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mf-despair-queen · 6 years ago

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Rewrite the Stars - Dylan O’Brien

Author: @mf-despair-queen

Characters: Dylan O’Brien/Reader

Word Count: 20,243

Summary: He loved her. She loved him. But could they go against the odds to be together? Maybe not. Dylan fights to love the girl of his dreams while she pushes hi away over and over because of his fans.

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Unprotected Sex, Oral (both receiving), Feeling, Fingering, Dirty Talk, Cowgirl, Shower Sex, Side Sex, Kinda Angsty, The TDC Accident

Song: Rewrite The Stars from The Greatest Showman

Notes: o3o

The twelve-year-old boy sat on the porch steps of their new house, taking a deep breath of the west coast air. The house was still stuffy, boxes lining the floors to the ceiling and making it hard to maneuver. The sun was barely beginning to set, making the sky a a swirl of pinks, oranges and blues with specks of white clouds here and there. The chocolate-haired male could hear his older sister and parents moving about inside, relishing in a short moment away to breathe the fresh air.

The move was stressful and he didn’t know what the future would hold for him. It was nice to get away from the confinement of the unpacked home for a few minutes.

“Hey,” the Jersey boy heard, the soft crunch of wet grass making his head turn. You were stood before him, rolling back and forth on the balls of your feet with your hands hidden behind your back. Your hair was braided to stay out of your face. The boy’s hazel eyes skimmed your form quickly, noting the denim shorts with stars on your legs and the worn Spiderman shirt you swam in without a care for your appearance. You looked comfortable and that made him smile slightly with a light blush spreading across his cheeks.

“Hi,” he said shyly. The east coast preteen was always awkward, especially with first encounters.

“Sorry. I live next door with my mom and sister. My mom asked me to bring these over,” you said, revealing the plate of chocolate chip cookies you had behind your back. “We made them earlier knowing you were moving in today!”

“Oh. That’s so sweet. You really didn’t have to. But, thank you,” he said, standing to take the plate. Your arms fell to your side, Dylan holding the sweet treats in one hand. He bit his lip softly before extending his free hand to you. “I’m Dylan, by the way. Dylan O’Brien.”

You smiled, taking his hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Dylan. I’m Y/N.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” he hummed happily, glancing to his bouncing feet. “I um… I love your shirt. Spiderman is the best, isn’t he?”

“He really is!” you mused, pulling at the shirt to show it off more. “I got it when the movie first came out last year.”

“That’s awesome,” Dylan smiled.

“Hey,” you started. Dylan’s eyes met yours, seeing the glimmer in your orbs. “Seriously, welcome to Hermosa Beach. I hope you like it here.”

“I think I will love it,” he said without realizing it. You smiled, the curl of your lips making his soft pink ones perk up.

“You know, with you being new and all, you need a friend. We can’t let you deal with things alone and since I am the first person to meet you,” you chimed. “You are my new best friend!”

Dylan chuckled at the declaration, nodding. “I would actually like that. I can’t say no to friendship.” You grinned, tilting your head to the side in delight.

“I think this is the start of a beautiful friendship, Dyl.”

♪You know I want you/ It's not a secret I try to hide/ I know you want me/ So don't keep saying our hands are tied/ You claim it's not in the cards/ Fate is pulling you miles away/ And out of reach from me/ But you're here in my heart/ So who can stop me if I decide/ That you're my destiny?♪

The door of the apartment opened, Dylan rolling his suitcase into the hallway. His pillow that was always carried with him when he traveled was promptly placed on top of the rectangular luggage, the ends of the blue sheet draping over his bag. His backpack was dropped with a clunk in the corner while he kicked lazily at the door. He placed his keys in the dish on the table to his right, kicking off his shoes. The door clicked shut behind him with more more nudge of a socked foot, the tired man trudging forward, suitcase left forgotten by the door. He stopped at the entrance to the kitchen, leaning on the door frame to watch your smaller form dancing to a One Direction song he adored. A pot boiled on the stove with a box of Kraft Mac and Cheese beside it. You wore one of his old Mets shirts and some short pajama bottoms, uncaring that you looked ridiculous at the moment.

The sight made Dylan’s heart lift, thudding unevenly.

You spun on your heel, jumping with a squeak when you saw the man in your kitchen. The brunette chuckled, moving to sit at the dining table. You feigned relief, placing a hand to your chest. “You scared the pants off of me, O’Brien!” You scolded, turning down the music.

“Sorry. Thought i’d just let myself in,” he laughed.

“Why did I decide to give you a key to my apartment again?” You pondered rhetorically, turning to the creamy pasta you were making.

“Because you love me,” he joked. “Why are you making mac and cheese at midnight?”

“I was hungry. So sue me, bitch,” you giggled. “You want some?”

“You know I do,” Dylan laughed.

You moved to grab the bowls, standing on your toes in an attempt to reach them. Dylan rolled his eyes when you failed, moving to stand behind you. He grabbed them with ease, placing them on the counter. A grunt of annoyance left your lips, turning to lean on the counter, Dylan still by your side.

“Don’t get me wrong, Dyl. I love seeing you, though not really at midnight. But, what are you doing here?”

“Well, I just got back filming-”

“I know,” you cut him off. “You told me you were coming home today, but I didn’t expect you to stop by till tomorrow. I just figured…”

“Figured what?” he asked.

You moved to finish the food, leaving Dylan to lean against the counter alone. “Well, I just figured the first person you would go see would be your girlfriend, Dyl. You and Britt haven’t been together for a while. I thought you’d see Britt once you got home, late or not, stead of sitting in my kitchen eating cheese.” You got no response. When you turned, he had a slight sour look on his face. “Oh no. You’re making a face.”

“I am not,” he protested.

“Dylan, I have known you for over ten years! I know when you are making a face!”

“I’m not making a face!”

“Yes, you are!” You growled, dropping the wooden spoon and going to pinch his cheeks. He grimaced in slight pain, trying to swat at your hands. “No! Spill already, you turd!”

“I’m not making a face!”

“Dylan!”

“Fine, fine!” he yelped. The man rubbed his cheeks when you released them, mumbling indecent things under his breath. His nose flared with his heavy breathing, a hand ruffling his locks slightly. “Britt and I broke up.”

“What?!” You screeched. Dylan winced at the noise, covering his ears. “Sorry. I wasn’t expecting that. That was the last thing I expected to hear from your mouth. You guys were so cute and happy.”

“Yeah…” He murmured.

“I’m so sorry to hear that, Dyl,” you frowned. “Three years isn’t easy to just push away.”

The man shrugged, licking his lips slowly. “It’s fine. It was a clean break luckily. When she came to visit while I was filming Deepwater in Louisiana, we had a long talk about it all and she mentioned how she has been developing feelings for this guy she’s going to be working with on this movie called A Dog’s Purpose. They’ve been spending a lot of time together and I’m happy for her. She agreed that the passion wasn’t there anymore. There hasn’t been any real passion for a while. I think we were together for the sake of being together. So, here we are now.”

Your face contorted into one of confusion. Your brow had knit and your forehead wrinkled together, eyes crossing to narrow in on him. His hazel eyes were focused on the ground, avoiding your gaze. But, he could feel it piercing the side of his head. It was obvious you weren’t fully understanding. “I don’t get it,” you voiced. “Why wasn’t the passion there anymore?”

Dylan pursed his lips. You sighed, turning to the food. Before the bowls could be filled, heat met your side. A large, muscled body stood beside you, the subtle scent of the Calvin Klein cologne infiltrating your senses. You glanced up at your best friend, noting the glint in his eyes of unexplainable emotion. Biting at your lip, you waited for him to speak.

“You already know why,” he whispered, your ears barely able to catch his quiet words. A shiver ran up your spine when his fingers skimmed across your arms, feeling the goosebumps that formed. “Don’t give me that confused look, Y/N.”

You didn’t have to respond. You knew what he was implying.

A long, long time ago, there was a possibility for you and Dylan to become an item. The Jersey boy you befriended at the tender age of twelve made it obvious that he had a crush on you. He told you flat out that he did. When you were perched on your bed one night, Dylan didn’t hesitate on spilling the crush he held for years in order to ask you to prom your senior year.

And naturally, you did accept his proposal, taking his hand and intertwining your fingers together. By the end of the prom night, you were spilling your own feelings for him, confessing to the crush you had since you started high school.

Unfortunately, you weren’t given much of an opportunity to pursue a relationship. Dylan was cast in the MTV series Teen Wolf that was filming in Atlanta. After a long, hard talk, you had agreed to letting things go, knowing that trying to maintain a relationship long distance would difficult. It wasn’t easy by any means, your heart crumbling from the tears your shed together. You knew it hurt him too because all he wanted was to be by your side.

When Dylan called and said he was dating Britt years ago, you supported him. You figured that he was finally moving on, getting past the high school feelings he once held for you. That was ok though. He was a big boy. He was an adult and could feel whatever he wanted for someone. He could date who he wished. But, your feelings never left. The entire time he was way filming, growing into an even more handsome young man than he was when he graduated high school, your crush on him remained. When he was off the market, you wished you could be with him. They grew like a fungus inside you, thin vines wrapping around your heart to hold it tight in his embrace. But, no matter what, you would be by his side, cheering him on. And maybe, just maybe, he would be yours one day. If not, you would move on.

You just wanted him in your life. He meant the world to you.

“Oh,” you mumbled, spooning the food into the bowls. Dylan silently took his from your hands, both of you moving to sit at the table with drinks in hand - Dr. Pepper for you and Root Beer for him. Sitting across from one another, the only thing that could be heard was the clink of the spoons hitting the bowls, cans of soda popping open to be sipped with occasional slurps. The tension was palpable, neither of you knowing what to say immediately.

The bowl across from you was pushed away, Dylan leaning on the table. He massaged his jaw before speaking up. “Can I take you out sometime?”

Your spoon fell with a clatter, your eyes wide at him. “W-what?”

“Sorry. That was rude of me,” he grumbled. He tousled his hair more until it was sticking upright. “I… God, this was easier in my head.”

“Just say it, Dyl,” you told him hesitantly. “You can say anything to me. You know that.”

“I know. I just…” he paused. “I’m nervous.”

“I can tell,” you joked, making him smile.

He took a deep breath, shoulders rising and falling. “I-I want to take you on a date. And I know it sounds crazy, Y/N. But that crush from years ago? It never left. And, now that I’m not with Britt, I’m ready to… to try and make things work between us. I’ve waited for so long to ask you out. To date you. To do anything with you that could let me be with you in ways I’ve only dreamt of. I know it’s been a long time and we didn’t get to really embrace those feelings before, but now we can if you still want to try. Teen Wolf is filming in LA now, so I will only be gone for filming. We don’t have the same problems as before. I’m here to stay and I want to take you out to show you that we can work.”

Pushing your own bowl away, you leaned forward on the table, biting at your nail. Your eyes didn’t leave the face of your crush, tracing patterns along his speckled cheeks as your thought to yourself. It wasn’t a question that Dylan was, in deed, popular. He was the complete package: smart, funny, attractive, and the most genuine personality there was. He was the most caring person you would ever meet. It was no wonder that his was a breakout star once he started acting, especially with the ladies. The second Stiles Stilinski appeared on the screen upside down from the rooftop, he had won the hearts of many.

Over the years, he had become, in simple terms, a chick magnet. Despite being openly taken and in a relationship, girls swooned over the large, brown doe eyes and charming lopsided smile. They were ready to drop their panties when he let out his normal little laughs that made your heart beat faster and the hand his large, veiny hand would run through the luscious locks on his head. Millions of people proclaimed their love for the man across from you, the same man you grew up with and admired for so long.

You saw the pleading gaze in his eyes, hope and worry painting together in the hazel irises. His body bounced, leading you to believe his knee was jumping up and down anxiously. Slender fingers played together, his lips pursed together tightly as he waited. The look of longing made your heart beat rapidly. His body had sunk into the chair, his biceps bulging from under his loose black shirt. Your bottom lip was tugged between your teeth, your eyes darting away to avoid his look.

“I don’t know, Dyl,” you started hesitantly. “You’re just a wee bit famous, handsome. Your fans…”

“What about them?” he snapped sharply before relaxing. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” you sighed. “Just, they like you so much, Dyl. They’re not always… supportive of your relationships. They love you so much, but they can be possessive. Britt got a lot of bad rap for being your girlfriend. How do you think they will respond with me? I’m just the girl you grew up with. I don’t want to be ostracized for liking you. I… I don’t want them to hate me because of this.”

“It doesn’t matter, Y/N,” he lowly stated. The squeak of the chair against the tile creaked through the cold apartment air, the light patter of footsteps inching towards you. You yelped in surprise when the chair you were in was forcibly turned, the actor crouching to the ground in front of you. His larger hands took yours, warmth radiated from his palms up your skin. Yet, you felt chills, dots poking from your arms. His thumbs smoothed over the tops of your hands, bringing them up to his lips so he could kiss your knuckles.

“Dyl…”

“I like you, Y/N. A lot. I always have and you know this. I want you. I need you. I’m not doing anything to hide my feelings from you or anyone. I’d be surprised if everyone didn’t know how much I liked you. If I know you the way I think I do, you want me too. Before I became an actor, you liked me back. And I’m willing to bet that if my feelings never went away, yours didn’t either.

“So, don’t give me this bullshit that the fans won’t accept you. If they are true fans of mine, they will accept my happiness. No one makes me happier than you do. You bring out the best in me. I can’t imagine someone more perfect than you to be by my side. I want to kiss you. I want to hug you in more than a friend way. I want to go out and hold your hand while we walk. I want to take you out on dates. I have told you for so long how I’ve felt and now, nothing is going to stop me from choosing the girl of my dreams. I was stupid to let you go once and I’m not letting it happen again.

“It doesn’t matter if I’m famous, cupcake.” You smiled at the nickname, making him smile slightly in return. “Fame doesn’t define me. It doesn’t define you. I am still the same Dyldo you have known for over ten years. No amount of fame can change that. My fans aren’t going to change my mind about you. No one can stop me if I decide I like you. And, they sure as hell can’t keep me from saying this. I like you, Y/N, a hell of a lot and I want to be your boyfriend. But, until you are ready, I will settle on dates. We will go at your pace.

“But, if you don’t like me anymore and I’m completely wrong, I respect that. I won’t push you. You can tell me that I need to shut up and get out if that’s what you want. But, I’m begging, cupcake. Please, please, let me take you on one date. I will grovel at your feet. I will draw you a hot bath for the next month. I will buy you your favorite smoothie from Jamba Juice. I will buy us a pizza and we can watch whatever movie you want. Just, please, let me take you out.”

A dead silence came from his passionate speech. His eyes bore into you, trying to read the expression on your face. His palms were sweating and his mouth felt dry. It felt impossible, a heavy pit sitting in his stomach. His breath hitched, however, when you leaned forward, resting your forehead to his. Your lips were near his, a space keeping them apart like an invisible wall. His breath his your face, warming it until your cheeks were read. Fingers laced together, the intimacy of the moment growing more vibrant. Your eyes closed, relishing in the bubble that eclipsed your bodies and souls.

“Alright,” you whispered.

“Alright?” He asked, not daring to look.

“Dylan, I like you. You’re not going crazy. My feelings for you never left. And yes, I’m scared. I’m afraid of what people will think. It’s easy to say it’s just me and you, but I don’t want people to hate me because of this.” Your eyes fluttered open, the tickle of your eyelashes on his skin making his open in return. “But, I want to try.”

“So, what does this mean?”

You laughed shaking your head. “Sometimes, I wonder what goes on in that head of yours.”

“That’s just mean,” he teased.

“It means yes. You can take me on a date.”

“Seriously?” He asked, backing away to see you nod fully. His lips curled into a deep grin, the man launching forward to lock you in a tight embrace, his head burrowed in your chest. Your face flared, but you didn’t push him away. “You won’t regret this! I promise. It will be the best date ever.”

“It better be,” you teased. Wiggling from his grip, you placed the bowls in the sink. “Now, I’m assuming you are staying the night since it’s late and you just got home from a flight.”

The man stood from the ground, scratching the back of his head sheepishly. The single action made his shirt ride up to show the dark happy trail of hair along his toned stomach and the v-lines that were prominently sunk into his hips and displayed from the low hung gray sweatpants. He attempted to muffle a yawn, failing miserably. A yeti-esque growl escaped his throat, mouth parted in a large O shape. His teeth twinkle brightly with a lazy smile.

“I guess I should stay,” he murmured, words beginning to slur. The exhaustion was hitting him like a hammer. His arms wrapped around your waist, burying into your neck. “Can we cuddle?”

You blushed, but nodded with a giggle. “Of course.” You always cuddled together, even when you weren’t together. It was just a perk of being long time friends with the O’Brien male. “Let’s go grab your pillow and get some well deserved sleep.”

“Alright,” he yawned again, reluctantly moving forward when you did. He was snoring before he hit the bed, face swallowed by the blue linen he carried with him on every trip. Luckily, he had managed to strip from his shirt before he collapsed, the cotton still hanging from his fingers on the hand that dangled over the side of the bed. You shook your head at him, tossing it aside. The lights clicked off quietly, your body curling into his back after the blankets were tugged up to your chin.

“Goodnight, Dyl.”

He was gone when you woke up, a note on the dining room table with a vase full of red roses. You sat down at the table, stroking the petals, feeling the silky texture they offered. The note made you smile, tucking your hair back.

Hey beautiful. Thank you for accepting. You have no idea how excited I am. I hope it’s not too soon, but I wanted to take you out tonight. Seven pm, sharp! I will be there to pick you up. Dress comfy, casual and cute, even though you are always adorable. I will see you see, cupcake. <3

The day flew by after that. At seven, you were slipping out the front door, locking it before hurrying to Dylan’s waiting car. He was playing your favorite song when you slid inside, buckling your seatbelt. His hand took yours, fingers linking together and resting on the center console. The man wouldn’t spill where you were going or what you were doing, making you wonder what he was planning.

Mid Los Angeles came into view, the lights glimmering around you. The streets were flooded with people taking pictures and pointing at the sites to be seen. You were nervous going into a large crowd like this. It was easier to be seen and potentially interrupted while you were out trying to enjoy a date. Dylan dismissed the suspicious glance sent his way, his eyes stuck on the road. His grin made you wonder more, trying to discern what he was planning.

The car came to a stop outside Grand Park, the engine humming to a quiet stop. You blinked at your surroundings, hearing Dylan’s door open and close. The man jogged around the car to your side, opening the door and holding a hand out for you. You laughed, taking his hand, allowing him to gently pull you out. The beep of the alarm floated around you, Dylan’s hand on the small of your back as you walked into the nearly empty park. Your bodies remained close together, the actor leading you to some unknown destination.

“What we we doing at a park?” you asked, Dylan smiling wider. “Come on, Dyl! Spill!”

“You know, a long time ago, you told me that you thought picnics in the park were super romantic. So, I worked my ass off all day to put together the perfect picnic for you. Posey was kind enough to set it up while I went to get you.”

Your mouth parted to answer, no words coming out. You stopped walking, seeing the cliche checkered blanket with a picnic basket on top of it. A small stool was set up next to it, a few candles lit and flickering in the slight breeze. A speaker was set in the grass, Dylan tinkering with his phone to play a sweet ballad to add to the atmosphere. He spun to face you, allowing you to take in his full appearance. Dark jeans and a blue button up that was tucked neatly into his pants. He didn’t detour from his natural Adidas and his hair was partially spiked up in a cute quiff.

“Milady,” he called to break you from your trance, holding out a hand to you. A giggle left your lips, taking his hand. You planted yourselves on the blanket, Dylan pulling out some simple sandwiches and bags of chips.

The meal was simple, but fun. You shared the chips, feeding them to each other. Dylan was sprawled on his side, resting on his elbow, while you leaned back against him. His free hand roamed your back, soothing you. At one point, your hand found his, hands entwined together. You shared multiple longing looks, sinking into his touch when he would push back your hair. Hearts hammered against your chests, smiles showing off the joy you felt. You were content, not once regretting the decision to accept his proposal.

If anything, you were falling more for the man because he never failed to make you happy. He put you first and did everything in his power to make you smile. You didn’t deserve his kind heart, but you weren’t going to let him go because he made you feel complete.

And Dylan? Well, he was thunderstruck by your beauty and laugh, the happy flutter of butterflies making his blood pump yet make his heart stop. He was sure of his feelings.

When a new slow song started, he pulled you up, ignoring your laughs when he made you dance. His hands rested on your waist, your arms slung around his neck as you swayed. The skirt of your summer dress flowed with every step you took, each beat of the song spiking your infatuation with the man. He stared down at you lovingly, eyes large and speckled cheeks hurting from the countless smiles. His touch burned - in a good way - that left you smoldering, wanting more. In the end, your head was resting on his chest, his chin resting on the top of your head.

The candles were blown out and things were thrown into the empty picnic basket. With a hand on your back once more, you walked around the park for a bit, enjoying the sights from the summer festival that was being held during the day. Your head leaned on his shoulder the entire time, Dylan giving gentle squeezes to your side. The hustle and bustle of the city seemed quiet because it was all about you and Dylan.

The date didn’t end there. Dylan took the time to drive you out to Hermosa Beach, the home you grew up in. The beach was lifeless. The waves lapped at the sand, glowing from the full moon in the sky. The stars twinkled in the dark sky, smiling down at you. Kicking off your shoes, you made your way down to the shoreline, letting the foam wash around your ankles. The sand crabs tickled at your feet, trying to escape to find a new home that wasn’t under the weight of your body

His arms wrapped around your waist, not caring that his jeans were getting wet when the ocean attacked. You relaxed in his grip, resting your hands over his on your stomach. His chin sat on your shoulder, wafting the smell of the salt water and your strawberry shampoo. Neither of you had to speak. You just enjoyed the moment before continuing on.

You walked up and down the beach, the backs of your hands brushing occasionally. It took a bit before he dared to flex his fingers out, brushing them more. He glanced over at you and you looked back at him, trying to let him take the leap without needing to ask permission. Softly, his hand slid into yours, fingers tangling together one by one. Your arms rubbed against one another, keeping close as you waded through the shallow waters together, holding hands for the rest of the night.

You were on cloud nine now, wishing for a second this moment would never end.

The clock ticked on, nearly one in the morning before you were being walked to your door. Dylan, being the gentleman he was, insisted he make sure you got in safely. When the door came into sight, you turned to him, twirling some hair around your fingers.

“This really was the best date, Dyl,” you told him, giving a bright smile.

“Yeah,” he agreed, taking your hand in his. “I can’t recall a better date honestly.”

“Same.”

He rubbed his lips together, wetting them with his tongue. “Maybe we can do this again. I mean, if you’d like that.”

“I would love a second date with you, Dylan,” you whispered.

He smiled before taking a dive, leaning in to plant his lips to yours. You swore the fireworks were erupting loudly around you, bound to wake the neighbors from the nonexistent explosions. The touch was tender, his pink lips perfectly soft against yours. His lips enveloped yours, his head tilting to the side to give him better room to kiss at you. Short lived, he pulled away with a subtle smack, tucking your hair back like he always did. Your eyes stayed shut, lips still puckered from the surprise connection.

“Goodnight,” he mutters just loud enough for you to hear.

His touch vanished, the man gone from the hall before your eyes could open. It was almost as if everything was an illusion, Dylan being nothing more than a figment of your imagination. But the tingle on your lis ensured you of the truth. With an everlasting grin on your face, you slipped into your apartment, pressing your back to the door. Your face hid in your hands, happy squeals filling the hallway.

There was a bounce in your step while getting ready for bed, curling into your blankets happily. Your face brightened at the text from Dylan on your screen, his ugly mug in his contact picture winking at you.

[Dyldo: Sleep tight, beautiful. I look forward to seeing you tomorrow.]

You sent him a quick goodnight before turning to your social media.

That’s when your mood dimmed.

Pictures of your date were out on twitter, news articles already popping up questioning what was going on. Dylan hadn’t formally announced his break up, but that wasn’t the only issue going on. The pictures showed your dance in the park, the picnic your shared, Dylan’s hand on your back and your hands linked while walking down the beach. In some pictures, you could make out the loving expressions you held for one another. All of the news articles questioned who you were and what you were doing with him.

The comments made bile rise in your throat. You were ready to puke while reading them. Most were negative. People were insistent on claiming them as his own while others were pushing for answers, typing in all caps to express their disconcert. You couldn’t count how many people said you didn’t look good together, saying how Dylan could do better. There were the normal ‘I love you’s’ that floated around, but your heart sunk into a vat of acid when you saw the comments about you.

You could feel his millions of fans scorning you, judging you based on looks or biased assumptions. Comment after comment, they called you names and picked on every aspect of you. They said how you should leave Dylan alone.

Tears slid down your cheeks as your fell asleep, phone laid on the bed by your side. The one comment that broke your heart the most shone onto the roof, the letters bolded and imprinted into your mind.

SLUT

♪What if we rewrite the stars?/ Say you were made to be mine/ Nothing could keep us apart/ You'd be the one I was meant to find/ It's up to you, and it's up to me/ No one can say what we get to be/ So why don't we rewrite the stars?/ Maybe the world could be ours/ Tonight♪

♪You think it's easy/ You think I don't want to run to you/ But there are mountains/ And there are doors that we can't walk through/ I know you're wondering why/ Because we're able to be/ Just you and me/ Within these walls/ But when we go outside/ You're going to wake up and see that it was hopeless after all♪

You did everything you could to ignore the things people said. The thing that mattered was you and your feelings for Dylan.

Months passed and all you did was spend time with Dylan while he was out of work. And times were beyond exceptional. They were one of a kind and you didn’t want to trade them for anything. Whenever you were together, you mood lifted, finding new adventures to go on with the man. And every day that passed, you feel more and more in love with him. Things were slow to develop, but not slow enough to make you lose interest.

He hadn’t officially asked you out, but it felt like you were a couple. He would text you good morning and good night, buy you little gifts when you least expected it, and make you meals. Well, you often made the meals together. The kissing increased since he kissed you goodnight, the feeling of his lips on yours like an addicting drug. You couldn’t get enough of them, finding yourself locked in a heated make out session on the couch or in his bed.

The bedroom was even more heated than the kisses you shared. Despite the lack of a formal title overhanging your relationship, it didn’t stop you from exploring the deeper side of things. And boy, did he make you feel good. Occasionally, when you would relax in bed together under the covers, his hand would sneak into your shorts, toying with your wet core as he kissed you passionately. Other times, your hand would slither into his sweatpants, stroking his hardened length. Hands would swap for mouths once in a while, pleasing the opposite party with the flick of a tongue, but things never went beyond that.

Dylan knew about the hate you were facing from his fans, but he chose to ignore it. He constantly told you to ignore it as well since. ‘It’s not their choice, it’s ours,’ and ‘It’s our relationship. I choose to be with you’ is what he told you day after day. He offered to make a post about it on his Twitter, but you declined, not wanting to make things worse. If people read that, they would only come after you harder, claiming you made him post that.

He held true to his word that he would wait until you were ready to take things further, but he was blatantly obvious that he liked you way beyond a natural level. He wanted to make things work desperately, and you were willing to try equally as hard. Fighting to overlook the comments people made, you focused on him.

You liked him a hell of a lot.

You shut Dylan’s door behind you, hanging up your jacket and kicking off your boots. Skipping towards the kitchen, you found Dylan prepping the chicken parm you were going to make together. Because of the constant attention that surfaced when you were found out together, on a date or otherwise, you agreed to have dates in together, spending time cooking and watching movies. Dylan only wanted your comfort, so he tried to do anything to make sure you were happy.

“Hey, baby,” he hummed, hugging you into his side when you skid to a stop. You shared a brief kiss, the connection lasting longer than you thought would happen. “Ready for a delicious dinner?”

“Of course,” you grinned. “I love your mom’s chicken parm.”

“Her recipe is the best.”

“And she taught you well,” you hummed, pecking his lips a couple times. He whined when you backed away.

“You’re mean,” he cried, watching you hover at the sink to wash your hands. He grabbed his classic ‘Kiss the Cook’ apron you got him as a joke when you started cooking together after leaving high school, tossing it over his head. “You can’t just kiss me like that.”

“Why not?” you teased, tying the apron for him. Once perfectly knotted with a bow, he turned in your grasp, tugging you closer by the waist.

“Because it only makes me want to kiss you more,” he whispered. His eyes ran up and down your body, biting at his lip. “You’re beautiful. I hope you know that. You drive me insane.”

“And you’re handsome,” you told him, cupping his face.

You brought his face to yours, kissing him again. This time, it was longer and sweeter, your body melting into his chest. His arms hugged you close, moving his lips against yours skillfully. They dragged downwards, sending shivers up your spine. The bliss of his lips on yours made your fingers curl against his stubbled chin, letting the prickles tickle the tips.Your noses bumped slightly, the passion hovering around you.

He backed away, letting out a shallow breath. “You know, we can just skip making dinner and continue this,” he pushed playfully.

You laughed, shaking your head. “No. I have been looking forward to this all day so I haven’t exactly eaten. Unless you want me to drop kick you, I suggest we cook.”

“You seriously fasted just for my mom’s chicken parm recipe?” he teased.

“Duh.”

“God, you’re so cute,” he laughed, pecking your lips.

The kitchen turned into a natural disaster, a tornado of flour, mozzarella cheese and tomato sauce passing through. You got a face full of flour thanks to Dylan while breading the chicken cutlets, your skin a powder white from the cloudy burst. Your response was to toss a handful of cheese at him, the man trying to catch as much as possible in his mouth when you did. From your distraction, you didn’t realize the sauce was boiling, a pop of red sauce hitting his walls. In the end, you fell over laughing, cleaning while the food finished.

After the meal was finished and the dishes were cleaned, you had cuddled on the couch to watch Liar Liar, one of Dylan’s favorite movies. You snuggled into his chest, his arms wrapped around you with a blanket covering your tangled legs. Though, the film was quickly forgotten. Before Fetcher could skip out on his son’s birthday party, you turned to glance at the man playing with your hair, pressing your lips to his after a second.

That was how you found yourself in a heated make out session with your crush. His head was perfectly tilted to cover your lips completely while your hands slid up his neck and tangled in his silky hair. The kisses were fast paced and sloppy, but full of emotion. They were all open-mouth, tongues sinfully and willfully rubbing against one another in a swirl of saliva and bliss. Your leg was draped over his lap when your body had turned towards him. His hand running up and down your leg, drawing circles to your outer thigh. Your eyes were closed, relishing in the way his lavished your lips. With his other arm around your shoulders, he was able to keep you closer than ever, the kiss never ending.

The hand on your thigh dared to move up a bit further, running over your behind that had lifted off of the couch. The shock of it made you shiver, a moan lost in his mouth. Dylan moaned in return, giving it a firm squeeze before daring to move a tad bit further. But, the squeeze made you stop. Flashes of criticizing words you had been haunted by for months appeared in the darkness of your closed eyelids, the murmurs of his fans when you were out and about ringing in your ears. Their glares pierced your soul, being the final straw to make you break the kiss.

“What’s wrong?” Dylan asked huskily, trying to catching his breath. He frowned at the loss of warmth when you crawled off of him, moving away from the couch. He blinked multiple times, trying to clear the spotted vision that came from his arousal, his hand moving to adjust his erection in his sweats. His hazel eyes followed you as you paced his living room, a hand running through your hair. “Baby, what’s wrong?”

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” came your harsh words. Dylan felt his heart physically plummet at your words, his eyes narrowing on your form.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” He asked harder than he meant to, only making you whimper at him.

“It’s just…”

“Babe, we’ve been like this for months now. You’ve never had an issue when I’ve kissed you before,” Dylan told with a hard tone. “So, why now are you doubting it? Has this just been a game to you? Because I sure as hell like you a lot and I’ve been waiting for you to be ready for us to be official. I haven’t pushed because I want you to be comfortable with the idea of us.”

“Dyl…”

“Just tell me why, Y/N,” he pushed. “Why don’t you want to be with me? Are you playing with my emotions? Because I know that’s not you. I’m so freaking sure you like me back and now I’m really confused because things have been so great. I love kissing you and you come on so strong. You kiss me as much as I kiss you.” He ruffled his hair with a loud, distressed groan that filled the apartment. The noise made you cringe, hearing his voice strain from the rippling yell. “I don’t get it. Why?”

“We can’t do this,” you repeated, trying to be firm. “They just… they don’t want this.”

“They?” he asked. “Are you talking about my fans?”

“Yes!”

“Babe, are you still letting their words get to you?” he asked sadly. Dylan moved from the couch, pulling you into his arms. “Remember, they don’t define our relationship. It’s our choice if we want to be together. So, why are you letting their words get to you.”

“I’m scared,” you sniffled. “I don’t want to be hated for loving you.”

Dylan’s heart dropped at the classic ‘L’ word, rubbing his lips together. “They won’t,” he whispered.

“Yes, they will!” You yelled louder than you wanted to.

“Why do you care what they think?” he pushed.

“They’re your fans, Dyl. You’re famous. You’re talented. People look up to you and when they see you with me…” You stopped, shaking your head. “You’ve never had someone look at you the way they look at me. They hate it, Dyl.”

“So what?” He asked again. “It doesn’t matter what they want. It’s about what I want. What we want.”

“You think it’s so easy, Dylan!” You cried, banging on his chest slightly. "It's easy to be like this in the confines of your house, Dyl. But out there, I'm a nobody compared to you.”

“So are they!” He yelled. “Y/N, they are just fans of mine. They are selfish, alright? People are delusional all of the time. All they ever say is how they love me. All they do is ask for pictures and autographs without the simplest of introductions. But you, you’re not like that. You are my best friend. You are the girl I have feelings for. You are the girl I want to date. You are the girl I want to be with for the rest of my life for fuck’s sake!”

“Dylan, you just don’t get it,” you cried. “The way they would look at us. The way everyone would look at us. I’m scared to be with you because they don’t want us to be together. I don’t want to live the rest of my life being the girl that is with Dylan O’Brien that doesn’t deserve it. They should be happy about this, but they aren’t. When it’s just us, it’s perfect. You make me so happy, I can’t believe how much my cheeks hurt when I go to sleep at night. But when we go outside, you’ll realize how worthless this is. How worthless I am. I don’t want to hinder you or your career because your fans want to think we aren’t right for each other.”

“Babe, we can make this work,” he tried to say, only getting pushed away.

“Just don’t, Dyl,” you cried. Dylan’s heart cracked at the sight of your tears running down your cheeks, hands shaking when he took a step forward to wipe them away. “Please, just don’t.”

“Babe, it doesn’t have to be like this,” he whispered.

“We can’t be together. You’re an actor, Dylan. You will always be in the spotlight, no matter what you do or where you go. You have fans and I’m not going to ruin your career like this. This is your life and I hate to say it, but it’s not up to you. It’s not up to me. This isn’t possible when everyone tells us who we can be or who we can be with. I want to be with you, Dylan. I want to be with you so bad. But, I wasn’t the one you were meant to be with.”

“Please, don’t do this,” he whispered, voice cracking with the inevitable tears he was going to shed. “W-we can do something to make this work. If I want you and you want me, then it’s possible, Y/N. You can’t let them get to you. Just, please, don’t go.”

“I’m sorry, Dyl. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry I can’t be that perfect girl that everyone is happy you are with. I’m sorry I can’t make you happy. I’m sorry I’m not good enough.” You wiped at your tears, rushing to the door. “I’m sorry you had to fall for me.”

“Y/N, no. Wait, please. I-”

You slid on your shoes, the tears dripping off your chin when you turned back to him. “There is nothing that can change our fate, Dylan. They won’t accept us, so it’s better if I let you go before things get worse.”

You ran out the door with it slamming closed behind you before Dylan would move forward to stop you. Your figure was gone from his cloudy view, the tears no longer able to be stopped. His hand trembled before dropping from its outreached position, going limp at his side. It pained him to see you so distraught about this, holding back to appease everyone but yourself. He knew you were caring, but just once, he wanted you to be selfish. That compassion was causing you agony and all he wanted was for you to not worry about what everyone else thought.

It was supposed to be about you and him.

His words fell on deaf ears when he muttered the final words he wanted to express more than anything. “I love you, Y/N…”

♪No one can rewrite the stars/ How can you say you'll be mine?/ Everything keeps us apart/ And I'm not the one you were meant to find/ It's not up to you/ It's not up to me/ When everyone tells us what we can be/ How can we rewrite the stars?/ Say that the world can be ours/ Tonight♪

♪How do we rewrite the stars?/ Say you were made to be mine?/ Nothing can keep us apart/ 'Cause you are the one I was meant to find/ It's up to you/ And it's up to me/ No one can say what we get to be/ And why don't we rewrite the stars?/ Changing the world to be ours♪

It was early March in Los Angeles. The rain poured from the dark sky, the heavy drops pounding the ground in a steady beat. The pavement was blackened more than normal from the tears of the sky, people refusing to move about through the patter of droplets. Pellets tapped to your apartment windows, the splash of tired through the water outside somewhat sounding in your home. It poured much like your depressed emotions.

Another X over the day was placed in which you hadn’t seen nor spoke to Dylan. You avoided him like the plague. After your spat, you ignored his calls and refused to see him. And, it just broke your heart even more. Crying yourself to sleep every night was all you could do. Struggle with the feelings that would dissipate was what lumped in your gut. Wishing you could hear his voice whispering in your ear was what your dreamt about. Craving the feel of his arms around you was what you missed.

You were settled into bed, catching up on the latest episodes of some cooking show you loved, when you heard a knock at the door. The clock read some time after eleven, your eyes narrowing on it. “Who the fuck…?” You asked yourself. Who was knocking this late during a storm?

Moving to the door, you clicked on a light to see where you were going. Pushing up on your toes, you peered through the peephole at the late night visitor. You frowned, contemplating for a second that it was best to back away and ignore the person on the other side. But their second knock made you sigh. The lock clicked and the door cracked open to show Dylan’s form better. He was dripping wet, shivering slightly in the March chill. He stared down at his feet, Adidas squishing when he swapped his weight between feet. His hazel eyes looked void of emotion, the normal pop in his irises glazed over with sadness. His stubble had grown out more, framing his chiseled jawline that looked somewhat thinner than you were used to. He was paler, having lost the joy he normally had.

“Dylan,” you breathed. His eyes met yours, mouth opening to say nothing. He remained still, shaking from the wet clothes that clung to his toned body and muscles arms. “Why are you here? And, why are you all wet?”

“I just,” he started, teeth chattering slightly. He shook his head to clear his mind, water flying off the wet tips of his hair. “I had to clear things up. It’s been so long since I’ve seen you and talked to you. Ever since that night when we argued about everything, you haven’t answered my called and I haven’t seen you. I couldn’t leave things like this before I head to Vancouver.”

“Oh,” you whispered. He mentioned once that he was going to film The Death Cure, but you didn’t realize it was so close since you hadn’t talked to him since that night. “So, why are you all wet?”

“Well, I kind of drove over and um,” he breathed, rubbing his lips together. “I guess I hesitated. I had to contemplate what I was doing to say when I got up here. I figured if I didn’t already have some kind of speech ready that you would just shut me out again.”

“So you stood in the rain?” you asked.

Dylan smiled slightly, nodding. “I guess so,” he laughed before his face went back to being serious. “Listen. Everything that happened… I get it. I know being with me isn’t easy. The fame… it’s not easy to deal with and sometimes, I wish I didn’t have it. But, I can’t help that I like you. Most of all, I can’t help that you mean so much to me, friend or girlfriend or whatever. I didn’t want this to ruin our friendship, Y/N. I can’t lose my best friend. You mean too much to me to lose. I wish you wouldn’t worry about my fans, but I’m not here to talk about that. I came… I came to talk to you before I leave. I can’t work knowing we are upset like this. I want my girl back.”

You frowned at him. Your heart was pumping, staring at the solemn man. You liked this man so much and the fame made it impossible to be with him the way you wanted. But, he was still your friend and pushing him away was just doing more harm than good. He had come all this way before leaving for filming to amend things between you both because he, too, didn’t want to lose the friendship you held for so long.

“Come in please,” you told him, opening the door wider. He sent you a confused look. “You’re soaking wet, Dylan. You’re going to get sick if you don’t come in right now and get out of those wet clothes. We will run you a hot shower and we will dry the clothes.”

“Alright,” he mumbled, moving inside with you. The door was locked before you dragged him into the bathroom in your room, sitting him down on the toilet. You grabbed a towel from the rack, Dylan’s eyes following you. “Does this mean you forgive me?”

You sides, placing the towel on the counter. Your hand run through his wet hair, Dylan melting into your tender touch. “I wasn’t mad at you, Dyl,” you told him quietly. “I just…”

“I know,” he bemused sadly. “I get it’s hard. But it shouldn’t matter what people think. I wish you would accept that. They don’t define our relationship. We can make whatever we have work if we just try. No one can say what we are or what we have. It’s up to us what we want to be. But, if you aren’t comfortable, I get it. I just wish-”

“I know,” you sighed. “I know, Dyl. I wish too. I wish that we be together. I like you, Dylan. I always have and I always will. But,” you froze, shaking your head. “Can we not talk about this please?”

“Alright,” he agreed. The sadness was prominent in his voice. He took your hand, bringing it to his lips though, placing a light kiss to it. “I missed you, cupcake.”

“I missed you too, Dyldo,” you hummed, kissing his forehead.

His hand dropped, your hands moving to the bottom of his shirt. He didn’t fight it, lifting his arms so you could slowly pull the wet shirt over his head. When his head popped free from the opening, his hair bounced around happily. The cotton was carefully stripped off his arms, dropping in a wet clump beside the toilet. Your fingers ran down his shoulders and arms, across his chest. The way his muscles rippled made your fingers tingle, his arms tensing and releasing against the smooth touch. You silently admired how beautiful and handsome the man truly was, a picture of pure perfection sitting before you. You played with the hairs on his chest, resting your palm over his heart.

It was hammered against his ribs, skipping beats here and there.

He glanced up at you through his lashes, fluttering them occasionally. He took your hand from his chest, placing kisses to each of your fingertips before lacing your fingers together. You felt your stomach flutter anxiously, heart picking up speed like his. It was almost as if your argument never happened and you were reverting back to the romantic ways you shared before you left him alone. For a second, you though back to the times you shared and the happiness you felt when you were with him. But then, the reality of the situation poked its head out as a bitter reminder of what couldn’t be.

You pulled your hand back, backing towards the door. “I-I will go get you some clothes. Please, shower and get warm.”

You ran out before he could say anything, the door closing before you. You let out a shaky sigh, moving to grab some clothes from the drawer dedicated to him. Spare clothes were kept in case he would pass out in your bed, needing something to sleep in or wear to work the next day. Before returning, you sat on your bed with the clothes resting on your lap, folded neatly.

You thought back on his words, knowing how hard he was pushing to be with you; knowing how bad he wanted to be with you. You felt it too. You wanted nothing more than to call him your own. But the words people uttered behind your back kept you hesitant. You wanted nothing more than to be by his side but the fear made you tremble inside. Your eyes closed, seeing him behind them in all his glory. The image made your heart race, body craving more from him. You reminded yourself repeatedly that he was famous and the fans wouldn’t accept it, but he kept your spirits up, never pushing you to do more than you wanted. He hoped and prayed, sure, wishing you would accept him and only him, but he never wanted to lose you.

Was it truly that impossible to be with him? You started to wonder in that second.

Moving back to the bathroom, it was fogged up before you even slipped inside. Dylan’s figure could be made out behind the curtain, the shower running and falling over his body. The clothes were placed beside his towel, your backside leaning on the counter. You watched him move around, hearing the shampoo pop open so he could wash his hair. His shirtless torso came to mind again, your heartbeat picking up and your body beginning to burn. You wanted to run your fingers along it. Wishing he would run his along your body as well.

Is it impossible? You asked yourself, biting your lip. The pressure of his career and fandom weighed down heavily on you, the fear of acceptance like a cloud over your head. But the sunlight of his smile made you smile, the touch of his skin against yours intensifying the need to be with him. He was able to push away the fight and the anxiety, and you were reminded about how much he meant to you.

In a split decision, your clothes were shed, leaving you bare in the middle of the bathroom. You were scared that he was going to be alright with this and you were scared that this was the right decision. Everything was a whirl in your mind, everything around you not mattering when you pushed the curtain aside and stepped into the steaming hot shower with him. His back was to you, his face dripping with the water that showered over him. His head fell back to let the droplets slide across his skin, his perfectly round behind in plain sight. Your cheeks lit up, but you moved forward.

Your chest pressed to his back, your arms wrapping around his frame. Earning no verbal response, he took your hands in his, his head turning to the ground. You hid your face in his back, kissing it softly. Dylan was happy to feel you pressing into him, but he was confused. He knew where you sat with everything. He understood, despite how much he disagreed with it. And all he wanted was to be with you, no matter what. After everything that happened, the argument you had in his house, he wasn’t sure you would want to continue the potential relationship because of the things out of his control. He didn’t want the fans to make the choice, but they would always be something you would consider.

“What does this mean?” He asked quietly. His voice almost didn’t carry to your ears over the running shower, it was that low. Carefully, he turned in your grasp, his chest against yours. You looked up at him, seeing the whirl of emotions in his eyes. “What does this mean, Y/N?”

“I don’t know,” you told him truthfully. He nodded. You were scared; there was no changing that. His fans were part of him and they made things difficult with the way they acted. But, you liked this man. A lot. And you didn’t want to let them change that. “I like you Dylan. A lot. Like, I never thought I’d like you as much as I do now. You are my best friend and I want nothing more than you to be by my side forever. And you know that. But, it feels impossible.”

“It’s not impossible,” he whispered.

“Is it impossible?” you asked aloud. His hands cupped your cheeks while yours ran up and down his arms, letting the burn corrupt you. The fear was gone and replaced by him, the way he made you feel, and the love you felt for him. Everything felt impossible because of Dylan’s life because he seemed so out of reach. But, when it came to the two of you, none of that mattered. He was right there in your grasp, unmoving.

“Just say that it’s possible,” Dylan told you quietly.

With your face still in his large hands, he leaned down, placing a firmly soft kiss to your lips. It was sweet and screamed every emotion he felt. His lips enveloped yours, dragging down slowly. Your noses brushed and your foreheads collided tenderly. The kiss made your fingers curl into his arms, sinking into his hold completely.

And without hesitation, you returned the kiss.

Multiple sweet kisses were exchanged, the smack of lips on lps mixing with the rain of the shower. Some were open-mouth so his tongue could trace the innards of your mouth, running along your cheeks until he found the spots that made you moan, while others were just close lipped, smashing together like life depended on it. You were were clenched closed, enjoying the feeling of him in your arms.

His hands moved down from your face, skimming along your sides before cupping your ass instead. Your own hands smoothed against his chest, his pecs flexing under your palms. The kisses sped up slightly, not losing the sweetness that you enjoyed. His cock was twitching upright the more you kissed and pushed into him, trapped between your bodies. When his hands moved back up your body, swapping from your butt to your breasts with a squeeze, you moaned into him.

His hands fondled at your breasts, thumbs passing over your hardened nipples. The touch made your shiver, moaning more with each passing second. His touch wasn’t hard, making you uncomfortable. It was just right: careful and delicate, almost as if you would break if he did too much. He moaned into the kisses you shared, gripping at your soft mounds desperately. The plump mounds under his finger tips made his mouth water and his mind race with a wild imagination.

His lips separated from yours, kisses lining your jaw until he settled into your neck. His hands left your chest and slid between your bodies. You whimpered when his hand brushed your core, not pushing inside without permission. Always kind, that man, not wanting to push boundaries if you didn’t want it. A sharp intake of air was heard when you answered his plea with your inaudible answer. Your hand joined him, grasping his large shaft in your hand. You stroked it casually, rubbing at the tip that was wet with more than water. The grip you had on him only made him groan louder, finally slipping his fingers inside you.

Together, you pleased the other. His fingers gently thrust into your core, tips curling to claw laviously at your tender walls and sweet spot. Your hand stroked his length, tugging bits of skin over the head before it was released to return to its normal position. Your bodies were flushed against one another, your head resting on his shoulder while his was hidden in your neck, sucking at it until it was red and spotted. The shower rained over your forms, droplets sliding down your skin to make you slick against each other.

He pulled his hand out of you, licking the digits clean while you were whining at the loss of heat. Your hand was pried off of him, your whines only growing louder. With an arm wrapped around your back, you were dipped backwards, his lips on yours in a steamy embrace. On instinct, one of your arms wrapped itself around his neck to keep you from falling backwards. The other hand rested to his chest, only making the entire embrace more romantic. To feel his soft, wet skin rippling under your fingertips while his lips lavished yours in hot, steamy kisses where your tongues twisted and twirled together was nothing but a dream you had multiple times.

You mewled into the kiss when he lifted your leg up to wrap around his waist, his moist shaft rubbing along your core. You were hot and you were aching, walls tensing with anticipation. But naturally, he didn’t do anything until he pulled back, giving you the questioning stare in the sultry brown eyes on his head. He wasn’t one to thrust without making sure you were ok with it first. He wanted you to want is as much as he did.

With a nod, he straightened himself, keeping your leg upright around him and a hand on the small of your bac. You hugged him close, wincing but moaning when he slid in completely, hilt deep in the blink of an eye. He kissed the stray tears that fell, knowing you were in pain from the lack of sex you had in the past. He was larger than most guys too, so taking every inch of his thick cock wasn’t an easy feat. You said nothing, letting yourself get accustomed to his length before bucking forward as a way to get him to move.

He pulled back, pushing back in swiftly just before the tip escaped your grasp. The sudden thrust into you made your head fall back with a loud moan, a hand threaded through his hair to give it a yank. His cock was buried deep inside you, the angle allowing his long shaft to find your sweet spot. The head tapped at it every time he pulled back, pounding into you repeatedly. Wet hips clapped together, skin on skin colliding together in heated slaps. The pistoning of his cock made you moan his name, Dylan’s ears bleeding joy. He had waited to hear you moan his name for so long.

You were quivering in his hold. His powerful, quick thrusts made your head spin and your stomach clench in flutters. His kisses made you hot and your cheeks flush. Your lips were plump and swollen from the multiple kisses he left on them, your neck spotted with red blotches. The hot water the sprayed over your bodies, amplifying the feeling. The heat helped to stimulate your nerve endings, his thrusts ten times more effective than normal. His touch made you whimper for more, needing the constant affection he was giving you.

As soon as you felt your stomach beginning to clench and your toes started to curl, he stopped moving. You were left empty, Dylan pulling out completely and dropping your leg. When you backed away to give him a sour look, you saw him turn to turn off the water. The curtain was ripped back with a scrape of the hooks on the metal rod, your body lifted off of the floor. You squeaked, afraid for a second he would slip, but he managed to step out of the tub, moving your soaked bodies towards your room. The chill of your apartment hit your dripping forms, a shiver running up and down your spine. Goosebumps formed on your skin making you curl into the natural heat Dylan provided. He was always a space heater and now you were glad he kept you so close.

He managed to push the blankets down, dropping you on the bed so it squealed under your weight. He laid to your side, pulling the blankets to your chests. Laying on your sides, you faced each other. Your hand stroked his face, tracing shapes along the speckled constellations on his cheeks. Dylan pulled your leg over his waist, the tip of his cock gravitating to your still yearning pussy.

Slowly, you pulled him forward into a delicate kiss, your lips moving against each other perfectly. They molded together like two pieces of the same puzzle, smoothing together in a lapse of bliss. Your legs twisted together, the leg you had over his waist pulling him closer with a nudge. The tip of his cock poked at your core, finally easing in when you used a hand to give his perfect butt a shove. Moans were mixed in with the kisses, vibrating throats and making the kisses hotter than before.

The thrusts he did weren’t entirely hard or wild. They were just right for you: steady, smooth and loving. He didn’t need to spank your ass or talk dirty to make you wet, though deep inside, you wanted to hear him talk like that as he fucked you relentlessly. Right now, you were glad that he was there in your arms. The sweet kisses made his powerful thrusts explosive, the tip hitting your g-spot over and over again. The kisses never stopped, foreheads resting on one another while your lips slid in rhythm with your clapping hips.

Slowly, they grew sloppy, Dylan’s chest heaving heavier. His eyes squeezed shut, panting with the inevitable orgasm he was about to have. Your hand scraped at his back to keep from screaming out in pleasure, leaving red marks along his tensed shoulder blades. Your walls clung around him, knowing you were close to your end. With one last kiss, you both broke. Your juices splashed around him while his seed spurt out in strings of white. They mixed together in an array of juices, warming your insides completely. Your walls hugged his length, milking every last drop he had built up into your core. His thrusts slowed, lips lingering with hot breaths.

Dylan pulled out of you, his hazy eyes opening. He watched your orbs flutter open, staring longingly at him. He rolled to hover over you, a mixture of sweat and shower water covering his skin from the passionate sex you had with each other. Finger tips ran along his cheeks, pulling him into a rare kiss where you covered his lips. The short connection still managed to make your lips tingle when he pulled away. With a happy sigh, his head fell to your chest, listening to your heart pound against your rib cage. He felt your lips on his forehead, hugging you close.

Things seemed to be perfect. You had the man of your dreams in your arms after a wonderful round of sex - honestly, the best sex you ever had. Now, you were laying in your bed together, legs tangled together, your hand running through his hair. It was like you were made for each other. You were happy. You were content.

Then, the feeling vanished and you were cold inside. The short lived moment was ruined by the bitter reminder of who he was. He was an actor. He was famous. He was hot. And you weren’t right for him. He deserved someone that people would accept. He deserved someone that would make him happy. And he wasn’t meant to be with you. You weren’t going to be accepted. As much as you wanted it, you knew it was impossible. The things people said and the way people glared at you - it was impossible.

His smile fell when you pushed him off your chest. He sat up on his elbows, watching you rushed around to grab a pair a shorts and a baggy Mets hoodie you stole from Dylan’s closet months ago. His lips pursed together, seeing your hand run through your wet, knotted locks in dismay.

“Baby?” He asked lowly.

“We shouldn’t have done that,” you said quickly. You paced the length of your room, biting at your nail. “We shouldn’t have done that.”

“Are you serious?” He snapped angrily, falling back on the bed. His hands ran over his face, groaning loudly. “Are we really back on this? I thought we got passed this.”

“Oh, cut the shit, Dylan,” you grumbled.

“Babe, listen to yourself!” He yelled. “We just had sex. The best sex ever. And instead of cuddling, you are pushing me away. Again! I thought by this happening, you were ok with everything. It’s possible for us to happen, babe. But I don’t get why you keep pushing me away.”

“We’ve been over this.”

“Because of my fans?” he sneered. “Because of my fucking fans? Babe, I don’t give a shit what they think! I love you! I want to be with you! You are the one that makes me happy. God, I wish you wouldn’t fucking let them get inside your head. It doesn’t matter what they want. It doesn’t matter how many times they say ‘I love you Dylan’ or anything of the likes. I don’t want them and they can suck my fucking dick if they don’t like me being with you. Hell, I will quit acting if that means I can be with you!”

“But that’s what I don’t want, Dylan!” you cried. “You’re at your best when you are acting. It makes you happy and you are amazing. I’m not going to be the reason you stop. I’m not going to be the reason people dislike you. I’m not going to drag you down, Dylan! I don’t want to hurt you because I’m not accepted. You don’t know how it feels for them to look at you the way they do me. And I won’t let them do that to you as well.”

“Babe, it doesn’t matter. They will learn to accept you because you make me happy. That’s what matters!”

“This can’t happen, Dylan. If this keeps up, it’s just going to end badly,” you cried, tears in your eyes. You played with the ends of the sleeves on your hoodie, the cuffs covering half of your hands. “My hands are tied, Dyl. Your fans won’t accept a nobody like me with the likes of you. You are the most amazing man in the world. Smart, handsome, funny, kind. But, I can’t have you. We’re bound to break because of the lives we live. We weren’t meant to be together.”

“You don’t mean that,” came his cracked voice. “We can make it work.”

“I’m sorry, Dylan.”

“Is this really how this is going to end?” He asked, fighting back his tears. “I’m going to go off to film and this is how you’re going to leave it? It literally feels like you are breaking up with me. Please, tell me this isn’t how it ends.”

You stayed silent.

“Y/N, please,” he cried. “Please, don’t leave me like this. Please, Y/N. I can’t lose you. I just can’t. I need you.”

Without answering, you walked out of the room, heading out to the patio. The rainy air made you shudder, leaning back against the wall. You could hear Dylan’s movements inside, doors slamming hard enough to shake the walls. His words stung, the fact that he admitted to loving you the way he did making your heart completely crack.That made everything even harder.

When the front door slammed next, you peered over the edge of the balcony, spotting his retreating form running through the rain. His headlights came on and his black Charger backed out dangerously. Tires squealed against the wet pavement, water flying behind him. He drove from the lot, his car disappearing into the darkness.

You slid to the ground, finally letting your tears flow freely. Hugging your knees to your chest, your face buried in them, crying into the odd hours of the night for your lost love.It didn’t matter how cold you got from the moist air. Your soul was cold and your heart was ice, a crack ebbed in there for eternity.

♪You know I want you/ It's not a secret I try to hide/ But I can't have you/ We're bound to break and my hands are tied♪

It had been a long couple of weeks. People noted how pale you looked and how unhappy you seemed. Once Dylan left, nothing felt right with you. You were empty inside and out. He didn’t bother to call or text. And with him being out of town for filming, you missed seeing him. His words haunted you every night, making you wonder if it was all a mistake.

Had you been in the wrong to worry about others opinions of you? Had you pushed him away wrongly because of his fans - over something he didn’t have control over. He said over and over again how the only thing that mattered was you and him. Yet, you ignored him, telling him how impossible it was. He told you how he loved you and what did you do? Told him no. You told him that you couldn’t be with him because people didn’t accept you.

You hated the situation. You hated his fame. You hated his fans for being so negative when they saw you two together. But, most of all, you hated yourself for breaking Dylan’s heart. All he did was love you, care for you and want to be with you and in return, he was crushed.

Returning home from work one night in mid-March, you tossed your coat on a hanger, dropping your purse on the couch and left your boots in the hallway before taking the bags of groceries to the kitchen. You opened the bottle of beer before preparing to make yourself a small dinner, putting away the groceries you didn’t need. The chicken sat on the counter, staring back at you tauntingly. Dylan always loved his chicken, and the meat was a harsh reminder of the chocolate haired man.

Before you could crack it open, your phone started ringing. Your eyebrow rose, sipping at the beer. Fishing it out, you stared at the unknown number in confusion. With a quick swipe of the green button, you held it to your ear. “Hello?” You answered hesitantly.

“Hi. I’m looking for a Miss Y/N L/N?” the lady on the other side hummed. The line was loud on the other side, only confusing you more. People seemed to be bustling around so you weren’t entirely sure why they were calling, looking for you. You weren’t really sure who they were anyway.

“Speaking,” you mumbled.

“Hi. My name is Ariel. I am a nurse here at Mount Saint Joseph Hospital in Vancouver,” she said. Your brow furrowed, forehead crinkling together. Why was a hospital calling you? “I’m calling on half of a… Mister O’Brien?”

You choked on your drink, sputtering with a cough. Drops of the sour liquid fell to the ground, but that was the least of your concerns. “E-excuse me?”

“I can’t provide a lot of information at this time, but Mister O’Brien was brought in after an accident occurred on the movie set he was working on. You were one of the first on his emergency contact list.”

“W-what’s wrong with him?” You asked quietly.

“Well, he is currently in surgery. It seems the accident caused multiple breaks in the right side of his face and there is the possibility for some brain damage the doctors will assess. We will know more after he gets out of surgery.”

Hearing her words, the bottle spilled from your grasp, shattering on the ground by your feet. You couldn’t even feel the tears running down your cheeks. You wobbled to the side, weakly catching yourself on the table. The tears hit the wood, dark dots forming under you. You choked on your words, sobbing into the phone. He had been hurt after everything that happened. You blamed yourself, already fearing the worst.

“Miss Y/N?” Ariel asked.

“S-sorry,” you choked. “I um… am I able to come see him?”

“Of course. He won’t be out of surgery for a while, but you can come and wait until he can be seen.”

“I’ll be there as soon as possible. Thank you.”

You hung up your phone, ignoring the broken glass in the middle of your kitchen as you ran to your room, throwing mismatched clothes into a bag. You called for an uber, making for the airport before you knew what was happening. The first flight to Vancouver wasn’t for hours, but you waited, not caring how long it took or how expensive it was. You were going to see Dylan, even if it killed you.

Arriving at the hospital, his parents and sister were there. They looked as wrecked as you were. Your makeup from work had smeared since you didn’t bother to remove it. It formed dark rings around your eyes like a raccoon without sleep. You still had your bag in hand when you ran in, dropping it to give Julia a massive hug. You sobbed in her arms, burying your face in the girl’s shoulder.

“It’s all my fault,” you cried. “It’s all my fault, Jules.”

“No, honey. It’s not,” she cooed with her ragged, tearful voice. “It was an accident.”

“No, no. It’s all my fault! I pushed him away. I told him we couldn’t be together. He got hurt because I broke him. What if he doesn’t make it through this? What if he stops acting? What if-”

“Shh,” she said, pushing you back to cup your cheeks in her hands. “He’s going to be ok. You just have to believe in that. You have to be strong for Dylan. My brother is strong and he will make it.”

“But, what if he doesn’t forgive me?” you cried. Julia smiled, kissing your forehead.

“You didn’t do anything wrong. And honestly, that boy could never hate you. He’s loved you since the day you walked over to our house. He will get through this and he will tell you the exact same thing. It wasn’t your fault.”

You cried for a bit longer before releasing her, giving hugs to the Patrick and Lisa. Together, you sat in the waiting room until a nurse walked over, informing you that he was out of surgery and in his room. You followed as a unit towards where he laid, your hand grasp tightly in Julia’s.

“He’s under some heavy pain killers and hasn’t completely come out of the anesthetic. He might be sleeping for a while.”

“But he’s ok?” You croaked.

“Well, he’s undergone some reconstructive surgery since the right side of his face was nearly crushed from the accident. He might need to get some more, but he has gotten four plates to support the structure of that side. There is some brain trauma that we will monitor to make sure it doesn’t get any worse, but he should recover from it. I think mostly, it will be afterwards. It’ll be hard to get back out there after something like this.”

You sniffled loudly. Facial reconstruction, four plates he would live with for the rest of his life, brain trauma. Your heart crumbled in your chest. The nurse stopped outside a door, letting Dylan’s parents in first. You were honestly scared to see him. You were scared to see what happened to him. You were scared to think about what would happen. Would he be the same old Dylan? Would he change because of this? Would the surgery change him? Would he still love you?

Julia went next, the three leaving to give you time alone with Dylan when they were done. The O’Brien’s weren’t stupid. They were privy to the feelings you held for their son just as they knew how he felt for you. So, they let you be, letting you have time alone at his side. Grateful as you were, you hesitated before walking in. The bag dropped from your shaky hands when you heart the heart monitor beeping steadily. You saw the IV drop in his arm and his limp body sleeping in nothing more than a hospital gown. Compression socks covered his feet that stuck out from under the blanket, his hand resting on his stomach as he snoozed. You could barely tell it was Dylan with his face bandaged as much as it was, skin a mixture or orange and red from blood and iodine.

Fresh tears sprung to your eyes, covering your mouth to muffle the cry you let out. Your heart shattered to the floor at his broken state. Still, you moved forward, pulling up the chair by his bed. You took the hand without the IV in it, lacing your fingers together with his. They felt colder than normal, his skin having lost the hot luster and rough texture you loved. His knuckles were neatly bandaged as well, your lips pressing to them with gentle kisses.

Under your breath, you hummed quietly, singing him a song you sang together. Since the first time Dylan played it for you, he always made you sing it with him. He once said it represented your friendship because amongst everyone, he was always able to see you. You were the brightest star that lit his path, being there for him no matter what. But, now that you were thinking on it, singing it to his unconscious form, you realized that it mean more than that. You were the only one for him and he was the only one for you.

“I don't care, go on and tear me apart. I don't care if you do ooh ooh. 'Cause in a sky, 'cause in a sky full of stars. I think I saw you,” you sang quietly, your tears falling on his hand. “I’m so sorry, Dylan. This is all my fault. I shouldn’t have pushed you away. I was being stupid. I was being selfish. I thought I was doing what was best for both of us but in reality, it wasn’t good at all. I hurt you, I hurt me.

“But, please, Dylan. I need you. I need you so bad. I’m so sorry I kept pushing. And I promise, when you wake up, I’m done running. I want to be with you. I need you by my side. I want you, baby. You were right all along. It doesn’t matter what others say because all that matters to me is you. I will be by your side forever, no matter what. Just please, you have to make it through this. For me. I love you, Dylan O’Brien. I always have and I always will. And no one can stop us from being together if you still want that. I understand if you won’t because I… I broke you beyond belief.

“Dylan, please. I love you so much.”

You fell asleep by his side that night. And for many nights. You refused to leave his side, not wanting him to be alone when he awoke.

On the fifth day, his hand twitched. His body ached as he squirmed under the sheets. Clenching his eyes tighter. He remembered the jerk of his body and the pain the erupted over him like a volcano. He could recall the screams of people around him before the world went dark. He wanted to cry. He hurt, every limb of his body screaming at him to make it stop. The IV twisted when he felt at his bandaged face, remembering how fast everything went. People told him he was hurt, but he would be ok.

Was this ok?

His other hand was warm, a weight hanging on that side of the bed. It hurt to turn, his eyes softening when he saw your slumbering form. You looked like a wreck with your tangled hair and wrinkled, baggy clothes. Dark bags were under your eyes from lack of sleep, the stress having been too much to let you rest properly.

Just having you by his side made his heart thump, the beeping of the machine picking up. He would have smiled if he could, glad to see you there. He was sure that you hated him after the way you shut him out after you had sex. With you by his side, he was elated. The one thing he could have hoped to see was in front of him, holding his hand. The words he heard may not have been a dream after all, your voice echoing through his head with constant apologies.

His hand weakly squeezed at yours, waking you up in the process. He loved the way your eyelashes fluttered against your cheeks as you awoke, lifting your head from the side of the bed. It took you a few blinks to focus on his dull brown eyes encased by the bandages that stared down your soul. Tears were in your eyes instantly when he tried to give you a weak smile, squeezing your hand again.

“Dylan,” you sobbed, covering the noises you wanted to cry out.

You pushed up from your seat, the chair tipping backwards. You had to kneel on the side of the bed to hover over him, carefully taking his head in your hands. As tenderly as possible, you placed a kiss to his lips, letting them linger for a second. Your tears dropped onto his face, a smile on your face.

“You’re awake,” you cried. “I love you, Dyl. I love you so much.”

He groaned in response, his dry throat and fractured face not allowing him to talk. Taking his hand, he gave it a squeeze, making you cry more.

“You still love me?” You asked. He nodded slightly. You smiled, kissing his hand. “I love you, Dyl. I’m so sorry. For everything. I was stupid. But, I’m done being stupid. I… I can’t lose you again. I need you. I want you. And no one can stop us if you’ll still have me.”

His fingers twitched, slowing moving to lace with yours. You grinned, crying into your conjoined hands.

You were going to be ok.

“You will do great,” you said, playing with the fluffy curls that resided against his forehead. “Deep breaths, baby.”

“I’ve done interviews before,” he laughed, shaking his head.

“I know, Dyl. But this is the first since…”

“I’ll be fine,” he whispered, taking your hand. Dylan kisses your palm, his smile hidden from your view. “I love you, baby.”

“I love you too,” you told him, flushing a bright red.

“Dylan, we’re ready for you,” Clarissa, one of the people working on the interview, said, gesturing to the empty chair he was about to rest in.

“Alright,” he told her. Before he left, he placed a kiss to your lips, repeatedly placing them on your skin. His multiple kisses made you laugh, swatting him away. “Wish me luck!”

“Break a leg!” You grinned, the man stumbling away over clumsy feet.

August over a year later had come quickly. Dylan’s accident was hard to overcome, the man dealing with many hardships the entire time. But, he got up off the couch and managed to overcome the plagues of his mind. He filmed American Assassin about six months after he returned home from Vancouver. He went back and finished filming Death Cure in South Africa that May. He was back to the bright and shining Dylan O’Brien everyone knew and loved, and it didn’t even feel like he had been in a life-threatening accident on set.

He was doing press finally for the American Assassin release in a month and he was nervous. This was the first time he was getting interviewed since leaving the hospital and you both knew every interviewer was going to ask about the incident. Dylan had a couple of panic attacks at night when he thought about it, the trauma still present deep inside him. But, after many pep talks and deep breathing sessions he claimed he was ready to talk about. A year and he was going to reveal enough about what happened and how he felt after it all happened.

You stood off to the side, listening to the interviewer, Carla, ask him about the movie and working with Taylor and Michael. She asked about being cast as Mitch and how it was different than the other roles he played. He happily answered it all, never once shying away from his thoughts. He smiled brightly, making you proud of the man you loved. You were giddy to see him having come so far.

“Now, the elephant in the room,” Carla hummed thoughtfully. “The Death Cure. The accident last March. We know it happened, but we don’t know the details. I was wondering if you could share some of your thoughts on that.”

You swallowed thickly, seeing Dylan do the same. This was the moment you had been dreading. Dylan rubbed his hands on his jeans, adjusting in his seat. He cleared his throat before speaking.

“Yeah. The, um, accident,” he breathed. “It was hard. Honestly, it was something you know can happen but never thought actually would. One moment I was doing a scene and the next, I was on the ground, in pain, with people screaming around me. I ended up breaking most of the right side of my face and I thought I wouldn’t ever look the same after that. I was sure I was going to be scarred for the rest of my life and I wouldn’t look like me anymore. But, the doctors I had… they were amazing and made it look like nothing ever happened. Now, I just have four plates in my face that I will live with forever. There was some brain trauma I had to deal with but nothing I can’t handle now.

“After I got out, I… I almost didn’t come back. I was scared. I constantly thought that if it happened once, it could happen again. So, I wasn’t sure for a long time if I was going to get back into acting. I stayed in a lot because I didn’t know what to do with myself. But, I also realized that if I wasn’t acting, I didn’t know what I would be doing. Acting is such a large part of my life and I would feel lost if I didn’t get back out there. I couldn’t just give it up after all of this. And I had made commitments that I felt I couldn’t back out of. I didn’t want to give up. So, I got up off my couch, gave Cuesta a call and here we are.”

“So, what was training like coming off of that?”

“Not easy,” Dylan laughed. “I suffered from a lot of anxiety getting back into the swing of things. I spent eight weeks in LA with a trainer and throughout the weeks, I can’t count how many times I had a panic attack. He would pick up on when I was having a panic attack and end the session, helping me calm down. But, overall, it was good for me. It made me stronger, physically and mentally. And honestly, the accident helped me connect to Mitch on such a deeper level. I was able to understand what he went through, the pain and anguish and the anxiety that comes after a life experience like that. That connection meant so much more to me than I ever could have hoped for and I am thankful for that.”

“Well, we are definitely glad you came back,” Carla smiled. “But, I think what we want to know the most is how are you now?”

“Better,” Dylan said gratefully. “The last year hasn’t been the easiest, but I had a lot of support to get through everything. I honestly couldn’t have gotten through it without the support of my family, my friends, and…” He trailed off, glancing over at you. The thing you worried about for so long was about to be revealed. The secret you kept for so long was bound to be told publically. But, Dylan had said he wouldn’t say anything if you didn’t want it. But, you nodded at him, giving him the smile of acceptance he had waited for. “And my girlfriend, Y/N.

“I couldn’t have done this without any of them, especially her. She was there for me through… everything. She was the first thing I woke up after my accident. She was by my side no matter what. She took care of me when I couldn’t do things myself. She really was my rock, there to hold me up when I down. Y/N helped me through panic attacks and night terrors. She helped push me to get back into acting because she knew how much it meant to me. She told me one night that I would regret not getting back out there and honestly, she knows me well enough that she was absolutely right. She didn’t want me to stop what I love and I love her for that.”

“She sounds like an amazing girl.”

“She really is,” Dylan bragged. “She’s been my best friend for so long. I’ve known her for over ten years and I have been head over heels since high school for her. Even if she weren’t my girlfriend, I wouldn’t have gotten through this without her. I needed her just as much as I needed my family. The day I was leaving for London to film, I had a panic attack in the airport. Between her and my dad being there, I was able to calm down. They flew to London with me and stayed while I began the first few weeks of filming. But Y/N… yeah. She was my everything. She still is. She never once left my side. And I’m alive today because of her and her support. I love her dearly and she makes me incredibly happy. I’m lucky to have her.”

“Well, we are really glad you are ok now and back to filming,” Carla smiled.

“It’s good to be back.”

He thanked Carla for the interview, running back to your side. The second you were within reach, his arms wrapped around your waist, lifting you off the ground. You laughed as he spun you around, your arms clinging to his neck. “Dyl! Put me down!” you screamed. You were placed down, only to find his lips on yours in a passionate kiss. It was short, but you were left smiling. “Hey, you.”

“Hey, cupcake,” he grinned. “Ready to go home? To our home? God, I love saying that.”

“Dylan, it’s been our house for a month now.”

“I know,” he mused, taking your hand in his, lacing your fingers. “But, It’s our home, babe. I’m not going to get over that.”

“You’re a dork.”

With your hands combined, you proudly left the studio with the man you loved. A guard escorted you to the car that would take you back to Dylan’s manager’s office where Dylan’s car awaited. Some fans were outside, cheering and waving at Dylan. Some were ever screaming your name, smiling at you as you passed. It felt surreal at some of his fans were finally coming around to you, even if nothing was officially said about your relationship status until today. They supported you even when you thought they wouldn’t.

Sometimes, you hated to admit Dylan was right about these things.

The ride back to the house was silent, the two of you munching on some Chipotle burritos on the way. When he parked the car, you took a second to stare up at the marvelous house he bought for the two of you after he begged you to move in with him. Literally, he had gotten on his hands and knees to ask you to move in with him roughly a year after he could properly ask you to be his girlfriend. The large house was perfect - just like him. It was everything you had imagined you wanted growing up; Dylan made it all a reality.

The sun had set by this time. Dylan opened the door for you, helping you out of the car and into the house. His hands sat on your shoulders, guiding you through the front door. He massaged them lightly, his hands a wonder against your skin. The front door was locked behind you, your shoes left in the entryway like always. Your bodies slugged forward, tired from the long day.

“I think I could sleep forever,” Dylan groaned, leading you up the stairs to your room. The light flickered on, Dylan moving from your back to strip off his shirt. “I did not miss this.”

“You’ve always hated press tours,” you teased. “You never have liked interviews and the likes.”

You pulled your own shirt over your head, leaving you in just the lacy blue bra Dylan picked for you recently. He joked that it was because it was Mets blue, but you knew he liked the way your chest looked in it. And it was comfortable, so you were all for it. A darker bit of material covered your nipples, but the tops of the cups were mesh and see through. Roses lines the top of the cups while a box rested between your breasts. It was cute and stylish while providing support. They also made your chest look plump.

Before you could find your baggy nightshirt, two arms snaked around your waist, tugging you into a warm, bare torso. Lips found their way to your neck, tender kisses left from it to your shoulder. You moaned at the careful touch, your head tilting away to allow the better access. Hot breath hit the wet skin from the countless kisses, your breathing increasing and growing ragged.

“Thank you,” Dylan breathed into your ear, nipping at the earlobe. “For everything.”

Your hands smoothed over his resting on your stomach, leaning back into his touch better. “I should be thanking you because my life would be incomplete without you,” you told him.

You turned to see him, finding Dylan staring down at you with a dark glint in his beautiful hazel eyes. In a blink, his face moved forward and he was attacking your lips with his. Sloppy, open-mouth kisses were exchanged, tongues swirling together between your cheeks. Your arm wrapped around his head, tangling in his luscious hair. It helped to keep his face pressed to yours, the loud smack of lips disconnecting and recolliding together filling your bedroom.

His hands traveled up your body, sliding under the end of your bra to grip at both of your breasts. You moaned into the kiss, squirming in his grasp. His fingers flicked at your nipples, making them harder. He fondled them lovingly, jiggling them in an uneven beat. The feeling of his hands against your chest made you ache, your backside grinding against his crotch where the very evident erection was hidden in his jeans.

You were spun in his arms, Dylan lifting you off the ground mid kiss. Your legs weaved around his waist naturally, allowing him to carry you to the bed where you were dropping remorselessly. He popped the button and pulled off your jeans swiftly before moving to hover over you. Your lips reconnected in a heated encounter, his body rolling perfectly into yours. Hips grinded together, sparking your nerve endings to go wild. Limbs tangled together in a jumble of arms and legs trying to feel up the other.

Dylan’s hands worked on your bra while you worked on his belt and jeans. The black leather belt he wore was pulled free and tossed aside with a loud clank of metal. The popped button on the black denim let the hang low to show his v-lines and the happy trail that disappeared into his Calvin Kleins. With the way you were laying, you couldn’t easily push them down. Dylan didn’t have the same issue. Your bra was across the room and his lips were on your breast before you could tell what had happened.

Your hands tugged at his hair, back arching off the bed. Your core pressed up into his covered length, the attack on your chest making it burn. Your matching panties were soaked, juices leaking down your leg. It left a wet spot on his jeans, it growing darker the more you rubbed into him. The man ravished your mounds, taking as much of the skin around your nipples as he could into his mouth. His lips and teeth tugged at it, pulling away with a pop occasionally. His tongue flicked the boisterous nipples left and right, up and down, blowing cold air until they were rock hard to the touch. They were red and ripe, swollen from the assault they were receiving. Red blotches were left between the mounds, the process repeated.

“Dyl,” you moaned, tugging at his hair. “Fuck, I love you so much.”

“Do you now?” He taunted, trailing the kisses down your stomach and along the hem of your panties. “How much do you love me?”

“So much, baby,” you cried, bucking into his face. “So much so that I want to suck your cock while you eat me out.”

Dylan choked, pushing up on his hands to look at you. “Seriously?” He questioned. “You want to sixty-nine?”

“Is that a problem?” You asked.

“No. No, no, no,” he breathed, licking his lips. “It’s really fucking hot. We’ve never done that.”

“Come on, Dyl. Be sexy and kinky for once,” you laughed. His brown rose, a smirk forming on his face.

“I can be kinky, baby. Is that what you want?” He hummed, moving up to kiss your lips. “You want to have some dirty sex with me, cupcake?”

“Yes, actually,” you mused, making him choke again. “Always have dreamt of it. When you were away filming, I would touch myself while thinking about some dirty, kinky sex with the love of my life. I came thinking about all the ways my wonderful boyfriend would please me.”

“Why am I just now being informed of this?” he growled. “I thought we had this agreement about masturbating while I was away.”

“I know. I just couldn’t help it. Finally have this man I’ve always wanted in my life and I can’t stop thinking about what I want him to do to me and what I want to do to him,” you teased. “And right now, I want him to cum down my throat.”

Forcing all of your weight onto him, you flipped Dylan onto his back, The man not bothering to protest. He inched back on the pillows enough to watch you kiss down his chest, the man squirming when you kissed at his sensitive nipples. You smiled sweetly up at him, a mischievous agenda behind your eyes. His jeans, Calvin Kleins attached, were tugged down to his ankles, his cock springing free from its confines. The long, thick length slapped his stomach proudly, twitching with its newfound freedom. The tip was red and swollen with bits of precum dripping out of it. You were tempted to leave his pants bunched around his ankles so you could have that dick in your mouth, but you knew he would whine until they were off. So, they were stripped off of hi completely, dropped off the end of the bed long forgotten.

Dylan gestured you forward with the curl of a finger, placing a kiss to your lips before you spun around on him. “I love you,” he whispered. “And I’m glad you’re mine finally.”

“I love you too, Dyl,” you hummed, kissing him again. “I always have and I always will.”

“Good. Now,” he bemused, smacking your ass to make you squeak in joyful surprise. “I suggest you turn you cute little around, put your pretty little lips around my cock while I lick your pussy until you cum on my tongue.”

“I like dirty Dyl,” you laughed, doing as he said. You nuzzled against his pulsating length, kissing up and down it. Dylan groaned, pulling you back so he could see your dripping pussy better, running a tongue through your folds. His hands kept firm holds on your legs on either side of his head, the actor wasting no time shoving his face completely in your core, tongue delved deep inside you.

You mewled, struggling to stay focused from the pleasure washing over your body. His magical tongue circled inside you, the tip massaging at your sensitive walls in search of the spots that made you scream. He normally found them easily with his cock, but his tongue was struggling; that, or he wasn’t trying hard to find it right away to prolong your delight. The more he licked at your moist center, pulling out occasionally to harshly suck at the swollen nub of your clit, the more he seeped precum that made your eyes widen and mouth water.

Your mouth wrapped around the head of his cock, hollowed cheeks sucking at it happily. Your tongue smoothed over the slit in the tip to savor the salty sweet gold he released, feeling the rough patch of the frenulum. Dylan groaned in approval, the noise vibrating your center and up your body. It pushed you to do more. Your head bobbed along his length, tracing your tongue along the pulsing veins on the underside that succeeded in drawing even more muffled noises from the man under you. The tip of his shaft hit the back of your throat, but it didn’t stop you from showering his length was affection.

His mouth stayed on your core while his fingers played with your clit, stimulating you in multiple ways. In return, you toyed with his balls, caressing them in your hand. Together, you pleased the other, moans muffled by the skin you were sucking at. Your toes curled while Dylan’s flexed, his legs tensing from the overwhelming ecstasy. Your stomach was tightening, coiled from his tongue buried deep inside you. It was burning up quickly, the smoldering fire inside you intensifying. Dylan was shaking, indicating that he was at that point.

With a snap of the fingers, you were moaning around him, your juices leaking out on his tongue. Dylan happily lapped them up, swallowing every last drop. And after two more hard sucks of your mouth, he was shooting his seed down your throat, ejaculating drop after drop onto your tongue. The strings of white cum slid down your throat in waves, not one ounce allowed to escape. When you pulled away, yu ran your tongue over your lips, making sure nothing had managed to escape.

Dylan was breathing heavily when you crawled off of him, his stubbled chin and area around his mouth glistening in the lamplight from your core. His eyes were hazy and his smile was lopsided, the entire aura screaming satisfaction. He didn’t bother to wipe his mouth clean, occasionally licking at them to taste your sweet arousal. You gave him a smile, leaning over his body to lazily kiss his lips. A breathy moan left his lips, pushing harder into it.

He groaned in disapproval when you pulled away, but the frown on his lips upturned quickly when you straddled his waist instead. Your hips rocked against his, his shaft sliding through your folds. It slickened from the roll of your hips, the tip prodding at your core, unsuccessfully sliding in every time. The man under you groaned, gripping your hips tightly.

“Come on, baby,” he scowled. “Stop teasing. God, I need to be inside you. Don’t make me wait. Show me what you got.”

“What do you want?” you asked, circling your hips over him. His mouth opened to answer, a disgruntled moan leaving in a gruff sound.

“Ride me like a fucking cowgirl,” he rasped. “I want to see you bouncing like crazy on my cock. I want to feel your tight fucking pussy hugging me while I cum inside you. I will smack your ass while you pound yourself on my cock. Fuck, baby. Just do something.”

You grinned, sliding his sock inside you with a shift of the hips. He was hilt deep in a matter of seconds, his thick shaft filling you to the brim. Placing your hands on his chest, you propped yourself on the balls of your feet, beginning to bounce on his shaft steadily. Slow at first, your pace gradually got faster, using his chest for leverage. Dylan never cared that you put weight on his chest when you started having regular sex. It allowed you to ride him better, your hips clapping together with a sweaty smack.

Dylan watched you quickly bounce on him, his cock sliding in and out of you quickly. Your breasts followed the same motion, jiggling up and down when you pushed against the balls of your feet. His shaft was wet when he emerged, covered in your arousal before he disappeared again into your depths. With his hands on your hips, he guided your motions, helping you slam against him as hard as you could. And when you had a good rhythm, Dylan would smack your ass to make you moan his name, your backside red with handprints.

Dylan tugged you forward so your chests collided, forcing you to turn onto your back so he was hovering over you. Your legs were pushed up, trapped by his arms so your legs ended up perpendicular to the bed. The backs of your knees rested to his elbows, Dylan inching up your body so he was deeply inside you. It seemed like his cock was resting to your g-spot because you walls were spasming around him, your moans a constant stream from your mouth. His eyes were locked on yours, giving you a deep kiss before moving.

His thrusts were quick to start, slamming deeply into you. You mewled his name, clawing at his arms and back while he moved. His cock pistoned into you, your back being pounded into the mattress. Every thrust of his hips made a sweaty slapping sound that reverberated through the room. Every push into you allowed him to his your sweet spot harder enough to make you scream, rubbing against your sensitive walls with ease. Your legs bounced through the air, toes furling through the air.

“Fuck me, Dylan,” you cried, throwing your head back in the pillows. His pistoning sped up, slamming you into the mattress. His increased speed made you scream louder and more often. “Fuck! Fuck me, Dylan. Fuck me, Dylan. Fuck me, Dylan,” you chanted. His labored breathing picked up, but he didn’t stop, pushing into you as hard as he could.

“Fuck, you feel so good, cupcake,” he groaned. “So tight and warm. You feel so good. Shit, I can’t wait to fill you with my cum.”

His angle and depth, his speed and power - everything made the knot inside you twist into a million tiny coils before exploding. Deep claw marks shredded at his back throughout your orgasm, his shoulder blades red as you came. Your juices splashed around his length, splattering against your walls and coating his cock. His thrusts became slick, squishing to mix with the scream, the hip smacks, and the heavy breaths.

Dylan leaned down to kiss you one last time, unable to contain his orgasm that he had been chasing. With a muffled grunt that vibrated his throat, he spilled his seed into you. Strings of hot, white arousal seeped into you, ixing with the fluids you released around him. His thrusts slowed, remaining solely so you could ride out your highs. Your tight walls that were once spasming around him clung to every inch of his length, milking the last of his juices into you.

Dylan dropped your legs, rolling off of you onto his side of the bed. Both of you just laid flat, catching your breaths from the rigorous activities. Dylan turned his head to glance at you, you turned to glance at him. Without explanation, you both burst out laughing, rolling towards each other. His arm draped over your waist, tugging you closer to him.

“God, I love you,” he whispered, kissing your forehead. “Never in my wildest dreams would I have thought I would be lying here with you now, calling you mine. I’m just so glad that we could be here now.”

“I love you too, Dyl,” you hummed, kissing his lips softly. “I can’t tell you how stupid I was for pushing you away for so long.”

“It’s fine, cupcake,” he said, playing with your hair. “I get it. My fans… they’re crazy sometimes. But, they will accept you because you are the perfect girl for me. They can’t keep me from loving you. They don’t make the decisions for us. I chose you, Y/N L/N, because you are the most amazing woman I know. You have always been there for me when I’ve needed you. You are my best friend and my girlfriend and my lover and…” he paused, kissing you softly. “No one will tell us who we can be or what our relationship is. All I know is that you were meant to be mine and I am never letting you go again.”

“I’m still sorry,” you murmured. “I hurt you so much. I never should have let them get to me.”

“Babe, it’s fine,” he said. “It’s the past and you are mine.”

“But-”

“No,” he claimed, rolling on top of you. He peppered your face with kisses, making you laugh. “No buts. You are an amazing woman and I will fight you.”

“Did you just say that?” you laughed, shaking your head. Dylan grinned before rolling off of you. His naked behind scurried away to the dresser, rummaging through it for a pair of socks. You watched hi in confusion until he returned with a pair of fuzzy Mets socks he rare wore. His half limp dick flounced with his steps, but he was uncaring to what you saw. Plopping himself back on the bed, he pulled you into his chest while his back rest against the headboard. The blankets were pulled up over your laps, your chests exposed.

“So, I’ve been thinking,” he started.

“About socks?” you joked. “Didn’t know you thought so hard about socks, baby.”

“Shush,” he scolded. “Just let me talk, dork brain.”

“Fine, fine.”

Dylan took a deep breath, taking you hand briefly. “Y/N, you are my best friend. You are my girlfriend. You are the girl I have loved for so long. I’m glad I can call you my own. You have been there for me through everything and I wouldn’t be where I am today if it weren’t for you. After my accident, I was so glad that you were there when I awoke. You gave me hope that everything would be ok.”

You glanced up at the man, concerned slightly. “What are you getting at, Dyl?”

“I’m getting to that!” he laughed. “What I’m trying to say is that I love you. I love you with everything I have. I love you today, I will love you tomorrow and I will love you for all of eternity. And, I wasn’t planning to do this right now, but, my parents told me to do it when it felt right. And it does.”

Slowly, from the socks he had grabbed, he pulled out a black, velvet box that made you heart stop. Your eyes were the size of golf balls. Inside the box was a diamond ring in the shape of a rose.

“Y/N, I want to spend the rest of my life with you because no one else can tell us who we can be with. We decide what the future holds for us, and mine is with you. So, please, Y/N L/N, will you be my wife?”

You gaped at the ring, making Dylan nervous.

“Please answer me,” he whimpered quietly.

Swallowing, you nodded, tears springing to your eyes. “Yes, Dylan. I will marry you.”

Dylan smiled, taking the ring from the box and sliding it on your finger. It fit perfect and once it was in place, he kissed it repeatedly. He turned to look up at you, finding you staring at him. He leaned up, connecting your lips in a heated embrace. Smiles were hidden in it, the love filling the room.

When you pulled away, he whispered, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” you replied. “Now, I’m hungry. Can we order take out?”

Dylan cracked up laughing, burying his face in your neck. “You’re impossible.”

“I know.”

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