#sorry sparkling gonna be a hot minute before we can hang out

[white-lily-on-vacation]

I think I might have to cancel those outing plans I had today, the silver tree is experiencing some issues-

Major issues-

[megxplryxb]

More Than This Part 2.

Authors Note: I am beyond sorry for the 9 month wait for this. I just lost my motivation for writing but its slowly and surely coming back. Thank you all for being so patient. I hope you enjoy.

Disclaimer: GIF is not mine.

Link for Part 1: More Than This

The last of your salty tears trickle down the bathtub drain as you wrap yourself up in a well-worn motel towel. The shower had done little to improve your mood, switching from hot to cold just as you had been with Steve for the past several weeks. You had been doing so well up until recently, trying to avoid him and your feelings but now that you were sharing a room and bed with him for the night, it was going to be next to impossible to hide the fact that you were hopelessly in love with your best friend.

The rusty faucet dripped little beads of water into the sink despite it being turned off while you carefully applied your make up, hoping Steve and the others wouldn’t notice the slight puffiness under your eyes from crying. Admittedly, you were taking a little longer than usual to get ready, making sure your eyeliner was just right, lips perfectly glossed and kissable and your outfit was showing off all your best features, ‘cause although you felt like utter shit, you didn't want to look like shit too.

As you began to gather up your things, folding the towel back on to the rack, you heard a tap on the bathroom door. “Hey, are you almost done in there? I need to take a piss really bad.” Steve said in a seemingly more relaxed tone than earlier. Unlocking the bathroom door, you find your best friend standing shirtless in his Levi's, leaning against the doorframe and you curse him for looking so damn beautiful.

“I did ask if you needed to use the bathroom before I went in.” You huff, quick to brush past him, clothes and make up bundled in your arms as his eyes follow you around the room, nostrils filling with the scent of your vanilla perfume, jaw a little slack as he scanned your body.

Steve couldn't help but notice the little black dress you were wearing along with your signature converse, how it sparkled and fit perfectly on your body, breasts spilling out over the top ever so slightly. He knows it’s wrong to think of you that way, because you’re his best friend and he's seeing someone else but sometimes he wonders if you know just how pretty you are.

“Uh, the air cons not working in here, the room's like a god damn sauna.” He informs, scratching the back of his neck, trying to avert his gaze from your frame.

“Well if you hadn’t made such a fuss about the sleeping arrangements, at least one of us would have had working air con tonight, Harrington.” You mutter, tucking your things back in to your duffle, pushing by him. Steve presses his tongue to his cheek, realising that whatever the hell was bothering you, wasn’t going to disappear anytime soon. Defeated, he shuts the bathroom door, leaving you to finish getting ready alone.

He emerges fifteen minutes later, freshly showered, smelling great and you hate how good he looks in his tight jeans and white t-shirt, hair perfectly in place, not that it wasn’t always. It wasn't exactly the attire you expected someone to wear to a Metallica concert, but it was Steve after all, he wasn't exactly into Heavy metal.

You can feel the tension rising between you with each passing minute of silence, unspoken words hanging in the air as his hazel eyes burn a hole through your head while you both walk on eggshells around the small room. With one quick look in the mirror and one final spray of perfume, you grab your purse and head for the front door, not being able to stand the awkwardness a second longer. “I’m gonna go see if the others are ready.” You say, reaching for the door handle but you already hear his footsteps behind you.

“Wait, can we just talk for a sec?” Steve pleads, eyes wide with concern when you sigh loudly.

“About what?” You ask as he scoffs at your response. “Seriously? Oh, I don’t know, maybe about why you’ve been acting weird with me all day?” He replies, folding his strong arms and you immediately regret not just walking out of the room to find your friends because you aren't ready to have this conversation with him.

“Steve...”

“Not just today actually, it’s been going on for a while and honestly, I don’t know what I’ve said or done to piss you off and believe me, I’ve been racking my brains trying to figure it out. But I’ve obviously done something because you’re so angry at me and.….”

“I’m not…I’m not angry.” You reply, not really knowing what else to say to him.

“You’re not?” He asks, raising his brows in surprise.

“Look, you haven’t done anything to upset me, alright?” You say, giving him a fake smile but he’s not convinced at all.

“Come on, give me some credit here sweetheart. We’re supposed to be best friends, yeah?” He asks moving closer towards you.

“Mhm” Is all you manage to say when he takes your hand but you’re quick to pull it away again, feeling the heat on your cheeks start to rise, placing a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

“Then what's going on huh? Why are you staying at Robin’s? I really miss you.” Steve confesses with such a mixture of sadness and sincerity that you almost consider telling him everything right there and then but you're not ready to hear that he doesn't feel the same way and so instead, you lie.

“There’s no big reason, Steve. Robin mentioned that you were on a couple of dates and I didn’t want to get in the way of anything, I think it’d be a bit awkward with me in the next room, don’t you?” You joke, trying to make an effort with him and you can see the confused expression on his face.

“Robin told you about Tracy?” He asks, surprised by how cool you were being about this, but the minute you hear the name fall from his mouth, he instantly realises Robin never told you who it was he was actually dating.

“Wait, did you say Tracy? As in Tracy Turner from high school, that’s who you’re dating!?” You question, furrowing your brows as Steve takes a step back, sensing the air getting thicker between you again.

“Uh, yeah. Sort of, I mean it’s pretty new and…”

"How....when did...where did you even..."

"She was at the video store a few times and I don't know, we were talking one day and she just sort of asked me out." Steve explained nervously.

“And you said yes?"

"Well, girls haven't exactly been lining up to date me recently if you hadn’t noticed.” He muttered, trying to make a joke out of it but it wasn’t working.

"I can’t believe you’d date her after what she did to me!” You yell, shaking your head in disbelief.

Tracey Turner had been one of your closest friends, once upon a time. That was until you found her in the back seat of a car with your then boyfriend Matt Anderson. It wasn’t that you’d been with Matt for long or even loved him but she was supposed to be your friend and she didn’t even apologise for hurting you. Now here she was, a couple of years later trying to take Steve away from you too. Your Steve. Steve, who you actually loved.

“Come on, that was years ago! She’s changed since then.” Steve says, panic apparent in his voice when he sees the look in your eyes and he knows he’s said the wrong thing again.

“Don’t you dare defend her!” You growl and he’s wincing at how angry you are now. “Can you just calm down for a second?” He begs, hands in the air, surrendering to you immediately, not wanting to fight or upset you anymore than he already had.

“Calm down? My “best friend” is dating a girl who FUCKED my boyfriend and you want me to calm down?” You yell, enraged at the new information you've discovered, seeing nothing but visions of them together in your head. Had he slept with her already? Had she occupied your side of Steve’s bed that you’d sleep on when you watched movies late in to the night? Had she seen pieces of your clothing lying around his house? Had she seen the pictures of you and Steve on his bedside table? Had he told her he loved her? Oh god, you were going to be sick.

“I’m sorry, alright? Shit, I didn’t think it would be such a big deal.” He exhales, throwing his head back.

“Oh really, Steve? If it wasn't such a big deal to you then why didn't you tell me about her, huh?” You ask bluntly as Steve's face begins to harden.

"You didn't tell me about Hargrove."

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me. I had to find out from Henderson that you were dating that asshole and that’s only because he caught you making out on the couch while you were supposed to be babysitting!” Steve argues and you can't help but laugh at how immature he was being.

"That's completely different, we were barely even friends back then."

“But we were friends and you knew I hated him but you went out with him anyway!" He fires back, leaning against the old chest of drawers.

"Yeah, only because you were still getting....." You start to say before you stop yourself, realising that you'd almost blown your cover when Steve looks at you confused.

“Because I was still getting what?” He asks with a heightened interest, just as a knock comes to the door.

“What the hell is going on in here, we could hear you yelling outside!” Eddie shouts when you open the door, seeing the distressed look on your face as Steve stood silent, still waiting for your reply.

"Nothing, let's just go." You mutter, moving by your friends to exit the room. "You are SUCH a dingus, dingus." Robin rolls her eyes at Steve before chasing after you, figuring that you've somehow found out about Tracy Turner, praying that you won't be pissed at her for not telling you.

"Yeah, I know Robin, thanks." Steve sighs heavily, trying to follow but Eddie holds him back, placing a hand on his friends chest. "Dude, take it from me, let her cool off for a while."

"Eddie, I need to talk to her man, I need to fix this." He attempts to push by again but the metal head refuses to budge.

"How are you going to fix it Steve, huh? Do you even know what's going on with her?" Eddie questions, as Steve sighs, placing his hands on his hips.

"No, but I guess she told you, yeah? You two looked pretty close in the parking lot earlier." Steve grunts, while Eddie lets out a smug laugh. "Careful big boy, you almost sound jealous."

"I'm not jealous man, I'm just...fuck, I don't know!” He exhales loudly, leaning against the wall of the motel room. “Maybe I am." Steve admits, putting a hand through his hair, slumping to the ground. “I just, I don’t know what’s going on with her y’know? She's always talked to me about everything and now? I can barely get her to look at me.” Steve sighs as Eddie takes a seat beside his friend, patting him on the shoulder.

“Look dude, there’s nothing to be jealous about ok? There’s nothing going on between us, shit I’d be so lucky.” Eddie chuckles and Steve feels a sudden feeling of relief wash over him. “Sadly, she’s only got eyes for one lucky son of a bitch and unfortunately, it isn’t me.” Eddie smirks, as the other boy lifts his head in a panic.

“She’s seeing someone?”

“No dumbass, fuck– do I really need to spell it out for you?" Eddie asks, his eyes rolling back in his head when Steve still hadn't gotten the hint. “Come on man, you’ve gotta know she’s fucking crazy about you?”

“What?” Steve exhales in disbelief as Eddie's words reply in his head. “Did she tell you that?”

“She didn’t have to.” Eddie replies letting out a heavy breath. “Steve man, you didn’t see her that night on the lake. You didn’t see the fear in her eyes when you got pulled under the water. She jumped in after you so fast, she didn't even look back to see if the rest of us were following."

Steve remembered that night vividly, probably better than anyone else. Hell, there were still nights that he woke up in a cold sweat, thinking those bats were feasting on his flesh. Those were the nights that he missed you the most. How you’d wrap your arms around him, pull him close and tell him everything was ok now. That you could finally all move on with your lives. He missed the feeling of your fingers running through his hair, the sound of your heartbeat as his head rested on your chest. You never told anyone about those nights, he’d made you promise. Cause he had to be strong for the kids.

He thought back to that night in the Upside Down, how he feared he'd never see your face again, that he'd never be able to tell you how he really felt about you. Then suddenly, you were there, eliminating the demobats one by one, tears in your eyes as you ran to him in a panic. He should have told you then, should have made it clear that you meant everything to him but then the others appeared and so he decided to choose another time. A time when you weren't in immediate danger. A time when it was just you and him and fuck, he'd tried to tell you so many times after that but every time he got close to saying it, something stopped him.

Fear.

What if he ruined everything?

What if you laughed in his face?

What if you didn't feel the same way?

What if it didn't work out and you left him like Nancy did?

Steve couldn't bare the thought of losing you, so instead of telling you the truth, he decided to bury his feelings deep down inside. Deciding, that he'd rather have you as a friend than not have you in his life at all. So, when Tracy Turner boldly asked him on a date, he begrudgingly accepted, hoping it would stop him from thinking about you.

It didn’t.

“Jesus Eddie, I’ve been such an idiot." Steve sighs angrily. "I’ve been trying so damn hard to pretend that I don’t have feelings for her instead of just..”

“Instead of what?” Eddie asks as Steve moves his head to look at his friend.

“Instead of telling her that I love her. That I’ve been in love with her since the moment she answered Henderson’s door three years ago.” He reveals and Eddie lets out the smallest of laughs.

“Yeah Harrington, you are an idiot and out of all the dumb shit you’ve ever done, pretending you don't love that girl is probably way up there. But from what I can see, she’s always gonna carry a big ol’ torch for you. So come on, go make this right and go get your girl. I’ve got a fuckin’ mosh pit to get to.”

When Steve and Eddie finally get to the entrance gate of the concert, they see Robin pacing back and fourth with a stressed out look on her face and Steve instantly feels a knot forming in his stomach when he realises you’re nowhere in sight.

"What the hell took you both so long?" She yells frantically.

“Had to knock some sense into Harrington here.” Eddie smirks, winking at Robin who offers him a confused glance.

"Where is she?" Steve questions his friend and Robin throws her hands in the air.

"I don’t know Steve! She took off by herself with some guy, went in with him, she didn't want to talk to me. She's pissed with a capital P!" Robin yells, angry at her friend for ever telling her that he'd been seeing Tracy Turner. Angry that she’d been put in the middle of this situation.

"Calm down Robs, we'll find her." Eddie reassures, placing a supportive arm around his friend.

"No, I'll find her, this is all my fault and I’m going to fix it." Steve says adamantly.

“I think you’re the last person she wants to see right now dingus.” Robin grunts but Steve’s already making a beeline for the entrance to the outdoor concert.

"Harrington!" Eddie yells as Steve takes a quick look back to his friends.

"Don't fuck it up." He shouts as the boy nods back before marching through a sea of bodies.

“What the hell is going on?” Robin questions, earning a grin from the metal head standing beside her as he throws a lazy arm over her shoulder.

“Fifty bucks says they’re fucking by the end of the night.”

Thirty minutes later and Steve is no closer to finding you. The darkness beginning to bleed in to the sky, the smell of weed and cheap alcohol lingering in the air as he looks for you in every queue, at every stand but it isn't until he hears the familiar laughter coming from behind him that he finally sees you. You’re sitting on the ground with a beer in hand, looking very cosy with the attractive tattooed stranger that’s much too close to you for Steve’s liking and your smile fades immediately when you see the boy standing in front of you.

"What are you doing? I've been looking everywhere for you." Steve asks, clearly annoyed by the presence of the other male beside you.

"I'm just making some new friends, not that it's any of your business." You mutter, taking a sip of your beer.

"This your boyfriend, sweetheart?" The man sitting next to you asks, grinning at Steve who keeps his eyes solely focused on you.

You shake your head instantly. "Nope. He's just a friend, or at least I thought he was."

“Can you please come with me? We really need to talk.” Steve begs, holding out a hand to you but you refuse to move. “We don’t have anything left to talk about.”

“I think we both know that we do.” Steve says, staring at you and you’re sure you see new determination behind his caramel tinted eyes.

"Don't worry about her pretty boy, I'll take good care of her, you go enjoy the show." The man smirks, placing a hand on your thigh as Steve’s jaw clenches.

"Get your hands off of her." Steve warns and suddenly you feel the tension in the air. Your eyes widen as Steve's fists begin to ball up, finally removing his eyes from you to look at the man sitting beside you.

"Why? She just said you're not her boyfriend and I don’t see her saying no.” The man responds, finally standing up to meet Steve face to face.

“Listen man, she’s coming with me, alright? Now get out of my face.” Steve threatens and you’re quick to jump to your feet now.

“Or what pretty boy?” The stranger smirks, shoving Steve back before you could get between them.

“Steve, don’t!” You warn, as his fist connects with the mans jaw, knocking him to the ground.

“Are you out of your fucking mind?” You yell at your best friend but he’s too focused on the impending retaliation to hear you. But just as the tattooed stranger tries to take a swing at Steve, his arm is dragged back by the security guard who had witnessed the whole altercation, deciding enough was enough,

“You three, you’re out of here now!” He demands, getting in the middle of the two males who had been fighting over you.

“He fucking suckered me, dude!” The other boy argues, holding his jaw but the security guard just laughs, ignoring his pleas. “You shoved me first, pal.” Steve replies smugly as you’re all led to the exit.

You don’t even try to defend yourself or make an argument as to why you should be left stay to watch the concert, deciding that going back to the motel was probably for the best, the night had already been ruined for you long ago and you just wanted to be alone.

“Hey, where are you going now?” Steve shouts after you, following you back towards the direction of the motel.

“Just go away Steve, haven’t you already caused enough trouble for one day?” You fire at him.

“Look, I’m sorry, I know I’ve been a jerk but I really need to talk to you.”

“I already told you, I don’t have anything left to say, so just leave me alone.” You beg but Steve shakes his head, catching up to you.

“I can’t do that.” He says as you roll your eyes trying to pass him but he gets in your way again. He was never going to let you walk back to the motel alone in the dark. Not when you were both well aware that things do in fact, go bump in the night.

“Steve, why can’t you just–"

“Look, I know you hate me right now and trust me, I really hate me too. But I just need to know one thing, please? Fuck, I’ll even switch with Robin so you don’t have to share a room with me, alright?” He bargains, as you finally give in. The prospect of not having to share a bed with him being too much to turn down.

What? What do you want to know, Steve?” You question, folding your arms as he takes a deep breath before placing his hands on his hips.

“I want to know what you were going to say before Eddie knocked on the door earlier."

"What are you talking about?" You say, eyes widening in panic as Steve lets out a breath, pleading with you to be honest.

“You know what I'm talking about."

"No, I..."

"When we were arguing and I brought up Hargrove, you said you were only with him because I was still getting–?" He questions softly as you shake your head, looking anywhere but at him.

"I don't remember."

"Honey, please just–"

“I don’t remember Steve! So just drop it, ok?” You interrupt, starting to walk away as you hear his voice calling behind you.

“Because I was still getting over Nancy?” He asks, as your whole body freezes.

How did he know?

When you turn back to face him, he’s still standing there, staring at you, waiting for you to say something. Anything.

“You really are full of yourself, you know that?” You reply, voice trembling as he begins to close the space between you and you're not sure how much longer you can keep this up.

“If that's not what you were going to say, then tell me?" .

"Why does it matter?" You question, raising a frustrated brow at him, not understanding why he couldn't just let it go.

"Because I need to know–"

"Need to know what Steve? If I had a crush on you three years ago? Fine, ok, yes, I had a crush on you. Who fucking didn't? You were the most popular guy in school! And yeah, I did go out with Billy because I knew you were still getting over Nancy but you know what? I actually liked Billy. He was different with me but he just couldn't stand me being friends with you. He kept saying that I had feelings for you, that what I felt for you was more than a friendship and so he made me choose: him or you.…and I picked you.” You reveal, tears beginning to fall from your eyes as you finally decide to be honest with your best friend. “Cause all this time, Billy fucking Hargrove was right. I did have feelings for you, even if it took me almost losing you that night on the lake to figure it out." You cry, finally feeling a huge weight lifting from your chest and for the first time in months, you could breathe again.

Steve was frozen, pink lips pursed as he put a hand through his hair, heart aching at your admission and how much it was killing him to see you so upset. He wishes he hadn't been so stupid, hadn't been so afraid of losing you and just told you the truth when he had the chance. You’d never told him or anyone else why you and Billy broke up, always keeping it to yourself and he was more than a little shocked to realise it was because of him.

Because you chose him.

“I..I didn’t know I was the reason you guys broke up.” He confessed, a sorrowful look on his face. “M’sorry.”

“Forget about it, it was a long time ago.” You shrugged coldly, hoping this would be the end of the conversation.

"I can't believe you picked me." He whispers as you let out a sarcastic huff, lifting your head to look at him.

"And I can't believe you picked Tracy."

You fire back, turning on your heels to walk towards your motel room, heartbroken, tired of arguing with him, tired of wanting him, tired of loving him and just as you were about to close the door, Steve’s hand stops you from shutting it, from shutting him out, a hurt look in his eyes as he stares at you silently for a moment before speaking.

"You think I picked Tracy over you?" Steve asks with sadness and anger in his voice as you wipe your tears, resting your head on the side of the door.

“Steve, I told you what you wanted to know. Please just-”

“No! You can't actually think I'd pick her over you?” Steve quizzes again, brows knitted together, voice more stern than the last time he asked.

“Why not? You wouldn’t be the first one.” You reply, referring to your old High School ex boyfriend Matt and Steve scoffs bitterly, hurt at the comparison.

“I can’t believe you could even think that, after everything we’ve been through, you know me better than that!”

“No Steve, I thought I knew you better than that! I thought we were best friends and that you would never ever hurt me but then you went and slept with her!” You fume, shoving him backwards as he grabs your arms gently but sternly, holding you in place. Finally letting himself inside, closing the door with the back of his foot.

“I didn’t, I didn’t sleep with Tracy!” He growls back at you, frustration apparent in his voice as you sneer at him, well aware of the notches on his bedpost. "Oh please, how stupid do you think I am, Steve?"

"I'm telling you the truth!” He snaps, as you get in his face. "Cause you've been so good at that lately, huh Harrington?" You reply, a harsh tone in your voice, refusing to back down.

"Jesus Christ, will you just listen to me for one god damn minute? I haven’t had sex with her alright? I couldn't."

"And why is that Steve? Did you realise she's a fucking–"

"Because of you!” Steve interrupts loudly, silencing you. "Because I'm in love with you! Because for the past three years since that night you answered Henderson’s door, it’s only been you.” He finally confesses, cupping your face, begging you to believe him as you see the sincerity written all over his face.

“Honey, do you really think if I had known that you had feelings for me– if I thought that me and you being together was even a possibility, that I’d be seeing anybody else?” He questions, as you stare silently at him, heart beating out of your chest as he looks into your eyes. His lips ghosting over your own as you try to catch your breath.

"Then why didn't you tell me?" You manage to ask as he shakes his head and smiles.

"Why didn't you tell me?" He retorts before cupping your face again, taking a deep breath. "I tried to, so many times. But every time I got close to it, I just...got scared." He admits, as you stare at him confused.

"Scared of what?"

"Of you not feeling the same way, of ruining our friendship, of us not working out... I was just scared of losing you." He mutters, lowering his head as you grab his face, forcing him to look at you.

"That would never happen, Steve."

"But it almost did! And it's my fault because I decided to be an asshole and date someone else instead of just telling you that I love–" You cut him off, placing your lips on his to stop him from talking but before Steve could even fathom what was happening, you broke the kiss again, resting your forehead on his.

"I love you too, Steve." You whisper, as he pulls you in for another kiss.

There were no words left to say, you’d said them all.

Two hours later, after the concert, Robin and Eddie decided to head back to the motel, having long given up on their search for you and Steve at the venue.

“What if she’s killed him Eddie? What if they’re fighting so bad that none of us can hang out anymore? What if we have to meet up with them at different times because they can’t stand being around each other? What about the kids?” Robin panics as Eddie laughs, rolling his eyes as he knocks on your motel room door.

After a few seconds, when the door remains unanswered, Robin begins to walk towards her own room, anxiety getting the better of her as Eddie continues to wrap on the door resiliently.

“Will someone open the god damn door before Buckley files a missing persons report?” The metal head pleads for his own sanity as he finally hears shuffling on the other side of the door.

His eyes light up and a shit eating grin spreads across his face as Steve finally answers the door, shirtless flushed and struggling to zip up his Levi’s.

“Sorry Munson, we were just, uh…sleeping.” Steve lies even though he knows it’s pointless. He can hear you giggling under the covers as Eddie notices your underwear on the floor behind Steve.

“Atta boy Harrington, I knew you had it in you.” Eddie winks. “I’ll leave you lovebirds get back to sleep. Don’t snore too loud, we’re in the next room.” He subtly teases as Steve smirks, quickly closing the door to join you in bed again.

“Did I hear Steve? Are they ok?” Robin asks, as Eddie enters their room smiling.

“Oh yeah, they’re fine. By the way, you owe me fifty bucks Buckley.”

Taglist: @freezaz123 @pbs-theundeadmaggot @season4steve @param8re @is-this-a-febreze-commercial @kathieycarrerarosshley @somethingvicked @l0ve-0f-my-life @hotelfohn @iheartjennaaa @whisperingwillowxox @chickenxdrum @eddiesguitarskills @mgchaser @mgmolina2000 @keerysfolklore

[semischarmed]

The Visit

I glance at my phone. 30 minutes. 30 minutes in this chair waiting for the doctor. 30 minutes in a freezing cold examination room wearing nothing but the disposable gown the nurse told me to wear. Now, I’m normally quite patient, but I begin to worry that they may have simply forgotten about me. I sit up straight, ready to leave the chair and ask for the nurse, when my new doctor comes into the room in a rush.

“Hey, Hey! Sorry, sorry. My last patient meeting went a bit over. That alright?“ He grins and verdant eyes sparkle. The man was dreamy. I could say nothing beyond nodding in agreement. 

“Great! Glad to hear it” he beams. I feel an explosion of warmth within my chest and stomach and can’t help but smile back. 

”Thank you so much for understanding. I’m Doctor Ryan! Good to meet you.” I readily shake his hand. Firm. Sturdy. Calloused.  

“Okay great, so we’re just gonna run through your vitals, and… says here you noticed an odd mark show up near your penis?” I flush bright red in embarrassment at the mention. Unperturbed, he continues without skipping a beat “Hmmm.. we’ll definitely want to get that checked. Probably harmless, but could be something bad…  I know the nurse probably covered most of these questions and took your vitals, but [he smirks] just wanna sure we get everything checked correctly, alright?” Damn it. Doctors always have a such way with words, I can’t help but melt in their arms. I feel a numb happy sensation wash over me and again nod in agreement. He was cute, too cute. God. Of course, whatever he thought this appointment was, he was completely off. Most likely picked up the wrong sheet or something, cause I only came for some immunizations. 

Still, the man has me spellbound. I comply with his every whim as he continues running through his normal questioning. In every word, he further puts my will to sleep, with every phrase he draws me closer. To me, his every sentence has progressively slowed the world around us. Not that I’m complaining. I am adrift, motionless in his pool of questioning, sandwiched between warm ocean and sunlight. For a short few moments, I am at peace. I was practically sleeping by the time the second round of questions finished. I feel a warm hand on my shoulder and break my spell slightly and I focus in on his beautiful face. “You okay there, bud?” More nods his way.

“Awesome. Let’s get started then.”

———

The physical was.. something else. We start with just an examination of my body. Pale, scholarly eyes remark on my every blemish, my every curve. It would be a nightmare in any other scenario, but in the secure glance of my doctor, I knew I was safe. Still, near his radiant heat, I could not help but get just a bit flustered. My answers are short, odd, my heart rate jumping to his vicinity.

He wiggles his stethoscope in the air. “We’re just gonna get your heart rate okay?” My mouth is hanging open and drooling slightly, but I nod. Really, it’s all I can do. Stunned to obedience. He just spoke so confidently, so assured in his examination. His tone was out of this world. It’s bright but resonant, like each word reverberated his command in my chest. His voice was no less potent. Sound-waves embrace the air with sweet honey, but an undertone of audible trust. I couldn’t bring myself to say anything else, still caught in this man’s spell. Now, a handsome man gets me feeling the same way a doctor often does. But he was both. I can manage nothing beyond a smile and continue nodding “okay.” 

I moan at the touch of the stethoscope. It was ice. Penetrative, cold ice, but in his expert hands, it felt like gift from the man. I imagine the metal is a piece of him, precious metal, precious silver embedding itself in me. I want it in me forever- uh, the man, not the stethoscope. 

He grunts. Fuck. “Sorry” I say sheepishly. That moan was definitely audible then. Further embarrassment floods me, only tempered by by the tingling sense of relaxation I felt in being examined by this man. He takes the odd outburst in stride, giving a half smile before continuing. “Believe it or not, you’re not the first”. The man was a professional through and through.

---

In the middle of making sure my reflexes were still functioning, his face winces, and his upper lip trembles, immediately breaking my illusion. He lets out a quick gasp “Ah.. I.. aahhh” barely audibly. I watch as his knuckles grasp the sides of the cushion in my chair desperately, going white in the process. For the first time in our entire session, the haze cast by this man’s being is broken entirely. I feel the dullness in my mind clear as I take note of the oddness from what had just transpired. His mouth goes wide and his face scrunches up into an emotion that I can’t quite place between pain and pleasure. Maybe both? In any case, before I can even investigate further, it relaxes immediately. Emotionless. 

Then, his eyes twitch before going glassy. Doctor Ryan looked like he was about to throw up. Pleading eyes stare into my soul, but the rest of his face remains blank. I am shocked beyond shocked at this point to do anything beyond stare in disbelief while a shit-eating grin slowly paints his face. His eyes blink back to lucidity- now focused on me, and single tear pools on the corner of his left eye and drips down his cheek. He stops it with his thumb before it can drop further, before nonchalantly wrapping plump lips around it. In a slight suction noise, when he pulls the thumb out his mouth in what looks to be a deliberately seductive manner, staring intently at my face the entire time. What the fuck. 

Immediately, he returns to examining me, making no mention of what had just occurred. This time though, his movements seem just a bit erratic, a bit unrefined. I also catch brief glimpses of that same cringing face every time he moves to the next step in his examination, like he was pulling long-forgotten memories from what should be a fairly standard procedure. He repeats the physical, this time going over my every part much more slowly. Any touch, any connection we had seemed to linger just a bit longer than needed. He almost seemed... Interested? Nervous? Whatever case, with every movement, and every step, his hands get a bit steadier, actions more confident. Whatever just happened to him seemed to be over. I am intrigued, if a bit scared. He was acting suspicious. Too many things seemed to line up for me to dismiss this as just normal checkup. In lustful wishes, I invoke whatever I can, hoping I’m correct. I try to sneak a peak at the outline of his admittedly large penis in his scrubs. Absolutely Flaccid. Odd. Disappointing, to say the least. Whatever this weird, hot doctor was doing, he wasn’t getting off on it.

When he gets to my lower body, he abruptly splits my knees open, spreading my legs wide. Another moan almost escapes me. Thankfully a veil of disposable fabric separates my doctor from my now semi-erect penis. Unthankfully, I can’t help but tent the gown full mast when his ice cold hands begin to trace and snake slowly around my inner thigh. I look at him in shock and he just beams back at me like the past few minutes had not just happened. “Hmmm… great legs…” My face goes crimson and I scream internally at my own inability to control my own body. “Okay, your -hNnggg-ah cha-chart, yes. Apologies for the outburst… your chart seemed to mention some concerns about your penis? Let’s take a closer look” He states, looking up at me with a half-smile. 

“No- er, I think- ah, you got the wrong-” I can barely stammer out a response in the raw stimulation of Doctor Ryan grabbing and gently examining my cock and balls. Pleasure bloomed wherever his fingers glided over. This was a mental battle I could not win. Mind versus body. I was fighting myself, my own urges. He makes gentle cupping motions around my balls, back and forth. I look at him in bewilderment. There was no way this was just for a normal examination. He smiles pleasantly, “just checking for anything out of place… so far, so good”. Mystery solved, I guess. He slowly wraps thick fingers, encircling my cock in an embrace. Not solved. Not solved. I am rock hard. He gives a short chuckle. “Well, at the very least, your nerves appear to be working…. Blood flow looks good as well…Nothing out of the ordinary so far”. I am beet red at this point. Fuck me. I can’t even compose myself in front of this man. 

Then, Doctor Ryan gives it a tug. FUCK. 

“Holy shiiiiiit” I moan out. I turn my head away as my body quivers and gives in to a moment of divine pleasure. Betrayed by my own senses. A second, higher pitched moan escapes my now open throat, barely audible, while the a tiny bit of clear fluid spills onto the doctor’s unflinching hand. I can’t bear to look this guy in the eye. I need a new fucking doctor.

“You know, this is completely natural. Absolutely a normal human body response. Don’t worry about it” he says absentmindedly as he continues. “If anything, at least we know you can still produce, so it doesn’t look like there’s anything to worry about”. He mumbles happily. Outside my sightline, I swear I hear a licking, slurping noise. His hand, looked a bit wetter than before too.That being said, my brain has shut down from humiliation. At this point all I can manage is a blank nod. 

“Well, good news- you’re perfectly hea- Oh! Actually, do you mind?” He begins to unbutton his coat and then proceeds set it on the table beside me.  “You know it’s always a bit hot and stuffy in these rooms”. My eyes can’t help but visually eat at the feast before me. Bare chest and stray hairs poke out from his scrubs. The sleeves are taut around his massive biceps. Despite the objectively unflattering material, it can’t help but conform slightly to his muscular physique. It was pretty clear before, but it was definitely fact now. My doctor was hot as fuck. Something about his last question eats away at my my brain. It wasn’t hot at all. The room is cold, dry, sterile. Hell, this whole hospital is. It’s like he has me back in a trance though. Words smooth as silk, body like sculpture. He had a power over me, so I nod in compliance without even acknowledging how absurd the previous statement was.

“So, as I was saying... the good news is your vitals are all in line.” He laughs kindly, patting my stomach “Maybe eat a bit more protein every now and then”. The voice is warm and reassuring. My brain relaxes to the end in sight to this half dream-half nightmare. I start to get up to get changed before I realize the entire reason for the visit.

“Hey-er, wait! My Immunizations! I needed to get some immunizations done for my-“ 

“Oh?” He cuts me off, eyebrows raised. Intrigue paints his face.  

Then he leans in close, head right up to my ear until the parts of chest peaking from the hospital gown touches the stray hairs poking out from his scrubs. Until we share warmth in that cold examination room. He breathes alongside me in rhythm as he exhales.

“You…don’t need any immunizations. I do… well, I did, anyway. It’s too late for him now...But we do have something planned, for you-we’re gonna try an experimental processss. A brand new… test…just for you...” He whispers. He pauses as he continues to breathe and I feel the hot, damp air emanating from his mouth coat my ear. “We need to test you for... stimulation.” Dear God. That last word he draws out in a far, far different tone than before. It neither clinical nor polite, and it hit like a brick. There was raw emotion in that last word. Raw lust. He cups the other side of my face pulling my left cheek to touch his. Like his chest, it’s quite warm. I’m flush with redness and confusion. I gulp nervously.

His tone returns in its warmth and politeness, contrasted by the intimate position we are in. “Hmmmmm salivating...mmmm... Quite a bit actually. You’re either haven’t eaten… or… you’re hungry for something.” I can’t manage out anything coherent amidst the sensory overload. He continues confidently, “C’mon... I’m your primary care physician? Let me take care of it. Let me take care of you...” He sticks his hand down his own pants, scratching to readjust. With our chests together, I am brought to our present moment. A moment in paradise. When he ebbs, I flow. Like a dance, my chest caves in with every exhale as his puffs out. He does in turn. We were partners. His scent pours out unconfined, unfiltered by distance, concentrated in our proximity. Like rainfall and crushed grass. I could live in it. With our cheeks pressed together, I feel his every movement. Every word spoken drawn in by my inhale. These would be mine to keep. This moment was ours and ours alone. He brings up the same hand, now a bit slimier to take a whiff before shoving that sweaty, funky smelling hand right to my face. I can’t control myself and start inhaling my hot doctor. I lick the man’s hand clean. Delicious.

I continue lapping it up in silence before he finally breaks it to speak. “Mhmmmmm... that’s the stuff... Maybe if we feed you enough of this hot doctor’s cum, you’d pick up on some of his residual intelligence and figure who’s really running this man.” My eyes light up, and the pieces finally all click together in my head. I chuckle. 

“Good to see you too, Ben.”

———

“Leave it to humans to take something so beautifully sensual and twist it. He’s a bit too good at compartmentalizing. In many respects… It’s fucking hot. But, you know, when he’s in this work mode, he sees you as nothing more than sack of meat. We’re not getting anywhere with him without a little push”. Without warning, Ben pulls the doctor’s pants down and fiddles with his new dick- still flaccid. Jesus Christ it’s huge. 

“Look, even this... appendage. Yes that’s an atypical response. I mean look at me, look at this new body we acquired. I’m swimming in this human’s hormones.” He wraps his hand around and begins pumping it. “But see here, it’s still all clinical in this head. I can only get inside him so far. We need something to end this human’s resistance. We need something extra to break him out of this trance. We need raw emotion.”

Just then, the door comes wide open. It’s Austin.

As he closes the door behind him, I see his face more clearly. It’s Austin’s body, but its pilot is undeniably Ben. Austin had a certain swagger to him that my little alien buddy just can’t quite replicate.

Ryan’s mouth opens wide and I watch as his true form exits from my doctor’s mouth and shoot strait into Austin’s welcoming nose. I watch as the doctor goes lucid. His eyes go wide and he stares at me in horror before attempting to escape. Before he can, he is pinned to the ground by the far larger Austin. “Cmon man, smell this fucking body. Feel something”

“If you can’t… we’ll do it for you. We’re going for a wild ride.. relax and enjoy it.” Austin’s eyes roll to the back of his head, and I watch as he gives a crazed grin, jaws open unnaturally wide. His tongue sticks out, his head is bright red, and pulsing silver courses through now-prominent veins. Damn. My Doctor looks at me with one last pleading glance, but all I can do is moan “I want you mine.” 

Doctor Ryan lets out an involuntary scream when he notices the changes in Austin’s face, which only work to his disadvantage as a pulsating, semi-solid mass of silver falls into his open maw. Austin sticks their mouths together. Using his tongue, he maintains a steady passageway for Ben. Using his lips, Austin keeps the doctor’s pried open to forcibly receive the precious silver. Their heads bob back and forth as more and more of the slimy mass falls into doctor. I watch as a massive lumps outline themselves in his throat, then his chest, before disappearing into the depths of his body. I notice a little bit pool and spill out the corner of his mouth. When the process is over, Austin’s body falls limply to the side. I stare at the messy pile of silver goo still smeared over Ryan’s drooling mouth. Should I?

I lean over, giving my dream man a kiss. My eyes flutter at the prospect. Ugh, he’s perfect. I feel the every contour of the face of man who would soon be ours, before sucking up the excess silver an a bit of his drool in my mouth. No use putting this stuff to waste. 

In a flash, I feel ecstasy. “Jesus fucking christ” I moan, as I feel a burst of energy from within. The parts of silver which were Ben settle into me, surging me with power and I feel his thoughts reverberate in my mind. In that split second, I also feel the vertigo of looking from two bodies at once. I feel the immense pleasure of controlling two bodies at once and the parts of silver which were Austin become immediately apparent. Goddamn what a fucking power trip. Austin was mine. A quick rush of stolen confidence from my previous tormentor floods my insides and I welcome my updated sense of self. Fuck yeah. Took a part of him for me. He’s never getting this back. I stare at his body and will it up. My dominion, now. While his head still hung unconscious, I move my fingers and tingle in delight as I watch his hands follow. The moment is fleeting though, and I feel the disappointment as my vision recedes back to my singular one.”Hope you liked that” I feel Ben state in my head. “Just a taste. This piece of us you’ve ingested... I think it’s best you keep it. I find this setup beneficial to us both. We can keep in constant contact this way. You might find some residual power left over Austin too, thought probably not in the way you think… at least… not yet.“ 

Before I can question him in my head, the doctor’s body shivers awake and then spasms before letting out a primal scream. Ryan’s looked... bigger? Almost swollen. His body occupied the same space they did before, but there was a larger presence to him. His muscles pump up, obviously riled into a frenzy. “Just a little attitude adjustment, and...Goddamn easy mode, Fuck!” He faces me. His eyes are rolled to the back of his head and silvery veins pulse all over his body. Seconds later, he settles and his eyes return to focus me. “Fuck yeah, you wanted this doctor, right? Bro, you know my bod’s way better. Fuck it though, I don’t care  as I’m a part of the ride. Remember your fucking promise.” He states through gritted teeth. Unnatural coming out of the normally Angelic Doctor Ryan. 

“Your Doc’s too nice though, right? You… Ben… you deserve better. I’ll make us better for you. Look how much fucking bigger, how much more of a fucking man we are with some Austin mixed in....” I am speechless, but he’s right. The doctor now exuded a dominating presence. In any other circumstance, I’d be frightened and compliant. In the presence of Ben, I felt safe.

“Thank Ben he brought us inside this man. Mmmmmm his brain is delicious… I feel so much smarter inside him. We’re gonna fuck him up. Make him better, like you did to me. Twist his head. Make him want your cum almost as much as I do. Make him want to spread more Ben around…. Mmmm speaking of, I feel him inside me. He’s squirming into us both out and goddamn it feels good.” Ryan’s body moans Austin’s moan. “I can’t wait for you to learn how to do this... to put yourself inside me-Please! Fuck! Learn it faster! That... part of me you stole… I feel good as part of you, right? You like it in you, right? Pure fucking jock. Take good care of it…more where that came from”. It was definitely my doctor, but between the behavior and facial expressions, undeniably Austin. Well, post-Ben Austin.

“I-Arrgh” I watch curiously as the doctor’s body shivers. “Ben’s... ready for you.” He winks as his eyes briefly roll to their sockets and roll back. Austin-er Ryan’s demeanor immediately changed ”Had to do a little arranging inside this doctor. We just need one final piece. Ryan’s body ready to receive its new masters. I need you to put as much cum inside this man as you can... I really like this one, his position is useful. But his mind... it’s so vast. He’s no Austin...It’s gonna take a lot more of our genetic material to tame it.”

Austin-er Ben does pushups on the floor. He clears a few hundred before wiping his sweat all over his scrubs. Of course, despite channeling Austin’s very essence, this body is not nearly as buff or as muscular as his so I watch as Ryan is forced to push up and down beyond his limits, tears streaming down his eyes, hands and legs shaking in protest, forced smiling all the while. Previously crisp scrub are now stained, damp in Ben’s body’s perspiration. The smell this weird, hybrid mix emanated was unique. Of course, it still had the cleanliness I’d expect from a doctor. Fresh cologne and nature- exactly what I’d expect from the healthy, professional man which had previous examined me. This man before me was not the same man as before. Because, interwoven was the musk, the testosterone, the pungent stink of our deranged puppet Austin. It was altogether divine. 

“Look at this.” He states with a sneer as he does a bicep flex. His damp scrubs hug his muscle tightly, almost breaking at the seams. The bicep is throbbing. “I feel this body crying in pain and exhaustion. From his mind though... do you know how muscles are made? Tiny tears regrown stronger” A pulse of silver darts through his veins, immediately returning it to stillness. “What wonderful new information. We’re gonna use that. Fill into these layers with a bit of Ben, and a bit of you”. He starts laughing now “Doc Ryan here doesn’t call the shots…This isn’t his body anymore… It’s ours.” 

With that, Ben lifts my gown and sticks his drenched head near my already-hard cock. Fuck he’s warm. Our sweat and scents mingle and I feel my inner thighs go moist in the perspiration in the air. 

“Austin, to the forefront. Combined effort. We need him body and mind. Let us create a new Ryan,” he states. My doctor slowly wrap his thick, plump lips over my dick. Moment’s later, the man’s wet tongue slides forward. I shudder. A bit tickles in a spot just below the head and I squirm on the spot. Jesus fuck, oh- oh fuck, he’s good- he’s really good.

My shaking hands are sloppily held in place. I move them reflexively in the onslaught of pleasure. It’s like Ryan’s body was made for this. Absolute Heaven. I let out a loud moan as I continue to squirm in the confines of my position. Ben had commandeered some control of Austin’s unconscious body, and it stood there, just over me, holding my hands in place and body. Its eyes were rolled back, mouth drooling. Bits of spit dribbled to my forehead. I paid them no mind. Basically an extension of my own bodily fluids at this point anyway. Besides, whatever made Austin, Austin was mostly inside Ryan now, helping Ben add a wonderful new addition to our collection. 

Ryan’s sensual motions, His body expertly bobbing, beckons mine. Erotic symphony. I can do nothing beyond quake in my seat. I hold for as long as I can but it’s too much. This was it. First, I moan. Then, I scream. FUCK. Goddamn bliss. Sweet Release. Pure Ecstasy. I am reduced to babbling internally as I release more and more of myself inside Ryan’s welcoming mouth. Using his powerful chest, he creates a slight suction, greedily taking as much of my cum inside as he can. The body begins to choke for air, but I feel Austin and Ben smile instead and continue inhaling my cum. Their eyes only relayed one word. More. There’s not much else I could have done anyway, because I continue to spew load after load inside the man. It’s the best I ever felt, the longest it’s ever been and the most I ever given. I sit in extended euphoria, paralyzed in bliss. Logic aside, ethics aside, this was my new order. Our new order. In my mind I strive to continue on, to bring more to this light. So many delicious fucking bodies in this town. So many new ‘me’s destined, yearning for my control- even if they didn’t know it yet. That last bit might have been some of Austin’s megalomania in me.   

The phone rings at Ryan’s side and he picks it up. Someone patches in a call. 

“Doctor are you alright? We heard some odd noises“. I watch Ben in alarm. He cracks his head to the side, cock still in his mouth, and veins coursing in silver fluid display prominently in his temples. He switches demeanor almost seamlessly back. In contrast, like strings cut, Austin’s body falls over me, unmoving. I didn’t mind. I inhale his jock essence as I listen in.

“Yewph- Iw- Ehem.. I’m quiw ahwigh, *gulp*… ahhh yeah.. Apologies, Nancy this appointment is taking just a bit longer than expected. I’ll be ready soon- just need a little more time with this one.” Every word again resounds warmly, calmly, politely in this man. When Ben channels Ryan, it’s like I’m hearing the same person who examined me earlier. He was ours. I glance his way and a bit of my cum is still on his lips as he continues his conversation. He happily draws it to his mouth with a finger and sucks it clean. My cock is drenched in the doctors sweat. Fucking hot. Ben found us a real catch. “Dr. Ben” ends the call and mentally, he’s back to our present situation, back to huffing in breathless pleasure, as he continues sucking the any residual mess in me clean. He gives me a wink as he finishes. 

Ryan then stands over to Austin, and, in a reverse of the process from earlier vomits out the same silvery mass, now slick with streaks of white, back into its container. There was significantly less this time. From the still open mouth of Ryan, I watch the tiny man emerge, giving me a motion that indicated he was smiling. “I’m staying in this one a bit longer. Driving this particular specimen gives me a pleasure not wholly physical.” The mouth slowly closes and Ryan’s eyes show life again. He smiles. I look expectantly at the two of them. They begin making out. The sounds are sloppy and I can’t help but get a bit jealous. Taking note, they both stop abruptly before giving me a wink. The both speak at once while Ryan begins stripping stark naked.

“Can’t help it...You should come and stay in this room for a while. My next patient’s got quite a body we can utilize, based on this man’s memory. You still got some cum left in you? I can’t expand further without it” I nod happily. If Ben thinks he’s cute, we had to at least try. What am I saying? I can produce like a motherfucker, took part of my bully inside, made it mine. I may not look it yet, but I was alpha now.  

“Austin, strip down, I need some new clothes, and yours are a better fit.” Austin’s face cringes and I watch as his normal personality returns. Normal was a stretch, because he was far more subservient now than he was before this all began. Ben then looks at me with a toothy smile as he walks over to my pile of neatly folded clothes and digs out my underwear. He nonchalantly strips stark naked and then proceeds to put on my underwear. “This is a tight- Hmph!” He struggles to get each thick leg through “-ah, your clothes...Mmm! So tiny”. This results in my hot, nearly naked doctor wearing my underwear tightly. It’s pulled to its seams as it’s forced to constrict and hold together the doctor’s massive package. I watch as his cock begins to get hard, only to be restricted by the fabric. He moans at the setup. “Ayyyyeeee fuck! Fuck yeah. It feels like you’re in here, squeezing this host’s cock and ass. I’m gonna make sure he wears this forever. I’m gonna make sure this imprints our scent into this man. Look at me. Look at this muscle. Ryan..mmmmm.... all the brains and brawn in the world couldn’t help you. Every time he gets hard on, I want him to be wearing this. I want his penis to scrape this, to be bound by it, forever a reminder of who the real Ryan is now.”

Ben’s new doctor personality switches back. He politely gestures to his pile of clothes, still freshly warm before looking at me. “If you’re gonna be my assistant, you’ll need to look the part,” he states with a kind smile. I eye the warm pile, almost steaming in the residual heat. Ryan’s body licks its lips. Ben again. “Wear it. This man is ours, forever. Take ownership of that. Of those clothes. There’s so much of your genetic material embedded inside this particular specimen, at this point these are your own as much as it is his.”

I rush over to put the scrubs on, to feel the residual heat in my doctor Ryan envelop me. I relish in it. Still warm and moist with his sweat. It was like I was wearing the man myself. Of course, it fits loosely over me, and I barely pass as an assistant. He leans over to me. “smell it” he whispers. “Smell yourself. I like you better this way”. He’s right. I smell so fucking alpha in this getup. Ben then begins putting on Austin’s clothes, which are a much better fit. 

In contrast, Austin is forced to wear the remainder my clothes, which he creepily sniffs first and ends up with it fitting way too tight and revealing on him. I gesture to offer the scrubs I just put on instead, but he immediately declines in a huff, “No... I’m fucking better this way. More... complete” He moans “This was the way I was meant to be... yours... wearing this makes me feel like you’re here inside me, wearing your own clothes. I belong like this...This is your body, it misses you, and he doesn’t feel whole until you’re back home.” He pats himself. “I can’t wait for you to become this. And I’m not fucking taking no for an answer either. One day, I’m putting you where you belong- inside me so we can never be separated again. Moving around feels empty when you’re not in here doing it for me”. What the fuck did Ben do? The guy, my previous bully was horny just being near me. It felt amazing.

I silently thank Ben. Whatever Austin was rambling on about turned me the fuck on. I smiled. That piece of Austin I ingested earlier- I think his shitty vocab’s been rubbing off on me. Regardless, Austin was right- wearing him, controlling him from the inside was where I belonged. I deserved it. Deserved him. “Wait for us at home- we won’t be long” Ben instructs Austin through Ryan in a fatherly tone. Austin complies, leaving the room, staring longingly at me until he no longer could. 

Ben puts on his coat. “Well then, that’s settled. I hope your cock is ready, human, we have a full schedule of bodies to possess.“

-End of “Ben Pt. 2″-

A smarter version of me would have split this into two parts. Also, preemptive apologies to anyone in a medical profession.

[grasslandgirl]

FALLING for you

It was an accident. Really. Katja was tall, and she’d always been more comfortable on horseback than on her own feet. So when a root sticking out of the ground caught on her boot while she was walking home from school with Ostentatia; it was an inevitability that Katja would trip. And take Ostentatia down with her. And somehow, through a feat of physics Katja didn’t understand, ended up sprawled on her back with Ostentatia on top of her- their faces mere inches apart.

Katja stared. Ostentatia stared back. Katja didn’t think about how she could smell Ostentatia’s strawberry lip gloss, the Love Spell perfume she reapplied at lunch, the oregano hair rinse her Nonna made her use every weekend. Ostentatia blinked down at Katja. Katja was sure she was bright red and probably smelled like the stables (the bad stables smell, like dirt and sweat and poop- not the good stables smell of fresh hay and Cinnamon’s special cinnamon-scented mane conditioner). 

Ostentatia sat up, rolling off of Katja and sitting down on the grass beside her. Katja closed her eyes for a moment, staying sprawled out on her back. Her stomach was one big knot and she could still feel Ostentatia watching her. Her knee was right next to Katja’s ribs, and if either of them moved even an inch, they would be touching. Katja opened her eyes again, looking up at the blue sky through the branches of the tree above her.

She sat up. Ostentatia was still staring at her, mouth pursed up tiny and determined. 

"I- I'm sorry-" Katja started to say.

Ostentatia shoved her hand out towards Katja's face, holding one finger in front of her face to silence her. "Don't say you're sorry." Ostentatia commanded, and Katja's mouth snapped shut. She tried very hard not to think about how close Ostentatia's hand was to her mouth. She tried not to think about how close Ostentatia’s mouth had been to hers a minute ago. This is just how Ostentatia, Katja told herself, she's loud and she's pushy and she goes into my personal space because she cares about me- like a friend. That's it. "Don't apologize to me," Ostentatia continued, scowling up at Katja. "You did not to anything wrong."

"But I-"

"No!" Ostentatia interrupted again, "I need to tell you something! And I'm going to say it!"   

Katja nodded, mute with worry. Ostentatia stood, unspeaking. Her eyes bored holes into Katja. Her jaw trembled, even as she glared, and Katja worried for a second that Ostentatia was about to cry.

Ostentatia crying was the third worst thing Katja could think of, after Cinnamon dying or her Dad being upset. Katja very pointedly did not think about the connecting factor between those three things. If Ostentatia started crying, than Katja was going to start crying too, and then Ostentatia would be upset she'd made Katja cry, and then Penny would appear out of nowhere- she had a weird sixth sense ability to tell whenever one of them was crying- and the weird moment would be broken.

Katja didn't think about how pretty Ostentatia still managed to look- even when she cried. Tears streaming down her face in clean lines, eyes sparkling even as she glared at someone or something, nose turning bright red. Katja always ended up with a lot of snot over her face, and that wasn't a good look for anyone but Cinnamon (who looked beautiful always and forever no matter the circumstances).

Katja wondered what was so important or so bad that Ostentatia couldn't bring herself to say it aloud- even to her. There were only a few things that Ostentatia struggled to say (that was one of the things Katja lo- liked the most about her; how Ostentatia wasn't ever afraid to say what she thought)- not like Katja, who still felt the most comfortable talking to Cinnamon.

"I'm going to say it." Ostentatia repeated, but it sounded more like she was saying it to herself this time, not to Katja. Her finger was still an inch away from Katja's lips. Katja still wasn't thinking about it. Ostentatia had really pretty hands, too: perfect nails with real gems on them, she and her mom had a regular appointment to get them done together every month. One time, Ostentatia invited Katja to go with them, but Katja didn't end up going- it's hard to set up horse tack with inch-long acrylics. (Even if Ostentatia said her nail tech could totally do a horse design if Katja wanted. Even though Ostentatia had taken Katja's hand in her own and told her she had nice nail beds. Even though Ostentatia's hands had been warm and gentle on hers.) Katja blinked. Ostentatia was scowling.

Back before they were The Maidens, back before they were friends, Katja had thought that Ostentatia's scowl was the scariest thing in the world (after the thought of Cinnamon getting hurt or dying, of course). But, Katja realized with a little bit of pride, she knew Ostentatia well enough now to know this wasn't her pissed-off-at-You scowl, this was her pissed-off-at-Me scowl.

"I'm gonna say it," Ostentatia said for the third time, almost murmuring it. Her perfectly-manicured eyebrows were low over her eyes, jaw set and determined.

"I love you," Ostentatia whispered.

Katja's heart fell out of her chest.

Ostentatia wasn't one who was afraid of telling people she loved them- she did it often, loudly, and with pride. But this was different. This wasn't how Ostentatia said it to the other maidens, or even how Katja had overheard her say it to her family. This was quiet, an intention behind the words that Katja was terrified to put a name to. 

Ostentatia huffed, blowing a small strand of hair out of her face. "I mean like- whatever, I love you. Like. Eugh-" she finally took her hand away from Katja's face, gesturing with both of her arms wildly- "Like love you, okay! Like, Zelda and her weirdo boyfriend, like Danielle and Antiope, like Sam and that fucking bitch Aelwyn. Like- like you. Okay??" Ostentatia's voice rose in pitch and volume as she talked, but behind all her bravado, Katja saw something she'd never seen in Ostentatia before- uncertainty.

Oh.

"Oh." She breathed, and like she was waiting for any response from Katja, Ostentatia froze- arms hanging in the air, mid-gesture.

"Oh?" Ostentatia echoed. Her voice was angry, but her eyes were still uncertain, even- afraid.

"I, uh, like- love you too." Katja mumbled. She'd read a lot of the romance-centric books in the Babysitter's Horse series (even written some stories of her own for some of them, but that wasn't here or there-) but nothing Katja had ever read could have prepared her for how hard it was to say it aloud. "Uh, I didn't know that- but you just- and I don't know how to. Yeah."

"Yeah?"

"Uh. Did you want to-" Katja racked her brain for something cool or romantic to say. (In most of the Babysitter's Horse books, they went and got hay from the same trough together- or even sugar cubes in some of the later, teen editions- but Katja didn't think Ostentatia would want to do that.) "Get ice cream? From Basrars? With me? Just me- not the other girls? Or, I mean, if you wanted to invite them too we can if you want to, but I thought maybe we could-"

"Yes." Ostentatia was twisting one of her rings around her finger- a nervous tic- but she was smiling up at Katja. She had a really pretty smile, and it made something go mushy and warm in Katja's stomach to realize that it was her that was making Ostentatia smile like that. "Yes. Basrar's. A date."

"Oh. Okay. Cool." A date. 

"Okay," Ostentatia said definitively. She took Katja's hand in her own- warm, with callouses on her palm and cool metal rings on her fingers. "Let's go." Ostentatia tugged Katja to her feet. 

“Ostentatia?” Katja hated how her voice wavered, hated how even in this wonderful, important moment, she still shook with uncertainty. She turned, raised an imperious eyebrow; but there was still that warm smile on her mouth, her hand around Katja’s- and that was enough to bolster Katja’s courage. “I wanted to kiss you. Earlier. When we-” Katja felt like her face was on fire- “and also. Before then. A lot. So.” She grimaced, looking down at Ostentatia’s warm hand still tight around hers. “Sorry, I’m not good at this.”

“Katja.” Ostentatia took a step closer. Katja could see her pristine Fantasy Uggs in the grass. “Look at me.” How was Katja supposed to ignore that? She did, tugging her gaze away from their interwoven fingers. Ostentatia’s smile was a blinding, burning thing, spread across her face. Katja had heard her talk about her god’s Holy Forge before- how it had burned impossibly hot for centuries, how no mere mortal could look upon it without Logran’s blessing or their face would get burned off- Katja thought that’s what Ostentatia’s smile looked like. So beautiful she was scared she would go blind from the force of it. “You’re good at this. You’re good at a lot of stuff. Don’t shit talk my girlfriend like that.”

“Girlfriend-?” Katja squeaked. 

“Yeah.” 

“Okay.” 

“And for the record? I thought about kissing you, too.” Ostentatia tipped her head, huffing as though she’d just won an argument. Katja beamed. “So there. Can we go get ice cream and make out now?”

“Ye- yeah. Yes. Let’s go.” Katja held Ostentatia’s hand the whole way to Basrar’s- and she didn’t trip once.

[chaeiimimi]

HEY BUBS! I HOPE YOU’RE DOING GREAT, PART TWO WAS SUCH A BOMB AS WELL ALDJAKDJA I’M LOWKEY GETTING BABY FEVER ALREADY AT THIS POINT LMAO JK AKSJAKS IF YOU HAVE TIME, I’D LIKE TO REQUEST OSAMU / SUNA / OIKAWA / AKAASHI ALDHAKS ANY OF THEM WOULD BE FINE UWU 😫

HEY BUBS I’M SO SORRY FOR THE LATE REPLY BFIWBFIWBF MY LIFE’S BEEN PRETTY CRAPPY LATELY, I’M GLAD YOU LIKED THE SECOD PART AAAAA STAY HAPPY AND HEALTHY BUBS ILY <3

Haikyuu Boys and a Single Mom Pt. 3

Featuring: Suna, Bokuto, Kenma

Suna Rintaro

despite being a professional volleyball player, Suna was still a university student, he evenly splits up his days to go to volleyball practice and university

he was always dreading to go to university, but he knew he needed it, and you, being his seating beside you in three classes, made university bearable

you had this amazing aura, always so gentle, and kind, you had a soft smile plastered on your face almost like a motherly smile, your voice was always calm and soft, you were just so breath-taking to look at

although you two never talked that much, Suna already knew a lot of little details about you, he once drove pass you walking to the kindergarten just one street away from your university, he knew that you carry a container of fruits in your bag, you always left as soon as classes for the day was over, and that was only a few among a hundred of little things about you

Suna admired you from afar, as much as he likes you so much it physically hurts him, love just wasn't his priority, his priority was volleyball and his career

or at least he thought

life surely has a great sense of humor because somehow you guys ended up being partners for a thesis paper

"I look forward to working with you Suna" you smiled

"likewise" he says with his usual blank face

Suna didn't want to admit it, but he was excited

"so, where do we work on this?" he asks looking at the notes he took for that class

"well, we can work on it at my place" you say casually while also looking at your notes

"are you sure it's okay?" he asks again to make sure, this girl, the person he's been crushing on for his two years in university is now inviting him to her place

"yeah, i can't really spend a lot of time outside, my son hates it" 

and just like that Suna was having a mini heart attack, you were married? you have a son? what-

“hey, you alright?” you asked worriedly

Suna quickly composed himself 

“uhh y-yeah, won’t your husband get angry?” he asks 

“oh don’t worry I raise Kiro by myself” you smiled

Suna looked at you strangely, unable to keep up 

you chuckled at his dazed look “I’m a single mother” 

Suna almost breathed out a sigh of relief, thankfully he was able to stop himself or else you would get the wrong idea

“yeah, yeah sure, let’s work on it at your place” he snapped out of it, did he sound too happy to hear that you were single? yes, but we ain’t gonna talk about that 

what was your ex thinking? he was pretty sure your kid was cute and you were so breath-taking to look at, what a stupid guy    

“what does your son likes?” 

“hm?” you asked him to make sure you heard him right 

“what does your son likes?” 

later in the evening, Suna showed up at your place with chocolate chip ice cream and the most expensive sushi he could find

you worked on your project for a good two hours, finalizing the outline of the thesis, while Kiro sat on Suna’s lap, your son immediately liked him, maybe because of the ice cream and sushi , but Kiro was very fond of him

“Kiro, baby, get off of Suna’s lap please he might get tired” you said to your son while you were keeping the things you used

“I don’t mind, he’s surprisingly light” Suna says as he bounces Kiro on his lap

“alright, if you say so, I’m going to prepare snacks” you made your way to the kitchen and left the two in the living room

“mister rin-rin” Kiro whispers while tugging on Suna’s shirt

“hm?” he answers looking at the kid, he was right, Kiro was extraordinarily adorable, it felt like he was looking at a smaller boy version of you and it was making her heart go feral, making him break his rules and try his best to get the both of you

“i want you to be my daddy” he whispers while fiddling with his fingers shyly

please this man is about to combust

he pats the boy’s head “sure bud” he said with a smile

“then can I call you dad?” he asks , eyes sparkling

“well it’s better to start early right? sure you can bud” he says, a full-blown grin plastered on his usually stoic face

Bokuto Koutaro 

the flashing and clicking of cameras occupied the whole room where the MSBY Jackals were holding their post-game press conference, they won the game by the way and Bokuto was in high spirits answering questions thrown at him by the reporters 

it was your turn to ask a question to the players and you stood up “Bokuto-san, your fans are always wondering why you’re always in high spirits, what is your secret?” 

Bokuto has never seen you before, were you a knew reporter? because damn he would’ve noticed you immediately if you were on their past press conferences, you looked like a celebrity to be quite honest 

“I’m playing volleyball, there’s no room for me to be unhappy” he simply says 

 it was you first day at your new job, quite frankly, you’re glad you quitted your old one, they forced you to stay behind the camera and write scripts for anchors when you finished a bachelor degree on broadcasting 

“Can’t blame him, I’m also happy when I do my job” you mumble to yourself as you remembered Bokuto’s answer to your question

“mama!” you looked at your son who was in the arms of your cousin Kuroo

“hey thanks for doing this for me couz” you say as they stopped right in front of you

“mama! have you seen the game?! they were so awesome! Uncle Tetsu promised me to go meet MSBY!” your son happily jolts in his Uncle’s arm

you looked at him with a motherly smile, happy that you’re son enjoyed the game 

“you coming with us?” Kuroo asked

“you two go ahead I’ll just rest for a bit” you were tired with keeping up with the game and asking questions 

the two nodded “alright, just show this to the guard and they’ll let you enter” Kuroo says, handing you a pass

you mutter a small thank you as you watch them walk away

let’s just say Gen, your son, was liked by every single member of the team, I mean, who could ever dislike such an adorable kid?

“MSBY cool! Shoyo pwaaa! Boto bam!” he says while jumping up and down, while Kuroo watched his nephew smiling

Bokuto was particularly very fond of him, was it because the kid was unbelievably adorable? or was it because the kid reminded him of a certain reporter? He’d like to think both

“Gen-kun who’s yer fav’rite player eh?” Atsumu asks the kid

the kid looked at eight full-grown man looking at him expectantly, his eyes stopped on the black-and-white haired spiker and made grabby hands towards him “BOUTO! BOUTO!” 

the members were disappointed but not surprised at all, kids tend to go to Bokuto or Hinata since they have the friendliest faces

“HEY! HEY! HEEEY!” Bokuto did not hesitate and lifted the boy up in the air, as they both giggle

“Tetsu?” your voice interrupted the commotion inside the room

Kuroo went to the door and opened it for you and the first thing you saw was your son giggling with the person stuck in your head for about twenty minutes now

“Mama!” your son screamed as soon as he saw you and asked to be put down to run towards you giving you a hug on your leg you looked down at him and patted his head gently

Kuroo cleared his throat “this is Y/N L/N my cousin, the mother of adorable the adorable Gen, she is single and ready to mingle, 2 in 1 you get an adorable son and a lovely wife, contact me for more details, the price can be discussed” 

you deadpanned at your cousin, why tf was he selling you like an auction, you shook your head 

you were hyper aware of the intensity of the owl-eyed spiker, making you blush

while Bokuto was over here thinking, damn he hit the jackpot an adorable son and an absolutely gorgeous wife? you bet he’s in and he’s gonna do everything he can to win you and make you and your son happy

“I’m sorry about him, please excuse me, my son and I needs to leave” you said politely and bowed as you take your son away

unbeknownst to you, Bokuto was in the middle of business with your cousin

“hey, how much for the details?” Bokuto whispers to his bestfriend as if they were in the middle of an illegal transaction

Kuroo looked at his friend with eyebrows raised

“I’ll pay any amount” Bokuto was very serious, which made the former Nekoma captain burts out laughing

“well, since you’re my good friend, a few drinks will do” Kuroo after his hyena laugh session

“Hey! hey! hey! thanks Kubroo!” Bokuto says in his usual cheery voice

later that night, you wondered why you were having dinner with your son, your cousin, and the former captain of Fukurodani, how he managed to get you flowers in such a short amount of time and this late at night was beyond your knowledge. But you weren’t complaining though, how could you when he looked adorable with a flushed face asking for your number after driving you and your son home.

Kenma Kozume

Kenma wasn’t fond of kids, he didn’t disliked them, he just preferred hanging out with adults who were less hyper, proceeds to hangout with Bokuto, Hinata and Kuroo

but he was a gamer and it is inevitable that some of his fans were kids, he didn’t mind it though he is thankful to each and everyone of his fans

being the twenty-eight year old youtuber/CEO that he is, he barely have time to go out and it happened very rarely, and today happened to be one of those rare occasions as he got out to get some ice cream in a very hot summer day

but he was in a for surprise, at an empty alley, he heard a ruckus

“give it back! please give it back!” 

it was never in Kenma’s personality to pry, but something was pushing him to go check out what was going on

he went inside to the dark alley and saw four boys, about eight years old, one was in the middle, his clothes all crumpled and dirty, his bag empty, his things sprawled out, scattered in front of him

“you want this thing? it’s not even the latest model, you think kodzu-” 

Kenma cleared his throat, already able to register what was happening

“ken” the bully continued

“you know kids, I don’t really like bullies” Kenma starts as he walks towards the little boy, picking up his scattered things one by one and putting it in his bag

“leave, before I report you to your school” Kenma says stoically which made one of the boys drop the game console in his hand as the three of them scramble to get out of the dark alley

the little boy picked up the game console and tried to open it, but to no avail, it was broken

Kenma went closer as he handed him his bag 

“are you okay?” he asked as he crouch down to the boy’s level, it was obvious that he was not okay, his face had little scratches and his clothes were all dirty and slightly damped 

but the little boy meekly nodded and looked down on his game console, which Kenma noticed 

“I can get you a new one” he says in attempt to cheer up the little boy, he didn’t know what was pushing him to do so, but his heart broke at the sight of him broke his heart 

“mister Kodzuken, can you please get this fixed for me instead?” for the first time, the boy looked at him with sad eyes

how could he say no to that face? he took the game console and looked at the boy

“is there a reason why you want me to fix it?” he asks

“my mom worked hard to get me that on my birthday, she didn’t buy her favorite coffee, her favorite bread, she patched up her shoes instead of buying a new one, she even lied to me that she wasn’t hungry when we ate out, I don’t wanna make her sad” the boy sadly said and wore his bag

Kenma was in awe, no wonder this boy was so polite and respectful

“alright, how but I’ll call your mother now, she is needed in this situation” Kenma says as he takes out his phone

the boy slowly dictates his mom’s phone number, and when he was done, Kenma was speechless, the number was already registered as his secretary’s number

Kenma shakily presses the call button

“sir?” your voice from the other line, never seize to make his heart skip a beat

“Y/n do you happen to have a son?” his voice was still calm

“yes, how did you know sir? i have a son he’s name is Eiji, he’s eight” you happily told him

“well, I kinda caught some kids bullying him, I think that you’re needed here” he says calmly 

“oh no, my baby, i’ll be there ASAP sir, please do send the location”

“I’ll send the location to my driver, he’ll pick you up” Kenma says and hangs up as he send a quick messege and the location to his driver

Kenma was supposed to ask you out tomorrow, that was the reason why he didn’t go to the office today, he was going to surprise you at his place because he didn’t want you, the girl he liked to the horrible people of the internet

you were too pure, too kind, you always made sure to get him something to eat despite his resistance, made sure that he doesn’t overwork himself and even going to the extent where you do some of his workloads, of course he trusted you enough to do so and you’ve been working with him for four years now

but you had a child? did you have a husband? but you’re resume said that you were single? is it a boyfriend?

“you know mister Kodzuken, mama always talks about you when I ask her about her day, I think she’s got a little crush on you” Eiji smiled softly at him

which almost made the former setter melt into a puddle, the boy was adorable, and even if his original plan was to just date you, he was more than happy to have Eiji, having a mini you around made it all even better, he wasn’t fond of kids but the little boy infront of him was an exception

“I think, I can make that happen” he smiles softly

the day after you appeared looking distressed, talked to your son’s bullies and their parents at the school’s principal office with Kenma and Eiji seating beside you, you were now inside your boss’ house, he was asking you to be his girlfriend, your son happily jumping up and down beside him

how could you say no, when four years ago, you were only dreaming of this moment? 

[delicrieux]

Prompt 56 and/or 66 for Corpse perhaps? 💕

･:* ☆ author’s note: dont let the title fool u this fic is actually just angst </3 also it takes place before quarantine i dont condone partying during the pandemic lmao. from the prompt list: 56. “You didn’t call. You didn’t text. Nothing.”

masterlist.｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

He’s worried. Hardly a surprise - he’s always worried about something. Anxiety makes him rigid. It’s hard to breathe, and for a second he thinks he has forgotten how to do that in the first place. It’s the swirling crowd, the bright lights, loud music and perfumed, hot air. Makes his head spin. It’s hard to focus. Maybe that’s why he didn’t stay for long. He never meshed well with people - they rejected him somehow, or perhaps it’s his anxiety that told him that they did. He had wandered around that fucking house for two hours, trying to find a quiet corner to just relax, yet to no avail.

One minute here, maybe two, was all it took for him to become inexplicably overwhelmed.

He came because you asked. Friends do things for other friends and he knew you were looking forward to it - it was the only thing you were talking about the past week. Picking out an outfit, fixing your hair, indulging in something stronger than lemonade or sparkling water. You had taken the time to coordinate your clothes with his. Matching color scheme, the two of you had shown up dressed to the nines. People flocked you instantly. You got swept away in the current too quickly for him to realize he was left to fend on his own. 

You found him a few times after that, dragged him to the dance floor. Your hands were pleasant to the touch, gentle and warm. Your smile was a bit sloppy, eyes twinkling, cheeks flustered from the heat and the drinks and the laughter. It made him smile, too. You had asked him where he disappeared to. Repeated the question seven times because he couldn’t hear you over the music. You leaned in in a last ditch effort to find an answer; your breath tickled the shell of his ear. He had no concrete reply to give you. Just here and there.

More searching. The minute handle seemed stuck in place for him. He couldn’t phantom how you could relish in all this noise. He heard remnants of a conversation and your bell-like laughter and found you in the kitchen. People clustered around you. You seemed engaged in a story about some ski-trip gone bad. He felt a pang in his chest, something stuck between desperation and longing, and wanted to join your side instantly and stay there and maybe wrap his arm around your shoulders or-

His mind insisted that he wasn’t pleasant company. What could he offer to a conversation involving five people?

He left to haunt the halls instead. Ten more minutes of torment, perhaps even less than that, and he went home.

His head is still pounding with a headache, even when he lays in bed, staring at his shadowed ceiling. His heart is racing in his chest, oddly reminiscent of the erratic drum of music he had heard at the party. His phone keeps buzzing with an influx of messages. He wills himself to check it.

(NAME) ♡

↪yo the fuck?? ↪ where are u?? ↪ did u go home??? i cant find u anywhere i checked the bathroom twice ↪ sum1 said they saw u leaving wtf??? ↪ you didn’t think to call?? ↪  or text??? ↪ nothing??? ↪ corpse the hell call me NOW

He doesn’t get a chance to text you back, or do anything else for that matter, because his screen flashes with a call and his finger hoovers over the Decline button. He doesn’t go through with it. A moment later your shrill voice fills his ear.

“You alive?!”

Alive? He’s not sure, so he settles with, “Not dead.”

You audibly sigh; he can’t see it, but your hand is resting on your chest, “Thank God. You seriously scared me.” You chuckle nervously, “You’re home, yeah?”

“...Yes. Sorry for freaking you out, I just...wasn’t feeling well. I didn’t want to ruin your fun.”

“...What? Didn’t want to ruin-- you ruin shit by leaving with me with some assholes. You have any idea how many stories I had to listen to today? Horrible, every single on of them. The party was a bust anyway. I’m gonna be at yours in, like, ten minutes.”

“Wait--” He sits up, “You’re...coming over?”

“That’s what I said, yeah. Unless you don’t want me to, but, uhm, I’m already in my Uber, so--”

“No, no, I don’t mind, I just--uhh--I thought you wanted...to...stay and party?”

“I wanted to party with you.” You stress, “I know you don’t exactly like crowds but when you said yes I got really excited and--and well...Yeah that’s it. I just got excited. Next time we can stay in or go to the movies or something.”

“Shit,” He mutters, “I need to clean my room.”

“Okay, I’ll leave you to it, but next time? Do me a favor and just let me know when you decide to arrivederci. Send a pigeon. Leave graffiti on the walls. Do something, you seriously scared me.”

His smile is back, and he feels as if he hadn’t smiled in years, “Promise. Thanks, (Name).”

“The hell you’re thanking me for? I’m the one that should be thanking you, since I’m inviting myself over.”

“You’re always invited.” He says, a bit breathless, but now for an entirely different reason, “You’re a...” His tongue suddenly feels too big for his mouth. Clearing his throat, he continues, steadily this time, “You’re a great friend.”

Right, friend, friends do things for other friends. You’re just being a good friend, nothing more.

“...Oh. Yeah, you’re a great friend, too.”

So why do you sound so disappointed? It’s a feeling he definitely shares.

“See you in a few.” You mutter before hanging up. 

Fuck, maybe he’s still a bit out of it, because he can’t focus again, his mind persistently trailing back to the word friend. It echoes. For the first time in his life it sounds unpleasant.

No time. He’ll figure it out when you get here. You’ll both figure it out. Or maybe you won’t. That idea halts his movements, makes him reluctant to get out of bed. No time. He doesn’t move. Only when the buzzer indicates your arrival behind his front door does he finally get up.

He feels like he’s still at that stupid party. Confused and anxious and for some reason afraid.

All of that melts promptly when he opens the door and finds you there, smiling at him in the lovely way you do. “...Hi.” You say sweetly, quietly.

His heart thuds in his chest. He dips his head in a wordless greeting and steps aside to let you in.

“I forgot to clean.” He confesses as you take off your shoes.

“Literally don’t care.” You utter, “I was thinking we could watch something on Netflix. Something funny. Or bad. Or funny bad. How does that sound?”

That sounds like not talking. Maybe that’s for the best.

“Yeah, sure.”

.

hope you liked it! xx

.

[bitsandbobsandstuff]

Ink on his heart

Summary: Here’s how Bucky Barnes got a haircut and then decided it was about damn time he controlled his own destiny - starting with a bit of ink. 

Star Spangled Bingo Square: “A thoughtful gift”

Characters: Bucky Barnes x TattooArtist!Reader

Words: 7,400 Warnings: Tattoo experiences, a couple stories about war. Some swearing. Mostly lots of feels and fluff.

A/N: This one has been in my head a long time, I love tattoos and I love the idea of Bucky getting them! While I desperately wish I could draw the designs in my head, hopefully you get enough of a word picture to imagine. And yes, it is kinda long (I know, I know), but I couldn’t stop myself! 

Want to find all my stories? Search #bitsmasterlist or try the link in my bio!

*****

Not that Bucky’s counting, but it’s been three days, 18 hours and 26 minutes and he can’t get over it.

In the damp, chilly hours before dawn, he sits on the floor of the tower living room, watching the marshmallows in his hot chocolate melt in white swirls. Now and then, he lifts his eyes to the windows, finds the faint edges of his reflection in the dark glass, and tilts his head. Tentative fingers scratch through close cropped hair and a slow smile appears. Even now, he expects long strands trailing through his fingers. Believes he can feel the phantom tug of a snarl.

It was just a haircut. What a simple, ordinary thing.  

But Bucky Barnes has never been ordinary.

That small act triggered a startling transformation. Decades of heartbreak fell away with that dark hair, revealing the shape of a man he begins to remember, and it makes him think. About small things, about change. About simple acts making an extraordinary difference.

The last haircut Bucky remembers before the beginning of his first ending, was January 1945. The memory came back one evening, of a tent in Austria, the heavy silence of snow drifting down. He remembers Steve with a dull scissors, snipping carefully along his ear, remembers the catch of a knife gently shaving his neck. It was a ritual they shared for years. When pennies were tight and life was tough, they took care of each other.

And then? Then there was after.

After the fall, after capture, after the world went pear-shaped. Hydra wasn’t concerned with the formalities of self-care, a haircut was functional. Sharp scissors biting into his scalp, rough hands tearing his hair, a harsh slap if he considered resisting. Get it done and get it done fast. The Asset has work to do.

He despised those haircuts.

But now, here he is. No more handlers and horrors. No more running. No more hiding. No more ropes dragging him somewhere he doesn’t want to be.

Wresting back his independence was exhilarating.

When Steve had finished this haircut - because Bucky still preferred a Steve Rogers special to anything - he’d dusted off Bucky’s shoulders and waited. Sam stood behind him, and Bucky rolled his eyes, expecting a barrage of sassy comments.

But Sam just ruffled the freshly cut hair and laughed.

“Not bad old man. Still not as handsome as yours truly, but hey - maybe someday.”

Such a simple thing, a haircut.

It makes him wonder what else he might do, just for himself.      

Fuzzy and disconnected, an old memory flickers to life. It buzzes in his brain, images and connections filtering through the cracks and Bucky lets out a breathless laugh.

“Yeah,” he murmurs to himself. “Okay.”

He closes his eyes and sips his hot chocolate.

*****

Steve yawns when he answers the door. Blond hair spikes in every direction and he rubs his eyes, looking for all the world like a sleepy, overgrown toddler.

“Hey, man. Everything okay?”

Bucky leans against the doorframe and chews his thumbnail while he gathers his thoughts.

“Sure, just - can I get a favor?”

Bemused, Steve ushers him inside and Bucky plops in the red bean bag chair Steve keeps tucked beside his dresser. Stretching out his legs, he waits for Steve to flop back into bed and snuggle his pillow, before he speaks.

“Remember back in ’37 when we were coming home from that shitty bar in Midtown, and we saw that sailor getting a tattoo?”

Whatever Steve expected, it wasn’t this. It takes him a moment to conjure the image, but when it comes he belts out a laugh.

“That terrified kid gettin’ a big heart on his arm? Looked ready to shit his pants?”

Bucky grins at the memory, a milk-faced kid with hair dark and shiny as an oil-slick.  

“Thought he was gonna puke on the guy.”

“Yeah, and didn’t we stand outside that window arguing while you tried to convince me we both needed one? Something about good girls liking bad boys?”  

“Hey, I stand by that statement!”

“Oh fuck off, you know exactly what your Ma would’ve said if we’d come home with tattoos.”

“Yeah,” Bucky chuckles. “God, she’d a skinned me alive.”

“Damn straight,” Steve agrees and they fall quiet, momentarily lost in shared memories of a woman with a voice of steel and a heart of gold.

Bucky leans forward and rests his chin on his knee.

“You know, all these years and I’ve never really - done anything like that,” he admits wistfully. “Gotten something done to me, I mean. Something I decided on my own. If that makes sense?”

Controlling his own destiny, choosing to do something by himself, instead of always accepting things done to him - the idea is intoxicating. He remembers the pained grimace on that sailor’s face and he relishes the prospect.

Pain you choose to feel holds a different meaning, than the torture he knows.

“S’never too late, Buck,” Steve says drowsily. “You can do anything you want.”

Bucky contemplates Steve’s words. He can do anything he wants. Heart beating fast, he takes a deep breath.

“So listen, I was thinking -”

*****

For two straight weeks, Steve works on ideas.

The floor of his bedroom is littered with sketches and concepts, crumpled sheets of paper dappled with flowing lines. Finally, after midnight on a dreary Thursday, he knocks on Bucky’s door. The moment it opens, he shoves his tattered leather portfolio in Bucky’s hands.

“So, I guess, uh - here.”

Steve crosses his arms, his toe tapping nervously, and Bucky chokes down a laugh. Some things about Steve Rogers remain comfortingly unchanged. No matter how incredible his work, all confidence seems to evaporate the moment Bucky lays eyes on anything.

—

“Give it back asshole!”

“God dammit Steve, YOU’RE the one who asked me to look!”

“Yeah well, I changed my mind, now give it back!”

—

Bucky remembers laughing while Steve chased him around their apartment. He remembers the neighbors banging on the wall, shouting at them to shut up, and he remembers the smell of their forgotten scrambled eggs burning. But most of all, he remembers that drawing - he tucked that portrait of his mother in his rucksack the day he shipped out and it stayed there, a good luck charm all through the war.

Steve had cried when Bucky told him.

Because Bucky’s opinion was always the one that mattered. Seventy years changes nothing.

Tonight, he opens the leather case, revealing three separate drawings. Outlines of black ink and a rainbow of colors paint over the curves and breaks of a human form and he pores over each page. Each drawing is utterly unique, telling the story of Bucky Barnes in metaphors and moments.    

There are no words.

His throat feels suddenly thick, cotton lodged in his windpipe.

“I can redo them,” Steve blurts out. He snatches at the paper, but Bucky spins sideways, blocking the reach.

“The fuck you will. You ain’t touching these,” his voice cracks. Blinking back the flood of emotion, he looks up. “This is - they’re perfect, Steve. Thank you.”

Steve blushes petal pink and coughs to hide his delight. He fails miserably, of course, but that’s one more reason Bucky loves the little punk.

*****

One week later, Bucky stands before a demure brick storefront on a slow Brooklyn side street, the portfolio housing Steve’s three precious drawings clutched tight in a sweaty hand. Glancing at the address in his hand, he looks up to find stenciled letters curving across a glass window.

BROOKLYN INK ESTABLISHED 1973

“Here we go,” he mutters. Before he can lose his nerve, he shoves forward.

Three steps inside the tattoo parlor, he pulls up short.

Wow.

Black iron chandeliers hang from the ceiling, splashing sparkles across plush velvet chairs, rich violet and bright turquoise. The floor is an eclectic mix of reclaimed barn board, full of knots and whorls in every shade of brown. Artwork in black and white frames line the brick wall, tattoo designs, letters and fonts, photos of finished work. The entire space overflows with warmth, and Bucky feels instantly at ease.  

The front desk is empty, but he hears someone rattling around back, so he takes a seat. Piled high on an end table are bundles of photo albums, full of work; he sinks into the cushions and starts flipping through.  

Immersed in the images, he misses the sound of quiet footsteps.

“Are you James?”

The voice startles him and in one swift move, he manages to throw the album on the floor and tumble from the chair. Pages of photographs spill everywhere and he crawls over, hastily scooping them up and babbling one inappropriate apology after another.

“Shit! Sorry, I’m sorry! Shit, I mean I’m sorry for saying shit. Fuck, I didn’t - oh my god, I’m sorry, I’m not usually so - ”

Soft laughter greets him and he looks up in panic, a more refined apology on his lips, but the words evaporate.

Crouching beside him, graceful hands gather up the mess of photos, slipping them back into the album. Dropping it carelessly on the end table, she bounces back to her feet and offers him a hand.

“No worries,” she says with a breathtaking smile. “I shouldn’t have startled you.”

Although he has no need for the support, Bucky reaches mutely for her outstretched fingers because he can’t help but take them. When she tugs, he allows her to pull him up.  

“I’m, um - Bucky. Please, call me Bucky.”

“Hello Bucky,” she says. She shares her name and he repeats it slowly. Clearing his throat, he takes a deep breath.

“Thanks for meeting me so late, I know it’s after hours.”

“Sure,” she says lightly. “So, what can I do for you?”

This is the tricky part.

“On the website, it mentioned you had experience with - with tattooing around scars,” he begins carefully. “Scar tissue I mean. Is that right?”

With his question, her expressions turns serious. She observes him for a long moment.

“Yes, I do. Can I ask how long you served?” she asks delicately and Bucky acknowledges her perception with a short nod. He toys with the zipper on Steve’s portfolio, debating his response.

“Seemed like forever,” he finally says, and it’s the most honest answer he has.

Nodding silently, she motions him behind the counter.

“Come on back, let’s see what you had in mind.”

Hugging the pictures to his chest, Bucky follows, eyes saucer wide as they weave through the work area to her space. The shop smells like the woodsy smoke from the candles sitting along her table, mixed with ink and latex and an odd sterile tang. He inhales and discovers he likes it, the strange scent lighting him up.  

Dropping to her stool, she gestures for him to have a seat. Bucky sits gingerly, wide eyes still staring. When she catches his eye, he flushes.

“Sorry. First time I’ve been in a shop.”

“That’s okay, there’s lots to see,” she says easily. Looking at the portfolio still clutched against his chest, she grins. “Did you have some ideas already?”

He thrusts the portfolio at her. Propping it on her knees, she flips it open and he beams when he hears her astonished gasp.

“I like the colors there, if you think they’re possible?”

“Sure, might take some extra time, but I can do it,” she murmurs, pinching her lip. Turning the page sideways, she examines every minute detail, shaking her head in disbelief. “This is exquisite.”  

“I’ll tell my artist. He’s a real diva sometimes.”

“I’d say he’s earned that right,” she laughs, tracing the paper with a light finger. She flips to the second picture and tilts her head. “The grays and silvers might look nice with midnight blue for contrast?”

Bucky nods eagerly. “Yeah, I love that idea.”

She looks again, examining the intricate design.

“Can you tell me about your pain tolerance? The designs are beautiful, but they’re complex. Each will take multiple sessions to finish.”

Bucky drops his eyes. He heaves a sigh at the obligatory question.

“It’s high,” he mutters. “Very - high.”

Silence follows his admission. When he dares to look up again, he feels a twinge in his chest at the compassion he finds. He offers a rueful smile and she slowly returns it.

“Would you like to come after hours? It can get noisy during the day, if you prefer things quieter. Most soldiers like that better.”

There is a sweep of relief at her casual acknowledgement. He huffs out a shaky breath.

“That would be great. If you don’t mind, I mean.”

“Not at all. I’m a night owl anyway.”

“Yeah,” Bucky says quietly. “Me too.”

She looks back to the portfolio, carefully shuffling the pages.

The third picture appears.

And Bucky sees it, that precise moment when realization sinks in. When she realizes exactly who is sitting in her chair tonight. There is no doubt the drawing gives that fact away. Heart pounding, he flinches, steeling himself for the inevitable.

But nothing happens.

She meets his nervous gaze head on and yet - that gentle smile remains.

“Bucky,” she repeats and this time she understands. “Oh. It’s nice to meet you, Bucky Barnes. Come back tomorrow night, 9pm. Don’t be late.”

He leaves the tattoo shop feeling lighter than he has in years.

*****

TATTOO 1: FOREARM

“Show me a man with a tattoo and I’ll show you a man with an interesting past.” - Jack London

*****

Perpetually early for everything, Bucky arrives at 8:45pm the next night.

The bell over the door tinkles when he enters, and she looks up from the front desk and waves. His stomach unexpectedly leaps and he thinks it must be nerves.

“Hey, Bucky,” her voice is soft.

“Evening,” he says shyly.  

“You ready to do this?”

“Could hardly sleep last night,” he confesses with a grin.

Sliding timidly into her black leather chair, he watches her arrange tools on a shiny silver tray. An arm rest is attached to his right side, and he dries his sweaty palm on his jeans before easing his arm onto the cushion, palm up. When she drops onto her stool at his side, he offers a weak smile.  

“You got the email I sent with all the information, right? Did you have any questions?”

He scrunches his nose, recalling the long, detailed summary she shared. For each of the three tattoos he requested, she gave him a detailed analysis of the process for creating each design; broke down how long each session would take; gave explicit instructions on the healing and care process; confirmed each individual color and how it would be applied; clarified the tools that would be used, including their brand names and how each one worked; she even provided floor plans of her shop - outlining entries and exits and bathrooms and locations of fire extinguishers.

It was a novel of information that must’ve taken her hours, and he was inexplicably grateful for the time she spent just to make him comfortable.

“No questions, I just, uh - thanks. For putting all that together. It was helpful to have all the information. Helps me keep my head on straight.”

“Of course,” she says. “So this first design should take probably 5-6 hours. Since you’re new, we’ll start with short blocks and see how it goes.”

Bucky gives a jerky nod and she pauses, pressing her fingertips against the smooth skin of his forearm.

“Here are the rules. You’re in charge, okay? We can go as fast or as slow as you need. This is not a race, and I have nowhere to be but here. Any time you want to stop, you say the word and I stop. We can take a breather, grab a cup of coffee and start again - or we can call it a night. This is your experience, Bucky. You’re in control. Understand?”

There is a fierce surge of gratitude at her words. Gratitude for her kindness, for her acceptance. Gratitude for her.

“Got it,” he whispers.

And with that, they begin.

Bucky follows each step, while she measures his arm, while she considers the contours and angles of his muscle, while she cleans and preps his skin. When she finally applies a stencil, his heart is hammering so hard his teeth are chattering.

The low buzz of the tattoo machine fills his ears with a click.

When the needles touch his skin, sweat instantly beads his neck. Adrenaline drenches his tongue and for one wild moment, Bucky panics. Wonders if this was a terrible idea, because what idiot asks for pain, seriously Barnes, what the hell is wrong with you, why’re you so stupid all the -

And then - oh.

Huh.

Interesting.

Wide-eyed, Bucky follows her careful strokes, black lines appearing on his skin.

It does hurt - sort of. Obviously nothing he can’t handle; in the grand scheme of his life, this would register as a minor inconvenience, but there is a pinch.

But that spark of pain vanishes, when the raw symbolism behind Steve’s design hits him full force.

Holy shit.

How many times through the decades did Bucky Barnes die? And how many times did he rise, born again from the frozen ash of oblivion? It was simply what the Soldier did. But it was a shadow-life, nothing more. Bucky never knew how close he was to giving up, until that day above the Potomac, Steve’s bloody face beneath his furious fists. He was so far gone, so lost and forgotten, until those memories cracked the Soldier’s fierce veneer.

And suddenly he was Bucky again. Awake and alive. For the first time in 70 years he felt fire in his soul. For the first time in 70 years he could breathe.

Tears inexplicably fill his eyes.    

“All okay?”

Through a tunnel, Bucky hears her voice. Hypnotized by the metaphor inking itself into his skin, his head feels waterlogged when blinks up at her.

“Sorry?”

She scans his face, her thumb rubbing the pulse thrumming at his wrist.

“Everything okay?” She asks again and Bucky feels a potent rush of euphoria.

“Yes,” he says slowly. The excitement bubbles over and he lets out an ecstatic laugh. “Yes! This is incredible. This is - fucking hell, this is amazing.”

Chuckling to herself, she bends back to her task.

“So I guess we’ll keep going?”

“Yeah,” he laughs. “Yeah, let’s keep going.”

Two hours later, the outline of the Phoenix is inked into his skin, crisp black lines like fresh paint. Long tail feathers are curled around his wrist, the lush feathered body splashed over his forearm, her wings spread open and curving around his arm, her head reaching toward the sky.

Born from ash. Alive again.

Bucky hates to cover it up, but she insists.

“Follow the cleaning instructions and it should be fine. We need to wait between the sessions, give you time to heal.”

At that comment, he fidgets.

“Actually, I heal pretty - fast.”

“I assumed you might. Usually I say 2-3 weeks between sessions, so how about you come back in 1 week and we can see. Let’s just make sure. Does that work?”

Bucky glances at the crisp white bandage on his arm.

“Okay, that works,” he says.

She squeezes his hand and he meets her eyes.

“You did great,” she tells him.

Bucky smiles in return. And he doesn’t stop for the next six days.

*****

When he walks into the shop for his next session, he carries a large coffee for himself and an extra large iced peach green tea for her. When he gets to the front desk, he thrusts the cup at her.  

“Evening. Um, here. Saw you had one last time, so - anyway.”

“Bucky, thank you. I’ve been craving one all day.” She gives the straw an experimental bite, before taking a long drink and for some reason, the silly quirk makes his heart bounce.

After a quick check on how he’s healed, she declares him perfect and they get started, settling into a comfortable silence. After an hour of buzzing, Bucky clears his throat.

“Is it okay to talk while you work?”

“It is,” she affirms, dabbing at the ink. Glancing up, she sees hesitant blue eyes. “I’m good at listening too. Sometimes it’s nice just to listen.”  

Bucky figures that’s a fair statement. He fiddles with a stray thread on his shirt.

“Do you read much?” He asks hopefully, picturing the teetering stack of books beside his bed. She perks at the question.

“I love to read. Have a pile of books on my nightstand waiting for me to find time. What about you? Are you reading anything good now? Any favorites I should know?”

Bucky swallows the happy surprise. If he could, he’d be content to spend the rest of his years with a comfortable chair, a cup of coffee, and an unending supply of stories. He could talk about books for days, he just normally keeps quiet, because most people aren’t interested in that facet of Bucky Barnes.

So he begins to talk.

He tells her how Natasha lent him all her Russian copies of Pushkin and Tolstoy and Dostoevsky, insisting that reading in the original language was infinitely better. He describes how he found a copy of Rumi’s poetry at a yard sale, and what an incredible treasure it was. He flusters recounting how much he cried reading ‘A Fault in our Stars’ and says he was scared shitless to even see a clown for a full year after reading Stephen King.    

He talks and talks and talks, and when he finally stops to breathe, she glances up.

“It’s nice to hear a man who’s so well read,” she says and Bucky preens at the compliment. “Do you have an all time favorite? Something you never get tired of?”

A favorite? No question.

“Yeah, I do. Something I read during the war and kinda fell in love. It’s about here, I guess. About Brooklyn.”

At the description, her mouth quirks, but she keeps working.

“Did you ever think about a book quote for a tattoo?”

Now there’s an idea. He makes a mental note to think of a quote he could add as another tattoo. Or maybe another couple tattoos. Hell, one session in and he’s already addicted.  

The comment tumbles free before he realizes he’s spoken out loud. He blushes at her laughter.

“It can be addicting,” she agrees. Bucky understands completely, seeing the vibrant crimson ink soak into his skin, painting the bird’s feathers. And then she pauses, meeting his eyes with a peculiar expression. “The right words can make you feel invincible.”

Setting the tattoo machine down, she rolls her chair back a bit and sits up straight. Lifting the hem of her shirt, Bucky sees a line of gold text inked below her ribs, his eyes following the flowing cursive.

“She was all of these things and of something more,” he reads aloud.

“‘A Tree Grows in Brooklyn’ is my favorite book too,” she says quietly. There is a long, unbroken moment where they stare into each others eyes. He should say something, he thinks. Something intelligent or witty or anything, but instead he just thinks about the fact that he found a woman in Brooklyn to permanently carve pictures into his skin and she has the same favorite book as him.

Bucky always was a sucker for fate.

“That’s - that’s really - I love that,” he finally says instead.

*****

A week later, Bucky arrives with a bundle of folders and an exasperated expression.

“This is really annoying, but do you mind if I finish some reports while you work? Got behind, someone’s gonna have my ass.” Bucky raises the papers apologetically.

“No problem,” she says easily. “Let’s keep your ass safe.”

Bending back to her task, Bucky snorts a laugh. They’re just a handful of mission reports, normally he types them soon as he returns, but lately he’s been slacking, because lately he has other things he finds more interesting.

Like the scene in front of him.

Together they work, each with their own pen. Bucky writes, she colors, and the clock on the wall ticks along. After awhile, she takes a break to stretch. Rolling her shoulders, she observes him.

“Are you left-handed?” she asks curiously and it takes Bucky a moment to think.

“Oh. Uh, not really,” he says. “But I can switch. Never been a problem.”

At the confession, she raises her eyebrows.

“That’s impressive. I wish I had a talent like that.”

He ducks his head at the praise. And he keeps writing, of course. Maybe adds a bit more flair. After all, the old Bucky Barnes did like to swagger.    

*****

“Well, I think that’s it.”

It takes a beat before Bucky understands what she means. Confused, he peers up at her with a dopey expression and she gestures at his arm.

He feels his heart lurch.

It flames to life along his arm, painted in vibrant ruby red and rich crimson and deep plum, highlights edged in shining gold. Mesmerized, Bucky stares down at the lines of ink and he flexes, the tendons of his arm shifting, and the bird moves. For one wild moment, he believes if he stays still, it could leap from his skin and take flight.  

It leaves him breathless.

“God, this is better - fuck, it’s so much better - than I ever imagined. How did you - wow. I don’t know how you did it, but - thank you. Thank you so much.”

Unanticipated emotion makes his voice tremble. Because this is the first time Bucky Barnes chose something permanent for himself. Serums and metal arms and bullets and blades, those were always forced upon him, his pleading refusals met with violence and sneering indifference.

But this?

This.

This.

This is all his.

*****

TATTOO 2: BACK

“Wear your heart on your sleeve in this life.” - Sylvia Plath

*****

“So, uh, how exactly does this work?”

Standing beside the leather chair while she organizes her inks, Bucky wrinkles his nose. She looks up and motions for him to turn, straddling the chair with his chest pressed against the back.

“Are you comfortable completely removing your shirt? Or would you prefer to leave it part way on? I’ll just need it out of the way for the right side of your back.”

Bucky grimaces. Eventually she’s going to see his shoulder - he knows that - but he’s not in the mood to rip that band-aid off yet.  

“Uh - let’s do part of the way if that’s okay?”

“That’s okay,” she confirms and he awkwardly tugs his right arm free, baring the broad expanse of his back. Tucking his arms in front of him, he slings a leg over the chair and rests his chin carefully on the headrest.

He says nothing, simply stays still while she absorbs the sight. Littered up and down his back are a litany of scars, puckers from the occasional bullet, thin lines from errant blades, and a few other marks he prefers not to define. His voice is muffled when he warily asks.

“Are you able to - work with it?“    

“Absolutely,” she answers firmly and Bucky warms at the decisiveness in her tone. Her confidence makes him feel infinitely more positive.

This is the largest of his three tattoos, stretching from the tip of his shoulder blade and flowing down to his waist. It will also take the longest, but Bucky assures her he has no issue sitting perfectly still for hours.

It’ll be worth it. He can’t wait to show Sam - he’ll get a kick out of this one.

Once she applies the stencil over his skin, she goes to work, dropping into that headspace of deep focus. She works so quietly for so long, he falls into a trance, lulled by the melodic buzz.

When she speaks, it startles him.

“What made you decide you wanted a tattoo?”

He lays his cheek along the edge of the chair so he can see her from the corner of his eye when he answers.

“S’random, but back in ’37, me and Steve were out and I remember walking by this old tattoo shop over in Midtown. They had one of those big glass windows with the chair in front, so people could stand and watch. Anyway, we walk by and there was this kid sitting in the chair, and no fuckin’ joke, he was getting a big heart on his arm with ‘MOM’ written in the middle.”

“Ah yes, the ever popular ‘mom’ tribute. I’ve done a few of those,” she says and Bucky grins.

“Well anyway, I always kinda wanted something, you know? Thought about getting one before I shipped out, but I didn’t, and then it was - “ he pauses for a moment, but she encourages him with a questioning hmmm? and Bucky bravely pushes forward. “I had lots of years where I didn’t get to make my own decisions. And there was so much - bad shit that happened to me. Anyway, I guess I thought if someone’s gonna do something to me, I wanted it to be on my own terms. You know?”

“Yeah,” she murmurs. “I think that makes perfect sense.”

Bucky sits quietly, contemplating. The question has been rattling around his brain for awhile and it spills free before he can stop himself. 

“The whole process, it feels sort of  - intimate, doesn’t it?”

He flushes at the insinuation, but intimate is the best way to describe it, he thinks, this practice of someone permanently carving their art into your skin.

“It is intimate,” she says softly, leaning closer. “It’s almost like you’re - leaving a piece of your soul under someone’s skin? I don’t know if that makes sense, but that’s what it’s always felt like.”

Bucky nods, watching her capable, artistic, beautiful hands as they move, slowly transferring bits and pieces of herself to him.

What a gift. He holds on tight.

*****

It was bound to happen at one of the sessions.

It’s been dark and rainy for days, buckets dumped from the heavens, the perpetual grumble of thunder always near. When Bucky comes through the front door, he feels like a wet dog. He shakes out his jacket, stomps his boots. He feels off base tonight, the result of bad sleep, bad dreams, and one particularly bad mission. He’s frustrated with himself for bringing it with him, thinks maybe he should’ve cancelled, but the thought of skipping his session - both the ink and her - was too depressing.

So instead of holing up in his room and moping under the covers, he braved the storm.

The one inside and out.

Searching for calm, he licks chapped lips.

“Hey,” he says, cringing when his voice cracks.

“Hey, Buck,” she turns cheerfully, but when she sees him squinting at her through the droplets cascading down his face, his shoulders hunched and tense, she stops. Looks him up and down and her expression softens. Beckoning him back, she digs up a towel and a dry t-shirt with ‘BROOKLYN INK’ stamped across the front, ushering him to the bathroom.

“Take all the time you need. No rush.”

Bucky mumbles his thanks and shuts the door. Gripping the sink, he glares at the mirror, at the smudge of dark beneath his eyes, at the clench of his jaw. Closing his eyes, he breathes slow and deep.

“You’re okay. You’re okay.”

He repeats the mantra, determined to settle. He’s been eager for this session all week, he’s sure as hell not ruining it because he can’t get his idiot brain to stop spinning.

When he finally emerges, he finds her arranging her work space. Halting in front of her, he keeps trembling hands stuffed in his pockets, eyes downcast.

“I’m afraid I’m poor company tonight,” he admits quietly.

“That’s okay. We can reschedule, Bucky,” she says softly and Bucky feels the disconcerting sting of tears. He rubs the heel of his hand against watery eyes.  

“If it’s okay, I’d - I’d rather go ahead. Been looking forward to seeing you - uh, seeing you work, all week. It was just - “ he pauses and fights the temptation to spill his guts. No, he snarls internally, she doesn’t need to hear all your shit.

He clamps his mouth shut and shrugs instead.

She says nothing, but when she gives his hand a comforting squeeze, Bucky feels that familiar surge of gratitude. She guides him carefully toward the chair and he slumps into the seat, automatically tugging up his new shirt.  

“Just close your eyes and breath. You’re okay.”

Bucky rests his chin on the edge of the chair. Troubled eyes flutter shut, and the comforting buzz of the tattoo machine fills his ears, muting the sound of the storm raging outside. When he feels the prick of the needles, he lets out a weary breath. And when he feels the easy pressure of her fingers, he begins to relax.

For hours, she works. Firm strokes, painting the story across his skin.

The dark night begins to fade before she finally sets her tools aside. When he climbs to his feet, she pulls him into a gentle hug.    

Bucky sinks into her arms.

That morning, the sun begins to shine.

*****

Bucky’s been sitting for a couple hours now, eyeing the brick wall behind the chair. A question pops into his head and he feels like a jerk for not asking sooner.

“Hey - all these hours together, and I never asked you - what made you want to draw on people for a living?”

She hums at the question, and he can hear the happiness in her reply.

“Well, I always wanted to be an artist. For my eleventh birthday, my best friend Mike gave me this set of gel pens, there were a million colors. When I told him I wanted to be a tattoo artist, he let me draw pictures all over him for practice. He insisted on being the first person I inked, once I got my license. Would always tell people he was the ‘original canvas’ for my brilliance.”

When she laughs, Bucky chuckles with her; it reminds him of Steve.

“Sounds like a good man,” he says.

“Yeah, he is - he was,” she quietly corrects herself. “He was an EOD specialist in Afghanistan. Right before he left for his last tour, I drew up plans for the arm sleeve he always wanted; he planned to get it when he finished. A month later, he was in a convoy that was moving through the Gereshk Valley in the Helmand Province, when an IED hit his vehicle. He didn’t make it home.”

The story hits home like a kick in the face.

Too many soldiers, too many lives. Bucky reaches back to still her hand. He slowly turns to face her, gently tugging the tattoo machine free and setting it aside. Wordlessly, he offers his hand and she accepts it gratefully, weaving her fingers through his. It takes a few attempts before she speaks again.  

“It took me a long time to get through that. One day I met a friend working down at the VA, and I heard a vet talking about the scars on his legs. He sounded so - sad about them, you know? Kept saying he didn’t recognize himself anymore. And I just stood there thinking, maybe I couldn’t help Mike, but I could still do something.” Staring resolutely down, she considers her fingers still entangled with Bucky’s. “I did some research and took some classes and - learned how to tattoo on scar tissue.”

Bucky gazes at her. He feels a sweep of pride at the way she turned her tragedy into something beautiful.

“I’m so sorry that happened,” he says and she finally looks up, meeting blue eyes bright with compassion. “But you should know, what you’re doing for people, it’s incredible. And if you don’t mind me saying, I think he’d be real god damn proud of you.”

A tear slips down her cheek and she ducks her head, her whisper so low he nearly misses it.

“Thank you Bucky.”

*****

Hours later, Bucky hears a clatter of tools and her huff of relief.

“All done.”

Wiping her hands, she pops excitedly up from the stool and Bucky pushes back from the chair to follow. Without a thought, she grabs his metal hand, tugging him impatiently over to a set of floor length mirrors along the wall. Bucky grips tight and obediently follows, his pulse racing. When she positions him at the mirror, she adjusts the panels so he can see himself from all angles.

“There, have a look.”

Along his spine, the single metal wing bursts free, so intensely realistic, Bucky’s jaw drops. It arches gracefully up, curving over his shoulder blade and sweeping down his back, razor sharp feathers tickling his rib cage before billowing out above his waist. Made from silvers and grays and shaded hints of midnight blue, it glows in the light. When Bucky reaches toward the sky, the muscles shift beneath the ink and it creates the strangest sensation of feathers unfolding.  

All the scars littering his back, a flesh and bone patchwork of memories left by vicious handlers and fights too close for comfort, have disappeared. Blending into the steel of his new wing, their only purpose is to strengthen the image.

After all this time, he’s come to terms with the metal arm so unwillingly gifted all those years ago. But it’s remained a relic of a past life, something heavy, to drag him down.

But now, he rolls his shoulder back and his new metal wing lifts him higher than he’s felt in a long, long time.

*****

TATTOO 3: SHOULDER

“I can bear any pain as long as it has meaning.” - Haruki Murakami

*****

“So our last session.”

“Our last session,” he murmurs.

Bucky thinks for a moment that she seems glum, but maybe that’s wishful thinking.

“This is a tough one,” she warns, “but I think we can do it in one session. I won’t try and cover them up, it won’t work. The best solution is to incorporate your scars into the design. Make sense?”

Bucky pictures the pattern Steve drew, bright green leaves and vines tracing the seam of his arm, melding with the thick ribbons of raised tissue. It doesn’t matter, but he timidly asks anyway.

“Will it hurt?”

“No,” she says gently. Pressing her hand to his galloping heart, she shakes her head. “It won’t hurt much there, but you need to tell me if it hurts here. You need to tell me if I should stop. Remember, you’re in charge, okay?”

“Okay,” he whispers.

Steeling himself, he whips off his shirt, balling it up in nervous hands. The cool air blowing through the shop is a relief for his overheated body.

“Do you mind if I feel the skin here? So I can make sure I approach it right?”

“Yeah, ‘course,” Bucky mumbles. Staring at his hands, he waits.

Leaning close, her fingers brush over him, feeling the lines and ridges, assessing the canvas. For ten minutes, she tests his skin, lightly pushing and pressing, observing the scars and bumps where metal meets man.  

“Does it still hurt?”

She doesn’t want to ask, but needs to know what she’s working with. With a grim smile, he shrugs.

“Not really. Aches sometimes, but doesn’t hurt. Can’t feel much there besides some pressure.”

Nodding, she pinches her lip. “I was thinking last night, um - would you want to add anything else into the design? Nothing big, but a few flowers? Some daisies maybe?”

“Sure, I’d like that. Any reason for daisies?” Bucky asks curiously.

Pulling out a few additional bottles of ink, she absently touches the necklace at her throat, and Bucky sees a silver daisy spinning.

“Daisies represent new beginnings. Thought it might be a nice way to end, if you like?”

Does he like it? The idea of having this small thing in common?

Hell yes he likes it.

Maybe - maybe he even more than likes it?

“Yeah. That sounds perfect,” he says softly. He swallows hard and she nods encouragingly.

“Okay. Remember - stop me if you need a break.”

This one, Bucky knows will be hard. It was the reason he left it to the end - the mental fortitude required here is much different.

As she begins, he contemplates the pink furrows gouged into his skin. The memory of how they got there flashes before him, a sick image of shredded skin raked bloody beneath his blunt fingernails. Faint screams of a past life echo in his ears, the smokey cry of his own voice desperate for relief from the pain.

Cold sweat slides down his face and he slams his eyes shut, but that seems to make it worse. The images glow technicolor bright, and he grunts a frustrated breath.

And then, through the thin latex of her glove, he feels her cool hand press against his pounding heart. Cracking an eye open, he finds her calm face and he focuses on her, until his breathing begins to ease. Blinking rapidly, he drinks in the curve of her nose, the shape of her mouth, the beauty of her eyes.

His heart stutters, stunning him into a different kind of breathless.

“Okay?”

“Yeah,” he murmurs, wide eyes locked on hers. “Yeah, I’m okay. You can keep going.”

When she bends back to her task, Bucky melts. It occurs to him, that perhaps if she might let him, he could be content watching her forever.

But for tonight, this forever lasts only a few hours before she’s done.

And there it is.

Shades of green line his shoulder, the vines curling and winding around his scars, blending them seamlessly into the foliage covering his skin. Spidering vines trail across his chest, and it seems incompatible in a way, something alive bursting from the stark metal, but the leaves look so real, he swears they flutter with each breath he takes. Strewn throughout the greenery, small splotches of yellow and white reveal her daisies and he sucks in a breath.

For the first time in his life, Bucky stares at his scars and a foreign word comes to mind, one he never, ever thought to use.

“Beautiful,” he breathes. “They’re beautiful.”

*****

And so, after 3 months and 30 hours together, they were done.

Hands in his pockets, Bucky gazes at her. Ink on her hands, ink on his heart. It hits him then, this is it. They shuffle, making small talk, neither ready to say goodbye.

“Promise you’ll come back if you decide on anything else. Tattoos, piercings, anything,” she teases and Bucky laughs.

“Told you, I might be a little addicted,” he admits, knowing full well he means to tattoos and to her. “Soon as I can think of a reason, I’ll be back.”

“I hope so,” she says. There is a brief moment where she seems to gather her courage and then she leans in to press a soft kiss to his cheek. “You’re a work of art, Bucky, but - you were before any of this. Remember that.”

Dazed, Bucky touches his cheek.

Indelible and perfect, the tattoo of her lips inks itself straight onto his heart.

*****

When she arrives at the shop the next day, there is a new sight sitting on the front desk.

Daisies, their white petals and yellow faces as fresh as the afternoon sunshine filtering through the window. Bemused, she looks around the bustling shop and spies the card propped beside the overflowing vase, her name scrawled across the front.

-

“When I got home, I stood in front of the mirror for hours, staring at your artwork. Every time I told myself to go to sleep, I found something new I loved. The tail feathers on my Phoenix or the petals of your daisies. What you’ve given me is more than I ever hoped - I can never thank you enough.

But anyway, I remembered what you said - how this kind of art is like leaving a piece of your soul under someone’s skin.

Well, I won’t lie - you must have done, because I miss you already.

So at the risk of being forward (although I did break into your shop and leave this, so maybe this won’t seem that forward), would you have dinner with me?  

I think there’s another new beginning waiting out there, if you’d like to find it with me.  

Yours,

Bucky”

-

At the bottom of the note, a phone number is printed.

Brushing her fingers over the delicate white petals, she pictures him, that dark haired man with eyes like blue ink, so heartbreakingly beautiful inside and out. She feels the unconscious pull of her heart, telling her all she needs to know.

A new beginning.

She says yes.

*****

[annoyingstupidmiracle]

L.A. Confidential Part 2-l.r.h

CONTAINS SMUT!

Word Count: 1734

I hope you guys enjoy Part 2!

You angled your camera in order to get a better shot of the boys as they absolutely killed their show for the night. They had a gig at some big theater in southern California, and it was sold out. Luke had begged you to come to the show, and you couldn’t ever say no to him. It had been nearly two weeks since the last late night rendezvous between you and Luke, and the tension was almost unbearable. 

Chloe had been up his ass lately, and you’re assuming it was because of the recent article posted about her and a up and coming rapper who was starting to make it big. His publicity was skyrocketing since he had his first number one hit, and hanging out with a new possible love interest was a new spike in attention. You were one of the first to know about it considering you worked in the media most of the time. You had first hand ties with publishers who would often use your pictures for their articles.

His girlfriend was backstage watching from their dressing room instead of out in the crowd as she should be. You cheered as they finished the song ‘Valentine,’ and Luke ended it with beautiful vocals. His sparkling blue eyes searched the front row and finally found you, relief filling his nerves. The lights went dim in the building, and you put it upon yourself to find your way to the backstage door. Once finding the door handle, you let yourself in and saw Chloe sitting on the couch texting on her phone. Probably talking to her new boyfriend. Instead of paying attention to her, you looked over at the guys and grinned. 

“You guys did awesome!”

“Did you get any good pictures of me? I need to set them up on my tinder.” Calum said while reaching out towards your camera. You tugged it away from him and giggled. 

“Fuck off, both you and your tinder.” That comment caused the other three to laugh before walking towards you. 

“You see the article?” Ashton mumbled in your ear before glancing at Luke. You nodded discreetly and narrowed your eyes towards the blonde still sitting on her phone. 

“Do you believe them?”

“Do you?” He questions back. Well that wasn’t very promising.

“So, how about that afterparty?” Calum buts in. Mikey shrugs his shoulder and looks to Luke.

“I’m down, are you down?” Luke shook his head yes, but not before he took his last glance at Chloe.

“Yeah, for sure.” 

At this, Chloe’s head perks up. “Who said anything about an afterparty? We had that party at my friend’s house tonight.”

You rolled your eyes, not able to bear the sound of her voice. “Chlo, this is my band. I’d pick the afterparty over hers any day.” Chloe sighed at his reply before getting up off the couch and stalked over to him. Her arms rested over his shoulders while staring into his eyes. 

“See you tomorrow?”

“Yeah, I’ll see you tomorrow.” He says while she leans forward, her lips puckered to kiss his lips. Instead, Luke turns his head to the side causing her lips to peck his cheek. “Alright, you guys ready?” He asked, looking to you.

You nodded. “Of course.”

*

Bodies touched everywhere you looked, it was hot and sweaty in the club. You couldn’t find anybody that you knew anywhere. Your breath caught in your throat as you frantically searched through groups of people in hopes that you’d find one of the boys. Panic sets in once you feel a pair of arms wrap around your waist. Quickly turning around, you notice it’s a random guy. Backing away from him, your back hits a hard body. Their arms reach out to yours to turn you around, and relief automatically rushed through you. Luke stood there with a look that could kill, staring right at the man who touched you. The man raised his hands up in defense before walking away. Luke brought you under his arm and walked towards the exit.

“We’re leaving?” You asked. He stopped before he opened the door. “It’s only been forty-five minutes.”

Guiding you outside, there was a taxi that waited for you to crawl in. Bending down to your ear, he mumbled, “I need to get you alone.” And that was all it took to get you in the back of the taxi as it drove through the city towards his hotel on the outskirts of it all. His hand rested on your inner thigh, gently caressing his fingers along the available skin showing due to the short length of your dress. The city lights cascaded through the window, dimly lighting the features on his face. It almost looked like he wanted to cry, and Luke never cried. 

Naturally, your hand reached up to cup his cheek in your hand, turning his head to look at you. “What’s wrong?” He shook his head, waiting on the taxi to slow to a stop in front of his hotel. His hand reached out to grab yours and dragged you to the elevator inside the building. “Lu-”

“You knew about the articles? And the photos?” He asked as soon as you were alone in the elevator. You stared silently at the floor. “(Y/n).”

“Yes.” You said quietly. Without a warning, he paused the elevator from going any farther by pressing the red button. Leaning against the wall, he ran his hands through his hair and tugged at the ends. A bitter laugh falling from his lips. 

“I can’t fucking believe this,” he says, thoughts corralling his brain. “I can’t believe you.”

“Me?” You question with shock. “Why should I tell you anything if all you’re going to do is stay with her?!” Your voice became louder than it has before, surprising him. 

“(Y/n)-”

“No, don’t. I-I do everything for you! But management always comes first, you know, when are you gonna get rid of that piece of shit publicist you got yourself, huh? That’s who’s making your life a living-” Before you could finish, his hands grabbed the sides of your face and pressed his lips to yours. Your first reaction should’ve been to push him away, but you deepened the kiss anyways. He swiftly pushed you against the other side of the elevator, the cold wall sending shivers up your spine. 

“Luke..” You mumbled next to his cheek as his lips traveled down your neck, gently nipping at your skin. “W-We can’t-”

“I just need you right now.” He begged, his voice strangled from the emotions he was feeling earlier. Giving in, you reached down to undo his belt buckle and unbuttoned his suit pants. His hand went down and helped you by sliding his pants down just enough to reveal his boxers. Once he did that, your dress was then hiked up around your waist and panties were pushed to the side.

His hand reached behind your right thigh and tugged it up so that he could keep the crease of your knee in the crease of his arm. You stared between the two of you as he pulled his member out of his boxers and lined up with your entrance. After a few agonizing seconds, he finally entered you, pressing your body further against the wall. A whimper escaped your lips at the feel of him inside you, but a hand slapped over your mouth. 

“People can hear you outside the elevator, doll.” You nodded, attempting to stay quiet as he reached down to grab your other leg, hoisting you up against the wall. He slammed into you constantly, skin slapping against your own. It was hard to stay quiet when all you wanted to do was scream out with pleasure. “Trust me, once I get you in the hotel room, you can scream all you want.”

“Oh god, I-” You reached forward, pulling his face to yours in a heated kiss in order to muffle the sounds of pleasure emitting from you as you came around him. Luke chuckled against your lips, him coming shortly after. 

He gently placed your feet back on the ground, steadying your wobbly form. You yanked your dress back down your legs. Luke buckled his pants back up and smoothed out his shirt and looked at you. Noticing stray hairs sticking out, he placed them back behind your ears and admired how your lips slowly tilted up in a smile as he did so. Leaning over, he pressed the button again and waited for the door to open back up to go to the hotel room.

*

Your naked forms laid tangled in the sheets nearing three in the morning, both huffing from the acts of just moments ago. Not only did you do it in the elevator, but you went back to the room and did it not once, not twice, but three more times before calling it quits for the night. Your head rested on his bare chest as is heaved up and down, your finger tracing lines along his stomach. Your leg was draped over his as you laid there, attempting not to fall asleep.

A buzz from a phone laying on the bedside table broke you two from your haze. Luke reached over and grabbed the phone that was lit up, which happened to be his. A low groan escaped his lips and he scrolled through the few texts he received from no one other than Chloe herself. Apparently, he had sent her a message about the articles he saw earlier that night and she was trying to apologize for them. No excuses were made about why the media made these assumptions, but she was sorry for them. He held down the power button and completely shut down his device and tossed it back on the table. 

“I can’t keep doing this, Lu.” You whispered, almost inaudible. A frown was placed on your face as you said those words. Your feelings for the Aussie had grown dramatically, and the fact that you couldn’t do anything more about it was only hurting you.

He sighed, wrapping an arm around your figure and bringing you closer to his. “I know.”

“Doesn’t it hurt you? That she treats you like this?”

He nodded. “I’m waiting on my publicist to say something. His contract is over in a week, after that, I make my own decisions.”

You leaned up, matching the height of his face with yours. “Good.”

“Then I’ll be all yours.”

You smiled to yourself before kissing his lips gently. “All mine.”

[softspideys]

Average (Frat!Tom Holland x reader)

summary: tom holland is the handsome, popular, and charismatic king of your campus. so why has he taken an interest in you?

warnings: none

word count: 3,000

pairings: frat!tom holland x reader

a/n: I personally prefer respectful frat boy tom to jerky frat boy tom. inspired by this glorious photo. I hope you you like it:) 

When Tom Holland first spoke to you, your immediate instinct was to assume it was a joke.

You’d just arrived at the party his frat was throwing and immediately made a beeline for the kitchen. You were never totally comfortable in situations like these, but after a couple drinks you tended to be more social and easygoing.

“Hey,” a voice said as you finished pouring yourself some of the suspicious-looking Jungle Juice. You turned around and almost did a double-take.

You knew who Tom was; his roommate Harrison was friends with your roommate Jess, but you’d never spoken to him. He was popular, but there were no rumors about him being a player or an asshole or a creep like there were with some of his frat brothers.

Now he was smiling at you, looking casual in jeans and a black t-shirt, a baseball cap pulled over his curly hair. “Hey,” you answered, once you were positive he was talking to you. There was no one else around you, but still.

“Can I get you something to drink?”

“Um, no thanks,” you said, gesturing to the cup in your hand. “I’m good.” You figured he was just being polite, but then he continued to speak to you.

“You’re Jess’s roommate, right?” he asked.

You nodded, a little surprised. You honestly didn’t even think he was aware you existed. But then it hit you—he must be looking for her and probably recognized you from one of her Instagram photos or something. “Yeah. I don’t know where she is, though. I just got here.”

“Cool,” he said. “I’ve only met her a couple times—she’s friends with my roommate Harrison—but she talked about you a lot. I’m Tom.” He held out his hand.

Slowly, you shook it. “Y/N.” This was weird. If he wasn’t being polite and he wasn’t looking for someone else, then why was he talking to you? You had to get out of there. “Um, I have to go now. It was nice meeting you.”

“Oh, okay,” he said. “See you around, maybe.” You smiled a little instead of answering before practically fleeing the kitchen and joining the party. The rest of the night passed uneventfully and you didn’t see Tom again.

You thought about him briefly afterwards, but decided not to dwell on it. Maybe he was just bored. Maybe he saw you by yourself and took pity on you.

A few days later, Jess ambushed you while you were doing homework in the library. “You talked to Tom Holland at the party on Saturday?” she whispered excitedly.

“Yeah, for like a minute. It was before I found you. Why?”

“Harrison told me he was asking about you. Want me to pass along your number?”

“No!” you said quickly, feeling your face get warm. “Wait. What do you mean, he was asking about me? Asking what?”

“You know, just like . . . what your deal is, and whatever.” She shrugged. “He probably wants to hang out with you.”

“Me? Why?” The thought made your heartbeat quicken.

Jess rolled her eyes. “Oh my God. Why wouldn’t he? You’re a total catch. I don’t know why you’re so surprised.”

The conversation was making you more and more uncomfortable. Tom was good-looking and popular and probably had tons of people lining up just to “hang out” with him. What was so special about you?

Despite your doubts, you found yourself giving in. “Okay,” you said finally. “I guess you can give him my number.”

Jess smiled, her eyes sparkling. “Awesome. I’ll tell Harrison.” She leaned closer, suddenly serious. “And look, I wouldn’t push this if I didn’t think it was a good idea, okay? You know I got your back. Tom is really nice.”

She had a point. “I know,” you said grudgingly. “We’ll see if he even texts me.”

~ ~ ~  

Tom texted you the day after Jess passed your number on.

hey it’s tom, we met at the party on saturday :) i got your number from jess. i was wondering if you wanna hang out sometime?

You spent almost an hour reading it over and over, trying to figure out if there was any hidden meaning in the short message. Finally you wrote back: sure.

You expected him to invite you to another frat party or something similar, but instead he asked if you wanted to grab coffee and do homework. Midterms were coming up, after all.

So you met him at a cafe on campus on a chilly Thursday afternoon. He was there when you arrived, sitting at a table in the back. He looked cozy, all bundled up in a hoodie and sweats. You bought yourself a hot chocolate and sat across from him. “Um, hi.”

“Hi.” He smiled at you. “How’s it going?”

“Good. How are you?”

“Pretty good.”

You looked around. He’d picked a two-person table, but that didn’t mean someone else couldn’t pull up a chair. “Is it just going to be us?”

His smile faded a little. “Uh, yeah. Is that okay? I thought—I mean, you can see if Jess is around or something, but—”

“No, no,” you interrupted, wanting to kick yourself. “No, this is fine. I was just asking. I don’t mind.”

“Oh, okay.” He relaxed. “I’m glad you came. I didn’t think you would.”

“Why?”

He shrugged. “You just didn’t seem very, uh . . . excited.”

You cringed inwardly, clearing your throat. “Oh, sorry. I’m not very good at texting. Ask Jess.” You smiled a little at the thought of your best friend. “She’s always mad at me because I take hours to respond and then it usually just ends up being one word.”

Tom laughed. “Oh man, my brother Sam is the same way. I have to send a message to him in all caps that says SOS EMERGENCY PLEASE ANSWER NOW if I want him to answer within the hour.”

“You have a brother?”

“Yeah, three actually. There’s me, then the twins Sam and Harry, and then my youngest brother Paddy.”

“Wow,” you said, raising your eyebrows. “Your house must’ve been pretty crazy growing up.”

“You could say that.”

Before you got to the cafe, you told yourself that you only had to stay for an hour. One hour, and then you could make up some excuse as to why you had to leave. But as time went on, you realized you were actually enjoying yourself. The conversation flowed naturally, and Tom was a good listener. He didn’t seem to mind when you eventually lapsed into silence to get some studying down, and the two of you worked quietly for a while. He even offered to refill your drink when he went to get another for himself.

“Got any plans for dinner?” he asked finally, breaking the comfortable silence you’d grown used to. You looked out the window and saw it was getting dark out.

At first you thought maybe he was going to ask if you wanted to get something to eat with him. But as quick as the idea occurred, you shot it down. That was silly; he’d already been here with you for a few hours now. Maybe he was meeting other people after this and wanted you to take a hint.

So you lied, “Yeah, I’m meeting Jess at a dining hall. I should probably get going, actually.”

“Oh, right,” he said, glancing down at his homework. “Uh, same here.” You both quickly packed up your stuff and left the cafe, pausing before you officially went your separate ways.

“That was fun,” Tom said. He hesitated, and you braced yourself to hear some excuse as to why he would never talk to you again.

You certainly weren’t expecting him to ask shyly, “Would you want to hang out again?” You blinked, certain you hadn’t heard him right. But he just looked at you, waiting for your response, and after a pause you nodded.

“Yeah. I would like that.”

Tom’s answering smile was practically blinding. You couldn’t help but return it. “Awesome,” he said. “Um, I’ll text you?”

“Okay,” you said. “See you later.” He smiled at you for a second longer before he turned and walked away, a happy sort of bounce in his step.

You couldn’t help it; you walked home with a dumb grin on your face.

~ ~ ~

True to his word, Tom texted you a few days later to ask if you wanted to hang out again. This time you accepted readily.

At first, the two of you just got together to have coffee and do homework. Then he somehow managed to figure out part of your schedule and would meet you on your way to class. Even if he had a lecture on the other side of campus, he insisted on walking you all the way to yours.

He started texting you more, sometimes sending you funny videos or memes, but also sharing random thoughts and asking questions. Now you checked your phone frequently, trying to get in the habit of responding quickly or initiating conversation with him first. You followed each other on social media and you noticed he’d liked all of your Instagram photos. Just to be funny, you liked a couple of his too, but then wondered if he would find it weird.

“We’re friends,” you told Jess when she noticed you smiling at your phone. “That’s it.”

“Yeah, and I’m the Queen of England. Are you kidding me?”

“I’m serious,” you said, because you knew what she was insinuating and there was just no way Tom Holland would be into you like that. Sometimes you saw him around campus, always surrounded by a laughing group of friends and admirers. He was like the sun, and you knew you were lucky to even be in his orbit.

“We’re having a party on Friday night,” Tom said to you one afternoon. The weather was nice, so you’d claimed a sunny spot out on the quad to do some homework.

“Cool.” You were more focused on the essay you were writing than the conversation.

“Are you gonna go?” he pressed.

“I don’t know. Maybe if Jess goes I’ll come too.”

“Well . . .” He trailed off, and you looked up to see he was fidgeting with the cuffs of his sleeves. “What if we went together?”

You stared at him. Of all the things you were expecting him to say, it certainly was not that. “Like . . . me and you? Like . . .  as your date?”

Tom was blushing now, steadily avoiding your eyes. “Um. Yes?”

Alarm bells were going off in your brain. If Jess were here she’d be throwing a parade, but you knew there had to be a catch. Out of all the people on campus, why was he asking you?

You opened your mouth to say no, but then he finally glanced up at you. His expression was so earnest and hopeful that you found yourself saying, “Sure.”

“Really? You want to?” he said, like he couldn’t believe it.

You nodded. “Yeah, it sounds fun.”

There was that goofy grin again, lighting up his entire face. “Okay,” he said. “Cool.”

You knew you should be excited, but there was a nervous pit in your stomach that just wouldn’t go away. It was still there when you arrived at Tom’s frat house that Friday. You didn’t recognize the brother at the door on security duty, but he took one look and waved you inside, no questions asked.

You were a little confused; you came by yourself last time too and had to say you knew Harrison. But the brother merely said, “Tom put you on the list.”

The boy in question was in the kitchen, talking to a few of his brothers. He noticed you walk in immediately and his eyes lit up. “Hey! You’re here!” To your surprise he gave you a hug, and you tried not to focus on how good his cologne smelled.

“You look nice,” he said when he pulled away. In an attempt to feel more confident, you’d worn your favorite pair of jeans and a cute top, even allowing Jess to do some hair and makeup magic on you.

“Thank you,” you said. “Um, so do you.” He was just in jeans and a purple flannel, a black baseball cap twisted backwards on his head, but he still managed to make it look effortlessly cool.

“Thanks.” He paused. “I’m, uh, really glad you came.”  

“Me too,” you said quietly. He smiled at you and the knot in your stomach tightened.

Tom barely left your side the entire night. He introduced you to some of his fraternity brothers, whose names you forgot as soon as they said them. A few of them had brought dates too, and while they were all friendly and welcoming, you couldn’t help but feel frumpy and plain standing next to them.

It didn’t help that there were some not-so-friendly girls coming over too. They gave Tom hugs and kisses on the cheek before eyeing you critically. You could practically see the invisible thought bubble forming over their heads each time they looked at you: why is he here with you? You wanted to tell them that you were wondering the same thing.

The longer you thought about it, the worse you felt. It just didn’t make sense. Tom had practically half the campus falling at his feet; why wasn’t he with someone more talented, better looking, charismatic? Why had he picked you? You were so . . . average.

Maybe it was some kind of prank, some kind of fucked-up tradition in his fraternity: find a shy girl, get her to fall in love with you, and then break her heart. That had to be it. There was no other explanation.

“Are you alright?” Tom asked, tearing you from your thoughts. You realized you hadn’t spoken in several minutes, just staring off into space.

You swallowed. “Could we, um, go somewhere quiet? Please?”

He studied your face for a second before he nodded. “Of course.” He put one hand on your back, gently guiding you out of the crowded room and up the stairs. You followed him down the hallway until he stopped at a door with a sign that said TOM & HARRISON.

Oh. This was his room. 

He ushered you in and you noticed he left the door slightly ajar, so you could easily leave if you wanted to. Still, you immediately took a seat at his desk, not wanting to even go near the bed. Tom didn’t seem to mind, falling onto it with a loud thud and a content sigh. Neither of you spoke for a minute. Finally you glanced over at him and saw he was already watching you, a tiny smile on his face.

You couldn’t take it any longer. “Is this, like, a prank or something?”

“What?”

“This. Like,” you gestured vaguely between the two of you, “all of this. Is it a joke?”

Tom’s smile vanished. He scrambled to sit up, scooting towards the edge of the bed. “What are you talking about? Why would you even think that?”

You shrugged, avoiding his eyes. “I don’t know. I’ve just been trying to figure out why someone like you would be doing all of this with someone like me.”

He looked lost. “Doing what?”

“You know . . . hanging out with me, texting me, inviting me here . . .”

He stared at you for a second before he let out a short, disbelieving laugh. “I mean . . . I like you. I thought that was obvious.”

“But why?” You were frustrated to find you were near tears. “You could have your pick of anyone on this campus. There are so many girls in this house alone right now who are prettier and funnier and more interesting than me. So why . . . why me?”

Tom slowly stood up and came over to where you were sitting, kneeling in front of you. “Because I think you’re pretty and funny and interesting,” he said, looking at you unflinchingly. “None of those other people matter to me. I don’t know why you keep trying to convince yourself that you’re, like . . . not good enough or whatever, but it’s not true.”

You bit your lip as he took your hand. “I’m just . . . not used to this. Usually people tend not to notice me.” 

“I did,” he said simply. “And I really, really like you.”

“I really like you too,” you said quietly. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to be sorry,” Tom said gently. “Just trust me, okay? I would never hurt you like that.”

He was being honest. He always had been, but you believed him now. You took a deep breath. “Can I kiss you?”

Tom blinked in surprise before he nodded. You leaned in and kissed him softly; his lips were a little chapped and tasted sweet and sort of fruity, like the juice from his drink. His hands came up to carefully cup your jaw, holding you in place. It made your head dizzy and your knees weak; it was perfect.

It was like a dam broke. Suddenly you couldn’t get enough of him, couldn’t figure out what to do with the happy, fizzy feeling in your stomach. You pulled back a little, pressing kisses to his cheeks and his nose. Tom giggled like the touch made him ticklish and you thought to yourself, You were so silly to deny yourself for so long, to think you didn’t deserve this.

You knew better now. You knew you did.

[theyscreamjade]

Who’s Your Captain?

So! YALL know how much of a hoe I am. I couldn’t just aim for Hange and not give Levi some love. I’m short as fuck too..so, let’s not act as if I’m tall or anything...So! I had to do some hoe things and just..have some fun. Also, My guy @husband-to-tomura-shigaraki is in here~

Disclaimer: Smut! 18+

Kinks: Exhibition, Public Play, Over Stimulation, Jealous Sex.

It was a sticky, hot summer night when we decided to make camp from our escapade. With the Titans nearly obsolete, We finally had a chance to explore the outside world. The fireflies glowed while I changed into a pair of black shorts and a tank top, having my hair in a high sun while the long sunset still glowed in the sky.

“Hey Jade! Dinner’s ready!” Hayden said as I walked out from my tent. “Good, I’m starving.” I said, stretching a bit. I walked over to the bonfire, putting my cape back on as I could feel eyes on me. My suspicions were confirmed when I saw Jean’s eyes quickly snap from my view. I raised my eyebrow in curiosity before shrugging it off.

“Here you go, I made my famous stew!” Hanji said as I cheered softly. “Good, I’m starving!” Sasha said, sitting beside me on the large log. Once all the bowls were individually handed out and our feasting began, the excited Sasha and of course the first to ask for seconds declared something.

“We should play a game!” She said, holding her second bowl. “We can play a game when you’re done eating, you’ll spit all over us.” Connie commented as she rolled her eyes.

“We always had to be quiet while we’re out here but now! We can be as loud as we want and not have to worry about a single thing.” She said happily as Hanji stood up.

“She’s right! Oh, I have a game.” They said before walking to their tent. After a few minutes, I sat my bowl aside as Hanji walked back, holding a cup with a cup full of bottle caps. “Everyone dunk their hand in and pick out a bottle cap, whoever picks out the one with a crown on it. They’re the winner and control anyone they please with a limit of three.” She said as Sasha’s eyes sparkled.

“I have a bad idea about this..” Armin commented softly before following suit with everyone else. I looked at Coca-Cola lid and held it up, showing everyone as Jean held up the crown.

“Well, Your royal highness. You have three people to command to do as you please.” Hanji reminded before sitting on the log again. A small smirk formed on his lips as he turned to Eren. “I command you go swim in the lake.” He said as Eren looked at him with the best shocked face. “What?! No! I’m not going to do that! That’s stupid!” He screamed.

“It’s the rule Eren, you must follow them.” Mikasa said as she downed her water. “Just be a good sport and follow what the king says.” Connie said softly as Eren growled in anger. “Fine!” He snapped as he stood up.

He stormed off, walking toward the lake as we followed like a duck and a bunch of baby ducklings. Once he arrived, he snatched his shirt off as he looked at the cool lake water. “I fucking hate this..” he said to himself before jumping in with a large splash.

He soon jumped back out, splashing a bit at how cold it was. Hayden giggled softly, holding a towel for him while I laughed watching them. “What the you brats doing?” A voice asked, sending chills down my spine while making my heart flutter.

I turned around, seeing Levi stand a few inches away from us. He soon walked over to the group as they salute to him. “You know I could hear you guys from my tent.”

“Sorry sir, We’re just playing a game! Wanna join us?” Sasha asked eagerly as Levi looked at her. “I don’t play games.”

“Oh, don’t be such a sour puss! Here, take a bottle cap and join us!” Hanji said holding the cup to him while shaking it. Levi gave me a small glance before taking a cap out as well, earning a squeal from Hanji. “Well, looks like your king still Jean. Who’s next?” Hanji asked.

Jean looked as Sasha as she quickly threw a potato from her hands as it landed in the lake with a loud plop.

Tears rolled down my cheeks as Sasha huffed in annoyance. “I swear Jean, I’m going to destroy you when I’m king.” She said, lifting her leg up as she gained her balance. “My name is Sasha and I’m the meat and potato queen.” She said before putting her makeshift leaf crown on as we laughed. “N-Now that’s funny!” Connie said as Eren laughed with him.

Sasha snatched the ridiculous outfit off along with the crown, sitting beside me. “Jade?” Jeans said, catching me off guard. “Yes, your majesty?” I asked, standing while doing a bow to him.

“I believe I deserve a smooch from you, don’t you think?” He said as my eyes widened. “A smooch? i-I don’t know about that.” I said, trying to hide my nervousness before looking at Hange as if I’m saying ‘Help me.’

Only a few people knew about Levi and I’s secret relationship which was honestly preferred from both of us. I never liked labels and Levi liked privacy, it was a win-win. Eren, Hayden, Hange, Erwin and lastly Mikasa knew but only because she accidentally barged in while we did the dirty on his desk one night.

“Come on, Just one. That’s all I ask from my gorgeous queen.” Jean said, standing over me as he leaned down. “Come on, Jade! Just give him one!” Connie said as Sasha nodded. “I had to do that stupid dare! You can do this!” She said as Jean moved closer.

I sighed, placing my hands on his cheeks and pulled him close. I placed my thumbs over his lips quickly before kissing him. After a minute, I pulled away as Eren’s completely shocked face read my fate tonight. While everyone replaced the lids back in the cup, I glanced at Levi who stared at me with absolute glare in his eyes.

His silence sent chills down my spine as the game continued until the third person declared that they’re going to bed, before I knew it. Levi and I were alone.

The intense silence and tension so thick that you could cut it as I stared at the slowly dying flame before standing. “I’m gonna get some rest, you should too.” I said, walking toward my tent. A calloused hand grabbed my wrist, catching me off guard as Levi stood up slowly. “Let’s go talk.” He said, pointing towards a nearby cliff.

Damn my submissive ass.

I opened my mouth to make a excuse before he gave me a tug, leading us away from the campsite. I silently prayed that no one would see us or a Titan randomly appear as he lead us away. We stepped down off the cliff, we were away from everyone else and the only thing behind him was open plains of thick grass.

“Okay, what did you want to talk a-“

I gasped, my body colliding with thick rocky under the cliff as his face was inches from mine. “You think you’re just going to get away with kissing my cadet?” He asked a growl in his voice as my eyes widened.

“I-I-“

“I didn’t say speak now, did I?” Levi asked, his hand pinned my wrists over my head as his other touched my hip, fiddling with my tank top while his dark orbs stared deeply into mine. “You’re were such a fucking tease, huh brat? Wearing this and then kissed Jean, no wonder he couldn’t keep his eyes off you.” He said before spanking my ass before gripping it.

“What do you have say?” He asked, while I struggled to keep a moan in. “I-I did...I-didn’t mean to wear this, I-it’s hot and I-I-“ I tried to say as he chuckled.

“It’s funny how you’re usually able to speak your mind but when I have you like this, you’re a stuttering.” He retorted, stopping my excuse. His hand released my wrists, snatching my cape off as his lips slammed against mine.

I moaned softly against his passion, tugging his black silky locs as he scooped me up as if I was weightless. Our bodies moved closer as if he wanted to fuse us into one as the kiss was broken and he latched into my neck, biting and sucking around my collar.

I bite my finger while trying to hide my excitedly, hell I started getting wet when I heard his voice. He had that power over my body. I knew I had to keep it down and hoped no one would even step this way but it was hard with Levi, especially when he knew your body like the back of his hand.

I flinched, feeling two fingers push inside my wet core as I stifled out a moan. “You’re so fucking wet...I wonder who has you like this, nearly drenched for them..” he growled in my ear while pumping his fingers roughly. My right hand gripped his wrist to try and slow him down while my mouth was agape, gasps seeping in while I tried my hardest to keep my moans in but damn it was hard with Levi motherfucking Ackerman.

“What’s wrong? You’re close? You’re close to cumming for me?” He teased while smirking at me. My knees buckled a bit as his left hand lifted my tank top up, pinching my nipple as my moan finally slipped out. The moment his fingers curled, that’s what did it. I couldn’t keep them in, my moans slipped out like small gasps and were only low enough for him to hear before he pulled his hand out of me right as soon as I was about to climax.

My legs were like jelly, nearly losing my balance as I looked at him shocked. “What’s wrong? You wanted me to keep going?” He asked as I nodded quickly. “Why should I let you cum? Especially how you acted today?” He asked while picking my cape off the ground.

“I-I’m sorry, but Levi please. I’m begging you, l-let me cum!” I gasped out, my clit stinging in disarray while I whined softly.

“You said I-“

“Daddy, Please make me cum!” I cried out loud enough for him to hear, closing my eyes while panting softly. “Please make me cum and I won’t do it ever again!” I added as everything moved in a swift movement. My shorts dangled off my ankle that held high in the sky while my other leg barely held up on the ground. I wasn’t even able to adjust to his thick size as he slammed deep inside me.

My wetness drizzled down my legs while my hand touched his hips to slow him down while he hovered over me. “F-Fuck..T-T-Too deep! Fuck me!” I whined, my nails gripping his abs as he ignored my pleas. God someone’s going to hear us, someone’s gonna find out. Someone’s gonna know.

My first climax rushed past as the second was approaching full swing. My legs wobbled before he snatched my other up, letting the other down as I instinctively wrapped them around his waist as I pulled him close. “Look at you, in absolute bliss all because of me..” he growled while smirking, I knew he was. Levi could get cocky at times and fuck was he good at it.

“Who can get you like this, Brat? Who’s Captain of this pussy? Who does it belong to?” He asked, while my nails gripped his shoulders. “Y-you! It belongs to you! It’s Levi Ackerman’s! I-It’s yours!” I screamed, unknowingly while my eyes rolled back. My tongue slipped out, I sucked in deep and quick gasps as my climax slammed into me like a crashing wave.

My toes curled as I squeezed him, squirting all over him. His moan echoed in my head while he gripped my hips, slamming himself inside me at a rough pace until he climax, his tip filling me up while we pant in unison.

Once we calmed down, I moved my hands off his shoulders and kissed his nose. “Were you jealous?” I asked suddenly as he scoffed. “I don’t get jealous over stupid things like that, I knew that kiss wasn’t anything.” He responded while I gave him my best ‘really’ face.

“I just didn’t like the fact he was all over you, if our relationship is public or not. He should understand boundaries.” He finished, setting me back on my feet, grabbing my shorts. “And you are jealous because someone kissed your secret girlfriend, don’t worry Levi. I understand.” I said slipping them on as I fixed my shirt.

“I’ll talk to him in the morning and settle t-“

“Oh Daddy!” Someone moaned in a mocking tone as we paused. My eyes grew as big as saucers as I looked up from the cliff as Eren, Jean and Connie all poked their heads out. “Go captain! Get some!” Eren commented as embarrassment flooded through my body. I looked at Levi as he looked at them with a look he usually gave to Titans, the silent rage in his eyes as he spoke.

“You’re all dead.”

[aliceindiamonds]

Ghostface x Reader

“Boo!”

I opened my mouth to scream as the locker door flung open to reveal him. Ghostface. Standing there tall, and broad, and dark, like the shadow of a monster.

Not half a second later, his gloved hand clapped against my mouth to silence me. “Shhh, doll. It’s just me and you,” he waved absentmindedly behind him with his other hand. “The others are dead. No point wasting those pretty little screams…” I felt bile rise up in my throat, knowing the pain they must have gone through.

Seemingly spotting my change in demeanour, the Ghostface tilted his mask and examined me. “Oh, but I’ve upset you now. I’m sorry, baby. Would it make it better if I told you it was quick?” It must have been. We’d not been in the trial long. I hadn’t even been hit once.

Terrified, I breathed heavily and quickly through my nose, almost choked by his fingers and by the sickening, metallic smell of blood on his glove. The last time I had been alone with this man he had tortured me to death. My stomach lurched in anticipation.

He withdrew his hand from atop my mouth but didn’t step back, choosing instead to hang lazily into the locker. His mask drew closer, staring and spectral, and I pressed myself as far back as I could to gain some distance. “Have you missed me, doll?”

I didn’t answer, inhaling and exhaling shakily and quickly. This didn’t please him.

In a second, his knife was drawn. He plunged it into the back of the locker, directly at the side of my face- nicking the edge of my cheek.

I heard him exhale behind his mask. “Fuck, doll. I didn’t mean to hurt you. But it’s rude to ignore it when someone asks you a question.”

I gulped. The scrape on the edge of my face was thin and shallow, but a sparkling row of crimson droplets wept from it anyway. I was always a bleeder. Vaccination? Paper cut? Sliced my finger cutting vegetables? It was as if my body was over dramatic, responding in the extreme to any slight damage. “What do you want me to say?” I managed, shakily, forcing myself to look at the two black holes where his eyes were hidden.

“That’s a dangerous question,” Ghostface hummed, stepping back from the locker. “Come with me.” It might have been a command, but he gave me no chance to follow it. His arms reached around me and he lifted me over his shoulder, as if I weighed nothing. I didn’t try to struggle free. I had never been a fast runner.

I closed my eyes, feeling tears barely stay at bay. Killers were killers. I could handle murder now. I could handle these trials. It hurt and it horrified me but I knew the drill. This though? This left me in the dark. Total unknown. Ghostface frightened me like I’d never been frightened before.

What felt like minutes later, I was lowered, somewhat gently, onto a couch. I recognised where we were as the centre of the empty lodge in Ormond. The fire was crackling to the right of me but it didn’t fight the chill I felt when I looked at the man that had carried me here.

A moment later, I found a voice. “When are you going to kill me?”

Silence. Ghostface hovered over me, unblinking and threatening in his black attire and plastic mask. Then: “Soon, I think.”

I nodded, taking in the situation I was in. “I see. Well, can we get it over with?” I asked.

“Why?” Ghostface asked in response, and I frowned.

“Because I don’t want to be tortured?”

“But if it’s not me, it will only be someone else.”

“They just kill me- you do something else.”

“Oh, and what do I do, doll?”

“You take sick, weird pleasure in it.”

Ghostface laughed, I think. He leaned in close to me again, and used his thumb to lift his mask slightly. I saw his chin and jawline, sharp and square and manly, and then felt the wet heat of his tongue at my cheek. Licking the cut he’d given me earlier. The action made an obscene noise. I squeezed my legs together, mortified by the throb I felt below my abdomen.

Close to my ear, he clicked his tongue softly before whispering, “You’re right, I do take pleasure in it, baby. And I’ve taken a shine to you.” He withdrew, and dropped to his knees in front of where I sat. His mask was level with my face and I swallowed loudly, looking at the human features he’d revealed. “Want to see?” he asked, a smirk on his pink, full lips.

I didn’t nod, but he could surely see it in my eyes. I was curious. In response, he reached up as though about to push the mask up. At the last second, he stopped. “Too bad, beautiful.” He pulled the mask down, and with that the shutters closed, the hint of humanity I’d seen disappeared. “We’re just not there yet. And there are some other things I’d rather do first.”

I tried not to let my face betray the disappointment I felt, and looked at the floor. Seconds later, a soft whistle told me to look up, and Ghostface held his knife again. “Now, now. We’re gonna have a little fun.” In his black gloved hand, the knife descended, slowly and carefully to my chest. He stopped when the tip just barely grazed my flesh. “Make your pretty noises for me again, and I promise I’ll reward you, doll.” His other hand rested at my waist, and he stroked my clothed skin with seeming reverence.

With a slash, his silver hunting knife sliced a deep cut across the bare chest revealed by the top I had on. I gasped at the way it stung, fresh and sharp and agonising. The blood spilled almost instantly and began to pool between my breasts, staining the nude bra I wore. He didn’t stop there. Far from it. In fact, his carving was incessant- not too shallow, not too deep, quick, deliberate- as if he were creating a pattern across my flesh. I didn’t beg for mercy, but I felt the tempo of my breathing quicken and slow and slow and quicken and I whimpered softly, surely, melodiously. I let myself cry but didn’t sob. At the sound, the man behind the mask moaned roughly and leaned closer to me.

“You’re perfect,” he groaned as his knife penetrated, slowly, through the jeans I wore and into the thick flesh of my thigh. I felt the blade pierce my skin and delve deeper, deeper, hotter, searing, torturous pain. I cried out, biting my lip and squeezing my eyes shut. “Fuck, don’t close your eyes, look at me-” he twisted the knife until I looked at the black mesh covering his eyes.

With the knife still in my leg, I tried in vain to regulate my laboured breathing. In, out, in out, in out. Ghostface withdrew, settling between my legs on the floor. He leaned his head against the thigh he hadn’t run through before speaking. “Your blood is like something out of a movie, you know,” the man murmured, sultry and slow and dreamy. His breath felt hot against my leg, but that might have been my imagination. Surely my brain had no space to process any more sensation than the pain of being stabbed. “It just pours. Like wine. Shit, when I pull this knife out, you’ll probably go dizzy from blood loss. Fuck…”

“You’re sick.” I managed weakly, feeling pale and tired.

Laughter. Smooth, sexy, sultry laughter. “I’m Danny, actually.” He grabbed the hilt of the knife and ripped it unforgivingly from my flesh.

[mmvalentine]

The Bargain pt 11 | Feysand

Modern AU. Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10. Just a little more smut, yeah?

Rhys woke up early and traced patterns lightly on Feyre’s skin as she slept.

They had just one more day together before he flew home to New York, but in the pale dawn light and with Feyre’s even breaths beneath his fingers, he couldn’t for the life of him think of why he needed to go back.

After a moment, Feyre stirred.

“Making me more tattoos, are you?” she mumbled, without opening her eyes. Rhys chuckled. “Sorry,” he said, “I didn’t mean to wake you.” “Why?” Feyre asked muzzily. She rolled around to face him, all smudged mascara and sleep-swollen lips. Beneath the sheets, Rhys was hard in an instant.

"Because I wanted to let you sleep." “But we only have one more day,” she said, and looked so cute when she frowned that it broke Rhys’ heart a little. He pulled her body over his, loving how soft she was all over, and kissed her nose.

"And what would you like to do with this one more day?" he asked her. Had not meant to add any suggestions of his own, but the way she was nuzzling into his chest, still waking slowly, had his hips sliding under her. Feyre's eyes widened a little, and colour bloomed on her cheeks.

"I could think of one thing," she breathed. "We don't have to-" Rhys started to say, but got cut off as Feyre put her lips on his throat. His words broke off into a stifled moan as the heat of her hovered just below his navel.

Her hands slid over his collar bones and around the back of his neck, and she was so marvelously warm on top of him. Next thing he knew, her tongue had made a blazing trail down his sternum, over his stomach, and around the head of his cock. Rhys gasped, and gripped the bars of the headboard hard enough for them to creak in protest.

When Feyre slid her mouth down over the length of him, Rhys's hips jerked forward reflexively.

"Sorry," he muttered, trying to hold still. But Feyre just moved her lips lower, letting him hit the back of her throat and sucking hard on the way back up. Rhys groaned, and the sound seemed to encourage her. She moved her head back and forth and the world shifted in and out of focus.

"That... feels amazing," Rhys told her, watching her move over his body. Feyre didn't reply, just kept up a steady rhythm until Rhys could barely stand it.

"You're going to have to slow down," he managed to get out. Feyre shook her head 'no,' and decidedly did not slow down. "Seriously," Rhys said between gritted teeth. "I'm not going to be much use you you in a second."

Feyre lifted her head long enough to say, "we don't have anymore condoms anyway," and then resumed her motion. Used her hand at the same time to cover the length of him. Rhys's hips arced up off the bed to meet her touch, and one hand moved through her hair before he realised he had reached out.

"Feyre stop I'm gonna come," he said, jaw clenched. But she showed no intention of doing any such thing. "Feyre." His control crumbled, and he started fucking hard into her mouth. She didn't pull back. "Feyre I'm gonna..." And then he was coming and she was swallowing him down and the sight of it was so unbearably sexy that his climax stretched on even after he was empty.

Feyre crawled back up his chest, kissed him with his own cum still on her tongue, and then promptly took a snooze right there on top of him like a cat. Rhys just watched her in wonder, and stroked her bare back while she slept.

Fifteen minutes later, she woke, they kissed lazily in bed and then in the shower, and then they strolled down the road to the bakery. And to the chemist.

On the way, Feyre chatted about Berlin sights she thought Rhys needed to see, iconic street art she could show him, and the best food in town. Rhys nodded along, saying very little and being content to watch Feyre animated and enthusiastic.

And he did want to do all of those things, wanted to go anywhere Feyre took him. Really, he did.

But then they got back to the hotel room, and did not manage to leave it again that day.

Did make love on the edge of the bed, fall off the side and fuck on the floor, get messy and have sex in the shower with their hands pressed up to the glass. Did cover each other's bodies in swirling patterns with black markers and ball point pens found in the hotel drawers. Did take breaks for pretzels and hot chocolate, before beginning again in the tangled white sheets with the 'do not disturb' tag hanging on the door handle outside.

They were just dozing off on the rug, Feyre in nothing but a pair of white cotton panties and black ink, Rhys completely naked, when Tarquin rang, and the sharp intrusion of the outside world in their little bubble was about as welcome to Rhys as a kick in the guts.

Feyre groaned. "Don't answer," she said, her head pillowed on Rhys' stomach. His fingers traced around her navel.

"Hello?" "Rhys! It's Tarquin. How are things over there?" "Fantastic," Rhys said. "We've finished painting and are tidying up now. I was just about to call you and tell you the good news."

Feyre took his fingers and guided them lower. She moaned softly as he pushed light circles onto her clit, over her underwear.

"You have? Wie schöne, that's wonderful news," Tarquin said. "I'll come meet you both up there."

Feyre reached out and stroked his cock while he dipped his fingers under her waistband.

"Actually," Rhys said, forcing his voice to come out evenly, "we're just leaving now. But I would still encourage you to go have a look." "Oh but I want to see it with you," Tarquin argued. "Give my thanks to you both. Shake your hands."

Rhys bit back a laugh. "Don't think you could shake out hands right now." Feyre giggled silently. "They're... covered in paint."

"Ah fair enough, but even figuratively speaking, it'd be good to see you both off." "Love to, Tarquin," Rhys said, eyeing Feyre. She was starting to arch off the floor, and little whimpers were escaping as his fingers sped up. He held a finger to his lips. "Unfortunately we actually have an engagement to get to. We're leaving the site now, and I'm going to eat something but I'll put Feyre on."

He handed the phone to Feyre, and at the same time rolled over her. Slid her underwear down and put his mouth on her pussy. She lifted her hips to him, and then mouthed Naughty, while her eyes sparkled above him.

"Hello?" she said. Breathlessly. "Oh, yes Tarquin do come have a look. It's-" here here breath hitched, "well I'm quite without words, Rhys is ve-ery skilled hmmmm I've been so glad to work with him on this project."

Rhys grinned, and reached his tongue deep inside her. Feyre clamped a hand down on the phone's speaker and bit down hard on her lip.

"No, we won't be there but I would love to... ah... to.. mm, to catch up with you later in the week. Sorry, yes I am a bit... uh... out of breath. We're carrying all the supplies back to my... umm.. my car."

Feyre swatted Rhys' head, but he just sped up his tongue on her clit.

"Doyouknowwhat, ah, Tarquin you head up there now, text me what you think and I... I'll speak to you later. Yep. Okay. Yesokaybye."

Feyre hung up the phone, threw it to one side and then moaned so loudly and deeply Rhys felt the vibration in her stomach. She wrapped her legs around his head, put her hands in her hair and pushed herself closer to him. She was hotter than anything, and then Rhys was palming his own cock while he watched writhe on the floor. It wasn't long before she was coming undone on his lips.

When she finally came, Rhys was struck with the desire to draw her, just like this, in gorgeous ecstasy and with the exact colour of the blush across her chest.

The next morning, Rhys was due to get on a plane.

They sat in Feyre's car, with Rhys' bag on the back seat, and sat outside the airport without saying a word. Eventually, Feyre said, "Do you know, I came a long way to get away from my ex, and now all I feel is homesick." "Do you now?" Rhys murmured. "I've honestly thought about moving back to New York. But I packed everything up and left. I have nothing there, I have nowhere to live."

Rhys leaned back in his seat, and grinned lazily at Feyre.

"I'll make you a bargain, Feyre darling," he said. "I'm listening," Feyre replied. "You move back to New York and you can stay with me while you look for somewhere, and then you just move out when you find a place." Feyre considered it. "That would make things easier," she agreed.

"And hey," Rhys continued. "Maybe you like living with me and you never move out." Feyre grinned right back. "Maybe you like me and we live happily ever after."

Rhys shrugged. "Anything could happen," he said. Feyre stuck her hand out.

"It's a deal," she said, and they shook on it. Rhys pulled her in by the hand and kissed her, committing to memory the exact way she tasted.

"Come home soon, then," he whispered. **** Theeeeee end! That's all lovers, thank you so, so much to everyone who has been with me on this super lovely ride. Your comments, reblogs and general love have been deeply appreciated and I am forever grateful. I am a bit sad this one is over.

MASTERLIST

TAGLIST: @ghostlyrose2 @highladysith @stardelia @feysand-loml @tillyrubes10 @ratabrasileira @live-the-fangirl-life @maybekindasortaace @annejulianneh111 @thebonecarver @rowaelinismyotp @loosingdreams @whythefuckdoiexist @inejsarrow @swankii-art-teacher @sjmships @courtofjurdan @teddytdr @positivewitch @thalia-2-rose @darling-archeron @rapunzel1523 @fairchildjace @philosophorumaurum02 @story-scribbler @allthecolorsneverseen @asteria-of-mars

[msmarvelouswinchester]

Invisible String

Summary - Dean Winchester was never a man who would freely speak about his feelings and emotions. The reader, is his best friend of many years but some wrong choices and words of Dean's pushes a the reader away.

Pairing - AU Dean Winchester x Reader

Warnings - Fluff (lots of fluff), angst-ish, swearing, mentions of abusive relationship, mentions of bad parenting, cheating

Square filled - Bestfriend AU ( @spndeanbingo )

Word count - 6150

A/N - This is written for @supernatural-jackles' Bi-weekly challenge. The prompts are in bold. Spn dividers by the amazingly talented @talesmaniac89 (go check her blog out) Beta'd by @mariekoukie6661 (she is a sweetheart for agreeing to take a look at this long fic. Thank you💕)

“So what are we watching?” You asked as you slumped down on the yellow couch. You were dead on your feet after a long week of work but you just couldn't break tradition and not hang out with your best friend like every friday. Pulling the comforter close to your body, you let out a sigh of contentment. Truth be told, no matter how exhausted you were, you always looked forward to movie night.

“I picked the movie last friday, now it's your turn,” Dean handed you a bottle of beer and took a seat beside you. Your eyes sparkled with a glint of mischief, a knowing smile appeared on your face as Dean's lips curled up in disgust. “No chick flicks,” he warned.

“I get to call dibs on the movie tonight so I picked,” you paused for a second to create a dramatic effect, “The Proposal.”

“No!” Dean cried out in horror.

“Oh come on, it is not going to be that bad. Ryan Reynolds and Sandra Bullock are in that movie.” you winked at him, making him groan and he picked up a cushion to cover his face, “Now, now don't be so dramatic.” He removed the cushion from his face and glared at you. He opened his mouth to say something but was cut off by the sound of the doorbell. “Pizza's here!” He exclaimed as he got up to open the door. You turned on the tv, opened Netflix and put on the movie.

“I don't understand how we can be best friends,” Dean grumbled as he came back to the room, “you eat your pizza with pineapple on it.” “It tastes good. You should try it one day.” you said and took the two boxes of food from his hand, setting them down on the table in front.

“Are you kidding me? Even if that becomes the only food available on earth, I still won't eat it. You can't put fruits on pizza,” he said, and took a slice from his own pizza and nestled into the comforter beside you.

“Tomato is a fruit, De,” you said, biting into the slice in your hand. You heard him mutter something under his breath which you ignored and shifted your focus to the movie playing on the screen. Halfway through the movie, you yawned and snuggled into your best friend. He wrapped his warm hands around you, pulling you closer to him. “You want to head back now?” He asked softly, leaning in to kiss your forehead.

“Nuh-uh,” you said, “I want to finish the movie. I need to see if Andrew got Margaret back .” That elicited a chuckle from Dean, the vibrations of his laugh shaking your body a little.

“You're so stubborn and they are gonna find each other, it's a chick flick for God's sake,” he said, “they love each other, clearly.”

“Speaking of love, Cas asked me out,” you said, making Dean sit up straight. “What'd you say?” He asked

“Yes obviously. I need to dive back into the dating life,” you shrugged, “and Cas seems like a good guy.”

“He is but I thought you wanted to wait because of what happened with you know ‘ he who must not be named’,” he said, and you picked up the remote to pause the movie.

“I can't live in the past. I need to move on. It has been two years since I've gone on a date and it's not like I'm getting engaged tomorrow. It's just a date,” you said, messing with the loose end of the comforter.

“As you wish. I'm just looking out for you.”

“I know. You always do,” you said, giving Dean a tight hug, “and I kinda miss doing it.”

“Doing what?” “Sex,” Dean's eyebrows shot up, “oh come on, it's not like I didn't use to have sex with….him.”

“So,” he gulped, “so you m-miss doing….it?”

“Kind of. My fingers are not enough, you know what I mean right?”

“Of course, of course,” Dean cleared his throat, blush crept up his neck.

“And it's not just sex, I miss the physical touch, I miss those things that are part of a relationship,” you said, “I need this and I think I'm ready.”

“If you think you're ready, then it's fine. I just don't want to see my best friend with a broken heart again.” he said, his fingers getting entangled in your hair, as he slowly massaged your scalp.

“That feels good,” you moaned, “after that hell of a meeting with Azazel, I needed this night De. Thank you for always being there.”

“You're my best friend. I'll always be there when you need me even if you make me watch stupid romcoms.” he grinned, “Azazel creating problems again?”

“He never seems to approve of the templates and designs I make no matter how hard I try to make them loveable and on the other hand, the shitty designs made by Abaddon always gets approved.” you groan.

“Why don't you change jobs?”

“I can't. It's not that simple. Life's going good. I don't want to disrupt it by going on a job hunt.” you sighed.

“What if you start working for my company?” You immediately turned your head towards Dean and looked at him with surprise clear in your eyes.

“No.” “Why not?

“I'm a graphic designer, De. I'm not built to work in your company,” you said.

“Be my PA. I really need a personal assistant to help me keep upto date with my schedule and I'm a mess after Charlie left.” Dean said.

“But what is my job criteria? That I'm your best friend? It's like taking advantage of you. I can't do that.”

“What if you work as my PA after being interviewed for the job?” He asked. “Fine, maybe I can give it a shot,” you said.

“Awesome! Meet me in my office on Monday, ten in the morning, sharp. I don't tolerate tardiness.” he said, slipping quickly in the work mode.

“Aye, aye captain.” You giggled, but a deep frown soon appeared on your face.

“What?” “What if it messes up our relationship?”

“It won't. I know how to separate my work life from my personal one,” Dean assured.

“I guess, then it's okay,” you smiled.

“So about your date with Cas. Where's he taking you?”

“I have no idea,” you chuckled, “he said it will be a surprise.”

“That's-that's great but he should know that you hate surprises,” Dean raised an eyebrow.

“He doesn't know me very well. I'll let that pass this one time,” you told Dean.

“Fair enough,” he laughed. You yawned once more, as you tried to fight the drowsiness that was threatening to take over you.

“You want to head back home now or you want to crash here tonight, sleepyhead?” Dean smiled.

“I don't think I can drive all the way in such a state. Do you mind if I crash here?” You grinned, knowing very well he didn't mind because you crashed in his guest rooms on most of the Friday nights. He rolled his eyes as he got up from the couch.

“I'll prepare the guest room.” You sleepily nodded at him. You didn't realise you had fallen asleep but you were soon woken up when you felt your body move.

“Sorry, didn't mean to wake you up. I'm taking you to bed,” you found yourself in Dean's arms as he headed towards the guest room with you, “you looked too peaceful sleeping. Go back to sleep.” He softly murmured. Dean gently placed you in the bed, pulling the cover upto your chest as you snuggled into the warmth of the covers. Within a few minutes, you had dozed off.

“Morning, sunshine. Pancakes for you,” Dean's loud voice woke you up from your deep slumber the next morning. You sat up in your bed, as you rubbed the sleep from your eyes, the smell of pancakes hitting your nose.

“Breakfast in bed for my girl. Listen I gotta run to the office now,” he said as he handed you the plate of freshly cooked pancakes to you.

“It's Saturday!” You exclaimed.

“I know but Benny wanted to sign the deal with our company today. It's an important one, we can't let that go out of our hands,” he made you understand, “I'll be back within a few hours.”

“Sufe fing. I wif ve here,” you spoke with your mouth full, “Sure thing. I will be here.” You repeated your words after swallowing your food.

“Maggie will drop by. If you want to leave the house before I return, give the keys to her.” He said as he went back into his room to put his suit on.

“Hot damn,” you let out a low whistle as Dean stepped out of the room in his black suit, “Go get the deal, cowboy!” Dean did a full body laugh at your words, throwing his head backwards before he bid you goodbye and walked out of the door leaving you alone in his penthouse. Finishing your breakfast, you got up and got freshened up for the day. You picked up your phone and saw three texts from Cas.

“Meet me at 7.” “At the Season's 52.” “I'm looking forward to this.”

A smile crept onto your face, as you read the texts from him. “I need your help,” you shot a text to Ruby, “I've a date tonight. I don't know what to wear.” You waited for her to text back but instead of getting a text, you got a call from her.

“He finally asked you out?” She screamed from the other side of the phone.

“What do you mean “finally”?” You wondered.

“Oh come on, Y/N. How long have you two known each other?” “Uh-two months.”

“Two-wait, two months? You don't have a date with Dean?” She asked.

“No! Why would you think that?” You exclaimed, “Cas asked me out.”

“Cas? As in Castiel Novak? Dean's friend? And Dean's okay with it?”

“What's with the twenty questions, Ruby?” You said, annoyed at her questions, “And yes. Dean's fine with it. Why wouldn't he be? He is dating Lisa, in case you didn't remember. Now will you help me? I need a dress for tonight.”

Ruby agreed to go on a little shopping spree with you to find the perfect dress. Handing over the keys to Maggie, the housekeeper, you shot a text to Dean letting him know you were leaving his house. You waited for some time but he didn't text you back. You shrugged it off thinking he was probably busy with the meeting. Your whole afternoon was spent with Ruby as you tried to find a good dress for the date. She made you try on what seemed like a hundred dresses of different colours and style until a green bottleneck dress finally caught your eyes.

“This is a beautiful dress! You gotta try it on,” Your friend insisted.

“You sure? Look at the price - it's too expensive,” you pouted.

“Do you want to get laid tonight?” Ruby quirked her eyebrow.

“Yeah-I mean no….maybe,” you stutter.

“That dress - Cas won't be able to take his eyes off you tonight,” she smiled.

“Fine, if you insist.” Needless to say, the dress was a perfect fit but it was all for nothing.

Tapping on the hardwood of the table, you let out a frustrating sigh. Tears pricked at your eyes as you took a sip of the drink.

“Ma'am do you-are you going to-”

“Please bring the check. I'm done here,” you said, barely managing to keep your tears at bay. The waitress nodded and walked away from your table. You dialed up your best friend’s number and waited for him to pick up.

“Dean,” you said, sniffling a little as he picked up his phone after the third ring. “Y/N, you okay?” Dean asked.

“Yeah, yeah. Can you,” you cleared your throat, “Can you pick me up? I'm at Season’s 52.”

“Sure,” you heard shuffling on the other side, “I'll be there as soon as possible.”

“Okay,” you replied.

“He just didn't show up,” you sniffled as Dean drove yourselves back to his house.

“Maybe-maybe he had his reasons,” Dean said, throwing a worried glance at your way.

“Reasons?” You scoffed.

“Cas is a good man. This is very unlike him,” Dean said.

“Am I-am I not good enough, Dean?” “Y/N, you know that's not true. You're pretty, smart, a little badass - you are a good person with a kind heart,” Dean smiled.

“Then why? Why didn't he show up? He could have left a message. I'm telling you Dean, I'm so over men now. All men are the same,” you looked at him, “except you.”

“Thanks, sweetheart. That is good to hear.”

“I sure do know how to choose,” you grumbled.

“Y/N, it's just one bad date. So what? Cas is not the only man in the whole world. You'll find someone,” Dean said, pulling into his driveway.

“I don't think so. Maybe he was right,” you opened the door of the car to step out.

“Who?”

“Alistair. Maybe he is right. Maybe the problem is me,” you said, tears pooling in your eyes. Dean grabbed your hands and pulled you back into the car.

“No. He is not right. Alistair will never be right. He was an abusive and manipulative son of a bitch. Listen to me, you are not the problem, sweetheart,” he said, “those men just don't understand you.”

“Is that why no one sticks around?” You turned around to face him with wet eyes.

“I did and I will always be there for you,” he said, his hands cupping your face.

“I know, De,” you leaned into his touch as his thumb gently caressed your cheeks. You opened your mouth to speak but were cut off by three harsh taps on the car window. Dean immediately opened the door and stepped out.

“Lisa.” He said.

“Unbelievable, Dean!” Lisa exclaimed. You couldn't see her face but you knew she was furious.

“It's not what it looks like,” Dean whispered.

“You just up and left me in the morning and now when I get back to talk things out, I find you cozying up to her. I'm done with you!” She yelled back. You shrunk back into your seat when you heard her scream. Dean didn't even tell you that he had broken up with her. You wondered why he hid it from you.

“I already said we were over Lisa, just go back home,” Dean said and brought his hand down his face.

“Three years of relationship meant nothing to you! Why?” Lisa shoved Dean, making him stumble back a little.

“I don't owe you an explanation, okay?”

“You cheating asshole-” “I didn't cheat on you, Lisa. I-I'm just not in love with you anymore,” Dean said, making her scoff.

“Have a nice life, asshole!” Lisa said and you heard her retreating footsteps. You stepped out of the car and saw Dean standing against the car, with his face buried in his hands.

“Hey, you okay?” You rubbed his arm gently.

“Yeah. I'm sorry you had to hear that,” he sighed.

“Why didn't you tell me you broke up with her?” You asked.

“It wasn’t important.” “Not important? You let me ramble all the way from the restaurant to your house but not once did you tell me you broke up with her,” you said.

“Y/N, I'm fine. Can we drop this now?” He snapped at you, “I'm sorry.”

“S’okay,” you gave him a sad smile, “I've an idea.”

“Does this idea include booze?” “What do ya think?” “I'm in.”

“What time is it?” You groaned as bright light hit your eyes. The throbbing pain in your head increased as you opened your eyes, trying to focus on the human figure standing in your doorway.

“You got wasted last night, sweetheart,” Dean grinned.

“Stop talking. Just stop talking,” you groaned and nestled deep into your covers.

“Aspirin. You will need these,” he kept the medicine on the nightstand, and walked away, “Breakfast is ready.”

“Morning, how's the hangover?” He gave you a cheeky smile as you walked into the dining room a few minutes later. Dean had his laptop opened in front of him, a cup of coffee beside the electronic device. “You're enjoying this too much, aren't ya? How come you're not hung-over?” You grumbled, “I'm hungry.”

“Here. I made waffles because my heartbroken, hung-over best friend needs her comfort food. Dig in,” he said and pushed a plate of waffles towards you, “I didn't drink much.”

“I thought we were drinking because you had a breakup.” “I told you already I'm not feeling miserable. See there's this girl I like who is not Lisa. I'm thinkin’ of asking her out so I did what I had to do. I ended things with Lisa,” Dean said.

“How come you never told me about this girl?” You narrowed your eyes at him. “‘Cause I wasn't sure how I felt but two days ago I saw her and I just knew that she is the one I want to be with,” he smiled.

“You're such a sap.” You giggled, “she must be very special.”

“She is very special. I have never met a girl like her,” he said, staring at you, “now, eat up.”

“Mhm,” you moaned, taking a bite of the waffles on your plate, “you know, you should give up your business and open up a coffee shop. You make excellent waffles.”

“Sorry sweetheart, no can do. People at work will miss me too much,” he chuckled, “you do remember you are interviewing for the position of PA tomorrow?”

“Yep but I don't know if I will get it or not. I have heard the CEO of the company is kind of a shithead,” you grinned.

“Oh really?” Dean looked at you with amused eyes, “You're terrible.”

“Yeah, so I've heard.” You laughed.

He shook his head at you, “Listen, I have a favour to ask.” “Shoot.”

“I would like it if you could accompany me to Sam and Jess’ anniversary party tonight,” he said.

“Tonight?” “Yeah. I know it's very sudden but it completely sli-”

“I'll go with you but I thought you told me that after what happened with your Dad last time, you wouldn't be attending another family gathering,” you said.

“Uh-huh. Sam insisted that I attend this party,” he replied.

“Fine I'll be there with you at the party to save you from John Winchester,” you giggled.

“You'll be my knight in shining armour tonight.” He chuckled.

You went back to your apartment to get ready for the party. Dean had told you that he would be picking you up at six that evening. As you touched up on your makeup, you heard three knocks on your door.

“Good evening, Y/N,” Dean smirked, looking dapper in a black two-piece suit.

“Good evening, Dean. I'll be out in a minute,” you blushed when you saw his eyes travel all over your body.

“You look beautiful, sweetheart,” he said.

“Thanks.”

“De-” you snaked placed your hand over his, as you both sat inside the Impala with her engine turned off.

“I can't do this Y/N. I can't face John Winchester again, not after the crap he pulled last time,” he gritted out the words, his knuckles turning white as he held the steering wheel tightly, staring off at the direction of his house.

“Why are you here?” He looked at you in surprise. “I-Sam asked me to be here,” he said.

“Exactly. Your little brother asked you to be here so you will go into that house and attend your brother's party. It's up to you if you want to make any small talk, I'll be there with you but Dean you can't avoid your father forever-”

“I'm not avoiding him,” Dean said.

“Yes, you are. Now go in there, ask him why he did that, demand answers from him,” you said.

“I-okay, let's go. Just don't leave my side tonight or someone might get hurt,” he said.

“You're not going to punch your Dad,” you mumbled, “even though he deserves it.” He chuckled at your words as you two stepped out of the car.

“I'll never get used to the fact that you grew up in a mansion,” you smirked.

“It's not a mansion. It's a….big house,” he smiled.

“Yep, whatever you say.” As soon as you stepped through the door of the mansion, Dean was immediately pulled into a hug. “I thought you wouldn't show up,” Sam said, letting go of his brother, “Hey Y/N.”

“Almost didn't,” the older Winchester replied as you gave the younger one a small wave. “He showed up, didn't he? What about Mom?”

“Mom and Dad are in the living room. Last thing I saw they are not speaking to each other even when they are in the same room. I just want everyone to act civil till the party's over,” Sam said, “Drinks are in the kitchen.”

“So kitchen first, living room later. Keep John out of my sight and everything will be perfect,” Dean patted his brother's shoulder and made his way towards the kitchen, taking you with him. Pouring himself a glass, he handed you one.

“Dean,” a deep voice came from the doorway, making Dean stand up straight. “Sam had one job. Dad.” He looked at John and gave him a curt reply.

There was a moment of awkward silence as no words were exchanged between the father and the son. You could feel Dean trying his level best to keep himself from screaming at his Dad. You put a hand on his shoulder, trying to calm him down.

“I know you don't want to see me right now-��� “You're right and you may leave now,” Dean said and turned his back towards his father.

“Son. You have to understand, it was a long time back and I didn't know what was going through my head. I-” John sighed.

“You what? You had a perfect family here. A wife, two sons. And all this time, you knew about Adam but you said nothing. You kept up with the charade of the perfect husband and father when in reality you were neither of them,” Dean gritted out.

“Dean. Maybe I was not the perfect husband but I did everything for you and Sam,” the older man said in a harsh tone.

“Really? You did everything? You were nothing but an absent father. I was there to take care of Mom and Sammy while you were away on your so-called business trips when actually you were plowing another woman's field,” Dean growled at his father.

“Dean!” His father snapped back.

“Mr. Winchester you should leave now,” you said, trying to diffuse the situation before it got out of hand, “John, please.”

“This is family matter Y/N. You have no right to get involved in this,” John retorted.

“Don't speak to her like that. She is more family to me than you ever were,” Dean said and stalked towards his Dad, “so you can leave now. I'm sure as hell Mom is not talking to you so you can get the hell out of this house now, John.”

“Dean-” “Now,” Dean growled.

“I would do what he says, John,” you said. John scoffed, turning around and got out of the house. Dean plopped down on one of the chairs in the kitchen, gently rubbing his temples.

“You sure you're okay?” “I need a stronger drink,” he murmured.

“I saw Dad leave. What happened?” Sam came into the kitchen and asked as he looked at his brother.

“I told you to keep John away from me. You had one job,” Dean snapped and stormed out of the room, grabbing a glass of drink with him.

“He just needs some time to cool down. John came to talk to Dean and-”

“Yeah I understood. I'm gonna check on Mom. This party was a mistake,” Sam said and left the kitchen leaving you standing there alone.

You squeezed your eyes shut as you finished up your drink. You were angry at John too. He had hurt Dean, your best friend. He was a liar and you hated liars. You needed to go find Dean. You placed the empty glass on the counter and made your towards the door but you stopped dead in your tracks when you saw him.

“Cas,” you said, “I didn't expect you to be here.”

“Yeah well, Sam is a good friend so he invited me over.” Cas gave you a smile.

“Oh.” You nodded.

“We should probably address the elephant in the room,” he gave an awkward laugh.

“Huh? Oh you mean how you stood me up last night?” You glared at him.

“Well you didn't tell me that you were looking for only a one night stand? I would have backed out sooner. I like you Y/N but I don't do one night-”

“Wait, hold on. Who told you I was looking for a one time, no strings attached thing?”

“Dean told me,” your jaw dropped onto the floor at his confession, “I'm sorry Y-”

“S’okay.” You brushed him off, “I need to have a word with Dean, have you seen him?”

“I think he was talking to Kevin over there,” Cas pointed you towards another room.

“Thanks and it's okay, Cas. We're cool.” You said and almost ran your way into the other room.

“I'm telling you man, you deserve someone better than Y/N. She is clingy and she doesn't take no for an answer. I can give you her number but-” Dean turned around and his eyes locked with your wet ones. You shook your head at him, a look of betrayal evident on your face. You heard him call out to you as you turned on your heels and ran towards the door. “Excuse me, Kevin,” Dean said and went after you but by that time you were already out of the house. “Y/N!” He called, as you pulled out your phone to call for an uber.

“Fuck you!” You exclaimed, “I'm clingy, I don't take no for an answer. Is that what you think of me? All this time while you pretended to be my best friend, is this what went through your head?” Tears were running down your face now, “how many times was I there for you when you needed me and this is how you repay me?”

“I didn't mean to say it like that. You are my best friend Y/N-”

“You are a fuckin’ liar! You told Cas that I was looking for a person to keep my bed warm for only one night. Why? You know what, I don't want to talk to you right now. Leave me alone,” you said.

“No, please,” he took a step towards you. “Don't you dare make a move!” You screamed, “You lied to me and I hate liars more than anything. You are no better than your Dad. I hate you! I regret that I ever thought of you as my best friend.” You heard shuffling behind you and turned around to see him leaving. A sob tore from your throat. Standing there alone on the porch of the Winchester mansion, with your smudged makeup, you waited for the uber to show up.

It took you one hour to finally reach your house. Your phone was getting blown up by messages from the Winchester brothers and Ruby. You broke down in tears as soon as you reached your house. You crawled underneath the covers without bothering to get out of your dress or to remove your makeup. Your body shook as you continued to sob loudly into the pillow. The same man, who acted as your rock when you had left Alistair, gave you shelter in his house when you showed up in the middle of the night because your ex-boyfriend was drunk and was on a rampage, was the one who continued to spew lies about you behind your back. Your trust was shattered just like your heart and you didn't know how to piece them back together. The crying had tired you out and in no time you slipped into a deep slumber with Dean's words haunting your dream.

Morning came way too quickly. You woke up to Ruby knocking on your door along with Dean calling your phone. Your eyes were red and swollen as a result of crying all night long.

“What happened? Who's ass do I need to kick?” Ruby barged into your house as soon as you opened the door as saw you had been crying.

“....Dean.” “Dean? Dean Winchester?” Her eyes widened in surprise which later turned to anger when you told her everything that had happened the day before. Ruby was furious and if Dean was there in the room, he would have been a dead man.

“Oh Y/N,” Ruby cooed as she pulled you into a hug, “I didn't know it was this bad. Sam called me to check on you because you left his house in a hurry. I'm gonna kill Dean Winchester.” You held onto her tightly as sobs racked through your body. She gently caressed your head while cursing the green-eyed Winchester.

You were miserable but what you didn't know is that your ex-best friend was also losing his mind over the incident. The guilt was eating him up alive and he didn't know how to fix it. Sam had punched him in the face and kicked him out of his house when he had told him what happened.

“Tell her the truth or don't ever talk to me again,” Sam had threatened his brother. With red eyes and a swollen cheek, Dean went into his office the next morning. He hoped that after the interview he would get a chance to apologise but you never showed up.

“Okay, Mr. Winchester, that was the last interviewee,” Jody poked in her head into the room. “That was the last? What about uh-Y/N L/N?” Dean asked.

“Uh-she dropped out - called us early in the morning to let us know she won't make it to the interview,” Jody smiled, “I need your decision fast.”

“Decision?” “Who we are hiring for the position of the PA,” she said.

“Sure. I'll let you know. You can go now Jody. Close the door on your way out,” Dean said.

He sighed as he dialed your number, “It's Y/N L/N. She can't get to her phone now. Please leave a message.”

“Y/N, sweetheart I'm sorry. You shouldn't have dropped out of the interview. I know you won't ever forgive me but I'm sorry.” You sniffled as you heard his voice message. He had left you exactly fifty-three texts, twenty three missed calls and seventeen voice messages - all had the same words, ‘I'm sorry’ but you couldn't forgive him.

“Stop listening to that asshat,” Ruby grumbled and snatched your phone from you. “I-I just can't understand why he did that? I thought he was my friend,” you sniffled.

“I'm sorry Y/N,” Ruby took a seat beside you and wrapped you in a comforter, “I brought ice cream with me. I heard they work wonders on a broken heart.”

“And you brought my favourite flavour. Thanks!” You hugged but were interrupted by the sound of your doorbell.

“Stay here. Let me check,” Ruby said and went towards the door. Opening it, she stared at a disheveled, sad Dean Winchester.

“Give me one good reason to not kick you out right now,” Ruby glared at Dean.

“I need to talk to her. Please,” Dean’s voice cracked at the end.

“No you won't. She is miserable and I won't let you break her even more,” Ruby challenged, “Now get out.”

“I don't care if I have to fight you but please let me see her,” he pleaded.

“You are one stubborn, lying piece of shit,” Ruby grumbled.

“Why are you here?” the two heads turned immediately towards you.

“I wasn't sure you wanted to see me but I had to see you,” Dean said.

“And why exactly?” Ruby snapped.

“Ruby. It's okay. Let him in. I need to hear him out.” Dean gave Ruby a side eye and let himself in.

“Y/N,” She started. “I'll be fine," you assured her.

“If you need me to kick him out or kick his ass, just call me,” she glared at Dean once more and left your apartment.

“She's scary,” the green-eyed man said. “Well she has to. She just saw her friend with a broken heart,” you threw him his words back.

“I can't tell you how sorry I am,” Dean said, his head hung in shame.

“Why?” He looked up at you, “I don't know,” he replied, making you scoff.

“You don't know? Well maybe because you actually thought of me to be clingy and the girl who doesn't take no for an answer,” you seethed, “and you even lied to Cas about me. You framed me as some whore who doesn't do relationships. Fuck you, Dean! You knew better than anyone how long it took me to get over Alistair. How could you do this to me?”

“I don't know,” he whispered, “It's just I lied to them because I didn't want them to be with you.”

“It's my life! I get to decide who I want to have sex with and who I want to date,” you hissed.

“Well I couldn't let you make those decisions because I didn't want you to choose them. I wanted you to choose me.” he blurted out. You sat there dumbfounded as you heard his confession, "What? Why?"

“Because...I love you,” Dean muttered.

“You love me?” “Yeah.”

“What are you, a kindergartener? Next thing I know you will be pulling my pigtails,” you sassed.

“I'm sorry. You know I'm bad with feelings-” “So you decided to lie?”

“Yeah.” “You're terrible, you know that,” you said.

“So I have heard,” he shrugged. “Come here you idiot,” you beckoned at him. He went towards you and sat down beside you.

“I'm sorry. I never meant to hurt you. I was just-” “What? You were just fending off the boys?”

“Yeah. At first I was scared that I was falling for my best friend and you knew me, you knew all my horrible secrets, the thoughts that are inside my head which keep me up at night and I was scared that you wouldn't feel the same. I broke up with Lisa for you because whenever I closed my eyes at night I wanted it to be you with me, not Lisa.” You were stunned at his confession. Dean never talked about his feelings, he was extremely good at hiding his feelings so hearing him blurt out about how he felt, surprised you.

“Dean,” you said. “No. I need to say this,” he said, stopping you, “I don't know if you feel the same. Even if you did, I don't think I have a chance after the stunt I pulled yesterday. But sweetheart, you mean everything to me, I swear to never hurt you again. I was planning on asking you out after the party but Kevin had asked for your number so I told him all those lies about you but sweetheart I know what I did….said is unforgivable but please I need you. I need my best friend back.” He looked at you, locking his teary eyes with yours.

“I don't know whether to kiss you or hit you,” you said, wiping away the single tear that rolled down your cheek. “K-kiss me?” Dean’s eyes went wide.

“You are the most horrible person I have ever met. I hate you, Dean but I hate me more that I decided to fall for this horrible person that I call my best friend. Kiss me, before I change my mind,” you said and that's all Dean needed before he crashed his lips into yours. It was a harsh kiss but one filled with longing and love. His hands sneaked to the back of your head, his fingers entangled with your hair as your hands held on to his biceps.

“I'm sorry for hurting you,” he said after he let go of your lips. You sat there with his hands cupping your face, your foreheads touching. “Next time, talk to me,” you whispered.

“I will,” he kissed your forehead, “So Y/N L/N, can I take you out for dinner tomorrow night?” “Definitely Dean Winchester, but mind you I'm tough to impress,” you smirked.

“I have plans, special plans for a special girl. I will make you mine,” he said before he leaned in to capture your lips with his once again.

[sapphirecobalt-1]

“The paint’s supposed to go where?” destiel, for the prompts! <3

The paint’s supposed to go where?” + Destiel, courtesy of @contemplativepancakes. Thank you so much for your patience <3

Rated M(ish). 2.5k

"The paint's supposed to go where?" Dean asks, shooting Cas a look that's half confused, half incredulous, and half horrified, which is one too many halves but Dean's never been good enough at math to care, especially not when his roommate of several years is staring at him like he’s stupid but doesn’t want to say anything out of misplaced politeness (it’s okay, Cas, Dean knows he’s an idiot, no need to sugar coat it).

Cas scrunches up his brows and it’s clear as day he’s confused about Dean’s confusion. "On...your...body?" He asks more than says, speaking slowly and it's a testament to how well Dean knows his best friend that he understands the meaning behind Cas' words. Is this okay? Are you sure you want to do this?

Dean glances back and forth between Cas and the paintbrush in his hand. “I thought you wanted to paint me?” he asks, uncertainty coloring his tone.

“No, I asked if I could paint on you.” Cas clarifies.

Dean doesn’t know jack shit about art, it’s why he’s a STEM major, but now he’s starting to wonder if he shouldn’t do that either, because really, who in their right mind would trust a person who can’t tell the difference between painting someone and painting on someone with an electrical system? Not Dean, that’s for damn sure.

“You want to...paint on me?” Dean repeats back to him, slowly, and as an added bonus even points to himself as if Cas could possibly be referring to anyone else in the empty studio.

Cas blinks. Then, he nods, patience and exasperation fighting for dominance on his features. In the end, understanding tinged with disappointment wins as he says, “if you’re not comfortable with this, I understand...”

“No,” Dean’s mouth blurts out before his brain has time to process Cas’ comment. “I said I’d help you with your project and I will.”

“Are you sure?” Cas asks hopefully, fidgeting with the paintbrush in his hands.

No. “’Course I am.”

Cas’ face lights up in appreciation and the butterflies in Dean’s stomach flutter up a storm cause they clearly have nothing better to do. Still, the look on Cas’ face when Dean accepts his challenge is enough to put the misunderstanding behind them and let go of his uncertainty.

Until it’s time for Cas to paint on Dean.

When Cas originally asked Dean to help him with his assignment, Dean thought he’d pose for a couple hours and Cas would paint him like a 16th century monarch (never mind that Dean wanted Cas to paint him like one of his French girls). And he was cool with that, hell, he even looked forward to it (spending time with Cas, that is, not holding the same position for who knows how long). Dean even did some stretches and practiced holding various positions for several minutes.

Nothing could have prepared him for Cas scooping up some brown (”it’s not brown, Dean, it’s called ‘Burnt Umber’”, whatever the hell that means) paint on his brush, walking into Dean’s personal space like he owned it (he did, good God he did), and painting broad strokes onto Dean’s pale, freckled chest. Dean shivers the second the cold paint touches his skin and Cas barely gives him time to adjust to the temperature and weird sensation of bristles on his skin before he goes to town painting...whatever the hell he’s painting.

Cas furrows his brows and Dean watches him stick his tongue out in concentration and it’s the cutest thing he’s ever seen.

“So, uh, this paint safe for people?” Dean asks fighting a shiver that has nothing to do with the temperature of the paint and everything to do with the way Cas gently places his hand on Dean’s waist as he paints jagged lines across Dean’s chest.

Cas pauses to look up at Dean. “Of course.” he answers. “I would never ask this of you if I knew it wasn’t safe.”

Dean distractedly nods his understanding, his attention split between the sparkle in Cas’ clear blue eyes and the unfamiliar yet warm feeling ballooning in his chest. He looks away and forces himself to pay attention to his surroundings, afraid he might say something stupid if he continues staring into Cas’ eyes like that.

As far as college level art classes go, this one’s no different than most. It’s got several easels, canvases, paint brushes, and tubes of paint scattered all over the floor, tables, and open drawers. The sunlight streaming from the three floor-to-ceiling windows light up the room more than the dollar store bare bulb hanging from the ceiling. The dark grey walls are littered with murals in various stages of completion: sketched out, drawn, half painted and painted. Dean briefly wonders where the artists are and why they never finished before his eyes land on the creepy skeleton in the far right corner. It doesn’t have eyes, but Dean swears Michaelangel-Bones (as the art students named it for reasons Dean will never understand) stares at him.

Having had his fill of the offending decoration in the corner, Dean turns to face Cas only to frown when he doesn’t immediately spot his friend. Motion captures his attention and he looks down to see Cas, on his knees, in front of Dean, getting some green paint before carefully painting small strokes across Dean’s stomach, one hand on his waist.

Dean’s brain stops working and his heart, doing the exact opposite, pounds so fast he’s surprised it doesn’t beat out of his chest like they do in cartoons. But why would it, when it’s too busy pumping blood down south?

Dean tears his eyes away from the incredibly attractive sight of Cas on his knees and faces Michaelangel-Bones as if the skeleton’s gonna help him keep it in his pants. Although, weirdly enough, thinking about the disturbing skeleton whose not-eyes follow him around the studio actually does help Dean squash down his inappropriate thoughts about his roommate. Just to be on the safe side, he conjures a few very unsexy images (the time he accidentally walked in on his parents doing the horizontal tango, him and Charlie pigging out at the local buffet, stuffing their mouths and making gross faces at one another) all in an effort to get Little Dean under control.

Once his thoughts, feelings, heart, and Little Dean are all under control, he risks glancing down at Cas.

Cas who’s carrying on, painting God-knows-what on Dean’s stomach, casual as can be, completely oblivious to Dean’s internal monologue, seemingly unaffected by being practically face-to-face with Little Dean. He’s staring at Dean’s pudgy stomach with the same intensity as earlier when he was painting Dean’s chest.

All of Dean’s hard (heh) work making sure Little Dean behaves himself almost goes out the window when he notices Cas is sticking his tongue out a little in concentration and Dean wishes he was using his tongue for something else.

Dean berates himself for going down that road before thinking unsexy thoughts again, Don’t think about that, think about the time we didn’t realize Miracle was a girl until she had puppies. He better get his thoughts about Cas under control before he runs out of unsexy thoughts and Cas ends up coming face-to-face with Dean’s feelings for him. The last thing Dean wants is to make things awkward between them by being forced to admit he’s been in love with his best friend for years because said friend notices his boner.

"Done with the front," Cas chimes in. Thank God, Dean thinks, the torture is over. Dean's heart rate begins to slow down a bit and his thoughts settle. He relaxes.

That is, until Cas says, "Now it's time for the back," his voice a bit deeper than usual, giving Dean a nervous yet appreciative smile and Dean's heartbeat spikes all over again.

He returns Cas' smile, hoping he doesn't look as nervous as his friend did while trying not to let his mind run wild with possible explanations for Cas' nervousness.

Instead, Dean focuses on Cas and his friend walks around him, deliberately not facing Dean, squeezes out some light blue and some yellow paint onto his clear, paint-covered pallet, cleans his current brush and gets a new one.

Dean clears his throat. "So, uh, whatcha workin' on?" He asks in an effort to distract himself, fidgeting with the hem of his jeans. It's not that he's not interested in what Cas is doing, whatever it is he's doing, it's just that he really needs a distraction from the heat of Cas' hand on his waist.

"I'm painting a tree on your chest and the rest of the garden on your back." Cas responds just as his brush begins to paint long, broad strokes across his tailbone.

Dean shivers from the touch which only makes Cas squeeze his waist and now Dean's shuddering for a completely different reason.

"Dean, I need you to stay still, please." Cas reminds him, stern but not unkindly, pausing his process while Dean gets himself under control.

"Sorry." Dean replies. Once Dean is still, Cas continues painting across his back. It tickles a little as the bristles leave trails of cold, wet, and slightly slimy paint over his muscles.

Dean feels more than sees Cas’ precise brushing motions, feels Cas’ hot breath heat up the goosebumps adorning his skin and his breath hitches.

Cas stops painting.

Dean looks over his shoulder to find Cas already staring at him. He meets Cas’ gaze and swallows. “Everything alright, Cas?” Dean speaks softly into the space between them, which, Dean notices, isn’t much.

“Dean, I...” Cas trails off.

This close, Dean can see his friend’s dilated pupils and he’s certain his are, too. “Yeah, Cas?” Dean asks softly and tentatively, worried that if he speaks too loudly it’ll ruin the moment between them, pop it like a bubble. He swallows again, somewhere in the back of his mind wondering when his mouth got so dry.

Cas responds by leaning into Dean’s space and all his thoughts about his feelings for his roommate ruining their friendship fly out the window as Cas lightly rakes his nails up Dean’s side, over his shoulder blade, and down his arm.

Dean shudders in response, loving the feel of Cas’ hand on his body, although he wishes the guy would put both hands on him.

Cas’ hand slides down his Dean’s arm slowly, as if afraid going any faster might scare Dean off. 

Once Dean feels Cas’ hand in his own, he intertwines their fingers and squeezes his hand as if to say I’m not going anywhere.

The soft look in Cas’s eyes becomes so intense, Dean’s surprised his pupils aren’t heart-shaped like in cartoons. Nevertheless, he returns Cas’ heart eyes and he swears he stops breathing and his heart stops beating in his chest as the world around them disappears.

No more sunlight streaming through the windows, no more Michael Angel-bones staring creepily at Dean, no more cold, wet paint drying slowly on his skin; only him and Cas and the small space between them that keeps getting smaller and smaller until their lips brush.

He distantly hears Cas’ paintbrush clatter as it falls on the floor but Cas runs his now empty hand through Dean’s hair and nothing else matters except closing the all but nonexistent space between them.

He’s not sure who moves first, only that one second there is a space between them and the next second Cas’ chapped, pillow-y lips are on his.

The angle is awkward and hurts Dean’s neck but it’s worth it because the kiss is sweet and gentle and everything he’s ever dreamed of and more.

They part only when they run out of breath and Dean rests his forehead on Cas’. They keep their eyes closed a little while longer, still a bit dazed from their kiss.

After a few moments, Dean slowly turns around. He opens his eyes and takes in the sight of Cas' unruly hair, heart eyes, the tiny blush coloring his cheeks, and his spit-slicked lips. Gazing into Cas' eyes, Dean finally understands what that funny yet warm feeling ballooning in his chest is.

Love.

"I love you," Dean blurts out, his mouth moving faster than his brain can keep up. He looks down at Cas' shirt collar, unable to meet his gaze, afraid of what he might see.

"I love you, too," Dean looks up at Cas' wavering tone. Cas' eyes are watery and Dean wipes the single tear streaming down his face.

"You - you do?" Dean whispers in disbelief. Somebody pinch him because he must be dreaming if his hot best friend actually reciprocates. "L-love me? Like, love me, love me?" Dean clarifies. It's stupid and he's well aware it is but he has to know, he has to make sure Cas doesn't mean it in the friend way.

"Yes, Dean," Cas answers in a steadier voice with a chuckle and Dean's heart soars. "I love you, love you."

Dean wraps his arms around Cas' neck and pulls him in for a desperate kiss.

Cas must have been expecting it because he wastes no time wrapping his arms around Dean's waist and giving as good as he’s getting.

They make out for several minutes, only pausing to breathe, letting their lips do all the talking, their kisses saying everything they've never dared speak out loud.

Eventually, Cas breaks the kiss and Dean whimpers at the loss of contact. As they separate, Cas’ shirt peels off of Dean’s chest, which feels really tacky. Dean and Cas wear matching grimaces as they take in the paint on Cas’ shirt. It’s the mirror image of the tree and grass painted on Dean’s chest except the edges are smeared making it look like a blurry photograph. 

Dean stares at Cas’ shirt a little longer before the realization that he ruined Cas’ painting hits him. The color drains from his face as he looks at Cas with wide eyes. “Your painting, Cas, man, I am so sorry —”

Cas meets his look and his grimace gives way to a small smile and he lifts one shoulder in a shrug, as if to say what can you do? “Dean,” he interrupts, putting a hand on Dean’s shoulder. “You don’t need to apologize.”

“But I ruined your —” Dean tries.

“Dean, it’s alright.” He reassures. “You didn’t ruin anything.” A pause. “And if I recall correctly —” he smirks as his cheeks fill with a rosy pink color, “— I am equally to blame for ruining my project.”

Dean glances at Cas’ discarded paintbrush on the ground, rubbing the back of his neck at the memory of them making out moments ago. “Still…” Unconvinced and a bit guilty despite Cas’ reassurance, Dean prompts.

“Besides,” Cas grabs his hands. “I have more important things to do.” Cas gives him a very heated and suggestive look. “Wouldn’t you agree?”

Dean swallows, hard, and nods a response, speechless at Cas’ words. He’s never really seen this side of his roommate and best friend but he is not complaining and plans on taking full advantage of this newfound discovery. 

And in the middle of the day, in the middle of the art classroom, he does just that, Cas’ painting long forgotten in favor of doing another kind of project.

[sluttyten]

You

summary: you have always fallen in love too easily, and when the famous idol dong sicheng enrolls at your university in one of your courses, classmates turns to study partners turns to friends and then lovers. and you’re afraid the only one who wants more for the relationship is you.

words: 13,082

pairing: winwin x reader

tags: friends with benefits, friends to lovers, choking, blowjobs, thigh riding, oral sex, smut, romance, angst, all the good stuff

Sometimes falling in love is so ridiculously simple that you do it by accident.

You fall in love with the cute boy who sits in front of you in class, who laughs with his whole chest, and says some of the smartest things you hear in class. You fall in love with the barista at the coffee shop for knowing your order when you come in and always saying things that could be construed as flirting.

You fall in love a thousand times when you arrive at university, but unfortunately it only sticks once. Like Cupid’s arrow sticking out of your chest, and it hurts. Really fucking bad. All the time.

Dong Sicheng was famous. You understood that very quickly when you walked by him on campus. He had his head down as he walked, a man who looked just a little older than him walked just beside him, glaring at a cluster of girls who wouldn’t stop giggling and taking pictures and videos of him.

At the time you didn’t recognize him.

Fifteen minutes later however he was sitting beside you in class, his hood pulled up still, and he hadn’t looked up from his phone where he was rapidly texting in a group message that appeared to be a mishmash of languages and memes.

When the professor called role, he looked up and claimed his name. Dong Sicheng.

Oh.

You knew that name.

Sicheng, also known as WinWin. A K-pop idol, a C-pop idol. Cute, talented, and smart.

Several other students in the class turned to look at him as he responded to his name with “Here.”

The professor didn’t flinch, continuing on with her list of names. It took a few moments for people to look away, and even once you had removed your gaze from him, you were still hyper aware of his presence. You could feel him there beside you like a tingling on the left side of your body. You could hear his quiet breathing, the shift of fabric as he moved a bit uncomfortably in his seat. And he smelled amazing.

It took only one full class sitting beside him for you to begin the process of falling in love all over again.

After half the semester, you realized you had somehow fallen into a friendship with him. Sitting beside each other in a course could apparently do that to two people, especially when he missed a few classes due to his career, so the exchange of numbers, the meeting up outside class to go over notes and study, those things led to a tenuous friendship that continued to grow into a real friendship.

That realization of friendship came the day that you and him met up to just go over a few notes he’d missed while he was briefly overseas for something. He didn’t have much free time, so you offered to meet him somewhere that worked for him. You didn’t realize the address he’d given you was his apartment until you arrived. 

When you knocked on the door, your heart was pounding. And when the door opened you were faced not with Sicheng, but with another boy who you’d seen him in pictures with before. Lucas, you thought. He was very handsome and tall, and when he laid his eyes on you they went wide for a moment before he let his lips shift into a charming smile and he leaned against the door. 

“Hello. Who are you?” 

You opened your mouth to respond, but then Sicheng appeared, stepping around Lucas to look at you. 

“This is my friend from school,” Sicheng said. He jerked his head, “Come on inside. Xuxi, we’re going to study.”

“Sure you are,” Lucas grinned, stepping aside to let you in. “I think I’m gonna go get food. I’ll be back in, like, an hour. Have fun.” He threw a wink at Sicheng and then slipped out through the door.

Sicheng was blushing, his cheeks lightly pink. “Ignore him. We can study here. Sorry for the mess, Kun’s not here now and usually he keeps the place spotless.” He stacked some dishes off the table, carrying them over to the sink, and then left them there to slide back into the seat beside you at the table.

You shift, still somewhat nervous because you’d expected that you would be meeting Sicheng at a cafe or something like that. Not in his home. Although, now that you think about it, it doesn’t seem very practical to meet somewhere public where fans could come up and distract him or start rumors about who he was with. The only few times you’d met with him before, you’d stayed on campus, usually tucked away in the library or maybe a quiet sitting area in the lower level of the building where you had classes, places where you could laugh together and share the snacks his dorm auntie had forced into his hands before he left for class. You notice that she’s not here now either.

“Lucas really didn’t mean anything,” he tells you. “I’m sorry if what he was saying made you uncomfortable.”

“No, it’s fine.” You brush your hair back, tying it back from your face. “What was the last day you were in class? We should start there.”

You get out your textbook, your notes, and for a while you and Sicheng do go over the notes, discuss the upcoming exam, and then Sicheng starts fidgeting, checking his phone, glancing at the door.

“Okay.” You start to gather your things, moving to put them back in your bag. 

“What are you doing?” He asks, reaching to put a hand on your notebook before you can close it. “Are you leaving?”

You trail your eyes from his hand up to his face. “Don’t you want me to? You keep looking at your phone and at the door. Do you want me to leave? I understand you probably like your privacy, so please, Sicheng, if I’ve overstayed and you would like me to get out of your hair, just tell me.”

He shakes his head, swallows past a lump in his throat. “That’s not it. It’s just... I’m a little hungry, so I ordered food on my phone like fifteen minutes ago. There’s more than enough for you too, if you’re hungry. You can hang out for a bit.”

You think of what he said earlier to Lucas. The whole “my friend from school” thing. Does he really look at you as a friend? Your heart starts beating a little harder again. Your face feels warm. If he sees you as a friend, then that’s the first step toward more, isn’t it? You want that. You really do.

“I could probably eat.” You slip your books back into your bag anyway, and smile over at him. 

The food arrives a few moments later, and you clear off some space on the table for the chicken. Sicheng pulls some beers out, and the two of you drink and eat and chat and drink some more. And it’s not that you’re a lightweight, just that once you get a few drinks in your system, you feel a lot lighter and looser, but still fully in control of yourself.

So when you look at Sicheng as he laughs at something you said, your heart skips a beat in your chest. His eyes are sparkling, his cheeks warmed as he ducks his head and just laughs, shaking his head a little. 

And then you laugh too, and he looks at you, his eyes drop to watch your lips, and you love the way his eyes feel on you, a heat filling your belly with his attention on you. You can’t help looking at his lips too. They look so soft, plush, a pretty pink. He probably kisses so sweetly. 

“Do I have some sauce on my lips?” Sicheng asks without even drawing his gaze away from your lips. 

You pray you’re not reading the situation wrong as you nod your head. “Yeah, you do.” He doesn’t, but you start to lean closer. “Do you want me to get it for you?” 

Sicheng’s mouth quirks. “Yeah.”

His lips are just as soft as you imagined. His fingers are warm when he puts his hand on your knee, slowly moving it higher as he leans into you. You reach for him too, touching his stomach over his shirt, and Sicheng makes a soft noise, pressing even closer.

You tug on his shirt and he smiles into the kiss. 

Then he suddenly stands, pushing his chair back from the table, and you follow, your mouth all but glued to his as he guides you through the dorm to his bedroom, twisting you around to fall upon his bed, a mess of sheets which you kick away as Sicheng covers you, his lips on your throat. 

You slide your hands up under his shirt, your nails lightly drag over his skin, and Sicheng rolls his hips against you, making such a soft moan.

A little voice of confidence tells you to keep going, to get him to make that noise again, make it louder. “Fuck me,” you groan.

Sicheng’s hands go to your waist, his hands tuck under your shirt, lifting it up your stomach and your chest, and he sits up a bit to pull it over your head, dropping the shirt off the bed. 

“Okay?” He asks, his thumbs stroking distractingly under the bottom edge of your bra. You lift into his touch, your fingernails still dragging against his back. 

You wonder if he can feel your heart pounding in your chest, beating so hard and fast that it’s a wonder you’re not gasping for breath. “So okay. Good, very good.” You dig your nails in, and he presses his hips against you again, and you feel the very firm shape of his dick. “Amazing,” you sigh, “You don’t have to go slow or be gentle with me. Trust me, I can take whatever you give me.”

The light amount of alcohol you’ve had loosens your tongue, and you hear yourself saying, “Be rough with me, let me suck you off, touch me. Please, Sicheng.”

He laughs. “Never would’ve thought when I first saw you in class that you’d be begging me, like a dirty school girl. It’s hot. I like hearing you beg.” 

“You want me to beg for it like one of your fans?” You tease, guiding a single finger down his chest. “Oh, WinWin! Please fuck me!” 

His hand curls over your mouth, pressing your head back into the pillow. “Don’t do it like that. I like the way my real name sounds from your lips better.”

You try to say it, but his hand muffles the letters. You stare into his eyes and Sicheng stares back, his touch lightens, and his fingers drag against your lips, watching closely as you say, “Sicheng.”

He swallows hard, his fingertips still caressing your lips as he says, “Just like that.”

You sit up just enough to connect your lips. You peel away all the layers remaining between the pair of you, and then his fingers slide between your legs, your hand wraps around his length. He pulls a moan from you with his long middle finger inside you. He mumbles something about how slick you feel. You touch him lightly, loving the way that he pushes forward into the circle of your fingers, the way he shivers when you swipe your thumb over his tip.

Sicheng looks so lovely over you like this, and you keep looking back and forth between his cockhead appearing between your fingers, his eyes so dark and gorgeous as he looks at you, and you watch the way his beautiful fingers disappear inside you. He  goes fast sometimes, then slows it down, slowly stroking your walls just to hear the keening sound you make, whining his name.

“Shit, I need to be inside you.” He groans after a few minutes of this. He drops a kiss to your shoulder, and then he kneels up, backing away from you until no parts of you are touching.

Sicheng moves off the bed, glancing back at you when you make a disappointed noise.

“A condom,” He explains, digging through his desk drawers. 

You sit up and rake your fingers through your hair, somewhat nervously as you look him up and down. Sicheng is so attractive you can’t believe you’re about to fuck him. His body is just so... perfect. You watch the graceful way he moves, the gentle curve of muscles in his arms and thighs and the perkiness of his ass. 

You’re still ogling him when he turns around, a condom wrapper caught between his teeth. He raises his brows at you, but proceeds to rip it open with his teeth and drop the wrapper aside. 

You pretend you’re not blushing, that you weren’t staring at him, and you go back to messing with you hair to get it out of the way. 

He says your name, low and quiet and quite seductively. You bite your lip and look over at him again. He’s looking at you as he rolls the condom down his length, and then he smiles, and says your name again before he reaches for your ankles, gripping onto them and pulling you to the edge of the bed. He reaches up, curling one hand against the back of your neck to tilt your head back so you’re looking up at him. 

The bed is raised off the floor enough that when he stands between your legs, it’s right at the perfect height for his dick to be teasing against your folds. 

But he doesn’t move then. Sicheng only brushes his thumb over your cheek, the corner of your lips. “This okay still?” 

You admire the moment of clarification. You nod, clasping both of your hands around his wrist, holding tight and you part your lips for his thumb to slip inside. You close your lips and gently suck on his thumb. 

Sicheng bites his lip in a failed attempt to stifle a curse. 

The pair of you remains in this embrace--his thumb in your mouth, your hands on his arm, his eyes locked on yours--as he finally eases his tip inside your pussy. 

You gasp around his thumb, and Sicheng draws his hand away from your cheek then, sliding it down to your throat again, only this time his fingers put a bit of pressure on either side of your throat, and you obey the motion, letting him guide you to lie flat on your back. He sinks over you, his cock sinking deeper. You bring your legs up beside his hips.

It’s been too long since you’ve felt like this. 

Your fingers, your imagination, your handy vibrator. None of them live up to actually having Sicheng inside you, his body hot against yours. You lick your lips and swallow down a moan as he bottoms out and pulls back until only the tip is inside you. 

His next thrust is just as deep, but it’s slow. Your core aches with need.

“Come on,” You whine, bouncing your hips up off the bed. “I’m not breakable. Don’t treat me like I’m fragile. Fuck me.”

His hands tighten on your body, and his next thrust forces the air from your lungs. “Like that?” Sicheng asks, his fingers flexing against your throat. You manage a nod. 

You slip a hand down your body to touch your clit, loving the jolt of your body, the spike of pleasure as you touch yourself and Sicheng’s hips crash against you. He thrusts deep, his hand tightening subtly on your throat, and when you start moaning, whimpering that you’re getting close, he bats your hand away from your clit, slows his pace down, and drops his hand from your throat to your chest. 

He pinches one of your nipples sharply between his fingers. “Don’t cum.”

His speed of thrusting is like torture now, so slowly sinking into you and pulling back just as slow. So steady, but steady isn’t what you want right now. 

You attempt to buck your hips up and get him moving again, but Sicheng just pins your hips to the bed. You reach for his shoulder, digging your nails in until he hisses and his hips twitch forward, burying his length fully inside you. You move your fingers up to his hair, twist and tug lightly and Sicheng groans, the first real sound of pleasure you’ve heard from him. His fingers tighten on your hip and he fucks into you, hard and deep. 

“Please, Sicheng. Cum with me.” You tug on his hair again.

He makes that noise again, and then he’s not holding back. His thumb swirls against your clit, and he starts fucking you at that good, rough pace again. 

The pleasure builds, a sweet knot in your belly, burning brighter and hotter as Sicheng starts breathing heavier and he moans your name under his breath. You wrap a hand around the back of his neck, keeping the other still tangled in his hair, and he sinks forward until your breath mingles, your voice chanting his name as his cock and his fingers take you right there to the edge and push you into the freefall of your orgasm.

He fucks you through it, reaching his own orgasm when he feels your walls fluttering and clenching around him. He fills the condom and pulls back with his thumb still on your clit.

You squirm and whine and push his hand away, fully satisfied.

Sicheng moves away, and you scoot up away from the edge of the bed. You hear him disposing of the condom, and you make room as he comes over and flops down into the bed as well.

The apartment is silent for a few moments as you both catch your breath and bask in the sweet afterglow of that amazing orgasm. Maybe it’s just because of your secret feelings for him, but that sex was fantastic. Better than how friends fuck. You can’t believe he thinks that you’re friends when you want to be so much more.

“Did you mean what you said earlier?” You ask him. Your mind is moving fifty miles an hour but your body is firmly planted here in bed beside Sicheng. Just like two hours ago, you weren’t sure you were more than just a classmate to him. But then he’d introduced you to Lucas as his friend. Is that what you are? “Are we friends?”

Sicheng reaches down to pull the sheets up to his waist. “Yeah, I think so. I enjoy talking to you, hanging out with you. Is.... does this change things for you?” He gestures between your two bare bodies. 

“It doesn’t have to.” You stare up at the ceiling, your heart aching minutely in your chest. “We can be friends, Sicheng. Even if we’ve just fucked.”

“That’s really not what I intended when I asked you over to study.” He sighs, stretching his arms over his head. “I, uh, sorry.”

“That was good.” You roll over onto your stomach and look at him, ignoring the swoopy feeling in your belly as you look down at his pretty face. “Care to do it again?”

Sicheng blinks up at you. “Now?”

“Now, later. Tomorrow. Whenever.” You put a hand on his stomach, start to trail it lower. Sicheng’s eyelids flutter.

And then you hear the front door open. 

Sicheng swears, sliding out of bed, grabbing up whatever clothes he can reach, and he tosses them in your direction. You dress quickly, exchanging some of the clothes he hands you for the ones that are actually yours, and then you step out of his bedroom, making for the front door.

And you’re nearly there when you spot Lucas standing in the kitchen. You stop, and Sicheng bumps into you.

“Good study session?” Lucas smirks, looking over the pair of you. Self-consciously you run a hand over your hair, smoothing down any strays. “Sorry my dinner plans ran over.” 

You grab your bag from where it still sits on the kitchen table, dragging it onto your shoulder, and you hurry towards the door. 

“See you around! Nice to meet you!” Lucas calls out.

“I’ll see you in class tomorrow!” Sicheng says right before you step out their apartment door. Right before the door closes, you hear a something that sounds suspiciously like Sicheng punching Lucas and swearing at him. 

Things are perfectly normal. You’re friends. It’s fine.

The next time Sicheng shows up to class, he arrives before you. 

As you drop into the seat beside him, he slides a coffee over to you, which you’re very grateful for because you’d been running late and it had been a late night anyway, so the caffeine boost is exactly what you need. Judging by the circles under his eyes, he had a late night too.

He yawns, taps the end of his pen against his notebook. When he smiles over at you halfway through class, your heart does a funny little skip. When he reaches over while your professor has her back turned, he doodles in the margins of your notebook paper, his arm brushes against yours as he pulls away.

It’s just a little sun there on the page, but you swear you can feel the light of that little sun burning in your chest.

You flip the page, and ignore that ember inside you, the one Sicheng put there.

Every little thing he does feels significant. You’re in love, even though you know it’s stupid. You look at him and you know he only sees you as a friend. He’s too busy for anything else. You study together, you grab food and coffee together, you introduce him to your friends, and invite him to parties (although he can’t go, the invitation is what matters). 

There comes an evening, after your classes are through, after he’s done with his schedules for the day, and you meet up to drink and eat barbecue. It’s been a long day. Your day was filled with a morning shift at work, and then two exams, and an intense lab session. Sicheng’s day was a photoshoot early that morning, followed by recording for a few hours, and then dance practice for a few more. 

Right now you can tell that he’s come straight from practice. His hair is down, all soft and messy, and his cheeks are still flushed, his sweatshirt does little to mask the fact that there is sweat drying on his neck. 

He looks a mess, but you like him like that. Casual and simple, not trying to be anything that he’s not. 

His phone rings when you’ve been there for a while, and Sicheng ignores it, flips his phone over to hide the screen, but it rings again a moment later. 

“You can answer it,” You nod at the phone. “Someone wants to talk to you.”

He glances at it. “It’s just Lucas. He’s probably mad I didn’t invite him. He knows I’m with you.”

There’s a strange tone to his voice when he says that, but you don’t get the chance to ask him about it because his phone starts ringing for a third time. Sicheng swears and answers it, putting it on speaker so he can continue eating.

“What, Lucas?” He stuffs a mouthful of beef between his lips. 

The line buzzes in silence for a moment and then Lucas says, “You sound annoyed. I didn’t interrupt the two of you totally not having sex again, did I?” His voice is heavily sarcastic. 

Sicheng makes a face, startled and in disbelief at Lucas’s words. He drops his chopsticks and snatches up his phone instead, turning off speaker as he lifts it to his ear. He half turns away, hiding his mouth from your sight as he quietly and hurriedly converses with Lucas.

You feel hot, so to cool down, you take the bottle in front of you and tip it back until it’s empty and the heat inside of you is tamed down to something tolerable. Though now, with the boost of the alcohol, your mind races--flashes of that day with Sicheng, his plush lips and his hands and his cock.

You clear your throat and busy yourself with eating, pretending that you’re not having vivid fantasies about the man sitting across from you. 

He ends the call with Lucas, and just as you’d done, he reaches for the unopened bottle, opens it quickly, and drinks half of it in one go. He makes a face, scrunches his nose up so adorably that you almost reach across the table right then to call him cute. 

Instead, you avoid eye contact, continue eating, and pretend that the last few minutes never happened. You drink, you eat, and you talk to Sicheng without looking him directly in the eye until you have enough drink in your system to encourage you. 

When the pair of you have cleared away all the food on the table, drunk the last drops from the bottles, you rise from the table and Sicheng pays for the meal (even though you’ve insisted you pay, he tells you that he wants to pay, it makes him happy to be able to). 

You leave the restaurant together, your shoulders bumping, and you know there’s a foolish smile on your lips, your cheeks warm from the drink and the proximity to him. Once you’re outside, standing to the side of the entrance, you stop.

This is the part where you go your own ways. You go home to your empty apartment. You shower, drink some water, and go to sleep to dream of Sicheng. Sicheng goes back to his dorm and he sinks into sleep, which you can only hope would be occupied with dreams of you, though as you look at him, you doubt that. You don’t want to go home alone. You don’t want to only be left with dreams of him.

“Come drink with me,” You smile, reaching for his hand. “Come back to mine, Sicheng.” His name is syrupy sweet on your tongue, and you say it again. “Sicheng. Sicheng.” 

He cups your cheek. “You just want to sleep with me again, isn’t that it? Ever since Lucas said that earlier, you’ve been acting funny.” 

“And if I do?” You challenge. “Don’t you? You’re not getting release anywhere else, are you? And a pretty boy like you? You’ve got to have your needs. Let me help you.” You step as close as you can, and when you touch him so lightly over the pants, he groans. 

“We’re in public. Don’t.” He nudges you back, looking around to make sure that no one was looking. There’s no one else around.

It’s late and dark out. A light mist has started falling, and anyone that does pass by has their head ducked, a hood or umbrella shielding their faces.

“Sicheng.” You sigh his name, your hands sliding up over his chest, and you tangle your fingers in the edge of his hood. You pull it up, hiding his face within its shadow. “Dong Sicheng, I want to feel you inside me again. Don’t you want that too?”

He sucks his bottom lip into his mouth. There’s pink high on his cheeks, only growing pinker from the chill in the air and the way your body presses against his and the way you’re looking at him. 

“I can’t be what you want me to be.” His words are quiet. “I can’t be your boyfriend. I see how you look at me, and I--”

You push up onto your toes, your fingers tight on his hood, and you kiss him. 

“Come home with me. I just want to feel you.” You murmur against his lips, kissing him again. 

Sicheng sighs your name, and it sounds so sad. “You want more from me, and I can’t give it to you.”

You push against his chest. “I just want you.”

Twenty minutes later, he has you pressed to the inside of the door of your apartment. This time he doesn’t push you away when you touch him, he drops his head back and groans such a sweet sound. 

He stumbles back when you push him, moving him backwards until he collapses onto your sofa, and you drop to your knees. 

You waste not a moment, getting his dick out, you take him into your mouth, press your face into his lap and gag around him as he hits the back of your throat. The heat of your mouth around his cock, so wet and tight as you suck on your way back up. 

He gathers your hair into a ponytail at the back of your head, using it to drag you back down.

You drool down his cock, gag some more, and then push yourself up, wrapping your hand around him instead. You press a little kiss just under the head, stroke your thumb down the underside, along a vein. “You deserve to get your dick sucked, you know that?”

“Do I?” He laughs, twisting your ponytail around his fingers. “Why?”

“Because you’re so handsome.” You kiss the tip, your tongue dipping briefly into his slit. “You’ve been working so hard, between your career and school.” You wrap your lips around him and suck, licking up the drops of salty precum that leak out, and then you lift your gaze to his face and tell him, “And a penis like this one? It would be a damn shame for it to go unsucked.”

“Then you’d better keep sucking it, hadn’t you?” Sicheng pushes gently against the back of your head. 

You hum in agreement, and dip your head, getting to work on pleasing him. He’s easy enough to please. 

Sicheng doesn’t moan, doesn’t really make much noise at all, but when you start jerking him onto the flat of your tongue he swears, “Fuck.”

He cums, tightening his hold on your hair, pushing his dick into your mouth, coating your tongue with his load. It oozes out over your lips, drips down your chin, and Sicheng pulls you down and he pushes deeper, and you choke around him, attempting to swallow but he makes it so difficult.

You reach up and touch his wrist, and Sicheng lets go of your hair and you pull back and drop your face to his thigh, wipe your cum-covered lips on the soft material of his sweatpants, which he immediately protests, but it’s too late for him to do anything about it.

You laugh and rise to your feet, wanting to brush your teeth to get rid of the gross taste of semen on your tongue, but Sicheng snatches for your hand.

“Where are you going?” He attempts to draw you into his lap.

“To brush my teeth. Rinse my mouth out.” You shake his hand off, but Sicheng stands and follows you toward your bathroom. 

“Does it really taste that bad?” He mumbles, curious but also slightly offended.

You choose not to answer.

You catch him looking around, for the first time paying attention to his surroundings, and you feel a bit self-conscious about your small apartment. It’s a bit cluttered because you didn’t expect you’d be bringing anyone over today. You bump into a wall, still feeling fairly tipsy. The photos hanging on that wall rattle, and Sicheng reaches over to steady you, but then he looks at the frames.

“Is this you?” He touches the frame right behind your head. You tilt your head back to be able to see which one he’s talking about. It’s a photo of you as a kid, all dressed up for some event that you’ve forgotten, but also you’re just making a face at the camera, your arm slung around your best friend’s shoulders while she smiles sweetly at the camera. “You’re cute.”

“I was a disaster. Still am a bit of one.” You continue your walk to the bathroom, and Sicheng slowly makes his way along behind you, taking his time looking at your photos. 

You’re gagging around your toothbrush, scrubbing the back of your tongue, when Sicheng finally curls around the bathroom doorway, pressing his cheek to the wall and checking out your reflection in the mirror. You catch his eyes in the reflection, those two deep pools of warmth.

“Do you have plans this weekend?” He asks, never taking his eyes from yours. 

You look away, ducking your head to spit out your toothpaste and quickly rinse with a mouthful of bitingly cold water that tingles after the mintiness of your toothpaste. A section of your hair slips of your shoulder, swinging down in front of your face, and before you can move to brush it back into place, Sicheng’s fingers are there.

With his fingers tucking your hair behind your ear, you straighten.

“Why do you want to know if I have plans?” You search his face.

His eyelids flutter, his long eyelashes kiss his cheekbones and stay lowered like that, watching your mouth.

“Sicheng?”

He suddenly dips forward. His hands smoothly cup your jaw, and then his lips capture yours, his tongue parting your lips to kiss that mint fresh flavor from your mouth. 

The edge of the sink digs into your back as Sicheng backs you into it, his hips pressing against you. You put a hand on his side, his heart beats rapidly, and you moan and slide your hand down to the hem of his shirt, dipping your fingers under the edge so that you can feel the heat of his skin. 

His thigh fits between yours, pressing up against your legs, and you find yourself grinding down on it. You clutch at his waist with both hands and moan into his mouth. Sicheng just holds your mouth to his and kisses the breath from your lungs as you rub yourself against his thigh, the nice warm buzzing pleasure filling you nicely, tingling in all the right places, gasps and moans and little whines spilling onto his tongue.

It feels so fucking amazing to get yourself off on his thigh like this. His breathing hitches too, his fingers shifting against your cheeks, and he gently sucks on your tongue.

Your heart is racing, your skin feels so sensitive--every instance of contact between you and him burns and tingles in the best way--and when you grind your clothed clit down, you feel the push and the pull in your gut and wish you were riding his cock, and just that very thought of his long, perfect cock inside you as your hips dip forward pushes you finally into that bliss of your orgasm.

Everything feels light and honey-golden and silvery and sweet blushed pink. Sicheng breaks the kiss as your breath skips, your nails dig into his sides under the sweatshirt, and you feel the warm gush of your pussy in your panties. Your mind spins, and it takes you a few seconds to gather yourself back together enough that you can actually see him again right there, inches in front of your face. 

He blinks at you for a long moment, and then he takes a step back, putting some space between you and him, tugging at the bottom of his sweatshirt.

Your hand falls back to your side and your knees feel wobbly and your cheeks and lips and really actually all of you feels cold without him pressed up against you. Sicheng sucks his bottom lip into his mouth and drops his gaze to the floor.

“Sorry, I think I’m actually more drunk than I thought.” He ruffles his fringe, shaking his head. 

“You can stay here tonight. It would be silly for you to try to find your way home this late.” You step around him. “I’m gonna get some water, the room’s right there.” You point at the doorway across from the bathroom. 

As you turn down the hall and head for the kitchen, Sicheng opens the door to your bedroom and disappears inside. You silently pray that you don’t have anything embarrassing sitting out. 

You fill one glass for yourself, draining the whole thing right then and there, and then you refill it and grab one for Sicheng as well.

He’s already in bed when you step inside. Curled up on his side with his arm tucked up under his pillow. He sits up when you hold out the glass to him. His clothes are folded at the foot of the bed, and you quickly slip out of your clothes, sip at your glass of water, and then get in on the other side of the bed.

The way that your mattress is, you end up sinking toward the middle of the bed, as does Sicheng, so you’re tucked against his side, and it’s all much more intimate than two people who are pretending that there’s nothing between them are supposed to be. This intimacy isn’t supposed to be a thing, just sex.

But the intimacy is there. Eyes burning bright even in the dark.

“You never told me about your plans this weekend.” His voice is so quiet.

“I don’t have any. Why?” 

Your mind whispers about a date, but the more reasonable part of you remembers what he said earlier, and you know that Sicheng won’t give himself to you in that way.

“I have a photoshoot out of town. We’re going to Jeju Island, and I know you said you’ve been wanting to go there for a little while.” He shifts, and that one little move has you falling toward him, mentally cursing your shitty mattress. “Do you want to come with me?”

“Yes.” The word falls from your lips almost without hesitation or a second of thought. You have been wanting to go there, but that’s not why you say yes so quickly. You would go anywhere he asked you, and you realize that is ridiculous, but the truth of that thrums inside you with every beat of your heart.

In the dark, you barely see him nodding. It’s a feeling more than a seen thing. And then he whispers, “Okay. We can talk about it more tomorrow.” He yawns. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.” 

Sicheng’s breathing evens out, sleep claiming him within a few minutes. His face is right beside yours, sleepy breathing fluttering your hair. His fingers rest against yours, not purposeful in the slightest, but it would take almost nothing for you to twist your fingers with his. 

You squeeze your eyes shut and will yourself to sleep.

From the way that Lucas is looking at you, you know that he one hundred percent knows that there’s definitely more to you and Sicheng than just friends from school who study together. He keeps looking at you, so you stay close to Sicheng’s side and pretend like you don’t notice.

For the first bit of the journey that’s not too difficult to do. You busy yourself with some schoolwork, and then when that’s done, you take a nap with your head resting on Sicheng’s shoulder. But when you wake up, your head is bowed forward and he’s leaning away from you while talking to Kun.

You pretend that you didn’t notice.

As soon as you all arrive on Jeju, everyone heads to the hotel where they’ll be staying for that night and the following day. The guys are immediately taken to be made up and styled, and you head down to the beach that’s right across the road to wait. 

The weather’s warm, nice and sunny with a slight breeze coming off the water, and you make it just down to the sand, the warmth of it radiating under your feet, and the water’s edge is just a few feet away, so you sit there in the sand, basking in the sunlight for an unknown amount of time until a shadow falls over you.

“You’re going to get sunburnt.” Sicheng tells you, extending a hand down to you. You accept it, and he helps you to your feet. 

Despite the nice weather, the beach isn’t too busy, which you suppose is a good thing considering the entourage parading down the steps onto the sand, toting cameras and umbrellas and all sorts of things necessary for a photoshoot. It’s a gorgeous location for a photoshoot, the crystalline blue of the water and dark rock and white sand.

Sicheng looks absolutely gorgeous as well, and it takes everything in you to keep your hands off of him when he returns to your side after he’s done getting his photo taken with Hendery. You wander along the beach together, following the procession up and down the shore, kicking up sand and sea water until the sun grows too warm and you feel sleepy.

Sicheng’s part of the shoot is done, at least for a few more hours, so the pair of you return to the hotel, grateful that everyone else stays out on the beach. 

You’re barely inside the room before you’re tearing each other’s clothes off, Sicheng sucking a mark against your throat, growling something about “maybe Xuxi will stop thinking he can steal you away,” which you brush off because at that moment he slides his fingers inside you.

He fucks you roughly, and it feels so good. The headboard smacks against the wall, the sunlight burns through the window, making your skin slippery with sweat and sun lotion, and you nails drag down Sicheng’s back, heels knocking against his ass. You haven’t had him like this in a while. Recently your time together has been filled with quickies or blowjobs, whatever you can squeeze in between classes and schedules.

So to take your time together now, having it the way you like it. You love it. 

“Shit, you feel so good.” You gasp, clenching around him, squeezing your legs against his hips when he fucks right against your G-spot. “Sicheng, your cock is just...” Your words fall away, swallowed by a gasp and a moan and his kiss.

He rubs his thumb against your clit, holding himself up to look down at you as he fucks you and touches you, trying to push you to cum before him. 

You press your forehead into his cheek, moaning lowly as you squeeze your arms and legs and pussy around him, your orgasm rocking through you. 

Sicheng pulls out, and you swear at him. “I want you inside me. Stay inside me.”

“No, I want to get you off as many times as I can before they call me back for the photoshoot.” He kisses your chest, your belly, all the way down until your can feel his breath against your wetness. Sicheng has never eaten you out. In all your time messing around, he’s not done it and that was okay with you, but now that he’s offering it up, you want it more than you can believe.

The first hesitant touch of his lips, just a gentle kiss there against your clit, and you’re still so sensitive from that last orgasm he just gave you, that now as he kisses you down there so lightly your legs shudder and move to close.

Sicheng puts his hands on your thighs, spreading them apart, keeping them open as he licks you up. You touch his hair, tugging until he moans. His hips drop against the bed, his hard cock rubbing against the sheets, and you cant your hips against his face.

Despite him never doing this for you, Sicheng is incredibly talented. The way he moves his tongue and just generally uses his mouth on you brings you crashing right over into your orgasm again. 

You drag him away from what he’s doing, touching his jaw and his neck and his hair until his hips are fitted against yours again and his mouth hovers right above yours. He kisses you carefully, as if worried that you’re going to be repulsed by your own taste, but you don’t mind it at all. You moan and lick your own taste from his tongue, and Sicheng squirms until his cock slips back inside you again. 

“You’re very good at that.” You gasp, grasping at him as he sinks forward and then turns over, spinning you over top of him as well so you’re sitting on his cock. “Been practicing your oral on someone else, have you?”

“No one but you.” His hands settle on your hips. “I don’t do that much at all ever. With anyone. But you--” Sicheng helps you rock your hips on him, and his eyes lock on yours. “It’s taken me a long time to do that for you, but if you enjoyed it that much, maybe I should do it again?”

“Not now.” You place your hands flat on his chest, working your pussy up and down his cock. “Now, I want you to cum, Sicheng. You treat me so well, but it’s your turn. You deserve to feel good, to relax. Cum for me, and then let’s take a nap.”

He smiles and bucks up into you as you squeeze around him. “Sounds like a plan.”

Sicheng drags your mouth to his, sitting up to meet you halfway, and you ride him, the heat of the sun and the exertion of your body moving on top of his has sweat dripping between you, gathering in the crease of your elbows and behind your knees, and Sicheng fills you with his hot cum.

Everything is sticky and hot and pleasurable, and Sicheng holds you close, kisses you deep, pulls you down onto him until there’s not a breath of space between you. 

Carefully, without slipping out of you, Sicheng rolls you back over onto your back. He starts to move again, as if to try to give you your third orgasm, but you don’t want it, you’re very satisfied with the state of things right now.

You pat his hip and nudge your forehead against his cheek. “You don’t have to do that. I’m fine. Let’s nap, right?”

Sicheng makes a soft noise, sinking into the warmth of the sunlit bedsheets beside you. His bare back gleams golden, striped with shadows, and as you roll onto your side to look at him, Sicheng smiles. “Just a little nap. I’m sorry about those, by the way.” His touch is so gentle where he touches the hickeys he left on your throat. 

“Nothing I can’t cover up.” 

He closes his eyes, and falls asleep a few moments later, his breath evening out. You don’t fall asleep, you lie there and try to not creepily stare at him, but it’s difficult to not admire the lines of his beauty, to trace the shadows and highlights on his face. 

At one point, he reaches over, drapes an arm over your waist and scoots closer to you, snuggling right up to you. 

And there it is. An ache in your chest inspired by this man holding you in his arms, by the love you feel for him. 

The peacefulness ends with a sharp knock on the door, a call of “WinWin, time for your next shoot!” 

He shifts and groans, but doesn’t really make any move to get up. You put a hand on his back, stroke down the sun-hot line of his spine. 

“Sicheng, you’ve got to get up.” It takes a few more moments of prodding, and he’s up and you both get dressed, and return to the warmth of the beach for his photo to be taken.

You avoid Lucas’s gaze, and when he comes to sit beside you, you pretend that you’ve not just been staring at Sicheng.

“Nice hickeys.” Lucas says. “You and WinWin, that’s really... really gonna keep happening, huh?”

You nod. “I mean, I hope so. It’s good.”

Lucas bites his lip and bobs his head. “So I guess I have no chance then? After that first time you came over, he told me that it was just a one time thing, that you really were just friends from school. I thought maybe I stood a chance at getting you to fancy me. He knew it, too. But I guess, this isn’t coming to an end any time soon, is it? You like him?” 

“Of course I like him.” You smile, dig your toes into the sand as if you could just dissolve into it and end this conversation. Talking about your feelings for Sicheng with one of his closest friends before you’ve talked about it with him seems silly and embarrassing. 

“I won’t tell him, if that’s what you’re worried about.” Lucas stands up then. “I’d better go. Be careful you don’t burn. WinWin already did enough damage to you.” He gestures to your throat again, laughs, and walks over to Xiaojun and Kun to joke around with them.

You sit there alone in the sand for a little while longer, before the sun gets to you, and you seek the shade where the boys and some of their staff members all huddle between individual shoots. 

The day soon draws to a close and in the sinking of the sun toward the horizon, the photoshoot is called to an end for the day, though the second part will begin bright and early the next morning.

“Wait.” You grab Sicheng’s arm before he can start back toward the hotel like the others. YangYang and Ten are already racing back across the beach, and Xiaojun is quick behind them. But you’re not ready to go back there just yet. There’s still at least an hour or two before the sun fully sets, and there’s still more of this beach for you to explore. There’s been a spot on a hill just a short walk away that you’ve had your eye on all day, and now here’s your chance. 

As soon as you tell him all of that, Sicheng agrees. He catches their manager’s attention, tells him the plan, and then the pair of you set off with just the simple warning, “It’s an early morning, so don’t stay out too long. And please, be careful. Don’t break anything.”

The more the sun sinks, the cooler the breeze from the sea grows, and soon you’re shivering. Sicheng casually drapes his arm over your shoulders. You cross by a second beach and finally start the climb up the hill. Most of the traffic on the path is heading the opposite direction, but now you can see that there’s going to be a beautiful view of the sunset from the top of the hill. 

At least the hike up warms you more, and the higher you climb, you realize that it is really just you and Sicheng on the hill, the rest of the crowd passes you by on their way down and the path heading up is clear. 

“Is it everything you imagined?” Sicheng asks, panting slightly as you reach a level part of the path. 

The sunset bursts across the sky, rich pinks and purples, vibrant oranges and a dash of golden yellow to the west, stretching toward the east which is velvet blue striped with purplish clouds. Up on the hill, it’s quiet except for the crashing of the waves on the rocks below the path and the chirping of crickets. You sigh at the sight, and then you look around for a place to sit down for a second to rest your aching legs.

There’s a few covered bench seats up a short offshoot of the path, and you turn to Sicheng to suggest making it just up there. But you’re struck absolutely breathless at the sight of him.

If you thought the sunset was beautiful, it’s nothing compared to the man beside you. The way that the sky’s light paints his skin with its vibrant colors, the wind runs its fingers through his hair, and a carefree smile sits loosely on his lips as he looks over at you.

“What?” He touches his face cautiously. “Do I have something on my face?”

“No, just the light. You’re stunning, Dong Sicheng.”

His face earns more color from your comment, and he ducks his head, rubs a hand over the back of his neck. “Not too bad yourself, you know. Come on, let’s keep moving.”

You loop your arm around his, walking close to his side to protect yourself from the breeze, guiding him up the path’s offshoot and over toward the benches. “I just want a little rest. Then we can head back down, grab something to eat, and turn in for the night. Early morning and all that.”

Sicheng snorts a laugh. “That’s just shit. It won’t really be an early morning. Nine o’clock at the earliest. We’ve got all night.” 

“All night for what, hmm?” You lean against his shoulder again, and this time Sicheng doesn’t shrink away. In fact he draws you in closer. 

“For anything you want.” Sicheng holds your gaze, and you want to sink forward, collapse against him, and pour your heart out. You want him to kiss you, to touch you, to love you and never stop. And the way he looks at you makes you feel weak and fluttery, so you instead of sinking or collapsing or pouring your heart out, you touch his cheek and direct his gaze toward the sunset.

He smiles and breathes out a laugh, yet still turns back to you. His hand comes up to cover yours against his cheek.

“Sicheng.” You love the way his name feels on your tongue, the way it fits from between your lips. Judging by the look on his face, he likes it too.

Your name leaves his lips in just as tender a manner, and then he kisses you.

This kiss is as soft and mild as you’ve ever had. There’s no urgency to it, just patience and enjoyment and peace. His hand on yours holds tighter, pulling your hand down to rest in his lap. Warmth blossoms inside you, the heat of the kiss and the emotions you feel for this man, and the gentle burn of the fading sunlight as it embraces the horizon before slipping, at last, below. 

Sicheng breaks the kiss first, but he places smaller, softer kisses to your mouth, then your cheeks before he just rests his head against yours and the silence of the fallen night envelopes you.

“Is this-- Was this like a date?” You heart throbs in your chest as you voice your question. It felt like a date. The way he asked you to come to the island with him, the way that he’s been sitting here with his arm around you, looking at you with such softness. The way he kissed you just now.

You want it to be a date more than anything else. You want him. You love him. As more than just a friend, as more than just someone to have sex with.

Sicheng sits up, pulling away until you feel the sudden chill. “Uh, no. This isn’t a date. We’re just friends, right?”

You push to your feet, and stare out at the sea, the city lights.Tears brim in your eyes, making the world blur into blue and gold, and the emotions swell inside you until you can’t hold back the words anymore, and they all coming flowing out at once. 

“Why do you keep doing this to me? Why do you ask me to go places with you and do things with you? Why do you keep kissing me and fucking me and making me think that this could be more, but then you just turn around and tell me that we can’t have what I want, what you damn well know that I want? I’m in love with you Dong Sicheng, and sometimes I feel like I’m just a cunt for you to use when you’re feeling a bit lonely in your ivory tower. So why do you keep doing this to me?”

“Because I like having you around!” Sicheng’s words are loud, but he shrinks into himself as he shouts them and they’re quickly swallowed by the depth of the stars before you. “I like the way you make me feel! I like making you smile, hearing you say my name and the way you laugh. When you touch me I swear my heart races every time. Being with you makes me feel the happiest I feel anymore, and I feel stupid and selfish for wanting to be around you all the time, but I see how happy you are when you’re with me too so I can’t stop doing this because I feel like we’re both relying on each other to keep our world’s whole. You keep me balanced and in one piece, and I’m sorry that I can’t do more for you. I’m sorry that I can’t be your world, I can only be a moon, caught in your orbit, here sometimes and fading and gone other times, and I’m just sorry. I want to be in love with you too, but I can’t afford it for myself. I feel like if I let myself fall I would destroy myself trying to make it work. I have my career and I have my private life and the two can’t coexist. Maybe someday. But not today.”

Your chest feels like it’s crumpling, caving in. It’s hard to breathe and it aches, and you bring your arms up over your heart and sink down to your heels, tucking your fists against your face. You don’t want to hear anymore.

You want the crashing of the waves and the chirping of the bugs in the night to swallow you whole, the grasses and flowers to cover you until you’re no more. 

You crave him. You let your stupid heart be pierced by an arrow inscribed with Dong Sicheng and now you’re bleeding out and it fucking hurts.

“That’s not enough. Someday isn’t enough. I’m not a hold over until you decide that I’m not right for you. I’m not someone to fill your bed until you find someone who you like more.” You press your knuckles between your teeth. 

“I know that.” He appears beside you, sinking down to kneel on the ground. He carefully pulls your hand away from your mouth, holding it between both of his with his thumb rubbing soothingly over the indentations of your teeth on your knuckles. “I don’t want you to feel like you’re second best or that I don’t want you. I just can’t let myself fall in love right now. But if I did for anyone, it would be you.”

It’s still not good enough, and you both know it.

Sitting there in the silence for a few more minutes, you calm yourself down, and rise to your feet again. Sicheng stands as well. The walk back down the hill is silent, and its only when you’re nearing the hotel again that Sicheng speaks to ask you if you want to grab something to eat now or order room service. You choose room service and return to the room that you’re sharing with him. 

He goes to shower, and you sink into bed, ready to fall asleep and forget. 

You’re almost asleep when the bathroom door opens, casting a bolt of light across the room for a second. Sicheng hesitates for a moment before he slides in on the other side of the bed. You feel a chill even as you’re buried under the covers, so you purposely slide closer to him, knowing this is a bad idea even as you do it. 

Sicheng tries to move away again, but you whine and touch his arm, tugging lightly. 

“Stop it. I’m cold.” You mumble, snuggling closer. “Keep me warm, and maybe I’ll consider forgiving you.”

Sicheng sighs, relaxing against you. His head rests against yours, his words so soft that you barely catch them. “I’m so sorry.”

You know he’s not in love with you. He knows that you are very much head-over-heels in love with him. And you still let him fuck you anyway. Knowing that this is never going to end happy, not the way you want it. He’s just gonna kiss you, fuck you, leave you wanting more as he walks out that door and disappears until the next time he craves sexual release.

Sicheng is an addiction you can’t break. 

He seems to think that everything is still fine. That you’re still just friends with benefits and that you’re perfectly fine with it. He invites you over, and you fuck. He comes over to your place, fingers you on the sofa and eats dinner with you before you get each other off again. You keep coming back even though it hurts.

You could end it all, but you hate to lose him. Having him like this is better than nothing at all. 

“Do you mean it this time?” You ask as he cradles your face between his hands, your lips just millimeters from touching his. You want it so badly to mean something, this closeness to him when he met you in the hall outside of one of your classes, and heavily suggested that he wanted to fuck you as soon as possible.

So here you are, back at your apartment.

Sicheng’s gaze flicks down to your lips then back to your eyes. He doesn’t answer your question, he just kisses you, presses you back against the door until your fumbling fingers find the knob and you both fall inside.

You have sex against the door, stumble to the sofa to do it again. Sicheng lifts you in his arms, carries you to your bedroom, buries himself inside you like he can hide away everything if he just fucks you hard enough.

He bites down on the junction of your neck and shoulder, and you wrap your arms around him and hold him close, and as your orgasm pours through you, you let “I love you” spill from your lips softly. Sicheng doesn’t acknowledge you said anything, he just holds tighter, pushes deeper inside you until you feel melded together.

You stroke the back of his neck where his hair feathers down. 

He groans and cums, leaves the bed to dispose of the condom, and after a handful of minutes you realize he’s not coming back. 

And it goes on like this. You fuck. You tell him you love him. He leaves until he wants you again and again. 

Eventually you attempt to move on. 

You used to fall in love so easily. The guy in the coffee shop who had the sweet smile. The Professor’s assistant for your 8 am class with the deep laugh and the large hands. 

At one point, you would’ve fallen for them in an instant, but now Sicheng stains everything. You see the coffee guy’s smile, and remember Sicheng’s smile when you told him a joke or when you gazed out at the sunset together on Jeju. You look at the assistant and his pretty hands, and you think about Sicheng’s hands on your body.

You’ve fallen in love a thousand times since you arrived at university, but unfortunately it only stuck the once. 

Even after the semester ends, after Sicheng isn’t even enrolled to take physical classes anymore, after he stops using you as a booty call, you’re still in love with him. You miss him entirely. The friendship, his laugh, the way he smiled and touched you, the sex, the way he thought and would tell you his thoughts when you lay in bed together. 

The thing that sucks the most about all this is that you can’t even be mad at him. It’s not Sicheng’s fault. I mean, okay, it might be a little bit his fault. But it is mostly yours. You fell for him, you kept going back to him knowing that he didn’t love you--wouldn’t love you, couldn’t love you. 

It hurts for a long time, but eventually you move on. You fall in love again and again, and still none of them stick. They come and go, but none of them mean as much to you as Sicheng did.

Years later, you find yourself in China on business. 

You would think in a city of 22 million people, your chances of running into the one man you once loved would be almost impossible. But your luck isn’t that good, so of course you see him. 

It’s been years, and though you’ve tried to forget him, you’ve seen his career continue. Albums, films, success. You’ve heard the songs, seen the passion in his acting. It was hard to not feel happy for him and proud, even with everything that happened. But now, sitting in a cafe in Beijing, you spot his face again.

On an advert across the street, there is his smiling face.

Dong Sicheng.

You wonder if he ever thinks about you.

A gaggle of giggling girls brushes by your table, and you follow them with your eyes, watching where they end up. A table in the back corner, a man with a hat pulled low and a mask tugged down under his chin. He smiles at the girls who gather around him, fans of him you suppose, and when they have their fill of photos and giggling at him, they disperse.

While he’s still looking up, his eyes lock on yours.

Dong Sicheng.

His eyes go wide. You look away, back at your coffee.

Maybe if you pretend you didn’t see him, he won’t have actually seen you. Maybe if you ignore him, you can remain in blissful ignorance of the one man in this city of 22 million that you didn’t want to see.

Your phone buzzes against the table and when you turn it over, there’s a message there from a number you haven’t seen in ages, a number that you still have memorized nevertheless.

Are you really in Beijing right now?

You consider pretending that you didn’t read the message. You could scroll through your phone as if that’s all you were doing. You could just get up and leave.

I know you saw it.

It takes everything in you to not glance over to the corner. You can feel him watching you.

You suck in a deep breath and quickly type out, What do you want?

Now you look at him and he’s looking at you. He glances down briefly and then your phone vibrates in your hands again. It’s just one word.

A bolt of emotions, sharp as an arrow, just as painful and exhilarating.

You.

You stand up, push away from the table, grab your bag and leave. You could head back to your hotel, but instead you wander the wrong way down the street. Your head is spinning. Dong Sicheng, he remembers you, he wants you. He’s an asshole for doing this to you after so long.

“Wait!” His voice swirls around you, inside you, and you do stop. You feel a hand on your arm, and you turn around to face Sicheng.

“What do you want?” You ask him again. 

Sicheng stands before you, just as handsome as the last day you saw him. There’s a dull aching in your chest, as if he’s reaching inside your chest, prying your ribs apart, and putting his hands on your heart again.

“To apologize. For everything.” He ducks his head a bit. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t do that.” You reach up, touch his chin, tilt his face up so he actually meets your gaze. “Look me in the eye and apologize.”

“I’m sorry.” His gaze bores into yours. “I’m sorry for not loving you the way you wanted to be loved. I’m sorry for walking away from you years ago. I’m sorry that I denied everything I felt for you, except to express it physically. I’m sorry that I know I hurt you, but I did it anyway, and I’m sorry that I saw you today and now I don’t think I can let you go again.”

So don’t, you want to say to him. Hold me tight, love me, and never let me go.

The years vanish and suddenly it’s just you and Sicheng again. You’re on a crowded street in Beijing, but for that single moment you think you could be standing in a Jeju sunset, you could be tangled in bed, seated beside each other in a university classroom. Like nothing has changed.

He touches your cheek so gently. Your fingertips pulse and tingle with the need to touch him too. The wind whips your hair against your cheeks, and you step closer, seeking the heat of him, the comfort.

“Come home with me?” He asks.

Maybe it’s foolish, but you agree. You cling to his hand and let him lead you away back down the street, lead you by the cafe, down the street to a car. He opens the door for you.

“You drive now?” You ask, sliding into the passenger seat. It’s a nice car, one befitting a celebrity of his status. He comes around the other side, fits into the driver’s seat perfectly, and starts it up, pulls away.

There’s nothing much to say as Sicheng drives you through the streets. The radio fills the car with noise, and outside evening sets in until the sky grows a muted gray-blue, and the streets glow with neon lights. It all flashes by, almost disorienting, and it doesn’t help that your mind and your heart thunder inside you, your hands brushing nervously over your thighs.

Sicheng reaches over at one point, removing one hand from the wheel to cover your hand on your thigh. His fingertips touch the back of your wrist, and when you flip your hand over, he fits his fingers just-so between yours, not taking his eyes off the road as he brings your joined hands up to his lips. 

“I missed you.” The words fall breathlessly and accidentally from your lips, but Sicheng smiles anyway and lowers your hands to rest on the center console. “I’m so stupid for missing you because of everything, the way things ended, but God, Sicheng, you really imbedded yourself into my life so thoroughly back then, you know? I’ve dated multiple guys since then, some of them were really good relationships too, real relationships unlike the thing we had going on. But none of them could quite measure up to the way I felt about you. And I’m a fool for it.”

You rest your head back against the seat, facing him, watching the way that the streetlights shine over his cheekbones, highlighting his profile. His eyes dart around, watching the cars around him. He looks so calm and assured, so attractive, that you fight down the urge to loosen your hand from his so you can touch him, palm him right there in the driver’s seat.

Luckily it’s only a few more moments before he’s putting the car in park, shutting it off, and opening the door of the car for you, offering his hand to help you out.

You place your hand in his, loving the familiarity of that even with all of these years in between. The gentle roughness of his palms, the amount of pressure his fingers give to your wrist. Sicheng pulls you right up out of the car, into his arms, and into a kiss.

You loop an arm around his neck, lifting up on your toes, not minding when he presses you against the car’s door, his kiss searing, and his body against yours. You want him still closer.

He sweeps you away from the car, and you barely break the kiss, stumbling where he guides you, his hands on your hips, your feet tangling together with his. You nearly trip up a short flight of stairs, but Sicheng catches you around the waist, and laughs into your mouth. He lifts you then, his hands under your ass, your legs wind around his hips, and he tilts his chin up as you kiss at his neck while he carries you to his door.

Your legs fall from his hips as he fumbles with his door, your back presses against the surface, and when it swings open, you slip backwards, his arm around your waist to tug you back against him, and his lips are hot on yours again. 

You lose your shoes, your bag, his jacket. They all fall to the floor of the entryway.

An automated lighting system turns on as you move on into the house, intoxicated by his kiss, and an automated voice begins to speak as well, but Sicheng mumbles something that sounds a lot like “Fuck off” and the voice stops. You bury your fingers in his hair, tugging lightly to hear the way he groans so sweetly, you taste his sounds on your tongue and smile at the memories it brings you.

By the time you reach his bed, you’re both undressed save for your underwear, and you quickly step out of them before you crawl backwards onto the bed and Sicheng falls over you, covers you, fills you and holds you in his arms, gazing down at you as he hits home inside you and you can’t bite back a moan. 

It’s so nice to have him back inside you. He fills a place that none of the others before him or since him have.

You draw your hands over his back, feeling the way his body moves as he thrusts inside you, and he lowers his head to your neck, kissing and nipping at your sensitive skin.

“I love this,” you sigh, “I love you.”

He groans and pushes in hard and deep, hammering into you for a moment, biting down on your neck until you’re certain he can feel the way that your heartbeat picks up, your pussy fluttering around him on the verge of your orgasm. But he doesn’t say those words back to you, and right now, more than ever before, you want to hear him say it.

“I love you,” You repeat, and then: “Love me. Look me in the eye, Sicheng, tell me you love me. Or just tell me you don’t love me.” You dig your fingers up into his hair, squeeze your legs against his hips. “Either way I can’t do this anymore. I can’t do this living in unsurety about if these feelings I’ve always had for you are truly reciprocated or not. Tell me the truth, Sicheng.”

He lifts his head. His lips are beautifully swollen and pink and his eyes are wide and dark. His eyes meet yours and your chest burns, your body tingles down to your fingertips and toes, and it’s not an orgasm but something like it--a rush of pure love--when he finally says it.

“I love you.” Sicheng breathes out. “I love you.”

And then the true orgasm breaks through you, taking him with you.

You hold each other as you fall apart in each others arms, and it’s the love shared that makes it more fulfilling than anything else--the way that he tucks himself back against you, his head against your shoulder, his arms wrapped around you while he’s still balls-deep inside you as he rolls onto his side and just gathers you against him. You’re both pressed so entirely together, and in that moment it feels like it would take a Herculean feat to break you apart ever again.

Three years later, you stand on an island shore, holding Dong Sicheng’s hand and gazing out at the sunset, your head on his shoulder, and his baby growing inside you. A summer’s evening breeze makes the flowers around you dance and flutters the skirt of your dress. 

No one knows about the baby yet. Only you. 

You didn’t want any news of the baby to distract from the wedding, which only ended a few handfuls of moments before, a few dozen feet down the beach. You’ve already had your first dance, enjoyed several toasts and bites of cake. But you wanted to sneak away for a private moment with your new husband to enjoy the most gorgeous sunset you’ve seen in years, last viewed with him as well.

His cheek rests against the top of your head, and you bite at your bottom lip nervously, trying to work up the words to speak this baby into reality. Right now it’s only yours, just a little secret warmth in your belly, a dream you dreamt years ago that’s part you and part of the man you love wholeheartedly. To speak it into existence, to bring it from dream into the real world, there’s just one first step to take.

“I have a secret I’ve been keeping all day.” You tell him finally as the setting sun dips through rose and amber.

“Hmm?” Sicheng asks, tipping his head. His lips brush the side of your head. “What’s that? A honeymoon surprise?”

You shrug. “Sort of? But better. This is going to last us much, much longer than our honeymoon. Try forever. Forever’s the most appropriate time span.”

He sits up and looks over at you, curiosity drawing his eyebrows together, creating a faint line between them. “What is it?” His thumbs stroke the back of your hand, held between both of his. 

You smile and lean in, kiss him softly, and against his lips you whisper, “The two most important things in my life from today on is our baby that I carry inside me--” His breath catches, his hands moving immediately to touch your belly although it’s far too early for his fingers to really discern any difference.

“Really?” His drawn brows fade into a beautiful, relieved smile. “Really?”

“Yes!” You nod. “It’s still early, but I’ve taken multiple tests, and they’ve all come back positive.”

Sicheng sweeps you into another kiss, the warmth of the sunset on your cheeks, the sweet song of the wind through the flowers and the sea against the shore, it all feels so perfect.

His forehead dips against yours. “What’s the second thing? The second most important thing in your life after our baby.” He says the word baby with such awe and excitement and happiness that you can’t help but giggle as you run your fingers up into his hair and kiss him again, the answer on your lips.

You.

[The End]

a/n: this was a lot longer than I expected, even though starting out I knew I was going to make it a long one. If you actually stuck around all the way to the end, then thank you and I truly hope that you liked this one! I feel like I, as a nctzen and a writer in the fandom, have failed a bit for winwin, as I haven’t really written too much for him, and I hope that this made up for it. 

If you liked it, please share it with your friends and followers! Let me know what you thought, what your favorite bits were, if you think there were any parts that were rough and could be fixed, or just anything you’d like to say! Thanks again for reading, and I’m gonna go be sad now that I don’t have a Dong Sicheng to kiss on an island during a beautiful sunset. 

[easily-infatuated23]

Ride to the Dance

a/n: this is my first Steve fic so i hope you enjoy!

pairing: Steve Harrington x Reader

word count: 1.6k

warnings: none

summary: Steve drops Dustin off at the dance and meets an intriguing girl

“Knock em dead kid” Steve shouted from the drivers seat. Dustin shot him some finger guns before pushing open the door and entering the dance. Steve sighed. He remembered the feeling of nervousness and anticipation as a kid when trying to impress girls. He chuckled slightly. He looked out his window at the other cars dropping off anxious kids in ill-fitting fancy attire, and he saw her. She was sitting in the next car over, appearing to give the younger girl next to her the same pep talk he had just given Dustin. Her window was down and he could hear some of what she was saying. “I know you are nervous but just keep you chin up Lucy. If you look confident on the outside, it’ll seep in and you’ll feel it”. The smaller girl, apparently named Lucy, nodded her head and got out of the car. “I’ll be in the area so if you wanna leave early. Got get em sis!” Lucy gave a small wave before entering the dance in a similar fashion as Dustin.

The girl sighed and leaned back in her seat, her head lay rested back on the seat. She closed her eyes for a moment before sitting back up and looking around. She looked at Steve and smiled. He suddenly became aware of how long he had been staring at her. He smiled back. She motioned for him to roll his window down. He nodded and began rolling his driver side window down. “Steve Harrington what are you doing here” she asked teasingly. “Just dropping off” he replied. “Same here, my sister Lucy is pretty shy when it comes to stuff like this. I don’t remember you having a younger sibling, who’d you drop off?” she asked again. “Dustin Henderson” he said, suddenly feeling a little weird about his friendship with the child. “Ah I see. Lucy says he’s a sweet kid, smart too”. “Yeah” Steve chuckled. “Smarter than me thats for sure.” He looked back at the girl. “Don’t tell him I said that”. She laughed. “Wouldn’t dream of it but you should give yourself more credit”. He shrugged. “You picking up too?” She asked. “Yeah probably”. “I guess I’ll see you later then, bye!” She said warmly. He smiled and waved as she reversed out of her parking spot.

She looked familiar but he couldn’t remember her name. She was beautiful though. He thought he would definitely have remembered her for that. He ran his hand through his hair. He then heard the sound of cars honking and realized that other people were trying to get in to his spot. He decided he would pull around to the back of the school and wait. He rolled up his window pulled out of his spot, making his way around the building. To his surprise, the girls car was there. She was playing her radio and sitting on the hood of her car, laying back on the windshield. She was holding a glass coke bottle in her hand and was tapping her foot along with the song playing. She was wearing loose blue jeans, black Doc Marten boots, and an oversized black and grey stripped sweater. She looked up when she heard his car pull up next to hers.

“When I said I’d see you later, I didn’t think later would be this soon” she joked. “Yeah well I figured hanging back here was better then waiting out front like a weirdo” he replied as he got out of his car. She stood up and faced him. “Coke?” she offered. “Uh yeah sure” he replied. She smiled and opened her car door, pulling out another glass bottle. “Here”. She handed him the bottle and pulled a small bottle opener out of her pocket. “Thanks” he said. She hopped back up onto the hood of her car and gestured for him to join her. They lay in silence for a few minutes. “You can ask me you know. It’s ok I won’t be offended” the girl said, sitting up. Steve shifted to his side. “What’s you name again?”. “My name is Y/N. I actually was in your Poetry class last year” Thats where he knew her from! Steve hit his palm on his forehead. He remembered now. She always raised her hand to answer questions, usually to the point of being obnoxious. She also looked very different then. He didn’t want to be rude but he could distinctly remember joking with some of his old friends about how unattractive she was. She looked nothing like that now. Her beauty nearly took his breath away. “Right, sorry” he said. “I don’t blame you” she replied. “I was pretty annoying that year. Honestly, I try to forget that person sometimes” she laughed. “You said it not me” Steve said. She smiled and scoffed, hitting his arm lightly. They both started laughing.

Just then “Jump” by Van Halen came on the radio. “I love Van Halen” he said. He hopped down off of the hood and stood to face Y/N, illuminated by the headlights of the car. She watched as he started moving to the music and singing along. He was using his almost empty bottle as a microphone. “You might as well jump!” Steve sang, holding his bottle towards her expecting her to sing the ‘jump’ added in by the background singers. She just shook her head and laughed at him. “Hey thats no fun come on!” As the lyrics repeated Steve repeated his actions, pointing the bottle in her direction. This time she played along. “Jump!” She laughed. He reached out his hand to her, she smiled and accepted it. He pulled her off of the car and gave her a quick twirl. The two continued to sing (awfully) and dance (awfully) to the song. The bottles switched their uses from microphones to guitars when the guitar solo began. As the song finished, the two teens laughed at themselves and Steve unconsciously clasped Y/N’s hand and pulled her closer to him. Luckily, she didn’t seem to notice or mind. The laughter died down and Steve suddenly became aware of how close their bodies were to each other. His hand was on the small of her back and her hand was on his chest. He felt butterflies fluttering in his stomach. Was he nervous? Why did he feel nervous? He hadn’t been nervous around a girl since Nancy.

Y/N laughed a little and shook her head. “What?” Steve asked, starting to laugh with her. “Nothing” she said, taking a step back. “For a second I thought that you were gonna kiss me for some reason”. She pulled away from him fully and put down her empty bottle next to her car. Steve stood there and looked from side to side, slightly confused. “Maybe I was, would that be a bad thing?” He said, turning to face her. She maneuvered herself back onto the hood of the car, pulling one leg up to rest her arms on. “No, just seems unlikely” she said. “Look, just because I’m more popular than you doesn’t-” her laughter interrupted him. “Oh Steve Harrington I-” she paused to laugh some more. “What what?” Steve asked defensively. “I couldn’t care less about popularity status! I just think you’re hot and I didn’t think you would want to fraternize with someone not on your same level”. “Hey don’t say that you are beautiful. You should give yourself more credit”. She put her leg back on the ground and propped herself up on her hands. “That’s my line” she said. He shrugged. “Mine now”.

She shook her head and smiled. He leaned past her and put his empty bottle next to hers. When he stood back up he was closer to her than before. He leaned on the car and rested his weight on his right hand. Their noses were practically touching. “So, are you going to kiss me?” she asked. This caught Steve slightly off guard. Most girls were not this forward with him. They would either blush and look away when he spoke to them or wait for him to make the first move. “Earth to Steve” she spoke. “I heard you” he said. “I’m just looking at you”. They gazed at each other for a few more moments until an unspoken agreement occurred and the two leaned in simultaneously. The kiss started soft and slowly ramped up in intensity. Her hands moved to his jean jacket, using the open flaps as handles to pull him closer to her. Both of Steve’s hands were cupping her cheeks.Their tongues danced in and out of each others mouths, exploring. His left hand moved from her cheek to her lower back, causing her to arch. Her lips felt soft on his and he felt her cold cheeks warming up beneath his hands. They finally broke away from each other, gasping for air. Her eyes sparkled as she looked up at Steve. She really was breath taking.

“What are you doing on Saturday night?” she asked him. “Uh nothing” he said, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. He even ran his hand through his hair to reinforce how nonchalant he was trying to be.“Me. You are doing me Saturday night.” He leaned back slightly and blushed. Seeing the surprise on his face she spoke again. “Don’t look at me like that, we were both thinking it” she said laughing. He smiled and nodded. “You got me there” he said. Now, he didn’t feel as weird about dropping of Dustin at the dance. In fact, at the end of the night, he would be sure to thank him for asking for the ride to the dance.