1 - 20 of 39 Works by makesomelove
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“Aw, don’t be like that, Raylan,” Boyd says, teasing. He stops at the side of Raylans truck and taps his boots against the bottom of it, cleaning off any excess grime before climbing in. His buck teeth poke into his bottom lip as he tries to hide his smile.
“Like what?” Raylan says.
“Like I stood you up for the winter formal,” Boyd says. He shivers so hard his teeth chatter. Raylan should’ve left the engine running, kept it nice and warm for him. He cranks the heat all the way up. “There’ll be plenty of other girls there for you to dance with.”
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"What're you doing out here, Boyd?" Raylan asks, in the same tone a man might use to talk another man off a ledge. Boyd's had to use that tone before. Boyd's been on this end of it before, too. The wind picks up, and the first drops of rain plunk! on the metal of Boyd's truck like discordant notes on a piano. It's hard to hear Raylan, as if he's over the phone.
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"Raylan," Boyd says, and Raylan wants to tell him, stop trying to conjure me, I'm already here. "If you could spend Christmas with anyone, alive or dead, who would it be?”
"The alive one," Raylan says. Boyd smiles down at the floor, and Raylan tries not to count it as some kind of win. He shouldn't be trying to make Boyd smile.
"Well, I was hoping you'd say that," Boyd says. "Because I was hoping you'd spend a little bit of it with me."
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Irving is getting ahead of himself. Lovemaking comes after kissing, or at least that’s what he believes in his heart. And kissing, of course, comes after dating.
Irving lowers his cube wall again. "Did you notice if there were any vending machines in O&D?"
"No," Dylan says shortly, clacking away at his keyboard.
"No, you didn't notice? Or no, there weren't any?" Irving says.
"Jesus, Irving, I didn't notice," Dylan says. "Why?"
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“Eddie, what are you whispering?” The wife says, tossing her hair around and giggling. “You don’t have any surprises for me, do you?”
Eddie visibly chokes back another round of land-lover vomit. “Actually, Myra. I do have a surprise.” He reaches into his suit jacket with trembling hands, and Richie doesn’t really want to see what he pulls out. They’re already fucking married, according to this broad, so what else could they possibly do in front of him?
“Why don’t I get you two started off with something to drink?” Richie says, remembering he’s here working and not actually trapped in a torrid love triangle with two strangers.
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Eventually the zucchinis are all decimated and the Furbys are lined up how Bev wants them. Richie tucks his legs in and makes room for other people on the couch. When Mike sits next to him instead of Eddie, he tries not to be crestfallen. Being seated next to Mike is a blessing, and Eddie’s only two cushions away. Richie waits for Mike to get comfortable before plopping his legs in his lap so his toes are touching Eddie, anyway.
“Get your foot out of my armpit,” Eddie says, shoving Richie away. “What the hell are we watching?”
“I’m so glad you asked,” Richie says. For a moment, his stomach twists nervously. But the truth is, he knows he has nothing to be worried about, not anymore. “Who here likes to objectify men?”
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“Fuck no,” Richie says like Eddie’s offended him. “God, no way. Are you kidding? Those guys used to kick the snot out of me. No, fuck hockey players. This ice isn’t for them. This is sacred ice apart from their toothless barbarism. Plus they’re all ugly as fuck. Do you think I’m ugly?”
Richie frames his face angelically with his hands and grins. He’s got all of his teeth in his admittedly charming smile. Eddie shakes his head. Richie is certainly not ugly. As Richie talks, Eddie doesn’t even realize he’s being led further onto the ice.
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“What?” Eddie twists around to face Richie so fast. “You can’t just - you can’t cold call Guy Fieri.”
“Sure I can,” Richie says, his thumb already scrolling. “We’re friends.”
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"Just like when we were kids," Eddie says, grinning, like he's remembering the same things. Richie's mom's footsteps pounding down up the stairs, Richie's bedroom door slamming open as she shouted at them to shut the fuck up for the tenth time.
"Yeah, just like," Richie says. He lifts his hand to touch Eddie's face, wanting to touch him and knowing Eddie won't mind. He ends up smacking his hand down hard, a slap of a caress to hide his want, leaving Eddie frowning so he can go shower and get ready for bed.
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"No, I would've remembered this," Richie says, folding his hand around the un-bandaged parts of Eddie's hand. The gold ring glints on his pinky.
Eddie explains how he stabbed himself and Richie nearly dies. His laughter sounds like someone peeling out on fresh blacktop.
"Okay, yeah, hyuck it up, you goofy bitch," Eddie says.
"How many times is that? Four? The universe wants you to be penetrated, Eds," Richie says. "It cannot get enough of you."
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Jungkook startles awake in the middle of the night and can’t fall back asleep. He's able to drift off ever so slightly, but the quietest noises disturb him and his eyes end up flying open every other hour in a flash of sweaty nerves. The lightning has stopped, and the rain is gone, but the calm after the storm leaves Jungkook feeling unsettled.
For some reason the fact that he doesn't know exactly whose underwear he's wearing - his or Yoongi's - is exceptionally troubling to him.
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"It's a perfect part for you," Jimin continues, giving Hoseok a spoon with little bits of food still stuck to the tip. Hoseok shudders and sets it to dry. "They want a strong dancer - check. They want someone with a bubbly personality - check."
"And they're looking for a middle-aged mom," Hoseok says, recalling the casting post on the website. The exact list of traits were mother-type, ability to learn and perform choreography, ability to memorize. The character is listed as being a matriarch who feels stuck in a rut and wants to explore her hidden talents, with a possible twist. It's an in-progress project being made by a first time director, and Hoseok is more interested in being a part of it than he cares to acknowledge out loud. "Do I look like a middle-aged mom to you?"
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Harry glances down at the floor, then up at Niall, lip curling up in a bashful smirk. Niall wants terribly to kiss him. The opportunity is right there in front of him, and it's the worst idea in the entire world.
It would reach the press. He'd be in the news - CEO and Founder of BeepFodder Niall Horan Sexually Manipulates Underlings. His mum has an alert for him on her computer and she'd see it and have a heart attack. They'd lose sponsors. Even if they didn't publish the footage, it'd still exist. It all still would have happened. Harry would know Niall likes him. The thought of the most vulnerable spots in his heart being captured on film and shown to millions of people makes Niall sick. Going through with this in a legitimate way would ruin his life no matter what.
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"Isn't this going to ruin your juice cleanse?" Niall says, almost uncontrollably, like a fucking idiot. There's nothing he wants more than his dick down Harry's throat, but damn if he can't help but get jabs in at Harry's lifestyle choices. Harry groans at being stopped, his eyes fuzzy and mouth open and slack.
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31 ficlets written for this December Fanfic Challenge.
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Liam cuddles people for money. Zayn is a client.
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"I'm Niall," Niall says, fidgeting under the scrutiny of this mime. "Have you got a name?"
The mime stops right in front of him and brings his face close to Niall's. He puts his hand over his armpit and pops his fingers out, wiggling them, then does the same over his chest and below his bellybutton.
"Hair?" Niall says.
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Warm milk floods his mouth. The hand in Niall's hair tightens.
"Oh my god," Niall says, his mouth full. He doesn't know whether to spit it out or to swallow it.
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And You May Ask Yourself by makesomelove for unfortunate17
Fandoms: One Direction (Band)
15 Jun 2014
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“What do you mean, ‘was’?” Zayn says. “Aren’t these just things that might happen?”
“Uh, no,” Veronica says, looking at Zayn like he’s got the thickest skull in the world. “These are things that will happen.”
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Or, Louzard.
"So what's wrong with me then?" Louis says.
"Well, I'm no expert..." Liam says. "But in my opinion, I’d have to guess, well. Yer a lizard, Louis!”