#rusty ryan smut

[keep-on-burnin]

See You Later • Brad Pitt

author’s note: this was requested by @stemmer14 !! she asked for a flirty moment with Brad on set, so here ya go🫶

warnings: drinking, smoking, unedited (sorry)

Becoming an actress had been your dream since you were a little girl. You loved immersing yourself into the somewhat made up world of every film you watched. So when you got wind of a new film holding auditions in your city, you couldn’t contain your excitement of this possibly being your big break.

The first day of the week long audition process, you absolutely nailed your monologue. The casting directors had even stopped you before you left the building that day to tell you how impressed they were. They said they would definitely be calling you back for a role in the movie.

The movie’s title was Ocean’s 11, a film about a man by the name of Danny Ocean recruiting eleven different people to help from all over the country to help him in robbing one of, if not the most successful casino in Las Vegas.

You had no idea who else had gotten roles, but you imagined some pretty famous actors had to be part of the cast.

About a week after your audition, you had received a phone call as promised that confirmed your role in Ocean’s 11.

You were thrilled and immediately started thinking about and developing your character.

3 months after your role was secured, you were flown out to Las Vegas to begin filming.

You arrived on set on what had to be the fifth day of filming, ready to record your first appearance in the film. This scene would picture your character sitting in a bar after a long night of working as a poker dealer in a very high-end casino. Danny Ocean’s closest colleague and long time friend Rusty Ryan convinces your character to join in on their mission to rob a casino, which just so happens to be the one you work for.

You still had no idea who was playing Rusty, but you were about to find out pretty quick.

After an hour in the make-up trailer and dressing room, you were escorted to where you would be filming your scene.

The backstage crew were running around the set, getting everything ready for the upcoming scene. You watched closely as everything happened around you. Your stomach began forming butterflies as the timing slowly came to film your scene.

Suddenly, a smooth voice greets you from behind. You whip around to shake the large hand stretched out towards you, eyes scanning up the man’s tall, toned figure to ultimately realized the hand you were asking belonged to…holy shit it’s Brad Pitt.

You swore you almost passed out. You were shaking Brad mother fucking Pitt’s hand!

“You must be playing Rachel, right?” He asked questioningly, raising his eyebrows. His hand was still in yours as you responded.

“Yeah, and you must be playing Rusty.” You concluded, smiling as your hand dropped from his.

Brad nodded and flashed you a bright warm smile.

Holy shit this is really happening you thought. Who gets the kind of opportunity to do what you’ve always dreamt of doing next to one of the hottest dudes in Hollywood? It felt like some sort of dream.

You watch the blonde in front of you bring his hand up to comb through his gelled hair as he spoke, “I don’t think I’ve ever had a scene partner this gorgeous.”

You turn your head to the side as your cheeks flamed red. You couldn’t help the huge smile the creeped onto your face, did Brad Pitt just call me gorgeous?

He softly chuckled at your response to his observation, staring daggers into the side of your face.

You decided to divert the conversation to the scene at hand, not knowing what else to say.

“So what were you thinking for this scene?” You inquire, looking back at him.

“I think there’s room for lots of improvisation, and I’m pretty sure Steven kind of wants us to just do our thing.” He answers, punctuating the end of his sentence with another heart stopping smile.

You both just stare at each other for a moment, almost like you were memorizing the exact colour of each other’s eyes.

The director calls over to you two, causing the eye contact to break.

“You guys ready?” Steven asks from behind a camera.

Brad looks at you as if to ask if you were ready. You nodded.

“Ready to rock n roll.” He responds, sauntering onto the set and taking his place on a bar stool in front of a glass of liquid that was supposed to be whiskey.

You stand out of the shot as you were supposed to start the scene by walking into the pub.

You take deep breaths with your head down, which helps you switch into your character. A moment of silence goes by after Steven asks for quiet of the set.

“Action!”

Rusty sits at the counter of the bar, running the tip of his calloused index finger around the rim of the glass placed in front of him. A cigarette hung out of his mouth, which he took a long drag of before tapping the ashes off in the ashtray beside his glass.

He senses someone walk through the entrance without even looking in the direction. The person moves to sit on the stool placed a few inches to his left, bring the smell of a sweet perfume into the vicinity.

“Just a whiskey please.” She says to the bartender, who quickly gets her a cold glass of Jack Daniels.

Rusty turns his head slightly to observe the women next to him, and boy was she beautiful.

She had shoulder length y/c/h and a shirt tight black dress, surprisingly paired with a pair of black sneakers. She brought the small glass up to her lips to take a sip.

“Converse and a cocktail dress? A very bold combo.” Rusty comments, taking a small sip of his drink.

She scoffs, “once you have to wear a pair of 4 inch heels for 5 hours straight, you’ll understand.”

The blonde man chuckles as he shakes his head. He reaches into his pocket, bring out his pack of cigarettes and handing one to the girl.

“Name’s Rusty.” He spoke.

The y/c/h girl looks questioningly at the smoke before hesitantly taking it from his fingers.

“Rachel,” she responds. “got a lighter?”

Rusty once again reaches into the same pocket to grab his lighter, handing it to her.

She thanks him quickly as she puts the cigarette in between her lips and lighting it.

Rusty watches her every move, biting his lip at the way ever red lips hold the cigarette so elegantly.

The girl, Rachel, slides the lighter back to him. She takes a long puff and blows of the smoke.

“Long day?” She asks Rusty, turning her head to meet his gaze. The crew needed one more member to make everything work, and they just couldn’t seem to find one. That day had been pretty stressful for him.

“Something like that.” He responds, taking another large gulp of his whiskey. “You too?”

“Yeah.” Is all she says, paired with a small laugh.

Rusty moves to grab the ashtray for her, setting it in between them. She smiles in thanks.

“I work at a casino.” Rachel says after a minute of silence. This peeked Rusty’s interest. Maybe this is the final member they need.

“Oh yeah?” He asks, rising his eyebrows at her asking her to continue.

“I’m a poker dealer for rich guys that come to blow their money on card games and booze.” She smiles, finishing her cigarette and putting it out in the ashtray.

“Which casino?” Rusty asks, hoping it was the one he was thinking of.

She swallow the liquor in her mouth before responding, “The Bellagio.”

Rusty couldn’t help the smirk that appeared across his lips. Fucking finally.

“Question.” He starts, waiting for a sign to continue.

“Shoot.” Rachel says, matching the smirk on Rusty’s face. She waits eagerly for the question on the tip of the blonde’s tongue.

“Would you ever,” He begins, trying to find a more discreet way to ask the question, but ultimately he decides to just stay it straight out. “Would you ever consider robbing it?” He inquires, fully prepared to divert the conversation to something else in case she questions him.

But the smirk playing on her features never fades. Rachel thinks for a second, “you’re serious?”

“Dead serious.” Rusty confirms, still anxious to see what she might say.

After several seconds of silence, she responds with a “I’m in.”

“Cut!”

And just like before, the crew scrambles around set to get ready for the next shot.

You stand up from your spot on the bar stool and walk to where you were standing g when Brad had greeted you, just to make sure you weren’t in the way.

“You were amazing.” Brad compliments you as he leans against the wall beside you.

You smile contently, turning to look up at him. Of course, he was smiling too. His blue eyes burned into your y/c/e ones, causing butterflies to once again erupt in your stomach.

The butterflies move to your chest once he grabs ahold of your for arm. Your mind is going crazy, thinking about what he will say to you next. While you were in your own head, Brad smirks at you as he asks what you never thought he would ever ask you.

“How about when we’re done here today we go get some coffee?”

But before you can really say anything back, your assistant calls you from across the set.

“Y/n, your next scene is coming up, we gotta go!”

You quickly tell her you’d be right there, turning back to Brad. His hand still had a firm grip on your arm, not letting you go until he got a clear answer to his question.

“Yeah, I would love that.” You smile softly at him. And with that, he let your arm fall from his grasp and leant down to give you a quick kiss on the cheek.

“I’ll see you later, darlin.” He says before pushing himself off of the wall and walking to the back for a cigarette.

For the rest of the day, you couldn’t stop thinking about the last thing he said to you. You just couldn’t wait to see him later.

I sincerely apologize for all the changes in tense😭I’m horrible at sticking to one so I hope it didn’t bother y’all too much <3 also lmk if you liked it!!

#brad pitt #brad pitt imagine #brad pitt x reader #brad pitt smut #brad pitt fluff #rusty ryan #rusty ryan imagine #rusty ryan smut #rusty ryan fluff #oceans 11 #oceans 11 imagine

[ave09]

hey!!

i am officially strep free! i feel so much better and i thank you guys for all the “get well” stuff it really helped.

sooo i am back to writing!

and since i’m back, i wanted to do a little clarifying for who i write for and what i write.

so, right now, i’m in my harrison ford era, but i haven’t seen all of his movies yet, so as of right now, his characters i write for are:

indiana jones (indiana jones duh)

han solo (star wars)

john book (witness)

tommy lillard (the frisco kid)

jack ryan (patriot games/clear and present danger)

james marshall (air force one)

rusty sabich (presumed innocent)

david holloran (hanover street)

harrison ford as himself (cause why not yk)

rick deckard (blade runner)

william jones (age of adaline)

linus larrabee (sabrina 1995)

MORE WILL BE ADDED

— — —

as for other things, i also want to start writing for:

-supernatural

-obx

-the 100

-dawson’s creek (pacey is the loml)

-marvel

-star wars (other characters besides han)

-prince eric (live action cause i love jonah)

-shadow and bone (books + show)

-actors (say there’s a specific actor whom you like and wish to read a cute lil romance about, sure why not)

and i’m sure there’s more i just can’t think of any lmao.

now as far as requests go, i will practically write anything as long as it doesn’t cross the line of yk, BAD things.

and smut. i do not write smut. i’m still somewhat young, and it makes me uncomfortable to read nonetheless write. the most you’ll get from me is a heavy make out before cutting to black.

soo yeah, that’s all. if there’s anything you want to read, you can send your request to my ask box.

i love you all sooo much, and i hope you have a wonderful day/night!

-jane 🫶🏻

#harrison ford x reader #harrison ford #harrison ford movies #indiana jones x reader #han solo #young harrison ford #star wars #indiana jones #obx #supernatural #the 100 #dawson’s creek #marvel #jonah hauer king

[rainboq]

Tempest Tossed

🔞Smut 🔞

Summary: Chloe Price is a lot of things. She's new in town, she's hot, and she's beyond intense. To Alex, she's an emotional third rail: electrifying her to her core and yet impossible to turn away from or resist, not that she even wants to.

Preview: Alex’s back hits the wall with a thump, nearly driving the air from her lungs. Chloe kicks the door to her apartment shut a moment later before rushing to close the gap between them. She barely has time to suck in a breath before Chloe’s chapped and chewed lips find hers again, the taller woman’s body pressing her back into the wall. Alex’s hands scramble for purchase, grabbing at Chloe’s jacket as she’s lifted up, her legs hooking over Chloe’s hips. Their tongues rub frantically together in the kiss as Alex rides the overwhelming force that is Chloe like she’s been doing all evening.

Chloe had been just as overwhelming when they’d first met a few days ago. Steph had said something about an old high school friend dropping by, and a week later there’d been this battered and rusty truck rolling into town. Out of it had stepped this tall, wiry woman with a short shock of strawberry blonde hair, piercing blue eyes and tattoos covering her arms and chest who walked around like she owned the place. Steph had been overjoyed to see her, and Ryan and Gabe quickly warmed up to her once they got past her rough exterior, but Alex had been swamped by her auras. They radiated off of her like the sun burning away the night, scouring away every other emotion in the room. Within seconds of being in the same bar as her, Alex had been struggling to keep her own emotions in the driver’s seat. Chloe’s incandescent joy mixed with an aching longing and grief for someone that both her and Steph had lost at some point in their shared history. She’d seen the pain and loneliness lurking behind those blue eyes that glittered like broken glass, all while Chloe’s cocky grin and crude jokes won her brother and Ryan over.

Within five minutes, Alex had been overwhelmed, and she’d staggered up to her apartment to try and soothe herself. She’d blasted some of her favorite records through her headphones at such a high volume that she’d missed Steph knocking on her door, until Steph had texted her to see if she was okay. By then, Alex’s brain was buzzing to be back near Chloe. The sheer intensity of her emotions was as intoxicating as it was blinding. Alex had assured Steph that it was just her powers acting up and that she’d be okay, before going back to Chloe like a moth to a flame.

(x)

#life is strange #life is strange: true colours #chloe price #alex chen #PriceChen? ChenPrice? Who knows #But its my trash rarepair so Imma ship it #lesbian smut #fanfiction #ao3

[asskickedbygirl]

weird awkward tumblr soft launch but hey i’m h and i’ve been lurking on CKY/Jackass tumblr for some time but i decided to bite the bullet and join!

i’ve only ever written for AO3 so i’m very rusty when it comes to tumblr but i’ll try my best! been working on a couple fics recently but i’m looking for requests so please feel free to ask anything! smut is welcome too (:

✮ ✮ ✮ ✮ ✮ ✮ ✮

people i can write for:

- bam margera

- ryan dunn

- johnny knoxville

- brandon dicamillo

- spike jonze

- chris pontius

- steve-o

- chris raab

#cky #cky2k #cky crew #cky3 #cky4 #jackass #viva la bam #bam margera #ryan dunn #johnny knoxville #dico #fanfic #fic prompt #anon ask #ask box #jackass fic #brandon dicamillo #raab himself #chris raab #spike jonze #steve o #chris pontius #wildboyz #johnny knoxville smut #cky smut #jackass smut #fan fic author #fan fic requests #new user #asskickedbygirl

[hazel-light]

Chapter Word Count: ~7,400

Total Fic Word Count: ~30,000

Genre: (Wedding) Fake Dating, Friends to Lovers, lots of bed sharing and every self indulgent fluffy trope possible.

Warnings: None? Lots of fluff? Occasional cussing? Some suggestive themes, moments, and jokes I guess. No smut or anything!

Disclaimer: I am not Daniel Sharman, and I do not pretend to know how he would act, speak, etc. This is fiction okay, there’s a lot of creative license, and potential to be OOC. Ricky isn’t mentioned because I started writing this before we knew he existed, so apologies for that. Also, if you’re DShar himself, please do us both a favor and don’t read this, okay???? Same if you know him 🙈

Title taken from the song Yellow Lights by Harry Hudson which suits this story quite a bit!

A/N: You thought I'd skip all the possibilities and tropes that come with the holidays?! Of course not. This is the final part to Yellow Lights. Thank you all for making my return to writing and posting so wonderful. I am so, so, grateful. I hope the ending lives up to your expectations. <3

The next month and a half passes by uneventfully. I try not to spend all of my time thinking about how great Rachel's wedding was, and equally try to ignore the wistful feeling Henry’s wedding left me with. Having Daniel be my fake boyfriend in front of my family showed me everything that I’d ever wanted; someone who fit in seamlessly, who loved me for me, with the perfect balance of romance and friendship. Whatever crush I had successfully buried when Daniel and I first met is now achingly hard to avoid. I curse my active imagination and optimism for letting me indulge in the moments of pretend, leaning too comfortably into our façade.

As a result, I don’t talk to Daniel much. He is busy finishing filming his project in London, and I try to focus on my life in LA. I’ve become paranoid that every text I send him is one too many, too annoying, or too bothersome. I figure I can reassess things when Daniel comes home from filming, and try to find my footing in our friendship again.

This seems like a solid plan until I’m on Zoom with my family for Thanksgiving. Since I’ve already flown back once this year for the wedding, and I’m planning to fly back again next month for Christmas, staying put for Thanksgiving was the economical choice. The call is mostly uneventful until the subject of Daniel comes up.

“Where’s that boy?” Aunt Judith crows from her spot at the dining table.

“Hmm?” I ask.

“She means Daniel.” Ryan rolls his eyes, bringing the iPad closer to her.

“Oh! Right.” I try to recover. “He’s still away filming his new project, actually, but I was able to fly out to see him at the end of September for another wedding, actually.”

Aunt Judith frowns. “That’s a long time to not see someone that handsome—” I start to laugh, “Are you sure he’s not cheating on you?”

Oh shit. It’s in this moment that I realize Daniel and I had never “broken up” as far as my family knows. I hear the rest of my family start sputtering in the background.

“Aunt Judith— you can’t just—”

“That’s awful, I—”

“It is kind of a long time, huh?—”

I try to keep a straight face. “Guys! It’s okay. He’s an actor, it comes with the territory. I expected this.”

“So you aren’t sure that he’s not cheating on you?” Ryan frowns.

“That isn’t what I meant, Ry. Daniel and I are fine. We’re really good, actually.”

“Well I certainly hope you’ll be bringing him home for Christmas then.” Aunt Judith huffs.

“It would be nice to see him,” Rachel speaks up for the first time, and her husband Nick nods. “I didn’t get to talk to him a whole lot at the wedding.”

I clear my throat, my mind racing. “You know, we haven’t actually talked about what we’re doing for Christmas yet; I’ll have to see what he’s doing— if he’s going to spend it with his family.”

“But you’re still coming home,” Ryan states.

“Yes, I am still coming home, no matter what.”

Ryan and Rachel’s mom, my auntie Kim speaks up. “I think it’s pretty common for a boyfriend to defer to his girlfriend’s family for the holidays. I mean, Ryan splits the day with Katharine of course, but Nick always came here with Rachel.”

“I hear you, Auntie Kim, but Daniel never gets to see his family so I’m not sure— all I’m saying is I’m not sure. He may very well come, and I will let you all know as soon as I know.” I smile tersely.

“Well hurry up, and find out,” Auntie Kim chastises. “Christmas is only a month away.”

When I hang up with them, it’s 7pm and I’m feeling antsy. How could I have forgotten that my entire family still thought Daniel and I were together? I’m not sure how to get out of this one. Tired of panicking alone in my head, I pick up my phone and dial Daniel before I can talk myself out of it. It rings and rings, and my anxiety that he won’t answer grows with each tone.

Eventually I hear rustling on the other line.

“Lauren?” Daniel’s voice crackles through the phone.

“Hi.”

“Are you alright?”

“What? Uh— yeah, I just needed to talk to you about something—” I glance at the time on my phone. “Oh god, no. What time is it there? I’m so sorry— I didn’t even stop to think about the time difference, I—”

I hear him suppress a yawn. “Lauren. It must be pretty important if you’re calling me AND rambling like this.”

“No, no, it can wait, I’m sorry— uh, go back to bed. I’m sorry I woke you up.”

“Lauren,” he stops me softly and firmly. “Stop apologizing. What’s going on?”

I sit quietly, feeling like an absolute idiot.

“Lauren, come on. You can tell me.”

“I— we… we never broke up?”

He laughs. “Sorry, what?”

“We never broke up.”

“Am I still asleep, is this a dream?”

“My family still thinks we’re together and they asked me if you’re coming home for Christmas.”

We’re both quiet for a moment.

“Oh.” is all he says.

“I talked to them for Thanksgiving, and they were asking about you. I realized too late that they thought we were still together— because I never told them we broke up. I didn’t think it through this far.”

“Right, I didn’t either.”

My phone starts ringing, telling me Daniel’s trying to FaceTime me.

I accept, and I’m faced with a dark screen.

“Why are we FaceTiming?”

I hear a lamp click on and suddenly Daniel’s face is illuminated as he lays in bed, lines from his pillow still on his face.

“Figured we should at least be able to see each other if you’re going to break up with me in the middle of the night,” he teases.

I shake my head. “Not funny, this is serious, D.”

“I know, I know.”

“If I break up with you, they’re going to yell at me and tell me I’m a stupid idiot.”

Daniel laughs.

“And if you break up with me they’re going to hate you, which means they’ll hate that we managed to ‘stay friends.’ And if it’s mutual…..” I shake my head, thinking. “They’ll think we were lying.”

��Which we were.”

I sigh, “Which we were.”

“So,” Daniel pulls his blanket up higher. “What are our options here?”

“I don’t know, that’s why I called you.”

I watch him stare off into space and reminisce about when I got to see this sleepy Daniel firsthand in Cape Cod.

“I could come for Christmas…” he trails off and I frown.

“That seems like asking a lot. You’ve already given up a lot of your free time this year for me.”

He shrugs into his pillow. “Do you not want me to come for Christmas?”

I pause. “I mean, that isn’t really the issue here. You have to be tired of being in love with me by now.”

He laughs loudly — a stark contrast to the quiet of his room. “Yes, being in love with you is very exhausting.”

“Tell me something I don’t know.”

“I’m kidding. Being in love with you is not exhausting. At all.”

I roll my eyes and say nothing. “I don’t think I can bear to break your family’s hearts at Christmas of all times.”

“Man of the year.” I drawl. “What are you supposed to be doing for Christmas? Going home?”

“No, usually I travel somewhere, but I hadn't decided yet.”

I hum in response.

“Kind of leaning towards traveling to Massachusetts now, if I’m honest.”

I look at him incredulously, only to see a playful grin on his face, but I know he’s serious.

“I’m not going to stop you if you really want to come. But I—” I swallow. “Eventually we’re going to need to plan for whatever happens after Christmas.”

He nods. “I know, we will. Let’s just enjoy Christmas together, first.”

I smile. “Okay. We can enjoy it. Together.”

He clears his throat. “I hope I’m not too rusty at this boyfriend performance, it’s been a few months.”

“Daniel Sharman has performance issues… I hope that doesn’t get out to the press.”

His eyes flash. “Bold, for you.”

I shrug. “You walked into that one, baby.”

“Well, you’re lucky you’re cute, darling.”

We look at each other for a moment, and I hope my eyes don’t give away how fond I am for this man who is willing to commit to fake-loving me, and putting up with my family, and who is setting the bar way too high for any actual real relationship I could hope for.

So much for reburying my feelings.

I break eye contact first. “I’ll let you get back to sleep. Sorry again for waking you up.”

“Do Not Disturb doesn’t apply to you, Lauren. Call any time.”

I smile softly. “Sweet dreams, I’ll text you tomorrow.”

“Goodnight.”

—-

I’m standing in the Boston Logan airport waiting for international arrivals; specifically Daniel’s flight from London. According to the board, his flight landed 15 minutes ago, so he should be coming to the lobby any time now. I bounce on my feet, simultaneously eager and nervous to see Daniel for the first time since parting ways after Henry and Claire’s wedding.

Eventually I see the hat and sunglasses I recognize from a selfie he sent me earlier, and I can feel my heart race. I begin walking towards him, and feel my pace quicken as I get closer. Eventually he sees me too and he’s grinning at me with his signature toothy smile that I missed so much.

When we come into contact I don’t know what the appropriate response is, so I simply grin up at him.

“Hi,” I breathe.

“Hi,” he smiles back, and before I know it he’s closer than he was before and he’s ducking down to kiss me.

It surprises me but I respond quickly, leaning up to meet him.

When it’s over he pulls back just enough to nuzzle his nose with mine.

“Missed you,” he says softly.

“Missed you most.” I smile.

He stands up straight, adjusting his backpack on his shoulder, threading his other hand through mine.

I can’t see his eyes, but I assume he must be looking around when he speaks.

“Oh, are you by yourself?”

The question catches me off guard.

“Yeah— well, Ryan’s in the car, circling so he wouldn’t have to pay for parking,” I roll my eyes.

He nods, “Sorry, then—“ he makes an inconclusive gesture. “Suppose I didn’t need to kiss you quite yet.”

My stomach drops and I smile tightly, “That’s okay— better safe than sorry. I get it.”

He tugs on my hand pulling me into a hug.

“I did miss you, though.”

“And I still missed you most.” I tease.

Daniel shakes his head, but doesn’t argue, pulling back from me and reaching for his suitcase with his freehand.

“Let’s get this show on the road.”

—-

I bring Daniel upstairs to show him around, and so he can put his suitcase in my room.

“Welcome to my childhood bedroom,” I announce, opening the door and leading Daniel inside.

“Wow, where little Lauren grew up,” Daniel teases looking around. When I first arrived home yesterday, I was quick to tidy up, and hide anything that was too embarrassing, but my room is more or less the exact same as I had left it when I was 18 and moving to college.

I nod. “Yes, many secrets to my backstory can be discovered in here.”

Daniel laughs.

Ryan appears in my doorway leaning against the doorframe.

“Just so you know, Daniel, my bedroom is on the other side of this wall,” he nods to his right. “I can hear everything that happens in here. The walls are thin.”

I frown, blushing, “Ew, Ryan.”

Daniel just laughs and smirks, “Got it, bro.”

I look at him incredulously, “Don’t encourage him.”

The two share a look and shrug, seemingly equally enjoying my discomfort.

“Dinner’s ready!” Auntie Kim calls up to us.

I use that as my cue, brushing past both of them to go downstairs, leaving their laughter behind me.

—-

After Christmas Eve dinner, Katharine stops by and the four of us decide to watch the classic, How the Grinch Stole Christmas. I’m the last to arrive in the living room, and when I enter I immediately notice that Ryan is cuddled up with Katharine, and sprawled out over the entire couch, leaving Daniel sitting in the only other seat— the armchair.

I narrow my eyes at them, “Are you guys for real?”

Ryan looks at us and hums innocently, “What?”

“You took the entire couch.”

I see Katharine bite her lip in amusement, as Ryan shrugs.

“I assumed you guys would cuddle anyway. Can you not share the armchair?”

Daniel intervenes, “Of course we can. C’mon Laur.”

He pats his lap. I hesitate briefly before nestling into his lap, tucking my head into his neck.

“Am I crushing you?” I whisper.

“Not at all, you’re keeping me warm.”

I huff a laugh as he puts the blanket over us and Ryan starts the movie. The steady rise and fall of his chest brings me a sense of peace and I have to try not to fall asleep, especially when his fingers gently caress my arm and my leg where he’s holding me to him. I exhale, turning further into his neck and nuzzling into him.

“Tickles,” he breathes, just shy of a whisper.

“You smell good,” I tell him, letting my eyes close.

His chuckle reverberates through his body. “Thanks, darling.”

I feel my eyes shut and sleep take over. I start to come to when I hear the ending song come on, and it drifts into whatever dream I’m having.

“She asleep?” I hear Ryan ask.

“Think so,” Daniel answers.

“You need help waking her up?”

“No, I’ve got it, thanks though. Nice seeing you, Katharine.”

I hear footsteps retreat and feel a series of kisses pressed to my shoulder, as Daniel’s long fingers brush hair away from my face.

“Time to wake up, pretty girl. You can go back to sleep once we’re in your bed.”

I shake my head no, clinging to him tighter.

“Like this bed.” I murmur drowsily.

He laughs softly. “Promise we can cuddle there too.”

“Promise?” I ask, peeking one eye open.

“I promise,” he confirms, pressing one more kiss to my shoulder.

I lift my head to look at him, rubbing my eyes.

“There she is,” he smiles gently at me.

I smile back sleepily, the words coming out before I fully think them through.

“Wanna know a secret?”

“Tell me.”

I swallow, letting my gaze flicker down to his mouth for just a moment. “I like cuddling with you.”

“You do, huh?”

I nod.

“Well the feeling’s mutual. Let’s go upstairs and brush our teeth so we can cuddle more in your bed.”

“Okay,” I relent, getting off of him. He stands up after me and I instinctively lace my fingers with his, leading us back upstairs. When we’re brushed and changed, we settle ourselves in bed and I claim my spot tucked into his neck again.

“Sweet dreams,” he says, kissing the top of my head. I echo the sentiment and gently kiss the spot on his neck I’m closest to. His arms tighten around me and I’m falling asleep again.

—-

For once, I wake up before Daniel. He looks peaceful as he sleeps on his stomach, his arm across my waist, face half smushed into the pillow. I turn my head to look at the clock to see it’s about 9:30 and know the others will be waking up soon. I turn back to Daniel and card my fingers gently through his hair. Eventually his breathing changes and his eyes flutter open, still clouded with sleep.

“Merry Christmas,” I whisper, our faces just inches apart.

He pulls himself closer to me, nuzzling into my side and closing his eyes again. “Merry Christmas.”

It’s quiet for a moment before he speaks again, voice raspy with sleep. “Is everyone else awake?”

“No, I don’t think so. I haven’t heard anyone up and around… they might be soon. Usually we kind of wander downstairs around 10, and it’s just past 9:30.”

He hums in response.

“You can go back to sleep for a little while if you want,” I offer, still running my fingers through his hair. “I’ll wake you when it’s time to go downstairs.”

I start to think he’s drifted off to sleep again when he opens his eyes and looks at me. “No, I can get up. I want to give you your present.”

I narrow my eyes at him. “I told you not to get me anything; you coming here like this with me— twice— is more than enough.”

He rolls his eyes, detaching himself from me and rolling out of bed. “And look like the asshole who didn’t get his girlfriend anything for Christmas? Not a chance.”

I sit up. “We could’ve lied about it—”

“Lauren,” Daniel looks back at me exasperatedly, leaning over his suitcase. “It’s Christmas. Please just open your present.”

He pulls out a neatly wrapped, thin rectangle and places it in my lap, sitting next to me on the bed.

“Merry Christmas, Laur.”

I carefully unwrap the package to reveal a framed art print, with a circle of stars in the middle; underneath it says “The Night Everything Changed” with the coordinates of what I assume to be Los Angeles. I look up to him with soft eyes, and he gives a one shouldered shrug.

“Saw an ad for this online— where you can get the night sky documented of any night you want, anywhere you want. I thought it would be nice to commemorate this past year, for us…” he trails off, and I hug the frame to my chest.

“Daniel, I love it— Really, really love it. It’s so thoughtful.” I reach out and thread our fingers together. “I’m going to hang this in my room. I want it somewhere I see every day.”

He smiles and squeezes my hand. “I’m glad you like it. I actually wanted to talk to you about something— in relation to this. I—”

We’re interrupted by a light knocking on the door, and we both turn.

“Are you guys awake?” Ryan’s voice calls.

“Yeah, we’ll be out in a sec!” I answer.

I turn back to Daniel who squeezes my hand and moves to get up, but I pull him back.

“They can wait; this is special. I want to hear what you have to say.” I smile at him warmly, but he shakes his head, lifting the back of my hand to kiss it.

“It’s alright, I’d rather wait and tell you when we have more time to talk.”

I frown. “Promise me you won’t forget?”

He laughs. “Trust me, I won’t forget.”

He moves to stand, pulling me up with him to go downstairs, but I stop him, wrapping my arms around him tightly.

“Thank you, D. It means a lot to me.”

He returns my embrace, placing a kiss to the top of my head.

When we pull apart, I take his hand again. “Time for Christmas. Your present is under the tree, by the way.”

Daniel laughs. “A present double-standard.”

I shake my head and lead him out of the room.

—-

I think we’re done with presents when Ryan surprises me, coming over to Daniel and I on the loveseat.

“This is for both of you, kind of.” He hands me a thin, narrow gift.

Daniel looks up, surprised. “Thanks, man. That was thoughtful of you.”

He looks at me, silently asking, did you know about this?, and I shake my head no.

I unwrap the package to find a small frame, with a one hundred dollar bill matted in the middle. I look at Ryan and furrow my eyebrows.

“It's the hundred bucks I said I’d give you if you brought a real date to Rachel’s wedding. Seeing as the same guy is here for Christmas I figured you earned it. Thought I’d frame it— but you can take it out and spend it on a date or something, I don’t care.”

Auntie Kim squints. “Sorry, you told her what?”

I roll my eyes and try to avoid the way my stomach sinks at the reminder of how this all started.

I feel Daniel’s hand on my knee. “Clever, Ryan.”

I look over at him to see him flashing his polite interview smile, and I instantly know he knows exactly what I’m feeling.

Auntie Kim stands and stretches. “I don’t get it, but I’m going to go start breakfast. Your sister and Nick are picking up Judith soon and then they’re coming over. Katharine isn’t coming until dinner, right, Ryan?”

As Ryan confirms, she walks out of the room. Ryan turns back to us. “Mind if I shower first?”

I shake my head no, still lost in my thoughts, and I hear Daniel tell him to go ahead.

We’re left alone and I feel Daniel’s thumb brushing my knee.

“Thank you for my presents.”

“You’re welcome— I’m glad you like them; they don’t beat your present for me though.”

He rolls his eyes and we sit for a moment, the framed hundred dollar bill still in my hands.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

I look at him and shake my head. “I don’t know. Just an odd reminder of how this started, and that it’s going to have to end soon, I guess.”

Daniel frowns. “We haven’t really gotten to talk about that. Why don’t we table that for later— we still have a nice day ahead of us. Those are problems for tomorrow.”

I nod and smile at him, and he pulls me in to kiss my temple, and I hear the click of an iPhone camera. I look up to see Auntie Kim in the doorway.

“Sorry, I just wanted to tell you that the coffee’s on. It was too cute not to capture.”

Daniel stands up, offering me his hand. “Make sure you send me a copy. I’ll have to add it to my collection.”

I chuckle as I stand. “Let me guess; the album is called ‘Cute and Shit.’”

He grins. “How’d you know?”

—-

Christmas flies by. It’s filled with good food, wine, and everyone I love. It’s hours after dinner, and Auntie Kim has already driven Aunt Judith home before going to bed herself.

Ryan, Katharine, Daniel, and I are all still seated around the dining room table playing some kind of team card game, and everyone’s faces are red from laughter and wine.

I can’t help but watch Daniel, who is in some kind of hilarious argument with Ryan over some card he pulled. His eyes shine from the light of the chandelier, and his smile is big and bright, taking over his whole face.

It hits me in this moment that I’ve surpassed unlabeled romantic feelings; I am truly in love with this man. The realization consumes me until Katharine knocks her shoulder into mine giggling.

“Can you believe we love these idiots?”

“Sometimes it’s a hard pill to swallow,” I tease, giggling, catching Daniel’s eye mid-argument. He winks at me and I feel my already red cheeks flush even deeper.

“You two are so cute,” Katharine continues, watching our interaction. She lowers her voice, whispering to me behind her wine glass. “I was kind of worried that when you got a boyfriend he wouldn’t mesh well with our dynamic, ya know? But it kind of feels like Daniel’s always been here.”

Her words vocalize the thoughts that have been ringing in my head all day. “I know what you mean.”

Katharine dramatically clears her throat. “Are you two done? Is it our turn yet?”

—-

We part ways from Ryan and Katharine in the hallway, giggling and shushing each other in the wee hours of the morning. I shut my door behind me and waggle my eyebrows at Daniel.

“Uh oh, there’s trouble,” he teases. “Planning to seduce me?”

I shrug exaggeratedly and he laughs before looking around. “Fuck, where are my sweatpants?”

I giggle. “They’re literally right behind you on the chair.”

“Oh, thanks.” He grabs them before looking at me. “Can I change in here tonight?”

I flush. “Yeah, sure.”

After sharing a room together all this time, this is the first time we’ve changed in front of each other and the thought makes my skin tingle. I make my way over to my dresser, pulling out my own sleep shorts and t-shirt. I wiggle out of my pants and pull on my shorts, glancing over my shoulder to see Daniel, shirtless, adjusting his sweatpants on his hips. My throat runs dry, and I turn around to pull my own shirt over my head, reaching behind me to unclip my bra once it’s on. I bundle my discarded clothes in my hand, walking over to toss them in the hamper. I turn around to find Daniel already looking at me. He’s still shirtless and my eyes drift to his defined chest. He looks down as if noticing for the first time.

“It’s really, uh, hot in here.” He speaks again. “Would it bother you if I slept shirtless?”

I shake my head, mentally screaming. “No, it is warm,” I agree, reaching up to put my hair in a bun on top of my head.

He watches me intently, and I laugh self consciously. “What?”

“Nothing. Just thinking about how this was the best Christmas I’ve had in a while.”

My face lights up. “Really?”

“Yeah.” I see his grin quirk up, and know something else is coming. “I’d say it was almost perfect.”

“Oh?” I question, finishing my bun. “Go on.”

“We fit in a lot of classic traditions today, but we missed one that I’m quite fond of.”

I look at him, trying to think of what it could be, as he takes a step closer to me.

“There wasn’t any mistletoe.”

I swallow. “There wasn’t.” I pause, my mind racing. Before I can fully think it through I find myself offering, “But we could pretend?”

“Hmm?” He murmurs, taking a step closer to me so he’s right in front of me now. I know he’s giving me a chance to take it back, or make a joke; I’m nervous, but I don’t want to take it back. I just really want to kiss him.

“I’d really like it if you had a perfect Christmas.”

“And you?” He questions softly. “What would make it a perfect Christmas for you?”

Instead of answering him, I reach up on my tiptoes to kiss him for a moment, pulling back to look him in the eyes. His eyes meet mine in some unspoken understanding, and then he’s dipping down to kiss me again.

He kisses me softly, delicately, like all the kisses at the wedding. He pulls back briefly to look at me, as if he still expects me to change my mind. I kiss him again, wanting there to be no doubt in his mind, and he kisses me back with purpose and passion, and I’m caught off guard by the weight of it. I gasp, and Daniel uses this opportunity to deepen the kiss, pulling me closer. It reminds me of our very first kiss back on his couch. My arms move around his neck, pulling our bodies flush together.

Daniel pulls away first, but barely, breathing hard, kissing down from my jaw to my neck.

This is definitely new territory for us.

I move my hands to his hair, and he groans at the feeling. I can’t help myself as I sigh breathlessly, a shiver running down my back. He grins against my neck, his teeth scraping at my skin and I moan softly.

“Wait,” I say breathlessly, a thought somehow flitting through my mind. “Earlier, didn’t you say there was something else I should know about my present?”

“I can tell you tomorrow,” he murmurs into my neck between kisses. “It’s time for bed.” He tugs me down onto the bed so I’m underneath him, resuming his kisses on my neck.

“This doesn't seem like going to sleep to me,” I tease.

“It is, shhhh, you’re dreaming.”

“That I’d believe,” I laugh, and Daniel smirks, moving so we're eye to eye again.

“Dream about me often?”

“Shhh.” I pull him closer, turning his words back on him. “You’re dreaming, go back to bed.”

“Happily,” he murmurs, kissing me again.

I bring my hands down to his bare shoulders, feeling his warm, toned skin against my fingertips. I gently drag my nails down his chest to his stomach, and I feel his muscles clench at my touch. I can’t help but smirk to myself as he pulls away to rest his forehead on my shoulder, letting out a shuddering breath. I bring my nails around his back, tracing up his taut muscles and across his shoulder blades.

I feel one of his hands come down, pushing my shirt up, his mouth pressing hot kisses to my abdomen. His nose takes over pushing my shirt up, exploring every new inch revealed with his mouth, his hand now running over my thigh, fingers squeezing occasionally, slowly climbing higher. As his hand reaches the bottom of my shorts, he lightly tugs at the fabric. He pauses, his blue eyes tentatively peering up at me.

“Can I…?” He looks nervous, like I’ll reject him. As if I have ever rejected him, or could ever manage to deny him. I’m not even entirely sure what he’s asking but I find myself nodding quickly. As he goes to tug my shorts down we hear a bang on the wall we share with Ryan followed by a crash, a “Shhhh” and a “Shit.”

We both startle and look over toward the wall, before looking back at each other and laughing softly.

“Ugh, I don’t want to know,” I say, shaking my head.

“You probably, definitely don’t.” He smiles at me before pulling his hand off my shorts, and my shirt back down, letting his fingers trace along the waistband of my shorts before he clears his throat. “We should, uh, get some sleep.”

I blink at the abrupt change in mood before nodding awkwardly. “Okay, sure.”

He rolls off of me, and I reach over to shut the lamp off. I’m hesitant to cuddle up to him, unsure if what just happened changed something between us, but I’m relieved when I feel his arm wrap around me the way it always does. Neither of us say anything, and I try not to think about the last few minutes, the firmness of his body behind mine, or the way my body’s buzzing— closing my eyes to try and get some rest.

—-

The next two days with my family go pretty much the same way as Christmas did. Daniel gets on swimmingly with everyone, and my heart aches every time I realize that once the holidays are over, our charade is going to come to an end—a permanent end— this time. I try to ignore that thought and enjoy my time, basking in the coupley moments in front of my family, and leaning into every touch we share.

I never get a chance to ask about my Christmas present; the time never feels right, and Daniel doesn’t bring it up either. Nothing happens between us like Christmas night; when bedtime rolls around we change in the bathroom and go straight to bed. We cuddle, but there’s no after-dark kisses or wandering hands. I wonder if Daniel feels as self-conscious about that night as I do; if he does, he doesn’t show it.

—-

We’re in my room packing to go back to LA in an effort to try to beat the inevitable New Year’s rush at the airport.

“I need to find something to wrap this in so it doesn’t break in my luggage,” I frown, holding up Daniel’s present. “It’s my new prized possession— nothing can happen to it.”

Daniel looks over and laughs. “Want me to wrap it in my sweatpants? That's what I did on the way here.”

“Okay, thank you.” I pad across the floor and pass him the frame, our fingers brushing in the process.

“Of course.” His lips quirk up as he carefully arranges the frame in his suitcase.

A moment passes, and I wonder if now is a good time to ask about my present .

“Hey, I’ve been wanting to ask—“

“Oh, I’ve been meaning to ask you—“

We both stop mid-sentence and Daniel laughs, “Sorry what were you saying?”

I shake my head, courage gone. “No— sorry, go ahead.”

He looks at me curiously but continues, “Henry texted me; he and Claire invited us to their New Year’s Eve party. They’re having it in LA this year.”

I quirk an eyebrow. “Us? They want me to go?”

He shrugs. “Yeah, Claire apparently requested your presence specifically.”

“Oh, that’s nice of her. I usually stay in for New Year’s.”

“It could be fun— if you aren’t sick of me yet,” Daniel teases.

“Ha!" I laugh, "If you aren’t sick of me yet, more like.” I shake my head. “And don’t mind sharing your friends with me.”

“They’re basically your friends now, too,” he argues.

“I’m not sure one wedding constitutes that, but I appreciate the sentiment.”

“You should come.”

I stop and look at him.

“I’ll call a car and pick you up on the way.”

When I hesitate, he softens his voice. “Please come.”

I swallow, “Okay.”

I’m not a big party person, but I also know I don’t have it in my heart to deny him, especially after everything he’s done for me.

He grins. “Really?”

I nod. “Yeah, I’ll go.”

“Cool, I’ll, uh, let them know we’re coming.”

I bite my lip to suppress my smile and start planning my outfit in my head.

—-

When we arrive at Claire and Henry’s house on New Year’s Eve, I try not to gawk at the size. It’s massive and sits high on one of the tallest hills in LA, away from the noise of the city.

The first person to spot us as we walk in is, unfortunately, Eleanor. I’d hoped she was in London, and away from us, but alas.

“Daniel!” she squeals, throwing her arms around him. “I was so hoping you’d be here.”

“Hi, El,” he placates her with a strained smile. “You remember Lauren?” He gestures back to me.

“Laura?” she asks, disinterested.

“Lauren,” I correct, forcing myself to smile. “Nice to see you again.”

“Eleanor,” Daniel intervenes. “Could you point us in the direction of Henry and Claire, perhaps?”

She frowns, but quickly covers it up. “They were in the kitchen last I checked— we have just got to catch up later.”

“We will!” He agrees graciously. “Let us get a drink, and I’m sure we'll have plenty of time to talk later.”

Daniel puts a hand on my back, guiding me forward and into another room, which turns out to be the kitchen. He’s immediately drawn into a series of bro hugs and handshakes by Henry and some of his other friends.

“Lauren! I’m so glad you came!” I turn to find Claire by a table of beverages.

“Claire! So nice to see you, thank you for inviting me.”

“Thank you for coming,” she says, pulling me into a quick hug. “I told Daniel he just had to bring you.”

I laugh. “He told me you were quite persistent— I usually have a low key New Year’s at home, but this is a fun change of pace.”

“Can I get you a drink?” She asks, already reaching for a bottle of champagne.

“Sure, thank you.” I catch Daniel’s eye across the room; he’s being clapped on the back and led out of the kitchen. I smile reassuringly, hoping to communicate that I’m fine here. He seems to understand, as he smiles back and nods before turning back to his friends.

Claire giggles, bringing my attention back to her.

“You look at him with such heart eyes, it’s cute.”

I try to keep my face from panicking. “Sorry?” She laughs like my reaction is the funniest thing in the world. “Oh don’t worry, he looks at you just the same, so you’re fine.”

I chuckle nervously. “I think maybe you’ve got the wrong impression—”

She shrugs like we’re talking about something commonplace, like the weather.

“Maybe, it’s possible... but I don’t think so. Now come! There’s some other girls I’d love for you to meet.”

—-

I spend a good portion of the night talking with Claire and her friends. They’re all very kind to me, but eventually I excuse myself to get some air out on the balcony.

I’m looking up at the sky — it’s dark, dotted with faint stars and a distant passing plane — when I hear somebody come out and join me. As they settle next to me against the railing I immediately know who it is just by how comfortable I feel.

“Whatcha doin out here, LaurLaur? The New Year’s only a few minutes away.”

I grin at him. “Just getting some air and admiring the stars. From up here you can actually see them.”

He hums, looking up with me.

“It reminds me of a certain piece of art a certain someone got me for Christmas.”

He chuckles. “I’m glad you like it so much.”

“It was very thoughtful…. I wonder if any of the stars are in the same places as they were that night.”

“Which night?”

“The night everything changed. Your birthday.”

Daniel leans against the railing facing me, and looks like he’s about to say something before he changes his mind.

Eventually he speaks again. “Things are going to change again soon, right? You said you’re sure about the break up?”

I swallow, scoffing my shoe against the balcony floor.

“I mean, we still need to figure it out, but you can’t keep fake dating me forever. That isn’t fair to you.”

He smiles wistfully. “It’s not like there was anyone else I was trying to date.”

“I’m a lucky girl,” I lament, and Daniel blushes and shakes his head. “It’s a real shame we’re over, though," I jest, trying to lighten the mood. "I’ve never gotten to kiss anyone at midnight.”

His eyebrows raise in surprise. “Never?”

“Nope,” I pop the p and look down at my feet.

“Well.” He clears his throat conspiratorially. “We can agree not to bring our fake relationship into the New Year if you want, but if the kiss starts before midnight, I think we’d get by on a technicality...”

I laugh. “You really want Eleanor to hate me, don’t you?”

He grins cheekily and shakes his head. “Nah, I think I saw her latched onto some other poor bugger inside. We’re in the clear.”

I roll my eyes, looking back up at the sky. I feel his finger trace my arm, gently using my elbow to turn my attention back towards him.

His voice is softer now, “It’s up to you, but there’s no one else I’d rather kiss at midnight.”

I look into his eyes and realize he’s being sincere. My heart’s beating out of my chest. Yes, I want to kiss him, but I want it to mean something. I keep giving in because I know one day this is all going to go away, and I’ll be left with just my memories and heartache.

He must see some hesitance in my eyes, because he’s taking a step back.

“If you don’t want to, it’s fine. Really.” He shoves his hands in his pockets. “Not trying to pressure you into doing something you don’t want to do.”

I shake my head. “It’s not that I don’t want to, I just…” I trail off, looking over the balcony, trying to swallow my feelings, which have manifested as anxious tears in my eyes. I feel a tear escape, and I hastily reach up to wipe it away.

“Hey,” Daniel says gently. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“You didn’t.” I let out a watery laugh. “Sorry, I don’t know why I’m…”

I feel his steady stare, and I come to terms with the fact that I’ve really gotten myself into a mess that I can’t just smooth over. I’m going to have to tell him.

I take a minute to compose myself, and Daniel stays quiet giving me time to put my words together as I look anywhere but at him.

“I do want to kiss you, D,” I start slowly, trying to keep my voice steady, “but I can’t if it’s just another part of our fake relationship.”

He tugs me closer by hand, gently, so I have no choice but to look at him. I swallow the lump in my throat. “I… know this wasn’t supposed to be real. But it has been, for me.”

He shakes his head and squeezes my hand. “So then stop trying to break up with me.”

I blink at him, and he continues.

“The night everything changed— your star map— I wasn’t referencing the story we told your family about my birthday.” Daniel looks at me long and hard like I’m missing something totally obvious. “It’s actually the stars from a night a month or so later.”

A month or two— Oh. OH.

“The night Ryan FaceTimed me?” I whisper, afraid to be wrong.

He takes my other hand in his, lacing our fingers together. “Listen— Fuck. I’m in love with you, Lauren.” He looks at me so intensely and my head is spinning. “I love you, and I’m in love with you.”

“What?” I ask dumbly.

He licks his lips. “A wise woman once said to me, you don’t confess to ‘kind of like someone’ when you’ve already been friends as long as we have.”

I stare at him for a second, my cheeks burning. “Well your friend sounds pretty smart.” I swallow. “Because I love you, too.”

He laughs, relief flooding his features. He pulls me to his chest, crushing me and squeezing the air out of my lungs. Eventually he pulls back, hands cupping my face.

He grins and shakes his head. “She is smart, so, so smart, but I don’t want to be her friend anymore.”

“What do you mean?” My brows furrow in confusion, worried that somehow I’ve misread this whole interaction, my relief quickly being replaced by panic.

“Well.” He steps forward, keeping our faces incredibly close. “I’m hoping she agrees to be my very real girlfriend— that is, if she doesn’t break up with me first.”

I hear everyone inside start the countdown to midnight. I’m still looking into Daniel’s eyes in disbelief, my hands clinging to the front of his shirt.

When the countdown hits one, I’ve finally found the words I want to say.

“Happy New Year, boyfriend.”

He’s grinning as he kisses me, and I am too. It’s not our most elegant kiss, a mess of teeth and giggles, and whispered “I love you”s. We never stray too far from each other’s lips, kissing again and again like we can’t get enough— and maybe we can’t.

Eventually, we calm down a bit, and when we kiss this time it’s all-consuming, sucking the air out of my lungs. It feels like my love is fizzling to the top of my skin, and I feel it. ‘It’ being every indescribable emotion in our kisses this past year, but this time I know what it is: true, unadulterated, uninhibited love. I am in love with my best friend, who is now my boyfriend, and I don’t care who knows it— as long as he does.

His fingers press bruisingly into my hips before he pulls back just enough to look at me.

“Can we go home?” He whispers sheepishly, brushing some hair out of my face tenderly. “I’m kind of tired of sharing you with the public.”

I huff a laugh. “I know exactly what you mean.” I lean forward to kiss him one last time before pulling back to lace our fingers together, squeezing tightly. “Please— take me home, D.”

I don’t have to tell him twice.

---

tagged: @rogershoe @heyrowena @yunsh-17 @trenko-heart @dylxnshxrmxn

#THE END!!!! #can you believe it?! #daniel sharman fluff #daniel sharman x oc #daniel sharman fanfiction #daniel sharman fanfic #daniel sharman fic #daniel sharman imagine #yellow lights

[classic80sand90smovieloves2]

Masterlist

A list of my old writing that you can request I revise

Song Prompts

Meeting and Dating Headcanons~

Pretty in Pink

Andie Walsh

Duckie Dale

Blane McDonagh

Steff McKee

Sixteen Candles 

Jake Ryan

The Lost Boys

Paul

Dwayne

Poly Lost Boys

Edgar Frog

The Breakfast Club

Brian Johnson

John Bender

Andrew Clark

The Outsiders

Sodapop Curtis

Dallas Winston

Two-Bit Mathews

Rumblefish

Steve Hays

Ferris Buellers Day Off

Cameron Frye

Karate Kid

Daniel Larusso

Johnny Lawrence

Dutch

Heathers

Veronica Sawyer

Jason Dean

Fast Times at Ridgemont High

Jeff Spicoli

Brad Hamilton

Better Off Dead 

Lane Meyer

Weird Science

Gary Wallace

Wyatt Donnelly

Dream A Little Dream

Dinger Holfield

Bill and Teds Excellent Adventure

Bill S. Preston Esquire

Ted Logan 

Dating Poly Bill and Ted 

The Princess Bride

Inigo Montoya

Interview with the Vampire

Louis de Pointe du Lac

Children of the Corn

Malachai Boardman

National Lampoons 

Rusty Griswold (European Vacation)

Cant Buy Me Love

Kenneth Wurman

The Chocolate War

Jerry Renault

Archie Costello

The Mighty Ducks

Fulton Reed

Dean Portman

Adam Banks

Les Averman

Porkys

Brian Schwartz

Anthony ‘Meat’ Tuperello

Tommy Turner

Tim Cavanaugh

Mickey Jarvis

Just One of the Guys

Terry Griffith

Greg Tolan

Dead Poets Society 

Neil Perry

Todd Anderson

Charlie Dalton

Knox Overstreet

Steven Meeks

Earth Girls are Easy

Mac

Combat Academy 

Perry Barnett

Waynes World

Garth Algar

Austin Powers

Austin Powers

Toy Soldiers

Ricardo Montoya

Good Will Hunting

Chuckie Sullivan

10 Things I Hate About You

Joey Donner

My Bodyguard

Ricky Linderman

Melvin Moody

Stand and Deliver

Angel Guzman

Something Wild 

Ray Sinclair

Three O’Clock High 

Buddy Revell

Intruder

Randy

Young Guns

Jose Chavez y Chavez

Billy the Kid

Doc Scurlock

Dazed and Confused

Benny O’Donnell

Don Dawson

Kevin Pickford

Randall “Pink” Floyd

Fred O’Bannion

Mitch Kramer

Ron Slater

Shavonne Wright

Dogfight

Eddie Birdlace

Ladybugs

Matthew

Goosebumps

Sticks

Freddy Renfield

Twister

Robert ‘Rabbit’ Nurick

Stand by me 

Ace Merrill

School Ties

Rip Van Kelt 

Chris Reece

The Untouchables

Eliot Ness

The Godfather

Tom Hagen

(Young) Vito Corleone

(Old) Vito Corleone

Goodfellas

Henry Hill

Little Shop of Horrors

Seymour Krelborn

Newsies

Specs

Near Dark

Severen

Friday the 13th

Jason Voorhees

Scream

Billy Loomis 

Poly Billy and  Stu

Stu Macher

The Craft

Nancy Downs

Hocus Pocus

Max Dennison

Thackery Binx

Beetlejuice

Lydia Deetz

Adam Maitland

The Crow

Eric Draven

Ghostbusters

Ray Stantz

Aliens

Bishop

An American Werewolf in London

Jack Goodman

Sleepaway Camp

Ricky Thomas

Re-animator

Herbert West

Silence of the Lambs

Clarice Starling

Fright Night

Jerry Dandridge

Candyman

Daniel Robitaille

The Evil Dead

Ash Williams

Sabrina the Teenage Witch

Harvey Kinkle

Buffy the Vampire Slayer

Spike

Full Metal Jacket

Sgt. Hartman

Joker

Animal Mother

Pyle

Preference~ the boys with an s/o whose ex stalks them

Grease

Kenickie

Labyrinth

Jareth

Total Recall

Douglas Quaid

Requested “Would Includes” and Imagines/Fics~

Darry falling for Johnny’s sister

Allison Reynolds dating a shy nerdy girl

Starting a family with Cameron Frye

Making out with Cameron Frye

Cameron Frye comforting you when you’re upset

Getting drunk with the Ferris Bueller crew

Gary Wallace dating a tall girl

George Mcfly with a dominant flirty s/o

Comforting and being comforted by Will Hunting

Will Hunting having a crush on you

Being apart of the good will hunting gang

Armand with a virgin s/o (including nsfw)

Lestat and Louis dating a girl who loves horror movies

Making out with Duckie Dale

Duckie Dale cheering you up

Cliff having a crush on you

Making out with Cliff

Making out with Bryce

Bryce having a crush on you

The Lost Boys with an s/o having an anxiety attack + fighting depression

The Lost Boys with a sweet and innocent s/o

The Lost Boys with a curvy mate

The Lost Boys fighting with their mates

The Lost Boys dating a shy short girl

The Lost Boys taking care of you when you’re hurt

Getting drunk with the Lost Boys would include

David x Laddies older sister

Making out with Edgar Frog

Being Married to Archie Costello

Going to the beach with Archie Costello

Making out with Archie Costello

Darrys girlfriend landing a job at a local cafe as a singer

Making out with Kenneth Wurman

Being Cindys friend and Ronalds crush

Harold Sherbico having a crush

Kim Kelly dating her polar opposite

Neil Perry dating an artist

Making out with Charlie Dalton

Jealous Charlie Dalton

Jealous Knox Overstreet

A study date with Steven Meeks

Spending the winter season with Neil Perry

Comforting Charlie Dalton after he gets expelled 

The dead poets walking in on Charlie and his secret, shy girlfriend 

Simon Boggs having a crush on Laneys friend

Faking It-Cindy Mancini falling for the girl who paid her to be her friend

Spike having a crush on you

Steff McKee having a crush on you

Marko having a crush on you

David having a crush on you 

Paul having a crush on you

Dwayne having a crush on you

Dwayne x vampire reader who dresses like Stevie Nicks

Making out with Keith Nelson

Meat having a crush on Peewees sister

Admit it- Mickey Jarvis and his future s/o having crushes on each other

Being a part of team USA and meeting Adam and Charlie

Dwayne Robertson having a crush on you

Sleepover with Bill and Ted (including nsfw)

Being pregnant with Ted Logans child

Starring in the schools Romeo and Juliet with Ted Logan

Ted Logan asking you to be his valentine

Spending Valentines day with Steff McKee

Spending Valentines day with Steven Meeks

Spending Valentines day with Keith Nelson

Spending your first Valentines day with Bryce

Wishing I Was Her (Nick Andopolis)

If You Want Out Just Say It (Ace Merrill)

Going on the Ferris adventure

Going on your own adventure with Cameron Frye

Making out with Randall ‘Pink’ Floyd

Travelling back in time with Marty McFly

Tommy Devito dating a chubby artist

Years Gone By (Michael Corleone)

Sonny Corleone dating his opposite

Phillipe Gaston x reader~ Fairy Tale 

Being Fulton's sister and Dating Dean Portman

Comforting Todd when he’s upset

Being married to Bill S. Preston Esquire

Being married to Ted Logan

Spending Halloween/October with Knox Overstreet

Making out with Knox

A will they, won’t they relationship with Seth Brundle

Falling in love with Edward Scissorhands

Dwayne Hicks with an Android!Technician s/o

Private Joker dating an artist 

Jareth falling in love with you

Being married to Matt Hooper and going to Amity

The way you make me feel~ John Bender

Being in a long term relationship with JD

J.D. with a chronically ill s/o

Archie with a chronically ill s/o

Making out with Ted Logan

Archibald Craven falling in love

Andy Dufresne falling in love

Nsfw Headcanons~ 

Group sex with the lost boys

Sam Emerson

Threesome with Obie and Archie

Armand

Archie Costello

(sub) Archie Costello

Obie

Johnny Cade

Cameron Frye

Duckie Dale

Blane

John Bender

Randy (Intruder)

Joey Donner

Kenneth Wurman

Keith Nelson

The Dead Poets Kinks

Knox Overstreet

Charlie Dalton

Steven Meeks

Todd Anderson

Neil Perry

Gerard Pitts

John Bender taking your virginity

Louis de Pointe du Lac

Dinger Holfield

The Lost Boys

JD

Randall ‘Pink’ Floyd

Benny O’donnell

Fred O’Bannion

Cliff

Bryce

Johnny Walker

George Mcfly

Brian Moreland

(sub) Perry Barnett 

Bill S. Preston Esquire

Ted Logan

Randy Meeks

Michael Emerson

Nancy Downs

Ray Stantz

Egon Spengler

Spike

Angel Guzman

Sgt. Hartman

Brad Hamilton

Douglas Quaid

Chris (night of the creeps)

Sonny Corleone with a shy, virgin s/o

George Mcfly getting jealous and being dominant

Grease Monkey (Keith Nelson smut)

Sins of the flesh and matters of the heart (David x reader + Dwayne smut)

#80s movies #80s imagine #80s movie imagine #80s movie headcanons #80s smut #80s movie imagines #80s movie headcanon #80s movie smut #90s movies #90s imagine #90s movie headcanon #90s movie imagine #90s movie headcanons #90s tv show imagine #90s tv headcanons

[multifandomfanfic]

Oceans Trilogy Masterlist

SMUT NOT AVAILABLE

^ - fluff

# - angst

Danny Ocean

Rusty Ryan

Linus Caldwell

Basher Tarr

Virgil Malloy

Turk Malloy

Terry Benedict

[shutupanddance]

Master Post

If you’re looking for my Master List, check out this link:

https://shutupanddance.tumblr.com/masterlist

Okay cool cats and kittens, I’m creating this master post to help you navigate my page and stay updated :) It will be pinned to my blog, and it will have my fandom list, my prompt list, my to-do list, any current events, and a few frequently asked questions. So, looking for information about requesting? Suggestions for requests? Or wondering what I’m currently working on? Don’t know if I’ve received your request? This is the place to look! Just keep on reading <3

Current Events 

None!

Fandoms

Here are the fandoms I write for!!

+ Marvel (MCU)

+ DC (DCU)

+ Sherlock

+ Star Wars (trilogies, Clone Wars, Rebels, Mandalorian)

+ Star Trek (reboots, original series)*

+ Pacific Rim

+ Knives Out

+ Night at the Museum

+ LOTR / The Hobbit

+ Jurassic Park/World

+ The West Wing*

+ NCIS*

*fandoms that you will see the most of on my blog.

Prompt List

(Does not include prompts from any current events) Here are some prompts that you can use for your request, or for your own writing! As a reminder, not all of these prompts are properly credited. Please let me know if you have the original creator’s @!

#1: “I’d agree with you, but then we’d both be wrong.”

#2: “Should I ask why you have a knife in your purse?”

”It’s a dagger, actually, and no you shouldn’t.”

#3: “Close your eyes and listen. And trust me.”

#4: Rosemary, broken glass, and an old gun.

#5: “Do you remember when I loved you?”

”No.”

”Good, because I never did.”

#6: “He saw the notice in the paper.”

”Why would you let him see the paper?”

”What was I supposed to do, eat it?”

#7: “I didn’t catch your name!”

”I didn’t throw it.”

#8: “I’m not better than you, but at least I’m not you. And right now, that’s worth a whole lot.”

#9: Romantic dinner, but something is wrong.

#10: Forehead kisses during an apocalypse

#11: “This isn’t BBC Sherlock! You can’t just run around administering justice as you see fit!

#12: Trying to get a smoke detector to shut up

#13: Falling out of a closet during Hide N Seek

#14: Revealing a dark secret, but it turns out that they already know

#15: Once upon a midnight dreary

#16: The odds were never in our favor

#17: If I should die, think only this of me

#18: Attack hugs

#19: Afraid of ladybugs

#20: The dumb*ss God couldn’t stop

#21: “There’s a rumor going around that you’re the one to ask if someone needs to acquire rare and dangerous objects.”

”There’s a rumor going around that you’re an undercover cop.”

#22: A parking lot, a coroner, and snails

#23: “You’re the only person I know who calls me that.”

#24: This is not a drill.

#25: It’s the price we pay to feel

#26: A character is cleaning/sweeping the floor when someone walks by with dirty shoes (via @writingprompts365 )

#27: “I’m back from my mission!”

““You failed it.”

““How’d you know?”

They point at the TV.

#28: A character is pushed into some bushes/plants/flowers (via @writingprompts365 )

#29: A character picks up a very shiny rock (same @)

#30: A character combs another character’s hair (same)

#31: A character is forced to have a conversation with someone they don’t like (same)

#32: Laughing hysterically at their own joke

#33: Stuck under the same umbrella

#34: ““Well, this is a nice change of scenery!”

““It’s a jail cell.”

““I was being sarcastic.”

#35: ““Let me just be perfectly clear that this was not my fault.”

#36: ““Can I buy you coffee? For old times sake?”

#37: Fake dating

#38: Huddling for warmth

#39: Being high on painkillers and confessing undying love to everyone

#40: “That’s starting to get annoying.”

#41: “I fell asleep on the bus and woke up here.”

#42: “It’s freaking cold.”

#43: “You’re not exactly known for your great ideas.”

#44: ““Can you keep a secret?”

#45: Character A lives above character B, and always drives B insane with how much stomping they do. One day, A’s foot goes right through the floor, into B’s apartment.

#45: Character A and Character B, sworn enemies, are chosen to prepare the company Christmas Party.

#46: you’re a security guard at an art gallery and you held the door for me so I left you a note in the door where we met I hope you read it

#47: Person A and Person B both trying to break into the same place on the same night by accident, only to be chased by the police upon meeting and having to hide in a closet/cupboard/safe together until they leave.

#48: the first and the last word they said to each other

#49: your kid hates my kid

#50: ‘picking them up’ hugs

#51: an incredibly loud and painful high-five

#52: "Let me fix that for you."

#53: “Can’t we listen to something else? We’ve been listening to this CD for three hours now.”

“You know, I would but the CD slot is broken so it’s either this or talk to each other.”

“I wouldn’t mind talking.”

“[turns up the music louder]”

#54: "My kiss quota for the day hasn't been filled. I need a thousand more."

#55: Person A making fun of Person B's bed head

#56: Squeeze three times for “I love you”

#57: writing a love letter but keeping it to themselves

#58: Messing around in IKEA

#59: “Hey - what’re you hiding behind your back?”

#60: going to a bookshop and selecting books for each other

#61: smiling at each other from across the room

#62: arms wrapping around your waist from behind while you’re on a phone call

#63: “ rich coming from the guy who tried to kill me three days ago. “

#64: message in a bottle

#65: becoming the parents of the friend group as soon as they start dating

#66: “I love you.”

“Ouch.”

#67: “We...we did it. We did it! Oh my God, I could kiss you.”

“Well, don’t be shy.”

My To-Do List

Here is everything that I’m currently working on! If you’ve sent a request in, and I see it, it should pop up here!

REQUEST SLOTS: FULL

+ Sherlock / Reader (not requested) undetermined topic

+ Rusty Ryan / Reader (not requested) #4

+ Sam Seaborn / Reader (requested) slow dancing

*anything with an asterisks has already been started.

Tag List

@girloncorneliastreet​ for The West Wing

@wolviesbabes​ for Gibbs / Reader

Frequently Asked Questions

How do I submit a request? When you look at my blog, there is a link titled “Asks/Requests”. Click that, and submit something!

How specific does my request have to be? More detail is always better if you’re looking for something specific, but if you’re not picky, it’s no big deal! Even if you just say “could I have some more Spock content please?” I’ll answer it!

Do you write smut? Nope! Not for me.

Are your requests open? Not at the moment! They will be soon, though.

What do I do if your requests are closed? Send it later, when they’re open again!

Do you have a master list? I do! I also have a tag called #masterlist, which all of my work is under. You can access the master list itself by navigating to the page on my blog, or just clicking the link at the top of this post!

What’s your name? You can call me C :)

Why didn’t you reblog my post about social justice? In order to avoid burnout for myself and my followers, I am doing my best to keep this blog free of anything other than fan content. This does not mean that I disagree or agree with you, it just means that I’m not commenting. I do not need to participate in internet social justice activity when I am already an activist on other platforms, including real life.

What can I send asks or messages about? Anything!! Life updates, random questions, whatever! I love to hear from you <3

That’s all, folks!

[darling-i-read-it]

Movie Nights

Rusty Ryan x reader

Word Count: 900

Warnings: smut, fingering

Author’s Note: I hope you like this love! I’ve never written anything like this before so it might be total shit but I can’t tell lol

Requested: by @lovewinston21​, Okay!! So I had this idea when I was watching Ocean’s 11 a few days ago: Y/N and the boys are watching TV and she is sitting in the flow between Rusty’s legs and there is a blanket over them. Rusty starts fingering her under the blanket, and she tries super hard to keep quiet and keeps throwing her head back on his shoulder (I just imagine him grinning at the tv while this happens). The other boys have no clue and they keep asking you if you’re okay and stuff. Right before you orgasm Rusty stops and pulls you to your room and you continue there.

Summary: the request 

Genre: smut

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director 

(not my gif)

“I don’t understand why she gets to be here and Tess can’t be,” Danny said to Rusty as he walked into the door of your house together. Rusty gave him a pat on the back while keeping his hand firmly on yours.

“Because this is my house. If you want to bring Tess you’re welcome to but I don’t she would even want to come,” Rusty said. You laughed and nodded.

“I love her but she is way more high mantience than the rest of us.” Danny walked into the living room where the rest of the guys were sitting. You let out a sigh as you counted the heads which confirmed that everyone was there.

You and Rusty often held movie nights for when his friends wanted to come over and wind down. There were good snacks and beer and sexy girls that you toleratted on screen. It always ended up being a blast and mostly everyone stayed late to play a game of pool. 

“Popcorn,” you said as you brought two bowls in the room.

“Damn Rusty you got a girl and popcorn,” Linus joked. You laughed and sat down on the loveseat with Rusty. Everyone faced the TV as you fiddled with the control to turn it on.

“You just have to be nice and bring her her drinks,” Rusty prommised as you got settled between his legs. He had his legs around your waist and you were nestled on top of him as the movie started.

You weren’t sure what it was because Rusty usually picks the movies but it actually seemed pretty interesting. You were enthralled most of the way through it and the guys had a bit of banter at the beginning until eventually everyone just started to focus on the movie.

About half way through your felt Rustys arms start to fidget. You didn’t think anything of it. He was probably getting tired with half your body weight on top of him anyway so you couldn’t blame him. 

You tried not to notice until his hand started to get lower down your body. You got a little concerned when it halted at your stomach. You let out a sharp breath as he started to lift up the waistband of your pants. 

You looked behind you but he was focused on the movie as though nothing was happening. You looked around you to make sure no one was paying attention. You had a blanket over your waist but still you might be able to see movement if you looked hard enough. These were boys, they might look hard enough. That being said no one was looking and the love seat was situated so that there was a wall of chair between you and everyone else and you were sunk low enough to not be able to see much except Rusty behind you and the TV screen.

Rustys cold hand started to go under your underwear and you hit his arm but that didn’t stop him. His fingers moved even further down and he still wasn’t looking at you. You let out a sigh as one finger slipped inside of you. You were wet enough that it went in with ease which made it easier for Rusty.

He started to move, achingly slow but it still got you going. Between him, the room and the people in it the situation was getting you heated and if he kept going like that you weren’t going to last for long. 

Your hand flew up and grabbed his arm as you started to orgasm but very quickly his finger halted inside of you. You turned to him and he shrugged. 

“If you don’t meet me in the bedroom-” you chastised as quietly as you could so that no one else could hear you.

“The movie,” he pretended to complain. You gave him a look and he nodded. “Well you get up first.” You let out an annoyed sigh and got up angrily, causing everyone to look at you. You smiled sweetly.

“Gotta go to the bathroom.” Rusty stood up quickly.

“Yeah me too.” 

Danny let out a huff.

“Again, why can’t I bring Tess?”

#rusty ryan x reader #rusty ryan imagines

[estel-of-irysi]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Ocean's 8 (2018) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Lou Miller/Debbie Ocean, Lou Miller & Debbie Ocean Characters: Lou Miller (Ocean's), Debbie Ocean, Rusty Ryan Additional Tags: Post-Canon, Lou POV, Background Rusty Ryan/Danny Ocean, but Danny is dead (sorry), Stripping, Pole Dancing, (in the past), Flashbacks, How They Met, Masturbation, Vibrators, wand vibe, Video Cameras, 69 (Sex Position), Multiple Orgasms, Engaged Couple, Established Relationship, Smut, Fluff and Smut, Fluff, Talking Series: Part 17 of Heistwives Toybox

Summary:

Not long after Debbie asks Lou to marry her, Rusty comes to visit. He mentions a time where Debbie would have done anything for money. Lou asks her about it later, and Debbie explains.

Preview: 

“Lou thought herself back, tried to match the blurry memories of the dancers she had watched with the image of Debbie before her. But she hadn’t been in those clubs for the girls, or at least, not only for the girls. She was always there for the easy money. She imagined Debbie as one of the women whose faces she didn’t remember – long legs, swaying hips, spinning around and around and around…”

Thank you to @littlesarux for the pole dancing prompt, to the anon you requested 69, and to “dot .” on AO3 who requested the video recording. I hope you all enjoy! 

#lou miller #debbie ocean #debbie x lou #lou x debbie #loubbie #heist wives #heistwives #heistwives toybox #heist wives toybox #ocean's 8 #ocean's eight #o8 #toybox request #fanfic prompt #ao3 #hope_savaria

[tetrakys]

Okay. What type of sex and what positions do you think Nath, Castiel and Rayan like best? 🔥(Sorry for my english)

Never apologise for your english anon (which looks perfectly fine to me anyway), most of us here are communicating in a language that is not our own and we should be applauded for that, whatever the result.

About your question 👀 we kinda got an answer in episode 16, however it’s true that only Rayan actually picked the position. Castiel was about to, but then Candy took charge, and Nath was ambushed in the shower, so there wasn’t much of a choice there either. I do have some thoughts:

Rayan: Ryan is quite passionate, but he has also this very careful and protective side, so I really liked and found very much in character that Candy sometimes kinda has to jump on him because he’s being attentive and instead she just wants to have her way with him 😂 but once he lets go, the prof is diiiiiiiirty 👀 I mean, look at the position he picked, he really didn’t go for the soft look in each others eyes love making. And he also had to be a little rusty since it had been more than 7 years, instead he went at it like a pro! 👏👏 I really like this dichotomy in his personality. I was a little disappointed at first by Rayan’s route because in my mind I was hoping for something dark and dangerous, instead the guy is a charming dork and I think it’s the funniest route, there are definitely some of the funniest moments of the whole game. But back to the smut, I’ve only ever had ONE desire from him: f*ck Candy on his desk. I doubt it’s going to happen at this point, but you never know… a farwell to Anteros in style, going out with a bang, literally. Come on Rayan, apparently you like giving it from the side/back, just bend Candy over the desk already!

Nath: I know many people hated the shower scene, but I liked it, a lot 🔥 I found it so meaningful, all the angst, and the worry, and wanting to feel as close as possible because it might’ve been the last time… I’m such a sucker for these things. I also liked the spontaneity and the way it played out. And while he was somehow (happily) ambushed and didn’t have much of a choice about positions, he could’ve taken Candy from behind, it would’ve been much easier for him. Instead he went for the most difficult possible position, especially so because he was injured. I think it says a lot, they wanted to feel close and together as much as possible, he was literally eating her alive, mouth on mouth, gazes locked. Nath was shyer in HS, but he’s not now. He likes taking charge and I would totally see him in domineering positions. He’s literally the f*ck against the wall type.

Castiel: Babe wanted to be the one to f*ck, but he gladly let Candy run the show, another demonstration of his maturity and seriousness. I see him much like Nath but, while Nath has a vain of wilderness and desperation in his banging, due to all his past and current situation, Castiel is much more level-headed. You can tell it from the way he approached the ons. He also has knowledge and practice, I bet he’s the one with the best technique 👀 when I imagine Castiel’s smut scenes I usually think about a very good missionary with him completely in charge, or them both sitting down on the couch with Candy straddling him and him helping her guiding her movements.

#my candy love #mcl #mclul #amour sucré #mcl castiel #mcl nath #mcl rayan #lemon

[bards-witcher]

Can I request some Terrormoohm smut? Everyone goes bottom and everyone goes top!

So it’s been a while, my writing skills are probably rusty as hell and I apologize for that, but I hope you enjoy all the same, I’m going to try and slowly churn these fics out so please don’t send meany more requests, thanks again :D

Warning: Explicit

.

[Brian POV]

It had been long week to say the least, whilst he loved having had the chance to go to E3 over the weekend and see his friends as well, it was his first one without Brock, the older man having made the decision to instead stay at home with Ryan who was normally left at home by himself whilst the two of them went to conventions.

Not only that, but he’d had some errands to run over in Ireland, figuring it was easier to get them all done with in one go, even if it did mean spending longer away from his boyfriends than he wanted.

The situation wasn’t ideal, and he missed them both like hell, but he’s grateful that at least for once Ryan didn’t have to be home alone, even if it was somewhat torturous for him.

He loved them both dearly, but he was ready to strangle the both of them when he got back home after having been inundated with various flirty texts, dirty pictures and extremely explicit videos that left him blushing even in the safety of his hotel room, a fact that hadn’t go unnoticed by his friends and made him the source of endless ribbing.

Nevertheless, as soon as he stepped through the front door of their house he felt like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders and took a quick moment to simply take a breath and enjoy the feeling of being home, however, that thought was quickly intruded with the one that questioned why he hadn’t been swarmed by his two boyfriends yet, a question that was quickly answered by a long moan from the bedroom whom he knew to be from Ryan.

He left his case by the door, already anticipating Brock and Ryan chastising him about it, but at the sound of another moan he decided it was worth it as he rounded the corner and froze in the doorway to their bedroom, there on the bed his two boyfriends were trying as best as they could to fuck themselves on a double-ended dildo.

Without thinking he reached a hand down to begin palming at his dick, enraptured at the sight of them trying to get as much friction as they could, but he could tell it was nowhere near enough with the few frustrated whines he could make out from them, which only increased the more they tried to move.

As good as the sight was, it wasn’t long before he took pity on them and cleared his throat to let them know he was back, and it was almost comical the way that both of their heads shot up to stare at him.

He watched them both scramble to get up off of the bed to meet him, quickly finding his arms filled with both of his boyfriends who seemed to fight over who would be kissing him whilst their fingers were keen to explore every inch of him, something which was more than okay with him if he could at least break away long enough to get a breath of air.

After the first few hectic minutes passed where he’s sure some part of his clothes ripped they finally ease into the simple familiarity that they’ve always had, and he soon finds Ryan kneeling in front of him, making quick work of unbuttoning his jeans, whilst Brock took off his shirt.

He’s barely given a chance to breathe before he felt Ryan’s mouth on his dick, the way the other man sucked him all the way down to the base quickly made him breathless, but he doesn’t even have a chance to compose himself before Brocks’ mouth is on his and quickly takes advantage of his surprise so that his tongue can begin to explore his mouth.

He tangled a hand in Ryans’ hair as the other man quickly fell into an irregular rhythm in an effort to try and drive him closer to his orgasm, and he couldn’t deny that this, combined with the fact that he’d been away from the both of them for the past week meant that he was close to coming after an embarrassingly short time.

He doesn’t know whether he’s grateful or not for Ryan pulling off of him, just that he can’t stop his small whine into Brocks’ mouth once his dick hits the cold air of the room, but then it’s the other man’s turn to moan and a quick look down tells him that Ryan has moved on to sucking Brocks’ dick, which the sight of alone is enough to have him coming if he hadn’t quickly wrapped his hand around his dick to prevent it.

The small chuckle from Brock at the fact doesn’t go unnoticed, and he’s quickly pulling away from the both of them, mainly so that he could have a chance to get his bearings, which would’ve been possible if not for the sight that greeted him, Brock flushed and lightly biting his lower lip as he let out small whines whilst Ryan continued to suck his dick with practiced ease.

He could quite easily watch the two of them all night, but he can’t deny how badly he wants to fuck the both of them, especially as payback for all the inappropriate, but appreciated, videos he’d been sent when he was away.

Without wasting another minute he walked back over to his two boyfriends and with a gentle hand in Ryans’ hair carefully pulled him off of Brock, leaving the older man panting slightly as he stared up at the both of them, before with a low growl in Brocks’ ear told him to lay on the bed.

He watches the brief flash of mischief in Brocks’ eyes for a moment, the other man clearly debating on whether he should follow through with the order or stay and tease him a little more, but seemingly Brock is too desperate to mess around tonight and with a final brief kiss he slowly made his way back to the bed.

His eyes followed after Brock for a moment, watching as the other man slowly lay back on the bed before picking up the forgotten dildo and slowly pushed it back into himself, a fact which had all three of them let out some sort of groan, but before he could become too fixated on the sight of Brock slowly fucking himself a warm mouth sucking on the tip of his dick, and earning a sharp hiss from him, quickly got his attention.

“Fockin’ hell Ryan” The other man took that at his approval to continue and he soon found Ryans’ mouth sucking him back down to the hilt and it was through sheer willpower that he not only didn’t come right there and then, but also pulled the older man up off of the floor to face him.

Before he could let Ryan make some teasing remark he pulled him into a kiss, one that quickly became heated and had the both of them letting small moans into the others mouth whilst he let a hand wander down to first palm at the other man’s ass a little before he slowly began to push a teasing finger into his hole.

His actions quickly had Ryan clinging onto him and letting out a low moan, begging for more, and he couldn’t help but chuckle at the fact he so easily made the man putty in his hands “Ye miss me Ry?”

The only answer he got was a small moan from the other man whilst they kissed, and he quickly decided that that wasn’t good enough “I didn’t hear you”

As if to reaffirm his comment he quickly thrust his finger to where he knew the other man’s prostate was and sure enough the low whine from Ryan told him he’d found it, where he then stilled his finger knowing that the feeling would be torturing the other man.

“Yes, course I missed you” Infinitely happier with the response he decided to abuse the Ryans’ prostate just a little more, earning himself a few more strained moans from the other man before he reluctantly pulled himself away just a little, but before he could start teasing the other man even further Ryan instead dragged him towards the bed.

He’s greeted with the sight of Brock fucking himself teasingly slow, eyes never leaving his as he let out small moans and pleas, and after Ryan leaves his side to do god knows what, he finds that he can’t stop himself from climbing up on the bed to get even closer to the other man and without blinking grabbed the man’s wrist to stop him from fucking himself.

Without saying a word he slowly moved his hand to the end of the dildo, moving it around a little just to tease Brock, which from the way the other man’s eyelids fluttered closed and the breathless exhale of air he could tell worked.

However, the sight of Brock in front of him, practically begging for him had him abandon any ideas of trying to draw out the foreplay as he carefully pulled the dildo out of the other man and chucked it to the other side of the bed before taking his space between Brocks’ legs.

Almost immediately the other man latched onto him and he couldn’t stop his small chuckle as he began to press small kisses against Brocks’ shoulder, gradually making his way up to his neck and along his jaw so that he could finally press their mouths together.

It was then that he decided to make his move, grabbing the tube of lube that had miraculously appeared at his side, courtesy of Ryan he’s sure, before giving his dick a couple of strokes and wiping off the excess on Brocks’ leg, earning a small grunt from the man which he quickly silenced by pressing their mouths together.

He slowly pushed into the other man until he was fully seated, both he and Brock letting out the breath they’d been holding, and yet he couldn’t get rid of the wide smile on his face at the sight of the man below him, swearing then and there he wouldn’t leave them behind again.

As happy as he was to simply stay there and try to remember the position of each freckle on Brocks’ face, the other man clearly had other ideas, as it was the legs around his waist that pulled him even closer to Brock and just that much deeper into him, and quickly getting what was meant by that action he slowly began to thrust in and out of the other man.

He had been hoping to draw this time out between them even longer, but he soon found he couldn’t hold back his need for much longer and soon started to fuck the other man with abandon, the small pleas for more from Brocks’ lips only spurring him on to thrust even harder.

At least that was until he felt Ryan settle behind him, and the forceful hands of the older man on his hips quickly had him slowing down his pace, much to his dismay, but the small smile on Brocks’ face told him that it was all intended, and sure enough he soon felt a lubed finger begin to probe at his hole and he quickly got the hint.

He kept his hips still as Ryan gradually worked on prepping him, and whilst he may have agreed to it, it was apparent that Brock was becoming somewhat impatient now that he wasn’t being fucked, which he quickly sought to placate with small kisses which quickly turned into sucking harsh marks along his neck, something he knew the other man was too proud to say that he enjoyed.

It’s still not enough though and with a brief look from Brock over his shoulder, he felt Ryan move away, he doesn’t want to admit that he whined when Ryans’ fingers left him, but the small chuckle and the kiss pressed to the back of his shoulder told him that the other man was far from done with him yet.

He’s barely pulled out of Brock before a forceful hand on his hip meant that he was being flipped so that he was now laying on his back, with the next thing he knew is that suddenly Brock was straddling his lap, any protest to his treatment fell dead on his lips as the other man slowly sank down onto his dick and didn’t waste a moment before he began moving his hips in a way that Brock knew drove him crazy.

Before he could get used to that though, suddenly three of Ryans’ fingers are pressing into him and he can’t help the low groan as he helplessly tried to thrust between Brocks’ hole and Ryans’ fingers, desperate now to try and get some relief, despite how futile it was given his position.

He opened his eyes then, his mouth immediately falling into a smile at the sight of Brock and Ryan making out in front of him, a sight he could never get enough of, and he can’t help but groan in displeasure when they stop or his plea to Brock when the other man gets up off of him and moves to the side.

He quickly feels the cold of the room, but soon the space is taken up by Ryan who’s now eagerly mouthing at the part of his neck that leaves him a babbling mess, and it’s with a particular sharp graze of his teeth that Ryan starts pushing into him, unable to stop the small hiss that leaves him at the intrusion.

Ryan stops his movement immediately which he’s silently grateful for, but the other part of his brain is too far gone to care as he tried to move his hips a little to try and get Ryan deeper inside of him.

A hand on his dick has him pausing for a moment and bite down on his lip hard enough to draw blood in an effort to keep back his moan, turning his head where he could see a rather smug-looking Brock who simply started leisurely moving his hand at a painfully slow pace whilst Ryan finished bottoming out inside of him.

He’s barely given a chance to adjust before Ryan is slowly pulling out and giving a small shallow thrust into him, but even when he finally gets used to the movement the other man is insistent on keeping the slow pace.

“Ry, quit being a tease, least you had me here to keep you happy, Brian was by himself “ He offers Brock a smile then, glad the other man was taking his side, but still Ryan fucked him at a torturous pace.

“Maybe Brian shouldn’t go away for so long then”

“Show me how much you missed me and maybe I’ll stay behind next time” He offered a smug smile, already knowing that Ryan wouldn’t back down on the challenge and soon enough he found the air being forced out of him as the other man gave a particularly harsh thrust into him.

He’s not given a chance to recover as Ryan quickly fucks into him again and again, coupled with Brocks’ hand still slowly jerking him off soon leaves him a babbling mess as he tried to cling onto Ryans’ shoulders for any sort of purchase, but in the end only left indents up and down his back from his fingernails.

It came to some surprise then when Ryan started to slow down, hoping that through his incoherent babbling the other man understood that he wanted him to continue fucking him, but he was so far gone he hadn’t even realized Brock had left his place next to him, at least until he saw the other man peering over Ryans’ shoulder to whisper something in his ear which only made him shiver.

Given how Ryan quickly became tense and the way he bit his lip to keep back his groan, it didn’t take a genius to figure out that Brock was pushing into him so that he could fuck Ryan whilst Ryan fucked him, a thought which was always unbelievably hot to him and wasn’t lost on him now given the way his forgotten dick twitched a couple of times in anticipation.

Thankfully with every small thrust Brock gave into Ryan, it also forced Ryan to move a little in him, and it wasn’t long before the two men above him quickly fell into a rhythm, or at least Ryan fell into a rhythm, the older man quickly snapping his hips so that he was either fucking into him or fucking himself back onto Brock.

He doesn’t realize how close he is to his orgasm, but Ryan fucking him with abandon now as he too chases his own pleasure, his dick hitting his prostate with every other thrust has him nearing the edge, and sure enough it’s when Brock decides to weigh in by setting a pace that instead means he fucking Ryan into him that finally has him coming with a shout.

The two of them continue fucking him as he rode out his orgasm, and he knew Ryan at least is almost there with him, but the overstimulation is quickly becoming too much and writhes underneath them in an effort to get away so that he could catch his breath.

Luckily for him, Brock seemed to be a mind reader as the other man looped an arm around Ryans’ waist and slowly pulled him away so that he’s not too uncomfortable when Ryan pulls out, before sitting them both up so Ryans’ settled nicely in Brocks lap, who’s now taken to gently fucking up into him.

He watches the two of them for a moment, watches as Ryan tries to move a hand to his dick to get some relief, but Brock simply pinned his wrist to his side instead before tilting his head so that he could slowly kiss a trail along Ryans’ jaw before bringing him into a long languid kiss.

The sight alone is enough to have his dick twitching again and after taking another moment to memorize the picture in front of him just that bit longer he gets up to join them.

He doesn’t interrupt their slow kiss as he instead starts to tentatively kiss across Ryan’s chest, diverting briefly so that he could tug a little at his nipple, earning a small grunt from the other man before he moved to give some attention to his other nipple.

Not done teasing he also ventures a hand down to loosely wrap around Ryans’ dick, chuckling a little when he feels it twitch in his hand, but continues his movements all the same as he hears the other man’s breath grow even more labored.

After he’s done teasing at his nipples he pulls away slightly, intent on giving a similar treatment to Ryans’ neck, only he’s instead met with both of them staring down at him with hunger in their eyes, and before he knows it a hand in his hair is quickly tugging him up and the next thing he knows he’s making out with Ryan.

He groaned into the kiss, eager to make the most out it and explore as much as he could, but just as he’s falling into a sort of rhythm he’s pulled away again and suddenly he’s kissing Brock, putting as much fervor into this kiss as he had when kissing Ryan.

He hates that he had to pull away to get a breath of air, but as soon as he does he’s diving back in to kiss Brock again, only indulging himself a little before he pulls away so that he could bring Ryan into another rough kiss which he can hear earns a small growl from Brock.

Sure enough, when he pulls away for another breath of air, Brock instead tugs Ryan in for another kiss as some sort of payback, leaving him to latch onto Ryans’ neck and suck a dark possessive mark onto it that has the other man groaning into the kiss he’s sharing with Brock.

With the small whines he can make out from Ryan with his kiss with Brock he can tell the man is close, even if Brock had long stopped fucking him and it was just his hand still jerking him off giving him any pleasure, so he decided to put an end to that and make the man wait just a bit longer for his relief.

He gives a small tap on Brocks’ hip, giving him the hint to move, and it’s with a final stroke that he takes his hand off of Ryan, earning a small whine of indignation from the man, which soon turns into a full-on protest when Brock pulls out of him.

He leaned forward to bring the other man into a slow kiss in an effort to placate him, but it ends far too soon for his liking and after it he soon finds himself being manhandled back against the bed with Brock then leaning over him, a soft smile on his face.

He too can’t keep the smile from his face as he looped his arms around the other man’s shoulders, pressing small kisses across his face in between whispered promises until he finally felt Brock start to push into him.

A quick glance to his side had him see Ryan watching the two of them whilst he slowly jerked off, and whilst he doesn’t blame the man for doing so, he quickly reached over to wrap his hand harshly around the man’s dick to stop him from coming, only earning him a frustrated grunt from the older man whilst Brock just chuckled at the scene.

“You ain’t comin’ jus’ yet Ry”

“But you’ve-“

“It’s my welcome back, you come when I say you can” He can see the other man weigh the ultimatum in his eyes, and whilst following rules isn’t Ryans’ biggest strength, he can see that he’s won from the look that soon crosses the other man’s face, having clearly decided that the payoff will be better than whatever punishment he would have gotten.

He only took his eyes off of Ryan briefly so that he could look back up at Brock, leaning up to press their mouths together and whining when the other man dared to pull away, which only earned a small chuckle from both Brock and Ryan, but at this point he didn’t care, he’d spent too long away from them and he was intent on spending every moment he could with them, the situation not helped when he felt Ryan wrap a hand around his dick and start to slowly jerk him off.

Despite having come not too long ago, the fact that he’s back with his two partners, one of whom is in between his legs and the other with a hand on his dick meant that he’s hard in no time and it’s then that he felt Brock begin to push into him, causing him to let out a breathless sigh into their kiss, the other man not wasting any time before he slowly started to move inside of him.

As was typical, the work of both Brock and Ryan soon had him unable to keep back his moans, and whilst he didn’t care how loud he was being, he knew that after the noise complaints they’d had in the past that Brock was always conscious about it now, and sure enough he soon felt a hand on his chin which made him turn his head to the side where he’s briefly met with Ryan smiling at him before suddenly they’re kissing.

It’s not long before he can feel himself getting closer to his second orgasm, Brock still unrelenting in the way he pounded into him, not that he was complaining, but just as he was getting near, Ryan moved away from him.

He tried to raise a hand to keep the other man’s face there so he could keep making out with him, but Ryan was too fast, and he only whined further when the other man’s hand also left his dick which soon had him lamenting his release.

He figured then that he’d focus on Brock so that it was only a matter of time before Ryan got jealous and came back to him, however, before he could even think about pulling the other man closer to him, Brock was pulling away and out of him.

Turning he saw Ryan pull Brock back onto the bed until he’s laying down next to him, and in the next moment Ryan was straddling him, a smug smile on his face aimed at him whilst he slowly sank down further onto his dick, and only when he was nestled against Brocks’ hips did he start moving his hips, pulling out all of his tricks to try and edge the other man closer to his orgasm which they all knew was near.

“The fuck Ry, Brock was fockin’ me”

“Yeah but you looked like you were having so much fun and I wanted in” Despite the teasing, he really did try to keep a straight face, but the way Brock tsskd, stopping Ryan in his tracks before giving him a stern look soon had him trying to keep back his laughter.

“Ryan, I thought we agreed tonight was about Bri”

He watched as Ryan hummed an affirmative whilst slowly kissing across Brocks’ chest, all the while he tried to grind his hips down a little to try and get some friction “but like I said, I wanted in on the fun”

“Ryan, there’s a perfectly good seat right here” He waved his hand towards his dick which was starting to feel somewhat neglected now that Brock and Ryan had left him “Plus it’s bigger than Brocks”

He couldn’t help but chuckle, even as the older man half-heartedly slapped him across the chest in retaliation for the comment, but nevertheless he was filled with silent glee that they’d finally be doing something again as he saw Ryan slowly climb off of Brock before moving to sit across his lap, not wasting any time before he began to sit on his dick.

The feeling of Ryan slowly sinking down on him had him lose what little control he had and he couldn’t help but give a thrust upwards in an effort to bury himself inside the other man, earning a small gasp from the older man before he saw the challenging smile Ryan gave in return and suddenly the other man gave as good as he got, riding him as if his life depended on it.

He’s so tempted then to pull the other man down instead to bring him into a kiss, sure it meant that he wouldn’t be able to fuck up into him like he wanted, but it was just something about kissing Ryan and Brock that he couldn’t get enough of and would happily do for hours at a time if either of them allowed him to.

However, a movement in the corner of his eye caught his attention and he turned his head in time to see Brock sidle up behind Ryan, and for a moment he thought the other man would resume fucking him, but instead Brock just gave him a wink before with a rough hand in Ryans’ hair, pulled the man’s head so that they could kiss messily over his shoulder.

He can’t keep back his moan at the small show they’re putting on for him, picking up his thrusts into Ryan slightly as the sight of the two of them making out only pushes him further, a couple of times when they parted he thought that he’d get a chance to kiss either one of them, but instead they dove right back into making out with each other.

It’s not that he doesn’t enjoy the sight, but he can’t help but feel that small prickle of jealousy as the two of them continue as if he wasn’t there, he says even as Ryan was slowly moving on his dick, just not with the same fervor as before.

Eventually he’s had enough, and when they next break for air he’s leaning up to pull Ryan back down with him, ignoring the man’s slight shout of surprise which soon turns into a laugh before he harshly brings their lips together, not wasting any time before he’s exploring the other man’s mouth with his tongue, all the while he starts fucking up into him with abandon and leaving Ryan a moaning mess.

So invested in his kiss with Ryan he’s somewhat surprised at the sharp slap he hears break through the relative quiet of the room, breaking apart from the older man who’s now groaning in feigned pain whilst he stops moving his hips on his dick to instead rub at the bright red handprint on his ass.

“Brock, what the hell was that”

“What, I wanted in on the fun” He couldn’t help but chuckle as Ryan simply rolled his eyes at the fact, but still made no effort to move “C’mon babe, I did warn you but you were to busy sticking your tongue down Bri’s throat to pay attention”

“mmm hmm” With that Ryan turned and was moving to bring him into another kiss, but a second sharp slap stopped him in his tracks.

“I’ll keep slapping your ass until you move, I wanna kiss Brian as well” For a moment he can see Ryan weigh the idea of it in his mind but at the sight of Brocks’ hand moving back for another slap, the other man is left reeling as he slowly gets up off of him, but still blocks the way between he and Brock.

“Fine, but only if you kiss me first”

He saw Brock simply roll his eyes but nevertheless he leaned in to press their lips together, although what he expected to be a relatively short kiss between them quickly became a similar make out session as the one they had before, and he’d be damned if he let them carry on for as long as they did last time.

“For focks sake, I ain’t lettin’ ye fockers’ pull this shit again” With that he leaned forward, bypassing Ryan to instead latch onto Brock and bring him back down, ignoring Ryan’s shout of protest as he was all but shoved out of the way, only he couldn’t find it in himself to care now that he had the chance to explore Brocks’ mouth.

He eagerly wrapped his legs around the other man’s waist, waiting in anticipation for Brock to push into him again, letting out a somewhat guttural moan when the other man finally did so, only once settled he didn’t move, just held himself above him as they continued to kiss, but his want for more soon had him writhing under Brock in an effort to try and get any friction he could.

Before he could protest Brocks’ lack of movement he felt the other man moan into his mouth and his teeth bite down on his lower lip harsher than he expected before Brock pulled away to take a couple of shuddering breaths only to look over his shoulder, to who he assumed was Ryan.

“You’re a fucking ass, Ry”

“No, I’m gonna be fucking your ass Brock” He heard that all too familiar giggle that told him Ryan was probably doing something he shouldn’t, and sure enough, although Brock was already fully inside him, in a movement he felt him push even deeper, rubbing on his prostate enough so that he could see stars.

It didn’t take long to figure out that Ryan was now fucking Brock, whilst previously Ryan had been doing all the work between them, not only to fuck him but fuck himself back on Brocks’ dick, Brock did not share that same sentiment and once again it was Ryan doing all the work, although he was fucking into the other man at such a pace that Brock could barely move against it even if he wanted to, and as such meant he wasn’t getting fucked like he wanted to and instead was constantly  having his prostate abused.

He wouldn’t say that he hated it, not with the way his dick was dripping precum and he felt himself get ever closer to his orgasm, but he wanted more, he wanted to be fucked into the mattress and left a moaning wreck, but clearly he didn’t have a choice as it was with a couple more thrusts from Ryan that Brock was coming inside him, biting a harsh mark onto his shoulder all the while to cover up his moan.

Whilst the whole thing was hot as hell, he wasn’t quite there yet, he needed an extra push to get to his release and it was looking more and more like a lost cause as it was with a groan from Brock that he was pulling away from him, sparing him a final kiss and a heated look at Ryan before laying down next to him, utterly sated.

“You really are a homewrecker, Ohmwrecker”

“Please, you guys were making out for like 10 minutes, I was just pushing things along” With that he saw Ryan start to move closer towards him and in a far too practiced move leaned down to hoist his legs up and over his shoulders before in the next moment he pressed the tip of his dick against his entrance “Now, do you want me to fuck you or not”

With that Ryan began nipping along his shoulder and collar bone whilst he waited for a response, but he didn’t want to indulge the other man by giving one so instead he simply rolled his hips which caused the tip of Ryans’ dick to push into him, causing a somewhat strangled groan from Ryan and a chuckle from both he and Brock.

Ryan was up to the challenge though and in one fast movement was fully seated inside of him, and now it was his turn to let out a small exhale at the feeling.

That was all the warning he got though as Ryan quickly fell into a brutal pace of fucking into him, hitting his prostate every other thrust that left him breathless but also had him racing towards his orgasm now and all he could do was hold onto the other man’s shoulders to try and ground himself at least a little.

He barely recognized the call of his name but when it finally registers he turned to see Brock next to him before he was brought into another kiss, one that was short-lived as he had to break away for air when he felt Brocks’ hand start to jerk him off to match the pace of Ryans’ thrusts.

Still he kept close to Brock, practically pleading into the air between them for more as he quickly raced towards his release, and sure enough when Brock connected their lips together again, coupled with Ryan bending down to nip and bite at his throat, they soon had him crashing into his second orgasm, letting out a long drawn-out moan into Brocks’ mouth as Ryan kept fucking into him to wring out every last moan he could from him.

It’s not long after that he felt Ryan coming inside of him, his thrusts gradually slowing down and he breaks apart from Brock briefly to bring Ryan into a kiss with him before the other man finally pulled out and collapsed on the other side of him.

He can already feel the twinge in his lower back telling him he’d be out of commission tomorrow, not that he cared, he’d been planning to spend the day with his boyfriends anyway, may as well spend it in bed.

“Why the fock did I let you fock me again Ry, I ain’t gonna be able to walk tomorrow cause of ye”

The answering snort he got from Ryan told him what the other man thought of his plight “Shouldn’t have been gone for so long then, not our fault we missed you”

“I’m gonna have to side with Ryan on this one, don’t go for so long next time”

“Wow, never t’ought I’d see the day you two would team up against me” Whilst there were times where he was frequently popping in and out of their house, only able to stay for a day or two between his duties, he’d never been outright gone for a week, and whilst that time away been torturous for him, he thought at least Brock and Ryan would have had it somewhat easier given they had each other, but that was clearly not the case “I promise I won’t go for so long again, and if I have to I’ll be draggin’ ye both with me”

It’s then, in the comfortable silence between the three of them, him being surrounded by the two people he loved most that he starts to feel sleep tug at him as the events of the day catch up to him, however, just as he’s in that nice cozy and relaxed state he felt the bed move and suddenly the distinct sound of people making out, not even bothering to open his eyes as he calls the two of them out.

“You two seriously still goin’ at it?” He can hear Brock grunt his displeasure at his comment as he parts from Ryan, and the fact brings a small smile to his lips.

“It’s been a long week without you you know, we have needs” The other man didn’t even bother waiting for a response as he heard the two of them making out again, either that or Ryan was simply too impatient and dragged the man back into a kiss.

“Well don’t go too far, gimme twenty an’ I’ll be right wit’ you” He fully expected the two of them to keep doing whatever it is they were doing with each, so he’s silently grateful when he felt the two of them cuddle up to either side of him, letting out a pleased hum as he wrapped an arm around both of them and pulled them closer against him.

Once again he found himself on the edge of sleep, that is until he felt a stray hand on his chest go from rubbing soothing patterns to pinching at one of his nipples, too tired to do much else he simply grunted in an effort to try and get them to stop and let him rest, but the action results in a tongue begin to lick at his other nipple with the occasional graze of teeth that always seemed to send a shot of pleasure down his spine.

He can’t tell who is who, all he knows is that they must have some sort of competition with each other as their mouths gradually move to nip at his neck and jaw and their hands wander further south, their ministrations meaning that any chance he had of getting sleep was completely gone, leaving him little choice but to give up and join them.

“You two are fockin’ nightmares, I hope you know that” He heard matching hums from both of them, the action causing him to smile a little before with a sigh he moved one of his hands to pull one of them up, sure that it’s Ryan from the stubble, so that he can gently press their lips together, intent on savoring every last moment with the two of them.

#ns/fw #sm/ut #terrormoohm #hope ye enjoy #let me know how my first fic back is

[danvssomethingorother]

My Top Picks for VB fics

I didn’t want to put the fics in any order, they are all good and just as a warning, I mainly read Brusty fics but these are my personal favorites from the VB fandom. most VB fics are good though and I still have some not Brusty ones on my to read list later, so I will likely update again lol. Please feel free to reblog this and add more fics!

Hubris Makes the Heart Grow Strong -  

Ship: Brusty eventually

Status: Ongoing. 

Author: @the-monarch-is-a-venture here

Summary: An AU in which Rusty takes Brock's DNA while they're in college and ends up mixing it with his own later to create Hank and Dean.This will be Brock x Rusty further in to the story, but it's definitely gonna be a slow build, multi-chapter type thing.

My notes: I think this was one of the first VB fics I read way back in July after I finally got around to finishing up the series after years of never being able to keep up with it properly even though I have always liked the show and man this really helped me stick around and keep an eye on the fandom even when it was dead.

I just really like the premise of this fic, its a really creative and interesting origin story of where the twins came from and its just really soft. Its like a perfect fic to read when like you have had a long day and just need to relax with a cute fic. 

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What’s Past Is A Prologue

Ships: Brusty

Status: Complete

Author: mirawonderfulstar

Summary: “How is the doc, anyway? Have you heard from him recently?”“Alas, no.” Orpheus said solemnly. “The last I saw of him was shortly after you and the boys left the compound. I went by to see if perhaps he needed some cheering up, poor fellow, all alone in that huge empty place, and he threw me out.” Orpheus’s tone grew colder. “I daresay that Killinger fellow brainwashed him, yes? Turned him away from the things and people he loved. I cannot think of any other reason he’d allow you and the children to be parted from him, he always seemed so devoted to you all.”Brock felt something cold slide down into his stomach, and he took a quick spoonful of his soup which did nothing to counter the effect. “You think?” He grunted after a moment.An AU following the divergence that Rusty took Killinger's offer at the end of The Doctor Is Sin.

My Notes: Rusty becomes a villain AUs are my jam. The Doctor Is Sin is definitely one of my favorite episodes!

I love how it keeps it a mystery what Rusty is up by keeping everything in Brock’s perspective and showing his slow transformation into a real villain and I don’t want to give it away but Rusty’s plan is freaking genius. Like that is super in character and its a really heart breaking ending. Just go read it, you won’t regret it.

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How you Feeling?

Ships: Brusty

Status: Complete

Author: NewAgeVintage 

Summary: Taking place in a vague place in season 6/7.Rusty loses his secret stash of ‘emergency’ pills when he loses the compound. Thankfully money can buy dubiously prescribed medication. After a frustrating night in the lab he breaks into his stash and Brock needs to step in. 

My Notes: I have been trying to just like keep it to like one story per author I like and since most of the fandom is like the same few people making tons of really good work, it sometimes got tricky. 

Like I have really loved every single story this author has made but I settled on this one eventually because I just really love the idea that Brock is just used to Rusty’s bad habits and just knows how to handle the situation easily. Like he just knows him too well and I am just rambling without giving away the entire story but I just like the dynamic between Rusty and Brock and how its presented. Also read their other VB fics cause I love them lots too.  

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Red and Blue

Ship: None, gen.

Status: Complete

Author: @paigek9

Summary: From a young age, Rusty knew that Malcom was treated differently.When they were four, their dad started color-coding all of their toys, mostly to keep Uncle Rodney from losing his mind because of the daily screaming matches and fights between the brothers. All of Rusty’s toys were red; his favorite color. Malcom’s were blue, even though he liked yellow. Red was a dominant color, according to his father. The mark of a strong leader (Definitely not because fans had the habit of sending Rusty red gifts to match his hair). Blue marked the color of his company, or at least that’s what he would say around Malcom. To Rusty, it meant Player 2, Option B, a backup plan. Malcom was born to play second fiddle to Rusty, and that’s how it was supposed to be…According to Jonas.

My Notes: Yes, I know she just wrote this for me for my silly AU but I just really love this fic ok? My friend is so talented and I love her. Look what she made.

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Private Growth in the Face of... Stuff

Ship: Brusty

Status: Complete

Author: @deliriumbubbles

Summary: After the party at Hatred’s and debriefing the boys, Brock and Rusty fight over what went down at the party. Or at least, what Rusty knows about. They send the boys to bed, and Brock sets to work relieving some tension. 

My Notes: When I make lists like this I usually try to not give like smut recs but like this is just a really freaking good smut fic. Its not just smut, its a complex feels piece that just happens to have smut. Its just a really good fic guys, just read it.

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Into Safety? (Wear Some Kneepads)

Ship: Brusty

Status: Complete

Author: newyorktopaloalto

Summary:  Brock coming back— free of pay and of his own volition— meant nothing more than he still loved the boys he had helped Rusty raise for almost twenty years. This was not a romcom (no matter the clichéd archetypes that set the stage for his life) and if it were, it would not be one starring him— it would be starring Meg Ryan because he had already thought about it for way longer than he would admit out loud. So he was living here, taking care of the boys, giving Rusty a long-suffering and amusingly indulgent look, existing (drinking coffee, making dinner, cracking terrible jokes and skulls) as though he had never left...And so, yeah, whatever, Brock coming back might have something (infinitesimal, really, but bordering on nigh) to do with him. It still didn't make his life a romcom.

My Notes: Did you really expect me not to rec the one and only successful Rusty fic on A03? Cause I have so many feels for this fic. It just takes the basic concept of a successful Rusty and it builds its own little world off it all the while very much keeping it in the Venture Bros universe. Its so good, it makes me cry. Please read it. 

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Where are My Pills, Where is My Former Lover?

Ship: Brusty

Status: Ongoing

Author: hell0lust

Summary: He’d promised Brock, all those years ago, that he was through with the pills, for good. Who cares what Brock thinks? He’s not your... whatever he was, anymore. Brock doesn’t get to decide what you do or don’t do.Rusty Venture has never known a life outside of failure. With the sudden weight of keeping his late brother's company afloat on his shoulders, Rusty finds himself falling into old habits of prescription drug abuse, as a means to cope.

My Notes: Out of the genre of ‘Rusty picks up his old addictions again in New York’ fics (that are really all good) this one is my favorite. It sadly hasn’t been updated in awhile but I hold hope the author will come back eventually. I just love how everything is played off in this fic, the slow build to Rusty and Brock getting back together and Rusty’s addictions and his jealousy of Warriana, its all just good. Go read it, you won’t regret it.

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let me in the wall you've built around

Ship: Brusty

Status: Complete 

Author: @ladyofdecember

Summary: Rusty has a hard time coming to grips with events after "The Unicorn In Captivity". His family is worried. Brock and Rusty struggle with communication. 

My Notes: This was another case of damn, which fic of the authors should I choose for this? There are a ton of amazing stories she has written! I think I finally settled on this one because it gave a really beautiful conclusion to one of the darker episodes from this season and it brings me joy. The angst building up to a warm fluffy ending is really beautiful.

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Surrogate Fatherhood

Ship: None, Gen.

Status: Complete

Author: @tsv

Summary: "He tries to ignore the shortcomings in Doc's parenting, at first. In the beginning, he'd taken it as the understandable failings of a first-time father — an emotionally callous comment here, a forgotten promise there. But soon enough, they begin to pile up, piecing together like a quilt of subtle emotional neglect.And it's not his job. At all. It's not even remotely his job. Still, when Dean comes out of his room crying about a nightmare and Doc tells him he's busy without even looking up, it itches at him. Despite the distance he'd tried to maintain, Brock genuinely feels bad."A piece reflecting on Brock and his relationship with the boys over the years.

My Notes: It was really hard for me to choose one from this author. I think I am in love with all of their work. Every piece is a freaking masterpiece and well done and everything I wanted from this fandom. But I chose this one cause fluffy Brock and the boys stuff is pretty rare and this one always, always manages to hit me in the feels.

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That’s it for now, my favorite fics. If you want to add more, please do! Like everyone in this fandom is super talented!

#venture bros #the venture bros #brusty #rusty venture #brock samson #fanfic recs #fic recs

[unethemuh]

Smut Recs For Emmy c:

okay so this is part 1 of the many fucking fics I have and it’s 1am right now so I’m obviously going to have to make a part 2 soon bc it’s also very long not really it’s 21 fics sigh but nonetheless, enjoy haha also now I seem like a kinky Ryden fucker but I’m not, I swear, only a favour to a friend

When I Was A Bird : this is my ultimate favorite one honestly, it’s so well written and sooooooooooo undeniably hot lmao. V kinky, includes, handcuffs and asphyxiation. also kinda (very) long, split into 4 (?) parts.

And The Clock Strikes Twelve : “set on new years 2007, in new york city. mirror sex, sneaking behind girlfriends backs”

Scared : “Ryan/Brendon; facial”

Cold Light of Morning : uhh basically v fluff ryden but there is guaranteed smut somewhere because it is 4k words.

Sex on Fire : “Brendon's a tease and Ryan wants it bad”

Keep Quiet, Kitten : “Ryan has the best lay of his life”

The One Where Ryan Ross Gets Gangbanged : (pretty self explanatory buuuut) “All Ryan wants on his birthday is to get fucked. A lot.”

Property Of Ryan Ross : “You know that video where Bden says he would like to do ‘nasty, nasty things’ to the audience and Ryro is not happy? Well... ‘This - is mine,’ Ryan punctuated the word with one last twist, making Brendon writhe against the headboard again, arching his neck. ‘My property, and I’ll do what I want with it. Understand?’” 

Bunny : “Brendon Urie and Ryan Ross had been dating for exactly one month before they decided to have sex. They had also been dating for exactly two months when Brendon fell upon something important about Ryan.”

The One Where Ryan Ross Gets Laid on His Birthday : “Ryan thinks everyone’s forgotten his birthday.”

Broken Glass and Rusty Nails : “When Ryan gets the tattoo, he bears it casually, sprawled out in the chair and smiling at Brendon's chatter as the needle traces over his skin.”

Present Progessive : “Ryan stops writing in online journals because he gets a real one.”

Cock Slut : “Ryan doesn't exactly like that he's going down on him because they're backstage and, God, anyone could catch them. At the same time, though, he’s waited so long for this and he starts to wonder if maybe that makes him a slut. “

Interruptions (sequel to Cock Slut) : ”Brendon can't stop thinking about what happened a few nights earlier, and if Ryan is a cock slut, Brendon is most definitely an ass slut.”

Come Undone : “Maybe the scarves aren't so ridiculous after all.”

Roll Off Your Tongue : this one didn’t have much of a description but Ryan tops soooo enjoy.

Attention to Detail : “Brendon paid attention to what would make Ryan chuckle, low and breathless, and what would make him shudder and bite his lip.”

Meant It When I Said “The Pleasure Is Mine” : again didn’t have a desc. but it’s Brendon/Ryan rimming.

Like Light Ends, With A Z : “Mexico, present day. Vaguely falls within the criteria of sexpollen, but a bit different.”

Oistros : “It’s like going into heat, like with cats, with the added bonus of becoming completely fixated on one specific person. Spencer isn’t sure whether cats do that or not, but if they do, it’s much less freaky than when Ryan does it.”

Reckless : “based on the dvd” basically sorta kinda definitely backstage fucking 

#ryden #smut #masterpost

[ecotone99]

[RF] Lovebug

LOVEBUG by Brandon Haffner

I’d been huffing model airplane glue for two years before I met Beef Gilbert, but he was the first person to make me feel stupid for it. The few friends I had couldn’t be counted on to look out for me; they could hardly look out for themselves. Those poor teachers at Woodland Acres Middle had bigger messes to clean up. And Mama—she was clueless. Too busy watching Golden Girls or The Price is Right or The Twilight Zone—didn’t matter what it was as long as it buzzed bright on that box of hers—and I couldn’t blame her, because Pops died in a freak accident when I was six, so she was all alone with me. This was another thing drew me and Beef together. His pops was dead, too.

By all accounts, Beef Gilbert was a maniac. He showed up at our school in August of 1987 and soon became known as “the kid who cut that cow open.” Like, if you were to see him for the first time, from afar, you might nudge the person next to you and ask: “Hey—is that the kid who cut that cow open?” Hence the name: Beef.

Around school he roamed the halls alone. Ate lunch by himself at one of those corner tables by the stage where the lighting wasn’t very good. He liked to remind people, loudly and half-grinning, that his mom worked at Wal-Mart and that he lived in a trailer park south of Jacinto City. Word spread that you could get him to do almost anything if you paid him enough.

I was on my second detention when I met him. Early September, the last breaths of stinky, sweltering Texas summer pouring in through broken window seals and cracked concrete. The air conditioning couldn’t keep up. During every lesson—x and y and z axes, power paragraphs, Ulysses S. Grant—we were melting.

I was fourteen and the only girl in detention that day. He was fifteen—he’d been held back a year at his old Houston school—tall for his age, slick blond hair, sweaty, and fat. His breath was a gargling wheeze. His too-big Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles t-shirt sagged off him. His square, thick-rimmed glasses were the kind you’d find on a ninety-year-old man.

He sat surrounded by empty seats. The other kids huddled in the corners to sleep or draw or read comics. Beef was flipping through a porno mag. No effort to disguise the naked woman on the cover. I glanced at our detention monitor, Mr. Briggs, who was young and nervous, and my guess was, being a fresh fish, he didn’t want to bother with this notorious big boy.

If you asked me back then why I, a somewhat self-respecting girl standing on a fragile reputation built from hard-edged coolness and occasional witty jabs, sat next to Beef Gilbert that day, I would have shrugged and said I was bored out of my skull. Which wouldn’t have been a lie—I thought, as eighth graders do, I’d seen the whole world.

“Heard you cut up a cow or something, over the summer,” I said. “Why’d you do it?”

He put down his porno mag and glared at me. He wore dirty gray sweatpants and I saw under the desk he had a little hard-on.

“Me and that cow had a political disagreement,” he said.

I laughed. Then he laughed.

“Poor cow,” I said, joking now. “Was it still alive when you did it?”

“Check this out,” he said. He flipped the magazine around so I could see. On the page was a naked Asian woman on her hands and knees.

“I see the appeal,” I said.

“I doubt it,” he said. “They even got smut where you’re from?”

“Where I’m from? I live four blocks from City Hall,” I said. “I’m not some rich girl.” I thought about my bedroom the size of a janitor’s closet. Mama’s rusty Cavalier I could hear coming three blocks away. Frozen corn dogs, frozen fish sticks, canned noodle soup—our dinner rotation. Bedroom air conditioner that rattled and hummed all night.

But secretly I was flattered. All any fourteen-year-old girl stuck wearing off-brand clothes and cheap hand-me-down jewelry can hope for is that her sweet style and perfect makeup fool someone into thinking she doesn’t live in a run-down duplex.

Flatly, quickly, as if he’d said it before, he said: “Yeah, you’re not rich, and I’m not a lard-ass.”

I don’t know what it was like at other schools, but at Woodland Acres, teachers used detention on kids the same way I use duct tape to fix broken stuff around my apartment. Skipped a class? Detention. Late to school? Detention. Broke into a locker, tore down a poster, stole a kid’s pack of gum? Detention. Made fun of or disagreed with a teacher? Hit a girl, kissed a boy, spit a spitball, made a paper airplane out of a math test? Brought booze or weed or the wrong kind of glue to school? Didn’t stand up during the Pledge of Allegiance? Detention. Hell, if your parents called enough times to whine about your grades, you could go to detention for getting a D. Which meant some kids, God bless them, got detention just for being dumb.

With Beef and all his strangeness waiting for me, detention became something I looked forward to. Like the bell ringing at 3:15 every day, I could count on him being in that room when I got there. Same porno mag, same circle of empty chairs around him, the other kids keeping clear of his body odor.

“What’re you in for?” we started to ask each other, like new cellmates.

And he’d tell me the story, usually something like, “I threw my apple core at Miss Gracie. Ryan Bishop gave me fifty cents to do it.”

And when he asked what I was in for, I’d say, “Same as always.”

And he’d shake his head and say, “Stuff’ll fry your brain,” followed by, “Check out these titties.”

And I’d say, “You know I see titties every day. In the mirror.”

And he’d peer down at my chest, and when Mr. Briggs wasn’t looking I’d pull my shirt up to my collarbone, just for half a second, to show off how good they looked in my pink bra.

This, more or less, became our routine.

One afternoon in detention, I wrote Beef a note. Mr. Briggs had silenced our conversation with an urgent, pleading glance, and in the silence I stared at my notebook. Usually I would have drawn some crazy thing—a dragon with broken wings, an upside-down truck on fire—but that afternoon I was feeling chatty.

I wrote down some jokes about Mr. Briggs. Scratched some doodles of Mr. Briggs with various classroom objects up his asshole. I added, as a P.S., a suggestion that if Beef were to wear some clothes that fit him, clothes that maybe had been washed recently, he might look better. Not good, not handsome. Just better.

I passed it to him, and he gave me this look: anxious, embarrassed, confused. He seemed more shocked by this piece of paper than by my bra flashes. As he stuffed my neatly folded note into his sweatpants pocket, he coughed and asked, “You going to Ghoulish?”

The Ghoulish Gathering was the Woodland Acres Halloween Dance, the kind of mid-year, low-budget, cafeteria event that attracted only the school’s most desperate and dorky.

“No way in hell,” I said.

“Me neither,” he said.

I continued to write Beef little notes and to receive little notes from him. When he started calling me Lovebug—never in person, only on paper—I returned the affection.

“Dear Lovebug,” we’d start off.

His drawings were faceless stick figures with enormous penises, or terribly drawn motorcycles, or symbols of sports teams. Sometimes he’d draw abstractions, lines and curves and dark spots that had me searching for some deeper meaning. His letters were short and disjointed.

Dear Lovebug, one of them read. I ate like no food this week and am still fat. The universe is unfair. Please stop sniffing glue. It’s gross. One of these days you got to tell me how your dad died.

That was it. No sign off.

About a year before I met Beef, my best friend Mia—who was the type of girl who said “fuck” for no reason and dyed her hair a wacky new color each month and wore rings on all her fingers—walked me over to the gas station one afternoon to buy me my first tube. It felt weird in my hand, hard like a rock, only I could push the sides in a little. Testors brand. “Works the fastest,” Mia said. That same summer she showed me how to stuff tissues into my bra in a way that didn’t look lumpy and I showed her how to cut little slits into the front of her jeans to show off some thigh. “You bad little tease,” I said when she put the jeans back on.

At school I huffed straight from the tube. But at home I used the bag. To get the best high, you squeeze half an inch into the bottom. Place the bag over your mouth and nose. Inhale, exhale. Repeat, repeat, repeat, each breath deeper than the last, and soon you’re riding an escalator up a grassy, flowery hill, above the clouds, and if you’re lucky, it’ll be sunny up there, and if you’re luckier still, you’ll meet Jesus Christ. Boredom was never so beautiful.

Beautiful for about twenty good minutes anyway, and then I’d start finding myself in the bathroom wiping blood from my nose with toilet paper. I started buying tissues at the gas station every time I reloaded my supply.

I started looking for Beef in the halls between classes. One time, I stopped by his locker and asked him about the pictures taped to his door. Mostly cutouts of women in bikinis. A few photos of his Rottweiler.

“His name’s Ass Wipe,” Beef told me.

“Fitting,” I said. “He looks like shit.”

“And this one’s my dead dad.” He pointed to a young-looking, physically fit bald man wearing a collared shirt, clean white dress pants, and shiny dress shoes. He was sitting in a rocking chair, smiling at the camera.

“How’d he die?” I asked.

“Overdose,” Beef said, laughing and wheezing, then coughing. He looked at the photo and pressed his index finger against his dad’s head. “Yeah. He was a dumb bastard.”

And another time by his locker we were playing rock-paper-scissors to see who’d get the last piece of gum in the pack we’d pooled money to buy from Patrick Hutchins last detention. Beef threw paper and I threw rock, so he covered my little fist with his big hand, then said, “I don’t want it,” and handed me the last piece.

“Thanks Beef,” I said, popping the blue stick in my mouth. “What’s your real name anyway?” I asked.

“Dennis,” he said. I’d expected a war to draw it out of him, but he didn’t hesitate. “Dad used to call me Denny.”

“Denny? Like that breakfast place?”

“I told you he was a dumb bastard.”

I was only trying to play along when I said, “Well at least someone’s continuing his legacy.” I even elbowed him in the shoulder and winked big and hard to exaggerate the sarcasm, but I knew as soon as I said it I’d cut some place in him that was dark and bruised.

“Whatever. At least I don’t wear kiddie clothes and a gazillion layers of makeup,” he said, punching his locker shut. “You look like one of those creepy five-year-old pageant girls.”

Normally his lines about my dress weren’t so vicious. More like failed attempts at flattery. This particular year I wore a lot of pink. Pink fingernails, pink T-shirts, pink bobby pins, pink shorts. I even owned a pink watch. I didn’t wear all this at once, of course. Tasteful pink. “Your highlighter shorts are blinding me,” he’d say, or “My little cousin has a Barbie in that same outfit.” He’d gurgle and wheeze and laugh at his own joke and I’d roll my eyes.

But when he crossed the line—“I bet you got a whole dresser full of pretty pink panties,” for instance—I’d make a point, in front of whoever was watching, to demean him.

I’d say, loudly enough for a few bystanders to hear, “Give you two bucks to fall down these stairs,” or “Give you a buck fifty to slap Mr. Briggs on the ass,” or “How about you full-on sprint to each of your classes today, Beef? A quarter per class.”

Sometimes Mia was with us. She would help me find loose change to give him.

“He’s hilarious,” she’d say. “He’s something else.”

He’d do whatever I asked. Every time. Didn’t matter how many people were around to laugh at him, or how much detention it landed him, or how bad his coughing got afterward. He took the money up front. Usually he smiled about it, his dorky sad smile beneath those gigantic glasses. The kid was a walking cartoon character and he knew it. A clown. Almost everyone seemed amused by his act.

Sure, I stood and watched with the rest as he performed. But if anyone had glanced in my direction, they’d have seen how I felt. More than once I caught myself pressing my hands together and shifting my weight from foot to foot, hoping to God the poor idiot didn’t hurt himself.

Now that I think back, it wasn’t nervousness or even guilt. It was much more. It was that sick, stabbing pain in my gut, almost how you feel when your lover betrays you. Disgust. Disbelief. It was that he’d truly do anything. It was that, after a long day of shit grades and nasty looks from teachers and throbbing glue headaches, sometimes all I wanted was detention, his big dorky eyes looking at me and his sweaty notes making me laugh. It was fear that this poor fat boy loved me. It was fear that I could love him.

Tuesday after Labor Day I sat on one of those concrete benches overlooking the school’s brown front lawn, waiting for Mama to pick me up. She was late as always.

I pulled out my notepad and drew gargoyles and princesses. When detention got out, Beef walked through the glass doors and sat next to me.

“You got any pot?” I asked. “I been thinking about trying pot.”

“You know I don’t do any of that shit,” he said. He shook his head for emphasis.

“Just fooling with you,” I said. “Grump.”

We sat. An airplane ripped the sky open. Someone far away pumped some life into a lawnmower.

“When I first heard about you I thought you’d be some tough guy,” I said. “Some brute. A name like Beef. Beef who killed a cow. But I bet you’ve never even seen a cow in your life.”

No response.

“Sorry I missed you today,” I said. “What were you in for this time?”

“Wasn’t my fault. Just some assholes being assholes,” he said. “Like always.”

“You gonna beat them up?”

“Shut up, Emma.”

“I bet you never hurt anything ever.”

“How much?” he asked.

I looked at him.

“How much you want to bet I’ve never hurt a thing? For real,” he said. He was wheezing again.

“You should see a doctor about that chest problem you got,” I said. “Because that shit ain’t normal.”

“How much?” he asked.

“A buck,” I said. “Show me what you got.”

We went behind the school and into the woods, down a long hill on a foot-worn pathway, over a wooden bridge, and across a creek littered with beer cans and cigarette butts and candy wrappers. I’d never been back here before. After twenty minutes, the woods opened up into a green-yellow pasture, a few sun rays spotlighting the place, including, in the distance, an old blue farm house and its grey barn, and, just beyond the barn, the highway coming into the city.

Beef grabbed hold of the low wooden fence in front of us. Just a few feet away, like a joke, was a “No Trespassing” sign, accompanied by a bigger, handwritten sign that read, “I Will Shoot You.”

“Seems taller than it was before,” Beef said, running his hand along the fence. He lifted a heavy pale leg over the wood, made a grunting noise, and landed clumsily on the other side.

Then I climbed over. He watched me.

“Even I’ve got more grace than you,” he said.

I punched his arm. He pretended it hurt.

I followed him away from the house and down near an algae-covered pond. Mosquitoes swarmed.

“Here it is,” he said, pointing down at our feet.

It was so much a part of the earth it was hardly noticeable. But yes, indeed, there was a dead cow, or a pile of dried-up cow parts I should say, in fact not recognizable as a cow at all, except that I knew what I was looking for. There were no flies because the flesh was gone. Just a few bones, dead grass, and a big dark-colored spot on the ground.

“Tell me the truth, Beef,” I said. “You did this?”

“Fuck yeah, I did,” he said. “I’m a murderous cow-killing machine.”

“A true psychopath,” I said.

“A raging psychopath,” he corrected.

“Twenty bucks says you found this cow dead of natural causes.”

He kicked the small pile of fragile bones. Dirt and bone fragments everywhere. The mosquitoes were giving us both hell, and he swatted at them crazily, like each bite was a surprise.

“I like this dance you’re rocking,” I said.

Then he grabbed my wrist hard and he pulled me away from the bones. He led me back to the fence. My wrist started to hurt and my fingers were going numb, so I yanked my arm away.

“What’s your problem?” I asked.

“You don’t have to insult me every second, you know,” he said.

We walked through the woods without talking. The crunching leaves. His labored breathing.

When we got back, Mama’s brown station wagon was waiting for me.

“Want Mama to give you a ride home?” I asked him.

But he ignored me. He sat on the bench, took his glasses off, and set his chin in his hands as we drove away and left him there to wait for whoever.

I spent a lot of time in my room that year. I listened to Blondie and The Clash. I drew two-headed unicorns and tornadoes uprooting neighborhoods and man-eating plants. I threw darts at an old dartboard I’d found in a Pizza Hut trash bin when Mia and me were wandering around town one night looking for stuff to do.

And I talked to Beef on the phone. He was sometimes funny, sometimes stupid, sometimes sweet. But always surprising.

I’d ask, “What are you doing right now?”

And he’d say, “Taking a dump,” or “Training for the Olympics,” or “Waiting for you to come over one of these days so I don’t have to play checkers by myself anymore.”

And I’d make suggestions for the future, like the time I said, “Once you get your license we should go to the Cinemark. You like horror movies?”

“Nah,” he said. “My life’s a horror movie.”

I laughed. One morning later that week, though, I got the sense of what he meant. I found a note in my locker he must have slipped through the little vent:

Dear Lovebug,

Chase who is my asshole step-brother and me and my cousins went to that pond last summer and they gave me a knife and said stab that cow. They didn’t pay me so I said no way. But they got this syringe and stuck me with it. They pushed me down so I wouldn’t get away. They are doing all sorts of drugs all the time with my stepdad so I might have gotten some drugs in me. They said stab that cow or we’ll keep on sticking you. I didn’t do it on purpose.

It could have been my imagination, but that note changed us. I mean, we never spoke about it. I made sure of that. In fact I made sure the word “cow” didn’t even come up in conversation. But this secret, twisted story had an effect. We joked less. Maybe we were nicer to each other. At least until those miserable weeks after Ghoulish.

One late night on the phone, after Mama’d gone to bed, I told Beef how Pops died in a factory fire, and that I hardly had any memory of him, just a flash here or there from some tiny corner of my brain, his image fading more each year.

Beef asked, “Was your dad nice to your mom?”

I was on my knees on my bedroom floor and prepping a huffing bag. I brought the bag to my face and breathed in, breathed out, in, out, in, out.

“Are you doing what I think you’re doing?”

“I don’t remember.”

“Don’t remember what you’re doing?”

“If Pops was nice to Mama. Too young I guess.”

Sometimes our conversations went so deep into the night we’d start to nod off, phones pressed to our ears. One of those nights, I was in bed with my eyes closed and the lights off. A long stretch of silence went by. Beef was breathing slowly, loudly.

“You awake?” I asked.

“No,” he said.

“Me neither.” I said.

The rumbling air conditioner switched off. The crickets in the yard hissed and pulsed. A streetlamp buzzed.

“Why don’t you like your mom?” he asked. “I want to meet her. Decide for myself.”

“She’s lazy. Sits around the house all day. Gets her welfare check and goes straight to happy hour. And she hates me,” I said. “She hates everything. She’ll hate you too.”

“Well your taste in music is pretty terrible. And your drawings. If I were your mom I’d be disturbed by those drawings.”

“I don’t even think she knows I draw.”

“I’d send you to an institution.”

“Wouldn’t surprise me if she did. Get me out of the house.”

“You should show her. Draw something not so gross. I’m being serious. You know, guilt her into putting it on the fridge and shit.”

“It’s a little late for the fridge. I’m not six years old.”

My ear was getting hot, so I switched the phone to the other side.

“She a druggie?” he asked.

I almost laughed. “Mama’s not cool enough to do drugs.”

A long silence.

“Did your pops?”

“Did Pops what?”

“Do drugs,” he said. “You know. Crack. Pills. Meth. Weed. Glue.”

“He drank a little,” I said. “I don’t know.”

I tried to picture Pops. Maybe it wasn’t my memory—maybe it was Mama’s complaining for years after he died that created the picture—but with my eyes closed, my brain all afloat on glue air, I could see Pops with a glass of brown liquor on ice, sitting on the orange couch in the living room, watching MAS*H. That couch was the one our old cat, Juniper, used to piss on, the one Mama and me took sledgehammers to a few years ago. Juniper—I’d almost forgotten about him. Raggedy gray hairball, always hissing at everybody but Mama. If you wanted to find him, you’d just look under that couch—two narrow yellow eyes and a low growl would be there to greet you. Mama loved that cat. Saw herself in him a little bit, I think. Not long after we tossed out the couch pieces, I came home from school to find Mama crying on the floor holding a limp, lifeless Juniper. I can’t say I was too upset about that cat’s passing, but for Mama it was almost like Pops had died all over again.

“Emma?” Beef said. I realized he’d said it several times. I was almost asleep.

“Oh,” I said.

“Goodnight.”

Two weeks before Ghoulish, a tall boy from my lunch table asked me to go with him and I said yes. In detention one afternoon I shamelessly told Beef all about him, hoping, I think, to see the hurt on his face. The boy’s name was Alfredo, he was from San Antonio, and he said corny shit like, “You’ve got a great Emma-gination,” his eyes were starry green, and his hands were that perfect blend of soft but firm on my hip in the lingering moment after a goodbye hug in the hall when he didn’t want to let go just yet.

“Sounds like an asshole,” was all Beef could muster.

But a week later Alfredo either forgot about me or changed his mind because he asked out none other than my Mia, and when I told Beef, he said, “Your Mia? Mia Mullins?” and I said, “That’s the one,” and Beef said, “What’s he thinking? She’s got more acne than you and me combined.”

As we parted ways, surprised to find my hand shaking a little, I handed him a note, which went something like this:

Dear Lovebug,

Have a hot date yet for Ghoulish? If not, want to go with? Don’t get ideas.

He handed me his response in detention that afternoon:

Dear Lovebug,

Hope you break dance cause I’m a champ.

That week on the phone, all he wanted to talk about was the dance. He said things like, “I’m going to bring a bag of sugar in case they play ‘Pour Some Sugar on Me,’” and “I bet you’ve slow danced with like a hundred guys.”

“I want to cut out like halfway through,” I said. And I told him I’d pictured the two of us talking in a corner, not dancing at all, maybe heading back to my room to listen to music and draw and talk, like Mia and me used to do.

“Your mama won’t mind?”

“Have you been listening to anything I’ve ever told you? Mama doesn’t mind anything.”

“Okay, but we gotta slow dance once,” he said.

“No promises.”

“Number one hundred and one, here I come.”

But of course we didn’t get that far.

Mama left me $20 a week. Every Monday morning there was one bill on the kitchen counter. Given that Mama had no job, I always wondered where this money came from. I found out later it came out of Pop’s life insurance. The poor man was funding my glue habit from the grave.

Back in 1987 you could buy a lot with $20. Four or five movie tickets. A new shirt. A Sony Discman. A decent dinner out. A shitload of ice cream.

Or a dozen eight-ounce tubes of Testors.

But the day before Ghoulish, when it came time to resupply, I found the Walgreens completely out. So instead I picked up some paint thinner—I thought I’d heard about one of Mia’s friends using it. Came in a plastic bottle a little taller and narrower than a soda can. I walked home and ran up to my room and stuffed the bottle under my mattress.

Then I went downstairs for dinner; I remember this dinner well. For some reason Mama’d cooked lemon pepper chicken and some type of stuffed pasta with actual dinnerware, not the plastic plates I usually took up to my room. It was the most impressive meal I’d eaten in months. Before sitting down, I asked:

“What’s the special occasion?”

I got this nasty look from her and some response like:

“Does it need to be a special occasion if I want to cook some damn chicken for us?”

“What’s up your ass?”

“If you’re gonna talk like that don’t talk at all.”

“Fine with me.”

We ate the delicious meal in dead silence, save for the smacking of our lips and the clinking of our forks against our plates. When I finished, I went upstairs, locked the door, cranked “Death or Glory,” stuck my hand under my mattress, pulled out the now-warm can, shook it, heard my liquid destiny sloshing around, and took, as they say, the plunge.

Dear Lovebug,

When I wake up to get ready for school in the morning and put my clothes on, I sometimes pretend my clothes are ancient armor. Many, many girls for hundreds or thousands of years have worn this same armor and now it’s mine. It’s all rusty and it’s got some holes because you know it’s so old, but for the most part it’s good trustworthy armor. Now that I write it down this seems dumb. But even though it’s pretend and I know I’m too old to pretend, the armor has got me through lots of mornings when I just didn’t want to go to school. You know what I mean? Do you know what I’m talking about?

Anyway I’m writing this note at the hospital so I won’t be at the Ghoulish and you’re probably not going to get this note in time but I thought I should write it anyway.

Yes, I’m in the hospital for the reason you’re thinking.

I guess that’s all.

Emma

At the bottom of that note was a drawing of my own face, frowning, a tear streaming down one cheek. The finished product—eyes way too big and wide, too many half-erased sketch lines around the edges, crazy hair, pointy nose—looked nothing like me.

As any idiot could tell you, huffing paint thinner isn’t anything like huffing Testors. Less like riding an escalator up through clouds than like riding a train that’s on fire and the cabins are full of smoke and the whole thing is sailing off the tracks down into a ravine and you know it’s just a matter of time before you hit bottom and blow up into smithereens, but until then your stomach is flipping and churning and you feel weightless and terrified at the same time as the whole world rushes past you at terminal velocity or whatever.

The instant I unscrewed the cap, my face a good foot from the bottle, the fumes filled my room. The smell swept me back to those lighter-fluid-drenched junk heaps in the woods. I closed my eyes and took a few deep breaths. I stuck my nose into the opening and took a huge sniff, followed immediately by another huge sniff, figuring I could skip a step—the bottle acted like a bag by way of concentrating and trapping those wonderful toxic fumes.

Who knows why we do these things to ourselves?

Imagine using two mortars to mash up some glass and habanero peppers, then jamming those glass-and-habanero-caked mortars up your nostrils. Even after I yanked my face from the bottle, grabbed a tissue, and began blowing, and even after those bloody chunks started falling out of my nose more thickly and rapidly than the tissues could contain—my khaki shorts and pink carpet were soaked with red by the time I passed out—the inside of my nose burned so bad I was crying.

If my life was a movie, I’d have woken up in the hospital bed. Peaceful and rested, surrounded by “get well” balloons and some doctor giving me a solemn but hopeful look. No such luck for 14-year-old Emma. No, I woke up in the ambulance, where the pain in my nose was still intense and burning. No way my nose survives this, I was thinking. It’s gonna have to be surgically removed. I’m gonna be noseless forever and they’re gonna make fun of me worse than they make fun of Beef.

Added to my nose pain was this unbearable headache, as if I’d banged my head on the ambulance door as they stuffed me in. I couldn’t stop coughing. My heart raged against my chest like a deranged gorilla. I was surrounded by fast-talking, stressed out, overworked strangers.

Other things I remember: Real bumpy ride. Blurry vision. Lights hurt my eyes. Cold as a freezer. Why was the air conditioning up so high in there? Where was Mama? Wet blood slowly drying on my face. Tried to open my mouth to ask for a Tylenol or something, but nothing came out but another painful cough. And no eye contact with the strangers. Not the whole way to the hospital. What I can’t tell you is if I was avoiding their eyes or they were avoiding mine.

After they got me all fixed up with tubes and oxygen, Mama walked in the room. There was no window, and everything was beige. She sat in the chair next to my bed.

Mama folded her hands in her lap and said, “Emma.” She’d been crying. It was obvious. Puffy red cheeks, wet eyes, that permanent frown of hers. Her half-gray,-half-black hair was a mess.

She put her hand on my hand. I was too weak to move it away.

I expected Mama to get up and leave after an hour or so. But I fell asleep, and when I woke up it was morning, and she was still there, asleep in the chair, her head leaning awkwardly on the beige wall. Later on it would dawn on me that this was the longest stretch of time we’d been in the same room together since Pops was alive.

Mama went and got me breakfast from the hospital cafeteria and came back and we ate together in silence.

“Are you depressed?” Mama said when we finished. When our eyes met I realized she’d been spending most of breakfast working up the courage to ask.

“No, Mama.”

“Did some boy hurt you?”

I laughed, then coughed.

“Well then what?” she asked, impatient. “What is it? People don’t do this for no reason.”

“Sure they do,” I said.

The nurse came in, drew my blood, and left.

“She seems nice,” Mama said.

“I don’t like her,” I said, which was a lie.

Mama stayed with me for the next day and a half.

“It’s no trouble,” she kept saying, as if I’d told her she was outdoing herself. “I’ve got nowhere to go.”

They rolled in a TV and we watched whatever Mama wanted to watch. I went in and out of sleep. The doctor told me I was a “perfectly healthy young woman,” but that I wouldn’t be this way much longer if I kept “poisoning my body,” and “brain damage” and “heart damage” and “sudden death” and this and that, and he handed me a pamphlet with the words “FREEDOM FROM ADDICTION” written at the top in all caps, which I threw in the garbage outside the hospital, and which Mama fished out of the garbage and clutched in her lap with her non-steering hand during the drive home and then studied at the kitchen table through her reading glasses for like a gazillion billion hours.

I must have called Beef fifteen times that weekend. On Sunday night, his mama answered the phone. She told me Beef—she called him Dennis—was resting up and wouldn’t be at school for a bit. Then Ass Wipe started barking and she said she had to go.

Mia told me the story at lunch that Monday. Turns out Alfredo had showed up to Ghoulish drunk. Slurring his words, not walking straight. Beef was there searching the crowd for me in his I’m-sure-ridiculous-looking Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle costume. He found Mia and asked her where I was, and Alfredo, who was standing right there, asked Beef how he could be so stupid as to think I’d actually dance with him. Acted like I’d set the whole thing up as a gag. So Beef plopped down at one of the tables behind the crowd and just sat there like a lonely egg. But when Mia went to the bathroom, Alfredo tracked Beef down, acted all remorseful, told Beef I wasn’t worth getting all depressed over, that I wasn’t even that good a kisser—which is a lie—then offered Beef fifty bucks to sneak behind the cafeteria stage curtain, climb the spiral staircase to the catwalk above the stage, and jump off while hollering, “Cowabunga dude!”

So he did.

The stage exploded as if Beef were a human bomb. Broke his left leg and nearly his hip. But the worst part: this little shard of wood came up and stuck Beef right in the eye. Blood was everywhere. As Mia put it, “Everyone was running around screaming like it was the end of days.”

Monday of next week I finally saw him during my break between Spanish II and study hall. He walked toward me down the hallway on crutches, a black eye patch over his left eye. If I hadn’t heard the story first, I would have figured somebody was paying him a buck or two to act like a disabled pirate. When he came close enough to hear me, I took a risk and made a joke of it. I said, “Ahoy there!” But he didn’t respond. Didn’t even crack a tiny grin. Instead, from his right eye, he shot me this wild glare, kind of like the glare a horse—or a cow—gives you when you walk too close to the fence. Like they’re scared and pissed at the same time.

Then Beef lifted the patch to reveal a mess of purple and black flesh.

“Give me a dollar,” he said, “and I’ll let you touch it.”

I stood there like a dope.

“People been handing me money all day to put their fingers in my eye socket,” he said. He reset the patch. “Some people are so disgusting. Wouldn’t you say, Lovebug?”

I didn’t agree or disagree. I dug around in my rotten brain but the words were buried too deep. And after a few awful seconds, he limped off into the crowd.

At home that evening, in my bedroom, my paint thinner was nowhere to be found. My bed was made, too. And the next Monday morning, there was no $20 bill on the kitchen counter.

Weeks went by. I wound up in detention less and less often. The sweltering summer heat was replaced by breezy windbreaker weather. Beef and I still talked sometimes, in the halls. Not like before, but little stuff, like, “Does Mr. Briggs still pretend those ladies in your magazine aren’t naked?” and “Your mama got a new boyfriend yet?” Stuff like that. Then one day he told me he was moving to Louisiana over winter break to go live with his grandpa. Set to go to some high school in Baton Rouge. He’d already been out to visit.

“Best part is, everyone’s a lard-ass out there,” he said. “Even lard-assier than me. For real. I’m gonna be the hot jock.”

“The Hot Jock Cyclops of Baton Rouge.”

“Don’t push your luck.”

His mama’d had a heart attack or something, he said. Hence the move.

Christmas Eve. In my bedroom. Beef had been gone a week. “Train in Vain” blasting on my stereo. I was wrapping a present, believe it or not, for Mama. A pencil drawing of nothing special. A river, flowing down a canyon, and in the middle of it, this big zig-zaggy tree emerging from the water, branches reaching up toward the sky. It was pretty bad even by my standards—never was much of a nature drawer. Figured I might as well give it away. Plus once I’d finished and stepped back from it, that crazy tree kind of reminded me of her. Weather-beaten and old and strange. The type of tree all the tourists would come to see and snap pictures of while asking impossible-to-answer questions like, “How the hell did it get in the middle of the river in the first place?” and “Why hasn’t it fallen down after all these years?”

When she opened it on Christmas morning she cried so many tears it was like God had opened a bottle of champagne all over our living room. She gave me a hug—our first hug in I don’t know how long—and thanked me over and over. It was a little excessive.

After presents, we sat on the couch. She held my hand while her terrible Christmas music played in the background and we sipped the lukewarm hot chocolate she’d made. As she stared out the living room window—where there was nothing but cold, frosted lawn and a deserted street—she had this odd little smile. Her face was still wet. After a few minutes I cleared my throat, and she stood up and asked if I’d like her to reheat the rest of the hot chocolate. From her eyes I understood she wanted me to say yes.

I thought of a thousand smart responses. “Sure, nothing more delicious than chocolate water garnished with powder clumps,” or “But wouldn’t reheating mean it was once heated?” But when I practiced them in my head, none of my one-liners was the clever little needle I wanted. On this quiet Christmas morning, everything I thought to say was a jackhammer, a chainsaw, a blowtorch. So I gave it up.

Inhale, exhale. Repeat, repeat, repeat.

“Sure, Mama,” I said, handing her my empty pink mug.

Published on May 9, 2019

submitted by /u/pottsofgold [link] [comments] via Blogger https://ift.tt/2Nyg8en

#Blogger #Story

[ao3feed-heistwives]

by hope_savaria

Not long after Debbie asks Lou to marry her, Rusty comes to visit. He mentions a time where Debbie would have done anything for money. Lou asks her about it later, and Debbie explains.

Words: 5588, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Series: Part 17 of Heistwives Toybox

Fandoms: Ocean's 8 (2018)

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: F/F

Characters: Lou Miller (Ocean's), Debbie Ocean, Rusty Ryan

Relationships: Lou Miller/Debbie Ocean, Lou Miller & Debbie Ocean

Additional Tags: Post-Canon, Lou POV, Background Rusty Ryan/Danny Ocean, but Danny is dead (sorry), Stripping, Pole Dancing, (in the past), Flashbacks, How They Met, Masturbation, Vibrators, wand vibe, Video Cameras, 69 (Sex Position), Multiple Orgasms, Engaged Couple, Established Relationship, Smut, Fluff and Smut, Fluff, Talking

#debbie x lou #lou x debbie #heist wives #heist girlfriends #lou miller #debbie ocean #deblou #loubbie