#but i think the real reason there's never going to be a band like them again is the unknownable results they achieved

[seaofreverie]

The Me who bought tickets to see TMBG in february 2023 and the Me who's going to actually go to the show next month are two completely different people

[littlecornerinbrooklyn]

yoongi/suga/agust d seems to be having so much fun recently and like is out here truly living his best life!

loved basketball so much he created a stage name out of his position: now an NBA ambassador which seems to amount to "sit courtside and be pretty and take pictures with your faves and here's some custom jerseys"

wanted to talk to some of his favorite people from different walks of entertainment/provide a space for younger idols to come ask questions from him: has a fun talk show where he feeds them and they bring booze and everyone has a great 'ol time and then goes and talks about how sincere he is online afterward and how it was their favorite interview ever

loves touring, pushed the band from early EARLY on to tour because he knew there was no replacement for experience: is now doing a wildly successful solo tour with a setlist spanning his three solo endeavors & rap line parts that fans never thought would be performed live again and seems to be having a ton of fun with the audience interactions & his live band who all very clearly adore him

like, no celebrity is unimpeachably good and I'm not saying any of this to pedestal him but I just find the decisions and follow-through of his mentioned goals to be genuinely inspiring and fascinating to watch and I think I just rarely find models of people actually seeing the thing they want to improve and then figuring out how their actions can help. when bts first came to America there was no one to ask for guidance, and now he's just constantly telling gen4 idols to ask him literally anything and giving really gentle advice re: authenticity and appreciating & connecting with fans and it just makes me happy. and hopeful!

[bootleg-nessie]

Rating band names based on their accuracy:

(I keep updating this list so check back later)

The Beatles: 3/10. None of these people are beetles, they’re just a bunch of fruity guys from Liverpool with matching haircuts

(Edit: changed from 0/10 to 3/10 because John Lennon beat his wife)

Pink Floyd: 4/10. There is not a single person named Floyd in the band, but some of the members do arguably look kinda pink

Nirvana: 10/10. Getting high and listening to Nirvana is roughly what I imagine actual nirvana to be like

Foo Fighters: either 0/10 or 10/10. I have never seen foo in real life so either they’re pretending to fight a problem that doesn’t exist or they’re doing an absolutely fantastic job of fighting it

The Eagles: 0/10. Same as the Beatles, there is not a single eagle in this band. The name is misleading and we have all been lied to

Queen: 6/10. Partial points for Freddie Mercury

Led Zeppelin: 0/10. I don’t think any of these guys have ever even seen a zeppelin, let alone one made of lead. A lead balloon would crash faster than my hopes and dreams

The Rolling Stones: 3/10. There is not a single stone in this band. Some points added because I’m pretty sure they rolled quite a few

U2: 0/10. Despite what the name says, I am not a member of this band

Metallica: 9/10. Naming a metal band “Metallica” is like naming your dog “doggy”

Red Hot Chili Peppers: 2/10. These guys are not chili peppers. They’re not even that hot, let alone red hot

Guns N’ Roses: 0/10. How the fuck could a gun or a flower play music

Backstreet Boys: ?/10. Depends entirely on their current given location

Simon and Garfunkel: 10/10. No notes

The Doors: 1/10. Jim Morrison is kinda shaped like a door tho

Chicago: 4/10. The number of people in this band does not come even remotely close to the population of Chicago. Points added because it originated in Chicago

Earth, wind, and fire: 2/10. This is even more innacurate than Chicago. Points added because wind instruments were often used

Def Leppard: 3/10. There is not a single leopard in this band. Some of the members are probably kinda deaf by now tho

The Beach Boys: ?/10. Accuracy depends entirely on location

The Black Eyed Peas: 6/10. Not sure what the hell an ‘eyed pea’ is but the black part is pretty accurate

Imagine Dragons: ?/10. Depends entirely on whether or not they’re thinking about dragons.

Cage the Elephant: 1/10. Why would you do that. Let the elephant go

Green Day: 0/10. They’re not even green

The Police: 0/10. There is not a single cop in this band

KISS: 5/10. I’m sure they probably kissed sometimes

The Monkees: 0/10. Are you fucking kidding me

We Butter the Bread with Butter: 8/10. I can’t verify this but I have no reason to suspect that they’d lie. Butter seems like the most logical thing to butter bread with

King Gizzard and the Lizard Wizard: 0/10. I got really excited about the concept of a lizard wizard only to be let down. My disappointment is immeasurable

They Might Be Giants: 5/10. I googled everyone in this band’s height, the tallest guy’s only 6’1 so I wouldn’t exactly consider him a giant. Then again, I can’t really argue because the claim was only that they MIGHT be giants

The Presidents of the United States of America: 2/10. None of these people are Joe Biden nor are any of them former presidents. This is incredibly misleading. I’m pretty sure “Lump” was written about my first girlfriend tho so I’ll give them a point or two

Gorillaz: 2/10 Not quite but we’re kinda close genetically so I’ll give them partial credit

The Killers: ?/10. I have no way of verifying if they’ve actually killed before but the fact that they’re not in prison tells me probably not

The Offspring: 10/10. These guys are definitely somebody’s offspring

Arctic Monkeys: 1/10. They are neither monkeys nor are they from the arctic

Thirty Seconds to Mars: 1/10. It takes WAY longer to get to mars than that

Beastie Boys: 8/10. They’re pretty beast on the guitar

Jimmy Eat World: 1/10. Slow the fuck down Jimmy, you’re biting off way more than you can chew

Hole: 9/10. One point deducted because I’m pretty sure they had more than one hole

Rage Against the Machine: 10/10. They did exactly that

Alice In Chains: 0/10. This is illegal. Let Alice go

The Band: 10/10. This could not possibly be more accurate

Nine Inch Nails: 1/10. I can’t find any good pictures of their feet but from what I can tell their fingernails definitely aren’t nine inches long

Bush: ?/10. Not quite sure about this one, felt uncomfortable asking

The Who: 2/10. I’m not dealing with this “Who’s On First” bullshit

Radiohead: 0/10. Not a single person in this band has a radio for a head

Queens of the Stone Age: 0/10. This band should be called “five random dudes from the modern era” but FRDFTMA is a bit of a mouthful

Soundgarden: 2/10. Sound does not grow in the garden

Sonic Youth: 5/10. They’re not exactly youth anymore but the sonic part checks out

Talking heads: 8/10. There’s more to the band than just a bunch of disembodied heads but the heads do tend to talk

The Cranberries: 0/10. Decent music but I only added them so that the Beatles and Freddie Mercury weren’t the only fruits on this list

The Wiggles: 8/10. They do tend to wiggle a lot

Blue Man Group: 10/10. Yep!

Weezer: 5/10. They all look like they definitely have asthma

Limp Bizkit: 3/10. While the visual image of baked goods playing the guitar is hilarious, Fred durst is not a biscuit. Points added because he probably has erectile dysfunction

Stone Temple Pilots: 0/10. None of these people are accredited as being licensed to pilot anything, much less an entire stone temple. Stone temples don’t need pilots anyways

Wasted Youth: 8/10. I guess it really kinda depends on how you frame it but yeah, they probably wasted a lot of it

Them Crooked Vultures: 3/10. These are people and not birds but Dave Grohl’s posture is kinda bad and John Paul Jones is so old that his neck kinda looks like a vulture’s so I added some points

Audioslave: 0/10. Slavery is illegal

Traveling Wilburys: 4/10. Sure, they traveled a lot but not a single one of those lying bastards was named Wilbury

D12: 6/12. There were only 6 people in this band

NWA: 10/10. I’m a little too white to safely comment on this one but I’d say they nailed it

Jet: 1/10. A real jet would be way too loud

Goldfinger: 0/10. Not a single person in this band has a finger made out of gold

No Doubt: ?/10. I can’t really be too sure how Gwen Stefani felt but I think it’s probably a safe assumption that she had some doubts

The White Stripes: 3/10. I bet if you stripped them down naked and made them stand shoulder to shoulder and squinted really hard they’d probably look more like white stripes

Screaming trees: 3/10. They scream occasionally

Garbage: 2/10. I think they’re being a little harsh on themselves, their music isn’t THAT bad

Butthole Surfers: 5/10. Not even gonna touch this one

Megadeth: 3/10. To be fair, some of the former members are dead but only a little amount of death, not mega death

Dead Kennedys: 2/10. Last I checked Kennedy was still dead but neither he nor his clones are members of this band

Cake: 0/10. The cake is a lie

Cracker: 8/10. Most of them are

Tool: 7/10. I don’t know much about their music but they sure look like tools

Counting Crows: ?/10. Is this what emo kids do instead of counting sheep? Accuracy depends on whatever bird they happen to be counting at the moment

Dave Matthews Band: 10/10. It certainly is

Oasis: 1/10. Their music is the opposite of an oasis

Blur: 2/10. They are not that fast

Barenaked Ladies: 0/10. If I wanted to be this disappointed I’d reestablish a connection with my biological father instead

Meat Puppets: 10/10. Technically, aren’t we all?

Live: 8/10. Apparently they still do live shows but I deducted some points because I’ve only ever heard their music on Spotify

ABBA: 9/10. I’m still not giving any points to Guns N’ Roses but that’s mostly out of spite

5 Finger Death Punch: 8/10 I guess it probably depends on how hard you hit them but this seems to be the usual amount of fingers to punch somebody with

All American Rejects: 9/10. They’re all rejects from America so I don’t really see any issue with this

T. Rex: 0/10. Even if any of these people WAS a T. Rex I don’t think their arms would be long enough to play their instruments

Free: 0/10. Unless you steal their music, in which case it becomes a 10/10

The Strokes: 3/10. To my knowledge, none of them have had a stroke but I still added a few points because the name was probably accurate for other reasons

The Smashing Pumpkins ?/10. Another thing I have no way of verifying but this seems like a waste of perfectly good pumpkins

Therapy?: ?/10. The hell are they asking me for? I don’t know their medical history

Twenty One Pilots. 0/10. There’s only two of them and neither is a licensed pilot

Finger Eleven: 0/10. Leave the poor Stranger Things girl out of this

Fall Out Boy: 9/10. I conferred with an expert on this one who confirmed that they are in fact boys who had a falling out

Cream: 8/10. Considering this was the OG supergroup I’m sure a lot of people did in fact cream when their music came out

Edit: humans aren’t fucking monkeys. Stop saying we are

[elliewithcellie]

Girl, Interrupted

summary: Eddie crashes by your home when you least expected, but everything happens for a reason, right?

wc: 1.8k

cw: PURE SMUT (MDNI 18+), basically no plot, friends to fwb?, oral (f receiving), Eddie is a tease, fairly bold reader lol, fingering, talk of p in v sex, hair pulling, orgasms idk let me know what else

a/n: my bestie bought me slutty pajamas for my birthday, and since I'm a hypothetical whore, this has been on my mind nonstop. Finally took a break from my spn series to write this down. This is the filthiest thing I've written to date but definitely short and sweet

Eddie’s jaw fell slack as the door opened before him. He knew he shouldn’t have shown up to your place uninvited. Sure, you were his best friend, and of course, you had said he could come over whenever, but that never truly meant unannounced. He was already kicking himself for showing up as late as he did when you opened the door.

Your oh so short pajama shorts were the first thing that caught his eye, how your thighs spilled out beneath them, the cotton begging for relief. His eyes trailed higher to your tank top one size too small. The hem rested just above your midriff, the outline of your hips more prominent than he had ever seen. Your face was flush, pinks and reds lining your cheeks. He fought the urge to pinch himself, scared that he was dreaming, scared that he’d wake up to the absence of you and very real feelings emerging.

“Eddie? What are you doing here?” you asked, your arms crossing over your chest. “I thought you had a date.”

Date, what date? Eddie’s mind was going numb. His brain was flatlining at the mere sight of you, more exposed to him than he’d ever seen you. Fight or flight kicked in, debating on whether to say something or just turn around and leave. He was almost sure he was not supposed to see you in this state.

“I—uhh—it didn’t go well, so I cut it short. But I know you love the place, so I figured I’d bring over the leftovers.”

“Oh, sweet. Thank you.”

Eddie hesitated, scared to ask, but his interest piqued. “Is someone—you’re alone right now, right?”

Your eyebrows pinched together. You exhaled a dry laugh. “Please, I’m always alone. Come in. Tell me about your date.”

You ushered Eddie inside and settled into your couch. You pulled a blanket over you, and Eddie released a sigh. He couldn’t believe the hold you suddenly had on him. It was like he was in high school again, ready to combust at the sight of a shoulder. At least with your legs covered, he was less inclined to think about spreading them.

“Was it really that bad?” you asked, drawing Eddie from his thoughts.

“She was just so boring,” Eddie complained. “Like, there’s nothing wrong with her, but it was like we were from different planets! She didn’t know Metallica! How am I supposed to bond with someone when there’s nothing to relate to?”

“Did you think of showing her?”

“Showing her what?”

“Metallica!” you laughed. “Wouldn’t that be kind of romantic, you know, to introduce that to her? Maybe tell her you’re in a band? It’d be like showing her a whole new world. And maybe you’d get a groupie out of it.”

Eddie swatted at the air. “It’s not worth it. We were both bored. And it was clear she wasn’t looking to rock with a guitarist.”

“Oh, I highly doubt that.”

“You didn’t meet her. She’s pristine, a Chrissy Cunningham type. Meant to be with a lawyer or some shit.”

You leaned in closer to Eddie, your blanket sliding down your thighs. “Those are the girls who fantasize about guys like you the most. Those girls on the straight and narrow, the ones who seemed destined to be sweet stay-at-home moms or perfect career women, those are the ones who dream of just one night doing something they never thought they could. Something so wild that when they’re taking their kids to soccer practice, or their ‘perfect husband’ is asleep on the recliner while they're doing the dishes, they can think back to that wild night when they fucked a rockstar.”

Eddie’s lip trembled as chills coursed through his body. You leaned back against the couch and shrugged like what you said was nothing. You had to be on something, he decided. Never had you been so frank when the topic of sex came up. Your face was still flushed with color, and you couldn’t seem to find a comfortable position on the couch, shifting yourself from one side to the other to no specific rhythm. Heat radiated off of you, though you weren’t known to be the furnace between the two of you. Something struck Eddie as so foreign but so familiar as he took you in.

“Would you fuck a rockstar?” Eddie found himself saying.

Heat rose to your cheeks. “Do I seem like one of those straight-and-narrow girls to you?”

“That’s not what I asked,” Eddie said, a newfound confidence overtaking him. “You came up with that way too fast to act like you don’t think of it, too. So, would you fuck a rockstar?”

You bit your lip and shifted in your seat. You huffed into the couch. “Wouldn’t anyone?”

“Why so shy all of a sudden?” Eddie asked, egging you on. “You’ve been squirming since I got here, sweetheart. Is something on your mind?”

Your eyes trailed from his eyes to his lips, then back to his eyes. “Tonight is not the night to ask me that.”

“Why is that?” Eddie chuckled. “Were you in the middle of something? Was something left unfinished when I so rudely interrupted? And now all you can think about is the ache between your legs?”

You shuddered at his words. “Eddie,” you said, your voice shaking.

“I could help you.” Eddie leaned closer, his words almost a whisper. “Because I may not be a rockstar, but I’m sure I could give you the night of your life.”

Your breath hitched in your throat. “Don’t tease me. It’s not funny.”

“No one’s laughing.” Eddie pulled the blanket back, his hands resting on your thighs. Your legs slightly opened on instinct. “What kind of friend would I be, huh? If I didn’t at least offer?”

Eddie didn’t know where this bravado came from, but he didn’t care. All he knew was the longer you looked at him like that, the harder he got.

You grabbed him by his shirt and forced his lips on yours. Nothing soft or sweet came from your lips. You were needy and desperate, clinging to him like he was the air in your lungs.

The urgency shocked Eddie, but he quickly found your rhythm. He smirked against your lips as he pulled his jacket off. His hands snaked from your thighs to your hips to your ass, lifting you onto his lap. You groaned into his mouth as he rolled you against him.

He was sure he was dreaming now. Only there did he ever picture you above him, grinding your hips into his. Only there did he imagine you moaning from his touch. But never were his dreams this vivid, this real, this fucking good.

He pulled you from him and pushed you back onto the couch. You whined at the loss of contact. He’d never seen your eyes so dark, so lustful, so hungry for him.

He slid down to the floor onto his knees and pulled you to the edge of the couch. “You still want my help, sweetheart?”

You nodded emphatically.

“I need to hear you, baby. Say it.”

“Please help me, Eddie. I need you. Please.”

“Atta girl.”

You lifted yourself up as Eddie pulled your shorts down your legs. Eddie’s cock jumped at the sight of you. He bit his lip to maintain what little composure he had left.

“Aww, your poor little pussy’s just as needy as you, isn’t she?” He spread your knees apart, the cold metal on his fingers sending chills up your spine. The throbbing between your legs only intensified, a small whimper escaping your lips.

Eddie couldn’t wait any longer. There was no time for teasing, no time to explore. You needed him, and he was going to deliver.

He dove into your aching pussy like a man starved. You jumped at the contact, your hands flying to his hair. His tongue worked overtime, kitten-licking your clit before diving in for more.

“You taste so good, sweetheart,” he said, smiling against you. You moaned in response, grabbing a fistful of his hair and pulling him closer.

Your sounds turned him on even more, searching for his own release as he rubbed himself against the couch. His mind was in a daze, in utter disbelief that anyone could look so perfect for him with your legs spread and your back arched. Your chest rose and fell to the rhythm of his tongue, and your lips formed a perfect ‘o’. Oh, how Eddie wanted to feel your lips around his cock. How you’d sink down on him, your perfect innocent mouth being completely sinful just for him.

He placed a finger at your entrance and pumped in and out, his thumb now circling your clit. Your head fell back. “God, yes, Eddie. Just like that.”

“I need you to do something for me, baby,” Eddie said as he added a second finger.

“Wha—what’s that?” you asked, breathless.

“I need you to tell me what you think of when you get off. Tell me what you were thinking of before I showed up at your door.”

“I—I oh god,” you shouted as Eddie’s lips found your clit. “I—I thought about you on your fucking date.”

“Oh fuck,” Eddie groaned into your pussy, the vibrations shooting up your spine.

“I pictured you fucking her from behind, her skirt hiked up to her hips, her panties to the side as you fucked her in front of the bathroom mirror.”

“Fucking C—Christ,” Eddie stuttered, his hips rutting into the couch faster. “Keep going.”

“Then it was me you were fucking. You grabbed me by the hair, so I could watch what you were doing to me,” you said, your voice shaking with every word. “Eddie, please. I’m close. Please.”

“Come on, baby. You can do it. Tell me what I was doing to you.” He was past dreaming at this point. He was sure this was heaven. Hearing your words had him reeling. He didn’t want to stop, didn't know how to stop. He just knew he needed to see you come.

Your lip trembled. “Your hands were all over me, playing with my tits, your lips on my neck, and—and your big cock pounding into me over and oh-ver and—and Fuck! Eddie, don’t stop! Please, please, please!”

Your orgasm crashed down on you, expletives and Eddie’s name on your lips. Eddie continued to pump his fingers in and out of you like a madman as he lapped up your cum.

“Oh god, oh fuck!” he moaned against you.

You pushed his head off of you and caught your breath. Eddie took a breath, too, leaning back against his heels. You pulled him back up to you and kissed him, tasting yourself on your lips.

“That… was so hot,” Eddie said, releasing a breath.

“Can it be my turn to help you?” you asked, looking up at him through your eyelashes.

Eddie’s cheeks rouged slightly, his eyes trailing to the growing wet spot on his jeans. “I had a turn already,” he said, guilt painting his words. He leaned in toward you, a devilish smirk joining his features. “But I’m not done with you. Not yet.”

[thebibliosphere]

Speaking of therapy, I say, as though we're old friends, and you're not a stranger trapped in this metaphorical elevator with me and you can hear the suspension wires starting to fray.

I've been doing a lot of work recently that's focused on imposter syndrome and the feeling that no matter how well or how much I do, I'm not good enough. That I'm somehow tricking everyone into thinking my work is actually good.

Some days it's a minor niggle in my head that I can gentle and soothe with logic and affirmations. Or smother, depending on the mood. Other times it's loud and all-consuming and the mental anguish it causes me is so real I can feel it twitching in my muscles. This desperate fight-or-flight instinct with nowhere to go and nothing to fight but myself.

Anyway, because I'm several types of Mentally Unwell™, I was switching between workshop sheets ahead of next week. Filling in different forms. (Trying to get a good grade in therapy) And I got my "recognize your harmful ADHD coping mechanisms" worksheet mixed in with the "you're not actually lying to people, you just feel like you are because your brain is full of weasels" worksheet, and seeing them side by side made something go topsy turvy in my head, and I just had to sit and breathe for a couple of minutes until the urge to scream passed. Because it clicked, it all suddenly clicked.

The reason the imposter syndrome workshops and therapy sessions aren't sticking was because I do routinely trick people into thinking I'm someone I'm not.

Because I'm masking my ADHD for their convenience.

I've always known there was something wrong with me. My neurotypical peers made it abundantly clear I didn't fit in or was failing in some way I couldn't see nor remedy, no matter how hard I tried.

So I compressed myself into a workaholic box of hyper-competence in the hopes they'd stop noticing the flaws and exploit like me instead. And then subsequently lived with the daily fear that if they looked too close, they'd realize I'm a monumental fuck up with enough personal baggage to block the Suez Canal.

If you ever need someone to burn themselves to ashes for your comfort and convenience, I'm your gal.

Or I used to. Until I had a bit of a breakdown, and the rubber band holding my brain together snapped and pinged off into the stratosphere, never to be seen again.

Unfortunately, the trauma of living like that didn't also fuck off and instead left a gaping maw where my personality ought to be, so now I get to deal with that aftermath.

And it's that aftermath that's affecting the imposter syndrome shit. Because yes, I am hyper-competent and good at what I do-- but it doesn't feel real because that is how I mask.

And the truly frustrating thing is I am good at what I do. I am not pretending. I worked hard to be good at this. It just feels like I'm dicking around because 90% of my personality turns out to be trauma masquerading as humor in a trenchcoat, and having people genuinely like something weird I'm doing is so foreign my brain has decided it's just another form of masking.

I'm pretending to be a good author so people will think I'm a good author, and my brain thinks we are in Danger of being found out. We are in Danger, and writing is Dangerous because then people will know I'm Weird and not whatever palatable version I've presented myself as for their NT sensibilities.

Like the neurotic vampire with a raging praise kink wasn't an obvious giveaway.

Anyway. I got nothing else. Thanks for listening.

I'm going to go be very normal in another room and not stare into the abyss of my own soul for a bit.

[hellisharchive]

Hiii!!! I was wondering if you can do headcanons of what kinky/perv stuff that hazbin men (alastor, Lucifer, husk, Adam, val, etc) often do?

Plus I love your Adam fics!/headcanons

Have good day :3

﹒﹒﹒perversions of the soul

➤ [Separate] Lucifer, Adam, Val, Vox, and Saint Peter [Yall know I couldn't NOT include him, right?]

➤ 18+, sexual scenarios, sexual comments

➤ Hi, thank you for requesting! Because I don't write for Husk or Alastor won't include them, but I'll include the others! It's purely because I don't know how to write them in this way! I hope that's ok! :D

﹒﹒lucifer

He is a thighs man, he will stare at your thighs for hours if you let him. You've caught him so many times looking at your thighs and every time you lightly slap him on the shoulder because you know all he's thinking about is shoving his face in between them.

He loves to whisper dirty nothings into your ear to make you flustered in public, he lives for your reactions and red face as you try to remain calm. Just seeing your reactions and you slowly growing horny is enough to make him hard alone.

While that man can fuck good- he revels in giving oral sex to you whenever he can. He loves eating you out and sucking on you until you're cumming over and over again. He thinks you taste absolutely delicious and can't get enough of you. He's cum-drunk in all sense of the word.

﹒﹒﹒adam

This man isn't as kinky as you would originally think- but still explores sexually occasionally. However, if you got boobs, he will never get enough of them, and will motorboat them even if Lute is around. If you got a dick, best be ready for random crotch feel-ups at any given moment. If you don't have either/or- he will grab and pinch your ass and even smack it until its red.

He is big into you moaning, really big into it. It gets him off so easily, one little moan and he's at full mast. His main goal in bed is making you moan as loud as possible and when you do- well, expect to be getting a creampie.

Loves fangirls/fanguys and if you love him in his band before even personally knowing him, one stop to being given a...private show. He lives to see you get excited for his band and looking down at you from his stage, gives him the biggest serotonin rush (and another kind of rush) that slowly builds up over the course of the night as he gets sweaty and out of breath.

﹒﹒﹒valentino

Let's be real- what kinks doesn't this man have? There's many to chose from, but if I had to pick one- you being weak and powerless under him is one of his favorites. Watching you be completely at his disposal for any reason is a big yes to him.

Degredation is another one, oh boy, he loves making you feel like shit at any chance possible. He will tell you that you're a whore, a dirty slut, only good for being fucked by him and him alone.

He is possesive to the upmost degree and always makes sure to leave his marks all over you so others know that you are his. He always makes sure to parade you around the tower with you by his side so everyone knows not to fuck with you- messing with you or trying to fuck you.

Semi-public sex is his go-to when he needs a quickie, he loves fucking you in spaces where anyone can walk in and see you two going at it. He doesn't care who sees his body, he thinks it's hot as fuck and makes him even harder inside you if he hears someone walking by.

﹒﹒﹒vox

Just like Val- he is extremely possessive of what's his and makes it known. He doesn't display it publicly with you around as to not scare you off, but he makes sure every single person in the tower knows not to even touch you.

Biggest perv imaginable. Will watch you fuck yourself silly with toys even if he's just a room away. He never stops watching you, and I mean never. He always has to keep a close eye on you to make sure you don't fuck anyone else like Val or some ramdon schmuck off the street.

He loves getting his dick sucked above everything else, he loves the feeling of your pretty little lips wrapped around his cock swallowing all his cum down your throat. He loves to see you cry as you try to fit it all down, enjoys wiping them away and telling you that you're doing a good job.

﹒﹒﹒saint peter

That man is as innocent as can be what kinks could be possibly have? Well, he has a dirty little secret- one day he discovered that he got hard seeing you with ice cream all over your mouth and imagined it was cum. Naughty I know! Ever since he has not been able to let that thought go and guiltily imagines you sucking on his...

He always offers you ice cream just to watch you smother it all over your mouth as you eat it and he always acts nervous around you because he oh so badly wants to make his dirty fantasies real. But he can't just avoid you! You always ask why he likes ice cream so much and he simply says that it just tastes good.

He also would never admit that just you showing attention to him can get him riled up since almost every person that had crossed the gate never payed much attention to him. So when you showed interest in getting to know him and eventually dating him- he was down bad and it makes him act up a little.

[avocado-writing]

being the worst wolverine’s wife and one day you get zapped by the TVA for whatever reason, and it looks like you completely disappeared, this is what leads logan to become depressed, start drinking and ultimately ignore the x men when they die etc etc

he goes with wade purely bc he would if you were alive- he couldn’t give less of a shit about wade’s universe but he can feel you over his shoulder like an angel telling him he needs to do this (i imagine it’s like the jean hallucinations he had in the wolverine movie)

what if you’re in the void and he finds you with the rest of the group, like being unable to believe you’re really here?

hehe i love angst and ily avo <3

I already did a “Logan meets you in the void” fic here so I didn’t wanna make this too long or I’d just end up hitting the same beats!

1.4k. rated m for excessive use of the word “fuck”

The day you disappeared you took his fucking soul with him. 

You had been out shopping. Nothing weird about that, he wasn’t some overbearing husband who demanded to know your location every single hour. But then afternoon had turned into evening had turned into night and nobody had heard from you. The unfamiliar sensation of panic had risen, queasy, from his stomach into his chest. They sent out a search party and looked for days. Not a trace of you to be found. Logan couldn’t smell you. Fuck, he’d never not been able to smell you before.

He would hunt for you every day, hoping to find you alive but trying to level with the idea of you being cold and dead because at least then he’d have closure; he’d stay awake for hours on end until he collapsed from exhaustion… then he’d wake up and repeat the whole horrible affair. Nothing. After weeks of searching, Charles had laid a hand on his arm. Logan can still remember the look of pity on his face, like a bomb to the gut. 

“I’m so sorry, Logan.”

They had to assume you were abducted and killed. Your body never turned up. And Logan just had to… keep going. How was he meant to keep going? You were his entire fucking life and then you were just…

Gone. 

To say he was left empty was the biggest understatement of his fucking life. He was a shell of the man he once was. He never laughed any more, never smiled, always trying to plug the hole your absence left in him with whatever alcohol he could get his hands on. Drink himself to a place where he could forget you.

It never really worked. At least it made him numb to the pain though. 

When he staggers home one evening, eyes bleary and head spinning, and finds the whole mansion torched? Everyone left that he loved fucking dead? Well, it takes the last vestiges of his existence and crushes them into dust. 

Oh, Logan, he hears in the back of his mind. Your voice. It breaks him. He falls to his knees, hands buried in the burning timbers, and wails. 

He survives. He does not live. Thinking about everyone he’s lost, with you haunting the corners of his consciousness, always reaching out to comfort him - but when he goes to nuzzle into the warmth of your palm he is overcome with rage and bitterness to find it’s just his own imagination playing tricks on him. 

Then a fucking idiot in red dragged him away from the shambles which was his life and forced him to be functional again, if only barely. He’s angry, so angry all of the goddamn time, even when in the back of his mind he can hear you speaking sweet, calming words to him. 

And then he hears your voice for real. 

Sees you standing across the base this pathetic resistance has made. You look older, sure, he does too - but there’s no mistaking the fire in those eyes. You’re even wearing the same fucking shirt you went missing in, he remembers it, it has a picture of your favourite band. 

His heart stops dead in his chest as you whisper his name. 

“Logan?”

“Oh shit!” says Wade, and Logan has never wanted to kill him more, “Oh shit! Is this your refrigeratored wife, coming back to throw in a third act character arc?”

Logan finishes the bourbon bottle and throws the empty at Wade’s head, where it shatters and knocks him flat. You wince at the violence and he feels like pure shit. 

“I’m fine,” Wade calls from the ground, sticking a thumbs-up into the air. 

“Logan, I…” you clearly want to say something, but you have not been met with the Logan you knew. That Logan would have spent no time running to pick you up and hold you in his arms. This one half-snarls at the man he bloodied on the floor. 

There is an agonising silence, both of you wanting to speak but not being sure how. You take a hesitant step forward. 

“I never thought I’d…”

“How do I know it’s you?”

You recoil like he’s stabbed you with his claws, confusion and hurt flooding your face. Goddamn. He is the worst man alive. He’s not sure if he’s saying it because he just wants to lash out at the nearest person, or…

… or if, because he gets his hopes up, it might just kill him to have them crash down again. 

“What?”

“All these fuckin’ timelines. How do I know? How can I be sure that you’re you?”

The sadness in your face melts away into anger. When you step forward this time, you’re on the warpath. He sees the others in the room cringe, trapped now in this caustic reunion. 

“How can you be sure it’s me? Fuck, Logan, I knew it was you, didn’t I? What do you want? You want me to show you the shitty tattoo I got after we first started dating and we were both drunk?” You lift your sleeve to reveal a little design on your shoulder. “Want me to tell you how an eighteen-year-old Marie was my bridesmaid and she cried because she didn’t think anyone would ever be that kind to her after living as a mutant again? Want me to fucking remind you that in my vows I said I would be by your side, for fucking ever, no matter what - and how when that TVA agent zapped me when I was out for the day and I ended up here, it was only the thought of fulfilling those vows which kept me going? How about all that, or do I fucking need to humiliate myself more?” At this, you gesture to the others who have lined up at the side of the room, trying to look scarce but utterly failing. 

Your shoulders are heaving with emotions, tears hot and heavy in your eyes but not yet spilling over. Logan grits his jaw. Yeah. It’s you. 

“I…” he starts, but trails off when he realises there’s nothing he can say. You shake your head, numb. 

“Fuck you, Logan Howlett,” you spit, words you’ve never ever thrown his way before, and run out of the room. 

“Wow. Aced that one, peanut,” says Wade, and Logan rips off one of his legs. 

He finds you several hours later at a campfire outside the rundown building which makes up headquarters. LeBeau has clearly been kind enough to part with some of his liquor, because you’re gulping down whiskey like it’s air. You stare at him, embers dancing in bitter eyes. 

“What do you want?” you snap. He grunts as he sits down opposite you, either from age or exertion. Stares into the flames. 

“I never stopped looking,” he manages. 

You blink. 

“What?”

“I never…” he shifts uncomfortably. It’s been a long time since he bared this much of his soul. “I never stopped. Even when the others told me to give up, that I would only make it worse for myself, I’d still search. Couldn’t face the idea you weren’t there any more.”

It’s true. If he was twelve bottles deep he’d be looking, if he was hungover as a dog he’d be looking. When the rest of the X-Men were still there and even after they weren’t. If he wasn’t sitting at a bar he was on the streets, ever a bloodhound trying to catch your scent again. 

For the first time you soften. 

“Oh.”

“So… when I asked if it was you… ah, fuck. I didn’t mean to come off as an asshole. Just couldn’t live with it if it wasn't true. Wasn’t real.”

When you stand he expects a slap. He deserves it. What he doesn’t count on is you sitting down - not on the log next to him, but in his lap. He hasn’t felt you do that for so long, and it’s so good. Your warmth on his thigh. You grab one of his hands, still larger than yours, and press it to your chest so he can feel your beating heart. 

“I’m real, Logan. I’m right here, baby,” you whisper, eyes dewy. Fuck. His are as well; he can’t help it. He’s overwhelmed by you, your feel, your gaze, your smell. He’d forgotten how much he loved it. 

Logan noses upwards against you, searching for your lips, and you let him find them. When you stroke his hair he can feel the wedding ring on your left hand. The kiss is desperate, longing, and the best one he’s ever had. 

“Right here,” you repeat, forehead against his. He grips you so tightly that it’s possible he’ll never let go again. 

[kousanosgf]

men, minors dni

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　☽༓･*˚⁺‧

sevika x f!reader

you take care of sevika when both of you decide to spend the night at the club

tags: fluff, lap dance, oral (sevika receiving), fingering (sevika receiving)

an: was written while i was listening to my soft/chill tyla and rosalia playlist, keep it in mind for the atmosphere (⁠⁠ꈍ⁠ᴗ⁠ꈍ⁠)

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　☽༓･*˚⁺‧

the night was still young but the party was in a full swing. you were not yet drunk on the alcohol but the atmosphere and music made you euphoric. you were dancing for the past hour, the gentle beats of the drums, mbiras and xylophones, guitar string that jumped from upbeat to more sensual led your body. it was something you preferred more than the hard electronic noise of other clubs, which were more common in zaun.

though something or someone was missing. you left the dancefloor, making your way to the bar. a bartender nudged a glass of water your way and you took it in one swing, thankful to the woman.

hands captured your waist from behind, one real and the other mechanical, a body pressed close to your back.

"vika", you smiled and reached your hand back, sliding a palm on sevika's neck. "i'm all sweaty". you wrinkled your nose smiling.

"you often are when we're together", the woman whispered in your ear with heat but it only made you laugh. sevika was in your favorite drunk mood: touchy and blabbering sweet nonsense.

"missed you", she sighed heavily, like you didn't came here together. "well, someone could've dance with me". sevika only huffed out, grumpy, making you giggle again.

you signaled to a bartender for a new set of drinks. as you untangled yourself from sevika's grip you took the glasses, pushing one in her hand. "come on, baby", you moved away from the bar to the private booths, choosing one and closing the heavy curtains.

the booth was nice, muted colours, little trinkets hanging here and there, inviting soft and, mostly important for zaun, clean pillows. sevika plopped down on the seat, drowning in the cushions.

she was too quiet today, not that she would run her mouth nonstop in your or anyone else's presence, but definitely more quite than usual. "what's wrong?", you poked her gently in the side as you took your place beside her. she just grumbled in response. okay, so no reason really, you blamed alcohol for her attitude.

"did you watch me dance?", you try to get her mind out of the dark places. you put your knees under yourself to sit a little higher to be able to put your arm around her shoulders. she leaned into your embrace.

"barely. too much people", sevika answers, clearly sulking over the fact.

she never was the one to care for parties and definitely not participating in them, usually preferring some dimly lit bars and a long card game. but ever since you appeared in her life she made sure to follow you around to the clubs. "just care for your safety, princess", sevika would say. and that's a solid reason, zaun can be harsh on anyone, so noone would say no to a woman like sevika taking a role of a bodyguard. in this case though she loved seeing you move as if the dancefloor was your natural habitat, your home.

"been staring at me the whole night from your dark corner. people probably think you're some creep", you joked everytime later, when you went back home or moved somewhere private, like today.

"let me make it up to you", you untangle yourself from her and climb on her lap. sevika's real hand immediately gribs your thighs, running up to cup your ass cheek.

"no touching, babe. it's a performance." you smile and slap her hand away playfully. sevika frowns but doesn't try to do anything else.

you let your hair down, slowly dragging the hair band. the muffled music changed to something more slow, fortunately setting the right mood, you hummed the tune.

sevika's gaze was turning heated and hungry by a second, following your hands as they dragged on you body, starting with you hips, going up to your sides, to your neck, tangling in your hair and moving back, all while you swayed from side to side, making waves with your torso, coming closer and father to press against sevika's body.

"don't be mean", she whined under you after couple of songs, her fingers twitching in a need to touch.

and you were being mean, you knew that. you just couldn't help yourself to tease your girlfriend when she was so cute, all mushy and relaxed.

"told you, i'll make it up to you", you leaned closer, whispering in her ear.

the sound of a zipper opening is too loud. you can feel yourself on edge already. but this is not about you. you raise your eyes, looking over sevika's face. her eyes arr closed, she's breathing heavily. she's beautiful like that, she always is, really. but something about her soft expression, how relaxed she is under you awakens butterflies in your stomach.

her hands grip your waist as you move to stand up, holding you on her lap.

"come on, vika", you protest and push her hair out of her face. "if you want something, i gotta stand up". she let's you but complains while she does it.

you slide down on the floor, sitting on your knees now in front of her. sevika feels a tap on her hips and raises them to let you make a quick work of taking off her pants and underwear.

she's not wet enough yet, you notice as you slide your fingers between her folds but it's not much of a problem. you love taking it slow with her, spending all the time in the world leaving kisses and light bites on her inner thighs, while your hands roam around her body, squeezing her waist, feeling her muscles, your fingers traveling up and down the hair on her stomach.

"please" sevika whines and that's exactly what you were waiting for, that's how you know she's ready.

you move closer, though it feels like you can't be even more, skin touching skin. your fingers slide with ease inside of her and you feel like you're the one who needs to moan in pleasure. her pussy is hot, clenching around your digits.

"so good, baby. so pretty". you praised her because how could you not. sevika holds herself from moving too much so she wouldn't mess up the game you're playing, her hips staying in place but already trembling.

"don't even need to tell you what to do, yeah? always know what i want from you".

at last, as you move the tips of your fingers inside of her, you put your mouth on her. your tongue flat, you try to get as much as you can, starting from the place your fingers connect with her hole, going up, pressing on her clit and dragging it to her press. the sounds she makes are heavenly, sevika is so worked up she moans loudly, arching her back. you sure if anyone stands right outside the booth, they could hear it. it only makes you want her more, to make her scream that everyone in the club would know how weak she's for you. the woman who scares every thug on the streets of this city turns into a soft and whiney mess in your arms. that kind of power makes you dizzy.

you suck on her clit, hollowing your cheeks to put more pressure.

"wait", sevika breaths out.

"what's wrong, baby? already ready to cum?"

both of you want it to last so you give her time, withdrawing your lips and fingers completely and going back to caressing her inner thighs.

"gonna eat you out so good, gonna make you feel so good, vika."

her hands press on your head when she decides she's ready, guiding you back to her dripping cunt.

"need to promise me one thing, though", you smile as she nods without questions.

"look at me, 'kay? don't close your eyes."

you return to where you stopped. you try to be soft and careful at first, kissing her folds, occasionally flicking your tongue between them or pressing it on her clit, all while you hold her gaze. you smirk and huff out as her eyes remind you of some sad puppy, asking for more.

"fuck", she swears as you quicken you moves, getting messier. you can swear that's where you belong. between her thighs, squeezing your head so all the noise becomes muffled, like you're underwater, your tongue deep inside of her and your nose rubbing her clit.

it's cute, you think, how obedient she is for you, still trying to look you in the eyes, as you asked her, fighting the need to roll them back and just arch her back, leaning her head on the sofa back.

your face is drenched in her juices, few drops falling on the floor between your knees. you're so worked up, your panties are probably all wet but your pleasure isn't a top priority now. and honestly seeing sevika brake under your mouth is pleasurable enough.

as you feel her squirming and moaning more and more, you know she's close, so you put your arms under her knees and raise them on your shoulders. she never lets you do it while she still can control the situation, worried that it's too much for your smaller frame. but now sevika is going crazy with her own pleasure and you don't have to deny yourself.

it takes her couple more seconds to cum finally. her eyes roll back and she gives herself a moment of weakness as she throws her head back but quickly returns back to hold your gaze when she remembers your request.

you guide her through her orgasm, slowing your moves and letting go of her legs.

"relax, sweetheart", you laugh as you finally tear yourself from her pussy and climb back in her lap. your hand covers her eyes and you feel her eyelashes flutter, tickling your palm.

"you're a dream, vika."

sevika reaches for your lips and you meet her halfway through. the kiss is slow and sloppy, both of you need time to get some air and steady your breath. her cheeks now wet too. it does something to you, seeing her own juice on her face, makes you want more of her.

"fuck, vika. gonna destroy you when we get home. promise."

[larrylimericks]

19Oct24

No matter how mad the word made us, It always held hope — a “hiatus.”

I’m sad for so many reasons — the fundamental sadness of death, and at such a young age; having to process the mortality of someone so extraordinary it seems they should transcend a fate as ordinary as dying; aching for his family and friends; angry that he had to navigate such a cruel world, one that continues to disrespect him in death. Yes, Liam was damaged and in turn damaged others; he had demons to face and amends to make — I like to think he would have, given a chance. His talent was so immense, and there was so much more to come. I believe he would have found a way to redemption, and then had such a beautiful renaissance.

The joy of being a 1D fan has always been policed and mocked. We’ve so frequently been laughed at, dismissed for the intensity of our love for the band. And now, the world wants to do the same with our grief, questioning its legitimacy, trivializing our feelings. But this loss is real. And this grief is valid.

And the grief of losing Liam is compounded by the grief of losing so much else. He wasn’t just a celebrity. They weren’t just a boyband. He was an integral part of an integral part of our formative years — no matter how old we were when we found them. So many of us are the people we are in part because of the people they are. Were. We’ve lost a beloved one, we’ve lost innocence, we’ve lost inspiration, we’ve lost a piece of our foundation.

We’ve lost hope.

It used to frustrate me, in retrospect, that they called it a “hiatus.” It felt dishonest — like a gentle lie to let us down easy. Why couldn’t they just say it was over? That being a boy band has a built-in shelf life, and it was time to explore solo careers. But now I understand the kindness in that word. For hope springs eternal, and it didn’t matter if it never came. All that matters was that it might. And “hiatus” wasn’t just for us; it held their optimism too. Especially Liam’s. It left the door open, even if only a crack, for the possibility of something more.

It’s been a remarkable gift to watch each one find his own path and his own voice. But when they announced a hiatus in 2015, they planted a seed of hope that someday we’d see the unrivaled magic of those boys on stage together again — the greatest team the world has ever seen. Maybe Zayn would join, probably not. Maybe it would’ve been a one-off thing for charity or a special anniversary. Maybe it would be in their 50s when the allure of easy money from a reunion tour was too tempting to resist. But surely, eventually, 1D would reunite in some capacity. I was excited to see how their once frenetic energy and youthful antics would meld with the mature solo artists they’ve become.

That hope sustained us through 18 months and eventually eight years, but now the hiatus is over. I would have happily clowned for every remaining day of my life than know this new certainty brought by the finality of Liam’s death. Maybe, someday, there will be a memorial performance. Maybe we’ll see three or four out of five come together to honor him — and what a poignant testament it will be that Liam was what could bring them together. Or maybe it will never feel right to them to take the stage without him, and that, too, will make all the sense in the world.

I wish I had an uplifting ending for this post. I don’t. I wake up and my first thought is “Liam isn’t here anymore,” and then I go about my day with that relentless realization lurking around the corner of every mundane task I do.

I haven’t been able to listen to their music yet. It’s a cruel trick that the thing that always brought comfort is now a trigger for grief. But I hope that will soon change. That, at some point, I’ll put on WMYB, get choked up at “You’re insecure” and second-guess my readiness. But then jump to History, and find solace in the lyrics that are currently rattling around my brain but aren’t ready to be heard yet: “This is not the end, this is not the end” … “We can live forever.”

❯❯❯❯

[breathinlove]

band!ellie 2 headcanons and smau

read this

sinopse: ellie williams is the lead singer in a band (+some texts with her).

cw: nsfw after the texts with warning! swearing, explicit, reader works in a record store and ellie's a simp, not explicit if reader is fem or masc.

part 1

band!ellie who made it unbelievable for dina and jesse to believe she found her girl, but then they met you.

“this shit's cringe as fuck, but you two are sweet…” jesse starts and dina immediately agrees. “yeah, she's perfect for you, el.” “i knowwwww, i need her.” jumping like a teenage girl fr...

band!ellie who sometimes thinks her bandmates like you way too much.

“invite y/n to the next rehearsal too for real.” jesse says after you leave a rehearsal you went to. “okay man i get it, she's amazing.” with an annoyed expression. “so… invite her.” dina chuckles. “no, i don't want any of you jumping on my girl.” but she does invite you anyway.

band!ellie who's so stupid tbh, she's gonna sign girls’ tits after concerts and act all oblivious when you swerve her kisses.

and swerving her is so fun istg, she's gonna try like 4 times before she's upset. UPSET! (she will go non verbal).

band!ellie who's the type to perform and glance at you like you're about to have sex right that instant (u will, after the concert tho!).

band!ellie who's a singer herself but turns on the tv and pretends to be the weeknd for you.

band!ellie who wishes she could rap… actually, no. she thinks she can.

"that was... something." you smirk and she scoffs, throwing herself on the couch she was standing on, mic in hand. "i'm literally in my rapper era but whatever, you'll see." and you're full on laughing. "don't laugh." and you come hug her and say she's so so special.

band!ellie who makes it so you can't open x (twitter) without seeing girls mourning your girlfriend… she's alive not single tho!

band!ellie who's always late for everything, but she tries her best istg. you and the band are TIREDDD.

band!ellie who's nervous about pda… but she likes it, showing everyone you're hers and she's yours.

band!ellie who made a slideshow about how you should move into her apartment… that was kinda like:

“REASONS FRRRR 🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥💯💯💯

ALL OF THEM 🤣

we're literally soulmates so we gotta be roommates too???

countless sleepovers omg i'm crying!

i'll never be late again (kinda😬)

we can get a pet tg 😯

i'll get to listen to u sing in the shower more and you know i like hearing you and singing with you while im in the toilet or even outside the bathroom

passionate lesbian sex before sleeping, after eating, doing the dishes, the laundry ALL THE TIME

i love you the most and i want you close all the time

you love me back (i hope) so you gotta want me close too

i want you as my wife asap

think about it, thanks and please my love ❤️”

you moved in… weak mf but can anyone blame you??

band!ellie who loves cooking with you for friends and family when they come over. just loves being with you in general but even house chores are better with you??

band!ellie who comes to disturb see you at your job, your bosses hate her and said they were gonna stop selling their album 😒 (they actually love her).

band!ellie who switches from your serious cool rockstar girlfriend to your silly baby girlfriend in a second.

band!ellie who reposts them and comments under edits fans make of you, even more than her own edits.

“that's my baby so stop gawking.(jk)” “whats her @” “id repost but my gf would be jealous, shes hot asf 🤤🤤” “THAT'S MY GIRL” “creamed💔” "straight to the y/n folder" someone said “ellie cant handle allat” and she replied fr “true, she the one handling me 💯💢” SHE HAS NO CHILL...

band!ellie who pays the same attention to potential hate you'd get, she will block them… don't talk about her girl.

nsfw (cw: cunnilingus [e and r!receiving], fingering [e and r!receiving]. switch!ellie!!!!).

band!ellie who treats you like a star

you were supposed to be in the shower but ellie saw you stripping out of your clothes and she has to ask to kiss your clit, dropping to her knees. her fingers bruising your thighs and shes eating you out as if she'd been starving. you cum but she's not satisfied yet, she pulls you down on the bedroom carpet with her "give me another one, please." hands roaming your skin ever so softly, sending shivers down your body. she asks what you want, the position, how many fingers, she just needs to please you. and now she's on top of you, pounding you with her fingers and pressing down your lower stomach because she just wants you to cum again.

band!ellie who loves sleepy sex

she's gonna be in bed with you, almost asleep asking you for kisses, then for some touches... and you end up between her legs, sloppy nasty head and some slow fingering. your lips around her clit and kissing her pussy lips and slit and your fingers in and out her pussy. she's whining and squealing, playing with her own tits and caressing ur face. you're humming against her pussy and she's clenches "let go for me, ellie..." you coo and she squirts on your mouth and fingers. soft pants leaving her lips, soon stopping with her caresses on your face as you lick her cum. you look up, hair messy against the pillow and eyes closed. "i love you..." she mutters after you clean her and lay next to her "i love you." you spoon her.

a/n: this is kinda shitty but it's for who asked for more! @kyleeservopoulos @sameenatruther @harrysslutsstuff

[imfinereallyy]

I wonder if you look both ways (When you cross my mind) pt. 2

pt. 1 pt. 3

🐝･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･✦ʚɞ

June 1996, Chicago

Steve doesn’t exactly know when Eddie Munson became one of his best friends, let alone when he fell in love with him.

He supposes both things occurred between the end of the world, and Eddie’s back walking out the door for the last time, unbeknownst to anyone. Though, that is five years of time, who’s to say when it really happened.

Dustin will argue the friend part. He likes to think it was he who brought them together (it certainly wasn’t; in fact, it put a real bump in the road for them). Dustin also thinks, which Steve is more inclined to think is true, that the two of them had become friends during Eddie’s slow recovery and Steve’s guilt complex, which made him feel responsible for him.

Which—ouch, Dustin—but years of therapy would prove him right.

Little shit.

Dustin doesn't know about the love part, though, and Steve doesn’t think much of the party knows except for one or two of the perceptive ones.

Looking at you, Lucas.

Robin likes to argue that Steve doesn’t know when he fell in love with Eddie because Eddie was different from everyone else.

Steve puts everything into love, moves fast, falls hard, and ultimately gets crushed by his own passion. Steve doesn’t know how to take things slow or wait around for the right person.

Until he did, with Eddie.

Steve managed to have a slow decent into the madness of loving a man like Eddie Munson. And he never did anything about it, although he didn't mind. Steve was okay with just being friends and loving from afar.

Until they weren't even that, and Eddie was gone.

Steve can't think about that now, instead he should probably worry about the man himself breaking into his apartment at 3 a.m.

"Get. Out." Robin hisses, breaking Steve from his thoughts.

Suddenly, Eddie stands. His hands thrust forward in a placating nature, and nervous energy radiates off of him. "Robin, please—"

"No, Munson. You don't get to disappear from our lives for five years, and then break into our apartment!" Robin whisper shouts, the metal bat waving around in her grip.

Steve still hasn't said anything, still unsure of any of it is really happening. But he can't help but warm at Robin's fierceness.

She will go down swinging for Steve, even against someone she cares about.

Fuck, he loved her.

"Give me one good reason not to bash your skull in with this thing, Munson. I dare you!" Robin took the metal bat and pushed it into Eddie's chest.

Steve gets a good look at him as he stumbles backward. He doesn't look much different—well that's a lie. He does look different; more tattoos, more piercings and Steve is pretty surprised to catch him wearing anything other than a band tee. It is just so all quintessentially Eddie. The jewelry is all silver, any tattoo he got after 1986 appears to be in black and red ink only. Even his tee is still black despite the lack of a band on the front.

"Birdie, I don't think you should have Steve's bat in your hands, you're a bit dangerous." Eddie tries to grab the bat from her hands but Robin yanks it back.

"Oh, fuck you, Munson! You don't get to call me Birdie, and this is my bat. Steve's is wooden and full of nails and underneath his bed. You should know that, or has the last five years really rotted your brain?" Robin is now waving the bat around with gusto, nearly missing Steve's head at one point.

Trying to shake himself from his frozen state, Steve decides it is probably in everyone's best interest if he steps in.

"Robs." Steve speaks gently, hand on the bat as he slowly lowers it down. Her shoulders drop, the fight draining out of her in seconds. "It's okay."

It's not okay. Steve doesn't understand what's happening right now. But Steve is okay as long as he has Robin, and Robin has him. Steve hopes she understands that's what he meant.

Robin nods her head, and shuffles closer to him.

Steve takes a shaky breath, "What are you doing here, Munson?"

Eddie cringes at the use of his last name but doesn't comment. "Listen, I know it's weird me just stopping by suddenly—"

Robin snorts, "I wouldn't exactly call breaking in 'stopping by'."

Eddie shakes his head, ignoring her. Stray curls start to fall loose from their bun. "I just want to talk, for you guys to hear me out."

Steve rubs a hand down his face, he is getting too old for this stuff. Being blindsided, being surprised—being thrown sideways and upside down. Sure, twenty-nine isn't exactly old, but Steve has lived practically six different lifetimes by now. There is so much damage to him—physically and emotionally. He is supposed to be past nonsense like this.

Robin takes his silence as permission to snip at Eddie, "No. Go away, Eddie. You don't get to do that. Get out."

Eddie moves a step forward, he is now illuminated completely by the side table's light. He looks tired—good but tired. It's not the kind of tired you see of someone in distress, not the ache that comes along in the tunnel that has no light in the end. No, Eddie looks tired in the way that comes with healing. Like working hard exhaustion. As if coming home from a long but good day at work, and the night grows weary.

Eddie opens his mouth to argue, but Steve cuts him off. "It's fine, Robbie. It's late; let him crash on the couch."

Eddie's shoulders sag in relief, "Thanks, Stevie, we can talk—"

"No." Steve chokes out, moving his hand towards his throat so he can remember to breathe. "You don't get to call me that. And we're not talking about anything. You'll sleep here, but that's it. I might not want you here, but it doesn't mean I'm going to let you wander the streets at night."

"Steve, please—" Eddie reaches out his hands to touch Steve. It is most likely going to be a gentle touch, but Steve can't help the way he violently flinches.

Eddie looks taken aback, eyes wide and full of sadness. He pulls his hands back.

"No, Eddie." Steve grabs Robin's hand and starts to pull her to bed. She doesn't protest and instead leans into his touch. Steve turns over his shoulder to look at Eddie again. "You'll stay the night. It's not an option. But my morning? I want you gone. I don't want you to be the first thing I see after sunrise."

Steve turns quickly back around, ignoring the pained grunt from behind him.

Bypassing Robin's bedroom, Steve pulls them both into his. Robin doesn't question it and instead makes herself comfortable in his forest green blankets.

Steve quickly follows after, snuggling into the bed beside her. People have thought them weird over the years—always in each other's spaces and knowing every little thing about each other. Partners, friends, family—all of them had something to say about it, never even bothering to understand.

Well, except Eddie. Eddie appreciated it, accepted it. Adored it at times.

"Are you really okay with this, Dingus?" Robin whispers softly between them.

"No." Steve never lies to Robin; she'll know. "Not at all, but I'm not going to let him wander the streets, no matter what I loved him at some point. I don't let the people I loved, get hurt."

Robin squints in pity, "Loved?"

"Not now, Bobbie," Steve whispers.

Robin nods, "Besides, I'm pretty sure 'Ed Sloane' can afford a fucking hotel room."

Steve lets out a loud snort, it echoes throughout the room. "God, don't remind me. What a stupid fucking name."

The two of them dissolve into giggles, bumping their heads together. Under the covers, they clasp their hands together tight. "I just don't want you to derail your life, for someone who walked so easily out of it. I know you have that important lunch with Drew tomorrow."

Steve takes a breathe through his nose, "Yea, I do. But it'll be fine. He'll be gone before I'm even up. You know Eds, he's a runner. Wouldn't stop trying to prove it, in fact."

Robin's face is scrunched in pain, and her eyes pool with pity. It's as if she knows something Steve doesn't or sees something he chooses to ignore. She doesn't comment on it, though. Instead, she raises an eyebrow, "Eds?"

It isn't snippy or accusing. Her voice is soft against his cheek. Steve doesn't have the mental capacity to argue though. "G'night, Birdie."

"Goodnight, Stevie." She whispers.

Steve closes his eyes, knowing it will all feel like a dream tomorrow.

Steve is familiar with having dreams with Eddie in them.

🐝･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･✦ʚɞ

more to come i promise, especially after your (loving demands). especially my mutuals who yelled at me in the tags and my dm's (it made my day).Part 3 is currently being typed up. Also might fuck around and make this a full-blown ao3 one shot; who knows.

tag list!:

@stevesbipanic @withacapitalp @emryyyyy09 @brainfugk @blueberrylemontea-fanfic

@slv-333 @thetinymm @connected-dots-st-reblogger @helpimstuckposting @dreamercec

@goodolefashionedloverboi @stripey82 @little2nerdy @anne-bennett-cosplayer @resident-gay-bitch

@ghostquer @sourw0lfs @devondespresso

(please let me know if you don't want a tag, I had to guess by the comments, and sorry if you’re getting a random tag after posting, I had to fix the tag list cause tumblr is weird)

[yunniverse]

You’re My Dream

౨ৎ PAIRING— rockstar!jeong yunho x reader

౨ৎ GENRE— fluff, ended relationship, fem!reader

౨ৎ WARNINGS— angst, fluff

౨ৎ WORD COUNT— 1.4k

౨ৎ SUMMARY— you broke up because he was too focused on his music dream, but maybe you and love were the real dream all along.

౨ৎ A/N— i saw a lot of people saying they wanted a oneshot with the concept photos from the 2025 seasons greetings, so i made one! i hope you like it, even though it isn’t quite as angsty as you probably wanted :( still, feedback is appreciated and thanks for reading, lovelies! <3 (i’ll tag a few people who said they were interested if someone wrote one: @beabatiny, @goldendynastys, @kibs-and-bits)

Staring at the fire crackling, you try to hold back the tears that threaten to escape. When had it all gone so wrong?

Just last year, you had been enjoying your boyfriend’s Christmas show with his rock band, and now you’re sitting alone, the night before Christmas.

The crackling of the fire adds to your melancholy, the harsh cold winds blowing outside creating a gloomy atmosphere. You know you should forget like he has, but you can’t throw away two years of your life that easily.

The memories of last Christmas come flooding back to you, even as you try to suppress them. Memories of sitting beside the fire with Yunho, cuddling as you watched a cheesy Christmas movie. Or baking Christmas cookies together at his apartment, laughing as you threw flour at each other.

Turning to the remote controller, you press the power button, not expecting to see him on the screen. His band is playing, and you immediately feel a pang in your chest at the sight of him, his fingers dashing across the keyboard.

Even though he’s the keyboard player and not the lead singer, he has an air about him that draws you in, making it unable to look away, even as you know you should. Why is he still having this effect on you?

The song is one you recognize. “Merry Christmas, Please Don’t Call,” by Bleachers.

It’s a song he’d introduced to you last Christmas, and, even though it’s sad, it had been a source of joy for you in a way last year, because you remember dancing to the song with him, smiling and laughing.

Now, it really is sad.

When he gets up at the end of the song, leaning into the microphone, you furrow your eyebrows, listening.

“That song goes out to someone I lost a year ago today.” He looks right at the camera, his brown eyes sparkling with unshed tears. “I’m sorry, baby. I wish it had been different, but know that I never really stopped loving you.”

You gasp, only momentarily questioning if he’s really talking to you, before you jump up, now determined to make things right for some reason. You know it’ll probably end in more heartache, but you have to try.

Grabbing your keys and coat, you hurry out the door into the winter storm, unlocking your car before hopping in.

Even though the roads are horrible tonight, you know the way to his apartment like the back of your hand, only slowing because of the snow.

About twenty minutes later, you arrive at his apartment complex, hurrying out of the car, through the blinding snow, and into the lobby of the building.

You try to calm yourself down, stepping into the elevator and pressing the button to the fourth floor.

When you get to the floor, you walk down the hall, slowing to a stop in front of his door. Taking a deep breath, you knock.

It takes about two minutes, but the door opens, revealing a messy-haired Yunho, a few locks of his dark blue hair having fallen in front of his brown eyes, which widen at the sight of you.

“Y/N?” he whispers, his hand clutching the doorknob so tight you think he might break it. “What are you doing here?”

“I saw the program.”

“Oh.”

With a sigh, you rub your arm, biting your lip, really starting to wonder what you’re really doing here yourself. “H-How have you been?”

“Is that really what you’re going to ask?” Yunho asks, giving you a half-smile.

“What else would I say?” you question softly, suddenly feeling stupid for coming to see him. “I can’t just say Merry Christmas or something stupid like I’ve missed you—”

“Can’t you?” he asks, his dark eyes searching yours. “Because I’ve missed you.”

Sighing, you frown slightly, “This can’t be happening. I don’t know what I was thinking. Let me just—“

He grabs your wrist as you turn to leave, making your gaze snap back to his. “Every day without you has been torture. You came to see me for a reason. Do you feel the same?”

“Yunho, it doesn’t matter how we feel. It can’t work now anymore than it did then. We have different goals.”

“We don’t have to!” he exclaims, almost desperately. “I can give up the band if that’s what you want. You were upset it took up so much of my time? I’ll quit.”

Your eyes widen as you shake your head, “Yunho, the reason you couldn’t give it up for me before is because it’s what you love to do. I can’t take that away from you. I can’t make you live without it.”

“Well, I can’t live without you.”

His words hang heavy in the air, making you suck in a sharp breath, “Yunho…”

“Don’t say anything,” Yunho tells you, taking a single step closer. “Just tell me…”

“Tell you what?” you ask, your eyebrows furrowing.

“What do you feel?” he asks, just before he leans in, his face inches from yours. Your heartbeat quickens as his warm breath fans across your lips. “If you feel nothing, I’ll leave you alone.”

You’re torn between wanting to close the distance and knowing you shouldn’t.

You don’t have to wait for long.

It feels like the world stops when his soft lips brush against yours for the first time in months. It isn’t like an electric shock, with fireworks exploding, rather it’s like coming home after a long time away. Like warmth and softness and… love.

It only takes a few seconds for you to melt into him, the kiss deepening as he lifts his hands to cup your face, your hands finding his chest, his heartbeat quickens beneath yours fingertips.

After a few moments, he pulls away, his forehead resting against yours as he pants softly, waiting for you to respond.

“I wish I could say I felt nothing,” you whisper, feeling a little helpless against your emotions. “But I can’t. I’ve never been able to.”

“Then give us another chance,” Yunho pleads, his thumbs brushing across your cheekbones. “I meant what I said during the program. I’ve never stopped loving you.”

“But what about the band? What about all the reasons we broke up months ago?”

“You and I both know we were being petty then. And I can quit the band, like I said,” Yunho replies, his tone serious.

“I don’t want you to,” you respond quietly, making him furrow his eyebrows.

“What?” he asks slowly, confusion etched into his features.

“I don’t want you to quit what you love,” you clarify. “That’s what ended things between us before. We quit on our love, and I won’t let you quit on the band now. I was stupid to think you loved me any less because of your passion for music. Please don’t stop playing, Yun.”

“Are you sure?” he asks slowly. “It’ll still take up as much time as it did before, maybe more, since we’ve grown a little more popular now.”

“I don’t care,” you smile softly. “All I care about is being with you again. And I won’t let my jealousy over your time get in the way again… as long as you let me come to your shows.”

“Every single one.”

With a small laugh, you lean forward, pressing another soft kiss to his lips before burying your face in his neck, inhaling his calming scent you’ve missed so much.

“Maybe we should get out of the hallway?” Yunho chuckles, tugging your hand, guiding you into his apartment. “We have a lot of catching up to do.”

You smile shyly, nodding, as you let him close the door behind you both.

Three months later, you’re cheering for Yunho and his band as he performs, smiling widely when he finally comes backstage, his arms open as you laugh, throwing yourself into his arms for a hug. “You did so well, Yunnie,” you whisper in his ear.

He grins, nuzzling his nose into your hair, “Thank you, baby. You’re always the best cheerleader.”

“Can’t say I don’t like the fake tattoos on your hands either,” you tell him wryly, tracing the markings with your finger.

“Oh?” he asks, chuckling softly, his eyes sparking with mischief. “Maybe I’ll leave them on for a little while. And I’ll be sure to tell the stylist you like them.”

“Good,” you grin. “I’m good with anything now as long as you never tell me ‘please don’t call’ like you did last winter ever again.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

[fangsandfeels]

"Everyone gets along because there is a threat", yadda, yadda, yadda.

Bullshit. This is not how real scenarios work and it has never been.

russia is a global threat right now, but the world can't decide between sucking its dick and politely asking it to stop because the mere thought of confronting russia makes it shit its pants. The very few countries who scream into the void, warning about russia and telling people to wake the fuck up are ignored and viewed as crazy doomsayers.

This is how real crisis looks like. Nobody works together against a threat because people are spineless cowards who would rather throw their neighbors under the bus than fight. Nobody learned anything from history lessons, books or survivors.

The only difference in a fantasy game is that NPCs end up having more spine and moral principles than real people.

But in Veilguard, everyone gets along because they have NO reasons not to.

Davrin has no real reasons to beef (if you can call it that) with Lucanis because he is a Grey Warden. He knows where Grey Wardens take their conscripts from. He knows that Grey Wardens regularly recruit mages who are a lot more likely to get possessed if they're not careful. Working with an assassin who knows friend from foe isn't the worst thing ever. One subtle warning about taking action if demon takes over is enough.

Taash has no reasons to antagonize Emmrich aside from horrible writing.

Neve gets along with Bellara because writers gave Bellara a happy childhood with her family and turned Dalish artifacts into Apple store gadgets, while refusing giving Neve any nuance as the citizen of Tevinter.

Emmrich gets along with everyone because he is generally a kind and well-mannered person who doesn't like to stir the pot.

Any companion who could have had a sharp edge, got that edge ripped off and a cartoon band-aid slapped on.

Never doesn't deal with people who don't know about Shadow Dragons (and they probably shouldn't know much because when you work against a powerful government who wants to destroy you, you shouldn't show off), so she constantly has to deal with the fact that people assume she is a noble or a slave-owner because she is from Tevinter; that they don't know that she had to literally fight against being enslaved herself because in Tevinter mages who refuse to use their power to dominate others are turned into slaves as well.

Bellara isn't conflicted about working with humans, especially Tevinter humans at all. She seems to never have dealt with oppression her whole life and she is super quick to write off Cyrian as evil even though there are clear SIGNS that he was tricked and controlled by the Forgotten One. But no, she never thinks "He is still there, I can save him, I won't lose him again", she goes straight to "Oh nooo my brother is dead to me".

Emmrich doesn't get burdened by people reacting to him and his sincere intention to help with fear, because of all the sinister rumors revolving around necromancers and Nevarra. He isn't hurt by people assuming that he loves death and things dying. If even he openly admitted that he is deeply terrified of death, they wouldn't have believed him.

Harding isn't burdened by the revelation she learned and what to do with it. Should she storm her way to the Orzammar? Should she talk to fellow surface dwarves and reconnect them with their history? Should she never breach the subject because the truth hurts and it's too much pain, too much anger to live with - and maybe she shouldn't let other dwarves go through it?

We don't even have a party divided on what to do with Solas (kill or talk it out)? Even though it's logical to have companions who are convinced that Solas has to die and those who think that he is misguided and can be convinced to stop.

Also, there are NO companions whose background, viewpoints and attitude would rile other companions up. We have no controversial characters whose interactions with the crew Rook would have been forced to intervene in unless they want their team to start throwing hands with each other.

We could have had Imshael - to give EVERYONE a reason to worry, and argue, and have conflicts. We could have had an ex-Venatori Calpernia bashing heads with Neve, Bellara, and Emrich. We could have had a Qunari spy who'd make Lucanis' dagger-arm itch.

If writers didn't forget about the Architect, we could have had an intelligent Darkspawn companion Davrin could be losing his shit around.

Or heck, we could have had a former red templar who got partially (magically?) reversed from their mad state and is now not a mindless beast, but still is on a borrowed time, probably needed due to their strength, but barely tolerated by anyone.

Who is fanatical, mostly because they have to believe they made a noble sacrifice, that it all was for the greater good -- because the truth scares them to their core. Who gives Lucanis shit for being an assassin and abomination, who bashes necromancy, and mages, and talks about purity, while downplaying their own actions as "Yes, these are my sins, but they are for the better world, and I would be proud to die for that world unlike you heathens who would rather ruin it than repent for your flaws". The kind of companion you'd initially want to do nothing with, but who can reveal an entire gallery of fucked up contradictions and trauma if you decide to keep them around.

However, writing such companions takes skill, courage, and requires absence of greedy corpo "we don't want to scare away new players with all that moral nuance" thinking.

[13uswntimagines]

Safe Harbor II (Alessia Russo X Singer!R)

Request: R and Alessia go to an award show, and just how they handle the whole public outing

Warnings: There are definitely some D/s undertones (and overtones) in this fic. The use of Daddy. Light Smut- not super descriptive, but it's there.

Author's note: This universe is super fun, and I'm going to keep writing in it. Let me know what you'd like to see. I really wanted to explore the difference between when r is submitting and when she isn't because I think the dynamic is fun. There are also a bunch of references to Sunset Boulevard because I love the musical and I think some of the things are fitting.

You sighed, fidgeting with the bow tie that defiantly remained crooked no matter how many times you tugged at it, trying to ignore the city lights glittering off the mirror that took up the entire wall. 

It was gaudy, and unnecessarily flashy in your opinion. Something you would never want in your own home, despite how… useful your stylist claimed it was. You supposed it did have its place, here in the world you did your best to avoid. 

The one you only tolerated because it let you do the thing you loved. 

The one the character you play was far more…comfortable in. 

You blew out another breath, undoing the silky material around your neck and letting it hang over limply across your shoulders. 

It wasn’t that you were… ungrateful. 

You were not. 

You understood how lucky you were. You appreciated the fans more than you could put into words. 

You just didn’t appreciate being paraded around like a circus animal for everyone’s enjoyment. Or an exotic creature to be gawked at. 

It felt like they owned you most of the time now. Like you were just a marionette dancing at the behest of someone else. Your life had turned into a performance. 

That’s pretty much all award shows were. 

Behind the glamorous veneer, they were filled with hollow conversations and forced smiles. While some genuine people like Taylor and Kelsea attended, there was a reason it was called a snake pit. 

It was why you detested them so much, and why you did your best to get out of them. 

Your manager, Pepper, had been very clear though. There was no getting out of this one. Not when you would be the first-ever recipient of the American Music Awards Horizons Award. 

“Let me,”

You blinked at the voice that appeared behind you, and the hands that landed heavy on your shoulders. They relaxed instantly under her touch. 

You hadn’t realized you were staring at yourself in the mirror. 

You dragged your eyes away from the polished version of your form to meet Alessia’s in the mirror. 

There was understanding in the depth of her blue. They made you feel naked, despite the dark blue shirt and silver vest that clung to you. 

She saw beneath the glossy shell of your character. She always had, and you had faith that she always would. 

She tugged gently on the silvery tie laying across your shoulders, the ring that perfectly matched it glinting off of the sharp hotel lights. 

You frowned at the ring, large and gaudy with a rock that sent flashes of light across the room with every movement of her hand. It was not the thin silver band you had slipped on after she said yes. 

You supposed you should be happy that she would keep the real one private between the two of you. Something the fans couldn’t have. 

Still. 

You let out another breath as the tie slid from your skin, and she used gentle pressure to turn you to face her. 

“You’re overthinking this,” She said when your eyes met hers again, as she used a finger to tilt your chin up. 

You hummed at the feeling of her hands brushing your neck in familiar movements, and the careful pressure of the tie. 

You didn't have to voice your thoughts for her to understand, not that you could form coherent words at this moment. 

It was always a… weird headspace for you, the space in between who you were, and who the world expected you to be.

What was making it harder tonight was that it would be the first time Alessia walked with you down the red carpet. Your stylist even had you in matching outfits, as if your arm around her wasn’t enough of an indicator that you were together. 

The whole thing made it nearly impossible to separate the different parts of yourself. 

“Take a deep breath for me,” Alessia said calmly, tightening the silky material around your neck, her gaze never wavering. 

She took an exaggerated inhale, and you did your best to mimic her, your pulse slowing automatically, the gentle lingering of her hands in your skin grounding you with her. 

“You’re not usually this wound for things like this,” She said, her voice soft, curious, but unwilling to push you like she normally would. 

“Sorry,” You mumbled, gaining strength from her steady hands. “I’m just. Sometimes I feel like I’m a piece in someone else’s game. It’s like they own me. I don’t want them to own you too, even though I know your fans are nearly as bad.” 

You could already see the tweets now, talking about the stunning blue dress she was in, and how it perfectly coordinated with the dark blue lapels of your suit jacket. 

They would dissect every interaction between the two of you, from how your hand rested on her waist to every look the two of you shared. 

Alessia’s eyes softened, as she finished the knot of your tie, tightening it just enough so you could feel it, but not enough that it cut off your air. 

It was comforting in a… strange way. Grounding like the collar you wore when the two of you were alone, or the bracelet that was always a part of your wardrobe, no matter how poorly it matched your outfit. 

“I know,” She said finally, and there was something more intimate in the words than the flashy hotel room deserved. Something deep, that belonged only to the two of you. “But they can’t own what they don’t understand,”

Her hands left the tie, moving up to cup your cheeks gently, carefully of the makeup your artist, Pamela, had all but forced on you. “They can’t own what they can’t see,” 

You made a low sound at the implication. 

It was why she was wearing a giant rock on her finger instead of the band you had gotten her. 

They could have that part of her and you, but they couldn’t have this one. 

“They don’t get to own who we are.” Alessia finished, leaning in and placing a very gentle kiss on your lips. “Remind me who you are,” 

You blinked at the feeling of her breath on your lips. 

“I’m Y/n Y/l/n,”

She hummed, kissing you again. “But who are you?”

A shiver ran down your spine at the order. At the reminder of the parts of yourself that she always held like they were precious and fragile. The parts she was fiercely protective of. 

Because even if this… facade belonged to your fans, the parts that really mattered were hers. 

“I’m yours,” You said, the words barely audible in the space between you. “Im yours, always,”

“Exactly,” She hummed, running a thumb gently over the skin below your eye. “And I’m yours too, no matter what ring Selena and Barbra decide to have me wear,”

You made a low sound, coming from deep in your chest, as the final tendrils of tension left your form at her reminder. 

Your relationship wasn’t a one-way street, though that’s what some people would assume if they knew about your dynamic. But the truth was that it was equally give and take. You supported each other and did things together. 

She was as much yours as you were hers. 

It still made you feel warm to hear her say it though. 

You leaned in and placed another kiss on her lips. “Don’t hold anything that happens tonight against me please,”

You didn’t add her title to the end of the sentence, despite how much you longed to. You knew if you did, you would never be able to leave the hotel room. You wouldn’t be able to paint on the face of a superstar. 

“Nothing within reason,” She smirked, pulling away from you. “I know you have a show to put on, but the rules still stand,”

You nodded, knowing that the rules always stood, no matter the setting. 

“Alright, lovebirds.” Your publicist, Tony, said, entering the room with a clap. “Your car is here, and Stevie is getting anxious about the paparazzi out front.”

“We’ll be there in just a moment,” Alessia said, her eyes and her steadying grip never leaving you. 

Tony huffed at the dismissal, settling down on the white sheets of the full bed closest to the bathroom. 

You rolled your eyes, stepping out of Alessia’s grip and grabbing your suit jacket. “You don’t have to babysit us,”

Tony made a low sound. “The last time I left you two alone in a hotel room before an award show you missed the Red Carpet, and Steve made sure I couldn’t sit for a week. I’m not taking a chance this time,”

You slipped the jacket over your shoulders, an easy smirk taking over your features. “It’s not my fault Ms. Kyle and Ms. Gordon always pick an outfit that makes Ms. Russo look so… delectable,”

Alessia couldn’t help but giggle, catching your hand. 

Tony didn’t need to know that she was the reason you hadn’t left for the VMAs on time. That the red and black suit you had worn made you too irresistible. 

“Whatever,” Tony huffed, pushing himself to his feet and leading you to the main room where your security, publicist, and team were waiting for you. 

And as you stepped out, you felt the mask of who you were expected to be slipping firmly into place, whether you wanted it to or not. 

******

You supposed you should be used to the cheering. The screams that followed you everywhere you went. 

The volume still surprised you as the dark SUV pulled up to the beginning of the red carpet, stopping so your door was positioned between two thick, red velvet ropes. 

“Ready?” Alessia asked, gently squeezing your hand. 

You hummed, glancing out the window towards the growing crowd, and the men dressed in dark clothing trying to hold them back. 

“As I’ll ever be,” You said, your voice taking on a quality that didn’t exist in your regular speech. 

You closed your eyes for just a second, taking a steadying breath before you grabbed the door handle and pushed open the door. 

The wall of sound that met you was indescribable, and the million-dollar smile you were known for came easily to your lips. 

You waved toward the crowd of screaming fans, and turned back to the car, extending your hand to help your fiancé out. 

Her fingers were warm as they wrapped around yours, and squeezed gently. 

It was a gesture that would go unseen by the blinding flashes behind you. One that was just yours. 

The fans only got louder as she emerged, her dark blue dress flowing across her curves, complementing the sharp lines of your suit. 

You wrapped your free arm around her waist to steady her, never letting go of her hand. 

“Such a gentlewoman,” Alessia said, her voice just barely audible over the squealing fans and the clicking cameras. 

Your signature smirk got wider, your eyes glinting in the camera flashes. 

“Only for you my darling,” You said in your best impression of Gloria Swanson in Sunset Boulevard, your smirk softening when Alessia giggled. “Shall we?”

“Lead the way,” She agreed, leaning in and placing a careful kiss on your cheek. 

The crowd responded immediately, cheering as though it was more than just a kiss on your cheek. You could already see the tweets and Reddit boards looking at every microexpression.  

You hummed, shaking your head, feeling the heat in your skin where her lips had touched you. It centered you as you stepped into the onslaught of people held back only by tiny velvet ropes and security. 

The fans and the paparazzi only got louder as you finally took your first steps on the red carpet. It was like standing too close to a speaker. The cacophony of sound vibrated in your chest, and voices blended together into indistinguishable mush. 

Flashes burned your retinas, never stopping despite you not being in paparazzi ally yet. 

You wished Tony would put up a no flash photography sign for you like they did at the zoo. He would probably laugh and remind you that the circus made no such exceptions for their animals. 

What was worse is that you were used to it. Your face was a commodity to be bought and sold, your attention probably garnering enough cash to last someone for the month. 

You easily navigated the carpet, following Tony as your security buffered you from the public from behind. 

The fans were too far back for you to interact with (you waved anyway, flashing them charming smiles), and you didn’t mind Steve, Clint, Loki, and Thor blocking any cameramen from getting butt shots as you approached the alley line with little Xs. 

You had a split second to breathe while the paparazzi focused on Hayley hitting the final X with Josh before one of the workers held up a sign with your name, and the yelling re-started. 

“Y/n, Alessia this way please,” The attendant said, directing you to the first x. 

You wrapped your arm around Alessia’s waist, pulling her close to you as you took the spot they wanted. You painted your famous million-dollar smile across your features and unwillingly dragged your eyes away from Alessia. 

The barrage of camera flashes was overwhelming, and the calls for your name blended together in a cacophony that would deafen even the most narcissistic of people. 

“Y/n to your left,”

“How about a kiss?”

“Alessia on your right,”

“Show us that ring,”

Your smile turned slightly more cocky, as Alessia’s left hand found the center of your chest, flashing the rock on her finger as she leaned in and pressed a kiss on your cheek. 

It was different than the private one you had shared. 

The kiss just spurred you on, your eyes twinkling with amusement as Tony gestured for you to move to the next X. You caught Alessia’s hand on your chest, bringing it to your lips, seamlessly showing off the expensive ring on her finger before you guided her to the next spot, your fingers running gently over the embroidery on the silky material of her dress. 

“Y/n here please!” The photographers yelled as you got set, and you tired your famous smirk toward the sound. 

“Alright Mr. Demil, I’m ready for my closeup,” you winked at the cameras as the clicking rapidly picked up, and you heard several chuckles from behind the cameras. 

Alessia also chucked from beside you, resting her hand on the center of your chest as the two of you posed again. Your arm tightened around her waist, your fingers tapping her hip gently just out of the view of the cameras. 

The two of you stood there for another long second, looking every bit the power couple you were portraying, before Tony gestured for you to move to the x. 

You squeezed her hip as she turned, leaning close to her ear. “Least I didn’t have to murder anyone to get their attention,” 

“No,” Alessia agreed with another giggle, aware that her response was visible to the crowd. “I guess that’s what happens when you’re a pop star instead of an old silent movie actor. Though your acting is quite good,”

You grinned widely, as you made it to the final X and she turned to face you. “It’s easy when I have you on my arm,” 

She hummed, a bit of red spotting her cheeks, and your grin turned quite wolfish as you tightened your arm around her to draw her closer for the final set of photos. 

“You’re just so ravishing,” You said, far enough away that you knew the cameras would capture it. “Isn’t she?”

You directed the last question at the men behind the cameras, and the clicking of the cameras increased. You didn’t add that their chuckles and cheering didn’t bother you because you knew that Alessia was yours as much as you were hers. 

Alessia hummed again, having expected you to do that. You were never shy with your admiration when you were in public. 

You leaned close to her ear again. “So ravishing that I can’t wait to eat you up,”

“I might just give you a chance later,” She laughed, pushing your chest very lightly. You pulled back with another cheeky grin, wiggling your eyebrows. 

“Alright lovebirds, that’s enough,” Tony said after several seconds, stepping in between you and the cameras, and gesturing you off the final X as the cameras all turned to whoever was going to be taking the alley behind you. “Reporter Row is next, but you only have to make a couple of stops so you’re not late to your seats,”

“Just Call Her Daddy and the slow-mo guy right?” You asked as you guided Alessia to a part of the carpet between 2 walls, hidden from view, and your security team created a little pocket around you. “And I want to say hello to the fans,” 

“Yes,” Tony nodded, looking over his shoulder at the line of media outlets standing less than 3 feet apart from each other. “I’ll keep the rest away from you.”

You swallowed hard and nodded once, leaning into Alessia’s hand that was still on your chest for a long second. 

It didn’t matter how many times you participated in Red carpets, how many times you were trotted around like a show pony in this parade of excess, it never got any less overwhelming. 

You took a deep breath before you let Tony guide you forward, your million-dollar smile taking over your features once more. 

You waved at the reporters as Tony directed you past them, only stopping for the slow-motion camera (dipping Alessia in the photo) before you were standing in front of Alex Cooper. 

“And here is the couple that everyone is talking about. You both look absolutely stunning,” She said, smiling too widely with an easy wave of her hand. “how does it feel to be here at the AMAs,” 

“Thanks, It’s great,”  you matched the expression, tightening your arm around Alessia’s waist. “The fans have been amazing so far and I’m very excited to get to see the performances tonight. Plus any time I get to spend with my gorgeous fiancé is amazing,” 

You winked at the camera and placed a very sweet kiss on Alessia’s cheek. Both women giggled, and Alessia ran her thumb over the back of your hand. 

“And you’re receiving the very first Horizons Award,” Alex pushed on, knowing she had a very limited time with you. 

You nodded, your expression turning serious. “I’m very very honored, though I think the spotlight should really go to the people doing the hard work like folks at the Trevor Project and GLAAD,” 

Alex nodded. “You’re also performing tonight. Any spoilers you can give?” 

You hated how quickly she moved on from the topic you actually cared about. The topic that could actually help other people. 

But you didn’t show it on your face. Instead, you let your features turn mischievous, meeting Tony's eyes off to the side. “You know I don’t like to give away my secrets,” 

It was a silent signal that you could handle this yourself. That the slight podding wasn’t an invasion you needed him to deal with. 

Alex chuckled, holding her little microphone out to Alessia. “What about you Alessia, anything you can say?” 

“I actually haven’t seen it yet, but I’m sure it’ll be fantastic,” Alessia said and you turned your entire attention to her. 

You were sure that there would be memes of the way your expression immediately softened, or how she had all of your attention the second she spoke, but you didn’t care. 

Alex shook her head in mock disappointment. “Well, I’ll let you two go, good luck tonight,” 

You blinked back toward Alex, smiling brightly once again. “Thanks,” 

Then you let Tony guide you away, keeping a protective hand on Alessia’s waist as you headed towards the arena, and you felt your shoulders relax. 

The hardest part of the night was over. 

*****

You released a breath you didn’t know you were holding when you made it to your seats in the front row, with Haylee and Josh on your right and Taylor and Travis on your left. 

You supposed they wanted to keep all of the footballers together so they had something to talk about while their significant others were stuck being exhibited on stage. 

“What’s your color?” Alessia asked, gently squeezing your knee as the show went to commercial break. 

You hummed at the all too familiar, catching her hand and intertwining your fingers. So far the show had been… bearable.

There were a couple of good performances, and you had won 3 awards. There were also minimal jokes from the host directed at you and your fiancé, which you appreciated. 

You were feeling good. You were feeling in control. 

“Green. Are you enjoying the show?” you asked, leaning in close to her in case one of the online fan cams was trained at you. 

She nodded. “The performances have been very good. I really liked Luke’s,”

You grinned wider. Luke Combs had done a mashup of Beautiful Crazy and Forever After All, both of which were songs that you had helped pen. “It’s funny you’re marrying me when you're such a sap for country music,”

Taylor gasped to your left, leaning around Travis to playfully glare at you. “Are you making fun of country music over there?” 

You turned a mischievous smirk on her. “No. I would never,”

She rolled her eyes dramatically at you. “Pop music is just glorified county you know?” 

And you couldn’t help but smile at the pompous tone. 

“Maybe country music is just slow pop music,” You shrugged, matching her tone. 

“I’m confused by what’s happening,” Travis said over your head towards Alessia. “Do they do this frequently?”

Alessia couldn't hold her giggle anymore. “Since they met. You would think that neither of them writes country music,” 

“Oh,” Travis said, turning a slight shade of pink. 

This wasn’t your first time meeting him, but it was his first time attending one of these with Taylor, and you could tell he was nervous. 

You leaned back into Alessia’s side, just as the lights flashed, indicating that the show would be back in 30 seconds. “I’m glad you liked Luke’s performance,” 

“And I’m going to love yours too,” She said, and you made a low sound. 

You were most nervous about what she would think of what you had planned. The performance that you had been working on for weeks. 

Her opinion was the only one that mattered to you after all. 

The lights flashed again, in the 10-second warning and Tony materialized in front of you. “Hey kid, I need to steal you,” 

“Go be amazing,” Alessia said softly, pushing you gently to your feet. 

You sighed, eyes darting back to you when she gently tapped your ass as you stood, and she looked the picture of innocence. 

Travis was coughing to hold in his laugh from the other side, and Taylor was smirking. 

You rolled your eyes and let Tony drag you away, though Taylor did catch your eye as you left, sending you an easy nod. 

At least you knew that Alessia would be entertained while you were gone. 

*****

Alessia could understand why you despised award shows as much as you did. 

You had disappeared 45 minutes ago, and your seat had been filled by a random stranger only there to make the arena look full. There were more commercials than performances or actual show. 

Though it was nice to talk to Taylor and Travis, it was inherently boring and slightly unnerving because of all of the cameras. 

The announcer kept mentioning that you were coming up or up next, and really Alessia didn’t think anyone needed more suspense. 

And then Taylor was whisked away by Tree, and the lights were flashing, and she knew that it was finally time. 

Taylor stepped out onto the stage with a brilliant smile, walking to the front. 

“As artists, we have incredible platforms. We have fans that stretch around the globe, and our next performer has gone above and beyond to give each and every one of them a voice,” Taylor said. “From raising more than 600 million dollars for charities like the Trevor Project to granting more wishes this year than anyone else, all well releasing an album that stood at number one for a record 29 consecutive weeks, she is the embodiment of what a star should be. That is why she is this year’s recipient of the Horizons Award. I’m honored to welcome my friend, Y/n Y/l/n,”

The stage shifted, the side Taylor was on was going dark while the curtain lifted on the other, revealing you standing in a spotlight. 

You weren’t dressed in the suit she had last seen you in. Instead, you were in a white shirt, suspenders, and Khakis, and you were barefoot. 

You took a big deep breath, your shoulders moving with it as the opening piano notes of the song started, and Alessia felt her own breath catch in her throat. 

It was when the party’s over.

You looked up at the crowd and started to sing. 

At first, Alessia thought that this was going to be the performance. Just raw and painful. Completely vulnerable. 

But off to the side, another spotlight shined, showing a dark-haired woman in a white flowy dress that had yellow around the bottom, matching your kakies. She danced towards you, the dress billowing around her ankles as she twirled. 

She touched your shoulder and you melted into her, catching her hand and beginning to dance. 

Alessia’s breath caught. The world had never seen you dance before. Not like this. 

There was a lot of push and pull. Moments where the dancer would hold you close and others where she would shove you away. With every movement, your perfectly pressed clothing became disheveled, one suspender dropping, several buttons of your shirt coming undone and your always immaculate hair going very messy. 

The two of you flowed together in a beautiful story of pain and disappointment. 

It was… indescribable, and Alessia and the entire arena were entranced. 

She could feel herself leaning forward as you got to the bridge. 

You twirled the dancer, pulling her close so your foreheads touched and your lips were nearly brushing. It was intimate and stunning, but Alessia didn’t feel jealous. 

Let’s just let it go

Let me let you go

You breathed heavily, the sound echoing around the arena, as everything stopped. 

Quiet when I’m coming home and I’m on my own

The dancer pulled backward, walking away from you, and you left your arm out, fingers stretched as she disappeared off stage as if you were calling her back. 

Suddenly you were alone again, stuck in the spotlight. 

And I could lie, say I like it like that, like it like that

Your voice faded out and the stage went dark.

Everything was silent for a long second before the crowd erupted around her, people pushing themselves to their feet as the lights came back on. You ran your hand through your messy hair, pushing it back as you bowed to the standing ovation. Your eyes roamed the crowd, finally landing in Alessia. 

Your head tilted at her in acknowledgment, like you were asking ‘What’d ya think?’ in the stupid southern accent you sometimes affected to make her laugh. She nodded. 

Words could not describe how proud she was.

Her chest welled up with pride. With awe until it was practically overflowing. She felt lucky that she knew you. That she got to love you. Even the parts of you that you didn’t like to talk about. 

She sent you a kiss, and you caught it, sliding it into your pocket with a wink. And then with a blink, the mask of your character was sliding back into place as your fingers briefly ran over the braided bracelet that never left your wrist. 

Taylor approached you with a crystal trophy, passing it to you with a hug and words only you could hear whispered in your ear. 

You nodded as you pulled away, saying something back with a cheeky smile. Alessia knew there would be lip readers all over TiK Tok later trying to decipher the exchange. 

And then you turned back to the audience, looking out over the crowd like you were royalty surveying your kingdom, your eyes twinkling as they continued their ruckus applause. 

You waited another long second before you held up the crystal trophy reminiscent of how Alessia had helped hoist the Euros trophy, before you took another bow and then were gone, disappearing backstage with Taylor. 

She wasn’t sure how you got out of your speech, but she guessed Tony would release one for you later.

“That was fucking incredible,” Travis said as they retook their seats. “How does she sing that high and dance at the same time?”

Alessia dragged her eyes away from where you had disappeared. “She does a lot of breath training,”

Travis nodded like that answer was sufficient, just as Tony appeared in front of them again. 

“Do you want to go backstage? I'm not sure if Y/n will be coming back out,” He said softly. “The show is almost over anyway,”

She met his gaze, seeing the message that he hadn’t said out loud. The worry hidden in brown eyes. It was familiar in a slightly unnerving way. 

You were always the consummate professional, brushing off concern with ease and navigating situations that put you on edge without a hair out of place. 

You would push through because that is what the Hollywood machine expected from you, even in your most vulnerable moments, and no one would know the difference. 

You were excellent at pretending until you weren’t. 

She knew from just one look that one of two things had happened: you had asked him to come get her or he had seen you struggling and done it himself. 

“Sure,” She said, letting him help her up. “It was nice meeting you,”

She directed it toward Travis who nodded in return.

“Taylor should be out in a few minutes,” Tony said toward the man before he led her away. 

She didn’t look back to see his response, staying very close to Tony as he led her out of the row. 

Clint took up her back the second they made it to the aisle. 

She didn’t ask Tony if you were ok, though she wanted to. She would just have to wait and see for herself. 

******

Your fingers curled against the wooden counter of the makeshift vanity, as you leaned all of your weight forward. 

You closed your eyes and did your best to focus on your breathing. 

You were ok. 

It didn’t make sense for you not to be. 

Your performance had gone off without a hitch. You had accepted your award and not made yourself look like a total idiot. 

So why was there a boa constrictor around your lungs?

Maybe it was how claustrophobic the little changing room they had given you was. Maybe it was the fake smiles and handshakes you had received from everyone except for Taylor.

You tried to pull in more oxygen, but it felt like you were sucking air through a straw. 

You shook your head, forcing your eyes to meet themselves in the mirror (adamantly ignoring the gleaming award sitting next to you), knuckles turning white as you tried to ground yourself in the moment. 

They were wide, terrified with pupils blown wide like you had taken too much of your ADHD medication. 

What the fuck was happening to you?

You tried to force another breath through your lungs, sucking in deeply through your nose and pushing it out your mouth. 

It shouldn’t be this hard. 

You didn’t even blink when the curtain that separated your small changing room from the hallway was slowly pulled aside. 

You didn’t have to. You already knew that the only person Steve and Natasha would let through was your fiancé. 

“Hey,” She said, stepping up behind you and placing a very careful hand on your shoulder. “Tell me your color,”

Her voice was soft but twinged with the edge of command that never failed to make you melt. She wasn’t asking you where you were at, she was ordering you to tell her. 

It took a moment for the question to filter past the roaring in your ears, and the rapid beating of your heart. It took another for you to assess what you were feeling. 

You knew you could just say yellow, the blanket term for caution, but you also knew you had a plethora of other options. Ones that reached past the traditional stoplight system to be more descriptive. Ones that made it easier to put your emotions into words- something you had always struggled with. 

You swallowed hard, reaching for a color that you hardly ever used outside of the bedroom, and even then you had only used it once. “Orange, I think,” 

Alessia’s hand tightened on your shoulder, but her expression didn’t change. 

Orange meant anxious. More than anxious really. It meant trapped. Too confined. Too constricted. 

It meant on the wrong edge of panic, but not far enough gone to be red. 

“Ok,” She said, her voice even, calm. A complete contrast to how you felt. “Can I come closer?”

It was probably a strange question considering that the changing room was so small that she had to be within a foot of you to be inside, but you appreciated the thought (likely born from the last time where you had pulled the quick-release cord on the rope harness Alessia had crafted and hadn’t wanted any contact for almost an hour). 

You nodded. 

You wanted her touch. You craved it, and a part of you knew it would be the only thing that would help you breathe again. 

“Words my little one,” Alessia prompted you softly. 

You nodded again. “Yes, please,”

She moved immediately, dragging her hand across your shoulders as she stepped behind you, and down your arm to rest on your wrist just above your bracelet while the other slid across your abs. You didn’t even remember undoing your shirt. 

Her chin hooked over your shoulder as she pulled you back into her, pressing her lips very gently to the skin under your ear. 

“Breathe with me,” She said, taking an exaggerated breath in, her chest expanding against your back. 

You did your best to copy her, even if it made your chest ache. 

It took several minutes, but eventually your stuttered, shaking breaths steadied, and you relaxed in her arms. 

“Good girl,” She hummed when she felt you settle into her, placing a very gentle kiss by your ear. “Better?” 

“Better,” You agreed. “Thank you,”

“Always,” She said, her fingers tapping gently on your abs. “Your performance was incredible by the way. I’m so proud of you,”

“Really?” You asked, your voice going soft, and an insecurity you didn’t let anyone by Alessia see creeping into your tone. 

“Yes,” She promised, her lips tickling your ear. “You were spectacular. You had everyone on the edge of their seats, including me,”

You leaned back into her, your head tilting to give her more room. “Thank you,”

It could be considered strange sometimes, how your need for physical touch changed after anxious moments. How sometimes you shied away from it and needed space to ground yourself. Other times you needed it desperately to bring yourself back down to earth. 

It could be considered strange how…quickly you could go from one end of the spectrum to the other. But it had always been that way.

You could tell that she was trying to gauge your mood by the way her hand splayed low on your stomach, shifting just enough so her pinky was brushing the waist of your khakis. Silently asking if you needed more contact. 

Your breath caught in your throat as her lips turned to your exposed neck, her teeth gently grazing the skin. 

“What is your color,” She asked you seriously, and you held in your groan at the tone. 

“I’m ok,” You said, fighting to keep your voice even, and your body still (one of the rules that existed when the two of you did things like this). “Want more,”

She hummed, but her hand didn’t move and her lips completely detached from your neck. “That isn’t what I asked you. Tell me your color,”

You met her eyes in the mirror, a shiver running down your spine at the icy blue you found there. 

You knew what she was really asking you. 

It wasn’t just about if you wanted to go farther. She was making sure you were still present. That you were there enough to consent. That you weren’t just doing what you thought she wanted you to do. 

You swallowed, working through what you were feeling, rolling through the more descriptive menu of colors you had to choose from. 

“Amber,” You decided. One of the colors that was in between green and yellow. The one that told her you couldn’t deal with anything heavy or teasing, but that you were coherent and most importantly able to consent. 

She hummed, her lips returning to your neck, and her hand glided further down your abs. “That’s what I thought too,” 

You couldn’t stop the low groan that left your lips when her hand slid past the waist of your Khakis, or when her thumb began to toy with the hem of your boxers. 

“You did so well tonight, my little one,” She said into your ear. “I’m so proud of you. Let me take care of you now,”

You let your head fall back completely on her shoulder, as her hand finally dipped into your boxers and her teeth gently joined her lips at the sweet spot on your neck. 

Her fingers were gentle as they walked down the front of your groin until they landed between your lower lips. 

She didn’t immediately go for your clit, choosing to dip lower between your legs instead. 

A shiver went down your spine when she ran through you, making a low sound just below your ear. 

“You’re wet,” She said, the words tickling your ear. “Is this for me, little one?”

You swallowed hard. “Always for you,”

Her teeth nipped at your ear. “For who?”

“You Daddy,” You murmured. “Always for you,”

It was true. You had been ready for her as soon as you saw her in her dress. 

Selena and Barbra knew that blue was your favorite color on her because of how it brought out her eyes. They knew you were obsessed with the feeling of silk and satin. 

They had known what they were doing when they chose your outfits, and not just in the sense of what the fans would think. 

She hummed, her fingers slowly dragging through you. “And to think all of those people out there think it’s for them,”

“Not for them,” You said, shaking slightly as a finger slipped inside. “Your daddy,”

“I know,” She agreed, her voice soft, soothing despite the harshness of her teeth on the soft skin of your neck, no doubt leaving a dark mark you would have to cover later. 

Or maybe you wouldn’t cover it. 

That was a decision that could be made later. 

“You performed so well. You’re so good,” Alessia repeated, as she finally began to move, a second finger joining the first after only a few thrusts. “Now let daddy reward you,”

She shifted so her palm grazed your clit with every movement as she picked up the pace. 

The pressure was perfect but it wasn’t enough, even with her fingers curling against your inner walls. 

As if reading your thoughts, Alessia’s free hand moved. It trailed up your arm to under your chin, cupping your neck, the warm metal of her ring pressing into your skin. 

She didn’t apply enough pressure to cut off your air, just enough for you to know her hand was there. Enough for the pressure to ground you. To prove that she was there. 

You sucked in a sharp breath, melting back into her. 

“That’s it, my good girl,” Alessia crooned, her mouth never leaving the abused skin just under your ear. “You’re doing so well for me,”

You were good. 

You were doing well.

You could feel yourself rising higher, the coil in your tummy pulling tighter. You knew what was coming, the sweet release that would wipe every thought from your brain. 

“Please,” You breathed out, feeling a smile curl on the lips against your neck. 

She hummed as if considering the request. 

The rational part of your brain knew that she wouldn’t string you along like she sometimes loved to do, not with the color you had given. The rational part of your brain knew she wouldn’t ruin the orgasm threatening to crash over you like she enjoyed when you were both bored at events. 

She wouldn’t make you wait when neither of you had agreed to play a game tonight. 

But the rational part of your brain wasn’t in control right now. 

“Cum for me little one,” She said after a long second, her pace never changing, the hand on your throat squeezing just a bit. 

But that was all it took. 

Your eyes rolled back in your head, and you felt the hand on your neck move to form a seal over your lips, stopping any sound from leaving you. 

Alessia kept up her movements, working you through your orgasm, and supporting your weight as you went nearly boneless against her. 

“Good girl,” She said, slowing her hands as the final aftershocks rocked through you. “Always my good girl,”

You groaned low, your eyes opening to meet her smoldering blue in the mirror and her hand fell away. “Say it again please,”

“You are my good girl,” She repeated, keeping eye contact with you, carefully removing her hand from your core. “And I’m so proud of you,”

She brought her fingers to your lips, and you accepted them without question, sucking greedily at her skin until it was clean.

She pulled them from your lips with a chuckle. “I take it you’re feeling better?”

“Yes,” You agreed, leaning back into her. “I don’t know what happened. I got off stage and it was like I couldn’t breathe,”

“Well, you went from a very emotional performance, which was breathtaking by the way, to winning a massive award,” Alessia reasoned gently. “That’s a lot of emotional bandwidth to handle,”

You made a low noise. “It’s always coming down that’s the hardest,”

“I know,” Alessia hummed, kissing very gently just below your ear.

“You helped,” You continued.

“I will always help you,” Alessia promised fiercely, and you believed her. “Are you ready to get changed so we can get out of here?”

You nodded. “Yeah.”

But you made no move to leave her arms.

You were too comfortable to move, wrapped in her safety, and she let you stay there for a few more minutes before she carefully unbuttoned the two buttons left on your shirt, and did the zipper on your pants. 

You didn’t remember her unbuttoning those, but then again you were a bit… distracted. 

She pulled away as she dragged the shirt from your shoulders, dropping it unceremoniously on the makeshift table next to your Horizons award. You slid your pants down and turned to face her. 

“Selena dropped off my after outfit,” You gestured towards the garnet bag sitting in the chair behind her. 

Alessia undid the zipper, pulling out another blue suit, this one more plain than the first.

“I think she knew how this night would end,” Alessia said, passing you the extra pair of boxers Selena also included in the bag. 

You hummed, swapping the boxers. “Perhaps we’re getting too predictable,”

“Or our stylists just know us too well,” Alessia countered, holding out a black button-down for you. You slipped your arms through the sleeves and stepped closer to her so she could do up the little snaps. “And changing our… routine doesn’t exactly appeal to me,” 

“Me neither,” you agreed, taking the pants when she was finished and thanking the universe that there was elastic around the waist. You tucked your shirt into them and pulled on the dark blue vest that matched. “Will you help with the tie?”

“Of course,” Alessia rolled her eyes, pulling the blue silk out of the garment bag. “Come here my love,”

Your nose scrunched involuntarily at the nickname she had chosen, but you straightened and stepped closer to her.

“What’s with the face?” She asked, lips ticking up as she placed the tie around your neck. 

You shrugged, looking away slightly, red bleeding into your cheeks. “I like the other nickname better,”

“Which one?” She questioned, using a thumb to move your chin so you were looking at her again. “My little one or my good girl,”

A shiver ran down your spine as she repeated the nickname. 

It wasn’t the one she usually went to, because you didn’t usually enjoy it. But tonight was different. 

Something about it felt… right. 

“Ah,” Alessia said, reading your expression. “Keep your chin up so I can do your tie, my good girl,”

You let out a low sound but kept your chin tilted up. 

It only took her a second to do the knot, straightening the bow so it was centered. “There, good as new, and gorgeous as ever,”

The red on your cheeks bled down your neck and up toward your ears. “Thank you,”

“Always, my good girl,” She said, leaning in and pressing a quick kiss to your lips. “Do you want the jacket too?”

You shook your head. “Why don’t you wear it? It’ll look smashing with your dress,”

“It is a bit chilly in the hall,” Alessia reasoned, and you leaned around her to grab the soft material, holding it for her. 

She turned and you draped it over her shoulders. 

“Perfect,” You murmured, your fingers lingering on her shoulders.

There was something incredibly sexy about seeing her draped in something that was yours. You wondered if this was how she felt when she saw you wearing the braided bracelet (or your collar), or when she wrapped you in intricate knots or left dark bruises just under your chin. 

It was how you felt when you saw the real ring on her finger. 

“Enjoying the view?” Alessia asked, raising a perfect eyebrow at you. 

You blinked at her, not realizing she had turned to face you again. More heat joined the flush already in your cheeks.

“Always,” You said, your eyes crinkling with your smile. “You’re still as ravishing as ever,” 

“Let’s go before we end up here all night,” Alessia hummed, holding her hand out for you. “You might want to run your hand through your hair,”

“I think it’s adequately messy,” You shrugged. “The fans will enjoy every hair being perfectly out of place, and I’m going to put on a beanie once we get to the car,”

“Wouldn’t want them to see your favorite disguise,” Alessia said, as you took her hand. 

You wiggled your eyebrows. “No. Then I wouldn’t be able to sneak into arsenal games undetected,”

“You mean it wouldn’t allow you to get mobbed at games because your disguise is never good enough for general admission,” Alessia corrected, moving toward the curtain of the dressing room. 

“That was once,” You huffed. Alessia raised her eyebrow at you.

“Fine, twice,” You conceded with a wave of your free hand as she pulled you out of the changing room. 

“Try 6,” Tony said, as soon as you stepped into the bustling hallway. 

You didn’t ask how he knew what you were talking about. You didn’t have to. 

You knew your privacy wasn’t really private. Especially not here, even if you wanted to pretend it was. 

“More like 8,” Steve intoned, stepping away from his spot guarding the entrance to the little makeshift room. “You have a bad habit of ending up in places you shouldn’t be without enough security,”

You shrugged. “Yelena and Natasha are plenty,”

“Together, yes,” Steve sighed, as Clint appeared behind him. “Not when you only take one or the other,”

You rolled your eyes, stepping closer to Alessia, and wrapping your free arm around her lower waist. “Details,”

Alessia hummed, noting the change in your demeanor, her eyes drifting up to see the cause (a little black camera on the ceiling further down the hall). 

“Shall we go, darling?” You asked, again imitating Norma Desmond. “The cameras are waiting, Ms. Russo,”

Alessia nodded, squeezing your hand. “Yes, let's go home. I believe we have some unfinished business to attend to,”

“Ah yes,” You agreed, wiggling your eyebrows. “I still need to get my taste,” 

Alessia and your security laughed, though there was a glint of something very familiar in your fiance’s eyes. Something that told you that this night was far from over. 

Something that told you she would be… claiming you as soon as you were away from prying eyes. 

Something that told you this night would be ending with something just between the two of you. 

Something that was yours that the outside world couldn't take away from you. 

“Don’t worry, my good girl,” Alessia murmured, pulling you close. “You’ll get all the tastes you can handle,”

[kmt123whatsthetea]

Loved from afar

Fred Weasley x reader

Requested by: @fuckyeahphelpstwins-blog

Request: “Stalker Fred Weasley”

A/N: Thank you for the request! I'm sorry that I've been gone for so long. Life problems. I was going to do Kinktober but eventually forgot about it when this lovely request popped up (I haven't checked Tumblr in a while so I'm sorry if it was requested a month or so ago). I feel like I rambled a lot during the first few paragraphs, but I needed to give Fred a real pervy vibe. I was planning on getting it written by Halloween, but I had a crazy week of clowns and witches.

T/W: Stalking (Duh), Fred being a real obsessive and possessive creep, mentions of roofieing (kinda), Stealing, Underwear sniffing,

Fred and George were a team. They had been pulling pranks and getting into trouble together since they were in nappies. Molly even sent them to the naughty corner together (which might not have been one of her best ideas, since they always seemed to fill the house with giggles and whispers). That’s why George was more than worried when Fred started to pull away. When they had a prank planned, Fred would always excuse himself and run off.

Now George might not have been the most attentive student, but he did notice that Fred only excused himself when you were around. The problem was, you didn't seem to notice. If you and Fred had been a thing, maybe you’d have been more talkative when George said hello in the hallway and maybe Fred would have told him about you. But that's just the thing, you and Fred weren't a thing.

That very thought is what kept Fred up most nights. He’d wished upon stars, four leaf clovers, made love potion after love potion to slip into your drink at dinner, but nothing. He knows the love potions didn’t work because he made them himself, but it's not like he could ask Hermione or Harry to make him one. Asking comes with an explanation.

Fred just couldn't give up. Every little glance filled him with hope. That one time when you were both paired together for a potions project, he kept palming himself under the desk. He’d lean in and catch a whiff of your shampoo, making some excuse about how the fumes made him a little dizzy. He couldn't believe his luck when you just looked the other way. He had never cum in his boxers before, but he didn't change them. In his eyes, it was proof that you had an effect on him. Like a badge of honour.

You didn’t think much of Fred’s behaviour. Being dizzy in potions class is understandable. The way he seemed transfixed when talking to you, maybe he was just a great listener. Those little things that went missing, normal forgetfulness.

Fred would never openly admit to stealing. But the things of yours that he took, he wasn't stealing. You were his girl, he was just borrowing your things. The way a girl would borrow ‘steal’ her boyfriend's Quidditch jersey (he had tried on multiple occasions to offer it to you to wear). He kept that drawer in his bedroom enchanted for a reason. Inside were pens, a scrunchie, a piece of crumpled paper with some scribbles on, and a few strands of hair tied together with an elastic band. But the piece de resistance was a pair of white underwear. Your underwear. Fred couldn't believe how insanely lucky he was when he snuck them out of your room while you were at Hogsmeade. He treated them with such care. He caressed and petted the fabric, even holding them to his nose like it was the sweetest smelling orchid. He had thought about wrapping them around his cock, but the thought of defiling such a sacred piece of fabric made him shiver.

One of his best ideas was when he put the underwear on a pillow. He buried his face into the soft fabric while his hips rutted against the other end. He didn't care about ruining his pillowcase. These were given to every other student who got a letter. But the underwear? Your underwear? They stayed either tucked in the drawer, splayed across his face, or kept in his pocket during class.

Freds next target was a pair of underwear that hadn’t been in the drawer. He wanted to get a fresh pair. He searched your room, careful to keep everything in its original place. Your room was like a palace, an undiscovered temple just for his eyes. Every one of your possessions was a gem, your hastily made bed was a pedestal where a sleeping princess could wait for her prince. He was your prince, and his kiss would open your eyes just like a princess. He really couldn't help himself as he laid on your bed, burrowing his face as deep into the fabric of your pillowcase as he could. Suffocation be damned, he would die a happy man.

He made sure to take things that he knew you wouldn't miss. The clump of hair from your hairbrush, your pillowcase (which he swapped with a fresh one from the bottom drawer), and lastly a pair of your underwear which he found tucked in the small hamper by the door. The holy grail. He brought them to his nose, inhaling deeply.

The scent was unlike anything he's ever smelt. Such a sweet smell. Better than your perfume or the scent of your shampoo. This was all you. He let out a groan at the smell, his eyes rolling back at how heavenly a simple bit of fabric could smell, all because it belonged to you. The lace seemed softer, the scent purer than your other natural scents. How a single smell could paralyse him for a whole minute, he would never know.

But his trance would soon end when he heard footsteps outside. He had never moved so quickly, not to hide from you. But underneath your bed acted as his secret sanctuary within the confines of your room, one where he could stay safe and still be as close to you as he liked (although in your bed with you was a dream he longed for). He peeked out from underneath the edge of the duvet to see your shoes, carrying you across the room to carry out your after class routine. His eyes stayed glued to your legs, the most he could see without revealing himself. But his breath hitched when your skirt dropped to the floor, followed by your shirt. Your shoes were kicked off in the corner and your bra came off after.

He nearly had a heart attack. If he peeked now, he’d see heaven. It was worth the risk of being caught. His hands slowly pushed the duvet up, his head peeking out. There you stood in just your underwear and grey knee socks. Your breasts free for his eyes to see, and only his eyes. He was so entranced by the very sight of your naked flesh that he almost missed his cue to duck back under the bed. He held his breath, making sure he was in the clear before letting himself reminisce about what he had just witnessed.

The rustle of fabric and the bed springs squeaking above him were a sure sign that he was in the clear. You were so tired, poor baby. Don’t worry, just rest. It’ll be okay..

Fred’s watching over you

[ghastlyfilters]

Hi! Saw you were taking Lost Boys requests...

I have a lot of silly concepts or ideas but my favorite is poly!Lost boys with a partner (I usually prefer fem reader but whatever ur comfy with is all good) who loves stealing some of their older clothes. Like, reader is smaller than them so the clothes are really comfy. Especially the older stuff cus decade+ old fabric is so soft.

reader stealing the lost boys’ clothes!!

pairing(s): implied poly!lost boys x fem!reader

warning(s): aside from paul and marko definitely paying attention to your curves, none!!

(now if i was the reader here i know damn WELL i would be stealing their clothes too. each one of their styles is literally perfection and to see that shit on vampires? HELLO? also i may have gotten a bit too carried away with thinking about all their clothing designs.. but thanks for this cute request<3)

gifs not mine! (if you know the original owner please tag them!)

HEADCANONS

• Stealing your boys’ clothes is by far the EASIEST thing anyone could do. The reason being? They quite literally never change out of the fits they’ve had on since 1987.

• The boys don’t have much of a scent, seeing as they’re all undead. So a washing machine doesn’t exist in their little world anymore. Which means they will now forever be outfit repeaters.

More fun for you. 

• All of the boys have the most random shit scattered around the cave. They’re the worst hoarders you have ever encountered. Cough cough.. Paul.. cough cough..

• But the amount of clothes they have laying around is shocking. Boots, band tees, jackets, jeans, leather trousers, gloves, shirts, man you name it. They have it. Every fucking decade.

• The band tees are by far your favourite thing to run around with. Paul has a shit ton of Môtley Crüe tees, and Dwayne has so many shirts with The Doors on them. (Jim’s face is literally everywhere in the cave now. They sure as hell ain’t Christians, so if they’re selling their souls to anyone it’s the horned god below or their icon Jim Morrison.)

• They did let you away with wearing their old band tees until Marko told the boys about EBay.

When Paul found out a vintage Mötley Crüe tour shirt was going for over a grand, the mf was ecstatic..

So much so, he decided to put his own vintage Mötley tees up for bidding.

“Two thousand… three thousand.. FOUR THOUSAND… FIVE THOUSAND FUCKING DOLLARS!!!”

Poor Paul’s bubble was burst however when David told him there was absolutely nothing they could do with the money aside from unlimited Chinese food for the next few months.

• David’s old clothes are much different from what the others have. He was the first to be turned, therefore he’s lived throughout the most eras.

• He’s got a LOT of leather jackets and trenchcoats. Paul and Marko always joke about him being Jack the Ripper, but you see a different side to his style. There’s been many nights you actually sat down with him and asked where he’d gotten the majority of his old items. Some were by Spanish designers that had been gifts from Max whenever he’d provided David with different clothing, others were from when David had fed off multiple store owners and casually picked out what he fancied afterwards.

• It saddens you that he doesn’t wear any of these anymore. The only reminder he ever gets of them is when you put on the soft wool Trenchcoats that go right down to your ankles, almost looking like a cape. Marko makes mini conspiracy theories that maybe you’re the real Dracula.

• Dwayne’s load of clothes is FILLED with leopard print designs. He’s been a 70s boy even all these years later, and he misses that era so dearly.

• There’s this one satin leopard print shirt that actually fits you quite well in his eyes. It’s still a little baggy.. yet oddly attractive to him. You’ve claimed it as your own now, wearing it like a pj set.

• Aside from the satin shirt, literally nothing else Dwayne has fits you. He’s a muscular guy.. and a vampire. So trying to get his baggy ass clothes to even have a slight loose fit is not for the weak 😭

• Marko however, this is where the real fun begins. You can borrow anything from Marko.. ANYTHING.. and it’s guaranteed to fit.

• He was a big crop top collector. When he used to find a good shirt that wasn’t cropped however, he’d cut it up and make it into a crop top himself. And these are what he adores you wearing. They cling nicely to your curved body, and whenever you wear them you can never get both Paul and Marko to stop staring at your breasts. Assholes.

• Marko’s clothes are by far your favourite pieces out all the boys. Much like the crop tops, he really enjoyed designing all his other outfits when he wore them. And he was pretty damn good at it too. Marko can be a crafty little thing when he wants to be. He’ll even help you design your own outfits too! He’ll cut, sew, stitch, glue, draw, paint, anything you want Marko to design, he’s down. He took so much pride in his unique outfits back in the day. And if you want yours spiced up, Marko’s your man.

• You wear his old belts a lot. One time, you were rummaging through the boys’ old stuff again, and immediately fell in love with this black latex belt Marko had. He’d drawn on perfectly shaped skulls with a white acrylic pen, and added different studs around the buckle. Ever since that day, Marko pretty much customises everything you own now.

FIRST TIME WRITING FOR THE LOST BOYS!! hope you all enjoyed these headcanons and my requests are open for any lost boys related ideas you may have!! <33