#BEST COAST band | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lixiesfreckless · 2 months

Text

Into It | b. c.

➸ synopsis: the california sunset looks pretty damn good when you're on the hood of Chan's car.

➸ starring: bang chan x female reader

➸ word count: 3k

➸ general content: best friend!chan, car sex, drunk sex, chan is lowkey obsessed with you, mutual pining, dirty talk

➸ warnings: lots of swearing, sexual content, alcohol consumption, mentions of california(LMAO east coast on top)

➸ rating: 18+ MA

➸ author’s note: another oldie but goodie! also I don't even bias chan but I literally went insane writing this so what does that mean-

♫ into it- chase atlantic

Far away.

You feel like your mind is so far away.

The engine roars in your ears as you and Chan zip around the outskirts of downtown Los Angeles, convertible top down to let the wind whip through the vehicle.

Your hand dangles outside the car door, lazily twirling a half empty bottle of beer in your fingertips as you fully sink into the car seat. Your thoughts are fuzzy, his music is loud, and the breeze is enough to keep you from getting too hot.

This is as close as you can get to bliss.

Palm trees lining the road, orange and magenta in the sky, hell— if heaven didn’t look like this, did you even want to go?

The car slows down enough for Chan to make a right turn, angling the two of you to a desert close to where they host raves and concerts every summer. By the time the current song stops playing, Chan is pulling the convertible off the road, driving over hardened clay and rocks until he’s about 50 yards away from the asphalt.

“Pass me one of those,” he says, putting the car in park and slumping into the seat. You reach down to the six pack of beer near your feet and pass one to him, bringing your own bottle up to your lips as he takes it.

The guy sticks the cap between his teeth, cracking it open with a sharp twist of his arm, and flicks the cap into the cup holder.

“That’s one way to crack open a cold one,” you chuckle, taking another swig.

“Too bad I’m not with the boys…” he sighs, narrowly dodging a swat from your hand as he laughs.

“Hush, I’m better than the boys.”

The two of you fall into a comfortable silence, letting the troubles of the week dissolve under the tangy taste of the alcohol and the bass from the speakers.

You can’t remember exactly when you started spending your Friday nights like this, driving to random places in the passenger seat of Chan’s car. Usually you’d prefer to spend your nights indoors, but with him, it was never overwhelming. He was your weekly dose of adventure, and you became addicted easily.

But how could you not when he was so…Chan?

He always knew what songs to play, what you felt like talking about, what kind of view would cheer you up— he became someone that knew you better than your best friend, even.

And there was something so disarming about his vintage band tees, beat up converse, blond curls and dimples— especially his dimples. They were a weapon and he used them.

And they reappear right as you notice you’re staring at him. Serves you right for zoning out in his general direction.

“Something on your mind?” He chuckles, and you pop the passenger door open, shaking your head.

“Nope. Just need to stretch.”

You walk around to the front of the car, and the shell dips slightly once you perch on the hood.

This beer is defective, you decide. Alcohol is supposed to blur your thoughts, not sharpen them.

And yet all you can think about is the man moving to lean against the front of the car, standing just a foot away from you.

Your mind pretends not to notice the way Chan’s gaze lingers on your lips, almost glazing over every time you take a swig from the bottle in your hand. Your body however, burns. Reacts like water on hot oil. It feels like every cell is dancing in the remnants of the sunset when he looks at you.

It might just be the alcohol though.

You lean back and lie on the hood of the car, using your hands as a makeshift pillow behind your head as you watch the sky turn an even deeper shade of pink. Chan takes one glance at you and takes a long sip of beer as he quickly looks away, pushing the sight of your shirt riding up your torso far back into his mind. The…things he could do there-

“Shit, how many of those have we gone through,” you mumble, lazily shifting your eyes up to the sky.

“Uh, four?” Chan glances back at you, mentally cursing at the way your face matches the sky above, dusted with pink. He doesn’t know it’s from you staring at his arm veins. “We have water in the back if you want some-”

“No, no I’m good.” Your voice sounds like honey to him; maybe he should pass the bottle back to you, just so you’ll stay quiet. “Just feeling more than a little buzzed.”

“Oh yeah?” He chuckles, and the huskiness in his voice practically pokes you in the side. “Now would be the best time to do something crazy then.”

“Something crazy?” You laugh out loud, then sit up slightly on the hood, leaning back on your elbows. “There’s nothing but desert for miles. What are we supposed to do-”

Your sentence stops dead in its tracks as your eyes meet with Chan’s, the heat rushing to your gut all at once as the wind blows his blond curls into his eyes. He doesn’t even hesitate this time; his eyes wander lower and lower on your face until they land on your bottom lip, trapped between your teeth.

“God, why do you always do that…” he whispers, shifting his gaze back to the road.

…What?

The wind whistles in your ears as you feel them growing hotter, unsure what to make of his sudden statement.

“Do…do what?” He looks back at you with tortured eyes, as if you’re the only water in the California desert.

“Bite your lip like that; it makes me think-” he stops and drains the rest of the bottle in his hand, then leaves it on the hood and shakes his head. “Never mind. I’m gonna turn the music up.”

Your eyes follow him as he trails along the side of the car, and you feel a certain window of opportunity beginning to close. Summoning most of your courage, you jump off the hood and walk up behind Chan, waiting for him to finish messing with the stereo before tapping him on the back.

“Yeah?” He turns around and barely has any time to think before you’re pressing on his shoulders, pulling him down slightly as you crash your lips onto his. He immediately catches your waist, letting out a surprised muffle that dissolves into a sigh as he pulls you against him.

You break apart after a moment, lips still tingly and buzzing with excitement, but you wonder if you’ve made the right decision as you look up at Chan, who still has his eyes closed.

“You’re drunk,” he whispers, finally looking down at you with a flushed face.

“Not drunk enough.” You twist the shoulder seams of his shirt between your fingers in consideration. “I’m sober enough to know that look. And if you don’t do something about it, then I-”

“You want me to do something about it?” He pulls your hips tight against his, and now that you’re leaning on him, you can feel the bass from the car reverberating through both of you. That combined with the buzz of the alcohol and his hands on your bare midriff nearly sends you over the edge, but you keep your composure.

And by that you mean you pounce on him— you love his voice, but you’re tired of talking about something you could be doing.

If you both were a little less tipsy, the kisses would probably be less frantic. But neither of you seem to care, hands grabbing at each other desperately as you search for better ways to pull each other closer.

“You have no idea,” he pants between kisses, “you have no fucking idea how badly I’ve wanted this.” You shudder into his lips, raking through his blond locks and tugging at the ends as Chan’s grip tightens on your hips. He takes a sharp inhale before picking you up, waiting for you to latch your legs around his torso before he slides his arms under your legs. As he walks around the car, you both never separate; you’re actually surprised when you feel the cool metal of the hood come into contact with the backs of your thighs.

He nestles himself between your legs, resting his hands on your thighs and tracing the distressed hem of your denim skirt as the bass of the song picks up. You’re lucky you’re on the hood and not the trunk; the subwoofers vibrating against you would have been too much for sure.

He pulls away from your lips, dipping his head to catch his breath as he pants into the crook of your neck. To him, this is insane. He has you on the hood of his car. He has you on the hood of his car.

How is a man supposed to think straight in this situation?

Meanwhile, his hot breath on your neck is driving you to the brink of insanity. Just a raise of your shoulder and he’d be kissing it. Shoot, he could make you crazy with his fingers just an inch higher too.

“Chan,” you whisper, not realizing how close your breathy voice was to his ear, and the last of his resolve practically evaporates off of him.

“Y/n…” his nose follows the curve of your neck as he makes his way up to your face, “tell me if I need to stop, I just…”

He hooks his hands around your knees and pulls, effectively pinning your hips together in a casual display of strength, and you gasp before he seizes your bottom lip between his, sucking and biting until a soft moan slips from your lips.

“Fuck, make that sound again,” he groans, hands sliding back up your thighs to the hem of your shirt. You relent, no longer keeping your sighs and sounds of pleasure to yourself as his hands slide under your crop top, around to your back.

He makes quick work of your bra, releasing the tension around your ribcage before sliding his thumbs along the underside of your breasts. Just thinking about all of the things he could do to you has both of you buzzing with anticipation, panting against each other’s mouths.

His thumb just barely grazes your nipple and you swear you see the world begin to tilt.

You don’t know what it is; normally a gesture that small wouldn’t elicit such a reaction out of you, but the alcohol in your veins and the bass under your thighs seem to bring every motion of his straight to your core. And usually you’d be embarrassed at how loud you are, but you can’t bring yourself to care. Not when he continues just like that, both thumbs barely putting any pressure on the peaks under your shirt.

Your head lolls back slightly, and Chan wastes no time in licking a thin stripe up the column of your neck, stopping right at the shell of your ear.

“Ideally, I’d want to take my time with you, but right now…” his voice is thick with lust as he flicks both of your nipples, and you jolt forward. “I don’t think you’d want me to.”

“Chan, please,” you gasp out, wanting to press your thighs together, “get on with it already.”

He obliges you, hands sliding down to your skirt and then back up under it, looking for the edge of your panties. Once he has them, he pulls them down and over your Nike blazers, tossing them into the convertible onto the passenger seat.

He then reaches behind you, pushing two empty bottles off the car as he presses you flat against the hood. The sound of the bottles breaking against the rocky terrain is barely registered by you though, you’re more focused on Chan’s free hand snaking back up your skirt.

Curses slip out of his mouth once his thumb brushes across your clit; he’s more than shocked to feel just how soaked you are, but you shake your head vigorously, catching his attention.

“Skip it,” you say breathlessly, looking directly into his eyes. He understands instantly, coffee colored eyes practically turning coal black seeing your desperation.

The sky seems to swirl different shades of purple and pink as the wind feathers over your body, and just past the contrails in the sky, you can see the stars beginning to poke their faces into the rosy backdrop.

There is a very real possibility that you are dreaming all of this.

But the sound of his zipper being pulled down snaps your senses into focus, and the possibility of Chan fucking you under a sky like this seems more urgent.

The next minute flies by, and before you know it Chan is lining himself up at your entrance, checking that the condom is on properly before lifting your skirt to your hips.

His eyes flicker to yours momentarily, and you nod before relaxing fully, letting your head rest against the hood as he holds onto your hips tightly.

And then you instantly tense up once he starts pushing into you.

It’s almost embarrassing how easy it is for him to slide in without really touching you, but the hiss he draws between his teeth tells you he’s not really focusing on that.

You’re focusing on how you didn’t catch a glimpse of him before he put it in, and now your entire lower abdomen is tingling in excitement over just how much of him there is. Silly how you were trying to sober up for this moment, only for you to feel high all over again with him fully inside you.

“I- shit, okay wow,” he hisses, dragging himself out and back in slowly. “You’re so warm, god-”

You can’t even respond, you’re so occupied by the feeling of his ridges along your walls that your fingers are already looking for something to grab onto.

Somehow in the haze of it all, you still want to urge him deeper, so you wrap your legs around his waist and watch as he tilts his head back, eyes fluttering closed mid-thrust.

“Oh fuck,” he moans, picking up the pace and holding your hips tighter as you whine, feeling him finally start to brush one of your sensitive spots.

Chan cannot process the scene playing out in front of him. You’re draped over the hood of his car, taking what he’s giving you so easily, face flushed and hair falling over your face from the wind. Your shirt is halfway up your torso, but your skirt is up six inches too high, high enough to see where he's sheathing himself inside of you. He couldn’t make this up if he tried.

The pressure building inside of you jumps to the next level once his hand slides up your shirt again, gently rubbing circles over your nipple as opposed to the faster thrusts down below. Your back arches into his hand as you gasp, squeezing your thighs around him tighter as you do so.

“Chan,” you whine, scratching your nails against the car, and a few more curses tumble out of his mouth as he stares down at you.

“You’re so good y/n,” he pants, snapping his hips against you now, “better than I- ah, I imagined.”

“You’ve thought about this before?” You’re cut off by another moan; it’s a miracle how you can even speak.

Chan doesn’t reply; instead, he hooks his hands under your knees and drops them on his shoulders, then scoops his hands back under your hips and pulls them to his with a quick snap.

“I’ve thought about this before,” he says with a wicked grin, hitting you at just the right angle to pull a sharp gasp out from your lips.

“Oh my god, there-” you moan breathlessly, pressing your hands flat onto the hood of the car as he pounds into you relentlessly.

The sky is spinning. Your heart is pounding. You wish you could focus on something, anything other than the spongy part of you that Chan is hitting to the beat of the song under you, just so you could last a little bit longer.

But the sight of him with your legs around his neck, eyes closed with strands of gold wisping across his face, the look of pure ecstasy painted across his cheeks, ensures that you have close to three seconds before the knot in your stomach unravels.

“Shit, don’t stop,” you say as you feel yourself coming undone, back arching into your release which only makes Chan pound deeper, heightening the intensity tenfold.

He cries out once you clamp down around him, spitting out random strings of curses until he’s emptying his restraint into the condom, slowing down his thrusts as he finally opens his eyes again, locking gazes with you.

He looks nothing short of ethereal with the now purple backdrop of the sky, framing his blond locks with lilac clouds as he slowly pulls out of you, doing his best not to overstimulate you. You almost tell him not to; being that full was nice, something you’d probably never admit unless you were actually drunk.

“Wow,” you breathe out, watching him lower your legs down to the hood. “That was…”

“Crazy, I know,” he laughs, still trying to calm his breathing as he looks at you. “But you were amazing, holy shit-”

“…better than the boys?” You tease, smirking up at him.

He gives you a knowing look, picking up on the funny way you worded the question. But instead of getting flustered, he leans over the hood, caging you against it with his arms.

“Hmm…I don’t know. I think I’d have to try this a couple of times before I can give you a definite answer.”

765 notes · View notes

apomaro-mellow · 4 months

Text

Every Baby Needs a Daddy 7

Part 6

The idea of sharing space on a tour bus was a little daunting, even though Steve had met the rest of the band. He was glad to see how big it was, and especially glad when Eddie led him to the back of the bus where the bedroom was. It had a bed big enough for two, but that was about it. It was more than enough for him.

"The boys will be bunking on the pull-outs out there", Eddie jabbed his thumb back to the rest of the bus.

They were setting out for the first destination on their tour, New York, which would take them about half a day to get to.

"Can't believe I get to go on tour with you. I feel like an actual groupie."

Eddie hopped onto the bed and laid on his side. "You gonna toss your underwear to me?", he grinned.

"Why would I? I already got on the band's bus", Steve smirked, hands on his hips. He glanced out the bedroom door to where the rest of the band was pretending not to be interested in their conversation.

“And they’re really okay with giving us the only actual bedroom on the bus?”

“Sweet thing, they insisted”, Eddie said, laying back to spread out on the sheets. “I think they’re enamored with you.”

Steve beamed as he sat on the edge of the bed, lasting only a few seconds before Eddie grabbed at him. Joy bubbled forth from Steve and he didn’t even mind if Jeff and the others heard Eddie macking on him right now.

“I’ve never been on a tour bus before.”

"Well allow me to give you the official welcome", Eddie said before rolling Steve onto his back and kissing at his neck. "We got hours to ourselves, baby."

"Oh, whatever will we do?", Steve sighed.

Eddie rose up on his hands and knees to look down at the gorgeous man under him. And just in time for the bus to lurch forward and make him fall over the side of the bed with a yelp. Grant came to the door.

"You guys, uh, want this closed?", he asked, ignoring Eddie crumpled on the floor.

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

For about the first hour, Steve watched the scenery go by the window and Eddie went over the basics of their itinerary. Starting from New York, they'd be cruising down the east coast.

"It's probably not as grand as the worldly traveling you've done before but I intend to show you a good time", Eddie promised, tracing the lines in Steve's palm.

"Actually, I haven't traveled all that much", Steve admitted. "When you're raising up a proper omega, you can't just let them loose unsupervised. I've been to California and Washington a couple of times with my parents but besides that..."

"Then I'm really gonna show you a good time."

"You can start right now. Bus isn't stopping for a few hours, right?" Steve pushed Eddie onto his back and rolled on top of him. In preparation for this trip both of them had been tested and been given a clean bill of health. Steve's cunt was already clenching at the thought of finally getting Eddie's bare knot. Of feeling his cum coating his insides.

There was something primal about it this time, as Eddie was fucking Steve. Not in any way that was ferocious or intense but in the setting and situation. Grant, Jeff, and Gareth had only great things to say about Steve, seemingly already accepting him as a pack omega. Being given the only private space on the bus, this room was like his own personal den, admittance to him and his omega only.

With his best friends just outside the door, surely knowing what they were getting up to even though there was plenty of noise to cover it, it was like they were sentinels guarding. How could his hindbrain think of this as anything less than a breeding session?

Steve was on his hands and knees, arching his back as Eddie thrust into him. He had started out trying to be quiet, but was sobbing now, begging Eddie not to stop.

Delirious with desire, Eddie started biting at the moles on Steve's back, leaving marks of his own. When he got to his neck, he put his teeth away but nudged at Steve's mating gland. A move so bold and unexpected, it had Steve crying out as he milked his cock. Eddie's teeth itched to sink down and make it official but he bit into Steve's shoulder instead, almost but not drawing blood.

He was still thinking about it hours later, when they arrived in New York and started preparing for the show. Tonight was just rehearsal and sound check for the real thing tomorrow night. Steve wanted to go and even pouted to get his way, but Eddie was certain he'd be bored and not so subtly told him about the hotel's spa.

After a massage, he went into the sauna and saw that there was another omega already inside.

"Did your alpha miss?", she asked the moment he sat down.

"Hm?"

She tapped the bite mark on his shoulder. "Did he miss?"

It wasn't proper to ask about bite marks in any capacity, only for the own of such marks to offer if they felt the information relevant.

"I don't have an alpha", Steve said, though it felt wrong to say.

"So just someone who's keeping you for now?", she asked.

Steve thought about it. Between the gifts and traveling and shopping, he was being wonderfully kept. "I suppose so."

"You must be new at this. I'm Heather. Can I offer you a bit of advice?"

"Steve and um, sure I guess."

"You can't let your generous sponsor bite you like that. The next one that comes won't like it. Might even give you something more permanent just to compete."

"You've had a lot of... 'sponsors'?", Steve asked.

"Mostly CEOs, an actor once. You?"

"He's a musician."

"Really? Anyone I know?", she looked intrigued.

Steve thought about how he'd known zilch about Corroded Coffin or Eddie before meeting him, but then remembered how his attention on the latest music trends was also next to nothing.

"You might. I'm not actually sure how popular they are." He hadn't seen the venue to know how many concert attendees to expect.

"Oh, well, you know what they say. If they haven't got a million than a half will do."

"Right", Steve gave a half-hearted laugh. It had him thinking for the first time if he'd be into Eddie at all were it not for the money. If all he had to offer was that one drink the night they met...

Steve thought about how they'd spent a decent part of the trip discussing chocolate chips versus chocolate chunks and how they'd gotten the rest of the band involved to the point where they had to make the bus stop at the nearest grocery store. It felt safe to say that even without the money lining his pockets, Eddie would have charmed him some kind of way.

That night, they got in bed early but were awakened by the sounds of the others coming into their hotel suite to make breakfast.

"And how did you know we weren't in the middle of coitus?", Eddie flicked a grape at Gareth.

"That was a chance we were willing to take", Jeff said.

Eddie was shirtless, walking around in Garfield patterned pajama pants. Steve had the decency to put one of the hotel's bathrobes.

"This is a CC tradition", Grant said. "Breakfast before the inaugural show of a tour. Then dinner after the last one."

"Everyone shows up, no exceptions", Gareth said.

"None?", Steve asked, accepting a mug of coffee that Eddie had made.

"One time Jeff got into a brawl right after the show. We had our dinner at the hospital", Eddie said.

"Well I'm honored to be a part of such a hallowed tradition", Steve smiled at the implication.

Day turned to night and they arrived at the venue. Steve looked out into the vast sea of empty seats and imagined them filled with screaming people. Eddie gave him a quick tour of backstage and even let him come up on the actual stage itself.

"Can't believe you actually perform like this, I could never."

"Oh I was born to entertain", Eddie grinned. And tonight, he planned on showing out. It would be Steve's first time, seeing and hearing them live. His blood pulsed as the hour got closer.

Show him my talents. Show him I'm worthy. Worthy to be his alpha.

Steve was all set up in the green room but of course had a pass that allowed him to roam backstage if he pleased. The boys also used the space to get ready for the show and he saw that they all had a pin with a horned red demonic head.

"What's this?", Steve asked, fiddling with the pin on Eddie's vest.

"Something from our old high school club. Keeps us from forgetting our roots."

"That's...really sweet." They'd known each other for so long. Steve was realizing how incredible it was that he'd been allowed into the fold like this.

The show finally started and at first, Steve watched a feed from the green room. He'd listened to a few songs but it was still a surprise to hear the way Jeff growled into the mic. It was hard for him to take his eyes off Eddie though. And soon, watching from a TV, no matter how clear the image was, wasn't enough. He put in the earplugs Eddie had given him and he left the green room.

Like a magnet, he went to the wings of the stage, still mostly hidden, but he could see everyone in the band from where he was standing. The crowd was a sea of energy and Eddie looked like there was no place he'd rather be. That is until he caught sight of Steve. His feet were frozen in place now but his hands kept moving against the guitar.

Steve bit his lip, thinking about how those same fingers moved on his body and made him sing in much the same way. Tonight he was going to give this man the ride of his life. His thighs rubbed together just thinking about it and Eddie's eyes caught the movement. Then his gaze met Steve and Steve just winked coyly.

The song ended and both of them were brought back to the present moment. Taking a breath, Steve took a step back and returned to the green room. It was a lot, being right there. He couldn't imagine how it must feel to actually be on stage. The concert went on and after thanking their fans for a stellar time, Corroded Coffin bid them good night. Eddie was the first one through the door which was good because Steve had been standing right behind it.

"Well?", he asked, wrapping his arms around the omega.

"You guys were great! Incredible!"

"Aw shucks, you're just sayin' that", Gareth smiled.

Steve was saying something in response, but Eddie only caught part of it. He was always keyed up after a good performance and needed something to help him burn off the extra energy. Usually in the form of an after-party or sex. He nuzzled at Steve's neck, holding him close. He did good. Steve thought he'd done good. No, he said great. Incredible. Steve had even come to see him with his own eyes. And he'd gotten turned on watching him play, Eddie knew it. He'd responded to his call.

"Are you, are you scenting me?", Steve asked quietly.

Eddie paused. They always carried each other's scent for a little while after sex, but this had been more purposeful. Eddie finally recognized the familiar itch under his skin and pushed Steve away, nearly throwing him at Grant.

"I gotta go", he said, leaving the room quick as lightning.

"What was that all about?", Steve asked, looking to the others. But they were just as confused as him.

Chrissy came in just about a minute after, her face like stone as she closed the door behind her. "The schedule's going to need some adjusting", she said. "Eddie just went into rut."

Part 8

Tag Team

@awkotaco24 @lingeringmirth @littlewildflowerkitten @estrellami-1 @tartarusknight @velocitytimes2 @mrsjellymunson @trashcanniballecter @paintsplatteredandimperfect @a-little-unsteddie @sllooney @starman-jpg @oxidantdreamboat @xxbottlecapx @newtstabber @tiny-enthusiast @desidrarry-wolfstarshipper @y4r3luv @hello-fellow-nerds @anonymousbandgirl @alyelf @potato-of-the-lord @beckkthewreck @croatoan-like-its-hot @pluto-pepsi @abstractnaturaldisaster @ellietheasexylibrarian @eyesofshinigami @dragonmama76 @marklee-blackmore @greatwerewolfbeliever @chaosgremlinmunson @blackpanzy @millseyes-world @batxsignalsx

#apo writes #stranger things #fanfiction #steddie #omegaverse #a/b/o #soon it'll be my turn to write crying sobbing whimpering eddie

374 notes · View notes

foone · 8 months

Text

annoying chronomancer who keeps dropping references in casual conversation to shit you don't understand. when asked about it, it turns out it's a movie that won't come out for 400 years and not in this universe anyway. when you can bend time and multiversal space to your will, pirating interdimensional anachronistic cable is trivial, so you end up consuming a lot of media that no one else will have seen or heard or felt or tasted.

You go over to their house for a party and they've got some other chronomancers over and they're all watching a sranga (it's like anime, but from quellistan (which is off the coast of west africa, just not in this timeline)) and it's from 1472 (Yeah that timeline invented animation real early!) and all the subtitles are in binary, but instead of 1 and 0 they're using 4 and 8? also they say some of the highlights on the characters can't be really enjoyed unless you can see ultraviolet. don't worry, by 2076 everyone will have that gene therapy to widen the range of their personal visual spectrum.

chronomancers are such jerks. Anyway the whole point of this is that even though this happened back in 1963, your chronomancer "friend" complains about that "ideas are bulletproof" speech from V for Vendetta. That's why they got one of their magical pistol buds to help them out, and she invented an Armor-Piercing Anti-Ideological Rifle. You ask why they would do this, and they said they were just so tired of everywhere playing the same 5 songs by The Silver Jimmies. You say you've never heard that band, are they from the future? No, they formed in 1958, and became the #1 best selling musical artist in 27 countries. You ask what timeline, and they say this one. At least, until they got their new rifle.

again, chronomancers can be jerks.

#chronomancers #my writing

845 notes · View notes

callsign-marlie · 2 years

Text

Hey Pretty Girl

The Five Times Jake calls you his favorite pet name + one bonus little baby taste of angst :3

pairing: jake 'hangman' seresin x f!reader genre: FLUFF warnings: unedited, light teasing and innuendos, mention of pregnancy and child birth, no y/n used a/n this is total fluff and it was just what I needed. very short in comparison to my normal things but i almost wanna do all of the young pilots with this prompt and a different quote each time, it was so wholesome ;^;

Please feel free to like, comment and reblog. Much appreciated and much love - marlie x

---

The First

“Hey pretty girl, slide me a bud, will ya?”

Blonde hair and blue eyes, a coy smile. Tanned skin pinched with a glaze sunned pink at the top of his cheeks and a clean pressed khaki uniform. The cap popped off of the glass with a fizz before you slid the bottle to him. “$5.50 for the boy in brown.”

“The boy,” he scoffed. Thick fingers gripped around the neck of the brew to coat his nails in condensation. The amber liquid swirled the enclosure of glass as he placed the rim to his lips. His eyes never left yours. “Not a boy. A man, darlin’. More of a man than any one you’ve had before tonight, I can assure you that.”

“And who said I wanted you, fly boy?” Your elbows were on the bar, leaning over the mahogany top. Even with the challenge of cleavage at your disposal, he never broke away from your gaze.

“Your eyes say enough. See ya soon, gorgeous.” He scribbled his name on the merchant copy of his receipt. A wink, the shine of a grin, and away he turned.

You grabbed at the soggy slip of paper to find chicken scratch handwriting with ‘Jake’ and a phone number written on the bottom. Jake, huh?

The Second

“Hey pretty girl, that spot’s perfect. Just like me, right?”

He had bought you a bundle of sunflowers on a whim. They were gorgeous and tall, standing bright against the navy of your entry way in the antique crystal vase your mom had given you. Jake had cleaned up nicely in a crisp button down and slacks for your date to the local brewery down on the coast and had bought the bouquet for you on the ride home from a local farm stand. “Now you can think of me every time you leave the house and smile to start your day.”

You rolled your eyes, an endeared grin on your face. “You’re an ass, Seresin.”

“Maybe, but I’m your ass and that makes me the best ass around,” he chimed, jokingly hitting the back of his rump. “And this ass ain’t leavin’ for quite some time doll.”

“Then tell me, baby, what happens if the flowers die? How would I ever remember you then?” You lovingly wrap your arms around the top of his shoulders, careening up on your tiptoes to touch his nose with yours.

His fingertips brushed a strand of hair that roguishly fell into your eyes. His eyes were the color of sea grass and his gaze was softly focused on your lips. “Guess we’re just gonna have to go on more dates so I can get you more, right?”

The Third

“Hey pretty girl, may I have this dance?”

The reception was over and your feet were on fire, but you were finally home in your little shared apartment on base. Your hand, now coveted by a new diamond wedding band, sparkled under the high hat lights as Jake helped you up from the couch to the smooth sounds of John Mayer echoing in the background. Your white gown sweeped against the floor as he pulled you to his chest.

Jake, your perfectly perfect Jake, dropped a soft kiss to your forehead, to the tip of your nose, to your lips. “Mrs. Seresin,” he whispered at each pass of his lips. You let your bare feet stand atop his, still encased in his military issued loafers and let his strong legs take you on a slow rock in your living room. It was the first time today that the two of you had been just alone: where the room wasn’t vibrating with clinking glasses or loud party music.

Jake swayed with you gently even as the song changed, his hands dropped to your waist to rest on the crest of your bejeweled bum. You raised an eyebrow at your cheeky husband, who simply rolled his eyes and gave a boyish grin. “Just let me enjoy this baby.”

The Fourth

“Hey pretty girl, lemme help you, hold on.”

Jake’s large hands snuck underneath your rounded belly, lifting just enough weight to let your spine relax under the constant pressure of pregnancy. The dishes you were washing were suddenly forgotten and slipped from your fingers. A blissful sigh. “Ohhh, that’s the stuff, don’t stop.”

“Damn, all of my talent in bed and I’ve never heard you sound like THAT before,” he huffed, slowly letting your belly back down. “All I had to do was lift up peanut here and you’re putty, huh?”

You pouted at the returning strain and snatched his hands back to place. You tilted your head to the side to leave a kiss and a teasing nip on his bicep. His fingers tickled over your skin in amusement.

“Uh-uh, don’t even think about it, Seresin. You stay right there.”

The Fifth

“Hey pretty girl, I’m your daddy.”

Tears were welling up in his eyes while he held the small pink bundle in his arms. She was so sleepy after making her grand entrance, kicking and yelling the entire birth. “Oh my god, I’m your daddy!”

“She looks just like you.” You were laying in your bed, completely spent, but glowing after all of your hard work pushing your new little love into the world. “You’re gonna be a great daddy, Jake.”

“And you’re gonna be a great mommy, honey girl.” He carefully made his way over to the bed and sat on the side to let your little girl close. Her eyes were closed and soft little breaths were leaving her mouth. Jake leaned over to plant a chaste kiss into your hair, your nose, your lips. He lingered longer than normal, touching his forehead to yours.

“My pretty girls. All mine, all mine, until the day I die. I’ll never want nothing more than this.”

Bonus: The Sixth

“Hey pretty girl, I’m alright.”

You launched yourself at your husband, tears streaming down your face. He winced under your arms, but did his best to wrap himself around you through all of the wires tubing he was attached to. Safe. His smooth hands rubbed up and down your back as you sobbed into his shoulder, leaving light taps on his back. “Don’t. You. EVER. Do. That. Again.”

“What, eject? It’s either that or die, and I’m too good to die while I’m still so young and handsome. You don’t want me to leave you a widow so soon, do you?” His megawatt smile showed reassurance, but you weren’t so sure it was real. You knew Jake better than he knew himself. His eyes, blackened from his impact, held something behind them that wasn’t there before: a fear. His façade was cracking at your worry.

“You won’t lose me, pretty girl. I’ll be here. I’m not leaving.”

“Promise me?” Your eyes just wouldn’t stop tearing up. “Promise. Cross my heart and hope to die.” His fingers made an ‘x’ over his heart. “And I really, really don’t wanna die. I have my whole life with you to look forward to.”

#top gun maverick #top gun maverick ff #jake seresin #jake seresin ff #hangman top gun #hangman fanfiction #hangman x reader #jake seresin x reader #HANGMAN.#god i love this douche so much man

3K notes · View notes

abibliophobiaa · 2 months

Text

right where you left me

chapter three: you can hear it in the silence

summary: steve harrington is unlucky when it comes to matters of the heart. for years he’s been in love with his best friend, but circumstances have made it impossible for him to make his feelings known. fate seems to have other plans, when you ask him to help you escape your wedding day, with nothing but his hand to hold and a car to drive off in. you suddenly find yourself headed back to hawkins, back to the place that feels so unfamiliar now — back to the place where you first fell in love.

warnings: 18+; smut - r is inexperienced; alcohol mentions; class differences; financial insecurities; time skip, where r and steve are parents, purposeful vignette-like/short scenes to cover a larger span of time in this mini-series.

steve harrington x f!inexperienced!reader || best friends to lovers, mutual pining, second chance romance with the town handyman who lives in a cabin in the woods.

masterlist

——

Steve kisses you like he’s done it a thousand times before. He kisses you and it feels like kismet — like pieces of a puzzle shifting together. He kisses you, and you feel like you could take to the sky, run a marathon, or leap into the unknown with only his arms as safety.

And you soak up every moment. Every precious second as his lips move over yours, fingers twining around your hips, tugging you flush against him. It shifts, the atmosphere changing, the intensity of his kisses deepening. Heat rises in the room and it has nothing to do with the fire burning in the fireplace. You soak up every soft breath from his lips as you swipe your tongue over his — soak up the breathy moans that pour from him when your fingers glide over the planes of his abdomen, over the softness of his stomach, the hardness of his cock in his jeans.

And it’s there that your experience falters. That nervousness creeps in, because when you jolt back at the unexpectedness of it kicking up in his pants, he presses your palm harder, seeking friction, whispering that it’s okay. That you’re doing everything right.

The nerves ebb. “I - I want it to be good for you,” you say, breathless, “I just - I don’t —”

“It’s already good for me,” he whispers against your collarbone, tugging you down onto the couch, his body hovering above yours. “Pretty sure I’ve never been so hard in my life. But I really just want to make this good for you. Do you trust me?”

With your life. “Yes.”

“Can I take these off?” He slides a palm along your leggings, index finger toying with the band that rests high on your waist.

“Please.”

Deft fingers curl and tug. Slide them down your thighs, baring naked skin. Those same fingers glide over your ankle, up the curve of your leg, the glide of a hip. They toy with the edge of your panties; simple black lace, which you blow out a grateful breath for choosing that morning.

“Still with me?” he rasps, fingers stroking over your lower abdomen, your muscles dancing under the touch.

Hazel eyes, nearly molten honey now in the firelight, meet yours. Flickering with a look you’ve never seen within them before. Lust — for you. At your slow nod, eyes fluttering at the feel of his fingers sliding over the edge of your panties, he pushes the flimsy fabric to the side. Exhales shakily at the first brush of him, robbing your air straight from your lungs.

He drops onto one elbow, palm cradling your head with the softest of touches, lips molding to yours as he slips the first finger inside, your back arching up against the delicious intrusion.

Reality spins around you. Turns on its axis as Steve’s lips move to coast along your abdomen, against hip bone, the inside of your thigh. As your best friend slowly, carefully, reverently slides your underwear down your thighs and whispers a question that has you sighing a soft ‘yes,’ just as your panted breaths turn into cries of his name into the living room. As your heart races when his tongue glides over your clit just so — as he licks at you like it’s his job, a dream come to fruition at last, something he’s wanted to do all his life.

“I - I’m —”

“It’s okay,” he whispers, squeezing at your thigh with his free hand, “it’s just me. You can let go.”

No one has ever touched or kissed you like this. And you’ve never…never spiraled like this either. Never felt so close to the edge of pure, endless pleasure. Never seen the peak, never skirted over the edge, crying out another’s name.

Until now.

Steve knows this. Soothes you through it, crawling back up your body to brush at your cheek as you clutch his shirt tight, gasping breaths warming his flushed skin. As you float back to reality, a hazy mass of trembling limbs, he cups your chin and kisses you soundly, tongue gliding over yours, tasting yourself on him.

“We can stop,” he manages to get out before your fingers slip to grip at the hem of his top, tugging at the fabric, wanting it off.

In one swift movement, he grips the collar from behind his head and rips it free from his form, the ripple of his arms, chest and stomach dancing in your vision. He swoops back down and kisses you anew, body against body. Pulling back, you sit up against the armrest of the couch, Steve leaning back onto his knees. He watches with rounded, heated eyes as you grab at your own sweater and slide it up and off your frame, revealing a matching black bra to the panties that now lay discarded on the floor.

Your fingers reach behind you to grip at the clasp of your bra, appreciating the way Steve’s throat bobs.

“Wait!” His shout has you pausing, your eyes narrowing in fear of rejection, until he eases that nervousness away with the fumbling of his jeans, pushing them down around his ankles before kicking them into the corner of the room. “I want you to be as comfortable as possible. It seemed fair. We’re equal now.”

In one movement, you unclip the bra. Straps flutter around your shoulders, the cups freeing from your breasts, the warmth from the fire skittering along your flesh. Heart racing, you watch as Steve grips at the band of his boxers, pushing them down and off his thighs, the part of him you’ve never seen before slapping against the soft of his stomach. Against the dark hair that trails there. He’s hard and huge and there, the evidence of his desire on display.

Curiosity and reverence has you inching closer on the couch, settling your palms against his abdomen, gliding up and over his chest and shoulders, down his biceps, along the backs of his hands. Nervously, you raise one to your breast, gasping as his fingers cup the fullness of it in his palm, cradling it, brushing over a nipple with a thumb as his forehead drops against yours.

No one has ever touched you like this before. Before, it had been a rush and a hurry in the back seat of someone’s car. A flurry of movement. But Steve’s gentle touches roam your body, his other hand coming to cup the other breast, sliding down your sternum, along your stomach, between your thighs, making you whimper against his lips. Hesitant fingers reach out, trail along the rippling muscle of his abdomen, over the line of hair beyond his naval, the long and thick cock lingering in the space between you.

A trembling palm curls around him and experimentally moves, a gesture brought on by human instinct alone, an upward and downward stroke that has Steve’s forehead falling to your shoulder, rasping out a curse into your skin.

“Like this?” you ask through a pleasant sigh as he curls that digit within you in the way that had you crying for him moments ago, marveling at the way he grapples at your side with his free hand, fingers pressing tight to the fullest point of your hips.

“J-just like that, honey,” he stutters, lifting his head again to claim your mouth in a fervent kiss, swallowing your pretty noises. “Are we really — is this really happening?”

“You’re not dreaming,” you giggle, shrieking as he shifts you both over so you’re rolling onto the floor, onto the endless mountain of blankets and pillows below. “Steve!”

Broad palms press against your cheeks, lips falling against yours, a hum spilling from you. Without a moment to even try and stop your head from spinning, Steve drops kiss after kiss to your skin. The curve of your neck, the line of your collarbone. The dip of your sternum. A tongue glides over a pebbled nipple, bringing it into his mouth, hazel eyes locking on your own with a blazing heat behind him as another callused palm kneads the other. You could unravel just like that, with his eyes on you, drinking you in like he is now. But you know you want more. You want it all with him. Want to feel every inch of him that’s presently resting against your inner thigh, want to feel him inside, closer than he’s ever been before.

“Steve,” you rasp, curling your fingers in his long tresses, “I want — no, I need you inside me.”

He shifts up onto his elbows, peering down into your eyes. A shudder licks along your spine, the realization of what you’re both about to do dawning. The importance of this moment; a moment that’ll change everything you know about your relationship fully and completely. Where there might be nervousness, you only feel solidity in your choice — excitement, to finally be taking this step, this leap, with Steve.

“Please,” you whisper, feeling your cheeks and chest warm under his gaze.

A palm comes up to seek his face, brushing back the hairs that fall over his forehead, so messy and perfectly him. With a slow exhale, Steve curls his palm around the back of one of your knees, parting you for him, lifting it a bit into a bend. Instinct has your ankle hooking around the back of his knee, tugging him closer, shuddering at the feel of him against your slick center.

“I’m on the pill,” you blurt out quickly, “And you know my experience is…”

“I want you to know right now that this is the best night of my life,” he promises, knuckles brushing along your temple, quelling your nerves, “you could never disappoint me, okay?”

A nod.

“I’m clean, and I’ve never —” he gestures to where you both lay bare, “without a condom. I just want you to be sure. We can stop at any point.”

“I want this,” you tell him, curling your ankle tighter around his thigh, the heel digging into his muscle to draw him closer.

He grabs himself in hand, those dark eyes locking on yours. “Look at me,” he whispers, and you feel him nudge at your entrance, “it’s just us,” and he’s sinking in.

Slowly, so, so slowly.

“P-perfect,” you stutter out, clutching at a forearm as he inches in a bit more, that unfamiliar burn making you wince. Worry clouds his eyes, but you shake your head, “just…go slow, okay?”

“I don’t want to hurt you.” He pushes a little further, gauging your reactions, clutching at the bend of your thigh, thumb stroking along the inside of your knee lovingly. Another inch, and you lean up to kiss him tenderly. “Ah, shit —”

“W-what?”

Anxiety fills your tone, and he shakes his head rapidly to assuage your fears. “No. No. You just feel too good. I’m trying to make this last.”

Heat blooms in your chest at his words, hips rolling experimentally from beneath him, that burning dulling into a pleasurable fullness. The delicious stretch of him giving way to something…new. Something different. Twine spills out before you, a coil, a line you feel growing tighter with every passing moment. He gasps out a breath. A hot puff against your collarbone as his head falls, wispy hairs teasing along your warm skin.

“More,” you pant, clutching at his shoulder as he fully seats himself inside, pussy clenching around him at the newness of being so full of Steve.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.” You nod, head falling back as he pulls back, nearly pulling out, and drives back in. In and out, in and out, beginning something you know will forever change your relationship. “Oh god.” A gasp, as he repeats the motion again and again, brushing against a part of you that you didn’t even know existed.

“You’re so tight, baby,” he grounds out. He pulls back, pulls out, and you nearly cry with the loss of him, until he smirks and pushes back in, punching your breath straight from your lungs. “It’s like you were made for me.” You could cry, you could feel tears prickling at the corners of your eyes as you lose yourself to this, to this moment — to him. “Tell me you’re mine. You’re finally mine.”

“I’m yours,” you promise, keening as he lifts your thigh higher onto his hip, driving into you in a way that makes white flash behind your eyes, “and you’re mine.”

The words you want to say bubble on your lips. The three words with the power to change everything. The three you’ve denied yourself all these years in fear of the rejection that might come should you ever utter them. But you feel them with every beat of your heart, with every roll of his hips, with every kiss he presses to your lips as you inch closer and closer to release.

And it’s there. Right there. That elusive thing you’ve only heard about with friends in mixed conversation. That blooming low in your belly, the unfurling as he continues to grind into you over and over again, the flame licking in the space where you’re irrevocably connected to him now in a way you’ve never been before.

“Steve — I’m —”

“I’m close too,” he grunts, chest pressing against yours, lips at your cheek. “Let go with me, yeah?”

It ripples through you with a broken sob, and the feeling of Steve’s hips faltering in their rhythm as he finishes, warmth spilling into you. Hearts race. Mouths come together in the middle, foreheads pushing against one another. Your hands tangle together like whispered secrets on knitted blankets, against pillows littering the floors.

Neither of you pulls away, bodies only rolling enough to face one another, his softening cock still inside of you. Fingers trail along his bicep as his other arm slides beneath your head, cradling you there. It’s all sweet and soft kisses against skin. His mouth at your brow, your cheek, your jaw…lips. Different and yet it feels like something that’s always been meant to be. A part of the two of you never tapped into.

Until now.

“So…”

“So…” You nuzzle your nose against his, blinking up at his tired, blissfully hazy eyes.

“That was…”

“Perfect?” you finish, gliding your fingers through the hair curling around his ear.

“Perfect,” he agrees, index finger gliding up and down the line of your spine, “everything. Tired, hmm?”

He watches the flutter of your eyes. The telltale yawn that pours from you. The liquid form of your limbs draped over his own. Your head rests over his chest and fingers dig into his hip.

“Let me take care of you and then we can pass out, okay?”

He parts from you with a whine, limbs aching a little as you stretch and he disappears into the bathroom, only to come back with a warm washcloth to clean you with. It’s tossed across the room a moment later, the man of your heart rearranging the pillows around the floor into a better makeshift mattress, blankets already tucked low around your hips as you find him again, your bare chest pressing against his.

“Steve?”

“Yeah, honey?”

“I just want to remind you that you’ve always been enough,” you tell him softly. Quietly. “I’ve only ever wanted you.”

“You have me,” he promises, squeezing you tighter. “I’m yours.”

And you’re his.

A beautiful thing that curls around you both as you slip into sleep.

You’re grateful for a holiday weekend, because for the next three days, neither of you leave the comfort of the bedroom. It’s there that you learn every inch of Steve. That you remember the way his fingers trace your skin, how he feels when he’s inside of you, over you and under you, what it looks like when you drive him to finish, the way he looks at you when you writhe beneath him, hands fisted in his hair.

For days, all you know is that. The complete and utter bliss of a new relationship — despite the fact neither of you have given things a title yet. And even so, you hardly feel like you need to. You’d both said those words: you’re mine, and I’m yours. Wholly and completely. In your heart you know it, in your mind, and in your body. This is what you’ve been dreaming of for years, this is what you know you want.

He’s holding you now, your back to his chest, his fingers stroking you between your thighs, the fullness of him sliding in from behind. Another arm loops over your chest, resting over your heart, keeping you close. And you pinch your eyes shut at the feeling of it, at the sound of your sweat slick skin against his, the place where you’re joined, the press of his lips against your spine, your shoulder.

“You always.” A kiss. “Feel so.” Another kiss. “Good.” He tips your chin up and kisses your lips, swallowing your moan as you drive your hips back against his, wanting him deeper, wanting to crawl inside him if you could. “Taking me so well, beautiful.” A whine. “Gonna come for me, baby? Want it.”

You’ve been at it for hours. Or it feels like hours. He’d woken up that morning insistent on feeding you, before falling back into bed with you for the third day in a row. Had kissed every inch of you before rolling over and watching you with hooded eyes as you sunk down on him, robbing him of his very breath. That had been a frantic thing, hips rolling over him, his hands digging crescent moons into your sides, little medals for the honor of watching Steve completely crumble beneath you when his orgasm snuck up on him, knowing you’d done that.

Another whine punches from your lungs. Stolen from you as fire licks up your spine and you’re engulfed with it, clutching at his forearm and crying his name with your release, forehead slumping into your pillow as he follows soon after, hips slowing to a stop as he tugs you flush against his chest, whispering your praises against the skin of your cheek, his fingers dancing along your sweaty temple.

“I think that was our best yet,” you laugh, stroking along the hairs against the back of his arm, relishing in the shiver that ripples from him in the aftershocks of his own orgasm. “How about we shower and grab some breakfast at the diner or something?”

“Are you up to grab a tree with me for the holidays too?” At your nod, he grins against your shoulder, “maybe some ice skating and hot chocolate at the rink?”

“Is this our first date?” you tease, glancing over your shoulder to press a lingering kiss to his lips.

He hums against you, breathing a sigh, and you know the contentment pouring from him because it mirrors your own. “If you want it to be. As much as I want to stay here forever, I'm pretty sure our friends are worried we’ve fallen off the face of the earth.”

“We kind of did,” you muse, recalling the parting words on Thanksgiving just days ago now. “I haven’t slept a wink in days.”

“Says the woman reaping all the benefits in the form of endless orgasms,” he teases, laying a love bite against your shoulder, pulling away from you to rise up onto his feet, nodding his head toward the shower. “Come on.”

“No funny business,” you tease, curling a blanket around your shoulders as you follow him into the bathroom, shutting the door behind you.

You only make it five minutes in before you break that promise by sinking down onto your knees.

…And naturally, he repays the favor after.

——

People notice Steve wherever he goes. As the town handyman, he earns a bit of attention. Smiles from those that pass by, waves as he walks down the street, calls of his name from across parking lots. So you suppose it should come as no surprise when you meander through the endless rows of trees, your hand in Steve’s, earning a bunch of stares of your own.

For a while, you’ve been simply the girl who follows in his wake. A familiar face around town while you’ve been here, and a figment of a past time to those who had been around much longer. Now, you were swiftly approaching what you knew to be a permanent fixture in the town all over again.

It feels natural — the weight of his palm in your own, fingers tangled, arms swinging in the space between the two of you, dressed in similar outfits. It’s nothing unusual in comparison to your years long friendship, though now you know what his lips feel like against every inch of you, you know that his heart against your spine thrums like a perfect tattoo while his arms circle you, you know what the weight of him above you feels like.

And even so, you earn the curious gazes of wandering eyes. The glances from those trying to garner what is happening here. You don’t mind it, though. Don’t mind the way people wonder, because you already know the truth within your heart. The depth of the feelings he has for you mirror your own, as sure as the sun rises and sets every day. The realization that this is the start to what you hope might be forever.

“How about this one?” Steve asks.

An hour later you’re both dragging a tree into his living room and decorating it in dozens of shiny lights and bulbs. He kisses you long and slow, fingers in your sweater, foreheads pressed in close, hearts even closer.

“It’s perfect,” you whisper, staring up at the tree, beautifully lit and adorned with love.

“It is,” Steve says back, but he’s not staring at the tree, he’s staring right at you instead.

——

The Hideout is bustling with customers. Endless rows of children constructing and decorating gingerbread houses at one table, while parents and family members alike mill about at the other tables, conversations about the upcoming holidays filtering through your ears as you pass by, handing off drinks and food.

Steve’s not here yet. A fact you notice as you watch the table of your friends grow, the group bent low together, beaming at what the other is saying, caught up in their company as day turns into night.

You’re finishing up handing off water to a table of teenagers when you notice Abi waving you over, a weary look in her eyes. It’s when your gaze travels southward you notice the shaggy blonde curls that you couldn’t forget even if you tried. Nor the pristine suit and tailored pants, the too expensive watch, that tie cinched around his neck. Green eyes drift your way from the bar, arms crossing over a toned chest. Chiseled cheekbones give way to blonde stubble, a messier look than you’re used to on Clark’s conventionally attractive features.

His eyes narrow at your appearance. To him, you’re wearing no more than a pair of jeans you bought off of a clearance rack, and a black sweater with a hole in one sleeve after you’d gotten it caught on Steve’s truck handle. He’s seen you in designer gowns, shoes, decked to the nines with jewelry, looking like the ever dutiful daughter. And now — now his eyes roam your form with distaste, the curl of his lip making your stomach drop.

“I can ask him to leave,” Abi murmurs low against your ear as you slip behind the bar to join her, “just say the word, and he’s gone. Eddie wouldn’t mind if I toss him out. He’s kind of an asshole anyway. Asked me if I had a specific bottle of wine, and scoffed when I said we didn’t. I almost told him he could shove the credit card he slapped against the bar up his ass.”

“Sounds about right,” you grumble, giving her hand a little squeeze. “I’ll be okay. And if not, and you catch me ready to throw a glass and lose my job —”

“I’ll turn the other way and pretend I didn’t see it.”

Offering her a smile, you slip back out and round the bar, grabbing Clark’s sleeve and tugging him to a smaller table positioned away from everyone else. From here, you can see Steve when he arrives and escape if need be. Huffing, you cross your arms over your chest and tilt your head up, staring into that blank stare.

“So this is where you ran off to,” he tuts, snickering, “it’s…charming.”

“It’s where I grew up,” you tell him flatly, “it’s home.”

“Home is in the city,” he says, leaning up onto his elbows, hand coming to curl over your own. Your eyes narrow at the contact, at the feeling of his finger cradling the back of your palm. “Come home. Stop this, please? Your family misses you, your friends miss you — believe it or not, I miss you.”

You bark out an incredulous laugh. “I don’t believe that for a second.”

“Darling…” The hand around yours tightens, and you know he’s trying to narrow your window of escape, to ensure you stay rooted in place. “We had fun together, didn’t we?”

“At events, sure.”

He was kind enough. Was willing to laugh with you, to joke and tease, to talk. But there was nothing of any sort of romantic nature beneath the surface. Your marriage was intended for monetary purposes and those alone.

“You hardly even gave us a chance.”

“Clark, we were in an arrangement,” you remind him. “A mutually beneficial agreement for both of us.”

“Which has since fallen through.”

“And I am sorry about that —”

“Then come home,” he says again, eyes intent on your face. “Come. Home.”

“This is my home,” you whisper, catching the sight of Steve walking by in the window. His eyes immediately narrow at the sight of Clark across from you.

“It’s him, isn’t it?” Clark lets out a bitter laugh as Steve appears in the doorway, approaching your table cautiously. “This is the guy you ran out on me with. Him? You’re choosing him. What can he offer you that I cannot?”

“Love, Clark,” you say, voice breaking at the end, “I love him…and I — I think he loves me. So yes, I’m choosing him. I’m choosing to stay here…with him.”

He fixes Steve with a hard stare, mouth parting slightly, settling back into a firm line. “You love him?”

“Yeah,” you laugh, and it’s watery. A broken off sob at the realization of your admission. “I do. We wouldn’t be happy together. You know that. I mean…you were kissing Christina on our wedding day.”

“She’s, ah, that’s…complicated.”

“But she means something to you,” you tell him, giving his hand a squeeze. “We wouldn’t be happy. You know we wouldn’t. Tell me you can see that.”

His palm slides down his face, head shaking slowly. “Your father’s company —”

“You’re an amazing surgeon,” you remind Clark, “and my father will come around. Eventually. I’m certain. And…maybe when he doesn’t hate me for making the choices I’ve made, I can send over a glowing recommendation. We don’t have to do things just because it’s our family’s way. We can choose our own happiness.”

Clark leans back a bit, his hand falling away from yours, fingers curling around the chair beside him to make room for a perplexed looking Steve Harrington at the table. “Can I at least say hello the man my fiancée ran out on me — on our wedding day, no less — for?”

“Clark,” Steve mutters with a nod, sinking down onto the chair beside you, arm curling around your shoulders. “I’m Steve. Steve Harrington. And, uh, sorry about your wedding day.”

Clark reaches over to grip his hand. “You’re really not sorry, though,” he chuckles heartily, shaking Steve’s hand.

Steve grins, because no. No, he’s not at all sorry, and you couldn’t be happier.

The three of you sit there in that restaurant for an hour, talking about plans for the future. About Christina and Steve. Christina, who is from a not so affluent family. A family his family doesn’t quite approve of, but he loves her. A fact you could even tell after seeing them together in their embrace.

In the end, Clark decides to head back to the city with the intention of making things right with the woman he loves. You also send him on the mission to talk to your parents, to convince them neither of you wants the marriage, and to let them know you’re okay since they don’t wish to contact you as it is.

Once he’s gone, you’re left to finish up cleaning your station, later announcing to your friends that you and Steve are heading for a little walk. Neither of you wants to stick around at the moment. Not when there’s so much to talk about.

Without him even saying anything, you know he’s overheard what you said to Clark. That you loved him. That you love him. Nervousness wells within you as you tug your jacket closer to your form, reaching out to lace your fingers with Steve’s, your hands swinging in the space between the two of you. Part of you wonders if you’ll ever get used to this. Part of you doesn’t, wanting merely to rest in the excitement of finally having the one thing you’ve both always wanted come to fruition.

“So…that was nice,” you say, peering up into his eyes.

The moon shines above, but Steve’s eyes are on your face. A lingering look you feel all the way down to your toes. “He’s still an asshole.” He swallows. Here it is. “Did you mean everything back there?”

“Which part?”

He pauses on the sidewalk, hands curling into your belt loops, tugging you against him. “Well, for starters, the part where you said this is your home now.”

“If you don’t mind having a roommate for a little while longer. At least, until I get back on my feet. Pretty sure my inheritance is not happening ever.”

His fingers cup your jaw, mouth brushing lazily over yours. “I’m not kicking my girlfriend out.”

It’s the first time he’s called you that, no fanfare, no need for explanation. And it feels right down to your marrow.

“Are you…asking me to officially move in?” you question, head tilting back a bit to gauge his reaction to your words.

“Are you saying yes?” He bounces on the heels of his feet a little, your palms resting against his stomach.

“I mean, an endless sleepover with my best friend sounds pretty great.”

He beams. “And then there’s that other part of the conversation I walked in on.”

“What part might that have been?” you prompt, leaning up onto your toes, biting at your bottom lip.

His fingers slide around your hips, slipping into the back pockets of your denim jeans. “The part where you said you love me.”

“I’ve loved you for years, Steve,” you tell him honestly, “I’ve…been in love with you for years. I’ve just been waiting for you to catch up.”

His nose runs down the side of yours gently. “I’m in love with you too.”

He says it so quickly, all in a rush, like he simply wants to breathe the words into existence. To make them known. To speak the secrets that have been lingering in the silent moments between the two of you for years. To give them the voice they deserve. To set them into motion, to flight, to give them the breadth to roam freely.

“All this time?” you ask, swallowing the tears that threaten to spill.

“Yeah.” He nods. “All this time, honey. Always, if you’ll let me.”

You trust that his words are true. You know within your heart he means every single one of them. You welcome the free fall, and what a beautiful, safe space to land you’ve found in Steve.

“Promise?”

“I promise.” A kiss brushes the tip of your nose.

A giggle. “Deal.”

——

Two years later…

Sunlight streams in through the bedroom window. Warms your skin as a yawn spills from your lips, arms stretching against pillows, head nuzzling deeper into the mattress's downy embrace.

A warm arm slides in around your waist, a palm gliding over your stomach. “How are my girls doing?” It’s the voice of your husband that stirs you, chest rumbling against your spine, thumb stroking along your skin.

“We were just taking a nap,” you sigh, rolling over to face the man, “you finished for the day?”

“Yeah,” he says, leaning over to look at the scrunched up newborn resting near your hip. “Uncle Eddie and Aunt Abi’s new house has a nice deck now. They also decided to keep the swing in the backyard just for when you grow up a little bit more, Summer.”

Summer sleepily stares up at her father as he carefully lifts her into the crook of his elbow, bouncing her a little to help her settle when her face wrinkles with the beginnings of a soft cry.

“She’s bigger than she was this morning,” he huffs, the hairs that are getting a little too long on his head now puffing upward with the hard breath.

Giggling, you roll over to lean against his shoulder, running the pads of your finger along her chubby cheek. “She’s the same as she was this morning.”

“Do you think she missed me?” He glances up, hopeful.

“Always,” you reassure him, knowing he hates going back to work after the initial few weeks he took off to spend time with his newborn daughter. “We got an invitation to Clark and Christina’s wedding.”

“At least that wedding won’t end with a runaway bride situation.”

“Hey, that runaway bride became your wife.”

Your own wedding was a year ago now. And because Steve had helped nearly everyone around town, it became a huge event. Nearly everyone in town had gathered around as you walked down a grassy aisle to the man who always had your heart. It was there he pledged forever, a promise to keep you close and your heart closer for all of time to come.

Your parents had even come, deciding that love truly mattered above all else — though a lot of that was thanks to Clark and Christina’s influence. Those two had even become closer friends to you than you ever thought imaginable. Just four people who had come together in the strangest of circumstances, finding that sometimes the person who people deemed ‘best’ for you wasn't actually the right one — and that choosing love would overcome any other obstacle that might try to get in your way.

“That she did,” he says, leaning down to brush a kiss to your forehead.

And now you had an extension of that, in the form of a bleary eyed baby staring up at the two of you. Equal parts him and you, and everything you could have ever dreamed of and more. “Come on, I have something to show you! Summer can come too.”

“You just don’t want to let her go.”

“I never do,” he coos, leaning down to brush a kiss over her forehead, “she’s like her Mom. Has me wrapped around her finger, and she’s not even two months old.”

“I’ll say a prayer for her future suitors now —”

“Hey — she is not dating until she’s thirty and that’s final.”

You shove at him lightly as he leads you down the hall and into the newly extended part of the home. There’s a little sunroom, full to the brim with plants, and just outside on the back porch, he’s added a beautiful wooden swing that overlooks the water.

“Steve…”

“I know you like to read out here, but I figured now that we have Summer…” He settles down on one of the cushions, making room against his hip for you to curl up next to him, watching as the sun begins to set over Hawkins. “We could come out here…as a family. I have more plans too. A seating area over there for when we have company. Maybe some stuff for when Nancy and Jonathan bring their son over for a play date. A treehouse over there.”

“I love it, Steve.”

“I love you,” he says, brushing his lips against yours ever so softly, just as Summer starts to whine in the crook of his elbow. “Oh no, sweetheart, shhh shh. Don’t cry…this mountain I must climb…feels like a world upon my shoulders…”

“Oh, come on,” you laugh as he starts to sing, sides shaking with the memory of your return to Hawkins so long ago now.

“Through the clouds I see love shine —” He continues, and Summer stares up at him like he’s hung the stars in the sky for her. “It keeps me warm as life grows colder.”

“In my life, there’s been heartache and pain,” you sing along, snuggling closer into his side, looping your arm around his and lacing your fingers with his own. “I don't know if I can face it again.”

You both break into a fit of giggles as the both of you sing-whisper out in equally as horrendous voices so as to not wake the baby that’s starting to doze off, “I wanna know what love iiiiis. I want you to show meee.”

You turn to face him, staring intently in his eyes, the song falling off, along with the laughter, as Summer’s eyes flutter shut. “Thank you for this. For all of it. This life we have together. For choosing me every day. Us. Our family.”

“Thank you,” he breathes back against your lips, kissing you as the sun sinks further along the sky, soft and pink and golden — just like the life before you and the one to come.

——

#lunaloveseddie #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #Steve Harrington x y/n #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington smut

311 notes · View notes

savage-kult-of-gorthaur · 9 months

Text

"THE RECORD THAT WE MADE – THE SOUND, THE AESTHETIC, EVERYTHING – WAS SONICALLY BASED OFF OF THE RESOURCES THAT WE HAD."

PIC(S) INFO: SXSW Music Festival -- Day 2: Spotlight on singer/guitarist/songwriter Bethany Cosentino of BEST COAST posing for a portrait backstage at Levi's Fader Fort as part of SXSW 2010 on March 18, 2010 in Austin, Texas, plus a shot of she and Bobb Bruno playing Fader Fort on the same date. 📸: Roger Kisby.

"The first BEST COAST record was recorded in two weeks. We worked with this producer Lewis Pesacov, who we knew in LA, and we recorded it in a studio space that was in a practice space in LA, which is now, I believe, being torn down to put high-rise apartments or some shit. But we literally made it in two weeks. We did not have a lot of money. We were not signed to a label. We just were like, “All right, we’re going to go in, we’re going to do this.”

Then we left for SXSW, and we were one of the big, hyped bands that year. The record that we made – the sound, the aesthetic, everything – was sonically based off of the resources that we had. Part of it was intentional because we were trying to replicate a sound that we liked, and we were huge fans of Phil Spector – Phil Spector’s music, not horrid Phil Spector [the person]. So when the record became as successful as it did, nobody expected that. None of us. I don’t even think our label expected that. I think Mexican Summer was, and they were such a good label, because they were boutique. It wasn’t like signing my life over to a major label that was going to do the thing that I worried about when I was 16."

-- STEREOGUM, "We’ve Got A File On You: Bethany Cosentino," by Rachel Brodsky, July 27, 2023

Sources: www.stereogum.com/2231105/bethany-cosentino-best-coast-solo-debut-album/interviews/weve-got-a-file-on-you, Flickr, & Rolling Stone.

2 notes · View notes

crepesuzette2023 · 5 months

Note

Hi! Because someone just asked me, I'd love you hear your Top 5 favourite McLennon fics!

You made my day! Nothing could have made me happier than this ask.

I'm not going to evade your question. I will post my top-five, even though it hurts to choose. But you inspired me to finally write a longer (okay: very long) post about some (not nearly all!) of my favorites, which will be under the cut.

(Sorry for not knowing every writer's tumblr, by the way. Please feel free to let me know, so I can tag authors where appropriate. Thank you!)

My Top 5:

MIRACLE WORKER by @scurator. What can I say. Every time I need my heart broken and to feel an inkling of what grace truly means, I go to this masterpiece about Paul and Robert Fraser finding each other again at Cavendish in 1981.

COAST STARLIGHT by bookofapril is "Miracle Worker's" cosmic twin. The sun to its night. Paul and Robert Fraser on Fire Island in 1974. Nothing I can say will do it justice, so I won't try. This is the "other world" conjured in "Tug of War," so powerfully and joyfully imagined, it's real. (I'm always thinking of this story, but I did so extra hard when I came across a prompt recently: 'They aren't each other's first love, but they're each other's true love'.)

SAME AS IT EVER WAS by RedheadAmongWolves. My favorite Outsider's POV. An ageing newsstand owner from Liverpool remembers John and Paul as boys and young men. There's something magical about the relationship coming alive in these glimpses. A story filled with tenderness that reminds me to always look closely.

AN ORGASM OF SOUND by @pauls1967moustache. The insanity of John and Paul in 1967 got the tribute it deserves. I sleep easier since I read this story. It feels cosmically right that it exists.

PLANT A SEED by @eveepe. Paul in his slutty sailor outfit in Miami. He and John are into each other, and happy, and fuck slowly. Afterwards, Paul has an idea for a new song. That's it. Tender, glorious, hot perfection. Apply at least once a week for best results.

For more thoughts about some of my favorite stories, sorted into very much defined-ad-hoc categories, read under the cut.

Young Love:

I love the myth of their first meeting, and stories that speculate about the sexually loaded creative fireworks/gritty jealousies/tentative hand-holding/topping and tailing during the first years. Here are some faves:

Paul finds music, and John, and his life is changing. In STREETS OF OUR TOWN (@with-eyes-closed) you can taste the upheaval and promise of first love and growing up. Deeply sensual, even without on-page sex. The shaky, sweet, and all-consuming fire of John and Paul’s first kiss is immortalized in ALL I KNOW SINCE YESTERDAY (RedheadAmongWolves). In NON NOBIS SOLUM (@downtothe-lastdrop), art student John simply has to know how far grammar school boy Paul will go to please him. But Paul matches him play-by-play. In THE CAST IRON SHORE (@m1ssunderstanding) Paul earns extra money through music and sex. John finds out. They fall in love, and hide their mutual pining behind transactions—but in the end, they man up to pair up, and get their band back on track. (The first part is finished; I can’t wait for part 2.) John and Paul’s ’61 trip to Paris has been honored in fiction many times; WHEN YOU ARE YOUNG THEY ASSUME YOU KNOW NOTHING (@lilypadd23) is a slow-burning, blessedly long story that blossoms sweetly. DON’T THINK ABOUT IT is the concept by which Paul measures both his pining for John and their deeply satisfying (but surely not really queer?!) sex life. Perfectly realized Paul POV by @merseydreams. Finally: I NEED YOU DARLIN’ (verse) (by @beatlessideblog) would have fit many categories, but I put it here, because in the end, it’s about young John and Paul becoming friends, making music, having sex, and falling in love. No more, no less. Embedded in a late 50’s/early 60's Liverpool omegaverse in which there's a place for their bond. But, surprise (?!): It’s still complicated. I can’t overstate how charming and satisfying and funny and hot this work is.

Old John and Paul:

Is there anything as lovely as imagining John and Paul growing old together?

In HERE TODAY (@herspecialagent), John and Paul found happiness with each other in Scotland. On 8th December 1980, they invite friends for a party, and fight an inexplicable sense of doom. A reminder that our other lives can be closer than we think, and to keep our loved ones even closer.

GROW OLD WITH ME (@inherownwr1te): Old farmers and husbands John and Paul enjoy domestic bliss, deal with a broken arm, and make sweet love.

HAVING COFFEE (@feathersandblue): John Lennon and Paul McCartney, “one of the most iconic gay couples in history,” look back on their early love, the Beatles, and being outed in the 80’s, in this oh-so-glamourous, well-written 2020 portrait…

Magical re-tellings of J/P and/or the Beatles Story:

No matter where you come down on the blessed vs. cursed continuum—they were living through something magical.

In KISSING THE BLARNEY (@zilabee) the Beatles draw love and music from kissing Paul, and each other, until the stupid world interferes. But fear not, all ends well. How to tell the truth through whimsy: this story demonstrates it.

In WE ARE ALL TOGETHER (also by @zilabee), John and Paul switch bodies. It helps.

I WAS A YOUNGER MAN NOW (THEN) (POST HOC) BY @fingersfallingupwards: Paul is a time traveler and braids his life together with John’s, out of order, through the years. And yes, they do grow old together—but not without losing each other first. I’m in awe of this story.

A darker time-traveling story is A MATTER OF TIME (D12Fan), in which John and Paul love each other, over and over, and never manage to make it work—but Paul won’t give up.

FOR THOUGH THEY MAY BE PARTED (@downtothe-lastdrop): The misery of the 'Get Back' sessions and memory-stunting technology imported from “Severance” are not enough to kill off John and Paul’s attraction and longing for each other. Again, this is basically what happened, so.

John and Paul without the Beatles?

Yes, please! Sometimes, the best way to dissect and celebrate (and fix?) this mesmerizing and exasperating partnership is to lift it from its context and drop it elsewhere. Anything goes.

WHATEVER FATE DECREES by @dailyhowl: A gorgeous, finely spun, securely handled, self-contained vision of how John and Paul could have worked as artists in love, without a band to 'legitimize' and constrain their bond. I love this homage to their deep and complicated love that needed trust and breathing room.

1967 by @walkuntilthedaylight: What if John and Paul had gone to Spain together and not come back? This story not only explores their relationship layer by layer, it also dives into the the feelings of those who knew them 'before' and who now meet them again, as a couple. A fascinating alternate history. Not a fluffy one.

TOMORROW I'LL MISS YOU (@pauls1967moustache): Paul abandons John in Hamburg—or John stays behind without bothering to write, depending on who you ask. This "Before Sunset"—AU reunites them, years later. They ride a bus and write a song, and the love and tension are sweet and painful.

DOUBLE FANTASY (by @javelinbk): Modern AU in which John and Paul meet at John's flower shop and manage to ignore and creatively re-interpret their feelings for one another for a surprising amount of time, before fate has mercy. I love how their sweet, well-matched eccentricity makes the world a warmer place for both of them.

WE ARE STARDUST (Unchained_Daisychain): AU. John and Paul meet at Woodstock, fall hard and fast for each other, and have to decide what to do with it: Paul's life is back home in England...except...

Angst, darkness, and courage:

Pain, fear, grief, and other dark emotions are part of the real J/P story, so it makes sense to honor and harvest them in fiction. One of my favorite brands of McLennon angst is the one triggered by their feelings for each other, and the thing they become once they're together™. When they're scared of how much they need each other, and of what will happen next.

ONE AND ONE AND ONE IS THREE and MANAGING EXPECTATIONS (both by @pauls1967moustache), for instance. The first is a terrifying threesome with Yoko (at John's instigation, of course), in which trust is never rewarded and sex resolves nothing. The second is Paul wondering, in thoughts both messy and crystal clear, whether he exists independently of John. He turns to Brian for answers. They fuck. It feels like a human thing compared to what is going on in Paul's mind. Just astounding.

SUNDAY DRIVER (@boshemians) dives into the theme of Paul and John being afraid of themselves in the aftermath of Paul's accident (moped, sexual) with Tara Browne. This one, like "Managing Expectations," ends on a lovely grace note.

MACABRE (@dovetailjoints). Lennon and McCartney go too far.

OPEN HEART (@paisanas). Paul drinks John's blood. John lets him. But Paul starts to hate himself for how much he needs John, which John feels as rejection. I love how this story ends on Paul embracing his need. You can see the painful, bare bones of their malnourished love under the lush sensuality of the vampire sex. Raw and rich.

SILENCE (@ohjohnnysblog). Short and piercing. If there is someone you love—tell them. Don't wait.

THE LATE, GREAT JOHNNY ACE (@midchelle). Reeling with grief, Paul is recording an album in 1981. George and Ringo are there. John is not. But in the end—he is. And they touch. I've always admired Paul's resilience in the face of having to perform or "prove" his love of John in public, and this story showed me, without sugar-coating, where this resilience comes from.

Light, hope, and fixing things:

There is also much lightness and brightness in McLennon, because John and Paul were ridiculous, and horny, and weird. And also: they deserve a laugh. They deserve the fluffiest of happy endings. They deserve high-quality, life-affirming smut. They deserve silly, because silly is what they were. You know their names, look up their number.

1980. John is in BERMUDA (@scurator), Paul visits. Paul comes prepared, John just comes. Sometimes, it can be this simple. This story always leaves me in such a good mood. Paul is the (more) experienced one, and it...really works for me.

GOT TO GET DOWN (@eveepe): In praise of John's obsession with Paul's...precious. His small and perfect prick.

ADVENTURES IN TOTAL HONESTY (@merseydreams). Pithy and sexy, and, I quote from the tags: #Excessive Margarita Mixing.

ANINUT (@pauls1967moustache): The Beatles heal, together and separately, after Brian's death. Once more, I quote the writer: "The Beatles did not follow any of the Jewish mourning traditions, and frankly, they should have."

The unhinged weirdness of the Mad Day Out, with John and Paul escaping and Francie, Yoko and Mal not missing them...much, is rightfully celebrated in one of the insaner stories I read: JOHN, I'M ONLY DANCING (@skylikeaflame)

FAIR'S FAIR (@javelinbk): John and Paul are being silly during a press conference, resulting in acute arousal requiring John's skilled intervention. I love the unexpected care and tenderness in this one!

WHERE THE POETS WENT (RedheadAmongWolves): Tender and enchanted story in which Paul and John go to a bookstore, where they're not as famous as everywhere else. As delicate as the chiming doorbells and the pages murmuring around them.

TAKEN AWAY (@crumblingcookies) Extraterrestrial Intelligence intervenes to reunite John and Paul.

CAN I TAKE MY FRIEND TO BED? (manhattanvalleys). Paul fucks the band in sequence and gets off in the end, as is his due. This is a story like Prince's KISS. No filler, all effect.

THEY SAY IT'S YOUR BIRTHDAY (@ohjohnnysblog). Warm and nostalgic phone sex in the 70's.

KEEP THE LIGHT WE'RE GIVEN (@backbenttulips). Amidst the rise of Beatlemania, Paul and John expect their first child. This is Paul's 1962 diary.

More Outsider POV's:

STILL MATES (@pauls1967moustache): in 1968, Peter Asher takes the leap to act on his feelings for his sister's spiraling ex fiancé. This isn't about Paul as much as about Peter, and who he wants to be. Gutting character study. It made me love Peter.

ANOTHER GIRL (@boshemians): Astrid reunites with the Beatles during the making of AHDN and registers their words and deeds with the same stark objectivity as her camera. I love how she seeks the shelter of obscurity while they are being dragged into the limelight. But she sees them, wherever they are. J/P in this story feels incredibly real to me.

WHY BUY THE COW (RedheadAmongWolves). The milkman sees everything on his early morning rounds: the arrival of a nice new family, the McCartneys, the mother's illness, the sadness after her death...and the arrival of a new love in the older son's life. He shouldn't approve—should say something, in fact. But a small inner voice holds him back.

SLEEPLESS IN WALES (thinkpink20). Mike overhears Paul and John whisper in bed. He doesn't understand everything they say. I do. Adorable.

Not each other's first love, but each other's true love

THIS YEAR'S FOR ME AND YOU (@skylikeaflame): After a long life, after deep and loving partnerships with other people, John and Paul, encouraged by their grown-up children, finally meet their mutual love head on. A festive story about waiting the perfect amount of time.

THERE ARE ALWAYS FLOWERS (tarenas): The Beatles are in the past; John and Paul's love is in ashes. Paul, who is fragile and bereft, lives with George, who is content. The four ex-Beatles unite for the second wedding of Mike McCartney. At times, the aching grief in this story is almost unbearable. But the love between George and Paul is unusual and real. This is unfinished. I'll keep waiting for the final chapter.

Beyond J/P

WANT ME WHEN I'M NOT THERE (@backbenttulips): Linda catches Paul cheating on her with John. She divorces him. Finally: a story that puts her most likely reaction front and center, with no mercy for the messed-up geniuses.

In the Rebecca-AU LOVE LIKE GHOSTS (@backbenttulips), Yoko becomes Mrs. Lennon. Soon, she discovers that her husband is haunted by the ghost of his first love. It's pleasing how well this re-telling matches the events as they (alas) (almost) happened. The ending is chilling. Genuinely horrifying. I love seeing Yoko as the sensible one and as the focus of empathy.

THE BASS LESSON (@aquarianshift). Paul and Stu fool around without letting go of their mutual resentment for even a moment. And it works. "Let's never do this again." I don't think so.

TELL ME ALL MY LOVE'S IN VAIN (@midchelle). Forget about quote unquote platonically obsessed male rock stars: This about about Maureen and Patti through the years. The web weaving continues.

SPOTLIGHT ON JOHN AND STU (@dailyhowl) A love story in letters—too brief, like Stu's life, but sounding as if the writer transcribed their dictation. Some of the best descriptions of what it must have been like to play on stage with the Beatles during the mania are in NO I IN THREESOME (@with-eyes-closed). George finds himself in the beam of attention between John and Paul, and nearly loses his mind. But he's determined to stay and become part of them. Paul is daddy and "fucks like music" as seen through George's eyes. The whole story is vicious and hot and uncomfortable—until there's the love and quiet at the eye of the storm.

Not for the faint of heart! WHAT THE CIGGIE CARTON SAW (@waveofhand): Paul McCartney having his way with cigarettes.

This is getting out of hand...but I'll stop here. There are so many more stories I love. And I can think of many other categories that would deserve their own post.

So, who knows: To be continued?

#fic rec #mclennon #mclennon fanfiction #mclennon fic #asks #fic recs #overall favorites fic recs

294 notes · View notes

imasoftieforbarb · 6 months

Note

OHMIGOD HI!!!!!! can i drop off a little john dory x reader request?? where reader is also an ex-celeb, but ran away from the public to get away from all the crazy fans and excessive fame? perhaps they were friends before, then reader ran away and JD's emotional stress w/ reader leaving added to him wanting to leave brozone/them breaking up? n mayyybee reader n JD meet up after the events of band together?? or somethink idk!!!! thank you bug :3

- paperclip anon 🖇️

John Dory x ex-celeb Reader

You low key are each others pillar

He would rant to you about how it sucked to be the eldest and all the responsibilities

You complained to him about the crazy fans and the stress of being famous

He noticed that you were acting weird the last time y’all met

So when he got to the meeting place- and only found a note?

He got super stressed out

He also felt betrayed and had a lil cry

This is when he decided to start stressing on being perfect

Maybe you’d come back if you saw how perfect the band was

It got too much, and he left

You’d left to go explore and be yourself

So he was gonna do the same thing

Totally wasn’t gonna look for you

After the band was back together, his brothers were asking about his girlfriend and where she was

He was like ?????? What girlfriend???

“You’re not dating Y/n?”

He’d be so gagged

Questions everything in the span of three seconds before his brain reboots

Has a quick vent about it to his bros

Everyone decides to go look for you cause obviously you gotta reunite the long lost lovers

Queen Barb rings up and is like “heard you were looking for my cousin?”

Now everyone is questioning everything

They found you on a little island off the lava coast of Rock

John Dory stays outside cause he wasn’t sure if he was gonna shout at you or cry

You came out side after the brothers told you what was going on

Y’all had a heart to heart, you apologized for leaving without saying a proper goodbye- explaining that you did so because if you saw him you wouldn’t be able to leave

He tells you the impact it left but also apologized for not being the best friend he could’ve

Then you pause-

“We weren’t dating?”

“I DONT KNOW ANYMORE”

It takes a while for feelings to be recognized and trust issues to be solved

But y’all end up being the cutest goddamn couple ever

You rent your cabin out for steady income and stay with JD in Rhonda

She likes you

More than she likes JD

#brozone #trolls band together #brozone x reader #brozone john dory #trolls john dory #brozone john dory x reader

282 notes · View notes

grapejuicestyless · 9 months

Text

You’re The Winner

Harry Styles x fem!reader

Summery: Harry and you were once inseparable. Both reaching to achieve big dreams. You always dreamed of being a writer and director. You were no where near Harry’s fame, and he knows it. He’s not afraid to let you know it either. Based off the new Conan song, “Winner.”

I didn’t notice it at first, as it came in waves. Tiny jokes pointed at my deepest hurts. Insults baked in sugary dough to hide the sourness beneath. Small snickers traveling around the rooms we were in. Laughter growing when I turned my back.

Soon, his comments became more aimed. Less broad, more explicit. He was blunt in his insults. Snide remarks turning into insults meant only to tear me down.

It shouldn’t have hurt me this much, all these stupid comments. If it were anyone else, I would’ve brushed them off as pure jealousy. But this wasn’t anyone else. This was Harry. A man who had everything. Money, fame, friends, party invitations piling at his door. But more than that, he was my best friend. My guide through Hollywood. The kindest soul that I had ever crossed paths with one fateful night in late 2013.

Back then he was so shy, despite his huge successes. Despite all the gains he was making, all the achievements, all the accomplishments, he was just as humble and down to earth. Never once caring about anyone’s status. He couldn’t care less what projects I was pursuing. Who I was working with, how much money I was making. When I was with him, I was just me. Not some new rising director, some writer chick that was starting to make headlines. I was simply, me.

I don’t know where that Harry went, but this wasn’t him. I considered the idea that maybe a stunt double had stepped in to take the old Harry’s place. All while the old Harry was away at some lavish beach resort in some expensive town off the coast of Italy I’d never heard of. That would’ve made so much more sense, but impossible. This one had the same green eyes and devilishly charming smile. His hair was just as shiny and curly. Physically, he was the same.

To put a date to it, I could say it started around the middle of 2020. He was by himself now, no longer supported by four other counterparts. Finally the center of attention. He’d done relatively well with the release of his first project, but it was his second album that had launched him into a similar success that he had in the band. Magazines swarming him with covers to be plastered on, late night tv talk show hosts all but begging him to sit down on their overly bouncy couches to talk about his love life and music inspiration.

With this new found admiration from the public, the changes were starting to be made. He no longer reached out first, and when he did, it was forcefully. He always made sure to be the one to never text last. Feeling satisfied in leaving another on read. Old Harry could carry conversations into the next day. Texts flooded with his odd facts and silly jokes. Now it was purely business. Maybe some meet ups from time to time. But usually it was me planning to meet up with him. His simple response was a thumbs up, not really caring if I showed or not.

He grew more and more insufferable the longer his fame lasted. Making friends with the best of the best and not even giving a second look to anyone else. So quick to discard those who were once always there for him. He was superficial. Fake. I knew this, but my heart still beat for the sweet boy I met all those years ago. Cherishing the fact he still considered me his best friend, even after all this time. I shouldn’t have, but I did. I did because even with this new asshole persona, I believed that underneath it, the young boy was still there. He just needed to be revealed somehow.

Now I can see how stupid I was. As I sit here, in the darkness of his living room watching some old movie he claims is, “vintage.” Not enjoying myself as I thought I would, but shrinking into the couch cushions, eyes welling up with each new dig he was making at me and my career. Always so quick to point out the clear gaps in our success. Me, having only a few movies and awards to my name, Harry having a room dedicated solely to them. His wins for only his newest album towering over all the ones I’d won in my whole career. I wished I could’ve tuned him out. Ignored how he belittled me, treated me like gum on his shoe. I wish his words meant nothing but that. Just words. I wished and wished.

“You know, if you made movies like this, you’d probably be so much more successful.” He gently smacked the side of my arm, eyes glued to the screen. Not even looking to see my expression.

Maybe it would’ve felt better if he had. Then I would know he only did it to get a rise out of me. Now I could see he was only doing it because that’s how he was. This is who he’s become. That hit so much deeper. I couldn’t blame it on him trying to tease me, or being playful and it coming off too strong. He was just, something almost unexplainable.

“You’re an asshole, you know that?” The words were bitter as they rolled off my tongue. The couch I was once sinking into so feebly losing connection with my skin as I shot up to stand over him.

“What?” He looked confused, eyebrow cocked and a playful smirk on his face. He knew, how could he not. He saw how I cowered away, slinking into another room where the quiet was more evident that the soft chatter and quick glances in my direction. Both of pity and interest.

“Do you feel good about yourself? Bringing me down like that? Honestly, Harry tell me, I’m really interested.” His eyes seemed to dull, the movie no longer of interest to him. He stood to match my stance.

“I was just joking.” His arms raised in a fake defensive stance. Smirk still evident on his face.

“You should be proud of yourself, are you? Take a bow! Are you proud because I’m not. I’m not proud to say that there’s honestly nobody who’s ever done better at making me feel worse. So congratulations, Harry.” I clapped slowly, feeling heat rising to my cheeks, tears brimming my waterline. Harry stood there the entire time, mouth parted open and eyes searching my face desperately.

“I don’t see what I’ve done wrong? I was just giving you some tips.” He could’ve fooled me with that statement. His face contorted into one of pure regret and pain, almost like it hurt to deny what he had been doing. Like he didn’t want to be a jerk anymore. Somehow, it almost made me feel guilty.

“I don’t need your tips Harry! I don’t need anything from you. I am perfectly happy with what I’m doing, I don’t need a boat load of awards to show for that. You said it yourself, right? I’m happy doing what I’m doing, so don’t you dare insinuate that I am not successful. Don’t you dare.” My finger found the center of his chest, pushing back on his muscular frame, eyes blinking rapidly to dissolve any tears collecting, threatening to roll down my cheeks. To embarrass me.

My honesty was met with silence, his mouth closing into a firm line, eyes cold and lifeless looking into mine. He seemed totally calm, the complete opposite of my rapid breathing and heaving chest. It made me angry. How could he stand there, chest to chest with his “best friend” and not care about what he was doing to me?

“Fine, okay. Fine.” I backed away slowly, nodding in his direction. My footsteps picked up, hand searching quickly for my coat that was slung over the arm of his million dollar couch.

I never planned on leaving, but if this was what he wanted, to be a jerk and expect everyone to fall at his feet still, then I would not be part of it anymore. I would not cave to his sick and twisted mind games. I would leave, and maybe, just maybe, if he ever came to his senses. If he could ever see just how awful he was to me and could find it in his now frozen over heart to apologize, I would come back to stand beside him happily. But I would not be the woman who stood behind him, a bystander in the future movie of his life.

Slipping on my shoes and reaching for the door handle I paused. Looking around one last time, taking in Harry, who looked just as defeated as I felt, I saw it. He was crying. He was crying, actually crying. Hand gripped over his chest and clawing at where his heart reside. Body shaking silently. Praying I would come back. I sighed, opening the door.

“Harry.” It was quiet.

“Y/n/n.” It almost sounded like a beg. It felt so good to hear him call me that again, a name I hadn’t heard in years. Not since this personality shift.

“You really are the winner.” I didn’t need to further explain myself, he knew what I meant. There really was nobody else who ever had done better at making me feel worse. Nothing that ever did quite kill me more than what he had done. He really was, the winner.

#harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #harry styles imagine #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #hslot harry #fine line harry styles #yn x harrystyles

397 notes · View notes

naturalband25 · 1 year

Link

#Bands Sunshine Coast #Best tribute bands Brisbane

0 notes

mochie85 · 3 months

Text

A Reunion

One Shots Masterlist | Complete Masterlist

Summary: A chance meeting with someone from your past makes you relive the worst moments of high school. Luckily, your best friend, Bucky is there to help you forget. Pairing: James "Bucky" Barnes x Female reader. Word Count: Over 4k Warnings: Fluff. Flirtatious Bucky. Use of Y/N (only once) Taglist: Join here Dividers by: @firefly-graphics

“Oh god! No, no, no.” You exclaimed as quietly as you could. You turned around and hid behind your hand, covering your face. Bucky was confused- chuckling as he watched you try to make yourself smaller, unnoticeable. As if that were ever possible, he thought.

“What’s wrong? Wh-why are you hiding?” He asked as he tried to follow your gaze.

“STOP IT! SHH!” You tried to shush him. Trying to make him stop jerking his head around and calling attention to your table.

“Why are you HIDING?!” he yelled louder to annoy you. Your eyes grew big with anger, and you kicked him under the table. He laughed and pretended to be hurt as he rubbed his poor shin.

“Ok. Don’t look now, but the woman to your seven was someone I knew in high school.” You whispered to him. Bucky turned his head to see the lady in question. “I SAID DON’T LOOK!” you whisper-yelled as you kicked him once again.

“Doll, if you keep that up, I might need a metal leg to match my arm.” He said rubbing where you kicked him.

“Sorry. I’m sorry. It’s just…she brings out the worst in me. Whatever I got, she got, but better. Always better,” you said with a sneer. “When I got tickets to go see my favorite band, she got premiere passes.” Bucky smiled and shrugged. “She hated The Gorillaz! Said she never got the whole cartoon thing.” His demeanor gave you the impression he didn’t think it was that bad.

“I worked for two years to buy myself a used car. What did she get? A brand-new Lexus with daddy’s credit card. The same weekend I bought my car! She didn’t even know how to drive! Her older brother dropped her off at school every morning. Everyone had a crush on him. They all wanted to be her friend because of Bryce. And she knew it.”

“Everyone…had a crush on him?” Bucky raised his eyebrows at you. You simply narrowed your eyes back at him.

“Not the point, Barnes. When I applied to CalTech for college, she said she wasn’t interested in West Coast schools. A few months later, she showed me an acceptance letter from them! I didn’t even know she had the grades or the extracurriculars to pull it off. Turns out, there was a sizeable donation to the school’s robotics program made so generously from her family.”

“Sounds like she just really wanted to be you,” Bucky said smirking.

“Ya. So much so, that she stole my boyfriend senior year!” you spat out.

“Ouch,” Bucky hissed. “Ok, ya. That one’s a low blow.” He turned his head inconspicuously again to get a better look at your so-called friend. She was beautiful; in the sense that everything was well-manicured and put together. Not a hair out of place. She had an aura of money- evident by the sparkle of her well-placed jewelry.

Bucky turned back to you. You had a more natural beauty. You didn’t try too hard, it just shone out. He’s seen you undercover before in one of the missions where you had to be dolled up. God help him, you knocked everyone out. Even Loki took a break from his brooding to look at you. Bucky has never been the same since.

“Look. It was a long time ago. I tried to go my separate way after high school. I honestly don’t even know if she attended CalTech or not. But what I do know is that I don’t want to see her.”

“Y/N is that you?!” you heard a shrill voice come closer.

Shit.

You put on your show smile. The smile you reserve for undercover missions. “Rachel! What a lovely surprise.” She went up to you along the iron fence of the café’s patio and tried to hug you.

She kissed you on both sides of your cheek as she said, “I didn’t know you were back in New York. I thought you would’ve stayed in California.” You didn’t miss the way her eyes scanned you up and down, homing in on things to probably critique you with.

Her eyes also kept drifting back between you and Bucky. “Wait, I’ve seen you before.” She said pointing to him. “Aren’t you an Avenger?” she squealed.

“Yes ma’am,” Bucky answered, saluting casually with a smile.

“Rachel, this is James Barnes, the Winter Soldier. Bucky, this is a friend of mine from high school, Rachel,” you introduced.

“Wow,” Rachel said, shaking hands with Bucky. “Bucky, is it?”

“James. Bucky is for close friends only,” he said with a practiced smile.

“I’ve never met a superhero before,” she charmed.

“Of course, you have. Dollface over here.” Bucky said pointing to you. Your smile faltered slightly at having the attention thrown back your way.

“Oh my gosh, that’s right! I’ve seen some of your heroics on TV! Amazing work.” Rachel said to you.

“Thank you.” You said surprised. Maybe this happenstance might not be so bad after all. Maybe she has changed.

“All that training and the time outdoors have done wonders for your body and your complexion. You look so much healthier now!”

Nope! She’s still horrible!

“She’s always been lovely,” Bucky interjected, giving you a half smile.

“Oh. My. Gosh. That’s so cute!” she said in a mock baby voice. “How romantic. How long have you two been together?” Rachel asked, prying and pointing in between the both of you.

“Oh, we’re just friends.” You were quick to throw in. You didn’t want Bucky to feel uncomfortable around you and have to explain anything he didn’t need to.

Rachel just looked between you and Bucky. Her eyes delaying in his direction. “Well, now that I know you’re in town, you must come to the charity event my dad is hosting next week. I know for a fact that your boss is going to be there!”

“My boss? Fury?”

“Fury, who? Is that what he’s calling himself nowadays? Yes. He and his wife Pepper have already RSVP’d.”

“Oh, you mean Tony?” you asked.

“He’s not our boss,” Bucky corrected with slight irritation.

“Oh, well, sure. Ok, I can send him the invite and let him know to forward it to you,” she smiled sweetly at you. “And maybe a plus one…” she said, her eyes darting to Bucky quickly.

“We might be busy. You know…saving the world and all,” you quickly declined. The last thing you needed was to be stuck in an event with her and some of her uptight friends.

“Already sent!” she said ignoring you and tapping on her phone. “I hope to see you both there!” She smiled at you and gave Bucky a wink. “We’ll be friends in no time, Bucky!” she said to him as a promise. Not if I have anything to do with it, you thought.

“Ugh. If she thinks that Tony can tell us what to do and go to this party, then she’s just as self-absorbed as she was in high school. You can’t just tell people what to do because you have money!”

“You have to go!” Tony ordered.

“No!” you answered back.

“Pepper and I can’t make it. Morgan’s got a play and Peter is competing at a science fair. You guys are the only other ones invited. You have to go.”

“What do you mean, have to? I don’t have to do anything! Especially go to an event where I won’t know anybody except for my mortal enemy!” you argued.

“Mortal enemy?! Aren’t you being a tad overdramatic now? Besides, you go to my parties all the time. I don’t see you ever complaining about going.”

“That’s because I like the people I’m with and you have an open bar for all the Avengers!”

“Not to Asgardians!”

“Only because they can outdrink everyone IN THE STATE!”

“Why are you YELLING?! WHAT ARE WE EVEN FIGHTING ABOUT?!”

“I DON’T KNOW!” You and Tony squared off, looking at each other with your arms crossed.

“Look, her family are big investors in Adamantium. Her mother is in a council to help get in favor with the Wakandans to get Vibranium…” Tony tried to reason.

“Do you even need Vibranium? I’m pretty sure Steve could just call King T’Challa right now.”

“Not the point…” Tony tried again.

“Heck, Bucky over there probably has Shuri’s number!” you quarreled back, pointing to Bucky lounging on the sofa.

“The princess? No. But I do have Okoye’s. She checks in on me from time to time,” Bucky admitted, knocking on his metal arm.

“You’ve been awfully quiet this whole time, Barnes. Don’t you have anything to say about it? Don’t you want to go? You’re invited too.” Tony addressed him.

“I’ll go if dollface over here goes. And only then.” He stretched out and placed his arms behind his head, pulling his baseball cap over his eyes, signaling the end of his input into the subject.

“I’m not going, Tony. You can’t make me!” you yelled petulantly.

“Consider this an undercover mission. Okay?” Tony placated. “Go. Mingle. Charm everyone in the room. Gather some intel on your mortal enemy. Wine and dine them, then come home.” You squinted your eyes at him.

“Do it for Morgan. She would be so upset if mummy and daddy weren’t there to see her debut as apple tree #2…or was it #3? And Peter! He worked for months on his science project! Think of the sad teary eyes he would have when he sees we’re not there to support him. You don’t want Spider-Man to have sad, teary eyes, would you?!”

“Ugh, it’s not fair you’re using the munchkins as your excuse!”

“I don’t play fair. Especially when it comes to the kids, I would do anything to make the munchkins happy. You know this. Even putting you in the hands of your mortal enemy! Mwuahaha” Tony wrung his hands like a classic villain bent on world domination.

“For Morgan!” you pointed to his chest. “And Peter! Not for you. Not for all the Adamantium in the world. Understand?!”

“Completely!”

“And you’re paying for my dress!”

“Ugh, fine,” Tony said with a sigh.

“And shoes!”

“What happened to the last pair of Louboutins I got you?!”

“I had to be resourceful,” you said lifting your chin. “I used it to stab a HYDRA agent in the neck,” you smugly admitted. Tony and Bucky winced.

“Fine. Shoes too,” Tony conceded. “And you, Manchurian Candidate? Need anything?” he turned to Bucky.

“Ya. My gun is jamming even after I’ve already cleaned it. Do you think you can get me a different type of lube?” Bucky asked with a straight face. You, on the other hand, couldn’t help but suppress your laughter from behind your hand.

“I’m dealing with children,” Tony mumbled under his breath as he started to leave.

“Buck!” you chuckled.

“What?! It’s for the gun! I swear!” he shrugged, proudly smiling that he made you laugh.

You sat next to him on the couch. Your whole body turned towards him as he rested his hand on your knee. “Are you really gonna go with me?” you asked timidly.

“Honestly, I thought you’d never listen to Tony and just flat-out refuse. I was counting on it.” You gasped looking him dead in the eye. “I thought you’d put up more of a fight!” he laughed as you grabbed a throw pillow and repeatedly hit him in the chest. “Ow! Dollface. Stop it!” he chuckled. “Jesus, you’re violent.”

“I could’ve used your help! If you didn’t want to go, you should’ve said something! He couldn’t make both of us go! Big help you were!” you huffed as you settled on the sofa.

“I’m sorry,” he said still chuckling. He pulled you in closer to him as you cradled his body towards yours. It was effortless. He wrapped his left arm over your shoulders and you lost count of all the times he would hold you like this, in the safety of his arms. It never made you feel cold or shiver. It made you feel safe. Protected. Like you could take on the world (and your mortal enemy) as long as he was with you. “It can’t be that bad, can it? You, me, all dressed up with a night on the town. All on Tony’s dime,” he answered looking into your eyes.

Whenever you caught his eyes, you always got lost in them. Blue- like a sunny sky on a cloudless beach. So, when Bucky painted this wonderful fantasy, you could vividly picture it. Little flutters in your stomach sprung forth at the thought of Bucky all dressed up. Looking as menacing as ever. “I hate that you’re being dragged into this. I’m sorry, Buck.”

“Why are you sorry? I’d never leave a man down. Especially you.” You suddenly felt the weight of his body pressed next to you.

“Ok. I guess I feel better about going.”

“Geez, she’s gonna kill me!” Bucky cried as he punched another agent in the face.

“Come now, soldier. What could she genuinely do?” Loki asked, trying to make Bucky feel better.

“You don’t know how resourceful she could be. What she could do with a pair of pointy heels!” Bucky answered.

“Oh, I know. I was there on that mission,” Loki chuckled. “You’re not that late. Besides…” he trailed off as he sunk his dagger into the oncoming HYDRA agent. “This was an emergency: life and death and all that. I’m sure she’ll understand,” Loki said dismissively.

“I don’t even have a suit! I forgot to get one! Oh, man! I can’t show up looking like this! I’m gonna embarrass her in front of her friends!” Bucky spread his arms out, looking down at his leather uniform splattered with ash and blood. His bright metal hand, flexing, as he brought his arm around again to deliver a final blow to the last agent standing.

Loki huffed, cleaving his dagger off some unsuspecting enemy. “Fear not, my friend, for we are finished with our chores, and I think it’s time for Cinderella to go to the ball, yes?”

“What are you saying?”

“I’ll be your proverbial godmother,” Loki spread his arms with a wide grin.

I’m gonna kill him! NO! First, I’m gonna take his metal arm and bash him over the head with it. THEN, I’m gonna kill him!

Bucky had stood you up. You spent the better part of the afternoon getting dressed and working your hair and make-up to go to this party that you didn’t even want to go to. Only to have Bucky be a no-show.

You thought back to what could’ve gone wrong. Did he forget? Was it your fault? You spent so much time dreading this party that you forgot to set any details with him. You didn’t want to think about it or give it any power over you. So, discussing the particulars with him might’ve slipped from your mind.

When you went to his room to leave together, he wasn’t there. FRIDAY said he had already left. So, you assumed that he took a separate ride to the party. Slightly crestfallen, you had Happy drop you off at the main entrance to the museum where the party was being held. Hoping you would catch him on the way in. But he wasn’t here either.

Now here you were, three canapés down with a flute of tepid Riesling, pretending to look at the portraits and paintings rather than engage with anyone else in conversation. You were seething. Your anger must’ve been evident because people avoided you all night. One look at you and they quickly turned as if you were the plague incarnate. Just like high school all over again.

“Y/N is that you?!” Rachel’s shrill voice echoed in the vast room. You closed your eyes, stilling your already fraying nerves. You turned to face her and were met, not only by her but by a crowd of people following her as well. “I hardly recognized you! You clean up so well.”

“Thank you, Rachel,” you said with sarcasm dripping out from every syllable.

“You remember my brother, Bryce,” she said gesturing to the guy standing next to her. Bryce looked handsome and dashing in his tailored black tuxedo. And he knew it too! He had the air of someone who was used to getting whatever and whomever he wanted. Evident by the not-so-subtle way he looked you up and down and leered.

“Of course. Bryce how are you?” you asked, offering your hand for a shake.

“On-shan-tay,” he said with a haughty fake accent. He took your offered hand and kissed the back of it, feeling the sticky Chapstick from his lips. God, at least you hope it was Chapstick. The whole act made you cringe. It wasn’t as smooth or as charming as Loki would’ve done it. It definitely wasn’t the comforting hug and kiss Bucky would’ve left on your cheek. He would’ve squeezed you tight till you went limp in his arms.

Thinking about Bucky made you miss him. You only hope he had a good reason as to why he stood you up tonight. You tried to hide the snide in your lips as you pried your hand back from Bryce. You wiped it behind you, surreptitiously stepping to the side, giving more space in between you.

“Are you here by yourself? I thought you would’ve brought your handsome friend with you.” Rachel said loudly enough for her crowd to hear. “Oh Y/N, you always were the lone wolf. Never one to have any serious relationships. Even in high school,” she chuckled lightly, prompting her friend group to smile and jeer behind her.

“Yes. It was difficult. Especially when someone stole my boyfriend senior year,” you criticized.

Rachel chuckled with a tight look on her face, “I can’t believe you still remember that?! That was so long ago. We were children! And besides, I did you a favor. He would’ve broken your heart anyway. Like he did mine. All he talked about was school and getting into college. He never had time for me. Ugh, men! You can’t live with them, you can’t live without them,” she laughed, signaling her flunkies behind her to follow suit.

You balled the napkin you had in your hand and clutched it tightly. If your hands are busy, they can’t punch anyone in the face, right?

Right?!

“There you are! Sorry, I’m late, dollface. I got held up at work.” Bucky’s voice cut through the nightmarish gaggle of taunts and laughs. They parted to let him through and stared as he passed every one of them, leaving them to gawk in wonder.

Including you! You were right. Bucky did clean up really well. His usual disheveled hair was styled. His black tux had satin lapels that shone under the museum spotlights. But what pulled it off even more, and what made him look so dangerously tempting, was the slight cut in his lower lip. Coupled with the faint sheen of his exposed metal hand, made him look menacing and downright sinful.

When he reached you, he pulled you into a tight hug, burying his face in your neck. He kissed your cheek as he inhaled your perfume.

“Bucky, what happened? You’re hurt!” you exclaimed wiping his lower lip with your thumb. He winced slightly when you touched his gash, holding your hand to his cheek.

“I’m sorry I was late, but there was an urgent mission I had to take care of. I would’ve gotten word to you sooner, but it was all very hush-hush. You know how these things are,” he apologized, taking the palm of your hand and kissing it.

You looked him over after hearing the news, making sure he wasn’t injured. He should be at home resting. Not here, pretending to have a good time so you could save face for a bunch of nobodies from high school.

“Don’t fuss over me, sweetheart. I’m fine, really!” he insisted.

“But-”

“Don’t worry about me…let me look at you!” he said nudging you gently from his embrace. He twirled you around making you smile at his playfulness. “Wow! Gorgeous, dollface! You look good!” his smirk ignited something inside you. A momentary predacious look from his eyes had you feeling shy and flustered. “You look real good!” he said subconsciously licking his lips.

“One question though,” Bucky said, interrupting your sinful thoughts about what he could do with that tongue. “Whose this guy?!” he asked, pointing his thumb to Bryce. Bucky’s tone was serious and possessive. He hadn’t even looked at anyone else since you locked eyes with him. And frankly, you had forgotten anyone else was in the room.

You looked over to Rachel and Bryce, along with her adoring minions, who were now curious as they watched you and Bucky have your own intimate reunion.

“Bucky! You remember my classmate Rachel from the cafe,” you said pointing in her direction. “This is her brother, Bryce.”

“Bucky! It’s so nice to see you again!” Rachel sweetly spoke as she touched his shoulder and let her fingers trail down his arm. Bucky stopped her hand and shook it in greeting.

“It’s James,” he corrected. “Mr. Barnes, if you’re dollface over here,” he winked at you. “Nice to meet you Bryan, but if you will excuse us, I need to make up for my absence by giving this beautiful woman here all my attention.”

“It’s Bryce!” he shouted back, but by then Bucky had gotten you halfway across the floor as you looked back and gave both Rachel and Bryce an exaggerated apology. Bucky twirled you once again and held you close to his chest. Leaving you giggling as you wrapped both your arms around his neck.

“You made it!” you breathed a sigh of relief, feeling that familiar safety and security of being in his arms. “I thought you- never mind. I guess it doesn’t matter now that you’re here.” You looked down straightening his bow tie and fixing his lapels. Embarrassed about what you were about to confess.

“You thought I’d forgotten about you? You of all people?” He hooked your chin as he led your eyes to look at him. “Never!” The promise in his voice never wavered. And the teasing in his eyes made you lose your inhibitions.

“Thank you, Mr. Barnes,” you whispered as you leaned in and kissed his soft lips. He stood there frozen, wide-eyed, and watching, as you kissed him for the very first time.

This kiss would change everything between you. He knew that, but did you? He’s imagined kissing you like this for so long. To finally make you his. But he never acted on it, afraid that you would reject his advances. He froze, wondering what this could mean for your relationship. You felt him stiffen. He stood still, letting you kiss him and not reciprocate any affection back.

OMG, I made a huge mistake. “I’m sorry, Buck. I didn’t-” You pulled away as tears welled at the bottom of your eyes. You had taken a chance and it didn’t pay off. He didn’t feel the same way. You were blindsided by his whole entrance. His whole presence, that you mistook it for interest. The memories of high school came full circle with the feelings of rejection that sprung forth, heating your body in embarrassment.

He pulled you back into his embrace. He wrapped his arms around you tighter, held you just a bit closer, and kissed you back with the hunger and ferocity you had only fantasized about late at night.

He opened his mouth to moan out your name and you didn’t care who was watching at this point. You were finally kissing Bucky, and just like everything else about him, it was better than you had ever imagined.

He winced slightly at the tug of your mouth, and you quickly stopped to see if he was ok- remembering his cut lip.

“No, do it again. I liked it,” he blushed.

“Well, well, well. I learn something new about you every day, Mr. Barnes.”

“Keep calling me ‘Mr. Barnes’ and you’ll learn a whole new side of me,” he teased.

A/N: Inspired by a chance meeting I had with my mortal enemy. This has been sitting on my editing notes for FOREVER. And if I don't publish it now, I fear that I will just keep adding onto the story.

All Works Taglist🏷️ @emarich7 @michelleleewise @coldnique @psychospore @lokisgoodgirl @silverfire475 @fictive-sl0th @springdandelixn @wheredafandomat @goldencherriess @peaches1958 @salempoe @thomase1 @kkdvkyya @a-witch-with-words @mischief2sarawr @sarawr-reads @vbecker10 @peachymallow @irishhappiness @cakesandtom @simplyholl @here4thefanfics @tallseaweed @holdmytesseract @immersed-in-mischief @joyful-enchantress @lokisninerealms @kikster606 @glitterylokislut @loz-3 @slytherclaw1227 @chantsdemarins @the-lady-amphitrite @eleniblue @km-ffluv @lokidokieokie @loopsisloops @n3rdybirdee @melsunshine @gigglingtiggerv2 @lokischambermaid @cjand10 @asgards-princess-of-mischief @chrisevansmaindish

#bucky appreciation post #james bucky barnes #bucky #james bucky buchanan barnes #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky fanfic #winter soldier #the winter soldier #marvel fanfic #bucky fluff #james buchanan barnes

209 notes · View notes