#the larger pair fit perfectly and are my current favorite pants

[rubenesque-as-fuck]

A shining example of why shopping at stores for women, especially fat women, is a never-ending crapshoot. Two pairs of pants in the same type of style (high waist flare), bought from the same company less than 6 months apart. Supposedly the same damn size but uhhhhhh as you can see there's quite a large fit variation 😡

[sugar-petals]

hey angel (m)

♡  sub!felix + reader 

↳ The JYP Halloween party is ditched on short notice. That means: You have a down-to-celebrate boyfriend in full angel costume on your hands.

words. 5k 

tags. domestic au, finger sucking, hickeys, latex, corruption kink, fingering, vaginal sex, footjob, harnesses, cunnilingus, kitten antics, edging, aftercare 

★⎡CARO’S NOTE⎦› here goes the cutie on duty 👼

genre. domestic + smut/crack

„So sorry mate,“ Bang Chan’s voice resounds through the speaker. „I thought it could work but… We can’t celebrate tonight. Really sorry, Felix. Changbin and I already got dressed up too, but, you know things got shut down. JYP won’t let us with the Corona rules and stuff.“

„Oh no…“

„Yeah, man. Looks like we’ll have to do it next year.“

„You even prepared the food already, right?“

„We’re handing it out to staff and eat it at home. I know, it sucks. I spent half the morning in the kitchen. I can like keep the pumpkin cookies so you can eat them tomorrow after practice or so.“

„I feel so sorry Chan… and thank you.“

„I’ll be calling Hyunjin and Han now as well. Really sorry we’re cancelling short notice. I hope you’re still having a nice evening bro. Maybe we can make it happen for Christmas.“

„Okay. Cheers mate.“

„Yeah, cheers.“

Felix puts his phone down looking more than deflated in his angel costume, puffs out a big sigh. You can tell he really looked forward to this. Just an hour before, you bothered to sew the wings in place rather than rely on the wobbly back-pack like construction that came with it. 

They’re firmly attached to his white top now, and all for nothing. He glued them together by himself with a pack of synthetic feathers ordered on Etsy for a ridiculous shipping cost, along with a little halo that he clipped into his hair. Which, because maybe it really does sense his mood, dangles low and even a bit lopsided over his head.

„It’s the party of the year,“ Felix flops down on the living room couch. “I can’t believe this.“

You sit down opposite to him, starting to clean off the table where masses of cosmetic products and leftover feathers have piles up.

„Next time, Lixie. We can keep the costume. Poor Chan, he organized the living shit out of everything.“

„I’ll just go and shower, get this off, and stuff,“ he points at his face. Felix applied his own makeup with a little help from you here and there, including some golden sparkles. Just yesterday, he bleached his hair. It’s sculpted down to every strand with hair spray now. Felix unties his sneakers with the little gold stars on. Just before he starts plucking off his halo, you get an idea, pick up your phone from the table.

„Wait— Let’s at least make some pictures with your phone, you put so much effort in this. You look so cute. The fans might want to see it as well.“

„Oh! You’re right,“ Felix stops right in his tracks. „For Instagram.“

After tightening his sneakers again and you making sure the halo sights right, Felix walks around your flat in search for a nice backdrop. You follow, quickly flipping through some filters to try, and adjusting the flash on the camera.

After posing at the fridge — strange idea — and in the bathroom turns out a little awkward as well, you decide that such an elaborate costume needs a themed background, and only the bedroom offers just that. You recently changed the duvet to sky blue sheets with clouds on them. The overall interior is mostly clean white as well, with some thrifted vintage furniture. Fairy lights, heavy curtains, a wooden ceiling. Perfect.

„We’ll caption it as… post your own stay-at-home costume, something like that,“ Felix plops down on the bed, acting as if he just took a seat on the cloud in the very middle.

„Sounds pretty good,“ you press release, and the first picture pops up on your screen. „Can you turn a little towards the light? That the sparkles are showing.“

„Yay, I love the sparkles!“

„Just like this, just like this. Don’t move. The sparkles!“

A five-picture series of more snapshots ensues, with you adjusting Felix’s face a few times by hand, even, turning his chin by sheer millimeters to find the perfect angle. He’s stunning.

„I have another idea.“

„Oh?“

„I remember what I wore for Halloween three years ago. The costume must be somewhere. I think it fits together with yours.“

„What, oh wow?“

„What was it again, wait…“

You already begin to sort through your wardrobe, checking each hanger, each drawer, end up where you store your socks, and finally pull out a larger plastic zip bag from the very depths of all that chaos. There it is. Nice.

„Lix, if you’d turn around for me, please.“

He immediately does. Blushing.

„Thank you, angel.“

You pull off your sweat pants, your grey shirt, socks, your bra. Time to dress up. Only your simple black panties stay on. On goes a pair of scarlet stockings, snug and high. Then, a dark red latex skirt that goes in big circles and flounces, down to the mid-thigh. 

Added: A tight sleeveless peplum top that admittedly… and deliberately squeezes your boobs a little. Not too much. More important is that your nipples are showing right through, and the cleavage is sweeping, every demon would be salivating at your feet. If an angel does: Remains to be tested.

Around your waist and chest and over your shoulder goes a black harness, pulling everything together. Some very pointed, glossy pumps with thin heels complete the costume. They’re not crafted to be walked on in the very least, their balance is terrible. You’re planning something else with them. Cherry on top: Devil horn headband. Really curved and pointy, too. Can’t go wrong. You click your tongue and take a spin. The skirt flares out perfectly. Ready to go.

„Felix, time to turn around.“

He does. You can tell he didn’t cheat.

„You’re, you’re so hot in this,“ Felix buries his face right in the comfort of his sweater paws, hoping they would not give away his embarrassed little face. But — his voice does, effortlessly so.

„Come on, have a look at me. Real closely, angel, come. You’re allowed to.“

Felix gazes through his fingers with what sounds like a little meep! in a much more high-pitched tone than his usual speaking range. He’s cute.

„Hey pum’kin. Miss Lucifer speaking. Where’s the barbecue?“

Felix and you recently agreed that hell must be one big and extremely hot cave where everyone’s grilling and having a good time. Australia, essentially.

„Welp!“

„Damn right. Infiltrating God’s realm one cloud at a time. Any last words?“

„It’s so intimidating!“

Felix digs himself into a mountain of pillows on the bed, with only his eyes and nose peeking out. You shrug, adjust your horns.

„Hm. Time for my first satanic act I guess.“

„Oh no!“

„Wait just one minute, be a sweet and patient boy.“

You leave Yongbok confused given that you’re quick to hurry to the kitchen. However, what you return with puts a giggle on his lips right away.

„Boom. It is served.“

„Yes, yes, please!“

Poufy black cocoa cupcakes. The ones with the cute little ghost frosting on it, and the melted chocolate inside. Felix finds them irresistable since the last Halloween party, to the point where you bake them mid-July. The current set of cupcakes was meant to be a contribution to Bang Chan’s eerie and delectable buffet. As for now, they’re in deep need of someone hungry since you made a lot of them, assuming a post-workout Changbin would devour at least five or more.

„Good move,“ he admits, a little shaky, and you proceed to tray the cupcakes on the bed — stuffing Felix for a solid ten minutes until there’s chocolate all over his face. What you’ll be quick to confess is that you’ve been deliberately messy feeding him, with all the crumbs in particular.

„Spoiled honey bun,“ you plant a kiss on top of his head.

„These taste so good, I swear.“

Next up is Felix who has to carefully maneuver the sweet treats into your mouth without spoiling your outfit.

„If you get crumbs into my cleavage, I can’t put your face in there later you know.“

Fierce nodding.

„That’s the spirit.“

Under your eagle eyes, he proves to be an obedient little cherub doing his job pretty well. The cakes are delicious in how spongy they are, and the liquid chocolate warms up so well on the tongue, it melts even more. You’re more than pleased and have Felix store away the remaining four pieces only after quite a while.

„I’ll have them for Brekkie, woo!“ is what he’s fast to proclaim, and you agree he’ll need them the next morning. Once you’re done with him, that’s gonna count as a hangover even Chan’s wildest party couldn’t give him.

„We’re talking dinner first, Felix.“

At this point, all the sugar is kicking in. Or it’s the chocolate being some kind of aphrodisiac. Whatever, could be either, you’re feeling like you’re up there at the ceiling, and you’re not the only one. Felix coming back to the bedroom so bouncy and cutieful just gets you even more in the mood.

You sit at the edge of the bed, slanting backward just a little. „You look like you need some more corruption, I won’t lie,“ you pat your lap, beckoning. He can ditch wifi because this is his favorite hot spot waiting for him. Felix sits down looking tiny as ever, eyes full of anticipation and his pants full of… big fat late night erection.

„I don’t mind at all, Miss. I don’t, oh my god…“ he mumbles into his nonexistent Aussie trucker beard, and you’re clear that whatever the skirt did to him, his brain must be doing kangaroo somersaults right now. In the meantime, something very eager is poking right at your lower belly. Captain Boomerang already came fully armed tonight and the Suicide Squad isn’t even anywhere near to be seen.

„Oh hey hey, cupcake. Getting really big there,“ you wipe at the curled little corners of his mouth. Some crumbs come off. His lips already twitch the way you know they want to do naughty things on you. He doesn’t seem to notice. Autopilot Felix has already taken over.

„Don’t hurry with it,“ he stares, mouth half-open, but his little grinds prove him a dirty — in an entirely direct sense — fucking liar. Like he’s literally rubbing himself against your stomach.

„Boy oh boy. You’re not even trying.“

„I’m fucked!“ is what Felix soon realizes with the daggers you’re shooting at him through your hopefully very satanic-looking eyes right now. Alongside catching up with his darn hips doing their own thing.

„You are.“

„I’m sorry for grinding, God help me!“

„He won’t. Cuz I’m here on your cloud. Cue stage number two of my demonic plan. Safeword?“

„It’s chocolate!“

„Mh. Good pick.“

The rest as usual. Tapping the thigh, yellow for pause, towels plus water ready, and always double-checking the lube in case of Jisung putting a glass of vegemite under your bed as his latest practical joke. Yes, it happened. It’s a whole new level of demonic. On the other hand: perhaps Felix’ ass could’ve actually handled it, Made in Australia it is. 

„Let’s go honey angel,“ you curl at his hair with a little finger just to tease him a little more. The answer is a little meow, at this point Felix’ communication skills have simplified to kitten vocabulary which always happens when he is nervous and looking forward to something.

Next thing poor Felix knows, his face has entered the scorching satanic abyss that is your cleavage. Literally, you’re burning up. It’s fucking October and Felix has you breaking a sweat from all your horniness (literally, your horns are just that chic) already. Twice the reason to punish the shit out of him. If that can be considered anything near a punishment.

A shower of various „Mh— nh!“ and mewling noises comes to rain down on you while Felix face takes a trip down mammary lane, and that, too, is literal. He’s salivating. So much about rain. Actually, great lubrication. Felix always does things best by instinct.

„Yes, good boy. Great job.“

Now that his mouth is wet already, you’re unceremonious about shoving your fingers right down his throat after he resurfaces. Blushed, hard, and ready to choke himself since he’s already running short on breath. It doesn’t take long until he’s gagging himself stupid and the sparkles under his eyes start running.

„Pretty, pretty,“ you lean down a little, kissing his nose. „Give me all you got.“

„Gh—gch—“

The answer is as slobbery and unintelligible as can be. To a normal human, at least. You’re a demonic top. That automatically means having an Ivy League major in gag noise translation.

„Oh yes, I know,“ you stroke his hair, using your free hand that usually rests at the back of his neck. „Talk to me about it. Exactly what I was thinking. Do go on.“

And he does, louder than ever. If there’s one satisfying sound, it’s this, that heavenly deep voice doing all kinds of nasty acrobatics is making you go crazy. That Felix is absolutely close to cumming in his angel pants is very much clear to you given how the veins and muscles on his neck are having a chaotic Halloween party on their own.

Which includes his tongue taking turns on your two fingers as well. And a wide-eyed Felix struggling, swallowing, holding on to your shoulders with his little feet twitching in their sneakers. Like mad… and you love it. But also — hopelessly sucking and moaning and slurping and squealing until his neck has way too much saliva on it for you not to make it your next target. Felix is so good at this. Way too good.

„Looks delicious,“ you lean in, your hair tickles his ears. And now, you’re busy nibbling, biting a little… and most importantly, giving Felix a wet hickey that will send his makeup artist — my God, you really torture the unsuspecting man almost weekly — into a meltdown. Rowdy and unholy is the look you’re going for.

In the meantime, Felix is still wrapped up trying to hit your fingers at the back of his throat. If his cute bouncy run and rude boner moment didn’t turn you on already, now you would be. The way he’s just sucking in his own spit makes you realize that you won’t ever need a fire brigade for your flat.

You emerge from his neck and raise your brows. Felix is just hard-wired to impress. „Just how much saliva can you produce!“

„Ch… Mnh— Nh…“

Hitting some more complex syntax and consonants there, is he.

„Oh, I get it now. You stayed hydrated during the day. Thanks for explaining, mate. That’s the secret.“

Whether that’s perfectly scientifically correct down to the enzyme theory and shit neither of you can google right now. At least you know that you’re both drenched on either end so that’s that.

Once Felix is so horny from deepthroating your damn hand that he has pull off and yellow-word, you’re already prepared for introducing a new position which you can prepare while he’s gathering himself and wiping off his chin. You hand him a second towel for his neck, and present him a little hand mirror to see how the hickey turned out.

„It’s shaped like, hm,“ he pants, words still slurring a little. „I dunno! It’s really cute!“

„Let me see… No doubt that’s a rice cake hickey. That’s the shape.“

„You’re right!“

And off he goes snapping a selfie with it while you get comfortable on your back, cleaning your own fingers.

„Just don’t upload that one to Insta instead of the cloud shots, we’re not gonna survive another Manager call at 1:15 AM.“

„Can I use your phone for it? That’s where it’s supposed to be on, anyway.“

Felix giggles a little. That cute brat. Always knowing how it’s done.

„Sure babe!“

And voilà, Felix is already occupied setting a good view of his new rice cake-shaped friend as your phone background. Good thing, helps his erection cool down a little, he was about to blow up his poor white pants. The acceptable unfair feat being that he’s just riling you up even more like that on the other hand.

„If you come to mommy now,“ you wriggle one foot in the air, the other splayed on the duvet, knee slightly bent. „Rubbing her pussy and doing your thing, you know how it goes.“

„Angel duties calling! What am I doing!“

At the speed of sound, Felix stores your phone back on the bedside table and crawls over in an instant. He props his chin on your abdomen and blinks.

„Sorry Ma’am. At your service. Never wanna keep you waiting.“

A big smile rouses his cheeks, and you boop them from either side. His peach fuzz is so soft and his eyes are so beautifully dark. You don’t waste any time keeping your skirt down for any longer. Another blink and Felix is already pawing — well, kneading and caressing technically — between your legs. He’s visibly understanding just how wet the whole finger sucking circus has left you now.

„What if I used my heels on your cock, boo. Still no cumming. Just my heels and my lil’ prince.“

Satanic plan stage number three. Felix has gotten to savor it last Christmas and for his birthday, and some time around the holidays in summer.

„I love it yay!“ Felix claps his hands. Baby, baby.

„C’mere then. Just keep on rubbing.“

His arms are fairly long enough. While you’re dragging the slender heels of either shoe right across the outlines on his crotch, Felix, eyes loosely closed, maintains a steady rhythm on your clit with three fingers lined up on the fabric of your panties.

„Oh fucking hell, Felix, shit—“

Whenever you masturbate, that alone would never do. You’d get frustrated after a while. Need more stimulation. But when Felix is on angel duty to keep your pussy soaked, it doesn’t need much to make your clit throb, even with your underwear still on. Guess that God’s little helpers know how to work their magic to make your head spin.

He’s hitting the right spot, with the right moves, and his other hand doesn’t miss out on a single opportunity to stroke at both the in- and outside of your thighs. The touch is so subtle, you twitch. Felix strokes on, delirious himself. His eyelids flutter.

„Fuck…“

Despite the little pause from earlier taking out most of his tension, your heels leave Felix with pants that are even more bulged out. That’s making it easy to direct your feet to jerk up and down at either side. You’d never know either of you would be so into this. Foot fetish and all.

Once he’s edged you to the point of moans, last thing you properly remember is calling it quits with the panties and telling him to line himself up. The heels kicked off, the skirt still on, you decide that unpacking your Halloween treat has been long overdue. You slide his pants down, roll down a pink condom, and grab his cock at the base to glide it all over your wet lips.

„Lix, come fuck me. You got me all horny. Satan is recruiting.“

„With me it’s not sinning,“ he smiles, brighter than the sun and you do right along. It’d be hard not to. Felix truly has the innocence of a virgin, the subtle confidence of an intermediate, the caution of a pro, and the kindness of a real veteran.

„You’re right about that Felix,“ you say, prop your entrance at the very tip, let the wetness do its job. „Come kiss your honey girl.“

And he does. Entering you with care for the right angle, letting your hip do the rest. What’s been circling and sucking your fingers so deliciously is now doing a hot job teasing and pleasing your tongue all over. His lips are amazingly soft and plump, they open so gently and feel electric on yours. A gentle squeeze around your left breast sparks a moan into the kiss from you. It’s Felix massaging your breasts while deepening his penetration, and you can tell the vegemite can stay under the bed today. You can tell Felix is getting more than flustered knowing it was all him who made you this dripping wet.

Even his dick seems to blush in sync. It’s fucking pink and red. Oh wait, that’s the condom. But knowing him and from your viewpoint, it’s still more flushed than before, no kidding. Faithfully pumping in and out of you at its full length now. You wrap your legs around his waist, the thrusts become deeper, shorter, parting you open much more, and filling you out so properly.

„So good. Right there, angel. Just right there. I’m loving that.“

Felix has a great dick. Best handy size, the girth’s comfortable, all nice and bendy, virtually no curve, you can always gyrate on it in any way and even take a complete 180 if you go from cowgirl to reverse (which you’d be doing right now but he’d crush his wings if he were on his back like that so no). Cherry on top, compact but soft balls that don’t steal the show but still do the trick during doggy. They’re whipping up the best cum in the world, so.

The slow kissing goes on and on and Felix tries to walk the tightrope of neither letting your pussy lips suck the orgasm out of him, nor making you cream his cock with shaky legs from all that gorgeous sloppy friction, and the kissing, and his sweet cherry shampoo scent that has your brain in absolute limbo.

With everything hanging by a thread like that, every kiss becomes special and full of a suspense that makes your lips tremble — either set, and Felix can hardly bear it himself.

His little halo is dangling back and forth, and you can tell by his face that all that thrusting has him in serious trouble. And you? Are fucking leaking and groaning, and that little shallow series of first contractions before your orgasm is already preparing you.

The sugar high from the cupcakes is fading, but your adrenaline is sure to replace it. You just want Felix to fuck you more and rock against him, and hold his head, and kiss him. God, his mouth is so warm and inviting, tastes so good like cocoa.

The pace joins yours without any effort, it adapts when your rhythm changes, and it stabilizes everything when you’re currently riding the high of his cock really filling you out so you can clench your muscles around him, feel him and tell him just you wait, I’ll milk you. He’s such a good kisser. You can feel all of your wetness running down your ass like it’s Christmas.

„Felix, I’m overflowing.“

„I’m so sorry,“ he whines into the kiss. „I’ll be washing the sheets.“

„Listen, baby,“ you break the tongue-on-tongue, „you doing laundry is really sexy. But the overflow is the best part. Just look what you’re doing to my body.“

You could ravage him on the spot. He’d probably lose it and cum in two seconds. Holding yourself before the edge is so tough right now.

„Shit… yellow again. Need a moment.“

Felix has to resort to a bit of cockwarming, and you use the little break to rid yourself off the harness. It’s not perfectly comfortable when you’re lying down. You’re about to fling it off the bed that Felix asks to wear it. Oh. Very well. It actually goes as a nice contrast on his white top, and the straps make it easy to adjust to him. And he wants it to sit on him really tightly. Oh again.

You realize—

On you, it’s only a fashion piece. Something random that came with the costume.

On him: It’s kinky.

„Hey hey. You look sexy, pum’kin,“ you pat at his chest. „Look at your waist, wow.“

Your sweet boy. It’s like it’s made for him. So cinched and the exact opposite of his costume. He’s a corrupted, dirty angel now, it’s perfect. With his pink neck and all sweaty face, and his little puppy gaze that will haunt you in your sex dreams because it literally just gets into your pants so much. Oh god, you just wanna cum. You have to distract yourself with chaste images of Felix washing the dishes or writing grocery lists with little hearts and emojis on them but that just makes it five times worse.

The way he puts the harness on with his dick inside you is so mouthwatering and cumworthy, you can’t wait to resume and switch your own brains off on that angel cock. Once Felix is ready to exit phase yellow and resume the session, your hands magically gravitate towards the straps of the harness at this waist.

„Can I?“

„M—hm!“

You have the time of your life grabbing and guiding him by the harness, controlling every thrust. Felix clenches up his teeth from how lavishly his cock is squeezing into your pussy.

„Oh babe,“ you groan out. „Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me. Come on, angel.“

He’s not going to take it much longer. Felix is tensing all over, neck to the knees, it’s a huge shock wave in the making. That climax is going to be like a fucking punch into outer space.

„I’m really at my limit, I’m, I’m…!“

„Cum for me, angel,“ you reach to his neck to bring his lips down again. Your mouths going into shaky contact brings a big soaring moan with it.

„Ahn—!“

You lock lips, his face scrunches up, and you can tell that cum worth of three orgasms is currently pooling into the condom. You don’t belong to the mile high club, but going by how far up this feels, you might as well be. Those sweet shivers. And the little whines. It’s all too much for him, this one got him bad. Felix cumming is like the angels really are singing. With bells and harps and all that shit at once.

After pulling out, the ruined condom goes off lightning fast. Felix’ cock gets some much-needed cooling, but his face is on heavy duty. How he does it after almost getting his lights turned off, it’s a mystery, it must have been six whole loads he shot into you. You’d already be collapsing in his shoes. Felix still being able to put his mouth to work is an act of divine intervention. Honestly though, it doesn’t even take half a minute. Sloppy head from Felix is cryptonite, your stamina comes tumbling down. His tongue just knocks you out with an overwhelming rush of pleasure.

“Oh— yes...”

What is gravity? You don’t know what north and south mean anymore. He laps and sucks you through your high and your legs give up their soldier service. All you see it fluffy blonde strands of hair peeking from below your skirt, a glimpse of the harness, the rest is heavy growling and swearing from all of the contractions and Felix getting raw and dirty Down Under with no fears, literally none, to bury his face and move it around and let his tongue loose. Time and again Felix shows you he’s a swallower. Satanic agenda: success.

For tonight, your pussy will be nothing but glitter, cum, and spit. Swollen like crazy, properly fucked, and tipped to the absolute limit. Felix keeps on slicking up his face completely, and then brings you into the afterglow with his fingers. One at a time, barely adding stimulation. Just fetching you where you are and climbing down. Looks like you’ll share the cupcakes, this is a couple hangover in the making. In Felix’ case in particular. It’s like he signed up for testing a mad scientist’s latest designer drug.

„Wow wow… So you served me choco cupcakes and God’s menu,“ is the last thing he can say in his delirium before falling over. He’s so fucked out and went so wild on eating you, a part of the harness came off. Thank god his nose is so small, all that swiping could’ve broken the bridge and whatnot. And his lips, they’re twice as plump. You really have to compliment in on what his mouth has done today because that was some champ shit.

You’re both buffering on the sheets for a solid five minutes until you roll to the side. Towel… water… forehead kisses. Yes, forehead kisses most importantly. After gathering yourself a little, you pamper Felix into a heart rate around 90 rather than 120. And with the onset of exhaustion for the two of you, that’s not too hard after some minutes passing. Whispering sweet nothings and praise is all you do up until 2 AM and after. Felix is somewhere between worlds, one foot in the door of the dreamland, the other soaking up the care and the intoxicating, thick scent of the room that has a lot of cherry shampoo in it.

At some point. You loosen the harness, pull off his shirt with the wings attached. The halo you unsuccessfully try to spot in his hair. Turns out: It flew off. Felix really must’ve made Satan proud if it fell down just like that. Good job. Felix has earned a title of being a dirty angel now, and by the way he’s chugging water now, a wet one on top of that.

Five tons of spit, six, seven, who knows how many he’s afforded for today. A head pat is not enough, it has to be several, and Felix passes out onto the pillows. As good as you can, you wipe him down, bin the condom, get off his shoes and his half-pulled down trousers. After staggering to the bathroom, your skirt and peplum shirt follows, the stockings stay on, they’re cozy as hell. Last but not least, you remove your devil horns. It feels like they granted you the most unknown demonic powers.

Next time Felix is on his way to making you cum again, you’ll be wearing them, and you’ll last the way you did tonight. Meanwhile, Bang Chan is blowing up your phone because Felix pressed send by accident earlier, but you don’t notice. It just keeps on vibrating on the bedstand and Chris will have to riddle over the rice cake selfie for the rest of November.

Felix dozes with an angelic little smile on his lips and puffs his cheeks in his sleep, his makeup wiped and his hair truly messy. Instagram can wait. Maybe you’ll get to brush your teeth a little later, it usually takes some time until you wake up again and topple to the sink. You huddle together, tuck your sweet baby pum’kin into his second favorite spot at your chest. Ah, the glory of Felix little spooning.

As the last signature, you nibble at his ear, call him your cutie pie, and switch the lights off. You have to listen closely but if you do, it’s like Felix is purring in his sleep. Whatever your own dreamland is planning to launch on you tonight, you’re looking forward to it.

© 2017-2020 submissive-bangtan. all rights reserved. reposts, modifications and translations are prohibited. character depictions are fictional & for entertainment purposes only.

PS — oh, my good ole fellas, a last cursed disclaimer. i must insist on the following for obvious reasons. vegemite makes for some terrible strap lube okay 😂🇦🇺

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[let-it-raines]

Mistress of the Sea (3/3)

He comes into the tavern whenever he's docked in Misthaven, always following his crew and settling down at the table in the center of the room, ordering a rum before falling into telling a rousing story that has the entire room roaring with laughter. It's like that for years, and Emma gets used to watching Captain Killian Jones in his element on land, idly wondering what he must be like when at sea. They speak to each other, enough to know names and to be comfortable in conversation, but he's rarely around long enough for her to truly know him, his mistress of the sea always calling him home. 

And yet he always returns to Emma.

Rating: Mature (mostly this part)

A/N: I literally have no idea where part three of this came from, but here it is! I was saving it for an event posting later this month, but since I have something else for that now, I figured why not share it now?

You don’t need to have read the first two parts to understand, but they do help💜

Found on AO3: Beginning | Current

Tumblr: Part One | Part Two | Part Three

Tag list (those of you who liked the first two parts): @juneqparis @darkcolinodonorgasm @effulgentcolors @xemmaloveskillianx @spartanguard @jonirobinson64 @jennjenn615 @hookedonhiddles @resident-of-storybrooke @bmbbcs4evr @kmomof4 @shireness-says @scientificapricot @onceuponaprincessworld @badwolfandtimelords @nikkiemms @sarart13 @jamif @facesiousbutton82 @emmythedaydreamer @wellhellotragic @captainsjedi @thejollyroger-writer @galaxyzxstark @mayquita @captswanis4vr @a-faekindagirl

-/-

“You need more rum.”

“Alright.”

“And whiskey.”

“I’ve got it.”

“And I think the sheets upstairs need to be replaced soon as well.”

Emma scribbles the words down on her parchment, the ink of her pen marking her fingertips, before bending down to brush a kiss across Oliver’s cheek, making his cheeks redden in a way that’s only obvious because he’s been cursed (or blessed according to his father) with her pale skin and scattered freckles. He’s the most handsome seven-year-old boy in all of the kingdoms with his dirty blonde hair and bright blue eyes, eyelashes as long as she wishes hers were, and a gap-toothed smile that makes her days every time she elicits one from him.

For someone who was never sure that she wanted to be a mother, her son makes her question that train of thought every single day, even on the days where he refuses to eat his dinner and disobeys her orders.

Meeting Killian and falling in love with him in this tavern over months and years changed everything for her, and the kid helping her take stock of the tavern is just one of the many tangible things that prove that.

The small toddler with dark black hair and blue eyes, tanned skin with no freckles to be seen, walking between the tables talking to the dwarves is another one of those proofs.

Her little Maribel.

“Mummy,” Oliver sighs, his shoulders shrugging as he hops up onto the countertop despite how many times she has told him not to do that, “can we have dinner soon?”

“Ruby is making you something.”

“Ruby doesn’t make good food.”

Emma rolls her eyes, unable to stop herself, before she adjusts her trousers on her waist, the pants far too big for her now, and reaches over to pick Oliver up and place him back on the ground. The children spend their days with her in the tavern when they’re not at the school building or at home with Killian, and considering it is the summer holidays and Killian is somewhere miles and miles away, they’ve been constants at her sides. She doesn’t mind. She quite likes that she gets to spend time with them, especially because Oliver truly is such a big help. He gets his meticulousness from his father, and even when it drives her into madness, she loves the way that both he and Killian will sit outside of their front door at the cottage and straighten the fence posts or the way that Oliver will arrange Killian’s novels in his quarters on the Jolly.

Thinking of his captain’s cabin, thinking of the small bed with a warm quilt and soft pillows and the gentle rocking of the waves makes her heart ache with missing him. It’s almost unbearable some nights, her heart and mind attacking her wondering where her husband is, if he’s safe, if he’s coming home soon, if he’s coming home at all. She’s always been an independent person because of her lack of upbringing, someone who never relied on others, and while she gets on just fine without Killian home, she wants him home.

Or she wants to be out at sea with him.

Wherever he is, she would like to be there as well and be by his side every single day.

Life isn’t quite the same without him flirting with her while she works – he often pretends that they haven’t been married to each other for eight years now whenever his crew visits the tavern, and when he does this, he flirts with her much more openly and with more explicit detail than he ever did when he was her patron – or taking the children fishing and teaching them to read in the daylight hours. Her life is fuller with him and the crinkles around his eyes that she likes to trace in the early morning light. He often smiles at her, a crooked little thing, and then leans forward so that his lips can connect with every bit of skin that she has.

Her husband is a man who has killed, who has stolen, who has scars from life that he has taken and given, but in the mornings when the warm sunlight shines through the window in their bedroom and he’s smiling at her how he does, she can see nothing but love in the blue of his eyes.

The blue that is full of a lifetime spent on the ocean and yet is infinitely better than the sea in every conceivable way.

“There’s not a day will go by I won’t think of you.”

“Good.”

Her heart aches for the blue, and even the exact substitute that she sees in the eyes of her children cannot replicate it.

The glint isn’t quite right.

She would know. She can see those eyes even when her eyes are closed and darkness surrounds her.

“Ruby makes perfectly good food,” she tells Oliver, placing her hands on her hips and staring down at him with squinted eyes that she knows make him listen. “Why don’t you go help her cook? She’s always telling me that you’re her favorite partner.”

“Even more than Maribel?”

“Only because you can reach the shelves.”

Oliver nods his head and darts past her and back into the kitchen. Ruby is most definitely going to despise her for sending Oliver back there when she’s trying to finish baking the bread for tonight as well as cooking a stew for them. If Ruby didn’t love them the way that she does, and maybe if she didn’t need the extra help, Emma knows that she would not have this job to return to whenever she’s home in Misthaven for long enough periods of time to need to work to fill her days and her coin purse.

(Ruby has been her closest friend for over a decade now, and under no circumstances would she ever ask her to leave the tavern even if she’s not the most reliable barmaid. Her children and husband? Yes. Her? No.)

“Oi,” Leroy calls out from his spot in the corner, several ale mugs already in front of him, “yer wee lassie is climbing up my boots, Mistress Jones.”

“Maribel,” Emma calls out, already walking out from behind the bar to cross the old wooden planks that need to be swept again. “Maribel, darling, don’t climb on Leroy’s boots.”

“Papa’s boots.”

Her eyes glance down at Leroy’s boots, and while they don’t truly resemble Killian’s, she can see how someone who is not yet three could get them confused with the boots her Papa wears. Killian’s left a pair sitting just inside the entrance to their cottage, and Maribel passes by them, nearly right at her eye level, every time she so much as enters the main part of their cottage.

Her heart could not possibly ache any more than it already does tonight.

“My darling,” she sighs, bending down and scooping Maribel up into her arms so that she rests at her hip, “those are like Papa’s boots, aren’t they? I think Papa’s feet may be too big to fit in them though.”

“No,” she giggles, her eyes scrunching up like Killian’s do.

Heartache.

“Oh, I think so. Papa has the largest feet you’ll ever see. Larger than even a giant.”

“Papa is small.”

“I think you and I are not talking about the same man here, my love.”

“Wench,” a man huffs, his voice dripping with disdain, “I didn’t come here tonight to watch you coddle your bastard. I’m out of rum. Fetch me some more.”

Anger bubbles up under her skin, the desire to reach into the strap inside of her trousers and grab her knife just at the surface. They get assholes in here every now and then, travelers from outside of town and drunks who don’t know any better, and she’ll never not be someone who rises up in defense of her children. She has made plenty of mistakes in her life, Killian too, but their children deserve no hatred.

None.

“Get out of here, you buffoon,” Ruby shouts, coming out of the kitchen with Oliver at her heels. Emma knows that the word buffoon was simply because children are around, and Emma both loves her and hates her for it when the man is a fucking asshole.

“Why the hell should I listen to you, bitch?”

There’s a collective murmur around the tavern, a familiar one really, and Emma grabs Oliver’s hand and tugs him along with her to get out of the way. Graham and Anton will be inside in a minute, the two of them usually making their way inside when there’s a commotion, but in all honesty, Ruby doesn’t need them to handle men like this.

“Well,” she scowls, stepping up to him, “for one, I own this tavern, and I only serve who I want. Secondly,” she holds up a finger as she gets closer, their height discrepancy lessened by the height of Ruby’s confidence, “I know how to use any and all weapons. And finally, and I think you might like this one best, the woman whose child you just called a bastard, is Captain Killian Jones’s wife.” His face pales, and Emma can barely hide her snicker. “Ah, so you know who he is then? I imagine you do, and I imagine you’ll want to leave now and strongly consider never coming back. The Captain is here most nights. I believe he’ll be in later tonight, but he had some business to attend to.”

If the man had a tail like a dog, it’d surely be stuck between his legs as he nearly runs out of the tavern, his hip bumping into tables and knocking over chairs. Emma suspects that’s all intentional, especially when he slams the door with such ferocity that the entire building shakes, but when it all settles down, all of their patrons break out into laughter, the sounds of joy coming back to the Mistress of the Sea.

“You have too much fun pulling that line,” Emma sighs at Ruby as the woman walks toward she and the children.

Ruby smirks, something so similar to Killian that she wonders if all of the people in her life have the ability to do that or if she’s starting to imagine things. “It’s too damn entertaining. Even if your husband wasn’t a seafaring man with good looks you hear stories about, you marrying him would be worth it simply to terrify folks like that.”

“Why would someone be scared of Papa?” Oliver asks innocently. “He’s not scary.”

“That’s because he loves you, kid. Your Papa would go to the ends of the earth to protect us, and sometimes that means he scares people.”

“I don’t believe it.”

“I wouldn’t suspect that you do.”

The rest of the night passes quickly, the tavern rather subdued, and she leaves Ruby and Ashley to take care of things as she walks the children home, Maribel sleeping on her shoulder and Oliver holding her hand as they walk down beaten, sand-filled paths. She knows this walk like the back of her hand, and even if they do live a few minutes too far from the tavern and the docks, she likes the way their cottage is secluded enough for them to have safety and privacy, as well as their own strip of sand. The sea breeze wafts past her nose, salt in the air surrounding them, and the smell relaxes her as she opens the front door to the cottage and sends Oliver off to his room to change into his sleep clothes as she lights the lanterns so that they have more light than the simple moonlight.

She’ll bathe the children in the morning and wash all of their clothes, but she’s simply too tired to do all of that right now.

By the light of the lantern, she reads Oliver and Maribel one of their stories, softly recreating the voices of different characters. She can’t do it quite like Killian can, but she likes to think that she’s gotten better. The complaints have certainly lessened.

Maribel falls asleep first, Oliver soon after, and she closes the book and blow out the lantern light before kissing each of their foreheads and closing their bedroom door so that she can move to her own bedroom, changing out of her clothes and into one of Killian’s shirts. She has her own nightgowns, pretty ones that Killian brings home for her, but she likes the way Killian’s shirts fall across her thighs and keep her mostly covered but also cool during summer nights.

She swears that it still smells like him too, and that makes it all the better.

Her hair takes far too long to brush out, and sometimes she’s tempted to cut it more and make it more manageable, but she knows that she’d miss the plaits she can do with it and how Killian runs his fingers through it when they’re talking. It’s a part of her, and once it is smoothed out, she finds that she doesn’t hate it so much.

She loves it.

And she loves how easily she falls into slumber that night when she’s been struggling with sleeping lately.

-/-

There’s a creak against the floorboard, and Emma’s eyes immediately open as she quickly sits up and reaches for the knife that she keeps underneath the bed. Her heart is beating far too quickly to be healthy, and she’s ready to fight whoever has invaded their home in the darkness of the night.

Or not.

Because standing above her is the man whose blue eyes she’s been dreaming about.

The dreams don’t do them justice.

“Killian,” she breathes out on a sigh, dropping her weapon to the floor so that it clatters against the wood. It takes less than two seconds for her to rise from the bed and launch herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist and…he’s so solid against her, warm and firm and feeling just like he did when he left. And he smells like he did, inviting and salty with the smallest hint of leather. His hands are welcomed and rough as they move up her bare thighs, holding her up against him, and she can feel her heart still beating wildly in her chest. And she can also feel his as the proof that he’s very much full of life. “Hi, my love.”

“Hello, Swan,” he chuckles into her neck, his breath hot in a way that sends shivers down her spine and his accent so damn pleasant that a sob gets caught in her throat, “I’m glad you decided to embrace me instead of killing me.”

“I thought you were an intruder.”

“I know I’ve been gone for a good while, but I wouldn’t think that your husband is an intruder. Don’t you remember me?”

Emma unburies her face from his neck so that she can look at his face in an attempt to soak all of this in and prove that she’s not dreaming. It’s difficult to see in the dim light, but she can see enough to look at his tanned skin and the thick stubble that resides along his jaw and over his lips. He hasn’t shaved in what looks like weeks, and while she doesn’t dislike it, she much prefers when he’s close shaved, his stubble a pleasant scratch against her skin. He also hasn’t cut his hair, the dark fringe falling messily over his forehead, and she imagines she’ll be cutting it sometime tomorrow.

Tomorrow. He’ll be here tomorrow.

“I think you may need to remind me,” she murmurs before tilting her head forward and gliding her lips over his. He tastes of salt, but that’s not what she truly notices when she can feel the softness of his lips mixed in with the odd feeling of his beard. It’s slow, reverent, thorough, and she can’t stop moving her lips over his while never staying long enough in one spot to keep deepening the kiss.

There are too many places to kiss for her to stay in one place.

“I can do that, my mistress.”

“Can I be your mistress when I am your wife?”

“You will always be my mistress of the sea,” Killian whispers as he leans her forward and softly places her on the bed, the mattress soft against her back as her husband peppers kisses across her jaw while his hands slide up and down the outside of her thighs, pulling her shirt up to rest at her hips. “Have you been sleeping in my shirt this entire time, darling?”

“Some nights,” she answers honestly, tilting her neck to the side to give Killian access as he trails his lips across her skin, sending sharp shivers down her spine and causing heat to pool between her thighs. “Other nights in one of the nightgowns you’ve bought me, sometimes I’m wearing nothing at all.”

He squeezes her thighs then, and his fingers inch over them so that he’s brushing against the inside of her legs where she’s sensitive, the rough pads of his fingers bring her pleasure. “Why Mrs. Jones,” he mumbles into her ear, his beard still scratching at her skin in an unfamiliar way, “how scandalous. Don’t you know that it’s improper for you to wear nothing to bed? It is not the way of a lady.”

Emma chuckles, unable to help herself, and uses her hands to grab onto Killian’s cheeks and pull him to her so that she can see his eyes again and the little red mark on his cheek that she’s missed. Oh, and the quirked brow. She may have missed that most of all.

“Don’t you know?” she mock gasps, pressing a kiss to his scar. “I’ve never been a lady, but I truly ruined my reputation when I married a pirate of all things.”

“You’re my lady,” he says before he captures her mouth with his and presses his body weight further onto hers so that she can feel the hard lines of his stomach and the muscles of his thighs, the comforting weight that comes with him being on top of her. His kiss is somehow gentle and rough, possessive really, and the way that he’s running his tongue over the seam of her lips has her opening up to him so that their tongues can tangle together in a hot slide that has Killian groaning when she pushes her hips up to his to feel the friction that she wants, that she needs.

“You are my lady,” he pants again, pecking her lips before kissing the indent in her chin and moving down her neck to kiss the hollow of her throat. “And you are my mistress.” His lips run along her collarbone now, harshly biting down, and she gasps, pleasure and heat continuing to curl within her as gooseflesh rises on her skin. “And the mother of my beloved children.” He runs his tongue down the concave between her breasts. “My closest companion.” He noses away the fabric covering her now before lightly kissing a tightened nipple. “My wife.” Killian looks up at her now through his long, dark lashes, and she smiles down at him while her hand runs through his thick, soft hair that’s got bits of the sea situated in it. “You are my everything, and I have sailed all of the seas to come home to you.”

Then his tongue is circling her nipple and his teeth are biting down. Her hips arch up in response, and she can feel his growing hardness against her bare thigh. Every doctor in the realm would worry about her heart for the way that it’s beating within her chest, but there is nothing to worry about. She is simply in love with a man who is her everything as well.

She is in love with a man who is home.

The two of them have been intimate with each other for nearly a decade now, and while there are times when it is not necessarily thrilling, she knows from talking with other woman that their intimate times are not quite like what she has. Their husbands and lovers do not always take the time to bring them pleasure as Killian does with her, so she revels in the time that he spends lavishing her breasts, in the time that he spends with his dark head of hair buried between her thighs as he brings her pleasure that cannot be replicated by anything else in the world.

That’s always one of her favorite things.

But so is the way that Killian’s jaw clenches when her lips kiss at his hip, at the inked skin of her name written on his flesh, and how he arches his hips off of the bed when her fingers brush over his length in smooth motions that she knows that he enjoys. The curses that curl off of his tongue, deep and dark, stir her on as she takes him in her mouth and hums around him. There’s something wonderful about how much she can control his bliss, can bring him to feeling so wonderful, but then Killian is gently pulling on her hair to bring her away from him.

“Darling,” he pants, running his hands down her arms and squeezing her upper arms, “I love you, but I have been without you for seven weeks. I will burst if I am not inside you soon.”

She nods her head up and down before crawling up his body and settling herself over his hips, the tip of his cock brushing against the sensitive flesh between her thighs, and she slowly guides him into her so that he can stretch her, fill her, be within her, the two of them connected in every way.

“I love you,” she murmurs while starting to roll her hips. “I have missed you, have missed the feeling of you inside of me.”

“I have missed the feeling of being within you.” His fingers tug at the hem of her – his– shirt until it’s pulled above her shoulders, leaving her bare, and while one hand stays steady on her hip, the other comes to hold her breast. “You are so beautiful, my beloved.”

It’s a subtle, slow rocking of hips. She props her hands behind her back, fingers curling into the sheets, and Killian cants up into her to further sheath himself inside of her. They are experts in a quick fuck, in bringing each other pleasure as quickly as possible when they don’t have much time or the adrenaline is high after a dangerous night out on the waters, but they are moreover experts in relishing in the way that they join, in relishing in the way that their love allows them to fall apart slowly with stolen breaths and muttered words of love and affection.

Never again will she allow him to leave her for this long.

Never again.

It’s what she always says, every single time, and yet at least once a year, she has to watch him go. It’s the life of someone whose husband is meant to spend time on the ocean and with his crew. She cannot keep him with her, with their children, when there is a job to be done, a life to be lived, and what is seven weeks out of a long year when she gets a lifetime with this man?

Later, when they are both sated and there’s an ache between her thighs that she knows she will carry with her all of tomorrow, she curls into Killian’s side, her fingers tangling into the soft hair on his chest and her leg stuck between his calves. It’s perfect, especially with the way that Killian’s strong arm is wrapped around her shoulder and his fingers toy with the tips of her hair.

“Do the children look the same?” he ponders, pressing his mouth to her forehead and lingering there.

“Maribel’s hair has grown and gotten curlier, and I think she might be the slightest bit taller. Oliver is most definitely taller, and he’s lost some of his teeth. He looks ridiculous.”

Killian chuckles into her hair, and she feels his lips again. “Would I be horrible if I went to wake them up now so I can see them?”

She slaps his chest. “Yes! They already had a late night, and not even their Papa being home will wipe away their crankiness. Besides, I want you all to myself for as long as I can have you.”

It’s a quick tilt of her head upward to kiss his jaw before she settles back down against his shoulder.

“Will you take tomorrow off from the tavern? I think I’d like to have you and the children to myself as well. I don’t like traveling without you all.”

“I’m sure you and the crew get to have much more fun without all of us around.”

“Bloody hell, no, Emma. They all love you. It’s a bit disconcerting. It was just us for so long, but now, whenever we voyage without you, every man on that ship whines over not having you to talk with or to tell stories. I swear to you, darling, when I give an order, they look around for you like you are the Captain.”

“I always knew I had a commanding presence.”

“Aye, that’s very true. Scarlet has likely missed you as much as I have.”

“Good. I’ve missed him. The kids have too. I’m going to invite him to dinner when I next see him.”

“He’s already invited himself.”

She chuckles at that, burying her face into his shoulder and breathing in the salty smell of him, both the sea still on his skin as well as the sweat that formed during their lovemaking. “Are you going to tell me about your travels? Where did you go? Did you bring home any gold?”

“Ah, I knew you were only with me for my gold.” “You’ve foiled my plan.”

A sigh passes through his lips, and he straightens his shoulders, curling a bit more into her and tugging their quilt higher on the bed. “I will tell you everything you want to know, but Emma, I think I need you to tell me everything about your time here. I thought of you every day, and I want to make up for every moment that I’ve missed.”

-/-

When Emma wakes, the first thing she notices is the sunlight filtering through the window and the drapes, everything cast in a soft glow as her eyes adjust to yellow glow that’s brighter than she’s used to waking up to in the mornings. The second thing she notices is the lack of her husband in their bed, and when she runs her hand over the spot where he sleeps, it’s cold to the touch. For a moment, she worries once more that last night was a dream, that he’s not truly home, but the ache between her thighs and purpling bruise on her collarbone tell her otherwise.

Surely it was dreamy, but it was not a dream.

Slowly, she rises from the bed, moving over to her chest to find a shift to wear for this morning. She could get fully dressed, but since she doesn’t plan on leaving their cottage anytime soon, there is truly no point in wearing anything other than a pale blue shift that keeps her from walking around without clothes, which is perfectly fine with she and Killian, their children not so much.

The bedroom door is cracked when she goes to open it in search of Killian, and it doesn’t take long to find him. He’s sitting at the table, a plate of sausage and eggs in front of him that he must have gotten up and cooked, and Maribel is curled up in his lap with her arms wrapped around his stomach as much as she can reach and her unruly head of hair resting on his chest while she chews on a piece of bread. Oliver is sitting across from them, his hair sticking up in the back, and he’s very much eating off of Killian’s plate.

For as glad as she was to see Killian last night and as glad as she was to keep him to herself for a few hours, there are few sights like him sitting with his children listening to them talk over breakfast. It’s a routine in their life, one that happens whether they’re on land or sailing the seas, and it’s something that she didn’t know that she missed so damn much.

All of her loves in one place again. It’s the closest to perfection that life can get.

“And then,” Oliver gasps, his mouth very obviously full of food, “the man was loud with Mummy, but Aunt Ruby came out from the kitchen and told him that he couldn’t be mean to Mummy because you were going to show up.”

“Oh, was I going to protect Mummy then, lad?” Killian questions, raising a brow and winking so that she knows that he’s seen her this morning.

“Yes. You’re a pirate, so you have to protect Mummy and me and Maribel.”

“Is that what a pirate does?”

Oliver shrugs his shoulders. “Sometimes. You also drink lots rum and wear lots of jewelry with skulls on them.”

“Ah,” Killian sighs, spearing a piece of sausage with his fork and offering it to Maribel before he takes a bite out of it himself, “you are right on that, but I think you have more that you need to learn about being a pirate. I think I’ll have to take you and your sister to spend some more time on the Jolly Roger soon. Your bunk is waiting for you there.” “What?” Emma laughs, finally stepping away from the doorframe and walking toward her family, the wood cool beneath her feet. “Do I not get invited to spend time on the Jolly Roger and have pirate lessons?”

“You do, darling,” Killian smiles, tilting his head up so that she can press a kiss to his lips, one, two, three times. “Your bunk is waiting for you as well, preferably with me already in it.” He waggles his eyebrows at that, and she slaps his shoulder. The scoundrel. “But I think today I want to go to our beach and do a little swimming, maybe even some fishing, yeah?”

“Shells?” Maribel asks, looking up at Killian so that he can bop her nose.

“Aye, my little love, we can collect your shells as well. I have a jar of them that I’ve brought home for you to display above our fireplace.”

-/-

Emma’s knees are tugged up to her chest as she watches Killian and Oliver stand in the water with fishing poles in their hands. Killian has on a pair of old trousers that have been rolled up to his calves, but the water is still hitting them and soaking through the brown material. Those two have been standing in the water for nearly an hour now, and they haven’t caught a thing.

Not one.

And she’s not entirely sure why Killian hasn’t moved to another spot where the fish are more plentiful, but honestly, she thinks that it’s because Oliver keeps giggling and splashing about and Killian doesn’t care enough about catching them some dinner when their son is having such a good time.

(She doesn’t care either.)

“Mummy, look,” Maribel speaks quietly. She’s holding a handful of red and white shells, most of them unbroken but a few chipped on the sides.

“Those are beautiful, darling.” Emma holds her hand out to take them from Maribel so that she can carefully place them in the basket. “You’re doing so well in your collections. Papa is going to be so happy to see them.”

This gets a big grin out of Maribel, and Emma has to roll her eyes the slightest bit. The man leaves them for seven weeks, and yet he’s still got them wrapped around his finger.

(It’s the same with her.)

“We can keep them?”

“Yeah, kid, we can keep them. I’m going to put them in their home with all of the others.”

“I’m hungry.”

Emma laughs at the sudden change of subject, which is pretty common for this one, and she reaches forward to grab Maribel and start running her fingers over her stomach so that Maribel starts laughing in a fit of high-pitched giggles that could probably be captured in a jar and sold as pure joy.

“You’re hungry?” Emma teases, keeping her fingers moving as her daughter squirms. “What are we going to do about that, huh? I think we need to complain to your Papa and your brother that they aren’t catching us fish for dinner.”

“M-mummy,” Maribel squeals, her entire face scrunched up in laughter. “I want a sweet cake.”

“Maybe tomorrow, lovely,” Emma sighs, picking Maribel up and kissing her cheek. “Tomorrow we’ll go down to the docks and let Papa buy you a sweet cake, okay?”

Emma stands from the ground, the soft sand sinking below her feet, and picks Maribel up to rest on her hip while she walks the two of them out to the water, the bottom of her dress soaking with salt water. She needs to find some shorter pieces to wear when they’re on their secluded slice of the beach because there is really no other way to enjoy the ocean than letting it hit her bare skin as Killian swims around her.

“Darling,” Emma calls as she walks up to Killian and Oliver, “Maribel tells me that she’s ready for supper, and yet I don’t think the two of you have caught any fish.”

“Aye, well, the fish don’t seem to be as welcoming to my return as all of you are. Did you scare them off while I was away by telling them tall tales about me?”

“Papa, fish don’t talk,” Oliver corrects him.

“Fish talk like the ocean does, lad. Just because we do not speak their language does not mean they do not have one of their own.”

“I think you got too much sun on your trip, and now you’re crazy.”

She and Killian both snicker at Oliver’s words, the two of them unable to hide their laughs at him. Or rather with him. He’s such a smart child, one she cannot believe is her own, and one day she simply knows that he is going to grow up to be just like Killian.

They could all be so lucky.

-/-

“Should we move them to their beds?”

“Not now,” Emma sighs, leaning back into Killian’s chest and bringing his hands around her waist to rest on her stomach.

They came inside from the beach not an hour ago, staying out there much longer than anticipated when Killian and Oliver miraculously started to catch a few fish and then Maribel insisted that everyone continue to collect shells with her. All of their skin is a little darker than before and thankfully not red with burns, but Emma can tell that their children’s tiredness stems from a day out in the sunshine with little reprieve. It was wonderful in every conceivable way, but so is sitting in their den with Maribel and Oliver sound asleep on the plush rug while she and Killian sit together on their cushioned chair.

He may have spent most of his time today with their children, as he very well should have, but now that they are asleep, all of his attention is back to her, as it very well should be.

At least for these few moments.

Killian sighs behind her, and she feels his lips press into the skin at her shoulder, his nose moving away the fabric of the nightgown she’s changed into. “They are so wonderful. I never thought – after I lost Liam and Milah, I never thought that I would want to have children or would want to bring them into this world, but I cannot thank you enough for giving them to me.”

Her heartbeat stutters as emotion lodges itself in her throat, and all she can do is lean back further into his chest and squeeze his hands over where they reside on her stomach.

“It was a team effort, but since I did do most of the work, I will take that compliment.”

Killian laughs behind her, his entire chest moving with it so that she moves too. “No one in all of the realms has a wife with as much humor with you, I swear to it. I have asked hundreds of men.”

“You are ridiculous.”

“You are impossible.”

“And you love me for that.”

“Aye,” he mumbles, kissing her shoulder again while his nails trace patterns into her stomach and over her wrists, “I do. I love you and every part of your past and present that makes up who you are. I spent so many nights in my quarters wishing that I had you beside me in bed or that you were sitting at the table reading a book that you’ve already read many times over. I simply want to be beside you at all times, even when you are cross with me, and not having you with me nearly killed me. Every tavern the crew went into was wrong because you were not serving us our drinks and telling stories. Every beach I went to was empty because I didn’t have you to swim with me or the children to collect shells with me. You have changed every facet of my life, and I sometimes I feel inadequate in that I am not as nearly wonderful to you as you are to me.”

“Killian,” she immediately whispers before tilting her head back to kiss at his jaw. Her mind is still trying to wrap around all of his words, of the emotions behind them all, but she does not need time to know that the last little bit is utterly and completely false. “You are my everything, and it’s my wish that you never feel inadequate in how much you mean to me, to us. You are the one who has changed every facet of my life, who takes me on great adventures and shows me how much of the world that there is to discover, but in truth, I need nothing more than for you to hold me as we fall asleep or for you to make me laugh at any and all times of the day. Right now, right here, you are giving me more than enough by simply being who you are.”

His head nods behind her, the scruff of his newly shaven beard pleasantly scratching against her skin, and his warmth radiates over every inch of her body, embracing her as he does.

“I love you, my beloved, and I promise to hold you just like this for as long as I can as I do not have any inclination as to why I should let go.”

Emma closes her eyes and takes hold of his hands once more, bringing his knuckles to her lips so that she can brush a kiss over each one.

She’s never letting go either.

[canid-slashclaw]

The Outliers - A Guild Wars Love Story

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9,  Chapters 10 and 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14, Chapter 15, Chapter 16 , Chapter 17, Chapter 18, Chapter 19, Chapter 20,  Chapter 21, Chapter 22, Chapter 23,  Chapter 24, Chapter 25, Chapter 26, Chapter 27 Chapter 28

Amalthia awoke to find herself alone in bed. By Kaleb's pillow, was a note that read - meet me by the river at the edge of Thunderfalls. Bring your swimming goggles too. She was well aware of the significance of the place, but was puzzled by her mate's sudden disappearance.

Still shaking off the effects of the hangover, Amalthia cleaned up, got dressed then headed out to Kessex Hills. It took her the better part of the morning to reach her final destination. When she got there she noticed a trail of freshly plucked petals leading up to the falls. She followed the trail until it ended just at the edge of the river.

When she looked across the river, she noticed Kaleb was standing there holding something in his hands that she could not quite make out. She began leaping onto the larger rocks, being careful to avoid losing her footing, lest she become swept up in the current. Her mate started to cross the river as well.

Rushing torrents of water surrounded the pair, as they stood just mere yards from the edge of the falls. Kaleb jumped up onto the same rock she was standing on and reached for her hands.

"Sorry for the goose chase. But I thought this would be as good a spot as any," he said as he held her close.

"So long as there is a goose to chase then I suppose it's all worth the trouble. Just what are you scheming, you silly little goose?" She quipped.

Kaleb looked at her with a frown. "I thought I was a mouse?"

She chuckled and stroked his long brown hair. "Mouse, goose. Whichever fits the mood, I suppose."

"You remember the significance of this place. I figure now would be as good a place as any to do this," Kaleb said as he looked into her amber eyes and held her hands firmly.

Amalthia's ears flicked as she returned the gaze and smiled. "Why do I get the feeling you are about to do something crazy."

"Because I'm crazy for you!" Kaleb knelt down on the flattened rock, pulled out the wooden box from his coat then opened it as he held it up to Amalthia.

"Amalthia Steelblade of the Blade warband. My life, my love. Would you bestow upon me the honor of being my wife?"

By this time, she understood the significance of human bonding rituals. So much so that she even became quite thrilled to be a part of them.

"That rock clay is going to leave a permanent stain on your pants. It will take me forever to wash it out," she said laconically.

"Okay now. I'm gushing my heart out and you're worried about my pants?" Kaleb said with a hint of a smirk.

"Get up you silly, mouse. Yes! The answer is yes. I would happily be your wife!" She pulled him up then both lovers embraced in a passionate kiss.

Kaleb slid the ring onto her finger and found that it was a perfect fit. The diamond sparkled brilliantly in the arcing sunlight as his fiancée admired its splendor.

"That is quite a rock ya got me there, love. Tell me you didn't heroically slaughter a hundred giants to get me this?" She laughed.

"Believe it or not, Ulfgar gave it to me. He took the largest diamond from his late wife's tiara and had the band cast using dwarven gold."

Amalthia pursed her lips. "I was wondering why he was interested in finding out the size of my fourth finger. Please thank, Ulf. That was very thoughtful of him to do something like that for us. We will have to find some way of repaying him."

"Agreed. But first... about those goggles..."

She looked over the waterfall, then back at Kaleb. "You're not serious? Are you?"

"Why not? We are 'taking the plunge' after all. I thought it would be fitting," Kaleb winked as he began undressing until all he had on was his swim trunks. Amalthia followed suit, only she stripped down to nothing and stashed both of their articles of clothing in a waterproof bag she was carrying.

"Goggles please, Miss Steelblade," Kaleb said as she handed him his goggles.

"Certainly Mr. Grimwald. After you, of course," she said gesturing for him to take the first jump.

He clasped hold of her hands and looked into her eyes. "How 'bout we both do it at the same time?"

She nodded as did he, and they both ran towards the edge of the falls. Each leaped high into the air and assumed their respective diving forms as they both slid effortlessly down over the falls. When they descended, they each made a perfectly choreographed plunge into the cold water then emerged with the widest of smiles on their faces.

That day, the pair made passionate love to each other in several of their favorite romantic hiding places. By the time their bodies were spent, they were cuddled together at a nearby riverbank.

"Now we've got to figure out how to plan this whole wedding thing," Kaleb mused as he stroked Amalthia's still-damp fur.

"Isn't it the groom's family that's supposed to plan the ceremony?"

"The bride's actually. But since your people aren't into that sort of thing, an exception will have to be made."

Amalthia looked into Kaleb's eyes and nestled her head on his chest. "Then you know what that means, don't you?"

"Yeah. Talk to my parents. I swear that I would rather face an army of a hundred undead than confront my father." Kaleb sighed.

His fiancée reassured him. "Sooner or later you will have to deal with them. As a matter of fact, I've never even met any of your family."

"I know. Well, I suppose I'll have to do it sometime, eventually. Tell you what - would you like me to introduce you to them?"

"Do I have a choice? I'm not saying it in a bad way, mind you. It's just that I know you and your family didn't depart on exactly good terms."

Kaleb looked at her and smiled. "No time like the present, then. How about we head on over to my parents place... say, sometime next week? Might as well get this over with. Like you said - the sooner the better."

Amalthia smiled back. "I didn't exactly say that, silly. But sure... I'm game for meeting your folks."

"Well, they will eventually be your folks too, yanno." Kaleb jested.

"Geesh. Don't remind me..." she snarked playfully.

"Hey now! I'm the one who has to call that big charr of yours, dad. Talk about taking a lump to the throat." Kaleb made a grimacing face.

"At least my sire actually respects, and to a certain degree, even likes you. There's no telling your parents will react around me."

Kaleb kissed her on the cheek. "Don't worry about that, m'dear. I'll make sure they are on their best behavior when they are around you."

***

A week had passed since Kaleb had proposed to Amalthia. He gave his uncle advance notice of their impending arrival. After all, he didn't want to catch anyone in his family completely off guard.

It was an early weekend morning when the two of them headed on over to his parents place. The air was brisk and Kaleb could feel the chill of fall. As they approached his family home, he waved for Amalthia to stand out of line-of-site. He first wanted to break the ice with his folks slowly.

He knocked and a minute later, the door opened. His father stood there looking at him silently for a moment before gesturing for him to come on through.

"Kaleb..." was his father's only response.

"Father." Kaleb nodded, as he was about to enter.

"Where's mom? There's someone I would like to introduce you both to," the Grimwald son said as he stopped just shy of entering the doorway.

His father walked back and called up the stairs to his wife, Shirley. Moments later she came down, dressed in her typical conservative housewife attire.

"Son. It's... been a long time," she said as she walked over to give her son a hug.

"Same. Mom. Dad. There's someone I'd like you to meet. Amalthia," Kaleb said as he waved for Amalthia to show herself.

She deftly stepped through the doorway, walking in her characteristic charr crouched position as she went on through. For a moment, both of his parents looked at her without uttering so much as a sound.

"This is the source of all our troubles. Mom. Dad. Meet Amalthia. Amalthia - these are my parents, Daniel and Shirley Grimwald," Kaleb said as he closed the door.

Amalthia bowed her head and held out her right paw. "It's nice to meet you both."

Shirley stood still and said nothing. Daniel, on the other hand, reached out and took Amalthia's rather large pawed hand and gently shook it for a moment before quickly withdrawing his own hand back into his coat pocket.

"Pleasure's all mine. Please, make yourself comfortable. Coffee? Tea?" Father Grimwald asked as he showed them to the living room couches.

"Water is fine," Amalthia said as she tucked her large tail off to the side to accommodate the rather small seats. Kaleb sat down and nodded for some water as well.

His mother finally spoke. "Do you like ice in yours miss...?"

"Steelblade, ma'am. Ice is fine."

It was obvious to everyone that the introduction was getting off to a very awkward start. Kaleb tried to smooth things over by asking about how the business was doing.

"It's doing fine, son. Will and his boy have been helping to keep things afloat. But the truth is, we still miss you."

Kaleb bowed his head. "And I miss working with you as well. But I'm glad Uncle Will has been helping with things."

Shirley returned with the drinks. As she handed them out she looked at Amalthia then Kaleb and asked. "Is this your girlfriend?"

Kaleb shook his head. "That's what I came here to talk to both of you about."

He took hold of Amalthia's left pawed hand and showed his parents the ring on her finger.

"I asked her to marry me about a week ago. Ulfgar had this ring custom made just for her. The diamond was from his late wife's tiara. Isn't it amazing?" Kaleb smiled as he held his mate's hand snugly.

Both of his parents were left speechless.

"Don't everyone go jumping for joy on my account," Amalthia said in her characteristic blunt manner.

"Ama! Please!" Kaleb chided her.

His dad spoke up. "No. No. It's okay. There's an eight hundred pound gorilla in the room and someone's gotta break the ice. Miss Steelblade... I apologize if we may come off as being rude. But you have to understand the turmoil this has caused our family."

"Let's all try to be civil, dear," Shirley said while doing her best to keep the conversation peaceful.

Amalthia looked at his parents laconically then replied in an even tone. "I don't think either of you are being rude. Insincere? Maybe - but rude? Hardly..."

"Amalthia!" Kaleb said to her angrily.

She looked at both his parents in the eye and commented. "In case either of you find why your son picked a furry lush like me to be his forever mate, it's probably because I'm never afraid to call things exactly as I see them."

Daniel sighed. "She does have a point."

"I think I must get some fresh air. Please go about your business while I freshen up," Shirley said as she was about to make a hasty departure.

"Mom. Please stay. I would like to try and talk."

Daniel placed his hand on his son's knee. "Leave her be, son. This is a lot for her to take in."

"Father. Dad. I just wanted to apologize for the things I said to the both of you earlier. There were just so many things happening and it was all so unexpected, you know - the way you all found out."

His father looked into his son's eyes. "I understand why you didn't attend Rachel's college acceptance party. The way she handled the situation left much to be desired."

Moments later, Kaleb's youngest sister came running down the stairs when she saw that her big brother was finally home. "Kaaall!!"

"Katieee!" He said as he ran, picked her up then gave her a big hug.

Katie immediately noticed Amalthia sitting at the edge of the sofa.

"Charr! So big and fluffy."

Kaleb walked her over to his fiancée. "Here. Would you like to meet her? This is Amalthia. Can you say Ah.. mall..thee...ah?"

The little girl mimicked the words as she reached over to give Amalthia a hug. Kaleb handed her off and Amalthia sat the little girl on her knee.

"Well, hello there. I've heard all about you, Katie."

She touched Amalthia's large cranial horns then ran her small fingers along her fur until she began feeling the charr's whiskers. Amalthia laughed and gently stroked Katie's golden blond hair with her clawed hands.

"Those are such big teeth. Do you bite?"

Amalthia playfully nibbled the little girl's shoulder. "Do you call that a bite?"

Katie laughed and shook her head. "That's not a bite."

The interaction had not gone unnoticed by Katie's mother. She changed her mind about leaving and decided, instead, to stay.

"Aww. I never knew you were so good with kids, Miss Steelblade."

"You may call me Amalthia. It's much easier than saying my last name. Anyway, contrary to popular belief, charr aren't into eating your young. They are too skinny and boney," she said as she playfully nibbled on Katie some more.

"She's had plenty of interactions with human children before. To tell you the truth, when I first saw how she interacted with them, I knew then that there was something special about her," Kaleb smiled as he too joined in playing with Katie.

"Your cub is absolutely adorable, Mrs. Grimwald."

"I think you found a new best friend," the elder Grimwald commented.

Kaleb added. "More like, a new best sister."

Katie started playing with Amalthia's long tail. Amused by the little girl's antics, she swished her tail in the child's face causing her to laugh even more.

"Speaking of children. How do either of you plan on having any?" Shirley asked the one question that was bound to come up.

Both Kaleb and Amalthia looked at each other then turned to face his parents and simultaneously said. "Adoption."

"I see," was Shirley's only response.

Moments later, the lock on the front door clicked and in walked Rachel, who was carrying a backpack that appeared to be several sizes too big for her. Oblivious to the guests, she quickly began running towards the stairs until her mom's voice stopped her in her tracks.

"Guess who's here, Rach."

The middle child angrily threw down her backpack at the foot of the stairs then turned to look at whom her mother was talking about. When she saw her brother and a large golden-furred charr, she was completely at a loss for words.

"So is this the little rat you've been telling me about, love," Amalthia said as she pointed to Rachel.

"Yup. She's the one," Kaleb said with a smirk.

"I'm not a rat, furface!"

"Rachel Grimwald! Don't be so rude to our guest!" Mother Grimwald chided her daughter.

Amalthia waved her hand and smiled. "That's okay, Mrs. Grimwald. I'll be happy to instruct your wayward daughter on the proper implementation of hurling personal insults. Shall we begin, little mouse?"

Kaleb could not contain his laughter. "Don't encourage her, dear. Wait... maybe you should."

"Fine, whatever! I'm going up to my room so I won't have to spend one more minute looking at my brother who likes to roll with a kitty in the sack," Rachel said as she stomped off towards the upstairs.

"I'm so sorry my daughter is acting this way. She's just going through that teenage angst phase," Shirley tried to smooth over the situation.

Amalthia shook her head. "Nah. She's just lashing out at me because she resents you."

Shirley was taken aback by the seeming insult. "What did you say??"

"Look, I know a mother-hater when I see one. Anyone who knows me can vouch for me on this one. Your cub holds a lot of hostility towards you but she's too afraid to express it," Amalthia said as she shouted the last part of what she was intending on saying; "isn't that right, Rachel?"

Even though none of the humans could hear it, Amalthia could clearly hear Kaleb's middle sister saying - piss off.

Daniel Grimwald looked at Amalthia then rested his chin on his arm. "I still don't know what to make of you. But I've got to admit, you don't hold back on your words."

Amalthia smiled. "I never have and I never will. And neither does Kaleb."

"I can't say that I approve of your relationship with my son. But the two of you are grown adults who are capable of making your own decisions." Shirley noted the obvious.

Kaleb looked at his fiancée and then at his parents. "Look. We would very much like to have the two of you on board for our upcoming wedding. I know it isn't the kind you had in mind for me, and I'm sorry that it didn't work out with Trish. But both of you have always known that I've followed life to the tune of a different drum anyway."

"About Trish," his father commented. "To my shame, she wasn't the person your mother thought she was. I know she accused you of threatening her. But when Will told me about what she did to the cat, I realized that she was no good."

"Did Uncle Will tell you anything else about her?"

His mother chimed in. "Before we go further, please put Katie to bed. She doesn't need to be hearing all this grownup stuff."

Amalthia nodded then asked Katie where her room was. The little girl pointed upstairs and she took Kaleb's youngest sister up to her room.

"I know that she and Will had more than just a casual relationship," his father said.

"Listen, father. I did, in fact, plan on going to Rachel's party. But when I arrived, I found Trish and Uncle Will... you know - rolling in the hay," Kaleb confessed as he made room for Amalthia, who was coming down the stairs.

"She's all tucked in," Amalthia smiled then leaped over the couch then onto the empty spot the Kaleb had left for her.

"Didn't your mother teach you that it's bad manners to jump over furniture?" Kaleb jested as he gave her a kiss on the nose.

"That's why I do it. Anything to piss her off was always fine by me. Besides, I was raised in a fahrar. My primus never enforced that rule anyway."

Shirley looked at the boisterous female charr rather sternly. "That soon-to-be wife of yours is an outspoken one, isn't she?"

"Well, her dad did say she was a clam. Always opening her mouth and lacking adequate filtration whenever something unsavory flowed out," Kaleb said with a laugh.

"I heard the two of you live at Ulfgar's tavern. If you don't mind me asking, what kind of living do you make?" Daniel asked.

"Freelance professionals," Amalthia interjected.

Kaleb also commented. "Yeah. In fact, we need to get some business cards drafted up. Isn't that right, honey?"

She picked up on the hint that it was time to go. "Oh yes. Time is money."

The elder Grimwald bowed his head as he walked over toward his son. "I take it you have to be going."

"Fraid so, father. I'm just glad we could drop by, so the two of you could meet Amalthia."

Shirley gave Kaleb a hug as well. "I'm so glad you stopped by to see us. I'm sorry if your visit wasn't as pleasant as it could have been."

His mother, then, walked over to Amalthia and offered her a handshake. "If there's one thing I've learned today, and that is to be honest. Please don't be too offended if I don't offer you a hug. It's just that I'm still coming to terms with all of this."

Amalthia returned the handshake with a laconic look. "No offense taken. You hate my guts for what I am and for stealing your son away. I get that. Meeting you hasn't really changed my perception of mothers anyway. But for what it's worth, at least I don't hate you like I do my own."

Shirley Grimwald was speechless. Kaleb tried his best to make a quick exit by coaxing his fiancée towards the door. "Okayyy. I think we should be going, dear."

Once the door had closed behind them, Kaleb could hear his mother crying. With a heavy sigh, he held his mate's hand then quickly put some distance between themselves and his family's place.

"I'm sorry my folks reacted the way they did."

Amalthia looked at Kaleb and smiled. "You needn't worry. This is going to be a step-by-step process for everyone. And by the way... I'm not sorry for how I behaved in front of your parents. If they can't accept me for who I am then it’s just tough luck for them."

Kaleb shook his head. "I've never felt such a culture clash until now. The way your people express their thoughts and emotions is so much different than the way we do it. For us, it's politeness. For your people, it's seen as duplicity."

Amalthia looked into his eyes then stroked his head with her long claws. "The path we chose is not an easy one. This is just one of those challenges we have to overcome. But if we do this together, I believe it will make us even stronger. Don't you agree?"

Kaleb smiled and kissed her on the cheek.

"My dear, I couldn't agree more!"

(All chapters have been posted to AO3. Chapter 28 is posted here.)

[dailyexo]

[NEWS] Baekhyun - 190310 Allure: “How EXO's Baekhyun Put His Identity into Privé Alliance”

"Allure's Devon Abelman sat down with the K-pop star during his first-ever solo appearance in the U.S to discuss how he defines beauty and style on his own terms.

BY DEVON ABELMAN

If I didn't know who Baekhyun was before meeting him in February, I would have thought he was just a random handsome dude I met at a nightclub while on vacation in Los Angeles.

As he politely tells a roving cater waiter offering us mini cannolis, "No thank you," I find myself believing that Baekhyun truly is that guy. I'm fully aware of his claim to fame, but he doesn't look or act the part. For starters, Baekhyun's lids aren't defined with expertly blended smoky eyes, and his lips aren't stained with a raspberry lip tint. Those tell-tale signs of a man with his job description are noticeably missing. Not a single stroke of eyeliner or fleck of glitter is in sight, either (honestly, to my dismay). A part of me hoped we'd bond over our eye makeup.

Makeup aside, Baekhyun carries himself with a quiet confidence that is so unassuming that he seems weirdly familiar and incredibly normal compared to the influencers, actors, and singers milling around us in the private VIP area. He never acts like he's better or more important than any other person there. Instead, he has the affability of the construction worker who waves to me every morning on my way to work rather than the larger-than-life bearing of a superstar from Seoul who effortlessly hits high notes while simultaneously performing powerful choreography. During our interview, I felt like I should ask him about his dog instead of his skin-care routine. If I didn't know who Baekhyun was, I would have wondered why I was interviewing him for Allure at all.

Baekhyun's wavy hair reminds me why this article exists on the Internet and not solely as a story I recount to my friends over text messages. Parted in the middle and styled to have a wet look, his auburn ends are relics of internationally beloved K-pop group EXO's most recent concept. His hair, for all intents and purposes, is the reason why we ended up sitting together in a cushy booth in the back corner of the dimly lit VIP section of a club on a Tuesday night. Trust me, neither of us frequent this fine L.A. establishment, located next to the Museum of Death. You won't even catch me in a club when I'm at home in Brooklyn. To put it bluntly, I'm only in this club talking to a nice guy because he's a member of EXO.

The EXO Connection

If this is your introduction to Baekhyun, please know that EXO is a Big Deal. Among their long list of awards and chart-topping accomplishments, the nine-member group performed at the 2018 Pyeongchang Olympics and has racked up more than 100 million views on each of their music videos on YouTube.

By extension, Baekhyun — full name Byun Baekhyun, age 26 — is a Big Deal, too. In addition to being a talented performer with 14.5 million Instagram followers, his bright dye jobs, innovative hairstyles, and experimental eye makeup have sparked beauty trends in K-pop since EXO debuted in 2012. You can, more or less, blame him for the influx of mullets and red-streaked black hair among other idols and thank him for the proliferation of red eye shadow. No matter how controversial or dramatic the looks Baekhyun tries are, he always pulls them off with ease and joviality.

Back to Baekhyun's auburn hair, though. Like most K-pop stars, he constantly undergoes vibrant dye jobs in hues, like pink, silver, and platinum, to fit the group's concepts. For "Love Shot," EXO's latest music video, he paired his newly burgundy hair with a glimmering eye shadow of the same shade and sooty black liner. Now his look is an extremely streamlined version of this.

His current lack of makeup may be a stark contrast from the bold eye looks he typically wears onstage and in music videos, but his skin is just as dewy as ever with the help of a nearly undetectable layer of foundation. His brows are probably lightly filled in, too, but I could be reaching. If anything, Baekhyun's wearing the standard amount of makeup for celebrity men. Just enough to amplify his glow, not enough to make a statement.

Baekhyun's glow is due in part to a consistent regimen; he lists toner, lotion, and moisturizer as the official order. But how many times do you wash your face, I ask, causing a couple of people in the human bubble of managers, publicists, and security guards surrounding us to laugh. Baekhyun ignores their snickers and answers, "Two," in English. (That's right, double cleansing is no laughing matter.) "If I wash my face too many times, I get skin troubles," he adds.

Baekhyun says he hasn't changed up the steps of his skin-care routine in L.A., or ramped up the number of sheet masks he uses. With EXO constantly traveling for concerts and events, "My skin gets used to the environment," he says. "So wherever I am, I use the same skin-care routine."

The Privé Connection

In hindsight, I should have anticipated Baekhyun would present himself in this low-key manner for his first-ever solo appearance in the U.S. In Privé campaigns, he's usually seen as he is now: natural, casual, effortlessly cool. His makeup is minimal; his natural-colored hair looks like all he did was run his hand through it; his outfits are sleek. With all this in mind, I ask him if he could dye his hair any color for the next campaign, what would it be.

How did I end up interviewing Baekhyun in a club, you ask? Let's go back to May 2018. Baekhyun made it onto Vogue's home page when he was named the co-creative director of streetwear brand Privé Alliance. Alongside Danyl Geneciran, the brand's CEO, Baekhyun helps create pieces that "put highlights on the basics," Baekhyun explains to me. He later reveals that he's surprised that almost all of his ideas have been executed.

My favorite part of Privé is how its offerings have a certain fluidity to them, much like Baekhyun's onstage persona. None of Privé's shirts, jackets, and bags are confined to overtly masculine or feminine silhouettes, and the same designs are available for men and women. "It's very important to have everyone be able to wear the clothes comfortably," Baekhyun explains. "Without any official communication, we agreed that [Privé Alliance] is going to be unisex."

With the newest Privé Alliance collection launching in April, the brand invited the public to join Baekhyun for a fashion presentation. The location: the very club we are sitting in. Although he doesn't act like he is (he kept to himself for most of the event), Baekhyun is undoubtedly the center of attention. He is the reason the floor below us is with filled with people from all over the world. Everyone's here to see Baekhyun, not the latest Privé pieces.

The Identity Connection

This is the only question Baekhyun doesn't answer concisely and without hesitation. "I don't know," he says in English. After taking a couple of seconds to think about it, he adds in Korean, "I love the black," adding "simple" in English.

This single word — simple — perfectly mirrors Baekhyun's personal aesthetic. "Basics, but with many little details," he explains. "It’s like you just came out of your house, but it’s still cool." In other words, he's the epitome of "Oh, this old thing? I just threw it on." I ask if he prefers to keep his hair and makeup natural and low-key, too, and he quickly replies, "yes, yes," in Korean.

The fact that Prive's aesthetic is similar to Baekhyun's is intentional. "I put my identity and myself into this collection," he tells me, echoing a line he shared when he made a brief appearance onstage before the fashion presentation commenced. The theme of the collection was his birth year, 1992, with zip-up corduroy jackets and hoodies adorned with '92 in big text.

Another adage he repeats throughout the night is, "Be brave. Be humble." The same words are printed all over the collared white satin shirt he's wearing, layered under a similar navy blue one. After the event, I saw people saying the look recalled EXO's "Lotto" era, back in 2016 when his hair was styled in a similar way and he wore collared shirts with several of the top buttons undone and silver necklaces. Onyx shadow was blended all over his lids back then, though. Fans likened Baekhyun's look that night to a mafia boss. (Seeing those tweets made me laugh, because his charm is far from disarming.) But for Baekhyun, his outfit is more a matter of comfort. "I like how silky it feels," he says. I go on to compare it to pajamas, which makes him chuckle.

Baekhyun doesn't ignore the fact that he typically presents himself with intricate details. Performing, he points out, is his go-to form of self-expression, outside of working with Privé. And let's be real, Baekhyun's performances, which ooze confidence and allure, wouldn't be the same without his stunning hair and makeup.

To borrow a word from Baekhyun, identity — and the way we present ourselves — isn't fixed. For example, the way my best friend describes my identity could be strikingly different from the way my sisters would. The way I dress when I'm going to get a bagel on a Saturday morning (track pants and a T-shirt) is different from how I dress for work (vintage floral dresses) or an event like this (a blue-and-white plaid suit). The way I do my colorful makeup is also evolving, too.

We often see K-pop stars in narrow, controlled situations, though, so we know and define them according to what we're able to see. I'm as guilty of this as the next person, i.e., assuming Baekeyun would show up with eyeliner as bold as my own. When you take a K-pop star out of a K-pop setting, a different side of them is revealed. They no longer have to adhere to a group aesthetic, just their own. We get a glimpse of Baekhyun's at the airport and in the selfies he posts on Instagram, but Privé Alliance has given him a platform to truly show his identity on his own terms.

At that club, I felt like I was being introduced to Baekhyun all over again. Back when I watched EXO's music video for "Monster" the first time, I saw him as part of a carefully crafted package; the second time, I saw him the way he sees himself."

Photo links: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7

Credit: Allure.

[brownskinsugarplum76]

Eye of the Storm, Ch 9

Got a little more NSFW, smutty hanky- panky for you. Maggie contemplates the life of a burgeoning rock star with a megastar boyfriend, and Robert gets vulnerable while in a vulnerable position. 😈 Thank you @firethatgrewsolow for the talk on the relationship angst.

Just want to reiterate that this story is AU--I make mention of Robert not being married. ❤️❤️❤️

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After some hushed pillow talk and more teasing and connecting of their bodies, Robert and Maggie drifted off to sleep.

Some time later, Maggie woke up, enveloped in Roberts arms, to moonlight flooding the room and the muted sound of the ocean. She smelled her perfume on him, mixed with his earthy, masculine scent. He was sleeping on his back and snoring softly. He’d piled his hair behind his head in hopes of cooling down after their lengthy tryst.

She nuzzled her cheek against his chest fuzz. It was one of her favorite places in the world to be, and it felt good to be back.

She had missed him, as she always did when tour dates or oceans separated them.

The lengthy gaps in their connections were the worst part of their unique relationship. Robert was always eager to wallow in the things that excited him about America while in the country, always eager to spend as much time with her as possible, but once his plane pointed toward England, things weren’t the same between them. He’d told her that he needed a few weeks alone to shake off his tour persona, but by then he was off to another pub or soccer pitch with his best mates, and English life with family and friends became far more seductive than she was.

Eventually he’d come around and they’d reconnect through letters and calls. She could feel his laughter during their phone conversations, and his sexy murmur still affected her from thousands of miles away when he unleashed it, but there was always a slight sense of distance. She knew that he didn’t have a wife and kids waiting for him, like Bonzo and Jonesy, and she knew that he cared for her, but he could not be moved from his wish for sanctuary and time for the rambunctious US fans and silver-tongued hangers-on to fade away.

It, by far, was the worst part of their arrangement, worse than knowing that Robert was galavanting with other women while on tour. There was no human competition; instead, there was a wall he’d built to guard his real life. She was glad to hear him admit earlier, at last, that the distance between them, this time apart in the same big state, hurt him as much as it hurt her.

It was satisfying to hear Robert speak from his heart, without hiding behind jokes or the sweet diversion of his seduction. She hoped this revelation, and the bond that would be formed with their extended time together, would lead to her first trip to his country sometime soon.

Maggie loved that Robert was so unflinchingly sure about his vision for their future, and she was beyond excited about it, but she wondered what would happen when they encountered people who didn’t care about any of that.

She had recently became more aware of the perks of being a front woman, and she could understand why being the lead singer was such a drug for Robert and others. The reaction from her regional touring was much more intense than when her band played the hyperlocal bar circuit in San Diego. It was new and exciting, she had to admit–having such a large number of eyes on her, knowing the crowd had felt and enjoyed the energy she gave to them, feeling the rush of their collective, appreciative energy washing powerfully over her, and gaining groupies of her own.

She knew her throng of admirers was nowhere near the harem that often waited for Robert backstage, a spectacle she had witnessed plenty of times, but there were men who showed up with flowers and flattering words for her, more than before. Their smiles were sometimes admiring, sometimes leering. Many of them made her skin crawl, or she sensed a creepy, possessive threat behind their flirtation. But some were men who sincerely enjoyed her music and wanted to spend a little more time with her. Some of that number were cute, too cute to resist. She had found herself in this same nighttime cuddling position with those men, but she could say it never felt as right as it did with Robert.

She sighed and stretched her legs. Robert stirred and held her tighter without waking up. The thoughts of future tour life persisted. She realized that it had been a few years since Robert last brought up the topic of her post-concert nights. Robert had told her many times that he couldn’t possibly demand exclusivity from her, knowing his reality, and now she wondered if his lack of curiosity was due to an easygoing spirit or a delicate heart. Only time would tell, under their new arrangement.

Knowing those concerns could wait, she turned her attention back to Robert. Even asleep, without his expressive face in motion and his arsenal of charming words, he was irresistible. His classical jawline was relaxed, with his mouth open slightly, but his eyelashes fanned over his skin, creating a shy, boyish expression. It made her wonder what the schoolboy version of Robert had looked like.

Fully awake now, she decided to rouse him for some company. She gingerly pulled back the covers. By the light of the moon she could see his chest gracefully rising and falling, the soft ripples of his abdomen, his dormant manhood, which still teased with possibility, and his sturdy thighs.

She wanted to trail her tongue and lips over every inch of his skin, but she knew that focusing on his sex would be the most efficient way to get his attention.

She wrested herself from his embrace as slowly as possible, and then she headed south. She trailed a finger down the length of his cock which, in its relaxed state, was still larger than what some of the groupies presented to her. She sighed and shuddered with delight as some of the best moments of the last few hours played themselves back in her mind and body.

She lifted and encircled her fingers around Robert’s manhood, licking him to life with straight and circular lashes, similar to the varied methods with which she polished off her ice cream cone during the day. Back at her car, Robert had given a blow-by-blow (as he insisted on calling it) commentary on her ice cream consumption and became engrossed in her work to the point that his cone started to melt and drip down his hand. The thought made her chuckle with pride while she continued her current labor of love.

“Mmmm… What’s so funny?” The vibrations of her laughter had done the trick. “He not getting there fast enough for you, lusty woman? Even he needs a rest from time to time.” Robert’s voice was more breathy and husky than usual upon waking up, and the sultry tone made a strong current of need surge inside of Maggie.

She paused and crawled up to kiss Robert insistently. “I was just thinking of how much you like this.”

“That I do, love…” Robert propped himself up with pillows while she headed back to his lap and continued. He smoothed her hair out of her face. She looked up at him briefly and her eyes did the smiling while her mouth was completely preoccupied with the full swell of Robert’s sex. And then, eyes closed, she continued.

“My favorite was that one time we flew from LA to Seattle. Remember? The turbulence? Ah, the sweet feel of your mouth, the tease of life and death in the balance with each unexpected dip of the plane… I tried to get you back in your seat, but you were committed… Fuck, ‘til the very end… Every last drop… Best flight since the first time we left the British Isles… We’ll have to see if our schedules align for the long flight to Texas next year, love… Mmm…”

Maggie opened her eyes briefly and saw Robert’s head slowly roll backward. His lips were slightly parted, and she could hear his hungry breathing.

"You always did spoil me, Mags. Mmmmm…" He inhaled sharply as she teased his sensitive underside.

"Now's my turn to spoil you… Breakfast in bed, coming up in a few hours. Full English. I love Betsy’s cooking dearly, but you Yanks just don't have that touch of English domestic magic. Had to get my mum to ship some packages of our bacon, even. You can only eat those American fried fat strips so many times you know?"

"Fuck, darlin'... Feels like you could be down there for the next couple of weeks, if I let you! Mmmmm…" He held her hair tighter with one hand, while the other migrated from a shoulder to one of her breasts. He put the pad of his thumb to work on her nipple, adding to the pleasure she was getting from his reactions.

He started to thrust lightly. “I know exactly which stores we should visit for your tour wardrobe. But why don’t you also pick out a few things of mine? I’d love to see someone wear that black bolero again… The one with the white trim that I was still wearing around the time we met? Won’t be fitting me anytime soon…”

Maggie moved one of her hands to cup Robert’s heavy-laden balls as she continued to bob her head and corkscrew her other hand on the expanse of his shaft.

Robert groaned and his body became restless with the slow build of pleasure. “I had a dream about you onstage… Couldn’t get your moves out of my mind, I suppose… Perfectly filled pair of hot pants and the tiniest T-shirt that put your tits in the spotlight… I was in the front row, and you kissed me. I fully enjoyed being on that side of the groupie exchange. Let’s just say I showed my appreciation of you in your limo... You almost screamed as loud as you did in the kitchen earlier!” His pride in his dream performance pulled the corners of his mouth into a Chesire cat grin.

“But you know, I must see your lovely ass in some leather pants. Maybe a leather halter, too? I saw a bit of Chaka Khan in concert, and she had on a sexy ensemble like that… Leather, feathers… It would look great on you, too.”

Robert moved his hands to Maggie’s shoulders and thrusted deeper.

“Fuck! Woman… Uh…”

Robert’s chatter dissolved into agonized moans for a time before he continued. “I’ll… I’ll need a private concert, of course… Uh… Yes, love… Right there… It’s high bloody time I cash in on the perks of rock royalty, you know? I can see it now, the band breaking into a saucy rhythm, and mi amor, all hips and waist movement and flying hair… And… And.. Ohhhhh… That voice…”

Robert closed his eyes and let his body take over. His hands flew to the sides of her head as he chased the climax on the horizon.

“I bought a bootleg of one of your concerts… Forgive me, love, but I know you have some of ours! Uh… Uh… Shit, I’m almost there!” he hissed. “I couldn’t stop listening to ‘Last Night.’ That’s my favorite, I think… Reminds me of us! ‘Last night, when we rocked and rolled, oh, you struck my soul, and you filled that hole in my heart.’” He gathered the last of his waning strength to belt out the song, the same as she had.

“You really lost yourself in the song… Your voice! So wild. Fuck! Baby… Yes, Maggie, yes, Maggie, yessssss… Uh… The first time I heard the boot… Hot as fuck… I couldn’t help myself, I… I… Uh… Ohhhhh, baby, yes… I thought of you on top of me, and I… Made me so fucking hard… My hands… Needed you… Had to make do… But not tonight, baby… Not tonight, not tomorrow… You’re here… In my life, in my house, my bed… Right where you should be… I’m so glad you… Ohhh…. Oh! Fuck! I…” Robert’s body stiffened suddenly and his seed coursed. His final moan rolled on for almost as long as his climactic note in Kashmir.

Maggie’s lips softened their grip as she withdrew his cock. She kissed the glistening head before retiring to Robert's outstretched arms.

“I’ve never been so happy to be up at 4 a.m.,” he said, glancing at the glow-in-the-dark clock. “Hell of a wake-up call, Magdalena dear…”

"Great conversation," she teased. “Can't wait for this breakfast you've promised."

"You'll have to wait a little for that meal, but I'm going to have a delightful feast now…" He guided Maggie to rest in his spot on the bed, and with the first stroke of his tongue in her sex, she knew breakfast could wait.

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The rest of my stories are here, or search for the hashtag #brownskinsugarplumlibrary

[chopper-witch]

Honey, Where is My Super Suit one-shot series: Loki

Pairing: Loki x reader (gender neutral)

Warnings: some angst, poor Loki’s dinner gets ruined, implied smut

Word count: 2,927

Summary: Loki has your special dinner all planned out and is more than a little upset when it ends up disturbed.

____

“When you said you were glad we finally got to have dinner together because you set up something special I expected… I’m not sure. But not this!” You exclaim, gesturing towards the set up. 

Three weeks ago was your and Loki’s three year anniversary but any plans that may have been were canceled by a last-minute mission you were needed on that started three days before your anniversary and ended eight days after. 

But that was a pattern you and Loki were accustomed to: plans were never guaranteed. Whether it was you being whisked away due to an emergency mission or him being called in due to an 084 they needed help with, it became apart of your life. 

Or if plans weren’t interrupted by last-minute calls, then they were interrupted by surprise visits from friends and co-workers who love to just show up and don’t need a key to get inside, like Natasha or Tony. No matter what security (or spells) you two installed, they always find their way in. 

So tonight you were assured by Fury, Coulson, and several others up the chain of command that you would not be needed tonight and if there were any issues with 084s they would handle it the way they did before the Asgardians landed on Earth.

Which is how you walked back into your apartment after Loki telling you to stay out until 7 PM to this scene. 

Candles lit nearly everywhere: on the table by the couch, on the kitchen counter, and a few larger ones on the tiny table you wedge near the window. An obscene amount of food, all things Loki has called his specialties ever since he learned how to cook down here on Earth: alfredo bowtie pasta, panelle with goat cheese and salsa rustica, arancini, saltimbocca, and the most delicious chocolate cake you have ever had (Loki became partial it Italian food and you still have yet to figure out why). And the best part, of course, is Loki, standing nervously by the table. 

“So is it alright?”

Your eyes flit back to him in his perfectly tailored all black suit. “It’s perfect, Loki.”

“Well then stop staring at it and come enjoy it.”

“So pushy.” 

But you comply, dropping your bag beside the door and walking over to your absolutely perfect boyfriend. 

“Alright,” you smile, grabbing the lapels of his suit, “what is first of the menu chef.” 

Loki releases a small chuckle. “First is a kiss.” 

He presses his lips to yours lightly, barely even touching your lips fully with his chaste kiss. Nonetheless the softness of his lips never fails to make you smile, so any kiss is a good kiss with him.

“And now, it’s whatever you’d like to start with.” 

You bite you lip. Everything he makes always ends up perfect somehow. “How about a little of everything?” 

“Anything for you.” 

But Loki, being the true (yet suspiciously well-behaved) gentleman he is, pulls your chair for you at the tiny table wedge near the window. It’s sweet so you comply, normally not keen on letting him to things for you. 

Once everything is settled the two of you can legitimately talk. Your plate is full of far too much food and the wine Loki got is definitely something special. Him being so sweet is always lovely, so you don’t mind.

You take a sip of the red wine. It’s surprisingly sweet on your tongue and amazing. 

“Who woulda thought you’d fall in love with your baby sitter?” You muse.

Loki leans back in his chair, peering over to you. “I believe you were the one who said not to call you a baby sitter.”

“True,” you shrug, “but that is basically what I was while they figured out what to do with you.” You shrug and swirl the glass of wine around. “Anything interesting happen besides you cooking earlier? I have a hard time believing you didn’t use your magic.” 

“Oh, I didn’t. What did end up happening is -” 

A long, light familiar buzz emanates from your watch. Mission alert. 

10 second pause. “And then I couldn’t find where you kept the larger things pans.”

Three short but equally light vibrations. Meet at curb of current location. 

15 second pause. “- going to the store to get the wine I want to cook with. That took far too lo-” 

Two short vibrations followed by one equal to both combined. 25 minutes. 

5 second pause. “- is how the panelle ended up so perfect.” 

Three heartbeat-like vibrations. Sam? 

You are dead last on Sam’s list of mission partners meaning it really is important if you are being called in. Literally every single Avenger followed by six other agents come before you. 

“Hey, love,” you say, placing your glass of wine down on the table, “I’m sorry to interrupt your story, but I really need to pee.” 

Though the excuse is poor and weird and horribly said, you stand, hoping he will take it.

The door clicks shut behind you, your hands pressing the lock simultaneously so it doesn’t sound off after the door closes. You really do need to pee; your main objective, however, is to get your second suit that’s hidden in the wall for emergencies like this. Also to find the proper words to apologize to Loki. But it’s just another dinner ruined after all. Just like every single one so far over the past few months. 

After doing your business (and washing your hands extra loudly to keep Loki distracted from thinking something suspicious) you pull on the lever along the vent on the ground. The panel slides open, the section of the wall well hidden due to it being tiled. 

It’s empty. No pants, no shirt, no jacket, no boots, no weaponry. Not even the pepper spray is in there. 

Your hands feel around inside. Maybe things are just hidden in the shadows? 

No. 

It’s entirely empty.

Loki.

“You alright love?” 

You pull open the door, a sickly sweet smile on your face. Loki is leaning casually against the end of your bed frame, hands curled around the wood. He has that stupid satisfied smirk on his face that you’ve gladly kicked off more than once. 

“Loki, where did you put my suit?” You ask through clenched teeth. 

“I don’t know what you speak of?” He shrugs. 

“Honey, dear, love, where is my suit? There is an emergency situation and Sam will be at the curb in 20 minutes.” 

“I think the real emergency here is the danger you put our dinner in.” 

“Loki, this isn’t a joke!” Your voice is beginning to raise. 

“You promised me a night off.” Loki pushes himself forward, taking the two steps it takes to get to you. “Fury and Coulson assured you of a night off. The only joke here is thinking I would let you go.” He rests his right hand along your jaw, thumb gently tracing along your cheek. 

“Loki where did you put it? And how do you even know about it?”

“You are not as sneaky as you believe.” He grins.

“Where is it?” 

“That is not important.” 

“Not important?” You shove him back. “Loki there is an emergency somewhere that they called me as Sam’s partner. That’s really fucking important.” 

“Nothing is as important as this dinner.” His voice is still tempered, calm. 

And it is utterly infuriating. 

“We can have thousands of dinners Loki.” You sigh, closing your eyes a moment to try and calm your voice.“If I don’t go help people down there, they may never have any more. Where is my goddamn suit?” 

“Finish our dinner and I’ll tell you.” 

“I don’t have that kind of time.” You shake your head at him. Your phone vibrates twice on the counter. “And look, there is more of the mission information. Goddamnit Loki this is important!” It comes out more like a whine than a shout, your anger reaching a breaking point at his complete and utter calm.

“I am more important than some foolish mission that will turn upside down like it always does!” He huffs. “I am your significant other and this is the first time we are finally getting a night together without interruptions.” 

“They wouldn’t call me if it wasn’t absolutely necessary.” Your posture relaxes and you walk a bit closer to him. Your right hand reaches to rest at the nape of his neck, your left resting gently on his chest. “You are one of the most important people in the world to me, but helping those who need it is important as well. We will get a night off at some point, I promise.” You look down before releasing him reluctantly, turning to grab your phone. 

He is stoic in his spot half way between the bed at the bathroom door, forcing you to push past him as you dial Sam. 

Loki chooses not to try and convince you to stay and leans back against the bed, listening to your voice as it trails off. 

“Hey, any chance you have my suit or an extra one that might fit me? Oh awesome, thanks Sam. That reminds me...” 

His hands squeeze the bed frame; the wood cracks beneath his grip and is immediately iced over. 

—

One week and a far too long debrief later, Sam is parked back in front of your apartment complex. You look up at the building against the night sky, happy to be home, nervous about what is to come. 

“How mad do you think he is?” You quietly ask. 

Sam laughs. “Your paycheck for the next year is gonna be spent on making it up to that drama king up there. Good luck.” 

“It’s gonna take more than luck for me to survive whatever is waiting for me up there. Til next time bird brains.” 

“Nuh uh, you know I only let one person call me that and even then...” 

“Yeah, whatever. Night!” 

-

With a shaky exhale you unlock your apartment door. You know Loki is still there, he never stays at the place they set up for him in the compound even when you both fight. 

“Loki?” You call out. 

There’s no response. 

On the table of your living room is a tipped vase of your favorite flowers, the water long evaporated. The kitchen is almost entirely clean of any indication the two of you were supposed to have a romantic evening or any sort of evening at all save the now re-corked bottle of wine on the center of the counter. 

“Loki?” You call out again, dropping your tactical bag to the bench beside the door. “I know you’re here. I’m sorry.” 

The door of your bedroom opens, the sound loud compared to the relative silence of the rest of your apartment. Loki creeps quietly through the short hallway. He comes into the light looking arguably better, and worse, than you. And it isn’t like he hasn’t be taking care of himself; he rather looks like he’s been mentally beating himself up over your fight. Eyes slightly sunken, hair a little more messy than normal and an actual sweatshirt instead of just a zip-up hoodie like he normally wear if he is going to be in relaxed clothing.

“I’m so sorry for ruining our night,” you begin to apologize, moving forward towards him. “Everything was set up so nicely too, you even made dinner, like a full five course meal. I didn’t want to go but... I had to. I really did need to go.” 

Loki had been making his way towards you as you spoke. His head tilts down once he reaches you, hands pulling up into his sweatshirt to make sweater paws, a nervous habit of his. He quickly removes the fabric from his hands. It’s just you, he reminds himself. 

“I’m sorry for trying to make you try to choose between your job and me.” Loki lifts up his hands so his palms face you. You smile, threading your fingers through his, the feeling of his skin against yours a nice change of pace from the craziness of this past week. “I just spent so long trying to make it perfect since we finally had a night without any distractions. I even went out of my way to get a ring so I could do it the way you mortals in this part of the world do it…” he trails off, looking up with eyes widening as realization of his admission hits him. 

You drop your head down, resting the top on his chest. “You were going to propose. That’s why, ah…” You tilt your head back and smile. “That’s why not only did you actually legitimately cook for once without magic but you were also legitimately upset. Well… I’m free now.”

Loki frowns. “Aren’t proposals supposed to be romantic and special?”

You shake your head. “I’m an agent that works for an organization that ranges from completely covert operations to straight up public as hell. Special I appreciate. Romantic is sort of no longer in my vocabulary. Where’s the ring?”

“Why would I tell you?”

“Where’s the ring?”

Loki sighs, releasing his right hand and conjuring a small velvet green box in a flash of green. Your fingers unthread from his left, allowing you to pluck the box from his hand and open it. Inside sits a thin gold band complete with an inset of three gems: one emerald in the center, larger than the two diamonds on the outside of it. You pick it up from the box. It’s simple and pretty and definitely going to need to go on a necklace or be left behind for field missions. Regardless, you slide it onto your left ring finger and toss the box back to Loki who catches it, but barely.

You shrug. “There, all done.” 

“Is that you saying yes?” 

“That’s me saying yes. I hope you got yourself a matching one because we are both very officially off the market, not just me. Oh! I got you something while I was gone to make up for missing our dinner...” you dig around in your jacket, fishing inside both pockets until you find the paper. “Here we go.” 

Loki peers at skeptically as he grabs it. It’s folded and worn due to it being stuck in there for a good three days and definitely suspicious. 

“You read that, I’m going to eat something. Sam has horrible taste and I was stuck with them for a whole damn week.” 

Loki sits down on the couch as you walk over to the kitchen. A giant perk of Loki’s magic is how he extends the expiration date of food so everything he cooked from dinner last week is still perfectly preserved and just needs to be warmed up. You grab out the container full of his signature Alfredo bowtie pasta and reach for a fork in the drawer beside the fridge, closing both with ease. Post-mission flexibility is a real thing. 

You hop up onto the counter facing the couch and pry open the container. The smell wafts up to you. Butter, milk, cheese and gooey goodness is so much better than Sam’s combo of fast-food and healthy breakfast cereals. Your eyes flutter shut to take a moment just to appreciate how much better your fiancé’s cooking is compared to whatever Sam tried to poison you with. 

“Is this what I think it is?” Loki asks. 

“Well...” you begin, taking a forkful of pasta. “I have no idea what you think it is. If you think it’s an official document providing both of us three months leave then yes, it’s what you think it is.” 

“Is this really going to do anything? They promised you a night off and we saw how that went.” 

“That isn’t a ‘we promise we will leave you alone’ text,” you explain through your bite of pasta, “that’s a ‘we cannot contact you even if the world is going to end’ document. For three months. So whatever you want to do we can do for three months.” 

Loki tosses the paper onto the coffee table and stands. You watch as he walks towards you, still mostly focused on eating. No more bird food. It’s as he nears the counter do you finally notice his sparkling predatory gaze - the one he uses when he has an idea that is likely not the best but always ends up being interesting nonetheless. 

His arm wraps around your waist and tugs you to the edge of the counter, eyes staring lustfully down at you.

“Three months, huh?” 

“Plenty of time to elope. We could hop on a plane tonight if you’d like.” 

He grabs the container of pasta and places it beside you. “Or a three month vacation of the world, maybe even the galaxy. Explore it all.” Loki presses a soft kiss to your neck just below your left ear. 

You shudder slightly. “I don’t know about the galaxy, but the world does sound nice.” 

“The world it is then,” he murmurs against your lips. “But I think I want take some time re-exploring you tonight.” 

His lips finally capture yours in a deep, slow kiss. He grabs your arms with his right hand, pushing the wrists together and slowly pulling them up over your head. His left hand remains on your waist, squeezing it hard as the kiss intensifies. 

If this is how every ruined proposal is going to end, maybe you’ll keep ruining them. 

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Boys Business Women Western Wear

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