#he has worn the same fucking outfit to every event he’s been to for the last decade

[runn0ft]

Loosie's Opening at Moxy Lower East Side

Nov 03 2022

#he has worn the same fucking outfit to every event he’s been to for the last decade #also peep the grEY CHEST HAIR GOING TO KILL MYSELF #UGH. I STILL REALLY WANT TO FUCK THAT OLD MAN #every day i suffer #anatol yusef

[13thdoctorposts]

Sometimes it’s important to know when to let a show go. 

When 13 regenerated into 14 and had her clothes burnt off like a witch on a stake, sending a horrible message about women and gender RTD came out and said he did it to protect David from right wing media. Then the fans defended David coming back and that RTD would address why he had that face and why the clothes also regenerated, although I was upset with 13s regeneration I thought ok I’ll wait and see how this get handles. Because even though I don’t like the real world messaging maybe the in world messaging will be enough to make it ok.

But then what happens? We get a trans story for the very first story with very positive messaging for trans issues which is great but undermined by the fact RTD wanted to protect David from gender critiques by the right wing but didn’t seem to want to protect Yasmin Finney. So first David can’t wear Jodies costume for protection but then RTD has Yasmin live through being deadnamed in the show which she herself has said made her uncomfortable and then also gave her character the line of telling the Doctor to not assume pronouns… which any of the characters could have done but RTD chose Rose and then what happen? What always happens with the right wing, the pronoun line and the male presenting line are the ones that the right wing all go on about in every video, in every article… they deadname the character and then misgender and say horrible things about Yasmin… so RTD protects the 50+ year old white man who’s worn way more feminine things then 13 outfit in his career the media could use if they wanted to go after him but don’t protect the 20 year old Trans Woman? How people aren’t talking about how fucked up that is I don’t know.

Then we get no reason why the Doctor has that face and why the clothes regenerated on them. Then in their own regeneration… they don’t! They bi-regenerates and this time Ncuti does get the Doctor clothes, well half of them… why didn’t 15 regenerate with their own clothes? No instead we have the new Doctor walking around with no pants on… and why is it that 15 has to go pantless and not David? are we protecting David again? Perfectly fine to have a bunch of pics of 15 in his tighty whities and no pants but again David could not be seen in 13s full gender neutral outfit. 

Then to top all this off theres no mention in the loves lost of Yaz… even though the Doctor chose to drop her off in a park 3 days ago after telling her if they could Date anyone it would be Yaz… is that not love lost? Was saying good bye to Yaz not an emotional trigger? Now people are saying thats because only the dead were brought up… Rose is not dead unlike Yaz Rose is not only alive in another Dimension but also got herself a Doctor… Yaz currently is mourning the Doctor while they cant even seem to remember she existed despite dropping her off 3 days a go… so they weren’t all dead… however Rose was over 1000 years ago and Yaz 3 days ago… what hurts more the lost of someone you loved but who is still alive from 50 years ago or the one you lost last week? What makes logical sense is the love you lost most recently hurts the most… and people dont need to die for you to hurt losing them from your life if you love them.

Now we have 2 Doctors and people are already saying they can’t wait for David Tennant episodes, so if you think the 10th Doctor overshadowed the other Doctors when he was no longer the Doctor how overshadowed do you think the first main Doctor of colour is going to be when lots of peoples favourite white Doctor ever is also a legitimate Doctor in universe existing at the exact same time with a TARDIS? Ncuti doesn’t event get to be the only Doctor during his tenure he has to share it with David.  

The lastly no mentions of Yaz at all… seems shes completely forgotten and at the very end the Doctor says they are finally with their family the happiest he’s ever been… what a diss of every TARDIS team ever that the Doctor has found family with… your last crew you literally called your ‘Fam’, the Ponds you actually married into… Susan was your flesh and blood… but no this family you haven’t seen in 1000 years, of which only one of who was part of your TARDIS team are the ones you finally found family with and make you the happiest you’ve ever be? Literally at the exact same time the Doctor is sitting at that table saying all of that, Yaz is mourning the Doctor and not wanting to have left the TARDIS, but she doesn’t get a mention because for some reason if it’s a wlw relationship it means nothing and can be ignored completely. 

Honestly by the end the Doctor just seems like a complete prick, and not in a 13 I’m dealing with internal trauma and I accidentally snapped way but just in a I’m a shit person way. Talk about compromised morals, people wouldn’t shut up about it with 13 but the Doctor just left a young woman to mourn them while being the “happiest they have ever been” grabbing themselves a new family and pretending Yaz doesn’t exist. Talk about shit morals. People say Chibs didn’t know anything from 12s era, which wasn’t true it directly affected the way 13 kept the fam at arms length but after watching this clearly RTD didn’t even know what happened in the episode 14 regenerated from 13 in and the previous episode Legend of the Sea Devils, because surely if you did, you wouldn’t not mention Yaz at all and give a reason why the Doctor wouldn’t go see her while she’s mourning them and just grabbing a new family and claiming to be the happiest you’ve ever been in the 2000 years of life you remember. Because that would make the character look like a prick, not a hero, which is exactly what happened. If RTD is the amazing writer people claim, he could have come up with a Yaz mention and a reason why the Doctor wasn’t going to see her.

I know not everyone was happy with the wlw representation with Thasmin but you know what’s way worse? Not even mentioning it or even acknowledging Yaz’s existence.

And to top it off I am so very very over the double standard of the fandom… this episode, had plot holes, had important things that weren’t explained… like why that face and why did the clothes regenerate… things that weren’t explained that weren’t so important like where did the sonic screw driver come from, why can it do all the things it now does… it had racism from both the Toymaker and Donna… what on earth was that line about ‘do you come in every colour’, was paced poorly, it clearly should have been longer and decided to mess with lore by creating bi-rengeration out of thin air and not explaining how it would effect things going forward or why it even happen, like a true WTF… if Chibs had done even one of these things, or wrote this episode the exact same way the fandom would be coming for him instead they are praising the genius of RTD not caring about any of those things, all the sins they claimed Chibs did and some of them on a bigger scale in this episode but the treatment of RTD is the polar opposite. 

It’s unbelievably hypocritical, and makes the fandom look even worse for being so hard on the first female Doctor because none of this was acceptable for her but its not only fine but great with a male Doctor.

So I think it’s time for me to let this show go, and know it’s time to bow out. Because unlike the people who have been horrible about 13 for the last 6 years I understand sometimes you have to step away from something you love when its no longer for you and leave it for other people to love.

Im out with 13.

#13th doctor #thirteenth doctor #thirteen #13 #yasmin khan #thasmin #yaz #yaz khan #13 era #dw

[lyneira]

-> "Your sweet boyfriend, Diluc, who just can't say no to you, also secretly enjoys buying you skimpy outfits to fuck you in"

SMUT - MINORS DNI

diluc x fem!reader / cw: cunnilingus, penetration

lyneira's (18+) mini event: Your Sweet Boyfriend!

@lunargrapejuice 's result:

Even with his stoic demeanor, Diluc spoils you rotten. Whatever you ask for, he'll get it. Heck, if you didn't even ask for anything, he'll get you something nonetheless. From jewelry, precious gems, rare books, to beautiful flowers, he loves seeing the look of surprise and joy on your face when he gifts you anything. He has a generous and loving heart for you, so it's very hard for him to seriously say no to your wishes.

He often leaves presents in your room, also leaving little heartfelt notes beside them,

"These flowers reminded me of you. Just as they are a symbol of a pure devotion and loyalty, let it be a symbol of my devotion and loyalty to you" －Diluc

As much as he enjoys gifting you things, he won't shy away from getting you something for himself too.

So when he leaves an elegant, yet bold and risque piece of clothing as a gift for you on the bed, writing,

"Wear this for me at dinner tonight" －Diluc

on the note beside it, you do so. And just as you've always worn a look of surprise and joy when seeing what he's gifted you, so did he also wear the same expression when you walked into the dining room in your seductive outfit.

Indeed, he was excited for dinner to begin because food wasn't the only thing he'd be eating 😏

In fact, he'd skip the food and go straight to eating you 🤭

With the tent in his pants, he could not wait any longer to take you. So he'd bring you on the table, pinning you down as he devoured your lips, then kissing you ferociously down your neck, ripping the fabric of your clothing open to show some love to your breasts, and then continuing down until he's reached your heat. There, he would finally get to enjoy his favorite meal.

He would eat you out like a man who's been starved for days. He would never fail to suck and lick your cunt so desperately each time, circling his tongue around your clit and sucking the bud to create that lovely knot in your stomach, then licking long stripes up your folds, before finally diving his tongue into your warmth.

From there, he'd let his tongue rub along your walls, exploring your insides, trying to find that spongy spot that'll get you creaming all over his mouth. When he finally finds it, he'll attack that spot relentlessly until you release at last and he'll drink every single drop you pour into his mouth. The sucking noises and squelching that would come from his mouth was a clear indication of how exactly thirsty Diluc was for you.

And he wouldn't stop there. He'd flip you over, pull out his cock, align it to your wet entrance and easily slide himself in. He would be in such bliss, pumping in and out of your deliciously wet pussy that he'd finally allow his mouth to run and confess the thoughts he had been keeping to himself from the moment he saw you walk in.

- "You look so pretty in this...do you know how hard you made me when I saw you wearing it?"

- "You love it when I spoil you, don't you? So c'mon, spoil me too and let me hear you moan for me..."

By the end of "dinnertime", he had already made a mess of your clothes and his own, stained with both of your essences. This is no problem at all though. It just means that he'll get you another skimpy outfit for you to wear, hehe ;)

© 2023 lyneira. PLEASE DO NOT COPY, PLAGIARIZE, OR REPOST MY WRITING ONTO OTHER PLATFORMS

#diluc x reader #diluc smut #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact smut #nene writes~♡ #events~☆ #lyneira's spicy stuff~♤

[ink-flavored]

💈💉👗😶‍🌫️🍅🖤 for pride and justice 🥰

ehHEHhehe thank you!! :3

💈 Have they ever worn a sex toy in public before? Would they like to, or prefer to make someone else wear one?

If you're like Pride and count nipple piercings as sex toys, then yes all the time. If you're normal, then he hasn't, but there's nothing he would enjoy more than being able to get off in public. That's his dream. He would also really appreciate fitting Justice with something, especially one of those app-controlled vibrating plugs so he'd be able to edge him for like... the whole day.

Justice would have to think about it for a while in order to get comfortable with the idea, but the idea of (for example) sitting in church while Pride has the ability to get him off at any time? Yeah that's deeply horny for him. He would only think about giving Pride something to wear if he was asked to do so, because he knows that Pride does not need a toy to get horny in public.

💉 Do they or a partner have any chronic conditions, disabilities, and/or mental health issues that make sex difficult? How do they and their partner(s) accommodate it?

So they both are extremely traumatized in different ways, Pride about his worth and having control over his life, and Justice about his purity and "usefulness." There are definitely ways that certain kink scenes can trigger some unpleasant emotions, but they plan things out as carefully as they can beforehand and talk about it after.

As for physical stuff, I went back and forth about giving Pride chronic muscle spasms when he starts becoming human. The wounds where he got his wings cut out were never able/allowed to heal properly, and as a demon they're just unusually fresh-looking scars that only hurt him emotionally. I thought about making them act more like real improperly healed wounds, considering how deep the cuts were and how traumatic it was, but I don't feel like I'd be able to handle it properly on top of everything else I'm trying to juggle, especially since they don't become more human until the end of the book. In my heart, it's a post-canon thing he has to deal with. Since your back is connected to basically everything, I can absolutely see certain positions or going too hard/fast setting it off. Justice would be more than enthusiastic about giving him massages before and/or after sex though. Maybe doing stretches together.

👗 Do they dress provocatively? How often?

Pride requires all of his outfits to be a minimum 25% slutty at all times. He wants to be the sexiest person at the grocery store. He is never prepared for cold weather.

Justice wears jeans and button-downs when he isn't wearing comfy sweaters or fun-pattered t-shirts. Most of the time he's only ever provocative by accident if you find very specific things provocative (rolled-up sleeves, accidental shirt riding up, etc.). He does have a handful of things that are provocative on purpose, in the brief instances he agrees to go clubbing with Pride and/or his friends. It's infrequent enough that the change in wardrobe is something Pride can always be dramatically horny about.

😶‍🌫️ They get a sultry look from a stranger at a public event, someone they may have only spoken to once, if at all. What’s their next move?

Pride is already across the room asking "my place or yours?"

Justice would have a hard time believing it was happening to him, but would get all flustered about it. He wouldn't go over and make any sort of move, he's simply too shy for that. They would have to come get him themself if they were really committed.

🍅 Is it “having sex”, “fucking”, or “making love” to them? Are they all different categories?

Justice doesn't swear, so he's only ever used the first and third phrases. To him, they're almost the same. There's a small distinction in his mind between "having sex" with Pride (the rougher stuff) and "making love" to him (emotional stuff), but every time they've gone to bed, in his mind, it's been out of love. They wouldn't do these things if they didn't care about each other on some level, even when it's something as simple and lazy as "I'm bored, do you want to have sex?" To Justice, they're different things under one umbrella, love and trust.

For Pride, all three things are rigidly defined categories, especially since he'd never had sex with anyone he loved before Justice. It was all either completely casual, no-strings-attached stuff, or with Lust... he was basically using sex as a coping mechanism and self-harm at the same time. He did not have the healthiest view on sex, the idea of even calling it "making love" was absurd to the point of comedy. After Justice and character development, he like... gets it now. He understands why it can be so emotional.

Still, he has a more casual view about it. "Having sex" is pretty much anything that results in an orgasm that doesn't require a ton of effort, most hook-ups and spontaneous sex with Justice falls into this category (though he will still say "fuck" because he loves swearing). "Fucking" is for explosively lustful activities, or when he's desperate for a lot of sex. Most kink falls into this category and "having sex" can turn into "fucking" if it's rough or lasts for long enough. "Making love" is something he really only thinks about in relation to Justice, and he'd only count a few (very emotional, very vulnerable) times in that category.

🖤 Is their favorite kink different from the one they do the most scenes for? Why the disconnect?

Pride is a huge masochist, and unfortunately this is not something Justice will ever be able to help him indulge in. Hurting other people makes him way too upset, even if Pride is okay with it, so that's something they'll simply never do together. He's gone through the 5 stages of grief about it, but there's always jerking off alone in his room to help him out 🙏

They kinda already do all of Justice's favorite things? I guess one area that Justice likes and Pride is way too impatient for is shibari, since it takes time to learn all the ties and requires sitting still for longer than 2 minutes. Justice mostly practices knots on himself, and Pride knows a few basic ones in case he's in A Mood. Occasionally, Pride will be able to sit still long enough to let Justice try something on him, but it's an uncommon treat.

[try out my second sex and kink OC ask game]

#annika talks #answered #ask game #Pride #Justice #P&J #Pride & Justice

[cielcius]

CHAPTER ONE barely there

SYNOPSIS first meets with your lover aren’t always romantic.

FROM THE WRITER don’t mind that this is a self indulgent drabble accidentally turned series

NOTES & WARNINGS reader is implied to have strappy shoes, cursing, quirkless!au

SERIES the shoe repairman & his lover

Your hands shake as you set the box down on your kitchen counter, barely able to keep yourself still as you slide the lid of the box off to reveal the shoes you had taken forever (about three hours) to search for.

Having been sold out in every store and every off-brand store, you were hungry to get your hands on these shoes the moment they caught your eye. And when you came home to see an awaiting package at your door, you were beyond ecstatic, to say the least.

They were the perfect shoes to wear for the event planned just two days away, already imagining how stunning they would look with your meticulously planned outfit. It almost seemed as if it was fate as you lift the first fold of the tissue paper to reveal... a broken strap.

You take the shoe out before revealing the other one, noting the few scuff marks that litter the sides of both shoes before sighing. Of course, there was a catch.

You glance at the clock high up on your wall, noting the time that was late, but not late enough that the stores will be closing soon—including repair shops.

Without a second thought, you grab your keys and place the shoes back into the box carefully, balancing it under your arm as you toe on the shoes you had worn minutes ago before locking the front door behind you.

On the ride down in the elevator, you take the time to quickly find a shoe repair shop, looking at the many high-praising reviews before settling on the chosen shop that was only a few minutes' walk from your apartment.

When you arrive at the chosen shop, there’s a gentle chime as the door clicks shut behind you, bright lights shining down on the inside of the shop to give the man—the supposed shop owner—a good look at the shoe he seems to be currently working on, his back turned to you. You wait a moment to see if the man is willing to initiate conversation—he is not.

“Excuse me,” You hear him grunt in acknowledgement. “I was wondering if you could fix my shoes. One of them has a broken strap and they both have some marks on the side, but it’s okay if you can’t do anything about the marks.” One way or another, you’d most likely end up coloring over the marks with a marker of the same shade.

“Leave ‘em on the counter. There’s a notepad and pen, your name and number ‘n I’ll call you when they’re ready.” The man doesn’t look up once while speaking—practically grumbling but you decide to trust your instincts, his focus on the shoe he currently holds in his hand, and the many online reviews entailing his work.

Placing the box on the counter that’s separates you from the man, your eyes rarely leave the man’s hunched over figure as your hand flies across the paper that’s left with scribbles of your phone number and name. “Are you sure you don’t need to look at it first?” You set the pen down and wait in uncertainty. You did have a deadline for these shoes.

“I’d like them fixed by the end of tomorrow if you can. I need them for an event—”

“Trust me, I can fix anything. I’ll get ‘em done tomorrow ‘n call you.” There’s some muttering from the man, a grumbling ‘fuck’ before he presumably finishes with the shoe he had been working on and sets it with its other half.

Admittedly, he does do a good job. The other half, covered in dried dirt with stray threads sticking out, had yet to be touched while the finished shoe looks practically untouched by anyone. Though there was still a touch of doubt from the fact that your shoes and those shoes were in completely different genres.

Trust the reviews.

You take one last look at the box set on the counter, looking away to peer at the man who straightens on his stool. His blond hair shines and brightens after being further exposed to light, arms coming to bring up rough hands that clasp together behind his head as he stretches. You can see his back muscles strain under the tight blue-collared shirt, sleeves rolled back to reveal his forearms.

“Okay, thank you, sir.”

With one last look, you linger a moment longer before walking out the door, leaving the man to peer over his shoulder at the long-gone customer.

#the rprmn & his lvr 👞🪡🤎 #bnha x reader #bakugou x reader #mha x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bnha bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #bnha series #mha series

[safyresky]

Scrimbly Jacqueline 9/52: Jacquie's term as Jack Frost in the Santa Clauses.

Yeah, you heard me right! I am stepping my toes into the series with my beloved blorbos. ME! WHO HAS NOT STOPPED COMPLAINING ABOUT HOW BAD THE SERIES IS!

Lore/musings and pre-edited scrimbly under the cut!

RIGHT SO. YEAH! AFTER TWO SEASONS OF JUST THE WORST WRITING AND NONE CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT AND BONES BUT NO MEAT, I HAVE FINALLY FIGURED OUT HOW EXACTLY CS WOULD WORK IN A TSCS UNIVERSE bc, imo, there's no way these two are from the same universe. NO way.

Right, so here's what's going on with Jack and the Frosts in tscs, and why Jacquie is ROCKING this fit. I will try to be succinct:

Jack thaws, changes, reunites with the fam, blah blah blah. Santa's very untrusting and this does not change, and I think maybe the events of CS happen the same way but Santa is a HUGE DICK the ENTIRE TIME.

Blah, blah, Pyros happens, yadda yadda, things go on and Santa just keeps getting worse--refuses to see that Jack has changed, starts saying boomer-esque things in Council meetings, to the point where every Council member can't stand him--and Jack gets the brunt of it

He complains to the fam. Winter and Blaise are like, we do NOT fuck with this Santa guy. Jacqueline is ready to throw down the more Jack tells her about things he says/does at meetings

She's like "Jack. Jack. Please. Let me at him. PLEASE."

Jack's like "We'll file that away for later."

Finally Jack has HAD it, he is too cute and pretty and has worked far too hard for this ABUSE to be levelled at him at the hands of Santa Claus. He's worth it! He knows when to take care of HIMSELF. This is a TOXIC WORK ENVIRONMENT and he will NOT be having ANY MORE OF IT

He steps tf down, Jacqueline takes over, and she is FERAL. She's WORSE than Jack. She makes things a NIGHTMARE for Santa. I have a whole THING planned for how s2 goes with her in Jack's place >:3

And THAT is what's going on here! Jacqueline has stepped up and is ready to THROW DOWN WITH SANTA who is wholly, wholly unprepared

OUTFIT BACKGROUND TIME!

The vest IS JACK'S! She steals it from him! (Santa thinks the vest works the way the Santa jacket does. Jacqueline does not correct him. In fact, she spins a terrifying tall tale of how she killed her predecessor for the spot and took the vest off his slushy, dead, body. Jack thinks it's gd hilarious. Santa is fear.jpeg)

Her hair is still snowy but with more blue and is POOFIER. It is constantly tangled/windswept. POOF BABY.

Speaking of poof: apparently it is PHYSICALLY IMPOSSIBLE for Jacqueline to NOT wear poofy sleeves. Idk why. SO! Poof sleeve dress shirt! I used to have one just like it and I MISS it, it was so elegant~

Skirt is FIT AND FLARE BABY! Or skater skirt style. She thought of bringing back the pencil skirt and went "fuck that", she needs to MOVE and GROOVE

BIKE SHORTS! I am so sorry everyone who has done Jacquie art for this lil fact I'm about to drop on you all: she wears BIKE SHORTS under her dresses and skirts ALL THE TIME. Stops chafing and if she does a flip she's not worried about flashing people, and they are way more comfy than LEGGINGS. Cold doesn't bug her, anyway ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

(She is also prone to overheating easily. Summer sprite blood, everyone expects; I think she's just got too much energy all the time and it keeps her warm)

I did not draw them BUT with this cool work casual ish fit, she still wears her worn grimy leather boots. She's truly the messiest icon.

GREAT friends with the rest of the Claus fam btw; but NOT Scott. And the more she hears from his fam, the angrier she gets lol

AH I am SO EXCITED to unleash this design on y'all. I have been thinking about tscs!cs NON STOP this month! NON STOP! Also, February appears to be the month of FASHION JACQUELINE scrimbles, lol

I tried a lil something different with the hair! Did the messy lines in a light blue then went over it with my very light blue almost white watercolour marker. I like it!

Jack's vest is SO low cut tbh, WILDIN. Very excited when I saw that I DID have a metallic silver prismacolour pencil crayon! It looks GREAT on the VEST and it SHOWED UP IN THE PHOTO! I DIDN'T THINK IT WOULD! :D

Very proud of her hands!! And the way the watercolours worked on her glowy magic hand was AMAZING. I cackled the entire time I coloured this post lining it >:)

Anyway that's all the ramblies for this scrimbly for now. I have a bunch of other silly doods for this lil au? ??? ??? of sorts??? I uh, I prepped for this scrimbly unintentionally. Just started doodling the scenes in my head from this version of cs, so there's some funny lil scrimbles coming your way, eh. Thursday? We'll see! I have one more I NEED to draw out then I will be at peace.

Or I'm a big ol' liar and I will 100% write this whole thing and wake up 100k words later very confused.

Anyway, take the non-edited scrimble! I have yet to find a bright enough place in my house OR at work to take a decent photo of art without shadow or fucky lighting. Ah well. Maybe one day ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

#dani doodles #scrimbly jacquelines #the santa clauses #tscs #tsc3 #ocs #crystal springs #cs aus #tscs!cs #that's gonna be my tag for this nonsense bc this is not the last you will hear of it mark my words #crystal springs cinematic universe #frostverse #i should really pick a name and be consistent with it #frostverse is kinda fun and easy to type #but cscu lets me take all the other lil stories people write involving cs and hoard them!! like a story hoarding dragon!!! #also WOW. #the improvement these silly doodles have given me #and the CONFIDENCE BOOST #now i go for a sketchbook SO FAST when the need really really hits #IT'S ONLY BEEN 2 MONTHS OF THIS GUYS! CRAZY!

[cha-melodius]

If there are still slots open for the Christmas prompts, may I ask for 6. “Is that present for me?” with Lokius? (or 3. “Your lips are cold.” as a backup number). Thank you and I hope you'll reach the 1 000 000 words (also, just saying, that's very impressive!!).

(Ok, so I might have cheated a liiiiiiittle by combining two prompts into one, which was inspired by the fact that @okilokiwithpurpose had prompt #3 as a backup. But hopefully the fact that this fic is 4x as long as most of the others in this challenge makes up for it! I had written a tiny bit of this AU, but never shared, and somehow as I was looking at it again these prompts just slotted into place. So here you go, an actor AU, which I can't believe no one had written for these two before, with some fake dating thrown in for fun. I hope you all enjoy! Also: @an-asgardian I wasn't sure if your AO3 name was different, but let me know and I can gift it to you there if you like!)

True Hollywood Romance

Read it on AO3 (M, 8.1k)

Toronto International Film Festival, early September

“You cannot tell me you’re intending to wear that,” Loki blurts, in lieu of a greeting, the moment he opens the door and sees Mobius standing on the other side of it.

Mobius glances down at his outfit: a grey suit that, yes, he has worn to more than a few previous events. Not that anyone would notice. No one ever asks who Mobius is wearing, he’s never appeared on any fashion lists (best or worst), and that’s the way he likes it. He knows he’ll be comfortable, and he doesn’t have to worry about hurridly-sewn seams failing or a jacket being mistakenly cut too tight across his shoulders. He hasn’t so much cultivated his look as actively not cared about it, and he’s gotten to a point in his career where people were inclined to let him do as he wished.

Until now, it seems. Loki is still staring at him in something akin to horror, which is a bit much. It elicits a knee-jerk reaction to get defensive and dig in his heels, but Mobius shoves it down and forces a tight smile onto his face. This is to be their first official public appearance, and it wouldn’t do to start things off on the wrong foot.

“You have a better idea?” he challenges, raising his eyebrows.

“Go back in time and get a suit that’s properly tailored,” Loki opines, before he sighs, gesturing Mobius into the hotel room. “You can’t wear that shirt.”

“What’s wrong with it?”

Loki gives him a withering look of disdain that is definitely pushing it. “It’s boring, Mobius. Take it off, I have one that will work.”

Mobius sighs out heavily through his nose, trying not to grind his teeth together, and reminds himself that he agreed to this. God knows why. Your career is stagnating. No one’s talking about you, Ravonna had said. You need to shake it up, and this is the perfect opportunity. Then his agent had delivered the final blow: If you want that movie green-lit, you’ll do it.

Fucking Hollywood. Odin Borson had one of the biggest production companies on the block and a troublesome, wild-child son who needed an image rehabilitation. Who better to play the moderating influence than someone who’s never been a front page headline in the tabloids in his life? The TV actor who’d been beloved in the same role he’d played for over a decade, but boring in every other respect? Even when he’d come out several years ago, the news had barely made a ripple. He’s been trying to get this movie made for years, though, so a few months of pretending to date the producer’s kid had seemed like a small price to pay.

He’s not so sure about that anymore, though.

He follows Loki through the palatial suite to an entire walk-in closet of clothes—how on Earth could he have so many, they’re only here for a few days—and waits as the other man roots around a collection of shirts. Loki pulls several out and frowns at them before tossing them away, heedless of where they land. Sequins, ruffles, lace, one that seems to be hot pink— Christ, Mobius needs a drink. 

“I really doubt any of your stuff is going to fit me,” he tries in a last-ditch effort.

“It’ll be close enough,” Loki says, waving him off dismissively. “Keep your jacket buttoned on the red carpet and no one will notice.”

Mobius sighs, again. He has a distinct feeling that his life will be easier if he just lets Loki do what he wants. Within reason. “I’m gonna have a drink. You want anything?”

Loki’s mouth tightens almost imperceptibly. “Not allowed to drink before these things anymore,” he says stiffly, still focusing on the shirts in front of him.

“Oh. Noted.”

Possibly they should have actually talked more before this, but Mobius had counted on film festival red carpets being relatively low pressure when it comes to interviews. Loki has a small part in one of the movies from Odin’s production company, hence the appearance, but he’s not a lead, so no one expects the press to want to talk to them that much. They’ve been provided a few essentially scripted lines about their relationship to use when someone inevitably asks: they met on a ski slope in Vail, hit it off over coffee, etc, etc. Never mind that Mobius has never been to Vail. He doesn’t even ski, unless you count a jet ski.

Mobius briefly wonders if he should also abstain out of courtesy, but he figures Loki would say something if it was going to be a problem. Hopefully it won’t, because there’s no way Mobius is gonna get through tonight without at least one Scotch. He’s pouring a healthy portion into a crystal tumbler from the room’s wet bar when Loki appears at his side again.

“Here. This one,” he says, thrusting the garment into Mobius’s hands. It’s a rich, cerulean blue, and when Mobius holds it out he sees it seems to be a mock turtleneck and also…

“Is this… sparkly?”

“It’s a subtle shimmer,” Loki corrects superciliously. He hesitates for a second and looks away, avoiding Mobius’s gaze, and when he continues his voice is oddly tight. “It will bring out the blue of your eyes.”

Mobius swallows. Loki’s not actually dressed yet, still wearing a bathrobe, the fronts of which have by now slipped open down to where it’s belted at his waist, revealing a tantalizing swath of smooth, sculpted chest and abs that Mobius has to force himself not to stare at. Look, he’s not a monk, and Loki is a very attractive man. That fact may or may not have swayed his decision to go along with this circus. Still, this is all fake. Loki is way out of his league, and he’d do well to remember that.

Of course, he hadn’t banked on having to deal with Loki’s chest all night. It turns out he’s not wearing a shirt at all, only the trousers and jacket of a deep green tux with tails so long and elaborate they’re reminiscent of a skirt. He looks, to put it simply, stunning, and Mobius can’t help but feel a bit dull beside him. Even in a shimmery turtleneck, which, ok, did look better under his suit than what he was planning on wearing.

The appearance goes off without a hitch. They walk the red carpet, talk to a few reporters, smile like they’re enjoying themselves. Loki sleeps through the screening of his own movie, but Mobius is enthralled. He’d never really seen much of what Loki had been in before—mostly a number of prosaic runs as villains in genre flicks and their sequels—but in this he’s utterly arresting. He steals every scene he’s in, few though they might be. It makes Mobius wonder what happened, how he got so off track in his career, because clearly he deserves a lot more.

Halfway through the movie, Loki’s head tips onto his shoulder, and he doesn’t have the heart to move him. Loki jerks awake at the audience’s applause when the credits roll, going red as he realizes that he’d been using Mobius as a pillow. His eyeliner is slightly smudged and his hair is mussed, and the whole picture is far too soft and endearing. Even though they’re surrounded by a couple hundred other people it feels remarkably intimate, and something twists in Mobius’s gut.

This might be harder than he previously expected.

~~~~~

Hollywood, California, late September

“Is that a present for me?” Loki says, a teasing note in his voice and a grin on his face as he slips into the seat opposite Mobius.

They’re sitting outside at a cafe in Hollywood, in full view of the paparazzi that lurk unsubtly across the street. Odin’s people called them, of course. Another of their scheduled appearances, this time a casual lunch. Mobius tries to smile like he doesn’t care that his every move is being documented. He’s never elicited this kind of attention during his entire career, and he’s not at all disappointed about that.

“The very one provided by your manager,” Mobius answers dryly. It had been delivered to his apartment with a note explaining that he was supposed to give it to Loki at the arranged time. “I take it you purchased this for yourself?”

“Mm,” Loki hums as he eagerly tears the top off the box and pulls a luxurious green silk scarf out of it, winding it around his neck. “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about, darling. This a thoughtful gift from my dear beau.”

Mobius feels his face go hot at the fake pet names and blames the sun. “How can you wear that right now? It’s scorching out here today.”

“I’m always cold,” Loki tells him. “So. Honey. Dearest. Beloved,” he says, grinning over the menu at Mobius’s huff as he gets more flustered by the second. Turns out bearing the full brunt of Loki’s charm is a lot. “What looks good?”

Once they get settled in things get easier, though. They actually talk, really talk, for the first time since this whole thing started, and Mobius finds out that Loki’s not only insanely good looking but also sharp and engaging, talking excitedly about this or that project, going off on long tangents about random topics that interest him. It’s so unlike the haughty, stand-offish demeanor that he’s known for that Mobius is thrown off for a second, but he ends up enjoying himself too much to think about it too hard.

“The worst place I’ve ever had to film was definitely actual Siberia,” Loki is saying. They’re now undergoing the actor’s rite of passage in getting to know one another: sharing filming horror stories.

“Oh, that was The Void, right? The post-apocalyptic one,” Mobius says without thinking.

Loki blinks at him. “I thought you hadn’t seen any of my films.”

Mobius’s chewing slows to a halt as he realizes what he’s just admitted. “I mean. I’d seen a couple.” And if, since TIFF, he’d watched all of them, that was his business and nobody else’s.

“No one’s voluntarily seen The Void, Mobius,” Loki teases, a slow grin spreading on his face. “It’s not even on any streaming services.”

That is true. Mobius had had to buy the damned thing, and even finding a copy had been trying. Which was actually a shame, because yes, the movie had been terrible—abysmal writing, with a hackneyed love story forced in at the end—but Loki’s performance was exceptional. He’d played several different versions of the same character, each twisted a little differently, and it had been a bit of revelation.

“Musta caught it when it came out,” Mobius mumbles as he shrugs, avoiding Loki’s too-mirthful gaze. “Anyway, it’s gotta be more fun than always filming on a soundstage. Fifteen years of it gets real old, let me tell you.”

“All those places you traveled to? Pompeii? Those couldn’t have all been sets,” Loki says, which surprises Mobius enough to pull his eyes off his plate again.

“Now who’s been watching old TV series?” Mobius shoots back. “You can’t expect me to believe you saw Murders in the Multiverse when it aired.”

Loki sniffs, trying his best to look as if he hadn’t just been caught out. “Those are all on Paramount Plus,” he says dismissively. “I just put them on in the background for research. Barely paid attention.”

“Right. Research,” Mobius huffs, amused. “Well, they were all sets. Even Pompeii.”

“That’s disappointing.”

“Tell me about it.”

“It couldn’t have been that bad, though,” Loki says, tipping his head slightly. “You stayed for a lot of seasons. Even through that miserable amnesia arc.”

Mobius snorts. “Never overestimate the pull of a steady paycheck. I still get decent residuals from that show. But after a while they didn’t want to pay me what I deserved, and I got bored playing a time cop. Wanted to do something new and different. Get out of my comfort zone.”

“Which is why you’re here,” Loki says, a flat, difficult-to-read expression on his face. If Mobius didn’t know better he’d almost say Loki looked upset, which doesn’t make any sense.

“Yeah, I guess so,” Mobius allows. He picks at his food as they fall into an awkward silence, until finally he decides to just say it. “It’s been nice getting to know you, though.”

Loki looks up at that, slightly surprised, before a careful smile spreads across his face. “Yes. It has.”

~~~~~

New York Film Festival, October

“This is inhumane,” Loki whines the moment they step out of the limo and onto the red carpet.

“You’re the one who insisted on wearing a backless outfit,” Mobius reminds him. “I warned you.”

Not far away from where they stand, the fans lining the barricades are bundled up against the frigid wind of the unseasonable cold snap that had hit New York a day before the festival. Even Mobius is uncomfortably cold, and he’s wearing a wool suit. A new bespoke Italian wool suit that Loki had insisted upon for the festival. He almost wore a scarf, too, before Loki objected. Even though it was a nice scarf. Mobius had thought the outfit was pretty sharp, actually.

Clearly, Loki has somewhat warped views on what is appropriate for the weather, because he’s wearing some kind of shiny something that Mobius doesn’t even know how to describe—like a pair of trousers with a backless waistcoat attached on top, and nothing else. Christ, this man is dead set on ruining him. Especially because he huddles close for warmth, and Mobius has really no choice but to wrap his arms around him as hundreds of camera flashes go off from the press corps area nearby.

They’ve never been this close. Mobius has pressed a hand to his lower back, and Loki has draped himself off Mobius’s elbow, casual signs of affection that are easy, but this is quite beyond that. His hands splay over Loki’s bare skin as Loki tucks himself against his chest, and suddenly their faces are bare inches apart.

“You should kiss me,” Loki murmurs.

Mobius’s brain experiences a full shutdown, and it takes several moments to reboot. “What?” he manages, his voice strangled.

“We haven’t kissed for the cameras yet.”

Mobius does not remind him that they have not kissed at all, because they’re not actually dating. They don’t have to kiss. Lots of celebrity couples keep those things more private. Certainly plenty of them have never locked lips on the red carpet. Of course, Mobius knows as well as Loki that there have been rumors—blind items, chatter in the tabloids—that their relationship is just for PR. Which is true, but that’s not what they want people to think. A kiss would help sell it. That’s all this is.

No more than a few seconds can have passed, but it feels like an eternity before he manages to give a small nod. Loki is taller than him, so he has to stretch up on his toes a little as Loki dips his head to meet him. It doesn’t need to be more than a chaste press, but Loki’s lips, slightly tacky from the gloss he’s wearing, move softly against his and linger with the barest tug on Mobius’s lower lip as they part. It very effectively punches all the air from his lungs and leaves him reeling, which is kind of suboptimal because they’re still standing on the red carpet. Then there’s the fact that Loki just stares at him after they part, his eyes slightly wide like he hadn’t really meant to do that.

“Your lips are cold,” Mobius blurts, somewhat nonsensically, because he has no idea what else to say.

It turns out to be the right thing, though, because Loki laughs softly. “Can’t imagine why,” he drawls. He pulls away slightly, and Mobius tries not to feel disappointed about that. “Can we go inside now?”

“Just a few more minutes, sweetheart.” The endearment slips out, and he can feel Loki staring at him, but he doesn’t look over.

Instead, he does his job. Slide to the side so Loki’s outfit is visible. Lace their fingers together when Loki grabs his hand. Smile for the cameras.

Ignore the massive, hard knot settling into his gut.

~~~~~

Paris, France, November

“Yeah, I got it,” Mobius says over the phone as he wrestles his suitcase through the narrow hallway. “I’ll read it soon. It does look interesting.”

“The director specifically inquired about your schedule,” Ravonna tells him. “This is a very good sign, Mobius. You’re on people’s minds.”

“I know,” he sighs, because he’s tacitly admitting that she was right.

Even if this movie isn’t what he’s after, the fact that people are actually interested in him for the first time in… well, he can’t remember—it’s definitely good. And a little surprising. It’s not that he didn’t think the plan would work, but— ok, he didn’t really think this plan would work. Apparently he was wrong about that.

The numbers on the door to the hotel suite that’s been booked for them are ornately wrought in gold leaf, and he blinks at them for a moment before fumbling with the key. To say he doesn’t stay in places like this would be vastly understating things. The concierge had looked almost offended when he said he could handle is own bags. He’s a simple guy, not built for a life like this. Ravonna is rambling in his ear as he finally manages to get the door open, but when he steps into the suite he interrupts her without a thought.

“Ravonna, I’m gonna have to call you back.”

It’s huge, of course, and outfitted in Rococo fashion, with a large sitting area, what looks to be an office-slash-library, another sitting room, a bathroom larger than his first apartment, and a bedroom with a massive four-poster bed. One bed. He’s still staring at it when Loki pops up from where he’d been reclining on one of the couches and walks over to him.

“Where’s the bellboy?” he asks, peeking around Mobius’s back as if one might be hiding there. “I was going to send for champagne.”

“It’s ten in the morning,” Mobius protests, only half paying attention.

“Mimosas, Mobius. Catch up.”

“Sorry, is that the only bed in here?”

Loki pauses in his route to the room’s telephone and looks back at him, confused. “Of course. Didn’t they tell you?”

“Tell me what?”

“One of those blind items about us was definitely leaked by a hotel staff member. The one about separate rooms? We can’t afford those kinds of rumors. Hence.” Loki waves his arm at the bed, then blithely continues on to the phone.

It makes sense of course, they would be sharing a room and a bed if they were really dating, but that doesn’t make it any easier for Mobius to deal with. “I guess there are a lot of couches,” he allows. None of them look like they’ll be great for his back, but it’s only a couple of days.

Loki frowns at him. “You can’t honestly be planning to sleep on a couch, Mobius,” he scoffs. “The bed is plenty big enough for the two of us. Plus, the cleaning staff might notice.”

“Yeah, of course,” Mobius says, biting down on an exasperated sigh. He’s jet lagged, and exhausted, and being reminded of how much of an act this whole thing is frays his last nerve. “It never ends,” he groans.

“I don’t understand why you’re so upset about this,” Loki counters. “It’s not that big of a big deal.”

“Heaven forbid we actually get some moments where we don’t have to be performing, even when we’re alone!”

Loki goes stiff, his mouth narrowing in to a hard line, and Mobius knows he’s made a mistake. “Well. I’m sorry that this is so difficult for you,” he says, his voice cold and calm in the very worst way.

“Now wait a second, it’s not about—” Mobius tries, but Loki cuts him off.

“Excuse me, I need to use the restroom,” he says, then turns swiftly on his heel and marches into it, slamming the door behind him.

Mobius winces. Christ, he mucked this one up good. They’d been getting along so well that it’d been easy to sell that they enjoyed each other’s company, but this certainly isn’t going to help things. This trip was supposed to be a ‘romantic Parisian getaway’ for the two of them. Now it seems like they’ll be testing the limits of their acting ability. Bitterly, he thinks that Loki’s clearly a good enough actor that he shouldn’t have any trouble.

The bathroom door stays firmly shut for a long time, so Mobius the only thing he really he can. He unpacks the clothes that will wrinkle and puts them out to be pressed, pokes around the library for any interesting books—which he discovers must be mostly treated for show, given that they clearly haven’t been opened in quite a long time, and anyway are all in French—he even orders a bottle of champagne sent up, along with some fresh squeezed orange juice for good measure. After a while, when Loki still hasn’t emerged, Mobius hesitantly approaches and knocks softly.

“Loki? You ok?”

At first it doesn’t seem like there will be an answer, but there’s a soft curse, then the door flings open and Loki stares at him blankly. He’s wearing a bathrobe, and his hair is wet.

“Were you showering?” Mobius asks without thinking. It’s not really any of his business.

“I was in the bath,” Loki answers, his voice even. His face his carefully arranged, neither upset nor relaxed, but still, Mobius can’t help but feel like they took three steps backwards. “Did you want the shower?”

“Actually, yeah, if it’s not too much trouble. Planes, you know,” Mobius tries, offering a tentative smile.

“Right, of course,” Loki says with excessive politeness. “It’s all yours.”

“I ordered that champagne you wanted, by the way,” Mobius offers. “Orange juice too. Dunno if there was any other fancy stuff you wanted.”

That seems to take Loki by surprise. “Oh. Thank you.”

“Look, I’m sorry about earlier,” Mobius says in a rush, wanting to get it out before Loki can interrupt him again. “I was just— well, tired from all the travel, and I reacted poorly. You’re right, the bed is huge. And for what it’s worth, this isn’t difficult for me. I mean, spending time with you. I enjoy it.”

Those words have the curious property of being simultaneously entirely too honest and a massive lie, because this has in truth become incredibly difficult for him. Difficult not to give himself away. Difficult to reconcile what they do in public with their actual relationship. Difficult to keep from falling further and further in love with Loki every moment they spend together.

Loki’s expression softens, stuck somewhere between disbelief and relief before one corner of his mouth finally tugs upward. “That’s— well, that’s nice of you to say.”

“It’s the truth, Loki. You’re a great person.”

“That’s not a common opinion, I’m afraid,” Loki says dryly, quirking an eyebrow at him.

“Well, they’re wrong,” Mobius insists. “They don’t really know you.”

“And you do?”

Mobius nods confidently. “I do now. And I know I’m lucky to be your… friend,” he finishes, just managing to avoid saying something absurd like boyfriend or partner. They’re friends now, that’s not a stretch to say.

For some reason Loki flinches at that, though, so subtly it’s almost invisible. Then he’s smiling quickly to cover it, falling into his usual teasing tone as he says, “You’re right, you are lucky, Mobius. Two days of basking in my glorious presence. How will you survive?” Barely, Mobius thinks, but he chuckles all the same. “Hey, you wanna go out after this? I’m famished, and we could see some sites?”

“Sure you want to?” Loki asks, his expression sobering a touch. “We could just order room service. I mean, if you want some time off from performing…”

Yup, Mobius is gonna regret saying that for a long time. He can’t explain that it’s easy for him to act like he’s Loki’s boyfriend. That he’s not actually pretending when he ends up giving him smitten looks from across a cafe table. (Mobius has seen the paparazzi photos in the tabloids. Photographic proof of how utterly gone he is, which is all fine because that’s what they want the world to see. People don’t realize that Mobius isn’t that good of an actor. Not this time, anyway.)

Instead, he says, too honest once again, “No, I want to. Do you come to Paris a lot?”

“Yes.”

“Then show me your favorite places, ok?”

“All right,” Loki says, slowly smiling again. A genuine smile this time, pleased, like no one’s ever asked him for something like that before. “It’s a date.”

It is a date, so much a date that Mobius has to remind himself frequently that it’s not real. They eat crêpes at a café, their legs tangling together under the table, then Loki drags him off to obscure museums and tiny yet stunning churches. They stroll through the Tuileries hand-in-hand as Loki eats gelato despite the cold, and Loki leans in to kiss the corner of his mouth as they sit by the Seine. (The thrill Mobius gets at that is severely tempered by the fact that he can see the paparazzi photographing them from across the river. It’s just a photo op. It’s always a photo op.)

It’s dark outside by the time Loki leads him to the catacombs, which Mobius is pretty sure are actually closed. Not that that makes much of a difference when you’re as famous and filthy rich as Loki. What it means, though, is that they have the place to themselves, which is actually pretty creepy considering they’re surrounded by row upon row of stacked human bones.

“Of course this would be one of your favorite places,” Mobius laughs.

Loki scoffs in obviously put-upon offense, pressing one elegant hand to his chest. “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“How often do you come here?”

“Every time I’m in the city,” Loki admits, grinning at him.

He’d walked a bit ahead, but now he comes back to stand by Mobius’s side as he stares up at the vaulted ceiling near where they’d entered. Mobius is so distracted by their surroundings that he doesn’t notice Loki reaching out until a hand slips into his, linking their fingers together. His head snaps to the side in surprise, but Loki is looking resolutely away.

“There’s no one here, you know,” he ventures, because apparently he can’t let himself have nice things.

“I know,” Loki says. He flashes a quick smile Mobius’s way before turning back to their surroundings. His fingers loosen a bit, as if giving Mobius the chance to pull away, which is of course the last thing Mobius wants to do. He tightens his own grip, and thinks he sees Loki’s lips quirk into a smile before he starts tugging him down a corridor.

Loki talks animatedly as they walk, telling stories about the catacombs that may or may not be factual, but Mobius finds that he doesn’t really care. He spends more time looking at Loki, anyway, at the way that the warm light reflects off the walls and illuminates the cut of his cheekbones and the curve of his lips. Maybe parts of this aren’t real. Maybe Loki isn’t really his, not in the way he wants, but Mobius wasn’t lying when he said he was lucky to call him a friend, and he decides then that he’s going to enjoy the time he does get, no matter how much it hurts in the end.

~~~~~

Torino Film Festival, December

Mobius doesn’t walk the red carpet in Torino; his flight is due to get in late, and Loki is busy with a press event for his movie anyway. He’s due to meet Loki later for some exclusive party, but in the mean time he has work to do; his agent managed to score him a dinner meeting with a director he’s always admired but never dreamed he’d get to work with, and who’s got a new, hush-hush movie entering pre-production soon. He refuses to get his hopes up, but the meeting goes really well, even if it does take an unexpected turn near the end.

“I hear you’re involved with Loki Odinson now,” the director says conversationally.

“Yeah,” Mobius confirms, a little uncomfortably. He’s never sure what to say when people start asking about his personal life, and it’s even more awkward now. “Do you know him?”

“Oh, yes. He was supposed to be in one of my movies a couple of years ago.”

“What happened?”

The director gives him an inscrutable look. “The official reason was scheduling,” he says after a moment. “But we couldn’t insure him.”

Shit, Mobius should have known. A ‘couple of years ago’ was when Loki started sliding off the rails: partying endlessly, walking off sets, publicly picking fights with his golden-boy actor brother. Loki generally doesn’t talk about it, so he knows very little but what was in the press, which is probably half bullshit and anyway definitely not the whole story. He’s not sure what he’s supposed to say, how much he should know, but in the end he doesn’t really need to say anything.

“You seem good for him,” the director continues. “I always did think he just needed someone to really believe in him. I’m glad he found that.”

“Er, thanks,” Mobius manages, his throat abruptly tight. “I don’t think I have a lot to do with it, though.”

“Come now, Mobius. Don’t you know you’re in the film industry? Never sell yourself short,” he says, a smirk playing on his lips.

Mobius is still pondering his words while he’s waiting near the entrance to the party for Loki to arrive so they can go in together. He’s running late, of course, so Mobius ends up so wrapped up in his own thoughts that he doesn’t notice Loki’s approach until the other man is nearly in front of him. When he does, though, his mouth nearly drops open. Loki is wearing what amounts to little more than minuscule black hot pants with a sheer body suit over them, the gossamer fabric spotted with green crystals and black lace that resolves somewhat into snakes and foliage as he gets closer. Very few people could pull something like that off, but Loki is absolutely one of them.

Now Mobius understands the emerald green jacket and black silk shirt Loki had sent him to wear. They actually look like they belong together, complementary but not too matchy-matchy, though Loki still outshines him by several megawatts. Loki smirks at his no doubt stunned expression, reaching up to unbutton several the shirt almost halfway down his chest, then drags his hands down Mobius’s front and leans in close to his ear.

“It’s a party, Mobius,” he murmurs before Mobius can object. “Live a little.”

They’re extensively photographed standing in front of some kind of wall made of dense shrubbery before finally they can go inside. There, at least, there won’t be any press or paparazzi, though still plenty of eyes on them. It should be relatively low pressure, and it is at first; they chat with the other guests, and though Loki knows more people than him, he does run into someone he did a movie with years ago and who he has a nice time catching up with. But then, as the night gets later, Loki insists on dragging him onto the dance floor. Mobius doesn’t dance. It’s just not in his makeup, but there’s no saying no to Loki. That’s what he tells himself, instead of admitting that he’s a complete pushover where this man is concerned.

Mobius does his best to try to move to the beat, which makes Loki laugh at him and grab his hips in an attempt to get him to swing them, or something. It’s definitely not going to work. What’s worse, though, is when Loki gives up and just starts grinding against him. Christ, Mobius doesn’t know where to put his hands, and he knows this isn’t supposed to be a big deal but it’s a lot to have Loki pressed against him like this, and if he keeps it up things are going to get really uncomfortable really fast—

“Need some air,” Mobius gasps, wrenching himself away and stumbling off the dance floor.

He has no idea where he’s going, but he finds an exit into some kind of enclosed courtyard. There are a few people scattered around, mostly smoking, but they pay him no attention as he hurries past them and finds a relatively secluded alcove behind a bush to collapse into. It’s quiet outside and no one disturbs him, which is why he jumps a mile when a hand lands on his shoulder a short time later.

“Mobius?” Loki asks, staring at him in concern. “Are you ok?”

“Oh yeah, fine and dandy,” he lies with an admittedly weak smile. “Just got a little tight in there, is all.”

“We can leave, if you want.”

“Only if you’re ready. I don’t want to cut your night short.”

Loki sighs, and leans against the wall next to him. “These things are never quite as fun when you’re sober.” He shivers almost violently in the winter chill, crossing his arms over his front, which does precisely nothing when you’re wearing as little as he is.

Mobius doesn’t really think, just says, “c’mere,” and pulls him into his arms, wrapping him up against the cold, and Loki tucks himself against him. It’s like New York all over again, except there aren’t a hundred cameras and screaming fans around them. Just them. Just Loki’s face, so close to his. Without planning to, he reaches up and presses a thumb to the side of Loki’s lower lip, and it still feels warm against his finger but he wonders if it would be cold against his mouth.

“Mobius,” Loki whispers.

He doesn’t know which of them moves first, or maybe they both move at once, but those lips are on his again, and it’s nothing like the brief, press-approved pecks that they’ve shared before. Loki tips his head and slots their mouths firmly together, parting his lips, licking past his teeth almost tentatively at first and then with more confidence when their tongues tangle together. They kiss and they kiss until Mobius’s lungs are burning, but he doesn’t dare pull away, doesn’t dare to break the spell. Then Loki shifts in his arms, and the press of their bodies together draws a low groan from his throat that finally makes Loki withdraw. Mobius is prepared for regret, or excuses, or an attempt to laugh it off—anything but how dark his eyes are when they meet Mobius’s.

“We should go,” Loki says, and the low, rough tone of his voice reaches all the way into Mobius’s gut and tugs.

It’s a miracle that they make it back to the right limo, and no sooner has Mobius settled into the back than Loki is climbing directly into his lap. There’s a broad, mischievous grin on his face before he ducks down to kiss a path along the edge of Mobius’s jaw and onward to work a spot below his ear in a way that Mobius is almost certain is going to leave a mark. Christ, it doesn’t matter, though, because it’s so damned good. His hands slide up Loki’s thighs over the lace bodysuit until his thumbs hit the crease of his hips, and when he digs his fingers into the sides of his ass Loki moans and his hips grind forward against the rapidly tightening region of Mobius’s pants.

“You want me,” Loki murmurs near his ear, punctuating it with a little nip to the taut muscle of his neck before he sits back with a teasing smile.

“Of course I do, you absolute demon,” Mobius groans. “Look at you.” He plucks at the lace. “This isn’t clothes. I swear you’ve been trying to drive me insane.”

“Is it working?” Loki asks, bending down close to the side of his face again.

“What do you think?” Mobius growls, then captures his mouth in another bruising kiss.

Getting up to the hotel room is a fucking trial, mostly because Loki refuses to detach himself from Mobius. Thank god there’s a discreet, private entrance to the hotel and an elevator that takes them nearly directly up to their suite. Somehow Loki manages to shed the bodysuit almost instantly—Mobius doesn’t even understand how it was fastened—leaving him in just the skin-tight booty shorts, and Mobius short-circuits briefly at the sight of all that bare skin. Then there’s the way his half-hard cock is straining against the fabric, which sends a jolt of white-hot desire surging deep into Mobius’s gut. Loki turns and walks toward the bedroom, swinging his hips in a way that should be illegal, and by the time Mobius manages to scramble after him he finds Loki perched on the edge of the bed and leaning back on his hands.

“Come here,” he says, his voice nearly a purr, and Mobius’s feet obey before he even registers the request.

He stands between Loki’s spread legs as the other man looks up at him through long eyelashes thick with mascara, and feels like he’s standing on the edge of a precipice. “Are you sure you want to do this?” he murmurs, letting his fingers trail lightly across Loki’s cheek. It seems impossible, but there’s no mistaking the hungry look Loki is giving him.

“Why not?” Loki asks, one perfect eyebrow arcing upward. “You want me. I want you. It doesn’t have to be complicated.”

Right. It doesn’t have to mean anything, he might have well said. Which is true. It doesn’t have to. It can just be two people finding pleasure in each other’s company. Friends with benefits are a thing. Not a thing that Mobius has ever done, but a thing nonetheless. Loki is offering everything he wanted (not everything), everything he never thought he’d get (not even close).

Why not, indeed?

After all, it’s simple enough to lean down to kiss him in answer, to let Loki’s nimble fingers efficiently divest him of his shirt and trousers. It’s simple to lose himself in the eager slide of hands and the slick heat of Loki’s mouth; so very simple to push him backward into the bed and take him apart with mouth and fingers until he’s begging, to press inside him and surrender to the pleasure that floods through his body and overwhelms all of his senses.

What’s not simple is how he feels afterward, when Loki sprawls sleepily across his chest and tangles their legs together under the covers. When they spend all night like that, wrapped up in each other’s arms. When, the next morning, Loki acts like absolutely nothing has changed, like he hasn’t just completely upended Mobius’s life.

Mobius lays in the bed for a while, just watching as Loki blithely prattles on about their schedule for the day while he rifles through his wardrobe, and then he knows: it’s going to be fucking complicated.

~~~~~

Hollywood, California, New Year’s Eve

Mobius doesn’t know what he was expecting after Loki texts him and tells him to come over early before the party, that he should bring his suit and get ready at his place, but it wasn’t for Loki to drag him inside by the collar and press him against the wall by the door. Certainly he wasn’t expecting to be kissed breathless, or for Loki to lean in close and whisper, “Will you fuck me before we go tonight?”

They’ve slept with each other a few times since Italy. Usually after one of their scheduled appearances—which Loki now fills with suggestive innuendos and hidden, risqué touches because apparently his new goal in life is to make Mobius’s life as difficult as possible—but once Loki showed up at his house in L.A. in the middle of the night wearing nothing but a silk robe and a wicked grin. Sex with Loki is frequently playful and teasing, sometimes tender (Mobius tries not to think to hard about those moments), always mind-blowing, but it’s never been like this. Desperate. He doesn’t know what to do with that, but he also doesn’t know how to say no to Loki, so he nods and lets himself be dragged off toward the bedroom.

For someone who’s main goal seemed to be sex, Loki is surprisingly fully dressed in black slacks and a plain white button-down, as if his unexpected request was a last minute decision. He allows Mobius the handful of seconds it takes him to hang up his suit for tonight on an empty hook in the closet before he pounces, pulling him into another bruising kiss as his hands drop to Mobius’s belt. It’s overwhelming, frankly, but not so overwhelming that he doesn’t feel Loki’s hands tremble as they fumble with the buckle, and that yanks him firmly out of the hazy, lust-fueled fantasy.

“Hey, hold on a second,” Mobius says as he traps Loki’s hands with his own. “What’s going on with you?”

Loki actually whines in frustration, trying ineffectually to tug out of Mobius’s grip before fixing him with a scathing glare. “Nothing. I’m fine,” he growls. “Are you going to fuck me or not?”

“Actually, no. Not if you don’t tell me what’s gotten into you,” Mobius tells him flatly, punctuating it with an unimpressed look that makes him turn his face away. “This isn’t like you, Loki.”

“How would you know what’s like me?” Loki snaps, finally yanking his hands out of Mobius’s grasp and storming across the room. “A few months and you’re an expert now?”

“I think I know you pretty well, yeah,” Mobius counters, “and I know when you’re upset.”

“I’m not upset,” Loki hisses in a way that does nothing to sell that assertion. “I’m just tense about tonight and need something to take the edge off. If you’re not interested, I’m sure I can find someone else.”

Mobius can’t quite suppress a wince, but he summons what mettle he can and stares defiantly back at Loki. “Sorry, not buying it.”

The look Loki gives him is pure ice. “You think I can’t? That I couldn’t call up any number of people and have them here at a snap of my fingers?”

“Oh no, I believe that part,” Mobius says with a humorless chuckle and an utterly mirthless smile. He makes himself stroll casually over to where Loki stands, getting into his space again. “I’m sure you could get just about anyone. I don’t think you will, though, because you won’t violate the agreement.”

The agreement—worked out between Loki’s people and Mobius’s people, and which they had precisely no say over—specified that neither of them would sleep with other people for the duration, no matter how discreet they thought they could be, because the potential for a leak was just too great. For Mobius, it certainly wasn’t going to be a problem. He didn’t fool himself that it would be the same for Loki. After Torino he’d written the sex off as a fluke, a moment of madness on Loki’s part perhaps, but when it kept happening he figured that the only reason Loki was sleeping with him now was because he couldn’t have anyone else. It made more sense than the alternative, that Loki actually wants him, of all people.

Loki stares at him for a long moment, his eyes dipping to Mobius’s lips in a way that seems almost involuntarily before he drags them back up again. When he speaks again his voice is so low it’s nearly a murmur. “How do you know I haven’t already?”

“Because I know you, Loki,” Mobius answers, just as quietly. “Maybe you are tense about tonight, but that’s not all of it. So I’m gonna ask again: what’s going on?”

Another beat. Loki looks off across the room, biting his lower lip so fiercely Mobius thinks he’s going to draw blood, and when he finally turns back he looks… shattered. “Tonight’s your final obligation,” he says, his voice unsteady. “Must be a relief.”

“…What?”

He swallows and sniffs, tipping his chin up in a weak pantomime of indifference. “No more performing. You won’t have to pretend any longer.”

Mobius can’t help it: he laughs. He doesn’t mean to, especially since Loki’s clearly upset about this in some way that he can’t quite figure out, but the whole thing is just absurd.

Predictably, Loki looks taken aback at this response. “What’s so funny?”

“Loki, I haven’t been pretending for months,” Mobius sighs. At this point, it seems silly to hold anything back. He might as well know. “I’m in love with you. So if you think tonight is going to be a relief, well. You couldn’t be more wrong.”

In all the ways he might have pictured Loki reacting to such news, he never expected him to look utterly baffled. “But…” Loki trails off, searching Mobius’s face; for what, Mobius doesn’t know. “You can’t be.”

“Oh, I assure you, I can,” Mobius says, smiling a little miserably. Loki’s just staring with his mouth hanging open, so he forges on. “Look, I know you didn’t want things to be complicated, and this is the exact opposite. I never wanted to put you in this position—”

The rest of whatever he was going to say is cut off when Loki kisses him again, and there’s some desperation in it, sure, but not in the same way. Not even close. Loki’s hands are holding either side of his face, long fingers digging into his hair, his kisses slow, deep, and utterly all-encompassing. Mobius has never been kissed like this, with such focus and care, with such pure emotion poured into it and leaking out with every gasped breath. Even when Loki finally breaks the kiss he presses their foreheads together, like he can’t bear any further space between them.

“Please, complicate it,” he breathes into the narrow gap, shifting his head slightly so their noses brush together.

“Does that mean…?” Mobius trails off, because it kinda feels like a stupid question, but still. He’d like to be sure.

Loki pulls back so he can look him in the eye as he says, “I’m in love with you, Mobius. I just never thought…” He glances down and gives his head a little shake. “You’re one of the few genuinely good people in this business, you know that? I don’t deserve you.”

“Hey, no. None of that,” Mobius says, cupping a hand around Loki’s cheek and urging his face upward again. “I won’t have you talking badly about the person I love,” he teases gently.

“Mobius,” Loki groans as he rolls his eyes.

“You are good, Loki,” Mobius insists, his expression sobering. “You are.”

He honestly expects more arguing, but Loki just looks off across the room, the corners of his eyebrows thoughtfully quirking upward in the middle. “I wanted it to be real,” he says quietly. “But the further things went, the more I convinced myself it never could be. That you’d never… never really feel that way about me. Even now, I feel as if this is some kind of fever dream. I’m going to wake up tomorrow and you’ll be gone.”

“I won’t be,” Mobius promises, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind Loki’s ear. “Is that what this was all about? One last hurrah before the end?”

“Something like that,” Loki admits wryly. Perfect white teeth dig into his lower lip as he slowly drags it through them. “I wanted it to be hard and rough. I wanted to feel you for days afterward.”

“Jesus Loki,” Mobius huffs, gaping at him in disbelief. He swallows hard, unsure of how to respond to that. “And now? What do you want?”

Loki lifts a hand to Mobius’s face, dragging a finger lightly along his hairline and down to the crest of his cheekbone. “Just you,” he murmurs. “In whatever way you’ll have me.”

How about that? It turns out that it is simple, after all.

#lokius #loki x mobius #mobius x loki #loki laufeyson #mobius m. mobius #loki tv #loki series #loki fanfic #lokius fanfic #lokius fic #time husbands #wowki #my fic #1 million words challenge

[luuurien]

MJ Lenderman - Boat Songs

(Indie Rock, Alt-Country, Country Rock)

The Wednesday guitarist unveils his latest solo outing, his best yet that takes the developments made during his time in the band and inserts them perfectly into his own rugged country-gaze tunes. Boat Songs is a fast-moving, hard-hitting collection of MJ Lenderman's most soul-baring songwriting to date, taking the intimacy of the everyday and exploring how anger, violence and disruption forever change their look.

☆☆☆☆½

The most fun thing, at least for me, when a band's musicians release their own music, is seeing how their time with the band morphs and recontextualizes their songs while still showing their own individual artistic streak. It's why Big Thief's incorporation of some of Adrianne Lenker's solemn folk songs into their own discography is so electrifying, or why the consistently-discussed solo work of each Beatles member gives a deeper look into how the band both grew together and apart from one another when given the chance to branch their own path. For MJ Lenderman, guitarist for the Ashville, North Carolina outfit Wednesday, this is similarly the case, with a few more caveats: namely, the fact that his songs as an individual don't sound too far off from anything Wednesday does in sound or spirit. They both base their sound off a mix of quintessential 90s indie rock, 60s and 70s Americana, and the explorative edge of modern shoegaze and noise pop, lyrical themes that circle around the same feelings of loss, anxiety and destruction; it'd be easy to throw any of his songs onto a Wednesday album without it sticking out too much. With his third solo album Boat Songs, Lenderman continues to refine his musicianship while using his work in Wednesday to make that happen, a perfect middle between the band's sensitive shoegaze and Lenderman's more energetic affairs. Giving us a deeper look into Lenderman's mind than any part of Wednesday's discography, Boat Songs' eccentric brand of rugged alt-country rock keeps the fuzzy shoegaze edge of his first two albums while taking advantage of all the extra space and glamor of this being his first studio-recorded album. His guitars are loopy, loose and full of character with each strum, his vocal leads drowsy and bouncy like a spring lock unwound and swung in the air, and most importantly, his energy completely set free. While these songs are absolutely soaked in distortion and feedback, they rarely lean on the immersive side of that style, the huge chords he slams down on opener Hangover Game heavy enough to fit on any modern shoegaze album but contextualized here in a driving country rock tune that doesn't stop for even a second; even when he tries something a little less upfront with Dan Mariano that sounds like an indie rock song found in the corner of a boat you can still feel the drum's pulse with a forward motion, Lenderman's refrain of "take it away" 1:40 into the track the perfect way to lead into You Are Every Girl to Me's snappy drum pads and delightfully bitter guitar leads mixed with the whiskey-smooth stretch of a slide guitar. The stripped-down sound of Boat Songs, rarely much more than guitars, drums and voice, gives an inherent sincerity to the sound of the music that then allows Lenderman's writing to hold onto that heart-on-sleeve quality while testing it out in more playful territory: Toontown using the titular Who Framed Roger Rabbit city to explore the feelings that come with losing your composure in front of the one you love, the slight silliness in a couplet like "Did you find my Disney World? / Did it make you dizzy, girl?" renders heartbreaking in Lenderman's hands, and the well-worn country motif of cars to give shape to the loss of agency and the loneliness that comes with fucking something up you knew could have been avoided on Under Control. He has a way of making casual events and images feel like devastation on a planetary scale, expensive meat the catalyst for a ruined night and someone's boyfriend's car keys making him realize how unable he is to stop himself from loving someone already in a relationship. Every story he tells is one you could easily imagine encountering in your own town, and that close connection makes all ten of Boat Songs' songs hit that much harder. Lenderman's use of dinner-table storytelling allows his writing to extend outwards towards the sky, avoiding becoming insular by evoking indescribable feelings in the inviting warmth of the everyday. Atop You Have Bought Yourself a Boat's chirping clavichords and light guitar work, Lenderman utilizes unusual romantic gestures ("Your laundry looks so pretty / Soft threads hanging and relaxing in the wind") and juxtaposes them with similarly minuscule troubles, bug bites and angry neighbors, to create a place in which his sadness and his joy can coexist with the same amount of love given to each, doing the same later on finale Six Flags where his theme park setting gives weight and color to a one-sided relationship. Even though Boat Songs is centered on themes as general and expected as love, melancholy, romance and the like, Lenderman's writing lends an air of genuine heart to these stories that never feel overwrought or trite once. TLC Cagematch centers itself on pro wrestling that secretly acts as the allegory for watching someone hurt themselves and having no way to stop it, his final verse's soft-spoken "It’s hard to see you fall so flat / From so high up hard down on the [sic] matt" focusing in on this one moment and not letting the lighthearted WWE concept take away from his music's impact. All ten songs are fantastic regardless: Hangover Game hits as hard as the night of partying preceding that hangover and the my bloody valentine levels of drowning guitar bliss on the two-minute long SUV is so urgent and electrifying that it alone could justify listening to Boat Songs in full at least once, but what makes the album work so well is how resolute and whole it is as a full listening experience. In just 34 minutes, Lenderman is able to pull you into his world of hot, muggy North Carolina days where his music is the perfect place for that desire to express to be let out. While not polished per-se, Boat Songs is MJ Lenderman's most smooth-flowing album to date that preserves its rough, woodsy edge while shedding the unsure edges of his previous projects, resulting in one of the year's best rock albums and a masterclass in how to disarm and subsequently reveal your deepest scars to an audience through music. He is completely and utterly himself here, never taking things too seriously to make things feel too unapproachable - there's a reason songs are named Toontown and Dan Mariano - while always keeping it real enough so that you can feel what he's going for every time.  You can both rock out and have a breakdown to Boat Songs (or possibly both at once), and Lenderman's ability to strike that balance so well is the mark of both an incredible musician and an incredible album, taking only the best parts of the 90s indie rock his music is indebted to and seeing how far he can take them with his own charming twist. While not enough time has passed to know whether or not Boat Songs will feel the same come a few years in the future, it's an album that feels like it'll only get better with time from the jump, that each new spin of the album will only make you fall in love with it more as Lenderman's timeless sound steeps even longer with you, and right now it's a truly magnificent album regardless of what the future might have to say about it. Lenderman revels in every minute he allows himself to have here, and if you let yourself do the same, Boat Songs is nothing but gratifying.

#mj lenderman #boat songs #dear life #alt-country #country #country rock #garage rock #indie rock #lofi / slacker rock #noise pop #noise rock #rock #shoegaze #singer/songwriter #slowcore #2022 #9/10

[edactually]

Ed POV - 5.3

Izzy was true to his word about sticking to Ed like glue. He didn’t get a moment’s peace from breakfast (a disappointing plate of toast and a too-bitter coffee) right up until it was time to get changed for the show. Thank fuck Izzy hadn’t insisted on sharing a dressing room, but that was probably because he knew there was no window in Ed’s to climb out of.

Ed was left alone to get changed into the Blackbeard garb. The one-armed jacket was old and worn, but the leather was soft as butter and moulded to him now, starting out with a fresh set would be uncomfortable and take him forever to break in. He had a couple of sets of his stage outfit and they had taken long enough to break in as it was. He didn’t feel like starting over with a new set at his age. 

It was bad enough that the heat from the stage lights had him drenched in sweat every show and peeling himself out of the comfortable ensemble afterwards. He would not be doing the same thing with leather that was stiff and unyielding.

A knock sounded at the door.

“Fuck OFF, Izzy! I’m nearly ready, I just need to get my boots on.”

“It’s Anne.”

“Oh. Door’s unlocked.”

Anne swept in and shut the door behind her. She was working tonight, dressed in comfortable jeans and a t-shirt and he could see her phone clipped onto her belt. She took a seat on the couch, moving Ed’s nap blanket out of the way. He took it on every tour, but now it paled in comparison to the yellow knitted blanket at Stede’s house. Ed wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to sleep comfortably under it again when he knew that existed. “Just wanted to do a quick run-through of tonight’s plans.”

“Another run through? You’re as bad as Izzy.” Ed sat down at the vanity table and pulled on one of his boots. Stupid fucking buckles took forever to do up.

“Never compare me to Izzy Hands.” She pointed to the candy bowl Ed had set up on the vanity and he rolled his eyes and tossed her a handful of the lemon candies that were her favourite. She unwrapped one and popped it into her mouth, speaking around it. “I meant our plans for our backstage guests.”

“Oh.” Ed shrugged, feigning nonchalance as he focused his attention back on his boot. “The uzhe. Let them hang out with the band, then get security to escort them to just in front of the stage barriers to watch the show. Show finishes, they come backstage again for the after-party.”

“Got it all figured out, huh?” Anne drummed her fingers on the arm of the couch. “What about Stede? Any special treatment for him?”

“Well, he’ll have to watch the whole show from the wings. I don’t want to risk him fainting in the crowd again, plus we really don’t want anyone who attended the gig last week to recognise him.” Ed finished buckling one boot and moved on the other, hoping Anne hadn’t spotted his flushed cheeks. “Wouldn’t call that special treatment, just looking out for his safety.”

“Mhm, sure.” Anne’s teeth cracked down on the hard candy in her mouth with that horrible crunching sound that Ed hated and she knew Ed hated. “Gotta keep your boyfriend safe.”

“He isn’t–”

“Oh, don’t try to lie to me, Edward Teach. Just because the two of you haven’t had the proper discussion about it doesn’t mean it isn’t happening. It’s written all over your faces.” She pointed an accusing finger at him with a self-satisfied grin. “You like him, don’t you?”

“He’s my friend, of course I like–”

“No, not as a friend. You like like him.”

“Like like? How old are you, you absolute child?”

“Ed and Stede sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G.”

“Oh, fuck off.” He pretended to have trouble fastening the buckle on his other boot so she couldn’t see the little smile on his face when she brought up kissing Stede. He hoped it would be a repeat event. He was more than happy to be Stede’s kissing practice. “We’re just friends.”

“Whatever.” She stood up and headed for the door. “By the way, your ‘friend’ has been waiting in the green room for the last ten minutes.”

Ed ignored her laughter as he pushed past her and charged out of his dressing room. Why had no one told him that Stede was here? Even though the green room was just at the end of the hall, it felt like it got further and further away with every step until he swung the door open at last.

And a mob was upon him.

“Huge fan, sir! Huge!” A man with dark curls and a somewhat chaotic smile had grabbed one of his leather-gloved hands and was shaking it enthusiastically.

Ed smiled and did his best to politely withdraw. “Well, that’s lovely, but you don’t need to say sir, alright? It’s just Blackbeard.”

“Yes, sir! Blackbeard sir!”

The man reached for his hand again and Ed carefully sidestepped him to come face to face with a blonde man with a crooked smile who also shook his hand. Seeing no other option, Ed made his way around the room shaking hands and giving introductions and yet he still hadn’t spotted Stede. He did recognise Lucius, however, and deduced that this group left waiting for him in the green room were Stede’s friends even if Stede was nowhere in sight.

He was going to kill Anne.

Irritated as he was that he had been tricked, Ed had to admit that he did actually like Stede’s friends once they’d calmed down and were able to talk to him like another human being and not some golden idol. He still saw the awe in the eyes of some, but they mostly settled down, although Lucius did keep getting a little close for comfort. Fortunately every time he did, he was pulled back by a bald man that Ed presumed was his boyfriend. Patrick or something he’d said his name was.

The conversation was pleasant, but nothing he wasn’t used to, with the usual gushing over his work that came with the territory. Even when the rest of the band came in, most of the attention was still on Ed, although Lucius had taken it upon himself to flirt with both Izzy and Fang, only one of whom was receptive to the advances.

Anne eventually popped her head around the door. “So sorry to interrupt, can I borrow Blackbeard for five minutes?”

“Make sure it is only five minutes.” Izzy snapped even as Ed ran for the door as quickly as was polite. “We’ve got a show starting soon.”

As soon as he was out of the green room, Ed stared daggers at his friend. “That wasn’t funny.”

“Oh, I think it was very funny.” She was already walking back down the hallway, still chuckling to herself as Ed debated if they could get another medic at short notice if this one disappeared. “And it proved my point that you’re into Stede.”

There was no point in denying it, not if Anne would keep coming up with ways to torture him until he admitted it. “Ok, fine, I’m into Stede.”

She stopped dead in the middle of the hallway and Ed smacked into her. He was about to chastise Anne for fucking around again, but noticed she was looking up at him with her mouth open. “Fuck’s sake, what now?”

“I knew it, I just didn’t think you’d admit it.” She shook her head, as if she needed a second to dispel the fog over her brain before she could carry on. “Wow. I’ve never known you to actually like someone before. Usually you just become an insufferable horny git, then you fuck them and get it out of your system. Then again, you haven’t fucked Stede yet so maybe you’ll get bored of him once you have.”

And even though she was one of his closest friends, Ed honestly felt like throttling Anne at that moment. “How fucking dare you. You think that he’s just the latest in a long line of interchangeable bedfellows? Someone for me to use, then get bored and discard? He’s not some desperate groupie, Anne, he actually likes me. The real me, not Blackbeard. He actually wants to spend time with me and make me breakfast and watch tv together and–”

He noticed the change in Anne’s expression and immediately groaned at the realisation that she’d fucking tricked him again. “I hate you so much.”

She shrugged. “Nah, you love me. Now come on, there’s a present in your dressing room.”

“I don’t trust anything you say now.” But he followed her anyway, watched with narrowed eyes as she gestured for him to step through the door. For all he knew, she’d booby-trapped his dressing room to drop custard on him when he stepped over the threshold. He did it tentatively, peering around for his so-called present, but found the dressing room the same as how he’d left it. “I don’t get it, there’s nothing here.”

But when he turned around, the door was closed and Anne was gone.

He sighed and went to grab a handful of sweets from the candy bowl, only to jump out of his skin when a familiar face appeared around the changing divider. “Hello stranger.”

“Stede!” Fuck, could he have sounded more like an excited kid? He could only see Stede’s face peering around the divider, but it was enough to make him giddy.

“Apologies for the theatrics. Anne’s idea, but we got a bit carried away.”

“Why are you behind the divider?”

“I made the mistake of telling her that I’d kept my outfit a secret from you and she insisted I do a whole reveal.” His cheeks were a little pink, but otherwise he looked happy about it. “I thought it sounded like fun, but I do think I might be overexaggerating it. It really isn’t that special.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.” Ed took a few steps back to allow Stede the space he needed to emerge with any kind of dramatic flourish that he pleased. “You’ve teased for long enough, let me see it.”

Stede stepped out from behind the divider and suddenly Ed had a better understanding of the man than he’d had in the entirety of the short period they’d known one another.

One look at Stede and he felt like he was going to faint.

He was wearing leather. In typical Stede fashion, it looked like expensive designer leather that he was wearing for the first time but fuck it was working for him. Ed had said in his kitchen that he’d thought Stede would suit it and he was right. The shiny black leather jacket would have been enough, but no, of course Stede was trying to give him a heart attack and wearing leather pants as well. 

Very tightly fitted leather pants that followed every contour of his shapely legs like they were painted on. Stede did a little twirl with his arms outstretched and Ed was graced with both the front and back view. “What do you think? Surprised?”

His mouth suddenly felt very dry and he understood why Anne had closed the door. It really was taking all of his control not to leap on Stede and test if his leather could hold against Ed’s teeth.

“I know I can’t hold a candle to you when it comes to wearing leather, but you mentioned wanting to see me in it and I figured there was no better time than one of your concerts when half your fans are dressed like this anyway.”

This was unfair. This was downright cruel. How dare he wear something as incredibly hot as that and then have the audacity to make it adorable by showing he had remembered what Ed had said to him. Not only remembered it, but acted upon it.

“Ed?”

Fuck, he was staring without saying anything. “Looks good, mate. I was right, it does suit you.”

His cheeks turned that sweet shade of pink again. “You wore the amethyst suit for me, thought it only fitting I return the favour.”

Please stop being so sweet, I have a show to do and it’s going to be impossible .

Fuck the show. He could just cancel it again and spend all night here with Stede.

Could have done, if he’d had the sense to lock the door, but instead Izzy came barrelling through without knocking, as was his trademark. “Can you hurry the fuck up, we’re on stage in ten.” He paused to look Stede up and down. “Isn’t that the fainting guy?”

“I prefer Stede.”

He’d made the quip before Ed could, but Izzy kept the distasteful look upon his face. Izzy never liked it when people had a backbone around him, he preferred it when they either quaked in fear or were a nervous wreck. “You’d better not collapse again because we’re not stopping the show for you this time.”

“I’ll be watching from the wings, I’m told. Safer that way. Anne said she’ll stay with me just in case.”

Izzy gave a grunt that suggested he didn’t care what Stede did as long as he was out of the way, then turned his attention back to Ed. “Come on then.”

“Just going to escort Stede to where he’s watching the show from and I’ll be right with you.”

Izzy’s mouth twisted into a snarl, but he didn’t argue. “Just be with the rest of us and ready to go on in the next five minutes. You take any longer and I will come and find you to drag you onstage myself.” 

Izzy slammed the door closed behind him in a somewhat pointless effect and Stede whistled. “Nasty little thing, isn’t he?”

“Yeah, but he’s got a point. Much as I’d like to stay, I have to be onstage soon.” He opened the door again and waved for Stede to follow him. 

Their walk was silent save for the squeaking of Stede’s leather that hadn’t been worn in yet. Ed didn’t want to laugh but Stede was the first to go, letting out a snort at the ridiculous sounds his clothes were making just walking up the hallway. “I didn’t think this through.”

“No one ever does. It won’t be so bad once you’ve worn it in a bit, got it contoured to your shape.” How that leather was going to mould itself any tighter against Stede’s body, Ed had no idea, but he looked forward to seeing it.

Anne was waiting to guide Stede into place in the wings and the two of them were faced with the prospect of parting ways for now. “Well then,” Stede said. “Best of luck.”

“People usually say break a leg.”

Stede’s nose wrinkled adorably in distaste. “Why would I say that, I don’t want you to get hurt.”

Ed tried not to read too much into it. “Just tradition, I dunno.”

“Do you want me to say it?”

“You can say whatever you like.”

“In that case,” Stede suddenly pulled him into a hug, the leather of their jackets squeaking against each other as Ed found himself gripped tightly. He hadn’t been nervous before a show in years, and yet the gesture was comforting. Maybe that was just Stede, able to soothe nerves that didn’t exist. “You’re going to befantastic .”

And that made him feel something. 

Stede pulled away too soon, giving him a little wave and not noticing Anne’s smirk in Ed’s direction as he left to get into position with the rest of his band.

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#edactuallysmau

[erodasfishtacos]

HSLOT SAINT LOUIS

warnings: smut, 18+

-

Harry was doing his same script, he’s been starting every show but addressing the circular stage.

“Sometimes you’ll get m’face and sometimes you’ll get m’ass. Please, let me know if y’have a preference,” He gives the crowd a cocky grin, it widens when the audience goes insane with whistles and screams.

YN is standing off to the side, where she always stands with Harry’s friends and family who come and go - visiting them.

Harry’s eyes dart to his wife, when he sees her rolls her eyes at him, he points at her, speaking right into the microphone, “And you’ll be gettin’ the ass baby!”

The arena is near deafening with the fans who are fawning and cooing at the couples interactions, they all look back to YN.

She blows him a kiss and he dramatically snatches, smacking it right on his backside with a cheeky wink and purse of his lips.

He goes on with the show in his stunning red outfit that fit for Saint Louis perfectly - YN was matching him in a dark satin orange slinky dress that was undeniably sexy. It had Harry feeling her up backstage before he went on. ***

The fans loved that the couple matched at every concert.

YN loved watching her husband perform and after that comment about her getting his ass…well, it gave her some ideas for later.

The way the shirt he was wearing wasn’t buttoned enough so she could see the glisten on his chest, how the trousers hugged his perky backside like a sin.

It may be wrong, but everybody in this arena wanted him.

They want to hug him, kiss him, blow him, fuck him - but the only one who got that was her and she basked in it.

As Harry finishes with Kiwi, losing his absolute shit, YN and everyone else starts to head backstage. YN waves to a few fans and stops for a selfie or two before disappearing.

When Harry runs back to join, after dashing from center stage, he automatically finds his wife and wraps her up into a tight hug.

“Ew, bun. You’re extra sweaty, you definitely need to go shower,” YN crinkles her nose, pushing him off as he does stink a bit and is just sticky from sweat.

Usually, Harry would coerce his wife into joining him but they had quite a few friends who came to see the concert and YN was expected to entertain them.

“I’ll be thinkin’ about you, flower,” He teases, nipping her ear before chatting with their friends for a moment before he’s trailing off to shower and change.

-

YN waits a few minutes, enough time to guarantee he was already in the shower - soaping up.

She punches in the code to his locked dressing room, a soft smirk on her face as she steps over where he’s strewn the orange ensemble to purposefully piss off Harry Lambert - like always.

When she opens the bathroom door, she makes sure to be as quiet as possible - same as when she shuts and locks it behind her.

It a modern, standard shower stall and Harry is standing facing away from his wife - scrubbing his hair roughly to get the styling gel and grime out.

Harry’s shoulders are so broad.

His back is just…beautiful.

It’s so muscular, defined, and strong as he flexes his arms forward. Then her eyes trail down to his backside.

His bum was small, she loved to tease him and pinch it but it was muscular as well from those squats and wall sits he does in the gym.

After she quickly undresses, she steps in behind him into shower - pressing her chest up against his wet back and wrapping her arms around his waist.

Harry startles, nearly jumping out of his own skin before huffing out a laugh and leaning back into his wife, relaxing - well more like melting as he puts his weight on her.

“Thought y’were some crazy fan,” He jokes, hand coming down to cup the hers on his waist but frowning when she pulls back.

“Against the wall,” YN murmurs firmly, pushing him gently until his chest is against the tile and the shower head is pounding on his back and shoulders.

Harry shuffles forward, willingly albeit confused about what was going on and his wife’s demeanor as the cold of the wall hardens his nipples.

“Baby? Y’alright-“

“Did you wash yourself up already?” YN asks directly, hands rubbing softly at his sides, squeezing where his mini love handles are.

“M’body? Yeah, why-“

She cuts him off again, lips on his shoulder blade, “You told the crowd and me that I was getting your ass. I’m just holding you to your word.”

And when Harry realizes what’s about to go down, he lets out a low, explicit moan that echos throughout the bathroom.

“Yeah, baby, yeah,” He babbles excitedly, it wasn’t like this was something rare for them. They normally incorporated ass play into their sex life.

It was something about catching him off guard, when he’s vulnerable, and the post-show adrenaline has already worn off - making him malleable and pliant for his wife.

“You want to be all cocky, arrogant on stage, right? But look at you now, whining for your wife to touch you,” YN teases sharply, hand drifting down to squeeze his cheek hard enough to make him squeak.

“Baby. I’m yours, I’m yours,” He gasps, voice turning into a raspy yet high begging tone.

It was a tone of his voice that nobody in that crowd had or would ever hear. No, it was saved for her when she had him like this, like nobody else ever will.

“You don’t think I know that, Harry?” His wife laughs, fingers moving to sneak between his cheeks, pressing tightly against where he’s aching for her.

She continues, “God, I think everyone knows your mine. You can’t keep your eyes off me during the concert, parade around your wedding band, make sure my tattoo is always visible.”

“It’s ‘cause you- oh fuck, s’cause y’my soulmate,” Harry moans, pushing back on her fingers - wanting more but she wasn’t willing, “Need more, darlin’, m’close.”

She really wasn’t even doing much beside pressing at him, pushing in just the tiniest amount but he was grinding his hips against the wall a bit and her tits felt so good on his back.

Sometimes when he came off stage, he had absolutely no stamina.

Normally he could last but when he was adrenaline high and had basically edge himself in front of tens of thousands of people, it wasn’t going to be a long event.

“That’s really sad, H. Reminding me of when we were teenagers and you couldn’t last,” YN ends her rude statement with a bite to his shoulder before dragging her teeth down a bit.

It was just fun to get Harry worked up, he still acted the same from when they were younger - he’d get bratty and demanding, whiney, his chest and neck bloom into a soft pink color, and his eyes are a bit wet.

“Still just as much of a fool f’you, tha’s why,” Harry puffs out, hands continuously clenching and releasing over and over against the wall - like he wants to just make Harry wife touch him, tortured by her teasing.

“Fine, fine,” YN simpers, as if he was being a pain but she slips down onto her knees - hands dragging down his back and then his lean, solid thighs.

But in typical Harry behavior, he turns back and looks over his shoulder, “Sunflower, y’knees? We can move out of the shower.”

“Shush up,” She accentuates her words with a heavy handed smack to his right cheek and she chuckles when he gasps out a quiet, “Fuck.”

YN cups his cheeks, spreading them and leaning forward.

As soon as her tongue hits where he’s hot and tight, his legs twitch, and he puts his hands on the wall to brace himself.

“Darling, baby, baby,” Harry mewls, pushing back for more and hissing when she licks into him - his ring-bare hand leaning back to thread into her hair.

YN was planning to draw this out but she only gets a few directed laps before he’s moaning obsencenly, loud enough to hear through the god damn arena.

And then he’s gripping his cock, giving one firm tug, and he’s coming with pants and unfiltered, inconsiderate shouts of pleasure.

“S’good, m’good wife. S’no one better than you. Y’the only one who makes me feel like this. Crave y’like a drug, flower,” He praises endlessly, he turns around and helps her up - kissing her harshly.

When his hand comes to sneak between her thighs, she shakes her head and murmurs, “We don’t have time, H. Everyone is waiting on us.”

He pouts with his swollen pink lips, “I’ll take care of y’are the hotel, promise.”

“Mm,” She agrees, scrubbing the leftover shampoo bubbles from his hair as he tucks his face into her neck and tries make himself smaller.

Harry always gets a little sheepish after she does anything that makes him feel vulnerable, needs reassurance from her.

“Only with you, m’yours. Y’own my heart, ‘ave since we were fifteen,” Harry murmurs into her neck.

-

When they get themselves together, dressed, and exit the bathroom into the dressing room.

Harry Lambert is irritated as he is picking Harry’s clothing off the floor and putting it back on the hanger.

The stylist gives them a look, a knowing look, as he hangs the trousers on the rack.

“Fuck off,” The singer huffs, tugging his wife by the hand out of the room and to the car waiting for them.

#harry styles #hslot #harry styles love on tour #hslot!harry #hslotrry #hslot Harry #harry styles writing #harry styles masterlist #harry styles fic rec #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles fluff #harry styles x y/n #erodsafishtacos masterlist #harrystylesfanfic #harry styles smut #husband!harry #harry styles husband #Instagram

[weepingvoidpenguin]

One of Your Favorites

Jealous Bucky x Reader

Summary: You have an objective. Get Rumlow to confess. Simple enough, right? No. Aside from his usual condescending attitude towards you, Bucky has made it extremely apparent that he doesn’t think you’re capable of - well, anything, but especially not handling Rumlow. And yet, he is the biggest challenge of this entire ordeal.

Warning: T R I G G E R WARNING!! ATTEMPTED SA, DRUGS, language, light smut. PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE DO NOT READ IF SA WILL TRIGGER YOU. 

Word Count: 8.3k

   “We have good intel stating he’s working as a double agent for HYDRA. Selling information, exploiting tactics, even going so far as to tell them where we’ll be and when.” Natasha scanned the room, making sure she had everyone’s attention during the briefing. 

   You slouched back in your swivel chair and twisted to-and-fro slightly with your hands gripping the arm rests on either side. It took all of your willpower to act engrossed in her words. And you meant every single drop. You’d been paying attention, sure, but the only issue was the dominating presence two seats to your right and directly in your line of sight to Natasha. You rolled your chair to the left to clear the path for the third time, only for him to block your way without missing a beat. The growl that left your mouth was nearly involuntary. Nearly.

   How long would this man act like a child? Despite his graceful and seemingly unsuspecting movements, you were fully aware his placement was intentional. This was not the first, nor did you doubt that it would be the last, time that Bucky acted impudently toward you. Frankly, you’d grown bored of his behavior. It was the same thing everyday. He would act a nuisance during the briefings, speak over you whenever he had the chance, steal the limelight from you and invalidate any concerns or thoughts you shared. The whole charade grew tiring and he had been dancing on thin ice for months now.

   You averted your gaze from burning holes through the freshly washed, brown locks and switched your attention back up to the redhead. Thankfully, too, because you managed to catch the end of her sentence just as she locked eyes with you.

   “And that’s why Y/N is going to be the one to extract the information from him,” she finished.

   You blinked, “Wait, what?” 

   Bucky straightened his posture and threw a quick glance your way, “Yeah, what? She’s got no heat, couldn’t toast marshmallows if we gave her all day. She shouldn’t lead this, she wouldn’t know how,”

   “Well, tonight might be a good time to start learning, then,” Steve chimed in, throwing a wink your way. You smiled and appreciated his aid, not because you needed it but because at this point, you were seething and if you opened your mouth to defend yourself this meeting would go south, quickly. Luckily, Steve always believed you were capable of a great deal of things and knew you strove for more experience so any opportunity to lead or expand was one he thought you should take. 

   “Besides,” Tony spoke up, twirling a platinum pen between his fingers from across the table, “our little double-agent has always had the hots for Y/N so unless you’re gonna be the one to bat your eyelashes at him and get him alone in a room, Mr. Barnes, we have to use his own flaws against him.” He turned to face you and held up a hand, “Not to say that liking you is a flaw, you’re great Hot-Stuff but exploiting him is our best option indefinitely,”

   “Do I have to seduce him?” You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest and raising a brow towards Nat, trying your damned hardest to avoid the unmistakable glare the brown-haired super soldier was sending your way. 

   “The only thing you have to do is extract any information on him that you can. Get him a little drunk, catch him in a slip-up or two, take note of any inconsistent stories and be on your merry way,” she reassured, “How you manage to do that is up to you,”

   “Ooh, extortion,” Clint chirped up from the far back corner, his hands rubbing together maliciously around an arrow he pulled from his sheathe, something you noticed he did a lot when he was uninterested; be it a person, mission, or conversation.

   “No. Not extortion,” Steve shut it down and you chuckled at how Clint’s countenance fell into one of disappointment. 

   “Not yet anyway,” Natasha mumbled and you sighed as she walked around the room and handed each of you a folder with your individual objectives inside.

   “But he’s such a pervert,” you grumbled.

   “All the easier,” 

~

   The rest of the day was drudged with Nat while she taught the pertinence of body language (both yours and theirs), verbal ruses, and overall ensnarement. You bat your eyelashes until you were certain you would catch enough wind to fly away, smirked enough that your cheeks began to ache and raised your eyebrows ‘til you felt the impending wrinkles on your forehead. By the end of the drill you weren’t sure you were even going to make it to the company party from the migraine creeping its way on.

   “How’s the bait coming along?” His voice alone caused you to roll your eyes but you paid no mind while you rubbed at your temples and stood up alongside Natasha.

   “She’s not gonna be able to lie to me any time soon but she can flirt her way to whatever she wants,”

   “Benefits of targeting a narcissistic misogynist, they don’t think anyone can fool them.” Tony belted as he sauntered into the room with strawberries, offering them out to you while he munched on one.

   “She’ll still mess it up,” Bucky countered, “Make someone else do it,”

   You plucked the fruit off Tony’s tray and examined it, trying to figure out whether you were going to consume it or use it as a weapon.

   “I really appreciate your words of encouragement, James. Unfortunately, they’re not wanted, nor are they needed.” You bit into the fruit and glided towards the door, looking over your shoulder at the super soldier, “So unless you actually have something to contribute, I suggest you stay the hell out of my way while I get the job done,”

   Nat walked out behind you and handed you a tiny, skin-colored device meant to conceal itself and you placed it in your ear. 

   “The conversation is gonna be recorded so we can catch any inconsistencies. We’ll all be able to hear what you’re saying so tread on delicate waters but don’t be afraid to shake mountains if you have to,”

   You nodded and opened your door for her to enter your room knowing she’d want to help you get ready for the event. Natasha, shocking as it turns out, enjoys company while preparing for events. She would much prefer to be surrounded by people than be alone. You never had gall to ask her why that is. Or maybe you respected her too much to ask.

   An hour had passed, maybe two, but you enjoyed the silence between you both. There was no need to fill the empty quiet when it was so comfortable and welcoming. You two spoke without words at times and that was probably your favorite personal skill. Eventually, there came a knock on your door and you opened to find Wanda with her flat iron and make-up bag in tow. It’d long since been decided that your room was the gathering center.

   Wanda helped you finish touching up your outfit and you waited on your bed while they finished getting ready. Nat occasionally quizzed you on certain situations and how you should act depending on the tones and moods of the conversation. You tried to explain that you didn’t have difficulty reading a room but Nat tested you all the same. 

   “And if he puts his hand on your thigh?” She called out from your bathroom.

   “Then he loses it,” you practically sang in response.

   You were met with a flying hairbrush and laughed at the onslaught.

   “You’re not the only one with that mentality,” Wanda called out as well, her iron glossing over thin strands of hair.

   “Nat knows I can handle myself.” You sat up on the bed and went over to your closet to collect your favorite pair of shoes to go along with the formal attire Nat selected for tonight. “What a coincidence that we happen to have a company party the same night we have to extract information,” you hollered over your shoulder, moving aside terribly worn shoes while you scoured for the pair you had in mind.

   “This objective has been in the works for weeks now,” Nat released the tendril of hair from around the barrel and pinned it to her head so it could cool.

   “Wow, thanks for the heads up, then.” You gripped the desired pair and placed them beside your nightstand for later.

   “The plan wasn’t solid until we knew for a fact that Rumlow was coming. It’s a company party so it’s not mandatory but once he heard you were making an appearance, it didn’t take very much persuading,”

   You rolled your eyes and plopped back down on your mattress, “He’s so annoying, I doubt I can hold much of a conversation with him,”

   “Take a shot or two to ease your nerves, if he sees you drinking it’ll put him at ease too. He’ll be more inclined to drink,” Natasha recommended. “But don’t act too out of character. If you were always curt and short with him and suddenly you start acting over-friendly, he may get suspicious. He’s an idiot but he’s a paranoid one,”

   You nodded, taking a mental note to have a half-empty bottle in your grasp when Rumlow arrives. If he thinks you’ve already been drinking, he might also consider catching up. 

   “Y/N? Not uptight for once?” Wanda sarcastically questioned. “I can’t picture it,”

   “Oh, fuck off,” you grumbled and in turn received laughter from the two girls. “Besides, of all of us I’m by far the least uptight. Barnes takes the cake for that one,”

   There was a beat of silence that you didn’t register before you were met with a response.

   “Ya know, he’s not as bad as you paint him out to be.” Nat unpinned the curl from her head and moved on to the next section, “He’s got some serious loyalty and always willing to volunteer first for everything,”

   You lifted your head to stare at her reflection through the mirror, “What are you talking about? He’s annoying and irate and lacks a filter,”

   “Mmm, irate isn’t the word I would use,” Wanda countered, looking over to Natasha.

   Nat shook her head in response, “I’d lean more towards . . . over-protective,” 

  “Much better,” Wanda agreed.

   You squinted your eyes at their image and felt the corners of your lips turn downwards, “Over-protective? Since when are you two defending Barnes?”

   “We’re not defending him, per say.” Wanda glanced over to Nat, “We’re just trying to give you a fresh perspective,” 

   “You could give me a brand new pair of eyes and I’d still see him the same,” you retorted, now leaning on your elbows due to the strain on your neck. 

   They ignored the comment, “And he’s only annoying to you,”

   “You’re telling me he doesn’t annoy you at all?” You asked, an eyebrow raised.

   “More like . . . he doesn’t go out of his way to mess with us.” Nat applied a nude color onto her lips.

   “So you agree that he goes out of his way to irritate me,” you stated rather than asked.

   “That’s been made very apparent,” Wanda responded. “But you have to wonder why,”

   You huffed a little and sprawled back out on the bed just to result in staring at the ceiling above. If you looked hard enough your mind would create pictures from the chaos of the cracks and shapes began to form. Sometimes, when the night lay still and life seemed to dwindle at the edges of your reality, you could swear a familiar face fashioned together and your imagination ran wild with the images you’d see. Some that brought a warmth to your cheeks even now. 

   You shot up out of bed and shook the memories from your vision. Ugh. He haunts you even when he’s not actively tormenting you. How he’s managed to crawl his way so deeply within your skin you had no idea but you fought for control of your thoughts whenever you caught them slipping into that hellhole.

   “Or slipping into euphoria,” Wanda chimed in.

   “Wanda!” You scolded, crossing your arms, “Euphoria my ass,”

   “Yeah, he thinks so too,” she continued and you chucked the abandoned hairbrush back their way. 

   “Stay out of my head,” you jokingly sniped at her but was met with a low chuckle.

   “I didn’t even have to be in your head to know what you were thinking of,” Nat defended and caught your weapon of choice.

   “Are you guys done yet?” You rolled your eyes and stretched yourself out before swiping up the pair of heels you’d chosen and sliding them onto your feet.

   “Why? Are you in a hurry to see a certain someone?” Natasha teased and Wanda let out an eruption of laughter.

   “All right, I’m done.” You made a beeline for the door and threw it open, “Lock up when you’re finished!” You bellowed over your shoulder and made your way to the top floor of the building where all the parties are typically held.

   You didn’t run into anyone on the way up and you used that time to calm yourself, prying inch by inch away from the invasive thoughts that called for you in the darkest hours of the night. But, then again, maybe those tormenting thoughts weren’t that bad? You mean, he certainly IS handsome, very much so actually. And he has the most knee-wobbling smirk you’d ever come to know, not to mention those little tricks he does with his knives always manage to entrance you. God, did he know how to use a knife. 

   On more than one occasion had you caught yourself staring at how his hands encapsulated the hilt of the blade. How they clenched and relaxed, drawing out some of the more prominent veins on one of the extremities; of course, you were even more so enticed by the hand he hid as well. You’d imagined what it felt like to have such strong hands grip onto your thighs and coax you into spreading them open with just a few teasing touches here and there. You couldn’t fathom the front you’d put up would last very long, he was stellar at pulling reactions from you. He’d see you break under his caresses and he’d degrade you like he always did but this time it’d emit a different response from you, one that made you whimper and shake. At that, he’d probably call you a good girl, he definitely seems the type to switch between degradation and praise, and would press his mouth up just where you wanted it the most. You’d try your hardest to be quiet but damn the way that tongue moved against you and the way he’d pull you harder against his face at each sound of pleasure you let slip past your lips. He’d enjoy it, too. Eyes closed as he devours you, he likes to put on a show for you to watch. Give you a memory that’ll slick your thighs later that night if he hadn’t fucked you into a coma by then. He’d make you watch him and if you dared to close your eyes you’d earn a firm, cold smack on your ass. He knows you like when he uses temperature play. He growls a little too, he can’t help his innate behavior. Then, just as the accumulation is coming to its apex he’d pull away abruptly and kiss you straight on your mouth so you can taste yourself and that’d earn him another whimper which would result in another smack that leads to that cold metal trailing its way to your core and just as he pushes the tip of his finger inside-

   You cough and straighten your posture as the elevator door opens. When had you leaned up against the back wall of the elevator? Oh Gods, you could feel the slick at the apex of your thighs and you squeezed them together as inconspicuously as you could in fear that you were producing a . . . scent that would be rather difficult to conceal. But the slick only grew worse when you locked eyes with the person stepping into the elevator.

   Fuck.

   “That’s what you chose to wear?” He asked, a certain venom in his tone that immediately calmed the ache in your heat.

   “And what would you have me wear instead, Barnes?” You quipped back, your body facing forward as he took his place beside you in the cramped space.

   There was a beat of silence. Then another. “Not that,” he responded.

   “Well I’ll make sure to ask you next time since you have such impeccable taste,” you retorted, your eyes yet to abandon the sight of the closing doors.

   You weren’t sure of all the effects of the Super Soldier Serum that had been injected into Bucky and all that it heightened but you prayed to any God that would listen that his hearing wasn’t one of those things. You were too preoccupied with attempting to settle the hot pulse beating between your legs to worry about how loud your discomfort came across.

   “What do you look so nervous about?” Bucky’s gruff voice prodded. “You can’t possibly be nervous about the mission considering how big-headed you are,”

   You took a deep, long breath and held it to soothe you. Had you not been so previously preoccupied, you’d have given him hell for the insult. “I’m not nervous about that,” you sniped and rested back against the cool wall to satiate your burning skin before lifting your gaze to him only to find him already examining you.

   “Of course not, I just said that,” he retorted, bringing a gloved hand to his face to rub along his jaw, “there’s obviously nothing for you to worry about,”

   You scoffed, “And why is that, Barnes?” Cue the dramatic crossing of your arms. 

   “You’re smarter than Rumlow and significantly better trained. Overall, he really doesn’t hold a candle to your ability,” He paused for a second, his whole frame tensing until he remembered to relax, “But that’s not really saying much considering it’s Rumlow,” 

   You hadn’t noticed you raised your eyebrows until you felt your face fall, “Ah, there he is. You had me worried there for a second, Barnes. Thought you might actually try something new and display common decency for once,”

   A corner of his mouth turned up subtly and he shook his head. You trailed your gaze down to his hidden hand and stared long enough to burn a hole through the fabric.

   “If something’s bothering you, Dollface, go ahead and speak up,” 

   You weren’t sure what possessed you to say anything, especially knowing how touchy the subject was for him but the words left your mouth anyway, “I don’t know why you insist on hiding yourself,”

   He lurched his head back, your statement seeming to have a physical affect on the man and you mentally slapped yourself for saying anything.

   “I’m not hiding myself,”

   “But you are,” you interrupted, your thoughts coming out in pools of candor, “you aren’t your hand. You aren’t your past. You are you. Presently. You’re not the Winter Soldier anymore. That’s not even the same hand you had back then. It’s not tainted and neither are you. I say drop the gloves,”

   “And why would I care about what you say?” He growled, his eyebrows furrowed together and his neck tight in potential restraint.

   The elevator dinged and you looked towards the opening doors, “You don’t have to but they don’t look right with your suit either.” You walked through the exit and sauntered over to the others who had already gotten the party started, leaving Bucky dumb-founded behind you. “I need a shot,”

   “Already ready,” Tony quipped up, holding the small glass in the air for everyone to behold before bringing his cheek to yours in mock welcoming, “This’ll up your tolerance for the next hour, try to get all your drinking done within that time-frame,”

   You pulled away with a warm smile after faux kissing his cheek, “Finally!” you displayed and threw the liquid back in one swift motion, your face scrunching together against your will.

   “Yeah, she’s got a kick to her,” he mumbled and handed you a fruity drink to chase it down with. 

   You went around and said hi to everyone as you recognized most of those present. You made small chatter with those lesser known and drank the liquid in your hand significantly quicker than you’d like to. You excused yourself after you finished the drink and walked over to the bar, scanning the room as you were handed another glass. No Rumlow in sight.

   You headed towards the foosball table and gripped the handles after setting the beverage down on the counter beside you. You flinched as a reflection of light caught your eye and at first you thought your glass was the source. Until your eyes fixated on the reflection’s actual origin. To your far right, and up a few steps you found Bucky conversing with Steve, a dull light emitting from his hand. Not a glove in sight.

   “So, where’s your boyfriend?” Sam inquired when he filled the opposing spot.

   You rolled your eyes, “Bucky’s not my boyfriend,”

   “Bucky?” Sam’s tone chirped up teasingly, a knowing look wearing on his face.

   Your grip tightened around the handles and you slowly pulled away to throw the little white ball through the circle, your hands immediately twisting the miniscule players around. Your eyes shot back and forth, your sight never leaving the darting sphere. Sam still managed to win the first point.

   “Ha!” He shouted in triumph, bringing his finger up as if to scold you, “Don’t think you got away with that comment either, Y/N,”

   “What comment?” you questioned and gulped most of your drink before slamming it back down on the table.

   You heard your earpiece come to life with quiet static and you tried to keep your face masked. Rumlow had entered. Not a surprise either, the party was finally starting to pick up now.

   Sam threw the ball in and you turned the players meticulously this time, brute strength hadn’t helped you earlier so maybe you should take it slow. Steve made his way over to the table and threw his drink back, the liquid trickling down the side of his face before he wiped it away. Sam won the second point.

   “I play winner,” Tony chimed, standing beside Steve.

   You made a point to catch up and now you two were tied at three each. 

   “Best out of five?” You proposed, quirking an eyebrow at Sam.

   “If you didn’t want to play anymore you could’ve just said that,” he teased and you smirked at him as Tony made a subtle show of handing you another drink and you finished your second. “Loser takes two shots?”

   “Deal.” You nodded, knowing you didn’t have much of a choice as a small crowd began to form around you two. Rumlow amongst them. 

   Your jaw dropped when Sam shot the ball directly into your goal as soon as he’d let the ball go.

   “What the fuck?” You shouted, “No fair! That doesn’t count!”

   Thor erupted in laughter to your right and you blinked slowly, staring at the gargantuan man. 

   “It most certainly does,” Sam shouted back, his grin practically touching his ears.

   “Sam, take it easy on her,” Bucky muttered from beside him, quickly averting his gaze from yours and his expression loosened, “The brat hates losing,”

   “Brat?” You snarled.

   Bucky took a swig of his beer, watching you the entire time and you reeled back the fire beginning to form in your chest just to bring your drink up to your lips and chug the entire thing down. You handed it over to Tony who left to replace it. 

   “Last point,” Sam stated, “It’s not too late to quit now,”

   You shook your head and blinked away the feign distortion you were supposed to have. “Just play the ball,”

   “Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” he teased and threw the ball in. 

   You wanted to win. Desperately. But you had a character to play tonight and she was supposed to be drunk. So you hit your hand against the corner of the table just as Sam happened to make the winning point. You grumbled and threw him a glare when Tony broke through the crowd.

   “Coming through,” he shouted, handing two small glasses to you while you gripped your knuckles in pain. “Noooo, you’re not getting out of taking these. C’mon, take your punishment,”

   “Yes, Daddy,” you grumbled and cringed at your own words when the realization hit you. Whatever. You were supposed to be drunk, anyway. 

   “Daddy?” Tony quipped and pulled the drinks back towards himself, “Maybe you should be cut off,”

   “What?” You argued, leaning slightly on the table with your hand and snatching the drinks from Tony’s hold, effectively spilling some on yourself. “See?” You lifted up the half empty shot glass, “This barely counts as a shot,”

   “I’ll get her a new one,” Rumlow offered and disappeared before anyone could argue. 

   “She really doesn’t need another-” Bucky tried to interject and take the shots from you but you twisted around and chugged down the one full glass.

   Water.

   You looked up at Tony and his smirk was barely noticeable. But you could tell. Bucky nearly ripped the other drink from you but Tony blocked his path and you exaggerated your next drink as Rumlow broke back into the crowd, shot in tow.

   “Here.” Rumlow’s calloused hand held the drink up above you and you stared at him with a questioning look. “Open,” he ordered and the fire burning in your chest fought to destroy everything in its vicinity. You bit your lip in refrain but tossed your head back and opened your mouth.

   Static broke over your earpiece. Don’t drink that! Wanda’s voice erupted.

   Your eyes widened as the liquid made its way down but you coughed hard to stop whatever you could. 

   Why? Steve’s voice came through right after.

   You choked on the liquid and shut your eyes at the way it burned its way down. You reached your hand out to grab someone’s drink to ease the burning and grasped a tall glass and tossed it back. The burning didn’t ease up and you felt a hand rest on your back.

   “Are you okay?” Rumlow’s voice rang out and your skin nearly recoiled from the contact, “How about we get you some water?”

   You looked up at him when the burning subsided minimally and nodded your head, letting him lead the way to the bar. He parted the crowd and someone took step right behind you to follow when the presence suddenly died out abruptly. You turned around to check who it had been and found no one.

   Why? Steve asked again.

   Where’s Wanda? Bruce broke through.

   You lifted your head and flitted your gaze around the room until you found the familiar Sokovian on the couch, laying down with her eyes closed. You pulled away from Rumlow but his grip on your hand tightened and his steps grew in haste. You whirled your head to yell at him but the way the room swayed with the movement cause you to shut your mouth in surprise. 

   Didn’t Tony say you would have a higher tolerance?

   “Couch...” you muttered, pointing over your shoulder just in case your target was curious enough to ask but the message was delivered.

   Rumlow hoisted you up onto the bar stool and stood on your open side, using his body to keep you from falling over. Or to cage you in.

   “I don’t feel good,” You rested an elbow on the countertop and held your head up.

   “I can’t imagine you would. You’ve been chugging those drinks like they’re water.” Despite that, Rumlow motioned to the bartender and asked for two more.

   You giggled and your head lulled forward with the action. You let Rumlow catch you from tumbling over. Why did your body feel so heavy? Not to mention the way everything around you dazed about. You couldn’t catch a single action, let alone attempt to read Rumlow’s body language. But you did happen to notice the way his eyes searched the room before coming back to you.

   “You okay?” You rested your forearm against his chest and pushed slightly to allow yourself a better view of his face.

   A small smirk, “Am I okay? What about you?”

   You smacked your lips and brought the ice cold glass to your lips. That’s not water. “I’m doing reeaalllyy good,” you drawled.

   Rumlow chuckled and pushed you deeper into the chair, “I can tell.” He took a sip, his attention never faltering from your body, “Just be sure to pace yourself from here on out,”

   You made a show of cocking your head to the side and letting a smile sprawl onto your face as you studied him. 

   “What?” he questioned, a curious lift in his brow.

   You shook your head gently and kept your gaze on him over the brim of your glass, “You’re just . . . not what I was expecting,”

   “And what were you expecting?” 

   Don’t forget to bat your eyelashes. “Worse,”

   “Sorry to disappoint,” he jeered, his attention once again cast throughout the room before centering back on you.

   You followed his action but quickly came to the conclusion that moving any pace faster than a sloth was going to make you nauseous and you could barely keep a thought together. Your stomach began to rise in your chest and the fear seized your throat shut. Why couldn’t you hold onto a thought for longer than a second? It was like you were aware of your lack of consciousness but could do nothing about it because any thought or bout of panic phased through just as soon as it arrived.

   “What are you so tense for, Rumlow? You know you’re not currently on the clock, right?” You teased, your head leaning on your shoulder as you spoke.

   He brought his drink up to his lips and finished it off in three gulps, “I’m not tense. It’s just hard to turn it off sometimes,”

   You nodded slowly and pushed your drink towards him, “Relax. You know everyone here,”

   He shook his head and placed your drink back in front of you before asking for another beer.

   “And two shots!” You shouted to the bartender, throwing two of your fingers high up and instantly regretting how fast you’d done it.

   “Are you trying to get me drunk?” He asked you, a side smirk beginning to form.

   You placed your finger over your lips and hushed, “Shh, I won’t tell if you don’t.” You dragged your lower lip down and his eyes fixated to commit the scene to memory. “Besides, I always feel dumb if I’m the only one drunk,”

   He motioned to the rest of the party, “Believe me, Sugar, you’re not the only one enjoying yourself,”

   “But are you?” 

   “Am I what?” 

   “Enjoying yourself?” 

   Your skin crawled when he placed his rough hand on your barren thigh, “Absolutely,”

   Don’t forget what you’re here for. Don’t let the objective slip. Gods, how the fuck were you supposed to retain anything when you were so sleepy? And why was it so warm?

   “Hot,” you mumbled, fishing around in your glass for an ice cube to rub on your face.

   “Thank you,”

   You threw your head back in laughter and nearly earned yourself an up-close and personal view of the floor had Rumlow not wrapped an arm around your waist and held you steady. Once he was certain you weren’t going to toss yourself onto the ground, he parted your legs and stood between them to keep you rooted to your seat.

   All the movement had you spinning and you white-knuckled Rumlow’s cotton shirt to keep yourself grounded to something, anything. Red warning lights were firing up in your chest and you tensed with the way your body buckled to the panic coursing through you. Your heart pounded in your ears and danced across your skin, lighting it on fire and making the room too stuffy to bear. Please, no. Not now. Focus. Snap out of it. Come back, stay back. Your breathing hitched and you looked down at the sensation crawling its way up higher on your thigh. Too hot. Everything was too hot, if you didn’t get out of this now you would never-

   “Vision!” You cheered, happy to see your friend.

   The presence on your thigh recoiled slightly.

   “I’m taking Wanda to her room, seems she’s had a bit too much to drink,” Vision informed and you’d only just then noticed the body in his hold.

   “Wanda!” You smiled, admiring her peaceful features as she slept in his arms. You poked at her cheek then jerked your gaze back up to Vision. “What? Wanda doesn’t drink,”

   She’s not acting, Sam’s voice erupted in your ear and you flinched at the sound. 

   Vision’s eyes went from you to Rumlow then back to you slowly, “Y/N . . . are you okay?”

   You beamed at him and slowly brought up your thumb. “Good,” you responded.

   You followed Vision’s gaze back up to Rumlow and smiled at the agent beside you. You guess he’s kind of cute. In a strange, unsettling way.

   “She’s had a lot to drink, so we’re just trying to slow down the pace. Aren’t we, Y/N?” Rumlow looked down at you.

   You nodded fervently, “Yup!” 

   Vision hesitated but knew he didn’t pose much of a threat with Wanda in his arms unconscious, so he quirked a smile and walked towards the hall.

   Someone get to Y/N, something’s not right, Vision ordered and you lifted your head up to find him. You could have sworn he just left.

   “Here.” Rumlow handed you a glass, “Drink this, it’ll cool you down,” 

   You stared at the glass in his hold and looked up at him, “You drink it first,” you slurred, holding your finger up at him.

   He cocked his head to the side but took a swig of the drink and you watched it go down his throat. You shrugged and grabbed at it.

   Do not drink that, Nat ordered from somewhere and you looked around in wonder at who she was yelling to.

   Bucky, Sit down! Steve growled.

   Like hell, responded a voice you knew all too well.

   Your smile grew and you looked through the crowd, “Bucky!” You feverishly called, completely expecting to see him before you. Rumlow’s head lifted instantly, his eyes scouring the area.

   “I’ve got this, Pretty Boy,” Tony hastily spoke, “How ya doin’, Hot Stuff?” He interrogated and you reeled at the tone.

   “Quite well, thank you,” you responded tenaciously and attempted to take a swig of the drink in your grasp.

   Tony’s hand shot out and covered the top, slamming the cup back down on the counter and effectively getting the drink all over your dress.

   “What the fuck?” You tried to shout but the words came out heavy and required too much energy to speak.

   “You’ve had enough for tonight,”

   “It’s just water,” Rumlow defended but Tony paid him no mind.

   Your jaw dropped open and you glared at the older man. Who the hell did he think he was? Tony’s stare burned through your skull and despite your irritation, you couldn’t help but wonder why he was so pissed.

   “Are you mad at me?” You drawled, lulling your head to the side.

   “No,” he responded curtly. 

   “Am I being too loud or something?” You pushed. You couldn’t imagine you were any louder than any other drunken bastard at this party.

   “No,”

   Get her out of there or I swear to God I will, his voice hissed into your ear.

   Your eyebrows rose slightly in excitement, “Mmm, Bucky,” you smiled and Tony nodded.

   “’Mmm, Bucky’ is right. Wanna go see him?” Tony offered, sticking out his hand for you to take.

   You fell forward into Rumlow’s chest but shook your head furiously none the less, “For what? So he can tell me I’m horrendous at my-”

   Oh shit. Your job. The job.

   If only your body didn’t feel so heavy and your mind so light.

   You pushed off Rumlow’s chest and glared at Tony, “I can handle myself,” you insisted, a new sort of sober tone making its way through that caused him to do a once-over. “I know what I’m doing,”

   “How many drinks have you had?” Tony challenged and you fell silent.

   Then you felt a tap, and another and a few more.

   “Six,” You said, hoping you’d counted right.

   Tony, don’t you even fucking consider it, Bucky threatened.

   “You could at least change, recuperate and then come back,” Tony offered and you sighed a breath of relief before nodding.

   “Deal,” you agreed, “I’m hot anyway,”

   Tony gave you one last glance before turning around and blending into the crowd on the other end of the room.

   You looked up to Rumlow who’s gaze was still locked on the sea of people, “Don’t you wish you’d taken that shot now?” you tried to jeer, every last word bringing you deeper and deeper.

   “Are they always that intense?” He questioned, not turning his attention to you.

   “They can be over-bearing,” you admitted, hand grabbing the water from earlier and pressing it up against your forehead, “They consider me the baby so they’re always criticizing and suffocating until I just wished they’d disappear.” You took a gulp, “Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate the family and I like that I have a cause but . . . they don’t let me do anything. It’s exhausting,”

   You let out a long breath and smeared the condensation from the glass onto your chest. Rumlow studied you then, not just your body but your reaction. He was watching how you dropped your shoulders at the confession and how you faced your back to them to block them out. 

   You plastered your torso on the countertop and tried to slow your heartrate down. You couldn’t be the only one here unfathomably hot.

   “Why is it so fucking hot?” You questioned, fanning yourself weakly.

   “There are a lot of people around,” Rumlow offered, “how about we go somewhere else? Tony did say you had to change,”

   You peered up at him through half-lidded eyes and meekly groaned in compliance. “Fine,”

   You lifted yourself away from the counter and gently placed your feet on the floor. You’d touched the ground faster than anticipated. Had the ground always been so close?

   “Don’t worry, I gotcha.” Rumlow threw an arm around your waist and helped you trudge towards the elevator.

   Where the hell are you going? Bucky yelled and the sound of shuffling could be heard from his end.

   We can’t let you leave with Rumlow, Y/N. We’re not even sure you’re acting anymore, Sam stated.

   Rumlow pressed the button when you couldn’t muster the strength to do it yourself. The level that your room was on lit up and the doors began closing. You thought you saw Rumlow wave at someone but the mock smile on his face didn’t make it seem like a warm good-bye.

   Your legs had all but given out by the time the elevator reached your shared floor. 

   “Heavy,” you muttered, letting Rumlow carry your weight fully.

   “I know, Sugar. We’re almost there,” he soothed and you conceded to the fatigue wearing you down.

   Your head hung low and your arm dangled uselessly at your side. The familiar sound of your door sliding open caught your attention but you did nothing. You couldn’t. 

   “How . . . know . . . my room?” You questioned, each word causing you to pull from an empty well of energy.

   “I’ve been here before.” Rumlow tossed you onto the bed and sprawled you out.

   “Oh. Ok.” You tried to turn on to your side but strong hands gripped down onto your ankles.

   Rumlow sighed and slipped the heels off your feet, examining the pair like he wanted to wear them. You extended your feet until you felt every muscle in your leg stretch to its capacity and let out a groan of pleasure at the release. Those shoes hurt so bad.

   “You seem . . . intelligent, Y/N.” Rumlow dropped your shoes onto the floor and slithered to the side of your bed, standing beside it with his hands tucked into his pockets.

   A bead of sweat trickled down your forehead, “Hot . . .” you croaked and he nodded.

   “You’re right. It is getting kind of hot.” He brought a hand up to his neck and ripped off the tie hanging around it.

   Get the fuck out of my way, a growl erupted in your ear.

   We’re going with you, Buck, Steve responded before knocking something over.

   “So, what I have a hard time understanding is. . . why you’re here?” 

   You groaned a weak ‘huh’ but even that didn’t sound right.

   “You’re good at what you do, you finish every mission successfully and yet you’re underappreciated.” He took a seat at the foot of your bed and placed one of your legs into his lap, “Why do you allow them to treat you like that? We wouldn’t,”

   The shuffling in your earpiece halted.

   “We?” 

   He began to massage your calf and brought your knee up to his lips, peppering light kisses on it. “We could use someone with your skillset, babe. We’d take real good care of you,”

   The shuffling started again.

   Rumlow had made his way onto your thigh at this point and you let out an involuntary moan when he skimmed over a delicate part on your inner knee.

   “Ya like that?” he questioned but didn’t wait for a response. He brought a hand up to his temple and grabbed the earpiece. You figured he just hadn’t taken it out from his earlier shift but when he pulled it apart, you understood why he always kept it on him.

   “Flash . . . drive earpiece?” Your weak tone tilted a little. “W-why tell . . .”

   “I figured I’d give you the option to leave since you seem so . . . suffocated. If you said yes tonight then I would remind you tomorrow. If you didn’t,” he chuckled, “well, you wouldn’t remember anyway.” His hands trailed to your mid-thigh and you squeaked. “I’m impressed though, I’ve never given anyone else as much as I’ve given you tonight. The drug usually works so quickly on others, but not you. It’s kind of hot, actually,”

   Sick fuck, Natasha growled through a ragged breath.

   The world around you was slow or maybe it was you that was slow? You couldn’t tell, honestly. But when Rumlow moved as if he could predict your actions before you could make them, you wondered whether you were moving at all.

   “Don’t worry, it’ll be over soon,” Rumlow sighed.

   You shook your head, or thought you did but despite the way your body was live-wired, it remained still against all desire. 

   Fight. Move. 

   You managed to push your legs shut but his hand slithered between and spread them open similar to opening a door, but this required much less force.

   “Kill,” You threatened and the sinister smile that crawled its way onto Rumlow’s face was vile enough to sink your heart into your stomach.

   “Kill is fucking right.” Someone snarled and your door was ripped from its hinges.

   Rumlow’s hand jerked away from your body and Bucky seized his open palm, intertwining their fingers and pushing Rumlow’s so far back that they touched the back of his own hand. The cracks were sickening onto themselves but had you not been so weak you would’ve turned from the sight altogether. You really couldn’t fathom how his fingers were still attached at all.

   “Lay another hand on her and you won’t be able to use it again.” Bucky spit.

   Despite Rumlow’s pain, the sinister smile remained sprawled on his face, “You should’ve heard the noises she made,”

   Bucky’s grip tightened and the bones in his palm broke next, “I did,”

   Natasha flew in right behind Barnes but completely dismissed the two and headed straight for you with a needle in hand. Your eyes shifted from the needle to Nat’s face and back again until she stabbed it into your upper arm. Ouch. 

   “Wha-”

   “Shh,” Natasha hastily hushed, “Keep your strength, you should be back to normal soon,”

   Steve came behind Nat and scooped you up to lead you out of the havoc going on in the room. Nat turned her focus to Bucky and reached over to grab the earpiece from Rumlow. Who knows if his nose will ever heal back normally. You held one finger in the air as Steve stepped over the splintered door.

   “Goddamit, Y/N,” Steve huffed, jogging towards the elevator and pressing the floor that led to the infirmary.

   “We won,” you croaked out, a small smile on your face and Steve shook his head.

   “I’m never going to hear the end of this,” 

   Steve looked you up and down for bruises but couldn’t find any and you promised you weren’t lying to him when you told him Rumlow did not get very far in his ‘advances’ at all. You had to swear the mid-thigh was the worst that it came to. 

   Bruce was the one that took a few blood samples and made sure everything was reversing back to normal. Apparently, as soon as Rumlow took you to the bar Tony handed Banner the shot glass that Rumlow gave you and Banner ran analysis on it. The cure was pretty easy to find.

   After being given strict orders to lie down for the next hour or so, it had been decided that Rumlow was to be turned in considering all the evidence required to make the arrest was in the flashdrive and everyone was to gather together for a ‘family night’. Whatever the hell that meant.

   You were in the middle of debating which movie to pick with Steve when the infirmary doors flew open.

   “Where is she?” Bucky nearly shouted upon seeing Bruce.

   “That’s my cue.” Steve stood up just as Bucky rounded the corner, “If you need anything me and Banner will be right over there,”

   You smiled and thanked him then turned your attention to the super-soldier who just arrived at the foot of your bed.

   He didn’t say anything for a while, just looked at you. No, not really. Not at you but through you. A few painstakingly slow seconds went by that way.

   “You owe me a new door,” you joked, a half-smile on your face.

   “Are you okay?” He asked, finally registering your presence.

   You nodded slowly, “I am,”

   Then a few more seconds.

   Bucky turned his gaze down to his hands, both of them barren and on display for the world to see, before shifting his weight between either foot, “Did he- did he touch you?”

   “Not really. Just really liked my legs for some reason,” your attempt at another quip didn’t reach Bucky. He stared back up at you waiting for an answer, an honest one. You sighed, “The damage is more mental,” you admitted, now you were the one not able to look up, “I didn’t like being in this altered state of mind. It’s invasive and . . . scary. He could’ve done things, much worse things but it never got that far or that bad. It was more realizing that I wasn’t completely conscious or present and having that state of mind be taken advantage of, that mostly frightened me. Ya know?”

   “More than anyone,” he answered immediately.

   You looked back up towards him, finally making eye contact, “But I’m fine now, really. Just a little spooked. Steve wants to do a movie night tonight and I would actually prefer that over being alone.” Your eyes fixated on the way his hands clenched and unclenched on the bar by your feet, “If I’m alone then I’ll get stuck in my head about it. Besides, I consider this a hard victory with a few bumps in the road,” 

   He chuckled, lulling his head a bit, “You’re too stubborn for your own good,”

   You shrugged, “Maybe. How’s Rumlow?”

   Bucky hissed and moved over to the side of the bed where he took a seat, “He’s unconscious. And has a hand that he’ll never be able to use again. But other than that, he’s fine,”

   You chuckled and Bucky watched how the laugh met your eyes. He liked that look on you. It was one of his favorites.

   “Why are you looking at me like that?” You questioned once it fell silent between you two again.

   “You called me Bucky earlier,” he remembered.

   You scoffed, “I call you Bucky all the time,”

   “Not to my face,”

   “Not to your face,” you agreed, a teasing smile dancing on your lips and Bucky had one that mirrored yours. 

   “It was nice. Hearing it, I mean,” he admitted and a wave of warmth made its way to your face.

   “I see your hands are exposed,”

   He looked down as though he weren’t aware that he’d taken off his own gloves, “These bad boys? A friend of mine reminded me that I’m not my past. I’m my present. Why hide my growth?”

   You twiddled your thumbs together, “She sounds smart,”

   Now he scoffed, “Oh, it wasn’t a girl, it was some old buddy of mine.” He quirked up a brow, “Unless the person being a girl would make you jealous because in that case it was most definitely a girl,”

   You fought against the natural tug at the corners of your mouth, “Is she at least pretty?”

   “Stunning,” 

   “Smart?”

   “Genius,”

   “Good at her job?”

   “Amongst the best,”

   “Then consider me jealous, Barnes,”

   Bucky chuckled and you watched how the laugh met his eyes. You liked that look on him. It was one of your favorites.

#bucky x reader #james buchanan barnes #James Buchanan Bucky Barnes #bucky #Bucky Barnes #bucky barns x reader #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #bucky x #the winter soldier #the winter soldier x you #x reader #reader insert #bucky barnes x imagines #bucky barnes x you #jealous #possessive #enemies to lovers #Avengers #avengers x reader #avengers x you #avengers x y/n #thor x reader #thor x you #natasha romanoff #natasha x reader #wanda maximoff #wanda #wanda x vision #maximoff

[samplingmoonsters]

What if Techno is like a walking heater cause he's from the Nether and Dream who's naturally cold??

Snow crunches under their feet, warm clouds of fog escaping frozen lips, evaporating quickly in the icy air like ghosts. Endless whiteness surrounds the pair, an empty canvas yearning for a splash of color. But there are no colors for miles, nothing but an abyss of white, except for the red cloak fluttering in the wind like the wings of a newborn bird. Not for the first time, olive green eyes find themself staring at the only interesting color since they started their never-ending journey through the north.

He stares at the broad back of the warrior, well aware of the muscles hidden behind the thick fabric. A hog-like snort escapes his companion as the tall warrior lets out a hot gust of wind. Dream’s tired, freezing body jerks at the loud noise. They haven’t spoken to each other for hours, only Dream’s exhausted breath and the snow crunching under their feet filling the silence around them.

Olive-green eyes widen and he stumbles back, almost falling into the snow, as Techno rams the end of his ax into the snow next to him. They stop in their tracks, finally giving the ex-prisoner’s body a precious second to rest after hours and hours of non-stop walking. Dream’s chest rises and falls in a mix of exhaustion and fear as he stares at Techno’s back. Even after spending weeks in a tiny cell together, building a relationship that doesn’t fit into any category but runs far deeper than simple friendship, Dream’s still gets nervous when he’s confronted with the view of a sharp object. A spike of anxiety settles into his chest, his fear rising the longer he has to look at the damn netherite ax sticking out of the snow.

He trusts Techno more than anyone else on the SMP but it is still hard to let go of old fears even after months of recovering in the Piglin's small cottage. Swallowing, Dream forces his body to relax and instead moves his eyes towards Techno’s face. Anything to distract himself from the weapon still glinting in the corner of his vision like a poisonous snake ready to strike.

At one point, Technoblade has turned towards him, ember eyes staring at the lanky blond, “We should search for a place to rest for tonight.” Techno murmurs before picking his ax back up, swinging it over his shoulder before walking straight towards the line of woods surrounding the snow-covered trail.

“Ah- wait for me!” Dream calls after the other man, small feet stamping through the snow like a newborn fawn who is just learning how to walk from their mother.

Away from the trail, the snow is even higher, reaching Dream’s knees and causing the blond to get stuck on multiple occasions. He has a hard time keeping up with the pink-haired man who doesn’t seem to have any problems navigating through the snowy landscape, his thick leather boots keeping him from sinking into the snow unlike Dream’s pathetic excuse of footwear which can’t even keep his feet decently warm. He can already feel his toes starting to freeze off. If this goes on he won’t have any feet to complain about coming tomorrow morning.

If it weren't for Techno's strong hands pulling him out every now and then Dream would be forever stuck in the middle of the woods.

"Be careful where you are stepping." Techno grunts after pulling Dream out of the snow for what must be the tenth time.

Dream grumbles a curse under his breath, patting the snow from the pants before throwing a dark glare at his companion, "I do! It's not my fault the snow is, like-- ten feet high!" He stomps his feet into the snow, his childish tantrum only resulting in him soaking his pants even more.

Dream could practically hear the other roll his eyes, "Don't be dramatic...it's not that deep." As if to prove his point Techno stomps one foot into the snow. The appendage barely sinks into the snow. But all too soon Techno’s attention is stolen away once more by the distant howls of wolves. The warrior grips his ax tightly, red eyes jumping around the trees, searching for any potential danger while he waits for Dream to stop sulking around so they could start moving forward again.

Dream lets out a huff, seemingly indifferent about the continuing howls. He knows that Techno will keep him safe, so he doesn’t even bother taking out the dagger hidden inside his dark-green coat. It’s not like he would be any good in a fight. Ever since they escaped the prison, Dream quickly realized that his hands would never be able to truly hold weapons of any kind anymore, not with how much they trembled and shook. He’s happy that he could hold a cup of tea without spilling hot liquid everywhere, and hey, he can even hold a spoon without too much of a hitch.

Small progress as Techno would say.

And maybe, with a lot of training and patience, he would even be able to hold an ax again one day.

Though, that dream is rather blurry for now. Let’s rather focus on re-learning how to use a knife and fork for the moment....or Techno would have to help him cut his steak forever and that’s just fucking embarrassing. He already feels like a helpless child 75% of the time when it comes to holding anything.

Which also includes not being able to walk on snow like his companion.

Fucking piglin hybrids and their natural ability to walk over loose ground.

"...that doesn't prove anything. You-you're used to walking through snow." Crossing his arms, Dream glares at a random patch of snow near Techno's left foot. Now that they have stopped moving, Dream can feel the unbearable coldness sinking into his already half-frozen skin. Dream hates to admit it, but he does have a low tolerance when it comes to low temperatures. All his life, he has lived in hotter regions, places where the sun never stops shining all year round, and where hurricanes and heavy storms are a monthly concurrence. But now, he's forced to live in a snowy biome, far away from the sun, where it never stops snowing and the nights are long.

Dream couldn't remember when he last felt truly warm. Even in the safety of Techno's beloved cottage, there's still something cold lingering in his chest, freezing his body from the inside...

Maybe that's just his trauma showing his ugly head... Nevertheless, Dream really missed lying among the flowers, grass tickling his cheeks while he let the sun heat up his body.

And while the prison had been warm, unbearable so, the warmth wasn't the same as the feeling of sun rays on his freckled skin.

Ender, when was the last time he had worn a crop top? Felt like a billion years ago. He couldn't even wear cute outfits in this shitty weather. Fucking Antarctica...

Yearning for an outlet for his building frustration, Dream angrily kicks a small pile of snow, accidentally spraying Techno's face with the powdery substance.

For a second the woods go deathly silent as if the trees themselves could feel the tension rising between the rivals. The two men stare at each other, a silent battle taking place. Techno's narrowed red eyes promise unbearable pain, causing Dream to fidget nervously.

If there is one thing Dream hates more than raw potatoes it's complete silence. He remembers a time when silence didn't bother him. A time when he could linger in his base far underground unbothered by the pure quietness surrounding him, even enjoying it. He was used to being alone, doing his own thing, a lone wolf some would call him, but after the whole prison thing...Dream began to hate the sound of his own voice, the silence that would linger after he screamed his lungs out either from hours of torture or talking nonstop to his own reflection in the lava.

Yeah, he would much rather listen to Techno's monotone voice for hours, all day long, if it means he wouldn't have to listen to his own scrambled thoughts.

"Uh...Tech--"

Before Dream could finish his sentence his feet suddenly left the ground as his tall, lanky body was raised from the snow. The blond squeezed his eyes tightly, expecting to be body slammed into the cold abyss for revenge but instead, he felt a pleasant warmth surrounding him from all sides.

Fluttering his eyes open he's met with the sight of Techno's broad chest. Jerking his head up he stares at the piglin but the other is ignoring him, red eyes stubbornly looking forward as they continue their way through the foggy woods. Green eyes focus on the warm puffs of air escaping Techno's pink lips, the way his sharp tusks glint in the faint light like hidden daggers, and how his red eyes seem to sparkle brighter than the ice crystals littering the ground. This close, Techno's beauty is almost otherworldly.

Truly the God of Bones and Blood.

And now the God is carrying him. Carrying him bridal style while curling his precious red cape around them both.

Dream's cheeks quickly catch on fire at the unexpected turn of events.

Forcing himself to relax, he leans his cheek against Techno's armored chest, almost jerking back in surprise at how warm the other feel even through the thick layer of metal.

Oh Gods, Techno is burning, a steady warmth spilling from him in waves like a dying star. With the cape curled around them, keeping the cold air away and trapping Techno's body heat, Dream feels like he's sitting in a furnace.

A very soft, grumpy furnace.

He almost forgot how warm Techno is. When they were still in prison Dream didn’t really notice Techno’s abnormal body heat. Back then everything, the air, the water, the obsidian blocks, was hot to the touch. Soon Techno’s body heat just turned into another source of heat in the already stuffy cell.

Now, Dream welcomed the warmth.

For what feels like the first time in months, Dream feels the coldness leaves his body.

Letting out a sound that comes close to a purr, Dream leans back against Techno's chest. With his cheek pressed against the other’s armored chest, he can clearly hear Techno's strong heartbeat. The steady sound pulls him into a placid state where each one of his problems and haunting memories leaves his mind for a little while until all he can feel is the vibration of Techno's heart and the strong hands holding him up.

Protecting him.

"Just so you know, if the wolves decide to attack us, I'm throwing you into the snow." Technoblade's monotone voice drifts through the blurry edges of his mind, almost throwing him out of his serene bubble.

Not wanting to leave the peaceful corner of his mind just yet, Dream cuddles deeper into Techno's chest, successfully ignoring the Piglin's warning.

Above him Techno let out a long, tired sigh, yet, the hands around his waist are pressing him closer, a silent promise to shield him from any upcoming danger.

With a small smile on his lips, Dream lets himself sink into the peaceful abyss, the sound of Techno's heartbeat guiding him. He falls asleep to the familiar lullaby of Techno’s heartbeat.

And so, far up in the north where the sun rarely shines and the snow never stops falling, the blond warrior found his own sun to warm up his broken soul.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

This ask has been sitting in my inbox for weeks! Sorry that it took me so long, dear anon! I hope you like it!

#dreamnoblade #technodream #anon ask #sammy's book club #1900 words #fanfic

[twistnet]

in the mirror [ angel reyes ]

⋯ SUMMARY ; sometimes we just need to reassurance that we are seen, and that the struggles and negative thoughts we face are always easier when you have someone beside you to help you through it all // @imlostinsantacarla​

⋯ WARNINGS ; female!reader, tw [ negative thoughts -- body image ], general fluff + mature language 

⋯ NOTES ; no specific body type is described or mentioned. i tweaked one aspect [ body type descriptors ] of the request slightly, just to make it so anyone could read it. all other aspects of the request were kept the same. i tried to generalize as best as i could without dipping too far one direction as i know everyone experiences things differently

it had started out small. you found yourself going back and changing the outfit you had planned. having once gotten the outfit on, you found it not looking as good as you had imagined. nothing seemed to fit in the right way or just didn’t look go in general, making you wonder why you bought the piece in the first place.

as time progressed, you found yourself growing slightly envious of the girls that strut around the mayans clubhouse. not in the way of how they looked, but just how their bodies effortless pulled off the outfits they were wearing and they looked good. but you knew if yo had even attempted to try the same look, it wouldn’t look the same.

angel slowly took notice. he saw how you tended to cover yourself up more than previous, opting to wear one of his riding flannels instead of the cute tops you had hanging on your side of the closet. the way you hesitated when he asked you to accompany him to a club party or event, stating you were behind on work and wanted to catch up. and the way you had seemed to shy away from his touch whenever he came home from a long day and just wanted to feel his lover.

it took him some time to fully piece everything together. cursing himself for not noticing sooner, and the possibility that you had been struggling with this in silence. so he sought ways to make it know to you that he loves and appreciates you for who you are.

angel happened to step out of the bathroom right as you stepped in front of the mirror. he watched your smile fall, your eyes casting a glare over every inch of the dress you were currently wearing. he makes a split second decision, making his way over to you.

you caught his figure in the cast of the mirror, your lips upturning in a smile as he approaches, your hands smoothing down the front of the dress. "i'm not really feeling this dress. i'm gonna change." you stepped out from in front of him, hoping to skate around him before he questioned you. however, his hand caught your waist, gently guiding you back to stand in front of him, facing the mirror.

his arms crossed around your middle, his chin coming to rest on your shoulder as his looked at your reflection. "what don't you like about it, amor?" he asked softly, patiently waiting for you to answer. if he was honest, the dress looked absolutely stunning on you and he couldn't wait to show you off. but you had to be just as ready as he was.

your quiet for a short time, trying to find the right words to full explain just exactly how you were feeling. "i don't like how it fits." you pulled at the fabric that settled against your skin, your face scrunching up at the adjustment, "it...just doesn't look right on my body. i don't think anything looks good on my body." with a deep sigh, you got it out and it was off your chest.

"now, where did you get an idea, hmm?" his voice was smooth, no hint of anger or upset. he sounded genuinely curious as to why you were feeling the way that you were. "cause to me, you look like a fucking goddess. like damn, baby!" this pulled a chuckle from you, melting at the sweet words angel was sending your way. and just the way he had lovingly pulled you to rest against him was better than you could ever imagine. "everything you've worn has been stunning on you. i know that what i say won’t magically make everything better, and you won’t overcome what you feel in two minutes. so, i’m just gonna let you know, that i am here for you. your own personal hype man.”

tears pricked at the corner of your eyes, and you found yourself turning away to wipe away the stray tears that ran across your cheeks. the man behind you was willing to help you. and while he might not fully understand why you feel the way you do, he’s willing to work with it and make sure you are the best you can be. “do you want to stay home, or would you like to go to the party? it’s completely up to you, amor.” he hummed against your shoulder, gently swaying with you as he waited for your answer. content with whatever you wanted. “i would like to go.”

angel smiled against your shoulder, pressing a kiss to your bare shoulder as he stepped away from you. “okay, i’ll finish getting ready, and then we’ll head out.” he pressed a kiss to your cheek before heading back to the bathroom. he made it about halfway in before he turned around and stuck his head back out into the bedroom. “and keep the dress on, it looks hot on you baby.” he stated with a quick wink as he disappeared once more.

you shook your head, finding yourself smiling as you walked back to your vanity to apply the finishing touches to your makeup as you waiting for your boyfriend to finish up. and for the first time in weeks, you felt comfortable in your skin. it wasn’t going to be an instant change but you were happy to have your biggest hype man by your side.

blog navigation ⇢ [ mayans mc masterlist ]

#mayans #mayans fx #mayans x reader #mayans imagine #mayans mc #mayans mc fx #mayans mc x reader #mayans mc imagine #angel reyes #angel reyes x reader #angel reyes imagine #female!reader #twistnet #twistnet works 2021

[lucifucks]

OM !! brothers in hs

wrote this when I was bored so uh yeah (sorry some are longer than the others ;-;)

p.s: this may be wildly inaccurate bc well I've never been to a physical hs so yeah TT

Lucifer

• romodel student

• most likely a ta

• defiently in student council and probably is the president

• thinks he is the smartest person in the whole school district

• has no disregard for others feelings

• has friends that dont attend the same school

• only goes to lunch to eat then goes to the classroom to wait for class to start

• skips school events

• goes to the library sometimes but most of the time its to study

• doesnt bring his phone to school

• has really good grades

• probably has a shitload of honors classes

• has a lot of school rewards

• probably in the debate team

• secretly wants to be in the drama club

• attends school plays

• secretly likes psycology and philosophy class

• thinks hes good at drawing when hes just average

• likes painting

• really good at history class

Mammon

• probably in a wannabe gang

• popular

• class clown

• really bad grades but somehow passes math and is good at it

• tries everything to be seen as cool

• rowdy at lunch

• dresses like youre generic popular latino (bf yall say anything I'm hispanic)

• has drip

• has gotten suspended

• gets detention almost every day

• loves hip hop music

• probably a wannabe soundcloud rapper

• smells like cheap cologne and some type of food

• has a slit eyebrow

• says no homo

• has a piggybank

• probably really into streetwear

Levi

• watches anime in class

• doodles instead of taking notes

• known as the weird kid

• gets bullied

• eats lunch in the bathroom stall bc he has no friends

• probably draws fanart for his fav anime characters

• gets commissioned a lot and accepts them bc he secretly likes the attention

• really good at anything related with science

• average grades

• has akward posture

• messy hair

• looks like he has never gotten an ounce of sleep in his life

• gets really nervous before tests

• has considered cheating but chickened out

• doodles on his arms

• wants piercings but afraid of needles

• flexes his anime merch every chance he gets

• probably has anime themed school supplies

• probably has a clear phonecase

• has a fixiated crush on someone since middle school

• zero drip

• probably dyes his hair

• has longish hair

Asmo

• popular

• probably wears ankle braclets

• has really pretty hands

• dyes his hair a lot

• spends way too long in the bathroom

• smells like a thousand wishes from bath and body works

• only likes flowery scents

• has a very long routine

• only eats salads for lunch

• only likes healthy food

• wears a lot of pastels

• has dirt on everyone

• uses pantene for his hair

• probably either always hosting parties or going to them

• wears really high quality clothes

• probably makes his own outfits

• has a vsco girl waterbottle

• probably has a bulletin board in his room

• loves scrapbooking

• has a diary in which he writes in daily

• likes painting

• has cringy instagram captions

• uses snapchat 24/7

• quick replier

• texts 24/7

• probably texts in class

• paints his nails

• wears makeup

• always adjusting himself every chance he gets

• good posture

• pretty graceful in everything he does

• has really pretty pens and highlighters

• pretty notes

• has popular girl handwriting

Satan

• lives in the library

• has cat themed school supplies

• has a cat phone case

• probably sticks cat stickers on his locker

• reads every chance he gets

• really good at literature and english

• good grades

• a social loner

• in a lot of clubs

• loves poetry

• dresses like haruhi did in the ep 1 of ohshc

• likes soap operas

• a sucker for romance movies

• has tons of secret admirers

• probably wears glasses to school

• has pretty handwriting

• probably only uses a black pen

• has really messy notes

• his backpack is a whole mess

• has a journal

• has social media but doesnt use it

• secretly writes ffs and imagines

• his notes app is a whole other dimension

• probably delusional as fuck

• does others peoples homewotk bc he cant say no

• eats in the library at lunch

Beel

• perfers savory food

• loves sports

• a social butterfly while also being reserved

• well liked by everyone

• wears sport wear

• perfers ft over texting

• has 2 posts yet has a shitload of followers

• not that good in school

• loves animals

• actually pretty smart but underestimates himself

• gets really nervous before games

• probably hangs out with his friends a lot

• really pure

• doesnt have a crush and hasnt had one

• platonic vibes only

• gets really attached to u if your his friend

Belphie

• he loves sanrio core

• hes emo/alt

• hes really into astrology and spirituality

• he exclusively watches gore/horror anime

• he probably only has twt and tiktok

• hes on gore twt

• he vapes

• has really bad influences in his life while also being the bad influence

• only wear baggy clothes

• has his headphones in 24/7

• probably always takes the bus to go places

• loves fruit

• likes spicy/tangy foods

• he loves hightop converse

• very creative

• has piercings

• wears eyeliner

• probably has worn sfx makeup to school

• gets into a lot of fights

• tells people to kys

• glares at everyone who even glances at him

• probably has a death note and has written many names in it already

• is either really good or bad at school

• somehow does really well in finals

• chronic cheater

• secretly likes kpop and jpop

• wears beanies

• probably paints his nails black

• has dark ass eyebags

• looks dead inside out

• hes on alt tiktok

• skateboarder

#obey me shall we date #obey me #obey me headcanons #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obeymebelphegor #obey me brothers

[bqstqnbruin]

I hate your big dumb combat boots and the way you read my mind

We’re going to ignore all typos until I have time to fix them, and also ignore the fact that it’s four am and I have a 9 am class, but this was clearly more important.

Shout out to the anon who sent in the idea for the little blurb that I did that I ended up putting in here!

Prepare for the part all of y’all have been wanting! There’s some smut in this, so be warned that it’s not great leave me be. I still hope you like it!

Read the whole series:  I hate the way you talk to me and the way you cut your hair // I hate the way you drive my car // I hate it when you stare // I hate your big dumb combat boots and the way you read my mind // I hate you so much it makes me sick, it even makes me rhyme // I hate the way you’re always right // I hate it when you lie // I hate it when you make me laugh, even worse when you make me cry // I hate it when you’re not around, and the fact that you didn’t call // But mostly I hate the way I don’t hate you, not even close, not even a little bit, not even at all

___________________________

“It doesn’t matter if other people think it’s true or not. What matters is that we know it’s true. I love you.”

“Fuck you.” 

--------------------

“So, is there a reason it looks like a vacuum attacked Matthew’s neck in his latest Insta post? Did those appear last weekend when I was gone?” Evelina comes barging into your room, phone in hand. “Damn, you actually picked that outfit out?” 

You look at yourself in the mirror, your hair and makeup finished, the dress you had on for the charity event that Matthew was supposed to pick you up for any minute now. The black, off the shoulder high-low dress fit you perfectly, accenting every feature of your body in just the right way. But still, you weren’t quite sure if it was right. “It looks ok?” you ask her, going to your closet to find a pair of shoes to wear. 

“If you didn’t fuck each other after destroying each others necks while I was gone, you��re going to tonight.” Wiping around, you can’t help but glare at her. You did not love Matthew. But then, why did you have to keep reminding yourself about that. “Hey, I have until you finish the list to keep this up, let me live.” 

You were about to fire something back at her when you hear Matthew’s voice call from the living room. “We’re in Y/N’s room!” Evelina answers for you.

“You really abuse that key,” you say, not taking your eyes away from your closet as you try to find shoes to wear. You weren’t ready to look at him just yet. “Ev, help me find the right shoes!” 

She gets up as you hear Matthew sitting on your bed, the creak of the frame sending a shiver down your spine. “What about these?” she asks, holding up a pair of heels.

You scrunch up your face, telling her to find another option. “How does he look?” you whisper, just loud enough for her to hear.

She smiles at you, handing you another pair of shoes, “I think you need to look for yourself.” 

You put on the shoes, refusing to turn around until the last minute. You almost didn’t want to see what he looked like, but you turn to him anyway. The second you look at each other, you both stop breathing. He gets up from your bed, slowly, making his way to you while Evelina was watching off to the side. He looked perfect. The suit was fitting him just the right way, the tie in your favorite color to match the necklace you were wearing, his hair in a flawless mess, the curls going everywhere yet looking pristine at the same time. 

He couldn’t find the words to say to you, taking your hands in his as he scanned your entire body. “W-wow,” he stammers out, swallowing hard as he tries to make any sound. “You look,” he starts, not knowing what word could accurately describe how incredible he found you, “Wow.” 

You look down at your hands, intertwining your fingers in his. Everything about holding his hands just felt right. You look up at him, his blue eyes sparkling even in the shitty lighting of your bedroom. “Wow yourself,” you tell him, unable to fight the smile on your face, or control your breathing for that matter. 

You stood there standing for what felt like forever, until you were interrupted by Evelina clearing her throat, a smirk on her face. “Don’t you two need to get going?”

“Uh, yeah,” you say, breaking away, embarrassed that she just saw that. If she thought you loved him before, that would confirm it now. But you didn’t love him. You didn’t even like him. You had a list of things you hated about him, even if there were only four things on it. 

“Are you going to be alright in those shoes tonight?” he asks, looking down at the heels Evelina had picked out for you. 

“It’s not like Ev here would let me wear these,” you say, holding up your black, beat up combat boots. You hear her fake gag behind you, throwing them in her direction and purposefully missing so that you don’t break anything of yours.

“Those would ruin the look,” Matthew says, both of you looking shocked that words like that would even come out of him. “Actually, Ev,” he says, changing the subject and finally tearing his eyes away from you, “Elias wanted me to ask you something, privately?” he lies.

You and Evelina exchange glances before you leave your room. Elias has Evelina’s number, why didn’t he just ask her?

“What’s up?” she asks, sitting down on your bed, Matthew sitting next to her. He lets out a low groan, putting his face in his hands. “Y/N looks flawless,” he says, pain in his voice. 

“So what are you going to do about it?” she asks, pulling him up. “You both love each other. I know you know that. This whole list thing is ridiculous. She looks great, you look great, act,” she instructs him.

“I have tired. I can’t even kiss her on the lips without some sort of interruption. I can’t control that!” he whines, trying not to get too loud incase you were within ear shot. He’s wanted to do more than just kiss you this entire time. He’s flat out told you that and you somehow still missed the message. “How is it she’s so smart, yet so oblivious?” 

Evelina shrugs, pulling him up off the bed, “People who are book smart never have common sense, bub. I’ve been telling her she loves you since you two met. She doesn’t even listen to me.”

“This is hopeless,” he says, practically throwing himself back on your bed. 

“Nope, get up,” Evelina says, pulling him back up. Matthew nearly stumbles over and onto the floor, not expecting her to be as strong as she was. “Look, she only has four things on the list,” she explains, “I told you the first night, if she really hated you, she would have more than that. You still have two and a half weeks.” 

He looks at her, biting his lip and nodding as the two of them go out to find you waiting on the couch. “Ready to go?” he asks, putting his hand out for you. 

You get up, Evelina’s eyes going wide and her mouth falling open. “Wait, you left something in my room, Y/N,” she says, dragging you there. She closes the door behind you, “You’re not wearing underwear!” she tries hard not to scream. 

“It would show under the dress!” you try to protest, heat rushing to your cheeks.

“I have worn a dress much tighter than that and you couldn’t see mine,” she provokes you, her eyes gleaming, knowing that she was right.

“I have to go,” you sing to her, trying to get past her. 

“Admit it!” she yells as you run towards Matthew, taking him by the hand and dragging him out the door. 

“Bye, love you!” “I hate you!” 

You practically run Matthew to his car, praying that Evelina wasn’t following the two of you. “Do you want to talk about what that was just then?”

“I borrowed one of her shirts and haven’t given it back because I got a stain on it and haven’t done laundry yet,” you spit out the lie. There was no way you would tell Matthew that you weren’t wearing anything underneath the dress. Not yet. “So, uh,” you start to change the subject, “What is this event again?”

“Something with the organization and the season ticket holders? It’s fancy and I was told to wear game day clothes, so, here we are.”

You look at him for a moment, your eyes tracing his jawline like when you went to the liquor store. “You clean up really nicely, Rat Man,” you say, “You look really good.” 

He smiles with the left side of his face so you can’t see it. “You don’t look too bad yourself,” he tells you, wishing he could figure out the proper words to say what he really thought. “Excited for tonight?”

“Yeah, it’ll be nice to see the guys not drunk at a bar.”

“Right because seeing them drunk in a ballroom is better.” You both laugh, leaving the two of you in a comfortable silence as your phone buzzes with texts from Evelina.

‘This means you love him!’

‘No it does not. Who says I have to wear underwear under a dress?’

‘You never go without underwear. Admit you love him.’

‘I don’t love him.’

‘Do you like him?’ 

You take a minute to think, looking up from your phone to see Matthew watching the road. Like and love are two different things. You liked Elias, but did you like him in the same way you liked Matthew? Did you like anyone in the way you liked Matthew? ‘Sure.’ You roll your eyes as you hit send when Matthew finally puts the car in park. You didn’t even realize you were at the venue. Matthew gets out of the car, practically running to the passenger side to open the door and help you out. With your arm linked with his, you head inside, “Who would have thought you could be such a gentleman?” you tease. 

“Only for you, babe,” he says, sending a wink your way before dropping your arm to greet some of his teammates. “I’m going to get us some drinks?” he says, leaving you before asking you what you wanted. 

You wander around, finding Elias and making conversation with him while you wait for Matthew to come back. You had wanted a vodka sour, but would he come back with that?

“You look amazing, Y/N,” Elias starts, a smile on his face not unlike the one Matthew normally gives you. 

You feel yourself blushing at his comments, unable to hide the heat that was showing in your cheeks, “You look pretty great, too.” 

“Maybe at some point tonight, you’ll save a dance for me?” he asks, moving closer to you. This was the teammate that you’ve had a slight crush on since you met Matthew, so why didn’t you feel the same way with him as you did with Matthew? His hand reaches for your waist, but you move away from him, giving him an innocent smile before turning to see Matthew standing behind you with a drink in each hand.

He tried to hide the pain he felt watching Elias flirt with you. He knew you liked his teammate, and it was clear that Elias was seeing something in you that he hadn’t seen before. But you smile at Matthew, one very different from the one you had given his teammate. A real, genuine smile that reached your eyes. Matthew knew you felt the same way about him as he did about you from that, he just didn’t know if you knew. “Vodka sour for my girl,” he says, handing you the drink you had wanted.

You feel your knees buckle ever so slightly at the sound of hearing Matthew call him your girl, taking your free hand in his, intertwining your fingers. You immediately felt a warmth rushing through you as he gave you a soft smile, taking a sip of drink before starting a conversation with Elias. You start to look around at everyone surrounding you. The dance floor was crowded, you itching to get out there with Matthew. You both finish your drinks, probably too fast, but who cared? “Hey, can we go dance?” you ask Matthew before turning to Elias, “I don’t think you’ll be able to pry my from my guy tonight, Lindy, but if he lets you, I guess you can try.”

You drag him out to the dancefloor, your hands never losing connection as he looks back and smirks at Elias. The look on his face tells Matthew that this was intentional, whatever plan he had concocted working as a slow song came on. Matthew used his free hand to pull you in by the waist, your other hand on his shoulder as you swayed to the rhythm of the music. 

Your mind starts running free as you think about dance, Matthew chuckling before letting out, “You know something about the history of dance, don’t you?”

“How would you know I know that?” you ask him, shocked that he read your mind for a second time tonight.

He shrugs, spinning you away from him before bringing you close, his front pressed against you back as he whispered, “It just sounds like something you would know.” He spins you back around so you’re facing each other, him beaming down at you. “Go ahead,” he teases you.

“It’s specific towards Canada, is that ok with you?”

He leans down, his curls tickling your face, “Anything you say to me is fine.” 

“The first written record of dance in Canada,” you start, “was by Jacques Cartier in the 1530s. He described a group of Indigenous people dancing in modern day Quebec, but it’s obviously likely that this was going on way before he encountered them.” Matthew pulls you in closer, still moving with the music as you rest your head on his shoulder. He plants a soft, long kiss on your head as you continue. “Because of the idea 'assimilate or exterminate,’ where these Indigenous people had to either change their culture to fit that of the European settlers, or risk their culture being destroyed in its entirety, their practices of dance declined until the late 1990s when groups began investing more time into preserving these sacred dances as part of Aboriginal and Canadian culture.”

You lift your head off his shoulder as he starts kissing your neck, everyone around you disappearing as you felt his lips connect with your bare skin. “Europeans settlers brought their own forms of dance to the country, eventually infusing together to create new forms. Famous dancers like Martha Graham, Anna Pavlova and Ruth St. Denis started touring the United States and Canada, leaving their own imprint on the culture.” 

He lifts his head, his forehead against yours. You could feel him grow hard the more you talked, his dick pressed against you as you stifled a moan. “Modern dance got its start in Canada nearly a decade before ballet,” you say, Matthew kissing your forehead before connecting his back to yours, “In the 1940s, Montreal became the central hub for modern dance, and stayed that way for a while. Ballet came about in a professional manner, companies developing their own identities before performing and going onto the world stage.”

The song changes and you stop moving. Staring at each other, you finish, “All of it comes together into the dance we know today.”

“Y/N,” Matthew starts, obviously staring at your lips. He wanted to kiss you. He didn’t care that his entire team was around him; he didn’t notice anyone there but you. 

You don’t know what to say to him. You take your hands off his shoulders, cupping his face. His grip tightens around your waist, a confused look of his face. 

‘Fuck it,’ you think to yourself, just like you did the other day. Your lips connect with his, everything around you melting away as you moved in sync with each other. His tongue swipes your bottom lip, begging to enter your mouth, you gladly letting him. You can feel him smiling as his hands move up your back, your hands falling down to his chest. You pull away, both of you breathing slightly unevenly. Why did you just do that? You weren’t upset that you did, but why did you just do that?

“Wow,” he whispers to you, kissing you softly again. 

“Wow is right,” you let out. 

“Hey, uh, Matty?” you hear Elias’ voice behind you. You pull away from each other, both of you slightly embarrassed that he, along with everyone else, probably just saw that. “We’re trying to do a team photo,” he says, looking like he was trying to stifle a laugh or something. 

Matthew swallows, nodding and dropping his hands from your body. “I’ll find you later,” he reassures you before leaving. 

You try to catch your breath as you run to find your phone. ‘SOS’ you text Evelina, praying that she was looking at her phone and not already asleep.

‘What?’

Your fingers hover over the screen of your phone. Do you tell her what just happened? You tell her everything, so why would you leave this out? 

‘I have another thing to add to the list’

‘This list needs to be electronic so I don’t have to get out of bed every time you think of something new’

‘Do you want to know or not’

‘Duh’

‘The way he reads my mind’

‘That’s dumb, but fine. Are you at least having fun?’

‘Yeah.’ You put your phone away before you can say anything else to her. If she found out you kissed each other - no, if she found out you kiss him, she would have a field day. You would never hear the end of it, list or not. All you had to do was rejoin the event and hope you could find Matthew.

Staying off the side, watching the event unfold, you couldn’t find him anywhere. There was something fun about seeing all the guys and their wives and girlfriends dressed up like they were, whatever photo they were doing clearly taken. The season ticket holders and management looked good, even though you had no idea who any of them were. 

“Hey,” you hear a man’s voice say to you, taking you out of the trance as you fixated on Johnny and Meridith, admiring the way they looked at each other while they were dancing. If they were back out on the dance floor, Matthew had to be following suit soon, right? “I’m Reggie.” He sticks out his hand, you smiling at him to shake it as you introduce yourself. “So, are you here with someone, or are you a ticket holder?”

“I’m here with one of the guys,” you say, trying to see if you can find him anywhere. Something about this guy wasn’t quite right, and you really prayed for an out from talking with him. 

“Really? Which one?”

“Me,” you hear Matthew’s voice say, his arms wrapping around you as you feel your shoulders relax. “Thanks for keeping my girl company.” Reggie just nods and smiles, walking away and leaving the two of you in the position you were in. Matthew holds you tighter, your hands reaching up to touch his. “You are the most beautiful girl here,” he whispers.

“You’re just saying that,” you tell him, feeling his breath on your neck as he lets out a sigh. “What if I said you were the most handsome guy here?” 

He freezes, swallowing hard and thankful that he was behind you so you couldn’t see the grin covering his face. Calling you his girl was something he said just to get the guy away, but after that comment, after that kiss, there was nothing more he wanted than to call you that and mean it. “What if we get out of here?” he whispers, kissing you between your shoulder blades. 

A chill runs down your shine as he kisses along your back, moving your hair to your shoulder as you can’t help but let out a low moan, “Matthew.” 

He moves his way up your neck, ending at your ear, “Come on. Do you want to go somewhere more private?” he whispers before his teeth connect with your earlobe. You didn’t expect that to do what it did to you. 

When he pulls away, you turn to him, mirroring the smile on his face. “Where did you have in mind?”

“Is it too early to leave?” you ask him, running your hands down his chest. 

“I’m ready if you are, babe,” he says, kissing you softly on your lips yet again. God, he hoped this was the start of something. Knowing what this was like, he could only imagine what more would be. 

He takes your hand, leading you back out to his car. You look back over your shoulder before leaving the building, out of sheer curiosity as to whether or not anyone saw you. You make eye contact with Elias, who winks, raising his glass in the air to you as the two of you disappear through the door. “Your place or mine?” he asks as the two of you practically sprinted to his car. Given what you were both sure was about to happen, he answers his own question, “Mine, got it.” 

You couldn’t concentrate the entire way to his place, thinking about what this was going to be like. You both wanted it and didn’t. You didn’t love him. You couldn’t love him. Evelina was in no way right about you being in love with each other. You just were both horny, right? That’s all it was?

Matthews hands don’t leave your body once you get out of the car. Whatever cameras were around the lobby of his building, the elevator, the hallway leading to his door caught everything. He was kissing you passionately, as if doing this was something that he had been waiting for. His hands gripped your butt, so tight that you had to hold back a scream of pleasure as he sucked away at your neck, something he seemed to like doing more than you expected. 

You were surprised your clothes were even still on by the time you get to his door. You could only imagine how red and bruised your neck was, the handprints that had to be left on your ass from him, your mind going blank as you were sure you would regret anything. 

You practically rip off his suit jacket, both of you impatient to get everything off each other. “Are you sure you’re ok with this?” he stops, his hands on the zipper of your dress as you bounced up and down, dripping with anticipation.

“All you have to do is take off the dress,” you tell him, his eyes going wide.

He swallows hard, “N-nothing underneath?” he asks you. That would mean that you were expecting something to happen tonight, right? Or did it mean nothing? He really hoped it meant the first thing. 

“Yes, take it off, come on,” you whine. 

He does as you ask, his lips connecting with yours, simultaneously taking off your dress and leaving it in the hallway while you unbutton his shirt and leave it there with it. You were down to nothing as he threw you on the bed, him rushing to take his pants off to climb on top of you. You spread your legs for him as he climbs on top off you, kissing you from your hip bone up to your mouth. “You’re really sure?” he asks you, in a quiet voice.

You nod, taking his face in your hands, “I’m sure,” you say before he kisses you again. You give him all the access he wants, the tip of his dick rubbing against your already wet opening, teasing you as you whined for him, “Fuck me, Matty.”

“I will, baby,” he says, pushing his hips against yours as he enters inside you. 

You spend the night, both of you kissing, whining, moaning, begging for each other, everything you had ever imagined with any other guy, you were doing with Matthew. You didn’t want it to be anyone else.

You were so busy, so hungry for everything Matthew had to offer, you didn’t know your phone was buzzing, texts from Evelina flooding your phone.

‘Where are you????’

‘You were supposed to be home by now.’

‘Why isn’t your phone location updating? Elias said you guys left hours ago.’

‘Please tell me you’re ok.’

#Matthew tkachuk #matthew tkachuk imagine #calgary flames #calgary flames imagine #flames #flames imagine #nhl #nhl imagine #hockey #hockey imagine

[luxekook]

chapter three.

⇥ pairing: ot7 x reader (insert gif of elmo with flames behind him here)

⇥ genre: college au with fluff, smut & angst

⇥ summary: a series in which the reader meets (and falls for) seven members of the Beta Tau Sigma (BTS) fraternity

⇥ word count: 2.3k

⇥ warnings: 18+, cursing, dirty talk, jimin propositions the reader accidentally, taehyung is a menace, noona kink jumps out A LOT, chaotic ot7, talk of poly relationships, overall kinda smut free (the next chapter should quench fuel your thirst)

© luxekook. please do not repost, modify, edit or translate.

characters | prologue | one | two | three | four | five | six | seven | eight | nine

Chapter Three

“It means that we’re going to date the shit out of you.”

We’re going to date the shit out of you.

We’re. Going. To. Date. The. Shit. Out. Of. You.

Those words play on a constant loop in my head for the rest of the week. After Namjoon had dropped that bombshell on me, I’d kind of freaked the fuck out, faked an immediate illness, and ran at full speed.

When I had told Luna about it later that night, she had been just as shook as me. Surprisingly enough, she had also given her full support of whatever I decided to do but “would have her banana slicer on standby and would order six more if need be”.

It appears that she had drunk-ordered a banana slicer off Amazon when the last boy she talked to pissed her off. I had apparently drunk-approved the decision. Rad.

Jenni’s reaction had been even better. We’d been in the library on Monday and her screech of “he said what!?” had led to multiple events:

An abundance of shushes from every student within a 50-yard radius

Her continued rant: “Your own personal harem! Can you say goals? Maybe I should infiltrate EXO and collect my own...”

Us getting kicked out by our ancient librarian

For the rest of the week, I had Luna and Jenni both giving me shit about the BTS boys. It had helped that I hadn’t run into them at all on campus between classes. But I had known it wouldn’t be long before my luck would run out...

Quinn Library – 2:31pm

Typically, I don’t spend my Friday afternoons deep within the stacks of the library’s quiet floor. Yet, here I sit typing frantically due to my incapability to stop procrastinating. My fingers fly over the keys of my aging MacBook in hopes that whatever spur of productivity I had going on is captured in its fullest.

General education classes could burn in the pits of hell as far as I'm concerned. If I wanted to be a psychiatrist, why did I have to take – and pay for – an art elective that I would likely never utilize in the workforce? Plus, the only class within the category that fit my schedule ended up being “Writing About Dance”.

Yeah, I’m still a tad bitter, but in all honesty the class isn’t that bad so far. It mainly consists of watching different dance performances and learning how to write about them in different styles.

Today’s assignment is to write critical commentary on videos of the university’s dance team that the professor provided for us. Sighing, I finish my review of the second to last dance video provided by the professor, take a quick second to stretch, and then open the link to the last video on the assignment page.

“Park Jimin – Final Performance Solo, Spring 2019”

Slack-jawed, I fall into wonder as Jimin moves through his routine flawlessly. He dances like it’s easier than walking to him. His movements are somehow precise and fluid all at once. I barely realize a few tears have run down my cheeks until the video cuts off, signaling the end of Jimin’s performance.

Jesus, (y/n), get it together. I laugh lightly as I dig in my backpack for a tissue. How could I possibly capture the ethereal beauty that Jimin exuded into words? Am I even worthy of commenting on such exquisiteness?

Definitely fucking not. And before I can second guess myself, I type: “Park Jimin is art in its purest form. Watching him dance is like watching the sun rise over the ocean – raw beauty accompanied by the hopes brought with a new day. His performance left me wanting for nothing except an encore.”

Boom. Submit Assignment.

As my email pings with the confirmation that my assignment is turned in, my eyes widen in realization. Park Jimin of BTS is a dance god, and he – allegedly – wants to date me? That is just ridiculously unfathomable.

Namjoon must be off his rocker.

Closing my laptop, my phone suddenly vibrates with an incoming notification from snapchat...

President_RM has added you!

Before I can even comprehend the absurdity of Namjoon adding me, my phone bursts into a series of buzzes. Cursing, I switch my phone to silent and check my screen.

minsuga93 has added you!

jhopeworld_ has added you!

handsomeJIN has added you!

JKookie97 has added you!

vantae_BTS has added you!

95jiminie has added you!

Are they serious? How did they even get my SnapChat username?

vantae_BTS has added you to a chat!

Curiosity wins out over aggravation as I swipe to open the chat.

Heart pounding, I fight the urge to chuck my phone into the depths of the bookcases winding around the room. What did those idiots want with me?

(y/n) & Luna’s Apartment – 9:45pm

“What do those idiots want with me?” the decibel my voice has risen to is shocking even to my ears.

Luna cringes, accordingly, “I can’t tell if that’s a rhetorical question...”

I steamroll onwards, “And don’t even get me started on how they could have even gotten my snapchat. It’s a complete invasion of privacy!”

“You could just ask them,” Jenni’s voice cuts through my rambling tirade.

I pause, “No, I couldn’t—”

...Or could I?

Turning on my heel, I rush into my room and head straight for my closet. Grabbing the nearest sweatshirt and pair of leggings, I tug them on and then grab my keys from my nightstand.

Whirling back into the living room, I storm past a dumbfounded Luna and Jenni, “Be right back.”

Opening the apartment door, Luna shouts, “Wait! Where are you going? You’re not even wearing shoes!”

Whoops. I glance at my feet and note that she is, in fact, correct.

Jenni bounds over to me holding my Doc Martens, “Here, babe. You’re going to the BTS house, aren’t you?”

I nod grimly and salute my two best friends as if I'm going into battle. “I won’t be long. I just have a small errand to run.”

“Well, you’re not going alone,” Luna declares, pulling on her sneakers.

Jenni snorts and shoves her feet into her beat-up Converse, “No way am I missing out on this action.”

As we head out the door, I link arms with Luna and Jenni, “Have I mentioned I love you both recently?”

“Right back at you, bitch,” Luna laughs.

Greek Row – 10:17pm

Ten minutes later, we reach Greek Row. Fraternity and sorority houses dot the street on both sides. Personally, I think of this street as home to the chaotic rich, and I tend to avoid it at all costs – except tonight.

The line to get into BTS is so long it wraps around the block. Students dressed in the latest fashions converse as they wait, huddling together in their groups. I glance down at my outfit of a worn university hoodie and leggings.

“Well, shit. We’re underdressed, huh,” Jenni deadpans, causing all three of us to burst into laughter, “Do you think they put you on the list, (y/n)?”

Pondering that thought, I shrug, “Maybe,” and begin marching past the line of waiting students towards the front door of BTS, “But I sure as fuck am not waiting in that line.”

“Hey, there’s a line here!”

“Yo, bitches! What are you doing?”

“What the fuck?”

Paying the hecklers no mind, I saunter right up to the BTS pledges guarding the door, “Hi, I need to talk to Kim Namjoon.”

The pledge on the right rakes his gaze over me incredulously and then makes the same assessment of Luna and Jenni, “You know this is a party, right?”

I don’t deem that comment worthy of a response and instead cross my arms over my chest. He shrinks under the collective glare of me, Luna and Jenni.

The pledge on the left awkwardly clears his throat, “Names, please?”

My answer barely escapes my lips before the pledges visibly straighten, looking at me with new eyes, “You’re (y/n)? Why didn’t you just say so?”

And before I can answer, the front door swings open for us.

People are everywhere. A haze of smoke looms in the air, and rap music blares from the speakers. The bass is turned up so loud that the beat seems to take over the rhythm of my pulse. That cannot be healthy.

Turning to my friends, I do my best to communicate, shouting, “I’m going to find them! Are you going to be here?”

Luna and Jenni exchange a look and nod. Jenni shouts back, “We’re going to get some drinks. Might as well capitalize on free booze! Text us when you’re ready to go.”

And with that, we part ways.

Maneuvering around the sea of gyrating bodies in the main living room area, I scan around for any signs of my seven menaces.

“Do my eyes deceive me? Or is that my future wife?” The deep voice booms from behind me.

I sigh, recognizing the voice, and turn around.

Kim Taehyung is striding towards me with his arms outstretched, smiling like the damned fool he is and looking like he just stepped off the runway for Gucci. “Come to daddy.”

An idea forms. I smile sweetly and walk to meet Taehyung halfway. His boxy grin widens and just as he thinks I'm going to let him wrap his arms around me, I grab him by the ear.

“Ouch!” He cries, “Devil-woman!”

Ignoring him, I drag him behind me towards the stairs.

“If you wanted to get me alone, you could have just asked—OW!”

My hold on his ear tightens as we arrive on the second-floor landing, “Where are your brothers?”

“I don’t know, n-noona!” Somehow the honorific coming from Tae sounds divine, but I file that thought away for another time.

Removing my hold, I corner him against the wall of the hallway, “Okay, Kim, here’s what is going to happen. You’re going to point me in the direction of your room, go find your six idiot brothers, and then report back here so I can finally understand what the fuck is going on. Got it?”

My chest heaves as my directions conclude and I realize how close together we are. Taehyung stares at me with an indecipherable expression before breaking into a slow smile, “Noona is bossy.”

“Noona is going to shove her foot up your ass if you don’t get moving,” I growl.

“Kinky,” he laughs, backing away from me and my brewing anger, “Last door on the left is my room. I’ll be back with the six idiots.”

As he thumps back down the steps, I close my eyes and count to ten, trying to steel my nerves and rein in my anger. When I open them, my eyes are met with the amused gaze of Min Yoongi.

Slapping a hand to my heart, I wait for my pulse to settle from being scared out of my wits, “Motherfuck—how did you even move that silently?”

“It’s a skill,” Yoongi drawls, nodding towards to end of the hall, “So, group meeting in Tae’s room?”

Shooting him the best side-eye I can muster, I stalk past him, steadfastly ignoring the chuckles and light footfalls that follow behind me.

Throwing open the door which Taehyung indicated was to his room, I pause, taking in the horde of photos and art taped to the four walls. The light blue wallpaper barely peeks through the absolute massive amount of artwork.

“It’s overwhelming at first, isn’t it?” An angelic voice shyly breaks through my reverie, “Tae likes to collect pictures and things he finds beautiful.”

“Ah, so that’s why we’re friends.” The joke is followed by a laugh that can only be compared to the sound of a windshield wiper squeakily moving back and forth.

I shift my eyes from Taehyung’s walls and onto the two newcomers – Park Jimin and Kim Seokjin.

Meeting Seokjin’s gaze first, I cannot help but agree that he is a very, very beautiful man. With pushed back dark hair, mischievous brown eyes and impossibly broad shoulders, Seokjin can easily be mistaken for an idol. And, oh fuck, I’m still staring.

Shooting my eyes back up to his, I crinkle my nose at his shit-eating grin. Before he can even comment, I turn and lock eyes with Jimin.

“Your dancing is gorgeous,” I blurt out and immediately want to crawl under a rock and live out the rest of my life as Patrick Star.

Yoongi and Seokjin are cackling as Jimin’s face lights up at my embarrassing compliment, “You really think so?”

“There's no shutting him up now,” Yoongi is in tears, “Watch out, (y/n). Jimin loves his fans.”

“Shut up, Yoongi-hyung!”

Jimin looks ready to swing, but luckily Taehyung chooses the right moment to return, “What have we missed? Why is Jiminie about to fight Yoongi? I’ll put $10 on hyung.”

Gasping in betrayal, Jimin sits on the edge of Tae’s bed and pouts.

The rest of the boys file in behind Taehyung as he flops down onto his bed and reclines like he doesn’t have a care in the world.

“Hi, (y/n). Good to see you again. I’m glad you’re here,” Namjoon greets me with a slight bow, a crooked smile and wicked eyes.

He’s followed closely by Jung Hoseok, the only BTS boy I hadn’t met thus far, “(y/n)! It’s so nice to meet you in person! Wow, you look so pretty tonight!”

“Noona always looks pretty,” Jungkook cuts in, throwing an arm around Hoseok’s shoulder, “She’s bae.”

A collective groan arises from the rest of the boys. “Sit your ass down, JK,” Yoongi grumbles, “(y/n)’s going to break up with us before we even start dating.”

“Dating—!” I break off that train of thought. Other matters need to be attended to first, “No, I didn’t come here tonight to say ‘hi’ or to be your ‘bae’. I came here to get answers.”

I take my time making eye contact with each boy.

Taehyung is still spread out on his bed and Jimin has now joined him. Seokjin, Hoseok and Jungkook are sprawled out on the floor at the foot of the bed, while Namjoon and Yoongi slouch against the opposite wall of the bedroom facing me.

“Alright,” Namjoon lifts his chin, meeting my stare head on, “What do you want to know?”

a/n: sorry for the cliffhanger, hehe. i wanted to get something up for y’all! hopefully next chapter won’t take too long to finish/edit :)

taglist:

@hazeljrz @sessi03 @catsandstrawberries @h5naaa @meowmeowyoongles@leftflowerprunedonut @rjsmochii @athletes-of-god @karissassirak  @weallhavesecretsinthebestway @cvbachacbitch @bewitch3dforivar @honeyspillings @xxonyxpearlxx​ @fivesecondsofsarang @oii-f-eli-x2 @joonsroses @theevilyouknow @jooniescupcakes @expensive-grl @i-dont-even-know-fck @doingmybestalltheftime @elraeee @fangirling-all-the-way-tbh @laced-brds @aokay1010 @breeeeh17 @lpayne612 @peachyharmoney @rilakoya @chulchuchi @tabula-rasa0 @guccishookv @nomimits7 @i-like-puppy-mg @s-noir @anna-sorel  @valiantcollectorofsandwiches​ @cage7241​

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@awkwardhumambean

#btswritingcafe #bts #bts fanfic #bts fic #bts x reader #bts smut #bts au #bts imagine #ot7 x reader #bts ot7 #namjoon #seokjin #yoongi #hoseok #taehyung #jimin #jungkook #poly bts #college bts #namjoon x reader #seokjin x reader #jungkook x reader #yoongi x reader #hoseok x reader #taehyung x reader #jimin x reader