i went dancing for the first time in like two months

“ My aunt also had a girlfriend. Supposedly this aunt swore to me in my cradle that I would turn out like her. Even as a child I preferred pants and a boy’s haircut. I didn’t want to wear dresses and skirts. When I first started working at AOK, I had to run errands and get files from the basement. There was always a group of women in the basement sitting, singing, and dancing with each other; I’ve always loved to dance. Sometimes they had a bottle and we drank a bit. It was there that I saw Hilde Berghausen, and I thought to myself “Gee, you could fall for that Hilde!” But I still didn’t really know why. Hilde was older than me; I was fifteen and she was twenty or twenty-one. Once she invited me home with her; I went with her—brought a pounding heart and a bouquet from our garden with me. Her parents were on vacation. We were talking and she asked me if I had a girlfriend. “Of course. Herta, my friend from school.” “There are two kinds of girlfriends.” “What do you mean, two kinds? I really love Herta!”

[…] I started going to the clubs and got to know everything around 1931, when I was fifteen. Back then, before Hitler came to power, we had a lot of clubs. For example, at the Andreas Festival Theater on Andreas Street there was a ball once a month. Through the Magic Flute, I joined a lesbian bowling club, “The Funny Nine”, which was led by Lieschen and her girlfriend Gertrud. We went bowling once a week, and once a month we rented a really big room in a dance hall on Landsberger Street. It was really nice, young and old together, fifty- to sixty-year-olds, the rest around twenty, and I was always the youngest. Later, after 1933, the proprietors–they were Nazi supporters–they stopped renting to us. Lieschen, who was in her sixties then, said “Let’s just forget this club.” And so we just forgot about it. I also went to the Monocle Bar…I still remember a lot of women who frequented that club. But they closed the Monocle Bar in 1933.

[…] When I went back home after the Labor Service, my mother found out, since all my girlfriends had written to me. I had stolen chocolate and cigarettes—we had everything in the restaurant—and I sent all my sweethearts little packages and they wrote, “My dear little Johnny-mouse, thanks so much for the wonderful package. I’m lying on my bed smoking a cigarette from you and I think of you always. Oh, I wish you were still here with me!” When my mother saw all the letters she thought “Oh my goodness, that isn’t normal; there’s something not right here.” Every day four or five letters arrived.

[…After the official ban on homosexual clubs,] outside it always said “Private Party.” You had to ring a bell and she only let in people she wanted. In 1941 there was also a very nice club on Hoch Street… but that one closed suddenly too. Even during the Nazi period there were always clubs you could go to, but they always disappeared again after a while. After 1938 there were more and more raids. If we went to one and it was closed, then we didn’t know what had happened. Before the war, Lotte Hahm had also opened a place, at Alexanderplatz in the teacher’s association building on the second floor. There used to be a dance café there. Lotte Hahm had rented it and organized ladies’ nights there. But that didn’t last very long either. […] I knew that Lotte Hahm served time in jail for seduction of a minor. That’s just nonsense; I’d never believe that about her. It was just a pretext. Then I heard that she was supposedly in a concentration camp. She really had disappeared from the face of the earth for years, so that must be true.

[…] Margot and [her girlfriend Hildegard, aka] Peter, both lived with Lissy, a woman like us who still lived at home and had already hidden one Jew, also one of us. Margot was in hiding there and Peter lived there officially. […] All of a sudden [the Gestapo] came from Gesundbrunnen Station. I said to Margot, “Don’t even bother going home; come with me.” She stayed with me at least three to six months. I had a one-room apartment. We only went outside in the dark at night; she had to get some fresh air. I had really nice neighbors who didn’t support Hitler at all. Our landlady was Jewish; the landlord wasn’t, but because they were married—a so-called privileged mixed marriage—he had been able to save her. The Jewish woman was really great; she tolerated our having girlfriends, that is, this homosexuality. She was the only one who knew I had hidden Margot. The neighbors didn’t know; I never would have said anything. Back then children even denounced their own parents.
[…] One evening we were at Vineta Square again and a woman from the house saw her. Margot hadn’t noticed that she was being watched. The Russians were already in Berlin, but there was still a lot of shooting. The next day the Gestapo came again—to me this time. If they had gotten her then, they would have shot her. Of course, they would have shot me too. But Margot wasn’t there; she was upstairs at Hanni’s—also one of us… When they came to check on me, I simply said “I don’t know any Margot” and they were finished with me. It was May, right before the war ended. ”

—Anneliese W. (1916-1995), from Claudia Schoppmann’s Days of Masquerade: Life Stories of Lesbians During the Third Reich

“make the princess speak and you will have the crown of kings.”

my knees hurt, as usual, from scrubbing. technically i’m too high of Maid Station to help out with these things, but i like seeing what happens when you clean. the development of things. how a lot of effort can make something. i like learning and trying and working hard to get towards something.

and i’ve seen them, from the back of pillars, from behind cracked doors, from beside her (on the best days) the way they talk to her. oh beautiful won’t you just look at me. oh darling. if you speak i’ll be your prince. if you speak i’ll be your king. 

the princess, i know, finds the lines of suitors boring. it’s in the way her hands are always moving. she hides yawns, leaves early, we make her apologies. once, a man comes and tries to startle her into screaming. she rolls her eyes and looks directly at me. i have to hide my smile behind my sleeve. he is taken away while still screaming.

by accident, i find her once, crying. when we imagine princesses, they always cry daintily. hers is hoarse, angry, and something in it breaks me. in my station i should apologize and bow and leave. instead i am frozen, watching her shoulders heaving.

she looks up and spots me, her cheeks ruddy. i know i should go but instead i make a big show. i act as one of her princes. i make grand gestures and speak in deep voices. i frantically offer her handkerchiefs and trip over my own two feet. a smile crawls up over her, slowly. i dab my sweat away and offer her the used rag. i feign a fluster, turn a terrible cartwheel, make shadow puppets. the sound of her laugh, raw and rusty, sends shivers through me.

for a while, i do not see her after this. but then i am called to her chambers. she is crying again. i offer silly gifts, pebbles and dusting rags and a candlestick from her own kitchen, pretend to steal it, use it as a hat, rock it as a babe. she laughs more easily this time, gladly, and when she laughs i am taken by more important maids, thereby officially Excused.

it goes like this for months. the winter comes. i rarely see her. i spend my week thinking about ways to please her. i knick interesting cookies, show her shiny buttons, learn to cartwheel in a full skirt, and then promptly how to make it look foolish again. i learn how to juggle hot bread and dance as a man would, i learn how to balance on a ball and how to fall down without hurting myself, how to fake a fight with my own body, which colors she likes and which don’t please her.

i show up on a cold eve with a knotted line of scarves hidden down my sleeve, worried and breathless, wondering why she’s been crying. the door opens and she is sitting there, happy. at first i’m confused, but she waves me in. next to her is her small dessert, in two containers. i’m not sure how to respond, so i fake a fall to hear her laugh, and then sit at her feet. she gives me ice cream - so rare a treat. i know what went into making it - the hours of shaking. it’s smooth and tasty. i don’t feign my reaction, but she laughs anyway, kindly. 

it goes like this. i see her more frequently. she likes giving me new things, watching me discover i hate kiwi and love oranges and would die if it made her laugh breathlessly. i’ve made her keel over with cackling and she’s put a fire in me. sometimes we just sit there, quietly, enjoying each other’s company. 

it’s in her hands, always moving. little things i thought were just her, fidgeting. here’s how she says she’s thirsty, this is what her hands do when she needs a second to think, here’s how she shows she’s happy. this is how i learn to speak back to her. around her i spend much of my time smiling. i feel every visit is a gift. a new part to unravel. i find out she doesn’t respond to spoken things, that she needs to be looking in order to know you were speaking. sometimes she has me talk and she holds her hands to the base of my throat, her eyes wide and wondering. sometimes she just looks at me and i forget that i’m her jester in chief. i get caught up in her eyes, in how expressive they are when she’s happy, in how when she’s sad i feel like i’m drowning.

i never see the king or queen, but i know when she’s had a visit with them, because she never comes back happy. two winters i have known her, two winters and now we dine frequently. i am often called to stand beside her, to whisper translations of her desires into the ears of someone more important than i, someone who gets to be the voice of royalty. i can’t decide if i’m her friend or her plaything, but i don’t know i care much of the distinction. every moment i’m near her is a moment free of friction. i take stock of suitors and curtsy to them in daylight only to mock them in the candle’s eye later.

she asks me one night to stay. it has been a bad day. it’s completely not okay. i cannot say no but i cannot, by my station, stay. but she begs with her eyes and her hands and i know i’ll take the punishment. 

we lie beside each other. i make sure to turn to her when i speak. in the dark she can’t see me, so i move my hands in the way i’m learning. she asks if i am ever lonely. i cannot tell her that i am always lonely without her beside me, so instead i say i think all people are very lonely and just are pretending. she laughs a little at that and says she thinks her parents are the two most lonely people that ever met. her mother was like her; broke a fairy curse and talked, just once, although nobody knows what she said. well, excepting her father, who was the only one around, and who won her hand in marriage.

from her mother she learned the art of hands, of speaking without words - from her father she learned that who she was included a curse. that she just wanted someone who would make her open like a rose - someone who could fix her. how she stared out into the royal garden and wished on flowers to be what her kingdom needs.

she fell asleep pressed against me. i couldn’t breathe. i was still awake in the morning. 

the punishment never came. we spent nights like this. the handmaidens had grown to know me. whenever their princess was stubborn, i worked magic and made her lovely.

it was a terrible thing. i did too good a job, i think. the princess glowed too much or shone too brightly - or at least, i saw it that way, so who knows what the truth is. every day it felt like we were being rushed with princes. 

her father’s temper at hosting failed. it was the day before her twenty-first birthday and first time i’d ever seen him. he stormed in at the end of the session. “just speak!” he said, “it’s not that hard! do for others what your mother did!” 

“tomorrow is your last day of this,” he warned her, “either you pick a prince or i pick for you. i’m done with it.”

he stormed off. she was left shellshocked and trembling. that night she didn’t ask me to come, but i waited outside, just in case she changed her mind. i understood why she needed space. either she’d speak and be married tomorrow or she’d be married shortly. i heard her crying and it took everything in my power not to rush in and hold her, cradle her gently. but i cannot come into a room of a royal person without being invited. i stayed there, tears in my own eyes, thinking of treason.

the next day was a huge festival. what had been a birthday celebration was turned into a day about princes. i watched her shake her head. i tried to cheer her up. i tried everything. i frequently came inches from causing public humiliation, toed the line of mocking and failing to acknowledge my station. she wouldn’t smile. not once. not even for anything.

the day was long. the bonfire wore down. i watched her crumple into herself. i was out of ideas. i knelt at her feet. her eyes barely looked at me. just wait, i said to her with my hands, i’ll be right back. i took off running.

the price of stealing is losing my hands. these things that i spoke to her with. these things that mattered so much to me, that helped with my comedy and cleaning. 

i didn’t think of them. i bloodied my fingers when i ripped the royal roses from their stems. and then i ran, as fast as i could, back to her feet. i picked them to show you, i said, as she gasped, looking at my treason, they’re beautiful and nobody told them to open to reveal their secrets to the bees. they are unbroken. as you are. as you always will be. 

she fell off her throne and for a second i was beyond speaking, worried something had happened, or she’d fainted, or i’d said the wrong thing. but then she was on her knees, her arms around me, and i heard it. i heard the soft croak of her speaking. just one word, and it sent shivers down me. my name, in her voice, awkward and unwieldy, but full of love and passion, burning fire through me.

i felt a hand on my shoulder. i was pulled away from her. they already had me in handcuffs while i struggled to get back to her, to tell her i loved her, to beg her to run off with me or maybe just hold me around her, maybe just have her for a moment, because i couldn’t live without her for a moment longer.

they put me in the cells. i rotted in there, for a while or for no time at all, i’m not sure. the thorns scarred my palms. i watched the scabs build up and flake off. every time someone came down, i flinched, wondering if i would be the next to be taken and chopped into bits.

but one day the light was different. not the smoky torch of the jailer, instead a bright light in a lantern. at first when i saw her, my breath caught in my throat, mistaking her for my princess.

but she was my queen. at first we stood in silence. and slowly, i moved my hands to speak. is she married? is what came out, even though i should be more worried about me myself and me.

she is not. she bit her father on the arm when he tried to make her. then she fought him. and then ran away. it took us a bit to find her, i’m afraid. she threatened her own life and the life of everyone in this place. the queen was smiling. i was told there was a young woman who could make the princess speak, whom she would die to save, who brought roses to her feet. someone in a cell, rotting. are you her?

the memory of her voice rang through me. i’m she.

yes, her hands said, for even now, aren’t you speaking to the silent Queen?

she opened the door. come, she said, let’s get you cleaned up for the ceremony.

the crown of kings. when she wraps her arms around my neck and laughs next to me, i am royalty. when she smiles or makes a joke or asks to see my cartwheel again, i’m lost in her. i kiss her whenever i can, which is often. we have roses in a vase at the base of our bed, and for all of the kingdom, i’d give my hands if it would keep her laughing.

the next time she spoke was just once, at our wedding, where she said the two words i do to bind us for eternity. she had learned from me, from holding her hands over my voicebox, the way i learned from her how to use hands to speak. sometimes at night she says my name, just because she likes what it does to me.

i’m more blessed than a king. every day i spend with her is a day i spend happily. 

Tom and Lin-Manuel: An Appreciation/Jealous Rant

Every writer has a golden period – a chunk of time when her brain is ripest, when the veins he is tapping are the richest, when the ideas, big and small, spill out over the sides of the bucket instead of having to be patiently collected like drops of rain off a leaf. This is true for songwriters, playwrights, novelists, screenwriters, anyone who writes anything in any genre. Go look at John Hughes’s IMDb page and marvel at his golden period, which I would bookend as 1983-1990. It’s outrageous. He wrote Vacation, Mr. Mom, Sixteen Candles, The Breakfast Club, Weird Science, Pretty in Pink, Ferris Bueller’s Day Off, Some Kind of Wonderful, Planes, Trains, and Automobiles, Uncle Buck, and Home Alone in eight years. Eight years?! That’s absurd.

But then look at his next 20 years. You won’t find one movie that is better than the worst one he wrote in those seven years. The vein ran dry. It always does. That’s just the deal.

Tom Petty’s golden period never ended. Or, at least, the silver periods on either side of his golden period were seemingly infinite. No matter where you think he peaked – Full Moon Fever, or Wildflowers, or Damn the Torpedoes – the decades on either side were wonderful. He was great from the moment he released his first album in 1977 to the day he died last month. For forty years he wrote, and wrote, and wrote, and the songs he wrote were good or great or amazing.

Tom Petty wrote “Breakdown” and “American Girl” in 1977. He wrote “You Don’t Know How it Feels” seventeen years later, in 1994. He wrote “You Got Lucky” in 1982, “King’s Highway” in 1992, “The Last DJ” in 2002. He wrote “I Won’t Back Down,” “Runnin’ Down a Dream,” Free Fallin’,” “Love is a Long Road,” “A Face in the Crowd,” Yer So Bad,” and “The Apartment Song,” and “Depending on You,” all in 1989, and they were all on the same album, and that’s absurd.

He wrote “Stop Draggin’ My Heart Around” in 1981 and “Big Weekend” in 2006. He wrote every song on Wildflowers – and they are all great – in or around 1994. He wrote fifty other great songs I haven’t named yet, like “Don’t Come Around Here No More” and “Jammin Me.” He wrote great songs you’ve heard a million times, and great songs you’ve maybe never heard, like “Billy the Kid” (1999) and “Walls” (1996) which was buried on the soundtrack to She’s the One.  He took a break from the Heartbreakers and casually released “End of the Line” and “Handle With Care” and “She’s My Baby” with the Traveling Wilburys in 1989-90. He wrote “Refugee” in 1980 and “I Should Have Known It” in 2010. Is there any rock and roll songwriter alive who wrote two songs that good, 30 years apart? (Paul McCartney wrote “Hey Jude” in 1968, and only 12 years later he wrote “Wonderful Christmas Time,” which is so bad it nearly retroactively undid “Hey Jude.”)

He wrote about rock and roll things, like ’62 Cadillacs, getting out of this town, and dancing with Mary Jane. He wrote about love and loss and heartbreak. He wrote legitimately funny jokes, and moribund memories, and personal narratives, and imaginative flights of fancy. One of his characters calls his father his “old man” and it somehow isn’t cheesy. He was from Florida and California and wrote about both of them, and every time I’m on Ventura Boulevard I think of vampires, because the images he wrote are indelible. 

Petty didn’t just write songs directed at women, like most rock stars. He wrote about women, and he wrote for women, and he wrote with women. He treated the women in his songs as lovingly and respectfully as he treated the men. He cared about them as much, he spent as much time thinking about them, and he liked them as much, and all of that is rare.

He wrote simply, but not boringly. He made his characters three-dimensional, somehow, in a matter of seconds. There’s a famous (probably apocryphal) story about Hemingway bragging he could write an entire novel in six words, then writing: “For sale: baby shoes, never worn.” I prefer the 18-word novel Petty wrote as the first verse to “Down South” –

Headed back down south
Gonna see my daddy’s mistress
Gonna buy back her forgiveness
Pay off every witness

When I was working on Parks and Recreation, whenever we needed a song to score an important moment in Leslie Knope’s life, we chose a Tom Petty song. It started with “American Girl,” when her biggest career project came to fruition. It was “Wildflowers” when she said goodbye to her best friend. It was “End of the Line” at the moment the show ended. For the seven seasons of our show, Tom Petty was the writer we trusted to explain how our main character was feeling, because he wrote so much, so well, for so long.

*******

It seems like a joke, Hamilton – a joke in a TV show where one of the characters is a struggling New York actor, and is always dragging his friends to his terrible plays. Like Joey in Friends. There’s an episode of Friends where Joey is in a terrible musical called like Freud!, about Sigmund Freud, and you get to see some of it, and it’s predictably terrible. Freud! the musical is arguably a better idea than Hamilton the musical.

I’m far from the first person to say this – I’m probably somewhere around the millionth person to write about Hamilton, and the maybe 500,000th to make this particular point, but it needs to be said – a hip-hop Broadway musical about the founding fathers is an astoundingly terrible idea. Lin-Manuel Miranda should never have written it. As soon as he started to write it, he should’ve said to himself, “What the fuck am I doing?!” and stopped. And after he got halfway through, he should’ve junked it, gotten really drunk, and moved on with his life, and made his wife and friends swear to never mention the weird six months where he was trying to write a hip-hop musical about Alexander Hamilton. I literally guarantee you that when Lin-Manuel Miranda first told his friends what he was writing, every one of them reacted with at best a frozen smile, and at worst a horrified recoiling. Some of them might have been outwardly encouraging – “sounds awesome bud! Go get ‘em!” But then later, alone, they would call each other and say What the fuck is he doing?

There is a moment, in Hamilton, when what you are watching overwhelms you. (It’s not the same moment for everyone, but most everyone has one, I suspect.) It’s the moment when the enormity, the complexity, the meaning of it, the entirety of it, overpowers you, and you realize that what you are experiencing is new – new both in your specific life, and new, like, on Earth.  The first time I saw it, that moment was a line in the middle of “Yorktown.” Hamilton sang the line And so the American experiment begins / With my friends all scattered to the winds, and I burst into tears in a way I hadn’t since I was 10 and a baseball went through a guy’s legs in the World Series. Something about how casually he says that – And so the American experiment begins – just settled over me, like a collapsing tent, and this thing I was watching wasn’t in front of me, it was everywhere around me, and it was exhilarating and transformative.

(If I could put this part in a footnote, I would, but I don’t know how to, so: I should mention that I am very far from a musical theater aficionado. I have seen maybe eight musicals in my life. Not only did I not expect to cry, hard, during Hamilton, I did not expect to enjoy it. I saw it like a week after it opened on Broadway, kind of on a whim, knew nothing about it, and the last thing I said to my wife, as the lights went down, was: “We’ll leave at intermission.”)

The second time I saw it, that moment came much earlier (I knew what I was getting into, this time, so I was more ready to be subsumed). It came barely three minutes in, when the entire cast of the show, in a piece of choreography that can best be referred to as “badass,” all walk down to the very front of the stage and stand, shoulder to shoulder, and sing very loudly about how Alexander Hamilton never learned to take his time. The cast has, to this point, trickled on stage, slowly, one by one, telling you Hamilton’s origin story, and then suddenly there they all are, all of them – maybe 20? 50? It seems like 1000? – as close to the audience as they can get, and they are every size and ethnicity and gender, and their voices are loud, and I thought to myself, oh my God, this is a cast of people descended from every nation on Earth, all singing about the foundations of the American experience, and yes I “knew” that, intellectually, but holy shit, now that I see them all, I know it, like in my stomach, I understand it, and what a thing that is.

The third time I saw Hamilton, that moment was during “It’s Quiet Uptown,” when this enormous, sprawling, improbable, otherworldly, multi-ethnic, historical, art tornado presses pause on all of its historical-cultural-ethno-sociological-artistic investigations, and spends four and a half spare minutes with a couple who are grieving an unimaginable tragedy.  Specifically, it was the lines

Forgiveness
Can you imagine?
Forgiveness
Can you imagine?

What a thing to do, for your characters – to give them four and a half minutes in the middle of an enormous, sprawling, historical swirl, to just be sad. What a piece of writing that is.

(Again, should be a footnote, but: as long as I’m talking about writers here, I should point out that if the late Harris Wittels were alive, he would, at this moment, text me and hit me with a “humblebrag” for writing about how I have seen Hamilton three times, and he would be right. Miss you Harris!)

In the hundreds of hours of my life I have spent thinking about Hamilton since I first saw it – far more hours than any other single piece of art I have ever experienced – I have revisited that same thought over and over: he never should’ve written it. It was an absurd thing to do. It took him a year to write the title song, then another year to write the second song, and how did he not give up when two years had gone by and he’d written two songs?  He must’ve known in his heart it needed to be a 50-song, 2 ½-hour enterprise, and he had two songs after two years, and he kept going. How did he keep going? I’ve been trying to write this blog post about two writers I admire for different reasons since the week Tom Petty died, and I’ve almost given up five times.

At this point, the entire musical is that “moment” for me. It’s the whole thing, now – the thing that overwhelms me is the whole thing. The conception of it, the writing of it, the rewriting of it. The music and the motifs and the themes and the threads and the dramatic shape and the characters and their inner lives, and the eagle-eye writer’s view it took to keep all of that in his head, all of it, the whole time. The writing of it. The utterly impossible writing of it. 

mike gets a video camera

some cute headcanons involving mike recording the losers!! also this is kind of got hella long so sorry haha

  • oKAY so let’s get started…

Keep reading

— off limits | 01 (m)

pairing— kim seokjin x reader
genre/warnings— smut, dirty talk, dom! Jin, just dirty, dirty sex that my heart can’t take
words— 11,158

:: summary— you’ve been lusting after your brother’s best friend for a while now, ever since you met him at a house party, flirting it up a storm as you failed to realise who the other was. That was months ago now and things are still awkward, but you can’t ignore the sexual tension that’s simmers between the two of you…and it keeps getting worse…

 » 01 :: 02 :: 03 :: 04 :: 05 :: 06 :: 07 ::

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[SUMMARY] BTS 2013-2017:

2013: Kids who turned gangsta because the school system is sh*t but they still have dreams. They will also feel embarrassed because of their name (Bulletproof boy scouts) soooo much they will just simply make TWO songs singing their name #Logic

Originally posted by taerashh

2014: Somehow they fell in love and the girl is in danger? but simply speaking they are just having a one-sided love and the girl is a b*tch who is using them. Also just like a pregnant woman their mood is not steady due to hormones. 

Originally posted by kaiffee

2015: We don’t know if it’s still the same girl but they need one now. Also, they found a hobby: running (This explains the thighs *wink*). They are very sad and depressed but they like to party together. Until they decide to have a career because that’s dope and clubbing is not. It was also the year with SO MANY theories and questions. All their fans became full-time inspectors and part-time psychiatric hospital patients.  

Originally posted by vhopeislifeu

2016: That year was THE year. First, they started putting on fire EVERYTHING while dancing in an empty swimming pool. Then some months later asked for help in some kinda field. And when we thought it can’t get any more insane. Well … recall that b*tch from before? now they are telling her to take their blood, sweat, tears, soul, cold breath, last dance … then they ask her to choke them then kill them! BOI ANY GURL WILL RUN AWAY WHAT THE HELL JUST GIVE HER A TEDDY BEAR! I am starting to really think it’s not the girl’s fault.

Originally posted by vminisreal

2017: Well this year was full of plot twists. They call a song Spring Day but they froze filming it in winter. They said they were bulletproof but they got shot. And when we thought they made ‘Wings’ so now they will stop running, guess WHAT? they added black ninjas to the club (just to be EXTRA) and went running in the mountains (because a gym is too ORDINARY). And it didn’t end there. Recall that girl AGAIN we talked about? Now they think they are related to her via their DNA. And called an album after HER. They are definitely not obsessed but one thing for sure the fans like HER. One last thing they are now Beyond The Scene a name no one will mention but their Wikipedia page.  

Originally posted by jijkooks

But seriously after only 4+ years, BTS kept evolving, changing and experiencing with different styles while not failing to produce quality music, dance, and content. Indeed the questions are: How much can they grow? How far will they go? And CAN WE GET SOME REAL ANSWERS PLEASE??? 

By @mimibtsghost

Undercover ~ BTS!Mafia AU Pt. 1

Thank you for 2,000! We hope you enjoy! - The Admins

Summary: Jeon Jungkook is the leader of a Mafia. He’s a drug lord, rich, and a murderer. And you? You’re just (Y/N). But to Jungkook you’re his everything, and he will do anything he can to keep you safe.

Type: A bit of everything

Warnings for this part: Guns, SMUT!, Blood, shitty fight scenes (i tried bro), language, drugs, angst

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader ft. BTS

MASTERLIST

PART 2 PART 3 PART 4 PART 5 PART 6 PART 7


You had just gotten off of work and headed over to Jimin’s place. You hadn’t talked to him all day and decided you’d pay him a surprise visit. You used your key to unlock the door and set your bag down on the small table next to it. 

You had barely taken a few steps into the house when you heard a moan, Jimin’s moan. ‘He’s probably masturbating’ You thought, it wasn’t the first time you had walked in on him jerking off. 

He did it when he was impatient and you’d always come home at just the right time to be able to help him. You smiled to yourself and slipped off your shoes before walking towards his door at the end of the hall.

As you went to grab the handle you heard another moan, a woman’s moan. ‘Is he watching porn?’ You thought and grabbed onto the knob. 

“Oh Jimin! Right there!” A woman cried, you could tell he was having sex with her, the noises of skin slapping got louder. 

You opened the door and saw a sight that you would never forget. A woman was underneath Jimin, her legs were out and he was thrusting into her quickly while letting out those grunts that made you so wet. But you were just disgusted. Hearing those noises made you want to puke. 

You watched in shock as he used a hand to grab onto her breast and squeeze her nipple while the other moved down and he used his thumb to rub her clit. His back was facing you and she had her eyes closed, she was moaning too loudly to even hear you walk into the room. 

She was right on the brink of her orgasm when you almost screamed. 

“REALLY JIMIN?!” He had one last snap of his hips that made her orgasm before he quickly pulled out and stared at you. You watched as she squirted all over him and the sheets and gagged. 

“Wait! (Y/N)!” He got up and followed you as you ran down the hallway. His dick was red and hard, standing against his lower stomach but that was the last of his worries. 

“I-I can explain.” He stuttered, surprised that he had been caught. This wasn’t the first time he was fucking another girl, this had been going on for a while. Hell, he had been having sex with multiple girls all at once, he had been getting bored of (Y/N). 

You shook your head and said nothing while tears streamed down your face, your hands shook as you grabbed your shoes and slid them on your feet. 

“(Y/N), listen.” His hand reached out to grab yours and you flinched and slapped his hand away. 

“Don’t touch me! Don’t…” You grabbed your bag and he ran a hand through his hair. 

“Please! Let me talk.” You could barely see clearly from the tears in your eyes. 

“No, I don’t wanna hear it.” You opened the door and ran down the hallway to the elevator, quickly closing the doors before Jimin could make it to you. 

You ran out of the apartment complex, barely making it out of the doors before throwing up on the grass. Everything you had eaten came up and you were dizzy while walking to your car. 

You took a minute and wiped away your tears and went home, never speaking a word to Park Jimin again.

11 months had passed since you’d said a word to Jimin. You came back the next day, collected all of your things you had left at his place, giving him back the shirts you took from him and walked passed him and didn’t look back. 

3 months after he had cheated, you went on a date with Jungkook and things went on from there. You had met Jungkook through Jimin and became your best friend. Whenever you and Jimin argued, you’d step outside and call Jungkook, letting out all of your problems. 

You haven’t had sex since the last time you and Jimin had slept together and that was nearly 3 weeks before you caught him cheating. 

Jungkook was rich, but you weren’t dating him for the money. When you met him, he looked like complete shit. Hair messy and unwashed, his eyes were bloodshot and he had bags underneath them. His shirt was wrinkled and he had dried up tears on his face. He walked in on you and Jimin watching a movie and told Jimin about how his girlfriend had broken up with him. 

He asked you on a date when you were complaining about being tired of being alone. You were tired of staying in bed all the time, crying because of your heartbreak. But Jungkook, he was everything you wanted and more. 

Jimin was great at first, but near the end of your relationship, you barely talked to each other anymore. 

Jungkook made you feel special, he got you what you want and simply asked for your love in return. You made it clear to him that you didn’t want the money, he was what you wanted. 


And now you were here today. 

Another day on the job. You lead another family to a table and handed them their menu’s. A dad, and two children. You politely smiled and rejected him when he asked you out on a date, stating you had a boyfriend. 

He smiled in understanding and proceeded to talk to his children. ‘If only more people here were like that’ you thought to yourself while going to hand their orders to the chef. 

Most of the men that went here were with their girlfriends and snuck over you on their way to the bathroom, trying to cop a feel. 

A few girls had even hit on you before, they stared and bit their lips, admiring your body from head to toe. But you also rejected, again stating you had a boyfriend. 

When your shift was over, you said goodnight to everyone and made your way home to your apartment. You said hello to the friendly old lady who was working on opening her door, her poor old shaky hands struggling with putting the key in the hole. You watched as she walked in and then walked into your apartment. You turned on the lights and kicked off your shoes, stretching before laying down on your couch. 

You pulled your phone out of your pocket and read the text messages from your friends and quickly replied before shooting a text message to Jungkook. 

‘Just got off work. How was your day?’ 


Jungkook was currently at one of his clubs with Jimin, Yoongi, and Namjoon. Jimin was dealing cocaine, laughing and joking around with one of their clients. Jungkook was sat in a chair, silently watching everyone closely. 

Yoongi had a girl on his lap, she was grinding against him while they made out. Music was blaring and some other people were dancing. 

Hoseok was in another room, having sex with one of his usual girls. When the DJ would switch the songs, you could hear their moans, she was literally screaming. 

Jungkooks phone vibrated when he noticed something odd. One of his clients had a gun tucked into his belt, which was strictly against the rules. No one but Jungkook and a few others were allowed to carry a gun on them while at the clubs. 

Jungkook got up and walked over to Jimin, putting his hand on his shoulder and tapping his finger 3 times. This was their signal. Jimin shrugged his arm off of his shoulder and when they made eye contact, Jungkook’s hand made it’s way to his gun. 

Jimin’s hand reached into his pocket and wrapped around the handle of a knife and by this time their ‘clients’ had noticed what they were doing. 

In a second, guns were raised. 

Yoongi and the girl had broken up, he was stood next to her, gun raised and she had one in her hand also. Namjoon was aimed at the one who was aiming at Yoongi. 

Jimin made the first move and quickly stabbed his knife into the man’s gut that was standing behind him. His arm shot up, hitting his arm so the gun went off and the bullet went into the ceiling. 

Jungkook quickly shot the next two, one of their bullets grazing his shoulder. Namjoon, Yoongi, Jimin, and the other female shot at a few other people. Jungkook shot at their leader but missed. 

He knocked the gun out of Jungkooks hand and he was just left with his hands. The man named Sooyoung stabbed the knife into Jungkook’s thigh, and Jungkook yelled at the pain. 

Jungkook punched him in the jaw knocking Sooyoung back. Jimin had just finished pulling his knife out of the chest of another man and threw it at Sooyoung, and it landed in his shoulder. 

Blood was soaking Jungkooks pant leg as he pushed Sooyoung down to the ground and straddled his waist so he couldn’t move. He pulled the knife out of his shoulder and stabbed him right in his chest. 

Sooyoung’s white dress shirt was soaked with blood and Jungkook got off of him, wiping his forehead but smearing blood on it. Jimin opened the door and yelled for everyone to get out so he and the others stayed behind to clean. 

“Jungkook, what happened?” Yoongi asked, looking over his body. 

“Stab wound to my thigh, I think that’s it.” He replied while staring at the dying body below him. Sooyoung coughed and tried to reach for a gun that was laying on the ground but Jungkook kicked it away with his foot and the remaining life left in Sooyoung slipped away. 

Jungkook took a seat and Namjoon already knew what to do. His hand wrapped around the handle tightly and the other pushed on Jungkook’s thigh. 

“Three.. Two..” Namjoon didn’t even get to one before he pulled the knife out and immediately started applying pressure. 

“Fuck!” Jungkook yelled and grabbed onto the arms of the chair. Namjoon’s hands were covered with blood and he bit his lip as Jungkook struggled to stay conscious. Yoongi grabbed onto Jungkook’s sleeve and ripped it so he could tie it around his thigh tightly. 

“I need to see (Y/N),” Jungkook said standing up and using the wall to stay stable. 

“What Jungkook? No, you need medical attention.” Namjoon said, stepping in front of the door. 

“Let me see (Y/N)!” He said sternly before pushing Namjoon out of the way and limping out to his ride. He paid someone to drive him to her apartment and by the time he arrived it was 2 in the morning. 


A tired (Y/N) opened the door and she was in one of his t-shirts. “Jungkook?” You gasped and pulled him inside quickly. 

“What happened?“ 

”(Y/N), I need help.“ He avoided your question and you led him into the bathroom and slowly stripped him of his clothes. 

He sat there in his boxers as you wiped away the blood from him and grabbed your first-aid kit from underneath the sink. You used some alcohol to clean where the bullet grazed his shoulder and you almost cried when you saw his thigh. 

“Jesus.” You whispered and very slowly dabbed the alcohol onto it in which Jungkook tried his best not to yell. 

“I need stitches.” He could barely speak and you nodded and grabbed a needle and thread and tried the best you possibly could. 

When you were finished, Jungkook was laid in your bed and you were cleaning the blood in the bathroom. 

“You doing okay?” You asked when you stepped back into the room. 

“For now.” He nodded, the pain meds were finally kicking in. 

“Now, tell me what the fuck happened to you.“ 

He said nothing.

You crossed your arms over your chest and looked patiently at Jungkook.

“Look Jun-”

Movie night

Pairing; Park Jimin x Reader

Words; 3.2k

Genre; Angst (if you squint), PURE SMUT, Fluff (if you look real closely)

Summary; You and Jimin have been in a 6 month long relationship and the most you’ve done is make-out. During a movie night you deicde to push the boundaries but things don’t go as planned.

A/N; I’m still low-key sick so this isn’t perfect but I tried!

Keep reading

married part 5- h.s imagine

you can read part 4 here

You let out a scream as you ran around in the kitchen. Lucas turned the corner, laughing as he chased you. You panicked as you realized you hit a dead end. Lucas smirked as he inched closer to you. “Where you gonna go now, babe?”

You crossed your arm and gave a pout. “Not fair. You always win.” Lucas gave a chuckle as he placed his hands on your waist, pulling you closer against him. “I won a long time ago.”

Your cheeks blushed as you tilted your head up to connect your lips together with Lucas.

After your birthday last year, you vowed to get over Harry. You couldn’t pine after him anymore. It wasn’t fair to you or his marriage. Moving on from Harry was definitely a struggle and occasionally your mind would drift off to see how he was doing. You couldn’t lie and say you didn’t miss him because you did. Harry’s made no effort to contact you. You couldn’t blame him though. You knew that if he found out your feelings for him, your friendship would somehow fall apart and sure enough, it did.

You’ve been with Lucas for about three months now. You guys rekindled when you accidentally ran into him at the store. You apologized for never getting back in touch with him after your first date and the rest is history. Lucas was sweet. He was really sweet. Sometimes when you were with him, you didn’t think about Harry.

You pulled away from Lucas as your phone started to ring. Lucas let out a groan as he buried his face into the crook of your neck. “Ignore it.”

You chuckled as you pulled out your phone from your back pocket. You immediately knew who was calling without even having to look at the caller ID. “Niall’s being a little groomzilla. If I ignore him, I’m pretty sure he’ll find a way to hunt me down.”

Lucas rolled his eyes playfully before he pressed a kiss to your cheek. “It’s so hard when everyone wants to take my girl away from me” he joked before leaving you alone to answer the call.

You shook your head as you let out a chuckle before you answered your phone. “What’s wrong now, Niall?”

“The seating arrangement is all wrong!” Niall yelled from the other side, frustration laced in his voice.

You pulled your phone back from your ear, wincing at Niall’s booming voice. “Listen Horan, you better watch your tone with me or I won’t help with the wedding anymore!”

Niall gulped. “I’m sorry. Can you please help with the seating arrangement?” Niall begged into the phone. You smirked as you mentally praised yourself for having Niall wrapped around your finger. “I’ll be over soon.”


Since you and Harry cut ties, you and Niall have become closer. He was your blessing in disguise. You could never thank Niall enough for being there for you when you just really needed a shoulder to cry on. Niall managed to find a girl that was head over heels for him. He was absolutely in love with her. You would like to say you thought Niall marrying someone he’s only known for less than a year was absolutely crazy but you couldn’t. Emma was perfect for Niall. When you first met her, she welcomed you with open arms and you could see how much love Niall had for her. You knew in your heart that they were perfect for each other.

Niall sighed out of relief when he opened the door. His hair was a mess from the amount of times he’s run his hands through it out of frustration. “Niall, I see you’re looking as beautiful as ever.” you chuckled as you stepped into his apartment. You gave a quick hug to Emma who was sitting in the kitchen.

Niall quickly brought out a giant piece of paper. It was like some sort of blue print. It had circles drawn on it to represent the tables, a square to represent the dance floor, a rectangle to represent where the DJ was gonna be. It was the nightmare of every wedding. Niall sighed as he placed the paper in front of you. “We need your help deciding where to put who.” Niall explained.

Emma shrugged her shoulders as she took a sip of wine. “I say we let everyone sit where they’d like to. Who cares about assigned seating?” Niall placed his hand on his forehead before he smiled sweetly. “I told you, honey. If everyone decided to sit where they wanted to then it’ll be a big mess. Each table seats 10 people. What if someone wants to sit at a table that already has 10 people sitting there? They can’t just pull up a chair as they please cause that’ll mean one table will only have 9 guests. We are having assigned seats!”

You and Emma both looked at each other with wide eyes from Niall’s outburst. His breathing was hard as he stared at a sheet with everyone’s name on it. You cleared your throat, “I may need a glass of wine myself for this.”

You looked at who was next on the guest sheet. “Oh! Louis. So we can put him and Eleanor with Liam and Cheryl at table 7.” You quickly wrote Louis’s and Eleanor’s name down on the blue print. Niall nodded as he took a swig of his beer. “Make sure you write Freddie’s and Bear’s name down as well.” You nodded as you began to write. “Who’s next on the list?”

Emma grabbed the guest sheet. “Harry-” Emma paused, her eyes widening a bit as she cleared her throat. “Styles…” Niall and Emma stared at you with weary eyes. Emma’s met Harry a couple of times and she loved him. She thought he was the absolute gentleman and she couldn’t believe what happened between you and him. She never knew Harry was capable of such heartbreak.

Your eyes remained focused on the blue print. You tried to remain unfazed, “Ok. Let’s put him and Kimberly at table 7 as well.” You began to write Harry’s name down before Niall cleared his throat. “Actually Y/N. Kimberly isn’t attending the wedding.”

You sighed as you placed your pencil down. You smiled softly at Emma and Niall sitting in front of you. “It’s sweet of you guys to not invite her but I’ll be fine. Besides, I think Harry would be pretty upset knowing he couldn’t bring his own wife.”

Emma looked at her fiancé. Her eyes telling him to tell you the news they recently got. Niall nodded, he turned back to you. “Harry and Kimberly filed for a divorce last month, Y/N.” You let out a small gasp before Emma explained, “He told us two weeks ago when we met for dinner.”

Your eyes were staring at Harry’s name written down on the blue print in front of him. Your eyes softened as you thought about Harry was feeling all about this. For as long as you knew Harry, you knew how he looked down at getting a divorce. Coming from divorced parents himself, he always saw divorce as giving up. You quickly shook your head, grabbing your pencil again. “That’s unfortunate to hear. Who’s next on the list?”

Emma came around the kitchen counter and placed her hand on your arm softly. “Do you want to talk about it?” Niall nodded his head, reaching across the counter to place his hand on top of yours. “We’re here for you, Y/N.”

You smiled softly as you looked between the couple. “I’m fine, you guys. I promise.” You looked down. “It’s unfortunate Harry has to go through this. And I wish him nothing but the best.” You looked up at the couple. “Now who’s next?”

Emma and Niall exchanged a worried look before Niall sighed as he looked at the list. “Rory…Rory’s next.”


You sighed as you stared at your reflection in front of you. You ran your hands over your dress and smiled as you remembered the last time you wore this dress.

You thanked Harry as he handed you a glass of punch. Harry sat down on the chair next to you as he took in the scene around him. You and Harry went back to Holmes Chapel to celebrate Anne’s birthday. The backyard was filled with family and friends. The sun was about to set, fairy lights hung and music playing in the background. You laughed as you saw the younger kids dancing on the dance floor in the middle of the yard. Harry grabbed your hand and placed a gentle kiss on top of it. “I’m really happy you’re here, Y/N.”

You could feel your cheeks burning slightly as your eyes softened. “Of course, H. I would never miss Anne’s birthday. I adore her.”

Harry’s mouth opened to say something before one of your favorite songs bounced off the speakers. Harry instantly noticed the way your eyes sparkled and your smile widened as the “Photograph” started to play. Harry stood up and held his hand out to you. “May I have this dance?”

You giggled as you stood up, grabbing Harry’s hand. He led the two of you to the middle of the dance floor. You placed your arms around his neck as he placed his around your waist. Harry’s eyes were staring at you intently. “Have I told you how beautiful you look tonight?” Harry whispered. You smiled as you looked down at your feet. “Shut up you goof.”

Harry smiled, placing his hand on your chin, tilting your head to look up at him. “You’re gorgeous, Y/N.”

You were interrupted by your thoughts as Lucas knocked on your door. “Are you ready, babe?” You grabbed your purse before you looked at your reflection once again. “Ready.” you whispered.

As the car was taking you and Lucas to where Niall’s and Emma’s rehearsal dinner was being held, your foot was tapping anxiously. You could feel your palms becoming sweaty as you inched closer and closer to the restaurant. Lucas placed his hand on your thigh. “Are you alright?”

You smiled nervously while shaking your head. “I’m fine.”

You weren’t. In a couple of minutes, you were going to be in the same room as Harry. You were going to finally see him after a year of cutting ties with each other. Would he say something to you? Should you say something to him? Was he going to bring up what happened that night? Is he going to talk about Kimberly?

As the car halted outside of the restaurant, you could feel yourself becoming nauseous. The restaurant looked great. It was closed for the event. You smiled at the small decorations scattered around the room. There were pictures of Niall and Emma throughout their relationship. Lucas gently kissed your cheek, “Good call on the photos.”

You let out a small shrug as you smiled. A slightly tipsy Niall and a sober Emma walked up to you and Lucas.

“Y/N!” the couple to be shouted, pulling you into a hug. You laughed as you hugged both of them. Emma leaned back. “Oh Y/N. We can’t thank you enough for helping with everything. I can sleep well tonight knowing everything is taken care of because of you.”

Niall nodded his head rapidly. “You were pretty much our wedding planner. Please. Let us pay you a little something for all the handwork you did.” He began to grab his wallet out of his pocket. You swatted at Niall’s arm, giving them a scowl.

“No! I could never take your money!” Niall was about to argue before you continued. “Niall, you’ve helped me so much for the past year. I can’t thank you enough. So think of this as me repaying you.” Niall’s eyes softened. He pulled you into another hug. “I told you everything would get better eventually” he whispered as he recalled the words he would say to you repeatedly during your falling out with Harry. You smiled as you squeezed Niall tighter in the hug. You pulled away and gave another hug to Emma.

The couple promised to meet with you and Lucas again before they went around to mingle with all of their friends and family. Lucas placed his hand on your waist. “I’m going to get us something to drink.” He said before he placed a kiss on your cheek and walking away.

As soon as Lucas walked away, you suddenly felt cold. You could feel eyes burning at the back of your head. You turned around slowly to see Harry standing across the room. He was staring at you with sadness in his eyes. You let out a shiver as it was the same look he gave you that night. You shook your head as you turned back around. You quickly walked away, wanting to get as far as you possibly could. You stepped out onto the restaurant patio. You let out a deep breath as you ran your hand through your hair.

“Y/N…”

You spun around to see Harry standing in front of you. You closed your eyes briefly, “Harry.”

Harry’s eyes softened as he took you in. “It’s so nice to see you again. You look beautiful.” You shook your head. You quickly murmured, “I can’t do this” before you pushed past Harry to go back inside.

“Are you happy?”

You halted as you turned back around. “What?”

Harry walked closer. “With him? Are you happy?” You looked at the ground before Harry continued, “Cause I’m a bloody mess without you.”

Your eyes filled with anger as you stepped closer to Harry. You poked him in the chest. “No! You can’t say things like that! You’re married!” Harry grabbed your hand, “I filed for a divorce!” Harry sighed as he glanced down before his eyes met yours. “What happened that night absolutely wrecked me, Y/N. For the rest of my life, I will always regret that night. I missed your fucking birthday, Y/N. I’ve never felt so disgusted with myself. I tried moving on. I tried being the best husband I could possibly could to Kimberly but I couldn’t. You! You were on my mind constantly! I couldn’t do a single thing without thinking about you! All I could see was you crying. All I could see was how much I hurt you. I will never be able to forgive myself. But Y/N. I fucking love you.”

By the end of Harry’s speech, the two of you had tears in your eyes. Harry wiped your eyes before he whispered, “I love you, Y/N.”

Harry’s eyes glanced between your eyes and lips. Suddenly he placed his lips on yours.


thank you guys so much for 2k followers! i created this blog because people like @harry-writings and @permanentcross & so much other amazing writers INSPIRED me to write things of my own! whenever i read something they wrote, i would remain in awe. i would constantly refresh their pages to see if they updated. knowing that people are doing the same to my own writing and even asking me for advice for their own blog makes me so…happy. and just so grateful. i love each and every one of you. THANK YOU ALL. 

you can find all my writing here

you can find part 6 here

— aquiver | 01 (m)

aquiver (adj.) [uh-kwiv-er] in a state of trepidation or vibrant agitation; trembling; quivering

pairing— min yoongi x reader
genre/warnings— mature themes, talk of masturbation, smut, language
words— 10,110

:: summary— Yoongi can’t remember the last time he was able to successfully bring himself to the point of orgasm, then Namjoon gives him a business card advertising ‘Healing Hands’, and that’s where he meets you; pretty and innocent looking, who gets paid to provide hand jobs for a living…

note— inspired by the novella ‘The Grownup’ by Gillian Flynn, literally just the main character’s past occupation haha

» 01 :: 02 :: 03 :: 04 :: 05 :: 06 :: 07

Keep reading

Pre-Kerberos! Matt HC

[Pre-Kerberos! Matt]

★ Matt is the whitest of the whites, he eats one hot chip and it’s game over.

★ He’s allergic to pickles

★ He got Katie into aliens and cryptids

  • He doesn’t regret it                                                                             

★ Him and Shiro were friends, even before the Garrison.

★ He’s a little shit, the Garrison teachers expected him to be the perfect student since he was Sam and Colleen’s son.

  • They were wrong, he started a black market and wasn’t found out until it was too late. He made more than $500 bucks cash.

★ Whenever he was called into the office to talk about his future he just answered with “Kick ass, go to space, represent the human race.”

The cost of losing a bet with him was high

  • Once a kid had to go up to Iverson and ask if he was a furry and if his boyfriend was bigfoot.
  • They were required to help Iverson for the rest of the year during their free hour.

★ Anytime anyone asked if him and Shiro were dating, he did finger guns and awkwardly backed away.

★ Has been the cause of the science lab blowing up at least 5 times.

  • Shiro was apart of three of them.

★ Puns were his shit no one could escape

  • Shiro does this make us…..Kerbros?”
  • “If it weren’t for the laws of this land, I would’ve slaughtered you, Matt.”

★ Would fight you if you said Pluto wasn’t a planet

★ Is the most oblivious of people, two kids had a crush on him at the same time and he never noticed

  • But he can somehow notice when people have crushes on each other??

★ He met Neil Degrasse Tyson once and cried

★ Katie and him show their love by roasting each other on the daily

★ “I know you love those peas, Dad.” was only the tip of the Yikesburg™ .

★ He dyed Shiro’s hair once

  • It went as well as expected
  • It was neon blue

★ He smuggled Pidge into the Garrison once with the help of Shiro

  • Keith found them dragging her through the window
  • He just stared silently and walked away

★ He can do a perfect Yoda impression

  • Katie sadly found out when she on the verge of sleep at 3am

★ Subs always liked him for some reason, no one really knew how or why though.

★ He could name all 206 bones in the human body, and he taught Keith how to break every one of them

★ Katie popped out the lens in his back-up prescription glasses

  • He cried

★ He can quote back to the future word for word

★ “What are you gonna do punch me???”

  • The kid decked him
  • He broke their leg

★ He threatened to sell Katie to the Garrison for a pizza

  • A guy’s gotta do what they gotta do to get some decent food

★ “How’d you do in your flight test, Matt?” “Oh, I nearly killed Shiro. it’s chill though.”

★ He cries whenever he sees dogs since the Garrison is in the middle of nowhere

  • He once cried for more dog deaths in three school days than his entire life

★ “Hey Matt, high-five the stars for me okay?” “Of course, Katie.”

  • She hasn’t found out if he did or not.

★ It was his idea to name their dog Gunther

  • “What the fuck, Matt” “It haS CHARACTER KATIE”

★ Him and his mom are kickass together.

  • Everyone is low-key terrified of them

★ He crashed his bike into a tree once

  • “Lol you guys will never guess what happened”
  • “What”
  • “My bone is no longer in my leg”

★ “Do you think Iverson and—” “I’m gonna stop you right there.”

★ He hacked the speakers in the Garrison to play Bill Nye the Science Guy when someone said he wasn’t a real scientist

★ Believes in the multiverse theory and soulmates

  • Maybe in some other universe him and Shiro are happy

★ He’s pan and poly, fight me   

  • Katie got him a shirt that read “Pans for Bigfoot”    
  • He wore it everywhere

★ He finished the office in a week and stares at a security camera whenever something stupid happens

★ Someone confessed to him once and he panicked and said “Thank you”

★ Matt is actually a super good crossdresser???

  • Shiro and Keith are surprised???
  • Katie had to get it from somewhere y’all

★ Lowkey likes to make fun of Keith for being Texan

  • “Y’all’d’ve done good if y’all had listened to me.”
  •  “I hate living because of you, Matt.”

★ Bill Nye the Science Guy is his dad and you can’t tell him otherwise.

  • He’ll fight you if you say he isn’t a real Scientist

★ MATT REALLY LIKES AVATAR: THE LAST AIRBENDER, LIKE I HAVEN’T EVEN SEEN IT BUT I KNOW HE DOES.

★ Him and Katie learned Latin for kicks

★ Speaks fluent meme

★ **Drops one piece of candy on his room floor** “,,,,,,,,” **Kneels down to look for it**

★ 10/10 doesn’t know how to handle any crushes he has

  • He realized he had a crush on Shiro with the “help” of Katie and Keith
  • He tried to eat an entire jar of pickles afterwards

★ “Matt, you have a crush on my brother, admit it” “New glasses, who dis?”

★ “Shiro, when I was your age,,,,,,” “One day, you’re just not going to wake up.”

★ He somehow convinced Shiro to dress up as Watson while he was Sherlock

★ Hamilton’s number 1 fan

★ He spits out facts at random

  • “Y’know Alexander Hamilton spelt Philadelphia wrong in our Constitution?” 
  • Katie, who has been running on 3 hours of sleep: please shut tf up

★ “You’re a little shit Matt” “Atleast I don’t quote Fairy Tail any chance i get”

★ Matt: THIS BITCH EMPTY 
★ Katie, grabbing his backpack full of assignments from the Garrison: Y E E T

★ He hates coffee but will drink 5 cans of soda in an hour

★ “YOOOOO I TELL YOU WHAT I WANT WHAT I REALLY WANT” “SO TELL ME WANT WHAT YOU REALLY WANT” “I WANNA–”

  • Sam Holt voice: Please,,,,just go to sleep”

★ He’s a Gryffindor

★ Someone bet him that he couldn’t eat 2 of the new Grand Macs

  • He ate 4, Katie ate 5
  • Everyone was impressed and low-key terrified

★ Shiro: bro take off your glasses
★ Matt: bro everything’s a blur
★ Shiro: that’s my life without you
 Matt, tearfully: Bro… 

Iverson: any questions?
Matt: Yeah, first of all, how dare you?

★ “Would you slap Katie for $2,000?” “I’d break both of Katie’s arms and my own leg for a small fry from McDonald's”

★ Shiro gave him one of his sweaters when it was cold out once

  • Shiro hasn’t seen it since

★ He had an emo phase that lasted 2 months before he got tired of the eyeliner

  • Katie likes to bring it up at the worst times

He’s covered in bandaids 90% of the time

  • Most times it’s because he and Katie were fucking around while building smth

★ “The amount of uses for a dead horse is infinite” “Matt, honestly, just go to church”

★ His mind is just a constant loop of that scene in VeggieTales where the realized they didn’t have hands and just sadly looked at each other

★ “KATIE POKEMON PIDGEOTTO HOLT

★ Mashed potatoes can and should fuck him up

★ Learned to play the kazoo for meme opportunity

★ Once burnt off one of his eyebrows from boiling water

★ Him and Katie do the handshake thing from Zack and Cody

★ Whenever someone asks to see a picture of Katie, he just pulls out a picture of Pidgey from Pokémon

  • Matt: Isn’t she pretty?

★ He beat every island in poptropica

★ He can make really nice flower crowns nobody has questioned it

★ He talks with his hands a lot

  • He’s hit Keith in the face more than once because of it

★ You know when it snowed in Egypt for the first time in years and that guy had that giant ass snowball and was gonna fucking dunk it on his friend?

  • That’s Matt

★ He can dance?? Where did he learn it? Nobody knows

★ “Keith I came as soon as i heard! I can’t believe it I knew you two were close”
★“Wtf are you talking about?”
★“Punk is dead, Keith”

★ When the rumour that MCR was coming back you bet your ass Matt was ready to blast every song whenever he saw Keith

★ “I’m Matt, the radar technician”

★ He recreated BB-8 from Star Wars: The Force Awakens and cried

★ “Bitch, I am a gift of God, square up”

  • Get it? Because Matthew means gift of God??

★ He can solve a rubix cube behind his back in under 35 seconds

★ If he laughs hard enough he’ll start snorting

  • 50% of the time he won’t notice because he’s too busy laughing
  • The other 50% he’ll stop and frown in disgust at his own snort

★ He found out Shiro poured his milk in before the cereal and kicked him out their dorm

Matt: Hey, Shiro, want to stay for dinner?
Colleen: Do you want to stay forever?

★ Iverson lowkey reminds him of Snape, so by default he just doesn’t like him

★ “Work, work!” “Matthew!”
    “Work, work!” “Katherine!”
    “,,,,,and Keith”
    “The conspiracy theorists!”

★ Unlike his sister, he likes to garden and starts one in their backyard with their mom

★ Matt would totally force Shiro to cosplay Team Rocket for Halloween with Pidge being Meowth and Keith being an edgier version of Ash Ketchum

  • Shiro as Jessie and Matt as James of course

★ He owns every pokemon game in existence

  • Pokemon Snap was his shit when he was like 7
  • He 360 noscoped the Pokemon with apples

★ Has read all of the Harry Potter books three times

★ He tried to teach Shiro how to dance

  • They never finished though because neither of them could take the sexual tension

★ He was more into the galaxies and multiple universes part of space, while Katie was excited for the tech advances 

  • They were both 100% ready for aliens though

★ Shiro told him he couldn’t create the Marauders Map, so he did out of spite

★ Talked in nothing but Shakespeare for a day to piss off Katie

★ He loved ducktales

  • Too bad he can’t see the reboot

★ Barbie and the 12 dancing princesses was his shit

★ When Katie was born, he brought a potato with him when he went to the hospital to compare the two

★ He always wore sweaters that didn’t quite fit him, so he could have Sweater Paws

★ There was a supposed ‘haunted’ house on his street, so him Katie and the Broganes all snuck out to investigate

  • A window broke while they were in there
  • Keith shapeshifted into Sonic and bolted, Katie started hysterically crying and laughing at the same time as she ran, and Matt jumped into Shiro’s arm and Shiro fuckin’ booked it
  • They all agreed not to talk about it

★ Once in gym, a ball was about to hit someone in the face but instead of yelling “duck!” he yelled “dICK”

  • To this day no one has let him live it down

★ Uses an absurd amount of emoticons when texting

★ 10/10 would meme again

★ Used the word “Yo” too many times to count

★ Tried to bury Katie underneath a bunch of snow when she was 10

★ He can’t swim

★ He’s cried during nearly every Disney and Pixar movie


[Read Part Two// Post-Kerberos! Matt HC here!]

THE NINE TIMES STEVE GAVE YOU A FUNNY LOOK

Originally posted by themarvelnerd

Pairing: Steve x Reader, Bucky x Reader (Platonic), Avengers x Reader (platonic)

Warning(s): the kinda language Steve would smh at

World Count: 3827

Author’s Note: I got so into this it’s not even funny. After like, two years of not doing anything on tumblr, it isn’t surprising that i write a Steve oneshot for the first time since. But on that note, I don’t only do Steve works, please feel free to request other characters and/or fandoms: masterlist - prompt list.

Preference ★ Imagine ★ One Shot ★ Drabble




[Y/N] [Y/L/N] was an asshole.
You were an asshole.
You are an asshole.

You were slightly narcissistic with an ego as big as the tower, you were very beautiful, and the last person on earth to ever be considered shy.

That made you and Tony Stark best of pals (most of the time), and you and Steve as foes (all the time). He wasn’t rude or a jerk or at all hostile, Steve was just always on edge with you. He didn’t know whether or not your jokes were jokes (you always reverted back to slitting your enemy’s throats – Steve being a righteous guy and all, he wasn’t all that optimistic with that choice), or if you really were here to save people and not for the money the government and Tony Stark paid you — eh, what can you say, it’s very, very good money.

Humble was also not on your list of qualities.

Bold red lips, a wide grin to showcase your pearly white teeth, and heart shaped sunglasses. That was you in your room as you blasted out music at exactly 2100 hours.

You and Steve shared a floor in the Avengers tower.

Why? It was a decision that was absolutely not your choice, but you had no problem with it. Fucking with Steve was fun.

See, Tony had a whole floor to himself, same as Bruce and Vision. Nat and Clint were right below them (Clint usually at his place with Laura, though), Sam and Scott also had their own floor, Wanda and Pietro, then last but not least, Thor either in Asgard or London with Jane – which then pretty much left you and Steve together. Peter kind of lived here during the day then and back at his apartment with May during the evenings. He was a total pest.

A knock went by unnoticed by you. But an upset looking Steve did. He stalked into your (much larger) room and paused your music. He turned and gave you a look.

You raised your brow as you paused your late night dancing. You pushed your sunglasses further down your nose to peak up at the Captain. “Captain.” You greeted, nodding your head towards the brooding soldier once. “May I help you?“ You raised your perfectly sculpted brow in questioning.

Steve took a deep breath and crossed his (also very large) arms. “Your music was too loud and I’m trying to sleep. Can’t you at least keep it down?”

You snorted. “It’s barely nine o'clock, grandpa.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “I’m not a grandpa.” He grumbled with an offended frown. “Just turn it down, will you?”

You smirked and pushed your glasses back up. “Oh, I’m sorry, have I spangled your stars, grandpa?”

With a final narrowed stare, Steve twisted his Dorito-body around and stalked back to his room.

You chuckled and resumed to your midnight dancing with wine.

That was the first time you got on his nerves. It was also the first time you were on the receiving end of his very famous looks.




The second time you received a stupid look was during a mission - in the middle of combat, mind you. This stupid robot who called himself Ultron was trying to ruin everything, and apparently, it was up to you and the rest of the Avengers to stop him – or it. It’s not that you wanted to. it was kind of what Tony Stark paid you to do. And like hell would you pass up Tony Stark’s pay checks.

Steve trusted you now, at least. You only saved his ass, like, a hundred (three) times after S.H.I.E.L.D. fell and he found out his best friend from seventy years ago was still alive. A wild ride, that year was.

Anyway, you and the team were in Sokovia fighting robots.


ROBOTS.


Fuck this shit, if the money wasn’t so good you’d drop your signature double pistols and walk the opposite direction. But one, your pistols were very delicate (silver with diamonds), and you were asked very nicely to stay by Bruce - and you could never say no to Bruce.

In hindsight, the view wasn’t so bad and I guess – I guess – that saving people felt a little good (don’t tell anybody). Sokovia was so far high into the sky that you could have sworn that you could see angels flying around in the distance – some helpful angels, huh.

The sky was beautiful, though. And so was Captain America’s ass.

You beamed at the sight and turned to Steve. “Hey, Cap?” You called out, shooting a robot.

Steve grunted in acknowledgement as he kicked another robot and decapitated it with his shield. “What?” He gave you a glance that barely lasted a second.

You shot another robot. Then another. Then another. Then you turned to him. “Nice ass.”

That was look number two.




"Hey F.R.I.D.A.Y.?”

"Yes, Ms [Y/L/N]?”

"What’s your faculty on nicknames?”

"Activated by Mr Stark, Ms.”

"Huh … so, like, what are you allowed to call me?”

"Whatever you ask, Ms [Y/L/N].”

“Right, right … how about Supreme Leader [Y/L/N]?”

"Activated,  Supreme Leader [Y/L/N].”

"Huh … thanks F.R.I.D.A.Y.”

"Of course, Supreme Leader [Y/L/N].”


Of course, that didn’t go unnoticed for long. You were eating dinner with the team – something that didn’t happen often – and Steve took this time to lecture the team about a mission in a few days time. Three days, to be exact. It was located in Paris, and you were all to attend a gala crawling with HYDRA agents, mercenaries, psycho bitches, and anything else in between.

“ – so we’ll go over the plans again after dinner – ”

You groaned loudly and threw your head back. You dropped your knife loudly causing a clink made by the knife and plate. “Rogers!” You whined, “We went over this yesterday! And this morning at breakfast! And two seconds ago while I tried to enjoy my dinner in peace, fighting the urge to grab this fork and shove it through my eye – ” you ignore his wince, “and now again tomorrow?! If you even bring this stupid mission up again, I will resign.” You threatened. “Resign, you hear me. R. E. S. I. G. N.” Drama Queen is also in your list of qualities. “F.R.I.D.A.Y. tell him.” 

Natasha rolled her eyes, Sam cleared his throat, Steve still had his wince and sullen/guilty face, Clint looked bored as he played with his peas, Thor looked confused, Pietro look amused, Wanda was too busy chatting up Vision, Scott was – where was Scott? Tony had a smirk, and poor Bruce just didn’t know where to look. Peter just chewed his chicken in anticipation, looking back and forth between you and Steve for a reaction.

F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s voice rang out soon enough. “Of course, Supreme Leader [Y/L/N].” Then the AI began repeating your every word.

Natasha’s brow shot up. “Supreme Leader? Really?”

“ – And this morning at breakfast. And – ”

You shrugged your shoulders.

“ – seconds ago while I tried to enjoy my dinn – ”

Steve groaned. “That’s enough, F.R.I.D.A.Y., please stop.”

“Yes, Captain.”

You rolled your eyes. “Traitorous bitch.” You mumbled.

Cue look number three.




The fourth time you received a look was when Steve was fixing a lightbulb and he suddenly found himself on the floor. He did know you guys hired people for that kind of work, right?

Anyway, you and Pietro - bored as hell and without anything to do - you both decided to race from the ground floor of the Avengers tower, to the very top – on foot – using the staircases.

And the silver asshole was absolutely not allowed to use his powers. If he did, you had every right to shoot him in the shoulder with your trusty diamond pistols and he would have to take it like a man. He promised so, himself. “Scouts Honour.” Pietro said, saluting you.

To which Wanda replied with a snort and, “What Scouts Honour?”

You were enhanced, yes, but you were tired. Not too much, just enough not to be tired after running twenty-six flights of stairs. You and Pietro both slammed into Steve’s ladder as he fixed a lightbulb.

You didn’t even bother looking back.

You could not lose this bet.

The entire time you ran, you repeated the same thing in your head over, and over again. Run, Forrest, Run! Whatever - If Pietro won, you had to massage him whenever he felt like it for an entire month. If you won, well, he had to give you a piggy back ride whenever you felt like it. Also for a month.

Steve was really upset after that. He wouldn’t look at you for a week, and when he finally did, he gave you a long lecture about racing inside the tower. “Blah, blah, blah, someone could get seriously hurt, blah, blah, blah, if I see you two race again, blah, blah, blah.”

You leant over towards Pietro who sat beside you. He was also slouched on his chair, eyes looking at the ceiling in boredom. “Are you also feeling the urge to shove your foot up his ass?”

That was look number four.




Look number five + look number six was kind of your fault.

Steve had arrived after being gone for months. He, along with Sam, had been off around the world searching high and low for James Buchanan Barnes. You wanted to go, you really did. Despite your love for annoying the living shit out of Steve, you still cared about him more than you let on. That was not your fault. How? Well, you know the whole shebang: 

Tragic back story: check. Trust issues: check. Daddy issues: check. Issues with not being able to express how you feel without wanting to physically vomit: check.

However, it was in your job description to be able to read people. You were an intelligent person. You knew a lot, you sensed a lot, you observed a lot. You just didn’t show it a lot. And without saying anything, you knew how people felt and most importantly, what they needed.

And Steve just needed his own space – Sam excluded. You were actually kind of jealous of Sam (tell anyone, and you won’t live until the next day). Sam was kind of Steve’s boyfriend (along with dear old Buck-a-roo and Tony).

So while he was gone, you kept your distance. Steve didn’t need any more on his plate, let alone more of your shit. Whenever he called the team for a report or to simply catch up, you never said anything. You had told the crew to just inform him that you were on a mission, in the gym, or off gallivanting somewhere - anywhere, really.

Steve really cared about you though, you knew that. Every time he called he’d see if you were there. And you were. You were there, right behind the monitor that projected him along with the the camera that projected the team from your end. Your face would be resting on your hand, your elbow propped the table. You actually smiled whenever he asked about you. It was cute.

Anyway, you kind of deserved look number five.

Steve had finally arrived with Bucky by his side. Sam had already said his hellos and received his welcome-home handshakes and hugs. Steve stayed behind the Quinjet for a few short minutes before hopping off and finally introducing the famous James Barnes. 

But you didn’t know that.

And neither did Scott.

You two weren’t racing – nope. You were simply just running to get to the last slice of cake in the main kitchen. In both your defence, it was the last slice of the cake Pepper brought home from Paris. Paris. You loved Paris. And apparently, Scott did, too. If that wasn’t worth running for, what the hell was?

You distinctly remember Pepper saying that it was from Paris, and that it was the best cake she’d ever tasted.

So, without looking, you barged through the team yelling bloody murder. Scott was a little behind seen as though you’d throw whatever the hell you could at him. That last slice was yours, and ramming, pushing, throwing off the building, and threatening whoever you needed to just to that slice, you would sure as hell do it.

You felt your hip slam into a corner of a table: ignored. You tripped over a step: ignored. You felt your shoulder ram into a very strong and metal-like object: ignored. You saw a couch: ignored + jumped over.

But alas, you held in your hand … the slice.

A grin erupted on your face. Poor Scoot looked crestfallen.

“Sorry, Lang. This one’s mine.” You grinned.

A clearing of the throat made you jump. What the hell did they want? 

When you looked up, you saw the entire team + Steve + The Winter Soldier.


Well, shit.


“Oh.” You trailed off. You gave Steve a sheepish smile. “Hi, Steve, good to see you again. Did I tell you I missed you? Because I did.”

“Didn’t I tell you to stop running in the tower?” Steve stared into your [Y/E/C] eyes with his blue ones.

“No. You told said to stop racing.”

Steve didn’t reply. Instead he gave you look number five.

You chuckled nervously and stalked towards them. “Sorry.” You looked to Sam and gave him a large hug despite already giving him one earlier. Your right hand still refused to let go of the platter of cake. Then you looked towards James Buchanan Barnes.

Steve cleared his throat. “Buck, meet [Y/N] [Y/L/N]. [Y/N] [Y/L/N], meet Bucky.”

Neither of you did anything. Just kinda stared at each other in thought. He tried to read you while you tried to read him.

He was lonely.

Okay, you thought. So you reached your right hand up and gestured him to take your plate. “Here you go. Nice to meet ‘cha.” 

Steve gave you another look, only, this one was different. It looked funnier – more odd and curious. A look that you had never seen before. That was look number six.

And this time, you didn’t see anyone’s reactions. You just stared at James Buchanan Barnes, while he stared at you, to the cake, then back to you again. 

Thus, a beautiful friendship was born.




Few months later,
Look number seven.


You found yourself in this position a lot, it seems. It would be two in the morning, your head in your hands and your ears perked up.

As an agent, you were trained this way. Your mind had its own mind. Every morning at exactly one o'clock your eyes would flutter open, and without a single thought, your body would move almost mechanically. You’d get up, wash your face, then throw a hoodie over your head. Afterwards, you’d find yourself sitting on the edge of you bed, head in your hands, and your ears waiting for Bucky.

After sleeping in the same floor as Steve and Bucky, Bucky’s room was right across yours. Both your doors were so close you could stand in the hall way, spread your arms, and you’d be able to touch both your door knobs.

Insomnia was something you had as a child. It came very naturally. So, as a cure, you’d take sleeping vitamins – not pills. Though it would help you fall asleep, it was up to you to keep yourself asleep. Five hours was your maximum. If your sleep was disturbed, that’s when you would wake up every day from then on unless you trained yourself otherwise all over again. That could take days, or even weeks going up to months.

So every day, it was up to you. You didn’t want Steve waking up and losing precious sleeping hours. So instead of training yourself to sleep for five hours all over again, you allowed yourself two hours of rest every night. From then on, you’d stay awake and listen for Bucky’s screams.

Then you’d find your feet silently landing on the floor and rushing towards Bucky’s room.


Here are your steps:

  1. Lightly press a pillow on Bucky’s metal arm and cover it.
  2. Sit on his arm to keep him from attacking you.
  3. Softly say his name as many times as it takes for him to wake up.
  4. Press your body harder onto his as he thrashes around.
  5. Then hug the hell out of him and cradle his head when he wakes and begins to weep.


This would have been the one hundredth time you’ve done this. Even now, you could still remember the fourth time you had done this. You had accidentally left Bucky’s door ajar.

You were observant and smart. 

You knew Steve was there.

You guessed you just took a little longer that time to wake Buck up.

You definitely saw Steve’s look then. And again, this look was kind of different. It was a funny look that you had no idea how to read.

The fact that this look was so different, to say it irritated the hell out of you was an understatement. Out of the both of you, it was meant to be you that got under his skin.

You hated feeling this way.




Nowadays, you’ve been more confused than in control.

Back then, you saw Steve, you’d feel the urge to irritate the hell out of him. But now, you’d see Steve, and suddenly, you’d feel a funny feeling in your stomach.

So, naturally, you absolutely despised him for it. Tonight – or morning – when Bucky woke up, he didn’t cry. He just asked if you were hungry. And, naturally, you had said yes. You were always hungry.

Soft music was playing. You didn’t want to wake up Steve, after all. So you stood in the kitchen of your floor and began making pop tarts. Bucky was sitting by the kitchen island while you decided to cheer him up. While the pop tarts were cooking up, you decided to change the music to pop. Then you began dancing.

You were not a dancer. Add that to your list of non-existent qualities.

You sort of just threw your hands in the air and hoped for natural rhythm to save your dignity. 

Bucky looked somewhat amused, so that was the goal accomplished.

It all came to an end when Steve cleared his throat. He stared at Bucky in a way that made all of you uncomfortable. Bucky was going to be just fine, that’s what you thought, anyway. Steve thought otherwise. Steve treated him like a broken vase.

That’s how you and Bucky got so close. 

You refused to look or listen to any of Steve’s old war stories about Buck. Thus, why you called Bucky “James”.

He wasn’t the Bucky he was in the 40’s. And he wasn’t The Winter Soldier, either. He was someone else.

Steve’s eyes bounced from you, to Bucky, then from Bucky, to you. “[Y/N], maybe now isn’t the time to – ”

“No, Steve,” Steve’s eyes snapped towards Bucky, “it’s fine.” Bucky said quietly. “She’s actually making me happy here.” 

After that, nobody talked to a while. Bucky stood from his stool and began to walk off. 

You stepped towards him, “James - ”

He shook his head. “It’s alright [Y/N], trust me. I’ll be fine tonight. I’m gonna try and go back to sleep.”

Well, that was new.

You gave Bucky a funny look but nodded. “Okay. Call if you need me.”

Bucky didn’t say anything after that. He just walked back to his room.

Your pop tarts popped out from the toaster. After that it was left untouched.

Steve cleared his throat. “[Y/N] – ” 

You shook your head. “Nope.”

Steve’s forehead frowned. “What?”

“Do you want Bucky to get over what HYDRA did to him?” You asked. You didn’t wait for him to reply. “Well, too bad so sad, he isn’t going to get over it. Bucky needs to accept it. Then he needs to be angry. Then he needs to be sad. Then after all that, he needs to forgive himself.” You said, your hands on your waist. “And you making him feel like broken glass isn’t gonna help. It’ll confine him and make him feel crazy. Treat him like a normal person, you jackass. Let him feel like a man. Not a baby.” You took a deep breath and pulled your eyes away from his piercing blue ones. You looked at your pop tarts briefly before turning around and walking away.

And you didn’t miss his look when you did. Steve had already realised he was wrong the moment his eyes fell on the toaster.

You left your pop tarts.




Look number nine:

Again, it was in the kitchen. Bucky’s nightmares were slowly fading. Whenever he woke, you’d stay until he fell back asleep. Then you’d proceed to the kitchen and rummage for food.

“Hey, Supreme Leader.” Your head snapped towards the kitchen entrance.

You gave a nod to the blond man in acknowledgement. “Captain.” You said in a mocking soldier’s tone.

You both stood in silence for a while. You didn’t mind it for a while. Your arms were preoccupied with balancing cartons and containers of food as you boldly chewed on your Lucky Charms cereal – and then the silence just got too long. Steve stared at you with a funny look. Eh, eating cereal without milk at three in the morning wasn’t all that unusual – but for some reason, you had a really big feeling the look wasn’t about the cereal. That was actually the reason why Tony always complained about all the marshmallow gone in the morning. Not your fault. Marshmallows were the best part and everyone knew that.

You squinted your eyes as you watched him watch you. A silent growl of impatience rose to your throat. You couldn’t really speak so you opted with growling.

Still no reply.

Finally, you forcefully swallowed your marshmallow and pointed an accusing finger at Steve. His look was different again. It wasn’t annoyed or of frustration. Really it just frustrated you.

You huffed. “You’re looking at me funny.”

Steve just smiled softly. “Bucky loves you.” He said from his position by the entrance of the kitchen.

You just smirked and shoved another handful of marshmallows into your mouth. “Figured that one out a long time ago, Rogers.” Your hand reached into the box once again. “What can I say, I’m good at making friends.” 

Steve chuckled silently. Then he swallowed and looked directly into your eyes. “I love you. And not the way Bucky does.”

You swallowed. The you nodded slowly. Your heart felt so full, you had no idea what to say. And so you said the first thing that popped into your head. You said what you would say, and not stupid Nicholas Sparks movies.

“I know.” You grinned. “And I may or may not feel the same.” Before he could reply, your smile wiped off as you pointed your finger at him again accusingly, “I said maybe.”

Taken for Granted (pt 3)

As Namjoon closed the door behind him, he stood by the entrance, snickering to himself. “Her? Liking me? Wahh” he said silently to himself. He wasn’t sure what it was he was feeling now, but he couldn’t stop smiling. “As if I’d like her?” he said again to himself.

“Hyung what are you doing by yourself there?” Jungkook asked curiously.

“Huh? Oh nothing” Namjoon said, flustered.


(One week later)

“Hey guys, Y/N isn’t coming today! Looks like it’s just us tonight” Jin said, filling his voice through the dorm.

“Awh, whyyy” Taehyung asked, coming out of the living room.

“She said she’s sick” Jin said with a frown.

“Let’s go there then! We can bring her food” Taehyung said, excitedly.

“Yah, if she’s sick she should just rest. She can’t be taking care of you guys too” Jin scolded.

Taehyung walked back to the living room with his head held down. He was looking forward to watching the movie you two had discussed a few weeks ago, but it looks like it would have to wait another week. 

Namjoon meanwhile, listened to everything silently from the dining table. “That’s weird, she never falls sick…” he said to himself. 

“What’s that? Couldn’t hear you” Hoseok said, sitting across from him,

“oh, no it’s nothing” Namjoon said.

Keep reading

The 14 Worst Things About Hugh Hefner, as Revealed in Holly Madison's New Book

Note: these aren’t the worst things he’s ever done, but they do convey a useful insight into his character

1. Though they publicly denied it, all girlfriends were expected to participate in Hef’s bizarre bedtime group sex ritual. “I didn’t immediately realize that all girlfriends were required to sleep with Hef,” Madison writes.

2. Hef would take photos of his girlfriends and him every night before they went out, then have them delivered to each girlfriend’s door the next morning. The photos “only amplified the massive pressure to always look perfect and cause the girlfriends to spend hours critiquing their appearances,” Madison writes. (She also describes Hef as a “hoarder” with “endless desire for momentos.”)

3. Hef offered Madison a quaalude out of a crumpled tissue on her first night out clubbing with him. When Madison told him she doesn’t do drugs, she says Hef replied, “Usually I don’t approve of drugs, but you know, in the ‘70s they used to call these pills 'thigh openers.’”

4. Among his bizarre set of mansion rules, Madison writes, were that the girlfriends change into identical flannel pajamas before the bedtime routine.

5. He would watch porn, smoke pot, and jerk off while his girlfriends and whoever else happened to be joining them that night pretended to get it on around him.Madison says they would take turns pleasuring Hef, but he always finished by himself. Madison reveals that she made her first foray into Hef’s bedroom after a night out with “roughly a third of a bottle of vodka sloshing around in my stomach.” “There was zero intimacy involved,” she writes. “No kissing, nothing. It was so brief that I can’t even recall what it felt like beyond having a heavy body on top of mine.”

6. He made his sons Marston, 9 years old when Madison moved in, and Cooper, 10, share a bedroom with a girlfriend. This was Bedroom 3, which came with three beds and a private bath. “Though they never stayed over when I was there, there were still toys scattered across the bedroom floor,” Madison writes, “which made for an incredibly odd and, frankly, creepy juxtaposition.”

7. He would constantly create drama and infighting among his girlfriends by randomly changing his long-held positions or household policies to favor one over the rest of them. Shortly after Madison moved in, she recalls, one girlfriend moved out of Bedroom 5, a small room that was coveted because it was a single, affording whoever occupied it much-needed privacy that was otherwise hard to come by in the mansion. It was assumed that April, who became a girlfriend only several months before Madison, would move into Bedroom 5, but instead she asked Hef if she could have Bedroom 3 entirely to herself. This was seen as unfair by the rest of the girlfriends based on how bedroom hierarchy had previously worked. But Hef approved her request, forcing Madison to move out of the room. Hef was also known to hate red lipstick, Madison says in her book. When Madison came home from the salon after a makeover that included shorter hair and red lipstick, Hef reportedly told her, “I hate the whole look. I hate the makeup and I hate the red lipstick.” He added, “You look old, hard, and cheap.” When Kendra Wilkinson moved in later and appeared before Hef wearing red lipstick, Madison braced herself for his wrath, only for him to tell Wilkinson, “Why, that red lipstick looks absolutely wonderful on you, Kendra!”

8. Hef demanded his girlfriends be in by the 9 o'clock curfew each night. When Madison witnessed two of the girlfriends come in past 9 one night, Madison writes, Hef “kicked his feet, mustered up some questionable crocodile tears (was he really crying?I thought), and told them if they wanted to 'stay out late’ they could move out.”

9. There was no confusion as to what sort of fashion and beauty aesthetic Hef expected his girlfriends to adopt. “He made it abundantly clear that he preferred us in very over-the-top, sort of trashy outfits (think BeDazzled rhinestone bustiers and skirts so short there was barely a point in wearing them),” Madison writes. Compliments bestowed upon one girlfriend’s appearance were noted and that very look would be adopted by the rest of the girlfriends on the next night out. For attiring themselves, Hef provided each girlfriend with $1,000 weekly “clothing allowance” and unlimited beauty services courtesy of his account at the José Eber salon in Beverly Hills. Plastic surgery also came courtesy of Hef, Madison says, the most commonly requested procedures including boob jobs, nose jobs, and liposuction. (Madison writes about working up the courage to ask Hef for a nose job.)

10. The culture of isolation Hef created at the mansion even extended to his infamous parties where, Madison writes, “the protocol was that we stay at Hef’s table all night.” Dancing was permitted so long as it was right in front of Hef’s table. Girlfriends were allowed to leave only to go to the bathroom. When Hef left the party, usually at 1 a.m., the girlfriends “had to go upstairs with him.” But some of the girlfriends snuck back down to the parties to meet men and celebrities. Only, they’d have to avoid the mansion’s in-house video crew, who would place a highlight reel from the party at Hef’s door the next morning.

11. Hef would mansplain movies. “During movie nights” — which were scheduled to occur three nights out of the week at the mansion — “he would lean over to me to explain the plotlines and time periods in the most condescending of ways,” Madison writes. Describing all her dialogue with Hef as “superficial,” she said he refused to discuss books, politics, or current events with her.

12. Madison, Bridget Marquardt, and Wilkinson didn’t get paid for the first order of Girls Next Door, Madison claims in her book. She adds that Hef argued that the money the three got for posing for Playboy, which was filmed for the series, constituted their payment for the show as well. Whereas Madison reports amateur models got $25,000 for a pictorial, reality stars $40,000 to $50,000, and former girlfriends of Hef’s, the Bentley twins, got $100,000, the three Girls Next Door ladies only got $25,000 for their shoot.

13. He once told Wilkinson she looked like she was “putting on some weight,” and warned her to watch her diet.

14. He keeps a picture of every girl who’s ever been to the mansion. A mansion staffer would take photographs of women visiting for the first time, Madison says. The photos (mostly Polaroids) were saved for Hef to review the next day. “He would label them A, B, or C (based primarily on their looks but also on how scantily clad they were) before having them catalogued in his social secretary’s office,” Madison explains. Madison would eventually discover she received an “A.”

Tom Holland | Marry Me?

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Request: hi love! could you possibly do an imagine about tom proposing to you, but like can you try and make it different from the usual proposal? thank you! (send in requests)

Summary: Tom struggles to find the perfect moment to pop the question. 

Warnings: Deadass the most fluff I’ve ever written in my life

Word Count: 1.4K


Tom had been planning out your proposal for much longer than he’d care to admit to anyone, except maybe his mum; in fact, she was the first person to know about his future plans. It was right after the two of you had visited his parents home and Tom saw how well you had managed to fit into his family.  

He watched you laughing heartily with his brothers and talking avidly with his mother and he couldn’t help the smile that grew on his face as he leant against the kitchen doorway. Only one thought was running through his mind as he stared at you; I am a goner and when you glanced at him, a smile completely lighting up your face, he couldn’t help but fall in love with you all over again.

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Ballerina!Eddie meets Richie Tozier Headcanon

- Richie legitimately laughed his ass off when he found out Stan did ballet

- It was around 5:37 when Bill said he had to go pick up Stan

- At first Richie assumed that it was from a bird watching club meeting

- He didn’t really want to go back to his dorm because he had nothing to do plus Mike was out so it was empty

- Bill offered him to come along and he said yes

- The drive wasn’t too far from campus so he definitely knew it wasn’t an emergency bird watch meeting. They pulled up in front of a dance studio

- ‘A dance studio? Stan the Man actually dances?’

- ‘S-s-shut up Richie.’

- Richie could hear soft music as they walked down the halls of the building

- When they stepped into a room, richie couldn’t help but die from laughter

- Stan ‘The Man’ Uris was standing across the room wearing tights and a t-shirt

- As Stan approached the two of them he rolled his eyes knowing he’d get shit from Richie. He greeted Bill with a kiss and ignored Richie

- Richie stayed kinda quiet at first, still snickering to himself while he looked around the room

- The first words to come out of his mouth a few seconds later were ‘And here I thought you couldn’t get any more –‘

- He kinda trailed off when something caught his eye

- Across the room to the left was a boy. A pretty boy in fact

- He had his leg lifted in what Stan would later tell him was a ‘leg extension’

- ‘– gay…’

- The short boy across the room was talking to two girls

- One a red head that Richie knew to be Beverly Marsh and a brunette that Richie knew as Beverley’s roommate, Olivia whatshername

- When the boy put his leg back down and slid into a split Richie practically passed out

- This boy was tiny, flexible, and seemed so fucking cute already

- He couldn’t stop staring

- Stan nudged Bill when he saw drool start coming out of Richie’s mouth

- ‘St-stop staring at E-eddie, Rich’

- ‘Staring? What? I’m not staring, I’m admiring the view’

- On Eddie’s side of the room Liv and Bev were laughing

- ‘Don’t look now Eddie but it seems like you have an admirer’

- ‘Liv what the hell are you talking about?’

- Eddie tried to look behind him but got a smack to the head from Bev

- ‘She just said not to look oh my God’

- So he didn’t look but he wanted to

- Turns out he didn’t have to wait for long

- Richie practically dragged Stan over pestering him into introducing the two

- Eddie was confused but the looks he got from his two friends said it all

- The boy in front of Eddie had glasses that were taped with black electrical tape in the middle

- His hair was a mess, he had so many freckles and his glasses were huge

- The boy in front of Richie was short

- Of course that was the first thing he noticed

- He also noticed that he had freckles dusting his cheeks and nose

- His eyes were brown almost like his fluffy looking hair

- He glanced at Stan to say something and when he didn’t, he shoved his elbow into Stan’s side. Which in return, he got one from Stan and a sigh

- ‘Bev, Liv, Eddie meet Richie. Richie meet Bev, Liv and Eddie’

- Richie waved to the girls he already knew

- He stuck out his hand to Eddie with a smile

- Eddie of course was hesitant, this was a stranger…who knew where his hands had been!

- He timidly shook Richie’s hand though

- It was a surprise that the two got to talking quickly

- Richie seemed to ask Eddie questions that were basically challenges in his eyes

- ‘I bet you can’t lift your leg OVER your head’

- He almost tripped over himself when Eddie did it. And he almost died when he tried to do it

- The two exchanged numbers when Eddie had to leave as Bev’s boyfriend Ben showed up (he was Eddie’s ride)

- ‘I’ll text you soon Eds!’

- ‘Never call me that ever again’

- From then on Richie started showing up at or after practices on Mondays and Fridays

- He claimed it was to make fun of how ridiculously gay Stan looked

- But Stan called him ridiculously gay whenever he caught Richie staring at Eddie

- Which was like all the time

- Richie started showing up to recitals too

- He sat next to Ben Hanscom who came to support his girlfriend

- Surprisingly, he actually enjoyed watching everyone dance

- Eddie was constantly teased over the fact that Richie came to practically every practice and recital

- His face was always red from his friends’ pestering

- Richie always had flowers with him for each recital. He’d give Eddie a bouquet of flowers that Eddie wasn’t allergic too

- And that was tough shit to find

- ‘You did great up there Eddie Spaghetti! And you did okay Stan’

- He’d give Stan and the girls a flower every once in a while to be try and be nice

- One thing Richie liked about Ben was that Ben could listen to his gay ranting over Eddie

- Mainly because he was the same about Bev

- Mike eventually went to a recital too. He wanted to see if this ‘Eddie’ person was as good as Richie made him out to be

- Long story short, he was

- The whole group was great, not a surprise

- Mike made quick friendships with everyone because he was so nice and actually interested in what they did

- He and Ben became pretty close since they’re history nerds and Ben could tell him about the history of Ballet

- It’s completely obvious that Eddie and Richie like each other

- There’s an ongoing bet about who will make the first move

- Bill started it with Liv, Liv said Eddie but Bill said Richie

- Stan said Eddie because, ‘Richie’s too much an idiot to do something right’

- Bev said Richie and got Mike & Ben to join in too because why not. Literally everyone except Stan and Liv said Richie would

- Eddie had been practicing so hard for a month straight on the one move he had to do during that dance

- He was completely dedicated but so worried he couldn’t do it

- He practiced for what seemed for ever. He got encouragement from everyone though

- Richie would take him to the studio on weekends for extra practices

- He’d sit to the side and just watch how graceful his crush friend was

- The night of the recital, Richie sat in the front row watching. The other Losers, who weren’t dancing, sat next to him supporting

- Eddie nailed the move he was worried over

- The Losers cheered for him because ‘HELL YEAH THAT’S MY FRIEND UP THERE’

- Richie cheered the loudest duh

- When the recital was over, Bill gave Stan a kiss, Ben held Beverly close and sweetly

- Liv stood alone because she’s a loser. Mike talked with everyone while Richie stood with Eddie

- Richie gave Eddie his flowers and congratulated him

- ‘See? There was nothing to worry about, you did great Eds’

- Eddie didn’t acknowledge the nickname he loved hated

- He took the flowers with a smile and took Richie by surprise when he raised up on his toes for a kiss

- It was a little awkward as Richie wasn’t expecting it, but it was cute at the same time

- Of course you had their friends in the background shouting

- ‘I told you bitches that he’d do it now pay me my fucking money’

- ‘Shut up Liv, but I want my money too guys’

Hoseok

BOYFRIEND BANGTAN | HOSEOK VERSION 

WORD COUNT: 1,534

FLUFF FLUFF FLUFF with the lightest most PG mention of sex

Originally posted by syubto

masterlist | ask

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You Bet [Part 2]

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Henderson!Reader

Request(s): A freaking lot

Word Count: 3233… too long I hate it

Song: Shook Me All Night Long by ACDC for no reason other than I love that song

Summary: Steve is awfully distracted by your getup for helping out at the Snow Ball

Warning(s): Smut (duh), Swearing (have you met me), arguing (Nancy and the reader), Jonathan being the coolest, Dustin being a little shit, this is really basic honestly it’s pretty bad

Author’s Note: IT’S HERE! FUCKING FINALLY! THIS HAS BEEN DONE FOR LIKE A WEEK I JUST HAVEN’T GOTTEN AROUND TO POSTING! I’M SO SORRY! Anyway, this probably isn’t that amazing but it could be worse i’m somewhat okay with how it turned out

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combined two prompts: (Imagine Pennywise falling in love with you after stalking you for months Could we get a fic where Pennywise is absolutely in love with the reader and just completely adores them and doesn’t understand why he feels that way and why he can’t help feeling that way) + this is very long, oops, I really like it though :)

Imagine:

  • he had seen you walking by the sewer drain
  • he was looking for prey but something about you kept him quiet
  • he felt compelled to just watch you
  • so he did
  • took notice of how you moved, what you were wearing, the way your hair was styled, the way you nervously picked at the hem of your shirt
  • he gulped
  • he saw you again a few weeks later
  • followed you home
  • convinced himself it was because you’d be good prey
  • but couldn’t let himself hurt you
  • something about you was offbeat, so he decided to just watch you and stay invisible from your vision
  • he watched you draw, stare out your window, sleep, became completely obsessed with waiting for you to do something he hadn’t seen you do yet
  • he had never been so drawn to a human
  • something he was supposed to be preying on
  • you were twisted and dark, drew disturbing images in your sketchbook and stared aimlessly out the window
  • he wished and wished he could see inside your head, what was haunting you
  • he didn’t know what he was doing here in your room, wasting his time, taking up so much energy trying to stay hidden
  • he would hide under your bed, morph into a bird and sit on the tree outside your window
  • one night he saw you changing and found new emotions erupting inside of him as he looked all over your body, something he had never even thought to notice in the ways he was now
  • every unique curve of your body
  • he wanted to feel
  • he wanted to know what it felt like to have you stare into his eyes
  • would you be scared? confused? excited?
  • day after day he watched you
  • weeks passed, and he went out of his way to check on you and see what you were doing
  • he was a curious clown, and enjoyed seeing you do new human things: brush your hair, clean your room, dance in your room to music
  • he felt a sick sort of pleasure knowing you thought no one was watching you, and seeing you do things you would only do in the privacy of your home
  • you touched yourself, made noises that sounded like you were in pain but he assumed no one would cause so much pain to themselves as often as you did
  • he soon figured out what you were doing, something he became even more curious about as the weeks passed
  • he saw your fingers move inside of yourself, and he wondered if his longer, thicker fingers could make you moan even louder than you made yourself
  • he felt something awakening in parts of himself he didn’t know existed
  • weeks turned to months and by now he had spent countless hours watching you
  • you had a bad habit of walking around at night
  • wandering into the woods too close to dusk
  • he felt obligated to follow you then
  • he couldn’t control it, he had no other obligations
  • he was just frustrated with the why part
  • why were you always on his mind?
  • why didn’t he know you yet??
  • why did he want to protect you
  • maybe because he had spent all this time focused on you, it’d be a shame if someone hurt you
  • that thought was quickly expelled just a few weeks later when he found himself completely taken with thoughts of you
  • he scribbled your name on random objects
  • left trinkets and gifts around areas you frequented in hopes that you might pick one up and take it home, and it could be like a secret gift you didn’t even know he had given you
  • he watched other couples touch each other, fueling his imagination with ways he could touch you and hold you and kiss you
  • god, he wanted to kiss you
  • he had never done any of this stuff before and the desire to just know what it felt like was powerful
  • you didn’t even know he existed! and yet he was thinking all of this
  • the more time passed, the deeper and dirtier his thoughts got
  • he wanted to know why you had watched the same movie 4 times in the span of a couple months
  • he wanted to know why you wore the same shoes every day
  • how you decided to wear your hair in different styles everyday
  • your inspiration for the drawings you made
  • what it would feel like to hold your hand
  • kiss your lips?
  • kissing looked so soft and nice he wanted to try
  • how he could hold you
  • what you thought of when you touched yourself
  • How could he get you? What would it take?
  • all this time thinking about you and conjuring up ways different scenarios could play out
  • how would he approach you?
  • not scare you?
  • he wanted so badly to have you
  • and you were going to be his
  • he just had to figure out a way to do it first…

(thinking about making a part two…)