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squirrel-moose-winchester · 4 years

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The Call

Title: The Call

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 2853

Square Filled: Vampire

Summary: While in the middle of a dragging vampire hunt, Dean gets a call from you, however, it wasn’t what he was expecting.

Warnings: Lots of SMUT, and a splash of Crack.

Written for: @spndeanbingo

Disclaimer: Not my gif

A/N: I totally forgot I had this in my WIPS! I’ve finished it, and I hope you guys like it. Some smutty goodness for you naughty girls. Haha! Please, I would really appreciate the reblog and any positive and/or constructive feedback! I’m always happy for the support!! Love you guys! Happy reading!

The Vamp hunt was taking longer than any of them expected. Meeting a dead end, both men decided to call it a night, and you were more than willing to oblige. You were mentally, physically, and sexually frustrated and needed to blow off some steam in the privacy of your own motel room.

You and the boys parted ways. Sam went to his shared room with Dean, you went back to yours, and Dean went out to the bar, as per usual.

Once the door was lock and closed behind you, you quickly lunged for the bed. As fast as you could, you shredded out of your shirt and bra, leaving your upper half bare. Next you slipped off your pants and underwear, leaving them beside you, too in a rush to have your fingers between your legs.

Gliding your fingers between your pussy lips, you moaned at how wet you were. The entire time that you and the guys were scoping out the location that the vamps might be inhabiting, you couldn’t take your focus away from Dean. He hadn’t shaved in a while and you wondered how the scruff on his jaw would feel in contrast to the smoothness of the skin between your thighs. You also couldn’t stop thinking about his hands. They continued to fiddle with his gun, and you couldn’t help think about just how good he could work with those twitchy calloused digits. How good they’d feel on your body, and in your body.

Easily dipping a finger into your dripping cunt, you moaned out Dean’s name, imagining it was his fingers instead of yours. You shoved a second finger, imagining your two fingers as one of his. As you continued to plunge your soaked fingers into your drooling heat, your other hand searched for purchase, needing to grab onto something.

Too lost in your fantasy, you failed to pay attention to your surroundings, specifically, where and what you were touching. Accidentally, your fingers managed to wake your phone, your thumb coincidentally fitting perfectly on the sensor, unlocking the device. Still too enthralled with the sensation between your legs, your fingers somehow pressed under recent contacts and hit Dean’s name.

Dean was half way through his second beer when his phone started to ring beside him. He took a quick glace, noticing your name lit up on the screen. A small smirk stretched his lips at the thought of you. He pondered if you were calling him in need of some company. If you were to come to the bar, he could shamelessly flirt with you, flaunt you to every unlucky peering eyes. Although you weren’t his, no one else had to know. He relished in the longing looks of all other men in the room, knowing that he had the prize and they had jack squat.

If he were to go back to your room… well… the possibilities were endless. One thing could lead to another, and maybe… just maybe he’d finally get to live all his deepest desires. Finally get to taste you, hear you, hold, do all the ungodly things he wanted to do to you. Fuck… Dean had it bad.

Picking up his phone, he accepted the call, bringing the device up to his ear. “Hey Sweetheart, coming to join me?” he asked with a smug smirk playing on his plush pink lips however, there was no answer. “Y/N? Hello?” He called, but still no response. “Y/N? Hey, everything okay?” He questioned again, a tinge of panic beginning to form in the depths of his gut. “Maybe it was a butt dial,” he told himself, not wanting to think of the worst. You said you were going straight back to your motel room, and Sammy wasn’t too far. If anything was wrong, Sam would be there.

As Dean was about to pull the phone away from his ear, a subtle sound caught his attention. He couldn’t quite make out what it was through the noise of the bar, so he put you on speaker. “Y/N? Hello?” When nothing came, he upped the volume. “Y/N, hey. You okay?” Still, nothing. “Y/N—”

“Dean! Oh, god!” Your voice moaned out loud and clear, catching the attention of the bar tender and a few patrons nearby. Dean practically leaped from his seat with wide eyes, quickly trying to turn off the speaker setting and pressing the phone back to his ear.

“Y/N, what the fuck?” Dean hissed, scoping the bar with a thick blush blanketing his freckled face. He was not expecting that. “Y/N!” He called your name again, holding the phone between his ear and shoulder. He rapidly pulled out his wallet and threw a few bills onto the table, before rushing out of the bar.

Now in the stillness and silence of the cold night, he could finally hear you better. He could hear you breathing heavily, soft mewls and calls of his name falling from your lips in deep sighs. Dean didn’t know what the hell was going on, and every corner of his conscience was telling him that he shouldn’t be listening and to hang up, but there was no way he could. The idea that this could have been a mistake and you really did butt dial him on accident, but after listening to the need and arousal in your voice, he couldn’t help himself. He was a goner. You just sounded too good. Better than anything he’s ever heard before.

“Dean, please. Ah,” you moaned, and heat instantly filled his body, his cock stiffening to the point of pain.

“Shit,” Dean groaned, his jeans now way too tight.

With the phone still against his ear, he crossed the parking lot and towards the motel, heading straight for your room. More of your words encouraged him to move faster, urging him to pick up that pace. As he crossed the street, a car honked at him, nearly hitting him. That was enough of a warning call, telling him just how gone and eager he was.

A car horn interrupted your “self-care” time, making you flinch against the mattress. You cursed whoever it was before continuing on with your ministrations. You closed your eyes, attempting to regain the imagery of Dean hovering over you, his thick cock filling you up over and over again, making you scream until your throat was dry and raw. You were so close when the door went flying open.

You yelped, yanking your fingers out from your pussy and closing your legs together, arms wrapped around your chest. “Dean, what the hell?!” You shouted, “get out!” Your heart was pounding and you could feel the heat of your humiliation succumbing your every being.

Dean only stared at you with lust blown eyes. Seeing you naked on the bed had to be the most beautiful things he’s ever seen – a dream come true. He acknowledged his phone, lifting the device and showing you his screen. Your name and picture was lit up on it. Your eyes widened before reaching for your phone on the nightstand to see that you really had called him… shit.

Hanging up the call, you bit your bottom lips shyly, slowly shifting your eyes to meet his. You watched as he closed the door behind him and stalked over to the edge of the bed, tossing his phone next to yours on the night stand with expert precision.

“Tell me you called on purpose. That you purposefully lured me here with your dirty little sounds. That you wanted me to hear… all of that.”

Just when you thought your cheeks couldn’t get any hotter, your whole body went aflame with humiliation and an underlying excitement. You were just caught masturbating by the man you were imagining in your head. The man you were pining over – had always been pining over – since the very first day you met him.

“It was an accident,” you spoke, finally finding your voice, although it was a little unsteady. Dean just started at you, jaw twitching and fists clenching beside his hips. He was using all of his strength not to lunge towards you, and you could definitely notice it. You could see the want in his eyes, the strain in his body, and the raging boner dying to burst through the denim. It was what gave you all the confidence you needed. He wanted you, just as much as you wanted him. And even if this was only going to be a one time thing, you’d take it. “But since you’re here… I could use a little help,” you finally said, spreading your legs wide open for him.

Dean groaned, instantly finding himself hovering above you fully clothed. It was a blur of desperation: body on body, lips on lips, and a whole lot of teeth and tongue; and it was also a mess of tangled limbs pushing and pulling off tangled fabric. Eventually, you and Dean were able to get him on the same page… butt ass naked.

“Fuck, you really did a number on me with that phone call,” he breathed, catching your bottom lip before devouring you once again.

“It was unintentional, but I’m glad it happened,” you replied, breaking the kiss and taking hold of his cock, lining him up at your entrance. The thickness and weight of his dick didn’t go unnoticed, eliciting a rugged gasp passed your kiss-swollen lips.

“Wait,” Dean managed to pry himself away. “Condom—”

“I’m on the pill,” you automatically responded, cutting him just short of his question.

Dean grinned with satisfaction. There was nothing like the feeling of going bareback, balls deep, in good fucking pussy. And he just knew you were going to ruin all others for him. “Then I guess I need to get your ready for me,” he chuckled, unraveling himself from you and sitting on his hunches.

Having him sit like that in front of you was the first time you got to really look at him. Taught muscle under firm flesh, and a cock made by the gods. Dean was one cocky son of a bitch, and now you knew why. He wasn’t all talk… he was the real thing… the entire package.

“Fuck… you’re big,” the words spilled from your mouth.

Relishing in the compliment, Dean lowered himself onto his chest, hot skin meeting cool sheets, prying your legs wide open so he could place his head between them. He bowed, inhaling your needy pussy deeply, nose just grazing your sex. “Fuck, you smell amazing,” he sang.

“Please—”

Dean appreciated the sound of your begging, even if it was one world. Knowing that it was for him drove him crazy with need. He needed to taste you, be in you, fuck you into oblivion. He needed to show you just how much he’s been wanting you, needing you all this time. He wanted to confess his feelings for you with his body. Show you how much you meant to him.

Unable to hold back any longer, Dean went to work, diving his tongue into your sweet pussy before licking up towards your clit. “Taste so fucking good,” he moaned, latching onto your clit. Flicking the tip of his tongue on the bundle of nerves before alternating to suck, and occasionally nibble, on it.

You screamed his name, feeling the familiar heat building in the pit of your stomach, however this one felt a little different… stronger. Dean shoved one and then two fingers inside you, curling them just right.

“Dean!” you cried, raking your fingers through his hair before tugging his head back, or at least trying, but Dean held you tighter, shoving his face deeper between your legs and pumping his fingers faster and harder. “Fuck!” You shouted, writhing beneath him. Suddenly, your body went achingly stiff, your fists yanking on the sheets, and in a mass of white light and scorching wet heat… one of the strongest orgasms pummeled through your body.

“Shit,” you heard Dean laugh. Peeling your eyes open, you saw him smiling up at you, his face drenched. “Didn’t know you could squirt,” he grinned, “and it was fucking a lot!” His voice and expression held pride and excitement, as if he had just won the jackpot.

“Neither did I,” you admitted, allowing your entire being slump onto the bed.

“That was hot as hell. You’re for sure ready for me now,” he teased, the smirk ever-present on his face.

Dean didn’t offer any sort of warning. In one swift motion, he plunged himself to the hilt, balls deep inside of you, making you moan (borderline, scream), as you arched your back off the bed. It felt surreal. He was huge, and you had never felt so full in your life.

“Oh, fuck!” You screamed in unadulterated bliss.

“Shit… you’re so fucking tight,” Dean huffed, barely keeping it together.

Your pussy clenching around his dick was too much for him to handle. He’s been dreaming about this moment for so long, and now that it’s here, he isn’t too sure he could last as long as he wanted to.

It only took him a few pumps before he had you falling apart once again. It was as if all of your senses were heightened and neither of you could resist how incredible it felt. Tears were spilling from your eyes, the arousal being too much to handle. Dean was barely touching you and you were already on the verge of your third orgasm. The thought seems impossible, but your body’s reaction was no lie.

Dean noticed your tears of pleasure, which only urged him to push harder. A strangled moan escaped your lips, music to his ears. With each harsh thrust, Dean could feel his control thawing away. He wasn’t going to last and he needed you to come one more time. Just one more.

His hand found his way to your clit, rubbing harsh circles with his fingers. Your eyes snapped open and you let out a guttural groan, eyes crossing before lolling to the back of your head. Your body convulsed violently as your pussy pulsates around Dean’s cock. In a matter of seconds, he was spilling deep inside of you. The feel of his spending’s filling you up only prolonging one of the best orgasm you’ve ever had.

Dean collapsed on top of you, the weight of him actually bringing comfort. “That was fucking awesome,” he mumbled against our skin, placing soft kisses where ever he could reach. “Sorry I couldn’t last longer. It was just too good. Couldn’t help myself.”

“Don’t be sorry. It might have been quick, but it was by far the best I’ve ever had,” you confessed.

“It’ll be better next time.”

Next time? The notion of there even being a next time spread a smile on your face. “Next time?”

“Hell yeah, next time… and many more next times. After this, you don’t think I’m gonna let you get away do you?”

“I don’t know,” you teased singingly.

“Well, believe it sweetheart. You’re mine now,” Dean grinned, lifting his upper body just enough so he could look you in the face. “Unless that’s something you don’t want…”

“Oh... I want it. I want all of it.”

Dean smiled, placing a gentle kiss on your lips when the door flew open once again. “What the hell?” Sam spat.

You tried to push Dean off of you in order to cover up your modesty, but Dean didn’t budge. He nonchalantly turned his head to his brother as if being caught with his dick still submerged in pussy was normal. And maybe for Dean it was, but not for you. This was mortifying!

“What, Sam?” Dean grumbled. “We’re busy.”

“Seriously? I’ve been trying to call you guys! We were on a case remember? Vampire?! Any of that ring a bell?”

“Yeah, okay. Did you find any more leads?” Dean asked, shifting a little, still buried inside of you. You had to hold back the whimper that almost left you. Between their conversation, you grabbed the spare pillow and placed it over your face, still horrified.

“Yeah, I did. And I already took care of it!”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“Some help would have been nice!” Sam stated as if it was obvious, pointing to his tattered and bloody clothing.

“Fine. We’ll take the next one, and you can take a break.”

“Dean, that’s not the point,” Sam argued.

“Guys!” You shouted, after removing the pillow from your face. “The vampire is dead, I’m naked, and Dean is literally still balls deep inside of me!”

Dean smirked over his shoulder at his little brother, who’s face went red at the realization. “Wanna stay and watch?” Dean teased, and Sam was out the door in a blink of an eye.

“You’re such a jerk, Dean!” Sam’s voice muffled through the door.

“Aw, don’t be such a little bitch, Sammy!” He chuckled.

“Next time, lock the damn door!” Sam’s words were barely heard.

Dean chuckled as he brought his attention back to you. “Now… you up for round two?” He wiggled his brows.

A/N: Remember, if you liked it, please reblog it so it can circulate :) I would also really appreciate the support. I also would love some feedback. Reading all you kind and encouraging words really is the best thing ever! Thank you!! xx

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sondermink · 3 years

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Salt

Wine and Drag Race were exactly what he needed. Not to be caged into any stereotypes, but Sonder absolutely adored partying, and tried his very best to keep up with Cass and the band. Maybe it was because Cass was part Vampire and could metabolise the drugs quicker, or maybe it was because he was a youthful sixteen months younger than Sonder, but he needed a break.

Cass didn't seem to mind. In fact, he had become a little distant, but Sonder wouldn't admit that it got to him. His unintentional polyamorous relationship (with a girl, no less) was heavy on his mind. Normally the drugs numbed it, but Sonder was very much enjoying the wine with his best friend instead.

"What would your drag name be?" Sonder asked, his cheeks flushed red and giddy. "I think mine would be Saalty Tension. Can you see it?? And I would be boldly against tucking." He laughed heartily as Ru Paul savagely tore down a Queen.

"Well, I haven't actually thought about it, but Saalty Tension sounds hot." Jeremy purred his delicious, irresistible purr. Sonder didn't know if it was on purpose or not. Jeremy didn't talk to him like that. Not that he hadn't seen his friend flirting with people before, but Sonder was rarely the recipient. Although, it wasn't impossible... Jeremy took Sonder's wrist in his big, manly hands, and turned it over so that he could press a fluttering kiss to his palm.

"You would absolutely need to tuck. I've seen... Well, no, You're too shy to show me properly, which is a bit unfair because you've seen me naked a thousand times..." Jeremy was on a tangent, and Sonder blushed deeply. "I've seen you in those sequined go-go shorts. That's practically naked."

Sonder giggled and pulled his wrist away on instinct. His fingers danced over the spot that had been kissed. "Stop it! What are you doing, you bloody perve?" Sonder pushed on Jeremy's shoulder, making the Lockhart giggle instead. His hair flopped in such a way... Oh... "It's... Stop it, I can't believe we're even discussing this, it's nothing like yours..."

"I saw it, a little, remember that time you jerked off while I fucked Tyler?"

Sonder's breath caught in his throat. They didn't bring that up much, not when they were this close to sober. He swallowed the remainder of his wine to close the gap. "You did not!" He protested, sitting forward to fill his glass. He turned at the waist and topped off Jeremy's glass. "I was extremely discreet, and you've always been a show off! I mean, I would too, if I was - Well..." He gestured to the comparative Greek God.

Jeremy scoffed. "You're not being insecure, not after all this time?" Sweet, kind Jeremy, took Sonder's hands in his own once more. His big, strong hands. Sonder gulped. "You've got nothing to worry about. From what I've seen, you're totally perfect." He gave an encouraging squeeze. Sonder gave a small smile and took his hands back, back to the wine. Surely it was just the wine making him this flirty. Besides, it was normal for them. They'd always been flirty. "You don't need to be big when you're a bottom, anyway."

Sonder spat his wine dramatically and turned back around to Jeremy, properly red in the face now. "Excuse me?! You're just full of assumptions today, aren't you?" He attempted a playful slap at Jeremy's cheek but it ended in Sonder doing nothing but pressing his hand against the stubble there. His thumb brushed Jeremy's lower lip, and the blonde obligingly let his mouth gently open. He'd kissed him before. Loads of times. They kissed for experimentation in the beginning, and then for fun, and later for more fun, and sometimes when they were drunk... Like now... But Sonder hadn't even finished his second glass...

"I've topped. Loads." Cass. And he was really being very liberal with the word 'loads'. Maybe a couple of times, but lately they only hung out when they were both on massive amounts of drugs. He was sure Cass had sex with Shosh now more than ever, now they were on the road and in each other's space at every moment. With Jeremy's rough face in his hand, his soft lip against the tip of his thumb, did he really even care who Cass was shagging?

He leaned forward and kissed him. Gentle at first, playful, as if it were a question. 'Is this okay? Were you just teasing me?' And Jeremy answered with vigour. The boy wrapped his arm around Sonder's waist, forcing the smaller boy up, his stomach pressing against Jeremy's chest. Okay, definitely not teasing. Sonder's hand went up into Jeremy's gorgeous hair, which he tugged, and the blonde emitted a moan. Sonder smirked against Jeremy's mouth and so the boy answered it, tugging on Sonder's hair, his tongue pushing into his mouth. Sonder moaned, much louder than Jeremy's, which had the boy chuckling. "Idiot." Sonder whimpered, biting Jeremy's lip and dragging, slowly, letting the reddness pop between his lips while the Lockhart locked eyes with him.

"Is this okay?" Jeremy asked through his hooded eyes, luscious eyelashes batting ever-so-sweetly. Sonder gave a small whimper. Cass. He looked up, thinking about it for a moment. How happy Cass seemed with Shosh. How drunk he was with Sonder. Maybe they weren't compatible as a couple. Maybe they were better as friends? They'd jumped into everything so fast, which was just so unlike Sonder. He had been proposed to by Caldwell before he'd even had a dick inside or around him.

His hands rested on Jeremy's shoulders, thumbs rubbing small circles into the skin of his neck. He'd known the boy for most of his life. And he'd always wanted him. There wasn't a moment in his life where he wouldn't have dropped everything to do whatever Jeremy wanted to do. He truly, with all his heart, loved Jeremy Lockhart.

"It's perfect." He said, firmly and with purpose. And as soon as the words left his mouth, Jeremy was on top of him like a racehorse out of the starting gate. He kissed up Sonder's slender neck, brushing his nose up his skin. Sonder straddled Jeremy on the couch as drag queens yelled at each other. Jeremy grabbed a hold of Sonder's ass and pulled him closer while the other went up his shirt to play with Sonder's pierced nipples. It was all so much. And in such a position there wasn't much Sonder could do but to moan, whimper, and grind. He could feel Jeremy's erection pressing eagerly against his ass. Sonder had been hard almost the entire conversation. His own penis pressed into Jeremy's stomach.

"Is it too much?" Jeremy asked, coming up for air. Sonder shook his head immediately as he rubbed his ass pointedly against Jeremy's dick. The Lockhart fumbled at the fastening of Sonder's jeans, and Sonder stopped his grinding. "Does that ever work? You sweet moron, skinny jeans." He mumbled the words lovingly through kisses and bites before dislodging himself from Jeremy's lap. "My place or yours?" He giggled, pointing to his room. It was definitely the closest, and it was the one more equipped for penis on penis sex.

Jeremy grabbed the boy in a fireman's hold, having Sonder make an unsavoury noise as he was suddenly scooped up. And so easily... "Jeremy!" He protested, not-so-secretly loving it. It wasn't long before he was thrown back onto his own bed. He had bought himself an extremely impractical bed spread. Bright pink and fluffy, like a stuffed toy. It was not for having sex on. Sweet, stupid Jeremy didn't think of that at all and jumped on it eagerly. "Oh my god! If you got cum on this I'd actually skin you and use you as a bed spread instead. I'd Buffalo Bill your sweet ass." Sonder shoo'd his friend off the bed until it was just sheets. The sheets could handle it.

Jeremy looked so sweet standing beside the bed, waiting impatiently, dick literally in his hands for Sonder to ready himself. Lubricant on the bedside table, an array of condoms. Toys, if they wanted to. Sonder had come a long way since Caldwell, virginal and afraid, Moore. He wouldn't have to blow Jeremy to hint to him that he wanted to have sex. Jeremy only needed to see the hungry look in Sonder's eyes as he walked calmly around the bed to his best friend and pushed him into a seated position. He took Jeremy's chin between his thumb and forefinger and had the boy look up at him. "I'm down for anything, really. And I don't normally top. I'd rather ride than top. I'll top if you really want but I'd prefer to lay down on my Egyptian cotton sheets and have you ravish me." He brushed his thumb across Jeremy's kiss-swollen lips. He looked up at him with his silly puppy eyes. Clearly, he hadn't expected his teasing to come to this.

"I'm down for anything." He pulled on Sonder's wrist, making the boy giggle, as he fell back into his bed. Jeremy started by undressing him properly this time. Sonder's dick popped up lewdly as his pants were pulled roughly down, and he turned an even deeper shade of red. Jeremy managed to pull Sonder halfway down the bed with a tug of his jeans and Sonder had to do the rest, kicking them off unceremoniously.

"Your dick is perfect, what were you even talking about?" Jeremy didn't wait for an answer as he took the length in his warm mouth. Sonder's toes curled. Oh, God. It had been a while. He wouldn't have lied and said he'd never imagined Jeremy's mouth before. Even wanked off to it. But he was so.... Eager. Hungry. Sonder grabbed the boy by the hair and pulled him up, crawling over him, kissing and tasting the saltiness on his mouth.

Jeremy's jeans were easier to extract but they both giggled as the woolen jumper captured Jeremy's upper body. It gave Sonder an opportunity to tickle him at first, his first instinct, and then to lay him back and kiss all over his chest, flicking his tongue against his nipples. A contained Jeremy gave a muffled moan before being able to get the jumper off completely, and once he had his hands he put them to use. Jeremy spat in his hand and Sonder scoffed. They had lube right there! Jeremy appeared to not notice as he grabbed a hold of both of their dicks and let his saliva be the lube and... Oh. And it felt very nice, made nicer by the fact that Jeremy had a little dribble making a line of spit from his mouth to his dick. Sonder's toes curled.

He put his finger to the line of spit first, an attempt to wipe it up? But Jeremy took it as an excuse to take Sonder's finger in his mouth. His tongue flicked just deliciously and Sonder moaned. Jeremy was a well trained slut and Sonder hadn't taken advantage of it at all. Jeremy had been out fooling around all of Hogwarts and Sonder had been left masturbating to the thought of it. He had to make up for lost time now. He replied to the finger sucking by taking Jetrmy's big manly hand in his and sucking on his finger in kind. It was Jeremy's turn to moan as Sonder gave the boy a preview of what he could do to his thick dick once he got a a chance to. He looked down between them, at his own dick on top of Jeremy's. The similarities and the differences. And for once, he didn't care.

Jeremy had a wet finger now, which was exactly what he had planned. He pulled Sonder forward and kissed him deeply, lewly, his mouth hungry to taste, his lips bruising and teeth grazing. And with that, he pressed his wet finger against the warm hole of Sonder's ass. The boy cried out in shock and pleasure, and before Jeremy could very annoyingly ask if it was okay, Sonder pressed his hand against Jeremy's, making his finger go inside further. It felt so good, and Sonder could feel himself becoming overwhelmed. With their bodies so close together there was barely room for a hand on a dick anymore, but Sonder made do. With less of a stroking and more of a teasing of Jeremy's slit.

Sonder felt himself come, sticky and warm, all over Jeremy's stomach. And once Jeremy realised what was happening, he too added to the mess. Sonder let out a soft screech at the untidiness of it all and pressed his legs together in an attempt to contain the sea of semen. Jeremy only laughed, and being the friend he was, he threw Sonder off of him and let the jizz go everywhere. Sonder cried out in protest and as he did, Jeremy laid his full body weight over his stomach, cum and all. He shrieked, pushing at the mountain of a man on top of him to no avail.

"Disgusting! You have to wash my sheets."

"Why?! It's your fault as much as mine!"

"Be-Because I made an attempt! You're so gross, oh my god! Get off me!"

Jeremy obliged with a goofy, just-done-it look on his face. Sonder rolled his eyes. Covered in cum, he was already stripping the sheets around Jeremy's naked body.

"Get up, you big... God, you big goofy mess! C'mon, we can shower."

That manged to get him standing at least, and to be quite fair to him, he did put the washing on. Sonder sucked Jeremy off in the shower later that night. Jeremy returned the favour later in his own bed, but there was no mess that time.

They cuddled together as they had done a thousand times before. Jeremy's face against the back of Sonder's neck, Sonder absentmindedly tracing on the skin of the arm Jeremy threw over him.

"What am I meant to say to Cass?" He asked quietly, waited patiently for an answer, but Jeremy had fallen asleep. Sonder drifted off too, but only after worrying about his ethics for a few more hours.

#c:jeremy #smut au #tw negative body image stuff #omggg it's been a LONG time since i've written smut #especially mlm #so be kind <#3

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danadeservesadrink · 4 years

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Do You Believe in Fate Chapter 5

You Have Got to Get Out More

In which our favorite couple goes out on dates. This is basically an apology for all the angst in last chapter. Enjoy!

Read on AO3 here

Tagging @today-in-fic (also if you would like to be tagged in updates shoot me a message)

“Dana Scully speaking”

“You have got to get out more.”

“I get out plenty, thank you very much.”

“Yea but ever since everything with that guy you haven’t done anything! You’ve been so mopey all week and now I bet you’re sitting in your hotel room being mopey too.”

‘You don’t know that”

“I will give you a hundred dollars if you’re anywhere but your hotel room right now, alone”

“I just haven’t felt the need to go anywhere”

“Dana you have to get over yourself!”

“Well even if I did want to go out who am I going to go out with?”

“What do you say I come up tomorrow. You know I love that old bar that was across from the hospital, you used to take me there all the time. We’ll go out, have a few drinks, flirt with some boys…”

“Missy I don’t know…”

“Dana for once in you life just have fun! I guarantee you one hour with me and you’ll have forgotten all about FBI man”

“Ok fine. But we are not staying out late because I have to work the next day and if you start taking shots I’m leaving you at the bar.”

“Not if you’re taking shots with me!”

“Missy-”

“Love ya Danes gotta go bye!”

“Bye Missy”

It was a tiny little bar called Rosco’s, packed with DC's finest, including G-men, doctors, and college students. The tables were cramped and wobbly and the floor was a little sticky in some spots but Dana had been going since she first started working at the hospital. The doctors had a routine of going out on Friday nights and she had found herself more than once dancing to the old jukebox to Billie Joel and Queen in her practical doctor heels after a long shift. If she had been thinking clearly, the thought that maybe the longstanding tradition would still be continuing this Friday might have popped into her head. But on Friday night she found herself sitting in her favorite bar nursing a beer when the music seemed to cut out and in walked what seemed like every single one of her old colleagues, ready to let off some steam after a long day of saving lives.

It didn’t take long for them to notice the two red headed girls sitting at the bar, especially since Missy stopped flirting with the bartender to start asking Scully which of her friends was single quite loudly. She recognized most of them when she looked into the crowd but there were certainly a few new faces. Resident students she guessed.

She quickly waded through all the “Dana oh my god how are you!” and “Oh wow it’s been so long!”. She was genuinely happy to see some faces. She recognized a woman named Kelsey who joined the hospital at around the same time she did. They had always been close, so when she was greeted with a hug she wasn’t surprised. Missy was the social butterfly, flitting through the doctors one by one before winding up back next to her like a meet-and-greet merry-go-round.

“We should buy them drinks!” Missy giggled at her, clearly enamored with one of the new young doctors that Scully didn’t recognize. “You know Mark’s here right?”

She hadn’t seen him come in, but it didn’t surprise her. She glanced in the corner of the pack to see the familiar salt and pepper hair of Dr. Mark Bordone, cardiac specialist. Before she left DC, the two of them had gone on a date or two. He took her to a bar like this one but much less fun and the interest was clearly one sided. But he bought her drinks and made nice conversation so she had been more than willing to entertain it. She had to admit he still looked good.

He looked over at her and smiled this big smile and she could see his eyes twinkling. She did remember that he was good at parties, the charming type. He smiled across the floor and eased his way over to her, pushing past grad students and a pair of police officers, until he sat down on the stool Missy had abandoned.

“Dana Scully it has sure been a while” He had a smile that perfectly fit his face, with shiny white teeth that seemed to add to the sparkle in his eyes.

“It sure has Mark. What have you been up to?” The slightly awkward conversation was better than sitting alone at the bar, since she had no one else to talk to now that Missy was over rubbing shoulders with the other students.

“Oh nothing much. I’ve been promoted to head of surgery. Kirk finally retired.”

“Wow. Well congratulations”. He smiled and she turned to drain her beer. She noticed his eyes flit down to her chest as she leaned back.

Let's take a moment to assess, shall we.

No wedding ring on the finger, so he hadn’t tied down one of the nurses. He was handsome, he fit her usual type, he was the biggest flirt she knew, and he wasn’t a stranger. And she desperately needed something, anything, to distract herself from the nagging FBI agent who wouldn’t leave the back of her mind.

Fuck it.

“Why don’t you use some of that ‘Head of Surgery’ money to buy me another drink. I'm sure you’ve got plenty to spare.”

She caught a thumbs up from Missy from across the bar as the bartender passed another two beers over the counter.

It was Missy who spotted him first. She had made her way through the crowded bar to Scully, who was still sitting at the bar with Mark. Scully had made it past small talk, and four beers later was now talking about the politics of the cardiac ward with her suitor. She was about to suggest maybe they go to a more quiet table to talk more when Missy popped out of the dance floor and shouted over the music “There’s a group of FBI people at some of the back tables. Maybe your alien guy is here?”

The night had truly been going so well.

“Alien guy?” Mark asked with a chuckle, and Scully laughed with him. She hadn’t known Mulder for long, but he didn’t seem like the type to be out on a Friday night in a crowded bar.

“I doubt it” she giggled, but she shifted closer to Mark as if to show him if he was here, she had moved on. Mark had placed a hand on her thigh and maybe she would have shrugged it off 2 beers ago but with Mulder fresh in the back of her mind she let it rest.

“I don’t know but one of them is super cute so I’ll be at their table for a while” Missy giggled then slipped back into the dance floor like she was being engulfed by the blob.

“I should probably go check on her” Scully said with a grin, and Mark shot one back.

“Should I be worried about this alien guy? He’s not coming from Mars to steal my woman?” He laughed again and she forced a smile.

“No, no, he’s just a friend. And besides, I don’t think this is his scene”. She rose from the bar stool and his hand fell off her thigh easily.

“I’ll be back in a few. I should probably go pull my sister off whatever person she’s decided to drape herself over.” He was easy to come back to.

He gave her a chuckle and a wave and she allowed herself to be swept away into the crowd, moving with the flow of dancers and drunkards like tides in the ocean to the back corner where Missy had previously pointed. She spotted her sister first, sitting in the lap of some blonde man wearing his FBI bomber jacket. She was just about to stroll over and pull her away when she spotted a gaggle of girls in the next booth on the right and there he was.

Her alien guy.

He looked uncomfortable, with a blonde woman clinging to his side, laughing at something he said with this forced bounce that she probably practiced. But he smiled back at her and tossed his arm around her and Scully felt a fury deep in the pit of her stomach.

She considered just leaving Melissa to run back across the bar, but he took his eyes off Blondie for a second and to glance at the dance floor and she saw the look of recognition in his eyes as he spotted her.

In an instant she power walked towards Melissa and yanked her off of G-man number 1, ignoring her “What the fuck!” as she dragged her sister back into the dancing mob and away from the gaze of Fox Mulder.

“What the fuck was that for” Missy huffed, pulling herself away from Scully’s grip, finding a small pocket in the swarm of bodies. Scully, however, was busy peering through strangers' shoulders, trying to see if he was following them. She thought she saw him get up but she couldn’t be sure. Missy noticed.

“Oh my god he IS here! Where?” She then proceeded to try to stand on her tip-toes before Scully pulled her back down. “Is he the tall one? He is so cute Danes no wonder you’re so hung up on him.”

“Yes. But he is with a girl and I don’t want to talk to him, so I really would prefer if we didn’t make a big deal out of it”

“Oh my god you totally have to win him back. You have to talk to him. Make him jealous. You should dance with Mark!”

“Who’s Mark?” And there he was, towering over the two of them with a goofy smile that made her feel things she didn’t care to admit. Melissa happily slipped back into the dancers, probably to go find her FBI guy again, or more likely watch their conversation through elbows and shoulders.

And so they stood in the middle of a crowded dance floor, waiting for the other to make the first move.

“Mark’s my date.” He doesn’t need to know that the date was unintentional. She glanced up at him, coldly, trying to avoid lingering on the way that his shirt was unbuttoned to show a glimpse of his collarbone.

“Ah. Where is he now?”

“At the bar. Who’s Blondie?”

“My boss’s secretary. She’s been trying to get me to go out with her and her friends since I started.”

“So you’re here on a date.” Scully crossed her arms, waiting for him to get the hint that clearly she didn’t want to be talking for much longer.

“I wouldn’t call it that. Do you want to dance?” He stepped closer to her and the bubble they had created pressed in on them, making her watch the ground so she didn’t step on his toes.

“I should go back to the bar…”

“Dance with me.” His presence was mesmerizing and his scent intoxicating. The music couldn’t have been louder, and yet she felt like she could hear their hearts beating. Maybe, she could just pretend that everything hadn’t happened. She could pretend that he was just a handsome stranger she met at a bar and allow herself to be swept up in his arms.

Scully was always good at pretending.

She didn’t say yes so much as nod, and then she found his arms wrapping around her and their bubble disappeared completely and she was surrounded by him. His arms, his shirt, his smell, everything about him engulfed her completely and it made sense because as much as she tried to forget him she felt this tether in the back of her head, like a magnet pulling north, and now she had found it and she locked right into place pressed against his chest. They swayed to the music, lost in the sea of bodies, allowing themselves to be pulled with the tides of hips and hands. A song went by, maybe two, and she felt his hand dip lower to rest on the notch above her jeans.

“You’re wearing navy again” he whispered into her ear. She opened her eyes suddenly to the sound of his voice. She hadn’t even realized they had closed.

“I like navy” she whispered back, and she could hear him chuckle though she couldn’t see his face, his breath hot on her neck.

“It makes your eyes look like the sea”. As if to prove his point he pulled back from her and tilted her chin upwards with a finger. She looked up and gazed into his eyes as he stared into hers and she could feel the electricity flowing between them. She felt herself being drawn forward to him. Her eyes fluttered shut, and he was so close, and it was so perfect.

“You have a case file.”

And there it was.

“Excuse me?” She drew back sharp as a whip and she knew, she knew , it was all too good to be true.

“I looked you up, you have a case file. They did start an investigation, they just never finished it” She pulled back, pushing back into one of the dancing masses, and she felt his hands drop from her sides. Nothing is ever perfect.

“Mulder I-”

“Scully I know you said not to meddle but I can help you…”

“And I told you I don’t want your help! I can’t believe you , I can’t…” She backed away from him further, hearing cries of “watch it” coming amidst the dancers.

“Scully please.”

“No Mulder. You weren’t even supposed to be here, I didn’t want to see you” He steps back in shock and they’re attracting attention now but she doesn’t care. She’s lashing out, out of what she doesn’t know. “I don’t need your help, and I don’t need you, so go back to your blonde bitch, she can clearly give you whatever you want from me”

She felt hands on her shoulders and heard a man say “Dana, is something wrong?” but all she could focus on was his face. The way he stared at her like she broke his heart.

He didn’t even know her but as she slipped away into the crowd he watched her like she was the world’s most precious jewel sinking beneath the waves.

She heard Mark talking to him, but the bodies closed the gap between them and Melissa took her by the wrist and led her to the front, out the door, and the cool air of the night hit her face.

“Do you want to go home?” Missy reached up and wiped a tear from Scully’s cheek. She hadn’t even realized she was crying. She nodded and Melissa turned to call the cab. She shivered, listening to the muffled music in the bar, processing everything that just happened.

The door opened and Mulder walked out. Instantly, her sister was back in front of her, like a 5’2 battle shield.

“I’m going to have to ask you to get the fuck away from us.” For what she lacked in stature, Missy made up for in sheer grit. She once picked a bar fight with a Navy Seal. She could take a 6’1 pouty FBI agent.

“I just want a second”

“You don’t deserve a second.”

“Please. I promise, just one second and then you’ll never hear from me again.” He glanced over Missy’s shoulder and caught Scully’s eye. Missy looked back and Scully gave a resigned nod.

“Fine, but I’m timing you.”

Mulder stepped past Melissa in the way you would step past an armed bomb and proceeded to invade Scully’s space again.

“What do you want?”

“I’m sorry”

“For?” She stood with her hands on her hips, but he looked so pitiful. She noticed his eye was swollen.

“I’m sorry for getting into something that’s none of my business”

“Why?” He looked confused so she elaborated. “Why do you want to help me so much?” He looked at her again and the way the streetlights bounced off him made him look like he was glowing. She felt another tear slip down her cheek. The bar music faded away and all that was left was the humming of the lights.

“I want to help you because I feel connected to you. Ever since we first met I’ve felt this pull like a…” He searched for the words.

“Like a magnet.” He snapped his fingers and it startled her.

“Exactly. And I know, I know that everything that happened to you is really none of my business” She raised an eyebrow at him but he didn’t notice, instead stepping closer so only she could hear.

“But I like you so much. More than I think I’ve ever liked anyone. I think you’re smart and gorgeous and for God’s sake Scully you save little kids lives for a living and I don’t deserve you at all, but I want to make your business my business.” She was smiling now, and he brushed a hair back from her face, letting his hand linger down her cheek.

“All of my business?” It was a test.

“All of your business. Not even just the parts you think I’m interested in. I want the mundane, the ordinary, the outright boring. I want everything that has to do with you”

He passed.

“Ok.” She looked up at him and he seemed shocked, like he truly didn’t expect the conversation to go this way.

“Ok?”

“Yes, ok-” And she couldn’t finish her sentence because his lips were on hers and everything was right in the world. His hand found her waist and she gasped but his tongue stole it away. She returned the favor and wrapped her hands around his neck, tilting up on her toes to reach him. He kissed with a fury and she met him with equal passion, their lips moving in synchronicity. She let a moan slip out when his hand dipped lower to cup her ass through her jeans. She would have been embarrassed if he didn’t smile into her mouth when she did and grip tighter. She brought her hand to cup his face but he winced and pulled away.

“What happened to your eye?” She hadn’t noticed the color in the streetlights but up close she could see the reddish shade it was turning.

“Well your date didn’t seem to like how I made you run out crying and all, so he decided that I needed to be taught a lesson”.

“I’m so sorry…”

“Nah it’s alright. After he realized he just assaulted a federal agent he decided I wasn’t worth it” She went to run her fingers over his eye but he grabbed her wrist and instead kissed her fingers. He was about to lean in again before he heard an “ Ahem ” over his shoulder, and he turned to see Missy with her arms crossed next to a waiting cab.

“I don’t mean to interrupt whatever all this is…” she waved her hand to gesture to the two of them, “But our cab is here.”

He turned back to her and pulled her close, placing a firm, lingering kiss on her lips. She could hear him sigh when they pulled apart.

“I’ll see you soon?”

“Yes you will.”

“Goodnight Scully.”

“Goodnight Mulder.”

Maybe the world could be perfect. At least for a little while.

#The X Files Fanfic #txf au #msr #msr fanfiction #Dana Scully #Fox Mulder #The X-Files #dybif #sam writes

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steveusesfaberge · 5 years

Text

Tips & Company Policy

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Reader

Request: So my request is — the reader is dating Steve, and they both work with robin at scoops and they’re in this competition on who can get the most tips & then reader flirts with a male customer & bb Steve gets jealous and protective ya know however you wanna spin it lol happy ending tho ❤️❤️

Summary: He’s loved her, ever since he could remember...Steve just had never had the courage to speak up. That is, until now - Robin being the ultimate wing-woman he never asked for...a friendly competition...a good-looking customer...and no regards to their company policies.

Type/Style: Imagine, female pronouns

Warning(s): Fluffff, fluff, flufffffff, a dork named Harrington, a bit of a jealous boi, and a cheeky ass Robin <3 Cursing, cause...yeahhh...

Word Count: +7.4K

a/n: This was such a cuteeeeeee idea! I’m so happy I had the pleasure of writing it! <3 It made me happy and prepared me for what I have planned next...

Next up is a Billy fic...and hold your horses, kids...this one is gonna be a doozy...angst, tears, and fluff sprinkled throughout...a miniseries that I plan to have a sweet ending.

I’m trying to decide on what t do with my next Steve fic...either a request, or something new (possibly a miniseries for Harrington too).

I apologize if I haven’t gotten to your requests, in order for me to actually write - I need inspiration and time...I’ve lacked in the first recently, for those in particular, and I’m sorry! I promise I’ll get to them though! <3

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“Ouch. I’m pretty sure that’ll leave a mark.” Steve groaned in frustration, as Robin mocked him from the glass-slide window. He turned around, employee issued-hat in hand...chocolate blast smeared across his face. Just another day at Scoops Ahoy for Steve Harrington...

“Har, har,” He fussed while giving her a nasty look. Buckley only smirked while adding another tally to the You Suck side of that infamous whiteboard of hers.

Robin capped her marker. “You know, if you stopped being a dingus, you’d notice that you don’t have to work so hard for your money,” the dirty-blonde told while giving him the you’re an idiot - why am I even telling you this? You should know this already look.

Steve’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, he pulled a clean rag from under the counter and wiped his face off. Proceeding to wipe down the countertop while he’s at it... “What? Whaddya mean by that?” Harrington questioned while lifting a hand to rub his nose, the stain from the counter (and his face) now gone.

He’d been talking to a customer and as he was serving her, he...accidentally...might’ve given a backhanded comment - of course, unintentional - but he managed to irk her anyway (So, I was just thinking, maybe you and me could get together some time - y-you know, like back at your place. O-Or mine..-- Well, I mean - I’d take you out first, like before we did anyth- like I wouldn’t just screw you and leave...unless you wanted me to). Yeah...not his best run. Thus, the flavor of the day made friend’s with his cheekbones.

“I mean,” Robin started while rolling her eyes and crossing her arms,” You - good sir - are wasting your time on--,” she trailed off, pulling a hand up to gesture to the sea of people passing by the parlor.

Steve touched his face, pulling at his bottom lip with his thumb and forefinger. “Mhm, mhm, mhm...yeah, yeah, get to the point.”

Robin could only gawk at him; as if he were truly the dumbest person she’d ever met (and he was). She scoffed in disbelief. “Steve-- I mean, why do you try with all these others girls, when the one that’s - as they say,” she paused for emphasis, her eyes wide and her speech slow as if talking to a child.

“The perfect girl - is right under your fucking nose, Harrington.” With that, she grabbed his shoulders and whipped him to turn around. Steve was in the midst of telling her off and rolling his eyes when he spotted her...

She had her hair let down, allowing a flow of honey and lavender to waff off her figure (Steve knew because he’d asked her...I mean...of course he did - his hair didn’t get this good all by itself...). Her y/c/e eyes were far from lackluster - shining with untold stories and secrets that Harrington would lamely listen to all night if she gave him the chance...

She held herself with such, grace - such poise - and yet, still held that charm that he loved. Y/N waved at him, her y/c/s skin almost glowing, casting a halo in his eyes...was he seeing things? Robin could see the way the light captured her perfectly in every aspect too...right?

She was shorter than him, though he didn’t mind...Steve liked that he could glance down without her knowledge throughout their days - sneaking a glimpse of a pearly smile, adorable pout, or simple bliss from solely being alive and in her presence.

“Hey, Stevers - you holdin’ down the fort okay?” Y/N asked while cocking an eyebrow teasingly. He could only sputter an answer - nodding foolishly after harshly swallowing his embarrassment down.

He watched as she and Robin exchanged some...complex...handshake (it had nothing on his and Dustin’s, pfft). “Okay? - Okay? - Y/N/N, this dingus chased off more customers than yesterday,” Buckley snorted while cackling like the wicked, wicked witch of the west (she was doing this on purpose and they both knew it....).

Y/N gave a sigh, correcting her hat to sit on her head a bit higher, walking by Steve and patting his shoulder. “Lay it on me, did you tell someone they looked pregnant? Drop their cone? Get their order wrong?” She offered, tapping her nails along the countertop.

“Mmm, bad enough. He told the girl he was basically looking for s--,” “Not. Important!” Harrington cut in with his words drowning out Robin’s - a voice crack and all...Great...just peachy...

Y/N chuckled, shaking her head while her eyes found the edge of her freckled friend’s familiar tally-chart. “You know Steve, if you’re that desperate to get back in the game, I could always hook you up,” the y/c/h haired girl told while flipping her scooper in the air and catching it; not even flinching (a trick that Harrington himself actually taught her - explaining that it’s all in the wrists -see?).

Steve gave an awkward, half-hearted laugh. Waving her off and using the excuse to attend to the next customers as his ticket out of that conversation. In the middle of Steve trying to avoid his own humiliation - he’d missed the way her lips twitched as he denied her offer...as if she’d wanted no to be his answer...

Why was Steve embarrassed about that though? - Well...it’s kinda embarrassing to tell someone that they didn’t want to be set up with their friends...because...even through all the corny jokes, horrendous pick-up lines, and random talks at work (and while babysitting, and while just...well...hanging out...) - he still couldn’t work the nerve to ask her out. After all this time...

He’d known Y/N since, what? - Diapers? Yeah...something like that. Either way, Steve was sure of one thing - he was in love with Y/N Y/L/N and there was nothing he could do to stop himself from falling. In fact, he found that he kept falling...every....single...day.

He remembered growing up and the idea of even kissing a girl was just the invitation of catching cooties and dying. Steve could remember thinking that he’d never want to even be close enough to a female to...to see that her smile was slightly crooked - only because she always had this sweet little way of grinning, to begin with. He never wanted to be close enough to a girl to realize that their eyes swam more than just one color; no one shade could define the pigment contained in those orbs...

Steve had never imagined he’d want to be close enough to a girl as to remember the way she smelled. Honey and jasmine? No...sometimes it was pine and what he could only describe, as a summer’s night. Yeah...young Steve would be floored to see him now...

Then, they hit middle school; nothing changed...not too much. Steve was still skeptical about this whole girl thing, but he was slowly giving it a chance. Y/N was still his best friend - she still came over and they’d ride their bikes down to the park and sit on the swings...just talking about their day. Or sometimes, they’d just stay inside - binge as many VHSes as they could (Y/N always liked to add her two-cent. Ugh, see this is why they ended up dying! -- What? I would’ve totally taken the red one! -- She’s crazy! -- He’s so smart! -- I thought the mom would be more upset...-- Does that guy even care? -- What color is that? -- Is that misspelled? Steve, Steve! Look!).

Nothing changed...no...well, besides Harrington slowly finding himself looking a second too long at her; smiling a bit too hard at her; listening a little too much to her. He thought it was puberty doing this to him, so he pushed it aside...Then, high school...

Steve remembers it as the first day of November. They had a few months of high school under their belt and were already easing into it all. Turns out, Harrington was what they called...a chick magnet...he started young, what can he say? Though, being fifteen and only barely figuring out where his classroom was...he didn’t care. There wasn’t a reason to care about his looks just yet...he was still trying to figure out which styles were cooler (Senior boys out-ranked him by far, so he had to stand by).

The first day of November...he was walking Y/N home; as he always did (before he got his BMW and his license). She didn’t live too far from him - just down the street, taking two right, then going straight until you passed a big yellow house...stopping at the quaint grey one. He didn’t mind the walk, it was actually kinda nice just to be able to express every thought and emotion that he’d hidden throughout his day. Especially to someone who cared so much about what he had to say.

She’d been wearing his jacket - it was a bit chilly and he didn’t want to be a dick and not give her his coat (his mother would kill him if he treated Y/N wrong). And then - I fell, right? Like in the middle of friggin class...and everyone - and I mean everyone - even Daniel Corvin and he’s like...basically ‘too cool for school’ if you know what I mean. Gosh, I just...I just wish you’d been there. She had been recounting an incident in physical science, telling Steve in great detail how she’d spilled two beakers of - God knows what - on Sally McDonald and Tracie Nelson.

Then - then, Steve - I tried to help them, you know-- like get the stain out...Steve...that stain would not...come out...I thought Tracie was going to bite my head off! Steve had only laughed, getting a shove from the girl in the process. Sorry, sorry - it’s just... If I were there, Y/N - I’d have laughed at you and probably do something dumber. She had smiled at him, and somehow, someway...it was that moment...that moment on the first day of November...walking home from school on a Tuesday...had he felt it.

The sky was a cloudy grey and it had everything bathed in a drab stillness. The wind being the only evidence of time moving as it lifted Y/N’s hair to fly out behind her. Her hands were buried in the pockets of a jacket not belonging to her, too big to fit properly, yet Steve found it to fit her perfectly. Harrington had been carrying her backpack for her (gentlemanly as always) and he’d almost dropped both their bags in the process of watching her...watching her idly kick the fallen leaves as she retold the story.

It was so simple. There was nothing special about that day, he hadn’t won a basketball game (being MVP), nor had he passed some big exam, or even find out he was secretly the heir to some ancient throne...no...nothing that day could explain how he’d acted - nothing causing him to burst with happiness and emotion, the only answer? Steve simply being there with her.

He was in love...

It carried throughout his high school days. He found that despite how many baskets he shot, girls he tempted, and papers he passed...she was still...there. The feelings...still there. Y/N would sit front row, cheering louder than anyone else at his games (even committing to the away-games, claiming she’d never miss him play for the world). Y/N was always there for him when he had girl troubles (either helping him through it, or talking him out of it) - always smiling, and always supportive. Y/N would help him study - they had this tradition of Monday nights being preserved for the two of them. They’d get their week together, planning, discussing, and deciding what was best and when to do it...she was always there.

And she still was.

Standing only a few feet away; a dingy little white hat on her head as she patiently assisted some young boy with what ice cream size he wanted. Shooting Steve a wink or a goofy face whenever she had the pleasure of doing so. She was still there...after all those years...after everything, they’d gone through...and yeah, almost dying two times was enough to drive any girl - hell, anyone - away. Yet, there she was. Still there.

“Sailor boy, you wanna move or what?” Y/N asked, pursing her lips, placing a hand on the counter as she tried slipping by him to reach the mint-chocolate-chip the boy had requested. “Oh, yeah...sure,” he mumbled while shuffling to the right. “Dork,” Y/N huffed with a soft laugh, nudging him with her hip.

He looked up to hear Robin - not so casually - cough. “Ahem - ahem - Stev...a...ahhheeem....you....you suck.” It was a jab at their private conversation...one they’d had a few weeks ago when Robin, the dirty little sleuth she was...had figured out about his (long-term) feeling for Y/N Y/L/N.

What? -- You’re saying, after eighteen years...you haven’t even...tried...to ask her out, Harrington? -- It..it never c-came up! -- Mhm, sure...wow, and here I thought The Hair actually was some big shot. -- I was! - I-I am! I’m just...I don’t...want to ruin...what we have... -- Yeah, said every sad-ending love story ever.

He flipped her off after making sure no one would notice and jerked his hands up in a waggling motion, sticking his tongue out and shaking his head at her. “Wow - yeah, real mature, dingus.” Robin clapped slowly, applauding his act generously.

“Shut the hell up,” he grumbled while running his hands down his face, clawing at his cheeks dramatically popping his eyes wide.

He turned around as Y/N started talking. “You know - as much as this uniform blows - I do say, the tips aren’t bad.” She held up an extra dollar and gave a shrug.

“That’s more than Steve could ever manage,” Robin piped up while leaning out the glass window. Harrington glared at her and only faked a smile. “Please - I can make way more t-than...than that!” He exclaimed, snatching the dollar from Y/N.

“Hey--- hey! Dickhead! That’s mine! I didn’t just amuse a child for twenty-two minutes for your sorry ass to take it!” She whined while fighting a smile as Steve held it over his head, holding it to the light as if trying to figure out its authenticity.

“Mhmm, yes...yes...the serial number looks right...”

“Steeeeevvveee! S-Stop that!” Y/N giggled while jumping up, inadvertently pushing his back to the counter as he only denied her petition, snapping the bill straight a few times.

“Wait a second....is that picture drawn on?” He uttered while gasping loudly, using one arm to hold Y/N away from him as she collapsed into him, complaining and slapping his bicep mildly.

Of course, it was hard to be mad at him...even after eighteen-years, Y/N still could never find it in her to be truly cross with him (annoyed? Sure...but furious...? Not even once). Steve had this incredible gift where - anything he did was always so...good-natured, innocent, and in his own way absurd...Y/N was never given the chance to be mad.

She’d admit, the whole King Steve thing back in his late Junior year and finishing Senior year was a bit much (little did she know he’d done it to try and gain even an ounce of her attention...being dense himself and not understanding he already had it).

Y/N hadn’t rolled her eyes, or sighed more in her life than when he was in his uphold the name and keep the reputation title...don’t even mention when Hargrove came to town - oooooh, how Harrington made her blood boil -- and yet, Steve would just flash a smile and then trip over air he hadn’t noticed; falling on her bedroom floor, or in the kitchen, or living room...or anywhere possible for Steve to screw it up with his dorkiness -- and she’d still be admiring the way his brown eyes glistened with youth and blamelessness.

It was inexplainable...how she felt for Harrington - really the most difficult thing to concede. He was charming, he was sweet, he was amusing, he was Steve. And she’d been ever so lucky as to see that in him starting from a young age. Y/N couldn’t remember why it had happened...but it had...and she couldn't explain it, not for her life.

It had been late April, Steve’s birthday just around the corner...he had been turning sixteen and he’d found his proper place in their school’s social monarchy already working his way to the top (from his looks to his at-school devious persona...he fit right in). Y/N had always thought he was a bit of a show-boat, but Steve only discerned it as finally figuring out who he was (which was total BS because looking at him now - an eighteen-year-old dork who didn’t have a clue on what to do with the rest of his life...oh, boy had young Stevie been wrong).

His parents had never really been around, which Y/N blamed for his yearn for attention as a young teen. They loved him, of course, they did! -- They just worked a lot, didn’t have a lot of time...and Steve was...well...a lot...of alone. Y/N didn’t accuse him of wanting to seek the approval of his peers. She always told him if that’s what he wanted; she’d make sure he didn’t sink his own (show-boat) ship.

Tommy H. and Carol had been the ones to suggest a big party. They alleged it was his sweet-sixteen and there’d not be another one. Ugh. Y/N had never approved of the pair - Tommy was always rude and had this animalistic manner to everything he did, and Carol was a two-faced backstabber who gossiped more than the bored, middle-aged mothers’ of Hawkins.

Steve hadn’t been too keen on the idea himself - he’d told Y/N in confidence a few nights prior to the birthday bash...(he’d been laying on her bed, throwing and catching one of the stuffed animals she had resting on her mattress - one he’d gotten her to be exact). Why don’t you just tell them that? Steve had only shrugged, squeezing the plushy with a sigh. It’s not that simple, honey. Telling that to Tommy and Carol...is like telling a brick wall to stop talking... -- Steve, how the hell does that work? -- Exactly! It doesn’t!).

Y/N remembered going to that party and finding Steve being jostled around in the midst of it all. An artificial smile that only she knew to be fake in the first place. It didn’t reach his eyes, and his gaze was ducked to the floor...if Tommy H. and Carol had been real friends - they’d have seen how half-assed everything was on Harrington’s behalf.

His pool had been crowded with strangers and Y/N remembered the kitchen and living room not being much different. She’d managed to snag Harrington from the chaos and when he asked her where she was taking him, Y/N had only told Steve to shut up and buckle up.

They drove only a few minutes in soft silence down the road to her house - where he was shocked to see an already made pillow-fort built from her living room; a pile of their favorite/his favorite movies, more junk food than Steve could possibly consume, a mountain of pillows, and a collection of cozy blankets.

W-What’s all-- she’d cut him off, giving Steve a hug from behind and grinning madly. Happy birthday, dork. He’d only smiled, leaning into Y/N’s touch, hands placed over hers; savoring the moment.

That moment...had been when she realized it. He’d been half-asleep, the clock reading a quarter to four in the morning and they’d blown through every movie, picked through every snack, and cuddled with every blanket. Steve’s hair was a hot mess (the long night had drawn out the stray strands and frizzies, and yet he still pulled off the hot part better than anyone else), his eyes held dark-circles under them and he couldn’t keep his head up - a constant battle between slumping and sitting straight.

Steve had been wearing an old red Henley shirt that he’d left at her house; long-sleeved and washed clean for him in case of an emergency like so. He was as shameless as ever, even at sixteen, and had sported his stripped boxers - preferring them to his jeans (not that she’d actually complain...who would?).

Yes - Steve Harrington - the mess on her couch; his head finally falling, finding its spot on Y/N’s shoulder without him knowing...yes...that Steve Harrington was the one she’d fallen in love with in that exact moment.

It felt like a rollercoaster...building up years of friendship and trust, to finally reach the peak - seeing over the edge and only fearing the worst outcome as they began plummeting to the ground...finally reaching that point of no return where the feeling of shock and emotion could only be accepted that this was her reality...the one she’d be stuck with for eternity...her stomach doing worse than flips...

If only Y/N had known...if only she had known that more than a year before Harrington’s sweet-sixteen; a boy walking in the fall with his best friend had too, fallen in love...maybe things would’ve turned out differently. Just maybe...

Steve had finally given the tip back to the shorter girl, ruffling her hat-covered head while Y/N swatted his hand away. They’d all gone back to their actual jobs...Robin coming to do some scooping with Y/N while Steve worked in the back, every now and then switching it up...someone getting tired of taking orders, scooping, or looking through inventory and paper forums.

It wasn’t until Robin opened her mouth that their peaceful unity was broken. Damn theater kids...

“Here’s a tip for you, Steve,” she began while refilling the waffle-cones. “You learn to not be a total dingus when talking to potential customers, and you’ll rack some extra cash!” Rubbing her fingers together, Robin had invisible greens rain down on him.

Y/N could only stifle her laugh, turning head to nod in acknowledgment of another ice cream order. Steve frowned, rolling his eyes.

“Yeah, some tip,” he grumbled,” I’ll give you a tip, Robin...”

Y/N clicked her tongue, turning to face the pair, Steve hanging out the window as she glanced between them. “Stevie, it’s wrong to be jealous of my talents...I mean...not everyone can be as amazing as me,” she sighed while twirling the tip she’d received before his face (what was that? The fourth one?).

“Spare me, hun - I could do so much better if I tried,” he huffed,” Problem is - I’m just trying to be nice to you, don’t wanna just...steal all your tips, darling.”

A shared staring-contest later...and it was official...a contest.

It was simple - whoever could collect the most tips of the two by the end of their shift today, would be proclaimed the “better asset to the company” (that’s how Robin explained it anyway, even forbearing a small portion of her whiteboard to keep count for them).

Luckily for them, it was an early Saturday afternoon, and the middle of summer in Hawkins, Indiana...everyone was at the Starcourt Mall if they weren’t at the pool (Y/N had heard Billy getting a job there made quite the impact).

“Ahoy! How can I help you?”

“You look like you want something sweet - how about a cone of cherry drizzle, sweetheart?”

“No, no! Take your time, dear!”

“I insist -- it’s on the house!”

“You’re literally...the best customer I’ve had! No joke!”

“I won’t lie to you - that’s my favorite flavor too.”

Sprinkling compliments here, a kind smile there, and a charming air all around - and they had themselves a competition. Somehow - Steve had found his nerve, Y/N suspected it was whatever Robin had said to him in the backroom (she’d said You know what - let me borrow him for a quick sec, mhmm, yeah...hold on, Y/N/N). Had it been a pep-talk? Maybe some solid advice...or a shot of courage. Either way - Harrington had suddenly found his cool...

It irritated Y/N to no ends, as every time she’d get a tip - he’d one-up her and get twice the amount she had. “All thanks to this,” he’d bragged, gesturing to himself while sticking his tongue out, leaning in too-close for her heart to handle. She had only scoffed, raising an eyebrow. “You mean to say, that ridiculous outfit is doing you some good, Harrington?” Earning Y/N a thump on her forehead, and Steve a slap to his chest.

Steve was in the lead right now; having received nineteen dollars...alone...in tips. Y/N was only a few dollars behind and she knew that if she really upped the ante, she could push ahead - or at least tie the snarky boy.

“You're up, Y/N,” Robin announced while spinning the black dry-erase between her fingers. They’d taken turns - after choosing a number between one-through-ten...Steve had been closer, and he’d gotten the chance to go first (but that had been rounds ago..).

She shot a look at Steve who only smiled and stretched a limb to boop her nose. She rolled her eyes, pretending to bite at him, the air taking a rather severe snap. Turning to face the customer; she missed Harrington’s flush and slack-jaw (also missing how Robin hit his face to get Steve out of the trance).

“Ahoy, cutie! Would you like to set sail on the ocean of flavor with me? I’ll be your Captain - I’m Y/N...nice to serve you today.” She offered a sweet simper and held her hands behind her back as she bounced on her heels.

The boy before her, had dark hair (hair that had Harrington judged silently...it wasn’t bad...he was just criticizing how the guy managed to get volume like that - did he use Faberge too?!), and green eyes. He was rather tall, taller than Steve to give an image - Y/N suspected six-foot-two...

Broad shoulders and a kind smile to his sharp features. Y/N had to admit - this guy was...not bad looking. Easy on the eyes, at least he gave off that much. He had a blue button-up on and jeans to match, a blue and white windbreaker complimenting him nicely.

He returned her smile and Y/N felt a slight blush find her cheeks.

“Nice to have you serve me too,” he chuckled,” I’m Shawn, though cutie works just as well.” He offered Y/N his hand to shake and she took it, a short giggle bubbling from her lips as he addressed her as Captain.

“Uh-oh,” Robin teased while watching the scene unfold before her. Harrington had absently begun to grip the counter to the point of his knuckles bleeding white. “Is that...jealousy I smell?” Buckley whisper-shouted while her hands came up to pinch her face together - her lips a perfect ‘o’.

Steve ignored her, chewing on his lip as he listened to the flirting this...Shawn...character was displaying. He wasn’t sure why it bothered him so much - maybe because Y/N should only be laughing with him like that, smiling at him like that, and talking to him like that...this dude didn’t even know her last name...(and God, Shawn made it sound like he wanted Y/N to take his last name...).

“The special today is chocolate blast, so...if you’re interested in that - I can assure it’ll be worth your money.” Y/N explained while rotating her scooper, weaving it between her fingers. Shawn gave a nod, and then said,” You know what - surprise me, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart. “Sweetheart?” Steve mumbled while being quietly laughed at by Robin. Steve’s eyes furrowed and he restrained himself from waltzing over and doing something not so company-policy employed.

“Well in that case,” Y/N hummed while glancing at the array of flavors,” I’ll give you a house favorite!” Harrington was one-hundred percent aware of how enchanting Y/N was without even trying...a dangerous skill indeed. Though he wasn’t the only one aware...

He watched the y/c/e eyed girl walk over to their glass-case freezer, leaning down to scoop a large clump of chocolate peanut butter truffle...he couldn’t tell if he were honored to have his favorite ice cream being the choice of surprise (because on one hand, Y/N chose it precisely for Harrington’s reaction, and then, on the other hand, that Steve was sure Y/N didn’t even know existed - she was giving his favorite flavor away to some random dude...).

“Looks delicious,” Shawn complimented, and Steve swears there wasn’t any reason for their hands to touch through the exchange of cone to hand.

Y/N could only nod, turning to the register as she began ringing him up. “Mhm! It’s really good!--,” “Is it your favorite?” the boy interrupted smoothly, leaning his elbows on the counter.

“Haha, no - it’s actually his,” Y/N told while scratching at her neck. The reference to Steve had him hold three fingers up in a weak attempt at hello.

Shawn eyed Harrington, sizing him up before looking back to Y/N (who did this Shawn-guy think he was?!). “Interesting choice.”

As expected, he left (an unnecessarily) large tip...not only pushing Y/N in the lead, but also pushing Steve over the edge.

The opposing man decided to stick around, even after his cone was finished...he sat at a nearby table and was bothering them as they worked (that’s how Steve perceived it anyway...).

Y/N kept getting sidetracked; thus, her score lagging behind Harrington after a few more shoppers... It looked as if she cared on some level - but Steve wasn’t an idiot and he could see how this (not him) alright-looking guy had her attention for the time being.

Normally, he’d ben enthralled to see he’d be winning their contest. He and Y/N had always had these playful kinds of competitions growing up, this wasn’t any different...except it was...because insert this random flirty dude and bam....it throws off everything.

Steve didn’t like the way Shawn would make a specific comment and Y/N would giggle, or shake her head in amusement. Steve didn’t like how Shawn would watch her as she worked - as if trying to remember a hidden pattern. Steve hated how Y/N seemed...okay with this...it drove him absolutely mad.

After roughly fifteen more minutes of Harrington trying to contain his little green gremlin - he gave up. He could only be so nice for so long...after all, he was only just a man.

“Screw this,” he murmured while throwing his hat to the side. Pushing his seat out and walking to the side door (he and Robin had been sitting in the back room while they waited, taking the time to fill a few inventory forums).

Robin raised a brow, peeping out the window to see what exactly had his tailfeather’s ruffled like a sorrowful peacock. She smirked, sputtering her reply.

“Pffft -- y-you really gonna do this? Like...like...first of all, your hat - Harrington, that’s against company policy.” Steve shrugged her off, pressing his back to the door and shoving it the rest of the way open.

“I don’t care,” he hissed. Robin only pursed her lips, arms crossing over her chest. “Mhm...well, customer satisfaction is also part of our company policy...and as far as I can tell,” she urged while her eyes flickered back to the boy talking with Y/N,” He’s looking pretty satisfied.”

Steve grit his teeth, offering a scoff before fulling exiting the room. “Screw company policy.”

“And so I sai--,” “Ahoy! -- I’m Steve,” he greeted loudly, butting into Shawn’s story. Y/N was behind the countertop, replacing an empty tub of plain chocolate with a fresh one when Steve swooped in to do it for her.

He plopped the bucket down and then leaned his arms on the counter, eyes digging into the boy sat at the table-for-two closest to the register. Steve rubbed his cheek and cleared his throat. “Steve - Steve Harrington. Nice to meet you.”

“Uh, Shawn, Shawn Gilson,” the stranger replied,” Nice to meet you t--,”

“So, uh, I dunno if you’re aware, Shawn, but - Scoops’ has this, uh,” Steve interjected while snapping his fingers, shaking his head,” This...thing - where customers who spend...too long here, are considered to be loitering.” He shrugged.

“I don’t mean to be that guy - but you should probably go,” Steve continued with a soft click of his tongue, giving a soft suck of breath as an oh, darn.

Before Shawn could answer properly, Steve was hopped over the countertop, helping the taller boy to stand up. “Yeah, I know -- it’s such a bummer,” he spoke over Shawn’s slow and mumbled objections.

“But - it is company policy...and you know--,” Harington continued, giving a final shove to the man; accidentally putting all his body weight into it,”--I’d hate to break company policy.” He winked, waving the guy off,” I uh, took an oath or something.” Hands on his hips, Steve smiled charmingly as he saw Shawn off; spinning on his heels once he believed the rival brunette a fair distance away.

“Well, that’s one way to take care of it,” Robin commented while smirking, her chin rested in the palm of her hand as she stood next to Y/N.

Y/N, throughout the entire interaction - had been astounded, confused, and then slightly flushed as Robin’s commentary had enlightened her to a few things.

“I know, right? I didn’t t-think that guy would ever leave,” Harrington scoffed, while trying to play it off, running a hand through his hair (a nervous tick Steve had that Y/N always found to be adorable).

Robin rolled her eyes, dropping her head to the countertop. Y/N giggled and walked over to Steve, meeting him halfway - now all three employees standing behind the showcases.

“Why’d you do that, Harrington? He was nice,” she noted while crossing her arms, eyeing him suspiciously. Hoping he couldn’t hear the accelerated pounding of her heart or see the shake in her legs as he placed a hand on the surface of the worktop - awfully close to Y/N from what she could judge.

Steve’s jaw was slack as his tongue skimmed his teeth. He shook his head, eyes flickering from the girl before him, to the ground. “Him? - No, no - he was testing it with me, I don’t know about...nice.” In other words, I didn’t like him and where he stands isn’t clear, but my opinion isn’t positive.

“But he was sweet! -- And I’ll agree, kinda cute.” Thus, Steve’s mind blanked completely. Robin was trying to keep herself together, mumbling a low justification of needing to sign something in the back, and leaving them to their own devices.

“What? Are you crazy? - He was staring at your ass every second you weren’t looking,” he droned,” That’s not the kind of guy you want hanging around, hun,” Steve stated, his expression finding one of bitterness and annoyance.

Y/N couldn’t get another word in, Steve going on a heated rant about how unfit this flirty visitor was for her. He’d been winded afterward, having used a wild amount of hand movements and lecturing quite fast - all in one breath. He finished with slapping his palm to the granite counter, driving back his hair as Steve recollected what he’d just said and what had happened...Shit.

“Tell me, Harrington,” Y/N started while looking up to her tall best friend. “What kind of guy would you want hanging around me?”

He choked on his own spit and took a few heartbeats to figure out what to say without breaking every piece of friendship and relation they already had.

“Well,” Steve sighed, wiping his hands on his ugly uniform, they were clammy and his fingers trembled. “You...you deserve someone who...who knows you. I dunno.”

Steve licked his lips and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, and deciding to just...say it...after five...heartwrenching years of waiting; craving; pining...This probably wasn’t the first time he’d acted so irrationally...just the first time there’d been a girl named Robin to expose him...

“You deserve a guy who won’t give up on you...even after years of doubting himself. Someone who will be there when you’re upset, and never leave when you’re at your lowest point, Y/N/N. A guy who wants nothing more than to make you smile, because...Gosh, do you have such a pretty smile...He’d be satisfied with just seeing you happy - you know? - even if that means he’s not.”

“Someone who loves that...that you always air-dry your hair because it’s easier than doing anything else, even if that guy insists on proper hair care. Darling...you...you deserve someone who cherishes you in every way possible, savoring the way your laugh sounds after you recite some dumb joke, or die a little when you kick ass in the arcade.”

“Someone who knows that you hate reading books with bent pages, and when you walk, you sometimes skip every other step - almost like a hop. Y/N...you deserve someone who has never wanted anything from you...just...just for you to look at them like they look at you.” He lamented.

“And - I know...it’s stupid - but...you deserve someone who won’t just flirt with you because he can. Someone who’ll flirt with you even when you’re with him because he knows you think those stupid pickup-lines and cheesy jokes are endearing.” His voice cracked and he couldn’t help but bite his lip apprehensively.

“I...I...I just think...maybe you’re just...looking in the wrong places,” Steve mumbled. Head hanging low. What the hell was he saying? What the actual hell was he thinking?

“Because...I...I don’t wanna sound like a narcissist...but...I always kinda thought...the kind of guy you’d...you’d end up with--,” he paused his eyes searching Y/N’s for the strength to finish.

“Was me.” He breathed.

Steve exhaled shortly, and restated,” I always thought you’d end up with me, Y/N.”

She’d been quiet throughout his speech. Earlier, while Harrington had been escorting Shawn out...Robin had spoken to her.

You know, he’s in love with you, right? -- W-What? -- Y/N...don’t be serious right now. -- Robin - I-I don’t know what you’re talking about! -- You...you seriously have no idea? Like, seriously, Y/N? -- Robin, I-I don’t know.

All Steve does, is talk about you. Think about you. Want to be with you...he told me he’s loved you since he was fifteen, Y/L/N! -- Why...didn’t he say anything?

Fear is a very powerful sentiment, Y/N. He was scared you wouldn’t return his feelings. -- He...he never acted differently towards me though.

Are you crazy? He practically knows you better than you know you. He didn’t need to act differently because he was just always himself around you. And you see that? See him over there? That, that my friend, is jealousy. Probably one of the most powerful aphrodisiacs there is.

The dirty-blonde had then asked her a question that Y/N had tried to overcome, bury deep within her...to forget about and hopefully never think of again...it...it never had worked.

Do you love him too?

Y/N hadn’t been given the opportunity to clarify, Steve strutting back to them in that oddly proud and embarrassed manner of his. Y/N teased him like she would any other time he acted like a dork...but, asking such a simple question to try and prove Robin right or wrong - had turned the conversation sober faster than her head could keep up with.

Her lungs hurt; had she been breathing throughout the minutes passing? She couldn’t remember - dumbly taking a few gasps, her eyes wide and her hands shaking pulled to her chest. Y/N bit her lip and when she saw the anxiety and panic in Steve’s eyes...she melted.

“I-It took you long enough, Harrington,” she stammered, throwing her arms around his neck, her hat falling off in the process. He tensed at her touch until reality hit and he felt all the air escape his chest - finally sinking into her like he needed her to stand.

Y/N was basking in the moment; relishing the scent of his cologne (the classic Calvin Klein Eternity), the smell of a light floral blended with a woody amber clashed with Steve’s natural musk perfectly. It was comforting. It was absolutely intoxicating.

She hid her face in his shoulder while she felt the tickle of his breath in the crook of her neck. “I...I kinda always thought I’d end up with you too.”

Steve was silent at that, but slowly, slowly; he erupted into laughter. Laughing at himself for having been so scared all these years! After all that damn time...she’d felt the same way! Waiting probably just as long as him! Patiently waiting for Steve’s cowardly self to man up! After all this damn time...she had loved him too.

Robin was slow clapping, using a fake, posh accent to congratulate them. “Bravo, bravo! Steve finally grew a pair!” Y/N was laughing, the vibration of Harrington’s own excitement leaking into her reaction.

The freckled girl gasped, slapping her hands on the counter as she leaned out the shutters. “Dingus - you know what this means...right?” Steve’s face was blank, his arms tightly wound around Y/N still as he tried to figure out what Robin was referring to.

When it hit him, he gave this strangled noise of accomplishment. Harrington picked Y/N off her feet and swung her around a bit, clumsily knocking a few paper bowls to the ground (not that it wasn’t unusual for him to do something so senseless).

“I-It means I rock!” He gushed while placing Y/N to sit on the countertop, jumping around like a child. Just another reason Y/N had fallen in love with him...he never seemed to grow up fully, but she was okay with that...things never got old with Steve.

Robin nodded somberly, pulling the notorious chart back out and drawing on that one, single line that Harrington had been anticipating...

“Yes!” He shouted, not caring eyes from outside the shop were staring. “I finally did it! Fuck! In your face, Robin!” He leered with a bright smile. Buckley rolled her eyes.

“Mhm, don’t get ahead of yourself, dingus. You haven’t actually asked her out... I can take this victory away, you know?” Robin threatened while hovering a hand over the lone tally-mark.

The brunette whipped around, his hair tousled from his jumpiness. He stepped to Y/N quickly who had only been laughing at his interaction with Robin; taking her by surprise when he stood between her legs, hand cupping her face. Steve’s free arm snaked around her waist. His smile looked like it hurt, but Steve didn’t seem to mind.

“So...,” he started, enjoy the display of pink on Y/N’s beautiful features. His mind wandered back to their earlier competition and he bit his lip, trying to contain the satisfaction. “I won our little challenge...,” he drawled while pressing his forehead to hers.

Y/N sighed, rolling her eyes. She pinched his cheek and poked his side. “After all...that...you ruin the moment with this? Cocky much?”

“No, no, let me finish,” he chuckled, his brown eyes glistening with affection and adoration. “I have about twenty-five extra dollars to spend,” he explained,” Whaddya say to me treating you to a date? I mean...how else can I cheer you up? You must be so sad about losing to the likes of me.”

Y/N grinned. “Oh, but of course -- I don’t think I’ll ever recover from a loss like that...sighhhh...the only cure is...dinner and a movie?” Y/N expressed dramatically leaning back from his chest, a hand pulled to her forehead.

Steve pouted. “Wait...you just asked me on the date...I...I was supposed to ask you!” Y/N shrugged,” Does it matter?”

“Yes! It does matter! You can’t take this from me!” He cried while shaking his head and jutting his lip out.

Y/N snorted, shaking her head at how utterly adorable Steve was. “Fine...I take it back. No dinner and a movie.”

Silence followed.

“This was supposed to be more romantic, you know, but you fucking ruined it,” Harrington accused while laughing, his serious expression breaking.

Y/N scoffed, striking his chest. “Listen, Sailor Boy - if you weren’t such a moron yo--,” and then he kissed her.

It was soft, it as sweet, it was better than anything she’d ever imagined. Her arms circled his neck and his hand pulled Y/N’s face to his as close as humanly possible--

“We run a business, guys,” Robin reminded while gagging and flicking Steve in the forehead as she walked around the counter, trying to awkwardly apologize to a couple that neither Y/N nor Harrington noticed.

Steve helped her slide off the countertop, mumbling a hello to the customers. He looked to Y/N and smothered his amusement at her red face.

While Robin was serving the pair, Steve tried to be useful and helped Y/N fix their topping containers. “So,” he started, clearing his throat and closing the lid of rainbow sprinkles. “Let me try again.”

Y/N hummed, egging him on.

“Y/N - the girl of my dreams, the person I’ve had a crush on for five terrible years...Will you go on a date with me?” Steve asked, turning to face her with a soft smile. “Please?” He added quickly.

Y/N popped a chocolate-chip in her mouth, a small smirk playing on her pink lips. “I would love to go on a date with you, Steve. After all, you did say please.”

Steve didn’t regret breaking company policy...no...not at all.

a/n footer: I thought this request was sooo cute! <3 I hope it’s to your liking @billyhargrovescigarette :) I loveddddd writing it!

Tagged List: @novaddictx @mairalynn416 @wefracturedmotivation @truthdaze @xxcxrolinexx @savingprivatecass @emmalbg @timeladygallifrey @the-first-breath-of-autumn-air @billyhargrovescigarette @krystalane @truthdaze @neverlandsoundsgood @friendlyneighbourhoodmercenary @imarockstar145 @foryoubarnes @winchestergirl907 @anniethepanda @gwenebear @lavenderluvs @werdenkt @just-ladyme @un-deroos

#stranger things #stranger things imagine #steve harrington #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fluff #joe keery

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 5 years

Text

Witness : 18

Ensnared

moodboard created by @chuuulip

Character(s): dark!Bucky, later dark!Steve, too

Warnings: this is a dark!fic, it contains non/dubious-consent elements. Some violence as well at the beginning. It goes without (and with) that this is 18+.

Summary: Just as our reader is coming to terms with her situation, things get a little more complicated.

Notes: We’re all caught up on Tumblr! If you read, I love feedback and would love any comments you have. And if you can, please share! Anyhow, enjoy :)

“You been to the shop yet?” Steve’s voice interrupted your thoughts. The moment you had gotten into his car you had zoned out. The last few days had been confusing. Ever since your car had shit out and you had been further entrapped between your keeper and the man next to you. Even two days after the fact you were still sore from Bucky’s last visit, he had been alarmingly absent in the last few days. Worse was that you found yourself wanting him to show up as thoughts of him sent ripples up your spine. He had somehow conditioned you to want him, if only physically. Your body was countered by the loathing which filled your mind; both for him and yourself.

“No, I...haven’t had a chance,” You shifted in the seat and forced your gaze from the building passing outside the window. The drives hadn’t become any less awkward, especially since Bucky had questioned you on your attraction to Steve. Sure he was a good looking guy but he was also a murderer. Much like his buddy, he was a paradox. You couldn’t deny that his eyes were gorgeous or that his muscles didn’t perfectly line his shoulders under his finely cut button-ups. “Might just look into a new car. That old one…” You trailed off, not giving much effort to finishing the sentence. You hadn’t really thought about what to do about the car.

“Well, me and Bucky leave tonight. Another mission,” He pulled into your lot, shifting into park as he spoke, “Maybe you can rent a car in the meantime...you sure you don’t wanna borrow mine? I can leave it here and catch a cab.”

“I can’t do that. You’ve already done more than you should,” You unbuckled your seatbelt, offering a weak smile, “I’ll be just fine when you’re gone.”

“Yeah,” He sighed, glancing out the windshield and back to you, his blue eyes foretold of intrigue. You tilted his head as his chest rose, a breath drawn deep as he weighed his next words. “I’ll miss these little rides...time spent with you. Alone.”

“Ah, really?” You sounded like a child. You were ready to grab your purse and go. The heat was spreading up your chest, crawling along your neck, combusting as he finally looked at you. “I should get go--”

Before you could finish, his mouth was on yours, smothering you as he pushed you against the seat. He was almost on top of you as he leaned over the console, his hand cradling your head as he caught you by surprise. He kissed you as if he would devour you then and there, your arms trapped between your bodies. You struggled against him, your squeaks confused for moans as you could barely breathe.

Finally, you managed to turn your head from him. “Steve,” You rasped, “Please, you--we can’t.” He slowly pushed himself away from you, sitting back heavily in his seat. “It’s not--not professional.” Your hand was on your chest as you tried to steady your heart. “I’m sorry.”

“No, no, I--” His eyes were sharp and a smirk curved his lips, his eyes watching you close. His voice betrayed a darkness which had risen to the surface. He swallowed as he tried to suppress this carefully controlled impulse. He cleared his throat and his expression turned placid; he was suddenly the golden avenger, valiant and gentle. “I’m sorry. I just...I’ve been wanting to do that for so long. Kiss you, that is, and it got the best of me, you know?” He reached you, softly caressing your cheek, “You’re just so…” He measured his next word before he finished, “Pretty.”

“Uh,” You looked out the windshield and then the window beside you. What if Bucky was watching? What if he had seen it and thought that you had welcomed it? “It’s, I just...I don’t think it would be very well received if you and I, well, you know, we work together…”

“I understand,” He rescinded his hand and nodded. He gripped the steering wheel with his other and smiled. “I can wait. I mean this is temporary right? You have what, a couple months left? After, when you’re somewhere else, we’ll do this the right way?”

“I, uh, dunno,” You said evasively, “Really, I…” Your lip was trembling as you nervously reached down for your purse, “Ask me then and we’ll figure it out, okay?” You tried to sound calm but your voice nearly cracked as you reached for the door handle, “Thanks for the ride.”

“No problem,” He seem completely unfazed by your indecisive response. “I’ll be back on Tuesday morning. Same time?”

“Sure,” You opened the door and stepped out, “Sounds good.”

“See ya then,” He chimed and you closed the door.

The moment it shut you saw his face change; that same shadow came over him and you turned away quickly. It was the same look Bucky got when he had you at his mercy. A desire so deep and dark it could not be sated. You hurried away, your paranoia fueling a hasty retreat as you feared him following you. When at last you were inside and the door locked with a buzz behind you, you caught your breath. You had to tell Bucky, but how could you explain it without incriminating yourself?

Tuesday morning. The weekend seemed to breeze by after Steve's departure though in the moment, the minutes seemed to drag by. You had replayed the scene which had unfolded in his car a thousand times and imagined that which would follow once you told Bucky. You had to tell him; those were the rules but you couldn't be sure how he would react. Maybe he'd praise you as ‘good’ for your honesty but it could be countered by remonstrance for leading Steve on. Even if it had been unintentional. You weren't the type to read too much into flirting, usually seeing it as less. This time your total obliviousness could see to your oblivion.

You had woken up early as sleep hadn't come easily. You were in no way looking forward to seeing Steve even if it did mean you wouldn't have to take the subway. Maybe you should just learn to tolerate public transport but you had tried that. There was little arguing with the super soldier. You had been so overwhelmed by his descent upon you that you had agreed to carry on the whole carpooling fiasco. You couldn't imagine it leading to anything but more trouble.

Your phone buzzed and you reluctantly scanned the lock screen. Steve's message blipped up in a floating rectangle; ‘I'm here ;)’. You swiped away the notification and grabbed your jacket. It was growing even brisker in New York and soon the autumn leaves might even blow to winter flakes. You had your purse on your elbow, phone still in hand as you locked the door. Your phone rumbled again: ‘Tonight’ was the single-word promise of Bucky. You sent it away as you had the previous message and your keys shook in your hand, jingling in reflection of your sudden anxiety. Yes, you would tell him tonight. At least if you were straightforward he might have mercy. Pfft, you smiled wryly at your hopeful thoughts as you took the stairs one at a time. Bucky was not the type to forgive easily.

Steve's car was pulled up almost right to the door, idling in a slant unconcerned with other drivers. You braced yourself for the tension which would stifle you once your opened that door. He smiled as you climbed in beside him. “Good morning,” he chimed as you balanced your bag on your lap and buckled your belt, “How was your weekend?”

“Short,” You answered, deflating under his unwavering gaze. Monday had passed uneventfully and surely this day would more than make up for the lack of bullshittery. His eyes strayed from your face, lingering on the nylon stretched across your knees. You shifted uncomfortably and tried to ignore his errant eyes. “How was your mission? If you can tell me?”

“It was a mission.” He answered dryly, finally turning his attention to the wheel and pulling out of the lot. “Lonely…” He said cloyingly, “Boring. It's almost too easy these days. These idiots Stark has us going after are like fish in a barrel.” He seemed to catch himself before he could ramble, “Well, I'll spare you the gritty details.”

A chill washed over you as a flash of the parking lot filled your mind. You bit your lip in sudden terror. This man was the same you had witnessed on that fateful night, heartlessly slaying a man for a dollar sign. You had heard the value he placed on life and it was utterly horrifying. He would have as little regard for yours if it was offered up for a stack of bills. Your chest was tight and you felt the panic rising.

“Hey, are you okay?” Steve had come to red light, his hand on your shoulder as your eyes had fixed blindly on the road ahead. You shook your head, trying to ward off the fear which had overcome you.

“S-sorry, I didn't sleep very well. What did you say?” You clasped your hands on your purse strap.

“I was asking about your car. Any progress?” He didn't sound like a murderer. He almost sounded like a normal person genuinely concerned with your troubles.

“I got approved for a lease but I just gotta go to the dealership and choose a car…” You had been looking into a solution; a way out of this carpool but your mind was too frazzled to focus on anything for too long. “Still trying to decide if I want to add to my bills. I think I might just get a subway pass and wait till my life's a little more...stable.”

“Hmm,” His eyes were on the road ahead as he thought. “What if you were to stay at Stark Tower? I'm sure Pepper doesn't wanna deal with an endless line of temps and you seem to fit well.”

“I...dunno,” Your cheek twitched nervously. What excuse could you make not to stay? It was well-paying job, not too far a commute, and rather cushy if you did say so yourself. If it wasn't for the predatory super soldiers, it'd be perfect.

“I can put in a good word for you,” He offered, the shadows of the parking garage rippling over you as he pulled into Stark Tower. “Your three months would account for your probation period and then...well we could go to HR and have all the messy stuff sorted out.” He killed the engine and looked to you as he spoke, “I mean, I've been thinking of it and you and me, that's barely a conflict of interest. Tony and Pepper are married, Vision and Wanda are together, Nat and Bruce even had a bit of a fling there for a while. And you, you're not even on the team. You're a secretary. We don't really work together. Just in the same building on occasion.”

“Steve,” Your voice was whispy as if it was caught in your throat, “Woah, I… I'm flattered really but I have a lot going on right now.”

His eyes dilated for a second, his face darkened for just a glimmer, but his facade quickly resumed. He smiled. “I get it,” He nodded, “And I don't want you to rush into anything just tell me that when you are ready, you'll give me a chance.”

“Uhhh,” You stammered, trying to think of anything to escape.

“Come on, you can't deny that there's something here,” He reached over and touched your paled knuckles as you gripped your purse nervously, “Just give me a chance when the time comes. Can you do that?”

Your leg was jiggling and you forced it to stop. You nodded dumbly, desperate to get away before he could jump you again. “Fine, fine. Just not now, you know? My life is...complicated.”

“Sure,” He smiled, letting out a sigh of relief. “I can wait.”

How long would you be able to delay him with these empty promises? You suspected he wasn't the type to forget and you'd already learned that he did not take no for an answer. You stepped out of the car, ready to bolt but keeping your calm enough that you could follow Steve into the main building. You suddenly remembered Bucky and the conversation that awaited you. How on Earth would you convince him that you were being good?

#dark!bucky #dark!bucky barnes #dark bucky #dark bucky barnes #dark!fic #darkverse #au #fic #series #witness #mcu #marvel #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fic #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader

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trishmilburn · 5 years

Text

An Exploration of The Untamed’s Romance & Mystery, Episode 6

Disclaimer: This post and others in this series will be filled with loads of spoilers if you haven’t seen The Untamed, the Chinese drama based on Mo Xiang Tong Xiu’s novel, Mo Dao Zu Shi (The Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation). My chief interest in doing this series as I re-watch the drama is to chronicle the development of the romance between Wei Ying and Lan Zhan, but I also highlight the progression of the mystery that helps bring them together. Keep in mind that I’m writing these posts with the knowledge of what’s going to happen throughout the series and having read the novel. If you’d like to read my examinations of previous episodes, links are provided at the end of this post.

On to Episode 6…

We begin with Nie Huaisang sneakily knocking on Wei Ying’s lodging at the Cloud Recesses with what we assume is a prearranged secret knock. When Wei Ying asks what took him so long, Huaisang says he went to get peanuts. Our sweet, pre-calculating Huaisang was late because of snacks. We soon see that these peanuts are to be washed down by Emperor’s Smile as Wei Ying, Nie Huaisang and even Jiang Cheng sit around talking, Wei Ying and Huaisang waxing poetic about how much the love wine. Chronically surly Jiang Cheng tells them that if they like it so much, they should just stalk the smell of wine to find their immortal partners. And now I’m imagining Wei Ying drunk and seeing Lan Zhan as a giant jar of Emperor’s Smile.

Jiang Cheng’s comment leads to Wei Ying teasing him about all the stipulations he has for his own partner in life, which of course doesn’t sit well with his brother, who starts to chase Wei Ying around the room. Enter Lan Zhan, who arrives just in time to see the three of them wrestling on the bed. Lan Zhan calmly asks what they’re doing, probably thinking that they’ve never had such upheaval at the Cloud Recesses until Wei Ying showed up. The boy just can’t stay out of trouble.

Wei Ying’s reaction to the local rule enforcer showing up? Of course, he tries to get him to join in the fun, even tugging on the arm of Lan Zhan’s robe with his fingers. Seriously, this is cute flirting, and Wei Ying is too dense to realize it. Predictably, Lan Zhan says alcohol is prohibited in the Cloud Recesses, and Wei Ying proceeds to basically call him a fuddy-duddy again. Lan Fuddy Duddy tells them to report to the Discipline Hall for punishment, thus sending Jiang Cheng and Nie Huaisang running out looking as if they are about to toss their cookies. But Wei Ying, not ready to stop being mischievous yet, slaps a paper talisman on Lan Zhan’s back. And just like that Lan Zhan is docile and under Wei Ying’s control. Soon, however, Wei Ying realizes why Lan Zhan doesn’t drink. One tiny cup of wine and he passes out drunk! When his head lolls over on the table, we get the first moment of Wei Ying touching Lan Zhan in a tender way when he lightly touches his face. Realizing that Lan Zhan won’t be able to make it back to his own room, Wei Ying puts him to bed, then has a bit of fun by having Lan Zhan call him Elder Brother. But we see how ingrained the protection of the Lan forehead ribbon is when Wei Ying tries to touch Lan Zhan’s and Lan Zhan swats his hand away. But when Wei Ying tells him that it’s crooked, cute drunk Lan Zhan bolts upright and tries to straighten it. Again, Wei Ying tries to help. And again, Lan Zhan swats his hand away, saying that the headband is important. Only his parents, wife or child can touch it. This is important. Remember this.

Wei Ying says that the Lan Clan has so many rules, who would want to marry Lan Zhan? He tells him that he’s going to be single for life. This is heartbreaking to me as a viewer because I know what Lan Zhan is going to go through during those sixteen years between Wei Ying’s death and his second life. He is going to be alone and thinking he will be for the rest of his life, all with the knowledge that he never told Wei Ying how he really felt. It’s part of the reason why he spends every day of those years playing “Inquiry” on his zither, trying to connect to Wei Ying’s spirit but without success.

Another heartbreaking moment is when Lan Zhan responds to Wei Ying’s jab with, “That’s fine.” I have to wonder if this is partly because of his parents’ sad story but also possibly a part of him acknowledging that he likely won’t get married because he’s not attracted to women. Wei Ying seems stunned by this response and continues to tease, saying Lan Zhan’s father probably so dull that his mom is bored. When Lan Zhan confesses that he doesn’t have a mother, it takes a few moments and some unthinking comments before he realizes what Lan Zhan means and sees the sadness that a non-drunk Lan Zhan would never show to anyone, least of all this frustrating young man next to him. To offer empathy and in another effort to make a connection with Lan Zhan, Wei Ying shares how his parents died when he was only four. The only memory he has of them is his mother beside him telling a joke as Wei Ying rides on a donkey. This is one of those moments when doing this re-watch has helped me make a connection I didn’t before. That memory probably feeds into his affection for Little Apple. There will be other such “aha” moments later in this episode.

Next we see Lan Xichen talking with his uncle after Lan Qiren has returned from the Discussion Conference. Qiren reveals that similar strange things have been happening in Qinghe, the seat of the Nie Clan, as have been happening in Gusu.

Then we’re back to someone knocking on Wei Ying’s door again, which wakes him up after his night of drunken revelry. But then he remembers there is evidence of said drunken revelry and Lan Zhan is still passed out drunk in his bed, at least until his rolls out into the floor, still completely out.

When a Lan disciple reports to Qiren and Xichen that Wei Ying and some others were drinking the night before, Qiren angrily says Wei Ying is just like his mother, which Xichen finds quietly humorous – at least until he hears that Lan Zhan was among those drinking.

Oh, here comes the punishment part of the misbehavior cycle. Wei Ying doesn’t understand why Lan Zhan insists on receiving punishment when it wasn’t his fault that he drank. Wei Ying tries to plead with Qiren not to punish his nephew, but the Lans seemed determined to go through with the 300 beatings on the back with one big-ass ruler called a ferule that is more like a plank. Also, 300 strikes? Wow. Even Xichen admits this was an excessive punishment when he encounters Yanli helping Wei Ying and also comforting Jiang Cheng, who got 50 whacks with the big-ass ruler. Qiren was obviously more upset by Wei Ying’s continued mischief and his corruption of Lan Zhan, Qiren’s star pupil, than by the actual drinking. Xichen tells Wei Ying that it will take about two weeks for his wounds to heal but says he’ll send him to a place that will help him heal faster. Wei Ying asks Xichen how Qiren knew Wei Ying’s mother, and Xichen responds that the two were classmates.

We haven’t seen the Wens in a while. Let’s see what they’re up to. I’m sure it’s nothing good. Wen Qing is communicating with Wen Ruohan via magic talisman, telling him about the waterborne abyss and how Wen Ning’s eyeballs turned white. Wen Ruohan determines this means the Yin Metal his conniving self is looking for is in the water.

Oh, we have arrived at the section of our program known as Naked Lan Zhan. Hee hee hee. Lan Zhan is soaking in the cold water springs to heal his wounds. Remember Xichen telling Wei Ying he’d tell him where to go to help heal his wounds faster? He had to know his little brother would be there, too. I’m telling you, Xichen is the biggest WangXian shipper there is. And for someone who was hobbling along with his arm around his sister’s shoulders not long ago, Wei Ying sure does move fast once he sees Lan Zhan in the pool. Not to mention how excited he is. Poor dense Wei Ying, all he knows is that he wants to be close to Lan Zhan without having a clue why.

Lan Zhan, at least on the surface, is less thrilled by having his solitary soak interrupted, especially when Wei Ying comes sloshing into the water with more enthusiasm than poor repressed Lan Zhan has ever expressed in his young life. Lan Zhan, now clothed, asks how he came to be there, and Wei Ying says that Xichen sent him. Lan Zhan has to be wondering by now why his big bro keeps pushing the two of them toward each other. Like a big, happy puppy, Wei Ying tells Lan Zhan that he really wants to be his friend. Of course Lan Zhan says he doesn’t want it. Yeah, sure. Then comes some hilarious unintentional innuendo when Wei Ying says there are lots of benefits to being his friend and then starts to take off his clothes. Um, friends with benefits, perhaps? Lan Zhan asks what in the world he’s doing, even though he himself was naked in that pool a little while ago. As he starts to leave, Wei Ying quickly says he won’t take off his clothes in an obvious attempt to get Lan Zhan to stop running away from him.

Wei Ying starts telling Lan Zhan, who did indeed halt his departure, about Yunmeng and says if Lan Zhan comes to Lotus Pier, he’ll gather lotus seed pods and water chestnuts for him. Yes, totally something you’d tell a guy friend to entice him to come visit you. Lan Zhan, still aloof, says he’s not going, to which Wei Ying thinks he’s sweetening the pot by saying there are a little of pretty girls in Yunmeng. Oh honey, that’s not going to help your cause.

Wei Ying senses something strange and asks Lan Zhan if he senses it as well right before Wei Ying is pulled under the water. Lan Zhan grabs Bichen and starts after Wei Ying, but then he’s pulled under as well. They tumble into a secret cave below the cold water pool, and Lan Zhan looks genuinely surprised at its existence. As they ventured further into the cave, Lan Zha spots a guqin/zither and heads toward it. Wei Ying follows, but the guqin sends out a wave of magic, knocking Wei Ying back off his feet. It continues to do this, a method called chord assassination, until Lan Zhan uses Bichen to halt it.

Once he’s safe, Wei Ying notices several white bunnies which are wearing the Lan forehead ribbons. Thinking how the forehead ribbons are connected to their wearers and offer protection, he calls out to Lan Zhan, who, coming to the same conclusion, uses his forehead ribbon to connect his own wrist with Wei Ying’s. Remember that whole conversation earlier in which drunk Lan Zhan said that only his parents, wife or child could touch his forehead ribbon? Yeah, they’re married now, LOL. Okay, not really. That comes later. But it is significant that Lan Zhan is willing to create this connection between them to protect Wei Ying. He could have told him to just not approach the guqin anymore, but he willingly connected himself to Wei Ying instead. It’s an important first step made by Lan Zhan, who up until this point has done whatever he could to distance himself from Wei Ying, his antics and perhaps an attraction he either has not yet recognized or has no idea how to handle.

Now connected to Lan Zhan, Wei Ying is able to accompany him as Lan Zhan sits at the guqin and plays “Inquiry” to connect with any spirits nearby. This song will become important in their future investigations during Wei Ying’s second life as well as when he’s dead and Lan Zhan is desperately trying to connect to whatever is left of him. They now hear lots of voices of the clans attaching another sect and calling out to destroy the Yin Metal, something that neither of them has ever heard of. Next comes a section of the show that feels as if it was a confused blur to me during my first viewing but has many “aha!” moments during this second viewing.

Lan Yi, a Lan ancestor who was the first and only female leader of the Lan Clan, shows up and tells them that the Yin Metal is cursed and that she’s a part of its cursed history.

Meanwhile, Xichen tells Qiren he’s sent people out to look for Wei Ying and Lan Zhan, who have been discovered missing now. There is worry that whoever is behind the nefarious things that have been happening may have taken them. We see Jiang Cheng telling his obviously tired sister to rest by the river while he continues to search. After he and the other searchers leave, she slips on a rock and starts to fall backward but is caught by Jin Zixuan. Though their relationship is strained, it’s obvious these two are smitten with each other by the way they look into each other’s eyes for long moments before pulling apart. Jin Zixuan tells her to be careful and then leaves with his clan members to resume his own searching.

Back in the cave, Lan Yi reveals that she has used all her spiritual energy to suppress the Yin Metal and then tells Wei Ying and Lan Zhan the history of this dangerous artifact. Once upon a time, the Yiling Burial Mound (which we’ll see more of later in the story when Wei Ying becomes the Yiling Patriarch) was once a spiritual mountain and cultivator Xue Chonghai was the state preceptor with the strongest magical power. This was one of those light bulb moments for me since it hit me that this guy must be an ancestor of Xue Yang, who we’ll meet later on in what is known as the story’s Yi City Arc. After all, Xue Yang’s work with the Yin Metal would make sense if that kind of work has a history in his family. Wen Ruohan probably knows about the connection and thus why he recruits Xue Yang to work for him.

Anyway, Xue Chonghai was the first to use the Yin Metal, which was a natural treasure that could absorb nature’s natural aura, to absorb the resentment of the humans he sacrificed for this purpose. With this Yin Metal, he controlled the Black Tortoise of Slaughter and slaughtered many sects. Wei Ying deduces that in response the five great sects joined forces to kill Xue Chonghai. When Lan Yi says that Wei Ying is indeed very smart, Lan Zhan glances briefly toward him. Despite Wei Ying’s misbehavior, this is the second person Lan Zhan respects (the other being his brother) who have had positive things to say about him.

We see a brief flashback of a crazy looking Xue Chonghai when the sects arrived to take him out. The first one in the door was Wen Mao, the founder of the Qishan Wen Clan of which Wen Ruohan is now the head, and Xue Chonghai says that he’ll meet the same kind of end.

Lan Yi states that the slaughter of the sects turned the spiritual mountain into a burial mound, and the Yin Metal had absorbed so many spiritual consciousnesses that the resentment was too strong to be eliminated. Xue Chonghai had tainted it forever. The fives sects agreed that the only way to suppress its power was to break it into pieces and hide it, and never tell any of their descendants about it. Obviously, Wen Mao didn’t keep his mouth shut because Wen Ruohan is having visions of using it for dominance over all the sects, thus ensuring it will leave more death and misery in its already horrible wake.

So we’ve gotten more information about the mysterious Yin Metal and some first steps of Lan Zhan warming a fraction toward Wei Ying. He might be able to convince himself he was just doing his duty in protecting another cultivator in that cave, but the fact that he used his forehead ribbon to literally tie himself to Wei Ying was significant, even more so than he realizes.

Previous posts in this series:

Episode 1

Episode 2

Episode 3

Episode 4

Episode 5

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peachyteabuck · 5 years

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fashión (bucky barnes x reader)

Summary: At one of your best friend’s drag shows, Bucky catches your eye. Maybe it’s the alcohol, maybe it’s the dance pop blaring through the bar’s speakers, but for some reason you’re feeling a little more daring than usual.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Words: 2,536

Trigger Warnings: Blowjobs, shitty flirting, people are drunk and do sex things

Notes/Other: This was done for @propertyofpoeandbucky ‘s mystery writing challenge!! My prompt was “You’re my best friend. How could I put anyone before you?” and has been bolded within the fic! Also, I feel like this is the total opposite of what I’ve written recent but when I got this prompt I knew this wip was perfect for it.

ask box / masterlist / commission info / ko-fi

Dating has always been hard for you. Friends and family have always tried to set you up on dates - as has Tindr - but nothing seemed to stick. No one ever seemed to do the trick.

“C’mon, babe…” your friend coos to you. You’re in a dressing room at some fast-fashion establishment, the wide and tall mirror forcing you to stare back at yourself. The too-bright lights burn your eyes, the top radio hits from last year only depress you, and the smell of weed and regret radiating from your skin is making you want a sandwich. “Listen, I know you don’t want to do this-”

Your sigh cuts her off. “Then why are you making me?”

She steps over to you, readjusting the floral jacket before speaking. As you look in the mirror you realize actually kind of…like it. Which is weird. “Because I know better than you, you’re a shut-in, and every moment you’re not being ravished by a muscular hot dude physically kills me.”

God, her brazen personality always catches you off guard. That’s probably why she’s the performer and you just sit alone in the basement of your shared home - sewing and eating and writing all day.

In the end, you don’t buy the jacket. Lucy ends up taking you to her favorite thrift shop and you pick up a deep blue faux-fur coat and some velvet heels in the same shade. Boujie? Maybe. But it’s something you feel confident in, so you don’t grumble too much when you see the total.

You both get to the club early so she can get ready, focus on turning her face into the inside of an elementary schooler’s pencil case – one young enough to understand that there’s never such thing as too much stationary (or too much color) but young enough to constantly be losing caps. As she steps into the threshold of the famous bar, Lucy’s met with jeers from janitors and bartenders and sound techs alike – all people ecstatic to see their favorite person like a dog left alone during a long work day. As she greets them with the same overjoyed smiles, you slip past the jolly merriment to the dressing room in the back of the building – her outfit bag and make up suitcase in your hands, her shoes and wig in your hefty backpack. Despite the outfit you’d picked out earlier you’re donning the same outfit you’d been wearing since the techie days of middle school – black jeans, black t-shirt one size too big, and all black sneakers. All the better to blend in.

Three hours later Lucy has officially turned into Boudoir Z, her drag persona and the username for her long-abandoned Neopets account. The club is packed with people, almost as tight as her dress is with her pads, and some old Kesha song thumps the floor to its beat.

“Are you ready?” you ask, double checking her hands for any loose nails.

She grins as wide as she does right before every show, eyes bright and sparkling like a child on Christmas. “Hell yeah.”

As her intro song starts you scurry away to find your way to the bar, hoping to grab something strong before the show really starts. You don’t really like attending your friend’s (or anyone’s) drag shows, they’re loud and crowded and normally that’s your definition of Hell. Sometimes, though, you can muster up the energy. For whatever reason, today seems to be one of those days. Or nights.

Whatever. Time is an illusion.

The first few beats of the song are long, edited for artificial pauses to build excitement in the crowd. You know the version of Lady Gaga’s Applause well, so it throws your entire brain through a loop when someone pumps into you when you try and grab your rum and coke.

“Sorry,” the guy hisses, immediately moving to make sure he didn’t spill any of his wine cooler on you. You’re about to brush him off, thinking he’s just another guy trying to cop a feel while the main attraction distracts from any protective butches within eye shot. But when you notice he’s carefully avoiding your chest – and pulling away when he notices the lack of dampness on your sternum – you allow yourself to give him a half glance at the brick wall of a man in front of you.

God, you’re so ashamed you noticed that. You’re also ashamed to notice his thick thighs, massive arms, silver hand with black lining, his perfectly mused brown-black hair, and beautiful scruff.

“H-hi,” you stutter, deep exhale one close to dramatic women in movies when they think they’ve seen God. Good luck ladies, I’ve already found him – he’s in the shadiest gay bar in NYC. you think as he shyly smiles at you with cheeks you want to shove between your thighs and lips you want attached to your-

“I’m so sorry,” he tells you, checking again to make sure he didn’t turn your shirt into a bar tap. “I got distracted by-“

You sigh. Of course, he was looking at Lucy. “It’s fine, really, I promise.”

In a brief pause between songs, you two lock eyes. Grey-green ones meet your own and fuck, he’s so dreamy.

“I’m,” he seems hesitant to introduce himself. “Bucky. Name’s Bucky.”

You murmur your own name while looking him up and down again. Black combat boots perfectly shined, black jeans tight enough to rival your own, and black hoodie thick enough for winter in Upstate Main.

“Aren’t you hot?” you blurt, alcohol loosening your brain’s tight grip on your thoughts.

The man, Bucky, shrugs. “I run pretty cold.”

Another few moments of silence dialogue between you two - and judging by his set jaw and the hungry look in his eyes he’s thinking the same thing you are.

But, if you’re anything besides an introverted stylist, seamstress, and occasional therapist for the person up on the stage…it’s a tease.

You lean towards Bucky’s ear, music starting up again. “Wanna come join me close to the stage?”

He smiles, picking his drink back up. “Sure thing.”

Lucy, as always, is dressed to impress. Or scare small children.

Either way one perceives her, she’s killing it.

The large, sheer nightgown’s puffed sleeves make the look even more dramatic. The black contrasts extremely nicely with her large platinum blonde hair, and combined with her large, maroon lips and thick, pointed eyeliner - it’s a nice reminder that drag is both an art and something weird as hell. Watching your best friend to what they love and truly one of the best experiences of your life.

The pair of you are off stage left, Lucy on the other side grinding on some speakers. As some Nicki Minaj song plays, you can feel Bucky bounce to the beat behind you. He’s got a surprising amount of rhythm, and as your hips sync his body presses closer and closer to your own. It doesn’t take long, maybe half a chorus for it to turn into full-on grinding, your ass pressed into his crotch so hard you’re worried he’s going to be bruised when he wakes up tomorrow.

Bucky doesn’t seem to mind, though, nipping at the outer shell of your ear with his lips pressed into the tender skin.

“You do this kind of thing often?” he asks, already deep voice now at a low growl.

You shake your head, moving to take another sip of your drink before answering. “Not really, but Lucy is my best friend so sometimes I get dragged,” you snort a little at your unintentional pun. “To shows and stuff.”

Bucky snickers a little. “That’s totally not what I was asking about, but you also don’t seem like the person who’d be friends with Boudoir Z.”

Your cheeks immediately heat hotter than the Equator as you attempt to backpedal. After a few seconds of stammering, though, the liquid courage surging through your veins comes to a head. “Can I suck your dick?”

You turn to face the man behind you, who seems just as surprised at your inquiry as you are. Still, with his eyebrows raised to his hairlines and his eyes wide, he agrees. “Fuck yeah, lead the way.”

The bathrooms here are surprisingly clean, even if the lock of the door doesn’t quite work. But, judging by the second Pink song of the night, you’ve got awhile before the masses become unoccupied and their bladders realize how much alcohol they’ve consumed.

He shoves you against the tiled wall, lips plush and a stark contrast to his scratchy beard. You want it between your thighs, you sigh into his mouth and a wave of heat rolls through your center. But that’ll have to wait for another time.

Locating his zipper as you kiss him is hard, but not impossible, and soon you’re able to free his cock from its painful confines. Bucky gasps at the rush of cold air, a sound that turns into a deep moan when you wrap an eager hand around him. Maybe some other time, some other night when you’re not fueled purely by endorphins, caffeine, and several glasses of bottom-shelf alcohol, you’d do some foreplay, maybe some dirty talk.

Now, though, your mouth waters at the sign of his hard length, and before Bucky can even get a good grip on your hair you’re spitting on him before taking him as far as your throat permits. He moans deep and guttural, jaw going slack and head leaning against the wall. One of his hands feels cool on your head and it’s nearly sobering, how the freezing material feels against the fire dancing across your skin. You’d question the (seemingly) nonhuman appendage, but the progressive soaking of your underwear and his cursing brings your focus to a pinpoint.

Every single one of his “oh fuck”s and “oh baby that feels so good”s drive you to take him harder, faster, and all too soon Bucky’s getting the message and fucking into your throat. Spit falls from your jaw to between your knees, some slick reminder of how gross this is. That only pushes you, though, to wrap a hand around his base with the other massaging his balls.

“Fuck I’m gonna come,” he moans, eyes rolling to the back of his head as both hands wrap around him. “Gonna fucking come down your throat, fuck.”

Fuck yes he is, you think, shoving him back down your throat one last time before the grip on your scalp gets impossibly tight and his thrusts suddenly still and his lets out the deepest, most erotic noise you’ve ever heard in your entire fucking life. The salty taste of him rolls down your tongue and down your throat, his whole body tense as he shoots his load into your mouth.

The second he releases your hair you fall back against the sink, air you’re gulping tainted with the taste of Bucky’s cum. He seems stunned, a little out of it, but still offers to reciprocate. It’s then you realize that Patti LaBelle is playing, and if you’re remembering the song correctly, you’ve got thirty seconds to be backstage and ready to help your best friend get de-dragged.

“Fuck, I gotta go,” you hiss, splashing cold water on your face and trying to calm your ragged breaths. Just before you can open the bathroom door, though, Bucky stops you.

“Wait, just,” he huffs, digging in his pockets for something. Quickly he produces a phone, and he hands it you with the “new contact screen” on it. “Please, give me your number.”

It’s obvious he’s the stronger of both of you, so you slam your fingers on the cracked screen to string together your phone number. It seems the man’s satisfied, because he releases the ajar door from your grip and lets you flee backstage. Lucy comes off just in time for you to meet her, ready with make up wipes and chapstick. Instead of taking both from you, though, she brushes past you to grab at a bottle of water – a surefire sign she’s not done.

You begin to protest, knowing she’s too drunk to lip sync to choral music, let alone her traditional encore playlist. But she waves you off.

“I’m just going to meet some people at the bar take some pics,” Lucy downs the entire 32 ounces of water in record time, barely getting any lipstick on the mouth of the thing. “Don’t worry, just…I don’t know,” she rolls her eyes at her own inability to speak. “Go kill a Westboro Baptist Church member or something, alright? Just…” she hiccups and starts to lean to the right, but adjusts herself before you can do anything. You steady her with a hand on her shoulder, and she lowers her face to yours and juts her lower lip out to pout. “Just wait up for me, okay. I don’t think I can find my way home alone.”

Before you can respond she pushes past you and into the screaming crowd, her shouts and shrieks almost as loud. A quick scan of the dimly-lit bar reveals no Bucky, and without his number you’re stuck putting her reveals back together and unused the unused supplies.

At the end of the night you meet Lucy back where you left her – only this time in black leggings and a purple NARAL shirt shirt three-sizes too big. As she wipes away at the thick cosmetic mask with a dirty make up wipe, your eyes meet hers in the mirror.

“I saw you with some guy tonight,” a smirk paints her lips as heat paints your cheeks. “Did anything happen?”

You bite at your bottom lip, hoping she won’t press further. Luckily, she remains covert, just giving you a once over before speaking again.

“Are you gonna run off with him and abandon me to do all my drag shit by myself?” She asks. Lucy’s tone is playful, but you can tell there’s a hint of seriousness to it.

You shake your head, tucking a bit of hair behind your ear and tucking your hands into your jean pockets. “C’mon, you know I’d never do that. You’re my best friend. How could I put anyone before you?”

Lucy turns around and smiles, perfectly white teeth especially pearly surrounded by the smudged deep purple lipstick and thick, black eyeshadow, a misplaced lash, and what looks to be a twenty-dollar bill stuck behind her ear due to excess wig glue. “Good, because there’s no way I could do Boudoir Z without you.”

Silence settles over both of you as she wipes off the rest of her make up (and pulls out the cash stuck in her hair and to her neck). The only sounds are her throwing loose powders and eye shadow into her make up suitcase and, soon, your phone vibrating in your back pocket. On the screen flashes a text from an unknown number, Bucky you think, and then another right after.

wanna see you again

when are you free

You smile at the screen, giddy like a middle schooler being asked out by her crush. “Hey, Luce…” you wait until she’s facing you to continue. “When’s your next show?”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #lanis2ndmysteriouswritingchallenge #like idk what came over me but...#im not ashamed and refuse to be #lukis writes stuff #i finished this in less than an afternoon #like i wrote 2k so quick wtf

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violetsmoak · 5 years

Text

Appetence [11/?]

AO3 Link:https://archiveofourown.org/works/20251420/chapters/47997634

Blanket Disclaimer

Summary: Red Robin is investigating the disappearance of a friend and stumbles into a spot of supernatural trouble. He doesn’t expect to be saved by Jason Todd, miraculously alive five years after his death and now with the inexplicable ability to commune with the dead. Meanwhile, when Jason returned to Gotham he meant to maintain a low profile and not get involved with Bat business. That was before he found out how hot his Replacement is.

Rating: PG-13 (rating may change later)

JayTimBingo Prompts This Chapter: #haunting #paranormal investigator

First Chapter

Beta Reader: I’ll get back to you on that.

Author’s Note: I decided to upload this today instead of tomorrow as I have a final paper due Friday and if I'm gonna concentrate on finishing it and not writing fanfic, I need to put this up now :P Enjoy the BatFam feels.

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A day later and Jason is still stewing in anger—and, if he’s being honest—a bit of hurt. Even after reuniting, even after listening to what Jason had to say, and trying to get him to come home—Bruce still can’t be convinced to deal with the Joker.

Or at the very least stand aside and let Jason do it.

It’s like he’s trying to protect my non-existent virtue or some kind of innocence I never really had.

Does Bruce even actually remember him anymore? Or has he built up some false memory in his head that’s turned the boy Jason was into some clone of Dick?

The obvious, adult way of finding out would be to drive over to the manor and go for Round Two in confronting Bruce, but that’s a journey he’s not ready to take yet. Especially since the emotionally stunted man child that is the Dark Knight might take that as Jason coming to grovel for forgiveness, which just…no.

It’s decided. Jason will sit and sulk in his office and pretend Bruce and all of his Bat-drama doesn’t exist. He has work to do, anyhow.

The phone rings and Jason smirks.

“Like I said,” he tells himself smugly and picks it up, leaning back in his chair with his feet on the desk. “Beyond Investigations, Victor Shelley speaking.”

“First of all, you have a really warped sense of humor choosing that as your civilian identity,” a familiar voice tells him, and Jason’s stomach flips a little as he nearly slides off his chair.

“Well, if it isn’t my esteemed former stalker,” he drawls, then winces because it’s not exactly his best line. “You can’t tell me it’s not funny, in the gallows kind of way.”

“If you wanted gallows, I’m surprised you didn’t go with Vlad Stoker,” Tim Drake remarks.

“That would be cliché. And Stoker’s overrated. Also, he once demanded all the gay writers be imprisoned, which ain’t cool,” Jason replies with an easy enjoyment. “But I doubt you’re calling to talk early horror literature with me. Gotta say, it’s the first time I’ve ever waited more than two days for someone to call me when I give them my number.”

Shit. That was a little more flirting than he intended.

“That leads to second of all,” Tim says, either missing the innuendo or ignoring it completely. “Care to explain why, after you asked me not to say anything to B about you being here, you ratted me out to him?”

That’s…not what he was expecting. Jason sits up, suddenly serious. “Ratted you out? What are you talking about?”

“He came back home after that thing downtown with Freeze yesterday completely shaken because he ran into you, and apparently you let it slip that I knew you were back and didn’t tell anyone.”

There’s more than a little irritation in Tim’s voice there, and Jason’s heart picks up a bit in worry. He thinks back to the encounter the night before, trying to figure out when he would have outed Tim. He can’t think of anything.

Then he remembers his parting words.

The blood rushes to his face.

If Bruce figured out he was talking about Tim with such a throwaway comment, he worries what else he might have inferred.

Don’t think about it too closely. Worry about putting Tim in his crosshairs.

He groans. “Sorry, my bad.”

“Apparently I should have been the one asking for a week’s grace,” Tim goes on dryly.

“Honestly, I wasn’t thinking,” Jason tells him. “Talkin’ to B always gets my blood pressure up, and then my mouth just starts to run.”

“No kidding.”

“He didn’t give you too much trouble, did he?”

There’s a pause, and then, “No more than normal. A couple of years ago that sort of thing would have really messed with my head, but these days I can deal.”

“What happened a couple of years ago?”

Tim pauses again, and even though Jason can’t sense auras or ghosts through telephone lines, he’s pretty sure that the dark aura constantly surrounding the younger man is behind that.

“Let’s just say I learned that Brue can be myopic about certain things,” Tim says at last. “Either he’s entirely focused on what’s right in front of him, or some arbitrary future end game. He doesn’t really…absorb the things that happen between those two points.”

Jason blinks. “That’s a scary kind of accurate.”

“That’s what I do. I think and I know things.”

Jason can’t hold back a scoff.

“Did you…did you just misquote Game of Thrones?”

Tim lets out a somewhat startled laugh. “I guess I did. Totally unintentional, I promise. Although, you get points for catching it.”

“Points for what? Is there a prize?”

“Even if there was, I’d be keeping it. I’m still ticked off at you for telling on me to B.”

“And I still feel bad about that. I owe you a drink.”

No, no you don’t. No drinks, no nothing. Off-limits, remember?

“Still not old enough to drink, Jason,” Tim replies, voice sounding less irritated and weary and more…amused? Fond even?

Then he hangs up, leaving Jason staring at the receiver of his phone in puzzled frustration.

“This isn’t going to end well for me, is it?”

“No,” Sheila tells him from where she’s lingering across the room, “it’s not.”

Jason lets his head fall onto his desk.

With the ice now broken with Tim and Bruce (or at least as broken as it can get given the latter’s inability to process anything resembling emotions), Jason pretty knows his days of privacy are likely at an end.

He completely expects the requisite visitations of various Family members who will no doubt have been told he’s alive.

Both the ones I knew and the one I didn’t…

If he weren’t pretending indifference, he would have expected Dick to be the first to show up, all passion and anger. He doesn’t have many memories of his predecessor-slash-older-brother-figure where he wasn’t furious about something—almost always Bruce related. To Jason, he only seemed to have two settings: coddling and wanting to pick a fight.

Jason’s not sure which of those he wants to encounter just now.

Turns out his intuition about Dick being his first visit is completely off.

Instead, he wakes one night from a dead sleep by a sense of presence, both physical and spectral.

There’s a kid standing at the edge of his futon, swathed in Robin’s colors but with the aura of a predator lying in wait. He can’t be more than twelve, and there’s just something about the set of his shoulders and clench of his jaw that screams Bruce.

He’s also not alone.

Outside the open window that the kid obviously used to break in, a ghostly figure in a voluminous green robe looms, hissing imprecations at Jason’s wards from the decapitated head it holds in its hands.

Jason blinks, intrigue cutting through his sleep-dulled senses. Considering the kid is Talia’s, he obviously has some League of Assassins training. Given that, Jason would have expected there to be a lot more ghosts following the kid around. Either he hasn’t killed very many people beyond the one by the window, or the ones he has didn’t leave anything unfinished.

Either way, this brat’s dangerous.

“You know who I am?” Robin challenges although it’s more a statement of fact.

“Chip off the old block is what you are,” Jason grumbles, sitting up—slowly, in case the hard-looking kid thinks he’s about to try something. He’d rather not get into another Wayne beatdown so soon after his encounter with Bruce. “Did he actually teach you the menacing-people-in-the-dark thing, or is it genetic?”

“What is your purpose for returning to Gotham?” the boy demands, ignoring the question.

“Best chili dogs in the world,” Jason shoots back, reaching for the small table beside his fold-out bed and the carton of cigarettes there.

“Stow your flippant remarks, Todd, I will have my answer whether you give it voluntarily or after I’ve loosened a few of your teeth.”

“Big words for someone probably still losing their own baby teeth. What are you, six?”

“I won’t tolerate any attempts to shove your way back into Father’s life,” the boy insists. “We already have one failure lingering about where he shouldn’t be, no need for a second.” He pauses, tilts his head to one side, and his mouth pulls into a cold smirk. “Or rather, you were the first, weren’t you?”

Jason narrows his eyes. “You know there’s a headless guy in a green curtain following you around, right? I’d think really hard about what B considers a failure before throwing that word at other people.”

The kid’s mouth goes white around the edges—touchy subject, apparently—and moves into a crouch like he’s about to dive across the room. He pauses though, fingers touching his hear, and then scowls.

“That Daddy calling you out for missing curfew?” Jason prods.

“This isn’t over!” the kid snaps, and then like he’s making a point, whips a Batarang at Jason’s face.

By the time Jason’s reached up to catch it, the brat and his ghost have vanished.

“Well, that was fun,” Jason mutters, bemused and confident he won’t be getting back to sleep any time soon.

He spends the rest of the night and early morning first checking emails and then researching. John sent him a bunch of information on kodoku, the technique Jason couldn’t remember in conjunction with the thing attracting negative energy to Tim.

It’s not exactly what he was thinking of, but even if it doesn’t help him figure out that conundrum, it might offer an inkling or two of how to deal with the ever-present Joker problem.

Need to read up on it more before I can know for sure.

His stomach growls and he decides to table it for now. There’s a 24-hour breakfast place down the street actually does bangers and mash, which he’s been craving since leaving London.

Instead, there’s a knock at the door.

Guess I’m putting off breakfast for a bit longer. Oh well. Potential client.

Jason forces himself to put on a normal, welcoming face and goes to open the door.

What he doesn’t expect to find is a certain English butler standing in the shitty hallway just outside his office, with a bulky canvas bag in his arms and a disapproving look on his face that only just falters as their eyes meet.

It’s as if the air has been punched out of Jason’s lungs because if there’s anyone he has missed than anyone else since he’s been away, it’s Alfred.

“Master Jason,” the older man says, somehow managing to keep his voice from wavering, and god, he sounds the same. “I am sure in instilled at least a rudimentary etiquette into you as a boy. Therefore, you can imagine my disappointment upon learning you have been in Gotham for several weeks now and did not come to call at the manor.”

Jason can’t hold back the slightly hysterical chuckle at that, because trust Alfred to act like he’s been on some kind of extended vacation, instead of six feet under and insane. Yet, it doesn’t feel as dismissive or repressing as it would from Bruce.

“You know me, Alf,” he says through a suddenly dry mouth. “That stuff never took.”

“So it would seem.”

They exchange looks, both sizing up the other and then Alfred raises an eyebrow. Jason shakes his head like a sleepwalker and indicates the older man should come in.

Alfred moves smoothly across the threshold of the tiny office, frowning at the disarray (and mostly at the futon).

“Given the fact you’ve only recently, er, moved in, I thought it best to arrive with provisions.”

He sets the paper bag down on Jason’s desk and removes a box containing a hot plate, a kettle and what appears to be a package of tea. Though his back is turned, there’s a tension in his shoulders and a minor tremor that, when Jason cranes his head, he realizes are from shaking hands.

When Alfred turns around, Jason can’t hold back from reaching over and enveloping him in a hug.

It’s so different from the awkward thing with Bruce, and even though Alfred has never been the hugging type, he holds Jason just as tightly.

They stay like that for several moments, before Alfred speaks again, his voice tense like he’s speaking around a lump in his throat. “You have certainly grown into your various limbs, my boy.”

“Yeah…yeah, I guess I did…”

Jason tells Alfred everything.

He doesn’t skip any of the details the way he did with Tim and, to an extent, with Bruce. Because the fact is, he doesn’t know Tim, not really, and he knows Bruce too well. Alfred won’t look at him with pity or as something damaged; there’s pain in the way he watches Jason, but also an overwhelming and unquestionable relief.

Alfred isn’t one to cry, but his eyes gleam wetly as Jason relates how he woke in his coffin and the trial of digging himself out.

“I didn’t remember it for a while,” he admits. “Mostly it’s what comes back in nightmares. I guess it’s so clear because it’s the only thing that happened to me for another year. I was in a coma for about as long.”

“And no one knew who you were,” Alfred murmurs dully. “Everyone thought you were already dead.”

“…yeah.”

“My dear boy…if we had known…”

“Can’t change the past, Alf,” Jason shrugs, trying to play it off. “And even if you had known, I wasn’t me for a long time. Wouldn’t have wanted you to go through that.”

“And yet…somehow, you rallied,” Alfred says, determined. “You recovered.”

“I guess you could say that,” Jason says with a bitter twist of the mouth. “Not sure people would call seeing ghosts ‘recovered’.” He exhales. “I do see ‘em, Alf—all the time. I didn’t know what it was I the beginning, and…that made things harder. I was so out of it; I couldn’t tell when I was talking to someone alive or someone dead. Everyone at the hospitals thought I was insane. Bet you can guess what happened next.”

“Master Timothy…was reluctant to tell me when I asked,” the old man admits. “I’m astounded anyone in the system would have thought Arkham of all places was the appropriate place for you.” He clenches his fists together, no doubt imagining using them on whoever made that particular decision. “But Mr. Constantine, he rescued you?”

“Yeah,” Jason leans back, crossing his arms. “If he hadn’t shown up, I’d still be rotting away there. It was completely by chance, too. An old mate of his called in a favor with him, wanted to prove his sister was possessed and not bat-shit crazy.” Alfred shoots him a reprimanding look and Jason shrugs. “Sorry. Anyway, turns out she was crazy. John was keen to get out of there as soon as possible and happened to pass my room on the way out—he heard me talking to one of my many spectral roommates. He could sense the energy and when he went to look, he could see ‘em too.”

“And thus discovered that your supposed insanity was not quite so clear-cut,” Alfred determines, looking a mite triumphant.

“Not exactly. I’d been driven almost beyond the point of no return by then. If I’d been there much longer, it’d have been too late. But John could tell I was a medium. He decided I wasn’t supposed to be there and busted me out—then decided it’d be dangerous to let me wander around on my own like that. Been with him ever since. Three years of trying to heal what that asshat clown did to my brain and train myself not to lose it when I get rushed by a stampede of dead people.”

“Then I can only be grateful to him,” Alfred says. “Should you speak to Mr. Constantine in the near future, do tell him he will always have a place to stay at the manor should he need it.”

Jason laughs. “I don’t see him coming out this way any time soon. And I doubt B would be open to that arrangement.”

“You let me worry about Master Bruce. As for you—is there any point in reminding you that you also have a place to stay should you tire of this…urban setting?”

“This is my home, Alf,” Jason replies, at least halfway apologetic. “The manor might have...become that if I’d been there longer. Maybe.” He spares a moment’s thought for the little boy that wanted nothing more than to become Batman when he grew up. “But not now. I’m too—I’ve got my own mission now.”

Alfred nods, mouth turned downward. Jason tries to pretend he doesn’t notice the sad gleam in his eye.

“In the hope that your mission is not so all-consuming as Master Bruce’s, I shall still keep a guestroom at the ready. I…suspect returning to your old room would harm more than heal.”

And this is why Jason always loved Alfred. He gets it. Even when he’s hoping for the impossible.

“Guess I can live with that,” Jason says.

“I do expect you to call for dinner at some point in the future. Perhaps not until you’re more settled. But surely you can sacrifice an hour or two for a pot roast dinner.”

Jason’s mouth immediately waters.

“Oh, that’s playing dirty, old man,” he tells him seriously.

“Having lived in Gotham this long, it’s hardly a surprise that I, too, can affect nefariousness when the occasion calls for it.” There’s a buzzing sound and Alfred digs into his pocket for his mobile phone and then heaves a sigh in a very familiar way. “Master Damian’s school. I’m afraid I must attend to this.”

“Ten o’clock and he’s already in trouble,” Jason whistles. “Beating my old record, huh?”

“You have no idea,” Alfred agrees seriously. He stands then, looks like he wants to hug Jason again but manages to keep control of himself this time. “Seeing you again is a gift, Master Jason. I hope you will allow me to impose on your hospitality again in the future?”

“You’re welcome here any time,” Jason says, warm and sincere. “I’m…it’s really good to see you again, Alf.”

The old man nods then continues to gaze at Jason a few beats longer, as if to make sure he really is seeing him, and then heads for the door. Jason sees him out, watches him until he vanishes around the corner, and then sags heavily against the doorpost to his office.

A bone-deep exhaustion that has nothing to do with sleep deprivation washes over him.

“'Stay under the radar’, I said,” he mutters to himself. “'Don’t let the Family know I’m here'. That was the plan. There was a reason for the plan…”

A reason that was supposed to guard against an estranged father and attractive replacement and loving butler.

(Well, to be fair, he didn’t know that ‘attractive replacement’ was on his list, but it clearly should have been.)

At least I got the really hard reunions out of the way. Except for Barbie, but I doubt she’d drag herself up a flight of stairs just to see me. Might be able to avoid that one a bit longer…

Honestly, he's kind of afraid of having to look Barbara Gordon in the eyes. There's so much pain between them, all caused by the same evil.

As it turns out, Jason’s next visitor is somehow more overwhelming. Or at least starts out that way.

He’s shuffling through the hallway to his door with a bag of take-out that evening, and suddenly the air becomes cold and suffocating. Jason winces, tries to breathe slow and measured against the cold.

“Whoever you are, can you just…stay where you are for a minute?” he grunts, fumbling with his keys to jimmy the door open. Silence is the only response, but he takes that as acquiescence.

Well, that’s rare. A creepy stalker that actually listens.

He practically falls into the office, the constricted sensation in his lungs vanishing as soon as he crosses the threshold.

Wards are still working. Good.

“Okay, you can come in now,” he says, putting his groceries on his desk and turning around.

He almost does a double-take.

The person that glides into his office is a small Asian girl, maybe an inch or two shorter than Tim, and deceptively dainty looking. Deceptive, because Jason can see the ghosts crowding the hallway behind her, clawing at the doorway and keening and cursing at her in a myriad of languages.

“How in the hell does someone that looks like you have that big a body count?” he asks, halfway between impressed and horrified.

The girl’s face remains blank, but her eyes skitter away, as if in shame. Jason immediately feels like a tool.

“Sorry,” he mumbles. “Didn’t mean it that way. It’s just…you’re just a kid.”

“Older than you,” she tells him in clear but accented English. She cocks her head to one side, studying him in a way that is almost as invasive as any of the mind-readers he met while working for John. And then she smiles and says, “Little brother.”

Whatever he expected, that wasn’t it. Jason blinks.

“…What.”

She points to herself. “Cassandra. Wayne.”

“Wayne,” he repeats, and then makes the connection and snorts. “Of course. Most people collect stamps. B collects orphans.” He wanders over to his desk and sits down heavily. “What’d he bring you in for? Me, it was boosting tires off the Batmobile.”

Cassandra Wayne’s eyes widen in surprise and then sparkle with amusement and delight.

“So, what brings you here? Come to stare at the clan screw-up?”

“Curious,” she tells him.

“About?”

“They said you see…differently,” she says.

“That’s one way to put it.”

“It’s…comforting,” she says, hesitating on the word like she’s not sure it’s the right one.

“Why’s that?”

“I see different too.”

Jason eyes her, then the myriad ghosts lingering beyond the words. He nods, serious. “I bet you do.”

She smiles at him.

He kind of can’t help be charmed by her, despite the vicious insults being hurled at her by her ghostly entourage.

“Tell you what,” he says. “Close that door so I can hear myself think, and you can stay for supper. I’ve got too much for just me.” He nods at the bags which contain what was supposed to be both tonight’s meal and tomorrow’s lunch. “Not sure if you eat souvlaki, but—”

“I eat anything,” she replies and sits in one of the chairs by his desk.

“Same here,” Jason agrees, handing her one of the Styrofoam containers. “Just promise me you won’t eat it with a fork and knife.”

She makes a face. “I am not Bruce.”

“Thank the gods for small miracles…”

To Be Continued

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phantasticworks · 5 years

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Don’t Ask Me How I’ve Been (Fake Happy)

Based on the short film "Papercut" by Omad Productions (Somewhat, I got carried away)

read on ao3

Words: 13.7k

Description: Dan Howell is an up and coming actor in a closeted relationship with a man who isn't ready to admit his sexuality. Phil is their Uber driver for a very important awards show. Things don't go exactly to plan, but maybe that's a good thing?

Warnings: swearing, scenes with emotional abuse (not dnp), some angst, horrible smut scene there at the end that I will apologize for now (pls skip if it makes you uncomfy to read)

“Yeah, we’re on our way. No, I’ve just picked Dan up. He’s-“ A heavy pause fills the air around them, and the brunette nearly rolls his eyes. It’s no use, really, because in the darkness of this car, his backseat partner wouldn’t be able to tell anyway. “He’s here.”

If they weren’t currently accompanied by a friendly-looking Uber driver, Dan might’ve made a bitchy remark. Of course, that would’ve resulted in some sort of argument or lecture and wouldn’t actually be worth it, but he still just barely bites his tongue to keep the words from spilling out.

“Right. Yeah, we’ll see you in, eh, about twenty minutes, I’d say. Right. Yeah. Okay, see you.” There’s an audible click signaling the end of the call, and Dan shifts to cast his gaze on his not-boyfriend-but-mate-that-he-sleeps-with-and-practically-shares-a-flat-with.

“Who’s the booty call?” He asks with a smirk, his voice not quiet enough not to be noticed by their driver.

Cool grey-blue eyes meet his, an unimpressed frown etched onto the man’s face. “That’s not funny, Daniel.” It’s said with an overwhelming amount of disapproval, and Dan can feel it pressing down on him.

With a sigh, he tosses his head back against the headrest and drops his hand onto the seat between them, a small part of him hoping that they might hold hands on the way to the ceremony. He knows it’s a foolish dream, but he can’t help but hold onto some sort of hope.

“Sorry, am I meant to pretend I don’t know that we’re picking up someone to be your “date” for the evening?” Dan mutters, absently tapping his fingers against the leather. It was a surprisingly nice car for an Uber, and the driver had been pleasant enough, quiet and friendly. Even teetering on the edge of what might be a big break in their professional careers, they still couldn’t afford an exuberant ride for the awards show tonight. Not that Dan cared about such materialistic things, anyway.

A huff sounds from beside him, but Dan doesn’t grant him with so much as a glance. “I don’t know why you have to be a prick, Daniel. I really don’t. I’ve already told you, things will be different now.” The words are muttered quickly and quietly, and Dan can tell this is likely some sort of signal for him to keep his mouth shut.

He ignores it in favor of laughing, loudly.

“Right. Different. How different are we talking, Ben? Am I going to start topping?” He taunts, bitterness lacing his words.

He’s not totally surprised when the hit comes, but that doesn’t make it hurt less. He winces, bringing a hand up to rub at his now-sore arm. “Shut up! Shut the fuck up!” Ben hisses, his eyes wide and panicked.

They both glance to their driver, and Dan catches the blue eyes in the reviewer mirror, a look of concern etched onto the man’s face as he studies Dan.

“Everything alright back there?” He asks, cautiously.

Dan shifts and tosses an arm over Ben’s shoulders and sends the driver a brilliant smile. “Oh yeah, everything’s just fine. Just a tiff, you know how it is.”

The driver glances back to the road, but sends a disbelieving look back towards the mirror before nodding.

Ben waits until the driver has refocused on the road before elbowing Dan sharply in the ribs. “Get the fuck off me.” He doesn’t even look at Dan after he’s retracted his arm, staring out the window with what Dan can only assume is a glare, as if the rain itself has offended him. It wouldn’t be a surprise, honestly. These days it really didn’t take much.

“Ouch,” Dan says, a bit belatedly. He rubs pointedly at his ribs where he’d been struck, wondering if the bruise would blossom the same as the others have.

“Oh, come off it. I didn’t hurt you.” The words are wrapped in ice, detached.

Dan stays quiet then, unwilling to open that particular can of worms with the audience they had. After a few kilometers go by in a silence that feels far heavier than it should on a night like tonight, Dan glances over at Ben, a thought bouncing around his head, struggling to escape. “Who was she?” He asks softly, dropping his gaze to stare at his hands, which he’s laced on his lap.

There’s a pause, and Dan doesn’t think that Ben will grant him with any response at all, but eventually an exasperated sigh falls from his lips. “Do you really want to know?” He asks, his tone softer than it had been so far. It was almost apologetic. Almost.

After a moment of consideration, Dan shrugs. “Can’t make that much of a difference, can it?”

Ben finally shifts just enough to look at Dan properly, but the brunette refuses to lift his gaze.

“It was Sophia,” he whispers, almost as if he’d rather it stayed a secret. As if he’d rather not hurt Dan, as if he’d rather lie and pretend that he hadn’t been planning this all along.

“Huh.” Dan clicks his tongue, processing this.

Sophia was a nice enough girl, he supposed. She certainly hadn’t done anything directly to him to warrant the kind of comment he was about to make.

“I guess you’ll have two holes to fuck now. Oh, three, if she likes to suck dick, I suppose. Probably won’t be nearly as practiced as me, remember last night when I-“ before he can even finish his remark, a hand is swiftly coming up to cover his mouth, holding it shut with more force than was necessary.

Dan tells his body not to panic, even when he feels Ben’s hand shift just enough to press right under his nostrils, cutting off any and all air supply. It was a scare tactic, and one he’d dealt with a hundred times before. He clenches his fist and forces himself to breathe slowly, keeping himself from running out of oxygen before Ben drops the little act.

“If you don’t keep your fucking mouth shut, I’ll fucking find a way to shut it.” Cold blue eyes stare into Dan’s, the anger bubbling up there making Dan almost nauseous.

Dan waits, counting to himself in his head. 8... 11... 15... 23... and finally, Ben’s hand shoves against his mouth one last time before pulling away altogether, an irritated huff falling from his lips.

After allowing himself a moment to catch his breath, Dan straightens out his suit coat and shoots their driver a cautious look, hoping that he hadn’t seen what had just occurred. He’s relieved to find the driver not looking at them through the rear view mirror, but his eyes drift to his hands, wrapped tightly around the steering wheel, the bones in his hands sticking out prominently against his alabaster skin.

Shit.

A nervousness floods his stomach, and he can’t help but feel almost embarrassed; by his own actions or Ben’s, he isn’t sure. Either way, he glances over at Ben, hoping he didn’t realize that their driver had probably caught on. If he did, he’d likely demand he pull over and call someone else; not out of any concern that the driver might comment on the rather physical aspect of their relationship, but likely out of fear that the driver might recognize them and sell the story of a domestic dispute in the backseat of his car.

Luckily, Ben appears to be oblivious, so Dan forces himself to relax. Suddenly feeling awkward with silence and not wanting another fight with Ben, Dan turns to their driver.

“Excuse me, what did you say your name was, sir? It’s completely slipped my mind since we got in.” He smiles at the driver when he glances into his rearview mirror to look at Dan, surprise on his features.

“Phil,” He says easily, a small smile gracing his lips. He glances back over his shoulder at Dan this time. “And you are?”

Dan opens his mouth to speak, but before he can even get a word out, Ben shifts over and narrows his eyes at Dan, his gaze flicking to the driver. “He’s Daniel, and I’m Benjamin.” He shoots Dan a warning look, as if that’s quite enough idle chit-chat, but Dan pretends he doesn’t notice.

“Dan, actually. But you can call me whatever you prefer.” He doesn’t know why it comes out in a flirting sort of way, but before he has anytime to be mildly embarrassed, the driver, well- Phil, smirks.

“Will I be calling you?” He asks smoothly.

Dan can’t help but laugh at the subtle response to his own unintentional flirting, and he flashes Phil his most charming smile, dimples and all. “I’m sure that could be arranged.”

Phil glances back at him in the mirror, and Dan decides to be so bold as to wink, forgetting the grumpy man who’s currently pouting beside him.

That is until said grumpy man whips his head around to glare at Dan. “Stop it,” he hisses, his jaw clenching.

Dan quirks an unbothered eyebrow at him. “Now why the hell should I do a thing like that?”

Without breaking eye contact, Ben tilts his head so his voice carries over the chair in front of him. “Sorry, mate, but we’re professionals in our field. We don’t date chauffeurs.” There’s a glint of challenge in his eyes, as if daring Dan to contradict him.

Flushing from the absurdly selfish and egotistical part of Ben’s statement, Dan shifts to break the eye contact. Looking back to Phil, he gives him a reassuring shake of his head. “That’s bullshit, mate. This one over here thinks that being nominated for an award makes you hot shit, but he’s wrong.”

He can practically feel Ben seething next to him, but he knows that he’s off the hook this time, because not only do they have an audience, but they have an engaged one, and Dan’s decided he’d like to keep it that way.

Phil laughs at his reassurance, shrugging. “I dunno, maybe I could be more easily wooed by someone with an award,” he sends a cheeky smirk to Dan via the reflection in the mirror, and Dan’s grin widens. Ben huffs and pouts next to him, but he ignores it.

“In that case, I actually hope I win this thing,” Dan flirts back. With a start, it occurs to him it’s the first time he’s actually cared if he wins or not.

“So what kind of award are you nominated for?” Phil asks curiously, his hand coming up to drag through his quiff.

It occurs to Dan then that this man seems to have no idea of who they are and what they do for a living. It’s refreshing, and in a way he can’t describe... liberating. To openly converse with someone who has virtually no clue who you are feels better than he could’ve imagined.

It’s not like he was particularly famous- he’d been in four films now, with only one major role between them, and had played various side characters on a handful of tv shows. Really not all that impressive, but it seemed that lately he was only surrounded by people who knew who he was. It was a nice change to finally be among someone who doesn’t, and still, curiously, seems interested in talking to him.

“We’ve both been nominated for Best Supporting Male Lead,” Ben contributes from his pouting position to Dan’s right.

Dan’s teeth grind together, annoyance coursing through his veins as he shoots the blonde a glare. It wasn’t fair for him to sit here treating Dan like shit, and yet forcing himself into their conversation like some sort of interpreter. Dan didn’t need an interpreter, despite what their management thought. Sure he had a tendency to be a little brash and downright rude sometimes, but generally that was only when he was dealing with pricks. Now wasn’t one of those times though, so Ben could honestly fuck off.

“Oh. So you’re both, like, proper actors?” Phil asks, his eyebrows shooting up on his forehead.

Dan nods, although a prickle of something uncomfortable is starting to form in his chest. He really didn’t want their conversation to go down that route, but now that they’d let it out in the open, he figured that’s the only way it could go. Rather than continue on and have the conversation dominated by his stupid career, Dan goes quiet, turning to look out the window.

“That’s interesting,” Phil comments from the driver’s seat. Dan only offers a hum in response, and then the car falls silent once again.

The silence gives Dan the time and space to revisit his and Ben’s short conversation about Sophia from earlier. The satisfaction of hearing him admit that it was exactly who Dan had thought didn’t lessen the pain he felt now that he realized what that meant. For one thing, it meant that he hadn’t had the exclusivity he’d been promised. Well- not that he’d really expected that to last anyway; Ben was fickle with his promises.

And secondly, it meant that tonight, when they were standing on the red carpet posing for photos, there’d be a hundred photographers screaming for Ben and Sophia to kiss or get closer or anything of the sort, without any knowledge of the heartbroken man just a few feet away, always in the shadow of Ben’s latest conquest.

Except this time, it would be real.

After the show, when Dan was headed back to his flat alone, Ben would be on his way to his own, seldom-used flat, with Sophia. Or maybe he’d just go to hers, instead. Dan’s stomach churns uncomfortably at the thought of what they’d spend the night doing, and a dull pain throbs in his heart remembering that only the night before, they’d been sharing that very same thing.

“How long?” He asks into the dark, a question that could really be answered by either member of his company, although the answer he wanted would likely not be the one he received.

“About five more minutes, if traffic allows,” Phil responds cheerfully.

Dan glances over at Ben, waiting to see if he’d catch the undertone in his voice and realize that’s not what he’d meant. The blonde is staring out the window, his arm propped up on the side and his chin resting on his fist. He looked like a model like that, and Dan hates him for looking so subtly beautiful in such a normal setting.

“Ben,” He says softly, shifting slightly closer.

“What?” Ben asks, sounding tired.

Dan swallows hard, forcing the words out before he can lose his nerve. “How long have you been seeing her?”

It feels like a silence settles over the car, thick and stifling. Dan almost fears breathing, as if even the most subtle noise will burst this bubble of tranquility, this moment of calm before the inevitable storm. He forces himself not to panic before Ben has even spoken, but when those cold blue eyes flick over to meet his gaze, he already knows the answer.

“A while.”

A deep breath. Then, “I asked, how long? I need a number.”

Ben sighs deeply, rolling his eyes. “You’re being foolish, Daniel. Why does it matter? You and I aren’t-“ he spares a glance at the driver and lowers his voice. “You and I were never dating. I don’t see what the big deal is.”

Dan can feel his breathing quicken, but it feels like the faster it gets the harder it is to feel the oxygen expanding in his lungs. He knows he’s about to have a panic attack, and his fists clench tightly, his fingernails digging into his palms. “That’s not fair.” He shakes his head adamantly. “You can’t just erase the past two years of our life, Ben.” His voice sounds as panicked as he feels, and he’s having a hard time controlling the volume.

Ben glances towards the driver, a nervous look in his eyes. “I can try,” He says lowly, his gaze unwavering when he faces Dan.

“Why?” He breathes. He can feel his throat fluttering and he knows he’s close to tears. He’s too emotionally charged about this to control the way his body is functioning, and he hates it. “Why bother with any of this? We could- We can tell people, Ben. No one... no one would care.” He speaks softly, his gaze dropping to his hands so he doesn’t have to say the words directly to Ben’s face.

Ben lets out a harsh, humorless laugh, and Dan regrets ever saying it. “You’re pathetic, you know that?” He taunts. The words make Dan flinch.

“I’m not,” He whispers, finally allowing the tears to fall. He hopes with every fiber of his being that Phil isn’t listening, isn’t noticing the state he’s in right now.

“You are,” Ben confirms. “You’re still chasing after this stupid fucking fantasy, after all this time. I’m straight now, Dan. You’ve gotta just give up this stupid faggot shit. It’s sad, honestly.”

Dan’s head whips up at this, his eyes narrowing as he meets Ben’s unbothered gaze. “Really? This faggot shit? You do realize that your dick was literally in my ass last night, right? It takes one to fucking know one, mate.”

Ben clenches his jaw tightly, his face comforting into a glare. “Not another fucking word about that, got it? I’m not a fag, so you can just keep that shit to yourself.”

Dan stares, disbelievingly, at the man beside him. “Are you... are you even fucking listening to yourself? To me?”

“I’m trying my best not to, your whiny fucking voice is really grating my nerves,” Ben retorts, his gaze returning to the window.

They were currently driving through the neighborhood where Sophia lives, and Dan knew he only had a few more minutes left to clear his head before the evening really begun. He sorts through all the shit swirling in his mind, all the arguments he wants to make, and he settles on the one that feels the most pressing for now.

“We should go in separate cars,” he mutters, glaring out his own window.

“Pardon?” Ben says, his voice holding an air of offense.

Dan rolls his eyes before speaking again, raising his voice. “I think we should go in separate cars. You and Sophia should go in one separately from me.”

Ben seems to take a moment to consider this before speaking again. “Is this your way of pouting? It’s immature, if it is.”

With a huff, Dan turns to face him. “No, you twat. This is my way of being smart. People already think we’re together-“

“Because of your fucking comments,” Ben reminds him.

Dan talks over this. “-So if we show up in the same car, it’s going to look weird, even if Sophia is with us.”

After a prolonged moment of silence, Ben lets out a quiet hum. “Okay. Sure. In that case, I’ll call a different car, you can just take this one.”

If Dan had it in him to care, he’d be annoyed, because he knew the fare would be higher for him, considering a car going from Sophia’s to the awards show would have a shorter distance to travel. Instead, he just nods. His mind is already piecing together a plan for tonight that involves skipping the ceremony altogether, but Ben doesn’t need to know that.

“Alright, here we are, then. Should I wait?” Phil is probably only pretending he hadn’t overheard their change in plans, and Dan appreciates the subtle attempt at privacy.

“No need. My date and I will have another car come fetch us.” Ben moves to open the door, and then glances back at Dan. “Don’t fuck around and be late, okay? And when you get there, go see Annette for a briefing about who we need to speak to and where we’ll be sitting.”

Dan nods obediently, acting as if he plans to do just that. “Sure.” Ben studies him for a moment, rolling his eyes as he moves to step out. Dan watches him go, and just as he steps out, a thought occurs to him. “Ben?”

The blonde leans down to make eye contact with him. “What now?” He groans, clearly annoyed that Dan’s bothering him yet again. Dan hopes this is the last time.

“I want my key back.”

Ben has a look of confusion on his face before the meaning of his words seems to dawn on him. “I still have things at your flat,” he reminds him cautiously.

Dan shrugs. “I’ll drop them off at the office.” He holds his hand out patiently, waiting for the key to be given back. “Sometime today would be nice,” he drawls.

Ben’s gaze flickers to the driver, who seems to be zoned out, waiting patiently for Ben to leave already. “Fine,” he mutters, digging into his pocket and pulling out the silver key that belongs to Dan. He tosses it into the car, disregarding the hand that Dan had held out for it. “There.”

“Thanks.” Dan plucks the key from where it has fallen on the seat and twirls it around in his hand for a moment before shoving it into his pocket. “Might wanna hurry along, now. Don’t want to be late for our first big awards show, now,” Dan says mockingly.

The blonde barely gives him a reaction, just rolls his eyes and slams the door shut, leaving Dan alone in the Uber.

Dan sighs deeply, leaning his head back against the seat and allowing his eyes to close. The returned key sets heavy in his pocket, and for some reason he feels like he’s coming to the end of something. He’s not sure that it’s a feeling he’s entirely opposed to, but it’s one he hasn’t felt in so long that it’s practically foreign.

His swarming thoughts are interrupted by a throat clearing. “Alright?” Phil asks softly, his eyes holding a warmth to them.

Dan smiles at him and nods. “Yeah, I’m fine. Thank you for asking.”

Phil bites his lip and nods slowly. “I’m sorry for coming across so... bold, earlier,” he apologizes, his cheeks flushing slightly with the admittance. “I kind of, well... I kind of thought maybe you needed someone to be a buffer, but I do apologize for seeming so forward and pushy.”

The surprise on Dan’s face probably doesn’t go unnoticed, and it takes him a minute to gather his thoughts enough to properly respond. “Oh, um, it’s fine, really. I... yeah, I probably needed that, so... thanks.”

Phil nods, and slowly pulls away from the curb, moving down the road at a leisurely pace. “I assume we’re off to the O2?” He asks politely.

Dan raises an eyebrow, feeling a little more than confused. “I don’t believe we actually got around to telling you where the awards show was,” he says cautiously, trying his best not to sound rude.

Mischievous blue eyes meet his in the rearview mirror. “C’mon, mate. Did you really think I didn’t recognize you when you got in my car?”

A brief feeling of unbridled panic rips through Dan’s chest, a result of his countless media training sessions that taught him to keep his private life completely separate, especially his sexuality. He stomps that feeling down, hard. There was nothing to be ashamed of, and he’d spent years learning to be proud of himself for who he was. He wasn’t about to let that be taken away from him all because a nice Uber driver had seen an insight to his domestic life.

“Well, I guess I’d hoped you didn’t,” Dan finally says. He sighs and then glances out the window. “But, to answer your question... I think it’s back to my flat for me.”

There’s a moment of silence before Phil speaks again, timidly. “Are you sure, Dan?”

Hearing his name fall from this stranger’s lips twists something in Dan’s gut, and he isn’t sure if it’s the newness or the comfort of knowing that this stranger had seen a part of his life he hadn’t meant to share, and still seemed to have no problem speaking to him.

“Yeah, I’m sure. I think I’ve had enough excitement for one night.”

His PR agent would be absolutely pissed, and he knew he’d have a hundred missed calls from his manager by the morning, but he really didn’t care. He’d had a rather shit evening so far, and he really just wanted to go home. Part of him almost wished he could go on Grindr and let out some of the pent up emotion, but the more intelligent part of his brain reminds him that it probably wouldn’t be a great idea.

“Are you sure about that?” Comes the quiet response of his driver.

It takes Dan a second to rememberer his earlier words, and when he does, a flush crawls up his cheeks. He wasn’t positive it was flirting, but part of him, the lonely, horny, just-got-my-heart-broken part, was absolutely going to take it that way.

“I suppose that would depend on who’s asking,” he says slyly, sending Phil a smirk in the mirror.

The bright blue eyes twinkle with excitement, and Dan can’t help but find it endearing. “How about your neighborhood friendly Uber driver?” Phil jokes. “What if he asked?”

Dan gums as if he’s considering it. He’s undeniably interested now that the option is there, and to say he wasn’t would be a lie. He realizes then that they’ve turned around at some point, headed back the way they came. “I reckon if he was fit I could be swayed a certain way.”

“Yeah?” Phil responds with a laugh, his tongue poking out between his teeth in a way that’s just too endearing.

“Yeah,” Dan agrees, smiling. “Come back to mine?” He asks after a moment of quiet contemplation. If he was rejected it really wouldn’t be the worst part of his day, and if he wasn’t- then, hey, at least he’d get laid, and by someone attractive, no less.

Phil smiles back at him through the mirror. “Well, if you insist.”

The rest of the ride goes by quickly and considering Phil had just made the same trip from Dan’s flat, he has very little problem making the trip in the reverse order. Having sat in the backseat stressing for the past hour or so, Dan finds himself absolutely vibrating with nerves by the time they pull up to his building. His palms are sweating with the nerves he feels, and he can’t tell if he’s just excited or if he’s just genuinely nervous. It had been a very long time since he’d slept with someone that wasn’t Ben; well over a year, probably closer to two. He barely knew Phil, and he felt what he was doing was stupidly reckless, but that didn’t stop him from grinning when Phil killed the engine and looked back at him.

“Here we are,” He says slowly, his eyes studying Dan’s face in the darkness of the car. A single lamppost close to the doors of his building allows a little light to flood into the car, and it’s just enough for Dan to see the nervousness he feels reflected in Phil’s eyes.

“Yep,” Dan says quietly. He nods to the building. “You coming?”

Phil tilts his head and studies Dan for a moment, and his gaze makes Dan squirm nervously. “Lead the way,” he says with a smile.

Dan hides his grin as he steps out of the car, shivering slightly against the chill of the wind. He digs his keys out of his pocket as he steps around the car, waiting for Phil to do the same.

Dan stares unabashedly as Phil climbs out and shuts the door behind him. He’s tall, probably as tall as Dan, and without the barrier of the car seats between them, Dan has a better look at what he’s wearing. Black jeans cling to long legs, and under a stone washed denim jacket, he’s got a black T-shirt. Dan doesn’t even bother pretending he isn’t staring, and from the smirk he catches on Phil’s lips when he meets his gaze, the man isn’t even bothered by it. He looks good, and he obviously knows it.

“Uh, this way,” Dan says dumbly, cringing inwardly as he waves Phil over to follow him. Phil does so dutifully, his hands going into his pockets as he trails after him.

After fumbling with his keys for a moment, Dan finally manages to get the door unlocked and he shoves it open without ceremony. He hesitates, wondering if maybe he should let Phil in first, but that seemed weird; Phil didn’t know the layout of his apartment, he’d just be left to stand awkwardly in the foyer.

This in mind, Dan leads the way inside. “Just close the door behind you,” he calls over his shoulder.

“Want me to lock it?” Phil asks.

Dan shrugs out of his jacket and tosses it onto the rack near the door, considering. “I mean, if you’re sure I’m not going to peel your skin off and wear it like a coat, then yes. But if going into a random stranger’s house isn’t something you do often, you can leave it unlocked.”

Phil quirks an eyebrow at this, and Dan nearly swears. He really hadn’t meant to be so weird, it just sort of happened. Ben always said he didn’t have a filter, and well, maybe he was right about that.

Instead of being disturbed, though, Phil only smirks before flicking the switch and locking the door. Dan swallows hard, meeting the other man’s gaze across the few feet that separated them. He hadn’t even considered how he’d start this- it wasn’t everyday he brought someone home to screw. He hadn’t the faintest idea about how to proceed from here.

“Erm.... I don’t... I mean, obviously, Ben- well I mean, maybe not obviously, but, I don’t-“ he’s rambling, twisting his hands together awkwardly as he struggles to explain that he’s really not the type to do this sort of thing.

“Relax, Dan.” Phil’s voice is soothing, with no judgement in it. “Tea?” He asks, gesturing for Dan to lead them out of the foyer.

Nodding quickly, Dan turns and makes his way into the kitchen, the sound of Phil’s footsteps trailing behind him.

“Um, I’m more of an herbal tea person... is peppermint okay?” He shifts awkwardly in his kitchen, feeling ridiculous. He was usually so well put together. He was Dan Howell, for fuck’s sake! He did films, and interviews, and press releases! He could handle some awkward chit-chat with a hookup.

There was just something different about Phil, something almost unnerving about the way he looked at Dan. Especially when he smiled at him and nodded, his tongue doing that cute thing from before. “Peppermint sounds great.” He moves to sit on one of the barstools situated at the island in the center of his kitchen, and Dan just stares at him for a moment, a little entranced by how at home he seemed in his little flat, after only five minutes.

Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, Dan quickly moves to begin preparing the tea. “I have some mugs in that cupboard,” he gestures off to the side. “You can look through and find one, if you’d like.”

“Sure,” Phil chirps before sliding off the chair. Dan can feel his presence pass behind him as he moves to the cupboard. The sound of the mugs moving against the shelf is interrupted by a quiet gasp. “I have one just like this!” Phil says gleefully.

Dan glances over after hearing the words, his heart dropping when he sees Phil holding out a Mario Kart mug. Ben had gotten him that as a joke a long time ago, claiming it was a symbol for Dan being such a nerd, and he’d honestly forgotten about it. That is until now, at least. He wasn’t about to try and tell Phil he couldn’t use it though, so he only smiled and nodded, trying to keep his hands steady as he waited for the kettle to boil.

Ben was right about one thing. They were never official. Although Dan had pledged his loyalty and had stayed exclusive to Ben, the blonde had not done the same. And Dan knew that at the time, and he knew it now. It didn’t make his earlier goodbye any less painful, though.

“I think I prefer this one, though,” Phil’s still speaking, and Dan has to force himself to pay attention instead of dwelling on his stupid ex… whatever he was.

Dan nearly chokes when he sees the mug Phil’s holding now, a mischievous look in his blue eyes. He had been given the “Daddy” mug as a joke, but he’d kept it because it was big and held quite a lot of liquid. Right now, though, there was nothing more embarrassing that Phil could have pulled out of the cupboard.

“It was a joke!” He nearly screeches, hoping that Phil doesn’t think he’s some kind of weirdo now.

Phil hums, disbelief clear in the sound. “Sure, Dan.” He places the mug on the counter before turning around and searching through the cupboard again.

“Er- are you going to use this one?” Dan asks in confusion, holding a tea bag over the mug uncertainly.

With a glance over his shoulder, Phil nods. “Yeah, I’m just finding you one.”

Dan’s a little surprised at this, but he tries to hide it. “Oh. Okay.”

He drops one tea bag into the mug Phil had selected, and then waits patiently with the other tea bag, watching Phil’s face contort with concentration as he gently lifts the mugs, one at a time, carefully looking at their logos before putting them down. Eventually, he finds something that piques his interest, and he pulls it out with a grin. “Here’s yours,” he says proudly, handing Dan the white mug with a black pixelated heart on it, their fingers brushing as Dan takes it.

Glancing at it, Dan quirks an eyebrow up. “Thanks? Is this your way of saying you think I have a black heart?”

Phil’s face drops into an unimpressed look, and he crosses his arms. “No, it’s my way of suggesting that I like Undertale, too. And maybe hearts are just cool, okay?” If Dan’s not mistaken, a tinge of pink is blossoming on Phil’s cheekbones, but before he gets a good look, the electric kettle beeps and he has to turn around to finish the tea.

“So,” he starts. “Undertale?” To his surprise, Phil laughs. “What?” Dan asks, incredulous.

“You’re cute,” Phil says simply, taking the mug that Dan holds out to him.

Dan can feel heat flooding his cheeks, and he hopes and prays that Phil doesn’t notice the shift in his complexion. “Erm- thanks?” It sounds like a question.

“You’re welcome,” Phil smiles over the rim of his mug, blowing air gently to cool the tea down faster.

Dan fixates on his lips, not even processing that he’s staring until Phil speaks again. “Hm?”

Phil smirks. “I said, did you want to go sit down? Or do you usually chill in the kitchen with your conquests?”

The reminder of what he’s here for is like a slap in the face, and Dan quickly nods, although he can feel the nerves creeping back in. “Yeah, lounge is this way,” he leads the way out of the room, flicking the light on as he walks in.

“Nice place, by the way,” Phil compliments as he goes to sit on the sofa.

Dan shrugs as he sits beside him, leaving about a foot of space, but turning so that he’s properly facing Phil. “It’s not much, but I’d rather save my money than shell out an arm and a leg for a proper London flat.” He follows this with a sip of his tea, burning his tongue a little in his attempt at a distraction.

Phil studies him for a moment, a very calculating look on his face. “You’re unhappy,” he says finally. He sounds so sure of it, so positive, that it takes Dan aback.

“Sorry, what?” Dan splutters, trying to laugh. It sounds more like a cough.

Phil places his drink on the coffee table and moves to mirror Dan’s stance, so that they’re both facing each other, knees pressing into the back of the sofa. “You just… I dunno, Dan, but you don’t seem happy.” He sounds worried, as if this is something he’s really concerned with. Dan figures that it’s likely just because Phil knew he was an actor; he had no reason to care about Dan as a person.

“Well, that’s one way of flirting, I guess,” Dan jokes awkwardly.

“I’m sorry,” Phil says quietly, glancing down. “That was rude of me. But… Can I ask you a personal question?”

Dan lets out a deep breath before moving to set his own drink down, leaning against the back of the sofa with his arm propped up. This seemed like a conversation he needed his hands empty for, even if it was a conversation he wasn’t particularly keen on having. “Sure. Go for it.”

Phil licks his lips, completely distracting Dan from whatever it is they were trying to talk about. “Did you invite me here as a rebound? It’s fine if you did, but I want you to be honest with me, before anything else happens.”

Dan’s mouth drops. He hadn’t been expecting the question so bluntly, or really at all, if he’s honest. It takes him a moment of fumbling around in his own head before he’s able to form a proper answer. “Um… well, I suppose, in a way, but-“

Before he can finish, Phil cuts him off. “Okay. That’s all I needed to know.”

As he’s trying to wrap his head around the answer he’d given and Phil’s response to it, Dan’s thrown off yet again by Phil shifting closer. Dan swallows hard. He knows what’s about to happen, and he knows he wants it, but he’s undeniably nervous. After having sex with only one person for so long, he had no idea how to get back into the world of learning a person for the first time, especially physically.

“Is this okay?” Phil whispers, his hand coming up to rest at the nape of Dan’s neck.

Swallowing hard, Dan nods. “Yes,” he breathes.

Apparently, that’s all the encouragement Phil needs, because then he’s leaning forward, pressing their lips together. He’s gentle at first, not timid exactly, but cautious. The hand not pulling Dan in moves to rest on Dan’s waist, and Dan finds himself dropping his arms across Phil’s shoulders, his hands dropping to play in his hair. Dan hums into the kiss, and Phil responds by pulling away. “Good?” He asks, his lips barely an inch from Dan’s.

Dan nods, his eyes drifting shut as he leans forward again. Phil laughs softly before bringing their lips together again. This time, Dan has some sort of confidence boost, parting his lips a little, swiping his tongue across Phil’s bottom lip. Phil’s hand on his waist squeezes, and then Phil’s opening his mouth up to him, allowing Dan’s tongue to dart inside. He tastes like the peppermint tea, and something else, something sweeter. Dan wants to ask if he’s been eating sweets or if he just naturally tastes like sugar, but his mouth is otherwise occupied.

An unmeasurable amount of time passes before Dan pulls away for some air. Phil breathes hard against his lips for a moment before suddenly Dan feels himself being tugged. “Come here,” Phil whispers softly, sitting back and dropping a hand to Dan’s leg to drag him onto his lap. When Dan is situated with a leg on either side of Phil’s, now an inch or so taller, he looks down at Phil with a smile.

“Hi,” he says, his voice almost shy.

Phil smiles back, his hands running up and down Dan’s back in gentle sweeps. “Hi,” he parrots.

“I-“ before Dan can even finish that statement, his phone begins ringing in his pocket. He frowns, already knowing that it’s likely going to be his agent, pissed at him for missing yet another event. He shifts enough to tug it out of his pocket, silencing it before tossing it onto the sofa to the left of Phil.

Blue eyes follow the phone as it crashes onto the cushion, flickering back to look at Dan with an uncertainty in them that hadn’t been there before. “Ben?” he guesses, his mouth twisting into something like a grimace when he says the name.

Dan shakes his head. “No, just my manager. They’re probably mad that I missed the awards show. Again.” He rolls his eyes, but a smile graces his lips as he looks back down at Phil. He brings both hands up to cup his neck, his thumbs brushing over his Adam’s apple in feather-light strokes.

“Will you get in trouble?” Phil asks, looking guilty.

“Nope,” Dan lies. Well, it wasn’t exactly a lie. Sure, he wouldn’t get dropped from the agency or anything- he was their prize client right now. But he would get a very long lecture come Monday, or whenever he called them back. Whichever came first.

“I’m sorry,” Phil says, seeming to pick up on the lie Dan’s just told. The brunette just shrugs it off, but Phil shakes his head. “I probably should’ve just taken you to the O2 like I was meant to.” He stares past Dan, at something he can’t see, and Dan notes that his hands haven’t stopped their gentle movements against his back.

“And miss out on this?” Dan asks softly, gently pressing forward to press a kiss to Phil’s lips.

Phil smiles when they’ve separated. “I don’t want you to get in trouble,” he tells him, his voice sounding sincere.

Dan smirks, ducking his head down to speak into Phil’s ear. “Would you have to punish me? If I got in trouble?”

Instead of the sexy response he figured he’d get, Phil laughs, loudly. Dan’s cheeks flush, and he sits back, barely able to meet Phil’s gaze now that he’s embarrassed himself. “Aw, Dan,” he giggles, tugging the brunette closer to him, hugging him to his chest. Dan drops his forehead to his shoulder, refusing to meet his gaze. “I’ve got to be honest and say I’m not, um, quite into that. But if you are, that’s-“

“I’m not either. Not really,” Dan admits, lifting his head to gaze up at Phil shyly.

A curious look settles onto Phil’s face then. “Oh. So, we’re you-“

“I was kidding. Mostly.” Dan rolls his eyes and sits up, putting a couple inches between them. “Ben was into some strange stuff, so I just thought… I don’t know what I thought. Can we pretend that never happened?”

“Pretend what never happened?” Phil asks with a small smile.

Dan grins down at him. “I knew I liked you for something.”

Phil laughs. “For something other than my devishly handsome good looks? Preposterous.”

“That’s a big word,” Dan giggles, dragging his hands down the front of Phil’s t-shirt to play with the hem. He was still wearing his jacket, Dan noticed. That needed to change.

“That’s not all that’s big,” Phil says in a low voice.

It’s Dan’s turn to laugh, tipping his head back and letting the sound echo around the room. “That’s- oh my god, you- Phil,” he whines, rolling his eyes back to catch the other man’s gaze.

Phil’s looking at him with the softest gaze, his lips just barely curved up. “You’re beautiful when you laugh. Especially right here.” He drops a finger to Dan’s cheek, right where his dimple lives.

Dan can feel his cheeks flushing with heat, and he knows that there’s no way Phil hasn’t noticed. He ducks his head down, trying to hide how pleased he is by the compliment. “Thanks,” he mumbles. “You don’t have to sweet talk me, though. I’m literally sat in your lap, waiting to be ravished. I don’t need to be buttered up.”

A quiet laugh falls from Phil’s lips as he reaches up to tuck a curl back into place. Something in Dan’s chest flutters at the intimate gesture. “I’m not trying to butter you up. Although, if that’s a euphemism for lube or something, then you probably ought to reconsider that, unless you’re just already prepared.” His lips curve into a smirk.

It takes a moment for Dan to register what that means, but when he does his mouth falls open in surprise. “Phil!” He shouts, scandalized. And then he can’t help but laugh, because such bold innuendos are practically foreign to him now. He loved a good cheeky dick joke here and there, but Ben said they lacked class, which Dan figured was code for “I’m not comfortable enough dicking down a dude to make jokes about it.” It was refreshing to joke around like this with someone who was obviously perfectly comfortable in their skin.

Phil laughs along with him, his hands roaming down to rest against Dan’s hips. “I’m teasing, obviously.”

“I know,” Dan says sarcastically. “If I thought you were serious, I’d be slightly offended.”

Shrugging, Phil pokes his tongue out in that cute way. “But you’re not, so here we are.”

“Here we are,” Dan echoes, shifting to enunciate his statement.

Phil’s eyebrows raise, and he watches silently as Dan slowly drags his hands back up, tucking them under Phil’s jacket as he goes. He holds Phil’s gaze as he slowly pushes the fabric off his shoulders, watching his eyes for any sign of discomfort. Phil only shifts forward a little and moves his arms to allow Dan to remove the jacket. The minute that piece of fabric is no longer on Phil’s body, Dan leans forward, capturing his lips yet again.

Dan’s hands grip Phil’s shoulders, gently kneading the skin there as one of Phil’s hands comes up to cradle his jaw. It’s nearly perfect, aside from all the layers of clothes still separating them, and Dan lets his problem with this be known with a whine against Phil’s lips.

“What do you want?” Phil asks gently, pulling away from Dan’s lips to trail kisses down his jaw.

Dan drags a hand up to tangle into Phil’s hair, messing up the perfectly styled quiff that was there. “You,” he groans, slowly grinding his hips down into Phil’s. The man beneath him stutters to a stop against his throat, and Dan can hear a soft curse fall from his lips.

“Do you have a bedroom?” He asks, his lips tickling Dan’s neck.

Something about the way he’s phrased the question makes Dan snort out a laugh. “No, I sleep in the bathtub. Yes, Phil, I have a bedroom.” He can’t help but roll his eyes.

Phil sits back and gives him an unimpressed look. “Ha ha. You’re hilarious,” he deadpans. Dan grins at him, and something shifts in Phil’s expression. He sighs, leaning forward to press a kiss to Dan’s dimple. “You’re well lucky you’re cute,” he breathes against Dan’s skin.

Dan laughs but he can feel that giddy feeling from his earlier compliment making a return in his stomach. He wasn’t used to being so openly appreciated, and he honestly could say that it was quite nice. “C’mon, then.” He climbs off Phil’s lap and holds a hand out to lead him into the bedroom.

“Our tea-“ Phil begins, giving the mugs a wary look.

Rolling his eyes, Dan picks up his hand and pulls him to stand. “It’s cheap tea, it’s fine.” He begins making his way down the hall, turning the lights off as he went.

Phil makes a humming noise. “I can’t believe you gave a guest cheap tea, mate,” he teases.

Dan glances back at him with a mocking smile. “I don’t shell out the good stuff for just anyone, you know.”

There’s laughter as he drags Phil into his bedroom, releasing his hand the minute they’ve stepped into the room. He immediately turns to face Phil, reattaching their lips in the darkness of the room. He gently steps forward, inching Phil back just enough that he can close the door, pressing him against the wood until a click is heard. Phil responds to the kiss easily enough, his hands coming up to wrap around Dan’s hips as he had earlier. The little circles he’s tracing with his thumbs drive Dan insane, but in the best way.

Phil pulls away eventually, panting against Dan’s lips. “Should we turn the light on or something? It’s dark in here,” His voice sounds joking, but something about his words makes Dan freeze. A memory of something that happened long ago and that had long been forgotten, prods at the back of his mind.

“Shh!” Ben hushed him loudly, covering his mouth.

Dan gently pulled his hand away, looking up into his eyes curiously. “Why? We’re the only ones here. No one can hear us,” he laughs, but uneasiness sets in when Ben sets him with a glare.

“I don’t want your neighbors getting the wrong idea,” he explains, shifting so that he’s holding himself away from where he’s pressed Dan’s body against the door.

Confused, Dan brushes Ben’s hair back. The blonde flinches at the action, swatting Dan’s hand away. “Babe, they don’t know-“

“Don’t,” Ben warns, his eyes darkening. “Don’t call me that. I’ve told you.”

Dan swallows. “Sorry,” he whispers. “Can we just-“

“Turn the light off,” Ben mutters, gesturing to the light switch as he moves to lay on the bed.

A frown etches its way onto Dan’s lips. “It’s like half midnight, Ben, and I can’t really see-“

“Turn the fucking light off, Daniel, or just forget about it.”

Dan stares at him for a moment before nodding slowly, moving to flick the switch off. He knew why Ben didn’t want the light on. He just thought… Well, maybe someday he’ll want to see him in the light.

“Dan? Are you okay?” Phil’s voice reaches his ears, and Dan snaps himself out of his thoughts.

“I want the lights on,” he blurts, rather than answering the question.

Phil sends him a strange look, but nods before leaning over to flick the switch that would turn the light on. “There we go,” he says, voice soft. He’s still got a strange look in his eyes, as if Dan’s some kind of injured animal and he’ll hurt him if he moves too fast.

Without waiting for anymore questioning, Dan grips Phil’s t-shirt and drags him close, kissing him deeply. Phil doesn’t protest, wrapping an arm around Dan’s waist and holding him close. Dan carefully begins walking backwards until his knees hit the edge of his bed. He allows their lips to part, making quick work of the buttons on his shirt. He tosses it somewhere else, not paying attention to where it lands as he takes in Phil’s reaction.

Phil’s expression has shifted into something hungry and wanting, and Dan couldn’t be more thrilled by the look on his face as he studies Dan. Ben never looked at him this way. He certainly never looked at him this way in the light and for such a long time. “Dan.” Phil’s voice sounds almost choked.

“Can I...” Dan trails off, slowly bringing a hand up to the hem of Phil’s shirt. “Can I see you too?”

“God, yes.” Phil quickly tugs his own shirt over his head, dropping it to the floor. Dan immediately drops his gaze to his chest, and he swears he can feel his heart beating out of his chest when he sees the chest hair there. Ben had chest hair as well, but he didn’t like to be ogled.

Phil didn’t seem to mind in the slightest. Dan slowly drags a hand down Phil’s chest, his fingernails lightly scratching down as he traces a path to the top of his jeans. “Fuck, Phil,” he groans. Without waiting for a response, he drops to the edge of the bed, giving him the perfect opportunity to begin peppering kisses across Phil’s chest, loving the way the hair tickles his lips as he makes his way down.

“Oh,” Phil lets out a soft sigh, his hand falling to Dan’s hair as he works. “Dan, will you-“

Before he can finish, Dan drops a kiss right over the zipper on his jeans, effectively cutting his words off. “Yes?” He says sweetly, looking up at Phil. The height difference with him sitting on the edge of the bed does something funny to his stomach, and he finds himself wishing, not for the first time, that he was shorter.

Phil chews on his lip for a moment, studying Dan, before gently pushing him back. “I wanna suck you.”

There’s not a lot of things that make Dan nervous about sex. Having his cock in another man’s mouth, however, was one of those things. Ben preferred to be the receiver on that end, naturally, so Dan hadn’t had a proper blow job in what felt like forever. So, to say that his stomach was swarming with nerves was an understatement.

“Dan?” Phil calls softly from his position at the foot of the bed. He’d settled himself on his knees there, staring down at Dan with a soft gaze. “If you don’t want me to, I won’t.”

Dan had no clue how Phil just seemed to know just what he was feeling, but he was so, so grateful. He shakes his head once he registers his words, though. “I want you to. I just...” He gestures vaguely, not finishing the sentence.

Phil sends him a confused look, and Dan’s reminded that although it might feel like it, Phil can’t actually read his mind. “I don’t know what you want unless you say it, babe,” he says gently, the pet name seeming to fall out with ease.

After taking a moment to gather his thoughts, Dan manages to answer him. “Ben didn’t like going down on me, so I just... I’m not sure if I, um... I don’t know. It’s dumb. Just, go ahead.” He gestures down to where the bulge in his pants is slightly softening from all the talking they’re doing.

“Dan,” Phil sighs. He moves to crawl up the bed, placing an arm on either side of Dan’s head to hold himself up over him. “I don’t want to do anything you’re uncomfortable with. But if you’re holding back because your idiot ex-boyfriend didn’t know how to treat you right, then I want you to just let go of that. I’m not him. This is different. You can be someone different with me.”

Dan considers his words as he stares up into his blue eyes, pondering for a long time what to say to that. Eventually, his mouth moves before he’s even really made his decision. “What if I want to be just me?” He whispers.

Phil smiles sweetly before ducking down and pressing a kiss to Dan’s cheek. “I’d love nothing more than to spend the evening with just you, then.”

A shy smile works its way onto his lips then, and Dan quickly captures Phil’s lips with his own in an effort to distract himself from that giddy feeling in his stomach. They kiss languidly for a while, and then slowly, Phil makes his way down, trailing kisses along his chest as he goes. He seems to consider stopping at Dan’s nipples, but he simply drops a sweet kiss to each before continuing down.

When his hands reach for Dan’s belt buckle, the brunette’s stomach swoops in arousal. Phil’s deft fingers work quickly in undoing it, moving right along to the button and zipper. “Lift up,” He pats Dan’s thigh gently, waiting until Dan’s done as instructed before he tugs the dress pants down his thighs, sitting back to pull them off his legs entirely. “You’ve got such gorgeous legs,” he murmurs. As if to prove his point, Phil takes one of Dan’s calves in hand and begins pressing kisses down, making a path to his black Calvin’s, which are straining tightly over his throbbing cock.

“Please,” He whispers, having very little patience for the teasing way Phil’s kissing up his thigh.

Those blue eyes flicker up to meet his gaze, and Dan swears he stops breathing for a moment. “Be patient, sweetheart.”

The nickname causes a swirl of emotions in his chest, and he tries hard to hide his ridiculous smile. “I like- oh, fuck,” he interrupts himself when Phil’s lips finally ghost over his cloth-covered cock.

The sensation doesn’t last long, as Phil pulls away to shoot him a self-satisfied smirk. “What was that you were saying?”

“I don’t-“ Dan means to say he doesn’t exactly recall, but then Phil’s hand is squeezing his hardness and he’s certain the air in his lungs is gone. “I don’t know!” He whines, nearly thrashing against the touch he’s being granted. It’s not nearly enough, but it just feels so good, especially with all the buildup.

“You were saying you liked something, I believe. Was it...” Phil ghosts his lips over the material again. “This?”

Dan fights the feelings of lust and pleasure to try and recall what exactly he was trying to say, because it might have been relevant. As soon as he realizes, he spews it out, no filter whatsoever. “I like when you call me sweetheart, it’s-“ a whine when Phil removes his touch. “I really like it.”

It’s quiet in the room for a moment, and it gives Dan a moment to come down from the cloud of lust a bit. He raises his head just enough to shoot Phil a look, surprised when he finds him staring down at where he’s tracing patterns onto Dan’s thigh, a thoughtful look on his face.

“Phil?” He calls softly.

The man in question glances up at him, a soft smile on his lips. “Hm?”

“Are you... is this okay?” He’s a little unsure now that they’ve paused.

“Yes, of course it is,” Phil says quickly, easing Dan’s doubt a bit. “I just...” He trails of as he leans his head to the side, resting his temple against Dan’s thigh. “You deserve something good. I want this to be good for you.”

Dan blushes, but manages a small laugh. “It’s perfect. This is perfect, I promise.”

A smirk crawls onto Phil’s face, and he slowly drags his fingers to trace over Dan’s hardness. “Just this? Do you want to just do this, or would you prefer something a little...” he leans down then, pressing his lips to the material and sucking gently through the fabric. It’s just enough friction to have Dan bucking his hips.

“More,” he pants, shifting around. “God, please, more.”

“My name’s Phil, but I guess you can call me God, too,” Phil teases, dipping his fingers under the waistband of Dan’s pants.

“Shut up,” Dan groans. “You should be doing something with your mouth that isn’t talking.”

Phil giggles, like actually giggles, and Dan doesn’t even try to hide the grin on his face at the reaction. “How very bold of you, Daniel,” he murmurs, dragging the material down slowly.

Dan doesn’t have the heart to respond with any sort of joke, especially not when the material is gone and there’s nothing separating his cock from Phil’s view. “Please,” He whispers, unable to help himself from begging.

“You’re so gorgeous, Dan,” Phil gushes before dropping his head down to press a kiss to the head of Dan’s cock. Dan squirms under him, searching for more. “Ah, sit still, Dan. Good boys sit still.” He’s clearly teasing and referencing their earlier conversation, but Dan can’t help but gasp at the way the words seem to just turn him on even more.

“Fuck,” Dan groans when Phil’s lips finally wrap around him, properly blowing him now. He drops a hand to Phil’s hair and begins dragging his fingers through it gently, not forcing his head down but just feeling the softness of Phil’s hair as his head bobs. “You’re so good,” he mutters, incoherently, as he allows his head to fall back, just taking in the sensations.

Phil only hums and continues his movements. It’s not long before Dan can feel it becoming too much, and he knows he doesn’t want to finish this way. He gently tugs Phil’s head away with his hair, and those blue eyes flick up to look at him questioningly. “Okay?” He questions softly, his hand stroking Dan’s thigh.

“Mhm. I want…” He trails off then, a little embarrassed to finish that particular sentence.

A sweet smile graces Phil’s face, and he props his head up on his hand, his elbow digging into the mattress on the other side of Dan’s thigh. “Use your words, sweetheart.”

Dan allows a breathy sigh to fall from his lips before gesturing for Phil to come closer. “C’mere. Wanna kiss you.”

“Your wish is my command,” Phil grins as he crawls up the bed, settling himself between Dan’s legs and bringing their lips together.

They lay like that for a bit, Dan trailing his fingers through Phil’s hair and finding the feeling so pleasant he just doesn’t want to stop. Eventually, though, he does, as Phil has begun lightly grinding down on him, making it impossible to ignore the arousal coursing through his veins. Pulling Phil down with his hair, Dan ghosts his lips over his jawline, making his way up to his ear. “I want you to fuck me,” he whispers hoarsely.

Phil groans at this, and Dan smirks at the way the other man ruts down against him. “Condom?” He breathes.

Dan nods to the bedside table to his left. “Top drawer,” he instructs.

Phil ducks down to press another kiss to his lips before pulling away and moving to rummage through his drawer, coming back with a foil packet and a bottle of lube. “This is the same brand I use,” he informs him with a concentrated look on his face as he begins unscrewing the cap.

Something about this makes Dan giggle, but he tries to cover his mouth when Phil looks up at him. “Sorry,” he says behind his hand.

“What?” Phil asks, an eyebrow raised.

Dan shrugs, spreading his legs apart as Phil moves down the bed to settle down there. “I dunno. That was just a cute thing to say.”

Phil sends him a gentle smile then, and Dan can’t help that stupid fluttery feeling in his chest again. He hadn’t felt that way about anyone in so long, and as much as it scared him, he never wanted it to go away. “You’re cute,” Phil tells him quietly as he pours the liquid onto his fingers.

“No, you,” Dan protests softly.

A finger gently pets over his rim before slowly sinking in, and Dan can’t help but let out a small breath. “Relax, Dan,” Phil says gently. He strokes his unoccupied hand over Dan’s thigh. “Are you alright?”

“Mhm. You can-“ He breathes out again, trying to keep still as he adjusts to the feeling of Phil’s finger sliding inside him. He was definitely not used to going this slow, and something about how gentle Phil was being made him squirm uncomfortably. “You can add another.”

Phil frowns at him then, and it’s the first time Dan’s seen a real, proper frown from him all evening. “I don’t do that,” he says softly. “I’m not going to hurt you, Dan.”

Something in the way he says that has Dan feeling his eyes fill with tears. He takes in a shuddering breath, struggling to keep it under control, but Phil’s going so slow and his hands are so soft and gentle, and before Dan knows it he’s crying, big, messy tears streaming down his face.

“Dan?” Phil calls in alarm. “Dan, what-“

“I’m sorry!” Dan cries, covering his eyes. He barely notices when Phil pulls his finger out, but he is fully aware when the bed shifts, and strong arms are wrapping around him, pulling him to rest against a warm chest.

“Shh. It’s okay. Please don’t cry, Dan. I’m sorry about… whatever I did.” Phil strokes his hair gently as he speaks, his fingers soothing against Dan’s scalp.

“It’s not you,” Dan breathes.

There’s a pause, before Phil speaks again. “I don’t… I don’t think I understand,” he admits.

Dan sighs, pressing his face to Phil’s chest. “It’s fucking Ben.”

Phil hums at this but doesn’t respond immediately. When he does, however, his words surprise Dan. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Chewing on his lip, Dan actually considers it. He feels stupid, but at this point he’s certain he’s ruined the mood, so he’s not sure how bad he should feel about sharing his trauma with this man who’s seen his dick but is still a stranger, in most senses of the word. “Can I?” he finds himself whispering.

“Course,” Phil replies. “If you want to. I’ll listen.”

Dan doesn’t speak for a long time. He tries to collect his thoughts, tries to bring something to the front of his mind that seems to be worth talking about. When it came to the relationship he had with Ben, or the lack thereof, he had a hundred things to say, but being faced with saying them- well he didn’t know where to start.

When he finally speaks, he surprises himself when he answers. “I used to think I was in love with him.”

Phil hums, probably indicating for Dan to continue. It feels strange having such an intimate conversation with a stranger while he’s naked, but he decides it’s probably worth continuing.

So, he does. “I used to sit up all night, waiting for him to text me that he was horny, so I could offer to help out, just so I could see him for a little while. I didn’t even care if I finished, I just… I wanted to see him so bad. And when we’d go out together, I’d see him flirting with other people- it made me sick, that did. I’d go to the bathroom and just sick everywhere. I hated it.” He can feel tears streaming down his cheeks, but when he notices, Phil’s fingers come down to gently wipe them away. “I’d watch him go home with someone else, and I’d cry myself to sleep. But then the next day when he wanted to go for lunch or something, I’d go, because I couldn’t put any distance between us. I just couldn’t.”

Phil doesn’t answer, his hand still gently stroking through Dan’s curls.

“But that’s not love, is it? Loving someone who makes you so sick that you can barely move, or who calls when they need you but don’t pick up when it’s two am and you’re sitting on the fire escape thinking about jumping-“ he releases a shuddering breath, and he’s almost positive that Phil tightens his grip on him. “That’s not love at all. Is it?”

It’s mostly rhetorical, but when the silence is interrupted by Phil’s soft tone, Dan doesn’t hesitate to listen.

“I don’t think…” he starts out slowly, sounding cautious. “I don’t think someone else can tell you that what you feel isn’t love. But, when the person you’re in love with treats you that way-“ his voice sounds choked, and Dan hates that he’s the cause of it. “-Then I think it’s safe to say that the person doesn’t love you back.”

His voice is so, so gentle, and so are his hands, but Dan can’t help the sob that escapes him. “I know,” he says wetly, closing his eyes tightly in an effort to stop the tears. “I know, and I hate it.”

They sit there for a while without talking, and eventually Dan realizes how stupid he feels. “God. I’m sorry,” he groans, disentangling himself from Phil and looking down at him with an apologetic grimace.

“For what?” Phil asks, sounding genuinely perplexed.

Dan gestures around them helplessly. “For being so… I don’t know. You don’t go to hook up with someone and expect them to just spill their fucking problems, you know?”

Phil frowns at him then, tilting his head as if he hadn’t understood. “You know I didn’t just come to hook up, right?”

Then it’s Dan’s turn to act confused, because he’s fairly certain he hadn’t misread the situation that much. “What?”

With a small smile, Phil tugs his arm so he’s laying against him once again. This time, though, Dan rolls onto his stomach and props his chin on Phil’s chest to meet his eyes as he speaks. “I would’ve offered to come in and chat if you hadn’t invited me, Dan.”

It takes a long moment for Dan to process this. When he does, he shakes his head. “But you- we were about to have sex!” He protests.

Phil shrugs. “That was just a bonus.” A cheeky smile frames his lips before they shift into something more serious. “But honestly, Dan. I was in the car with you and Ben for a while tonight, I saw what happened. I’m not blind, you know.”

Dan flushes, his mind going back to when Ben had covered his mouth to whisper-yell at him. He shivers involuntarily at the reminder. “I hadn’t thought you noticed.”

A snort falls from Phil’s nose. “Of course I did. There I had Dan Howell and some twat sitting in the back of my car arguing, naturally I tried to pay attention.”

“Oh,” Dan nods, suddenly getting it. “Of course, yeah. Actor, drama. Got it.”

Phil sends him a confused look. “No,” he says slowly, his blue eyes narrowing. “That’s not what I’m saying, Dan. No one deserves to get treated that way. The fact that I recognized you just meant that I felt closer to the situation and wanted to make sure you stayed safe. It had fuck all to do with the fact that you’ve got a day job as an actor.”

Dan’s gaze falls down to where he’d tucked his hands under his chin, and he studies his fingernails carefully. “Oh,” he repeats. “So… You just… What, you were just going to pop in for tea and ask how my relationship was going?” Something about it bothers him, but he can’t put his finger on what.

“No. I was going to ask if you wanted to hang out. You seem like a genuinely nice person, and honestly, you seem like you need nicer friends. I would’ve asked if you wanted to play some video games or something, and if later on you decided you wanted to talk about it, I would have listened, just like I did now.” Phil reaches a hand up to pet Dan’s hair. He lets out a sigh, and his breath fans across the space between them and lands gently on Dan’s face. “I’m sorry if I made you feel bad about telling me. I genuinely just wanted you to feel like you had someone to listen, if you needed it.”

Before Dan can really consider it, he’s moving, shifting closer and pressing his lips to Phil’s. There’s a brief second where he’s not sure if Phil’s going to reciprocate, but then his hand is on Dan’s hip, and his other his resting in Dan’s curls, holding him closer. Dan tries to put all his gratefulness, all his relief into the kiss, showing Phil how glad he is that he met him tonight. It had only been a few hours, but Dan had never felt so bonded to a person in such a short period of time.

“Thank you,” he whispers against Phil’s lips when he finally pulls away.

“You’re welcome,” Phil whispers back.

He doesn’t ask what Dan means, and Dan’s grateful for that. He wants to have a moment without talking, or maybe several, and now that he feels an emotional weight has been lifted off his chest, he feels that maybe they can finally have that. But first, he wants to check and make sure that he hadn’t fucked it up already.

“I ruined the mood, didn’t I?” he asks with a hint of a laugh in his voice.

Phil pulls away enough to smile. “Nah. You’ve changed it, but I think in a good way. Are you still-?”

Dan slowly drags his hips up, and although his cock had started to soften, this new simulation causes a new swell of arousal to rush through him. “Yeah, are you?”

“Mhm,” Phil presses a kiss to his lips again before gently pulling away. “Still want me to top?”

Dan chews on his lip for a moment, but nods. “I really just-“ he flushes as soon as he processes what he was about to say.

“What?” Phil asks gently, dragging his lips down to kiss along Dan’s throat. “What do you need, babe?”

The pet name has him ducking his head to hide his smile, but then he’s feeling embarrassed all over again over what he was about to admit. “I want you to take care of me,” he breathes.

Phil doesn’t pause his movements, dragging his lips from the base of Dan’s throat and back up to his lips. He presses his lips to Dan’s softly for just a moment before pulling away. “Lay down.”

Dan immediately obliges, rolling over onto his back and watching as Phil moves down the bed to resume his earlier position. He spreads his legs again, only feeling slightly embarrassed about how on-display he was. The lights being on didn’t help how nervous he suddenly felt, but he preferred being able to see the way that Phil tugged his own pants off, finally leaving both of them naked. Dan was impressed, to say the least, and there was absolutely nothing else he wanted to do tonight other than Phil.

“I’m going to go slow, okay? I don’t want to hurt you, so we’re starting slow, alright?” Phil looks down at him with a raised eyebrow, squeezing the lube out onto his right hand.

“Alright.” Dan nods in understanding. He could handle that. He’d had his breakdown, but now he was certain that he’d be alright.

“If you want me to stop, at any point and for any reason, you have to tell me, okay, Dan?” Phil’s voice is serious, and the authority in his tone does something funny to Dan’s stomach.

“Okay.”

Phil nods, satisfied with that answer, before he moves his hand down to Dan’s most sensitive place. He tugs at Dan a few times before dropping his hand down to stroke his fingers over Dan’s hole. He meets Dan’s gaze, waiting for him to nod before he slowly slips a finger inside, pumping in and out gently.

Dan sighs, dropping his head back. “Good?” Phil asks softly.

Nodding, Dan murmurs out, “So good.”

Phil lets out a soft laugh at this, and true to his word, he works slowly, eventually adding a second, and finally a third finger, moving them apart and stretching Dan open as gently as possible. When he finally pulls them out, Dan’s sweating, his hips grinding down onto nothing as soon as Phil’s hand is gone. He lets out a whine, unable to stop the noise from falling from his mouth.

“Are you alright?” Phil whispers.

Dan opens his eyes, not even aware he’d closed them, to find Phil hovering over him. “Yes,” he breathes. He leans up to capture Phil’s lips with his own, pleased when Phil swipes his tongue over Dan’s bottom lip. “Phil, please,” he whispers.

Phil sits back on his heels, nodding as he finds the foil packet in the sheets and rips it open, rolling the condom on with quick fingers. He moves to hover over Dan, pressing their lips together again. When he pulls away, he murmurs, “Ready?”

“Mhm, yes,” Dan mumbles, tossing his head back as he waits, impatiently, for Phil to get inside him already. Phil chuckles softly at this, and Dan can feel the mattress shifting as he moves down to sit back on his heels, pulling Dan’s legs up and wrapping them around his back. The way he’s positioned them has Dan arching his back up a little, and Phil grabs a pillow and quickly pushes it under his lower back. Dan hates himself for it, but the sweet, thoughtful gesture makes him blush.

Surprisingly, Phil doesn’t speak again as he gently pushes inside. It’s almost as if they’re both holding their breath, the room gone silent aside from their heavy breathing, as Phil gently presses in, inch by inch. Once he’s finally bottomed out, Dan opens his mouth and pants. The stretch feels amazing, but it’s undeniably painful. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t glad that Phil had taken his time to stretch him so thoroughly, but even with it, he felt like his eyes might start to water.

“Let me…” Phil cuts himself off with a groan, his head dropping as he pants. “Tell me when I can move.”

It takes a few moments, but eventually Dan nods, reaching forward and patting Phil’s hand that’s wrapped around his hip. “You can move. Please, please, move.”

His plea is answered, Phil sliding out before pressing back in slowly, the slide feeling like one of the best things Dan’s ever experienced. “You feel so good,” Phil groans, lifting a hand from Dan’s body to push his messy hair back out of his eyes. “Fuck,” he breathes.

Dan whines, lifting his hips up to meet his thrusts. “Please, Phil,” he begs, trying his hardest to make him go faster.

“What do you want? Use your words, sweetheart.”

The name has Dan’s eyes rolling back. “Faster, please. Please, fuck, Phil.”

Phil responds to this by shifting a little, the movement causing him to slide impossibly further into Dan’s willing body, and the brunette swears he’s going to faint. Before he even has a moment to wonder over how impossibly close he feels to Phil right then, Phil is moving faster, just like Dan wanted.

“Oh my god, fuck, oh- Phil,” Dan babbles, tossing his head back and forth as he feels Phil press against his prostate with every thrust. He knows this is going to end too quickly, all the buildup from this evening having his stomach tightening already.

“Dan, Dan, oh fuck.” The words seem to fall from Phil’s lips without any thought, and Dan’s intoxicated by the sound of his name falling from Phil’s lips.

“Please.” Dan has no idea what he’s asking for, but he can only plead for something to bring him over the edge he’s on. Phil doesn’t disappoint, his hand coming up to wrap around his length and pumping in time to his thrust the best he can. “Phil, oh god, gonna-“

“Go ahead, sweetheart.” Even now, Phil’s voice is gentle, and with that nickname falling from his lips, Dan doesn’t stand a chance. He comes quickly, all over Phil’s hand and his own chest, whines falling from his lips even after he’s finished.

Phil thrusts into him a few more times before he stills, a drawn out swear leaving his mouth as he releases, his thumbs stroking circles onto Dan’s hips as he does. He slowly eases out, pulling the condom off and tying it. He looks a little unsure at first, and Dan nods to the trashcan beside the wall. “Over there,” he says tiredly, tossing an arm across his forehead as Phil climbs off the bed to dispose of it.

Dan closes his eyes for just a moment, just to catch his breath, but they snap open when he feels something soft running over his stomach. “Shh. Just me,” Phil soothes him quickly. Dan glances down to find him gently cleaning up the stickiness on his chest with a tissue, one he’d probably found on his nightstand.

“Thank you,” Dan murmurs, watching as Phil gently wipes him down before moving to toss the tissue into the trash.

Phil shrugs, coming back over to sit on the edge of the bed. “So, um…” He looks awkward, for the first time this evening, and Dan wonders how often he does the whole hooking-up-with-strangers thing.

“I have some pj’s in the second drawer of my dresser.” Dan gestures carelessly over at the piece of furniture, his limbs feeling heavy with exhaustion and the relief of a good orgasm. “If you want to sleep in something, that is.” His words are punctuated with a yawn as he climbs under the cover.

A look of shock is on Phil’s face. “Oh, um… What?”

Dan lifts his head to give him a confused look. “Aren’t you staying the night? It’s awfully late to be driving home.” Phil doesn’t seem sure about what to say to that, so Dan turns the blanket on the right side of the bed down. “C’mere. I’m a cuddler.”

Carefully, as if he’s unsure what he’s allowed to touch post-sex, Phil settles onto the bed beside Dan, laying stiffly beside him. “Are you…” He swallows hard, and Dan watches the way it moves his Adam’s apple. “Are you sure you want me to stay here?”

Dan nods, moving closer and tossing a leg over Phil’s. “Mhm. I don’t want you to drive home so late. Oh, by the way, I’ll pay you for the Uber in the morning. I completely forgot about that earlier.” He feels like he’s already half asleep at this point, so he’s not sure how coherent he’ll be if Phil decides to respond.

“Okay. Night, Dan.” He whispers softly. Dan feels a hand gently card through his hair, and the thought of waking up next to this gorgeous man makes him smile.

“Night, Phil,” he mumbles, hoping that it sounds semi-intelligible. He quickly drops off into a deep sleep, his mind swirled with thoughts of black hair and blue eyes and tongues between teeth and sweet nicknames. He works himself into a proper good dream starring the man he’s sharing a bed with, for once feeling content enough to sleep through the whole night without stirring.

When he awakes the next morning, he’s alone.

#phan #phanfiction #this is based on a short film but i got v carried away with the angst and backstory #fluff #angst #smut #au #some emotional abuse but not dnp #dnb

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edream93 · 5 years

Text

London Fog Nightcaps Part 6: Falter

Here’s Part 6 for London Fog Nightcaps. You can also find this story on AO3, FF.net, as well as the previous chapter here.

WARNING: There is some reference to suicidal ideation and possible suicide via pills. I understand this can be triggering for some so if that makes you uncomfortable but you still want to continue to read this story post this chapter, please let me know in an ask - it can be anonymous - and I can write you a quick summary of this chapter without triggers so that you can be caught up.

With that said. I hope you enjoy!

It took three days before Uma felt vaguely human again. Which wasn’t saying much when it was difficult remembering how that felt exactly, again. Didn’t most people wake with a pressing weight on their chest that they just got used to?

She slept through most of the first day, waking up only twice to shuffle her way to the bathroom. By the time she had tucked herself back into bed, an exhausted sleep coming quickly, the sun was setting and the shop below was mostly quiet.

When she woke again, mouth parched and the stars and the moon her only company, Uma grabbed a glass of water and a granola bar from one of the bags that CJ had brought. She stared contemplatively at the bottle of ibuprofen also bought, dark curling tendrils of weariness curling and caressing her mind like the smoke of her mother’s favorite cigarettes curled into the air. She opened the bottle, careful to take one pill, only one, before shoving the rest of the bottle somewhere down deep with the rest of the groceries she had still yet to unpack. She took a long swig of water before swallowing the pill and crawling back into bed.

The second day, Uma found herself in and out of wakefulness, a strange limbo of fever induced tiredness and bed ridden restlessness. She forced herself to stay awake long enough to heat up a container of soup, despite her stomach clenching at the thought of being forced to hold something. She had been surprised to see that CJ hadn’t just gotten her a bag full of canned soup like any sane person but had instead apparently gone to the diner from the other day, Granny’s, and ordered several sealed containers of chicken noodle soup to go.

When the soup was warmed and Uma took her first sip, she nearly burned her tongue trying to get a second taste of the delicious soup. In just a few minutes, despite her usually low appetite and her stomach’s earlier protest, she had eaten nearly a container and a half of soup.

Feeling slightly better and not having to reach for a tissue in the last ten minutes, Uma returned to bed. She attempted to read a random book that had been left behind by a customer weeks ago, a tale about a knight and a pirate falling in love but two pages in had her dozing off, sleeping the rest of the day away.

The third day, Uma awoke sometime during the morning rush. A muffled buzz of conversation rose from the shop below. The coffee shop’s noise a sharp contrast to her hard disorientated breathing.

The night before her dreams had pushed through her cold medicine fogged mind, demanding to be acknowledged. She dreamt of her dead mother with legs that split into dark tentacles that wrapped and wrapped around her, not letting her go. She dreamt of storms and waves and drowning, pulling her deeper and deeper into inky waters. She dreamt of bright blue eyes and a smile tinged with brokenness that stirred emotions she wished would stay dead to life.

Waking up feeling like her thin sheets were too suffocating and like a rhino had been tap dancing on the back of her eyes, Uma knew that going back to sleep seemed the furthest thing from her mind.

The thermometer that CJ had tossed into the bag of things she had brought days ago beeped actively after Uma placed it in her mouth. She tapped her finger anxiously against her thigh, feeling her mind slowly drift from her body. Her gaze turned towards where she knew the bottle of pills were hidden before she pinched herself, hard, mind sluggishly returning back to focus.

Fuck no, she reminded herself, albeit it weakly. You're not like her.

The thermometer beeped with a finish chirp, pulling her away from thoughts better not dived into.

Higher than normal, but not a fever. Good enough, she thought, already reaching for her still unpacked bag of clothes.

Uma forced herself to swallow the bile that rose to her throat when her hand accidentally brushed against her mother’s urn or when changing her shirt, Ursula’s necklace glinted mockingly in the dim light until it was covered again by that same shirt that girl, Melody, had given her days ago.

It only took a few minutes for her to pull on some clothes and rush down the stairs from her apartment, anything to pretend to put space between her and her nightmares and the temptation her mother had never been strong enough to leave.

Uma was almost off the stairs, almost close to her freedom beyond the back door, when she heard a voice from the front of the shop, causing her to falter on the last step.

“I’m gonna take off now, Ettie. Tell the little rugrat I’ll be back before the next crowd when she comes in,” a familiar voice smoothly caressed her ears like the milk she had watched him pour into his coffee just a few nights before. He pushed past the swinging doors to the back of the shop, black leather jacket half way on and a wry smile on his lips like fucking Michelangelo himself carved it there.

Guyliner really had no right to be that pretty, her unhelpful mind thought as his forget-me-not blue eyes landed on her.

Harriet shouted something in response back to him from the front but neither really heard as he stood just as frozen as she was at the sight of her.

“How is your face so pretty again?,” rushed out of her mouth before she could stop them. Smooth, she mentally berated herself taking in the way that the bruises on his face seemed almost unnoticeable in such a short period of time.

He took her words in stride as he shrugged his jacket completely on. “Wonders of makeup, lass,” he answered, ego stroked but her unintentional compliment. He almost seemed to preen in a way at her praise that wasn’t totally unbearable for her to witness. “Don't wanna give the gossips something new to squawk over. Now,” he swaggered his way towards her, all tall, dark, and mischief as he was still able to look down at her even from her place one step up.

Uma unintentional breathed in the smell of coffee and old leather off of him. It worked for him, she thought watching him.

“Why aren’t you in bed, darling?” he asked just a hint of genuine concern before he teasingly leaned in, eyes briefly flicking down towards her shirt, seemingly preening even more for reasons beyond Uma's understanding. He tilted his head down slightly so they were eye level and asked in a tone that felt all too intimate for Uma, “Lookin’ for someone to warm your bed? I’d be willin’ to volunteer as your cuddle buddy.” He wiggled his eyebrows flirtatiously.

Idiot, she thought with very little bite.

Rolling her eyes (something she seemed to be doing a lot in his presence), Uma pushed him back with one hand against the middle of his chest to regain her personal space. “What are you doing here, Guyliner?”

“Well, I’m trying to be a little spoon in this little cuddle party we’re planning,” he easily answered placing his much larger hand over hers that still rested on his chest, thumb seemingly stroking the back of hers unconsciously. “That is, unless ye wanted to be the little but I have a feelin’ yer a big spoon kind of lass.”

Uma snatched her hand away, ignoring the way the warmth from his hand annoyingly seemed to warm her cheeks hot or the wink that he sent her. She crossed her arms, silent and expectant.

Sighing, Guyliner’s flirty expression slipped away. “Just giving Ettie and Callie a hand,” he jammed his hands in his pockets looking uncomfortably off to the side.

He gave no further explanation and something buzzed at the back of Uma’s mind, nagging her to remember some bit of information that it seemed she was forgetting. But like a sneeze that just wouldn’t happen, whatever it was felt just out of her grasp. Besides, his flirting turned off so suddenly revealed the same awkwardness and guarded vulnerability she felt when she asked how he had gotten beat up days ago.

She needed to leave. She didn’t know him. Didn’t owe him anything. He wasn’t her problem.

“Well...Uh...thanks for helping Flotsam and Jetsam,” she said awkwardly, moving around him and closer to the back door.

She hated the way his bright blue eyes followed her like spotlights, curiosity and humor bright and magnified by slightly smudged black eyeliner that made his stare on her even more intense.

On the heels of the fading but still jarring dreams that had forced her out of her bed, Uma just wanted to disappear. To not feel his stare like a blanket smothering her. To fade quietly out of awareness. To continue to be numb…

She didn’t owe anyone anything. Not him. Not Killian. Not Harriet or CJ. Not her mother...

“I can’t be here,” she said quickly, taking the last few steps out of the door and not looking back before sprinting out, ignoring his call after her, ignoring the boy with the blue eyes that reflected back the same easy to identify sadness and detachment within herself that rose and broke like waves ready to knock her over like a lone toy ship trying to survive a storm at sea.

#disney descendants #huma #harry hook #uma descendants #tw: depressed character #uma needs a hug #harry needs a hug #i feel like i need a hug after writing this #london fog nightcaps #edream93 fanfic #edream93 fanfiction

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sunflowerstrays · 6 years

Text

exo as your boyfriend: when you realise you like them

Kim Minseok // Xiumin

you had your huge, final dance show and examinations coming up to see whether you could actually progress on to the next stage of the course you were taking

and to say you was nervous would be a huge understatement

your entire weekends recently had been devoted to the dance studio, leaving little room for you to have met up with Minseok

of course you still texted him constantly, and he’d been aware of the dance exams

yet you had not expected him to show up with a bright smile and seat in the front row - only adding to your nervousness

all the time that you were performing you’d focused on him in the front row, helping you to keep your nerves in check

and after the show, when you’d gathered your results and found out that you had passed your exam, you ran out to tell Minseok before anyone else - you couldn’t think of anyone you’d rather tell first

he had hugged you so tightly when you had told him, cheering loudly for you, making you weak at the knees, telling you that this was it - you had the biggest crush for Minseok

(bye this gif of minseok is so cute i love him so much byE)

Kim Junmyeon // Suho

you were dreading the party that you neighbourhood had thrown for the Winter Olympics because to be frank, the majority of your neighbours were really young and annoying kids

and you could think of a thousand things you’d rather be doing rather than tending to a bunch of whining kids

the only thing honestly keeping you sane was the fact that Junmyeon would be there, cracking his awful jokes and being his usual self

and you may or may not have made an effort to look extra nice because of him

your mum had baked more pies and as a consequence you were balancing two bags of pies and cakes on your arms to carry

but your knight in shining armour and a goofy smile came to the rescue, darting up his garden to take a bag from you and carry it to the party whilst both of your mothers chatted behind you

for the whole of the party Junmyeon stuck with you, still fairly new to the neighbourhood and not knowing everyone yet

but when he was introduced to the kids, and they all wanted him to play hide and seek with them, your heart just did the thing and you knew that Junmyeon was the only one who could make you feel so giddy and happy

(heheh winter olympics junmyeon i’d been waiting so long to use this gif l m a o)

Zhang Yixing // Lay

if you were being honest with yourself, you could imagine a thousand other places you’d rather be than at your little brother’s birthday party

it was a sport themed party, in which you were being forced to act as a marshall and stop any kids from killing each other

you’d been hanging out in the back of the foyer, watching all of the kids show up to the sports club and taking any gifts for your brother off of them

you had expected a lot of screaming kids, but you hadn’t imagined Yixing showing up with a little boy clinging to his leg

he recognised you at first, taking the gift for your brother from his little brother and coming over to hand it to you personally himself

“I guess fate just keeps bringing us together, eh?”

you burst into laughter at this, hating that he could reduce you to humour so quickly and with such little effort, but knowing in the back of your mind that he was the only person that could do so

and when he said that he’d stay to help and keep you sane, you were completely weak at the knees for him

(rip yixing stans but i had to)

Byun Baekhyun

recently you had been feeling extremely under the weather with stress from school, and generally being ill

so you hadn’t been able to get out of the house to walk your dog like you usually would

and as a result, Baekhyun hadn’t seen you in a solid two weeks, and whilst you messaged pretty much 24/7, he missed your face to face chats

so one Sunday morning he took it upon himself to bring you some flowers, your favourite dessert, and walk over to your house

your dog must have seen him coming through the window as he practically exploded with excitement

you hadn’t actually anticipated Baekhyun showing up at the door, seeing as you was wearing a grandma cardigan, messy hair and bare face

yet Baekhyun hadn’t cared about that as you opened the door and he’d held out the flowers, telling you how he figured you could do with some cheering up

and it was right there on your doorstep that you realised how much you liked Baekhyun, for being such a caring and thoughtful person

Kim Jongdae // Chen

Chen and you had been practically inseparable since the first time you babysat his little sisters

Disney marathons all the time

And cute hangouts at the cinema or coffee shops, but you were too scared to call them dates because you wasn’t sure how you felt, as well as Chen

But when he had bounced into your garden one afternoon and asked you to come along to his little sisters birthday you couldn’t help but squeal

He insisted that they were the ones that asked for your presence but his sisters later exposed him by telling you that he asked for permission

The way he was with with all the children in the playground made your heart melt

Especially when he would come running over, carrying three kids on various shoulders, arms and legs, and would still try to pull you in for a hug

You knew that Chen was the one you wanted to spend all of your days with if it meant life would always be this happy

Park Chanyeol

The first time you realised that you liked Chanyeol had completely blown you off of your feet because you totally hadn’t seen it coming

yet here you was, a blabbering mess as Chanyeol completely stole your heart

a little boy had just walked past in the amusement park when Chanyeol and you had just come from your break, new ice cream in hand and running down his fingers as he screams with excitement

only for a bird to swoop down and take a huge bite out of the top of it, making the boy drop the rest of the cone and immediately burst into tears

before you could even react Chanyeol had jumped to the boys side and crouched down beside him, trying to cheer him up

he took the little boys hand and lead him back to the ice cream stall where he paid for a second one, and told the boy to watch his cone carefully this time

the boy hugged Chanyeol’s long legs before running off, leaving an ice cream smudge on Chanyeol’s trousers that he wasn’t too happy about

but all you could think about for the next few hours how much your heart had soared when Chanyeol had bought that little boy the second ice cream, and how much you think you loved him for it

Do Kyungsoo // D.O.

it was that dreaded time of year that was almost as bad as finals week: results day

kyungsoo had already seen you at one of your worst points so far today, when you had completely freaked out about which exam results you were going to get

but had calmly rubbed your back and hugged you until you could breathe again

and when it came to actually collecting results the two of you did it together

with him opening your results and yours his because that way neither of you would start crying immediately

both of you smashed your exams of course and kyungsoo literally picked you up and spun you around

and afterwards he got all embarrassed and shy and your heart just did the thing

and you knew that you were so desperate to hang out with him more that you would have considered flunking your exams so you could have spent more time revising together hehehe

Kim Jongin // Kai

it was jongin’s final match of the season, and if he was to succeed today, he could be offered an incredible scholarship that would be to any course at any university of his choice

so to say he was nervous was an understatement

but upon seeing your face in the crowd, he had calmed down enough to play his best performance, scoring all the goals he needed to carry his team to the winning position

you had cheered for him like mad in the audience because ?? he was incredible and you loved supporting your faves

after the match you had intentions of just walking home because you knew he would be going to a party to celebrate with all his popular friends

yet as soon as the match finished he pushed his way through the crowd to come and thank you for coming along

and as he brushed aside his popular friends and pulled you into the tightest hug, despite his sweaty skin and damp clothes, you felt your heart go mental

you’d definitely be lying to yourself if he wasn’t the sort of guy you wanted to spend all of your time with for sure

Oh Sehun

The time you first realised that you really liked Sehun as more than a friend was when he skipped work one day purely to come and take you out for lunch

You'd had a very stressful week and was at your limit, just needing to get out and do something

So he called in sick without a second thought and picked you up outside of your house

"Sehun don't you have work?" "Maybe but I also have more important things to be doing"

Would then take you on a really cute 'date' that you was sure it wasn't a date even if you wish it was

But it involved a picnic at the beach and seeing Sehun relaxing and laughing was making you light headed

Afterwards you realised it wasn't the heat that was getting to your head but rather Sehun and his unintentional flirting

And that you'd rather spend all your lunchtimes and dates with him, even if it risked him losing his job

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soldatbarnes · 6 years

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It’s Been A While [1/3]

Summary: After not seeing your friends for months you agree to attend a bowling night. You didn’t know that Lance would be there. After not seeing him in years, you’re surprised when every interaction takes a less than innocent turn.

Lance Tucker X Reader

Word Count: 2158

Warnings: Language, mentions of smut, mild sexting

A/N: I barely remember writing this… No tags since this is a reblog. The second part will contain smut.

Part One | Part Two | Part Three

You couldn’t believe you were talked into this. Standing in the middle of the crowded bowling alley searching for friends you hadn’t seen in months. Like it would help. Hope was five feet nothing, her personality altogether too big for such a tiny body. You scanned the crowd until you found Ben. Pushing through the teenagers and half-cut adults, you finally reached them.

“Hope! Hey!” you called out to her. Still unsure of how she convinced you to be here.

“There you are! Fucking took you long enough!”

“Yeah, yeah, are you guys all that showed up?”

“Tucker’s supposed to be here. Didn’t sound too excited but agreed to come. I swear you’re the only person in high school who didn’t see him as a total douche.”

“He was always nice to me in high school.” you shrugged.

“That’s because he wanted to bone you.” she rolled her eyes, and looked back at the screen in front of her.

“Who knows how long he’ll be ‘fashionably’ late. Do you just want to start without him? Get some drinks, some nachos?” Ben asked.

“Yes! Please! I’m STARVING!” your stomach growled at the same time and you were thankful that the music was loud enough that nobody could hear it.

Hope ignored you as she queued up the game. She never had to pay for anything in this town, and you suspected that she probably dropped Lance’s name as a safety net, although she would never admit it.

“Hope?”

“Huh?”

“The names.. You have Y/N, Hope, Twitchy and Fucker.”

“And?”

“And nothing.. I guess..” Ben came back with food and a round of drinks.

“Really Hope?” he asked, She placed her focus on the nachos.

“What?”

“Never mind..”

“Well, well well. There you guys are.” You would recognize that voice anywhere. Turning around you met his eyes, unashamedly looking him up and down. He always looked so damn good. His hair was perfectly styled. He was wearing dark jeans and a form fitting white tee. It hugged his torso, perfectly showing off his toned physique. Somehow his blue eyes still sparkled in the dim lighting of the bowling alley.

“Hi, Lance.” You smiled before pulling him into a hug. “Long time no see.”

“It has been a while hasn’t it Y/N.” his eyes looked you up and down. “You look good. Still dating whatshisname? I don’t see him.”

“No, no. That’s long over.” Your high school boyfriend had seemed like a dream. Turned out he was the exact opposite, and you were relieved he was no longer in the picture.

“I’d like to say sorry, but that guy was a fucking bum. You can obviously do better.” he winked and you felt your face flush.

“Are you fucking done with the low-level flirting?” Hope’s voice cut in. “We have a game to play.” she grabbed a bowling ball and handed it to you. Walking up to the lane you could feel eyes burning into you. Glancing over your shoulder sure enough, Lance’s head was tilted, obviously staring at your ass. You gave your technique a little more bend before tossing the ball into what would be the first strike of the night.

You had round, after round, after round of drinks with Hope. Ben and Lance only had one or two, as they were driving for the evening. When it came down to leaving, Ben loaded Hope into their car and said goodnight, before Lance practically dragged you to his, insisting that you couldn’t drive. He was probably right.

It was a quiet drive to your place. Your drunk mind filled with filthy thoughts of what you’d like to do to the man sitting next to you. You would be shocked at yourself but you figured it was an alcohol infused haze that you would snap out of come morning. It didn’t help that he smelled amazing. He dropped you off and insisted that you exchange numbers before he would leave. You gave him your number, thanked him for getting you home safely and entered your home more than ready to get to sleep.

Right before you fell asleep however, you heard your phone ding from beside your bed. Rolling over you saw it was from an unfamiliar number.

Y/N, it was great seeing you again! Maybe we could hang out sometime? Catch up? Let me know. -LT

You smiled in spite of yourself, vowing to only message him in the morning when you could think straight, and when your sinful thoughts had hopefully left your mind.

You woke up the next day feeling right as rain. You always remembered to eat while drinking and also to drink water before bed. A hangover was never something you wanted and so you made sure to take responsibility for your actions. Stretching, you picked up your phone and remembered last night.

Lance had been so good with you. You knew that him messaging you was probably all sex-related, but you couldn’t help but smile at the message. You typed out a quick reply that ‘of course, it was great seeing you too’ before carrying on with your day.

Halfway through the day you got a call from Hope asking if you wanted to meet her and Ben at a local coffee shop. You agreed, thinking it would be good to get out of the house. When you arrived to the coffee shop you were surprised to see Lance also sitting at the table along side your friends.

“There you are! Did you fucking get lost? What took you so long?” Hope questioned as you slid into the seat across from her and Ben, beside Lance.

“I’m sorry, I left work late and there was traffic..” You stared down at the spot left for you. There was a brownie and a London Fog tea latte sitting there waiting. You looked up, confused.

“Oh, I remembered that’s what you always ordered in High School.” Lance spoke. “I hope it’s still the same!” He chuckled.

“It is. My favourite. How did you know?” You never actually ever sat for coffee with him before now.

“Oh, through the grapevine.” He looked confident as ever. You found that you couldn’t look him in the eye. Every time you did heat pooled in your stomach and you felt a stirring in your core that you hadn’t experienced in some time.

“Is that so?” You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth and looked up at him through your eyelashes. He visibly gulped.

“Yeah.” was the only word he got out before Hope took over the conversation. Lance had always been a touch overly friendly with you and for some reason seeing him after all of this time had sparked something in you. You reached out and took a piece of the brownie, popping it into your mouth as Hope drawled on about something that happened at the gym that day. After swallowing the bite you took your thumb to your lips and sucked the excess chocolate off, letting your thumb go with a ‘pop’.

Lance’s eyes were glued to you the whole time. Piece after piece you repeated the same actions. After the last bite of the brownie you let out an audible moan and watched from your peripheral vision as he shifted in his seat.

“Oh my fuck Y/N when was the last time you treated yourself? I’ve never seen anybody down a brownie like that. Jesus.” Hope said. “I sure as shit hope that you were listening to me that whole time.”

“I was Hope, I promise. I just haven’t tasted anything so sweet in a while.” you responded, slowly licking your lips. Lance shifted again in his seat beside you.

“Well, we should really get going. Got a lot of lessons on the books tomorrow.” Ben spoke up, trying to avoid the sexual tension that was becoming more and more evident in the room. The couple left rather abruptly and Lance offered to walk you to your car.

You let him walk with you and turned to look at him once you got to the car. He was standing closer than you expected, eyes boring into you.

“It’s been really great catching up with you Lance! I don’t know if I ever said it, but seriously congrats on your medals.That’s amazing. I know you know it, but you’re an amazing athlete. Your dedication is astounding.”

“Thank you. That means a lot. Really. I know we weren’t super close in school, but I always respected your opinion.” You smiled at his words. Part of you expected he was just lying because he wanted something from you. Part of you didn’t care. He looked fucking amazing standing under the moonlight, bent slightly over your smaller frame. Blue eyes shining. His hair wasn’t perfectly styled tonight, it was slightly loose, framing his face, but not too wild, tamed after years of being gelled into place. You stared at one another for a moment before he began to lean in.

When his lips touched yours electricity ran through your veins. The kiss was rough and needy. You knew it was partly from your teasing for the last few hours. His lips were soft and moved against yours in a way that you’ve never felt before. It was as if he knew your next move before you did. He pulled you further into his grasp, leaning both of you against the side of your car. When he slightly ground his hips into yours you gasped, and he slipped his expert tongue into your mouth. He dragged your bottom lip between his teeth, eyes making contact with yours before pulling back slightly to catch some air.

You both stood staring at one another, for what seemed like eternity. Chests heaving, eyes never leaving each other. Nobody moved. Nobody spoke. You reached out to grab his shirt at the same time he reached for your hair. His lips met yours again in a fury. You let out an unintentional moan when you felt his hard length move against your core as he pressed his body further into yours, need evident.

Before it could go any further you were startled by the sound of your phone.

“Don’t answer it.” he said, breathlessly, wanting the moment to continue and not stop.

“It’s my Mom, I have to.” you responded, suddenly hating that you lived at home and were constantly treated like a child. He let you go and pulled back, trying to straighten himself out and even his breath. “Sorry, Lance. I have to go. my Mom- she’s uh..”

“I get it. You still live at home. You have responsibilities.” he nodded, looking like he was trying to convince himself over me.

“I would really like to continue this another day.” You curled your hand around his neck and brought his lips to yours once more. His hands immediately went to your hips and he was kissing you back like his life depended on it. You pulled away, opening your car door. He waved to you, slightly in a daze, and you drove away, wishing the night had ended differently.

When you got home you jumped into a nice cool shower, hoping to bring your temperature down a little bit. Lance had inspired a spike in body heat and it wasn’t going down unsatisfied. You were content in the shower, using your phone as a radio when you heard a ding. Leaning out of the shower you saw that it was Lance who was messaging you, again.

I’m.. I can’t believe tonight Y/N. It wasn’t my intention, but Fuck.. You’re amazing.

You’re not too bad yourself ;)

What are you doing right now? Can you get away?

I’m in the shower. I can’t go anywhere right now. And as much as I’d like to,..

You’re in the shower?

Yes, so I can’t keep texting! I’m getting water everywhere!

…So you’re all wet then?

In more ways than one ;)

Your phone started ringing. You thought that last text was a little risky, not usually being so straightforward, but the phone rang three times before a string of texts came in. You finished up your shower before settling in bed to read the messages.

Answer your phone, you’re killing me.

Y/N.

Fucking tease.

I’m picking you up tomorrow night. 8pm. We’re going to have a little chat.

Is that fine?

What could you possibly be doing that you can’t send me a fucking ‘k’ or something back?

Sorry Tuck.. my hands were a little busy.. tomorrow night. 8pm. Gotcha. I’ll be ready.

Busy doing what?

Y/N!

Oh my fucking god..

He tried calling you one more time before he gave up. Teasing him was far too easy. You couldn’t wait to see what was in store for you tomorrow. Thinking about him made your core ache. Oh the things you heard he could do…

Part Two

#lance tucker x reader #lance tucker #lance x reader #lance tucker oneshot #lance tucker fic #the bronze #lance tucker smut #sebastian stan

566 notes · View notes

whottheactualfudge · 6 years

Text

kiss

pairing — kwon soonyoung / hoshi (svt) | reader

genre — friends to lovers | fluff | non-idol au

warning — drinking (of age) + a lot of kissing

word count — 3892

summary — moving into a new apartment wasn’t the only thing that was going to change for you

The night was only beginning as your two friends waltzed into your living room, shouting to announce their arrival in your new apartment.

“Y/N!” one of your closest friends, (F/N (friend’s name)), yelled.

“In here!” you responded from a nearby room, poking your head out to smile at them before hurrying out to greet them swiftly. “Sorry, I’m almost done.” You knew that many more people were about to arrive, so you air-kissed them quickly and ran back to your room.

Looking at yourself in the mirror, you sighed, seeing that your makeup still needed a little bit of adjusting, as well as your hair.

"Ahh Y/N, you have to relax," your male friend, Soonyoung, commented. "It's just a party. You've had them before."

"But I'm super late —"

"You're not late at all!" He interrupted, smiling, but shaking his head. "No one's here yet."

You let out a groan, beginning to curl your lashes. "That doesn't mean that I'm not late!"

"Soonyoung’s right," F/N said as she stood to your left and looked at you in the mirror. "Chill. It'll be great."

"Easy for you to say," you retorted, applying mascara. "You're ready." A smile stretched across your face when you glanced at her for a brief moment. "You look great, by the way. I love your hair."

She grinned before lightly punching you in the shoulder. "Thank you! It took about two hours!"

To your right, Soonyoung grumbled and rolled his eyes. "Yes, yes, you both look good and it takes you both forever to get ready; we get it."

"Shut up." You scoffed, adding finishing touches to your hair as you looked at him. "Besides...you also look good, Soonyoung."

"Ha, I always look good." He joked, doing a hair flip that didn't exactly work since he had short hair.

“I think it’s great that you’re having this party,” F/N mentioned before you could sarcastically reply to Soonyoung. “It’s the best way to announce, ‘this is my new home. Come on over and trash it whenever you want to’.”

It was your turn to roll your eyes. “It’s a housewarming party, F/N. It’s not like you guys were gonna throw one for me.”

“If you had asked, we would have!” Soonyoung countered, overreacting offense.

“Whatever.” You said. “Let’s just clear the boxes before anyone else shows up. There’s room in the back.”

Without a word, F/N walked out of the room. You started to follow when Soonyoung abruptly stopped you by putting his arm around your waist. He looked at you and smirked, flirtatiously raising a brow.

With a nervous chuckle and a slight shake of your head, you curiously looked into his brown eyes. He had been acting quite strange recently; flirting with you a lot and doing a lot of things he never did at first. You were giggly and full of butterflies whenever he did so, therefore it wasn’t much of a problem — but, you couldn’t help but feel like it was a bit odd, and wonder, why now, after 3 years of knowing you and being a close friend to you?

A part of you didn’t like it since that part of you worried that he was only doing it for a reason you hated to admit to yourself.

(Just. Sex.)

“What?” you smiled, feeling a blush creep into your cheeks.

“Are you going to wear heels tonight?” he questioned, removing his hold off your waist.

“Most probably…why?”

“Argh,” he threw his head back as he groaned. “Nothing, nothing…just don’t wear anything that would hurt your feet. Whenever you wore heels somewhere, you always end up taking them off. Do I need to remind you?”

“Soonyoung, that would only happen after hours upon hours of walking. This is my apartment; I think I can manage to walk around in here as much as I want to without feeling the need to remove them.”

He seemed unconvinced. “Are you going to get incredibly drunk?”

For some reason, the question bothered you. “No, not tonight; I’ve got early plans tomorrow.” You answered with a frown, and he took notice.

“All right,” Soonyoung nodded. Looking away, he rubbed the back of his neck. “Sorry for all the questions. It’s a new neighborhood…”

A part of you felt like it was an excuse for something you couldn’t quite understand, but you let it go. “It’s fine, Soonyoung. I appreciate it.”

Looking up, he smiled at you unevenly, and you couldn’t help but return it.

“…D-did I tell you that you look beautiful?” he murmured, clearly nervous as he inched closer to you, making you take a step back.

“I think so,” your smile almost faded as your blush deepened; a part of you held your ground while another part wanted to back off. You weren’t exactly sure which part of you was louder – or rather, which was the right one to listen to.

“Am I third-wheeling here?” F/N exclaimed from behind Soonyoung, carrying plastic plates and cups in both of her hands.

Soonyoung visibly jolted and looked over his shoulder at her, but didn’t say a word.

“N-no, no, sorry, F/N,” you stuttered, walking past Soonyoung and joining her. “He just wanted to discuss something about the apartment.”

“OK, good. Let’s get started, then.”

✧ ✧ ✧

Finally, the party had come to an end.

The apartment felt warm and smaller than it actually was, and you felt comfortable; as though you had been living here for an entire semester already.

“I’ll see you next week!” you called out after your last guest departed your new home. “Bye!”

You closed the door and leaned against it briefly before striding over to your couch, dropping onto it with a smile on your face. You weren’t sleepy, but you were tired, and you couldn’t wait to go to bed.

Scratch that — you didn’t want to go to bed; you barely wanted to move. You pulled the blanket on the couch over your legs and let out a deep sigh, letting go of the stress that had been sitting on your shoulders the entire night.

“Aaaand done!” Soonyoung appeared to your right, clapping his hands together as though he had just finished building something. You faintly jumped at his exclamation, thinking that you were alone in the flat until he showed up. “Your apartment is now as clean as it can be, after its first party. Congrats! It has been deflowered.” He snickered at his silly joke.

You groaned as you sank further into your couch, kicking off your heels and putting your legs up. “Thank you so much, Soonyoung. You’re a godsend.”

“So I’ve been told,” he shrugged, joining you on the sofa and placing the blanket over himself as well. A couple seconds passed before he turned to you and asked, timidly, “Do you mind if I…?”

He meant to put his arm around you as he gestured to your shoulders. His slightly uneven jawline made his small, unintentional pout even cuter than it already was.

Without hesitation, you replied with, “No! Of course not; why would I? I mean, not from you, at least.”

Chuckling, he placed his arm around you as you leaned onto him and located your head on his chest, wondering whether or not you could put your arm around his waist this time. You kept thinking of asking him, but the words never came out, and you didn’t know if it were because you were tired, or shy.

Endless thoughts began to race through your head; it was the first time you and Soonyoung did something like this. Suddenly, he asked, “What are we watching?” interrupting your train of thought.

“Flip through the channels.” You smiled, when in fact you weren’t even remotely focused on what was on the TV ahead of the both of you.

What did this mean, if it meant anything at all? You wondered, somewhat anxious. Has Soonyoung liked me the entire time we were friends, or is it something recent? Does he even like me at all, or is he just being really nice? Are we going to start dating now? Or is this some sort of ‘sign’ of extreme friend-zoning me…? Like when girls are extra touchy with their gay best friends?

You never thought of Soonyoung in that way; there were a few times when the thought would cross your mind, but you never actually – seriously – considered it. And at that moment, you asked yourself, why didn’t I?

The notion intrigued you, in a way. Your train of thought returned, bringing forth endless scenarios as you recalled all the times you spent with him. It’s not like you two had been close friends since childhood – no; you two met and became close right before the two of you graduated from high school. Speaking to him and spending time with him was the highlight of your days, especially since he could always find ways to make you laugh.

Still — there was a lot to go on.

You questioned every move he made. And then began to question yourself. This was what you had in mind as the minutes passed:

Dating Soonyoung PROS:

• He’s so!!! cute!!!!!!!! But also sexy?

• SO talented. I could listen to him singing forever

• Always making me laugh. Hilarious

• Is my closest friend!! <3 thankfully. I’m so lucky to have met him

• One of the BEST people I know. Seriously. So open-minded and accepting.

• Supportive and encouraging. Wouldn’t have done so many things if it weren’t for him

Dating Soonyoung CONS:

• Can be obnoxious and mean. It hurts me, sometimes

• Will totally make F/N the third wheel – which is the worst thing!

• Is my closest friend…

• So…it might ruin the friendship if it doesn’t work out. Maybe there’s a way to avoid ruining it?

• Often childish (((((not immature))))) but still annoying in a way

• Not always available…busy. So many times when I wanted to talk to him, he was busy

“Closest friend” ended up being on both lists since you didn’t know if it were an actual con or a pro. Talking to him about what’s been going on in your life was the only stress reliever you knew you needed – there were not many people you could open up to the same way you opened up to Soonyoung, excluding F/N, since you could tell her anything.

Still; with Soonyoung, it was different.

Maybe deep down, I always knew there was something more, you thought.

“Aw hell yeah!” he abruptly exclaimed as he adjusted himself on the couch beside you, which resulted in his hand finding its way to your waist — again. “I love this movie. I hope you don’t mind me restarting it.”

“No, go ahead.” You looked at the TV but your mind was elsewhere; mostly, you were focused on him. The sound of his voice and his steady heartbeat, the way you shifted when he laughed, and the way his thumb was rubbing your elbow and his fingers clenching around your clothes – like he wanted something a bit more.

✧ ✧ ✧

“Psst, Y/N. Wake up. It’s almost 3:30. I gotta go.”

You felt a soft tap on your cheek as Soonyoung gently shook you to consciousness. “Why are you still here…so late?” you asked, slowly lifting yourself off of him and faintly opening your eyes, looking at him. Even though you had just woken up, you immediately took note of your arm around him. “And why did you let me fall asleep?”

“I was watching the movie,” he said, as-a-matter-of-factly. “And…I couldn’t wake you. Not right away. You deserved to sleep – even if it were just for a little bit – after such a busy day.”

You sighed, feeling yourself cave in from his thoughtfulness. “You’re so sweet, Soonyoung. Thank you.”

He chuckled, removing his arm from around you as he glanced away briefly, and then looking at you again. It was quiet; you watched his eyes dart from your own, your lips and your surroundings. For a moment, it appeared as though he wanted to say something, but nothing came out of his mouth.

It felt like the both of you were slowly inching closer to each other. You watched as his eyes began to close —

And then, it happened. Your nerves took over, making your heart pound and your insides shake.

You didn’t know who exactly initiated it, or who leaned in first; all you knew was that…it felt so wonderful. It felt like something you had been wanting for the longest time, and now, you finally have it; like a breath of fresh air after being stuck in a closed-off room for hours.

When the kiss was over, it was silent again. Soonyoung’s cheeks were visibly pink as he gazed at you, only inches away from your face; the tips of your noses still touching, along with your lips. He said your name, but you only hummed a response.

You breathed in his scent as your eyes closed once more, enclosing the space that separated the two of you. Placing your hand on his neck, your fingers entwined with the tips of his hair as you continued to kiss – slowly, as though you had all the time in the world, as though you two had been in love for the longest time and the truth had finally revealed itself. In a peculiar way, you felt liberated.

He’s kissing me back, you thought. For the second time. It must mean something, right? He didn’t reject me, after all. Didn’t change the subject. Didn’t awkwardly move away or dig up an excuse to leave. Could this be the beginning of something new between us?

His hand roamed your back as his other hand ran up your thigh, delicately pulling you closer. You took notice of the way he was kissing you; like it was something he had always wanted to do as well, breathing you in and gripping you close, wrapping his arms around you tightly.

And you did the same: stayed as near to him as you could be, your fingers in his hair and your hand on his neck, unable to detach yourself from him as you fell for the way he moved and the way he smelled.

He took one deep breath before reluctantly parting from you, however still placing small kisses on and around your lips.

“U...um…” he breathed, leaning on his shoulder as he watched you through tired eyes. You separated, becoming two individual beings once more. “I should get going.” He continued, rubbing his eyes before ruffling up his hair. He looked down at where his hands were now resting on his lap, and glanced up at you again. For some reason, you felt as though he were upset.

He didn’t say anything. He just looked at you, and smiled softly before turning and standing. “Sorry if I kept you up.”

“No, Soonyoung,” you peeped and then cleared your throat. “You didn’t…what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he sighed, disheveling his hair again and shaking his head, looking at the front door as if he wanted to leave right then and there. “I just…I thought it would be different. I wanted it to be different.”

You blinked. “…Different?”

Had he been planning something…? And how long was he planning it for?

“Yeah,” he admitted, glancing at you. “A bit more…romantic, I hoped. Not after a party…”

“Romantic?”

“Yes.” He sighed heavily, plopping back down onto the couch and rubbing his face. It looked as though he were preparing himself to say something. “I’ve…” he was staring at his hands, playing around with his fingers, looking for the right words to say. “I kind of…really enjoy being around you…and… maybe, like you, in a way, so I wanted to confess differently. Do things a bit differently.”

You couldn’t say anything, especially when he looked at you. You didn’t know what exactly was going to happen after the kiss, but things were abruptly clearer to you, and in your head, you kept telling yourself, I should have thought about it more; about what would happen once the kiss was over.

“It’s okay…” you managed to say, not entirely sure that you, yourself, believed in it. “These things usually happen when you least expect them to. I think that makes it romantic, in a way, too.”

He looked tense. “…And?”

“And…? And what?”

“What do you think?” he looked at you, back at his hands, and back at you, continuously, nervously. “Do you like me…?”

Only a part of you knew the answer to that, but at the same time, you weren’t sure. Still, you felt the need to reassure him. “I mean…I kissed you, didn’t I?”

I do like Soonyoung, you told yourself. He’s my closest friend. And maybe…maybe something more, from now on. I’m certain that I like him.

“…You’re not drunk…or tipsy at all, are you?” he questioned carefully, almost seeming like he regretted the question as soon as the words left his mouth.

You chose not to complicate it. “I did drink a little bit from here and there, so I am a little tipsy, even after a nap…but I’m being honest, Soonyoung.”

At the sound of your words, he grinned. You saw the happiness reach his eyes and you wanted to do nothing more than embrace him tightly, caress his hair and continue to kiss him.

He bit his lip, holding back a laugh, still looking at his hands.

He’s so cute.

“Okay…” nodding slowly, he chuckled, appearing relieved. “Okay, then. It’s not exactly what I had in mind…but I’m okay with this.” He turned to you and smiled, making you blush and smile in return. “I’ll come back later, okay Y/N?”

“Where are you going?” you snickered, unable to stop smiling. It was unexpected, but you were happy, too; it was as if his presence made you all warm and fuzzy, for the first time.

He must’ve seen the sad look in your eyes since he started talking faster – but he also laughed. “Not-not because I don’t want to stay…I want to, I really do, but I have to go. I have an early shift tomorrow and it’s almost 4 AM…my shift starts at 8.”

“I like you, Soonyoung.” You blurted, not thinking about it. Your confession caused his eyes to momentarily widen. “I really do.”

“I like you, too, Y/N. I like you a lot.” He was stopping his mouth from stretching out into a smile by pressing his lips together and leaning towards you to place a soft kiss on your cheek. As soon as his lips left your cheek, he started to giggle impatiently. “I can’t believe it.”

“Yeah,” you grinned, half confused, half excited. “Me neither. But I’ll see you later…right?”

“Of course,” he beamed widely, standing up and gathering his things. Clearly, he couldn’t control his facial expressions anymore. “Call me before you come to visit, okay Y/N?”

It was a dopey smile that drew you into him a lot more – more than you thought was ever possible, with Soonyoung. The fact that the feelings you were feeling were directed towards him was strange and new, but utterly thrilling.

I can’t wait to see him again, you thought, genuinely feeling that way.

“I will.” You smiled back, abruptly feeling lightheaded as you turned off the TV and went back into a lying position on the couch, closing your eyes. I guess I’m still tired and sleepy. “I’ll…I’ll call you later, Soonyoung.”

He let out a loud groan and suddenly, his arms were under you. “You don’t expect me to leave and let you just sleep out here, do you?”

Before you knew it, you were off the couch and airborne as he carried you into your room. Giggling, you put your arms around him, feeling his fast heartbeat against you, making you blush. You reached up to kiss him, which he didn’t return since it took him by surprise.

But to you, it already started to feel natural, as though it was something you were supposed to do and something you should’ve been doing for a long time.

“One, two,” he counted, still grinning from ear to ear as he placed you down on the bed and began covering you up with the blankets. “Stay warm and sleep well.”

You hummed, looking up at him with a sheepish smile. He turned to leave, but you stopped him. “Wait. Why don’t you stay the night?”

“You want me to sleep over?” he hesitated, already standing near the entrance to your bedroom.

“Why not? It wouldn’t be the first time you do.”

“I told you…as much as I’d love to stay over, Y/N, I have to go in early tomorrow,” he explained, slowly striding in your direction. “I don’t think it’ll work out tonight.”

You didn’t want to force him, even though, if you had, it also wouldn’t be the first time. Still, you groaned and rolled your eyes. “Okay, I guess…just…”

“What?” he chuckled, stroking your cheek. “It’s only a few hours.” He joked.

“Not that, Soonyoung. It’s just that…I have one key. If you leave and lock the door, taking my key, I’ll be locked up in my apartment.” It wasn’t a lie, but it was definitely the perfect excuse to have him sleep over — or so you thought, at least.

“Ha-ha, you’re cute.” He shook his head. “You’re forgetting that you already gifted F/N and I extra keys to your new place?”

Your eyes widened, and then you sighed as the memory hit you in the face. “…I remember.”

Dammit.

“Y/N, I’ll see you tomorrow, all right?” he said, giving you a kiss on the cheek and turning away again.

You whined, intentionally. “Soonyoung…”

He rotated back to face you, throwing his hands up in confusion before understanding what you wanted.

“If I had known you felt so strongly about me…” he teased, leaning down to you once more. “I would’ve planned for this more carefully.”

“Shut up,” you grumbled, putting your arms around his shoulders and pulling him closer for another kiss. It resulted in him sitting on the bed, trying not to fall over when he was standing.

I could kiss him for hours…

“I’m not staying over,” he breathed heavily once he forced himself out of the kiss, pushing his hair back as he sat up. “You can’t make me.” But you both knew that that was a lie.

“Fine,” you gave in, rolling your eyes. “It was worth a shot.”

He groaned. “How do you expect me to leave like this?”

“Hey,” you shrugged. “It’s not my fault.” A giggle escaped your lips, and Soonyoung perceptibly clenched his teeth.

“I’ll get you tomorrow,” he warned, pointing a finger at you as he stood up and hurried towards the door. “Same time and place, yeah?”

Nodding, you couldn’t stop yourself from laughing. “Yeah, same time and place.”

Once again, he shook his head, and finally waved a goodbye. “Goodnight, Y/N!”

“Goodnight.” You smiled, watching him vanish in a flash. “Soonyoung.”

You hummed to yourself, repeating his name and attaching a cringe-worthy nickname after it, such as ‘gumdrop’ or ‘cupcake’, smiling and laughing yourself to sleep as though he were still in the room.

And, for the first time in a long time, you felt like you were going to explode from happiness.

I can’t wait…to see him again.

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