#i was contemplating hard on what song to do for this week but i settled on this song because i felt like a silly lil goober

[son-n-heir-of-nothing]

This week's lokius song

Lay all your love on me - Abba

I can't stop thinking about this song, it just had that retro appeal that works for the vibe of the TVA and honestly, it can be seen through both perspectives (although I see it more through Loki's perspective).

Abba 🤝 lokius

[witchywithwhiskey]

🌝 booping trucker!ari while cockwarming

Chi, you wonderful menace, you have no idea what you've done to me!! this was going to be a short little scene and then it turned into THIS i'm sorry

bored on the road

pairing: dark trucker!ari levinson x female reader

summary: you're bored on the road and it gets you into trouble.

warnings: 18+ content (minors do not interact!!!), smut, piv sex, unprotected sex, rough sex, creampie, cock warming, object insertion, sadism/masochism, slight bratting/brat taming, choking, breathplay, painplay, face slapping, come play/come eating, exhibitionism, dirty talk, daddy kink, heavy degradation, some praise, brief objectification, pet names (sweetheart, baby, kiddo), possessive sex, tiny bit of aftercare, possessive behavior, controlling behavior, a mean hot man

word count: 4.7k

a/n: i know we're like almost a week past the tumblr boop fest but work was rough this week so apologies that this is a little late!!! also uh, this got way filthier than i was expecting so please enjoy i guess?? 😅

trucker king masterlist

Your head lay on Ari’s shoulder, the warm afternoon sunlight streaming in through the window of his truck and landing on your face, making you sleepy. But, though you were comfortable with your legs straddling Ari’s lap and your chest pressed so close to his that you could feel his heart beating against your sternum, sleep didn’t come.

You sat on your trucker’s lap, your bodies joined in the most intimate way while he navigated his rig through the frustratingly dull traffic on a dusty highway somewhere in the midwest. Both of you were quiet—Ari because he shut down all your attempts at conversation and you because you’d grown tired of trying to get him to talk. 

Though he wouldn’t talk, Ari wanted you on his lap, your tight, soft hole keeping him warm while he drove. You’d acquiesced as always, happy to follow his command, to be useful and connected to your trucker.

Still, you were bored. 

You’d turned your head to look out the window, but with traffic creeping along so slowly and nothing but the endless, barren desert stretching out beyond the road, there wasn’t much to look at. You could feel a restlessness thrumming beneath your skin, urging you to move, to do something, even as you tried to push it down. 

Ari had made it clear he didn’t want to talk, and you knew well enough he wanted you to be a quiet, well-behaved little cockwarmer. You wanted to be that for him, you wanted to be content with cockwarming him like you so often were, but that restlessness clawed through your body until you finally succumbed to its siren’s song.

Sitting up straight, you wiggled your hips, watching your trucker’s face for a reaction as his cock shifted deep in your cunt. Though you knew it felt good for him, Ari merely grunted at the sensation, flicking a warning glare at you. Pouting, you squeezed him with your inner walls, clenching down hard enough to wring a huffed sound of exasperation out of him.

“Sit still,” he scolded in a low, rumbling growl, his words barely discernible in his gruff grumble. One of his hands shifted from the steering wheel to your lower back, pressing you down on his cock so the tip of him ground against a spot inside you that made your lashes flutter with pleasure.

Instead of settling you, his words and his hand on your back only made the frustrating restlessness worse. So you stared at your trucker in quiet contemplation for a moment. 

Ari’s handsome face was hardened into a severe expression as he stared out at the unrelenting traffic clogging the interstate. His blue eyes were dulled with boredom and frustration of his own, the edges of his mouth pulled down in a frown framed perfectly but his dark beard. His brown hair hung down on either side of his face, calling attention to his handsomeness—and his unhappiness. 

An idea came to you suddenly. A terrible idea. A wonderfully terrible idea. 

Before you could think better of it, you booped Ari on the nose. 

“Boop,” you chirped, pulling your finger away quickly. You knew the probability of retaliation from your trucker was high, though you weren’t certain what form it would take. 

However, instead of growling or yelling at you to get back to being a quiet little cockwarmer, Ari simply cut his eyes to yours briefly. He raised an eyebrow, managing to look condescending even as he asked a silent question. He didn’t wait for a response, though, before he looked away from you and back out at the dusty road.

You huffed a little annoyed sigh at being essentially ignored by your trucker, your lips pursing in an even deeper pout. Though it was clear Ari didn’t like being booped, you refused to be deterred. 

Tapping Ari’s nose again with your finger, you trilled, “Boop!” even louder than before.

Still, your trucker gave you nothing in the way of a compelling response. You should’ve seen the trap for what it was, but then, you were the one who got into Ari’s rig in the first place. 

Determined to get a reaction out of your trucker, you pressed your finger to the tip of Ari’s nose like you were holding down a button and droned, “Booooop!”

Quicker than you would’ve thought possible, Ari tipped his head back and caught your finger between his teeth. He nipped at your skin hard enough to scold, but not break skin. It was so sudden, it shocked you. 

“Ah!” you squealed at the sting of his teeth, the surprised sound dissolving into a giggle. You tried to pull your finger free, but Ari bit down a little harder. 

His eyes cut to yours, a mirthful reprimand in his sparkling blue eyes. They practically shone in the warm afternoon light filtering into the truck cab. 

“Daddy,” you whined, squirming your hips, the slight pain of his teeth digging into your skin going straight to your core. A soft moan slipped from your lips when you felt your trucker’s hard length twitch within your cunt, making you grind down on him as subtly as you could, trying to eke out the delicious friction of his cock rubbing inside of you. “I’m sorry for booping you,” you mumbled, pouting at your trucker. “I’m just bored.”

With one last nip to the pad of your finger, Ari let you go. However, he clearly wasn’t done with you because a moment later, his hand circled the front of your throat and he held you still, pinning you with his ruthless gaze. 

A shiver of anticipation raced down your spine and you tried desperately not to show how much you enjoyed finally having your trucker’s attention. 

“Aw baby, why didn’t you tell me you were bored,” Ari cooed in a mockingly sweet tone. It was the one he used just before he got really mean. Your heart beat faster with excitement.

His fingertips digging into your neck were a second warning, Ari’s hand squeezing your throat so tight, an involuntary whimper slipped past your lips. Instead of fear, though, there was only heady arousal dripping through your body, pooling in your core and leaking out around Ari’s stiff cock. 

“Since warming daddy’s cock is so boring,” Ari began, his voice lowering into a deep, seething growl as he squeezed your throat even tighter, choking off your air supply. “Let’s see how you like it when daddy makes you ride something else, huh, fucktoy?” 

You barely had time to grin at the malicious glimmer in Ari’s eye before he was forcing you off his lap and down onto the floor between the driver’s and passenger seats. The sting of pain in your knees as they collided with the hard floor scarcely registered when you were too curious about what your trucker had planned for you. 

Ari shifted his grip to your chin and pushed your face against the gearshift sitting in front of you, the thick, leather-wrapped knob at eye-level from where you knelt. 

The realization of what Ari expected you to do struck you like a freight train, stealing the breath from your lungs as your eyes widened. Even as your mind went blank with surprise, something dark and filthy deep inside your body twitched with interest, coming alive at the thought of sinking your pussy down on the gearshift of Ari’s truck.

“Lick daddy’s gearshift, sweetheart,” Ari ordered, mocking condescension dripping from his tone. Then your heart nearly stopped when he confirmed he wanted you to do exactly what you’d suspected. “You’re gonna wanna make it nice and slick if you don’t want it to hurt when you fuck yourself on it.”

Your eyes went heavy-lidded as you let Ari’s words wash over you, your pussy throbbing with desire and your lips dropping open in a silent moan. However, your trucker wasn’t an especially patient man, so he pushed your mouth against the gearshift, urging you to follow his command. 

You knew well enough to follow any order Ari gave you, so you wrapped your hands around the shaft of the gearshift and pulled yourself closer. Pressing your lips to the leather and plastic of the shifter, you kissed all over it, making sure to leave plenty of drool behind. 

“That’s it, cock slut,” Ari rumbled, his tone pleased. You could see out of the corner of your eye that he was flicking his gaze between you and the road, depraved delight sparkling in his eyes. “Show daddy’s gear stick some love.” His big hand settled heavily on the crown of your head, pushing your lips harder against the leather handle.

You redoubled your efforts, licking and kissing the gearshift until your lips and chin were covered in your own saliva. It was sloppy and messy, but you could tell from Ari’s warm chuckle that he enjoyed the sight of you making out with his truck’s shifter.

“You’re drooling all over that knob like you wish it was your new boyfriend, cock whore,” Ari teased, a wickedness in his tone that made your pussy throb and clench desperately around nothing. A soft whine caught in the back of your throat, but Ari heard the pathetic sound, laughing harder at you. “Is that it, gross girl?” he asked mockingly. “Ya wanna make daddy’s gearshift your new boyfriend?” 

Using his grip on your head, he made you nod, rubbing your mouth lewdly against the slick leather knob. You whimpered, clutching the long shaft of the lever so you weren’t tempted to shove you hand between your thighs and impale yourself on your fingers. You were dripping down your thighs and you wanted something to shove deep in your aching, throbbing pussy.

“Well get him nice and wet, baby,” Ari said, the laughter in his tone stealing some of the edge from his command. “Cause he’s going in that tight cunt of yours—we’re gonna see how much we can stretch and ruin that needy little hole of yours.”  

Ari’s hand left the back of your head, giving you room to lick and kiss and drool over the gearshift to your heart’s content. Distantly, you felt the drift of the truck as it slowly merged into another lane, but you were too preoccupied with your task to care much about the traffic Ari was navigating. 

When your trucker was satisfied with your work, he grabbed the back of your neck and yanked you away from the gearshift. A protesting whine fell from your lips, which made Ari laugh loudly, the sound cold and mean as it filled the truck and made you hotter with desire. 

“Time to fuck your new boyfriend, sweetheart,” Ari mocked, looking pointedly at the slick gearshift then back at you. “Let’s see if you’re still bored when you’re stretching your tight cunt on daddy’s gear stick.” His eyes danced with wicked mirth as he stared down at you from the driver’s seat, squeezing your neck when you didn’t immediately move to follow his command.

On trembling legs, you stood, bending at the waist to fit within the confines of the truck cab and turned around. If your bare ass was on display for any cars or trucks around Ari’s rig, neither of you cared. Thankfully, the oversized t-shirt your wore covered most of you.

As quickly as you could manage, you positioned yourself above the flat top of the gearshift and reached between your thighs to hold the shaft steady. You lowered yourself down onto the knob, the slick leather pushing against your dripping pussy. 

However, though you were soaking wet with arousal and the gearshift was covered in your drool, the broad leather handle met resistence from your cunt, which refused to give and allow the thick object inside your small hole. No matter how you shifted or pushed down on the gearshift, it wouldn’t sink into your sopping pussy. A whine worked its way up your throat, leaking from your lips and filling the truck cab with your frustration.

“It’s too big, daddy,” you whimpered as you struggled, your thighs beginning to shake from the awkward way you hovered above the gearshift.

“Aw, baby,” Ari cooed before his voice turned cold and mean, “Do you think I fucking care?” He wrapped his hand around your throat, squeezing the sides until your eyes flicked to his. His blue gaze danced in the afternoon sunlight with depraved intent. “I was perfectly content with you sitting in my lap, your cunt keeping my cock warm,” he growled, sounding furious as his gaze flicked between you and the road. “But you were bored—so you’re gonna fuck daddy’s gear stick or I’m gonna find something bigger to shove in that needy cunt of yours.” 

Ari’s ruthless words had your pussy throbbing in response, more arousal dripping from your slit and onto the knob between your thighs. It was all you could do to whimper with desperation and rock against the leather shifter, your cunt aching to be filled. 

The gearshift rubbed between your folds, teasing your little hole with its broadness. With renewed determination, you pushed down on the lever, pressing against it until your pussy’s resistence gave way and you finally—finally—felt the thick knob slip past the tight rim of your cunt’s entrance.

A loud, pornographic groan fell from your lips as your jaw dropped and your eyes rolled back in your head at the feeling of Ari’s gearshift sinking into your pussy. There was the burning sting of the thick, unyielding lever inside your stretched cunt, but the sensation softened into waves of pleasure that threatened to carry you away to a sea of ecstasy. 

You craved more of that deliciously aching pleasure, so you pushed down on the gearshift, taking the leather knob deep inside your cunt. It felt like your pussy was greedy for more with how easy it was to lower yourself further on the shifter, until the top hit the end of you and you couldn’t take any more.

For a long moment, you hung suspended in the feeling of the fullness in your cunt, the leather knob so deep inside you, you were convinced that if you pressed down on your lower tummy, you’d be able to feel it. Your eyes were closed, mouth hanging open in pleasure-drunk bliss as you reveled in the sensation of having the strange object inside you. 

However, your trucker clearly wasn’t happy that you’d forgotten you were putting on a depraved show for him, and he dragged your attention back to him in the meanest way possible.

Ari slapped you across the face, the cracking sound reaching your ears before you registered the sting. When the pain hit you, your pussy clenched tight around the gearshift inside you, and you moaned, blinking dazed eyes until your trucker came into focus. His blue gaze was dancing with amusement and cruel delight. 

“Look at me while you ride your new boyfriend, cock whore,” Ari sneered meanly, his hand returning to your throat. He squeezed your neck lightly, a warning not to look away from him again. “Go on and degrade yourself for me, baby,” he rumbled, a grin slowly spreading across his handsome face. “Fuck yourself on my rig’s gear stick—show daddy what a disgusting little slut ya are.”

You stared into Ari’s eyes and moaned, your mouth parting and your gaze going heavy-lidded with pleasure at the depravity of his words. Your reaction only made Ari’s grin deepen, his eyes shimmering in the golden afternoon light filtering into the truck cab. 

He kept looking back at the road, one hand on the wheel to steer the truck, the other around your neck. His attention was split because it had to be, but you had the compulsion to put on a show for him that was so distracting, he’d have trouble remembering to look away from you.

With that thought crystalizing in your mind, you lifted yourself up on the gearshift until only the top was lodged in your pussy, the knob stretching your tight hole to its limit, before sliding back down on the shaft. The lever was so stiff and unrelenting inside your body, the object so foreign, that a wicked shiver raced down your spine.

Your body knew it was taking something unnatural, something that was never meant to be shoved inside your slick hole. But you were riding it anyway, your pussy taking Ari’s gearshift like it was a cock and it turned you on more. Eagerly, you fucked Ari’s truck like it was him, bouncing on it happily, the knowledge that you were using something as perverse as a gearshift to get yourself off only making you gush even more with arousal. 

“Daddy,” you whimpered on a moan, staring into Ari’s handsome face while you rode his gear stick. Pleasure and pain twisted your expression, your thighs trembling violently from holding you up, even as you kept fucking yourself on the leather knob.

“Ya still bored, cock whore?” Ari taunted, his hand around your throat pulling your upper body closer to him. Your nose brushed against the coarse hair of his beard and you moaned when you inhaled the familiar musky scent of your trucker. 

The new position allowed you to brace your hands on Ari’s chest, and you nearly sobbed in relief as it took some of your weight off your shaking legs. The reprieve was so overwhelming, it took you a moment to gather your wits and answer Ari’s question.  

“No, daddy, ‘m not bored at all,” you purred, using the new angle of your body to bounce your hips on the gearshift. The wet schlick sounds of your cunt fucking the knob filled the truck cab, and you let loose a low moan, the sound nearly muffled in Ari’s beard. 

“Good girl,” he rasped, his hand squeezing your throat and moving you so he could see the pleasure dancing across your features. His gaze trailed down your body to where your ass was bouncing on his gear stick, his throat bobbing in front of your eyes as he swallowed thickly. “Good fucking girl.” 

The look in his eye was nearly entranced and you couldn’t help but smirk a little to yourself. It had been a few seconds since he’d glanced at the road, and though you knew you were playing a dangerous game, you didn’t really think you’d cause Ari to crash his truck. 

Probably.

“Fuck, daddy,” you whimpered, pouting your lips at your trucker and dragging his attention away from your ass. His darkening eyes fell to your lips, exactly like you wanted. “It’s so big inside me, my little pussy’s so full, daddy.” You batted your lashes at Ari, pleased to see his pupils dilate even more, until only a thin ring of blue remained. 

“Christ, baby, you’re making me jealous of my fucking rig,” Ari groaned like he was in pain. His fingers dug into the sides of your neck while the hand that had been on the steering wheel moved to his cock. Your trucker used his knee to steer while he stroked himself in his fist. “Ya like your new boyfriend better than me?” Ari asked, something dangerous in his tone. 

You almost giggled at the idea that you could like his truck’s gearshift better than his cock, but you bit the sound back knowing he was asking a serious question. Holding Ari’s gaze, you shook your head solemnly.

“No,” you said honestly. “Nothing’s better than your fat cock, daddy.” You trailed your fingers down Ari’s chest before wrapping them around the tip of his cock, both of you using your hands to stroke his hard length. “You fill me up so good, daddy, I love feeling you pump me full of your come.” You pressed a sweet kiss to his bearded cheek, the gesture so at odds with the filthiness of what you were both doing that it made it hotter.

“Fuck,” Ari ground out through clenched teeth. Then, something in him seemed to snap right before your eyes.

Suddenly, Ari’s hand was gone from around his cock. He gripped the wheel and swerved the truck to the side to pull onto the shoulder of the highway. The truck went half off the road, the bumpiness making you ride Ari’s gearshift harder, wringing a depraved moan from you that made his eyes flare with more wildness.

A thick cloud of dust swirled around the cab, but neither of you gave any thought to the fact that it would shield what you were about to do from everyone else on the road.

“In the back, baby,” your trucker growled, throwing on his hazards and reaching for his gearshift to put the rig in park.

For a second, Ari seemed stumped about what to do. Since the shifter was still buried in your pussy, he couldn’t grab it like he normally would. Instead, he opted to grab your hips in both hands and use your body to shift the truck into park. 

A delicious shiver at the perverse obscenity of the action raced down your spine and you moaned loudly. There was something about Ari using your body as an extension of his truck that was so fucking hot, your mind went completely blank for a moment. 

Then his hands released you and the need to be fucked rushed back into your body. Without thinking, you were tumbling forward, pulling yourself off the shifter with a whimper and crawling eagerly onto the cot in the back of the rig. 

“Hope your new boyfriend loosened you up, fucktoy,” Ari growled as he followed you into the back, pushing you down onto your hands and knees at the edge of the bed. “Because I’m gonna use your cunt like it’s my own personal fleshlight.” He slapped your ass hard enough to make you jump and yelp before you relaxed back into position.

You were perched on the edge of the cot, your knees spread and back curved in an arch, head resting on your arms so your ass was up and on display for your trucker. Without any more warning, Ari slid his stiff, leaking cock into your slick, warm cunt.

Your trucker groaned loudly, the pleasured rumble warming your heart with pride as he buried his thick cock in your snug little pussy. A soft smile tugged at the edges of your mouth as Ari curled around you, covering your back with his chest, his hands reaching around to grope your tits through your cotton t-shirt. 

“Christ, ya feel so fucking good, baby,” Ari growled, rolling his hips in tight circles, fucking you hard and fast.

The sound of your bodies clapping against each other drifted to your ears, adding to the pleasure gathering in a tight coil in your core. Your trucker’s face was pressed into the back of your neck, his breath hot and harsh against your skin, raising goosebumps all over your body.

“You’re still so fucking tight, cock slut,” Ari rasped, nipping at the underside of your jaw and making you clench down on his cock from even that brief bite of pain. “You were made to take my cock, weren’t ya, sweetheart—my cock and anything else I want, huh, kiddo?” 

Ari’s husky chuckle and his degrading words ghosted over your cheek and you could do nothing else besides moan your response. You’d fuck anything he told you to fuck, riding his gearshift whenever he wanted, as long as he fucked you exactly like he was afterward. Ari’s cock filled you perfectly, like your body truly was made for him, the tip of him grinding against your cervix and making you see stars.

It seemed Ari didn’t need you to answer his question, because he went on speaking filth in your ear, one of his hands wrapping around your throat and choking you while the other groped your tits and plucked at your nipples.

“Ya gonna come on daddy’s dick, sweetheart?” he taunted, his tone mean and cruel and so cold it made your desire flare hotter. “Gonna cream all over your filthy trucker’s fat cock even after I made you fuck my gear stick, baby?” 

Your lips moved, forming words before you could force them off your tongue. “Yes, yes, yes, yes, daddy,” you whispered, riding the edge of your release. Ari’s cock pummeled your cunt, pounding so deep you could feel him in your throat, and it was almost enough. “Please, daddy,” you cried, needing just a bit more stimulation to push you over. 

Ari grunted in your ear, “Alright, kiddo,” before reaching between your thighs and finding your clit, slippery with your wetness. His thick fingers rubbed the aching nub and it was exactly what you needed. 

With a piercing cry, you tumbled headfirst into an ocean of pleasure, your body going tight and taut as the coil in your core snapped, warm bliss flooding through you. Your cunt gripped Ari’s cock, choking his thick dick in a vise that made him groan viciously.

Your trucker rutted into you furiously, finding his release moments later. He buried his cock deep inside you and came, grunting his pleasure as he emptied his balls in your cunt. You moaned softly at the feeling of his hard length twitching inside you. His low groan as your cunt wrung every drop of seed from his dick filled you with satisfaction. 

For a long moment, you and Ari savored the pleasure of your bodies together, but it couldn’t last. Your trucker didn’t linger—he couldn’t, not with his truck idling on the side of the highway. 

Once he’d caught his breath, Ari pressed a rough kiss to your cheek before pulling out of you and shuffling up to the front. He collapsed into the driver’s seat while you fell onto your side, your eyes watching as he grabbed the gearshift and put the truck back in drive to pull back onto the highway. 

Your eyelids were heavy with exhaustion, but you kept them open long enough to catch Ari licking your juices from his palm. An unmistakeable groan rumbled deep in your trucker’s chest when he tasted you and your pussy gave a week throb in response. Too tired to move, you smiled and sank into the waiting arms of the sleep that called to you.

However, Ari’s snapping fingers dragged you back into the world of the waking. 

“Get up here and clean up your mess, kiddo,” Ari ordered, his voice gruff and stern. 

There was a warmth to his tone that you recognized as the satisfaction you’d given him by making him come, and you couldn’t help smiling at your own pleased pride. But his words were a command all the same, and you knew what you had to do. 

Gathering your strength, you hauled yourself up from the cot and shifted onto your knees between the two seats. You leaned into the gearshift and began licking your slick from the leather, turning your head enough to catch Ari’s eye. He wore a satisfied smirk, reaching down to pet your head as you did what he’d told you. 

Humming happily, you smiled and cleaned up the gearshift like the good girl you wanted to be for your trucker. By the time you were done, the sun was low in the sky. The golden light in the truck had darkened into a fiery glow, and you felt the tug of sleep more insistently. 

Ari chuckled when he noticed you were half-asleep and still licking his gearshift. He helped you into his lap, guiding you down onto his cock to keep him warm while he continued driving. 

You fell asleep against your trucker’s chest, happy and satisfied, the restlessness that had plagued you earlier in the afternoon having been finally subdued by Ari. 

Still, you’d discovered what Ari would do if you booped his nose, and you tucked that knowledge away, saving it for a rainy day when you were inevitably bored again. He was a truck driver after all, there were bound to be more boring days on the road. But you knew your trucker would make sure you were entertained—by making you entertain him.

trucker king masterlist

[loki-cees-all]

Space Oddity {Avengers!Loki x Female Reader One-shot}

Cee's Loki Fic Masterlist / AO3 Link

Pairing : Avengers!Loki x Female Reader

Summary : While preparing for Stark Tower’s Halloween party, Loki misunderstands the point of a Halloween Costume. Luckily he has you to help him navigate such tricky waters. 

W/c : 10k words

Content / Warnings : Established Relationship, Fluff, Smut, Loki being a little massive shit and also a silly goose.

Author's Note : Last year a certain LIFE-RUINER (affectionate) dressed up as Ziggy Stardust/David Bowie/Aladdin Sane for Halloween, and it permanently altered my brain chemistry. Because of (or in spite of?) the ensuing brain rot, it took 11 months of me staring at that picture to finally come up with an idea to include Loki in that delicious little mix.

P.S. I do recommend listening to Space Oddity by David Bowie while you read this. If you start the song at "Humanity’s wide variety of music..." then depending on your reading speed, the song's first Verse should start right at the big reveal 🤭

18+ Only - Minors DNI

⊱ ─ ༓ ── ⋅•⋅⊰ ─ ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ∙ ⋅ ─ ⊱⋅•⋅ ── ༓ ─ ⊰

A crisp, hazy mist obscured your view of the ground from the 22nd floor of Stark Tower. Sunrise was yet to fully finish, and the Earth below was quiet, still adjusting to the uneasy transition from slumber to consciousness. Within that ambiguity, it was easy to believe that you’d somehow awoken on an entirely new planet. 

You often wondered what that was like, to feel the soil from an uncharted world give way underneath your boots. To feel a breeze coming off an ocean no other human had ever seen before, or to look up into the night sky and see the stars of a brand new galaxy. How colossal, how surreal, how inferior it must make someone feel. 

On lazy mornings such as this one, you’d often ask your partner what it was like to be an astronaut. He’d hand you a steaming cup of coffee as he rejoined you in bed, and with a contemplative expression, he’d always respond with a brand new answer. 

You suspected the change in response was just due to him recalling his first trip to a different realm, and each time you always listened very carefully. You always closed your eyes and tried to lose yourself in the picturesque descriptions of fantasy worlds you’d probably never be able to see personally. 

Sometimes, if you focused hard enough, you could almost smell the forests of a brand new planet. You could almost taste its fresh water and its different fruit, and feel the immaculate breezes of its unstudied seasons. But then you’d open your eyes again, and when you looked through the skyscraper’s window, the few dapples of orange and yellow leaves breaking through the dense fog would let you know this was still planet Earth. 

But that wasn’t always so bad. Occasionally, there would be several weeks without a world-ending threat breathing down the Avenger’s necks, and that meant you could pretend you were all just regular people. You could sleep in or get up extra early to watch the world come to life, you could rush around and do any of the million things that needed to be done, or you could simply lay there and bask in that sweet silence. 

Today, after having coffee in bed, your only concrete plan was a shopping trip in the West Village with Wanda and Nat. Your only solid goal was to finally settle on the perfect costumes for the Halloween party happening just a few days from now. 

It was no secret that the Avengers had acquired a sizable contingency of cynics over the years, ones who weren’t shy about openly criticizing the entire team. From the collateral damage incurred during battle, to the individual actions of its members both on and off the team - anything they did was suspect, and absolutely nothing was beyond complaint. Thus, Pepper Potts had made it her personal mission to finally correct the planet’s opinions of its heroes. 

In addition to the team’s assistance towards rebuilding efforts after their battles were won and having its members performing very public charity work, Stark Tower was starting to host more ��fun” events in order to further boost the team’s positive image. 

“To get your names in the papers without a rising death toll immediately afterwards,” was specifically how Pepper had explained her initiative. And naturally, that meant a Halloween Party was deemed absolutely necessary. 

Anyone who was even tertiarily related to the Avengers was going to be there: from the low-level, but still notable, world government leaders, to the honorary members from all corners of the globe. And of course, plenty of reporters and photographers would be in attendance, all of them ready to document every single fun moment. It was set to become an impressive party, and knowing Pepper, a very classy event - so it shouldn’t have been at all surprising that most of the team had become hyper-focused on winning the party’s costume contest. 

Initially, everyone kept their costumes a secret from one another, and the trash-talking was of a mostly friendly nature. But then rumors started flying around, and gradually, some members of the team started taking the competition far too seriously. Alliances were formed, and subsequently broken. The taunting soon became serious, and then reached devastating levels, which ultimately escalated into a four-day period where Tony and Steve couldn’t even be in the same room together without a physical fight breaking out. 

Thankfully, the girls were far more casual about it, and that afternoon’s shopping trip was planned to be one of mutual support. Wanda was hoping to finalize her couple’s costume with Vision, and even though she hadn’t mentioned it directly, you knew that Nat was attempting a similar endeavor with Bruce, despite his timid insistence that he wasn’t a “costume guy”. It was so adorably endearing that it almost gave you a toothache. 

Unfortunately, things were not so cut and dry with Loki. 

He had yet to mention the Halloween party on his own, nor had he participated in any group discussions on the subject - he even ignored Tony's attempts to goad him into verbal sparring matches, something Loki ordinarily enjoyed. Not that anyone should be genuinely excited about performative media relations disguised as a fun party, but nonetheless, you were starting to become concerned about his lack of interest.

Private conversations with him about finding a costume had gone nowhere. He didn’t understand why he needed to dress up at all, or why you cared so much about it. And while he wasn’t saying it out loud, you didn’t need to be a genius to guess why he had reservations: everyone else already believed he was an actual monster, so shouldn’t he just be himself on Halloween? 

Only a few weeks had passed since you’d moved in together, but it was going really well, all things considered. The otherworldly being you’d fallen in love with still didn’t understand most Earthly customs, and you very much enjoyed being his Midgardian teacher. But coming to terms with what he’d done while under the influence of the Mind Stone was still an ongoing struggle for him. 

Loki had good days, but he also had very, very bad days. He still had nightmares about his past, and frequently his worries about the future kept him helplessly trapped in bed. It broke your heart to witness, and even though he’d probably never reveal the full details about his time with The Black Order and Thanos, he at least never stopped you from offering him comfort in the middle of the night. 

Because he wasn’t the monster his critics or inner demons claimed he was, no matter how convincing they were. He deserved a good and peaceful life just as much as everyone else did, and you wanted nothing more than to help him finally have one. 

When you’d left the apartment later that morning, Loki was lounging peacefully on the living room couch, his nose buried in the oldest book you’d ever seen. A gentle smile had tugged at his lips while you kissed his forehead on your way out, and with tremendous love in his eyes, he said that he’d miss you terribly while you were gone. 

After an early lunch at The Coppola Cafe, the three of you spent the afternoon browsing what felt like every single vintage clothing shop in the West End. It didn’t take long for Wanda and Nat to finalize their costumes, and eventually you did manage to find something for yourself, but deciding on your partner’s costume was another story entirely. A terribly complicated task, one that was impossible to accomplish and rotten with trap doors and landmines hiding within the deceptive labyrinth that was Loki. 

The girls did their best to make helpful suggestions during the shopping trip, offering such innocent and guiltless ideas like a mailman, or a stuffy professor - or perhaps he could dress up as Shakespeare so he could spend the entire party wandering around quoting Hamlet. Or maybe instead, he should just wear a Ghostface mask and a long black cloak, so he had a good excuse to stay concealed and silent all night long. 

You appreciated their efforts, but none of those ideas were quite right for him. You couldn’t really explain why, but they just weren’t…Loki. 

By late afternoon, your mind had turned into a jumbled mess. Unable to think clearly anymore, you resorted to aimless purchases of extra things neither of you probably wouldn’t ever use - cheap makeup sets, bottles of fake blood, a set of vampire fangs, a pair of cat ears. Several brightly colored wigs, a second-hand cape, and a large bag of Halloween candy to stress eat later finally completed your purchases for the day. 

The group came back to the Tower just before dusk, and the living room of your apartment was quiet when you walked inside. A few lamps illuminated on the end tables gave the space a dark, brooding mood, which was greatly appreciated after such a busy and disappointing day. But unfortunately, Loki was no longer on the couch where you’d left him, and that old book was nowhere to be seen. 

“Hey! I’m home!” you called out while setting your shopping bags down by the front door. 

An odd silence was the only thing that greeted you. 

Usually, Loki would be at the front door, ready to sweep you up in his arms whenever you returned home. But the apartment remained unmoving, even as you called out a second time. When he still didn’t appear, you poked your head into the kitchen while shrugging off your jacket and slipping off your shoes. But that room was also completely vacant, with no evidence of dinner being started or already had. 

Loki preferred spending most of his time alone, but occasionally he’d allow an enticing bribe from Bruce or Thor to drag him out of the apartment; maybe he was just studying something interesting up in Bruce’s lab, or perhaps he’d agreed to help his brother play a prank on someone. Grateful for the opportunity to wallow in solitude for a bit, you pulled the giant bag of Halloween candy from a shopping bag and made your way towards the back of the apartment. 

You padded down the empty hallway where there was still no sign of Loki. Everything in the entire apartment was clean, and in its place. There was absolutely nothing wrong, and yet it felt like the weight of the entire world was resting heavily on your shoulders. You tried to reassure yourself that it was nothing that a coma-inducing amount of candy couldn’t fix, but even that was becoming less believable with each step forward. 

As you approached the bedroom, you thought you could hear the very faint sounds of guitar strumming through the closed door. That gave you pause; certain that you hadn’t left anything on before leaving that morning, you cautiously moved closer, until your ear was pressed against the door. 

Yes, that was music you were hearing - familiar music, even though you couldn’t quite place it yet, and you couldn’t help but to smile to yourself. Loki was home after all, and he had been entertaining himself with music while you were out. It thoroughly warmed your heart with an unexplainable feeling of serenity, and pleased that he’d remembered how to use the record player on his own, you waited behind the door to listen for another moment. 

Humanity’s wide variety of music was one of the few things about our culture that he’d expressed genuine interest in - which of course, you happily encouraged. It was so much fun introducing him to everything from the classic composers of the 18th and 19th centuries, to the psychedelic rockers of the 20th century. From the upbeat pop groups of your middle school years, to the angsty singers that made up the soundtrack of your early twenties.

You closed your eyes to focus solely on whatever he was listening to now. The music itself was playing low, the singer’s impassive voice just barely audible to you. But you couldn’t tell if it was a really old recording, or if the sound was just distorted after passing through the door. 

Off in the distance, a punctuated drum stroke marked the countdown to some inconceivable event, and adrenaline suddenly filled your bloodstream. A low hum vibrated underneath the drum, steady until it wasn’t, and then gradually it shifted into a cosmic wail that seemed to be transmitting itself across all of time and space. A cacophony of instruments, from both the planet Earth and of the stars themselves, finally crescendoed together in a powerful array of astronomical declaration. 

A declaration that something was happening at that very moment. Breathed into life with a static kiss, that something was so astonishingly important, and it vehemently demanded immediate witness. 

Your curiosity, overwhelming to the point that you couldn’t take it any longer, forced you to carefully reach for the door handle. Its metal, both warm and cold simultaneously, felt like home. It felt unreal. 

This felt like opening the hatch to an ancient spacecraft. 

This is Ground Control to Major Tom…

You pushed open the door, and immediately let out a startled laugh. Standing in front of the bedroom mirror was a tall and lanky figure, turning himself back and forth while carefully examining his reflection. That part wasn’t surprising; but rather, it was the way he’d dressed himself that was completely unexpected. 

You’ve really made the grade…

Bright red and blue stripes lined the figure’s jumpsuit from shoulder to toe, each one evenly separated by thin lines of white. Familiar dark curls cascaded and twisted down past a pair of golden, glittering shoulder pads that only amplified his already impressive stature. Across his right eye, stretching from well below his cheekbone up to meet with his natural hairline, was a crimson lightning bolt. Its perfectly jagged edges were outlined in shimmering blue, and the leather platform boots on his feet were a brilliant, shining red. 

And the papers want to know whose shirts you wear…

You knew it wasn’t actually Ziggy Stardust standing there; logically, you knew that much to be true. David Bowie had died several years ago, and while you now believed in alien life on other planets, and magic, and superheroes - you still knew the matter of ghosts to be entirely science fiction. 

Rational thought, if you had been capable of it in that moment, would have told you that this was just your celestial partner practicing another one of his illusions. But this mirage was so much more powerful than reason, or fact, or reality could have ever hoped to be. While shoulder-strung spectral harps blared from the record player and the harmonized magnetism of flesh and blood and God stood before you, the only conclusion to be reached was that you’d finally lost your entire mind. 

Now it’s time to leave the capsule if you dare…

Other than his hair, his illusion was categorically perfect: the only hint of Loki underneath this glamour was the flicker of mischievous green hiding behind heterochromatic eyes. But those weren’t Loki’s cheekbones, or his lips, or his nose. 

They were David fucking Bowie’s. 

This is Major Tom to Ground Control…

Your jaw dropped even further when he finally noticed you. He turned someone else’s body, and he lifted someone else’s chin. The illustrious and supernal smile he flashed in your direction tugged at someone else’s lips. But the confidence that radiated out of him, like the infernal rays of an ever-bursting star, belonged to Loki, and Loki alone. 

It was different from Bowie’s, but still somehow the same; despite the oddity of both their ensembles, neither outfit had worn either man. And similar to that ethereal mortal from over 50 years ago, Loki’s aura overrode any bewildered question of why, and instead begged the eternal question of how? 

I’m stepping through the door…

How was he making this look work for him? Just like Bowie, Loki was equal parts striking and ridiculous. He was magnetic and breathtaking, he was pulling you in while simultaneously stunning the oxygen from your lungs. No thoughts, no words, no sounds could ever truly capture the true essence of this scene, and all you could manage was another stunned laugh as you looked him up and down. 

His lips finally moved, but you couldn’t hear what he was saying. A symphony of guitars and keyboards and organs and stringed instruments all crescendoed together to effectively pay tribute to the creation of this universe and drown out his voice. The sound, dizzying and disorienting, overpowered the feel of the floor beneath your feet until gravity was no longer enough to keep you tethered to the Earth. 

And I’m floating in the most peculiar way…

Your mind, completely overwhelmed by the glowing specter just ten feet away, had become entirely blank. You were rendered so totally speechless that you forgot every single detail about your past. You simply weren’t you anymore; you were an astronaut from a distant planet on the other side of the universe, and you always had been. 

You weren’t standing on the 22nd floor of Stark Tower, you were opening the hatch of an imaginary spacecraft, you were taking that first step out onto an unexplored moon. You were leaving the very first footprints upon its previously untouched surface, and you were carving your name into its virgin moondust. You were leaving your mark for future generations to someday gaze upon, in sheer awe of the audacity to wonder what else could be out there. 

And the stars look very different today… 

Without even noticing, you let go of the bag of Halloween candy; whether it also began floating or if it crashed to your bedroom floor was no longer any of your concern. All you could think about was if it felt this surreal, this mind-blowing to look upon the real David Bowie. How did anybody manage to not spontaneously combust in his presence? 

All sense of relative dimensions lost their meaning. Space was completely irrelevant, time was a fictional construct. The universe was never going to stop expanding, so would anyone ever be able to see it all? How could a numerical value ever be assigned to the entire concept of time? Why were any of us here? 

For here, am I sitting in a tin can? 

You had no way of knowing how much time had passed, but at some point, Loki must have realized that he’d broken you. Without losing his proud smile, he waved a hand in the direction of your record player. Its needle lifted, and an eerie silence immediately descended over the room. 

As soon as the music stopped, part of the spell clouding your mind vanished. A rush of oxygen suddenly filled your lungs, and your heart finally returned to its beating. Blood resumed its journey through your veins, and the floor became substantial underneath your feet again. You blinked once, twice, three times and shook your head, trying to clear it so that you might be able to ask just one of the million questions that all popped up at the exact same time. 

“Something the matter, dear?” 

Your eyes flew back open. Unfortunately, his glamour was still in place, and it was Ziggy Stardust that gingerly approached your position by the door. And when he’d spoken, it wasn’t Loki’s voice you’d heard - it was the voice of David Bowie. 

Unsure of what to do with yourself, inundated and engulfed in sensations of the most flustered manner, you squeezed your eyes shut again. Your arms crossed and uncrossed, your knees locked and unlocked as your weight shifted back and forth. You couldn’t help but laugh and shake your head again. 

“Loki, um…What the…” You had to pause to let out a deep, shaky breath, to run your hands up and down your face in a desperate attempt to wake from this very confusing dream. “What, um - are you doing, exactly?” 

The air around you warmed considerably as he stopped in front of you, and the amusement in Bowie’s voice, so smooth and so sure of himself, was more than palpable as he spoke. 

“Preparing for the masquerade, my dear. The same thing you were doing all afternoon.”

A gentle finger tilted your chin upwards, silently requesting that your eyes open again. When you did, it was Ziggy Stardust staring down at you from his impressive height, his expression curious and the unnecessarily tall boots he stood upon just making everything worse for you. 

You gasped breathlessly. Your brain almost melted entirely. The massive crush you’d had on David Bowie when you were 13 years old suddenly roared to life once more. You’d never told anyone about it, because everyone else your age was in love with the much more socially acceptable choices of Nick Carter or Justin Timberlake. Back then, admitting to a near-fatal attraction on an androgynous, bisexual and eccentric musician from the 1970s would have been akin to signing your own death warrant. 

Nowadays, such a crush was far more acceptable to have, but you thought those feelings had faded away with adolescence. There’d been no reason to bring it up, not even when you’d first introduced Loki to Bowie’s music. And now you were standing face-to-chest with the physical embodiment of your lie by omission. 

Overwhelmed once more, you backed away from him and covered your eyes. “Okay, can you - take those boots off, please? You’re already ridiculously taller than me, so you don’t need them…” 

“As you wish, darling.” 

His voice, though sincere, was still someone else’s. Admittedly, it was intoxicating to hear Bowie’s voice addressing you in such a loving, familiar tone - but it was also incredibly intimidating. You were already on the verge of collapse as it was; you didn’t need yet another reason to make a very rapid crash landing to the floor. 

Carefully, you let out a very slow breath to steady yourself. “And - can you also go back to using your voice, please?” 

There was a brief moment of silence, and a part of you wished you could see the enchanting smirk he almost certainly wore at that very moment. When he finally answered, it was in his own voice again, but it was just as amused as Bowie’s voice had been. 

“As you wish, darling.” 

You let out a shuddered sigh of relief, and your body relaxed somewhat. When you cracked open your eyelids from behind your fingers, he was still Ziggy, but the sight was a little easier to deal with now that he stood at his normal height and spoke with his actual voice. 

Now that he was closer, you took in the comforting notes of citrus and cedarwood on his skin, scents you knew to be Loki’s. You swallowed hard, your pupils dilated wildly as you finally allowed yourself to look him over. 

“You did this for the Halloween party?” you asked softly. 

Loki’s expression was much more reserved now, and he nodded earnestly. “Yes, I thought you would enjoy it. Is that not the case?” 

Your breath hitched as you reached out to touch him. Your fingertips brushed along the golden collar around his neck. The material was soft and pliable, not like the polyester you’d find on a cheap costume from a pop-up Halloween store. No, the fabric Loki wore was both real, and it wasn’t. It was the truth, but it was also a lie. He was both mortal and ethereal simultaneously. 

“And what made you choose this version of David Bowie to imitate?” 

The reimagined figure of Ziggy Stardust shrugged nonchalantly. His gaze, as intent and dedicated as ever, remained locked on your expression while your fingers drifted over to his shoulder pads, and then back down to the center of his chest. 

“Well, the other night you remarked on how much I supposedly resembled this particular mortal…” 

A shy smile pulled at your lips. “Okay, go on…” 

He reached out to caress your cheek, his thumb soft and solid against your skin. “And I was thinking about that film you showed me. The one that used music to tell its story…”

You stifled another giggle by pulling your lower lip between your teeth. Both of your hands found their way to his chest, one of them pulling the zipper of his jumpsuit until you could see just the barest hint of his chest hair. 

“A music video. The Space Oddity music video, specifically…” 

Ziggy, or Loki - whomever it was - donned a playful grin. “Yes, of course. With the oscillating, dark-green lines. I quite enjoyed that one…” 

You nodded absentmindedly. Your fingers, like they had a mind of their own, tugged the zipper down just a little bit further. Its metal teeth, crafted with the utmost precision possible, gave way and unlocked so easily to reveal even more of his skin, and your heart hammered inside your chest. 

It was impossible that Loki couldn’t see right through your expression, that he didn’t know about the salacious thoughts swirling around in your head. Like he’d expected you to have this very reaction, he gently slipped his arms around your waist, pulling you closer, until you were pressed all the way against him. 

“Darling, I know that the stress of preparing for this particular soiree has been weighing heavily on your mind as of late…” he continued with a soft murmur as he delicately spun you both around and guided you back towards the bed. “And I wanted to do something to help alleviate that burden for you…” 

Your heart leapt violently into your throat. At first, it was the surprise that he’d noticed your inner turmoil that did you in, but then it shifted towards dismay over you apparently not hiding it as well as you thought you were. 

“I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you replied with an innocent smile as he slowly lowered you both down to the mattress. 

But yes, of course you’d been feeling tons of pressure lately about the party. The Avengers had all known about your relationship with Loki for a while, but the rest of the Tower still didn’t - and neither did the rest of the world. They were all going to find out at the Halloween party. 

Loki chuckled and allowed his weight to fully settle on top of yours. “What have I told you about good girls who like to lie, my love?” he murmured softly, his lips brushing teasingly against yours. 

While you didn’t really care what everyone else thought about you, what they thought about Loki was many magnitudes of greater importance. He was already in a very precarious situation as it was; depending on the pundit or publication, his every scowl was interpreted as one of disdain for the human race, his every word a threat that he was just moments away from leading another alien invasion. 

They already hated him, and they’d never forgive him for New York, no matter how well he’d behaved since. 

Your breath shuddered, and your fingers couldn’t help but tangle between the dark curls that were so effortlessly Loki’s. “That they should…do it more, probably?” 

Any mistake he made in the field was grounds for his dismissal, anytime he drank a glass of wine instead of a beer was his blatant attempt to dismantle democracy itself. His every move was overanalyzed and deciphered by a bunch of people who had never even met him, who never even cared to know what he was like behind closed doors or in private, when he actually felt safe to be himself. 

They didn’t even care that he’d been corrupted by measures of torture they’d never have been able to survive themselves. Or that it had been entirely against his will, or that even while his invasion was taking place, he was subtly laying the groundwork for the Avengers to be able to stop him in the first place. 

“A valiant attempt, darling, but we both know that wasn’t what I meant…” he whispered hotly, nippling at your jaw. He adjusted the angle of his hips, and he began to roll them against yours. 

You moaned softly in response. Your mind began to melt, this time in pleasure instead of shock. The juxtaposition of Loki and Bowie and Ziggy, though confusing at first, started to make sense. It scratched an itch you couldn’t possibly have guessed that you had, and it created an intense need deep within your soul.

Unable to resist him any further, you captured his lips in a fiery kiss, and he eagerly returned it. His mouth worked hard and fast against yours, in a brand new style of coruscating and devastating passion. Hot and heavy, the kiss tasted just like Loki’s always had, but now it contained an extra dose of stardust. 

Loki's hands cupped your cheeks, thumbs brushing against your cheekbones, his hips again rolling against yours. His breath was quick against your skin, his needy groans like music to your ears. This transcendental combination of the past and present, of both the mortal plane and of the stars themselves, somehow craved you this badly and he wasn’t even afraid to show it. 

It was so strange; Loki may have come from the stars, but somehow, he was still beholden to you here on Earth. 

Within moments your legs wrapped themselves around his waist. Your tongue swiped at his bottom lip, requesting entry, and he granted it. Your hands drifted to his neck, his drifted to your thighs, and your bodies writhed together, eagerly, desperately, hungrily. 

The heat between you escalated even further - the kind of heat that usually precipitated the creation of a new star in the sky. Just as you began to yank the jumpsuit’s zipper down further, a shimmer of emerald washed down your bodies, effortlessly and fully undressing the both of you. 

You fucking loved it when he did that. 

Loki could use his magic to do anything he wanted; he could, and had already, used it to destroy, and to maim, and to control. But now he only used it to protect the ones he’d previously tried to conquer. Now he just used it to love - or when he couldn’t handle not being inside you for another second. 

His skin was hot against yours, his hands worshiped your curves. Your body stretched and arched underneath his, taking him in, making love to him like it was the very first time. It always felt that way, like you were floating one hundred thousand miles above the Earth, like the stars were finally within reach and only now could you actually reach them. 

Your fingernails dug into his hips. The sound of the creaking bed was soon drowned out by breathless moans against your ear, of prayers and curses and promises. Your toes curled, your eyelids fluttered shut. Wild movements crescendoed into the purest form of what you knew to be the truth: the Earth was blue, the moon was silver, and Loki’s love would always be with you no matter where he went. 

The orgasm ripped through you like a gravitational force collapsing the entire universe. Your muscles tensed, your body trembled underneath him. Pleasure seeped out of your pores and you cried out for him, incoherent and delirious. It felt like you had left your body entirely - remarkably disconnected from reality, but still safely anchored to him. 

Loki fell off the edge just after you did. His muscles contracted as he clung to you, his voice nothing but shameless groans and heated gasps. With parted lips and a heavy breath, he intertwined his fingers with yours, he buried his face into your neck, and together your bodies finally collapsed within that mutual satisfaction. 

An immeasurable length of time passed during the quiet contentment that followed, and by now, the sun had fully set. Unsure of whether you were just dozing or if you’d actually joined the astral plane, you allowed yourself to remain limp and boneless in his arms. Once again, gravity had no authority here, and you found peace just drifting aimlessly through the ever-growing expansion of outer space. 

“You never answered my earlier question, darling….” 

Loki’s demulcent voice gently pulled you back down to Earth. Your eyelids struggled to open underneath the pressure of the planet’s immense gravity, and suddenly you couldn’t remember anything that had transpired beforehand. 

“No, I’m...pretty sure I answered it already,” you replied with a false confidence, stretching your body against his in an obvious attempt to distract him. 

He chuckled and shifted with you, propping himself up on one elbow. His other hand traced a swirling pattern along your hip. “And I’m quite certain that you didn’t, love…”

For someone called the God of Mischief, he was surely determined to never let you get away with anything. You let out a laughing groan of frustration, and as your eyes opened, as you looked up into his, your breath vanished from your lungs. 

The stars looked so different now. They weren’t Ziggy’s, nor Bowie’s, anymore - they were Loki’s. His glamour had started to fail while you were making love, and now the large constellations of the deepest greens and blues, of Loki himself, were all that stared lovingly back at you. 

Loki grinned when he noticed the awe in your expression. His brow arched in a curious and teasing fashion when you couldn’t answer him. 

“My goodness, she’s turned into a cosmonaut and floated away, hasn’t she…?” he murmured softly, pretending to talk to himself. He took his fingers and made them dance against the sensitive skin of your neck to get your attention. “Hello, darling? Are you still there?” 

Almost immediately you were drowning in a fit of giggles. You scrunched up your shoulders and tried to squirm away, laughing and cursing at him while Loki continued his teasing. But his fingers, tender yet relentless on your sensitive skin, made it impossible to keep your eyes open or coordinate your muscles enough to put a stop to his attack. 

“Yes, hello? I was wondering if you’ve seen a beautiful girl in there?” he continued in that same vexatious tone, his hold on you tightening as he nuzzled his face to yours. “She’s my darling companion, and I’ve been missing her terribly. Can you tell her to come back to me, please?” 

You let out more breathless laughs, you made more desperate wriggles in his grasp. If you’d been able to see anything, you would have seen his cheeky grin and sparkling eyes, all lit up with mirth and devilry. There was absolutely nothing Loki loved more than play, and perhaps that was the true meaning of life anyway. 

But when you finally cried out for mercy, he instantly relented, granting you more benevolence within a single moment of play than he’d ever been given in centuries. And all things considered, Loki was still quite delicate in his handling of you. After all, he had gentleness woven deep within him - the kind that had developed out of defiance, not because it was taught, and that just made him all the more genuine. 

Dutifully, like it was an honor, he shifted your bodies so that he was on his back and you were nestled safely to his chest. Your leg curled around his, and after his fingers completed their soothing motions over the skin he’d just attacked, they moved in wide swoops along your back. 

“I suppose I should repeat my question then?” he murmured softly after kissing your temple. 

His skin, soft and smooth and pale, now smelled like an ancient fire that could burn his way through anything, if he’d wanted it to. It was intoxicating. You wondered if that was the same scent that had once filled the air of Asgard, if you’d ever get to experience it yourself someday. 

“Mmm, yeah. I think you should…” 

Loki cleared his throat, hesitating. His fingertips drifted up to the divot of your shoulder. “Did you truly not enjoy the costume I chose?” 

His voice was so quiet, so tender that it made your heart ache a little bit. You shifted on the bed, leaning up to look him in the eyes. 

“No, I did love it, Loki! It was really thoughtful of you, and for a second, I…” You smiled fondly, recalling the moment you first saw him, while one of your favorite songs ever blasted from your record player. “I really thought it was actually David Bowie, back from the dead…” 

Loki quirked an eyebrow. “And so naturally, your first reaction was to…laugh at it?” 

Your lips pursed together, trying to suppress another one. “Okay, I’m sorry about that. But I wasn’t laughing at the costume, it was honestly just…really overwhelming to walk in and see so unexpectedly…”

“Oh, you found it to be overwhelming, did you?” Loki grinned again, apparently possessing an infinite supply of them. “My poor little dearest, I’m afraid you only have yourself to blame for that.”

“Me?!” you laughed incredulously. “But I’m the victim here!”

So sure of himself, Loki gave a teasing nod. “Yes, you see, darling - I was in the process of choosing the appropriate level of detail for the illusion when you so rudely interrupted me…”

You maintained a playful, sarcastic expression as he explained himself. “Sure, sure. Or you could have just, you know…locked the bedroom door if you didn’t want to be interrupted…” 

Loki chucked and playfully swatted at your hip. “So then tell me, what about it was too much for you? I had already decided that the red hair was a bit excessive, but should I alter the clothing as well? The voice?” he asked, his hand now softly soothing the skin he’d just swatted. 

You silently thanked whatever it was other there that Loki had decided to keep his actual hair; it was one of his best features. Almost automatically, your fingers drifted through those gorgeous strands of caliginous curls, relishing in their strength and fluidity. He let out a tranquil hum when your touch grazed his scalp, and the sound was so effortless, so real, that nothing else could ever compare. 

Unfortunately, your thoughts then drifted towards far less pleasant topics. 

No one in their right mind could ever bring Loki’s capabilities as a sorcerer into question, especially not during battle. In fact, Wanda had previously expressed feelings of inadequacy when comparing her talents to his. But he had spent entire centuries perfecting his craft, he’d dedicated entire human lifetimes to his studies - to the point where most people remained completely unaware of its full extent once an illusion had been cast. 

A large part of that was because he preferred to remain an unanswerable question to everyone else, especially after the attack on New York. He’d rather they looked at his daggers instead of at his soul, or at the black heart he worried was the true source of his seidr. He didn’t want anyone to know what he was truly capable of, lest they fear him even more - or try to use his own knowledge against him. 

But if he wore the illusion of one of Bowie’s personas to the party - not dressed as, but if he actually was the physical embodiment of Ziggy Stardust come back to life - then everyone would know just how afraid of him they should be. You could see the fear-mongering op-ed headlines already - Former Alien Invader Transforms Himself into a Dead Rocker. What’s to Stop Him from Imitating the President Next? 

And the critics who didn’t make that massive jump towards an impossible conclusion? You already knew that if he wore the wrong costume to the party, they’d have even more reason to pick him apart; if they secretly loved his costume, they’d simply accuse him of pandering. There was literally no direction for him to go that wouldn’t result in more needless hatred being spewed at him. 

Even more pressing than all of that, what if they accused him of corrupting an innocent human when they learned about your relationship? You desperately didn’t want to make his life harder than it needed to be, but neither could you face bringing that concern up to him; what if he secretly agreed with them? What if he decided he was defiling your entire life just by existing within it?

What if he decided to leave you, in order to correct that grievous mistake? 

Your fingertips gently traced the angle of his jaw. His eyes drifted closed as he clearly savored your touch, and his expression was just so serene, so peaceful. You couldn’t let him sacrifice that tranquility for the sake of a party; Loki may not have needed your protection on the battlefield, but you sure as hell weren’t going to let him wander into danger back at home. 

“Well, maybe the issue is that you were using an illusion, instead of a costume…” 

His eyes fluttered open beneath a furrowed brow. His pupils widened before fixating on you. “I don’t understand. The goal is to become the subject in question, is it not?” 

You couldn’t help but laugh again; sometimes he surprised you with how human he was, and other times it was because of how alien he was. Letting out a slow breath, you pushed yourself up to sitting next to him. Your legs curled over to the side, and you draped yourself across his chest. 

“I think the real issue is that you might be slightly misunderstanding the point of a costume contest,” you began with a gentle smile. “Using magic to alter your appearance for a contest could be considered…cheating, by some people.” 

His expression was tender, but unrelenting. “I’m still not seeing the problem, darling. If I’m to become someone else in order to participate, then I’m going to become someone else…” 

“But the whole point is how much effort you put into the costume,” you explained with a gentle head tilt. “It’s about how creative you can be with either a limited skill set, or a small budget, or shortened time constraints…” 

You paused for a moment to let your words sink in before continuing.

“And I’m so sorry, but using magic just…isn’t that much effort for you. No matter how amazing or lifelike the illusion is.” 

He nodded, and his eyes flickered with understanding. For a very brief moment, he seemed to be taking your words to heart. But when his lips curved into a cheeky grin, you knew he was about to make another snarky comment. 

“You’re saying Stark will have a conniption if I win the costume contest at his own party? Is that it?” 

You sighed and rolled your eyes while matching his smile. It was actually incredible that he still had this much energy to devote towards acting like a total menace. “Yes, if it helps you to think about it like that, then that is exactly what I’m trying to say…” 

Loki continued thinking about your explanation for another moment, his gaze distant while his hand ran along the length of your arm. Eventually, the grin on his face slowly shifted towards one of true sincerity. 

“Alright then. What would you suggest I do instead?” 

You met his gaze with an even bigger smile of your own. All that remained of his illusion was a jagged, crimson lightning bolt stretching down his cheek, and you brought your fingertips down to gently trace along the bolt’s edges. His skin was so very soft, the transition between alabaster and crimson so seamless. It was only then that you remembered one of the purchases made earlier that day with Wanda and Nat. 

“Well, for starters…I think we ought to actually paint this design on your face.” 

Before he could even respond, you had already hopped out of bed - not that you would have responded to him anyway. And while wearing nothing but a scheming grin, you practically soared across the room, stopping just long enough to grab a few clothes from the bedroom floor on your way to the living room. 

“We ought to do what, darling?” Loki’s incredulous voice called out after you disappeared through the doorway. 

As you hurried into the living room, you bounced on one foot, and then the other, while pulling the pair of panties up to your hips. After clumsily slipping the t-shirt over your head and guiding your arms through its sleeves, you lowered down to your knees next to the shopping bags left by the front door. 

Did you have any experience with painting faces? None whatsoever.

Was that going to stop you now? Absolutely not. His illusion may have been overwhelming, but Loki’s inspiration of picking a David Bowie character for his Halloween costume was beyond perfect, and you were going to do whatever it took to make that idea a more feasible reality. 

Rummaging past the bright pink wig and the fringed flapper dress and the vampire fangs purchased earlier that day, you finally found it: a palette of Halloween make-up. The flat, rectangular box contained a few small brushes and a row of circular discs, each one filled with a different and very bright shade of creamy, metallic make-up. 

It was definitely a very cheap make-up set, and probably had way too many questionable ingredients that you’d never be able to fully investigate, but it should work just fine for this little trial - as long as Loki let you anywhere near him with it. You were sure that he would after batting your pretty little eyelashes at him. 

Back in the bedroom, you could hear him shifting on the bed. You shot back up to your feet. “Don’t get up! Just stay right there, Loki, I’m coming back!”

You carefully ripped into the package as you padded across the living room. Not only was this your first time painting someone’s face, but it might be the first time Loki’d ever had his face painted as well. A twinge of excitement, laced with a hint of unease, swam freely inside your veins; there was a good reason why your skillset had led you towards a career of getting beat up on a professional level, instead of towards a quieter, peaceful career of make-up artistry or hair-styling. 

Complicating matters even more was the fact that Loki was quite particular about his appearance. The last thing you wanted to do was ruin this newfound interest in the Halloween party. 

When you returned to the doorway of your bedroom, Loki was seated on the edge of your shared bed. His long legs were spread wide, with delicious expanses of thigh peeking out between the tousled sheets. His expression was dreamy and brooding as he ran a large hand through his midnight curls, like his thoughts were a hundred thousand miles away while he smoothed and detangled. 

His face lit up when he finally noticed you, but then it dropped when he saw what you were holding. “Please tell me that’s a joke. You’re joking with that, yes?” 

You grinned and shook your head like you were trying to fling your nervous energy into a nearby galaxy. “Not a chance. Scoot!” you laughed, waving your hand to get him to make room for you. 

He complied, but still let out a frustrated groan as he shifted to the middle of the bed and leaned back against the headboard. “Darling, be reasonable. I’m already getting a rash just looking at that preposterous concoction…” 

“Oh, come on! ” you whined, fluttering your eyelashes in a way you know he both loved and hated. “I know it’s not Armani, but you’ll survive a test run with it, right?” 

Loki sighed, and then he softly patted the mattress next to him. “You’re lucky you’re so damn adorable…” 

“I know. It’s a blessing and a curse for you, isn’t it?” 

Having won the first battle, you settled next to him on the bed. Your legs curled up underneath you, and with an innocent smile, you blinked at him once more, a silent request that he drop the final remainder of his illusion. The lightning bolt on his face disappeared with an emerald glimmer, and a playful smirk replaced it. 

“Yes, it is. And you’re going to be so very embarrassed if this folderol does actually kill me…” 

You carefully pried open the palette and dragged a brush through the creamy, red substance on the palette. “Oh, please. Of all the things that could kill you, it’s not going to be drug-store brand holiday make-up…” 

Starting at his forehead, you made gentle strokes against his skin, testing to see how well it absorbed the cream. As expected, it didn’t smear very well, the edges were smudged and uneven. But there was no need to panic just yet - it was still completely fixable. That is, as long as you avoided direct eye contact with him, or else you might become even more flustered than you already were. 

Loki’s gaze shifted as you worked, watching either your hands or your face depending on whether you were gathering color or painting his skin. His features were soft, his eyes still dreamy as he watched you work, but you carefully kept your attention towards the task at hand; his attention was like a black hole of colossal proportions, and once you were caught in it, the only thing keeping you from splitting into a million different strands of yourself was Loki himself. 

When he realized his alluring good-looks weren’t enough to distract you this time, he switched to a different tactic.

“Darling, do you really expect me to believe that Stark is allowing Miss Potts to paint his face for the party?” 

You snorted, expecting nothing less from someone called the God of Mischief. “If Tony knows what’s good for him, he is.”

As you pulled the brush across the bridge of his nose, Loki let out a chuckle and titled his head. “Is that some sort of veiled threat, darling? What happens if I refuse to cooperate with you?” 

That little movement was just enough to ruin what might have been a decent brush stroke, and it made you smear crimson down the length of his nose instead of diagonally across his cheek. 

“Hey, stop moving!” you gasped and laughed at the same time. “Or you’re gonna wind up looking even more ridiculous!” 

“Would it be rude to say that I find that difficult to believe, my love?” 

Ignoring his comment, you licked the tips of your finger and swiped it along the edges of the lightning bolt, trying to smooth it out. When the makeup just smeared instead of erasing neatly, a new rush of panic settled in your chest. You licked your finger again and rubbed it harder over his skin, and then you tried using your other, untainted fingers - but all that resulted in was the tips of those digits, and now your tongue, turning the brightest red to have ever existed. 

“Something the matter, darling?” Loki asked knowingly, repeating his earlier question. He pursed his lips together, just barely attempting to suppress a vindicated smile as he watched you struggle. “Is the inferior product you insisted upon ruining the homemade look you’d imagined for me?” 

Forcing your expression into one of neutrality required a tremendous amount of effort. “Nope. Everything’s going perfectly, my love,” you lied, switching the makeup palette to your other hand. Within seconds, the fingertips of both hands were traitorously stained with the truth. 

“Really? You’re absolutely sure about that, darling?” Loki asked, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he glanced at the make-up palette. “Please correct me if I’m mistaken, but there seems to be more tint on your fingers than what’s left in the container…” 

Your face scrunched up in amused frustration, and the unpleasant taste of chemicals and oils now completely coated your tongue. “Mmhmm, this is a���totally normal part of the process.” 

His comments were just making everything worse, but you were still determined to see this attempt through to the end. At that point, the makeup palette was discarded entirely and soon became lost within the bed sheets as you pushed yourself up to your knees and shifted closer to him. You took the hem of your t-shirt and pulled it up in a desperate attempt to finally fix the bolt’s outline and salvage your work. 

You swiped the soft fabric down the length of his nose, but the make-up must have believed your t-shirt to be a brush, and all you did was push the red deeper into his skin. Silently cursing yourself, you pulled your t-shirt up further and tried to focus on gathering as much color as possible. Secretly though, you prayed that effectively flashing him like this would distract him from making more teasing comments at your expense. 

But that didn’t quite work either, and Loki’s chuckle from behind your t-shirt was both leery and leering. 

“And now you’ve resorted to seduction as a means of distraction from your lies…” he purred, the sound almost a growl as he brought his hands to your waist. “I’d say our relationship might be having a negative effect on your morality, darling, but you’d be much better at this if it was…” 

You were still determined not to let him win, even as a shuddered breath tumbled from your lips. Your heart beat faster in your chest as the entire front of your t-shirt became tinted with red, and your face warmed from the feel of his hands gliding down to your hips. 

“It’s fine! It’s fine, Loki. Trust me, I’ve done this a million - ” 

“Sweetheart.” 

Loki’s voice was kind but firm when he interrupted. He leaned back as he pulled your shirt down, revealing the devastation on his face that your attempts to fix had caused. “Please just admit that you’re not very good at this…” 

You gasped and clamped a hand over your mouth. There was red everywhere - in his eyebrows and his eyelashes, across his right cheek and somehow, underneath his chin. The combination of mess on his both serious and amused expression was a horrifying, delightful sight, and you only barely managed to swallow the giggle bubbling in your throat. 

Loki arched a suspicious eyebrow. He flicked his wrist and produced a small, handheld mirror with his seidr, and he stared at you expectantly - granting you one final opportunity to come clean, as it were. 

“Come on, darling. I will love you no less if you just admit it.” 

But you couldn’t; all you could manage was to laugh, cover your eyes and brace for the inevitable as he finally looked at his reflection. 

“This is absolutely marvelous, darling,” he finally replied in a wry tone of voice. 

You shook while trying to suppress another laugh, but it was all over now. He’d seen the abominable, unskilled attempt at facial decoration you’d left on his skin, and you knew he was never going to let you hear the end of it despite the fact that he was laughing too. 

“And you were absolutely right, this is so much better than using magic. Perhaps I should go into battle like this. I could simply frighten our enemies to death…” 

You let out a heavy laugh of defeat and let your hands fall to your thighs. You were sure there was probably red make-up smudged all over your own face as well now, but you didn’t care anymore. “Alright, so. Maybe I’m not that great at painting faces…” 

“Oh, on the contrary, sweet girl…” Loki chuckled as he tossed the mirror away and pulled you closer, settling you over his lap. He leaned up and nuzzled his nose to yours. “This is impeccable work. Stunning, even…” 

“No, stop it! You’re making a mess!” you laughed and tried to look away, but his face followed yours, no doubt just smearing even more make-up all over each other. “Loki! You’re ruining all of my hard work!” 

His arms tightened around you. He began to kiss and nip at your jaw, your nose, your neck. “Or am I making it more authentic? Did you ever think about that, darling?” 

Resigning yourself to retaliation at Loki’s level, you matched his every kiss and nip with another to his jaw, his nose, his neck. He let out an encouraging chuckle and cupped your jaw with his hands, angling your face properly to his. When your lips finally met, he let out a soft hum, and then his kiss shifted into one of reassurance. 

Your arms slid around his neck as he leaned back against the headboard. His lips moved slowly and tenderly as he held you close to his chest, and they said everything that you needed to know. This was okay, he was okay. Aside from a few errant, washable streaks of crimson on his face, nothing real was actually amiss here. 

He may have been teasing you before, but he was also loving you. The experiment had yielded far less than stellar results, but that was still okay. A suitable ensemble for the party would be found eventually - or perhaps just better make-up products - and the two of you were still going to have as much fun as someone could have at a corporate holiday party, even if there were a few extra pairs of wandering eyes there. 

After another moment or two, the kiss broke naturally. You let out a slow breath and pressed your forehead to his. “Alright, I fully admit that I completely suck at face-painting. We don’t have to go down that route…” 

Loki smiled and nodded. A glimmering wash of emerald erased any evidence of red from all skin and clothing. “Yes, I’m quite certain that we can come up with something else…” 

By revealing his mortal partner to the world, you’d hoped it would soften the rough edges of Loki that his detractors wanted to keep illuminated underneath a hateful microscope. You’d wanted to protect him, to make his life simpler, to possibly ease his troubled integration on the planet he’d once tried to subjugate. 

But the relaxed smile on his lips told you that he didn’t need you to do any of those things. Loki was from the stars, yes, but he only ever clung to one specific thing. He may have come from on high, his perspective and past experiences originating from a millennia away from yours, but he was still here, looking at you. Loving only you.

You were his, and he was yours. No amount of criticism, or any blades held to his throat, or cruel darts thrown at his loving eyes were ever going to avert his gaze. They could make him climb mountains on mountains to get to you, but as long as there were sunbirds to soar back down with, then it was all worth it, wasn’t it? 

Your hands slid into his hair, gently tangling themselves within his dark curls. Your eyes roamed slowly over his angular features and icy blue eyes, admiring the planes of his cheekbones and the true depth of his gaze that simultaneously showcased both the wide expanse of outer space and your own reflection within his irises. 

Loki was timeless. He was broken and hopeful, grateful and almost too intelligent to not know better. He was pensive, and he understood light and dark better than anyone else you’d ever met. The noir shadows of his heart were what had initially drawn you in, but the hidden brilliance of his glowing soul was what had made you stay. 

A new idea coalesced inside your heart, and you settled your hips to his with a sly grin. “Are you by any chance familiar with my favorite David Bowie persona?” 

Loki smiled again, but this time he shook his head. “Are you really only telling me now that the Space Oddity himself is not your favorite persona of his?” he murmured curiously. 

You bit your lip and reached for your laptop on the nightstand, eager to introduce him to something brand new once more.

⊱ ── ༓ ── ⋅•⋅⊰ ── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ∙ ⋅ ── ⊱⋅•⋅ ── ༓ ── ⊰

Click here to be added to my Loki fic tag list! 💚

[mins-fins]

self control — [ mark lee — 엔시티. ]

where no matter how stubborn he may be, it's only you that mark lee really wants.. | now playing ❅

people tend to do the worst of things to cope when they're unhappy.

for mark, it's many things. scribbling down equally depressive song lyrics, smoking, retreating himself from everyone, drinking, the occasional late night hookup..

and also standing in front of his ex boyfriends door at eleven pm.

listen, mark isn't an easy guy. you two have already been broken up for months, it isn't as if this is some planned decision, it's a spare of the moment arbitration that mark would've never made if he was in his right mind.

but the thing is, he is in his right mind. it's not like he's drunk or high, he could use the excuse that his feet dragged him all the way over here, yet you would never take that with any sort of reason. it was either this or sinking back into his work, which he doesn't exactly want to do.

he contemplates as he stares at your door, just fucking brown hard wood. nothing special. he clears his throat as he raises his fist to land a knock, his anxiety rising as silence again fills the hallway.

he hears shuffling behind other doors, jazz music faintly playing, a few neighbors arguing, but it's all tuned out in favor of the the footsteps rapidly approaching behind your door. he thinks he might have enough time to ru—

"..oh, hi".

your tone is inquiring, and mark understands why. seeing your ex in front of your door after three months of simply silence is strange, and there's nothing behind your eyes but pure confusion.

mark stares with his big eyes bugged out freakishly, he blinks as he collects the words he so desperately rehearsed before deciding to knock your door. "uh— hi, i'm sorry i don't know why.."

he can't speak, because you're looking at him with those eyes. it's really hard to focus when everything is happening.

"can we talk?"

seamless segway, your eyes drag over mark's entire figure, he tenses up in a way he knows you can clearly sense. "sure" you whisper, face scrunching at your tone.

mark enters and immediately wants to shrink. he likes your place, he always has loved your place, it's why he preferred going to you in comparison to you going to him. the expanse of a space holds solace, memories, and many moments of drunk sobbing that mark's lips take an upturn at.

"so why do you want to talk?"

oh, right, his excuse, mark's lips take a downturn. his hands shove into his pockets as he rocks back and forth on his heels, his tongue coming to lick at his lips. it's so strange to see you act so normal,

okay so maybe averting eyes and cheeks that are tinted red can't be described as 'normal' around your ex.

"i don't, i lied and i didn't know what to say when i saw you actually opened your door for me".

you pause, then, you chuckle, head topping downward as your gaze laser focuses on the floor. "that's funny.."

"yeah".

good god it's awkward.

you shrug your shoulders, spinning on your heel as you motion towards the kitchen. "do you want hot chocolate?"

mark shakes his head silently, settling onto your couch, quickly sinking into the comfortable cushions.

you blink, sighing as you settle beside him, the air again growing awkward as you place your hands into your lap, exhaustion clear in your eyes.

"is this weird?"

"after three months yeah" you snicker at your own words. "i probably would've understood if you came around like a few weeks after? but this was really random.."

"yeah".

"so what gives?"

"i.."

i missed you, no i miss you, i want you so bad, i'm sorry for overworking myself then dismissing your worries, random people at bars can't compare to you y/n, i want you back.

"i don't know".

you hum, kissing your teeth.

mark intently watches the movement of your lips and absolutely hates himself for doing so.

"it's not normal to randomly show up at your exes place, mark".

you didn't have to tell mark that, he opts to glance away on his shame. you relax your back against the cushion, biting the inside of your cheek. "so either you want me back.. or you're going to assassinante me".

oh well, you've always been good at reading mark's mind.

mark straightens his posture, scooting closer. "i miss you" he whispers, sucking his teeth at his own words. he sounds like some desperate loser who never got over his ex, oh wait.. that is what he is.

who cares? it's past ten o'clock, being ashamed of his actions is simply not needed. "a lot.. it's embarrassing".

"not really that embarrassing if you just told me right now".

mark is very desperate, his hands find purchase on your legs. you stare, and he stares back, eye contact much too difficult to avoid. "i don't know, it still kinda is.." he draws shapes into your pants, eyes flitting towards your lips.

how obvious can he be?

his eyes again widen exponentially as you catch him staring bright as day. well, he threw shame out of the window a long long time ago.

"did you miss me too?"

you contemplate on your words, a trial that only gets the anxiety back up on mark's tail. his bottom lip is caught between his teeth, a certain look in his eye that you seem to find amusing.

mark begins chewing on his lip as he impatiently awaits an answer, maybe he should shout, or scream, or.. something, it's embarrassing how spontaneous his responses are.

and he's about to scream, but you decide to answer his question by leaning forward, soft lips pressing against his.

they've always been soft, well chapped, a smooth force that seem to contrast with his own. he unfortunately can't keep his composure, letting his arms come up to wrap around your neck as you fall backward, mark messily staggering into your lap as he keeps you two pressed together.

it would be an understatement to say that he's addicted, your hands slide down towards his hips, and he sighs against your lips. he tugs you closer, as if the heat radiating from you isn't enough, as if he wants to be one with you.

his left hand comes down to cradle the side of your face, nothing else mattering. maybe your neighbors have begun fighting again, the women across the hall is baking chocolate chip cookies, your package might've arrived just now, but fuck it, who cares? mark knows he doesn't.

the only reason for separation is air, but mark could fathom kissing you until he ran out of breath, his fingers beginning to play with the hem of your shirt as he watches the rise and fall of your chest.

"yeah" your voice has a rasp to it that makes mark dizzy for a second. "missed you too".

mark parts his lips, staring down at yours. his eyes are blown wide, sparkling under the light of the lamp which barely illuminates the living room. "then maybe you should kiss me again".

you snort, but you oblige once more, allowing for mark to capture his soft lips once again. they taste like cherries, oh you never change, mark is positively going crazy. after a month of shady motel rooms including people he can barely remember, mark could never get you out of his mind.

mark tugs at your bottom lip, another small breath falling from his lips. he doesn't like cherries much, he just likes how they taste on your lips.

"you know exes don't do this right?"

mark pinches your collarbone, drawing a wince. "you know how to ruin the mood you.."

he can't exactly collect his words, your smile is taunting. "just don't talk about it".

"then we'll have to awkwardly talk in the morning".

mark shakes his head, cheeks a soft rose red. "who cares? were doing this now".

he isn't exactly sure why he's so.. determined, per say, but maybe kissing just draws something different from him. "so you want to sleep with me then not talk about tomorrow morning?"

"who cares about tomorrow? i'm focusing on right now".

you again decide to snicker, resting your forehead on mark's chest. you clearly find his words extremely amusing, but your fingers begin caressing under his shirt, the ministrations as comforting as they are calming.

"hey," mark softly calls out, eyes lidded heavily. "you know if we don't do this right now, i could die, and do you want me to die without getting in my pants one last time?"

how stupid, mark sees it in the way you laugh. "you're ridiculous".

"but i'm right".

you roll your eyes, still completely smitten. "okay, sure" you then pull him closer. "since you want me so bad".

mark attempts his best scowl. "you're so full of yourself".

your smile is beautiful, but mark still has to feign vexation at the sight. "and you talk too much".

"oh and what are you going to do? shut me u—"

mark yelps as you decide to turn the tables, now having him be the one under you. "yea, gladly".

and maybe mark isn't so against that idea.

[happy-beeeps]

Snowfall

Pairing: Crosshair x reader!

Summary: when a new mission brings up old traumas, you remind Crosshair of your new life

Warnings: talk of death, trauma

Wc: 1k!

a/n: this is part of the song fic exchange with @cloneficgiftexchange !!! This is my fic for @urfriendlyneighbornightfury :) unfortunately I’ve never seen LOTR so I hope I did the songs justice!

It’s dark outside, as it normally is in the deep of winter on Pagodan. The system’s frigid air made it the perfect place for criminals to lay low, because honestly, who in their right mind would come here?

You, evidently.

Hunter had been pretty sparse with details on the intel on this trip. It was low risk, medium reward, as almost every bounty had been in the days since the rest of the batch had settled on Pabu. Everyone had established themselves easily into the lifestyle of the islanders, picking up quiet, comfortable jobs to support the village. Everyone except Crosshair.

Hunter had attempted to get him to work as a secondary Sheriff, but it turns out an island as small as Pabu, really only had need for the one. He had contemplated working as a pilot, a captain, but nothing seemed to fit.

So, he went off-system. And where he went, you followed.

What Cross had in ranged skills, you had in hand to hand. Your first meeting was a testament to this, knife pressed against his throat when the batch had wandered down a dark alley looking for a rogue separatist in the underbelly of Coruscant. You’d been inseparable ever since.

Now, however, you were regretting that notion, as the blanket of snow streaked across the inky black sky of Pagoda. The shitty public house you found yourself staying in offered little in the way of comfort, and you scooched further into the mattress to press yourself against Cross’ body in a desperate display of cold–only he wasn’t there.

He’s standing with his back to you, silhouetted against the pane of the viewport, clothes stretched taut over his lithe frame. “Cross?” you murmur, moving to get out of the creaking bed.

“Go back to bed cyare,” he whispers, flinching at the soft sound of your voice.

“Not till you tell me what’s wrong.” You move to stand behind him, hands pressed flat against his stomach, feeling the muscles there relax at your touch.

“And if I say nothing is wrong?”

“I’ll haul you back to bed for lying.”

He smirks, the sight silhouetted against the moonlight. You feel his body release slightly under your touch, and he speaks, “The snow.”

It hangs there unspoken, the implication of what the snow means. The snow means fallen brothers, it means a blaster shot into Mayday’s chest and blood on his hands. It means months where he ran from you.

“Is there anything I can do?”

He lets out a shaky breath, then stills. “No. You’ve done enough. Taken me back when you shouldn’t have.”

“I won’t say you had nothing to apologize for, but we aren’t all blameless here. I should’ve worked harder to get to you sooner.”

“It doesn’t matter now,” he moves his hand down to lay atop yours on his stomach, “it’s just…”

“Heavy.”

A breath and then, “Heavy.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“About what? Barton IV?” He sucks a hiss in through his teeth, “no particularly.”

“Then we don’t have to. We’ll talk when you’re ready.”

And you do, about an hour later. You’re back in bed, still awake, listening to the wind scream past the viewport. “I’ve buried my brothers, seen them buried under the snow,” he sighs, head inclining just enough to lean on yours.

“But look where that led you,” you press against him, speaking softly, like you’d scare the moment away. In the weeks after returning to Pabu, the walls Cross built to keep others out slowly began to crack, but even now those fleeting moments of vulnerability still felt so rare.

“It’s hard… to accept that this is my life. I’ve been fire and death for long.”

The words are bitter and cold, and they ring with a clarity that makes you pause your absentminded dragging across his skin. “But you don’t have to be anymore. We can stop this lifestyle whenever you want,”

“Can we?”

A beat. Then, the answer. Simple and clear as day. “If you want it.”

“I do.” He rolls over on his side, pulling you close to his chest and tucking you in against him. “Mesh’la I do. But even this, this lifestyle. You can have more on Pabu than with me.”

“I don’t want anything on Pabu if I can’t have it with you, don’t you see? What are you afraid of, you’ve been unsettled since we got here?”

“You should be terrified of me,” the chill in his voice nearly eclipses the chill in the air as he speaks, “but you aren’t. I am death, it follows me everywhere.”

“Cross,” you sigh, breath fanning across him, “you deserve to let yourself feel happy.”

“But you deserve—“

“Crosshair, I’ve killed people. I’ve killed good people, bad people. I was a mercenary. I’ve let myself be happy, and be happy with you. Not only am I not afraid of you, you forget that you should fear me too.”

“Maybe a little healthy fear is good,” he murmurs as he nips at your ear, “but thank you. For everything.”

“You have nothing to thank me for,” you answer, pressing a kiss to his cheek. He answers with a kiss in return, hot and deep and tasting of whiskey and smoke, of him, and you decide that fear aside, pain aside, you think you can live in this forever.

When his grip on your back tightens, you think he feels it too.

[corruptedlynx]

Werewolf x Reader

"Kornerstone Bakery"

Myron Arches [Werewolf Male]

Word Count: 7,531 SFW

Summary: Moving to a new town without a support network can be terrifying at times, sure, but that doesn’t mean that there aren’t plenty of things to do and see as you get settled in. And finding a bakery just a short distance from your home may just end up being one of the best finds so far, especially with the cute guy working the counter when you go in. Endearingly shy, you decide it’s certainly worth the effort to get to know him – and all the fresh goods are a win too. 

------

The moment you swing the door open you know that this bakery is about to become one of your favorite spots in town. 

The chime of the gentle bell knocked by the door is welcoming in its own right, but it is nothing compared to the wave of smells that greet you – though it is a hard enough feat to beat the smell of fresh baked goods at all, you figure. Still, the glass display cases are lined with loaves of bread and other sweets. The cinnamon rolls that still have steam rolling off them having already caught your eye. 

A gentle voice snaps you from your hungered window shopping and you look up to the register to meet the gaze of the man who greeted you. A lean man, with a thick curl of light blonde hair and more freckles than you could ever hope to count is standing there wearing an apron covered in flour. He even has a bit smudged across his cheek, but you cannot be sure he even notices. 

He’s sunshine, very cute sunshine incarnate, you decide as you step up to meet him at the register. 

“First time here?” His voice is just as soft as the rest of his features, and you almost swear that the accompanying smile makes you feel warmer than the bread must be. 

“That obvious?” 

“Small town, so we get a lot of familiar faces.” he chimes, wiping his hands with a damp rag before setting it aside.

You smile, nodding along and slipping your hands into your pockets. “I just moved in about a week ago, but today’s really the first day that I've been out exploring.” 

This seems to catch his interest and he tilts his head as he looks you over. “Hopefully we’ve made a good first impression then – the town, I mean.” The young an seems to flush at his own words, stumbling before shaking it away and looking back to you. “Any ideas what you want?” 

You hum, mulling it over and leaning back to take one more look across the display case. Though you already know what you want first. “For now, just a cinnamon roll, and I may grab a few other things before I leave.” There are a small cluster of empty tables off to your left, and that should give you plenty of time to check in with friends, and maybe check out the cute baker some more too. 

The man in question steps away for a moment before bringing you one of the cinnamon rolls from the fresh batch, shooting you a quick smile as he does and waving away your offered card. “You can pay before you leave, how about that. So, if you do get anything else it’ll just be on one transaction.” 

You agree before wandering over to a table while the baker turns back around to continue cleaning up the store. You almost walk right into a chair and stumble past it for a moment thanks to the way you are too busy devouring the baked treat in your hands. You choose not to turn around, least the man is watching you. Lips pursed as you stand there for a moment thinking about what had happened before finally slumping into the seat with a pleased groan. 

It doesn’t take long after that to lose yourself in your own little world, with the thrum of soft acoustic songs playing in the background and a cinnamon roll that has no business being as good as it was already finished. You’re in the middle of replying to one of your friends and contemplating how many more sweets you might be able to handle when you’re caught off guard by the chime of the door, eyes flicking up on instinct. In the threshold stands a man who bears a slight resemblance to the baker, but bulkier and his hair is shaved down to almost his head, with a scruffy beard still obviously growing in. He shoots you a quick wink and you turn back to your phone instead, not all that interested. Seemingly unphased he cups his hands around his mouth, something you can still see in your peripheral, before he yells at the top of his lungs. “Myron!” 

There is a shuffling from the back where the cute baker had vanished just a few minutes prior. Now he looks decidedly less amused, face in a scowl as he stares down the gleeful man. “I have a customer, Joel, please keep your voice down.” 

It’s a sentiment that you echo in your head, your ears still ringing as you rub away at one, trying to clear up the sharp noise in vain. You look to the baker, Myron, for only a moment and he flashes you an apologetic smile before turning back to the older man. “Uncle Jess isn’t here,” he drawls, stepping forward and keeping his voice low, likely hoping to lead by example. 

It doesn’t work. 

Joel still speaks as loudly as he can, over exaggerating each word. “Well tell him I can’t work this Monday.” 

You can almost feel the relief radiating off Myron, but Jole apparently does not – or at the least he ignores it. “You always call out after a full moon; I don’t even know why he asks you to be here for opening.” 

“Because, my sweet little baby brother,” his words drip with condescension as he steps forward, pinching at Myron’s cheek as he speaks, “you’re the one who wanted to keep the bakery open the day after a full moon. And Uncle Jess doesn’t want to come in those days.”  

It’s that same babying voice you’ve heard before growing up, but Myron brushes his hand away with a warning growl. “I handle it every full moon and he day after, I can do it again.” He says nothing more, turning his back on Joel before busying himself, clearly not interested in hashing the conversation out any further. 

For his part, Joel seems to take the hint this time, or maybe his brother’s actions just cause him to lose interest, but he only shrugs it off and turns to walk out the door without further incident. 

You’re watching him leave when you hear Myron speak next. 

“I’m sorry about my brother.”  

You wince, realizing your disapproval had likely been written all over your face and you wave his apology away. “I know how it goes sometimes. But” you say, trying to figure out if you want to finish your sentence, finger thrumming against the case of your phone, “do you guys need any help around here?” 

“Usually it’s fine, but when you have a family business run by werewolves then full moons can get a little out of hand.” 

“Can’t be worse than middle schooler werewolves, can it?” 

Myron scrunches his face up in thought, and you can catch the little smile just barely visible. “I think it depends on which of my brothers gets involved.” 

This does at least leave you laughing for a moment, and when you do sneak another glace you can see a far more satisfied look on the werewolf’s face. Truthfully you hadn’t even realized he was one, but there were plenty of species who passed as human at first, and most people didn’t make a big show of telling everyone. “Well, if you guys ever need a little help around here, I’m not gonna be catching full moon fever anytime soon.” 

“A little bit of help with the register on those days might be nice,” he comments. “But I wouldn’t want to keep you from actual job.” 

“I work from home, and my schedule can be flexible, I don’t think helping out here every now and again would do much damage.” You point to the empty plate in front of you with a grin, “I’ll even take payment in cinnamon rolls.” 

Myron does laugh at that, and you notice the way his hand seems to cover his face as he turns away to do so. It’s becoming obvious that he’s a shy person, but that’s even more attractive to you. “I think we can work something out – but I'm sure you still have stuff to worry about with moving. So why don’t you call the store when you get everything squared away and we can talk more about it?” 

You agree, telling him your name before finally moving from your seat to clean up and buy a loaf of bread for home. It isn’t hard to see the pink tint to his checks the entire time you’re checking out, but you have a bit of mercy on him and only buy one more loaf of bread before waving goodbye and heading home. 

Maybe it’s because of how excited you are to spend a little extra time at Kornerstone Bakery with Myron (as if you had not been going down there every other day for the last two weeks under the pretense of just picking up snacks), but the day had finally come. 

You had spoken with Myron again while the bakery was slow the week prior about lending a hand now that you were settled into a rhythm with your job and life in your new town. The offer still stood for you to help out three days a month: the day before, the day of, and the day after a full moon. The first two would be easy, relatively, but the third was probably going to bring a lot of cranky werewolves to the door. 

Myron himself would likely be tired and wanted to focus instead on baking, seeing as it was usually their busiest day of the month. 

If everything went well enough you had even offered to help out more during their busier seasons and times, but there had been little discussion of that. Granted, that was more a slightly selfish attempt at getting closer to the curly haired baker. 

Over the last few visits to Kornerstone, you had quickly realized something in particular; if Myron wasn’t in Bakery Mode – as his uncle had put it – then he was an incredibly shy individual, more prone to hiding in the back flustered than shooting back any flirty remark. 

His uncle Jess had actually been there the second time that you visited and had borne witness to your attempts at flirting with a far too amused grin. The moment that Myron had stuttered out an excuse and gone off to hide in the back, leaving you standing there with a confused expression, he had been quick to approach. 

“Don’t take it personally,” he had told you, patting your shoulder sympathetically. “You didn’t do anything wrong; he just can’t handle someone as pretty as you flirtin’ with him. Poor thing went off to hide in the back before you could see just how close to a tomato his face can get.” 

You had given him an apologetic smile, hand hooked to the fabric of your top and thumbing at it worriedly. “I didn’t realize he’d react like that, wasn’t trying to make him uncomfortable, ya know?” 

“I doubt you did. I came to work the day after your first visit and had to listen to him gushing about this cute person who had been in the store, ‘fore his brother had shown up makin’ a right ass of himself.” 

Well, that had almost certainly been you. Given the mischievous glint in Jess's eyes and the way he would later try to get Myron alone with you each time following that visit, he knew for sure. 

Jess himself was nice enough. The bakery had been offered to him originally seeing as it was owned by his parents - Myron’s paternal grandparents whom you had yet to meet - but he didn’t want that responsibility. What he did want was to help out as he wished until he was sure Myron would be okay on his own, then move out to a larger ranch. He had certainly picked up the country accent during the years he had lived away from the state, and it was sticking around. It suited him though, you realized. 

But Jess wasn’t going to be there as a buffer for Myron to hide behind today, he was going to have to interact with you head-on while he showed you the ropes. After all, this was your training run, and you had been up far earlier than you had any business being in anticipation. Today was supposed to be a slow day, gearing up before tomorrow which would be the day prior to the full moon. A day most of the werewolf population started getting a bit antsy and everyone else seemed to catch a secondhand fever. 

And Myron, for his part, tried his best to keep as professional as he could when you showed up at the back door. The front of the store still dark with the blinds drawn. Daylight had yet to break, but it wouldn’t take long by now, with the first hints of the sun's rays already threatening to shine just over the tree line. 

“How long have you been here?” You had noticed immediately that you could already smell fresh bread and his apron was once more covered in flour until you couldn’t see the pattern. 

“An hour or two – I prep as much as I can after closing, and then while the first batches are baking I keep prepping for the rest of the day.” He waved you inside, shutting the door behind you in a half-graceful attempt at a sidestep. 

You said nothing about it, but it proved harder to bite back the amused smile on your lips. Having a little mercy first thing in the morning, you instead changed the subject to what you would be doing for the day. And it was simple enough. You had worked fast food before, and it was a simple POS system with all the prices and products preprogramed in. What was in warmed and sealed off display case was all the product they had, and if that ran out Myron could either give an estimate on a new batch or that was all. Though the latter really only applied to the cakes they sold – a different cake every day, and only one of each. If anyone gave you trouble then all you had to do was get Myron from the back, but he would likely be up there with you for much of the day. 

After all, it was supposed to be a painfully slow day. There were only so many times you could clean the same machines or mop the floors, do the dishes. And he had assured you that more often than not on shifts like this you would both be sitting in the little office (where he could see the door) or you could help him prep. 

But before the doors opened for the day, he had one more surprise for you, not that he had said it in as many words, losing his voice before he had gotten the sentiment across and motioned for you to sit. 

So, sit you do, at his awkward request. He motions for you to cover your eyes and with nothing more than a raised brow you comply. 

It takes a minute before you begin to realize what the surprise is, when the sweet scent of a cinnamon roll begins to grow closer. It becomes hard to hide your smile almost immediately, but you manage to keep yourself still just long enough – an impressive feat when you hear the clink of a plate against the table. 

“Okay, you can go ahead and look.” 

When you opened your eyes, you glanced up at Myron first, who flushes and looks away quickly from where he sits across from you with his own cinnamon roll. Yours is sat in front of you, steam still billowing off the sweet in plumes. Your grin was impossible to miss, and you knew that you were practically vibrating. 

“When we met you said you’d help out for cinnamon rolls – I'm still paying you – but I thought I could make us a batch to enjoy before work.” 

Your eyes lit up and you looked straight at him once more, “there’s more?” 

“I made a whole dozen just for us,” he assures, opting instead to dig into his own while his face burns red, trying instead to play it off or just ignore it. 

You take a moment, smiling at him and deciding on your next course of action before brushing aside teasing him for a moment. He still needed to have his wits enough to work for the day. “Thank you, Myron, this was really sweet of you.” 

Your sincerity still seems to turn the flush of his cheeks even redder and he only nods, shoving one more bite of his cinnamon roll into his mouth to avoid answering and stumbling over his words. 

The rest of the day goes by rather uneventfully, and it isn’t hard for the pair of you to fall into a a simple flow. With a hiccup here and there, that Myron is quick enough to dispel with little issue, the day is at a close faster than you can even realize. 

You’re in the middle of finishing taking stock of any items left when Myron steps up behind you almost silently. His ability to do so keeps surprising you and when he clears his throat to catch your attention you jump, spinning around on your heel in surprise. 

Myron apologizes, backing up for a moment. “I'm about to close up if you want to head home.” 

“You don’t want help after I finish this up?” 

He shakes his head, sliding the pages of inventory that you had set aside so far. “One of the other shop owners is going to stop by and grab whatever’s left and hand it out to anyone who needs it. I’m just gonna stay here and prep. But you’re going to want to go back home and get some rest, tomorrow this is really gonna pick up.” 

You nod, finishing up what you’re doing before bidding him farewell and heading out so you can once more make your way home. 

But on the way down the sidewalk you stop in your tracks, glancing over at the dim lights of a small bookshop you’ve passed regularly. 

Jess had mentioned it in passing, giving you a little nudge as he spoke, that Myron devoured books like he needed them to breathe. 

Swaying in place for a moment you almost continue your way before the thought gets the better of you and you’re turning right back around, making one small glance to the hours on the door just to ensure that they were open before slipping inside.  

It’s a quiet and rustic little shop, illuminated with dim, antique lamps along the walls and shelves. “One moment,” you hear an elderly woman calling from somewhere you’re unable to see. Only a heartbeat later she appears from around the corner with a warm smile. “How can I help you today?” 

You point your thumb behind you nervously. “I was just passing outside, and I wanted to stop in and see what you guys had in stock.” 

“A little something for yourself or someone else, dear?” 

You could feel the smile on your face before you even spoke. “A gift for someone else. Uh, Myron at the bakery is letting me help out a bit, so I was thinking about getting him something.” You shrug, slightly embarrassed at your admittance. “You know, for the upcoming full moon. I've heard they suck.” 

The older woman before you seems to have a knowing smile as she nods along, and the moment you finish it becomes clear why. “So, you’re the little thing that Jess was telling me about – he said you might stop by.” 

It feels like the tables turn when you can feel the heat rising to your cheeks. 

“Do you know what you’re looking for or need some help?” 

It was then that you realized you had little information about what genre he would even be interested in, or what he did not already own – which was quite the collection from what you understood. “Some help, if you could. Yes, ma’am.” 

“Lucky you, Jess comes here to try and steal my homemade cookies, and that man tends to run his mouth over everything. He gossips more than my teenage grandchildren. Oh, and that sweet boy, Myron, he shops in here so much I already know what he has his eyes on.” She talks while wandering behind the counter. You can hear her shuffling items around before pulling a book and sliding it across for you to see. “It’s the next book in a series he reads, I hid it when I got it in waiting to see if you’d come inside – he likes buying his books in the store too much to order them online.” 

You run your finger along the spine, turning it over to skim over the summary, before you look over to the woman in front of you. She still sports a self-satisfied smile and a knowing look in her eyes. You thank her quietly, tucking the book close to your chest and fishing your form of payment out. Leaving the store in a mad dash, too embarrassed to stick around past your quick thanks. 

It won't be tomorrow that you give it to him, but it does seem like the perfect gift for the day after the full moon to pick his mood up. 

When you arrive at the bakery the next day the sight is almost enough to turn you right back home and go grab it, because Myron looks miserable when you walk through the door. You find him sitting in the dining area, arms crossed and head buried between them. 

Jess is diligently kneading the next batch of bread and glances up at you, only shaking his head before continuing with what he is doing. He himself isn’t looking too hot. 

You knew plenty of werewolves before, but you hadn’t really been close to any of them and as such had never really seen the effects a full moon had on them. It sucks, you don’t have to ask them, it’s clear as day on their face – and tomorrow is apparently supposed to be even worse. 

Slowly you make your way over to where Myron is resting, and he lifts his head to look up at your approach. Despite his lackluster state of being he still gives you a small smile and straightens up to greet you. Giving him a sympathetic smile, you take a seat across from him. “Morning sunshine.” 

He at least seems amused by it. “Morning, ready for your first real day?” 

“Ready as I think I can be.” 

He seems to brighten up just a minute before finally pushing himself to his feet, motioning you to follow. 

It becomes the start of what you can only define as a... tense two days. When you had been warned that most of the town was going to be crabbier than normal you hadn’t realized just what that entailed. Most got angry over the prices being the exact same thing they had always been and tried to bully you into a discount, thinking they could do so since you were little more than a new hire. 

Jess had stepped up to help you for a moment when one patron raised his voice and began to cuss, but you had only asked him to step back before you had turned right back around and ripped into the first werewolf that gave you an issue. Snapping back until you could imagine the man’s tail between his legs, he apologized. It seemed that nobody had expected such a response and even Myron had poked his head out as soon as he had heard the commotion begin. In stunned silence Jess had just nodded his head in approval and gone back to hiding in the back with his nephew. Better to leave you alone for the most part, despite what Myron had initially hoped – wanting to check in on you. But there was no call for concern, you took up the role easy enough and despite the slew of angry customers that tried to get their way, you handled all of them without real issue. 

Almost all of them. 

One woman in particular had stopped you in your tracks. She was pretty, sure, but the way she held up her nose at you and seemed to snap before you even had the chance to greet her had you barely suppressing a glare. “I want Myron to take my order, he always does it.” 

“He’s busy baking, but I would be more than happy to assist you.” it was probably the sweetest you had sounded all day, but it didn’t deter the woman before you. 

“Just go ask him, he’ll do it.” 

The dismissive tone in her voice had you clenching your teeth and narrowing your eyes. “No.” 

The words didn’t seem to register with her for a moment before she turned her full attention to you. “I told you to go get Myron.” 

“And I told you he was busy. I was brought on to assist during the full moon; today at Kornerstone Bakery you order with me or you step out of line and allow the people behind you to have their turn.” 

She seemed surprised for a moment before she laughed, a faux over-sugared laugh that grated your ears the moment it began. “Oh, you just don’t know who I am-” 

“I don’t care who you are,” you had snapped. You knew Myron didn’t have a partner, or sisters, and this woman certainly wasn’t his mother. Jess had told you all as much and let you know that none of their family stopped by the bakery on these days – more than happy to avoid the raging hormones. “Please order or I'm going to need to ask you once more to step out of line.” 

You might only be a human, but you could bet you were putting the werewolves of the town to shame for a moment with how you were growling out the words, tensing as you looked up at the taller woman. You were ready to pounce if push came to shove. 

Too busy staring the woman down – who was returning your look just as fiercely – you failed to register the quieted murmurs spreading through the line behind her. 

Noticing the questionable lull outside, both Jess and Myron stuck their heads out, before Myron just as quickly ducked further out of sight, hoping to go unnoticed. He would have headed all the way back, but the drive to keep an eye on you seemed to win out and he stayed put, barely noticing Jess petting his shoulder as he stepped out. 

“Abigale, always a pleasure to see you.” he offered, walking up next to you. 

She ignored his greeting entirely, skipping right back to her former demand. “I want Myron handling my order.” 

Jess only sighed and shook his head, motioning to you. “Our newest worker is perfectly capable of taking your order. Myron is busy.” 

You hold your tongue, but you can swear that if looks really could kill then woman before you would have dropped by now. 

She seems to coo at him before shaking her head. “I’m not moving and I'm not ordering until he comes to at least say hello like a gentleman.” 

Jess looks uncomfortable with the idea, and from the corner of your eye you can see Myron hiding, seeming to go pale at her words. Before the man before you has a chance to speak you interrupt; against you better judgment, this still isn’t your establishment. But this lady gives even you the creeps, and it’s painfully obvious neither of the men you work for wants to give in to her demands, though Jess looks about to fold just to get rid of her. “Move out of the line or I’m going to remove you myself.” 

That certainly draws everybody’s attention. 

“Excuse you?” 

“Leave.” Your tone holds no chance for argument, and you straighten up, looking her dead in the eyes as you cross your arms. “Myron has work to do, this establishment has money to make and people to serve, and you, ma’am,” you hiss, “are actively hindering those objectives.” If there was one thing that corporate email had at least bothered to teach you it was articulation. “So, once more, leave.” 

“You sure you’re gonna have a job after this little outburst, sweetheart?” 

“I am here because I wanted to be of assistance, this job or the lack of are in no way a determination of my living situation or a hinderance of my income.” You tilt your head down but hold your gaze, leveling her with a look your mother would weep in pride upon seeing. “I don’t know how they do business here normally, but I do not tolerate disrespect like this. And as I am the one taking orders, I am telling you now that your order is not going to be taken at this establishment. Not today. Remove yourself or I will do it for you.” 

You can feel the anxiety now, the way it seems to roll off of everyone else in the store. For a brief second you wonder if maybe you should have cared who she is – and then you recall the way Myron had shrunk back at her demand and any hesitance you might feel is squashed that very second. 

She watches you for a moment, weighing her options and eyes flashing, before she turns on her heels and slams her way back out the front door. 

“Should I actually be worried about that?’ you ask absentmindedly, still not looking up at Jess, you own eyes trained on the fleeting form of a woman you can only describe as having a tantrum in the street. 

“I wouldn’t suggest going outside during a full moon anytime soon at least,” he quips, leaning down next to you. “I probably should have warned you about that one, but we can talk more after shift is over.” 

You shake your head for a moment, tutting before turning to motion the next customer (they step forward carefully, like you’ll jump their throat for it). “Full moons; honestly.” 

You can hear the weary sigh that Jess heaves. “No, that’s just Abigale.” 

The rest of your shift seems to go by without incident, something you’re amazed at because now that it’s your official second day and the bakery was nearing closing everyone seemed to get worse with the dawning of the full moon drawing closer. There were quarrels between patrons, but a quick snap in their direction seemed enough to stop them – at least after someone exchanged a few hushed words with them. 

It was uneasy to say the least. 

Appreciated, in the sense that it made your job far easier, but it remained uneasy all the same. 

Once more, faster than you could realize, the last customer had wandered out the door and the bakery was closed down – earlier than normal given the events of tonight were already beginning to have their effect. 

Jess and Myron stood off to the side speaking in hushed voices while you wiped the counter down, and the moment that the curly haired baker glanced over at you in concern you could feel the pit drop in your stomach. With your little show earlier you well and truly might have just screwed over any chance you had with him, you realized. You stepped back and slouched, sighing in aggravation as quietly as you could with your body facing the tightly shut blinds and locked door. 

“Hey, you good?” 

To your surprise, it was Myron who had approached you – you had halfway been expecting Jess with a quick “sorry, but maybe just stick to being a customer” spiel. Instead, you winced before turning to face the man who had stepped up behind you. 

He still didn’t look the best, but you could certainly notice the way his features were beginning to change. His teeth seemed just a bit sharper, one fang beginning to poke out from his lip, with the hair on his arms becoming more prominent, joined by some new stubble, his ears having slowly become pointed over the hours. Most noticeably, his eyes almost seemed like they were glowing in the dim light of the lobby. 

But maybe it wasn’t the best time to ogle the man that was currently your boss when you very well might be getting fired. Blurting the first words out of your mouth you quickly curse your lack of a filter now that the day is done. “How badly did I fuck up with her?” 

He seemed taken aback by that before shaking his head. “I really did just want to check in with you first, I know today was a lot.” 

You hesitated in answering before leaning with your back against the display case. “It wasn’t anything I couldn’t handle with a few strict words, mostly, but going off what your uncle said earlier I feel like I might have a professional hit out on me now.” 

You could see the way his shoulders sagged. “Yeah, that was Abigale. She doesn’t really come in days near the full moon, much less on it, so I didn’t really think of warning you about her.” 

“So, what’s her deal?” 

He seemed to think for a moment, shifting until he leaned back against the display next to you, though he still kept his distance. “Ex girlfriend, actually.” 

“Jesus, what’d you do, cheat?” 

“No,” he huffed, “but she did. And I dumped her. But her dad is rich as hell and spoiled the life out of her, so she didn’t take me being the one breaking things off well at all.” He shrugged at the memory before closing his eyes and tilting his head back. “She has to be the one to decide when things end. So, she takes every chance she can to get near me, and nobody really stops her.” 

“Because daddy dearest always gets her what she wants? Including a get out of jail free card for any consequences she might face.” You hazard, looking over to him with a sympathetic glance. 

Myron doesn’t answer, but he doesn’t really need to. You know the answer. 

“So, on a scale of 1 to 10, how fired am I for basically telling her to fuck off?” 

This does work, and for the first time since meeting him you actually see him laugh. Really laugh, without trying to hide it. 

“You’re not fired, not even close. But I don’t think we’re opening the bakery tomorrow after all. I’m gonna take the day off before she tries to show up again.” He motions over to Jess, who is not so stealthily watching the pair of you from the office. “His idea, which also means he gets to handle closing.” 

You make a small sound of acknowledgment before furrowing your brows. “Oh.” 

This catches Myron’s attention, and he glances over to you. (Jess is leaning out of his chair to hear you too, but you both ignore the creaking sound.) 

Embarrassed at what you were going to admit you find yourself digging your hands back into your pockets, unable to meet his gaze any longer. “I was gonna bring you a gift tomorrow, but I guess now I have to wait to do that until the next time I visit.” 

Myron stares straight ahead as well, cheeks flushed red once more before he steals a glance and shuffles forwards. “You got me something?” 

He seems utterly amazed at the mere idea, and despite your disappointment at now needing to wait, you still find it endearing. 

“Well, I wanted to get something for my favorite werewolf.” 

“You’ve known me a little over two weeks.” 

“And yet you’re my favorite werewolf.” 

It’s Jess’s voice that breaks through next. “Take a compliment, kid!” 

Myron just shoots him an unimpressed look before glancing back over at you. 

It’s then you decide that the full moon has 1 major benefit – Myron seems a bit slower to run off the moment you fluster him, and you’re enjoying it. So instead, you choose to take advantage of that fact. “Well, maybe you could walk with me back to my place and I can give it to you tonight?” 

This however stops the poor man in his tracks immediately and you swear he almost chokes on air, playing it off as an itch in his throat as he motions that he is fine. He is, in fact, decidedly not fine. 

“Or I can just bring it by in a few days.” you offer, trying to salvage whatever was left of the conversation. You chance a look over to Jess but then man is far too busy laughing silently to himself to be of any use. 

It takes Myron a moment more before he finally manages to respond. “I wouldn’t mind. But I just- I.” he stops, hand at the back of his neck and groans, trying to force out the words he wants. It’s with one deep breath that they finally seems to line them up the way he wants, and starts again, slowly. “But with how late it is, I’d probably change forms soon even if I tried putting it off, so would you mind if I shifted before we started that way?” 

He looks nervous just asking, but it’s like wires clicking in your brain and you know that wolfed out Myron is something you absolutely need to see. As soon as possible. 

Managing to keep your cool (you don’t, but he’s too flustered to notice) you agree, offering to wait outside in the meantime. You don't need to ask to figure that he would likely be just as shy about transforming as he was about most other things, so this offer saves him from even having to ask. You don’t mind waiting for him as is. 

You really don’t mind waiting for him when you finally hear the click of the door and watch as a large wolf shimmies out and into the back lot, before standing to his full height. 

Myron is attractive enough in his human form. But his wolf form is downright stunning, and you’re certain it’s something you want the chance to see more of in the future. The base of his coat is a fluffy, soft cream or off white, dappled with light brown marks scattered across his body, faint enough they’re hard to see at first - you can only guess it’s how his freckles translate over. But what draws your eyes is the pale oranges that decorate his fur, blending seamlessly with the cream color; they adorn his snout, and his ears where they sit the brightest, they stretch from the top of his head all the way to his tail which you see swishing. The way his amber eyes really do look as though they’re glowing now. 

It's the swishing movement that finally breaks your trance and you feel a little flustered at being caught blatantly looking him over. You know you have because even in this form he is just as easy to read. Instead trying to break the tension you blurt the first thing that comes to your mind once more: “you’re like a lightly toasted marshmallow.” You snap your mouth shut with an audible clack of teeth on teeth the moment the words are past your lips and close your eyes, grimacing. But to your surprise you hear a deep rumble from Myron, the closest that he can get to laughing in this form – incapable of speech or exceedingly human sounds. 

Instead, he hunches down closer to your form before nodding for you to lead the way. 

You do so and start off on the already familiar path. Myron does his best to slow down so you can keep up with him, easily looming over you in this form, and it leaves you hurrying after him regardless. It isn’t an issue that really phases you, the extra time is worth the minor hiccup. You're so busy regaling him with one too many embarrassing stories to pay much attention to it anyways. But you do still notice the way that his eyes seem to wander over in the direction of the bookstore you had visited only a day prior. You can see the old woman behind the counter and when she catches sight of the two of you she gives you both a knowing look, returning to her own end of day tasks. 

You both hurry off after that instead of broaching the subject. But you can’t help the smile on your lips knowing what gift you have waiting for him. 

Thankfully the distance between the bookstore and your own humble rental isn’t a far one and you’re giddy the moment you see your home. The energy must be infectious, because Myron seems to lighten up, tail starting to pick of speed and ears perked as he watches you bound forward. Your door isn’t exactly made for a full-blown werewolf to waltz in through, so you tell him to wait for just a moment before you bound inside, heading straight for your room as you toss you bag to the side haphazardly. 

Grabbing the book off your nightstand and returning outside you find Myron sitting dutifully on your porch, head cocked to the side as he studies you and tries to catch an early glimpse of whatever you’re hiding behind your back. Instead, you step back, mischief written all over your face. “Close your eyes,” you mimic from days ago. He snorts but does as you ask, going so far as to cover his eyes with his hands. 

You take the brief moment to admire him once more before bringing the book in front of you both. “Okay, you can open your eyes now.” 

It takes him just a minute to register what he’s looking at, but you can practically hear the moment all the gears click into place. Physically it’s obvious. His eyes go wide, and he excitedly snatches the book away, trying to be as careful as he can while he thumbs through the pages. But the most obvious sign is his tail, going a hundred miles a minute and thumping repeatedly against the potted plant next to him. 

You’re almost concerned about him pushing it off. Before you can decide if you want to move it you’re shocked back with the feeling of something soft and cold pressed right to your cheek. It takes a moment before you realize Myron has shoved his cold snout right against you, nose first before all you feel is soft warm fur where he remains. 

You doubt he even notices, a slew of happy noises reverberating from him. You can barely see the book clutched tight against his chest and his tail still going just as fast. 

What he does notice however is you setting a hand against the crook of his jaw, burying your fingers into his fur. 

He rips back that moment, ears pinned, and you don’t need to guess how embarrassed he must feel, so you shift the subject back to the book. You had already been warned by Jess that touch was a rarity to receive from Myron, too painfully shy to ever initiate or indulge in it. 

“Hopefully you don’t already have that one, but I wanted to get you a gift.” 

And you hear it again immediately, the rhythmic thumping of his tail and he looks down at the book in his grasp before shaking his head, gaze soft. 

The sun is starting to go down and you know he’ll need to head back soon. You have a date planned with your bathtub after the day you’ve had. But it’s bittersweet to suggest he head out. So you don’t, not directly. 

“Do you want me to grab you a bag? So you can carry it back to your place.” 

He nods once before his gaze begins trailing excitedly over the cover once again. 

Leaving him enthralled with his newest edition you slip inside and grab a bag and a piece of loose string, before stepping outside once more. You motion for the book, which he reluctantly lets go of, and you tie the twine around it to keep it shut before slipping it inside the bag and handing it over. 

To your surprise, Myron sticks his head out and gingerly takes the handles of the bag between his teeth, shooting you one more grateful look before lumbering down into your yard. It’s a quick look back over his shoulder, his tail still wagging like a whirlwind, before he gives a low guttural howl and takes off back in the direction of town on all fours – leaving you laughing and calling out that you’ll see him soon as he vanishes. 

[belit0]

Hello! So I just read the request of how many kids rhe uchiha would have and I saw that Izuna was someone who would rather be an uncle than a father.

What if Izuna became a father?

U don't have to but I was just wondering what you might come up with lolol

Could ramble about this all day sooooooooooooo:

-He doesn't consider himself emotionally capable of taking care of something as complex as this. Izuna loves to jump from bed to bed without any gender discrimination, unable to tie himself to anyone or settle down, enjoying his sexuality without restraint.

- If it happens, it's because his breeding kink got a little out of hand, and he ignored condom use because he got too caught up in the moment (dangerous, don't do it!).

- When he hears the news, he is totally paralyzed. He spends a full hour with his eyes unfocused and staring at the same spot on the wall, trapped inside his own head and seeing no reason.

- The next step is for the world to come crashing down on him, and he is consumed by panic. He considers running away, disappearing, but quickly gives up the idea because he is not a coward. He contemplates telling his brother, and musters up the strength to be congratulated as if the pregnancy was wanted.

- Madara has been urging him to settle down and think about starting a family (hypocritical as he himself does not even consider the idea of creating an heir), so he will be happy to hear it. When the initial terror wears off (after about three days), he consults with him.

- His Aniki supports him completely, and it is he who invites the future mother of his child to live with them. Izuna cannot look her in the face, and it takes him about two weeks to gather the courage to face her.

- He and the mother of his child begin to get along and beyond the initial attraction that led them to get into bed together, they discover how much they have in common. They strike up a cordial relationship that soon transforms into something more, transmuting little by little.

- When her belly starts to show, he panics again.

- Izuna spends countless nights in his older brother's room despairing of what is coming, terrified of having to deal with it, seeking comfort as if he were a small child again. He doesn't feel ready, doesn't think he's capable, and is afraid of being a terrible parent.

- Eventually, he gets used to it again, but his heart races when he puts his hands on her belly and feels the baby kick.

- He goes through those 9 months full of doubt and anxiety, dread of what's to come and desperation to turn back the clock. He regrets his decisions every night, but those feelings subside when he finally sees his baby in person.

- A gorgeous girl who inherited all of his beauty and his wonderful eyes, hair as black as night just like her father. Holding her for the first time gives him the feeling of finding stability in the world, and he will never allow anyone to hurt her.

- It is Izuna who takes care of her during all the first nights to help her mother sleep, and he often finds himself sitting in the courtyard with his baby in arms while lullabaying her under the moonlight, helping her to slumber again. He does not remember any songs from his childhood because he did not grow up in a home that welcomed lullabies, so he invents his own lyrics.

- “Go to sleep baby, go to sleep now, or the damn Senju will eat you up…!”

- He teaches her to fight and battle when she is old enough, just as Tajima and Madara taught him, doing everything he can to ensure his little girl can defend herself against the world at all times and in all places. He protects her from wars and actual combat.

- When she reaches adolescence, he asks his older brother to train her, unable to be hard on his girl. Uncle takes it upon himself to forge her into a sword, honing all her senses and giving rise to one of the best Shinobi of her generation (along with her cousins).

- He would never have expected the journey of fatherhood to end that way, so positive and wonderful, such a beautiful creation, and when his little girl is grown up, it even makes him want to have another one just to go through the same thing again.

[strawberry-lemonade-kisses]

Note - This is NOT Muichiro X reader, Muichiro sees the reader as a mother figure. Part of the Himejima found family AU

Late nights are when you found the most peace, living with three people who were still regaining their strength from a battle that left them permanently scarred and changed forever had you working around the clock, taking care of everyone but yourself. So when the sun went down and your family went to bed with it you stayed up, taking a few hours to yourself. Tonight was the last night you would have to yourself for a week. The remaining 3 hashira had decided to bring themselves and their family to your home for a week, having a family vacation in your home. It was special tonight, an extra night of pampering before endless work hosting guests and taking care of your family. After an extended amount of time relaxing in the hot springs a little ways away from your estate, you decided to relax in the back gardens. It was a clear night the stars were so bright, adding an ample amount of light to the garden you worked tirelessly on before the fight. Frogs croaked an old tune, one that had consistently lured you into the most peaceful sleep, but tonight it was a song that kept you awake, humming along to the tune. “Mom?” A smaller voice cut through the song, interrupting the melody and throwing you off track. “what are you doing?” Muichiro stepped out of the house, his kimono dragging behind him.

“I’m watching the stars sweetheart, come lay down” You scooted over on the quilt you were resting on. Allowing Muichiro to lay beside you. “what are you doing awake? You are always asleep by now. Are you in pain? Do you want me to make you something to eat? Tea?” You were getting up from the ground when Muichiro made a noise of disapproval, asking you to sit back down. “I just couldn’t sleep, no big deal. I’ve been thinking a lot” he lay on his back, looking at the stars. “Did I ever tell you about my brother? He reminds me of Sanemi sometimes. He was angry and rough on the outside, but he had good reason to be the way he was. He was trying to protect me, wanted to keep me safe. When we lost our parents he was angry at the world for betraying us as it had, but we still had each other.” You smiled at the boy. “You’ve had a very hard life, Mui. Your family did their best for you and each other. The world is a cruel place to the best of us. But you are here now, you’ve made it. Your family's sacrifices weren't for nothing.” The younger boy turned to you. “I’ve been thinking a lot. About what to do now. My father was a woodcutter but I couldn’t do that now, what can I do?” “Mui you can do anything you want now. Get proper sleep, and eat full meals. You don’t have to fight anymore, you can rest now. Be a regular 14-year-old boy. What do you want to do? Not what you think you should do. What do you want?” He sat quietly, contemplating what he truly wanted. He gave up after a few seconds shrugging. “well you got time to figure it out, for now just relax. Everyone is visiting tomorrow including Tanjiro and them for a party and then the Uzui’s, Sanemi, and Giyuu are staying for the rest of the week so just try to enjoy yourself. Also, I was told Kotetsu is coming in a few weeks once things settle down with the moves and everything. Now that they are out of work they’ve been moving out of the mountains and towards Tokyo I guess. It'll be interesting to hear about that. Maybe then they can finally work on Hotaru’s social skills. Find him a nice wife to ease him out” Muichiro giggled at the thought. He had carefully retold the story of Hotaru’s blind date failure. From what he had been told it was going well until the woman had spoken about the fact that swords and swordsmen were unneeded in today's society. Which Hotaru took very personally and subsequently ended the date right there. It was understandable but he threw a fit for days following the date and had worried the village chief.

“Yeah, hopefully, they all can live peacefully now” You nodded, settling further into the quilt as your eyes perused the endless stars in the sky. “Hey Mom” you hummed, turning towards him. “do you think it’s going to be okay now? That everyone will know it's safe?” “Well, I’m not sure. I figure it’ll take some time before everyone knows they don’t have to worry anymore about the demons. Eventually, I think there will be a time when people completely forget demons were a thing and it’s all thanks to you guys. You did this. I’m very proud of you, all of you. I’m so grateful I got all of you back home, I feel spoiled like a light was shined on upon me for being able to wake up with all of you in the house, alive and well.” Muichiro looked away, a watery chuckle coming from him. “Thanks, Mom” He shook his head, moving to get up “I’m going to actually sleep now. Goodnight Mom” he paused after a few steps towards the house, turning around to where you sat watching him leave. “I love you, thank you for everything” With a soft smile the boy turned back towards the house, disappearing into the darkness of the hallways.

[married-2-the-music]

K-pop Discography Deep Dives: BTS (Part TWO)

A Disclaimer: I was planning, when I first started Tumblr, to be a lurker, but then I began an office job and needed something to listen to to keep myself occupied. And then, I started going through entire K-pop groups’ repertoires, album by album, and jotting down my thoughts. And then, I stumbled into K-pop tumblr and decided, you know what, there’s at least four people on this hell site who would read in depth rants about these discographies and at least five who wouldn’t read it and then get mad because it’s kind of our job as K-pop fans. My lukewarm takes should be taken with an entire silo of salt and the knowledge that this is completely for fun and occupying my very bored, very neurodivergent brain. All this to say, for the love of god, I’m a sleep-deprived student and I don’t have time for internet hate, so don’t kill me. With that being said, enjoy!

So, my credentials: I’ve got nothing this time, folks. I’m not an Army; I’m too casual to even be a casual fan. I like most of what I’ve heard, based on friend recommendations, but I have no idea how representative of their work the songs I’ve heard are. I know the group members’ names, but barely anything about them, although I’m always open to learning more. The reason I wanted to do this deep dive is because I’ve been a k-pop fan for almost five years now and I’ve heard every opinion between “BTS is the second coming of Christ” and “BTS is responsible for the collapse of society,” and I want to make up my own mind, free of influence.

Since BTS has over 200 songs, I’m also doing short supplementals each week, both to give myself and you guys a break and to look at groups / soloists with discographies too short to need a full week (because this is gonna be a dissertation and I’ll have to separate it into two parts). So, grab your lightstick, get some ice cream, steal a fluffy dog, and settle in folks. Let’s do this.

We left off just before You Never Walk Alone, and Blood, Sweat, and Tears. I was surprised on first listen of this one, because I don’t quite know how to classify it; it’s too calm to be one of their more bombastic songs and too loud to be one of their calmer ones. I’m just not sure what to say about it, to be honest. I don’t hate it but I don’t like it either. I like the instrumental and the elegance of some of its quieter moments but as I’ve stated ad nauseum, empty, chanty choruses are one of my song pet peeves, and I just can’t get into a song with it.

So then, we have Spring Day. I also don’t know what to say about this one, for the complete opposite reason. It’s the other one of BTS’ songs in my Top 25 K-pop songs, and I admit it; I find it almost impossible to be objective when I go “aww” the second I hear the opening notes. It’s melancholy and contemplative, wistful and pained, hopeful and tragic. The lyrics are honestly beautiful and such a raw expression of grief that it’s the kind of song you need to sit with for a minute before moving on.

I, like most people, have someone I love deeply that this song reminds me of, and it always makes me appreciate life just a little more every time I give it a listen. It’s perfect, but you don’t need me to tell you that. Go take a deep breath and watch the music video for yourself.

Not Today’s opening is…not for me, and feels especially harsh after the beauty that is Spring Day. I do really enjoy the pre-chorus, although I admit that I appreciate more than like the song as a whole. But, it has so much energy and drive it’s hard not to be pulled along for the ride. For the album as a whole, I really enjoyed seeing the variety in all of the solos, and although the one I liked the best was Stigma, I enjoyed the cinematic opening and the odd vocalizing of Lie and the slightly jazzy vibe of Mama too.

I’ve mentioned that I liked Taehyung’s voice before, but I really loved it in Stigma. He goes between whispering and half-wailing so well, and his voice carries so much emotion that I found myself swept up in it too. And of course, as a queer woman myself, the plaintive apologies and constant reference to “sins” make me wince in sympathy, although I have no idea if that’s the intended meaning.

On to an odyssey of a repackage album in Love Yourself: Answer, starting with Euphoria. At first, I was worried that the chorus would be empty, but the post-chorus assuaged my worries. I like the instrumental, especially the mix of the gentle guitar and the electronic twinkling (I don’t know how else to word it). The song’s overall not my favorite of theirs but a nice breather, upbeat and wispy, and the music video definitely made me smile, so props to them!

DNA continues the wispy, upbeat guitar trend, with whistling thrown in for good measure and making a nice contrast. I love the sprawling quality of the chorus, although I wish that the slight post-chorus at the end of the song continued through the rest of it, as I think it would make it live up more to the greatness that is the pre-chorus, which I don’t quite think it does. Although, I’m aware that that’s more personal preference than anything else. I think this one is my favorite single from the album.

Idol has an interesting beat and a good message. I’m sure it’d be a great song to run or dance to, and I do understand why people like it. I found myself tapping my head during the post-chorus, which I did enjoy. It’s just not for me, with its constant rapping and such a chanty chorus. Something about it just doesn’t feel like it works, although I could see it growing on me if I gave it more listens.

Mic Drop is even more not for me, to no one’s surprise. Unlike with Idol, where I could appreciate but not like it, I didn’t enjoy any part of this one and I found it grating on my ears. Again, I acknowledge that this is due to personal pet peeves more than anything, but it bears repeating that even if I can note the talent in something, that doesn’t mean I have to like it.

Overall though, I quite liked this album. The trilogy (if you will) of Serendipity (I love the guitar), Singularity (Taehyung’s vocal control is impressive), and Epiphany (I’ll talk more about it in a minute) is lovely, down to the names themselves. I also enjoyed Answer: Love Myself and although the song itself isn’t my style, I appreciated the unique lyrics of Anpanman.

Epiphany is definitely my favorite, though. It starts with a soft piano and strings, then slowly builds to become a quietly powerful song about the strength that it takes to wake up every morning and keep going, even when it seems impossible. It’s a topic that is near and dear to my heart, and I don’t think enough songs address it. I love how something about it feels cyclical, just like its meaning, and Jin’s voice communicates it so honestly that I completely understand why so many people have connected to this song.

Black Swan starts with a unique harp (?) that gives a sharp contrast to the more hard-hitting beat and electronic production layered over it. I want to like it more than I actually do, because there are so many interesting ideas in it but none of them are given time to breathe or developed enough to make the song stand out. I don’t really have an opinion in a way, because it doesn’t feel quite finished to me.

Boy With Luv surprised me with how much I actually liked it. Halsey’s voice works very well in it (though, as a fan of hers, I wish she had a little more to do) and it was a little toothless compared to other singles of theirs (and hers, for that matter), but I loved the pre-chorus. Overall, it’s fun! It’s not ending up on my Top 10 Lists but I didn’t skip it nor did I want to.

ON has a great build up and finally is one of their more EDM songs with a good payoff after it, moving like a marching band with the background drums. I quite liked this one; it marries their more ethereal and electronic style and their more harsh and dark style together in what turns out to be a great combo. I especially enjoyed the bridge and the pre-chorus, proof that I can enjoy chanting if it comes in concert with other things too.

On Map Of The Soul: 7, I liked most of the songs, including Filter, 00:00, Moon, Louder Than Bombs (especially the “louder than bombs, I sing”), and Inner Child. But, my favorite was Friends. If you’re a fan of them, you might think I’ve been harsh in my reviews, but I want to say that’s mostly because when I know what groups are capable of and they don’t strive for it, it feels like a missed opportunity. Like NCT Dream, I think that BTS’ best songs are when they let the cool facade fade away and sing (and write) from the heart, which is exactly what Friends is.

Look, I’m a sap. It’s a gently anthemic, almost sickeningly sweet song about Taehyung and Jimin’s friendship that doesn’t just wear its heart on its sleeve, but screams about it from the balcony. Of course I replayed it three times and kept going “awww” every ten seconds. I was doing work at my desk and once it got to the “you are my soulmate” part, I suddenly got the urge to text my own soulmate friend and tell her how much I love her. Which I did.

Life Goes On is understated and feels a bit more like a b-side, but it’s honestly so sweet that I like this one too. It feels like a warm hug, and I don't even mind the rap, because it’s miles ahead of the ones in calm songs from the beginning. I already knew this song too, but in context with the rest of their discography, I enjoyed it more. Having spent this review and the last going through Everests of albums, BE is almost scarily short. That being said, I did enjoy the guitar in Dis-ease, and I especially appreciated the throwback to the skits of the first few albums in Skit, a good return to form.

Alright. Enough of the hearts and flowers, I have a confession to make. I hate Dynamite. I know that I don’t have any actually valid reasons for this, because I know it’s a good song. But, as I said in the disclaimer, I’ve been a k-pop fan for almost five years now and since the time this song came out, it’s become people’s reference point for BTS, which is already wrong, and then it becomes their reference point for k-pop, which never fails to get under my skin.

It’s not BTS’ fault that so many English-speaking people see a song specifically designed to appeal to an English speaking market, and then refuse to do any effort to look beyond it, but it drives me insane nonetheless. I’m sure that if it wasn’t to that level of fame that I’d feel the same way about it that I do about Boy With Luv. My thoughts are the same for Dynamite, Butter, and Permission To Dance, so I’ll spare you the repetition.

I’m going to end not with my irrational hatred of Dynamite but with a note that I really enjoyed the song they released with their Best Of album, “Yet To Come,” although I don’t think it was a single. I won’t go into too much detail but I did think that it was very sweet and a good thing to end on.

So, overall thoughts: I’m very glad I did this. I’m glad that I took the time to make up my own mind and recognize that I was doing what I just called out all the people who assume that Dynamite is every k-pop song ever, and assuming that I wouldn’t enjoy this deep dive. I’m extremely happy to say that they proved me wrong. I can’t call myself a fan, exactly, but I can say that I respect their talents (and their humor) much more than I did before this. I always watch an interview when I’m typing up this last part, and I might even watch more than one this time. We’ll see.

My top 5 songs are, to no one’s surprise, Spring Day, Friends, Butterfly, Epiphany, and Life Goes On, with a special shout out to Paldongangsan and War Of Hormone. BTS gets a 8.5/10 from me, the same as (G)I-DLE and NCT Dream, which I definitely didn’t see coming. I enjoyed the greater part of their discography, and of the songs I didn’t like, it was usually personal preference or bias and not any fault of the songs themselves. Once we get to 9/10 and beyond, it gets firmly into the land of what are my own absolute favorite groups (like, say, Gfriend), so I can’t really rate them any higher.

I’ll see you very soon for a quick girl group supplemental and next week for a longer girl group! Tschüss!

[deandoesthingstome]

I’ve said thank you before but imma say it again:

I am having the hottest hot girl summer soundtrack bc of you introducing me to Cannons.

And I also hope you are having the best summer and not working too hard 💕

Cait!!!

You have said it before and I'm so happy it's still true.

Know what's hard? Knowing that I want to put that Cannons song on every fic playlist I make.

Yeah, life's still a little hectic. I finished YTT May 21st and I'm still trying to decide what, if anything, I want to do with all that knowledge I paid for. Lol.

Work has settled back into a steady pattern of "never know what to expect." My stomach isn't doing flip-flops everyday while I reconsider if I made the right choice, so that's a plus!

AND (not that you asked, but I'm gonna spill anyway), I have made some decent progress on Ch 5 of Walk with Me and I'm hoping to publish it next week! Yahoo!!!

(For those of you new to the story, that means you still have time to catch up before shit goes down!)

And yeah, I've probably listened to this song a million times while contemplating the next moves of Frankie, Sy, and August. (We'll see what Spotify says about it later this year, right?)

[judeswhore]

truth or shot - marcus rashford

in which you get snowed into your best friends flat and after a couple shots of vodka and a round of truth one of you finally confesses your feelings

prompt: “i think we’re snowed in”

"I think we're snowed in. There's no way you're driving in that." Marcus' voice was final and held no room for any real argument as the both of you stared out of the window of his flat, snow falling in sheets of white, wind billowing so hard you were afraid the windows would fall in. The storm had hit unexpectedly, you'd thought you had at least another hour or so until it reached its peak, giving you enough time to get home but that hadn't been the case and now you were staring down a wall of complete white flakes.

"I have work in the morning." You complained, lips turning into a slight pout as you threw yourself down on the sofa, feet dangling over the edge. Despite the lights from the Christmas tree and the TV, the room was still relatively dim and it got even darker when Marcus pulled the curtains closed and sent you a pointed look.

"I highly doubt the school will even be open. Have you seen how much snow we're meant to get?" Of course you had, it was all everyone had been talking about for days. The impending storm that was meant to leave feet of snow it's wake, you just hadn't really believed it was going to happen but given the way it was raging outside right now it seemed plausible. "You'll be lucky if you go back to work at all this week."

He settled at your feet and pulled your shoes off, dropping them to the floor as you watched him, his eyebrows raising when he caught sight of your socks. He playfully prodded the bottom of your foot until you shifted away from him, a soft giggle bubbling from your chest. "Why are you wearing Man U socks?"

"They were at the top of my drawer and they're comfy, do you know how warm these are?" You pushed yourself up off the sofa, socked feet padding softly against the laminated flooring as you made your way over to the kitchen, lips pouted in contemplation. Marcus watched you carefully, trailing behind you, gaze locked on the way you searched his his cupboards.

"What are you doing?"

"Where's all my vodka?" Marcus frowned, leaning back against the kitchen island, hands against the edge and you had a struggle averting your gaze when you glanced at the veins in his exposed arms. Marcus was undeniably attractive and as much as you hated to admit it about your best friend, there were times when you wanted nothing more than to forget you were just friends and beg him to have his way with you. It was a constant fight between giving into your inner urges and possibly having the best night of your life and potentially ruining your ten year friendship because Marcus didn't want you like that.

"Your vodka? I'm sure I bought it."

"Yeah but I usually drink it. Where?"

"Fridge, in the door. Why do you want vodka?" After pulling the bottle from the fridge, fingers clasped around the neck you threw Marcus a grin and wiggled your eyebrows.

"Drinking games, duh. If I'm stuck here all night I wanna at least make it interesting." At his look of uncertainty you sent him your best puppy dog eyes, lips pouting as you stopped directly in front of him. You skimmed your fingers over his and watched the way he swallowed thickly, throat bobbing ever so slightly. "C'mon, you won't be training tomorrow and it's been forever since we got drunk together. I promise I'll try not to throw up in your shoes this time."

He let out a breath and swiped the bottle from you, nudging you out of the way with his hip. "If you do you're paying for a new pair." Which is how you found yourself tipsy and half naked on Marcus' living room floor, Christmas songs ringing in the background and an almost empty bottle of vodka set between you.

Marcus was equally as unclothed, wearing only his boxers and one sock and the sight alone made it difficult to keep your giggles at bay. He kept shuffling awkwardly, subtly adjusting his underwear and trying in vain to keep his eyes locked on yours, heat flooding his face whenever he glanced down and let his gaze linger on your lacy bra. His dirty thoughts were running riot and in his slightly inebriated state he was afraid he was going to spill something he shouldn't. Like the fact he's been in love with you for years and right now all he could think about was what was underneath the extremely thin material you were wearing.

You'd been playing forehead detective, one of you writing a persons name on a post it and sticking it to the others head, giving them clues until they guessed right. For every wrong guess once the allotted time was over you took a shot and had to remove a piece of clothing. Neither of you had done very well, the alcohol in your system muddling thoughts and names until Marcus tried guessing that OJ Simpson was married to Marge Simpson. It was a mess all in all but the slight smirk that started tugging the side of your mouth made Marcus a little wary.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" You shuffled a little on the carpet, spinning the bottle cap on the tip of your finger, eyes darting down to his exposed thighs. You wet your lips before glancing back up at him, ignoring the buzzing thoughts about how strong those thighs looked and all the sinful things you wanted to do involving them.

"I'm bored of this game, I wanna play Truth or Shot." Marcus cocked his head, leaning back a little against the front of the sofa, his eyes roaming your face.

"Truth or Shot?"

"You ask a question, the other either answers it or takes a shot if they don't want to."

"How drunk are you trying to get me?"

"Drunk enough that I can dress you up in that Santa costume I bought you last year, I'm still waiting to see it." Marcus shook his head and grimaced at the thought of the present you'd gifted him the previous Christmas.

"That suit is never coming out. I'll take it to my grave if I have to." He took the bottle from near your leg and poured two shots, sliding one across the floor to you as you moved a little closer to him. "What are the rules?"

"No rules other than you drink if you don't answer."

"So I can ask you whatever I want?"

"Yes but I don't have to answer." He gave a soft hum at that, hand rubbing against his jaw as he thought about starting off with an easy question or at least one you wouldn't avoid before he got to the real stuff. His lips tilted into a smirk. "Do you fancy Jesse?"

This made you laugh, eyes crinkling at the sides as you gave a slight shake of your head. You'd expected him to dive straight into dirty secrets, not to ask if you had a crush on his best mate and you were only slightly disappointed that he hadn't asked something a bit more daring. If he thought you were going to start off easy he was sorely mistaken.

"No," He opened his mouth to argue because he'd seen the flirty messages the two of you exchanged, he remembered distinctly telling Jesse immediately that you were off limits. You held your finger up to get him to stop. "I used to have a teeny tiny crush on him when you first introduced us but not anymore."

"You know you're not allowed to lie in this game?"

"I'm not lying! Don't worry, if I wanted to get with any of your friends I'd let you know, I'd need all the intel." Marcus pulled a face, gaze lowered to his shot and then he suddenly drank from it, reaching back for the bottle to re pour.

"I'd appreciate if you just didn't date any of my friends." He mumbled, thumb swiping over his bottom lip and you noticed the odd set to his shoulders and the way his eyes had darkened ever so slightly.

"You're not allowed to just randomly drink your shots, Rashy, you have to save them." You tilted your head at him. "Why can't I date your friends? Some of them are pretty hot." You watched his eyes narrow, finger swirling around the opening of the bottle.

"Is that your question?"

"Yes. Do you have a problem with me dating your friends?" You wanted him to say yes but not for him to say because it was to protect you. You wanted him to say yes and admit that your feelings for him weren't one sided, that he felt the undeniable tension and from the way he kept looking at your boobs you had a very strong feeling that he did.

"Yes." His answer was quick, no hesitation involved and it made your heart rate spike slightly. You shuffled closer until your knees bumped against his, his eyes darting down to where your bare skin met.

"Why?"

"I don't think it's your turn to ask a question is it, darling?" The term of endearment rolled so easily off his tongue and your breath hitched in your throat at the cocky tone he'd suddenly adopted, the look on his face equally as egotistical. Marcus cleared his throat and leant forward a little, eyes dark on yours. "Did you specifically choose strip forehead detective to tease me with that little number you're wearing?"

His gaze slid once again to your chest and you looked down too, adamant to hide your smirk because maybe that had been part of your reasoning. You glanced back up and raised one eyebrow.

"I wasn't aware I was teasing you."

"That's not really an answer."

"Fine, no, I didn't." Marcus knew you well enough to know that was bullshit and he matched your raised eyebrow.

"Are you lying?"

"Maybe. But that wasn't your chance for another question. You stole my turn." You nudged his leg and he just rolled his eyes, nodding for you to get on with it. "Why don't you want me dating your friends?"

He watched you closely for a few seconds, gaze darting between your eyes and your lips and he tried his hardest not to look any lower than that. He was weighing up his options, he could either tell you out right how he felt or he could wait and needle answers out of you to see if you felt the same. He let out a little sigh.

“Why do you think?”

“You can’t answer a question with a question that’s not how it works.” Marcus narrowed his eyes at you.

“You said there were no rules.”

“These aren’t rules, they’re just basic know how. You need to answer properly or drink.” You locked your eyes on his, skin prickling slightly with the way he was looking at you and you wanted him so desperately to tell you he felt something for you. Anything at all. He could tell you he simply just wanted you for sex and you’d fall at his feet, any part of Marcus he was willing to give you’d happily take. Anything that wasn’t just friends.

“I just hate the thought of you with my friends.” His answer was slow, voice quiet and you barely heard him over the wails of Slade playing from his speakers. He dropped his gaze from yours and instead let it linger on the bottle. “I hate the thought of you with anyone actually.” Your heart gave a little thump and his eyes darkened significantly when he looked back up at you.

“Why?”

“I think it’s my turn to ask a question.” He leant forward a little, hands planted on the floor on either side of your legs and stopped just centimetres away. “If I asked you to kiss me right now what would you say?” Tension was thick in the air, years worth of hiding how you felt about each other crackling around you and when you let your eyes drop to Marcus’ lips you realised there was no way you were leaving his home until you kissed him.

“Yes.” Your tongue darted out to wet your lips and Marcus couldn’t tear his attention away, his pulse ticking rapidly as he tried to calm himself down, thoughts flying around in his head. He tried not to think about the fact you might only want to kiss him because you’re slightly tipsy and it would make the evening more interesting and instead just focused on the fact you wanted to kiss him in any capacity. You leant ever so slightly closer to him and brushed your fingers over his arm. “I don’t wanna play this game anymore.”

Your breath hit his lips and his tummy flipped, body heating up as he moved even closer, his lips now ghosting yours as he spoke. You were breathing in every breath he let out and the air seemed to buzz with energy, the song fading out into the distance because all he saw was you. You were all that mattered in that moment.

“Why not?” The slightest brush of his lips against yours had your breath hitching and your eyelashes fluttered when he brought his hand up and trailed his fingers across your jaw. You closed your eyes and leant into his touch.

“Because I want you to kiss me now.” The words had barely left your mouth and he was slanting his lips over yours, his hand sliding into your hair. He made a noise low in the back of his throat, hand tilting your head further back as you got lost in his kiss. No matter how many times you’d thought about kissing him, nothing would ever live up to how it really felt. His lips were soft and warm and your head spun when he gently licked your bottom lip, your hands sliding over his arms and across his shoulders.

The kiss wasn’t long enough, you never wanted him to stop brushing his lips over yours, you never wanted to forget the taste of his tongue but he was pulling away and leaving a line of kisses over your flushed pink cheek. He gently stroked your cheek with his thumb and your entire body felt tingly just from that one motion, your blood pounding in your ears as you tried to get your tummy to stop flipping. Marcus was already watching you when you opened your eyes again, slightly out of breath and each one he let out was warm over your lips and made you want to pull him back in.

“Why did it take you so long to say that?”

[v-hope]

One Way Ticket

Pairing: Kim Taehyung x Reader (ft. Yeontan bc Family)

Genre: Flufffff, established relationship, long distance relationship (not for long), and like, slight angst at the beginning if you squint your eyes and do a backflip

Word Count: 4k

Summary: Long distance relationships are never an easy thing, and although you and Taehyung had managed to make it work for four years and were used to not seeing each other that much already, he couldn’t help but feel like his birthday was ruined at the news of you being stuck at the airport due to a bad weather flight delay. However, although things didn’t quite go to plan, it only took for you to arrive two hours before the day was over for it to be his happiest of birthdays so far.

A/N: Hellooo, well, obviously this is for my man’s birthday 🥳💝 This story takes place in my Red Flags series’ timeline since one of you requested it and I thought it would be really cute, but you don’t need to have read it to understand what’s going on here. I hope you guys enjoy! please let me know your thoughts~

“You were supposed to be here today” Taehyung reminded you, unconsciously tightening his hold on the phone as his low voice did a good job at letting you know just how upset he was.

You sighed, that alone letting him know you weren’t having a good time with said fact that was just not happening anymore either. “I can’t control the weather, love…”

Now, he knew that. Of course he knew that. But right then, he really fucking wished you did control the weather. That way you wouldn’t be stuck in another continent still due to a snowstorm that had delayed, if not cancelled, all flights that week — a stupid snowstorm that was keeping you away from him for longer than you should have.

It was a joke. It had got to be a joke.

That was what Taehyung kept telling himself throughout the whole phone call, and continuing to believe —to wanting to believe— so even after you hung up.

You were supposed to arrive that night. That had been the plan all along. All his schedule he had rearranged so he could make sure that particular night he would spend with you. Just you and him. Since the very next day, also known as his birthday, he would have to go to rehearsal for BTS’ presentation on the 31th like every other year, he was looking forward the most to this night. He had it all planned out. Your flight would arrive at 8pm, he would pick you up and then the two of you would have dinner together back at your —now— shared place. You would wait up until midnight, have some cake afterwards, and then stay up late so you could, well, catch up on a few coupley things you had been missing out on for a good while now. After all, you had not seen each other in nearly five months.

It was funny, how he used to always say he would never be able to do long distance relationships when he was younger, yet here he was now, four years —and going strong— into one. It was hard as hell, he could not deny it, but he wouldn’t have had it any other way, not as long as he got to be with you in the end. And at the end of the day it was all worth it, for you had finally graduated uni back home, managed to find a job in Seoul, and were now moving in with him like the two of you had agreed on a long time ago, once you realised you were most definitely sticking together for as long as your lives allowed you to. So, even if he had to wait a little longer to see you, this time it was different, for you had only gotten a one way ticket, and he would never again have to drop you off at the airport and cling on to you like his life depended on it, somehow being harder for him to let go of you as the years went by.

Nevertheless, it sucked. Right then, it really fucking sucked. Five months had gone by without seeing you already and turns out he would now have to wait one or even two more days than planned? Bullshit. And that if he was being optimistic, because he swore to God he would lose his shit if you had to spend New Years Eve on a plane, alone. Not like you were spending it together to begin with either, since he had that thing to attend to, but you would at least have a good time with some of the friends you had made during the time you had stayed in Seoul for your uni’s exchange program, and who had now invited you over to a party you had oh-so-excitedly told him about.

That night, Taehyung went to bed late. Still wanting to believe with everything in him you were just pulling a prank on him like you loved to do every now and then, and that you would walk through the front door anytime with that tired face of yours after the long ass flights to Korea he was so used to by then — the same exhausted face that would light up as a bright smile took over your factions instead at the sight of him.

However, that night, you did not make it home. What you did make it to instead, was to be the first one to congratulate him on his day. Over the phone, yes, with the airport’s background noise and not in person like he had wanted to, yet there you were being once again the first one to do so, at exactly 00:00. And somehow, that alone was enough to make him happy before going to sleep. Not as happy as he would’ve been with getting to sleep with you in his arms, of course, but happy nevertheless.

He did not lose faith, though. The next morning, as he got ready to head out to rehearsal, he kept glancing at his apartment’s door over and over, still waiting for it to burst open anytime and for you to walk inside right after.

When that didn’t happen, he looked forward to the moment his members brought him his birthday cake as they waited in the dressing rooms for their turn to rehearse. Now, the guys hadn’t told him they were bringing him cake, but after all these years it was pretty much a given. And it would only make sense that you were there, right? Whether it was bringing the cake to him as everyone in the room sang the traditional birthday song to him, or showing up as a surprise right after.

Once that didn’t happen either, he couldn’t hide his disappointment anymore — still being grateful to everyone else for trying to make his special day a memorable one, yet not being able to fully enjoy it without you there. Even falling in the cliché of wishing for you to be there as he blew out the candles. That was truly all he wanted, after all.

And once his schedule for the day was finally cleared up, his last hope was walking into the apartment that night and seeing you already there waiting for him.

Again, that didn’t happen.

Biting the inside of his cheek as he walked into an empty apartment, although Yeontan was there to excitedly welcome him back home and had managed to bring a weak smile to his face, he couldn’t help but feel his eyes well up with tears. Telling himself over and over how stupid it was to be upset over something neither of you could control, he contemplated calling you for a few seconds, shaking that thought off with a tilt of his head and deciding to go take a hot shower instead. No matter how bad he wanted to, if he did call you, he knew for sure he would end up being even more upset than he already was, and then you would end up being upset as well, and that he did not want.

Not even bothering on drying his hair later that night, he changed into his pyjamas and called Tan to go keep him some company like it was usual by then. Watching the fluffy dog make himself comfortable on the mattress, Taehyung turned the lights off so he could get into bed for once and for all — wanting nothing but to sleep that day off so you would hopefully be there by the morning. Although it would no longer be his birthday, he wished he could at least get to spend some time together before he had to head out once again.

Before he could completely doze off, however, he felt Yeontan snap up from his sleep and effusively wave his tail from side to side as he ran to the closed door of the bedroom. Letting out a tired groan, Taehyung glanced over at the clock on his nightstand, staring at the number ten on it for a second before he turned the lamp on and fixed his eyes on his excited pup.

“I already fed you,” his voice came out hoarse at the lack of speaking, catching Tan’s attention for a second there before he was back at barking at the door. “Don’t tell me you want to go to the b—”

That’s when the sound of a key making it inside the front door’s lock caught his attention. And, you see, only two people had a key to the apartment. One was his, of course, and the other one, much to his excitement right then, was yours.

Not even having time to catch his breath, he jumped off the bed and opened the bedroom’s door, watching Yeontan sprint down the already illuminated hallway as you had just turned its lights on — a huge smile parting his lips at the sight of you, not being able to hold back a giggle of his at the way you had panicked and closed the door harder than you had intended to, so Tan wouldn’t be able to run out of the apartment.

“Tan-ie bean!” you excitedly greeted the pup first thing as he reached your side.

Struggling to move past your suitcase, you managed to kneel down to pet the cute ball off fluff with one hand as you held the other one as far up as you could, holding a strawberry cupcake with a single candle on it that you had already lit up right before coming in — maybe not your brightest of ideas.

Staring up at your boyfriend, who was still on the other end of the hallway, you smiled brightly and stood up straight as he came closer. “Happ—”

Before you could even finish what you had initially planned to sing and had by then settled for cheerfully chanting instead, Taehyung had already pulled you into his arms — unintentionally blowing out the candle as he had rushed over to you way faster than he’d like to admit.

“I missed you” he mumbled, wrapping his arms tighter around your figure and burying his face in the crook of your neck as he felt his heart at ease.

You smiled sweetly, wrapping your arms around him as well —being careful enough not to stain his designer pyjamas with the cupcake’s icing— and pressing down a small kiss to his shoulder.

“I missed you, too” you cooed, hearing him giggle when you planted a kiss on his neck this time.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were getting on a plane already?”

“Because I thought I would get here before you came back from rehearsal and I’d surprise you. You know, wait for you with dinner and whatnot…” you pouted. “But then of course I had trouble with my luggage and got here way too late. So I got you a cupcake and a candle instead!”

Taehyung giggled at the way you had ever so cheerfully said that last part, pulling slightly away from your body so he could glance at the cupcake in your hand you had just raised up in a victorious way.

“You could’ve just showed up barehanded, said ‘happy birthday’, and I would’ve been the happiest”.

“You interrupted me when I was about to tell you ‘happy birthday’, though” you huffed over dramatically.

Letting out a light laugh, he securely cupped your face in his warm hands and rested his forehead on yours, smiling blissfully as ever at how close he was able to have you right then, at how he was able to feel your warmness in his hands after all those months. “You can say it again now”.

“But you already blew out the candle” you pouted, bringing the treat closer to him so he could see your point.

“I guess this is the moment my wish comes true then”.

“You didn’t even get to make a wish, you idiot” you rolled your eyes.

“Oh, I did” he nodded his head determinedly. “Earlier today. And not to brag about it, but it already became true”.

“Was it perhaps for me to arrive today?” you coyly batted your eyelashes, earning a very visible roll of eyes from him.

“Cocky, aren’t we?”

“I mean,” you shrugged, taking a step back from him and his hold. “I can always go back home and send your actual wish ov—”

“Yah,” he stopped you as you dramatically turned around to pretend to leave and Yeontan followed right after, pulling you back to him by your wrist. “I didn’t spend pretty much my entire birthday wishing for you to get here so you can leave me just like that” his eyes turned softer, yet still held that playful vibe in them. “Besides,” he pulled you closer, this time by your waist. “Funny how you said ‘go back home’ when this is your home now, baby” your heart skipped a beat at his remark, appreciating the way he looked up and puckered his lips as he pretended to fall deep in thought. “Hm… Maybe I misheard”.

You giggled at the way he had copied your overdramatic ways, bringing your free hand up to sweetly caress his cheek. “My bad, love”.

Taehyung smiled, with that boxy smile you fell in love with years ago, and nodded softly to let you know it was alright. “Can I get my birthday kiss now?” he murmured, ever so faintly brushing his longing lips against yours. “I’m kinda dying over here”.

Shaking your head in amusement as you laughed, you bit your lower lip. “Just kiss me already, you dork”.

So he did, not even dreaming of wasting another second before his lips hungrily crashed against yours. He had missed you like crazy, he always did, but right then, as your soft lips were pressing on his and your hand made its way from his cheek to the back of his head, entangling your fingers in his still damp hair, he realised just how bad he had craved your touch, how bad he had craved you.

Having him deepen the kiss, you couldn’t help but take one step back as you had lost your balance — his hand being quick to bring your body right back to press against his, later resting on your lower back to keep you steady as his other hand firmly cupped your cheek.

“Happy birthday” you mumbled against his mouth when you had pulled away to catch your breath, feeling the corners of his lips curve up before he pressed them to yours once more.

“It is now” he hummed, drawing tender circles with his thumb on your chin and not being able to hold back a giggle when it was you the one to steal a kiss from his mouth right then.

Your breath hitched when you felt his hands made their way down your body, letting out a squeal when they grabbed your thighs and picked you up without a warning — your arms wrapping tightly around his neck and legs around his waist as his hands were firmly placed on your ass to keep you from slipping down while he walked the two of you out of the hallway and into the living room, having Yeontan run past you two and go lie on the couch.

“Yah, I just got here and you’re already going for second base?” you teased him with raised eyebrows.

Taehyung shook his head, cockily raising one of his own. “I’ve earned my right to all bases a long time ago, I don’t know what you’re talking about”.

“Don’t get too cocky, Kim Taehyung” you warned him as he sat you down on the edge of the counter, being careful enough not to knock down one of the pictures of the two of you that were neatly displaying on it. “I might revoke all your rights”.

“You wouldn’t” he daringly squinted his eyes. “Not on my birthday”.

You threw your head back, letting out a loud laugh and placing the cupcake down on the counter before you went back to his eye level. “Only under two hours until it’s over, so...”

“You wouldn’t” he repeated confidently.

“What makes you so sure, old man?”

Shaking his head in amusement and deciding not to comment on the taunting name you had just called him, he didn’t even try to hide the smirk that was curving up the corners of his lips as he leaned in. “I just know”.

Not even trying to play it hard anymore, you met his lips in the middle, humming contentedly when he placed his hand behind your neck so he could take control over the kiss he was not quite willing to let go of yet. And neither were you, which is why your eyes remained closed and your lips slightly puckered up —clearly wanting more— when he suddenly pulled away one minute later.

“Okay, now tell me my birthday present!” he demanded.

Still being too stunned by the intoxicating kiss he had just given you, it took you a second to open your eyes after hearing his muffled yet excited words against your lips — eyes locking with his excited ones as his hands unconsciously rested on your thighs.

“Oh, it’s in my bag!” you jumped up once you managed to understand what he had meant. “Let me go get it”.

Although your words were meant for him to move aside so you could get up on your feet and rush over to the forgotten suitcase on the hallway, Taehyung did not move an inch — if anything, tightening the hold of his hands on your thighs to keep you from going anywhere.

“Not that one”.

Your eyebrows knitted together in confusion. “The cupcake?” you offered, earning a light laugh from him, along with a small shake of his head. “Sex? Because I know I was just threatening with revoking that right, but since it’s still your birthday, I mean...”

Taehyung laughed wholeheartedly, once again shaking his head no as he brought his face closer to yours. “Although I would love that and will take you up on that offer later,” his bold words managed to bring some heat to your cheeks. “That is not what I meant”.

“What did you mean then?”

“Just want you to tell me something...” he hinted, gently caressing your sides. “How long will you be staying, baby?”

You rolled your eyes when it finally hit you what he had meant all along. And you couldn’t help but laugh lightly at how such simple things were the ones that made him the happiest. “Well, considering I only got a one way ticket over here this time,” your heart sped up at the way his smile grew wider at the sound of that. “And that the rest of my stuff will arrive here in a few days… I’d say I’m staying for quite a long, long time”.

“How about forever?” he smiled brightly.

You giggled, tilting your head up in anticipation as you felt him lean in to press his mouth on yours. “I like the sound of that”.

“I love the sound of that” he agreed, pressing another kiss to your smiling lips.

And you truly did, for although you were leaving everything behind, your family, your childhood friends, your culture... it was easy as long as you had him. And even though you knew there would be times homesickness would hit you like a truck, especially when the time came and Taehyung would have to go on tour with his group, you were ready to start your new life here with him. You had already lived here once for a year, after all, the only difference being you now got to live with your long term boyfriend, and, of course, that you wouldn’t have to count down the days until you had to go back home and away from him anymore.

“Everything alright?” he wondered, catching up on the way you had momentarily spaced out.

“Mhm…” you were quick to reassure him with an eager nod of your head. “Now eat your birthday treat before I do” you threatened, grabbing the cupcake that had been lying next to you all along and bringing it up to his face.

Taehyung chuckled, pressing a lingering kiss to your neck that was sweetly followed by another one. “But I have my birthday treat right here…”

Although flustered by both his words and the way his lips kept peppering soft kisses all over the sensitive skin of your neck, you stood your ground. “Pretty sure I’m your girlfriend, but oh well”.

He chuckled once more — before you could react, dipping one of his long fingers on the icing and spreading a good amount of it on your lips. “Now you’re both”.

You didn’t really get to fully laugh at his playful antics before the sound of it was muffled by his mouth sucking on your bottom lip, his fingers holding onto your chin to keep you from pulling away as he deepened the kiss — making sure to remove every last trace of icing on your mouth before he slid his tongue into it.

Breaking the kiss for a brief second for what he thought was to catch your breath before bringing your already swollen lips back to his awaiting ones, he found himself letting his jaw drop when you opened your mouth not to kiss him once more, but to bring the infamous cupcake up to it and loudly bite down on it.

“Yah, that is my strawberry cupcake!” he called you out — although trying to act mad, having a hard time hiding his smile at the way you had just covered your full mouth as you laughed whilst trying to chew right then.

“You weren’t eating it, so…” you shrugged.

Before you could take another bite, however, he grabbed your wrist, quickly moving it up to his mouth instead and shoving the entire baked good into it in just one go.

Petrified after what just happened, you stared at your now empty hand — amazed by the way he had managed not to bite into your fingers with how fast and forceful his mouth had been, before your eyes fixed on your full-mouthed boyfriend as he struggled to chew the whole thing down.

“Mine” he stated, not minding to cover his mouth as he was almost done with it already.

“I tend to forget how big your mouth actually is” you admitted, mindlessly sucking the remains of icing from off your fingers.

Taehyung scoffed, rushing to swallow down so he could properly speak. “You out of all people should know what my mouth can d—”

“You know,” you cut him off before he could pronounce that last letter and bring his cocky point across. “Booking a return plane ticket sounds really tempting right now”.

“Oh, yeah?” he tauntingly raised one of his eyebrows, pulling you closer to the edge of the counter and making you wrap your legs around his waist. “Good thing from now on those return tickets will bring you right back to Seoul”.

That was what made him the happiest. After all those years of buying ticket after ticket, all those years of having to drop you off at the airport so you could go back home, all those years of having to wait for endless months just so you could see each other for a few days, all of that, was over now.

From that night on, this was your home. You, him and Yeontan, and of course, the eventual additions that would be made in a couple of years.

And that was the best part. No matter where you travelled to from now on, you would always just go visit abroad and return right here, back to him — never again being almost about to miss his birthday, for you would both go to sleep and wake up right next to him during all the upcoming ones, just like he had ached you to do every single day ever since you got together four years ago.

[marvel-fanfic-writer-8675]

Hello! Do you think you could write Tony x Reader about how Tony pursue reader into going out on a date with him but the reader keeps on saying no until one time, she said yes. It could be headcanon or a one shot. It's up to you! But if you can't write this, it's okay!!!

Hello @underoostarks! So sorry I didn’t get to this sooner! I didn’t get the notification for it until now! Here ya go!

She Said Yes!

“Tony for the 1000th time, N O. I’m not going on a date with you, I have work I gotta do.” You were a doctor and lab tech for the Avengers, hired so that the team could always have a doctor on hand when needed. From the second you met, Tony had been pursuing you, trying to get you to go out with him. You heard of his past with women obviously, a quick smash and dash sorta thing, and you didn’t want to be a part of that, so you kept with your excuses.

“What work could you possibly have on a Friday night?” You raised your eyebrows at him, “Tony, missions don’t stop on weekends, so injuries don’t stop on weekends, so neither do I.” You turned back to o your computer, where you were inputting files and information. “Besides, I’m trying to go through and correct any files we have, yes, by hand, in case FRIDAY missed anything.” Tony walked away defeated again.

It was about a week later, and none of the team had any missions for a while, it was odd, but not that concerning. The whole team was bored, with no reports to do, missions to plan, nothing, including you. That also meant you had no excuse ready for when Tony asked you out. “Tony, look, I’m going to be honest with you, alright?” Tony nodded his head and you continued, “I don’t just want to become another girl in the record books, another smash and dash, everyone knows your reputation, and the fact you’ve never held a girlfriend for over 3 months. I’m looking for something more stable, permanent.” Tony looked shocked, “Y/N, I’m sorry, but look, I really like you, I think I love you, I want to settle down with you, have something more permanent. I’d you’ll give me the chance…..” You looked into his eyes and contemplated, he sounded genuine. “Alright Tones, I’ll give ya a chance, don’t ruin it, you do and I’ll make sure you regret it.”

Tony was all smiles, he finally got his chance! He wasn’t going to waste it. “Tomorrow, I’ll pick you up at 6:00pm, wear whatever you’d like, or nothing at all, I wouldn’t mind that either,” he shot you a wink, you just rolled your eyes in response. “See ya then Tones,” you placed a kiss on his cheek and went to your room to read a book.

Tomorrow came and you were freaking out a little. You liked Tony, he was like your dream guy, he was nice but would still joke and bicker with you. He was smart and pretty damn hot, not to mention that charming smile that you couldn’t even look at or else you’d swoon. Other than being a womanizer, he was perfect. but if he stuck to his word then you didn’t have to worry about that. It was 5:45, Nat, and Wanda just finished helping you put on the finishing touches to your outfit.

At exactly 6, you heard a knock on the door, Tony. You grabbed your bag and opened the door, Tony was there, a matching AC/DC shirt on with jeans and vans as well. He was also holding a bouquet of your favorite flowers. You both bust out laughing. “Great minds think alike huh?” Your joke cleared the air, allowing you both to joke like you normally did. “These are for you,” he held out the flowers, “thanks Tones, let me set these in a vase and we can head out.” You set them in a glass of water and headed back to the door, grabbing Tony’s hand he led you guys out to the car.

The date was amazing. On the drive there, you guys started singing karaoke. Tony sung Drive By, written by Train and it really stuck you hard, because he put all his emotions into that song. “Oh I swear to ya, I’ll be there for ya, this is not a drive byyyyyyy!”

Tony then took you both to the fair where he won you a prize and you guys rode the Ferris wheel, kissing at the top of course. You guys ran around finding and eating all the weirdest and greasiest food you could find. The night was full of laughs and felt like coming home. God, you were glad you finally agreed to a date.

[babyitsfallin]

i'm setting off, but not without my muse | chan

pairing: bang chan/reader

word count: 1.4k

genre: romance, fluff

warnings: none! just some nice cuddling and words of reassurance

summary: chan works too much, you think he should take some time for himself.

Chan is a workaholic.

It’s not a quality that particularly goes under the radar by really anyone; not his groupmates, not his fellow staff, his family, him, but more importantly: you. There are at least four different cans of Monster littered across his desk, the lights dim in the small, confined space. His monitor hangs above him while he works, eyes darting from screen to screen while he clicks into different sections of the song he’s working on. A lazy bass pours out of the speakers as he clicks and drags it, pulling a distorted cymbal sound on top of it until he’s satisfied.

You like watching him work. He’s intent and focused, quite frankly it’s a little sexy, but mostly it’s relaxing. You get to sit and lounge, reading or playing on your phone or working on your own stuff while he does his. It’s a type of togetherness and closeness that’s comfortable, you don’t feel the need to talk or really say much of anything; just being in one another’s presence is enough. Plus, it’s pretty fascinating in the times you do pay attention to what he’s doing. He tends to do things without realizing, muttering under his breath, a mix between Korean and his thick Australian accent, for example. Sometimes he groans, pouting at himself for not getting the result he wants until he sighs and gets back to it. You usually don’t interfere, it’s part of his process. It’s not until he’s doing it in a timespan you deem a little too short for him to be doing it that often that you suggest a break, and he’s forced to sigh and agree with you.

“What do you think of this?” he asks, breaking you out of your thoughts. Your Twitter feed shines on your laptop next to you on the couch, long forgotten in favor of admiring your talented boyfriend. He clicks play, and the instrumental he’s been working on practically bounces off of the walls. It’s slower than the usual song the boys use, something more adjacent to the song he and Hyunjin worked on, but not quite as sexy. A cool electric guitar curls in a few seconds into the intro and you smile, nodding along with the beat. It’s good, no it’s better than good.

“I think it sounds like a new single,” you praise, letting yourself fall into the sound as it envelops you. “What’s the topic for the song, anyways?”

“Dunno, Felix is actually supposed to be set to write this time, they really liked some of what he did on Surfin’,” he replies, and he dons that sweet, adoring smile whenever he talks about Felix, warm and caring. “But he wanted me to produce the instrumental for it, we’re supposed to discuss how it’ll all sound with the lyrics sometime this week.”

“Wow, you sound so professional,” you tease, and Chan rolls his eyes playfully as he turns the track down, swiveling his chair to look at you. “I’m excited to hear it, though. I can’t believe he gets to write his first full, real song.”

“I know right?” Chan smiles. “I’m so proud of him. Hey, maybe you can be in when he records it, give some thoughts, yeah?”

“Wow, what an honor,” you intertwine your fingers together, and place your chin on top of them. “Of course I can.”

“Ah, perfect,” Chan stretches his arms above his head, the edges of his cut shirt revealing his sides as a yawn finally escapes him while the track runs to the end. It isn’t until then that you realize it’s well past any decent time to sleep, flicking your eyes to your laptop to see the clear 5:38 AM right in the corner. Oops.

“We should get some sleep,” you suggest, and you catch Chan closing his eyes for a second, narrowing your own at him.

“Mmm, soon, I just need to –”

“Babe,” you put a touch of an edge in your voice, more of a warning than anything, and he purses his lips at you. “It’s almost six in the morning. The track can wait for finishing touches, it’s not going to run away,” you tease.

“But –”

“C’mere,” you close your laptop, placing it onto the floor as you scoot over, patting the spot next to you on the couch as he eyes it. He stands up, and you hear a light pop in his knees as he makes his way to you. He settles in next to you, wrapping his arms around your middle, as he buries his face into your neck.

He’ll never admit it, you think, but he needs the break. He’s always doing something, writing or producing or giving an interview or learning choreography or taking care of the other members. He doesn’t mind, you know that, but Chan’s always been one to overextend himself. He always gives so much of himself to others, you included, and has a tendency to forget himself. You catch a glimpse of his eyebags, deep and heavy from the corner of your eye and it has you bringing a hand to curl in his hair as he properly relaxes into you.

“You shouldn’t work yourself so hard,” you mumble, letting your nails scratch lightly at his scalp. He gives a sound of appreciation and squeezes you tighter.

“I know,” he whispers into your neck, and it tickles just a touch.

“I’m serious,” you keep your voice low. You don’t want to yell at him, but more so…to remind him. Chan’s always taking care of others, watching over them and making sure they’re taken care of. You think it’s time someone was there to take care of him for once. “You shouldn’t worry about being up into the morning hours to just work on something. It’s not good for you.”

He stays silent, his hand rubbing circles into your shirt, like he’s contemplating your words, actually taking them to heart. His breath is soft and warm against your skin, and despite the conversation, it’s a comforting feeling to be surrounded by him, held by him.

“Okay,” he says, and he shifts, resting his chin against your shoulder to look at you. “…I’ll ask for some time off. It’s been a while, anyway. We could all use it.”

“…Really?”

“Yeah, really,” he smiles, and he presses a kiss against your shoulder. “Let’s take a trip somewhere, just the two of us.”

“…Really?” you ask again, and he laughs, bright and like honey, your favorite sound in the world.

“Yes, really,” he grins, teasing tone in his voice, a light giggle mixed in. “Feels like the only time alone we get is in here, you deserve romance! A picnic and a night sky!”

“I like watching you work,” you insist. “It’s nice, and relaxing.”

“Did you not just tell me I work too much?” he grins, and you narrow your eyes at him good naturedly.

“You do,” you say, and move to kiss the tip of his nose, earning a sound that crosses between a giggle and fake disgust. “I’m just saying don’t feel bad that this it the time we have to spend together. It’s not a punishment to watch you create masterpieces.”

“I’m so glad you think Cheese is a masterpiece.”

“It is, you helped make it,” you grin, and he returns it, letting his eyes slide shut. “It doesn’t matter where we are, or what we’re doing, I’m just glad I get to be with you doing it. But,” you pause, and he lifts his brows in wait, keeping his eyes shut. “ I do want us to feed each other and be totally gross while you point out constellations.”

“Then I guess I’ll just have to give you exactly what you want, huh?” he hums.

“I guess you will.”

He smiles in response, and you start to feel the evening out of his breath, a whispered, groggy “I love you,” before sleep finally pulls him in, rested against you, his arms loose around your waist now as he leans into you. You rest your cheek onto the top of his head, letting your own lids slide shut, cuddling in next to him.

It’s not the most ideal sleeping arrangement, you know you’d both be more comfortable sleeping laying down, even in the tiny bed back at his dorm, but having him draped all over you, finally getting the rest that’d been pulling at him for ages, well, the ideals could always be saved for later. Right now you had your boy, and a sweet promise of something even more exciting later; what more could you ask for.

[hoonhrt]

EMBRASSE-MOI

: pairing — student! jay x tutor! reader

: genre — fluff, crack 

: song recc. — L’amour by Miel De Montagne 

: a/n — this lowkey sucks but I've been wanting to get work out so I'm sorry if this isn't the best :(( also I'm still learning french so if some of it is wrong pls lmk so i can fix it!! 

Jay was your school’s resident bad boy. blond hair, all-black outfits, cuts class and yells at kids that look his way. you know? the usual. You on the other hand were the complete opposite. straight-A student. A quiet kid who didn’t dare look the ways of Jay Park and his Clique™. So imagine the shock that was felt when the boy you avoided at all costs, walks up to you in the middle of the cafeteria asking for French lessons. 

“You want me to do what?” He rolls his eyes, tired of this conversation already. 

“Can you not hear? I’m failing French and I need to pass or else my parents won’t let me move to France.” He speaks as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

“And you’re asking me why?” He rolls his eyes again for what felt like the 100th time. You’re just confused about how he even knows of your existence.

“Listen, all I know that you’re in my French class and that you pay attention, I’ll even pay you I just need to get my mark up.” You perk up to the sound of money. You don’t really need but it’s still nice to have some. Doing this will get you good Karma right? 

“Fine. Meet me at the library every Monday and Wednesday after class, got it?” Jay stares at you with annoyance. He really does not want to be wasting his senior year on stupid lessons but, here we are. He reluctantly agrees and watches you walk away, struggling to hold your books in your arms. He turns around and lets out a deep sigh, wondering if the hot chicks and fancy baguettes in France are really worth this

Minutes turned into hours as you waited for Jay to show up. You waited patiently for hours just for this kid to not show up. Annoyed, you start to pack up your books. You don’t know why you’d think someone like Jay would actually show up to a voluntary tutor session. You were just about to make your way out of the library when you see someone running towards you almost like the flash. As the figure got closer to your still body, you realize it was Jay. Now, bent over in front of you gasping for air with his tongue out like a dog. You stared at his limped-over figure with confusion and slight disgust. 

“s-s-sorry i was… late, i f-forgot about… this.” he manages to speak out with the little air he has in him. He stands up and evens out his breath. 

“what makes you think i’m gonna tutor you now? you wasted my time Park, i have a life too you know.” you snap at him. He stares at you for a brief second before letting out a hearty laugh, throwing his head back and slapping his leg. He sees your serious expression, your eyes glaring at him like an eagle and awkwardly stops laughing. 

“Look, i’m paying you and this is only gonna last for a little while. i just need to pass, that’s it.” His eyes shine with a hopeful gleam, a look that is extremely rare to see from Jay Park. He looked a little cute. You dramatically sigh and start walking into the library, Jay following behind you. 

You settle at the table you sat at prior, re-opening your book bag to pull out your notes. He just watches you do that, not making an effort to even bring out a pencil. 

“Okay, so how much french do you even know?” 

He stares into space, a little hesitant to continue. “Um, i can ask if i can go to the bathroom?” You stare at him with disbelief. You’ve been in this class with him for months and that’s all he knows. 

“THAT’S IT?” 

“Oh and i can say good morning!” you let out a loud groan that catches the attention of others around, causing them to loudly shush at you. Feeling annoyed again, you contemplate if the money was really worth it. You sigh out and start looking for your notes from the beginning of the semester. This was gonna take a LONG time. 

“... and that’s how you conjugate verbs in the past tense, aka passé composé!” You finish off the session with joy. Jay on the other hand has gone completely blank, not remembering a single word you just told him. He stares down at his notes, then at you, then back down at his notes. You can see the struggle on his face and he hasn’t said a word yet. 

“I’m never gonna pass french. This is it. I can kiss France goodbye.” he claims with despair. This already too hard for him and he barely has learned anything. He sets his head on the table and mumbles to himself about how he will never be happy if he doesn’t live his youthful 20’s in France. You sat across from him irritated with his discouraging behaviour and a little sad that you weren’t able to teach him well. Until you come up with a plan that might help him improve much quicker.  

“What if… we hang out this weekend? We can do something and we’ll only speak in French! Of course I’ll help you and all that. But like, maybe? Only if you want to of course you probably don’t wanna spend your weekend with me i dont know you know its just a plan.” you ramble on and on without stopping and Jay simply just watches you. He smirks a little before nodding. 

“How about you put your number in my phone and then I’ll text you when I’m free hm?” he slides his phone across the table towards you and eyes you typing it in. He catches a glimpse of your rose-coloured cheeks and smirks a little more. 

“Okay, uh there’s my number! Just um, text me you know, when you’re free!” you manage to stutter out. Jay just nods at you and again, watches you walk away. This time a slight smile across his face. 

A sudden notification pulls you away from your thoughts. An unknown number that you had a feeling belonged to a particular boy you didn’t think would actually text you. 

042-002-1130: bonjour 

042-002-1130: was that even right

042-002-1130: anyways I’m free on saturday if you wanna hang ig 

042-002-1130: samedi is saturday right 

042-002-1130: it is wow im such a genius 

You let out a snort at his cocky behaviour and reply back, letting him know that you were free yourself and to meet you at the school grounds at 2 pm. 

Saturday shows up as you wait outside the school gates, a picnic basket in hand. An all-black car with dark tinted windows zooms up to you. The window is pulled down and alas, the handsome boy sits in the driver’s seat, ushering you to get into the car with his hand. 

“Woah a picnic basket? Listen y/n you’re cool and all but this isn’t a date,” he speaks and notices you roll your eyes. A smug smile tugging his lips. 

“No you asshole, I have a plan with this.” 

“Tell me,” Jay begins to drive away from the school. The destination is unknown to you but extremely familiar to the boy next to you. 

“In here there is a bunch of food, in order for you to eat, you’re gonna have to say the name of the food in french.” He turns his head to see you looking back at him, a sweet smile places on your face. Jay has always known of you. You sat in the back of the classroom, handed in all your work on time and never skipped a class. You had very few friends and always seemed to be lost in a dream world when you weren’t working. Jay had never been able to speak to you personally as you always avoided him but know he has the chance to actually talk to you, and he doesn’t wanna mess it up. 

The car stopped at the edge of a giant grassy field. The greenery going miles ahead. Trees surrounding the two of you. Jay like a gentleman runs out of the car to open the door for you. You blush at his actions, thanking him silently by smiling at him. 

He directs you to a small spot under a tree. You lay out a blanket for you to sit on while Jay leans up against the tree. You tell him to sit down next to you as you bring out all the little snacks to share with him. He thinks that he could get used to this. 

“D’accord, commençons! Qu'est-ce que ç'est?” (okay, lets start! What is this?) 

You pick up a grape. He thinks for a little bit before answering. “Un raisin.” (a grape) You clap with glee and hand him over the grape. A silence falls between you both, unaware of how to keep going. He picks up a strawberry and brings it to your face. “Tu aime les fraises?” (do you like strawberries?) You eye him for a second, for someone who said he only knows how to ask how to go the bathroom in french, he knows quite a bit. You nod a little, opening your mouth and letting him feed you the sweet fruit. Your face matches the colour of the strawberry and he giggles. You pull out a sandwich and ask him to describe what’s in it. 

“Dans le sandwich, il y a du jambon, du beurre, et de la tomate.” (in the sandwich there is some ham, some butter, and some tomato.) He speaks confidently. 

“Trés bien Jay! Tu es bon en parler francias!” (very good Jay! You are really good at speaking French!) 

“Merci, mon Cheri.” (Thank you, my dear.) you blush even more before and shy away from Jay’s gaze. Jay being the very bold guy that he is, placing his hand underneath your jaw, forcing you to meet his eyes. You both just stare at each other as the sun sets behind you. Was Jay always this beautiful? His eyes scan over your face seeking for any discomfort, none is to be found. So he makes the move and starts to lean in. You already have your eyes closed and lips puckered out, ready to embrace a feeling you’ve never felt before.

His breath fans over your lips and just before he kisses you he asks “je peux t’embrasser? (can I kiss you?) you eagerly nod and whisper out “embrasse-moi.” (kiss me.) Jay finally places his lips on yours and everything feels right. Your hands find their way to the back of his neck to deepen the kiss. You stay in this position with him for a little while before you pull back for air. Both his hands cradle your face, his thumb rubbing across the apples of your cheeks.

“I still have a lot to learn y’know?” Jay breaks the silence. You laugh out loud, falling into his lap. 

“Same time next week then yeah?” He lets out a ‘hmm’ and watches you rest your head against his thigh, playing with the ends of your hair. ‘Maybe France could wait a little’ he thought. 

[wonlouvre]

Yayyy i absolutely love your writing!!

I would like to request a Hoshi × gn!idol! Reader angst+fluff imagine where Soonyoung cheers/takes care of his reserved s/o who has been having a hard time and has opened up to him about it for the first time. S/o is someone who can't say no easily and because of that their workload had increased a lot. But in the end they can't hold themselves any longer and breaks down.

strength | k. sy.

pairing: hoshi x gn!idol reader genre: fluff, angst, then fluff again warnings: mentions of anxiety, physical and mental tiredness (please tell me if i missed anything!) word count: 1.8k+ (i honestly don’t even know anymore)

💌: thank you very much for requesting! i made some tweaks here and there and i hope you still like it! thank you for loving my writing as well :’( it really means a lot that <3 i hope you like this!

Soonyoung was aware that you’d be coming from Japan for your collaborative magazine photoshoot. He just didn’t know that you’d be going straight from the airport at four o’clock in the morning. 

He thought he read your message wrong saying that you’re on your way to the assigned shooting location. As far as he’s concerned, the call time was at seven a.m. He had to do a double take while squinting his eyes over the brightness of his phone but when he saw another bubble pop out saying you’re already there, he immediately jumped off his bed to shower. 

He misses you. You’ve been going in and out of the country because of promotions and the chances of getting to see you has been slim to none. If he ever meets with you, it will be short because either one of you has to go back to work or has to go back to bed because there is a flight to catch the next day. It’s obviously tough. But your relationship perseveres. 

Soonyoung will do everything to make it work and you are together with him on that. So if it means he has to shower half-asleep and wear his boxers backwards just to see you, he’d never mind.

Your Japanese album tour started and ended successfully but work didn’t stop from there. You were just getting started. Before leaving the said country, you were fully booked for live television performances, interviews, variety shows and the like. It was exhausting but, it was an opportunity that you couldn’t miss out on for the world even if you wanted to. 

Soonyoung is proud of you and he will always be. Heart eyes were formed whenever he got the chance to watch your performances whether it be from a paid livestream event or from kind fans sharing and uploading their videos or photos on Twitter or Instagram. He’s even more in love when it’s in person and he gets to watch your performance plus enjoy it with your never failing supportive fans. 

However, Soonyoung is also worried because he knows you’re also tired. He knows how fulfilling it is to do what you love the most, but he’s no stranger to the physically and mentally tiring part of it. He wasn’t even surprised to catch you asleep on the couch when he arrived at your dressing room. 

Your manager’s eyes brightened when they saw him, quickly standing up from the chair to give him a hug. 

“They told me they just need a fifteen minute nap,” they whisper against Soonyoung’s shoulder as he hugs them back. “But we both know they need more than that.”

Soonyoung sadly smiles while his eyes never leave your curled form. He mutters a simple “I’ll take it from here” while your manager excuses themself to buy everyone breakfast. 

It’s a challenge to take you into his arms without disturbing your sleep because he doesn’t want that from happening. He just wants to hold you for the remaining time without interruption from other people. He just wants to hold you and share this moment of calm before the lights and camera get into action later. 

Soonyoung’s thankful you didn't, although he still felt your lips lightly ghost against his jaw, telling him that you know that he’s here. He brings your legs over his lap while he cradles your head close to his neck. He wishes to lay down, but the couch is too cramped for two bodies so he’d have to settle with this position. He guesses it’s fine with how you deeply inhale his scent and snuggle closer and closer, locking your arms around his waist with no intentions of letting go. 

Just like you, he falls asleep, completely comfortable and content in finally having you in his arms again. 

Your tangled bodies were shaken to wake up at least an hour later. Both of your managers have food in their hand, ready to energize the two of you up before moving forward with the hair and makeup. The agenda for today includes a photoshoot with several changes of outfit, a short shoot for an audio video presentation and lastly an interview or question and answer of some sort. 

Your relationship has been publicly known for two years already. Some fans have been supportive while some have been angry. It’s nothing new and it’s nothing the two of you could care about at this point. 

Countless projects have been offered to the two of you during the course of those two years whether it be a song or dance performance, a guesting on a famous variety show and even a three second cameo appearance on a drama. They’re all lovely offers and you would love to participate, but the two of you made a decision to keep the relationship private. Sure, you’ll accept it from time to time. But, it’s still very limited to one to two songs to sing or dance to together and some magazine photoshoots. Just like now. 

By far, this is the third time the two of you would be featured on a magazine cover. Your respective publicists already know how to communicate to the publishing company your terms and conditions. Questions about your relationship are allowed, but to a certain number only. The rest will be about what’s mostly seen by fans and the rest of the public which is automatically your music. 

The concept is not necessarily daringly romantic. After all, what you’re trying to promote here is the clothes. But your chemistry is maintained with a few fleeting touches here and there. In one shot, you two were holding hands and the other has his arm is loosely wrapped around your neck. 

You and Soonyoung are careful to not get lost in each other’s eyes during the short breaks in between because the cameras were still rolling. Although, his soft touches on your hand and arm still lingered. On the other hand, you help him fix his hair whenever he gets excited and jumps from time to time. You could kiss him right now, but again, you want to be careful. 

The shoot concluded faster than you thought and the next thing you know, the two of you are sitting side by side with a camera blinking red in front, ready to record the interview included in the contract. 

The interview consisted of questions that’s nothing out of the ordinary. The magazine asked about your favorite go-to styles lately, your look inspirations, a little bit of this or that, your recent music releases or favorite music releases at the moment and of course something about your relationship that you're comfortable and willing enough to share. 

But one particular question caught you off guard that you had to hold your tears and brave through the rest of the interview without showing any signs that you’re about to cry.

“How have you guys been lately, individually?”

“I’ve been great,” you quickly answer with a smile that didn’t even reach your eyes. The camera may not have noticed, but Soonyoung did. It took a lot of patience and restraint for your boyfriend to stop himself from cutting the interviewer off to ask you again how you really have been. 

Everything that was in store for the two of you today ends and when the cameras are gone, you and Soonyoung hand in hand walk back to your dressing room. It’s a relief that this is the last project for the day and you’re glad you could get some rest for the coming week.

Your body slumps on the couch while the staff pack up. You puff out a breath before closing your eyes. You wish you could yell out how tired you are lately. Work piled up over the course of six months and you couldn’t have at least two days away from the makeup and flashing lights. 

Soonyoung bites his lower lip as he settles beside you. He’s contemplating whether he should ask you now or later because he doesn’t want you to grow conscious and shut yourself away. He knows how brave and strong you are. But he also wants you to know that you can trust him and that if you ever need a shoulder to cry or at least lean on, his are more than welcoming. 

“You okay, babe?” He asks in the quiet as the staff leaves one by one. “Anything bothering you?”

You surprise him by sitting up straight and opening your eyes, welling with tears. That makes him shoot up and instantly hug you close. “Oh baby.”

You finally cry and set free the tears that you’ve been locking deep within you. You thought you could brave through this pain and anxiety without having the need to shed any vulnerability. You thought this shall pass soon. You thought you could do this. 

But here you are now letting go with sniffles and shaking shoulders as Soonyoung gently caresses the top of your head. 

He hates to see you cry. But it’s only right to let you. 

“I just feel like I’m going to miss out on everything if I turn down any project offered to me.”

Soonyoung pouts when he hears what’s been bothering you. It took a while for you to calm down and finally talk, but it’s okay. He doesn’t mind. He will never mind. 

“I understand, honey,” he assures you and wipes your tear stained cheek. “And there’s nothing wrong with feeling that way.”

Your lips shake again and crying makes you want to hide. Without hesitation, you crawl to your boyfriend’s lap and wrap your arms around his shoulder. Soonyoung doesn’t complain and just keeps you close, protective arms around your waist.

The dressing room is empty except for the two of you. The staff got the message once Soonyoung pleaded with them through his eyes to give you some time with him since you’re already done for the day.

“It’s also okay to work and work,” he continues, soothing hands rubbing against your back. “But at some point, it’s also okay to take a break for them.”

You pull away and rest your hands on his neck. “Even though I’m going to miss out?”

Soonyoung nods and leans his forehead against yours. “Yes and there’s also nothing wrong with that.”

“I seriously want to go on a trip with my family,” you say and sigh. “And of course, with you too.”

Soonyoung can’t help but giggle. “I’d love to. How about next month? Let’s go somewhere with your family or friends. Where do you want to go? What do you want to do?”

Your boyfriend’s enthusiasm puts a smile on your face and this time, the smile reaches your eyes. “Let’s go somewhere quiet first. I want to take a long nap before we proceed to do anything that needs an awake body.”

“You got it, babe,” Soonyoung promises and kisses your lips.