one that's returned silently, as the lion is currently holding onto a sleeping hybrid child on his lap. "Did you wash something in here?" Jungkook wonders, bringing some of the bags in the kitchen.

"No?" Hoseok wonders. "Why?" He asks, putting the groceries away in their respective places while the younger hybrid helps.

"Just wondering." He shrugs, throwing the empty bag into the bin close by. "How come they dropped so many kids at yours this time?" He asks.

"A raid." Hoseok grimly explains. "Underground trading, again. It's the second one this year." He sighs. "There's really no end to it, is there? One gets shut down, just for another to pop up.." He mumbles, watching the children play around.

"It'll get better." Jungkook tries to help, though he himself barely believes it as well. "What's with all the strawberry milk?" He wonders, watching his human friend put all the little juice boxes and bottles of said strawberry milk into the fridge.

"Ah, that's for angel. She doesn't really have a name, so we just call her whatever for now." He says, taking one out before looking at Taehyung, who's still trying to get all the young hybrids to take a nap. "I'll bring her one later, when they're quiet. The kids might stress her out too much. She's not good at handling a lot of sensory input." He explains.

"Another hybrid?" He asks, and Hoseok nods.

"Housecat hybrid. Brought back recently, but the social workers gave no reason as to why. Just said she's back, nothing else." Hoseok sighs, shaking his head. "I'm not sure what has happened to her. She won't talk, seems nice, but a bit clingy. She's alone right now only because of the kids." He explains to Jungkook, who nods.

"You want me to bring this to her?" He wonders, pointing to the tiny snack and bottle of milk presumably for you. Hoseok shrugs.

"Sure. She's in the left guest-room." He tells the tiger, who nods, before walking to where his friend had told him you'd be hiding in. As soon as he gets closer, that smell becomes stronger too- an oddly floral but soft scent, sweet but not too overbearing. It's a nice smell- but nothing he's ever quite noticed ever before.

"Hey- Hoseok asked me to bring you something to eat?" He asks quietly, knocking on the slightly ajar door, before he looks around. There doesn't seem to be anybody there- oh.

There you are.

You're watching him from the corner of the room, wrapped up in a blanket, seemingly having just woken up from a nap. You're nothing he's not seen before- a standard cat hybrid, maybe a bit on the shorter side, but probably his age, give or take a little. But something just seems to pull a purr from his chest, a buzzing feeling making him all warm and soft at the sight of you just merely looking at him. And the moment you yawn, tiny sharpened teeth showing, he's a goner.

You've got him captured, tamed, by doing absolutely nothing it seems.

He sits down a bit closer to you, gives you your small sandwich and your milk. You're purring, loudly so, and he loves the sound of it already. Your lips seem a bit chapped, bitten raw in some spots which seems to be due to nervousness and stress- and it's understandable. Not only have you been given away and removed from your home, but you've been basically betrayed and brought into a hectic environment that's probably not the best option for you.

Jungkook has always wanted to do something good for a bigger cause. Maybe he's just found his chance of doing so.

You remind him of himself, in a way. You're not scared, rather curious- quiet, but not dismissive, or uninterested. He likes you, clearly, it's pretty obvious that you're his mate even though it makes zero sense as you're a housecat and not a tiger, and he himself isnt even the same hybrid level- but he won't think about that.

He's found you, and he's going to make sure he won't let you down like you've been let down before.

"Figured something like that." Hoseok chuckles, watching how Jungkook opens the bottle of strawberry milk for you, as your tail snaps up a little.

"Huh?" Jungkook asks, his ears twisting and turning a bit in embarrassment as he tries to play it cool.

"Oh, come on now, Jungkook." He laughs. "I already knew something was up when you kept noticing a strange smell." He informs the tiger. "You might be a Level 2 but you're still a hybrid down the line, no matter how independent." He laughs.

"Well- ah, leave me alone!" He growls playfully, making your tail swish from side to side in amusement, clearly happy at the mood in the room. Jungkook himself wants to just pick you right up and carry you home. You're already melting his heart with nothing else but a smile.

"Oh, I will!" Hoseok says. "But I doubt she will now." He teases, making Jungkook smile.

Well he sure hopes you won't.

[knickknacksandallthat]

sorry to bother but do you have a plan of when part 4 will come out

ofc it’s perfectly fine if you’re not ready, from the looks of it this is a really big project

Hi anon!!

Oh my goodness, no it's no bother at all! Honestly, I would much rather be talking about fic writing than doing boring things like making a living (which consumed MY LIFE last week).

Ha! And you said it - this fic series has definitely been all-consuming. But I really love this particular AU, so let me tell you I've been working on it non-stop whenever I have time and have the following figured out so far:

My outline currently has the next fic at 12 chapters, though I have a sneaky suspicion that it'll become longer.

I have 53K written so far (but that's before editing😅).

It will have alternating POVs between Jean and Jeremy.

I wish I could give you a better sense of timing, but honestly it all comes down to my work schedule and what free time I have. At this point, I feel like I'm aiming toward April - but don't quote me.

And because I haven't posted something about Once in a Blue Moon on here for a while, here's a new snippet to chew over while I keep hustling as a thank you for your patience! 🥹

OIAB scene under the cut:

The LA airport is hot and muggy. It makes sweat bead down Jean’s neck and uncomfortably gather beneath his collar. Though he wears the lightest long-sleeve shirt he owns, the material still feels constricted and stifling, sticking to his skin. He has the insane urge to tear the garment off him and walk around bare-chested just to feel some relief.  Of course, he would never do so. In fact, the mere thought of it makes him pull his sleeves down farther, covering the backs of scar-ridden hands.  At least his head is cool.  He runs a hand over his buzzed scalp once more, the fuzzy feel of it still odd to him. Abby had suggested it so they could see his stitches better. And since so much of his hair had been pulled out anyway, it seemed to make sense.  Still, he hates how foreign the feeling is. He’s a stranger in his own skin. Has been, for some time he thinks.  He glances up anxiously at the clock on the wall, his knee bouncing as he waits. His flight landed ten minutes ago, and he thought his captain would be waiting here to greet him.  Apparently, he thought wrong.  Laughter erupts from behind him, and Jean jumps. He immediately spins around, only to find a family standing nearby, laughing at the antics of their two-year-old. He watches them for a moment before slowly turning back, clasping his hands in front of him and clutching them tight. Anxiety slowly begins to creep under his skin. Had he gotten the day wrong? Or the time? Did something happen between Palmetto and here that caused a delay? Should he call someone to ask?  He opens his phone and looks through the few contacts on his list.  Abby Winfield David Wymack Jeremy Knox Kevin Day Renee Walker Jean scowls.  His preference would likely be Abby or Renee, though he thinks the latter would have no information useful for this. Wymack, he would tolerate. He skims over the fourth name on the list because he’s never thinking of that fucker again in his entire life, if he can help it. Then he stares at the fifth name, the contact information for him uploaded without his knowledge into this new phone Abby got him. Jeremy Knox.  Starting Trojans Striker. #11. Played 52 games last season, scored 41 goals, and had 36 assists. Captain of the USC Trojans for three years straight. Fifth-best striker in the NCAA.  (Fourth, now that Riko is gone.)  Weaknesses: favors left side for goals, left knee injury in his sophomore year of high school, and overly attached to wellbeing of teammates. Jean scowls again.  If Knox is anything like the person who recommended him, he’s bound to be both a waste of Jean’s time and breath. After all, he can certainly strike punctual off the list.

Thanks again for the ask, anon!

[painonthebrain]

Good Person

Whumptober Day 30: Holding back tears

Masterlist

Content: Angst, alcohol use, drug use

The party has finally picked up the pace now, full of people and thrumming with their energy, and Sydney couldn’t be having a better time. She’s in her element – breezing from person to person, chatting them up and offering her company in spades, generous and amiable. The whole place glitters and glows, her glowing the most of all. It’s like she has a shine to her, like she gives off her own light, energetic and charismatic and at home with all these strangers, making friends with each and every one of them.

She’s in a group of people, doubled over, leaning back against a chair, face flushed a pretty blue, warm with alcohol and the buzz of the party. She’s running on their energy, fueling her own, feeding it back into the party which then goes back into the loop, endless and joyous. Every part of reality is left behind here, and it’s so wonderful to forget and lose herself.

Eventually, she leaves the group behind, practically sauntering back to her girlfriend after all the mingling, leaving them with nothing more than a smile and a wave. She clutches a red Solo cup in her hands with an inch of liquid left in it. Punch mixed with alcohol. She’d poured enough in to change the taste of it, a disgusting mixture of sweet and bitter that burns going down. It was still pretty tasty though. Fizzy and fruity. It just had a bit of a kick, just how she liked it.

“Oh! Sydney!” Elise’s voice lilts with recognition, and Sydney smiles, coming closer.

“Hey, Ellie. Hope you didn’t miss me while I was over there.” She gestures to the group of partygoers, all laughing and drunken just like herself, still having a good time without her. She has her own laugh, giggling to herself at bits of conversation she remembers from moments ago. “How’s it going?”

Elise’s mouth twists, her lips pressed together. “Can we talk?” She looks uncomfortable, waiting, and Sydney forgets the party, getting closer.

“Yeah, what’s up?”

Elise’s lips don’t part. It’s like she’s trying to find the right words, barely being able to grasp them before they slip away from her forever. Like she’s in the middle of a test she didn’t study for but felt prepared she was going to ace. Like she’s forgotten the lines of a play, standing in front of a dead silent audience, sweating under the spotlights and wishing she was anywhere but here.

Something is wrong.

“El?”

“Sydney. I… I need you to listen to me.”

“I’m listening.” She affirms. I’ve got you. You’re ok. But please just fucking tell me what’s going on.

“For real this time.”

Sydney averts her gaze, looking away, exhaling. She takes a moment to keep herself together, then turns back to her girlfriend. “You got it.” She smiles, a forced, artificial thing, just to make her feel better.

“I… don’t really like how this is going.” She starts.

“This?” Can she be more vague? Just tell me.

“God, I don’t know how to tell you this, Syd —” Elise’s voice turns strained. She runs a hand over her face, closing her eyes tight. “I hate doing this. I hate it but I… I don’t think we’re good for each other.” She spits the last part out like it’s poisonous, like it’s going to bite her if she doesn’t get away from it quickly enough.

Sydney’s body is stone-still, frozen. The roles are reversed, and she’s the one who can’t find the words now, her voice trapped in her throat, making feeble attempts to escape, her mind working through the monumental and looming meaning of her girlfriend’s words.

The world seems to come to a standstill, but the party goes on. Everything goes on. The world is still turning, even though it feels like it should be paused on the spot, frozen in the moment.

“I… you’re breaking up with me?” Sydney's voice is low over the droning of people talking and partying, barely audible over the thumping of an ambiguous bassline. Something that matches the beat of her heart, quick and heavy.

“I’m not breaking up with you, I’m just — I need some space. Okay?” Elise says quickly. It’s obviously a lie. She isn’t stupid.

Sydney stares at the woman speaking to her. She’s a beautiful purple-hued woman with Afro puffs, wearing a dress Sydney said she loved when she saw her try it on. But here she almost seems like a stranger, a reflection of her from the mirror, someone else.

She’s beautiful in the dim lighting, eyes shining like Sydney always says they do. They look sad. Sydney almost wants to fix it, but the urge to reach out and hold her has turned bitter already, tainted by wondering what went wrong.

Sydney opens her mouth to speak, then shuts it, grinding her teeth together.

“You’re just not… what I thought you were like when we met.”

Her eyes sting. “Yeah. Okay.” She looks down.

So it’s this again. Meet a girl at a party, break up with her at a party. It always fucking happens. One day she’ll grow a spine and stop falling for it.

“What else is new?”

Elise steps forward. “I’m just saying you’re —”

Sydney snaps. “I know you think I’m stupid but you don’t have to tell me twice, I can get it into my head that you don’t like me!”

“God — if you would just listen—”

She’s already become impassioned, her face flushed an angry purple. “I don’t want to hear it! Just leave me if you want to do it so damn badly!”

Her ex(?) stares at her, incredulous. She takes a moment to think, silent and still, then she reaches out for her. “Hey. Syd.” Her voice is firm. “I think you’re… you’re wonderful, you’re … you are a good person.” She places her hands on Sydney’s shoulders. “I know you don’t think you are, but —”

Sydney looks down. She doesn’t feel like a good person. Not really. Maybe in some funhouse mirror reality but not here. Not like this. Especially not when Elise is treating her like a wild animal.

“But this…” Elise’s voice goes quiet. She doesn’t meet Sydney’s eyes, and it’s such a death sentence she can’t bear to look herself, tearing her eyes away and closing them. Then suddenly she’s leaning away, pushing the other’s hands from her body. They come apart, and Sydney stumbles back, her body arcing with energy, filled with the urge to fight just like that.

“...isn’t right for me.”

There it is.

Sydney breathes in, rough and shaky. The tears behind her eyes threaten to spill out at any moment. There’s nothing left to say that won’t come out shaky and wrong – and her energy turns from hot and violent to cold and sharp, losing her bite – so she nods, quick and silent, brows drawn tightly, then turns away, stepping back and disappearing into the crowd.

The people ebb and flow around her, and the once spectacular and fun company they made becomes suffocating. She can hear her ex call to her distantly, but it goes ignored.

God, this fucking crowd!– Can’t they learn to get out of her way?

She weaves through the people like they’re nothing, shoving them, not caring because they are nothing, she’ll never see them again – and if she does, they probably won’t remember anyway – until she finds an empty room, darkened and quiet.

She lets out a shaky sigh, wiping her eyes because the prickling behind them has intensified during the time she spent pushing past people and… yeah. That. She takes a moment to just let herself breathe, because… God.

She takes a deep breath in —

It stinks like weed in here. Like someone is smoking. …Fuck.

She spins around to look in the direction the smell is coming from and yep – there’s someone in the corner of the room, blanketed by shadows, smoke streaming from a joint, looking up at her.

“Shit, sorry –” She exclaims. “I can leave.”

The stranger watches her with his scarlet eyes, blinking slowly, taking her in for the mess she is. Self consciousness eats at the back of her mind for some reason. He must be so annoyed.

“S’fine.” He seems so oddly unaffected by her presence, and if he is at all, he doesn’t show it.

She lets out a shaky breath. “Okay. Okay, th-thank you.” She grows less tense, leaning against the wall, still trying to calm herself.

He nods and takes a hit, closing his eyes. Sydney watches him as he does, obviously staring, and her eyes dart away when he opens his again. He’s green-hued, with half-circle-like markings on his cheeks and short, chin length hair. There’s a bit of scruff on his chin just like hers. He seems so calm and put together and she wishes she could feed off of his energy now instead of all the crazed, frazzled partygoers surrounding her.

“You good?” He asks after a good, long moment of silence between them.

“Oh — oh, uhh… it’s nothing.” She stares into her cup filled with that nasty mixture of punch and alcohol, the one she’s nearly downed completely. It looks disgusting now. She still takes a few sips though, just to help banish her feelings. It’s always been good at doing that, but she isn’t sure how well it will work with so little left. She can always go back and get more, but she’d rather not run into her.

“…” Sydney grinds her teeth together. “Well, actually —” She starts tentatively, turning ever so slightly towards her company. “Actually, I… it is something.”

He tilts his head, exhaling his smoke. “Hmm?” He hums, and it’s enough of a response that she goes on, encouraged.

“Well, I – I’m at this party, right? And my girlfriend – Hold on, wait, maybe I should start from the beginning.” She says, disorganized and all over the place. Her eyes are distant, staring off at the ceiling as she speaks, clutching the plastic cup like it will ground her during the experience.

“I… go to parties often. I, I don’t know if you do, but I do. It’s to take my mind off of things. Work, mostly. I hate work.” She says it with vehemence, spitting out the word work. “I hate it… ssso fucking much.”

“Yeah. Fuck work.” The man agrees, nodding – and she can’t tell if he’s smiling ever-so-slightly, but it looks like he might be, his expression knowing and wry. 

She laughs a little. Look at that, they both have something in common, and it’s so mundane and basic. Work. Yeah, work sucks so much, haha — it’s just like someone else here to say that.

With that, she realizes she kind of likes him. He’s just so… chill. And a little mysterious-looking. The only thing he’s listening to is her, and it just… feels a little nice.

It’s the type of selfishness she’s been chided for, just interrupting and making things into her own space, but he’s just letting her. So why not take advantage?

“So I have this girlfriend – had her – she… she broke up with me! Can you believe that??

“Maybe she wanted to talk to me afterwards, but… I don’t want to talk to her. She… she made me feel like an idiot! But now she’s rid of me so she doesn’t have to worry about it anymore. I’m not her problem.”

Her company watches her, and his expression seems a little lost, but he gives her a “Mhm.”

Sydney sniffles. It’s so unlike her to just dump her problems on someone like this. Usually she’s drowning them out with drinks until they disappear or she’s alone to wrestle with them in the privacy of her own home. Or in a room she thinks is empty. Funny how things turn out.

“Sorry. I’m a real asshole for venting to you like this, aren’t I?”

He stares, and it seems like he’s thinking of what to say. His brows draw together, and he holds his joint in front of his mouth, in the middle of going to take another hit. Now that she thinks about it, he looks slightly confused. Scratch that, majorly confused.

“Uhh… didja zone out there?” Her voice breaks, with her tears still in her throat despite her tirade and his company.

“No — umm… s’fine.” He says, and he takes the hit immediately after.

“You sure?”

He doesn’t respond. Instead he forces his eyes shut, his mouth closed. He seems… deeply focused. But not on her. His lips are pursed.

“Heyy. Hey. You listening to me?”

He holds his hand up, eyes still closed — then breathes out for a good long while — painstakingly long, in fact — smoke pouring from his mouth, forcing it all out. After getting most of it out, he lets out a tiny cough, then opens his eyes. “Yeah. S’all good. Keep talking if ya want.” He doesn’t really look like he cares, but Sydney doesn’t care either. She looks back down at her cup, now drained of most of her drink. She makes her decision.

“No, I’m good. I should… probably leave now.” She wants to get a good cry out right about now and it just doesn’t feel right to bawl her eyes out in front of this stranger.

“You’re leaving?” The stranger asks, and it’s the most lucid she’s seen him so far.

Sydney doesn’t answer him. “I… I know this is weird, but thanks for listening to me — uhhh, here — here’s my number.” She fishes in her pocket for some paper and a tool to write with and scribbles it down, handing it to him. It’s the least she can do to show she’s thankful — it’s not like she has much else to give.

She turns to leave, but stops herself.

“Oh yeah, uh— what was your name?”

“Hm?” He sounds surprised. “Oh. Um… it’s Saul.”

“Sydney,” she offers in return. “…Thanks, Saul.”

And then she’s gone, returning back to the crowd.

Metamorphosis taglist: @angelphone1

[mikathemonster]

Hi there, I hope you have a good day 😊

I was wondering about your prompt list, and I really like the dialogue prompt 2 and situation prompt 4. And if you would be comfortable with writing something based on this I would really appreciate it😊

"wishes on starlight"

author's note: what a combo! this one actually had me stumped for a bit on how to tackle it, so I applaud you for helping me work through my current writer's block. this also gave me a chance to work on my dividers (I made them a little thinner, and so far I like it). also, I'm not sure which character you wanted for this, so I took the liberty of choosing for you :)

based on this prompt post!!

Pairing: Kíli / Gender-Neutral Human Reader

Word Count: 7,367

summary: when trouble came in the form of unexpected guests, you never expected to give your heart away so easily...

content warnings: I pull more background from the book versus the movies in this one for the sake of Beorn (love him but he might be a little OOC), fluff, yearning, mutual pining, angst <333

DO NOT REPOST OR COPY. MINORS/AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT.

For all your life, the buzz of oversized bees had been nothing but comforting to your ears. A gentle reminder of kinder times. But today your fuzzy friends had been buzzing with curiosity and uncertainty. You had heard it earlier just after the master of the house had left but had paid no mind to it. After all, you had chores to be done around the house.

Soon, Beorn had returned from checking on the bees in his surrounding pastures. He came in with his usual rough countenance, his face worn from the sun and the smell of honey and oak lingering about him. You had heard him come in all the way from the back of the house, his heavy feet making thumps on the hardwood floors. There was no need to greet him; you knew well that the skin-changer liked his loneliness. Thinking back on it, you were surprised he let you stay with him at all when he could have easily given you away or left you in the woods all those years ago. You smiled to yourself as you folded some of the leftover laundry, thinking of the tall man’s kindness. 

But your thoughts soon drifted away as more thumps and stomps could be heard, this time coming from the back of the house where the stables were located. Curious, you abandoned your laundry and followed the sound to see some of your friends stamping the ground with a worrying intensity. Their hooves dug into the ground beneath them, and you furrowed your brows in worrying confusion. “Is everything alright, what is it?” You asked them, and it sounded like animal noises turned into talk, for you had come to learn the language of Beorn’s animals in all your time with him. The only language that seemed to escape you was that of his own bear tongue.

“Strangers,” they said. “We saw strangers on the eastern side.” You bit the inside of your cheek, worrying what outsiders could imply for your comfort and home. 

“You should go tell him, then,” you said, referring to Beorn. “They may try to wander this way.”

“And if they do?” They asked, their well-groomed hair shining as it caught the light when they stamped their hooves.

“That’s for him to find out,” you said, nodding. After all, he was the master of the house. Your friends were also quick to leave you as they made their way to the entrance of the house to let Beorn know of what they had seen. You sighed to yourself, hoping nothing troublesome would come out of it. But of course, you had to be wrong.

Trouble soon came to your doorstep fifteen-fold as thirteen dwarves, a hobbit, and a tall grey wizard joined you all for dinner that night. You yourself hadn’t come out into the dining hall to join them yet, still skeptical of them all. It wasn’t common for a group of this size to be openly wandering in the Wilderland. You wondered about their purpose, and whispered about it with your friends in the back of the house. But this time, you spoke with the greyhounds of the house instead of the horses.

“Y/N, you missed it,” one said with excitement. “They told such a grand story of how they came to find themselves here. Full of adventure, it was!”

“Yes, yes! They’ve been through all kinds of adventures, both scary and jolly,” said another. 

“And what did Beorn think of these adventures?” You had asked.

“Why, he loved it!” They said. “He knows not if it was the truth, but it was still a grand story nonetheless!”

“Then I suppose I shall have to see for myself,” you said, and off you went to join the dinner party with a twitch in your skeptical brow. Through the corridors, you found yourself in the dining hall, the light from the fireplace dancing about and casting warm shadows on the walls. For a moment, you were taken aback at the sight of such company. The wooden hall had not seen this many people or even such a gathering as this for quite some time. So long, in fact, that you couldn’t seem to remember your edge you had experienced earlier, your suspicion melting away for a moment as you realized how lovely it seemed to have company.

Who knows for how long you stood there watching, but it was enough for the grey wizard man to notice you, as he raised a brow and asked a question to Beorn after seeing you. Shifting in his chair at the head of the table, Beorn invited you over with a wave of his hand. “Y/N, come feast with us. I was just about to tell them about the woods of this land.”

Reluctantly, you joined him, sitting down on an empty seat that one of your sheep friends brought. Many of the company had already had more than their fair share and then some of food, and you wondered if all dwarves had appetites like this. It wasn’t nearly as much as Beorn ate, nor was it even comparable to say their appetites were rivals, but it still caught your eye nonetheless. Perhaps it was because you had never seen a dwarf, let alone so many at once. “And who is this?” The wizard asked, seated at the other end of the table. 

“Why, this is Y/N. They are my groundskeeper,” Beorn said. You gave him a small nod in acknowledgement, thankful for the introduction.

“A groundskeeper, you say?” One of the dwarves asked. He seemed to be the oldest, with a long white beard that certainly rivaled Beorn’s. And won. “I’d think such a job wouldn’t be necessary with all the help you have from your animals.”

Beorn laughed at this as you slowly began to eat, tearing apart a small honey cake that had caught your eye. “And still with all this help, I have need for more. Y/N helps where they can, and I am grateful.”

You smiled, grateful for such words, though it wasn’t the whole story. Indeed, while you did help around the grounds whenever he was away, it was a little more than just that. Twenty years ago, Beorn’s greyhounds had found you at the edges of Mirkwood’s daunting trees, abandoned by your parents who had wandered into the dark forest. On the first day when his greyhounds told him, Beorn didn’t even bother to come see. Humans were dumb creatures, and far more bold and stupid than he. On the second day, he came to look at you; you were crying and whining from lack of food or water, and he felt a bit of pity. But still, he did nothing, leaving you out in the summer sun in the event your parents would return. But on the third day, when no trace of your parents were left, Beorn knew they had most likely succumbed to the forest. It was only then that he took you in and raised you as his equal, feeding you berries and honey and cakes.

“The animals do much for us, and I in return help them,” you clarified, taking a drink of mead. The fermented liquid warmed your throat as it made its way down.

The rest of the night went smoothly, and soon your suspicions were beginning to evaporate as you all grew to enjoy each other’s company, telling stories of your own lives and such. Beorn cared not for the tales of gold and treasure from the dwarves, but you found yourself fascinated by every outlandish detail. Gems that sparkle just like the stars? You had never seen such a thing, and it puzzled you to think of just how much about the world you didn’t know.

You found yourself enjoying the stories of the little hobbit the most, as his tales seemed much more relatable, filled with carrots, flowers, and farming. He was even a bit of a gardener, which prompted you to ask thousands of questions about plants and the like. Indeed, the night went on much like this, filled with chatter and mead and firelight. Soon, Beorn retired early, heading to the back of the house where he could leave without being noticed. He seemed concentrated on something, and you wondered if he was going to check the credibility of how the dwarves had come to your home. But for now, it was just you and the wizard and the hobbit and the dwarves, who soon began to trickle out to the beds the animals had laid out for them as they dozed off.

You found yourself wide awake this night, sleep escaping you as the white beams of the high moon trickled in from the skylights above in the roofing. Many of the animals had gone to bed as well, the normal sounds of paws and hooves pounding on the wooden floors now absent amidst the quiet deafness of the night. You had kept the fire going up until now, as the final embers slowly began their own descent into death. It was nights like this where your mind seemed to conjure the wildest dreams, both in sleep and while you were awake. You imagined jewels like the dwarves had spoken of, glittering white like pure starlight. You wondered if there were jewels of other various colors, too. Did some shimmer like the scales of the fish in the river? Was it possible for them to glow like the sun on a hot summer day? These were the thoughts on your mind as you lay in the slivers of moonlight shining down on the floor.

But these thoughts were soon interrupted as you heard footsteps approaching. It wasn’t Beorn, for surely he was still out. No, these feet were much smaller and more stout as one of the dwarves had come out from his sleep, his eyes bleary in the dark of the night. It was one of the younger ones, the archer who had sat next to Balin. Kíli, you thought, trying to remember his name. “Can I help you?” You said.

“I heard growling coming from outside these walls,” he whispered through sleepiness. “It woke me up.”

“Ah, so he is near,” you said, muttering mostly to yourself. You must have been too accustomed to such noises as to notice them. “It’s nothing dangerous, as long as you don’t go outside.”

“It’s just as the wizard said, then,” he said, coming closer. “Beorn… does he really… I mean, can he really change his skin?”

“All the time,” you nodded. “But he does it most at night, when he can freely wander these lands.”

“Mahal…” he muttered. It seems he hadn’t believed the wizard earlier, but hearing your words seemed to sway him. “And what of you? Are you also like him?”

“Me?” You scoffed, shaking your head. “No, I’m afraid I’m more ordinary in that sense. I am nothing more than a man.”

“You’re nothing ordinary if you’re living in such a fine home as this,” he said, and soon he sat himself near you in the moonlight. You didn’t object. “And why are you awake so late in the night?”

“Ah,” you smiled. “I can’t sleep. It seems your stories at dinner have fed my thoughts too well.”

Now it was his turn to chuckle, and you found yourself smiling at his laugh. “So you dream while awake, then? I imagine that’s quite lovely.”

“Do you dream often?” You asked, curious of dwarves and their habits.

Silence fell over him for a moment as his expression fell. “Not lately. At least, not nice ones. The journey has gotten hold over my dreams, for now all I see are frightening images when I close my eyes.”

You frowned, feeling sympathy for the poor dwarf. “I’m sorry to hear that, I didn’t mean to bring up such scary things.”

He gave a small smile at your words, shaking his head. “Don’t worry; I’ve become too used to it lately. I’m glad the growls woke me up, it helped me break free of such dreams for the night.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, wracking your brain for any thought of how to help this man. “Perhaps,” you said. “Perhaps you can tell me of your more beautiful dreams, then?” You scooted yourself closer to him, his hair shining in the moonlight as his eyes met yours.“Alright then,” he smiled, a rosy glow about him. And so the night went on, as he told you wild dreams of hunting and adventure and even ridiculous ones that seemed like utter nonsense.

The next day, as you were tending the gardens in the front yard, Kíli had seemed to want more of your presence. Whenever he wasn’t in discussion with his kin and peers, he was wandering the grounds and looking for you. It didn’t take him long to find you covered in dirt in the morning sun as you worked to check on your carrot and potato plants. “Good morning,” you said. “Did you manage to get any rest last night?”

“I did, yes,” he said, nodding. “Though I had no dreams.”

“Well,” you rose, dusting the soil off of your knees. “I suppose no dreams are better than bad ones.”

“Agreed,” he said, humming in delight. He quite enjoyed talking to you. “And what of you? Did you sleep well?”

“I never slept,” you said, chuckling. “When we parted ways, I still couldn’t find myself tired. Your tales kept me awake yet again. So here I am, still up and about.”

“You astound me,” he looked at you with a twinkle of awe in his eyes. “I’ve been on the journey for quite some time and even I cannot operate well without sleep.”

You sighed, now stepping out of the plant box as you dusted your feet off in the grass. “While it may be more cozy than your travels, I can assure you I am kept well busy. There’s always much to do around the house, especially when Beorn is away.”

“I see,” he stooped, scratching the back of his head. He wanted to say more, but didn’t know how to do so. For once in a very long while, he was anxious in his conversation.

A quiet breeze silenced the both of you now as you both sat in the slight tension that had been caused, but you were quick to get back to work, fetching the water pail so you could rinse the dirt off of you, not wanting to track it into the house. “Well, is there anything I could help you with?” You asked, noticing he still hadn’t left yet. You didn’t necessarily want him to leave, but you didn’t understand why he would stay, either.

“Oh, right. Well,” he muttered, trying to find himself again. Then he drew a breath, and finally met your gaze. “I wanted to ask you of your dreams.” He smiled, and it seemed to beam brighter than the sun itself, his eyes twinkling with curiosity. It was very lovely to see.

“My dreams?” You repeated, raising a brow. “What of them?”

“Last night,” he said, stepping forward to approach you. “Our conversation about dreams and thoughts, it made me wonder what kinds you have, if you have any of your own.”

“If I ever have my own thoughts?” You scoffed.

“Oh my, no! I meant dreams,” he corrected, very quickly too. He seemed a bit nervous. “I loved our conversation, but it felt one-sided. I wanted to know more about you.”

“You’re so forward, Master Dwarf,” you teased, and finally you stopped fiddling with your clothes and the water. “Well, what would you like to know?” You guided him to the other side of the garden where a large oak tree stood, inviting him to sit with you beneath it.

“I suppose whatever you’d like to tell me,” he smiled. “Starting with your dreams?”

“Ah, my dreams,” you nodded, humming to yourself. “If I’m being honest, I forget many of my dreams. They always escape me quickly when I wake up, you see. But I do remember one distinctly.” You smiled as the memory came to mind, thinking on it fondly. Kíli nodded at this, encouraging you to continue. “It started with me gazing at the sky, something I often like to do, when all of a sudden the stars seemed to come alive, dancing and jumping like rabbits in the sky.”

“Rabbits?” He asked, thoroughly intrigued.

“Indeed,” you answered. “And they were brilliant in color, too! With so many shades of blues and greens I have never seen since then. They seemed to come down from the sky and join me, dancing with me in the grass.”

“Do you think of rabbits when you see the stars now?” He said, a smile on his face as he imagined it for himself.

“No, not as rabbits. I think of friends,” you said, smiling softly. “I like to think each star that twinkles is a friend, whether or not I’ve met them yet.”

“Sounds rather warm and fuzzy,” he chuckled.

“Do you disagree?” You asked, raising a brow.

“No, it’s just,” he thought for a moment before he continued. “I always thought it is a cold light, stars. Distant and far away.”

“Well, sometimes friends are far from reach,” you said, drawing a breath. “But that doesn’t take their warmth away whenever you embrace them, does it?”

He smiled, eyes taking you in for a moment, and this was the first time where you couldn’t read his expression. You flushed, clearing your throat to avoid the tension. You felt so seen, but so much so that it made you nervous.

“I’ve seen the stars dance before, once,“ you said, trying to shift the subject. Something about the way that he looked at you made you feel all warm inside, and you didn’t know why. “Three shots across the sky all at once, passing beyond the moon and the mountain.” 

“I saw a fire moon once,” he said, and you turned your head in curiosity, silently begging him to continue. “It rose over the pass near Dunland. Huge. Red and gold, it was. It filled the sky.”

“I saw it too!” You grinned, recognizing now of what he spoke. “It peeked over the mountains right over there.” You pointed to the Misty Mountains, showing him where you had seen it. He grinned, turning to face you.

“It was so bright, there was no need for a torch,” he said, and you nodded in agreement. “Oh, it made the caverns shine. I wish I could show you.”

“Perhaps if our paths meet again, you can,” you said, placing your hand over his. He stared at your gesture for a moment before meeting your eyes again, smiling. He nodded.

“I will. I promise.”

Soon, you were interrupted by two beautiful horses approaching you, and you realized you still hadn’t finished your chores for the day. You quickly rose to your feet, brushing yourself off as you offered him a hand. He took it, and you helped him up. “My apologies, but it seems I must return to my duties.” You explained.

“I understand,” he nodded. “I should return to the others.”

You nodded back in acknowledgement and began to walk away when suddenly he caught your arm in his hand, causing you to turn back to face him with a puzzled look on your face.

“Y/N,” he said. “Will I see you again?”

You thought for a moment, envisioning your schedule in your mind. “I live here, so of course,” you said, and he smiled at this. “Tonight.”

“Perhaps you can show me your friends in the sky, then.” He said, and suddenly that weird warm feeling returned in your cheeks.

You didn’t see many of the dwarves for the rest of the day, save for Ori and Dori who seemed positively captivated by the wildflowers that grew in the lush grass surrounding Beorn’s home. Gandalf soon returned to the house as well, just before sunset, a tip of his hat bidding you a welcome as you smiled in return. It seemed he had been rather busy out all day, following along the bear tracks Beorn and his friends had left.

You soon finished much of your chores, ending them by harvesting the honey from the oversized bees just as the sun changed the sky to brilliant shades of pink and orange. You looked up in awe, taking the moment in for just a second as a gentle breeze blew from the mountains. You wondered if the dwarves knew of any gems that looked like a fiery sunset such as this one. Perhaps you would ask Kíli about it later.

When you returned inside from the back of the house, you noted the lack of Beorn’s presence, wondering if he would return tonight or tomorrow. He must be out still, close to the mountains by now. In his true form, it didn’t take long for him to cover much ground by walking or running. You wondered what he was doing out there, lurking in the night. But nights like these were common in your household, so the thought passed almost as quickly as it had come.

Walking into the home, you noticed everyone had already had their fill of dinner provided by the animals, the smell of honey cakes and cream filling your nostrils as you made your way into the kitchen to feed yourself. You put away some of the honey you had harvested today, crouching down to grab some more food out of the cupboards. Some of your dog friends wandered into the kitchen, sniffing you out as they smiled. “Oh, you’re back!” They called.

“Yes, and hungry too,” another remarked. 

You chuckled, sitting on the floor as you ate your fill. “And what have you all done today?”

“We’ve been waiting on the guests,” they said. “Just as Beorn said.”

“They speak of the strangest places!” Another said. “Full of caves and gems!”

“Have you enjoyed their stories?” You asked, munching on your meal.

“Of course,” they said. “Though their songs make me drowsy.”

“Songs? What songs?” You raised a brow, tilting your head a little. But your friends wouldn’t have the chance to answer, for soon a strange humming sound filled the air. This sound caught all of your attention, for soon you rose to creep over into the main hall where everyone sat, the taste of honey on your tongue as the hums of dwarves morphed into song.

The wind was on the withered heath, but in the forest stirred no leaf: there shadows lay by night and day, and dark things silent crept beneath.

The wind came down from mountains cold, and like a tide it roared and rolled; the branches groaned, the forest moaned, and leaves were laid upon the mould.

The wind went on from West to East; all movement in the forest ceased, but shrill and harsh across the marsh its whistling voices were released.

You found yourself entranced by their deep voices as they seemed to boom and echo in the great wooden halls. The fire flickered below the mantle, casting an eerie glow around the room as the shadows of the dwarves danced around you. Thorin and Bofur and Dwalin’s voices were especially recognizable as they stood out the most, their deep and velvety timbres reigning over the voices and hums of the others as the fire crackled in its place. For a moment, you felt as though you could feel the wind they spoke of, their song coming to life in your mind as you imagined the pictures they described. It must have been the same for them as well, for none of them noticed you as you came into the room, too lost in the memory of their melody as they sang.

The grasses hissed, their tassels bent, the reeds were rattling—on it went o’er shaken pool under heavens cool where racing clouds were torn and rent.

It passed the lonely Mountain bare and swept above the dragon’s lair: there black and dark lay boulders stark and flying smoke was in the air.

It left the world and took its flight over the wide seas of the night. The moon set sail upon the gale, and stars were fanned to leaping light.

As the song came to a close, you couldn’t help but feel so deeply sorrowful, as if a part of you too had lost something just as they had. The feeling of the winds around you died down, if they were ever there to begin with, and a smoky aroma filled the air as more embers burned brightly and wildly in the fireplace. A single tear ran down your cheek, but you were quick to wipe it away, not wanting to cause a scene. You now had a whole new view of these guests in your home, guests who didn’t have a home of their own.

After dwelling in the moment for a little while longer, Gandalf stood up, bidding that all the dwarves and the lone hobbit should get some rest for the night. He warned them once again to not wander outside during the night, just as Beorn had warned them before. You noticed at the other end of the hall, some of Beorn’s animals were returning from setting up beds for the guests, and you were suddenly reminded that you had left the food out in the kitchen. Now finally brought out of your reverie, you returned to your meal. But you were no longer hungry after hearing such a sad tale and song, and so you found yourself putting the food away, leaving the scraps out for your sheep friends as some of them passed by, heading to the pastures.

By the time you returned to the great hall, many of the dwarves were busy getting comfortable in their beds, save for Kíli, who sat on a bench in front of the fireplace as he watched the sparks dance among the wood and smoke. He looked so tiny in comparison to the bench, it made you smile as you joined him. 

His eyes lit up as he saw you sit down, a smile gracing his features. “You’re here,” he said.

“Am I not supposed to be here?” You questioned. “I live here, you know.”

“Of course,” he laughed. “But I haven’t seen you since this morning.”

“I was busy,” you explained. “I just finished eating in the kitchen.”

“Oh, I see,” he said. “So you heard us?”

You nodded, looking into the fire for a moment, watching the flames dance. “I did. It’s amazing, the way you tell stories. Beorn doesn’t sing, he doesn’t care for it.”

“For us, well, we do it often when longing in the night,” he said. A wistful expression decorated his face as he also turned to look into the flames. Though a smile lingered on his face, it was once again harder to read.

“And what do you long for, Kíli?” You asked, your eyes taking in his features as that weird and warm feeling returned. You liked being close to him. He felt safe. He drew in a breath, seeming to be overwhelmed by the question as he searched his mind for an answer.

“Home,” he spoke. “I long to help my kin reclaim their home. I long for my mother to return to her home. And for myself, I long to find my own meaning of the word.”

“That’s very admirable,” you said. “Your mother, is she far from you?”

“Aye,” he said. “It was tough, having to leave her and join this company. She almost didn’t let me or my brother go. She thinks I’m too reckless.”

You chuckle. “And are you?”

“Nah,” he smiled, teasingly pushing your shoulder with his own, and the contact brought that warm feeling to your face. “And what of you? What do you long for, Y/N?”

You drew a breath, trying not to dwell on how you loved the way he said your name. It was safe to say he was already your favorite guest in your home. “It may sound silly, but ever since you all spoke of gems, I’ve longed to see one. I wonder if they look like stars.”

“Some do,” he said, and your eyes lit up. All your attention was on him. Nothing else existed in this moment, save for the moon and the fire kindling below the mantle. “Some even glow like the moon. But my favorites are the ones as deep as the sky. Oh, I wish I could show you one.”

“A shame, truly.” You sighed.

“But perhaps,” he said, taking your hand in his, and you felt yourself flush at the contact. “Perhaps we can look at the stars and pretend they are gems. And once my kin have reclaimed the mountain and our treasure, I’ll return and bring you jewels as bright as fire and as deep as water.”

“That sounds lovely,” you smiled, warmth spreading to your cheeks. “You would do that?”

“If it means seeing you again, then I wouldn’t think twice,” he said. You lost your breath for a moment, finding yourself awestruck. 

“But it’s so late in the night for watching stars. Shouldn’t you rest?” You lightly squeezed his hand.

“I can lie awake a moment longer, if it’s with you.” He spoke so earnestly and so easily, as if the words had always existed in his mind, and you suddenly felt so many confusing feelings all at once. You had only just met this man, but already could see that you would miss him dearly when it would come time for him to leave. That warm and fuzzy feeling was growing quite strong the more he spoke.

You stood up, letting the fire die on its own as you took his hand in yours, guiding him up. You trusted him enough for this. “Come, let me show you my favorite place.”

Leading him behind you, you brought him to yours and Beorn’s shared room, which glowed with the pale moonlight that filtered in from another skylight as the light shown on your bed. You sat yourself down on it, inviting him to join you as you pointed up at the moon that showed through the roof. “It always looks the most beautiful here, when I come to sleep. I dream of it often.”

He sat next to you, leaning awfully close as he met where you pointed up at the sky. But you didn’t mind. “I can see why this is your favorite place. The view is gorgeous.”

“Isn’t it? It’s even more beautiful during a sunset,” you whispered, excited to have shared this space with a stranger. “All the colors of the sky can be seen, bright oranges and pinks and sometimes even purple.”

Kíli’s eyes beamed as they took in your beauty, a warm smile growing on his face. You wouldn’t be aware, but he hadn’t been speaking of the moon just then, as his gaze lay transfixed on you.

“Well, I’m here to see the stars. So, show me your favorite rabbits,” he said, and you laughed. 

“I told you, I don’t think of them as rabbits,” you corrected, and soon found yourself pointing out various constellations you had come up with yourself. You pointed out each of your favorite stars in the seasonal sky as the moon waned on, which soon prompted Kíli to speak of the constellations of his own people. You listened eagerly, the difference in your lives leaving you to look at him in awe. You two came from worlds apart, and yet here you both were. It was a comforting thought, and soon you found yourself falling asleep to the sound of his soft voice as the both of you lay on your bed looking at the moon.

The next day, you awoke late in the day and alone in your bed, the sound of haughty laughter and cheers in the great hall stirring you awake. Only one person could make such a deep laugh; Beorn must finally be home. A part of you felt upset when you awoke to find Kíli gone, wondering if it had all been a dream, but you were much too excited to see Beorn again that you pushed those thoughts away.

You walked into the great hall to see a wonderful sight of laughter and joy and stories being told as Beorn told the others where he had been over honey and bread and cream. Even your animal friends were all listening, or at least those that could fit in the house. He sat tall and proud at the head of his wooden table as he recounted to the dwarves where he had been for the past two days. You were quick to join them at the table, seating yourself at the end next to Nori as you silently fed yourself on the food placed in front of everyone.

Soon, everyone began enthralled in conversation, with Gandalf and Thorin and Beorn quietly talking amongst themselves of what the rest of their journey would entail. You couldn’t hear much, save for the bits and pieces of Beorn saying he would offer some of his ponies and food to them on their journey, at least until they would make it to Mirkwood. And suddenly you found yourself dwelling in sadness as you realized that everyone, Kíli included, would be leaving soon. It felt like an ache in your chest, though you knew not what it meant. All you knew was that you weren’t ready to see him go just yet.

Silently excusing yourself, you left the great hall and headed through the back door to the stables, needing some fresh air for yourself as you mulled over your feelings and thoughts. None of your horse friends were in the stables, as they were all much too busy grazing in the pastures surrounding your home. And so, seated in the hay in the shade, you pondered to yourself.

You barely knew Kíli, and yet you knew his absence would leave you hurt. Every time he looked at you, you found yourself growing warm and fuzzy and flustered. You had no idea what it meant, but you felt as though being without his smile would be like being without the sun: forever overcast and cloudy. 

But soon, you found yourself no longer alone as the harrowing height of Beorn joined you in the stables, as he came in scratching his beard when he found you upon the hay. “The horses, where have they gone?” He asked.

“Out for a run,” you answered, your voice soft against the wind as the cool breeze passed through the wood of the stable, whispering in the blades of grass between you two.

“And why do you take their place?” He said, his voice deep and coated in honey and cream. 

“I came to breathe,” you said, running a hand through your hair. “But the more I think about it, the less I can feel the air in my lungs.”

“Do you speak of the dwarf?” He asked, and suddenly your eyes widened. How did he know? But he was quick to answer your unspoken question, for he knew you well and could read the question from your face. “I saw him in your bed this morning when I returned.”

“You’re not upset?” You asked, genuinely curious of what he thought of your and Kíli’s relationship.

“I win nothing by pretending to care,” he said. “Besides, he is not my business. He is yours.” A breath of understanding left your lips as he spoke, some of the tension leaving your body. With a smooth movement, he joined you in the hay, his huge body making you feel small as you joined the shadows and the shade of the stables. And yet, you knew you were safe. “Tell me. What worries you?”

You drew a breath which left your lips as a sigh, all of your troubled emotions returning to the front of your mind as you tried to figure out how you would word your worries to Beorn. You knew you had to tell him, there was no point in hiding it. “I do not wish for him to go.” You said. 

“But you know he cannot stay,” Beorn warned. “It’s not in his will.”

“I know,” you nodded. “And I know that I cannot join him.” You hesitated, thinking before you continued. “And yet, I worry that even the stars won’t shine the same if he is not with me to enjoy their beauty.”

“Does he know this?” Beorn asked.

“No,” you answered. “I haven’t had the heart to tell him, though in truth I only just recently realized such things.”

“You must tell him,” Beorn said.

“But how can I be sure that he feels the same?” You frowned.

“He shared your bed, Y/N. He shared your stars,” he said. “I’m sure he too shares your heart.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, mulling it over for yourself. There was a chance you would never see him again, so of course you knew you had to tell him. You looked up at Beorn, giving him a grateful nod. “Thank you, Beorn.”

“Thank me when he is gone, after you have told him.” He said, a gruff voice through the soft wind.

It was night now, and everyone was fast asleep. Once again, you found yourself restless and yearning for the guidance of the moon as she shimmered through the skylight. Finding the dwarves busy with their journey’s preparations for the remainder of the day, you hadn’t had the chance to get a hold of Kíli’s attention much at all. But you knew it was important, and so you decided against interrupting, hoping he’d stay up to meet you like he had for the past few nights.

Your heart skipped a beat when he did, glad you had placed your bets on him as he quietly made his way over to you, a smile on his face when you looked up at him. You patted the moonlit floor next to you, inviting him into your space as you couldn’t help but return his smile. The warm and fuzzy feeling returned, but you worried about whether it would last after tonight’s intended conversation. 

“I’m so glad you’re awake,” he said. “You’ve been on my mind all day.”

“I have?” You asked, slightly surprised when he nodded his head.

“Yes,” he said. “And for that, I’m glad the moon has kept you here.”

You smiled, taking his hand into yours. “Kíli, I…” you couldn’t find yourself to say it out loud, feeling anxious. You drew a breath, pushing onward. “I’ll miss you.” There was no point in saying you wished he could stay or anything of the sort; you knew he had to do this, you knew he had to leave you, and you knew he had to take this journey. It was in his blood, it was who he was. But oh, you wished you could have more time. Just a few minutes more to learn more of who he was, and what he could be to you. You could already feel the ache burning in your chest.

His smile fell slightly, now tinged with sadness of his own as he nodded. “We leave early tomorrow afternoon,” he said. “Thorin is eager to get back on the road.”

“And yourself?” You asked, baiting your breath.

“My spirit is with him,” he explained. “But I’m afraid my heart lies in other places.”

“Such as where?” You asked.

“In the stars,” he answered, looking to the sky before returning your gaze. “In the moonlight.”

“The moonlight?” You said.

“My heart lies with you, amrâlimê,” he said, his voice soft as he spoke his native tongue.

“What does that mean?” You asked, drawing a breath.

“It means that when I travel far from this place and look up into the night sky, rabbits will follow me,” he answered, inching closer. “For each time I gaze at the stars and see the moon full of light, I shall think of you, if you permit it.”

You exhaled, tears coming to your eyes as the meaning of his words sunk in. So he did feel the same! Words escaped you, but you eagerly nodded, your hand rising to cup his face as you eagerly leaned in to place a chaste kiss upon his lips. He returned with one of his own, learning in and letting your foreheads rest against each other. You couldn’t help the tears that fell, both mingled with the emotions of relief and joy and sorrow and worry. “Yes, I permit it.”

“I’m glad,” he smiled. “Though even if you had said no, my mind would be filled with thoughts of you still.”

You laughed at this, smiling through your tears as you looked into his deep brown eyes. “I wish I could go with you,” you breathed.

He shook his head. “Soon, I promise. When the gates of my fathers are reopened for all, I promise I will return to take you with me. I’ll show you everything, from the caverns to the gems to the great feasts of my kin.”

“I would want nothing more,” you said. And soon a silence fell over you two as you both realized this was the last night you would have to spend together for a considerable time. You would both be far from one another, and it was a painful thought. And though you were already crying, you didn’t want this last moment together to be one of sadness. “We shall have the stars, then. The stars shall be our gems until we can reunite.”

“I promise I will return,” he said solemnly. “And when I do, I want to know everything about you. Even the parts hidden away from anyone.”

“It would be hard to hide them from someone as nosy as you,” you joked, and his laugh brought a smile to your face. And for a while you two sat together like this, looking upon the stars with a newfound fondness.

The next day, the final day, happened all too quickly. By the time you awoke, breakfast was quickly eaten and provisions were eagerly packed away on the ponies Beorn had promised to offer to the company of Thorin Oakenshield. With sad eyes, you watched as your newfound lover rode away from your home, heading to the treacherous Mirkwood forest as he disappeared on the horizon of the Wilderlands. It was one of the rare days where none of your friends spoke to you for the remainder of the sun’s light, warned by Beorn to give you space.

The first month without him was much sadder than you thought it would be, but you soon found strength at night whenever you would gaze upon the stars. The second month was almost completely back to normal for you, and by the third month you were already back on your feet and quite well for yourself.

Six months came and no word followed. You had already been worried by now, and even Beorn had no answers for you when it came to why Kíli had not yet returned. You tried your best to find strength in the moonlight, but it was all you had as of late, and your faith was wearing thin.

A total of eight months later, the wizard returned, but it was no merry visit. He told you of the reclaiming of Erebor, the battle of the five great armies, and soon you realized all too quickly why Kíli hadn’t returned. That was the last time you saw the wizard, for by the time he ever visited again, you had left Beorn and your friends to wander into the world on your own, hoping by some miracle that you could journey far enough from the heartache and ruin that you now lived by.

For Kíli could not return to you, nor would he ever again.

[talesfrommedinastation]

In Defense of Tech's Hairline

It breaks my heart when I see fan art of Tech with a full head of hair. 

While I don’t mind seeing different versions of him (darker skin and different features to better resemble Temuera Morrison is awesome, and I love it!), it does seem as if fans are trying to override a critical part of aging for many adults. 

After all, 50% of biological men will lose their hair before 50, 25% of them before the age of 21. 21! 

So, when people change Tech’s hairline, it makes me feel quite sad. It’s something that many people go through, and it’s as if the message is: “If you’re balding, you’re not handsome enough. I need to fix that.”  

(Tech's skin, bone structure, and puppy dog eyes prove that statement is wrong, as seen above).

Which is far from the truth. There’s plenty of incredibly handsome folks with less hair, but even so, it’s a part of aging that many people are incredibly insecure and embarrassed about, because society sees thick hair as beautiful, and receding or balding as old or silly. 

Look, I’m a lady with long blond hair in real life. So why am I worked up about this? 

Well, let me tell a quick story, namely, of a guy I know who reminds me so much of Tech. 

That guy is my husband of almost a decade. 

A chief systems engineer with a graduate degree in science, my husband is an adrenaline junkie, an Eagle Scout, a gaming geek, and an absolute loving papa bear to our daughters. He’s Tech IRL, and it’s part of the reason I fell head over heels in love with that member of Clone Force 99. 

(Above: Tech, but I'm sure my spouse has said that to me when I've asked when we're finally going on vacation to Hawai'i).

My husband and I met in graduate school, when he was 23 and  I was 24. He wrestled in high school, and did competitive jiu-jitsu throughout undergrad and graduate school as well. As a result, his fair hair was always buzzed, making it impossible to grab during a grapple. But there was another reason he kept his hair very short.

My then-boyfriend was already going bald, in his early 20’s. 

He could have been sensitive about it, but, ever the stoic cowboy type (I married a Texan, what can I say?) he just shrugged it off, and kept his hair barely above stubble, so few noticed. Eventually, he grew it out, but his receding hairline still bothered him.

He made up for it by growing a magnificently sculpted beard, but snarky remarks from friends and strangers still came through, ranging from how he looked older than me, to asking who he was cursed by to have so much facial hair but none on his head. 

Finally, the inevitable ‘halo’ happened, shortly after our wedding. You know what I’m talking about:

 My husband was not even 30. When he noticed the inevitable full loss of his hair, because of a friend’s unflattering picture of him on Facebook, the clippers came out, and he’s had a fully buzzed and shaved head (a la Captain Picard) ever since. 

Once in a while, he lets his hair grow back…and that hairline comes out, along with the halo on his crown. And guess who happened to be on the screen when my toddler and I were scrolling through Disney + one fine day? 

Sure enough, my almost two year old actually pointed at the screen and screamed, “DADA!” when Tech appeared. The fact that it was a scene where Tech was happily ignoring everyone and tapping away on his data pad was pure kismet--that was my husband on the screen!

My youngest and I got hooked on the show ever since. 

My husband is a dashing, handsome, confident guy who knows he’s smart and that he’s loved.

Just like Tech. 

Seeing the internet go donkey bonkers for him and that hairline of his makes me grin nonstop. (We will not discuss the finale on season 2 here and no, I have not let my toddler watch it either) I like knowing that a ton of people are absolutely simping and crushing on a guy with a receding hairline.

It gives me hope that many who are not feeling confident due to hair loss can see someone like Tech, and suddenly think: “The man is self-assured as all heck, and he has hair like me. Maybe I should be more like him!”

We do not talk as much about hair loss, because, ironically enough, Tech has a quote about it: "It is a fundamental part of life."

So, when I see Tech redrawn with a full head of hair, I just think of the heartache my poor honey went through as a young guy in his 20’s, already facing an inevitable part of aging the vast majority do not look forward to. 

It's inevitable, but there's plenty of handsome dudes with little to no hair, ranging from Picard to Jason Statham and now, our animated neurodivergent prince of the Marauder. I love his hairline.

 Besides, we all can’t be Howzer, dang it, with his flawless fade and mop of glorious hair.

("Howzer deserves his own issue of Tiger Beat," - Reddit)

[blossom-hwa]

yeonjun + rocker!au courtesy of @/wingkkun <3

chai (@wingkkun) you are my favorite person ever <3 thanks for dealing with me and my stupid ideas <3 and thank you for giving me an excuse to write this <3 <3 love you very much <3 <3 <3

5 year anniversary drabble game: send me a Stray Kids/TXT/Golden Child/Ateez/The Boyz member + a prompt (check out the post for ideas) and I’ll write a drabble for you!

(this is an old idea I had for san but have now repurposed for yeonjun. sue me. I'm very good at recycling.)

REQUESTS OPEN!!

~

Title: Rain to Be

Pairing: Yeonjun x gender neutral!reader

Word count: 1.5k

Warnings: mentions of alcohol

~

Set the scene. A bar two streets from the university, lights dimmed between sets. Everyone’s talking, drinking, laughing, waiting for the next band to come on stage and start their set. 

It starts like this: Yeonjun multitasking behind the bar, cleaning several glasses, wiping down the table, flashing flirty smiles and mixing up drinks for the many tipsy students wasting their money this fine Friday night. He takes a shot in the back courtesy of Soobin as Taehyun watches with one disapproving eyebrow raised, but Yeonjun can hold his alcohol. One shot barely makes him buzzed. 

Or so he believes until the next band comes on stage. 

Because - it can’t be anything but alcohol turning up the heat in his face when he sees you on stage, right? A stranger, a singer, a university student in a rock band with the most beautiful voice and most alluring smile would never fluster him like this. He’s the one who does the flustering most of the time, sending winks and flying kisses to the giggling tipsy patrons of the bar. Even in the light of day, Yeonjun is the one who gives out his number, asks for someone’s instagram, laughs and charms and sweet-talks his way into what he needs and what he wants. He’s been flustered, sure, but never this fast and never by someone who hasn’t even noticed him, who isn’t even trying - 

Then you turn, and like in the movies, time seems to slow down as you lock eyes with him. 

Your smile is wild, the microphone in your hand held out to the side as you shift with the music. For a moment your gaze drifts to the side as you nod to the drummer and Yeonjun feels his stomach drop with disappointment (disappointment? Why disappointment? He doesn’t even know your name) right before his heart threatens to beat out of his chest when you turn back and lock eyes with him once more. 

He blushes. Really blushes, as in he’s certain that were it not for the dim lighting, anyone could see the red he knows must be creeping up his cheeks and ears. Hell, maybe people can see it right now. His face has never felt this hot because of another person before. 

Which is not helped by the smirk on your face as you finish the song staring right into his eyes, only looking away to take a bow when the entire bar begins to cheer.

He tears his eyes away from you, then, turning back to the bar where five glasses are waiting to be cleaned, the counter is waiting to be wiped, and several new people are waiting to be served. Taehyun doesn’t seem to have noticed anything, thank god, and when Beomgyu slides into a stool during the next song to chatter away in Taehyun’s ear, Yeonjun breathes a sigh of relief. Maybe he won’t go insane tonight, after all, if none of his best friends have seen him like this yet. 

Two (really good) songs later, out of the corner of his eye, Yeonjun sees someone sits down at the counter. One glance at Taehyun tells him that his coworker is still engrossed in conversation with Beomgyu, so Yeonjun lifts his lips in his signature smile to serve them -

He freezes. 

It’s you. 

Up close, you’re even more breathtaking than before. Your makeup has smudged, sweat beading on your forehead, but the smile on your face is as wild and charming as he thought when you first locked eyes on stage. 

Every single word he could have said immediately flies out of the window. 

But, as it turns out, it doesn’t matter. It isn’t just your smile that’s charming - you trick words out of him, one by one, until you’ve both been laughing and chatting at the bar for half an hour, then an hour, and then an hour and a half before someone’s yelling for you across the room and Taehyun’s calling him from the back, something about a drunk Soobin and a sleeping Beomgyu. You exchange glances - apologetic, brief, but accompanied with a good talking to you on his part (seriously? That’s all he could say to you?) and an I’ll see you again on yours. 

Yeonjun carries the high of that conversation with him throughout the rest of the night, barely caring when he has to drag Soobin’s drunk ass to Kai’s car, barely noticing when someone throws up right by the bar. He’s heading back to the dorms with Taehyun at around three in the morning when he has a realization that stops him right in his tracks. 

He never got your name. And more importantly, and more stupidly -

He never got your number. 

No one he talks to knows was at the bar that night. None of them know your band. Most of them think you and your bandmates probably don’t even go here - they go to the other university a few miles away. And despite your words, you never show up to Yeonjun’s little university bar again.

So he never sees you again. 

Until Beomgyu decides to get a tattoo, that is. 

. . . . .

Set the scene. A rainy day, almost torrential. Only a few cars are out as clouds pour the wrath of the gods onto the streets, everyone else hiding out indoors until the downpour stops, or at least eases. 

It starts like this: Beomgyu still doesn’t have a car so he’s hijacked Yeonjun’s (Yeonjun is driving, of course, because he absolutely does not trust Beomgyu with his only reliable mode of transportation), and he’s rambling about the tattoo he wants - a cluster of stars surrounding a little planet right on his ankle, it’s the cutest thing ever you’ll see Yeonjun it’ll be amazing. 

Yeonjun mostly wants to take a nap. 

But Beomgyu’s been so excited about this tattoo for the past two weeks, had looked so upset when the rain started pouring four hours before his appointment, that Yeonjun couldn’t do anything but offer up his car to get Beomgyu there and back. It’s not as if he has anything to do today, anyway - it’s his day off, and he was just going to spend it loafing around and sleeping. 

They arrive at the tattoo parlor and sprint inside under Yeonjun’s umbrella. They’re only a little bit soaked as Beomgyu pushes open the door, lighting up the parlor with his excitement as he checks in with the receptionist about his appointment. Soon, he’s in the back with the guy named Hongjoong who’s going to do his tattoo, and Yeonjun’s left to wait the hour or so out in the front.

He scrolls through his phone for half an hour until the repetitive drumming of rain on the windows begins threatening to put him to sleep. He’s about to give in, closing his phone and settling himself more comfortably in his chair, when someone emerges from the back and approaches the counter. 

The movement doesn’t really catch his eye, at first. He almost just ignores it. But something about the person’s voice pokes at something in the back of his mind, a reminder, a memory...

Yeonjun opens his eyes and sees you. 

It’s only for a second - almost as soon as he looks up, you give the receptionist a nod and a smile and disappear into the back again. But that minute smile was enough for Yeonjun to confirm that it’s you, it’s really you - the singer in that dark bar back in university, the one who locked eyes with him and made him blush and talked to him until the early hours of the morning.

The singer whose name he never learned, and whose number he never got. 

Yeonjun sits, frozen, until Beomgyu returns to the front, practically beaming with all his excitement. Yeonjun does his best to shake himself out of the daze, to act normal as Beomgyu pays for the tattoo and gets all the information he needs before heading back out to the car. The downpour has eased a little but new tattoos aren’t supposed to get wet, so Yeonjun volunteers to drive the car up front so Beomgyu doesn’t have to go out into the rain. 

Once in the car, damp and wide-eyed, Yeonjun takes a breath. Or tries to, anyway. It’s fine. It will all be fine. It was a chance occurrence, to see you again, and he shouldn't feel this shaken about it anyway. University has come and gone. He’s a semi-functioning adult now. He shouldn’t still be hung up over a thing that never happened - he’s not hung up over it. Absolutely not. 

Yeah. He takes another deep breath. Yeah, he’s not hung up over it at all. 

“What took you so long?” Beomgyu whines when he pulls up to the front. “I was waiting for you forever.”

“Nothing, Beomgyu,” is all Yeonjun says, avoiding Beomgyu’s eyes as he slides into the car. “Nothing at all.”

[comet-ribbon]

My Fix-it for Ts4

I've collected my thoughts and ideas that could have made Toy Story 4 a decent (yet then again an unnecessary sequel) in my take since sometimes this movie gives me headaches and wishful thinking that my true characters were there.

If some of you liked how this movie went, I respect your opinion. I, in my case, didn’t so this is for those who didn’t like it or just indifferent by it.

First of all, the starting point is Bonnie. If they followed up her love about Woody, then it would have easily respected everyone’s characters as they should be and the plot would have been better.

At this point everyone has commented how it went off character with her too so I won’t elaborate it here.

So, if Bonnie cared so much about Woody in ts4, it might have been a parallel to Andy missing him and Buzz when he was like 7(?)

Bonnie would be stressed and sad that she doesn’t know where Woody or Forky is. As shown in the montage she seemed happy playing Woody with Forky, being this new duo sort of pals.

And probably TS first all over again. But the thing is! That Woody's learned SO MUCH from the first movie and all that jazz.

He would have totally taught Forky About how being a toy is. Not in the funsies way in which the first TS did, they were obviously fun humor when it needed to. But with the falling point of Buzz' arc, it was a big deal and Woody helped him about his purpose.

Including Buzz and Jessie being now more experienced in this thing. Probably they could have become a stronger couple in assessing the toys and would have been cute af.

Forky wouldn’t be throwing himself away every damn time, in my take he would be confused in everything. He doesn't know why he's here. He doesn't even know why he has the form of a spork.

In my rewriting, he's literally a first-born, like Pinocchio.

Now ppl might be wondering, what would actually happen if Forky would have thrown himself away from the window? And the sidewalk thing happens?

Well. I have an idea. Instead of Bonnie cuddling Forky in her sleep. It’s Woody. Her parents would have told her that sleeping with her fork would be dangerous as it can hurt her when she doesn't know it.

Or it can be Jessie! since Bonnie is showing her sweet love to the cowgirl as well without making Woody being “neglected” She gets more appreciated in a good way, without shadowing Woody.

But I believe Woody has to be the focal point of this otherwise we wouldn’t get the talk on the sidewalk lmao.

If it’s the former, Woody has to make a quick decision whether stay in place with Bonnie or just going to bring Forky back.

Since we know our favorite doll and his great loyalty, he just tells Buzz they’ll be back soon, not knowing that he might see Bo again, delaying his mission and all that.

Probably Forky would still don't know about the dangers and he gets curious of going to the window. Again, his conscience is not developing yet. Bc he genuinely doesn't know anything yet.

Maybe and probably, once he gets sucked in, for the first time he's got a sense of fear and danger. Probably adding more personality than before.

For the first time ever, he developed the feeling of fear.

So, probably Woody would have told him in his experience, how when he was with Buzz, he saw the mutilated toys from Sid. And how they weren't able to speak or talk. Bc the actual body proportions were out of place, must have caused abnormalities in them.

That could make Forky more aware of his physical proportions. He also listens to his adventures of how Woody got his arm accidentally pulled off and how it even harmed him by the prospector when he threatened him.

Forky gets very fascinated by his storytellings and learn that strangers having to take things from you by force is morally wrong because of what Woody told him.

Heck, he even would have told him about Lotso! And how they were in the trash. Making Forky very scared, and just terrified of being there being useless.

So that situation happens when he sees that Gabby wants his voice box but remembers Woody's saying.

Might have changed the plot for the better.

So yeah, here are my thoughts so far! Would have loved to see my favorite trio work together in saving the spork and more suspense in facing the villain. Woody and Bo would have better off stayed being friends instead of a couple in the end because sometimes things don’t work anymore and could have been a good message for the audiences about relationships.

What do you guys think?

[a-skirmish-of-wit-and-lit]

Book Review: Twice in a Lifetime by Melissa Baron

Part The Lake House, part The Midnight Library, and part butterfly effect, this book has a cross-genre aspect to it that makes it a time-crossed love story as well as an achingly raw life story that's populated with heavy themes and emotions. Tackling things like chronic depression and anxiety, it gives pulse to real struggles. It gives delicate depiction to the gains and setbacks that people who suffer from these conditions experience on a daily basis.

For that reason, it can be intense and despairing to read at times. Overwhelming. As a reader, you feel everything. You suffer everything the characters suffer. However, it's also hopeful in the way that it champions love, compassion, empathy, and finding one's support unit in the unlikeliest of people and places.

After moving from Chicago to a small cottage in a St. Louis suburb, in need of a fresh start after her mother dies from cancer, Isla starts receiving text messages from a man who claims to be her future husband. She's pretty resistant at first. Disbelieving, too. (Who wouldn't be? It sounds impossible.) But he changes her mind by sending her a photo of them on their wedding day and revealing details about her that nobody else knows.

After that, she relents and they cautiously start a texting relationship. She learns that Ewan is sweet, patient, funny, and good-looking. She can talk to him. He also seems to love her for who she is, which is something she has a hard time wrapping her mind around thanks to an anxiety disorder that keeps her self-worth toddled to LOW and her mind buzzing with subjectively perceived failures.

In part, that is why Ewan is reaching out. He is texting through time in order to try and save her from a dark fate he won't discuss but will result in them no longer being together.

So the question becomes: what can Isla do to prevent that fate from occurring? How can she learn to be happy in the present? Grow? Accept herself and overcome her bad mental health days? And if she does manage to veers paths, what will happen? Will she be able to meet and fall in love with Ewan twice in the same lifetime?

I liked that this wasn't simply a lighthearted love story. I appreciated the representation of mental health struggles, feeling keenly for Isla as she attempted to get a handle on her intrusive thoughts - sometimes succeeding, sometimes not. That felt realistic to me. It was lovely that Ewan was so kind and patient with her, too. I think it's important to see compassion represented because we could all learn how to be more supportive and understanding, especially when it comes to health conditions people are suffering from that are invisible.

The timeline structure and pacing could have been better, though. Isla and Ewan stumbled from texting strangers into "I love you" exchangers rather quickly and I would have preferred for there to have been a slower, more progressive build-up. There was also a narrative switch about halfway through that was jarring. Though I wasn't sorry to get some of Ewan's perspective, it felt like it came out of nowhere. Like a bolt of lightning that strikes when the sun is still shining. Perhaps it wouldn't have been as noticeable had the book been separated into two parts, but who's to say?

Overall a decent debut. It'll resonate with fans of The Midnight Library, for sure, because of its mental health focus.

Special thanks to NetGalley and Alcove Press for the ARC!

3/5 stars

**Follow me on Goodreads

[audible--silence]

Heard abroad…

Whatever the question, the market is the answer

“Too many white people not enough markets”

“I mean i still didn’t understand any of it but i understood it was nice”

Pedophile and a dead aunt. You love to see it!

I exist to do the dumb thing and subsequently encourage everyone else to also do the dumb thing

“At least it isn’t Kevin”

“Home is the place where you keep ending up and you don’t really know why”

“Home is where you keep going back to your abuser”

Death is good business but without the repeat customers

As long as you have enough to buy linch on your first day, you have enough to figure it out

“Fucking cyrus man…” on cocktails and cacao ceremonies

It feels like im looking at the relic of a golden age that doesn’t know its past its best before date

Lots of people breeds competition in both capitalism and creativity. Capitalism also breeds racism.

Nobody gives one fuck about you here which is both amazing and kinda isolating

Its like if every city ive ever been to merged into one and did a bunch of drugs

I have fewer ideas but i have a lot of resolution so when i want one to work i just throw everything at it till it does

luck favors those who need it/rely on it in good faith

I was busy being sad and shit so I wasn’t in the mood for a heart attack

How lucky we are, to know that as long as we have charge on our phone or an internet connection, we’ll never go without

Going nowhere the long way

“Fuck you”

“What?”

“I was talking to the aircon”

Calories dont work on Mondays

Chicken is made by man, duck is made by god

Thats why i pay the rent

The only case there is is a quesadilla

It’s strangely captivating.

A city of nine million perfect strangers and nine million deranged fucking maniacs.

Everyone fits in. Because theres no such thing as “too different” out here.

Milk that mfer for every lil drop of lactation in it’s scary asymmetrical titty

Everybody be skipping to the calm down phase of life without ever experiencing the youthful fuckaround stage

The lifeline on my hand seems to doing fine.

The other two, I cant quite remember what they’re supposed to mean. Something about happiness or love.

They’re looking a little worse for wear lately.

“Look Ill extend him an olive branch but only so i can whack him over the head with it”

“After all, the universe continues to surprise, bewilder, and enchant, irrespective of our inquiries. As the tale concludes, may it inspire a subtle nod toward the dance of untamed contemplations—a dance best performed with an enigmatic grin.”

Thinking is for Jerry's (2023) - Professor Longwang

I feel glad to have an end date but miserable to end it

Scared of old reality but excited to confirm or deny it

Confused about my choices here and whether my feelings were made from genuine feelings

“How was the quality of your call?” Asks the messenger app.

To which I cannot reply.

Because to reply honestly would not do justice to the quality of the app, and instead be a comment on my experience of it.

The feeling in my gut when she said she met someone.

The thoughts back to all the times where I wanted to tell you i was yours.

All at once.

With a vengeance

Stabbing in the chest

What am i doing here

Accidentally drunk off a Manhattan i didnt want and a quarter pint of Guinness

In New York

In the rain

Trying desperately to find a job

In a field im hardly good at

It seems to me that it boils down.

When you look at the root of it all

What do you want

What do i want

How you utilize the two to make a life that brings you joy

Kill me, im french

Traveling is honestly comparable to hard drugs at this point: intense, euphoric, lands you in sketchy circumstances and often leads to living in very questionable scenarios. It also has a tendency to leave you broke as fuck and wondering where the last six months went

It do be a lil comedic,

A city of 12 million mother fuckers buzzing around packed in like a hive, and I’ve hardly made a friend.