#like him being fully shirtless doesn’t come off this scandalous

[v7n5]

Idk why but he looks suspiciously slutty here

[the-chicken-or-the-banana]

part 1 of the andreil coming out thing here

ok, so andrew and neil aren't the most openly affectionate

there's no hints to the public that they could possibly be together, considering their little... rivalry

however, with andrew out now, a few people like to believe that andrew and neil could have an "enemies-to-lovers" situation

some people even think that they're already together

nevertheless, this is a very small population in the grand scheme of exy, and most of this is indulging in fantasies anyways — few people really believe in these theories

and as months pass after andrew's coming out, people stop pestering him every 0.2 seconds about who his boyfriend is

andrew and neil think they're finally free of all the annoying paparazzi and slightly overbearing fans

and it's under this false sense of security that shit hits the roof

it's a random september night when it happens, nothing terribly significant

but the whole week, andrew had been craving a closeness with neil, the kind that comes with not seeing your person for weeks

so he booked a flight to where neil was, realizing that had this occurred a few years back, andrew probably wouldn't have even acknowledged that he missed neil, let alone made steps to actually see him again

on a flight.

(he thinks bee would be proud)

anyway, he reached neil's apartment with minimal damage and proceeded to be drowned in kisses

it's a good few days.

and then, on that fateful september night, andrew is hit with the urge to take neil out

(not like murder. more like... a date?)

they don't usually go out on those, but it's not like they've never done so before

so andrew books a dinner reservation at a fancy restaurant, fully intending to take his man out on a nice. fancy. relaxing. drama-free. date.

of course, the universe has other plans

andrew and neil arrive at the restaurant (a little late but neil's lips were a good distraction for a few hours, okay? (they may have left the kitchen in disarray from lunch, but that's irrelevant))

their table is a secluded corner where they're pretty much hidden from view, save for one or two tables, and the seemingly solid privacy relaxes andrew and neil

their dinner goes by relatively uneventfully

(excluding when andrew gave a small smile to one of neil's dumb jokes, who proceeded to dump marinara sauce into his water instead of next to his garlic bread while staring dreamily at andrew, and then nearly choked when he took his next sip from the glass)

(also excluding when neil gave a not-so-innocent suck on his fork and andrew, frustrated over laws about public indecency, stabbed his brussel sprouts aggressively, causing one to fly up and hit and burn his eye)

(also also excluding— )

ok, so maybe it was more of a mess than andrew was ready to admit

but andrew dug into his panna cotta feeling lighter than he had in weeks as neil teased him about his sugar addiction and held his hand under the table

it was as andrew leaned over and kissed some cream off the side of neil's lips that he got the feeling of being watched

he whirled around, hair nearly hitting neil's face, as his gaze landed on a cell phone camera pointed at them

he caught the eye of a very guilty looking man, made even more errant when said man proceeded to leap out of his chair and run out of the restaurant

andrew was half-out of his chair to follow him when neil tugged on his shirt sleeve, an instigative glint in his eye

"neil. do you want to see this on every gossip magazine in the next few hours?"

"well no, but that fuckwad is always going to have those pictures. we, however, can make sure he doesn't get the headline he wants"

"... i'm listening"

about 40 minutes later, back at neil's apartment, neil posts a picture of his extremely messy kitchen on twitter

@neil_josten_official: well fuck me 🥴

@03andrewminyard: if you insist

~ 30 minutes later ~

@neil_josten_official: *image attached: andrew is laying his head in the crook of neil's neck as neil kisses him on the top of his head, andrew's fingers running through neil's hair. they both appear to be shirtless*

@neil_josten_official: BREAKING NEWS: just had sex with my (very hot) boyfriend to get revenge on unfulfilled gossip "journalists." life really couldn't be better :)

@neil_josten_official: ok but really, stop trying to out closeted celebrities (and people in general). it's not cool. it's not trendy. our lives aren't a scandal to report on. you're all just assholes and fuck you

@neil_josten_official: but not literally. a metaphorical fuck, if you will

@exykevinday.official: I'm proud of you for coming out and finally ending your ridiculous rivalry @neil_josten_official and @03andrewminyard, but was there really no other way you could have done so without informing me about your sex life?

@03andrewminyard: haha. no.

needless to say, the internet erupts in shock at neil's tweets

theories emerge left and right about how, when, why andrew and neil got together

the two of them get requests for so many interviews, talk shows, panels, magazines, all of which they turn down

of course, there's the occasional question in a post-game or team interview that's hard to avoid, and for the most part, these rare moments provide the only things the public knows about what they affectionately call "andreil"

but apparently when you're in a very public relationship, there are certain expectations fans have about how much of it you disclose

and while andrew doesn't necessarily want to divulge their private life to millions of people, he also can't help but be reminded of how seeing nicky and erik's comfortable relationship in his late teenage years solidified to him that him liking guys wasn't a bad thing

and it's with that in mind that he posts a picture on his instagram from earlier in june of him and neil curled up on the sofa, a massive rainbow flag draped around them with neil kissing his cheek

it's one of the few pictures he posts of the two of them (photos are more of neil's thing (when the hell did he take such model-esque photos of andrew?))

but andrew constantly @'s neil on twitter for literally anything

@03andrewminyard: don't forget the cat food the spoiled idiots take the most expensive stuff @neil_josten_official

@03andrewminyard: hey @neil_josten_official get me the mega stuff oreos from the store ok bye

@03andrewminyard: i- @neil_josten_official. why. is. there. neon. orange. paint. all. over. my. socks.

needless to say, neil's retaliation of posting gorgeous photos of andrew always flusters andrew

and if andrew needs to press soft kisses to his lips to stop neil's gleeful laughter and his own flightful smile, well, that's no one's business

[pitch-pearl-void]

Courtship

"Wow," Danny breathed, his hand hovering over the ice sculpted shuttle.

Phantom floated beside Danny's bed, his gaze darting to the shuttle he had set on Danny's beside table and then back to Danny's face. His hands were firmly clasped behind his back, as if to hold himself still. 

"Can I touch it?" Danny asked. "It won't melt?"

Phantom shook his head. "It's not like ice from your realm. Force will destroy it, but heat won't affect it. You can pick it up, just be careful not to drop it."

"Wow, cool." 

Carefully--so very carefully since Danny knew the worth of a recreated rocket, never mind one built from scratch--Danny lifted the shuttle off his table and set it on his lap. Immediately, he felt the cold seep through the thin material of his pajama bottoms, and he shivered. 

Unlike the model rockets Danny had built, Phantom's shuttle was meant to stand upright as if it was on the launchpad. The two rocket boosters were attached to the large external tank, taking their proper position beneath the rocket's delta wings, ready to be detached as soon as the shuttle made it to orbit. Every engine was accounted for at the bottom of the rocket, even the orbital maneuvering engine. 

There was even two safety hatches carved into the ice above the windows. He found the crew's access hatch, and then just allowed his hand to glide over the smooth surface of the rocket, delighted by the smooth surface and the cold, dry feel of the ice beneath his hand.

Phantom shifted in the air beside him. "Do you...accept then?"

"What?" Danny slid his hand up the tail and then looked up at Phantom. His friend was, if anything, more nervous than when he had first placed the shuttle on Danny's bedside table. "Accept what?"

Phantom visibly bit his lip. He lowered his head, and the flaming crown he so rarely wore--usually only when forced to by circumstance since he still refused to give up protecting Amity Park--flickered, the tail of the flames growing, until Phantom managed to subdue whatever emotion had caused the crown and his core to become agitated. 

"You okay?" Danny set the shuttle on his bed and stood up. He reached for Phantom's shoulder, but before his fingers could make contact, Phantom flinched and floated out of easy reach. 

"Only nervous." Phantom flashed Danny a weak smile as if in apology. "I've never done this before."

"Done what?" Danny looked at the shuttle on his bed. The morning sun was falling on the ice, causing it to sparkle beautifully, but Danny turned away to frown at Phantom. "Am I missing something? My birthday isn't until December, you're a few months early."

Phantom titled his head, his brow furrowing. "It isn't for your birthday, Danny. It's just, it's...for you. If you'll accept it." Phantom's green eyes widened as if he had just made a mistake. "Or not!" he said quickly. "You can keep it either way! I made it for you, and I want you to have it! It's just...it's..."

He trailed off, but now Danny knew there was more to the shuttle than as just something Phantom wanted to show off, and he held up his hands. "Wait, hold on, start at the beginning. You made this really cool shuttle...for me?"

Phantom smiled and nodded, meeting Danny's eyes briefly before looking away.

Giddiness rose in Danny's chest and made a smile burst onto his face. His heart beat faster, no doubt adding a blush to his cheeks, but he couldn't help it. The amount of detail Phantom had put into the shuttle...and all for him. All that time he must have spent researching man-made shuttles and then trying to recreate it through ice...all while thinking about him?

"Wow..." he breathed again.

Phantom met Danny's eyes again, his gaze lingering so that Danny felt like his insides were melting beneath the other's attention.

He was the one to look away that time, turning his head and rubbing at his neck. "But it's, uh, it's not just a gift, is it? You're offering something else with it? Something you're hoping I'll accept? But, um, dude, I don't know what you're asking me."

Phantom cocked his head to the side. "It's not obvious? It looked like you understood just a second ago..."

Danny licked his lips. "It--well, it seems like you're asking me out?"

"Asking you out?" Phantom repeated, confused. 

"Like on a date and stuff."

"Date?"

Danny blew out a breath. Usually, Phantom was pretty good about adjusting to human life. He had been in their world for three years, after all. But, sometimes, the culture divide had a way of tripping them up. Perhaps he shouldn't be surprised Phantom didn't understand this area. Despite all the fans who threw themselves at him, Phantom had never seemed interested in reciprocating. In fact, he had seemed disturbed sometimes. Danny had begun to think...well. Maybe he had been wrong. Maybe Phantom was interested in humans.

"It's like hanging out," Danny explained, "but with a stronger emphasis on, like, romance and stuff. On a date, sometimes you bring a gift like flowers or something, and you dress up to look nice before going somewhere together."

Phantom had worn his crown. He was giving Danny a gift and he seemed nervous about something. It made sense. Danny wasn't just fooling himself...was he?

Phantom didn't look satisfied by the explanation, at any rate, and Danny felt his heart sinking. "What comes after the dating?" Phantom asked. 

"Uh...I guess engagement?" Danny looked down at his toes. "You get someone a ring and propose to them. If they say no, that, well, that kind of ends the relationship. If they say yes, then you're engaged to be married."

Phantom's expression cleared. "That one."

"Uh, that one what?"

"That's the one I'm asking."

Danny stared at Phantom. Looked at the shuttle. Jerked his head back to Phantom. "What? You--me--you're proposing? With an ice shuttle?"

"I didn't understand the significance of the rings until now." Phantom released his hands from behind his back so that he could grab the Ring of Rage and twist it anxiously around his finger. "I can't offer this one without endangering you. I could sculpt you one, though. If you'll give me the chance."

"That's not--I just can't believe you--" Danny's legs gave out and he fell onto his bed. "Marriage?!"

"Yes?" Phantom looked at him oddly. "You're old enough now and I'm strong enough to be considered fully formed. There isn't anything wrong, is there? Something I missed?"

"N-no," Danny had to admit. "I mean, you'll have to win my parents over. You're, uh, if you really want to be proper about it, I think you're supposed to get their approval first."

Phantom's eyes widened. "Oh. We don't have parents. I didn't--"

Danny shook his head. "You don't really have to anymore. It's just--isn't this a little fast?" he asked desperately. "I'm--I--I'm not even dressed!"

Phantom raised an eyebrow. "You are more fully clothed than you usally are..."

"Oh, ha ha." Danny pulled at his pajama sleeves. "Before you get into one of your 'show less skin' spiels, you should know, seeing a human in their sleeping clothes is considered almost as intimate as seeing them shirtless. For the record."

Phantom blushed a brilliant green. "Oh. Really?"

"Yup."

"You never said anything!"

"Because it doesn't bother me! Watch!" Danny began undoing the buttons at the top of his pajama shirt, exposing his collarbone. 

"Danny!" Phantom gasped, scandalized. 

He flew toward Danny, but Danny fell backward on the bed, rolled across the surface, and stood up on the other side, still unbuttoning his shirt. "What's the matter Phantom?" he asked his friend, grinning as Phantom's cheeks began to frost. "Can't handle a little skin?"

"Not when it's your skin!" Phantom covered his eyes, groaning. "I'm not supposed to see you like this unless we're married!"

"Why not?" Danny undid the final button. He hesitated, allowing both ends of his pajama shirt to pull apart and expose his chest and stomach, before turning away from Phantom and heading toward his closet. "I thought ghosts didn't put much stock in appearances?"

"We don't," Phantom agreed uneasily, "but we're not meant to see each other vulnerable either. You humans use clothing as a shield against the elements and each other. It feels as though you are exposing your core to me."

"I guess..." Danny sighed. They had discussed it before. Danny had just never understood why Phantom felt so flustered about seeing Danny in shorts or a tank when he rarely bated an eye at Sam's or Paulina's choice to wear midriff shirts and skirts.

Now...now it made a little more sense. 

Danny slipped his arms out of his sleeves, dropped his shirt, and pulled a fresh t-shirt off its hanger. "Wait, just how long have you been, like..." Danny made a face. What was Phantom after? "Dude, you like me? Is that what you're saying?"

Phantom made a sharp, dry laugh. "It is well past 'like', Danny. I thought we were dating, even if I didn't realize there was a word or process for it. We hung out, just the two of us, all the time. You even asked me to see a movie with you last week. There were times you would look at me, and I thought...but you never gave me a courtship gift. I thought maybe you were waiting for me to make you one. So I, um..."

Danny zipped up his jeans and turned around. Phantom, apparently unsatisfied with only covering his eyes, had turned his back to Danny while he changed. Danny smiled and shook his head. He grabbed a hoodie from his closet and pulled it on too, just to spare Phantom the distraction of seeing his bare arms.

"That's what the shuttle is then?" he asked. "A courtship gift?"

"Yes. Isn't that what the ring and your kind mean by proposal?"

"No, that's, uh, that's more like being, like, betrothed?"

Danny pushed his hands into his pouch and stared at Phantom's back, chewing on his lip. For all that Phantom made a lot of noise about seeing Danny's skin, Phantom's jumpsuit clung to his body like a second-skin, and Danny found his eyes tracing along the slope of his spine and the curve of his butt like always, unable to help himself. He did try, though. Since Phantom seemed so conscious of decency, he did try. It was just...how was he supposed to ignore a sight like that? When Phantom flew and floated however he pleased, bending his legs, twisting his torso...

Danny blushed and looked away. "I'm dressed, by the way."

Phantom flew to his side in a flash, his face still flushed and looking a little anxious. "I suppose we have been handicapped by our differences again."

"I guess so." Danny shrugged. He tilted his head and looked up at Phantom from an angle. "Humans used to do courtships, though. Like, a few centuries ago. It just fell out of style." His lips curled into a mischievous smile. "I could look it up and start courting you in the human fashion, you know."

Phantom's lips formed an answering smile. "I initiated mine first. I called dibs."

"Ha!" Danny laughed and pulled one hand from his pouch so he could run it through his hair, trying to hide his blush. "I guess you did. What, uh, what does a courtship mean? For ghosts? I didn't even know you guys got married."

"Not in the way humans do. Ours is less metaphysical and more..." He shrugged. "In ghosts, we share energy across our bond. I'm not sure how bonding with a human will affect it, but if it's you, I want to try."

Danny's blush worsened. "Um..."

"A courtship is meant to be a process wherein we determine if we're compatible or not. It's not final or anything." Phantom drifted back a pace and breathed in deep, a habit he had picked up from Danny. "First, as your suitor, I was meant to craft a gift for you. It's meant to demonstrate my skill and power, but the thing I make is supposed to show how well I know you. Sort of like a promise that I will value your interests."

Danny glanced at the ice sculpted shuttle on his bed and had to swallow. "You definitely did that..."

Phantom flashed him a quick smile. "You can keep it. I made it for you, so even if you reject my--"

"I'm not! I won't." Danny laughed weakly to himself. "I, uh, I like you too. I just...well, it just seemed like you weren't interested in humans, so I thought we were just hanging out as friends. You never tried to kiss me, and every time I tried to touch you, you flinched away."

"Ahh..." Phantom blushed then. "Touching is really intimate for ghosts. It's a little like..."

"Being groped?"

Phantom shrugged. "Probably."

Danny snickered. "Is that why you dropped Paulina on the pavement that one time she kissed your cheek?"

Phantom wrinkled his nose. "She was lucky all I did was drop her, honestly..." He shook his head and refocused on Danny, his eyes bright. "Does this mean you'll accept?"

Danny smiled at him, charmed by the excitement lifting Phantom higher into the air. "Yeah! I mean, probably. I just need to know what I'm getting into, you know?"

Phantom nodded rapidly. "I'll explain everything. I can probably even find a book! Frostbite might have one...or maybe Dora..."

Danny laughed. "I would rather you just explained it. Maybe even...over breakfast? At the diner down the street?"

Phantom paused. Slowly, he grinned. "This is one of your dates? This is you asking me out in the human fashion?"

"You're catching on." Danny grinned back at him. "Do you accept?"

Phantom beamed, bright-eyed and glowing. "I do."

[painting-wings]

SCANDAL | 4 |

Words ~ 1k 

Masterlist 

Chapters ~ Three | Five 

A/N : Chapter 4 is here! Hope you guys like the story so far and things are starting to heat up... 👀  If you are enjoying this story please give it a like :) 

*All characters / events in this story are completely fictional* 

It had been a week since you told Taehyung about the picture and he still talks about it to you, teasing saying that you will be in trouble. What really sparked your anxiety was when you sat in one of the practice rooms with them and Cho-hee came up to you.

“I know your secret” she whispered, your heart stopped, looking at her wide eyed, “what do you mean? I don’t have secrets” laughing nervously. She playfully hit your arm, 

“Oh come on you know, your instagram” 

At that moment all the colour drained from your face, the secret fan account you were done for, before you could explain yourself, Cho-hee showed you, your personal instagram that was on private. Relief washed over you “I have been wanting to follow you for a while now but I couldn’t find your insta” 

“Oh yea...I didn’t think that anyone would want it so I never gave it out” you said unlocking your phone to accept her request. Looking at how many followers she has you was amazed, “you have a lot of followers” 

“Yea, a lot of people mainly ask for pictures of the boys...I have done other groups as well but for now I’m here for the upcoming tour, hey! Let’s take a selfie together and post it” Cho-hee held up the camera, quickly sorted out your hair and held up a peace sign while pursing your lips together to blow a kiss. 

“That was cute!” Cho-hee squealed, she posted the picture and within a few minutes your phone was blowing up of likes, comments and follow requests, turning the phone on silent, you didn’t see Taehyung hovering over your shoulder. 

“y/n..your popular”

“Tae! Oh no I took a photo with-”

“Hmm I know, I saw also next time don’t take a picture in front of the mirrors” 

Confused at what he said looking back onto the picture you could see the boys in the back practicing...that's why your phone was blowing up. Curious you decided to read the comments on the picture. 

‘OMG! CAN ANYONE SEE THEM IN THE BACK’

‘Who is the other girl?’ 

‘JIMIN! YOU LOOK SO HOT 😍 ‘ 

‘The BTS crew feeding us TODAY THANK YOUUUU’

‘I wish I had their job…’ 

‘Jungkookie looks so hot’

‘ ARE THEY SHIRTLESS?!!!! 😱 ‘ 

‘WE NEED MORE PICTURES’ 

‘Post more please’ 

‘Ew I wanna see BTS more than these two get out of the picture’ 

The last comment hurt a little bit, but you knew with working with this job people are going to be jealous of you. Now you understood Tae’s words and he was right next time think about where the picture is being taken. 

“Hey y/n” looking up you saw Namjoon waving you over, walking over to the boys, “did you want to come to dinner with us?” 

Your brain stopped working for a second as you had to process that information...did Namjoon, THE Namjoon ask you to dinner with the rest of BTS. 

                                                        ***

It was weird sitting in a restaurant with BTS, everyone chatted quietly, sat next to Namjoon on one side and the other was Jin, in front of you was Jimin while Jungkook was next to Namjoon and Tae, Hoseok was either side of Jimin.  

As you took a sip of your water, Namjoon was asking you about your home country and why did you want to come and work in Korea. 

“Well I have always loved music and I have always been interested in other cultures' music, I fell in love with Korean pop because it spoke to me in a way other music didn’t”  Namjoon was looking at you with so much interest, it felt like a dream. If you were brave enough you would’ve leaned in and kissed him right there but...you weren't. 

“Also Korea is such a beautiful country” you added as Namjoon smiled at you, 

“Yea it is, I do love my country, I really want to go to your country y/n” 

“Really why?” 

“Because I want to see what your music is like” 

You laughed as he looked at you with confusion “no my countries music is so cheesy..with wannabe boy bands and girl groups also the solo artists don’t really care about their fans only the money”  

Namjoon laughed too “okay...I guess I believe you but please show me some music sometime and I can judge it” you nod in agreement as the food arrives. 

Steaming hot bowls of noodles, variety of meats, vegetables and the strange combination that Jungkook was eating that you didn’t want to know. You weren't very skilled with the chopsticks as you kept dropping your food, making the boys giggle at you, in the end you stabbed the piece of food with one of the sticks. 

“Hey y/n like this” Hoseok said as he slowly showed you how to hold them, still looking confused Jin leaned over and held your hand, showing you were to place your fingers, that night you laughed so much, it had felt like you’d had been friends with them all your life. 

                                                               ***

 AhnJong called you to her office, panic set in as you thought you did something bad, break into a nervous sweat as you stood at her door. Knocking hesitantly walking into the cold room, she sat elegantly at her desk but has a serious face, “Y/n come and take a seat” walking to the chair you sat down waiting to hear the worse “bts are going on tour in a months time and I need to know are all your travel documents up to date?” 

‘Yes they should be” 

“Good, now there are rules about tour” You mentally groaned, more rules? How many can there be?

“When on tour you have to stick to a strict schedule, no talking to anyone who isn’t a part of the crew, stadium staff. Avoid any fans, press also no leaving your room after the curfew time” you take in all this information mentally hoping that you remember. 

“Yes I fully understand” you reply as you are allowed to leave, standing outside the door you sigh a relief, now going back down to the practice rooms. 

On your way down you walk into Jimin, “Hi Jimin” you smile as he gives you a wave, “Y/n are you excited about the tour starting soon?”  

“Of course and you must be excited right?” you ask as Jimin gives you a small laugh, “Tour is exciting and tiring. Are you heading back?” 

“Yea I am” 

Both of you just walk back to the practice rooms, part of your brain is mentally screaming at Park Jimin walking with you, you keep your cool as you don’t want to keep looking at him as you steal side glances at him, but that doesn’t go unnoticed, Jimin lets out a small giggle, making your cheeks flush which causes you to freak out more. “Y/n your so cute” 

“Huh? What” 

“aha..I said you're cute, so Y/n who is your bias?” 

“Sorry?” you as in shock did Jimin really ask you this question, 

“Who is your bias” his smirk grew on his face as your blush darkened,

“Erm.. I like you all equally”  by this point Jimin groaned, 

“Y/n come on I won’t tell the others” it was almost like he was flirting with you, in your head you knew this can’t be real and it’s some dream and you will wake up any second. Shaking your head you quickly walked away from Jimin. 

                                                                ***

TODAY IS TOUR  DAY 

It is currently 2am and you're standing outside of a plane, waiting to board. You soon learn that crew members and the group travel separately, still half asleep and not sure where you should be Cho-hee is full of energy and bouncing around you, “I’m so excited! Y/n are you excited too?”

“Yes Cho-hee I am I really need to sleep”

“Sleep is for losers” she said running off to go talk to another member of the crew, checking your phone, you see a message from Taehyung.

‘y/n why don’t you come fly with us?’

‘Tae I’m not allowed, airport paparazzi will get suspicious’ 

‘ :( ‘ 

‘Don’t worry I’m staying in the same hotel’ 

You finally got to board the plane and now you was chilling in your seat, looking out of the window you felt content with yourself and also super excited to be on tour, you inner fangirl was losing her mind, taking a quick picture you posted it to your snapchat as well as secret insta. 

Strangely you felt like you were living a double life with the fan instagram account, which you pray that it never gets leaked that's why you log out of the account whenever you're around the crew or the rest of the boys. 

After a few hours you finally landed in C/n, taking your thing you and the crew walked through the airport getting closer to the doors you felt overwhelmed by the amount of people, camera and fans standing waiting for a glance of their idol, before you got off the plane you was instructed by the other crew members to wear a mask, a hat and keep your head down. 

When the doors opened it was like you were in a lightning storm the amount of lights going off at once, the fans asking about the boys, one name caught your attention, you looked out to the crowd quickly as you thought you heard your name being called but it was probably nothing. 

Flopping down onto the soft hotel bed you felt glad to finally be in a safe space, laying there on the bed in the silence just gathering your thoughts. That was short lived when your phone went off reading the message form Hoseok, ‘Y/n what room are you in? We are going for food, did you want to come? :D ‘ reading Hoseok’s message was like hearing him speak it radiate positivity. 

‘I’m in room 1343’ 

‘Okay I will be up soon!’ 

Smiling to yourself you decided to check your instagram, going through the feed there were the typical images that were on instagram, and you noticed that your image had gotten the normal attention, you started to read the comments.

‘Beautiful picture’

‘Are you excited for the comebacks this year?’ 

‘Living your best life xx’ 

‘Are you in C/n?’ 

‘Was you at the same airport as BTS?’ 

‘Are you a part of the BTS crew?’ 

The last two comments worried you as you never showed your face on this instagram or what you looked like in general but you decided to answer the comments and leave it how it was, that until one comment sent you through the roof. 

‘Are you a sasaeng?’ 

[poptod]

Weight of a Songbird (Snafu x Reader)

Description: It's all hazy, and you never fully realize your own condition. You hallucinate and dissociate during battle, during mealtime, frequently and at the expense of your own health. You're saved by a man who's just looking out for you, but he's not exactly entirely neurotypical either.

Notes: I wrote this a while ago. It’s depressing, and to be honest I don’t like it at all, but I haven’t posted in a bit so here it is. Gender neutral. 

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21306608

Word Count: 5.3k

Everything collapsed into a tiny world. Isolation without being isolated, trapped in the confines of a tiny world too minute for your thoughts. It was just too small, all the same things over and over again, nothing changing, nothing ever differing, like seeing the same color forever. An expanse of bright red. Bloody and beautiful. The ringing in your ears is eternal, and wondering if it ever will go away is a waste of energy.

There’s voices but you can’t hear them, they don’t speak loud enough to be heard over the ringing, to be called to attention over the vastness of your world. Then you get pushed by an invisible force, shoving you out of the way, and you hear voices, louder and louder, growing closer and closer. They shout in your ear, and then it’s not just voices but the sound of bullets.

The mud drenches you, sticking all over your skin and drying over your clothes despite the fact that it’s still raining. In the darkness you can’t see a thing, as shining a light would give away your position. Only the flare of firing guns gives you any idea that you’re still alive.

No one’s even specifically shouting at you - it’s hard to notice someone crouched in the mud, clutching their gun like releasing it would surely make them slip from the dregs of sanity. You don’t have to look around to know you aren’t the only one positioned like that, and you don’t have to even think to know you should be shooting. So you turn, cock your gun, and you start shooting blindly into the darkness, praying that you don’t get hit.

It doesn’t occur to you to have a plan, to move from your position, to maybe even try to look for a specific target. You just move your gun every now and then and shoot, aiming for sounds when they come.

When day breaks they’re dead and you’re alive. It’s as simple as that.

All the people you know hold guns now. All you knew seems so distant, like all your life was was a dream and that this was reality. This shivering wasteland, seeping into your skin and poisoning your blood with every movement. When you try to speak, all that comes out is a gush of dry wind.

Despite the cold, nothing felt real. The frost covered your skin, and it numbed every sense you had till nothing remained but the bones barely holding you up. You tried to cover your arms with your hands, to try to rub some warmth into them but your hands fall off in the freeze, and though you wanted to cry, the tears come out hot.

They burned into your senses, and you come back to yourself.

It hasn’t rained in days. The sun beats hot above but you’re sitting, eating lunch, dissipating into the background like the trees swaying in the sweet ocean breeze. You don’t think, but you realize your hands have not fallen off. You lift your fork to eat, and as your head leans forward, you feel the slightest wind brushing against your cheek, and you feel the tears.

They were there. But painted into the background, no one notices, so you don’t pay any attention to it either. You eat, you don’t know if it’ll be a while till your next meal. When you finish, you sit in front of your empty plate and you do nothing but stare at it. You hope to God that you won’t slip away again, because despite everything in this world, the other one is worse. It’s constant. In this world, the sun can still shine in a beautiful sort of way, even burning your eyes open.

When you breathe and close your eyes, you find peace, but the anxiety gets to you in an instant.

They’re watching.

They’re just waiting for you to rest.

Close your eyes.

Relax your sore muscles.

They’re shooting.

Everyone goes for their guns, no matter how far away they are and the man is dead in an instant. An intruder sneaking into the camp and shooting dead a man you did not know, and when you look down, your gun is in your hands, and it’s just been fired, and you haven’t even broken a sweat.

You drop your gun and close your eyes into darkness. When you try to open them, it doesn’t work.

Darkness consumed you, filling every crevice you had, spilling out and choking your thoughts. You couldn’t breathe, but you were at peace for once. You relaxed into the control of the ink, letting it clog your lungs and fill up your mouth with its’ bittersweet taste.

And then you saw yourself, your eyes black with the darkness, the goo spilling from your mouth as your body hung lifeless in the empty space. Like a puppet you began to speak, but it wasn’t your voice, it was your commanding officer. As much as you trust him, you couldn’t seem to trust him now as he controlled you.

As you watched a gun fell into the hands of the puppet version of you, dripping with the void covering its’ body. It raised its’ gun to you.

Shoot, your commanding officer said. You can trust me.

When the puppet shoots, you can open your eyes again, and when you do it’s evening but you haven’t moved from where you were in the afternoon. The feeling of distrust lingers with you and you glare at people who look at you before remembering your place.

The shaking in your hand doesn’t stop but you can see again, and you thank God for that. You never want to close your eyes again. You never want to sleep again. You can’t end your stream of consciousness.

Your eyes stay on the ground, but you know the stars are above you. They’re always there, watching over you, but they don’t care. They’re distant, cold and apathetic to any plight, just like people, though stars don’t pretend like they care.

When you regain your hearing just a moment later you hear people talking, conversing quietly, and the strumming of a guitar. For the first time since afternoon you divert your attention from the dirt at your feet, looking up to the man playing.

He’s shirtless, covered in dirt and grime, and his pants are slacking way below the belt line with boots that are too big for his feet but he’s playing a beautiful song you’ve heard before. Or maybe you haven’t, but the tune reverberates through your empty bones that are calloused from living.

You realize he’s been playing for a bit now. The men surrounding him have gone quiet, and it’s not a happy, appreciative quiet, it’s a silence that hits too close to the heart, and you know it’s not about love or drinking.

“Terrible is the day when I return to you, an open shell, a broken ghost of the person you once knew,” he sings, and you can feel the stinging in your gut spill up into your eyes, but tears don’t fall. Not yet.

“Love me or leave me I’ll love you just the same, though memories have faded I’ll always know your name,” he sings, and his voice is beautiful, and it petrifies you.

“I know you see me different now. Pain has a way of changing what heaven’s endowed,” he sings, and he moves onto the chorus. You only know it’s the chorus because the men gather themselves together again like they hadn’t been struck down by the thought of home.

“Burning through my veins I feel you, like I exist only to know you,” is what the song ends with, and the men get back to talking. You watch, noticing as they try to act normally. It’s not an easy thing to do.

You decide to move your body, and it’s an incredibly conscious decision in the way that you almost have to convince yourself. I need to move my body, you think, but do you? I need to go to sleep, you know, but you can’t let your guard down.

A sharp pain flows through your chest, starting in the heart and flowing down to your legs, numbing them. Your eyes grow hazy and you can’t see, all you can feel is the ragged breaths you take, and the hand on your shoulder that’s suddenly come. You can’t balance, and it feels more like you’re dying than falling. It’s not how you expected to go out.

Unlike all the other times, you’re too grounded in reality, but your head’s far off in the sky. It’s like you’re being stretched beyond the limit, beyond the atmosphere till you’re nothing but a thin thread of a person. The pains flowing through your system keep you awake, keeps you in reality but your breathing sends you off. It’s all too much, a stark difference from the times when all you can feel is one sensation. Whether that’s cold or loneliness, it’s better than feeling everything at once.

There’s a nurse hanging above you, her hair in tight curlers, dressed in a nightgown. It’s scandalous but you don’t really care as she helps you to your feet. Your head pounds like someone’s playing drums with your skull, and your legs don’t hurt but they don’t work right either.

“Looks like a panic attack,” the nurse says offhandedly, and clutching your head with dizziness you hear the men around you sniggering. It’s just panic. You aren’t being sent home.

“I’d advise to have someone lookin’ out for ya. If you have another one a’ these episodes in the midst of fightin’, you’re gonna need someone to pull ya back t’ reality,” she says, and half comprehending her words you nod. She’s basically telling you to get a friend, to find someone to look out for you, but no one looks out for anyone but themselves. It’s only common sense. You don’t lose the sheer panic of being shot at but it becomes numb, and nothing feels quite real except the bullet whizzing past and lodging into the tree you’re crouching beside.

Nothing feels real till you’re feeling the jump of the gun in your hands again, realizing as it fires off that you’re killing a person. A human, with a wife and children, with a whole other life they were praying to get back to. It’s hard not to think that the other side isn’t thinking the same thing. As soon as you start to sympathize with them, it gets harder to kill them, and you can’t have that.

You don’t want to kill them, but they want to kill you, you repeat in your head like a mantra as you see a rocket fly into the air. It’s not true, you know that, but… there’s no other way you’d pull the trigger. Really, you’re aware that the other side is thinking the exact same thing.

There’s bullets colliding with blood and dirt alike all around you, but what gets you is the slip of your foot in a patch of not yet dry mud. Your stance falls and your heart quickens, breath growing short as you lose yourself. The panic is senseless, just move your aim to where it was before but you can’t seem to think. Heart palpitating, palms sweaty, you lose the ability to fire, and in doing so, the ability to protect yourself.

“Hey, watch it kid,” a man elbows you, shaking you, but it does little to stop shaking hands. It does stop you from going any further though, and he notices this, so for a moment he looks at you.

“Snafu.”

“What?” You say, and you realize it’s the first thing you’ve said in ages.

“My name, Snafu. Now pay attention,” he says, shoving your head towards the enemy line. You don’t hear him muttering about you being a fucking idiot.

You pay attention to the jump of the gun when it fires. That night, you sleep in the trenches, taking shifts and never really falling asleep. It’s your turn to guard first, and the man from before who called himself Snafu sleeps. His gun is clutched tight into his chest and you realize with cutting awareness that you absolutely cannot slip away, you cannot go off into the world of feeling everything or only one thing. Either one tears you away from reality, and if you stray from reality, it’s not just you who’s dead.

You have little trouble staying awake, your eyes peeled open wide, dry with unblinking. The silence is stifling in the air like a heavy cloud of fog over the mind, but you dare not make a noise.

Halfway through the night Snafu wakes up and without word he stands guard. You hesitate to fall asleep but he nods, and you do so, and your sleep is dreamless. When you awake your knuckles are sore from clutching your rifle and your jaw feels numb from grinding, and the headache you’ve had all day is worse than ever.

“Morning Songbird,” he says when you stir, the nickname sending you into your own curiosity.

“What?”

It’s the second time you’ve said that.

“I said, good mornin’,” he chuckles, and it’s clear that he’s been informed the fighting is over for now. In the clearness of the day you hear an accent, not bothering to identify it as you watch him clean his gun.

“No, the other thing,” you say as you sit up.

“Songbird?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh, you were moanin’ like a songbird all night,” he drawls, punctuating with a pointed look to your crotch.

You say nothing but you cover yourself with your too large shirt, turning away from the vulgar man. You didn’t remember having any dream like that.

For the next few days he looks out for you. You weren’t sure if the nurse had asked him because you certainly hadn’t, but you appreciate it anyway, though sometimes he was odd. He never let you slip away, and it almost drove you insane, as it was the only release from reality. Like a man starved for cigarettes you needed to get away, if only for a moment. Just to dream. To be somewhere else.

You let yourself do so as it pours down rain. There hasn’t been any fighting for a while and it puts you on edge, wondering in anxious worry when it’ll come back. If you’ll be the first casualty that warns the others to be on alert. Still you lay down outside your tent, being pounded by heavy sheets of rain whipping over the island. Snafu is nowhere to be found, so you close your eyes, and all you can see is blue.

It was a bright blue, pastel almost, faded and beautiful in a way that abandoned buildings are. Nothing else existed in the void, overrun by sheets of white falling from the sky. They came down in gentle drifts, lying down across the puddles on the ground. You watched in amusement as they got soaked, turning a shade of grey as the puddles no longer reflected blue, the sheets no longer bright white.

Far off in the distance there’s blackness. In large chunks it grew closer like lights shutting off in a giant warehouse, until you’re running as fast as you could, trying to stay in the light. It’s of no use, light is faster than footsteps, and you eventually get swallowed up in the dark. You just stand, unmoving, unsure. All you felt was the anxiety creeping up your shoulders, caressing with gentle touches that reverberated into your body with loving hatred.

When you wake up, you’re shaking. Full body practically vibrating, being slapped awake by Snafu.

“What’d I tell you? Don’t drift off,” he hisses at you, standing up to tower over your lying form. You sit up, still staring at him, glaring, actually. He sits down in a chair beside you, taking his godawful knife out and picking at his skin. It’s gross, but some people think you’re fucked up in the head, so you try not to say anything.

You sit up against the tent, your back leaning on boxes inside. Every now and then he looks down at you, making sure you’re not drifting, and you back up with a tired look. Whenever you close your eyes and breathe deeply he punches you, which doesn’t help for any of your calming techniques but you assure yourself he’s not an asshole, he’s just looking out for you.

Of course the only person to look out for you is the biggest asshole you’ve ever met.

The rain doesn’t stop for a few hours. When it does he sits down beside you, too close for comfort, still picking at the hard skin of his lower palm till it bleeds.

“That’s gross,” you say, grimacing as you have to watch him up close.

“Your singin’ is gross,” he mutters, not looking up from his skin. He’s now cleaning his nails, still with the knife.

“I don’t sing,” you say quickly. You don’t, you never have. It’s never been something that interests you. He just looks up at you with a confused glare for a moment before looking back down, shaking his head.

You don’t. You don’t know what his problem is.

He only explains a week or so later, though your grasp on the days is flimsy at best. You’re not one for keeping calendar notebooks.

“What’s that song you sing anyway?” He asks you as he leads the way back to the tent. You’d be leading if you were faster, but you can’t find it in you to care. The only thing keeping you vitalized and alert was your other world, and it’s gone now thanks to the shining asshole who won’t stop talking.

“I don’t sing,” you repeat yourself from days ago.

“Yeah you do. Y’ close yer eyes and start mumblin’ some shit with a tune. Can’t make out the words though,” he notes at the end, looking back at you. “It’s when y’ don’t sing that I get worried.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. You’re the one who picks at his skin.”

“Guess we all got something fucked about us,” he says, seeing he’s not getting an answer. You don’t have an answer, though he doesn’t believe this.

You feel less willing to slip away knowing that you apparently mumble to yourself.

There’s a skirmish in broad daylight, and even though it makes it easier to aim, it sets everyone on edge. The sun makes you an easier target, and the trees do little to shade you from the overbearing heat. In the short five hours you don’t talk, you don’t phase out, and your finger doesn’t move from the trigger except to load more ammunition. By the time it’s done, every movement sets you off and you notice every little thing.

The dirt is riding up your back, mixing with the sweat of the intensity of it all. Your hands are shaking, and with them clutched around the gun pressed to your chest you can feel your dog tags digging into your skin. It’s the first time in months that you’ve felt hunger boil away at your stomach, grumbling like a cauldron. Your breath passes ragged between your lips, even and repetitive in a sickening way.

“Hey Birdie,” Snafu calls out to you, and though his voice grates against your nerves it pulls you back down. Of course your nickname has to have a nickname.

“Hey.”

“It’s quiet,” he says simply.

You don’t reply, but you follow the others when they dig themselves out of the pit. Behind you, you hear him grunt as he follows you.

Thoughts blurred your mind, changing a colorful palette into a mix of everything, eventually ending up in an odd looking brown. Nothing was distinct from the other, obscured by the fog of your mind. There’s a subtle pounding at the back of your mind but it wasn’t really there, more of a sensation making your mind fall flat. Eyes rolled into the back of your head and your breath seemed deeper, encasing your body in the lightness it brought.

Everything was brown. An uncreative color, swamping your sight, blocking your thoughts from being real. It seemed the whole of the world was covered in a fuzziness, and everything felt numb. Too numb to be real, but it was the only thing that existed, so you felt it despite it’s lack of feeling when it graced your fingers. Like holding air.

He kicks your leg, waking you up from your trance.

“You’re helpless without me,” he says, and you glare at him again. He’s used to the look and doesn’t react with anything but a dirty smile. Despite his dirty face and unruly hair, his teeth are pretty much perfect.

“I’m fine without you,” you mumble, resuming eating. He’s sliding in next to you, crowding your space even though there’s plenty of room on either side of you. His thigh and arm are right up against you, open skin on the rough cloth of your jacket.

“One a’ these days, I’m not gonna be there and you’re gonna get shot,” he teases, and you don’t think about how he’s not wrong.

You don’t think about it at all.

When he’s waking you up in the dead of night from your slumber inside your tent, you don’t think about him. You don’t think at all, grabbing your gun from your bedside immediately. He jumps back as you grab it, holding his hands out like you’re about to shoot him.

“Careful there Songbird,” he says, coming slowly closer as you let your arms drop.

“What’s wrong?” You ask as soon as he stops talking.

“… Nothin’. You were tossin’, thought you were having some kind a’ nightmare,” he says, looking confused at you as he steps back to his own cot.

“No,” you say.

“Alright, fine.”

He sits back on his cot, but you don’t put your gun back down, and you don’t lie back down. He doesn’t either.

“Why do you hate me?” He asks, but you have an immediate answer in the form of a question.

“Why do you like me?”

He scowls like you’d offended him. In one quick movement he lies down, the flimsy blanket over his shoulders, his back turned to you once more.

You want to leave it at that. You want to put the stupid gun down and go to sleep, ignore the whole conversation, but you can feel animosity and contrition stinging the air, thick with emotion as it drifted over to you. You know you said the wrong thing.

“Good night,” you say, never having said that to him before. You weren’t sure when the last time you said that was in general - probably when you were back in the States. As you lie down you hear him breathe deeply.

“‘Night, Birdie,” he says, and all is forgotten.

There’s nothing to do when you wake up. You sit there, staring at the ceiling. Snafu asks what you’re doing, but you don’t reply for several minutes, so he leaves you alone. Your eyes are open, you’re not drifting off. He stays in the tent for a while with a few of your other tent mates before wandering off, leaving you in your sleep clothes, still covered in your blanket, staring at the mesh ceiling.

You don’t think too much. Thoughts infect you despite your attempts to ward them off, whispering doubts into your head, and you wonder.

This man is helping you. You’ve never done a thing for him. You’ve never even been nice to him, and still he’s helping you, waking you up, making sure you don’t spiral, making sure you’re still firing.

Even through all your thoughts you don’t shift a muscle. Sometimes your eyes twitch slightly to the left or right but they stay still for the most part. It’s only when evening comes that anyone asks you of anything.

“C’mon, gotta eat something,” Snafu says, pushing you with his hand. He then turns back around, flipping his ripped, dirty shirt around in the air.

It’s a conscious thought, moving every muscle in your body takes up an enormous amount of both mental and physical energy. As soon as your finger twitches though, a panic seizes your heart and every emotion inflames ten times it’s normal size. Everything overcrowds your air and your heart beats too fast, breaking away at the bones holding everything in place.

You choke on your own tongue, losing your breath with every blink of your eyes. It feels like there’s anvils covering your body, pressing you into the ground with their unrelenting weight.  But there’s a touch on your shoulder and for a moment, it feels like there’s nothing but clouds.

“Come back down Songbird, come on,” he says, and you can feel his heat coursing through your blood through the contact he makes, even through his breath speaking right next to your head.

When you can finally breathe again, your head pounds intensely, making you sick like your brain was replaced with vomit. Snafu’s hanging over you, his brow furrowed and mouth parted just slightly.

“You okay?” He asks, his hand on your cheek in a much more intimate manner. It’s weird, and the contact is unlike anything you’d felt in months, if not all your life. Shivers course down your spine, and it does nothing for the anxiety reverberating through your veins. You bolt upright, the sudden movement sending a pulse of pain to your head that debilitates you.

“I’m fine. Lost my breath,” you say, a flimsy excuse. You knew what it felt like, it felt like you were dying, but it was just a panic attack. Just a panic attack.

“You were choking.”

“And you’re ugly, we’re all a little obvious aren’t we?”

You stand, forcing him off your cot. He doesn’t move past that though, standing chest to chest with you, though he’s slightly shorter. You wait for him to move, slightly winded by your movement, but he doesn’t, his own breathing quickened. You frown, confused as hell as to why he’s like this - why does he insist on bothering you all the time?

Instead of asking him, you push him out of the way. It’s a gentle push but he still looks as offended as he did last night, like he’s saying to himself how dare you not put up with my bullshit without complaint?

Still, he moves, and the two of you eat, him still sitting uncomfortably close as he touches as much of you as he can. His thigh is pressed against yours, the naked skin of his arm still hot against your jacket. You don’t mention it, you try not to act like you notice, like it’s not crowding the processes of your mind. It doesn’t bother you.

You have a hard time convincing yourself of that.

Especially, when out of sight of anyone else, he starts using his left hand sitting beside yours to trace the veins of your arm. You swallow thick, and suddenly you can barely even taste the food anymore.

He loves to piss you off.

Yeah, you tell yourself, that’s what he’s doing. Pissing you off. In fact, he can’t get enough of it, because every meal from that point on, when no one is looking, he traces your skin. Nonsensical shapes most of the time, lines, tracing from freckle to freckle but sometimes you swear he’s writing letters. Scribbling down something with feather touch, drawing something he never wants seen.

It’s raining hard this morning, wind blowing sheets of rain against the tents. Whenever you go outside it hits like tiny daggers, so you elect to stay inside, only going out for necessity. It’s a quiet day, so most of your tent mates are in as well. Snafu is sitting across from you on his cot, reading a book you know he’s read over five times.

It’s the perfect time to drift off, to only feel one thing. It’s addicting, but lately you haven’t been doing it as much as you’d like to. Lying down on your own cot, looking over at Snafu, you find you don’t want him to worry.

It’s an odd feeling.

The next time you’re in a shootout you can’t find him anywhere, and for the first time in a long, long while you felt fear. Actual fear, the kind that flows freely through you without hesitation, like all the experience suddenly meant nothing. Even with your shaking hands and blurry eyes you manage to shoot, keeping aim, keep shooting, keep shooting.

You keep shooting blindly as the mantra repeats chaotically in your head, repeating over and over, overlapping on itself as you feel your breath quicken. Everything is a blur and you can’t feel a single thing.

All you feel is the weight in your hands.

All you feel is the jump of the gun.

Till all you can feel is the bullet in your chest.

You fall, blinking rapidly as the sky seems to change color. Your breath escapes you in rapid pants and you desperately cling to what little air you can. Bringing your hands up to your chest, they get painted red.

Then he decides to show up.

“Birdie, fuck,” he says immediately, his words slurred in your head as he crawls up next to you, out of the way of the fire. He clings to you like it’s the only thing grounding him, like holding you closer to him will save you.

“Snaf,” you whisper out with the little air you have, grasping his arm. It’s all you have. It’s all you’re going to know. There’s spots in your vision and you can’t feel anything below your torso - you know this isn’t going to end well.

“Hey, hang in there, you’re gonna be okay,” he says, and one thing you see clearly is the red in his eyes. He’s crying. For someone who’s never been anything but mean to him. You wonder with your own blurry eyes why he cared so much. He looks up, his cold tears falling onto your face as he searches desperately for a medic.

“Merriel,” you murmur, still clutching his arm with your death grip. You tug, and with that he looks back down at you, his entire face a mess, all covered in dirt and cut up. He leans in, pressing his head into your neck. It’s embarrassingly hot on your empty skin, such a stark difference from the cold numbness of everything else.

“I love you,” he cries softly into your skin, and it all comes crashing down on you. As he repeats the words over and over again you remember every single thing he’s ever done for you and you wonder how you could’ve been such an asshole. And as he presses a wet with tears kiss to your neck, you realize you love him too.

You try to get the words out but they won’t come, the breath wasted on the begging of his name on your lips. With cruel fate his tears fall upon your lips, taunting you for your own inability to speak causing his misery.

With what little energy you have you expend it on raising your hand, bringing it to his face to direct him. He follows where you lead and, in the pouring rain, knee deep in mud and bullets and mortar shells, you kiss him. He weighs heavy against you but so do your clothes, so does the rain, so does the gun in your lap.

So does the weight of everything you missed out on.

It’s heavier than anything.

The last thing you feel is his lips, and the last thing you hear is him whispering against them, saying ‘I love you,’ over and over again.

What could’ve been haunts you to your last breath, which comes sooner than a kinder God would have allowed.

[fircbcrn-blog]

hello frands !! it is me, admin c, introducing my final and most fire muse, bok emrys otherwise known as rhys. beneath the cut you can find a couple of pointers and basics on him, like this for plotting as you can expect and i’ll get to those im’s as fast as i can !! you can find his stats here for some idea and overview of him:

so rhys is like this edgy biker boy but with a heart of gold who is rlly a super big softie, he just looks like an intimidating biker boi with his style.

he falls in love with everything but i don’t mean like he’ll fuck anything with a pulse kind of love or oh wow u were nice to me and now i adore u and want to run off into the sunset, i mean he’s just in love with the world around him i mean it’s a shitty fuckin place sometimes but he sees the small beauties in it, the miracles of nature and human behavior that isn’t learned but just inherent to us and he thinks its fuckin magical so sue him

very wise and mature and down to earth as a person, despite being super popular because he just comes across as very cool and easygoing and in general easy to get along with plus he’s a total heart throb in the modelling world.

pretty artsy for a living, very much a creative soul. he paints and sketches and can mould things and he does actually commission it and earn a decent amount from it but his main career and income comes from the modelling definitely. bc ya know business for artists in general just isn’t amazing even for the richer few.

super in touch with the world and at peace with himself, like he is an immovable force nothing you say or do to him will upset him bc he’s just like lol that’s ur opinion and perspective ig and ur entitled to it so go off but imma do me thanks.

pansexual iCoN, he will love anyone pretty down who he can see something good in and he can see good in basically anything other than actual dictators obviously.

guru of life advice, people often come to him because he offers a sense of stability and security without getting his own emotions attached just from his presence alone and the atmosphere he surrounds himself with.

exudes charisma and magnetism we stAn, fully sits around with fancy expensive wine and his art in his super cosy yet modern and majorly artistic big ass penthouse suite apartment studio and walks around in open blazers shirtless with his long hair all pushed back and wet like the queer bohemian pixie that he is uNF.

he definitely has an approachable just creative and exciting persona without making you feel like you have to be wild to be alive with him. he’s also very spiritual

boi does yoga every morning and meditates every night without fail, very aware of mindfulness and does the exercises for it a lot, very aware of his health and keeps like excessively on top of it. he’s buddhist so he believes in the chakras, is interested in white magic and crystal healing too though, definitely practices feng shui, don’t fuck with his feng shui

he is a dancer however he doesn’t do dance as a full time gig bc he’s worried it would eat away at his time and take away from his other passions but ye he be a busy boi but he choreographs a lot and does cover videos on youtube that are pretty popular.

he gets a reputation from the media for being a ‘playboy’ bc he’s deemed a heart throb fUNNILY enough he is the furthest thing from that, but everyone finds him attractive and tries to get him into scandals. he deffo does have flings like the average amount as anyone else but HERES THE THING…

rhys is an idiot and he has a thing for people who think they’re gods gift who are all don’t go falling in love with me and part of me thinks he likes it for the thrill a lOT as well bc he’s too laidback for that trap so he’s all yeah as if bud u would have to change ur act a loT for that to be possible and they get shooketh like HOLD UP WAIT A SECOND-

he does not have their shit if they do the whole im such a hardass and i don’t do commitment but they want him to fall for them rlly he’s like okay good for u see u in like a week when u wanna fuck again until then i’ll be busy with my perfectly substantial life which i don’t need u in anyway dude

big bitch u aint special energy bc no one is and everybody got other priorities to put first depending on what they choose so like lemme know when u wanna get ur act together if not we can chill

but he a good boi he just floats around the place with his shirtless blazer self all here have a sprinkling of wisdom beyond my years and compassion mi casa su casa bby make urself at home in my crafty creative den.

( @hijinae​ ) is like a sister figure to him bc they perfectly match in persona’s and energies and she is very close to his familia, they are also adoptive siblings when rhys’ parents legally take custody of jinae. SIBLING POWER DUO I TELL U NOW they’re literally like siblings who are each other’s missing halves and best friends.  had they have been biological they would probably have been twins

PLOT IDEAS:

so here’s a few loose ideas to throw around until i have more time to sort a plot page out for him :

but of course some of his much loved flings especially his fave messy boy toys bring em to me

modelling rivals potentially who don’t actually want to be rivals at all but the media simply makes them out that way

dance buddies

running buddies

maybe some people who can help him manage his art business prospects and side of things

best friends bc who don’t love that

childhood friends

friends from overseas yES pls not just america but like china and japan, where he spent time as well..

modelling elite socialite squad u know like kylie and her besties type shit always posing with each other on instagram and going to shows together or promoting together

ex’s bc that’s fun and spicy

childhood love

childhood best friend

frenemies

friends he’s made internationally bc of music or dance or even modelling and got close with

good influence and bad influence either way works with him being the influencer or the one influenced

people interested in spirituality or buddhism and maybe looking to him as a guide on it all

honestly anything else u can think of even maybe a past unrequited love, his first ever boyfriend or girlfriend or just experience with either (also open to non-binary muses ofc) just hit me with it all and i will happily work with it

[noahcdaily]

Noah Centineo, Shameless Heartthrob

My date with the best thirst architect the internet’s ever seen.

Now, I put my hand here,” Noah Centineo instructs as he slides his hand in the back pocket of my jeans. “And then we walk a little, like this.” He leads me around the Coney Island Aquarium like that: hip to hip, smiling at each other, his hand, to reiterate, in the back pocket of my jeans. I’ve just shamelessly asked him to re-create his signature move from Netflix’s To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before, an adaptation of Jenny Han’s YA novel, in which he plays Peter Kavinsky, the high-school jock at the center of the film’s romantic plotline. I watched the movie and mentally flagged this scene — where he’s trying to convince a cafeteria full of students he’s dating the protagonist, Lara Jean Covey (Lana Condor) — as the one that made me wonder, Who is that guy? It’s a moment that belongs in a clip reel of classic, chemistry-laden movie moments, and I, a journalist, wondered if it could inspire the same feelings when executed in real life.

Centineo tells me how he totally improvised the move during filming. It was a thing he used to do with his ex-girlfriend. They’d be walking around, like we are now, and he’d realized he could sort of dance her around by the pocket and turn her, “just like this,” and boom, propelled by just a tug on my pocket, I’m suddenly facing him. We’re pelvis to pelvis. He’s smiling, comfortably, and I’m confronted with his hazel eyes, the scent of clean laundry, and pure pheromones. I sort of squeal, I think? Who can say, because I definitely black out for a second.

If I seem thirsty, well, isn’t that the point? At 22, Centineo is the most effective, addictive sort of heartthrob: the kind who absolutely loves being one, the kind who does everything in his power to make us thirst harder than we’ve ever thirsted before — and, yeah, it works. When the movie came out in August, Noah Centineo was immediately, breathlessly given the title of Internet’s Boyfriend. Now, with his second Netflix rom-com, Sierra Burgess Is a Loser, in which he plays yet another lovable, evolved jock, Centineo has graduated to full-on cultural obsession.

In less than a month his Instagram followers went from just under 800,000 to 9.5 million. In the movie, his character drives crosstown to buy his love interest her favorite Korean yogurt drinks — and no joke — Yakult stock has been going up. This man’s floppy hair is actually driving the market. He’s been stalked by fans and now employs an omnipresent security guard named Dave. He’s been the subject of a leaked nude scandal (“I understand why you have to ask that question,” he demurred when I asked him about a certain video that’s been making the rounds. “I just hope you understand why I’m not gonna answer it.”). His Twitter mentions are an anthology of fantasies — some chaste and some really not — written by women of all ages. “Tell them all to hit my line,” he says with a laugh.

We decide to tour the aquarium, where I’m idly waiting for him in the lobby when he walks in shirtless. Shirtless. Without a shirt. Holding his black T-shirt in his hand, instead of wearing it on his torso, which I can see right now. With my eyes. He has a real reason. He’s just been outside, taking pictures on a boardwalk in nearly 100-degree weather. But even with a rational explanation as to why he has no shirt on, the entrance is so on the nose it’s almost ridiculous: a smoking-hot leading man, walking into a room sweaty and half-naked. It’s like there should be a slowed-down frame rate, a treacly indie-pop song playing, a zoom-in of my pupils turning into those hunga hunga hearts. He hands his ticket to the woman at the front desk and apologizes, for some reason, for his bare chest. She makes him put his shirt back on, and greets me with a smile so huge, I can assure you he has zero cavities.

Even offscreen, Centineo, I observe immediately, has that whole thing. It wasn’t just good directing or the right song cued at the right moment that created the effect. He has all the qualities deemed necessary by early-in-life fans of Teen Bop and Devon Sawa at the end of Casper: white sneakers (Vans, of course), an easy charm, and a tendency to play it fast and loose with knowing, meaningful eye contact that says “I see you.” He knows the right way to lean against a wall, how to twirl a specific clump of hair so it slouches over one eye. He’s even got an imperfection you can moon over: this tiny scar on his chin from where his dog tried to rip his face off when he was a kid. When he greets me with a hug, it’s the kind of genuine, intentional, full-body contact that makes me feel like he’d write me a letter every day and build me a house.

“I’ve always played the love interest,” Centineo says. “I’ve trained for it for a while. These roles are just molds I can pour myself into.” He grew up in Miami, with a few years’ interlude in Park City, which he hated because he never felt like he fit in. He started acting as a preteen when he attended a general casting call sort of on a lark, but he enjoyed it so much he eventually dropped out of his Boca Raton high school sophomore year and moved to Los Angeles with his mom to pursue it full-time. Since then Centineo’s been playing graduating levels of “crush”: first on a tween-friendly Disney show Austin & Ally, then on a teen-friendly Freeform show, The Fosters, and now for admiring audiences of all ages on Netflix rom-coms (To All the Boys, Sierra Burgess, and one deep cut for the algorithm-determined real fans, SPF 18.)

“I like this rowboat. Do you want to sit in this rowboat,” he asks, upon discovering a fake rowboat stuck in the corner of an exhibition about ponds. (Fake rowboat, a move.) Ever the leading man, he gets in first to steady the fake boat, and helps me in. Then, he directs yet another adorable moment for us, and starts rocking the boat back and forth, like we’re on a real pond, laughing this huge, full-throated laugh like the only thing he’s ever wanted to do was crouch in a plastic rowboat with me. And even though we both know the answer to the question, I ask, “Why do you think everyone is going nuts over you right now?”

“People love love,” he says, and begins to explain how both of his recent movies “empower” people. “I think these are just great examples of feel-good films, how could you not like something that makes you feel good?”

He stops talking and looks at me, a little concerned. “If you’re still warm, we should move,” he suggests, perhaps noticing the sweat pouring from my forehead and rolling down to my chin. It’s such a hot day, even the AC inside has given up. “I just want you to feel comfortable,” he says thoughtfully, adding, “Don’t worry, I also sweat like a motherfucker.”

It’s now his mission to find the coolest spot in the aquarium. He leads me down some stairs, back up the same stairs once he realizes they lead to a bathroom. We go around all the exhibits, while he looks up at the ceiling, in the corners, searching for an air vent, determined to find the perfect spot to get the full blast. We finally do. “Can you feel it?” he asks, one last time, before he seems satisfied, parked in front of a manmade reef. It’s a specific sort of gallantry I recognize from his roles, the ones he describes as manly and masculine, but also “sensitive, emotionally intelligent, loving, nurturing, and protective.”

“That’s just what a great man is in life and in general,” he shrugs. In his two most well-known parts (both of which occurred in the past month) he plays an updated version of a familiar type of crush. In To All the Boys, a lacrosse player who loves Fight Club but drinks kombucha and falls for the film’s Korean-American protagonist. In the other, Sierra Burgess, a quarterback who thinks the cheerleader is way hot, but instead falls for the brainy girl who catfishes him. In both, he displays a preference for the unexpected love interest. In both, he drives a Jeep Wrangler, the preeminent car of teen crushes. He’s not the mysterious, brooding type à la Robert Pattinson in Twilight, he doesn’t have the cold, intellectual appeal of Timothée Chalamet’s character in Lady Bird. He’s not pure Zac Efron dumb-hot-frat boy or even the misunderstood, sexually experienced bad boy like the ones Adam Driver plays. What Centineo does well — and what nobody has really done with such conviction since Freddie Prinze Jr. — is play a simple, suburban-mall kind of crush with Stanislavski dedication. That’s it. He’s just fully nice and hot at a time that feels like “nice and hot” is a rare resource. He’s a throwback to a more classic sort of wish fulfillment.

In fact, Centineo can see a whole career based around this: being good at love. He imagines all the potential types of roles he can explore: romantic dramas, other types of rom-coms, action romantic comedies, edgier, more toxic and dangerous types of love. “There’s so many degrees to love. I think I have a lot more to offer the space,” he says. He’s got a few projects lined up already, most notably a movie coming out in 2019 called The Stand-In. He plays a post-grad who launches a start-up, which requires him to loan himself out as a fake boyfriend.

“Whoa whoa! That motherfucker just came through so quick! He ran up on us with his boy.”

Centineo jumps back and marvels at some large fish that just came swimming right at his head. He makes a kissy-fish face back at the fish. What a lovely time we’re having. Looking at fish! Then he points to a placard and carefully reads out the description for Slippery Dick, a type of fish native to this particular tank, and chuckles. Then I read one about the French Grunt. I have no idea what’s going on. I point to a particularly fascinating fish, and he leans in to see, angling his head so his hair brushes my hand. Our arms accidentally touch.

“How’d you get so good at flirting,” I’m compelled to ask.

“Am I flirting?” he laughs and leans and looks down at the floor. “I don’t know — I’m fucking so romantic. Like, such a romantic — it’s not even funny. I can’t help it. I swear to God, like, every day, the majority of my day is sentimental. You know, I’m thinking about past relationships I’ve been in, how I miss them so much or what I would do different, or why I wanna be with them again, or just moments I’d like to go back to or I know why I shouldn’t go back, and then you know, it’s just constantly love, love, love.”

He’s a Taurus, ruled by Venus, he offers by way of explanation. “That means a couple things: one, like I need a lot of nurturing, and two, Venus is love, I’m ruled by love.” His favorite movie is Gaspar Noe’s Love, his favorite feeling is being in love (which he has been, twice). I bet if you could cook Love and serve it over pasta, it would be his favorite meal. He lives, breathes, and expels love. His Instagram is a steady stream of soul-baring, puppy-dog-eyed selfies — “I’m pretty vain,” he jokes. His Twitter alternates between sort of yoga studio platitudes and vague flirtations like “Fuck…you’re so cute,” or, more in line with my personal interests, “THE BLACKER THE BERRY.”The messages are to nobody specific, he says — he’s single right now — they could be to somebody he just met, or he met before, or he saw across the room, or just to everybody.

Dating is going to be hard for him from now on, he suspects, even though he really doesn’t want to change how he pursues someone he likes (open-heartedly, passionately, purely) but he’s started worrying about the reasons people want to date him. Is it just because he’s more famous now? Do they just want to date Peter Kavinksy? But are Kavinsky and Centineo really so different?  “I’m definitely not as innocent—” he says, with a gaze, because why say anything if you aren’t going to commit.

Centineo continues to list the differences, both philosophical and material: He’s more apt to jump out of a plane or just sit in nature than his characters. He doesn’t live in the suburbs, he lives in Los Angeles with his older sister and her boyfriend. He likes yoga and martial arts. He parties with friends. He starts every day at 6 a.m. with oatmeal, the recipe for which he begins detail, slowly: “I do Irish steel-cut oats, I do almond butter, coconut butter uh, coconut oil, honey, uh, chopped bananas, and, and, uh, like, hemp granola,” and I’m struck with this familiar feeling of being completely entranced by a man saying absolutely nothing interesting to me, which, oh right, yes, is infatuation.

[shreyamistry]

April Fools In Cordonia (Hana x MC -Riley Velour-) (Liam x Drake)

Notes: As I was tagged by the lovely @boneandfur to participate in April Choices created by @laniquelove (it will not let me tag you sorry), thank you again. With that, I bring you this fic, there is “nsfw” prank, but it’s not actual smut, but just in case it makes you uncomfortable. 

Summary: After discovering what April Fools Day is, Hana decides she wants to partake in this American tradition. She and Riley decide to challenge Drake and Liam to a prank war, and the losers have to make the other team dinner and serve it to them.

“April Fools Day?” Hana inquiries, at the devious smile on Riley’s face. “How does one participate in such an event? We haven’t had jesters in years, Riley.”

Riley laughed heartily at her fiance, leaning over to place her hand on Hana’s knee. She steadies herself, letting her gaze fall into Hana’s piercing eyes smiling at her. “April Fools Day isn’t about appreciating fools, Hana! It’s about playing tricks on people and having fun. Like when I was 7, there was no school on April 1st but my mom got me up and ready for school and then as we pulled up to the school she drove past it and told me. I yelled and she laughed and we went out for breakfast.”

“That’s adorable, Riley.” Hana smiles. “Who do we trick? Drake and Liam won’t be too happy about us waking them for a meeting and pretending to take them to the meeting, but instead meeting for breakfast.”

Riley laughs, brushing a strand of Hana’s hair into the place leaning into place a soft kiss on her cheek. “You don’t have to do just that Hana.” Riley forgets sometimes how much Hana has no knowledge of holidays and prank after growing up with her parents.

“What ever do you mean?” Hana asked cluelessly, watching Riley with careful eyes. Riley holds back a chuckle.

“You can play any practical joke you want Hana.” Riley explains, “You can do anything you can think of, within reason of course. Your jokes should never be hurtful, but that doesn’t stop some people.”

“So who would we April fools?” Hana asks, she grabs her water off the table sucking in her drink through her straw, before swirling the ice and lemons with the straw looking back at Riley. “We could couples prank Liam and Drake!”

“They’re not supposed to know we’re going to prank them, Hana, we can’t challenge them to a duel!” Riley protests.

“It’s Cordonia! We can celebrate April Fools however we choose! Wouldn’t it be fun to outpace them? We could set up a prize.” Hana further explains turning to face Riley completely. “Just imagine the frown on Drake’s face when we win.”

“I love the way you think,” Riley smirks leaning in to press a kiss against Hana’s lips. “We can’t lose!”

“I’m in!” Liam smiles nudging Drake with his elbow. “Come on, babe! We could definitely have fun, don’t make me team with Maxwell.”

“Maxwell can’t even keep a secret, he’d tell Riley your pranks before setting them up,” Drake comments, crossing his arms over his chest. “Seriously, why bother. April Fools Day is stupid.”

As much as he wanted to spend time with Liam, April Fools just felt childish. Wasn’t there another less stupid Holiday Velour could be obsessed with, like Halloween. At least then you get to dress up and eat your weight in candy. But then again, for Liam, he’d do just about anything.

“Drake, just say yes and be bitter in private.” Riley laughs, playfully punching his arm. He shoots her a glare before looking back to Liam’s pleading eyes with a smile plastered on his face, Drake rolled his eyes letting his head fall to the side.

“Does it mean that much to you, Liam?”

“You should know I enjoy learning other cultures, Drake,” Liam replies. “And yes, it would mean a very lot to me. Please.” Liam leans in pressing a kiss on Drake's cheek. “You know you want to show Riley we’re superior as you would say.”

“I don’t use the word superior, but fine. I’m in.” Drake caves with a soft smile. Liam smiles back at him.

“Splendid!” Hana squeals. “I’m so excited for my first Fools Day! Come, Lady Riley, we must prepare.”

“Hope you have a thousand dollars laying around, because when we win we won’t settle for cheap wine!” Riley calls after Liam and Drake. Drake laughs.

“In your dreams Velour.” Drake calls back. “My favorite whiskey is twice that price hope you saved enough tips from waitressing.” Liam rolls his eyes smiling cheerfully at his fiance.

“See you later Lady Nicole, Lady Hana,” Liam calls after them getting a smile from Hana in return before they turned the corner disappearing down the hallway, with that Liam turns back to Drake. “Must you?” Liam asks, with a grin.

“I must,” Drake affirms him. Drake leans against the table taking Liam’s hand and intertwining their fingers with a soft smile.

“Come then, we must prepare.” leading Drake by the hand out of the dining hall Liam beams unable to stop grinning to himself. They walk towards Liam’s bedroom to begin planning, as Liam turns to Drake at the foot of the staircase leading up to the suites.

“You know, that’s not such a commendable attitude from a future King, my mother would scold you,” Liam states, causing Drake to smile at him with a laugh. “She’d tell you to act more proper around women of high status.”

“Considering Velour, Hana, and I are friends I’m not sure it applies in a private setting. That and I don’t care.” Drake nods, “Besides, I’m sure she’d say the same about your passion for public-”

“Please don’t finish that statement, commoner,” Madeline interjects appearing from out of nowhere with a few papers in her arms, Drake glares at her, about to say something snarky only to be cut off by Madeline. “Sorry to interrupt, well not really, but I bring news from Lady Penelope.”

Riley and Hana hide under the dining table huddled up to one another. Hana wipes the back of her hand against her forehead taking a deep breath, smudging chocolate onto her skin. Riley giggles at her, biting her tongue to suppress any sounds.

“What?” Hana whispers with an amused smirk. “Why are you laughing at me?”

“You have-” Riley motions to Hana’s forehead, “Some chocolate on your face.”

“Oh dear.” Hana sighs, looking at her hand realizing they're still covered in chocolate. “I didn’t expect Liam and Drake to go all out.” Hana comments, she grimaces before licking her two fingers of her clean hand and using it to wipe away the chocolate on her the back of her other hand. “I thought we’d win this with no worries.”

“My overconfident chocolate monster.” Riley smiles, wetting her handkerchief with her spit. She leans close to Hana wiping away the dried chocolate on her face softly not to pull on her skin. “We are one prank ahead of them, let me text Maxwell to see if he has one more trick up his sleeve, so in case they pull another one on us we can still win.”

Hana nods, as Riley tucks the handkerchief into her pocket, placing a soft kiss on Hana’s now clean forehead. She retrieves her phone from the back pocket of her jeans holding it up in front of the both of them as she clicks on Maxwell’s contact information.

“I can’t believe they rigged our bathroom to throw chocolate at us. Let alone than to rig our bedroom door exactly afterward to drop feathers on us.” Hana contemplates how thought out they were being. She and Riley we’re thriving at first and managed to get five ahead in the first hour of their competition, things went south quickly.

“Luckily, only you were hit with chocolate and me the feathers, otherwise you’d be looking like a very tasty chocolate chicken.” Riley laughs, before covering her mouth. “We need to be quiet so we can hide the rest of this out before they catch us.”

“Five minutes left, do you think we’ll lose?”

“No way, Drake and Liam aren’t that slick,” Riley confirms. “Well, maybe Drake, but Liam no way.” Riley nods, frowning to herself. She leans her head to the side, tapping her index finger against her cheek when she’s interrupted by the sound of laughter and feet walking into the room.

“I think we lost them, Drake.”

Hana and Riley exchange a look. ‘Liam?’ Hana mouths, Riley nods pressing her finger to her lip.

“I can’t believe you let us lose to the American.”

“Aw, how can I make it up to you sexy?”

“Come here.”

Riley and Hana exchange a look, as they see Liam’s heels approaching the table and the sound of someone sitting down on the table before they see Drake’s legs approaching between Liam’s. Riley holds back laughter listening to the sound of Drake and Liam kiss, Hana looks bashfully away, feeling like she’s intruding on their moment.

“Ooh, Drake…”

“Shut up Liam, or we’re gonna get caught.”

“Come on, the staff isn’t going to be up for a few hours, we can be as loud as we want.”

Hana meets Riley’s eyes, ‘Scandalous!’ Riley nods covering her mouth. The sound of clothes hitting the floor pulls them away as two t-shirts collide with the floor. Riley presses her hand against Hana’s mouth to stop her from gasping audibly.

“Drake.” Riley's eyes grow loud as Liam moans loudly.

“Get your pants off.”

Riley and Hana share a look knowing they need to stop now before they hear something they don’t want to. “YOUR MAJESTY WITH ALL DUE RESPECT PLEASE LEAVE YOUR PANTS ON,” Hana calls out climbing out from under the table coming face to face with Liam and Drake fully dressed with a few pairs of jeans and underwear laying on the table next to them. Liam smiles at Hana’s shocked face, meeting Riley’s eyes who wears the same look.

“You were shirtless and about to engage in sex.” Riley breathed heavily, clutching her heart with her hand. “You were- I swear- it sounded so real. You were really going to pretend that far, that you brought pants and underwear?”

“Got you.” Liam laughs. “Sorry, Lady Riley, Lady Hana, we wanted to win.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t last longer.” Drake shrugged. “It’s not like we were actually going to do it, Velour.”

“This was a prank? You were going to pretend to have sex.” Riley asks.

“Preciously.” Liam nods.

“Genius,” Hana mutters. “We’re tied now, anyone have any other pranks set up?” Everyone looked around the room at each other knowing they were all out of ideas.

“Sadly, no. Maxwell suggested 15 would suffice.”

“He told us the same thing,” Riley replied, looking intently at the group.

“He told us 15 each for what reason?” Hana asked.

“That bast-” Before Drake could finish his statement the sound of someone yelling caused them all to look towards the door to see Maxwell throwing water balloons at them, before anyone could react Drake and Liam were soaked with a spiraling balloon, Riley, however, managed to dodge in front of Hana deflecting her from the hit as the water balloon broke against her chest still managing to slightly splash Hana. Dripping with water Drake huffed, throwing his hand out as water flung off of it.

“The Beaumont is always the unsuspecting winner. I look forward to the dinner the four of you shall prepare for me tonight.” Maxwell smiles.

“You tricked us, Maxwell!” Hana calls out with a laugh. 

“I wanted a free dinner and a night with my friends.” Maxwell shrugs.

“We were bested by fucking Maxwell.” Drake groaned.

“I still have my waitress uniform.” Riley laughs. “Drake! You can be the waitress tonight.”

“No, absolutely not.” Drake shakes his head.

“Maxwell won, he gets to choose, love.” Liam smiles, suppressing a grin. He rests his hand on Drake's shoulder placing a soft kiss o his cheek. “You’ll look cute.”

Hana aws, turning to Maxwell. “What’ll it be Maxwell? Will Drake be your waitress tonight?”

“I swear to god Max-” Drake begins to threaten only to get cut off by Maxwell, and Hana’s laughter.

“Drake is the waitress! Riley get your uniform!” Maxwell smiles, triumphantly throwing his fist into the air as everyone starts laughing except for Drake who’s glaring daggers at everyone. Liam pulls him closer laughing.

“RILEY!”

[silviasutton1989]

Drake Always Matters Now

Summarry: Riley has a hard time controlling her thoughts when she goes to the Cordonian Barn Raising Charity.

Word Count 1300+

Rating: T (jut naught thoughts)

Note: I found this picture trying to find strong working men shirtless (Yes that’s what I googled lol). Then I saw Alcide ( although I do think Drake looks hot shirtless he probably is NO Alcide but hey close enough) and if you don’t know who this man is or you never watched True Blood you need to find the show! (give you something to binge till TRR3 comes) @everythingchoices @choicesfanficlibrary

The press circle Riley, cameras flashing, with the help of the bright sun, block her sense of vision as they berate her with questions. The Cordonian Barn Raising Charity would be the first time the press would be able to actually get near her, and they took the opportunity in stride following her through the farm fields.

"Lady Riley are you trying to use this charity event to get into the Codonian people's good graces after your scandal?

"Lady Riley over here! How do you feel about King Liam's choice for our queen?"

"Miss Riley why haven't you gone back to your home? Why are you leeching on the Cordonian's tax money ?"

Riley stops in her tracks, her cowboy boots dig into the earth as she turns on her heels to face the reportors.

"I love Cordonia and I am very thankful to not only be invited to this country but that my invitation is an open one. I am here today to help a farmer who needs it and rest assured I have no qualms going to any charity event for however long my stay will be. This is one of the most beautiful lands I have ever seen that have some of the most beautiful people in it.I would like to show my appreciation by being as charitable as possible."

Maxwell scruffs through the press and wraps his arm around a flustered Riley.

"Thank you for those sweet words That will be all for today guys."

His words paid no mind to the reporters as a long black limo pulls up a few feet away form them. Madeline and Liam step out and the pres swarm them leaving Maxwell and Riley alone.

Riley watches as the two answer questions on how happy they are to be together, how strong their bond is, their arms intertwine as they smile graciously for the cameras.

"That's gotta hurt huh?" Maxwell gives her shoulder a tight squeeze as they watch the spectacle.

"Actually I feel worse for them. You know, coming here, I thought this whole falling in love, becoming queen was a real dream I just never knew I could have. But being here, seeing this life for what it really is...It's all fake. Spending the rest of my life smiling for a camera is ridiculous to me."

Maxwell gives a questionable look as they walk to the bare studded barn. Several nobles are all ready building away.

Riley sees his glances and reassures,"Don't worry. I'm not bailing on you. I made a commitment to the Beaumont family name. I got on this bandwagon and I fully plan to..."

As they reach the barn she sees Drake, shirtless, sweat glistening down his large arms and chest. His tight jeans do nothing to hide the thickness of his thighs and every other bulge they hold.

"...ride him to the wheels fall off."

Riley's mouth waters and she tries to look away but her brain controls nothing at this moment.She watches as his muscles flex to control the rope of a pulley. His grunts are deep and labored, almost a growl, as his body tightens with every movement.

"...IT I MEANT RIDE IT!" She wails snapping out of his trance.

"Sure you did." Maxwell chuckles as they greet Drake and Hanna.

"Hey I'm going to go help out on the other end of the barn. How about we partner up. Riley who do you---"

"I choose Drake!" Riley's voice is an urgent squeal which makes her friends snicker.

The gang splits and Riley tries her hardest to concentrate. With every job he gives her she tries to keep her eyes on his face, but that only leads her to stare at his lips. Which in turn makes her think abut their first kiss at the dinner the other night. She would look onto his neck to see an almost unnoticeable mark. 

God he has such a beautiful strong thick neck... I should have sucked it harder! Look at those shoulders wait are those freckles? Does this man have freckles on his back!! Ahh is he REAL? I just need to touch him. Damn him and his freckles!

While he helped show her how to measure wood, his back pressed up against her arm,  her thoughts got a little wilder.

God even his sweat smells good! What is that cologne or is it just body wash? I want to wash him. Then sit his wet body on a chair and straddle his naked lap and spend all night smelling his entire body. Damn Drake and his smell and his abs and his arms and his pants  and that smile....

Soon she realizes that he is smiling at her. Her hand had found its way on his arm and although she was far too wrapped up in her naughty thoughts to notice, he had.

CRASH!

Their moment ceases from the sound of wood planks that have fallen on top of Kiara.

Drake quickly runs to help her leaving Riley's hand in mid air.

"Damn this Bi--" Riley realizes she was speaking her thoughts aloud and quiets herself as she walks over.

"Merci beaucoup Drake I guess I'm a bit clumsy."

She has a firm grip on his shoulders as he effortlessly lifts her off the ground and to her feet.

"Yeah coming to build a barn house in high heels might do that to you." Riley states, her arms crossed  and her lips pursed tightly shut.

The two share a look and Riley painfully watches as Kiara moves her hands downward to his biceps. Drake senses the tension and removes her hands backing away cautiously.

"Hey how about I leave you two to clean this up I'll go finish those measurements."

He quickly turns and walks away.

Riley turns to Kiara who is still watching Drake walk away.

"It should be illegal for that man to not wear a shirt in public. Or for him to wear one! Je ne peux pas décider!" Kiara says with a chuckle.

Riley doesn't respond, she is stuck between two choices. One was to punch Kiara in the face. No, with the press still around this would't look good. She knew she would have to take a different route.

"Yeah that man sure can wear a pair of jeans out...too bad that's all he is good for."

She begins to work on the wood pieces noticing she had gotten Kiara's attention.

"Excuse moi?"

"Oh you know what I mean Kiara... he's a " -- she whispers-- "a commoner"

"Well so are you. Plus he has advantage. He is the King's best friend, surely at some point Liam will appoint him to be something dignified."

Riley had to think quickly. She couldn't shake the thought that Kiara may have thought about a relationship with Drake much longer than she had. 

"True but he wouldn't take it. Have you ever heard him speak about you nobles?"

She puts a hand on her shoulder, looking straight into Kiara's cautious eyes, trying her hardest to smile softly, like a friend.

"Look you have ambitions..goals...dreams. In a couple of years you could be a diplomat like your father. But Drake will probably be working in this barn. Is this where you want to be? Do you want to throw all you got going away for some broad shoulders, hard abs, and horse dung?"

With that Riley notices that Kiara isn't looking at her anymore, her eyes are focused behind her. She turns around to see Drake only a few steps away . 

He sucks in his bottom lip, shakes his head in disbelief, scoffs and walks away.

"Tu te détends! I'm not going to marry him... I may sleep with him a couple of times." Kiara chuckles as she walks away.

Riley stands where she is, unable to move. Today she made all the wrong choices and the only thing she could muster to say, but only to herself, is "Damn!"

[little-chimchim]

Precious Scandals- Part 4 (End)

Copy of ask: Can i request long wonho smut, were wonho and the reader are both idols and have a “sexy” dance collab due to a music show’s anniversary???

Rating: R

Word Count: 3105

Genre: idol verse! Dating scandal au! angst, smut, fluff (You know the gist)

Pairing: Wonho x Reader

A/N: Wow, it’s done. I feel like it was too short. I really liked this story and I can’t thank you again for the support you guys have given me for this. I love you all and thank you!- Kay

Part 3

You shoved his phone back to him, heart pounding out of your chest. “How can they think that I’m pregnant?” You asked breathlessly, still astounded by the news. Hoseok sighed and skimmed through the article. “It says that you were seen leaving the doctor earlier today.” He looked up to you with furrowed brows.

“Is that all? They’re starting a pregnancy scandal between the two of us because you went to the doctor?” He raised his voice, gripping his phone angrily. “Why are all these people so intent on ruining our careers?” He groaned out in frustration.

You shook your head, “They haven’t had enough celebrity gossip lately and the second that they do, they want to stretch it out as far as they can. It’s entertainment politics.” You sighed. It was the sad truth, they just needed a story and you and Hoseok seemed to be their targets.

You walked back into your room, leaving it open so Hoseok could follow. You sat on the edge of your bed and raked your fingers through your messy hair. “Maybe I could go back to University? My parents always wanted me to become a nurse.” You thought about your options ahead of you. None of them were pleasing to think about.

Hoseok closed the door behind him and quickly made his way to you. He grabbed your shoulders and shook your body. “Snap out of it, we’ll get through this. I thought you were supposed to be the positive one.” He glowered, bringing you out of your depressive state.

You lowered your eyes and leaned forward, setting your head on his firm chest. “Hoseok, how are we going to get out of this? Do we just have to beg and plead, telling the media that we don’t have feelings towards each other and that it’s all a hoax?” You whispered. You felt Hoseok take a deep breath, he ran his fingers through your hair and shook his head.

“Is that the truth though?” He asked.

You brought your head up from his chest and looked at him. “What do you mean?” You had a feeling of what he was implying but you were too scared to say it out loud to him. “Do we have feelings towards each other?”

His words caught you off guard, why was he asking you this? You thought about it for a minute before you shrugged your shoulders. “I don’t know, maybe?” Was all you could seem to get out.

Hoseok smiled and brushed a stray piece of hair away from your eyes. “Maybe? I could tell you that I’ve had feelings since the first week we started working together, but that kind of defeats the purpose of this entire problem, doesn’t it?” He said casually, as if he wasn’t just confessing to you feelings that he had pent up through the months.

You knew this but this was the clarification you needed, well if the kiss wasn’t already enough of a hint. You were attracted to Hoseok, there was no doubt in your mind there. You had also been hiding feelings for the man in front of you, but with the scandal you had buried those feelings deep down.

You were truthfully too afraid to dig them back up, too scared to get caught by the press and have your careers be pulled away even further from you. “This screws things up even more than before,” You sighed. You never wanted things to get this far, not when everything was on the line.

Even though is was getting to be late at night, your phone buzzed in your pocket. You slowly took it out, hoping that it wasn’t your manager texting you about the new allegations against you and Hoseok.

Instead of the frantic texts messages from your ever zealous manager, you were greeted by notifications that were much worse.

Dozens of notifications were being sent to your phone from various social media sites, all commenting on the pregnancy article. You stared at the comments, stunned by the harsh words.

“She should stop being a slut and just leave Wonho alone.”

“She’s just throwing her career away. Good thing she won’t be missed in the group.”

“Y/N is talentless on top of being an idiot. Can’t believe Wonho would see something in her. Maybe he’s just as dumb as her.”

“Would we miss her if she fell off the face of the Earth?”

You read each one out loud. Each one got worse than the last. They were spiteful, horrific comments that you couldn’t process. You continued reading them until they became too unbearable to handle.

You gripped your phone tightly, clicking the phone’s power button. Overcome with emotions, you held the phone tightly and chucked it against the wall. The watched as pieces fell from the phone and onto the ground with a loud thump.

Tears ran down your cheeks. You tried wiping them away with your sleeve, but more flooded out of your eyes. You sunk down into the bed, staring at the ceiling blankly. “I was bullied in middle school” You blurted out once you realized Hoseok was still in the room with you.

When he didn’t answer, you continued on. “I was bullied about my hair because it was to puffy. That’s all it was; childish insults about my hair. None of those kids ever wanted me dead or to disappear.” Your crying had started to slow once you started taking deeper breaths.

Hoseok stood up and walked over to your bed. He rolled over on his side so he could face you on the bed. He ran his thumb over your cheek, wiping away the tears that had fallen onto your skin.

“You know exactly how vicious fans get. They never mean a thing that they say. This will be over soon enough. Our true fans will stop at nothing to support us. I believe in them, and you should too. Those who are saying those things are nothing compared to you. You’re talented, gorgeous, kind-hearted, and above all else you’re the strongest woman that I’ve met. Please don’t let these petty, lowly people get to you. They are nothing and you are everything.” He whispered to you.

With the hand the wasn’t on your face he traced small little shapes into your arm. The little movements were comforting, allowing you to stop crying completely. All that was left from your tears were the tear stains that formed pitiful streaks across your cheeks.

You pressed your lips together, giving him a tight smile. It wasn’t much, but it was all that you could possibly muster. Hoseok grinned and brought you into a long embrace. “There’s the beautiful smile that I wanted to see.”

He pulled away and looked down to you. “Give me tonight. Hell, we can give ourselves one night of joy before it’s ripped away again by the company.” He pleaded with you. Without the direct phrasing, you knew exactly what he was going for.

You nodded your head and grabbed his face, pulling it to yours roughly. If it was for one night, you were more than happy to give in. He pulled you on top of his chest, molding his lips to yours. You pressed your hips into his, feeling his hardening member against your core.

He held on to your hips, guiding you to grind against his erection. You moaned faintly into the kiss, the friction was driving you crazy. Realizing that you both were still clothed, you pulled away from the kiss and sat up. You grabbed the bottom of your shirt and pulled it over your head. You set the shirt next to the two of you and quickly made work with your bra.

Hoseok smiled as he watched you begin removing your clothing. “Aren’t I the one who’s supposed to be doing that?” He teased you, admiring your breasts on full display. He brought he hands up to grab them, but you swat them away playfully.

“Take your clothes off and then I’ll let you touch them,” You smirked as you quickly unbuttoned the top of your own jeans. You got off his lap and pulled the jeans down your legs. Hoseok chuckled and swiftly made work with his clothes.

You had seen him shirtless multiple times on stage. It had become somewhat of his motif.  Hell, you had seen him shirtless during your solo stage with him. Though, nothing prepared you for seeing it fully in front of you.

He was gorgeous, absolutely stunning in every way shape and form. His cocky little smile on his face only added to your excitement. You both pulled your clothes off until you were both left with nothing on.

Hoseok lowered his eyes, looking over your body. He was speechless. All he could do is smile and run the pads of his fingers across the skin of your chest. You blushed, the careful little touches sent little sparks through your body.

Your eyes fluttered shut once you felt his lips on yours. He lowered your body back down on to the bed, pushing your back into the mattress. His mouth slowly left yours, leaving little wet pecks trailing down your neck and chest.

He would stop to suck on little parts of your skin, making sure to leave marks behind. He kissed down your stomach, prolonging the time until he reached your core. He teased little kisses across your hips, causing you to suck in a frustrated breath.

“Hoseok, go down,” You moaned out, wishing that he would go further. Hoseok smirked and looked up to your eyes. “A little impatient are we?” He joked, earning an annoyed groan from you. Hoseok shook his head and went down, replacing his little pecks for longer, hungrier kisses against your skin.

He ran his hands up and down your thighs, spreading them further apart with each stroke. His tongue ran along your folds slowly, teasingly. You reached out and pulled your fingers through his hair, pushing him down further into your core.

He sucked on your swollen clit. You clamped your mouth shut, trying to not scream out from the pleasure. As you felt your orgasm coming, Hoseok pulled away from you, wiping his mouth of your juices.

He grinned and winked at you. “I can’t have you coming yet, love.” He grinned and began stroking his already hard erection. He put a hand on your thigh, making sure that your legs were far spread just for him.

He centered himself at your core and eased his way into you, letting you adjust to his size as he went. You moaned out, it had been a long time since you had sex with someone, possibly since high school.

You clutched on to his back, holding on to him as he began moving in and out of you. He went slowly at first, making sure that you were completely comfortable with him before he picked up his speed.

Once he started moving, there was no stopping him. He snapped his hips into you roughly. Your attempts at staying quiet were slashed when he started this. Your moans started to come out in unison, your breaths were both labored and loud.

You held on to him tighter, wrapping your legs around his back so you could get a better grip on his body.

“I’m close,” you groaned out. Hoseok buried his head into your neck, his thrusts speeding up. Nearly on cue, both of you reached your peaks, screaming out each other’s names.

He collapsed on top of you, catching his breath. He quickly pulled out of you and rolled over on your side. He wrapped his arms around you and held you close to him. You turned over to look up at him, still trying to calm down from your high.

“And this is the part where we both dread tomorrow, when we have to pretend that none of this happened.” You whispered. Hoseok sighed and placed a gentle hand on your cheek. “It’s always a tragedy when you fall for someone you’re not supposed to.” He said sadly. The two of you stayed silent, staring at each other and relishing in the short time you had to be like this.

He took a deep breath and pulled you tighter to him. “In time we’re going to find a way to be together. I’ll make sure of it. Maybe it’ll be a few years from now or a few months. I’ll do anything I can.”

You held up a finger to his lips, silencing him. “No matter how long we wait, Hoseok, we may never get the chance. If we wait too long, our feelings might disappear and if we don’t wait at all then we risk our careers even more. I want to say I love you but it risks everything we have if I do say it.”

Hoseok cast his eyes down and let go of you. “I know Y/N, but the least we could do is try.” He sighed and got up from the bed, grabbing his discarded clothes from the ground. He looked at you before he shrugged them back on.

“And to answer you, I want to say I love you more than anything.” He muttered lowly. He grabbed his things and left the room. You turned over on your side, left cold by the absence of Hoseok.

You closed your eyes and curled up into a ball. The tears that had stopped flowing from your eyes earlier, were finally coming back to you with no sign of stopping.

You sat in the middle of the panel, seated next to Hoseok. There were dozens of press members seated in front of you holding notepads and cameras. You tapped your fingers nervously against the table, your other hand held the water bottle they had given you.

The CEO of the company had decided to organize a press panel to clear up the scandalous rumors. Your manager sat next to you, rubbing your arm carefully. Seokmin sat next to Hoseok, looking at all the press nervously.

“What can you say about these rumors, Y/N?” A woman reporter at the front decided to kick off the panel by asking you a question first. You took a deep breath and lowered your head to the microphone.

“It had started off with Seokmin, our choreographer, telling us to kiss at the end of our performance. When the rumors started circling around that Hoseok and I were in a relationship, I was attacked by fans. I was excommunicated from my group and told not to go into public.” You knew you were already saying much more than you were supposed to, but the pent up anger that you felt was finally being released.

“During this time I had gotten sick with a cold and I went to a doctor. The press saw this and stupidly turned it into a pregnancy scandal. I have been attacked and thrown around because of all of these rumors.” Your voice began to raise when your manager tugged on your sleeve, signalling for you to calm down.

You sighed and quickly moved the microphone away. You were so fed up with everything that you didn’t want to hold back. Though, for posterity's sake, you knew you had to silence yourself.

The reporter jotted down a few notes then turned to Hoseok. “What can you say, Hoseok?” She asked monotonously. Hoseok straightened his poster and leaned forward. “What she says is completely true. We were both pushed into a scandal that wasn’t our fault. Seokmin had lied to you all about the kiss, what we both say is true.” He said everything very short and sweet.

The reporter nodded then looked back up. “Though, are there any thoughts about you and Y/N that you would like the address?” She asked.

Hoseok hesitated before answering her questioned. He licked his lips nervously before leaning back into the mic. “I have no feelings for Y/N whatsoever.” He looked over to you and frowned. You met his eyes but quickly looked away.

You didn’t know what you expected him to say. You had said it yourself last night, you both couldn’t risk the chance of a relationship. His answer was only the right one. It hurt to hear is coming from his lips though. You expected the reporter to ask more questions but you were only greeted by Hoseok’s voice.

“You know what, no. I have been through hell and back with this scandal. I’m allowed a little bit of happiness and it would make me very happy to be able to say that I love Y/N without any consequences. I am still a human, idol or no. We’re allowed to have lives of our own and if fans are not happy that I’m happy, then they are no fans of mine.” He said loudly into the mic.

The room went quiet, everyone in the room stared at him in shock. Hoseok took advantage of the silence and looked at you again. “I love you, Y/N. I don’t care what happens now that I say it.” He said to you.

You stood up from the chair you were in and walked over to him. “And I love you.” You said, finally being able to say the words that you weren’t able to the night prior. Hoseok stood up from his chair, grinning wildly. He cupped your face in his hands and pulled you into a kiss. You both ignored the gasps and the clicks of the cameras.

Months had gone by and all scandals had been cleared up. After the bold display from Hoseok, the media had gone crazy about it. Instead of being jealous fans they had started to support the relationship between you and Hoseok.

You both were able to rejoin your groups in no time, being greeted back with open arms. After a long road of being caught up in the scandals, you were finally able to get back to normal. Your group was promoting again and you were able to do it with Hoseok by your side, supporting you just like you supported him.

All scandals were behind you and you could finally breathe again. 

Finally happy.

[thisisheffner]

There Will Never Be Another Music Video Like D’Angelo’s “Untitled (How Does It Feel)”

Source: Artist

Ahead of the 20th anniversary of D’Angelo’s Voodoo, a look at how the video for “Untitled (How Does It Feel)” made — then almost broke — the legendary singer.

In the five years between his debut album, Brown Sugar, and Voodoo, D’Angelo’s personal and musical career had changed. The artist suffered from writer’s block after spending two years touring for Brown Sugar; only after his son Michael was born (with then-girlfriend Angie Stone) in 1998 did he feel inspired to write music again. During this time, he had also been inducted into the Soulquarians, an Avengers-like superteam of rap and soul luminaries whose members — Bilal, Common, Erykah Badu, J Dilla, Q-Tip, Questlove, and others — favored unconventionality and artistic integrity. That the singer found a kindred spirit in The Roots’ Questlove — who was integral to the recording process of Voodoo — isn’t surprising. They shared a desire to celebrate and study the greats — Jimi Hendrix, James Brown, George Clinton, Marvin Gaye, Sly and the Family Stone, Stevie Wonder and, of course, Prince. These artists served as the foundation for Voodoo.

“…the biggest influence on the record was someone who never came to the studio: Prince,” Questlove said in a 2000 Rolling Stone interview. “Way after Voodoo was finished, D and I sat down and listened to it, and we both admitted that this was our audition tape for Prince.”

Source: Virgin Records

If there’s any song indicative of the late Purple One’s influence on Voodoo, it’s “Untitled (How Does It Feel).” Reminiscent of the ballads the Minneapolis musician made during the ’80s and early ’90s — particularly ��Do Me, Baby,” “Scandalous,” and “Insatiable” — there have been countless forums made debating if “Untitled” is plagiarism or an homage to Prince. (The latter is more apt, with Questlove even declaring the track “our homage to the Controversy-era Prince” in a Voodoo album review.) The most notable nod to Prince in “Untitled” is D’Angelo’s falsetto: an androgynous croon that shifts in multiple tones throughout the song’s seven minutes. At times, it’s mumbled and quiet, his pleas practically indecipherable. Others, it’s confident and triumphant, the lightness of his voice propelled by cathartic screams meant to make you feel the satisfaction his lover gives him.

READ: D’Angelo’s Masterpiece Voodoo Laid Out the Blueprint for a New Masculinity 

Anchoring D’Angelo’s vocals is the instrumentation: Raphael Saadiq on bass and guitar; the late Chalmers Edward “Spanky” Alford on guitar; and D’Angelo on additional instruments. It’s improvisational yet structured, loose yet precise — a sensual and erotic ballad swung hard by a cool backbeat, rimshots echoing into a void of blues, funk, and soul driven by soft guitar strums and bouncy bass. There’s a vintage grit to it too courtesy of audio engineer Russell Elevado, whose use of vintage analog equipment and mixing gear made “Untitled” (and the rest of Voodoo) feel and sound just like the classics D’Angelo sought to emulate.

“Untitled” was the third of five singles released for Voodoo, succeeding more hip-hop-oriented songs “Devil’s Pie,” produced by DJ Premier,  and “Left & Right,” featuring Method Man and Redman. Of the two, only “Left & Right” received a music video, which offered a glimpse at what was to come with the music video for “Untitled.” “Left & Right” followed a conventional ’90s-era video treatment. The club is the setting, with a flurry of hazy scenes showing people dancing before Redman offers his guest verse. D’Angelo doesn’t even appear until 30 seconds into the video — the scene briefly showing the singer shirtless with a chiseled and muscular build that’s partially covered by a low-slung guitar. It’s these scenes that separated “Left & Right” from music videos from Brown Sugar. Whether the title track or “Lady,” D’Angelo was always fully clothed, his voice the representation of his sex appeal. “Left & Right” offered a subtle change to form, both D’Angelo’s body and voice now representing that.

Then, came the music video for “Untitled.”

For most of the four-and-a-half minute-long video — which was directed by Paul Hunter and Dominique Trenier — D’Angelo’s upper body is the focus. The camera expands from his black braids, brown eyes, and his plump, licked lips, to show a glistening and chiseled chest and V-cut abs, the screen cut off right at the point of his waist to where a viewer can’t help but wonder if he’s nude or not. There’s nowhere to avert your eyes as the one-shot video offers a voyeuristic exploration of D’Angelo’s body. It’s intimate, provocative, sensual, vulnerable — a hypnotizing performance that offers no relief until its over, beautifully capturing the pleasures of sex without being explicitly overt. The video is subversive, a display of black masculinity that’s affectionate but confident, and delicate but strong. A middle ground between Tupac’s infamous bathtub photos and the first 30 seconds of Prince’s “When Doves Cry” music video.

READ: “He Tends to Hide” Dissecting Devil’s Pie: D’Angelo’ & Celebrity Distance

“Untitled” was distinct from other hip-hop, R&B, and pop videos because of this. Unlike the hedonism and hypermasculinity found in hip-hop and R&B videos or the teenage-like fantasies found in pop videos, “Untitled” felt real and offered a display of blackness uncommon in music videos at the time. Even watching it now, it’s incredible to think such a video appeared alongside Christina Aguilera’s “What A Girl Wants,” Britney Spears’ “From the Bottom of My Broken Heart,” and the Backstreet Boys’ “Show Me the Meaning of Being Lonely.”

The music video for “Untitled” also greatly impacted the commercial success of Voodoo.

“Probably one of the most controversial new videos in rotation, it has given his project the burst of energy it so desperately needed,” Datu Faison wrote about the video in an issue of Billboard.

The track peaked at number 25 and number two on Billboard‘s Hot 100 and Hot R&B/Hip-Hop Singles & Tracks charts, respectively. And Voodoo debuted at number one on the U.S. Billboard 200 chart, selling 320,000 copies in its first week. Through the “Untitled” music video, D’Angelo gained mainstream attention that he didn’t have previously. But he also became a sex symbol in the process which, although initially harmless, grew to become a problem when he embarked on a tour in support of Voodoo in March 2000.

Prior to that tour, a New York Times piece was published that highlighted how divisive the “Untitled” video was, with Douglas Century writing: “Most women watch and swoon; many men turn away and scowl.”

“It’s about time that girls had something luscious to look at while they’re listening to a song,” Danyel Smith, the former editor in chief of Vibe, said in the same article. “For years, men have been treated to breasts and butts along with their favorite songs, and women have had to just sit there and endure.”

Photo Credit: Ken Hively/Los Angeles Times via Getty Images

By the time D’Angelo started the Voodoo tour, the idea of him as a sex symbol had eclipsed him as an artist. Journalists who attended the musician’s tour-opening Los Angeles shows at the House of Blues offered firsthand accounts of seeing women “grab his legs, his stomach, his crotch,” and screaming at him to take off a tight black tank top he wore during the concerts.

“It feels good, actually, when I do it,” D’Angelo said at the time to Rolling Stone. ‘But I don’t want it to turn into a thing where that’s what it’s all about. I don’t want it to turn things away from the music and what we doin’ up there.”

‘Sometimes, you know, I feel uncomfortable,” he added. “To be onstage and tryin’ to do your music and people goin’, ‘Take it off! Take it off! ‘Cause I’m not no stripper. I’m up there doin’ somethin’ I strongly believe in.”

But the music became secondary to womens’ “Untitled” fantasy. The concert served as a continuation to the video, and it ultimately took its toll on D’Angelo as he simultaneously tried to be — and fight against — a projection of himself he couldn’t control.

“We couldn’t get through one song before women would start to scream for him to take something off,” the late Roy Hargrove said in an interview with Spin in 2008. “It wasn’t about the music. All they wanted him to do was take off his clothes.”

About three weeks’ worth of shows were canceled toward the tour’s end in late 2000. Upon returning home, there were plans to release a live album and a new D’Angelo album, projects that could’ve led to him becoming a superstar. But it never happened. Instead, D’Angelo destroyed the image of himself that contributed significantly to his fame to the point of being unrecognizable, and wouldn’t make his return to music until 2014 — fourteen years after Voodoo — with Black Messiah.

In Devil’s Pie, the 2019 documentary that details his disappearance from the public eye following the Voodoo tour, it’s evident how the video’s impact still lingers with him. How, despite making a critically-acclaimed comeback and resuming performances throughout the world, there’s still the anxiety and insecurity of wondering if D’Angelo the artist will ever truly eclipse D’Angelo the sex icon.

The “Untitled” music video marked a tragic end and a new, tumultuous beginning for D’Angelo. It became the mission statement for an artist perceived to be the next great coming in R&B, only to incite the lowest point of his artistic career and personal life. It’s a moment that’s now a little more bittersweet to enjoy: an undeniable classic that conveyed so much with so little, and became one of the greatest music videos of all time. But at the expense of an artist who almost didn’t recover from it.

The post There Will Never Be Another Music Video Like D’Angelo’s “Untitled (How Does It Feel)” appeared first on Okayplayer.

This content was originally published here.

[andinewton]

Second Chances - Avengers Redemption Series - Part One Chapter 78

Characters:  Loki, Maia Tomson (OFC), Sigyn, pretty much everyone from the MCU appears at some point, including some special appearances by members of the X-Men!

Pairings: Loki x Maia Tomson, Loki x Sigyn,

Warnings:  Smut, so much smut, violence, swearing; listen, it’s NSFW and 18+, just bear that in mind!

Word Count: 179105

Summary: Loki has been handed over to The Avengers to pay penance for his past crimes, underpowered and underwhelmed by his post he is assigned a new ‘guide to Midgard’ by his superiors and is more than a little surprised when a petite freckled, redhead is waiting in the conference room, not at all like the previous handlers he has been assigned, who quit after a very short time with the snarky god. Maia Tomson is a trained literature teacher and counsellor, maybe not someone you would have picked out to be a guide to the God of Mischief but her mentor, Charles Xavier, knows she likes a challenge, and when The Avengers ask him to recommend someone she is top of his list. Surprised by the assignment, Maia takes it on, promising to do her best, but was not counting on a mutual attraction with her charge.

Join Loki on a journey to discover that his heart is not as frozen as he believes it to be, an adventure spanning almost a millennia of love gained and lost and rediscovered in the most unlikely of places…

Master List

This has to be one of my favourite chapters!  Ever!  Flashback a few months to the bachelor/bachelorette parties!

Chapter 78 - Epilogue 6

Summary:  When the bride- and groom-to-be go out with their respective friends to celebrate what the Midgardian's regard as 'one last night of freedom', leave it to technology to make a mess of this time honoured tradition...Alternatively... Darcy makes a faux pas or two...

‘I do not see why you desire to spend the evening at an establishment with a good many scantily clad men you can only look at when you could stay home with me and touch all you like.’ Loki wrapped his arms around Sigyn’s waist where she stood at the mirror fastening her necklace under her hair. ‘This from the man who I happen to know has a VIP room booked at one of the more exclusive lap dancing clubs in town?’ She gave him an unimpressed look in the mirror. ‘Where we are going the men are merely shirtless waiters. You are going to be shoving bills in the underwear of complete strangers.’ ‘If you stay home I won’t go.’ He swept her hair to one side and kissed across her shoulder.

‘Nice try, Mischief.’ She pulled away from him and went to the bedroom door, opening it fully. ‘Darcy, he’s trying to talk me out of it again!’ She yelled at the top of her voice. ‘Nooooo!!!!!’ Came Darcy’s shout back and before Sigyn had even made it back into the room she came racing down the hallway with her shoes in her hand. She had ditched her glasses for the night in favour of the contacts she rarely wore and with the smoky eye make up and red lipstick she looked stunning, and that was before you reached her figure hugging little black dress. ‘Don’t you dare, mister!’ She waved her finger at Loki as she stalked into the room. ‘I have been planning this night for two months! You let this girl have her last night of freedom!’ ‘And if she does not want to go?’ Loki asked simply. ‘I want to go.’ Sigyn argued as she fastened her earrings in place. ‘Are you quite certain?’ He gave her a skeptical look. ‘If you go I will have no choice than to go and spend my evening with a selection of half dressed women.’ ‘Nice try.’ She smiled at him as she picked up her bag. ‘Quit trying to talk her out of it!’ Darcy punctuated every word with her fist into his arm. It didn’t faze him but it made her feel better. ‘Very well.’ He approached his bride to be. ‘You are taking a coat?’ She screwed up her nose at him. ‘It’s warm out, I don’t need a coat.’ ‘On the contrary, you definitely need something.’ He curved his hands in the air and created an ankle length black coat, holding it out for her. ‘No.’ She said simply. ‘It would not do to have you suffer from exposure, and that dress does not cover enough to keep you from the elements.’ ‘It’s not the weather elements you are worried about and I am not wearing a coat.’ She complained as he stepped towards her and tried to drape it over her shoulders but she waved her own hand and made it vanish. ‘I won’t let anyone touch Sig that she doesn’t want to have touch her.’ Darcy promised. ‘Just let go of the damn apron strings for one night! She looks awesome!’ Sigyn smiled. She was rather pleased with how she looked. The dress was black and sequinned, falling above her knee in layers of pleated chiffon, a simple belt at the waist and round neck. It was shorter than she normally wore and her wedge heels made her legs look longer than they were. ‘Thank, Darce. You’re looking pretty fantastic yourself.’ ‘Oh, this old thing?’ She said dismissively, knowing Sig had been with her when she bought the dress. ‘You both look beautiful, however I would make one change.’ ‘Here we go.’ Sigyn rolled her eyes as power danced over her skin and the dress changed from black to green, the subtle sequins becoming gold and more plentiful, her shoes the jade green to match. ‘This way people will be reminded who you belong to.’ He smiled at her smugly. ‘Really? Because that works both ways.’ She snapped her fingers and he looked down as his shirt was covered by a bright pink t-shirt emblazoned with ‘Future Mr Sigyn’. He looked down at himself and pulled on the material. ‘I cannot go out in this.’ ‘Sure you can.’ Sigyn picked up her bag. ‘The spell on it won’t break until midnight. Don’t wait up.’ She grinned as she walked past and joined Darcy at the door. He frowned as they left. Spell? He tried to remove the shirt but it wouldn’t budge, it was welded to him with power and he couldn’t get it to move no matter how hard he tried. ‘Sig!’ He yelled, heading to the door. ‘Sig!’ He reached the common area where Steve and Thor were already waiting. ‘The ladies have just left.’ Thor informed him, looking over his brother’s attire. ‘Is there a dress code I am unaware of?’ ‘Sig put it on me and now it won’t come off!’ He complained, trying to shift his clothes into his armour, anything to get out of this ridiculous t-shirt, but it wouldn’t work. ‘Can you put something over the top? A jacket?’ Steve asked, covering his smile with his hand. ‘I may have to.’ He growled in frustration.

Hours later and both parties had staked their places at their chosen venues. Darcy had set up her camera to record the events, which she had promised would be heavily edited before it went online. All The Avengers ladies were present, no one wanted to miss this, along with Sigyn’s mom, cousins, Sif and several of the X-Men. She had been given a tiara with a veil attached and a sash stating ‘Future Princess Of Asgard’ which only made her laugh as it reminded her of the t-shirt she had virtually cursed onto Loki. Drinks were flowing, Tony had put on limos for the night so no designated drivers, and Darcy was just double checking the camera was still running before one of her surprises was brought out. ‘Okay!’ Darcy came back to the table and grabbed one of the shots she had lined up. ‘Next on the agenda!’ ‘How much more can there be?’ Sigyn asked in desperation, having already been put through various challenges and games, not to mention being made to drink twice as much as everyone else due to her improved constitution, and having to pay a forfeit of taking a double shot every time she said Loki. ‘Just a few more.’ Darcy turned her to face the camera. ‘We need to see the look on your face when you see it!’ ‘Well, it’s an it.’ She wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not. ‘Bring it out!’ Darcy yelled and the double doors to the staff area opened, and being pushed out on a trolley was a four foot ice sculpture of Loki wearing nothing but his helmet, in the most dramatic pose she could ever imagine, one hand on his hip, the other thrown out before him, his back arched and head tilted back, one leg bent at the knee. ‘Oh my God.’ Sigyn dropped her head into her hand as all the women laughed. ‘Yes, he is!’ Darcy grabbed her hand and pulled her to her feet. ‘Now, we need to know, just how anatomically accurate is it?’ ‘No, no, no.’ Sigyn blushed furiously. ‘Oh, come on!’ Darcy encouraged her and Sif joined them at the sculpture. ‘We do need clarification. If this is accurate, well, I have been underestimating him for a very long time.’ Sif added. Sigyn sighed and looked over the ice sculpture, in particular the part the girls were most interested in. ‘Okay, it’s not bad.’ She admitted and turned to smile at Darcy. ‘Bit on the small side.’ ‘What?’ Darcy gasped, knowing she had ordered it specifically to be what she considered on the large side. ‘You have to be kidding?’ Sigyn shrugged. ‘What can I say, even to scale it’s not big enough.’ ‘Maia!’ Her mom called over from the table and she turned to face her. ‘They wanted to know. It’s not my fault Darcy was right about giant in the sheets.’ ‘Jeez, how do you walk?’ Darcy muttered. ‘Carefully.’ Sigyn assured her. She had been to enough girls nights now to know that sometimes you just had to be blunt and honest with Darcy, she just wasn't used to being the centre of attention. ‘You should totally lick it.’ Darcy grinned at her. ‘I’m not licking it, you lick it!’ She laughed. ‘Okay.’ Darcy passed her her glass. ‘This is my only chance at this so, hell yeah!’

Loki was unsure as to the point of this ritual. Certainly the girls who paraded themselves to the group were attractive, and good at what they did, but it was not his idea of a good time. Tony certainly seemed to know the etiquette and was constantly shoving bills into Loki’s hand in the hope of getting him to put them somewhere scandalous. The closest he came was handing a pile of cash to a tall blonde and inviting her to show Captain America just what he fought in the war for. The look on Steve’s face was completely worth it. The room was luxurious with various chairs and raised platforms, some with poles, and even a cage in the corner, and a TV on one wall showing various entertainment channels, some adult, some comedic, and it was when he next glanced at the screen he spotted someone he recognised on one of the small boxes. ‘Why is Sigyn on the TV?’ He asked loudly. ‘I’m sure it isn’t Sigyn.’ Thor said from his other side. ‘No, the third from the right on the bottom row. That is Sigyn, I would know her anywhere.’ Tony went up to the TV and looked closely. ‘Yeah, that’s her, and Darcy and Sif by the look of it. And a really naked ice sculpture of you, Mayhem.’ He pressed a couple of buttons and the small screen expanded to fill the entire TV, the logo for Darcy’s live stream appearing in the bottom corner. ‘Oh man, we have a front row seat to the bachelorette party!’ Tony grinned at them all. ‘Turn it off, Tony.’ Steve said. ‘Let’s not spy on the girls.’ ‘God, no. Leave it.’ Clint said as he joined Tony down the front. ‘This should be funny…wait, what’s Darcy doing? Holy shit!’ He laughed as Darcy leant forward and pressed her tongue to the ice sculpture’s manhood as Sigyn shook her head in despair. ‘How do we get sound on it?’ Sam asked. ‘On it.’ Tony replied, playing with a few more buttons. ‘Hey, could one of you girls get the music turned off in here? Thanks.’ The dancers looked between one another in confusion and shrugged, one of them going to get the music turned off. ‘Is she…stuck?’ Scott asked as he joined the others at the screen. ‘Sure looks that way.’ Tony smirked as he watched Darcy trying to talk with her tongue stuck to a penis made of ice. ‘Hey, Blitzen, you ever had that happen with Sigyn?’ ‘Hilarious.’ Loki said as he and Thor joined all the others. ‘But no.’ ‘Pity, that’d be a hell of a story.’ ‘As will this be, I don’t doubt.’ Thor said as Jane appeared on the screen, obviously horrified by Darcy’s situation.

‘What were you thinking?’ Jane asked as Sigyn headed towards the bar and ordered a coffee. ‘I wath thinkin’ ith woulg be fuggy.’ Darcy said with some difficulty. ‘You’re supposed to be smart!’ Jane got underneath and had a look at how her friend was well and truly stuck to the sculpture. ‘I ang thmart.’ She replied. ‘Here.’ Sigyn had added a lot of milk to the coffee so it wouldn’t scald and used a teaspoon to pour some onto Darcy’s tongue around the sculpture.

‘Ooooooo.’ All the men cringed at the thought of hot coffee being poured on delicate parts. ‘That’s harsh, man.’ Sam said. ‘Less harsh than ripping her taste buds off.’ Steve said as Darcy finally got free, took the coffee off Sigyn and drank it to relieve herself of the freezer burn. ‘Do you think they do this kind of thing at girls night?’ ‘Licking ice effigies of Loki’s dick? Maybe. Darcy says they’re pretty wild.’ Tony shrugged. ‘Can’t wait to see what they get up to next.’ ‘Do you think they are aware that they are broadcasting live to the entire world?’ Loki asked in concern. ‘Doubtful, look at how many empty shot glasses are on the table. We’ll be lucky if they remember where they live.’ ‘I’m going to warn her.’ Loki took out his phone but found he had no signal. ‘Disabled for the night.’ Tony informed him. ‘You’re supposed to be free for this last night, not calling the missus.’ ‘I think this situation is a little out of the ordinary.’ Loki’s eyes went back to the screen where he could see Sif snapping one of the fingers off the sculpture and putting it in her drink. ‘Damn right. Who wants nachos?’ Tony asked, looking around.

‘Let’s not do that again.’ Jane suggested as Darcy wiped her chin where she had drooled. ‘It was kinda fun. You ever had that happen for real?’ Darcy turned back to Sigyn. ‘Thankfully no.’ ‘But you’ve seen him in his full Jotun altogether, right?’ ‘Oh no, this again.’ Sigyn sighed. ‘What’s a full Jotun altogether?’ Her mom asked. ‘Like altogether altogether, but blue and cold.’ Nat explained. ‘Well…’ Sigyn didn’t need to say any more, her face told them everything they needed to know. ‘You have! You’ve rocked the full Jotun experience! Yes!’ Darcy held up her hand for a high five which Sigyn reluctantly reciprocated. ‘It’d be stupid not to utilise all the tools at our disposal.’ She shrugged. ‘Speaking of tools at your disposal.’ Darcy waved across the room and Sigyn turned, her jaw falling open. ‘Darcy, why is there a man dressed like Cap heading this way?’

‘Why is there a man dressed like Steven joining their party?’ Loki asked in confusion. ‘Ohhhhh stripper.’ Clint coughed. ‘What?’ Loki demanded. ‘I do not recall agreeing to this!’ ‘Relax, it’s all part of the bachelorette experience.’ Sam told him, but Thor was watching his brother carefully, spotting the signs of anger as they built in him. ‘Perhaps we should turn it off.’ Thor suggested and was pretty much booed into silence. ‘Now what are they doing?’ Loki moved closer to the screen to see the ice sculpture being wheeled away and a single chair being put in the centre of the floor. Darcy and Nat were all but forcing a reluctant Sigyn into the seat as all the other women gathered around.

‘Oh no, guys, I said no strippers!’ Sigyn protested as she found herself sat in the middle of the floor. ‘You’d better edit this out, Darcy Lewis! Loki will kill you!’ ‘He’ll never know.’ She promised as the background music that had been playing stopped and a fanfare began.

‘Oh no.’ Steve buried his face in his hand as he realised what was about to happen. ‘Oh no, what?’ Sam asked. ‘I know that music.’

Sigyn’s cheeks flamed red as Star Spangled Man With A Plan begun playing through the club and the Cap impersonator started marching on the spot with his replica shield over his arm. Her friends were whooping and clapping along to the music and the performer, yes, performer, not stripper, okay, stripper, spun the shield to one side and began removing his gloves. Darcy had spent a lot of time finding the perfect gentleman entertainer for their evening and this man had come not only highly recommended but with party games thrown in. She had been looking forward to seeing Sigyn’s face for weeks. “Cap’s” shirt went next and while he was very well formed he still wasn’t quite as buff as Steve, but as he gyrated his way closer to Sigyn she got a look of panic on her face. He put a hand on the back of her chair and leant over her, lowering himself up and down on her lap without touching and he spoke quietly as he did. ‘Don’t worry, ma’am, you won’t do anything you don’t want to.’ ‘You’re damn right I won’t.’ She replied. ‘Just put your hands on my hips and I’ll get you through this.’ ‘No.’ ‘It’s all part of the fun. You trust the Captain, right?’ He said cheekily. ‘The real Steve Rogers, yes.’ ‘Well, he’s not here, so I’ll have to stand in.’ He took her hand and pressed it against his hip. She screwed up her face as Darcy whistled loudly. She didn’t think she’d ever been so embarrassed in her life, and no amount of alcohol could have prepared her for this.

Loki watched in horror as a Steve lookalike gyrated over his future wife, pulling her hand onto his hip despite her obvious discomfort. He couldn’t watch it anymore, and he certainly wasn’t going to stand for some cheap impersonator touching her. He went for the door, determined to find them and put a stop to this, but Thor’s hand fell on his shoulder. ‘Brother, it is all in jest.’ ‘It is degrading.’ ‘It’s normal behaviour at one of these things.’ Tony called back. ‘I’m putting a stop to it.’ Loki said firmly. Tony shared a look with Thor. ‘You know what, let’s crash the girls’ party.’ Tony grinned. ‘Front row seats instead of a stream.’ ‘Do what you must, but I am going.’ Loki pulled out of Thor’s grip and carried on, the men all following him, Tony casually bringing up the live feed on his Stark Phone as they went for the car.

The stripper finally finished his act, left in just his red boots, helmet and a stars and stripes g-string. He had finally convinced Sigyn to play along, just a little, and he seemed like a nice guy who just happened to have an interesting way of paying the bills. He had photos taken with various girls from the group, letting them hold his shield, before he set up a game for them. ‘Okay, girls, the aim of the game is to keep the ice cube moving.’ He held up a an ice cube in the shape of a penis, at least three inches long. ‘But, no hands, keep it going around the circle. If you drop it, or use hands, that’s a forfeit, if the cube melts or you swallow it, forfeit.’ ‘What’s the forfeit?’ Jane asked from her place in the circle between Wanda and Pepper. ‘Jello shot off Cap’s abs.’ He smiled at her as he took his place in the circle beside Sigyn. ‘Bride to be goes first.’ He put the ice cube in his mouth and held it between his lips so just the tip showed. ‘Loki will kill all of us.’ She mumbled. ‘Only if he sees it. Which he won’t.’ Darcy promised from beside her. ‘Now suck that dick!’ ‘Jeez.’ She whispered as she leant forward, having to go on tiptoes and rest her hand on “Cap’s” stomach for balance to be able to reach. She wrapped her lips around the cube but he didn’t relinquish it and winked at her before pushing the cube into her mouth with is tongue, making sure it brushed her lips. If Sigyn hadn’t had a mouth full of ice she would have given him what for. She turned around and offered the cube to Darcy who took it with her teeth before turning to Maria Hill.

‘Well, damn.’ Tony said as he watched Darcy and Sigyn all but kiss before Darcy turned and did the same to Maria Hill. All the men had halted at what they saw and it was as the stripper leant in to say something to Sigyn that she spotted Loki across the room, his eyes dark and angry. ‘Oh shit.’ She muttered as she set off through the circle and out the other side. ‘Sig, where are you…uh oh.’ Darcy said as she noticed where she was heading. ‘What are you guys doing here?’ She asked in general but walked straight up to Loki and smiled up at him. ‘We wanted to join in the fun.’ Tony said, passing her his phone that was still running the live stream. ‘Wait, is that…DARCY!’ She spun angrily before stalking back across the room to the camera. ‘What, what happened?’ ‘We’re live! That’s what happened!’ She shouted. ‘Oh fuck!’ Darcy pulled the plug on the camera immediately. ‘I swear to every God in this room I did not realise, I am so sorry!’ ‘Tony had it on his phone!’ She hissed. ‘Which means Loki has probably seen everything!’ ‘Just from when the assistant formerly known as intern got her tongue stuck to the ice giant’s cock.’ Tony pointed out. ‘I’m so, so sorry.’ Darcy repeated, ignoring Stark as the men filtered down into the area they were using. Sigyn sighed, long and deep. ‘I’m going to have to fix this, I so am.’ She looked across the room where Loki was giving her very serious eyes. ‘It was my fault, let me talk to him.’ ‘No, I’ve got it.’ And she headed back towards him. Meanwhile Steve drew level with his impersonator, glanced over him and nodded. ‘Not bad, kid. But your parting is on the wrong side.’ ‘Uh, thanks, Captain America.’ He said in sheer awe that most of The Avengers had arrived. He hadn’t even realised these were the female Avengers, but now he recognised them, and more importantly, recognised the bride to be, and her future husband. ‘I’m just going to get my things and go.’ ‘Don’t do that on our account.’ Tony smiled at him. ‘No, I think they’re good.’ He picked up his clothes and shield, made his excuses and left. ‘How much did you see?’ She looked up at Loki as his eyes fell upon her and she realised the darkness in his eyes wasn’t quite all anger. ‘You need reminding who you belong to.’ He growled, taking her by the elbow and marching her towards the bathrooms. Sigyn’s cousins noticed and started to go after them, worried by the exchange but Jane and Nat stopped them. ‘Trust me, this isn’t a problem.’ Nat assured them. ‘We just might want to turn the music up.’ Loki pushed Sigyn into the ladies room and spun her so her back hit the door hard before his lips were on hers. There was nothing gentle in the kiss, it was rough and angry, and his hands found his belt and zipper before he pulled his lips away. ‘It is not wise to make me jealous, love.’ He growled before his hands reached for her dress, slipping underneath to pull the side of her underwear hard enough it ripped and he let it fall to the floor. ‘Wholly unintentional.’ She murmured as his lips found hers again, his hands finding her thighs and lifting her off the ground. ‘But it still happened.’ He lined himself up at her entrance and slammed his way inside her with no preliminaries and she gasped at the sudden invasion. ‘Say my name, girl, tell them who you belong to.’ ‘Loki.’ She said quietly as he pounded her into the door, his flesh pummelling hers. ‘Louder.’ He demanded. ‘Let the entire place know you are mine.’ ‘Loki!’ She cried out as his fingers dug into her flesh, his harsh pace rapidly bringing her close to the edge. He almost lost it as her words echoed in the tiled room but he slammed into her again and again until she was quivering and gasping with pleasure and as he felt his body about to peak he cried out once more. ‘Say my name!’ ‘LOKI! Loki! Loki!’ She repeated his name over and over, a scream at first that came down and stuttered as her orgasm took her by surprise, and when he slammed her into the door he followed her over the edge, groaning as he shuddered, filling her completely with every rut of his hips. Their breathing was erratic and he lifted her to sit on the sink unit, sliding free of her as he leant heavily with his hands either side of her knees. ‘You’re kind of fun when you’re jealous.’ She smirked at him and he raised his head to look at her. ‘Kind of? Dear one, if that is only kind of fun something is very wrong.’ ‘Really fun.’ She amended. ‘Maybe I should make you jealous more often.’ He straightened enough their eyes were level. ‘Dove, do not try me, for the power you possess upon saying my name will only go so far. Next time I may have to give you a more…severe punishment.’ ‘Promises promises.’ She leant forward and kissed him. ‘What say we get out of here and you can punish me thoroughly?’ ‘You would abandon your own party for me? Very improper, petal.’ ‘You taught me improper could be fun.’ She shrugged. ‘Indeed I did.’ He smiled at her before rearranging his pants. ‘Very well, let us depart from this place and make our own magic at home.’ Twenty minutes later Darcy looked up at Nat from where they were sipping shots. ‘They aren’t coming back, are they?’ ‘I don’t think so.’ Nat grinned.   ‘Damn, and we were so close to have a normal party with no emergencies!’ ‘I wouldn’t call angry bathroom sex an emergency.’ ‘You didn't hear the screaming.’ Darcy said, knowing that both Loki’s demands and Sigyn’s cries would stay with her for some time.

Chapter 79

[fircbcrn-blog]

      ♕ —  henlo once again all, it is i charmi ur local muse machine, this is my precious and pure son jia ‘emrys’ xinya and below the cut you can learn some fun lil facts about him, a link to his stats page can be found here and i will sort a plot page out for him at some point soon but for now i’ll put a few plot bunnies at the end of this and brainstorm !! if you want to plot pls like this or reach out to me and i shall message u quickfire, without further ado :  

so rhys is like this edgy biker boy but with a heart of gold who is rlly a super big softie, he just looks like an intimidating biker boi with his style.

he falls in love with everything but i don’t mean like he’ll fuck anything with a pulse kind of love or oh wow u were nice to me and now i adore u and want to run off into the sunset, i mean he’s just in love with the world around him i mean it’s a shitty fuckin place sometimes but he sees the small beauties in it, the miracles of nature and human behavior that isn’t learned but just inherent to us and he thinks its fuckin magical so sue him

 very wise and mature and down to earth as a person, despite being super popular because he just comes across as very cool and easygoing and in general easy to get along with plus he’s a total heart throb in the modelling world. 

pretty artsy for a living, very much a creative soul. he paints and sketches and can mould things and he does actually commission it and earn a decent amount from it but his main career and income comes from the modelling definitely. bc ya know business for artists in general just isn’t amazing even for the richer few. 

super in touch with the world and at peace with himself, like he is an immovable force nothing you say or do to him will upset him bc he’s just like lol that’s ur opinion and perspective ig and ur entitled to it so go off but imma do me thanks. 

pansexual iCoN although he does lean more towards homoromantic, he will love anyone pretty down who he can see something good in and he can see good in basically anything other than actual dictators obviously.

guru of life advice, people often come to him because he offers a sense of stability and security without getting his own emotions attached just from his presence alone and the atmosphere he surrounds himself with. 

exudes charisma and magnetism we stAn, fully sits around with fancy expensive wine and his art in his super cosy yet modern and majorly artistic big ass penthouse suite apartment studio and walks around in open blazers shirtless with his long hair all pushed back and wet like the queer bohemian pixie that he is uNF. 

he definitely has an approachable just creative and exciting persona without making you feel like you have to be wild to be alive with him. he’s also very spiritual

boi does yoga every morning and meditates every night without fail, very aware of mindfulness and does the exercises for it a lot, very aware of his health and keeps like excessively on top of it. he’s buddhist so he believes in the chakras, is interested in white magic and crystal healing too though, definitely practices feng shui, don’t fuck with his feng shui

he is a dancer however he doesn’t do dance as a full time gig bc he’s worried it would eat away at his time and take away from his other passions but ye he be a busy boi

he gets a reputation from the media for being a ‘playboy’ bc he’s deemed a heart throb fUNNILY enough he is the furthest thing from that, but everyone finds him attractive and tries to get him into scandals. he deffo does have flings like the average amount as anyone else but HERES THE THING...

rhys is an idiot and he has a thing for guys who think they’re gods gift who are all don’t go falling in love with me and part of me thinks he likes it for the thrill a lOT as well bc he’s too laidback for that trap so he’s all yeah as if bud u would have to change ur act a loT for that to be possible and they get shooketh like HOLD UP WAIT A SECOND-

he does not have their shit if they do the whole im such a hardass and i don’t do commitment but they want him to fall for them rlly he’s like okay good for u see u in like a week when u wanna fuck again until then i’ll be busy with my perfectly substantial life which i don’t need u in anyway dude

big bitch u aint special energy bc no one is and everybody got other priorities to put first depending on what they choose so like lemme know when u wanna get ur act together if not we can chill 

but he a good boi he just floats around the place with his shirtless blazer self all here have a sprinkling of wisdom beyond my years and compassion mi casa su casa bby make urself at home in my crafty creative den. 

( @hijinae​ ) is like a sister figure to him bc they perfectly match in persona’s and energies and she is very close to his familia it hasn’t happened yet but eventually they will be adoptive siblings when rhys’ parents legally take custody of jinae after her father’s passing. SIBLING POWER DUO I TELL U NOW they’re literally like siblings who are each other’s missing halves and best friends.  had they have been biological they would probably have been twins

PLOT IDEAS: 

so here’s a few loose ideas to throw around until i have more time to sort a plot page out for him purely bc as much as i’m invested in him and oozing with muse i have a lot of pACking to do still since i’m moving out and back home for the summer this weekend : 

but of course some of his much loved flings especially his fave messy boy toys bring em to me 

modelling rivals potentially who don’t actually want to be rivals at all but the media simply makes them out that way

dance buddies 

running buddies 

maybe some people who can help him manage his art business prospects and side of things

best friends bc who don’t love that

childhood friends

friends from china yES pls

modelling partners u know like kylie and her besties type shit always posing with each other on instagram and going to shows together or promoting together

ex’s bc that’s fun and spicy 

childhood love 

childhood best friend

frenemies 

friends he’s made internationally bc of music or dance or even modelling and got close with 

sibling like bond 

good influence and bad influence

people interested in spirituality or buddhism and maybe looking to him as a guide on it all 

honestly anything else u can think of even maybe a past unrequited love, his first ever boyfriend or girlfriend or just experience with either (also open to non-binary muses ofc) just hit me with it all and i will happily work with it