#all my clothes hang off me and i feel very unattractive

[writer-by-the-sea]

Can I ask for a gender neutral drabble request about farmer feeling insecure and asking Elliott if he thinks they’re sexy and he admits to thinking about them when he touches himself? 🥺

“Have you ever just felt so unattractive that you don’t even think a turtle would be interested in you?”

Elliot startled beside me, I forgot that we hadn’t spoken in a few minutes… Or was it more than an hour now? I wasn’t sure. We would often hang out at the beach together after Elliott finished his yoga for the day. I’ve even joined him a few times, but honestly I stretch enough getting eggs out from under the chickens little bums that I couldn’t bare to do one more damn ‘triangle downward pose’ even if I wanted to.

“In your defense,” Elliot began. “I don’t believe turtles can be sexually attracted to humans.”

I snorted. Of course he would reply with the facts. And it was a silly question to begin with, the man looked like a bronze god sitting next to me. Shirtless and wearing those god damn red shorts that have me drooling in my sleep. “Never mind,” I replied with a laugh. “It was a dumb question—“

“No, it wasn’t.” Elliott’s voice was firm as he stared at me, his frown actually making me feel bad for even asking. “And, for the record, you’re very good looking.”

Um.

What?

I said nothing and just stared back at him, his eyes soft and caring as he gazed back at me. He had a single elbow propped on his knee, smiling now as he watched me— waiting for me to say something, anything in reply.

“I think about you,” Elliot said before I could manage to mumble out literally anything. “As in, when I’m in bed, or in the shower…” He paused, pressing his lips together as he thought to himself. “In the bathroom at the pub once, it was the day you walked in after being at the mines and the monsters tore half your clothes off...”

Hang on.

WHAT.

I held my hand up, stopping him from continuing and shook my head as I tried to process what the hell he was saying. He thought of me? In the shower? In bed? At the pub? What the hell did that even mean—

“I cum so easily when I think of you.”

Well there’s my answer.

Elliott was so relaxed as he spoke, shrugging after he just dropped a bomb on me as if it was nothing at all. “You’re very good looking, I never saw myself fantasying about the only farmer in town. However, it’s become a daily event now.”

“Elliott,” I paused. How does one even reply to this? Sure, the question I asked may have been a been asinine— but! To reply, and to reply so causally. “Ar you— are you saying to jerk off to me?”

“Everyday, yes.”

I dropped myself into the sand, uncaring anymore about the hot sand as it burned the back of my neck and arms, my hair was going to be a real bitch to wash later but I couldn’t even think about that right now. Elliott, the hottest guy in town, who writes poems and short stories with ease, who does yoga on the beach, who laughs with me at Gus’ pub, who is actually a dork that’s obsessed with Star Wars—

Jerks off to me.

Every. Single. Day.

Elliott laid down beside me on his side, worry painted all over his gorgeous face. “Farmer? Do you want me to stop?”

I laughed, just amazed at the entire situation. “No, you don’t… no.”

“Thank goodness,” Elliot said with a sigh and rolled to his back. “I don’t think I would have been able to stop. Especially after today.”

“Elliott,” I said and sat up, looking down at him with narrowed eyes. “What on earth would have happened today that would make it any harder to stop?”

“Well—“

I gestured down to myself. “I stink like chickens, my jeans were so beat up I cut them into shorts, I’m wearing an old hole filled white tank top— none of this,” I took a beat to gesture to myself one again. “Would give you the material needed to jerk off to.”

“Your shirt is absolutely soaked from the swim you took earlier, I can see your nipples.”

….

I looked down and groaned. “Elliot!”

“They’re very sexy nipples.”

And I could die.

[dangermousie]

This scene is both very telling in light of what happens later and a logical continuation of earlier scenes and just honestly a great example of how good the writing is.

Here he is freaking out about her leaving and her reaction is walls. I think the reason she puts up such high walls is because she cares so she has to, because caring and then losing would be insupportable pain. In a lot of ways, FL is all emotional extremes.

I think this is actually something that runs through the whole episode - he wants to be 17 and she wants him to be 17 but he regrets he cannot and she lashes out because he cannot except by the end she accepts him as 17 because he really acts that way - he basically throws away his life and pisses off two kingdoms to help her, without knowing why she wants what she wants. There is a reason she starts calling him 17 during their trip. And when at the end of the ep he announces he’s 17 to Cang Xuan, it’s not just to avoid the issues for his family, it’s because that is also him reclaiming that identity as well.

And then later after he’s unhesitatingly helped her:

And him at the end:

His awful brother, after torturing him nearly to death and permanently disabling him in some ways, as well as humiliating him says, in that flashback:

But you know? Without his title or clothes or whatever, what you get is a pretty damn awesome man. Suck it, bro! 

To get back to the scene - it’s so interesting that he’s so open with her about how important she is but it also does not feel stalkery and pushy at all. Like - he wants her happy. And he wants to be around her. But if the two conflict, the former wins. I think the reason it does not feel pathetic is because in narratives usually we see characters become carpets because they want the other person to love them and hope their actions will. And that’s desperate in an unattractive way. But 17 does all these things because he wants to be around her, yes, but also because his motivation is for her to be happy. It’s not ulterior motive to win her heart. It’s putting her first.

You know what is amazing? He makes it clear in the beginning of the ep that this is his greatest fear.

And here he is in the end of the episode:

He does not hesitate. Because what he wants is not anything compared to what she wants. All this for a person whose reasons to escape meeting the king he does not know and who has even refused to show him her actual face when he asked despite all he did and the fact he might die for her (he lies that the army won’t dare to offend the Tushans but clearly he never planned to use the name, to protect himself. He just accepts it, not even a shadow of “but you owe me SOMETHING” there.

Anyway, to get back to the scene. One of the things I love the most is that he expresses his wishes, hangs the windchime and leaves. The choice, for 17, is always up to her. Can you imagine Cousin acting that way? The one who always knows what’s best for you, and that’s what’s best for him?

That little touch when he hangs the windchime before he leaves! I love how the running theme so much is that for 17 his affection is demonstrated in practical things: changing her sheets, washing her dishes, carrying her on his back, here bringing windchimes. This is quite a contrast from eg Vamp Boy who does some amazingly big gestures (like the bug transfer) but would probably not know how to complete a household chore if one bit him on the behind. It’s not superior or inferior, it’s just tailored to their different characters and I love that. (My inner practical self prefers the little gestures though because even a xianxia heroine is a lot less likely to need grand gestures on a daily basis than someone who takes out the trash and cooks you soup. MMV)

 I also find it so interesting that the one who’s been described as this scholar literati chess calligraphy zither blah blah upper class gentleman is the one who is not only good at that stuff (that is not particularly surprising, he’s had to learn) but defaults to this as a way to show care. The drama is pretty clear in its understated way in showing that being tortured and then shunned did a number on him, and that is one of the reasons he holds his former identity in such dislike - it was shown to be nothing - so it’s like all he has to give someone is what he can do for them. After all, whatever his name or reputation is famous or nonexistent, someone who is useful can be kept around.

[asthenolagnia]

i feel.. fuckin. weird-guilty-unattractive bc of theee way i want my body 2 look & the things i want uhmm.. done 2 it ? ugly transmasc stone bottom who might not even want 2 bottom. ITS SO WEIRD TRYING 2 DECIPHER WHAT I LIKE!! whats insecurity or inexperience & whats actual dislike. Like i am very sexual im always horny i literally always want to be pushed around by mean girls & if im teased a little bit im instantly masturbating ok. But like ..! i feel like im kind of limited — not in KINKS no way — but in sex acts im actually comfortable with or prefer ... !! ?? i prefer being clothed. i prefer ppl touching my clit or making me umh. use their thigh to get off, that kind of thing. I fantasize abt penetration but havent quite gotten the hang of it. I feel guilty for not wanting to top or dom anybody :o i am unsatisfactory. But also i just. i dont know, maybe i could ? but it just doesnt sound appealing at all, i dont have a taste for it ;; i really want to be bullied myself. i need to be taken care of. but im so selfish always always always. Why am i gross. hi. AND THEN THERES LIKE I dont know. I dont know if penetration is Actually something i Want ?? But hjkgdjkgdn ?! Dont i have to do one or the other ?? I mean not really , but . Hmmmmmmmm. idk i like the thought of it. i do think it could feel good. but thats never been..my favorite thing ? ? ?

[sunflowerslut]

Cw: weight talk

God DAMN it I weighed myself for the 1st time in 2 yrs and I'm somehow the same weight I was when I was 15 and rly anorex*c 😑 how the FUCk do I eat 2500 (net) calories a day sfshdhkflgksv

[221bshrlocked]

i. Initiation

Stirring Sensations Masterlist

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2325

Warning: lots of really inapropro thots all because of that.fucking.chain.

A/N: I’ve had a really bad week and it only got worse last night and I almost had to go to the ER but crisis averted everyone and I’m about to fuck up this presentation but I needed to write this because wow we’re all so horny for this man and that chain he wore during the D23 Expo 2019. Also, this tiktok didn’t help. There might be a second, more NSFW part. Depends on if yall like this :)

You couldn't stop staring at it. Lord knows you tried your hardest to be aware of the conversation going on but it was impossible.  It wasn't even anything special, just a shiny little chain, and yet you were absolutely hypnotized by the way it hung around his neck. Why you found it absolutely mesmerizing with that shirt you would never know but there was something about the way he carried himself around, especially today, that had you wishing you were bold enough to say something. But no, he was a friend. And he was kind enough to invite you to an after-party with his colleagues whom you still tried your hardest to act naturally around. 

But fucking hell this was hard. It kept on swinging around with every little movement he took, whether he was motioning dramatically with his hand as he explained something about one of the scenes or was simply leaning over and laughing over something Jon said. It was just...there. Taunting you. Begging for your attention. Any kind of attention. 

You kept on staring at it as you drank your wine, occasionally nodding along to pretend you weren’t imagining biting down on the chain and tasting his sweat on it as he fucked you into the mattress. It was getting difficult with every passing moment though, especially when he had to nudge you a few times to ask your opinion on something and furrowed his eyebrows when you apologized and told him to repeat his question. 

You thought you were being subtle enough but then Pedro leaned over and whispered something in your ear and you all but lost control, the sharp intake of breath making him lean away and ask if he’d done something wrong.

“N-no sorry I- god, I think I drank too much. I just need...some fresh air. Be back in a minute.” Pedro stared at you as he nodded, and you watched as his hand slipped under his shirt to scratch at his clavicle, the action forcing your eyes to the chain yet again. Before you could stop yourself, your tongue was peaking out and licking your lower lip, wishing it could lick across the shiny necklace if only for a second. Once you realized what you’d just done, you raised your eyes and met his, finding the usually umber brown eyes dilated and unforgiving in their gaze.

And then he mirrored your actions and licked his lips and you knew you needed to get away from him before you made a fool out of yourself. 

“Excuse me,” you smiled at everyone and walked to the balcony of the restaurant, finding a quiet and private spot in the corner overlooking the awfully busy street. Taking a deep breath, you shut your eyes and leaned against the wall, finally allowing your mind to give into the pathetically filthy thoughts involving Pedro’s fucking chain of all things. You thought of what it would feel like to pull on it as he kissed the air out of your lungs. Wished you could twirl it around your fingers as he licked and nipped down your neck before slipping his hands beneath your pants. Fuck, what you would give to just bite down on it, maybe lick it and his skin as he used you to get his cock off. Would he let you suck on his neck, that glorious fucking neck that was somehow always glistening and smooth and so fucking inciting? Would he moan when you tell him how sexy you found it, especially with that floral shirt? Goddamn that shirt. It was so loud and yet he pulled it off. And with those light brown pants that were positively tight and almost left nothing to the imagination...

But none of that compared to how captivating he looked with that chain. It was very rare for Pedro to look unattractive in whatever clothes his stylist picked out for him. Actually, that wasn’t true. Pedro never looked bad in anything, even if it was a worn down sweatshirt or jeans. He just always looked nice and you weren’t sure if it was because you’ve had these feelings for him for so long or if it was because he was an honest-to-god sex symbol. 

You rubbed at the base of your throat, thinking of worshiping him and kissing down his neck before he forced you down on your knees and fucked your face. And to hear that voice, that beautiful, deep, hoarse voice as he moaned and swore and growled at you as you pleasured him. What a sight he would be. 

When you took longer than he anticipated, Pedro excused himself and walked past the balcony doors, surveying the large open area and almost walking back in when he didn’t find you anywhere. But then he noticed you in the corner near the edge of the railing, tilting his head to the side when he saw how hard you were breathing. He approached you carefully, his eyes taking in the way you were rubbing at your neck and harshly you were biting down on your lower lip. 

So busy imagining the touch of his hand on your heated skin, you didn’t notice Pedro’s presence until he broke you from your haze with a concerned question.

“Are you okay?”

You jumped and grabbed at your chests when you heard Pedro, rolling your eyes when he started laughing and apologized before rubbing your arms to calm you down. 

“Jesus Christ you scared the fuck out of me. God, how many times did I tell you not to do that?” You gulped before turning to the railing, trying to calm your heart rate so he didn’t suspect anything.

“Not my fault you’re so jumpy.” You shook your head at his teasing comment, taking in a deep breath to try and forget what you were just thinking about before he interrupted you. “You were gone for a while...is everything okay? Did something happen and you don’t want to tell me?”

“W-what? No no nothing...nothing happened I promise. I just needed some air. It was getting a little intense back there. Sorry I’m just not used to being around so many, you know-” You trailed off and hoped Pedro wasn’t offended by your words because the last thing you wanted him to think was that he was bringing you to anxiety-inducing gatherings. 

Your smile faltered when you finally glanced at him, finding it near impossible to not shift your attention to the unbuttoned collar and the godforsaken inanimate object hanging around his neck. Pedro was taking in your changing expressions, trying his hardest to figure out what was going through your mind and hoping it mirrored what was going through his.

But he didn’t have to wonder for too long because all of a sudden, you were reaching up and pushing his shirt apart, and he felt his heart skip a beat when your fingers lightly trailed across the chain he was wearing. He didn’t dare to say anything, afraid you’d break out of whatever trance you were in. He hoped to whatever higher power existing out there that he wasn’t misreading the situation because he wasn’t sure how much more he needed to control himself. You continued to stare at him as you traced the outline of the cold metal, slipping your hand beneath it to touch his skin. Pedro shivered when one of your nails scratched at the hollow juncture just below his Adam’s apple and he all but lost it when feather-light touches skimmed over the cartilage moving down his throat. Your fingers descended down his throat again, and he ceased to breathe when you twirled his chain around your index finger before tilting your head to the side in interest. When you licked your lower lip and began to lean forward, Pedro couldn’t hold back anymore. 

“Fuck…” The growled expletive snapped you out of your haze and you snatched your hands away, about to start apologizing to him and begging him to pretend that you weren’t just pretty much assaulting the man in public.

Pedro regretted the way he responded to you when he saw sheer panic and fear etched on your beautiful features. He didn’t think of what he was doing as he pushed you further into the wall and cornered you between his arms. Pedro wanted to make sure you weren’t about to run away from him because now that he had you here, with a pretty good idea of what you were thinking of, he wasn’t about to let you go. 

You watched as his jaw muscles clenched tightly, unable to look away from his dark eyes as he stared down at you.

“I thought I was imagining things...the entire day. You’ve been...you kept on looking at me like...like you were- like I was-” Pedro gulped to try and contain his thoughts, not wanting to scare you by what he’s been thinking of when he caught you looking at him like you wanted to devour him. “Every time I looked at you, you would either look away or pretend you were talking to someone else. But fuck baby I didn’t think- didn’t think you’d ever...fuck. I can’t stop thinking about you sweetheart, and if I’d known that it would take me wearing this fucking chain...goddamn, I would have worn it a long time ago if it meant you’d look at me like you were imagining...that I- that we- Please...I- I...shit, are we on the same page here baby or am I completely misreading this entire situation?” Pedro stuttered through his admission and you weren’t sure if you found it cute or sexy that he was trying to hold back from telling you what he’s been thinking about. 

“Pedro-”

He wasn’t sure who leaned in first, and he couldn’t care less if he was being honest, because you were in his arms, devouring his lips and fisting your hands in his shirt as he snuck his tongue into your mouth and kissed you with every ounce of his being. You sighed into him as you felt his hand slip into your hair at the nape of your neck and pull on it. You were thankful that he had his other arm wrapped around you because you felt faint with every little moan he whispered into your mouth. Nothing could have prepared you for the intensity of his kiss. You would never tell him but watching his on-screen kisses did something to you and you always thought he would be generous with whoever he was with but this, this was something else. It was a cliché but this must have been what it felt like to watch a shooting star fly through the sky. It had to be. It was magical, intimate, and absolutely breathtaking. 

When Pedro pulled away and looked down at you, he couldn’t help but push himself flush against your heaving chest, once again swearing when he felt your shivering hands slip beneath his shirt and pull on the chain. He followed your lead and molded his lips with yours, this time more carefully and with less desperation. You smiled against him, and let out a deep breath when you felt him smile into the kiss. Pulling away from him, you rested your head on his chest and let go of his shirt, trailing your hands across his back to try and somehow pull him closer to you.

“I- I’ve been wanting to do that for a while.” His voice was soft, exuding calmness and joy. But you could hear his heartbeat and you knew he was just as nervous as you.

“Me too.” 

Pedro grabbed your shoulders and pushed you away so he could take a look at you.

“This isn’t a- I’m not...I’m all in baby. I’m all in, if- if you want to give us a shot. Please.” Silence enveloped the air around you and you looked into Pedro’s eyes, finding nothing but love and hope and happiness in them. You’d always wanted to make him happy, he deserved the world. And now that you knew you could, it was indescribable. 

“I’m yours Pedro.” 

You smiled when you noticed the familiar dimples take over his expression, sighing in relief when he pulled you against him once more and tightened his hold on you.

“Let’s get out of here.” He grabbed your hand and moved towards the restaurant. 

“What? No wait Pedro this is your day. I’m not- we could figure this out after tonight. I’m not about to ruin your night. It can wait.” Your eyes widened in surprise when he stepped towards you and grabbed your cheeks so you could look at him.

“Baby...I waited to hear you say those words for too damn long. I need to have you all to myself tonight. Please. I’m- I’m begging here. They won’t mind I promise. I just- I want you in my arms. I want to touch you and kiss every inch of you and hold you until you get tired of me. I want to whisper sweet things in your ears and show you how much I lo- how much I care about you. I want you. And I can’t wait anymore. Please hermosa.” Pedro noticed the small gasp emanating from your lips at the last nickname, and he raised an eyebrow when you turned away from him to look at something else.

“Oh, good to know.” He laughed when you narrowed your eyes at him in annoyance.

“Come home with me hermosa. Please.” He knew he had your undivided attention when you looked up at him, barely holding back from smiling because you could never refuse anything when he used that tone with you. 

“Ok.”

Pedro leaned in one last time and kissed your forehead before taking your hand and walking back inside. Well this was going to be interesting. 

[noctumbra]

unexpected relief

summary ─ he was supposed to visit the website natasha had told him, the website where he could find the knife set and maybe order one. he was sure as fuck this website standing before him wasn’t the same one that natasha had talked about. 

pairing ─ avenger!bucky barnes x camgirl!reader

warnings ─ smut, +18, cam sex, voyeriusm, dirty talk, sex toys, masturbation

a/n ─ i have been reading a lot of camboy/camgirl aus and i wanted to write my own! hope i nailed it tho fhsdjfhsf hope you like it! please let me know if you did! 

Bucky was supposed to be searching for some knife set Natasha had talked about after their briefing. He was supposed to visit the website Natasha had told him, the website where he could find the knife set and maybe order one.

He was sure as fuck this website standing before him wasn’t the same one that Natasha had talked about.

It had a dark background. Light-colored writing were telling him that whoever owned this website was a young girl who loved praises and cuddling after sex, and she was into cockwarming, gagging, bondage and light breath play and her favorite positions were legs up and reverse cowgirl.

Bucky had to look away from his laptop screen so that he wouldn’t have a heart attack and maybe come in his pants. When he looked back at the screen, there was an invitation for him.

“Wanna play?” It said, “I can show you how I play with myself if you have something for me.” The girl on the screen smiled sweetly at him, and Bucky frowned. It said that if he were to subscribe right now, it would only cost him $15. Unintentionally, Bucky let out a ‘huh’ sound. He was intrigued, though. So, Bucky went through some of the pictures that she had posted. These pictures weren’t as naughty as her description section, but Bucky figured that these pictures must have been free. He bit his lip.

He was curious.

His fingers clicked on the subscribe button. Only after a minute, Bucky had an account: yasha17. His bank account was $15 less rich, but somehow he wasn’t disturbed by such an unnecessary expense.

“Hello,” Bucky heard a girly voice and jumped on his seat. “Welcome, I hope you like what I’ll be posting for you.” Bucky watched the girl on the screen tilt her head to her side adorably. She had black lace underwear on her, complimenting her soft-looking skin very well. Her hair was loose, hanging down over her shoulders. She was beautiful, and it looked like she knew that.

The screen changed. Suddenly, Bucky had an access to all the real naughty pictures, and he was going to come in his pants if he continued to go through them. Some of them were in front of a mirror: Her legs wide open, naked as the day she was born but hastily thrown a white crop top with no bra, her fingers were inside of her pussy. The next picture was a close-up shot of the previous one: The soft light had made the slickness of her pussy visible. Bucky groaned softly.

“What the fuck,” he whispered to himself as he stumbled upon a picture of her topless. She was in front of her window, sun was setting but she caught a good light. She had no clothing on her torso, her breasts were open to those who paid to see in their beautiful glory. Bucky could swear by his Ma’s grave that he had never seen this much of a pretty pair of breasts in his life. He also could see the small metal bars attached to both of her nipples, and this time Bucky’s groan was louder.

“What the fuck,” he grunted. The next thing was a short video.

She was lying on her bed, her hair splayed over the pillows. She had a silky nightgown which she tied in front of her. She was also wearing a garter belt made from the same fabric. Bucky could see her hard nipples through the flimsy fabric. She had nothing under that nightgown, he knew it. He grunted again, deeper this time. He watched fingers move south, play with the hem of the nightgown.

Bucky almost choked on his own spit when he heard her talking filth: “I’m so wet,” she whined. “So fucking wet, the bedding is all wet, too.” A rustle happened and suddenly Bucky had a sight of her very slick pussy in front of his eyes.

“Fuck,” he groaned as he felt his cock drool. Her fingers swiped her juices over the lips of her pussy, and then dipped inside. “Fuck, yes.” Bucky couldn’t stop the soft moans and sometimes deep growls that he let out.

“Can you hear the sound of my fingers?” She whimpered. “I’m so wet for you, you could slide right in. Can you, please?” Bucky had never wrapped his hand around himself this quick before.

“Shit, shit, shit,” Bucky chanted as he squeezed the base of his cock and gave his balls the same treatment. “Fuck, so good. Mm.” His cock was oozing so much precum, Bucky didn’t even need to reach for lube. Bucky whimpered quietly as he swiped his metal thumb around his cock head. He could hear her soft whimpers and moans.

Bucky turned his eyes from his cock to the screen again. She was playing with the strings of her garter belt; she was pulling and letting them go so that they would smack her skin. Her skin looked so good, so soft, Bucky was going fucking insane. His hands were itching to touch, to grab.

“Do you wanna see…?” Bucky heard her ask and he gulped. Her fingers were now playing with her gown strings. If she were to undo the strings, Bucky would have an eyeful of her sexy body. He groaned.

“Yes,” he muttered to himself, heartbroken to know that she couldn’t hear him. “Please, fuck, please.” She smiled like she could hear him, and her fingers pulled the strings free.

The silk slipped from her smooth-looking skin softly. Bucky moaned loudly, this time, because she was so fucking beautiful. Her moles and stretch marks were covering her body; her curves were gentle, begging Bucky to grab them, feel them under his hands. Her breasts had the perfect size; Bucky could fit them in his hands so easily. His eyes watered with the want of sucking those perky nipples.

“Like what you see?” She hummed. Her fingers were now playing with her nipples, just like Bucky wanted to. She squeezed them, rolled them between her fingertips and pulled on them. “Wish you were here to suck them,” she breathed. “My nipples are so sensitive. I can come just from playin’ with’em.”

Bucky was going to die before this video ended, he knew it.

She pushed the gown off her shoulders slowly. By doing that, she revealed her perfect pussy to Bucky’s pervert ones with its glory. It wasn’t partially hidden by the gown this time, and Bucky felt his balls tightening warningly.

“Fu─” He gasped, squeezing the base of his cock, Bucky tried to hold his orgasm back. “Not─ oh, shit, no, no!” He squeezed harder and felt the tightening ease off slowly. Breathing deeply, Bucky slumped back against his pillows. The sweat had gathered on his forehead, his chest was glistening with the thin layer of it, too.

“Good thing you didn’t come,” Bucky heard her voice and froze. He thought it was a previously recorded video, but apparently it wasn’t. “Otherwise we couldn’t increase the fun we’re having, right?” Bucky swallowed harshly. Could she see him? If she could, then Bucky was in deep shit. Probably. “I can’t see you, if that’s what you’re wondering. I can hear you, though.  Love your moans,” she breathed. “They’re so deep, mm, makes my pussy clench every time I hear them.”

“Oh, shit,” Bucky whispered. She smirked. Her hand snaked underneath her pillow and she pulled out a dildo. “Jesus fucking─” She chuckled darkly.

“I said we’ll be increasing the fun, remember?” She winked at him. Bucky had to avert his gaze from the screen to some very unattractive and unsexy point in his room so that he wouldn’t come. He could get hard again, probably under a minute, but this was better. Edging.  

She ran the tip of the dildo up and down her pussy for a couple times. Wetting the toy with her juices, she pressed it in. She threw her head back as she moaned while sinking the toy in. “Feels so good,” she whimpered. “So good.”

Bucky clenched his jaw. Oh, how he wanted to be the toy… Sinking into her wet heat… Feeling her walls tighten around his shaft… He’d fuck her with abandon, pounding into her and maybe fucking her one of her favorite positions. Bucky would throw her legs over his shoulders and bend her in half. He bet he could hit her sweet spot with that position.

Bucky’s cock twitched and leaked even more precum. Bucky panted harshly as he ran his hand over his tip, smearing the precum all over his cock.

“I can hear the slick sound,” she moaned. She was writhing on her bed with her dildo moving in and out of her quickly. The toy was so wet, Bucky could see it glistening every time she pulled it out. “Wish you were here,” she moaned again, “I would ride you so good!” She threw her head back as the toy brushed her sweet spot, barely surpassing her scream.

“Yeah, you would,” Bucky couldn’t stop himself. “I would make you come over and over and over again, baby, you would lose your mind.” She whined loudly.

“Yes, I want that!” The toy started to move in quicker. Her free hand was playing with her nipple.

“Show me how you’d ride my cock, c’mon,” Bucky rasped. He was so close, but determined to hold back. She moaned brokenly, but changed her position. Adjusting the toy, she sank down on it slowly. “Yeah,” Bucky growled. “Jus’ like that, move, baby.” She gasped when she started moving.

“Faster,” Bucky ordered, his voice was a harsh whisper. She complied. Holding onto her bedpost, she started to ride the toy with all her might. Bucky could see the toy disappearing in her beautiful pussy. “Fuck, baby, yes,” Bucky hissed, his thumb swiping over his cock head.

“’M close,” she whimpered. “’m so fucking close, ah!” She stopped bouncing but started to grind. Her movements were desperate, Bucky could easily see it. She kept whimpering, her moans getting louder each passing second.

“Me too,” Bucky grunted. “Come, baby,” Bucky snarled. His flesh hand was moving rapidly over his cock, his metal one was squeezing his balls rhythmically. He listened to her delicious moans, watched her writhe on the bed, watched her getting even more desperate. She ground down once, twice and she came hard. Shouting, her thighs started to tremble violently, hands grabbing wherever they could reach.

Bucky swore at the sight before him. Squeezing his balls a little tightly, he swiped his thumb under the crown of his cock and gasped. White stripes hitting the laptop screen, Bucky groaned long and loudly. He was still moving his hand on his cock, slowly and fist tight. Bucky felt his own thighs shook slightly, muscles jumping.

“Fuck,” she muttered. “I’m─” Then, she chuckled. “Gonna sound cliché but I’ve never came that hard before, holy shit.” She continued to chuckle to herself, making Bucky smile at the prospect.

“Glad I could make that happen,” Bucky murmured. The day’s exhaustion hit him suddenly as the tension in his body disappeared into the thin air. He buried himself deeper into his bed. “This was amazing,” he murmured again. She hummed approvingly.

“I’ll be here on every Saturday for you,” she purred. “At the same time.” Bucky looked at the bottom right clock at the corner. 7:30PM.

“I like that plan,” Bucky purred back. She giggled and blew him a kiss.

“Take care, Handsome. I’ll see you next week,” she winked and the screen went black.

Bucky stayed silent; his thigh muscles still jumping softly, the power of his orgasm still coursing through his veins. What just happened, he thought to himself. He just had the best orgasm he ever had in this century. He laughed at himself as he cleaned the come from both his body and the screen. After closing the laptop, Bucky placed it on his bedside drawer and buried himself under his duvet.

He fell asleep with a satisfied smile on his face.

No nightmares chased after Bucky that night.  

[prettiestvulcan]

pairing: Takemichi x f!character, ft. Mikey, Draken

rating: explicit (minors DNI)

wc: 1455

summary: what are friends for, besides sharing your girlfriend with

warnings/tags: unprotected sex, praise, crying during sex

a/n: all characters are aged up (18+).

She’s used to being the focus of Mikey and Draken’s attentions. They’ve been doing their thing for years, so she’s quite comfortable with either man. Or both, as they’d often have it. So when Mikey suggests they try something new, she eagerly agrees. She trusts them.

Her trust has never been misplaced, either. They’ve always been there for her, ever since they met as teenagers. Before the three of them got together, they’d protect her from unwanted attention. They’d take her shopping, to festivals, and to dinner. So yes, she trusts Mikey to not break that trust.

What he does, however, is pushing the boundaries of her trust.

“Come on,” he urges Takemitchy. “She’s all yours.”

She pouts, arms crossed. She agreed to something new, not someone new. So when they’d told her to undress, that they’d be right back, she had done as asked. She had stripped out of her clothes, sitting naked and impatient on the edge of the bed. Then Mikey had brought Takemitchy in, beet-red and stuttering.

“He’s a virgin,” Mikey explains. “You’re good at taking care of others.”

She should feel offended, but instead her heart flutters and her face warms. She juts her lower lip out, turning her nose up. She doesn’t want to do anything with Takemitchy. Besides, isn’t he seeing Hina?

“Come on,” Mikey coos, thumb gliding across her bottom lip. “Be a good girl for us. We want to see.”

Her determination wavers as she peers at Mikey. She tries to see where the lie is, to find the joke. But he appears to be completely serious. She looks to Draken, who has been quiet the entire exchange.

“Ken-chin wants to see it, too,” Mikey assures her. She’s stubborn, but not stubborn enough to deny them what they want.

She sighs, uncrossing her arms. She lets them drop into her lap, eyeing Takemitchy. His dark hair hangs limp around his head, unlike the blonde coif he wore when they were in middle school. He’s not unattractive, but she’s never really thought about him like that.

It’s always been her and Mikey and Draken.

“Takemitchy,” she simpers. “Don’t keep me waiting.”

Draken pushes him and he stumbles forward, right into her waiting arms. She presses his face into her breasts, stroking his hair. He stutters, arms flailing, like he doesn’t know where to put them.

“Wrap your arm around my waist,” she instructs. He hesitates a moment before doing as asked. “Good boy.” His face turns even redder and she giggles, smiling down at him. “What a good boy, listening to me like that.” She sees his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows, so she rewards him with a kiss.

It’s nothing too deep or passionate, as she wants him to get comfortable first. Just a quick kiss, so light it could even be called chaste. His arms go tight around her waist, like he can’t believe she’s kissing him, and it makes her smile. Maybe she’s never thought of him before, but he’s such a good boy. So obedient. Who wouldn’t want to just eat him up?

Once he starts to lean into the kiss, she deepens it. She parts her lips, pressing harder against his mouth. He makes a muffled sort of noise, but doesn’t pull away. She takes it as permission to continue. She swipes her tongue against his bottom lip and he parts them on a gasp, allowing her access to his mouth.

His hands grip her shirt and she opens her eyes, curious as to what he looks like. Already, he looks so fucked out. Cheeks flushed, hair a mess. She pulls away from their kiss, just to see what he does. His lips are shiny with spit and when he opens his eyes, they’re glossy and unfocused.

“Takemitchy,” she murmurs. They’re close enough that when she says his name, their lips brush. His eyes flutter closed on a groan. “Get undressed.”

She’s not used to being the one giving orders, but she has to admit that it feels good. She’s beginning to understand why Draken and Mikey like to boss her around so much. She watches as he pulls off his shirt, hesitating with his jeans. She nods, urging him on, and he slowly pulls them off too.

When he’s fully nude, he stands awkwardly in front of her. He cups his hand over his erection; whether he’s ashamed or just bashful she isn’t sure. She beckons him forward and he stumbles back towards her. She takes hold of his wrists, pulling his hands away.

He has nothing to be ashamed of. He’s not particularly long, but he’s thick. She squeezes her thighs together, just imagining how it’ll feel. She pulls him forward by his wrists, until he’s standing before her. There’s a bead of pre on the very tip, which she licks off eagerly. His knees knock together, a choked noise coming from his throat.

She looks toward Mikey and Draken, needing their permission to continue. Mikey gives her a big smile, while Draken inclines his head. She smiles, turning her attention back to Takemitchy. She’s been granted permission, so she’s going to start.

She begins by licking at the head, tongue circling, before she takes it into her mouth. She sucks lightly, tonguing the vein on the underside. She feels him start to shake, knees threatening to buckle, so she pulls off.

“Want to lay down?” She offers. He nods. She scoots aside, letting him crawl into the bed.

She waits for him to get comfortable before attacking. She leans over him, planting a sloppy kiss on his lips. He returns it eagerly, moaning into her mouth, and she dives her tongue into his waiting mouth. He whimpers, whining against her mouth, and it makes her feel powerful. Like she’s in charge.

She pulls away from him, eager for more. She moves down his body, planting kisses along the way, until she’s settled between his thighs. She takes his cock in hand, angling it towards her mouth, and places her lips just over the head. He whines, bending his legs at the knee. She giggles, but takes pity on him.

She takes him down the the base, and he jolts upright. She didn’t expect that kind of reaction, but she’d be lying if she said it wasn’t making her feel dominant. She sucks hard, pulling up to swirl her tongue around the head before diving back down.

She chances a glance up at him, his eyes wet with tears. Crybaby Hero. She remembers that was his nickname. He’s certainly a crybaby, if just this is enough to get him to tear up. She can’t even begin to imagine what his face will look like when he’s coming inside of her. If he’s even allowed that.

She pulls off, moving to straddle him. The tears in his eyes look ready to spill over. She casts a quick glance over at Mikey and Draken, but when there’s no protests, she sinks down onto Takemitchy. She’s wet enough to lubricate the way for him, but the stretch is still verging on painful. He’s a lot thicker than either Mikey or Draken.

“Hands on my hips,” she instructs once she’s bottomed out. “Tell me to stop anytime you need to.” Takemitchy nods, hands grabbing at her hips.

She moves slowly at first, but quickly gains speed. She searches for a rhythm that feels good for both of them, finding it when Takemitchy bangs his head against the pillows and opens his mouth wide. She tries to keep a steady rhythm, but the more she watches him come undone the less coordinated she becomes.

He does indeed start crying, babbling nonsense about how it feels so good and how tight she is. It’s an ego boost, but above that his praise fuels her pleasure. It’s different than Mikey’s good girl, but it has the same effect on her. She feels like she’s gushing, so close to creaming on his cock.

“Come on, Takemitchy,” she coos. She leans down to kiss his tear-stained cheeks, before moving to whisper in his ear. “I wanna feel you come inside of me.”

It doesn’t take much more than that. He throws his head back on a silent scream, fingertips digging into her flesh. She feels the hot gush of him inside of her and she doesn’t even care that she didn’t get her orgasm. It was worth it to see the look on his face.

She rolls off him, flopping onto the bed beside him. She feels the hot drip of his cum on her inner thighs, her cunt still throbbing.

“Good girl,” Mikey praises as he stands from the desk chair. “I think you deserve a reward.”

[wandsandwheezes]

Fake It | Weasley Twins | CH6

one // two // three // four // five

Warnings | 18+ SMUT, mature themes, fake relationships, secret relationships, love, sex, drama, angst, fluff, masturbation, hate sex, heartbreak, blood

Summary // Fred Weasley has been set up to publicly date Y/N, London’s best Quidditch Seeker in order to drum up some publicity. Y/N however has a different ginger man on her mind; George Weasley.

A/N // thank you to my angst goblin, Lanie @gcdric​ and my angel Zahra @starlightweasley​ for helping me get this one out bc otherwise id be STUCK

One new message

The sound of the answer machine rang through Fred’s flat, he was staring out over London and her twinkling lights. His waistcoat was loose, hanging open at his chest - tie discarded the moment he stumbled through the door. He’d pretty much flung the sliding glass door to the balcony open, letting the biter breeze whip through his hair, blowing the once still curtain so that it flew in a way that mimicked the way a superhero’s cape flows. 

The night of partying had been a wild but well needed distraction. Fred couldn’t stop the image of your kiss from playing over and over in his head, his fingers ghosted over where the absent feeling of your lips lingered, wishing you were here. 

“Freddie…” You breathed down the phone, your words slurred still as the liquor clung to your senses. 

“About what happened tonight, I don’t think it was-” His heart began to race at the simple thought, the steamy kiss was crossing his mind once again, He heard you take a moment, a pause for thought and he held his breath with you. 

“I just - we need to talk. We- I have something to tell you.” You sighed, he was praying he could just call you back, checking his watch, he knew it was too late. What If he did call, would that be so bad? 

“I’m sorry, Fred.” the sound of you putting down the phone echoed in his brain. Sorry. What could you possibly be sorry for? It could possibly be one of the best kisses of his life. He couldn’t deny the electricity that he felt from tip to toe and he knew deep down that you felt it too. So why did he feel a pang of sadness hit his chest, winding him like a dementor was sucking the soul out of his body.

Fred fell asleep that night clutching his pillow as he imagined you in its place. He wasn’t sure what made the tears roll down his cheeks, but shrugged it off as the alcohol getting to him. He was snivelling, contemplating leaving you a text. He needed you to know how he felt, that he was aching for you to be with him. He didn’t want things to just be staged anymore, there was undeniable chemistry there between you, he felt it in the way you looked at him. Surely it would be better if you were his, he could kiss and hold you all he wanted without the need for press or cameras. You could have a beautiful, normal life together. You were one of the last thoughts on his brain as he drifted off, his grip against the plush pillow only growing tighter out of desperation. 

Waking to the midday sun shining directly into his eyes wasn’t making the pounding headache rattling around in his skull any better. Fred didn’t remember anything about how or when he got home, only recalling the mellow flow of your voice reverberating around his flat. He managed to drag himself from his bed, searching every unorganised cabinet for the sight of even one lonely ibuprofen, sighing as his head fell to rest on the counter with no luck. He realised the grave mistake he had made when his head started thumping, the room spinning and his sight going hazy. Water, he needed hydration.

Two pints of water later, Fred was still feeling the sour effects of last night’s burning liquor, feeling the burn in his chest with every breath, like all the liquid was ready to come right back up at any moment. He sat himself down at the island counter as he pressed the button to replay the voicemail from last night. 

I’m Sorry.

The words wouldn’t leave him, he replayed the voicemail over and over, internalising every single word as it played through the speakers. He sat for hours, sat too long until his feet had gone numb from dangling over the seat. The Great British weather had taken its turn for the worst, a clap of thunder distracting Fred from his thoughts, not knowing how deeply the words were hitting him, until he felt a tear drop against the back of his hand. It was too much for him, realising that he needed to see you, touch you, feel you. 

I’m Sorry

His feet dragged him towards your place, he didn’t care that he’d been walking for miles or that the rain was drenching him to his very core. It was desperation that drove him to find you. It was like a sign to him that one lonely red rose grew from a bush he passed, stopping dead in his tracks before turning around to look at it. He plucked it from the bush, holding it up to his nose, breathing in the scent. Rose petals mixed with the cold drizzle and muggy air sent him over the edge. He was walking quicker now so that he could get to you, pace kicking up into a small jog, his shoes slapping against the wet pavement with each step.

One light shone dimly from the confines of your apartment. Fred stood outside, debating how he was going to approach this conversation. He loved you, wanted you to be his and he struggled in that moment to find the appropriate words to express it. You were towel drying your hair, supposedly from the rain as you came into view by the window. You looked like an angel, a pure piece of heaven on earth and his heart beat faster, beginning to move closer to the flat’s entrance. That’s when he spotted another figure coming into view from the window, face covered by the towel as you dried their hair. Whoever it was, had at least a foot on you height wise, their hands snaking around your waist to pull you tight and close to them.

Fred’s heart sunk, like it had fully fallen out of his ass, seeing you in the arms of another man made his stomach churn, his grip on the rose growing tighter as the thorns pierced his skin. He didn’t even feel the pain, just the emptiness in his chest. He watched as you pulled the towel from the figure’s face.

The messy ginger hair, round cheeks and adoring smile were obvious. Fred knew exactly who he was seeing, he was blinking so hard wishing that it was just a terrible nightmare. As George’s lips connected with yours, it was as if it rumbled Zeus himself, a bolt of lightning illuminating the dark sky. It was like watching his whole world come crashing down, watching you chase his brother’s lips desperately, the same way you had done with him last night. He couldn’t help but watch as the kiss deepened, George using his strength to pick you up, watching your legs wrap around his waist, walking out of sight. 

It was like watching a glimpse of a life he’d never have, the rose fell to the floor, petals breaking off of the stem. Blood was dripping from his hand to the floor, diluted by the rain as it splashed against the stone. Not a single car drove by your house, not one person was outside but Fred in that moment. Loneliness was the only bitter feeling left, it tasted like hell in his mouth, unable to shake the image of you and George together, only hearing two words in his head over and over like a broken record.

I’m Sorry. 

Raindrops danced along Fred’s skin, the soft pitter patter mocking him, everything reminded him of you, even in a moment of heartbreak, the glow of Christmas lights, the thunder or the distant sound of horns beeping at one another, it all reminded him of you in the most ridiculous way. His phone chimed, pulling up the messages he realised that his thoughts had overpowered the importance of the messages.

>> I miss your touch Freddie

>> I can come see you tonight

>> why aren’t you responding Fred?

>> don’t you love me?

‘Maybe this is what I need’ Fred thought, Perhaps he needed the out, the quick fuck to get the aggression out of his system. They say it’s wrong to sleep with your boss, but Cherry wasn’t his boss, she was just the publicist. The publicist you shared. If you could sleep with anyone you wanted, why should he feel guilty about it now? After all, if there was one woman who could help him forget, It would be Cheryl. 

<< sorry, doll

<< of course i love you

<< come see me x

>> I won’t be long, i’m so desperate for you, Freddie x 

It was wrong for him to say that, especially when he didn’t love cherry. Not one ounce of his body felt a connection deeper than just sex. That's all it was to him with Cherry; mindless, carefree sex. Why he kept going back to her like a lost puppy however, was still up for debate. 

Cheryl wasn't an unattractive woman, but she wasn't you. She was taller, accentuated by her constant need to wear heels, not that it mattered much to Fred when he towered above most people he met. She had long blonde hair that was always beach waved and perfectly sun-kissed skin like a Miami model. Fred didn't care too much about superficial looks, but it was undeniable that part of the reason he enjoyed Cherry so much was the way her tits, although obviously fake, would bounce in his face begging to be touched as she sank down onto him or the way her full lips looked as they wrapped around his throbbing cock. Fucking Cheryl from behind was as much fun, he had all the ass he could hold onto before him and a tight cunt that always struggled to take him. 

Reaching his home Cherry was already waiting for him. She spun around as soon as his presence behind her was felt, lips attaching to his immediately. The red lipstick she wore while unique to her, was now being transferred to the man's lips as they kissed. He wasn't disappointed to be kissing someone, it was disappointment that it wasn't you. Your kisses were heaven compared to what he was getting now, he found himself picturing you in his arms and that seemed to work. 

They wasted no time stripping each other's clothes off, Fred was aching to pound his cock into something, even if it had to be Cherry. When the girl tried to straddle him, he grabbed her hips, throwing her against the mattress, causing a giggle to erupt from her lips. "Hands and knees tonight, Doll." 

Being seethed inside Cherry felt amazing. He tried to stretch her out, push as much of himself inside as he could, but she was simply so tight. The pace he set was animalistic, fucking the girl raw against the sheets, he couldn't stand to look at her, closing his eyes and pretending it was the girl he’d been longing for. It wasn't enough, he needed more control. Fred's hand was pushing Cherry's face into the sheets, his thrusts more violent and possessive as he continued fucking her senseless. 

Back at your home, George was seethed all the way inside you, making your eyes roll to the back of your head. The way you two fit together was like lock and key, a perfect size for each other. "I'm so deep inside of you princess, can you feel me in your belly?" You were nodding, grabbing his hand to press against your abdomen, his thrusts were slow and purposeful, he was trying to make you cum over and over and over again tonight and you were already waiting for number four. "Yes Georgie, right here, it feels so good when you fill me up." he hummed as he felt the tip of his cock hitting where his hand was pressed with every thrust. His precious girl. All for him. 

Fred was on the edge, skin slapping as he chased his orgasm, Not caring much for Cherry's desperate moans, no matter how good he was making her feel. He wanted her to shut up, it sounded so fake, but he was ready to release, pulling out to let his cum drip over the curve of her ass. He flopped on the bed next to her, immediately feeling her hand on his cock, stroking gently. "You're so good, Freddie, So big." 

She took him into her mouth with ease, it was the only time he could be fully inside of her. His head was back against the mattress as he pictures your soft lips replacing hers. His hand came up to stroke her hair as she continued sucking him off. Try as he might to cum again, he knew it wasn’t your hand on his cock, or your lips. It was another woman, the thought made him sick to his stomach, forcing him to sit bolt upright, pulling himself away from the naked girl on his bed.

“I can’t do this.” he grumbled, grabbing the boxers he had discarded on the floor, pulling them up. Cherry sighed, running a hand through her hair and pulling it over her shoulder, “Do you want me to stay Freddie?” she smiled, playing with the ends of hair as she watched him walk into his bathroom across the hall. “I don’t care.” he spoke plainly, the hurt in his chest hitting him once again as he slammed the door behind him. 

He could still hear the hums and moans you made against his lips. As he leant against the shut door, his hand reached down to start palming himself, feeling himself grow hard again at the thought of you. He was picturing you sprawled out on his bed, begging for him, using your mouth to get him off - He was getting close again as he imagined slamming his hips into you. Just as he reached his peak again, one thought plagued his mind, you moaning his twins name. His heart broke again as he came, sighing as he realised that he was too late. You weren’t his to have.

/// TO BE CONTINUED ///  >>>>>> Chapter Seven

taglist //  @starlightweasley​ @slytherinsunrise​ @gcdric​ @theweasleysredhair​ @whiz-bangs78​ @weasleysflowr​ @vogueweasley​ @minty-malfoy​ @vivianweasley​ @feetoffthetablee​ @thisismynerdyself​ @rip-us​ @witch-and-a-half​ @sarcasticallywitty15​ @pandaxnienke​ @loony-loopy-lupinn​ @pigwidgexn​ @mackaywhore​ @softlyqoos​ @colorfulprofessornickelangel​ @fandomscombine​ @satellitespidey​ @txtdreamss​ @aaannabbanana​  @starkidpotty​ @mollydarling-hphm​ @amwithers2001​ @mrmoonyy​

[dialovers-translations]

Diabolik Lovers GRAND EDITION for Switch ;; More, Blood ー Yuma [Vampire Ending]

ー The scene starts in Yui’s room

Yui: Nnー Such lovely weather again today!

( It’s still sunny out, so it really makes me itch to go on a walk or something. )

( I wonder...Would Yuma-kun come with me if I asked? )

ー Yuma enters the room

*Thud*

Yuma: Oi, Sow!!

Yui: Wah!? Y-Yuma-kun! Please stop barging in...

Yuma: Come here!!

ー He throws her over his shoulder

*Rustle*

Yui: Eh!? H-Hold up!? Why are you carrying me!?

Yuma: ‘Cause you’re so damn slow! We don’t have a second to waste!

Come on, hang on tight!! Not my fault if ya fall!

ー He dashes off

Yui: Kyaaaaaah!

ー The scene shifts to the living room

Yui: Noー! I’m gonna fall!

Ruki: ...What is this ruckus about?

Azusa: Who knows...

Kou: I suppose our cat and dog are going at it again? Such good friends~

Azusa: Then did Yuma...get chosen by Eve and become Adam?

Ruki: ...

ー The scene shifts to the garden

Yuma: ‘Kay, we’re here!

Yui: ( H-He finally came to a halt... )

Geez, Yuma-kun! How many times do I have to tell you to stop carrying me aroundーー!?

Yuma: Ah, my bad, my bad. Now stop whinin’ like a baby.

Yui: ( He definitely doesn’t feel a shred of regret... )

Yuma: Anyway, take a look at this!

Yui: Eh...What? What should I look aーー

Ah...!

( The snapped roses are blooming...!? )

Yuma: Isn’t this amazin’!? They didn’t even seem close to bloomin’ yet yesterday!

Even after being broken...They continued to suck up water and sunlight every day, fighting to stay alive.

...To bloom one day.

Yui: ...You didn’t give up either, did you? You’ve been looking after them every day.

Yuma: Yeah...When I saw them refuse to wither even after being snapped, I was reminded of Boss and the others.

...So I won’t give up either.

*Rustle*

Yui: ...! You’re going to pluck them? But they finally bloomed...

Yuma: I’m sure they already saw them. Next upーー

ー He moves close

Yuma: It’s time to fulfill my dream.

Yui: ( He’s giving the roses to me...? Why...? )

Yuma: Marry me, Yui.

Yui: ...Eeeeh!?

Yuma: Hehe, that’s the most unattractive reaction ya could have given me. Well, I expected as much from ya tho.

Yui: I-I mean, marriage...!?

Yuma: Just hear me out.

...I can’t become Adam. So I definitely won’t be forgiven for stealin’ Eve away.

...I fully understand that.

But ya know, if I were to give up ‘cause of that, I wouldn’t be stayin’ true to myself.

I don’t care if you’re Eve or whatever, I’ve already decided that I won’t give up on the girl who goes by the name Komori Yui.

I doubt that man will forgive my selfish actions...But it’s too soon to give up. Right?

At this point, I no longer care ‘bout my memory loss.

I truly don’t give a damn ‘bout my past anymore.

My past with Boss is all I need. Also...As long as I have a future ahead of me.

And ya definitely have to be a part of that future.

*Rustle*

Yui: ...!

Yuma: So ya better brace yerself.

I’ll continue suckin’ yer blood...Until that man acknowledges our relationship.

So until then...No, even beyond that point, ya have to stay by my side, Yui.

ー He bites her

Yui: Nn...Uu...!

( ...Before I could even answer... )

Yuma: Nn...

Yui: Yuma-kun...

Yuma: ...What?

Yui: I haven’t given you a reply yet...Nn...

Yuma: Fool. I won’t listen to yer answer. You’re gonna marry me. That’s the only option you’ve got.

Marry me. ...Understood, Yui?

*Smooch*

Yui: ...Oh come on...!

Ruki: ーー Marriage, you say?

Yui: ...!?

ー Ruki walks up to them

Yui: Ruki-kun...!

Ruki: Don’t decide something so important by yourself. ...Yuma. Do you truly believe you will be allowed to do this?

Yuma: I don’t. And that’s exactly why I’m gonna keep on tryin’ until I get his blessings.

Ruki: No matter how hard you struーー!

Reinhart: Oh come on, why not?

Ruki: ...!

Yui: Sensei? Why are you here...?

Reinhart: There’s a little something I wanted to discuss with Ruki-kun. Kou-kun said he didn’t know where he is, so I came looking for him.

Of course, I never thought I would witness two of my students proposing to each other.

Yui: ( E-Even Sensei saw that just now...Suddenly I feel really embarrassed. )

Reinhart: Not even God is capable of pulling apart two people who love each other, Ruki-kun.

Ruki: ...Sensei...

Reinhart: While we’re at it, why don’t we hold a ceremony? You might not expect it, but I am actually trained as a priest as well.

Yui: ( A-A priest...? )

Reinhart: Well then, make hay while the sun shines! Seize the day! Come on, go get changed you two!

Yui: Get changed? Into what?

Reinhart: Formal wear, obviously! ...Or that’s what I would like to say, but I suppose your school uniforms will do?

Although I would love to see her in a wedding dress as well.

But I am sure you should wear that once you get acknowledged by the person you are seeking recognition from.

Yuma: ...Finally a teacher who knows what he’s talkin’ ‘bout!

Yui: Eh!?

Yuma: Come on, let’s go get changed!

ー Yuma picks her up again

*Rustle*

Yui: Kyaah! Didn’t you hear me earlier!? Don’t carry me!

ー He runs off again

Reinhart: Fufufu, must be nice to still be young.

Ruki: ...Are you sure this is okay?

Reinhart: There is no problem if their love is mutual, Ruki-kun.

Ruki: ...

Reinhart: There is nothing more beautiful in this world than mutual love.

*TIMESKIP*

Yui: I never pictured myself as the bride of a Vampire.

Yuma: Now yer dream of becoming a Nun has been utterly crushed. Serves ya right.

Yui: Fufu, I don’t mind~ Getting married was one of my dreams as well after all.

Yuma: That’s the polar opposite of bein’ a nun, isn’t it!? Honestly, chicks really change their mind like they change clothes.

Oi, ya lil’ rascal. If ya somehow change yer mind one of these days, I’m not lettin’ that happen.

Yui: That’s my line. You tend to grow tired of things quite easily after all. Just the other dayーー

Yuma: Che, shut up. Fine. Then I’ll make a vow.

...But before that. Oi, just yer uniform is kinda dull. Put this on.

–> If you are playing the Limited V edition or the Grand Edition, little black roses will appear on the screen. If you click on them, you get an extra line of dialogue.

“Only watch me forever, ‘kay?”

“I thought they would never bloom. But...They actually did. After seein’ that, I felt like I could accomplish anything. Ya feel the same way, don’t ya?”

Yui: This is...the rose from earlier.

Yuma: Yeah...I’m sure Boss is watchin’ over us as well. He should...be happy for us as well.

Yui: Yeah...! I’m sure of it.

I’m happy, thank you...

Yuma: ...Yeah...

...Okay.

Yui: Yuma-kun...

Yuma: Mukami Yuma vows right here that he will only ever suck Komori Yui’s blood for the rest of his life. There, that’ll do, right?

Yui: ...I can’t feel the love at all, you know?

Yuma: The fuck? Those words are comin’ from a Vampire! It’s the very definition of love!

Yui: But you’d suck my blood even if you didn’t love me, right? Since my blood is especially delicious apparently.

Yuma: ...Che, fine. Come on, lend me yer ear.

Mukami Yuma vows that he will love you forever. ...Happy now?

Yui: Fufu, let’s give you a pass.

Yuma: Heh...Ya really are a pain in the ass.

...Now ya are officially mine, Yui.

Just like I promised earlier, I’ll only ever love ya.

Yui: Yeah. I’ll love you until the day I die as well. 

Yuma: Idiot. It’s ‘Even in death’, isn’t it?

...You’re my very own Eve. I’ll never let ya go again.

ーー THE END ーー

[chimchimsauce]

XS (VII - Brick)

“Give me just a little bit MORE”

Being the son of the largest gang in the country, Kim Taehyung might as well be a prince. He is more powerful than any one man should be and is not afraid to get rid of anything - or anyone that gets in his way.

So when a man is unable to pay back the gigantic loan he owes Taehyung, the heir is all too happy to take his life. Moments away from pulling the trigger, a girl more beautiful than he’s ever seen bursts in and offers her life for her father’s. Taehyung knows right away that he wants her.

And Taehyung gets everything he wants.

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven 

Taehyung rides with YN to the reception hall, Jungkook now sitting up front next to the driver. YN stares out of the window, pretending that she cannot see Taehyung's gaze in the glass's reflection.

She wishes the weather would reflect her mood. The day is bright and sunny, not a storm cloud in sight. The people they drive past look are smiling, laughing without a care as they go about their everyday lives, smiling and being happy. What YN wouldn't do for the chance at that simple life again.

Of course, the drive to the reception is not long at all. Taehyung slides out of the vehicle, taking quick strides to go around the back of the car and open YN's door for her. He offers her his hand and she takes it, uttering a small "Thank you." He does not let her go as they waltz into the reception hall, a beautiful old building with exposed brick and lots of pretty greenery. It's someplace YN would have dreamed about visiting, a venue she would have picked herself.

Her new husband releases her once they're safely inside in one of the small back rooms the venue has.

"You've been doing so well," Taehyung says, his hand heavy on her bare shoulder, "I am so proud of you, darling."

"Thank you," YN says again robotically.

Taehyung hums contentedly, his long fingers tapping down her sides before landing on the zipper that closes her dress. YN freezes.

Is he going to make a move now? With people on their way here as they speak?

"Taehyung," YN breathes out.

He mobster quite likes the sound of his name coming from her throat. He'll be sure to wrangle it out of her a thousand times before the night is over.

"Yes, darling," Taehyung answers, pulling the zipper down.

"Are you . . . we're not . . ." YN can't form full sentences, petrified.

Taehyung places a kiss on his wife's neck, loving the way she trembles.

"So eager," he whispers, lips brushing against her skin, "Later, darling. We go have guests to entertain."

A knock on the door shatters the intensity in the room. The relief YN feels is immense.

"Yes?" Taehyung asks, his annoyance obvious.

He hadn't been planning on taking YN here, but she placed the thought in his head and now his head is filled with ideas of pinning her against the wall, the brick digging into her back and leaving bloody scrapes. It sounds like such a wonderful experience, but now someone has shattered it.

The door swings open and in waltzes Yoonji, still dressed in her usual uniform. Her face is blank, taking in the scene with no interest.

"You wanted me to prepare YN for the reception," she says breezily, addressing Taehyung only and pretending that YN isn't even there.

"Right," Taehyung says, running his hands through his hair.

YN can't help but look at his golden wedding ring.

"Make sure Miss Kim looks beautiful," Taehyung says, moving to leave, "Even though it's impossible for her not to."

YN has never wished to be unattractive until this moment. If she was ugly, this wouldn't be happening. But then again, if Taehyung hadn't been interested in her, he would have killed her and her parents on the spot.

When the door shuts, YN is alone with Yoonji. She smiles at the other women but Yoonji doesn't return it, silently moving about the room. In the corner, there is a clothing rack with a garment bag hanging on it. Yoonji unzips it and pulls out a floofy white dress, one that should stop around YN's knees. She finishes unzipping YN's wedding dress, ridding her of it. YN is glad; That thing weighs like forty pounds.

YN stands there in her lingerie, Yoonji's eyes raking up and down her figure before she turns away, muttering something under her breath. YN peeks down at herself. Is something wrong with her body?

"Is everything alright?" YN asks Yoonji, wrapping her arms around herself.

"Just fine," Yoonji says curtly, bending down to allow YN to step into the new dress.

Yoonji jerks the fabric up too quickly and YN trips, almost falling to the ground.

"Hey!" she shouts.

Yoonji ignores her, pulling the princess sleeves over YN's shoulders and zipping her up. Se guides the bride over to the small vanity, unboxing the awaiting makeup kit. Yoonji quickly touches up YN's makeup, ridding YN of the evidence of her first kiss with Taehyung. YN is happy to have her smudged lipstick wiped away and replaced. If only she could do it with the skin that monster touched.

Yoonji rids YN of her veil and weaves flowers and gold into her hair, finishing her work. It took her just over twenty minutes to complete before another knock sounds on the door. It's Taehyung. He barges in without waiting for an answer.

"Is she ready yet?"

"Yes, sir," Yoonji says, stepping out of the way and disappearing down the hallway.

Taehyung extends his hands to hers, raising her hand to his mouth and pressing a kiss to the back of it. Disgust washes over YN but she ignores it, knowing better than to pull away from him.

"I have some very important people I want you to meet, darling," he says to her as they walk into the main room.

People mingle amongst themselves, looking up when the new Mr. and Mrs. Kim enter the room. They're swarmed almost immediately, random people coming up to them to wish them well and get Taehyung's attention. YN is reminded of just how powerful the man she was forced to marry is by the way people are eager to get into his good graces.

YN's face hurts from all the smiling she has to do, greeting people she knows could kill her in a matter of seconds. It pains her that she sticks so close to Taehyung. Better the monster you know that the one you don't.

Every so often, YN will allow her gaze to wander, looking over those people who have yet to congratulate them. In the very corner, YN spots her own parents, locking eyes with her mother. Her mom is doing her best to not look terrified, but fear rolls off of her in waves. YN wants nothing more than to run over there and feel her loving embrace, pulling her close and breathing in the scent that has comforted her ever since she was small.

Her parents may not have had much, but they were abundant in love, making sure YN always felt safe and happy in her home. The memories of her childhood suddenly feel eons away, almost as if she had never lived them at all. Was it even her who was comforted after a hard day at school? Was it even her who crawled into her parents' bed when thunder struck? YN's mother sends her a shaky smile. YN has never seen her mother look so weak.

"Why don't we go say 'Hi', darling?" Taehyung asks her suddenly, whisking her away from the crowd of gangsters before she can even protest.

YN doesn't trust Taehyung as far as she can throw him. The less often he's around her parents, the better.

"Hello, Mother," Taehyung says brightly to YN's mom, much too happy for their circumstances, "Doesn't YN look beautiful?"

"She does," her mother says, voice barely above a whisper.

She reaches for YN but Taehyung pulls her away, his grasp too tight on her waist.

"Excuse me for being a little . . . possessive . . ." Taehyung says, "I don't want anyone to accidentally ruin my beautiful bride's dress. Well, except for me."

He laughs wholeheartedly and YN and her mother are forced to join in, both of them hiding their disgust.

YN's father appears by his wife's side, a flute of champagne in his hands. He's squeezing the glass so tightly YN is worried that it'll shatter.

"You -" YN's father begins, only to be cut off by YN in a panic.

"Daddy -" she says, aware of Taehyung's heated stare, "Why don't you take Mama and go dancing? I know you love to dance."

YN chuckles awkwardly at her lie, relieved when her father nods wordlessly and sweeps his wife away to the dance floor.

"It's about time to have our first dance," Taehyung remarks, whirling YN into the center of the room.

As if someone had been waiting for this moment, a spotlight beams down on them and music begins to play. All eyes are on them. YN has never even attempted to learn ballroom dancing but she's too afraid to say something now.

She follows Taehyung's footsteps as best she can, studying his feet and careful to not step on him.

"Look at me," he commands and she does, gasping a bit when she sees how intensely he's staring her down, "You are so beautiful . . . so sweet. And you're all mine."

Taehyung spins YN and she falls into him, her hands splayed out on his chest.

"Say it," Taehyung demands, wrapping his arms around her waist and turning around himself.

YN is sure this isn't the proper form but all she can focus on is the feel of him under his thin shirt, lean and strong. In some ways, Taehyung being a handsome man feels like a punishment within itself. But she supposes she shouldn't be surprised. The Devil was the most handsome angel of all.

"Say what?" YN asks as he dips her low to the ground, his large hand on her thigh.

Her cheeks flush red when he toys with the little lace garter she was forced to wear.

"Say that you're mine."

"I'm yours," YN says.

She has never hated herself so much.

"Good girl," he whispers in her ear, biting her once more.

Something tells her that he gets his kicks from causing pain.

The music ends with a flourish, Taehyung bowing to YN and kissing her on her cut up palms.

For the rest of the evening, Taehyung allows YN to roam about while he speaks business with whoever he needs to speak business with. Her parents have disappeared and YN prays it's because they were asked to leave since Taaehyung had gotten his fill of rubbing it into their faces.

Every entry is guarded by big men with even bigger guns, so any chance of escape (or even a moment alone) is thwarted. With nothing other to do and a growing fear of what will come after, YN turns to the seemingly endless supply of alcohol. She has never been a big drinker but right now she's chasing a blackout, wanting to remember as little of this day as possible.

"Maybe you should slow down," a voice says.

YN turns and sees a vaguely familiar man.

"Who are you?" she asks him.

So far, no one has been brave enough to approach her, no doubt afraid of gaining Taehyung's wrath. This man, however, seems relaxed, completely at ease.

"I'm Jimin," he says, "We've met a few times before, but haven't been formally introduced. I'm Taehyung's - and now yours - driver."

"Ooooh," YN says, her words slurring just a touch.

"I knew I knew you from . . . somewhere," she says, placing a hand on her hip.

"You should probably stop drinking," he says, moving to take the flute away from her.

YN steps back, jerking her glass and spilling a bit. It burns in her cuts and she whimpers, still refusing to let go of it.

"I can still remember. I don't want to remember today."

"Well we can't be having that," a new voice - Taehyung - calls out.

YN's blood runs cold as he yanks the glass away from her and shoves it into Jimin's awaiting hands. She can tell that he's angry and it's paralyzing.

"The Mrs. and I will be heading out now," Taehyung announces to the crowd, "It was a pleasure having you all here. Thanks so much for coming."

He guides the stumbling YN out of the venue, Jimin hot on their heels. In the back of the car, Taehyung hands YN a water bottle, forcing her to drink all of it.

"You shouldn't have done that," he says, glaring at her, "I'll make sure you remember every second of this day."

Chapter Eight

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[suchalonelysunflower]

“One of the Boys” (M.C)

Pairings: Michael Clifford X Reader

Summary: College!AU ~ Friends to Lovers. You and Michael are best friends since forever, that’s why you feel the need to hide your crush on him. But when he makes a hurtful comment, you are determined to prove him wrong. Could that be enough to make him love you?

Warnings: The reader uses she/her pronouns, I’m sorry if I make anyone uncomfortable with that, it was not my intention. Angst with fluffy parts. Language, low self esteem issues, cheating (a little bit, it depends on how you view it) one sexual reference and some grammar and syntax errors (English it’s not my first language, I’m sorry)

Word Count: 5.5K

Author’s Note: My first Michael Fic! I waited so long and it’s finally here ✨ This is slyghtly based on a personal experience (mine didn’t have this ending) I hope you like it! Feedback, reblogs and comments are always welcomed, I love to hear from you guys 💕 You can read my other works HERE 🦋

You had to admit it, you weren’t exactly a very ‘feminine’ girl. But that the hell was wrong with that? Yes, you preferred leggings and big hoodies over skirts and tight dresses. Yes, you skateboarded everyday to school and hanged out with boys all the time, drinking beers instead of fancy little cocktails. Yes, you never really cared about boy bands or artists like Justin Bieber or Drake. And yes, you would rather die than have high heels on for more than 2 hours straight. But that’s just who you are, how you’ve always been. His comment shouldn’t have hurt that much, but why are you crying about it?

You have been roomates with Michael since you two started college. You always joked about how you were going to live together someday and have a fridge full of junk food and soda. Well, now you do (except from the junk food part, that proved to be an awful experience)

To be honest, you didn’t have that many friends besides him and your other four knuckleheads you know and love from your early school days. Luke was the youngest of all of you, and maybe that’s why everybody thought he was the innocent one (even though he was the mastermind of almost every prank you ever pulled) Calum was the shy one, as people would put it, but just get to know him a little bit and you wouldn’t be able to shut him up. Ashton is supposedly the mature one, but his quick-witted mind and his inability of staying put in a place gives him the same amount of energy as a five year old. And then there was Michael, your best friend, there isn’t a time in your life where Michael wasn’t by your side, weather it was for pulling a prank on someone, skipping school or just playing video games in his basement, he was always there. So moving in together was a no brainer.

The friendship consisted on having the same level of confidence as an old married couple, trusting each other with everything, nothing being off limits, well, except for one thing…

You and Michael were friends and nothing more. That was clear for both of you. For years you both ignored the teasing and assumptions of you guys being a couple. Just the idea of it seeming so absurd to even imagine. But there’s a fine line between love and friendship.

Over the last few years, you began to think that the idea of being Michael’s girlfriend didn’t sound so bad after all. It was impossible to pin the pivotal point of that thought, but somehow somewhere along the road, you started to feel more flustered every time he leaned into a hug, felt butterflies in your stomach with each look he speared your way or how he said your name with such a caring tone. You found yourself thinking of him more often than not, especially on how his arms would look around you waist, how it will feel to be loved by him, to kiss him…

But you couldn’t think like that, not about your best friend. So it’s better to keep it hidden in the deepest part of your soul, praying to whoever’s above that it will go away soon, but when does that ever work?

Maybe that’s why his comment hurt so bad.

It was a lazy Monday, you didn’t have to work today and that meant you could spend your afternoon beating Michael’s ass in video games. But you couldn’t concentrate with your thoughts wandering over the man who owns your heart. It was the third time you let him win in Mario Kart when he caught on your mood.

“You really suck today, huh?” Michael asked as he watches Mario celebrate yet another victory.

“Or maybe you’re finally getting good” You replied, resting your head lazily in one hand, not taking your eyes from the screen.

Michael furrowed his brows, worrying as he heard a light sigh come out of your lips “Hey, are you okay?” He asked, but you don’t seem to hear him, so he accommodates himself on the couch in order to look at you properly and puts a hand on your leg, just right above the knee “Y/N?”

“Huh?” You say, finally lifting your gaze in order to meet his and oh, how you wish you didn’t. Lost in the sea of those green eyes that consumed every thought of your mind, you felt yourself blushing under him and trying very hard not to think on his hand touching your thigh “What? No, yeah. I’m fine.”

“Liar. You let me win, that never happens. Tell me, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong”

“Y/N,”

“Nothing’s wrong, Michael. I swear”

His eyes scanned you, knowing damn well something was up.

“Well,” He said, patting your leg, softly “If you’re not gonna tell me… Then I will make you”

Before you could even comprehend what he meant by that, he was already leaning over your figure with a devilish grin as his hands traveled to your sides and started tickling you mercilessly.

Tears formed in the corner of your eyes as you couldn’t contain the laughter that came over you. Begging him to stop, you tried to escape his grip, but it wasn’t the first time this had happened and you know this is a fight you can’t. Michael joined in laughter as he came closer to you, pinning you under him on the sofa.

But suddenly, his movements stop as he becomes very aware of the position you’re in. You give one last laugh before turning to face him, only to find him already staring at you. You shudder under his gaze as you realize the way his legs are intertwined with yours, wondering if it’s his cellphone on the pocket of his shorts or something else is brushing up against your lower body.

Michael’s eyes never leave yours as your breath becomes even. And he couldn’t help but notice the way that your lips parted slightly, almost inviting him for a taste.

“Hey, dude, sorry to bother you but.. Oh shit, you’re fucking on the couch?” A voice came through the door, making you push Michael onto the floor before getting caught in that position. Raising your head over the sofa, you were met by Ashton and Luke’s grin disappearing from their faces as your face came to view “Oh, it’s just Y/N. WAIT, Were you fucking Y/N?!”

Rolling your eyes and giving them the middle finger, you stand up from the couch, regretting ever giving them a key in the first place, and went straight to the bathroom, trying to hide the red of your cheeks.

But just before you could close the door, you heard Michael say “What are you talking about? It Y/N! She’s practically one of the boys!”

He didn’t mean to hurt you. He had good intentions with that comment, of course he did. But you couldn’t stop overthinking it, crying at the thought of you being so unattractive in his eyes.

“So he wants a girly girl?” You thought, already planning a strategy “I’ll show him, then”

That’s how it started. You began to wear the dresses that were long forgotten on your wardrobe, you started using makeup and styling your hair in something other than a messy bun.

It was confusing at first and not at all what you were used to, but there was a new energy surrounding you, a confident one. You were going to show Michael that you could be feminine, maybe that way he’ll notice you in a ‘more than just a friend’ kinda way.

The first time the boys saw you with your new look they were all sharing breakfast in your kitchen. With your apartment being closer to campus they might as well move in.

“Good morning, guys” You said cheerfully, not looking at anyone in particular.

They all stared at you, looking at you up and down. And just before you could reach the cereal box, the questions started coming.

“What the hell is going on?”

“Y/N why are you dressed like a girl? IS THAT MAKE UP?”

“Do you have a date? It’s 8 am on a Tuesday! Who are they? Vampires?”

“Who are you and what did you do to our Y/N?”

“Is the simulation broken?”

“Shhh” You said, raising the palm of your hand as you poured cereal in a bowl “It’s too damn early for any of you to do that much noise and I haven’t had my coffee yet” As in que, Ashton passed you your usual mug “Thank you, and to answer some of your inquiries. 1) Nothing’s going on, Calum. 2) I happen to be a girl, Luke. Thank you for noticing. 3) I do not have a date, nor I should use that as an excuse to put on some nice clothes. I just,, felt like it” You took a long sip from the hot beverage “The simulation broke down a long time ago and I’m still me. I’m just wearing different clothes, that’s all. Right, Mikey?”

Michael choked with his toast, coughing as he tried to gain some composure “Yeah, you look… great” He said with a shy smile, and he was right. The others joined in with the compliments, hyping and teasing you about how he will have to be more protective of you because you will sure bring home some hot dates looking like that.

It’s been a couple of weeks since that morning and everyday Michael complimented you. You’d be lying if you say that every word he says doesn’t fill your heart with butterflies. Maybe there’s a possibility that he feels the same way.

It was a pretty uneventful evening in the little coffee shop where you worked. You didn’t have many clients today, so the dim lights and the sweet voice of Hozier that blasted through the speakers allowed you to daydream. Michael’s face popped out in your mind, smiling as you remembered the way that he looked at you this morning. Finally proving that you were more than just “One of the boys”

You were so caught up in your thoughts that you didn’t hear the bell chime when the door opened, only waking up when you saw those same eyes that had you smiling just a minute ago standing in front of you, staring at you as well.

“Hey Y/N! How’s it going?” He asked, smiling at you.

“Nothing much” You shrug “Just the same amount of pain and tiredness of the average college experience” Michael rolled his eyes at your sarcasm. That’s when a giggle caught your attention.

The most beautiful woman you ever laid your eyes on was standing next to Michael. She had the bluest eyes you’ve ever seen and her wavy hair complemented her face like an angel. She sure didn’t seem real, how did you not notice her when she entered? Were you really that busy focusing on Michael?

“I can totally relate to that” The girl said with a smile, god even her smile was perfect.

“Y/N, this is Veronica. Veronica, Y/N” Michael introduced.

You smiled politely at her and she did the same “Oh, the famous Y/N! I heard a lot about you, I can’t wait to get to know you better”

Um, what? Michael has been talking about you? To her? You couldn’t tell if it was good or a bad sign.

“Really? Well, don’t believe anything he says. Unless they are good things, then he’s right”

“Okay! Thank you, Y/N” He interrupted, mocking annoyance “I’ll take my usual please, darling. And she will have…”

“Just a mocha, please”

You nodded “Coming right up” You smiled at her as she walked to a table. Michael leaned over the counter and whispered.

“Could you do one of those drawing people do in the coffee? She will love that. Thanks.” He gave you a kiss on the cheek and walked away, sitting close to Veronica in one of the booths just before he could notice the way your cheeks turned to a much brighter red.

An hour passes. Then two. Then two and a half. And you were standing there, acting as a witness of their chemistry. You cursed yourself as your eyes drifted towards them, watching them laugh and talk about life. It was clear that Michael was enchanted by her, moving closer and closer every time, and you could tell the feeling was mutual as she laid her delicate hand on his.

Of course Michael would go for the pretty girls. Veronica was gorgeous, you couldn’t pinpoint a single defect on that girl, not even with a magnifying glass and you hated that. You hated the fact that he brought her here, you hated the fact that you have to work while his love story unfolds like a Taylor Swift song, you hated that it you weren’t the one sitting next to him, talking about dreams and how everything just collides perfectly within the universe. But that’s not your story.

“Earth calling Y/N?” A voice calls in front of you “Hello?”

You blink a few times and stare at the tall blond man waving his hand in front of your face “Sorry, Luke. Didn’t see you there” You excuse yourself “What can I get for you?”

“The usual, but this time with at least four more shots of espresso. I have to put an all nighter again cause I have that stupid presentation and you are not listening to me again”

“Sorry, what? Four shots of espresso, yeah.” Your gaze averted his “Anything else?”

“Okay, what’s going on?” Luke followed where your eyes led and soon he was, too, staring at the reason of your distraction “Oh”

Out of the four of them, Luke was the only one who knew about your feelings for Michael. He was always very supportive and didn’t pressure you into confessing right away, knowing it must be hard for you. So he can’t imagine what is going on inside your head right now, watching the man you love on a date.

“He didn’t tell me he had a date” You told him.

“He mentioned this morning” Luke added “Said he met her at one of his classes and that she seemed cool. So he asked her out. He never told us he would bring her here “You clenched your jaw, trying to keep the tears at bay. Luke noticed that “I’m sorry, love. I thought he told you about it”

“She is gorgeous, Luke”

“She’s not you, though” You scoffed.

“Exactly”

“Y/N…”

“I’m fine,” You lied “Really, I’m okay. It was a silly crush anyway. And plus, look how happy he looks”

And it was true. Michael did look very happy chatting and flirting with Veronica. His smile reaching his eyes as she spoke and laugh at all his jokes. He truly must like her, and you… Well, some people are just meant to be the side character of another person’s story.

Luke let out a sigh, knowing well enough to assume you are just going to bury your feelings like you always do “He will soon realize what he’s missing”

************************************************

Well, six months passed and he still hasn’t realized. It’s been six month since that fateful evening where you got your heart broken by the man you love. It’s been six months since Veronica has been a constant part of your daily life, sleeping over, joining on movie nights and replaced your spot next to your best friend. It’s been six months of dressing more ‘girly’, wearing make-up and doing your nails, all of it trying to call Michael’s attention, to make you look more like Veronica, more like someone you are not. And all of that for what? You still ended up crying yourself to sleep almost every night.

Luke has been there for you all this time, letting you crash in his place whenever she came over and trying to distract you from the heartache by making jokes or goofing around, sometimes even letting you stay the night just to talk or cry or whatever you needed.

Tonight, however, it was a special night. Michael texted you saying that he finally found the movie you were dying to see for years! It was a special straight to dvd movie with Betty White that you remember it being your favorite growing up but you could never find it anywhere. And to say that you were ecstatic when Michael suggested a movie night for the two of you, would be an understatement.

You got the popcorn ready, ordered some pizzas and the ice cream was in the freezer. It was the first time in months that you would have time alone with Michael and, honestly, you missed him like crazy. Yes, you know he lives there, but it’s been a while since you guys actually talked or shared a good laugh together. Putting your feelings towards him aside, you just missed your best friend.

Suddenly, the bell rang. It wasn’t uncommon for Michael to forget his keys, so you weren’t really surprised.

“How many times do I have to tell you that we bought you that keychain for a reason and-“ But it wasn’t Michael standing at the door “Veronica.. I thought you were Michael”

The girl smiled, (really, not even a chip tooth?) “Yeah, he told me he’ll be a little late and that I should just go ahead” She said as she made her way into the apartment.

“Oh?”

“Yeah, I love movie night!”

He invited her. It was a moment for the two of you and he invited her.

You couldn’t be mad, could you? She’s his girlfriend, after all. She could be here and he had every right to invite her, but… But it still hurt. You thought you’d be spending the evening with your best friend, he said you would. It was a special movie for the both of you, why invite her?

“Can I be honest with you, Y/N?” Veronica said, pulling you away from your mind.

“Uh, sure”

“I have to admit, I was really intimidated by you”

“By me? Why?”

“Well, when Michael talked about you I always thought I had to compete for his attention. It was always Y/N this, Y/N that… He assured me that you were just friends, but I didn’t believe him until I met you. I love that he has a friend like you. You really mean a lot to him so, thank you”

You nodded and muttered a “no problem”

She was right, you were just a friend of Michael’s. Why did you ever think you could be more? Especially with someone like her in his life? It was foolish, it was crazy. He would never look at you the same so, why keep trying?

“So, what are we watching?”

“Oh, um… I don’t know. I’m not staying” You said, hiding the pain in your voice.

“But Michael told me-“

“I’m spending the night at Luke’s today. I totally forgot”

You rushed out of the living room and went straight to your room, letting the tears fall as you started packing for a few days. You needed to get away as soon as possible. You couldn’t handle staying here at the moment, it hurt too much.

Just as you were packing the last pieces of clothing, you heard Michael opening the front door. And surely, a few moments later he was pushing yours open.

“What do you mean you’re not staying tonight?” He barged in.

Your back was facing him, so you couldn’t see him, you didn’t want to see him, but he sounded hurt. Quickly, you wiped your tears with the back of the hand and tried to muttered something close to an unbothered tone.

“I’m going to Luke’s”

“You always go to Luke’s, are you two a thing or something? Because you seem to live there more than here”

You let out a small laugh, was he really that dense?

“There’s nothing going on between me and Luke-“

“Then why are you always in his place?”

“It’s none of your business”

“Well, Y/N it is. It is because I wanted you to spend the night because we rarely see each other anymore and now you’re ditching me again!”

He raised his voice a bit, clearly frustrated and confused. That alone made your anger take the best of you.

“Oh please, as if you really want me here”

Michael frowned “What does that suppose to mean?”

“Why did you invite her?”

“Veronica? She’s my girlfriend, I though-“

“I know that she’s your girlfriend, I get it. It’s just-“ You took a deep breath, trying not to cry or scream or both “It’s just that tonight was special, and I wanted to share that with my best friend. Only with my best friend. But I feel like everytime we try to do something together she’s always there and-“

“You don’t like her?”

“What? No, that’s the worst part. I actually think she’s great” You turned around and closed your bag, ready to leave “Michael I’m not going start a fight, I’m going to stay with Luke for a while. Don’t wait up”

You made your way out of the room, but before you could reach the door Michael’s hand grabbed you by the arm, making you stop.

“Michael” You warned “Let me go”

“No, wait. What do you mean with ‘that’s the worst part’?”

“I’m not having this conversation right now.”

“Yes, you are” Michael made you turn around. You were now looking at him in the eyes, he seemed hurt but you,, oh, you were in pain “Y/N, what is going on? You’ve been avoiding me lately, you’re not staying home, you don’t talk to me anymore, you’re dressing differently and sneaking out everytime I’m here. Is it because of Veronica?” You shook your head, slightly “Then what is it? Why are you pulling away from me?”

“Because it’s too damn hard!” You say looking away from him, unable to contain the tears any longer.

Michael’s eyes winded at your answer. His lips parted in surprise at your sudden outburst, wanting nothing more than to hold you but knowing you won’t let him.

“What?”

“You don’t get it, do you? No, you never did” You cry silent tears as your voice comes barely above a whisper “I can’t stay here because it hurts. Everytime I’m here she’s here too, like a reminder of everything I’m not. And I’ve tried-“ you choke “I tried to look more pretty, to be more ‘girly’ and feminine, losing myself every day. Hoping that maybe you’ll notice”

“Notice what?” Michael said softly.

You let out a breath.

“That I’m in love with you, you idiot”

Michael was taken aback by your answer, but he still wasn’t letting go of your arm. You love him? That’s what’s this all about?

“But I know you don’t feel the same. You never did and you never will. After all, I’m just Y/N. Just ‘one of the boys’ am I not?” He didn’t respond “It’s okay, I came to terms with that, I wouldn’t expect you to say something anyways” You released yourself from his grip and grabbed the last bag that laid on your bed “I’ll stay with Luke tonight and I’ll pick up my stuff in a few days”

Michael shook his head, as if he just realized what you just said “Wait, you’re moving?”

“What do you want me to do, Michael? Stay here? Pretend that things will be the same after this?! Go and have a movie night with your girlfriend and say that everything’s okay when I’m tearing myself apart in front of you?” You ask out of anger “I can’t do that, Michael. I need time”

“Y/N-“

“Why do you care anyways? I’m not a main character in your life. I’m not the type of girl you would fall for, or that you would consider feminine enough. I’m not pretty enough or funny enough and I’m tired of that. I’m tired of being an afterthought”

You turned around, already reaching for the doorknob when Michael’s hand wrapped around your waist, twisting you so your back was pressed against the door and your eyes were on him.

“Y/N, you were never an afterthought” He breathed close to you.

“Michael, what are yo-“

“Stay, please” But before you could say anything else, you felt his lips on yours.

The kiss was everything you dreamed it would be. Fast, rough and passionate. His hands traveled down your spine as he deepened the kiss, getting more needy by the second. Your hands flew to his neck, bringing him even closer, wanting to feel every part of him. You wanted to let yourself go, to fill these long needed desire. But you couldn’t forget about the girl waiting in the living room.

With all the strength you could manage, you pushed Michael away from you as the tears came flooding down again.

“What the fuck is your problem?!” You spat at him in anger “You can’t do that to me. You can’t just kiss me and expect to fix everything. Who do you think I am?” You could tell he was trying to say something, but you were not in the mood to listen “I won’t let you do this to me. I won’t let you do this to her. I’m leaving, Michael. Get your shit together”

And with that, you ran through the door and didn’t look back.

A few hours later, you were settled in with Luke in his apartment. When you arrived, you asked him to please not say anything, that you weren’t ready to talk just yet. He just nodded and let you in.

You cried on his shoulders for what it felt like an eternity. Your head was pounding and your voice was hoarse. You’ve never felt so heartbroken before.

“C-can I stay here for a while? Until I find my own place?” You asked him.

“Of course, darling” Luke said, kissing your head “Take all the time you need”

You stayed like that for a while. He comforting you through your silent tears until you fell asleep.

A week passes by and you are not feeling any better. You haven’t been sleeping well and you’re barely eating despite Luke’s pleads. Ashton and Calum showed up one day to check up on you, but you still refused to talk about it. Maybe you were embarrassed, maybe the memory of that kiss was too recent, too painful to talk about. Maybe you just didn’t know how.

One night you fell asleep on the living room, the TV working as the background noise that drowned your thoughts. You were peacefully dreaming for the first time in days when the sound of muffled voices woke you up. You were still laying in the sofa, but Luke was nowhere in sight. That’s until you heard him talk.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea”

“Please, I need to talk to her” the other man pleaded.

Michael was standing at the door. He looked like a complete wreck. His hair was undone and a bit greasy from ruffling it with his fingers way too much, his eyes were bloodshot and glossy, still fighting to contain the tears in front of his friend.

“Look, man. I love you, but she doesn’t need this right now and-“

“Let him in, Luke”

The two tall men turned towards you. You were standing behind the sofa, your eyes never leaving Michael’s. Luke simply nodded and headed to his room, giving you the privacy you needed.

“I’ll be there if you need me” He said to you.

You muttered a small ‘Thank you’ to him before fixing your gaze upon Michael. He was still frozen by the door, unsure on how to say what he has to say.

Letting out a breath, you decided to break the ice “Michael-“

“I broke up with her” He said in one breath.

“You what?!”

“The night you left,,, I-I broke up with her because I couldn’t keep lying to myself anymore”

“What do you mean?”

He hesitantly took a step closer to you, afraid that he was overstepping again.

“All this time, for years, I’ve been avoiding my own feelings. Tucked them away at the farthest corner in my closet, hoping that they’ll fade soon. I couldn’t cope with them, I was too afraid to.

‘“I told myself that I was being foolish, immature and downright stupid for thinking that the girl I love would love me back. How could she? She was beautiful, shared my sense of humor, my interests and she was extremely cool. I told myself that a girl like that could never want me. But, strangely, she did, as a friend. And I was content with that, at least I would have her be part of my life.

‘“So I hid my feelings until I couldn’t see them, but that didn’t mean that I couldn’t feel them. And every day I would remind myself that she was my friend and I was beyond lucky for that. I kept letting myself down on a daily basis, trying to keep the thoughts away, hoping that one day I could believe them. But I never thought of the consequences my actions had towards the girl.

‘“Y/N, when you left I felt like I couldn’t breathe. Like a vital part of me was missing and you took it away with you. And I deserved it, I truly did. Y/N, I was an asshole”

“Michael,”

“No, I was. Hearing you say those things about yourself, like you were broken and needed to be fixed, it broke my heart, darling” His voice broke at the end, fighting helplessly to contain the tears that were burning behind his eyes “I- I never meant for you to think that I didn’t love you for who you were. That you needed to change in order to get me to like you. You shouldn’t change for anyone, love, you are absolutely perfect the way you are. You always have been and always will be.

‘“Y/N, you were never just ‘one of the boys’, you are my best friend, my soulmate and the best thing that has ever happened to me by far. I’ve always known that, but I was just too much of a coward to let it show and I’m sorry.

‘“When you told me you loved me, god. Y/N, I’ve never felt so happy and confused at the same time! I couldn’t fanthom the thought of you loving me, it seemed surreal after so many years of telling myself that it was impossible, almost like a cruel joke. But you did, and I could tell by your eyes that it was true, and I hated myself for that. I hated the fact that I was hurting you instead of loving you like I wanted to. I hated the fact that you felt like you had to leave in order for you to fix what I broke. I hated that I ruined our first kiss by a stupid impulse because you didn’t deserve that. You deserve the world and I was so scared of the fact that I might’ve lost the chance to be able to give it to you.

‘“ I broke up with her the night you left. It wasn’t fair to you, to her or to me to keep denying my feelings any longer. And I know that I don’t deserve it, but I’m standing here to ask you for forgiveness. I’m sorry that I made you feel less than you are. I’m sorry that I broke your heart. I’m sorry that I wasn’t brave enough to tell you this the moment you walked out the door that night. I will keep apologizing for the rest of my life if necessary, Y/N. But I just- I just don’t want to lose you”

You were standing in front of him. Tears rolled down your cheeks as you took in everything he said to you.

He loved you.

He loves you.

And you love him.

Michael was staring at his feet, too afraid to look up and see the disappointment in your face. To scared to lose you and everything you meant to him. Maybe coming here was a mistake, maybe you don’t want to know anything about him anymore. And he deserved that.

“Well,” You finally say, swallowing the lump in your throat “You still owe me that movie night”

His eyes light up as he saw you smiling at him. He returned it by grabbing you by the waist and pulling you closer to him. Leaning so your lips could met again.

Smiling into the kiss, you swore that you will never let go of the other again.

[lastarpeggios]

Part of the reason my appearance is so important to me is because I want to be so perfect it will become impossible not to love me.

So everything that’s imperfect about me, becomes something that actively undermines my capability of being loved. 

I know it’s not logical and that it’s a very disturbed way of viewing myself. 

But that’s also what my own history has taught me. My own evolution from a depressed teen to an insecure but happy adult was also an evolution from someone society saw as pretty much unattractive to someone that is usually regarded as ‘attractive’ (though I struggle to write this because it feels like a ruse). So I can’t help but see a link between my happiness and other people’s perception of my appearance.  

During my early twenties overcoming my depression also meant creating a version of myself that I would not consider actively ugly. I went to extreme lengths to achieve this, but in the end it did pay off. And I still contribute to this every time I go out and wear make up, or clothes that I think will look good on me, post selfies in which I think I look pretty,...  But the prospect of becoming ‘ugly’ again hangs over my head like the sword of Damocles, when I’ve eaten too much, when my hair looks greasy, now my tooth is rotting. Then my world collapses again and all that’s left is self-doubt. And then always the question follows “How could anyone love me when I am this?”

[crashdevlin]

The Color in Your Leaves

Author’s Note: I haven't written Cas in a while. And I haven't written Endverse!Cas for a one-shot so...this goes for my Endverse!Cas square for @spnkinkbingo​

Summary: Y/n gets tasked with caring for Castiel when he breaks his foot. Y/n has strong opinions about the hedonistic lifestyle the former Angel lives, strong opinions about how everyone in the Apocalypse has allowed themselves to fall. Can she help him remember who he used to be?

Pairing: Endverse!Cas x Reader

Word count: 4431

Story Warnings: Dean is an asshole, derogatory terms for lesbian, a bit of exhibitionism on Cas' part, 18+! HERE BE SEX!! DON’T READ IF YOU’RE A YOUNG’UN!!!, unprotected sex, fingering, angsty

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You had no qualifications for this. You weren't a nurse or a doctor. You weren't a caregiver of any kind. You were a weapons expert. You were volun-told by the boss man. General Winchester needed his right hand man back on his feet as soon as possible, which meant sending in someone to take care of him, keep him off of his feet until he healed.

There were two dozen women who went to the General and begged for the opportunity, the privilege, of caring for Castiel, but Dean Winchester was smart enough to see their desire to help as just plain desire. "Needs to focus on his health, not getting his dick wet. That's why you're gonna do it, Y/n."

"Because I didn't volunteer?" you questioned.

"Because you're a lesbian. You won't care about anything except caring for him and keeping him off that bum foot 'til it heals."

You were not, in fact, a lesbian. You were very attracted to men. You were just the only woman in camp who turned down Dean's advances so you got labeled. It wasn’t that Dean was unattractive, either, he was just an asshole. Most survivors were. Even the former Angel you were charged with helping used his aura of celestial wisdom to lure women into bed with him. It was disheartening. If this was what was left of humanity, then what was the point?

You knocked on the doorframe holding up the beads that were his front door. He went full hippie when he went full human. Drugs, women, indulgence, and 'why not?' you overheard him tell Chuck once. "Why not load up on this stuff? The closest I'll ever get to Heaven again is when I reach nirvana with the help of amphetamines and a good orgasm."

An Angel.

You rolled your eyes as he called out, "Come in!" You stepped through the beads and sighed. "Bedroom!" he shouted, answering your query of his location before you could ask it.

You twisted the doorknob and pushed the door to the bedroom open, gasping as your eyes fell on him and Nadia, both very naked and midcoitus. "Oh my god!" You twirled on the balls of your feet and slammed the door. As soon as the shock wore off, you were pissed. He had no fucking decency! She had no decency! The world might have ended but that wasn't okay! You don't call someone into your bedroom when you're in the middle of- "Our fearless leader sent me here to play nursemaid and specifically said he doesn't want you getting laid until you're healed, Castiel, so Nadia needs to get her damn clothes on and get the fuck out of here. Now!" you shouted through the door.

You could hear the grumbling from her as she grabbed her clothes. Castiel's voice was murmuring promises to her, but you couldn’t hear the words. Nadia glared at you as she stomped out of the room. "Bitch, don't even," you snapped before turning halfway toward the door. "Castiel, I'm coming in. Please respect that I have no desire to see your nakedness. Cover up, please."

“I’m covered,” he called, an air of amusement to his words. You rolled your eyes as you walked in and started gathering dirty clothes from his floor, avoiding looking at him on the bed just in case. “You know, modesty is such an archaic ideal to hold onto, don’t you think?”

“Well, modesty might seem archaic to you, but choice is not and I choose not to be indecent just because the world has ended. I choose not to sleep around the entire camp just because it’s easier to fuck everything away than it is to dwell on it. I think that’s being stronger than getting stoned out of my mind to ignore it like you do,” you snapped.

Blue eyes narrowed as he leaned forward, glaring slightly. You couldn’t help but notice the way that his chest hair showed through his open flannel. “You think you’re stronger than me because you choose to let everyone believe you’re a lesbian?”

A shock of indignation went through you as you rolled his clothes into a ball and tucked them under your arm. “I don’t see the point in correcting them. It’s not like I’m courting a relationship with any of these assholes around camp. You and Dean and Spencer and Tallman and all of the rest of the jerks around this place who think the surviving women are left to bring you pleasure and nothing more, what the hell would I want to deal with that for?” you growled. “Only downside is I get put on bullshit duties like this, taking care of a literal celestial being who couldn’t manage to land right after a second-story jump and broke his damn foot.”

You licked your lips and looked away from him. “I think I’m stronger than you because I didn’t lose myself as soon as the Earth went to Hell,” you answered his earlier question before looking away. “I hope you like oatmeal. I’m gonna go set these to soak and I’ll bring you your breakfast.” You stomped out of his bedroom, through the beads, and out to the laundry bucket outside. “Asshole.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You spent as little time as possible at Castiel’s cabin. You found other things to do, away from his prying blue eyes and the stench of cannabis and only went in to feed him, clean his cabin and bring in the basin of hot water for him to clean himself. After the fifth veiled request for you to help him bathe, you started dropping the bowl at the end of the bed and walking out without a word.

“How can you try to cling to what you used to be?” he asked suddenly as you handed him a bowl of beans and hot dogs. It was the first time he approached the subject without the judgment in his tone. “I’m curious.”

You sighed and rubbed at the back of your neck. “Lucifer, he...his whole thing is that we’re broken, right? Humans, we’re broken. We’re flawed and murderous and corrupted, that we were a waste of the Father’s time and effort. That He should have stopped after He created Earth or whatever. So, Lucifer took the Earth, set Hell upon us, and we all crumbled. We let fear and anger and hopelessness turn us into exactly what Lucifer said we were. We let him be right and that’s something I just can’t...I can’t let Lucifer be right about me.”

Castiel blinked a few times before looking away, a look akin to shame on his face. “You’re insightful.”

“Don’t think I don’t understand why it happened, though. I know why it’s enticing to be...selfish and chase pleasures of the flesh. I get the allure of...the baser things when you know that...but there was a time when…” You looked away and shook your head. “I’m just not okay with letting go of that.”

“That is…” Castiel sighed. “I feel I might be quite different if I’d had your perspective when I lost my connection to Heaven.”

“Far as I can tell, Castiel, I’m the only one alive with this perspective. Don’t feel bad about it,” you said, before nodding at his bowl. “Eat up. I’ll be back for the bowl in a while.”

You ducked out of his room before he could continue the conversation. Something about having an honest conversation with the Angel was disarming. The wall you put up to keep yourself from getting too close to the degenerates in camp felt like it was cracking and you couldn’t deal with that.

"What happened to your family?" Castiel asked when you came to retrieve the bowl.

"Same thing that happened to lots of families," you dismissed, your abs clenching, reacting to the question like a literal punch to the gut.

“Croats?” he asked, softly.

“No,” you said, looking down at the floor. “A group of large, angry, normal human beings who wanted the food we were more than willing to share.” You cleared your throat. “I’ll, uh, see you in-”

“How did you get away from the ‘large, angry, normal human beings’?” he asked, not relinquishing the bowl when you moved to take it.

You ran your tongue over your teeth and forced yourself to swallow down the feeling of rage that took you. “I was saved,” you answered.

“By?”

“By a man who...expected me to show my appreciation...said he only saved me because he couldn’t see wasting a body like mine.”

Castiel nodded knowingly as you started toward the door. “Lucifer was right about some humans, but…” You stopped at the door. “...you are an exception.”

“I wasn’t an exception when I put my last bullet through his skull,” you said, before walking out. You could get the bowl in the morning.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You could almost feel the change in the atmosphere when you showed up the next morning with breakfast. The old smell of weed lingered, but you couldn’t smell anything new. He didn’t smoke his morning joint, which was weird. Smoking was always the first thing he did when he woke up.

He was sitting up in his bed. His hair was combed, his shirt actually buttoned. He looked almost like he was trying to clean up a bit. He smiled as you entered the room, handing his bowl of oatmeal to him and picking up the bowl from the night before where he put it on the floor.

“Good morning, Y/n.”

“Good morning, Castiel.”

You nodded to him as he picked up the oatmeal. He chuckled. “You know, you can call me ‘Cas’. Everyone else does.”

“They do that because Dean has set an example. I follow my own lead. But if you want me to call you ‘Cas’, I’ll do that,” you offered, grabbing his shirt and pants from the day before off of the floor and hanging them over your arm.

“I’d like you to call me whatever you wish, Y/n. Profanities aside, of course,” he said, smiling a bit. You couldn’t help but smile back.

“I personally like ‘Castiel’. Nothing wrong with reminding you where you came from.” You shook your head and chuckled. “When I moved out of my parents’ place, my dad said ‘You can move on and grow big, but the ground you grew in will always put some of that color in your leaves.’ Sometimes, you gotta look at your leaves and remember the ground you grew in.”

He looked perplexed for a minute before nodding. “Heaven is the ground I grew in...and my name is the color of my leaves.” You nodded, smiling brightly. “Feathers might be more apt.”

You laughed. “Maybe, but then it wouldn’t be the thing my dad said. Enjoy your breakfast, Castiel. I’ll have your clothes folded when I get back.”

“I could help with that, if you bring them back first. I’m not doing much besides sitting here.”

You thought about it a minute before you nodded. “Sure,” you responded before walking out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You almost hated the fact that Castiel was so charming once you got past the drugs and indulgences. What other man could make you laugh while you were folding a pile of clothes? Or make your cheeks get hot from a lingering look? What man could make your skin tingle with a brush of his hand?

“He almost healed?” Dean asked at the end of the first month as you exited the beads. No pleasantries, no greeting.

“He can stand on it, but he’s still got a limp when he walks. He needs another couple weeks,” you responded. You were guessing about the length of time, but it seemed like the right number.

“He good, though? Hasn’t been sneakin’ chicks, I know that much.”

“Because you’ve been paying so much attention to your best friend?” you snapped.

He pursed his lips a bit and his eyebrows came together a bit. “And what is that supposed to mean?”

“We’ve talked a lot the last month that you’ve had me caring for him. I’ve seen pieces of the man, sorry Angel, he used to be. You let a perfect celestial being become a...a junkie.”

His eyebrows jumped up indignantly. “I let him? You think I let Cas become-”

“I think if you had cared a little bit more about him, he wouldn’t be like that. He wouldn’t chase skirts like you do and-and chase highs. I found what I’m pretty sure is heroin under his bed and you let-”

“Cas is a big boy. He can take care of himself, Y/n.”

You nodded and smiled tightly. “Then he can take care of himself.”

“That’s not what I-” Dean growled.

“I know it’s not,” you interrupted. You shook your head, sadness filling your eyes as you looked upon the great and powerful Michael Sword. “But he obviously can’t, Dean. He obviously needed help adjusting and you were all he had and you did let him fall to pleasures of the flesh and chemical indulgences. That’s on you.”

Dean looked at you with rage simmering in his eyes for a minute before he chuckled and bit into his bottom lip harsh enough that you thought he might start bleeding. “Here I was, thinkin’ you’re a carpetmuncher but you just don’t like me.” You looked away, your jaw ticking as he stepped closer, radiating the same sort of energy the first man you killed gave off. “Someone’s got a crush on our resident seraph, huh?”

“So what?”

“So now I know why Cas hasn’t had Tallman bringin’ him any of his weed crop the last couple weeks. Cas is tryin’ to do better for you...and I’m pretty sure the whole reason I gave you this duty was to avoid those kinda entanglements.” He took a step back and turned toward his own cabin. “You’re done. I’ll get someone else on Cas duty. Stay out of his cabin. Go find another place to make yourself useful.”

You didn’t even have a chance to argue it before he disappeared into his cabin.

You were livid. Not only because of the way Dean Winchester spoke to you but because you were taken off of the duty you lamented and because Dean knew you weren’t a lesbian as he assumed.

And Castiel was interested...enough that he wasn’t smoking as much as he used to. You refused to believe that you were the reason for that, but Dean seemed so certain.

It didn’t matter.

Nothing really mattered.

You went back to your cabin. It was good. It was a good thing that someone else would have to deal with Castiel. You would be able to put your walls back up. You’d be able to stifle that pesky emotion you were starting to feel for the junkie Angel. It was good.

So why did it hurt you so much?

You went back to work making bullets, cleaning and caring for the camp’s weapons. That was more your speed. Just you and the beautiful, intricate, deadly pieces of machinery.

You felt eyes on you more often as you walked through camp. You felt like people were judging you more now that the camp knew you weren’t a lesbian than they had when they thought you were a lesbian. Probably because they knew that you were judging them for their descent.

You were in your cabin working on a beautiful Colt .45 when a knock came to your door. No one ever came to see you. It just wasn’t done. You set the pistol on the table and stood, walking over to the door and opening it just a few inches. Castiel was on your little porch. His hair was clean and he was wearing clean clothes. He smiled a little when you opened the door a little more. “Castiel. D-do you need something?”

“Need? No. But I would like to come inside,” he said with a smile. You bit your bottom lip and stepped out of the way. He nodded and took two steps past the threshold, allowing you to shut the door behind him. The smell of weed followed him into your small space. “I wasn’t able to thank you for helping me.”

“It was a bit abrupt, how Dean sent…” You cleared your throat. “Tallman in to take over, but that was fine. I...I’m better off…” You licked your lips and walked over to the table. “I’m good with guns.”

“You were doing pretty good with me too, though, weren’t you?”

You swallowed and sat down in your creaky wooden chair, picking up your cleaning cloth. “Too good for our fearless leader’s liking.”

“Dean, he’s...he’s complicated.”

“Not really. He wants you drugged up and drowning in pussy because it’s easier for him to toss away his guilt if you’re enjoying the human condition.” You shrugged. “Or at least appearing to enjoy the human condition.”

“I’ve accused you of being insightful in the past, haven’t I?” he asked and you nodded, avoiding catching his eyes. You didn’t want your wall to crumble again. Not after spending two weeks building it back up again. “Well, I feel that you were very helpful and I-”

“You don’t need to thank me or any of that, Castiel. I was just doing what I was charged with doing. Just, um, stay safe next time you go out. Try not to jump out any windows.”

He scoffed and shook his head. “You seem to have completely tossed away every bit of goodwill you had toward me. Why?”

“Because I can’t like you. It’s that simple.” You set the cloth down on the table and started picking at a loose thread on the edge of it. “Not only is it a vulnerable position to put myself in, but the inkling of possibility that I might like you caused Dean to forbid me from entering your cabin. I can’t imagine what he’d do if he found out I disobeyed him and-”

“We’re not in my cabin, Y/n. You can be nice to me here.” You swallowed as he moved forward and cupped your face between both of his hands. "You're allowed to like me. I know you have strong opinions about the 'junkie Angel' but you don't have to feel bad about liking me."

"Yes, I do." The warmth of his hands on your skin made your eyes flutter closed. "Because you are a man who gives your body without even-"

"You're the only woman to receive my touch since Nadia, Y/n...and I would love for you to touch me." He chuckled and you opened your eyes to look up into his. "It just isn't as satisfying to touch myself to thoughts of you."

Any other man saying those words would have pissed you off. It would have disgusted you. But from Castiel’s deep gravel, it made you feel weak...and letting go seemed like the best option. You stood, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him down into a kiss. He smiled against your lips and started pulling at your t-shirt. He tasted like weed but you didn’t mind, for some reason.

It didn’t take long for you to be tangled up on your bed, tongues rolling across each other as your hands roamed your bodies. When the fingers of his left hand found your slit, you gasped into his mouth and put a hand on his shoulder. “It’s...I haven’t...it’s been…”

“I know. I’ll go slow, Y/n.” He kissed and nibbled at your shoulder as he started rubbing at your clit. "Your body is a gift. I'm humbled to receive it," he mumbled into your skin.

"Fuck," you whispered as his middle finger dipped into you. Too many years of celibacy made you oversensitive and touch starved. The whimper of his name was lost in his lips as you kissed him, pushing your hands into his hair and rolling your hips against his hand as he used that finger to explore your inner cavern.

"So wet. So tight. So beautiful," he praised as you dropped your head back into your pillow and stared up into his sapphire eyes. You were breathless as he slowly ramped you up with just a single finger working inside of you.

"Oh my god!" you squealed as he found that spongy patch inside of you that you barely knew the location of. "Right there, Castiel! Right there! Fuck!"

"It's going to be an honor to make you fall apart, Y/n. No other man here has had the privilege and you're granting me the-"

"You're not a man," you said, words rushing out of you clenched around his finger, arching your back.

He let out a soft gasp and kissed you, slow and sweet as he brought you to the first orgasm given to you by someone else in almost five years.

"You're the only one who still treats me like an Angel," he whispered as he worked you through the orgasm.

"You have a cult of foll-" you started, but he shook his head.

"They idolize me but they don't see me," he whispered against your lips before leaning back and looking into your eyes. "To them, I'm nothing more than the...Apocalypse's last b-list celebrity. To you, I'm still divine. To you...I'm still the color in my leaves."

"You are, Castiel."

You leaned up and pressed your lips to his as he covered your body with his own. The warmth of a body weighing you down, the feel of lips against yours, the way his fingertips dug into your ass as he maneuvered your hips into the position he needed you...it was everything you dreamed it would be when you were trying to keep him out of your mind and he invaded your sleep.

His breath against your ear as he grunted and moaned, his beard rubbing your skin, pushing you closer to the nirvana you heard him talking about so many months ago, it sent shivers down your spine. It was perfect. He was perfect. He was divine.

"I'm almost...almost there," he grunted, sealing his lips over the bolt of your jaw and sucking lightly.

"Please. Angel, please. I wanna feel it." Those words and the whiny, mewling, small quality of them, they barely sounded like you at all.

"Fuck," he groaned, his hands tightening their grip on your hips and his cock twitching as he started to cum. He took gasping breaths to calm himself as he pulled back to look at you. "You were every bit as wonderful as I expected, Y/n."

Your cheeks were already warm from the sex but they turned burning hot from the way he was looking at you. "You...were amazing, Castiel."

He ran his fingers almost lovingly across your cheek. "I mean it. I've had women with much more experience who were not even close to as good as you."

"Thank you," you whispered, looking away from him. You didn’t want to be reminded of his many, many sexual partners.

He let out a gasp as he pulled out of you and dropped to your bed beside you. "You are spectacular," he said, pulling you to lie against his chest. You sighed contentedly and closed your eyes, taking comfort in his warmth.

Which was gone when you woke up.

"Hope you don't mind," Dean's voice cut through the haze of sleep to force you to wake with a jolt, immediately concerned with whether you were covered. "You're the only one with beer right now and I needed a few for the party."

"Party?" you asked, turning your head to look at him but keeping your body front-down on the bed. He was sitting in the chair in the corner of your room, a six pack of Coors in his lap.

"Cas' girls wanted me to throw him a little 'Welcome back' thing. I figure, it's the least I can do after cockblockin' 'em the last six weeks, ya know?"

Cas' girls. Cas' cultists. Cas' harem. Cas' far more experienced women.

"Right. Least you could do." You swallowed and bit the inside of your cheek. "I don't mind sharing, but am I at least invited?"

Dean sucked in a hissing breath and grimaced mockingly. "Ah, sorry, sweetheart. I would invite you, but you've gotta hit a supply run with Spencer into Detroit."

"Detroit? That's a fucking red zone! And I'm not a scavenger!" you exclaimed, sitting up and wrapping your blanket around you.

"You are whatever I say you are, Y/n, and I say you're going to Detroit so you're going."

"Is this punishment for not fucking you, Dean?" you snapped.

"No, this is a job," he answered, standing up, cradling the beer in the crook of his elbow. "And if I were punishing you, it wouldn't be because you didn't wanna fuck me, Anne Heche, it'd be because you're changing Cas. If I needed an Angel, I'd'a said yes to Michael. I need my right hand man and you're fucking with that so if I were punishing you, which I'm not, it'd be because you couldn't mind your own business for six weeks and someone's gotta teach you a lesson in Nunya."

He glared down at you. "If you make it back, you'll be on night guard duty at the gate and you'll get to hear Cas' moonlight orgies. But you won't get to come near him and you won't get to influence him anymore, you hear me?" He smiled and lifted the arm with the beer. "Now, if you'll excuse me. You gotta get ready to roll out to Detroit...and Cas and I gotta fuck a half a dozen crazy hippie bitches. I expect you gone in thirty."

You let out an indignant scoff as he walked out of your cabin. You hoped Cas would stop him, say something to save you, but as you stomped toward the gate twenty minutes later to join Spencer at his Jeep, you could hear music and laughter from Cas' cabin. Cas and Dean's laughter and giggling from his women. Too much to hope that you'd truly affected the Angel. Too much to hope that you were more than just a notch on his belt. Too much to hope there was enough green in his leaves to combat all the post-apocalyptic brown.

You didn't say a word as Spencer turned on the Jeep and drove out the gates, driving you to your death.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Kitchen Sink - @emoryhemsworth​ @flamencodiva​ @wasabiwitteks​ @rainbowkisses31​ @rissbennett @mariekoukie6661​ @officiallyunofficialperson​ @dolphincliffs​ @mrs-meghan-winchester​ @gayspacenerd​ @foxyjwls007​ @ilovefanfic86​ @marvelfansworld​ @f-yeahfandoms​ @wonderlandfandomkingdom​ @hhiggs​ @sev3nruby​  @hobby27​ @paintballkid711​ @divadinag​ @thewhiterabbit42​ @fantasymyth-1 @queenoftheunderdark​ @cosicas-cuquis @superfanficnatural​ @letsby​ @supernatural-bellawinchester​ @onethirstyunicorn​ @swinchester27​ @chalicia​ @sunnyroadtrips​ @screechingartisancashbailiff​ @death-unbecomes-you​ @dayasvalkyrie​ @paryl​ @wereallbrokenangels​ @the-american-witch​ @that-one-gay-girl​ @tatted-trina6​ @sunshineandwings86 Hunter Tags - @atc74​ @sandlee44​ @spnbaby-67​ @kalesrebellion​ @tumbler-tidbits​ @hoboal87​ @stoneyggirl​ @kbl1313​ @cookiechipdough​ @mrswhozeewhatsis​ @winchesterxfamilybusiness​ @holylulusworld​ @pretty-fortune​ @screechingartisancashbailiff​ @we-are-all-a-bunch-of-idjits​ @imperiusimpala​ @supernaturalenchanted​ @blueaura​ @quxxnxfhxll​ @bucky-babygirl​

[spooky-luvur]

Could y'all write an Arthur fic with the reader being a fan and got sucked into the game and kinda mouthed off to colm and gets himself captured :O

This was really fun lol

———

“Well,”

You turn in circles, putting your hands on your hips. “At least I don’t have to worry about taxes.”

The people in town stare, obviously, and whisper, but they don’t point and they don’t yell or do something else mean someone from modern day Detroit would do. You’re not exactly blending in with your current clothes.

But really...what the fuck? Last thing you remember is turning the gaming console off, taking a shower, then you think you hit your head when you stumbled but it definitely wasn’t hard enough to send you through time???

You reach the edge of the dusty town and pause, looking over the vast land. Nice fields. No factories in sight. You try to remember every little detail...sat on the left side of the couch...used the controller to turn the console on...picked the game-

...

Oh shit.

Of course.

You were playing the second Red Dead Redemption.

Balls, how in the-!

It’s fine, it’s fine. This is cool, actually.

You don’t bother to hide your grin and unbelieving laugh, raking your hands through your hair. This is cool as shit! You were so interested in the 19-20th century anyway and to be *living* in it?! Damn. But we’re you just in the century, or was I in the game too?

You turn back to the small town and take a good look around, eyes falling onto a large white parlor house. It’s Rhodes! Incredible. Excited like a little kid on Christmas, you hurriedly make your way back into town, taking everything in and spinning in circles like some lunatic.

The general store, the gun shop with that guy locked in the basement- wait a minute.

When in the game was it? If you were magically set in Rhodes wouldn’t that mean the gang was at the camp by the lake? What’s it called, Clemens Point? Clement? But you didn’t really know how to get there from here, and even if you did somehow manage to find it, you’d likely be shot on sight. But you’re inside your favorite game. It only makes sense you’d want to meet and bond with the main characters.

With a stomach full of butterflies, you set off onto the road leading out of town, hoping to stumble upon something- or someone.

———

God, it was hot. Why was it so hot? Damn sun, making me all sweaty and gross. Don’t you have better things to do?

Pulling at your collar, you stop to rest for a few minutes, surrounded by the tall trees. Okay, there’s the water, the stones, old dilapidated church or whatever that is, the sound of a gun cocking, the nice breeze- wait.

“Put your hands up, boy.”

Great. Great. Great. You put your hands up by your head, mentally cursing yourself and everyone who’s ever existed. You didn’t know that voice and that voice didn’t know you.

“You got any cash? Jewelry? Guns?”

“No, I don’t. I got nothing.”

“Bullshit, turn around!”

Slowly turning, you’re met with the barrel of a gun and a very rowdy-looking man. Two other men with guns also pointed at you are a few feet behind him.

“I know you got somethin, your clothes are reeeeeal fancy mister.”

“You can check, but I ain’t got nothin, mister.” Yeah. That’s right. You tried to make yourself sound more cowboy-y, and by the looks of it, he bought it. He did look kinda dumb. No offense, cowboy. Or whatever you were.

The dirty man scoffs. “You ain’t-“

“Come on now boy, it wouldn’t be smart to hide things from us now would it?”

Another guy? Damn, was he hot at least- ohhhhhh. Ohhhhh shit. Oh shit oh shit.

Colm O’Driscoll stares you right in the face, a small, evil smirk on his own. Ugly fucker.

“We’ll ask you again, friend. Do you got anything?”

“I said no damnit! God do your looks match your brain?? Horrible?? Well that wasn’t a very good insult but damn you fugly!!”

The men glance at each other white you babble on.

“My grandpa looks finer than you and he’s dust! Ha! Musty motherfucker- you look like my foot!”

“Enough outta you!”

Colm O’Dick grabs you by the front of your collar and yanks you forward, pushing you onto the dirt.

“Tie him up and bring him back. Maybe we’ll cut out that dirty little tongue of his.”

Damn.

———

Ugh, shit.

The throbbing in your head blurs your vision for several moments. When you finally blink it away, you whine and hang your head from the numerous spots of pain blooming all over your body. Hanging from your bloodied worth’s in just your underwear, feet barley brushing the dirt-covered floor. You remember what happened last night. They beat you, burned you, poked and prodded, nearly poisoned you if Colm hadn’t stopped them, saying something like “it would kill him too quick.”

Damn, if this was how it was always gonna be, you wanted to go back home.

You didn’t know what time it was. Or if it was any more than just a day. You were in some kind of cracked stone walled, rat shit covered basement. A single candle is lit on the blood stained table with a variety of things that make you go ‘ouch.’

Using nearly all your strength to lift your head, you try to find a door or something else you could crawl through. There’s a moldy door in front of you. Seemingly unlocked.

“God, I can’t get down,” you mumble, nearly out of hope. This was supposed to be your story! Your special adventure! Filled with love and drama and literally anything but you getting tortured by men who stink like piss!

The door suddenly starts clicking, and you squeeze your eyes shut the best you can. Was it the dirty men? Or your hero? Heroine? A crazy hermit? The door swings aside, making you cautiously crack your heavy eyes open. Oh please be hot please be hot please be-

“Hey! They got someone!”

Hot.

Your jaw nearly embarrassingly falls open as a man in a pretty blue shirt puts his gun down and pulls out a knife. Hot murder man? Yes please-

“You a prisoner?”

“Sure,” is all you manage.

The man comes closer to cut the ropes suspending you and yes, like in the movies, you can’t really hold yourself up therefore fall forward again the chest of the wow you’re buff.

“You alright, boy?”

Call me that again please.

“Fine, fine.”

Hands gripping the sleeves of the pretty blue shirt, your lift your head to see your hunk of a hero, only to come face-to-face the Arthur fucking Morgan.

Of course, that’s when you pass out.

———

“Is he dead?”

“What? No Jack, he ain’t dead.”

“But he’s all bloody.”

“Damn O’Driscoll’s. He’s just a boy. Lenny’s age.”

You’re like, 23 thank you very much.

“What’re we supposed to do with him?”

“He’s nearly dead, we gotta keep him here for now. Now shoo! All you got chores! Get!”

Something warm and wet yet scratchy is dabbed onto your forehead and a few spots around your face, making you sigh lightly.

Your eyes felt like heavy weights, but you eventually got them open. You wanted to see what was going on really badly.

A Susan Grimshaw. In your face.

Your eyes widen only barely and a very unattractive noise sounding like a confused cat escaped your mouth. The old woman’s brow furrows.

“Hush, boy. I ain’t hurting you.”

Blinking, you look around without moving your head. You were in a tent, on a cot, in your underwear, a random shirt that went past your butt, I’m keeping this forever, and your body hurt very much.

“I’m alright, ma’am,” you look into Grimshaw’s pretty eyes.

She huffs. “Like hell. But fine, you can get up. Nothings broken.”

She leaves the tent, making you slowly swing your bare legs over the side and hoist yourself up, staggering out as well.

“Ugh,” shielding your eyes from the harsh sun, you take a deep breath that makes your chest ache. Welcome to the 19th century, (M/n).

“You’re awake, my boy. How are you feeling?”

It’s too early for this shi-

Never mind it’s never too early for Dutch Van der Linde.

You nod, blinking up at the raven-haired man.

“Just fine, sir. Thank you for saving me. I thought I was a goner.”

“No thanks needed, my boy. I got a sayin’: we shoot fellers as need shooting, save fellers as need saving, and feed ‘em as need feeding. I’m sure we all know, just what you need.”

You really just heard that.

“Oh, I have an idea.”

Dutch laughs, patting your shoulder. “Mr. Pearson! Get this fine boy some food! What’s your name, son?”

“(M/n). (M/n) (L/n).”

“Well Mr. (L/n), do you mind telling us what you were doing all bloody and bruised in Colm O’Driscoll’s basement?” He uses the hand on your shoulder to guide you further to the center of camp.

“I got captured once they realized I didn’t have any money. They beat me good.”

“Yes, well, let’s hope nothing of the sort ever happens again.”

Pearson comes over and places a hot bowl of stew in your shaky hands, nodding at you before heading off.

“Ladies! Would you please help (M/n) get some food in his belly, he’s not too good right now,”

Mary-Beth hurries over, cupping your hands around the bowl to keep it from falling. “Course, Dutch. Come along now...”

———

“Okay, you can do this, come on. You know everything about him! Everything...about...them...”

You shake your head to get rid of the negative thoughts, straightening your back. “Okay, let’s go.”

You keep your eyes locked on Arthur, your target, as you march over to where he’s sitting on his bed, nose buried in his journal. Wow this is really happening-

“Excuse me?”

Way to sound like a 14 year old girl (M/n). Your heart nearly stops once the burly man looks up, blue-green eyes meeting your own. He doesn’t say anything, only stares at you expectingly. You wrong to hands nervously.

“Um...I just wanted to say thank you. For helping me, you know.”

He nods. “You’re welcome.”

You panic, not wanting to lose his attention.

“Dutch said I could stay! With you...er, with the gang! Dutch said I could stay with the gang, they don’t really see me as a threat, so...” your voice trails off.

“Well, that’s great. They’re good people, don’t mess it up.”

“Of course! I’m very grateful, I just...was hoping I could see more of you...?”

No, you definitely weren’t asking him out. Yet.

Arthur looks at you weirdly, before quietly chuckling and turning back to his journal.

“Sure, kid.”

I’m in love.

———

That night, the gang is celebrating a new edition. You weren’t like Kieran. You weren’t nothing bad, neither. Most of them actually trust you already. Thankfully. Those who don’t, weren’t celebrating. Or it was all just an excuse to get blackout drunk

You believed it to be the latter when you left the log by the fire and no one noticed. Everyone kept singing and ‘celebrating.’ Pausing by one of the tents, you slightly duck back behind it. The radio in Dutch’s tent was quietly singing an opera song, and Dutch and Miss Molly O’Shea we’re gently dancing along, gazing into each other’s eyes with the look of the lovers. Good for them. They deserve it. It makes you smile sadly.

You retreat and continue looking around all the tents and everything. Where’s Arthur? He wasn’t at the fire. He’s not in his tent either. Or, wagon. Lean-to? Whatever, but you can’t find him. You circle around the edge of camp for a bit until you find him behind the big tree near the horses.

“Arthur?”

He looks away from the sky and at you.

“Hey, (M/n).”

“Hey Arthur,” you take a few steps closer. “Not a party person?”

He shrugs. “Not tonight, I guess.”

“That’s a shame. I was...hoping you’d might care to dance? With me?”

It takes him a few moments to realize just what you said but once he does, he open his mouth in surprise.

“What?”

You hold out a hand, giving him a mischievous grin.

He shakes his head, looking away for a moment before back at you, pushing himself off the tree.

“What the hell.”

When he takes your hand, it feels like it was meant to be. Where you were meant to be. When you were meant to be! Call you crazy, but with this? Dancing to nearly inaudible music with a fictional cowboy on the outskirts of the camp containing the people that saved you from other fictional outlaws? You never wanted anything more.

[petals-and-bullets]

Insecurities

Pairing: Izzy x Reader

Word Count: 2326

Info: Anon request! ‘Hello if you have time could you please write a smut and fluff fic with Izzy where Izzy is feeling really self conscious like maybe he doesn’t like his nose or his appearance and he doesn’t think he’s good enough for the reader but she reassures him that he’s perfect 💕 ‘

A/N: Sorry for taking so long! This is my longest fic yet, so I hope you all enjoy it!  💕 💕

There were two things he missed about being high; the high, for one, but the confidence that seemed to surround him whenever he did a line. He could just walk around with no fear of its repercussions; he wasn’t afraid of anything. Hell, he was brave enough to start dealing, but as the years passed and the band started to get its claws in the music industry, he fell deeper into the embrace of the same thing he was dealing. It wasn’t until he saw maggots in a drawer full of screws that he realised he had fallen in too deep.

Perhaps becoming sober was a good thing. It meant a lot for one special person – you. He could tell in your body language that you were far more relaxed and actually happy that he was sober whenever he was with you. He wasn’t hidden in the darker corners of the house, his eyes drooping as his head lolled. It made you actually enjoy spending time with him, let alone actually have a chance to get to know him. The real him, not just the same Izzy that was plastered on the front pages of Rolling Stone and Kerrang!. The only thing that seemed to be a problem was Izzy’s libido. He seemed to be happy to kiss and hold you as close as he could, but he just seemed to avoid doing anything further than that. It… Frightened you. You immediately looked to yourself, wondering if he had stumbled across someone else while he was on tour and had fallen in love with them instead. Then, after a week or so of self-doubt, you realised it probably wasn’t you. It was the first time in years that Izzy was actually sober. Perhaps he just… didn’t have an interest in sex anymore.

You shook the hair out of your eyes as you finished drying the plate in your hand, the man in question sitting quietly behind you at the kitchen table. A cigarette hung loosely between his lips, and he was hunched over what seemed to be a magazine – and you knew immediately what he was reading. Since his departure, the media had seemed to hound him, egged on by the anger of Axl and Slash, who offered insults and unclear excuses for his leaving. You didn’t blame them; Axl had been one of Izzy’s closest friends since they were kids, and Slash and Izzy got along like a house on fire.

But Izzy had been collapsing under it all, and it wasn’t like he had woken up one morning and decided he’d had enough.

A sigh escaped you as you placed the plate in the cupboard, tossing the towel over your shoulder before you gently pulled the magazine away from him, your lips bowing into a frown at the rather unattractive photo they had used of him – it was probably when he was arrested for pissing on a plane. That wasn’t a pleasant experience for you to learn about, sitting in a police station at 2.30 in the morning in your pyjamas while listening to your boyfriend ramble and rave about how he hadn’t done anything wrong, and claims of drug-induced paranoia.

“Iz, baby, you don’t have to read this shit. It’s not important.”

“They’re acting like I’ve killed the band.”

“Let them. They’re upset and confused, and you said it yourself; Slash’s drug addiction and Duff’s drinking is going to kill them before the band itself dies. You’d only blame yourself for that, and then you’d be back on the drugs.”

You tilted your head as your boyfriend sighed, and you frowned before you moved to sit in his lap, gently brushing his hair from his face. Despite the tender gesture, he almost flinched from your delicate touch, and his face gave way to a grimace as if he suddenly couldn’t stand being touched by you. After a few moments of watching him, you sighed and got up, catching the towel that slid off your shoulder in the process.

“I’ll finish cleaning up,” you murmured, and you watched as he heaved a sigh and left the room.

Once everything was scrubbed clean and put away, then reorganised, you headed up the stairs with the full intention of having a shower and then heading to bed. The bathroom door was slightly ajar when you entered the bedroom, and you could faintly see steam slipping out through the crack; Izzy must’ve grabbed a shower while you were washing the dishes, you supposed, but you stopped at the sight of him hesitantly touching his nose and then the rest of his face. His brows were furrowed as low as they could go, and his lips curled into the same grimace that he showed whenever he was forced into an interview that he didn’t want to attend.

Then it hit you. The shying away, the avoidance of even talking about sex – his sobriety may have given you back your Izzy, but it also dragged up uncomfortable thoughts and insecurities.

“You’re gorgeous,” you spoke up, stepping into the bathroom and closed the door behind you. He looked at you with a raised brow, almost in annoyance, before he turned his gaze back to the mirror, swiping his hand over the glass to wipe away the condensation in order to glower at the pair of hazel eyes staring back.

“I’m not joking, Izzy. You are.”

“Y/N, darling, you don’t have to keep up the act. You can just admit you’re tired of me and go.”

“Izzy. Stop it. I’m serious,” you walked forward, and gently guided his hand from his face before you replaced it with your own, your fingertips dancing over his skin gently. His cheeks had filled out a little more, and his eyes weren’t as sunken as they had been in the past. Sobriety really did do wonders for him, you mused, before you allowed your lips to follow the trail your fingertips left. His cheeks were warm, and the soft sound of his breathing only lulled you into continuing your tenderness more, not even hesitating before you trailed your kisses down his sharp jaw and his neck, your hands moving to finish unbuttoning the blouse hanging loosely off his torso. Once your task was complete, you slid the fabric from his shoulders and let it drop onto the floor, only for it to be joined with his belt and jeans. Izzy seemed to have relaxed more under your ministrations, and his hands rose to grab at your hips gently, pulling you closer in order to press his own kisses along the bridge of your nose and your cheeks.

“… Still haven’t showered, you know,” he murmured against your skin, before he leaned down to press his nose into the crook of your neck, inhaling the faint scent of your perfume. It was one of his favourite scents; you smelled like home, like his mom, like everything that was right in the world. It was soothing.

“That can wait. Come on,” you responded, before you grabbed his hand and pulled him into the bedroom, your lips curved into a warm smile at the sight of a genuinely relaxed Izzy, and you guided him to sit on the bed before perching in his lap delicately. His hands slid up and down your thighs gently as you watched each other, not yet wanting to break the peaceful silence that hung in the air. After a few more moments of staring at each other, you leaned in and pressed your lips against his gently, your hands rising to grip at his shoulders as his fingertips wandered closer to your core.

The pair of you kissed slowly and tenderly, taking your time; after all, there were no more interviews, concerts, photoshoots, or tours to rip him from you. No, it was just the two of you in the dark room, the faint taste of tobacco staining his lips. He pulled away for a moment, his hazel eyes regarding your face curiously before he suddenly pushed you to lie back on the bed, his hands dragging the hem of your shirt up until he had pulled the cloth from your body completely.  Sitting back, he tilted his head and smiled softly at the redness in your cheeks, only to blink when you reached up, wrapped your arms around his neck, and flipped him onto his back.

“My turn,” you whispered, and gently pressed a finger against his lips in order to ensure that he stayed quiet. After a moment, he raised a brow and parted his lips, sucking your fingertip into his mouth while you contemplated your next steps. It was rare for Izzy to let himself be under you, and yet you were there, straddling his hips and admiring the way his chest rose and fell with each breath. Eventually, you slid your finger from his mouth and trailed it down his chin and neck, pausing when you reached his clavicle. After a moment, you leaned down and replaced your finger with your lips. He tasted just like you remembered, and you stifled a soft moan and you trailed kisses down his chest – and silently thanked everything in the universe for the fact that Izzy hadn’t dared to move and disturb your affections. Gently, you travelled further down his body until you reached his groin, your warm breath fanning across his skin before you smiled and pressed a delicate kiss to his hip.

“Just relax and let me show you how much I love you, Iz,” you murmured against his skin, looking up at him through your lashes before you parted your lips and licked a line across his thigh, stifling a snicker at the annoyed huff that escaped from Izzy at the fact you were avoiding the very hard matter at hand. Eventually, you pressed kisses across his skin until you reached his cock, watching his face intently as you licked a stripe up the underside of his length. His stifled sigh only urged you on more, and you gladly took him into your mouth as your hand slid up his leg to gently entangle your fingers with his. What was a gentle grip on your hand turned into a tight one, and what were gentle sighs and pleasured breaths turned into low moans and what could only be described as whimpers left his mouth, only for him to choke a little in shock.

“Socks!”

You sat up, and you were greeted with a pair of green eyes staring back at you, the owner having curled up on the windowsill. Huffing out a breath, you looked at your boyfriend and bit your lip to stifle a laugh, pressing your forehead on his hip as he scolded the cat, ushering her off the windowsill. With a disgruntled mew, she clambered across your back and jumped daintily down to the floor before she trotted out of the room.

“Well. There was our interruption from the gods,” Izzy joked, and you stifled yet another laugh before you sat back, running your fingers through your hair. After a moment of just watching each other, you leaned down and brushed your lips against his before his hand entangled itself in your hair and yanked your head closer to his in order to entrap you in a more bruising kiss. Unable to stop yourself, you climbed into his lap better and slowly slid down onto him, your fingers tracing his cheekbones once he finally released you from his wanton kisses. His breath fanned out across your face in slow, soft, pleasured pants as you rested your forehead against his.

For a moment, time seemed to slow for the pair of you as you slowly rocked your hips against his, his hands running down your back before he grabbed your ass, his fingers digging into the skin as he guided your hips faster before he was unable to stop himself from thrusting up into your heat.

Usually, the pair of you would be uttering words between you, panted out between kisses and moans, but you didn’t dare break the peaceful quiet that was occasionally interrupted by your moans and soft whines. After a moment, you pressed kisses across your boyfriend’s face, trailing them across his jaw and over his cheeks and nose, before you sat straight to watch the way his nose scrunched up every time you sank down onto his cock, and the way his brows furrowed in frustration as you teased him, slowing the movements of your hips until he let out a soft whine in protest.

“I don’t care what anyone says about you, Izzy. You’re my Izzy, and I love you,” you breathed out amid kisses, only to shudder as his hold on your hips tightened to the point of it being almost painful. He held you still for a moment before he started thrusting up into you, capturing your lips in a bruising kiss again before he took control of the pace, slamming his hips up into you in a punishing pace. Your breath caught in your throat and you were only able to moan out encouragements and praises for your boyfriend, tilting your head back as you tried to match his thrusts with your moans.

“Shit! Izzy! God, nobody else is like you-“ You panted out amongst moans, and you pressed further kisses against his cheeks.

“Just shut up and moan,” he muttered back, only to catch your lips in a bruising kiss again. It wasn’t long before you trembled against him as your release washed over you, only to let out a soft whimper as he thrusted into you one final time, releasing inside you.

As the two of you lay there, you on his chest, his fingers running through your hair, you mused softly at the fact that you knew this was the man you wanted to spend your life with.

“Izzy?”

“Mm?”

“I love you. All of you.”

[allsassnoclass]

i blame it on the weather (can you make it better)

Pairing: Michael Clifford/Calum Hood

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Key Tag(s): College AU, Cold, Angst with a Happy Ending

Word Count: 6,177

Read on AO3

A/N: this was tailor-made for @michaelownsmyheart​. I hope you like it darling <3 also big shout out to @clumsyclifford​ for looking this over and giving me Good Advice

—

Michael doesn’t remember the dorm being this cold when he left in December.  He doesn’t know how the space between him and Calum got that cold, either.

—

The drive back to campus feels shorter than normal, songs on the radio flying by with other cars on the highway the further Michael gets from his family and the closer he gets to the loneliness of an empty dorm.  Normally he wouldn’t mind having the place to himself, especially because that means he can blast music as loud as he wants and no one else is going to take the shower with the good water pressure, but there’s something foreboding about it now.

His phone is still empty of messages from the one person he’s been waiting to hear from.  Two weeks alone in the dorms wouldn’t be so bad if he had Calum on the other end of the line to keep him company.

He pulls into his parking spot right as snow begins to fall, a little earlier than predicted.  He sends a quick text to his parents to let them know he made it safe, then grabs his bags and makes the trek to his dorm.  It’s an older building elegantly nestled between the newer residence halls with better air conditioning or elevators that don’t break down every month, but there’s more character to it.  The other dorms are boxy and made of dark brick, but this one is lighter with turrets at the top and heavy wooden doors.  It looks more like a fantasy castle than a dorm building, and Michael’s mum had fallen in love with it immediately on their campus tour a few years ago.  Now that Michael is living here it’s lost some of its luster, but it’s also the only building to have single rooms, and while having Luke as a roommate turned out alright in the end last year, he likes being able to have the room to himself all of the time.

Michael fumbles for his key card to swipe himself in, biting off one of his gloves so he can get it out of his wallet.  Thick flakes land on his coat and hands, the kind that would probably be good for making snowmen if he still did stuff like that but that will be hell to drive in later.  Hopefully the roads will be clear enough by tomorrow, and he probably has some ramen that he never made from last semester that he can heat up for dinner tonight.

Inside doesn’t feel much warmer than outside, but there’s no snow or wind.  Michael stomps his feet in an attempt to get all of the snow off his boots, but freezes as soon as he glances up.

Nestled amongst the armchairs, big windows, fireplace, piano, and little side tables that make up the front lounge, Calum Hood stares back at him like a deer in headlights.  He’s got a notebook and pencil in his hand and a textbook open in front of him, blanket wrapped around his shoulders in a way that Michael wishes he were.  He looks exactly the same as he did when Michael last saw him a few weeks ago, except he’s fully clothed this time.  He looks good.  He looks cozy.

He looks like Michael is the last person he wants to see.

Michael clears his throat.

“I didn’t know you were back on campus,” he says.

“I’m taking a j-term and thought it’d be easier to focus here,” Calum replies, lifting the notebook halfheartedly.  “It’s a prereq for my chem class this semester.  It turns out that switching majors put me a bit behind this time.”

Michael nods.  Calum started as a music education major, then switched to an elementary education major before realizing he didn’t want to deal with little kids.  Now he’s studying to be a high school science teacher, which means he has a few freshman science classes he needs to squeeze into his schedule.  He hadn’t said anything about a j-term to Michael when he registered, but they also haven’t exactly been communicating much since before finals.

“I didn’t expect anyone back yet,” Calum says eventually.

“I got permission to come back early so I can take a few more shifts.  Gotta pay for college somehow, you know…”

Michael trails off, unbalanced and uncomfortable.  It feels wrong to be reacting like this around Calum, just like it felt wrong to not hear from him during finals or break, but after a few more moments of uncomfortable silence and chewing his lip he hefts his bag higher on his shoulder and makes an excuse about wanting to get his room back to rights.  He feels Calum’s eyes on him as he leaves, the weight of his gaze lingering even after Michael has entered the stairwell, dug out his key, and entered his room.  When he takes off his jacket he immediately reaches for a blanket, wrapping himself up and trying to suppress the shivers threatening to erupt throughout his body.

He doesn’t remember the dorm being this cold when he left in December.  He doesn’t know how the space between him and Calum got that cold, either.

-/-

Once he has a bowl of instant ramen in front of him and his stuff more or less put away, Michael calls Luke.

“Good morning,” Luke answers, a leftover joke gone stale from when they were roommates with opposite sleep schedules.  It almost makes him wish for a simpler time when Luke was forcing him to go places like Welcome Week events and they were literally running into people like Calum and Luke was forcing them all to be friends even though Michael’s smoothie got spilled and Calum dropped his nachos.  Michael would take being newly flustered over a hot guy who got a strawberry drink all over his favorite sweatshirt rather than having Calum not fucking talk to him.

“Did you know that Calum’s doing a j-term?”

Luke sighs on the other end of the line.

“I’m doing fine, Michael, thank you for asking.  How are you?”

“I’m bad.  Calum is here and no one warned me.”

“If it makes you feel better, I didn’t tell him that you would be back early, either.”

“That much was obvious.”  Michael stirs his noodles, suddenly feeling like he doesn’t have the right appetite for this.  “He looked like me showing up was the worst thing in the world.”

“Don’t exaggerate.”

“I’m not,” he says.  “You should’ve seen him.  He hates me now, and I still don’t know what I did wrong.”

“He doesn’t hate you,” Luke says.  “He misses you, too.”

“If he misses me so much, he should respond to my texts.”

Luke hums on the other end of the line.

“You’re both in the same place now.  Maybe you can corner him in person.”

“I wouldn’t have to do that if someone would just tell me what happened.”

“What happened is that you two slept together and then Calum ghosted you,” Luke sighs.  “If you want his reasoning, you have to ask him.  I will not be a messenger pigeon for you two.”

“I feel like that metaphor works best only if he’s been asking about me, too,” Michael says.  Luke doesn’t respond right away, a drawn out pause that makes Michael look up from his noodles.  He wishes they were video chatting so he could see what sort of expression Luke is wearing. “Luke, has he asked about me?”

“I’m not doing this with you right now,” Luke says.

“You fucker, he has talked about me!  Do you know why he ghosted me?”

“Stop using me as a go-between!  If you want to know why Calum hasn’t replied to your messages, ask him yourself.  You both need to get your heads out of your asses and communicate.  I can’t believe I’m the one who has to say that.”

Silence descends and Michael pulls his phone away from his ear to see that Luke hung up on him.  Michael huffs.  A second later his phone lights up with an incoming call, a very unattractive picture of Luke staring at him from his screen.  He considers letting it ring out and go to voicemail, but in the end he decides to take the high ground and answer.

“What,” he says flatly.

“Sorry I hung up on you,” Luke says.  “I don’t like being caught between you both.”

“Yeah,” he sighs.  “I don’t like it, either.”

“Will you try to talk to him?  He’ll let you if it’s in person.”

“I guess.”

Luke hums.  They stay on the phone a little longer, small talk filling the silence so Michael doesn’t have to be alone while he eats, but he knows he’s being a bad conversation partner, too distracted by what Calum may or may not have been saying about him to Luke.  When they finally hang up Michael flops back on his bed and groans, wondering if he should just move to Antarctica and change his name rather than put himself through this.

-/-

He manages to go the rest of the night without any indication that Calum is there.  They miss each other in the bathroom, but every sound in the hallway has the hair on his arms standing on end, wondering if it could be Calum or just the settling of the near-empty building.  He sleeps fitfully, tossing and turning on the sub-par dorm mattress, cuddling deeper into his blanket in an attempt to find some much-needed warmth.

The last night he spent with Calum, and the first night they’d spent together in that way, Michael fell asleep warm.  It was almost too hot, sticky under the covers and burning wherever their skin touched, but he loved it.  He’d take the heat over the cold any day, and he hasn’t felt warm since he woke up alone, bed feeling too big without the other boy in it to act as his personal space heater.

That morning the sheets had still smelled like him, but they were cold.  He’d left long before Michael woke up.  Michael’s first morning back feels like a mirror of that day.  Right before he fully wakes up he catches himself reaching for Calum and coming up empty.  When he realizes what he had been doing, he forces himself to get up rather than stay in bed and wallow only because he can’t afford to be late to work on his first day back and he doesn’t trust the roads to be cleared yet.  The college is situated on the outskirts of town, an odd placement that puts a woodsy area to one side and only a few smaller shops next to it.  Michael hadn’t managed to land a job in one of those places, but the family-owned restaurant he works at pays enough to be worth the gas it takes to get there.  He throws on a hoodie and slippers and shuffles to the bathroom to brush his teeth.

Calum is already at one of the sinks when he enters.  Michael doesn’t let his eyes stray from his face, refusing to take in the tan shoulders and torso or the drops of water glistening against him, leading down to the towel wrapped around his hips.  He has a toothbrush in his mouth, foam gathering at the corners of his lips, lips that Michael has--

No.  He can’t think about this now.

“Morning,” he says, clearing his throat to get it to work properly.

“Morning,” Calum replies around his toothbrush, consonants muffled.  He spits into the sink and Michael makes himself focus on his own morning routine, meticulously putting toothpaste on his own brush and hoping it’s not obvious that even glancing at Calum is dangerous for him right now.

Neither of them try to say anything more, and Michael wonders if the silence is hanging as heavily in the air for Calum as it is for him.  Before break, silences between them were the only types of silences Michael could stand.  He’s fidgety by nature and gets uncomfortable without background noise, but Calum always managed to temper that a bit.  Being around him settles something inside, something that right now makes Michael want to scream.

He’s about to try to break the silence when Calum picks up his bathroom caddy and leaves without so much as a glance his way.  Michael tries not to let it bother him, but he misses the weight of his gaze.  Calum used to look at him fondly, filled with enough affection that Michael could feel it in his heart.  He doesn’t understand why that would have to change now.

By the time Michael goes to start his car for work, Calum has set himself up in the lounge again, laptop open in front of him.  He’s turned on the fireplace, something that Michael thinks they're not technically supposed to do but that he’s certainly not going to call him on, and he doesn’t look up when Michael comes down the stairs.  Michael lingers by the doorway longer than he should.

They’ve spent a lot of time in this room, whether doing homework on the couch, trying to play duets on the piano in the corner, or hogging the chess set by the window, figuring out how to play and passing the time.

The chess board is set up for a fresh game.  In a naive fit of hope Michael walks over to it and moves one of the pawns forward.  Calum doesn’t glance up from his computer, but he’s still in a way that means he knows what Michael is doing.

On his way out he thinks he hears someone say drive safe, but the howling of the wind is already filling his ears and he can’t be sure.

-/-

Michael gets sent home early because of the snow.  He fights it all the way there, pulling in late because he had to move so slow, and halfway through his shift the manager calls it, deciding to close up for the day.  Right after he clocks out Michael gets a notification on his phone for a severe blizzard alert, and he steels himself to face it before leaving behind the warmth of the restaurant.  Outside the world is covered in a thick sheet of white, plows not able to keep up with the large flakes still falling from the sky, and Michael wills his car to survive the drive, windshield wipers going furiously in an attempt to keep him seeing as much as he can.  The drive takes three times longer than usual, and when he finally spots his dorm through the snow it comes with a sigh of relief.

Calum is still in the lounge when he comes inside and stomps his feet to get some feeling back into them.  With the snow came a biting wind, and even after barely being outside he feels frozen.

“I was getting worried,” Calum says, startling him.  “It looks like it’s bad out there.”

“It is,” Michael says, taking off his hat and shaking snow off of it.  He squints at Calum, in a different position and bundled in a blanket now, the big blue one that Mali got him as a grad present.  Michael once again has to push away the urge to cuddle up to him.

“It’s fucking cold,” he says instead, because it’s true and if he doesn’t make small talk he’s going to blurt something embarrassing like I’ve been thinking about you all the time or why did you leave me or I love you I love you I love you I’m sorry please can we be friends again?

“Going to be a cold night for us, then,” Calum says.  “The heating’s been shit this break.  I don’t think they keep it up as high when there’s only one student here.”

“I’ve had a few cold nights,” Michael snorts before he thinks about it.  “I mean--I’ll use some extra blankets.”

Calum nods once.  He opens his mouth like he’s about to say something, then snaps it shut again, looking down at his computer.  It feels like a dismissal, like Michael isn’t worth his time anymore, and it stings.

He should go upstairs, anyway.  He needs to find some blankets of his own.  He glances over the piano and the fireplace, eyes landing on the chess game by the window.

Someone has moved a pawn on the other side.  He glances at Calum, then moves a knight, continuing the game.  He wants to ask Calum to sit down and play a proper round with him, but one glance at Calum’s posture has him biting his tongue.  He’s closed off, blanket wrapped around him securely and face tense, and Michael can’t bring himself to bother him, not when interacting with Michael seems to be the last thing he wants to do.

Michael looks back at the chess set, three pieces out of place, and heads to his room.

-/-

The night comes simultaneously fast and slow in the way that all boring winter nights do.  Michael sits in his room scrolling through social media while the sun sets around him, and when he does eventually get up it’s only so he can make more ramen to eat.  He had lunch at the restaurant and never did get to the grocery store, but he has a few snacks to munch on and if things get really bad he can always see if Calum has anything he’s willing to share.

Calum initiated conversation earlier, so things can’t be too bad between them, right?  It’s still terribly stiff and uncomfortable, but at least he’s not getting the silent treatment anymore.  At least Calum looked at him for a little bit.

He plays video games until he’s too bored to continue, then showers and crawls into bed.  It’s still cold, just like Calum said it would be, but they haven’t lost power yet.  Michael piles on the blankets and pillows, but his sheets are frigid, not yet warmed by his body heat and making him shiver.  After a few minutes of tossing and turning he considers boiling water just to have a warm mug to hold in his hands.

Maybe it’ll be better in the lounge with the fireplace on.  No one’s here to get mad at him for falling asleep on the couch, but then he’d have to haul all of his blankets down there, something that he doesn’t think he has the energy for right now.

He wishes Calum were here.  It feels like all he’s done since getting back to campus is think about Calum, his presence in the building affecting him more than it would have if he was fully alone, but in a pragmatic sense he also really wants a warm body next to him right now.  Two people under the covers are warmer than one, and he’s already put on socks and a hoodie.  Wrapping himself in Calum would keep him warm on a physical level, and maybe it’ll settle him enough that he’ll actually be able to sleep without having weird dreams or waking up every few hours.

He hasn’t even gotten close enough to touch him since getting here.  Before break, he and Calum were always handsy with each other, personal space a myth with the two of them.  It feels wrong to have seen him and not immediately gone in for a hug.

He flops onto his stomach, trying to get comfortable without disturbing the blankets too much, but sleep isn’t coming easy.  When a knock comes on his door, he’s immediately awake and alert.  He wonders if it was a piece of a dream instead, given that there’s only one other person in the building and late night visits did not seem to be an option on the table, but after a few moments someone knocks again.

The light of the hallway is bright after the dark of his room, making him squint at the silhouette of Calum standing before him, wrapped in a blanket like he always seems to be right now.  His hair is messy, no doubt from his own fitful attempt to sleep, and Michael wants to run his fingers through it and put it back to rights.

“Hi,” Michael says.

“I called maintenance about the heat,” Calum says.  “They said they’re having a bit of issue with it and will send someone out, but with the road conditions it could be a little while.  I think they forgot that there were people here.”

“Oh,” Michael says.  “Okay.”

He stares at Calum again, cataloguing how tightly he’s wrapped up and the way he’s chewing on his lips.  Michael waits for him to say what he really came here to.

“It’s really fucking cold, Michael,” Calum blurts finally, a little desperate.

“I know,” Michael says, not sure how to tell Calum that he’d set the world on fire for him if it would help.

“It’d be warmer if we were together.  Like, scientifically speaking.  If we cuddled, it would warm us up a bit.”

“Well, you are the scientist in this duo.  You would know.”  Calum finally meets his eyes, looking up through his eyelashes a little in a way that’s completely unfair.  He’s already got Michael wrapped around his finger, heart skipping a beat at the simple occasion of having his attention again.

He has it so bad that it’s pathetic.

“Is that all?” Michael asks, trying to scrape together some of his dignity.  Calum has been ghosting him for weeks, and a conversation about the bad heating isn’t exactly what Michael wanted from a real conversation with him.  He’s too tired for small talk and much too cold to be standing here when he could be under the covers.

“You’re shivering,” Calum says.  Michael hadn’t noticed the small tremors, but now that Calum pointed them out he can’t ignore them.

“Come on, Mikey,” Calum says, stepping closer.  Michael wants to lean into him and the warmth he promises.  “I promise it’ll be warmer if we cuddle.”

“Do you want to come in?” he asks.  Calum nods, so he steps aside.

Having Calum in his room again when the last time included one of the best and most overwhelming experiences of Michael’s life is weird, to say the least.  It’s like Michael can see two versions of him: the current Calum, wrapped in a blanket and closed off in every conceivable way, and the Calum from that night, laughing at all of Michael’s jokes and spouting off facts about gravity to explain how they kept getting closer and closer.

“See, everything with mass exerts gravity on everything else, except typically it’s not enough to be noticeable compared to the gravity of the Earth.  Your gravitational field must be really strong today.”

“Are you calling me fat?”

“No, Michael, you idiot.  Stop misinterpreting what I’m saying!”

Calum surveys the room, the safety light reflecting off the snow outside just enough to give him silhouettes to work with.  Michael wonders what he’s remembering.

“How do you want to do this?” Michael asks when the silence has stretched on for too long.  Calum shrugs, so Michael climbs up onto his bed, sliding under the covers and leaving a corner flipped up in invitation.  Calum hesitates, and for a moment Michael thinks he’s going to turn tail and run, but he throws his blanket on top of the covers and joins.  The bed is too small to avoid some awkward elbows and involuntary brushes of clothing, barely big enough for one person, let alone two.  Michael holds his breath while Calum gets somewhat settled, pressed against the wall to give him as much room as possible.

“It’ll be warmer if we’re touching,” Calum whispers, words hitting Michael like a shout with the close proximity and otherwise silence of the room.  If the lights were on, Michael would probably be able to count his eyelashes, but now his face is a combination of different shadows.

“How do you…” Michael trails off.  Calum reaches out first, a cold hand wrapping around his own and pulling him closer.  They end up with Calum on his back and Michael’s head on his shoulder, legs tangled together.  Michael’s sure that Calum can hear how loud his heart is beating, but he can feel Calum’s own beating in a similar pattern so he can’t be too upset about it.  He can hear every inhale and rustle of clothing, can feel the soft cotton of Calum’s shirt against his cheek and smell the faint remains of his soap.

He’s warm.  It’s not the burning heat from their last night together, but it’s almost worse with the gradual way that Michael can feel himself unthaw in his presence, slow enough that he could forget it’s happening only to wake up as an irreparable puddle.

“Okay?” Michael asks, sending flashbacks to the last few times he had asked that question and Calum’s answers: always positive, whether a verbal yes or a nod or a fierce kiss and wandering hands.

“Yeah,” Calum says.  Michael swallows.

Calum starts tracing a design on his back with his finger, barely-felt with Michael still bundled up.  Michael wills himself to stay in the moment rather than slipping into the past or wishing for a different future.

It’s not bad like this.  He gets Calum close at least, receiving that little piece of contact from him that he’s been craving.  If this is the last time they’re like this, he wants to enjoy it if he can.

He shifts, Calum freezing under him for a moment until they both exhale and relax a little more.

Michael closes his eyes and wills himself to sleep.

“Michael?” Calum whispers after a few minutes.  For a moment he considers not answering, sure that anything Calum might think to say in the dark of the night will be something he doesn’t want to hear, but all he’s been asking for the past few weeks is his attention, and it seems vindictive to reject it now.

“Yeah?”

“I’m sorry.”

Michael should ask for clarification on what, exactly, Calum is apologizing about.  He’s opened the door to this conversation, and Michael should take the opportunity to finally walk through and get their wires straightened out, but he can’t bring himself to do any of that, not like this.  Not when Michael is breathing him in and stealing his warmth and there’s absolutely nothing between them to act as a buffer.

In the dark cuddled up together, Michael can keep pretending that Calum isn’t about to crush him.  As long as he doesn’t ask for clarification, it’s like Schrodinger’s heartbreak: Michael can be both loved and lonely at the same time.

“Can we talk about it tomorrow?” he asks.  “We need to talk about it, but I’m tired.  And cold.  Not tonight.”

“Okay,” Calum says.  Michael waits to see if there’s anything else, but Calum just resumes tracing his secret design on Michael’s back.

Michael closes his eyes and hopes they don’t freeze to death in the night, twin skeletons found tangled together by some unsuspecting third party when the thaw comes.  He’s not sure when he falls asleep and begins to dream, but in his mind Calum presses a kiss to his hair and Michael tries not to let such a simple action break him.

-/-

When he wakes up the bed is cold and empty again.  It shouldn’t be surprising, certainly not after last time.  There was less expectation to stay here, but everything is ugly in the cold light, shattering the fragile balance of the night before.  Michael feels a pit in his stomach, but also a hot flare of anger.

Calum is the one who came begging for his company yesterday after completely ignoring him for weeks.  Calum is the one who left without a trace after Michael showed him he loves him the best way he knows how.  Calum is the one who keeps running away from this, but Michael is the one who keeps getting hurt and that’s not fair.

It’s a little warmer in the building now, the heaters likely getting sorted while they were sleeping, but Michael still grabs a blanket.  No one answers Calum’s door and the bathroom seems to be empty.  He heads downstairs to see if he has set himself up in the lounge again and knows he’s on the right track when he starts to hear piano music drifting softly towards him the more he descends the stairs.

Calum is one of the only people who ever uses the grand piano in the lounge.  It’s slightly out of tune, just enough for Michael himself to notice but for Calum to complain about a lot.  Michael has spent a lot of later nights in the lounge listening to him play, whether he was practicing back when he used to be a music major and take lessons or just playing for fun.  Calum curses a lot when he practices, but Michael has also caught him with his eyes closed and a content smile on his face, letting the music take him away.  Watching him like that, Michael sometimes wonders why Calum switched from music to science, but the rarity of the moments makes them all the more special.

He’s playing a piece that he’s been working on for a while.  Michael tries not to disturb him, walking slowly towards the chess set where another piece has been moved in a continuation of the game.  Calum must have pulled the curtains by the windows up, deep drifts of snow piled against them and sunlight reflecting off the white to set the entire room aglow.  In this setting and with this soundtrack, the morning feels less frosty.

The last note hangs suspended in the air and Michael holds his breath until it dissipates.  Calum sighs, breaking his posture to slump down, and turns to face Michael.

“You’ve gotten better at that one,” Michael says.

“Easier to practice when I don’t have to go to the music hall and no one’s here to use the piano.”

Michael studies him, taking in his rumpled appearance.  He doesn’t look like he’s been up that long, still in the same pants he went to bed in and already folding the sleeves of his hoodie over his hands to keep them warm.

The sweatshirt he’s wearing is one of Michael’s.  His heart flip-flops.

“Did you want to talk now?” Calum asks.

“Yeah,” Michael sighs.  Calum nods once.  He scoots over on the piano bench, making room, and Michael gingerly sits next to him.  After a moment’s hesitation, he offers part of his blanket, nearly sighing in relief when Calum accepts it.

“I’m sorry for how I left, and for not replying to any of your messages,” Calum begins.  “That was a jerk move.”

“It was,” Michael says.  “You’re my best friend, Calum.  If I had known that’s how you’d react, I wouldn’t have--”  He stops, because he doesn’t want to say he regrets sleeping with Calum unless he has to.  It would be a lie.  He’d rather have Calum as a friend than nothing, but the will-we-won’t-we would’ve killed him eventually, and the night itself was amazing right up until Calum left.

“I don’t want to jeopardize that,” he says instead.  “You mean a lot to me.”

Calum presses his lips together.

“Why did you leave?” Michael asks.  “I thought we were on the same page.  I mean… you wanted it, right?  You said you did.  I thought you did.  I didn’t--”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Calum interrupts.  “I did want it.  I really wanted it.  Too much, probably.”

“What does that mean?”

Calum sighs, looking down at his lap and fidgeting with his sleeves again.  Michael wants to know why he’s so nervous.  He wants to grab his hands and hold him steady the way that Calum does for him when he’s freaking out, but that wouldn’t be welcome right now.

“Michael, I can’t do something casual with you.  You’ve said before that you’re not looking for anything serious, but I can’t be friends with benefits, not with you.  Not when I’m in love with you.  It’d tear me apart.”

“What made you think I wanted something casual?” Michael asks.  “Apparently you couldn’t tell, but that night was kind of a big deal for me.  I’m not exactly known for sleeping around.”

“Michael--”

“I’ve been crushing on you since we met, okay?” Michael says, turning to face him more fully.  “I wasn’t looking for something serious with anyone else because I’ve been hung up on you.  That night was one of the best nights of my life, and then you weren’t there in the morning.  I thought I had fucked up.  I thought I had ruined one of the most important relationships in my life.”

“You didn’t,” Calum says, grabbing his hand.  “I should have talked to you instead of running away.  That’s on me.”

“Yeah it is,” Michael sulks.  “Why didn’t you?  Why’d you just assume what I wanted instead of bothering to ask me?  That hurt, Cal.”

“I know.”  Calum grimaces, then shrugs.  “I don’t know.  I thought I knew what you wanted.  Or didn’t want, I guess.  I didn’t consider that you could like me until you kissed me, and you’ve never shown interest in an actual relationship.  I wasn’t ready for you to reject me.”

“But I wasn’t going to,” Michael says.  “You’re you.  You’re the exception.”

“I didn’t know that, though.  We didn’t exactly sit down for a conversation.  Our mouths were otherwise occupied that night, if I remember correctly.”  Michael opens his mouth to protest, then snaps it shut.

He doesn’t remember exactly what he said in the heat of it, but he remembers biting back I love you, knowing it was too early to be throwing that phrase around, no matter how true it was.  Maybe he ended up hiding the sentiment a bit more than he anticipated.

“You still should’ve talked to me,” he says.

“I know,” Calum replies, squeezing his hand.  “I’m sorry.  I’ll do better with that.”

Michael squeezes his hand back.

“So,” he says, “you like me?”

“Yeah,” Calum says.  “A lot.”

“You got that I like you, too, right?  I said that.  I’ve had it bad for you since we met.”  Calum frowns.

“You took a while to warm up to me.  I thought you were still holding a grudge because I spilled your smoothie.”

“No, you had me tongue-tied,” Michael says.  “I had to figure out how to function around you.  You’re really hot and it made me flustered.”

“Shut up,” Calum says.  He’s blushing, crimson staining his cheeks enough for Michael to see, sending a strong thrill of satisfaction through him.

“I’m serious,” he needles.  “You’re ridiculously attractive, dude.  You’re not going to hear the end of it from me now.  I’ve said it once and now there’s nothing to stop me from saying it five times a day.”

Calum laughs and tucks his face into Michael’s shoulder.  Michael feels his own happiness bubble up inside him, threatening to burst.  He brings Calum’s hand up to his lips and kisses the back of it in an attempt to release some of the pressure.

“Are we boyfriends now?” Calum asks.

“Fuck yeah,” Michael says.  “Unless you don’t want to be, but that’d be lame.”

“I want to be,” Calum says quickly.

“Good,” Michael says.  “Then we are.”

“Good.”

They sit for a while, and this silence feels comfortable again, like their old ones.  Michal could stay suspended in this moment like the final note of Calum’s piano song and feel content with it rather than uncomfortable.  That more than anything lets him know they’ll be okay.

“I’m cold,” Calum says eventually.

“We should move by the fire.”

“We should eat breakfast,” Calum counters.  Michael hums and gives Calum’s neck an exaggerated sniff, making him squirm and giggle again.

“You should shower,” he says.

“Fuck you.  That’s rude.”

“I could join you?” Michael offers.

“These showers are not big enough for two people,” Calum says.  “Nice try, though.”

He stands and kisses Michael on the forehead, tucking the blanket back around him.

“Can I kiss you properly?” Michael asks.  Calum nods and leans down again, the gentle press of his lips both familiar and thrilling, sweeter in the morning light.

“Breakfast, then I’m going to shower alone, then I think we have a chess game to finish.”

“Or we could make out all day while we have the lounge to ourselves.”  Calum considers him, tilting his head and giving a wry smile.

“We can do that if you win the chess match.”

“Deal,” Michael says.  It’s an easy bargain, because Michael is better at chess than Calum is, and with that prize on the line nothing’s going to distract him.

“Breakfast,” Calum repeats, tugging on his hands until he’s standing, too.  Michael leans forward and kisses him again, just because he can now.  Calum beams and leads him to the stairs, Michael tripping over his blanket and Calum’s laugh filling the room.

It could just be the heating kicking in more, but Michael isn’t sure he needs the blanket right now, not when Calum is here warming him from the inside out.