#The age of Jack doesn't add up BUT HEAR ME OUT HERE | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

gayf1hoe · 1 month

Text

Part 13

After another 5 races in Austria, Canada, Bahrain, Japan and Austin, Texas where I scored P1 in all of them, it's our summer break which is only 2 weeks but 2 weeks of being back in England with my family is time I cherish, well normally it's time I cherish.

I approach the door of my childhood home and knock on the door, it doesn't take long for my mum to answer “Oh my Gosh M/N darling come in quickly” she ushers me in and the familiar smell of her cooking sends me back to my childhood.

I place my suitcase by the stairs in the hall and walk into the kitchen and take a seat on the chair by the kitchen island as my mum follows in behind me.

“So M/N what have you been up to” she asks, “You know nothing much apart from racing and training” I reply. “And how are things between you and Charles?”, “Everything's going well, he went home to Monaco to visit his mum and brother's”.

As I finish my sentence she places a bowl of soup in front of me and says “here eat up” I instantly begin to shovel the soup into my mouth. “I take it that it tastes delicious” she comments “as always” I add, causing my mother to smile more intently with a sense of pride and fulfilment.

Breaking the silence she says “So I was thinking, maybe we could go to the old karting track tomorrow and have some fun”, I laugh and say “I'm meant to be having a break from racing”, “it will be fun, plus we can invite Jack and Lucas you haven't seen them in ages, their mother's have been asking about you a lot” she adds, I sigh and agree to it and she gets me to phone Jack and Lucas who were my old karting teammates but they both decided racing wasn't a career they wanted and ended up pursuing so called ‘normal’ careers.

I spend the whole day just lying on the sofa watching TV and eating, completely disregarding my holiday diet and training plan that the team had created and told me I had to stick to.

As I wake up in my childhood bedroom surrounded by my childhood racing trophies and the posters of my favourite F1 drivers such as Senna, Prost and Mansel. I feel fully refreshed at not having to get up before 7 and I savour every minute longer I get to spend in bed, that is until I hear a knock on my door.

“Come in” I say, it's my mum, “come on you need to get up we have to be at the track in an hour” I groan in annoyance and pull myself from the comfort of my bed and head to the bathroom to shower. For some reason showering in my own home I feel more out of place than I do in random hotels, as Nyck always used to say I was always afraid of being settled down in one place.

After my shower I head downstairs for breakfast but before I can reach the kitchen my mother is pushing me towards the door insisting we are going to be late.

The car journey is brief and the whole time me and my mother are singing along to the radio and it takes me back to when she would take me to karting after school and we would sing in the car.

Arriving at the track I see Jack and Lucas standing there waiting for me and ask I step out Jack shouts “am I the only one getting Deja vu, us having to wait for M/N to turn up to the track” I tell him to be quiet as I approach him and embrace him in a hug. We start complimenting each other on how well each other looked and the guys made a point of congratulating me for my F1 success and getting a boyfriend.

After standing around and talking around talking for a while we are called over to see our karts, they are decorated just like they were when we were 10. We put on our helmets and head on the track and into one of the corners Lucas doesn't give me enough space and runs me off the track. But I manage to get back on and get ahead of him and set my eyes on Jack but like he did when we were 10 he doesn't pose much of a challenge.

At the end we reconvene and as Lucas approaches me I say “You pulled a Leclerc on me” and they both laugh and Lucas smugly replies “Yeah but you love me more than him right?” I laugh and say “if you want”.

We spend the rest of the day doing mini races against each other and then at the end we take a group photo together and Jack posts it with the caption “We had a great day reliving our childhood, p.s @ChalresLeclerc, Lucas loves your boyfriend more”.

After a while we part ways and head home. The car journey is pretty similar to the one earlier as we get in. I head to my room for a while to relax before dinner when my phone starts ringing and it's Charles. “Who the fuck is Lucas?” he immediately says “hello to you too”, “Don't give me that bullshit M/N give me an answer to the question, who loves you more than me apparently?” he spits back.

“One it was a joke, two Lucas is my best friend, three don't ever call me to shout at me for something you don't even know the context of” .

“Look M/N I want to trust you but it seems you love male attention” he replies, I am actually stunned to silence.

“I don't know if winning one grand prix gave you ego a much too big of a boost or the fact we are not in the same country has given you more confidence but you don't get to speak to me like that, have you considered the fact I get so much male attention is because I'm in a male dominated sport” I say at a raised voice but considerate of the fact that my mother will be able to hear me if I raise my voice anymore.

“Well I don't think I can be with someone who looks at other men”, “are… are you dumping me?” I ask but he doesn't give me an answer instead he hangs up the phone.

I lay back on my bed and just cry. At about 7 PM my mum knocks on my door inviting me down for dinner but I decline her offer.

For the next 13 days I just stay in my room. I didn't come out for food, water, or conversation only to shower and go to the toilet. His words constantly playing over and over in my mind, I begin to see things from his point of view and start to blame myself for all of this. I instantly regret challenging him. Maybe I should have just let him shout at me and accept my fate. I pack my suitcase and head downstairs where my mother gives me a pep talk before I head out the door “listen I don't know what's wrong with you but I hope you do amazing and I hope you feel better and remember I love you” I embrace her in a hug and head out to the waiting taxi.

The journey to Heathrow Airport is long and mundane with the usual British rain pelting against the car, I look out the window and stare at passing cars and the road markings as we blast past them. Pulling into the drop off zone I thank the driver and get my luggage from the back.

I head to the departures check in and make my way straight to my gate as my plane is boarding. I look out the window one more time getting a final glance of England and whisper to myself “until next time England”.

The 1 hour and 20 minute flight flies by as I only manage to to watch one documentary, I step out of the airport and it's like I never left England it's grey and raining, I see a man holding a sign with my name and I walk up to him and say, “taxi for M/N L/N” he immediately drops his cigarette and says “yes sir, let me take your luggage”. He's a man in his early 50's, with short black hair and a face with light wrinkles indicative of his age.

As he drives he asks “so how was your flight?”, “it was rather pleasant, it went by really fast and I must say it's the same weather here as in England” my last comment makes him chuckle, he explains he knows who I am but he's doesn't exactly know a lot about F1 which I'm kind of glad of because it means he sees me as a person and not a driver.

Approaching the last part of our journey he asks “I must say I've seen videos of you and you look much… happier, may I ask what's wrong”. “It's nothing just a friendship issue I guess” as we pull into the parking lot he gives me some final words of wisdom “never let anyone take away your smile, no matter who they are nothing is worth your smile”.

As I leave the car he asks me if I can sign a piece of merch for his son which I obliged to with privilege. I give him a handshake as we part way I head into the hotel and head straight to the reception.

“Hey I'm Mr M/N L/N checking in” he takes a moment to search my name “ah yes Mr L/N I have you down for a double room for 2”.

“Sorry what?” I enquire, “I have room 22 down for you and Mr Leclerc” he says, “Can I change it please?” I ask, he considers it for a moment before informing there will be an additional charge but I inform him it doesn't matter.

He hands me the key card to my single room on the complete opposite floor to Charles. I enter the room and dump my stuff and head out onto the balcony and look out to the local area in the rain and sigh “Hello Zandvoort”.

I hear a knock on my door and it's the receptionist with an envelope after he hands it to me I close the door and open it to find a bunch of paper that says “Zandvoort Grand Prix Plans” I see that I need to be at the track by 11 AM and it's currently 6 AM so I decide to take a nap which turns into 4 hours. I look at my phone seeing it's 10 AM and simultaneously say “shit”. Luckily the track is only 15 minutes from the hotel.

As I'm running down the stairs through reception I see Charles checking in and I just walk right past him and head out the door. I practically run to the track and make it just in time for Toto's regular monotonous Grand Prix talk and then he tells us that me and George have to do some testing as they have made some modifications to the car in preparation for quali tomorrow.

The practice session lasts 2 hours as they make us go through every setting, by the end of it me and George may as well have been swimming in our race suits as the rain had drenched us.

I get into some dry clothes and then have to sit through a lecture by the head engineer where he ran through the modifications and what it meant for the car and its performance. And whilst he said it would only last an hour we were there for 2 hours.

By 3 o'clock me and George are exhausted and Toto tells us there is a team dinner which we must attend, the dinner is at 5 so I just waste the time in my drivers room scrolling on my phone.

At the dinner the talk is way too professional and formal for me and I opt to just sit in silence and nod in agreement to statements and let out a light laugh when everyone else laughs. One of the investors asks me “so qualifying tomorrow, do you think you will get pole” I laugh uncomfortably at his comment “I hope so” I say.

Getting back to the hotel after dinner I am greeted by Daniel, who asks me “What's wrong with Charles?,he's being a total cunt today”, “I don't know Danny and to be honest I don't want to know” I say walking away.

Each step makes me feel exhausted and when I reach the second floor I see Charles coming out of his room and I immediately rush to continue walking up the steps to avoid having to speak to him. “M/N” he shouts down the corridor but I ignore him and continue but I feel a tight grip around my wrist, and turn to see him standing there. “Let the fuck go of me”, “Look I want to talk, I don't get what you're mad at me, you're the one in the wrong” as he says that I scoff “if you think I'm in the wrong you're insane” I pull from his grip and head to my room.

As I lay in my bed trying to rest for tomorrow, I can't help but cry.

***

“M/N of course it's qualifying today. What's the most important thing for you as a driver?” the sky reporter asks me and as he does Charles walks past throwing me off track, “erm… its… Well it's just hold your nerves and focus I guess”.

After my interview I head to my garage when I bump into a face I haven't seen in a while, Nyck.

We bump into each other and I look down at him as I am slightly taller than him, “hey” I say to which he replies the same. “How are you?” he asks after a brief moment of silence “Fine” I reply. “No you're not, when you say fine I know you're lying, where's Charles maybe he can help you”, “don't talk to me about that dickhead” I say quietly gritting my teeth.

“You haven't broken up, have you?” he asks, “No, yes, well I don't know” I say in such an unsure tone, “would you like to go somewhere and talk about it?”, “Sure, let's go to my driver's room”.

I open my room and shut the door and lock it for privacy. I know I won't be disturbed for 2 hours as I have done all of my media and quali isn't until 2 PM.

We sit on the couch next to each other and talk for ages about the whole situation and when I have finished explaining the whole situation to him he hugs me and offers me words of encouragement.

For a moment I remember how much I have missed this side of him, the side I fell in love with years ago. And then I do something impulsive and in my head say “I'm gonna live to regret this”. I stare into his eyes and lean forward my lips connecting with his, for a moment he pulls away “I'm sorry” but as soon as I finish he places his lips back onto mine passionately exploring my mouth with his tongue his hands going up my shirt and mine running along the front of his trousers all whilst his lips and mine are glued together.

He climbs on top of me pulling my top off and throwing it aside he pulls away from my lips and begins to kiss my neck and torso before reaching my trousers, he pulls them down along with my underwear and begins to trail down with his tongue. As he does so I feel his warm mouth embrace my entire cock and he begins to move his head up and down. I let out light moans that I try to suppress. I run my hand through his hair and lightly push his head down further. “I'm gonna cum” I say brokenly, due to my moans. Moments later I follow through with my words, I fall back into the couch with him on top of my chest “I missed you” he says to which I reply “this is wrong”, “did you hate it?” he asked still gasping for air “no”, “well then it was right”.

I walk into my bathroom to have a quick shower and then feel hands wrapping around my waist and turn to see Nyck joining me. “What the fuck you doing in here?” I exclaim “I need a shower too, I'm sweaty”.

When we ‘finish’ and get out, I put on my race suit and he puts his clothes back on and I manage to sneak him out of my room without being noticed.

On qualifying I make it to Q3 and I am last to do the timed lap, before I start my engineer informs me off the current grid, “M/N it is currently Leclerc who is P1 he lapped 1 minute point 12 and Max is P2”, “OK copy” I respond.

The pure anger I have for Charles makes me extra focused on my driving and pushing the car beyond it's limits, I manage to set a time of 1 minute 10 putting me on Pole and shocking everyone.

When I hop out of my car it would normally be Charles who's there to congratulate me but instead it's Nyck who embraces me in a hug alongside other team members.

“Do you want to go for dinner tonight?”, “sure” I reply “let me head to my drivers room to get my stuff”.

*** Charles’ POV ***

Today hasn't felt right, not having M/N by my side and then I see him with him, Nyck.

After qualifying I head to my garage and watch M/N go out for his timed lap. And see him be a whole 2 seconds ahead of me.

I feel the urge to go and celebrate with him but when I see him on the screen celebrating with his team I see Nyck in the corner.

I walk out of my driver's room to go and speak to him and see Nyck just standing there and I let my anger get the better of me. “What are you doing here?” I ask in a spiteful tone. “Just waiting for M/N” he replies smugly “Well I don't want you near him after what you have done to him in the past”, “really, because you did the same thing I used to do, he told me everything including how you pretty much dumped him, face it you're just like me except he always comes back to me” after he says that I feel like punching his light out but resist the urge.

M/N comes out of his garage and blanks me and says “come Nyck” as he does so Nyck looks at me and smiles. “M/N what do you think you're doing?”, “I'm going for dinner” he replies “with him?”, “with who else Charles?, you dumped me because my friend made a joke”, “I know it was stupid but we can try again, I can make you happier than him”, “well when he was moaning my name earlier that's not the impression I have” Nyck blurts.

“What— you did it with him?”, my tears make my tone unstable. But he doesn't say anything, he just looks at me with a blank expression “goodbye Charles” he says whilst walking away.

*** Back to M/N's POV ***

Arriving at the restaurant Nyck greets them in Dutch and I don't understand a word they say but he quickly guides us to a table by the window.

Whilst we are sitting at the table awaiting our food Nyck asks me “do you want him back?”, “it's complicated” I say, “do you love him?”, “Of course,” I reply. “Then put him in line and get him back”, I laugh at the man who just had sex with me twice in one day is giving me encouragement to get back with my boyfriend.

“Yeah well even if I wanted to get him back I'm sure he wouldn't take me back after I had sex with you”, “Look he can't say you cheated on him because he basically dumped you, and did you see how sad he looked when he found out what we did?” I think about what Nyck said and I realise how stupid I have been.

At the end of dinner I rush through the streets back to the hotel to speak to Charles.

I stand at his door and knock it takes a moment for him to answer and as soon as he does he tries to close the door but I put my foot in the way “wait, just give me 5 minutes”, he sighs and opens the door to let me in.

“Listen, I know you're probably angry, pissed and most likely hate me for what I did with Nyck. But you have to understand I was under the impression you had dumped me and didn't want me so I went looking for comfort and yes I didn't do it in the best way but for the past 2 weeks I have felt lonely and miserable”.

“M/N I'm not mad at you, I'm mad at myself, mad I acted that way, mad I made you feel like that, I'm not good enough for you” he says with tears streaming down his face.

“Look at me” I say placing my hands on his face, “you are more than good enough for me and I love you”.

“I love you to M/N “ he says, “will you take me back?” he asks, “of course” I reply immediately.

That night I lay in bed in Charles' arms and for the first time in a while I am happy and able to sleep.

Waking up with his head on my chest is something I missed so dearly, hearing his raspy morning voice fills me with a sense of warmth.

Entering the paddock I am greeted by a tumultuous scene of reporters and fans excited for the Dutch Grand Prix. As I walk to catering for breakfast I see Max in his garage and know that of all races today is the one where he will try his absolute hardest to please his fans, his country and most of all his father.

Walking through the paddock I feel someone place their hand on my shoulder. I turn expecting to see Charles or George but instead it's Jos. I had never really spoken to him not since the time in karting where I threw my water bottle and it accidentally hit him.

“Can we talk” he asked in his usual stern tone, “erm sure let's go this way” I say pointing towards catering.

As I take a seat and bite into a piece of toast I say “what can I do for you?”, “I want you to do for Max what you did for Charles” when he says this I know exactly what he means but play dumb “what sleep with him?” I say in a sarcastic tone.

“No don't be stupid, Max went from being one of the best in the world that was until you come along, so I want you to go easy on him” I get closer to his face and speak very quietly “listen here old man, I don't go easy on no one, if you want your son to win he's gonna have to try harder, I didn't come all this way and make it to F1 to give people an easy ride, now if you don't mind I have to go and get ready to win another Grand Prix”.

Entering the garage I'm slightly pissed at the audacity of Jos and George seems to notice “who pissed you off this morning?”, “it's nothing” I reply slamming my phone down on the counter.

I quickly get changed and head out to the grid and climb into my car. The formation lap goes well and I'm sitting waiting for the lights to go out even though I should be focusing on Charles who is in P2 I focus on Max in my mirror.

Engineer: “And M/N the last car has just formed up, 30 seconds to lights out be ready and do well”

M/N: Yeah, copy

As soon as the light goes out I quickly advance my foot on the accelerator almost immediately creating a gap between me and Charles.

Zandvoort has always been my least favourite track as it's the one I find the most difficult.

Engineer: M/N Charles has just boxed, car behind us is Verstappen gap 4.5 seconds

Approaching lap 70 Max manages to get ahead of as I go wide one of the corners and I shout at myself “Fuck sake M/N, fucking do better”.

Engineer: it's OK M/N we have 2 laps to get him again.

M/N: yeah copy

In lap 71 I focus intently on the soaring RedBull in front and manage to keep him within DRS range and overtake on the left, seeing him fall back as we enter the corner is a great sight. I just have to maintain this for one more lap.

Engineer: You are back in P1, Verstappen behind 1.2 seconds.

Engineer: Last lap, last lap maintain pace and focus, Verstappen 0.9 seconds.

Engineer: OK M/N we are on the last corner and we have Verstappen behind with DRS.

Hearing that sentence right before the finish line always sends chills down a racer's spine, knowing someone could overtake you just before the finish line is your worst nightmare.

I see him come alongside me and I push my pedal to the floor and we cross the line and I can't tell who won.

M/N: What position did I finish?

Engineer: Standby M/N Marshals are confirming.

The 30 seconds I wait for the result feel like an eternity and it sends my mind into a frenzy.

Engineer: and M/N, P1, P1 Verstappen P2, Norris P3

M/N: Holy fuck guys that was tense, great job today, I never want a race like that again though.

Toto: haha M/N us too I almost shit myself that was so close congratulations.

M/N: Thanks Toto, glad we don't have to clean or see that.

Pulling into Parc Ferme I am exhausted and have just enough energy to push myself up from my seat and run over to my team and embrace them all in a huge collective group hug. I loft my visor up and make eye contact with Toto who looks in my eyes and quotes the famous words of Guenther Steiner and says “We looked like fucking rockstars” my laugh muffled by my helmet I say “I feel like a fucking rockstar”.

Finally letting go I see Verstappen in P2 and go over to congratulate him alongside Lando and I do I see the face of Jos Verstappen's death staring at me. The face of Jos Verstappen is one no one can forget. It is one of pure hatred and anger and I relish in his displeasure.

Raising the trophy on the podium I see Charles at the front grinning at me and I look back into his captivating eyes and smile back at him and mouth “love you”. Seeing him there supporting me feels me with a sense of relief and happiness that are both overwhelmingly euphoric.

Stepping down from the podium my media manager pulls me alongside to an interviewer and as he does so I groan in annoyance and stand where I am told to and before he starts his interview my manager whispers into my ear “Don't be cocky” to which I whisper back “no promises”.

Reporter: So M/N a tenth Grand Prix win out of 11 grand Prix's has got to feel pretty great but how do you do it?

M/N: Well yes it feels great in terms of how I do it, it's all teamwork without the amazing team behind me none of this would be possible, also the support I have from friends and family such as my mother and Charles really helps me focus and feel my best before and after races.

Reporter: Speaking of Charles, we saw him front row celebrating your incredible achievement today. Do you think that support from someone who understands the pressures of being an F1 driver has been more useful?

M/N: Well of course, the person who can provide the best advice is the person who has experienced the same things as you.

Reporter: Finally M/N before we let you go in qualifying you set a gap of 2 seconds where did all this power come from?

M/N: Well I think it's about finding the latest breaking point possible and quickly accelerating out of the corners that really gives you this extra speed, and also just having determination to do well provides you with more speed.

Reporter: Thank you M/N and once again great job.

Walking away from the reporter my Media Manager thanks me for not being well myself. I quickly enter the garage and Toto informs me that there is a quick debrief about the race.

Sitting down around a table he begins to talk and that's when I switch off:

“A great result today P1 and P4, we are currently top of the constructors well ahead of RedBull, but to say I was shitting myself that race would be an understatement M/N your gap was barely a gap you both nearly crossed the line at the same time, George your gap to Lando was 0.8 at the end and you had Verstappen 0.2 seconds behind you. These gaps I don't like. We have to be faster, if we have this every race I will have a heart attack. Now I understand it's been a long first weekend back so I will let you go back to your hotel to think about everything I have said”

As I stand up and leave I look back at Toto and smile at him before saying “Good night Toto” he replies back less enthusiastically.

As we walk out I turn to George and say “ why did it feel like he was telling us off for doing well?”, “that's Toto for you” I let out a slight giggle.

Walking through the paddock I hear someone shout “Amour” and instantly recognise the Monegasque accent. As he approaches me George excuses himself and leaves us to stand in the paddock in front of each other.

“There's a party tonight. Do you want to go?”, I ponder for a moment “I'm tired Charles I think I'm gonna go back, have a nice long shower, watch a movie and get some sleep, but you can go to the party if you want to”. “No amour I think that's a great idea and plus it sounds better than being in some small club with blaring music and drunk people”.

Arriving at the hotel we head straight up to our room and after I have a shower we find a random film on Netflix that looks calming and intriguing but just as it starts I gently begin to fall asleep in Charles’ arms.

Waking up in a daze I check my phone and see that I have been invited down to play Paddle with the guys, unlike most F1 drivers I haven't fallen into the trap of Paddle but it doesn't mean I don't like watching it.

Charles of course was already down there when I got there he was fully immersed in the game and doesn’t notice me until Alex says “ignoring your boyfriend Chalres” as Charles looks at me Alex whacks the ball and scores a winning point before Charles becomes incredibly defensive citing that it wasn't a fair point.

Approaching me he embraces me in a warm hug as if we weren't in bed together less than an hour ago. “How are you amour?”, “I'm good, you?”, “very well amour now that you are here”.

I stay to watch the guys play Paddle for a while but I quickly realise I would rather watch paint dry, so I head into the entertainment room and sit down with Yuki, Zhou, Pierre and Esteban.

Soon after I sit down my phone begins to ring but it's a number I don't recognise so I simply ignore it but moments later it rings back. “Someone's keen to speak to you” Pierre chimes in, sighing heavily as I pick the phone up, I don't recognise the voice as I put the phone to my ear. “Hello” I say timidly the unrecognisable female voice on the other end replies “Hello is this M/N L/N” thinking for a moment I reply “erm yes… who is this?”.

There is a moment of silence before she replies “My name's Dr. DeLuca calling from London General Hospital, "I'm sorry to inform you that your mother was admitted to us this morning after being involved in a car accident” the second she finishes her sentence I space out in a moment of instant fear and panic, I can't think straight I feel tears forming in my eyes. “How is she?”, I hear the doctor take a heavy sigh “it's too early to tell” before I think any further I say “I'm getting on the first flight back home” as I end the call and stand up Yuki looks up with a face of pure curiosity and asks “what's wrong?”, “I need to go home” I say running out the room.

As I run to my room I have the phone to my ear phoning an airline for a flight home. By the time I get to my room I have already booked a seat on the 3 o'clock evening flight.

I chuck random clothes into my bag not caring about if they are in order or even if they are mine. I quickly decide to call Toto and let him know about everything. I tell him I will try and be there for the Hungarian Grand Prix but family takes priority. I have 12 days until then so it's not even at the forefront of my thoughts.

Running down the stairs I bump into Charles who is returning from his Paddle game, “Amour is everything alright?”, “Yeah erm I have to go back to England right now” I respond hastily. “Why?” he says, becoming more intrigued. “My mum was in a car crash, and the doctor didn't say if they knew she would be alright or not and I have to go because if I'm not there and she dies I will never forgive myself” my tone is incoherent and rapid, he grabs my face and looks into my eyes and says “I'm coming with you”, “you can't what about your team”, “listen you and your mum are more important that some training day”.

He runs up to the room and before I know it he's coming down out of breath with his suitcase which he has evidently packed not so well. We head for the door and sit in the taxi that had been patiently waiting for us and to my surprise it's the same taxi driver from the first time I arrived here. “Hello again” he says laughing “Hello” I retort back in a tone that has a sense of fakeness.

The journey is quiet the whole time I stare out the window with tears rolling down my cheeks and Charles is slowly rubbing my shoulder in an attempt to comfort me and whilst it doesn't provide much comfort I'm still grateful for his attempts at comfort.

Arriving at the airport we thank the driver and enter the chilled departure terminal. The tumultuous scene of people engaged in incoherent chatter of joy sends me into a frenzy. We check in and our flight isn't for another hour so we just sit by the departure gate staring out the window. “You know she will be fine right” Charles chimes in trying to make me feel better “thank you amour but I'm not a child child but I know what could happen” I feel like I'm being a bitch but it's just I'm not in the mood to be patronised like a child.

Soon the plane begins boarding and somehow I manage to fall asleep on the flight and the next thing I know is we are thundering down the tarmac in England. I open my eyes and see that much like when I left it's hammering down with rain and the smell of wet concrete flows through as they open the cabin doors.

Emerging from the airport I blurt out words I didn't expect to say this soon “hello again England”.

#f1 x male reader #Charles Leclerc #Charles Leclerc x Male Reader #male Reader #f1 #ferrari #Mercedes

5 notes · View notes

saturns-ringg · 1 year

Text

ok guys.... hear me out... modern lotf au I'll explain thingys here!! its an au me and my friend (IM TAGGING YOU SILLY GUY: @fruityahhbread) created (but im like sharing what I think hehe) , so all of these are basically headcanons!! (btw, I decided to age them all up to 15-16-17 because sort of a hs au) (AND IN THIS AU WE'RE REFUSING TO BELIEVE SIMON AND PIGGY DIED IK, WEIRD.) simon: -mitski stan -they/them/he -has braces -that one kid who was really weird in middle school -🏳️‍🌈 -filipino -autistic yippee creature -his mom is single (AND PROBABLY GAY ‼️) -cottagecore/softcore aesthetic -15 -5'3 (shorrttt) -dating roger roger: -🏳️‍⚧️and pan -gets called emo but really isn't -literally HOMOcidal -happy only with simon -abusive dad -very good fashion sense -grunge-y aesthetic -poc -16 -5'9 -dating simon (ofc) jack merribitch: -bi -theater kid -literally a whore or wholesome no inbetween -his intrusive thoughts won on the island -wears I <3 MILF/DILF shirts (aswell as similar ones) -has the personality of every single redhead ever -pale as paper -feral choir kid -hearing loss </3 also forgets to put hearing aids in alot -adhd -17 (he got held back a grade 😧) -6'2 (TALL) -dating ralph (they're so gay for eachother istg) ralph: -pan -burnt out gifted kid -borrows things but doesn't return them -still a coral island fanboy -"damn daddy" -ADD/OCD vibes -still that goofy ahh golden fair boy -16 -5'9 -dating jack (ofc, he looked at jacks shorts...) maurice: -bi but still makes fun of gay ppl?? -probably laughs at among us jokes and other stupid memes -gets Fs in all his classes because of our beloved adhd -curly ass hair that he doesn't control -annoying af but sometimes is just eepi -kind of pookie -prolly simps for sam -makes fun of everyone -16 -6'0 piggy: -aroace (SLAY) -nerd -also codes -"BUT- MY AUNT SAYS- MY ASTHMA-" -gets bullied :( -has that buzzcut but like, aestheticer if yk what I mean -peter is his true form name -actually really nice -16 -5'7 (short)

#lotf roger #lotf simon #lotf #lotf jack #lotf ralph #lotf maurice #lotf piggy #lotf headcanons #lotf au #add more later

14 notes · View notes

fbfh · 3 years

Text

prolonged bisexual panic - steve harrington x fem reader x billy hargrove

genre: angsty bisexual pining + smut

wc: 5k

pairing: steve x fem reader, billy wants to be in the middle, background jonathan x nancy

warnings: everyone's beat up after an ambiguous monster fight, billy has a lot of self loathing and internalized issues, you kiss billy thinking he's steve cause you're half asleep, billy is actually a good brother and not abusive in this, billy has to come to terms with the fact that he's bi and in love with you and steve, morning wood, dream that takes place in a hospital, jacking off in the shower, billy thinks about you and steve while jacking off in the shower, did I mention boners enough yet, billy cries like twice because you're both nice to him, you call yourself mommy as a joke, let me know if I missed anything I don't have any braincells rn

spoilers: billy and max (cause they're introduced in season 2), brief mention of ambiguous monsters and monster slime

summary: caught between you and steve the night after a battle, billy has nowhere to run from the warmth he feels around you two. he doesn't want to admit how badly he wants to be with both of you because he obviously doesn't stand a chance, but he doesn't really have another option at this point.

music rec: i actually made a playlist this time!! you can listen to it on shuffle if you want but it's in chronological order w the plot yk it's only a few songs so I can link them here too

arms tonight - mother mother, water fountain - alec benjamin, caught in the middle - paramore, i/me/myself - will wood, verbatim - mother mother, sudden desire - hayley williams, bizarre love triangle - new order

a/n: why did the writers do billy so dirty.... I could have made sure he was okay.... "i can fix him" yeah well I can add him to my f/o list

also I'm about to start season 3 so no spoilers lol

also also I feel like this is probs some of my best work so far so PLS let me know!!!! give me feedback and validation!!!! rant to me on anon!!!! I wanna hear it you can not possibly annoy me bc I'M the annoying one!!!!! <33

ALSO I've decided to be that bitch and start including outfits in fics again so enjoy this and follow my shoplook!!

as with all nsfw works, all participating characters (steve, billy, and reader) are aged up to 18+, minors obviously dni <3

One benefit of Steve’s parents barely ever being home is that when shit hits the fan, and you’re up late into the night fighting interdimensional monsters, everyone can crash at his place, no questions asked. The older kids - you, Steve, Nancy, Jonathan, and Billy - had gotten everyone over to Steve’s place, ordered some pizza, and set up movies and a giant pillow fort in the living room for the younger kids in hopes that it would help them sleep, and gotten to bed yourselves before three in the morning. It doesn’t sound like much, but after the night you’ve all had, you’ll consider it a victory. You told them more times than you can count, if they need anything you’ll all be right upstairs, wake someone up if you need anything. Jonathan and Nancy had taken the guest room, for obvious reasons, leaving you, Billy, and Steve to crash in Steve’s (in your opinion, garishly plaid) room.

Asleep on your feet, getting ready for bed through nothing more than muscle memory, you and Steve peel off your superfluous layers, leaving you in a baggy tee shirt and sweatpants respectively, and fall into bed without a second thought, asleep within minutes. Neither of you notice the compromising position you’re in, or the intimate touches and soft breathy kisses you share out of habit.

Billy, however, does notice. Mainly because as you fell into bed with each other, he got caught in the middle. He was half asleep minutes ago, but he’s definitely awake now. He barely had time to pull off his jeans, much less put on the pajama pants Steve had tossed at him, so clad in nothing more than boxers and a tank top, you and Steve press your forms into his. Part of him wishes he'd left his jeans on, but with your hand already slipping under his shirt and Steve’s on his thigh, he doesn’t think it would have made much difference.

Steve’s arm is under Billy's head, face in his hair, his other hand sleepily caressing Billy's thigh, sending heat to his core. Warmth radiates off his bare chest, and Billy feels a part of him that was always a little annoyed that Steve was never on the skins team during basketball, one he never let himself acknowledge, flood with catharsis. Curiosity, he always told himself, a type of curiosity only satisfied by locker rooms and… whatever situation he finds himself in now.

You nuzzle your face into his neck, and he lets out a quiet, breathy sigh. He can't stop himself from resting his hand on the dip of your waist. Your shirt riding up from the curve of your hip, his hands seem to move on their own, brushing up and down your waist. He finds a subtle indent on your hip where the elastic of your underwear rests, and he traces the soft material, digging in his heels as his mind wanders places he knows it shouldn’t go.

Laying between you, touching and cuddling you both is such a bizarre sensation; as campy as it may sound, he truly never thought he’d be close to both of you like this. There’s no doubt that he’s wanted to be, desperately, for some time, but he’d always written it off as another self destructive pipe dream.

He’d tried earlier today. He really did. You had just finished patching up and settling down the kids, and were passing around first aid kits to the older siblings. One was given to Jonathan and Nancy, one to Billy, and you and Steve had used the supplies in the bathroom. He had lurked outside the bathroom door, trying to work up the nerve to join you, even just existing separately in the same space would have been enough.

He watched you two through the bathroom door, with you standing in between Steve’s legs while his hands skimmed up and down your hips, finally resting on the small of your back. Your hand under his chin, guiding his face around, you assessed his injuries. He’d gotten away with just a black eye and a busted lip, as he always seems to, and you dabbed at the skin gently with a cotton ball. Steve winced slightly at the sting, and Billy could just make out your voices, quietly floating to the doorway.

“Y’know,” Steve started, “I think I’m gonna need a lot of get better kisses to recover from this one,” he trailed off, pulling you closer to him. He just had to walk in the room. Just enter, and make conversation, and keep doing what he was doing before.

“Woah, tiger,” you said with a laugh as he leaned in, grabbing antiseptic cream from the counter, “you won’t be able to kiss anyone if you don’t let me fix your lip.”

You patted his chest, readjusting his face to get a better look. Steve’s eyes got a dreamy sort of look to them, and in that moment, anyone in the room could feel how profound and tangible his love for you is.

He couldn't do it.

Breath pulled from his lungs, Billy returned to Steve’s room, your laughter echoing down the hall at something one of you had said. Misery seemed to pump from his heart through his veins, spreading throughout his entire body.

Now he doesn’t have to wonder what your hands would feel like on his chest, or what Steve’s arms would be like loosely wrapped around him. He doesn’t have to wonder what your shampoo would smell like, or what Steve’s sleepy sighs feel like against his skin. Now, lying here with you, both of you, it’s surreal how fast the tides have turned, how fast that deep resounding sadness has turned into overwhelming warmth and fulfillment. Even if it doesn’t mean anything by sunrise, he knows it will to him.

Even still, he feels like he's being torn apart. At this point, he can’t deny how badly he wants this, how he'll take any scraps of attention, or even passive inclusion, you and Steve might throw him, but for reasons infuriatingly beyond his understanding, his instincts keep telling him to run. That this warmth he's feeling is too much and he'll get burned, or worse, accustomed to it, never able to survive in the inevitable coldness of solitude again. And then what? He just curls up and dies? He lets out an irritated sigh. Frustration, many kinds of it, continues to build.

He squeezes his eyes shut, blinking heavily as he tries to stay awake. He can’t dwell on that distress, as much as he might like to; every breath, every touch of your skin on his, the warmth radiating off of you and onto him keeps him painstakingly in the present. Touching both of you like this, soft and gentle, is so intense, a strange sort of high he’s never felt anywhere else. His long building panic begins to plateau, as he settles into the unwavering sensation of being between you like this. He finds himself blinking more and opening his eyes less, your comforting touches and his prior exhaustion finally catching up with him.

He doesn’t want to sleep. He doesn’t want to risk the miniscule chance that something might happen, and he would sleep through it. He feels you moving, heart in his throat, looking at you nervously. He doesn’t want you to wake up and be disgusted at being so close to him. You’re so kind to everyone, he knows you’d never say that, but he couldn’t live with himself if he knew he’d made you feel that way.

But you don’t wake up. You stretch, arms and legs elongating, your hand getting dangerously close to his hips, before settling back into a comfortable position. Your hips rock against his thigh a few times as you get comfortable, and he bites his lip, trying desperately not to make any noise. Your hand, no longer resting on the bare skin of his stomach, grabs onto the collar of his shirt, pulling it gently. And it stays like that. There you are again, Steve’s breath ghosting steadily over his face, you pressed into his side. In this new position, he can feel the soft flesh of your chest against his.

It’s too much. He wants to get up and leave, and he wants to stay here forever, leaning into this newfound warmth, but he does nothing. He lays there, paralized, choking on conflict. He squeezes his eyes shut, breathing growing ragged as he tries to calm himself, stay in control of his emotions. He’s really glad you’re both sound asleep and not awake to see the stray tears that slip down his cheeks.

He feels you stir again, and tries to force his breathing to slow down. Your hand leaves his chest, and rises softly to his cheek. He flinches slightly as you brush away the tears rolling down his face with the most gentle touch he thinks he’s ever felt in his life. A new wave of deep sadness hits, the tenderness of your gesture making him want to cry more. You shift, pressing a soft, sleepy kiss to his formerly tear stained cheeks. The feeling amplifies.

“Hey, it’s okay,” you murmur in his ear, emulating nothing but pure love and warmth, “I’ve got you, you’re okay…” You continue pressing soft kisses into the side of his face and neck, hand rubbing soothing circles on his chest and stomach.

“You’re okay Stevie.”

In spite of the reassuring tone of your voice, he thinks being split open and gutted with a cleaver would hurt less. He stares at the ceiling, your touch hypnotic.

“I love you.” you say into his ear, pressing a kiss into his jaw. “You’re just… the sweetest person, and I love you so much…”

Slowly, turning his head toward yours, he watches your silhouette in the dark room, moonlight illuminating everything in a surreal, blue cast. Slowly, tenderly, he leans down, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. You hum in approval, pace of your hand on his chest and stomach slowing down. He begins to get caught up in the soothing, hypnotic current of your movements, unaware that he’s even closed his eyes.

He soon finds himself in an uncomfortable plastic chair along the hall of a hospital. He’s filled with a visceral sense of disgust and sickening dread. He’s waiting, stuck stagnant on news that may or may not come. A hand comes up, and he recognizes it as Steve’s. He gently guides Billy’s head to the side, resting on his shoulder, arm around him. His free hand rests on Billy’s leg, and Billy places his own shaking hand on top of it. Soon after your hand covers his, thumb rubbing his skin reassuringly. Your free arm wraps loosely around his waist as you sit curled up in the seat next to him, resting your head on his chest.

And you stay like that.

As doctors and nurses and hospital staff rush around, completely ignoring him, he waits. He’s still full of that sickening, miserable, cold feeling, but you and Steve are completely unshaken, unbothered; still, but not stagnant. The waiting, not even bothering to beg doctors and nurses for any kind of information because he knows they won’t give him anything, is still horrible, but with you and Steve here, beacons of peace and tranquility, it’s enough to take the edge off. Enough to make it bearable. He’s not sure what happens next, as his consciousness is pulled quickly back to a waking state.

His head is turned away from you, resting on Harrington’s arm, his eyes damp again. He’s awake, Billy realizes, from the comforting shushing noises he’s making.

“It’s okay, I’m right here baby…” he mutters, voice thick with sleep, and presses a kiss to the top of Billy’s head.

“You know I love you, right?”

His words hang in the air.

Billy nods slowly in confirmation. Just to make sure he doesn’t wake up, he tells himself, nothing to do with how much time he’s spent avoiding imagining what a love confession from Harrington would be like. Even he can see how thinly veiled that load of bullshit is.

“Cause I do.” Harrington says, breaking the late night silence once again, “I love you lots.”

There might have been more, but he’s asleep again within moments. It’s not what he thought it would be like, not even close - even his wildest fantasies never would have placed him in this situation - but he’ll take what he can get. He feels his breathing fall in line with yours and Steves, eyes blinking slower and slower.

His mind is awake before his eyes open. All of the muscles in his body are relaxed, and he’s so warm. He’s hit with the distinct, resounding feeling that something really, really good has happened, but he shouldn’t question what it is, or it will just disappear from his grasp. If he plays his cards exactly right, and doesn’t move too fast, he won’t break this beautiful delicate thing he’s been given.

Someone moves behind him, and his eyes open. Your face is barely an inch away from his, his arm slung over your waist. One of your legs rests between his, his dick rock hard and cushioned by your soft thigh. Steve shifts behind him, letting out a sigh that fans over Billy’s neck as he wakes up. Face flushing, Billy realizes that he can feel Steve, who has the same problem, hard and right up against him.

You stretch, and sit up, turning to face them. As if you couldn’t get any sweeter, you very politely ignore the fact that Billy was practically just grinding into your thigh.

“Morning,” you yawn, and his chest squeezes. How are you so fucking cute? Steve rolls over, either not noticing or not caring that he’d just had his dick up against Billy’s ass. Billy’s not sure which is worse. He picks up the clock on the nightstand.

“What time is it?” he says, still obviously groggy. His hair is messy and his cheeks are flushed from sleep.

“God, I don’t even know,” you say with another stretch, your shirt riding up and exposing your hips and waist. He can handle this, he can just be normal. Act like nothing weird happened. You let out the softest, breathy little moan when you stretch.

“Last night was really something, huh?” You ask rhetorically, with the jovial, almost conspiratory look you get from sharing an inside joke or a secret with someone. Billy’s heart is pounding. He looks over at Steve, who looks between you two with the same look.

“Yeah,” he says with a chuckle. He wonders if this is it, if… he doesn’t know what would finally happen. He just knows he’ll say yes if it’s with you two. Steve continues.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen that many monsters in one place.”

Right.

The big event that happened last night was fighting a horde of monsters, not three people sharing a bed. He stands up abruptly, his flight response going into overdrive now that he’s not at risk of waking you up.

“I’m going to take a shower.” he says, quickly making his way to the door.

“Yeah,” Steve starts, “the bathroom’s right down the-”

He’s out the door before Steve can finish. A few feet down the hall, he hesitates, and circles back to Steve’s door, hearing your voices faintly through the small opening.

“I know, I did too! You’d think we’d be up all night from the adrenaline, but I was out like a light.”

“Yeah, maybe we should have Billy sleep with us more often…”

A fresh wave of heat hits his cheeks, and his cock is straining against his underwear. He rushes to the bathroom and closes the door firmly.

Maybe we should have Billy sleep with us more often. You don’t say shit like that unless you’re into someone, right? Maybe… maybe he wasn’t completely delusional about how he felt last night. If you didn’t want to be with him, you would have hated waking up next to him, right? God, he wants to be with you so fucking much.

He looks over at the sink and remembers you patching up Steve. He braces himself against the wall with one arm, imagining Harrington's arms around his waist. He mimes tilting Steve's head back, tending to his injuries. He can almost hear his voice asking him for get better kisses, his tone cocky in a way that makes a wistful smile ghost over his face. He sits on the closed toilet, head tilted back like Steve's had been, and imagines your soft, caring touch. He wonders what little nicknames you’d come up with for him… maybe cowboy, or hot shot. He lets out a weepy, yearning laugh rubbing his hands over his face. Whatever it is, it would sound so cute coming from you. It always does. He wonders if you’d pat his chest like you did with Harrington, or maybe run your hand through his hair a few times.

He tries to catch his breath but memories from last night won’t stop replaying in his head, and he finds himself touching all the places you did last night. His hand grips the collar of his shirt, mimicking yours, fingers trail along his thigh like Steve's did.

"You know I love you, right?"

He's palming himself, hand already sticky with precum, almost poking out of his boxers. Steve's voice echoes in his head and he feels you kissing tears off his face.

"Cause I do. I love you lots." Your hands rub soothing circles on his chest and stomach, his pace increases… He's still there mentally, lying between you, perfume and cologne mixing and mingling into something completely intoxicating that he doesn't want to stop breathing, even if he's getting high off it and- Jesus Christ, he has to get rid of this morning wood right now.

He turns the water on hot; he gave up on cold showers a while ago. They don't help him, not when it's you two he's thinking about. He strokes himself as he peels off his clothes, frustrated and desperate and heavy. He steps into the hot water, wishing his hands were yours… or maybe your mouth. Maybe Steve’s hands... your hands, Steve's mouth?

Any of it.

All of it.

He throws his head back against the tiles, cool in contrast with the water so hot it's already making his skin pink. He can't fight his mind for much longer, can't stop the torrent of images and desires, imagined touch ghosting over his skin. He pants, breath heavy with lust and steam in the air. He wishes something would happen, wishes you'd have the sudden desire to break down the door and join him. He wishes you'd barge in together, one shoving their tongue down his throat, the other sucking hickeys into his neck. He increases his pace, finally getting somewhere.

You would bang on the door before entering, tear off your clothes and squeeze into the tight space with him, because…

“Because we can’t keep our hands off you,” he imagines your voice, so breathy and cute and close to him. Your hands would touch him all over, quickly making their way to his cock.

“Besides, do we need a reason?” Harrington would ask from behind, caging you both in with his strong arms, his lips dangerously close to Billy’s ear.

God, he wants you so bad, wants your cute little body pressed up against him, wants to feel Harrington’s hands grope him, going down, down, down… he wonders if he could actually have sex with you, both of you, or if it would be too much for him.

“I guess we’ll just have to practice,” you’d say, hands in his hair, pulling him down into an open mouthed kiss.

“We’ll have you trained up in no time,” Steve would murmur into his neck before sucking another hickey. What he wouldn’t give for you to ravage his body, have your way with him. He knows he’d love it too. He never thought of himself as submissive before but…

His mind continues to wander.

Harrington, he realizes, he’s seen naked before, in the locker room. A shameful heat rises to his cheeks as he recalls every carefully stored memory, every carefully defined muscle. He can picture him here now, hair wet, strong arms glistening, hand grabbing Billy’s chin. He’d run his thumb over Billy’s lips with that fiery look in his eyes he only gets when something is really important.

You, however… he’s never seen you like that. His imagination takes off running, thinking back to how you felt pressed up against him, the soft skin of your bare legs rubbing against his.

He slides down the wall of the shower slowly, growing closer. He wonders what you’d feel like in his hands, in his arms, for real this time. He’d slide down the shower wall like he is now, you coming down with him. You’d straddle his hips, body soft in front of him against the hard wall. Your nails dragging down his chest and through his hair, you’d look up at him taking all the breath from his lungs. You’re so pretty, you’re both so pretty. He wants to be pretty. He wants to be pretty to you.

He wants both of you.

He wishes you were both in here, as desperate to be with him as he is to be with you. He wishes he was sandwiched between you again, four hands groping him, pulling at his hair, helping him out, touching him where he needs it most.

A loud knock at the door, followed by your voice snaps him out of his train of thought. He stands up, startled.

"Billy?" You call again. He freezes.

"Yeah?" His voice cracks. He can't make out what you say.

"Can we come in?" You ask again. His heart is in his throat. There is nothing he wants more than for you to come in right now. But god, he was so close. He waits, cock still hot and throbbing in his hand. He can’t keep jerking off to the thought of his friends absolutely ruining him when you’re right there, right?

“Yeah,” he says again. The door creaks open, and the temperature drops as steam billows out, your voices taking its place.

“We’re doing some laundry to get the rest of the… slime… out of our clothes,” you say, recalling how repulsive those monsters were, “so which one do you want?”

He barely processes what you’re saying, terrified you’ll somehow find out exactly what he’s doing and why he’s doing it, terrified you can somehow see through him and into his thoughts. In spite of how impossible it is, he’s terrified at the thought of either of you being… disgusted with him? With everything he's thinking about you? He's terrified, terrified you’ll hate him, cast him out like a horny lusting pariah. It’s not like you’re even that close to begin with, no matter how much he might like to be.

“What?” he asks, brain fogged with confusion and thoughts of you.

“Detergent. What are they again?” you ask the second part more quietly, and Steve’s voice now bounces against the walls, still groggy from sleep.

“Clean linen or April fresh.”

“Uh…”

“Blue or pink?” Steve asks again, simplifying the question.

“Both.” he blurts before he can think.

“Okay,” you say, “we’ll let you know when your clothes are clean.”

“I have some stuff for you to borrow until then.” Steve adds, “I’ll leave it on the counter.”

“Sounds good.” Billy says, trying not to sound snappy. He lets out a shaky, haggard breath.

“Breakfast is cereal and leftovers,” you begin.

“And a lot of coffee.” Steve interjects. You continue with a chuckle.

“You can come whenever you’re ready.”

“Right.” he can come whenever he’s ready.

“Thanks.” he blurts as an afterthought.

After what feels like an eternity (and simultaneously not nearly long enough) the door is closed and he’s once again alone with his thoughts. He braces himself against the wall, water dripping down his face, right hand lazily holding his cock, now gripping it with a newfound fervor. He pants, grinding into his hand, wishing he had something or someone - or someones - to help him out a little.

He wonders what you would do if you were getting Harrington off. Images of you pumping his cock and pulling his hair, whispering dirty shit in his ear flood Billy’s mind. For the thousandth time, he imagines being right in the middle of it. Back pressed against Steve’s broad chest, you straddling his lap, telling him how to touch himself… Finally, it’s enough to send him over the edge. He humps into his hand, and muscles contracting, balls twitching, and climaxes hard. Riding out his high, he pumps out all the thick hot cum that’s been building up - and hopefully the feelings building up along with it.

He sinks to his knees and watches it go down the drain, panting and light headed. Once he catches his breath, he stands back up. Right as he reluctantly turns off the water, the door opens again. His stomach drops. If he had come in any sooner… he wonders if you could hear him over the running water.

“Clothes are on the counter.” Steve says, now sounding more awake, the smell of coffee wafting and mingling with the steam in the room. Billy runs a hand through his wet hair, brushing it back, and thanks him.

“Need a towel?” Steve asks.

“Yeah,” Billy says, and he watches as a moment later Steve’s hand pokes past the shower curtain, handing him the fluffy material, their fingers brushing as he takes it from him.

“Thanks,” he says, slightly breathless.

“No problem.” Steve says casually. The door opens and closes, and Billy is alone again. He wraps the towel around his waist, stepping out into the rest of the bathroom. He looks at the clothes on the counter; gray sweatpants and a led zeppelin tee shirt, knot tied in the front. He recognizes the sweatpants as Steve’s, and the shirt as yours. A soft smile kisses the corners of his lips.

Once he’s dried off and dressed, he decides to leave the shirt tied up, even though it shows a lot more of his midriff than he’s used to. He can picture you clear as day in this exact shirt, casually gathering the material and twisting it until it’s knotted up. He looks at the folds in the fabric, face warm, and is struck with the sudden realization that if this shirt ever got untied, it would never be tied in the exact same way ever again. It will always be different.

A sudden outburst of laughter from down stairs snaps him out of his train of thought. He has to face you eventually, he thinks, opening the bathroom door and beginning his descent down the stairs to rejoin everyone, he can’t put it off any longer. He heads down the stairs and into the living room, ruffling Max’s hair and exchanging good mornings.

“Did you sleep okay?” he and Max are newest to all this stuff, and he the last thing he wants is for her to be afraid of anything. He takes solace in the fact that it’s not everyone’s first time at the rodeo.

“Yeah,” she replies, seeming as normal as could be expected under the circumstances, which puts his mind at ease. “How about you?”

“I…” he trails off, knowing this is the worst possible time and place to bare his soul and confess his sins, “slept. I guess.”

“Coffee’s in the kitchen.” she replies without missing a beat.

“So I heard,” he mutters, before heading in that direction. He enters the kitchen, stopping in the doorway

Steve is smothering you in kisses, turning you into a giggling mess. You playfully smack his chest, and he barely pulls away enough to talk.

“Y’know, you really should be nicer to me. I have a booboo eye.”

“Oh, of course,” you say, feigning concern, “I’ll call an ambulance right away.”

“Y’know, a sexy nurse would probably do the job,” he says quietly, nuzzling into your neck.

“Oh… my god.” you laugh in disbelief, “You really are the worst, Harrington, you know that?”

It gets hard to breathe for a minute, as everything he felt last night, and this morning come rushing back, full force. He lets out a soft laugh at the situation. He actually thought he had all this under control for a minute. All of this is amplified as you hand him a cup of coffee.

“Morning sleepyhead,” you smile, passing by. Steve pats his chest

“Will you tell her she’d be an amazing nurse?”

Billy, too flustered to think but just fucking overjoyed to be included, scrambles for an answer.

“I mean…” he says with a smile he hopes comes across as cocky and not lovestruck.

You turn to Steve.

“You’re a terrible influence. I don’t want you around my kids.”

“Oh they’re your kids now?”

“Call me mommy!” you call over your shoulder. Steve and Billy watch you walk away, and Steve says, partially to himself, partially to Billy, “I can not get enough of her, you know?” Steve follows you back into the living room. Billy watches both of you drink coffee and eat breakfast, chatting with the kids.

“Yeah,” he breathes, once again wracked with a visceral sense of longing, a deep empty feeling, the cure for which is painfully within grasp but still intangible, in spite of how much he might try, “I do.”

tag list: @hopefullhearts

#steve harrington x reader #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove smut #harringrove x reader #stranger things x reader #steve x reader x billy #okay so i've been working on my script for my stranger things dr #lemme know if yall want excerpts from that #i might turn part of it into a fic actually #there's a really cute part where steve writes his number on a zippo and gives it to you #i made that up before i found out he uses a zippo on the show #so uh #psychic moment uwu #um yeah i've been daydreaming about this exact scenario since I met billy #like #brain rot city here I am #for gods sake do i think of anything else ever #the anser is not

1K notes · View notes

upside-down-theater-kid · 2 years

Text

Arms Around Shoulders

“Can I put my arm around you?” He nods and I do. “I’m scared, too, y’know. It’s unfair. The price increase for the papes..it’s messed up. It’s ridiculous…but we’ll get through it together. After tomorrow, Pulitzer won’t know what hit him. And Albert….I-I-I,” There are so many words on the tip of my tongue that I can’t say. Not here, not now. “I-I-I’m staying with you, no matter what happens.”

Race doesn't realize just how much he loves Albert until he's injured during the strike.

Content warning: cursing and non-graphic violence (please let me know if I should add something else)

Thank you so much to my friends (including @melancholypolywog) who gave me feedback and @broadwayismybestfriend and @oliviaaaah for the endless enthusiasm!

(There are author's notes at the end)

Read it on ao3!

“I was having the most wonderful dream last night. My lips are still tingling,” says Albert. I roll my eyes.

“Was it about a pretty girl? Why would you want to kiss a girl when you could just sell the papes with me,” I ask sarcastically. It’s a question that I’ve been asking myself ever since we first met.

“No,” he replies. “It was about a leg of lamb!” Just as I’m about to tease him for his love of lamb, he yanks my cigar out of my hand.

“Hey, that’s my cigar!” He throws it several stories down and onto the ground.

“You’ll steal another.” He’s right. I’ve stolen before and I will again. Sometimes it’s cigars, sometimes it’s food in the winter when nobody ever has enough.

“Hey, you two,” shouts Jack. “Get down here or there won’t be any papers left for you to sell!”

“We’re coming! You’d miss me if I wasn’t there,” I yell back sarcastically. Al wraps his arm around me, and the warmth of his hands makes me smile.

“You ready for this, Race,” he asks.

“What kind of a newsie would I be if I wasn’t?” We walk down the fire escape and our footsteps in sync, and are prepared for whatever today will bring us. There’s always something, but it doesn’t matter as long as he’s by my side.

When we make our way down, there are two people that I don’t recognize. One’s a lanky guy with dark hair and nicer clothes than mine who looks to be around Jack’s age. The other is shorter, probably his kid brother.

“You buy back the newspapers that we don’t sell, right,” asks the older one when he reaches the front of the line. Everyone laughs.

“Who do you think you are? If you don’t sell the papes, you eat ‘em!” Wiesel laughs at his own joke. The Delanceys just stare at the new people intently. They give everyone the intense treatment when they’re new, but they always treat the girls harsher than the guys. That prick Morris still picks on Albert a lot, because he hates making eye contact and doesn’t know what to say when caught off-guard. The new guy introduces himself as Davey Jacobs, and his younger brother is Les, a nine year old with the enthusiasm that only comes from being new at this job.

I remember when Al was new around here. I’d been selling papers for a few years, and I had more experience than some of the others. One day, this new kid named Albert DaSilva shows up, and asks me if he knows of any good spots to sell the papers. I offer to show him around, and the rest is history. We were only eleven at the time, but even at that age I felt differently about Al than I did with my other friends. I’d only ever felt that way about some of the girls that I knew, but my feelings for Albert were more intense than that. I always have a wide grin on my face when he wrapped his arm around my shoulder, or when he would briefly look at me. I love talking to him, and I don’t think that I could ever get tired of hearing his voice, even when it’s just him telling me to not be so impulsive. He doesn’t know how much I love him. Telling him never seemed right, but I will. Someday when it feels perfect. Today isn’t that day. Maybe tomorrow will be.

It’s evening outside, and I’m with Al as he’s finishing selling his last few papers. He’s always had a bit of a hard time selling them, but I was fine with staying out a bit later. When we were kids, we made a game of coming up with fake headlines to sell more papers. We still do it to this day.

“You’ve always been good at selling the papes, Race. I don’t know how you do it,” he says with his hands empty and nothing left to sell.

“Awww, come on Al. You’re not half-bad yourself. There’s no one else I’d rather work side by side with, six days of the week.” He smiles his perfect grin at me and I can’t help but do the same. He lets his hair loose. He always looks so handsome when he does that.

“We should be heading back to the lodging house. It’s getting dark out.” He slips his hand into mine as we walk back. We’ve been doing that for a while now. I’m tempted to kiss his cheek, but I can’t. That’s too obvious, even for me, and we’re way more affectionate than our other friends. I’m blushing the entire walk home.

I’ve finished selling my papes and Al drags me into an alley and draws me close and his lips are almost touching mine and - the bell rings. It was all just a dream. A fantasy that will never come true. I drowsily walk downstairs and towards another day of work. Jack is first in line for his papers, like always.

“It’s sixty cents for a hundred papers, Kelly,” says Wiesel as Jack gives him his 50 cents.

“But it’s always been fifty cents,Weisel,” he protests.

“Not anymore,” sneers Oscar. “Sixty cents, pay up.” Everyone murmurs. Why is he doing this? We barely survive as it is, and now we have to pay an extra dime for the same amount of papes?

“That’s bullshit. Pulitzer is already wiping his ass with cash, so why should we have to pay an extra ten cents?” Everyone else starts screaming along with me. Albert starts tapping his foot with no sign of stopping. Davey stares at Jack intently as he leads everyone away from the Delanceys and Weisel. I stay back with a nervous Albert.

“Can I put my arm around you?” He nods and I do. “I’m scared, too, y’know. It’s unfair. The price increase for the papes..it’s messed up. It’s bullshit…but we’ll get through it together. After tomorrow, Pulitzer won’t know what hit him. And Albert….I-I-I,” There are so many words on the tip of my tongue that I can’t say. Not here, not now. “I-I-I’m staying with you, no matter what happens.”

“So will I, Race,” he replies. He’s stopped stimming, and I think he’s less worried. He leads me towards everyone else. He holds my hand. He’s never done that before. I smile at him and he grins back. I love him.

“Race! Albert! You ready to strike tomorrow,” says Finch.

“You bet we are,” I shout back. Albert raises his fist with a grimace on his face.

“Hey, you three! I need to talk to you,” says Jack as he approaches us.

“What about,” I ask as he sits down next to us.

“You three,” he begins. “Have always had a knack for getting yourselves into trouble. Mostly Race and Finch,” Al smiles at that. “And you especially Race. You just say whatever you think,” he pauses. “Just…..don’t get yourselves hurt or into trouble tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay,” we murmur in agreement. Elmer is shouting about something that we can’t make out.

“Hey, quiet down! Some of us need to get some sleep before a strike,” Jack hollers. With that, people start quieting down. No one wants to disrespect the authority of our new union leader. Both he and Finch leave.

It’s dark out here on the fire escape stairs at night. Normally Al would be looking up at the sky and gazing at the stars, but he’s looking at the ground, deep in thought.

“Hey, Race,” he asks. “How long do you think this strike will last? Those trolley workers have been striking for three weeks now… Do you think that will happen to us?”

“I don’t know how long it’s going to last. I don’t know how long it will be before they put the price of the papes back down to normal. It can’t last three weeks. It can’t. We can’t go three weeks without pay, because that’s three weeks without food….” I can’t stop myself from spiraling. Albert wraps his arm around me.

“Race, breathe in. Breathe out. It will be okay. You have me, remember?”

“But, Al,” I protest. “Nothing is going to happen from this. We’re just teenagers without a plan.”

“We’re teenagers with a cause and Pulitzer can’t top that, can he?” He glances at me briefly and I look back at him. He does his happy stim and looks away from me. I wish I knew why. “We should probably be going to sleep soon,” says Albert.

“Oh yeah, we should. Good night!”

“Good night.” He smiles at me before walking away. I wish I had the guts to say “I love you.” before I told him “good night.” Someday I will. Someday.

Albert is stimming as we’re waiting for the newsies from other boroughs to show up, and I put my hand on his shoulder.

“Do you think they’re coming,” I ask him. I don’t think they are, but I don’t know if I’m the only pessimist here.

“No,” he replies. “I think we’re on our own for the strike.” He squeezes my shoulder. Several minutes pass by and murmurs of “no one is coming” and “it’s just us” become more and more common. Scabs start lining up to get their papes.

“Davey, please.” I hear Jack plead from a few feet away. “You’ve got to say something. Convince them to stand with us on the strike.” He stares at him.

“Listen up,” Davey turns towards them. “Maybe the others aren’t coming. Maybe we’re on our own. But we still have to get out there and fight for what is right. We need to seize the day. We’ll find a way to stop this…” I tune him out. I’m so worried about everyone and what could happen to them if this doesn’t go according to plan. I don’t think I could stand to see any of the others hurt. I couldn’t stand it to see Albert hurt. If the strike fails, I don’t know what will happen to us, and if we’ll get carted off to the Refuge or what. Albert can’t get stuck there, he can’t.

When I finally snap out of it, they’ve joined us, and so have some others. They’re teenagers around our age, hired muscle to stop us from striking. They throw the first punches. I’m able to fight them off, but I’m still getting bruises that will look nasty tomorrow, and it looks like Al will as well. The others are having a harder time, and Les and Specs are getting beat up pretty bad. Suddenly, the police arrive.

“Finally! It was about time you showed up!” Right after Specs says that, one of those pigs punches him. Fuck the police. They start pummeling the other newsies and screaming at them to stop striking. They’re going to keep on hurting them, the only people that I’ve ever considered my family. I stay by Albert’s side. Some thugs start punching us and we punch back. I’m bruised and sore, but I’m able to keep going and fight them off. Al is able to get one off him as well, but I’m worried that he’ll have a black eye tomorrow.

We’re about to go help our friends with their fights, but the Delanceys appear and Oscar hits me before I can make the first move. I wish the pain would stop for just a second, and for my ears to stop ringing. Morris punches Al in the stomach. I try to help him, but Oscar shoves me to the ground before I can do anything. My head is pounding and I’m bleeding a bit. Just as I stand up, he does it to me again. It looks like Morris is giving Albert the same treatment. Everything is sore, and my nose is bleeding. Once I’m up and have regained my balance, I’m able to deliver some punches to Oscar with sore and swollen fingers.

“Eat shit,” I shout. Just as I’ve almost got him to the ground, Morris kicks Al repeatedly and stomps on his leg. Albert howls in pain as the brothers run away to torment someone else.

Time seems to slow down as Al is falling to the ground. Everyone is screaming and fighting around us, but I tune it all out. I can’t hear or see anything happening around me. There’s just his face and the tears in his eyes that he’s holding back and the ones that are already falling down; his swollen and bloody lip and his unruly hair. Just before he falls to the ground, I catch him in my arms.

“Al, I love you,” I say softly before he goes unconscious. Time goes by in a blur as I pick him up and run through the crowd. I need to get him to the lodging house. Somewhere safer where no one is trying to beat him up. I’m able to get to the lodging house and lie him down. I hope he’s okay. I need him to be okay. I can’t lose anyone else.

It’s getting dark outside when Al opens his eyes and tries to sit up.

“Race? Is that you,” he asks quietly. I can’t stop myself from grinning.

“Yeah, it’s me. I’m glad you’re awake. I was so worried about you.” It’s getting late, and for a while I didn’t know if he would even wake up.

“I think I need to lie down,” mumbles Albert and he puts his head back down. I lie down next to him. We gaze into each other’s eyes for a second before he looks away. “What happened when I was knocked out,” he asks. I pause for a second.

“After you were knocked out, I ran you up here,” he nods. “A few hours later, Davey came by to tell me that Snyder took Crutchie. He took Crutchie to the Refuge,” I say solemnly.

“Wait, you stayed here all day waiting for me to wake up,” he asks.

“Yeah, of course I did,” I reply. “What did you expect? That I would just leave you here all alone?”

“Before the strike I thought that you would have just…kept on protesting without me,” he says slowly.

“I needed to make sure that you were safe. If I had left you here and something bad happened…..I don’t think I could have forgiven myself.” As he blushes and inches closer to me, he makes eye contact.

“I sort of remember what you said before I passed out. And….did you actually that you love me? Or did I just imagine that?” My jaw drops. He remembered that? What do I say to him? “I hope you said it, because I love you too.” My heart is pounding. I don’t know what to say. “Race,” he pauses. “Can I kiss you?”

“Yeah,” I answer softly. I never thought we would, but we do, and for a moment it feels like it’s just me and him alone in the world.

“I’ve dreamed of doing that for such a long time,” I say softly.

“How long,” he asks.

“Around the time when we first met. I felt differently about you from anyone else I knew,” I’ve wanted to tell him this for so long. He smiles.

“I’ve always loved the only newsboy who let me sell papes with him when I was new.” I brush his loose hair away from his eyes.

“Selling with you on your first day was the best decision I ever made.” I look at him for a second. “Can I kiss you again?”

“For sure.”

Author's Notes:

oH nO oUr AlBeRt It'S bRoKen

(I know it's an outdated reference but I couldn't resist)

I was going to write this in third person...but I didn't want to get out of my comfort zone and once I started I couldn't stop. Hopefully it will be different in the next fic.

#reblogging to get the word out is appreciated #newsies #newsies fanfiction #ralbert #race x albert #albert x race #racetrack higgins #albert dasilva #autistic albert dasilva #autistic character written by an autistic person #the word 'stimming' wouldn't have been used at the time but i don't care #canon-era #takes place during canon with some adjustments #bi racetrack higgins #bi albert dasilva #cursing tw #chaotic fanfiction from me

37 notes · View notes

rowyn-writes · 3 years

Text

A Mother's Love Part Two

Warnings: Pregnancy, fluff, major angst, implications of depression

Pairings: Dean x Wife!Reader

Characters: Dean, Jack, Sam, Reader, Cas (Mentioned only)

Word count: 3k

You sat on the couch of your childhood home, staring blankly at the T.V. Your knees were pulled up to your chin as you had your arms wrapped around your legs. It had been three weeks since you left the bunker, and you felt empty inside.

Your mother sat beside you, a cup of tea and honey in her hand and a concerned look on her face. "Darling, you have to eat something. I know you haven't been feeling well, but you still need to stay healthy." You didn't respond to her as she set the cup of tea in your hands.

Everything felt numb. It was like you didn't feel any emotions at all. The world felt dull. Like all color had been stripped and it left you in darkness.

"Sweetheart, what happened?" She asked softly. Even though you had been with your parents for almost a month now, you had never fully discussed what happened with Dean.

"Mom, please-"

"No, Y/N." She put her foot down. "You call me one day, clearly upset saying that you and Jack were going to stay here for a while. You get here and you don't look like the daughter that I knew. You've changed."

You scoffed at your mother's words. "I'm getting a divorce, of course I've changed."

She sucked in a breath of air. "Y/N. What happened?" You gave your mother a brief rundown of what happened with you, Dean and Jack. "Oh, honey." She sympathized. "I am so sorry. You know that you and Jack are welcomed to stay as long as you like. I know your father is excited to have a grandchild."

Your heart skipped a beat as you looked up to your mother. "What?"

"Jack, of course." She explained. "Look at them. Your dad's so happy. It's about time you give us a grandson."

"Lord knows you couldn't count on Chris for that." You rolled your eyes. "He can't keep a girl to save his life." Your smile began to fade slightly as your stomach did flips. Your mom noticed your green complexion and ran to grab a trash can. It was nearly too late as you felt your dinner from last night coming back up. She held your hair back as you did so, calling for your dad to get a wet washcloth.

You felt a cold cloth across your forehead, cooling your body. "Mom!" Jack said worriedly. "Are you okay?.

"She's okay, kiddo." Your dad assured him. "She's just not feeling too well." He mumbled skeptically.

You sat back against the couch, holding the rag to your head. "Jack," Your mom called. "Why don't you and I go make some cookies?"

Jack smiled at the idea, looking to you for approval. "You don't have to ask me, sweetheart. Go have fun."

You mother dipped down to whisper something unintelligible in your dad's ear before going to the kitchen.

"Y/N," He shook his head. "Why didn't you tell us sooner?"

"Because I don't want it to be real." You muttered. "I don't want to think about the last thing that Dean said to me or the look on his face. I want to wake up and for this whole thing to be a dream. But I know it's not. I won't wake up next to him tomorrow and I don't get to tell him how much I love him." You chocked on a sob, covering you mouth with your hand so Jack wouldn't hear.

"Oh, my sweet girl." Your dad said softly, pulling you into his side. "I am so sorry, my darlin'." You rested your head on his shoulder as tears slipped down your cheeks. "That's not it, though. Is it? There's something else."

"Papa, I think I'm pregnant." You confessed. "I'm late and I've been sick all week."

"Have you taken a test yet?" He asked. You shook your head. "Okay, I'll tell you what. I'll go by the drug store and get a couple of tests, just to be sure, and I'll grab you some food on the way home. How does that sound?"

"Great." You said with a small smile. He kissed the top of your head before grabbing the keys and heading out of the house.

---

Five.

Five tests that had come back positive. Each one that you looked at made your heart sink more and more. "Oh god." You whimpered. "Damnit."

"What does it say, sweetie?" Your mother questioned from the other side of the door. You slowly opened it up and showed her the positive pregnancy test.

"Are they all positive?" You nodded.

"What am I gonna do?"

"I think you should call Dean-"

"No." You said firmly. "I'm not calling Dean. He made it very obvious that he didn't want anything to do with me anymore."

"Y/N," Your mother spoke firmly. "I'm not justifying what Dean said or did in the moment, however, he was just as hurt as you were because you were leaving with Jack and you didn't know how long you would be gone. I really think you should call him. I think he would want to know you're pregnant with his baby."

You sighed at her words. You knew she had a point. She was your mother, she's always right. "What if he doesn't care?" You whispered. "What if he hears my voice and hands up on me?"

"Then that's his loss, honey." She cooed. "The least you can do is try."

---

MEANWHILE, AT THE BUNKER;

"Dean." Sam shook his brother. "Dean. C'mon dude, wake up."

Dean groaned as his eyes peeled open. "What?" He grumbled.

"You've been sleeping in here all night." Sam said, crossing his arms. "You should probably get some rest in your own bed, or at the very least, the couch. And charge your phone while you're at it, it's dead."

Dean stretched add he looked at the empty whiskey bottle set on the table and the picture of your wedding day beside it. It had been a rough few weeks since you had left. "You know I can't go sleep in that damn bed." He growled.

"Dean, I offered to switch rooms with you-"

"I don't want to switch rooms!" He snapped. "I want my wife back."

Sam frowned as he looked at his brother. He looked awful. He hasn't shaven in weeks, his hair's a mess, and there were dark circles under his eyes.

"Why don't you call her, Dean?"

"Because, after what I said, she'll never take me back. I was too harsh on her. Plus my phone is broken."

"One, you have ten phones, and two, yeah, you were a complete ass." Sam agreed. "You should have seen her when she left here. I had never seen anyone so. . . Broken before. You know they sparkle she had in her eyes?" Dean nodded. "It was gone. Her entire face seemed dull, almost like she had aged ten years."

Dean put his head in his hands, feeling defeated. "What have I done?"

"I don't know, but you had better make it right."

---

"Still no answer?" Your father asked. You had called Dean three times now and still no answer.

"Nope. Not a sound."

"I'm sorry honey," Your mother sympathized, rubbing your back. It's that anything we can do?"

"Yeah," You nodded. "I need space. I need to spend more time with Jack before the baby comes. I just want to know what it's like to be a mother."

"Of course." Your dad agreed. "Take the keys to the cabin in Colorado. I know that's a lot of good memories there and no pesky neighbors to worry about "

"Thanks, dad." You smiled. "We'll be outta here soon."

"You don't have to leave in a rush, kiddo. You know that we love having you here."

"I know."

---

"Why are we going to your parents cabin in Colorado?" Jack asked curiously as he peered out the window.

"Uh," You bit your lip as you tried to come up with a suitable lie to tell Jack. You hated how much you were lying to Jack lately, but you knew that he wouldn't understand the things that you were going through. "I just wanted to show you the place and stay up there for a little while. It's nice and quiet, you'll love it. It's cold up there and it's snowy in the winter. I used to go sledding all the time when I was younger and then my parents would call me in for hot chocolate and a movie. We can do that together. How does that sound, Jack?"

"It sounds great, Mom!" He smiled goofily. Every time he called you 'Mom,' your heart melted. You loved that Jack felt so comfortable around you to call you his mother. You knew that you would never be able to replace Kelly, and you would never want to, but you did want to make him feel safe and loved. You wanted Jack to know what a mother's love feels like. Jack blamed himself for the death of his mother, and you understood his grief, but you had told him time and time again that it wasn't his fault. Kelly wanted to go through with the pregnancy and refused to listen to anyone else's opinions on the matter. You just wished he understood that.

You felt a tear roll down your cheek, quickly wiping it away. "What's wrong, Mom?" Jack questioned. "Is it about Dean?"

You glanced over at Jack in surprise. "Why would you say that?"

"Well, Sam and Dean aren't here, and Dean hasn't called you to check up on you since we left. I know that whenever you go on a hunt by yourself, Dean calls you everyday to make sure you're okay."

You sighed heavily as you looked at the road in front of you. "Dean and I are. . . Going through a tough time right now. That's why I wanted to get away for a while. And I didn't want to go by myself, so that's why I wanted you to come with me."

"Are we ever going back to the bunker?"

"I don't know. . . It's a difficult situation, Jack. Right now, I don't think that I will be going back home anytime soon. But if you want to go back, I'll take you back. I don't want to make you do anything you don't want to do."

"I want to stay with you." He said firmly. "But I also want you to be happy. You don't look happy anymore. You don't smile or laugh the way you used to. You sit on the couch watching reruns of Friends, and I've heard you crying at night. Sometimes I think you forget that I don't sleep very much."

You said nothing in response, knowing that Jack was right. You wanted to call Dean one more time, but you knew it was fruitless. He wasn't going to answer. But you did have Sam. When you finally arrived at the cabin, you sent Jack to unpack while you dialed Sam's number. After three rings, he finally picked up.

"Hello, Y/N? Are you okay? How's Jack?" He asked in one breath.

"Hey, Sammy. I'm fine, and so is Jack. I just wanted to call and make sure that you haven't gotten killed by anything."

"Nope, we're still alive." He gave a small chuckle. "How are you, Y/N, really? Don't lie to me, because I know when you're lying."

"I miss him." You sniffed. "Being away from him hurts me." Your voice cracked, forcing you to clear your throat. "We've been married for five years. And I know that to the average person that doesn't seem like a long time, but we're hunters, Sam. You know how hard it is to stay in a relationship in our line of work. I've been in love with him for half my life, and now, for us to be in this situation, it sucks, Sam. I can't think of any other word to describe it. It really fucking sucks."

Sam was quiet for a moment as he listened to you cry. "I'm sorry this is happening, Y/N. I never thought that this would happen to you and Dean. But I've known Dean my whole life, and I've known you since we were twenty, so I think that I'm entitled to make a judgement on this." You let out a small laugh. "You two have been in love longer than you've been together, but both of you have been to dumb to realize it. You argue like cats and dogs because you're so certain about what you believe in. You're both so passionate about things that you never let up. And now that you're finally together, you have been so happy. Dean has never felt this way about anyone that he's been with, male or female. He loves you so much, Y/N, that it kills him. You have both come too far to for things to end like this. I'm going to tell you the exact same thing I told Dean; fix this."

"I want to, Sammy, I just don't know how."

"Stop hiding, for one. You can't fix something when you're hundreds of miles away." You groaned as you felt a wave of nausea was over you. "Y/N?" You quickly made your way to the bathroom. "Y/N? What's going on? Are you okay?"

You leaned against the wall once you were done throwing up. "Yeah, yeah, Sam, I'm okay."

"What was that about, then?" Sam questioned. When you didn't answer, he began putting the pieces together himself. "You're pregnant."

"SHH!" You hissed. "Don't say that!"

"Why not? Because you don't want Dean to know?" He spoke coldly.

"Sam, please, don't say anything."

"How long have you known, Y/N? And how long do you plan on keeping this from Dean?"

You sighed as you pinched the bridge of your nose. "I've known for a couple of days, okay? And I don't know when or how I'm going to tell Dean. He made it very clear that he didn't want anything to do with me the last time we talked. Besides, I tried to call him and he didn't answer my calls, so don't try to pin me off as the bad guy here."

"When did you try to call him?" The hard edge in Sam's voice disappeared.

"Three days ago, when I found out I was pregnant."

You could hear Sam let out a small laugh. "Three days ago I came in the kitchen to find Dean passed out on the table, hung over as hell and holding on to the picture of your wedding day. And beside him was his broken phone. His main phone, which I'm assuming is the one that you called?"

"Yeah. . ." You said meekly.

"Hang up and call his second phone. Please, will you do that for me?"

"Yes," You nodded, even though you knew he couldn't see you.

"I love you, Y/N/N."

"I love you too, Sammy." You sighed as you hung up the phone. You were terrified to call Dean. You hadn't spoken to him since that night all those weeks ago. You were still hurt, and you knew that Dean was hurting as well, and all you wanted was to hear his voice. You took a deep breath as you dialed his second phone number.

It rang five times before going to voicemail, making your heart sink. Not a minute later, the number called back. "Hello?"

"Y/N." Dean's voice said gruffly. "Sam told me you were going to call."

"Did. . . Did he tell you anything else?" You asked.

"Just that I needed to talk to you. What's going on?"

"I miss you," You confessed. You needed to tell Dean everything, and that included telling him how you felt. "I hate the way things ended between us, and I know that it wasn't solely on you or me. But I love you, Dean, and I will never stop loving you. And I know it's unfair I left and this is how I'm trying to get you back; over the phone. I would much rather be doing this in person. But I love you, Dean, and I always will. No matter what you say or do, I love you."

You could hear Dean struggling to breathe correctly. "Where are you?"

"My parents cabin, wh-"

"I'll be tomorrow morning." And with that, he hung up.

---

You paced back and forth in the living room, biting your nails. Dean didn't say what time he was going to be here, but he just said that he would be here in the morning. You had stayed up all night thinking about him. About the way his hair fell into his face after a shower, and how he always smelled like whiskey and firewood. The way his eyes would crinkle at the edges whenever he laughed, really laughed. But your favorite thing was when you had just finished a hunt, and you would go to lie down in bed, Dean would pull you close to him and whisper how much he loves you.

A sharp knock at the door snapped you out of your trance. "Who is it, Mom?" Jack asked, peering around the corner.

"Why don't you come see, kiddo." You wiped your sweaty palms on your jeans before opening the door to reveal Sam and Dean. "Hi," You smiled. Sam was the first to come inside and hug you. He grinned as he pulled away, ruffling your hair.

"Why don't I take Jack into town for a little bit while you guys work this out?" He suggested.

"Yeah, yeah, that sounds good. Jack, go put on your shoes, you're going into town with Sam for a little while." Jack beamed at your works, hurriedly putting his shoes on a following Sam out the door.

"Hi," You said once more after Sam and Jack were gone. Dean didn't say a word as he hugged you tightly. You melted into his touch, feeling comfort in his embrace. The familiar smell of whiskey and firewood filled your nostrils. You closed your eyes to savor this moment. "I missed you."

"I missed you too."

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

taglist:

@vicariouslythruspn @mimaria420 @fofisstilinski @daphnen21 @katwed @anunstablefangirl @desimarie12 @alderpine @rebeccaitsnotwhatyouthink @akshi8278

Also, yes, there will be a part 3

#dean x reader #dean winchester #dean winchester angst #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester imagine #Sam Winchester #jack kline imagine #Jack Kline #jack imagine #supernatural #Supernatual #Supernatural angst #supernatural imagine #supernatural fluff #supernatural x reader

311 notes · View notes

lilmissbacon · 4 years

Text

Adding Characters to the Big Four (RotBTD)

I've already made a post about just "How the Big Four Work so well (discussion)" which talks about their personalities are and what their stories have in common, as well as what criteria they follow.

So if you want to understand exactly what I'm talking about I'd recommend you read this first:

Now I'm gonna go into what characters would fit and why. So if you want to add other movies to this world, I would recommend Moana, Epic, The Croods or maybe even Hotel Transylvania and here's why:

Moana – Begins with narration but ends with a song. Although it's a song that sums up what Moana had learned and what her people have now become. So it is, its own form of narration. She also goes through the journey of finding herself by becoming a wayfinder like her ancestors.

Moana definitely adds to the groups resources with being friends with the ocean, knowing about the realm of monsters and being friends with Maui & Te Fiti. She would definitely get along great with the big four friend dynamic in many ways.

Hiccup: through their ability to lead and quick thinking. They also both understand what it's like to grow up on an island with their fathers being the leader who expects certain things from them.

Rapunzel: because they understand going against a parent's wishes and working to make their dreams/wishes come true. They also have the same type of bubbly personality and would converse well.

Jack: they both understand what if feels like to be chosen for something they feel they're not ready for and what it feels like to be an outsider from the people around them.

Merida: their tough and somewhat playful nature as well as their diplomacy skills match each other so well. They'd definitely be the closest of the group because of their strong personalities.

Out of a friend group consisting of: the girly-girl, a troublemaker a nerd and a tomboy, she fits into the literary dynamic through being the 'athlete.' In battle, consisting of: a leader/strategist, a healer, a sniper(bow and arrow) and a speed fighter, Moana fits in as the 'close combatant' in battle.

The magic also can still follow the guidelines of rotg. They speak about Gods but what if there really aren't any? The only 'God' we see is Te Fiti, who is the bringer of life. Or in other words; Mother Nature. The God that had raised Maui could've actually been the man in the moon and that would be how Maui was given magic and doesn't age. He goes around, calling himself a demigod but in reality, he's a spirit. And of course he's able to be seen since everyone on Motunui believes in the demi/gods.

Seasonally, Moana would most obviously be put in summer. But there are a lot of people who feel that adding more characters to the big four kind of breaks the seasonal aspect and that's fine.

But here me out.

The seasons effect the land on earth but if Moana is a spirit of the ocean, then she's effecting the rest of the earth's surface. The ocean doesn't necessarily have seasons so you don't need to apply one to her in order for her to add to the group. BOOM! Loophole!

I believe she's the BEST additional choice out of them all. Plus she'd definitely be chosen to become a guardian because *cough cough* SHE SAVED THE WORLD FROM DECAY.

Eep – A lot of applications for Moana fit for Eep too. She has narration at the beginning and end of her film. She'd fit in literarily as the 'athlete' and battle-wise as 'close constant/brawler.'

She also kind of has an arc of finding herself by leaving her cave days behind and following the light with her family. And being that she's from the caveman days –a time even before Moana– she could definitely add to the group with her survival skills.

Eep's dynamic with the others would be:

Hiccup: he understands overly strong women and would be able to keep up with her. She also has an innocent side to her and would be enthralled with his inventions. She'd just sit there and watch him work 😆

Rapunzel: being that Eep is getting a new friend in Dawn (who reminds me of Rapunzel) in "The Croods 2," I would imagine Rapunzel would also be intrigued with Eep's scars/adventures and Eep would be more than happy to boast.

Merida: their roughness and competitive nature would make them the best frienemies. They'd be closer than ever but do nothing but wrestle and compete.

Jack: like how Eep would boast with Rapunzel, Jack would boast with Eep. She would be in love with Jack's magic and he'd be more than happy to show off.

There really isn't a magical aspect to compare with rotg so the world can still fit into the dynamic here.

Eep is witty, optimistic, energetic, speaks without thinking and fails to plan ahead a lot. Therefore, as a seasonal spirit, Eep would bring spring.

MK – Begins with narration but doesn't really have any at the end. She can add to the groups resources by knowing about the leafmen and the whole mini society, of course.

The magic also stays in line with rotg and it probably helps that the creator of Epic was also the author of the Guardians of Childhood books that inspired rotg. The moon is what blooms the pod, so it's possibly the man in the moon passing his magic into the pod so it gives the next queen her powers.

In the literary dynamic, MK would be the 'city girl' friend-wise and the 'reanforcement' fight-wise. Getting along with the rest would be:

Hiccup: she would be a sense of familiarity with MK's dad being a scientist and Nod's sarcastic nature. Hiccup would also be very intrigued to learn more about the Moonhaven kingdom.

Merida: their stubbornness and being able to understand having a parent that doesn't listen.

Rapunzel: their (new) love for nature and exploring. As well as being able to understand the pain of losing a loved one.

Jack: understanding the feeling of being invisible to the people around you. MK definitely felt this way after her mom died and when her dad wasn't listening. She mentioned how she felt alone to Ronan when he brought up the "many leaves, one tree," line.

I believe she could've been chosen to become a guardian because she did save an entire society and forest. Seasonally, I believe MK would be made into a fall spirit. There are certain places that relate to or even represent the seasons. When you think of Fall, you think of trees. Spring relates to a field/garden, summer relates to a beach and winter relates to just about everything being in snow, but usually frozen bodies of water. She's also very dependable, willing to work, disagreeable and easily irritated. All traits that relate to Autumn.

Mavis – Probably the least workable candidate. There really isn't any narration in this movie and she also doesn't really "find herself" either so her movie criteria don't really work here.

But her character criteria still does. The magic still fits because we know that spirits are created by the man in the moon. If we go by the GoC books, the mim is alien magic. But who's to say that earth didn't have its own magic in the form of monsters (which can also fit for the realm of monsters from Moana.) So the magical dynamic still works.

She could also add to the group by knowing about monsters as well as being a vampire herself. She could turn into a bat or travel as smoke to sneak around places to find information if need be.

She'd fit in literarily as the 'gothic (not so much as personality but by style)' friend-wise and the 'sneak attacker' fight-wise. Getting along with the rest would be:

Jack: there are many takes on the Jack Frost myth and in a few of those takes, he's a monster. The reason for this could be because Jack has come across Hotel Transylvania and the monsters could see him (not being human and all) and he befriended Mavis, knowing she was lonely. They have the same type of fun personality and are both great with balancing tricks. I can imagine Jack getting Mavis into trouble through pranking the hotel guests.

Rapunzel: they'd both be able to understand being locked up in some way by a parent and wanting to travel the world. They both also have naiveties about the real world and would be learning things for the first time together.

Merida: through their daily activities and love for food. I could imagine them trying each other's scream-cheese and haggis😂 I'd also imagine Merida being the one to help Mavis socially catch up.

Hiccup: much like Eep, she'd be incredibly intrigued by Hiccups inventions. I think she'd even try anything to assist him while he's testing certain things. I can imagine him also being the one to help Mavis socially catch up as well.

She's very curious, friendly, energetic and tender-hearted as well as undecided and talkative. So seasonally, she too, would go to spring. She unfortunately can't go into sunlight but there are plants that actually do better in darkness. That would be where she specializes.

I hope you all like this. I hope you find this whole thing very interesting and informational. If you have any other characters you think could add to the big four, I'd love to hear it.

#the big 4 #the big four #rise of the guardians #rise of the brave tangled dragons #rotbtd #how to train your dragon #httyd #tangled #brave #hotel transylvania #the croods #epic #moana

48 notes · View notes

dradelcra · 4 years

Text

Let me add onto my theory real quick on parts that might break it:

The images i'm going to show you can be interpreted in two or more ways:

Theory 1: Lucy is Robert's half brother.

"They can't be related if Lucy lived in Whitechapel a pickpocketed people in the start"

1a. We have no idea where Robert's dad originally lived and Whitechapel is basically "The Slums" in which Jack the Ripper did his... well not respecting women. (Slums are areas where people squatted on crown land and now a days done illegally which causes a whole heap of problems for everyone because f*** the rich and living by the sewers or densely packed housing in self made buildings with little proper housing- sorry, rambling about Geography. Anyways, the place is culturally diverse so it's likely many immigrants and poor locals did their fair share of it).

A phrase, 'slumming in the city' is said to refer to people who 'fed off' of other people's resources which is very not gucci because the people are trying their best to live in a corrupt power system which disrespects the poor.

He could have been poor before, a hard worker and met Robert's mom one fateful evening and escaped the grasps of poverty. But in doing so he might have left behind another woman who had a child (Lucy). The man is crisp on his money and forced his own child to marry for it, we don't know how far this man will go for the bitter lard of capitalism.

(who knows, maybe he even took care of her before Robert was born).

1b. Just as Lucy says here, rich kids do this all the time.

Robert's dad might been one of those rich kids (cause people be wilding in their youth) and ended up finding love in Whitechapel. But just like Robert had to enter a forced marriage inevitably leaving his love and other child behind.

That's how she got her start so obviously she grew up in Whitechapel, but to what extent?

Theory 2: Lucy is Robert's full sister who ran away for love.

Now:

A child's age is obviously before 18 and with Lucy maybe having been of upper class status, she wouldn't be married off until 18. But, and as I said again, rich kids visited Whitechapel all the time. So as a rich kid herself, she engaged in those rich kid antics and grew her own seperate bank from her dad (in a sexist economy that didn't allow women to control their own money) (-oof, i got alot of opinion in this today, lmao)

She's clearly a badass chick who doesn't want to be stuck in a house all day, married to some moneybags man she didn't like. She wants to get her own coin (albeit illegally but y'know f*** the rich), be her own woman!

And in doing so, she found her loml (love of my life but refering to her saying this and not me because i'm... well you get the gist, real) Rachel's brother.

And that made her realize that "y'know what, f all of dat" and:

Before she was of marrying age.

Now problems:

Her eye colour is lighter than Robert's and her hair texture is different (but not by much, especially if we compared it to Mr. Pennebrygg) than his when we finally meet Lucy. But that could fit into the first part of my theory where Lucy is the bastard child of Lanyon's dad.

She also doesn't have freckles but that's a genetic thing and that stuff which I will NOT pull out the Punett sqaure for because I am lazy-

Okay, no i'm not, this takes two seconds to look up.

And as you can see, she'd then have a 50% chance of getting freckles. (Lanyon has freckles mostly because he is based off of his father anyways. His hair is visibly a different curl pattern because he's half white/and idk if ary changed that/so his is looser than Lucy's. If her mom was the same as robert, well mixed children can having varying results, the African physical traits gene is very strong.

She might have gotten her father's hair and skin tone but got her mother's eyes. Or it lightened due to the mother's eye colour.

(chart showing basic eye colours because there are many other eye colours but y'know, i'm not going to factor in purple eyes).

Like, genetics is basically a gambling game, and it sucks when people just get together so that they will have "pretty babies" and do that designer baby crap.

But we aren't here for my opinion, we are here for theory based on what we know and are assuming. (lmao)

So yeah, there is also this:

She messes up his name on purpose here clearly. And that could be seen as classical sibiling teasing because it would take more of an effort to say 'Langdon' than 'Lanyon' and-

She clearly wasn't paying much attention when Rachel introduced him but she managed to save that name quick after hearing it once. Even i'd have to hear a name more than that. This is either from Lucy being able to remember a hit list (for money) quick from her robbery job or she already knew Lanyon.

She also might have messed the name up on purpose out of disrespect to the family.

She might also be upset at Robert for maybe having done her wrong when they were younger and now the petty is strong? Thet may be trying to keep a facade of not knowing each other to prevent Lucy's dangerous life hurting her fam (because bad people like to go for the weakest links in other bad people to cut them down) or because Robert told her off (being brain washed by his parents that Lucy is very bad) for being a bad person and that she is a bad stain on the family's name and to not be associated with with them.

I don't know, it be like that sometimes.

Or-

Theory 3:

Everything i'm saying is absolute bollocks.

The theory could be snapped like an outstrectched rubber band just by word of the creator and honestly that's the fun thing about theories.

I am either right or not and that's okay. They might not even know each other. I just thought it was a cool theory!

Anyways, thanks for reading.

#This is so scary to update in drafts #Because it might not save for #Whatever reason #I LIVE ON THE EDGE #the glass scientists #the glass scientists spoilers #tgs lanyon #tgs lucy #Oh yeah theory time #tgs rachel #cc

69 notes · View notes

paceywittergayboatman · 4 years

Text

Jess is the Gay Subtext Gilmores Gay Meta

Jess within the Gilmores Gay subtext is Rory’s mirror. He has a lot in common with Rory: a negligent father who left, a mother who relies emotionally on him or isn't able to deal with her trauma and can't express love in an entirely healthy way, who are both into reading as an escape and a career path, both of there parents get remarried and have another kid and there are also legally cousins. He's also gay in the subtext(link at the bottom for my mini post on that.)

I’m gonna talk about episode 6.8. In which Rory and Jess talk and he essentially awakens something in Rory that brings back a part of herself that she lost. He also meets Logan but that for later on.

In the scene Jess and Rory talk after not seeing each other for awhile:

JESS: Yeah, and I didn't think you'd believe it if I didn't show it to you in person. (takes out a book and give it to her)

RORY: Well, colour me curious. A book. (reading the cover) "'The Subsect'...written by Jess Mariano."

JESS: It's no misprint.

RORY: You wrote a book?

JESS: A short novel.

RORY: You wrote a book?!

JESS: And through a fluke, I got it to these guys that have a small press, and they read it. I don't know if they were high or something, but they decided to publish it.

RORY: You wrote a book.

Subsect sounds a lot like subtext huh? By this time in the show he's already kind of admitted he's gay.(ill put a link at the end of this for that) So he does reflect her.

But then he goes to leave and lo and behold they run into Logan. We already know that Logan is gay given other things(link down at the bottom) So we know all the people in this scene are gay so put that into context makes this make sense. I’m gonna link the clip here https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QnTsSPKyzG0. Logan and Jess to put it plainly are eye fucking and Rory looks very umcomfortable:

RORY: No. Hey. When did you get back?

LOGAN: Couple hours ago.

RORY: Oh, I...I thought you were getting back tomorrow.

LOGAN: I thought I'd surprise you, Ace.

RORY: Well, I'm glad you did 'cause you get to meet my old friend, Jess. This is Logan, my boyfriend. Logan, this is Jess. He's in from out of town. (uncomfortable silence) Wow. That sounded so grown-up. We're at the age now where we say things like "in from out of town" and "old friend", 'cause when you're young, all your friends are new, and you have to get old to have old friends. (uncomfortable chuckling from Rory. Logan extends his hand to Jess)

LOGAN: How you doing? (they shake)

JESS: Okay.

RORY: We were just gonna go grab a bite to eat.

LOGAN: Great. Well, how about if we all go together. Is that okay?

JESS: Okay by me.

LOGAN: Good

RORY: All right. Good. We were actually at a loss for where to go, so you actually saved us.

LOGAN: Call me superman. (at Jess) Why don't you follow us.

JESS: Sure. (Logan puts his arm around Rory's shoulders and stears her to the passenger side of his car. Rory is a bit uncomfortable with the gesture)

Two things to note, Rory refers to jess as her friend, and Rory is in the script said to be uncomfortable. Which confirms my earlier theory.

They got to dinner and this shit gets gayer:

GAN: So...what do you do, Jess?

JESS: Oh, this and that.

LOGAN: Describe the "this". Describe the "that".

RORY: He writes.

LOGAN: You write? Impressive. What do you write?

JESS: Nothing important.

RORY: He wrote a book.

LOGAN: Oh, you penned the great American novel, Jess?

JESS: Wasn't quite that ambitious.

LOGAN: So, what are we talking here? Short novel? Kafka length or longer? Dos Passos, Tolstoy? Or longer? Robert Musil? Proust? I'm not throwing you with these names, am I?

JESS: You seem very obsessed with length.

LOGAN: I'm just trying to get a picture in my head, that's all.

RORY: It's a short novel.

The use of length is homoerotic. Despite Logan being classist Jess is still flirting with him.

LOGAN: (at Rory) Any good?

RORY: I haven't read it yet.

LOGAN: Yet? Well, at least you'll have one reader. That's something.

JESS: Yeah.

LOGAN: You know, I should just write down all my random thoughts and stuff that happens to me and conversations I have and just add a bunch of "he said, she said"-'s, and get it published. You got a copy on you?

JESS: No.

LOGAN: You should send me a copy.

JESS: Sure. And where do I send it? The blond dick at Yale?

Ok so again the use of dick is very homoerotic.

Jess is upset of course:

RORY: Jess, wait. (he stops and turns to look at her) Jess, I'm sorry.

JESS: We shouldn't have done this.

RORY: He's just in a bad way lately.

JESS: He's a jerk.

RORY: He was. In there, definitely. I'm so sorry.

JESS: I read that guy the second I saw him. I should have begged off.

RORY: Well, I didn't want you to.

So he read him, implies that Jess know Logan’s gay. He’s figured him out sexuality wise.

Theres more:

JESS: No, no. I mean with you. What's going on with you?

RORY: What do you mean?

JESS: You know what I mean. I know you better than anyone. This isn't you.

RORY: I don't know.

JESS: What are you doing? Living at your grandparents' place, being in the DAR, no Yale...why did you drop out of Yale?!

RORY: It's complicated.

JESS: It's not! It's not complicated.

RORY: You don't know.

JESS: This isn't you. This, you going out with this jerk, with the Porsche. We made fun of guys like this.

RORY: You caught him on a bad night.

JESS: This isn't about him. Okay, screw him. What's going on with you? This isn't you, Rory. You know it isn't. What's going on?

RORY: I don't know. I don't know.

So Jess being her mirror is acknowledged when he says he's knows her better than anyone.

Jess leaves and Rory and Logan fight:

LOGAN: Look, I'm sorry I came back early. I really messed things up here.

RORY: Jess wrote a book. He wrote a book, and you mocked him.

LOGAN: I did not mock him.

RORY: He's doing something.

LOGAN: Good. Fine. He's doing something. Everybody in the world's doing something. More power to him.

RORY: I'm not. I mean, what am I doing? I'm living with my grandparents.

LOGAN: That's temporary. Have a drink.

RORY: Temporary can turn into forever.

LOGAN: You're not living with the Gilmore’s forever.

RORY: I'm palling with my grandmother and being waited on by a maid. I come home, and my shoes are magically shined. My clothes are magically clean, ironed, and laid out. My bed is magically turned down. I'm in the DAR? I'm going to meetings and teas and cocktail parties?

Rory is having realization about her life because of what jess said to her. The fights not over yet:

LOGAN: Again, temporary. Have a drink.

RORY: And wasting my time partying and drinking, just hanging out doing nothing.

LOGAN: Whoa, whoa, whoa. (he gets up) Don't pull me into this.

RORY: I didn't say anything about you.

LOGAN: Yes, you did. Don't make me feel guilty for your drinking and partying. That's your choice. I'm not forcing you. When I ask you out, you can say no

RORY: It's all we do.

LOGAN: It's not all we do.

RORY: It's all you do.

LOGAN: Well, it's my prerogative, you know. You're damn straight. I'm gonna party. I'm gonna do it while I have the chance because come June, my life is over.

RORY: Oh, yes, your horrible life. Let's hear about it.

LOGAN: Got a week?

RORY: You have every door open to you. You have opportunities that anyone would kill for, including me.

LOGAN: No one's stopping you from making whatever you want happen. Go into journalism. Go into politics. Be a doctor. Be a clown. Do whatever you want.

RORY: It's not as easy when it's not handed to you.

LOGAN: Really? It's all so easy for me? (getting upset) I don't want that life. It's forced on me. You talk about all these doors being open? All I see is one door, and I'm being pushed through it. I have no choice. You try living without options.

Logan is stuck within a heterosexual playboy idea of himself that isn’t him. And so he parties to cope.

RORY: How hard are you fighting it?

LOGAN: I didn't tell you to quit Yale. You did that. I gave you one month, you went beyond that month, and it had nothing to do with me. It was all you. Now, you want to change? Change it, but don't blame me. Don't you dare blame me. You know what? Why don't you go off with John, Jack, whatever his name is?

He's not claiming responsibility because he's an asshole, but also he doesn't know how to be a boyfriend because he's gay. He's uncomfortable with Rory relying on him emotionally because he's viewing it as romantic and the gay guy in him doesn't like that. Rory's comment about him fighting is the text is noting his struggle with compulsory heterosexuality. Rory leaves and as we know she does break up with him and jess comments to her bring her back to herself.

my other links

https://jessandroryaregayfightme.tumblr.com/post/635171090892783616/doyle-paris-and-logan-and-the-milk-metaphor

https://jessandroryaregayfightme.tumblr.com/post/634824232687255552/yale-gay-subtext-in-gilmore-girls

https://jessandroryaregayfightme.tumblr.com/post/633010606083112960/logan-huntzberger-isnt-just-a-lazy-straight-man

https://jessandroryaregayfightme.tumblr.com/post/632166174651727872/so-its-time-for-another-homosexual-gilmore-girls

https://lupineluke.tumblr.com/post/634255134572036096/wait-but-youre-forgetting-the-most-important-part

#jess mariano #rory gilmore #logan huntzberger #Gilmore girls #Gilmore girls meta #gilmore girls

5 notes · View notes

littlebird-99 · 5 years

Text

I don't do, I love you

Dean X Reader

Warnings: angst, language, hurt reader, pissed Sammy

Word count: 1,317

Summary: Y/n has been with Dean for three years, she knows he's not big in saying I love you, but she never expected him to do what he does.

Y/N knew Dean didn't do I love you, he did his own thing.

But the one thing she'd never thought she'd hear.

Like telling Sam he was proud of them when Metatron had killed him. She knew she'd never get an I love you, and she was fine with it.

“We're Done.. get out” he had told her, she couldn't believe it, she didn't wanna believe it, but all she could do at that moment was nod, and walk away.

And she left, left them all behind and started a new life, one without the Winchesters, Jack and Castiel.

5 years later

Locking herself in her room that night she decided to leave, leave Dean behind, leave Sam, Jack and Cas, she didn't want too, hell, she really didn't fucking want to but, she was going to, she couldn't be near Dean.

Y/n was on a hunt, even though she said she'd never hunt again. It's been 5 years since she left. She left Sam a note, explaining to him what had happened, and why she wasn't gonna be found in her room the next morning.

Salt Lake City, Utah, was where she was hunting.

Five kids have gone missing, between the ages of 7 and 12, at first she had thought it was a changeling, but there are no signs as it is one, so she was currently at the library doing research, trying to find any lead as to what it could be.

“Dammit Sammy, I don't really wanna join you in your nerd...” the voice she's been trying to forget for years, stops talking as their eyes meet.

She quickly packs her bag, shaking and muttering under her breath, dropping stuff, she groans until a large hand grabs her shoulder.

“Y/n…” She turns, looking up at the tall hunter.

“Hi, Sam… Dean” she says growls his name, she continues packing her bag, then walks out, Dean just watching her leave.

“You're a fucking idiot,” Sam tells his brother, watching him as he watches her, “you left her, all because you couldn't say those three words,” he says.

Dean ignores his brother, watching Y/n walk away for the second time, “shut up Sam” he says, before storms away, the thing Sam doesn't know, is Dean wanted to say it, he wanted to tell her how he felt, but he couldn't bring himself to it, he couldn't tell her, so he did the one thing he knew he could, push her away.

Y/n mutters, getting to her car, “dick.. asshole, motherfucker” she kicks her tire, shaking her head she leans her head back, blinking the tears away.

Dean watches from the distance, chewing his lip, they had been together for 3 years when he told her to leave, maybe it's for the best.

That night, Y/n is sitting at a bar, smiling gently at the bartender, whom she'd become friends with since being here for a while.

“Listen to me sweetie,” the old woman says, “life's tough, and I know that a man is why you're drinking” she adds.

“But, from what I've seen in your eyes from the moment you walked in here, tells me you still love him, you want to turn away and hide from him, but it's not really what you want.” She says.

“I-I…” she couldn't say anything, she just let her talk.

“I know, I may just be some old bartender, but listen to me sweetie,” she says, “I know love when I see it,” she says, “and judging by mister in the corner, he feels the same”

She looks around, her eyes finding those emerald green ones she learned to hate, or tried.

She shakes her head, “no way.. he told me we were done... he doesn't love me” she states, although her voice falters as she thinks about everything.

The bartender chuckles and nods gently, sliding her a drink again, before she walks away, helping other guests, her eyes wander back towards Dean, the buzz of the alcohol hitting her as she eyes him.

She stands up, walking over to him as she works up the courage.

Dean watches her walk up, hope filling his eyes until his face is feeling a sting.

“I… I deserve that,” he says looking up at her, she shakes her head, glaring at him.

She sits down, chewing at her lip and playing with her fingers,

“Y/n/n listen I..” she cuts him off.

“Don't... I knew from the beginning you wouldn't wanna be with me Dean, but I.. I still made the decision to be with you” she whimpers

He frowns, going to say something else, but she stands up, “you know what.. fuck you Dean, all because you couldn't say I love you, you dumped me! And I... I just started to forget everything, forget you” she says,

“I love you Dean.. well, loved you! You.. you broke me you asshole” she says before she splashes her drink in his face and storming out.

He quickly stands up and follows her.

“Don't follow me Dean” she growls.

He shakes his head, looking at her, he can feel the tears filling his eyes as he chews his lip as he watches her.

She shakes her head, “don't.. don't tell me you actually care Dean! Because if you did, you wouldn't have broken my heart that night! You would have been honest with me, instead of breaking my heart, you knew how I felt Dean! And you know how I get.. I've b-been hurt before and you.. you knew that'’ she whimpers

“You don't understand Y/n! I don't do I love you, okay? I never have and I never will, but God woman! You know I care about you okay? You.. you mean everything to me,” he starts, she turns around, facing him.

He nods, “I-I know.. and I'm sorry, believe me, Y/n, believe me” he whispers, not trusting his voice, she shakes her head before turning again.

“we're done Dean,” she whispered, not looking back at him as she climbs into her car, she pulls away and he can't help as he falls to the ground.

Dean walks back into the bar, shaking his head, once again, losing the woman he loved. He sits at the bar, ordering shot after shot.

Sam found Dean, drunk out of his mind as he pulls his brother from the bar, “come on, let's get you to a shower, and a bed. Let you sleep this off” he states.

Next Morning

Dean groans as he lays in bed, “son of a bitch”

Sam chuckles, “you know what would go really good?” He asks, “a greasy pork sandwich with cigarette ash” he grins, making Dean stand up and run to the bathroom.

Sam laughs louder, throwing his head back as he drinks his water, “this is why you shouldn't have followed her” he states.

“Sam… just shut up” he states, he stands up, cleaning his face, and brushing his teeth.

“I followed her because… because I miss.. I miss her” he says, looking at his hands, he shakes his head.

“I.. I can't keep not being near her, Sam! I can't…” Sam chuckles making Dean glare back at him, “what's so funny?”

“You pushed her away Dean, you broke up with her, and now you're admitting you love her, you miss her, you're pathetic” he says, shaking his head. “Dean, you realize it's been 5 years since she left us, 5 years before you made her leave us” he says.

Dean just looks at him, before he looks down, “i know Sam. I know I did, and I'll get her back.”

Feedback is important! Please lemme know what you think!

#dean winchester x reader #supernatural #dean winchester #dean x y/n #sisters masterlist #supernatural imagines #supernatural x reader #sister-winchester99 #dean winchester imagine #sisters writings

169 notes · View notes