golden-lounge

beauty and the beast | loki laufeyson

Fanfic Prompt List

@iwillbeinmynest: 25 with Loki?? If not, that’s totes cool. 😁

27. “I could tell it was your favorite book because of all the notes you wrote in the margins.”

Pairing: Loki Laufeyson x Reader

Word Count: 1,306 oops

Warnings: So much floof

A/N: This was set before the first Thor movie.

Tagging: @harleyquinnandscarletwitch @buckyappreciationsociety @rda1989 @milleniumxhan (Let me know if you want to be part of my permanent taglist or a certain taglist!)

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Masterlist


Originally posted by lokitty

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Bucky’s Girl |Series| 5/?

Originally posted by bartowskis

Summary: You’re dating Bucky Barnes, it’s good. It’s beautiful. Steve, his best friend has had a crush on you, wayy before Bucky returned. (Series)
Warnings: Angst/ inspired by that one story in Love Actually but kinda not/
Characters: Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson, Wade Wilson, Negasonic, Colossus, Tony Stark, Natasha Romanoff, Peter Parker & Sharon Carter.

Inspired by the song Jessie Girl - Rick Springfield

Part One * Part Two * Part Three * Part Four * Part Five



Originally posted by hopeinloveinfinity

“A stag party?” Bucky raised an eyebrow as he dodged a left hook from Sam, “Really? You want to host a bachelor party?” Steve refrained from a snappy comment, watching as Barnes and Wilson spared one another in the boxing ring.

Steve sighed. “I figured, why not? It will be fun, a guy’s weekend, we go to a bar and have a few drinks, play some darts; what could go wrong?”

“Sure, I’ll ask Y/N,” Bucky responded and Sam laughed, earning a punch to the jaw that he didn’t dodge in time. “We originally weren’t going to do the whole stag and hen parties, so I gotta inform her, maybe, get Nat to do something that night with her.”

Steve nodded, “I’ll go ask Nat, she’ll talk Y/N into having one.” He waved his friends off and headed towards Nat’s room that she had at the compound. Her room wasn’t far from the gym/ training area, she liked to be within range, early morning workout sessions and so forth. Her door was already opened; he knocked twice before he heard the quiet ‘come in’.

Nat’s room was tranquil and peaceful; it was entirely different to her. Her usual black and red aesthetic were replaced with white, pale blues and fluffy rugs. A whole wall was glass (that she could look out of but no one could see in.), it overlooked the forest that shielded this place. She had picture frames hanging on the walls, her and the Avengers, a few Polaroid’s of her and Clint’s kids. She had a bookshelf of poetry books, plus how to learn piano books, from what he could see she was also fond of the author Michelle Paver.

Natasha was sat on her bed, cream sheets that had a geometric pattern on it. Auburn hair pulled into a messy pony-tail, a blanket under her feet because she was painting toenails, she glanced up briefly before looking back at her toes and continuing to paint them a glossy red; her favourite colour.

“So, I know you didn’t want to be involved but I need a favour,” he smiled pleadingly and she exhaled softly; choosing not to look at him. “I’m gonna throw a stag party for Bucky this weekend, I need you to occupy Y/N time for that weekend, pleaseeeee.” He got on his knees beside her bed, resting his clasped hands on the comforter and pouted up at Nat.

She put the lid back on the nail polish, finally, looking at him as she did so. He watched her debate it over in her head, her green eyes narrowing before looking back at him. “Why couldn’t you love someone else?” That question threw him off, he rested his chin on the bed, knees starting to ache but he didn’t move and shrugged his shoulders in response. “I’ll do it, on one condition!”

Steve nodded, “Anything.”

“When this is all over,” Natasha began in a soft voice, placing a hand on top of Steve’s, “You ask them to move out of your apartment.” He sighed gently at that request, “you can’t live with a married couple, especially if you love one-half, and I ask this because I care about you and actually want what’s best.”

He nods slowly, “I promise.”

Stag Weekend- Day One

Mission: Show Bucky What He’ll Miss

“Las Vegas, Stevie?” Bucky asked in surprise as he looked at the aeroplane ticket, first class too, compliments of Tony; who was away on ‘business’ and couldn’t attend. “I thought we’d be going bar hopping in Brooklyn,” he chuckled with disbelief.

Steve winced slightly, “Well, it wasn’t entirely my idea.” He truthfully admitted, Bucky looked up and frowned before sighing, Steve felt an arm wrap around his shoulders and he knew it was Wade; from the smell of spicy food, gunpowder and… strawberries?

“Strawberry flavoured lube it’s a godsend.” Was the first thing to sprawl out of the man’s mouth, he still had the Deadpool suit on, a Hawaiian shirt over the top and khaki shorts. “So, there’s the groom, long time Buckaroo.”

Bucky glared from Wade to Steve. “You invited Pool, really?” Steve shrugged, “we better not be robbing banks or killing people, I expect good ole’ drinking, no strippers or prostitutes.” He warned.

Wade held up his hands, “Hey, there are children present.” He pointed to Negasonic, she was busy typing on her phone and not looking up; black leather jacket and shades. “I’m babysitting for the weekend while tin-man is away,” Wade informed.

Instead of answering both Bucky and Sam turned away, walking towards the gate where the plane is taking off. Wade, Steve and Negasonic followed.

“Did you pack it?” Wade asked as they sat down in their respected seats.

“Of course, I’m not an idiot. It was hard getting into Tony’s stash but I got it,” referring to the Asgardian liquor that Thor left behind. It was the only stuff strong enough to get Steve and Bucky drunk, they’d need it for the plan to work.

The plane journey was short but silent, Bucky was still upset that Wade is coming and Sam knew something was going down. They got to Caesars Palace, penthouse suit, all courtesy of Stark. They watched as Negasonic walked off to a room, shutting the door with a slam and turning on music loudly.

“She’s in Las Vegas and she wants to listen to death metal, where did I go wrong?” Wade asked placing his hands on his hips, “Okie dokie, folks. We got exactly one hour till happy hour down in the VIP Lounge, freshen up, you too Birdie.” Wade walked off to his respected room, leaving Steve to face his two pissed best friends.

Steve sighed. “Wade is actually okay when you get to know him,” he tried but earned an eye roll from Sam who sat on the sofa, Bucky crossed his arms. “The only person I knew would make this weekend fun was Wade; I’ve had some great nights with the guy, give him a chance?”

“Fine.” Bucky sighed, “What could possibly go wrong?”

**

“Steve where the hell is Bucky?” Sam asked above the music blasting in the small VIP lounge, dancers, mostly half naked females, all grinding on the small dance floor.

Steve looked around, a little tipsy himself; he couldn’t see the familiar frame of his best friend. Last time he saw him… he was at the bar, watching as Steve got dragged away to dance, he seemed to be having a good time, laughing and drinking at the expense of his friends. Wade wasn’t anywhere in view either, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration for a brief moment.

“Oh shit!” Steve yelled and ran out of the lounge, Sam following closely behind. “Crap, I can’t believe I let myself get side-tracked,” he mumbled to himself as he walked to the elevator.

“What’s happening?” Sam asked as they stepped into the elevator.

Steve sighed and looked at Sam.

Two Hours Before

“Steve, I’ve got a really good idea.” Wade grins widely at the man, “So, I know you said no hookers but I called in a favour and she’s willing to entice Barnes into sleeping with her; wedding will be called off for sure.” Steve frowned.

Steve had already had a few pre-drinks, Sam’s idea for having to deal with Wade for the weekend. He was about to decline when Bucky rounded the corner, a little tipsy and holding some Asgardian liquor, he wrapped an arm around Wade.

“Man, you’re ugly,” Steve snickered at that as Wade rolled his eyes at the soldier.

“Buckaroo, a friend of mine is coming to see you, her name is Crystal, and you want to see her?” Wade asked in a sickly sweet voice. Bucky shrugged with a sluggish smile, Wade looks at Steve with a winner smile before taking the metal arm off of his neck. “I’ll go pick her up, meet in the Golden VIP Lounge.”

Now

“Wait, wait, hold on,” Sam held his hands up and turned to face Steve. “Wade hired a hooker friend to seduce Bucky and you didn’t stop him?” He asked with mistrust.

Steve scratched the back of his neck out of nerves. “I didn’t really comprehend what he was getting her for till now.” Steve sighed, “The whole plan was to get Bucky drunk, show him how much fun he’ll be missing out on, maybe, even talk him out of it whilst he is drunk.” Steve shrugged, missing the look of utter horror on Sam’s face.

“Do you even hear yourself right now?” Sam demanded; Steve glanced at him. “Seriously, Steve, this is unhealthy. If I knew this was the real reason for this weekend I wouldn’t have come along, I may not be Bucky’s biggest fan, but this is low. No wonder you’ve been hanging with Wade, he’s encouraging this behaviour.” Sam reprimanded his friend, Steve refrained from eye rolling.

“You sound just like Nat,” he muttered under his breath but Sam heard, opting to not answer instead cross his arms. The elevator doors open, faint music playing and Wade sat on the sofas with Negasonic, both watching TV some reality show.

Wade turns his head to meet Steve and Sam’s gaze; he nods to the room where a door is shut. Steve instantly stalks to the door, pushing it open, prepared to see a horrible situation. Instead, it was Bucky, head in the hookers lap, crying as she petted his hair. She was young, looked uncomfortable with the situation, Steve smiled awkwardly at her.

“Hey, I’ve got it from here, thanks for your time.” Steve offered, helping lift Bucky’s head off of her, she muttered a thank you, grabbing a leather jacket and her heels before silently leaving the room and closing the door. “Hey, buddy, what’s the matter?”

Bucky sniffs loudly, sitting up and wiping his eyes with his metal hand, then crying all over again when he sees the shiny metal. “We’re supposed to be dead, did you know that? We should be dead right now, instead you’re Captain America and I have a metal arm,” he cried silently, Steve raises his eyebrows, not sure what to make a sad, drunk, James.

“Yeah, it’s great.” Steve offers, “We’re back together, best friends, we have good lives and we both get second chances.”

It’s silent for a long while, Steve’s arm wrapped around Bucky, mostly to keep him sitting up straight. “I always thought you’d be married first, even back then,” Bucky mutters and Steve frowns. “Yeah, you were small but you had a big heart and it wouldn’t have taken long for a dame to notice that. Peggy did.” Bucky sighs lightly, staring off at a wall. “Then we come to this century, I figured you would have found someone, thought it was Natalia for a while, even Y/N, but yet, here we are.” He smiles and chuckles despite himself.

Steve looked at the carefree smile on his best friends face. He looked at ease, no stress or something lurking behind the eyes, there was a glimmer of his past self, that easy going Barnes that Steve longed to see most days.  

(Let me know what you think of this part. It’s a little longer than most of the other parts. Worked really hard on this, also planned the ending, so all goes well this could be ending soon… not that anyone wants to hear that. - Rosalie)

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Bucky’s Girl Tag list: @adarkcloud @awinterloveuniverse @buckys-baby  @ijustwanttobepartofyourworld @johnnnmurphy @mags-moore @specs15  @litterally-trash @stressed-depressed-bandobsessed @yknott81 @brooke-supernatural16 @xxchexchickxx @hellkat2 @snuggleducky @inked-petals @agentmstark @fearthedietcoke @marvelgoateecollection @liajiah @ijustwanttobepartofyourworld @johnnnmurphy @mags-moore @specs15@stress-depressed-bandobsessed @brooke-supernatural16 @yknott81 @noeypiiepiie @multifandom-states @sgt-jbb-107 @noir-agneau @litterally-trash @i-had-a-life-once

Where Ryan and Gavin are a package deal before the FAHC

They’re a marauding rumour, notorious from coast to coast, the Vagabond and the Golden Boy; names that taste like blood. They drift from place to place in patterns no one else can predict, taking jobs that catch their fancy, leaving ruined bodies in their wake.

The Vagabond is the mercenary, oversized and unforgiving, a masterclass in brutal power. There are people who kill and then there are killers, and the Vagabond has never once implied that he didn’t enjoy his job. His disguise has become an icon, instantly recognised by any in the know, a shorthand imagine for grisly ends. The mere presence of the Vagabond sends a shot of dread into even the most experienced of adversaries, primal fear born from a flawless record, from his relentless drive and unmatched talent, from the way death bares its teeth behind his eyes. Only one has laughed in the face of the mercenary and lived to tell the tale, fondly and at great length.

The Golden Boy is the talker, the charmer, the irrepressible deal maker. He is blinding smiles and quick fingers, pretty knives and prettier lies. Getting into his good graces is a boon of untold fortune, but falling from them is a curse few survive. The Golden Boy’s shine covers a dark streak, an edge of something deeply wicked and always amused coated in false sweetness, in bubbling laughter and fickle affections, in deceptively clean hands. Smarter than he’ll ever let on the Golden Boy is always presented exactly how he means to be, exactly how he needs to be, and no one sees even a flicker of emotion he doesn’t intend. It’s easy to see his name in the visible affinity for precious metals but it’s more than just that; the boy is walking fortune, a well of good luck and perfect timing that never seems to run dry - like everything he touches turns to gold.

It’s an unusual partnership, their differences almost perfectly symmetrical; the shadow and the sun, the apparition and the vision, the reaper and the siren song. Cold apathy and vicious elation; a mask to hide emotion and emotions used as a mask. Alone they’d each be dangerous, together they are an unstoppable force.

Not that people haven’t tried. Not when they’ve made so many enemies, when the bounty on their heads could buy small countries and they serve no one but themselves. And each other. Their only perceivable failing, that inexplicable devotion, adoration between monsters. It’s not hard to spot, the ineffable way they’re linked together, a fond affection beyond any business-only partnership. It’s visible in the handles of Ryan’s knives, elaborately gilded in gold despite the utilitarian matte black of all his guns. In the medallion Gavin never takes off, differentiated from his other jewellery by the intricate engraving of a distinctive skull. In the way they look at each other, the way they talk to each other, the way they’ve both given up the protection of hardened self-interest in favour of vicious loyalty. Emotions so wildly out of place and yet even this is not the weak link it should be;  the two are rarely separated and never out of contact, responding to threats against each other with a far greater degree of horrifying retribution than is ever afforded to a threat against them both.

So many have tried and failed to understand their dynamic, attempting to pick it apart and unravel hidden weakness. Countless numbers who think the solution is to kill one, or the other; who’ve somehow gotten it into their heads that either the Vagabond or the Golden Boy is more valuable and the other is merely dead weight, easily replaced.  

There are those who claim the Golden Boy is the Vagabond’s pet; pretty and pampered and merely tolerated by the assassin, more temporary appeal than true partner. Those are the one’s who’ve seen Ryan huff long suffering sighs as Gavin grows restless, seen him adopt the tone of a frustrated parent speaking to an unruly child as he demands patience, wraps commands in condescending endearments only to crumble into indulgent acquiescence in the face of exaggerated insult. Who’ve seen Gavin spin traps out of words then fade into the background while Ryan does the heavy work, turning his nose up at blood and lamenting ruined clothing.

There are those who claim the Vagabond is the Golden Boy’s dog; boorish and fierce and above all obedient. Those are the ones who’ve seen Gavin command Ryan with a flick of his fingers, slink around the edges as his bidding was done and offer crooning praise when a bloody head is dropped at his feet. Who’ve seen the sharp violence of Gavin’s mind, the way he pushes for slower and crueler and more entertaining; seen how the Vagabond watches him with adoration in his eyes; a rabid animal tame only in the presence of a master with equally sharp teeth.

Ramsey is one of the few to see them as they truely are. To understand that neither rumour was true, that both were, that power flowed equally between the pair and neither could for one moment be thought useless without the other. To see that their connection was less weakness than it was violent strength, and realise that being forcibly separated would only make them infinitely more volatile. Ramsey noticed it all, and he wanted. He schemed. He sent out feelers, hints and suggestions and little incentives. An invitation in blood and gold and wicked chaos. In the only language they speak.

When the Vagabond and the Golden Boy sweep into town Los Santos goes still, holds its breath, prays to be forgotten. They’re not exactly trying to be subtle, stories pop up all over the city, a nightmare of violent shadows and polished gold but they don’t seek him out, so Geoff waits. Patient despite the way his hair stands on end, the way the back of his neck itches and he’s deafened by the relentless ticking of his own watch.  

It’s less surprising than it should be when they appear in the penthouse unannounced; they were invited after all, in a manor of speaking, and Geoff, ever the good host, narrowly prevents his growing crew from launching into a firefight he’s not entirely confident they’d win. The Vagabond looms, cold and unrelenting, demanding answers with tangible menace. The Golden Boy lounges, smirk as lazy as his eyes are sharp, all obnoxious comments and negligible threat. It’s a test. Geoff Passes.

Just at the Right Time

Rating- General Audiences
Fandom- RuPaul’s Drag Race RPF
Relationship- Trixie Mattel/Katya Zamolodchikova
Characters- Trixie MattelKatya, Zamolodchikova, Detox Icunt, Alyssa Edwards, Ginger Minj, Alaska Thunderfuck 5000
Additional Tags- Love Confessions, Homesickness

The moment that Katya was sitting in the Golden Lounge, she let out a sigh of relief. Her body was aching from the runway and her head feeling compressed by her tight blonde wig.

Detox moved around the room gathering two drinks (non-alcoholic of course). Smiling quickly at Alyssa she made to sit next to the Russian queen. “We’re in the home stretch mama.” She said with a smile handing Katya her drink.

Katya smiled back appreciating the effort the man in drag was giving. If only it had been someone else giving her such words of encouragement; maybe she would believe them. When she was already halfway done with her drink Ginger had decided to see what was in the pink fuzzy box.

“Oh gurl! Let’s see what they got in store for us tonight!” Alyssa exclaimed.

Alaska laughed softly before speaking in her long drawn out voice. “I’m not drunk enough for this!” She said.

Detox laughed out loud, thinking back when she was in season five. If only she had a good strong drink back then, maybe she would have actually done better. Ru Paul knows how stressed the completion could get.

The Russian queen would have been content just sitting there watching as the other queens either bickered or laughed. That was until Ginger began to read out the pink card.

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Foreseer (LetoJoker)

AN: Firstly Hi! How’s things? Secondly, this is actually an OC. Basically me and my brother are collabing on this project and she is my contribution, but J would love her so I had to do this. I have left out all identifying features so that you can fully immerse yourself in it, but PLEASE let me know what you think of her as it would be super, super helpful! Anyways enjoy!!

While Mr J is away, Frost is left to deal with business, at a loss for what to do he involves the one person Mr J may just kill him over.

Warnings; swearing, blood, mild sexual content, casual murder, guns. If I missed anything lemme know and i’ll update this.

Word Count; 4,601 (i’m not even gonna apologise for this one)


(Frost POV)
Frost sighed frustrated with the situation he had found himself in. Rubbing at his temples vehemently, scheming to find a way that this could end in his boss’s favour.  Irritated he loosened his tie, violently tugging at the material in an effort to ease some of the stress.

He was pacing his boss’s office in the man’s insanely lavish home, knowing that he shouldn’t be in there, fully taking advantage of his rank in the boss’s absence. It was the only place he could think clearly everywhere he turned there was more questions.

To top it off the Queen was growing impatient by the hour, and God help the poor soul who angered the Queen.

His racing mind kept coming back to one conclusion his eyes darting around the expansive office, compiled of dark woods and burgundy rugs hoping that there would be some other way.

The room much like him, had seen its fair share of violence at the hand of the criminally insane clown he was so devoted to, and he let out a silent prayer that he wouldn’t be the focus of such violence when the boss man found out.
                                                           —
(Her POV)
She sat adorned in golden chains and rings, some of them she had stolen from J’s closet, but it wasn’t like he was wearing them anytime soon.

She was wrapped in a silky white blazer, again belonging to Mr J, which hugged her in all the right places. The flesh beneath the blazer completely bare except for her ink and her chains, seen only through a plunging neck line that would make Satan himself blush. It was held in place by a chunky black leather belt adorned with a shiny golden jester.

Her signature black leather booty shorts became visible as she threw her legs over the side of the golden throne she was lounging on.

His throne.

She was glaring down upon the dancing crowd in her lovers club. Hidden in shadows watching each and every one of them assessing them as her eyes roamed, looking for the weak and exploitable. Smirking to herself as she watched Frost greeting a couple of men by the bar, he fixed them with a cool glare as he waited for them both to follow him through to hi- her booth.

The deck of cards in her hands she shuffled expertly, not even having to focus on her movements. The action grounding her and helping her focus.

As she stood she caught sight of her reflection in one of the many mirrors around Mr J’s booth. He was a vain man but, a man with so much power over one city could afford to be. She narrowed her eyes at her outfit choice, she shouldn’t have worn white.

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