and the more worn out it gets the cooler it will look

lisa-in-the-sky  asked:

I'M HAVING THE WORST DAY so I would lovvvve to read stucky "it's 2am and I'm drunk and need salt for my fries and I know you're awake so OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR" 😁😁

“You need /what/?” Steve asks the handsome man who has lived across the hall for three weeks.

“Salt,” the man says, holding a soggy McDonald’s bag in one hand and a flashlight in the other. He is tearing up. “I need salt.”

“Why?” Steve asks.

“To exorcise demons,” the man says, then winces. “No, that sounded so much cooler in my head, but I can’t lie to you. I have all of these french fries but none of them are salty. I need salt for them, or else the world may end.” He pauses, then amends, “/My/ world may end.”

Steve gives him a once-over. The guy from across the hall is typically put-together. Steve has only ever seen him in a suit, with his hair slicked back. Now, he’s stubbled, wearing a t-shirt so worn that Steve can practically see his nipples through it, and a leather jacket. He also smells like a brewery.

Honestly? Steve kind of likes him better this way.

“How many fries will you give me?”

The man’s eyes go wide, like this question has caused him actual thought and, frankly, hurt. He groans. “Five!” he shouts. Steve holds back a laugh. “I will give you five french fries in exchange for your salt.”

“Ten,” Steve counters.

The man’s mouth opens, like he genuinely cannot believe that Steve would have the audacity to ask this of him. Steve can barely restrain his laughter. Then he shuts it, straightens up, and nods with firm resolve. “Fine,” he says, “but only because they are getting cold.”

“‘Course,” Steve says, then opens the door wider. “C’mon in.”

He’d feel more self-conscious about the way his apartment looked if he thought that the guy from across the hall would remember this in the morning. As it is right now, he doesn’t feel self-conscious in the least, and is actually sort of excited for his fries.

“So what’s the occasion?” Steve asks. “Why all the fries?”

“My fiancé dumped me for a secret agent.”

Admittedly, that wasn’t what Steve was expecting. “Sit,” he says, pointing to the couch. The guy from across the hall sits. “I’m Bucky,” he says, then adds with wide eyes, “and I’m really sad.”

“I’m Steve,” Steve says, “and I’ll get the salt.”

“Thank you,” Bucky says, then starts to cry.

— —

The next morning, there’s a knock on the door.

Steve opens it, blurry-eyed and tired. “Hi,” he says, when he sees it’s Bucky. “You feeling okay?”

“No,” Bucky says, “but I brought you a present.”

“What?” Steve asks.

Bucky holds out a cylinder of Morton’s salt with a red bow on top. “I’m sorry for last night,” he says.

Steve can’t help but smile as he takes the salt. “It wasn’t a problem, really. Made my night a lot more interesting.”

Bucky looks down, straightens out his shirt. “You’re really chill,” he says. “And I know I’m a mess, but I appreciate you letting me into your apartment and everything.”

“We could do it again the next time you have a break down,” Steve suggests, then adds, “or whenever, really.”

Bucky looks up. “Yeah?” he asks, looking kind of cute and shy beneath long lashes.

Steve shrugs. “Sure,” he says. Then, “But the fry tax goes up if you’re in a good mood. I’ll need my own order.”

Bucky groans, Steve laughs, and together, they empty that new container of salt.

walk in the park || t.h

Relationship: Tom Holland x Reader

Summary: Walks with Tom and Tessa never fail to make you smile.

Warnings: pure fluff!!!!

Word Count: 1.1k

A/N: Format is still fucked up (it’s literally killing me) but I’m really tired and I just love fluffy Tom I hope you all enjoy because this made my heart swell with love for him!!!!!

You let out a small yawn as you slipped the end of the seatbelt into the slot, adjusting the strap as Tom got into the drivers side before doing the same.

“Tired?” He asked as he started the engine then turning to get a proper look at you, “not really, I just need'a stretch my legs,” you chuckled as Tom slipped his hand on your thigh, “we’ll be home soon,” he smiled sweetly, to which you did as well, placing your hand on top of his and playing with his long fingers as he began the drive to his home.

“You know,” you said as you followed Tom up the steps to his front door, “my arms, do in fact, work,” you said sarcastically as Tom turned to you to roll his eyes playfully, “let me do boyfriend things for you,” he whined as you chuckled but placed a kiss to his lips as silent thank you.

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If These Sheets Were States

Summary: Based on “If These Sheets Were States,” by All Time Low (X). 

Warnings: fluff. that’s basically it. fluff and pet names and iffy writing because it’s my first post.

Word Count: 1,588 Words

note: This is my first ever time writing on Tumblr and sharing it. This is for @sanjariti  and her prompt game and I am dedicating it to her because she is an absolute ray of sunshine and I love her. Please, if you like it let me know or tell me what I could be doing better! Thank you so much for reading! :)


Originally posted by sebstanslaugh

Sunday mornings have always been something to revel in, whether it’s sunlight streaming through worn curtains or now, with a muscular forearm draped across her hips. Sheets with childhood idols (or cartoon heroes) made way for soft gray linens that draped over your sore limbs.
“Blanket hog,” spoken in a tired and gruff voice was all it took to pull her from her slumber as the arm around her torso pulled her closer to his chest.
“Is that serum those science guys gave you not enough to keep you warm and cozy?” After rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she did her best to drape the sheets over his body that currently dwarfed her figure. 

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playing footy

Yeah, yeah, one of what is sure to be many Captain Swan soccer AUs after today’s game. Featuring Elsa, since Georgina was also playing.


“You owe me big time for this.”

Elsa tossed her gym bag in the backseat and climbed into the Bug, pulling the door shut behind her, “Believe me, Emma, I will make it up to you, I promise.”

Emma threw the car into gear and started to back out, not even bothering to check for oncoming traffic. There was no oncoming traffic, it was six am on a Saturday and the streets were completely deserted. As well they should be, because who aside from her somewhat uptight roommate was up at six am on a Saturday? Emma hadn’t been, not after she’d only come home to their shared apartment less than five hours earlier after another fruitless stakeout for her latest skip. She’d been sleeping very well in her flannel pyjamas and the eyeliner she hadn’t bothered to wipe off when Elsa had burst into her room and woke her up, explaining breathlessly that her car wouldn’t start and she needed a ride. Elsa couldn’t drive stick, so Emma had thrown her hair in a messy topknot and swapped the pyjamas for yoga pants and a tank while Elsa paced outside the bathroom and called for her to hurry.

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Home is...

AN: Been real heavy on the soft Bill feels recently. Hope you enjoy!

Musical inspiration: Home, Gabrielle Aplin

One never really gets used to it do they? That vastly empty feeling that sidles into the hollow of your heart, the one that matches your barren bed so perfectly. If you reach your hand to his side of the mattress, an indentation of where his body has lied for the past few months, still lingers there. It’s not warm to the touch like it would have been an hour ago, but it’s a painful reminder of what you put yourself through every few months. It’s worth it in the end though, isn’t it? Just to feel him next to you, to feel him inside of you. It’s worth it because even though he’s gone for nine months out of the year, he comes back.

He comes back every single time, and for you… that is enough.

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"Truth or Dare?" "Dare."

The ever cliché drinking-game-turned-threesome scenario.
Pairings: Tyler Joseph x Fem!Reader, Brendon Urie x Fem!Reader, Brendon Urie x Fem!Reader x Tyler Joseph, and heck even small bits of Tyler x Brendon are thrown in here
Warnings: alcohol consumption, choking, daddy kink, wow lots of dirty talk in here, subtle tones of sub!tyler, slight over stim./edging, double penetration
Word Count: 5.2k

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Apologies

Rating: K+

Summary: In the early morning hours after the events at the House of the Lucky Fortune, there is some guilt and regret over decisions made that night. Apologies are made and accepted.


Illuminated by the pale orange glow of the sunrise, the group of ducks trekked towards the entrance of McDuck Manor. The Golden Cricket’s lackluster song, which was more soothing than ethereal, added to the fatigue weighing in their bones. Scrooge and Webby were the most awake out of all of them, Scrooge having endured many a sleepless night in his time and Webby harbouring a severe sugar rush from drinking directly out of the buffet’s chocolate fountain.

Dewey stumbled on the stairs, hitting the front of his webbed foot on the edge of the step. He was saved from a humiliating face-plant by Donald, who snagged him by the collar of his blue shirt with practiced ease.

He turned to thank his uncle, but the words paused on his tongue. The activities of the day had visibly worn Donald down, from the bags under his eyes to his unfocussed glaze. Concern bubbled within Dewey and it chased away his exhaustion.

The front doors parted to reveal Beakley, who regarded them with a bemused expression. “I would have thought the Golden Cricket’s song would have enlightened you rather than exhausted you.”

“The Golden Cricket’s song is naethin’ more than a lullaby,” grumbled Scrooge.

“Ah. I am sorry to hear that. I was hoping you would be able to impart wisdom the Golden Cricket shared on life’s great mysteries.” Beakley quelled a smirk when Scrooge shot her a withering glower. “Should I ask how you managed with Gladstone Gander?”

“Definitely nae nao,” muttered Scrooge. “Ah’ve got tae wash the casino grime from me feathers and then Ah’m goin’ tae bed, where I just might sleep for fifty years.”

“How can you sleep when there’s so much to do I’m not gonna sleep for a hundred years!”

Webby sprinted past Beakley, a blur of white and pink, shrieking gleefully at the top of her lungs. Beakley gazed after her and then turned to Scrooge with narrowed eyes. “How much sugar did you let her have?”

Scrooge shifted his gaze. “The lass may have been overeager at a chocolate fountain. But tae be fair, Ah did nae realize exactly how much she had.”

“She was fine until we were halfway home,” added Huey. “I guess it took a while for all that chocolate to kick into her system. Do you know how many cartwheels she can do in a row?”

“I can imagine,” said Beakley dryly.

She went to attend to her granddaughter and Scrooge made a straight path for his bedroom. Donald shuffled towards the stairs, the dazed expression only leaving his face when Dewey called out to him. “What is it?” he asked, one wing holding the banister as he paused on the third step.

“Um…I just wanted to say that when I said you were the worst, I didn’t mean you were the worst. I meant your luck was the worst. But I shouldn’t have said that at all. I’m really sorry.”

“Me too,” said Huey, shame-faced. “Just because you have bad luck doesn’t mean you’re a jinx. Uncle Gladstone is naturally lucky and look where that got him. He would have been a prisoner forever if it weren’t for you.”

His beak lifted upwards in a smile and Donald opened up his wings. Dewey and Huey immediately hurried into his embrace. “Thanks, boys. I love you.”

“We love you too,” they said in unison.

After holding them for a moment, Donald let go. “It’s way past your bedtime and you need a recommended eight hours of sleep.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice,” said Dewey with a yawn. “Louie, you coming?”

Louie stayed in the middle of the foyer, wings dug into the pocket of his hoodie and eyes downcast. Sensing his brother wanted to talk to Donald alone, Huey tugged on Dewey’s arm. “He’ll be up in a bit. C’mon.”

They disappeared up to the second landing and Donald stayed in place, watching Louie intently. “Are you okay?”

The simple concern injected into the words caused his guilt to intensify, to crawl into his throat and tighten around his vocal cords. He had treated his uncle with such disrespect, after everything Donald had done for him and his brothers. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay—”

“No it’s not. I was really rude and you didn’t deserve any of it. I don’t care that you’re unlucky. I shouldn’t have made fun of you for it.”

“I probably shouldn’t have taken it so seriously,” returned Donald, slightly sheepish. “It’s always annoyed me how Gladstone always gets what he wants without doing anything. I hate admitting it, but that does sort of make him cool.”

“It doesn’t.” When Donald regarded him with surprise, Louie nodded. “Yeah, he gets a bunch of stuff for free. I used to think that was cool, how life came so easily to him, but I realized something. You’re cooler. I mean, bad stuff always happens to you and you just keep going and somehow you always make it through, just like today. Heck, Uncle Gladstone got trapped because of his luck and he couldn’t save himself. He needed your help.”

Having not quite thought about today’s events in such a manner, Donald could not help but grin. “He did, didn’t he?”

“He totally did.”

“Thanks, Louie. It’s not always easy being so unlucky, but I have three reasons that help get me through.”

Louie blinked. “What are they?” Donald sent him a pointed look and realization dawned. “Ooh, gotcha.”

“Get over here.”

Louie ran into Donald’s wings, which tightened around him. He rested his forehead against Donald’s chest, gripping the front of his shirt. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

The lingering shreds of shock from the events of the day disappeared and all Donald felt was a warm fuzziness in the pit of his stomach. He had spent so much time feeling jealous of Gladstone’s easy luck that he had forgotten he had something much better. He had Huey, Dewey and Louie, his boys, and they were all he would ever need.

“All right, now it’s time for bed. You get cranky when you don’t get enough sleep.”

Louie pouted. “I do not.” He let out a laugh and dodged the mock-swat Donald aimed at him. He wiggled his way past his uncle and hurried up the stairs. “Goodnight Uncle Donald!”

“Goodnight, Louie.”

His steps much lighter now that he had properly apologized, Louie headed down the carpeted corridor towards his bedroom. As he passed by the hall that led to his great-uncle’s quarters he slowed his movements, glancing over his shoulder. After a moment of thought he turned on his heel and approached Scrooge’s room, knocking on the door.

“What is it nao?” asked Scrooge as he opened the door, his burgundy bathrobe tied tightly around his waist. “Oh, Louie. What is it, lad?”

“I wanted to apologize.”

Scrooge furrowed his brow. “What did ye break?”

“Uh…nothing,” said Louie, slightly confused.

“Then what are ye apologizing for?”

“Oh—for accusing you of leaving Uncle Donald behind.” Louie self-consciously rubbed the back of his neck and said, “We still don’t really know each other all that well, but I should have known you wouldn’t do that.”

“Ye do nae have tae apologize,” said Scrooge, slightly bewildered. “It was a fast-paced situation an’ Ah do nae think anyone had time tae process it properly. Ye had a right tae be mad.”

“Maybe. But I should have trusted you. You wouldn’t leave any of us behind. It’s like Uncle Donald always says. Family helps family.”

“Aye.” Regarding Louie, Scrooge hesitated before continuing, “I suppose Ah should have been more considerate of your feelings. Donald means a lot to ye. Of course ye would be upset.”

“It’s okay.” Glancing over Scrooge’s shoulder, Louie could see water pouring over the edge of the marble tub and onto the smooth floor of the bathroom. “Your bathroom is flooding.”

“Curse me kilts, me bath!”

Laughing, Louie backed away from the door. Before it could shut in his face he said, “You mean a lot to me too, Uncle Scrooge. Goodnight!”

Scrooge watched the boy disappear down the hall, eyes wide with surprise. The continuous trickling of water on his expensive flooring urged him to move, his webbed feet splashing in the small puddle of water as he hastily reached over to turn off the tap. Pushing his sleeve up his arm, he reached into the bath to remove the drain, allowing the water level to diminish.

He watched the swirling water, Louie’s final words echoing in his mind. After a moment of pondering he left his quarters and went down the corridor. He planned to go to Donald’s houseboat, but when passed by the guest bathroom he distinctly heard the sound of more running water.

Donald answered his knock, towel wrapped around his waist, steam already fogging the room behind him. “Can I help you?”

“When me hot water bill comes in ye can pay it,” said Scrooge in disapproval. “What are ye tryin’ tae do, create a sauna?”

“It’s been a long day and for once I’d like to relax.”

“Aye…I suppose ye deserve it.”

“…did you interrupt me just to complain about the excessive water usage or did you need something?”

“I joost wanted tae say…well, Ah had no intention of leaving ye behind,” muttered Scrooge, giving an awkward cough. “An’ Ah’m sorry if ye felt that way.”

Surprised at this, for his uncle rarely apologized for anything, it took a moment for Donald to regain his words. “Wow. Where did this come from?”

“Nowhere,” said Scrooge gruffly. “Joost somethin’ Ah thought Ah’d say. Ah’ll leave ye to your shower.”

“Wait,” spoke Donald as Scrooge started to turn around. “Thank you, for saying that. I guess I didn’t really expect you to leave me behind. It was just…an unexpected plan. But if you hadn’t convinced Toad Whoever-He-Was to keep me, then Gladstone would still be his prisoner.” Donald paused and then joked feebly, “Which might not have been all that bad.”

Scrooge snorted. “For all places for Gladstone to encounter poor luck, it’s ironic he found it in a casino. I doubt this experience will change him. Ah never knew why ye were always so envious of him.”

Donald raised his brow. “What do you mean by that?”

“Gladstone is a freeloader who lets his luck take care of him. He’s family, but he’s arrogant an’ selfish. He knows nae the value of earnin’ what ye get. His life is shallow an’ one day it’ll all catch up tae him. Ye, on the other hand, know what it means tae work hard. Ye’ve provided nae only for yourself but for the lads. Ye made a lot of sacrifices—”

Scrooge froze at his use of vocabulary. Swallowing thickly, he looked away and said softly, “Ah did nae mean…”

“I know,” said Donald, taking a breath to combat the tightness in his chest. “I know. I get what you mean. I appreciate it…Uncle Scrooge.”

Nodding, Scrooge took a step back. “Ah’ll leave before ye use up all me water. Ye could leave the water off when you’re not usin’ the shower, ye know.”

“Goodnight Uncle Scrooge,” sang Donald, closing the door.

Rolling his eyes, Scrooge started back for his quarters. He encountered Mrs. Beakley on the way, where she carried a clearly ill Webby in her wings. “There’s a reason I tell you not to let her consume excess amounts of sugar,” said Beakley in ire.

“Sticking your head in a chocolate fountain is super awesome but also kind of a bad idea,” said Webby groggily. “Um…I also threw up on your Persian rug. I’m sorry.”

Lifting his eyes heavenward, Scrooge sighed. “So much for me bath.” Glancing at Beakley, he said, “Ah am the one who let her eat so much candy. Ah can—”

“Wonderful,” interrupted Mrs. Beakley, setting her granddaughter down beside her boss. “You can clean her up and put her to bed while I make her some soup. If you want to save your rug I’d suggest hiring a professional cleaner. For now, I’ll put it outside.”

Scrooge grimaced at the thought of his rare and expensive hand-made rug sprawled carelessly over damp grass, but did not protest. “Come along then,” he said and Webby hurried after him, a little bit more cheer to her features. “Tae think Ah used to be able to have nice possessions around here,” he said with a touch of fondness.

At the other end of the second floor, Louie was just collapsing into bed. His blankets were pulled over his head and he was just drifting off to sleep when his phone started buzzing on his nightstand table, startling him.

“Wha? Ah, man.” He picked it up, his scowl disappearing and replaced with surprise and bewilderment upon seeing Gladstone’s number flash across his screen. After a moment of hesitation, he answered. “Uncle Gladstone?”

“Hey, Green Bean! You won’t believe what happened. I just got a yacht for twenty dollars! You and the fam will have to visit sometime. It’ll be a constant par-tay!”

“I think I’ve had enough of your luck for a while, thanks,” said Louie flatly.

“Oh…I guess I get it. It can be overwhelming.”

Sitting up, his covers falling into his lap, Louie demanded, “Are you seriously calling to brag after everything we’ve been through the past few hours? Because if you are I really don’t want to hear it. Goodnight.”

“Wait!”

“What?”

There was a beat of silence on the other hand before Gladstone sighed. “Look, I wouldn’t have called you to help me out if I thought you all would end up trapped there with me. I thought Donald’s bad luck would be enough to sabotage Toad Creep-Face. It didn’t work out exactly as I expected, but I knew one way or another we would get out of there.”

“You know, it would have helped if you had told us immediately instead of at like, the very last possible minute.”

“He had eyes everywhere.”

“It was too risky for you and you thought your luck would be enough to work it all out,” summarized Louie.

“Something like that, yeah,” admitted Gladstone. “…I wasn’t really going to leave Don there.”

This Louie believed, because for all the gusto that was his uncle, he cared about Donald, even if he didn’t always show it in the right ways. “I know.”

“And…uh, I turned into non-cool uncle for a minute, and I just wanted to say that I didn’t mean it.”

“When was that?” asked Louie, feigning cluelessness. “When you let us think you were going to let Uncle Donald take your place as Toad Liu Hai’s prisoner?”

“No…”

“How about when you convinced Uncle Donald to play all those games knowing he was probably just going to humiliate himself?”

“Also no.”

“Are you talking about when you didn’t try to help out Uncle Donald at all during the—?”

“No,” snapped Gladstone. “I’m talking about when I said I didn’t need you!” There was a beat of silence and he added grudgingly, “Way to make me say it, Lou.”

“You did a lot of jerky things so I just wanted to be clear,” said Louie smugly.

“I didn’t mean it, all right?” said Gladstone in slight exasperation. “Next time we get together I’ll show you kids a good time without the threat of a spirt trying to keep us prisoner for all eternity.”

“That would be nice,” said Louie sincerely. “Hey, does your yacht have a waterslide?”

“Heck yeah! It’s massive. I’ll take a picture and send it to you.”

“Cool. So did you really call to tell me about your boat or was that your way of starting a conversation that would lead to you apologizing without really apologizing?”

“Welp it’s late and I’ve got stuff to do that you’re too young to know about!”

Shaking his head, Louie said in amusement, “Whatever you say Uncle Gladstone. Don’t forget to call Uncle Donald, who by the way is obviously the cool uncle.”

“Wait a second—”

“See you later bye!” Louie hung up with a snicker and collapsed against his sheets, a smile on his beak.

As his nephews were falling asleep Donald stepped out of the shower and into the steamy room. He had just wrapped his towel around his body when his cell phone started to ring. Donald grabbed from where it rested on top of the hamper and his state of contentment quickly disappeared when he realized who was calling him.

“I am not rescuing you from anymore demons or spirits!” he snapped.

“Geez, hello to you too and I’m glad you’re safe,” returned Gladstone.

“What do you want?”

“You seemed pretty down today and I just wanted to say that you shouldn’t be ashamed of your bad luck. It really helped us out today.”

“You mean it helped you out. We wouldn’t have been trapped in the first place if it weren’t for you.”

“Thanks, cuz. Nice to know I was just supposed to rot there.”

Donald realized how he sounded and let out a heavy sigh. “I didn’t mean it like that. If you had just told us directly, we would have figured out how to help you without getting blindsided.”

“All right, maybe I didn’t handle the situation the best way. But it all worked out.”

“Barely,” groused Donald.

“I wouldn’t have left you there.”

Surprised by this sudden admission, Donald said, “I know.”

It was an automatic response and Donald realized he believed it. Gladstone got on his nerves and was beyond selfish, but no, he would not have let him take his place as prisoner. Gladstone honestly believed that if he had won the game, he would be able to use his luck to get Donald out, or banked on the combination of Scrooge’s wits and brains and his luck would generate a successful rescue. However wrongly Gladstone treated this situation and how he used Donald, he would not have left his cousin or any member of his family behind.

“Good,” said Gladstone in satisfaction. “Hey, I got this new yacht for twenty bucks and you should bring the fam to check it out.”

Donald rolled his eyes heavenward. “You are the worst at apologizing.”

“It has a golf course,” persuaded Gladstone. “It’d be great if I could beat my personal best, especially if I do it while up against you.”

“And I’d be more than happy to cause unintentional destruction to your yacht while we play,” returned Donald.

“Eh, I’m sure there’s fantastic insurance that’ll cover everything. That’s usually always the case.”

“Goodnight, Gladstone.”

“Hold up, D-Squared. Were you serious when you said you wouldn’t rescue me from any more spirits?”

Donald smirked. “Are you scared your luck will get you in trouble again?”

“No! Weird things happen and it could happen again, not that I’m concerned. But if it does, and I happen to need some bad luck—”

“We’ll see how I feel,” said Donald casually. As Gladstone started to protest he hung up and let out a laugh. “Guess you’re not quite as lucky after all, cuz.“

fic; doorway to the gods

part one; msr; rated r; prompt by @morewinepls – Mulder and Scully are on a case and have to share a motelroom and it’s almost a hundred degrees outside but they’re not at ‘that stage’ yet but want to undress/be naked to deal with the heat so it’s really uncomfortable

@fictober

***

Ditat Deus. God enriches. The state of Arizona claimed it, but the state of Arizona was a liar.

Arizona. In June.

Deus dereliquit nos.

Scully was too tired to be angry, and therefore too tired to do her job. Every time she went to dust off the sand from her jacket, a more startling amount would shake out of her hair. Sandstorm season lifted earth into the sky and hurled it at the cities, whose people, seasoned desert folk (and certainly well done) only rolled their eyes and drew their curtains. Wait just a minute, and monsoon season would put it back in its place.

An orange Mulder fumbled with the keycard in front of her, and she managed a smile. With some glaze and a quality kiln, they could be collectible.

“Only one room left.” Mulder unlocked the door and held it open for her with one hand, wiping the sweat from the back of his neck with the other. “This is the last one not filled with sand.”

“As long as it has air condit–” She closed her eyes and stilled in the doorway, tightening her grip around her luggage. God had officially walked out on them. Hotter on the inside, like human skin. Mulder sucked his teeth and patted her shoulder sympathetically. She cringed at the heat of him on her back.

“They turn off all the units,” he explained. “On account of all the dirt.”

“Mulder.” A prayer, a curse, a plea – it showed up at least once per case, never in the same tone, always reliably ineffective.

“People are missing, Scully.” With another touch to her shoulder, he called first dibs on the shower.

***

The water was cool and the spray was plentiful, possessing a surprising pressure for a place that failed, according to Scully, in every other respect: the sheets that smelled like mildew, despite the barrenness of the surrounding land, the scorpion carapace she fished out of the sink, the lack of A.C. and Mulder, who in this shared space would be as inescapable as the heat.

Stepping out, she watched the water evaporate from her skin. She steamed. Patches of pink bloomed along her face and arms, and her hair was drying fast, every moment receding the pleasure derived from the cooling tresses. She trapped the strands between her cheek and shoulder and pouted in the mirror.

Covering her body, even just a t-shirt and a pair of running shorts, filled her with agony, but she did it, and did not even blaspheme as she did. Back in the room, she nearly stepped on Mulder holding his cheek to the carpet.

“I don’t know why, but the floor is cooler.”

“Ceramic tile is popular in the south.” She dug her foot in the carpet and frowned. Not a thing in the room lacked a protective layer of absolute filth. Mulder could remain alone on the floor.  “It’s a better conductor than carpet; it absorbs body heat more reliably. They probably didn’t remove the tile before installing this… covering others might describe as carpet.”

“It’s an impressively crappy motel,” he agreed. Scully hummed.

He rolled over to look up at her, towering above him with her arms crossed and her lips pulled into a fond smile. Forgoing pomade turned a normally rebellious curl into a downright lawless creature, and he wore an imprint of the carpet on his cheek. She was used to him in his undershirts and boxers, more familiar with a Mulder removed from the constraints of public decency than she’d been with former lovers. It could be argued that Mulder was never quite decent, in public or elsewhere. “You’re not getting in that bed without another shower, I hope you…” She stopped.

Moving with the speed of only a guilty man, he climbed onto his knees and out of her way.

Scully glanced down to where she had caught him staring; her shorts had ridden up, sticking to her skin as her body had reacclimated to the heat. Her thighs were bared, and then some… and then some. She hastily tugged the cloth back down.

As a half-hearted joke, he laid down on the bed and rubbed his body along the sheets. But the tone had been set, and Scully could not look at him. She tucked herself into the leather arm chair, well-worn and covered in cracks, and regretted the decision long before the sweat made her one with the seat.

Then all was the silence, and all was the heat.

It was a rightful continuation of the awkward dance they’d been engaged in since they’d begun baking in their shoes on the tarmac at the Tucson International Airport – starting with Mulder loosening his tie, slipping off his jacket and tossing it over his shoulder. One button, then two. Scully’s pantyhose coming off in the rental and her shirt untucked. The weight of his eyes on her bare legs, the speed at which he turned down the window after tearing them away, the ridges of those muscles rippling under his sweat soaked Oxford.

Scully rested her eyes and simply willed herself to feel cooler, and Mulder leapt about the room in the way of a particularly restless cat. He found a place, and sunk into the momentary respite – each new surface unsullied by his own body heat. But then he’d groan and move on again, recycling the limited space like the hands on a clock.

“Scully,” he mumbled into his arm, having returned back to to the bed. “I’m taking this shirt off.”

“Wait, no,” she whined. “That’s not fair. What am I going to do?”

He huffed, wrestling his undershirt over his head and falling back to the bed with a sigh of deep, however fleeting relief at the removal of the oppressive object. “Just take yours off,” he tossed a hand and closed his eyes. Then, after a silent moment, he sat up again. “Wait.”

“That is so sexist–” He rolled his eyes and scooted up to the edge of the bed, settling into his standard thinker’s pose. “You can’t expect me to just – “ he waved at her again, and she contemplated throwing a pillow at his back.

Two minutes passed before his face flashed eureka. He beat his fist against his palm. “Listen, this happened to Jerry and I once. We were in the Keys investigating the murder of a whole house of drag performers – get this, the perp was another entirely separate house of drag queens, and I saw a side to Jerry I considered rather freeing and delightful – but the day before we were about to fly back to D.C. and get our party on, comp’d by every superior set up to benefit by us solving a tredecuple homicide, the Keys got hit by a huge Tropical Storm.” He folded himself in half, nodding. “Took windows out, cut the power, everything. And that heat was much worse than this, Scully. I mean, we were basically swimming in it.”

“Jerry? Stole-your-profile-Jerry?”

He tilted his head toward her, cheek in hand, and pinched his lips together unpleasantly. “Yeah. Dead Jerry.”

She looked to the window and folded her hands in her lap. “How did you ever manage to resist him?”

“We’ve been working together for what, five years now?” They shared a look before she turned back to the window. “It was bound to happen. It’s happening. We’re partners, and more than that we’re friends. So go ahead, Scully. Take ‘em out.”

She cocked her eyebrow at him and it killed his teasing smile. But she could tear up from just the thought of removing another layer.

Shuffling in her seat, the seal of her skin to the leather broke apart and she yelped, reaching down to rub at the clammy back of her leg. Screw it. She shot up and grabbed the hem of her shirt, working quickly to yank the thing over her head. God, that felt good. Holy moly that was so – but with her stomach exposed, and nearly the rest of her, she remembered she had taken off her bra before showering.

“You okay, Scully? If you’re uncomfortable…”

“No, I just did something silly. I’m not wearing a bra,” she said plainly.  Without much thought his eyes flickered down, fingers clenching tight in the bedspread. It wasn’t that she let him look, it was that she didn’t move away. His gaze simultaneously turned her to solid metal and melted her down. The heat it inspired was uncomfortable and so, so unnecessary, but it roiled, from her cheeks to between her legs, raising the hair on her arms, pebbling her nipples; flushed and damp, just from looking at him, and now she was soaked. Because where he went, she followed: his eyes on her breasts – and his focus did flatter her, never had she experienced the sheer interest he then exuded, the singular track of a rapid, precarious mind – her eyes on his chest, already bared to her, nothing new but entirely unfamiliar. His body was artfully defined, every part etched out with purpose and such power.

Shit. What was she doing? What had gotten into her? She stepped out of his line of eyesight and reached for her bag near the bed, fishing out the needed garment and marching into the bathroom.

Studying herself in the mirror, she had half a mind to not only keep her shirt, but also put the bra back on as reinforcement. She’d sizzle, but she wouldn’t be stupid. That’s what this whole thing was – it was all so gloriously stupid. Five years of working with the man and she had managed to keep her hands to herself. Despite his fits of shirtlessness and all of the devotion she felt toward him.

She imagined Mulder, her friend, a man who was honorable to a fault and who had not made a single move in all the time she had known him – and looking back… there were times it could have happened, times she would have gone for it, all those desolate moments she had needed, fiercely, to trust him and be trusted by him – he would not suddenly eschew all those components of his character that endeared him to her and made their partnership work.

Even as they upheld the boundaries that would keep them, on all other levels beyond professional, wholly and utterly separated.

So it was settled. Off went the shirt, on went the bra. She ran a washcloth under cold water and pressed it to her face and chest,  and picked her brain all of the times in her life she had ever been cooler than she was right then: from that morning, reading her paperback in the overly conditioned Dulles International terminal, to the Sapporo Snow Festival in Hokkaido… how Ahab’s nose would get so red, and the ice sculptures, delicate as to make one think of soap bubbles…

It made her shiver. She felt better already. Mulder, alone in that room, had probably come to the same conclusions she had.

Rejoining him proved her point; the tension had been severed. When she climbed into the bed he merely lifted his cheek from his new spot the wall to acknowledge her.

It all felt so normal again. “Explain to me more about this case.” She settled her head against the pillows and closed her eyes, fighting the urge to cover herself. The bra was lace and blessedly breathable. She could not afford to smother it.

“Two people went missing from a group of travelers.” He pressed his forehead to a cooler patch of plaster and held up two fingers next to his face. “We were handed the case because it’s assumed they were taken into Mexico. NPD didn’t want to handle it.”

“This can’t be an abduction. I was under the assumption you didn’t believe in those anymore. And Mulder, I did read most of the file. These weren’t just travelers, they were vagabonds.”

“Vagabonds with an extremely tight schedule. There’s a newspaper article in there that covers it – they’re referred to as ‘modern nomads,’ kindred spirits who’ve renounced the hustle and bustle of clocking in and clocking out, of carpools and smoke breaks, only truly living when the clock strikes five–” He paused, lifting his face and looking back at her. “You getting hot yet?”

She glared at him. He bit his lip and nodded, shoving his nose back in the corner. “Their goal is to travel the whole of the United States. They want to make a statement – America has more to offer than minivans and rolodexes. Mexico was not on the itinerary.”

“So kidnapping, Mulder. Cartel activity. Hell, if they were tan enough they were probably brought in for questioning by border control.” She turned her pillow over and kicked down all of the blankets. Just her and the scratchy sheet set. “But, the easiest explanation here might very well be the truth. They are travelers… who are traveling. What’s the X-File?”

“It’s where they disappeared,” he mumbled. He always got so sleepy when the temperature rose. The urge to call him into bed with her was only mildly tempered by her annoyance. “The Tumacacori Highlands. Doorway to the Gods.” Scully waited for him to continue. “File,” he grunted, turning and slumping himself into the chair.

The file was all the way over by the other side of the bed where Mulder kept his bag. She hissed, rolled over, and strained to reach it. She was also taken over by lethargy. Her bones grew heavier, like she was sinking into into the arid climate, her blood becoming sand.

She skimmed over the relevant information, her rising blood pressure doing nothing to help cool her down. “You think… they disappeared. Through a time portal in the mountains. Based on two accounts, which are… a word-of-mouth folktale credited to the Yaqui tribe from the Sonora state over… two hundred years ago, and two young treasure hunters who… from what I’m reading here, had an interesting relationship with tequila. Who have also claimed to be abducted by…” She squinted as she read. “Ghost coyotes.”

“I didn’t want to lead in with my ghost coyote theory.”

“Mulder, nothing I’m reading here possesses an ounce of credibility.” Lowering her voice, she added: “I thought you didn’t believe in this stuff anymore.”

He lifted his head. The presence in his gaze alarmed her, since for some time he had seemed on the edge of drifting off. It was alert, feverish, hot for her but full of regret. She had been a fool to think their moment had come to an end.

“Scully, I’m questioning my faith in a lot of things. But something that I have always found to be true… is that there are thresholds in this world that you can cross, and they will take you to other places. Mystical places that not even your dreams will transport you to, that are beyond all that we know, and certainly beyond our imagination.” Entirely too earnest, he kept his eyes above her chin. She stared at his lips.  “But some of those thresholds will never, ever let you go back.”

At times, the need to disagree with him was akin to a natural reflex.

But she found herself nodding, unable to blink.

Promfusion

A/N: I’m a huge dork who cannot make puns to save her life…oops? (Hence the title) Also, I think prom is kinda stupid, which is kind of why the imagine took the turn it did.

Tag: @ittybittydally (Can I tag you in this?? I know you wanted one)


Prom was one of the stupidest things ever, and your best friend Dallas Winston couldn’t agree with you more. It was basically spending an insatiable amount of money on somewhat decent food, dresses that would only ever be worn once and probably be ruined in the process, and crazy ways to ask someone out, only to watch your entire grade grind on each other, and give the bitchiest girl and her boyfriend bigger egos. 

Though, you did have a respect for it. It was sort of sweet, being able to celebrate surviving four years of hell, along with being able to spend one last night of fun with the people who made life bearable for those hellish years. 

Despite hating school dances, because of the anxiety they provoked, you were actually looking forward to prom, though you would never admit it aloud. You were going to be going with a group of your close girlfriends, dragging along whomever of the gang you could convince to go; basically meaning forcing Steve, Soda and Two-Bit.

Despite not going to school, you had convinced Dally to go with the rest of you, through a bit of bribery, ending up having to resort to blackmail. Though, he wasn’t as upset as you thought he would be. Yes, he grumbled and whined a lot about it, but that was about it. 

He begrudgingly agreed to go dress shopping with you and your friends, surprising the group of you when he picked out which would look best on your friends. He had asked you why you weren’t looking for a dress, to which you smirked slightly, saying that you would wait until they were slightly cheaper, not having enough money quite yet for the silver dress you had your eye on. 

The week before the prom, you had managed to snag the dress you had wanted, and your friends were at your house, deciding which of them would get Soda as their date, them having collectively decided that Dally was your date, much to your chagrin. You had argued till you were blue in the face, saying that he was only your friend, them giving you a knowing look before rolling their eyes at you. You had rolled your eyes at them, laughing slightly as you walked to your kitchen to get a snack, ignoring their antics.

You heard the phone ring as you were in the kitchen, about to go pick it up, only to hear it stop ringing. You shrugged your shoulders, going back to find the secret stash of candy you had, only to find a bread roll instead. Shrugging over your loss, you started to eat it, not really caring that much. 

“(Y/N)!” You heard your name being called, followed by giggling, and you were filled with a sense of uneasiness as you walked back to your room, looking at your friends who were giggling their asses off. “It’s for you.” You took the phone from them, only to have them laugh more.

“Hello?” You questioned, feeling as if you had just walked into a trap.

“(Y/N)?” You heard a gruff voice ask, your anxiety diminishing greatly at hearing the familiar voice.

“Yeah, Dal?” You asked, wanting to know why he was calling. 

“What color should my tie be?” He asked, sounding as if he were looking through a pile of clothes.

“Why do you need a tie?” You asked, feeling completely confused, because you were expecting him to need you to bail him out of the cooler. Again.

“For prom, you dumbass.” He said as if you had some remote idea about what he was talking about. “After all, it was your wonder-fucking-ful idea for me to go.” He said, you ignoring his tone.

“Well, I don’t know. Why the hell are you asking me?” You asked, your confusion from earlier returning back ten times as powerful.

“Man, don’t the guys tie have to match the girls dress and all that shit?” He asked, starting to feel confused himself. If Ponyboy was messing with him about this thing, he would murder the kid.

“We’re going together?” You asked, having no idea what the fuck was happening.

“Aren’t we?” He asked, sounding as confused as you.

“Since when?” You asked. “ I didn’t ask you, and you didn’t ask me.” You said, looking around your room, as if it somehow had the answers to your questions. You waited for a few minutes, hearing no response, wondering if he had hung up on you. “Dally?”

“Shit.” You heard him whisper to himself. “I forgot to ask her.”

When you heard that, you snorted, trying to contain your laughter, though you were unsuccessful.

“Ah, shudap.”

You laughed even harder, before you calmed down slightly. “Okay, I’m sorry.” You lied, with a huge smile on your face.

“No you’re not.” 

“No, I’m not.” You agreed, before breaking into even more laughter, tears starting to fall. “It’s just so funny. Dallas Winston doing something for someone else.” You told him, laughing a bit harder.

“Shadup, before I let you go by yourself.” He said, feeling slightly embarrassed.

“Silver.” You told him, your laughing subsiding into the occasional giggle, biting your lip slightly, waiting for his response.

“Hah?” He asked, feeling confused.

You smiled, biting you lip a bit more, feeling your cheeks heat up. “Your tie should be silver, but I don’t really care. Also, don’t bother with a corsage.” You told him, knowing that he wasn’t entirely sure of what he was supposed to do.

You could practically hear the smirk in his voice, as he said, “Okay doll.” You laughed silently, as you heard him whisper “Yes,” imagining him doing a fist pump.

“See you then, ass.” You said in a playful voice, hanging up, turning back to your friends, them having a knowing look on their faces, getting ready to hear them say they told you so.

“Ah, shadup.”

//My Hero//

Word Count: 3377

Group: NCT 127

Member: Jaehyun

Warnings: none

Originally posted by yoon-to-the-oh


“C’mon, (Y/N), why won’t you come tonight? For me?” Your best friend pestered you during your last class of the day. It was the Friday before a long weekend and you just couldn’t wait to unwind in the comfort of your home. Nothing appealed to you more in that moment than the idea of putting on your coziest pajamas, watching the cheesiest k-drama, and eating some spicy ramen. But that’s not what Yoona thought. She gave you the best puppy dog eyes she could muster as she continued to question you. “You never go out! And it’s my birthday this weekend. If you go you won’t even have to get me a gift…”  

“Why is it so important that I go? You go to parties without me all the time!” You rolled your eyes at her as you shoved a book into your bag.

Keep reading

New Beginnings Part 5/?

Pairings: Chris Evans x Reader

Word Count: 5,559

Warnings: Swearing, Fluff (seriously fluffy fluff, Chris is adorable)

Ratings: PG-13

Summary: After your grandparents pass away, you find out they leave everything to you, including a large sum of money.  Deciding to take the advice of your grandparents, you live your life to the fullest; which means moving to Boston and bumping into Chris Evans.

Part 4  Part 6

It was a blissful night’s sleep for you; never wanting to wake up.  With you and Chris acting out your horny teenager dreams last night, you had the best night’s sleep in a long time.  He really knew what he was doing with those magical fingers of his.  You could only imagine that he was just as skilled with other body parts as well.  

Chris’ alarm blared loudly waking the two of you up.  You were still curled up into his side as his arm was wrapped protectively around you. He reached with his other arm to turn the alarm off, causing you to groan.  

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Smile

This is for @dreamin-of-somewhere-else challenge! My prompt was the song Smile by Mikki Ekko! Thank you so much for letting me be a part of this challenge and thanks for the awesome song option! Sorry if this is super bad, I had to rewrite it like seven billion times!​

Requests and the Tags are Always Open!

Pairings: Dean and Sam x little!sister reader

Warnings: None! :)

Tags: @hellhoundlover @emmazach @percussiongirl2017 @winchesters-favorite-girl @sisterwinchesterwriter @staticweekes @lil-sister-winchester @hi-my-name-is-riley @the-third-winchester-warrior @fandom-queen-of-wonderland

 

You rounded eyes slowly met the sunset that left an orange reflection on the impala. Your pre-teen cherry lip gloss stained your lips as your cheeks were red, the chill gaining its power over your body. Shivers came and went as you sat on the hood of the impala, Sam below you on the old, worn out cooler, and Dean right beside you.

He moved his arm slowly, and casually over your shoulder. The weight bared onto your shoulders, but the heat from your father’s old leather jacket was worth the extra hold. Your spine cracked as you sifted, just as Dean took another swig.

Your eyes watched Sam trickle his finger down the side of his bottle, and another large grasp made your heart leap.

Everyone was on edge tonight.

Your father, John, had passed away a week ago. While somber hearts beat into the rhythm of the scene, a relief of stress, and new-found freedom grasped you all.

“Hey Dean?” you called up. He was still much taller than you were, even though your growth spurts were coming more frequently.

“Yeah?” he called down. You could smell the liquor lacing his lips and aligning the gaps between his teeth.

You sighed, taking another breath before asking the question playing at your mind, “Have we hit rock bottom?”.

Both Sam and Dean looked up to you, heads filled with what they knew was to come, what the outlined yet unplanned events would hold could only be far worse now that their father had made his choices.

“Um,” Dean started, but Sam interrupted, not meaning to cut his brother off.

“No, sweetie, not even close,” he grasped the bottle again. The sun was slowly falling beneath the rim of the land that passed your vision capability.

“What’s our rock bottom then?” you asked, the term being used once more. You had heard it form a friend from one of your many fourth grade classes.

Dean chuckled, feeling the guilt in his heart, “We won’t know until we get there, baby girl”.

You nodded at this, and let a single tear slip down your cheek. You quickly pulled the sleeve of your sweater up, and let the fabric stain with salted water.

“Hey bug,” Sam called out this time. For the past few weeks it had been only you who had asked the questions.

“Huh Sam?” you replied, feeling in your pocket for your father’s dog tags.

“The best thing to do is to smile,” he replied, taking his fingers, and trickling them downwards again.

Dean almost choked on the air that surrounded him.

“What?” you asked.

“The worst is still out there, and man it could come at any time,” Sam started.

“But, “Dean was the one to cut the response off this time, “No matter what happens, you should smile. You may not see it now, but there is always reason to smile”. This response was by far one of the greatest lies he would ever tell his baby sister.

“What’s your reasons?” you asked them both.

“You,” they replied in unison.

“No matter what time we end up kicking it,” Dean started.

“Or how many times we ask for forgiveness in the future,” Sam added.

“You will always be our reason to smile,” Dean finished.

And with the toss of a bottle, and a packed-up cooler, the impala drove off into the oncoming darkness, seeking the sun that would never rise the same way again.

Only luck could grant you the hope of more reasons to smile, and you would be lucky to ever see the sun again.

Night Class Pt.1 (M)

BTS; Yoongi/Suga

Genre: Smut | Vampire AU | College AU

Word count: 6,157

Warnings: Graphic smut; blood kink(i.e. slight razor play, small amounts of blood, etc.)

Description: You meet a beautiful man in your college class and hit it off with him at a party, but do you really know who he is? 

A/N: I suck at descriptions I’m sorry… Here we have a very beautiful Vampire Yoongi. I am not an expert on the blood kink, but I thought it was a nice quirk for him to have as a vampire and all. I hope you enjoy!

Originally posted by saltysyub

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Happy Halloween! | Bat-boys Collection

Notes: Happy early Halloween, everybody! This year I’m gonna be Catwoman (a mix of the Dark Knight, Batman Returns, and then the comic books respectively) and I figured I would write something short for each of the boys because I love them. Goodnight! I’ll try and post a pic of my costume when we go trick or treating tomorrow. My sis is gonna be Harley!!

Masterlist | Inbox

Taglist: @followeroonieclassic @robincoalition@puggleprincess @instantangelstudent @blue-streak-dolan


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Star Cross’d - Part 1

Yay, like, a real chapter! With, like…a real chapter length! :D

Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Alpha!Dean x Omega!Reader
Words: 1,890ish
Summary: And they’re off to see the Wiz–the reader’s fianceé.
Warnings: Swearing
Other Parts: Masterlist

Keep reading

BTS | Their s/o Wears Glasses Around Them For The First Time

Anonymous said:

can you pls do the “seeing their s/o with glasses for the first time” reaction for bts ???


Jin:
‘Why does the universe hate me today????’ you thought as your last contact tore. It had been a horrible morning to begin with, what with your coffee pot dying and then the hot water going out in your apartment and the landlord saying he would ‘get around’ to fixing it. Then there were the neighbors who were constantly fighting….

Having to wear your glasses was probably the last thing you really needed to be complaining about at that point. But what with the stress at work and now all the stress at home…this was not working for you.

“When you got the job I didn’t think you would change your look too,” Jin said when you walked into BigHit.

“What are you talking about?” you questioned.

“You know, becoming a PA and doing the whole slacks, blouse, and…well the glasses are a nice touch,” he replied.

You sighed. “I didn’t do it to change up my look Jin, I normally wear contacts but I ran out.”

“Oh….well it looks good…lemme take a picture cause this may never happen again.”

Originally posted by kim-taehyvngs

Suga/Yoongi:
Because of the fact that Yoongi wears glasses when he reads you figured that for the most part when you showed up at the dorm with your glasses he would be indifferent about it.

“Why are you wearing glasses?” he questioned as you walked into the living room where he was lounging on the couch.

“I’m out of contacts,” you said, “I ordered some but the doc said they won’t be in until next week. So unless you want me to start bumping into things…”

He was silent as he stared at you, trying to take in the fact that you were wearing glasses. “God we’re both gonna be blind by the time we’re eighty, aren’t we?”

Originally posted by sugagifs

J-Hope/Hoseok:
“Why would you hide this from me Y/N you look so adorable!” Hoseok said when he saw you in your glasses.

“I wasn’t hiding anything…I just never ran out of contacts and needed to wear my glasses,” you said.

“You never even told me you wore contacts…” 

“It never really came up…why are you staring at my like that?”

“I just…you look so cute and adorable…you should wear your glasses more often,” he said.

“Another reason I didn’t say anything is because I knew my ball of sunshine would do this…” you said, “They get in my way Hoseok…please stop with the look….”

Originally posted by nycbtslover

Rap Monster/Namjoon:
“This is why you’ve been avoiding me the last couple of day?” Namjoon questioned as he walked into your apartment, seeing you wearing glasses for the first time in your two and a half year relationship, “And how did I not know you were glasses this whole time.”

“I told you I wore contacts and you kinda gave me a ‘that’s great’ and continued on what you were doing and so I figured you would either remember or you wouldn’t,” you said, “Anyway…I wasn’t ‘avoiding you’ I was avoiding my glasses getting broken.”

“….I would’ve been careful,” he said.

“I know Joonie…anyway my new contacts just got here so I’m gonna go put them in, then we can head to lunch,” you said, setting your glasses in their case and heading to the bathroom.

‘I wonder how bad Y/N’s vision really is?’ he thought, carefully picking up your glasses and holding them up to try and see out them.

SNAP

“Namjoon, what was that sound?” you questioned.

“Um…well…Y/N, don’t be mad at me….”

Literally my worst fear


Jimin:
You were actually comfortable in your glasses, to the point where most of the time when you wore them you actually forgot they were even there. However, when working at a restaurant when going from the cooler front of house to the warmer back of house, the constant fogging up of glasses was not very helpful.

That in mind you really only wore your glasses when you were home alone or out of your contacts. So when your boyfriend Jimin Facetimed you late one night you didn’t even think about the fact that you were wearing your glasses.

“Whoa, Y/N did I tell you the them of our photo shoot?” he questioned.

“What?” you asked.

“Glasses….you’re wearing glasses,” he said.

You reached your hand up to your face and felt that in fact you were wearing your glasses and you laughed. “No Jimin…I wear glasses when I’m not wearing my contacts.”

“Oh…well they look good,” he said smiling, “Hey Jungkook, come look at Y/N…”

“Now you’re just gonna embarrass me.”

Originally posted by elfineveryday

V/Taehyung:
“You do not look weird,” Tae said after he saw you in your glasses for the first time, “You are the most beautiful creature on the face of this planet and you should know this by now.”

“That’s sweet of you, but you’re only saying that cause you’re my boyfriend,” you said, “I’ve always looked weird in my glasses…that’s why I wear contacts.”

“I’m serious Y/N, you don’t look weird,” he said, “If anything you should wear them more often.”

“That is not happening….”

“Why not?”

“I already told you.”

“Y/N…if you want weird, I’ve worn weirder things than your glasses could ever possibly be,” he said before leaving the room and returning with a shark hat on his head, “Now this is something that’s weird. Your glasses don’t come close to this.”

I want that hat

Originally posted by taetaebts

Jungkook: 
“You can quit staring,” you said, looking up from your food. After a horrible turn of events that included; your bag, the small child you were babysitting, and your contact case…you were stuck wearing your glasses. And apparently the fact that you were wearing glasses was intriguing to your boyfriend.

“I just never expected to see you in glasses…I mean you had told me once that you were contacts, but never that you had glasses too,” he said.

“That’s because I don’t like wearing them and they’re only back ups and I’m only wearing them because I’m tragically out of contacts,” you stated, “I know I look awful so-”

“You look great in glasses,” he said, “Jagi, you look hot.”

“I do not look hot…for me…this is not hot,” you said.

“Well…it’s your decision not to wear glasses but…I still think you look hot.”

Originally posted by officialwookkibby

xxBTS-Masterlistxx

Special Programme: Perfume "Collaboration" Excerpts

Morisanchuu: How will Perfume be like when everyone turns 50?
N: I think we’ll still be together.
K: Yeah, We do talk about it quite a bit huh - how the 3 of us will be like. I wonder if we’ll still be able to dance when we’re 50.
A: That is a problem huh. 50 years old - that’d be around the same age as my mom.
K: So it wouldn’t be weird to have a 20 year old daughter huh.
N: Well, but I get the feeling that there’ll definitely be something interesting that we can’t imagine. Don’t you think so?


Kimura Kaela: If you were to change your hairstyle, how would it be like?
K: Since I’ve always had long hair, I want to try having hair around as short as Nocchi’s, or maybe even Kaela-san’s.
A: Since Kashimama’s is short too, it’ll probably look good.
K: What about A-chan?
A: Huh, I don’t have any in mind.
N: What about the colour?
A: Ah, well, it seems like it’ll be really fun to wear black clothes with hair that’s browner and brighter.
K: That’s true, huh. It’ll change their impression on others.
A: So I guess, maybe a bright colour or something?
N: In my teens, I had hair about as long as Kashiyuka’s. But right now, I really feel like having a fringe again.
K: You haven’t had a fringe in some time huh.
A: Nocchimama has that hairstyle too. (Laughs)
N: Yeah, all of my female family members have started having that hairstyle.
K: Well, since everyone has more or less the same image, it probably looks good on everyone.


Takahashi Yuu: How do you keep the things you treasure?
N: Well I do have a treasured items box.
K&A: Me too.
N: With like our matching bracelets.
K: And straps.
A: And costumes, as well as letters from fans - as much as six boxes.
N: That’s amazing!
A: That’s why I keep mine above.
K: Ah, so you’re the above type? I’m the below type. The things I don’t have space for at home I leave at my parents’.
N: I guess I’m the below type too. But they’re all scattered about in various places.
A: Please keep them together! (Laughs)


Yuusuke Santamaria: What do guys do that make your hearts skip a beat?
N: I like nasally voices. Nasal inflammations are the best! So if we’re talking about actions, I like it when they cough. Like “eghem” or something.
A: Ain’t that no good! (Laughs)
K: I like it when they make a face like nothing’s happened after they almost fall. Like when they think no one saw, and without letting out their voice, they gaze off to the side.
A: Something that makes my heart skip a beat… The person I like!


MIKIKO: What are the moments that make you most happy for joining Perfume?
N: Though there a plenty, recently it’s been when we receive choreography from Sensei, and being able to dance that really cute choreography makes me go, “This is the best!”
K: For example, when we have our first lives at overseas locations, the moment we start, I often think, “Our dreams are coming true! Right now! Ah, I’m so glad that it’s the three of us, I’m so glad that it’s this team. There really isn’t any moment that’s happier than this!”
A: Yeah, I understand that. We get really nervous, right? But somehow, standing on stage, overcoming our nervous selves, being together with our precious comrades, and at the very end, we say “Well then, we’re Perfume! Thank you very much!” And then when we bow, I often think that I’m really glad to have joined Perfume. Like, nothing can replace that sense of accomplishment, and I can’t get enough of it.
N: It’s a bit complex, but I get it. And I’m sure Sensei thinks the same.


Miyagawa Daisuke: What are the parts about the others that you dislike, or wish would be changed?
N: Well, I mean it’s not like I wish for it to change, but if I had to say it, there is something… So A-chan likes to eat tasty things, but she has a small appetite, so when she gets full in the middle of a meal, she’ll become a little moody. The first bite is her peak, like “it tastes so goood!!”
All: (Laughs)
K: I also have something about A-chan.
A: Oh no! What could it be? Why is everyone choosing me? (Laughs)
K: It’s not like I dislike it or want it changed, so it’s like just some info, but there are times when she really gets into the choreography, and gets into a groove, and becomes unable to dance normally.
All: (Laughs)


Pornograffiti: What kind of house do you live in right now?
N: I’ve tried out various spacious floor plans, but the clutter began to build up, so now I’ve tightened it up.
A: You remodeled a lot huh.
N: I did. It’s left me worn out.
K: You threw away quite a lot of things, right?
N: Yeah.
A: All at once, right?
N: Yup.
A: As for me, my kitchen doesn’t have partitions to separate it from the rest of the living room, so I have to keep it clean. Other than that, the scenery is pretty.
K: Because it’s high up, huh.
A: Yeah.
N: Kashiyuka’s room is the probably the one I’ve seen the most photos of.
K: Ah, maybe so.
N: Inside anan (the magazine).
K: It’s scary how much of it is available to see. (Laughs)
A: She has plants, and she’s an animal person too. She really loves raising things. (Laughs)
K: Yeah, I have many living things.
N: If you look it up in anan you’ll probably more or less understand how it’s like. (Laughs)


Maeda Kenta: Do lives feel good?
A: Well, it feels suuuper great.
N: Feels suuuper great. Nothing can take its place.
K: I want to experience even more of it.


Chatmonchy: What kind of pajamas do you wear to sleep?
N: Recently, I’ve been wearing rompers, the one that look like a pair of shorts and a T-shirt joined together. The thin one.
K: I’m finally wearing the one I got from A-chan.
A: Really? I’m happy! The organic cotton one right?
K: I got it for my birthday but I thought I’d be too cold if I wore it in winter since it’s thin. So I’ve finally gotten to wearing it recently.
A: Recently I’ve been particular about the materials. To begin with I already have 80 or 90 sets, but I really really love pajamas, so there are times when I’ve bought one before I know it. Like, why’s this in my bag? (Laughs)


Maximum the Hormone: If you had to get a tattoo, what and where would you get it inked?
N: I think, I’d get something tattooed onto my scalp after shaving my hair.
K: How scary!
A: Wouldn’t that be troublesome for the tattoo artist? (Laughs)
K: I’d tattoo a triangle onto the back of my neck.
A: Ah! The fashionable sort.
K: If I got something like that, I wonder if it’d make feel like an android.
A: I can’t imagine it, but I like the kanji for strict (厳) because I think it’s the most balanced.
K: You’ve mentioned it before, huh. (Laughs)
A: Yeah. I’d tattoo that.


Manabe Daito: What’s the hardest challenge you’ve faced from using technology?
N: The pressure from Cannes was overwhelming, huh.
K: Yeah.
A: We had to wear the machinery on our shoulders for about an hour huh.
K: Yeah, on standby.
A: Yeah, after putting on the costumes and turning the switch on, the nervousness continued to build. Usually for our lives we put on our costumes right before the performance begins. But for Cannes, we didn’t know when our turn would come, and we didn’t know if we could smoothly put on the machinery, so we decided to get dressed earlier.
K: But overcoming that slow build-up was really fun, right? Like, the feeling of slowly getting closer to our goal was really enjoyable.
A: Yeah. That’s why we’d like to continue to challenge new things, so we’ll continue to await any new proposals too.
N: We’ll be in your care.


Seki Kazuaki: What MV(s) did you dislike filming?
A: Wasn’t the reverse playback really difficult?
K: That’s what I thought of too.
N: (Groans)
A: (Laughs) But, y'know, wasn’t Seki-san waiting for that answer?
K: All that hard work…
A: In the second chorus of Magic of Love, though it looks like we’re dancing normally, the truth is that we danced it in reverse.
K: From the way our hairs fly up, and the balls move backwards, you can tell that it was in reverse.
A: Yup yup. And the movements were a little weird too. (Laughs) That really was difficult..
N: We had to download a reverse playback application.
A: Yeah, and we recorded a lot with it, and because it was so difficult, we had to save all of it.
K&N: (Laughs)
A: And when we tried doing it for real it looked really bad.
K: We took quite a lot of takes huh. But it turned into an interesting MV, huh.
A&N: Yeah.
A: I really love that MV.


Notes from the Nakata interview
- It’s been about 14 years since they became acquainted. Nakata was about 22-23 at the time. Perfume were around 14-15.
- Nakata used to look much more like an uncle than he does now. His hair was short, and was blacker. He was wearing sunglasses too. It’s because he thoughts adults were cooler, so he wanted to look like one sooner.
- A-chan practiced hard to get the strange rhythm for Oishii Recipe down, but Nakata was very cold during the recording, which made her feel frustrated and tear a bit.
- Nakata talks about why he gets his vocalists to sit down while recording but I don’t really get what he means because it’s too abstract.
- Nakata uses auto-tune just because he thinks the songs would sound better and cooler with it.
- It’s not like Nakata has always had confidence in his music. But from some point, he began having confidence in the tracks he gives to Perfume.
- Computer City was the changing point in Perfume’s attitudes towards Nakata’s music. It was the song that made Perfume understand what Nakata was going for with his music. They brought the single’s poster to their high school to promote it. Before that, they used to be embarrassed about and keep quiet about their activities.
- Nakata has never told them, but he has always planned for their music to go in a cooler direction when they grew a little older. And looking back, they went in that direction earlier than he expected.
- The reason Nakata doesn’t really go to Perfume’s lives is because he doesn’t want it to change his impression of what songs he should be making for Perfume.
- Nakata thinks it’s important where a person is born, and he tries not to make music that can’t have its place of origin identified by the listener. So he doesn’t really go overseas much because he’s afraid of having his music sense changed.