#not just cutting off the sleeves of thrifted tees that don’t fit me how i like

[ser4fhim]

my schools upcycling club has a swap meet next month i’m SO EXCITE DJFJFK

[garbagevanfleet]

Brightest Blue (series)

SURPRISE VALENTINE’S DAY UPDATE!

PART FIVE

Pairing: Josh x reader Warnings: flirting, alcohol, mentions of smoking  Summary:  Things are changing. New state. New school. New roommate. You just pray things are going to click into place. Notes: This chapter is so cute to me. Pajama party anyone?  As always, thanks to the actual best editor alive today, @lantern-inthenight​ 

MASTER POST

taglist: @valleyd0ll​ @satingrass-maidensfair​ @guitarfingers​ @thebohemianpenguin​ @peaceisouranthem​ @oblvions​ @hansonobsessed​

@bigblack-catattack​ @myownparadise96​ @lara-gvf​ @anditsmywholeheart​ @kill-fear-the-power-of-lies​

It was undeniable that winter was on its way. The weekend brought predictions for temps in the lower 40’s and, even in the warmth of the apartment, you felt perpetually chilled.

Kate had messaged you late on Friday asking if you wanted to get coffee Saturday morning, and you had excitedly agreed to meet her at the local cafe called The Daily Grind (which, admittedly, you chose because of the cute name).

She had seen you bundled up like a burrito in two sweatshirts and a long-sleeved tee underneath and laughed, but you explained to her how you had never really been in temps this cold before.

Your fingers were wrapped as tight as they could go around your mocha as you watched her sip her black coffee, her maroon-painted lips leaving a mark on the white mug.

“When we’re done here, would you want to go with me to a thrift store? My mom sent some money for me to buy warmer clothes when she saw the weather for this area,” you said with an excited tone. “She’s afraid I’m going to get pneumonia.”

She hummed in an interested tone. “That sounds like fun. Which one do you wanna check out first?”

“You’ve been around here longer, so I’ll let you pick.”

“The one on Maple is the one where all the rich sorority girls go, so I bet you’d find some good stuff there,” she informed, tapping her nails against the ceramic.

You beamed a smile, relishing in the sunny feeling that only spending time with other girls gave you. “You wanna drive or me?”

+++

“Do you think if I buy a pair of jeans a size too big I could get away with wearing leggings under them?” you asked, flicking through the hangers. “I feel like the wind here cuts right through my denim.”

“Maybe two sizes bigger so you can wear sweatpants.” You knew she was teasing you by her playful tone, but that was actually kind of brilliant, you thought. “You should try this one.”

You had to get onto your tippy toes to see her over the long rack. She was holding up a soft-looking sweater, multicolored horizontal stripes running across the fabric. The color pattern reminded you of Twiggy from the ’60s.

“It’s cute,” you agreed, taking it as she handed it to you. By the time you were ready for a fitting room, you had a pile of things and the employee on duty looked not very excited to have to put them back when you were done, but luckily she wouldn’t have to. Pretty much everything fit perfectly.

You were shocked to see the total - where you were from, all of that would have been well over $60, even second hand, but you ended up forking over a measly $35, and you figured most of that total was from the nearly new jacket you had found.

As she was driving you back to the coffee shop, you exclaimed giddily, “I’m so excited to have warm clothes. Now Josh can finally have his sweatshirts back.”

She looked over at you surprisedly. “That’s Josh’s?”

“Yeah, he gave me three and I’ve been alternating between them.” You reached forward to turn her radio up a notch, Janet Jackson’s “All For You” perking your ears.

“Are you sure he wants them back?” she asked, giving you a coy smile that you didn’t understand.

You adopted a puzzled look. If she was alluding to something, it was lost on you. “Why wouldn’t he? They’re still perfectly fine - I was even careful not to get my perfume on them.”

Now stopped at a red light, she turned to give you a squinty look until she seemed to realize you were serious. “Nevermind,” she relented, smirking forward at the road.

When you got back home, Josh was gone. You shot him a message inquiring as to his whereabouts and started snipping the tags off of your new clothes with a pair of pruning shears. You were exponentially grateful for the fact that the washing machine in your building had been repaired - and with a shocking amount of haste too.

The smell of the laundry room down the hall was pleasant. It reminded you of the times when your mom would wash all the towels and blankets in the house, and that was a job that either required a laundromat, or an entire day switching loads.

At the end of your shopping day, you made out with three new sweaters, two pairs of thicker jeans, a new coat, a winter hat, and an actual pajama set, which would be infinitely warmer than the shorts and tank top you’d moved in with.

You cheerily popped your new clothes into the washer, along with a tide pod, some of your bras and underwear, and closed the lid.

Around 1 pm, Josh still wasn’t back and hadn’t replied, so you decided it was a perfect time to work on some self-care. The yoga mat you had packed had yet to see the light of day in Michigan, so you dug it out, unrolled it in your room, changed into some easy clothing, and pulled up a beginner’s tutorial on your phone. By the thirty-minute mark, you were sweating and tired, but the stretch in your muscles was oddly pleasant on top of the discomfort, so you pushed yourself to keep going until the video was done. The cute blonde running the tutorial suggested you take some time in your cool down to look inward, as she thought that was a big part of yoga. So, you laid there on the mat, staring up at your ceiling for a good, long while, just taking time to reflect and enjoying it.

Your room, and the whole apartment really, had become home so quickly. You hadn’t ever had the opportunity to test the theory before, but you had always imagined that leaving home would make you feel out of place.

But you didn’t.

Sure, you missed home in the way that any human that came from a loving and supporting family would, but you were expecting to ache for it. You had taken a long time in your backyard and in your favorite spot back home, just so you could have a final fix, but all that was to you now was a fond memory.

After a few moments of being alone with your thoughts, you were going to get up and take a shower, but you had decided to postpone it. While you were staring up at the ceiling, you realized that there was a lot of unused space that the sun hit toward the top of the room. Wasted sun was a felony in your book. You spent about an hour pulling down your curtain rod, removing the fabric, and replacing it with hanging pots of all sizes and lengths.

Your string of hearts, your pearls, your golden pothos - the thought of them being the first thing you saw when you opened your eyes in the morning was one that made you feel sentimental. You’d just have to be careful with watering.

Once you were satisfied with the placements, you made your way to the bathroom. As you waited for the shower to heat up to a tolerable temperature, you took some time to pluck any stray hairs around your eyebrows and gently brush the knots out of your hair. Self-care had always felt like a long term investment to you - one well worth it.

The warm spray of the shower felt amazing on your tired muscles, so you took your sweet time getting clean and enjoying it, then blow-drying your hair on low heat when you were finished. After, you excitedly got out your new pajama set, clipped the tags, and put it on.

Shortly thereafter, you heard a key slip into the lock on the front door. You were cuddled up on the couch, enjoying the feel of the soft fabric on your freshly scrubbed skin as you watched through the complete second season of the Simpsons, popcorn in your lap.

When he stepped into the house, he raised his eyebrows at you, surveying the area.

“What?” you asked, giving him a confused look.

“Just looking for the books and the homework.” You rolled your eyes at him before he continued on with, “I just always assumed that when I wasn’t around, you were doing boring, adult things.”

You gave him a playful shrug as you gestured to the noticeably book free space around you.

He squinted at you suddenly. “Are you in your pajamas? You know it’s like 3:30 in the afternoon, right?”

“They’re new!” you quipped. “And I was excited to wear them. You don’t have to be jealous, you could go get yours on and join me.”

The offer seemed to be tempting him. “I have a better idea. How about you go change, and we’re going to go to a party tonight.”

You scowled at him, crossing your arms over your chest. “Are you crazy? I’m already in my pajamas. I’ve already taken my bra off! Once it’s off, it doesn’t go back on.”

He laughed, loud and unabashed, showing you all of his teeth. The sound made your cheeks flush.

“C’mon, I bet Kate will be there,” he reasoned. “And I obviously will be. And I’m positive Jake will be too. This might be your chance to get them to hook up.”

You bit your bottom lip in consideration. “The timing would be kinda perfect; she could have the whole day tomorrow to process it and then tell me about it on Monday.”

He was smirking at you when you looked back up at him, making you tuck your hair behind your ear anxiously. “If I come, do you promise not to leave me alone?”

He nodded at you confidently. “I will not leave you.”

The very first thing you did was message Kate. It was vital that she was there, just in case Josh got too drunk to remember his promise. You didn’t have a hard time socializing, per-say. You were just nervous about your first real social event here.

Josh was right though - it wouldn’t kill you to make some more friends.

When you were in the bathroom brushing your teeth, Kate messaged back saying that she would never miss getting to see you drunk, and you didn’t have the heart to tell her you had to drive, so you opted to leave that part out. You worked on picking out a good, sensible outfit and took your time to put on makeup again. Admittedly, it felt kind of nice - you used to wear a full beat all the time, but somewhere along the line it started to feel tedious, which is something you never wanted any of your favorite things to feel, so you put the whole idea of it on the shelf for a while.

When you finally emerged from your room around 8, Josh was sitting on the kitchen counter, phone in his hands as he furiously typed out a message. You listened to the pleasant sound of his fingers tapping on the glass screen for a moment before speaking.

“Who are you messaging?” you asked, but it didn’t grab his full attention right away.

“Just one of the other theater guys,” he said through a near sneer. The only time you ever saw him looking distressed was when it came to his production. “Trying to tell me what I can and can’t do with my own production-”

When he looked up at you the rest of his thoughts seemed to escape him, all the emotion in his face and posture crumbling away.

You folded your hands together, giving him a concerned look. “Are you okay?”

He tucked his phone into the pocket of his pants, abandoning whatever he had been so intent on doing just seconds ago.

“Yeah, I just haven’t ever seen you dressed up before.”

The extra attention made you slump back against the hallway wall, giving him a nervous grimace. Through pursed lips, you asked, “Is it too much?”

His eyes popped open, along with his mouth. It took him a moment to speak actual words - like he wanted to say a lot all at once. “What? No! I’m just stupid,” he assured, running his fingers through his curls. “It took my brain a moment to process.”

You gave him a forgiving smile, opening the fridge and grabbing out a carton of juice. He watched as you took a swig, letting you swallow before asking, “Do you want me to drive?”

Your eyebrows raised in surprise, finger swiping away a stray droplet. “Can you?”

“Drive?” he laughed. “Yes. I can drive.”

“Legally?” you pressed, handing over the carton to him when you caught him eyeing it. He took a drink right from the spout as well, giving you a wink that made you lovingly roll your eyes.

+++

You two seemed to unintentionally match. He was in a pair of khaki pants, a black long-sleeved shirt, and a denim jacket on top. You were positive he was going to freeze solid one of these days because he always seemed to be way underdressed for the weather.

As you went to get out of the car, he stopped you with a touch to your knee. “You should take off your jacket and hat and leave them in here; I wouldn’t ever trust leaving them unattended at a party.” He paused before speaking again. “Not that anyone would necessarily steal them, just that people get drunk and think stuff is theirs.”

“Like you did with the wallet?” you teased, making him rub at the back of his neck.

“Yes,” he said pointedly through a grin. “Like that.”

He held the sleeve of your jacket as you shrugged out of it, abandoning it into the back seat. You took just a second to mourn the fact that it would be cold when you went to put it back on.

In the rearview mirror, you fixed your hair, having been mussed by the removal of your hat, and then stepped out. He ushered you along first, reaching past you and pushing the door open for you when you had reached it. The music hit you like a wall, loud and energetic - followed quickly by the smell of alcohol. A cloud of smoke hung subtly near the ceiling, giving the room an air of mystery. You realized you hadn’t made a move to enter the house when you felt his hand on the middle of your back.

“Everything okay?” he asked, just above the volume of the music. You nodded, feeling silly for holding him up, and stepped inside.

People were moving to the music like blood reacting to a heartbeat, swaying around to the rhythms all in a pleasant unison. The scene was oddly hypnotic as the colors danced around.

The second that people could see Josh behind you, they started calling his name. Your stomach lurched for a second, scared that he was either going to leave you or drag you to a group that you didn’t know, but he waved them off instead.

“I’ll catch you guys in a minute,” he shouted through a grin so charming they couldn’t seem to muster up a shred of annoyance toward him. Then, he spoke the next part right against your ear. “You want a drink?”

“Just one,” you agreed with a nod, shivering ever so slightly as his breath hit your cheek.

In the kitchen, huddled around an island covered by bottles, was a group of people, all very visibly drunk. One of those people was Kate, dressed in a crisp looking pair of jeans, a white crop top, and a red checkered flannel shirt, left open to expose her midriff.

When she caught sight of you, she gave you a big, toothy smile. The sharp fringe of her bob moved just enough to sometimes expose a pair of gold disk earrings.

“Need a drink?” she asked as she broke away from the rest of the crowd. “I’ll make it for you.”

You put your hands up, laughing at her enthusiasm. “I’m going to let Josh make it for me,” you informed, knowing full well that she would make it strong enough to get you drunk and keep you in that state for the whole evening.

The one that Josh ended up making for you was, undeniably, a rum and Coke. Not your most favorite thing ever, but then again, this one was mostly just Coke. You made a mental note to thank him for being so considerate.

The three of you ended up in the living room, right in the throws of all the action. You’d been to a few parties back home, but this felt kind of different. Back home, it was always hot, so the parties usually spilled out into the yard in all directions. Come to think of it, you’d never been to a party where the guests weren’t making prominent use of the pool. But here everyone was packed in tightly, making a large house feel tiny.

Kate found you all a nice little corner with a love seat and some kind of weird puff you think you were meant to put your feet on. Settling in there meant you’d have to share the space with a couple of other people, but it felt worth it to not be standing in the middle of the room. Being out in the open made you feel nervous - like you were being circled by sharks.

The songs changed, but the beat seemed to stay pretty much the same, making it easy for the time to slip by without your acknowledgment. By the time you checked your watch, it was nearly eleven.

True to his word, Josh didn’t leave your side the whole night. People kept popping in and out to get a word with him. You couldn’t hear them well because he was sat across from you, but he was laughing quite a bit. Some of it looked kind of forced, but most of it seemed genuine - like he was actually having a nice time.

It wasn’t until you were close to getting ready to leave that you saw Jake making his way down the stairs, one hand on the wooden railing to steady himself and the other wrapped around a red cup. You flashed him a smile when his eyes landed on you, and he gave you one back, giving you a feather-light punch to your shoulder when he reached you.

“Move over,” he demanded in Josh’s direction, sitting nearly on top of him on the couch, with only light complaints from his twin.

“You smell like sex,” Josh said through a fake grimace, pressing his elbow into Jake’s ribs.

“Can’t imagine why,” Jake responded with a smirk, lifting the cup to his lips as you giggled at him.

The realization struck you as his eyes landed on Kate next. “Oh, Jake, this is my friend Kate. Kate, Jake Kiszka.”

She reached out and took his hand to shake and at the same moment, Josh laid his hand on your leg and through a grin, asked, “Should we take off?”

You laughed, giving him a nod.

“Kathrine, Jacob,” Josh started, clapping his hands together in front of him. “We are leaving. See you guys soon?”

“We should actually get tacos,” Kate stated seriously to the group as a whole, and then just to Josh said, “And my name is Kathleen.”

[our-smooty]

Aside from more 2Stu (you know me) how about a drabble of Stuart wearing a wedding gown and seeing himself in the mirror all dressed up and pretty?

I’m gonna base this off of something that happened to me as a kid, if you don’t mind! Under the cut so I don’t clog up the feed, no warnings necessary!

One activity that everyone in Gorillaz could get behind was thrifting. How else were they supposed to find clothing to fit each of their very specific tastes? Normally when they entered the store they’d split up, then meet at the change rooms after a few hours of collecting. It was one of their rare shared interests outside of music.

Noodle usually picked out the stores. She liked to go out a lot more than everyone else, and always knew where the most interesting items were. 2D, Russel, and Murdoc trusted her judgement, even if Murdoc complained when she made them drive all the way across the city. 

This time she hadn’t made them go too far though, so the grumbling had been minimal on the drive. As usual, they went their separate ways and 2D shot off towards the men’s t-shirt section. Noodle had mentioned that she’d seen some vintage band tee’s and he wanted to get first pick before Murdoc got his grubby hands on them. Unfortunately, he got lost and somehow ended up in the dress section, but Stu wasn’t one to turn down a style opportunity–or tragedy–so he got to browsing.

He was halfway to convincing himself that he did need a poofy pink prom dress in his wardrobe when he saw it. It stood out against all of the other dresses because it was pure white and made of a sleek, lacy material. When he dragged it out the fabric just kept on coming, seemingly endless. 2D marvelled at it when it was finally all out in the open. A real, honest-to-goodness wedding dress with rhinestones, lace, and a full train lay draped over his arms. And it looked just his size too, which would be weird considering he could barely find clothes that fit in stores, given how lanky he was. 

“S’pretty fancy, innit?” he said to himself, stroking the fabric. There was really no reason for him to try the dress on–it wasn’t like he was getting married any time soon–but he wanted to, very badly. So with a sneaky glance over both shoulders, Stu dashed off to the dressing rooms to try it on. Unfortunately, being a single bloke, he had no idea that it often took an entire team of bridesmaids to wrangle a wedding dress into place, and he was soon stuck with one arm in the sleeve, another pinned by his legs, and his head jammed in the spare armhole.

“Ah–!Oop…shit! Uh, h-help?” he called, but the dress was trickier than it looked and the huge train was acting like soundproofing. “I dun’ wanna die t’a dress!”

“Dee?” Stu jumped, losing the tentative headway he’d been making at dismantling himself from the dress’ clutches and falling in a heap on the stall floor. “2D is that you in there?”

“Noodle! Noodle this dress it tryin’ t’eat me!” he wailed, thrashing about. Noodle sighed heavily and dove in, flinging lace and limbs this way and that until Stu was no only untangled, but fully wearing the dress.

“Is this a wedding dress?” she asked, out of breath and leaning against the stall wall for support. 2D turned from side to side so he could see himself at every angle the cheap full-length mirror. The dress fit perfectly which made absolutely no sense.

“I think so, kinda pretty isn’t it?” Ever the frontman, Stu stood and preened in the mirror. The dress hugged him tightly and the large cutout at the back drew the eye straight to his arse. Or at least he assumed it would. Maybe with a little bit of makeup, and some hair supplies he might almost look pretty. And not pretty like Murdoc sometimes called him, but really, actually pretty. 

“You gonna buy it? We could turn it into some sort of ‘zombie bride’ outfit for the next photo shoot if you want.” That broke him out of his slightly sappy wedding-bell filled haze and Stu immediately perked up.

“If you can get it off’a me without scissors you can do the honours of dropping the first blob of fake blood on it,” he joked. It would be a shame to destroy the dress, even if it would make a really cool prop. Stu gave himself one last once-over in the mirror, the image of him all fancied up stamping itself in his mind. Oh well, it wasn’t like he couldn’t get another one, if he ever needed it.

THE DRESS 

[mayorcocko]

sung sees the booty perform for the first time and is just so blown away by the sheer volume of sexual energy up on that stage that he has to speak his mind. what happens next is up to you

a few things

is it 3:30 AM? yes

Is this over 10K? yes

would i consider doing a follow up for it? yes

am i proofreading it? hell no.

should i post this on ao3 and say to hell with it? you tell me.

anyways, it’s here for now under the cut.

Sung likes to think that he’s got this whole dramatic entrance thing down by now. It’s the theatrics of it, he’s learned, the willingness to simply throw yourself about with wild abandon and make a complete fool of yourself without a second thought.

And that was something that Doctor Sung excelled at more often than not.

So he can’t help but be surprised when he all but flies into the room where Havve and Meouch and Phobos have situated themselves and they don’t even react, barely even blink, at his sudden appearance. For a moment he just stands there and looks at them before clearing his throat in a not so subtle way.

Yes, Sung? Havve doesn’t even look up from the whetstone in his palm (which Sung supposes is a good thing given the fact that the other hand wields an already wickedly sharp knife.) Do you have something to say?

He bites back a sigh and glances around the room first, taking in Phobos’s curled form on the nearby loveseat with book propped in lap and Meouch sitting opposite to him, the Leoian tuning his bass in an almost casual manner. “Y-yes.” Sung stutters before he finds himself again. He throws out his arms, doing his best enticing finger waggles his digits can muster. “Who…………” He drags the word out, eye touching upon each of his friends meaningfully before he grins just so. “Wants to come to a concert with me tonight?!”

A strange note is plucked out by Meouch in response and then, in turn, Phobos flips a page and Havve runs his blade across the whetstone with a strange, sharp noise. Sung can only stand there, brow falling over his eye in confusion as the lack of response continues until it finally becomes unbearable.

“I said-!”

“We heard you, Sung.” Meouch finally looks up. “Goin’ to concerts with you is gods awful, so I’m going to have to pass.”

“Awful!” He blusters as he strides up to the Leoian. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Means you get worked up.” Phobos explains in a soft voice, antennae twitching with amusement. “Excited.”

“One would assume that’s a good thing.” Sung grits out before he’s narrowing his eye at Meouch. “You got something against having fun?”

“No Sung, but I can’t do the whole screaming twelve year old girl act that you somehow always manage to pull out of your ass every time we go see someone perform live. I have a migraine, okay? I want to work on my bass and then I want to sleep and that’s final.” The Leoian snaps before he’s settling back into the couch, tail thumping against the cushions in annoyance. Well, that answers that… He sighs under his breath before turning in the opposite direction.

“What’s your excuse?” He says in a quiet voice, already knowing the answer given how Phobos is nestled up in a blanket with Dangus purring at his side, the book in his hands just nearing the halfway mark.

“Just got to the good part.” Phobos says in an apologetic voice, not looking apologetic whatsoever. “Sorry Sung.”

He turns to Havve finally, eyeing the robot, still working the knife methodically over the whetstone without pause.

No. He says before Sung can even open his mouth, can even form a thought. The empath deflates and begins to slump his way out of the room, not even bothering with saying any kind of goodbye. Stop Charlie Brown-ing over there, Sung. Havve calls after him. He stops at the door before throwing a dirty look over his shoulder.

I should have never introduced you to pop culture, you bastard.

Another low note on the bass, a page flip, the sound of the knife scraping on the whetstone.

No one’s saying you can’t go by yourself Sung. Havve says with a barely perceptible tilt of his head.

Sung’s going stiff with it. Where’s the fun in that? He shoots back and Havve tilts his head back to it’s original position, holding the knife up for inspection while he does.

You’re you, Sung. I’m sure you can find someway, somehow, to have fun tonight on your own. Their eyes meet across the room and there’s something in Havve’s optics that fills him with resolve.

“Fine.” He says outloud. “I’ll go myself, and I’ll have the best time of my life, and you’ll all regret it.” He’s stomping off and Havve’s quiet laughter is the only thing to follow him, ringing through his head across their link.

-

It’s some hole in the wall bar where you can see the stage the moment you walk in the door. He’s as human as you can get, he supposes. Some scrounged up thrift shop band tee for Led Zeppelin with a flannel over it, jeans and beat up sneakers, the dark visor band that covers his eye the only real stand out thing in that moment, but that’s what you got for being, you know, not of this world.

He doesn’t even bother with the bar, instead just find a spot off to the side, watching as everyone else filters in. His core is covered but that doesn’t stop him from getting a read on the room and what everyone is feeling. There’s quite a few newcomers, people who don’t really know what they’re getting into like him, and then there’s the handful that do. Excitement, eagerness, a completely unexpected seuxal undercurrent that seems to run through quite a lot of them. Sung hadn’t even bothered to check what kind of music this band Planet Booty made, deciding instead to go in with virgin ears, but now he was very, very intrigued.

“Oh boy.” A voice says next to him. He looks over at the stranger, a young woman with short blonde hair and kohl rimmed eyes. “I know that look.”

His brow raises some from behind his visor and she’s giving an easy chuckle. “What look?” Sung says slowly and her lips pull up at the corners in response, a mischievous look coming about her.

“First Booty experience.” Not just me, he wants to say as he glances around the room again, but he lets the human girl continue- morbidly curious in the face of her growing glee. “Dylan’s gonna wreck your shit.” Her endearing tone is at complete odds at her dangerous words. Sung’s mouth opens but she’s already flouncing off to the stage, throwing a “good luck!” over her shoulder at him.

Alrighty then.

He’s considering the inevitable drink that he probably ought to just get when the lights dim, the crowd leaning forward with quiet anticipation. This is why he loved this kind of shit. The thrum of excitement shared between each other, the emotions that could be evoked by just the right note or tune. The rest of the guys didn’t get it, couldn’t get it the way he did.

Oh gods, Sung can’t help but think a moment later, what was he wearing?

The empath supposes it’s very pot calling the kettle black of him, but he can’t help but just stare as the lead singer comes out onto stage wearing a fitted black blazer decorated in fine silver and gold threading, black dress shorts, and a white button up underneath with a black tie on top of it all. His eye widens considerably as he (Dylan, he’s assuming) swaggers up to the mic, whipping his sunglasses off as he does. “Hello all you sexy, sexy people.” He murmurs into the microphone before his entire face lights up with a smile, the joy in him boundless.

There’s other people joining him now, a bored faced bassist wearing a simple white dress shirt rolled up at the sleeves and black pants, another male with a snapback and a weird combination of casual-athletic gear and dress clothes. He makes it work though, hell, the whole thing they’ve got going works for some reason. “I’m seeing some of my favorite people here.” He points right at the girl and she’s throwing her head back with a pleased laugh. “But a lot of you are new here, now don’t worry, we’re all gonna get to know each other real well by the end of the night. I’m gonna have to ask everyone to move in closer, cos we can’t have a real Planet Booty show without being up close and personal. That includes you, shorty.”

Dylan’s staring right at him from the stage and Sung flushes from head to toe at the unexpected attention, feeling more than just Dylan’s eyes on him in that moment. “None of that wallflower shit, you hear? We don’t operate that way here at Planet Booty. I better see you dancin’ later.” And then he has the gods damn audacity to wink right at him. “Alright, alright, enough of that! We’re here to have fun tonight, to love tonight, to sweat tonight.” A cheer goes up and the one in the hat is leaning over his keyboard and gods-

He really isn’t ready for whatever the hell this was.

It’s good. Better than good, it’s gods damned amazing. It’s hypnotically rhythmic and Sung can’t help but be drawn in by the pounding bass that begins to issue from the speakers. He draws up next to the blonde at the front of the stage and she smiles at him, nudging his side just so before mouthing a “just wait” at him.

And then Dylan looks right at him and starts singing…

…About ass.

“Your face!” She shrieks in delight as his mouth falls open. “Ugh, this is what I live for!!!” Without warning she wraps her arms around him and begins to gesture wildly at Dylan until he looks back over at them, eyes widening just so. Sung’s attempting to clamp his lips shut but by then it’s too late, he’s seen it all. Dylan’s entire face lights up and he’s barely suppressing a laugh between verses before he’s wheeling back over to his friend, their voices overlapping as the song goes on. “Let me give you the deets. See that’s Josh, and over there is Rob on the bass, and this song is called Junk in the Trunk.” She says it all so matter of factly over the speakers. “And you have seen nothing yet, my friend.”

What else can there be at this point? He really shouldn’t be questioning any of this given his penchant for high kicks and light up shoes and TWRP’s whole aesthetic, but Sung’s reeling, trying to make sense of whatever the hell it was that he was seeing, hearing, experiencing…

They’re halfway through the song when it happens. Dylan just hops off on stage left, mic in hand and blazer being thrown behind him with wild abandon, grabbing the closest person and just dragging them in until they’re hip to hip, chest to chest, body swaying with the beat as Josh starts to sing about having a good time.

“Is that normal?” He says over the music to his companion. She nods, looking absolutely Cheshire in that moment. Gods. He’s never felt so out of his element before. “Is this what you were telling me about?!”

“Not even close.” And Sung doesn’t even have time to react because he’s being pushed forward by her, right into Dylan’s personal space.

“See you finally decided to join.” Josh is still singing and Dylan’s got the mic away from his mouth, the first couple of buttons on his shirt undone, tie hanging about his neck loosely, taking in Sung’s sudden presence without breaking his stride. “You havin’ fun?”

Despite how lost he was, Sung supposes he is having fun in some sort of sense. And hadn’t that been the plan all along? He can’t help but manage a near breathless smile, his core taking to the excitement pouring off of Dylan, the pure electric energy that seems to thrum through him nonstop. “Attaboy.” Dylan murmurs in a fond voice, fingers grazing over his hip just so before he’s pulling away with a playful grin. For a moment Sung can only stand there in shock before his friend from before is pulling him back, propping her chin on his shoulder. “So…” She hums. “You know- the funny thing is that was like, the PG version of Dylan Germick.”

“PG?” He parrots back in a strangled voice.

“Just. You. Wait~”

It doesn’t take long either to see Dylan in his full glory either because it only takes three songs for the sweating frontman to strip down to just his dress shorts. He’s done everything from twerking on stage to sensually thrusting his trumpet at the crowd to grinding up against his mic stand and Sung swears his core is this close to melting out of his chest. Everyone’s a little drunk off the energy coursing through the room, their emotions smearing across his senses in a strange and unavoidable way. Poor Havve, he can’t help but think, the coherency of his own thoughts startling him. Hopefully he had already gone and put up a wall between them because the empath knows he’s not any good for it in his current state.

Somehow, at some point, Dylan’s finds his way to him once more in the crowd. He’s singing something but Sung could really care less because all he wants is to get closer to the other male, make it so there’s not even an inch of space between them. The human turns so his back is pressed up against Sung’s chest and it’s all too easy to put his hands on the other’s sweat slicked chest, knowing that’s exactly what Dylan wants in that moment without words. He rocks back and Sung’s hips cant forward until they’re both rolling against one another, Sung’s hands slipping down further and further until they’re working the human’s belt off, dragging it slowly one notch at a time.

There’s screeching and wolf whistles and all kinds of approval and amusement at the sight of it all but Sung’s not thinking about that. He’s thinking about how badly he wants the other in that moment. Gods, this was all kinds of fucked up but if Sung didn’t absolutely love it either. He’s pulling the belt off then and Sung can’t help but notice the way that Dylan practically purrs with the action of it. It takes everything he has to not just shove his hands down the front of the other male’s pants- Instead, he reaches back up with is free hand and guides Dylan’s own hand down until his fingers are brushing the button and he’s making a show of it too.

“Attaboy.” Sung whispers, unable to help himself, and Dylan’s stilling for just a moment before a chuckle of disbelief slides out of him.

“You lil’ shit.” He hisses back before he’s untangling himself away from Sung, throwing a pointed look over his shoulder before he’s returning to the stage. There’s a pause in the song where it’s all just instrumental and the entire time Dylan doesn’t take his eyes off of Sung as he works the zipper down.

And for a moment all of the crazy lust and pent up sexual need is forgotten because Dylan Germick is wearing booty shorts.

Bedazzled booty shorts, mind you.

The smile on Dylan’s face isn’t so pointed anymore as it is just genuine and unceasing, a beautiful thing that lights up his entire face. Sung’s returning it and in that moment he can’t help but think that this was meant to be. The fact that he was here tonight alone, that he had even heard of this performance in the first place… The Fates had a funny way of working like that.

He turns then to the girl from before, smile more shit eating than anything. “How was that for a newbie?” Sung says breathlessly. Her eyes are wide with disbelief but he can feel the approval pouring off her and it feels like a rite of passage. “Was that too much?” He says after a beat and her expression changes as her eyes screw up and she doubles over with a whooping laugh.

“It’s never enough with Dylan Germick!” She finally manages out and when Sung looks back up at the stage at the other male’s cocked hip, the fire in his eyes as he leans out to thank the stage, their eyes meet and he’s nearly bowled over by the need and want the other male feels in that moment. For skin on skin.

For something tactile and real.

Oh gods.

He’s grinning like a wolf as he begins to saunter off stage, hips twitching with each step, the shorts catching in the stage lights after the encore. “C’mon.” The crowd is breaking up and his new found friend is twining their arms, smiling up at him. “I’m buying you a drink.”

“But…” The word isn’t even audible as it passes his lips. But what, Sung? Whoever Dylan Germick was, whatever he was, he had gone out into the crowd and fooled around with just about everyone, not just you. And even if there had been something there it’s not like Dylan was just going to straight up pursue it. People just didn’t do that.

Besides, you’ve got nothing else better to do, do you?

He relents then and she’s giving a squeal of excitement, pulling him through the people, past the merch table and to the bar. “I can’t believe you just- you actually did that.” She’s saying as they sit down next to one another. “Someone’s a brave boy.” She jabs him a few times in the arm with her index finger.

“It just felt right.” He says with a sheepish smile as he ducks his head, hair falling over his visor. There’s something being slid his way and he can only pull a face when he smells the rubbing alcohol scent of vodka, but a free drink is a free drink, right? She’s holding her own out and Sung’s cocking his head just so. “Cheers?”

“To Planet Booty, and to being your sexy sweaty self.” She gestures with her glass. Sung clinks the glassware together and they’re both throwing back the drinks like they’re shots. “Oh God, that’s terrible! Jesus. What did you put in this?”

“It’s rail, sweetheart.” The bartender deadpans and the woman next to him curls her lip and rolls her eyes in response.

“Yeah well it’s shitty rail.” She huffs under her breath, her annoyance spiking. “But hey, if it gets the job done, right?”

“Right.” This is a nice cool down, he thinks, after everything that happened earlier on. The searing stare Dylan had pinned him with is becoming a pleasant memory, something like his own personal secret of sorts. The fun he had sworn he would have had been managed and it looked like he was making a new friend, something he never objected to. Tonight had been successful, tonight he had been daring, tonight he was happy.

“Right.” A voice drawls as someone steps between them.

“Dylan!” She shrieks and Sung’s stomach drops with it, the cup still held up to his face, partially obscuring his vision. “You sweaty bastard! Do not hug me if you’re sweaty, I swear if you hug me and you’re sweaty-! Remember last time?” “How could I not?” And just like that Dylan Germick is turning to him, putting a hand over both his shoulder and hers. “Me and Tess go back, way back. Context- she comes to a show in the middle of Bumfuck, Nowhere…”

“You don’t get to call anywhere Bumfuck when you’re from Indiana, Dylan.” She’s already got another drink and holding it up to her mouth, her eyes narrowed in silent judgement at the singer.

“Okay, listen, Indiana’s not that bad. Have you ever been to Indiana?” Sung doesn’t even get the chance to answer before Dylan’s continuing on. “Anyways, I see her and I’m like oh Tess is getting it. She’s fucking getting it tonight.”

“I’m screaming at him that I have a flight the next day and I’m not going to have the chance to shower and of course the bastard doesn’t care.” She pinches his arm and Dylan’s yelping in response, bumping his hip up against her chair with a warning look. “Just puts my face against his gross chest and drags it doooown.” She points her finger until it’s basically between her legs.

“All the way down town. See you need to employ that reverse psychology Tess. If you tell me not to, I’m gonna.”

Sung’s eye is wide behind his visor as he watches the two of them banter with such practiced ease. There’s a warmth there between them, a kinship of sorts. He basks in it, eye closing as a pleased smile touches his lips.

“Alcohol already gettin’ you?” A low voice says next to his ear and he’s jumping with it. Dylan’s close. As close as he was during the show. There’s an echo of what he had felt during the show and Sung’s core is greedy for it, running hot and bright under his shirt.

Fuck.

“A little.” He rasps out and Dylan’s lips curl at the corners just so. “You were great out there, by the way.”

“Me!?” Dylan crows and throws Tess a look. “Shorty, you stole the show. And my belt.” That hand on his shoulder feels like a brand and the empath hates how much he likes the feeling of the other male’s hands on him. “Did Tess tell you to do that?”

“Fuck no, I let him go in blind. He managed that all by himself.” She snorts into her drink. “Even I couldn’t believe it.”

“Well shit. You’re a fucking natural.” That hand is sliding down his bicep now and Sung can feel Dylan’s surprise when he finds the muscle there, followed by a growing interest that’s burning through him like wildfire. Shit. Shit shit shit. Maybe he should get another drink. He’s just about to say something about it when Dylan leans forward.

“Get us some shots.” He says to the bartender before throwing a look over his shoulder at Sung, almost feral. “I’m feelin’ Fireball.”

-

He’s always been a gods damned light weight.

He’s far from drunk but he’s not sober either. He’s a pleasant level of tipsy that makes his body feel loose, the kind that sweeps his inhibitions to some dark and forgotten corner for the night. Tess is slumped up on the bar, cackling wildly at some insane story Dylan’s recalling about the time they apparently went to the zoo.

“Josh would not shut up about the rhino for like, five hours following. Rob was gonna fucking kill him.” He slaps his hand on the bar and Tess howls back. “You just had to show him the rhino, didn’t you?”

“I’m getting him a plush. Don’t tell him. You-you too. You keep your pretty mouth shut.” Tess is wasted by this point and reaching over Dylan to touch his face. “Why… why you gotta wear this thing? Whuz the point? Are you legally blind? DID I MAKE A BAD JOKE EARLIER!? I said… I said you were… you went in blind.” She pulls away and puts her face on the bar again, groaning loudly. “Fuck!”

“Ah, no it’s… it’s just a personal choice.” He looks at Dylan then and the other’s head is cocked just so. He was being studied, he realizes a moment later. Dylan had been staring at him. Sung’s blushing and ducking his head, carding his fingers through his hands. “You know me, Cool Guy over here.”

“Well, does Cool Guy wanna help me get Tess back to her hotel?” It’s nearly 2 AM and almost everyone’s cleared out by this point from the bar. He nods and Dylan’s smiling in quiet thanks, his gratitude all kinds of soft against his senses. “Tess, you got your keys on you?”

“Fuck yeah I do.” She shoves a hand into her purse and comes up with two hotel keys, still not even looking up. “I walked!” She announces to the wood grain joyously.

“That’s nice, Tess.” Dylan’s giving a good natured roll of his eyes as he goes to her other side. “You got the other side, shorty?” Tess is just a few inches shorter than him so it’s easy enough to loop his arm around the girl to steady her. “There we go. Okay Tess, you ready?”

“Born ready!” She throws her head back. His own core got weird when he drank but it was even weirder feeling what drunk people felt. Still, at least he could tell she was having a good time, just drunk enough to be gone from the world but nowhere near ready to puke (thankfully.) The streets themselves are still warm for the earlier summer heat and complete deserted, not another soul but the three of them skirting under bright lamp light.

“So- I didn’t catch your name.” Dylan’s voice breaks the silence some time later as their shoes catch the concrete, causing Sung to look up and over at him. He had went and changed out of his sweaty clothes before he had hopped into their little group and now he was just in a v-necked t-shirt and a pair of form fitting jeans. “Unless you really do go by shorty, to which I have to say man, my intuition is good.”

He hesitates before throwing all caution to the wind. He’ll probably never see this guy again, and Tess is so far gone from them at this point. “It’s Sung.”

“Sung?”

“Mm hmm.”

“Past tense of sing? You’re telling me that’s your name?”

“There’s much worse names out there.” Sung says dryly and Dylan’s relenting with an easy, amused laugh which Tess copies unknowingly and drunkenly, causing them both to snort.

“I like it. It’s unique, like you.” Oh? He feels his cheeks heat because while Dylan’s words are easy and unbothered the intent behind them, the emotion that causes them to be spoken, is anything but. “You’re all kinds of special, you know that Sung? Never just had someone get into it like that.” He’s grinning that knife sharp smile of his again and it’s doing things to him. Terrible, awful things.

“Ha!” The laugh barks out of him awkwardly and into the summer night sky. “Tess was right, she didn’t tell me what to do, but she was giving me shit for being a newbie and I was like ‘oh I’ll prove her wrong.’” He looks down at her then and back up at Dylan. Her feet are dragging and her lids are heavy and the poor thing is this close to just falling asleep standing up. “…Should I… should I carry her?”

“Can you?” Dylan’s brow is inching up towards his hairline in incredulity.

“Oh, easily.” He hefts her up and she’s like feathers in his arms. “See?”

“Jesus, alright. I got a good feel on your muscles but-” He wipes a hand across his mouth and eyes Sung, his interest reaching a gods damn fever pitch. Sung’s flushing and readjusting his hold on Tess, causing her to murmur softly in her nearing sleep. “Let’s get this one home, yeah?” He manages in a tight voice.

Dylan finally drags his eyes away, putting them forward once more. “Yeah.”

Sung’s not quite sure what’s happening in those first few steps because it’s quiet and it’s almost strained but then Dylan starts to ask questions and they’re the kind that he can answer. What brought him out to the concert, had he heard them before, did you have a good time? At the last one he can’t help it. He tips his head towards the other male and stares in silence until Dylan’s giving a snort of amusement.

“I like to make sure.” He says in a soft voice and then he’s dropping it, but Sung can still feel it- the other questions and comments that want to follow that statement. Dylan’s pushing them back though, not away but to somewhere where they be brought up again later, when Tess isn’t here.

He gulps at that.

They reach the hotel and have a grand time explaining Tess’s current status to the night auditor at the front desk and within minutes they have her in her room on the bed, her jacket removed and the blankets pulled up to her chin. “She’s like an angel.” Dylan muses, only half joking. He reaches down then and brushes the hair back from her face. “You think she’ll be okay?”

He’s a interesting one, this Dylan Germick. The stage persona is so much, so in your face, but even then underneath it you could see this Dylan, soft spoken with so much love and care inside of him. He had leaned over the crowd at one point, talking about being true to yourself, to loving yourself, to living in the moment. It wasn’t some schlock that had just sprung from his lips to please the crowd. He had felt it with every word, every syllable and Sung had felt it all.

“She’ll be just fine.” Sung finally says. They’re friends. You didn’t need to be an empath to see it, to know it. Whatever circumstances that had brought Tess and Dylan together, they had been for good. “You going back to your place now?”

“Implying I’d come back to yours?” Dylan means to tease it, he’s sure of it, but something in his voice goes low and his stare becomes that much more in that moment.

“Ah, ha… I dunno how the guy’s would feel about that.” His throat feels horribly dry and he can’t get enough air in his lungs. “Got myself three other roommates.” They were between legs of their own tour and sometimes it was just easier staying on Earth rather than going back and forth.

“Sounds like a party.” They can’t be doing this here, in this poor girl’s room. He holds a finger up to his lips and jerks his chin at Tess before he’s pointing at the doorway. Dylan brings his own finger up to his lip and nods and they’re out into the hallway just like that. “Sung, before-”

Dylan goes very quiet and Sung has to stare up at him. He’s terribly tall, and terribly handsome, and everything about this isn’t quite right and yet everything feels right in this moment. “Was really good.” He supplies and Dylan’s giving a choked noise. “Not good?” He says moments later, only able to joke about it because despite Dylan’s incredulity at his words, his sputtering disbelief, there’s something there.

The same thing that’s been between them the whole night.

A spark, ready to explode into flame.

“God, no.” Dylan’s shoving his hair back from his face. “Holy shit, don’t even start to think that kind of nonsense. It was perfect, like you knew exactly…” The older male trails off and gives a huff of a sigh. “Listen, whatever the fuck it was, it was good.”

And? The question is moments from springing from his lips but he keeps them firmly pressed together, letting his core take in the trepidation pouring off the other male. Dylan looks down at the floor, releasing a low groan, before he’s leaning in and there’s barely an inch of space in between them. “I think I like you, shorty. I think I like you an awful lot.”

No one knew he was an alien here, no one could ever know what any of them actually were. There were laws in place to ensure these things but stupid Dylan Germick and his sparkling booty shorts and ridiculous mustache had him all sorts of twisted up and not caring about the consequences/

Gods, Havve was going to kill him.

“That’s good because I like you too.” He tries for low and confident, because that’s sexy right? But his voice comes out all kinds of strangled and tight and nervous and he’s quickly giving a choked laugh. “Oh, wow… Can I- can I get a redo?”

Dylan stares at him before he’s cupping his face and pressing their foreheads together, face turning red as he begins to hold his laughter back, but gods if it isn’t beautiful. Pure, unfiltered elation and bliss, and underneath it all an endearment that Sung’s not quite sure how he managed to cause in the other but he relishes in all the same.

“You are too much.” Dylan kisses the side of his face, right under his visor, and laughs against his flushed and freckled skin. Sung turns his head into it then and there’s just a breath between their lips. “Jesus, Sung.” He hears Dylan say.

“Dylan.” He breathes back, just as softly.

And they’re kissing.

It’s soft and careful even as Sung feels his back press up against the door to Tess’s room, the cool of the wood pressing through every inch of his back as Dylan holds him there. His hands find the front of Dylan’s shirt and he’s balling the fabric up in his fists, dragging Dylan that much closer. He wants to be as close as they were during that show, closer if possible.

There’s fingers in his hair and he almost doesn’t notice when the other starts to pull his visor off. He throws his head back hard and doesn’t even register the pain as it connects with the door, the near panic of it all drawfing it. “Visor stays on.” And later, what about your shirt? And yours ear too, currently covered by your hair but how easily could that be pushed aside? Dylan’s staring at him with hurt confusion and Sung’s caught between guilt and a little thing called a legal obligation.

The guilt wins out.

“…But it doesn’t have to if you don’t freak out.”

Dylan’s scoffing and rolling his eyes. “Sung, PB’s kind of about body positivity and about loving yourself so anything that you think is weird or wrong isn’t going to-” And as the other male is speaking his heartfelt words Sung decides it’s one of those things that you have to treat like a bandaid.

You just have to rip it off.

He pulls his visor off without warning and Dylan’s freezing up at the sight of it. His eye. He draws in a breath and the empath almost doesn’t react fast enough, his fingers just catching the scream that threatens to leave the human and holding it back. “You said you wouldn’t freak out!” Sung hisses and Dylan’s looking at him with two very wide, very human eyes.

A hand on his wrist then and Sung’s careful and slow as he removes his hand. “That was under the assumption that you were human!” Dylan hisses back and the dread is immediate. This was stupid. This was such a stupid, awful mistake…

But then the surprise fades and all that’s left is awe. “You’re like, literally out of this world.” Dylan whispers in wonder, those same hands that had framed his face moments before finding their way back. “What else?”

He can’t help it. He smiles. Sung pushes his hair back then and Dylan’s marveling at his pointed ear tips, touching the oh so carefully. You ain’t seen nothing yet, he wants to say, but he keeps quiet, throwing a few quick looks down the hallway before he’s pulling his shirt up. The light of his core shows up even now, faintly through the bandages that cover it. “Is that an Arc Reactor? Are you fucking Tony Stark?” Dylan’s voice is raising once and Sung’s shoving his fingers at his face again, shushing him furiously.

“Unfortunately no, I’m an empathetic cyclops in a band called Tupper Ware Remix Party.”

“Band!” Dylan chokes out and Sung can’t believe that’s what he takes from everything he’s saying.

“Really, not even questioning the name?” That was, oddly enough, the usual question they got more often than not. He’s pulling down his shirt and glancing down the hallway again surreptitiously before bringing his eye back to the astounded human. “Listen, Dylan… this is not public knowledge, at all. This is actually kind of insane and super illegal that I’m telling you all this, much less showing you.”

“So why?”

Great question. His mouth works, an odd sound issuing from the back of his throat as he tries to mentally process it. What made Dylan Germick so special? What made him worth the risk, the chance? All of that and more?

“Because I think I like you.” It leaves him in a rush. “I think I like you an awful lot.”

Dylan’s brows jump just so before his head drops, a low and amused laugh leaving him. “That’s the second time you’ve done that tonight.” Dylan says in a measured voice after a moment’s hesitation, his right arm bracing above Sung on the door, his left hand finding the empath’s chin. “Gone and used my own words against me.”

“You like it though.” A pause and he’s cocking his head, a slight grin coming to his face as he touches his core through his shirt. “I know, I can tell.”

“You-” Dylan says with a breathless laugh and before Sung can counter once more the human’s lips are on his again.

It’s so much more than the few kisses they had shared before. Dylan’s mouth slots over his and Sung can’t help but arch up into it. He can feel the other’s hands on his hips before they’re working their way up over his sides underneath his shirt and he’s moaning with it. “Dylan, we can’t.” He manages between kisses roughly.

“Now why?” Sung’s words are a challenge rather than a deterrent, causing a stubbornness to rise up in the other. Dylan’s leaning down then, breath hot against his neck before he bites the skin there. “Give me one good reason, shorty.”

“H-Hallway.” The word gasps out of him as Dylan begins to suck on the skin with the intent of marking him up. “Gods…” Another hickey just a few inches away from the other and he can feel Dylan grinning against his skin, wild and pleased.

“You wanna get a room? Cos I think at this rate we’ll just be kicked out for a noise complaint.” Dylan’s fingers are pressing into his ribs, creeping that much closer to his core. He’s giving a desperate laugh, knowing full well if Dylan touches it when he’s all strung out like this, he’ll lose it.

“So where?” There’s no stopping this now. Not when his own fingers are hooking into Dylan’s belt loops, not when he can feel his cock straining in his pants and Dylan’s own hardness pressing up against his thigh.

“Nothin’ can be easy, can it?” Dylan turns thoughtful for a moment and Sung wishes he could help the other brainstorm, he really does, but the human is tracing his fingers against his skin and it’s the most gods damned distracting thing in the world. “Now don’t go judging me.” He starts.

“Implying I haven’t this entire time.” Dylan’s snorts but Sung’s continues to push, nearly drunk off their shared joy. “What with the bedazzled booty shorts and the blazer and not to mention this…” He skims a finger across the other’s mustache.

“You oughta try it, you’d look good…” Dylan’s own fingers find his face and they’re outlining his cheekbones, the curve of his jaw, pausing when they reach his mouth. There’s a thumb then pressing down on his lower lip and Sung’s inhaling sharply at it. “But I think you look perfect just like this.”

“You were saying… earlier…?” He’s breathless with it, from the intensity of Dylan’s stare, from the heat pouring off of him, the desire there and the nearing desperation of wanting and needing Sung in that moment.

“I’ve got a car.” Dylan manages hoarsely. “Ain’t nothing special, but at the very least we don’t have to worry about anyone bothering us.”

Were you really going to do this? Fuck a near stranger in their car? He swallows thickly before he nods, pulling his visor back on. “Well, what’re we waiting for?” He grins, hoping to the gods that his voice doesn’t shake.

“The fuck if I know.” And Dylan’s pulling away to twine their fingers together and his excitement bolts through Sung’s spine and core, tingling down from the crown of his head to the tip of his toes. They can’t even wait, mouths finding one another as they fall into the elevator, Sung laughing uncontrollably as Dylan stumbles over himself, his own laugh bubbling out of him.

“What happened to all those sauve moves?” Sung says and Dylan’s giving him a dirty look with no menace behind it whatsoever. “Could it be, Dylan Germick is a big huge dork?”

“Could it be…” A pause, they go down a floor. “I…don’t know your last name, oh my God.”

“I don’t… I don’t have one.” It’s a bit jarring given that they’re this close to banging but he’s laughing it off, being light hearted about it. “But if you want a full name, you can call me Doctor Sung.” That’s his title, after all.

“Doctor!” Dylan’s eyes go wide. “You’re telling me you’re a bonafide PhD holding, medically trained porno stereotype?”

“Porno stereotype!?” Sung pushes at his chest and Dylan’s pulling him closer, peppering the side of his face with easy-light kisses. “Never mind, on second thought, I don’t think this is going to work.”

“I put that part at the end for a reason! You’re a talented man, Doctor Sung.” His voice dips dramatically and Sung’s being pulled close once more, their lips brushing each other’s just as the doors open up again. “After you.” Dylan’s releasing him, holding his arm out with a beautiful smile.

Gods.

Gods damn.

It takes a lot to nod a pleasant good bye to the night auditor, especially when Dylan sneaks up behind him and begins to push him out the door, tickling his sides as he does. “Bastard!” Sung yells when they’re back outside in the humid night air. It’s 3 AM and his face hurts from laughing and kissing and he wouldn’t have it any other way. He can tell it’s the same for Dylan too, his cheeks flushed red and his laugh lines undeniable as his eyes crinkle up with a loud laugh.

“Now c’mon, don’t be like that.” How easy it is to let the other grab him and manhandle him. Gods, he wants it, likes it. His own hands are sliding to Dylan’s back, down until they’re tucking into his back pockets and he’s able to squeeze the other’s ass through his jeans. “Oh, okay, now this is a good Sung.”

“Yeah?” Are they even going to get to the damn car at this rate? He doubts it, but they still ought to try…

“All up in my biz, getting handsy, looking so damn good.” Dylan leans in and Sung sighs into their next kiss. “Gettin’ me all worked up without even having to try.”

“Dylan…” His lips are numb at this point and his core feels like molten fire in his chest. “C’mon.”

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” His fingers carding through his hair, grazing past his ears and down the column of his throat. How did humans do it? Feel so much? Experience so much? His eye is rolling back and the realization hits that this isn’t even anything. This isn’t even skin on skin. This is just them fooling around, not even foreplay.

Holy shit.

“The car, please.” He groans. “I’m gonna die…”

“Dramatic.” Dylan muses as he pulls away. “You think you can manage for another ten minutes, Doctor?”

Can he? He leans up to nip at Dylan’s bottom lip before he manages a tight nod. “Then let’s go.”

Sung’s nervous that ten minutes to the car means ten minutes to reconsider, to question what he was doing. It was like when he had been carrying Tess. It’s not though, not when he can feel the lust pouring off Dylan the entire time, the growing desperation.

Ten minutes passes by in an instant.

The car is parked behind the bar still and Dylan’s pressing his hands together in front of his face, eyes closing. “Thank you for not being towed.” He whispers to the sky. “God is a woman and she is good to me, Sung.”

“Not even a ticket.” He teases lightly as he comes up to the other’s side. “She’s really looking out for you.”

“She brought us together tonight, so yeah, I’d like to think so.” Dylan’s spinning the keys lazily around his finger, lips pulling at the corners as he smiles at Sung. He’s leaned up against the car and he looks so gods damned good. “Is that what you would say up in space?”

“We uh, we’d say it’s the Fates. One of those ‘everything happens for a reason’ things.” Dylan’s putting a hand on the nape of his neck and his eyes sliding closed at how good it feels, how right.

“You seem a lil’ too spontaneous for that kind of shit, shorty.” Dylan’s pressing a kiss to the crown of his head as the lock unclicks. The sound echoes out in the empty parking lot, deep inside Sung at what it implies. “…You still good?”

“Just a little nervous, I’ve never…” A pause. “Do we even have the right stuff?” Gods, he sounds so inexperienced when he says it like that. He gives an embarrassed noise and glances away, hugging himself self consciously.

“Yeah I’ve got stuff in the glovebox. You never know when the opportunity will arise.” Dylan’s turning him so they’re facing each other. “I do need you to tell me if this isn’t something you’re comfortable with though.”

Oh, he means so well. He gives a short laugh and covers his face. “I’m just nervous, I’ve never-” He’s pushing his visor up his head, hating how he can feel how flushed his cheeks are.

“Like, never never?” Dylan picks up on it right away, thankfully. He’s blushing harder now, nodding furiously. “Oh, oh wow. Okay. Fuck, that’s okay! Surprising but okay.”

“Surprising?” Sung manages out in a weak voice and Dylan’s nodding earnestly.

“You’re good looking and funny and very genuine. I’m surprised you haven’t been scooped up before this, shorty.” Dylan’s pulling his hands away, a comforting noise leaving him when Sung blanches. “Don’t start acting shy now.”

“It’s a lot.” Sung finally says and Dylan’s nodding, leaning in close.

“I know, and that’s why I’m gonna take good care of you. Shame it’s gotta be in a car. Would love to take my time with you…” Oh, oh that brings up a slew of emotions in Dylan, all of them tinged with a sensuous heat. “But I don’t think either of us can wait for that though, can we?”

No, no they can’t. The nerves are sliding away as he’s remembering how eagerly he had touched Dylan in front of who knows how many people, how easy it was to get along with the other, how good each kiss they had shared had felt. He’s circling his arms around Dylan’s neck and Dylan’s giving a pleased purr as he follows the action. “Please.” He whispers with a desperation he’s never felt in his life. It’s nothing and everything to him in that moment- in the large scheme of things it’s just two bodies becoming one, it’s something that happens every day, but this is Dylan and he really likes the other and despite virginity being held up on a stupidly high pedestal there really is something crazy about the fact that he’s finally going to lose his after twenty five years.

“How can I say no when you go and ask me like that?” Dylan says against his lips and Sung’s losing himself just like that.

He finds himself again when he hears the car door closing behind Dylan. Leather seats, Sung notes absently. He can’t really take inventory of anything else because the human’s got his hands under his shirt, pushing his shirt up without a moment’s hesitation. “Dylan.” The other’s name gasps out of him, back arching up with it.

“Am I allowed…?” A finger catching the underside of the wrappings on his core. Sung hates how desperately he’s nodding, a high laugh bubbling out of him as Dylan begins to work it all off. “Oh, wow… this is… can I touch it?”

“If you want this to end right now, f-feel free to.” Sung manages shakily and Dylan’s eyes go wide. “It’s just… it’s how the whole empath thing works. Takes it all in…? Processes it? Listen… p-point is, it’s overstimulated right now, sensitive…” He glances away.

“I fucking love this space shit.” Dylan breathes out and Sung manages a choked laugh. “D-do you have like, a weird space dick?”

“NO!” Sung yells loudly, jerking his knee up to catch Dylan’s side. “I’m not Phobos!”

“Who!?”

“MY FRIEND. THIS ISN’T THE POINT. I DON’T WANT TO TALK ABOUT PHOBOS’S DICK RIGHT NOW.”

“Oh my God.” Dylan puts his face against his shoulder, his whole body shaking with loud and unapologetic laughter. Sung’s laughing then too and beating his fists down on Dylan’s back. “Great now I’m going to meet your friends and that’s gonna be the first thing I think about.”

“Oh gods, shut up!” Sung groans. “You’re killing the mood. You’re killing me!”

“Alright, alright. Let’s try this again.” He sits up and his head hits the roof of the car, causing Sung to give a snort of amusement. “Gonna just uh, grab the stuff.”

“Mmm hmm.” He’s getting a face full of Dylan’s ass and he’s shoving the other forward into the front of the car, laughing even harder now. “You’re doing this on purpose!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Dylan backs up and Sung’s laughing even harder. “Listen, you were at the show, you know that this is just what happens when you’re around me.”

“We get it, you have a nice ass!” Sung brings his hand down on it and Dylan’s casting a look over his shoulder, brows arched and lips pulled into a smirk. “Stop! You’re awful! Dirty and awful and-”

“You love it.” Dylan’s back between his legs, looking all to pleased with himself with a line of condoms and lube in one hand. Sung’s eye rounds just so and for a moment Dylan softens, his cockiness dissipating. “Don’t look so worried now…”

“I’m not just- just nervous… But if anyone’s gonna make sure I get taken care of, it’s Planet Booty’s frontman Dylan Germick.”

Dylan gets adorably embarrassed at that but he plays it off with a scoff and a playful roll of his eyes. Still, Sung knows, and it causes a warm smile to come to his features. “Now what’s that look for?” Dylan squints at him.

“You’re cute.” He says simply.

“Handsome.” Dylan counters.

“Both?” Sung offers.

“I’ll take it.”

Dylan’s laughing against his throat and his shirt’s coming off just like that. His own hands are pulling at the bottom of the human’s, desperate to feel that skin once more. “God damn.” Dylan shudders when Sung’s hands accidentally brush across his stomach, right below his ribs. Without warning their crotches are pressed up against each other and it’s not even funny how fast he gets hard again. Dylan takes notice, a low chuckle sliding out of him. “Someone excited.”

“Shut up.” He’s throwing the shirt into the front seat and running his hands up and down the other’s chest, thrilling at the feel of Dylan’s pounding heart through his skin. “You’re one to talk.”

Dylan rolls his hips and Sung’s jerking violently at the sensation. “Yeah? That feel good?” Dylan’s voice pitches low as he repeats the action and the empath is whining with it. “Oh baby, that’s nothin’.”

He knows that but it feels so good. He’s got his bottom lip caught between his teeth, eye screwed up as a heavy flush spreads across his cheeks. “So sweet.” He hears Dylan murmur fondly. He can’t manage any kind of response, his hips rocking desperately in order to feel more friction between the two of them. “You really want it, don’t you?” Now there’s fingers touching upon the hickies at his throat and then sliding down, circling just outside where the rim of his core is and the light of it flickers, filling the car with a warm, bright light.

“Dylan.” He gasps out. His long digits are sliding down further and further until they’re reaching the button and zipper of his jeans. “Oh gods, don’t stop.”

“Wasn’t planning on anytime soon.” Dylan dragging his zipper down oh so slowly and Sung’s arching his lower half into it, a weak laugh leaving him. Gods, this is insane, this is really happening… “You sure you’ve never done this before?”

“Just… just doing what feels right.” What felt natural. Dylan’s hands frame his hips and Sung can’t help the shuddering jump that he issues when the human’s thumbs press into his inner thighs. “Dylan.”

“I don’t think I’m ever gonna get tired of hearing you say my name. Just watching your pretty lil’ mouth say it does things to me.”

“When… When are you going to start doing things to… to me?” Sung finally chokes out. Dylan stares at him with wide eyes, his surprise causing the empath to manage a weak laugh. “It’s a legit question.”

“Yeah, yeah it is.” Suddenly Dylan’s hand is flush against his hard on and Sung can’t even believe the noise that issues from him in response. “…Remember how I talked about us getting a noise complaint, shorty?” Oh gods. Dylan’s jerking him off through his boxers, grinning in a pleased manner the entire time. “Here I’m thinking I’m going to be the problem…”

He’s panting now, trying to stifle those moans that Dylan’s calling him out on (while also being all too eager to wring them out of him.) Just like that the other male is pulling his boxers down and oh-

Oh he’s sucking him off.

It’s a fluid motion that should be impossible (but that may just be the inexperience and his lack of knowledge on these things.) Dylan makes it look so easy though. He’s on his knees between Sung’s legs and he’s got his cock halfway in his mouth, tongue working the underside just so.

Sung arches off the leather with a loud gasp, pushing his dick further into Dylan’s mouth, nearly sobbing at the perfect wet heat of it. Dylan’s huffing and it could very well be a laugh but his mind is too far gone at this point to make sense of anything. He doesn’t even hear Dylan snap open the cap of the lube, too distracted by how Dylan’s bobbing his head just so, tongue circling the head. The other male pulls off and smirks down at him and Sung hates the desperate noise that leaves him in response, a drawn out whine of need that has no right being something that he can even manage.

“You like that?” He says, his tongue passing over his bottom lip as he cocks his head towards Sung. He gives an exasperated sigh at that and Dylan’s snorting in response, making a show of how he pours the lube out into his other hand. “Kay, try to relax. Tell me if it feels bad, or even if it feels just weird.”

Sung’s not even sure how he’s going to manage words at this point but he nods. A slick finger prods his entrance and he’s tensing without meaning to before giving Dylan an apologetic look. “S’okay, just trust me. We’ll take it nice and slow.” He presses it in and gods, that feels weird, but not terrible. He closes his eye and lets out a deep breath, trying to follow Dylan’s earlier suggestion.

Relax.

He gives a startled noise when the second finger slips into him but Dylan’s soothing it away with kisses against his inner thigh. “Doin’ so good.” He feels the words more than he hears them, spoken against his skin. “So good Sung. Gonna take me so nice.” The fingers are moving and it’s starting to feel kind of good, especially when he starts to scissor and curl them. He gives a choked moan when he brushes up against something. Prostate, his mind supplies a moment later, playing catch up. That’s your prostate, Sung.

Dylan’s tongue is pressing up against the underside of his cock as he begins to work three fingers into him now and Sung can’t even try to stop the slew of choked noises that escape him with each angled thrust of the human’s fingers. “Dylan. Dylan, Dylan, Dylan…” He chants. “Please.”

“Yeah?” Dylan says in a thick voice and Sung looks at him finally, eye widening when he sees how he’s gone and undone the front of his own jeans, one hand shoved down the front of his underwear. Gods, that’s hot. “Sorry, couldn’t help myself.” He manages a weak chuckle.

“Don’t apologize, just-” He worries his bottom lip between his teeth and shifts his hips desperately without meaning to. Dylan’s eyes follow the entire motion, dragging down from his face all the way down to line of his erect cock. “I don’t know how many times I have to beg for it.”

“Not anymore.” He’s shimmying out of his jeans and tossing to the front with the rest of their clothes. “Just gotta be patient for one more moment.”

He doesn’t want to be but he gets it, especially when he hears the wrapper ripping in the silence that follows. Safe sex practices seem so mundane in the face of all this, the steamed up car windows and his own breathlessness, but thank the gods Dylan knows what he’s doing. “Alright, alright. Hey.” Dylan’s leaning over him then, brow knitted with concern. “We’re gonna take it real slow, even more than before.”

Do we have to? He barely bites back the question, nodding shakily instead. He misses the feeling of Dylan’s fingers inside of him and the moment he feels the other’s cock pressing up against his entrance he’s shifting his hips just so, desperate to have something more.

Dylan’s right though, going slow is what Sung needs in that moment. He’s thicker than his three fingers and he swears he can feel each inch push into him. “Got no right feelin this damn good.” He hears Dylan whisper above him. “God damn, Sung.”

For a moment it’s just the two of them covered in a fine sweat, Dylan leaned into him with his hand braced on the headrest awkwardly, Sung’s legs bunched up and around his sides. “You feel good too.” He sighs out as his hips move of their own accord, pushing further down, taking more of Dylan inside of him. There’s a subtle ache there but he’s not focusing on that, instead letting his core take in everything the human was feeling in that moment. So much. It was a barely checked anticipation, eagerness, lust and desire, and then past all of that until he finds the care and concern there.

Dylan moves his hips and Sung’s coming back to reality, gasping as Dylan pulls back onto to fuck back into him. Good, it felt so good. He’s giving a weak noise as his legs tighten around the other in a mindless attempt to drag him closer. Dylan swears in response and moves one hand to grab at his hip, helping guide the motion of his frantic thrusts. “Like that, s-slow, fuck.”

They find a rhythm that’s all kinds of right. It’s just like earlier, Sung reading the exact things that Dylan wants in that moment, their bodies taking to it so naturally. “You’re killing me.” Dylan says as Sung’s hands skim up his chest, palms on his throat and fingers playing with the hairs at the nape of his neck. He slides up the leather some and Dylan’s really crowding over him, spreading his legs even further apart. “F-fuck…”

He’s babbling on about how Dylan can’t stop, how he doesn’t want him to, about how good it feels. It’s falls out of him in a desperate slew and pitches higher with each frantic thrust. The whole car smells like sweat and sex and it’s not even funny how the sound of skin hitting skin turns him on. “Ride… w-wanna… wanna ride you.” He gasps out, causing Dylan to pause for a moment.

“Wha…”

“Y-you heard me.” He gives a desperate little laugh. “Wanna ride you. Gotta just… c-change positions…”

And they manage. Dylan has to pull out and it gets a bit awkward for a handful of moments but sometime later he finds himself in the human’s lap, his cock teasing against his entrance once more. “What’s causin’ this?” Dylan muses. He looks a whole different kind of wrecked than what Sung had seen at the end of the performance earlier. It’s flushed cheeks and an unfocused stare, all accented by the way he rocks his hips just so, causing his dick to rub up against Sung’s backside.

“Dunno.” And really, he doesn’t have a reason except for the fact that it seemed like it would work better like this. And it does, he realizes the moment Dylan slides back in, work better. It’s more natural like this in the cramped car, his own smaller stature causing him to not bump up against the hood of the car, his legs braced on either side of Dylan allow for the other man to grab at his thighs with a crazed desperation as they find their pace once more. “B-but it feels, nnngh, it feels real fuckin’ good.”

“Oh I bet. I bet you feel all kinds of good right now. Are you close?” A hand on his dick, working the length eagerly. Oh gods. His mouth finds Dylan’s and he’s kissing the other, sloppy and desperate, knowing he’s awfully close. “Can I touch you?”

“Y-you… you are?” His head lolls back with the statement and he hears Dylan laugh. “Huh?”

“Here.” He circles just around the rim of his core and Sung jolts with it before he gives a high keening noise of need. “Poor thing, all strung out and desperate, yeah? You’re so fuckin’ good, Sung. Holy fuck.” He leans in, fingers posed over his sternum. “Tell me when I get to see you again.”

“Whu… what…?” He can’t make sense of the statement right now but he swears the other’s implying they’re going to meet again, someway, somehow. “I don’t…”

“I’m not letting you get away, shorty. Besides, I still gotta hear your music.” How can he be calm, managing a near breathless but still complete conversation like this. “So tell me…”

“I don’t… I don’t know…” Sung chokes out and Dylan gives a disappointed hum, fingers inching away. “Dylan, I-I can’t… oh my gods, I can’t…fuh-focus…”

“Next week. Say it’s a date.”

“You are not asking me out a date when you- Oh! W-when you fuck me!” Sung hits his shoulder but Dylan’s really grinning now, his thrusts going slow and measured, causing the empath to groan weakly. “Dylan.”

“Say it.”

“F-fine! Fine it’s a date!” Who cares what he has going on, who cares what everyone will say. Fuck it. Dylan’s smiling at him and he really does like the other and besides…

They still had to do this the right away, after all.

“Gods, please, Dylan.” He presses his head against the human’s and one hand braces on his hip, helping angle the thrusts deeper and harder, and the other hand…

The other hand is brushing up against his core.

He comes without warning, his entire body jumping with the action, bending dangerously but gods if it doesn’t feel good. There’s cum all over his stomach and Dylan’s chest and he can only stay in place as Dylan continues to fuck him through his own orgasm, his own groans becoming shorter and more frantic until finally he follows suit.

“I can’t believe…” Sung says breathlessly, his arms still thrown around the other male’s neck, his forehead coming forward again to rest upon Dylan’s. “You really did that.”

“Fucked you?” Dylan’s just as breathless, his chest heaving with exertion. “Or asked you out.”

“Both.” He’s laughing without warning and Dylan’s joining him moments later. “Both! Holy shit!”

“What can I say, I think I like you, Doctor Sung.” Dylan’s hand is on the back of his neck, drawing him in closer, his lips just brushing over his, causing his core to flicker happily. “I think I like you an awful lot.”

[sittingoverheredreaming]

On the Night of the Ball

My entry for the prompt party, Harumichi Cinderella! Mine is a modern take, about 2600 words. Enjoy!

The phone rang just as Haruka had settled into the couch for the night. She untangled from the blanket and dove for the old landline, the long braid of her hair smacking into her back. The answering machine was in her mother’s room, and it was best not to disturb her.

“Hello?”

“So you know how I bet you fifty bucks I’d get you to go to the Halloween dance?”

“Mina, the dance is in an hour—“

“And I’ll call off the deal if you come over right now.”

Haruka sighed. “So I can either stay in pajamas and get fifty bucks, or drag myself out and get nothing?”

Mina clucked into the phone. “You can either stay in, have me come make a scene and pay me fifty bucks you don’t have when I get you to the dance, or you can come over here and not have to worry.” There was a pause, Haruka knew she was twirling her hair with her free hand. “How about this, if you come over, I’ll still pay up if you don’t go. And I’ve got the movie butter popcorn you like.”

“Fine, Mina. But I’m not changing my clothes.”

“Didn’t ask you to, buddy.”

Haruka slipped on her shoes without leaving a note. Her mother would assume she was at Mina’s, if she even noticed. And unless Haruka did something wrong, she didn’t notice.

They lived mercifully close, Mina just a few blocks away in a marginally nicer house. Her mother would be out, and father home, but it amounted to them being alone anyway. Haruka tucked the loose strands of her hair back as she got to the door. It was never easy to know what to expect with Mina. This could end with Mina literally dragging her to the dance, or it could be a wild plan that mysteriously ended in the school gymnasium, and whoops, look at that Haruka, you’re at the dance. Haruka gripped the door knob and resigned herself to losing the bet in a night of misery.

Mina stood in the foyer, dressed in a long robe she must have found at a thrift store. “Dahling, you made it,” she said in her best old-movie actress voice, leaning against the wall with a hand on her head. “I was beginning to worry.”

“What’s the plan, Mina?”

“Don’t look so resigned!” She smiled, big and devious. “I’m going to give you the night of your life.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Haruka shoved her shoulder as they filed down the hall to Mina’s bedroom. “You say that every night.”

“And compared to how you’d be without my stunning influence, it’s true.” Mina hopped onto her bed, smushing several stuffed animals. “But tonight is different. I’ve been saving up tips from the salon to pull this off.”

A new dread settled in Haruka’s stomach. “Mina, you shouldn’t waste your money—“

“You say now, having been willing to rob me dry in a bet.” Her eyes flashed, she knew she had Haruka. “I’ve still got my wages in the move-out fund, don’t you worry. But tonight’s not about what we need, it’s about what I want. And I want you to have a good time.”

“Then why can’t we stay in and watch movies?” Haruka did not do dances—not the dresses, not the shoes, not the hair, and certainly not the dancing, not where everyone could see her.

“Because we do that all the time. Tonight should be different.” Mina cracked her knuckles. “See my plan through, and then you can decide, okay? If you don’t like it, we’ll stay in and I’ll see what I can return to the store tomorrow.”

“Fine.”

Mina jumped up and grabbed Haruka’s wrist. “We’ll start with your hair.”

“Hey, wait, no. Off-limits. You promised when you started at the salon—“

“That I’d never use you as a guinea pig for styling.” Mina yanked her into the bathroom. “I’m not styling your hair, Haruka, I’m cutting it.”

“What?”

“I’m cutting your hair.” She pulled out a clipper set. “That’s always been part of the problem, hasn’t it?”

“I…” Haruka pulled on the end of her braid. “My mom…”

“Tell her it’s for a costume, and if she kicks you out anyway, you’ll stay here.” Mina softened and put her hands on Haruka’s shoulders. “Halloween is about being whatever and whoever you want to be. I, for one, want to be a slutty, slutty vampire, forever young and beautiful. You want to be something else. You can try it, for tonight, and if it’s not right you say it was all play and let your hair grow and no one will bat an eye.”

Haruka looked in the mirror. She wanted it. Always had. Her mother had caught her as a child, cutting her hair with the kitchen scissors to look like a boy’s. She had not been allowed anything more than a trim ever since. “Do you think it would look okay? You don’t think I’d look too…” She meant to say boyish, but couldn’t. Part of her wanted that, too. Not to be a boy,  but to look and exist in that space she’d rarely seen occupied, of being a different sort of woman.

“This might not be the right thing to say, buddy, but I think you might look kind of…” Mina stretched back, forcing nonchalance, “well, kind of handsome.”

Haruka bit her tongue. She leaned closer to the mirror, covered the start of her braid with her hands, a poor approximation of how it might look. “I wanna do it.”

“Okay.” Mina pulled out scissors and held them to the base of the braid. “Ready?”

Haruka took a deep breath. “Ready.”

The scissors snipped, hacking through, once, twice, three times, and – thump! The braid fell to the tile like a dead animal. The bob of Haruka’s remaining hair fanned around her face. Her head felt light, the smallest motion made easier and bigger without the weight of the braid. Mina trimmed it shorter, then switched to the clippers.

“This might tickle some.”

Just the sound as she turned it on sent shivers up Haruka’s back. It vibrated the air with a magic she’d lusted after through barber shop windows. Mina ran it up her head from her neck, and Haruka had to fight to keep still. She couldn’t mess up her chance to look how she dreamed.

Slowly more hair fell to the floor in feathery clumps, until Mina turned off the clippers and dusted Haruka off. Haruka tried not to cry—the mirror now showed a woman standing tall even in her giant hoodie, hair just long enough to be fluffy on top but shaped on the sides. “Mina…” she swallowed hard. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet, buddy. We’re only half done.”

Haruka had no more words of protest or question. Mina led the way back to her room and threw open her closet.

Haruka’s breath caught as she pulled out a suit.

“I can’t promise it will fit great, men’s sizing isn’t the same. But, you know, I tried and it should be close.” She rummaged through her drawers and pulled out a brilliant navy tie and a matching masquerade mask.

“This is too much, I can’t accept…”

“If this is a money thing, Haruka, don’t worry. I’ve been planning this long enough that I had time to get good deals.” She opened the suit jacket to reveal a big red stain on the lining. “Somehow, this has been in Goodwill for a long time, even though they insist it’s only ketchup.”

Haruka laughed in spite of her awe. “I ever tell you you’re too good to me?”

“I think the words you’re looking for are ‘Thank you Mina, you’re the best and I’ll never doubt your judgement again.’”

“Thank you, Mina.”

Minako rolled her eyes. “Now, I’m going to change into my vampire dress, and give you a moment. We’ll have to leave in a few.” She grabbed her costume and vacated to the bathroom.

Haruka ran her hands along the suit sleeves. She’d worn men’s clothes before, flying under the wire with hoodies and tee-shirts that weren’t great but kept her from wanting to crawl out of her skin. This was something else entirely. She rubbed at the base of her neck, where her braid had been replaced with fuzz. She’d enter the dance a different person from the one who’d left school that day. Even if it was only for tonight, she’d be the woman she’d always dreamed of.

Slowly, she pulled off her sweatpants, then her hoodie. She slid on the pants, happy to find them only slightly too short. She stole a pair of black socks from Mina’s drawer to hide it. The shirt, on the other hand, was long, but tucked in it made no difference. Haruka pulled on the jacket slowly, suddenly worried it would make it all farcical, she’d be the ordinary gangly girl, dressing up like someone she wasn’t. But it settled onto her shoulders, tight but not too restrictive, and she turned to Mina’s full-length mirror with bated breath.

It didn’t fit perfectly. But it wasn’t glaring, and she looked… real. Or she felt real. She couldn’t think of how to say it. She fumbled with the tie until Mina came back in.

“Damn, buddy, you clean up nice.”

Haruka chuckled, then choked into tears. “Will you help me? I don’t know—“

Mina took the tie and stood behind her. “Now, you be sure to tell everyone I’m very good with my hands.” She smoothed Haruka’s collar and centered the knot. “The ladies are gonna eat their hearts out.”

“Do you think…” She hadn’t allowed herself to think too much about anyone who might be at the dance, committed as she had been to not going. But there was the girl, from homeroom, who’d sometimes caught her eye, and…

“Drag your gay ass back to earth now, buddy, you can either dream or make it happen. If we don’t leave, we’ll be much more than fashionably late.” She pulled the mask on Haruka’s head and they set out together into the night.

The gym was pulsing and packed when they arrived. The only lights came in flashing colors and through the door to the hall. Haruka pulled at the ends of her jacket.

Mina rubbed her back. “Don’t worry buddy, you’re gonna be great.”

“Nice suit, bro!” A footballer called as he passed.

Haruka swallowed. “They don’t recognize me.”

“Drastic haircuts and masks will do that. You okay?”

“Yeah I just… I feel different, too.”

Mina smiled. “Be who you wanna be, Haruka.” She paused. “Split up or stay together?”

Haruka scanned the crowd, looking for the green hair of homeroom girl. “Can we… Can I try being on my own?”

“Spread your gay little wings, buddy. You can find me if you need me.”

 -----

Michiru wondered sometimes why she attended dances. Homecoming and prom she understood—they were appearances, she would be crowned Queen and have her picture in the papers, and her family would have one more thing to brag to their friends about. But the mid-year frivolities… She sighed and nodded as Rei chewed out a boy for asking her to dance. Why Rei came was perhaps a bigger mystery-- though she faced a different side of the same pressures as Michiru, she was less apt to playing along. She knew Senator Hino oft wished he’d had a son, so that his child might court the Kaioh prodigy rather than compete with her. That Rei would have better luck as she was was lost on him.

Michiru supposed the night would go as it always did—accept a dance from her homecoming king, and then a few from those who might be her match for prom. Perhaps it all came down to training, the sweaty gym was the young version of a high society gala, the attendees not yet skilled in hiding their crude underbellies.

But then someone caught her eye. At first it seemed a boy in a sharp costume, going for a formal masquerade rather than any of the silliness others sported. But then she noticed the slight curve of chest and hip, the uncertainty in movement, the charming line of the chin.

It was a girl, and a girl the way the partners of Michiru’s dreams were girls. Their eyes met through her mask. There was something familiar, though Michiru had never met anyone like her before. She rose from her seat on the bleachers, not bothering to let Rei know where she as going. She needed to know the stranger. She needed to meet this woman.

As if on cue, the dj announced the first slow song of the night.

“Um, hi,” the other girl said as Michiru drew close.

Michiru could feel her nervousness. There was something endlessly charming about it. “Hello.”

“Would you, well, would you like to dance with me?”

“I would.”

The butch’s hand was sweaty as she took Michiru’s, her fingers shaking slightly. Michiru guided her other hand to her waist. As their eyes met again, close enough to feel each other’s breath, Michiru felt a familiarity she hadn’t expected.

“We’ve met, haven’t we?”

“Sort of.” She flushed red under her mask.

Michiru thought of the tomboy in homeroom, blushing whenever the teacher called on her, playing with her long hair like she wanted to disappear. Michiru had thought of her, looked at her, more than she cared to admit. They’d sort of met, hadn’t they? Having never spoken, but seeing each other every morning… Michiru ran her hand along the edge of the girl’s hair, wondering how recently it had been cut. “I don’t want to be wrong about who you are.”

“Don’t guess.” Her eyes widened, like hearing the wrong name might break her. “I think… Monday, if you want to find me, you’ll be able to. And if you don’t, it’s okay.”

I’ll want to find you. But Michiru said nothing and sank into the girl for the rest of the song. She could feel their heartbeats mix in their fingertips, the other girl’s pounding hard even as she got more confident in her movements.

“Tell me something that isn’t your name,” Michiru said finally as the music faded into another DJ announcement.

“Um. My favorite color is blue, which I know isn’t original, but it’s nice.” Michiru nodded for her to keep going. “And… I like flowers, but not how people perceive liking flowers. Besides right now, running is about the only time I really feel good.” She blushed again, and swallowed hard. “And maybe this goes without saying, but in case it doesn’t, I’m… I like girls. And I am a girl.”

Michiru stepped into what little space remained between them. “I have one more question.”

The girl swallowed again. “Okay.”

“Can I kiss you?”

Her eyes went wide, but she nodded. Michiru stood on tip toe and, gently as she could, placed her lips on hers. For a moment, the whole world was still, narrowed down to the two of them.

Michiru rose a hand to the girl’s face as she pulled away. “I want to know who you are.”

“I think you’ll be disappointed.”

“I don’t.” Though she wondered—if it wasn’t the girl she’d been watching, would she be? “Whoever you are, I want to see you again.”

“Well. If that’s true, you’ll see me at school. And if-- if you still want to… you can ask me then.” She took Michiru’s hand and kissed her knuckles. “I think I should leave. This… I want to keep this night beautiful.”

Before Michiru could protest, she was gone, taken from Michiru’s sight in the crowd of bodies.

She closed her eyes, committing every second to memory. Come Monday, she’d find the girl.

[midnightartemis]

One Night, Last Night: Chapter Fourteen

Mature/NSFW- See AO3 for warnings/tags/ect

Rey stared at herself in the absurdly large and ornate body-length mirror of the guest bedroom. Ben had taken her hand and led her up to their room - yes, their own room (which was not necessary given the size of the house)- and left her with a pile of clothes and a heated look. Ever since they… came to terms with each other that night, her dreams and fantasies had been filled with nothing but Ben. It was like she’d been kicked into overdrive. Just the thought of sharing a bed had her whole body on edge.

Even if she was about ready to kill him.

Because she looked ridiculous.

Somehow from somewhere, Ben had managed to produce a purple polo, tan pants, and knee-high boots. She was fairly certain they were old clothes of Leia’s and that just the shirt was worth more than the yellow summer dress she had dug out of her closet to impress Leia.

Not that her thrifted dress with a barely hidden stain would be that impressive to the senator.

At least it was her.

This was not her.

She looked like a proper toff* minus the pearls.

She hadn’t even brought a tee to at least switch out the polo.

Rey adjusted the polo and tugged on the boots. They were a size too big, but otherwise, everything fit. She opened the bedroom door and scowled at the man waiting outside. He had changed out of his usual dark attire and thrown on blue jeans and a red plaid shirt over a white tee. The sleeves were rolled up and his forearms crossed over his chest. For a moment, Rey forgot to feel mad.

Ben grinned. “You look-”

“Ridiculous.”

“A little. But you look beautiful in anything.” Ben pushed off the wall and brushed a piece of Rey’s hair back. It took everything in her not to moan into his touch. Why the hell was she so horny today?

Ben was always frustratingly handsome but there was something about him in this place that made her want to-

“Ready?” Ben stuck his hand out.

“For what?” Rey took his hand. “It’s something to do with the horses, right?”

Ben shrugged with that little smile still on his face. “Maybe.”

“You are…” An asshole. Frustrating. Handsome. Rey shook her head.

Ben led her out of the house and towards the stone stables. Rey could hardly keep from running toward the building. She was going to pet a horse. She’d never pet a horse before. Never really even seen one in real life.

A wide barn door was already open. Beyond, Rey could see a long wide hall with several gated squares on each side. To her disappointment, they all seemed to be empty. Ben led her down the hall of stalls. Rey took a deep breath of the smell of hay and leather.

“Where are they?”

���In the pasture. Most of these are always empty. Mom and Rodric can’t take care of as many as they used to.”

They stepped out on the other side of the stables to a huge fenced-off pasture. Rey strained to see a few dark horse-like blobs off on the distant hills. She frowned. “Are we walking to see them?”

“I sorta figured we would ride.”

“Ride what- oh my gods.” Rey looked over to see a massive horse standing just to the side of the barn. It huffed and shook its white and grey dappled head at her and Ben. He whinnied and chewed at the bit in his mouth. A saddle sat on his back over a blanket. Two full saddlebags hung on its sides. It was taller than her. Almost taller at the shoulder than Ben.

“Rey meet Millennium.”

Ben tugged her hand towards the creature but Rey was frozen still in her boots. “It’s so big.”

Ben cocked his brow and Rey hit his arm lightly. Ben chucked. “You can pet him.”

“I don’t…” Rey let Ben pull her towards the beast. Could horses smell fear?

Millennium snorted and Rey shrieked, pulling her hand out of Ben’s gentle but firm grip.

Ben bit his lip like he was trying not to laugh at her.

Arsehole.

“Just- Let me do it on my own.”

“Okay.” Ben nodded. “You want me to do it first?”

Rey nodded. She watched from a safe distance as Ben walked up to the beast. He spoke to it softly as he approached and patted the horse's nose. The horse whinnied and bobbed its massive head before gladly accepting more scratches from Ben. He was so good with animals. Kylo. Millennium.

Rey took a deep breath and a step forward. Ben could do it. Ben said it was okay. He wouldn’t let anything bad happen to her.

Trust.

She had to trust him.

Three steps from the horse, Ben offered her his hand. Rey bit her lip as Millennium turned his bright blue eyes toward her.

Rey gave Ben her hand and let him slowly guide her fingers to Millennium's muzzle. Rey brushed against the softest, most velvety texture she had ever encountered. A blinding grin took over her face and she pet Millennium.

“Oh, wow.” Rey giggled as the horse nudged her hand for more. She looked up at Ben and her heart caught.

This man… Looking at her with the softest eyes imaginable. So full of what she could only describe as love and he was looking right at her.

“Are you ready to ride?”

Never mind.

Nope.

No way in hell.

“You can’t be serious.”

“Dead serious, princess.” There was a spark of mirth in his eyes.

Rey wrinkled her nose and looked back at Millennium who was still trying to get more pets out of her. He was so tall his shadow engulfed her. She wasn’t about to bow out. Not in front of Ben.

“If you go first.”

“Fair enough.” Ben reached for the reigns that tied Millennium to the side of the stable and unhooked them. From the saddle, he grabbed a black helmet and handed it to her. Rey took it and backed away and Ben easily swung himself up onto the horse’s back.

Maybe this was a bad suggestion. Ben Solo sitting astride a horse looking all too natural and at ease did something to her. Rey shifted trying to find any sort of relief between her thighs. Ben winked at her and she scowled back.

With a click of his tongue, Ben urged Millennium to turn toward the pasture and start walking. That walk became a trot. Then a canter. Then she was watching Ben fly down the rolling hill in a gallop. Her heart soared with excitement and a little bit of fear.

Ben turned Millennium back toward her and came back up the hill at a slower trot. There was a wide smile on his face. His hair was wind-blown and his cheeks were red. His boyish grin settled as his eyes landed on her, replaced by something deeper. Hungrier.

Him. It’s him.

Rey held his gaze as the pair approached. Ben brought Millennium to a stop in front of her. “Put on the helmet.”

“You’re not wearing a helmet.”

“Don’t use one.”

“Why? Because you’re already thick-headed?”

Ben smirked. “Helmet. Princess.”

Rey grumbled as she put the helmet on and clasped it beneath her chin. When she was finished, Ben reached down for her.

“I’m riding with you?”

“Unless you’d like to go alone.”

Rey sighed and took his hand.

Without much warning, Ben hoisted her up and into the saddle in front of him. Rey yelped and scrambled to grip the only thing she could- Millennium's mane. The horse snickered.

“You’re a bloody bastard sometimes, Ben Solo.”

Ben leaned into her, his body a solid wall at her back. His lips brushed against her ear as he spoke. “You like it though, sweetheart.”

Rey’s cheeks turned bright red. She thought she had been hiding her horniness but Ben had obviously caught on. “Where are we going?”

“You’ll see.” She felt his grin as he sat up straighter and urged Millennium in a walk back towards the wide-open pasture.

Five steps in Rey realized how much of a bad idea this was. The saddle between her legs. Ben pressed tight against her back. The warmth and smell of him filling her senses. It took her frustration to a whole new level. Rey gritted her teeth. She wasn’t going to fuck him at his mother’s home. She wasn’t.

Concentrate on something else. Literally anything else. Enjoy the moment, dammit Rey. It’s supposed to be a date. A nice time. Romantic.

She’d never been much of a hopeless romantic, but more and more it seemed like Ben was. A horseback ride through a picturesque meadow was a peak romance movie scene. Rey stifled her shriek as Millennium shifted and took a step forward.

This was not romantic. This was fucking terrifying. Rey took an iron grip on the saddle. This only seemed to disturb the horse more.

“You’ve got to relax, princess. He can sense your tension.”

“I am relaxed.” She bit out, not the least bit relaxed.

Ben wrapped his arm around her chest and slowly pulled her back into him. “Lay against me.”

Fucking hell.

“I’ve got you, Rey. I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

“I’ll come back for you, sweetheart. I won’t let anything bad happen to you.” The sound of her mother’s voice echoes in her head. Her mother never came back for her. Her own flesh and blood didn’t want her. What made her think that Ben and his mother would be any different? What made her think she would be any different than her own mother?

No. No, I would never do that to my own. I would fight death itself to come back to them.

And Ben… Ben would fight for them too. Rey knew it in her soul. That she could trust. That she knew.

Rey uncurled her fingers from the leather of the saddle and slowly sank back into Ben.

“I’m not going to let you fall.” Ben sat up a little straighter behind her. This time, Millennium held steady. “Millennium knows the land better than any soul. He’s never gotten spooked. Steady as a rock.”

“Okay.” Rey swallowed. She could do this. She could fucking do this. “Okay. I’m ready.”

Ben clicked his tongue and Millennium started forward at a steady walk. It took a minute for Rey to realize she was digging her nails into Ben’s thighs. He hadn’t said a thing. It took several more minutes for Rey to get used to the steady rocking of Millennium’s gait and another to truly start to enjoy it all.

“I’m riding a horse.” Rey laughed disbelievingly. “I’m riding a fucking horse.”

“Yeah, you are.” Ben grinned and pressed a kiss to her neck. “Do you want to take the reins?”

“Absolutely not.”

Ben led them down the hill and toward the forest surrounding the lake. There was a path wide enough for a horse to walk cut through the trees. Under the lush green canopy, there was something magical in the air.

Bloody romantic.

They rode through the woods, following the path that wound between the trees and at times skirted the lake. Rey lost all track of time before her stomach grumbled and she realized it was well past noon.

Ben laughed, “Almost there, princess.”

“Where’s there?”

“You’ll see.”

“Has anyone ever told you you’re an arsehole?”

“Yes. You. Several times now. And several more times in your head.”

“Arsehole.”

“You like it, princess.”

“You wish.”

Ben’s voice dropped to a purr against her skin and Rey shivered. “There’s a lot of things I could say to you right now, but we are on a date. A nice date. A date where every time you’re a brat, you get a surprise.”

“What if I like surprises?” As much as she wanted to, Rey couldn’t turn to look back at him without feeling like she was going to slip off the saddle.

“I’ve seen your kitchen. You hate surprises more than Hux.”

He was right, of course, but Rey refused to give in. “Do not.”

“So that wasn’t murder and suspicion in your eyes when I stole you from my mother?”

“I- well- shut up.”

“That’s another surprise, Rey.”

“Dick.”

“I can do this all day.” Ben laughed and Rey fought her grin. She hated surprises. She hated not knowing what was going to happen, what to expect. The last person who tried to jump scare her (Poe) got throat punched. She refused any and all surprise birthday parties and she had to know about plans for new events weeks in advance.

But now she’d put the reins quite literally in Ben’s hands. And she was… Fine.

More than fine.

She trusted Ben.

Weird.

Beneath them, the ground sloped slightly into a shallow valley and Millennium shifted into a trot beneath her.

Rey lost track of how far they had gone through the trees until Ben slowed Millennium to a stop at the lake’s edge. Far away, on the other bank was the main house and stables sitting proudly atop the hill. The clear bright sky reflected across the water, stirred only by a gentle breeze.

“It’s beautiful.”

“Yeah.”

She could feel him looking at her. “Ben, I-“

“I think this is a good place to stop.” Ben cut her off before she could say more. She wasn’t even sure how she was going to end that sentence.

That it was too much, maybe. That she didn’t deserve whatever he was trying to offer to her.

“Stop for what?”

“Lunch.” Ben pressed his lips against her neck and Rey couldn’t help but shudder. He hopped off Millennium and held the reigns to steady the horse as Rey slid from the saddle with all the grace and dignity of a floundering goose.

“Just lunch?” Gods help her. She wanted him.

Ben raised an eyebrow and grinned. “Be good and there might be dessert.”

He tied Millennium's reins to a tree and pulled from the saddlebags a blanket, a bottle of sparkling juice, and several reusable bags of food. He set these things out carefully along with glasses and sat back on the blanket. Rey sat beside him as he gestured to the open space.

From this spot, they could see out onto the lake. Yet, they were still hidden from anyone else’s gaze by the branches and brush of the forest. It was quiet. Secluded. A quiet breeze flowed through the tree branches above.

“Bloody romantic,” Rey mumbled.

“What was that, princess?”

“Nothing.”

Ben smirked. “Nothing?”

“Yep.” Rey went for the platter of cheese and fruits Ben had brought but he stopped her hand with a light touch. “What?”

“Surprise number two. I feed you.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“As I said. This is a romantic date. I’m taking care of you and you have to let me. If you don’t like it, we can go back to the house now and you can stuff as many cheese slices in your mouth as possible.”

“You don’t want to see how much I can fit?”

“Sweetheart,” Ben's gaze fluttered to her lips. “I already know how much you can fit.”

Fucking hell.

Rey swallowed. “I- well- fucker.”

“That’s another surprise, princess.”

“Another?! You’re the one being a brat. Not me.”

Ben only chuckled and picked up a green grape. He rolled it between his fingers before looking back at her. “What’s it going to be, Rey?”

He held out the grape to her lips.

Fuck it.

Rey took the grape from his fingers and crushed it between her teeth. It was sweet and tart all in one. Maybe even the best grape she’d ever had.

“Savor it.”

“I know how to taste food. You can’t impress me with your culinary prowess. I know what comes out of your truck.”

“Fair enough.” Ben ate another grape then selected a cube of cheese for her. Rey took it from his fingertips. It was both belittling and enjoyable to be fed. To be taken care of. How had she gotten this far? Rey would have bitten the fingers off of any other man if they tried this. If anyone had kept her from her food, well… She knew what that felt like. There was still the feeling she had that if she wanted to reach out and feed herself, Ben would let her.

But it was… nice.

“So, you do this for all your dates?”

The moment the words came out of her mouth, Rey wanted to shove them back in. Ben paused.

“No. Actually.”

“We don’t have to-“

“We should. Talk about it.” Ben sighed. “I just- I don’t want to scare you off with… You’re the first person I’ve ever brought to see my mother.”

“First girlfriend?”

Ben shook his head. “First person. I didn’t really have friends growing up and those that I did have I kept far away from my family. And the last serious relationship I had was when I wasn’t speaking to my family. Several years ago. She wasn’t… she wasn’t a family-type person anyway. My mother would have hated her.”

“Oh.”

Oh, gods.

Oh, gods.

He’s serious about this.

“And now I’m back here and I can see it. Bringing a kid out for a day on the lake. My dad fixing up his boat. Teaching them how to horse ride.” Ben looked out at the lake but Rey couldn’t take her eyes off of him. She could see it in his eyes. All that hope. All those dreams for a family, a future. And he- he wanted her there with him.

Why? Why her?

That was the thing she couldn’t move past. That was the question that clung to her soul since the day her parents left her crying and screaming.

The trouble is, now she can see it all. She can see Ben laughing and playing in the water with a little boy, a mop of dark brown hair in his eyes. She can see her and her daughter making sandcastles on the shorelines and riding horses through the trees. Her and Ben on the terrace late at night sipping wine as glow bugs float on a quiet breeze.

Messy counters.

Warm chocolate chip cookies.

A family. A life.

All of it before her if she just reaches out to take it. And Ben-

Ben is willingly, longingly offering it to her.

A no one.

“Ben, I-” Her voice cracks as her throat catches on all the words she’s not yet brave enough to say. It’s too much, too fast. It’s all too much. “I can’t- I-”

“Rey-” Ben looked away from the lake at her, eyes soft and concerned.

“No. Make it- Just please make it make sense.” She needed Ben from that first night. The one that left her broken but healing. The one that pulled things from her she had never let out before. She searched his face for any sign of it. “Please, daddy.”

The switch in Ben was instantaneous. His eyes went dark with power and understanding. She had asked him to take command and he was willing.

“Are you sure, Princess?”

Rey nodded.

“Use your words.”

“Yes, I’m sure.”

“I’m going to tell you what I’m going to do and you’re going to tell me if you don’t like anything. Anything at all. Is that clear?” Ben’s lips brushed against her ear sending shivers across her skin.

“Yes.”

“You’ll do as I ask?”

“Yes.”

“Tell me your safe word.”

“Red is stop.”

“Red is stop. You can say it at any time for any reason and I will never punish you for it. Is that understood?” Ben pressed his lips against her skin. It was like white-hot fire. She wished to pull away from it but at the same time, she was drawn to its heat. It should get old- how it feels when Ben touches her- but every time feels just as desired as before.

“Yes. Understood.”

In seconds, Rey was on her back, sprawled on the blanket atop the soft forest floor. Ben hovered above her with earnest and hungry eyes. One by one with a gentle touch he took her hands and placed them above her head with a firm grip. “Be good. Don’t move your hands. I know you can be good. Do you want to know how I know that?”

All that came from Rey’s mouth was a small whimper. Dammit, she wanted him and he was so close. She could feel his weight between her thighs. She was completely helpless beneath him. It quickened her breath and made her heart race but there was no fear there.

“Look at me when I’m speaking to you, sweetheart.”

Rey forced herself to lift her gaze and meet Ben’s eyes. It was just as uncomfortable as the night he made her look while he dined between her legs. Why was it so uncomfortable though just to look at him? To see the-

Oh, oh no.

He looked at her… the way a chef looks at a Michelin star.

No. That’s not right.

The way Rose watches anime.

No. Not quite right either.

The way a king should look at a queen.

As if she has worth.

As if she was capable of being loved. Deserving of it.

Ben grinned. “You know.”

“I-” Rey swallowed and looked away before forcing herself to look back at him.

“This is what’s going to happen, princess. You are going to be a good girl.” Ben released her hands, but Rey dared not to move an inch. Ben sat back on his heels, studying her. “And I am going to worship you like the Queen you are.”

Fuck.

Read it all on AO3