#sam rivers imagines

[so-much-for-stardust6]

Body Paint- Wes Borland

-

-

-

summary: you get all hot and bothered seeing your boyfriend (aka guitarist of one of the bands you’re touring with) dressed up in his show attire

lowercase intended

warnings: smut

a/n: this was requested by @mizfitneeds so thank u sm for the idea and i hope u like it 😭🙏 also i did not re read it so pls excuse any spelling or grammar mistakes

-

-

-

-

it’s 1998 and my band, b/n, is on the family values tour with korn, limp bizkit, and a few other great musicians. this was a huge step for my band since we’re an all girl metal band, so touring with big bands will definitely get us seen. i’m not new to limp bizkit nor korn since i’m dating limp’s guitarist, wes borland. wes and i have been together for about a year, our 1 year anniversary coming up. he was actually the one who pitched the idea of my band to tour with them, head and jonathan actually liking the idea. today we were in west valley city, utah for a show and i was in wes’ dressing room helping him with his outfit for the concert. he decided with black body paint and his long black skirt.

“hey baby, can you help me with my back?” he asks, looking at me through the mirror.

“yeah of course.” i look up from my magazine.

i place it down next to me and get up, rolling up my sleeves. he hands me the body paint and i happily grab it. i wasn’t new to this process, having been with him on tour before. i scoop out some paint with my fingers and start to smear it on his back. i take the time to examine his toned back and the rest of his muscles. i’ve always known how strong wes is but i’ve never fully paid attention. my fingers danced along his porcelain skin, painting it. i bit my lip and try to ignore the feelings that are starting to creep up in my mind. wes is watching me through the mirror, an evil smirk on his lips.

“you okay there, baby?” he chuckles.

“huh? yeah, i’m fine. you ready to go out there?” i say excitedly, also trying to change the subject.

“yeah just-just got those nervous jitters, you know?”

“well like you always tell me before i go on, “you’re gonna kill it out there, baby” and you know it.” i wink at him and began to rub his shoulders, also getting paint on them.

“you know you massage me really well, i should ask for this more often.” he throws his head to the side.

“hmm, maybe you should. i also enjoy this.” i kiss behind his ear.

“you feelin’ alright, baby? you’re acting…not yourself.” his voice goes low.

i subconsciously began closing my legs, trying to stop that feeling in between them.

“yeah i’m doing fine! just that post performance adrenaline, you know.” i awkwardly chuckle.

i continue to cover his body with paint, ignoring his suggestive looks.

“alrighty, i think i got you all covered. you can do the rest, yeah?” i hand the paint back.

“maybe you can help with something else?”

i can tell there’s an suggestive tone in his voice and a certain gleam in his eye.

“i-uh…like what?” i nervously gulp.

“getting my stomach?” he grins innocently, handing me back the paint.

i sigh in frustration at his psychological teasing and take back the paint. i turn his chair around and motion for him to stand up. he listens and towers over me, looking down at me with his huge black lenses in his eyes. i begin to smear the paint all over his toned abs, hesitation in my touch as the dirty thoughts enter my brain again. i can feel his piercing gaze on the top of my head, following every stroke my fingers do.

“so, what do you wanna do tomorrow for our day off?”

“maybe sleep in? i know i wanna have my girl in my arms.” i feel him start to move his arms to hug me but i was quick to stop him.

“you’re covered in paint, wes. i don’t want it on me.”

“ugh, you’re no fun.” he huffs.

i chuckle and go back to his body. i’ve always loved how soft his skin is, how gentle it feels against my fingertips. i take in a shaky breath as i get closer to the waistline of his skirt. his strong prominent v-line was the only thing my eyes could focus on. i heard him lightly laugh, knowing instantly that he was watching me eye fuck him. i quickly finished up the rest of his body, giving him the paint back for good before excusing myself to the bathroom to wash the paint off. i take the time to splash cold water onto my face to calm myself down. i couldn’t get myself so worked up right now over wes. he’s already in his outfit, absolutely covered in black body paint so if we had a quickie it would be very obvious. i go back to wes’ dressing room, 15 minutes left before they go on stage. i walk in on him spiking up his hair with gel, achieving that classic wes borland hairstyle. i take a minute again to check him out one last time before taking a seat and resume reading the magazine i had.

the 13 minutes passed and now i was standing near the rest of limp bizkit who were at the side of the stage, getting ready to go out.

“you guys are gonna do great!” i tell them.

“thanks y/n/n!” lethal says with a smile.

“you gonna stay and watch?” wes asks me.

“of course.” i smile.

“good cause you’re the first person i wanna see when i get off stage.” he smirks.

he then leans down and presses a slow, long and seductive kiss onto my lips. my breathing stops and i swear so did my heart. i slowly start to kiss back but he pulls away, an evil smirk on his lips.

“see you after the show, baby.” he winks at me before they all rush on stage.

i mentally curse the tall sexy man i call mine.

“hey, y/n!” i hear my band mates call out.

i turn to look at them, all fresh and clean from their showers.

“you wanna go and hit some clubs? we’re feeling pumped after that show!” my guitarist exclaimed out.

“yeah! i’m ready to dance with somebody.” my guitarist winks then laughs.

“oh i would guys but i told wes i’d watch him play. maybe after the next show, for sure.” they all groaned at my response.

“pinky promise?” my bassist raised an eyebrow, sticking out her pinky.

“pinky promise.” i repeat back, hooking my pinky with hers.

“great! we’ll see you when we get back then!” my bassist says.

“that’s if she isn’t in wes’ bunk again!” my drummer jokes, elbowing them.

they all laugh and so do i because it’s honestly true, i basically sleep in wes’ bunk more than mine.

“yeah yeah, go on. be careful though, i need you guys for the rest of this tour!” i say jokingly but obviously being serious.

“yes mom!” my guitarist playfully rolls her eyes and they all make their way to whatever bar.

i turn back to the stage and watch as limp bizkit performs counterfeit. my eyes are dead set on wes the whole time, watching him make faces as he plays. i can already see sweat coating his paint covered body, a much needed shower is what he’ll need after. wes turns around to grab his water bottle once the song was over, eyes catching mine. he smiles at me before taking a quick swig of the liquid and placing it down. he sends a quick air kiss over to me before heading back to his spot. i blush at his actions and shuffle in my spot. time flies by and before i know it i see a sweaty wes approaching me.

“how’d you like it?!” he screams out, stretching his arms out for a hug.

i go to dodge it, not wanting to be covered in paint.

“it was fucking fantastic! you guys killed it!” i exclaim.

“i’m so glad you liked it, baby.“ he presses a kiss to my cheek.

“y/n! how’s my favorite girl doing?” i hear fred call out.

he’s approaching wes and i with jonathan right by his side. they both have beer in the hands, possibly a bit drunk.

“buzzed! you guys killed it! and i already know korn will too.” i smile at jonathan.

“you gonna stay and watch?” he asks.

“maybe? i dunno, i’m feeling a bit tired.”

wes suddenly pulls me in close before i could complain about his paint. i then feel his hand travel to the small of my back, distracting me from the conversation. i have no clue if he’s doing it on purpose or not but my mind was focused on him. i stare at fred with a blank face who was ranting on about whatever. wes’ hands start to dance along my back and travel high. my skin gets goosebumps and i slightly shiver at his touch. i turn to look at him, his eyes on the duo like nothings happening. i eye the sweat dripping down his paint covered chest and down his abs. i bite my lip and imagine the things i’d do to him.

“y/n? earth to y/n?!” fred shouts out, waving his hand in my face.

“hm? i’m sorry, i uh- i blanked out.” i awkwardly chuckle.

i see wes smirk out the corner of my eye and i knew i was done for.

“hey guys, i’m a bit tired and to be honest i wanna get out this paint. y/n and i will talk to you guys later, okay?”

“oh yeah, see you two tomorrow.” jonathan nods, suspiciously eyeing us.

wes began leading us to our room and i hear jonathan say something to fred.

“i bet you 2 bucks that she’s gonna end up pregnant by the end of this tour with the way they’re always fucking.”

“make it $20.”

i laugh in my head as wes leads us back to his room, my eyes focused on his strong back. those thoughts and that feeling between my legs came back and i was starting to become restless. we finally make it back into the dressing room and i was quick to lock the door. wes doesn’t notice my fidgety behavior and goes to sit in front of his mirror. i see him start to clean up his hands to take out this contact lenses.

“stop!” i blurt out.

he slowly turns around with a confused look on his face.

“k-keep them in.” i stutter.

i see his eyes scan my figure, pretending to try and figure out the reason for my behavior. his face goes soft once he seems how my thighs are squeezed together.

“tell me why.” he smirks, knowing exactly why.

“because you look hot in them.” i quickly admitted.

he motions me to sit down on his lap. i immediately don’t care about his body paint, i just want to be close to him.

“i’ve seen those looks you gave me earlier, baby. is something on your mind?” he tucks a piece of my hair behind my ear.

“nothing in particular, no.” i lie.

he can tell i’m lying, he always can.

“tsk, tsk, tsk. you gotta be honest with me if you want me to solve your problem. tell me exactly what you were thinking of.”

“your body. how strong your body is, how it’d feel to be against you.” i sheepishly admit.

my legs were on either side of his leg, my crotch placed perfectly on the top of his thigh.

i feel his hands grab my waist and start to slowly guide me. i follow his directions and start to slowly dry hump myself against him.

“fuck..i want you, wes.”

“thought you didn’t want this body paint on you?” he teases.

“oh fuck you. just kiss me, borland.”

he obeyed and strongly pressed his lips against mine. the feeling of his lip ring on my lips was something i’d never get used to. my hand goes to press on the back of his neck to deepen the kiss. i feel the paint smearing all over my hands and onto my arms. my other hand goes to run through his gel slicked hair, breaking it apart. i moan into the kiss which causes his grip on my waist to tighten. he speeds up the pace my hips are going, some slight pleasure erupting from down there. the texture of my jeans are too thick for me to really feel anything, so i abruptly get up from his lap and take them off. i shimmy them down my legs and kick them off as well as my shoes. i go back to his lap, only in my underwear that already had a wet spot. wes brought his band to them, feeling how wet i am through the underwear.

“does my body paint really do this to you?” he groans out.

i only moan back, my brain being shut off from the feeling of him close to me. he brings me back into another sloppy kiss and continues my thigh riding. this time the pleasure was 10 times more intense, the adrenaline in my veins pumping. i had a good grip on his shoulder, occasionally squeezing them when the pleasure gets a little too much. he keeps a good grip on my hips as he guides me even faster, a wet spot now on his thigh. i open my eyes and look into the mirror behind wes. the image of me riding his skirt covered thigh made me moan loudly into his mouth, the feeling of an orgasm approaching. i wish i could take a picture of what i was seeing because holy shit. i was riding my boyfriend’s thigh as he was wearing black body paint, black long skirt, and spiked up hair. as i watched me ride his thigh, my orgasm approached me faster. next thing i know i’m cumming all over his thigh, body coming to a halt.

i pull away from the kiss and press out foreheads together. we sat there catching our breaths as i calm down from the orgasm.

“so fucking wet for me.” he mumbles, looking down at the wetness on his skirt.

“take it off.”

“what?”

“take the skirt off.” i say breathlessly.

i shakily stand up to give him a chance to do so. he didn’t hesitate to quickly shove his skirt and boxers down his legs, letting his hard erection spring out. his tip was red and leaking with precum.

“already so hard? i barely did anything.” i tease.

he mocks me before roughly grabbing my hips and sitting me back down onto his lap. i run my hands all over his body, still not caring about the smudging paint. i then go to take off my shirt, exposing my braless torso.

“i fucking knew it.”

his hands go to grope my boobs, massaging them. i didn’t wanna waste any more time so i push my underwear aside and grab his dick. i run his tip through my wet folds. he moans out at the feeling and i shiver at the contact. wes’ hips suddenly buckle up which caused him to slide into me. we both moan out at the suddenness but continue with it. he starts to thrust his hips up, the sound of skin slapping echoed the room. his body paint began smearing all over me, getting all over the places our bodies connected. his hands roamed my body, gripping and squeezing any part he could. i ran my hands along his abs, getting his paint under my nails and clenching around him at the touch. the air in the room became hot in an instant, my skin starting to becoming sticky and sweaty. my boobs bounced up with every thrust, wes’ black eyes hypnotized by them. he leans down to press harsh kisses along my neck, sucking and biting them as well. he created dark purple hickies all over, not caring about the public eye. around the hickies he left black circles due to paint on his lips, marking me in many ways. he sucked at my sweet spot, my stomach doing flips at the feeling. wes had a hold on my ass, lifting me up to get a better angle for thrusting. he went harder and faster, a moan escaping my swollen lips.

my eyes were closed shut as i focus on the immense pleasure i was receiving. wes pulled away from my neck to watch my face, pure bliss covering it. he smirked at my reaction his to actions. he kissed me once again, this time sneaking his tongue into my mouth. our tongues danced and fought for dominance. dominance of what? i don’t know but we fought. that familiar feeling came back and was rising quickly. my knees start to feel weak and my body slowly starts to go limp. he noticed my sudden change in body language and realized i was close. he brought a hand to my clit and began rubbing. i always say it but i’m still damn surprised at how fast his fingers are. i was moaning all about into his mouth, pulling away eventually to moan out loud.

“come on, baby. i know you’re close.” he breaths out.

he goes faster with his motions, tipping me over. i cry out as i cum all over his dick, walls stuttering as i do so. the feeling of me clenching against him caused him to cum as well. i felt his spurts of cum inside of me, my cheeks instantly heating up. i wind down from my orgasm and collapse against his chest.

“maybe i should wear this more often.” he jokes.

“yeah, good luck finding someone to get your back.”

“we need to get you cleaned up.” he laughs at my appearance.

i sit up and look into the mirror, gasping out at the sight of me. i don’t know what i was expecting but i was covered in black paint. his handprints were shown on my boobs and splotches of paint littered my neck. my waist has also fallen victim. the area around my mouth was also covered in paint causing me to laugh. random spots on my body also got covered with paint.

“i look so silly!”

wes’ eyes brighten up at my laughter, a bright smile on his face.

“you wanna shower together? you know it saves water.” he wiggles his eyebrows.

“hmm, okay. but there’s no way we’re having a round 3.” i scold him.

he chuckles at my words and helps me off of him. he kicks off his shoes and clothing as he guides us to the bathroom. we in fact did have a round 3.

[downtherabbitholewithlucy]

I can't be the only one who thinks this...

[karmirage]

do u have a link to the reddit person who thought sambeto married

yeah sure here ya go

sorry for the link formatting I'm on mobile

and if you don't want to click on a random link:

image description in alt text. Reddit user Frecklefart95 you are the realest person ever. I salute you

[3dollarbillyalls]

[bcksbarnes]

between a dream

pairing: tws!bucky barnes x reader

summary: bucky barnes has just found out his entire life has been a lie. that his life as the winter solider has been nothing but mind control. instead of running off after his fight with steve, he returns to the avengers tower where he trusts no one. everyone takes turn on watch, and this time it's yours.

word count: 2.2K

read the: next chapter

a/n: based this on request from anonymous!

the winter solider was not a man. he was not capable of forming his own thoughts or having feelings. he was a killing machine that was able to be turned on and off at any moment, bringing only death and destruction wherever he went. that was until he heard one word, one name. bucky. that moment altered something in his brain, a voice in the back of his head coming to life. it sounded like his own. the winter solider was not sure he had ever heard his own voice in his head before. 

he had learned very quickly, and against his will, that he was once a man named james ‘bucky’ barnes. that he used to be a solider from a different time. that he had a life that was taken away from him. that he has been used as a weapon. and that he should be dead. 

the man he had once thought was his target, steve rogers, was actually his friend in the life he no longer knew. the one he couldn’t remember.  

and now as he sat in this tower over looking the city skyline, all he could think about was that there was no one to be trusted. sure, maybe steve, but he wasn’t even in the right frame of mind to distinguish if this was still some trap – some lie. 

“he’s been sitting like that for two days.” sam says as you and steve approach. everyone has been taking turns keeping watch of him since he and steve returned from their fight near the river. first nat, then sam, now it would be your turn. “he hasn’t eaten or slept.” 

“i don’t blame him.” you mumble as your arms cross over your chest, watching the back of bucky’s head. “he just found out his entire life has been a lie. he’s been used a killing machine for the last 70 years.” you try to keep your voice low so that he can’t hear you, but you watch as he tilts his head back and forth a bit, the memories filling his mind. 

“let me go introduce you.” steve’s voice is soft, as he places a hand on your elbow guiding you over to where bucky was sitting. once you approach his chair, you take a step back keeping your distance while steve goes to speak to him. 

“hey, buck.” he says, bucky wincing a bit at the name, obviously not used to it yet. “sam’s going to be heading out of here in a few minutes. i wanted to introduce you to another team member.” 

bucky’s head turns to the side to look at steve, his eyes raking over the man. you can tell he’s trying to figure out if steve in that moment is a threat to him, his body rigid as he asses. you can’t imagine the amount of stress he’s under, how his brain must be on fire with trying to discern between realities. 

he soon looks over at you, his stare is hard as the two of you make eye contact. you’re not scared of him, and you know you could disarm him in a moment despite the difference in size between the two of you, but there’s something in his gaze that feels so disconnected from the world – from emotion. steve introduces you, saying your name a few times as he gives bucky the same rundown as he had with both natasha and sam, trying to reiterate that they were here to help – not hurt. 

bucky doesn’t respond, he didn’t the first two times either, his gaze moves back over to steve and he continues to frown, wanting to be done with this conversation, wishing the screaming in his head would stop.  

once steve wraps up his rundown he looks over at you, giving a firm nod before he walks out of the room, beginning your time on the clock to keep watch of this man, while they figure out how best to move forward. 

nothing really happens for the first few hours, bucky shifts slightly in his chair a few times, you lead him to the bathroom once or twice, and your phone buzzes with some texts from steve checking in, but overall nothing worth noting.  

you can see the dark circles under bucky’s eyes as you sit a few seats away from him. you feel bad for him to some extent. he had done bad things, sure, but you couldn’t imagine the pain he was going through. the sun begins to set and you hear a loud sigh leave his lips, it makes you wonder what’s going on in his head. 

he hasn’t eaten. 

sam’s voice rings through your head and you realize it’s probably best to get bucky some food. 

“hey.” you say, getting his attention, his head slowly rolling to the side to look at you. “what do you want to eat?” 

bucky’s eyes graze over you for a moment, you can see him making a mental note that you are a threat to him and that no one right now is safe. he makes no attempts to respond before he rolls his head back to continue staring into space. 

“o...kay.” you mumble to yourself, taking out your phone and making a few arrangements to have food sent up for him. 

it doesn’t take long for someone to arrive, pushing a cart filled with food, you jump off your chair to thank them before grabbing the plate and moving it over to a table where bucky could sit. 

you don’t realize he’s watching you until you turn back around, your head nodding over to the table and he stands. he’s much taller than you had anticipated, your eyes taking in the size of him as his metal arm shines brightly even with the dim lights in the tower. he sits down and waits for you to sit across from him. 

“i guess they sent over ...” you eye his plate for a moment. “salmon.” the face you make after the word is one of pure disgust – a food you hated with every fiber of your being, you didn’t envy that he had to eat it. 

but, he makes no attempts to reach for his fork or knife, his hands curled into fists as they rest at the table, his eyes watching you intently.  

“do you not like salmon?” you ask, trying to coax even an answer out of him, but he doesn’t budge. it takes you a moment before you put two and two together – the most obvious reason of all as to why he’s not eating. “steve wouldn’t poison you.” 

he grunts in response, his fists tightening a bit as his eyes move down to the food then back up at you. it’s hard to understand what could possibly be going through his mind, what horrors he’s had to endure and the false reality that he was placed into for all those years. 

“steve wouldn’t poison you, bucky.” you say again, trying to reiterate the point as much as you possibly could, your words holding so much weight to anyone but it falls flat with him. 

“i don’t know steve.” his words send a chill through your spine, his voice is deep and hallow, lacking any emotion, but, to be fair, he’s not wrong. “i don’t know you.”  

“fine. i’ll prove it to you then.” your words come out faster than your brain has a chance to stop you. standing up from your seat, your chair pushing back as you do so, you lean across and grab his fork, hands shaking slightly as you grab a piece of the salmon. 

you regret doing it almost immediately, you can feel the weight of his gaze on you as he watches you bring the fork to your mouth. it’s fishy and pink and the bile is rising in your throat just at the smell of it, but you know you have to do this. to earn some sort of trust. if steve was here, he’d do anything to prove to bucky, so you had to show him you were just as capable of proving this as well. 

taking the bite your body wants to reject it almost immediately as you chew, but you manage to get it down, taking a long sip of your water once it’s been swallowed to try and get the taste out of your mouth. horrible. terrible. disgusting. if he didn’t eat the salmon now, then you’d definitely kill him. 

a beat of silence passes between the two of you as stare at each other. bucky moves his hand, grabbing his fork back from you and moving to take a bite of the food, having an easier time choking it down than you do. 

there it was. something. maybe not trust yet, maybe just a spark of the idea. 

you sit down across from him again, shaking your head as you try not to imagine eating anymore of the food, the idea of it sending a shiver down your spine as you continue to watch silently. 

“thanks.” he manages to say between bites, his eyes on the food in front of him.  

“yeah, don’t mention it.” you quip back, your voice flat before letting out a dry cough. 

it’s once he’s finished with his food that he pushes his body back against the chair, sinking into it slightly, his flesh and metal hand grip the arms tightly. the tension in the room is palpable at this point and you know bucky can feel it too. 

“how long have you known steve?” his voice is gruff as it comes out, and you’re surprised he’s willing to talk to you, let alone ask questions. 

“two years.” you respond. “since they found him in the ice.” you remember that day vividly, watching as they brought him in for evaluation, making their plans to slowly acclimate him to the real world, which in true steve rogers fashion did not work. you had been assigned to his team ever since. “i was one of his first recruits on the team. sam was next, nat is just a friend.” 

bucky nods at that, his long hair falling in front of his face as he takes in your words.  

“has he always been ...” he looks over in the direction of the door that steve had walked out of hours ago. “like that?”  

you let out a small laugh, shaking your head a bit at his question – you knew exactly what he was talking about. steve, while he had everyone’s best interest in mind, was a bit overbearing, always over explaining everything and a bit ... self absorbed. it was the hero complex. 

“yes.” you nod, a small smirk on your face as your gaze catches bucky’s again. his eyes are tired, not as guarded as they were a few minutes ago – softer. “he means well, but he can be a little ...” you trail off, but bucky nods his head understanding where that was going. 

bucky lets out a long sigh, his eyes closing for a moment as you can see his hands gripping the chair tighter, the knuckles on his flesh hand white. 

“i hate that he looks at me like that.” he admits through gritted teeth. “like i’m supposed to just remember everything that happened. there’s ... bits and pieces, but i don’t know him. i barely remember myself. he doesn’t understand.” 

“he doesn’t expect you to remember anything.” you add in after a few long moments of silence. “it might feel like he does, but he doesn’t. he’s just excited to have his friend back.” your eyes trail over his face. “a version of his friend.” 

bucky’s grip loosens on the chair, a deep breath leaving his nostrils as he moves to stand from the table. you watch as he makes his way back to where he was sitting before, his head lolling back onto the chair as he stares up at the ceiling. 

and he stays like that for the remainder of the night. his shoulders aren’t as tense as when you had first arrived, he turns to look at you when you ask him a question and he even manages to gruff out an answer. 

by the time morning comes, steve is there bright and early, ready to release you of your duties as it was now his turn to keep watch over bucky. 

“hey.” he says, startling you a bit as you and bucky both turn to look at him. “how’d it go?” 

“good.” you nod, standing up and straightening your posture. “he ate late last night, he’s feeling a bit ... overwhelmed.” you keep your voice low so bucky couldn’t hear you. “give him some space. don’t ask so many questions.” 

you felt suddenly protective over bucky, the need to make sure he felt comfortable as he navigated his way through this new beginning was blooming in your chest. and as you turn around to see him one last time, you swear you seem some sadness in his eyes. you pat steve on the shoulder as you walk past him, finally being relieved of your time. though you’d never admit out loud you’d be counting down the hours until it was your turn on watch bucky again. 

[questionableratatouille00]

SHDHSUANIAKA

I normally don’t read boxing aus and whatnot but I was way too invested in this

This is so awesome

𝐇𝐞𝐫𝐞'𝐬 𝐋𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐀𝐭 𝐘𝐨𝐮, 𝐊𝐢𝐝.

—boxer!bucky x reader

—summary: bucky hated his job just as much, if not more, than you did. but if you wanted to live the remainder of your lives together comfortably, you'd both have to stick it out. which included him having to fight your ex husband.

—word count: 7.2k

—tw: swearing, alcohol, violence, blood, guns, hospitals, abuse (not from Bucky), Br*ck R*mlow, grammar mistakes, unedited lol

—a/n: my first Bucky pic! Yay! this is kind of a heavy one, as all of my fics are, lol, so if any of the triggers bother you pls don't read any further! I wanna write more blurbs based on this so keep an eye out for those. also Steve and nat are married in this, and sam's wife is an OC named Sonya, I picture her as Kiki Layne but feel free to use imagination! enjoy!

It was never fucking easy.

He had promised. He had always promised that it would get easier. 

Of course, you’d believed him at first. When the love of your life whispers sweet promises into your ear with his hands grasped at your waist, your knees turn to jello and you believe him.

But as time went on, how could watching your fiance get his face smashed in repeatedly by his opponent wearing a red boxing glove ever get fucking easier?

“It’ll get easier, baby. Promise.”

Bullshit. 

The tremor in your fingers never eased, the clamminess of your hands never dried, the tunnel vision barring you from seeing or hearing anything that wasn’t Bucky in that goddamn ring never let up.

“What if it doesn’t?” You whispered.

If there was anything in this God forsaken universe that Bucky Barnes loved, it was you. And he hated himself for making that promise, because it never got easier for him either. The last thing he could ever want was to see his girl shaking in panic, a panic that he caused. But, this was all he knew. His father was a boxer, and he’d been training since he was a teenager. There was no other life for him now, he just needed her to hold on a little bit longer. Just a little bit longer until his contract is up and he can retire forever, having made enough money for the both of them to live comfortably for the rest of their lives and raise a family.

He hoped and prayed that it would get easier, that the pain both of them felt would subside until it was over. But of course, nothing ever seems to work out that way.

—

“Well if you aren’t as beautiful as the day I first met you!”

“That was only 5 years ago Tony. You gonna break my husband’s contract or what?”

Tony Stark, the loveable yet completely tiresome man who managed your fiance, along with multiple other well known boxers under SBA.

“You know that’s out of my control, gorgeous.”

You sighed. Of course you knew. Tony owned the company when you first started dating Bucky, but things changed, and Tony ran out of money. He was eventually bought out by Nick Fury, a good man who let Tony keep a high up enough job at the company, but he played by the rules. He refused to let Bucky end his contract and keep his money. 

“I know it.” You rolled your eyes and patted him on the back as you made your way into the gym.

“Visitors pass!” Tony called after you and you flipped him off, causing him to chuckle. You made your way to the far corner of the gym, knowing it was exactly where Bucky and his friends would be on a Thursday.

“Afternoon, boys! Your voice sang through the gym as you raised a hand in the air, catching the attention of the 3 more so men than boys huddled in a circle with their arms folded across their puffed up chests.

You scoffed. Men.

Sam Wilson, Steve Rogers, and Bucky Barnes. Or, “The Big Three” as most of their fans called them fondly. 

Steve and Bucky both trained under the infamous Sam Wilson, originally the heavyweight champion for the PBA before a debilitating head injury left him and his wife fearful for their future and the future of his newborn daughter. Sam was lucky enough to break his contract with PBA, with the help from his lawyer who found multiple legal loopholes, at the fault of the CEO, Alexander Pierce, who Sam describes as “an asshole on a stick”.

You always thought it was so funny, these 3 big men that just turned to absolute putty in the presence of their girls. Just 3 soft teddy bears that only a select few got to see the sweet, carefree and fun side of.

Just last weekend, you and Bucky hosted a dinner party for all your friends at your new penthouse in New York.

–

“Steve, for the love of all things good, feet off of the sofa!” You scolded from your seat at the bar where you were accompanied by Sam’s wife, Sonya, and Steve’s wife, Natasha, along with Tony’s assistant, Wanda. Sam’s youngest girl, Thalia, was on your lap, head rested on your chest and playing with your hair.

Steve groaned, yanking them off and planting them on the ground before hoisting himself up and making his way towards the bar for a drink for himself, but not before plucking Thalia from your grip.

You were extremely proud of yours and Bucky’s home, it was exactly like you’d always dreamed. A kitchen with the most gorgeous island and oak cabinets, a beautiful dining room with a sparkling vintage chandelier and a table big enough to fit your dysfunctional family, a full functioning bar in the living room and the most stunning view of New York a small town girl like you could never dream of. Bucky wanted to give you everything and more.

“She sent me the link to that sofa when she first ordered it, and for that price you better keep those nasty ass feet off of those cushions.” Natasha berated, pointing a finger in her husband’s face, who responded by playfully biting the end of it before kissing her nose, causing the woman to scrunch her face, and earning a giggle from Thalia.

“Ever so charming.” Sonya taunted, rolling her eyes before taking a sip from her martini, only to make a sour face. “Tony this is the worst martini that’s ever made its way past my lips!”

“I make men fight, Mrs. Wilson, not martinis, be thankful you got anything at all.”

You shook your head, though a smile still played upon your lips as you felt your fiance’s well built arms wrap around your waist, his lips grazing your shoulder.

“Well, hello handsome.” You greeted, turning your head so he could give you a kiss on the lips.

“Hi, my love.” He said ever so gently, pressing a kiss to your brow before letting his lips linger there.

“When are you two lovebirds finally gonna get married?” Sam asked, breaking the silence as he reached over Wanda to grab a piece of cheese from the assortment of snacks you’d set out before dinner. His comment earned a smack on the arm from Sonya.

“If you don’t wife her, Barnes, I might. Because this amaretto sour she made me is kind of to die for.” Wanda joked, sipping from her drink.

“And that sauce just smells heavenly.” Tony remarked, popping a grape into his mouth.

“And this decor…” Steve said, looking around the apartment, wrapping an arm around Natasha. “Honey, do we need a third?

“I think we might-”

“Alright, alright.” Bucky said, tightening his grip around your giggling frame. “Everyone back off of my girl before things get ugly.”

–

Bucky turned to you, his face lighting up as he saw his girl, beautiful as ever, walking through his gym with a cooler bag in hand, lunch for him, no doubt. He met you halfway, picking you up by your waist, spinning you around and dipping you before kissing you in front of all the men who liked to stare a bit too long as you walked past them in your tight jeans and small tank top.

“Bucky!” You squealed, “Don’t make me drop the food I slaved away making for you all this morning.”

Bucky froze, raising an eyebrow, “All?”

Steve and Sam’s ears perked up, “All?!”

You smiled, wiggling out of Bucky’s grip, but keeping one hand wrapped in his. “Thought it’d be a fun surprise!” You set down the cooler bag and let the 2 men rifle through what you had to offer. Salmon, rice, steamed vegetables, your special sauce that you refused to share the recipe to, and multiple bags of your boxer diet- friendly chocolate chip cookies that the boys went crazy over.

“Mrs. Barnes you are quite literally a saint.” Steve said, gripping your small head in his hands and planting a kiss right in the middle of your forehead.

You and Bucky weren’t married, he hadn’t even proposed yet. But you both had a habit of calling each other ‘husband’, ‘wife’, ‘fiance’, and everyone else’s favorite ‘Mrs. Barnes’.

You laughed and wiped the remnants of Steve’s kiss before turning to Bucky, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“How are you today, doll?” He asked, a serious tone on his face as well as settled in his eyes.

You grimaced. Bucky had a fight today, and you weren’t exactly ecstatic over it. Well, you were never exactly ecstatic when Bucky had to fight. But, that was the only way to bring in money, and the only way to end his contract faster.

“Quentin Beck, right?” You smiled while Bucky ran a hand along your spine. “Easy money.”

“I know that’s right!” Sam whooped, cookie crumbles falling from his mouth. “Gonna need all the practice you can get before you fight Rumlow!”

Brock Rumlow.

One of the meanest, most vicious fighters of the PBA, heavyweight champion the past two years. He gave Wilson the head injury that put him out. He nearly killed Steve 3 years ago.

Infamously known as “The Hydra”.

Cut off one head, two more grow back.

And much to your dismay, your ex husband.

You had married extremely young. After running away from your small town in Georgia at 18, you met Brock Rumlow at a fancy party you snuck your way into with some girls you met at your job. He promised security, safety, wealth, love.

You got maybe two of those things.

You met Sam through Brock, he helped you through all of the legalities of divorce after you showed up on him and Sonya’s doorstep in the rain, soaked, bruised, and shaking.

It’s how you met the love of your life.

“Bucky…”

He hadn’t told you he was fighting Rumlow.

Sam regretted his words as they barely even tumbled past his cookie stuffed mouth as Steve shook his head, pity evident on his features as he looked at you.

“Doll…” 

His voice was so achingly gentle, his eyes so painfully soft as he continued to hold you, letting you work through every emotion that seemed to be hitting you like a semi truck.

“Please say somethin’, honey. Anything.”

“Um- when, when is this happening?” You asked, trying your best to keep your cool amongst the many other men and women in the gym.

The three exchanged looks. Bucky had a world of time to tell you, but he was so damn afraid of the exact reaction painted across your face at that moment.

Everyone threatened to tell you multiple times, but Bucky insisted it needed to come from him, and he’d get around to it. Wanda even went so far as to dial your number one day. 

You had picked up with your signature cheery hello and Bucky made a pleading gesture with his hands, desperation evident on his face as he wordlessly begged Wanda to keep her mouth shut.

“Hello?”

‘Please’ Bucky had mouthed.

“Wanda?”

Wanda shook her head before answering you, “Hey girl! Just making sure we’re still on for drinks this weekend.”

Bucky wanted to cry as he held you in his arms, not that he’d think you would be angry with him. You just had been through so much, you didn’t deserve to go through this too.

“Two weeks.” Bucky choked the words out.

You were stoic, staring at Bucky as if you were just staring straight at the weight machine behind him.

The three men held their breaths, terrified for the reaction you might give.

“Okay.” You said. Your voice suspiciously even. “Let’s beat this motherfucker.”

–

You never liked the private rooms at the arena.

They were nice, perfectly clean with comfortable couches and working restrooms. The mini fridges were stocked with sodas and snacks, the good kinds like cheez-its and coca-cola. They even had air fresheners in the corner of each room, making all of them smell like fresh laundry and flowers.

But that wasn’t your qualm.

You hated the rooms because all they brought were anxiety and pain. 

The moments before a fight were filled with unshed tears you struggled to keep inside and Bucky’s arms around you, whispering the sweetest of words that seemed to drip like honey and stick to your ears.

The moments after were filled with panicked breaths that you tried so hard to conceal as you watched your husband's unrecognizable face get cleaned and bandaged by his medical team while he held your hands in his own, rubbing soothing circles with his thumbs and occasionally bringing them to his lips to press sweet kisses to your wrists.

Today was no different.

“Sweetheart, it’s okay to be nervous.” Bucky said, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. 

His med team just finished checking him before the fight, so he was sat on a temporary medical stretcher, his large arms wrapped around your waist, you had your arms around his neck.

He tried to pull away to look at you but you just shook your head and held him closer, allowing a few stray tears to slip.

“Okay.” He whispered, running his hands up and down your back. “Okay, doll. I’m here. Right here, okay?”

There was a moment of complete quiet. Just you and Bucky, the only sound being the whirring of the air conditioner in the corner. You didn’t want to ruin it.

“Don’t fight him.”

Yet, you did.

Bucky furrowed his eyebrows. “Beck? Baby, that guy’s barely even-”

“Rumlow.”

“Doll, you know I wish I could…”

“Bucky, please.” You pulled away from him then, feeling the ache in your bones of no longer being in his hold.

Bucky’s heart severed at the look on your face, cheeks puffy and eyes swollen, fat tears rolling down your skin but ever so beautiful.

“He’s doing this to get back at me.” You were sobbing now, not even fully pronouncing your words.

Bucky wanted nothing more than to give in. To say ‘Okay’ and tell Tony he wasn’t doing the fight. Hell, he’d march straight into Fury’s office if he could.

Bucky held your face in his hands, firm, yet gentle enough for you to want to just melt into him. He pulled you closer, settling your legs in between his knees. 

“Tony did everything he could all these years to keep me from fighting him. We need this money, baby. We’re one step closer. We’re so close.”

You let yourself lean into Bucky’s touch, bringing your hands up to grip onto his wrists as you continued to cry. “I don’t want him to hurt you like he hurt me.”

Bucky hated thinking about what Rumlow did to you before you found the courage to leave. It took everything in him not to beat that sick son of a bitch every time their paths crossed. Which wasn’t often, but enough to get Bucky to think about it.

Luckily, Brock knew to steer clear of anybody from the Big Three. He wasn’t stupid. One wrong move and he could completely lose his contract. Though, it didn’t stop him from taunting Rogers or Wilson anytime he saw them, a disgusting grin splattered on his face, beaming with pride that he almost killed one of them and completely ruined the career of the other.

“I got this, babydoll. Then it’ll be one step closer to me and you.”

–

“Bucky ‘The Winter Soldier’ Barnes!”

The announcer’s voice pierced through the stadium, causing you to cringe. He hated that name, it was chosen for him by his father, whom Bucky resented throughout the entirety of the man’s life, until quite literally the day he died. He tried to change it, but everyone refused. He couldn’t change his brand this late in the game.

“And aren’t we lucky to have the infamous Big Three in the arena with us tonight!”  The other announcer exclaimed as Bucky walked up to the ring with Steve and Sam in tow, his walk up song blaring through the speakers.

“And all three wives in the stands, it’s a family affair!” The screens lit up with the view of you, Natasha and Sonya sitting side by side in the stands, all adorned in T-shirts with Bucky’s face on them, and you did what all 3 of you were trained to do. 

Smile and wave.

It was rare that all 6 of you were there at the same time. There was usually a straggler or two in the mix. Either someone had to stay home with the kids, a relative was in town, work came up, or you stayed backstage to sneak away from the fanfare.

“And don’t they all look stunning as ever!”

“Get this camera off of me so I can take a sip of my damn margarita.” Sonya mumbled, though continued to smile and point to her Bucky shirt.

You couldn’t help but cover your mouth as you laughed, trying to remain composed for the camera so nobody would speculate later. You could already see the fans on twitter spewing lies about Sonya having an attitude and being ungrateful.

The camera changed to Bucky, who seemed to be looking right at you so you turned, making eye contact with your man.

He broke into the most gorgeous smile you’d ever seen and your heart burst just before he blew you a kiss, causing the arena to erupt in cheers. You caught the kiss and pressed it to your cheek.

“What a sweet moment, but it’s time to move on.” The announcer’s voice rang in your ears once more.

“I love you.” You mouthed.

“I love you more.” Bucky mouthed back.

–

The fight with Beck went as everyone predicted. Bucky won, of course, but not without a fight from Beck. Which left him bruised and bleeding, but nothing nearly as bad as you some of the times you had seen him before, which was a thought you hated but it was a relief for now.

Bucky could feel the ache down to his bones. 

Not of pain, or exhaustion, or anger.

The ache of how much he loved and completely adored you as he looked down at you, your head in his lap, completely enthralled by the movie playing in front of you as if the two of you hadn’t seen it countless times. Bucky could recite it beginning to finish.

“Here’s looking at you, kid.”

Bucky spoke along with Humphrey Bogart on the screen and you smiled, slightly turning your head to look at your husband, and he was already looking at you.

“Sap.”

Bucky smirked and leaned down to place his lips on your temple, lingering there for a moment before sitting back up and letting his eyes return to the movie, his fingers mindlessly running up and down your torso.

You stayed that way for a while, positions switched, Bucky’s eyes glued to the TV, and yours glued to him.

The purples and blues on his face made you frown, and you could just cry at how beautiful he looked, face illuminated by the black and white of Casablanca, his perfect lips unconsciously mouthing the words.

You yearned for this life forever with him. Everyday he promised you were one step, a couple thousand dollars closer to living up to his contract and getting all of the money he was owed. He could be a trainer with Sam. Still bring home consistent money, but be safe,

Safe.

The word rang in your ears until you winced.

Safe. Safe. Safe. Safe.

Nothing about your life, except for Bucky, felt safe. 

It felt completely out of control, unpredictable, scary.

Bucky knew that and it broke his heart to know you went through everyday life being scared out of your mind. He’d break his contract now if he wasn’t completely certain, without a shadow of a doubt, that the two of you were going to come out the other side of this happier and more secure than ever.

“We’ll always have Paris.”

You’ll always have me.

–

Bucky had been at the gym for nearly 6 hours.

Sam put him on a strict “No visitors” rule, and “Yes, Mrs. Barnes that applies to you.”

And an “Especially, you!” From Tony.

Bucky didn’t have his phone on him, and you understood, he really did need to focus, the fight was in 5 days. Steve assured you that his phone would be on and close to him in case of emergencies, same went for Tony, Sam and Wanda.

So, you decided the best way to spend your time was with Sonya and Nat, using them as a distraction while the three of you holed up in your apartment, sipping seltzers and playing drinking games like you were teenagers again. Sonya left the girls with their Aunt for the day.

“Okay, if you could marry anyone in the big three, not including your own husband, who would it be?” Sonya asked, a smug look on her face before she added, “If you refuse to answer you take a shot.”

“Barnes. Without a doubt.” Nat said without hesitation and Sonya laughed at her transparency, covering her mouth with her hand.

“What?!” Natasha asked as you laughed as well, clutching your stomach.

“Have you seen where you live? Not only is it gorgeous but Bucky lets you decorate it however the fuck you want! And I’ve never once seen you have to ask him to do anything. He even cleans! Cleans!!!”

You and Sonya continued to cackle as Natasha continued to ramble, tears streaming down your cheeks while you clutched onto each other’s hands.

“Nat, baby, if you were so unhappy with Steve you shoulda said something!” Sonya joked, still holding back chuckles.

“I’m not unhappy with Steve! Wouldn’t trade him for the world! But, gun to his head, I had to trade him or else he’d die, I’d pick Bucky!”

You laughed, shrugging in agreement. You couldn’t blame her.

“You know what, I think I’d go with Mr. Barnes too. Y’all know I love Sam and I love our girls and don’t slap me for saying this either but he is entirely too easy on the eyes.”

The three of you burst out laughing again. You didn’t feel the slightest bit annoyed or jealous. These were your best friends, your sisters, who loved their husbands, and you, and each other’s husbands, and Bucky like family, and protected and fought for you like family. You thought it was kind of endearing actually, that they could see how yours and Bucky’s love was something special.

“You never said your answer, babe.” Nat said, gesturing to you with her can.

You pondered for a moment. Both men had been so good to you on so many different levels.

“Sam, but only because he was so good to me with the whole Brock thing, I don’t know if I could ever repay him. And you, Son.”

The vibe changed after that, your friends’ faces softened and the air felt heavy.

Sonya shook her head, exhaling through her nose, mumbling your name as if she were scolding you.

She wasn’t.

“Nothing can compare to that fear I felt. Nothing. It still keeps Sam up at night too.”

You frowned.

“But we’d do it again a million times if you needed us to. We would.”

She leaned forward, taking your hand, “Don’t ever, ever, insinuate that you owe us a damn thing. We fucking love you.”

You smiled, not realizing you were crying until the tears were wetting your lips. You were quick to wipe them.

Natasha had stayed silent for the most part, letting the two of you have your moment, she hadn’t been around then.

“And even though I wasn’t there I also fucking love you and would probably die for you.”

The moment was over almost as quickly as it began, the three of you going back to drinking and asking each other outlandish questions, until your phone rang.

“It’s m’ husbandd!” You sang, holding the phone up to your ear and smiling, your cheeks burning from intoxication.

“Hi, gorgeous. I’ve been tryin’ to open the door for ages. Did you lock the top?”

You gasped and slapped a hand to your mouth before hurriedly running to the front door, fumbling with the lock only for a moment before swinging it open to reveal a tired and amused Bucky, followed by Steve and Sam, lazy smiles pulling at their lips.

“Oh, my handsome boys! I locked you out! However, will you forgive me?!” You threw your arms around Bucky, falling into his embrace and he responded by peppering your face with kisses.

“Make me a double jack and coke and I might consider it.” Sam said, sauntering into the room and into the dining room, to sweep Sonya off of her feet no doubt. Steve did the same, before muttering, “I’ll show myself to the refrigerator.”

“Good man.” Bucky responded as he walked you into your home, shutting the door behind him with his foot.

“I missed you.” You mumbled against his lips while he kissed you again.

“Oh, my doll, my soul ached for you.”

“You watch too many 50’s movies, Barnes.”

“Are you complaining, darling?”

“Not at all.”

“Well then, here’s looking at you, kid.”

–

Bucky was stressed.

So incredibly stressed he felt like he might throw up.

He was fighting Brock Rumlow today.

He knew he could take him, that’s not what Bucky was worried about. He was worried about you. The thought of you in the private room, tears rolling down your face and shaky breaths filling the air, with him unable to hold you made him feel sick. He wanted you to stay home, in fact he practically begged you to stay home with Natasha and Sonya to keep you from turning on the TV but you completely refused. You’d be there, sporting a T-shirt with his name and face on it, and you’d look Rumlow dead in the eye while you celebrated victory with Bucky.

You would not hide.

And Bucky was so incredibly proud of you. His brave girl. But that didn’t change the fact that he was worried out of his mind.

“It isn’t too late to change your mind, doll.”

You were applying last minute makeup in the bathroom of your private room in the arena, Bucky behind you, his chin resting on your shoulder.

“I’m only leaving this arena when you do.”

“Okay.” He said softly, pressing a kiss to your shoulder.

“Whatever you do, baby, block him out. Don’t listen to his taunting. He’s trying to get in your head.”

Bucky nodded, wrapping his arms around your waist and lightly squeezing.

“Any chance you wanna back out together?” You asked, a sad smile on your face, knowing the answer.

Bucky only sighed and kissed your cheek.

It wasn’t long before Steve and Sam came to collect Bucky, or maybe it was. You could’ve stayed in that bathroom forever if it meant Bucky wouldn’t get hurt.

You followed behind him as he exited the room, his large hand engulfing yours. You had to get to your seat and he had to get to his place to talk and warm up before his walk out.

You connected your forehead to his and looked into his eyes, giving him a nod and a kiss before you separated, going to find Tony and Wanda, who would take you to your seats with Nat and Sonya.

You weren’t as high up in the stands as you usually were, requesting to be right next to the ring for this fight.

Everyone questioned the decision but you put your foot down. You wanted to be in Bucky’s eyeline, wanted him to easily see you. 

You wanted to reach him easily if anything went south.

You didn’t pay attention as Tony patted your shoulder, or as Nat and Sonya squeezed your arms when Brock’s walk out song began, or the sympathetic glance Wanda shot your way when Brock looked at you with a nasty grin.

Bucky entered the ring and your heart stopped.

His eyes were glued to you.

You nodded.

He nodded.

“Lookin’ at you.” He mouthed.

“Always.” You mouthed back.

You don’t know where that became your thing in the past two weeks, or how it just now blossomed even though the two of you had been watching that movie for ages, but you adored it and thought it to be incredibly sweet.

The moment was short lived before Brock started mouthing off, but Bucky kept his cool, his hands clasped behind his back and his head held high.

You couldn’t hear what he was saying, though you were sure you didn’t want to.

Bucky was thanking God you couldn’t hear what he was saying.

“You take pride in the fact that you stole what was mine, Barnes?!”

Bucky said nothing.

“I wouldn’t think sloppy seconds were your style.”

Nothing.

“I see you’ve got your bitch sitting in the front row. Tight leash, huh?”

His blood was boiling but he didn’t flinch.

“Does she scream for you like she did for me?”

Bucky was just waiting for the ref to blow the whistle, he was itching to slam his face into the mat.

“She’s a good fuck, isn’t she Barnes?”

The whistle blew, and it was Bucky who was face down on the mat in seconds.

You wanted to gasp when Bucky went down but you held your composure, not only for him but also for the thousands of eyes on you, no doubt just waiting for a hysterical reaction.

But Bucky was quick, and regained himself quickly, taking his turn to pin Rumlow to the mat, holding his arm behind his back so he could not get back up.

It was brutal. The entire fight was vicious, blood and sweat ran down both men’s faces, drenching their necks and chests and you wanted to cry at the sight of Bucky’s already swelling bruises on his knees and face. His chest was heaving, and the look in his eyes was something you had never seen, even in all his years of fighting some of his toughest opponents in the ring. It was dark.

He was angry.

For Bucky, this was the best way for him to take out his anger on Rumlow for what that man had done to you. The years of nightmares and overthinking and tears and anguish.

“Damnit, I said no!” Bucky’s voice thundered across the kitchen, in perfect timing with his hand flying through the air to run through his hair and you flinched.

Your Bucky.

Your lovely Bucky who danced with you as the moonlight pooled into the room through your curtains on nights where you couldn’t sleep. 

Your gentle Bucky who wiped your tears and washed your hair when your days were just too much.

Your patient Bucky who sat with you and instructed you to breathe with him, your hand to his chest when he’d come home to you panicking.

Your Bucky.

And you fucking flinched.

“Bucky I- I’m sorry. I just-”

He shook his head, his angry demeanor had completely vanished, his pretty blue eyes soft and beginning to fill with tears.

“Sweetheart, please don’t apologize. God, please don’t.

And just like that you were in his arms, a complete weeping mess because of what that man had put you through.

What Brock Rumlow had put you through.

That sick son of a bitch that was in front of Bucky now, a disgusting smirk on his face, blood seeping from his gums and smearing onto his teeth.

Bucky was certain he could kill him if it wouldn’t land him in prison.

“Come on, Buck.” You muttered, your knee rapidly bouncing up and down. You hadn’t noticed, but you were gripping Nat and Sonya’s hands.

You were trying your best to pay attention. Really, you were. But you kept going in and out of focus and flashbacks. You were sure people had caught multiple photos and videos of you spacing out, but you couldn’t really bring yourself to care.

Wanda has asked you multiple times if you wanted to go back and sit in the room, take a breather and maybe drink some water but you refused. You’d be right here.

And when the fight was finally over, when Bucky finally stood victorious over Rumlow while the ref held his red glove covered hand in the air and the crowd cheered, you could breathe again.

He was drenched in blood and bruises but you couldn’t feel anything except relief.

Bucky looked at you and you couldn’t help the tears that began to gather in your eyes and spill down your cheeks as you smiled at him. Nat and Sonya were cheering and hollering, jostling your shoulders and jumping up and down, planting kisses on your cheeks and the side of your head and you could barely notice.

Because Bucky was looking at you.

The ref let go of his hand and he made a dash to get out of the ring and to you, shoving past Sam and Steve trying to congratulate him, completely ignoring the med team trying to lead him away to check his injuries.

You. You. You.

You met him halfway even though your knees felt like jello and your hands were shaking, you took his face into those shaky hands and pressed your forehead to his as his hands rested on your waist.

“You did it.”

“I did it.”

–

Luckily, Bucky didn’t have any major injuries. After some stitches and some compression wrap on his ribs and wrists, he was cleared to leave.

You just couldn’t believe it. One of his biggest fights to date and he was walking away almost unscathed.

It almost felt too good to be true.

Despite how tired everyone felt, this was cause for celebration. You all decided to retreat to your respective homes and get ready for a nice dinner, just the 8 of you.

“Bucky this place has a coconut blood orange margarita!” You said from the bedroom as Bucky continued to get ready in the ensuite bathroom. You were putting on your shoes while browsing the menu on Yelp. You could never visit a restaurant without checking the menu first.

“That sounds right up your alley, doll!”

“I know!” 

Bucky emerged from the bathroom, looking as handsome as ever in his white button down and black slacks.

“Have as many of those as you want, sweetheart. Long as I get to take this” Bucky’s fingers ran along the fabric of your black dress, just simple cotton with a long slit coming up to almost your hip, “Pretty thing off of you when we get home.”

“You can do whatever you want to me when we get home, Mr. Barnes.”

Bucky smiled, his large hands grabbing at your waist as his bottom lip made its way between his teeth.

“God, you are so beautiful, Mrs. Barnes.” He hummed.

“As are you, my love.”

“Here’s lookin’ at you, kid.”

“Always.”

–

Dinner was completely perfect. Nothing but laughter and jokes, bread being thrown across the table while the waiters weren’t looking and you and Wanda taking secret sips of Tony’s $200 champagne when he was in the bathroom or on a call.

Bucky was never not touching you. Whether it was a hand gripping your thigh or his arm around the back of your chair, his fingers gently tracing the length of your arm, or your hand in his.

And, God, was he radiant.

His smile was ear to ear. His top buttons on his shirt were undone, showing off his chest and you could absolutely just eat him up. It was like heaven hearing him laugh at some stupid joke Sam had made or when Steve would get flustered at Natasha’s flirting after she’d had a couple glasses of wine, or Sonya scolding Sam after an inappropriate joke. He even took a couple photos with fans who had just watched the fight, all of them ecstatic to take a photo with the Bucky Barnes with the scars from the fight still fresh on him.

You were both so happy even once you decided to get the check and wrap up dinner. You’d had 4 coconut blood orange margaritas, a celebratory shot of tequila and Tony had even been kind enough to let you have a glass of his fancy champagne.

“You deserve it after these past two weeks, gorgeous.”

Bucky had agreed. You stuck by him ferociously and put on the bravest face, even in the presence of Brock Rumlow, you stood tall. He was so proud of you.

You were trying not to trip over your own feet in your much too tall heels on the way out to the valet. You felt fuzzy and drunk but you still couldn’t shake the feeling of the valet watching you entirely too closely.

“Bucky that guy keeps staring.” You whispered and Bucky’s head whipped around, the valet turned his head immediately.

“You’re a diamond, sweetheart. People can’t take their eyes off of ya.”

You nodded and smiled, though you were still entirely too uneasy, and Bucky could tell.

“Car’s comin’ around soon, baby. I gotcha.” His grip tightened around your waist and he moved in front of you so his body was blocking yours, but you could still see him. He wasn’t looking at you, he was looking at Bucky.

Steve’s car had barely pulled up to the restaurant when it happened.

It was like everything happened in slow motion.

You saw the gun first, Bucky’s eyes were still on you.

“What were you thinking?” He sobbed.

But that’s just the thing, you weren’t thinking. There wasn’t one thought in your head besides Bucky as you ripped yourself from his arms and shielded his body with yours, and gave him not even a second to react before the sound of a gun rang.

The valet was tackled to the ground in seconds.

An angry fan of Rumlow’s, no doubt.

How Bucky’s security team didn’t catch on sooner was beyond you. He had security with him everywhere, though they stuck to the sidelines so as to not disturb. There were a lot of wild fans out there who got very angry very easily about the outcome of fights, and it just wasn’t safe to go out alone.

You were in shock, your hands clutched your stomach but you didn’t even register you had been shot as scarlet red liquid thick as syrup seeped through your black dress and into your fingers.

Bucky’s arms were around you in an instant as he lowered you to the ground. You could hear the commotion and panic of other restaurant patrons around you. 

Blood was seeping into his white shirt. Your blood was seeping into his white shirt. He didn’t care. He couldn’t fucking care, not when the life was trickling out of you right before his eyes.

“Baby. Oh my god, oh my god.” Bucky was shaking, his voice thick with tears as he held you as close to him as he could.

“Somebody call 911!” Sam.

“I’m on it!” Tony.

Bucky wiped the hair from your face as his tears began to splotch on your face, he couldn’t bother wiping them.

Not when this could be his last time holding you.

You tried to close your eyes but Bucky tapped your cheek firmly. “Ya gotta keep your eyes open, sweetheart. Gotta stay with me, come on.”

You nodded, your head lulling to rest comfortably on Bucky’s chest as his body shook with the most vicious cries that had ever ripped through him. You continued to look at him, those pretty eyes that he adored so much looking up at him, but there was barely anything there.

“Bucky-”

“Save your energy, doll. Please. Ya gotta stay with me, okay?”

Your hand felt like heavy stone as you brought it up to hold Bucky’s face, weakly wiping his tears. “I love you.”

“No, no, no. Keep looking at me, baby. Keep lookin’ at me. Please.”

“So much.”

Bucky planted a kiss on your forehead as he continued to sob.

“I love you, doll. I love you so goddamn much that’s why you gotta stay, alright?”

He pulled away. “Here’s looking at you, kid. Remember? You remember, doll? Always.” 

You didn’t respond.

Bucky screamed.

–

Hospitals are so fucking gross.

It was something you firmly believed in since you watched your great grandfather die in one when you were 14. 

Full of dead, sick and dying people. Full of weeping family members and friends. 

“Don’t let me fucking die in a hospital, Bucky, I swear to God.” You had said.

Bucky always laughed when you went on your rants about how much you hated hospitals. Talking loudly and waving your hands around in the air. 

“I’ll never let you die in a hospital, sweetheart. Promise.”

And now here you were, lying in a hospital bed after 12 hours of surgery, hooked up to a heart monitor and Bucky thought how do you still look so impossibly beautiful?

It was just you and Bucky in the room. Tony, Wanda, Steve, Natasha, Sam, Sonya and their girls were all squished together in the waiting room. None of them had it in them to sit even an inch apart.

Not when they could lose you.

Bucky hadn’t cried in an hour. His eyes dry but still red and heavy, a headache that he was waiting to go away after a nurse gave him Tylenol booming in his temples. His blood stained shirt was discarded as soon as they wheeled you in for surgery. Steve gave him an extra T shirt stashed in his car.

He threw up in the bathroom while he was changing.

“You gotta wake up so you don’t die in a hospital, honey. Can’t have ya kickin’ my ass when I get to heaven for lettin’ that happen.”

The thought made his lip quiver. The doctors were hopeful after the surgery, but things don’t always go as planned. And he was fucking terrified.

“I’m gonna kick your ass for even letting them bring me to this awful place.” You mumbled.

The sound that came from Bucky had to have been embarrassing. Somewhere between a laugh and a sob as he stood up and immediately started fawning over you and pressed the nurse button to alert them you were awake.

“Oh, sweetheart.” He cried, his hands cupping your face and placing kisses all over your cheeks.

“I’m okay, Buck.”

“What were you thinking?” He sobbed, his face buried into your hair and you broke, wrapping your arms around his neck. The pain in your stomach didn’t even register because you just needed him closer.

“I wasn’t. I wasn’t thinking. I just- I saw the gun and he was gonna kill you Bucky.” “Don’t ever do that doll, not for me. God, please not for me.”

“I was so scared, Bucky. I didn’t wanna scare you but, I had- I had to tell you I loved you. I couldn’t leave this earth without telling you I loved you.”

“I know, baby. Just please, I can’t lose you. I can’t fuckin’ lose you.”

His whole body was shaking as he continued to hug you when the nurse came in. He awkwardly separated himself from you, his large body pushing itself off of the tiny bed.

She checked you over and ran a couple tests, and afterwards promised to go and alert your friends and allow them to come in.

While you waited to be bombarded by the people you called your family, Bucky had situated himself next to you in the bed, his arm around you, allowing you to put your weight onto him, and careful not to disturb your wound.

“Hey.” You whispered, bringing your hand up to hold his.

He looked down at you to find you already looking at him fondly.

“Here’s looking at you, kid.”

Bucky smiled, the most beautiful, genuine, sincere and heartstopping smile. He kissed you.

“Always.”

[drulalovescas]

it's funny how much more blatantly ROMANTIC Dean and Cas' relationship gets when you compare it to the relationship between Cas and Sam. 

Just this simple comparison that highlights the stark difference between these two bonds makes one go: oh...

Because Cas and Sam are FRIENDS. And they are FAMILY. BROTHERS even. And yet...

Can you imagine Castiel being brainwashed into killing THOUSANDS of Sams???

Or Sam fishing Castiel's bloody trenchcoat out of the river and carrying it with him from car to car??????

Or Sam on his knees looking Cas deeeply in the eyes while whispering I NEED YOU and breaking Cas' brainwashing???

Or Sam staying a year in Purgatory FOR Cas and praying to him EVERY NIGHT????

Or Sam gifting Cas a MIXTAPE with the songs from his favourite band his parents fell in love to????

Or Sam on his knees by Castiel's dead body, all speechless, shattered, broken????

Or Sam preparing Castiel's body for the Hunter's Funeral alone???

Or Sam on his knees, sobbing, and praying to Cas for forgiveness????

Can you imagine all that????? No, no you can't.

[thebluester2020]

Any general sex hcs for the bachelors? ;)

OBVIOUSLY 👀. Buckle up, you're gettin' a mini rant anon.

Minors DNI Plz!

Elliot

As much as I write Elliot being a gentle dom whose the king of munches. I can't help but believe he'd want to have his pretty princess moments as well!

This is where I go into suggesting that Elliot likes the idea of his spouse taking control in the bedroom here and there.

The farmer is already super strong so the idea of Elliot being picked up and essentially manhandled by his spouse? It gets him hard so fast to where he's nearly embarrassed at the fact.

But I think he'd take it a step faster

Especially by suggesting to his partner that both of them act out a scene from his book. All for the sake of being able to write the scene out better, of course!

And as a loving spouse who's totally not onto how your husband seems to like being thrown around a bit...you're more than happy to oblige!

Sebastian

Weirdly enough? I think he'd be into public sex.

Nothing like fucking out in the middle of the day but something more low-key like sneaking away from Spirit's Eve to fuck close next to the river or something. Once you two are at the stage of having sex, the both of you are more than comfortable with one another.

As awkward and shy as he is, he's more than happy to fuck you silly next to either the river or behind a couple of bushes!

Bonus points if he's really getting into the spirit of Spirit's Eve by incorporating some fearplay by teasing you that "Oh, can't you hear the monsters in the distance? What a shame if they suddenly escaped and walked in on a monster slayer by fucked like a whore."

And the feeling of you clenching around him even harder, your moans turning into needy whines and embarrassed gasps would make him throb inside you as he clenched you tighter against his frame.

All of a sudden, he'd want to fuck you outside even more from then on out!

Sam

Okay so this one isn't exactly a headcanon but—

Hear me out—that one cutscene where the farmer and Sam are in his room and they're almost caught by Jodi.

Not exactly a headcanon but I think that moment (as embarrassing as it was in the moment) would've awoken a side to Sam that he never knew he had in the first place. Namely, the kink of almost being caught.

Ofc, he wasn't ready to admit it to his crush but the moment you suggested doing something now that you were in his room and underneath his sheets.

He was all on board for that plan.

Shane

The fandom has spoken and agreed upon this already, Shane is a dom.

But—I don't think he would be disturbed or outright say no to the farmer dominating him. Nothing even close to what he does to you (degrading you, a few slaps here and there, etc.) but the idea of you taking control of your pleasure via you pushing him around a little? He nearly gets dizzy from how fast blood rushes to his cock at the sheer thought of it.

You shoving on his chest to make him lay down on the bed while you fuck yourself stupid on his dick? He'll take that and a little side of something more! And bonus points if you suddenly get achy in the middle of sex and then beg him to take control and fuck himself up into you.

Harvey

As much as I like the idea of Harvey being a dom. I can't help but see him as a submissive???

I imagine that the stress and toils of being a doctor would make him too tired to really take the lead in the bedroom, automatically giving the role to you if you were willing to take the reigns and if you are? You're in for a world of surprises with just how cute Harvey is when you two are fucking.

I'm talking about—imagine this for a second; walk with me. Harvey with a dog collar and a leash but you're the one pulling the leash, urging your adorable doctor to fuck you even harder while he's settling into the role of being the perfect obedient dog fucking his master so earnestly! I should write a fic on this wait

Or, better yet, I can see Harvey coming home from work more tired than usual. He's not in the mood for sex but you can tell he wants something.

That's where your hands and mouth come in and the noises he makes are sinful as he practically pleads for you to keep going! And thankfully for him, you have no intention of stopping anytime soon.

Alex

I kinda feel like Alex is super vanilla with some light kinks that are only inspired by the farmer. And most of them would probably surround the fact that he's a hunky jock.

Lots of rough fucking mixed in with him showing off his strength via fucking you in positions that no normal person would be able to hold up for anything longer than a minute. Besides that though? I think he'd also be...kinda mean?

Not exactly degrading but just mean, kinda like a bully more so teasing you that "Oh you can't do this, you can't do that" and stuff like that but when it comes from Alex's mouth, it sounds wayyyyyy better.

Unbeknownst to you, you'd be falling right into his trap when he teases you that you totally can't handle him fucking you into a mean mating press without passing out.

You being the strong-willed farmer that you are, you're in it to prove him wrong! Only for him to be proven right when you're balling up your hand against his chest crying that his dick is so good that you're on the verge of blacking out.

[tragedy-of-commons]

HOMECOMING.

── dan heng x gn!reader

summary: Your boyfriend invites you to spend Christmas break with him and his eccentric (but lovable all the same) family. You oblige.

contains: modern and university au, established relationship, comedy and tooth-rotting fluff, christmas shopping, the astral express fam all make appearances (pre-2.7), setting is very american-inspired (sorry), cringefail exuberant reader, one hurt/comfort scene

word count: 11.4k oops

taglist: @singularity-sam, @mitsvriii, @tetrachrxmacy, @bladism, @mikashisus

notes: for @azuresaqua, written for the @/stellaronhvnters secret santa 🎄 this took all month, but i hope you like it crys!! also this totally looks fine on dark mode. if you think otherwise then ummm SHHH. dividers by @/cafekitsune!

Your phone blares with its usual grating ringtone, startling you out of your reverie.

Scrambling to pick the device up, you’re pleasantly surprised. So much so that you drop the sweatshirt in your free hand mid-fold. The caller ID reads Dan Heng, lighting up your homescreen with his contact icon.

A warmth buzzes in your chest as you look it over, a giggle erupting from your throat. The selfie is of you and him, with Dan Heng looking particularly spacey in the midst of the bustling street.

You’re now considerably less bored. You’ve been looking for an excuse to procrastinate doing your laundry all day, and it just so happens to entail talking with your lovely partner. Not waiting any longer, you clear your throat, tap the green accept button, and press the speaker to your ear.

“Hi, darling!” you chirp, shifting to sit more comfortably, “I miss you. How’re you holding up? Still in the library studying the day away?”

The other line crackles with life. “Hello. I feel the same,” Dan Heng informs you matter-of-factly, his cadence clear as a river. “And no, I’m not there anymore. It was… too crowded for my liking.”

That’s no surprise. Finals are upon the whole campus in a few days, and it shows. There is a distinct, depressing atmospheric pressure that weighs upon your fellow students. 

The scourge of exams, the final boss of the semester, the enemy of mental fortitude and peace. Though Dan Heng loves your university’s expansive library, you can imagine he’d be less enthralled when a hundred tired young adults are populating it to cram.

“Yeah, I can imagine,” you wince. “Well, look on the bright side. We’re almost done, yeah? Soon enough, the library will be solely your domain once again, and you can be a doll and skim the archives in my stead.”

His voice takes on a sarcastic lilt, affection hidden underneath the words like a hard-won reward. You think it’s an indulgence for him. “If my memory serves correctly, I had to smooth things over with the librarian on your behalf. I don’t think it’s a wise idea for you to loiter there any longer, as energetic as you are.”

How cheeky! Honestly, you’re not even that loud. Sometimes you laugh a little too hard at benign things (like the way some book titles sound out of context), or react too vibrantly at the wrong times (like exclaiming profanities after tripping over your own feet), but those aren’t crimes.

Even now, ruminating over this reasoning, you still don't understand how you got banned from the library. Unreal.

“Hey, come on now! I don’t even loiter… I just want to spend time with you, even if studying isn’t something I burden myself with. That guy has it out for me,” you insist, growing smile threatening to split your face in two. “Anyway, I’m not saying this to be rude, but…”

“But?” Dan Heng asks cautiously.

“You normally don’t call first. Is everything okay?”

You mean it when you ask. Though you love your boyfriend, he isn’t the best at initiating longform communication. Sometimes you’ll get a text with a link to a video he found interesting, or he’ll update you with life (mostly just classes and endless papers), and then you’ll respond by quadruple-texting and then maybe calling him. For hours. And then asking to come over to his dorm. And then falling asleep with him. All at your request, which he doesn’t seem to mind.

That being said, it’s atypical that he takes up the mantle, which makes you worry. And if you worry, Dan Heng feels guilty. Trying not to be patronizing, you patiently wait for him to speak on his own terms, humming to yourself idly. You could, y’know, do your laundry, but you’re not gonna do that. Free will is so cool and awesome.

“Yes, everything’s fine,” he assures, words measured. “I just have something I’d like to run by you, but I didn’t want to interrupt if you were busy.”

“I’m never busy! Spill!” Extremely curious, you pluck your phone from your ear and put Dan Heng on speaker. While you’re at it, you also stand up and pace the short length from your bed to the door of your suite, clothes abandoned on the floor. 

“It’s about this winter break. We haven’t conferred on plans yet, but I was planning to ask you if you’d meet my… my family. Of course, it all depends on your availability - don’t feel too rushed to answer, I’d just like to know in advance so I can get things in order on my end.”

Woah, what just happened? You stop walking to think, gears spinning and grinding and pushing all sorts of implications. His family. 

Dan Heng has one, yes, he divulges details every once in a while and elaborates on his mishmash of a homelife when you ask, but you’ve never heard him refer to these mystical figures as family. They’ve always been referred to as my friend, followed by their name. You know them well, committing each to memory despite not having met them yet: March, Caelus, Welt, and Himeko. 

Of course, you pester your boyfriend about them. Nothing too invasive, just remembering the important details. Asking for updates about March’s creative ventures or inquiring if Himeko’s coffee has gotten any more palatable, to name a few. 

In turn, Dan Heng would make a comment about how they also pester him about you. It’s like a big game of telephone - this indirect communication is what you’re used to. It’s kind of surreal to think about actually meeting them after all this time.

Then the joy comes. He wants to share this part of his life with you. Is this the natural next step in your relationship, like all seasoned married couples fondly reflect back on? Dan Heng wants to spend three and half weeks with you, uninterrupted, at home. His home.

Tears prick at your eyes, but you blink them away, grinning like an absolute fool. Does he really think you’ll say no? You’d already do anything to make him happy. Despite being several buildings and crosswalks away from him right now, your hearts feel impossibly close together.

(It’s not like you have anything else planned.)

That thought is pushed away as quickly as it comes. No time for you to be bitter when it’s the season of giving and all things cheerful! This opportunity is nothing short of a blessing… you’re saved from being cramped up inside the inevitably deserted hall for the entirety of break. You’re saved from having to admit to Dan Heng that I have nowhere to go and nothing to do like everyone else. 

Shock, joy, relief. 

“Oh my god,” you laugh, breathy. With a repressed-young-man-trained-ear, you catch a soft sigh of relief dissipating on the other line. “Yes, of course I want to meet them! Dude, this is so exciting! What if I died? What if I blew up the entirety of campus in my merriment? What then?”

He is far too used to your theatrics to react too strongly to them at this point. “...I wouldn’t put it past you. But I’m glad you said yes. There’s just the issue of details to work out.”

Dan Heng proposes different times on different days to leave. Well, he probably went more in depth than that - he likes to schedule and plan for the future, even if he doesn’t always stick to those self-imposed regulations in the end - probably droning on about the cost of gas or something. But you’re way too shell-shocked to respond coherently, muffling squeals and noncommittal hums that give away exactly how much you’re not paying attention.

Digesting about half of the information, you bring up what you have left to do before winter break after he does the same: registration for next semester’s classes, turning in textbooks for certain courses (thank the stars renting is affordable here), and the remaining days riddled with finals. 

Despite how daunting these tasks are for others, you find yourself enjoying the denouement. Guessing on scantrons has gotten you pretty far, and the other obligations can be swiftly eliminated through sheer will and lots of Christmas music. Your Spotify listening history must look like some kind of tinsel-festooned warzone.

This will be your first ever Christmas with Dan Heng. He’s never been extremely festive by any means, but you cajoled him into a matching Halloween costume a month ago, and he is fond of horror movies despite how silly they can be, offering little bits of trivia or his critiques on the film’s score. 

You think this holiday, spent at his home, in his hometown - will be the source of many happy memories. It’ll also, hopefully, be another endless source of teasing. 

Images flit through your mind, the most notable of which being your stoic boyfriend in a truly hideous red and green sweater. You snicker to yourself until your amusement is disturbed by Dan Heng promptly clearing his throat. 

He says your name in that soft way that makes you weak in the knees. You’re under his spell just as much as he is under yours. You should take to reminding him of that more often. “Just to be clear, is this alright with you?”

It’s so much more than alright, you think. Winter, for all of its bitter cold and unforgiving responsibilities, still teems with life as the leaves die. For every day you’ve spent alone during the last two Christmases, you’ll be repaid with one in kind spent with Dan Heng and the people he trusts most.

You’re blessed with the sweet thought that you’re now a part of those treasured, trustworthy few as well. 

You know you’ve been treasured for a long time, but feeling it actualized, solidified in action, is as homey and warm as a burning hearth.

“Yeah,” you breathe. “I am, darling. I’m so excited that I think I’m shaking!”

You tighten your grip on your phone, almost leaving indents in the shitty case, attempting to still your vibrating fingers. His response is a mumble along the lines of you should probably eat something, and I’m glad. Dan Heng can be a little awkward, especially over the phone, but that just speaks of his sincerity. He’s glad you’re coming. 

You scuttle over to the window beside your bed, yanking the blinds askew to peek outside. A glimpse of the first frost coating the student parking lot promises something more. Something magical and childlike.

Joy. You have a feeling you’re going to be extremely insufferable to any and all scrooges (people rightfully sick of dealing with your chipper attitude) in the coming days. Oh well, they can suck it up because it’s the most wonderful time of the year, and you’re in love with the most amazing person in the world. 

You tell him not to worry, which he sighs at, and then the brunt of the conversation is over. The following silence is calm but electric, dragging on for just the right amount of time. A well-deserved respite, you think. 

“I love you,” you confess.

“...I love you too. Touch base soon.”

With that, the call ends abruptly. Your cheeks feel hot and you’re reinvigorated, daydreaming of Dan Heng’s expressions obscured by distance - you want nothing more than to see him, but you know your partner well enough to realize when he needs a break; to realize when he needs his alone time. You would never begrudge him for it.

That was a fucking whirlwind.

You shove your phone in your pocket after nudging the blinds back in place. There’s so much to do, and you’re definitely gonna need another run-down of the schedule (preferably in person), but for now, you’ll let yourself be over the moon and overrun with task paralysis. 

Triumphantly, you turn to flip off your abandoned pile of laundry. Free will is so cool and awesome.

“We are so back!”

You’re so impatient that you’ve started counting the hours.

The final stretch is a lot more boring than you thought it was going to be. Picking a time to check out of your dorm, fixing up any scuffs on the walls from your shitty posters before room inspection, actually passing your classes. The normal stuff. 

Both you and Dan Heng decided that you would leave at around three in the morning on the first day of break. It sounded bewildering at first, and you had levelled him with a look that made him hurriedly elaborate.

“In order to get there at a reasonable time, it’s the best way to go,” he’d said over coffee. “The drive isn’t more than a few hours, but if we leave right after routine inspection, we’d be arriving in the middle of the night.”

Though the mental image of showing up on a quaint little home’s doorstep in your pajamas and waking up the whole neighborhood with your knocking is funny, it’s not funny enough to quell your nerves. 

You’ve noticed, usually in the midst of trying to be productive, that the excitement is weighing heavily on your heart. Your hands are perpetually shaky, you’re sweating disgusting buckets, and you’re sure you look as if you’ve lost your marbles to any soul brave enough to strike up conversation.

That last part came to your attention when Bronya, your desk neighbor in your Interpersonal Communications class, dared ask you if she could borrow a pencil. She barely got the question out before she asked if you were alright. And if Bronya asks you if you’re alright, it means that you must look terrible. 

Sure enough, you are getting less and less sleep, and you’ve been prone to twitching. In retrospect, you probably had that wild look in your eye that screamed I am at rock bottom and it’s in the public’s best interest that I’m contained.

But you’re not at rock bottom! You’re just nervous, and it’s weird when you’re nervous, because such an occurrence is as rare as a blue moon. You’re going to be meeting Dan Heng’s family in a matter of days, and you’re expected to behave as a normal, functioning member of society. Unbelievable. Even the love of your life has noticed the difference in your behavior - he seems disturbed but respectful. 

You recall him asking if you were ill, which you had vehemently denied. Then he kissed you under the thin covers of his bed, and everything was fine for a moment.

But you think you’re feeling better on this day in particular. To distract yourself from the anxiety, you’ve sunk deeper into the holiday cheer. With Dan Heng at your side, you’ve blown off classes for the day to go gift shopping. The outlet mall near your university is always bustling, but during this time of year, you’d think there’s an overpopulation crisis wreaking havoc on your city.

Escalators are crammed with excited children dragging their parents along, there are decorations painstakingly put up in every nook and cranny, and you have a mission to see through.

“Thanks for ditching to help me out,” you preface. “It’d be way too difficult to shop for your family on my own. Just the idea of stress-buying things they may not even like… ugh. Also, wow! I realized you haven’t told me jack shit about them! I’m actually clueless.”

Dan Heng is not amused, but he doesn’t outright refute your assertion. “I suppose you have a point. And I didn’t ditch class,” he emphasizes, ears red. “Psychology got canceled.”

Here, among the sea of people, Dan Heng looks his least confident. While you, the person known for befriending every stray cat you meet, look your best.

The juxtaposition makes you feel fuzzy, and you know in your heart that he would've helped you anyway, even if he had class. He can be so obvious but so subtle at the same time. You tug on the sleeve of his sweatshirt once, purely affectionate. 

“Right. Uh, where do we start? Who’s the easiest to shop for?” you wonder aloud, crossing the stretches of marble and doing your best to peer down the massive store-lined strip. “We could start with March. She’s into crafty stuff, right?”

Your boyfriend tames a cowlick in his dark hair. “Yes. You seem to have a plan figured out already, but she uses up heaps of film while taking photos. An arts and crafts store would likely have the 600 type for her Polaroid. That’s what I had in mind in terms of a gift she’d appreciate.”

“We seem to be on the same page, but that just sounds so… impersonal! Bit of a safe choice, don’t you think? Let’s play it by ear and see what they have. I’m sure she’d also appreciate something handmade. I think I have enough time to DIY a gift; they probably have kits for all sorts of stuff.”

Dan Heng is starting off in the direction of the correct storefront. The display window is easily spotted, plastered with all kinds of paper mache ornaments. “You don’t need to fret. Knowing her, she’ll love anything that comes from you.”

You blink, grinning. “Really? Didn’t know I was so popular.”

“You have no idea,” sighs Dan Heng.

Warmly titled Make n’ Create, the door chimes, signifying your entry. Immediately, you’re assaulted by the smell of candles - a few hundred thousand, you hazard. 

Scents of vanilla and evergreen paired with cinnamon burn your nostrils as you survey the aisles of winding shelves overflowing with endless possibilities. Almost forgetting to return the greeting of the woman behind the counter, you snap out of your stupor and drag your boyfriend along.

Everything looks enticing… your savings account is telling you to be responsible, but your heart is telling you to snatch up and squirrel away any item of interest just in case. You wander the marble floor under the bright fluorescents, humming under your breath. “Hey, we can probably save some time and split up. Could you go look for the film? We’ll definitely get that along with whatever catches my eye.”

Relieved to have something to do, Dan Heng nods and disembarks from your side, perilously weaving between other shoppers buzzing with excitement. He mentioned that he deliberately put off Christmas shopping since you insisted on doing it together, the thought alone satisfying. 

The prospect of scrawling both of your names on the same box, passed off into eager hands. The words will read From: Dan Heng and his partner.

Rounding a corner, the pottery and ceramics section calls to you like a siren. There are stocks upon stocks of white, unpainted Christmas trees and wreaths, advertised as blank canvases to decorate as your own - paint included. Those are cute, but something relevant year-round would probably be received better. 

Impressions, impressions. Your gaze drops lower, dutifully searching…

Aha!

Ceramic jewelry dishes. Same gimmick as the trees and wreaths, but not necessarily seasonal. There are a few different types among the kits - heart-shaped, some with hinges that open and close, even some with music box elements with heftier price tags. 

Your intuition slaps you across the face multiple times. March will love one of these, you just know it! Cautious, you spare a shifty glance from left to right before squealing to yourself. The package in your hand is crisp and promising as you check over the price and instructions.

Dan Heng returns to witness your perfect find. You know this because you recognize the soft padding of his footsteps anywhere (which is not creepy). You turn to see him and the fond look in his eye - and the aforementioned packages of film he’s clutching. 

“Hey, you,” you chuckle. “You found it, great! Anyway, look what I stumbled upon. Do you think she’ll--” “Yes,” he breathes, suddenly decisive. “She will. Especially the heart one.”

Quickly heeding the ever-rare suggestion from Dan Heng, you discard the now inferior package and seize the heart-shaped one. “I trust your judgment. She has good taste, honestly. Thanks for your help, love, I appreciate it. I know for a fact she likes pink, and though my hands are a little clumsy… I’ll make a masterpiece outta this, trust me.”

He exhales through his nose. That’s a laugh if you’ve ever heard one. “You sound so resolute…”

“Duty-bound, if you will,” you grin. “We can move on to the next place if you’d like. Didn’t expect to be done here so fast.”

“...wait.”

You tilt your head, following his line of sight back to the shelves. He seems transfixed on something else there, and a few seconds go by in silence as you’re left to figure out what it is on your lonesome. 

Dan Heng has gotten better at speaking his mind - he was never bad at it, but sometimes words get tangled up in his reticent hesitation. You understand this well. So, you try to determine what’s caught his eye. The understanding you come to is a nice one. The lowest rung of the shelf, almost overshadowed, are more ceramics - no surprise there. But it feels like fate the way that they’re displayed; two sturdy coffee cups with intricate handles, then a miniature raccoon forever inlaid with a devilish expression, practically commanding a paintbrush to make its mischievous grin come to life with color. 

Himeko, Welt, Caelus.

You laugh, loud and bright, grabbing your boyfriend’s hand with a conspiratorial grin. “Four birds with one stone, huh? We’re gonna need a cart!”

Dan Heng is blushing. It’s subtle, not at all burning or obvious to any nosy bystanders, but it’s enough to make your heart sing with delight. You take it he’s glad that you picked up on his thoughts so wordlessly. 

He excuses himself after muttering something about going to get the cart while you smile like an idiot. A lovestruck idiot. A lovestruck idiot with a soon-to-be overdrawn bank account.

…well, not exactly. After you gather everything and go to check out, he insists on paying for all of it. You make sure to argue with him in front of the very amused cashier, reaching a compromise in no time at all thanks to your amazing negotiation skills. He’ll pay for this load (whatever), and you’ll pay for any remaining splurges today. It’s only natural you need to stop by a few more places, considering March has two gifts while the others only have one. 

By the time Dan Heng’s social battery is drained and yours is frayed, you have everything. An apparel outlet that you would’ve never stepped foot in normally now has your patronage; a golden brooch in the shape of a rose (that’s surprisingly affordable) for Himeko, a classy but patterned tie for Welt, and a trendy jacket for Caelus.

You think you’re the most jealous of that last one - it has many pockets and takes up enough space to suffocate a small orphan.

Hauling the bags into the icy parking lot, you suddenly stop in your tracks, feeling the generous weight of your spending in the process. “Hold on.”

Your tired but loving partner heeds your command. “What? Is something the matter?”

“We forgot to shop for each other,” you point out, sheepish and breathy. Seems you’ve both been so caught up in the tradewinds that you forgot. “Should we go back inside?”

“No,” he blurts, “I’ve already acquired your gift.”

Gobsmacked, you almost drop your share of the bags. He’s been holding out on you?! The surprise quickly fades into mushy limerence before it dulls. “Huh? When did you do that? Oh shit, I haven’t gotten you anything yet… dude, I’m sorry, I’ll head back inside, all secret mission-esque and find you something while you wait in the car--” 

Dan Heng shakes his head. “You… you don’t have to.”

The hell? Does he even know how Christmas works? “Of course I do, come on,” you push forward. Knowing you’ve already forgotten where you’ve parked, he strides out in front of you and leads the way, preparing to argue his case. “We’ll put these in the back, and I’ll find you an amazing gift, you’ll see.”

You both reach his little beat-up sedan (which you’ve aptly named Granny), while he fumbles for his keys. He sighs, rolling the frigid joints in his shoulders as he opens the driver’s seat to unlock the trunk. Setting the bags down on the gross pavement is unfortunately inevitable. You throw the thing open, already loading. 

Dan Heng’s rebuttal is almost startling.

“I don’t need an ‘amazing gift’. I have you.”

You freeze. Where did he pull that from? Are you hallucinating again? Is this like the time you stayed up for two days straight to half-ass a dozen unfinished assignments? Or maybe it’s selective hearing… such a line is probably from an old romcom that you’re mentally regurgitating and then projecting onto him.

But you don’t tease or ask him to repeat it. Instead, you choose to fully believe and embrace that compliment, warming your heart and your cheeks. His expression is obscured from your position, but he probably looks the same.

“I’m… really glad you think so, Dan Heng,” you almost whisper.

Before he can say anything else that’ll ruin the moment, you decide that’s your job! and slam the trunk closed, deafeningly loud. 

“But that’s unacceptable! I’ll find you something perfect in the coming days no matter what!”

You hear him sigh before you hear his approaching footsteps. “Try not to stress too hard about it. Also, open that back up, there are more bags.”

“Oops,” you giggle. “Why not ask me nicely, like in that Romeo way you did five seconds ago?”

Your other half rightfully elects to ignore you.

As you finish wrapping up with him at your side, the subsequent ride back to campus is in comfortable silence. The buzz of what’s to come lingers on your mind as you stare out of the passenger window at the familiar scenery. You’ll find time to squeeze in finding a gift for Dan Heng, you’ll make sure of it. 

But for now, what to pack for the impending trip…?

You wake to the sound of your blaring alarm. Scrambling for your phone to make the thing shut up, you’re blinded by the time. It’s 2:30 in the morning, you’re disoriented, and you desperately want to go back to sleep. But when you really come to a minute later after hitting snooze, it all sinks in. 

Your room inspection is over with, your finals have been taken (you didn’t fail any of them, yay), and you have to leave campus with Dan Heng in about thirty minutes. Surreal that you’re awake at this hour, you go about getting ready - this includes texting the man of the hour to make sure he didn’t oversleep.

To your satisfaction, he responds swiftly. To your horror, he mentions that he’s ready and waiting. Unfair, in your opinion - why is he always punctual, and why are you always late?

You look in the mirror at your haphazard reflection. Not too shabby; just a leisure t-shirt and some sweatpants, pulled together by the thickest jacket you have since it’s grown even colder out. Your bags are already packed and practically bursting at the seams, loaded with your essentials, and of course the presents for Dan Heng’s family. 

You spent all of your free time crammed between everything else painting the ceramics while he wrapped and made everything else look pretty.

(You almost got crudely mixed pink paint on your dorm wall - well, you did just a little bit. Luckily it came off without the need to go sprinting to the nearest hardware store in pursuit of a cover-up job. That would have been bad. Very bad. Also, you left the primary suite door open to ventilate, and at least three students walking down the hallway witnessed your perfectionism-driven breakdown. Also, your suitemate hates you now.)

All of that’s over, though. Making sure you have everything once, then twice, then three whole times - you decide it’s finally time to go. You lug everything out of your dorm, down the hallway, into the elevator, and wait as it descends.

You check your phone, updating your boyfriend as the cabin grinds to a halt on the ground floor. Outside is nothing short of beautiful, if not hypothermic.

Snow falls in tiny flurries that make the dark cement purgatory look like a dream. The floodlights leave some corners of the parking lot shadowed, but illuminate Dan Heng just right. You spot him and his old ass car smack dab in the middle of all the empty spaces, just about everyone having vacated already.

“Hi, darling,” your breath syncs with the air as a wispy cloud. You kiss his cheek. “You ready?”

“I have been for the better part of an hour,” he informs you, perhaps a little grumpy from waking up so early - or it could just be that wry sarcasm rearing its head.

You find that Dan Heng is neither an early bird nor a night owl, oscillating between the two like nobody’s business. He’s up when he needs to be, including now, softened under the touch of your lips. 

And so, without much fanfare, the road trip commences. It’s notably different than the other times he’s chauffeured you around - so silent and grave. It kind of puts a damper on the Christmas spirit you’ve so painstakingly adopted, but you think twice about cranking the radio. He is the one driving, after all.  

You offered to switch with him halfway, and to his credit, he thought about it. But then Dan Heng politely shook his head and muttered something about bad weather and hydroplaning. Whatever a hydroplane is, you aren’t sure what it has to do with you being untrustworthy behind the wheel. 

The pleasant blast of the heater, the occasional robotic warbling from the GPS app, and the noise of the light drizzle outside are your more talkative companions. You’re getting antsy; you feel it in the bouncing of your leg and how you mindlessly chew on the dead skin of your bottom lip. 

Should you try to ignore it? Put on your headphones and tune out? The thought is appealing. 

Instead, you pipe up a few minutes before you’re due to turn on the interstate.

“Wanna get coffee?” you singsong. “I mean, you especially are going to need the caffeine to keep awake. Sleep deprivation is, like, the number three reason people get into car crashes.”

Dan Heng huffs in amusement. You’re glad that got some kind of reaction out of him, glad that the stoney silence has been broken. But if you’re being completely honest with yourself (which you really hate doing), this detour suggestion is just an excuse to delay the inevitable. For all of your joy, lingering anxiety chips away at your trademark smirk. 

You decide to bribe him just a little. “I’m buying.”

He turns into the nearest place without any further prodding. The coffee, which you have successfully paid for by the way, is nice. The searing light of the menu options, clambering over Dan Heng to place your orders as loud as you can because you know it’s hard for them to hear anything - fleeting memories of taking orders at your high school part-time job and all that. 

As you take the cup holder tray from your partner, ferried through the drive thru window, he speaks up, much to your chagrin.

“You’re nervous,” he says, leaving no room for doubt. You continue to situate the drinks and glance into the side view mirror, taking a sudden rapt interest in the line forming behind you.

You decide to lie. Maybe he’ll be merciful and let you work this one out on your own. “Me? Nervous? Whatever gives you that impression? Perhaps you needed the coffee more than I thought… poor Dan Heng, so tired that he’s hallucinating…” you whistle.

Gaslighting, unfortunately, doesn’t work. Persuasion check must’ve rolled off. Dan Heng says your name, soft but stilted in a way that makes your heart ache. He rolls out of the drive thru after checking the rearview mirror, his knuckles white around the steering wheel. They gain their color back after he realizes you’re staring at them.

“I’m nervous too. Extremely.” You’re back on the highway, and you fiddle with the GPS to get yourself back en route, taking in his words as they come. Dan Heng is being candid with you; encouraging. “Going back home is always an… ordeal.”

You deflate a bit, conflict warring on your face. Considering how flustered he gets when you dote on him, albeit within his limits, you can’t imagine how exhausting being fussed at from all angles would be. Not like he’s a kid, but that he’s returning home after another semester of being independent.

“Yeah, um, I can imagine. I don’t know much about that stuff, but it’ll probably be amplified with me coming with you. We’ll get through it together and have a great time.”

You say it to convince yourself more than him, but it works. Perhaps that was his plan all along?

“Yes,” agrees Dan Heng. “We will.”

The interstate stretch, predictably, is the most sizable chunk of the trip. Temptation whispers in your ears tantalizingly, the idea of a nap or two at the forefront of your sleep-addled mind. The soft pitter-patter of the rain against the windshield battling with the snow makes it even harder to resist.

So, you doze soundly in your reclined seat, nice and warm. You think you feel a hand, cold and calloused, brushing against your cheek, but fighting it would require waking up to demand he focus on the road! It retracts, and you’re out for a good long while.

You know that for a fact, because when you wake up, dawn is encroaching. The stars are still visible against the bleeding horizon. You feel much better, even if Dan Heng suppresses a smile at your expense - you seriously must look wrecked from a few simple hours of rest. Geez.

You yawn, waking up to chat. Your boyfriend looks unruffled, cool eyes scanning road signs for a place to apparently fuel up.

He tells you that there’s only about an hour or so left, the ETA checking out. Nerves flood your system, but after a deep breath and stepping out to stretch your legs, you feel better.

“Who knew you were so good at pep talks,” you tease, if not to hide the fact you’re completely enamored with him. You fill up the tank after he cuts the engine, purposefully yelling so he can hear your words through the rolled up windows. “My man, the motivator!”

You hear his ensuing groan, claiming mental victory as the pump dings. Easy. 

Staring at the signs of his hometown, a foreign sense of wonder engulfs you as you split from the interstate. Has that diner been there since Dan Heng was a kid? Did he even spend all of his childhood in one place? Should you ask, or is that too invasive? 

The trees lining the grassy outcrops are tiny and thin, likely just having been planted by the city. How much has changed since you’ve started monopolizing his time?

Your questions spill out, and he does his best to answer them - but he also seems nostalgic, wistful and pained. Your earlier revelation rings true; you don’t know much about Dan Heng’s past.

That’s slowly changing as he tells you some stories, though his words are messy and create a muddled image in your head. You don’t push too far, chattering his ear off in response to keep things lighthearted. 

(Maybe you’ll be more open about yourself too. Maybe.)

Then you careen into a residential area. It’s more suburban than you expected for a city-town hybrid of this size, streets of apartment units and then gated communities of houses. You whistle because you’re almost there, you can feel it!

“Which one is it, huh?” you pester, practically pressing your face against the glass. “Come on, pick up the pace a little!”

“I am not keen on getting a ticket this far in. A few more turns.”

True to his word, a row of townhouses come into view. They’re not massive, but the few you see are brimming with character. Full, decadent awnings and aged brick matched with just the right colors to make your brain happy. They look lived in, filled with memories that you’re eager to digest and, hopefully, be a part of.

Dan Heng pulls into the driveway of the oldest-looking one and parks. The GPS drones on, informing you of your arrival. Your anxiety has almost entirely abated at this point, thank the heavens and stars, and it’s near time to face the music with open arms.

“What a nice place! I guess we should greet them, and then start unloading?”

He nods. It’s still cold out, but less so than at school. Stepping out onto the pavement gives you a little thrill, and you trail behind Dan Heng, stuffing your hands into your jacket pockets as you stare at the front door.

It has a little brass knocker in lieu of a doorbell, and you reach out to grasp it on instinct. Your hand brushes his that had reached out at the same time.

You wiggle your eyebrows at him. 

He sighs and finally knocks after you reel your grubby hand back. It all comes down to this - kind of anticlimactic from someone else’s perspective, but paramount from yours. Who will answer the door?

The answer is immediate: Welt. The thing creaks open, revealing a tall, older man with graying brown hair and glasses. He’s utilizing a cane and looks exactly like you imagined, distinguished and fitting right into the scene with his creme turtleneck and kind eyes. He regards you both, first Dan Heng, then you. 

“You’re here early. Welcome back - and I see you’ve brought them, as promised,” Welt’s voice is warm, and you get the feeling the small smile he’s wearing is quite rare. “Come in, we’ve been waiting on you two. It’s an honor to meet Dan Heng’s esteemed partner.”

You’re utterly awestruck, responses forming on your tongue only to dissolve into garbled nothings. As you robotically follow inside, you watch as Dan Heng falls into an awkward-looking side hug with Welt - quickly averting your eyes so they can have a moment. Then, you can’t contain it anymore, speaking to your heart’s content.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you too. I’ve heard a lot - well, not a lot, but enough,” you ramble unapologetically, taking in the decor of the foyer, “and I’m really excited to be here, you have no idea. Are those Ray Bans? You have a lovely home!”

Your boyfriend, wetting his chapped lips, communicates silently with Welt. You think it’s something like a greeting, a familial synergy you can’t quite grasp yet. Maybe it’s a warning: I am dating an idiot chatterbox, please be nice to them. 

That seems unlikely; necessitates further observation. This is just like Animal Planet. 

“Thank you, I recognize your sincerity. It’s a rare trait, these days,” he mutters mostly to himself, probably reminiscing on some mysterious past. He goes on to curtly answer your more frivolous questions while leading the two of you deeper inside. Dan Heng squeezes your hand and you share your own telepathic glance with him. 

This is going well!

The interior of the living room is striking, bearing the marks of age and care. You recognize most of the furniture as antiques - leather couches and loveseats with beautiful upholstery, a sage grandfather clock standing tall near the stone fireplace, and overflowing bookshelves that’d satiate even the most voracious of readers.

Paintings adorn every wall, not a square inch left blank. The mantle boasts many trinkets and baubles of various cultures, some of which you recognize - and some of which you don’t. Those could definitely be a great conversation starter! 

So charming, so quaint, so rich in history! You’d wax poetic and stare at each nifty little thing until your eyes bled if you could.

“Darling, I didn’t know you were so well-off! Maybe I should start calling you Mr. Old Money.” “...please don’t.”

Welt hides a chuckle in his gloved hand before surveying the room. “It seems everyone is doing their own thing. I’ll go get Himeko, she must be in her study,” he throws a look over his shoulder, uttering your name with just the right amount of phlegm. “Welcome. Don’t be afraid to make yourself at home.”

And you’re left alone to breathe for a short minute. You run your thumb over Dan Heng’s knuckles reverently, pondering aloud. “He’s so cool! He’s an animator, right? I’ve heard you mention something like that before.”

He nods. “Indeed. He’s worked on various pitch bibles for all kinds of IPs, but he’s more content on assuming quieter roles in the industry, or so he’s told us. His passion is what carries him, not the spotlight.”

“...that’s a great way to live,” you marvel. The air feels vulnerable after that, the nature of something as intangible as family running through the undercurrents of the house. “Do you think he’s right for being so humble?”

“It is not my place to comment, but… I can say that I look up to him,” he admits, giving your hand a shy squeeze. “Himeko is similar. She’s--” “--enthralled to finally meet your acquaintance?” 

A new voice cuts in. Himeko is also a vision, donning a winter shawl that wraps around a sepia-colored dress with tights, topped off with a beret. She looks absolutely stunning, and you’re overwhelmed with the urge to compliment her profusely. She stands at a comparable height to Welt, expression softened with mirth.

“It’s long since overdue,” Himeko extends a handshake which you take. Your jaw must be scraping the floor, which Welt and Dan Heng see fit to ignore.

She whips a ruby curl out of her face to scrutinize you - shit, you probably should’ve worn something nicer. First impressions and all that!

She greets Dan Heng with a hardy embrace after letting your hand go. He stands rigid.

“I was beginning to think he was making you up,” she teases. “When you both settle in, we have a lot to catch up on. Can we help you with your bags?”

You grin at your boyfriend, nudging him with your elbow. “Whaddya say, huh?”

He nods, shoulders slumping as if he’s made it past some great obstacle. 

“Great,” Welt interjects, heading back towards the front door with Himeko in tow. Dan Heng turns to you, voice akin to a whisper.

“March and Caelus are probably in their bedrooms or,” he sighs, “conspiring elsewhere. If you’d like, you can go on and look around while we deal with the luggage. It’s a lot to get used to, and you’re better off getting your curiosity out of your system.”

You gasp, splaying a hand over your heart. “You say that like I’m some unruly child! I’m not going to break anything…”

Dan Heng gives you a look.

“...this time,” you begrudgingly add.

Before he can hurry after them though, you gingerly (roughly) grab him by the collar and give him a smooch. It’s over as quick as it began, and you barely get a glimpse of his scandalized visage before you set off to explore. 

The adjoining hallway leading you out of the living room is painted stark white, all kinds of framed photographs hanging on display. Most of them are noir shots of famous people; movie stars, historical figures and the like. You stop in your tracks to look each of them over.

Some aren’t so impersonal. For example, there’s one of Himeko standing in a train station, posing on the platform with a massive and austere steam locomotive behind her. There is also a gray-haired dude at her side, pointing at the train with an exaggerated expression of shock. Caelus. And the photo’s signature - March 7th. 

Right on time, before you can continue snooping, you hear the distinct noise of bickering further down the hallway. You grin, sensing drama like a blood-sniffing shark. 

The muffled racket becomes clearer as you approach what is probably a bedroom door, and you hesitate for only a second before not-rudely throwing it open. You can deal with the consequences later. After all, this sounds more like banter than a serious argument - you would know!

The first thing you see are two figures with their backs turned to you. Pink and gray hair hunched over a desk - Caelus sitting and clicking furiously with March pointing at the one of the three flashing monitors, posing a threat to this hell of a gamer setup.

“You actually suck at this! Log off already, Dan Heng and his guest are going to be here soon,” she chastises as Caelus huffs, him dying moments later (in Pac-Man of all things). “Seriously, this is as boring as watching paint dry. I don’t know how you have so many viewers…”

You blink, scrutinizing the monitors again. Yes, there’s Pac-Man, but there’s also a live chat that seems to be going crazy, dozens of messages burying even more dozens of messages. There’s a facecam too, framing all three of you - wait, three? 

Oops. You’re live on Twitch.

“March is just a grade-A hater,” Caelus declares to his audience, “always betting against me. I’ll have all of you know that I, Whisperer of Dumpsters, Toilet Destroyer--”

A groan. “Not this again.”

They seem oblivious to the fact that you’re here, and you clamp a hand over your mouth to suppress a laugh. Clippers must be going nuts right about now…

Dan Heng never mentioned that Caelus took this career path - but then again, you can imagine he was trying to avoid the headache of you pestering him with stream references. Either way, you’re here now, and you’ll be damned if you pass up an opportunity this golden.

“They’ve been keeping me in the basement for three years!” you yell, causing both of them to jump and turn in bewilderment, “They’re frauds, kidnappers, liars--”

“We’ve been what?!” March shrieks. She’s either 1.) quickly adjusting to your improv and playing along or 2.) now wholeheartedly convinced that you’ve been held captive here under the floorboards.

The chat lags from how fast messages are coming in, and Caelus cackles maniacally before mashing a shortcut on his keyboard to switch to a Be Right Back screen. What a performance, and you also burst out in laughter, not unlike his. 

“Well, you certainly uh… made an entrance,” March grimaces, looking only slightly mortified. That sourness fades into a friendly smile as she scratches the back of her head. “It’s so nice to finally meet you. Oh my god, c’mere!”

Caelus stares at you with beady eyes as she bounds towards your form in the doorway, engulfing you in a giant hug. You feel like crying again. This was supposed to be unserious, but you can’t help but already feel at home. 

“It’s nice to meet you too. Your hair clips are so cute!” 

You exchange pleasantries for a moment before you hear creaking. Caelus has stood up now, an unreadable expression on his face as he approaches slowly - like molasses slowly. One menacing stomp in front of the other like he’s trying to intimidate a bear. You tilt your head curiously while March spins around to look at him.

“What are you doing?”

“Group hug. Bring it in,” he answers cryptically.

March wrinkles her nose. “Why do you sound like that? You’ll creep them out!”

Caelus turns to you, looking for confirmation. Immediately, you understand what you must do. This chemistry you share with this kindred spirit should be studied in a lab under a microscope.

“Collective embrace,” you parrot. “Bring it in.”

“...so you’re both weird, huh? Just great.”

You respond by smushing both of them in a crushing hug, a chorus of giggles echoing off the walls, all three of you being the perpetrators. 

This year’s holidays are off to a great start.

Things surprisingly don’t drag on. 

What that means is a little hard to quantify; nebulous like carbon monoxide. You can’t see it, you can’t taste it, but it certainly takes its toll. 

The first day comes to a close after a shared dinner, a feast, really - you’d never seen so much food in your life and you scarfed it down like a starving man in between conversation on every topic under the sun. You’ve fallen into the swing of things so naturally, and while that’s good, it’s a little too good.

You’ve never considered anxiety to be a formidable foe in your life. You carry conversation, pass the cornbread, spice up everyone’s lives (sometimes at the detriment of your reputation), and most importantly, you do it with a smile.

But after a night or two spent in Dan Heng’s almost spartan bedroom, tossing and turning, you’re starting to believe you’re in more trouble than you thought previously.

The nerves are easy to suppress when you’re bouncing energy off someone else, lost in the moment, because you do truly enjoy the socializing - but that feeling lingers.

And when you’re left with nothing to do, staring at the ceiling with a vengeance on the third night of your stay, all of the doubt catches up. It gains ground until your heart thunders in your chest.

You’ve learned that Himeko is buddy-buddy with the department of transportation, doubling as an engineer and cartographer. She’s even had a part in restoring defunct trains to their former glory, spearheading many vacations along the way. 

(You don’t deserve to be privy to such a meaningful story.) 

Caelus can’t ride a bike. Neither can you. Upon coming to this seismic revelation, he offered to take the plunge with you in an attempt to learn if you were interested. You agreed before he could even get the full sentence out. 

(You’re only good at goofing around.)

March insisted that you be a temporary proofreader for her own university essays, most of which being on topics you could never wrap your head around in a million years.

Shenanigans ensued until you ended up denouncing higher education as a whole, choosing to believe in her own freestyle structure rather than whatever hellish rubric was being peddled. 

(You’re too airheaded to help in a normal way.)

You’ve even grown closer with Welt. You two listened to the crackling of the old gramophone in his respective study, chiming in with your own thoughts on his archaic but classic music taste. There was a little bit of discussion on media preservation, your earnest passion pairing well with his own. 

(You’re coming off too strong.)

But you feel the worst about the man sleeping next to you. 

You’re supposed to be in your highest spirits, but Dan Heng has gotten good at spotting your tells. The tightness of your smile comes off as overjoyed to your new friends, but strained to him. The guilt of possibly ruining it all is unforgiving, tightened about your neck like an evil scarf.

He knows something’s up, and you know that he knows. It’s on you for not being forward about your struggles - hell, you’ve scolded him countless times about how he clams up about feelings and all that mess. You’re just a little bit of a hypocrite, then. What would you even say on the subject?

Sorry I’m such a buzzkill? Sorry I haven’t been more open with you? Sorry that I’m the actual wors--

You muffle a sob, burying your face in Dan Heng’s pillow. You just need to calm down, even if that means getting snot on his nice shams. You hiccup, and to your muted horror, the mattress creaks with movement.

Voice rough with sleep and alarm, Dan Heng calls out to you. You tense but otherwise refuse to lift your head up from your comfy sanctuary, chest rising and falling in snappy bursts.

You can’t face him like this, so tangled in everything you feel. You feel so unbelievably guilty, even if a more sensible part of you knows you’re just overthinking.

“Please look at me.”

If you’re making comparisons, Dan Heng must be the wind. Gentle and mild like a calming gale, never a torrent eager to knock you off your feet. No, he is sobering like a wayward breeze. His plea is so soft, and you only hate yourself a little bit for giving in and meeting his eyes.

His hair is sticking up in every direction just like yours. It’s not a foreign sight - you’ve slept in the same bed at least a hundred times, but the worried frown tugging at his lips is new. You sniffle and wipe your face, words a jumble of nonsense.

“Try to breathe. It’s going to be alright,” he swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing. “I’ll wait.”

That last part might sound impatient in some other context, but right now, it’s resolute - it’s a promise. He’ll wait until you’re ready, however long that will take.

You crumble, shakily inhaling and exhaling until you sit up to mirror his stance. You fumble to embrace him, which he accepts readily - not unused to your spontaneous acts of affection. 

However, there’s a stutter in his movements. He’s not used to seeing you so put out, you hazard, unable to even produce coherent speech.

���I love you so much,” you gasp.

“...is that what this is about? Or is there more?”

Dan Heng strokes your hair through your tearful explanation. You know you don’t make a lot of sense right now, but it’s all you can manage. He still listens with scholarly attention to detail, not doting or prying. He’s here. He’s here for you, just like you are for him.

The dam has burst. “Have I ever told you about my family?”

“No,” he admits. “Do you want to?”

So you tell him enough. You only paint a vague picture; recounting endless disagreements and fighting, being kicked to the curb and ostracized, scrambling to pick up the pieces of your barely adult life before being thrusted into college all alone with no one to watch out for you. You’ve only dropped hints beforehand - after all, who wants to reopen old wounds? 

Silence can be just as powerful of a response as spoken words. Dan Heng understands, you know that already, but the way he holds you is compelling evidence alone.

Dan Heng’s family is wonderful; being part of it makes you feel a little sick inside, somehow made worse by his ministrations. “It may be unfair of me to say, but… I think I know how you feel. My life before I came to live and travel with everyone was lonely. Lonely and painful, and you don’t deserve to feel that way. Ever.”

When you don’t respond, he continues. 

“But I’m now content to call them my cherished companions. And you,” Dan Heng emphasizes, syllables unsure despite his best efforts, “are one of them as well. We haven’t pried too much into what is painful, but I’ve always felt like we’ve never needed to. That was my mistake.”

He makes a point of thumbing the residue of your episode away, an apology in and of itself. Of course he blames solely himself, you muse, biting back a playful reprimand that wouldn’t land well right now. Your breathing regains a semblance of normalcy as you muster up enough gusto to respond. 

“No, don’t be silly. I want to talk to you more about our lives before each other, I think. Together, y’know? I-Isn’t that just so romantic? Being emotionally constipated doesn’t do either of us any favors.” 

Your tone has lightened, enough for him to notice and furrow his brows in concern. Given, you rebound at the speed of light, never wishing to linger on the bad - partially because sadness is unpleasant and uncommon, but mostly because you feel like you’re unable to. That’s just how you are. However, the way he looks at you is encouragement enough to move forward.

You feel better, you do, but your eyes are still red and puffy. The night outside is still cold and unpredictable.

“Whatever you need,” Dan Heng nods. He can only be so sworn in his promises - so determined - before you crack a smile.

“Alright, easy on the white knight talk,” you chuckle. Realizing how close you actually are, there’s a pause. You can smell the mint of his shampoo, and your arms are tangled with his in some kind of human knot that’d have Houdini sweating. “It’s weird…”

He stares at you, unimpressed. “I thought you wanted me to talk to you in a ‘Romeo’ way.”

You only huff, unable to come up with a retort for once, which is fine. You wipe your face again and drag him down with you back onto the bed, which he allows, because Dan Heng is too good for you and also happens to be a complete pushover. At least you can use your frazzled, unstable emotional state to get what you want.

Case in point: you spoon him. The covers assume their original position after you wrangle them to behave, holding him close from behind. A little part of you does this so he can’t see if you start up the waterworks again, but he doesn’t need to know that.

“It’ll be alright,” Dan Heng reminds, surrendering to your whims as always.

The dust settles and you’re inclined to believe him. There is still much time left, with Christmas day being the focal point of your visit, and you’re starting to get sleepy again. That’s always a good sign; sleepy, relaxed, and with a head drained of pressing worries - at least for the present moment.

Your eyes close, bereft of tears as you murmur your agreement.

To your surprise and horror, this house didn’t have a Christmas tree. It’s not like it mattered that much, but it was still shocking nonetheless. With a building exploding with life, there wasn't an evergreen decked out in ornaments or a pine covered in lights to tie the room together.

Honestly, where were they going to put their presents? 

However, you forgave this transgression a day or two later under the condition that you would be allowed to pick one out. Everyone seemed to be fine with it, with you offering to cover the cost this close to the 25th - and your determined expression that would’ve been pointless to argue with. Santa Claus works hard but you work harder.

Caelus and March jumped to go with you, much to the others’ relief, and that was more than enough hands on deck for you to hop in Caelus’s car and drive to the nearest tree farm in the dead of winter, borrowing some mittens and a cute knitted hat from March so you wouldn’t become a human popsicle before your 30s.

Uh, you did get a bit lost. You had to interrogate the shit out of the GPS and one poor local to get there; the latter was not your fault by the way! Caelus just so happened to be carrying a bat and had a concerning look in his eye. That put you in good enough standing to make it there, even if the selection of trees were picked over, leaving only the runts on sale.

All three of you turned away with your hands empty, opting to make a last minute shopping trip to the mall to buy a fake one. You were against it, but your suggestion to buy three small trees and place them really close together was vetoed. “Majority rules” is totes unfair…

But the mall trip turned into a lot more when you actually got there. Both of them ganged up on you with a reminder that you haven’t gotten Dan Heng a gift yet! Honestly, you could say you regret confessing that to them earlier, but you totally needed to hear it.

Imagine you, waking up on Christmas morning with nothing to give the love of your life! Deplorable, unforgivable, and tragically heartbreaking. 

And you had a council there to help you; people that know Dan Heng just as well as you do. 

“He’s so hard to shop for,” March had groaned, flicking through racks of clothes with a dark aura surrounding her. “Trust me, I’ve tried in the past. He always says he’s fine with anything, giving me zero hints…”

“Maybe get him nothing,” Caelus suggested after, more occupied with trying to steal coins from the nearby wishing fountain. Like one does. “You could run him over and he’d thank you politely.”

Similar experiences there. He’s always been more attuned to your wants than his own, which you’ve been trying to get him to work on at his own pace. Unfortunately, the place was about to close for the night since you already spent the day gallivanting around.

The burly mall security guard looked dangerously close to kicking your trio out, with at least one of you kicking and screaming, so you had to leave empty handed again. 

The others assured you that you’d find a present in time. You decided to go with the flow and hope that the heavens above would drop one into your lap by the day of.

Spoiler alert: they didn’t! Because Christmas day is now here, and it all seems hopeless. Well, aside from the fact that you’re all settled around the coffee table and a big, burning fire is roaring in the fireplace. 

There’s still a smile on your face as Welt and Himeko tear open their presents with wise, softened gazes. You can’t let your own mistakes ruin the moment, after all.

“Truly, thank you both,” Himeko croons, looking over her respective mug and brooch with awe. “I was prepared to perhaps play up the excitement a bit, but… I’m very impressed. Dan Heng, you’ve picked well.”

He flushes. “They helped me,” he nods to you.

“No,” she laughs, “I meant you picked a good partner.”

Before you can stammer out a reply, Welt chimes in. He’s inspecting the quality of his tie with muted gratitude - his new mug seems to only serve as a reminder that he has to drink Himeko’s coffee out of it. Hey, at least your heart was in the right place!

“I have to agree. Both of you must have collaborated seamlessly to shop for our preferences.” 

Caelus, wearing his big ass jacket that you and Dan Heng bought him, sprawls out across one of the couches like a housecat. “This is a lot better than what you got me last year, Cold Dragon Young.”

Dan Heng bristles and you burst out laughing at the expression he’s making. “Cold Dragon what?”

“Ignore them,” he pleads, lips twitching upward just a smidge; a ghost of a smile. Dan Heng really does like the teasing more than he lets on. 

March was almost reduced to tears by the jewelry dish you painted for her - which is more of a jewelry box at this point - but she recovers from her reverie and endless thank yous to giggle at your partner’s expense, something that’s swiftly turning into a group effort. “One time, we all got roped into fistfighting these bad guys in a club, and after Dan Heng took care of them--”

“I was left with no other choice--”

“--then that became his ring name. Cold Dragon Young!” she finishes. 

Himeko and Welt exchange an exhausted look. You immediately decide that the moniker is going to become his contact name in your phone until the end of time. You also start wheezing (and also kind of blushing) at the idea of Dan Heng, the near-pacifist, duking it out with someone. “S-Sounds like you guys have been everywhere…”

“...we have,” your boyfriend clears his throat. You sense a topic change, or even a segue, drawing your attention. You sit up a little straighter and wipe the comically-induced hysteria from your eyes. 

He’s looking at you expectantly with some of the earlier heat coloring the tips of his ears. The room lulls into silence as he makes his way over to the tree to retrieve a box from underneath the branches, wrapped in pastel yellow with no bow.

Dan Heng hands it over, and when your skin brushes against his for a fleeting second, you feel the clamminess of his palms.

“Oh, me next?” you blink. Shaking the thing a bit too aggressively, listening for any indication of a bomb (just in case), you get a good feel of its weight. Light and mysterious. You’re too busy making mental guesses that you don’t notice Welt shepherding the others out of the room.

“Yes. I hope you like it,” he watches as you tear open the wrapping paper and the box itself. Dan Heng is so beautiful it’s almost criminal, unintentionally batting his lashes in a way that has you swallowing drool.

You scoff. “Of course I will!”

Inside the box rests… two tickets? Your mind jumps to movie tickets first and foremost, but that’s obviously not the case; the ones here are golden with faded ridges and accented with red, sparkling as you fawn over them. Then you read the printed text lining the bottom of the thin cardstock.

The Astral Express. They’re two boarding passes.

“No way,” It’s the name of the restored steam locomotive in the picture, the very same one that Himeko told you about working on during the height of her career. “Does this mean…?”

Dan Heng drinks in the surprised part of your lips, scratching at his neck. “You mentioned that you wanted to travel. I, and the rest of us, thought you’d like to accompany us on a trip. If you don’t want to, that’s perfectly fine,” he promises. “I can get refunded, and we’ll all stay. But it’s scheduled to start the day after tomorrow and last until the new year.”

You don’t want to cry again, even if they’re happy tears, so you launch yourself into his arms as a welcome distraction. You may be imagining it, but you think you feel him slump in relief. Again. How long will it take to get it through his thick skull that he could never disappoint you?

“Duh, of course I want to! Darling, what kind of jerk would I be if I said no and made everyone cancel their plans? Oh my god, oh my god--”

“You m-may want to breathe.”

His concern is so genuine - that’s not even meant to be teasing. You scream into his shoulder, already thinking of nights spent in velvet cabins and days spent watching the cross-country scenery go by on the silver rail. With good food. Lots of it. 

“I’m breathing,” you huff, in fact, short of breath. “Thank you, Dan Heng. I love it so much.”

You pull back, box and tickets still safe in your grasp despite your earlier flailing. The magical moment fizzles, your joy stunted as guilt emerges. “But I… I didn’t get you anything. I’m so sorry, we shopped all over, and everything’s been so hectic…”

He closes his eyes and shakes his head. “I meant what I said.”

“Huh?”

“When we were shopping all that time ago,” he clarifies. “I don’t need anything but you. And with the others coming along,” Dan Heng gestures to the tickets, everyone else’s likely stowed away somewhere safe, “It’s the best gift I could ask for, more than I could ever want.”

You don’t rebut him this time.

The guilt has all but vanished, and you pull Dan Heng into a tender kiss. This has, no joke, probably been the best break of your life so far. Not to mention you have a whole new trip to look forward to, with a whole new family at your side.

Just as you think this perfect moment is unshakable, hoots and jeers break out from behind you. You whip around, dazed, and Caelus is cheering both of you on like his life depends on it.

“Wooooo! I told you they’d like it, dude! May your love burn bright for years to co--”

…then March clamps a hand over his mouth and hauls him away. 

Dan Heng is so embarrassed that he chokes on a laugh. You make sure to join him in kind, the present moment also holding the infinite possibilities of the future.

thank you for reading! it means the world to me 🎅🎁 on ao3

[lenakluthor]

totally random question but do you read supercorp fics? and if yes, which ones are your favorites?

i absolutely read supercorp fics! i've been devouring ao3 basically since i finished the show. here are a few of my faves: people will say we're in love by AKAWWJJD - this was recommended to me by a friend and was the second ever supercorp fic i read. it's angsty, but it's BEAUTIFUL and it's one of my favorite fics from any fandom, ever. it's basically a rewrite of crisis and the aftermath of that (with a heartbreaking, post-reveal beginning), and it's just so, so good. it really set the bar for me in terms of supercorp fics and i still think about it to this day. it's heartbreaking and poignant and just. perfect.

the banks of certain rivers and ever more light by @i-am-robie - these two go together, but if you only read one, read ever more light (although i highly suggest reading both). i found this one through a gifset based on the fic, and i am SO happy i did. this is the fic that made me believe in fluff again. i'm not kidding, before i found this fic, if it wasn't tagged as angst, i was not reading it. this one? completely changed my opinion. it's so soft and sweet and it gives you the same butterflies and good feelings kara gets around lena. i actually love these so much that i am in the process of binding them into a book.

same old blues by @searidings - this one is, in my opinion, hands down the best portayal of lena i've read so far. it captures her anger and hurt and emotions so well and it just feels exactly like lena. it picks up after the end of season four and is exactly how i imagine lena's reaction to kara being supergirl. obviously it's canon divergent, but this one just really nails lena. it's angsty and emotional and just SO good. the author describes it as "horny enemies to lovers" in their note and that really sums it up pretty well.

you're in my blood, like holy wine by @jazzfordshire - this one is one of my favorite AUs. it's a loose practical magic AU with witch!lena, but much more developed and fleshed out than in the show. not only does it have really well written supercorp, but it also showcases a really well done friendship between lena and sam. i'm gonna be real i'm very picky about AUs, but this one GOT me. i definitely recommend it.

i also highly recommend checking out all four of those authors' other works. robie has an AU that i really enjoyed, searidings has a fun little competitive supercorp one shot, jazzfordshire has one of my favorite smutty one shots, and AKAWWJJD has a mxy rewrite that is just wonderful.

i've read so many more that were really worth reading, so i highly recommend scrolling through the supercorp tag on ao3 and filtering out the results to find ones you might be into. i could've mentioned a bunch more that i enjoyed, but i figured i'd keep it to my top four and the honorable mentions because the authors all happened to have multiple i love. i've also got like, more than 40 open ao3 tabs currently, so i know my favorites list will definitely be growing.

[so-much-for-stardust6]

One Year- Wes Borland

-

-

-

summary: it’s you and wes’ 1 year anniversary and you decide to sing a song dedicated to him. after the show you guys celebrate in the dressing room.

lowercase intended

warnings: smut & not proof read

a/n: this was requested by @mizfitneeds !! apologies for taking forever to write this but i always love their ideas! also btw y/n is singing like jack off jill’s version of ‘love song’ 🫶

-

-

-

-

i smiled as i stared out to the crowd, sweat glistening my body.

“okay guys, we’re gonna do something a little bit different tonight. this is dedicated to my wonderful boyfriend, happy one year wes.” i spoke into the microphone.

the crowd cheered as i smiled brightly. i turned around to look at my band mates, nodding at them. they began playing and everyone instantly started to scream out. we were doing a cover of ‘love song’ by the cure. i gave a quick glance to the side and came into eye contact with wes. i smile softly at him before singing.

‘whenever i’m alone with you

you make me feel like i am home again..’

memories of wes and i flashed through my mind as i sung. wes always understood me, more than anyone in my life.

‘whenever i’m alone with you

you make me feel like i am young again

whenever i’m alone with you

you make me feel like i am fun again, again’

~flashback~

i sat on a park bench, staring at the water glisten in the sun. next to me sat my wonderful boyfriend, wes. he was watching the water too, playing with my hand that he’s holding.

“i love you, you know.” he blurts out.

i was taken aback by his sudden words. he always blurts out ‘i love you’s but adding ‘you know’ made me nervous.

“yeah, of course. i love you too. what’s up?”

he fully turned to me, taking both my hands into his own.

“i love you so fucking much, so so so much more than you think. i always think about you every second of my day and i hate being away from you. so to get to the point, my question is…do you wanna move in with me?”

my stomach immediately bursted with butterflies as a giant smile appeared on my face.

“yes!”

he laughed before bringing me into a deep kiss, one full of passion. he pulled away and hugged me so tight.

~flashback over~

‘however far away, i will always love you

however long i stay, i will always love you

whatever words i say, i will always love you

i will always love you’

i sung those words as i made straight eye contact with wes, making it known that they were for him and only him. we played a couple more songs before we ended our set. i ran up to wes who immediately took me into his arms. i rested my face into the crook of his neck as he spun us around. i giggled at the action, earning a giggle from him as well.

“i love you so fucking much..” he pulled away and whispered.

“i love you so much too.”

“so fucking much?”

“so fucking much.”

he locked lips and a tiny spark was felt, igniting something in my stomach and between my legs. he could sense it too because once he pulled away he gave me a look. i bit my lip as he took my hand and led us to his dressing room. he shoved us inside and made sure to lock the door (cause last time he forgot chloe walked in on us. poor girl was scarred..). he turned to me and grabbed my face, placing a kiss onto my smooshed lips.

“i wanna make love to you..” he breathed out.

“you gotta make it fast…you’re on soon.”

“they can wait.”

he started to slowly take off my shirt, tossing it to the floor. i took off his shirt as well but i placed it neatly on a suitcase. we undressed each other until we were fully naked.

“god you’re always so beautiful. like an glowing angel.” i blush at his words.

he began to press kissing to my shoulders, making sure to kiss every inch of my skin. he worked his way down to my boobs, to which he only peppered soft kisses on. he grabbed onto my hips and led us to the couch, gently laying us down. he continued his kisses as i giggled at the feeling of his lip ring.

“wesss…we can’t be long.” i whine out, grabbing a handful of his gel slicked hair.

“very impatient, baby.” he smirked as he used a hand to pump himself.

wes and i never made love before so i was incredibly nervous. i know it’s sex (which we’ve had many times) but it’s different. the mood and feeling is what changes it.

“you ready?”

“mhm.”

he kept eye contact with me as he pushed himself in. i let out a soft moan and fluttered my eyelids shut. he began to thrust slowly which felt agonizing compared to the speeds i know he could go. he brought our lips together again, tenderly kissing me. he kept one hand on my hip and slowly guided me along to his thrusts. his fingertips pressed onto my skin harshly as he moved me. he pulled away from my lips and rested his forehead onto mine. we listened to each other’s breathing, feeling the love grow through our veins.

“i love you, y/n..” he whispered.

“i love you too, wes..” i pecked his lips.

the hand that was on my hip slowly traveled up my body and to my boobs. he slowly started to massage my right one, being so gentle with it. he adjusted himself which gave him easier access to hitting that one spot. i gasp out at the new feeling and grab onto his shoulders. i dug my fingernails into his skin, probably drawing a little blood. the atmosphere in the room felt sensual, hot and heavy but not in the usual way. i smile a bit to myself as i realize the man i love is making love to me. his lips found the sweet spot on my neck and began lightly sucking on it. i moaned out at the feeling and clenched around him. it didn’t take long so far that certain feeling to arise in my stomach.

“wes…”

“i know..i know baby..” he peppers kisses on my neck.

i tilt my head back to give him more access. it was already known that i had wes’ body paint all over me, his most definitely smudged.

“i’m so close, wes…please..” i whine out.

“go ahead, baby..” he mumbles against my lips.

i gasp out as i came all over him, eyes screwed shut. i arched my back, wes taking a chance to wrap his arm around my body to bring me closer to him. he didn’t even think twice as he came inside me, groaning out against my neck. my hot breath fanning onto my skin.

“i…love…you…” he said in between kisses that he left on my lips.

“oh no, your makeup is smudged!” i gasp out, reaching out to touch his paint.

“wanna help me fix it?”

“duh.” i laugh.

he helps clean me up and helps me put my clothes back on. he sat at his desk and i sat on his lap, fixing up the black paint.

“hey so, i wanted to talk to you about something.” his tone serious.

i clear my throat and shifted in his lap, letting him know i’m listening. i nodded to encourage him to continue. he instead grabbed my hips and helped me off of him so he could walk to his bag.

“i’ve been wanting to talk about this for a while..and since today is our one year i think it’s a perfect time.”

his back was to me as he held whatever he grabbed.

“what is it, babe?”

before he could turn around and talk, fred came pounding on the door.

“yo wes! hurry up with your guys’ fucking, we’re on soon!”

i heard wes mumble something before putting away the item.

“i guess another time then.” he chuckles.

i smile and nod as he approached me.

“you gonna watch us?”

“of course, let me just wipe your makeup off and i’ll be out there.”

“okay, see you soon.” he presses a soft kiss to my lips before leaving.

a part of me wanted to check his bag to see the item but i ignored that thought and went to grab a wipe to clean myself up.

[downtherabbitholewithlucy]

[kiame-sama]

wait, you already said what you think the twst cast is as monsters, but what do they look like?

Warnings: my twst monster au, almost all characters with names (other than Yuu and Grim) in monster forms, mythical creatures, deer rack point system, measurements given in ft and cm, animal traits, various animal and plant species mentioned, usually I would say to use your imagination to think it up but I have thought about this way too much myself so I may as well share ideas of what they would look like, feel free to draw these monster men and if you do please share with me because I want to see these goobers drawn, some spoilers for Rollo's backstory,

Divus is a Harp Seal Selkie;

- Divus has a black and white fur coat of a Harp Seal with slight spotting pattern similar to Leopard Seals. His coat is always shiny, clean, and wrapped around his shoulders. Divus appears fairly humanoid and close to his canon appearance other than the sharper than normal canines that are closer to the cone teeth of seals. Selkies do not part with their coats lightly so it is very rare to see one without their pelts on their shoulders. His coat is more natural Harp Seal patterning than the clear black and white lines he has in canon.

Sam is a Shadow man;

- White skull markings along his face with burning purple eyes. He has several black tattoos on his skin that move and can even detach into actual shadow to ensnare his prey. There is constantly a darkness around him that seemed to repulse light, making him appear to be surrounded in constant shadow.

Vargas is a Texas-Longhorn Minotaur;

He has very long and large bull horns with the minotaur expression on his lower half making his upper body appear human other than his horns. His lower half is the same shade as his hair with white speckling on the left leg. His tail is often lazily swinging back and forth as he talks.

Trein is a Mountain Lion Sphinx;

- Lower-half is the body of a Mountain Lion with wings, upper half is Trein's usual upper body. He does have a lot of grey and white furs/feathers due to his age in his coat and it is clear he favors his right back leg as it usually sits at an angle. He can often be seen lounging with Lucius in a sunny spot in his classroom when not teaching.

Crowley is a Crow Fae;

- Similar to his appearance in canon TWST, but his large black wings are more prominent as are the iridescent colors in them and his hair. He actually has talons on his hands and not just the golden talons. He does wear golden caps on his talons however and has a medium length train of black tail-feathers.

Ace is a Saanen Satyr;

- He has short twisted horns and his orange hair is also the same color on his goat half- just a bit darker shade. His hooves are an off-white ivory. He does have the little billy-goat scruff of a goatee due to his Satyr heritage.

Deuce is a Rocky Mountain Faun;

- Deuce has large spiral horns and his blue hair is the same color on his goat half- just a shade darker as well with white speckles around his hooves and tail. His hooves are black. Deuce does not have the goatee often seen on Satyrs and Fauns.

Note; it is part of my AU that Satyrs usually have shorter horns and are closer to farm goats in their animal halves. Fauns are closer to mountain goats and therefore have longer more curved horns often seen on rocky mountain rams. Females of both Fauns and Satyrs grow the same large horns, but their horns are often thinner around than the males of their species.

Cater is a Lake Water Nymph;

- Cater is considered unusual among Water Nymphs because of his hair's coloration being a bright red instead of a more blue or green which is more common for Water Nymphs. Cater's hair is closer in color to a red Ludwigia as he is a lake Water Nymph and the flora of lakes tend to have a fair variation of green to red color hues. Cater's bright green eyes are closer to the usual colors of Water Nymphs and he accredits this to his mother who is a river Water Nymph. In the water Cater gets fins more adapted to lake swimming so he is not as strong in currents.

Che'nya is a Bakeneko;

- He is similar to his canon appearance, but the purple and pink of his hair is also visible on the skin of his arms, legs, and back. He also now has a two pronged fluffy tail similarly striped that is often seen waving mischievously behind him.

Trey is a Kelpie Centaur;

- When out of the water, Trey's Centaur half is that of a white horse with a long tail of the same green hair that Trey's human half has. His horse half is closer muscular build to Scottish Draft horses. When in the water, the white fur of his horse half becomes a lake green with fading blue hues. His tail hair becomes more stringy like lake reeds and his fur takes a more prickly quality. His back legs become a large fin when he is submerged completely in deep water, making him more of a Hippocampus in physiology while swimming.

Riddle is a Unicorn Centaur;

- His horse half has a pure white coat with a long tail closer to that of a lion than a horse, but long bright red hair for his tail. Riddle's hooves are a rather lovely golden color that shine like metal, same with the tight spiral horn that sits in the center of his forehead. There is a faded blue star shape at the base of his horn that seems to tattoo his fair skin, he often covers this up with his bangs. His horse half is similar in musculature to that of an Arabian Horse making him appear more dainty than Trey.

Note; Cater is often seen lounging on Trey's back while Trey swims in the Heartslabyul lake with Riddle laying in the grass on the shore. They often spend their afternoons doing this and Cater will frequently try to get Riddle to swim. Thus far, he has been unsuccessful.

Jack is a Gray Wolf Werewolf;

- Unlike his canon appearance, Jack constantly has that wolf-head and white fur all over his body. He can shift between being bipedal or a quadruped with little issue between the two forms of locomotion, meaning his limbs are closer in length than human limbs. He has fur similar in length to wolves and even has paw-like hands. His tail is frequently wagging whenever he is with friends or those he is fond of.

Ruggie is a Spotted Hyena Gnoll;

- Similar to Jack, Ruggie now has a Hyena head and pelt instead of just the ears and tail. He is still somewhat humanoid, but he is still shorter than Leona or Jack. His back legs are more like a Hyena and he has that same muscular ridge on his shoulders that Hyenas do. He still has his bright blue eyes despite how odd it is for Gnolls, but his coat is the same sandy light-brown as his hair usually is with dark brown spots.

Leona is a Nemean Lion;

- Nemean Lions are golden furred beasts much larger and stronger than any regular lion on top of being impervious to damage from mortal weapons. This translates into Leona's skin having a more golden sheen to it, always seeming to look like he has been dusted with fine powder gold sparkles. His dark hair has several bright gold strands woven in that makes it shiny as well. The fur on Leona's tail and ears is also that glittering golden color which only makes the tuft of fur at the end of his tail look darker. He is a little taller than in cannon and slightly more defined in musculature due to the natural strength of Nemean lions.

Azul is a Coconut Octopus Cecaelia;

- He is very similar to how he appears in canon, but now he has several black marks along his arms and body similar to how he looks in his merman form. Even in a human form, it is clear Azul is still not human due to these dark markings that wrap around his body. A few of these black tendrils frame his cheekbones and make those brightly colored eyes of his only seem brighter.

Jade and Floyd are Moray Eel Mermen;

- Similar to Azul, Floyd and Jade look similar to how they do in cannon, but their merman features are more visible even in their human forms. The fins they have alongside their faces are now present in their human forms as are the colorations of their merman forms on their shoulders and faintly around their faces. Their gills are still visible in their human forms.

Kalim is a Genie;

- Kalim is the closest out of everyone to his canon appearance as his identity as a Genie changes very little. He will likely wear clothes akin to his dorm clothes appearance but have the addition of golden bands around his wrists and ankles. He can form legs to walk on, but often chooses to fly instead, where his legs become more smoke-like in the typical Genie 'tail' that many Genies are often seen with. Kalim now has a golden aura around him that makes him glow slightly with a golden color due to his high-magic Genie nature.

Note; Kalim sleeps in his lamp and keeps many of his treasures in his lamp as his magic allows the lamp to be more like a hotel suite than a prison cell despite the size on the outside. Only Kalim and those he invites into his lamp can enter.

Jamil is a Sand Viper Naga;

- Jamil's upper half is similar to how it is in canon, but his lower half is that of a rather large snake. His shake half is 22ft (670cm) comprised of black and maroon scales. His maroon scales are closer to the color of dried blood and often get dark enough shades that they mix with the black diamond and striping patterns his black scales make. The scales on the stomach side of his snake body are a slightly more red tone than his skin tone. He does have golden scales that line his stomach scales and are in the center of the diamond patterns on his back.

Note; Jamil often sleeps with Kalim's lamp in the coils of his Naga tail. Having come from a long line of Naga that are usually the guards and guardians of the wealth and well-being Kalim's Genie family has amassed through the years. Wherever a Genie from Kalim's family lives, so too lives a Sand Viper Naga from Jamil's family to guard them.

Vil is a Peacock Harpy;

- Vil still has his flawless skin and purple ombre hair even as a peacock harpy, but he does have hair-like cobalt blue and emerald green feathers that often get woven into braids. He also has seven pristine head feathers that are the same 'eye' patterns as his tial feathers that often lay back against his hair unless he is feeling particularly proud, in which his crest will rise up like a crown atop his head. Vill has feathering along his shoulders, upper back and neck that are the bright cobalt blue of male Indian peacocks. Along his shoulder blades are his wings which have a full span of 8ft (244cm) but are often tucked neatly against his back and folded so the flight feathers don't drag when he walks. Vil has the full peacock train of tail-feathers and spends quite a bit of time preening and grooming them to maximum shine. He will only fully display his tail-feathers when being prideful or showing off to a prospective mate.

Rook is an Australian Golden Huntsman-Spider Drider;

- Rook's legs are a long spindly gold that are many times the length of his thorax and abdomen. The thorax of his spider body is larger than the abdomen of the body due to the typical shape of Huntsman-Spiders. The thorax area on Rook's spider body has a large black mark among the back hairs trailing down to where the abdomen part of his body is more narrow and the marks become black lines making their way down. His human half is attached at the top of the thorax where the spider's eyes are usually located. His spider legs are as thick as a Human's legs, his mandibles and pedipalps being similar in thickness. His fangs are to scale and are extremely long as well as being like blacked curved knives, he often keeps them tucked away to not unsettle others.

Note; Rook and Vil have a very mutually beneficial relationship just as they do in regular TWST. Rook helps Vil preen and take care of his feathers, often being the one getting the pin feathers Vil can't reach on his back and shoulders. Rook uses the silk he creates as a Drider to make fabrics for Vil as they are of high quality, and even higher thread count. Both are content to be the others boon companion and will often be seen working together outside of class as well.

Neige is a Mourning Dove Harpy;

- Neige has the same dark black hair and big brown doe eyes he does in cannon but he also has grey-brown feathers throughout his black hair. His cheeks, neck, shoulders, and upper back have the same gray-brown feathers with speckles of dark brown, white, black, and gray feathers throughout giving a light speckling pattern. His wings are that same gray brown color and are 6.5ft (200cm) in length. The ends of his flight feathers are often trailing over the ground beneath him when he is relaxed and he rarely opens his wings fully. Like most mourning doves, he has a lovely soothing voice and his unassuming species of Harpy makes him all the more charming.

Note: I was going to make Neige a Willow Grouse Harpy due to the coloration match with Neige and his RSA uniform, but I have a childhood fondness for the call of a mourning dove and Neige is supposed to have a beautiful voice, so I figured sweet Neige can be a mourning dove and not the goofy sounding Willow Grouse.

Epel is a Beliy Naliv Apple Wood Nymph;

- Epel has white tree bark as skin, occasionally having the slight dark mark or blemish where Epel had gotten into fights despite being a more peaceful species of Wood Nymph. His hair is made up of pale green leaves that are often covered in powder lavender blooms that are the same color as his canon hair color. Epel has the same large blue eyes as he does in canon. Occasionally the blooms on his head will grow into small apples that are white due to his species of Wood Nymph being the White Cloud Apple. His skin is rougher in texture and closer to the texture of bark.

Idia is a Shinigami;

- He still has his blue flaming hair and blue tinted lips and gold eyes. His skin is closer to a light gray in tone now, his nails a natural black. He now has these scraggly black wings that are kind of like bird wings but more haggard in appearance. The feathers are more slick and almost oily in texture and have some traces of blues in them similar to Idia's hair. He can use them to fly, but they make a very loud wooshing sound that he isn't overly fond of so he doesn't often use them. His limbs are just a bit longer than they are in canon giving him a more skeletal and gaunt appearance.

Ortho is also a Shinigami;

- Similar to Idia, Ortho still has his blue flaming hair and golden eyes. He will have the same light gray skin tone Idia does, but his wings are now cybernetic due to an unfortunate accident when Ortho was much younger that caused him to lose his Shinigami wings. Ortho also has several cybernetic limbs as a result of that same accident, making monster AU ortho closer in appearance to canon Ortho, but still able to eat/sleep/behave like a living being. Ortho is not AI but does have several augments to allow his brain to function with the aid of AI due to his unfortunate incident when he was younger.

Silver is a Reindeer Cervitaur;

- Silver is a leucistic deer cervitaur. This means his deer half has white fur as well with light gray spots along his back similar to the spots fawns have for camouflage purposes. His antlers are also an ivory white, and only have three points. From burr to tip of the beam, Silver has two points at the end of the beam and one point near the burr of his antlers. Lilia throws a party any time Silver gets another point on his antlers. Silver's deer half has the musculature type closer to reindeer than whitetail deer.

Lilia is a Vampire Bat Fae;

- Similar to his canon appearance, Lilia looks almost the same in his monster AU form, but his monster AU form has bat wings and a little tail. Most bats have tails and delicate wings, so I decided Lilia should also have bat wings and a little tail. His wings are sturdier than most bats and have several holes in them from past battles he has endured. He is still the Fae variation so he has the same pointed ears, sharp teeth, and slit pupils other Fae type have. His wings are black with Light pink highlights near the tips just like his hair.

Note; Lilia likes to sleep upsidedown in this AU and will often settle himself in the cafeteria chandeliers or even the rafters of various buildings to take naps throughout the downtimes of the day. Lilia is more nocturnal in this AU as well with increased sensitivity to sounds/lights.

Malleus is Dragon Fae.

- Malleus in the monster AU is similar to his canon appearance but has his dragon wings, tail, and various clusters of black scales along his body. His nails are decent length black talons and he has black scales along the backs of his hands and up his arms. His neck and upper back/shoulders have more black scales. His wings are the same deep black with a slight purple tint to them anywhere the skin is exposed. His tail is about as thick as a leg and tapers off to a wickedly sharp point that Malleus could use to impale someone if he wanted to. Black scales frame his eyes like their own kind of makeup and are more colorful around the eyes in purples and green sheens that highlight the obsidian base color of the scales.

Note; Malleus is more in touch with his dragon instincts in this AU due to being more outwardly dragon. He does make a nest out of his bed and is much more inclined to hoard things he is fond of, including but not limited to Gargoyles, unusual stones, and various creatures he takes interest in. Once he considers someone to be part of his hoard, he will be possessive of them and fiercely protective. Only creatures part of his hoard are allowed to enter his nest. Lilia, Silver, and Sebek are three of his living hoard.

Sebek is a Raiju Fae;

- His hair is a bit more wild and fur-like compared to his canon appearance with yellows mixed in to the sage green color. His teeth are much sharper and he actually has more dog-like qualities similar to Jack's canon appearance. Raiju are lightning dog mythical creatures, so Sebek's appearance will be similarly dog-like with the beastman ears and spiky furred tail that has a rougher texture compared to most fur. His tail and ear positioning will often be a dead giveaway for what emotions Sebek is feeling at the time.

Rollo is an Inferno Fire Nymph.

- Rollo's eyes are an ashen gray as is his skin and hair when he is not in his active inferno flame form. Much like a burned log, his flesh will bare the same ashen faded look to it. Rollo is usually in this form as he is not overly fond of the fire he creates and he can keep himself mostly calm despite the constant annoyance of others around him. When in his active inferno fire form, his ashen hair will ignite into flames, his gray eyes turning a bright fire red. Similarly, his skin will take a redder tone and embers will float off of his hair.

Note: Rollo's fire can burn others, but he can also consciously change the temperature of his flames to only warm and not harm if he felt so inclined. He would only willingly do this for someone he deeply loved and cared for as his full flame form reminds him far too much of his deceased brother, hence why he uses it sparingly. There are many types of Fire Nymphs, but Inferno Fire Nymphs are considered the most deadly as their flames get the hotest. Young Fire Nymphs cannot control their fire and can burn themselves out if they get too hot internally.

[loverboykirstein]

payment /// kinktober pt. 3

sam (sdv) x sebastian (sdv) x alex (sdv) x afab!reader

wc: 2,618

mdni-> warnings: semi-non-con, bleeding, choking, voyeurism, hitting/slapping, force

***“this is what you get for leading us on for so long. think of this as the start of your payment,”. your upper body jolted forward at the tug of the chain between your wrists, forehead pressed against sebs, forced to meet his dilated eyes. 

payment…?***

never in a million years did you think moving to an abandoned farm miles and miles away from everything you knew, would end up this way. 

beating the cold air that autumn nights carried squished between two best friends, the third watching an arms length away, surely was a way to beat hypothermia. 

truthfully, i think i might burn to death. 

a classic case of polar opposites, on near opposite ends of town, best friends with some very intense benefits. 

casually flirting your way into friendships, brushing every gift off as a nice gesture.

as if getting those damn frozen tears was as simple as that. 

it was all just for fun, right? 

the suffocation came quick, air hot and heavy, all trapped in the paint chipped walls of your cabin. 

but nothing like this was ever thought possible, until tipsy advances and slipped secrets fell out of the shields made of cheap costumes, losing pieces quicker than you could catch them. 

three stragglers left behind, everyone else off with their own one night stands. 

left with sam, alex, and seb, faces flushed, tension cutting off any sense of logical thinking, thoughts wandering with the river of alcohol seeping through your bloodstream.

by some miracle, three eligible bachelors were nearly at your feet, some more discreet than others. 

sure, after a long day hauling too many things around town, you would settle down for the night and let your imagination run free as you drank the healing wounds from the mines away. 

sure, you had thought about it before. more times than you would like to admit. 

but now it was real. 

“wait, all three of you..? no fucking way”. 

“you act like we just killed a family, jesus,” seb couldn’t help but laugh just a little, rolling his eyes. 

looking around, alex’s eyes glued to the floor, face redder than the barns that littered your farm. 

sam and seb holding a knowing look, a smirk pulling up on sebs lips.  

fuck, alex is in on it too? 

⊹ ࣪ ˖

you had found your way to sam’s lap, the tight jeans that had been torn to near shreds showing the stick and poke tattoos on his thighs, did nothing to help the bulge that had already been around since you winked at him with a solo cup in hand, far to long ago. 

a needy whimper escaped your throat as seb fisted a handful of your hair, pulling your head back enough for your eyes to be locked on the ceiling. 

sam’s drooling lips glued to your chest, abnormally sharp teeth breaking your tender flesh enough to mark you as his for weeks. 

in tandem, his calloused fingers, worn from metal strings and breaking falls on uneven pavement, slithered inside your sopping wet cunt, pulling him in knuckles deep without trying. 

legs spread wide open for him, forced open over his lap as his thighs ensure yours don’t close, seb pushed up against your ass with his mouth glued to your neck. 

bruises littered every bit of skin they could manage to reach, making it seem like you got your ass kicked in the mines, not signs of possession and feverish lust that rendered any thoughts useless. 

between the two, eyes pricked with tears of god knows what , sebs index and middle fingers rubbed gentle circles around your swollen bud, your entire being shocked with the unexpected touch. 

each nerve ending met with too much stimulation, legs fighting to keep you remotely upright, choked cries the only sounds that could escape through your barely open windpipe.

it was godly, every bit of you on the cusp of overstimulation, breathing heavy as your hips instinctually rocked back and forth on his digits, desperately close already. 

“oh baby…” sam slurred, clicking his tongue in the cockiest tone you had ever heard from him. “gonna cum already?” 

all you could manage was a whimper against sebastian's grip that pulled tighter, nodding your head as best as you could against the unexpected strength of his fingers alone. 

each pump of sam’s digits assaulted the spongey, desperate spot you needed to be pushed over the edge, holding the same. exact. rhythm. as the pads of sebastian’s fingers made your folds only swell more. 

for an eternity, your core pulled tighter and your nails dug deeper into your own thighs for a false sense of stability. 

despite every effort to keep upright, your entire body trembled, doing its very best to collapse into itself as you were forced to ride out your overstimulating release, soaking sam’s fingers down to his wrist, too much slick pooling anywhere it could. 

the sounds that tried to escape your chest cavity were cut short into broken cries as you tried to babble out pornographic moans, whimpers, anything. 

“what a good girl, cumming for us so easily,” seb nipped at your neck as his praise pricked your spine enough to elicit a shiver, a shaky hum the only sound you could manage. “don’t you think, ‘lex?”. 

seb’s grip on your hair released just to find your cheeks, flushed and damp with tears that had slipped out as a last resort for your body to release against the touch of two men. 

digging his fingers into them, he forced you to look at the puppy dog eyes of a struggling image of a man you never thought would look so needy. 

white knuckled grasp on his cock, tip red and glistening with drops of precum, eyes glossy as he tried to slow his pace down as your already fucked out face met his. 

you were on complete display for him, helpless, flushed, and marked beyond belief. Infatuated, starstruck. 

“m-mhm,” he nodded hesitantly, teeth too busy digging into his bottom lip. 

“whadaya think we should do with her next? hm?” sam stuttered as his fingers drug out of you, fascinated with the way your slick coated his fingers, sticky as he pulled his fingers apart slightly. 

turning your head towards sam at the release of sebs bruising fingers, something…evil in his glare. 

you watched him nod as he reveled in the fear that struck your eyes, blatantly painted on your face as you felt sebastian’s warmth leave your exposed back. 

without warning, both your wrists were caught in sam’s grip, pulled towards sebastian who appeared by your side without warning. 

bright red leather cuffs, chain in between, slapped around your fragile joints, smirk on both their faces. 

“this is what you get for leading us on for so long. think of this as the start of your payment,”. your upper body jolted forward at the tug of the chain between your wrists, forehead pressed against sebs, forced to meet his dilated eyes. 

payment…? 

pulling you off of sam without asking, without warning, laying you flat on your bed. head hanging off the edge, feeling the mattress expand as sam’s body left the spot he had been in for far too long. 

“ hey, ‘lex, who goes first?” sam questioned as he hastily took the rest of his clothes off, unblinking as his length slapped against his stomach. 

“i-umh, uh, seb?” he hesitated, the uncertainty stuck in his throat as he tried to rid his mouth of the dryness it had accumulated so quickly, as if he was afraid to make the wrong decision. 

unable to support your own head up, arms forced over your head and hanging further over the edge of the bed, suddenly unsupported as the grasp on the chain dropped. 

the sound of another pair of jeans hit the floor, your body running cold at the deafening tension crushing the atmosphere.

any light was blocked by the one behind the entire thing, who had plotted this for so. long. 

one leg over his shoulder, both. knees forced to press against your swollen tits, drops of blood seeping out of bite marks surrounded by dark purple bruises. 

not having the chance to see sebastian’s desperate fingers grip around his freed cock, you could feel how big he was, how heavy he was.  

desperate tip sliding between your swollen folds, catching your cluster of nerves for a moment in time, just to alllmost slip inside on the way back down, despite your uncontrollable whimpers and wiggle of your hips in hopes to get him inside you. 

“pl-please..sebby..” pleads felt more like cries, praying to whoever was listening, knowing you truthfully should be scared. that you didn’t know if you actually wanted this. 

“please what, needy girl..” his voice trailed as he almost pushed inside you, waiting for your begs to crack and force him to ram into your cervix without the chance to adjust to anything at all.

“n-need you,”. you squirmed around, cunt clenching around nothing at all. you had never felt so desperate, so vacant without something inside you. primordial need, fighting against the warning signs flashing bright between every synapse. 

“just me? gonna leave sammy out?” his tip almost inside, not giving you the chance to ignore his question, one which you couldn’t deny despite your hesitation. 

a whimper and a shake of your head, an immediate tug on the chain forcing your arms to go numb. 

“i don’t think you deserve to be treated nice, ain’t that right sammy?” seb’s voice was deeper, darker, heavier. 

“mmm-nuh uh,”. the cold metal through his throbbing tip brushed against your swollen lips, salty-sweet syrup soaking into them. wordlessly awaiting your tongue, awaiting seb’s green light. 

pale fingers crushed the outer fat of your thighs, time standing still. your lips parted, droplets of sam’s warmth hitting your tongue like a warning sign. 

a tighter grip, your shoulders numb, no air left in your lungs. 

back out, back out now. 

a snap of seb’s hips, no luxury of adjusting to his size. the strength of his forced entry pushed you forward, sam’s cock enveloped by the sudden warmth of your tongue. 

your hole burning with each thrust, bruising every wall inside you. leaking head violating your cervix, jolts of unknown pleasure searing your every cell. 

nose pressed to the vein throbbing on the underside of sam’s cock, lips beginning to crack at the corners as you struggled to breathe. 

your cunt violated beyond repair, your throat begging for mercy. tears dripping from the outer corners of your eyes, bringing your once perfect makeup to a streaming mess. 

“fuck, f-fucking christ,” seb’s words stutter through gritted teeth and haphazard breathing, his abs you wish you could see burning him alive. “so goddamn-tight,”. 

relentless back and forth, nothing but a toy as you choke on spit and precum, wincing at the metal that hits the roof of your mouth as sebastian’s thrusts force sam further down. 

your cunt began to ache, nerve endings jumping towards a second overwhelming release through the bone shattering pain. 

as your walls clenched around every inch sebastian so violently offered, your throat followed suit, lips catching on the head of sam’s quivering length. 

“seb-seb slow, shit,”. unable to slow sebastian’s torture down, muffled coughs sputter against the warm ropes hastily pooling in your throat, hard to swallow with your head still hanging. 

milking him dry, trying your best to let him ride out one of the hardest orgasms of his life, legs shaking as strands of his fluffy blonde hair stick to the sheen of sweat on his forehead. 

“swallow,” sebastian’s demand cutthroat, one hand moving from your thigh to your stomach. 

trying your best to regain an ounce of composure, inhaling a full breath for the first time in what feels like years. 

catching alex’s blown out eyes, thumb rubbing over his leaking slit in a state of hypnosis as your blurry vision pleads for mercy. 

all of your blood pooling in your face, arms numb and fingers tingling. broken cries, profanities, anything you could release, a newfound pressure of sebastian’s weight rested upon your stomach. 

a single breathy laugh slipping out of his nose as he feels his own ruthless thrusts on the palm of his hand, separated by the skin covering your womb. 

caught off guard by an earth-shattering whimper, alex’s thumb quickly replaced with kitten licks and unblinking eye contact from sam whose knees dug into the rug beneath him. 

the sight is enough to distract you from sebastian’s pace, the rope pulling tight enough for frays to snap and weaken its integrity. 

watching the man who boasted in his masculinity, focused so closely on covering up his feelings with workouts and dreams of what could have been, melt into the touch of a man with equitable struggles he would never admit to, not letting a drop of his sticky pre go to waste. 

it was the hottest thing you had ever seen. 

missing your cries, sebastian pulls you onto the bed, head and neck praising gratitude as it rests on the padded quilt bedding for the first time. 

his paces slow, dropping one of your legs from his shoulder. 

“be a good girl and flip over, now,”. his face was flushed, hair falling in his eyes. pupils so wide all color was gone, tone sharp and cold, freezing your few remaining thoughts entirely. 

a palm to the face, stinging hot and leaving a swollen print behind at your accidental defiance, a cracked sob a result of the matter. 

using the ounce of strength left in you in tandem with his momentum, your face pushed into the bedding you praised moments ago. 

a new angle, a new pace, knocking the air out of you with each moan, cracked and loud. 

eyes locked on sam’s bobbing head, alex’s whimpers making your spine itch with unknown pleasure. 

“pathetic, both of you,” sebastian’s outline molded perfectly inside of you, a key inside a lock. 

punishment in the form of red hot slaps on the tender plush of your ass, handprint branded against your skin. 

unholy sounds from sam’s determination to swallow alex whole, from sebastian’s fingers drawn to your overstimulated clit. 

crying sounds that you didn’t even know you could make. 

trembling as you covered his unrelenting inches, creaming on him harder than you ever imagine possible. 

stuttering in rhythm, warm ribbons coating your pussy with his cum. 

nearly orchestrated, alex sputtered into sam’s mouth, fist full of the blonde’s hair to shove his mouth down to the base. 

uniform heaves for air, the smell of sin crushing the baseboards. 

silent sobs the only thing you could do, leaking as seb slowly released his overworked cock from your brutalized hole. 

“shit, i-um, sorry,” a whiplash in tone, soft and caring, almost scared? 

eyes closed as you trembled slightly, nose runny and eyes damp. a quick release of your wrists, hands held in his. numb, tingling against the rushing blood finding its way back. 

vacant, empty, cold. dizzy, exhausted beyond belief. feeling the nipping cold come through a cracked window, sticking to the sheen of sweat on your skin, turning your fever to shivers near instantly.

for years you laid there, pulling your somewhat awake arms as close to your chest as possible. body pulled right together, unable to move on your own. 

“c’mon, you’re bleeding,” sam’s gentle voice, calming enough to lull you to sleep, contrast from his words. 

bleeding? hm. 

lifting you into his arms, limp body encasing his, soothing circles on your back. 

the sound of running water pooling into the small bathtub, just warm enough to cut the cold snap the open window had formed. 

forcing your eyes open as you were placed into the warm water covered in lavender bubbles, lazily blinking as you locked eyes with alex. disheveled, flushed, seb cleaning him up with a warm washcloth. 

“i call dibs next time,” sam laughed a little, tussling seb’s hair. 

next time?

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

hello! so sorry this is so short! it was a bit of brainrot i wrote out half asleep.

i have a few ideas planned...but lmk what you want to see !

mwuah! thanks for stopping by! ᥫ᭡。

[fandomsandflyingstingrays]

Rayllum + proposal???

(That one scene on the bridge REALLY seemed like it was leading up to a proposal, didn't it, or am I crazy? He made such a big deal about setting up that whole ridiculous spectacle for her and then it was just a regular date. I'm still salty about it lol)

Oh you definitely weren't the only person who thought that! It really did seem set up that way. Thanks for the prompt!! It was super fun to write.

Rayla’s breath hitched at the feeling of hand on her shoulder, her dreams dissipating as she jerked awake. Her eyes flew open— but still, she could make out only shadows. Her assailant had blindfolded her.

She smiled, stretched leisurely, and stood up, waiting for the familiar words. 

“Do you trust me?” Callum asked.

“I do.”

He took her hand and guided her from her bed, as he’d done every year on this night in the three since Aaravos’s defeat. His hand was warm in hers, sending beams of anticipation through her whole body as he led her down to the river. How would he outdo himself this year? She hadn’t thought anything could beat the musical serenade he’d set up the first time he’d done this, until she’d stood on the bridge with him two years ago and watched the glow toads, the shimmercrows, and Stella sail down the river on a raft covered in drawings of memories she and Callum had made. And surely nothing could compare to the moonberry surprise the raft had carried her last year. But that was being with Callum for you— you never knew what would come next, but you could count on it being more wonderful than you’d ever imagined.

It wasn’t long before the sounds of the rushing water filled Rayla’s ears, and she leaned into Callum as he helped her navigate the incline of the bridge. The movements practiced by now, she turned to face him, waiting for him to remove the scarf from around her eyes. When he did, though, concern flashed through her. His fingers were trembling against her skin. 

“Callum?” She caught his hands as they wrapped the scarf around her neck. “Is everything okay?”

“I hope so.”

Before she could ask him to elaborate, a familiar song echoed down the river, and she turned to see the glow of the raft as it made its way towards them. She leaned over the edge of the bridge, squinting, but she couldn’t see anything that would cause Callum to be so on edge. Bait, Stella, Hat, Sneezles, Jellygrab, Aaron, and Sam were all accounted for. In fact, the raft looked exactly the same as it had the first time she’d seen it, only something shimmered in the center of it. It was too small to be a weapon… some kind of primal stone? Or—

Rayla’s breath caught.

It wasn’t one thing. It was two. A pair of brilliant silver horn cuffs, moon opals shining in their centers. 

Rayla whirled on Callum, her heart pounding in her throat. ���Callum— are those—"

“Yes,” he rasped. 

In a single motion, Rayla turned and leapt over the edge of the bridge, landing with a crash in the water below.

“Rayla!” Callum cried.

But she barely heard his voice, barely felt the cold, barely noticed the press of the water around her in her dash for the cuffs. The feeling of them in her hands, smooth and solid and real as the promise they represented— no fear could come close to overpowering that. 

Callum’s arms were around her a second later, pulling her out of the river and into the warmth of his embrace. She slid the cuffs over her horns and turned to him, beaming even through chattering teeth.

“What— how— why would you—" Callum gasped, fear and pride at war on his perfect features.

“I love them,” Rayla said, “and I love you, and yes, I want to marry you, and I wasn’t going to wait so much as a second to show you that.”

Callum let out a peal of laughter, giddy and disbelieving. “I had this whole speech planned, you know! I was going to tell you how much you mean to me, all the things I love about you, all the ways I want to be there for you…”

Rayla pressed a finger to his lips, then moved her hand to cup his cheek. “I don’t need to hear it. Because you show me, every day. And because you’re Callum. You’re brave and funny, clever and caring, and a thousand other things that I wouldn’t have enough time to list if we lived forever. You’re a hero— you’re my hero. And I want to be yours, for as long as we live. You are so…”

Words failed her, then, but she didn’t need them. She closed the distance between him, pressing her lips to his, and knew when she pulled away to see the sheen of tears in his eyes that he understood. 

“I love you so much,” he whispered. “I can’t wait to be your husband.”

Unable to help herself, she grinned, elbowing him. “And have ten babies with me?”

Callum half-laughed, half-groaned. “You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?”

Rayla smiled, kissing him lightly. “Not for the rest of our lives.”

“Well, speaking of children, our various animal dependents are waiting on us to steer them to shore before they reach the town.” Callum got to his feet and winked. “Race you to the raft, fiancée.”

He took off without a backward glance, and Rayla launched to her feet after him with a shriek of indignation. He would beat her, she knew, but she couldn’t bring a speck of herself to mind.

Fiancée.

Rayla was made of nothing but hope, nothing but love, lit from the inside out. She had never looked forward to her future more.

[padfootagain]

Love in Verses (XII)

Chapter 12 : Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air, are heading home again

Hi! Here is new chapter! This one is… interesting… Whiskey is very dangerous, indeed…

I hope you like this chapter! Tell me what you think!

****

Pairing: Hozier x fem!reader (professor!AU)

Warnings: slow burn, angst, hurt, hurt/comfort, tooth-rotting fluff in later chapters, some scenes in later chapters will have heavy sexual themes even if it’s not explicit nsfw description, so minors here

Summary: Your life seems perfect. You're engaged, your career is thriving as you become an assistant professor at Trinity College, and this Andrew Hozier-Byrne you're sharing an office with seems to be a nice guy you hope to call a friend soon. Life seems to be smiling at you... until everything goes sour. When your fiancé breaks up with you, your perfect world shatters. And when your colleague also gets his heart broken soon after, your shared office seems to be a curse rather than a blessing. But Andrew seems determined to mend your broken hearts... Will things finally go according to plan?

Word Count: 2527

Masterlist for the series – Hozier’s masterlist – Main masterlist

Wild Geese

You do not have to be good. You do not have to walk on your knees for a hundred miles through the desert repenting. You only have to let the soft animal of your body        love what it loves. Tell me your despair, yours, and I will tell you mine. Meanwhile the world goes on. Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain are moving across the landscapes, over the prairies and the deep trees, the mountains and the rivers. Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air, are heading home again. Whoever you are, no matter how lonely, the world offers itself to your imagination, calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting – over and over announcing your place in the family of things.

Mary Oliver, Dream work, 1986

You ended up at your place with Andrew. After that awful dinner you both needed some emotional support.

You didn’t talk about the meal though. He didn’t mention how Frank had hurt you, you didn’t talk about how Andrew deserved better than Sam.

That was your final conclusion after the evening. Andrew deserved better than her. You didn’t know all the details that had drawn him away from a professional career in music, but you knew that it had been a tough decision to make for him. The way Sam made it sound, Andrew had simply given up. And yet, his eyes still lit up every time he talked of music.

You sat down on your couch with a bottle of whiskey, getting lost in thought as you replayed the conversation through your head. You had noticed how Sam had stopped listening the second you had started talking about your job, about music… about things Andrew loved. And perhaps you were too busy grieving for him, but was Frank the same with you? Because Andrew deserved someone who listened, someone who actually cared…

What did both Andrew and Frank saw in Sam that you didn’t? The question was relentless, spinning in your head again and again, a fly trapped under a glass trying to escape. What did you lack that she had?

You watched Andrew as he downed his first glass of whiskey. Neat. No ice or anything. He didn’t flinch, merely let out a long exhale as he let his head fall back onto the backrest of the couch.

“God… that felt good. I needed that,” he sighed, pouring himself another glass while you drank yours as well.

You winced slightly at the burn of the liquor, but silently asked for more anyway.

“What’s next on the list of things to ruin?”

Andrew chuckled at that.

“I reckon we haven’t really ruined anything yet… but… I guess not much until the New Year. You’re still coming to their party?”

“Of course,” you sighed. “We need to make a plan for this. We need to ruin something and then save the day.”

“We should ruin the champagne.”

“And replace it with another excellent one? Good idea. That could work for you.”

“What about you?”

“I don’t know… Maybe help Sam. That would impress him.”

“Hmm… a knight in shining armour? Ruin her dress and you fix it?”

“Oh…. That’s nice! You’re very good at this Andy, that’s a little scary!” you joked, nudging him. “I could give her my dress, and wear some disgusting clothes instead. The self-sacrifice will make him grow fond of me.”

“I’ll make sure to have the worst change of clothes in my car.”

“Perfect.”

“They said they wanted to organise the party in some sort of club…”

“Hmm… I bet you love the idea.”

“I’m already panicking at the mere thought.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be there.”

You thought yourself silly for offering such a useless argument, but Andrew didn’t seem to think of it that way. Instead, he gave you a grateful smile.

“Why are we doing this again?” you asked, question aimed the ceiling as you sighed, Andrew shifted by your side.

“Because we love them.”

His voice sounded like a lie. It was true though. It had to be, somehow…

You drank again, tried to think of something else, let silence settle instead. It was okay. Silence with Andrew felt comfortable, like the world shushed under a blanket of snow. Natural. Slow.

And outside the world kept on turning, as if you weren’t in pain, as if you weren’t grieving. Wasn’t that a strange truth? Frank had left, and the world hadn’t stopped with him. You wished you could feel it spinning again, look at the rest of the world and feel its beating, and be part of it once more. Maybe, if someone listened to you, and understood you, and made you feel safe again… if you could be yourself with them…

“I’m glad you listened to the record,” Andrew spoke after a while and another emptied drink.

“I loved it.”

“It’s one of my favourites. My father listened to it often when I was a child.”

“Is he the one who made you love music so much, your father?”

Andrew nodded.

“He was sick when I was a child. Bad surgery on his spine. He never recovered.”

“I’m sorry.”

“He was a drummer, back in the days. And even after everything changed he just… I don’t know. No matter what we said to each other, how angry we were, how much we argued… we’ve always had music in common. Even when we couldn’t communicate properly, we would put on a record, sit in silence and listen to it, and then we’d discuss it, and things would get better.”

You knew that he was blinking tears away, heard him sniffing. He wasn’t looking at you and you were still staring at the white ceiling. It didn’t matter. Perhaps it even made it easier.

“I just… I didn’t… I made a choice, back in the days, you know? I wasn’t being a coward or something, I just… I didn’t want to tell other people’s words; words that I didn’t care about, I wanted people to listen to me. I wanted to make something that was true and earnest. I wanted… I wanted for someone to listen to me…”

He sniffed. You reached across the couch for his hand, easily found his fingers. He held your hand so easily, like it was obvious, like your hands were meant for that gesture, for holding onto each other. His so large, yours so small in comparison…

“I thought she used to listen, but I don’t know anymore. She wasn’t listening tonight. She hasn’t listened in a while. Do you think…? Do you think she ever listened to me? I had so much to say that I couldn’t express, I didn’t know how, I still don’t know how… I wanted her to listen… God I wanted for someone to listen, just once… just once…”

You tightened your hold on his hand, and you hoped that he would understand what you meant by this simple gesture. That you were listening now. That you listened. That you understood him. That you were there…

“Thank you.”

His voice was a mere whisper, but it was enough.

You struggled with your own tears as you spoke again, your voice shaking.

“I don’t understand why Frank needed to wait for me, and not for her. What… I feel like I’m lacking something…”

“You’re not.”

You felt his stare on you now, but you kept your own gaze set on the ceiling.

“You’re not lacking anything, stop it. Frank is the one who left…”

“Because he saw something in Sam he didn’t see in me. And I don’t know what it is. And I’m scared… I’m scared that I thought he cared about me, and he didn’t. I’m scared to have built my life on that kind of lie. And the worst is… I still want it. I want the life he promised me.”

You were surprised when Andrew let go of your hand. But then you felt his palm cupping your cheek, the brush of his thumb drying your tears.

You finally turned to him, he gave you a sad but soft smile.

“Don’t cry over him. Please, don’t cry.”

You sniffed, let him caress your skin for a moment longer. It felt reassuring, anchoring. Soft and tender. Safe. You felt safe with him…

You shook yourself, moved to the bottle of whiskey again.

“You’re right. I shouldn’t cry,” you nodded, drying your face on your arm. “Let’s get hammered instead, that was the deal!”

Andrew silently agreed by handing you his empty glass for a refill.

“Tell me something silly,” he requested.

“Something silly?”

“Something about… your college days. Those are always worth a good laugh.”

“It’s good craic,” you agreed with a chuckle. “Alright… I’ll tell you a couple of stories. But you’ll have to tell me some as well!”

“Fair enough.”

You exchanged a smile, united your glasses with a cling.

And then you talked about yourself. And he listened.

Your head was spinning, you weren’t sure anymore if it was because of the alcohol or how much you were laughing.

You let yourself fall back into the sofa, holding on your painful stomach, tears in your eyes and on your cheeks. God, you hadn’t laughed so hard in… you were about to think ‘since Frank’ but you couldn’t remember ever laughing so hard with him.

“There was this one time,” Andrew went on. “I was playing with a band… Alex thought it would be hilarious to hide my guitar… I was so fucking panicked, I fell down the stairs leading to the stage and almost broke my neck…”

You doubled over with laughter, and he followed you close.

“How did you pay him back?”

“I told the girl he fancied he couldn’t read music, and she went on to teach him…”

You were hysterical at that point.

“And then…” Andrew choked on his own breath, and it took him a moment to recover and speak again. “Then, he was too afraid that she would push him away if he said anything, so he pretended he didn’t know and let her teach him all over again…”

You were both laughing too hard, the alcohol blurring your senses and making the stupid jokes and silly stories funnier than they ought to be. You looked at the bottle of whisky, admired the empty part of it, felt the burn of its effects on your cheeks.

And you looked at Andrew who was drying his cheeks, his long fingers spread across his stomach. He took off his glasses, they were wet with happy tears. He put them down on your coffee table and leaned into the couch again, slouched and comfortable, with his cheeks flushed with the liquor you had been drinking through the evening. His hair was held back in a messy bun, that had only become messier along the evening.

Damn, you couldn’t help the thought when it crossed your mind, because he was so bloody handsome…

He felt your stare on him, turned his attention fully to you. Focused and expectant, as if he knew you were about to say something incredibly interesting. And this black shirt he had on…

There were butterflies in your stomach and stutters on your tongue while your heart was pounding. You didn’t think. You didn’t think at all, you only felt, and wanted and easily yielded… and perhaps it was just the liquor, you would blame it on the whiskey in a few hours, but for now, you weren’t thinking about tomorrow morning. And for the first time in three months, you weren’t thinking about Frank at all either. Instead, you were thinking of Andrew, of how gentle and warm he looked sitting with you on your couch, how inviting his lips were, how you longed to touch his hair and his beard and him and…

… and then your lips were on his.

You felt him raising his eyebrows, but when you leaned closer and let your fingers find their way to his cheeks, the brush on your cheekbones told you he had closed his eyes too. And there you were, kissing him, and he was kissing you back, your mouths moving in perfect unison somehow, despite a first kiss and too much alcohol. He pulled you closer, wrapping an arm around your waist, while his other hand came up to cradle your face. The long fingers soon moved to your hair though, pulling you closer while he deepened the kiss. You wrapped your arms around his neck in a slow, lazy movement while you kissed, gasping for air every now and then, but your lips always connected again after a mere instant. You weren’t sure for how long you kept on kissing, too long for it to be meaningless, and yet you refused to think for now.

When you at last opened your eyes again, Andrew blinked at you, seeming a little shocked, and you weren’t sure if it was a good sign or not. You felt dizzy… dizzy with his scent, something of wood and a tinge of spices. Dizzy with his taste still on your tongue, a mixture of whiskey and something that was just him. Dizzy with the burn of his beard against your skin, with the heat of his body against yours.

Dizzy with him…

“Y/N?”

The way he whispered your name, his words a little slurred because of alcohol, and yet it sounded so good, tender, like he cradled the vowels and the consonants in his mouth, with tenderness in the way he spoke it out loud…

He cleared his throat, but didn’t let go, his hands on your waist and in your hair still, and you held onto him for a moment longer, admired how your kisses had reddened his lips.

Why did it feel so good to hold him? Why did it feel so good to kiss him…

“Erm… You… you kissed me.”

“Yeah… yeah, I did,” you whispered, refusing to pull away, remaining in his arms and your lips only centimetres away from his.

“You… I mean… We…”

You felt him leaning closer again as he took a deep breath, felt the brush of his lips on yours… but just when you were about to lean in, he pulled fully away, moving further away on the couch.

“Wait… what’s going on?”

You blinked up at him, regretting his brown curls between your fingers and the warmth of his breath against your mouth. But then your brain kicked in again, and your eyes grew round as the realization of your own movements sank in.

You had kissed him. You had kissed Andrew…

Holy…

“God, I’m sorry,” you stammered. “I… I’m so sorry. I… I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. God…”

“It’s alright,” he reassured you, but it was obvious that he was shaken.

“That was so out of line, I’m sorry…”

“No, it’s okay… I… I think we’ve both had a little too much to drink.”

“Yeah… yeah, I think it went to my head.”

Why was your heart aching when you thought he regretted it. He should have regretted it. And you ought to regret it too…

“Frank and Samantha…” you mumbled under your breath, thinking out loud, but Andrew caught your words and nodded.

“Yeah… yeah, we… they are the ones we want.”

He slowly nodded, ran his hand across his face, as if to clear his head.

“You… you were just drunk. Just drunk…”

He looked at his watch.

“God…it’s almost 2 a.m. We should go to bed…”

You nodded again, but stopped him when he pulled out his phone.

“I have an extra bedroom, you can stay if you want.”

“I can take a uber.”

“It’s late. You can stay, if you want to.”

Slowly, he nodded.

You let him head to the bathroom, and hid inside your bedroom, resting your back against its wooden surface as you closed it.

What the fuck was that?