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brighttears · 1 year

Text

Filth III

No use of y/n, no physical description other than having hair

Summary: You have a nice but not quite peaceful morning in the motel before you are interrupted by intruders, but then another stranger comes along to break it up, though his intentions are unclear.

Word count: 5.9k

Warnings: pet name (baby), fluff, y’all are madly in love, biting, some weird animalistic shit going on, not quite smut, vulnerable!Joel, light violence

A/n: a little weirdness in this chapter but what can i say… the next one gets nasty tho. once again enjoying this fic hope y’all do too :3

series masterlist

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You wake slowly, daylight bleeding through the thin curtains casting pink tinted light into the room. Your eyes wander, remembering where you are; faded, peeling wallpaper, settled dust over every surface—a dirty, decaying motel. Four walls and a roof, quiet outside. More than good enough. As you sigh, your hand curls in, arm tingling, and your fingertips brush through hair, and you remember Joel in your arms. A sleepy smile spreads over your lips as your eyes fall onto him, still resting against your chest, your other hand still intertwined with his. Your body heat matches and makes it almost feel like you’re one person meshed into one, curled around each other in this motel. For a moment, it feels… normal, like you’re just two people, spending a night in a motel, and you hang onto the quiet feeling. You twirl your finger, idling in the locks on the back of his head. Joel’s breaths are slow and deep.

“I love you.” You tell him again, a whisper of air from your lips. Like breathing.

His body twitches, and you almost regret it as his eyes start to open, not wanting to wake him, but then they meet yours, and your heart swells at the sight. His eyes are one of those things about him that are stupidly pretty, fitting him perfectly, and ridiculously endearing. They’re dazed, as if opening from a deep dream, but it doesn't take long at all for them to fade into recognition. A smirk slowly tugs his cheek, and his hand cracks away from yours for him to lazily brush over your cheek.

“Good morning.” You croak, smile pulling wider.

“Mornin’.” He croaks back, voice deep and gravely.

There’s a sweet twinge in you just at that sound, another something new from him, and you realize that there’s a lot more to learn, to see, to hear from him. As you ponder, you stare for a moment, then sigh a smile and raise yourself to crawl over him, feeling over the floor for the panties from last night. You slink into them, the half-a-size-too-small waist band hugging your hips. You hear Joel let out a small groan, a lazy hand brushing over your thigh as you move back to fall down on your side to face him. A smirk tugs his cheek higher and his hands are immediately on your face, fingertips skimming over your lips, and you close your eyes as they wander up for a featherlight touch over your eyelids. His thumb brushes over your eyebrow, index sliding down the length of your nose before he curls his touch around your jaw.

When you open your eyes, there's a strange look in his, a sort of tentativeness, a splash of sadness within tenderness. Joel is a reticant man, and though sometimes his thoughts and intentions are easy to see—such as the hunger you’ve grown to know well—often, he’s enigmatic; and all it does is pull you closer to him. You swirl around the drain, gone more for him every day, every hour, every catching gaze, every touch.

Though his face is quiet, his eyes are full, heavy and holding. His knuckles brush your cheek, slow and gentle, those deep brown eyes enthralling you. After a long moment, he leans in and presses his lips softly against yours. You hold it just like that for a moment, and it has your mind spinning like a top, before his lips part and kiss deepens. It remains slow, warm, and savory. After another entrancing moment of his lips moving with yours, Joel’s hand shifts down, his thumb under your jaw with his palm on the side of your neck to tilt your head back, and he moves his lips to your cheek before coming over your neck, and you close your eyes. The skin is tender, you haven’t gotten a chance to see the damage, but you’re sure it's spotted black and blue and red. And there he is on it again, kissing over his marks, gentle lips this time. He has such a potent range to him, this such a perfect example. You want all of him. Every little piece.

When his tongue pokes out between his lips to press against your neck, your chest flutters, and he proceeds with wet kisses along the length of your throat.

Nobody has ever touched you like Joel, never this breed of intimacy, and you’re enraptured. All you can hear are the wet kisses, his small breaths, and the slow curl of sheets in your hand in an unconscious pull at them from the leaping pleasure of his touch. He pulls back only enough to whisper, the sensation of his breath over damp skin making your lips part, but the frustration in his unintelligible words is a prevailing distraction.

You pull away, taking his face in your hands to look at him. “What is it?” You whisper, brow pinching in concern. Joel swallows, trying to keep your gaze, but his eyes dart around, a loose hand closing around your wrist. Examining his demeanor, you yearn to crawl into him, to find your way into his brain so you can find his unease and soothe it, brush away the worry, kiss it better, to climb into his throat and dig his voice free; but all you can do is ask, looking for his gaze with a silent urge for him to release whatever he’s holding in.

When his darting eyes start to well up with tears, the glinting waterlines throw a shock of dismay through you and you roll over him, resting your torso over his. You keep your face in his hands as you pleadplead in a murmur, “Hey, what is it? What’s wrong?” You plead in a murmur. Joel’s breaths start to become shallow, body tensing underneath you, and he can barely look at you at all. A tear slips from his eye, and you wipe it away with your thumb on sight, and it aches. “Joel, baby, it’s okay,” you nearly whimper. His lips quiver with uncertainty, as if trying to speak, faltering each time, and he shuts his eyes with a shaky sigh as another tears slips out. “It’s okay, it’s okay, relax, Joel.” In an attempt to soothe the tension behind them, you brush your thumbs over the supple skin under his eyes, telling him, “Relax, love, it’s okay, you can relax.” He shudders a sigh, lips still quivering as the dam holding back sobs and failing words. Every part of you aches, heart quavering in your chest as you watch him struggle with himself. You want him to feel safe with you, know that he is safe with you, that he can let go. “It’s okay, you can cry, Joel, you can cry if you need to,” you assure him quietly, smoothing loving touches over his face. It seems to be the final straw for him, you watch, heart wrenched, his lip parts with quivers as the tears start to fall.

Joel tries to slide his arms between you to hide his face, but you press yourself closer, blocking his move by pressing kisses over it instead. The salty tears wet your lips as you plant them over his cheeks, his temples and forehead, eyebrows and closed lips. You kiss his nose, the corner of his mouth, his chin. Joel whimpers, followed by a small shaking sob, and you kiss his lips, wanting to suck it all out of him, free him, and you feel yourself beginning to cry with him. It's harrowing, seeing someone you love break, earth shattering when it’s for the first time. You're filled with panic and aching and sorrow, and hear yourself whimper as you press your lips against his.

His hands come up to your cheeks to keep your face against his, and the kisses become more frantic, that desperate need for each other slipping in abruptly. Joel’s strong arm wraps your back, squeezing, pressing your body into his, and sparks light up your brain. Your tongues press and teeth clack, breaths becoming heavier, limbs throwing and sliding and gripping. In a frenzied surge, you begin rolling around the bed, nearly grappling, attached, pushing each other into the bed as you kiss like you’re burning alive.

“Joel,” comes out of you as you press yourselves together harshly, wildly, and straddle him to kiss all over his face again. Devotion pours out of your lips and onto his skin, finger tangling in his hair as you land your lips over him blindly. Hastily, you climb down, arms pressed against his chest, nudging your face into his neck to kiss his throat like he’d kissed yours, worshiping the voice held within it. As you move, you feel his jugular against your lips, and you blaze, mouth reaching almost around the back of his neck in urgency to show every inch of him how much you want him, how much you love him. You pull his shirt to kiss his collarbone and shoulder, and Joel pushes his hand over the back of your head, holding you there with a soft moan. You reach for it, taking his hand in yours to kiss his fingertips, his knuckles, his palm, his wrist, the pumping veins. It travels up his forearm, your eyes screwed shut, suddenly overwhelmed by the love you feel for him. Your lips press over the soft pit of his elbow, his round bicep and shoulder, back to the base of his jaw and finally back up to his lips is a futile attempt to show him just how much you adore him. And though he whimpers into your kiss and clings to you with both arms wrapped around you, it doesn’t feel like enough. You don’t know what to do, lost in the love, drowning in it, and you cling right back, tears starting to squeeze out of your eyes.

The warmth of his body, his lips, his breath, his lips and tongue his teeth against yours swarms you, and you kiss aggressively, grabbing at each other, bunching up the fabric rifting your bodies, and the ilk of his grasp tells you that he’s just as lost in you as you are in him. You whimper at the thought.

If there were any word to describe this, all of this, to describe you and Joel, it would be desperate. Always desperate. You’ve never felt this kind of love; the totality, the carnal, absolute need to have and to hold and to express it. You kiss in a frenzy, messy, loud, drinking in your own personal elixir, and from your lips comes an endless flow of “I love you, I love you, I love you,”

Joel whimpers, his nails digging into you as he clutches you, and you’re soaked to the bone in vehemence. You feel like you’re losing it, your mind, control of yourself, something you didn’t even know was held back. You grab, anything, everything, and devour. You don’t know what’s happening to you. All you know is Joel. He wraps his legs around your waist, holding you as close as he can, and you kiss almost violently, but it’s not enough. Opening your mouth wider, it’s barely kissing at this point, just a deluge. You’ve never felt this level of passion, of need for another person in every way, above anyone, anything.

Both of your bodies move almost uncontrollably, desperate for something that you aren’t sure how to reach, but all you do is try. It’s not kissing, and it’s not sex, it’s making love. Every fiber of your being is intent on loving him. It’s overpowering.

You writhe on the bed together, wrapped around each other in every way possible, kissing feverishly, Joel basically bucking into you, his legs now intertwined serpentine with yours, like he’s trying to push himself into your body itself, as if trying to become one with you. You hold on.

Impulsively, your mouth moves to his neck, and you bite. You get it now. Why his teeth were so adamant to come over your skin. You want more. More of him. And you want him to know. You want him to be yours, and the intent has you crying. You bite his neck, his trap, pulling at his shirt again to sink your teeth into the flesh of his shoulder, gnawing in an insane expression of love, and he moans, loud and breathy and open mouthed and almost a whine, a sound you’ve never heard before. He clutches you tight, nails digging into you so much it hurts but it’s love, love, love. Every part of each of you is becoming something else, some kind of animals you've created from and for one another. You writhe and buck and squeeze and bite and kiss in a craze of adoration.

Joel grabs your hair, nearly yanking your lips back on his, kissing again loudly, wet and hard. He suddenly flips you onto your back with a fleeting growl, lowering the weight of his hips over yours, and you automatically wrap your legs around them. His lips drag to your neck, kissing and licking and sucking, and your mouth falls open, fingers reaching under his shirt to drag your nails over his soft yet muscular back, and his skin is hot to the touch. You’re loud, but you are barely even aware of it, and you tumble over each other again, wrestling for more, more, more, never enough. Your writhe and snake and press, mouth and hands and every part of yourself searching and landing and sliding and bracing and grabbing, and you can’t let go.

After a while, Joel’s body ends up on yours, rolling over you to press you into the bed in waves, but it begins to slow. Hands running up his back to grasp his shirt, you whimper, legs holding him tight as his mouth passes from yours to your neck and back, and by now you’re basically covered in each other's saliva. His breaths are heavy, lips eventually landing on yours as the smacking kisses ease, starting to actually part into the common kiss. He sighs deeply, letting his body weight relax into you, and, for the sake of your breathing, you push him off to lay yourself on top. Both out of breath and nearly exhausted, the kisses become gentle, and Joel throws his arms lazily around your waist, still trying to keep you close. When you part, Joel slides his fingers slowly over your cheeks, brushing away the ears, and you almost chuckle, doing the same to him.

Your Joel. So sweet. So secretly affectionate. You barely saw any of this before that first time you had sex, though that time was a bit… different than affection, but Joel barely touched you at all before that—only when necessary. No matter how much he tried to hide that he cared, you knew he did, and maybe if you had cried before he would have done this, but nevertheless, you can’t say you would have expected it. But he’s a sweetheart. You doubt that he would have cried in front of you at any point before this. As your fingers brush over his face, you’re filled again with the intensity of your feelings for him. You would do anything for him. You would go through hell to serve him the world on a platter. All the good parts. Only the good parts. Because it’s all he deserves.

And he deserves to be able to be soft. And here he is, in your arms. You could almost start crying again.

“Joel I love you so much I could die.” You admit.

He pulls you into a long, slow kiss, and then, he takes your head in his hand, gently lowering it to rest over his chest. His heartbeat thumps against your ear, and you sigh. The life in him is just below you, he, who only days ago was nothing but a yearning, is now wrapped around you, right next to you, with you. His hands skim over your hair and back, breathing slowing against your body. You want him to be yours. Yours only. You the only one to hear his heartbeat like this. You the only one he holds, he the only one you hold. You want him to be just as yours as you are his.

After a moment, he pulls away, shifting up to sit on the bed but keeping you on his lap. Not wanting to break contact, your hands slide over his body, and you look at him. Silently, he looks back over your face, palm skimming down the back of your head, fingertips dancing over your features. One slides down to your chest, landing right over your heart, and you take a deep breath, his gaze finally meeting yours. That strange look is back in his eyes, a wash of emotions, seemingly everything all at once. Your heart beats against his hand, and it’s as if there's nothing between the organ and his skin. It beats, beats, beats, and you think that it might just be for him. For him to hold right in his hand. Your life, your mind, everything, everything, everything.

Your mind drifts to that first moment.

“I want something from you.”

“What?”

“Everything.”

“It’s yours. You can take it. Anything. I’m yours.”

Looking up at him, back into those easy brown eyes, you sigh deeply, your own promise filling your ears. I’m yours, I’m yours, I'm yours.

Joel leans his forehead against yours, and you exchange breaths in silence. Connected.

He starts to whisper something, but cuts himself off, sighing, then shifts himself from under you to stand. His body faces slightly away from you, left on the bed, watching him, sitting with your shins under you. Waiting. He shifts his weight, mouth opening and then closing, trying fruitlessly to meet your eyes, brow briefly pinching in frustration. Patiently, you wait.

Eventually, he looks at you, face softening, though a slight pain remains. How deeply you wish to know what he’s thinking, what he needs, what he wants, what you can do. You wait.

“...I love you.” He says softly. There's a light, resentful lilt, and though the words are finally yours to hear from his lips, you feel lost in them, puzzled by his tone, but then he says it again, louder, like a finalization, “I love you.” When he turns towards you and his eyes meet yours, his face softens, and he starts to repeat, “I love you, I love you, I love you I love you I love you,” barely even waiting between words as he repeats it over and over again. Your chest thrashes, starting to breathe heavier, and you watch him as he walks closer, taking your face in his hands. “I love you, I love you.”

After another deep sigh, breathing in—his words, his scent, the musty air in this tiny motel, the trace of home for the night, because when he's there it feels like home, everything about right this second—you shift your head to rest against his chest as he stands in front of you. Your breaths are even and calm, but your entire body is snaked and swirled by the strange feeling that you think is what you’ve seen in Joel’s eyes.

As much of a solace this love feels like, love is trouble. Love means loss. Love means fear. Love promises agony. These byproducts are nothing you’re not already well acquainted with, but the love between you and Joel is new, both in time and caliber. Within your heart slowly punches up the feeling that would be there if he was gone, but knowing that he’s here now battles with it, striking swords and switching blood as you lay your head against his chest.

As he speaks, you feel his words rumbling against you. “Stay with me. Please. Promise me,” he says with a sorrowful urgency, arms tightening around your shoulders, “you’ll stay, please, don’t leave me. I’ll do anything, just please don’t leave me.”

You raise yourself to stand, placing your hands on either side of his neck, keeping your gaze locked together, and you want to scream it, but, also wanting it to be for his ears only, you keep your voice soft. Only for him, “Every part of me loves you, I’m yours, and I always will be. Everything, I’ll give you everything, just to be with you. I can’t leave you. Now that you’re here, I can’t. I promise, I promise, I’m yours, and I need you, I need you, I need you,” you tell him with grave earnestness, holding him and hoping the intensity in your eyes shines through. Joel looks right back with a look you’ve never seen before, and something you can’t describe, but it’s clear, and you feel like it belongs to you. Like this look is for you alone. His warm, calloused hands cup your face, and you hold each other, staring intently as the words pass between you.

“Don’t go. I’ll go insane if you do. I can’t lose you.” His words come out almost in a whisper.

“I won’t, I won’t, I won’t go,” you whisper back, shaking your head gently in his hands, brow furrowed.

It’s a scary world for words and promises like this, but right now all you feel is fuck the world, fuck god, fuck science and chance and fate and death, you’ll never leave Joel. You’ll never leave him alone. At this point, you don’t think you can be without him. Something inside you has finally snapped, and you’ve fallen forward into it, and you’re stuck there now. If he dies, you do, too. But until then, you will stay with him, keep him safe, keep him close. As long as you live. And you will die together, that’s the only way this can end.

Joel’s hands shift, pulling your face closer. “Please stay with me. I can’t keep going alone. Please, let me take care of you, let me love you.”

“I will, I will, I will,” you tell him, and the desperation between you is audible. “I’m yours, I’m yours, I’m yours,” you repeat in a whisper, feeling like you could never say it enough, you need him to know it, in his bones, that you’re his, forever.

He closes his eyes, leaning his forehead against yours and he shakes ever so slightly, like he’s forcing the words out in a deep voice, “I’m so in love with you. I love you and I need you and I want your hands all over me all the time and I love it when you kiss me… god, I love you, please don’t go.”

“I won’t, I won’t, I won’t go,” you whisper, tears once again threatening your eyes knowing how difficult it is for him to even speak these words to begin with, which shows just how deep his beg is, “I’ll be here. Everything, everything, Joel, I’m yours.”

He holds you tighter, bunching your hair in his hands. “You’re so beautiful, an’ everything about makes my head fuckin’ spin. I love everythin’ about you. Every little thing. I love all of it. All of you.” Slowly, pulls you into an embrace, and your cheek is against his chest again, heartbeat thumping against your ear. “I’ll do fuckin’ anyting for you.” He whispers.

It seems like the most obvious thing to say next: “All I need is you.” And it’s true, he’s the one. The only one. And you know he’ll protect you. And you’ll do anything you can for him and more and anything he asks. Anything he wants. And as long as you’re together, it’ll be okay, and even when it isn’t, you’ll figure it out. You and him, he and you, against the world. You almost feel stupid with all this corny shit in your head and on your lips, but it’s just true. And there’s nothing you can do about it. You’re in it now. You and him, he and you.

As you let your weight fall against him, his arms around you, you feel so incredibly lucky to have met him, to get the chance to know him, for him to have let you in like he has. To be able to touch and kiss and hold him, to hear him, have him, love him, and for him to love you back. And that you have time. You don’t know how much, and you doubt it’ll ever be enough, but you have time.

For a while, you stay like that, holding each other, simply soaking it all in, before the world interrupts in the form of faint voices coming from outside. Joel’s demeanor instantly switches, entire body tightening as he pulls away from you to look out the window through the thin curtains. Then he pulls you to the wall perpendicular to the door, his eyes intense as he looks at you, pressing a silencing finger to his lips. Even after all this time, your heart still hammers in situations like this, and, being with Joel, you’re being caught off guard constantly; maybe it’s dangerous to be so lost in each other, but fuck it, it makes it worth it.

You hear footsteps nearing, a group, and they chat casually. You take a breath to pull yourself together, and remember you need pants. Quickly and quietly, you take the pair off the floor and pull them on, then take your gun out of its holster on your belt. Joel grabs his jacket off of the bed to shrug back onto his shoulders, then hands you your pack from the floor before he slings his own on, and locks the door. After reassembling yourselves, you go back to pressing your bodies against the wall. Joel slides over to lean his eye to the peephole, then gestures for you to come closer. You look through after him and through dusty and smeared glass you see the blurry silhouettes of four people nearing the motel. Though you can’t see them well, you can hear them, and they sound completely oblivious, laughing and talking without a care in the world. Negligent idiots, you think

Joel pulls your arm back and you go back to the wall. “We wait.” He tells you quietly with those intense eyes, “We keep quiet, and we wait. No sound, no movement, nothing.” You nod, and then Joel presses his body flat against the wall, one hand resting protectively over your stomach with the other holding his gun. As the sounds grow nearer, he cocks his gun, you following suite, taking deep, calming breaths. Even if they’re idiots, you need to be ready.

The group starts going through the motel, faint sounds of them kicking around debris, still chatting. One of them, a man, says, “Nothing here,” and then another, a woman, says, “There’s still the second floor.” You hear their footsteps coming up the stairs then, and just as you had started to calm it, your heart rate picks back up. They start at the other end of the balconied hallway, taking their agonzing time to make it to your room. As the footsteps become louder, you look at Joel, but all he does is raise his fingers back to his lips.

Then, they’re at your door. The doorknob turns, and a young man’s voice says, “Hey, this one’s locked.” Panic buzzes in your body and you look back up at Joel, but his eyes are glued on the door. From your position, you notice that if the door opens, it will open towards you, but the room is set up for there to be just enough room on the wall beside it to fit its swing, and standing perpendicular, you will be ready to shoot down whatever comes through it.

The voices on the other side are loud as they discuss the door.

“It’s an old door,” comes the young man's almost squeaky voice, “it’d be easy to pick.”

“What, you got a fucking lock picking set on you?” The woman mocks, “I say we just shoot the lock off.”

Your eyes squeeze shut momentarily, riddled with pulsing fear, and tug Joel’s sleeve to get him to look at you, your eyes silently pleading, what do we do? He brings his mouth to your ear, speaking almost inaudibly, “Don’t move, don’t talk, just wait. If I say hide, hide. If I say shoot, shoot. If I say run, run.” You nod, and he presses his forehead against your temple before looking back at the door.

The doorknob jiggles again.

“What, you didn’t believe me?” Says the young man.

“Shut up.” Says the woman.

“Shooting it would be too loud. Let’s just kick it in.” Says a new voice, low and nasally.

“Why don’t we just leave it?” Comes another deep voice. “The rest of it’s empty. I doubt there's anything in there ‘cept for some dead body.”

“No, I bet there’s someone in there.” Says the woman.

“Well, if there is, who knows what they’re packing? Could be a whole group.”

Fucking idiots. You think again. If they had any brains at all, they, first of all, wouldn’t have announced their presence in the first place, and even if they had, they would not be loudly discussing their plans with the idea of anyone being in the room. Now, you know how many there are, how they plan on coming into the room, and some of their dynamics. The men seem to be somewhat subordinate to the woman, who continues to speak adamantly about getting into the room while the others sound hesitant to attack without provocation. At this point, they’re shamelessly arguing, and it actually begins to calm your nerves some.

“I’m not leaving until we see what’s in this fucking room.” The woman concludes loudly. After a moment, there’s a loud bang on the door, and another, the doorknob tremoring and you flinching with each hit. Nevermind intelligence, there’s four of them and two of you, and you’re stuck in a room. You still don’t know what Joel wants to do, his focus unwavering on the door. Does he want to just shoot them as they come in? You’re hesitant to the idea, but then remember what Joel told you yesterday. Kindness is dangerous. If he says shoot, you shoot. So you will.

There’s another loud bang on the door and your body jumps with another flinch, but you breathe deep in and outs, trying to calm yourself down, be ready—to shoot, or wait, or hide, or run.

As more kicks land, the woman shouts over them, “Keep trying! I am not fucking leaving until we get this damn door open!” Joel grips his gun, face hard. After one final bang, the lock finally cracks.

The door creaks, banging lightly on the wall as it falls open, but no one jumps in, as you had expected them to. You and Joel remain completely still, fingers on your triggers. Slowly, hands raise up through the door, holding a handgun straight out. “Come on.” The woman demands the rest quietly, and then she eases into the room. She has long, tangled blonde hair that rests over her shoulders, with beady eyes that narrow as she turns her stance towards you and Joel. All he does is raise his gun towards her, so that’s all you do, too. Still mostly in the doorway stand the other three. One of them, a man with a messy mop of dark hair, holds a shotgun in a less than professional grip. A shorter man, sporting a dirty, puffy red vest, holds a baseball bat, while the last, shorter and thinner than the rest, holds a machete. They stare blankly at the two of you, glancing at the woman. Joel remains tense, but does not move. The woman’s face hardens, eyes trained on him, her gun aimed directly at his forehead.

What the fuck is going on here? Why hasn’t Joel shot? Why hasn’t she? Why is nobody fucking moving?

Joel’s face is steely, brow quirked in a frown. The woman’s lips curl into a sneer as she takes a slow step forward, the barrel of her gun mere inches from his forehead.

“Don’t fucking move.” You spit unthinkingly. The anxiety is gone, though your heart still pounds, now filled only with the thought of Joel’s safety.

Her face hardens further, then twitches, her hand tightening on the gun, and you can tell she’s more than ready to pull the trigger.

Your mind races, assessing the situation. You want to shoot her now, but you know that if you do, her hand will tense and she’ll fire a bullet right into Joel’s brain. You need her to point it at you. Then you’ll move—duck and fire, and then you and Joel will shoot the rest of them down. You need to get her agitated, get her mad at you, but you can’t let on how much you care about Joel because she’ll surely use it against you. You search your mind for something to say.

“I said back the fuck off.” You nearly shout at her. “It’ll be a waste of a bullet. We don’t have anything, and we haven’t done shit to you.” You continue to talk loudly, trying to get her attention on you. She raises her eyebrow, seeming to be surprised by your defiance. These are some ballsy motherfuckers, thinking they’re so smart, so in charge, despite how idiotic their behavior has never ceased to be. Her face remains hard, but she adjusts her grip on her gun, considering what to do next. Finally, she turns to you, cocking her gun as she points it at your forehead. It wasn’t even fucking cocked? You know what, whatever—“We checked the motel, there’s nothing here. Unless you’re interested in some jewelry,” you tell her venomously, cocking your head towards the desk where the few dusty pieces of jewelry lay strewn by the woman who stayed here decades before you.

Her eyes narrow, eyes flicking towards the desk and then back at you. Slowly, her finger tightens ever so slightly on the trigger, calculating whether or not she wants to shoot, when a voice cuts the silence, causing everyone to freeze in place, then whip their head towards the doorway.

There’s a man leaning against the balustrade outside, older, with almost neck length, wavy, graying hair, and a short beard. He’s thin but muscular, wearing a gray button up tucked into his jeans, secured with a thick leather belt. Well groomed, you notice. Holding a fat pistol loosely at his side, his voice is gruff; annoyed, but casual, sort of slow, with a western twang.

His head is tilted as he speaks, face calm, “I could hear all you dumbasses from a mile away. What are you, a bunch a idiots? If there were any Infected ‘round here, they would have already eaten y’all up. And, as I’m sure you have noticed, this place is picked clean. There’s nothin’ to find. So, what I’m wonderin’ is what, exactly, are you still doin’ here?”

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mrsbsmooth · 8 months

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Suzi, now… before the reveal I NEED you to rank the islanders based on their names and resumes (we mostly have similar opinions Id love to see your prospective)

Oh you NEED it well then okay I guess I gotta do it 😂 y’all wild.

Note: this does NOT indicate which LI I’m going for this season. I’m waiting for the rest of the sprites because I’m ✨ shallow ✨

Anyway, here you go!

(Hope this doesn’t come back to bite me in the ass)

Season 8 islanders ranked worst to best

Based on nothing but their applications

#8 Sports Physio (Jack)

Cyclist. Last place.

#7 Wedding planner (Emel)

Hannah/Juliet hybrid. Thinks she knows everything about love. “Can always tell when a couple aren’t right for each other”, now wouldn’t that be convenient if you’re coupled with someone she wants??? It sucks because she sounds so smart and cultured and I hope she’s nice, but I just have a feeling they’re gonna make her the villain.

#6 Acrobat (Sophie)

She could be interesting, but she’s screaming “I’m quirky! Look at me! Want to watch me do a handstand?” Like come on, at least Rohan had a personality outside of his job. It might end up being endearing like Tim with his rap career but somehow I don’t see it happening. I hope not though because I do so love the Irish.

#5 Cat Cafe Manager (Luna)

Idk what it is about her she just sounds laaaaaaame. And this is coming from someone with a cat who adores them more than life itself. One of those people who makes coffee their whole personality, you know??? I feel like she’s gonna be Thabi from S4 but without the personality quirks that made her unique.

#4 Firefighter (Oakley)

He sounds a little boring but I have a feeling he is going to be like, next level hot. Like NEXT LEVEL hot. I’m immediately picturing Blaze from Love Is Blind (Netflix Game) and if he is I might die. 6’3!?!?!?!? Strong silent type, Jake Wilson-esque, might be our “slow burn” (😏) of the season because I feel like one of the girls is gonna latch her claws into him like that cat he saved and NEVER LET GO.

#3 Underwear Model (Jin)

Don’t get me wrong, he’s gonna be hotter than the sun, but honestly his personality is just boring to me. It might be how it’s written, but the whole “I’m funny because I tell you I’m funny” is getting a bit old. I hope he’s got a serious/romantic side to him (a la Bruno 🥰) otherwise he’s gonna get on my nerves real quick (a la Bryson 🤢).

#2 Dentist (Claudia)

I’ll be honest I’ve already seen her sprite and holy moly mother of Mary she is a STUNNER. I already know MC is gonna have nothing on her, but she’s gonna be stuck in friendship couples for her whole time in the villa because she’s a female LI. This also means she’s probably a bestie option. She seems so smart and funny, and it seems like she doesn’t take things too seriously. She’s gonna be fanfic fodder for sure.

Drumroll:

#1 Travel Photographer (Theo)

Not only is this one of my favourite names, it’s also one of my weaknesses. Greek men. Y’all saw me last season demanding Cassius and it didn’t eventuate so if Theo is as hot as he sounds I might pass away. The reformed player vibe is doing it for me so I’m REALLY looking forward to seeing if he’s all that. If nothing else he sounds like he’s going to be a huge source of entertainment and will probably get himself into a lot of trouble 😂

#I’ve been saying the even numbered seasons are better since s4 watch me prove my theory right #love island game #litg s8 #love island season 8 #love island the game #litg #come on consistent sprites COME ON

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orangeaurora · 2 years

Text

Scarlet | Chapter 3

Pairing: steve harrington x reader, best friend! eddie munson x reader

Summary: Summary: After a falling out with her childhood best friend Nancy Wheeler due to her hatred for Steve Harrington, Y/N goes on a journey of discovering she has powers and that the goosebumps she gets around Steve Harrington aren’t actually from hatred. Though these new found powers are difficult to deal with, nothing is harder than dealing with the creatures of the upside down.

SLOW BURN AF

warnings: cussing, drunk Steve, mentions of having a scar, I think that is everything.

word count: 1750

A/N: i loooooove this chapter hehe. thank you for all the love on this so far. I never even thought this would get more than 5 likes. please lemme know what y’all think, and AHHH little hints to her powers finally!!! I hope you all enjoy, happy reading cuties. <3

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I couldn’t believe that I was in Steve’s car driving him home. I was happy that he agreed to let me get him home safe, but did he deserve it? Yes, of course, he deserved it. Everyone deserves to be home safe after a long night of drinking. As I was driving, my thoughts felt like they were running a hundred miles per hour. I couldn’t stop picturing the soft expression on his face when I begged to take him home. I finally was snapped out of my thoughts when I heard sniffles from the backseat. I looked in the rearview mirror and saw a puffy, red-eyed Steve Harringon staring out the window.

“Are you doing okay?” I asked him, worried that he was feeling nauseous.

“What?” Steve said, “Yeah, I, I’m fine,” No he wasn’t. His response to my sincere question was pushed out of his chest through tears, with a slight voice crack at the end.

“You don’t look fine, Steve,” There was a long, suffocating silence as I waited for what he was going to say next. Before he could get any words out, Steve started to cry. A real cry that had audible sobs. Oh god, a drunk cry. Finally, Steve choked out an “I am so so sorry, Y/N,” huh? “What do you mean, Steve?” I was staring at him with furrowed eyebrows through the rearview mirror, trying my hardest to pay attention to the busy road in front of me. “I called you something mean,” Oh this poor boy is so drunk, was I really getting an apology right now? “Yeah, that uh, that one stung Harrington,” I knew these were drunk words, but every ounce of my being wanted to believe that the words coming out of his mouth were sincere. “You are beautiful, Y/N,” beautiful? “and I think your scar is sick.” What was happening in this car? The goosebumps were back. But these ones felt different. I wasn’t angry at Steve, so why was I feeling this way? I was trying to figure out where this new feeling was coming from when, “You and Munson are cute,” came from the back seat. I couldn’t help the laugh that escaped my mouth. “Oh no, Steve,” I said with humor in my voice, “Eddie and I are just friends.”

“Oh, I just thought cause, I don’t know, I have heard him call you ‘babe’ before,” Ah yes, the term of endearment my beloved best friend chose to call me when I told him that I have never had a nickname from a friend before. “He only calls me that because he is my best friend, it really doesn’t mean what you think Stevie.” He smiled. A small, sweet smile that looked like it was sparked by the nickname I called him. “Oh, right.” And then, silence. The rest of the car ride was spent in silence, but not an uncomfortable one as I could see Steve falling asleep leaning against the window of the back seat. This silence also gave me a reason to think about what has happened in the last 10 minutes that I have been driving. Steve Harrington called me beautiful.

As I pulled up to Steve’s house and was preparing to get out of the car, I heard snoring. Great. I got out of the car with a deep sigh escaping my lips as I was not ready to wake up a sleepy Steve. I opened the door to reveal Steve’s limp body which had thankfully moved since leaning against the window. Catching Steve in my arms wasn’t on my itinerary for the night, but yet again, nothing that happened that night was.

“Steve,” I whispered to grab his attention. Nothing. “Steve,” I said a bit louder, and still, nothing. “STEVE,” he finally woke up and looked at me with a smile, “Y/N? What are you doing at my house?” Dear lord. “Steve, you’re drunk and I drove you home, come on let’s get you inside,” Steve’s smile never faded as he looked at me through his squinty eyes. “Oh yeahhhhh, that’s so nice of you, you’re like the best person ever,” he said as he clumsily climbed out of the car. I put his arm around my shoulder and walked him up to his front door and that’s when it hit me, why the fuck did I drive Steve here with his car and not my own? Now I was going to have to call Eddie to come to get me and that meant more time with my favorite person in Hawkins, not. Steve looked down at my face “Let, lemme get my keys” he said and he started digging through his pockets. He was not as coordinated as he wanted to be and his keys, along with other things flung out of his pocket. He went to bend down and grab them before stumbling and grabbing my arm with an exaggerated “woahhhh,” leaving his mouth. I laughed and told him I got it as I picked everything off the floor for him.“Which key is for the door?” I asked still grinning, “Mmm, that one,” he pointed to the correct one and I went to unlock the door but realized my hands were full with all the stuff Steve dropped, and put everything but the keys in the pockets of my tiny white shorts. Steve started to walk inside but bumped aggressively into one of the side tables in his family’s living room. “Okay clumsy, sit down before you break anything,” I said to him with a smile on my face. He obliged and layed on the couch but I could tell he wasn’t doing great. “I need to call Eddie to come to get me, Steve, do you need anything?” He looked up at me again with those caramel eyes, butterflies. “Water,” was all he said. “Yeah, of course.” I brought him a glass of water and sat down at the foot of the couch, “Anything else?” I asked one more time. “Nuh-uh,” Steve said as he closed his eyes and cuddled into the couch deeper. “Okay, I’ll be right back, Harrington” I started to walk away when I heard the smallest, “Okay, Nancy” come from Steve’s mouth. I paused in my tracks and felt an energy surge through my fingertips. I balled my hands into fists due to the new sensation in my hands and for a few seconds, all I could focus on was how weird my fingers felt until I heard Steve say “Nancceee,” His voice shook me out of my trance as I shook my arms loose and I walked into the kitchen to call my best friend to come to pick me up.

The phone was ringing for an uncomfortable amount of time before I finally heard Eddie’s voice on the other end of the phone. “Hello?”

“Eddie, it’s Y/N, I am at Steve’s and fucking brought his car instead of mine, will you please come pick me up?” I heard a sigh, “You know, I love you Y/N, but you’re kind of dumb” Eddie says as he laughs, “Yes, Munson, I know. Now please come get me before Steve Harrington drives me insane,” I whispered at the end so Steve didn’t hear me. Eddie agreed immediately. “Of course, babe, see you in ten,” He hung up before I could say anything else and I hung the phone back up on the wall. I walked back into the living room to see Steve surprisingly still awake. Eyes open, just staring at the wall. “Eddie is on his way to get me, Steve. Can I help you get anything else?” Why was I still helping him? “I am so cold,” Steve said. “Oh, um-okay. Where do you guys keep your blankets?” I never thought I would actually be inside Steve’s house before and it was all new territory for me. Steve didn’t have to use any words as he pointed to a basket of blankets in the corner of the room. Wow, so I am dumb and blind. I grabbed him a blanket and fluffed it out and put it on top of him. “Thank you,” he looked so… human. Just a sleepy, messy-haired teenage boy sprawled out on the couch in front of me. This wasn’t the Steve Harrington that everyone held on a pedestal. I snapped myself out of my thoughts and sat in the armchair across from the couch that Steve was on so I could wait for Eddie. The blanket must have helped Steve relax, as I watched his eyes flutter shut and shortly after heard him snoring the same way he did in the car only a little while ago. That was my cue to leave Steve’s house and I decided to just wait for Eddie outside. Only a few minutes later Eddie pulled up and I have never gotten into a car faster in my life.

“So, how was your time with Harrington? Amazing, I presume?” I looked at Eddie and rolled my eyes, “Oh yeah, that was the best Halloween of my life, thanks for asking!” Eddie laughed, “But honestly, it could have been worse?” I said while shrugging my shoulders. Eddie looked surprised, “Oh yeah?” “Well you know, besides him calling me Nancy at one point when I was taking care of him, I would say it went pretty…okay.” Eddie wrinkled his nose at what I was saying, “Yikes babe, you think he will remember tonight? Like, at all?” I sighed, “Who knows.”

The car ride was short and was a comfortable silence for both of us. I was exhausted after this crazy fucking night. Eddie dropped me off at my car which was still parked near Tina’s house. I got out of Eddie’s car and thanked him a bunch of times before each of us ended the conversation with a “love ya” and Eddie drove off. Driving home that night didn’t feel real. Everything Steve said to me was replaying over and over. How did we go from “scar face” to “you are so beautiful” in the span of only a few hours?! When I got home, I was finally able to take that disgusting stained white corset off. The last thing I did before getting into bed that night was stare at myself in the mirror and slowly a smile appeared on my face as I laughed to myself, “Yeah, I guess my scar is pretty sick”.

tags; (thank you for supporting) @mochminnie @smellanieeee @pinkangelskies

chapter 1 →

chapter 4 →

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #steve stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #stranger things x you #enemies to lovers

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ptergwen · 3 years

Note

for nwh reqs….how about some good fluffy fluff with pete inspired by those gifs of him in the i survived my trip to nyc shirt & boxers and socks…..yeah 😌😌

w/c: 627

warnings: literally just one swear

a/n: his best look <3 thank you for sending hehe i hope you likeeee and keep them coming y’all i’m in the mood

“seriously? they’re still out there?” you huff, glaring down at the press vans.

you’re watching through the blinds of peter’s bedroom window. you peek between a couple of the blinds, holding them open with your fingers so the reporters can’t see in.

ever since peter’s identity was revealed, the daily bugle has been following his every move. they’ve been camped outside the building since sunrise, and now it’s well after sunset.

“y/n, get away from the window,” peter calls to you from his bed with a chuckle. “you’re driving yourself nuts, baby. besides, it isn’t safe.”

you look at him over your shoulder, your lips curving into a frown.

“it isn’t safe for you, either,” you retort, then turn back towards the window. you scoff at the array of lights and cameras below you. “i can’t believe this shit, peter. this is so unfair,” you shake your head and face peter again.

“you can’t live like this forever, you know,” you speak softer. “yes i can. maybe, i like the attention,” peter raises his brows in a challenge. “you hate attention. you’ll do anything you can to avoid it,” you snicker. peter lets out a laugh of his own, laying back on his pillow. “well, i guess i gotta get used to it now,” he sighs.

peter clasps his hands on top of his stomach, staring out the window. you keep your eyes fixed on him. he’s wearing boxers and a t-shirt that’s oversized on him no matter how buff he gets, which you find oh so endearing.

that’s your boy.

“i thought you and may were looking for somewhere else to stay,” you mention. “uh, yeah. we are,” peter answers, distracted by something going on outside. “good. invitation’s still open if you wanna stay with me,” you remind him. he shifts his attention to you. “my parents wouldn’t mind,” you flash a smile.

“that’s sweet of you, baby. but, we can’t. i don’t wanna risk putting your family in danger,” peter gives you a sad smile back. “don’t worry, though. we’ll figure it out. thanks anyway.”

a group of girls whisper rather loudly amongst themselves outside of peter’s window, trying to catch a glimpse of him.

“they just can’t get enough of you, can they?” you lightheartedly remark. “i don’t blame them,” peter smirks. “me neither. i know the feeling,” you agree.

you finally shut the blinds and go over to peter’s bed. peter clings to your side as soon as you lie down, his arms securely hugging your waist and face buried in the junction between your neck and shoulder. he peppers the spot in kisses before resting his chin on your shoulder, you grinning over at him.

peter gazes up at you with his big brown eyes. your fingers come to comb through the floofy mess that is his hair.

“thanks for being here. i have no idea what i’d do without you,” peter rasps. “it’s not any trouble… right?”

you narrowly avoided a run-in with the press and were heckled by countless spider-man fanatics on your way over earlier. but, he doesn’t need to know that.

“not at all, my love,” you reply, leaving a kiss in his curls. “hey, it’s movie night. why don’t you choose, and i’ll go get snacks,” you suggest. peter beams at you, nodding. “‘mkay. oreos?” he hopefully asks. “and peanut butter. you got it,” you finish for him.

after placing one last peck on peter’s cheek, you head off to grab his usual movie snack.

you make peter’s life feel normal even though it’s anything but that at the moment, and he couldn’t be more grateful for it. it’s so refreshing to cuddle up to you and ignore the madness outside.

everything has changed; everything except you.

#peter parker #peter parker fluff #peter parker x reader #peter parker x y/n #peter parker imagine #peter parker x you #peter parker writing #peter parker fic #peter parker fanfiction #tom holland #tom holland fluff #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n #tom holland imagine #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland fic #tom holland writing

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saturngoldenchild · 2 years

Text

Astrology observations: + some music for u <3

Ur favorite sea goat is back hiiiii 💓💓🫧🫧 some short observations for u and music you should listen to based on ur dominant element. I am going to open my inbox. I want to try it out first and then I’ll make sure to post rules if necessary. That is all, please enjoy this and the meaning of hello kitty <3

- 12th placements and not being believed is so true. These people know the answers, they just can’t prove it. Always trust your intuition babies.

- Bro… so I was looking at air moons n was losing my mind. I collected a bunch of Aquarius moons celebs cause I was like let me see who of my people is famous 🫡 and it was so sad. They all had some sort of very traumatic, difficult past. I also noticed that people wouldn’t think these people have suffered to such extremes due to the image they put on. We have to remember Aquarius is know as caring of the collective, which despite Saturn’s influence, makes it a very hopeful sign. With Uranus they’re looking toward the future with hopes of finding something better.

- one thing I love about earth placements at their best, especially mercury, is how blunt they can be with what they feel. Again, I think this is the placements at their best. But there is a reason why they get called honest, the only thing missing is authenticity with their emotions which again comes with time.

- When it comes to a situation where someone needs to take charge… if there is a water sign, they will try to take the lead but could fail due to a lack of diligence or just not being taken serious. They could be soft spoken or their stance could be a bit inward or unsure. I know this is kind of a stereotype but I do think there is some truth to it in the sense that a lot of the time their emotions can be out for the public to see. So if there is a problem and they are worried or upset it will show. I don’t want to perpetuate this “omg water signs r babies 🥺” thing it’s so corny. How do you guys feel about this???? Obviously this depends on the rest of the chart WE KNOW 🙄.

- Libra moons could have a mother who was highly critical of their looks. Libra moons, especially the men I have encountered are very critical of looks as well. I know three people with this placement who have looked their so in their eyes and told them how ugly their outfit is. 😭😭😭 I don’t mean it to say y’all are bitches, you kind of remind me of how critical Hispanic aunts are.

- Libra in the 8th or Libra Venus could be an attention seeker for their SO or their crush. Libra Venus are very blunt on the fact that they like you if it is a crush. They are the type to flirt with people and not get let down if it’s not immediately reciprocated. Y’all are just charming like 😋 Libra in the 8th is very clingy with their SO in private. Not in a bad way, they’re mischievous and it’s endearing.

- I didn’t understand fire placements being seen as egotistical until I saw it this way. Fire signs are very independent which can sometimes evolve into feeling as though you don’t need anyone for the wrong reasons. The reasons being…thinking nobody knows better than you do 💀 after that I understood all the other points. sometimes it’s okay to sit and take in your environment ur still a bad bitch but it’s still good to listen to those who you trust even if you don’t follow through with their advice.

- the best dancers I have seen usually have Venus ruled or Saturn ruled placements. It could make sense due to Venus ruling over art forms. Saturn placements have amazing stamina which I don’t feel is talked about enough, it ruled over time after all.

Artists you should listen to based on your dominant planet:

- Air signs: Start listening to Arca n you’ll start levitating I’m telling you. A creator on tiktok pointed this out but arca has a Libra stellium and it really shows. I’d say also if you like noise music you will love them. also check them out cause what are u doing with ur life not supporting a Latin artist 🤨 also start listening to flo milli this second cause she’s a genius and that aqua moon really comes through to shine.

- Earth signs: I am begging you to listen to RM I think you will find the comfort ur looking for honestly. As I said one of the lovely things I have found about the bluntness of an earth sign is their ability to be honest about how they feel no matter how bleak it may sound. His music is also just very grounded idk how else to explain it. ON ANOTHER NOTE…listen to double Capricorn poppy’s “i disagree”. I’m telling you you won’t regret it, she’s angry and she’s letting go and she’s letting karma do it’s thing. Rico Nasty lovely double Taurus that also makes music for angry, hot, earth signs. Also listen to Lous and the Yakuza, I love me a Virgo moon and will never deny it.

- Water signs: bjork right now. This woman has a scary ass chart (triple Scorpio) but her music is just as intense and surreal as these signs feel. It’s an experience truly. Also if you haven’t already check out Chloe x Halle they have such a good combo of cancer/Pisces placements that oof. ALSO listen to Moyko cause let me tell you I don’t have that whole chart but if that ain’t the most watery water sign music with a couple earth placements here and there. His music has me bawling but it’s comforting at the same time. And if you thought I wasn’t gonna talk about majority of ateez having water moons SPECIFICALLY CANCER MOONS YOURE wrong n u look dumb now. listen to them and Kali Uchis to feel confident.

- Fire signs: I don’t make the rules YALL need to listen to Rihanna. HER ARIES MOON IS MY WEAKNESS. It’s just passionate but also flirty and I think you’ll have fun cause like it’s Rihanna. listen to doechii right now. My favorite Leo ever, just blunt and confident but also very real and honest with her emotions on her songs. Also, Ann Peebles has a Leo moon and that is very personal to me. They way her songs handle heart break is very much I AM A FIRE MOON so yk.

okay lovely people this is all. I will post more often I promise <3

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realcube · 3 years

Text

ONCE YOU’RE GONE

rq ♥ hello!! can i please request miya twins, sakusa, suna, akaashi x fem!reader an angst one. like they got into a heated argument each other. reader just had enough, maybe take a stroll and got into a deadly accident that cost her life/ memory loss or something. and the hq char regrets it

tw ♥ angst, hurt/comfort, breakups, disappearances, very vague implications of kidnapping, memory loss & injury

a/n ♥ sorry i couldn’t think of anything for suna </3

ATSUMU MIYA

♡ he’s never really been an overly religious guy

♡ yet everyday, he finds himself praying that you’ll come back

♡ and before now, he considered himself a rather patient person, but every second you were gone was filled with anguish

♡ mostly because he knew it was all his fault

♡ nobody blamed it on him though, which only made him feel more guilty

♡ it was late, so he decided to walk you home from his house. hardly with your safety in mind though, just because he wanted to spend more time with you

♡ that was his first mistake

♡ his second was getting so defensive over his volleyball team

♡ he was talking about their recent loss to karasuno high, and how they were all devastated since they had been training for ages

♡ yet instead of comforting him, you simply replied, “maybe you should do things besides volleyball, if you’re getting so worked up about it.”

♡ but all he heard was you being condescending (though that genuinely wasn’t your intention) and telling him to give up something he is passionate about because of one little defeat

♡ you tried to explain that you honestly meant no harm by your statement but atsumu argued that the damage had already been done, hence your apology meant nothing to him

♡ realising that atsumu was just being pissy and taking his frustration at the game out on you, you distanced yourself; walking a few paces in front of him and plugging in your earbuds to tune him out

♡ after marching behind you for a few more yards, atsumu eventually decided that he was finished

♡ in one swift motion, he turned on his heels and stomped back his house, leaving you to walk the rest of the distance yourself; that was his third mistake

♡ however, after walking for about half a mile, he got a newsfeed notification on his phone titled, ‘four people reported missing in hyōgo prefecture, in the last week.’

♡ it only took one headline for all atsumu’s previous emotions to be swept away and replaced with one that left him motionless; guilt

♡ he continued walking back to his home, reasoning that you clearing didn’t want him near you — anyone could tell by the way you walked in front of him and ignored him— so he must’ve made the right choice to leave you, since it’s what you wanted, after all

♡ and it’s not like y’all broke up or anything, he still loves you and hopes you are safe and to prove that, he apologised and texted you first

♡ ‘hey, i’m so sorry i was i bit of a jerk earlier.’

♡ followed by ‘text me once you’re home.’

♡ no response, simply read at 21:45

♡ that was a week ago, yet he still wholehearted believed that you were going to come back

♡ though, deep down he knew he was just feeding himself the same line over and over again, just so that he wouldn’t feel guilty, and so that the sight of a volleyball stopped making him feel so sick and distressed

OSAMU MIYA

♡ he’s never felt such a sea of emotions at once before

♡ on one hand, he was just happy to see you alive and well; isn’t that all a lover should want?

♡ however, he didn’t have the honour of calling himself your lover anymore

♡ you didn’t remember anything from before the crash, which initially brought him a small tinge of relief, since you wouldn’t blame him for what happened

♡ however, you didn’t remember him at all

♡ so when he knelt by your bed and started apologising profusely, all you did which raise a brow and turn to the nurse, quietly — yet not discreetly — asking who the guy by your bed was

♡ he felt his hear tear apart at such a simple inquiry

♡ however, instead of explaining himself, he got up and left, “nobody.”

♡ wanting to get it all off of his chest, he told atsumu about what happened, as if he didn’t know that his brother had the biggest crush on you during your whole relationship with osamu

♡ and of course, upon hearing the news, atsumu ‘snuck out’ later to go visit you in hospital and presumably try to win your heart

♡ though, there was nothing ‘sneaky’ about the way he loudly fumbled around with the car keys, or the way he tended to slam the door behind him — atsumu knew exactly what his brother was trying to do and although it pained him to even think of losing you, he let his brother pursue you anyway

♡ he tried to protect you once and it resulted in you losing your memory, so god knows what would happen if he tried again

♡ plus, you were no longer his to protect, or at least that is what he tried to convince himself

♡ after months of daily visits from atsumu —and none from osamu — you were somewhat starting to gain your memory back

♡ atsumu just seemed so.. familiar, and that was the single best feeling when you are so isolated

♡ though, there was something off about him that you couldn’t exactly put your finger on, but he reassured you that it was because ‘seeing you hurt changed him as a man’ so of course he’s different from the way you ‘remember’ him

♡ years passed, and you continued dating atsumu in blissful ignorance of the events that happened before the accident

♡ you feel deeper in love with the atsumu you thought you knew and were forced away from osamu (who chose to remain single, he claimed it was to focus on his studies but he truly couldn’t find a second soulmate)

♡ it was only at your own wedding day were you finally able to see osamu once more, though you didn’t really interact with him much..

♡ until he objected during your vows, then, it was pretty hard to ignore him, especially since he appeared sober yet was claiming that you are his one true love, and he regrets ever leaving you

♡ needless to say, the rest of the wedding definitely did not go as planned

KIYOOMI SAKUSA

♡ he loved you; and he wished he had showed it more, now that it’s too late

♡ “sakusa,” you cooed, resting your head on his shoulder and offering him a plate of apple slices you cut yourself, while browsing the shows on TV, “what shall we watch tonight?” you inquired, but mostly to yourself since dating sakusa nowadays was similar to dating a literal rock

♡ no response, as per usual

♡ well, on the bright-side, that just meant you’d get to watch whatever you wanted, unless sakusa spoke up, which he most likely would not

♡ scanning through all your options, you decided to select some teen romance, coming-of-age movie that you knew sakusa would most definitely not enjoy, hence forcing him to say thing

♡ however, instead of him reacting in accordance to your plan, he simply got up and left without another word

♡ something about the sight of him with his back turned to you, headed out of your house and back home with even a goodbye cleared your fogged mind and left one fact undoubtedly clear; you didn’t want to be with him anymore

♡ and although you didn’t want to make assumptions, you surmised that he felt the same way; it was almost a certainty considering how distant he acted

♡ so of course you cut it off that same night; yet when you proposed the idea of breaking up, sakusa became surprisingly defensive

♡ it was as if all of a sudden he realised how shitty he had been acting this whole time, and how his actions had effected you

♡ you both yelled over the phone for hours, though it was hardly an ‘argument’, more like sakusa apologising profusely and making — what you believed to be — false promises, while you explained that you had just had enough

♡ it ended with him almost screaming ‘i love you’, but you hung up on him too soon

♡ he would never admit it, but he cried himself to sleep that night

♡ there was a part of him saying that he was just being overdramatic and you were nothing more than another lover that will enter and exit his life with the wind, but four years later, he still found himself getting butterflies upon catching a glimpse of you in the stands at one of games

♡ despite the fact you were cheering for opposite team

KEIJI AKAASHI

♡ you two were the perfect couple

♡ study dates, sliding notes to each other during class, midnight strolls, endless support, dancing in the rain; it was like you were both living in your very own slice-of-life romance movie

♡ however, as they say, all good things must come to an end

♡ but for akaashi, that ending came too quickly

♡ “you can do it, i know you can!” that must’ve been the tenth time you’ve said that today, it was like your own inspirational mantra, yet akaashi didn’t seem to be endeared by it

♡ “no, (y/n).” he repeated with a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose as he began to guide you to the door, “it’s a silly dream. i probably shouldn’t have even mentioned it.”

♡ “it’s not silly!” you argued, throwing on your jacket as he made it increasingly clear that he didn’t want to continue this conversation, “it’s your dream! you can’t just keep complaining about school if you aren’t even going to try to pursue your passion.”

♡ akaashi silently shook his head, “go.” it was harsh, but he could only deal with speaking about his work life for so long

♡ “you go.” you snapped, though knowing it wasn’t exactly the comeback of the century, but it summarised your feelings well enough, “i’ve honestly had enough of you. i hope--”

♡ you cut yourself off at that; storming off before saying something you might regret

♡ though furious, you really didn’t want things to end with him, you just hoped that maybe one day you’ll be able to have a civil conversation with him about what he wants to do in life

♡ because he hides it well, but the more you got to know him, the more you noticed that he truly wasn’t happy in his studies, and you just wished he would do something about it or at the very least, let you help

♡ and he knew this too; he knew it all too well yet still couldn’t bring himself to better his life, even once you were gone

♡ you were critically injured after the accident, and during your time in the hospital, you let akaashi see you once

♡ one visit was his chance to redeem himself, to apologise and help you both align your futures together

♡ but all he could do was sit with you in radio silence

♡ thirty minutes passed and his mind was running on overdrive, yet he couldn’t think of anything to utter after ‘hello.’

♡ so he left

♡ no apology, no redemption, to attempt, nothing.

♡ all he could say was that he left with a heavy heart, a heart filled with hope that one day he could return to you despite all the wrong he has done; though that seemed more unrealistic than his dream of playing profession volleyball

♡ he had truly lost his soulmate

186 notes · View notes

heyitssmiller · 3 years

Text

Bewitched, Body and Soul

So... this happened. Blame the Discord. Basically, the premise is receiving a note from a stranger about having similar tastes in books, and my first thought was Finn/Leo. And now, around 24 hours later, this showed up in my word document. Hope y’all like it!! And don’t worry, I’ve already got a sequel planned with Logan ;)

All characters, of course, belong to the wonderful @lumosinlove

And, if you’re so inclined, check out my Masterlist if you enjoy this story! <3

CW: food/drink

Leo loved this bookstore. There was a west-facing windowfront that allowed all sorts of afternoon light to shine through, creating a large, warm sunspot right in Leo’s favorite armchair. The shelves were always neatly organized by category, there was a featured book of the week, and there was a coffee shop sequestered to one corner of the building. What else did he need in life? He’d spent countless hours here, sitting with a new book and a cup of coffee or tea and getting lost in whatever world he’d been transported to within the crisp pages and black ink. Being new to the city, there were probably better ways to make friends, but there was something so soothing, so comfortingly familiar about shutting off the worry in his mind and just focusing on the story unfolding in his hands.

But when his stomach growled loudly in protest, he figured he needed to put reading on hold.

There was a wrinkled, jagged-edged scrap of paper sitting on top of Leo’s book when he returned to his table, café pastry in hand. It hadn’t been there a second ago. Curiously, Leo set his food down and inspected the foreign paper. Messy, inelegant scrawl slanted across the page in deep blue ink. The lines were uneven and chaotic; the i’s weren’t even dotted, almost as if it took too much effort to go back and add them in. Leo found it strangely endearing. It read:

Hi!

I don’t think we’ve met, but based on your choice of literature I think we would make great friends. :)

- Carrot Top

Leo smiled, read it again, and looked around for the person who sent it but no one acknowledged him, seemingly lost in stories of their own. So he sat there, a smile still on his face as he got back to his book, using the note as a bookmark.

~~~

Finn couldn’t help himself when, a few days later, he left another note after seeing the guy with good taste in books again at the bookstore. He was at what must have been his usual table, seemingly right where Finn had left him. The only difference besides the clothes he was wearing was the book he was reading. Finn let himself linger on his profile, just for a second – the gentle slope of his nose, the way his curls rested against his forehead, how bright blue eyes scanned the pages below him.

Finn wasn’t one for love at first sight; that was for romance novels only. But instant attraction? Oh yeah. He was definitely there.

He picked up a small flyer from the front desk, flipped it over, and began to write.

And maybe it wasn’t a good way of, as the kids said these days, “shooting his shot”. But it was a start. And it was fun – the thrill of trying not to get caught, the anonymity. Sure, one day he’d maybe get up the courage to talk to him in person, but he was happy with this for now.

Hmm… haven’t read that one. Might have to get myself a copy!

- The Walking Freckle

After dropping the note off while the blond walked off to take a phone call, Finn tried to act casual as he stared sightlessly down at his own book instead of over at the cute stranger like he desperately wanted to.

Don’t be suspicious, don’t be suspicious…

If he was being completely honest, he didn’t really know where to go from here. Did the blond think the notes were creepy? Or weird? He never seemed to mind much, but… well, a stranger was repeatedly leaving notes for him. What if it was making him uncomfortable? Would it make things better or worse if Finn introduced himself?

A snort came out, unbidden. Yeah. Right. That would go well. Finn could practically see it now: he would be clumsy and awkward, probably spilling coffee all over the guy’s book or – even worse – all over him. He’d scare him off for sure.

But at the same time, Finn wanted nothing more than to meet him. To sit down across the table from him and debate the points of the book he was reading, or give book recommendations, or just talk. About literally anything. Finn wasn’t a picky guy. He could sit there and let him speak for hours, absorbing any and all knowledge about him like a sponge. Did the corners of those bright, blue eyes crinkle at the corners when he smiled? Did his cheeks get all flushed when he was passionate about something, just like Finn’s? What was the story behind the soft-looking tuft of gray hair at his temple?

Who was he?

Finn was overflowing with questions, and desperate for the answers.

But he needed to go about this the right way, didn’t he? The last thing he wanted to do was screw this up. So he closed his book, propped his chin in his hand so that he could stare out the window, and started to plan.

~~~

The next note threw Leo for a bit of a loop. He’d saved his table with his coat thrown over one of the chairs and went up to the New Books section, surreptitiously keeping an eye on his table and hoping that he’d catch his note-sender red-handed.

Leo could’ve sworn that he’d looked away for half a second, but – well, he got distracted by a book, so it easily could’ve been five minutes for all he knew. This note was written on one of the café napkins, the ink bleeding through in some spots and a few small tears in the delicate material.

Nice choice! That book absolutely shattered my heart and then pieced it back together. The way she writes love lost just hurts so beautifully, doesn’t it?

I like your sweater by the way.

Fuck I hope that’s not creepy.

I’m not a stalker, I promise. I just think you’re really cute. And you have amazing taste in books. I’d like to learn more, if you’d let me. :)

But first, you have to figure out who I am! Good luck!

- Your Not-So-Secret Admirer in the Tortoiseshell Glasses

He smiled, wide and happy, and looked around for tortoiseshell glasses, red hair, and freckles. Those were the only three clues he had so far. So he quickly scanned the crowded café, looking for anyone who fit the description. The only one even close was a freckled, redheaded guy at the corner table, but no glasses.

That was a shame, too. He was stunning.

The mystery bibliophile must already be gone, then. Or hiding.

Looked like Leo had his work cut out for him. He did always like a challenge.

~~~

It probably wasn’t Finn’s best idea to take his glasses off. He couldn’t see a damn thing and was left squinting down at his book, trying to determine if what he was seeing was an F or a P.

That smile, though… he could’ve seen that dimpled smile from all the way across the street.

He never thought he’d be pining for a stranger like this, but then again – he wasn’t a complete stranger, was he? After all, you could learn a lot about a person by their book preferences. Finn wasn’t normally known for being a good judge of character – he was too optimistic, too unwilling to see the bad in people. But damn, did he hope he was right about this one.

~~~

Finn had probably been too bold with the note he’d just dropped off, but when he’d seen what book that his new maybe-friend was reading, he knew he couldn’t just pass up an opportunity like that.

He didn’t wait to see the reaction this time – he wasn’t sure he wanted to. He just left the short note on top of the book while the blond was at the café counter and booked it (pun definitely intended) out of there as fast as he could.

You have bewitched me, body and soul. <3

- Bambi

~~~

He should’ve waited. Leo’s reaction, all bashful smile and bright red face and pleased expression, would’ve been worth it.

~~~

Leo went back to the bookstore pretty much every day after that, intent on finding this person. Not only was this a fun little game they were playing, but it would be nice to finally have a friend in the city. He still didn’t know anyone besides his coworkers and… well, he was a little lonely. A friend would be nice, especially one who had a shared interest in books.

The only thing left to do was to find them.

Red hair, freckles, glasses, and big doe eyes.

Leo looked for the only four defining traits he had, methodically starting in the front of the store and weaving through isle after isle of bookshelves. When that proved unsuccessful he moved on to the café, gaze landing on the queue first before lurching to a stop at the glimpse of a shock of auburn hair in the far corner booth. Heart hammering in his chest, Leo used his height to his full advantage and peered over the line of people.

Freckles, Glasses, Big, doe eyes.

If he needed any more confirmation, the stranger – the very cute stranger – was reading the same book Leo had been reading a week ago. The one his anonymous friend said they hadn’t read yet.

It had to be him.

Leo didn’t let himself think about it too much – he knew he’d panic if he did. He just strode over and sat down across from him, setting his book down on the table with a quiet thud. The note-writer jumped a little, then lifted wide brown eyes to look up at him.

Oh, but he was gorgeous.

“So what part are you at?” Leo asked, eyes taking in everything they could now that he was close enough – that messy red hair that just barely curled at the ends, the hint of scruff on his jaw, brown eyes shifting from shade to shade in the afternoon light filtering through the window beside him. Soft, mesmerizing lips curved into the beginnings of a smile that Leo couldn’t help but be transfixed by. “Have you gotten to the part where Patroclus dies?”

Finn stared back, trying to look horrified but he knew he was smiling so much that they counteracted each other because, finally, he’d figured it out. “I can’t believe you’d break rule number one of having a reading buddy: don’t spoil the ending.”

Dimples.

“Oops.”

Finn was done for.

“I’m Finn,” he managed to stammer, aiming for his best smile and probably looking like he’d just tasted something awful instead.

“Leo,” his companion said with a warm smile. Then he frowned. “Wait, no. Go back. You can’t spoil the ending of a story that’s literally thousands of years old.” The blond leaned back in his chair, sipping his coffee and watching in amusement as Finn gaped at him in horror. He could feel his cheeks and ears getting red, his mouth opening and closing like a fish.

“That’s so not the point!”

Leo laughed, then motioned for Finn to state his case. And then Finn was off, forgetting all about his nervousness and tendency to be awkward. He ranted about that topic for… well, he didn’t really know how long, but it was a while. Leo didn’t even bat an eye, keeping pace well and interjecting with his own points calmly and collectedly – the gentle breeze to Finn’s tornado. He was smiling, too, even though sometimes he tried to hide it behind the rim of his coffee cup. And he was smart, Finn learned as they jumped from one topic to the next and the minutes ticked by. He knew a lot about literature, like Finn, but he could also make these random connections to all kinds of different topics that Finn would’ve never thought of, all while keeping up with Finn’s fast-paced brain and tendency to jump down rabbit holes.

It was an instant connection, the likes of which Finn had never experienced before. It was intoxicating. Finn felt like he could never get enough.

During a lull in between one conversation and the next, Leo pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket and handed it over, looking suddenly and inexplicably shy. Finn cocked his head confusedly, then unfolded the paper and looked down.

Would you like to go on a date sometime?

PS: I’m free tonight if you are. :)

- The Guy Who’s Been Crushing on You for Weeks

Finn’s heart threatened to burst. “Absolutely.” He hesitated, just for a second, then decided to go for it. “Are you free now? I know a pretty great café nearby.” With a wiggle of his eyebrows, he jerked his thumb at the bookstore café and earned a laugh. He wondered what he could do to earn another.

“Sounds perfect.”

They walked over to the counter together, the backs of their hands just barely brushing – it was still enough to make Finn hyperaware of every miniscule movement and get his pulse hammering. Leo was teasing Finn for his terrible eyesight in a soft, southern drawl – something Finn definitely wasn’t expecting but sure as hell wasn’t complaining about, his fingers deliberately playing with Finn’s now, and Finn knew it was going to be a good night. It was already a good night; how could it possibly get any better?

“What can I get for you?”

Leo and Finn looked up at the barista and their eyes widened in tandem as they took in thick chestnut waves, long, dark lashes, and bottle-green eyes. He wasn’t smiling, not necessarily. His expression was fairly neutral, all things considered – except for those eyes. If you stared at then long enough, you could see just the faintest whisper of amusement.

They both looked down slightly, searching for a nametag. There, in bold black letters, read:

Logan.

#lumosinlove #sweater weather #coast to coast #o'knutzy #finn o'hara #leo knut #bookstore/coffee shop au #bewitched body and soul #cw: food #cw: drink

157 notes · View notes

gyuluster · 4 years

Text

txt as boyfriends

requested : yes, thank you @engenemoa-forever!

words : 1.23k words

genre : fluff, just a lil suggestive but hella hella fluff, bitsa crack too

a/n : hi good evening thank you and sorry for writing this so late ))): i hope you and all u sexc mfs enjoy <3 special mention to @soobmint for helping out with this!! her ideas are too cute not to include <3

SOOBIN

this man would never stop thanking his luck stars that he’s dating you

a total lovebug - he is at his best when he’s in a relationship, so he just can’t stop smiling or simply be happy in your presence

is extremely shy so when you show him affection he has to hide himself so you can’t see him blushing like a churchboy

on the other hand, would always want to show you the love he’s too embarrassed to accept - would never be too proud or too shy to tell you how beautiful you look every morning or whispering sweet nothings to you in the night to help you sleep

would randomly cook meals in the night to show his commitment to you - even though he works extremely hard he would immediately take over the housework if he sees you tired

the PERFECT listener - you could rant about anything and everything for HOURS and he would not even fidget, listening intently to your problems

also gives insane advice so you always turn to him - basically your free therapist

endearments galore - “my love” is his utmost favourite

dates always include romatic-lit dinners somewhere intimate, and always end with the two of you, hand-in-hand, looking at the stars in your home

in short, this man is wholly dependent on you - you become the beacon of his life, and are every way his missing puzzle piece

YEONJUN

you both are fucking WILD

honestly no one even doubts the two of you are going out it’s literally so OBVIOUS

this goon is the most flirtatious little fucker known to man

WILL make you sososososososo flustered all the time

he is so bloody shameless - like he would happily argue with another over how his girlfriend is the prettiest, and not someone else’s

a lot of contact !!! so much contact on god!!!

HAS to have his arm around you all the time, perhaps the sneaky hand lingering on you all the time

ADORES to kiss you - honestly could kiss you all day, whether it be on your forehead, nose, lips, other places

would show you the whole world - spontaneous trips to either the streets of Paris or the mountains of South America, he’s ready to take you anywhere

y’all might not agree with me on this, but i don’t think he’d be jealous at all concerning you - in fact, he’s so confident in his abilities as a great-as-fuck boyfriend that he doesn’t mind you having boys as super close friends - he knows you’ll be in his arms by the end of the night

you are his only “darling” - his muse, and the love of his life

BEOMGYU

beomgyu as a boyfriend would be the best thing of your life yet the bane of your existence at the exact same time

constantly playfighting

like you both are at each other’s NECKS at ever waking moment - whether that be over you purposefully taking the last chip to you threatening to burn his neighbourhood down

teasing!!! the teasing never stops!!! this man will have you blushing all the time - he loves seeing you flustered so he can make fun of you which then only gets you pissed

his head is ALWAYS on your shoulder - sometimes he just falls asleep when he’s a little tired and despite you tempted to toss his head off and into the wall, you let him rest upon you

the two of you don’t have particularly loving endearments - i mean, if y’all think “prick”, “dickhead” or “cumshot” is affectionate

a massive brat - either his way or the highway homie you’re gonna have to submit to his movie choices

KING of pouts — one of those bad boys being whipped out and that’s it you’re the victim of emotional manipulation

jealous !!!! this mans gets soooooo annoyed when other guys are bantering around with you — always results in you poking fun which then leads to him sulking in the corner

super late messages at night where he sends voice notes of him singing or playing the guitar which help you fall asleep

basically he’s a massive pain in the ass but it’s a pain you don’t really wanna get rid of

TAEHYUN

okay so this man is quite different from the others because he’s not instantly comfortable

it takes him time to truly mould into the idea of a relationship, but when he does it’s literally seventh heaven

the realest — he is the one who tells you the hard truths or any upsetting news he has — even so, you only want to hear it from him because he would never sugarcoat anything from anyone, least of all you

deeply emotional — his greatest wish is to see you happy and will go to great lengths to fulfil it whether it’s just going out to get your favourite snack or helping you through a more serious problem

HATES !!!! absolutely DETESTS to see you upset — if it’s anyone specific that’s it they’re getting their shit ROCKED

super observant !! this man picks up on how you’re feeling, whether you need help or simply want to be in his presence — either way, he senses and comforts you in the best way

LOVESSSS to sing to you — for him it’s one of the most intimate acts he can offer, so at any time when you both are alone, he will play with your hair as he sings a soft melody to you

is actually kinda clingy — once he’s most himself with you he always wants to hold your hand or at least be closer to you, even in certain public areas — it makes you MELT because it means he fully accepts and sees you as his own

basically, you could not live without this man — he is the epitome of collected, trustworthy and deeply affectionate goodness

HUENINGKAI

oh my goodness

hyuka would literally never stop screaming about you

some goon could be talking about the presidential elections and hyuka will still manage to slide you into the conversation — eventually someone will tell him to shut the fuck up (he won’t listen though)

HUGS GALORE !!! this man would never stop he NEEDS to have his arms around you or how will he survive ??!?!

is never too shy or proud to declare his undying love for you — one time he shouted it a little too loud and it resulted in him getting a warning from the neighbours

no barriers !!! this man would tell you EVERYTHING about his life it does not remotely matter how insignificant it is he will report it to you

spontaneous as fuck !! wanna go midnight shopping for instant noodles in your pjs?? travel to another city on a whim of a decision? hyuka’s the one you seek

super emotional — not like taehyuns, where it is more suppressed — his is an all out spectacle — if you guys have a fight, he WILL cry his eyes out

sleepovers ALWAYS have to include the both of you making pillow forts in your bedrooms while watching some fantasy adventure — you both end up sleeping in your creation

although you will grow up, hyuka is the man you can still be a child with and enjoy yourself

469 notes · View notes

thatslikely · 4 years

Text

A Slow Dance - G.W.

A Slow Dance- George Weasley x Fem!Reader (unspecified house)

Warnings: none! pure fluff <3

Word Count: 1.3k

A/N: y’all I’m serious. where’s my George. I need someone like this asap, don’t be shy universe. hope you guys enjoy as always :)

Just a Reminder: song lyrics/thoughts are in italics [I imagined is Put Your Head on My Shoulder by Paul Anka, but any song works]

Taglist: @horrorxweasley @hufflepuff5972 @amourtentiaa

if you want to be added, send me a dm or an ask!

Requested by the lovely @amourtentiaa [my first request I’ve gotten, and I love it!]

----

“Ugh. Why do you have to sit hunched over your desk studying all the time? Have at least a little fun! It’s our last year at Hogwarts!” A sprawled out George exclaimed from your ruffled four-poster bed with a groan. His handsome face hung off the edge of the bed frame, his upside-down gaze fixed on your distracted figure.

George was always quite needy; it was practically a law of nature. Whether it was running around pulling a record-breaking marathon of pranks, or just tenderly holding his large, soft hand while discussing your favorite novel, he lapped up every ounce of you he could.

“Georgie, if I don’t do well on my N.E.W.T.s, how do you expect me to get a decent job?” you asked with a bit more bite than you intended. The complex, academic sentences scribbled onto the parchment before you droned through your brain like headache-inducing white noise, which soured your attitude more than you liked to admit.

It made your heart flutter knowing that George yearned for your care so much, but you had your whole life to spend with the vexatious redhead. You only had the next week to pass your N.E.W.T.s.

“You’ll always have a job down with me at the shop, c’mon! Imagine: my two favorite things wrapped up into one!” he said, before adding more softly, “plus, you’d look so cute in the uniform.” You couldn’t help your cheeks from heating up at his affectionate comment, which wasn’t intended to grace your ears.

“I wish it was simple as that, Georgie. While I’d love to work with you at the shop, you know that’s not what I really want to do. You always tell me to shoot for the moon, and this is just part of the process.” You were unrelenting with your studying, which George of course admired, but he was equally relentless in his pursuit of spending time with you, even if it was just for a second.

The dorm fell suspiciously quiet, which allowed your mind to delve even deeper into your studies. The strokes of your quill grew deeper and sharper into the parchment with focus, the ink-blotted tip eventually tearing a small rip mid-sentence.

A breath that you unknowingly held escaped your lips in the form of an exasperated sigh. You rubbed your temples before picking up the quill and starting again.

You mindlessly scribed cursive onto the dense paper for several minutes before snapping out of your trance at the jarring noise of a chair’s legs scraping across the hardwood floors. George took the vacant seat next to you, resting his elbow on the surface of the desk.

His handsome face rested comfortably in his palm, his whole body turned towards you. You could’ve sworn his mischievous but lovable gaze flickered to your soft lips every few seconds like a magnet drawn to its opposite pole.

Stop thinking about George, and his delicious lips, alluring cocoa-colored eyes, fluffy red hair… think about Transfiguration!

Your quill-wielding wrist moved in more furious motions, your determination to stay devoted to your academics made your eyes drift to the smug titian-haired boy next to you more than ever. You eventually succumbed to your heart’s desires, giving George a small glance.

The expression George donned shattered your expectations; you expected his eyes to be droopy and half-asleep, jaw-slacked in boredom, evidenced by his disdain of all things school-related.

Instead, however, his red tongue stuck out to his chin, his index fingers pulling apart his freckled cheeks. His mocha eyes were humorously crossed, fixed on his adorable aquiline nose. He looked utterly ridiculous.

“What’re you doing, Georgie? You look absurd!” you questioned with a hefty chuckle. His eyes lit up with triumph at the laugh fleeing your lips.

“I’m getting your eyes off that stupid piece of parchment! You’ve been writing nonsense on it for the past quarter of an hour. You need a break.”

“Just let me study a bit more, then I promise I’ll spend some time with you, okay?” you bargained, hoping for compliance. You pivoted your head back to the strewn papers resting on the mahogany desk in front of you, ready to get back into a productive rhythm.

The welcome rhythm never stayed for long though, for it was always disrupted by George making another goofy face. He’s just being a child, you thought, you’re a seventh year. Ridiculous faces aren’t funny. Oh how wrong you were.

With every new expression that graced his features, another laugh threatened to escape your mouth. Soon enough, your eyes were steadily fixed on the frivolous ginger, ready for what face he would come up with next.

Your brain was locked in a battle: George and his loveable humor, versus your Transfiguration notes and passing your N.E.W.T.s. Both were hardy competitors, but in the end, McGonagall’s subject prevailed. George got up from the seat next to you with a huff, blowing a stray red strand of hair up from his forehead.

He paced around the large room, scheming a way to get your undivided attention. He peeked around the wooden shelves and dressers that stayed pressed against the walls of the dorms, looking for something, anything.

His eyes eventually settled on the record player on your nightstand by your bed. It was a muggle device that his father had ranted about many times before, and he guessed that he could probably figure out how to work it.

His calloused fingers plucked the top inky-black vinyl record from the stack, feeling the textured grooves engraved in its surface. He set the record in place, dropping the needle not long after. The previously pin-drop silent room quickly came to life with the enrapturing sounds of harmonious chords.

It appeared that even the universe wanted to free you from the shackles of your boring notes, for the vinyl George happened to choose was your favorite song, and a slow, romantic one at that.

George lightly tapped your back, causing you to swivel around towards him. He had his long, toned arm outstretched to you charmingly, beckoning you for a dance. You gingerly placed your palm into his and he swiftly pulled you out of the chair and into the middle of the floor.

His face was handsome as ever; you only just now realized how much you missed all of him. His gentle touch, his honey-pooled eyes, the pure love pumping through his veins. His hands rapturously rested on your waist, yours’ wrapped around the nape of his neck. You twirled a small section of his red hair in between your fingers, which only made the lovestruck grin on his face grow bigger.

The song continued to echo through the cozy walls of the room, the unified swaying of your hips in sync with the song’s slow beat. You nearly melted in his warm embrace, his arms gradually bringing you closer and closer to his beating chest.

You eventually rested your head on George’s shoulder, feeling the soothing vibrations of his vocal chords humming along with the notes of the song.

Put your lips next to mine dear, won’t you kiss me once, baby?

As if the song had you two lovebirds under a spell, George slowly brought his lips to yours, giving you a slow and passionate kiss.

He’d kissed you so many times before, but this time it felt different, in the best way possible. It was as if angels sang when your lips graced his’; you could taste his feelings through the connection, his devotion and longing for you overriding your senses. Your eyes teared up at the wave of endearing emotions that overcame you.

The sensual dancing continued long through the night, the tender and enchanting kisses and slow sways wiping your mind of the stressful upcoming exams.

“Feel better, darling?” George breathily mumbled into your ear, the warmth from his mouth shooting directly to your heart, coating your body with goosebumps.

All your hazy, smitten mind could respond with was a simple but passionate, “I love you.”

“I love you too, darling.”

191 notes · View notes

zedwards · 4 years

Text

MOVIE DATES WITH STRAY KIDS

stray kids x reader

genre: fluff

word count: 1.8k

warnings: intended for male reader, but can be read as gender neutral; my first fic 👉👈 im nervous; lowercase aesthetic; does “bastard” count as a swear word..?

i hope you enjoy this little gift :)

bang chan

he likes romantic comedies

tbh being chan’s s/o would feel like a romcom of its own

since he doesn’t like crowds, your movie dates together usually wouldn’t involve actually going to the movies

instead you’d probably both opt to stay in for the night and watch a movie on the couch

under multiple blankets

in each other’s arms

hugs and cuddles

with the occasional kiss on the top of your head

it’s so soft

it’s chan :)))

he does the little claps at the end of the movie

because happy endings ^–^

y’know those awkward scenes where the main couple meets for the first time?

he likes to point out which character you were most similar to when the two of you first met

“i didn’t know you were in this movie!”

“you look so different! i could hardly recognize you!”

he’s such a dork

all your movie nights would end in one of three ways:

1.) you falling asleep in his arms

2.) him falling asleep holding you close (yeah not really, this man doesn’t sleep that much T_T)

or 3.) you both make it through the movie, and one of you says something like

“this is nice...i wish we could just stay like this”

and so you both (in theory) fall asleep right where you are

either way, chan is the best boyfriend and neither of you know what you did to deserve each other

lee know

he’d get you to go see a horror movie

even if you protest, he’d manage to convince you somehow

pokes fun at you every time you get scared

during a suspenseful part in the movie, he’d suddenly put his hands on your shoulders and shake you (lightly) out of nowhere, just to startle you

and he’d have to stifle his giggles because your reaction is just too priceless

absolutely relishes in how you never let go of his arm

like ever

seriously, his arm might as well be an extension of your body at this point

he may act like he’s annoyed

but he loves it

cuz he knows it’s because you feel safe with him

and if you hide your face in the crook of his neck

he’d get this look on his face...

something between an evil smirk and an amused grin

why? because his plan is working

plot twist: the whole reason he chose to see a horror movie with you was so that you would cling to him

surprise!! >:]

but even if you catch on, he’ll never admit it

tsundere

“did you even see any of the movie?”

you just kinda grumble in response, still latched onto his arm

“i can’t believe it... i so generously paid for your ticket, only for you to hide your face the whole ti- OW!”

you jab him in the side with your elbow give him a “love tap” :)

but it’ll take more than that to get him to stop teasing you about it

he’s a cocky bastard but you love him to death for it

seo changbin

superhero movie!!!

like something from the mcu

seeing him get so excited/invested in the movie??

wholesome

but he might get a little too excited

in other words, going to the movies with changbin is an...interactive experience

meaning that he talks at the movie

not to the movie, but at the movie

like...he talks at the characters on screen

as if they can hear him

honestly it’s kinda cute

but occasionally you have to remind him to keep his voice down

“HE TRIED TO TELL YOU NOT TO TOUCH THE STONE”

“shhhh alright calm down a bit-”

“...AND NOW YOU DEAD”

“changbin i love you but please don’t get us kicked out of the theater”

10/10 would have his arm around you throughout the movie

even if his arm goes numb, he’d refuse to let anything stop him

“changbin, you don’t have t-”

“CUDDLES.”

lowkey feels like a pillow

bc he beefy

on very rare occasions he might fall asleep during the movie

if he does end up dozing off and you catch him in the act, he’d deny it profusely

he likes to spontaneously slip his hand into yours :)

and lace your fingers together :))

you’re holding hands now :)))

his presence is just so warm and fuzzy and you make each other so happy

hwang hyunjin

THIS MAN

the funnest(?) most fun bf in existence

he’s definitely the type to try and smuggle outside food into the theater

he insists that he’s inconspicuous about it

and he tries to be

but he’s not :)

“uh... hyunjin, why are you wearing two hoodies?”

“i uh... i’m... cold?”

“so you’re sticking bags of microwaveable popcorn in between your sweatshirts...to keep warm?”

*visibly sweating* “i can explain...”

ok ok

so y’all seeing a comedy

why?

because HIS LAUGH OMG

it’s so bubbly and contagious

so naturally, you’d both be laughing up a storm at the back of the theater

and sometimes it’s because of the movie

but most of the time it’s because of the side comments the two of you keep making to each other

and it doesn’t help that he keeps making these ridiculous observations about the characters in the movie

“what’s up with that guy?”

“what about him?”

“why is he built like a refrigerator?”

about halfway through the movie, you both reach that delirious state where literally anything and everything becomes funny

even if it’s not supposed to be funny

...especially if it’s not supposed to be funny

the two of you? lowkey hyenas

long story short, you’re both asked to leave the theater not even two hours into the film :)

han jisung

action!! movie!!

finishes the popcorn within the first ten minutes of the film

that is, if he doesn’t scarf it all down during the previews

he talks through the entIRE THING

he’s always got something to say

it’s like watching the director’s commentary version of a movie

but instead of the director talking about the film-making process

it’s jisung muttering nonsense in your ear

sometimes pertaining to the movie

and other times...

“hey did i ever tell you about the time i saw a seagull eating garbage?”

...yeah, other times it’s...not

either way, you don’t mind

because you aren’t really paying much attention to the movie anyways

you’re too busy admiring your boyfriend

how could you not?

the way he’s on the edge of his seat, giving the movie his full attention...

the light from the screen flickering dimly on his face, highlighting his gentle features...

you’re the luckiest person in the world, no doubt

his eyes light up whenever something particularly cool/badass happens in the movie

but he also gets startled by the explosions every now and then

when that happens, you just look at each other for a moment

and then burst into a fit of giggles

“stoooppp!! it was loud, ok??”

you just hum in response and rest your head on his shoulder

y’know that thing he does where like...

he’s giggling, but he has something he wants to say, so he keeps trying to talk?

but his words keep getting cut off by his own laughter?

yeah... that’s what he’s doing

he’s adorable

lee felix

animated movie

a firm believer that you’re never too old to enjoy cartoons

he never lost that child-like energy/enthusiasm, which is part of what makes him such a gem

so of course, when the new disney movie came out, he knew he had to go see it with you

he would definitely load up on snacks from concessions

if you don’t stop him, he’s gonna be buying two giant things of popcorn and at least five different kinds of candy

and when he walks back to you after paying, he’d just smile brightly from behind the mountain of junk food in his hands like

“snacks :D!!!!!”

seriously though, try to keep track of how much popcorn he eats

bc he might overeat and get a stomachache :((

obviously he can take care of him self, cuz he’s an adult

but like

he loves when you look out for him

because he knows just how much you care about him

sunshine boy :((

y’all already know how much of a cuddle bug this man is

so of course that means lots of cute, affectionate gestures during the movie

skinship

holding hands

you resting your head on his shoulder

and him resting his head on top of your head

and most importantly SNUGGLES

snuggles are a must

for him, movie dates are just an excuse to be extra touchy with you

even though he never needs an excuse to get cuddles whenever he wants

because c’mon

it’s felix

what are you gonna do, say no?

kim seungmin

murder mystery film

tends not to talk all that much during movies

he’d just be so completely engrossed in the movie that he’d forget about his surroundings

but that’s not to say he won’t hold your hand or drape his arm over your shoulders

every now and then you can catch him leaning forward in his seat

with his mouth slightly ajar

it’s so endearing

but if for whatever reason you want to get his attention...

heh...

yeah, good luck with that

you’d have to maybe give his hand a lil squeeze to get his attention

and at first he’d just turn his head in your direction, keeping his eyes glued to the movie

but if you gave his hand another squeeze, he’d snap out of it

“psst...seungmin”

“mm.”

“hey, seungmin?”

“huh? yeah?”

“i love you”

if that doesn’t make his heart SWELL—

his dazed expression would quickly shift into one of pure elation and fondness

he might not respond verbally

but he’d gently bring your hand up to his lips

press a soft kiss atop your knuckles

and then lower your hand again without letting go, turning his attention back to the movie

but that bright smile of his would never falter for even a moment

he loves you too

so so much :)

yang jeongin

another one for romantic comedies

he likes it when there’s a little less “rom” and slightly more “com”

and so do you

because it means you get to hear his laugh more

oh god...

his laugh

the little giggles in between the short gasps for air...

so cute

“no. i’m not cute.”

he is very cute

probably won’t initiate any skinship

but if you do, he will absolutely go along with it

sometimes he’ll nod off in the middle of a movie

and then wake up during the credits, completely disoriented

“where am i”

“you fell asleep”

“huh??”

“you drooled a little on my shoulder, you goof”

unlike hyunjin, he’s really good at sneaking food into the theaters

like really really good

almost to the point that it’s scary

usually people try to sneak in popcorn or candy or maybe soda

well not jeongin

“hey, you want some?”

“what the- HOW DID YOU GET A BUCKET OF FRIED CHICKEN IN HERE”

“:]”

he’s not telling

like or reblog if you enjoyed ^^ feedback is always welcome and very much appreciated!

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kaylorrehabcenter · 4 years

Text

Rating Every Song on Fearless Based on How Gay it is

Hello friends! I still have a few song analyses in the pipeline (and one on Lover the album) but today in honor of Fearless (Taylor’s Edition) being announced and Love Story being released in a few hours I thought I’d do something fun to celebrate!

And you know what? Fuck my usual disclaimer, I am the word of god here. Try and change my mind about any of these. I dare you. (I kid I kid this isn’t that serious and you’re free to disagree <3)

1. Fearless 15/10

Everything about this song is so fucking gay oh my god. This isn’t a fruit, this is a whole ass edible arrangement. As a small rural town Gay (my hometown has a population of less that 4,000 and where I’m living now has a population of 2,500) this uh. Hits.

“And I don't know how it gets better than this/You take my hand and drag me head first, fearless”

Y’ALL

The idea of falling in love with someone who makes you less afraid of your homophobic small town…….it’s getting to me.

“My hands shake, I'm not usually this way but/You pull me in and I'm a little more brave/It's the first kiss, it's flawless, really something/It's fearless”

This is making me emotional, I'll be honest. I see so much of my friends and my experience in high school in this song.

This quote I found on genius is from when the album was released on BMR’s website.

“When I wrote ‘Fearless,’ I wasn’t dating anyone. I wasn’t even in the beginning stages of dating anybody. I really was all by myself out on tour and I got this idea for a song about the best first date. I think sometimes when you’re writing love songs, you don’t write them about what you’re going through at the moment, you write about what you wish you had. So, this song is about the best first date I haven’t had yet.”

This just screams baby Tay writing gay folklore to me, about the gay stories she wish she had. Notice how there are no pronouns in this song??? Fruity I’m telling you.

All that to say. I’m crying because the linear note says “I loved you before I met you” and I want to go listen to Long Story Short and cry now.

2. Fifteen 1/10

Objectively pretty straight as she’s singing about her and Abigail’s dating boys in HS. And Taylor got with a senior guy. Good for her I suppose.

Unless he was one of the shitty ones in which case.

“This is life before you know who you're gonna be”

This however, is a cute line and the whole song makes me warm and nostalgic. You can also hear her crying after the line “and Abigail gave everything she had to a boy who changed his mind” which makes me emo and I’m sure will take on new depth after Abigail’s divorce and hurt me even more.

Other highlights that make me sob include.

“When all you wanted was to be wanted/Wish you could go back and tell yourself what you know now/Back then I swore I was gonna marry him someday/But I realized some bigger dreams of mine”

Bigger dreams of hers indeed :’)

(Also how can you say she’s a gold star lesbian when this song exists. She was obviously dating boys in high school and even if you think she’s a lesbian. Comp het is a hell of a drug kids.)

3. Love Story 8/10

Tried to change the ending indeed.

This is THE Taylor Swift song, and maybe it’s the nostalgia talking but damn I still love it. Written because she wanted to change the ending of Romeo and Juliet (how anyone likes RandJ enough to want to rewrite I have no clue.) and/or because her parents didn’t approve of a guy she was seeing. (according to genius, it would’ve been too early for Joe J so it could possibly be Boys Like Girls frontman, his image did clash with hers and they did release some cute songs together. However if you want my take it’s probably folklore about Emily, take for what you will)

This song has very oft gay vibes with the ‘They don’t approve of our love angle!’ but uses male pronouns so points redacted for that. HOWEVER this is a very early use of ~the male perspective~ in Taylor’s songs and for that it deserves all the love.

“ So I sneak out to the garden to see you/We keep quiet, 'cause we're dead if they knew/So close your eyes/Escape this town for a little while”

More rural town angst!!!

Nothing gets me more than rural town angst.

“Romeo, save me, they're trying to tell me how to feel/This love is difficult, but it's real”

Originally the lyric was “this love is different”. Granted I do not remember the source, i’s just lore implanted into my brain, but make of that what you will.

“"Marry me, Juliet, you'll never have to be alone/I love you, and that's all I really know/I talked to your dad, go pick out a white dress/It's a love story, baby, just say "Yes"”

Marry me Juliet from the male perspective :)

Also worth noting. This is Karlie’s (and Kim K’s lmao) favorite Taylor song which. While basic as hell. Makes this cover sad as hell to this former Kaylor. (thanks @swiftgron-get-married for the tears <3)

Also not to make this about a man AGAIN but the secret message is “Some day I’ll find this” AND SHE DID IM CRYING.

4. Hey Stephen 1/10

The one thing Camilla Cabello and I have in common is loving this song, so I have to live with that for the rest of my life.

This song is very painfully straight.

How can you think this woman is a gold star lesbian.

The only noteworthy thing is that this is one of the few songs she confirms who it’s about. The secret message is “Love and Theft” which is the name of a country music duo who went on to open her Fearless tour. Which, does make me side eye this song a little bit.

Still a cute song.

“Hey Stephen, boy, you might have me believing/I don't always have to be alone”

5. White Horse 1/10

Oh look. It’s track five.

You know maybe this is just me being a bitch but in my ranking of track fives this is. Pretty low. Maybe on the bottom.

Like I don’t have a lot to say about it.

She’s going through it over a guy. He was a cheating dickweazel.

“'Cause I'm not your princess, this ain't a fairytale/I'm gonna find someone someday/Who might actually treat me well”

“Try and catch me now, oh/It's too late/To catch me now”

These lines hit though!!

And she found Joe!! Who treats her well!!!! And she isn’t the princess, she’s the prince who dropped her sword and knocked on her door!!! But this time if they come for them she’s ready!!!

Yes I will make every song about Long Story Short <3

6. You Belong With Me 5/10

Ah yes. The other THE Taylor Swift song.

You know. If I went to a high school with a cheerleading squad. And I had a crush on a cheerleader. I would blast this song. So for that it gets a 5/10. Otherwise. Fairly straight and fairly iconic.

7. Breathe 8/10

Well. We know this one is about a woman. (Emily Poe for those not in the know. Ha. A rhyme!) That alone has an 8/10. And it’s the first time she has a featured artist so bonus points for that!

It was nominated for a Grammy and it fucking lost to Jason Mraz. When’s the last time you thought about Jason Mraz.

I will not have Kaylor feels on a fucking Fearless song but damn is it VERY easy.

“Never a clean break, no one here to save me/You're the only thing I know like the back of my hand”

“It's 2 A.M, feeling like I just lost a friend/Hope you know it's not easy, easy for me”

Also this bridge? Goes off. HIGHLY underrated.

8. Tell Me Why 3/10

You know. Maybe this album isn’t as gay as I once thought.

This song does bop though, not as good as her other angry songs on this album. But I can vibe with this you know. Why are you being an asshole mysterious man.

“You could write a book on how to ruin someone's perfect day”

This has to be one of baby Tay’s best burns. Damn.

“Why do you have to make me feel small/So you can feel whole inside?/Why do you have to put down my dreams/So you're the only thing on my mind?”

Men ain’t shit kids. However, bonus points for the shade.

9. You’re not Sorry 1/10

Ok, ok. Maybe this was a foolish endeavor.

Because yet again we have a very straight song. A good song. That was on Taylor’s episode of CSI. But oh dear. Very straight. Gets a measly one point. We started this post off so very very gay but damn. We seem to be nearing the end on a very straight note.

10. The Way I Loved You 20/10

Hey Remember what I said about this album being very straight.

WELL THAT WAS A LIE.

Is this a comphet album or am I projecting.

This is one of my favorite baby gay Taylor songs. Her masterful use of pronouns (he is sensible! And so incredible! And all my single friends are jealous! But I miss screaming and fighting and kissing in the rain, when it was two am and I was cursing your name!) makes the other person she’s singing about completely vague, while we know she isn’t happy with whichever guy she’s dating.

Mayhaps an early reaction to PRomances?

Either way this song is so good, truly an underrated gay gem I mean. Look at it.

“Breaking down and coming undone/It's a roller coaster kind of rush/And I never knew I could feel that much/And that's the way I loved you”

AND THE BRIDGE. Do all of her gay songs just have kickass bridges?

“He can't see the smile I'm faking/And my heart's not breaking/'Cause I'm not feeling anything at all/And you were wild and crazy/Just so frustrating/Intoxicating, complicated/Got away by some mistake and now…”

Damn. I’m imaging this with 2020 vocals and fucking ascending.

Also please watch the live performance of it from the Fearless tour. It’s such a damn shame this got cut from the movie and some woman in the front row is wearing a cowboy hat. Everyone is holding up those cameras everyone had to have before smartphones. Taylor is being endearing. It’s a good time.

11. Forever and Always 6/10

Bonus points for the ~drama~ of it all. Added last minute to the album? The iconic throwing of the chair in live performances?? All of it very dramatique and for that we stan.

Still pretty straight.

Also Joe Jonas responded to the song and why do I find his response so damn funny. “It’s part of being a musician, I guess. You write songs about each other.”

This is another song where the idea of Taylor’s grown up vocals on this is………..whew

12. The Best Day 0/10

This gets zero points because it’s about her literal mom.

Still makes me cry.

God bless Andrea Swift indeed

13. Change 13/10

We start the official tracklist with a gay song. We end it with a gay song.

We will ignore that it was originally written for Scott and BMR and instead induct it into the hall of gay pride anthems, as it should be.

“We're getting stronger now, finding things they never found/They might be bigger but we're faster and never scared/You can walk away, say we don't need this/But there's something in your eyes says we can beat this”

“This revolution, the time will come/For us to finally win/And we'll sing hallelujah, we'll sing hallelujah”

The music video is cringe though lol

14. Jump then Fall 10/10

This song is gay because I choose it to be. <3

Like. Picture baby Taylor writing this song and playing it on her guitar to a girl she has a crush on telling her that she’ll protect her and they’ll be safe and in love and happy together. Gah, maybe I’m ~projecting~ but this sweet ass song always gets me and is EASILY in my top five Taylor songs. Super underrated and hecking cute.

“We're on the phone and without a warning/I realize your laugh is the best sound/I have ever heard”

Like. Look at this shit.

“I watch you talk, you didn't notice/I hear the words but all I can think is/We should be together”

Tell me this is about the first time you get a crush on a girl and she’s your best friend and she’s amazing and beautiful and you realize you kinda want to kiss her and you hope she wants to kiss you too.

“I had time to think it oh, over/And all I can say is come closer/Take a deep breath and jump then fall into me”

And she’s the Romeo who's going to protect her!!!!! She’s the knight in shining armor in this song and I love that for her??

“The bottom's gonna drop out from under our feet/I'll catch you, I'll catch you/When people say things that bring you to your knees/I'll catch you/The time is gonna come when you're so mad you could cry/But I'll hold you through the night until you smile”

I won’t divulge into full on analysis here because. This is what this post is about but PLEASE listen to this song more. It’s such a gay little gem.

15. Untouchable 9/10

How does she make a cover sound gay.

It sounds so gay.

“You got to come on, come on, say that we'll be together/Come on, come on, little taste of heaven”

Gaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay

16. Forever and Always Piano Version 1/10

This song gets 1/10 because I don’t like it. There. I said it.

17. Come in With the Rain 3/10

I can see why this is a bonus track. It doesn’t hit me as much as the other songs on the album.

But damn if I don’t want to scream sing this one driving down a high way.

18. Superstar 7/10

You can’t tell me this song is about a man. I simply won’t entertain the idea.

You cannot prove to me that this song is about a man. There is not a male pronoun in sight.

>:)

19. The Other Side of the Door 6/10

Is this song about having a fight about being in the closet? Probably not. Will my gay little brain make it about that? Yep!

And that, funky little queer pals, is my gay rating of every Fearless song. Like and subscribe, #t3atmidnight

#long post //#fearless the album #gaylor #what do i tag this for it to show up for peope??#gay rating

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beautiful-and-terrible · 4 years

Text

dazed ‘n‘ confused (part 3)

A/N: 3500 fuckin’ words y’all lmaooo i am so stupidly invested in this dumbass and his hot neighbor.

Ship: Rodrick Heffley x OFC

Warnings: underage drinking / drug usage, dubious consent (both parties inebriated), swearing, etc.

---

Nicole shouldn’t have worried so much about what to wear. When she showed up in Rodrick’s garage, his friends Ben and Chris were there, both dressed in ripped jeans and flannel shirts paired over band t-shirts. By comparison, Nicole’s black skater skirt and combat boots felt almost fancy.

“Hey, I’m Ben,” the dark-haired one holding a red electric guitar came up to her and gave her a fist bump. She almost laughed, not having fist-bumped anyone since she was 13. “Nicole,” she replied, smiling.

“I’m Chris!” the blonde called over, waving, before turning back to adjusting his microphone and checking the settings on their audio.

Rodrick seemed to appreciate her style, at least. He came through the garage door, carrying a four-pack of Monster energy and whistled, giving her a quick up-and-down glance, “Hey, groupie.”

Nicole punched his arm as he walked by. “I came here to listen to you play, so… play.”

“Your wish is my command,” Rodrick said with a dramatic bow.

Nicole found a relatively comfortable spot as far from the speakers as she could get - this wasn’t a concert, but loud speakers could still be painful after an extended period of time. The clack of Rodrick’s drumsticks alerted her, and before she knew it there was a blast of noise and a blur of limbs.

Honestly, he wasn’t bad, Nicole thought to herself after they had played a few songs. He could use a little more control, but what musician didn’t get caught up in their music? Glancing outside, Nicole saw that it was finally growing dark out. The sky had turned a soft purple, and she could see a few fireflies flashing in the cooling grass. She checked the time on her phone - 9:15.

“Hey, do you guys know Caitlin?” she asked the group. They turned to look at her.

“Caitlin Irving or Caitlin Peters?” Ben asked, taking an impressive gulp of Monster before burping loudly. The boys fell into fits of laughter. Nicole couldn’t help laughing, too.

“I don’t know her last name, she works at Starbucks, though.”

“Ohhhhhh, Caitlin! Yeah, we know her. Why?”

“She invited me to a party tonight, but I don’t really know anyone but her. Would you guys wanna be my plus-three?”

Ben and Chris high-fived each other, and Rodrick saluted her with his drumstick, whacking himself in the head in the process. Nicole hid a laugh behind her hand, not wanting to embarrass him. “For sure, Nikky. As long as there's drinks, we’ll be there,” Chris said.

“C’mon, we can take my van,” Rodrick said, shoving his drumsticks in his back pocket and running inside to grab his keys. The other boys started down the driveway toward the white van, garishly painted with the band's name on the side in bold, black letters.

When Rodrick returned, Nicole gave him a smug look. “I thought it needed repairs?”

Rodrick stopped walking mid-stride, looking like a puppet caught on its strings. “Uh. Yeah. Well. My dad helped, when you were over at your house. Getting ready. It’s fine now. He’s the best mechanic I know.”

“Uh-huh. You sure you didn’t just… want to ride home with me from work?”

Rodrick scoffed. “You wish.” But as he rounded the front of the car to the drivers side, you caught the scarlet color of his cheeks against his tan skin. As if he could be any more endearing, he even offered Nicole shotgun. Chris grumbled the entire time, but begrudgingly gave you the seat he had worked so hard to acquire.

“First stop - Capital. Ben has a fake, so we can BYOB,” Rodrick said, practically peeling out of the driveway. Nicole clutched the seat for dear life, heart stuck in her throat.

“Are you sure this thing is secure?” she squeaked, feeling the seat shaking a little in its bolts.

“No one has been ejected yet, Nikky,” Rodrick laughed.

“Go-go gadget get me the fuck out of here,” Nicole groaned, planting her feet on the floor to try and stop herself from flying forward as Rodrick squealed to a stop in front of a seedy looking liquor store.

Ben barely avoided taking the sliding door off its tracks when he opened the door. Chris lit a cigarette in the back, the acrid scent wafting to the front of the van. Nicole didn’t mind the smell much - honestly it reminded her of her Grandmother's house - but she hoped the smell didn’t linger on her clothes. That would be hard to explain to her mom. Speaking of, she sent off a quick text to her parents telling them that she’d be back late. Luckily, Nicole had always been the responsible type, so her parents trusted her to make good decisions and as a result, let her have free reign of her life (especially now that she was 18).

Ben returned after a few minutes, carrying a 24 pack of Natty Light and lighting his own cigarette.

“You have the address?” Rodrick asked, and you showed him Caitlins text.

“Yo, that's in Heather Hill’s neighborhood. Maybe we can tee-pee her house later,” Rodrick said, already zooming off again.

“Heather Hills?”

“Major bitch,” Chris called from the back of the van. Rodrick shrugged. “She’s not a bitch she’s just… not very nice.”

Nicole laughed, “You don’t have to defend the honor of all women by not calling her a bitch. If she’s a bitch, I believe you.”

Rodrick looked at you out of the corner of his eye, thinking briefly.

“Yeah, she’s a stone-cold bitch. She ran over my foot once. With her car.”

Nicole grimaced in sympathy.

“Last year, we played at her Sweet Sixteen party, and Rodrick broke her ice sculpture bust. It was awesome,” Ben said.

“Oh, so you aren’t always perfect?” Nicole teased. Rodrick flipped her off.

Soon, they pulled up in front of Caitlin’s house. Nicole could already hear loud music from outside the house, and there were rainbow strobe lights flashing in the windows. Swallowing her nervousness, she followed Rodrick, Chris and Ben up the front walkway.

As they walked in the house, Nicole was hit by the fragrant, herbal smell of weed. From far away, the music had seemed loud, but coming in the house the music seemed to vibrate her ribcage - it was something with a repetitive bass, stuff Nicole didn’t normally listen to but she enjoyed it nonetheless. She followed Rodrick further into the house, trying to find the kitchen, weaving between people dancing and couples making out.

There were people surrounding an island in the center of the kitchen, decorated with colorful bottles of liquor and sodas to mix with. Nicole spotted Caitlin talking to a tall black guy, drinking out of a red solo cup. Nicole gave her a wave, and Caitlin excitedly came over to greet her.

“Hey! I’m so glad you made it.”

“Yeah, me too. I haven’t actually ever been to a high school party.”

Caitlin’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Well, you’re gonna have one hell of a first high school party experience, girly. Let's get you a drink.”

Caitlin turned to the kitchen island and poured about four shots of rum and filled the rest with coke in a red solo cup. Nicole took a sip. She could barely tell it was spiked, so she took a few more chugs and wiped her mouth on the back of her hand.

“Do you wanna dance?” Caitlin asked, and Nicole nodded before following her back to the living room. Already, the rum was making her limbs feel looser and her brain fuzzy. She finished the rest of it in one go, enjoying the feeling of her nervousness and insecurities fading away. Nicole had never been unpopular, per say, but she tended to stay to herself and only had a few close friends at her old school, anyway. It was refreshing to feel included, and she couldn’t help feeling that this was the way her teenage years were supposed to be - loud and exciting and living moment to moment.

As they danced, Nicole swaying in place and occasionally spinning around, she couldn’t help but feeling a little awkward. Caitlin was actually a really good dancer - she knew how to move her body in all the right ways so they hit on beat with the music. Nicole envied her easy grace, but was quickly relieved when Caitlin accidentally bumped into someone, causing them to spill their drink. Nicole stifled a laugh, not at Caitlin’s expense, just at the irony of the timing. At least Nicole wasn’t the only clutz.

They had been dancing for only a few minutes before Nicole felt a hand on her waist, making her jump slightly.

“Hey, the guys and I are gonna smoke some weed in the backyard. Do you wanna come?” Rodrick said. His voice was almost in her ear, close enough that she could hear him over the blaring music, his breath tickling her sensitive skin.

She turned around to face him - in the dim light of the house, he looked much more appealing than usual - she hadn’t even noticed he had put eyeliner on, but it made the dark of his eyes look even more obsidian. Nicole nodded, giving a thumbs up, and pulled Caitlin along with her.

“I need you for moral support,” Nicole said, making Caitlin laugh.

“Have you ever smoked weed before?” Caitlin asked.

“Nope.”

Caitlin raised her eyebrows and pulled her closer as they walked to whisper in her ear.

“Okay, take a small hit the first time, don’t try to impress anyone. But breathe it fully into your lungs - I like to start by pulling it into my mouth first, and then inhaling fully. And if you cough, don’t worry, almost everyone does their first time.”

Nicole gave her a grateful look as they approached the circle of people sitting on lawn chairs in the backyard. Ben and Chris were already there, with two other girls Nicole didn’t know. However, there seemed to only be two more lawn chairs available to sit on.

Nicole was about to plop down on the grass before Caitlin grabbed her hand.

“You should sit on Rodrick’s lap,” she whispered, and Nicole almost choked on her drink.

“What?”

“Dude, he’s totally into you - I don’t know what your sitch is, but I think he’s probably a little nervous about making the first move. Just do it, and if he asks, say ‘sorry, there weren’t enough seats and I don’t wanna get bug bites from the grass.”

Nicole stared at her, mouth agape. The alcohol in her brain was telling her it might not be the worst idea ever. And you know what? Fuck it. You’re only young once. Nicole made up her mind, and squeezing Caitlin’s hand, she walked over to where Rodrick was sitting before primly making herself comfortable on his thigh.

She felt him tense beneath her immediately, before his hand came up to her waist to steady her. Before he had the chance to say anything about it, the joint was passed to him, and he took an impressive hit, the cherry glowing red at the end for several seconds. Nicole watched him with interest, hoping she wouldn’t mess up too badly and embarrass herself.

Rodrick looked up at her as he exhaled the smoke, holding the joint out to her. Not paying attention, and entranced by the eye contact they were holding, she reached out to take the joint without looking and promptly burned her hand on it.

“Fucker,” she hissed, shaking her hand to try and get rid of the pain. Rodrick just laughed.

“Do you want help?” Rodrick asked, before taking another hit of the joint. He reached up behind Nicole’s head, threading his fingers through her hair, before pulling her down close to his face, their lips inches apart. Nicole instinctively opened her mouth, half from surprise and half in anticipation of being kissed. But Rodrick simply blew a steady stream of smoke into her mouth, - their lips didn’t make contact. Belatedly, Nicole realized she was supposed to be inhaling, so she did quickly, trying to hold the smoke in her lungs for as long as possible.

Somebody wolf-whistled in the group. Nicole was pretty sure it was Caitlin.

Eventually, she ended up coughing it out, Rodrick rubbing her back but still laughing.

“You’re a green at the green, huh?” Rodrick asked, and Nicole rolled her eyes.

“That obvious?”

“Yeah, but it’s cute. I’m glad you’re having your first high with me,” Rodrick said, smiling sweetly. Nicole’s stomach fluttered. Already, she could tell that this wasn’t alcohol she was feeling anymore - the buzz she had been feeling earlier was replaced by something much slower and velvety, like the world was moving through maple syrup.

“Dude,” Nicole said after a minute, realizing she had been staring at nothing. Rodrick looked at her. She looked at him. They both started cracking up laughing.

“What are we laughing at?” Nicole hiccuped through her laughter.

“No idea,” Rodrick said, wiping his eyes free of tears of mirth.

“Rodrick, pass the J,” Ben called out, breaking the two of them from their trance. Without thinking about it, Nicole leaned back onto Rodrick’s chest, enjoying the warmth of his body. It wasn’t a cold night, per say, but Nicole was only wearing a skirt and a t-shirt, and she had always had poor circulation. She shivered involuntarily.

“Do you want my flannel?” Rodrick asked, already taking it off. Nicole sat up, ruffling his hair playfully.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you just want to show off your arms,” Nicole said, slipping on the warm blue flannel and resting her hand on Rodrick’s exposed arm, once again in a cut-off tank top. Rodrick gave her a funny look.

“What do you mean?”

Nicole suddenly found herself tongue tied. “Uh. I mean. You just wear a lot of tank tops.”

Rodrick raised an eyebrow, but said nothing else. Nicole leaned back against him again, feeling simultaneously self-conscious and exhilarated. They had never touched for this long before. She wasn’t sure exactly what was happening between them, but she liked the direction it was going. Even though they hadn’t known each other long, Nicole felt more comfortable with Rodrick than she did anyone else - even though most of the time she had known him, he had been a nuisance to her. Well… maybe not a complete nuisance.

It was funny to think that only a few days ago, Rodrick was just an annoyance she dealt with at her job and admired from afar, and now she was sitting on his lap, wearing his flannel. She leaned her head back, looking at the stars. She hadn’t noticed that Caitlin had left, but suddenly she appeared over her line of vision, grinning.

“Do you want a beer?” she asked, holding a cold can over Nicole’s forehead. Nicole reached out to take it, sitting up before cracking it open. She wasn’t in the habit of enjoying beer for the flavor, so she’d rather get drunk off it quickly. It tasted like wet cardboard, but Nicole managed to chug it down.

“Damn, girl, where’d you learn to drink like that?” Chris asked, laughing as Nicole belched loudly.

“Years of rigorous practice and intense concentration, young padawan,” Nicole replied.

“Do you wanna shotgun one with me?” Chris asked, half-joking, but Nicole was feeling overly confident from the buzz she was feeling and readily stepped up to the challenge.

“Whoever spits it out owes the other ten bucks.”

“Fuckin’ deal,” Chris grinned, Ben cheering him on as he threw a beer toward Nicole. She (surprisingly) caught it.

“Wait, gimme one,” Rodrick said, making grabby hands in Ben’s direction, who threw him a beer.

“On three, okay?” Ben counted. They all started to crack open their beers, Nicole with her house keys, Rodrick with his car keys, and Chris with his pen knife.

“One.. twoooooo…. Three!” Ben yelled, and they all tipped their heads back, drinking from the hole in the side of the can. Nicole’s eyes watered, but she was too competitive to back down now. Foam spilled out of the side of her mouth, but she kept drinking. She could hear people chanting her name as she finally threw the beer can down on the ground, raising her hands in victory. Both Rodrick and Chris were covered in beer foam, but Nicole somehow stayed relatively clean, minus the beer she wiped off her face.

“Ten motherfucking bucks, Chris,” Nicole slurred slightly, grinning at him as he pulled out a crumpled bill from his pocket and threw it at her.

“Rodrick, how the fuck did you lose, dude? You were the one who taught me how to shotgun,” Ben said, causing Nicole to throw her head back in laughter, before letting out another massive burp that lasted for several seconds. The whole group dissolved into laughter.

Eventually, the joint got finished, and people started to move back inside. However, Rodrick and Nicole stayed outside, talking about whatever came into their heads.

“Were you ever into Greek mythology as a kid?” Nicole asked, watching Rodrick’s eyes go comically large.

“Does Percy Jackson count?”

Nicole pretended to consider it deeply for a moment, before shaking her head. Rodrick pouted.

“I only got into Greek mythology because of Percy Jackson. So, I think it still counts.

“Fine. But do you know shit about the constellations they’re associated with?”

Rodrick pointed at the sky, at a random cluster of stars.

“For sure - that's Dingus Humongus, he was a Greek hero with the fattest ass known to man.”

“Sounds like my kinda guy,” Nicole replied, sticking her tongue out as Rodrick squawked in indignation.

“Besides a fat ass, what do you look for in a guy? Not, like, that I care. Just. Wondering.”

“Very good English, Rodrick,” Nicole laughed, “I guess my type is… someone kind. And funny. Someone who tries to be cool and is actually a huge dork. And musical, that's always a plus,” she said, feeling very bold as she looked directly at him. It took Rodrick a moment, but eventually his mouth formed a small “oh” as he realized who she was talking about. His eyes flicked down to her lips. Then he frowned, “I am not a dork.”

Nicole rolled her eyes, “And I’m totally not waiting for you to kiss me right now.”

Nicole watched as the color slowly rose in Rodrick’s cheeks, turning them rosy pink, visible even in the shadow-drenched backyard. Nicole decided to pull yet another risky move, and adjusted herself on Rodrick’s lap so that she was facing him, her thighs on top of his arms around his neck. For such a seemingly confident boy, Rodrick seemed more nervous than she had ever seen him, even when he asked her to come to band practice earlier. Hell, he hadn’t even been that nervous to shotgun the joint into her mouth.

“Sorry, I just… I’ve wanted to do this for a long time. I don’t wanna be bad at it,” he confessed. Just as Nicole thought she couldn’t be any more endeared by this boy. She slid her hands into his hair, thick and soft. She leaned in and gently nosed at his jawline, placing small kisses against his warm skin. Right at his jugular, he smelled like cologne and nighttime and boy, the right mix of clean and sexy. Seemingly gaining his courage, he grabbed Nicole by the back of her head and brought her up to his lips.

It was soft, at first, merely a press of skin to skin, but the two gradually deepened the kiss, moving against each other like they were made for it. Nicole felt like her heart might beat out of her chest - or maybe she was just that high.

Feeling emboldened by Rodrick’s enthusiasm, she slipped her tongue between his lips, gently tangling their tongues together. He let out a low moan, and Nicole could’ve blacked out from how turned on she was by that simple sound. The warmth of his body against hers and the slickness of their mouths together caused a rush of liquid heat to form between Nicole’s legs. Goddamn, he was good at this. Nicole wasn’t sure how many girls Rodrick had kissed before this, but if he was a rookie at this she was damn impressed.

Rodrick’s hands, which had been resting on her waist, slowly moved down her ass and under her skirt, causing Nicole to gasp as he started to knead and grab at her cheeks - not hard, but enough to get her even more hot and bothered than she thought possible.

“Is this okay?” Rodrick asked, his voice low and rough.

“Yeah, I’m good,” Nicole replied, running her fingers through his hair and scratching her nails down his neck. She felt him shiver beneath her, sending a heady rush of power to her stomach and lower. He pulled her closer to him by her ass, so that their crotches pressed together. Nicole was taken aback by the sensation of his bulge pressed against her, but didn’t pull back, instead grinding down on him.

“Are there still people out here?” Rodrick asked shakily. Nicole pulled back and looked over her shoulder - the backyard was empty, thank god.

“No, just us,” Nicole said, turning back and bringing her lips to his ear, biting and licking the sensitive flesh. Rodrick whimpered, grinding up to meet her, and Nicole almost lost it then and there.

The alcohol and weed in her system were slowing her reactions, but also kept her from thinking too much about what she was doing - all she could think about was how much she wanted this. Sober, this might’ve never happened - she was too nervous about what he would think if she ever made a move, constantly overthinking her every word and action. This dumb boy, who rode with her to work, who stayed to the end of her shift and bought her slushies, had wiggled his way into her every thought and every beat of her heart. She knew she was fucked.

She only wished it was literally.

Nicole opened her eyes briefly to catch Rodrick’s gaze, and out of the corner of her eye she glimpsed the red-and-blue flash of police lights. Rodrick caught sight of the lights at the same time.

“Oh, fuck.”

#rodrick heffley #rodrick heffley x reader #rodrick heffley x original female character #rodrick heffley fanfic #rodrick #diary of a wimpy kid #fanfiction #emo #music #band #emomusic

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cagestark · 4 years

Text

-Unfinished-

That’s the title, btw.

About this: Stuckony, college!au with older Tony. NFF. 9.4k. Minor CBT, daddy kink, spanking mentioned.

“Steve - 3 o’clock.”

Steve doesn’t tilt his head up from where he is looking at his phone, but behind his dark tinted sunglasses, Bucky knows that his blue eyes are scanning the crowd that crosses the southern sidewalk of the quad. Bucky knows when Steve has spotted the man in question because his mouth parts enough for a breathy exhale, tongue wetting his lower lip.

“God,” Steve murmurs. “No chance he’s a student.”

“Forties, you think?” Not that there aren’t students of all ages moving on campus today, but there are no bags by his side, no pack slung over his shoulder, no sense of eager urgency as he stands watching the afternoon sun play off the fountain that’s dead center of the open, grassy area. Faculty or family, Bucky thinks.

“Couldn’t say for certain,” Steve says. “Wouldn’t say for certain. Jesus, he looks good.”

“Better than good, come on, admit it.”

“What makes you think he’s interested?”

“No wife at his side,” says Bucky. “But more importantly, no straight man is stylish enough to wear boots like that.”

Steve gives a long suffering sigh. He slips his phone into his back pocket, and Bucky takes the moment to admire the way his boyfriend’s shirt clings tightly to his biceps. Buying Steve shirts is a chore, always too loose around his trim waist and always too tight across his chest and arms. A chore, but no crime. At least, not one Bucky’s suffering from. “Well,” says Steve. “Should we introduce ourselves? ‘S only polite.”

Bucky gives a shark’s grin.

Up close, the man is even more striking than he’d appeared across the quad. He has thick, dark hair that lays with stylish disorder, and neatly groomed facial hair threaded with gray. His eyes are hidden behind dark Ray-Bans, but they can see his eyebrows rise steadily at their approach, the corners of his full mouth slipping upward. He’s more than a head shorter than they are, but his petite stature belies a strength.

Steve, ever amiable, offers his hand. “Hi there. Steve Rogers, Art postgrad. This here is—”

“James Barnes, Criminal Justice.”

“—do you need any help finding your dorm?”

As they speak, the stranger’s smile grows wider and wider. He reaches up to push back his sunglasses, really dark eyes surrounded by healthy lines hinting at many smiles. When he takes Steve’s hand in a firm shake, Bucky feels downright jealous of his own boyfriend’s palm. Hastily offering his own, he’s treated to a calloused palm that is small in his own grip but no less strong.

No wedding ring.

“Tony,” says the man. “Boys, you should know I’ve been playing the game longer than you’ve been alive.”

“What game?” Steve asks, grinning widely. They all take note of the way Tony’s eyes drop to Steve’s mouth, the full lips, the neat lines of white teeth, the facial hair he’s taking way too much fucking pride in (though Bucky sure as hell doesn’t mind the beardburn).

“If you know the game, then you should know how to play along,” Bucky says, winking.

Tony laughs, the lines around his mouth and eyes blooming. The sound makes Bucky’s gut flutter, his chest clenching tight with fondness that feels too strong to have for a man they’ve just met. “I’m no student,” says Tony. Then, a little more cautious: “I just finished moving my son in. Freshman; bioengineering.”

Bucky’s eyes nearly roll. He reaches out to put a stabilizing hand on his boyfriend’s strong shoulder, leaning into him dramatically. Yeah, Bucky has father issues, what else was he going to get growing up with a ma who raised him and his sisters alone after their old man walked out? The gray in Tony’s facial hair had called to him, but the downright authenticity in him being a parent? Bucky can feel his cock tingling already.

“You hear that?” Bucky leans in to whisper into Steve’s ear dramatically. Out of the corner of his eye, he watches Tony watch them, notices dimly the flicker of anxiety that passes through his expressive eyes, the drawing of his brows together. His eyes widen with more than a little incredulity when Bucky goes on to say: “He’s not just a daddy, he’s a dad.”

Steve slips an arm around Bucky’s shoulder and pulls him close, patting at his head with theatrical indulgence. “Your weakness,” Steve sighs.

Tony snorts, turning away to stare out over the quad and pretend to give them privacy. A healthy flush rises to his face, a few shades short of a flush. Flattered, Bucky thinks. Maybe he’s been turned down recently for his age, for having a grown son. Maybe he thinks he’s getting too old to attract lovers but he’s dead fucking wrong.

Steve murmurs something else to him but it falls on deaf ears because Tony’s head has turned back towards them, eyes widening in horror. Bucky reels just in time to catch a football as it strikes him in the chest, knocking the breath out of him a little. Sprinting across the quad towards them is a familiar, dark skinned man who looks more delighted than concerned.

“Jesus Christ, Wilson!” Steve barks, demeanor changing from soft to authoritative in an instant. “What the hell are you thinking, kickin’ a ball this direction? You could have hit someone!”

“Just Barnes,” Sam pants. “No great loss.”

“I’ll remember that next time we’re in a sociology class and you’re begging for my notes, buddy,” Bucky says, throwing him the ball. Sam catches it with a dry thud, tucking it under one arm to greet Steve with a pat on the back.

A hand touches his shoulder and he turns to see Tony, eyes flickering between his sternum where the ball made contact and Bucky’s face. “Are you alright? I’m sorry I didn’t notice it sooner. Fuck, I thought it was going to take your head off.”

“I’m alright, doll,” Bucky says, realizing a little too late the endearment slipping off the tip of his tongue.

Tony snorts in a way that makes Bucky feel silly for falling into familiarity so soon. “I’m hardly a doll; I’m twice your fucking age, James.”

“Bucky,” Bucky supplies. “Friends call me Bucky. Twice my age, huh? Does that mean you’ll call me ‘baby’?”

“Means you should address him as sir, Buck,” Steve chimes in. Tony licks his lips, a subconscious action that he and Steve can’t help but zero in on. Feeling the heat of their gaze on him, Tony reaches up to slide his sunglasses back down over his eyes, a loss Bucky downright laments. The silence that rests between them feels thick with something. Promise, Bucky hopes. Chemistry, for sure.

“Oh Jesus,” Sam mutters, breaking the moment. “Y’all make me sick with that fifty-shades of gray bullshit. If I have to hear Rogers spanking the holy hell out of you one more time I’m going to mistake it for a domestic dispute.”

“Hey, let’s not make light of domestic violence,” Steve says. When he glances over (hoping for a blush, a flush, any sign that their banter is affecting him), Tony’s head is ducked, and maybe he’s looking at the ground, politely playing spectator in the conversation, but Bucky thinks that maybe he’s looking at Steve’s hands, broad and strong and capable of delivering spanks that have Bucky’s teeth chattering.

Bucky ups the ante. “Can’t mistake it for nothing than what it is, Wilson, not when I’m thankin’ him after every spank.”

“If you were spanking him right,” says Tony suddenly, flashing eyes that burn from behind his sunglasses. “The only word he should be able to say is please.”

Bucky’s mouth goes dry, a ringing in his ears as he stares at Tony’s confident, experienced gaze where it rests on Bucky’s own boyfriend. He’s got the urge to go down on his knees then and there, to ask for a demonstration that will leave his ass aching for days. By the time his soul returns to his body, he’s missed half of whatever Sam is saying.

“—came over here to find you two fuckers because some of the other boys asked me to. Want to throw some ball? The field’s clear for it.”

“Hell yeah,” Bucky says to cover up the fact that he wasn’t listening. “Steve?”

“Sure,” the blond agrees in his calm, agreeable way.

Tony clears his throat, taking a step away from the group. Bucky and Steve share an alarmed look from behind their own sunglasses. Tony strikes them as the kind of man who always keeps a foot out the door, but they don’t want him to get away so easily. Especially if what he really wants is to be there as bad as they think he does.

“Nice meeting you boys,” he says. “Enjoy your game—I’d say stay out of trouble but if you’re anything like I was, that will only encourage you—”

“Whoa, you’re leaving already?” Bucky asks. At risk of coming on too strong too soon, Bucky reaches out to put a gentle hand on Tony’s shoulder, watching him closely. When the man’s mouth parts a little, no sign of being uncomfortable visible in the set of his shoulders or the lines of his face, Bucky squeezes a little, feeling burning skin through Tony’s leather jacket.

“We could really use a referee,” Steve offers. In a stage whisper: “Bucky cheats.”

Bucky pulls away to lightly punch at one of Steve’s broad shoulders. “That’s Steve’s way of saying I’m talented. If we have an unbiased judge for once, will that put to rest this cheating bullshit, Steve? Then Tony, you’ve got to come watch. Unless you’ve got someplace to be. Is your wife waiting in the car, maybe?”

Tony snorts softly. He holds up his hand, free of rings. “No wife. But if you’re any good at this game, you already knew that.”

“If you’re so knowledgeable, then you must know that we needed to hear you say it,” Steve counters lowly. It’s Steve’s turn to put one broad palm on Tony’s shoulder, and the size difference between them is enough to have Bucky’s throat squeezing tight like when Steve’s got a hand around it. Fuck, he could see it all in his head like the filthiest show: Steve bending Tony in half across the island in their off-campus apartment together, Tony’s smaller figure riding Steve, making eyes at Bucky across the room. But he’s getting ahead of himself. “What do you say, Tony? Help us settle an old score?”

“At your service,” says Tony, grinning widely.

“What the fuck are you doing, Tony,” Tony mutters under his breath to himself. The field looks lovely, even if the lines are faded and not yet repainted. The grass is lush and green, providing the perfect background for Steve and Bucky’s pale bodies. They’ve got him set up on the first row of the stands so that he has ‘the best vantage’.

The vantage is pretty fucking good. When the two grad students had joined their half-dozen friends, the two had immediately shed their shirts, giving them to Tony for safekeeping. Thank God for sunglasses, because it gave Tony the freedom to let his eyes wander over two of the most sculpted chests he’s ever seen outside of a magazine or television. It’s fucking obscene how broad Steve’s shoulders are, the way they taper to his slim waist. Neither of them has a single hair on their chests, and Steve is notably lacking the fine line of hair that Bucky has running from his navel down into his shorts.

Tony remembers those days. Waxing, working out, keeping his body firm and appealing so as to attract and delight whatever sex he wanted to go home with that night. That had changed after Pepper, her not-so-playful wondering of Why are you trying so hard, Tony? You’ve already got me. Their breakup years ago had swept all the dirt from beneath the rug, and her accusations of infidelity still stung after all this time.

Still reminded Tony that he was just a washed-up old man compared to these kids horsing around on the football field of his alma mater. If he wanted to have a midlife crisis, he could go to the nearest dealership and buy a corvette. But is that all this is? When the two had approached him like tigers closing in on a tasty meal, he’d felt flattered. Almost embarrassed. He’d done such things during his college days—volunteered to wear the ugly red shirts that would set him apart as a student underclassmen could look to to ask questions. Escorting freshmen and sophomores to their dorm rooms had been the perfect way to strike up conversations, and Tony had ended up inside those dorm rooms more times than he could count.

He’d never been interested in men like him, though, always more interested in people his own age. If he’d seen a man in his (very) late forties with so much gray, he never would have given them the time of day. Too old for the casual lifestyle. He’d been prepared to tell the boys that, to send them on their way. But the same reason he didn’t was the same reason why he wasn’t meant to have casual-sex anymore. He caught feelings too quickly. Fifteen years of monogamy has reconditioned his brain, and now he craves the connection. Wonders what Steve and Bucky do on dates together, if they want to travel, if there’s room between them for another person.

“Tony, you dumb bastard,” he sighs to himself. Then, louder, cupping his hands around his mouth: “Hey—! That was holding, Bucky! Roll around with Steve on your own time!”

On the field, Bucky has Steve pinned to the grass. His torso, damp with sweat, catches the light as he twists to listen to what Tony’s saying. The grin he gives is far from apologetic, and judging by the way one of Steve’s large hands splays against the curve of his boyfriend’s waist, Steve is hardly a victim.

The rest of the team boo at Bucky, Sam cuffing his head gently as they all set up another play.

This must be foreplay for them, Tony thinks fondly, working hard to keep from grinning. The two of them have basically spent the entire game with their hands on each other. Tony won’t say he’s unaffected by the sight of two attractive men grappling with each other, of the position of power he’s in. When he shouts stop, they stop. Clearing his throat, he shifts, leaning forward to plant his elbows on his knees and hide the growing bulge in his jeans. His own jacket has been removed and sat to the side, too hot to wear it in the direct sunlight.

When Steve misses a signal because he’s too busy looking at Tony in the stands, it’s a good fucking feeling.

The kiss the two of them share when Bucky scores a touchdown (even if he’s on the opposite team from Steve) is open-mouthed and deep, both of Steve’s hands cupping either side of Bucky’s face to hold them together, the searing heat between them enough for Tony to feel even so far away. One hand drifts down to cup Bucky’s ass and Tony groans under his breath, forced to turn his gaze away.

By the end, Bucky’s team has won.

“Losers buy drinks!” Sam shouts to cheers from all.

A Monday night and they’re going out for drinks, oh to be young again.

Tony meets them on the field and is roped into an exuberant, sweaty hug from the victorious Bucky. They are easily a head taller than he is, and even though Tony isn’t some twink (he works out plenty often, though warding off heart disease isn’t sexy in any way shape or form), he can’t help but feel dwarfed. The hard planes of Bucky’s body pressed flush against his own, the way Steve’s eyes glitter as he takes in the sight of them—there’s a heat pooling low in Tony’s gut.

“Congratulations,” Tony says, breathing in the masculine scent of sweat. “And Steve, my condolences.”

“Thanks,” Steve laughs.

“Enjoy your drinks, gentlemen,” says Tony.

Bucky pulls back, frowning down at Tony. “What, you’re not coming with? Steve owes you a drink too. The referee gets the first drink, as a matter of fact. Come out with us.”

“Yeah, Tony,” says Steve coming up to wrap an arm around Bucky’s waist. The look they give him leaves no room for interpretation. Tony isn’t slow—for some reason he can’t begin to imagine, these two want to fuck him. Taking him out for a drink is far from a contract set in stone, but it’s the next step to Tony ending up between their sheets. Steve lifts a hand to thread it through Bucky’s dark hair. “Do you want us to beg?”

Tony licks his lips. “That would be a sight.”

“Is that a yes?’ Bucky asks. “Or should I get on my knees? You know—to beg.”

That image spears through Tony’s gut like a lightning bolt. “I could come out for a drink or two.”

One by one, their friends take their leave in various states of intoxication, many of them with aching cheeks and chests from laughing. Tony is a fucking hit, witty and sarcastic and clever. He roasts the boys like he’s one of them, but Steve and Bucky are all too aware of how he isn’t. The wisdom in his eyes, the sadness of his silences when he slips out of the conversation and loses himself in his thoughts.

Sam plays the most excellent wingman. When he leaves, dragging Bucky up out of the chair to grab him in a bone-aching hug, Sam mutters in his ear, “I like this guy. Treat him good.”

“And then there were three,” Tony murmurs, voice nearly lost to the noise of the bar. “Should we call it a night, or should we order another drink?”

“I don’t know about you two,” Steve says, “But I need to slow down. Maybe we should order something with a little more sustenance than the typical bar food.”

“Burgers?” Bucky offers. “What do you say, Tony? Are you in?”

Tony’s glossy eyes flicker between them, narrowed in playful confusion but with a healthy dose of skepticism. He’s had more to drink than any of them, starting out with hard liquor (letting everyone try his expensive aged whiskey) before tapering off to beer. His body is loose, face flushed, but he’s just as quick. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you two are trying to get me...sober. Which is actually a refreshing change of pace from the people I’m usually at bars with.”

“You don’t have to stop if you don’t want to.”

Reaching out, Tony finishes off the last of his draft before pushing the glass away. The smile he gives them is so fucking handsome, none of the anxiety or self-consciousness in his gaze the way there had been at the quad. What this incredible man has to be self-conscious about, Bucky has no fucking clue. Tony rubs his hands together. “So. Burgers?”

Over burgers, the conversation changes tempo from the fast-paced, superficial topics they’d discussed among the other college boys. The three of them may as well exist in their own little world; once the bar’s busy hours began, they moved to a smaller table in the corner to free up seats for larger parties, families flooding in to have their last dinners with their college kids before driving away. Gravitating towards each other, heads always leaned close to be heard over the music, Bucky has seen the waitress turn away from them more than once, unwilling to break the spell they all seem to hold over each other.

“So your son’s going to school for bioengineering?” Bucky asks, licking grease off his fingers.

Tony’s eyes watch the movement, so Bucky plays up the action, giving a flash of teeth and tongue before sucking his fingers clean. He’s already feeling more sober, the greasy food soaking up the alcohol in his stomach. Tony reaches out for his sweating water glass and takes a large gulp that has Bucky hiding his smirk. “Peter. Yes, he’s always been especially interested in advanced prosthetics.”

“He’s in the right place then,” Steve says. “We’re number one in engineering this side of the Mississippi, and the head of the bioengineering department is top in her field.”

Tony smirks. “No need to sell me on the college, kids. I went here myself.”

Bucky leans forward. “Major?”

“Which one?”

“Ho-ly shit, Steve. You hear that? Which one. All the ones, Tony, all the ones.”

“I have a Masters in electrical engineering and physics.”

“Fuck me,” Bucky breathes. “You’re a genius.”

“It’s funny that you say that,” says Tony. “I have been called that once or twice or ten dozen times.”

“Can we ask about Peter’s mom?” Steve asks. He immediately regrets the question when Tony’s face falls from its easy smile. The crowd mills around them just outside the gravitational pull of their table, and Tony leans back in his chair to watch it for a long silent minute. Steve nudges the older man’s foot under the table. “Hey—you don’t have to answer that.”

Tony waves a careless hand, though there’s nothing relaxed about his expression. “It’s fine. Peter was the result of a one night stand during my younger less responsible days. Mary and I co-parented fine. She passed away after a terrible accident many years ago, when Peter was just a boy.”

Bucky’s heart aches, a physical weight in his chest it sinks like a stone tossed into water. “I’m so sorry,” he says.

“Me too. She was a very good woman and an incredible mother. After she died, I knew I couldn’t care for a young child on my own, so I remarried. Pepper is an awesome step-mother; when I was leaving Pete’s dorm, he was just booting up his laptop to Skype with her and show her his room. We divorced a handful of years ago because of—irreconcilable differences. It was rough on Peter.”

“And on you,” Bucky surmises.

Tony winces. He lifts his water to try and hide behind it. “That obvious?”

“Do you miss her?” Steve asks. His face is clear and open and sympathetic; Bucky knows him well enough to know that he isn’t the easily jealous type, that even if Tony said he was still madly in love with this ex-wife Pepper (and what kind of name is that, Bucky wonders) Steve wouldn’t take it personally.

“No,” says Tony without preamble. “The fighting was bad. I worked too much, I didn’t want more children, I didn’t make her feel wanted. She was convinced that if I wasn’t being intimate with her, then I was being intimate with someone else. My porn history is what really tipped her off to my changing proclivities. I thought, I’m too old to be having a sexuality crisis. She thought I’d misled her—tricked her into marrying a gay man.”

“There’s no such thing as too old,” Steve says with tenderness. “And you hardly could have tricked her if you hadn’t known yourself.”

Tony’s smile is misty, distracted. “Yeah. Well. Jesus, boys, would you look at the time?”

“Tony.”

“It was sweet of you kids to humor me, but I really should get going. It’s a long drive back to New York City.”

“Are you sure? You had a lot to drink,” Bucky says. There are a host of reasons why he wants Tony to stay—at this table, in this moment, in this bar—but more than anything, he wants Tony to be safe. And he wants Tony to want to stay.

“I’ll sober up on the walk back to the university’s parking lot, don’t worry.”

“Our place is close by,” Steve says. “We live in an apartment for graduates. It’s small and the walls are thin, but it’s clean and you’re more than welcome to stay and drive back in the morning.”

Tony frowns. Bucky wishes that he’d push those ridiculous tinted glasses back so that they could see the darkness of his eyes and whatever might be swimming in them. Face flushed with either drink or anger, the older man scoffs, pushing away his water. “I really don’t get you two. There were half-a-hundred other men and women in the quad who would have been happy to go home with you. Why the hell did you target me? Look, here’s some life advice: try to avoid picking up middle-aged men with as much baggage in their past as they have bags under their eyes.”

“Wait a minute—” says Steve firmly. Bucky can feel the tenseness in his form mirrored in his boyfriend’s body, a rising sense of alarm that the night is not turning out the way they had hoped. It happens sometimes: Bucky and Steve will pick up a person only for the night to end outside the bar. But judging by Steve’s clenched jaw and the way Bucky’s own heart pounds, this isn’t a situation they’ll be able to walk away from - not without shooting their shot properly.

But Tony makes a derisive noise to stop Steve before he can start. Reaching into his wallet, he takes out an obscene amount of cash to leave it on the table. “Please. No more. Thanks for trying to repair an old man’s pride.”

They watch his figure as he begins to shuffle his way through the crowd towards the exit.

“I don’t wanna let him go,” Bucky says. “Not right now, but not tomorrow morning, neither.”

“You really like him,” says Steve, more of a statement than any question. He takes a last drink of water before standing hastily. “Then we’d better not let him walk away without knowing.”

Outside, the air has a chill in it. People stream along the sidewalk wearing jackets to protect them from the beginning hints of the New England fall. Their height gives them an advantage as they search the crowd for a shorter head of dark, impossibly fluffy hair. Steve takes a firm grip of Bucky’s arm, pointing, whispering a breathless, there!

Bucky sees him. Tony has stopped the next building over and is leaning heavily against the brick wall, both hands rubbing at his face as if trying to wipe the remnants of sleep away. The people flooding in and out of the bar have disguised Bucky and Steve’s exit; they nearly make it to him unseen before he turns and begins to walk away back towards the university, when a knot of fear that’s tied itself deep in Bucky’s throat makes him call out, “Tony!”

Glancing over his shoulder, Tony’s face displays a complex series of emotions that Bucky can’t properly follow—but at least he doesn’t run. Stepping out of the crowd’s current, he lingers at the mouth of an alley while the two younger men catch up to him.

“I know I left enough cash,” Tony says tiredly.

“We aren’t here about the cash,” Steve says. “We really had a good time tonight, and we don’t want it to end. If you’d rather head home alone instead of with us, could we at least get your number?”

“My number?” Tony asks, eyes wide. He shoves his hands deep into his pockets. “What for?”

“To text you,” says Bucky. “To maybe set up another time to meet up whenever you’re back this way.”

“Come on, boys,” Tony murmurs, his voice nearly lost to the crowd. He looks at them with soft, sad eyes. “Come on. Let's just quit pretending.”

“Who’s pretending? What will prove it to you? You want me to beg? I offered it once before. I’m not above it.”

Neither of them can miss the way Tony’s throat bobs at the suggestion. Before anyone else can say a word, Steve’s hand is pressed to Bucky’s shoulder. When Bucky glances over, he sees the cool level gaze and immediately goes soft and spacey in the head (though hard everywhere else).

“Go on,” Steve says to Bucky. His voice is low and sure and goes straight to Bucky’s cock. “That’s what he wants. You want to give him what he wants, don’t you? Get down on your knees and beg him.”

“Steve,” Tony croaks.

The rest of his sentence is lost at the sound of Bucky’s knees connecting with the pavement. Tony looks good from down here, Bucky thinks dimly, looks good from every angle, but there’s something about being on his knees that makes Bucky see through different eyes.

“Please don’t be done with us,” Bucky begs through numb lips. Behind him, the raucous mill of the crowd melts into white noise. They’re only just inside the mouth of the alleyway. People would barely have to turn their heads to see them and the thought sets Bucky’s nerves on fire. “Please, give us a chance.”

A long breath comes out of Tony’s nose, jaw clenching and unclenching. His looks from Steve to Bucky again and again before he lets a tentative hand reach out and touch Bucky’s hair. Bucky’s eyes fall shut at the feeling. There’s a reason why he keeps his hair long. Mouth parting, he tilts his head into the older man’s touch.

“Jesus,” Tony breathes. “What am I going to do with you, kid?”

“There’s plenty you could do,” Steve offers. “But you don’t have to do anything at all, if you don’t want to.”

Then Tony is kneeling in front of him, shifting those tinted glasses until they rest in the impeccable cloud of his hair. He takes up all the space in the alley, all the space in Bucky’s vision, all the space in his brain.

“What about you, James?” Tony asks. “What do you want?”

Without any hesitation: “I wanna make you feel good.”

They kiss. There’s no preamble, no gentle exploration; Bucky and Tony are both masterful kissers after years of experience, and at the moment neither of them are sober enough to worry about finesse. Bucky takes Tony’s tongue into his own mouth and suckles, swallowing the way the older man groans. His facial hair abraids Bucky’s mouth and chin, the sting making him feel raw and hot all over. It’s one of the best kisses he’s ever had, and if it’s an omen of how the evening will progress, it’s a very fucking good one.

“Fuck,” Tony mutters, pulling back. His breath fans across Bucky’s face as he laughs, one hand coming to rest on the younger man’s shoulder. “I’m not twenty-five anymore; this kills my knees.”

Steve, who had nearly blended into the shadows while watching them with bated breath, helps Tony up, adding, “I guess Bucky and I will be the only ones on our knees tonight.”

Then it’s his turn to kiss Tony, tilting the older man’s chin upwards and cupping the back of his head with one broad palm. They are the antithesis of each other: one tall and broad, pale and blond. Bucky groans at the sight of his boyfriend’s jaws opening, the hint of hollowness in his cheeks as he licks into Tony’s mouth.

“God,” Steve mutters when he pulls back to catch his breath. “That whiskey tastes even better comin’ off of your tongue.”

“How close is your apartment?” Tony asks.

“Too far,” Steve says roughly. “Too far for me to not have my hands on you. Yes or no?”

“Yes. Yes, yes.”

The two of them coax Tony deeper into the alleyway, his boots echoing off the concrete. When they’re a safe enough distance from the prying eyes of the street, Steve leans with his back against one brick wall, pulling Tony’s back to rest against his chest while Bucky presses himself flush to the man’s front. There’s no hiding Bucky’s erection which presses into the soft cotton of the t-shirt beneath Tony’s jacket, and when Bucky shifts a thigh between the man’s legs, there’s no way to miss Tony’s erection either.

Tony sighs in pleasure as Bucky drags his thigh along his cock. When his head tilts back, Steve is there nuzzling into the side of his neck, scraping teeth along the sensitive skin.

“Fuck me, look at him, Steve,” Bucky pants. With hands firm on Tony’s hips, he tugs the shorter man up while angling his own hips down until the bulge of their cocks can drag against each other. “He’s so fuckin’ beautiful, isn’t he?”

“Like art,” Steve rumbles into Tony’s neck. “Wanna pin him up against the wall—”

“I think I can feel what you plan on pinning me with,” Tony breathes, arching his back.

“You think?” Steve asks, rutting his hips upwards. It punches a gasp from Tony’s mouth that Bucky swallows with his own.

Between them, Tony must feel like the pivot on a seesaw, dragged back and forth, both of them desperate for whatever part of his body they could touch. Steve splays a wide hand against Tony’s breastbone between his open jacket and drags his palm from one pec to the other, fingers taking one clothed nipple (hard and delicate as a glass bead where it pokes through his t-shirt) and working it over, tender and merciless.

In front of him, Bucky guides his hips so that Tony maintains a steady pace where their cocks are grinding together. He hasn’t cum in his pants since he was fifteen years old with his first girlfriend writhing against his lap, but he feels liable to repeat history tonight.

“You feel so good,” Bucky groans into the juncture of Tony’s neck. “Been thinking about this ever since I spotted you on the quad, even more at the bar. Every time you’d flirt with the waitress I’d almost pop a stiffie. Nobody’s got a right being as sexy as you are.”

“You’ve got it—ah!—wrong,” Tony pants. He’s wrapped his arms around Bucky’s neck, the fingers of one hand tangled and tugging at his hair. “Watching you and Steve roll around on that football field was like pornography. The hell do you think I had my jacket in my lap, for?”

Bucky barely manages to stifle an embarrassing sound in his throat. His balls feel tight and heavy, as if he’s been edging himself all day long. His jerking thrusts against Tony’s jeans begin to become sporadic as he chases that high. His sweatpants will be ruined—they probably already are, if he’s leaking like a faucet how he thinks he is—but all consequences and repercussions fade as the coil of heat in his gut winds itself tighter and tighter.

“‘M gonna cum,” he gasps, shivering when he hears the breath Tony sucks in at his words.

“You want that, Tony?” Steve asks. “You want him to cum or do you want him to wait? You get to decide tonight—”

“Steve,” Bucky says, voice strained. “Don’t make me stop, please don’t make me, he feels so good, Steve—”

“Stop him,” Tony gasps, though his own hips offer no help considering he arches them to rub the burning line of their cocks together. “Don’t let him cum.”

Steve reaches out to press firmly on Bucky’s chest until he stumbles back away from the warm cradle of Tony’s hips, an undignified noise slipping past his lips. From a distance, he’s treated to the incredible sight of them: Steve holding Tony flush against him, the way Tony’s eyes are dark and heavy-lidded, the obscene bulge in his denim and the way his entire body jerks when Steve thrusts his cock against the lush curve of Tony’s ass.

“Jesus, you all aren’t making it easy on me,” Bucky says, palming his eyes.

“Tony’s right,” Steve says firmly. “He deserves better than this. We need more room.”

“Apartment?” Tony wonders through swollen lips.

“Apartment. Let’s go, sugar, we’ll take a shortcut.”

What the hell am I doing? Tony wonders for the thousandth time that day as they walk briskly down alleys and jaywalk across streets. The thought replays in his head like a track on repeat. His own erection wanes quickly thanks to a heart condition and as a lovely perk of aging, but he hardly minds when he sees how ridiculous the two younger men look trying to hide their half-hard cocks while navigating the downtown area. Tony removes his jacket and offers it to Bucky who has a tell-tale patch of darkness where the head of his cock has rested. The sight makes his heart pound.

What the hell am I doing, he thinks again when the two of them pin him to the wall in the elevator of their apartment building, both of them grinding their respective erections into his hips while teasing the sensitive skin of his neck, hands creeping up under the hem of his t-shirt to trace his quivering stomach.

He feels infused with some sort of youthful madness. The three of them stumble out of the elevator with swollen mouths and tented pants and he feels young again. Even for just a moment while Steve takes the time to unlock their apartment door. Then the three of them are tumbling over the threshold and Tony remembers—right, he’s on the wrong side of forty.

“Goddamnit,” he hisses when his knee cracks against the doorframe. The twin expressions of horror on Bucky and Steve’s faces have his pained groan turning into laughter, even as Bucky leans down to wind one of Tony’s arms over his broad shoulders and help him to the couch.

“Jesus, you okay?” Bucky asks, kneeling down between Tony’s spread thighs and tenderly running his fingers over Tony’s clothed knee.

“Fine,” Tony laughs. “Still a little drunk.”

Bucky’s eyes flash upwards, pale, liquid heat. His fingers trail up, up, until they trace the seam at the crotch of Tony’s jeans. “Too drunk?”

“Not that drunk, kid,” Tony smirks. “Not by far.”

“Good,” Steve says from where he’s locking up the door. “Do you want Bucky to suck you off?”

The idea, spoken so casually as Steve pauses to rifle through the drawer of the foyer table, sends a bolt of electricity down Tony’s spine. He’ll never get used to it—that flippant way Steve speaks about Bucky, as if Bucky is just an item Steve feels welcomed to loan out. Sure, you can take him home, Tony. Just rewind him before you bring him back.

“I think he likes the thought of that,” Bucky says lowly, his mouth curving upward to hint at wickedness.

Steve stops, rustling papers falling silent as he glances over his shoulder at them. “Tony? What do you want?”

“I’m amenable,” he admits, far more breathlessly than he’d like.

“Then get to it, Bucky, I’m looking for our papers we got from the clinic.”

“Lookin’ in the wrong place,” Bucky teases. “On top of the ‘fridge.”

Then he leans forward and licks a broad line up over Tony’s denim-covered cock. It barely registers as pressure on his dick, but it’s the imagery that has the blood rushing from his head in a torrent so strong he feels dizzy. Bucky keeps his eyes cracked open, glittering as he takes Tony apart, laving him from outside his jeans, dragging the line of his teeth down the growing bulge to laugh at the sound that slips past the older man’s lips. He opens wide to mouth at Tony’s balls, the heat from his breath and tongue seeping through the denim.

“Finally,” Steve breathes, drawing Tony’s attention. He holds out two pieces of paper—how the hell he expects Tony to read given the lack of blood in his brain, Tony has no idea. “Bucky and I get tested regularly. Here’s our most recent screening, and we’ve only slept with each other since then.”

“I don’t have mine,” Tony says. His voice sounds strained from the effort it takes to keep his hips still and not fuck up into Bucky’s mouth. “Condoms okay?”

“More than fine,” Steve says. “God, look at you, Bucky. Makin’ a mess of him.”

“Get me something and I’ll blow him proper.”

Steve retrieves condoms while Bucky unfastens Tony’s jeans. He gets distracted by the sight of Tony’s cock straining against the fabric of his boxer briefs and leans forward to nuzzle against it. It takes all the breath from him. When was the last time Tony felt desirable? To have Bucky looking at him this way, refusing to withdraw his mouth from Tony for longer than a moment at a time—it fills up an empty, wounded part inside of him that he had avoided acknowledging in the first place.

“Finally,” Bucky breathes, snagging a condom up from where Steve drops them on the couch cushion beside Tony. Tony wants to mirror the sentiment, but his throat is shut tight while he watches Bucky tear open the condom with expert fingers.

Steve kneels down next to his boyfriend. One hand cups Bucky’s jaw and briefly turns his head so that their mouths can meet. If Tony thought he was breathless before, he knew differently now. It’s pornography in person, it’s erotica come to life watching both of these hopelessly attractive young men kiss each other so filthily, tongues flashing pink when they adjust the positions of their mouths.

The aching of Tony’s cock is painful. When he reaches down to rub the heel of his palm over it, it offers only the briefest reprieve, his eyes fluttering shut. Then Steve’s fingers wrap gently around his wrist and his eyes open to see the both of them watching him, flushed with swollen mouths.

“Sorry,” Steve rumbles. “We are easily distracted.”

“Then you’re among like-kind,” says Tony.

“May I?” Bucky asks, holding up the condom.

“Please.”

“Hips up, sugar,” Steve murmurs. There’s a fluttering of embarrassment at the endearment—in some ways Tony feels infantilized—but it’s been so long since he was called any sweet name (besides Peter’s fond, exasperated dad’s) that a larger part of him feels choked at the name. Swallowing hard, Tony shifts upward so that Steve can work the jeans and underwear down and off.

Bucky reels off a line of expletives at the sight of Tony’s cock: long, cut, flushed. It jerks under their gazes, the head slick and sticky. He can’t help but laugh under his breath at the expressions on their faces. The laughter ends when Bucky reaches out to trace his fingers up his shaft, thumbing at the sensitive skin beneath the head.

“You’re perfect,” says Bucky.

“It’s a cock.”

“Yours,” says Steve. “Is there anything about you that ain’t perfect?”

“I’m positive there is, but I really can’t think of them right now,” Tony says, thighs tense from the effort it takes to keep still under Bucky’s explorative touch. When a warm palm cups his balls, rolling them tenderly, feeling the heft of them, all semblance of language leaks from Tony’s ears.

“God, you need to cum, don’t ya?” Bucky asks. “It’s been too long, hasn’t it? Bet you don’t like to cum with your kid in the house, but he’s been hanging around night and day to spend time with you before he went away to school. Has there been nobody since your ex, Tony? It’s like you were saving it up for us. It’s okay, it’s okay, we’ll take care of you. Just how you deserve.”

With careful fingers, Bucky places the condom at the tip of Tony’s cock before rolling it down his aching shaft. Then Bucky is chasing the edge of the latex with his mouth, heat and pressure enveloping him. Tony makes a guttural sound, fingers scrabbling at the cushions of the sofa for purchase.

“Don’t be greedy, Buck,” Steve says. With a hand on the nape of Bucky’s neck, he coaxes his boyfriend back off of Tony’s cock so that he can lean forward and lap at it with his own tongue.

“Holy shit,” Tony slurs drunkenly. While Steve sucks on the head, Bucky places open-mouthed kisses along the shaft. They urge Tony’s thighs wider and wider so they can comfortably take turns rolling his balls in their palms, tugging softly, hurting him in the best way. It helps to keep his orgasm at bay, though he still feels it creeping over him. It centers in his lower gut, a liquid heat relocating to his balls.

“He’s getting close, Steve,” Bucky breathes, his lips brushing against Tony’s shaft. “His balls are drawin’ up. Feel—”

“God, you’re right.”

“Don’t want to cum yet,” pants Tony.

“Do you want us to stop?” Steve asks.

That idea is painful in a way Tony can't tolerate.

“No, just—” His hands release their death-grip on the sofa to bat their hands out of the way. Using one hand to press his cock towards the flat of his stomach, his other hands slaps at his heavy sac. Gasping in pain, he doubles over on instinct to protect his most sensitive parts while the pain lances bright and sharp through his gut. As he catches his breath, he feels how his erection has waned. Still hard, but not in the danger zone. Had he been any closer, the blow to his balls might have made him cum, no matter how bad it had hurt. Tony’s always been one of those people to enjoy pain with his pleasure.

“I don’t like that,” Bucky says, frowning as Tony uncurls and leans back to his original position. “Don’t hurt yourself. We coulda just put a ring on you—”

“Rings will only do so much,” Tony laughs, still trying to catch his breath. Then, with surprising diffidence, he mentions, “Sometimes, I like to be hurt.”

Steve groans, collapsing forward to rest on Tony’s thigh. Muffled, he says, “Don’t tell me that, Tony. Have mercy on me.”

“Steve’s a sadist,” Bucky admits, grinning. He leans forward and laps at the latex covering Tony’s cockhead.

Tony lets out a shaky breath through his nose. “Is that so?”

Steve lifts his head and pins Tony in place with the heat behind his gaze. “Can’t help it,” he says, voice rough. “I love...confusing people. Take Bucky for example: the first few spanks, he flinches away, right? Puts up a real fuss. But position him so his cock’ll only brush against my leg if he’s arching his back, and he’ll be thrusting out his ass for me to spank in no time at all. Work a person over with pleasure and pain and they’ll start cravin’ both.”

“Work me over enough so that it doesn’t hurt so fucking bad when you’re following too close at the grocery store and step on my heels, will you?” Bucky deadpans.

“You're doing too much talking,” Steve says. With a firm hand, he cups the back of Bucky’s head and coaxes him down until Tony’s cock bumps his cheek. “Go on, baby. Choke on him.”

Tony gives a groan that is mirrored (though muffled) by Bucky. That impossible heat and force of suction surrounds his cock as Bucky’s lips slide lower and lower, tongue working against the thickness as best as it can. When Tony’s cockhead brushes the firm back of his throat, Bucky’s dark eyelashes flutter shut. Steve is just as enraptured as Tony, watching with hooded eyes even as he presses down with more force on the back of Bucky’s head.

Bucky gags, the back of his throat spasming around the most sensitive part of Tony’s cock. Tony moans long and low, reaching out to brush away the stray strands of hair in the younger man’s face. Bucky’s eyes flutter open at the touch. The whites are flushing red, tears at the corners as he continues to gag and gag and gag, massaging Tony’s cock with his throat.

“He loves it,” Steve whispers over the wet, obscene sounds of Bucky choking.

“That true?” Tony grits out. “Do you love choking on cock, Bucky?”

Steve relents his grip so that Bucky can pull back, mouth wet and red and gasping for breath. “Your cock,” he says with a cracking voice. “Love choking on your cock, daddy.”

“Fuck,” Tony groans, legs shaking. “Don’t call me that, you shouldn’t call me that—”

“He shouldn’t call you that, or you shouldn’t like it?” Steve wonders.

“Both.”

“He loves it too,” Steve whispers. He’s the devil on Tony’s shoulder, feeding him everything he needs to hear to drag him deeper to sin. “Look at him. If you bent your leg and gave him your shoe to rub against, he’d cum quicker than you could blink. It’s the power imbalance. He’s getting off on it, so why can’t you?”

Bucky pulls back. His voice is throaty when he laughs and says, “Steve, I think you’re usin’ your mouth too much.”

The blond man laughs. “Yeah, maybe you’re right.”

Then both of their mouths are back on Tony’s cock, licking and sucking, making sure to run their lips over every last inch of him. Sometimes they are distracted enough to pull back and kiss for a moment, mouths swollen. Sometimes they refuse to part from Tony, instead lapping at each other’s mouths from around Tony’s cock. The heat in him builds slow like water turned from simmering to boiling. He reaches out and pets his hands through both of their hair, Bucky’s so fine and dark, Steve’s so thick and golden. When one of their thumbs drifts to the sensitive skin behind his balls and rubs in a slow, firm circle, all at once he feels like he’s vaporizing.

“I’m going to cum,” he warns.

Steve pulls off, nuzzling wetly at Bucky’s temple to say, “Go on baby, you’ve earned it. You finish him off.”

Instead, Bucky pulls off too, looking at Steve with mournful, sulky eyes. “I want his cum, Stephen.”

“Don’t talk to me, talk to him!”

Bucky turns that heated gaze on Tony instead. He looks absolutely debauched: face flushed, sweat gluing strands of dark hair to his pale temples, mouth red and swollen. Leaning forward, he drags his smooth cheek along Tony’s throbbing cock. “Why can’t I have it,” Bucky mutters with all the morose energy of a teenager. “Come on, daddy, lemme have your cum. I'd strip this condom off of you and drain you, suck you dry."

It’s, fuck—what, like it can’t tempt him? It does. He hasn’t cum in anyone’s mouth since Pepper (and as per her preferences, she’d then spit). He’s never had someone acting positively thirsty for his cum. It's a heady feeling, something he could get drunk off of, could get used to. But Tony was a young queer man during the AIDS crisis. He knows that safety matters more than the heat of the moment.

“You’ll take what I give you,” he says. “And I will give it to you, once we all know it’s safe and we can enjoy it properly. Now—be a good boy and, and suck daddy off.”

If Bucky notices that the words are stilted coming from Tony’s mouth, he doesn’t show it. A noise slips from his throat, raw and high and desperate, and then he is leaning forward and taking as much of Tony’s cock past his lips as he can, groaning wetly when it chokes him. Tony’s fingers tighten, pulling harshly at Bucky’s roots as the heat in his balls builds back to boiling point.

A warm hand reaches out to push Tony’s shirt up, baring the long line of his soft abs. He places his palm just beneath Tony’s navel just in time for the muscles there to clench up tight as Tony cums.

For a moment the pressure builds and builds, leaves him standing at the precipice and looking over the edge for so long that he thinks it might last forever. Then one firmer press of that thumb behind his balls snaps the tether that held him back from plummeting down. His entire body tenses as his balls draw up tight. No sound escapes until his cock finally begins to release its spend, and then the only sounds in the room are Bucky’s wet gags and Tony’s choked groans as one of the best orgasms of his life is wrung out of him. Maybe it’s a good thing he shoots into a condom instead of down the kid's throat, because it seems to last forever. Steve presses him firmly to the couch even as his body spasms in the throes of pleasure, a comforting weight.

“Jesus,” Tony whispers to the ceiling, body wracked with aftershocks.

“Did you hear that?” Bucky rasps letting Tony’s softening cock slip from his mouth. Tony blinks down at him, unsure if there was something he as supposed to hear—a knock on the door, the wet sounds of the best blowjob of his life—but then he realizes that Bucky is speaking to Steve. “He said he will give it to me. That means we’re not finished, right? There’s gonna be more between us, right Tony?”

Tony breathes out, his heart soft. Now that he’s cum, he feels the post-coital exhaustion coming over him. Christ, it must be late. The best way to spend his evening (if they’ll let him) would be to spend it pressed between their stacked, warm bodies.

“I’d like there to be more,” he admits. The blood returning to his brain brings back all of his doubts, his fears, his insecurities. What the hell is he doing, letting two young men take him home, letting two young men work their way into his heart like this? Surely it is doomed. But if there’s even the slightest chance of otherwise, then Tony feels obliged to follow it down, to see it through right to the end.

“We can take all this slow,” says Steve, the voice of reason. “Exchange numbers. See each other next time you’re in town to see Peter. See what happens.”

“I’m an exclusive kind of guy,” Tony admits. Realizing the irony of having such a conversation with his pants down, he works them back up over his hips, tying off the condom and depositing it in a trash can Steve produces from beneath one endtable. “Fifteen years of monogamy will do that to a man. If I’m talking with you two, I won’t be talking with anyone else.”

“That’s fair,” Bucky says, leaning his cheek against the denim of Tony’s jeans. One side of his mouth quirks upwards. “Besides, you’ll have your hands full with the two of us, anyway.”

“We’d extend that same courtesy,” Steve says, poking Bucky in the ribs. “Besides—I don’t think anyone is going to be peaking our interests. Not if they aren’t you.”

“That’s sappy.” And everything he’s ever wanted.

“It’s true, though.”

“Steve’s a big softie,” Bucky teases. Throwing his voice in a poor imitation of his boyfriend, he adds: “I’m Steve and my childhood asthma left me with a huge complex—I want to make you crave pain and then make you vegan pancakes in the morning.”

“That’s it—” Steve slaps Bucky upside the head. “No pancakes for you in the morning. None.”

“What about for me?” Tony wonders softly.

Steve’s smile, when he turns it on Tony, is bright as the sun. “For you? All the vegan pancakes.”

Bucky mutters something foul under his breath, and all at once Steve is towering over him, chest nearly pressed against Bucky’s shoulder, a solid disapproving wall of muscle. The brunet has to turn his face into Tony’s thigh to hide his smirk. Tony watches the display of dominance with raised brows.

“You’ve been pushing me all night, Buck, and I’ve just about had it.”

“Just about?” Bucky asks.

Steve’s eyes cut to Tony. “You said something earlier today, about the proper way to spank somebody. Care to show some pointers, daddy?”

Tony’s cock, spent as it is, gives a valiant jerk. At his feet, Bucky’s entire body shivers. He turns to look up at Tony, his eyes like molten silver with all the heat and desperation packed behind the irises. It’s been so long since he spanked anyone properly (or was spanked in return); surely it would take him a few swings to get back into the hang of things.

He has a feeling that Steve wouldn’t be the only one learning a thing or two tonight.

Clearing his throat, he says, “I think I can help with that.”

#stuckony #college!au #Insecure!tony #tw: alcohol #cagewrites

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