#you can hear free form jazz play late into the night

[clockspur]

It’s Mew’s truck now

#pokémon #pokemon #pokémon mew #the truck #kanto #vermillion city #they say #if you listen closely #off the coast #you can hear free form jazz play late into the night

[jazzthatonewriterchick]

Lovers & Friends (18+ Fic)

Pairing: Keigo Takami x Black!Fem!Reader (Friends to Lovers)

Synopsis: In which you and Keigo have begun to realize the strange new feelings you both have for each other after one drunken night at a close friend’s wedding that ends with you in his bed, but because of your longtime friendship and committed relationships with other people, you’re more than happy to forget that night even happened and keep your mutual feelings in the dark…for now, at least. 

Story Warnings: Smutty smut; 18+ (MINORS GET AWAY); Cheating/Infidelity; Mating; Light Degradation; Spanking; Exhibitionism; Multiple Positions; Creampie; Unprotected PIV Sex; Facials; Scent Play; Marking; Spitting; Deepthroating; Cunnilingus; Begging; Edgeplay; Power Play; Daddy Kink; Some Angst; Hurt/Comfort; Mild Violence

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic (except for Rei and Haruko). However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!

Writer's Note: Got myself a job!! I'm so excited but I'm also shitting myself lmaoo but I'm still gonna try to update as frequently as I can. Enjoy! -Jazz

Chapters: One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen. Fourteen. Fifteen. Sixteen. Seventeen. Eighteen. Nineteen. Twenty. Bonus Chapter.

Read on AO3 here!

************

Chapter Three: Those Bachelor Days Don't Last Forever.

Keigo sits on the edge of his king-sized bed in his master bedroom feeling sick. Is it weird for the best man to get cold feet and he isn’t the one getting married? 

Well, that’s exactly how he feels now, dressed in his best Armani suit with a pink flower nestled in his breast pocket in accordance with the color scheme of the wedding. He sits with his legs wide and his head down, feeling like the entire world is crashing around him. 

“Baby!” Sakura calls from down the hall in one of Keigo’s three bathrooms. “How much time do we have left? My hair isn’t working with me today.” He hears her grunt in frustration and the sound of a hairspray can fills the air. She’s been in there for nearly an hour getting ready for Fatgum’s wedding, prepping herself as Keigo’s plus-one. 

“Twenty minutes!” he calls back, checking his Rolex watch. “You’ve got time.” And so does he. Thank God because he has to get his shit together. He has to be the best best man for his friend today despite having never been a best man before. 

But he knows this isn’t the main reason why he’s ready to blow chunks all over his red-bottom shoes. He doesn’t hate weddings either. He went to Yu and Nemuri’s wedding two years ago and had the best time of his life stuffing his face with cake, downing all the champagne, and taking home two of the hot waitresses catering the event. 

He knows his anxiety has a lot to do with his conversation with him and his friends last night which led to him coming home early and fucking Sakura’s brains out just to prove to himself that Fatgum wasn’t right.

He had met up with him late last night for Fatgum’s bachelor’s party, which was really just a trip for some ramen dinner and then a game of pool at Fatgum’s favorite high-end bar. It was located in a fancy hotel across the city. Fatgum drank, ate, and rented rooms free since he saved the hotel from a villain attack years ago when a bomb was built under the building. 

The conversations went from 0 to about 1,000 when the drinks kept pouring and the hours kept ticking down till the wedding. Fatgum was happy, giddy even, as he leaned against the pool table in his skinnier form. “Ah, I can’t believe it,” he sighed. “I’ll really be a married man soon! I get to be with the most amazing woman for the rest of my life!” 

“Rest of your life?” Keigo parroted, scoffing at the statement. “C’mon, man, don’t get ahead of yourself. That’s talkin’ forever.” 

“Exactly!” Fatgum gave him a big, happy grin that was so full of love and bliss, it nearly killed Keigo’s buzz. “Haruko is the one I wanna be with forever. I wouldn’t have proposed if I didn’t see us together for all that time, and I plan on havin’ that woman till I sprout grays.” 

“Not to be a downer or anything,” Toshinori aka All Might said from his spot next to Aizawa aka Eraserhead, busy taking his turn at the pool table, “but you do realize that forever for a pro is limited ‘cause of multiple things, right?” He started ticking off the number of possible threats on his fingers. “Villian attacks, missions gone wrong, crazed fans. The list goes on.” 

“Oh, come on, fellas!” Hizashi aka Present Mic (Mic for short) said from his spot on his stool, sipping from his cocktail with a little umbrella in it. “Don’t rain on poor Fatgum’s parade! I think it’s a wonderful thing to want that with someone. Just look at me and Shouta: six years strong.” He flashed the crew his gold band and grinned at a blushing Aizawa. 

“I get what you’re sayin’, Toshi,” Fatgum said genuinely, patting Toshinori on the back, “and as much I appreciate your honesty, I already know my time may be limited on this earth. That’s why I’m makin’ it count. With my Haruko.” He sighed dreamily; a picture of being in love. “She’s my forever, however long that may be for however long she wants me.” 

Keigo felt something shift inside of him at those words. He realized with a shock that it was jealousy. But who wouldn’t be jealous of a cute ass relationship like Fatgum and Haruko’s? They’d been together for six years, fighting through the ups and downs, the good and bad. Keigo couldn’t imagine being married and doing that. To him, marriage was the ultimate commitment. 

And he wasn’t good at commitment. His list of past relationships that could stretch from Japan to Antarctica would tell you that shit. You, Dabi, and Rumi made fun of him for having “international community dick” because Keigo has seen it all, done it all. As a pro hero, he’s traveled the world for business deals and important meetings, and in every place, he’s had at least one body. 

Keigo just isn’t for relationships. He loved his freedom too much–the freedom to jump from one person to the next in any city or country he wanted. He always figured he was too busy with his hero work to focus on falling in love. He just dated for a good time, which was usually a good fuck that lasted him one night or a few weeks. 

That is until you fell for you. He still doesn’t know when he started falling or how. All he remembers is looking at you one day and thinking, “Damn, she’s beautiful” and then “Damn, I really love her”. 

When he realized what happened, he freaked out. He couldn’t be in love, especially with his best friend! You shared too much together and your relationship was too amazing to be ruined. So he kept his feelings to himself all these years, knowing this love would remain unrequited and unspoken. 

But that doesn’t stop the daydreams of you and him together, you underneath him or him underneath you, your gorgeous face contorted in the pure ecstasy he gave you as he drives his cock into you again and again, making you cum like you’ve never cum before. That doesn’t stop him from wanting to hold you, or feel your lips against his, or feeling hot with jealousy at the other men you give your time to. 

That includes Rei aka Tempo. God, he hates your new man, but not just because he had you. To him, Rei seemed like a fake; like everything he did was for approval and validation, including what he did for you–the dates, the gifts, the cute little IG comments under your photos. It was all for show.

Keigo isn’t with that. You deserve better than that. And now that he knows the dude can’t make you cum, he’s definitely tempted to ruin your relationship with him. But Keigo also isn’t an asshole. He’s also a good friend and wants to see you happy, no matter how much it hurts to pretend. 

“Damn, Keigo, you good?” Ken Takagi aka Rock Lock, asked in concern as he sipped his beer. “You look like you’re about to deck somebody.”

Kan Sekijiro aka Vlad glared at Keigo from his spot at the pool table, his big frame nearly blocking Keigo from the game. “Better not be me if you know what’s good for you,” he grumbled.  

“Chill out, frost tips,” Keigo blandly replied. “I wouldn’t dream of fightin’ your big ass.” Vlad’s glare intensified while the others laughed. “And I’m fine, Ken; thanks for pointin’ that out,” Keigo sarcastically replied to his friend and coworker. He really wasn’t in the mood for this tonight. 

“I would’ve done it, but I didn’t feel like it,” Aizawa deadpanned from the bar. Mic nudged him roughly with his elbow. “Talk to us, Keigo!” he encouraged the winged pro. “What’s eatin’ at you? You don’t agree with someone being your forever?” 

Now the attention was all on Keigo. Usually, he liked it this way, but not right now. He was just trying to enjoy his friend’s bachelor party to celebrate his big day and then go home to have drunk, nasty sex with Sakura. But he knew with a crowd like this, he’d never get away from the topic of conversation.

“It’s not that,” he sighed, sitting on the corner of the table. “I, for one, would love to be with someone I feel like I can see my future with. But as a pro, being in a romantic relationship is difficult and exhausting. Complicates life too much. That’s why I always stuck to my hookups or flings.” 

“So what about Sakura?” Fatgum asked, raising an eyebrow. “Is she a fling or a hookup too?” 

She was, at first. Keigo met the pink, curly-haired cutie at a party he didn’t want to be at downtown (for a business deal) and they got to talking when he offered to buy her a drink after the bartender messed up her order. He was curious about her as soon as he got a look at her in her periwinkle dress that did wonders for her body.

He learned she was a nurse for sick children and her quirk allowed her to ease their pain and discomfort for a few hours by giving them bursts of pleasure in their bodies. He charmed her, danced with her, and managed to get into her bedroom when she invited him back to her place for the night. 

Sex with her is by far the best thing Keigo has ever experienced. Sakura used her quirk on him many times that night to increase his pleasure and gave him some mind-blowing orgasms in the process. To put it bluntly, he was hooked and started seeing her more and more. Unfortunately for him, his pimp shit was squashed when he got to know Sakura more and more. He became fond of her sweet personality and almost innocent outlook on life. He cared deeply for her. 

But while he cared, he knew that care didn’t amount to what he felt for you. He’d give you the whole moon and the sun if you asked. He’d gladly die and kill just to ensure your safety. He didn’t care–he just loved you. He knew he could never love Sakura or any other woman the way he loved you, but he could try. After all, he and you were friends. There was no way he could ever tell you how he truly left, and has been feeling for years. 

“She was supposed to be,” he admitted earnestly, “but after getting to know her, I found I really enjoyed talkin’ with her. She’s a sweet girl, don’t get me wrong…” He trailed off, not wanting to get into it, but already leaving breadcrumbs for his highly-interested audience.

“But?” Fatgum pushed. “I know there’s a “but” in there, Keigo. Don’t deny it.” 

Keigo sighed in frustration, knowing he’d look like a fuckboy for this. “I’m just with her for the fun of it!” he confessed with a shrug. “Nothing long-term or committed. I’m not gonna cheat or hurt her ‘cause I’m not a jerk, but I’m also not lookin’ for something for ‘forever’.” He used his fingers to quote the word, earning a perplexed scowl from Fatgum. “We just laugh, talk, and have a good time.” 

“You mean fuck?” Shouta asked blankly. Even Keigo flushed at the harshness of the word. “Well, if you wanna be blunt, sure.” 

“Keigo!” Fatgum gasped, looking at Keigo like he just admitted to murder. “I’m shocked! You’re really tellin’ me you’re not gonna try to lock a cutie like Sakura down? If you don’t do it now, you’ll regret it later.”

Keigo just waved off his friend’s statement, paying no time to the dramatics. “I don’t regret shit like that.” Fatgum shook his head in pity. “You will when you wind up cold and lonely in your big penthouse without someone to cuddle with.” 

The winged hero sucked his teeth, shaking his head at the others. He knew that wasn’t true. No matter how doomed he was to love you, he also knew he’d find someone else, especially in the future. There was no way he’d be alone forever…right? 

He decided to leave it alone as he waltzed over to the pool table for his turn. He leaned forward, stomach flat against the table, and aimed at a red pool table. It teetered to the right and rolled into two more balls. Once all three fell into the left pocket, he pumped his fist in victory. 

“Do you believe it’s possible to find the one for you somewhere out there?” Mic asked curiously from behind him. He turned around, slightly irked this conversation was still rolling, but he wasn’t going to blow Mic off. The guy was too nice! “I mean, sure,” he replied thoughtfully, “but I can’t just look for ‘the one’ in every single person I date.” 

Rock Lock nodded as he shoved Vlad out of the way to do his turn at the pool table. “I gotchu. You don’t date to marry; you date for fun. You’re still young, so it’s different for guys like us.”He took a shot at a blue ball, grinning when it rolled into the left pocket. 

“Exactly!” Keigo laughed, happy someone was seeing things from his perspective finally. “See? He gets it! I’m way too young and at the top of my game to be tied down right now.”

Fatgum turned to him, adding more of his two cents. “Be that as it may, Keigo,” he argued, “and while I totally respect our differences here, don’t you think you sound just a lil’...I don’t know…” He trailed off, looking for the right word. 

“Cynical?” Aizawa finished. Everyone’s eyes trained on him to which he passively shrugged. “What? He needed a word, I gave him one.” 

Keigo was irked at his friends’ assumptions about him, especially Fatgum. So what if he felt this way? So what if he liked his freedom and his sex? So what if he jumped from relationship to relationship to avoid thinking about you and being alone? It was no one’s business but his. “I’m just being honest,” he scoffed, downing his third beer of the night. 

“And I get that!” Fatgum replied, putting his hands up in defense. Sensing that his friend was feeling attacked, he put a hand on Keigo’s shoulder. “You’re totally entitled to feel how you feel, Keigo. And you’re right: you’re young, attractive, wealthy, and the second most popular pro in Japan. You’ve got brand deals, international fame…you’re the total package! A complete bachelor.” 

Keigo cringed slightly, not sure if he liked being called that. “But one day, all of this ain’t gonna be enough for you,” Fatgum continued a soft look in his eyes. “You’re gonna want something different. Someone who you can trust to love you and not judge you to share your life with.”

He squeezed Keigo’s shoulder, and Keigo felt like he was getting advice from his father. “Trust me; those bachelor days don’t last forever, my friend.” 

That night after going home to his penthouse, his relationships with you and Sakura sat on Keigo’s tipsy, fuzzy mind. Even as he sits here now, waiting for his girlfriend to finish up, he reflects on them heavily. While both have their fair share of positives, he also knows he could never have what he has with you with Sakura. 

He’s known you since middle school! Since the days of acne, schoolyard fights, and other adolescent cringe. You know him inside and out: all the ugly; the bad; the flaws that make him Keigo. You know of his hurts and pains; the childhood trauma that sometimes has him waking up in the middle of the night; the insecurities he has in himself that sometimes get him down. Plus, you understand the difficulties, horrors, and uncertainties that come with being a pro.

You understand why he stays away from romance and steers clear from falling in love. Sakura could never understand any of this, and he is sure if he tries to explain any of this to her, it’d turn her away for good. 

“Keigo?” 

Keigo jumps, nearly having a heart attack at the sound of Sakura standing in his bedroom. She’s dressed in a pale pink sundress that pairs well with her hair which cascades down her back in waves. She looks like a beautiful, pink angel wearing sandals and with lips that remind Keigo of berries.  “You alright?” she questions, worry in her eyes; those eyes like the cleanest, purest waters. 

Quickly, he stands and clears his throat. No time to reflect on his future and lament his love life. He has a wedding to go to. “Yeah,” he assures her with a smile. As if throwing him a bone, his phone dings, signaling the arrival of the car he ordered twenty minutes ago. “Good, the car is around the corner. We should head downstairs.” 

He goes to Sakura and wraps an arm around her lower waist. He presses a kiss to her lips, breathing in her scent of rose-scented perfume. “You look amazing, by the way. Maybe those two hours in the bathroom were what you needed.”

Sakura laughs and nudges him as they venture down the winding staircase to catch their ride. 

************

Fatgum and Haruko’s wedding reception is thrown in downtown Musutafu at the largest park in the city.

When Keigo gets out of the car and helps Haruko out of the backseat, he can see his friend broke his bank for the occasion. During wedding rehearsals (which occurred a week before the wedding and Fatgum’s bachelor party), their chosen portion of the park wasn’t yet decorated or littered with guests. But now, the place looks like something out of a damn Disney movie. 

A trail of white satin leads to the area under a canopy of trees winded with fairy lights where the bride and groom will soon stand in front of seats reserved for specific guests from the front to the back.

A few yards away, and a walk away from the park’s parking lot, are the bar, bathrooms, and dance floor littered with white table-clothed tables and chairs for after the wedding reception. Among all of that are rolling hills of freshly cut, green grass and gazebos that will make for great photos. A few white tents litter the area as well, two of which Keigo is sure are reserved for the bride and groom. 

When Keigo and Sakura walk into the wedding hand-in-hand, people are already setting up. A live band sets up their instruments while the priest stands at his post, reading over his lines. Guests are busy finding their seats, among them being fellow pro heroes, Fatgum’s and Haruko’s family and friends outside of the hero industry, and some UA students Keigo recognizes. 

He instantly sees Ejriou Kirishima and Tamaji Amijiki, Fatgum’s prodigies. He winks at the two UA students, earning an overly-excited wave from Kiri in his suit while Tamaki looks like he wishes he wasn’t there. Off to the side near the punch bowls, Hitoshi Shinso is kneeling in front of little Eri, Aizawa and Mic’s daughter, fixing up her dress littered with blooming flowers as she giggles. 

“Let’s get a drink,” Keigo suggests to Sakura to which she agrees. As they walk over to the mini bar for water or maybe a soda, Keigo is immediately ambushed by his friends. Yu aka Mt. Lady, in her normal form, practically runs over to them in a flowing purple dress and her creamy blonde hair tied in a French braid. “Heeey!” she sing-songs, already tipsy with champagne. “There’s my favorite couple!” 

She throws herself at them, nearly breaking Keigo’s neck. “You say that about every couple you know, Yu,” he grunts while Sakura giggles, hugging her back. Yu pouts. “Well, I can’t help that I love love!” she protests. “Baby, tell Keigo to stop bullying me!” 

On cue, Nemuri aka Ms. Midnight steps into the scene with her beautiful and busty self. She decided to go for a nice cobalt blue dress with a slit at the thigh while her hair is pinned back into a curly updo. “My, look at the sights here,” she purrs playfully. She gives Sakura a hug. “You look absolutely amazing, darling. That dress goes with your hair so much.”

Sakura blushes, happy with the compliment. Nemuri smirks at Keigo, a hand on her hip. “Hawks, you’re looking quite dapper today. I’m not used to seeing you without your goggles or a box of fried chicken in your hands.” 

Keigo raises a brow at her, wondering why she wants violence so early in the day. “And I see you ditched the kinky collar for today’s festivities,” he retorts, nodding at her neck. “That’s sayin’ you didn’t bring it with you.” 

“Oh, we did!” Yu says a little too loudly. “Nemuri insisted we take it with us for later.” Nemuri’s face turns as pink as Sakura’s hair while Keigo gives a big, bellied laugh, leaning back as he does. “Alright, alright, take that horny shit somewhere else,” Rumi grumbles, stepping over to shoo the two women away. Yu sticks her tongue out at the bunny hero, but leaves with Nemuri anyway, a hand on her waist. 

Rumi eyes Keigo and Sakura, a playful smirk on her face adorned in soft makeup for the occasion. She went for a one-shouldered red dress that stops just above her muscular thighs and pumps that make her much taller than Keigo. But even with her normal height, the girl is an amazon. “Well, fancy seein’ you two here.” 

“You too, cottontail,” Keigo replies, giving her that same sly smirk. “Where’s your date at?” Rumi gets a devilish look in her eyes as she sips her glass of champagne. “Oh, I’ll be findin’ her after the reception.”  

“And you call Yu and Nemuri horny,” he scoffs. Sakura suddenly taps him on the shoulder, pointing at a nearby outhouse. “Keigo, I’m gonna go to the bathroom real quick before the reception starts.”

He nods and they share a short kiss before he watches her walk away. Rumi watches her too before her eyes tick back to Keigo. “She looks really nice today. Surprised you even let us see her.” She chuckles despite Keigo’s eye roll. “Y’know, for a while, I thought she wasn’t real.” 

“Gimme that,” Keigo grumbles, snatching the champagne glass from her and taking a sip. He wasn’t planning on drinking so early, but he might have to. “Anyway, where’s your roomie? If you’re here, ain’t she here too?” 

He looks for you among the guests, figuring you might be with Rei. “She’s runnin’ late for some reason,” Rumi explains. Keigo scowls at her in confusion and she passively shrugs, crossing her muscular arms. “Kenji came over when I left early to help with decorations, I dunno. Maybe call the girl and find out.” 

Keigo almost doesn’t want to. He has a feeling you’re late for a reason. Maybe you and Rei are fighting? Does he have to pull up and beat some ass, he wonders? Before he can contemplate calling, one of the wedding organizers hurries over to him and Rumi.

“There you are!” he sighs in relief. “We’re gonna start setting up for the reception, so we need you with the other best men.” Keigo winks at Rumi before sauntering off. “Duty calls!” he yells to her over his shoulder. “See you later on the floor!” 

Quickly, he is whisked over to the reception area where most of the guests are seated and the band is readying to begin. When he shows up with the other best men, most of them being pros that he knows, he claps his hand with Fatgum and congratulates him on soon being a married man which Fatgum, in his suit, nearly cries about (the man is very emotional). Afterward, he stands at his post with the others while the bridesmaids face them from the other side where Haruko will soon be. 

Taking advantage of the freedom he has now, he slides his phone out of his pocket and calls you. You don’t pick up on the first ring which is unusual for you unless you’re at work. So Keigo immediately knows something is up. 

You pick up on the fourth ring. “Hello?” you answer, sounding less than pleased. Hearing your biting tone, warning alarms begin to blare in Keigo’s head. Maybe he really will have to beat some ass. Where’s Dabi at today? Maybe he’d be able to help Keigo bust some ass if he the pro can successfully bribe the warden. 

“Hey, where you at?” he whispers into the phone before he can get any other murderous thoughts. “The wedding is starting soon.” You sigh in frustration, making his stomach roil anxiously. “Rei lost his wallet, so we’re gonna be late,” you explain in a huff. “Just save me a seat at the bar when it ends. And take pictures.” 

Though Keigo is disappointed in the outcome of things so far, he promises to do so and hangs up before the wedding can start. It does so about fifteen minutes later. As soon as the band begins their rendition of “Here Comes the Bride”, Keigo’s stomach drops and he stands rigid as if he’s the one getting married.

Fatgum stands with the priest, his hands folded behind his back and trying to appear calm, but Keigo can see that the man is sweating through his suit. Eri comes out in her cute, frilly dress and sprinkles flowers along the floor before she’s scooped up by Aizawa and is sat down in one of the guest chairs. 

Then, finally, Haruko enters with her father, locked arm in arm. The guests stand and turn to the bridge, watching as she waltzes in wearing her flowing white dress adorned in lace and holding a bouquet of red roses that match her waves of red hair. She walks slowly, taking her sweet time. 

But as she does, Keigo notices something: while everyone’s eyes are on her, including Fatgum, her eyes stay strictly transfixed on her soon-to-be-husband, her stare never breaking for a moment. It is as if he is the only one in the room to her. No one else matters. “Isn’t she beautiful?” he hears one of the guests whisper to the other. 

He blinks and suddenly, he is not looking at Haruko in her wedding dress, but at you. You stand there, glowing and radiant in white, your pretty brown eyes staring up at him as you stand together in front of the priest, ready to become one. 

‘Yeah,’ he thinks to himself with a soft smile. ‘She absolutely is.’ 

#friends to lovers #keigo takami x black reader #hawks x black reader #feral hawks is the only hawks #black fanfic writer #smutty smut #bnha smut #my fic shit #black coded reader #keigo takami #my works #hawks smut

[dustedmagazine]

Mamaleek — Diner Coffee (The Flenser)

Diner Coffee by Mamaleek

Many bands in contemporary metal are crafting hybrid forms with genres outside of heavy music’s customary ambit. Lately Blood Incantation and Dream Unending have received attention and acclaim for their proggy, pretty soundscapes, and there’s an even more venerable set of explorations of the terrain between black metal and shoegaze (Alcest and Blut Aus Nord have made some interesting music, Deafheaven has made a bunch of money…). The list of bands and genres goes on, at some length. But few of those bands can match the idiosyncratic imagination and spiritual searching that have inspired Mamaleek. The San Francisco-based project has variously engaged trip hop, shamanistic tribal percussion, industrial noise and jazz, always working from a dour, blackened sensibility. With this new LP, Diner Coffee, things have gotten decidedly weirder. Edward Hopper’s Nighthawks (1942) if painted by George Grosz? The early, beatnik version of Tom Waits, jamming with Teitanblood? Sort of, but not really. Nothing else sounds like Diner Coffee.

The new record is in aesthetic and thematic conversation with Mamaleek’s previous LP, Come and See (2020). That record felt less like a project and more like the work of a band, producing an agonized aggregate of doomy skronk and sludgy free jazz. Diner Coffee intensifies the engagement with jazz, but favors the 1950s, with its cooler tones and refinements of the wilds that hard bop had opened. You can hear that in the opening minutes of “Boiler Room” and throughout the title track, which features nightmarish nods to Wes Montgomery’s playing. There’s a dominant musical mood at work, which seems intent on constructing a milieu: murky late night bleeding into bleary early morning, second-shifters mingling with drunks on benders, blue-plate specials and bottomless mugs of joe. 

So far, so good, and fairly scannable. Many artworks that seek to uncover an urban American night world go noirish, romanticizing its darkness and dangers. Characteristically, Mamaleek makes different choices. The record starts with spates of lunatic laughter, contrasted with gritty, doomy crashes of metal volume. Those contrasts continue: the atmospheric, haunted piano runs of “Badtimers” with the song’s hyperbolic, howling vocals; the Mingus-like pulses of bass and fluttering woodwinds in “Grief and a Headhunter’s Rage” with slithering, creepy guitar lines. The unpredictable oddness of the compositions undoes any stylized distancing, so essential to noir’s aesthetics, and when the darkness gets deep, it’s too full of nervy risk or addled hilarity to be romantic. 

Like Come and See, Diner Coffee has an American space in mind. Come and See focused on Chicago’s Cabrini-Green, the attendant intensities of closed-in places and the mordant horror of feeling trapped. Diners are transient, you come and go. Even the regular customer may be surprised by who shows up on the next stool at the counter. The restlessness of Diner Coffee’s songs seems to want to dramatize that mobility. The resulting music is interesting and strange, evocative and unsettling. It’s a challenging record — but that’s no surprise, it’s a Mamaleek LP. It’s also very, very good. 

Jonathan Shaw

#mamaleek #diner coffee #the flenser #jonathan shaw #albumreview #dusted magazine #metal #trip hop #industrial noise #jazz #experimental metal #san francisco

[photiniainsummer]

Dancing with the Dark

Rating: Teen and Up

Summary: You've taken to lingering around Dark's office late at night when he thinks he's alone with his old jazz standards.

Or so you thought, until one night you find the door open.

You've always wondered what exactly he does behind it...

It's listen to music. Get your mind out of the gutter. ;)

(second person POV, gender neutral reader)

Word Count: 6860

Author’s Note: No warnings - this is really all just tooth-rotting, tender, slow build romance. There is dancin' and smoochin', though. 👀 Also posted to AO3!

It wasn’t something you had intended to intrude on. The Manor is big, but not that big, and it just so happens that the quickest route to your bedroom means you have to pass Dark’s office suite. As your nights have gotten later and later, trying to keep tabs on Mark and the poor, scattered egos he’s made and dumped, more and more often have you caught soft, crackling music drifting out from behind your sort-of boss’ heavy office door.

At first, you mostly ignored it, noting it with a small smile and continuing to bed. It’s really none of your business what the shadowy man does in his free time, you figured. Plus, you all manage to live on top of one another, despite the Manor’s size, which puts privacy at a premium - who are you to deny him some when he can get it? But as time has passed and you’ve worked intensely together, the original enmity between you two has turned into a professional respect and eventually, you’d hazard, a friendly banter. At least, such as Dark is willing to joke around.

And so, tempted by your mutual softening, and maybe a little curiosity as to what kind of music your ‘leader’ listens to, you’ve found yourself pausing in your path to bed when you catch him playing a record. At first, you only stopped briefly at the top of the stairs with his office across the landing from you, taking a moment to appreciate a few bars of dreamy jazz. It was peaceful, almost magnetically melodic. But you quickly grew self-conscious in your eavesdropping, and, not wanting to seem nosy (despite the fact you definitely were being nosy), moved along to your room.

You crossed the landing to the bit of wall near his door, next, but kept a keen eye on the stairs behind you in case you needed to make a sudden retreat. For a week or so, you took longer, lingering there at the mouth of the short hallway to his office. You would take in a full song before you got antsy, concerned Dark might get up to make a late-night cup of tea and discover you. Even so, you had found it hard to pull yourself away from the lilting voices of his records - time seemed to slow, for just a little while, and you felt you breathed easier, deeper even, once you were back in your bedroom.

Finally, now, and most nights for the last month, you’ve let yourself truly relax just outside his door. He never leaves, not that you’ve seen, and so you’ve taken to resting in the shadow of the short hallway and letting the hypnotic drags of a brush across a snare, crooning voices over a string quartet wrap around you. Dark’s music is never truly jazzy, never truly swinging, and it soothes you like very little else can these days. It’s steady - you think that’s what’s so appealing about it - drawing you in at the end of a long day for a moment of reprieve, floating outside of time in the gentle shade of this corner of the Manor.

You’ve gotten used to it, to be sure. The sleepy, tripping dance of a horn greets you at the end of each long day spent combing through Mark’s videos, hunting for hints as to his next move. The quiet moments spent letting the gentle jazz unwind some tight thing in your chest have become just as much your routine as they are Dark’s - and you understand why he takes the time. Until you started lingering to listen, you were harder up for time alone than you thought with barely a moment to spend in your own head. Everything was focused on maneuvering around Mark, a seemingly endless game of cat-and-mouse that left you tossing and turning and jittering yourself into an exhausted unconsciousness each night. But now, you fall asleep faster, wake up feeling more rested having actually relaxed before bundling down under your covers. You had found a little corner of peace, thanks to Dark. And, perhaps, thanks to your damned nosiness, as the man himself had called it once.

Only occasionally as you lean against the wallpaper have you allowed yourself to think about the man behind the door. For all your collaboration, Dark is still a mysterious, calculating, and distant figure. It’s by his own making, too. He’s been content to work closely with you planning Mark’s downfall, but keeps his own cards so close to his chest you have to wonder if he can even see them now, so to speak.

Perhaps he knows them well enough not to need to.

You’ve learned not to pry too much about any of the egos’ pasts and what they remember of them, unless you’re just in the mood for awkward, dead-end conversations. Wilford doesn’t seem troubled in the moment, human bouncy ball that he is, but responds vaguely - even for him - before up and disappearing for a few days. Google spouts some kind of technical jargon about his assembly warehouse that you can barely keep up with, then focuses intently on changing the subject. The Host only gives you one of his polite little smiles and reminds you that your futures are ‘of a more pressing nature’ than his past is.

The only one you’ve totally avoided trying to bring up the subject with is Dark. Your first real conversation had edged on it, and his reaction - aura practically blowing all the lightbulbs in the room, crackling copies of himself writhing in rage - had been pretty clearly in the ‘not positive’ camp. You’ve not had the stomach to unnecessarily incite his ire, so most of what you know about him, you’ve put together yourself. A vague understanding of his blended nature, the people he was before, their relationships to Mark… But it’s all guesses and deductive work about people long gone from the plane you inhabit. Grasping at shadows and context clues to paint a portrait of how the being, who deeply dislikes the outsize attention his central role as Mark’s primary ‘villain’ commands, came to be.

Yet, you do know some things about what he’s like. That he doesn’t seem to need to eat or take breaks of any kind. That he’s single-mindedly devoted to stopping Mark in his tracks, and intensely methodical about the whole endeavor. Even when you think you’ve caught him reading something for fun, it turns out to be Mark-adjacent. It’s impressive, you admit, but also why hearing those strains of songs sung long ago, finding him doing something unproductive has captured you so. To think of him taking time for himself, doing nothing but enjoying some music… it simultaneously feels incredibly decadent and comforting. For all his hardworking exterior, there are quiet moments Dark takes to relax. Even more than his music, that soothes something in your heart you didn’t even know was tense.

Plus, good lord. The man listens to croony, moony, love-sick music late at night when the rest of the Manor has retreated to their own separate corners. How could you not melt?

Yet it’s impossible for you not to wonder what exactly he does behind his office door. It’s always firmly shut, and even with the proclivity toward psychic abilities in the Manor’s residents, you can’t completely school the curiosity it inspires. Listening to a couple croon about the stars or something equally cheesy from your spot out in the hall, you’ll often picture him relaxing in one of the high-backed armchairs situated near the heavy fireplace. Maybe he’s shut the door to his workspace proper, allowed himself some wine from the cellar, propped his feet up… Maybe he’s truly relaxing, thinking of something altogether having nothing to do with his work. It’s anachronistic enough to your steadfast image of him to be ridiculous, but you also can’t help but hope it exists in some form, protected behind the dark wood that muffles already-quietly trilling piano keys.

This is why, late one night, you’re stopped in your tracks at the foot of the stairs, already able to hear his music. You’d been just about to pull yourself up the stairs by the handrails, eyes bleary from staring at your screen all day when you’d picked out the dreamy march of brass. You’ve only ever been able to hear his records when you’re standing on the landing - is something wrong? Cautiously, you ascend the tightly winding stairs, your thoughts mirroring the spiraling steps as they scramble, chasing away any haziness.

Reaching the landing, you find dancing firelight spilling out across the thick Persian rug there, Dark’s door cracked shockingly wide. The sight is almost obscene, illuminating the spot that has been your shadowy cocoon. It’s only made more stark by the clarity of the music that lilts through the air. You have the keen, embarrassed feeling that you should not be seeing what you’re seeing, that you’re intruding, infringing on something private - even though all you can see of the office is a little bit of wall just inside the door. Even so, the sudden need to stop this, to preserve something personal, quiet, safe for Dark overtakes you. You’re spurred into action, crossing the space on careful feet. You move to shut the door, to right this obvious wrong, but as your hand takes the old brass knob, the music from within murmurs tender thoughts of lovers embracing after an age apart. Even with your goal so firmly in mind, you can’t stop your eyes from flitting over the sliver of his office the crack in the door reveals.

And, oh, what it reveals.

As if intentionally centered for your view, Dark is, as you’ve imagined countless times, tucked into one of the armchairs near the fire. His suit jacket has been carefully folded and hung over the back of his chair, his starkly white dress shirt unbuttoned at the collar to reveal a bit of the skin at his throat. More is revealed by the tilt of his head as he rests it back in the crook of the armchair’s wings.

You’ve never seen him so… undressed before. You immediately flush, embarrassedly shooing the thought away before it can become anything more than a passing observation. You’re thankful to see that his piercing eyes are gently shut, the breaths he draws steady and quiet. Even his aura is still, nonexistent except for his colorlessness. The dull ring that accompanies him, too, is almost completely silent. Whatever remains is drowned out by the softly crackling gramaphone to his side.

Although you know he doesn’t need to sleep, the tender image of him relaxed enough as to fall into it twists something so totally in your heart that it keeps you there, hand on the doorknob. You know you need to close the door back, and carefully, too, so you don’t pop whatever bubble of peace he’s floating in, but… It’s like having a dragonfly land on the tip of your finger, spotting a deer at the edge of your garden, catching the sun breaking over the horizon and truly beginning to dawn. How can you look away before it ends?

But you’re playing with fire in waiting for this moment to end, and, unfortunately, you get burned.

At least, it feels like you do. Suddenly, Dark’s head comes up, his eyes cracking open, and the cold heat of being caught scalds the back of your neck. You go to close the door, but it’s too late - his black eyes catch yours, and he calls your name. It’s gentle, a distant question, but it still makes your heart sink into some pitiful little depth of your stomach. There’s no way to play this off casually; he sounds truly awake. Either he wasn’t actually sleeping, or you’ve startled him enough to banish any hint of drowsiness from his voice. You’ve ruined this precious little thing, your knowledge of it revealed, and, gosh, you feel miserable for it. But you were called, and so you crack the door a little wider, an apology already on your lips.

“I was just going to shut it for you, I’m sorry,” you offer, quietly, as if trying not to interrupt the music still going at his elbow.

Dark doesn’t immediately respond, watching you with his usually piercing, contrasted eyes. Yet, they’re softer, tired - was he actually sleeping? The gramophone crackles like the low fire nearby. The record playing spins wobblingly, curled with age. The music is even dreamier unfiltered like this, giving the lowly-lit room a hint of unreality. Time seems to stretch between you, and when he finally speaks, his echoing, multi-throated voice only adds to the feeling you’re imagining things.

“...you may come in, if you would like.”

Something has gone horribly wrong. He, or another ego, is dying or has died, you’re certain of it. That, or Mark has figured out your plan to collect them and gotten to one first, maybe Yancy or the Captain, taking them out of the picture or scooping them up for himself. It’s the only obvious explanation your startled mind can offer for seeing Dark so markedly undone - his jacket, his shirt, the door…

Just as quickly, you realize how ridiculous the thought is. Dark wouldn’t look like a rather sleepy cat, cozied up to the fire with his music of choice, much less invite you so casually into his inner sanctum if things had gone to hell. No, there’d be more rending of reality or quick, tense words - a contingency plan thrown into action.

Which means you actually have to deal with being invited into his office late at night, a place you’ve hovered around and imagined for nigh on a month. You force yourself to respond casually, nodding as if this is normal for the two of you as you step over the threshold. He gestures for you to shut the door, and you do, gently putting it to rights before crossing the bookshelf-lined room to join him.

Like you always do. Obviously.

Once near the fire, you can see his aura is beginning to stir once more, the edges of him blurring with compelling darkness. In all the imagining you’d dared to entertain, you have never considered what his face would look like in these moments. His brow is relaxed, his expression open, and though his attention is fully fixed on you, it doesn’t cut through you or hunt for answers. He is merely regarding, the firelight only able to cast dancing shadows across his face for all its warmth. He’s relaxed. Relax-ing .

It’s, again, almost obscene. So much more than you anticipated. It’s one thing to imagine all that you have in theory, a different one to see it in truth, to experience it. And Dark, relaxing, is something you can barely take your eyes off of. He looks so much more like a person, undone after a long day of work, not quite ready to trip off to bed. With his aura so reserved, only mildly undulating at the very edges of him, you could almost dismiss it as a trick of the light, if not for how he absorbs and negates color.

Just a man.

Trying to stay casual, you prop yourself on the chair across from him, chin in hand, and you both watch each other for a moment. Both quiet. Both tired. Except your silence is tinged with subtle awe. At being invited in, at being here, at seeing him this way. It’s like the killer panther that typically stares you down from the shadows giving you a lazy, sun-warmed blink. As much as you try to treat Dark normally, there are moments when you can’t help being amazed - though it’s usually due to his eldritch powers and not him engaging in the simple act of sleeping.

Which begs the question - why leave the door open while he was so indisposed? Mild concern rises again, and you feel compelled to ask.

“Is everything okay…?”

You swear his eyes twinkle, amused. It’s hard to tell with the fire dancing like it is, his face remaining otherwise unchanged. You want to frown, wondering how loud your thoughts have been, but leave it.

“Yes... and no, as always. Nothing has changed, if that is what you mean. There is no need to worry.”

Coming from anyone else, it would be a formality. Your shoulders would stay hunched, your brow might furrow. But when Dark says it, when he speaks more quietly than you think you’ve ever heard him speak, it scatters whatever remaining fears his invitation had kicked up to the wind. You exhale. It is a comfort, but… It doesn’t explain why he invited you in. If you had really ruined his illusion of privacy, would he so readily let you walk over its remnants?

Suddenly, the answer is clear - so simple and obvious as to be startling. You speak before you can question the thought.

“Just want some company?”

Dark continues to watch you, but his gaze loses some of its lethargy. The panther stirs, considering. Weighing. Calculating. Heat rises up your neck ever so slightly - that will teach you to jump to conclusions.

But then he hums and gives an affirming nod. He gestures to the seat you’re leaning on. “Again, if you would like…”

Is that hesitancy?

You really feel like you’re dreaming as you settle across from him. He just wants company. He hesitated. He couldn’t even ask for it. Notably distant Dark, who never joins the rest of you for meals, for after-dinner drinks, who you rarely ever see outside his office… wants company. Although the chair’s winged back curls around you and radiates warmth absorbed from the fire, you find it difficult to relax as he continues to, turning his black-and-white gaze to the fire. Does he want conversation? Comfortable silence? How are you meant to parse what he’s wanting against the background of how surreal it is that you’re actually here?

But little things remind you that this is very much happening - the heat of the nearby fire, the music’s volume being slightly louder than you’d imagined. Although, you remind yourself, you’ve been hearing it muffled by heavy wood until now. It’s still relatively soft, just clearer up close. Your eyes fall to the gramophone piping it out. You’ve seen it in passing, but it registered about as much as the carved wooden globe on the mantle - furniture, meant as a finishing touch for the room. It looks like a true antique, though, its curved neck and ornate mouth lovingly maintained, polished to a shine apart from a few inevitable age spots. It’s close enough to Dark for him to operate without getting up, records tidily shelved underneath.

Your eyes edge back to the man seated so nearby. His slowly awakening aura is gently tugging at your attention, but he himself pays you no mind. That relieves you, somewhat, a silent answer to what his idea of ‘company’ is.

You realize, then, that you’ve never simply existed with him before. Throughout your time at the Manor, you two have only ever been in each other’s company to work or exchange information. There’s always been a goal, something to focus on, to accomplish. But now… there’s nothing. Nothing to do but exist.

Why does that suddenly feel so hard?

You must be thinking rather loudly, because Dark’s gaze slides leisurely from the flames onto you. He tilts his head, but not in that strange drifting motion it sometimes does, gravitating to some sick angle of its own accord. No, he’s just curious. You smile sheepishly, wondering if all your mental spinning has disturbed his peace, made him second-guess inviting you in.

“Too loud?”

Another amused flicker in his colorless eyes. “No louder than usual.”

So tired Dark has jokes , apparently. You give him a look. “Not exactly comforting.”

“To be fair, they are much quieter than when you arrived.” It’s almost a compliment - at least he’s not calling you loud anymore. Letting that be a comfort, you attempt to relax back into the chair. It, like the rest of the Manor’s furniture, feels straight out of a period drama with none of the damage of age. It’s still as soft as it was whenever Dark crafted this bubble of reality.

“It’s hard when you can’t control it - like I have noise cancelling headphones and can’t hear myself or anyone else.”

He hums. “You do not need to explain it to me.” Ouch. You look to the fire, taking the inside of your cheek between your teeth. When will you learn to keep your foot out of your mouth? Dark senses the sudden silence and mildly clears his throat. “I mean… Only to say that I understand you do not have the same ability. I do not hold it against you.”

His voice still has that quietness to it, a low, gentle undercurrent. It’s practically an apology, how he chooses his words. You shift, rubbing your finger joints with your other hand. You’ve been told it looks like hand-wringing, but it soothes you and the soreness there. “I think you saw it differently, when I first got here,” you hazard, just as quiet as you look back to him. Dark is watching you evenly, but something shifts in his brow as he recalls that first day. How different your tones had been, how differently you’d approached the other. You’re only feet from where that first conversation took place, and yet…

“...much was different, then,” he murmurs. “I was, perhaps… harsher than I should have been. I was unaccustomed to the sensation, not at my best.” He seems to stop himself there, closing something that was edging open before looking back to the fire. “I have grown used to it. The sound of your thoughts does not trouble me, but you have also improved at closing your mind. It is impressive, for someone unlike the rest of us.”

Good lord, maybe he actually is dying. You don’t think you’ve heard so many kind words from the man in all your months of living together. His gaze stays fixed on the flames, even as you stare at him, a little stunned. Silence draws out between you, filled only by tonight’s accompaniment. Yet, it doesn’t spark with nervous energy or prickle in pointed coldness. It crackles like ancient records warped with time, old oak burning to warm a place apart from the rest of existence. You settle deeper into the armchair, eyes turning from the shadow you’re keeping company.

He only barely catches your pleased little smile, finding it hard to look at you for too long.

-

From then on, Dark leaves the door open for you, although cracked much less wide than before. When you call it a night, you make your way through the Manor to your seat near his fire instead of right to bed. Although the weather of the world still reaches you, the place Dark maintains is always just slightly colder, so the fire’s warmth is never unwelcome. Sometimes you talk, sometimes you sit together in silence, but regardless of how chatty either of you feel, there’s always music curling underneath the moment. Dark doesn’t sleep like he did the first night, but he always has his coat off and that softer turn to his eyes by the time you arrive. It’s strange, at first, to see him switch so much between his work and leisure personas, and at first you wonder why he’s not always so relaxed. Surely things would be less tense.

And then you remember Wilford’s incessant gunfire, Google’s underlying objective, the weight of his very existence. Without his steady, cool glare, the Manor would be full of bullet holes, and they’d all probably be dead with Mark free to break reality to his whim. If Dark wasn’t so tightly wound, everything would come undone.

So you enjoy - scratch that. You let him be how he is, in each moment, without comparison. Sure, it’s nice to talk to Dark when he isn’t grinding out words from between his teeth, and seeing him undone has removed whatever distance might have remained between you, but to say you enjoy him…

Christ. Who are you kidding - you really enjoy him.

It really happens without you noticing, and it almost drives you nuts with how cliche it all is. Things just build up - he has a pillow placed in your chair just so for your lower back, you pull the smallest of smiles of him with a well-put observation (and find that his eyes crinkle the same way the other egos’ do) - until one night he asks you to dance.

He’s not quite so blunt as that about it, but it’s essentially what happens. You’re sitting together, having fallen into one of those comfortably quiet moments when a song comes on that you recognize. Not from your time lingering around Dark’s door, but from before you came to the Manor, vague memories welling up of a ballroom dancing class in undergrad you’d taken for fun full of sore toes and sweaty hands. You laugh, suddenly, startled at just how far away that moment feels. You try to cover it with your hand, but you continue to chuckle as something about the ridiculousness of it gets to you, and Dark watches you with some mix of amusement and concern. There’s a little of that predator’s intentionality there - searching for answers. You shake your head as you calm, dropping your hand but still smiling.

“Just… I know this song.”

“Oh?” Read: Continue.

“Well, I… Back in my first year at university, I... well, I signed up for this ballroom dancing unit. This was one of the songs we used, I think.” Dark inclines his head as something changes in his gaze. Your last little aftershock of laughter passes and you settle back into watching the fire lick at its grate, content to let it lie. But Dark continues to watch you. Feeling him still staring, you look back - very little of that soft turn to his eyes remains. He is a man focused. “What?” you eventually ask, shifting under his stare.

“I did not know you danced.”

You fluster, then, scoffing at the idea, eyes falling to the carpet between you. “I… don’t. Unless you count slow dancing, I guess. It was just the one class. Forever ago.”

He’s not content, fixated. But quiet. Considering. Weighing. Then…

“Would you like to?”

You look back quickly enough that you wonder if his aura pulled at you in tandem with your surprise. “Wh. I… Now?”

He nods, slowly. You just stare, trying to process the idea and coming up with no clear thoughts. Then he does something funny - he actually shifts under your scrutiny, gaze flickering away for the briefest of moments before returning to you. That alone is enough to stun you further, Dark looking practically shy, but he explains. “In my day, I was an avid dancer. I enjoyed little else outside of… work. I can show you how.”

You momentarily wonder which of his past lives he means before you find yourself nodding in agreement. Even if you hadn’t wanted to, this is… new. Dark offering so much at such little gain to himself, unfurling those cards from so close to his chest. Refusing now might mean they would never come away again.

“Can you?” Your voice is surprisingly dry, distant, but Dark doesn’t seem to notice, focused on the task now at hand. On you. He only nods and rises from his chair in a smooth motion before offering you a hand.

From experience, you know he leeches color from whatever he touches, even things in his vicinity if his aura is expansive and active enough. Yet, you’ve never had reason to make direct contact, and so you still watch in minor surprise as your hand loses its luster and gains a black-and-white cast when you take his. “It isn’t permanent,” he explains as you stand to join him. “It’s only… plants, that can’t handle it.” He sounds mildly embarrassed, and it clicks why you’ve never seen him in the Host’s garden. The future-sighted ego had probably barred him from the place years ago.

“Oh,” you reply lamely, and he ducks his head somewhat before leading you to the more open space between your chairs and the outer office door. There, he turns smoothly and you’re in position, having used his hold on your hand to subtly guide you closer. Your other hand lands on his upper arm, almost at his shoulder, and he gently shifts his elbow under yours to guide it to rest on top, near his collar. His own hand comes to rest higher on your back than you remember from class, almost on your shoulder blade.

It feels so proper, how you stand, how he holds you… Against the age-old music set to guide you and the Manor’s unchanged decor, you can almost see who he was before - the swish of a beaded skirt, the creak of a heavy cane - but then he speaks, heavy with shadow, and all you know is the darkness in your arms, here and now.

“Just a simple step. You remember a waltz?” You nod - did we dance this close together back then? “Good. Then you know to follow me. Stay relaxed...”

The idea of relaxing flies out of your mind the minute he guides you backward. All your mental energy is focused on not laughing in pure nervous surprise as he seems to get closer and closer before your muscle memory manages to kick in and you’re stepping back with him. You’re slightly out of sync, and he slows just so to catch up with you before he brings you back up to the pace of the song. “Relax,” he murmurs, dipping his head so much closer to yours than feels decent as he speaks, as if sharing a secret. “I have you.”

You certainly do, you think, immediately glad you’ve been practicing keeping your mind closed more often. With all the time you were spending with Dark in his off-hours, you had felt it was only fair that you didn’t overload him any further. That extra practice is coming in handy now as your thoughts swirl behind the dam you imagine holds them back from the general psychic public - your dance partner in particular.

True to his word, Dark keeps it simple, guiding you slowly around the open space, easily turning you in lazy patterns across the floor. And thank goodness for that - anything more complicated and you wouldn’t be able to balance it with how hyper-aware you are of everywhere the two of you touch, the feeling of his firm shoulder and crisp dress shirt under your hand, the skin of his palm against yours - softer than you’d imagined, with calluses inside his first finger from years of pen-writing.

All the same little anxieties bubble up, long-forgotten but haunting you now with a vengeance. Are you gripping him too tightly? Are you anticipating his movements too much? Is your hand getting sweaty, or is that normal? Can he hear you breathing funny? You’ve thankfully settled into a comfortable angle of faces, yours turned slightly to the left and down, eyes fixed firmly on the curve of his shoulder. You don’t think you could trust yourself to make eye contact just now. You can’t say how exactly Dark’s face is turned, though, so focused on keeping your eyes where they are and your thoughts in check that you haven’t looked - nor do you hear him speaking your name until he squeezes you ever so slightly.

You turn, bidden, and you’re practically nose to nose. His stark eyes are already watching you when you meet them, and it steals whatever shallow breath was in your lungs. Up close, you would think you would be able to discern a hint of color in his irises, find that they were really a dark, dark brown. But they are truly, completely black. And they watch you so carefully, thoughtfully, with barely any room to breathe between you.

Your face must betray how the proximity startles you, because you get treated to another of his small, almost imperceptible smiles. Up close. You can see how it pulls at his eyes, and you’re thankful now that you can’t bring yourself to look away. “I… Yes?”

“You’re quiet,” he explains, after a beat.

“Do you… typically talk, dancing like this?” When did your throat get so dry? Dark chuckles, low and only for a moment.

“You can... But I was referring to your thoughts.” Uh oh.

“Oh…?” You try to sound normal, mildly interested instead of panicked, already floundering for what to say. Dark’s eyes flicker across your face, and you feel horribly exposed. As if, through the underbrush, you’ve just caught the gleam of a predator’s gaze.

“The closer you are, the more clearly I hear them. Yet…” He pauses, turning you past a low table. “I can barely hear you at all.” Then his voice grows softer, somehow, and your throat feels like it’s never known water. “Where did you go?”

“I…” You swallow fruitlessly, dropping your gaze back to his shoulder, to safety. What can you say to explain the sudden, obvious gap without blurting oh, it’s nothing, I only just realized I’ve been falling in love with you for the past couple of months when you asked me to dance and now I’m trying not to lose it while you hold me. “I’ve… been practicing,” you try. It’s the truth, at least. But you still can’t meet his eyes, though you feel them keenly observing you. “Didn’t… Didn’t want to be shouting at you, from, well... this close.”

He’s quiet then, focusing on sweeping you steadily around the room. The song has changed, your pace slowing somewhat to match the new one, and he takes the chance to guide you through a slightly more complicated step, jettisoning words in favor of taking you through a lazy spin before you fall back into the same step as before. You think you might have dodged a bullet as you settle into the movement, your gentle contact not so new and mind-reeling as it was when you started. But then he speaks, and the echo of his voice almost covers his words for how low it is.

“I… enjoy hearing your thoughts. Hearing you.” Dark’s hand holds yours more firmly as the one on your back brings you close to his chest. He’s practically cradling you against him, and you turn your face towards his in the moment to keep from being trapped looking away. You’ve never seen him make the face he’s wearing now - so serious, brow pulled just slightly, intent, yet that searching intensity has faded. Earnest . “I… I enjoy you. Unless you want your privacy, you are free to… be open with me. If you would like,” he's quick to add, his signature phrase that feels so much like as you wish.

You’re grateful he brings you to an easy stop, even as the music continues behind you because dancing has become beyond your grasp. Your eyes flicker across his shadowed face, mind scrambling as the dam you imagine creaks dangerously within. How much is too much? You hunt for clues in his expression, his face betraying so damn little like always, but then - then - his eyes flicker ever so briefly to your lips, and your eyes perceive a slightly darker shade of gray unfurling across his cheeks.

So you let go.

You don’t drown him in it, of course, but you allow your mind to open slowly once more. He inhales a forcibly steady breath, eyes searching yours once more as he processes, weighs, and finally draws you completely into him, head turning just so to finally fit your lips together in a kiss that feels like crisp, refreshing relief and wood smoke under a winter moon. You breathe in, feeling how cool he is to the touch, how steady he is under your hands, your kiss, even as his aura constantly roils.

Dark drops your hand to cradle your head and draw you further in, your arm finds its way around his broad back. His lips leave yours and you’re already starting to imagine your next kiss before he interrupts and gives it to you, a low sound in his throat and his hand bringing a tilt to your head that makes you incredibly thankful for how he’s holding you up. You kiss, and kiss, parting and rejoining in soft pecks and long presses that make the old standards you’ve bonded over sound like both the truest truths and palest lies.

Eventually, though, he withdraws, letting you catch your breath, soothing you with small kisses trailing from your lips to your jaw and back toward the joint of it and your neck. He’s adoring and unhurried - though the farther down his lips descend, the less air you can properly draw in. He slows on the softer skin there, hand still supporting your head where you tipped it back for him, and inhales gently as if he, too, needs to be steadied. His voice is a distant rumble, as much in your head as it is spoken. “Is my music really so moony...?”

It’s so sudden, your thoughts laid bare against the hint of his insecurity. A laugh bubbles up and out of you, breathless waves shaking your body. You only hold onto him tighter, and he squeezes you back in turn. You can feel him really smiling down against your neck, the pull of his lips and rounding of his cheeks evident against your sensitive skin. Why had you even tried to hide?

“The fact that you could sing any of them while gazing longingly at the stars should answer your question,” you tease, and he’s laughing with you, settling into just holding you close. “...but I like it. It’s romantic.”

“It was not my original intent, but...what wonderful results,” he murmurs, kissing your throat once more before coming back up, letting you catch your breath properly. How does he make the cheesiest things sound good?

“Mine either,” you admit. His brow quirks above warm eyes.

“No? What, then, was your intent in imagining how I chose to relax?” he asks, a wicked tease coloring his tone. You blink, and then heat rises up the back of your neck, your ears burn. He knew?? The whole time?????

“You could…” Your voice is distant as Dark draws the back of his hand softly across your cheek, fingers trailing the blush rising there. His eyes dip to follow it, watching it unfurl under your skin with the most damnably amused smile you’ve ever seen him wear. Damn him. Damn him, of course he knew!

“You should know doors can do very little to stop me…” You groan miserably. “But I liked it. It was romantic,” he continues, echoing you. It has such buried mirth that it only serves to embarrass you further, so you worm your arms against his chest, trying to push him off. He only chuckles that deep chuckle and holds you closer, lips pressing to your temple. “And so kind of you to want to protect me and my little moment… Did I really look so deliciously undressed...”

“Oh my god. Oh my god!” And here he had been playing coy this whole time! Letting you just dangle all your most embarrassing thoughts for anyone to see! You continue to struggle against him, if only to register your complaint. “You’ve completely ruined this, I hope you’re happy, you insufferable--” He dips and catches your lips again, humming and silencing your insults with his kiss. For all your indignant protesting, it’s impossible not to melt against him, your hands that tried to push him away stilling against his chest before sliding up to meet behind his neck. When he finally breaks your embrace, you huff softly. “I can’t believe you.”

He’s smiling, but sobers slightly as you hold each other, his eyes just taking you in. “...it was a comfort to me, to know I was not alone in my affection… despite all my hesitation in admitting it. I did say I enjoy hearing you for a reason, lamb.”

You’re melting, but then your nose wrinkles. “Lamb?” Dark tilts his head.

“Pet?”

“Why all the animal names?”

It’s his turn to huff, then. “It seems I am not as skilled as Wilford when it comes to terms of endearment.” Your nose wrinkles further, the rotating cast of gushy names the mustachioed man throws around only making you wince with laughter.

“Please, no, I know you can do better than those.”

Dark puffs up a little at that, somehow pleased by the implication. “I’ll have to put my mind to it when I’m fresh, then. But for now…” He draws back, taking your hand into his, the other sliding up your back and into position. “Shall we?”

“Gladly,” you murmur, and he leads you in an altogether different dance.

#markiplier fanfiction #markiplier egos #ego fanfiction #darkiplier x reader #darkiplier #mad market pliers ramblings

[may-fanfic]

Safe With Me

summary: you’re married to mob!natasha and while she’s in a meeting you make yourself busy at the bar until things take a turn and Natasha has to come to your aid 

word count: 1,055 

warnings: choking, mentions of guns and mob activity ig 

masterlist 

a/n: the thought of mob!nat is so hot to me idk why 😳

((feel free to send in any request you may have)) 

------- 

your eyes lit up as you watched the jazz band play on stage, a smile taking over your lips, watching in glee. as much as you didn't want to come to this bar so late at night, Natasha had some business to take care of and you knew the woman refused to leave you home so late so you tagged along to make your wife happy. now you were more than glad because you were sipping at your white wine, watching closely to the way the men played.

your fingers circled your wine glass, nodding your head to the music to show your appreciation. for a moment, your life felt normal, it reminded you of your life before Natasha. you missed your simple life dearly because admittedly, being married to Natasha brought a lot of unnecessary drama to your life. you loved her though and you wouldn't give her up for anything. despite the fights and arguments, you always found your way back into Natasha's arms.

"hey doll." a soft hand brushed against your shoulder causing you to flinch lightly but then it registered that no one's voice could ever be as smooth as hers.

"hi," you whispered back, leaning into the hand that caressed at the nape of your neck before she inched closer and pressed a kiss to your earlobe. she knew you were tired, she hated having you out so late but business called and she had to answer. even if she was in bed with you when her men called, it was her job as the leader. "this might run on later than we thought, dear." she husked out into your ear causing the smile that was tugged at your lips to tremble.

you knew what Natasha had done but you never asked for the specifics, you didn't want your outlook on her to change.  you turned your head to look up at the woman, her hand coming up to caress softly at your cheek. "give me another hour, baby then we can go home and enjoy our night." you knew another hour could well on drag to two and you dreaded the thought of having to be there for a second longer.

"Okay." you pouted causing the woman to lean down to brush a kiss to your forehead and then another to your lips. you figured as long as the band stayed on stage, you could make it another hour but when Natasha left, you felt lonelier than ever.  

---- after you drank yourself into oblivion, you decided it'd be a good time to go to the bathroom to freshen yourself up so Natasha couldn't comment on how sloppy you had gotten. before you could make it to the bathroom, you stumbled into a tall, well-built man. you hardly noticed bumping into him because you were so far gone. you looked up at him, his eyes burning a hole in your head.

you only now realized that you knocked all his drinks into his expensive attire before you could even apologize the man had you back into a corner. his eyes more fierce than before as you grew speechless. "I'm-" you tried but then you stumbled over your words and your cheeks burned up. you couldn't even continue if you found the courage to speak because his rough hand quickly gripped your neck as he held you firmly against the wall.

you felt like the man was slightly overreacting, all you had done was spilled a little bit of alcohol on him and now he was choking you tightly. "do you not know who I am, bitch?" he barked out as he reared his face closer to yours. your eyes pooled with tears as you stared him dead in the face, struggling against his hand lightly. you could still hear the faint music in the background but everything else was a blur until her soft voice flooded your ears.

"do you know who I am?"  her voice boomed, roughly pushing her gun into the man's back. he swallowed hard as his hand released your throat turning around to see her scary gaze along with the men who stood behind her. you let out a muffled sob as your hands moved to your neck, swallowing thickly at the scene. you felt like a child in trouble when her hard gaze snapped over at you. "she's mine." she used her free hand to point over at you, he knew he messed up and there was only one way this would end for him.

she didn't give the man a second to plead his case as she uttered out to her trained men to get ruin of him and they all moved in sync gripping the guy up and tugging him away before he was out of your line of sight. your neck ached and it was only when you were certain that you were alone did you let yourself completely break down. your body shook from the sobs, Natasha was quick to make her way over to you, her hard demeanor breaking in a second. you were her soft spot, she'd only do those things for you and you knew it.

it made you feel special when you first met her, she only ever allowed herself to be the real her in front of you and you were more than grateful that she showed you herself without the front of being a stone-cold killer.

"aw, my poor baby," she whispered in a hushed tone, her hands coming up to cup your cheeks as she brushed away your tears.

"you're okay," she smiled weakly noticing the purple bruise that formed around your neck. she should've just let you stay home, it was far too late for you to be looking after yourself in a bar full of drunk, harsh men.

"what's gonna happen to the man?" you asked softly as you nuzzled your face into her chest. the frown on Natasha's lips deepened as she nudged you back a little to hook her fingers under your chin, staring you in the eyes when she tilted your head back. 

"you're so considerate." she forced a smile, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your lips. "don't worry about him." you hated that she wouldn't give you a straight answer but you knew better than to press her on the issue.

"let's get you home, pretty girl."

#natasha romonova #natasha romanoff #natalie rushman #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha x you #natasha x y/n #natasha #natasha marvel #black widow #black widow x reader #black widow x you #black widow x y/n #black widow x female reader #marvel #avengers #the avengers #mob natasha

[five-rivers]

@lucifer-is-a-bag-of-dicks came up with this op!Danny/Marvel AU!

BTW I need help naming this newest proof that I can't keep anything to a short little one-shot.

.

Loki was not, and never had been, a good man. For that matter, whether or not he’d ever been a good boy was debatable. His mother would argue that he had, but she would very likely be the only one. Well, except for Thor, perhaps, but that was because he was an idiot who could drown in three inches of nostalgia. Like he didn’t remember every time Loki had humiliated him. Maybe he didn’t, for all that he kept falling for the same trick over and over again.

It made Loki’s late nights studying the arts of illusion, misdirection, and lying seem redundant. Almost. Not everyone was as dense as his big brother.

No. Loki had never been a good man. He had, however, been a free man.

Free to run or hide. Free to explore the nooks and crannies of Asgard, to uncover her secrets in ways few cared to do. Free to walk hidden paths between the Nine Realms and even farther flung territories, where his people did not and had never ruled, to play games, make deals, have adventures, take risks. To be. To exist as his own creature.

He had been free. He had.

But on one of those little secret excursions, he had discovered something that had made even his flippant, slippery heart clench with fear. A ravening plague, spreading across the stars. The death of half of everything on the horizon.

Loki was not a good man. What cause did he have to care for all the sundry others in the universe? There were too many. It was too much to ask.

But Asgard—His home, even though the had long ago realized the blood in his veins originated on very different soil. That was different.

Asgard, he could help. Asgard could survive.

But it had to be strong. It had to have strong allies. None of this barely-held peace, this enemy eternally at their gates. It needed strong leadership. Not his brother’s simplistic view and longing for the glory of war.

Loki was not a good man. But he was one who could get things done.

Before he knew it, he had burned all his bridges behind him. In one case, a literal bridge that was literally broken.

And he fell.

And he fell.

And he fell right into the hands of the one he had feared enough to do this. Broken enough for poison to drip into the cracks. No one knew where he was, no one could know where he was, except, perhaps, Heimdal, and Loki sincerely doubted Heimdal cared. No one was coming for him. No one was looking for him. No rescue was forthcoming.

He was alone.

Asgardians were considered gods for a reason. Their bodies and minds were much more resilient than the average mortal’s. But Thanos’s people had been titans, and there was a reason for that, too.

Thanos enjoyed breaking him.

And Loki turned his lies on himself. A skilled master of games always had one gifted opponent, even alone. Hadn’t he wanted to rule? To command? To see a world, any world, prostrate at his feet? To be given the recognition and praise of which he was so worth?

To pull something, anything, out of the fire?

(If he had spent less time learning how to spin lies and more on how to see the truth, he might not have believed it. A better, wiser, man would have. But Loki was not a good man. And he was very skilled in his craft.)

So, his new master put a weapon in his hands, and he went off to conquer a world.

.

Danny was used to rude awakenings. He was used to those rude awakenings being full body chills and ghosts, not someone knocking on his door.

Blearily, he pulled himself out from under the blankets. Quasi-military government facility or not, the beds were comfortable. Maybe Mom or Dad had gotten themselves locked out of their room? Or Jazz—No, not Jazz, she hadn’t come with them. She was at college, not being flown places by Mom and Dad’s suspiciously generous new consulting job.

At least it wasn’t the GIW.

He stood on tiptoe (curse his perpetually short body) to peer out the peephole. His parents’ buff, one-eyed, and incredibly imposing new boss stood in front of the door, hands on his hips, slightly sweeping back his long dark coat. If Danny listened carefully, he could hear two other people near the door, and… was that an alarm? Yes. Faint, but present, was a warning klaxon.

Okay. Danny would bet his right arm that something had gone horribly wrong with whatever his parents were consulting on. Didn’t explain why the boss was in front of his door.

Unless they’d gotten the rooms mixed up, somehow?

Ugh. Danny wasn’t paid enough to deal with this.

He opened the door. “What-?”

“Phantom,” intoned eyepatch guy with great solemnity.

Danny immediately tried to close the door. The guy stuck his foot in the jamb, and, sure, Danny could have crushed it, but that would be a jerk move. He didn’t think this guy was going for a pirate look, after all.

“We need your help.”

.

“I’m not sure what you think I can help you with,” yelled Danny over the beating of the helicopter blades. He’d remained stubbornly in human form. “My parents are the scientists. This sounds like a science thing. Not a punching-people thing.”

“We spoke to them earlier,” said Fury, “and we have plenty of scientists working on the theories they brought up. You’re the one with practical experience.”

“Practical experience in what?”

“Interdimensional portals,” said the woman, who had yet to introduce herself.

As if this whole thing wasn’t already giving him a bad feeling. “My parents built an interdimensional portal. Again, you should be talking to them. They’re the ones you’re paying.”

“We could pay you, too,” said Fury, “but we assumed you would want to avoid letting your parents know about this, as you’re still a minor and they have control of your bank accounts.”

Danny stared flatly. “This is blackmail.”

“We aren’t threatening you,” pointed out the woman.

“Emotional blackmail,” said Danny, glaring, daring her to challenge him on whether or not he actually knew what blackmail was.

In the meantime, the helicopter landed. Danny unbuckled and hopped out, trailing slightly awkwardly behind Fury and the woman. He didn’t want to stand out, but he suspected that, being the only kid here and being in the general vicinity of Fury, who radiated authority, that was a lost cause.

“This is Agent Coulson. Coulson, this is Phantom.”

Danny’s mouth went dry(er) at how casual the introduction was. His eyes went nervously to all the other people running around the field. With all the noise, it was unlikely anyone had heard, but still…

“Can you not? Secret identity and all? Unless you’ve told everyone herealready, which, rude.”

Fury sighed. “How bad is it?” he asked Coulson.

“We’re not sure,” said Coulson. “That’s the problem. Big fan of your work, by the way,” he added as an aside to Danny. He glanced at the woman. “Agent Hill.”

“Background?” asked Fury as he led the way into the building.

“The first energy surge was four hours ago. Dr. Selvig’s equipment picked it up – He’s the head scientist on this project.”

“Dr. Selvig isn’t authorized to test,” said Fury. “We wanted to run his plans by the Fentons.”

“He wasn’t testing. He wasn’t even in the room. He called it ‘spontaneous advancement.’”

“It turned itself on?”

“What are the energy levels?” asked Fury before Hill’s question could be answered.

“Climbing,” said Coulson.

“Mr. Fenton,” said Fury, “any comments?”

“Look, I don’t even know what this thing that you built looks like or what it’s a door to.” Danny frowned as a thought occurred to him. “You’re not expecting me to fight whatever comes out of it, are you? Because, unless you’ve got a ghost portal down there, I can’t make guarantees.”

“It’s called the Tesseract,” said Coulson. “It’s supposed to be a connection to the other side of space. A source of unlimited energy. At least,” there was a note of humor in his voice despite the evacuation taking place around them, “that’s what the scientists say.”

“A door to space?” asked Danny, firmly shoving down his excitement at the prospect. “Like, a Stargate?” It was no good, he could practically feel himself sparkling. He took a firm grip of his core and reminded himself he might need to fight before the end of the day.

“Well, no,” said Coulson. “It’s this little… cube… thing.” He made a shape with his hands.

“Oh,” said Danny, mind still whirring. “You know, if it’s really a tesseract, it isn’t a cube in just three dimensions, so bigger things could come out of it than you’d think.” He’d seen some weird portals in the Ghost Zone.

“Well, right now, we’re just getting energy.” They entered a large room with an extremely sci-fi setup. It looked like they were planning to shoot some kind of laser across the room onto a platform surrounded by strange-looking panels. There were men with guns scattered around in what was probably a well thought out formation Danny couldn’t see. There was also a dude with a bow sitting up in the rafters. He frowned down at Danny as he noticed Danny noticing him.

“Dr. Selvig!”

“Director!”

“What do we know?”

Danny allowed himself to be distracted by the centerpiece of the room, a piece of machinery built around what was indeed a little cube thing. He tilted his head and approached, trying to get a better view of it around the people in lab coats and protective gear currently swarming it. He caught mention of radiation a grimaced.

It was unlikely to kill him, but, really, everyone here should probably be wearing more PPE. You never knew what was going to come out of an interdimensional portal, after all. Except trouble. Trouble was a pretty safe bet.

It was pretty. Blue. Reminded him a little of a blue raspberry ice pop. Part of him wanted to lick it. Which was stupid. He didn’t want to wind up half what-ever-lived-on-the-other-side on top of his regular ghost nonsense.

“Mr. Fenton?”

Danny jumped and turned, refocusing on the adults, who had multiplied while he’d been daydreaming. The guy with the bow had joined them.

“Mr. Fenton? Like the Doctors Fenton I spoke to earlier?” asked Selvig.

“Yeah, it’s—”

This, of course, was when everything decided to explode. Sort of.

The blue cube shot out a beam of energy that had more than a little in common with the Fenton Bazooka’s portal setting. The beam terminated on the platform, a portal rapidly forming.

Danny slid into a fighting stance, and barely even noticed as blue energy washed over the room, throwing many less-prepared people back.

Something shaped like a man stepped through the portal.

Danny did not break his stance. Still. “An alien,” he whispered, eyes wide. If they were friendly, maybe they’d answer his questions about space. If they weren’t friendly, maybe they’d answer his questions about space after Danny beat them up.

(Danny did not go ghost. Did not even think about going ghost. There were too many people here, and the space was too open.)

Fury attempted to negotiate. Danny approved. Not everything that came through an interdimensional portal was necessarily evil.

Except this guy apparently was. Go figure. He could also deflect bullets and was very good with throwing knives, which led to Danny having to pull several of the gun guys out of their own line of fire as well as the alien’s line of knife. Who would have thought an alien’s weapon of choice would be throwing knives? The energy-blasting spear was much more in line with his expectations.

The bow guy proved to be more competent than the gun guys. This didn’t really surprise Danny. Bow guy sort of had to be competent. Otherwise, no way would they let him go around with a bow. Like, seriously. A bow.

Even so, bow guy was fighting an alien and—

“You have heart,” said the alien, raising the spear.

Danny pushed bow guy out of the way, and his mind fuzzed out.

(The human part of it, anyway.)

.

Loki didn’t know what a child was doing here, and he didn’t particularly care. The boy would do for a hostage, at least. He had a mission he had to fulfil, or else…

Or else.

“Please don’t,” he said turning with a shadow of his usual lazy affect, vaguely insulted that the human thought he could be sneaker that him, “I still need that.”

The human went on and on, apparently burdened with the delusion that he was on the same level as Loki.

Loki was burdened with other things. A glorious purpose. Glad tidings. Freedom. What could be better than freedom?

“A world free from what?” asked the human.

“From freedom,” said Loki, and wasn’t that what he believed, now? Wasn’t that what he’d been shown? “Freedom is life’s great lie.” He would know. He was an excellent liar. “Once you accept that, in your heart—” He batted away an arrow and tsked. “Shield me, boy,” he demanded. Had Thanos misrepresented the scepter’s powers? Or was the boy merely—

A dome of green surrounded him and the boy, thrumming with magic the likes of which he had only seen once, in a tome thrice forbidden.

“Oh,” said Loki, almost purring. “You are interesting. What are you?”

“Half human, half ghost,” replied the boy, tersely.

Loki had never heard of such a creature. No matter. He’d be sure to make good use of him.

“Grab the scientist,” he said, nodding at the balding man who had been with his brother when he’d fought the Destroyer in the desert.

Loki wanted the archer. He seemed interesting. Useful.

.

Fenton was under thrall. Phantom knew what that felt like. A hundred feet under red water, trying not to drown, whispers everywhere. Pulling. Pushing. Prodding.

This was different, but the principle was the same.

Neither half of him could truly ‘fight’ the other. Fenton and Phantom were a single entity. Not two in lockstep. Even so.

Fenton grabbed onto Dr. Selvig, as ordered. Phantom made sure that was all they did.

“What are you doing, boy?” snapped Loki. “Follow me! Bring the scientist.”

And so, they followed.

.

Loki breathed. Acquiring Barton had been the right choice. The boy was powerful, but, perhaps because of his unique biology, did not have Barton’s presence of mind, and couldn’t have led him to such wonderful allies.

Allies.

These weren’t truly his allies. Nor were they subjects. They were…

Loki forced himself to breathe. He just had to follow the mission. Follow the mission, let Thanos’s army through. He’d been promised this world. He would have this world.

And then he could be… His mind stuttered over the next word, and he shook his head, trying to drive out the painful buzz of Thanos’s herald and mouthpiece trying to contact him.

He looked up at the drones bustling around, all according to his will. Except the boy, who stared at him, somehow managing to be both utterly blank and challenging at the same time.

He was alone, here.

He was alone.

But what did it matter? Bad men always wound up alone, and Loki… Loki could never be a good man.

#danny phantom #marvel cinematic universe #avengers #dannymay 2021 #dannymay 2021 day 28: alone #dannymay #danny phantom x marvel cinematic universe crossover #op!Danny/Marvel #Not much op!Danny yet tho

[saintorchid]

The Missing Slipper

You search your entire apartment looking for your missing slipper. Your boyfriend, Nanami Kento, decides to have a bit of fun.

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

A/N: This is my first ever fic. So please be nice but I am open to criticism. Minors DNI !!!!!!!!!!!!

I love Nanami Kento, he lives in my mind rent free. Anyways enjoy!

You search your entire apartment, trying to find you're missing slipper. You look into your bathroom. No, not there. Under your bed? Not there either. You were about to give up when you remembered that you forgot to check the living room. You walk into the living room seeing your boyfriend, Nanami Kento, reading a new book he bought at the bookstore last week. Not wanting to disturb him with your little problem, you slowly move past him. Checking the floor around you and looking under the coffee table. You were about to give up until you see a bright purple slipper under the couch across from Nanami's lounge chair. You bend over to reach for the bright purple slipper that hid under the couch.

Nanami sees you from the corner of his eye, and suddenly, the book in his hand doesn't seem that interesting anymore. He saves the page, puts his book down, and heads towards you. Your ass in full view, and you’re wearing nothing but blue lace panties and a large white shirt. You were about to reach for the slipper you lost. However, Nanami grabs your waist and placed you down on the couch with his chest pressed to your back. Shocked at the sudden action, you turn your head to face him and ask him what is wrong. Your innocent eyes drink him in. Nanami suddenly pries your legs open, and his hand reaches underneath your shirt and massages your breast. You lean into him, kissing his neck and face until you’re locking your lips with him. “His lips soft and his hands warm”, “I’m excited for what comes next~.” These thoughts race in your mind. 

His fingers slowly move to the inside of your thigh, rubbing small circles. You whimper into his mouth at the action. You tried to move your body closer to the place that desperately needed his attention. He noticed you squirming close to his fingers and gives in. He rubs your folds up and down. He reaches for your nipples, rolling and pinching them softly. He moves to the crook of your neck littering them with kisses before sucking harshly. Your mind becomes foggy at the sensation. 

He then moves your panties to the side and pushes one finger into your hole. You arch your back, and with a desperate pant, you say, "K-Kento, please, I need more". He happily obliges as he pushes another finger in. He alternates between your nipples, rolling and pinching them. You hear his breathy moans, which only turns you on more. You unconsciously squeeze his fingers and feel his member rubbing your lower back. He lets go of your breast and attacks your needy clit. Your body lights up at the sensation. You are so wet that your juices leak out on the couch. Moaning his name and whimpering only fuels him. He is on cloud 9 right now, seeing you arch your back and your face contouring. "My love, is your mind filled with me?" Nanami says in a kind tone. You turn your head to look at him. He breathes heavily, his lips swollen from making out. You answer in pants, "Yes, Yes, a thousand times Yes". You lean into his neck, moaning. He smiles. Nothing brings him more joy than seeing you drown in pleasure. Knowing that he can get you into such a needy state makes his member even harder. 

He quickens his pace, and your mind goes blank. He keeps going, fucking you with his fingers, riding out your orgasm. Your hands reach out for a pillow squeezing it until your knuckles turn white. He takes his cum coated fingers out of you. Before he can lick them clean, you grab his hand and suck his fingers, not letting a single drop of cum escape. Seeing you suck off his hard work, makes his eyes turn dark. 

He immediately flips you over now with your legs straddling his waist. You feel his member through his shorts, leaving a wet spot on them. You kiss him hard. He moans into you, allowing you to shove your tongue in his mouth. He can't take it anymore. You stop, leaving him panting, searching for your eyes. You palm him through his shorts while nibbling his ear. He rubs his hands up and down your body. You stop your ministrations, and Nanami looks at you worried with half-lidded eyes. You place your hand on the side of his cheek and say, "You are the only one I want to spend the rest of my life with. I love you, Nanami Kento". Hearing his name come out of your mouth breathlessly makes him blush hard. The tips of his ears are red, and his heart swells when he sees you smile. He removes his shorts below his hips just enough to free his member. You remove his shirt, tossing it to the side. He then removes your (his really, but he doesn't mind) shirt, quickly throwing it on the floor. You reach for your panties to pull them off of you, but Nanami quickly grabs them and rips them off of you. You look at him wide-eyed; before you can say anything, he beats you to it, "It's easier to rip them off, takes less time.” Your cheeks turn pink while Nanami smirks. 

Nanami then lifts you lining himself to your deprived hole. You slowly move down, appreciating the stretch. Nanami is in total bliss when you finally bottom out. Both of you bask in each other. You look down to see him fully inside you and look back at him. He reaches for your face and cusps it gently, telling you, "I feel completely lost without you by my side. All I want is you, you, you, just you and only you, I love you (Y/N).” You immediately hug him and  pepper his face with your kisses. His hand slowly goes back to your waist and starts moving you up and down slowly. You kiss him deeply, moaning into his mouth. Your hips meet every thrust causing you to squeeze him tightly. He thrusts himself deeper into hitting your cervix, and your body becomes electrified. 

Your hair starts to stick to your face, and a bead of sweat starts forming on Nanami's forehead. He licks your breasts attacking them with such fever that you will definitely have a couple of hickeys. Your eyes are closed, focused on how Nanami is hitting every sweet spot. He stares at you, completely under your spell. He then grabs your neck and crashes his lips against yours, both of your teeth, clattering for a split second. Your eyes fling wide open before you can speak. Nanami's lips hover over yours; his voice suddenly fills the air around you in a hushed tone. Nanami says, "Keep your eyes on me, only on me, don't you dare look away.” Surprised by his command, you obliged because you knew if you didn't follow his orders, he would deny your orgasm until you lost your voice, begging him to fuck you until you see stars. His thrusts, become harder and faster. You lost control of your voice and started screaming, letting yourself be consumed by the pleasure. 

Nanami couldn't believe that a pretty, no beautiful woman was coming undone on top of him while screaming his name. Tears started to brim at the corner of your eyes. You felt close to your climax. Nanami sensed that you were close. He stares at you and, with a breathy moan, "My love, I am so close, and I know you are too, so let's come together". You squeezed him hard, and he mentally battles with himself not to lose the rhythm he has set. He reaches for your clit and rubs it rapidly. You are a complete mess, but Nanami sees you as an angel sent from the heavens. You can feel your climax coming around the corner, so so close. Nanami is already at his limit. The sounds of your sex, your moans, your breasts covered in hickeys, and your thighs squeezing his waist are making him go crazy. 

"My Love, I am going to countdown from 10, and at the end, we will come together.” You nod your head rapidly, thankful that the both of you will reach nirvana together. “10,” Drool starts to escape from your mouth while kissing Nanami. “9,” Nanami's hand leaves your clit to roll your nipple. “8,” The sensation of everything happening to you is surreal. “7,” You start to whisper "Kento" like a prayer. “6,” Nanami focuses on your other nipple giving it the same attention. “5,” The pit in your lower stomach becomes almost unbearable. “4,” Nanami feels his balls clenching tight, he is close. “3,” The sounds of your sex becomes even louder, breaths even hotter. “2,” You feel your thighs trembling and your toes curling. “Kento, KENTO, IM SO CLOSE,” your words spill out of your mouth. 

“You are so so good to me, my love, let's come together,” and with a final whisper, Nanami says one. He attacks your clit, and you scream his name loud enough for your next-door neighbors to hear. You squeeze him so hard with the intent not to waste a single drop of his cum. His thrusts become erratic, and he pushes himself even deeper and immediately lets loose. You come hard, while Nanami spills his cum into you. It feels heavenly to have him inside you. You collapse into the crook of his neck while he does the same to you. With what's left of your voice, you tell him, "Kento, I love you so much," while breathing heavily against his neck. He immediately pulls you into a tight hug. Nanami looks at you with his face flushed, "Y/N, you are my dear, my angel, my love. I love you, Y/N, every year, every month, every week, every day, every hour, every minute, every second. I will never stop loving you." Both of you look into each other, admiring each other's bodies before ending the session with a final kiss. Nanami smiles into the kiss, which makes you giggle. 

With the help of Nanami, he gently lifts you off of him, whining about the sudden loss; he kisses your forehead. He picks you up effortlessly and heads over to your shared bathroom. You found yourself surprised that he has the strength to pick you up after a delicious fucking. He places you on the bathroom counter while he prepares a bath for both of you. You decided to play some late-night jazz music on your cd player that you kept in the bathroom. Nanami lit up some candles while the bath was filling up. He carefully placed the candles at the edge of the bathtub. You reached out for him, and he picked you up, heading towards the bathtub. He slowly placed you into the tub filled with bubbles. Relaxing in the warmth of the water, Nanami couldn't help but smile seeing you with your eyes closed in total bliss. You opened your eyes, catching Nanami staring at you. "Honey, what's wrong?" Nanami shook himself out of his daze and told you that nothing was wrong. He then proceeds to tell you that you look ethereal. Your face immediately goes red; how does this man know what to say to make you easily flustered? He laughs at your reaction, and you end up laughing with him. His laugh was the best sound in the world, you thought to yourself. "Well, are you going to join me or just stand there?" You asked with a hint of teasing. "I'm coming, I'm coming", Nanami says while walking towards you. 

He enters the bath while you lay against his chest. The music, candles, and Nanami's soft breathing places you into a state of pure euphoria. Nanami slowly starts rubbing shampoo into your scalp. After he is finishes, you do the same to him, making sure you don't miss a spot. You wish you could stay like this forever, but you don't want each other to look like a prune. After 30 minutes, both of you rinse off and get out of the bath. 

Nanami started to dry your hair with the hairdryer, while you dried him off with a towel. After drying your hair, it was Nanami's turn to dry your body, while you dried his hair with the hairdryer. The whole exchange was silent, but the two of you are on the same wavelength. After the both of you dried off, you both decided to skip putting on pj's and sleep naked. Slipping under the covers, Nanami arms wraps around your waist, he holds you close. The both of you lay in comfortable silence. Usually you would be asking Nanami about his day, but this time the silence between the two of you was sufficient conversation. Nanami broke the silence, which was rare, but you quickly turn your head to face him, letting him know that you have his full attention. He asks, "What were you looking for under the couch?” You look at him while thinking to yourself, what could you be possibly looking for under the couch? You genuinely couldn't remember. Y/N answered, "I don't know, and I'll probably remember in the morning.” Nanami looks at you intently and is satisfied with your answer. Not wanting to press further, he pulls you tighter and whispers into your ear, "I love you Y/N.” Before you can say 'I love you back’, Nanami finally succumbs to sleep. You whisper in his ear, "I love you, Kento," while closing your eyes. You thought about what you were looking for, but you were too tired to think. You finally succumb to sleep in Nanami's arms. 

Your living room is lit up by the moonlight showing Nanami's and your clothes littered across the room. A beam of moonlight lays directly on the bright purple slipper underneath the couch. 

#nanami smut #nanami kento #kento nanami #jjk nanami #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jjk fic #nanami x reader #nanami x y/n #nanami kento x reader #this man lives in my mind rent free #I love him so much #jujutsu kaisen #the missing slipper

[whosscruffylooking]

The Purest Things: Wingmen (Aaron Hotchner x Female BAU! Reader)

this is based on season 10 episode 10 “amelia porter”

Warnings: None. Pure Fluff.

A/N: I am so beyond obsessed with the mutual pining. Initially, this was going to be one part, but I have to slow burn the heck out of this, so it'll be a few parts. Enjoy!

The Purest Things Masterlist

august 2014

Bookend: "You meet thousands of people and none of them really touch you. And then you meet one person and your life is changed forever." – Love & Other Drugs

I walk into the jazz club, searching for Rossi. For the past year and a half, we have frequented this classy establishment, bonding over our shared passion for jazz and fine liquor. We come here every Friday unless the job keeps us away. It's a form of escapism that I have grown to cherish deeply. With a job like ours, finding something to look forward to each week, some semblance of a routine is crucial.

I stroll over to “our” booth, but instead of seeing David’s familiar face, it's that of the Unit Cheif. I throw my head back and laugh, “Of all the people I could have expected to see here...you were not one of them.”

Don't get me wrong; I'm not upset to find him here. I could never get enough of him. I see him nearly every day of the week, I have weekly movie nights with Jack, and Aaron and I have been to hell and back with each other over the years.

He shakes his head and smirks, “What can I say? I'm full of surprises.”

“So tell me Aaron Hotchner, to what do I owe the pleasure of your company this evening?”

“David Rossi, ” he emphasizes.

“So you’ve been recruited as one of his wingmen too huh?”

“Apparently so.”

“Well I'm glad you're here.” I slide into the booth next to him.

He glides his cup in circles along the tablecloth, “Me too.”

“May I pry?” I inquire.

He nods, “You may.”

“Why exactly are you here? Believe me, I'm thrilled you're joining us, but David and I have been coming here for over a year. Why'd he invite you now?”

His shoulders tense up, and then he inhales deeply, the tension releasing when he exhales.

“If I'm being completely honest, I think it has something to do with the fact that Beth and I are no longer together.”

“Oh my God, Hotch. I'm so sorry, I didn't know.”

Aaron looks up at me; the professional man, the profiler I'm so familiar with, is gone. Instead, he looks at me with the eyes of a vulnerable man, someone who loves so passionately and craves that same love in return. This isn't the first time he's looked at me with those eyes, and I pray that it is not the last time. If it were anyone else, the prolonged eye contact would deter me; my glance would dart in the other direction. But, for years, I have savored these intimate moments with him. I'm not exactly sure when this connection began or when it deepened to the awareness we now have of one another.

Most likely, it began shortly after Haley’s death, when I started to spend more time with Jack or those late nights working in the office with him. Maybe it was that time I brought him his favorite coffee and bagel to his house because I knew he wouldn’t feed himself otherwise.

(Aaron’s P.O.V.)

I gaze at her with utmost fascination. She is a mystery I have never been able to solve, a profile I cannot complete. She is whole, a pillar of strength for our team, her family, me, and Jack. Yet, there is a fear within her that mimics a young child scared of the monsters that are both imagined and real. She’s seen and experienced things that no one her age should have to witness. I can see through the worn expression on her face. She’s holding herself together for the sake of everyone around her, but inside she’s slowly falling apart. All I want is to help mend those crumbling pieces and hold her together. She doesn’t realize that she has been doing that very thing for me for the past four years.

In my life, I have had the opportunity to love deeply and freely. But two of those loves stand in realms of their own. The first time I fell in love, it was with an opposite. A precious, symbolic tale of love and loss.

With Beth, I did love her. She gave me the strength to feel something again after Haley died. I found the ability to move forward with hope and recognition that I deserve happiness once again.

The second great love came in the form of a mirror. We share an empathy, an understanding of the fundementals of life and love that shapes our individual values. I was far from perfect when we met; I was detached, damaged, and hopeless. I felt like I was barely a man. Truth be told, I won’t be perfect after the fact either. But, she gives me a sense of realness that I never perceived as possible. And since the day we met before I even accepted the actuality of my affections for her, I strove to better myself. Every day since, and for the rest of my life, I want to work every day to be the man she deserves and needs.

Awakening from my trance, I speak up, “I am grateful every day for the relationship I had with Beth. I truly did love her. I love her still for the person she helped me become. I realized, through her, that I can choose to move forward with my life.”

“You deserve to be happy, Aaron,” she interjects.

“Some time ago, Rossi came into my office encouraging me to start dating again. He reminded me that Haley wouldn’t want me to avoid moving on. Of course, my immediate instinct was to deny that I was guilty of just that. But he was right. He told me that I am no good to anyone when I’m miserable.”

She throws her head back and laughs, “Miserable? No, I wouldn’t call you that. Slightly uptight? Absolutely.”

I gasp, exaggerating a look of offense, “I’m hurt.”

She touches my arm, and I can feel my heart stop for a beat. Something about her touch elevated my heart and soul to another plain. It’s as if her small hand on my forearm revealed the certainty I had been searching for.

I chuckle, “Don’t worry. David and I came to the same conclusion.”

“Phew,” she breathes out a sigh of relief, “Good because I didn’t know how I was going to dig myself out of that hole....but please, continue what you were saying.”

I take a deep breath, “When you and I met I had already lost my entire world. Haley had just recently taken Jack, we were fighting constantly, and then...” I feel my eyes beginning to sting, and I realize that she hasn’t taken her grip off my arm once she squeezes it reassuringly.

“When Haley died, it felt like I was staring into an abyss. After the funeral, you found me alone, in some room that I had escaped to for some solace. But I didn’t feel any relief. And then, you came in. You sat across from me, and we just sat in silence. Somehow though, more was said in that silence than I had ever dared to utter out loud to someone. You didn’t know it then, but you saved me that day. You saved Jack too.”

I hear her short intake of breath and look over to see her lip beginning to tremble.

“Aaron...”

As much as I want to hear her melodic voice speak to me now, when I am most unarmed, a feeling that is entirely foreign to me, I have never felt so driven to yell from the top of my lungs a profession of love for this woman.

I begin to speak again, and I am immediately interrupted by Rossi, accompanied by the jazz singer hooked on his arm.

“La mia bella ragazza! Finalmente sei arrivato,” he says, kissing the top of her head. She blushes slightly, her eyes flickering to me briefly.

“You are a sight for sore eyes my dear. Is she not Aaron?”

I take a sip of my drink, glancing at y/n, her beautiful y/e/c sparkling back at me. How can anyone put into words just how beautiful she is?

I nod, “She is indeed.”

I’m suddenly made aware of the absence of her touch on my arm. How can someone’s touch both simultaneously have such a stronghold on you and also set you free? Regardless of the reason, I long to savor that feeling once again.

“Well,” she inches out of the booth, “I’m going to get a drink. Can I get you boys anything?”

We shake our heads in unison. Rossi suggests that his date join her.

He places his hand on my shoulder, “So? Any progress made?”

“I don’t want to overwhelm her. There’s so much I want to say. But I feel like I’ve put her through enough already. I’m an old man Dave. I’m a widower with a son. The damage I’d be asking her to cope with, the burden I’d be subjecting her to...”

David clears his throat and slips his phone out of his pocket. He swipes through some photos in his camera roll and lands on a photo of y/n and me. It’s from a cocktail party he hosted a few years ago. Jack, y/n, and I are sitting on the grass in Rossi’s backyard playing with dandelions. I can still hear their laughter filling the air: Jack’s squeals and y/n’s child-like giggles. We felt like a family. I would give anything to relive those moments of genuine bliss, to feel that sensation of being complete, heart, mind, and soul once more.

“Sometimes,” Rossi begins, “when people are destined to be together, their love grows over an undetermined span of time. It could be months, weeks, even years. You both may feel the shared pain of this rollercoaster called life and the hurt that comes from being separated from one another, but this helps you better grasp the priceless value and purity of the love you share. There is no easy road to love. Anyone who claims otherwise is doomed to be plagued by the mediocrity that is a false sense of security. The path you are on, Aaron is the one walked by the greatest lovers in history. In layman’s terms, don’t screw this up.”

#criminal minds #aaron hotchner x y/n #criminal minds headcanons #criminal minds angst #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner angst #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner #hotch x y/n #hotch x reader #hotch x you #spencer reid headcanon #spencer x reader #spencer reid angst #spencer reid x y/n #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner series #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotchner x reader #Aaron Hotch Hotchner #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #derek morgan

[sapphosthoughtsandwritings]

Hungry Eyes - Bucky Barnes x insecure!Reader

Warnings: insecure thoughts, slight body dysmorphia

Type: fluff, song fic

Word Count: ~2.1k

A/N: this is one of the first fanfics I’ve ever written (we don’t speak of my middle school fics I wrote), so I hope it turned out okay! I of course had to use this song for Bucky ;) I’m always open to feedback!

---

It's not just an end one

That's not the mambo

Looking in the mirror, the curves of your body were illuminated by the dress you’re wearing for another one of Tony’s parties. You were never one for parties or big gatherings, but Natasha had somehow roped you into attending this one. How? Well, she knew your biggest weakness: a certain man with a metal arm. You’d had a daydream in mind for a while: a night to dance with Bucky, slow and romantic; you were a sucker for cliche things. But why would he like someone who looks like you?

It's a feeling, a heartbeat

Ga-gonk, ga-gonk

Close your eyes, ga-gonk

Don't try so hard

You entered the limo waiting outside the tower, face starting to flush as your thoughts began to bombard you. ‘Why did I ever choose this dress in the first place? It doesn’t flatter me at all. How bad do I look? Is my makeup too much? Does my body even look okay?’ It all was becoming too much, your eyes swelled with tears, heart beating faster with your increased anxiety, but it was too late to turn back now. You’d just have to suck it up. Hopefully you could avoid seeing Bucky and just hide out in a corner, alone. You shut your eyes tightly, feeling the car stop, signifying that you had arrived, your heart now sinking to the bottom of your stomach.

I've been meaning to tell you

I've got this feelin' that won't subside

You exited the limo, silk dress falling softly at your sides, a stark contrast from your hands that rested clenched at your side. Taking a deep breath, you walked through the tall glass doors of the luxurious ballroom. The room was gorgeous, shining brightly with white marble floors, gold accents along the walls and windows, several chandeliers hanging from the obscenely tall ceiling, illuminating the room in a heavenly glow. You hoped the beauty of the room would distract your teammates from your own looks. Pushing your way through people, you glanced across the room to a large, stainglassed window, and in front of it was no other than your crush. If your cheeks weren’t red before, they sure were now. Your clenched hands now starting to sweat, heart beating even faster. ‘Gods, I hope he doesn’t see me, I hope he doesn’t come over here.’ You could handle watching him from afar, but if he came over to talk, oh you’d surely make a fool of yourself, which would only feed into your anxiety more.

I look at you and I fantasize

You're mine tonight

You meandered around for a few minutes, chatting with people here and there, occasionally peaking over at Bucky. Taking your gaze away for a few minutes, you made your way over to one of the bars, sitting down in a rather uncomfortable, backless stool, looking over the different drinks the gala was offering. Combing a hand through your hair, sighing deeply, you ordered a shot of whiskey, knowing you’d need something strong to get you through the night. Quietly thanking the bartender, you took a sip of the golden drink, feeling the sting deep in your throat. It helped ease your anxiety, but your mind never stopped imagining what it would be like to dance so close to him, to feel his warmth, a comfort you longed for so deeply.

Now, I've got you in my sights

With these hungry eyes

One look at you and I can't disguise

Bucky took another sip of his champagne, trying to look engaged in the conversation that was happening, when really, his attention was focused on you. Quick glances your way turned into minutes of staring. You completely enamored him. He thought you were beautiful in every possible way: how your eyes light up when you’re passionate, the softness of your skin, the way your voice sounded like honey, the gentle aura that always surrounded you, he could go on forever. He absolutely loved you. But how in the world was he supposed to tell you that? 

I've got hungry eyes

I feel the magic between you and I

“You know, if you don’t ask them out, I might just have to do it myself”, Natasha said, bringing Bucky out of his thoughts and back to the conversation at hand. “You wouldn’t”. “Try me”. He sighed heavily, rubbing his temple slightly, knowing Natasha was serious about her offer. Shuffling his feet a couple of times, he set his glass down on a nearby table, then made his way over to the bar you were at. He could hear his heartbeat ringing in his ears. ‘Nat’s gonna pay for this one’, he thought to himself. Watching you tilt your head back to take another shot of your whiskey, his mouth became dry. How was it that you made just drinking look so beautiful? “Hey doll, mind if I join you?” Your heart skipped a beat and you jumped slightly. Looking up at him, you were lost for words, feeling your body heat increase immensely. “Oh, uh sure!”, you gave him a soft smile. He returned it, sitting in the barstool right next to you, allowing you to breathe in his cologne. 

I want to hold you so hear me out

I want to show you what love's all about

Darling tonight

There was a moment of silence between the two of you, not wildly uncomfortable, but the nervous tension was palpable. You finally got the courage to turn your head slightly and get a better look at him. And oh lord, did he look a hell of a lot better up close. Long hair slicked back, a dark, almost black, red suit, with a lighter red tie to match. The suit must have been tailored to him, it fit his muscles too well to not be. Bucky caught your gaze, and you quickly looked back down at your drink, hoping he didn’t notice. As the next song started playing, the atmosphere in the room changed, and Bucky let out a soft gasp. You glanced at him again, his face now lit up with joy. “What is it?”, you quizzed. “This was a popular jazz song in the 40s, one of my favorites actually”, he smiled happily, turning his full attention to you, cheeks lightly dusted pink. “You think I could have this dance, doll?”, he asked, hand outstretched to you.

Now, I've got you in my sights

With these hungry eyes

One look at you and I can't disguise

You swore your heart stopped beating. He wanted to dance, with you? It was almost too good to be true. But Bucky wasn’t the type to joke about these things. You couldn’t help the wide grin that spread across your face, as you gently placed your hand atop his much bigger one. “Of course you can”. He bit his lip slightly, wrapping his hand around yours, leading you to the middle of the dance floor. His metal arm dipped to wrap around your waist, bringing you closer to him. Having a soft grasp on his bicep, you let him lead, as you both started swaying to the song. 

I've got hungry eyes

I feel the magic between you and I

I've got hungry eyes

“You know, you look gorgeous tonight sugar”. Lifting your gaze up to meet his, he looked at you with a certain glimmer in his eyes. Sucking a breath in, your grip on his bicep tightened a little. “You really think so?”, your voice was quiet, somewhat doubting what you just heard. His face crinkled a little, looking at you with a bit of disbelief. “Of course I do. I don’t think my eyes would lie to me sweetheart”. You were sure your face was as red as his suit now. “Thank you, you look pretty good yourself”. He chuckled lightly, intertwining his flesh hand with yours. “Well thank you, doll”. 

Now I've got you in my sights

With those hungry eyes

Now, did I take you by surprise?

Without thinking too much, you placed your head on his chest, sighing contentedly. This was perfect, a scene straight from your dreams, you could live in this moment forever. Bucky pulled you in closer, if that was even possible, rubbing his thumb across the back of your hand. He kissed the top of your head, as the world around you faded away, it was just you and him. You heard him breathe deeply, as he dipped his head down closer to your ear. “Would you believe it if I told you that I’d had this exact moment in my dreams so many times?”. You licked your now chapped lips, gazing up at him. “I would, cause I’ve dreamt of this so many times too”. You saw him smile, as both of you stopped dancing momentarily.

I need you to see

This love was meant to be

The world seemed to slow around you two, his flesh hand travelling up your arm, finding its place under your chin, tipping your face upwards. Your breath caught in your throat, your now free hand gently grasping the overcoat of his suit. His tongue traced his bottom lip, icy blue eyes boring into your own, his thumb tracing just below your lip. “Can I kiss you, Y/N?”. You swallowed thickly, your head feeling hazy, you nodded. “Yes, yes you can”. Within an instant, he closed the gap between the two of you, rough lips melding against your own. Your right hand went from his bicep up to the back of his neck, while your left pulled him closer by the jacket. Turning your head slightly, you deepened the kiss, feeling his metal hand tighten its grip on your hip.

 I've got hungry eyes

One look at you and I can't disguise

I've got hungry eyes

You both continued kissing, slow and gentle, until someone nearby cleared their throat. You pulled away reluctantly, finding Tony being the culprit of ruining the moment. “If you lovebirds keep making out, can you at least not do it in the middle of the ballroom? Get a room at least”, he raised an eyebrow, looking amused with himself. Bucky sent him a glare, letting out a frustrated huff. You giggled at his frustration, grabbing his right hand. “C’mon Buck, I’m sure there’s a balcony or somethin’ more private in this place”, you said, dragging him towards the edge of the ballroom. His features changed quickly, mesmerized by your form as he followed behind you.

I feel the magic between you and I

I've got hungry eyes

Walking around with him, you found a hallway leading away from the party, and at the end of it, surely enough was a pair of French glass doors leading to a balcony. Bucky picked up his pace, skipping a bit so he could open the door for you. “After you, sweetheart”. You giggled, feeling your face flush for probably the hundredth time of the night. “And they say chivalry is dead”. He smiled proudly, following after you into the clear night air. You walked to the railing, elbows resting on the cool metal. Looking up at the star lit sky, you breathed in deeply, feeling yourself relaxing in the comfort of finally being alone with Bucky. He circled around to your left side, leaning on his side against the railing to look at you. “It’s beautiful out tonight, isn’t it?”, you said quietly, eyes twinkling in the moonlight. Bucky hadn’t stopped looking at your face, chin resting on his hand, giving you the sweetest heart eyes ever. “Not as beautiful as you”.

Now I've got you in my sights

With the hungry eyes

But did I take you by surprise?

You rolled your eyes at his cheesy remark, but you couldn’t shake the smile that remained on your face. Turning to face him, you placed your hands on his chest, looking up into his eyes. “So, does this mean we’re, like, a thing now?”, you asked, feeling the nerves in your stomach return. He wrapped his arms around you, brushing some of your hair behind your ear, his touch lingering on your face. “I sure hope so doll”. Leaning down, one hand in your hair, the other around your lower back, he swooped you into another kiss, this one more passionate than the first. Your arms wrapped around his neck, smiling into the kiss, feeling your worries transform into butterflies fluttering throughout your body. God, you could definitely get used to this.

With my hungry eyes

I'm dizzy, hungry eyes

Now, I've got you in my sights

With my hungry eyes

#bucky barnes #bucky imagine #Winter Soldier #bucky barnes x you #bucky x you #marvel x y/n #marvel x you #avengers #avengers x y/n #avengers x you #fanfic #song fic #hungry eyes #Sebastian Stan #fluff #marvel imagine #avengers imagine #mcu #imagines #the avengers #insecure reader #tony stark #natasha romanoff #gender neutral fanfic #gender neutral reader

[shanghai-lu]

Late Night Strolls ~ Jung Jaehyun

For:  정재현 - NCT

Type: Drabble / Scenario 

Mood: Fluff / Wholesome

Word count: 1505

[ I rewrote the original one as I wasn’t completely happy with it, and I opted to try something different and push myself with the redone one ~ (●^◡^●) ]

During your holiday to Italy together, summer had been in full swing, making the hot days nearly unbearable outside, so you and Jaehyun decided a late-night walk sounded like exactly what you needed.

He held your hand as the two of you walked lazily down the cobblestone streets. The cool breeze ruffling through the leaves of the trees lining the sidewalks, and playing gently with your hair, goosebumps appearing on your arms, but you don’t mind it.

A few people pass you - couples, families, and groups of friends - all making the most of the beautiful evening, cast in a warm orange glow from the streetlights. The moon sat high, stars twinkling brightly as the neighbourhood, with its quaint restaurants and buskers filling the air with the smell of wine and the sound of laughter and chatter, took its time going to bed. 

Soft jazz played from a balcony a few buildings away. Jaehyun hummed along, now swaying your entwined hands slowly back and forth as you continue your stroll. You walk through the neighbourhood for a long while, away from the crowds and restaurants and into the quieter streets of the antique, picturesque district.

“Wait.” he stopped suddenly, looking around him puzzled. 

“I think we took a weird turn somewhere...” he trailed off, turning to look at the buildings and streets behind him, then ahead of you two, still holding your hand. 

He was right. You had been so busy enjoying the cool evening that you didn’t focus on your last couple of turns. This part of the neighbourhood, if you were lucky enough to still be in the same neighbourhood, was sparsely lit, empty, just the moonlight bouncing off the windows of the old stone buildings. 

“And we left our phones on charge back at the guesthouse...”, you add with a slight whine, frustrated at yourselves, and now also attempting to analyse the buildings around you for any sign of familiarity. “Should we try and trace back?” 

He takes a moment to think about it, subconsciously tightening his hold on your hand. “I-I think so. Yeah. Let's try that. I think we took 2 lefts and a right... no wait… 2 lefts and 2 rights…wait no one left...one right?...right?...” He bit his bottom lip, frowning, a lost look in his eyes, as he tries to remember. 

You knew it was a serious situation, lost in an unfamiliar city at well past midnight, but a part of you couldn’t help but just be happy to be with him like this. Just the two of you, exploring and adventuring together, seeing each other in a different context outside your normal daily routine.

“Don’t worry, let’s just turn back and take it one turn at a time, okay?”, you smile calmly in an attempt to keep your own growing panic and nerves hidden and start walking in the direction from which you came, lightly tugging on him to follow. He smiles weakly, clearly a bit panicked as well, and so pulls you in closer to him, steps in sync.

After a few corners, you think you know where to go next as you step to take the turn to one direction, but Jaehyun steps to take the other.

"This way."

"No, it’s this way."

"It’s this way. I feel it."

"You feel it?"

He nods and tries to pull you to follow him. But you stand firm, sure it was the other way. You don't recognise any of the buildings or objects in that direction.

"Jae, I really think it's this way. Look, I don't remember seeing those benches lined like that. We would've had to walk past them. I would've remembered having to get out of their way."

He sighs, scrutinising both directions again. He remembered benches. You didn't.

After looking at both roads repeatedly, you also start to question if you didn’t remember any benches. Truthfully, you weren’t all that focused on your surroundings before. You could easily have been oblivious to any obstacles.

You sigh, lifting your hand up in defeat muttering “Okay, okay you win, you win but you better be right.”

Jaehyun smiles, turning you to face him completely, stepping closer and wrapping his arm around your waist. He leaned down to give a quick kiss on your cheek.

“And what if I’m wrong, mhh? You going to punish me?” he teases playfully, holding you even closer. You turn your head in an attempt to hide your efforts to supress a grin and pray he can’t feel your racing heart. “Mmh? Mh? Mh?” he repeats teasingly, leaning in closer to your lips each time. Still with your face turned to the side, you feel yourself about to give in to him completely, as you usually do. When he gets into these playful moods, you always find yourself feeling nervous, overthinking how to keep up with his games and teasing, never knowing what the right way to respond would be.

“No kisses.” You blurt out, just as his lips are about to graze yours. He pulls back, slightly confused.

“No kisses?”

“Yeah, if you’re wrong then no kisses.” You slowly turn to face him with a small smirk. A spark of unfamiliar confidence mixed with competitiveness rests in your chest. Jaehyun was clearly rubbing off on you.

“For how long?” he asks cautiously.

“Mmhh….” You feign having to contemplate. “As long as it takes for us to get back home.”

He catches on that you’re trying your hand at toying with him and it causes a massive grin on his handsome face. He looks off to the side, trying to reel in his thoughts and hide the effect its had on him, and you are fully aware. You rarely tease, or take the lead, never having the assurance to do so, usually just going along with everything. But there’s something about the atmosphere of the evening, the uncertain circumstances giving you a dose of adrenaline.

“Actually, make hugs and any form of physical affection off limits too.” You taunt as you pull out of his embrace and your hand out of his grip on it, backing away from him. He laughs, shaking his head before reaching out a hand for you but you dodge him by taking quick steps backwards. A playful, competitive glint shimmers in his brown eyes. He strides towards you with determination, but you turn around and start running down the dimly lit cobblestone street, giggling but trying not to make too much noise to not wake the residents.

The scene plays out in slow motion in your mind. You look back and find him laughing while chasing you, hot on your heels. You sprint forward, but there is no chance that you could ever outrun him, but you’re going to make him work for it a little.

You run as fast as you can down to the end of the long street, wind whipping around you, through your hair, your side stinging, but just as you're about to turn a corner you’re yanked back by an arm wrapped around your middle, pulling your back into a hard chest, lifting you slightly off the ground with the motion. You can hear his heavy breathing behind your ear and feel his heart racing just like yours. You tilt your head back to rest it against him, closing your eyes and focusing on calming the burn in your lungs. The run had warmed you up, the cold breeze now fresh relief against your flushed face. He kisses you on your jaw repeatedly.

“So mean.” He mutters with a smile. “And surprisingly fast.”

You scoff lightly. His innocent kisses trail down, wet, soft, to your naked shoulder, and you hum happily.

Hands back to being entangled, the two of you continue your stroll. At another crossroads, you remembered square windows, while he remembered rounder ones. This time he’s the one to give in.

After every disagreement about which way to go, the loser would get a soft, warm kiss, either on the forehead, or cheek, nose, or lips as a sort of compensation.

As much as you liked getting kissed at nearly every corner, you tried, really tried, to find your way back to the guesthouse but in the end a friendly local, just arriving home themselves, had to give you directions, albeit it took a few minutes through all the broken English and very broken Italian. And to be fair, you took quite a few wrong turns in your absent-minded wandering and playful, light-hearted bickering about which way was home, and ended up on nearly the opposite side of the neighbourhood.

With a clear path in mind of how to get home, you both calm down, the nerves of feeling lost completely gone, and the calmness of the night settling in again. Still holding your hand lovingly, rubbing small circles on the back with his thumb, he leans down to whisper with a happy smirk "We should get lost together more often."

Xx

I have never been to Italy, and so have very limited knowledge of the architecture, weather and landscape of the cities and villages there, so please excuse any inaccuracies on that part. (´∩｡• ᵕ •｡∩`)

If I made a few errors with grammar or spelling, feel free to correct me~ Also, if you need credit for the photos used please let me know :)

Hope you have a lovely day!

- Lu ฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅ

#jaehyun #jaehyun scenarios #jaehyun imagine #jaehyun reaction #jaehyun fanfiction #jaehyun fluff #jaehyun drabbles #jaehyun drabble #jaehyun imagines #nct reactions #NCT #nct scenarios #nct jaehyun #nct fanfic #nct drabbles #NCT 127 #nct u #wholesome nct #wholesome jaehyun #soft nct #soft jaehyun #jaehyun masterlist #nct masterlist

[shemakesmusic-uk]

This segment features artists who have submitted their tracks/videos to She Makes Music. If you would like to be featured here then please send an e-mail to [email protected]. We look forward to hearing from you!

Bayleigh Cheek

Dallas native Bayleigh Cheek began her love affair with music at an early age thanks to her immersive upbringing. Both parents were in the music scene, exposing her to a variety of sounds ranging from psychedelic and folk to progressive rock and new wave. Some of her personal music influences include Patti Smith, P.J. Harvey, Radiohead, and Angel Olsen. Those influences led to the creation of her EP, Immortals, that was self-released in early 2020 which brought her DOMA nominations for Best New Artist and Best EP. Her latest single is ‘Release Me’. "This song is about what it means to realize you've believed a lie, or false identity of yourself, and the process of becoming free from it and knowing the truth,” explains Bayleigh. “Growing up listening to a range of genres, from psychedelic and folk to progressive rock and new wave, ‘Release Me’ opened my eyes to the world of synths and everything electronics can provide to create a whole new universe of sound. Taking something seemingly fun and cheerful on the outside, and revealing something deeper on the inside. Before I started writing my upcoming debut album, I decided to be more vulnerable, honest and raw. I've hidden behind surrealism, which is still a big part of my art and always will be, but in light of the pandemic, I felt I needed to really let myself be open and not hide anymore. I'm becoming the person I've always wanted to become, and art will always be there as gentle reminders." Listen below.

Bayleigh Cheek · Release Me

Cozy Slippers

Cozy Slippers have released their first new music since 2019’s single ‘A Million Pieces’ b/w ‘Will You Disappear?’ (Kleine Untergrund Schallplatten) and the band’s tour of the United Kingdom. Like everyone else, the Seattle indie band had to adapt to the challenges of 2020 and beyond. ‘When Will When Come?’ is the first release to come from a year’s worth of home recordings done by the band. “We started from scratch. We didn’t have any gear and hadn’t really thought about recording ourselves before. It was so great to escape the stressful outside world for a while by recording and meeting on Zoom to put it all together,” explains vocalist and bassist Sarah Engel. While the band couldn’t be in the same room at the same time, they made use of samples from their prior recordings in order to stamp their sound and personality on the song. “We did whatever we could to get this thing recorded. Some of the vocals I recorded into my phone while sitting alone in my car or late at night when everybody else was asleep. It was a challenge to find space to be creative and alone time to make the recording happen during the past year,” remembers drummer and vocalist Barbara Barrilleaux. The track was mixed by Dylan Wall (Versing, Great Grandpa, and High Sunn).  Lyrically, ‘When Will When Come?’ is a plea from one person to another to embrace life’s messy possibilities -- to live before it is too late. Instead of participating in their own life, the subject of the song stares out a window and fantasizes about pink flamingos.  “I remember the first time I heard Sarah singing the lyrics. I thought the idea of somebody daydreaming about traveling to see flamingos was weirdly sad. Flamingos look cool, but the world has a lot of other things I’d want to see before a bunch of birds. It seemed poignant to have such a relatively small wish and still be unwilling to make it reality,” recalls guitarist Steven Skelton. Listen below.

Cozy Slippers · When Will When Come?

Everstill

New York-based alternative rock band Everstill have released ‘In Your Dreams,’ their first single off their debut album, Longing. Singer-songwriter and multi-instrumentalist Sara Aridi (vocals, bass, guitars, keys) weaves her melodic guitars and haunting vocal harmonies with percussionist Luca Bertaglia’s pulsating drums to evoke sounds that are at once melancholic and euphoric. The group draws from disparate influences and genres including grunge, indie rock, jazz, metal, folk and more. ‘In Your Dreams,’ recalls artists like Warpaint, Wolf Alice and Chelsea Wolfe. Aridi wrote the song — something of a seductive plea to an unknowing crush — in 2015. A year later she met Bertaglia while playing in an alt-prog band, and the pair reconnected in early 2020 to bring her songs to life. They found themselves working on their debut album during the pandemic. Listen to ‘In Your Dreams’ below.

Everstill · In Your Dreams

No Lore

No Lore is unlike any other indie alt-pop duo. It all started when Manila-based visual artist Tita Halaman decided to make music out of her paintings and poetry with her brother Jerald. As an artist, she wants to elevate her audience’s experience by expounding the message of her paintings through the art of words and sound. No Lore’s goal is to continuously release a new song with a painting every month and to publish a book out of it. The band name No Lore comes from the concept of having no formal studies in visual art, music, and poetry. Both Tita Halaman and Jerald are self-taught and everything is D.I.Y. from ideation to audio and video production. New single ‘With Little Light’ is “a song about courage,” explains Tita. “I believe there is no such thing as complete darkness to a soul that thrives to seek for “light” everywhere. With all that’s happening these days, I hope that we can still see hope no matter how little it may seem. Hope prevails if we believe. I’m a visual artist here in the Philippines and my signature style is writing poems at the back of my paintings,” she continues of her creative process. “On top of that, me and my brother Jerald are also into music - we’ve been playing together and learning different instruments since we were kids. No Lore is our attempt to create a layered expression of our emotions. I’d say our songs are my art and poetry, but in sonic form. Every song is inspired by a specific painting of mine and the latter serves as the former’s cover art.” Listen to ‘With Little Light’ below.

Another Nguyen

Ngoc-Anh is a Vietnamese German independent artist from Berlin performing under the name Another Nguyen. She has just released her new single ‘My Friend’ which was entirely written, produced, mixed and mastered by women. She says of the song: “I wrote this song after a friend of mine opened up to me that her long-term partner was physically abusive towards her. Hearing her story was shocking because I had always perceived them as a very happy couple. With this song I want to tell my friend and anyone who has experienced intimate partner violence that "I see you" and "You are not alone". Listen below.

ANOTHER NGUYEN · My Friend

Noni A.

‘20s’ is the new single from the Berlin-based artist Noni A. Written in her bedroom and turned into a chill pop production by her brother, ‘20s’ talks about the aspects in your twenties that happen in the background but are not often addressed. 21-year-old singer-songwriter Noni A was born and raised in Prague in a German-Greek household. In 2020 Noni A. released her debut single ‘Losing Game’, an acoustic pop ballad. Currently based in Berlin, Noni dives into a different sonic direction in her new music. Inspired by the sound of Jeremy Zucker, Audrey Mika and Quinn XCII, Noni A. blends emotionally honest and unreserved lyrics with a clean and minimalist chill pop production. With her new single ‘20s’, Noni A. takes a new sonic direction. '20s' dives into the chill pop scene, including lo-fi elements, more samples, underlined by a strong beat. "I walked into my kitchen one evening and had absolutely no motivation to clean it,” says Noni A. “Apparently when you’re 20 that becomes a regular activity (cheers to my mom for letting me live blissfully unaware of this and cleaning up my stuff too). This realisation of my day-to-day life as a 20-something-year-old turned into the inspiration of '20s'. This song talks about all those things that everyone experiences in their twenties that happen in the background of our lives: moving out of your hometown, adjusting to life on your own, procrastinating (if you say you don't procrastinate, stop lying) and learning how to use your washing machine (in my opinion a straight-up mystery)." Listen below.

Noni A. · NONI A - 20s

Chrissie Huntley

One of Bristol’s most promising new artists, Chrissie Huntley has released her brand new single, ‘Supposed to Be’. Huntley decided to use the time granted by national lockdowns to her advantage. Collaborating with musicians across the globe and transforming her closet into a home studio, Chrissie has spent the past year equipping herself with a brand new body of work to return to the stage with later in 2021. ‘Supposed to Be’ is the first of a series of single releases set for release this year, and is one that the Brit School graduate holds close to her heart: “‘Supposed to Be’ is one of the first songs I ever wrote when I was a teenager and I just got dumped by the guy who I thought was supposed to be “the one”. I think we’ve all been in that position where you know that it’s over, but you just want to hold on and pretend just a little while longer…” Recorded in Bristol with upcoming songwriter and producer Laurence Fazakerley Buglass, the track demonstrates why Chrissie’s effortless vocals have had such an effect on her audience to date. Working with rising producers Jon Will, Gabriel Gifford (Harvey Causon, Maya Law, Lucy Lu) and Peter Beckmann (Gregory Porter, Laura Mvula, Marie Dahlstrom) to bring the song to life; ‘Supposed to Be’ is the perfect balance of collective ingenuity, creativity and talent...  mixed with the exposed, emotional honesty that comes with having your heart broken. “... It’s a very vulnerable track I suppose. It was very raw at the time of writing and I never had any intention of releasing it- it was more like a therapy to me than anything else. But, seven years later and here we are! Releasing this as an introduction to my new sound seemed like the perfect fit, as it holds the part of me that first turned to music at a time where I was struggling, which went on to become the entire premise of my musical journey..." Listen below.

Karen Harding

Weaving enchanting melodies straight from the heart, Karen Harding crafts, intimate heartfelt tracks that help us become ones with ourselves. The kind of one-to-one soul conversations that dig deep into our hearts and wake emotions once thought long gone. She specializes in helping people shed away their insecurities and finally feel again in a special moment of true authenticity. Drawing from a lifetime of experience, the Melbourne-based singer crafts bittersweet melodies that move and inspire. She gorgeously crafts an entire experience with every timeless track she creates. The emerging singer has just  released her debut track ‘I Didn’t Realise’. The heartbreak ballad talks on the struggle of an earth shatteringly painful breakup in a way so intimate it feels like we’re right there with her. It’s a reflective song that navigates us through every raw emotion during the healing process; from processing the pain to finally coming to terms with what’s happened. Truly a breath-taking journey that will leave you with a deep sense of wonder. The song was passionately penned in the peak of Covid-19 on a piano she played growing up. Like much of her music it came to her very organically. She had the chords already laid out and the words just flowed out of her soul naturally. It wasn’t created with the intention of being turned into a record. Rather it was a simple moment of self-expression based on the way she currently felt. The result is something deeply authentic that’s oozing in originality. She worked with acclaimed producer Josh Hennessy of Pivotal Music to bring the project to life. He helped add the magic to this simplistic yet innovative piano and vocal track. Listen below.

KarenHarding · I Didn't Realise

#submission saturday #bayleigh cheek #cozy slippers #everstill #no lore #another nguyen #noni a. #chrissie huntley #karen harding

[aradias-crypt]

Sinful Symphonies

“This song again?” You rub your temples, your eye twitching as the sound of heavy metal drones on in your head. It overwhelms the sound of your own music. Setting down your palette, you drop your paintbrush into a jar of solvent before marching to your radio resting on the windowsill of your room.

Lowering the volume, you wait for the music on your other’s “side” to soften. You honestly pity their eardrums if they listen to music this loudly.

Soon, the music stops altogether.

Good.

You crank up your own music to full blast. A smug smile tugs at your lips.

“Hope you like jazz, jerk face.”

Ever since the day you were born, music seemed to stream constantly to you from your other half’s side. Whether it was night or day, music played ceaselessly. When you were young, you’d make a game of playing your favorite records to try and share your tastes with your soulmate, hoping they’d eventually show an interest in the same music.

Their music didn’t change exactly, mostly sticking to classics and rock, but on nights when your room grew uncomfortably quiet, soft music would play and lull you to sleep.

Childhood was fun, full of guessing games and the like, but the tune changed when you reached your teens. As supers made more and more appearances in your life, the music grew darker and twisted, as if the person on the other side was directly affected in some way.

Soon, your game of appeasing your other evolved into a game of bothering them as they did you. Some days you won, some you lost. You blasted ballads and pop songs while they flooded you with death metal and songs you couldn’t decipher. You won the mornings while they won the nights. Mostly when you were preparing to sleep.

At the very least, they didn’t often get hurt. That, you were grateful for. Pain is also shared between soulmates, though the physical wound of the other is only momentary for the partner.

“Still, you have a wicked sense of humor, love.” You sigh, rubbing your eyes as the memory of flesh falling from your face comes to mind. There’s been plenty of times where your body ached from phantom shifting, but the physical wounds always hurt the most. “Making me worry about you when you put yourself in situations like that.”

Perhaps they're a hero or a villain. Its entirely possible. Supers put themselves in harms way all the time. Maybe it wasn’t recklessness but the goodness of their hearts that drove them into danger.

...or they were just a prankster

Either way, they were getting drop kicked to the heavens when you found them.

“Now that I think of it, they have to be pretty old if they’ve been at this since I was born.” You muse to yourself, brushing your hair back as you pick up where you left off on the canvas covered in oil paint before you.

“Maybe I’ll paint you one day.”

——

“Starting off with Dean Martin I see” you adjust the strap of your supply bag to rest more comfortably across your chest. The smooth crooning of the late singer invades your thoughts; its a nice change of pace. “You must be having a good day huh?” Exiting your car, you hum along to the song as you open the trunk of your car to take out your painting.

For your college class, you decide to bring in your painting of the final battle between the Headless Rider and Bright Knight; a super-villain and superhero who later disappeared from the public’s eye. You were pretty damn proud of the piece, seeing how it had taken you weeks to finish.

Entering the liberal and performing arts center, you head for the elevators. On the way you pass by several.. odd looking individuals. They were robots. However, living in a world full of supers means not much phases you anymore.

Shrugging, you continue your journey and makes your way up to the 11th floor. Passing by Mara, one of your classmates, the two of you start up a conversation about the sudden appearance of the Four Horsemen. Mercenaries that arrived from Calamni {a country far to the south}, the Horsemen brought with them a new wave of terror; ranging from riots to bio weapons. They didn't act on their own but would do nearly anything for the right price.

“I’m afraid to go outside at night.. I hear Pestilence is preparing something real nasty. They say she’s the one behind the break in at the CDC.” Mara says, her skin turning ashen at the thought of the pale rider.

”Are you up to date on all your shots?” You respond jokingly, smiling down at the shorter girl.

Mara whines and clutches her sculpture to her chest,”Its not funny, I get sick super easily. And what if my soulmate is in the area of the attack? I don’t want to lose them before I even meet them!”

“I’m sure you and your soulmate will be just fine” You reassuringly state,”Just drink a lot of orange juice and take your vitamins.” You wink playfully.

Your classmate frowns. ”What about you, aren’t you worried about your soulmate?”

“They’ve gone through worse than a little cold. I think they’ll be just fine” They didn’t seem to feel worried, if the transitioning sound to Frank Sinatra was any indication of their mood.

Diverting from your original discussion, you both prepare yourselves for the upcoming critiques.

However, before you can step through the doors to class, a rattling boom shakes you both to the core. You drop to the ground and assess the environment around you.

The floor titters and jolts.

Never a good sign.

“Oh gods please-!” Mara shouts as the ceiling begins to crack and bend.

‘Time to go.’ You think.

Jumping to your feet you yank Mara up, leaving behind your painting as you run to the emergency stairs,”Lets get out of here!”

Mara clutches your sleeve as people fleeing from classrooms bump and push against her. Many head towards the closest stairway while others rush towards the windows in hopes of flagging down help from the outside.

“What if the stairs are blocked!” Mara screams over the sound of mayhem.

You yank open the door and begin your descent,”We’ll burn that bridge when we get there!”

———————————

True to Maras fear, the stairway was blocked in by bent beams and debris.

Still, music comes from your other.

Such lovely music in such a shitty time.

Mara backs away and begins tangling her fingers in her hair,”We have to call the police!”

You mumble,”They won’t get here in time, the building will collapse by then.” Peeking under a leaning beam, you spot a ray of light. A small whistle can be heard from the other side as well.

Wind?

“I think the explosion must’ve caused the rubble to break the wall on the other side.” You back up slightly, flinching as the foundations above you begin to groan.

“We aren’t strong enough to get through, and we’re still on the 7th floor! There’s no way we would survive that fall!”

“Actually..” You whisper nervously,”I am strong enough..”

With a flick of your wrists, gauntlets form around your hands and down to your elbows; encasing them in polished metal.

“H..how-“ Mara sputters, instantly recognizing the emblem on the back of your hands. She presses herself against the wall, glancing at the stairs behind her.

“You’re a Horseman” she squeaks,”the same family as-“

You raise your hands in defense,”Same as the Headless Rider and the Four. Yes, but I promise I mean you no harm.”

Mara laughs incredulously,”You’re trying to make us jump 7 stories, what do you by mean ‘you no harm’?! How do I know that your clan isn’t the one behind this attack?!”

“They may be infuriating but my siblings would never kill me off like this, trust me, we pinky swore as kids. Now, I know this is weird but it’s either jumping or getting crushed to death.” You intercede before she can interrupt,”And I don’t think either of our soulmates would like that very much.”

Gulping down several deep breaths Mara looks past you to the rubble blocking the wall.

”..You can’t just clear the rest of the stairs..?”

“I’m fast but not that fast” The rumbling grows deafening. Even from here, the sounds of screaming can be heard from upstairs. But it too is silenced by the destruction.

You growl,”Choose now Mara!”

“Okay!” Mara whimpers,”Okay! Please, get us out of here.”

Pivoting on your heel, you strike the rubble with gauntlets glowing like a steel forge. Instantly, the cement gives way, turning to dust and leaving only beams that are easily pushed away. Making a clear path to the opening in the wall, you break the edges of the wall to widen the hole further.

As expected, wind whips your face as you loom over the opening. Squinting against the biting breeze, you spot the cause of the explosion at the base of the building.

The robots from before are lugging out bag after bag of artifacts and large containment tubes of delicate articles and manuscripts. Smaller bots stand at the ground level of your current building with armfuls of explosives.

For a moment, you question why they would target your building when it holds nothing of importance. But then you remember the security office on the first floor that has direct phone access to the League of Heroes.

And the other building..

“They were after the restoration sector.” You mutter under your breath,”All this destruction for some silly papers..” Backing up from the opening, you summon the rest of your signature armor to shield your body. Your clan would definitely scold you for revealing herself to a civilian, but you would get even worse if you revealed yourself to the whole school.

“I’m going to jump. Whatever you do, don’t squirm, okay?” Lifting Mara into your arms, you brace yourself to jump.

You weren’t afraid of heights after your training with your siblings, but that didn’t make you fond of the idea of falling.

Mara covers her face with one hand while latching the other around your neck,”Please don’t drop me.”

You walk up the hole,”I don’t know, that sounds pretty tempting.”

“You better not-“ Mara is cut off as you both go plummeting down, her words die in her throat as she screams in terror at the sudden free fall.

On the other hand, you take this moment to look for any sign of the lead villain. Usually when robots are involved, the brains behind the operation is nearby to ensure their plan goes smoothly. But all you could see was a flash of green scaling the second building and what must’ve been a science major panicking below it as you fell.

Poor guy looked like he was losing his shit. You chuckle under your helmet.

Nearing impact, you adjust your grip on Mara to aim your right fist at the ground.

War was the brawler in the family, but that didn’t mean you didn’t pack a punch.

Releasing a wave of violet energy, the force exerted slows the fall just enough to allow you to land with minor injuries. Left with a light sprain and a crick in the neck from Maras grip, you hide behind a bush near the back of the art department.

Mara reluctantly opens her eyes, sighing with relief at the sight of safe and sturdy ground. Looking up at you, she smiles sheepishly,”Thank you ..for helping me.”

You smile under the helmet, the slits for eyes emitting a soft lavender glow.

“You’re welcome. But know that if you tell anyone my secret I will have to kill you.”

“Duly noted.” Mara laughs with a twinge of nerves.

Setting her down gently, you wait for her to regain her balance before pointing to the robots,”I’ll handle them, you get out of here and make sure the school contacts the LoH.”

Mara nods, running to the main campus.

Left alone, you crack your knuckles as you approach the restoration building.

‘I don’t want to set the world on fire’ plays on in your head, a silent requiem for the collapsing building behind you.

Debris passes by you as the floors finally cave in.

Your soulmate gave you numerous injuries.

They could handle yours.

———————

Flug had many fears, mostly two-

“WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE! LOOK AT ME NERD!”

Three. Three fears.

The first being Black Hat, who just recently took Flug on as his chief scientist. He would have been overjoyed were it not for his new masters record with past employees.

Dead, dead, double dead, mutilated horribly, missing, eaten, exsanguinated, excravated, eviscerated, and so on.

No one ever just “quit”. Unless they “quit life” but that decision seemed to be Black Hat’s instead of theirs.

His second fear was still Black Hat, but it mostly was towards the idea of failing him and turning out like the people before him. Flug was durable due to experiments he tested on himself and maybe even some of his heritage.. but he was surely not durable enough to face the incarnation of evil himself and get away unscathed.

His third fear was the woman above him currently frightening the people stuck inside the building she was climbing.

She was his creation, in a way, mixing lizard DNA with a normal human to test hybridization and its affects on the human psyche. While it did give the subject an immunity to most poisons, heightened strength and the ability to climb walls-among other things- her mindset was changed drastically.

He’d have to remember to ask Black Hat just what lizard he gave him for the experiment.

“Hey doc, what are we gonna do with these guys!” Dememcia waves excitedly to the people inside, grinning at the fear in their eyes.

Flug adjusts his goggles,”Leave them I guess? We just need a few more documents and we’ll be done here.” Why a lower class villain would want these papers were beyond him. Based on his research and examinations of security footage, they weren’t very important at all. Maybe this villain just had an odd hobby.

Unlatching herself from the building, Demencia rolls to the ground, landing perfectly on her feet.. Stretching her arms over her head, she counts the hatbots retreating from the structure.

“1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7- hey!” A blast singes the top of her head, burning her hoodie.

Flug turns around and cocks the blaster in his hand,”Who’s there!”

You approach them silently with your gauntlet pointed to Demencia. Activating your vocal distortion box you hiss,”So many bots for a simple college run, eh?”

Demencia smiles menacingly,”Look Flug, a new bug to squish!”

Flug’s squints, doing a quick evaluation of the villain who-! His eyes widen in fear.

”Demencia wait!”

Demencia launches herself with full force, effectively slamming you into the ground with a heavy thud.

Digging your fingers into the hybrids hair, you headbutt her, letting go after hearing a wet crunch of bone.

Demencia jumps away, wiping a trail of blood running from her nose,”Ohhh, I like you~” Her eyes shine with excitement.

“Can’t say the same” You stand and wince at the throbbing pain forming behind your eyes. Unlike your siblings who had a natural buffer to keep them from feeling the affects of their abilities, you inherited drawbacks from your mothers side. The more you fought, the more your body suffered.

Power came at a price.

A sudden blow to your diaphragm knocks the air out of your lungs, causing you to skid back several feet

You allow yourself only a moment to catch your breath.

‘Pitiful’ you think to yourself,’I’ve let myself become soft.’ You look to the girl in front of you, her fist bloody but her grin still plastered on her face.

You weren’t Conquest, or War, or Pestilence, or even Death.

But you weren’t weak.

Your gauntlets begin to glow as your armor shifts. Slamming them together, they morph to form spikes along the knuckles.

Flug calls out again to Demencia who dances in place, unaware of the enemy in front of her drawing closer,”Don’t let her hit you!”

“Aww come on doc, she’s just a poser! Look-“

Demencia is knocked to her knees.

Blast after blast, spikes of energy pierce her body, sending her further into the ground.

Fumbling with his blaster, Flug retrieves a remote from his coat, pressing a bright red button.

“H-Hatbots, attack!”

#villainos #villainous #flug #demencia #black hat #blackhat #black hat x reader #blackhat x reader #villainous x reader #villainos x reader #soulmate au #gonna be slow ish #definitely ooc #because lets be honest #black hat aint a sweetheart #bUt He WiLl bE #part 1 #sinful symphonies #god tests me

[dustedmagazine]

Listed: Colin Fisher

Photo by ilyse krivel

Toronto-based multi-instrumentalist Colin Fisher is on a constant quest for the ecstatic through sound. His journey has taken him in many directions, from the math-rock inspired group Sing That Yell That Spell, to the fiery free improvisation duo Not the Wind, Not the Flag. As a band leader, his free jazz quartet released the white-hot Living Midnight for Astral Spirits in 2020, about which Derek Taylor wrote, “Passages of ruminant restraint alternate with excoriating blasts and outbursts, but the means always remains intelligible and momentum driven whether full-steam or incremental.” Solo, Fisher has recently wafted in a more contemplative direction that might see him associated with the new age revival, but this work is as exploratory and engaging as his most spirited improvisational outings. Here, he lists some of the pieces within which he experiences the sublime.

Jean-Pierre Leguay — Chant d’Airain

Some of my first experiences with the sublime in music were in church. I abhorred being in church (and would even attempt to hide to avoid attendance) but at the end of service the organist played as the congregation filed out. The selections were usually secular and I can remember my rapt attention. Not because of some aesthetic taste but because I was having a physical/biological response to the sounds. Being in the resonant chamber of the cathedral provided a fully immersive experience. Rather than suggest whatever music was being played at the time I’m going to fast forward to my mid 20s… While in the same church, I heard the principal organist of Notre Dame improvise with some Messiaen-symmetrical ideas that lifted me out of my corporeal form and left me sobbing in a church pew at the very church I would have done everything in my power not to be present in as a child. The organist was Jean-Pierre Leguay.

Ravi Shankar — At Monterey Pop

An early transmission from what seemed like outer space at the time, as a young child I heard the sounds of Ravi Shankar and Alla Rakha live at Monterey Pop (my parents had this and the record with Yehudi Menuhin.) Ravi is far from my fav Hindustani musician or sitarist, of which I have innumerable favorites now. But I’m particularly enamored with Vilayat Khan after reading his biography, The Sixth String of Vilayat Khan, a couple of years ago. Pandit Pran Nath is also a huge inspiration.

Polvo — Cor-Crane Secret

Without sifting through the rubble of my punk/hardcore teens (which was totally legit inspirational beauty, from Minor Threat and straight edge to grunge, etc.) I want to highlight a band that literally changed my life in my mid to late teens. When I first heard Cor-Crane Secret by Polvo, I didn’t realize that music like this existed. It gave me permission to go on long wonky improvisational explorations — endless melodies and whammied chords that would go on for hours sometimes. I also got to see them on the Today’s Active Lifestyles tour when I was 18, totally life changing.

Ornette Coleman — The Shape of Jazz to Come

The next stage I’ll focus on has a little more girth: my introduction to jazz/free jazz/improv/fusion. I think I first discovered this music by accident. I remember seeing a clip of Monk on the news the day he died. I was much younger, and I thought to myself “this music is like an alien transmission!” But I put that away in the vaults for a couple of decades. I also remember seeing a clip on TV of a soprano player at a jazz fest in Toronto, playing the craziest shit I’d ever heard (once again on a news program,) but had little-to-no context. The clip lasted probably 10 seconds but felt longer and I remember thinking something like “this is more punk rock than punk rock!” hahaha. So, there was a hunger there that I needed to satiate. But I had no access to any recordings where I lived. I remember reading books at the library about jazz history and the only CDs I could borrow were Manteca or big band music. I had to imagine what Song X sounded like for the time being. Ornette’s The Shape of Jazz to Come was one of the first albums I actually bought, and it was more magical than any description could possibly illustrate. As pedestrian as this may seem to everyone now, it was another life changer for me. I can remember late nights sitting by myself, probably super high on good weed, listening to “Lonely Woman” and weeping.

John McLaughlin — Extrapolation

In my early days of discovering jazz, I also came across the music of John Mclaughlin, initially via Mahavishnu Orchestra. His whole profile as a guitarist was incredibly inspiring for me — someone who had an equal footing in jazz, Flamenco, Indian classical music and fusion — a model for what I could become as a player (although I don’t think our styles are really even that comparable.) One of his albums that I think is maybe overlooked in his career is Extrapolation which has an incredible lineup and the compositions are incredible.

John Coltrane — Interstellar Space

In considering this list I’m realizing there’s no way I can touch on all the music that has shaped me. But there is an album that’s shaped a great deal in terms of how I play and in what seems to be my favorite type of collaborative setting — the duo. Interstellar Space is an absolute masterpiece. Everything feels raw — the intensity, the interplay, the emotion. As much as I love so much of John Coltrane’s music, there’s something about this record that was akin to hearing punk music for the first time. There’s an immediacy to expression and interaction. And it was something that felt available to me (certainly not his virtuoso chops, which felt otherworldly — an unscalable monolith.) The direct communication between two people was a revelation and the content of this music felt like something I could mine for the rest of my life.

The Ivo Perelman Trio — “Cantilena”

Fast-forward another few years or more and I had travelled with some good friends to NYC for I think it was the JVC Jazz Fest. We wanted to see MMW play (of whom I still think Friday Afternoon In the Universe is a perfect album.) While we were there though, we saw so much beautiful music that blew me away. The most significant for me though, was catching the last 10 minutes of a set by the Ivo Perelman trio in Tribeca somewhere (the trio was with Jay Rosen on drums and Dominic Duval on bass, who I played with several years later. RIP). It was electrifying. I was moved enough to go and talk to him after and he gave me an unmarked demo tape of Seeds, Vision and Counterpoint. There’s a track on the album called “Cantilena” and it really drops into this heavy space for around 10 minutes that gives me the chills every time I hear it. There is this free lyricism that is still absolutely elating to me. I love his playing and he’s still probably my favorite living saxophonist.

Marilyn Crispell — Vignettes

Masabumi Kikuchi — Out of Bounds

Using lyricism as a segue it brings me to the music of Marilyn Crispell, especially her albums Amaryllis,Nothing Ever Was Anyway, Vignettes and many others. She has a mode of free ballad playing that is absolutely transcendental. I will also mention Masabumi Kikuchi in the same breath. I find the desire more and more to play with a similar intention even though I rarely find myself in the context to do so.

Jute Gyte — Birefringence

A total shift from this narrative of discovery and development is metal music. Something I’d been listening to since my teens and getting hip to some cool thrash music through Canadian band Voivod, particularly the album Dimension Hatröss. I've continued to follow the music and all of its various subgenres and have so many favorite picks, but I’ll choose just one and it’s a total mindbender. Jute Gyte’s Birefringence actually eclipses easy category and you really just need to experience it.

Giacinto Scelsi — “Uaxuctum”

Catherine Christer Hennix — “Blues Alif Lam Mim In The Modes Of Rag Infinity/Rag Cosmosis”

My last pick is another double pick (I know I’m cheating) because it relates to the power of music and ties it into the first selection. Another current, among many, of musical obsessions is “new music.” But when I heard Giacinto Scelsi’s music for the first time it surpassed all of my previous notions about what was possible with composed music — it felt like music from an ecstatic vision. Even as I listen to the track now, it immediately accesses some occult realm of sublimity that feels similar to the music I first heard in church but with an unbridled intensity and depth.

Another more recent selection that fits into this category — but that is different in that it embraces a sort of stasis rather than dynamic movement — is the music of Catherine Christer Hennix. If you don’t know her, she’s a deep well of musical/mathematical/spiritual inspiration for me. Another music without a real equivalent in this day and age — something that echoes ancestral currents as well as the vibration of the cosmos itself. Thanks for reading/listening. Peace be with you. xoxo

#dusted magazine #listed #colin fisher #Jean-Pierre Leguay #ravi shankar #polvo #ornette coleman #john mclaughlin #john coltrane #ivo perelman #marilyn crispell #masabumi kikuchi #jute gyte #giacinto scelsi #catherine christer hennix

[a-fluffer-nutter]

Crowley is ticklish and he's shy about it...

A/N: My dear, you are posting so much about tickly Good Omens and it fills me with so much joy… so have something in return. :) 

Kissing the sweetest angel in existence on a daily basis was a good reason to blush. Whenever Crowley condisered this, he had to hide a grin behind his hands and felt his skin heat up under his fingertips. Aziraphale was in love with him and what better thing could have occurred for the rest of eternity? 

The demon liked to sit in Aziraphale’s bookshop and just watch him shuffle around and ignore potential customers. His heart fluttered like it was winged whenever the angel sent him a look that promised kisses and hugs and touching and all things that were good in the world. Since they were doing all the mentioned activities as often as they could, a few secrets had been brought to light over the past months. 

Firstly kissing made Aziraphale’s lips red and shiny which made Crowley want to kiss him more which could lead to a swollen mouth on both sides. Aziraphale never complained about this. On the contrary he started to smile widely into their kiss whenever Crowley stopped to stare before he kissed him with more and more passion. This wide smiling tended to make Crowley hum sounds and songs into Aziraphale’s mouth, because he didn’t know how else to handle the cuteness…

Secondly the angel was very good at seducing a certain demon into let’s-undress-and-get-real-close situations. Crowley was way worse at telling and showing the angel what he wanted. Aziraphale’s very strong hands managed to pin Crowley down to a bed with a security that made Crowley’s head all dizzy and giggly.

And thirdly… Crowley turned out to be outstandingly ticklish. This had been unbeknownst to him over millenia. It didn’t take much more than Aziraphale’s hair brushing against his neck to get him cackling. And it didn’t take much more motivation for Aziraphale than Crowley’s half-shy half-dirty giggles to keep tickling him all the time. The light in his blue eyes seemed to intensify whenever he dwelled in the happy sounds that used Crowley’s glowing smile as a stage. The demon had a very strong and dramatic reaction to Aziraphale’s fingers raking up and down his protruding ribs - and Aziraphale had learned pretty fast that his clawing and flopping around combined with the booming laughter and the bright smile were a sign of enjoyment. Crowley bathed in the attention and the closeness the tickling brought with it. But he of course would never have admitted that. 

So it was one rainy night that Crowley was sprawled out on the bed without a shirt, his stomach against the mattress and a glass of champagne in his hand that Aziraphale stepped out of the bathroom and felt his fingertips itch with the wish to get them on his demon-boyfriend. He was already dressed in a pair of pijamas and felt cuddly and warm. An LP with Jazz tunes was playing in the background and Crowley looked up from the mattress with a soft smile. Aziraphale wanted to take a picture of the moment and frame it. He would cherish the memory with all of his heart.

“What, are you coming over here now, or do I have to get you?” Crowley teased with a wiggle of his eyebrows before he hid his grin behind his champagne glass, half of his face disappearing in the mattress.

“You want to get me?” Aziraphale answered with a smirk and started shaking his head. “We both know who is going to get who now.”

Crowley made a slightly hysterical noise when Aziraphale slowly hunched over and threateningly wriggled his fingers around as he perched over to the bed. “I am going to get you, dear boy. There’s nothing you can do about it.”

Crowley started giggling and quickly put his glass out of reach. He was flushed with embarrassment, but the sweet bashful smile stayed right on his face. “Nooooo, Ziraaaa.” He grabbed the sheets and pulled them over himself. For protection. Mostly protection from Aziraphale’s teasing, not from his attacking fingers….

Aziraphale snickered and slowly put his weight on the end of the mattress he was advancing. That got a shriek out of Crowley and he curled up into a tiny ball under the covers. The bright smile on Aziraphale’s face stretched out even wider and he could barely keep from laughing. “Poor little demon.” He mused in a playful voice. “So tiny and soooo ticklish. However is he going to endure…?" 

The small demon-ball twitched and cackled shortly when Aziraphale put a harmless hand on top of it. The angel could feel the backsides of ribs. So Crowley was showing him his back. Good. Easy access to adorably ticklish sides, ribs and if he was lucky also to the sensitive underarms. He laughed silently and weighed Crowley in a false sense of security by stroking up and down his back in a soft caressing way.

"Awe, all hidden away. But this way, I can’t even have a look at your sweet, sweet smile.” Aziraphale gently kissed along Crowley’s back through the sheets, making the demon wriggle around in anticipation and mushy giddiness. 

“Mhghngk.” Crowley growled into the mattress and pushed his body closer to Aziraphale’s legs. That way he revealed his entire left side, easily accessible even through the cover.

“Oh well…” Aziraphale sighed loudly, his eyes shimmering with mischief. “I can still hear you laugh.”

And with that he dug his hands into the obviously “unintentionally” opened left side of the ticklish demon and poked, squeezed and scribbled away. 

Crowley gave a choked noise before he kicked out underneath the blanket and started writhing with mirth. He couldn’t move freely, all entangled, and suffered under this circumstance in that he couldn’t protect his ticklish spots very effectively. The longer Aziraphale’s fingertips picked at one particular spot the worse did the feeling get. And Zira was an expert at circling out Crowley’s weakest spots with precision.

“Oh no no STAHP!!! PPFFAHAHHA NOHOHOO ZIRAAA!!! NOt theeeere ahahahaahHAHA!! STAHHAP!!!” Crowley felt his face grow hot as he tried to get Aziraphale’s tweeking hands off of his ribs. He was kicking himself free from the blanket more and more, here a hand, there a foot, and quickly realized what a huge mistake the whole covering up had been. Especially when Aziraphale shifted his weight and was suddenly clinging to Crowley’s leg that started to spasm immediately - but too late. Crowley threw his hands in the air when the angel’s soft fingers started to scratch at the arch of his foot. He shrieked into the material covering his face and wrapped his arms around his own middle to keep from flailing. It was very hard not to when Aziraphale’s skilled fingers moved up and down his poor sole and seeked out weaker spots even here. 

“AZIRAHAHAPAPHHAPAA!!!” Crowley rocked back and forth and tried helplessly to free his leg from the angel’s strong grip, going absolutely crazy with the highly sensitive sensations. “PLEHEHEHEASE NOOHOHO. OOOHH GGGGOOOD!!!!!" 

"Yes, blame her for this. I think that’s fair.” Aziraphale hummed and happily stripped Crowley’s foot - away with the sock. The renewed attack of his fingers on the bare sole made the poor demon howl with laughter. He tried to curl his toes, but Aziraphale denied him that bit of relief with his free hand. 

Crowley’s cheerful laughter turned deeper and heartier when he managed to hold the foot completely still with one hand. Aziraphale couldn’t quite believe the cutest, high-pitched sounds coming from his lover when he started kissing up and down the heel. His breath combined with the soft touch of lips made the demon lose his mind. 

“OH HHELL HEAVEN AAHAHAHA PLEHEHEHEASE. NOHOHOHO MORE OF THAHAHAT." 

Aziraphale chuckled softly and released the demon’s foot. It quickly disappeared under the blanket again and Crowley’s giggles died down a little for the time being. Heavy panting could be heard through the thin layer of fabric. 

"Hmmmm.” Aziraphale made and loved how Crowley quit panting to listen intently. “I believe there was another spot I remember to being very worthy of my attention… wasn’t it right… here!" 

Crowley squealed happily when Aziraphale’s hands slipped under his cover and found his ticklish tummy. He arched his back and grabbed for the wrists, but his hands got tangled up in the fabric again and he couldn’t do much more but shake and laugh and shake and laugh.

Aziraphale’s fingertips traveled up the underside of his left ribcage and down again on the right side, they dug into death spots and ran over the sensitive skin as if it were sand on the beach. 

Crowley could barely catch his breath from the endless laughter, tears forming in his eyes. "I GIHIHIVE!! PLEHEHEHEHEASE. I GHIHIHVE UP!! I CAHAHAN’T BREATHE!!!!" 

The hands on his stomach rested and Aziraphale worked his head underneath the covers. He grinned brightly at his flushed demon lover and gently kissed his navel, letting his nose travel a half circle over the ticklish skin to get a few more of those giggles. Crowley bit his lip in embarrassment and quickly hid his face behind his hands. His heart jumped at Aziraphale’s short chuckle. 

"Awe no.” The angel whined softly. “Don’t hide that pretty face." 

"Ngk.” Crowley groaned, because he didn’t have the words for his dilemma. He loved the tickling and the playing and the teasing. But he could never voice it. And his love for it had the side effect of shame. He felt silly for loving it all so much.

His shame process was interrupted by a jolt of ticklish energy being sent through his body by a sudden raspberry. He jerked his hands away from his face and barked out a laugh as the angel vibrated his lips onto the ticklish skin.

“Heyyy.” Crowley complained with a barely contained smile. “That’s cheating.”

“You love it.” Aziraphale stated happily, making Crowley groan in embarrassment again. The angel merely chuckled. 

“I love it.” He said softly to underline his general opinion that Crowley had nothing to be ashamed of. 

Crowley looked at him through his fingers. “You do?”

“Is there anything better than being the cause for your laughter?” Aziraphale softly tweaked Crowley’s sides. The demon twitched with a noise and managed not to hide his own face this time. Instead he took Aziraphale’s hands and pulled the angel up on top of him. Their noses touched.

“Do you feel safe under the blanket?” Aziraphale whispered. Crowley nodded.

“Then we will stay here.” He concluded and indulged Crowley in a kiss that was worth a mentioning in the history books. It only took him three more minutes to figure out that a demon shouting “STOP I CAN’T BREATHE” was a total brat. He didn’t have to breathe after all… so Aziraphale renewed his vicious tickle attack and blew raspberries on Crowley’s tummy until the laughter brought tears to Crowley’s eyes.

Rose’s notes:

HOLY FUCK THIS IS SO GOOD!! Thank you so much for sharing this with me, I can’t believe how adorable and amazing this is!! I’m crying, this is perfection!! I love you so much

#good omens #tickle fic #not mine #submission #ticklish!crowley #beautiful boys #this is too good

[captainkippen]

I don't know where I'm going with this, it's just a piece of free writing because I felt inspired. Might keep going and turn it into a short story or something.

TW: Implied abuse.

1994.

The door clatters open like a twister is blowing through and I jerk up with such violence I almost slide right off my seat. There are a few bleary-eyed moments of confusion as my heart calms down before a takeaway cup of coffee is thrust under my nose and I'm forced to take it before it ends up decorating my shirt.

"Rise and shine, loser. You fall asleep at your desk again? You know you're gonna have permanent keyboard marks on your face if you keep doing that."

I bat Jay's hands away from my neck, saving myself from one of his terrible massages. He keeps telling me he has magic hands, but I'm pretty sure the crick in my neck only sticks more stubbornly when he tries to get rid of it. I give my shoulders a roll, sighing into the satisfaction of feeling my joints click, and swivel around to face him.

He's dressed in the same clothes he wore to mall yesterday and the heavy stench of too many cigarettes clings to him which means he probably spent the night at Ricky's - our local 24 hour diner - periodically ducking into the alley to burn through a new pack of Marlboroughs. A fresh smudge of dark purples and blues stains the skin around his eye. I hope he at least gave his brother a bruise back to match.

"What time is it?" I punctuate my question with a yawn just to make a point, but he just grins and holds up his watch.

7:15AM. Wonderful. At least he waited until he used the front door for once. My parents fret about him breaking his neck every time he leaves scuff marks on the window ledge to avoid waking them up.

"Did you actually get any sleep last night?"

"Did you?" He fires back with a raised eyebrow, shrugging off his jacket and flopping onto my bed to grab the latest issue of Rolling Stone from where he left it strewn across one of the pillows last time he crashed here. Comfortable silence falls as I admire the way his fingers bend the magazine back. There's this little crease that forms between his brows whenever he's concentrating, physical evidence of him trying to force his brain to focus on one thing at a time and not the myriad of random thoughts bouncing in there at any given time. I hide my smile in my coffee - he knows I'm not really annoyed, but I refuse to give up the illusion. It's a ageing routine, but one I never get bored of.

I count the minutes until the silence breaks. One. Two. Thr-

"So I was thinking," he says, the sighs like he's exasperated at his own inability to keep words in. It's one of the many things I like about Jay - he always speaks his mind. It makes it easier to understand him.

"Dangerous task for you."

An unimpressed middle finger greets my words before they're completely out. I hold back a snort.

"Sorry. Go on?"

We've known each other since we were seven. Across the street neighbours. He was the first person I met when I moved in with my foster parents. In a street full of unfamiliar tree and looming white houses he sat there on the curb pretending to fish with a stick and a piece of string. He'd called over as I got out of the car, asked if I liked trout. I didn't even know what trout was. That was okay. It was gross anyway, apparently.

I don't remember ever making friends so easily, like we just fell together and that was it. No fuss. Ten years on and the surprise hasn't waned.

"You guys want breakfast?" My mom pokes her head around the door with a tired smile, interrupting whatever train of thought Jay was hopping on.

I shake my head and lift my coffee, ignoring the disapproving look she gives me. Coffee is not food nor is it particularly good for you, but it's also not worth a battle over nutrition before eight o'clock.

"All good here, Mrs H." Jay smiles, all teeth and charm and twinkling eyes, then pats his stomach as if to confirm it. It's a smile that's impossible to disagree with when it's directed right at you.

"You sure? Alrighty then," Mom says, doubt creeping into her tone despite her fond look. She was forever trying to feed Jay, convinced he was too skinny. Worried he wasn't getting enough to eat. I can't say I blame her - some days Jay looks like he's auditioning to play Mike Teevee right after he got put through Willy Wonka's stretching machine, but it's all an illusion. I've watched him consume an entire box of donuts in one sitting more than once. His stomach might as well be a trash compactor for all the junk he eats. Plus he always has snacks tucked into the glove compartment of his car in case of emergencies, right alongside a sock full of laundromat destined quarters, a spare toothbrush and his shaving kit.

"Sawyer, honey, can you please clean up a bit in here? It looks like a bomb hit it. Guests don't want to sit in this."

"Half of this is his mess!" I splutter as my mom smiles and disappears back down the hall. "He's not even a real guest!"

Jay only laughs and ducks out of the way when I throw a balled up sock at his head. Asshole.

"So as I was saying..."

"As you were saying," I roll my eyes, gesturing for him to continue.

"I think we should do something."

"What, like go to the movies?" There's nothing good out at the moment, I'm pretty sure. We spent all last weekend debating whether or not to go see the latest Keanu Reeves movie only to spend all our cash on popcorn and get kicked out halfway through because Jay's running commentary made me laugh so hard I choked.

"No man, like... something interesting."

"...bowling?"

He shoots me an unimpressed look and I raise my hands in surrender. What else could he possibly have in mind? Our town only has three things to do; movies, bowling or the mall. We've been cycling through each option all summer. It's the same thing every year and it does get old after a while, but it beats sweating to death outside and spending all day playing video games sets my dad off on the perils of computer addiction. If I ever have to hear another lecture about technology rotting my brain it'll be too soon.

"For a writer you sure are lacking imagination."

"Well what do you suggest, then?" I huff.

There's a gleam in his eye and the warning lights start flashing in my brain just a beat too late. I know that look, it's the kind that got me put in detention three weeks in a row last semester for filling Roy Jackson's football helmet with food dye after he called spread a false rumour that Mary Harring blew him in his backseat. In my defence, it was all Jay. In his defence, I didn't stop him. Principle Ikener's never looked so disappointed. Roy Jackson's face was pink for a week. Scraping gum off the bleachers has never been so satisfying.

"Okay, hear me out first, alright," he says as I groan. We both know I'm already doomed to agree, but we play the part like he has to convince me anyway. Like I said, an ageing routine.

There's a pause in which I repress a sigh and let him dramatically drum roll his fists through the air and then he says, "Europe."

The word is emphasised with jazz hands and I can only stare at him for a moment, my brain trying to compute it. Did I mishear? Did he get part way through a sentence then forget the rest? He stares at me expectantly and it's all I can do to repeat the word slowly after him. His resulting nod is reminiscent of my aunt's excitable golden retriever.

"What about Europe...?"

"We should go."

"What?"

"To Europe," he insists. "We should go."

"You want us to go to Europe."

He looks at me like I'm being deliberately stupid. "That's what I said."

"But... why?"

Summers at home are dull. Three long months of sweltering heat and so many snow cones we make ourselves sick, and weeks on end of trying to think of new things to do, but it has never been so bad that we've resorted to leaving the country before. I'm confused.

"You're always talking about how much you want to travel! And we've got time. two and a half months before school. Think about it, we could be spending that time on the beaches in Spain, or looking at fancy architecture in Italy! I can drag you 'round some museums, you can force me on a tour of places famous English writers lived and we can get sick of each other in style."

Morning light spills through the window and highlights the dustmotes in the air. The bruises on his face seem darker with his face haloed in gold. I get another whiff of cigarettes and realise the smell is staler than usual.

"I don't know," I say. "My parents-"

I get a set of pursed lips in response. His expression is strained.

"Your dad is always saying we should broaden our horizons. He'll be thrilled. Besides, think of all the cute European girls we'll meet."

"How would we even afford it?"

It's a deflection. For a pair of teenage boys, we're both pretty good with money. Weekend jobs at Blockbuster and Baskin Robbins. I still have money saved from my Bar Mitvah, mostly because I've never really wanted anything enough to really splash out. My clunky computer works just fine and I'm content with books and notepads. Jay saves like his life depends on it, and maybe it does. Money for gas and food for the infinite hours spent avoiding his own home. Money for college. Money for escaping.

He stares me down.

One, two, three days since he left the Rolling Stone on my pillow only to pick it back up this morning. I'd noted his lengthy absence yesterday, but I'd just assumed he'd gone fishing. I should have known something was off.

"Please?" There's a desperate edge to his tone that rugs at my heartstrings and it's all I can do not to demand he tell me why he's suddenly so keen on visiting Europe when he's never expressed any such desire before. Instead I just sigh.

"Okay, but you get to convince my mom."

#my writing #tw implied abuse

[httphopewrld]

charismatic artist | (f)

Jin (BTS) | Charismatic Artist

Being a fashion designer is tougher than it looks. You realized this when your best friend, Seokjin, brought you along to one of his fashion shows. The day before was filled with him organizing outfits and the event’s details in the comfort of his room. At the end of the day, you understand how much he loved his career and the meaning behind his brand name.

 Pairing: fashion designer!seokjin x reader

Rating: no rating!

Genre: Fluff 

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1k+

 A/N: Happy birthday Seokjin!!!

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

 Out of all the things you imagined him being, a fashion designer was the last. The boy with outstanding grades, good looks, great taste in food, and amazing vocals; he wanted to be a fashion designer.

At first, he second-guessed his decision. Everyone did. His rough sketches of clothing items were supposedly 'atrocious', or a 'disgrace to the fashion industry. To you, they were just fine. 

In a matter of months, he got the hang of it. Seokjin's designs had quickly been introduced into numerous shops, with the company name: 'Butterfly'. He never said what the meaning behind the name was, but you assumed it was just a random name he had chosen.

Now your best friend was in fashion shows, runway magazines, Vogue even. Seokjin was winning award after award.

His first runway show will always be a reference. The look on his face was panic, mixed with utter happiness. Although the show was slightly disorganized; he felt like he could do anything after that. 

 .

.

 You and Seokjin traveled to New York, for a fashion show, two days ago. 

As usual, he'd pick a small suitcase full of his designing supplies, and a backpack filled with Korean snacks. And, of course, there was the expensive suits and clothing, packed in separate cases. 

It was a late Friday night. The fashion show he'd been talking about for weeks, was happening tomorrow; which meant lots of planning, and lots of stress.

Seokjin had been in the office room, in the hotel suite, working on the pieces he was going to present. So far, it had been eleven hours; he only went for a bathroom break twice. You hoped that there were no bottles containing yellow liquid- like you found two years ago. 

When he first shut the double doors, all you could hear was the faint sound of jazz music playing. Since then, you were 'busy' binging Netflix.  

 .

.

 It had almost been nine hours of killing time until you were interrupted by a gentle knock on the door. 

You turned off the TV immediately. 

For a full minute, you stared at the door, waiting for another round of distinctive knocks to happen again. The unnecessary suspense grew inside of your chest.

You finally became impatient, hurriedly getting off the sofa. You opened the door slowly, expecting to see a complaining staff member. 

To your surprise, there was no one there. Just a tray with an elegant tea set, on the floor. 

You looked both ways before picking up the tray and squiring back into the suite. The tea set shook as you carried it towards the office. 

"Jin! There are some drinks here!" You yelled at the double doors. 

"Coming!" His quick footsteps echoed on the tile floor as he walked towards you. 

His bronze hair was messy, and his turtleneck was wrinkled. The trousers he wore were too long for his legs, making him look like a toddler wearing their father's clothing. 

He greeted you with a smile before moving aside. "Come in. I haven't seen you at all today." 

You heard the door close while you set the tray on the giant desk. Seokjin's footsteps continued until they came to an abrupt stop. There was loud creak, followed by his high-pitched yelp. 

When you turned around, he was lying on a bed. He must've pulled it out from the wall.

"So, how's the preparation going?" You asked, pouring whatever was in the teapot into one of the China cups. To your surprise, rich hot chocolate.

"Good. I think I'm done for the night." He let out a sigh. "Now I can spend some time with my plus one." He wiggled his eyebrows, making you both erupt with laughter.

Seokjin made room for you on the Murphy bed as you passed him a cup. The bed squeaked as you both tried to find a comfortable position. 

You clinked cups then took a sip. The combination of chocolate and milk made your body relax immediately. It had been so long since you tasted the slightly bitter dark chocolate. 

"Why did you order hot chocolate?" You placed your cup on the side table and looked at him expectantly. 

Seokjin stared at you, resting his cup on his thigh, "Can't a fashion designer enjoy their favorite childhood drink? Besides..." He placed the hot chocolate on the ground. "I'm getting sick of the fancy teas. They're all starting to taste the same." 

You raised your eyebrows, "Wow... Poor you for getting sick of fancy teas that only a small amount of the population can even taste." You slowly clapped as he rolled his eyes. 

"Congrats, Jin. Way to sound so sophisticated and like a conceited dick at the same time." 

For a few seconds he seemed annoyed, but then a smirk formed onto his lips. 

"Says the girl who hates traveling around the world, because of the ‘too soft’ first-class seats. Many people out there would kill to be in your position." He crossed his arms, leaning closer to you. 

"I think you too, can be sophisticated and like a conceited dick at times." His eyes glanced at your lips, but then he refocused on your eyes. 

"You’re such an idiot," you said before whacking him across the side of his head with a pillow. Seokjin burst into laughter, as he jumped off the bed, getting ready to defend himself with his own cushion.  

 .

.

 You stared at his calm face. The movie you both watched continued to whisper something intangible to your ears. You closed the laptop and put it on the floor. 

He had fallen asleep halfway through the movie, collapsing onto your shoulder. The weight of his head on your shoulder felt like bricks. His drooling didn't make it any better, either. 

Wow, he really is tired...You thought as you rested his head onto a pillow; hoping that he wouldn't wake up. 

His eyelids fluttered as you turned off the side table light. In an instant, you regretted doing it. Your vision was obscured by darkness. 

As soon as your eyes adapted to the dark, you began to move towards the doors. You moved your hand frantically in front of you, making sure you didn't walk into a wall. Eventually, you could see a faint outline of your surroundings

Then there was a loud screech, like the legs of a chair on the ground. Even with your somewhat adapted vision, you had managed to walk into a chair. 

"Y/N?"  Seokjin's raspy voice made your body freeze.

"Y-Yes?" You stammered. 

The light turned on, and all of a sudden you were eye to eye with sleepy Seokjin. There was a worried, but tired, look on his face. 

"What happened?" He scratched his head as you continuously apologized for waking him up. 

"It's fine." Seokjin leaned onto his hand and stared at you with a confused look. 

He tilted his head, "Where are you going?" 

You looked at the door, then back at him. "Back to my room. We need to wake up early, and it's already—”

"You hear that?" Seokjin looked at the ceiling, listening for something. You didn't hear anything. 

He pointed up to the ceiling, furrowing his brows.

Then his expression turned bright as if he’s solved something major. "It seems there's some thunder happening, and you know I'm scared of thunder..." He said enthusiastically, but with a touch of sarcasm. Seokjin patted the space beside him. 

 You couldn't help but walk towards the cheesy boy. He turned the light off as you laid down on the bed.

It took a bit for you to get comfortable in the bed since you were sleeping beside your close friend, who was a guy. You soon found a comfortable position and closed your eyes. 

You heard Seokjin yawn and move closer to you. 

"Y/N? Are you still awake?" He whispered after a couple of minutes.

"What is it Jin? I’m trying to sleep." You turned to face him, your knees touching his. To your surprise, he didn't recoil back. He moved closer. 

"Do you still wonder why I name my brand 'Butterfly'?" You could see his calm face in the dark. 

"Kind of, yes," You admitted.  

"I named it after you." 

Your eyes opened wide, and you felt your cheeks become hot. It felt like more of a shocking feeling than a happy one, but you were still flattered. Your heart raced as he continued. 

"Butterflies are supposed to make you feel free, just like how you make me feel. You're the shining light in the darkness." Seokjin looked away from you. 

"But I'm also afraid that I'll lose you someday, just like a butterfly flying away." 

Your heart raced rapidly in the silence between you two. The nervousness finally subsided as you mustered up the courage to speak.

“You’re not joking right?” You asked, still not completely convinced.

He shook his head, “I’m not joking.”

You let the silence sit between you two before speaking, "thanks," while fighting back the tears of joy from spilling from your eyes.

You moved your face closer his and kissed his forehead. "Thank you very much, Seokjin." 

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