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inkandpen22 · 3 years

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The Princess and The Pogue (pt. 5)

Pairing: JJ x Female!Reader / Topper x Female!Reader

Word Count: 4.7k

Warnings: swearing, violence, mild smut

Part Summary: You and Topper make amends. You two attend the end of the summer bonfire at the Boneyard. When JJ sees you guys together, things take a turn for the worst.

Masterlist

Somehow, after hours of crying, you finally fell asleep on your bed. You're not quite sure when it happened. Your covers tucked nicely under you, wet from your tears. When you first got home, you immediately snuck up to your room, far from your parents. You ripped off your Labor Day dress, having already hated it, but you also took your aggression out on it. You changed in one of Topper's T-shirts that you stole sometime last summer... when you were hooking up. You had never been so close. Morning, noon, and night you were together. You were practically dating but without the titles. Actually, it was far deeper than that. You spent almost every hour together, you co-existing. You were acting married even though you were only teenagers. You guys just loved each other that much. If someone had told you then that a year from now you two wouldn't be talking, you would've thought they were crazy.

“Y/N!" You hear Topper in your dreams. "Y/N!" He repeats, then you process it's real.

"What the-" You rise from your laid position and spot the boy climbing in from your window in the dark. "Topper?"

"Hey! Sorry to scare you," he apologizes as he rises to his feet from a crawling position on your floor.

"Did you climb through the window?" You question, this wouldn't be the first time, but it nevertheless is mind-boggling to you how he can climb up the side of your house.

"Yeah, can you tell your mom to not have the gardeners cut the vines so short?" He complains with a chuckle, brushing down his Patagonia shirt.

"What are you doing here?" You yawn. Considering what he said to you just hours before, you can't help but wonder why the fuck he's here.

"I... I need to apologize," he stammers, taking a seat on the edge of your bed just by your legs. "Y/N, I'm so sorry! I was such a jerk to you earlier. I shouldn't have-"

Before he can even finish, you leap at him, pulling him into a pleading hug. "Jesus, I'm so happy you're here," you whisper against his shoulder.

Topper instantly wraps his arms around you, engulfing you. He releases a deep breath, not having realized until this moment that he couldn't breathe the entire time you weren't talking. "I've missed you!" He pulls back and brushes his hand across your cheek, bringing your hair back. "I missed you the moment you left!" He wears a smile of relief as his eyes glisten with tears threatening to fall.

"Never let me go again," you mutter, almost as a beg.

"I could never. I didn't," Topper explains in a rushed whisper, gripping your waist. "As soon as you left I was a mess, ask the boys! They had to talk me off a cliff. I came by earlier but your parents said you were still at Kiara's... which I'm guessing you were with JJ and the other Pogues..." His face falters and he avoids your gaze at the mention of JJ.

You bring your hand up and tuck your fingers under his chin, guiding him to look at you. His eyes meet you with defeat and it nearly breaks your heart. "JJ drove me back to John B's, but I had Sarah drive me home almost as soon as we got there."

"So you and JJ..." He can't bring himself to ask.

"We..." Your brows scrunch together as you realize you never really discussed it. "You know what, I didn't even know." Enough about JJ, you're just happy that Topper is here! You felt so empty all day, in a constant state of panic. Now, you can exist again. "I'm just relieved you're here, Top. I've felt sick to my stomach all day," you release a breathless laugh of relief.

"No, yeah you're right, no one else matters," he shakes his head, reaching for your hand on his cheek and taking it in his hands. "As long as we're good then everything else will be okay." He lifts your hand to his lips and gives them a needy kiss.

"Stay with me?" You ask softly as he does.

You see him swallow hard, pausing with your hand his lips. His eyes flicker up to yours with a mixture of surprise and admiration. "I was hoping you'd ask." A faint grin appearing on the edge of his lips.

You and Topper get ready for bed as you used to every night when he snuck into your room a lot more. You've shared a bed since breaking off your... arrangement. There was the ski trip and Bermuda, but on random nights when he couldn't sleep or missed you, Topper would find himself in your bed. You pull back your blankets, knowing to get on the side closest to the window, away from the door. Topper didn't need to think twice to move to the opposite side because ever in the case of an emergency, he's the closest to the door. He's always thinking of how to keep you safe and satisfied. As you climb in, Topper begins to remove his t-shirt and shorts. You can't help but watch as his clothes become a pile on his side. It's months since you two have done anything, but that doesn't mean you haven't thought about it. There have been opportunities, but you always try to be responsible and remember why you stopped. Topper doesn't notice your staring and wondering what it would feel like to run your fingers down his chest. He climbs in next to you and immediately guides you into his side. Instantly, you feel secure and wanted, which is all anyone ever needs. He brushes his fingertips up and down your spine gently while you rest your cheek against his bare chest. It's not a new feeling to you, but it certainly never gets old.

"There's a bonfire tomorrow at the Boneyard, wanna go together?" The boy asks, glancing down at you.

"As long as Rafe doesn't go wild as he did," you snicker, but you mean what you say.

"Don't worry about him, we had a nice long chat once he sobered up this afternoon," he insinuates and you wish you would've seen Topper go off on him. Then, you comprehend that it might've only happened because Topper was mad at you and Rafe was getting the side effects.

"He doesn't deserve you, Top." You mutter, lifting your head off his chest to place a quick kiss on his chest.

"That's how I feel about myself with you," he confesses as he peers down at you. "You've always been there for me. When Sarah cheated, you were right there and pulled me through it. The way I spoke to you this morning. I-"

"No, no, don't say that," you shake your hand repeatedly as you cup his cheek as you did before. He leans into your touch and you find yourself wishing to be closer to him, as though that's even possible. "I love you, Top. You're my best friend. I'll always be there for you. You've helped me in more ways than you could ever realize."

"I love you too, Y/N," he smiles, leaning down and placing a kiss on your forehead. "So much..." he whispers against your skin.

His eyes flicker down to your neck and you remember last night in the kitchen. You brush your hand across Topper's cheek, pulling his focus back to you. His eyes and features falter at the evidence of JJ on you.

"I'm here with you! Okay? It's you and me," you try to emphasize.

He nods slowly, still feeling an ache in his chest, but relieved to have you in his arms. You're it for Topper. He would do anything for you, drop anyone for you, nothing is too much. You alone are what drives him and are the reason he wakes up in the morning. He would never admit it aloud out of guilt, but when he was with Sarah, he always compared her to you. He doesn't fully know why he dated her, maybe because he felt you slipping away when you realized that you no longer wanted to hook up. He couldn't lose you so he tried to replace you, but he quickly realized that was impossible. No one could be you.

_____________________________________

Topper woke up before you and let you sleep, pondering having you in his arms. Your legs entangled in his, your arm across his chest along with your cheek. In the light, he finally notices you wearing his shirt. A faint smile forms on his lips at the sight. He has you here with him, not with JJ or Rafe or anyone else who's pining after you. You're his.

You've spent the entire day together on Topper's boat. It couldn't have been more perfect. The hours slipped by without either of you two noticing. Topper has been energized and enthusiastic about everything, all because he has you back. Around ten, you and Topper arrive at the Boneyard for the final bonfire of the summer. You wear distressed white short shorts over a black tank bodysuit with a matching black Chanel belt. All finished with the pearl earrings Topper gave you for Christmas last year.

Topper keeps you close, his arm around your waist as you walk toward the crowd of teenagers. "I'm so lucky."

You peer up at the boy with a giggle. "Why?"

"I have the most beautiful girl in the OBX at my side," he flirts.

You turn your attention ahead, struggling to hide your blushing. "You sound like Rafe."

Topper steps around to walk backward in front of you. He locks his fingers through the loops of your shorts and pulls you into his chest. "At least he and I agree on something." He grins, resting his hands on your hips.

You playfully roll your eyes but find it hard to hide your amusement. "You're such a cheese ball."

"I'm gonna go get us some drinks," he announces before planting a quick peck to your temple.

You nod, stepping back toward the shore as Topper holds onto your hands until the last minute. "Okay, I'll find us a spot by the water."

"Be right there," he winks, offering you a mischievous smirk.

For a second, you watch Topper jog off to the stack of coolers by the cement wall. Is it possible to be too dependent on someone? You know that if you and Topper stopped talking completely that you wouldn't physically die, but emotionally it would destroy you. You smile, knowing that you two will grow closer because of your fight. It taught you a valuable lesson. It took losing Topper for you to fully comprehend how much you need him. Turning on your heels, you head toward a log facing the shore. It's far enough from the chaos to give you and Topper some privacy, but close enough to still be included in the festivities. You two are both social butterflies, but today has been about you two and you want to keep it that way. You sit down on the log, content watching the small waves crashing against the sand just a few feet away. The light of the moon shimmers on the water, making it looks like lines of crystal.

"Want a drink, Princess?" A familiar voice asks over your shoulder

You glance up to see a

"Wow, you look extra Kooky tonight," he remarks under his breath as he brings his cup to his mouth.

You glare at him. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Let's play a game!" He blurts out. "How many items that Y/N is wearing are designer?"

You roll your eyes, realizing how drunk he is because JJ isn't like this. "How much have you had to drink?"

"Just the right amount!" He answers swiftly before moving on. "My guess is all of them, but I can't be too sure. You'll have to take off your clothes so I can check what's underneath."

"You wanna sit for a second? Maybe cool down a bit?" You offer, gesturing to the space beside you.

His expression shifts from carefree to hurt. "Why do you care?"

"JJ..." You sigh, peering up at the boy with immense guilt.

"What?!" He tosses his arms up at his sides, losing some of his drink in the process. "You come here with Prince Charming, acting all coupley!"

"It's not like that-" You try to explain calmly.

"Not according to Sarah!" He counters in a shout. You nervously check over at the crowd, making sure no one heard him burst. "You two planning your next trip to Bermuda?!"

"What!" You whip your head back around toward JJ. "What did Sarah tell you?!" You fly up to your feet, stepping toward him defensively.

"Did you sleep with him?!" JJ yells again and you're sure others heard him this time.

"Excuse me?" You gasp at his audacity.

"After you left John B's, did you go and find him?!" He elaborates with a breathless laugh. He steps closer to you, getting in your face. He doesn't care if others listen or if he's making you uncomfortable. "After you kissed me and slept in my bed, did you go and sleep with Topper?!"

Abruptly, you feel a hand pressed to your back and see JJ being shoved backyard.

"Hey! Back off man!" Topper growls, suddenly at your side.

JJ catches himself from falling after a second of stumbling. "Oh and here he is now!" He laughs, tossing his cup to the side. "Your knight in shining armor!"

"I think you should go, man!" Topper warns between his teeth.

Topper's arm slips around you and grips your waist protectively. You watch JJ as he glares at Topper's arm around you.

"Don't "man" me, alright! Touch me again and you'll lose a hand!" JJ threatens.

"JJ!" John B calls for his friend as he runs toward you from down the beach. Kiara, Pope, and Sarah are close behind him. When JJ doesn't react. John B shouts again. JJ! Come on, let's go back over to the fire."

"No! Not until she answers me!" JJ screams, yanking his arm free.

Pope, Kiara, and Sarah watch in distress as JJ and Topper go back and forth. None of you are sure what to do.

"Answer what!" Topper barks, stepping toward JJ defensively. You grab his arm, keeping him back.

"Oh, I'm sorry! Is your name Y/N?" JJ laughs mockingly. "That Kook Academy doesn't do you guys any favors for your intelligence does it?"

Pope steps around to block off his friend. "Just cool down, buddy!"

"I knew you were Kook, Y/N, but I would've never marked you as slut," JJ shouts at you over Pope's shoulder.

Topper breaks free of your hold, charging at JJ. John B grabs Pope and yanks him out of Topper's way. Now block-less, JJ runs at Topper. His face is red with aggravation. You could've never imagined seeing JJ look so enraged. The person he was with you the other night was entirely different. He was kind, gentle, understanding. You don't recognize him. Topper shoves JJ hard enough to make the boy fall back onto the sand.

Topper tackles JJ into the ankle-deep water, immediately punching him in the jaw. The two grunt, struggling to get the upper hand. John B attempts to pull Topper off.

"Topper!" You yell desperately.

"JJ!" Kiara yells from the sidelines.

"Enough!" John B barks at the pair as Pope runs to assist.

The crowd by the bonfire starts to figure out what's going on a few yards away and rush over to watch. Pogues and Kooks each cheer for their fighter. Kelce and Rafe show up, pushing through the crowd to help out their friend.

"Topper! Get off of him!" You plead as your best friend continues to press JJ's head under the water.

JJ manages to punch Topper in the cheek, making the boy lose his balance for a second. Despite hating each other, Kelce and Rafe try to help out John B and Pope.

"Guys! Quit!" Kelce commands, pulling at Topper.

"Top, you'll kill him!" Sarah screams from beside Kiara.

You want to go stand with them, but at this moment you're not sure if they want anything to do with you. Sarah and Kiara are Pogues. You're not just Y/N right now, their friend. You're a Kook during this Kook vs. Pogue fight.

The boys manage to yank Topper off of JJ. The blonde Pogue flies up from beneath the surface, gasping for air. Topper falls back onto the sand in a seated position. Topper continues to fist JJ's collar and as he's shoved off, ripping JJ's shirt down the front. You notice the large purple and blue bruise on JJ's chest and freshly heeling cut down his neck to his collar bone. JJ frantically reaches behind himself, searching for something. Then, things take a turn for the worst when he whips out a gun. The crowd that watched the fight with amusement now scatters in a panic.

"Woah! Woah! Woah!" Topper's eyes grow wide as he starts to scoot back, holding up a hand pleadingly.

Kelce and Rafe bolt away, John B and Pope rush out words, trying to calm JJ down.

"JJ!" John B yells at his friend. "What the hell?!"

"Oh my god!" Sarah's hands fly up to her mouth.

"That's right! Bet you didn't think I had that did ya?" JJ grins wickedly at Topper.

"Topper!" Kelce attempts to collect his friend but halts when JJ points the gun at him.

"Everyone back off!" JJ orders, rising to his feet, returning the gun's point toward Topper.

Without a second thought, you sprint across the sand. You slide in front of Topper, the waves splashing against you.

"Y/N! No!" Topper screams as soon as you land in JJ's path.

"Y/N!" Sarah and Kiara shout your name in unison.

JJ hesitates when his eyes land on you. You see him lower the gun a little and Kelce takes the opportunity to pull Topper from the scene.

"JJ please..." you beg of him.

Your heart is racing, but you're certain JJ won't hurt you. Despite his evident pain and anger toward you, he won't do it. You remember the boy from the other night, the one who spoke to you with such admiration. That boy wouldn't harm you. You know he's in there beneath this tough facade.

"Y/N! Come on!" Rafe wraps his fingers around your arm and drags you away.

While he's distracted by you, John B swiftly steals the gun from JJ's hand and begins ushers him away to their circle of friends. The Pogues swarm JJ, all talking over each other.

Rafe frantically cups your face, checking on you. "Y/N! Y/N, are you okay?"

"I'm fine..." You mutter, glancing over your shoulder, watching John B talk to JJ down the beach.

"No cuts? Scrapes?" Rafe panics.

"No..." You shake your head absent-mindedly as you’re too distracted by observing JJ.

"Are you okay?" Kiara checks on JJ worriedly as you watch from a distant.

"Yeah, yeah I'm fine!" JJ rushes out, still agitated. "Fuck this man!" He swears, then his eyes land on yours with surprise. He hand’t expected you to be listening or even care.

You two stare each other from across the beach. Guilt consumes his features and sympathy breaks you apart as your vision lands on the wounds covering JJ’s torso. Rafe brings you over to Kelce who has Topper catching his breath against a tree.

"Dude's fucking nuts, man!" Kelce curses, all fidgety beside you.

As soon Topper sees you coming, he pushes himself off the tree and rushes to you. His arms engulf you as he presses you to his chest.

He squats down to be at your level, cupping your face in his hands. “You’re so stupid, Y/N! You just jumped in front of a gun! Why would you do that?!”

“Because it was pointed at you!” You justify desperately.

Topper's eyes soften. “You’d risk your life for me?! Are you crazy?!” A soft, breathless, laugh escapes him.

“Of course I would you idiot!” You remark with frustration. How could he possibly think you wouldn't? You'd do anything for the boy.

“God, I love you so much," he mutters, placing a hand on either side of your head and planting a kiss on your forehead.

“Are you sure you’re not hurt anywhere?” You check his body in a panic.

“Yes, yes I’m okay!” He assures you. “Let’s get out of here before things get crazy again."

Your eyes grow wide. “Agreed!”

He looks over at you and Topper doting on each other. It makes him even more pissed off. "Great! Go baby him! Tend to your Kook Prince, you Princess!" He yells across the beach.

John B covers his friend's mouth. "Shut up, JJ!"

"Jesus JJ!" Pope huffs under his breath.

You and Topper snap your heads in JJ's direction. As a result, Topper pulls you into his side securely.

“We'll text you guys later!” Kelce calls out to you both as he and Rafe start backing toward their cars.

“Stay close to me,” Topper slips his into yours, giving it a tight squeeze. “I’m never letting that psycho Pogue anywhere near you again!”

When you arrive at Topper's car, he opens your door for you. He keeps a sharp eye on the Pogues that remain on the beach. When John B or any of them glance our way, he glares daggers in their direction. Once you climb in, Topper reaches in and begins to buckle your seat belt as though you were a toddler in a car seat.

“Topper I think I can put on my own seat belt,” you

“I know, Sweetheart. I’m just..." he stops his action, kneeling beside you. "I guess I’m still a little scared. I was so afraid when that gun was pointed at you, I... I couldn’t breathe. I can never lose you, Y/N,” he rushes out, becoming emotional.

Your emotions become bottled up as a lump in your throat. You rub your fingers through Topper's hair and plant a kiss on his forehead. His hands glide around your waist to your back, hugging you needly. His head rests against your chest as you cradle it.

Abruptly, he breaks from you as a thought pops into his mind. “Promises me that if there’s any dangerous situation like that again, you run!" He instructs sternly. "You don’t do anything reckless for my sake!”

You shake your head frantically, already rejecting his words. “You would’ve done the same thing for me! You basically did!” You justify.

“I’m seriously Y/N!" Topper stands his ground. Eagerly, he takes removes your hands from his hair and squeezes them in his own. "I could never live with myself if something happened to you! Never again!”

You want to argue with him on it, claim that if he's going to be protective of you that he must understand that you'll be the same. Yet, nothing escapes you. Instead, you simply nod, not wanting to fight at this moment.

He nods, satisfied by your compliance. “I love you, you know that right?”

You nod. “I love you too, Topper."

_________________________________________

JJ fell into a dark abyss of self-deprecation and destruction after the bonfire. The Pogues all drove back to John B's, but as soon as they got there JJ disappeared as he did the day before. All they can do is wonder where he goes. If they knew that he was at the bar searching for his dad half drunk, they would be stopping a second fight for the day.

JJ can't help but feel responsible for it all. One minute he has you. You're right there. The next, you're gone, in the arms of Topper of all people. He wants to know if anything from the other night was real for you. Was he just a game to you? You're the Princess of the OBX, you can have anything you want, including JJ if you asked. Is that what happened? You wanted him for a night and then got bored and went back to your fellow Kook. He wishes he hadn't let you down. He wishes you were here. He wishes that he could hold you again and feel you in his arms. Waking up next to you was the best moment in his life and he fears he'll never feel that sort of peace again.

______________________________________________________

You Topper spend the night at his house, too afraid to be apart. Late into the night, Topper struggles to fall asleep as he holds you. Your back is pressed to his chest as his hands rest against you underneath his shirt you're wearing. Every time he tries to close his eyes, he envisions what could've happened tonight. You could've been shot. Topper could never live with himself if anything happened to you. Moving slowly to not wake you, he rolls onto his back and reaches toward the nightstand for his phone. He begins to scroll through social media and text messages, responding in the group chat between you, Kelce, Rafe, and himself. You've all agreed to go to lunch tomorrow at the Club with some other Kooks from the bonfire.

You stir next to Topper, making the boy pause for a second. When you roll over still asleep and curl into him, a wave of relief rushes over Topper.

“Go back to sleep,” you yawn.

Topper jumps at the sudden sound of your voice. “Shit... sorry Beautiful, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“I’ve been awake. I could feel you overthinking," you whisper, scooting closer into his side.

“You could feel me thinking?” He repeats with a hint of confusion.

You hum, as it makes perfect sense to you. You hear the sound of Topper pushing his phone back onto the side table. He rests his now free hand over your arm that lays across him. After a couple of minutes, you can still feel the tension radiating from him.

“I’m okay, Topper,” you tell him to ease his nerves.

“I know, I can’t just help but review the course of events in my head. What if he didn’t hesitate? What if his hand slipped? What if-“

“Enough!” You fly up to prop yourself up on your elbow. You stare down at the worried boy with sympathy. "You’re okay! I’m okay! What’s done is done and all we can do is be safe from now on. We’re safe!” You reach up and comb your fingers through the side of his hair. “Okay? It’s just you and me here.”

Impulsively, Topper extends his neck and slams his lips to yours. You sit stunned as the kiss rides out its course. You and Topper go months without anything intimate and within two days, he's kissed you twice, breaking every ruled you two have made. When you don't react, Topper breaks from you with a startled expression, as if he wasn't comprehending his actions.

“Y/N, I'm sorry! I-“

Before Topper can finish his sentence, you press your lips to his hungrily. You're not sure why, but you need him. Topper is your kryptonite, the bittersweet reality in your life. Forgetting his regret, Topper immediately sits up, resting against his headboard. You take the opportunity to straddle his torso and he keeps you steady with his hands on your hips. It's been ages since you've made out, but it's like riding a bike for you two. You know what each other likes and what gets the other going.

"I've missed you so much," Topper whispers against your jawline as he moves down to leave marks on your neck. He aggressively attacks your sensitive skin where evidence of JJ remains. Deep down in the back of your mind, you know Topper is parking his territory for JJ to see later. Your skin has become a battleground for the two. "I've missed this."

"Me too," you pant, silently wondering if you truly mean it in the same sense as him.

Though you chose to kiss Topper back and want to, you can’t understand why JJ’s face enters your mind the moment you do. As you deepen the kiss with Topper, you chase the sensation he’s giving you. You're addicted to the way he makes you feel, it's familiar and reminds you of a time when you were carefree. Yet, your thoughts remain fixated on JJ. You want Topper, but all you can think about is JJ.

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Masterlist

Tags: @starkeythinker @bethii1 @thegunnerkelly@cc13723things @hockeybabe87 @jolomez

#topper obx #topper outer banks #topper imagine #topper #john b routledge #jj maybank fluff #jj maybank fic #jj mayback x reader #jj maybank imagines #jj #kiara #sarah cameron #pope #outer banks

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joonie-beanie · 4 years

Text

The Demon Brothers + comforting a self-conscious MC/Reader

So a while ago an anon sent me the below ask

And I kind of adored the idea, considering I am also insecure, and chubby, and in need of some demon bro comfort. Hence, here we are.

Rather than bullet point, I ended up writing short stories for each brother. Hopefully you still enjoy 💕

Lucifer:

The eldest brother is not unaware of the way your eyes stray when the two of you are in public together—your gaze raking over the other inhabitants of the Devildom as you traverse the busy streets.

At first, he assumes the array of creatures—some far less human-like than he and his brothers—are interesting to you. Then, he notices the way you begin hugging yourself with your arms. As if trying to hide yourself away from any prying eyes.

It is indeed out of place for a human to be seen in the Devildom, and you do get some stares, but...he has a suspicion that the sudden shyness you exhibit stems from feelings that reach beyond what strangers may think of you.

He doesn’t like seeing you in such a state.

“Y/N,” he addresses you after tugging you into a small, scarcely populated side alley. One of his gloved fingers curls beneath your chin, and he guides your hung head to look at him. “I can tell you’re upset. Explain to me why.”

You glance away from him, cheeks heating up, and your arms hugging your sides a bit tighter.

“I just...you, and your brothers are all so beautiful,” you start by saying, causing him to blink in surprise. “And...whenever we’re out like this, and I see all of the other demons living here, I can’t help but feel like I pale in comparison...”

Lucifer’s features soften as he stares at you. You’re worried about such a silly thing?

“Y/N.” He steps forward, his thumb moving to hold your chin. He tilts your head up, guiding you into a kiss. It’s soft, and loving, and immediately your fingers are twitching against your sides—itching to reach out and hold him.

“You are perfect as you are, and I have never thought otherwise.”

He kisses you again, his free arm moving to curl around your waist and tug you closer. You feel your heart aching in your chest.

“Lucifer—”

“You need not compare yourself to others, because there is no one else like you—and you are radiant in every sense of the word. I give you my word as the Avatar of Pride that what I speak is the absolute truth.”

His voice is quiet, and tender, and full of adoration. You feel like crying.

“I love you,” you whisper the words against him, voice a little broken, and Lucifer smiles before kissing you again. He will try his best from now on to help you feel a little more comfortable in your own skin.

Mammon:

The second brother invites you to Majolish to watch one of his fashion shoots, and you agree despite knowing how self conscious it will make you, because you know it will make him happy.

So, you find yourself standing in the back of the studio, watching Mammon on the temporary set—which is composed of an oversized mattress, and colorful pillows. He’s wearing slacks, and a button up that’s not buttoned at all—revealing his toned body. Since it’s a group shoot, he’s surrounded by equally enticing male and female demons. And while the sight should get you going, considering they’re all so attractive, it just makes you feel...bad.

Biting your lip, a sick feeling rising in your chest, you end up stepping out into the hall. Mammon finds you there soon after, a look of relief on his face when he spots you with your back against the wall—arms hugged together.

“There ya are! I thought you had left!” He runs up to greet you, but his smile wavers. He can tell you’re upset—gaze straying away from him.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” He reaches out, hands hovering nervously. Had he done something? “I...if I did something wrong you can tell me...I didn’t mean to upset ya—”

“No, it’s not you,” you mumble, cutting him off. Now he’s even more confused. “I guess...I got upset seeing you and all the models. I know I don’t look anywhere near as attractive, and that thought started to gnaw at me, so—”

“What are ya talking about?” he interrupts you, head cocked to the side curiously. “I think you’re hot as hell.”

You feel your cheeks heat up, surprised at his words. “What?”

“I-I mean!” suddenly he’s turning red, hand lifting to sheepishly rub at his neck. “I’ve never thought that ya weren’t attractive, ya know? Ever since you came here my heart can’t help but flutter whenever I see ya…”

Your heart aches. “Mammon…”

“Listen! I just…,” his shy gaze turns back to you, and he reaches a hand out, cupping your cheek. “I think you’re one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen.”

He leans in, but hesitates for a moment, so you’re the one who ends up sealing the kiss.

“Don’t worry about that kinda crap, okay?” he whispers against you, his arms lowering to wrap around your waist—holding you tightly. “Or else The Great Mammon will have to start knocking some sense into that silly human brain of yours.”

Tears blot your eyelashes, but you can’t help but giggle.

Levi:

You love Levi dearly, but he has an Akuzon addiction that needs to be addressed.

Recently, Akuzon had apparently expanded their clothing options—stocking more cosplay-like pieces—and Levi had thrown them all into his cart without second thought. Now that they’ve arrived, he’s begging you to come over.

Except, he doesn’t tell you why he wants you to come to his room until you’re already there—watching as he unpacks the multiple bags worth of questionable clothing.

“Ooooo~! This one is especially cute!!” He holds up something pastel, and undeniably adorable. You don’t disagree—it is cute, but...as you stare at it, an uncomfortable feeling settles in your stomach.

Can you even pull off something like that? You’re sure Levi is hoping that you’ll look like one of the cute anime characters in his favorite shows, and you don’t want to disappoint him.

As much as you would love to try on the clothing and model for him, you don’t believe you’ll be able to do the outfits any justice.

“Y/N?” the demon calls your name curiously, noting how you’ve gone silent. You’re no longer paying attention to him, your head hung as you stare off to the side—a perplexed look on your face.

“W-What’s wrong?” Leviathan drops the clothing held in his grap, stepping towards you. He knows that he can get a little overly excited about this stuff, but you’re typically tolerant of it…

“I don’t know if I’m the right person to model for you,” you end up saying, voice quiet. An array of negative feelings are swirling in your head, making it hard for you to say what you want to without vomiting all your worries at him.

“I’m not...built the same as an anime character, or the cute 2-D people in your video games. The clothing won’t look the same on me, and I don’t want to ruin the images you probably have in your head.”

“Y/N—,” he cuts you off, his hand grabbing your own. He lifts your hand until your fingers are splayed against his chest. You can feel the rapid beat of his heart beneath your palm.

When you glance up, his face is flushed.

“I...this is how I get every time I’m around you,” he tells you honestly. “Whether you’re in your RAD outfit, or pajamas, or just a t-shirt and jeans...I...m-my heart always beats l-like this.”

He looks like he’s about to phase out of existence—embarrassed beyond belief with everything he’s currently confessing to you—so you instinctively reach your free hand up and cup his cheek. He leans into your touch, cheeks aflame.

“I think you’re so cute,” he mumbles, amber eyes staring right at you. “You don’t have to look like Ruri-chan, or anyone else. I...I like you. So, please don’t think those things about yourself...”

“Levi…” There’s adoration in his gaze, and you can’t help but kiss him.

Beneath your palm, you feel his heart skip a beat.

Satan:

The Avatar of Wrath has recently become accustomed to inviting you out on little coffee dates. It’s a chance for both you and him to escape his brothers, and have a space to yourselves where you’ll be able to talk freely.

The cafe the two of you frequent is dark, and cozy, and right up Satan’s alley. So far, all of your experiences there have been pleasant.

Today, however, the stunningly attractive barista is throwing herself at Satan as he orders your drinks, and a familiar uncomfortable feeling begins rising in your throat.

Just great.

Chin resting in your palm, you watch the two interact—Satan maintaining his pleasant composure, even when she presses her arms beneath her chest and asks if he wants any company. You see him shake his head, and you assume he mentions that he’s already here with someone, considering the barista’s gaze strays to you. She looks you up and down, an unkind amusement swimming in her eyes, before she turns back to Satan.

...wow.

You face yourself away, feeling bitter, and anxious as you wait for the fourth brother to return to your side. That assuming he does. You wouldn’t blame him for running off with the Barista—

“Y/N,” two hands reach out and cup your cheeks, guiding your head to the side. You manage to note that Satan is now crouched beside your chair—barista abandoned—before his lips connect with yours.

“I love you. You’re absolutely stunning.”

“Wha—,” you flush red as he pulls back, shocked at his actions. Satan usually isn’t so open about his affections in public. “You...how did you—?”

“I was watching the barista when she glanced past me. The rude, yet satisfied look on her face was telling enough,” he says, a bit of anger slipping into his tone. However, it’s quick to melt away when his gaze refocuses on your blushing cheeks.

“Just so you know, I think you’re beautiful. I’ve always thought so.” He presses back to his feet, the tips of his ears turning red. “So...don’t mind what others say, and be kind to yourself, okay?”

At a loss for words, you reach your arms out and hug him around the middle. He blinks in surprise, but a chuckle leaves his lips—his hand petting against your hair.

“Do I need to start telling you how much I adore you every day?”

“I might die,” you mumble into his shirt, and he feels his heart ache. He’ll be sure to start expressing his affections for you more often. He doesn’t want you feeling down about the way you look, because he has never given it a second thought.

In his eyes, you’ve always been perfect.

Asmo:

Asmo is unfortunately stellar at reading your body language. So on the days where your self-confidence and self-image aren’t best, he’s right there, trying to subtly raise your spirits.

Today, when he notices you picking at your food during breakfast, a frown on your face, he knows it’s going to be one of those days. And he doesn’t like seeing you upset.

So, he invites you to come to his room for a nice, relaxing spa day.

You agree, although it takes a little bit of convincing on his end.

Soon enough, you find yourself standing in front of Asmo’s outrageously large tub. He’d prepared a milk bath for you—the white, swirling liquid thick, and heavenly smelling. You’re a little nervous to disrobe and sink inside—especially considering your current mental state—but...you end up doing it anyway.

Once you’re shoulder deep into the tub, Asmo knocks on the door, making you jump.

“Are you up for getting a scalp massage?” he questions, peeking his head in. There’s a kind smile on his face. “I’d love to give you one.”

It takes you a moment to answer—your gaze lowering to look at yourself. It’d be impossible for him to see you beneath the milk, so that helps you feel a bit better…

“Okay,” you say, and Asmo is quick to skip inside. He rolls up his pants to his knees, his calves dipping into the bath on either side of your shoulders. A moment later, you feel his fingers rub through your hair, and you can’t help but sigh.

“Feel good?” he questions, and you hum in acknowledgement. Silence falls for a short while—Asmo simply focusing on easing the tension from your body—but he can’t let his thoughts go unheard.

“You know,” he starts by saying. “I don’t understand why you’re so hard on yourself. I think you’re positively stunning.”

“Asmo…”

“No, I really mean it!” he pouts, getting the feeling that you think he’s just saying that to try and make you feel better. “You’re cute, and scrumptious just the way you are! And I’ve always thought so—since the moment I laid my eyes on you when you were summoned by Lord Diavolo for the exchange program.��

“So just...take my word for it, please, and let me be the positive voice in your life when your silly brain is making you think otherwise.”

He leans down, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, and his hands move to gently hold your cheeks. After a moment, you reach up and place your hands on his own. Your chest aches at his words, conflicted, but more than anything, you feel grateful.

“Thank you, Asmo.”

“Anytime, darling. I’ll always be more than happy to shower you with the love, praise, and affection that you rightfully deserve.”

Beel:

Beel loves inviting you to the gym with him, because when he’s done working out, he’s starving, which means it’s a good excuse to go out and have a meal with you.

Most days, sitting on the sidelines at the gym, or hopping on the treadmill and getting a good walk in doesn’t really bother you. Especially because you get to watch Beel as he exercises.

Today, however, you’re feeling entirely too self conscious as you sit on the empty bench press beside the Avatar of Gluttony—watching the way his arms flex as he lifts the heavy weights.

You know that the gym is typically an accepting place—an area where people (or in this case, demons) of any shape and size can come to work out—but you just feel like you don’t belong. Not accompanying Beel, at the very least.

He basically looks like he was handcrafted by god himself (and very well may have been)—his face handsome, and body toned in all of the right places. And here you are, unable to compare to him.

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

His voice reaches your ears, and you look up to find him staring at you in concern. You can only guess that you’d had a pretty sour look on your face while you’d been lost in your thoughts.

“It’s...it’s nothing, Beel.” You force a smile, not wanting to burden him with your current emotions. He frowns, regarding you for a moment, before he lets it go.

“Okay, I’m gonna change, and then we’ll go eat.”

“Alright,” you respond, immediately pressing to your feet. You head for the door without saying anything, intending to wait for him outside per usual.

A few minutes later, Beel exits the gym to find you sitting on a bench nearby. Your leg is bouncing anxiously, gaze zoned on the concrete at your feet.

“What’s wrong?” he questions again, taking a seat beside you. His tone indicates that he won’t be accepting “nothing” for an answer this time.

You knot your hands together in your lap. “I just...do you ever get embarrassed? Bringing me to the gym with you?”

He blinks. “Embarrassed? Why would I?”

“I don’t know, because I’m...not...up to par with a lot of the demons in there? Or, because you look like that, and I look like this, and—”

“I’m lost,” he cuts you off, looking confused. “Are you saying I should be embarrassed because I’m bringing a cute human with me to the gym? Maybe it is a little weird, considering this is the Devildom, but—”

“No, not just because I’m human. I meant—”

This time, he silences you with a kiss. His large hands cup your cheeks, holding you tenderly.

“I know what you meant, Y/N, but I disagree,” he tells you, uncharacteristically serious as he sits back. Then, a bashful smile spreads on his face. “I actually think you’re really adorable. Anytime I look at you I think of my favorite food. I love you just how you are, and will never feel embarrassed having you at my side. So, you should remember that from now on, okay?”

He reaches over and slots your hands together, tugging you to your feet.

“Now, let’s go get some ice cream.”

Belphie:

Both you and Belphie are aware that one of Belphie’s favorite activities is napping with you. Particularly, with his hands wrapped around you, and his face pressed between your shoulder blades.

Recently, you’ve been passing on all of his invitations to share a nap.

And he’s seriously starting to go crazy.

Had he done something to upset you? You always seem normal whenever you’re talking with him and his brothers, but when he sends a text asking you to come over and nap, you’re either busy, or just don’t feel like it.

Today, he decides to try and bring the nap to you.

He waltzes into your room mid-afternoon—pillows and blankets tucked beneath his arms. Without waiting for a response, he makes his way to your bed and sets everything up, making a perfect little fort for the two of you to nap in.

Once it’s set up, he crawls his way inside and then rolls over, turning to face you.

You’re stood at the edge of the bed, arm awkwardly held in your grasp. You don’t move to join him. Belphie sighs.

“Did I do something wrong?” he finally asks, wanting to resolve the issue if he has. He can’t take this anymore.

“What? No, it’s not you,” you tell him, surprised to hear his question. The demon blinks at you, now even more confused. If he’s not the reason you’ve been avoiding napping with him, then what is?

He fixes you with a curious stare—letting you know that he won’t be leaving until you tell him the truth—and you sigh.

“I just...haven’t been feeling too good about myself lately,” you admit to him, eyes glancing off to the side. “And because of that, I started thinking about you holding me when we nap, and ended up getting self conscious, wondering if I felt weird in your arms, or if—”

Before you get the chance to continue, Belphegor is grabbing your wrist—tugging you down against the mattress. With your back facing him, he’s quick to scoot up behind you, his arms wrapping around your midsection like normal.

“I never have cared about looks, or any of that stuff,” he mumbles, giving you a squeeze. “You fit perfectly in my arms, and always will, so don’t overthink it.”

“Belphie…”

“I love you for you, okay? I think you’re cute, and all that jazz. Now don’t make me say it again…”

Sounding embarrassed, Belphegor presses a kiss to the back of your head. You place your arms atop his own, smiling softly.

“Thank you.”

And for the first time in weeks, you fall asleep in his arms.

#om!#obey me #swd obey me #obey me headcanons #obey me fic #obey me fluff #lucifer #mammon #leviathan #levi #satan #asmo #asmodeus #beel #beelzebub #belphie #belphegor

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secretobsessionstuff · 3 years

Note

heyy i just saw the list you reblogged and i have a request!

i'm going to put the quotes that i liked here below but you don't have to put all of them in the fanfic! i just put all thst bc it makes thinking about the plot easier bc you just have to imagine a plot with that kind of quotes yk? i'm so bat at explaining omg

but basically, you can do with the characters you want, i just wanted them to be male (yes i'm gay af) and have like a nasty head cold/flu (bc i wanted them to be a little bit nauseous too) with a REALLY high fever accompanied by dizziness and pls i just love sneezy, pukey and feverish characters, they're just so adorable!! but you do what makes you comfortable, okay???

i hope that was not TOO specific... i'm sorry if it was

anyways, here are the quotes:

1. "You don't have to say you're sorry. You're sick."

5. "Hey, are you alright? You look like you're about to fall over."

9. "Hey, look at me. What's wrong? I can tell you don't feel good."

13. "Why don't we own a thermometer? You're burning up.

"20. "Whoa, I got you. Here, sit down, sit down."

(it doesn't need to be on that order!! thank you advance!)

Anon, you're so sweet!! I hope you like the fic! There's actually no emeto in this because the fic just did whatever the heck it wanted lol. Don't worry, there's still adorable nauseous/flu-y fluff though.

I used all of the prompts except #13 because someone else requested a fic with that line as well. But of course I can't resist including fevers in everything I write so there's still that.

The prompts are from THIS lovely list, and I used:

1. "You don't have to say you're sorry. You're sick."

5. "Hey, are you alright? You look like you're about to fall over."

9. "Hey, look at me. What's wrong? I can tell you don't feel good."

20. "Whoa, I got you. Here, sit down, sit down."

------------------------

It was moving day and Shawn’s body did not want to move. Every inch of him ached as he and Mateo carried boxes from the car to the apartment. As luck would have it, the elevator was broken so they had to lug Mateo’s stuff up to the third floor. Perhaps some higher power thought that doubling Shawn’s misery would be a fun thing to watch.

The higher power was right.

Shawn was out of breath within fifteen minutes. He didn’t feel well to begin with. He woke up with the tell-tale signs that he was coming down with something. Scratchy throat, sore muscles, and just a hint of a headache. And to top it all off, that previously mentioned higher power decided to make his stomach hurt just for the hell of it.

After plastering a fake smile on his face, he headed back down the stairs for the seventeenth time. He and Mateo had gotten into this pattern of only passing each other on the stairs when one was going up and the other going down. Luckily, Mateo’s line of sight was partially obscured by the box he carried, so he didn’t see the way Shawn slumped against the wall with a harsh exhale.

“Hey, I was thinking,” Mateo said, stopping in the middle of the stairs like a madman. He didn’t look nearly as tired as Shawn, despite being the one with his arms full. “Maybe we can go out to eat tonight, you know, since all my shit is going to be in the way.”

“Uh, yeah. Sure, whatever,” Shawn said quickly before attempting his escape. It didn’t work.

“Shawn, wait.” Clearly Mateo’s view wasn’t too impacted because he still had the opportunity to give his boyfriend a curious look. “Are you okay? Normally, you get more excited about food.”

“I guess I’m just focused on the task at hand.”

Mateo accepted this, mostly because he got distracted by his own joy. “I’m so glad we’re doing this. I talked to my parents last night and they seemed genuinely happy for me.”

“That’s great, babe. But maybe we shouldn’t stop on the stairs.”

“Oh yeah,” Mateo laughed as if he weren’t giving his arms and legs a proper workout.

They went their separate ways with Shawn feeling even more shitty.

Yes, the nausea in his belly was growing and the mild headache was inching towards moderate, but that’s not why he felt bad. Mateo was so uncharacteristically giddy, and Shawn was ruining the good day. Mateo had only just convinced his parents that moving in with Shawn was what he wanted. Not that he needed their permission, but it helped to quell the anxiety around his family problems.

Shawn wanted to be as excited and optimistic at his boyfriend, but he was finding that harder to do as his symptoms grew worse. Besides, he didn’t want to stop and give Mateo a reason to delay the move any longer. They both wanted this. It was going to happen.

With a huff, Shawn grabbed another box out of the car. The box was as heavy as his head. He could barely lift either. His head felt it harboured a lake, with ripples lapping against the inside of his ears. He could hear a strange whooshing sound for the past half hour.

If his head was a lake, then his stomach was an ocean. The waters were choppy and seasick green, nothing like the calm turquoise waters of dreams. He hated the pressure that the box placed on his stomach, but that was the only way he could carry it up the stairs.

The tiny kitchen was quickly being hidden by Mateo’s things. There was one last space on the table for the box that Shawn carried. He put it down, and leaned on the back of a chair to catch his breath.

The room seemed to darken and swallow Shawn. He squeezed his eyes shut, feeling like the floor tilted at an extreme angle. Now he really was at sea. He didn’t know how long he stood still, but he didn’t move until he felt like he was back on land.

Shawn swallowed thickly as he opened his eyes. He shook his head, as if he could make the phantom water trickle out his ear. Then he spun around because there were more boxes to bring up. As he pivoted unsteadily on his feet, he found himself being held up by strong hands on either side of his arms.

“Hello,” Mateo said, suddenly aware that he had caught Shawn before they ran into each other. “That was close, huh?”

“Sorry,” Shawn mumbled as he stepped back. He thought he could squeeze past Mateo on his way out, but his body had other ideas. The floor must have tilted again, because he was forced to put his hand out on the table.

Weirdly, Mateo did not seem affected by the changing sea levels; he only seemed concerned as he watched Shawn sway. “Hey, are you alright?” he asked, tossing his arm out life a life ring. “You look like you're about to fall over.”

“I think I just tripped over something.” Shawn put his hand up to his head as a wave of dizziness crashed into him.

“Right…” Mateo looked down at the floor. There was nothing to trip over. His brow creased as he continued to hold Shawn’s gaze. “Is something wrong? You look flushed.”

“Well, what do you expect? We’re going up and down the stairs with boxes.”

Mateo bit his lip in worry. “I guess…but it looks like you have—”

Shawn quickly ducked away from Mateo’s outstretched hand that was obviously going for his forehead.

It was the wrong thing to do.

He was much too unsteady on his feet, and swiftly ducking under Mateo’s arm was not something he could do gracefully. Shawn was seconds away from losing his balance entirely, and he would have fallen on the floor if it weren’t for Mateo catching him…again.

“Whoa, I got you,” Mateo said. Something was wrong, and he wasn’t going to let Shawn convince him otherwise. The poor boy was practically limp in his arms. He led the two of them over to the couch. “Here, sit down, sit down.”

Shawn didn’t have much control over his body. Nor did he have the will to fight. So, he sat down and put his head in his hands. Even from inside the darkness of his hands, the world still spun. The water still sloshed in his belly and his skull. He felt like his heartbeat migrated to his forehead.

Mateo’s expression fell as he heard his boyfriend moan miserably. “Hey, look at me. What's wrong?” he cooed with his hand on Shawn’s back. “I can tell you don't feel good.”

Shawn slowly lifted his head. There was never any chance that he was going to hide how he felt from Mateo. His boyfriend’s soft voice made him want to tell him everything. So that’s what he did.

“I feel terrible,” he sighed, letting his head fall on Mateo’s shoulder. “My head hurts and my throat hurts. I’m so nauseous and dizzy. I feel like crap. And I think I have a fever…”

“Aw, baby, I’m sorry,” Mateo said quietly. He held Shawn’s head against him and ran his fingers through his hair. The heat radiated off him. “You definitely do have a fever.”

“I hate this.” Shawn buried his face deeper in the crook of Mateo’s neck. “I just wanted today to go well. I didn’t want you to be stressed or worried about anything. I’m sorry I messed it all up. I’m so sorry.”

“You don't have to say you're sorry. You're sick,” Mateo replied. “I don’t care if today wasn’t perfect. We have every single other day to make perfect.”

“Okay…thank you,” Shawn sighed, finally feeling like he was on dry land, or at least making his way to somewhere safe.

#sickfic #no emeto #flu #fever #cold #my ocs #Shawn #Mateo #illness #nausea #headache #stomach ache #fluff #angst #hurt/comfort #stomach ache fic #original characters #head cold

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writingsbychlo · 3 years

Text

sun in the shadows (08)

word count; 12,516

summary; noah does his best to fit in, and it doesn’t quite go as planned, but that’s okay.

notes; it’s finally happening.

warnings; noah is a bit of a jerk, but it’s over pretty quickly.

The sun was out again, the grass was filled with people, and it seems that they had gained the good luck you had missed. This sun was bringing warmth, a radical change from only a week ago, as your sundress today was entirely fitting. With hair clipped back away from your shoulders to keep cool and sunscreen on your bare skin to stop yourself from burning, you were soaking up the rays.

The group you were gathered with had been lucky enough to snag a table to sit out at, blankets laid out and pinned down in the light breeze by picnic blankets, shoes and rocks for those who hadn't made it to a table in time, and you didn’t envy them at all. Despite the warmth, the grass was still a little damp, mud still tar-like as it moved toward drying out, and yet the space was still heaving. It mildly resembled that of a festival or a beach on the Fourth of July.

Leaning back a little, your face tipped up to the sky, the chatter of your friends surrounding you drowning out as warmth washed over your face, lids closed but barely doing anything to block out the light, and you smiled. You loved the summer, always had, it was your favourite season. Something about the warmth, the longer nights and the smoky smell that came with barbecues or the salt of the ocean at the beach. As you sat, face directed to the sky, the sun was suddenly blocked, a cooler air falling over you, and your frowned, cracking your eyes open to see what had happened.

“Noah, hi.” You beamed, sitting up properly to turn around, and the man nodding his head, a hint of a smile on his face. A pair of dark black sunglasses were sitting on his nose, a pretty contrast to dark hair and darker denim jeans, a charcoal t-shirt on his shoulders, but there was no jacket. His bag was slung over one shoulder, and as his presence was made known, several others around the table greeted him, too. He seemed to have a warmer reaction to them, a wonderful smile as he offered his greetings, and your brows furrowed a little.

You ignored the action, despite its unfamiliarity with you. He was treating you once again like he had done months ago, when first getting to know you, a time when there was no trust built between you both. Taking a seat beside you at the table, you only just had a chance to move your skirt out of the way before he was sitting down. Swinging his bag over to the side, you waited for him to say anything else, his hands sitting atop the table as his forearms leaned on the wood, and your frown was only deepening.

Running a finger along his forearm, his face turned to you, brows rising up from behind the glasses, and a smirk on his face.

“You okay, there?” He teased, your eyes narrowing on him just a little, and his arm flexed slightly under your touch, before he was pulling his arm away from you, and the smirk on his face widened. “What? There’s something going on up there, so you might as well spill it.”

“Nothing, I guess.” Your words were mumbled out, and he only nodded, not bothering to wait for a second longer, before he was turning back to the conversation. Something within your stomach twisted. Confusion at his behaviour, uncertainty whether it was something you had done, or whether this was simply who he was when he didn’t let his anxiety get in the way. “I just thought I wasn’t seeing you until later, is all?”

“I thought I’d join you for lunch. Is that so bad?” He was grinning again, a more cocky smile than you were used to seeing from him, and on the few occasions you had seen it, it was never in a setting like this. “I thought you wanted me to get out there, make friends. Is it because I’m not all yours anymore?”

A couple of the other boys around the tables chuckled, various girlfriends and partners slapping at their arms in retaliation for the joke about being controlling, and your lips pursed into a thin line. “No. I just wasn’t expecting you, is all.”

He seemed a little taken aback by your shorter tone with him, one of your brows raising slightly in a challenge to his behaviour. Taking his glasses from the tip of his nose, he folded them in the middle, tucking them into his shirt, to rest on his colour. Sweet brown eyes were searching your own, and you shrugged a little. His smirk lessened, becoming a slight frown, and for a moment, you thought he was going to leave behind whatever it was that was wrong and let you in, but then, he was stolen away into a conversation.

Just a brief mention of his name was all that it took, and his focus was moving away from you entirely. You were glad that he had made more friends, you really were. You’d been working hard to try and introduce him to new people in a way that wouldn't spark his anxiety. Run-ins on walks the two of you shared, people you bumped into while out getting coffee or simply introducing him to someone you knew that you thought he’d get along with.

You’d seen Noah every single day for the last week, there hadn't been a moment that wen toast that the two of you hadn't been in contact, whether in person or via text. For as many days as you could count now, he was the last person you’d spoken to before going to bed, and the first person you had spoken to when waking up in the morning. He was the person who made you laugh when you were stressed, and the man who sent you recipes when you didn’t know what to cook. He was the person who sat by your side doodling on the tops of your work pages while you tried to get some studying done, before eventually distracting you enough to give up.

You couldn’t place anything you’d done wrong. The last time you’d seen him had been the afternoon before, when you’d gotten a coffee together and walked around campus, and you’d spoken to him only an hour or so ago. His behaviour made no sense to you, it was unprompted and without reason, and it was leaving the feeling of a put welling in your stomach.

The thought of it being some kind of reverse attempt at soothing his anxiety flittered over your mind, and so in an attempt to test the theory, you leaned over. Shuffling up close to his side, your arm looped through his, and he paused his speech for just a second. He’d been talking to the boy across from you both, telling them all about the renovation work he’d spent a summer doing with his dad on the house, and he turned to look at you.

You weren’t sure what you were expecting. Maybe for his arm to tighten around yours, to pull you in a little closer. A smile, a kiss to your forehead, something softer than the look you got with an arrogant smirk that made you feel like you were locked out from him, and when he turned back to continue the conversation without any of the options that had run through your head, your discomfort only increased.

Your arm sagged against his, his arm flexing for a second a spike of hope raced through you. But, he was simply shifting, his arm moving away from yours in a way that made you shuffle backwards. Reaching into his pocket, he produced his phone, laughing slightly at a joke that you hadn't caught from someone else around the table, and you pulled your hand back into your lap instead of placing it back through his arm.

Everything about it made you uncomfortable. The wondering, the insecurity, the fear of having done something wrong and forced him back into his shell with you. It was enough to make you feel sick to your stomach, and despite your lingering gaze on him for minutes now, he never turned to you. Checking your phone, the afternoon was tickling on. Your lunch was passed finished, your afternoon wide open with nothing else to do, as it seemed all plans with Noah seemed to have fallen through with his new personality.

You weren’t sure what had gotten into him, the new attitude was like that of half of your exes, or your friends and the people who were around you. You didn’t mind it so much on them, of course, it would the attitude that they would greet you with, because there was nothing deeper between you with them. Every friendship you had was teasing, there was nothing that merited anymore more. With them, your physical contact was limited to that of greetings and goodbyes, hugs and the occasional kiss to the cheek.

With Noah, though, you’d felt like something was different.

You’d felt like perhaps there was something more between you both, something a little beyond simple friendship. Something flirty, the kind of sweet-like-honey feeling that made you get butterflies and have your cheeks ache from smiling, or your eyes sore from staying up late, staring at a screen in the dark just to talk to him.

Clearly, that wasn’t how he felt, too.

You tried to join the conversation, to talk to the girls around you as the men were all sucked into a chat that you evidently weren’t intended to be a part of. You could keep up for a while offering your input on everything they talked about. You liked that about the girls you were friends with, they were easy to skip between topics, moving from one thing to another with ease, and sharing gossip that they had heard.

For a while, it made you feel better, a little more comforted and a little less alone, but despite his presence right next to your side, the warmth from his body and the brief brushes of his shoulder with yours when he moved, but it only made you feel more lonely. You felt shut out, as though the cold wall that you had spent so long breaking down had shot right back up, twice as thick. You couldn't take it anymore.

Packing away your books into your bag, you stood from the table, several pairs of eyes moving to you as you stood, and you offered them all the best smile that you could muster at that moment. Once they were all sealed away, you placed your bag up on your shoulder, and your hands met the wood. Leaning over slightly, the conversation went quiet as you became the centre of attention.

“Sorry to break this up, but I got to go.” Several soft complaints came, attempts to convince you to stay, and you smiled at the effort that at least some of your friends were making. “If anything exciting happens, text me.”

“You sure you don’t want to stay? I was just thinking we should go and get some coffee, or something.”

Laurel was staring up at you expectantly, her eyes a little wider and you sighed, shaking your head. As much as you’d loved to, the bad mood you had gained from Noah’s new attitude was bringing down your social battery, and you weren’t sure how much longer you’d last. “I would, but I have some studying to do, and a couple of other things. I’ll catch up with you later, though, alright?”

There were some goodbyes, and even a hug from the girl beside you, before you were beginning to trail away from them. The chatter around the table was quickly replaced by the groups you began to weave through, a polite smile on your face to everyone you passed by as you tried not to encourage any more conversations. By the time you were reaching the edge of the grass and moving to the concrete, the heavy footfalls of another person moving slightly faster than you were catching you up.

A hand on your shoulder, pulling you lightly to a stop, and as you turned around, you yes scanned up to find the face of a man you were familiar with as your instinct kicked in, accustomed to his height by now. “Where you goin’?” He questioned, panting a little from the effort he’d exerted to catch up with you, and you tried not to scowl at him as he stared.

His face was softer now, instead of the cheeky look he’d been holding all afternoon, it was something much more genuine and earnest, the kind of look you were used to from him. It was throwing you through a loop just trying to keep up with him. “Home. I have some work to do.”

You moved again, walking away from him, and he let out a confused grunt, boots scuffling on the tarmac of the parking lot as he caught back up to you. “Wait, wait, wait. I thought we were supposed to be going to the garage? I’m working on your car tonight, I brought new bulbs for your headlights because they’re kinda’ dimmed, and I don’t want you getting into an accident or anything.”

You frowned, eyes narrowing on him for a second, and your shoulders slumped under his gaze.

“What’s wrong?” His hand reached out, trailing down along your arm towards your hand, and he had the audacity to let a hurt look flicker across his face when you pulled back from him by just a fraction. It was enough, though. Enough for his hand to fall away, his fingertips brushing over your arm, before it fell back to his side, dismay evident on his face.

“What is with this hot and cold act you have going on?” His jaw dropped, no words coming out, and heat crawled up along his cheeks slightly while he gaped at you. Instead, you took the initiative, shaking your head a little at him, and he only sank in on himself a little further. “You were so sweet this morning. The Noah I’ve come to know, and then suddenly at lunch, you’re this different person. Kinda’ a jerk, actually. Now, you’re all gentlemanly again. I don’t get you, but I don’t want to hang out with someone who’s gonna’ pick me up and drop me like a yo-yo.”

His eyes flicked over your face, lips pursing closed in a tight line, and you waited a moment longer. As the silence grew, you moved away from him, taking steps again a little further, and it was a few more seconds before he moved again. He was slower, long strides falling him into step beside you, and he didn’t try to stop you, but his head hung a little, and he cleared his throat. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine, alright? But when the other Noah shows back up, let me know.”

He chuckled, dry and hollow, before he was rounding in front of you, giving you only a second to stop before you were colliding with him, and there were mere inches between your bodies. Staring up at him, your brows shot up again, and he tried to offer a gentle smile to you. “I just thought that if I acted the way your other friends acted, I’d fit in a little better, and you’d like me more.”

“You were trying to get me to like you more? By acting like a dick, and making me feel weird about ‘us’?”

“Reverse psychology?” He whispered, and he relaxed when the smile on your face came out.

“I’m the psychology major, leave that to me.” You teased, and he nodded his head. Leaning down, his nose brushed over your forehead, lips pressing to your skin in a soft kiss, the act you were used to, and you sighed as he did. “There he is.”

His hands smoothed over your sides, pulling you in closer and your hand came up to rest on his cheek. Stroking the skin across his cheekbone gently with your thumb, his head tipped into your hand.

“I don’t want you to be anyone else, okay? I like you plenty enough just the way you are.”

“You’ll still come hang out with me, then? Because it gets lonely when you don’t keep me company at the garage, now. I’ve become accustomed to having company.” He reached out again, his hand smoothing along your arm, and you didn’t pull away this time. Rather, you let his hands find yours, fingers weaving together until your palms were pressed up to one another. He smiled, something bashful and dopey, and it was an adorable kind of expression. The cold of the band he had wrapped around his thumb today was rubbing against your finger, and you squeezed at his hand. “I’m gonna’ take that as a ‘yes’.”

“‘Kay, I forgive you. Don’t get weird again, though.” He nodded his head, making you grin as he tugged you in a new direction, a ninety-degree angle to head towards the bike. He made his promise, making you grin when he held out a tattooed finger for you to link your own with, sealing the promise together.

Opening up the back-box on the bike, and pulling out your helmet. Letting you settle your things inside, he placed the helmet down on your head, pulling your hair back and out of the way. Leaning in, his lips brushed over your nose, breath panted lightly over your lips, something heavier settling over the both of you, and you couldn’t help the breathy giggle you let out.

You reached for his helmet, having learned where the catch underneath the seat was, and you opened it up to select the protection from inside. Lifting it, he ducked his head to let you place the helmet on his head, brushing back the longer strands of chocolate-brown hair to settle it there. Smoothing your fingers down along his jaw, you fastened up the catch under his chin, his head tipping up to let you do so. Before his head moved down, you shifted upward, pressing a kiss to the underside of his jaw, and he was beaming when his head came back down.

His finger spinach the tip of your nose, between his thumb and his index, your face screwing up with a soft laugh when he did. “You’re cute, you know that?”

“I’ve been told.” Swinging your leg over the bike, you settle down first, your hands landing on the steering, a dangerous look portrayed him as you smirked. “In a summer dresses and lollipops kind of way, right?”

“Mhm.” He teased, fastening your helmet up and tipping it to sit properly on your head as he stood before you. Moving his eyes further down, his sights scanned over you “You look good on my bike.”

“You should let me drive. I think I’ve got it, now. I would be awesome at this.”

He chuckled, shaking his head as you shuffled back to make space for him. With every catch done up and the boxes sealed, his leg swung over the bike, settling himself down on the leather. With the impact of him sitting, you slid down the seat, the insides of your thighs pressing to the outsides of his own, and your front was pressed to his back. His hand came out, circling behind his body to find your wrists, and he pulled your arms around his body. “If you drove, how would I get you to hold onto me like this? I like the attention, what can I say?”

“You could just ask.”

“Oh, yeah?” He twisted the keys in the ignition, the bike sparking to life underneath you, and your hands tightened a little more around him. Revving the bike slightly, he kicked off the latch that kept it secured to the ground, balancing it between his own feet as you tucked yours away. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“You should.” You mumbled, chin tucked over his shoulder to whisper the words near his ear, and you could see the smile stretch on his face. Pulling back, your forehead rested between his shoulder blades, squeezing him once in signal to let him know you were ready, and then he took off.

You’d grown used to it now, the slight grind of the tyres on the concrete as he took off and then the streets whizzing by. You like the sights, the way the lights seemed to become like a blur when you moved, The tips and tilts, the way the bike bounced when you went through potholes or over the bumps in the road, it had all started to feel natural. It was the same when you were with him.

Noah had been a stranger to you, but he was a constant in your life now. He was by your side more than he wasn’t now, and you couldn't deny the bond that you’d formed with him It was like nothing you’d ever experienced before. He didn’t force you to be anything you weren’t, he didn’t make you feel insecure, or less worthy, or like you had to constantly be the best version of yourself to impress him. He didn’t drain you down like others did, he didn’t make you feel less, or like you couldn't be yourself. You loved who you were around him, and how being with him made you feel.

Twisting your head, your eyes closed, cheek resting against his back as he moved. He was going slower than usual today, the journey taking a little longer, and while the quiet was filling the space between you both, it was comfortable. Everything with Noah seemed to be that way, now. The two of you were seemingly opposites, everything about you felt like something that would clash but there was just something between the two of you that worked. Like magnets drawn together, or opposing puzzle pieces, you fit together perfectly.

He forced you out of your comfort zone, to do things like ride a motorbike while you forced him to approach the people he’d seemingly decided hate him, only to discover he was capable of making friends. Each of your downfalls, he seemed to lift up. One by one, he was raising you up, making you a better person, and giving back to you just as much as you gave to him. It was effortless to be around him, something that had happened both slowly and at light speed. Winning his trust had turned into so much more, once the door had been opened, it was like the two of you had moved past acquaintances and friends, to hover on the verge of something else.

He was constantly on your mind, and when he wasn’t, it didn’t take long before you saw something that reminded you of him, a joke or a comment online, even just the way someone would walk across campus or the outfit they’d wear, it all seemed to come back to him.

When the pair of you had finally pulled up to the edge of his garage, he was cruising slowly between the sheds. More doors than usual were open today, the crowds were a little busier, but with the sunny weather, you weren’t so surprised. The tones of different music melded together, more students willing to come and spend prolonged periods of time outside when the weather was warm, and the days lasted longer.

Setting up the stand on the bike, your feet reached the floor, trembling a little still from the vibrations of the engine. The sounds went dead as he pulled the keys from the machine, but neither of you moved, his hands dropping down to find your own for just a second, and you lifted one hand. Your fingers weaved with his, before he was pulling your hand up, kissing the back of your hand gently, and the feeling made something explode within you. Butterflies, a tidal wave, something crushing and exhilarating and racing all in one, your heart beating erratically as he lowered your hand back down. “I’m sorry about before. I just wanted to be more like other people you hang out with, other people you’re friends with, or you’ve dated, or whatever. I didn’t want to be a freak.”

Standing up from the bike, you undid the catch on your helmet, putting it down on the seat as he copied your actions, going from looking up at you to once again looking down as he stood taller than you. “You know, when I’m with you, I feel so much better than I do when I’m with them.”

“I just want to be the right guy, you know? Be someone everyone likes, be someone who can fit in. Stiles does it so effortlessly, I can’t be like that.”

“You shouldn’t have to, because I think you’re great the way you are.” You tapped the tip of his nose, the same way he had done to you, and his face screwed up with ticklish responses exactly the same way that you had. “It’s a good thing you cut that out, though, because I got you something.”

“A gift?” He whispered, and you only nodded. Opening the box on the back of the bike, you swapped the helmet in your hand for your bag, laying it out onto the seat so that you had access to it. Opening up the bag and digging through it, you searched until your fingers brushed the silky material, and you could grasp the small item.

“It’s just something small.” You mumbled, beginning to untangle it from the contents inside, and hoping it hadn't gotten creased. Producing the item, his eyes dropped down from your face to the item in your hands, a neutral expression taking over as he considered it. “I like to put decals on my laptop, and all the ones I had were getting old and peeling. I was ordering some new ones, and I saw this one. It made me think of you.”

“It's a daisy.” He took it from you, thumb stroking across the shining plastic, and you nodded.

“Yeah, from the day that you and I sat in the field, and you let me put daisies in your hair.” You reached up, brushing your fingers through his hair lightly, and fluffing it back up from where it had fallen flat. “I figure you could put it on your laptop, or bedpost, or maybe don’t stick it to anything. You could put it on your pinboard in your room, or use it as a bookmark. I don’t know.”

“I love it.”

“You do?” Your heart had been racing, the uncertain expression he had that you couldn't possibly decipher became something like the sun, a wide smile as his chewed-down thumbnail picked at the edges. Peeling the plastic backing away from the transparent and inked design, your brows raised. He moved, pressing the edge of the plastic onto his bike, and sealing it down firmly, your eyes widening. “Noah! That’s your bike!”

“I know. I’ve never had a decal on it before.”

“But, what if it ruins your paint job, or something? I didn’t expect you to stick it on your bike, of all things!” He smirked, his hands coming up to cup your cheeks as you rambled to him. Your eyes moved to the sticker, your face cupped by warm palms as your finger smoothed over it, the white and yellow standing out prominently against the black. “What if you decide you don’t like it, or you hate where it’s positioned, or-”

Your breath was held in your lungs as he dipped down closer than he’d ever been as his nose bumped against yours. Your lips brushed, his tongue poking out to wet his lips slowly, and you let out a shaky groan as he did. Your eyes closed, lashes tickling against his as he lingered there The tension was palpable, the split second that he lingered there felt like a thousand dragging on, before his lips met your own.

Soft and warm, his lips pressed tentatively against yours at first, a second becoming two that was filled with hesitation. It was simply his pressed to your own, nothing happened for a second, before it did. His lips moved, fingers digging a little more firmly into your jaw, and his palms slid down. His hand was sitting over your neck, feeling the pounding of your pulse under his hand no doubt, and your mind finally seemed to catch up.

Your lips twisted, a smile making itself evident, and your giggle was muffled against his lips as you sagged a little in his hold. His grip loosened a little, his kisses stopped, pulling back enough to press his forehead to your own, taking a breath, before he was pulling away. “That’s not the reaction I was hoping for.”

There was gravel in his voice, and he swallowed thickly to clear it away, pupils wider than you’d ever seen them when he looked back to you. “I’m sorry, I’m not laughing at you. I was just caught off-guard.”

“Couldn’t have been that off-guard, I’ve not really been subtle, lately.”

“I just figured I’d have to make the first move.” You teased, his eyes rolling, and one hand lowered further. Smoothing over your side, his hand found your hip, rubbing soothing circles through the material and your whole body felt lost. Like you were floating in the clouds, but weights were tied to your fingertips, arms heavy as you raised them to loop around his neck. “Kiss me again. I won’t laugh this time, I swear.”

“If you do, I’m never kissing you again.” He mumbled, dipping down to brush a pout over your lips, and you scoffed slightly, head pushing up to meet him.

“Liar.” Your words were lost, mouth meeting his in a sweet kiss, and he sighed through his nose as you connected with him. This time, you were ready. Your lips moved back with his, a soft and slow kiss that nothing like you’d ever experienced before.

It was like fireworks, every place he touched as the hand on your waist flexed, and the one from your neck smoothed down along your bag to pull him closer. Your fingertips were tingling, one hand slipping to the back of his neck to hold him close as his mouth worked with yours in a way that emptied your mind. You were clinging to him, one hand down over his chest, feeling his heart racing through his shirt, and as he pulled away, one of his hands came up to hold onto your own on his chest.

You didn’t say anything, and neither did he. You didn’t know what to say, and neither did he. In fact, you were both completely speechless, a few more stolen pecks and bumps of your noses, before there was a grin cracking on your cheeks that you couldn’t contain, and he stood tall again, a kiss on your forehead before he was tucking you under his chin and close to his body.

“I’ve been thinking about doing that for a while. I didn’t know it would feel like that, though.” He whispered, hands taking yours on both sides, linking your fingers together as you rested against his, and you could only nod in agreement.

“Why didn’t you do it sooner?”

“I didn’t know you wanted me back.” He shrugged, and you pulled away, shock written on your face when he peered down to see you.

“I’ve not really been subtle, lately.” You threw his own words back at him, slightly pinker lips than usual showing off white teeth in a smile, and you rolled your eyes at him. “Wanna’ fix my car and talk mechanic to me and I’ll pretend I know what you’re saying?”

“I’ll simplify it for you.” He teased, letting go of your hands after one final squeeze to retrieve his belongings. Zipping up your bag and slinging it over one shoulder, he swapped his helmet for his backpack, tucking his keys into the front pocket, and you followed him around to the front of the building. Putting in the code on the padlock, he undid the lock at the bottom, the rickety metal shutter rolling up higher and higher until the whole doorway was exposed.

Your car lay inside, the hood already popped open and the engine was taken apart. Pieces were on the floor and the counters, like some kind of mechanic gore scene, and you jumped a little as he threw the heavy padlock onto the wooden table. Your bag followed, his was dumped by the side of the car, and he pulled it open, producing four boxes of lightbulbs for your car, shaking each one for a second to ensure they hadn't broken. He seemed pleased with what he heard, laying the boxes along the roof of the car.

It was propped up now, sitting on an angle as it was elevated into the air, and the board that he used to slide under it was still on the floor, indicating that it had been recently used. Taking your phone from your bag, you grabbed for the speaker, hidden in the same place you’d put it on your latest session with him, and began to untangle the wire. Once it was set up, pulled out as far from the wall as it would go, you set your phone down, plugging the device in.

The light on the base changed from red to green, signalling that it had connected, and the speaker let out a crackling sound to confirm the volume. Adjusting the dial a little, and being aware of Noah’s neighbours surrounding you, you turned it down a fraction. As you scrolled through the first couple of sounds, beginning to choose a set to start queuing up, a warm body was meeting your back, and hand smoothing around your waist to sit over your stomach, and once again, your mind was going blank.

His chin hooked onto your shoulder, your heart racing in your chest and a flush covered your entire body, somehow managing to feel like you were on fire in your own skin while also shivering a little, goosebumps rising along your exposed arms. He leaned down, pressing a kiss to the skin of your shoulder just to the left of your dress strap, and you leaned back into him a little.

Physical contact was nothing new between the two of you, and had he taken these actions only a day or so ago, you probably would have had a calmer reaction than you did now, but there was something more hanging over it now. A line crossed, a new page in the book, something entirely different that made it that much more exhilarating.

You continue your scrolling, the soft melodies of ‘Brandy’ playing across the air, and the man behind you hummed approvingly. “I forgot that this song even existed. It’s a good choice.”

“It’s my favourite song.” You mumbled, your body beginning to sway side to side with his own in a very simple dance. The tune took up, and you sang lightly under your breath to yourself, Noah humming along behind you as you continued to add songs. Occasionally, he would join you, his finger coming out to tap or point at the screen, a silent suggestion on which ones to add, and within a few minutes, the songs were collected. Enough for an hour, at least, possibly even two, and then you could reconsider what to play when the music ran out.

“Your car should be up and running soon, I’ve been making some pretty good progress on it.”

You turned to face him, sitting down backwards on the spinning stool with the wooden top, and he was walking back toward the car, the toolbox on the opposite workbench already open. His back was to you, grey shirt stretched across broad shoulders, the muscles in his back evident when he leaned over and you let your eyes linger a little longer than usual. The blush you got every time you realised you were checking him out was still present, but it didn’t feel as taboo as it had previously.

“There’s something rattling in your engine and I can’t figure out what, I’ve taken out everything he could be, so I’m starting to think it’s something underneath.”

“That why this place looks like a car’s worst nightmare?” You teased, eyes moving across the pieces of removed engine, and he chuckled, sifting through the tools inside.

“Pretty much. I’ll put it all back together, though, don’t worry. I’ll feel better knowing you’re out on the road in something safe.” You cooed a little at him, his sweet gesture making your chest flood with adoration, bursting from the inside out, and he only rolled his eyes at you, glancing back over his shoulder for a split second. “I’m not sure what we’re going to do once it’s fixed, or where we’ll hang out.”

“Oh, I’m sure we’ll figure something out.” Your tone was coy, and he chuckled, turning back to look at you. He had chosen what he was looking for, something that looked like a short and blunt tool. You weren’t sure what the folded end would be used for, but he was straight into action, leaning over your engine and reaching inside. Twisting in your seat, you reached for your bag, pulling out all of your books. Flicking through your notebook to find the latest empty page, your bag sat open. You’d gathered more than enough information from the pair to be able to start making your conclusions now, but you still felt behind.

Stiles was much further ahead, he had started forming his conclusions and searching for holes in his evidence almost three weeks ago, and he was beginning to redraft his final presentations as he produced a first copy. You were still a while off of being at that stage, becoming progressively more distracted by Noah and the puzzle he presented as you deciphered him, but you couldn't help it.

He was rattling around behind you, a sound that had distracted you for a while at first but had become background noise just like the music had, fading into something that helped your mind to work better than the silence ever did. Your notes seemed like they were blurring on the page, your mind far too busy thinking about recent events than the notes you’d taken on the two.

The songs ticked by, the tinkering behind you fading away and starts and ends of your engineer turning on and off, rattling slightly and making the air around you vibrate for just a second. Your pen scribbled song your paper comparing answers and beginning to draw what information you could and in the times that your mind wandered, you doodled borders around the notes that were just for you to see. The notebook that had once been fresh and crisply pressed was now ragged around the edges, worn pages from constant flicking back and forth, filled with ink and your thoughts as you tried to get them all down.

Occasionally, Noah would come over to join you, a half-drunk bottle of water that he was getting through as he leaned don the unit beside you. His notes had joined your one, his thoughts written down onto the paper, sometimes a joke, something with a sarcastic comment about what you had written, and sometimes it was just his one doodles to join yours.

The work was progressively getting done, and while it wasn’t nearly proceeding at the rate you would get it done alone, you preferred working slower and having his company than racing through it but being all alone. It was more enjoyable, especially when he began to relax more, the deeper rasp of his voice like a security blanket that forced your body to relax once he let go enough to start singing along lowly to the songs.

By the fourth one he had sung, you realised you hadn't written anything in almost ten minutes, pen hovering over the page, and it was beginning to feel hopeless. The sweltering heat was beginning to settle over you like a thick blanket on a too-hot summer’s night. As the afternoon moved on, the breeze was dying down, and the once temperate heat was becoming stifling as it sat stagnantly.

Closing your book and folding your pen inside, you called it a day, deeming it a good day’s work as you put your notebook into your bag, zipping it up, and a soft sound of something dropping beside you caught your attention. Turning around, a slightly damp pile of grey sat beside you, and upon picking it up for further inspection, you released it was a t-shirt.

Turning to the car, the man you were with had disappeared underneath, melodic voice bouncing from the metal on the underside of your car, but the happy trail of dark hairs along the bottom of a toned stomach was still visible, and your mouth rapidly dried at the sight. You turned away, feeling wrong for staring, but like a magnet, your gaze was drawn back to him.

Folding the material you still held neatly as something to simply busy yourself, the chair squeaked as you twisted to place it back down on top of your bag, no longer in a crumpled heap, before turning back to the vehicle. With elbows braced on the edge of the wooden counter, your eyes moved along it. Still covered in a layer of dirt and dust, it needed a good wash, but you’d hadn't bothered to venture as far as the carwash in a long time, trying to save the little life it had left for important travel. As soon as it was back in your possession, however, that would be one of your first priorities.

Moving a little further along, your eyes reached the back wheels, new tyres having been one of the first things Noah had done for you the grip on the other’s fading away, and you vaguely remembered him telling you all about the brake-pads at some point. His chatter about mechanics always became a mess in your mind, much like you were sure your psychology chatter became for him, but you listened intently and tried to keep up, just as he did for you. Simply hearing him talk so passionately was a treasure in itself.

“Oh, my God, you got that dent out.” Your eyes honed in on the spot, and while it wasn’t exactly perfect, it was considerably better than it had been. The wheels of the board scraped along the ground, sliding his body out from under the vehicle.

“Yeah, I noticed it when swapping out your tyres.” You turned back up him, the wide beam on your face dimming a little in shock, because you’d managed to forget his shirtless state for just a second, but now, it was crashing over you all in a sudden rush. His hands were stained with oil, and he stood up the folded muscles from his hunched position going taut as he stood, and he grabbed the nearest scrap of fabric he had, trying to wipe down his hands as best as he could. “It wasn’t too hard, I just had to hammer it out and smooth it over.”

“That was there since I got the car, I thought I’d never get it out!”

Your voice was a little shaky, and as he made his way over, your eyes were drawn to the tattoos on his chest. You’d seen him shirtless twice before, but you’d never had the chance to observe the designs up close. Slightly distorted by sweat and the grease from the underside of the car, you couldn't make them all out, and your fingers itched to reach up and trace the drawings that you had yet to discover.

He took the bottle from by your bag, undoing the cap with ease and raising it to take a gulp of the liquid, and every muscle he had seemed to shift and flex under his skin with the simple action. He wasn’t even trying, tired and dirty and sweaty and he was putting no effort in, but you were sure that you hadn't had a coherent thought for hours now. The song playing came to an end, the music fading out into silence, and you waited for the next one to come, but it never did. That was the second loop you’d put the music on, the hours having flown by, and the sun was shining in to leave longer shadows across the floor as it moved across the sky.

“You’re bored, aren’t you?”

“Little bit.” You grinned, holding up two fingers but making sure they were very close together, just to show a small amount, and he chuckled. Wiping the back of a hand over his mouth, he cleared excess water from there, before he was holding the bottle out to you. Taking it gratefully, your mouth had been dry and desperate for a drink since the moment he’d pulled away from you after that first kiss, leaving you dried out and thirsty ever since.

Taking a sip, he stepped away from you, moving to grab your car keys from the side unit and moved to the driver’s seat. The door was already open, and rounding it to the other side, he twisted the key to start the car up. The engine came to life almost immediately, no spluttering or grinding of parts, no multiple attempts needed, and it purred happily as it rotated inside itself, as though it was a brand new vehicle. It wasn’t loud or clunking, and there was no unusual sound being made. Clearly, Noah was just as happy with that result, because he cheered a little to himself.

Shifting inside, he checked various options, everything from the indicators to the headlights and the fog lights. The new bulbs were lighting up perfectly and brightly, clear and start white as opposed to the faded yellow they had been beginning to gather with age. “I am so impressed. Like, awestricken, really.”

“Thanks, kitten.'' Just when you thought you’d managed to put a cap on it, and get your head in a reasonable place, he had thrown a petname in your direction. Once again, you were speechless, thoughtless, and senseless, unable to control the dreamy sigh that was almost a breathy giggle at the sound, trying not to fawn too obviously over the new treatment he was giving you. “I think that pretty much does it.”

“So, when do I get to take her home?”

He was beaming, tapping the roof of the car and killing the engine, before nodding his head at himself. “You can drive her home right now, if you just give me a second to unhook and lower it back to the ground at the back.”

“We’re leaving?”

“You’re bored, and we’re pretty much done here.” You frowned, not having intended to bring your time to an end, as though he could read your mind, he continued on with what he had to say. “Doesn’t mean we have to say goodbye just yet. We can find something else to do.” He rounded the car, hooking a finger under your chin to tip your head up to meet his gaze. He was looking down on you with a sweet smile, nothing but peace and serenity written on his face. “You’re sure you really like me? We’re, like, total opposites.”

“Opposites attract.” You teased, his eyes rolling, and he stepped a little closer to you. The chair made you feel too low, his hair falling into his face as he leaned over you, and you stood to meet him, his gaze following you as he did.

“I thought you were just going to be a burden, you know. I thought that doing this study was gonna’ suck, and I was going to be miserable, but getting to know you has been so different so what I expected.”

Lifting his hand, his palm smoothed over your cheek, letting you tip into his touch. “Yeah, well, first impressions can be misleading. I can be pretty cool.”

“You’re the coolest person I know.” He whispered, gaze dropping down to linger on your lips for a second, and you smiled softly, his face mimicking the notion.

He stared for a second longer, before dipping down. He hesitated for just a second, a laugh carried on his breath that you barely caught, and you leaned up too. Your nose brushed his, nervous breaths shared in the hardly-existent space between you both as your lips continued to brush lightly. He dipped down, his lips pressing lightly to your own as the tension finally came to an end, and there was a smile on his lips as he did. It made it hard, the smiles that neither of you could contain, and your hand roe up to cup his cheek.

Timid pecks, delicate laughs between broken kisses as your noses bumped and lips puckered, trying to contain yourselves. Your heart was racing, he was just as nervous as you were, the new boundary as a friendship turned to a relationship, and it would take a little longer to get used. When he pulled back, a final and longer kiss pressed to your lips, that same sweetly dopey expression was on his face, warm cheeks and sparkling eyes.

“I like that.”

“I got oil on your face.” He mumbled, picking up his shirt from beside you both, shaking it out from its folded position. Hooking the edge of it over his thumb, he wiped at the smear on your face, leaning down to press a kiss to the spot once it was cleared, and your cheeks were almost aching for your smile.

He stepped back from you, lips rolling together to contain his smile, and as he walked, he was pulling his shirt up and over his head. Beginning to pump at the jack behind the car with his foot, your car was lowered back to the ground the back wheels finally touching against the concrete again. With a screeching sound against the concrete, he dragged away the piece of equipment, metal scraping on the stonework floor, and he left it abandoned in the back of the shed.

Reaching for the keys at the edge of your car, he threw them to you, barely giving you a second to catch them before he was snickering to himself at your fumbling, the keys jingling in your touch. “C’mon then. You must be excited to get back in your car.”

You nodded, slinging your bag from the side into the passenger seat, and he was holding your car door open for you, letting you settle inside. Closing it up carefully, you reached for the lever under your seat, adjusting it back to how you liked it. He’d clearly been inside, the distance between the pedals and the seat of legs much longer than yours, and as you adjusted yourself, his arms folded against the edge of the door. Plugging in the key and switching on the engine. As it tumbled to life, you were able to roll the window down, finding it much cleaner and smoother in its movements than it had been.

He leaned in more, bent at the waist as he peered inside, and your fingers flexed on the wheel. “How’s it feel to be back in your car?”

“I feel independent again.” you turned to him, the car still rumbling underneath you. “Thanks to you.”

“Well, try your air-con.” He pointed to the nozzle, all wiped down and polished inside, and you did as told. Instead of sputtering and squeaking, they came on quietly, warm air from the engine turning to cold a second later, and it was a refreshing relief compared to the heat of the day as the sun dared to meet the horizon. “Better, right?”

“Incredible.” You mumbled, daring to mess with the other controls. Your wipers didn’t scrape at the glass, but moved quietly and conveniently, and the windscreen wash was even functional, a little burst of water covering the glass and being quickly wiped away. The gear stick wasn’t so sticky and the pedals were easy to press on once again, just the right amount of pressure underneath. There were no unusual noises coming from your engine. “Almost feels surreal.”

“Yeah, well, the only thing I didn’t do is put gas in the tank, so you’re gonna’ have to do that on your way back.”

“Back to where?” You turned to him, a cheeky look on your face and he smirked, matching you, and settling a little lower until your eyes were level.

“Stiles isn’t home. We can play video games in the main room, and I can do more of this-” He leaned in, pulling you in with a thumb and forefinger on your chin. The smirk he wore became a pout, his lips pressing to your own, and there was more confidence behind it now. All of your kisses so far had been shy and scared, testing the waters and adjusting to how it felt, but now, he was a little more sure of himself. His lips teased over yours, more enveloping than a simple kiss, and you were melting into him. Leaning closer toward the door of the car, your hand was coming to brace yourself against it, finding his arm on the edge of the rolled-down window.

“I like that plan.”

“I’ll meet you there, then.” He stood up, hands patting the edge of the car, before stepping backwards. With a wave before leaving, you undid the clutch, shifting it into first gear, and creeping forwards. Weaving through the boxes carefully, you were unfamiliar with the pathways, making your way towards the road as Noah walked alongside you guiding you to the main quarter. As soon as you knew your way, he was pausing, waving at you in your rearview mirrors and walking back towards his garage shed.

The drive was much easier, a car you felt like you could rely on as you went along, and you were barely along the road before the warning light on your dashboard was flicking on to warn you of a petrol depletion. It seemed that you had only just missed the rush-hour traffic, the roads starting to clear out a thin down, and you were almost disappointed by it. It meant that you didn’t get a chance to test out all your gears and brakes, with how seamless your journey went, but the last thing you wanted was for the car to overheat as you drove along, breaking again already.

Dangling from your mirror as you checked behind, you became aware of the little tree hanging there. A small piece of green felt, the pine smell filling the cabin as you drove becoming less of a mystery, and you lifted your hand to it. Running your fingers lightly over the surface, the cupboards underneath was sturdy, the tree spinning on its string when you let it go.

It was such a small gesture, and yet something so sweet about it as it hung there. Like a permanent reminder of him, something you’d see every time you drove, whether he was with you that day or not. Pulling up into the gas station, your car came to a stop, easy and simple without a lot of stuttering and jerking motions. It was like a miracle. Hopping out, the air-con that had been inside had grown comfortable, the warm air outside was suddenly prickling along your skin, like an itch that you couldn’t get to.

Rounding to the side and beginning to start the pump, your eyes moved over the station. There was only one other car, a mother with two children in car seats in the back, who both seemed to be hyperactive. They were screaming at the top of their lungs, giggling and smacking their hands against the window, and as her eyes met your own, she gave you a tried smile. You offered a little wave, the two small children inside the car reciprocating it too, and only a moment later, her husband was appearing from inside the shop. The bell overhead jingled as he exited, jogging slightly as he put his wallet back into his pocket.

They were pulling out as you finished, letting the nozzle drip clean for a second before you were putting it back on the hook. Locking up the car and making your way inside, there was a swift breeze of air conditioning over the doorway, the air inside chilled, and it was almost a little too cold. Rows full of treats and food for road trips and hungry children, or simply just bored snacking were laid out, multicoloured wrappers that were eye-catching.

Wandering through the aisles, you built an armful of the treats, unable to resist temptations as you bought a range of everything from pretzels and chips to candy and chocolate. The cashier behind the counter was chewing gum, a bored look on his face and you thought that he couldn't possibly be older than Junior year in high school as he rang it up. Packing it all into a bag and adding your tab from the lot outside, your card was pressed into the reader. Punching your PIN in to follow it, the out of date machine took a few extra seconds to go through, before your payment was confirmed.

A full tank and a bag of snacks, and you were back in the car, tucking the recent purchases down into the shadowed footwell and out of the way of the sun that was just beginning to brush the horizon. The clock on your dash told you the veering was rolling in, the night going to be uncomfortably hot and your car started back up with ease. The display flashed for a second as the engine restarted, and then, you were on the road.

Parking up beside Stiles’ building, windows rolled up and your snacks hidden in your backpack, you swung it onto your shoulder. Three flights of stairs, one long corridor, and two knocks on hardwood, and you waited. It was nostalgic to be here waiting for him, but the nerves you’d had months ago when waiting for a boy you barely knew were entirely washed away. Swinging it open, Noah filled the doorway, a smile so bright you wanted to cover your eyes on his face as he greeted you.

“Wow, what a surprise. Fancy seeing you here.”

“Oh, were you expecting someone?” You played along, and he let you inside, closing the door behind you as you toed off your shoes to leave beside the doorway.

“You know, I was. I have a super cute girl coming over soon, so you’re gonna’ have to make this quick.” He shrugged, his hands coming to find your waist and pull you a little closer as soon as you’d put your bag down on the couch. “Oh, wow, super cute girl alert. Hi.”

You’re secretly a total dork, huh?” Leaning up, you pressed a kiss to his cheek, hand sliding down over his chest, and there was the sticky printing of a patch under your skin. Looking down to his shirt, it was navy blue now, a logo for a band you didn’t recognise beginning to fade on the front. “You changed.”

“I was sweaty and oily.” He took your hand, dragging you over to the couch, and pushing you to sit down with the other hand on your shoulder. He moved away, switching on the televisions and the console, two drinks of soda laid out before you, and he slumped down into the couch by your side. Your legs folded underneath yourself, taking the bag from the cushion it lay on, and dropping it into his lap. “A school bag. Thanks so much, just what I wanted, how’d you know?”

“Look inside.” Your eyes rolled involuntarily despite your grin, and he did as told, nimbly undoing the zip on it, and opening the bag up. Pulling out the folded brown pair, he indeed the top, peering inside at the contents.

“Oh, you brought snacks.” He stared in at them, before he was turning to you, a playfully accusatory look on his face as his eyes narrowed. “What did you do? Did you break that car already?”

“No.” You frowned, his finger coming up to poke and smooth at the wrinkled forming o your forehead. “Why do you think I did something?”

“Because all the previous times you’ve brought me food, it’s because you did something.” You scoffed, smacking at his arm and pretending it was an accident as you picked up a candy bar out of the bag, peeling the wrapper down.

“What the hell do you mean ‘all’?” You bit a chunk off of it, and he shook a bag of chips, distributing the flavour inside, before tearing it open. He crunched loudly as he placed one of the triangular chips into his mouth, twisting to face you some more.

“Okay, first time; You bought my coffee after ambushing me in my home and insulting me-”

“I did not insult you, you jumped to conclusions!” He pressed a finger to your lips, silencing your words, and grinning cheekily.

“It’s rude to interrupt people, you know.” He placed another chip into his mouth, chewing happily, and lowering his hand from your mouth. “Second time, you brought pizza after ambushing me on my lunch break.” Your jaw dropped, but you remained quiet, a huff and a scowl on your lips at his words. “Third time, you brought lasagne after ambushing me at the coffee cart.”

“I don’t like the way that you portray me.”

“Fourth time, you forced me to go out to a restaurant, which you technically didn’t bring food to, but it was still overwhelming.” You sighed, taking a bite of your chocolate, and he wiggled his fingers a little as he rode his thumb to create a fifth finger. “Fifth time, you said you were planning to bring me food but didn’t have any after the first time you ambushed me at my garage.”

“Why do you keep saying ambushed?” You scowled, his hand coming down to rest on his knee, and you pushed it away. That only made him laugh, his hand coming back, leaning down to grip just above your ankle at your calf a little more firmly, and lifting your leg up.

“Because that’s exactly what you did.” He pulled you closer, your legs slinging across his lap as he dragged you across the couch, and he looked overly proud of himself for the shocked noise you elicited as he did so. “But, somewhere between the third and fourth times, I stopped being irritated by it, and your continued persistence and unwavering enthusiasm because kinda’ cute.”

His hand came up to brush through his hair, he broke the silence with the loud crunching of another potato chip. “Can I ask you a question, though?”

“Only if you promise to kiss me afterwards.”

“Deal.” You teased, shuffling a little closer to him, and he moved the bag of snacks from leaning on his stomach to sitting beside the both of you. “You know that first time I came to see you here, when I asked you about the study? You said some really mean things about yourself, like ‘criminal’ and ‘lowlife’, what did you mean?”

His lower lip dragged through his teeth, eyes leaving yours for a second, and the sweet and joyful moment between you both came crashing down into something much heavier. “Well, if it makes you feel any better, I’m not actually a criminal. People just started that because one night I was at a bar on the edge of town that seems a little sketchy, and a bar fight broke out, The cops showed up, and a guy got stabbed. I was actually out the back smoking at the time, so, I didn't even see all the excitement.”

“I’m sorry that the rumour started, though.” Your hand sank to his cheek, thumb stroking over his skin slowly.

“Stiles got really mad when he heard that rumour, and he cleared it up on his podcast, but the damage was done. Yet another reason why nobody wanted to be my friend.” You leaned in, kissing his forehead like he tended to do for you, and he tipped up, nose bumping yours in a silent ‘thank you’ for the comfort. “I just saw myself as a low-life. I let the rumours travel, I wasn’t even trying to make friends. I let my whole college experience slip away because I wanted to avoid confrontation or stress. You might have ambushed me, and forced me out of my comfort zone, but I think someday, I’m gonna’ look back on that and be grateful.”

You grinned, forehead resting on his as your hand slipped down, finding his shoulder instead, and his head tipped a little further upwards.

“Now, make good on that promise.”

“Oh, I plan to..” You whispered, lips brushing against his teasingly. You stayed where you were, though, letting him lean in a little closer until he almost had his lips pressed to yours, before you were shifting. He huffed, chasing you again, and you repeated the action, making him groan at the brief teasing. You chuckled, his hand flexing around your ankle, before his hand was sliding up to your knee, and you laughed a little more at the needy action.

“You’re being cruel.” He whined, and you were ready to give in, fingertips pressing into the flesh of his shoulder through the new shirt, before there was muffled shouting from the corridor. Loud, and angry, only getting clearer as the voice moved closer to the apartment, and it wasn’t until there was a set of keys in the lock and the door was opening.

You pulled back, sitting up a little further as Stiles came in, but the man didn’t seem to notice the two of you yet. He was yelling, a series of curse words to whoever was in the corridor behind him, and you recognised the equally angry voice of Derek, before the door was slamming shut. He paused, letting out a loud scream of anger at himself as he stared at the closed door, and you twisted on the couch, kneeling on it with your arms braced along the back to look at him.

Hanging up his jacket, Stiles turned to you both, jumping as he saw you there. The anger remained for only a second, before it was melting away into guilt, quickly followed by sadness. His shoulders slumped, scowl becoming a heavy frown as the wrinkles loosened into something sad, and he was frowning at you both.

“Sorry for all the yelling.” He started at you both for a second longer, his lower lip practically wobbling with his sadness as his hands came up to clutch together in front of himself.

“Is this a best friend or a brother moment? I can’t tell, what did Derek do?” You tried to keep your voice low. Shifting your bag to the floor with a sweep of your hand to make space for Stiles, and shuffling up so that he could sit in the middle of you both.

“If it’s a sex thing, it’s definitely a best friend thing.” Noah added, and you turned to stare at him, incredulous above all, but Stiles let out a weak and watery laugh.

“It’s really nice to have you both here.” He came over, staring at the snacks that were laid out, and your bag on the floor, shoulders only slumping further. “I’m sorry for interrupting whatever the two of you were doing.”

“We weren’t doing much. Yet.” Noah sighed, and you twisted to him, glaring for his joke, and he shrugged, biting the inside of his cheek and trying to keep a serious face. “Okay, fine, I’m sorry. You wanna’ watch movies, or something?”

“Yeah. That sounds nice.” He kicked off his shoes, leaving them abandoned by the coffee table, and he settled down between you both. Placing a cushion on your lap, you patted it, and he shot you a thankful look before moving to lay down. Resting his head against the cushion, his feet landed in his brother's lap. “Will you stay?”

“If you want me to.” You mumbled, nails scraping in feather-light patterns along his hairline.

As you stroked his hair gently, he began to relax a little further, and once he did, he began to spill. He was steady long enough to select a film, one of the Star Trek movies, surprisingly, and he sat silently, eating the snacks that you had purchased, for almost twenty minutes. After the food was finished, though, he broke.

The volume on the television was turned down and he was dominating the conversation, spilling everything that was weighing on his mind and heart. The problems came back to Derek, and the future between the two of them concerning the end of college. Derek had set plans that he’d always been planning on, and Stiles wanted to be more flexible, but neither was willing to budge. The conversation had never come up before, and now, with only a couple of short months left until the decision had to be made.

He admitted how nice it was to have you both here, the three of you sitting in companionable silence to follow his confessions about his relationship, and Noah stretched his arm out along the back of the couch towards you. It wasn’t the night that either of you had expected, and it wasn’t the most exciting, but it was enough. Your fingers wove with Noah’s sitting along the back of the cushion, and Stiles was mouthing along with the words on the screen as the movie came to an end.

It was cooler now, the sun having passed beyond the horizon, and you’d texted Lydia to let her know where you were as dusk was setting in. By the time that the credits were rolling, the man with his head in your lap had fallen asleep, snoozing softly with snores that were barely audible. Noah’s thumb was stroking over your hand, and he leaned over, empty wrappers crinkling as he moved, before the television was being switched off.

“So, that didn’t exactly go as planned.”

“It’s okay. Stiles needed us.” You shrugged, fingers weaving through the sleeping boy’s hair again, and his face had finally gone back to relaxed as he rested. “I should get going, though. It’s getting late. We can just rearrange.”

You yawned, covering your mouth as you did. Using the edges of the pillow, you lifted Stiles' head, enough to slip out from underneath him and you stood up. Your head had gone numb a while back, the pins and needles having passed and you shook your leg to try and wake it back up. Your butt was aching, making you wobble with each step you took, and Noah grinned as he followed your actions.

Grabbing the stray wrappers and putting them back into the paper bag, he reached for one of the spare blankets, tucking it over his brother and making sure he was secure.

“Why don’t we have breakfast together tomorrow morning?”

“I’d like that.” Your arms looped his waist, and his circled your shoulders, pulling you a little closer. “Where?”

“Here, if you stay over?” You studied him for a second, and his eyes widened, a pink colour coating his cheekbones. “Not with me. Not, y’know, I mean-” His blush only deepened, and you chuckled at him. “I just meant that you can stay in Stiles’ room. He won’t wake up until the morning now, anyway, and you’re tired. It’s dark and you shouldn't have to go home alone.”

You smiled, leaving him hanging in the suspense for a second longer, before putting him out of the suspenseful misery. “I think that would work just fine for me.”

“Good.” He smiled, lips brushing over your forehead, before he was straightening up. “Can you get the lights and the locks, I’ll go grab you something to wear.”

He stepped back, letting you do as told, as you moved around the room. Checking the door first, you flicked the catch on the door and double-checked it, before beginning to turn off all of the lamps. Stiles was snoring to himself and rolled over, facing the back of the cushions and clutching the blankets up to his chin. Pressing a kiss to the tips of two fingers, you smoothed it over your best friend’s forehead, mentally wishing him a quick recovery from his broken heart, before turning out the final light.

Noah was waiting in the hallway when you arrived, a pair of sweats, a t-shirt and a jumper in his hands, with a ball of socks on top, and he presented them to you, a shy smile on his face.

“I don’t think I’ll need all of that. It’s the summer.”

“Well, you know, I didn’t want you to get cold in the night, or anything. Now you have options.” You took them from him, tucking them under your arm, his hands went into his pockets. You were both lingering, the darkness only illuminating you both from the light on in his room that was spilling out around him. “Okay, well, goodnight then.”

“Goodnight, Noah.” Despite the words being spoken, neither of you moved, brown eyes with wide pupils sealed on you, searching you for some kind of reaction, and he swallowed thickly. His mouth opened, more words to come, before his jaw was snapping shut again, and his brows furrowed.

“Goodnight. Again, I guess.”

“Goodnight, Noah.” You smiled, humour in your voice again, and he took a minuscule step back from you before pausing again. Taking a step with him, your hand came up, the one not clutching clothes found his shoulder, and you pressed your lips against his in a simple peck. He let out a sound that made your heart flutter, leaning in to return the affection and he kissed you back slowly, before letting you sink to the ground and step away towards Stiles’ room. He watched you go, never moving until you were giving him a final smile, and closing Stiles’ bedroom door.

Resting your back against it once you were inside, you heard his bedroom door close too, and your heart was beating so fast you could feel it all the way to your fingertips. The day had been nothing like what you’d expected, a whirlwind adventure from start to finish, but you didn’t regret a thing.

#nogit-june #nogitjune #SITS #sun in the shadows #void stiles #void stiles au #void stiles x reader #void stiles/reader #void stiles teen wolf #dylan o'brien #dylan obrien x reader #dylan obrien/reader #dylan obrien #dylan obrien teen wolf #dylan obrien void stiles #stiles stilinski x reader #stiles stilinski/reader #stiles stilinski #void month

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babybluebex · 4 years

Text

buggy code [bucky barnes x reader]

➽ pairing: bucky barnes x fem!reader (y/n) ➽ word count: 4.1k ➽ summary: everyone on the team has nicknames, and you wonder why bucky doesn’t like the one you gave him. ➽ warnings: mentions of injuries, insecure bucky ➽ a/n: enjoy!

Everybody had a special name for the Winter Soldier. For mostly everyone, he was Bucky. It fit him; short and curt, the hard K sound in the middle demanding attention. Bucky didn’t quite care for any other name. He had lived his entire life being called Bucky and, even after waking up in a different world than the one he left, he didn’t think a name change was in order. Nobody did.

And then I came along. The nicknames started as a joke between me and Thor when I couldn’t pronounce his hammer’s name right (in my defense, the name starts with M-J-O and only gets worse from there). Jokingly, one day, I called it Mojo, and Thor laughed. I don’t think that Y/N is a particularly hard name, but Thor found a way to butcher it every single time he spoke to me. The joke bled out from Thor and me and into me and Tony, which then led to the whole team having their own name for me. Wanda called me “ducky”; Steve called me “little one”; Thor used every nickname for Y/N that he could find (which was different every day, but the theme was consistent); and Tony called me “kiddo”.

However, once the nickname precedent was set, nobody bothered to tell me about the Bucky situation. He was nice, albeit cold at times, and I had only seen him truly angry once. I had called him James. He got quiet and I saw a muscle in his jaw jump as he clenched his teeth, and he said, “Don’t ever call me that again. You hear me? Ever.” He absconded from the room quickly, leaving me and Steve alone, and my heart sank. I felt like an absolute shitbag for upsetting Bucky like that. Steve sat down next to me quietly. Steve was one of those quiet and understanding types, and he cast a glance at the door that Bucky had stormed out of.

“That was… Odd,” Steve said.

“You mean you don’t know what that was about?” I asked.

“No,” Steve said. His brow furrowed, and he mumbled, “No clue.”

“Should I apologize?” I asked.

“For what?” Steve asked, turning back to me. “You did nothing wrong.”

“I still upset him, even if I didn’t mean to,” I shrugged. “I… I dunno. I feel like I should.”

“If you want to,” Steve said. “He’ll probably get mad at you for trying to apologize.”

I scoffed. “What’s new? Bucky’s mad at everyone, all the time. I just… He never snapped at me like that before.”

“Don’t take it to heart,” Steve told me, and his icy blue eyes helped convince me.

The door to Bucky’s room was closed like always, but even the energy that came from it made me uneasy. It was quiet-- again, not abnormal-- but it frightened me. I hated saying sorry; according to some, it was one of my major character flaws. I felt sick to my stomach as I knocked on the door. Would he even answer? I felt the burning of tears in my eyes, and I pawed them away with the sleeve of my sweater just in time for the door to swing open. My breath caught in my throat once confronted by the White Wolf, and I could barely stutter out, “I… F-Fuck, I’m so sorry, Bucky.”

His jaw was tight, his eyes unwavering. I couldn’t stand when he did that. I understand where the whole “no emotion” thing came from, but it was infuriating sometimes. This wasn’t Russia. I wasn’t Hydra. Finally, Bucky took a deep breath, and his demeanor loosened up. “Don’t,” he said softly. “Don’t be… S’not your fault.”

“I still feel like an asshole,” I mumbled. “I was just joking around--”

“The way you do with Thor and Stark and all of them, I know,” Bucky interjected. “But you didn’t…” He paused to sigh, and he brushed his hair behind his ear. “You did nothing wrong, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart was new. Bucky didn’t play the nickname game like the rest of us did, as evident earlier. He called Steve brother every so often, usually whilst roughhousing after a mission, but sweetheart was something that he had never called me before. He must have seen how I bristled slightly, because he said, “Oh, so Wilson can call you sweetheart just fine, but I can’t?”

“That’s different,” I replied quickly.

“How?” Bucky countered instantly. He looked like he was only in his thirties, but he had the arguing skills of someone his own age. Fuck, he annoyed me. “How is Wilson any different from me?”

“That’s not--” I began. “Wilson always calls me that. You don’t call me… Anything.”

Bucky hummed quietly. “So, you’re telling me that, as long as I don’t call you what Wilson calls you, you’ll tolerate the nicknames?”

“That’s not what I meant, Bucky,” I said. “I meant that you never, ever had a nickname for me.”

“Maybe we should change that,” Bucky said, and his lips quirked into a smile. “We have a long night ahead of us. You should go try to get some rest… Baby.” With a cheeky wink and a smile, Bucky closed the door in my face.

Bastard.

Bucky was right. The night was long and ended with more of us limping back to the Compound than walking normally. Bucky and Steve took care of each other when they got banged up in a fight, and, as the youngest (really, second youngest to Peter, but he never normally came on smaller missions like this), Steve usually took it upon himself to take care of me too. My shoulder was killing me in a way that it never had before, and I wasn’t sure that it wasn’t dislocated in some fashion. I sat on the couch in the common area, nursing my arm and trying to ignore the pain enough to gauge if I was tired enough to attempt sleep, and I expected the sudden presence behind me to be that of the super soldier. “Hey, big guy,” I chuckled. “Can you check out my shoulder?”

A cold hand landed on my bare skin, and I jumped in shock. Vibranium was less than fun to experience when unprepared. I had identified a super soldier, yes, but the wrong one. “Looks swollen,” Bucky observed.

“No shit,” I mumbled. “You scared me; thought you were Steve.”

“Sorry,” Bucky said easily. “Yeah… I’m no medical expert, but, based on how swollen and red it is, I’d say you fucked your shoulder up pretty good.”

“Gee, really?” I said and rolled my neck to pop it. “Thanks for your input, Dr. Barnes. Can I get a second opinion?”

“Woah, hostile,” Bucky chuckled. “I’m sure Strange can fix that up for you, baby.”

I nodded in agreement, choosing to ignore the nickname. If I ignored it, it would go away… Right? Bucky noticed, though, and he said, “What? Not into that name? Okay, I’ll come up with something else.”

“Or don’t,” I shrugged absentmindedly, and I hissed in a breath as my shoulder exploded with pain. Definitely dislocated. “Fuck.”

“Oh, jeez,” Bucky mumbled, and he moved around in front of me. He lowered himself to my height where I sat, settling himself on one knee, and his warm hand landed gently on my arm. “I learned about this a long time ago… I think I remember how to put it back into the socket.”

“I’m sorry, but fuck that,” I laughed. “I’ll get Strange to do it.”

“If I mess you up even more, I give you permission to yell at me,” Bucky said. “Let me try. Yeah?”

I sighed, rolling my eyes. “Fine,” I acquiesced.

Bucky shuffled himself closer to me, putting gentle but firm hands on my upper arm. He sat there for a moment, something happening in his brain, before saying, “C’mere, you.” His hands fell down to my waist, and he carefully tugged me further to the edge of the couch to allow himself closer to me. Something bloomed in my stomach when he grabbed my waist like that, but I pushed it aside. This was neither the time nor place to get horny. He replaced his hands on my arm, and the tip of his tongue poked out of his lips as he carefully maneuvered my arm, testing its mobility. He noticed my winces of my pain, and he finally mumbled, “Alright. On three, I’m gonna tug your arm this way. There’ll be a pop and it’ll hurt, but it should be back in place. Alright?”

“Yeah,” I said. I felt like I would pass out from the pain. “Hurry it up.”

Bucky nodded, and his vibranium hand carefully squeezed my thigh. “Grab my hand if you need to,” he said. “Alright… One--”

He tugged my arm sharply away from my body, and there was a sickening pop. I cried out in a mixture of shock and pain, and then a tepid anger. “You said three, you shitbag!” I groaned. “What happened to two and three?”

“Must’ve miscounted,” Bucky said, smiling and chuckling. “Feel any better?”

I rolled my shoulder hesitantly, but found there to be virtually no pain. There was an ache, sure, and maybe a torn muscle, but the joint seemed to be back where it belonged. “Yeah,” I said. “A lot, actually. Thanks.”

“No sweat,” Bucky said. He smiled and chuckled, then added, “You said my name when you yelled.”

I tried to recall only seconds earlier, but the moment was a blur. “Did I?” I ask. That was embarrassing.

Bucky nodded. “You called out ‘James’,” he told me.

My eyes widened, and my heart jumped into my throat. “Oh, fuck,” I mumbled. “Oh, shit. Bucky, I’m really sorry.”

“No, no,” Bucky said. “It’s fine. Don’t stress. I actually don’t mind it.”

“Mind what?” I asked.

“Being called James,” Bucky said. “It’s been a while since I was called anything but Bucky or the Winter Soldier or… James’s nice. Short and sweet and… Nice.”

“Why did you…” I began, and I pressed my fingers into my palm. “Why did you get so angry when I called you that earlier?”

Bucky sighed. It was a heavy sigh, the sigh of 90 years worth of emotions threatening to be released. “I… I don’t know,” he said finally. “I really have no idea. I guess because it was different. It was like my old life. You were trying to be nice and funny, and nobody…” He swallowed thickly, and his gaze dropped from mine. “Everybody still sees me as the Winter Soldier. Like, they think I’ll break at any minute, and Bucky will be gone. Nat and Wilson and Steve can tell you all about dealing with him, if you want to know about it. But you don’t see me like that. You see me as someone kind; even before the war, I was never really the kind type. You see me as someone different than what everybody here-- everybody, period-- sees me as. You don’t see me as Bucky or Sergeant Barnes or whoever. You see me as--”

“James.” I whispered.

“I’m not used to people like you,” Bucky continued. “I… I think I was confused. And I get mad when I’m confused. I’ve always done that. I didn’t--”

“James,” I repeated, firmer and louder. I wasn’t testing the name. I was addressing him. My hand went to his face, resting gently under his jaw, and I tilted his head up to look at me. “Don’t. I understand.”

Bucky gave me a small smile, the most he could muster when he wasn’t telling a god-awful joke, but he didn’t try to remove my hand. His eyes, as blue as the sky on a clear day, were watching me. Not watching; I had seen him watch someone. There was something more in his gaze that I couldn’t quite identify, and it scared the shit out of me. It was friendly, I could sense that, and I had a suspicion on what it was, but I didn’t want to know for sure. Eventually, I took a deep breath, and I took my hand off of his face. “You should get some sleep,” I told him. “You need it.”

“Right,” Bucky nodded. “You do too. Come get me if that shoulder starts bothering you; I’ll see what I can do.”

“Sure,” I agreed. “‘Night, James.”

There was a silence before the super soldier responded to me. “‘Night, bug.”

“Bug?” I scoffed.

Bucky shrugged. “Just trying something out.”

I nodded and kept my place on the couch as Bucky worked himself to his feet, and he left the room quietly. I watched him leave and I pressed my palms into my knees before I started to stand. However, my endeavor was interrupted by Steve hitting his knuckles against the doorframe. He certainly had heard our conversation. His arms were crossed and he was giving me a strange look, and I huffed in frustration. “What do you want, Rogers?”

“Buck had a girlfriend he left behind when we went to war,” Steve began. “Always talked about wanting to marry her when he got back.”

“And?”

Steve smiled. “She used to call him James. Never Bucky; James. I’m sure that’s why he got mad.”

“Oh,” I mumbled lowley. “I had no idea.”

“I didn’t either, until recently,” Steve said. “But guess what? He called her ‘ladybug’. ‘Bug’ for short.”

As much as I hated to admit it, I needed help. I tossed and turned in bed for hours, trying to find a comfortable position to sleep in that didn’t aggravate my shoulder too much, but, just as I was always about to drift to sleep, a spasm of pain woke me up. I had taken painkillers hours before and I was tempted to take more-- the kind that brought sleep this time-- but I remembered what Bucky had told me. Come get him if I needed help. I truly didn’t want to take him up on that offer, but I was sure that he was awake. I probably wouldn’t be bothering him. I hoped not.

I zipped up my hoodie as I carefully maneuvered through the Compound, trying to move quietly. Years of training under Nat’s tutelage had taught me how to be as silent as a ghost, but I was always worried that I would fuck up somehow. We were safe, though, and I had no reason to be on high alert. Finally, I wound up in front of Bucky’s door, and I saw the door cracked open. Bucky was the sort of guy that valued privacy, and he always had his door closed unless he wasn’t in the room.

“Oh.” A voice rumbled from behind me, and I turned to see Bucky. His hair was rumpled, his eyes tired and hooded. He wore sweatpants and a thin white shirt, the bulge of his dog tags visible under the collar. I heard the soft whirring of his arm in the silence of the hall, and he added, “There you are. You weren’t in your room.”

“Were you looking for me?” I asked.

“I was going to see how your shoulder was,” Bucky explained. “It’s been bothering me all night.”

“Been bothering you?” I repeated and stifled a laugh. “It’s been hell for me. I can’t sleep at all.”

“You took meds?” Bucky asked, and I nodded. He moved closer to me, and he added, “Drank some water? You might be dehydrated.”

“I’m fine, James,” I mumbled. “I just figured that you would be up too. My head’s still buzzing from tonight. Even without the shoulder, I don’t think I could sleep.”

I didn’t even realize that I had called him James. It felt natural now. “Well, I am awake,” Bucky chuckled. “I’m not gonna sleep tonight either. We’re about an hour from sunrise anyway; that’s sorta a foregone thing now, huh?”

I nodded. Bucky’s eyes canvased me, sticking to my shoulder and arm, and he mumbled, “Your one arm’s limp. Is it just your shoulder or your whole arm now?”

I looked at my arm, hanging at my side as my other was in my pocket. I could feel the shooting pain every time I moved it, but, when it was still, it was a dull throb of sorts. I relayed this to Bucky, and the wrinkles in his forehead grew deeper as he listened. He wordlessly took my uninjured arm in his warm grip and tugged me into his room. A single lamp was on, the curtains drawn and the bed made impeccably, as if he had never even touched it. I’m sure the tidiness was a result of his military training; Steve and Wilson were the same way. “I read something,” Bucky began. “About skin-to-skin contact. How it helps relieve pain and improve heart and lung function.”

I scoffed as I sat on the corner of his bed. “Yeah, for newborn babies,” I told him.

Bucky sighed jokingly. “Do you want my help or not, bug?”

Bug. Ladybug. “I didn’t really come for help,” I said. “Just company.”

“Just company,” Bucky repeated under his breath as he sat down next to me. “I can do that.”

“Can you?” I asked with a smirk. “Are you sure?”

“I’m not totally inept, Y/N,” Bucky said. “I can make conversation.”

“I know,” I sighed lightly. “Just teasing you.”

“You tease me so much that one would think that you don’t actually like me,” Bucky said.

I rolled my eyes. “Of course I like you,” I said. “Sometimes, I don’t think you like me.”

“Yeah, don’t take it personal,” Bucky said softly. “I sorta turn a lot of people off. The whole murderous, brainwashed soldier thing tends to do that.”

“That’s a shame,” I said. “You’re actually a pretty cool person.”

“Even when I’m killing people?” Bucky asked with a chuckle.

“Especially then,” I said, playfully pushing his shoulder. “Not too many girls are into that, but I’m in the same business, so I like it.”

“Into it?” Bucky repeated with a smile. “Like… In what way?”

“I think it’s cool,” I said. I knew what he was pushing for, and I guess that I was giving off that impression, coming into his room in the early morning for “company”. I had meant it in earnest, but, now that I thought about it, it certainly sounded like I had come to fuck him. “Not the whole… Being tortured, but… I admire that you’ve turned this into something that can help people.”

“That’s why I’m here,” Bucky said. “To help people…”

I saw his humor deflating. There was more he wanted to say, far more. If I knew Bucky, though, he was fit to clam up, and the conversation was about over. “You are helping people, Buck,” I offered. “Keeping them safe, protecting them…”

“Protection can only get you so far,” Bucky said, standing up and rolling his neck. “Y/N, when you’re like me, you’re never sure if you’re really helping. People tell me that I am, but I’ll never be certain. It’s a fucking curse, one that I haven’t turned it into anything good.” He swallowed thickly, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat.

“Well,” I began softly, standing up. I joined Bucky at the window and carefully took his hand, and I examined the metallic knuckles and the different slants of vibranium that made up each finger. I thought he would pull his hand away, tell me to stop, but his hand only whirred quietly and closed around mine. “Let me be the one to tell you that you are helping people. Like tonight, not only did you take down all of those goons, but you helped me.”

“What help did I do?” Bucky scoffed.

“I mean, it’s not fully healed, but you made my shoulder better,” I said. “Bucky--” I reached up for his face and pressed my hand to his rough cheek, and I forced his head down. His steel-blue eyes met mine, and I took a deep breath. “You are good. You are a good man and I will do whatever you need me to in order for you to believe that.”

Bucky was quiet for a few long moments, then he finally whispered, “You don’t need to do anything.”

“So you believe me?” I asked.

“I didn’t say that,” Bucky whispered. “You don’t want to help me.”

“Why not?” I huffed, dropping my hand. “Do you think you’re too far gone?”

“I don’t think it,” Bucky said. “I know it.”

“James,” I said, my emotions biting through my words. My eyes stung and my throat was tight, and I knew that I was seconds away from crying. “You are not too far gone. You know how I know?” I surged closer to him and put my hand flat on his chest to feel his heartbeat, and I said, “You’re alive. As long as you’re alive, you can get better. Stop being stubborn--”

“I’m stubborn?” Bucky laughed. “You’re so convinced that you can fix me that you won’t take no for an answer.”

“I don’t want to fix you,” I said quickly. “I want you to know that-- Fuck. Look at me, you prick.” Bucky fixed his eyes on my face, and I put my palms on his cheeks. He couldn’t look away. “James Buchanan Barnes, you are a good man. You help people. You are magnificent. I know it, everyone here knows it, and I will not rest until you see yourself the way I see you.”

The air between us was tense, and Bucky lifted a hand up to his face. He enveloped my small hand with his, his warm fingers carefully brushing mine, almost like he couldn’t believe that someone was holding his face so tenderly. He lowered his eyes, then lifted them back up to meet me, and he dropped his hands.

With that, his entire body language changed. The wrinkles in his forehead disappeared, his shoulders fell, and he let out a heavy breath. His bottom lip fell open as he looked at me, and I whispered, “Do you feel better?”

He nodded slowly, a lock of dark hair falling into his eyes. “I like the way you say my name,” he told me. I gently pushed the hair from his face to behind his ear, and he swallowed thickly. “Say it again. Please?”

“James,” I said softly. “Buchanan. Barnes.” I took a deep breath, and I quietly laughed, “Bucky Barnes. You are the greatest man I’ve ever met.”

Bucky put his hands on my waist and pulled me flush against my body, and he hugged me tightly. His mouth buried into my shoulder, and he held me for what felt like hours. He needed it. My tears finally fell, and I sniffled as I wrapped my arms around his muscled body in order to squeeze him tightly. “Are you crying?” Bucky whispered, his lips hitting my shoulder as he spoke.

“I just…” I began. “I love you, James.”

I didn’t know what to expect when I finally confessed to Bucky what I had tried to deny, but he stayed still. He barely had a reaction, unless you count a sigh as a reaction. Finally, just as I thought my anxiety would burn a hole through my stomach, his hands fell down my body, skating just above my hips and down to the backs of my thighs. With the strength of a thousand men, he pulled me up into him, wrapping my legs around his waist, and he pulled his face out of my shoulder to let me see his pink cheeks and radiant eyes. He said nothing as his lips pressed against mine, and I instantly kissed back. My Bucky, my soldier, my love, my James. The world felt right.

“I love you too,” Bucky whispered. “Y/N.”

“Did you really…” I started. “Do you call me ‘bug’ because… Because of ladybug?”

Bucky tilted his head as a soft smile came over his pink lips. “Did Steve tell you that?” He asked. I nodded, and he gave a little laugh that rumbled in his broad chest. He carried me to the bed and set me down carefully, and he laid down next to me. My head easily laid on his chest and his strong arm went around my body, holding me close to him. There wasn’t even an inch of space between us, but I loved it. “Yes and no. I got the idea from that, but it means something different. That girl back then, her name was Dot, so ladybug made sense… But you’re a different kind of bug. You’re a bug in the sense that you’re not supposed to be here.” He carefully tapped his forehead, and he closed his eyes as my finger replaced his. “You’re a bug in my code. I didn’t want to fall in love after everything I’ve done, but… Fuck, you managed to get in there.”

“Glad I did,” I whispered, placing a kiss on his forehead. “My James.”

“I’m glad you did too,” Bucky whispered. “My little bug.”

#bucky barnes #sebastian stan #marvel #avengers #mcu #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fluff #sebastian stan angst #sebastian stan fluff

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please-buckme · 3 years

Text

A Broken Heart.

Lee Bodecker x fem!reader

Chapter 2

Chapter warnings: 18+ mentions of death, mentions of sex, cursing, Lee being an ass, angst, meninist behaviors

Chapter summary: You move back home after three years to find your heart still in shambles.

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Chapter 1 // Chapter 3

3 Years Later

After moving a whole county away, Highland Ohio to be exact, you stayed for quite some time. Your aunt was amazing and the sweetest woman you’d ever known, and living with her was a breeze. She’d even gotten you a job at the auto shop her recently deceased husband left to her, which you loved. Life was good, for a while. You never had a reason to come home until your momma got sick.

For the past year you watched as your momma slowly faded away until the last week of April when she finally passed in her sleep. You were devastated, of course, but not only because of her death. She didn’t have much to her name besides a couple thousand in the bank and the house you’d left so long ago, which she left all to you.

The house was old. White paneling a faint tint of brown, grey shutters that were almost all off their hinges and rust anywhere you looked. It was a fixer upper and there’s no way you could sell it in its current condition. So, you decided to move back to Knockemstiff, just for the time being.

In all honesty, you’d grown to hate that town. Nothing but bad memories and any good memories you’d had were tarnished completely. So, once the house was decent enough to sell, you were out of there and back to the life you’d created in Highland.

Your aunt and you drove together in her pick up truck back to the house after your momma passed. She helped you unload your stuff and take things to the necessary rooms.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to stay? I can make my famous pancakes. I know you love’em.” She grinned.

“As tempting as that sounds, I’m fine. Please, I insist you go now before it gets dark.” You pull your aunt into a hug, a tight hug.

“I’m gonna miss havin’ you around, kiddo.” She sighed, her breath fanning over your neck.

“It’s only for a few months. I’ll be back to annoying you in no time, oldie.”

“Hey, I’m not old.” She laughed and pointed her finger at you sternly but still in a lighthearted way.

“And I’m not a kid.”

She laughed a little more then sighed, “Well, I guess I’ll head out. Call me if you need anything and don’t forget to go down to Billy’s tomorrow. He’s excited to bring you in.”

You smiled, “How could I forget? I need some sort of income to fix this craphole up.”

You walked your aunt to her car and waved her goodbye as she drove way. Your eyes welled up but you made sure not to cry in front of her or she’d never leave.

Once you went back in, you immediately got to work. Starting in the kitchen, you didn’t have much but a few coffee cups. The house was still occupied with your momma’s things and you were already dreading having to go through it all.

Things started to come together room by room as you worked most of the day away. You cleaned and rearranged things to your liking now that it was your house. It felt almost empowering to do what you want. You’d never lived alone so, in a way, this was an adventure as well.

You took your old room instead of the master, since that’s where your momma passed. It gave you goosebumps just thinking about and you knew you’d never get any sleep if you stayed in there. Your room wasn’t big but it was good enough for now and much better than sleeping in your momma’s death bed, hard pass.

You’d taken a seat on the couch with some tea you’d brewed up earlier that morning. This was the first time you sat down since arriving, and of course there’s a knock at the door.

“Whatever you’re selling, I promise you, I ain’t interested.” You shout, too exhausted to even attempt getting up.

The knocking continued, “Oh, for fucks sake.” You groaned under your breath and stood on your aching feet to tell them to fuck off in person. You opened the door, “did you not hear me the first time. I said-“

“Hi, Y/n” Lee greeted as he removed his hat.

You scoffed, “Can I help you with somethin’, Sheriff?”

Lee stood there, fiddling with the bill of his hat. His belly had gotten a little bigger and his cheeks had gotten a little chubbier, but you couldn’t help the hitch in your throat when his wedding ring caught your eye. Just a basic silver band, nothing special. But it still left a hollow pit in your stomach.

“I-“ he cleared his suddenly dry throat. “I heard you was back in town. Thought I’d come see for ma self if the rumors were true.”

“Welp, here I am. You can go now.”

“Y/n, I-“

“No, Lee, please. I’ve had a long day and I honestly don’t feel like talking to you right now. No, I take that back. I don’t feel like talking to you at all.”

“That’s a bit harsh, don’t you think, doll.” He grins.

“Goodbye, Sheriff.” You shut the door only to hear him holler at you from the other side.

“Still can’t say my name, huh, Doll? Boy, I really did a number on you, didn’t I?” Your heart sank at his words. It seemed your pain was a joke to him this whole time. You’d always pictured him crying alone like you were but clearly that was never the case. Y’all’s relationship didn’t seem one sided until you were the only one hurt by the fall out.

“Welcome home, Y/n.” He said before you heard his boots click against the porch as he left.

You took a deep breath as you backed away from the door. Tears rimmed your eyes and you scoffed aloud to yourself. After three years you still weren’t over him and you knew that. You didn’t know, however, that he’d still have such a hold on you. And by the way he reacted to how sensitive you were towards the situation still didn’t help the ever growing void that ran through your entire loveless body. The only man you ever loved looked at you as if you were a quick fuck and a punchline.

A tear burned against your cheek and you were quick to wipe it away. You swore to yourself that you’d never cry over that man again and you won’t, instead you decided it was time for a much needed bath.

The bath was scolding hot, just how you liked it, and you opened up a bottle of wine as a sort of reward for the work you’d done today. Once the water got cold and the wine ran out, you brushed your hand and teeth and went to bed.

The sun beamed down against your skin as you walked to the local auto shop where your aunt had set you up with another job. You were always good with numbers and they desperately needed someone on the books. Your job would be to look at their spending over the last few months and figure out some sort of budget. You did that for your aunt at her shop, so this didn’t worry you at all.

“Hi, you must be Billy.” You greet the owner, “I’m

y/n, Peggy’s niece.”

“Oh, yes. I’m glad you finally made it down.” He beamed, shaking your hand, “How long will you be here for?”

“I’m not sure, actually. Just until I get my house fixed up enough to sell.” You say, retracting your hand from his sweaty one.

“Ah, well as luck would have it, our secretary just quit on us last week, so there’s a position you’ll adjust to right fine.”

You scoffed, “Wait a minute. Did you say secretary?”

“Yeah. You need to get your hearing checked, Honey?” He grinned. What is it with the men in this town?!

“No, I heard you just fine. My problem is that I was supposed to be your Budget Holder, not a damn secretary.” Your face was turning a touch of pink as you became increasingly annoyed.

“That’s a man's job, sweetie. We don’t you blown a fuse tryin’ ta add up all them numbers, now do we?”

“You can’t be serious.” You say flatly.

“Look, it’s the only position we got. Take it or leave it.”

Everything in you wanted to March out of that shop and never go back again. A secretary's position is nothing to frown upon, but to only be offered it because you’re a woman was despicable. Sadly, you needed this job and it would only be for a few months. So, when you told him you’d take the job you swallowed every ounce of respect you had for yourself. Knockemstiff was truly the worst town in America.

“Sounds great. We’ll see you tomorrow for training. There’s no dress code but there are a few things you’ll need to know before starting. I’ll fill you in once we start your training tomorrow.” He shook your hand again, completely ignoring the furious grimace on your face.

“Great. See you tomorrow.” You mumbled, walking away so you didn’t ‘accidentally’ hit your new boss.

Before heading home you decided to stop and grab some things for the house. Being sick, your momma didn’t eat much besides soup, and there was an over abundance of vanilla flavored Ovaltine cans littering the kitchen counters, which you hated.

The second the doors opened, all eyes were on you. You even heard a faint gasp coming from the woman at the register. A smirk crept upon your face. These people's lives were so boring that they still aren’t over your breakup that happened so long ago. Rolling your eyes, you grabbed a cart and headed down the produce aisle.

Once you grabbed the vegetables you’d need for a stew, you headed towards the baking aisle. You need the ingredients for an upside down pineapple cake your momma used to make for you as a kid. Your aunt was coming into town on Saturday to lend a hand and celebrate her birthday. You told her to go have fun, but she insisted on spending her special day with you.

As you searched for the baking soda, you heard your name.

“Did you see Y/n’s back in town?” A lady with a high pitched voice whispered.

“I did. I just saw her. Poor thing. She’s probably still caught up on the sheriff. Prolly wish it was her that was on his arm instead of Laura-Jean.”

You rolled your eyes.

“I know it. Wouldn’t you, though? He’s so handsome.” The lady with the high patched voice giggled.

“Oh, hush! Don’t say things like that.” The other lady joined the high pitched one in whispered giggles. “Oh my goodness, here he comes.” She cleared her throat, “Afternoon, Sheriff.”

“Evenin’,Ladies. Y’all behavin’ yourselves?” You could hear the smirk in his voice.

They both giggled and in unison said, “Yes, Sheriff.”

“Oh give me a break.” You grimaced to yourself.

“Heard Y/n’s back in town.” The high pitched one spoke up. Your face burned. Why would they bring you up to him so bluntly like that? Everyone in this town was so unbelievably nosy.

“I- I heard. Actually just went to see her yesterday.” He said, clearing his throat.

“Uh-oh, the misses didn’t like that, I’m sure.” They giggled.

“Oh, no. She didn’t mind. I was just droppin’ by to give her my condolences about her momma dyin’. Then, she slammed the door in my face. I guess she’s still pretty upset with me.” He was pouting, trying to get some sort of sympathy. If you rolled your eyes any harder you thought they’d pop out of your head.

“Oh, you poor thing. Is there anything we can-“

Suddenly the baking soda slipped from your hand and scattered all other the floor in a puff of dust. “Shit, shit, shit.” You whispered to yourself.

“What was that?” One of the ladies asked.

“Excuse me, ladies.” Lee said. You could hear his boots clacking against the floor on there way over to you.

Shit.

You desperately wanted to run away but leaving this mess for someone to clean up wasn’t right, not even with the predicament you found yourself in. “Well, well, well,” Lee mocked as he rounded the corner. “Only here for less than a day and you’re already causin’ trouble.”

“Stay out of this, Bodecker.” You huff, trying to scoop the baking soda back into the card box it spilled from.

“Was you eavesdroppin’, girl?” He asked, kicking the soul of your shoe.

You scoffed, “Oh, please. I could give two shits what you say about me, Bodecker.”

He leaned in close, hovering over your left side. You heard him chuckle which startled you. He was so close. You could feel the familiar heat radiating from his body and smell that familiar cologne. His lips came down close to your ear. He licked them and then whispered, “If ya weren’t eavesdroppin’, how’d ya know I was talkin’ bout you, hm?”

Your eyes shuttered closed as he spoke, feeling his hot breath against your cheek. His deep southern drawl always made you weak. It took you back to those times in the back of the cruiser. He whispered such dirty praises in your ear when you would ride his cock. Those dirty words that could make you cum in seconds.

“You still with me, doll?” You felt him tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear.

You flitched and stood up, “I- don’t touch me and stop calling me doll, alright? I really don’t have time for your games today, sheriff, and I’m not even really sure what you’re playin’ at in the first place.”

He smirked, running a thumb across his lip, “Darlin, I think the only thing I ever played was you..”

“I-“ your breath hitched in the back of your throat, “I have to go.” You turned to walk away, leaving the mess you’d made and your cart behind. Your eyes welled up with tears again. You didn’t know the man that stood in front of you. Lee was nothing but good to you when you dated and now he’s the most hateful man you’d ever met. The man you loved had disappeared and there’s nothing you could do to bring him back, no matter how bad you wanted to. A tear stained your cheek as you sped through the aisle. You could hear Lee hollering for you to stop but you wouldn’t this time.

All the heartbreak and sorrow that you’d left behind was creeping its way back in. The sooner you sold the house and got the hell out of there, the better.

Dividers by: @firefly-in-darkness

Taglist: @haydens-moles , @c00lkidvibes , @tcc-gizmachine , @buckysm3talarm , @gogolucky13 , @cryptidcasanova , @heavenlyseb , @writersbuck , @teddy-bearbaby , @bbmommy0902 , @sweetllamaparadise , @thereblogcrusader , @aleemendoza2425-blog , @frostbytebaby , @jessyballet , @emotionallyandphysicallydone , @sarge-barnes-sir , @generalbagelcookieslime , @lady-loki-ren , @dime-piece-xo , @greeneyedblondie44

(Dm me to be added to taglist)

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mammons-tax-returns · 3 years

Text

comforting you about your body insecurities pt. 1

beelzebub, mammon, lucifer

:) ! first post back!! (rest of the brothers coming later)

🧋MALE MC🧋

Lucifer is a very attentive demon, despite being busy with his nose shoved in a stack of papers around the clock

He really does find you wonderful, both just to relax with and to admire.

And he’s known that you piqued his interest ever since you appeared before him in the stuco room. And this is LUCIFER. He normally doesn’t give any human a second glance. Unless ur some powerful and dangerously talented sorcerer with white hair 🤧but that aside

Tonight, he gets a break from Diavolo’s workload because there is yet another ball being held at the castle.

He sprays a faint but expensive cologne on his skin, quietly hoping that you would like and comment on it so he could respond with some flirty line. That would be nice, he thinks.

Then, he’s taking long strides leading out of his bedroom, and heading over to yours beside the kitchen, where he hears his siblings bickering over the best fruit.

He knocks on the door first, waiting for a response that never comes. He only hears your favorite song from within.

He calls your name, only becoming more confused the longer the silence grows

When he pushes open the door, he’s nearly relieved to see you standing in front of the body mirror, fixing the the collar of your outfit. You turn to look at him offer a smile. “Hey, Luci. You’re punctual, as usual.”

He hums under his breath in response. A silent “i know”. He pads over to you, placing a hand on your hip affectionately. “You look good enough to eat, handsome. Asmodeus may have his moments but he certainly knows how to dress anyone with anything.”

You look at your own eyes in the reflection, not able to respond entirely. Lucifer means well, you’re sure of it. He doesn’t know that the past hour of preparation for the ball was spent scowling at the parts of you that you could never quite enjoy entirely.

Lucifer looks questioningly at your expression from the mirror. “y/n? Is something the matter?”

At that, you snap back to reality and look back at him. “Huh? Oh... Right— Sorry, I just,” you trail off, at a loss for words. Was this the right time to mention your thoughts, before a ball? “It’s nothing, just lost in my thoughts, I suppose.”

Lucifer’s eyebrows knit in the way that they tend to do when he worries. “Mind sharing? I’d love to sit and listen.” His hands slide around your waist until he’s hugging you, and you catch a whiff of his cologne which makes you melt. Once again you wonder if this relationship was something you deserved.

“Luci...”

“Don’t give me that, lovely. I said I’d like to listen, no?” As you turn your head away, he takes the opportunity to rest his head on the crook of your neck.

You sigh, smiling hopelessly. You hate to admit it, but his response makes you feel jittery on the inside. “It’s silly really, I just wasn’t feeling myself just now. The clothes are amazing! But...” You know exactly what you’ll say next, but the words feel venomous in your mouth. “I’m wondering if Asmodeus understands how wasteful it is to put them on me, you know?”

Lucifer is at a loss, and his heart aches at your words. “Oh dear... Well that’s no good. I can’t have my gorgeous lover worrying himself over something that’s so far from the truth.”

You are already aware that Lucifer will always support you no matter what, and the thought is both heart warming and bothersome. “Yeah, yeah, Lucifer... I’ve heard it all alr-“

“Then what do you not understand?” Lucifer cuts you off promptly and confidently. “Do you really believe that I’d sugarcoat this? Anything?”

You swallow thickly. “N-... No. You wouldn’t...”

“Good. That’s a good response.” He places a sweet kiss on your cheek, ruby eyes flitting up to your own gaze in the mirror. “I’m almost afraid of other demons trying to steal you away in such a dashing outfit, to be honest. Enjoy yourself, but if any of my brothers try anything, I swear...”

You laugh a little, running a free hand through his hair and noting how he almost sinks into your touch. Almost like a cat. “Thank you, Lucifer. For everything.”

Lucifer kisses your hand softly. “You are perfection, darling.”

You look forward to slow dancing alongside the eldest brother now, losing yourself in the music. Lucifer was right, there was really nothing to worry yourself over.

Mammon, unfortunately, had to cancel date night plans for the weekend for a modeling gig.

You were disappointed, but not mad at him. He told you in advance, offered to make up for it, and usually tries his best to uphold his promises.

He offers to bring you with him, guilty at the thought of your alone in your room.

You don’t know whether to accept it or not. Would you fit in on a set full of gorgeous, picture-perfect demons?

Mammon has his hand on the back of his neck, nervous that you’re too angry at him to want to say yes.

To his delight, you smile and agree to go with him. Maybe, this way, he can avoid others flirting with him when they know that his boyfriend would be in the room.

At first, it makes you feel a little bit happier seeing Mammon light up with joy after seeing him pout like a puppy moments ago.

The day has come that you step onto the modeling floor. The photographers and staff know you well due to Mammon’s insistent bragging about you and your relationship. Clutching your D.D.D. anxiously, you make your way over to Mammon, who is already posing for a camera under bright studio lights.

You keep to the shadows as you watch him intently. Mammon is well known for his idiocy, but he is one handsome devil.

The evil snickering of two demons sound behind you, to which you ignore. You were too nervous to actually move, anyways.

Whatever... It doesn’t concern me... Right?

The giggles don’t stop, and you can’t help but listen in on their whispers. It sounds as if they purposely spoke louder than normal just to bother you.

“Look at how his eyes are shining... Obsessed with Mammon, much?” Oh boy. It really seems like they’re talking about...

“Let’s talk about those clothes, though... Are you kidding me... Does the human world really have that low of standards— or is this the bottom of the barrel.” At that, the two burst into a fit of cackles.

Luckily, a photographer hisses at them, irritated with the noise breaking his concentration. They quiet down, but continue to berate you in ways you had never even considered.

You’re sweating bullets now, itching to use your hand to wipe the oncoming tears of embarrassment. You blink them away, and don’t notice that your boyfriend is now finished with his shoot.

You tense upon seeing him speaking to the camera tech. Your heart nearly jumps out of your throat. The last thing you needed was him seeing you cry right now. He’d be worried sick.

Not even bothering to excuse yourself, you slip into the bathroom and can only focus on the laughter of the other demons behind you. The sound causes you to shake slightly as you shut the door behind you.

There is more than one stall, so you briefly worry that someone would come in and find you bawling your eyes out in the middle of a semi-professional setting. You sigh heavily and turn the sink on to wash your face.

The more you stood in front of the sink rubbing your face, the more vividly you remember the rude comments made about you. Could they have been true?

With a troubled look, you sneak a glance at yourself in the mirror.

You didn’t think that your clothes were particularly “bad”... They said so much, and it’s all coming back like a vicious and cruel tsunami.

No matter what you do, you can’t seem to stop crying.

“Oh y/n!!~ Where are ya’ at?” Mammon crashes through the door, hands on his hip with a toothy and closed-eye grin.

Thinking quickly, you reach over to grab a hand towel and press your face into it. “H-Hey, Mammon, you looked good out there...”

Mammon must have picked up on your wavering tone, because he pauses.

You’re frozen on the spot when he places a hand on your shoulder, although you can’t see him through the towel.

“Uhh... What’s up with you? Don’t tell me that you’re...” It’s too late to react when he pushes the towel aside to find your teary eyes.

“Wh-What?!” His heart drops immediately. “What’s wrong babe?! Are you like... I dunno hurt or something?!”

You exhale shakily, still trying to calm yourself. “Those models out there are just... A little too honest about me, I s-suppose... But it’s really fine. I just... I don’t know... I guess I just needed a minute to... Freak out a little?”

“Honest? What the hell do you—“ A sudden feeling of recognition pulled at his features. Truth be told, he knew those demons personally, having worked with them before. Then the guilt of knowing exactly what happened began to eat away at him. “Oh...”

You shifted, wishing that he would drop the subject. This was getting much too embarrassing to bear, and the way his eyes drooped with sadness made your stomach churn. “Mammon. I-I’m serious, I’m okay—“

Mammon’s arms surround you like a sturdy, calming veil.

“I know you’re not, y/n!” Mammon had no desire to listen to you pretend to act unbothered. “I don’t know what they’ve told you, but I can guarantee that I have been given comments just as bad as those- and I’m The Mammon.”

You grip onto his shirt, avoiding making eye contact with him. “But... That’s the thing Mammon. I’m not nearly as confident or perfect as you.”

Mammon holds you tighter, voice softening drastically. “Don’t you think that’s exactly what I think of you when you comfort me on my bad days?”

A pool of warmth starts to seep from the depths of your chest. And your furrowed brows start to relax. “Really..? You mean it?”

“y/n, you are precious to me, and all of my crazy ass brothers. And there is no way in hell that I’ll allow some scum of the world get in the way of realizing how flawless you are.”

Beel wants nothing more than to spend every second of the day with you. And Belphie.

But unfortunately, most of his time is spent in the gym, if not the kitchen.

So he asks you if you would like to start working out with him at the gym, or even if you were just interested in hanging around and nothing more. He just wanted your presence.

The idea itself made your heart swell. But after a bit of thinking, you weren’t so sure. You’ve never been to a gym in Devildom before, but you were sure it wasn’t very different from human gyms.

It would be filled with confident and toned bodies that would put you down without even trying.

And as much as you wanted to be there with Beel, you weren’t ready for the prospect of the nasty looks you’d receive sitting beside the sixth-born who is a perfectly sculpted athlete.

After all, he seemed a bit too good for you, as it seemed in your head.

Beel wonders why you turned him down. Had he done something to upset you?

He’d have to get down to the bottom of it, lest he regret ignoring your behavior.

To do this, he takes a day off from the gym, thinking that the answer to this situation would be to spend time together. Smiling to himself, he clutches a bag of sweets to his chest.

y/n has got to love this, he thinks excitedly.

Knocking once, he can barely keep himself from barging in and tearing into his baked goodies. “y/n, I’m here. Wanna share these cookies with me? There’s also pound cake and cupcakes... The mini ones with enchanted apples on them.”

His smile falls a little when there’s a long note of silence. “y/n?” He questions.

“Oh! Uh... Sorry, Beel... Maybe another day. I’m studying for that final right now.” Beel knows you sound sincere, but something about this response seems off.

His heart sinks a little, feeling a little embarrassed after being rejected. He hadn’t expected this.

“Ah... Are you sure?”

“...”

There’s a silence from the other side of the door, and the sixth born starts to genuinely worry.

Truth be told, you had been weeping alone looking through images of famous demon athletes that advertised the same gym that Beel attended regularly. It was a dangerous thing to do, but how could you look away?

You take a glance at yourself in the mirror. your eyes were barely puffy. A bit red too. But overall, nothing seemed very different. Maybe— Just maybe, he wouldn’t even notice.

“Hello? You in there?”

You stiffen at the sound of his voice.

“Coming!” Hopping to your feet, you rush to the door and open it.

“Oh man, I was starting to get antsy smelling this bag... Let’s hurry and dig in.” His eyes are trained on the food in his hands, and his mouth is watering.

“Oh, Beel... You have some drool again!” You lightly scold him and wipe the corner of his mouth with a napkin from the table right beside the door.

At that, he finally gets a good look at you.

“Oh, thank y—... ou...” He trails off instantaneously. “Your eyes...”

You sigh and bow your head sheepishly. “Agh... I should’ve known you’d catch me. It’s not anything serious, I just was... I was watching a sad movie is all.”

His eyebrows knit together. “So were you studying or watching a movie?”

He caught me.

He pushes forward, closing the door behind him and taking your hands in his. He leaves the bag abandoned on the floor.

“y/n... What’s been up with you lately? You’re seriously not yourself.”

Your face flushes, and you sigh. Your throat suddenly feels tight. “Uh... That’s...”

He’s noticed this entire time. I’m an idiot.

“Listen, Beel...” You squeeze his hand. “I’ll tell you because I know that if I don’t, you’ll be worried sick.”

He nods hurriedly, heart rate increasing.

“I guess I just...” The words struggle to make their way out. “I don’t understand how-how someone like you; handsome, kind, and strong could end up with...” You pause, starting to tear up. “With someone like me.”

Beel takes a moment to process your situation.

And when he does, his head starts to spin, and his heart feels heavy like a boulder.

“y/n... What are you even thinking?” Is all he manages to whisper. He pulls you into a tight, comforting hug and sniffles.

“Beel—“

“You mean literally more to me than anything or anyone else.” He says firmly. “I don’t know what part of you you’re so hung up on, I couldn’t even imagine there being any reason to be.”

“You don’t have to—“

“I do.” He cuts you off firmly. If he didn’t, you may try to deny his definite truth. “y/n, I know i’m all about food and training... I’m sorry I don’t know how to make you realize how wonderful you are.

But I’d like to learn that with you. Is that okay?”

Your tears finally fall, soaking through his tank top.

“Of course... I’d love that.”

#obey me beel #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me male reader #obey me headcanons #obey me swd #om

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starshipsofstarlord · 3 years

Text

God is With You, Even as You’re Sinning

Pairing | Sam Winchester x reader

Summary | it was your first time not killing a monster, and in its place, taking the life of one of your own. Guilt entraps you, and it is up to Sam to break you out of your pitiful hypnosis.

Warnings | mentions of death, blood, angst, guilt, some smut, oral sex (fem receiving), penetrative unprotected sex, fingering, swearing, mentions of murder

Requested ✖️

Quick link to my masterlist, if you’re interested in reading more of my crap 😬

Fuck God. This was all his fault, everything was to be fair. He had left the world to continue on its own accord, the apocalypse threatening to spill over the planet and destroy it and all beauty that was lingering through the existence of humans.

They killed each other, and the creator of all could care less. It was his smallest problem, he didn’t mind that the murderer was succumbed to guilt, or how many restless nights that he or she endured. God was cruel, even if he held up a facade of being your ally, and trying his hardest as he supposed, to be your friend.

Your hands shook as you remembered the entailment of your mistake. It was a slip up, a vast and surreal experience that people usually learned from. But what were you supposed to do, not kill a human again? Yeah you had gotten that, after all, the initial deed had not at all been intentional.

There was the victim’s blood dried upon the outer layer of your skin, casting you in the perfect image of murderous intent. However, you had no thirst to kill, instead, your hunting of monsters, alike to many others partaking in a similar lifestyle, executed the mythical beasts to protect the human population.

It pained you truly, to know that you had killed a person. You hadn’t even spared the familiar body a second glance, and out of panic, you fled the scene, leaving the body of the city cleaner in the gutter, laying in the remnants of his friends’ and family’s waste, burying him in their crude excrement.

The thought alone, and the sight that was engrained in the peripheral of your mind had you feeling sick. Slowly, you plodded down the steps of the bunker’s entrance, surely leaving footprints trademarked in all kinds of grotesque evidence.

Without much care for what lay heavily inside, you dropped your duffel from your shoulder, allowing it to fall on the ground with a disgruntled clatter. Nothing meant anything anymore, not if you were indeed a real killer. Whilst some monsters had weaselled their way into society, ending their pathetic attempts at normality was different than taking away the life of an innocent and mortal bystander.

Often, with the darker and crueler species, there were reasons as to why they pretended to be of human birth. Mostly, it was so that they could feed from the naive flock, or kill for their own amusement. Either way, none of their reasons were good.

But now, you thought of yourself as no different than them. A creature that needed to be put down for their crimes. Filing, you breathed in, only inhaling the various moulds of putridity that was weaved into your hair, and stuck to your skin like a face mask.

“Should I call you Cassie now?” At the joke, a laugh from the speaker was triggered. He was quite amused with the sight of you, and thus, you sneered at the tall man, hating him a little bit more than usual.

“Your pop culture references aren’t appreciated Winchester, it’s more Dean’s street.” Shoving past him, his high shoulder floundered back at the harsh and ignorant impact, an expression of offence covering his stupid face. Like a fawn, he tumbled after you, watching as you walked sullenly into the kitchen, yanking the door to the fridge open, and extracting one of his brother’s store bought beers.

“I’m going to guess the hunt went bad.” Sam speculated, shoving his hands into his jeans pockets, and staring expectedly down at where you popped the cap off the bottle recklessly with your teeth. He almost winced at the sight, but he wished to keep this arrogant demeanour up with you, it was a natural desire to piss you off, and he’d be pissed at himself if he let it slip out of simple pity.

“Guess correct. Well done, you’ve won a trip to Hawaii.” You waved your free hand mockingly in the air, as the other raised the liquor to your mouth, allowing you to wilfully gulp the bitter liquid down. At his presence that remained nursing over you, you cocked a brow, leaning forwards as you expectedly looked back at the moose. “Just leave me alone Sam, I’m not in the mood for putting up with your bullshit.”

He, however, seemed not to be phased by you wanting to be left alone, and instead, quickly snatched the poison out of your hand, leaving you throughly prepared to keep him right in the balls. “What the fuck?” You all but screamed at the not so jolly giant. In turn, he crossed his arms across his chest, placing the bottle down on the island.

“I could ask you the same y/n.” His tone was dominantly serious, causing you to cower back into your shroud of guilty conscience. “Tell me what happened on that hunt, of which i told you that you shouldn’t have went on alone, since you wouldn’t have been able to handle it solo.”

You felt demeaned by his words, they sparked an anger out from the firm pit of your stomach. But you knew deep down, he was getting through to you, which was something that you had not managed to even do by yourself. Air heavily passed through and out of your nostrils, as acidic tears pooled in your eyes; a crack was falling down your walls, and out of all people, it was Sam Winchester whom had caused it.

“You’re right, I shouldn’t have gone alone, but you know what, I thought of what a Winchester would do. And then I remembered, I am sure as hell not a Winchester and I don’t have a brother anymore! Not now, he didn’t even know who I was earlier, didn’t even recognise a single genetically identical hair on my head as he watched me parade through the town, the very one that I ran away from when he was a baby and I was seven, wanting to hunt a monster. Yet, i didn’t kill a damn monster Sam, I murdered my brother because you’ve been right all along, I’m not fit for this job. I am a mess, so congratulations, you finally have got me to admit the one thing that you keep reminding me of.”

“Y/n...” Sam wasn’t sure how to respond, he felt the waves of shock ripple through his body. Never so freely had you been vulnerable around him, and here you were now, with very visible tears cascading down your utterly torn face. He understood it was an accident, and the times that he and Dean had tried to kill each other under supernatural circumstances had him wondering what if.

Shaking your grime tethered head at the sound of his cracked voice, you stormed past him, and immediately raced towards the shower room, finding to your luck, which had been non existent during the rest of the day, the halls were barren of life. Walking through the door, you tore your ruined clothes off, chucking them upon the floor without much acknowledgement, before you went under the warm spray of the shower head, trying to calm yourself.

To rid your skin of its evidential accessories, you had to scrub your skin until it was immediately raw. Everything within you ached, as you flicked back to the memory of the clueless expression that had been worn by your blood brother. It was probably a good thing that he didn’t know who you were, or else, he’d have known that his own sister murdered him due to her incompetence to listen to others.

Now, you were not even sure what were your tears, and what droplets of water belonged to the shower itself. For over an hour, you basked int eh warmth that seemed unable to cure your cold blooded system, turning the spritz off, and covering your body in a fluffy towel, that you were sure belonged to someone else, but right now, you could care less about who owned what.

As you reached the door to your bedroom, you found it to be preached slightly open, and as you pushed it the rest of the way, you saw Sam sat on the corner of your bed. You held your arms around yourself, insecure on the fact that beneath the stolen towel, you were nothing more than you. A wolf in sheep’s skin.

“Can I help you?” You bitterly asked, your eyes still burning from your own faulted loss. Sam breathed in, his eyes trailing up to your face, that was naked from any gruesome cosmetics or make up. The bareness to your completion illustrated an aura of innocence, and evidence that you were the same as him - human.

“That’s my towel.” The male hunter laughed, in hopes of changing the previous and well wounded subjected to ensure that you felt better. But what was he kidding, nothing could fill the void that you had dug in your own heart, nothing was closer than the bond between siblings, even if you were considered as strangers.

“Take it back then.” Too exhausted from your gruelling day, you dropped the material, your confident action making his eyes go wide, as he tried to look away from your exposed skin to respect your boundaries. It was impossible though not to allow his hazel hues to slip up the trunks of your thighs, up to- no, that was wrong, very wrong.

You had just lost your brother, not to mention, by your own hand, and he was prone to checking out your freelancing body, taking in every curve and twisted scar that was prominent to his speculating eyes. His eyes dropped to the discarded towel, which he had purposely left on the heating rail for later use, and then, they switched back towards you.

He stood, walking behind you as you looked through comfort clothes within your dresser. A light touch of his hand brushed your hair away from your neck, as he breathed a sweet hoax of hot air upon your scare. Sam was relieved that you didn’t reject the contact, and instead, pressed his lips upon the flesh, finding succession whence you hummed deliriously to yourself.

This interaction had been inevitable for a long time, but now no longer were the suspected intentions for such an exchange to be to release well endorsed frustrations. No, he was going to clear your mind for some sensual moments, and make your pretty little head forget for a moment that you had pained yourself in the worst of ways.

Turning, you laced your hands through his chocolate locks, massaging his scalp as you pulled him closer so that your lips could endure a rougher clasp against his. There was no passion, behind each contribution there was a spur of hunger, he grasped your ass cheeks, pulling you up to be sat upon the top of your heavy dresser.

Obliging his command, you spread your legs so that he could stand between their partition, his hands now running up the windows of your thighs. For a while, the pair of you did nothing more than make out, and cup a feel here and there, but soon after, Sam dropped to his lanky knees, leaving kisses in the wake of his descent.

His thumb and forefinger spread your fluttering folds, watching as your slit squirmed for attention. Sam licked his lips at the sight, running his middle finger up the expanse, until he came to your yearning entrance. Slowly, after making sure you were wet enough, Sam slipped his digit inside, you wiggling your hips to adjust to the thrust of his one finger.

To add to the sensations that were overriding your body, he moved his mouth to closer proximity, smelling the divine aroma that pulsed out of you. It was far too addictive to not get a taste, and thus,he pulled his finger out, sucking off your juices contently.

But that small sample just wasn’t enough, which encouraged him to dive face first into your pussy - literally. His long tongue teased your folds, slurping at the lips, and then switching to your clit to heighten the stimulation. He kept up a rhythm, using it as a pattern to push you closer to that edge, and he was surely certain that you were enjoying his oral work as you ground your face against him, moaning at his succulent administrations.

“Sam.” Oh god, was it pleasant to hear his own name fall out your mouth in such an erotic manner. It was far different from the way that you usually used it to snide at him, though, the thought of your regular treatment of him aided only to spur his lustful actions on. He wanted you to cum, for your juices to run down his face in waterfalls, looking as though someone had tried to drown him.

His work would not be complete until you found it difficult to even pronounce his short name. Digging his tongue in the hood of your clit, tracing around the protective area, his fingers returned to their earlier placement, and he quickened their pace until he could hear a satisfying squelch in the air.

Rapid sounds of parted moans raked from your mouth, your chest sticking out as you breasts heaved with your heavy breathing. It was noticeable that you were close, not just from that, but you were squeezing the circulation out of his fingers. “Fuck.” Left you in the form of a squeal, as you pussy wept its juices.

Sam was quick to lap everything that left you up, once more, tasting those that clung to his fingers. He went back in for another taste, but you tightly grouped his hair, pulling him away from your sopping cunt. “Need you to fuck me Sam, now.”

In an instant, the hunter stood, working precariously on undoing the buckle of his belt, and pushing all material that covered his lower half to the bottom of his thighs. He read already hard, and oozing precum. You swept your finger across the tip of his dick, bringing it to your lips to taste his foreshadowing seed.

Sam huffed at the sight,picking his prick up in one hand, and jerking himself a couple of times. And then, he aligned himself with you, rubbing his cock around your wet crevice a couple of times, slapping his tip teasingly against your puffy clit.

“Want my cock baby?” He asked, smirking as he watched you nod your head repeatedly. With that being all the confirmation that he needed, he pushed into you,feeling even more turned on as he heard you mewl, and watched the ecstatic expression cross your face as his dick fit inside of you all the way.

He grasped your hips, pulling out once before pushing in again. He repeated the action, his own eyes rolling to the back of his head at how tight you were. This would make you forget the cruel method of god, his story was not as epic as he though, for his characters were screwing against his will, basking in a distraction rather than the regretful pain that seethed in your trodden heart.

Another thrust had your nails clasping onto Sam’s covered back, biting onto his shoulder through the plaid, as you held back the tears that were trying to creep out of your blissful eyes. A few grunts left Sam, as his pace increased, and with every thrust, which only served to fuel him further, the dresser smashed into the wall behind it, most likely leaving a decent dent within the historical architecture.

“Gonna cum.” You told him, dragging him in for another tongue filled kiss as your cunt pooled around him, coating his cock in the honey from your delicious pot. He soon followed after, and for a moment, he remained against you, allowing you to bask in the comfort of his strange presence.

And then he pulled out, watching as his distraction dripped from your entrance, trailing down your thigh in a white streak. An orgasm smile was pulled onto your face, but it was certain to not last long for when you returned to the reality that laid waiting for you to return.

Sam stepped closer again, moving his fingers towards your cunt, and pushed his seed back inside of you, watching as your puffy pussy lips swallows any part of him that it could get. He would distract you for as long as he could, and then, deal with the inevitable.

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ashintheairlikesnow · 3 years

Note

*busts in the door* ANTONI SUFFERING PROMPTS? may I offer any combo of 8: pour salt in my muse’s wound(s), 5: drug my muse, and/or 23: trip my muse for my favorite ashtray 😍

One Two Three Four Five

CW: Burns, salt in wound, cigarette smoking, internal and external dehumanization, pet whump, emeto mention

"Sssshhhh." His whimpers have gotten too loud again, and there's a hand in his hair, rough petting that feels more like another kind of violence, opening new wounds. It's Quiet One crouched in front of him, head tilted, eyes sparkling in the graying darkness as dawn comes closer and closer. "Hold still. There we go. Good boy."

A shiver of pleasure runs down his spine, the simple pure sense of doing what he is trained to do, made to do. Made for, what he wanted, to make up for whatever sins are buried deep inside his ruined memory.

"How do you know all this shit, anyway? Not just the movie. They didn't get into half this shit in the movie." Deep-Voice is back in the wrecked kitchen, going through cabinets with doors that hang off broken hinges.

The ashtray is in what was the living room, his hands tied behind him with his own t-shirt, ripped to long strips. He's sweating, even in the chilly empty room, sitting up but slumped over. They've tied one bit of his shirt around his neck with a little bow.

A droplet of sweat runs down his collarbone, dips over his chest, finds a new burn and the ashtray hisses, biting on his lower lip to kill the sound until he feels blood burst free of him again. How many times has he bitten his lip tonight?

Lookout sits over by the front door, miraculously still intact right down to its frosted glass panels. He keeps looking outside and then back, chain-smoking, one cigarette after another even after his face seems green around the edges. There are five from him, five new circles of pain for the ashtray to focus on.

Three with his eyes sparkling, two with a growing uncertainty. Then Lookout went and threw up outside in the bushes someone had once carefully landscaped along the front of the house. He had to be convinced to stop panicking over DNA, Quiet One had to lecture him on not listening to the fucking true crime podcasts any longer.

They're not gonna test your goddamn puke, asshole. Besides, does that look like somebody who's gonna call a fucking detective? Get back in here.

Now Lookout sits by the door, and the butts of the cigarettes he has already finished lay scattered around his shoes.

"My uncle," Quiet One says, using the ashtray's hair to lift his head again, looking over the glazed, empty obedience written alongside the suffering, worn openly on his face. "Works for WRU. They're not supposed to talk about it, sign like the world's most ironclad NDA, but he tells me stories sometimes."

"Ron?" That's Lookout, voice shaking. He looks like he wants to throw up again. The ashtray blinks at him, dazedly. How can he look sick when the ashtray is the one whose skin is burning for his crimes? "Ron works for-"

"Hey! What the fuck did I say about names?" Quiet One rolls his eyes. Deep Voice comes back in, shoes crunching on glass and rocks and bits of crumpled paper and everything else that's been dragged in here over time. He crouches next to Quiet One, holding out a thick cylindrical... something.

The ashtray's eyes can't focus enough to understand.

"Look what I found," Deep Voice says, softly.

Quiet One grins. "Oh, yeah. Do it, man."

Deep Voice flips open a little metal thing along the cylinder's lid, and the ashtray's eyebrows furrow, confused. His thoughts move slowly, fighting through deep water.

He realizes what it is just as Deep Voice tips the canister of salt and pours it over the new constellation they've made on his stomach, reaching out with his other hand to rub circles, pressing the grit deeply into the burns.

The ashtray's back arches, every muscle locked, choked sounds coming from a throat that won't open enough for a scream. Quiet One keeps a hand in his hair to hold him still, watching with bright avid eyes, glittering with fascination as he looks at the veins in the ashtray's neck standing out, the blood smeared along his chin from his lower lip.

"Jesus Christ," Quiet One says, softly. "You're fucking gorgeous, buddy, you know that?"

"What if he gets, like, infected from this?" Lookout asks, hands shaking so hard he drops the lighter when he tries to light up again. "And like. Dies?"

"What if he does?" Quiet One shrugs one shoulder. "Sucks to be him, then, I guess." His eyes move over the ashtray's face, watching with intensity as Deep Voice pours salt on another set of burns, listening to the ashtray's hitched sobs, watching the tears track through dirt down his cheeks. "Fuck, man. Those cheekbones. I can see why some old fucking perv wanted you."

It wasn't for his cheekbones. The ashtray would tell them if he could remember how to speak. It was for his crimes, it was because he had done something so terrible he would give anything to escape it. It was because he had to pay for what he'd done. It was because-

Abruptly, Quiet One lets go of his hair, letting his head fall back down, chin nearly to his chest. "Hey. Get over here with the lighter, man."

"Why?"

"I want to do one more. I'm tired, I want to go to bed. Come on."

The ashtray catches Lookout's soft oh thank god as he gets to his feet and shuffles over, dropping the pack of cigarettes and the lighter into Quiet One's waiting hands.

"What the fuck, dude?"

"What?"

"You smoked like the whole damn pack! This shit costs money, you fucking baby."

"Fuck off, I'll buy you more. Just. Finish it up, I want to go home, too." Lookout looks away, out the broken windows towards the street. "People're gonna be fucking waking up soon. Let's get out of here."

"Yeah, yeah. Asshole."

Quiet One turns back to him, using one finger to tip his chin up, almost gently. The ashtray looks back at him, blank but for the pain. It fills his body, the throb of each individual new mark joining the itching aches of the old. The oldest scars are so faint they hardly mar his skin, the newest are bright red burns, skin buckling and bubbling under heat it isn't made to withstand.

"Pozhaluysta," He whispers, lips barely moving. "Pozhaluysta, Mr. Davies, ostanovites'."

"Mmmn. That's Russian, isn't it? Sexy. One more, pet. Think you can handle one more burn for me? Take it quiet and we'll leave. Can you do that for me?"

The ashtray nods, frantically, in desperate need for it to end. He can go back to his room, with the bars on the windows, and sing himself to sleep. He can go back to his room.

"Good boy."

The ashtray stares at the little red circle of light as the cigarette is lit, the flickering flame. The click of the lighter as it shuts again, the smoke blown into his face. Familiar and wrong, this smoke is bitter and acrid and Mr. Davies always smelled sweet and almost herbal when he smoked, the deep clove smell in the ashtray's clothes, his hair, lingering on his skin.

They untie his hands from behind his back and the bow from his neck, Quiet One rubbing at the deep red marks left behind, thumb moving back and forth over the ashtray's Adam's apple, breathing softly. "Shit. God, I wish I had one of these for mine."

"Well, unless you discover a shitload of money, you'd just be stealing. Or... like, committing a bunch of fucking felonies."

"Yeah, yeah. If I clean up a bit I bet my uncle could get me in at WRU. I heard they have a handler there who fucking killed like four people before he got the job."

"Jesus Christ, dude, seriously?"

"Yeah. Peters or something. My uncle doesn't fuck with him. Nobody does. Said he's fucking gross but he gets Employee of the Month like all the time. I could be gross for money."

"Man, who wouldn't be gross for money."

"Ha, right? All right, let's finish this shit up." Quiet One sighs, looking back at the ashtray. "You were a good fucking time, man. Enjoyed the hell out of this. Here we go. Stay quiet for me now."

Quiet One presses the cigarette into the inside of the ashtray's wrist, right in the center of his barcode, the one place that Mr. Davies never touched.

The ashtray bites his lip until it bleeds, whining deep in his throat as new tears fall, but he doesn't scream. He's quiet.

He's good.

He can be good.

"There we go." A ruffle to his hair and Quiet One stands, Deep Voice following almost immediately. Quiet One relights his cigarette and walks to the door, where Lookout moves outside before them.

Quiet One is the last to leave, looking over his shoulder at the ashtray still sitting on the ground, slumped over, in the ruined house. He lifts up his cell phone, turns on flash, and takes a photo.

The ashtray flinches at a sudden blinding light he barely registers as what it is, and Quiet One and Deep Voice laugh.

Lookout is already out by the street, bouncing on his toes, looking back and forth like he expects sirens any second.

"Maybe we'll see you again sometime," Quiet One says, and then they leave, their voices and laughter fading along with the crunch of gravel under their shoes, until the only sound left is the ashtray's ragged, uneven breathing.

He doesn't know when he gets to his feet, or how. He pulls the sweatshirt back on and leaves the shreds of his t-shirt behind. The front door is open, and when he stumbles outside, the sky is pink along the edges of the horizon.

The ashtray moves down the sidewalk, and he doesn't know where he's going, or what he'll do when he gets there.

He ends up standing, swaying a little, next to a stop sign in a place that looks familiar but he doesn't know at all. The pre-dawn light has everything slightly eerie and unsettled in his mind, shapes crashing into each other, puzzle pieces that don't quite fit.

A hand touches his back and he spins around with a gasp, staring down in terror at a short elderly woman with dark brown skin and thick hair a blend of silvery white and black pulled no-nonsense at the nape of her neck.

She looks up at him, her own eyebrows knitted. "I said good morning. Did you hear-" She goes quiet, and her eyes move over his face with too much understanding.

She knows.

Everyone knows what he is. Everyone has always known. It was a mistake to believe he could be safe anywhere outside the four walls of Nat's home. It was a mistake to think he could build a life that might involve leaving here, living on his own.

Everyone will always know.

Antoni swallows, and shudders as it makes the fresh burn on his throat ache and throb in reminder. He struggles to move his mouth to speak. "M-... Miss Ruth. D-Dobroye utro."

He realizes only then that his sweatshirt is still unzipped, and she can see the line of scars, the new burns and old, and heat rushes to his cheeks underneath the dirt already caking them.

"Oh, honey. What happened to you?" Ruth's voice is low, and she looks to one side, and then the other. Then she sighs and steps back, gesturing. "Come on inside my house, sweetheart. Just me this week, no one else to bother us. Let me patch you up, your people are still sleeping no doubt."

His people.

He is safe with his people, inside the house. But he has never been safe when he leaves. It is too easy to read what he is in every inch of his skin.

"Spasibo," He whispers as he follows her up the steps.

#antoni sings lullabies #emeto mention #whump #burns tw #salt in the wound #pet whump #dehumanization #creepy whumper #sadistic whumper #multiple whumpers #smoking tw #noncon touching #noncon touch (nonsexual)

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tennessoui · 3 years

Note

40 or 43 if you’re still taking prompts! i love ur AUs they’re so beautiful and contain so much brilliance within a short snippet!

it's been so long, anon, you probably forgot you sent this but here is prompt 40, exes meeting after not seeing each other for a long time. in true tennessoui fashion, they don't. actually. meet and/or see each other in this snippet. also in true tennessoui fashion, all tennessoui needs to decide to continue this is one (1) validation.

the backstory here is something i have been thinking about for days after a discord convo, where during the fight on mustafar, obi-wan hits anakin hard enough in the head that he loses all of his memories. obi-wan takes him with him for a few months but the wounds of Order 66 and vaderkin's role in what happened is too fresh for obi-wan to (understandably) get over, even if this anakin doesn't remember doing it, so they separate. this is set 8 years after Mustafar.

(1.7k)

“Kenobi won’t come,” the fighter pilot says immediately upon disembarking from his craft.

One commander lets out a groan. Someone else hits the durasteel side of the closest x-wing with a closed fist.

“Do we really need him?” Anakin demands, crossing his arms over his chest. “It’s been eight years since the rise of the Empire. Surely a washed-up Jedi General from the Clone Wars won’t have people jumping to join the Rebellion!”

No one meets his eye. In fact, the air room suddenly feels very, very uncomfortable.

Organa exhales heavily and turns to look at Anakin, which is rare because the man never voluntarily looks at Anakin. “There are few names from that time that still carry an untainted weight in the eyes of the galaxy. Obi-Wan Kenobi is one of them.”

“I grew up hearing about The Team!” A teenager says eagerly. “I’d join any resistance movement if I knew both of ‘em were fighting with me!”

“You’re already a part of a resistance movement,” a girl next to him pointed out waspishly.

The boy waves her off. “Skywalker and Kenobi, saving the galaxy! It’d be wizard to be a part of that, and you know it, Aasha!”

Anakin’s throat tightens at that name. Skywalker. His name. Or, his old name. He has no more connection to it now than he does to the name Kenobi or Organa. They’re just letters.

He catches Organa’s eye. The man is looking at him with a mix of curiosity and wariness. Anakin knows instinctively that this is another one of the man’s tests. Will this time be the time that whatever injury has kept his memories suppressed for eight years is undone, and his previous life comes thundering through his mind?

He’s sick of these tests. He’s never failed one, but Organa never comes closer to trusting him afterward. He can only assume that whatever Anakin Skywalker had done in his last few days alive had been so terrible that only a few people knew the truth, and those who did would never forgive any version of him for it.

Organa certainly knew, though he had never shared that information with Anakin. And.

And Kenobi did as well. That was clear. They’d only been together for five standard months, sharing a small spacecraft made smaller by the fear, agony, grief, fury, and hurt radiating off of his companion into the space around them.

It had been hard to tell at the time if one of the things Obi-Wan Kenobi had been grieving was the loss of Anakin Skywalker. Anakin isn’t sure Kenobi would have been able to answer that either.

Some part of him that usually rests dormant in the back of his mind stirs and hisses that it had to have been. That Skywalker’s loss had torn Kenobi’s soul to shreds.

This doesn’t necessarily feel like his own thought, but it’s quite hard to ignore. He wants to rub a hand against his aching head, but that surely would tip off Organa that something’s--what? That he’s having thoughts?

Perish the very idea.

One would think Anakin hadn’t joined the Rebellion of his own free will. That Anakin hadn’t spent three standard months on the planet Kenobi had left him on before catching wind of the existence of the Rebel Alliance, that he hadn’t risked life and limb (more limb, apparently, given his missing flesh hand) to find them afterwards. He hadn’t known much anything about himself, but he had known that he hadn’t liked what the Imperial troops were doing, how much destruction they were causing, how the people they were supposed to be protecting hid in fear of their white armor.

Something in Anakin had rebelled at that, had thought it wrong and twisted. Someone needs to stop them, he’d thought. So he had found the people that were trying to.

And yes, a small part of him had thought--perhaps hoped--that Obi-Wan Kenobi would be a part of the Rebel Alliance by the time Anakin made his way to their biggest base. He had thought--perhaps hoped--that he would be able to prove himself to the other man. Look, he had wanted to scream at Kenobi, I’m not like that other Anakin, I would never do what he did. You can trust me. You can look me in the eye, I won’t stab you in the back.

Because something in him had yearned, still yearns, for Kenobi’s approval. For the weight of his gaze settling warmly around his shoulders. For his small smiles, his calloused hand clasping the back of Anakin’s head to bring their foreheads together in a gentle tap hello.

These are things Anakin knows he’s never experienced. But he must have in his past life, because his whole body will ache for them like a phantom limb. It’s been seven years and a few months since he last saw Kenobi.

“I’ll go,” Anakin says, which is what he said the last time they were standing like this, huddled around a fighter pilot delivering the same message of failure.

Organa’s mouth tightens in displeasure, and Mothma places a hand on his arm in warning.

Everyone else falls silent around them, as if recognizing the fact that they’re in the middle of a brewing storm, and they’re lucky to be in its eye right now.

“I do not think--” Organa starts, but Anakin cuts him off, crossing his arms even tighter over his chest, as if to hold himself back. The force suppression collar around his neck grows warmer, but it holds. It always holds.

“You’re already sending men who look like me to him!” Anakin points out irately. “The last four men could have been related to me!” It’s something Anakin’s thought about in the past but never said out loud. He’s glad to say it now though, especially because Organa flushes a bit which means Anakin’s right. “Just send me! If it doesn’t work, nothing in the galaxy will!”

Now, Anakin isn’t sure that’s true at all. He’s taking a huge leap with this, but it’s been seven years and a few months since he saw Obi-Wan Kenobi in person, and every part of him is aching with the desire to lay eyes on the man again. Will he hate him still? Will he see all the differences Anakin’s made to his appearance? Will he like them? He fights the urge to run a hand over his shorn hair.

Will Obi-Wan even let him through the door?

The people around them are murmuring now. They don’t know what Organa knows, what Anakin has guessed at: that Skywalker died a traitor to the Republic, that he had tried to strike down Obi-Wan like the Emperor struck down the rest of the Jedi. To them, these fortunate outsiders, they’re wondering why Anakin Skywalker hasn’t already been sent to locate and bring back their errant General.

Before, Anakin’s offer had been quiet, easily ignored over someone else’s. Now he’s loud and confident. Impossible to turn away without making a public scene, without explaining why. And Organa has tried very hard not to do that. For whatever reason, Anakin doesn’t know. All he knows is that after he’d been examined by a battalion of med droids and interrogated by all three leaders of the Rebellion, Organa had given him a list of rules he had to follow in order to join the Rebel Alliance. Firstly, never remove his cuffs and collar.

It’s not a slave collar and it won’t electrocute you if you touch it or try to take it off, Organa had told him when he’d blanched away at the sight. But I have been informed by a trusted ally that the Chance--the Emperor knows your Force Signature intimately. We cannot risk being found. It would kill all hope for us.

Secondly, never confirm his identity. Never talk about who he used to be.

People will know, Organa had grudgingly admitted. Skywalker was one of the faces of the Clone Wars. But you cannot confirm it. In fact.

Thirdly, give up the name Skywalker. Pick another last name, if not first as well.

But Anakin had been attached to his first name for some reason he didn’t know how to begin to question, so even after he toyed with the idea of changing it completely, he couldn’t go through with it. Weeks later he had shown up in Organa’s makeshift office.

I had a mother, didn’t I? He had asked, causing Organa to stiffen immediately.

Do you remember? Organa had interrogated immediately, his standard greeting for Anakin. Anakin had gotten the feeling, especially in those early days, that Organa was waiting with baited breath for Anakin to remember so he could try him for war crimes or treason or whatever it was that Skywalker had done.

No, he had responded honestly. Just a feeling. If I am to take a new last name, I want her name.

A few days later, Anakin had stumbled into his bunk, tired from a day of hard training, to see a packet of documents on his pillow.

Anakin Shmison was written at the top of the first page.

The list of rules goes on and on.

But nowhere does it say that Anakin Shmison isn’t allowed to mention Obi-Wan Kenobi in public. He just never has, because even the sound of the man’s name makes him feel very nauseous, a combination of butterflies and adder snakes wrestling around inside his stomach.

Bail Organa is looking like he’s regretting that oversight right now, but Anakin has backed him quite solidly into a proverbial corner. Either finally tell everyone what happened between Anakin Skywalker and Obi-Wan Kenobi in the last few hours of the Republic, or give Anakin Shmison leave to retrieve Kenobi.

“Fine,” Organa gets out, jaw locked and vein throbbing in his temple. Anakin has the distinct feeling he’se spent a lot of his life on the receiving end of that expression. “Have this X-Wing refueled, and leave tonight.”

“No sir,” Anakin says, enjoying the way one of the man’s eyebrows shoot up in angry incredulity.

“No?” Organa asks. “Would you like more beauty rest, perhaps, Shmison?”

“No sir, I don’t need it,” this time he doesn’t resist running a hand through his hair, messing with its part so his longer bangs fall to one side and balance out the mysterious scar that bisects his eyebrow. He grins. “But I will need a craft that sits two. For the return trip.”

#asks #i had a scene planned out where x y z happens and obi-wan lets anakin into his hut/home #and anakin is just like look im a part of the rebellion now!!#and obi-wan 'i use my sarcasm to hide my infinite sadness' is like #'yes im sure the rebellion wouldnt exist without you'#because you know. technically it wouldn't.#but anakin doesnt really get that context so hes like 'stop speaking in tongues old man!!!'#and obi-wan says 'please do not call me that' in the wateriest most loosely strung together voice anakins ever heard #anyways whats happening with me that all im writing is angst #i love happy things and happy endings #obikin #(because they'd get together come on anakin probably has an undercut now and hes thirty obi-wans only a man)#(the bitter resentment is strong but the flesh is WEAK BITCH)#kit to kit: u dont need another wip u really cannot have another wip ur not strong enough for another wip u--#prompt fill

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morkleemelon · 4 years

Text

pairing: mark x reader, best friend! haechan x reader, gender neutral

genre: college! au, angst, based on the song ‘drivers license’ by olivia rodrigo

warnings: language, heartbreak, allusions to a broken past, mention of parental issues, college party with alcohol

word count: 5021

song recs: drivers license - olivia rodrigo, heather - conan gray, happier - ed sheeran, a soulmate who wasn’t meant to be - jess benko, someone you loved - lewis capaldi

I got my driver's license last week

Just like we always talked about

'Cause you were so excited for me

To finally drive up to your house

But today I drove through the suburbs

Crying 'cause you weren't around

The apartment door shut behind you with a soft click as you return after a long day of classes. Feeling around the wall in the dark, you switch on the overhead light, the murmur of electricity giving its greetings.

Your living space is underwhelming: you’ve allowed yourself minimal furniture to save on funds and what little you do have is unfortunately not tidied well.

Unopened mail scatters across your plaster countertop. One in particular seems out of place amongst the dull grays and whites of the others, the bright smile of a supposed student greeting you with a cartoonish “congrats! you passed your driving test!”.

It all seems pointless now.

Your body aches as you set down your backpack and strip off your outer layers. It’s mid-spring in Seoul, so daily downpours of rain is a given.

Tossing your raincoat carelessly over a nearby chair, you don’t mind as the raindrops patter onto the wood panel floor as you make your way to the living room couch. The worn out leather used to be comfortable, but now it scratches at your skin with the memories you had attached to it.

You remember when he used to be here with you. You’d laughed together, cried together, talked together until the moon went to rest and the sun took its place in the sky. Everything was brighter then when he loved you.

Mark had chased after you first. He’d taken to you almost immediately after you’d met; he was walking downtown with his friends and when he wasn’t careful where he was going, backing into you and causing you to spill your tea all over yourself. He was flustered, running into the nearby café to get you napkins to clean yourself off. You said it was okay, but he insisted he give you his number so he could pay to get your shirt cleaned or buy you a new one.

Pulling a blanket throw over your legs, you switch on the tv to drown out the quiet. Your eyes fix on the old soap opera, but you aren’t really paying attention. The roaring laugh track falls dead to your ears as you pull the blanket closer over yourself. The space next to you feels so empty.

Mark was never subtle about liking you. After that first time you met, he made it his mission to make you his. You weren’t sure about it because he was part of the popular crowd and you weren’t one to date around. Not to mention, being pursued so earnestly was a new experience for you, one that seemed too good to be true. The first time he asked you out, you rejected him. You thought he would give up then, realize you were nothing special and you would go back to your sheltered life. That was what you grew to expect from others.

But unhindered, he persisted. Much to your astonishment, he snaked his way into your everyday life, chipping away at your walls piece by piece. When it rained, he had an umbrella waiting. When you cried, he had the tissues ready. Piece by piece, you let him see inside. You could never forget the moment when he finally succeeded and your resolve came crumbling down.

He was sitting right there, on the cushion not one arm’s length away from where you sit now. Mark was never shy about telling you that you were beautiful, that you were special, but this time he prepared a special weapon to win you over.

Mark sat there strumming his acoustic guitar, the one his big brother gave him for christmas, as he so excitedly boasted to you.

“This is a song I wrote about you,” he said, peering into your eyes. His voice was soft and he seemed shy for the first time. Fingers dancing on the strings, he was genuine and vulnerable in front of you. “Forever,” he sang and ‘forever’ you believed.

So you let yourself love him back.

You kissed him first, to his surprise. You mustered all the courage you had and you leaned over his instrument to cup his warm cheek, pressing your lips quickly to the corner of his mouth. Maybe it was short and you had missed a little, but your heart raced with anticipation. “How would he react?” you had worried to yourself afterwards. You had your doubts, that is, until he kissed you back.

Mark’s hands were laced through your hair as he brought you in again, this time deeper than the first. Moving his guitar onto the floor beside you, he pulled you into his lap and you kissed him back with all the love you had. It felt so natural, moving your lips against his and feeling his breath fan across your wet skin as he kissed a line down your neck.

You could still feel it, only now it burns.

He asked you to be his and you breathed a “yes” back. He kissed away your insecurities, insisting they made you all the more special. Piece by piece, then all at once, you gave yourself to him.

Days turned to weeks then months, you came back to your apartment together, kissing, loving, he always went out of his way for you. “This is it,” you thought, “he’s the one”.

You talked about him with your friends all the time, gushing about how good he was to you. Mark integrated into your friend group with ease and he got along especially well with your best friend, Haechan. When he met your mom, she wouldn’t stop praising how well mannered Mark was. In every way, he was perfect for you. And in every way, you believed he would be forever.

One of the things Mark always teased you about was your lack of a license. Most students your age had one now that you were in university, but you had yet to take the test out of fear. Mark let you drive his car around the parking lot and the two of you laughed at your jolting stops every time you hit a curb. You said you were scared, but he held your hand and told you it was okay. With his help, you drove the small white car around in circles until the fear went away.

You promised him that once you got your license, the first place you would go was his house since he always had to drive to yours. Mark’s face lit up in such a way that could only be pure joy and you kissed the night away. He said he couldn’t wait.

But, you guess, now he can.

And you're probably with that blonde girl

Who always made me doubt

She's so much older than me

She's everything I'm insecure about

Yeah, today I drove through the suburbs

'Cause how could I ever love someone else?

It was only so long before you came across your first problems. Part of it was your fault; you were foolish enough to believe that you would always be the most important one in his life. You’d grown so used to Mark’s special treatment and constant reassurance that when he treated you any different, you got so scared.

It was a saturday night and he wanted to bring you out to a party. You begged him to stay inside like you always did, just the two of you, but you could tell he really wanted to go.

“Can’t you go without me?,” you asked, lying next to him in your bed.

“I wanna show you off,” he whined back, pulling you into a suffocating hug.

“Ah, fine!,” you squealed, your chin wedged in the nape of his neck as he squeezed you tight. He pressed a dozen kisses all over you then.

“It’s not a big deal,” you thought, “this is the least I can do for him”.

When you showed up to the party, you stuck right by his side. You had never been to one before, the alcohol and drugs making you uncomfortable. The trap music blared loudly as sweaty, intoxicated students grinded on each other shamelessly. Unfamiliar men looked at you with hooded, lustful eyes and you pulled at the hem of your short dress in discomfort. Mark hardly regarded you except for a hand at your waist and chatted freely with his friends that you didn’t know.

You felt out of place. Even without drinking anything, it wasn’t long before the heat of the frat house made your head spin and you tugged at Mark’s arm to get his attention.

“Baby, I want to leave,” you pleaded.

“What? But we haven’t been here for even an hour, ___”. Mark looked so disappointed as you interrupted his drinking game.

“I’m sorry, Mark, I really don’t want to be here,” you insisted, hoping he would once again leave everything and come to you.

For the first time, he hesitated. And for the first time, you saw her.

“Mark!,” an unfamiliar voice shouted over the cacophony. A blonde girl headed over to you. She was tall, clearly older by the way she carried herself. Her skin glistened with sweat from the party, but it didn’t take away from her gorgeous features. Even as her makeup ran slightly, you took in her looks with a pang of envy.

“Oh, hey!,” Mark greeted, his hand leaving your waist to pull her into a hug. Your heart tugged with jealousy. The way she looked at him and the way he didn’t even seem to see you as he chatted with her made you sick to your stomach. You felt like you couldn’t breathe.

Turning around, you weaved your way through the crowd towards the exit. The cold night air greeted you as you opened the front door to leave. You shivered at the difference in temperature as you made your way quickly down the driveway. It felt so wrong to be walking away from Mark, but the emotions crowding your head made you take one step after the other.

All the rest of you begged for him to stop you, to run after you and reassure you like he always did. So when you felt his hand grip your elbow, spinning you around, tears streamed down your face in relief.

“I’m sorry, ___,” he apologized, hugging you close. It was so warm. “I’m sorry”.

And you forgave him so easily.

And I know we weren't perfect but I've never felt this way for no one

And I just can't imagine how you could be so okay now that I'm gone

Guess you didn't mean what you wrote in that song about me

'Cause you said forever now I drive alone past your street

But that fight was the first of many. Each worse than the last - it started with bickering about little things like being late for dates or accidentally missing calls. Much to your greatest fear, Mark became noticeably slower to respond to your messages and always seemed to cancel your plans together, if you even made them anymore. Slowly, you found yourself sitting alone in your house more, waiting for him.

Still, you believed in him naively. Every couple fights, right? And he promised you forever. Just like every other time, he would come back to you and all would be well. You loved him like you’ve never loved anyone, even more than yourself.

But what you didn’t know was that you were pressing on the gas while Mark was slamming the brakes - your relationship became dysfunctional and before you could admit it, you were the only one hanging on.

You pressed too hard and everything exploded.

“We’re just friends, I don’t know what’s not clicking!,” Mark huffed angrily as he paced around your apartment kitchen.

“I’m not saying anything, all I mean is that I wish you’d told me that you were driving her home,” you reply, raising your voice slightly.

“You don’t own me, ___, I don’t have to tell you everything! What about you and Haechan, huh? You’re always hanging out with him and I never say anything!”. His voice was almost a shout, nothing like the loving tone he always used with you. He started packing up his things.

“Chan is my best friend, you know that,” you answer, voice breaking slightly as tears began to form.

Mark zipped up his bag, pausing to look up at you. His gaze was stiff, but it softened slightly at the sight of you. You could tell he was thinking about his next move. You thought it would be just like every other argument you had - he would pull you into his chest and the rhythmic beat of his heart would tell you he forgave you. After all, you had his promise of ‘forever’.

But this time, he turned away. He sauntered towards the door and with his hand on the handle, he fired his words like arrows to your heart.

“I think we need a break”

And just like that he left, the door clicking softly behind him.

One second, two, three.

You waited with your breath hitched in your throat for him to come back.

Four, five, six.

Tears dangled from the tip of your chin before splattering against the wooden floorboards as you listened for his footsteps to approach again.

They never did.

And all my friends are tired

Of hearing how much I miss you but

I kinda feel sorry for them

'Cause they'll never know you the way that I do

Yeah, today I drove through the suburbs

And pictured I was driving home to you

That night left you utterly broken. You stood there in shock until the gravity of your pain brought you crashing down. Crying and crying more, you waited still for him to come back. Mark broke down your walls only to leave you defenseless - sheltering yourself was a good defense mechanism, one that was supposed to prevent you from being hurt like your dad did your mom.

In every way, you blamed yourself. You were never good enough for him and you never did nearly as much for him as he did you. A piece of work, that’s what you were. You didn’t deserve him and now he finally realized it.

You had cried all week, barely leaving your room to eat and go to class. You debated calling in sick, but even that cost energy you didn’t have. Checking your phone religiously, the pressure in your chest grew greater each time you saw he didn’t text or call.

Your last two messages were left unread: you’d asked him to call you to talk and you said you were sorry for doubting him.

Calling your friends was the only relief that came to you, but you felt bad for always bothering them. They didn’t have the words to comfort you. Well, there wasn’t anything they could say to comfort you.

But the final blow was yet to come.

Your phone buzzed with a message and your hand instinctively rushed to check it.

A message from Mark?

Your heart dropped when you saw it was only a calendar reminder.

“Driver’s License Test Today!”

You squeezed your eyes shut then as the memories of the times you spent practicing with Mark flooded back unwillingly. Shifting around in your cold bed, you wrapped yourself closer into the mess of sheets. He praised you as you got better, setting up the appointment himself.

“You can do it, babe,” he smiled at you widely from the passenger seat, “Once you get your license you can come over to my house all by yourself”. He leaned in close and you instinctively tilted your neck towards him to meet his lips. Kissing the sensetive spot where your jaw meets your ear, you let out a soft sigh of content. “And we can have so much fun”.

Struggling to ignore the stinging pain of the recollection, it took everything in you to muster the energy to go. Something in you still believed that maybe he would come back. Maybe he just needed time to think and he still meant forever. Maybe he was hurting just like you.

So you go to the dmv and you drive just like you practiced with Mark’s old white car, only this time with your own rental. The proctor ticked away at the boxes as you cruised around the familiar suburban streets. You’re glad he didn’t mention your puffy under eyes and slept-in hair.

“Alright, kiddo” the proctor finished signing the checklist as you pulled back into the original parking lot, “congrats! You passed!”.

You smiled and thanked him, but you didn’t feel happy. After the proctor hopped out of your car, you checked your phone to see you had a missed message. Heart racing, you unlock it quickly, hands shaking while you typed in your passcode. It had started to drizzle outside.

“___, I’ve been thinking a lot and I think it’s best if we broke up. I just don’t love you anymore. I’m sorry”.

You dropped your phone.

Minutes must have passed before you could move a muscle. Rain pattered gray against your windshield and you watched as the droplets ran down and disappeared into the wipers. You felt like you couldn’t breathe.

Your body on autopilot, you start the car, the old engine skipping a few times before running smoothly. Hardly thinking, you cruised through the suburban neighborhoods outside of Seoul, not sure of where you were going, but needing to go somewhere.

“Mark,” you say to no one, “Mark”. The second one was barely a whisper. You repeated his name to yourself as the rain bore down harder, tears falling down onto your lap. Curling your fingers tighter around the steering wheel, you sped down to the only place you knew to go.

“What the hell,” the boy at the door stated, staring bewildered at your soaking form. You sobbed, raindrops mixing with your tears so it was unclear which was which. Lighting cracked in the dark sky, followed by the inevitable rumble of thunder. Your car was pulled over the side of the road and you stood shivering pitifully in front of your best friend.

Haechan took you inside, offering you a towel and dry clothes while you said nothing, not trusting your voice to handle words. Of course, the two of you were close enough to understand this and he offered you silence back.

You cried into his lap as he patted you on the arm. The fireplace crackled in the background, but you still felt so cold.

“He broke up with me,” you hiccupped out finally, grabbing onto his hands for dear life. You hadn’t voiced it out loud yet and the words left your throat like knives.

“That son of a bitch,” Haechan cursed, letting you grip onto him, not saying anything about the pain.

“I-I,” your body shook as you hiccupped uncontrollably. He shushed you, stroking your hair with his other hand to calm you down.

You took deep breaths, closing your eyes to try to pacify your trembling sobs and make the pain go away.

“It hurts,” you finally managed, “It hurts so bad”.

Haechan squeezed your hand in acknowledgement, not knowing what to say. Just like that, he held you for hours until his legs went numb and your small gasps calmed into steady breathing. Still, he didn’t move.

“One day,” he softly broke the silence, brushing invisible circles on the back of your hand, “it’ll all pass. You might think he’s everything right now, but if he wasn’t ready to love all of you, he doesn’t deserve you”.

And it was after letting those words sink in that you slowly began to notice the warmth of the fireplace.

Red lights

Stop signs

I still see your face

In the white cars

Front yards

Can't drive past the places

We used to

Go to

'Cause I still fucking love you, babe

You drifted asleep on his lap then, peacefully. When you awoke, your best friend was no longer in your embrace and you blinked to remember where you were. For a second, just a small second, you forgot about what happened the day before.

Shifting up to a sitting position, you stretched your sore neck and looked around to Haechan in the kitchen. A sizzling noise accompanied by the alluring smell of bacon wafted over. Your stomach grumbled - it had been a few days since you’d had the appetite to eat something.

You made your way to the familiar kitchen, one you had spent many days hanging out in. Haechan tilted his head towards the sound of your approaching footsteps.

“You’re awake?”

You nodded in response. He wore a floral apron as he cooked, his hair still messy from sleep. For the first time in a while, you smiled.

After breakfast, he let you drive to school.

“I didn’t know you got your license,” the boy remarked as he buckled in.

“I did. Just yesterday”. Your voice was still slightly hoarse from crying. With your best attempts in Haechan’s bathroom, you washed the tears from your face. You hoped you could pretend you were okay.

But as you drove along, you passed the house that you had so temporarily forgotten about. The white car parked outside of Mark’s home pierced your chest with dull pain as you remembered the promises you made together.

“That’s cool. Did you finish the bio project?,” Haechan made his best attempt at capturing your attention, understanding what was going through your head.

You couldn’t reply.

Sidewalks

We crossed

I still hear your voice

In the traffic

We're laughing

Over all the noise

God, I'm so blue

Know we're through

But I still fucking love you, babe

The rest of the ride was silent as you struggled to keep it together. You thought about how Mark used to kiss you whenever there was a red light, leaning across the dash to tell you he loved you. You used to laugh at the ticklish feeling of his fingers feeling around your jaw to get a better angle to your lips, squealing at him to go when the light changed green.

You felt numb as you sat in your morning bio lecture, heeding no attention to your professor’s voice. Haechan sat next to you, observing your pained expression with concern.

“___, you okay?”

The question only makes you feel worse and you lean your chin weakly against his shoulder. You let out a small whimper, lips trembling as you hid your face in his neck. Grabbing your hand, he led you out of the dark lecture hall. You didn’t have the energy to ask where you were going as he pulled you out of the university science building.

“Give me your keys, I’ll drive,” Haechan directed. You obliged.

Seoul traffic picked up and the two of you sat listening to the radio.

“You wanna go get coffee?,” your best friend asked.

You didn’t answer, listening to the melody of the acoustic music playing on the radio. It reminded you of the song Mark wrote about you all those months ago. Haechan accepted your silence as affirmation and he pulled into a quaint café lot. A white car is parked in front of yours and you think you’re seeing things because it looks like Mark’s. Everything seemed to remind you of him.

You didn’t notice that Haechan got out of the car until he held your door open for you. Numbly, you step out, not taking your eyes off the white vehicle.

It was Mark’s.

Haechan realized the same too late and you were already staring through the café window. There he sat, the person you’ve been dying to see and hear from. Mark sat there and across from him, you recognized the blonde from the party. He left her for you then, but now you couldn’t say the same.

He looked so happy, happier than he was with you in the last months of your relationship, his smile reaching his eyes and his nose scrunching up as he laughed at something she said. Mark’s eyes sparkled as he looked at her. You don’t miss how his hand gripped the edge of the chair behind her back so his arm was almost around her shoulders.

He looked so okay without you.

Haechan pulled you under the small café umbrella as it started to drizzle. You were turned away from the window, out of sight from Mark, but the image was already burned into the back of your head.

“What am I supposed to do, chan?,” you whimpered, letting your tears soak into the taller boy’s chest as he hugged you close, “I still fucking love him”.

This time, he didn’t answer as you gripped onto his tee shirt. He didn't have to as you remembered your best friend’s words from the night before: “It’ll all pass”.

“It’ll all pass,” you thought desperately, although you felt like the sidewalk would swallow you whole. “It’ll all pass,” you repeated, this time out loud, the words feeling like cement as you sobbed into your best friend’s shirt.

It started to rain harder before Haechan spoke, his voice rumbling in his chest against your cheek, “It’ll all be okay one day, I promise”. You held onto these words for dear life.

…

Switching off the television, you shuffle out of the living room to get ready for bed. It’s been a week since then and you still repeat Haechan’s words to yourself every night. They serve as your only consolation to fight against the knowledge that Mark found somebody new. Somebody that isn’t you is making him happy now. Somebody that isn’t you is hearing that they’re special, that they’re beautiful.

Still, you pressed the band-aids to your bullet hole.

“It’ll be okay,” you whisper to yourself as you turn your bedside light off, “It’ll pass one day”. The promises wash around your head until sleep invites you in and finally the dull pain of being awake can be ignored.

The bright light of morning came as a surprise, waking you from your slumber. You shield the golden rays from your eyes with a tired hand, although welcoming the rare sunshine in a month filled with rain. Birds sing their weekend song as you stretch the sleep from your bones. For the first time in a while, your room appeared bright.

Brushing your teeth, you make a peace sign in the mirror at your messy hair. Letting out a single chuckle, you flop your atrocious bun to the other side. For the first time in a while, the ache in your chest doesn’t feel quite as painful. Spitting out your toothpaste foam, you take the time to cleanse your face properly, patting on your favorite moisturizer after.

You brush through the tangles in your hair, looking at your reflection, taking in the first image of yourself trying to heal. It isn’t a lot, but it’s everything.

Strolling to the kitchen, you pour yourself a bowl of cereal. Munching away, you pull open the living room curtains, letting the morning light stream in. There you stand, watching the bumblebees rub against the pink flowers to drink their nectar.

“Cheers,” you whisper, raising your spoon up to the window before bringing it to your lips. Finishing the simple meal, you debate what to do next.

You look to the couch, wondering if it would be okay to sit and waste your day away with netflix. Just then, you feel a buzz from your back pocket.

“____, you free?” the message reads. It’s from Haechan.

You reply that you are and he asks you to come over to hang out together. Looking to the couch then back to your phone, you head down to the door to grab your keys and your license. Before you leave, you pause, looking at the cluttered letters collecting dust on the countertop. Before the door clicks shut behind you, they’re in the trash and the counter smells of lemon disinfectant.

The weather is so nice. You feel the warmth against your face as you walk down to your car. It’s not the rental anymore because Haechan helped you find a used one that you could afford. It’s bright red, your favorite color, and it doesn’t skip when you start the engine.

You cruise down the suburban streets with the windows down to feel the fresh breeze play with your hair. It smells like cut grass and petrichor.

Turning onto the familiar street, you expect your heart to clench at the sight of Mark’s house, but it doesn’t. You press the gas pedal a little harder as you speed past the white car parked in the driveway. Taking a deep breath, you drive past his street.

Maybe it hurts a little, but you don’t cry anymore. You turn the wheel smoothly as you pull onto a different road, just like the way you always practiced. Maybe it hurts a little, but you’re always thankful for the time you had with him. You turn the radio to your favorite channel, letting your body sway to the relaxing guitar tune. Maybe it hurts a little, but you’ll always love the song he wrote about you. Even if Mark doesn’t mean it anymore, someone new could.

Following the route you now have memorized, you steer into your best friend’s neighborhood.

Maybe you’re driving alone, but it doesn’t hurt so much. Not when there’s someone waiting for you.

I know we weren't perfect but I've never felt this way for no one

And I just can't imagine how you could be so okay now that I'm gone

Guess you didn't mean what you wrote in that song about me

'Cause you said forever now I drive alone past your street

Yeah, you said forever now I drive alone past your street

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