#weekend fucking sucked. on the other hand i do still want to go to grad school and i would never forgive myself if i let one (very small)

[gentlethorns]

lol i got decisions back from all four of my grad school apps and none of them were acceptances. i got waitlisted by one and outright denied by the other three. fuck man

[scuttle-buttle]

Chapter 2

Summary: Professor Laszlo Kreizler is a pretentious ass - that's the only way you could possibly explain the man. That being said, you needed a job to help pay for grad school, and the position of being his TA was the only thing available. You'll suck it up and deal with it, but the last thing you'll do is let this man get inside your head in the process.

WC: 1131

Rated: M

Chapter Tags: laszlo is very to the point with his expectations.

🧠

Monday morning came too quickly. There was no need to dress super professionally as a TA, but you still found that you wanted to at least look presentable on your first day with the devil himself. One less thing for him to judge you on, right?

The hall in the Psychology wing was quiet, only a few students could be seen shuffling to their early morning classes. A tall guy walked past you, offering up a pity-smile in your direction as he saw where you stood. If what you had seen on the professor over the weekend was any real indication, you felt bad for the psych majors. Even so, you would do your best to withhold judgement until you met the man.

You stood outside his office. The dark mahogany door was shut, a gold “Dr. L Kreizler” placard adorned the wood. Pulling out your phone you check the schedule for the tenth time this morning.

Schedule:

MWF 8am-12pm

TTH 3pm-7pm

You lick your lips and look at the clock on the wall - 7:59. The second the hands switch to 8 you knock on the heavy wood. There is a muffled “come in” from the other side.

You don’t know what you anticipated as you entered the office. Taking a minute, you examine the decor he has set up. It felt like walking through a time capsule; as though you were transported to the gilded age. Rich, dark colors of wood and tapestry filled the space. Large bookshelves had tomes that looked to be at least a hundred years old, well worn and rubbed off of their titles. Small artifacts, pictures, and old scientific instruments line the shelves. The room is massive, not something you would have anticipated. He does not use the fluorescent overhead lights, instead having a series of tall warm-toned lamps scattered around the room. There is even a couch along the back wall, decorated with swirling filigree carved into the arms and legs. A laptop and second monitor on his desk bring you back to reality.

In your admiration of the office you pay no mind to the man it belongs to. Finally, you notice him as he stares at you from his chair, looking annoyed at having to wait for your introduction.

Even with the less than pleased look he’s giving, you can’t help but notice how attractive the man is. The picture had done absolutely nothing to show off the depth in those brown eyes, the softness of the delicately styled hair, the fullness of his well-groomed beard. He was much younger than you anticipated too. If anything you figure he’s maybe early 40s. And fuck, he’s just your type. Too bad he’s an asshole… and your boss…. you think belatedly.

“Oh! Sorry, um, I’m the new TA,” you introduce yourself and tell him your name. “It’s very nice to meet you professor.” You reach out to shake his hand. He does not move to return the favor, but instead keeps his calculating eyes on you. The silence tics on as you wait, hand outstretched. Clearing your throat you drop it back to your side.

Finally, he speaks in an accented voice. “You may call me Dr. Kreizler. I have space for you there,” he gestures with a nod of his head to a desk in the corner. “I’ve taken the liberty of preparing a list of expectations for you. Should you have any questions or concerns I expect that you address them with me directly. You’ll note that I have included my personal number for work purposes only. I expect you to provide me with your own should I need you outside of contract hours. Do not contact me while you are intoxicated or you will be dismissed from this position.” To the point then, you blink at his directness. And presumptuous as hell to assume that you would even consider drunk texting him.

He briefly explains your role and clarifies some of the less detailed points on his list. The entire time he’s speaking his focus is on whatever work sits in front of him, not you. A beat passes once he’s done.

“Sounds great, thank you.” You had done your best to remain civil and polite, ignoring the ill-reviews in hopes to create your own opinion. Quite frankly, he wasn’t faring well so far.

He looks up at you; his eyes are piercing. Does he always look like he’s picking apart people like they are a specimen he’s studying?

“I suspect you have done your research on who I am, yet you are still present today. That is promising. But tell me, who are you?” he asks, sitting back in his chair.

You’ve never been good at talking about yourself when put on the spot. “Well I’m 26 years old, I graduated magna cum laude with a dual degree in history and political science. The last few years I’ve been working with the graduate studies program to get my doctorate in history. My thesis is on 1960s shifting cultural norms and the development and impact of countercultures on American society.”

“Have you considered the emerging role of sequence murderers in your studies?” He almost looks interested as he asks.

“Some, not as much as I would like yet, though. I suppose a perk of taking this position means you can give me some insight on that since you teach about it.” You give a little smile-shrug, hoping the statement will earn you some points with him.

He ignores it. “And what background in psychology do you have? Or do you even have any?”

You are a bit taken aback by his tone. “I took an introductory course with Professor Stratton during my undergrad years.”

“Hmm. That will have to suffice. In the meantime I would suggest you make haste with the reading I’ve left you. It’s best you spend this week with that so you can be most useful to me this semester.”

Looking through all the contents he’s left on your desk you see two books, a textbook, a few slide show print outs, and his syllabi - each marked up with his cursive and colored tabs to mark pages of importance. Sitting down, you give an inaudible sigh; this is going to be a long semester. You pick up the first syllabus and get to work.

Noon rolls around after what feels like a lifetime. Packing up all the materials he’s provided, you wish him a good afternoon. As you are walking through the door he calls out to you.

“Next time, do not be late.” You give him a confused look, seeing as you got there exactly at 8am. “On time is late,” he explains curtly.

“Noted.” You don’t catch the door as it all but slams closed.

Tag list

@hardlyinteresting @lorna-d-m @livvyshmiv @somethingthatsaysbubbles

[broadstbroskis]

the wedding date | morgan rielly

a/n: well first things first, i’m gonna give a shoutout to myself, because i started this fucking thing back in august and it’s finally completed (that’s right, it took me 7 months to write just under 5k, shhh, it finally came together). 

anyway, since i started this back in august, you can tell i’ve had this idea for a while. it’s morphed and changed a bit but the basic premise has stayed the same- you go home with morgan for a wedding and everyone thinks that you’re the girl he’s been dating for the last few years- so i hope you all enjoy! (also i’m sorry i suck at titles but like i’m not)

a special shoutout to these lovely people who have listened to me whine about this at any point over the last SEVEN MONTHS and some fellow mo lovers because you’re all amazing and i love you, @denis-scorianov, @brockadoodles, @danglesnipecelly, @laurenairay, @hockeyboysiguess

-----

When Morgan approaches you, with what you’ll later learn is only his first attempt to ask you something, you don’t even give him the chance, really. “Hey, what are you doing this summer?”

“Not you.” You quip back, grinning cheekily, ignoring the barks of laughter from Matthews and Marner beside him.

“Haha.” Morgan deadpans, but it’s busy that night at the bar, Saturday night after a Leafs win, and you’ve really got to get back to work now that you’ve finished serving them, so you’re already walking away from him.

The second time it happens is a Friday night, a few weeks later, when you’re out with some friends for the first time all semester. It’s late enough that you’re feeling just on the right side of tipsy, you’re drunk enough that you know you’re going to go home with the guy you shouldn’t, and you’re okay with both of those things. 

At least, tonight you are. Tomorrow morning will be a different story.

And then, Morgan stops you at the bar. “Hey.”

“Hey!” You grin back...and then it slowly fades as he just hems and haws. “What’s up?”

“I-” He blows out a frustrated groan.

Your eyebrows raise. You’ve known Morgan for years now, since his first season with Leafs had been right about when you started working at the bar for some extra cash after realizing just how expensive school was getting and grad school would be beyond that. You’re not sure you’ve ever seen him at such a loss for words. “Alright, well if you can’t think of it now, get back to me later, okay?”

“Wait-” He says, so you give him a minute or two, but there’s still nothing.

“Ok, I love you, but this is my one night out before my dissertation is due later this spring.” You tell him, reaching out for a hug. “You have my number and you know where to find me.”

“Ok.” Morgan smiles a little. “Have fun tonight.” And then you slink away from him, back in the direction of your friends, ready to let loose one last time before the craziness sets in.

The night that Morgan finally gets his question out is a quiet one in the middle of the week. He settles himself into the corner, doing his best to be discrete with a hat covering his face. By the time you and your coworker get everyone settled with drinks and you make your way over to him, he’s caught the attention of one older man, who immediately walks back to his girlfriend when you arrive at Morgan’s section of the bar.

“Well finally.” He’s free of all teammates, a rarity but not unheard of, especially this late in the season. “What’s a guy gotta do to get some service around here?”

“Oh sorry!” You tease. “Did I interrupt something here? Did you want me to call that guy back up so you guys could finish up?”

He flattens you with a look. “Don’t you dare.”

You giggle, leaning down against the bar in front of him. You know how much he loves the Toronto fanbase, but as playoffs approach, the fans are becoming more vocal and more forward with their thoughts. “You want another drink?”

He looks down at his glass, contemplates for a minute, and then nods, so you return quickly with a new beer for him and then smile as you watch him take a large gulp of it. “So what’s new?”

“Ehh loaded question.” He says cryptically. You give him a look. “But hey, you’re here on a Wednesday! You done with your...dissertation?” He trails off hesitantly, smiling at himself when you nod.

“Yup. I should know next week if I’m all clear.”

“And then?” He prompts.

“And then you can call me doctor, asshole.” You tease.

“I mean, Dr. Asshole isn’t what I would have gone with as my first choice, but if that’s what you want…”

“Morgan!” You laugh, ducking your head at the lame joke.

He’s grinning when you meet his eyes again, pleased as always that he could make someone laugh. “But seriously, that’s awesome! I’m excited for you.”

“Thanks.” You grin.

“What’s your next step then?”

“Umm I get to start researching infectious diseases for money.” You tell him excitedly, since you’d accepted a job with the University of Toronto’s medical research facilities. “But it doesn’t start until August.”

You’d expected Morgan to tease you about your excitement of infectious disease-something he and his teammates (among many other people you know) have done multiple times before-but instead, he perks up and says, “So you’d be free, on say, the weekend of July 8th?”

“Why?” You ask suspiciously. Experience has told you not to immediately say yes to this.

Morgan sighs. “Look. I need a date for a wedding back home that weekend.”

“And I’m the best you could come up with?”

“Best?” Morgan repeats. “You are funny, you’re pretty, you’re a doctor, all of which, frankly, puts you well out my league.”

“You’re not wrong.” You agree cheerfully, which puts the smile back on Morgan’s face, as you’d hoped. “But that doesn’t explain why you’d need a date to this wedding.”

The smile fades quickly and you wince. “I was supposed to go with Laura.”

You frown. “What happened to Laura?” Last you’d heard, the two of them were solid. Really solid. Headed for a wedding themselves, solid.

“She wasn’t who I thought she was.” He says flatly.

You wince. “I’m sorry, Mo.”

He shrugs. “It’s over and done with now.” You send him a reassuring smile. “So will you come?”

Well, there’s really no way you can say no now and not feel like an asshole. “Sure.”

The grin returns to his face. “Knew you’d come through for me.”

-----

Morgan rolls up to the airport in Vancouver to pick you up in a very fancy looking Jeep, a far cry from the sporty Porsche he drives in Toronto, and you call him out on it immediately. “I see how it is. You go home and you’re a fancy country boy, not a fancy city boy?”

He laughs. “Fuck off.”

“Gladly.” You tell him, grinning teasingly. “Drop me off at departures, will ya?”

His tone immediately turns serious. “Thank you. Seriously. Thanks for coming.”

Your smile remains on your face, still beaming over at him. “It was nothing, Mo.” It wasn’t, really, and you both know it. You’d quit your bar job a couple weeks early because of this, but you were happy to do this for him. He’d been down about Laura, down about being bounced from the playoffs again. This spring had been rough on him and you were more than happy to do your part to cheer up one of your closest friends.

Morgan hmms, in a way like he’s pretending to be casual about it, but he changes the subject as he switches lanes to pull onto the highway.

-----

Morgan has a whole itinerary for the next few days, prior to the wedding, but promises he’ll take you around to some of his favorite spots before you leave late next week. A quiet night tonight, dinner with his parents and brother tomorrow, and then the wedding stuff began the following day.

Much like his fancy Jeep, his fancy house in Vancouver is also nothing like the condo he owns in Toronto. You wouldn’t go so far as to say that his condo is...edgy, but it’s pretty modern? The house here in Vancouver is larger, sure, but reminds you a lot of the house you grew up in...or well, a larger and fancier version of it.

“Gonna give me a tour?” You turn to Morgan, who’s standing next to you almost awkwardly, as you look up at the beautiful house in front of you. Your bags are still in his hands, and you nudge his arm playfully, reaching for one, but he won’t let you grab it, smiling back at you as he starts to lead you in.

The inside is just as nice, and even though it’s clear that his mom and interior decorator have done a lot of work on it, there’s still a lot of Mo touches too. Each one makes you smile, the ones he points out in his tour and the ones that he doesn’t, until he finally leads you upstairs, dropping your things in one of the spare rooms. “Did I-“

“If the next words out of your mouth are say thank you, I’m walking out of this house.” You warn him.

“-ask what you want to do for dinner tonight?” Morgan finishes lamely and you laugh.

“That sushi place you always hype up?”

Morgan smiles. “Anything you want.” He says, and then, instead of the thank you that you know he wants to say, he pulls you in for a hug and squeezes tightly, before letting go. “Change and we’ll go?”

“Shower, change, and we’ll go.” You correct, dying to get the feel of airplane off you. “45 minutes.”

Morgan looks at you knowingly. “Sure, uh huh.” He says, nodding like he knows it’ll be much closer to an hour, an hour and fifteen, and you laugh, shoving at his shoulder before he makes you want to stretch it out to an hour and a half on purpose.

-----

Morgan’s parents might be the nicest people in the world, but they’re also a little...odd? Like, you’re not trying to be mean, because just like Morgan, they truly are the absolute sweetest, but, like, they just keep smiling at you with this knowing smile, like they know something that you don’t and it’s just...weird.

But they welcome you with open arms, when the two of you show up to dinner on your second night in town, hugging you just as tightly as they hug their own son, maybe even tighter than they hug the son who still lives in the same province as them. 

“We’re so excited to finally meet you!” Morgan’s mom gushes, once you get settled in their kitchen with a glass of wine, which at least explains the weirdness a little. “

“You guys too.” You admit. You’ve heard so much about them, his parents and brother, over the years of friendship with Morgan; it’s nice to finally put faces to names, to stories. “Thanks for having me tonight.” Next to you, Morgan nudges you, a grin on his face. You can practically hear him. Stop saying thank you, like you’ve been saying to him for the past day. 

“Oh stop!” She says, practically in time with his nudge. “Morgan tells us you’re a doctor now!” It’s said with pride, like you may as well be one of her own children who’s done something great.

“Yeah!” You smile, swirling the wine around a little, and then, because you don’t want there to be any confusion. “Not that kind of doctor; you should still call 911 if something happens.”

His dad laughs and his mom beams. “What kind of doctor then?” His dad asks, and you spend a while talking with his parents about epidemiology and your dissertation- his mom, it turns out, works in a similar field, and it isn’t long before the two of you are rolling your eyes about some research that just came out.

“What?” You ask Morgan, laughing, when your conversation breaks out, and she has to go check on dinner, at his dad’s request, before he burns it all entirely.

“I just forgot how excited you get about infectious diseases.”

“Can’t believe you’ve been out here this whole time knowing that your mom and I both exist and haven’t introduced us.” You announce. “The rudeness, the hearsay.”

“I don’t think that’s how that word’s used.” Morgan cackles.

“Oh, sorry, are you a doctor?”

“That doesn’t have anything to do with knowing how that word is used!” He protests, laughing.

You ignore him. “If you even think of keeping her from me when they come to Toronto…”

He wraps his arm around your shoulders and squeezes. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

-----

“Are you ready yet?” Morgan calls, and you take one last look in the mirror on the wall, smoothing the pleats in your dress. “We’re going to be late!”

“But it’s gonna be worth it!” You sing-song as you descend the stairs to meet him in the living room.

“Is it ev-” He cuts off abruptly, eyes wide and swallowing visibly as he cuts off. “Wow, okay then.”

“Worth it.” You wink at him, brushing past him to grab your purse. 

Morgan’s laughing as he picks up his keys, this soft and gentle thing that you can’t help but smile at. “Yeah, I should’ve known it would be.”

“You’ll know better for tomorrow!” You tease, and breeze past him to get in the car.

The ride to his cousin’s rehearsal dinner isn’t far, spent mostly laughing as you keep switching the station from anything Morgan changes it back to. By the time you arrive at the restaurant, you’re both giggling as you enter, flagged down almost immediately by Morgan’s mom.

“Look at you two!” She gushes.

“Mom.” Morgan says dryly. “Come on.”

She smiles at him indulgently. “Make sure you say hi to your cousin.” 

“Yeah, of course.” Morgan nods, grabbing your hand to pull you away. “Just after we hit the bar.” He mutters and you giggle.

His cousin, the bride, and her husband-to-be seem to have the same idea, and it’s just as you’re turning away, wine glasses in hand, that you nearly run into them.

“Oh!” Ashley beams excitedly, once Morgan introduces you. “Hi!”

“Congratulations!” You return the excitement. She’s so bubbly and bright; it’s easy to do, even though you don’t know her. “You guys look so great tonight; you’re going blow us all away tomorrow.”

“She’s going to blow me away tomorrow.” Dylan jokes, but you can tell by the twinkle in his eye that he’s entirely serious.

“Oh stop.” Ashley knocks his arm. “And you too,” She gestures at you. “You look amazing! How’d you do your hair like that?”

“This?” She nods and you walk her through it quickly; it’s a look that’s so much more simple than it looks and she’s gasping by the time you’re done. 

“Ok, mhmm.” She nods. “I’m getting your number from Morgan later so you can go over that with me again because I’m definitely going to forget.”

Morgan flicks a piece of your hair. “It’s a hairstyle, what could you possibly forget?”

You and Ashley exchange a look. “I got you.” You reassure her as you both laugh at him.

“Men, honestly.” She shakes her head, as Morgan and Dylan protest, but then before you and Ashley can talk any more, she and Dylan are being called away, and there’s promises for you all to catch up tomorrow at the wedding.

“You can’t have her phone number unless you promise not to talk about me.” Morgan says.

“Fat chance.” You tell him. “But nice try.”

From there, you start making your way back to his parents, stopping off to chat quickly with relatives he recognizes (and once, ducking purposefully into a small crowd to avoid an aunt he doesn’t want to see). You feel like it shouldn’t be surprising how nice his family is, given how genuine Morgan is, but each person you meet welcomes you so warmly, with kind words and open arms. 

“You must talk about me a lot.” You tease, as you two start making your way to your table.

Morgan shrugs. “More than I’d realized apparently.” You cackle and he laughs; it’s familiar and easy, but then you’re easily distracted by the appetizers coming to the table and fighting Morgan for extra of your favorites-also familiar and easy.

-----

It’s another morning of Morgan waiting impatiently for you, being rewarded with his gaping jaw dropped, and teasing him the entire ride to the wedding, before he easily gets his revenge when you tear up at the ceremony.

“You don’t even know these people!” He nudges you forward toward his cousin in the reception line right after the ceremony. “And you’re going to cry like that?”

“It was a beautiful ceremony!” You defend. You’d been right yesterday; Ashley had easily blown everyone away from the moment she’d entered the room. Their vows were incredible; you didn’t understand how anyone wasn’t crying.

Morgan snickers, nudging you forward again. “God, what do you do at weddings you actually know the people at?” He pauses as you both step closer another, like the idea has just come to him. “Oh man, what are going to do at your own wedding?”

“Bawl my eyes out, obviously.” You say dryly. “Tell my future husband to bring tissues.” You move up, next in line for Ashley and Dylan. “You clearly didn’t get the message.”

“What’d you do?” Ashley pokes him; you guess whoever was in front of you was a guest she didn’t know all that well because they’ve moved along pretty quickly.

“Me? I’d never.” Morgan says innocently, ducking down to kiss her cheek.

“I’m just giving him a hard time.” You agree and she grins, shocking you when she pulls you in for a hug. 

“He probably deserves it.” She says cheerfully.

“Wow, I see family loyalty goes a long way here, huh.” Morgan deadpans.

Ashley gives him a look. “Not for much longer, I guess, though?” She nudges him.

“Oh I see how it is, you’ve been married for all of five minutes and suddenly Dylan’s family is better than ours?” Morgan teases.

Ashley blinks. “That is...not how I meant that at all.” She says, but before she can say anything else to you, the couple behind the two of you starts sighing impatiently, and you all realize how long you’ve been talking for. You quickly congratulate her and then move along to Dylan as well, before stepping out of line and moving towards the reception area.

The bridal party was quick to get the reception started after the ceremony, so when you and Morgan make your way over, there’s already a decent sized group chatting and drinking. You both grab drinks from the bar and make your way to a group of his cousins, chatting for a while and laughing along as they’re sure to include you in all of their jokes.

When it comes time to start making your way to your table for dinner, you excuse yourself to the bathroom quickly, running into Morgan’s grandmother when you’re there, who had the same idea as you it seems.

She lights up when she sees you fixing your hair in the mirror, stepping up to wash her hands. “It looks great.” She assures you and you smile, thanking her. “Are you having a good time?”

You nod, following her out so the two of you can make your way back to the reception. “Such a good time! Everyone’s been amazing and Ashley and Dylan are beautiful; it’s been a great weekend!”

“It’ll be great to be all be here again,” Morgan’s grandmother smiles at you and you return it politely. “Next summer.” She adds, like an afterthought, and you shrug. She’d know better than you what the upcoming engagements look like. You can barely remember the names of the people you’re seated with tonight.

“If Morgan brings me back then.” You throw her a finger gun and she laughs-loudly.

“Oh, you’re a trip!” She nudges you gently, laughing. “Such a doll. Let’s get another glass of wine together before we go back, shall we?”

“I will never say no to that.” You’re pretty sure you still have a couple minutes to spare before you need to sit down. 

His grandmother links arms with you. “My kinda gal.” She beams and her smile is contagious, just like Morgan’s is when he’s really happy, so it’s not hard to grin along with her as she tugs you along for another glass of rosé.

-----

The evening’s winding down- the wedding long over and the after party beginning to do so as well. Almost all of the older relatives have made their way home or to their hotel rooms but there’s a few sloppy cousins and friends still going hard (you’ve got some serious concerns how the one groomsman is even going to make it upstairs). Ashley and Dylan keep stealing glances at each other, like they’re wondering if it’s late enough for them to sneak away yet, but each time they look like they’re going to, someone calls for another toast.

Morgan nudges you. “Hey.” He reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a couple cigars. “Outside with me?”

You think about it for a second. Usually, you love a good cigar-and you’re sure that Morgan’s managed to acquire a good one- but tonight? “Not really in the mood, but I’ll come out.”

He grins, a little crooked, and offers his hand to help you up from the couch the two of you have been sitting on. Outside, the weather is beautiful, one of those crystal clear nights with a light breeze where you feel like you could be outside for hours. He lights the cigar while you continue to sip at your wine, the two of you standing in comfortable silence, until the door opens again.

“Cigars without me?” His brother grumbles. “I see how it is now.”

“Yup, just left you behind on purpose.” Morgan says shamelessly, but he’s already pulling the spare out of his pocket and handing it over.

“Unsurprising.”

“Yeah?” Morgan asks, amusedly. “Why’s that?” 

His brother gives him a look, and then, when Morgan doesn’t react, looks over at you, but you just shrug. “Just promise you won’t forget about me once you pop the question.”

You choke on your drink; Morgan looks just as shocked, the cigar halfway to his mouth. “What?” He says finally.

For the first time, his brother looks unsure. “I think...we all just thought...once you brought her home, that was the only thing holding you back?”

“Oh my god.” Morgan says breathlessly.

“I’m not-” You add helplessly. “We’re not-”

“Oh.” His brother winces. “Wait, so you’re not…” He trails off and the silence between the three of you becomes so thick it’s almost palpable. You don’t know what to do, what to say. What he even means. “You’re not together?” He says finally, sounding like he’d rather be anywhere else, doing anything else.

You can relate. You shake your head slowly, notice Morgan’s doing the same out of the corner of your eye.

“Um.” His brother continues. “And-and you haven’t been-together?” Another head shake. “Wow. A lot of people are going to be very disappointed.”

“A lot of people?” Morgan repeats. “Who...who all thinks this?” But you don’t need an answer to know and apparently, he doesn’t either. The silence thickens somehow; you didn’t think it was possible. 

“Um.” His brother’s already backing away, even as he speaks. “I’m gonna go now. Before I say anything else to make this worse.”

He’s gone before you can tell him you’re not sure that’s possible, leaving you and Morgan in the loudest silence you’ve ever experienced. 

It’s abundantly clear Morgan feels it too, from the way he won’t even meet your eyes, will barely even look at you, actually. And there’s so much to say here, but well, “You never brought Laura to meet your family? Never let them meet her at home?” Apparently, they really weren’t as serious as you’d thought.

Morgan laughs hollowly, finally meeting your eyes. “That probably should have been a clue, huh?”

“A little bit of a red flag.” You agree. It’d been how many years? Morgan’s tight with his family, that much you knew before you’d come out here and only became clearer as you met them. “Why...why didn’t you ever introduce them?”

Morgan sighs. “I think-I always knew something wasn’t right. And I just didn’t want to admit it?” He sighs again. “I shouldn’t have brought you into this.”

“You didn’t know.” You tell him gently. “And I wanted to come.” You remind him. “I was happy to!” You pause for a second. “I was happy to come across the country to a wedding with you and your family with barely a second thought. So maybe we both need to re-examine what happened here this weekend.”

“Maybe we don’t.” Morgan says simply.

“What?” You frown, confused.

“You were happy to fly across the country for a wedding with me and my family.” Morgan repeats, with a small smile on his face. “And then you come here and meet my entire family, and they think I’m ready to propose to you, because you're the girl they hear me talk about all the time.” Your jaw drops-is he saying...what you think he’s saying-and his smile grows into a grin. “I think this thing between us has been more than either of us have been able to admit because we’ve had other things going on- school or hockey or-”

“Other girlfriends?” You supply teasingly, when he trails off, like he’s afraid to mention her name.

He nods. “There’ve been other boyfriends, too.” He nudges you, just as teasing.

“There have.” You admit, because it’s not a lie, but none of them have ever worked out, for a variety of reasons, but you can’t help but think, that now that he’s mentioning it, Morgan might have been a part of those other reasons.

He’s back to smiling again when he continues, leaning against you slightly. “I think we owe it to ourselves to see what we could be.”

You lean back against him. “You do, do you?”

“I do.” He nods.

“Little early for that, don’t you think?” It takes a second for your joke to land, but once it does, he cracks up and it brings a smile to your face. 

“We are at a wedding.” He grins, nudging you playfully. “Who knows, maybe someday it’ll be ours?”

-----

a bit in the future

It’s one of those beautiful sunny days where the sun is shining with a light breeze where you feel like you could be outside for hours. 

Unfortunately, you’ve got a huge project due at the end of the week, so while Morgan’s been enjoying the lake all day, you’ve been sitting at a table on the dock, staring at your laptop, tapping away at your keyboard, and ignoring his increasingly annoying calls for attention.

It’s harder to ignore when he comes up next to you, wrapping his wet arms around your shoulders. “Morgan.” You try to shake him off. “Come on, gimme like ten minutes and then I’ll come in.”

“Promise?” He asks.

“Yes.” You say because if you can get this one last thing done you’ll be ahead of your goal for the day.

It works; Morgan sits down next to you quietly, scrolling through his phone for a bit, and then, jumps up and runs inside the cabin, and you jump on the opportunity of quiet to get ahead even further, losing yourself in your next bit of project.

“Hey,” Morgan says casually, and it scares you a bit, his return far quieter than he’s been all day. “What are you doing the weekend of July 8th?”

“I don’t know, that’s like a year away!.” You snap, turning to tell him to stop annoying you, only for your jaw to drop when you see him down on one knee.

“Want to get married then?” He says, a twinkle in his eye and a grin on his face, like he’s been waiting for this reaction, like it was everything and more.

“Oh my god! Are you serious?” He slips his hand into his pocket and pulls out a ring; you gasp. “Morgan!”

“Will you marry me?”

“Yes, oh my god, yes!” Your computer long forgotten in the face of an engagement ring, you throw yourself at Morgan, who catches you easily, like he was prepared for this. He probably was. He knows you better than anyone; he’s your best friend and so much more. He barely manages to slip the ring on your finger before you’re kissing him. “I love you!”

“I love you, too.” He grins. “Are you sure you’re ready to take this jump with me?”

“Of course!” You beam, but it hits you just a minute too late. He’s already jumping in the water. “You’re the worst.” You sputter out at him, purposefully spitting lake water at his face. 

He doesn’t even look like he minds. “For better or worse.” He grins.

“That’s not what that’s referring to!” You splash him and he splashes back but before it can devolve into a full on splash attack, he’s pulling you into his arms.

“I mean it though.” He says, kissing you again. “And I’ll tell you again, next summer, at our wedding.”

Our wedding. The words sound almost unreal, too good to be true. “I’ll be the one in white.” You promise. “Or, well, maybe ivory.” You say and it’s hard to kiss Morgan then when he’s laughing so hard.

[melk917]

For Jackson's NSFW alphabet, what about F, I, K, and Q?

Yesss we all need more of this soft, sort of asshole-ish professor who I would totally have tried to seduce from the front row of his lectures.

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)

Anything face to face. He’ll posture and be all arrogant charm when he’s flirting and as part of the chase, but he really is a softy under it all, and loves the intimacy of being close and being able to kiss you and watch your face as you come. He wants to feel you against him, your skin, how you’ll gasp and moan into his mouth, and how you’ll shudder and shake against him, clutching at his arms, his back, his ass, head thrown back when you come.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

He’s a strange mix of arrogance and super soft. The arrogance partially comes from being secure in who he is at this point, after fighting for it and overcoming the expectations of others his whole life (his parents, the seminary, his ex-wife). It also comes from a love of being admired.

But he’s actually super soft under it all. His love of being admired goes both ways, he wants to show you how much he admires & worships you too. He loves to spend time one on one, romantic evenings at home, or weekend getaways, dinners out. Low light, just the two of you.

When you start to get more physical, he’ll be mostly smiles against your lips, cupping your face in his hands, stroking his thumbs over your cheekbones. Pulling you against him so he can get his hands all over you to stroke and cup and run his fingers all over you. He’ll bury his face in your neck to breathe you in, sucking marks into the delicate skin over your pulse as you rock together towards completion.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Two big ones that are pretty intertwined in that they both deal with power plays...professor/student & priest kink.

He loves to play teacher, no matter the topic. If you play up that you want him to share his knowledge on something, or show you some piece of research, he’ll lean in close, voice getting low as he whispers in your ear to explain things.

You can totally play up the whole “PILF” thing to get him hot and bothered. Show up in his office and lock the door behind you? Tell him you’d do anything to improve your grade? Oh, he’ll have you spread out over his desk moaning and seeing stars. Or even better, crawl under his desk and take his cock in your mouth for “extra credit.” If you are one of his grad students? Well, he hates to admit it, but he does get off on the actual power imbalance. And you can drive him to absolute distraction when he lectures, sitting in the front row, mouthing suggestively at the straw in your iced coffee.

Ah the priest kink goes back to his days in seminary (see D for more details). Needless to say, he can’t hear the phrase “forgive me, Father, for I have sinned” without flushing a pretty pink and getting half hard.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

Loves a campus quickie. His office? The library? His classroom once or twice?

He loves how you’ll gasp and clutch at him, begging him to go harder, faster. Loves how you look, head thrown back against the books in his office or the stacks, clutching at the shelf and his hair as works you over with his mouth.

It drives him to utter distraction when he remembers the sight of you spread out over his desk, messing up all his papers, flushed and panting.

And it’ll cause him to lose his train of thought when lecturing when he remembers the sight of you bent over the table in the classroom, ass in the air, as he takes you fast and hard, your moans filling the room even as he tries to keep you quiet with a hand over your mouth.

He loves when you’ll slide your hands up the back of his shirt as he fucks you in his office, scratching your nails down his back and leaving trails of fire that he can still feel later when he’s lecturing. It makes him smug and keeps him half hard until he can get home to you later and take you long and slow, working you over until you’re begging.

[starryeyes-darkestnights]

Show Must Go On

Part 6 of We Dance Together Now

An O’Knutzy au where Leo and Logan are still playing for the Lions, but Finn is a musician/grad student they met by chance on a roadie in Montreal.

Read Part 5 here: 

Part 5 - Gold Rush

I also stuck this up on AO3, my username there is the same :)

As always, these beautiful characters and their world belong to the incredible @lumosinlove ! Her work is amazing, and I’m so happy to get to play with some of the people and places she’s created <3

The songs I referenced in here are Show Must Go On- Queen (briefly), I Wanna Dance With Somebody- Whitney Houston, and Ocean Eyes- Billie Eilish. 

I hope you like it!!!

@sunflowerfox87 thanks for requesting to be tagged in updates! :)

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

Logan

Logan stood nervously in front of the door to Finn and Leo’s apartment, wishing for the hundredth time that day that he hadn’t given in to Leo’s badgering to come by before Finn’s show tonight.

He was not looking forward to dealing with the consequences of his spiral last night. But he also didn’t want things to stay messed up between them, the way they had been that morning.

What he did want, was to pretend the whole thing had never happened. So, he’d spent his day searching for reasons to delay coming over, prolonging the amount of time he could spend not dealing with it.

But eventually he had run out of excuses, so now he was here. He could hear laughter coming from inside. That seemed like a good sign. He reached up and knocked before he could talk himself out of it, listening to the familiar sound of footsteps crossing the entryway.

Then Leo was there, smiling and holding open the door, still in the sweats he wore home from practise.

“Hey Tremz, come on in.”

Logan never been good at faking smiles, so he just nodded down at Leo’s legs, “Nice pants. You should have told me it was dress-down day at the Burrow.”

Leo just gave him a sarcastic look. “Ha ha. Very funny. I’m on my way to get changed now. Finn’s in the kitchen. Eat something if you’re hungry. I’ll be right back.”

He seemed like his usual self. That made Logan feel a bit better. Maybe he’d overreacted. Maybe everything was fine.

Leo left for his room, and Logan headed over to where Finn was finishing up the dishes in the kitchen.

“Hey, Fish.” He took a seat at the island, hoping he sounded normal too.

Finn turned at the greeting, his face lighting up when he caught sight of Logan.

“Lo! Hey. You’re here. How were the kids?”

Part of Logan’s procrastination that afternoon had involved volunteering to spend several hours playing a pickup game with the Dumais kids and their friends at the outdoor rink near their house- something he liked, but certainly wouldn’t have brushed off Leo and Finn for any other day.

“They’re good. Katie’s getting pretty cocky on the ice. I think she’s gonna end up as a captain one day.”

“Ah. Good for her.”

“Yeah.”

An awkward silence fell. Finn fidgeted with a dish towel, smiling nervously at him. Finn was never nervous.

Ok, so things were definitely not fine. Logan felt guilty as he remembered the laughter he had heard through the door. He didn’t want to be the cause of another ruined evening.

Leo reappeared at the other end of the kitchen island. “Do you want a drink, Tremz?”

“I’m sorry.” Logan blurted out.

Leo and Finn both looked surprised at his apology.

“Sorry… for what, exactly?” asked Leo, looking confused.

Logan was already regretting saying anything. But he was committed now. “Uh… for this morning. And last night, I guess. I was in a weird ass mood, and I didn’t mean to be weird to you guys too. I’m good now, though, so Finn, you can stop being all nervous around me. I don’t want to fuck up the evening. This is stupid.”

Finn jumped in to reassure him. “What? No, Logan, no, we were all weird this morning, don’t worry about that. That’s not what…”

He stopped suddenly, and shot a glance at Leo, looking even more nervous than he had a few moments before. Leo nodded back, subtly, but Logan caught it.

Now he was confused. What the hell was that?

He watched as Finn took the few steps around the island to stand next to Leo, who was looking at Logan with careful eyes.

“Tremz, we wanted to talk to you about something, if that’s ok?”

It was an innocuous question, but something in Leo’s voice put Logan on hyper alert. He jerked his attention to Finn, who was looking nervously up at Leo. He felt a chill go straight through his chest and settle in the pit of his stomach.

Oh.

He forced his eyes down to where their fingers were touching on the countertop.

Shit.

He stood up quickly, his chair screeching loudly as it slid back on the tiles. He couldn’t look away from their hands.

Leo followed his gaze down and yanked his arm back toward himself. “Lo…”

“Non.” He interrupted, “Non. Désolé. It’s good. That’s good, I- I am happy for you guys.” He swung his eyes wildly around the room, looking for an escape. He needed to leave, to get out, but Leo and Finn were standing between him and the front door.

He backed up a few steps, nearly tripping on the chair he didn’t remember knocking over as he remembered the balcony door. He grabbed for it, yanking it open and rushing out, sliding it closed behind himself.

He slid down the wall next to the door. Out of sight. Déjà vu. Just like that morning.

He was dizzy.

Breathe, Logan. He sucked in the fresh air. Once. Twice. Three times.

He tried to let the evening breeze calm him. He was making this into a scene again. He needed to pull it together before it became a thing.

He tried to reason with himself. You saw this coming. You know how well they fit together. You’ve suspected it since Ilvermorny.

He had even thought he would be ok with it.

He hadn’t known it would feel like this, though.

Just get it together. Make it through the night. That’s all you have to do. You can do it.

He gave himself to the count of 5 to compose himself, and then stood and slid the door back open. He stayed where he was, though, and waited for them to join him. He could do this, but he couldn’t do it inside, where he couldn’t breathe.

When Leo and Finn came, neither of them stood between him and the door, and Logan was grateful.

“Lo…” Leo’s voice was hesitant. “You didn’t let us finish.”

“Oui, je sais, I’m sorry, I was just surprised.” He plastered a smile on his face. “But, uh, congratulations?”

Finn shook his head. “That’s not really what we wanted to talk to you about. Or, I mean, it is, but that’s not all of it.”

It seemed to Logan like that first bombshell was more than enough information for the day, but he didn’t want to make this worse, so he went along with it anyway. “Ok. What else?”

Leo took back over, speaking slowly, like he was considering each word before he said it. “So… this afternoon, Finn and I talked, and we realized that maybe this—” He gestured between the three of them. “Us. Isn’t what we thought it was.”

Logan wasn’t following. Finn noticed and tried to explain.

“I told Leo, or, well, I guess I didn’t tell him, I kind of just sang at him, but it mostly got the point across, and—”

“Finn.” Leo cut him off, gently.  

Finn flushed. “Right. Sorry. The point,” his voice softened, “is that I made him aware that the feelings I had for him were more than just friendship. Which you figured out. But we also talked about the fact that… well, we know you feel the same way about him too.”

Finn’s voice was gentle, cautious but his words cut through Logan anyway. He felt the panic start to rise again. Fuck.

“What are you talking about?” Logan knew his words were sharper than they needed to be, but he couldn’t bring himself to temper them.

“Logan, it’s ok. I promise. That’s how I feel about you too.” Leo rushed, all of his previous caution gone. “And it’s how I feel about Finn, and I also know that’s how you feel about Finn. I’ve seen the way you two look at each other, and I’ve been looking at you both the same way. You just didn’t notice. None of us noticed.”

Logan was frozen in place, his eyes zigzagging wildly between the two men standing across from him.

They knew. They knew.

“What the fuck?”

He couldn’t deny it. He didn’t know if he wanted to deny it.

“Leo. Finn. What the fuck??”

Finn took a step forward, wide brown eyes completely unguarded as they locked onto Logan’s. His vulnerability sent Logan’s heart spinning. “We wanted to talk to you. We wanted to see if you wanted this too. If there was a way, if there was any way, that we could make this work. All of us. Do you think there could be?”

All of us. Logan hadn’t known that was a thing that could happen. But now that the idea was in front of him, it felt right. Like it had been right all along. His heart soared. Of course he wanted it too. With every fibre of his being, he wanted it. They liked him. They wanted him.

He could never have them.

Reality came crashing down around him.

He forced himself to answer Finn’s question.

“It doesn’t matter what I want, Finn. I can’t—” He looked at Leo. He would understand. “Leo. It can’t work out like this.”

“It can, Logan. As long as we are all on the same page, it can.”

Leo didn’t understand. Suddenly Logan felt very alone. His temper flared.

“You know it’s not that easy, Leo.” He snapped. “It doesn’t work like that! It can’t work like that. We are in the NHL, Nut! The NHL. We’ve worked our whole lives for this, and you’ve seen how people are. Look at what happened to Cap!”

Leo hadn’t been there at All-Stars after everything that happened to Sirius and Loops. He didn’t see how bad it got, how many phone calls Sirius had to take from Coach, how scared he was that entire weekend. Logan had taken his phone and deleted every social media app he had, but he had still been bombarded with hate from hockey fans and, worse, from people within the league itself.

Leo’s voice was firmer now. “Exactly, Logan. Look at Sirius. At his example. He is our captain. He is our gay captain, who is still very much playing in the NHL. And not just playing. He’s leading the league.”

“That is the POINT, Nut! He is the captain. He is arguably the best player in the league right now. And there were still that many people trying to kick him out! This is my second season. You’re a rookie. Do you really think people are going to go to bat for us like they did for him? For the two newest, youngest players on the team? We are expendable!”

He had thought about this. About the impossibility of it all. From the moment he had recognized his feelings for Leo, he had known it would never work.

He waited for Leo to get it now, to agree. But instead, Leo just moved to lean against the wall next to him, keeping a few feet between them. His voice was gentle when he replied.

“Yes, Logan. I do think they would go to bat for us. I know Sirius would. Coach would. Alice would. I’m not saying we should do anything publicly, but behind the scenes, you know that they would work to help protect us in the case that anything ever came out in the future.”

He shifted, turning so that he could look Logan in the eye for what he said next. “It was never going to be easy for people like us, Tremz. I’m terrified too. I never meant to be in this position either, but we are, and… what happened with Sirius…” He shook his head, his gaze dropping. It was still hard for him to think about too, Logan realized. “…what happened with Sirius showed us that the people who matter, the people we need to have our backs, will. We are allowed to live, Logan.”

Logan had never wanted something to be true so badly. He ran over Leo’s words in his mind. We are allowed to live.

“I don’t want to lie, Leo. I don’t want to hide. That’s not who I am.”

“We don’t have to. We can tell the people who matter, Lo. It’s nobody else’s business. It’s only about what makes us comfortable. What makes us happy. Neither of us are ever going to push you into anything you don’t want, or that you aren’t ready for. I just don’t ever want you to think that you can’t have what will make you happy. You deserve to be happy. Whether it’s with us or not.”

Logan listened to the kindness in Leo’s voice, and felt the fight drain out of him. He was so tired of constantly battling against himself. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. That fire that always burned inside him had fizzled out, leaving him with nothing but the feelings he had been trying to push away for months. Feelings for the two people who were standing right in front of him, right now, telling him that they wanted him too. That he could have them, too. That he could have this, and his career, and it could work.

He wanted to believe it.

He looked up at Leo, beside him. At Finn, standing quietly across from him. He tried to imagine walking away from them right now. It made him feel sick.

Finn spoke into the silence. “Logan, I can’t pretend to understand what your job is like. And I won’t try. But I do need you to know that I am here, and I’m not going anywhere, no matter what you decide to do. I’ll always be here, in whatever capacity you need.”

Logan’s throat tightened at Finn’s words and suddenly he knew that he was done. It was over. He was going to trust them. Relief flooded through him as he accepted it.

He didn’t want to talk anymore, but he knew they needed to hear him say it. So he pulled together as much composure as he could and tried his best.

“I didn’t want to want you. I tried so hard not to want you. I told myself so many times that I could do it, that I could keep my feelings under control.” His voice was shaky. He looked at Leo. At Finn. “But you took over everything. Everything.”

He breathed out the next words as he felt himself moving closer to Finn. “I don’t want to fight it anymore. I can’t- I just want—” He hoped they could understand what he was trying to say.

It seemed that they did, because suddenly they were both right in front of him, and one of his hands was behind Finn’s neck, and the other was desperately reaching out for Leo and finally- finally- he stopped fighting against himself.

He pulled Finn to him, and then Finn’s lips were on his lips, and Leo’s were on his jaw, and all of his senses were lit up like a lightning storm. In that moment, his entire world was just that apartment, that balcony, those boys. He let himself get lost in the feeling of it all, pulling away from Finn to connect with Leo, pulling away from Leo to let them connect with each other. Everything was so bright.

It felt like forever, and not long enough, when they finally took a moment to catch their breath. Logan let his eyes roam over their tangled forms from where he was still wrapped around Leo, and let out a quiet, wonder-filled laugh. Leo turned to him and tilted his head in question, his chest still heaving where Finn was resting against it. Logan just leaned in and kissed him again, gently this time. He leaned their foreheads together and touched his fingertips to Leo’s lips. “Quand je t'embrasse… je vois des couleurs.”

Leo’s shining blue eyes softened at that, and Logan felt his grip tighten around his waist before Finn, never a fan of being left out, started to complain. “Hey! Don’t speak French. That looked cute. I want to hear the cute things! What did he say?”

Logan laughed, and Leo grinned at him mischievously before turning back to Finn. “Logan’s vision goes all technicolour when he kisses us.”

Logan’s jaw dropped mid-laugh. “Nutty! That is not what I said! It was much nicer when I said it. You make it sound like a bad Austin Powers scene.” He pouted.

Finn laughed back and ran a thumb along Logan’s lower lip, erasing the pout. “Well, if you would speak English in the first place, you wouldn’t have to rely on a faulty translator.”

It was Leo’s turn to protest. “Hey! I’m not faulty!” He paused, fighting back a smirk. “I’m freestyling.”

“Oh, fuck off!” Logan laughed and gave him a shove. Leo was just reaching out to retaliate when Finn’s phone interrupted, suddenly blasting Show Must Go On at an absolutely obnoxious volume.

All three of them startled, Leo and Logan freezing with Logan’s hand still twisted in the shoulder of Leo’s shirt. Finn frantically spun around, looking for the source of the music.

He finally spotted his phone on an end table and scooped it up, silencing it with a relieved sigh before looking over to where Logan was staring at him incredulously.

“… what?” He looked a little suspicious as he tucked his phone back into his pocket.

“What do you mean, ‘what’? Was that an alarm?? Why don’t you have beeps like a normal person?? Merde, Harz, you scared the shit out of us.”

“It’s Finn, Lo. He used a song to start this party, of course he’s going to use one to end it.” Leo’s voice was playful. Finn wrinkled his nose at them.

“Beeps are boring.” He crossed his arms defensively. “Music is more fun. And it’s my reminder that I have a show tonight. Hence—” He swept his arms dramatically out over the balcony railing and bowed to an imaginary crowd, “—'Show Must Go On’.” He spun back to smile brightly at the two of them. “It’s perfect. You’re just a hater.”

Leo laughed, but Logan was still stuck on what Leo had said.

“Hold on, Nut, back up. You said he used a song to start this party? Finn said he sang things at you. Can I know the story?” He wanted to know how they had gotten up the nerve to set this in motion.

“Oh,” Leo turned to Finn, who nodded even though he suddenly looked uncharacteristically self-conscious, “I kind of walked in on Finn playing a song about us this afternoon. When I got back from practise.”

“A song about us? Like, he wrote it? About us?” That was not what he expected. He wasn’t sure how to feel about it- after all, he hadn’t exactly been his best self around Finn recently.

“Ya, that was pretty much my reaction while I listened, too. That’s what finally made us talk about all of this. It’s a beautiful song. Prettier than either of us, that’s for sure.” He teased

“Hey, speak for yourself, I am very pretty.” Logan retorted reflexively, but he was distracted.

He had been watching Finn as Leo talked, and he noticed him doing the thing he always did when they brought up his music, twisting his hands together and looking anywhere but at them- looking, in fact, like he would rather be doing anything else than talking about his music. He’d never asked him about it before, but he’d always wondered.

“Finn?”

“Hmm?” Finn looked up, a smile returning like it had never left.

“Why do you do that? Look away when we talk about your music?”

“Oh. Umm…” Finn looked surprised, his eyes going wide before darting back down again. He opened his mouth as if to continue, but closed it again without speaking.

Logan felt Leo’s hand tighten around his shoulder, but he ignored the gentle warning and barrelled on.

“You’re good, Finn. Like, really good. As in, you could do this as a career, good. So why are you so shy when we say that?”

Finn didn’t look back up, and when he replied, his voice was small, and quiet. Not at all like Finn.

“I can’t, actually.” He scuffed his shoe against a mark on the balcony floor.

Logan tilted his head, puzzled. “Can’t what?” He prodded gently.

Finn took a breath and looked back up a Logan, his jaw set. “I can’t do music professionally. I tried. That’s why I moved to Gryffindor. I spent the first few years here only going to school part-time, and spending as much time as I could just writing, and practising, and playing any venue that would have me. I have knocked on every single record label door in this city. Multiple times. They don’t want me. And it took me a long time to understand that. So, I gave that dream up. Now I just play for fun. For me.”

Logan was stunned. “Finn, I’m sorry, I—”

Finn cut him off, his expression softening. “No, Lo, you don’t have anything to be sorry for. I should have told you guys that before. It’s not like it’s a big secret. I just… it’s hard. It’s hard to hear people say nice things about my music when I know it’s not good enough. You know? So I don’t always like talking about it. And it’s also… I mean, you’re both professional athletes. I’m so proud of you guys all the time, because you know what it’s like to work hard for what you want and to actually achieve it. And I didn’t want you to think less of me because I couldn’t do that.”

“Finn…” Leo started to reach out, but pulled his hand back. “I am so sorry if we’ve ever done anything to give you the impression that we would ever judge you. I promise, nothing you’ve ever said to us, today or any other day, could ever make me think less of you.”

Finn chuckled a bit, still looking at the ground. “I know. Logically, I know that. But sometimes it takes my heart a while to catch up to my brain.” He studied them for a moment before continuing. “I am really glad that you like my songs though. That makes me happy.”

“Like them?” Leo scoffed. “Finn, I threw away every rule I’d given myself and kissed you after you sang to me. I more than like your music.”

Finn actually laughed then, finally, and stepped toward them. Logan watched him reach out for their hands and slide their fingers together. He rubbed his thumb along the edge of Finn’s calloused fingers, imaging the guitar strings underneath them.

“That means a lot. Really. It took me a while to be able to write again after I finally realized it wasn’t going to happen.” He chewed his lip as he considered his words. “I was in a pretty dark place. It was Molly, actually, at the Burrow, who convinced me to let the music pull me out of it. And she was right, of course. Once I stopped trying to think of every lyric as a job application, I was able to actually enjoy it again, to remember why I loved it in the first place. It’s how I sort out my thoughts when everything is too messy in my head.”

Something shook loose in Logan’s memory then. “Wait… that song. The one you played the first night we came to see you here. There was a line… ‘I remember nights when art didn’t feel like work’. You said it was about moving to Gryffindor but… is this what it was actually about? Is that what you felt like?”

Finn looked surprised. “You remember that?”

“Yes. I also remember telling you that I liked that song and wanted to download it, so you should have known I would remember it.” he teased.

Finn grinned at him. “I thought you were just being nice. And yes, that is what that song was about. But, if it’s ok, I don’t really want to talk about it anymore right now.” His expression grew mischievous as he pulled himself closer to Logan, and to Leo. “I have two beautiful, perfect men standing on my balcony that I would very much like to—”

His phone blared from his pocket again.

“No!” Finn yanked it out of his pocket, silenced it, and threw it grumpily onto the chair cushion. “Rude. How did that go by so fast?”

Leo laughed, reaching his hands above his head for a lazy stretch before pulling Finn’s head in for a hug. “So, is that our siren call? Do we have to head out now?”

Finn sighed, deeply and dramatically. “Yes. The time has come, my friends. It’s to the plank we go.”

“Oh, shut up,” Logan grinned, ruffling Finn’s hair. “You love the Burrow.”

“I would love it more if it wasn’t interrupting this.”

“We have all night to do more of this.” Leo reminded him. “Lo and I have the day off tomorrow, and you don’t have class on the weekends.”

“That’s true.” Finn perked up. “You always were the smart one, Marigold. Ok, let’s go!”

Finn ducked out of Leo’s reach as the younger boy tried to retaliate against the nickname Finn only ever used to annoy him. The two of them were laughing now, but Logan felt his anxiety start to rise up at the thought of leaving the apartment, of going into a public space.

He reached out an arm to catch Finn on his way through the door. “Wait. Just… one second.”

Finn and Leo both stopped, looking at him curiously. He suddenly felt self-conscious.

“Um, before we go, can we just… can we agree that this is just between us? Just for now?”

Leo moved to stand directly in front of him, right next to Finn. He waited until Logan met his eyes, and then held them, steady.

“Logan. Of course. We told you we have no intention of doing anything you aren’t ready for and we meant it. And you’re not alone. I don’t think either of us is ready for this to be between anyone but us right now either.”

Finn nodded his agreement. “For everyone else, we are just three best friends, going to a coffee shop to watch a show and drink some liquid sugar. It’s us, Logan. You’re safe with us. I promise.” He grinned and shoved Logans hat down over his eyes. “Now seriously. Let’s go before I kiss one of you again and miss my start time.”

---

Finn

It was the longest show of Finn’s life. He tried his best to be in the moment, but all he could think of was how badly he wanted to be back at the apartment, with the two men he absolutely could not look at the entire time he played.

He had glanced over when he had finished his set-up, taking a moment before starting to just remind himself that they were real, that all of this was real.

Leo had been laughing at something Logan said, and Logan was watching him from across the table with a look that tugged at Finn’s heartstrings. He would never get over it- these two athletes with their strong postures and broad shoulders, their open smiles, and beautiful eyes. One so kind, and steady, and sure, the other so wild and passionate. And they wanted him. It was insane. Leo had noticed Finn watching and sent him a smile that made his heart skip, and Finn knew if he wanted to get through the set, he couldn’t look over again. It was a weird moment for him, as he remembered how awful it had been the first time he’d thought that exact thing, in this same place, at the first show they had ever come to see him play. This time he had a much happier reason to avoid looking their way.

Finn worked his way through the setlist he had rehearsed, trying his best to be present and give the audience his best. It was an easy enough set, all cover songs he had played a hundred times before. He decided at the last minute to throw in a new cover of one of his favourite Eagles songs, taking a quick glance to see that Leo caught the joke. He did, and Finn watched him lean over to explain it to Logan before he had to look away.

For once, the boys were ready to go immediately after he finished cleaning up. He stuck around long enough to give Molly a hug, feeling particularly sentimental toward her after that afternoon, and then they were all piled into his car and blasting Leo’s 90s pop playlist with the windows down.

Finn felt lighter than he had in a very long time. The weight of his secrets was finally off his shoulders, and the knowledge that when they got home he could kiss the boys currently screaming along to Christina Aguilera in the passenger seats of his car eclipsed all his other worries.

They managed to keep it together for the entire walk up from the parking lot, but as soon as the door shut behind them, Logan had Finn pinned up against it. Leo linked back up to the Bluetooth system and Whitney Houston’s I Wanna Dance With Somebody blared through the apartment. Finn laughed into Logan’s mouth when he heard it, pushing him forward into the living room and shoving the coffee table out of the way as Leo danced up behind them.

Leo grabbed Logan’s hands and drew him in for his own kiss, dipping him low and spinning around to twirl him away and pull Finn in. The air was electric as they moved: spinning and touching and kissing and jumping. Too full of dizzy energy to stay in one spot for more than the amount of time it took to pull in close and explode apart. They were sweating and panting and laughing in the dim lighting, reveling in each other’s touch as they danced together in a way they’d never been able to before.

At one point, Finn had tried to step back from the chaos, to let Leo and Logan have a moment while he tried to take it all in. But Leo had reeled him back in close instead, pulling Logan in to sandwich him from the other side.

“We dance together now.” he had said, voice low and confident in their ears.

His words had lit Finn up, set his mind reeling with everything that had happened in the past 12 hours, with the feeling of having both boys there in his arms. He didn’t think he would ever be calm again.

But as the night wore on the energy gradually shifted, and by the time Ocean Eyes came up on the playlist, Finn was finally slowing down. Logan was next, dropping his head to Finn’s shoulder, and then Leo wrapped his long arms around both of them, swaying together as the lyrics washed over them. They were quiet together then, just breathing in each other’s presence. Finn buried his face in Logan’s dark curls, and felt Logan reaching for Leo’s hand. Leo had his chin resting on Finn’s head, and Finn had never felt more right than he did in that moment. He sang along quietly to the lyrics, relishing the way Logan sank further into him as he did.

As the final notes played out, Leo pulled away long enough to switch off his phone. They collapsed together on the couch then, somehow even more wound together than they had been before. Finn wasn’t sure he ever wanted to be farther apart from them than this, ever again.

---

Leo

The three of them sat in silence for a few moments, hands roaming and fingers tangling together as they settled down. Leo couldn’t stop pressing kisses to Finn’s temple.

It was Logan who eventually broke their silence, sighing contentedly from where he was burrowed low in between them.

“I like this apartment.” His voice was soft as his fingertips traced shapes on Leo’s leg.

Leo caught Finn’s eye before the two of them looked over at him.

“You do?” Finn asked.

“Ya.” He paused for moment, looking thoughtful. “It reminds me of the woods, back home.”

That made Finn smile. “Lo, we don’t have so much as a potted plant in here.”

“That’s not what I meant.” Logan looked a little embarrassed then. “I meant like, mentally. I don’t know. It’s kind of stupid, actually. Never mind.”

Leo pulled Logan a little tighter. “Hey, no. Keep going. We want to know.”

“We do.” Finn agreed, running a finger down the length of Logan’s nose before leaning down to kiss the tip of it. “Please tell us?”

Logan rolled his eyes, but he was smiling again now. He shoved himself up to actually sit properly on the couch between them.  “I just… at home, when I’m hiking or camping, it’s just quiet.”

Finn turned to fully face Logan, his arms wrapped around his legs and chin resting on his knees. Leo leaned against his end of the couch as they listened to Logan talk.

Logan continued. “It’s just you, you know? There are no other voices around to get in your head, nothing to worry about or stress over, and it’s… free, I guess. I’m free in the woods” He paused for a moment, looking like he was trying to decide whether to say more. Leo ran a reassuring hand down his arm and wove their fingers together.

Logan smiled down to where they connected, took a breath, and continued, “It’s the only place where I didn’t have to pretend. Where I could let myself feel all of the things I needed to feel. Admit things to myself that I never could have when there were other people around. Other reminders of the real world, you know?” He looked up at Leo. “It’s the place where I finally accepted that what I felt for you was much, much different than what I was supposed to feel for a teammate. It’s a safe place.”

Leo was looking at Logan. This impossibly beautiful boy. Logan was looking back at him, evergreen eyes open and unguarded. It made Leo’s stomach flip. He reached out for Logan then, and pulled him close.

Finn spoke up, quietly, from where he still sat. “And that’s what you feel when you’re here?”

Logan nodded. “Ya. That’s how I feel when I’m here.”

Leo watched Finn melt, sliding down the couch to hug Logan from the other side. “That makes me so happy. I want this to always be that place for you.” He whispered, twining his fingers with Leo’s where they rested on Logan’s chest.

“You’re that place for us, Lo.” Leo pressed their hands firmly against Logan’s heartbeat. “You make us feel safe too.”

After a moment, Logan cleared his throat and spoke again.

“Those woods are also the first place I accidentally drunk-peed on a skunk.”

That pulled a surprised, and probably highly unattractive, snort out of Leo.

Finn pulled back to look at Logan incredulously, “I’m sorry, the FIRST time?!?”

Logan just grinned in response.

“Please tell me that’s a real story.”

“It is.”

“Tell it to us, right now!” Finn demanded gleefully.

Logan laughed again as he leaned back into the couch cushions to start his story. Leo took a second to just take it all in. Logan, care-free and laughing. Finn, eyes glowing with delighted anticipation.

He sent out a silent thank you to whatever part of the universe had worked its magic in the last 24 hours, and settled in to listen, arms wrapped around both of the boys.

His boys.

---

[cakesunflower]

Two’s A Party [C.H. One Shot]

A/N: So basically I read this sentence prompt that went “If you don’t get turned on by having your neck kissed, something’s wrong with you” and instantly thought of Calum and viola this was born. Funny how I was legit talking to @5sosnsfw last night about how writing smut is so bleh and then I wrote this about 24 hours later. Calum just does it to me, man.

This is written in 2nd person which I rarely ever do in a proper one shot so enjoy it while it lasts LMAO. This is all just smut/situations leading up to it. 

It’s only about 4k words so...... Happy reading!

The party had died down around two-thirty in the morning, your apartment engulfed in a pleasant, calm lul as opposed to the enjoyable rowdiness your friends brought with them. Besides, it wasn’t even a party, per se. More so a get together with your closest friends where you watched movies, ate lots of food, played board games, and drank even more alcohol. It was a fun way of winding down from the week and getting ready for the weekend, jobs and other adulting commitments making it difficult for you to see your friends as often as you’d like.

Especially those who didn’t stick around for too long, given their lifestyle, vastly different from your own, had them constantly traveling.

“Are you still going?”

Your eyes flickered away from the TV, which was playing an episode of Vampire Diaries—you weren’t sure why; you vaguely remembered one of your friends wanting to watch an episode just for Ian Somerhalder—and you looked up at Calum emerging from the hallway. He was eyeing the glass of wine you were sipping from, his own eyes a bit glassy from the hits he’d taken, curls ruffled a top his head as he slowly made his way over to you.

He was the last one still at your place, the rest of your friends having climbed into their Ubers after bidding goodnight, and you didn’t mind at all. You loved Calum’s company, sober or otherwise, and you didn’t have to tell him he was welcome to stay over for him to know.

You lowered the glass after swallowing the bittersweet sip, a lazy, tipsied smile gracing your lips. It was your second glass of wine—thought that was after a round of ill advised shots Luke wanted to take and a couple of hits from one of your other friend’s pen. You weren’t drunk, but a pleasant, enjoyable buzz hummed through your veins and tickled your skin. Your head kind of felt heavy on your shoulders, nothing you weren’t used to, but it was a welcome feeling.

“Don’t judge me in my own home,” you responded, watching as Calum snorted as he stepped over you. You were sitting on the ground, on a floor cushion that was softer than your couch, back against it as you absently watched the show with a throw blanket on your lap.

You felt the couch subtly move behind you, hearing Calum grunt gently as he laid down, legs dangling over one side of the arm rest as his head rested on the couch near where yours was as you remained seated. “Why’re you sitting on the floor?” Calum asked, voice raspy and just a little bit muffled due to his cheek pressed against the couch.

You licked your lips, tasting the wine, wondering if you should pour some more as you drawled, “Why are you asking so many questions?”

You knew why, of course. He wasn’t entirely sober, and whether he was drunk or high—especially high—it was when every question that ran through Calum’s mind was voiced. His need to know things always took over, asking, asking, asking. And you were always patient with him, always answering, wanting to do your best to feed his hunger of knowing. That’s how it also worked when you told him about the classes you were currently taking in grad school, and he asked you about the lectures and readings. He couldn’t go back to school like he wanted, not yet anyway, so you let him live vicariously through you. Calum always did the same when you asked about his life on the road, the wanderess in you never silenced.. Give and take, always.

Calum was silent for a few moments, the only sound in your apartment coming from the TV as the show continued on. You watched with slightly hooded eyes, unable to truly focus. At this point, you may be more tired than high. But you wanted to enjoy Calum’s company for as long as you could.

“Can I ask you another question?” he finally spoke up, the lazy drawl in his deep voice enticing. When you hummed in response, Calum asked, “What the fuck is sexual abandonment?”

You let out a groan, throwing your head back, just barely grazing Calum’s side where he lay as you felt and heard him chuckle at your reaction. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as thoughts of your ex flashed through your mind, more annoyed than pained. There was no love lost, but Calum was really blowing her shit right now. “Listen, shut up. I can’t believe I dated someone who used that as a reason to break up,” you huffed, straightening your head with a shake of it. Calum’s chuckles were deep behind you, all too amused, as your face scrunched up at the mere thought of your ex-boyfriend. He really had said he was dumping you because of sexual abandonment. You figured that’s why you’d never date a law student again. Or someone named Greg. You snorted as you raised your glass of wine. “I’m surprised he didn’t sue me.”

That only had Calum laughing harder, your smile growing as you swallowed your wine and looked over your shoulder. He was pressing his face on the couch cushion, shoulders shaking from his raspy laughter, and you could see the crinkles by his eyes as he did so. He was fucking adorable.

You bit your smiling lower lip, forcing yourself to look away from him and back at the TV screen, face scrunching up once again in distaste as you sounded disapprovingly, “Ugh.”

“What?” Calum questioned through a somewhat squeaky and endearing voice as his laughter dissolved into chuckles, taking a breath to calm himself down.

“That,” you answered, pouting at the TV as you watched one of the characters kiss the other’s neck, the recipient of it looking far too much like she was enjoying it. You couldn’t relate. “Not fun. Does absolutely nothing.”

From behind you, you heard Calum let out a disbelieving scoff, and without even looking at him you could hear the frown he wore as he said, “If you don’t get turned on by having your neck kissed, something’s wrong with you, doll.”

You finished off your wine with a roll of your eyes, putting the glass on the coffee table and blinking back some focus as you realized you put it a bit too close to the edge and pushed it further to the center of the table. Settling back against the couch, you informed your Australian friend, “No one I’ve ever been with has turned me on by kissing my neck. Either they just suck at it, or something really is wrong with me.”

Calum clicked his tongue in disapproval, and you felt his right arm wind around you, settling across your collarbones as he remained behind you. You enjoyed his warmth, the closeness not unfamiliar, until he shifted and you felt his lips brush along the shell of your ear as he murmured lowly, “They didn’t know what they were doin’. You need someone who does.”

Either you were drunker than you initially thought, or this was starting to take a turn you hadn’t been prepared for. Still, the sound of his husky voice sent a shiver down your spine, stomach flipping excitedly as you played with him for a brief moment, perhaps as a way of testing to see if you were right about the direction this was headed in. “Let me know if you find anyone willing.”

The hand that was wrapped around you was settled near the nape of your neck, throat working when Calum dragged a finger along the side of it in a featherlight touch. “Already have.”

Yeah. This was definitely going where you realized you desperately wanted it to go.

You inhaled deeply, the anticipation suddenly buzzing your veins more than any of the drinks had, biting the inside of your lower lip as Calum hummed, “Come up here, yeah?”

You moved without much thought, getting up from the floor to scoot up to the couch as Calum had moved, the blanket falling to the floor. Without having you face him, he had you settled between his legs, relaxed, hands settling at the juncture of your thighs where the heat of his touch seeped through the thin material of your leggings. Your heart was thundering your chest, in overdrive as you breathed in the scent of his familiar cologne deliciously mixed with the faint scent of weed, feeling Calum sit up behind you as his chest pressed against your back.

“Relax, doll,” he murmured, voice all too enticing, “just watch your show.”

It had been challenging to focus on the damn show before; did he really think you’d be able to now?

Still, you did as he said, ridding of any tension built from anticipation as you leaned into his sturdy chest, gaze on the show playing on the TV as you felt the first soft pressure of Calum’s lips. He started on your left side, where your neck met your shoulder, and you reveled in the coincidence of your decision to wear a tank top tonight.

Calum’s movements were slow, purposeful, as he pressed close mouthed kisses, starting a trail leading up the side of your neck, and each touch of his soft lips against your skin had you lightly biting your bottom lip. It was embarrassing how the sensation of his lips already had you realizing that, yeah, this was better than anyone else who’d ever tried this on you.

His hands were on your hips, teasingly sliding to the juncture of your thighs, the brush of his fingers flipping your stomach desirably. You weren’t oblivious to the way your heart was picking up its pace, already starting to find it difficult to focus on a bunch of vampires on the TV screen as Calum’s lips reached the spot where your jaw and neck met. The added sensation of his stubble scratching gently against the previous kissed spots, along with the tickling brush of his curls, had you biting your tongue as you tried to keep your breaths steady.

The wine that buzzed in your veins only heightened everything you were feeling, taking in a soft breath when Calum teased your skin with a nibble. Your eyes fluttered as his kisses trailing down started slowly becoming more intense, more playing with your skin with the use of his teeth and tongue, heart leaping in your throat when he chuckled against you. You felt his deep, quiet laughter in his chest against your back. With a squeeze of your hips, Calum murmured, “I can tell you’re already enjoying this.”

You didn’t want to give in too easily—give into what, you weren’t sure—despite leaning your head back just a little against his shoulder, hooded eyes still on the TV as you breathed, “Only a little.”

Calum, of course, took that as a challenge.

He scoffed lightly, bringing his left hand up to cup your right jaw, turning your face towards his as he lifted his head to look at you. The distance between you two was practically nonexistent, and you wondered if his dark, blown out pupils were because of whatever high he may be riding or because of what he was doing to you. You knew yours damn well had to do with him.

There was a boyish, wicked smirk growing on his lips, his hand warm against your cheek, thumb brushing along your lower lip as he leaned in close. You tried to ignore the way your heart jumped when Calum’s lips brushed against yours, just barely, so close but not entirely, as he whispered arrogantly, “You’re a shit liar.”

And then his head was ducking once more, and this time as his lips trailed to your collarbone, you felt the newfound passion behind his kisses—one that you welcomed wholeheartedly.  

The enticing burn of his stubble was soothed by the warm press of his lips, only to be teased unforgivingly with his teeth and tongue as he bit and sucked at your skin, determined to leave marks you both knew you’d wear proudly. Your breath caught in your throat, eyes still on the TV but not at all in focus, head leaned back to willingly give Calum access. Your right hand gripped the edge of the couch, digging into the soft material, while the other had a mind of its own and reached up to bury your fingers in the back of Calum’s head, lost in the strands of his curls.

He took his time with the kisses, never dialing back on the fervor, knowing just how much he was picking up your heart rate as he felt your body react to him. It drove him crazy, hearing the small gasps and sharp inhales you sounded every time he added a new mark to paint your skin with, wondering if you could feel just what you were doing to him, too. You could.

Calum’s hand that was gripping your jaw shifted, just a fraction, enough to allow for his thumb to slip past your lips, grip on your thigh tightened when you, without hesitation, wrapped your lips around the thumb and sucked. “Fuck,” Calum groaned breathily, lips dragging on your skin as you didn’t even try to hide the smirk that threatened to grow.

He kissed another mark he left on you before lifting his head, lips no longer on your skin and thumb no longer in your mouth. Your eyes met his dark ones, his no longer glazed from the weed but solely because of you, barely giving you a chance to let out a breath as Calum used the hand that held your jaw to turn you towards him more, closing the gap as his lips that had been teasing your neck for God knows how long finally met yours in a searing, toe curling kiss.

The two of you moved, lips never leaving one anothers as you turned to straddle Calum where he sat, the TV in the background drowned out by the sounds of your sharp breathing as you kissed, suddenly feeling a bit too constrained by the clothes that you both wore. You felt yourself easily getting lost in the feel of Calum’s lips against yours, working perfectly as the kiss deepened and the tongue that had been teasing your neck effortlessly slid against yours. Your fingers gripped the hem of Calum’s shirt, and he easily got the message as he reached behind to grip the material off his back and lift it off of himself completely, the kiss breaking for a brief moment that you used to take off your own tank top.

You grinned lazily at the sight of his unruly curls, messed up by your own fingers and the act of taking off his shirt, biting down on your lower lip as you noticed Calum watching you watch him. The incredulity of this whole situation wasn’t lost on either of you, but it wasn’t something you wanted to think about. That would come later.

So for now, Calum wrapped his arms around your waist before getting up effortlessly with your legs around him, smirking at the startled exclaim that fell past your lips as Calum lowered you onto your back on the couch, getting on his knees above you. Reaching your hand forward, you gripped the pendant of the necklace he wore, tugging him down to connect your lips once more, mouth craving to slant against his as Calum eagerly returned the kiss. He used one hand to plant by your head to keep himself above you, the fingers of the other digging under the band of your leggings and panties and giving them a quick tug downwards.

You couldn’t help the giggle that fell past your lips as you helped him in taking off the offending materials, the kiss breaking as he sat up to rid himself of his own pants. Both of your movements weren’t as frenzy as the pace of your heats, taking your time in ridding the clothes despite the pressing urge to once again close the gap between the two of you.

You looked up at Calum, your breathing heavy, as he sat on his knees between your legs, gaze never leaving yours as he rolled on the condom he’d taken out from his wallet. You wondered if his lips once again craved yours, wondered if his felt electric from the kisses shared while yearning for more, admiring the pinkness of his mouth from treating you so well.

There was a heat firing up your body as Calum openly admired you as well, laying bare all for him. Did he also find this turn of events unexpected? Was he also grateful things had taken this path, just like you were? Because fuck it if you never imagined getting to be with him like this, savoring every piece of him for as long as you could.

He leaned down to kiss you again, your eyes fluttering shut as you felt his chest press against yours, gasping into his mouth when his finger teased your slick folds. Calum’s lips curled into a smirk, the rasp of his voice chilling as he groaned at your wetness and mused, “No one could’ve turned you on like this except for me, doll.” Your fingers dug into his shoulders, nails sensually dragging across his skin as he added another finger into you. “Always remember that.”

As if you could ever forget.

You were lucky that Calum took mercy on you, hearing the whimper you released and he swallowed amidst your kiss, pumping his fingers a few times, dragging them against your walls, admiring your tightness before pulling them out and teasing your entrance with the tip of his cock. Being verbal wasn’t something you found yourself capable of, all of the sensations starting from the second Calum had pressed his lips to your neck to now overwhelming you, but you knew Calum and you knew he would wait until you gave him the go ahead.

So you kissed him, tugging at his lower lip with your teeth, the press of his chest against yours syncing your heartbeats, as you begged, “Please, Cal.”

He reveled in the moan you let out as he buried himself inside of you, the kiss breaking as your eyes shut and head tilted back at the sensation of him filling you. Calum dropped his lips to your throat, curls and eyelashes brushing against your skin as he squeezed his own eyes shut at the feel of you around him, snug and right. He cursed under his breath, guttural and blissed, feeling the confirming squeeze you gave his bicep a moment later that allowed him to create a pace that effortlessly drove you both crazy.

One leg on the couch while the foot of the other planted itself on the ground, Calum so easily hit that spot that had your heart jumping and head dizzying. You were overwhelmed by him; by him filling you up so well, by his lips on your throat, by the hand that wasn’t holding him up reaching between the two of you so his thumb could toy with your clit.

Calum lifted his head, taking in the flush of your cheeks and blissed out look in your eyes as you looked up at him through a hooded gaze, and he couldn’t be more entranced if he tried. He smirked breathlessly, nipping at your lower lip, grunts falling past his throat as he praised, “Take me so well, baby. How’s it feel knowin’ only I can get you like this?”

You let out a sharp breath, the urge to feel his lips against you strong as you confirmed breathlessly, “So good,” before kissing him like your life depended on it because, honestly, it felt as though it did.

The familiar coil in the pit of your stomach tightened as Calum kept his pace, thumb still circling your clit, and you knew that Calum knew you well enough at this point. You didn’t realize how well until he urged, “Let go, baby.”

Stars exploded behind your eyelids as you felt yourself do just that, the satisfied, blissed out sounds you let out music to Calum’s ears as his own release soon followed, burying his head in the crook of your neck so you could feel the press of his lips and scratch of his stubble. Even the pendant of his necklace dragging across your skin sent shivers down your spine, the mix of all these heavenly sensations taking over in the best way possible.

Your breathing was labored, as was Calum’s, whimpering softly as he pulled out of you and rid of the condom in the makeshift garbage bag made from one of the empty takeout bags. Calum then picked up the blanket and you lazily shifted over as much as you could towards the back of the couch, letting Calum settle next to you—though you ended up a bit on top of him. Neither of you minded.

You stared up at the ceiling, willing your heart to calm down as you reveled in the warmth of Calum’s bare body against yours in the minimal space your couch offered. The blanket reached up far enough to cover your chest, Calum’s toes just barely peeking out from the other end. He’d propped his head on the armrest, your own laying against his chest as his fingers lightly trailed up and down your arm as his own stayed wrapped around your shoulders. The TV was still on, as was that damned show, though neither of you paid it any attention. How could you, when you’d just done what you did?

Your stomach was still fluttering, lips electric, biting them before breaking the silence between you two. “So I guess nothing was wrong with me. Everyone else just sucked.”

Calum let out a deep chuckle at that as his fingers that had been dancing on your arm trailed over to your neck, brushing against the sensitive spots that were blooming into the bruises he’d intentionally left. Voice a low murmur, the smirk ever present, he responded smugly, “I know.”

You scoffed, lightly smacking his chest with the back of your hand, earning another laugh from him. Reaching your hand up, you took Calum’s that was trailing along your neck and played with his fingers, a thought popping in your head as you bit the inside of your cheek. Watching your fingers play with his, you dared yourself to hum, “Know what I’ve been wondering?”

He allowed you to pull off one of his silver rings before taking it between his fingers and sliding it over your thumb, the only place it’d fit. “What’s that?”

You took a silent breath, preparing yourself as the anticipation started building up without much doing. Tilting your head, you looked up to meet Calum’s curious gaze, his eyebrows quirking at the not-so-innocent smirk tilting at your lips. “If the rumors about your head game are true.”

His eyes darkened and you knew you had his attention—not that you’d ever lost it. And when your smirk widened, biting your lip, Calum’s own wicked one came out to play, already pulling off the blanket to make his way towards your sensitive heat. Your heart jumped, gasping as he got to his knees on the floor and gripped your hips to turn your body towards him, smirking up at you from between your legs as he taunted, “Only one way to find out.”  

--

tags: @irwinkitten @sweetcherrymike @meetashthere @loveroflrh @softforcal @astroashtonio @hereforlukescruff @novacanecalum @captain-what-is-going-on @angelbbycal @singt0mecalum @hopelessxcynic @lfwallscouldtalk @bodhi-black @findingliam-o @softlrh @calntynes @calumsmermaid @erikamarie41 @quintodosuniversos @longlastingdaydream @babylon-corgis @lukehemmingsunflower @spideyseavey @imfuckin10plybud @pastelpapermoons @conquerwhatliesahead92 @rotten-kandy @metangi @neigcthood @ohhmuke @old-zeppelin-shirt @5sos-and-hessa @trustmeimawhalebiologist @vxlentinecal @pettybassists @vaporshawn @lu-my-golden-boi @visualm3nte @isabella-mae13 @dontjinx-it @lifeakaharry @neonweeknds @antisocialbandmate @ixcantxdecidexwhosxmyxfave @calpalbby @grreatgooglymoogly @sunnysidesblog @cocktail-calum @miahelizaaabeth @madelynerin @dramallamawithsparkles @theagenderwhocriedwolf @kaytiebug14 @hoodskillerqueen @bitchinbabylon @empathycth @xhaileyreneex​ @inlovehoodx​ @calistheloml @aestheticrelated​ @bloodlinecal​ @sublimehood​ @madbomb​ @raabiac @britnicole11​ @outofmylimitcal​ @wildflower-cth​ @bloodmoonashton​ @vxidhood​ @tea4sykes @wildflowergrae​ 

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Out of curiosity, do Callie and chris ever run into each other/ confront each other after

CW: Referenced head-banging and resulting injury, brief ableism references, gaslighting, vaguely referenced institutional pet whump

(for context, see This Isn’t Hypothetical For Chris, “Can You Come Get Me?”, No Words, and Drop)

“Um. Hey.”

Chris, in the midst of a careful, incredibly precise drawing of a tiny Easter Island moai while studying for the Non-Western Art History test, looks up, only to freeze, his fingers tensing around his pencil until he presses so hard the lead snaps off, rolling down the notebook.

His hair is pulled back, caught at his nape with a clip Mari let him borrow, but he wishes all at once that it weren’t, so he could shake it over his face, hide behind it. That it wasn’t blue but some color no one saw in a crowd, so she wouldn’t have seen him and known it was him.

He hesitates too long, and she shifts, moving herself into his field of vision again. “Chris, are you-... are you busy?”

“Hey, um, hi... hi, Callie,” Chris mumbles, looking back down again, clicking the end of the mechanical pencil to get more lead, enjoying the sound and the very slight press of the eraser against his thumb. “I’m just, just studying. What, um, what do, do, do-do you... what do you want?”

She seems to take it as an invitation, which it isn’t. When she pulls out the chair across the table, the legs scrape along the floor impossibly loudly, but only Chris seems bothered by it. The sound makes his teeth itch, a feeling he can’t possibly describe in any other way. When he moves the chair, he picks it up, carefully placing it back down, avoiding the sound that shudders through him and digs into the tiniest bones. 

Everyone else just scrapes. 

She tucks some of her own bouncy, wavy brown hair behind one ear. It’s chilly today, it was so foggy this morning Chris could barely see from one side of the bridge to the other when he crossed over the highway to the other side of campus to get some coffee to help him cram before the test. Callie is wearing a heavy cable-knit sweater that drapes just so off one shoulder, showing the silken strap there, and skintight dark jeans. She looks really pretty, but Chris mostly thinks everyone looks pretty. 

Even Dylan in the morning looks pretty, with his hair all messed up. Even though Chris is still kind of mad at him and probably always will be. 

Chris is in his usual thick black compression shirt, helping him hold off the weight of the lights, keeping the prickle of the Student Center from digging too deeply into his skin. Over that, a t-shirt from the Lion King musical that Mari brought back from her last trip home - (”I have like five, now, Chris, I’ve seen it in like six different places you can have this one, if you want? It’s from when I saw it in Chicago.” And of course he did, he is starting a small collection of shirts he had gotten from nearly everyone he knows), and one of Jake’s heavy sweater-coats, borrowed - but really stolen - from the house last weekend. Jake pretends not to know. Chris brings them back eventually.

Between Chris and Kauri, it’s a miracle Jake ever has anything warm to wear at all.

“So, I just-... I wanted to, um. I haven’t seen you around-... oh, did you get hurt?” She cocks her head to the side, and Chris looks away from her, spinning the pencil in his fingers, his foot tapping on the ground now, nervous energy bubbling inside him. 

There’s a bandage, still, on his forehead. He wishes he could say it was from the day in class, but it’s not. It’s from a few days ago, after meeting with the grad student to sign stuff to drop the class. It’s from coming home with all his hurt and fear a spinning top that he could only calm by breaking its rhythm, and he’s, it’s regression, but it’s okay, sometimes you go back and you get back up and go forward again, Dr. Berger says it’s okay sometimes to backslide as long as you know you have people to help you get up-

“I’m fine,” He says, flat and smooth words, barely his own voice at all. “Hit my head on, on, on a cabinet.”

Technically true.

She nods, folding her hands in her lap, watching him with those sort of big sad eyes people get sometimes, when they’re working up to something and want you to know they’re not the bad guy. Her drink has a cloth sleeve on it with tiny little bow ties. He wonders if she made it herself.

She clears her throat. “Okay, um. Good to hear it. So... I just... I heard you dropped.”

“Yep.” Chris keeps his eyes down now, on his pencil. The gentle weight of his feather necklace reminds him that he has other options, too. For now, though, he spins his pencil on top of his open notebook, the drawing of the moai. “Who told you that, um, that-... that I, I dropped?”

“I mean, when you weren’t in class for a couple weeks-... you know at first I thought you just, like, you know... the teacher told you not to come by, but then you kept not coming, and...” She kind of throws her hands up. Hers are painted a cheerful blue-toned red. Chris’s are black, but they’re heavily chipped. He’s been picking at them again. “I asked Esh, finally, and he said-”

“Eshiram.”

“What?” She blinks, confused. 

“Not Esh. His, his, his name’s Eshiram.”

“No, I know, I just-... whatever. Look, so, I get that you’re probably still pretty mad, and... I’ve kind of been trying to hunt you down to say I’m sorry.”

Chris, caught off guard, pauses in spinning his pencil and turns to look at her again. “What?”

“About... I would never, ever have wanted you to feel you had to drop the class, Chris, I swear.” She leans forward, all earnest sincerity, and there’s a look of guilt on her that makes him think she means it. It wasn’t her idea, after all - if she’s even fucking talking to him, she doesn’t know what he is, she didn’t catch it like the grad student did.

After the drawn out moment, his foot starts to tap on the floor again. “It’s, um, it’s, it’s, it’s okay,” He says, wishing he had his own drink, something to hold in his hands and sip. The nerves start to wind up inside him, and he drops one hand down where she can’t see it, starts to tap on the side of his thigh.

“No, it’s not.” Callie sighs, shaking her head. Her hair moves with the motion and he catches a hint of her shampoo, it smells like fruit and honey. “It’s not, Chris. Look, I just-... I took everything you said super personally, and that wasn’t okay. I get that you, you know, you weren’t really talking about me.”

Chris turns to look at her, blinking wide green eyes, thinking, Yes, I was.

He opens his mouth to maybe tell her, but the pause goes on too long and she’s already talking again before he can. “There’s all these reports about abuse, and everything, I swear more than ever, and it just-... puts me on edge, you know? So I heard you saying-... well, you know. You don’t know that things are better at our house. All you know is what you’ve, you know, seen on the news.”

Chris takes in a breath and holds it, tapping hard against the seam of his jeans. He isn’t going to get angry. Getting angry made him have to drop and lose points off his GPA, getting angry gets him noticed by too many people all at once, angry feels heavy and hurting, angry draws attention, attention mean eyes and hands and-

Let the breath out. Exhale. He has to purposefully remind himself to do it.

“I, I, I know more than, um, than that,” He manages to say, but his voice is small. He’s no good at being angry, when it’s not in the moment, when there’s nothing to draw him out of himself. “I don’t, don’t just... build sets all day, Callie, I’m, I’m, I know other, um, other things.”

“Yeah, I know, I know. Like, I’m surprised you’re not, like, a math major or something, like in that movie-”

Chris sits back and snorts out bitter laughter. “You, you, you mean, um, The Gift?”

“Yeah! Vincent Shield did such a good job, they said he did a bunch of like, work to really get into character which is so cool since he was only, like, sixteen when he did that one with that, you know, the other guy he did movies with all the time-”

“Owen-... Owen Grant.”

“Yeah! I wonder what happened to him. Anyway-”

“Do you, do... do, do, do you think-... Callie, I suck at, um, at math.” Chris can’t help himself. He starts to laugh at the absurdity, and Callie looks like he’s hit her across the face, wide-eyed, shocked. “This is, um, this, this is, this-... this is a really, really-... really bad apology.”

“Yeah, I know.” Callie kind of laughs along with him, then, but there’s something fake and brittle to her laughter. “But I swear, I just came to say I’m sorry. It was just a misunderstanding, I really didn’t mean for you to have to drop. I swear, Chris, I don’t, like, hate you or think anything bad about you-”

You called me a fucking spastic.

“-or anything like that. I just... can you forgive me for losing my temper? I’m sorry, it’s just, when my family is attacked by people who don’t even know us, I get super defensive, and-... and I should have realized you weren’t really attacking us, just, you know, the system.”

Chris stares down at his shoes. He thinks, you are the system, it doesn’t exist without people like you who buy us, but he doesn’t say anything.

She seems to take this as agreement.

It isn’t.

“So, yeah. I’m just... I’m really sorry, Chris. Will this throw your whole, you know, graduation and everything off, or do you think you’ll still be good?”

Does she even really care? Chris swallows and raises his head, to look at her again, fixing his eyes just slightly to the left of her face, where it won’t be obvious he isn’t focused on her. An old trick, one he used to do to stay safe in training, maybe... maybe before that.

Even though he can’t remember a before that anymore.

Because of people who buy people like him.

“I’ll, um, I’ll be good,” He says, and the words taste like dust and feel like gravel on his tongue. “I worked out a, a, a-a plan with, with my, um advisor. So I’ll... I’ll be-”

so good for you

“Fine.”

“Great.” She relaxes, all smiles again, and reaches over putting her hand over his left arm, gripping a little. Chris feels the weight of it like the clap of restraints forcing him down on a table and stiffens, looking right at her the way he’s supposed to.

Years go by, but the training isn’t gone. Not all the way.

“Listen,” She says, voice low. “I really am sorry. But you just-... can’t go around thinking everybody who does something you don’t like is bad, you know?”

His heart races in his throat, he can barely swallow around it. “Yes,” He says, softly. She doesn’t hear the first stirrings of panic. But he feels them. “I... know.”

Good boy.

“I’ll see you around, Chris, okay? I’m glad we talked about this.” She pats his arm, like a handler almost, and then pushes herself to her feet. The chair scrapes back and Chris’s teeth grind together as the sound ricochets around inside him. The dim warm lights overhead lay heavily over the fabric he wears to protect himself from touch like that.

It’s not enough.

He can still feel the hand on his arm as she walks away, heads out the double-doors and is gone.

Chris’s hand slides to the feather and he pushes the silicone plastic between his teeth, letting his tongue press up against the carved vanes, sinking into the familiar sensation, letting it wrap around him, calm his pulse, help him rebuild the thin wall he needs between himself and the world.

He stares blankly off into space, chewing the feather, unnoticed by the few other people in the Student Center this early in the morning. 

She probably feels so much better.

Like so many other people in his life, she made herself feel better by making Chris feel so much worse.

After a while, still chewing on the feather, he picks his pencil back up and starts to draw another moai.

He’s probably going to fail this test.

---

Tagging: @burtlederp , @finder-of-rings , @endless-whump , @whumpfigure , @slaintetowhump , @astrobly, @newandfiguringitout , @doveotions , @pretty-face-breaker , @boxboysandotherwhump , @oops-its-whump @moose-teeth , @cubeswhump , @cupcakes-and-pain @whump-tr0pes @whumpiary

[musical-shit-show]

Two Sides: Chapter 1

Characters: Musical!Beetlejuice, Female!OC, Lydia Deetz, Barbara Maitland, Adam Maitland

Warnings: anxiety, alcohol mention, brief mention of death

Word Count: 1282

Author’s Note: Okay so I’m honestly really nervous about posting this fic, but I’ve been working on it for a few months now and have really been wanting to get back into writing, so here goes nothing. Please like and/or reblog if you like it, as well as send a message in my ask box if you have any comments! I really want to make some more friends in the Beetlejuice fandom, and seeing as I follow a fair number of blogs on here, I thought this would be a good way to do that! 

As for this chapter, it really is just setting up the relationship between my OC (Cassandra) and Lydia. It really only features these two characters, but I’ll be sure to post the next chapter in a few days. Also just a note that now that I’ve figured out a bit of how Tumblr works, I’ll be posting what kind of requests I will and will not take, as well as some writing prompts. Anyways, here’s my first chapter, I hope you enjoy!

Chapter 1

Being invisible can be great. Anonymity in this day and age is a rare commodity, and one must seize it when presented. There’s something about sticking in headphones and disappearing into a crowd that can be so…liberating. Avoiding a random classmate from school year’s past can almost feel like a high, a small victory in the chaos of life.

Other times, being invisible was a curse. It sucked all of the life out of you until you were left with anger and sadness. Sometimes, you don’t feel anything. Invisibility meant no one saw you, the real you, and that left a sickening, empty void. Nothingness.

Cassandra Burke almost always experienced the latter feeling of invisibility. Aloneness, emptiness were sensations she felt on an almost daily basis. No matter how comfortable of a situation she found herself in, more often than not she would retreat from the spotlight. It was just easier to more dominant personalities take hold of the conversation, whether that be at work, a bar, or other social gatherings. Her anxiety often got the best of her, the fear of making one wrong remark blocking her from making very many real connections in this world.

Her best friend, Lydia Deetz, was the only one who ever saw her for who she was. In turn, Lydia felt the same way about Cassandra. Ever since they became roommates their sophomore year of college, the two became joined at the hip, able to understand and appreciate the differences between one another. Both girls had felt that level of isolation in their lives, (though through completely different circumstances), and they bonded instantly. The two fit together seamlessly, like pieces in a perfectly assembled puzzle.

Cassandra can still perfectly remember the night she met Lydia. It was her freshman year, and she had somehow managed to wind up at a disgustingly overpacked frat house on a chilly October evening. Not knowing a soul on campus, she was desperate to make new friends. However, what 18-year-old, fresh-out-of-high-school Cassandra had not realized is that a party filled to the brim with drunk college kids isn’t the best way to make lifelong friends to share all your hopes and dreams with.

Only fifteen minutes after arriving, she found herself pinned up against the wall, being crushed by a sea of people migrating slowly across the faux-wood flooring, which had grown sticky with spilled jungle juice. Cassandra felt a pang in her chest, a telltale sign that her anxiety was about to get the best of her. She clutched her small bag to her side, scanning the room for an exit strategy. If anyone even looked at her, she swore she’d die of embarrassment—

“Hey,” there was a sudden tap on her shoulder, “You wanna get the fuck out of here?”

Cassandra spun around, coming face-to-face with another girl. She stood a few inches taller than her, a short black dress clinging to her thin frame. The taller girl also sported a short black bob, heavy eye makeup, and a camera that hung around her neck. Cassandra leaned in closer, unable to fully make out what the girl was saying over the thumping bass of the indistinct techno song that was blaring from the speakers.

“Sorry, uh, what?”

“You look miserable,” the girl said louder, “I am too. Wanna leave?”

Cassandra felt a wave of relief crash over her. She nodded, and within five minutes, the two girls were hastily walking down the sidewalk, their breath visible in the cool evening air.

“So, wanna go downtown and people watch all the drunk idiots out tonight?” the dark-haired girl said, her eyes shining mischievously in the moonlight, “Sometimes if they’re being particularly obnoxious, I like to pretend to hex them so they get all freaked out and leave me alone.” Cassandra stared blankly at the other girl, deciding if she was serious or just messing with her. She extended her arm, “I’m Lydia, by the way. Lydia Deetz.”

“Cassandra,” she responded, gripping Lydia’s hand, “My friends back home called me Cassie. Or Cass.” She smiled sadly, suddenly remembering how lonely she was. Lydia nudged her out of her reverie, a small grin etched upon her face.

“Well, I like all three of those names,” Lydia remarked, strutting confidently down the sidewalk farther towards the edge of campus, “So, you down to scare some inebriated assholes?” After a moment, Cassandra nodded, and the two girls spent the entire night laughing and talking about their lives. Not soon after, they became practically inseparable.

That was five years ago. Now, they were still living together, trading their dorm room for a shoebox apartment in New York City, from which Lydia originally hailed. It was nice. Cassandra was lucky to have Lydia, especially given that her black-haired friend was far more popular than her in their college years. Sure, she was a bit strange, but people at school really took to her. Meanwhile, Cassandra struggled to open up to her schoolmates, leaving her to fade in the background over the past few years.

“Hey Cass!” Lydia called from their shared bedroom, “Have you seen my camera?” Having gained a bachelor’s degree in photography, Lydia had taken thousands of pictures in Cassandra’s presence. Now, she had a desk job at an editorial magazine, and shot photos in her spare time to expand her portfolio.

Cassandra furrowed her brow, searching her memory. “Uh, I think I saw it underneath your bed?” she called back, uncertain of the whereabouts of one of her roommate’s prized possessions. For all the wit she had, Lydia could be incredibly forgetful at times. Seconds later, she heard a triumphant cry from the other room. Cassandra let a small smile flicker across her face.

“Found it!” Lydia said, emerging from their room. She slung the strap of the expensive Nikon around her small frame, “I don’t know what I’d do without this over the weekend.”

Lydia frequented her old house in Connecticut every few weekends. Though she lived there during her high school years, her dad and stepmom had moved back to the city, leaving the house to her aunt and uncle. Cassandra didn’t know much about them, except their names – Barbara and Adam – and that they were incredibly kindhearted people.

Cassandra’s eyes flickered between the grad school application she was finishing and her best friend fiddling with her camera. What she’d give to have a weekend out of the city. She was certain Connecticut in the fall was spectacularly beautiful, but there was work to be done, and more importantly, Lydia had never offered an invitation.

She found this odd, but Cassandra knew how secretive she was about her family. The only relative she ever talked about at length was her mom, who had died when Lydia was in her early teenage years. Why she never really talked about anyone else was beyond Cassandra, but she had just shrugged it off. If Lydia wanted to be private about that aspect of her life, who was she to pry?

She had been so lost in thought that she didn’t notice Lydia staring at her. “What?” Cassandra asked innocently, blinking a few times in confusion. Lydia crossed her arms across her black top, smirking. Lydia was incredibly perceptive when it came to her best friend, and could almost read her mind at times.

“What are you doing this weekend?” she asked, quirking an eyebrow upward. Cassandra exhaled, wracking her brain for any plans she had potentially made. Of course, there were none.

“Nothing.”

“Good, you’re coming with me,” Lydia replied, a playful smile dancing across her lips, “I think it’s finally time for you to meet Adam and Barbara.”

---

And that’s the end of Chapter 1! Like I said, I’ve been terrified about posting this, so if you liked the first chapter, like and/or reblog! Thanks!

[noahhernandez]

2/9/2015 v. 8/11/2020

1:Talk about the first time you watched your favorite movie. My favorite movie is Scream, and it started when I saw the midnight premier of Scream 4 with my dad back when I was in 8th grade, then Scream 1 came on AMC late on night and I just really like it

I still think Scream is one of my favorites, but Halloween has jumped up there just because I am obsessed with all things horror really lol. I started to love Halloween because of the new trilogy.

2:Talk about your first kiss. It’s really not that interesting but really like embarrassing. It was with my first boyfriend and I had just turned 15 and we were at the school just walking around and we went into the band hall and I was like ok im leaving and he was like wait and we kissed and i was like o

the same ! 

3:Talk about the person you’ve had the most intense romantic feelings for. I never really have had intense feelings for anyone. I d k

One my exes- I mean we were dating for awhile so that’s pretty intense to me. 

4:Talk about the thing you regret most so far. I regret… Nothing really I mean, I have done really bad things in my life, but i don’t regret them

I regret failing like 2 semesters of college lmao and almost dropping out. If i didn’t then I would 1- would have been done earlier and 2- would have already completed a year of grad school but IDK also another is wasting lots of money in 2017-2018

5:Talk about the best birthday you’ve had. The best birthday I’ve had was.. Idk This year was was nice I saw Iggy Azalea in concert, then I celebrated my friends’ birthday then mine and it was just everyone got to get together so ya this year my 18th

For my 21st birthday I went to Portland, Oregon and spent the weekend there and it was pretty and my first time there so it was nice despite what I think about PDX now. I don’t even know what I was doing for my 19 and 20th birthday lol. 

6:Talk about the worst birthday you’ve had. My 17th birthday because I was stuck 2 hours away from home with a bunch of nerds doing a band competition 

That is still probably my worst birthday. I forget to mention that I was gone literally from like 7am to midnight. They werent a bunch of loser nerds, they were my friends, but I still wish I was just at home lol. 

7:Talk about your biggest insecurity. I am skinny, but not fit. If I eat anything I get this like stomach and it makes me so sad. and ever since I got a job I work odd hours and I eat a lot of fast food and I’ve gained 10 pounds in 2 years and I guess i’m insecure about my weight

I am still insecure about my weight, and I probably weight like 5 pounds more than I did when I made this post 5 1/2 years ago. 

8:Talk about the thing you are most proud of. We have band banquets for band, and I only went my sophomore and junior year, and seniors give out awards to underclassmen that are just jokes really, and both years 4 different seniors gave me an award for being the biggest gossip in the entire band and I was proud of that lol

Well since then I have graduated both high school and college. I am proud that I finished college !! A BS in Psych. Proud of myself that I got promoted (in 2017) at my job; i’m proud of myself that I have my own apartment, and blah blah basically just doing regular adult shit. 

9:Talk about little things on your body that you like the most. I like my nose because of how perfectly fixed it is. I also really like my freckles/moles/dark marks idk what they are exactly, but they’re on my face and they look great

I still feel the same way about this, maybe add my eyebrows- they’re not like clean and nice they’re just expression markers on my face that i love.

10:Talk about the biggest fight you’ve ever had. I got into a fight with my old friend Angelica and that was almost 4 months ago and we used to be best friends and now we never talk.

When Janett didn’t talk to me all summer of 2019 because I told our other friend Angel something

11:Talk about the best dream you’ve ever had. I cant remember one 12:Talk about the worst dream you’ve ever had. I can’t remember one

13:Talk about the first time you had sex/how you imagine your first time. The closest thing i’ve had to like sex was being locked in a back of an SUV with a stranger drunk as fuck and naked and its embarrassing

Just awkward and nothing to which I expected. 

14:Talk about a vacation. When I was 16, the high school band took a trip to Hawaii, and all my friends were in band so it was great. We did a lot of things, we toured Pearl Harbor and even played a few patriotic songs on the USS Miss. and our hotel was on Wakiki beach. I went snorkeling in some beautiful water and shit and idk just walked all around Hawaii having a great time omg we got on stage at the Hard Rock Cafe and sang with German people i miss it

Hm that was fun. But I.. went to NY with my ex and that was pretty cool because I literally love New York, and I went to NOLA two years ago (today actually) and got miserably drunk so that was fun too 

15:Talk about the time you were most content in life. Probably just in the middle of junior year when everything and everyone was going with the flow

I feel like 2016 was a very content year because I remember nothing about it. 

16:Talk about the best party you’ve ever been to. Idk which one to talk about the one where I had a lot of fun and risked my life or the one where there was a lot of drama stirred up and drank myself to sadness. 

I haven’t really been to a party? I have gone out and had good times. Really anytime my friends and I go out I am having a good time 

17:Talk about someone you want to be friends with. I am already friends with people I want to be friends with

18:Talk about something that happened in elementary school. I kissed a boy on the back of the head and i told I just fell onto his head

Let me think of another one. Back in like fourth grade my friend was in a wheel chair and his backpack was falling from the back and I was trying to grab it and i was only 3 feet tall i couldnt see over or wasnt paying attention and i crashed him right into the bookshelves at the library. 

19:Talk about something that happened in middle school. A girl was mad at me because idk why lol and she pushed me in the hall way and I fucking flew across that hall on the floor and hit the wall she’s pregnant now

When I was in 5th grade (which is considered middle school in my district) I was standing on the play ground and someone threw a stick at my head and it knocked me the fuck out and I was bleeding from my temple.

20:Talk about something that happened in high school. In Jr. Year I was pulling into the parking lot but I was texting and I accidentally put half my car on grass area near the side walk luckily it was 7am and only one person saw me do it lol

One summer going into our senior year we had a party at Michelle’s house. First of all we were very drunk and Coby’s parents were like we are coming over and we cleaned TF UP so fast and sat on the couch and turned on I Know What You Did Last Summer and his parents were like interesting and and left and then we continued to drink anyways- we started playing truth or dare and my friend Angelica was like I dare u to kiss Anthony (someone I had liked prior) and he wouldnt and we started attacking him and calling him homophobic and hitting him with pillows lmao- him and I are still friend-ish

21:Talk about a time you had to turn someone down. I can’t think of something right now.

Literally anyone on grindr.

22:Talk about your worst fear. I’m afraid of having no career and being stuck doing something I hate and living paycheck to paycheck

Yeah, I’m scared of that still but I.. think just like being broke and jobless. RN with the pandemic we aren’t really working and still getting gov’t assistance, so.  IDK being a real real adult scares me a lot. 

23:Talk about a time someone turned you down. I can’t think of a time :)

One time in like 2016 maybe idk - this dude told me to come over and he lived far like not that far maybe 25 minutes lol far for me anyways I got to his apartment and there was a gate code and i asked him what it was and he didnt answer and it was like 2-3am and nobody was coming in or out and so i was like damn this sucks lmao

24:Talk about something someone told you that meant a lot. Nothing really has meant a lot to me. Everyone tells me the same thing over and over again and its so surface level

I still can’t think of anything but I’m sure the friends I have met since this and my friends Faith, Michelle, Peter, and Alisa have said something supportive that meant a lot to me. 

25:Talk about an ex-best friend. Angelica Ramirez. She was my best friend for only 3 years, but together we went through A LOT of shit. We started out senior year just fine, but she lied about a few things and made a lot of us feel like crap in October. I won’t lie, I do miss her. We have too many memories to just forget, too many funny stories and great adventures. She helped me with too much, and sometimes I think about how I cut her out of my life and I mad a bad choice. But only time can heal things and I have moved on and truly found people that won’t make me mad every 30 seconds. 

Brianna Pajak, I don’t remember anything about her except she was poor and we stopped being friends because she always wanted to fight and be annoying. 

26:Talk about things you do when you’re sick. Lay on bed on my computer and watch TV

I normally just suffer and cry about wishing I was healthy again.

27:Talk about your favorite part of someone else’s body. Their…!!>>>??? 

I must have nice hands and ur nose must be nice too! so nose and hands. lol

28:Talk about your fetishes. none

yeah I don’t have any lol not that I can think of. 

29:Talk about what turns you on. Idk i really like kissing and touching and this is awkward. 

30:Talk about what turns you off. bad breath by

that and ugly/rough hands, acne sorry i know it is natural but, shorter than me lol, white people, long hair on guys, and thats about it i think hm i am single yes 

31:Talk about what you think death is like. I think its like idk its scary tho

um idk i dont like thinking about death because i literally want to cry when i think about it. 

32:Talk about a place you remember from your childhood. I remember being in trees a lot

My step grandma’s a lot because my parents were working and she would watch us. She passed away about a month ago :( 

33:Talk about what you do when you are sad. I usually only tell one person and that person is Alisa and I cry sometimes to her and expect her to make things better and she does thank u

I be doing the same thing, I text someone and that person could really be anyone but it happened the other day and I texted Bri and she was very helpful. 

34:Talk about the worst physical pain you’ve endured. I have no idea, I’ve never broken pulled strained twisted fractures or anything i have no life

I still haven’t done any of that stuff to my body. I also have burn scars but I did not feel those when it was happening. I would just say i guess my wisdom teeth coming in because I did not get them removed. I have 3 out lol.

35:Talk about things you wish you could stop doing. Pushing potential love interests away 

I have had some ‘love interests’ since this post, but it’s been about a year now since and I kind of push away the opportunity of getting close to someone. I also need to stop being a bitch sometimes. 

36:Talk about your guilty pleasures. eating 

I would say idk eating was a stupid answer. 

37:Talk about someone you thought you were in love with. never

I was in love and i didn’t ‘think’ I was in love. I don’t know what you mean by talk about them, they were my partner but we broke up hehe.

38:Talk about songs that remind you of certain people. Fireflies by Owl City reminds me of my 7th grade crush Fancy by Iggy Azalea reminds me of my two friends Michelle and Alisa idk anything else

um Idk. i rly cant think  39:Talk about things you wish you’d known earlier. I wish I would have known that

That it’s okay to tell people you’re struggling lol . That is okay to fail sometimes (school).  40:Talk about the end of something in your life. everything is just about to start

When I ended how to get away with murder I wish I never did I love that show with all my heart. 

[tisfan]

Earth Girls are Easy

@rarepairsevents

Prompt: #8 - Carol comes across a truly lost human on her travels. Darcy was just doing her job when the bifrost went off. Now they’re on the weirdest intergalactic road trip. Bonus points if: bed sharing while mutual pining on an alien planet.

Carol Danvers/Darcy Lewis

Tag: Meet awkward, earth girls in space

Summary - Carol gets contracted to give a Terran a lift home. Cons: the pay sucks, Quill is an asshole, and the Collector’s been giving the girl a place to stay. Pros: She’s damn cute.

“Vers!” Someone bellowed across the Promenade. 

Carol Danvers resisted the urge to immediately blast him. She’d been Vers for a mere six years with the Kree, and working under her own name -- or sometimes Captain Marvel, named after her Kree mentor and friend -- for almost twenty. You’d think some aliens would get the fucking memo already.

“Vers, hi, how are you?”

“Carol,” she said.

“What, no, my name’s Peter--”

“MY name is Carol.”

“Oh, right, okay, yeah, the-- the thing, with the Kree, yeah, you know, I really hate those guys,” Quill said.

“What do you want, asshole?”

“So, like you’re from Terra and I’m from Terra, and I thought, maybe, one Terran to the other, you could do me a little, tiny favor.”

“No.” That was easy. She started to walk away.

(more below the cut)

“Look, no, I’ll give you a cut,” Quill said. He was jogging to keep up with her, because her leave-me-the-fuck-alone stride was pretty damn fast. She had to give him credit for perseverance, but out of a perverse sense of humor, she kept walking until he was out of breath and sweating. He still hadn’t gone away.

“Of what?”

“The job,” Quill said. “Look, I got us a job, and then a really sweet opportunity fell into our laps and--”

“You already made a commitment and then something bigger came along, you can’t do both at the same time, even though you’ve already said you would, and now you’re hoping that I’m an idiot and I’ll do your first job for you, for half the price. Keep dreaming, Star Lord.”

“It’s an easy job,” Quill protested. “Look, you can have seventy percent, consider the other thirty a finder’s fee.”

“I’m gonna break your ‘finder’ right off and shove it someplace unpleasant if you put your hand on me, so don’t,” Carol said. “What’s the job?”

“Just drop this girl off on Terra, okay? She’s super lost.”

It had to be a girl, right? It couldn’t be some white male asshole lost in space that she wouldn’t feel a hint of guilt at neglecting. Carol sighed. “Where is she?”

“Great, you won’t regre--”

“Zzzt. Shut up. The only thing out of your mouth better be a location and the amount of units you’re going to be handing me. Otherwise, I’m gonna blast you into next week, and then you’ll miss out on both jobs.”

“She’s at the Collector’s,” Quill squeaked. “And fifteen Asgardian urus. She didn’t have units.”

“Urus will do,” Carol said, practically. Urus had a better trade value in some of the outer rim systems. “And what, do you not like her? Why leave her there?”

“You said not to talk!” And Quill smacked his faceplate down, clicked his rocket boots, and flew off like a slightly paranoid Dorothy Gale. Asshole. Honestly, Carol was never sure if Quill was an asshole on purpose just because it kept people from having expectations of him, or, if like, his emotional growth had gotten stunted at age eight.

Decided she didn’t care, Carol changed her trajectory just enough to be pointed in the general direction of the Collector’s. 

At least she was one of the few people who could just barge in on him. He wasn’t exactly afraid of her, but she wasn’t afraid of him, either. They were sort of, not quite, equals in a way where both of them thought they’d win if it came to a throw down, and neither of them disliked the other enough to try it.

“Hey Taneleer,” she bellowed, slipping lightly between the displays. “I hear you got a package for me?”

“Do I? I was just thinking I might keep her. Earthlings are so delicate, they just don’t survive very long.”

“Yeah, yeah, your coat is lovely by the way, where did you get it?” She pushed into Taneleer’s personal space. “Give me the girl.”

“Right, one human woman, coming right up--” the Collector said, brushing down his coat, which appeared to, in fact, be alive. Gross. “Miss Lewis, if you please. This is Captain Marvel. She’ll be taking you home.”

The woman who Taneleer coaxed out of the corner was pretty in a coffee-shop, slam poet, studying to be a CPA on the side, and volunteering at the dog shelter on the weekends.

Oh, I am in so much trouble.

“Miss Lewis,” Carol said. 

“Darcy, Darcy is fine, I’m-- yeah, nice to meet you.”

“You can call me Carol.”

Both Taneleer’s bushy eyebrows went up.

So much trouble.

*

“So, you’re a human,” Darcy said. Like when she was walking near Thor -- she never walked with Thor, Thor was a one man show, and sometimes he let other people accompany him -- she had to practically run to keep up. “Do I even want to know how you got to space?”

“I was kidnapped,” Captain Carol Marvel thingie said, not looking around. 

“Lot of that going around, that’s the same thing that Star Guy said, and I know Jane’s been to space a few times, but usually Thor takes her. It’d be nice, I think, if there were some humans who got to space by themselves, don’t you? I feel so-- unadvanced.”

“Humans are, compared to the larger galaxy,” Carol said, “rather primitive.”

“Fuck you. We have great margaritas,” Darcy sniffed. “Around here they have random varieties of ‘we distilled this shit next to our power core and it probably won’t kill you.’”

“I’ll give you that much,” Carol said. “I haven’t been to a decent bar in… well, probably longer than you’ve been alive.”

“You don’t look that much older than me,” Darcy said. She was, however, familiar with gods, and their age issues. Thor was something around fifteen hundred years old, or the rough equivalent of a soccer mom. Of course, by that notion, Loki was all of sixteen or so, and the more Darcy thought about that, the more logical it seemed. Loki had all the sense and restraint of an angry white boy with daddy issues and a gun, and the Asgardians did seem to be the primeval angry white boys.

“Looks can be deceiving,” Carol said, “although, not possibly as old as you’re now thinking. I was born on Earth in 1966, standard planetary time.”

“There is exactly no way you’re twenty years older than I am,” Darcy spluttered. “Not with an ass like that.”

Carol looked over her shoulder. “What’s wrong with my ass.”

“Not a damn thing,” Darcy said. “And I’ve seen Tony Stark up close, so believe me when I say, I know a fine ass when I see one.”

“Tony Stark? Is that supposed to mean something?”

“Iron Man? Earth��s greatest defender? How long have you been gone?”

“Since ‘89, with a brief visit in 1995 to deal with some alien issues.”

“We had aliens back in the 90s? Well, that explains some things,” Darcy said. Really, nothing surprised her anymore.

“Quill is half alien,” Carol said, “and his mom popped out that delightful ass in the eighties or thereabouts. So you’ve had aliens on Terra that I personally know about since the mid seventies. And the Asgardians were there centuries ago. Face it, little green men are a thing, and probably always have been.”

“What even is my reaction to that supposed to be?” Darcy demanded, trotting to catch up, because Carol had stopped listening and was striding off toward… well, Darcy hoped it was her ship, or something. She was used to it, though. Being left behind. Forgotten. She wasn’t very interesting, or very smart, or very beautiful. She was a mostly normal-thank-you-very-much human grad student who was going to have a lot of freaking college loans to pay off. Which was why she kept putting off actually graduating, because at least being Jane’s assistant paid some bills and kept her in kitchen and booze funds.

It also ended up with her being accidentally zotted to the other end of the galaxy when one of Jane’s experiments either went drastically wrong, or incredibly right. Hard to say, and she wouldn’t really know until she got home and found out of Jane had just popped off to a different party of the galaxy. And rest assured that Thor probably knew where she was and went after her. Which, it might not occur to them for a while that Darcy also needed to be rescued.

To be fair, Jane often managed to find trouble when she was out of line of sight, and getting popped of, she might have, for instance, immediately have stuck her pen into some swirly goo and gotten infected with Bad Space Things. You know, just saying.

Not like it had ever happened before.

“So,” she said, when she finally caught up, panting for breath, because, damn, in addition to having a killer ass, Carol also apparently had increased lung capacity. Well, Darcy might be able to make use of that if she was going to entertain the idea of getting funky with a space diva. And she just might consider it. “Sounds like you’ve been missing the bar scene for a while, and maybe a drink or two, and cheese sticks? Want to hit the Applebees when we get back? I mean, I know it’s basic and everything, but I don’t get paid all that often and their happy hour is--”

“Don’t you have fifteen Uru? At least?” Carol stopped walking and Darcy slammed into her, and they engaged in a little rocking back and forth before Carol steadied them out.

“Well, yeah,” Darcy said. “I’ve got hundreds of them, Thor gives them to us all the time for stuff. But there’s no exchange rate on Earth for god-money.”

“How many do you have with you?”

“A hundred or so,” Darcy hedged. She’d told Quill she only had twenty because he’d looked very… untrustworthy.

“Right, we’ll hit up the exchange on our way out of the port,” Carol said. “Minus my delivery fee, of course.”

“Of course. Does that mean yes to a date?”

“If you have a hundred uru, you could probably buy the bar,” Carol said. “So, yes. Date. sounds fun. Do they still do karaoke on Earth?”

“Yass, Queen,” Darcy said, holding her hand up to be high fived and after a moment, Carol seemed to recall the custom. “What’s the exchange rate?”

Carol swiped a few gestures over her wrist, popping up a display holograph, which Darcy would think was really cool if she wasn’t actually in Goddamn space and had seen some actual motherfreaking aliens, thanks very much. “About six and a half to one.”

“Six hundred dollar’s isn’t bad, but it’s hardly buying real estate--”

“Six and a half thousand. To one Uru. So, about half a million dollars, or so, after processing fees.”

Darcy almost stopped breathing. “I have hundreds of those things at home,” she squeaked.

“So, yeah. Date?”

“Date.” She could think about the rest of it later. Like, when she was writing a check to pay off her student loans.

fin 

A/n - in the book, Dorothy Gale had silver shoes, and she could use them to fly, which is what Carol is thinking of here.

Earth Girls are Easy is an 80s movie staring Jeff Goldblum, so... make of that what you will

[igottheissue]

From shit to spectacular

This is a little imagine for @spidey-the-killer-queen after her shit day at class. It was a little rushed at 130 in the morning but ITs fINe. Love you 😍

Pairing: Reader x Dacre Montgomery

Today had been a shit day. It was your first official day of classes for your Master’s degree at NYU. You’d missed the bus, the train was down, and you’d forgotten your wallet. By the time you’d gone back to your apartment, you were already nearly an hour late to your first lecture.

Traffic was shit and your Uber driver wouldn’t shut up. Your headphones busted, and your laptop died. To add onto your already shitty day, Dacre had to stay late for some GQ photoshoot and interview for a five page spread.

You’d made it home and had flopped onto the bed, still fully clothed with shoes on. How were you going to survive the rest of your grad school if you couldn’t even handle the first day? Would the thousands of dollars of debt be worth all this shit? You let the tears soak your pillow as you drifted into a dreamless sleep, not caring that it was still daylight out.

You kicked out unexpectedly at something tickling your bare foot. A loud, obnoxious grunt brought you to full consciousness. You lazily rolled over and let one eye stay closed as you looked down your body at your boyfriend.

“Hey baby, how was your first day at big kid school?” You let Dacre pull off your other shoe and sock, staying quiet.

“I was a bit worried when you didn’t return my call. But now I see you have just worked so hard.” Dacre moved up your limp body and with no help from you, pulled your jeans down your legs. He left little kisses up your legs, and you slightly pulled away.

“Baby, what’s wrong?”

“I haven’t shaved.”

“You know that doesn’t bother me. Long as those leg hairs don’t get longer than mine.” His wink and grin almost brought a smile to your face but you just couldn’t convince your muscles to move.

“Okay, now I know something is wrong. Because I’m extremely hilarious. That’s why you’re dating me.”

“I’m just not in the mood, Dacre.” He backed off a bit and looked at you. His brow was heavy over his steel blue eyes as he let them admire you. Your slightly hairy legs, old band tee, and spider-man underwear. When your eyes met, his worried brow disappeared.

“Tell me what happened, love. I can’t help if I don’t know what to fix. Who do I have to kill?”

“I just had a shit day and if I start talking about it I’m gonna cry and I don’t want to annoy you because I know you had a longer and harder day than I did and I just feel guilty because you work so hard and I don’t have a job and you’re paying for literally everything and I just. UGH.” You didn’t take a breath until you finished your sentence.

“My day wasn’t that hard, I got to brag about you to the interviewer. And every time the weird photographer told me to give sex eyes I just imagined you.” You smiled softly at his last statement. He had ignored the comment about him paying for most of your expenses.

You’d had this conversation before. He wanted to support you so you could achieve your dream. After all- he always brought up- you’d supported the two of you when he was a struggling actor, put off your schooling to work three jobs while he was still up and coming.

“Tell you what, you tell me about your shit day, and I’ll give you the inside scoop on what I told the interviewer. The article won’t be out until next week. You can gossip with all your friends.” You sighed and let Dacre pull you into his arms. You leaned back and listened to his strong, steady heartbeat for a moment before you started.

“I woke up late, missed the bus. The train was fucked up for some reason. Then I forgot my fucking wallet and had to turn around because I didn’t pack a lunch and didn’t have any cash on me. So then, once I came back, I called an Uber and traffic fucking sucked, and then my phone and my laptop died. So I had to ask a total complete stranger to email me her notes. It just- fucking sucked! I’m not even sure I want to get my masters after today.” You smacked Dacre on the arm as his rumbling laughter came from behind you. You roughly wiped tears from your face.

“That does sound like a horrible day, baby. I’m so sorry. But-“ Dacre gently unraveled from behind you and went to the closet. You moved to the edge of the bed and sat cross-legged, watching your boyfriend sort through his suit jackets. After a moment, he bowed his head and took an audible breath before letting it out slowly. He turned around, hiding something behind his back and walked up to you. He kneeled down in front of you and kissed you.

“This was supposed to happen in a much more romantic way, in Long Island this weekend, but seeing as you had a shit day...” He pulled his hands from behind his back and opened a tiffany blue box with Cartier embossed in silver on the top. You suddenly forgot how to breathe.

“Y/N. You are my absolute world. Without you, I’d never be able to do what I do. Every time I get down, you pick me up, no questions asked. I couldn’t imagine my life without you. Even on the days when I’ve done something to piss you off, you light up my world.

“If you want to quit school and just be my arm candy, I’d be happy. But I think you’d look amazing with a grad cap on your gorgeous head. I really don’t care what you choose, as long as it’s with me, with my ring on your hand.” You sat there... staring at the absolute unit in the small box.

“Do I have to say the actual words, or?” You shook yourself and immediately started crying and shaking.

“Yes.”

“Er- ok, baby, will you mar-“

“No, no. I mean- yes I’ll marry you, you spoon.” Dacre smiled wide and slid the ring on your finger. Both of you were crying now, and hugging. And kissing. You finally pulled yourself away and held him at arm’s length.

“Wait, so some stranger knew that you were gonna propose to me before I did?”

“I mean, I asked your dad too! Plus, you’ll have to get used to strangers finding all our dirty secrets out if you’re gonna be Mrs. Montgomery.” You smiled as wide as you could, shaking your head at this grown ass man-child.

“I love you.” You didn’t hide the laughter in your words.

“I love you too baby.”

[leisurelypanda]

Daddy!Steve verse...Steve ties Bucky to the coffee table where everyone tried to pick up Thor’s hammer during AoU. Puts an announcement out that Bucky free game the whole weekend. EVERYONE comes to fuck Steve’s little boy. Male, female, human, God, Fury, and Wanda’s power.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/18624583

@stuckysheart

Bucky felt Steve shift behind him before he felt the kiss against the back of his neck. The bristles of Steve’s beard scratched his skin, but they didn’t move any lower. He snaked a hand around Bucky’s front and ran it over his stomach. Steve’s movements were slow and lazy, perfect Sunday morning sleepy affection. Bucky smiled and sighed happily.

His back was sore from the lashing he’d received a couple days ago. Much to his surprise, Bucky found that there actually was some measure of truth to what people said about submission being a kind of escape. His anxiety was relentless, lately. He had one month left before a decision would be made about whether he’d stay on with Stark Industries permanently.

On Friday night, Bucky was so wound up that Steve had tied him to the bed and gone to town on his ass and back. For the ass, Steve had used a belt. For the back, Steve had chosen a flogger. It hurt. It burned and Bucky had cried and yelled until his ass and back were covered in welts and bruises. And then Steve had come around, wrapped a hand around Bucky’s cock and whispered sweet praise until Bucky came and it was the most intensely satisfying experience Bucky had ever had.

The fact that the welts and bruises took a couple days to clear up made Bucky feel a little proud. Just like the hickeys Steve left on his body, he saw them as trophies, of a sort. There was a certain comfort and thrill in knowing that Steve had left marks on him.

Behind him, Steve hummed as he kissed Bucky’s neck and shoulders softly. His hands wandered over the expanse of Bucky’s body. They never wandered over any erogenous zones, but they felt good nonetheless.

“Morning, Daddy,” Bucky sighed. He felt Steve smile against the crook in his neck as he sucked gently on the skin there. Bucky gave a soft, breathy moan at the feeling.”

“Morning, baby,” Steve replied. “Got any plans for today?”

“This feels nice,” Bucky replied. “Been thinkin’ of getting my hair cut, though.”

“Really?” Steve asked. He moved Bucky onto his back and started kissing his collarbone. “Why’s that?”

“I’ve had this for a while,” Bucky said. “Sorta getting tired of the maintenance, you know? Want something different.”

“How much you thinkin’ of gettin’ rid of?” Steve asked. Bucky wrapped his arms around Steve’s body as Steve’s caged him in, making him feel safe and secure and loved. He ran them across the smooth, muscled plains of Steve’s back as he considered the question.

“I’m thinkin’ a lot,” Bucky replied. “Like, short. Might shave, too.”

Steve grinned. “You wanna look all cute and innocent for Daddy, baby?” he asked. “Never seen you clean shaven before.”

Bucky grinned and his hands wandered down to rest just above the curve of Steve’s ass. He felt Steve growl softly against him as he sucked on Bucky’s clavicle.

“You can only take my virginity once, you know,” he said. Steve chuckled against him.

“Ever heard of role playing?” he asked. “I can take it any times I feels like it, doll.”

Bucky arched against Steve’s body. “Fuck,” he murmured.

“Maybe later,” Steve said. “Just wanna love on ya a bit for now.”

“Sounds nice to me,” Bucky replied. Steve hummed in thought.

“Could take a razor elsewhere, you know,” he mused. “Could shave your whole body, have it all nice and smooth for me.”

Bucky’s breath hitched and his cock started to harden. He moaned as Steve continued kissing along his chest as though he’d said nothing out of the ordinary.

“Your whole body, from your legs to your arms and your chest, even your ass,” Steve murmured. “All soft and smooth for me.”

Bucky squeaked and Steve laughed. “You like that, huh? Well, I guess I have some plans for today, too.”

It was almost noon by the time they managed to get to the barber’s office. Steve dressed incognito. Sweaters and coats that hid his body and a hat with sunglasses that obscured his face. It was a necessary part of going out. Bucky didn’t mind. Steve’s celebrity status made it difficult to be himself in public and Bucky was honestly not ready to deal with the media finding out about their relationship. He wanted to savor the privacy a while longer.

Bucky’s hair, thankfully, was easier to style than some other types of hair. It was neither completely silky and straight, nor thick and course. The hair stylist knew what she was doing, too. He had Steve wait outside. He wanted to surprise him with what he ended up with.

In less than an hour, his hair went from shoulder length to not even covering his ears. His hair was styled up in a curl on top of his head, but short on the sides. He looked smart and professional and every bit the young guy he was. Part of the reason why he’d decided to shave and cut his hair was he thought it aged him a bit. Maybe having a different kind of look where he didn’t look like he’d gone through a war (aka college and grad school).

After he’d paid and tipped the stylist, he stepped outside. Steve turned to him and Bucky smiled as he saw Steve’s eyes go dark. He pulled Bucky close and kissed him fiercely. Bucky moaned into the possessive kiss and clung to Steve’s body.

“You look so pretty, baby,” he said.

“You think so?” Bucky asked, coy and blushing.

“I know so,” Steve said. He kissed him again. “Prettiest little boy Daddy’s ever seen.”

“Wanna go home, then?” Bucky asked. “Can’t shave me out in public, you know.”

Steve chuckled. “A shame, too,” he said. “Gotta wait to make your body all soft for me.”

Jesus, he’s really into this, Bucky thought. It was exciting, though and he practically dragged Steve to the car when they left.

There was something oddly erotic and exciting about standing naked in a bathroom with Steve standing by the counter with a variety of shaving tools at his disposal. Bucky briefly wondered where Steve had gotten them and how long it had been since he used them, because Steve’s beard, while neat, was definitely a beard.

Thankfully, Bucky had never really grown much in the way of chest hair. His torso and back were naturally smooth and hairless, so Steve didn’t pay much attention to them. The rest of his body was another story. Steve took a trimmer on the lowest setting and just like that, the hair on his arms and armpits were cut short. Next were the legs, which took a little longer as the hair was a little thicker there. When Steve was done trimming, he took a razor and cream and shaved the rest.

Bucky went to move, but Steve stopped him.

“Not done yet, baby boy,” he purred. Bucky shot him a pointed look.

“Where else is there for me to shave?” he asked. Steve glanced down pointedly and Bucky shivered.

“Relax,” Steve said. “I’m not gonna let anything bad happen. Just stand still.”

“Easy for you to say,” Bucky grumbled.

“I’ll give you a nice treat if you take the rest of this without complaint,” Steve offered. Bucky nodded.

“Just get it over with,” he said. “At least you have a better view.”

Steve smiled gently and took the trimmer to Bucky’s bush. He did just as he had with his arms and legs, but slower and more careful. Then he applied a lot of cream to Bucky’s balls and shaved them. Bucky kept himself utterly still as he did so. Finally, finally, the last thing was Bucky ass, which Steve did not touch. Instead, he went about cleaning Bucky up.

“Thought you wanted me totally shaved,” Bucky said.

“I do, but I also want it to be done right,” Steve said. “And I don’t know how to properly wax an ass, so we’ll leave it there for now.”

When he was done, Steve’s hands trailed along Bucky’s body. He hummed in wicked delight and Bucky shivered at the lust in the sound.

“So soft,” Steve murmured. He kissed Bucky’s arm. “So smooth for Daddy.”

Bucky preened at the words. Steve left a trail of kisses along his body. He knelt to kiss him, to run his hands over the newly smooth skin. The roughness of the calluses dragged along Bucky’s skin and they felt amazing.

“It’s like you’re a sweet little virgin all over again,” Steve murmured. He looked up, his eyes filled with passion and lust and Bucky’s breath hitched.

“Still not a virgin anymore,” Bucky said.

“Just let me pretend, okay?” Steve replied.

“But I’m not,” Bucky replied, growing annoyed. Steve got up and took a step back.

“You okay, Buck?” he asked. “This didn’t bother you the first time.”

“I’m fine,” Bucky said as he looked away. Steve reached out and took his hand.

“Tell me,” Steve said. Bucky grumbled, but didn’t pull away.

“It’s just… you’ve got so much experience,” Bucky said. “You’re confident and sexy and shit, but I’m… I don’t know what I’m doing half the time. I love having sex with you, I just…”

Steve looked at him for a moment, but Bucky couldn’t finish the sentence.

“You want to have sex with other people,” Steve said.

“No!” Bucky replied quickly. “It’s just… I feel a little weird about you having so much more experience than I do, is all, it’s nothing!”

“Bucky, calm down, it’s okay,” Steve said. Bucky took a deep breath as Steve rubbed his arms gently. “If you want to have sex with other people, I can make that happen.”

…What?

“What?” Bucky asked. “I thought… you said you…”

“I admit, I was role playing a bit the first time,” Steve said. “But… the reason I have so much experience is because I’ve had a lot of sex in the 21st century. Not so much in the 40s.”

Bucky blinked. “What are you saying?”

Steve blushed and rubbed the back of his neck. “The Avengers… have an open sexual relationship,” he said. Bucky blinked again. “I’ve fucked pretty much everyone on the team.”

“So… you’re saying that those crazy tabloid articles that say you guys have crazy sex marathon weekends… are true?!” Bucky demanded.

“Well, no not generally,” Steve said. “But yeah, if we wanted to have sex with each other, we did.”

“And you… don’t have feelings for anyone else?” Bucky asked hesitantly. Steve’s eyes softened and he took Bucky’s face in his hands.

“No, I don’t,” Steve said. “They’re great people, but none of them ever worked out romantically.”

Bucky nodded. “Okay, that’s… something, I guess,” he said. Steve kissed his forehead.

“I promise I haven’t done anything with anyone but you since we’ve been together,” he said. “And if you decide you don’t like it, you don’t ever have to do it ever again.”

Bucky took a deep breath. “You would really be okay with me having sex with other people?”

“With some rules,” Steve said. “You want to talk about them now or later?”

“Now, before I chicken out,” Bucky said.

“You can’t make love to anyone else,” Steve said. “Unless you want for our relationship to include him. If either of us want to have sex with someone else, we need the other’s consent beforehand. If either of us start to feel neglected by the other, we need to say so.”

Bucky nodded. “Okay, that makes sense.”

Steve kissed him again. “You’re my partner, Buck,” he said. “You’re the only one I’m interested in being in a relationship with. The first in… a long time.”

Bucky smiled. “I’ll… think about it, okay?” he said. “It’s not that I don’t’ want to have sex with them, I just… need to get used to the idea, you know?”

Steve nodded. “Take as much time as you need,” he said. “Meanwhile… what do you wanna do now?”

Bucky smiled and ran his hands up Steve’s arms and chest. “Well… I think you were saying something about loving how soft I am, now.”

Steve grinned and his gaze darkened. “Yes. Now I remember.”

It was a couple weeks later when Bucky came back to Steve about this idea. In that time, Thanksgiving had come and gone and Bucky had officially met the other Avengers in a totally normal, non-sexual environment. They were… surprisingly chaotic when they weren’t on TV.

Bucky also received a vaccine from Bruce, who didn’t even seem surprised by the request. He was checked for signs of disease, even though Steve’s serum made him immune to most forms of disease. Bruce was thorough and professional and Bucky walked away with a clean bill of health.

“So… about the thing you mentioned a couple weeks ago,” Bucky said. “The fucking of the Avengers.”

“What about it?” Steve asked, raising an eyebrow as he grinned. “And I’m pretty sure you would get fucked, just so we’re clear.”

“Shut up,” Bucky said. He shoved Steve playfully. “You know what I mean.”

“Yeah, what about it?”

“I think… I’m okay with it,” Bucky said. “But… only if you’re there, too.”

“So you’re talking about a threesome, or do you just want me to be in the room?” Steve asked. Bucky blushed and cleared his throat. “Or… is it something else?”

“I… God this is embarrassing,” Bucky said.

“I promise I won’t laugh,” Steve replied. Bucky looked away.

“I… want you to be the one who… gives me away,” Bucky said. Steve grinned. “You said you wouldn’t laugh at me!”

“I’m not!” Steve protested. He took Bucky’s hands. “I’m just wondering where this came from.”

“I just… I think it would be easier if… you were the one to tell me to have sex with your friends.”

Steve grinned and shifted them around until Bucky was pinned beneath him. There was a dark, feral grin on his face, like Bucky had told him exactly what he hadn’t known he wanted to hear. It made Bucky’s blood burn with desire.

“So baby boy,” Steve growled above him. “Daddy wants you to meet his friends.”

Fuck, Bucky thought. “Yes, Daddy,” he squeaked.

“They’re gonna love you baby,” Steve said. “I know it.”

What Steve had in mind apparently involved rope, a butt plug, and a cock ring. It was a large plug, but if any of the Avengers had something the size of Steve’s dick, Bucky had a feeling it would be good to have such a plug. It was the same area where they’d had Thanksgiving dinner just a week ago, but instead of the dining table, Steve took him to a coffee table. Standing naked in the Avengers common room was… somewhat strange, to be honest, but Bucky’s body thrummed with excitement and anticipation.

“Get on, baby,” Steve said. Bucky knelt on the table and Steve shoved his front down so that his ass was in the air. He tied Bucky’s calves to his thighs, before he also tied his ankles to the table. Finally, Bucky’s wrists were tied behind his back so that he was stuck in either a kneeling or a prostrate position. When he was done, Steve came around and grabbed Bucky’s chin.

“Daddy’s friends will be here soon, baby,” Steve said. “You remember your safewords?”

“Red for stop,” Bucky said. “Yellow for a break.”

“Good. Now, there’s two rules I have for you for tonight,” he continued. “You can’t come. At least, not for anyone but me. And every time someone comes when they have sex with you, you say ‘Thank you, sir.’ Understand?”

“Yes, Daddy,” Bucky said.

Steve smiled. “Good boy. I’ll be right here the whole time,” he said.

With that, he released Bucky’s face and walked over to an armchair directly across from where Bucky was kneeling. He took his phone out and texted for a bit before he set it aside and took out a copy of the New York Times like he was some kind of old person who actually read newspapers.

Bucky somehow managed to keep himself in an upright position, resting on his haunches because it was the only somewhat comfortable position available. He wondered who the first person to show up would be. There was no way of knowing until someone showed up, though.

Perhaps unsurprisingly, Pietro Maximoff was the first one to show up. He appeared in a blur of motion next to Steve. It took Bucky a second to register the fact that someone was there aside from just him and Steve. He sat on the arm of the chair and grinned at Bucky before looking at Steve.

“Steve,” he greeted. “I was surprised to get your text. Is it true?”

“See for yourself,” Steve replied, not bothering to look up. Pietro returned his gaze to Bucky and Bucky blushed. Pietro’s grin grew as he walked slowly over to Bucky. He laid a hand on a bare shoulder and trailed down Bucky’s chest. Bucky’s breath hitched as Pietro’s hand grazed a nipple. His hand wandered further down until it reached Bucky’s half hard cock. Bucky bit back a moan.

“He’s beautiful,” Pietro said. “Where did you find him?”

“At Stark’s party back in May,” Steve said. “He was one of the staff that got invited to the party.”

“Really? And you’ve kept him to yourself all this time?” Pietro asked. Steve shrugged.

“He didn’t seem interested in having sex with anyone else until recently,” he said. He looked up and grinned smugly. “Daddy’s cock kept him satisfied for a while.”

“Any rules I should know about, then?” Pietro asked. “I can’t wait to take him for a ride.”

Fuck, Bucky thought as his breathing hitched. It was like he wasn’t even there, like he was just there to get fucked and nothing else. It was… hotter than he expected it to be.

“He’s not allowed to come,” Steve said. “You’re free to touch his cock and balls, though.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Pietro said.

He turned to Bucky and kissed him. Bucky was surprised for a moment, but kissed him back. He glanced at Steve and saw him nod in approval. He closed his eyes and yielded to Pietro’s mouth. Pietro kissed like it was the end of the world, fast and hot and demanding. He supported Bucky’s body easily before he pulled back and grinned.

“This is gonna be fun,” he purred. He got up on the table and pulled his pants down. His cock sprang free, long and thin and slightly curved. It was all Bucky had time to think before Pietro put the head to his mouth and pushed in. Pietro moaned above him as he fucked Bucky’s mouth in earnest.

“Fuck, your mouth feels so good,” he moaned. He fisted his hands in Bucky’s hair as he thrust into Bucky’s mouth and into his throat. Bucky was glad that Steve’s cock was bigger and that he was used to getting his mouth fucked. It was still hot, though. He moaned around Pietro’s length. “You should share your boy with us more often, Steve.”

Steve hummed. “We’ll see,” he said. “Have to say that I’ve liked having him to myself.”

“Can’t blame you there,” Pietro said with a laugh. His thrusts grew faster and more desperate and Bucky could barely keep up. Bucky stared up at him, at the muscles shifting beneath Pietro’s skintight shirt, the dark blue eyes gazing down at him. “His mouth feels amazing.”

“He’ll be here all night,” Steve said.

“Good,” Pietro said.

He threw his head back and groaned as he slammed his cock all the way into Bucky’s mouth and came down his throat. Bucky moaned at the taste. It was less bitter than Steve’s, but more salty. Pietro sighed as he pulled out, his softening cock slipping from Bucky’s mouth.

“Thank you, sir,” Bucky recited dutifully. Pietro smiled.

“Thank you, Bucky,” he replied. He bent down and kissed Bucky again before he hopped down from the table. He grinned as sauntered for a couple steps and bent down to kiss Steve as well before he ran off in another blur.

“That was… interesting. In a good way,” Bucky said. Steve hummed.

“Glad you enjoyed it,” Steve said. “Wait until you meet the rest of them.”

About 15 minutes later, the elevator dinged and Natasha walked out. Bucky frowned. He wasn’t expecting Natasha to come. She didn’t seem interested in him, though, and sat down on the couch and looked at Steve.

“Got your text,” she said.

“I can see that,” Steve said without looking up. “You should know that he’s not into women.”

“You don’t say,” she replied. “It wasn’t exactly difficult to tell. I just came to see if he was… occupied.”

With that she held her phone up to her ear. “Hey, baby, come down to the common room,” she said. “And bring the puppy.”

“Puppy?” Bucky asked. She smiled slightly but said nothing. Bucky looked at Steve, but he was smiling just like Natasha. Bucky got the feeling that this was a kinky thing. A couple minutes later, the elevator dinged again and Sam and Clint stepped out. Well, Sam stepped. Clint crawled on his hands and knees with puppy ears in his hair and a plug in his ass.

“Hey, Mama,” Sam said. He bent down to kiss her and Clint sat in front of her on his haunches like a dog. He was completely naked, aside from that, while Sam was dressed in a red shirt and black gym shorts.

“Hey, baby,” she said. “Why don’t you take your clothes off? You’re here to have some fun, right?”

“Yes, Mama,” Sam said with a grin. He took his shirt off and Bucky drooled at the sight of his body. He was thick and strong, his chest nearly as impressive as Steve’s. His length, which was only half hard, hung long and thick between his legs. Clint whimpered and Natasha turned her attention to him.

“Hey, puppy, you wanna play with someone new?” she asked.

Sam and Clint looked over at him. Sam’s eyes raked down his body and he smirked. His gaze was dark and honestly, the guy was gorgeous. He was big and broad and his face was just so damn pretty, it hurt.

“He’s cute,” Sam said.

“Can I, Mistress?” Clint asked.

“Yes, puppy,” Natasha replied, ruffling Clint’s hair fondly. “Go play with your new friend.”

Clint grinned and crawled up onto the coffee table. Bucky sincerely hoped that he wasn’t about to get licked. Thankfully, Clint just kissed him. Natasha turned to Sam, who was still standing by Natasha.

“Why don’t you get to know him, baby?” Natasha suggested.

Sam came around behind him and his large, strong hands wrapped around his waist and stroked along his chest. Bucky leaned back and shivered in Sam’s grip. Sam sucked a kiss on Bucky’s neck while Clint kept kissing him. It was… oddly amazing, being sandwiched between two guys who kept kissing him.

“Touch his cock, puppy,” Natasha said.

“Yes, Mistress,” Clint said. Bucky mewled into Clint’s mouth as he obediently wrapped a hand around his cock. He tugged it steadily as his tongue explored Bucky’s mouth. Sam licked and sucked over Bucky’s neck. “Having fun, baby?”

“Yes, Mama,” Sam moaned. “He feels real nice.”

A moment later, Bucky felt Sam’s hands near his ass and he pulled the plug from Bucky’s ass and tossed it aside. His hole was still wet with lube and Sam pressed his dick against him. Bucky moaned loudly as Sam pushed in. He was thick and long, but not as much as Steve. It was still a sizeable cock. He arched his back against Sam’s chest.

“He’s so tight, Mama,” Sam groaned. “So tight and hot.”

“Good boy,” she said. “Don’t hold back, now. He’s used to Steve, he can take it.”

“Yes, Mama,” Sam said darkly. The next moment, Sam slammed his cock into Bucky’s ass hard and Bucky moaned loudly. Sam fucked hard and fast and Bucky groaned. Clint stood up and his cock stood out. It was shorter, but thick and veiny.

“Why don’t you suck the puppy’s cock, baby?” Steve said. “Be a good boy and make him feel good.”

“Yes, Daddy,” Bucky said. He leaned forward and licked up the length of Clint’s cock, trailing the veins until he reached the head. He wrapped his mouth around it and took the length in his mouth.

“How’s he feel, puppy?” Natasha asked.

“So good, Mistress,” Clint moaned. Bucky hollowed out his cheeks and started to suck Clint’s cock more earnestly. He swallowed it down to the root and watched Clint’s dark eyes close as he moaned in pleasure.

“Good boy,” Steve said. “Nat, do you know a 9 letter word for sneaky?”

“Insidious,” she said.

Bucky bobbed on Clint’s cock. Clint’s hands went to his hair and tugged on the curled top that he kept for exactly that purpose. He loved the tugging in his hair as he went down on Clint, who passively received what Bucky gave him. Meanwhile, Sam continued slamming home, hitting Bucky’s prostate with every thrust and Bucky moaned around Clint’s length. His hands gripped Bucky’s hips hard enough to bruise and Bucky loved it.

“I’m close Mistress,” Clint moaned above him. Bucky sucked harder and faster, chasing him towards his climax.

“Not yet,” Natasha said almost casually. Clint whined and Bucky began to lessen his rhythm. Steve cleared his throat.

“Don’t let up, baby boy,” Steve said. “Show him what you can do, make Daddy proud.”

Clint whined again as Bucky obeyed, sucking hard and bobbing quickly on Clint’s shaft, swallowing it down to the root before rising up and swirling his tongue around the head. Clint whimpered and his grip in Bucky’s hair.

“Please, Mistress,” Clint moaned. “I’m close, so close.”

“If you come before I say, you’ll be punished,” she warned. “I’m thinking maybe some CBT. Would you like that?”

Clint swallowed. “N-No, Mistress.”

“Well then, don’t come,” she said. Steve chuckled. Bucky just focused on Clint even as Sam pounded into him relentlessly.

“Fuck,” Sam groaned. “Mama, wanna come, can I come, please?”

“Of course you can, baby,” Natasha said sweetly. “Come whenever you like.”

Clint whimpered and Bucky moaned around the cock in his mouth. He didn’t dare let up. A couple minutes later, Sam grunted and slammed his cock into Bucky’s ass and came. Bucky moaned as he felt Sam’s cock pulse inside him as warm come filled him up. He kissed him gently before he pulled out and Bucky whined at the loss. He popped off Clint’s dick.

“Th-Thank you, sir,” he said, his voice low and gravelly. Sam smiled and kissed him again before he stood up.

“I hope Mama will let me play with you again sometime,” he replied. “You got a nice ass.”

“Would your boy mind if I entertained myself?” Natasha asked.

“Dunno,” he said. “Baby, can Natasha have some fun while you’re here?”

Bucky popped off Clint’s cock again. He was so horny, so lost in arousal, he didn’t really care anymore. He nodded at Steve.

“Need verbal confirmation, baby boy,” Steve said sternly.

“Yes, Daddy, I don’t mind,” Bucky replied. Natasha grinned.

“Good for me, then,” she said, spreading her legs. “Come here, baby boy.”

Sam dropped to his knees in front of her and Bucky went back to sucking Clint’s cock. Clint whined desperately.

“Mistress, please, may I come?” he begged.

“Hush, puppy, Mistress is busy,” she replied, her voice low and thick. She moaned and Bucky tuned it out as he watched Clint. His stomach clenched tightly and his face was screwed up from the effort to not come. “You can come when I’m done.”

Clint whimpered and Steve chuckled.

“You are a cruel woman, Nat,” he said. “Look at him, he’s desperate.”

“He’s pretty when he’s desperate,” she replied. “You could borrow him when he’s done, take care of your… little problem.”

“Maybe. We’ll see,” Steve said. Bucky just kept sucking. A few minutes later, he heard Natasha gasp softly, almost completely inaudible, and release a high moan in, what Bucky’s gay brain assumed was, an orgasm. A second later, Clint gasped and grunted and Bucky’s mouth was filled with his come. He swallowed it down before he took a haggard breath.

“Thank you, sir,” he said. Clint grinned down at him before he got off the table and crawled over to where Natasha and Sam were. Sam had his head in her lap and Steve had actually put his newspaper aside to gaze at Bucky hungrily. He got up and stalked over to him. He ran a finger on Bucky’s chin.

“Missed a bit, baby boy,” he said before putting his finger into Bucky’s mouth. Bucky licked it up eagerly, sucking on Steve’s finger.

“Am I doing good, Daddy?” he asked.

“Yes, baby. Such a good little boy, taking care of Daddy’s friends like this,” Steve purred. “Daddy’s good little slut.”

“Thank you, Daddy,” Bucky said, somewhat breathless.

“You need anything?” Steve asked. Bucky shook his head and Steve kissed his temple before he returned to his chair.

It was about an hour before the next person showed up. Bucky was both glad for the break, and frustrated that Steve was so focused on other things. Like the newspaper crossword puzzle like a fucking nerd. Who did those, anyway? Steve Rogers, apparently, and only while Bucky was getting fucked by someone who was not Steve Rogers. Seriously, he was doing this like it was his hobby, when Bucky had spent 5-6 months dating the guy and had never even seen a newspaper at his apartment.

About hour after Natasha and her subs left, though, who should appear? Tony Fucking Stark. He sauntered into the room as though a naked intern on his coffee table was the least surprising thing he’d seen this week.

“Hey, Stevo!” he said. “Hello again, Buckeroo. Gotta say, I didn’t really expect for him to be into our usual stuff.”

“You complaining?” Steve asked.

“Hardly, he looks good in rope,” Tony replied. His eyes danced with mischief. “Almost as good as I do.”

Bucky swallowed, not quite sure how to respond to that. Tony hadn’t been at the Thanksgiving dinner, so Bucky hadn’t met him yet. He was… just as cocky in person as he seemed on TV. His eyes did drop down to his crotch, though, and gazed at the building erection in Tony’s pants.

“He does, doesn’t he? I should tie him up more often,” he said. Bucky’s cock jumped at the idea of being tied up more. He loved it, especially when he was with Steve. “Anyway, what took you so long? Figured you’d have raced here to fuck someone new to the group.”

“I had to get permission,” Tony said. “Ma’am said that since I don’t actually run the company, there’s no issue with fucking one of the interns, but you know, didn’t want to get sued or something.”

“Of course,” Steve said with a chuckle.

With that, Tony went behind Bucky and pushed him down to the table with his ass in the air. Bucky groaned at the angle and looked at Steve, who was watching with dark interest. He heard pants unzip right before Tony put his cock to Bucky’s hole and pushed in. Bucky moaned as he was filled again with the fourth cock of the evening. He didn’t fuck as quickly or as hard as either Steve or Sam. He was just as good, though, hitting Bucky’s prostate with each thrust. Bucky’s cock strained against the ring around his cock and balls and bit his lip with the effort not to come.

“God, he feels good,” Tony moaned. “Know why you kept him to yourself this whole time. He was born to get fucked.”

“You have no idea, Tony,” Steve replied with a chuckle. Bucky moaned against the cool surface of the table as Tony fucked into him, his length dragging over his prostate as he moved inside his body. Steve just watched, his newspaper forgotten as he pressed his hand against his large erection. Bucky watched as he unzipped his jeans and fished his cock out.

“Daddy,” he whined.

“Hush, baby boy,” Steve said. “Just let Daddy’s friend use your pretty little hole like a good slut.”

“Fuck,” Tony breathed. Steve wrapped his hand around his length and started to stroke himself. He went slowly and Bucky watched every movement. His hand squeezed around the thick length and rose up before twisting around the head and travelling back down.

“Squeeze his dick, little boy,” Steve said. Bucky obeyed and Tony groaned in pleasure as his hips snapped forward. “That’s it, show him what Daddy taught you, baby.”

Bucky squeezed Tony’s dick, felt the hot length fucking into his willing body, grazing against his prostate and sending sparks of pleasure through his body. Tony’s rough, callused splayed across his back, holding Bucky down as they traveled up and down his spine. Bucky kept his eyes on Steve, though.

“How you feelin’, baby?” Steve asked with a grin. He squeezed around the base of his cock and took the top in his other hand. “You like Daddy’s friends? You like being Daddy’s slut?”

“Yes, Daddy,” Bucky moaned. “Feels so good, so hot.”

“Good boy,” Steve said.

“Fuck, that’s so hot,” Tony moaned. His hands went to Bucky’s hips and he gripped them as his thrusts grew more erratic. Bucky tightened around Tony’s cock, half out of pleasure and half out of trying not to come. Tony snaked a hand around and wrapped it around Bucky’s cock and Bucky whimpered at the touch.

“Not allowed to come, huh?” Tony asked. “Yeah, Ma’am likes to do that, too. It’s a pain, isn’t it.”

Bucky nodded and Steve tutted in playful disapproval.

“Now, baby, you like everything Daddy makes you do, don’t you?” Steve asked. Bucky swallowed and nodded again. “But you just said that you didn’t like not being able to come. Which is it?”

“I-I like it, Daddy,” Bucky squeaked quickly. “Hurts, hurts so good.”

“Mmm, that’s a good start, baby boy,” Steve said with a grin. “Keep going.”

“L-Like it when you make me come, Daddy,” Bucky said. “When you make me hold it in, fuck me like I’m your little slut.”

“Good boy,” Steve moaned. “Go on.”

“L-Like it when you don’t let me come while you tease me,” Bucky moaned. He screwed his eyes shut from the effort of holding it in.

“Look at me!” Steve barked. Bucky’s eyes snapped open. “What else?”

“Fuck,” Tony moaned. His thrusts grew faster, but Bucky barely paid attention. He was transfixed by Steve’s hard, demanding gaze.

“Like it when you tell me not to come,” Bucky said. “Don’t’ wanna come, Daddy, want you to make me come.”

“Good boy,” Steve said. He got up and knelt in front of Bucky on the table, his dick hanging low between his legs, heavy and red and thick and wet with pre-come. He picked up Bucky’s body and held him there as he wrapped a hand lightly around his throat before he kissed him hard. Bucky mewled into the kiss. “That’s my good little slutty boy. So eager to please Daddy.”

Bucky nodded.

“God this is the hottest thing I’ve seen in weeks,” Tony moaned. Steve grinned.

“You wanna make Daddy happy, baby?” he asked.

“Yes, Daddy,” Bucky moaned.

“Good,” Steve said. He reached around and untied Bucky’s wrists. Bucky moaned as he moved his aching shoulders and put his hands beneath him. Steve backed up and pushed the front of Bucky’s body down until his mouth was level with Steve’s cock. Then he pushed his cock into Bucky’s mouth. Bucky moaned around the hot, thick length as Steve buried his cock in Bucky’s throat. “That’s Daddy’s good boy.”

Bucky moaned as Steve lost no time in fucking his throat. He matched Tony’s rhythm, taking what he wanted from Bucky. It was all Bucky could do to remember to breathe when he had the chance. His head felt floaty and wonderful as every cell of his body honed in on his Daddy.

“Oh God, fuck!” Tony moaned as he snapped his hips forward again and came in Bucky’s ass. Bucky moaned around Steve’s length and Steve grunted. A couple seconds later, Steve came down Bucky’s throat with a groan. He slipped his cock free of Bucky’s mouth and Bucky slumped against Steve’s chest.

“Well, this was fun,” Tony said. “You two crazy kids have fun, now! Let me know if you ever want to do this again!”

“Thank you, sir!” Bucky called after him. Tony just laughed and sauntered off.

“How are you feeling, baby?” Steve asked.

“My knees hurt,” he said. “I wanna come, but aside from that, I feel okay.”

“You having fun?” Steve asked.

“Yes, Daddy,” Bucky said. “Your friends are… crazy. But good crazy.”

Steve chuckled. “Good.”

“Can I come, Daddy?” Bucky asked. “Been a good boy, right?”

“You have. You’ve been such a good little boy for me,” Steve purred. He reached down and wrapped a hand around Bucky’s cock. Bucky moaned and bit Steve’s shoulder. “Do good boys deserve to come?”

“No, Daddy,” Bucky said. “Good boys wait until Daddy gives them permission.”

“That’s right,” Steve said with a smile. His grip tightened around Bucky’s cock as he stroked it. “You’re gonna be a good boy for Daddy, right?”

Bucky swallowed. “Yes, Daddy,” he whined.

“Good,” Steve said. With that, he got up, tucked his dick back into his pants and sat back down. “Now, do you know a 7 letter word for pain?”

Bucky glared at him. “Torture.”

The most terrifying person in the planet stepped out of the elevator next. Nick Fury was the last person Bucky had expected to show up, but Steve made no move to shield Bucky from the director’s view. He didn’t even look surprised, more like mildly interested in this turn of events. Just how often the Avengers had sex with each other in places other than their rooms, Bucky didn’t know. But he was sure that now that it had happened once, Steve would do it again.

“I was wondering if I would ever run into you Mr. Barnes,” Fury said.

“Liar,” Bucky said immediately. “You know exactly how long Steve and I have been together, don’t you?”

Fury was unfazed by the accusation. He just shrugged. “Well, to be honest, I didn’t really see any reason to meet you before,” he said. “You check out, no known affiliations with foreign powers or terrorist organizations. No real reason.”

“Do you want something?” Bucky asked. Fury raised his eyebrows and looked between Steve and Bucky.

“Little bird told me that there was some fun going on here,” he said. “Don’t get much time for fun these days. Figured I could take a break.”

Bucky looked at Steve, who just shrugged. With that, he came around and Bucky bent down over the table. His hands were still unbound and it made it easier to find some kind of comfortable position. Fury took Bucky’s ass in his hands and laughed.

“Boy, looks like you been fucked good already, don’t it?” he asked. He slapped Bucky’s ass and Bucky yelped at the touch.

“Yes… sir,” he said. Fury smacked his ass again.

“Well, far be it from me to walk away from a good hole like this,” he said. He unzipped his pants and Bucky breathed in before he felt it enter him. Fury rolled his hips against Bucky’s ass, dragging his cock against Bucky’s prostate. Bucky moaned in pleasure and arched his back. Slowly, Fury began to pick up speed and his thrusts became longer and fuck, it was good.

Fury might be old, but he’s got some moves, Bucky thought. His body felt amazing. Fury’s dick grazed over Bucky’s prostate almost constantly, pressing against it so that Bucky saw stars.

“Oh, fuck! Oh, yes!” he cried as Fury’s fucked him long and hard.

“Yeah, you like that, don’t you?” Fury said. Fury pushed him down to the table and fucked down into him and Bucky whimpered loudly in pleasure. Fury groaned above him and kept fucking. “Fuck, your hole is so loose and sloppy, don’t hardly need anything to just fuck right into you.”

“Yes, God, don’t stop,” Bucky begged. Fury slapped his ass again and kept fucking. Bucky squeezed around his long, thick cock. Then, Fury slammed his cock into Bucky’s ass and came. A lot. He pumped his load into Bucky’s ass with a soft moan before he pulled out.

“Needed that,” Fury said. “Back to it, though.”

“Thank you, sir,” Bucky said. Fury turned around and nodded before he walked off. Bucky turned to Steve. “Is he always like that?”

“No,” Steve said. “Most days he’s worse. Must be in a good mood.”

“Why’d you invite him?” Bucky asked.

“Well, one, because you wanted to have sex with other guys,” Steve said. “So I texted the people I knew who would be open to something. Two, he’s got moves.”

“Yeah, he does,” Bucky replied.

Next came the youngest Avenger, Peter Parker. He arrived in uniform, too, so when Bucky saw Spiderman drop down from the ceiling, he nearly died of excitement. A kid from the middle of a poor area of Queens becoming a hero and local icon? Bucky loved it.

And he was adorable. Slim, younger than him by a couple years, with a round face and warm, brown eyes. He smiled at Bucky before he kissed him and Bucky eagerly kissed him back. Peter was gentle and sweet and it was a nice change of pace from the other hard, kinky folks who had fucked Bucky today.

“So what do you wanna do?” Peter asked. Steve actually laughed.

“You know you can do whatever you want, Peter,” he said. “He’s tied up, he’s fine with anything.”

“Yeah, but it’s nice to ask, right?” Peter replied. Bucky grinned.

“He’s right, whatever you wanna do, I’ll do,” Bucky said. Peter reached around and cupped Bucky’s ass.

“Damn, nice,” he said. Bucky moaned as he kneaded his ass. “Your ass is fuckin’ great, man.”

He reached around and pressed at Bucky’s hole. Bucky moaned as the fingers entered him easily. They squelched softly as they encountered the messy mix of lube and come that resided there.

“Fuck, that’s hot,” Peter said. “How many guys have you had?”

“Three in my ass,” Bucky said. “Four in my mouth.”

Somehow, that made Peter’s eyes darken. He got up and shucked his uniform to the floor and stripped somewhat clumsily out of his clothes. His boxers were stained with pre-come and his dick was hard. Bucky could tell it was thick, with decent length. Kinda like Clint’s. When it came down, it had a distinct rightward curve. Peter came around Bucky pressed his fingers to Bucky’s ass again.

“Fuck, can’t wait to feel you,” Peter murmured. He kissed Bucky’s neck as he pressed his cock into Bucky’s waiting hole. Bucky’s hole made wet, squelching sounds as Peter fucked into him, but for some reason, it was also really hot. Peter’s hands wandered over Bucky’s chest and teased his nipples. Bucky moaned and arched his back against Peter’s body.

“Fuck, don’t stop,” Bucky moaned. “Please, Peter, fuck me, please.”

“God, you feel so damn good,” Peter moaned.

He moved slowly and gently at first, drawing out the moans and sounds from Bucky’s ass. Steve watched them, his eyes dark and hungry as they moved against each other. Bucky half expected him to join in, but he simply stayed there. He leaned back in his chair with his legs spread and his dick tenting his pants prominently with his head propped on one hand and the other slowly moving over his length.

“Fuck,” Bucky moaned. He squeezed around Peter’s length to keep from coming and Peter moaned. He went slowest of the men who’d used Bucky’s ass, like he was savoring the sloppy seconds of Bucky’s ass like they were the best thing on earth. He reached back and pulled Peter deeper inside him. “More, Peter, please.”

“You got it,” Peter moaned. His thrusts grew faster, but stayed gentle. It was a nice change of pace. Bucky angled his face and Peter kissed him hot and open mouthed. His tongue slid along Bucky’s with the same gentleness. Bucky moaned and tightened again around Peter’s length.

“Daddy, please, can I come?” Bucky asked.

“Can you come?” Steve replied. He hummed thoughtfully. “What do you think, Peter?”

“It’d be nice of you to let him come,” Peter said. “It would definitely feel nice.”

“I bet it would,” Steve replied. “Baby, you may come when Peter comes. If you don’t… well, guess you’d have to wait then.”

“Fuck, yes,” Bucky cried. Peter kept fucking him, went faster, the squelching sounds in Bucky’s ass filled his ears, but he couldn’t think of anything but how desperate he was to come. “Come on, Peter. I’m close, let me come, please.”

“Oh, fuck,” Peter moaned. He wrapped a hand around Bucky’s cock and Bucky moaned into his mouth. Peter’s thrusts grew faster, more erratic. He moaned and sighed into Bucky’s mouth… and Bucky felt his cock pulse as he came inside him. Bucky released the walls he held up and cried as he came, his come shooting out onto the table beneath him.

“Thank you,” Bucky breathed when he was done. He slumped, utterly boneless. Peter supported him easily. “Thank you, sir, Peter… thank you.”

“Anytime,” Peter said. “Seriously, I mean, this was fun, so definitely want to do this again.”

Bucky chuckled and kissed Peter again before Peter slid out of Bucky’s ass and gathered up his clothes. He jogged to the elevator and waved at them before going up.

“I like him,” Bucky said.

“I’m not surprised,” Steve replied. “Think you made a friend?”

Bucky smiled and nodded. “Thank you for letting me come, Daddy,” he said. Steve chuckled.

“Don’t thank me just yet,” he said. “There are still a couple more people who haven’t fucked you yet. You might not get to come again.”

For some reason, Bucky’s cock twitched at that thought.

He heard the next person before he saw him. He was loud and cheerful and boisterous. When he arrived, Thor drew Steve into a fierce hug. He clapped him on the back and all Bucky could do was gape. Thor was even bigger than he looked on TV. Bucky always assumed that the camera just made him look bigger, but maybe people edited him to look smaller out of fear of what a man his size would be capable of in the imaginations of thirsty bastards everywhere.

Well, Bucky’s imagination anyway.

“It is good to see you again, Steven,” Thor said with a smile. “I am glad to see you are well, it has been too long.”

“Good to see you, too, Thor,” Steve said. “How are the Nine Realms?”

“They are safe and all is well,” Thor replied. “I have some time to be here and help with whatever arises here on Midgard for a while.”

“Good, we’ve missed having you around,” Steve said, a suggestive smile on his face. Bucky had a feeling that Bucky wasn’t the only one in the Tower who had thirsty thoughts about Thor. He could hardly blame anyone for it. Thor was even more sex on legs than Steve was.

Thor looked at him and Bucky’s hole quivered just from that. His eyes darkened as his gaze took Bucky in. Then he smiled and Bucky thought he would melt into a puddle right then and there.

“You have acquired a submissive,” Thor said. “He is lovely. What is your name, boy?”

Fuck me, Bucky thought. “Bucky Barnes, sir, uh, I mean, Your Highness, er… Mr. God of Thunder… sir.”

“Thor is fine, Bucky,” Thor replied with a chuckle. “Or Master if you consent to entertain me.”

“Fuck,” he murmured. He wanted this man to fuck him so bad.

“So, shall I assume from the boy’s… compromised position that he is free for the taking?” Thor asked, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“He is indeed,” Steve asked. “As long as I stay here and watch.”

“Well, I believe I shall help myself, then,” Thor said with a wide smile. He walked over and petted Bucky’s hair gently before he pushed Bucky to his hands and knees. Steve sat back down in his chair.

“Daddy?” Bucky said.

“Yeah, baby?” Steve asked.

“Can I suck your cock while Thor fucks me?” Bucky asked. “Please?”

Thor chuckled, his callused his hands stroking Bucky’s sides before they reached his ass and squeezed. Bucky moaned.

“It is pleasing how eager he makes such a request,” Thor said. “He is well trained. What say you, Steven?”

Steve smiled before he got up and knelt in front of Bucky’s face. He unzipped his pants and took his cock out.

“I can never deny my baby boy anything when he asks so sweetly,” he purred. “Well, not now, anyway.”

Thor chuckled and Bucky felt the broad head of Thor’s cock at his entrance. He froze.

“Fuck me,” he breathed. Steve chuckled.

“As you wish,” Thor purred. He pushed in and Bucky gasped. Thor was fucking huge. Definitely bigger than Steve. If it weren’t for the fact that Bucky had been getting fucked all day, this would probably be nearly impossible. As it was, it was a bit of a stretch for him.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he gasped. Steve smiled sympathetically.

“Just relax, baby boy,” Steve said. “He’s a lot to take, I know.”

Bucky definitely wanted to hear Steve talk about the time he got dicked down by the god of Thunder. Later. He took a deep breath as Thor pressed further into him. Steve pet his hair, told him to breathe as Thor continued his slow, steady penetration.

When Thor finally bottomed out, Bucky gasped. His skin was covered in a layer of sweat. He clung to Steve’s body and Steve held him in turn. Thor was still. Bucky concentrated on breathing, since there wasn’t much else he could do.

“What do they feed you on Asgard, anyway?” Bucky demanded.

“Many things,” Thor replied. “I am considered large even there.”

Bucky huffed. “Why is that not surprising?”

Thor chuckled. “Let me know when you are ready, boy,” he rumbled. “I wish to make this pleasurable for us both.”

Bucky nodded and kept his eyes on Steve. Steve looked down at him and smiled. Bucky could swear he could see a glimmer of pride and approval in his eyes. Bucky shifted up and kissed him. Steve returned it softly.

“Still want my cock, baby?” Steve asked. Bucky chuckled.

“Maybe… maybe next time,” he said.

“Good boy,” he murmured. “Daddy’s good little boy. You’re doing so well, baby.”

Bucky preened at the praise and turned his head to look at Thor out of the corner of his eye.

“I’m ready,” he said.

Thor hummed and began to rock slowly into Bucky’s ass. Bucky whimpered and trembled in Steve’s arms as he felt Thor’s cock move inside him. He still felt like he was being split open, but damn if it send sparks of pleasure amidst the pain up through his body. It was the most amazing mixture of pain and pleasure he’d ever felt. He whimpered and moaned and Steve just held him.

“So tight,” Thor murmured. “He feels so good around my cock.”

“His ass is amazing, it’s true,” Steve replied.

“A shame you found him first,” Thor said. “I should like to have been the one to tame him.”

Steve laughed at that and ruffled Bucky’s hair. Thor slowly started to increase the length of his thrusts, the thick length creating near constant friction against Bucky’s prostate as it pressed against it. Bucky moaned desperately as Thor began to fuck him in earnest.

“Daddy, please can I come when Thor’s done?” Bucky asked. “Please, Daddy?”

“Of course, baby,” Steve said. “You’ve been so good. Daddy’s so proud of you, baby.”

Bucky mewled at the praise and pushed back against Thor’s thrusts. Thor gripped his hip in one hand and with the other, he grabbed Bucky’s hair. Bucky moaned loudly as Thor’s thrusts grew harder. He gasped as he felt Thor’s hips slap against his with each thrust. The only thing he could think about was how good it felt, how much it hurt, how every cell in his body just screamed in unbridled pleasure. Lightning danced over his skin, making him feel alive, see stars, and his head spin.

Thor grunted and growled and groaned as he shot his load into Bucky’s ass. Bucky moaned as Thor’s hot, thick come filled his ass. Thor fucked him through his orgasm. As soon as Thor was done, Steve wrapped a hand tightly around Bucky’s cock and in a few short strokes, Bucky came in his hand, his ass tightening around Thor’s still hard cock.

He was dimly aware of Thor pulling out of his ass. He slumped boneless and spent in Steve arms.

“Red,” he breathed. “I’m done.”

“Good boy. Thor, could you untie his ankles from the table for me?” Steve asked.

“Of course,” Thor replied. Bucky sighed happily as his legs were freed. “I must say I enjoyed this immensely. I wish you both a pleasant evening.”

“See ya,” Steve said.

Then he scooped Bucky up and walked to the elevator. They went back up to Steve’s apartment. It was late, Bucky was hungry, sweaty, tired, and sated. Steve took him to the bathroom and lowered him into the tub gently as he filled it with warm water and orange and ginger scented bubbles. He cleaned Bucky tenderly before he stepped in with him. He sat behind him and wrapped his arms around Bucky’s body as he held him close.

“You did so good today, baby,” he murmured. “I’m so proud of you.”

“Thank you,” Bucky sighed.

“Did you have fun?” Steve asked. “That was a lot for you to do in one day.”

“I did,” Bucky replied. “But… maybe not all the time. You’re enough for me most of the time, Daddy.”

Steve smiled and kissed his hair. Bucky closed his eyes and relaxed into the comfort of Steve’s body and affection.

[yaachtynoboat711]

Fonder Ch. 4

A/N: Aight so boom: I hope y’all are enjoying this series so far. It’s definitely pushing me out of my fluffy comfort zone. Thanks to everyone who I’ve annoyed had be my third pair of eyes and offered suggestions for these chapters. I appreciate y’all big time. Also, I apologize for the two-week gap between the chapters. I just started school after a semester break, so I’m trying to get adjusted and find my rhythm. Thanks in advance for being patient!

Word Count: ~2.9K (a hair lengthy)

Warning(s): Angst, slow burn, plot progression

Thursday, October 23, 2014, 2:19 p.m., Elements Natural Hair Boutique, Los Angeles

Since she was finally finished with the nearly four month long legal project, Yaa now had a little over a week left in sunny California to do whatever she wanted. Tonight was her self-appointed reward for knocking the project out of the park and earning more clients. The Los Angeles chapter of the Black Yale Alumni Association was hosting their annual fundraising gala. All the BYAA chapters hosted their events the same weekend, the Connecticut event being the flagship event. Around this time last year, Yaa was preparing her ensemble for the Black Ball, totally oblivious to the fact that she would meet her soulmate at the Ball. What a difference a year makes.

“So, who are you taking as your plus one tonight?”, her loctician Nadia inquired as she intricately palm-rolled Yaa’s copper hued locs.

“Matt.”, Yaa announced giving a smirk as she kept reading the latest issue of Essence Magazine. Nadia’s eyebrows went up as she smirked.

“Damn hussy. Speaking of exes, how’s it going with you and Island Boy?”

“Things are getting...better.”

Since her breakdown, Khalida had seen a therapist. Her therapist recommended that for her sake,it’d be best to talk to Winston and try to establish a sturdy friendship. They planned to meet the afternoon after the Yale gala.

“Word? I’m happy for you, sis. Even more, you deserve someone in your life. Shit, you got the personality, smarts, and the looks to have niggas running over each other to get to you.”

Yaa spent the time under the dryer to think about what her loctician said. Her deep thoughts were interrupted with an incoming FaceTime call from Matt.

“Hey, lil ugly.”, Matt playfully chided.

“Well, if it isn’t the NECKS big thing in football. What’s good?”, Yaa snapped back. Matt’s jaw dropped when he finally processed her insult.

“Damn, fuck you, Khay. Anyways, I called to see where we would get ready at? My house or yours?” She almost didn’t hear the last question because she was snickering so.

“Well, according to the GPS, it’s in Calabasas, so I’ll be coming to you. My makeup cases are in the car now and I’m picking my dress up on the way.”

Matt shook his head, “Say less, ma. You getting those serpents tamed for the gala, I see.” He thought that the funniest thing in the world. Before he could say anything else, she hung up. I ain’t got time for his no-neck having ass.

5:00 p.m., Calabasas, California, Matt’s House

Yaa was welcomed into Matt’s spacious mansion with the sounds of hip-hop bouncing off the walls and an excited Matt embracing her.

“You look like you getting ready to fight somebody.”, Matt commented as he took the garment bag from his ex-girlfriend’s arms. She wore her smaller black bonnet, along with a Tuskegee shirt, black yoga capris, and Birkenstock’s.

“And you look like you can’t change a goddamn pillowcase. I keep telling you to leave well enough alone, Griffith.”, she replied as she gave him the “Who gon check me, boo?” look. He shook his head as he led her upstairs to his bathroom.

——

The lion-like revving of Matt’s Karma Revero engine could be heard all along the winding Calabasas back road he decided to take to the gala. He effortlessly finessed the bends and sharp turns of the road in an effort to impress Yaa. He’d had the car for not even a month and was already showing off. He occasionally glanced at the meal that sat in his passenger seat.

“I think I already told you, but you lookin’ hella delicious, ma.”, Matt complimented.

“Why, thank you, Matthew. I try to be as fresh as you.”, she humbly replied.

He took her hand into his and smiled before kissing it. “What’s that perfume you got on? It’s intoxicating.”

“Your cologne.”, she stated bluntly. The two looked at each other and laughed obnoxiously.

“You never cease to amaze me after all these years, Khay. I’m gonna miss you when you leave.”

“Nigga, I ain’t dying. Ima be around when and if I can. R E L A X.”

8:49 p.m., Calabasas Country Club

If you didn’t know that this was an alumni fundraising gala, most would assume that it was an actual Hollywood event. The sound of camera shutters, camera people shouting at those melanated beings gracing the carpet, and the numerous interviews being conducted at the end of the carpet set the vibe of the night. Once again: Black Excellence.

Matt parked his car in front of the country club, he tossed the keys to the valet before reaching for his velvet maroon blazer. Before the valet driver could get in, he stopped him. “Hold on, boss. I got precious cargo in the passenger seat.” He ran over to Yaa’s side where he slowly opened her door. She offered her hand and he helped her out of the car, gathering her train with his other hand.

The BLUE carpet went up the moment Matt Griffith and his date walked onto the carpet. He held Yaa close to him by her waist as they went down the carpet once more as a duo.  She followed suit by tickled his side, causing him to laugh.

“You gon stop, ma’am.”, he warned as she joined in his laughter.

————

Winston was wary of bringing Michelle to the gala. Not because she wasn’t Black, but he was nervous Yaa would show up looking like God’s divine example of perfection. For the small amount of time Winston and Michelle dated, he never divulged the details of his previous relationship with her. For one, it still hurt to talk about the biggest mistake he’d ever made; and two, he feared Michelle would get extremely jealous. Truthfully, Winston hoped Yaa would be there; he wanted to talk and possibly get closure.

“Winston, is Lupita coming?”, Michelle asked shaking Winston out of his thoughts.

“Uhhh...last I checked, she should be here now.”, he replied.

“Is your mysterious ex coming?”

He throat tightened and palms began to sweat. “I doubt it; she’s in D.C. by now. Why?”

“I mean, from the little you’ve told me about her,  she’s a Yale grad and a traveler. Speaking of, why don’t you talk about her?”, she folded her arms in anticipation of the answer.

He probably wasn’t in reality, but he felt like he was sweating bullets. “It’s just that...the relationship could’ve ended on better terms.”, he sighed, “I just need closure, is all. I’ve been spending this time processing everything. I think I’m good now.” He was lying like all hell.

Winston felt a presence in the room. He and Michelle migrated around the venue talking and socializing with the other Black Yale grads. While in a conversation with one of his classmates and Lupita, he heard a laugh. Not just any laugh; the only vibrant, contagious social laugh he could recognize from miles away. Once again, it was her. He resisted the urge to look for her.  

Noticing her friend’s sudden switch in energy, Lupita turned around to see a foxy Yaa dazzling for all to see. She excused herself from the conversation and walked over to Yaa. She tapped her shoulder.

“Heyyyyy, Khalida!”, Lupita greeted with a grin and open arms.

“Well, hello there, Ms. Academy Award Winner! I’m surprised you’re not like polishing your Oscars or filming.”, Yaa joked as she returned the hug. “You look phenomenal, Peet!”, she twirled Lupita around to get a better look of her blue ensemble.

“Not as phenomenal as you! Wow, you know how to slay anything and I’m here for it!”

Matt cleared his throat. “You need a cough drop?”, Yaa asked in a sarcastic tone. He gave her a look.

“I’m sorry. I forgot he was here. Lupita, this is my ex, Matt Griffith, NFL star. Matt, this is the most beautiful woman in existence and Academy Award-winning actress, Lupita Nyong’o.”

After their exchange of pleasantries, Lupita took Yaa to the side to inform her that Winston was also in attendance...with Michelle. As much as it hurt to hear those words come from Lupita’s mouth, Yaa sucked it up and the two returned to Matt.

“We’re going on a field trip, Matt. Come along.” Lupita commanded. Matt agreed and followed his date with her train.

Winston wasn’t paying attention; he was walking around talking with Michelle. He accidentally bumped into Lupita.

“Peet, I’m so sorry. I was talking to Michelle and wasn’t paying attention to...wh-where I...was...going.”, his thoughts and heart rate began to speed up as he looked at the sight in front of him: his ex-girlfriend.

“Hey, Khalida.”, Winston said calmly.  

“Hey, you.”, she basically whispered in a sultry tone.

“You look...sublime.”

“Oh? Interesting word choice, Mr. Duke.” She raised her eyebrow and gave a faint grin. Poor Winston was intoxicated with Khalida’s presence once more—a drug that he could never get out of his system even if his life depended on it. His eyes were fixed on her, breath staggering.

Yaa’s dress was everything: it was a black, long-sleeved, sequined, floor-length curve-hugging gown with a dramatic “v” neck that accentuated her well-endowed chest. A haute Morticia Addams. Nadia styled her locs into a mid bun with a pinned bang.  

Michelle looked on as they conversed. It clicked—Khalida was the one that still had his heart. She wasn’t stupid; she could sense he was holding out in their relationship in more ways than one. Michelle cleared her throat loudly to break up the two former lovers’ sappy reunion.

“Winston, aren’t you going to introduce me to your...friend? ”, Michelle said with a slightly condescending tone, looking Yaa up and down with disgust. Yaa returned a rather unbothered stare to Michelle.

“Oh...of course, Winston began clearing his throat, “Yaa, this is my girlfriend, Michelle Lee, freelance journalist. Michelle, this...this is my...ex...girlfriend, Dr. Khalida Abdullah, Attorney at Law.”, he fought a smile.

Michelle grimaced. “Oh, a lawyer, you say? What kind of lawyer? Whose firm do you work for?”, she interrogated.

“I’m a civil rights attorney and I have my own firm with my partner and best friend from Yale Law.”

“Your own law firm? You look a little too young to own anything. How old are you?”

“Grown.”

“Did you even hear the quest—“

“— Loud and clear. I said I’m grown.” Yaa maintained her calm, yet petty demeanor throughout the unnecessary exchange. All the while, Matt and Lupita exchanged glances and silent snickers. Yaa was going to hold her own without hesitation. The Louisiana Reaper v. the bell pepper. “Winston, may I speak with you in private please?”

Winston looked to an upset Michelle that just waved her hand for him to go on. “After you, Dr. Abdullah.”,he calmly suggested as he motioned her to go in front of him.

Winston made sure to hold Yaa’s train. Winston became entranced as he watched his ex’s Spanx-less bottom switch from left to right. He felt a sweat come over him. Baby girl still had him sprung. They finally walked out to the balcony. The nighttime October breeze hit Yaa’s bare skin, sending goosebumps throughout her body. The bass still bumped even outside the country club. Even with the low lighting on the balcony, Yaa’s dress still sparkled in the moonlit sky. The two stood across from each other. A lot was on their minds and rightfully so. Four months had gone by without any sense of closure. The lack of closure was pacified with many questions, hypotheses, what-if situations, and many, many tearful nights on both ends.

“So uhh—“, the former lovers said in unison. They chuckled.

“You go first.”

“No, you!”

“No...you.”

“Dammit, Winston, somebody going first.”, Yaa said crossing her arms. “I just wanted to say that one, I miss you. Two, I’m happy for you finding Michelle. Lastly, LEMME FOUND OUT YOU OUTCHEA ACTIN YA ASS OFF ON PERSON OF INTEREST, MINI!”, Yaa hyped. She playfully punched his shoulder. There was a visible shift in her body language. She re-adjusted her posture and looked down at her dress. When she looked back up at Winston, he saw a rather stoic expression come across her face. “No, but...I wanted to just speak with you in private and I’m sure you’ve wanted the same. I miss you, Chris.”

Before he spoke, Winston offered his jacket to Yaa, an offer she accepted.

“I miss you more, Yaa.”, Winston replied quickly.

“The four months that we’ve had apart have had me thinking...a lot...a little too much. While the circumstances of our break-up hurt me more than anything, I don’t harbor any ill-will or harsh feelings towards you. I still care for and love you deeply.”

The admission gave Winston a temporary sense of relief. After four long months apart from the love of his life, it was definitely a relief to know that she didn’t want to push him over the balcony ledge. However, that feeling of relief was quickly replaced by the familiar void feeling in his heart—a void left by Yaa. He missed her more she would ever comprehend. He even missed her sarcasm and readings. By this time, he stood in front of her studying her stoic facial expression.

“I still love and care for you, too, Khalida.”, Winston replied.

“Which brings me to my next point”, she began. Winston’s brows furrowed in confusion, “This time apart has also given me the opportunity to contemplate our relationship from this point forward. My therapist...recommended that I reach out to you to establish something we never had—an actual friendship.”, Yaa explained. There was a steady pause and sharp exhale before the word “friendship” left her lips. It hurt her to see Winston with Michelle and even more to not be with him.

Winston blankly stared at Yaa. He saw, heard, and comprehended every word coming out of her Ruby Woo painted lips, but everything wasn’t registering.

“Friends?”

“That’s what I said. I believe we can work as friends and support each other despite our ending. You and Michelle seem like you all are getting into a rhythm and I don’t want to be your hindrance in your loving her.”

“Ok. Yeah...friendship? No problem.”, he noted dryly.

“Winston?”

“Yes?”

“Is that what you truly want? Because I don’t want to let our connection die.”

Winston shifted his weight and sighed before laughing. “Doesn’t want our connection to die...got it. Of course, we can work on a friendship.”, he remarked in a condescending tone. He was repeating that made him lose Yaa the first time. Yaa finally picked up the hints of sarcasm.

“Winston, I don’t know why you’re being condescending and cold towards me, but you need to stop. I just came to talk and try to amends with you and salvage what little we have left between us.” Yaa felt herself getting emotional and angry simultaneously.

Winston began pacing. “Oh, now you want to talk to me when it seemed easy to give me...give us up?!”

Yaa’s eyebrows flew up and her jaw dropped. Her heartbeat began increasing and her petite frame began to tremble—she was beginning to see red. Her mouth opened to snap, but it quickly closed to save his ego and feelings. “I don’t want us to end on this note...again.”, she mumbled.

“I don’t know what you from me, Yaa. This isn’t exactly easy so stop making it look like that.”

Yaa thought long and hard on her next statement. Being a known wordsmith, she had to craft what she was going to say to make sure it would stick with Winston. That and her anger was on 100, so one wrong move and she’d snap. She finally began to speak barely above a whisper but not quite at normal speaking level.

“What I wanted from you was to make sure the plane wasn’t still malfunctioned. But...I see that it’s temporarily disabled. Whenever you get your head and your ego out of your ass, we can talk. The number won’t change. Good night, Mr. Duke.”

She briskly walked back inside of the country club, fighting tears and the urge to break down once more. She wasn’t going to force a grown ass man to do right; Khadijah and Carrie taught her better than that. Once again, his mouth and his ego ran Yaa off. Fuck, whatever happened to doing better and winning her back? The second walk-out hurt more than the first. This time, he was actually angry with himself. Out of nowhere, his fist made contact with the concrete wall. He roared out in pain as his knuckles bled. Not only was his hand in pain in excruciating pain, but so was his heart. Both injuries could’ve been prevented had he just shut up. The tears burned and clouded his eyes as he cried hysterically.

Yaa returned to find Lupita and Matt deep in conversation, Michelle was sitting down at one of the lounge tables. Right away, Matt noticed his date’s rather bubbly and sweet spirit had been messed with.

“Khay, what’s wrong? Is everything alright?”, Matt placed his hand at the small of her back as he studied her visibly upset face. She was fighting back tears.

“Everything’s not ok. Let’s just go before I’ll need to dig Johnnie Cochran up from the dead.” Peet, I’ll text you whenever I can. Lunch is still on for tomorrow.”, she muttered in a monotonous tone.

Matt found himself running after his date as she angrily walked out of the venue. The plane was totaled.

Tag List:

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[weekend-conspiracy-theorist]

you’re on a different road (I’m in the milky way)

I’ve been thinking about Gwen Stacy a lot lately. Read on AO3

“Let me take you out tonight,” Peter told her. He barely even pretended to be sneaky about slipping his hand under her dress, offering her his most charming, crooked grin as it curled possessively over her hip.

Gwen didn’t quite roll her eyes, in a Herculean feat of restraint, and flicked teasingly at his hand from the outside of her dress.

She was pretty sure he already knew what her answer was going to be; he just wanted to make sure she knew her options. He was so patient with her, in his obnoxious Peter way--probably because he was just as busy, between classes and his non-stop pursuit of the next photo he could sell to the Bugle.

“Sorry, lover,” she murmured, pressing a kiss to his lips as she settled her hands on those broad, warm shoulders. She may have let him tug her aside into an empty classroom and make her late-to-be-early to her next class, but she just didn’t have the time for more than a scandalous mid-morning make out session. “I’ve got a lab report due Monday.”

“Monday, she says!” Peter complained, all sarcasm and wild gestures with his free hand--the other didn’t leave her hip, keeping her against him. “Three whole days away and we can’t do one measly little dinner!”

“One measly little dinner, he says,” she drawled back, treating him to a patented Gwen Stacy eye roll. “One measly little dinner--” her knuckles trailed down the soft cotton of his polo-- “followed by what?” She mockingly tapped the buckle of his belt with one pale blue nail. “His measly little--”

“Hey now.”

“Apartment.” She snickered at the disgruntled look on his face, darting up to kiss his cheek even as she brushed his hands away. “Things to do, places to be. I’ll call you on Sunday if I get done in time for a movie.”

Peter chucked her lightly under the chin, joking, “Promises, promises,” and Gwen blew him a kiss as she strode out the door.

She wouldn’t be leaving campus until the evening, but she could already see her weekend in her mind’s eye:

Steady, diligent progress on her report, and then in the morning she’d share an early breakfast with her father. Lather, rinse, repeat. Or... maybe not repeat. Maybe she’d invite Peter over around noon on Sunday, sacrifice efficiency in exchange for his hand on her thigh while she worked. It was certainly a thought.

Gwen smiled, ducking her head to hide her smile as she slipped into class, barely on time. She was flying high all that afternoon, through class and productive hours in the lab--she always was, after ten minutes with Peter. He made her feel like she was on top of the world.

Then she ran into her mentor in the hallway, and Gwen was reminded that- for all its strengths- Empire State University was very much not the top of the world.

“Gwen!” Professor Warren’s smile was a little too bright, as always, and he waved at her insistently. “Got a minute? We can go ahead and get our next meeting out of the way.”

She glanced, longingly, down the hall at the vending machine and the frappuccino she’d had her sights set on, but she let him usher her over. “Hey, professor. Our meetings are normally on Mondays...”

And in his office, not the middle of the hallway, and Gwen didn’t normally have an impending caffeine headache after several hours hunched over a microscope. She slipped her hands into the pockets of her dress, refusing to rub at her temples.

Stacy’s didn’t show weakness.

“I was actually hoping we could start meeting twice a week.” Warren clapped her on the shoulder with a warm smile. “Time to start ratcheting up the pressure, my dear; I’m really going to be putting you to work this semester.”

Gwen’s face did something sharp and disbelieving; she couldn’t help it. “We’re two weeks in, and I’ve already got a massive lab report due,” she said, as neutrally as she could manage. “I barely had time for Peter or my extracurriculars last semester, when I was taking fewer credit hours--”

“I think the key word there is ‘extracurriculars’; they’re your choices, Gwen,” he said, barely sounding apologetic. “You asked to be treated like one of my grad students despite being an undergrad, Gwen. That means research, research, and more research.”

“Of course, Professor,” Gwen said, forcing herself to smile. “I understand.”

She flung open the door to Peter and Harry’s apartment, slamming her textbooks onto their counter as she blindly kicked off her ankle boots. “You,” she snarled, pointing an accusatory finger at Peter.

He threw his hands up, those eyebrows of his innocently rising. There was a half-assembled sandwich on the counter in front of him. “Me?”

She stormed over to him, dragging him down by the buttons of his polo, eyes wild as she hissed, “You’re taking me out tonight.”

“Tell me more, tell me more,” Mary Jane drawled.

Gwen hadn’t even noticed her--or Harry, she realized, glancing over at the couch. He was playing a videogame, tongue poked out between his teeth, and two model-long legs were crossed over his lap as MJ lounged effortlessly back against the arm of the couch.

“You weren’t supposed to miss that jump, I think,” she said dryly, and Harry made a distressed noise, thumbs flying over his controller. Over her shoulder, she added, “Is this a group thing, Gwendy?”

She ran her tongue over her teeth, scrunching up her nose as she considered the thought. Gwen hadn’t had much of a plan in mind, except for drowning herself in an irresponsible night of debauchery with Peter as a great big “fuck you” to Professor Miles “Define ‘Social Life’” Warren. And who was better for bright, loud, and distracting than the one woman party over there on the couch?

She nodded decisively. “It’s a group thing.”

“Mm.” Mary Jane smiled, wide and slow like a cat eyeing the nearest canary. “Kinky.”

Gwen laughed, a little high and a little hysterical, and thumped her forehead onto Peter’s shoulder. Those strong, strong arms curled around her and pulled her close, his crooked nose pressing into her hair as he asked, quietly, “What happened, honey?”

“Doesn’t matter,” she mumbled back.

Peter snorted. “Seems like it matters. Six hours ago you were too busy to even have dinner with me, and now you’re all ‘Hurricane Gwen’--”

“Just shut up and hold me, Parker.”

“Don’t make out in my kitchen,” Harry ordered, and Gwen flipped him off even though he wasn’t looking. (In all fairness to Harry, he’d walked in on her and Peter... more times than she really wanted to think about.) “Where are we going?”

“Dancing,” Gwen said immediately.

She turned her cheek to Peter’s shoulder so she could watch Mary Jane--there were calculations running through those green eyes of hers, pale throat exposed as she tilted her chin up thoughtfully. “Club preferences?”

“Not the place we went last time,” Peter said firmly, and Gwen pulled a face, making a low noise of agreement.

“But that bartender was so cute!” Harry protested, finally pausing his game so he could turn an accusatory glare on the two of them.

“Harry,” Gwen said flatly. Sometimes it was hard to remember how smart these boys were, when they were both so dumb. She pulled away from Peter, one hand set on her hip and the other flitting high and sarcastic through the air. “Are you forgetting the part where she turned out to be a literal soul sucking demon?”

Mary Jane sighed dreamily, draping herself backwards over the arm of the couch. “At least I got to be scooped up in Spider-Man’s hunky, manly arms.”

Peter snickered. “So did Harry.”

Harry sniffed, his slender arms crossing over his chest as he slouched back into the couch. “You’re just jealous, Parker. Always too busy chasing a picture to get hit on by sexy supervillainesses.”

“Who’s jealous, lover boy?” Mary Jane laughed, prodding his thigh with the ball of one foot. “Pete’s got Gwendy. What else does he need?”

“What else indeed?” Peter asked teasingly, leaning down to wrap his arms around her waist, nosing at the soft skin behind the lobe of her ear. His voice quiet and husky, he asked, “What are you going to wear tonight?”

Exasperation seeped down into the depths of Gwen’s very soul.

“You’re such a boy,” she groaned, letting herself flop bonelessly into Peter’s grip. He took her weight easily, his shoulders shaking with silent laughter. “When I’m doing my PhD at UC Berkeley, we’re going to have daily phone sex, aren’t we?”

“You said it, not me.”

She ignored him, dropping her voice mockingly. “‘Are you wearing any underwear?’” Gwen threw her hands up, an uncoordinated flail that came quite close to smacking her obnoxious boyfriend in the face. “Peter! It may be eight PM for you, but I’m literally still in the lab! You’re on speaker with me and five of my closest colleagues!”

She paused, then added smugly, “And no, no I am not.”

Harry howled with laughter, flinging his arm over his eyes.  “Gwen, you’re a legend.“

She smiled--not her usual, that sharp and icy smile that made men and women alike quake in their boots, but a soft one, one that came along with her heart throbbing in her chest. Harry worried her, sometimes; drawing out his laughter was always a victory.

“You should be nicer to me. I could drop you,” Peter told her, jostling her threateningly.

“You’d never drop me,” she said confidently.

Her fingers were curled around Peter’s wrist, the pad of her thumb tracing lightly over tender skin. She reached up with her other hand, blindly patting at his cheek--she caught part of his mouth, and he kissed at the heel of her palm.

Harry elaborately mimed gagging, and Gwen mouthed back, “Jealous.”

Out of nowhere, Mary Jane gasped.

She flung herself off of the couch and raced towards the kitchen, falling dramatically to her knees and skidding across the hardwood to come to a stop at Gwen’s feet.

“Let me pick out your outfit for tonight,” she begged, hands clasped below her chin. Her red hair was escaping her bun in wisps, framing her freckled face and wild green eyes like ribbons of fire. “I’ve got a dress that was made for you, Ms. Stacy.”

Gwen frowned, pulling one knee up slightly in a half-hearted attempt to escape. “Peter, carry me away from the crazy,” she ordered.

MJ’s hand shot forward through Gwen’s legs to seize Peter by the knee of his jeans, and she growled, she actually growled. “Don’t you move a fucking muscle, Parker.”

“Sweetheart, I’m scared,” Peter stage whispered, his laughter almost breaking through.

Gwen curled her lip in disgust. Useless, he was useless to her.

Mary Jane met Gwen’s eyes once more. “Gwendy,” she said insistently, releasing Peter’s jeans to run her hands soothingly over Gwen’s bare calves. “Your personal style is phenomenal, don’t get me wrong, but I can take cool, and collected, and stylish,” her head tilted with each word, her eyes closed and voice fluttering into a lower register with the weight of her convictions, “and I can tear you apart and build you back up, and I will make you so goddamn sexy that your hunky, healthy boyfriend will have a heart attack on the spot.”

Gwen narrowed her eyes.

Mary Jane raised an eyebrow.

“I mean,” Harry said slowly. Gwen’s eyes flicked up, betrayal flooding thorugh her veins, to find his hands steepled thoughtfully beneath his chin.

Peter’s voice in her ear was all nonchalance as he added, “I certainly wouldn’t complain.”

Gwen clapped her hand over her eyes, groaning deeply. “Fine, whatever.” Mary Jane cheered, fist pumping, and Gwen waved a finger in her face, voice sharp as she continued, “But I’m not leaving this apartment, Watson. You’re bringing that massive wardrobe to me.”

It was a warm night for January in New York City, and Peter’s hand blazed against the small of her back.

He couldn’t stop touching her, even more than he usually couldn’t stop touching her. Who knew an edgy little black dress with a smoky eye and messy hair style could have such a large effect? Mary Jane Watson, apparently.

Gwen looked over at her, in that stylish jumpsuit and towering heels, and MJ winked, magicking a flask out of the folds of her deep, scooping neckline.

“Marry me,” Harry told her, voice urgent in the cool night air.

She smiled, sharp and sweet all at once as she patted Harry lightly on the cheek. “Honey, you couldn’t handle me.” Her green eyes glittered with a challenge, flicking away from Harry. “Need something to keep you warm in the winter, Gwendolyne?”

One of these days you’re going to learn to turn down a dare, Gwen, she thought ruefully, snagging the flask out from between Mary Jane’s fingertips. “Not that I need it to ‘keep me warm’,” she added, complete with sarcastic air quotes.

Mary Jane looked at Peter.

Peter grinned and wiggled his eyebrows.

She snorted, nodding her head. “Right.”

“Yeah, sure.” Gwen took a long, long drink of vodka and leaned in conspiratorially, beckoning Mary Jane and Harry closer as she stage whispered, “I have the Human Torch on speed dial.”

Peter mimed stabbing himself in the heart. “You wound me, sweetheart, you know that? Of all the supermen in all the gin joints in all the towns to fake leave me for, and you had to pick the flamebrain.”

Gwen wiped her lips on the back of her hand and passed Harry the flask. “Who said I was leaving you?” she teased, voice low as she tugged lightly at his belt loop, enjoying the heat in his eyes as he looked down at her. “You’re welcome to join us.”

Mary Jane glanced between them consideringly. “That’s a good point, Har. Gwendy and Pete could handle me--��� she held up a finger, her eyes glittering with amusement-- “but only together.”

Gwen could already feel the vodka curling through her veins, her cheeks heating up and her limbs loosening. “That a challenge, lover girl?” she demanded.

“That an offer?” Peter added, shifting his arm to hang heavy over Gwen’s shoulders, his smile crooked and warm.

“Ugh, stop flirting,” Harry ordered. He grabbed Gwen’s hand, spinning her out of Peter’s grasp and dipping her towards the dirty concrete.  “I thought we were here to dance, Stacy!”

Ever since she’d known him- and she’d known him first, before Peter and Mary Jane and dear Flash, away overseas- Harry had always looked just shy of anxious, long and thin and pale, with too much product in his hair. But right now, that was all burned away by the force of his smile and the excited glitter in his eye.

Gwen hooked her leg around his hip, a smile stealing slowly across her face as she listened to Peter’s indignant squawking and Mary Jane’s teasing drawl. Her heart felt full to bursting--God, she loved these people.

She reached up, pinching one sharp cheekbone. “Take me away, Osborn.”

“Like we were born to it,” Harry agreed fervently, and- fine-boned hand in Gwen’s- he cut to the front of the line, ignoring the complaining masses as he flashed his black AmEx and his most arrogant smile. The bouncer glanced between them, his mouth an impassive line, and then he stepped aside to let them through.

Norman Osborn wasn’t good for much, but at least there was this.

“Redhead and eyebrows are with us, too,” Harry told him, “but make them think we’re abandoning them completely before you let them through, huh? Three minutes should do it.”

Gwen cackled, squeezing his hand as she threw Mary Jane and Peter a teasing wave over her shoulder. “I knew there was a reason we were friends.”  .

The club, when they stepped inside, was just what Gwen had been looking for--Mary Jane and her encyclopedic knowledge of New York night life to the rescue, yet again. The upper tier was a 360 degree blacony full of tables and seating, illuminated with a dark, moody sort of lighting; below, the huge dance floor was an amorphous world of pulsing lights and writhing bodies, its speakers cleverly placed to keep the music from overpowering the upper level.

Still, the floor vibrated beneath her feet.

The music seemed to reach down inside her, squeezing her heart until it raced in time, and she was breathless enough to let Harry drag her down the wide, drunk-people-friendly stairs to the lower bowl.

“What’s the play, Har?” she yelled, standing on tiptoes to reach his ear. “Do you want--”

“To quote a song so popular that even Peter would know it,” he said, rolling his eyes, “shut up and dance with me, Stacy.”

And that was that.

Gwen lost herself in the music, in lyrics screamed at the top of her lungs and jumping around making a fool of herself, in the shape of Harry’s grin and the awkward flail of his limbs--and later, when Peter and MJ found them, she lost herself in Peter’s hands on her hips and the sparkle in Mary Jane’s eyes, in the feeling of three of her favorite people in the world laughing freely on every side of her.

Needless to say, Mary Jane’s flask was simply the opening salvo of the night.

“I love you,” Gwen told Peter, in the brief silence between two songs. She was almost out of breath, her arms weighty with tipsiness, and her hairspray was starting to fail her, sweaty wisps of blonde curling around her face.

He was peering at the bottom of his shoe with a disgusted expression.

“You dragged me to this club, so you better,” he said, distractedly, and Gwen huffed. Peter really was an idiot.

“I’m gonna go find MJ; you keep an eye on lightweight over there,” she yelled over the opening chords of the new song, gesturing at Harry where he was making out with a girl who looked a lot more... alternative than his usual type, and pushed through the crowd towards the stairs.

Mary Jane was easy to find once Gwen had white knuckled the railing the make her way up a level; her red hair shone like a roadside flare, even in the almost nonexistent lighting of the club, and she was holding court among a gaggle of handsome suitors, both straight and butch, her smile bright and her eyes sparkling with mischief.

Gwen wandered towards them, hands tucked under her arms. She was woman enough to admit she’d always envied that easy charm, and drunk enough to admit she’d always wondered if that vibrant red was natural. Mary Jane had so many freckles, she thought wistfully. It almost had to be; those traits were genetically linked.

“Gwendy!” Mary Jane called, her face lighting up as she spotted her--and then she looked at her, and she immediately shooed off her suitors. She didn’t have a sharp tongue, not the way Gwen did, but whatever she said was effective enough to clear the booth down to just the two of them by the time Gwen slipped in across from her.

“Where’s the Boy Wonder?” she asked, her voice low and concerned.

Gwen snorted, folding her arms on the tabletop and slumping down to rest her cheek on them. “Complaining to the management about the puke on his shoes, probably,” she said sullenly.

Fingers combed through her hair, MJ’s perfectly manicured nails scraping lightly over her scalp.

She should have known she’d end up here, laid low by one drink too many, everything she’d been avoiding roiling its way through her chest. She should have known because this always happened--she thought she’d have fun, and then she didn’t. It was never like that Footloose remake.

Gwen Stacy, she decided, was not a woman made for clubbing--which was good, since she wasn’t going to have time for it anyway. She didn’t even have time for this, honestly.

She squeezed her eyes shut, holding her breath against the sob that wanted to shake her thin shoulders. There was just too much, there was so much, how could she do it all and still have time to sleep, time to see Peter, time to spend with her dad--

“Hey, woah.” Mary Jane whistled, sharp and high, and it cut through Gwen’s spiral. “Walk me through whatever’s going on in that blonde skull of yours, tiger. Take it one step at a time and use enough little baby words for a dummy like me to understand, huh?”

“Just in the middle of a minor breakdown,” Gwen told her thickly. “I’ll get over it.”

“Then do it already.”

Gwen reared up, shooting her a disgusted look, and Mary Jane- her face devoid of sympathy- reached out and flicked her painfully on the forehead. “If you want me to be supportive,” she said flatly, “you have to actually explain what’s wrong.”

In the morning, Gwen would be embarrassed by the ugly red flush that came over her cheeks, the sharp vitriol in her voice as she snapped, “You’re such a--”

“Gwendy. Sweetheart.” Mary Jane’s fingers curled around her chin, dragging her gaze to meet those warm, green eyes, so full of love and affection it felt like a blow the gut. Gwen made a wounded noise.

“Talk to me,” Mary Jane said softly.

To Gwen’s eternal embarrassment, tears welled up as if on cue.  “I can’t do it,” she sobbed. “I can’t do it--He wants me to double down on my research, as if I'm not already overloaded, and I’ve never failed anything before, in my entire life, and I’m going to fail everything and I--”

Gwen raised one hand, pressing almost painfully over her mouth as she curled in on herself, trying to get back under control. God, she was such an idiot.

“Oh, honey.” Mary Jane leaned across the table, gathering Gwen up in a wiry-armed hug. “Can you cut anything out? Drop a class, quit the lab?”

Gwen shook her head wordlessly. She needed Warren’s recommendation letter for grad school, and all of her classes were coreqs for each other or prereqs for things she needed down the line. Besides, she loved her research, and she loved her classes, and that was just going to make it all the worse when she crashed and burned.

“Okay.” Mary Jane sat back in her seat, her hands sliding to Gwen’s cheeks. She smoothed away a tear with one thumb, a determined glint in her eye. “Doesn’t matter. You’re not going to fail,” she declared.

Hysterical laughter bubbled up in Gwen’s chest. “You can’t possibly--”

“I so can possibly know that, because you’re Gwen Stacy--” she pointed at Gwen-- “and I’m Mary Jane Watson--” she pointed at herself-- “and the two dumbasses currently dithering around behind that column because they don’t know what to do with a crying drunk girl--” she pointed at the boys-- “those are Peter Parker and Harry Osborn.”

She leaned her forehead against Gwen’s, cradling her cheek with one hand, and her voice was soft as she added, “Mary Janes and Peters and Harrys? They love their Gwendolynes. Lover girl, that means you aren’t in this alone.”

Oh.

Her chest jumped with a sob she refused to let go of. “Let’s go home,” Gwen suggested, her voice hoarse.

Mary Jane pressed a quick kiss to her forehead before rising to her feet. “There’s a reason they made you the brains of this outfit, Gwendy.” She hooked her arm through Gwen’s, a steady, mostly-sober guide as they wormed their way towards the exit. “Seems like time for you to head to bed: numerous fluffy pillows required, hunky chem majors optional.”

Gwen managed to laugh, letting her head fall sideways onto Mary Jane’s shoulder. It wasn’t comfortable, with the uneven rise and fall of their stride, but it was comforting. “Thank you, Mary,” she said, too quietly for her knight in silk chiffon to even hear her.

“Here you are,” Mary Jane declared, pulling them to a stop next to Peter and Harry and giving Gwen a small nudge towards her boyfriend.  “One semi-emotionally-stable ice queen for you to feel up on the ride home.”

“Just another reason for me not to split a cab with Mr. Puke Shoes,” Harry said dryly.

“You’re one to talk; your breath smells like that chick’s cigarettes and a jager bomb,” Peter fired back. His arms curled around her, warm and strong and solid, and Gwen let herself lean into him for one long, long moment. What would she ever do without him? Spend an annoying amount of time on blind double dates with Harry, probably.

“I love you,” he told her, voice threaded with guilt and his grip tightening briefly. “Next time I’m dumb enough not to say that, you go ahead and tattle on me to Aunt May, huh?”

That was sweet; too bad he was such an idiot.

Gwen wriggled out of his grip to sock him in the shoulder, drunkenly hard, and sniffed imperiously. “Like I was crying about my boyfriend not telling me he loved me,” she scoffed, leading the march out of the club. “Full of yourself much, Parker?”

Harry laughed. “I love it when she puts you in your place.”

“I can’t win,” Peter complained. “Mary Jane, I cannot--I cannot win.”

“You keep telling yourself that, lover boy,” she drawled back. “I don’t know what else to call it, when you’ve got friends like us.”

[literaryfaeriecorner]

02/21/2021: Promotions, Old Friends, and Yellow School Buses

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February 21st, 2021

somehow i received a promotion at work last Friday even though i am literally probably one of the LEAST motivated people teaching at that school... fuck. so... now, instead of just being a regular-schmegular teacher, i am now the '6th grade head social studies teacher' which means that i have to run planning meetings for the social studies team, attend morning meetings discussing whole-grade growth and failings, and solutions for how we're going to get the kids to... not suck. uuuuuuggggghhhhhh!!! and this is for the rest of the year and the next!!!!

apparently, i am the 'perfect person' for this position because all of my classes have consistently performed better than the rest... but between you, me, and the entire internet, that speaks more to the abilities of my students than my own personal abilities as a teacher. i don't believe i'm a sucky teacher or anything but the fact remains that between work, grad school, delusional lovesick-related episodes, mental illness, and other varying distractions, i am not Doing The Best I Can. in fact, i'm literally in survival mode 95% of the time. the other 5% of the time, i'm in manic-as-fuck mode. so... do i really DESERVE this promotion? who even fucking knows? i like to believe, however, that i'll eventually figure out how to bullshit this new responsibility as well and no one will be the wiser. i mean, if this promotion came with a financial boost as well, i'd be more inclined to not fuck it up but, like... i'm doing more work for the same weak ass pay... i'm not as motivated with kind words and encouragement than i would be with a solid boost to my pay grade. anyway... whatever.

i was on tumblr the other day (i am fasting from all social media sites during the day for Lent but tumblr doesn't count because i literally just reblog five or six posts into the void, look at sad literature quotes, and log out just to do it all over again the next day... i am not addicted to tumblr as i am to twitter, instagram, pinterest, and linkedin... yes, linkedin. my quest to escape my job has led me down a very weird and addictive path) and i came across this post by user beetlejuices:

"isn't it all about old friends? like everything? all of it?"

and it is. i think so. i really do.

one of the things i've been conscious of in my early adulthood is that i am still chasing after the friendships i had in middle school. i wrote about this two Lents ago too. there is a memory that i remember so vividly in middle school and it reminds me constantly about how i felt so loved and appreciated and like the world couldn't go on without me if i somehow left or disappeared or went away. i think about it all the time. that is how freeing and loving and whole it is. just a simple memory of being three hours late to school (after a huge, blown out argument between parents who should've divorced years ago) and being startled by a flood of texts that starting pouring in at 7 that morning.

ashley: YOOOO where r u? they snagged all the donuts from the corner store!

alysha: you missed the bus this morning?

ashley: i bought donuts off eman 4 u... say im the best :D

kiera: U MISSED CRYSTAL'S FAT HEAD ASS SLIP DOWN THE STEPS LMAOOO

kiera: u're always here early u good?

alysha: are you coming 2 school today?

ashley: are u ok?

Christyl: don't forget we have a test in math!! where are you?

kiera: babe?

ashley: are you ok? why is ur phone off?

alysha: i just talked to ashley are u ok?

Christyl: where r u?

kiera: i just talked to ashley r u ok?

kiera: none of ur sisters r here either... u ok?

ashley: i'll call again @ lunch

alysha: pls be safe

Christyl: i'll tell the teacher you're sick and maybe you can take it tomorrow

Christyl: are you ok?

and even more messages that were sent during and inbetween classes... i thought it was a bit too late (and too time consuming) to respond to them all individually so after being signed into school three hours late, i decided to wait for all my friends at our table in the cafeteria to surprise them before explaining my mess of a morning. i was nervous because i thought they would be mad at me for some reason. but as soon as they saw me, ashley, alysha, kiera, and christyl, they came barreling towards me screaming my name. it was an entire scene. people looking at them crazy and then raising their eyebrows at me, not seeing what the big deal was. i probably looked the same exact way that i did the day before. unspectacular, bookish, awkward. they couldn't see what the big deal was. it embarrassed me but it thrilled me at the same time.

they nearly knocked me to the floor pushing each other to get to me first trying to steal the first hug. in the end, i stretched my arms out as far as i could and they all fell into them. we probably looked a mess. a tangle of brown legs, arms, frizzy hair, loose braids, and scuffed dress shoes. i remember feeling so loved and wanted. i felt bigger and grander than i was. i had stopped the world for five entire minutes and i didn't do anything. i was just existing.

i don't really talk to any of the girls anymore. i follow them on social media and i wish them happy birthday every year and we're all on each other's close friends list on insta... so i still know a few, if not all, of their secrets... but we'll probably never be as close as we were in middle school. and that's ok. i still love them as much as i did when they tackled me in the lunch room that day. i still root and cheer for them like we still spend every night after school on the phone for hours talking shit and planning presidential campaigns and gossiping about boys. i will never forget that day in the lunchroom. ever. and, like i said, it has only occurred to me now, as a young adult, that i've been chasing that kind of friendship and sisterhood since it happened.

i like to treat all my friendships as mini-romances. i remember a tweet that said, "friendships ARE romance," and i agree. i think i'm in love with all of my close friends, if not all of my friends. it's embarrassing (just a bit) but i have probably fallen in love with all of my friends at least once or twice. this is especially true for my group of college friends (at this point, they are really family). i have been in love, at least once, with all eight of them throughout our four years. i don't actually find this embarrassing like i said earlier. what's embarrassing is that this information might embarrass other people which, in turn, would thoroughly embarrass me. but the fact itself doesn't embarrass me. that is how i am. i fall in love and out of love at breakneck speeds. i think it's important to be a little bit in love with your friends.

i really enjoyed being in undergrad and planning literal dates between all eight or nine of us. and we would call it that. "what are we doing for our date next weekend?" "so who's going on the date tomorrow?" "are we cancelling the date or does the weather not matter?" (the weather always mattered.) my favorite college date was valentine's day senior year. we all went to korean-style karaoke and ordered so much food and drink we could barely stand to sing. we were all sat around the tv singing horribly to mariah carey or beyonce or rapping to nicki minaj verses. we took so many bad pictures and tone deaf videos and we kept leaning or hugging or holding each other's hands. that's another thing i love about my college family. most of us are touchy-feely people. i am a touchy-feely person. i'm southern and my mom is ridiculously gooey so one of my love languages, inevitably, is touch. i, usually, reign it in A LOT unless i have a partner but in college, i somehow discovered a whole group of people who loved to kiss each other on the cheek and hold hands and lean on other people, and lock arms. i felt at home. really.

maybe it's not only about old friends, though. maybe it's about feeling at home.

there was another post on tumblr and i think about it a lot. it's a screenshot of a tweet from twitter user @HumbleCore.

"HUGE NEWS: finally found my best friend from middle school on FB. We've both been looking for each other for over a decade. I told her I think about her whenever I play any boardgame or drive by a church. She told me she uses my name as her password at work. A perfect reunion."

when i read that the other night, i cried. i don't know why. it was heavy and ridiculous and i was worried my roommates would hear me. i don't know why i cried. at all. and even typing it out like that made me want to cry again. the feeling is not as strong or as overwhelming as it was the first time but it's still there.

i think about a best friend i had in first grade. even before i thought of ashley as my best friend (i have known Middle School Ashley since the first grade. i thought we were destined to be best friends forever and ever and ever, which is what i wrote in her middle school yearbook). his name was Malik. or Malique. my memory fails me. but anyway, i loved him like crazy. we didn't do anything without the other. we shared lunch together, we HAD to be partners on every field trip, i cried when Ms. Sanchez moved my seat from his in an effort to stop us from disrupting her lessons and i hated her for an entire week. (a very long time from a first-grade perspective.) even now, i think about him whenever i go to petting zoos or farms and when i ride on yellow school buses with my students.

Malik/Malique was my first kiss. we were hiding from Ms. Sanchez and the other chaperones so we could pet the goats one last time. while we were hiding behind a barn, he kissed me. "for good luck," he said. and then we sprinted across the farm to get back to the goats. and we pet them again before Ms. Sanchez found us and ordered us back on the big yellow school bus where we held hands for the entire hour-long ride back to school.

it's very silly to think now but in high school when i was trying to determine whether i loved my first boyfriend or not i remember thinking, "well, does he make me feel like Malik/Malique?" it's silly but sweet. at fourteen, still comparing the way he made me feel behind a barn at 5 years old to how another boy, years and years later, made me feel. it is silly but i think it's sweet.

i don't actually have any interest in finding Malik/Malique or knowing for certain what he does or how he's doing because i seriously doubt i had such an impact on his life, but i hope he's well and alive and happy because that's what i always naturally hope for when i pass petting zoos or farms or see bright yellow school buses.

so, yes. i think everything, us, our relationships, the entire world, is about old friends. all of it. every last bit of it.

i have a whole-grade data analysis, 300 pages of reading, and two mini-papers for classes to finish before tonight so i'm going to get going... i just wanted to write about old friends first.

[pookie--noodlin]

ok here comes that long rant i promised yesterday!! stay with me if you want..

so some of you may remember a few weeks ago when i asked for all of your lovely opinions on a 20 year old dating a 27 year old. well fast forward to 2 weeks ago (was that an oxymoron? Too bad). I wrote a long ass note about exactly how i felt about this guy and i was determined to tell him because it kept eating me away. So instead of being a normal person and talking, I just handed him the note. (i have the note if anyone wants to see it?) he said it was the cutest and sweetest note hes ever read and i thought he was kidding! I thought he would think it was so dumb because of course he doesnt feel the same way about me, how could he? thank you depression for these Intrusive Thoughts™. Anyway, he called me later after I gave him the note and he said “id be lying if i said i didnt want to date you. but i dont know if im ready for another relationship yet.” i told him to think about it, take all the time in the world omg i couldnt believe he even is considering this?! that was a few thursdays ago. the rest of the weekend he was very flirty with me, and it felt very relationship-y. Last tuesday he and i went on a walk and he said “so im willing to give this relationship a go.” so we are officially dating. ive honestly never been so happy in a relationship. 

ok were now in present time. so hes extremely busy with his last year of grad school, he bowls, hes on a flag football team, he works full time, he has 2 fantasy football teams, and hes dating me now. so i get that hes so busy and he still finds time to see me and im so thankful for that. he told me yesterday that hes been feeling depressed lately and think hes depressed and i just want to hug him and fix everything because ive been where he is so many times. and for the first time im not in this place of darkness, im happier than ive been in 3 years. so the other part of me is like lol that sucks, and i forget all the coping mechanisms ive learned. anyway, i wouldnt change anything about this because im so happy. i know he still likes me obvi cause were dating, but i cant get these intrusive thoughts out of my head that he doesnt like me, or he doesnt want to see me. i care about him so fucking much it feels like im going to explode. i dont want to mess anything up, i know im not actually doing anything wrong and its all normal and natural but my god it feels hard to breathe. i want to tell him how much he means to me, i mean were both mushy romantic people, but like i feel like id suffocate him if i said how much i care about him and just throw my entire feelings into the void (weve only been dating for a week calm tf down julia omg). theres no question here, i just need to type this all out, i feel like im being super irrational lol and need my mind to actually shut the fuck up!!! 

if you made it this far thank you, i appreciate you listening? hope youre having a great day ily <3