#Rockstar!loki

[szintaart]

"look into the trash and find a god" @ohmerricat 2024

instead of the cherry style at first i was gonna give them pink hair too but then I realized oh no. Loki would absolutely be the kind of person to pair RGB red hair with a pink crop top, which is in and of itself diabolical

[awkward-walking-potato]

Little Dove pt4

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4  

My promo was Rockstar AU and Dangerous woman by Ariana grande

So I wrote this for @caplansteverogers writing challenge.

Thank you so much to @everythingiwritesucksoop for reading though and helping me edit things x 

Summary: You’re at the height of your career and you were becoming one of the best pop singer in America but what happens when your path crosses with a certain Rockstar.

Warnings - mentions drinking 

Y/N - your name, Y/L/N- your last names

Please leave feedback - 🥔💕

You know how they say ‘the calm before the storm’? That’s exactly how it felt as you walked up the stairs to your apartment, where you knew the Grandmaster would be waiting. It was 6 am—his usual time to appear with a glass of green juice and a bottle of vitamins. "It keeps your throat clear and free of bacteria," he always said, but every time you took a sip of that green sludge, you wanted to vomit.

Bingo. There he was, sprawled out on your couch, green smoothie and vitamins in front of him. “Oh, my darling Y/N, I cannot believe he kidnapped you like that. He’s a vile man, Y/N. We’ll inform the police right away.”

Here’s the thing: the Grandmaster was a master at bullshitting, twisting situations to his advantage, regardless of who got hurt in the process.

“That really won’t be necessary. I went willingly, and it was my idea. If you call the police, that’s exactly what I’ll tell them.” One night of freedom, and you were already speaking up for yourself. Judging by the look on the Grandmaster’s face as you walked straight past him to your room, he was just as shocked. Loki’s words from last night must have really made an impact.

———Flashback to Last Night———

“Loki, I love this song! Dance with me, you promised we’d dance.” You giggled, a bit tipsy from the shots you’d done with a nice lady named Sif. Stumbling over to his table, you grabbed his arm, separating him from Heimdall, who cheered as you led Loki to the center of the dance floor.

“More Than a Woman” by the Bee Gees played through the speakers as you wrapped your arms around Loki’s neck, him doing the same around your waist. “Oh, my sweet little dove, how can you like this song? It’s ridiculously cheesy,” he laughed, resting his forehead against yours and tightening his grip on your waist.

“My little caged bird, so beautiful and trapped, unable to spread your wings and see the world beyond the bars. Next time you want to spread your wings, call me, okay? Don’t let him clip your wings; they’re too beautiful for that.” His breath tickled your neck as he whispered those sweet words to you.

———End of Flashback———

You spent the rest of the morning flipping through TV channels, waiting for something to catch your eye. And something certainly did. Stopping on E! News, you noticed a photograph of you and a country singer the Grandmaster had once introduced you to. The headline read, "Jeff aka the Grandmaster confirms Y/N’s engagement to Jesse Page."

The room started spinning as they played a phone call with the Grandmaster confirming the engagement. You knew there was only one thing you could do. “Loki, I need you.”

If you were his dove, then he was your raven—slightly mischievous but always knowing the exact thing to do. It took him only ten minutes to appear in front of your apartment, where he had dropped you off just a few hours ago. But you sounded desperate on the phone, so he made sure to get there as quickly as possible.

You didn’t care if the Grandmaster was still in your apartment. You didn’t stop to look. You just ran out as fast as you could, wanting to be wrapped up in the wings of your raven.

[thevibraniumveterans]

❗️(slight) spoilers for both Loki S1 and Antman 3❗️

LOKI: The Kang Dynasty's Secret Plan Finally Revealed | Deep Dive

[nildespirandum]

I had a vivid dream about Loki as Lux Interior while going home from work today, probably fuelled by exhaustion and the Cramps’ playlist playing ‘What’s Inside a Girl?’, and wanted to share this fantasy with you. Maybe a Variant!Loki moonlighting as a rock star? Somehow I cannot picture Nora as a Poison Ivy-esque character, though she would definitely feel at home among crazy, uber cool rockers.

I hope everything is well on the other side of the world dear Nil, I am re-reading the first Instalment of the Infinity Stone playlist and the Power Point joke itself is enough to sustain me during these trying times at work.

@sylviefromneptune I was just thinking about you and how one of the things I miss most as I go through this endless dry spell with my writing is your thoughtful, brilliant comments.

Rock star Loki - especially the myth version of him - has always been real in my head. I think Lux is (was, RIP Genius) a perfect match for him in energy, in sexiness, in chaos. I could see Nora having a band that opened for them on some Midwestern dates, and the two of them wrangling around each other, maybe his inviting her onstage to do a number with him. Maybe a punk version of "It Ain't Me".....?

I need to think about this....

I hope everything is well on your side of the world, and that your do more than survive at work. That people are still reading my stuff is more than I could ever have hoped for.

[lokiondisneyplus]

LOKI SEASON 2 TRAILER New Footage Breakdown! Victor Timely & Loki vs TVA!

[angelaf1978]

If loki was a rockstar what ,to you think he would call his band ?❤️

[msclaritea]

Somebody's mad! Kirawontmiss is a huge troll, followed by tons of gamers, programmers, and online media startups. Silicon Valley is only good for birthing parasites. If Disney competitors can't control the narrative of who gets picked for the Young Avengers, they'll just attack and potentially ruin another project for young adults that doesn't include drug usage, physical abuse and teens having nothing better to do in their lives than open an Onlyfans blog. What's even worse is the troll above is connected to New Rockstar, which has been promoting Loki 2, pretty hard. So, it seems that someone on Tom Hiddleston's p.r. team is engaging in harassment of the same company, Disney, that he's currently representing.

[simplyholl]

The Interview

Summary: After a talk show interview where secrets are revealed, things get heated in your dressing room.

Pairing: Rockstar Bucky x F. Reader

Warnings: Smut. 18+ Only. Minors DNI. Rockstar AU.

See My Masterlist Here

A/N: Sebastian Stan as Tommy Lee has me in a chokehold. So this was born from my tatted, horny daydreams.

"Who is your celebrity crush?" The host of the Midnight Show, Chet Smith asked you. Your newest movie was a box office hit, so you had to do every talk show to promote it. To say you were exhausted is an understatement. Luckily, this was your last stop for today. This show was the most fun because Chet brought out all the celebrity guests together. At least you weren't by yourself answering awkward questions.

The other guests were Red Star, the hottest rock band at the moment. They went viral while playing at their local bar. An audience member threw a bottle at their lead singer, Loki and the whole band jumped off stage to fight. They were offered a record deal the same week.

They are known for their wild videos on TikTok. Women everywhere love them. Currently, they are squeezed on the small sofa with you for the interview. Bucky Barnes, their drummer sat on one side of you, his tattoos drew you in like a moth to a flame. You were doing your best to not stare at him the whole time.

The Odinson brothers, Thor and Loki were on the other side. Loki is the lead singer, his long, dark curls and piercing stare made men and women weak in the knees. Thor plays guitar and he is the band's himbo. He's a charmer, flirting with you the whole interview. Steve Rogers is their bassist, an All-American guy to balance the others out. He plays the part well, flashing his megawatt smile at the live audience. But you can tell there is a darker side to him lurking under the surface.

You consider Chet's question; your PR team warned you about questions like this. "Well, I don't really have one." You shrug your shoulders, as the audience begs for a real answer. "Come on, darling. I know you're lying." Loki smirks, reaching his hand over Thor to rub your thigh.

"If I go first, will that help?" Steve asks, being the helpful guy that he is. You nod smiling shyly at him. "Okay, but when it's your turn you have to be honest." He winks at you, and the audience goes wild. He answers one of your costars. You promise to hook them up later. You feel your cheeks heating up, suddenly embarrassed that you have to answer now.

Chet repeats the question, and you bite your lip, pointing beside you to Bucky. "My celebrity crush is actually this guy." Bucky looks ecstatic, high fiving his band members as they congratulate him as if he has won an award. Thor's answer is a pretty pop star who he had been spotted out with twice already.

Loki's celebrity crush is a famous author whose upcoming book features a main male character who looks suspiciously like him. Dating rumors swirled even though there was no proof, except for a few flirty comments between them on Instagram. When it's Bucky's turn he says you, draping his heavily tattooed arm around you. You smile, grateful that he lied to save you from public humiliation. You were sure he was going to say someone who didn't look anything like you.

You're already dreading what the headlines tomorrow had in store. You and Bucky cuddled up on this sofa would no doubt be on every website. You should have lied, you tell yourself. People will start shipping you, his fans would be saying horrible things about you. You should have said anyone else.

Red Star took the stage to close the show. They were playing their latest number one hit. The audience was on their feet, some girls were crying as Loki's sultry voice came over the speakers. You watched Bucky closely. He played the drums like it was his life's purpose. He tossed the drumsticks in the air, pointing to you and winking as he caught them. It was the sexiest thing you had ever seen.

When their set was over, Bucky walked toward the dressing rooms with you, stopping outside yours. "Thanks for saying I was your celebrity crush back there. I would have been so embarrassed if you would have said somebody else." He flips his hair out of his eyes. "You don't have to thank me. It was the truth." You tell him goodbye, feeling awkward about the whole thing. You turn to go inside your dressing room to change into comfy clothes before you go back to the hotel.

Thick fingers catch your wrist, pulling you back toward him. "I wasn't ready to tell you bye." Bucky's lips curl, the light shines on his nose ring, bringing attention to his face. When you look into his shining blue eyes, you realize you don't want him to leave either. You grab the sides of his leather jacket, pulling him toward you. His mouth is on yours instantly. He presses you against your dressing room door, his large body covering yours.

You tangle your fingers in his long locks, needing him closer. Bucky hungrily kisses down your neck, while one hand travels under your dress. He rubs his thumb against your soaked panties. "All this for me?" You whine when he rubs harder, your clit making contact with the silky fabric. You move your hips, lost in the moment.

Voices echo down the hallway, bringing you out of your horny haze. "Bucky" You whisper, trying to warn him so he has time to stop before they see you. "Shh. I got you." He moves his body, so he is blocking you from view. His fingers are relentless, dipping inside your panties. His rough thumb rolls over your clit, you bury your face into his chest.

"Oh my God, It's Bucky! We are huge fans!" A woman's voice comes from behind him. You aren't brave enough to look, so you keep your face hidden. "Thanks guys. I love meeting fans. So, what's your favorite song?" You try to pinch him so he will get rid of them, but he continues talking about the world tour they are about to go on.

He enters you with two fingers, curling them as you moan out loud. The women look around him, finally noticing you. "Is she okay?" The second one asks. "Yeah, she's fine. She just ate too much so she has a stomachache." His fingers caress your inner walls, thumb rubbing in small circles. The band in your belly snaps, arousal flooding his hand as you come apart. Your legs shake, and you hold onto his arm to steady yourself. You clench your teeth to keep from making noise.

"You better get her inside; she can barely stand." One of the women says. They tell you both goodbye, as Bucky leads you inside your dressing room. "You did so good for me, but I need more." You look at him incredulously. He just made you cum the hardest you ever had in your life in front of two strangers and that wasn't enough.

Your legs are still trembling as he lifts you onto the vanity. Your back hits the cool mirror as Bucky slides your panties down your legs. His hot breath tickles your thighs as he lowers his face, pressing kisses to your inner thighs. He takes his time, nipping your sensitive skin. He licks a lazy stripe up your center, avoiding where you need him most. His tongue sinks inside you, firm nose pressing against your clit.

You cry out, head falling back, knocking into the mirror behind you. It bangs against the wall, hard enough to rattle the pictures hung there. Bucky drinks every drop of you, moaning as you writhe against his face. His plump lips fasten around your swollen nub, sucking and tugging like he can't get enough.

Your shaking legs close around his head, trapping him as you ride out your high. You cry his name, not caring who hears you. Bucky lifts you, slamming you against the wall. He holds you with one arm, the other works quickly to bring his pants down. His cock springs free, pink tip leaking. You swallow hard, intimidated by his size. "You're so big." You shiver, anticipation putting you on edge. He holds you, lining your bodies up.

"You can take it." He snaps his hips up, slamming into you. You try to adjust as he stretches you, wiggling around to see if the stinging will go away. When it starts feeling good, your arms wrap around his neck, holding on as he pulls out, leaving the tip in. He thrusts back into you, bottoming out. You have never felt so full, he fills every inch of you. He sets a steady rhythm, every part of him feels like it was made for you. You pulse around him, your back hitting against the wall as he sinks impossibly deeper.

Bucky bunches your dress around your hips, thick fingers digging into your skin as he fucks you. You try to meet his thrusts, but you're too weak from the explosive orgasms he already gave you. You hold onto him as he uses your body, his ragged breath on your neck brings forth the familiar pressure in your lower stomach.

"You're doing so good. Fuck! You take me so well." He praises, moving your thigh higher up his torso. He holds it in place, tilting his hips. The new angle makes your vision blur as he deliciously drags against a place you were sure was a myth until this very moment. Your nails dig into the back of his neck as you shatter around him.

Bucky's thrusts grow brutal, taking what he needs from you. "Oh fuck" He moans as he spills inside you. For a moment, you just look at each other, trying to catch your breaths. Thankfully, he knows you can't stand on your own, so he carries you to the sofa. Your dress is still around your waist, arm over your eyes. You can already feel a dull ache in your stomach where he had been just moments ago.

"Do you mind?" Bucky asks, pointing his phone toward you. You narrow your eyes, not understanding. "You're just so fuckin' hot and I wanna remember this." He says, his meaning finally dawning on you. You nod, almost too tired to speak. He angles his phone camera toward you. "Fucking perfect." He examines the photo he just took before showing you.

Your hair is disheveled, giving you the appearance of being caught in a windstorm. Your cheeks are flushed, eyes blown wide with lust. The top of your dress barely contains your breasts. The bottom is by your hips, your exposed cunt glistening with his cum. Bucky set the picture as his phone's background. You protested because you looked like a mess. Bucky stopped your arguing with a kiss. "You know what you look like?" He asks, smiling wide as he turned his phone screen toward you. "What?" You cross your arms over your chest, suddenly feeling insecure. "Mine."

Tags

@cindylynn @wheredafandomat @multifandom-worlds @loz-3 @megharat-barnes-reid @kats72 @crimson25 @mochie85 @cakesandtom @lokidokieokie @theallknown213 @alexakeyloveloki @tmilover1993 @yeaiamme2 @pigeonmama @yeehawbrothers @lokischambermaid @fictive-sl0th @nomajdetective @goblingirlsarah @foxherder @weirdothatwritess @silver-tongue-taken-to-bed @freegardenbanananeck @lamentis-10 @jainaeatsstars @queenshu @justsebstan @kcd15

[michelleleewise]

Hi 👋. I've been loving your AI Loki art and have an idea/request.

I've had this vision of like a punk-rock Drummer!Loki covered in tattoos. Kinda like Travis Barker meets Loki (but with Loki's long curls and stuff).

If this is something that you'd be interested in making, I think you'd create an amazing image!💚

Heeeeyyyy!!!! Thank you so much!!!! I did my very best with this.....the tattoo are hard to place exactly where you want them, but......I got a few different ones 😁😁😁

Aaaaaanndddd......

[munson-blurbs]

Living After Midnight (Failed Rockstar!Eddie x Motel Worker!Reader)

♫ Summary: Being a perpetual people-pleaser meant that you were constantly putting others before yourself--particularly your parents and the eccentric guests who stayed at their motel. But when a surly and mysterious musician checked in indefinitely, he flipped your whole world on its head. (3.1k words)

♫ CW: slowburn, strangers-to-lovers, angst, drug use, parental conflict, poverty, eventual smut (18+ only, minors DNI)

♫ A/N: Thank you to my numerous beta readers, including but not limited to @the-unforgivenn, @lofaewrites, @lokis-army-77, and @corroded-hellfire, and to @hellfire--cult for the divider. I am forever indebted to y'all.

chapter one: room for one more

It was always the quiet nights, wasn't it? The ones where the only sounds came from cars barreling down Queens Boulevard and splashing through puddles left by an earlier rainstorm, or from the clock ticking on the wall. 

The ones where your mind wandered until you’d thought yourself in circles, overanalyzing every last decision you had ever made.

The ones where you allowed your guard just down enough that the slightest oddity threw you off-balance—something or someone out of place. 

It was during the quiet nights like that night where you should have expected the unexpected, because New York City never stayed still for long. 

The evening’s sluggishness was normal; tourism always slowed in the springtime. The newest shows on Broadway were already months old, not to mention the warmer weather brought both an uptick in crime and pollen count. If out-of-towners were going to schlep to the East Coast, they’d prefer to see the cherry blossoms hours south in Washington, DC than to get mugged on the 1 train. 

Business picked up in the winter months when people flocked from around the world to witness the Thanksgiving Day Parade, the Rockefeller Center Christmas tree, or Dick Clark’s Rockin’ New Year’s Eve, even though they were several bus and subway transfers away. Outsiders to the tri-state area struggled to differentiate between boroughs; it was unfortunate for them, but you counted on it to keep business alive. 

The only guests who consistently frequented your family’s motel were junkies looking for a place to shoot up away from the NYPD’s watchful gaze or affair-havers who were considerate enough not to sully their marriage beds—just their vows. You were in no position to judge; their money was what kept the lights on, but it was impossible not to compare your clientele to the suits who stayed at the Marriott down the street. They wouldn‘t even allow homeless folks to sit within twenty-five feet of the building, let alone stay under their roof.

You leaned on the desk, wood grain pinching your elbows. You tapped your pencil against your textbook as you read, its margins cluttered with notes about different types of parent-child attachment styles. 

Sleep prickled at the corners of your eyes, blurring the words on the page in front of you. Focus. 

Secure attachment occurs when—no, you’d already read this line. Twice. 

“Dammit,” you muttered under your breath, gently slapping your cheeks in a futile attempt to stay awake. Taking a full course load instead of your usual part-time was your academic advisor’s ill-conceived idea, bolstered by the prospect of an earlier graduation. In your haste, you’d neglected to consider two important factors: all of your studying now had to be done during your night shifts, and graduating meant telling your parents a truth they were unready to hear. 

They were so proud of the motel, regardless of its reputation. It might as well have been The Plaza from the way your dad boasted about it. The three of you shared an unspoken understanding that you worked the front desk because paying an actual employee would put them under. Maybe if finances weren’t so tight, you could have freely admitted that your future plans didn’t involve taking over the business. 

Your eyelids fluttered shut as your head rested on your book, a small puddle of drool pooling atop Bowlby’s theories. 

Ping ping ping ping!

Time slowly stretched out before you, your conscious brain clawing its way out of its hazy fog. It took a beat for you to recognize that the incessant noise came from someone repeatedly smacking the tiny bell that sat on the desk. 

“Hey, hello?” an impatient voice called out, jolting you from your impromptu nap. You blinked away the residual sleepiness and took in the sight in front of you: a curly-haired man, likely not much older than you were, a cigarette that had been nearly smoked down to the filter tucked between his lips. He had a patched guitar case strapped to his back and clutched a black garbage bag filled with what you hoped was clothing.

“Sorry,” you grumbled, wiping the moisture from your chin. “Need a room?” 

“Mhm.” You could practically hear his eye roll: no, I just stopped by in the middle of the night for a quick chat. Fancy a cup of tea and a scone? 

He plopped the garbage bag on the ground; its soft landing and the way it wrinkled told you that whatever was inside was, thankfully, not a body.

You nodded and turned around to the wall of keys behind you. There was no shortage of rooms; the only occupied one was being rented by Phyllis, a sixty-year-old self-described ‘entertainer of gentleman’ who paid double her bill in exchange for your silence. 

He stubbed out the cigarette in the ashtray on the countertop, grinding it into the base for good measure. “How much per night?” he asked, digging into his pants pocket and pulling out a wallet held together with duct tape. 

“Fifteen.”

The man breathed out, his bangs fanning over his forehead. “Jesus.” He fished two twenties and a five from the billfold and placed them in front of you. “This should cover me until Friday, yeah?”

Nodding, you folded the bills and tucked them into the register kept under the desk, only accessible by key because of a series of break-ins during the late ‘70s.

The man lit another cigarette as you pulled out the ledger and a pen. “Name and date here,” you said, pointing to the ‘check in’ column. He took a drag before scrawling his name on the line: Eddie Munson, 5-4-93. 

“All right, you’ll be in…” you scanned the assortment of keys dangling from their hooks. The walls were thin, and this guy seemed decent enough, so you decided to spare him the theatrical sound effects of Phyllis’s room 10 endeavors. “…room 4. Make a right down the hallway, and it’ll be the second door. Can’t miss it if you try.” 

Your attempt at humor fell flat, both of you too exhausted to laugh. You strode past it, clearing your throat as if dispelling the tension. When you placed the key in his calloused palm, you couldn’t help but notice that the base of each fingertip is a half-shade paler than the rest of his skin. 

“Thanks.” Eddie mumbled. He tapped the cigarette above the ashtray, the gray flakes falling into a neat pile. His right bicep flexed underneath his denim jacket as he heaved the garbage bag over his shoulder, careful not to bang it against the guitar. 

He scuttled out of the tiny room masquerading as a lobby, shoulders hunched from the weight of the bag and of the burdens he inevitably carried. No one shows up to a motel in the middle of the night without a story or two. 

After years of greeting guests at the front desk, you liked to think you had a decent read on them. Eddie was quiet, maybe even introspective, but not necessarily shy. He was tired; no, more than that: he was worn down, like so many other people who had come through these doors. 

Most importantly, Eddie didn’t seem like he'd be much trouble. He didn’t stumble in wasted and reeking of booze or fidgeting as he awaited a fix. He wasn’t shouting or poorly concealing a wandering eye or making lewd comments. He’d made pretty much no impression at all besides being a bit gruff, which was just fine with you. Your personality wasn't composed of rainbows and sunshine at this hour either.

You looked at the clock and sighed when it only read 2:17. It’s already tomorrow, you thought grimly. Just under four hours until you could walk ten feet to your room, curl up in your bed, and sleep until it was time for your afternoon class. After years of balancing school and work, you were in the last two weeks of your final semester, and then…what? You casually inform your parents that you were leaving the family business–essentially forcing them to close it–to pursue a career in social work? 

That was sure to go over well.  

To their knowledge, you were studying hotel management and hospitality in order to “improve the business.” That was why they’d relented when you’d asked to start taking classes, switching you over to the night shift to avoid having to hire a new employee.

What they didn’t know is that your school didn’t even offer that as a major. Nor were they aware of the acceptance letter into NYU’s Masters of Social Work program that was stashed inside your dresser drawer, hidden from sight. That was a conversation for another day when you found the strength to face their disappointment.

Chaos waited to strike until the end of your shift. 

Just as you packed your book back into your bag, a familiar, skunky odor wafted past your nostrils. 

Ignore it, you thought. Let it be Dad’s problem when he takes over in five minutes. But if you could smell it, so could any of the cops patrolling the boulevard. One more citation and the motel was in jeopardy of being permanently shut down, and you couldn’t take that risk.

With a frustrated sigh, you yanked open the desk drawer and reached in for a pen, instead pulling out an unopened box of crayons. A twenty-four pack of Crayola—the good kind. You plucked a waxy cornflower blue from its spot and scribbled Be back soon on a Post-It note, sticking it on the front of the desk. Grabbing the pepper spray canister from its spot next to the register, just in case, you started down the hall. Marijuana wasn’t Phyllis’s drug of choice, though it might have been one of her various gentleman suitors’, but the scent was too strong to be coming all the way from room 10.

Maybe this Eddie Munson was trouble, afterall.

You knocked on his door, firmly but without aggression. It certainly wasn’t the first time you interrupted someone’s buzz, and it wouldn’t be the last. You knew better than to go in guns a-blazing; it’s easier to catch flies with sugar than vinegar. 

Eddie opened it after a moment, cracking it halfway and revealing a lit joint pinched between his plush lips. One forearm was perched on the doorframe, showing off faded ink of a litter of flying bats and a dragon-esque creature. He was clad in only navy blue boxer briefs, but his lack of attire was no surprise. Many guests were shameless, not bothering to cover the holes in their Fruit of the Loom tighty-whities and showcasing faded yellow stains on the crotch. What confused you was the elastic waistband proudly proclaiming ‘Calvin Klein’ that cut off the soft hair trailing from his belly button. It seemed absurd that he would have been lugging around any designer clothes in that trash bag, but there was no other possibility. 

“Can I help you?” he asked, shaking his curly bangs out of his face. Half-lidded brown eyes scanned your form, trying to determine whether you were a narc or trying to bum some bud off of him. His window was cracked open enough to let in fresh air, which also meant that the acrid smell could easily be let out.

“You can’t smoke that here,” you reported matter-of-factly, just as you had a million times before. When he cocked a challenging brow, you continued. “Cigarettes are fine, but no weed. The police will come after us and you.”

He looked around the room, unbothered, and absentmindedly scratched at his bare chest. A demon’s head was sketched just above a sparse patch of hair. Under different circumstances, or maybe in another life altogether, you would’ve asked him about his tattoos; if they had some philosophical meaning or were the products of spur-of-the-moment decisions. You could have blathered on about the ideas you had for your own future tattoos, if you ever worked up the nerve to actually get one. 

“You mean to tell me that with all of the skeevy shit that goes on around here, the cops are gonna waste their time on a little pot?” He scoffed and took another defiant pull, holding it for a few seconds before exhaling away from you.

I guess chivalry isn’t dead, you mused, stifling an eye roll. “No, but they’re always looking for an excuse to ‘investigate,’’' you threw air-quotes around the last word, “so they can bust us for more serious things, and that is the perfect one.” You gestured to the joint only to be met with an eye roll. “Look, you can either put it out, smoke it somewhere else, or you can leave. Full refund, but you can’t stay here.”

His stare locked onto your steely eyes and clenched jaw, only breaking when you’d straightened your posture to stand your ground. “Whatever,” he huffed, but he snuffed it out. A glimmer of a smile danced on his lips, disappearing nearly as quickly as it arrived. Despite its fleeting nature, it managed to thaw you enough so that your arms weren’t held quite so tight to your body, your expression less rigid. “Just trying to relax and get some sleep, like you were while you were supposed to be ‘working.’” It’s his turn to supply the air-quotes, both in mockery and as a gotcha. A teasing lilt elevated his voice, smoothing out the edge he’d greeted you with earlier. 

“I wasn’t sleeping, just…resting my eyes,” you volleyed back, your smirk betraying any semblance of the tough façade you’d worn. 

Eddie crossed his arms and walked over to the garbage bag of clothes. He rummaged through it for a moment before procuring a pair of gray sweatpants, stepping into them hurriedly as though he just remembered his minimal attire. 

“Maybe if you chose more interesting reading material, you wouldn’t be sl—resting your eyes on the job,” he amended, gesturing to the textbook in your canvas tote bag. “Ever heard of Stephen King?”

“I live in a motel, not under a rock.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You live here?”

Shit. That wasn’t information you regularly divulged. Sure, this guy seemed harmless, but looks can be deceiving. Prime example: wearing designer underwear while using a trash bag in lieu of a suitcase. 

It was too late to double back, so you nodded. “Yeah,” you admitted reluctantly. The sole of your sneaker dug into the old carpet. 

Eddie looked like he wanted to say more, lips parted and eyes wide like there was a follow-up question sitting on the tip of his tongue. Before he could ask it, your gaze landed on the clock radio: six AM on the dot. 

“I need to go,” you said hurriedly. Shame at your sudden shyness burned a hole in your belly. Eddie Munson was a guest; for all intents and purposes, he was a total stranger. There was no reason to be intimidated by him. “Good luck falling asleep,” you added with a weak smile. 

The easy banter that had been building between you dissipated in an instant, taking his good mood with it. His goodbye was a sardonic salute, the mattress springs creaking wearily as soon as you closed the door behind you. 

Sure enough, your dad was in the tiny lobby, assessing some peeling wallpaper. “Gotta fix that,” he mumbled to himself, thumbnail picking at it aimlessly. He turned around when he heard the door open and smiled when he saw you. 

“Sorry, I was helping out a guest,” you rushed to explain, hoping he wasn't too anxious to find the desk left unattended. 

The wrinkles in your dad’s forehead became more pronounced. “Is everything alright?” The phrase ‘helping out a guest’ could range from unclogging a toilet to calling the police for a domestic dispute. 

“Yeah, everything’s fine,” you reassured him quickly, flashing an exaggerated thumbs-up. “No law enforcement necessary. Didn’t even need to use the pepper spray.” You waved the canister in your palm before placing it back. 

He beamed, leaning in and pressing a kiss to your scalp. “It’s times like this where I just know I’ll be leaving this place in good hands.” 

You swallowed the bile that crept up your throat and feigned a smile when  he pulled you in for a tight hug. The mingled scents of Irish Spring soap and drugstore aftershave tickled your nose, and tears stung along your lash line. 

If only you knew, you thought, giving him one last squeeze before you headed to your room. Disappointed wouldn’t even begin to cover it. 

Your parents would never say the word aloud; they’d look at each other and heave identical weighted sighs. Their lifelong goal of a long-standing family business would vanish in the blink of an eye. Dad would pretend there was a chance that they could afford a new hire, even going so far as to fumble through the years of financial statements before inevitably throwing in the towel; Mom would force a pained smile and hoarsely encourage you to follow your dreams, even at the expense of theirs.

You shook the thought away as you trudged towards your room, sneakered feet like sandbags below you.  Dwelling on this scenario had you teetering on the brink of insanity, so you’d willed yourself to focus on something else. Anything else.

Like the motel’s newest guest and his smile. The way it softened the hard lines on his face, offering you a glimpse of how he wore happiness. Something about it made you want to see him happy again. 

You can’t even figure out how to make yourself happy, you thought, peeling back the starchy sheets and finally crawling into bed, much less a stranger. For all you knew, he was just relaxed because his high was starting to kick in, and not from some warming presence you’d supplied. 

The sun cracked pink through the sky, visible through the paper-thin curtains hanging on the window. You had become accustomed to this backwards routine, able to fall asleep while daylight broke. It took a few extra moments this time; you were anticipating marijuana-tinged fumes to float through the vents when Eddie ignored your instructions. 

It was that flicker of a smile that had you almost certain he would spark up once you’d left. The smile of someone who so naturally flouted authority that he no longer bragged about it. Yet time ticked by without a hint of evidence that he was smoking again. 

Which begged the question: if the smile didn’t signify defiance, what did it mean?

Eddie Munson is definitely trouble, you surmised just before you drifted off, but nothing you can’t handle.

--

taglist:

@theintimatewriter @mandyjo8719 @storiesbyrhi @lady-munson @moonmark98 @squidscottjeans @therealbaberuthless @emxxblog @chrissymjstan @loves0phelia @kthomps914 @aysheashea @reidsbtch @mmunson86 @b-irock @ginasellsbooks @erinekc @the-unforgivenn @dashingdeb16 @micheledawn1975 @yujyujj @eddies-acousticguitar @daisy-munson @kellsck @bewitchedmunson @foreveranexpatsposts @mykuup @chatteringfox @feelinglikeineedlotsofnaps @sapphire4082 @katethetank @sidthedollface2 @eddies-stinky-battle-jacket @mysteris-things @mrsjellymunson @josephquinnsfreckles @the-disaster-in-waiting @eddielowe @hugdealer @rip-quizilla @munson-girl @fishwithtitz @costellation-hunter @cloudroomblog @emsgoodthinkin

[jiyascepter]

───── May

So I decided that I should be making my monthly reading lists to promote some fellow writers even more, even if one person reads a fic from here it would change something, wouldn't it?

(idk if tumblr would let me tag so many writers at once, but the links to fics work so pls check out their profiles too!)

And also if I ever want to reread them it would be easier to find 👀 I'll try my best to make these lists every month ✨️

So here are some lovely fanfics I've read this month, please make sure to give them some love by commenting or reblogging, it means a lot to us writers 🤍

Fluff: 🥰 | Angst: 💔 | Hurt/Comfort: ❤️‍🩹 | Smut: 🔥 | Dark: 🖤 | Humor: ���

@ijuststareatstuffhereok89

Loki's Island Fever [Avengers!Loki x reader] | ongoing 🔥😆

@vbecker10

Talk to Me [Loki x f!reader] Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 is wip | ❤️‍🩹🥰

@lokischambermaid

From The Horny Misadventures of Nomad Steve:

Disciplinary Action [Nomad!Steve Rogers x Agent!reader] 🔥

Positive Reinforcement [Nomad!Steve Rogers x Agent!reader] 🔥😆

@lokisgoodgirl

Distractions [Loki x f!reader] 🔥

Like a Queen [Loki x f!reader] 🔥

Also check out her upcoming series : The Rite

@buckys-wintersoldier

His name, his property [Dark!Steve Kemp x f!reader] 🖤🔥

Glazed (donut) Holes [Boyfriend!Bucky Barnes x girlfriend!reader] 🔥

Teasing [Dom Bf!Bucky x Sub gf!reader] 🔥

Little Perv co-written with @lanabuckybarnes [Stepbrother!Bucky Barnes x Stepsister!Reader x BestFriend!Steve Rogers] 🔥

Bucky Offers You a Better Job [CEO!Bucky x Assistant f!reader] 🔥

Domination [SoftDom!Bucky x Sub!reader] 🔥

How Love Works [Ransom Drysdale x reader] 🥰

@foxherder

Loki imagine (based off The Avengers) [Loki x reader] 🥰

@vbecker10

Help you bear it [Loki x f!reader] ❤️‍🩹

You Can't Hurt Me [Loki x f!reader] ❤️‍🩹

What Prank? [Bucky x f!reader] 🥰😆

Running Into Trouble [Loki x f!reader] 🥰

Whatever It Takes [Loki x f!reader] 🥰 slight🔥

The Dress [Loki x f!reader] 🔥

Don't Forget [Loki x Disabled Female reader] 🥰❤️‍🩹

@loki-cees-all

Keeping Score [TVA!Loki x f!reader] 🔥

@sarahscribbles

Vanilla and Honeycomb [Loki x f!reader] 🔥

@bookishtheaterlover7

How Long Could We Be a Sad Song? [Chris Evans x Secret Girlfriend!Reader] 💔

@muddyorbsblr

Curiosities [Loki x f!reader] 🔥

@mischiefmaker615

Feral [Frost Giant!Loki x f!reader] 🖤🔥

@buckets-and-trees

Give Up [Alpha!Bucky x Fem Omega!reader] 🔥

@simplyholl

The Interview [Rockstar!Bucky x f!reader] 🔥

Truly Desperate [Loki x f!reader] 🔥😆

@lulubelle814

The Accident and the Misunderstanding [Tom Hiddleston x Reader] 💔🥰

@sergeantbarnessdoll

You Stayed [Steve Kemp x reader] 🥰

@buckysdarling

If You Wanna Come, Give My Brother Some [Steve x reader x Bucky] 🔥

@mrs-illyrian-baby

No Sacrifice Without Blood [Vampire!Loki x reader] 🖤🔥

@divine-knight-hand

A Show Of Temptation [Loki x f!reader] 🔥

So yeah these were all the amazing stories I read this month, make sure to give these a read ! Also if you have any fic recs please let me know ;)

[awkward-walking-potato]

Little Dove Part 1

Loki X Reader: Rockstar AU

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4  

Summary: You’re at the height of your career and you were becoming one of the best pop singer in America but what happens when your path crosses with a certain Rockstar.

Warnings - Mentions of Drugs, sex and alcohol (and really bad writing)

Y/N - your name, Y/L/N- your last names

Please leave feedback - 🥔💕

"Y/N, when is your next album dropping?! Y/N, are you seeing anyone?" The voices clamored around you as you navigated the red carpet, your smile unwavering despite the blinding camera flashes.

Your manager soon approached, ushering you toward the entrance of the award show venue, whispering the familiar set of rules: No drinking or drugs, no intimate contact, and most importantly, no talking to anyone who could twist your words into scandalous headlines.

It always felt ironic that you had to maintain the image of an innocent angel, while your manager, the so-called Grandmaster, indulged in excess by the end of every night, surrounded by women and substances, neglecting the family waiting for him at home.

As you sat down at the table, your manager predictably vanished towards the bar, two women clinging to his arms. You recalled when you first met him—he promised to make your dreams come true, transforming you from a small-time singer into a global sensation. True to his word, your debut album shot to number one, you toured the world, and industry legends clamored to work with you.

"How long do you think before she notices us?" a brunette smirked, leaning back in her seat as she observed you, lost in your thoughts.

"Excuse me." A large hand snapped fingers in front of your face, jolting you back to reality. Four people were now seated at the table, two of them watching you intently.

To your left was a massive man with shoulder-length dirty blonde hair. Despite his imposing size, his gentle smile made him seem like a giant teddy bear. To your right sat a striking woman with long brown hair, interspersed with a few braids. Her eyes conveyed confidence and strength, as if she could take down anyone in the room without breaking a sweat.

"I'm Valkyrie, this is Thor. You've been spacing out for the past hour—what were you thinking about?" Valkyrie leaned closer, a mischievous glint in her eye. "Don't worry, we don't bite. Well, Loki might if you ask nicely," she laughed, nodding towards a man with dark hair, engrossed in sucking on a red ice pop.

You had never truly understood what love felt like until you looked into his eyes. The moment felt like drowning in pools of emerald, struggling for breath but not wanting to escape.

Then he spoke, his voice a smooth, enchanting melody. "Well, aren’t you just the prettiest little dove?" Little did you know, those eight words would change your life forever.

[thevibraniumveterans]

“I think he’s had by far the most interesting life story of any MCU character, and that’s all because the craziest of the shit happened in like, the most recent month of his life.”

- Erik Voss, from NewRockstars, talking about Loki in his ‘Loki’ S2 teaser breakdown

[sleepynegress]

So, I had to sit with that, because that was beautifully plotted character and theme-wise... *yeesh!* And it's the first time a Marvel Universe god truly felt heavily grounded in that old-school mythological/poetic bedrock.

On LOKI...

Well damn. They stuck the landing.

[littlexdeaths]

happy summer freaks!

below the cut are a list of some of my favorite works that i’ve read this summer, or ones that just give me summertime vibes.

this list is very long, and i am so sorry about that! these are all stranger things fics, but majority are eddie munson x reader.

he’s my favorite i can’t help it

all credit goes to these lovely writers 💕

one-shots/blurbs:

✧ orange peel skin by @hellfire--cult

rockstar eddie munson x best friend fem reader

✧ you and eddie attend a wedding together by @strangersmunsons

eddie munson x fem reader

✧ mutual pining by @thewayitalknj

best friend eddie munson x reader (idiots in love vibes)

✧ dark & stormy by @munson-blurbs

best friend eddie x fem reader

✧ warlock by @theold-ultraviolence

eddie munson x fem reader

✧ strapped in by @strangerstilinski

robin buckley x fem reader

✧ take a dip by @eiightysixbaby

lifeguard eddie munson x best friend fem reader

✧ sweet treat by @lokis-army-77

older eddie munson x fem reader

✧ start something by @mrsjellymunson

dm eddie munson x fem reader

✧ make me by @xxbimbobunnyxx

older diner owner eddie munson x fem reader

✧ arcade shenanigans by @lovebugism

eddie munson x reader (enemies to lovers vibes)

✧ body to flame by @stevenose

steve harrington x reader

✧ sundress lovin’ by @madelynraemunson

ex husband eddie munson x fem reader

✧ too close by @doomsdaybby

steve harrington x fem reader

✧ stop, in the name of love by @oneforthemunny

cop eddie munson x fem reader

✧ the pearl rosary by @fairyysoup

eddie munson x pastors daughter reader

✧ sweet girl by @thecreelhouse

steve harrington x reader

✧ you okay, honey? by @hawkinstales

eddie munson x fem reader

series:

✧ one step away from you by @eddiexmunsonlover

best friend eddie munson x plus size fem reader

✧ the do’s and don’ts of fake dating by @joequiinn

eddie munson x fem reader

✧ twenty four hours by @ghost-proofbaby

modern eddie munson x fem reader

✧ living after midnight by @munson-blurbs

failed rockstar eddie munson x motel worker reader

✧ too much in common by @munsonhoneybaby

eddie munson x henderson fem reader

✧ the more you give by @manicpixiedreamcurl

eddie munson x shy reader

✧ the third date by @rebelfell

eddie munson x anorgasmic reader

✧ cruel summer - ‘85 by @queenimmadolla

eddie munson x lifeguard (flayed) reader

✧ i knew you’d linger like a tattoo kiss by @andvys

steve harrington x fem reader x eddie munson

✧ boring! by @undead-supernova

eddie munson x confident fem reader

✧ i hate you, i love you by @loserboysandlithium

ex boyfriend eddie munson x fem reader

✧ show me by @eddiesxangel

older neighbor eddie munson x virgin reader

✧ not wholly evil by @uglypastels

pirate eddie munson x fem reader