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jangofctts · 4 years

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Thing for Trouble (boba fett x fem!reader x din djarin) (part one) (part two) (part three) (part four)

Rated: explicit 18+

word count: 7.6k

warnings: threesome, smut, thigh riding, oral female receiving, handjobs, unprotected sex (dont be a deadbeat, wrap that shCMEAT), light choking, throne fucking, vaginal fingering, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, creampies, pet names, sub? din? more likely than you think (also lmk if I missed any tags!)

a/n: yall im sorry this is such garbage but kjkwejh here we be. I hOPE YOU ENJOY THE CIRCUS. thank you to everyone who’s encouraged this so COME GET YALLS MANDO MEAT

There isn’t much when he it comes to Tatooine and fun things to do. There’s pod acing, drinking, Sabaac tourneys, more podracing, gambling and scavenging. Unless there’s a festival or some wild event, you’re stuck with boredom and whatever you can scrounge up for fun in the palace.

Now, don’t get it wrong—if you had it your way, you’d spend every waking hour trialing behind Boba, but you don’t want to smother. Fennec too—while you enjoy her company, you know that half of the reason she sticks around is Boba’s order for your protection. Kinda ruins the fun when you know she probably only tolerates you because she’s being paid to. Eh whatever—doesn’t stop you from tagging along on as she runs errands in town—besides, today you actually have a reason to be here instead of loitering like a lost puppy.

Fennec tells you to be safe and com her the second trouble rears its ugly head and disappears into the weapons shop—muttering about her prized rifle being jammed or something. You don’t know, all you hear is that you have the entire afternoon to yourself to hunt down your oh so elusive prize. Star cherries.

The markets are always vibrant. Jam packed with people from each and every corner of the galaxy, hundreds of booths and stalls selling their wares that varies from foods to jewelry to even bounty services. Tempting as is it is to peruse the sparkly rows of dainty necklaces and rings or inspect the vast array of beige ponchos and manilla undershirts—you have a purpose. A once a year chance you refuse to let go to waste.

The shabby booth is tucked near the end of the street, the mountain of the little red fruits looking comical compared to the withered old lady who sits beside them. She flashes you a gap-toothed smile, the crowfeet wrinkles surrounding her eyes scrunch with the movement. “Ah! I was wondering when you’d show, dear.”

“Hello, Mrs. Feraan,” you greet, bending at the was it to kiss her wrinkly cheek. The old vender was one of the first kind souls you met here when you arrived on Tatooine. In return for a couple compliments or an offer to be the lab rat to test her new recipes for pie or tarts, she hooks you up with the best of the cherries—handpicked with love. “How’s business today?”

She waves her hand in dismissal, her silver rings glinting in the sun. “Same as always, child.”

Eventually you work your way through the pleasantries and a couple, long winded tangents. The sort that only old people can flawlessly spin and keep you engaged. Trials and tribulations to earn your prize—you don’t mind sacrificing a couple hours.

Finally you’re allowed to walk away—cherries in hand and exceedingly eager for your sweet snack. Unfortunately, suffering through Mrs. Feraan’s old childhood laments is not the only bump in the road you have to face.

Granted, it is your fault—not looking where your feet are taking you—

Your temple crashes into something agonizingly hard. You swear you hear a quiet bonk when your skull collides with the mystery material and fucking hell—you probably have a concussion from the force of it.

Unbothered by your probable brain injury, you’re far more concerned with the cherries spilling onto the ground and so, as you flail and dramatically topple over—the brunt of your fall is cushioned by your shoulder. Something pops and yeah, ok, maybe you just tore a ligament but—kriffing worth it for the cherries you miraculously saved from their dusty graves.

Your temper flares as you spot the dirty brown boots pointed in your direction. Maneuvering yourself up so you don’t also get trampled by the crowd, you bare your teeth and put on your best impression of a terrifying force of nature despite the fact you’ve been knocked flat on your ass. “What the fuck—“

The words shrivel up and die upon your tongue as your eyes slide up the stranger’s legs, broad shoulders sporting the shiny armor that twinkles in the midday suns. They then settle on an all too familiar helmet. Well, sorta—you’re familiar with a certain red and green one, not the equivalent of a wearable disco ball.

You squint as the stranger’s head dips to look at you crumpled at his feet. You dust yourself off and point an accusing finger. “Fuck is your problem standing in the middle of the road?”

The stranger quirks their head. “You ran into me—maybe you should watch where you’re stepping.”

The raspy voice is a striking sound. Mellow and silky even as it passes through the vocoder and dresses it in static charm. Some of your anger melts away—maybe this is the friend Boba was talking about—it’d make sense. They’re wearing the same type of armor…

You shake your head and shove down your pride. You don’t think Boba would appreciate you chewing his ear off. “Sorry—you’re right.”

As you readjust your clothes and precious cherries you introduce yourself with a tiny smile. Yet just as you're about to ask him his name he interjects with a step forward. You flinch away but all he does is sweep back a strand of hair from your forehead, revealing a little nick in the skin. You hiss as his fingertips scrape against it--great, an actual head wound. “Are you alright?”

Maker—here you are, after yelling at him and he finds it in him to be compassionate. You wave away his concerns. “Y-yeah--peachy.”

He apologizes with a dip of his head and words soaked in regret and fuck--now you feel bad. You wrack through your brain and search for last ditch attempts to fix this little mishap and settle with a half baked idea. It’s dumb--but hey, if it works, it works.

“Seriously, it’s fine. But I mean, if you’re so worried, how about you walk me home and we call it even?” You propose, sticking out your hand to seal the deal. If your assumptions are right, he’d just be tailing you the whole way home anyway. “I’m headed towards the palace, so if it’s not too much out of your way then—“

He hesitates and interrupts by taking your hand. “Alright. Deal.”

You smile. “Lovely.”

On the return trip, Din is quiet—tells you his name and responds to your conversation fillers with interested hums—but other than that he remains on the silent end. Intriguing with a rounded softness unlike the armor he wears--a man of mystery much like a certain someone who awaits you back home. Well--Din is less grumpy--by a long shot...but still. It’s easy to spot some of their shared similarities.

-=-=-=-

Upon arriving at the castle you part ways with Din before he reaches the throne room--you’re not too excited about showing off your new battle scar yet and while it was an accident, making an entrance with Din will make it far too easy to link the injury with him. Besides, you don’t wanna risk scaring off your new friend if Boba decides to showcase that tightly sealed lid of anger and brutality.

Instead you take the long way around the palace. Soon, muffled voices carry through the long corridors, growing louder as you work your way back from the kitchens. You round the corner, catching glimpses of Boba and your new friend through the pillars that prop up the low ceiling. You don’t meant to spy, but you do so anyway, hesitant on interrupting.

That is...until Boba cocks his head to the side and settles his eyes onto the pillar you hide behind. “It seems we have a little shadow with us today.”

You suck in a breath as your heart skips in a thrumming pace. Boba addresses you by name and crooks his fingers in a lazy motion for you to step out into the light—revealing yourself to the small party of two. “Come here, little one.”

The low light catches off of Din’s helmet with a glittering sparkle when he swivels his head. The tiny, warped figure of yourself reflects in mirror-like pieces of smelted beskar as his shoulders pull tight with recognition. You bite the inside of your cheek to keep the smile that threatens to crack across your face at bay. Boba is no fool—he excels in the subtleties of shifting eyes and clenched fists to hide anxiety or closely guarded information—sickeningly familiar with your own quirks and tells, but—

There’s no reason to reveal Din’s little secret—not yet. Boba called him a friend but you truly have no clue what the depths of that word entailed. Friend could mean anything from a casual acquaintance, to an old childhood bond, and or anything in between. You sigh and brush past him, mentally congratulating yourself for keeping a cool mask of indifference etched into your features. If Din wants to open that can of worms then so be it—you weren’t the one offering to walk random people home.

You step onto the dais and slide your free hand into Boba’s outstretched palm. The worn leather tickles up your forearm and locks over your elbow, silently demanding you to sit on his lap. There’s plenty of room to both sit on the throne but no—Boba prefers you tucked against the cool metal of his cuirass. You grunt as the bowl of star cherries you cradle dangerously dips when Boba adjusts your weight over his thighs.

His fingers pull back a strand of your hair, tucking it behind your ear and then spider along your jawline. The ends of his mouth quirk as Boba pinches your chin between his forefinger and thumb, capturing your undivided attention. “I don’t like it when you lurk in the shadows, little one. You’re allowed to listen.

You huff. “I know—but lurking is fun.”

Boba releases your chin with a scoff. “Foolish, girl.” You dip your chin with a sheepish grin as heat rushes to your cheeks. You briefly forget about the tiny nick adorning your right temple, the only thing you were trying to keep hidden—but Boba is all too quick to notice. “What is this?”

He pushes your hair out of the way of the cut, inspects it, then curls his fingers around your jaw to demand an answer. You refuse to let your eyes wander over to Din—what a dead giveaway that would be—and instead muster up enough courage to hold the weight of his stare.

“I tripped at the markets,” you say—not a complete lie. “It’s just a little scratch—no biggie.”

Boba squints in suspicion and grumbles a soft hm. You feel his chest rise and fall with a deep sigh—he won’t argue about it right now. Not a battle worth his while when you’re keen on keeping the full truth behind a wall of teeth and anxieties. Boba’s hand falls away, gestures to Din who still stands stiffer than a stature, then lays it over the golden armrest. “I’m sure you’ve noticed our guest—“

Din tips his head in acknowledgement.

“The rightful ruler of Mandalore,” Boba continues. “Din Djarin.”

Din Djarin…despite already knowing his name (or half of it, at least) you like the way it rolls off the tongue—like how it’s seemingly made to be repeated and carved into the walls of some ancient script. Your knowledge on all things Mandalorian is…limited to say the least but you know enough about the rumors.

“Isn’t Mandalore supposed to be haunted?” You don’t mean for your words to be a pointy jab to the ribs but regardless, it strikes a tender chord within the Mandalorian. You wince as Din shifts his weight and clenches his palm—a long story. “Sorry—I—I’m sure your home is lovely, all I know about it are dumb ghost stories about evil wizards and laser swords.”

The blood under your cheeks burn red hot. Great. Not only are you a complete bantha brain, you’ve also managed to sound like an impudent child. Boba soothes a thumb over your thigh as you curl into yourself—bastard. He thinks this is funny.

“It’s not my home,” Din responds, albeit tentatively. “Never been.”

Your brows furrow. Alrighty then.

Boba snorts and shakes his head. He mutters something in Mando’a and lazily waves his hand, dismissing the line of conversation entirely. It was turning into a dumpster fire anyway—

With a slow exhale, you remove yourself from the discussion and instead tuck your head under Boba’s chin. The beskar is cold against your cheek but it feels nice against the sweltering midday heat.

Their conversation fades in and out as you rest your head over Boba’s cuirass, listlessly picking through the bowl of fruit for the ripest ones. You sigh—the next cherry you bring up to your lips is intercepted as Boba’s hand clamps around your wrist and redirects it into his own mouth. You don’t find it in you to be grumpy about the stolen treat when Boba’s tongue slides over your sticky fingers. Still holding your wrist captive, he sucks the tip of your thumb into the warm heat of his mouth and curls his tongue around the digit. Your index finger is given the same treatment before your hand is returned. The beginnings of arousal spark to life below your belly, and fuck—that shouldn’t have been so…so…hot.

Din’s smoky baritone fades into background noise as the entirety of your attention zero’s in on Boba’s mouth. You purse your lips and suck in a shaky breath, then return your hand to the bowl to fish out another fruit. You don’t need any guidance this time around as you bring the cherry to his mouth—the crimson juice spilling down your palm and part of your arm as his teeth pierce the fragile skin. You breath hitches as Boba dips his head, catching the bead of liquid running down your arm with the tip of his tongue, then swiping s a slow trail up, and over the lines of your palm. He plants a careful kiss there, then breaks away.

Before you have the chance to reach for another one, Boba plucks a cherry from the bowl and rests it against the seam of your lisp, inviting you to partake in this little game he’s created. A wicked smirk curls over his mouth as you accept—the tart flavor of the fruit spilling over your tastebuds as you chew and swallow. A little wine escapes you as his leather-clad thumb rolls over your bottom lip, bushes past the barrier of your teeth and seats the digit into your mouth—all the way down to the third knuckle.

You hardly notice the moment Din’s voice tapers off into silence—much too enraptured with the taste of leather and the smooth feel of it over your tongue. You gag slightly when Boba’s thumb reaches the back of your throat, then retreats just as slow. The string of saliva that still connects the digit to your wet mouth, drips over your chin and part of your lip, eliciting a jagged, echoey breath that crackles through Din’s vocoder.

Boba grins—something that better belongs on a sneering jackal just about to pounce on unsuspecting prey with needle sharp talons, rather than his face. His eyes drift up to address his guest. “Do you see something you like, Mand’alor?”

Din’s head jerks, averting his gaze to anywhere but the throne. He murmurs a weak apology and shifts his weight to his other leg—acting as if he were to look at you a second time, it’d burn him to a crisp or force him to confront Boba Fett’s wrath. Obviously, neither thing would happen, but Din still remains unsure with his foothold in this situation.

“I see how you look at her,” Boba drawls—not an accusation, just a statement brought to light. Boba’s hand drops to your thigh, the warm weight of it resting just past your knee as Din swallows his nerves and returns his gaze. “It’s alright—a pretty little thing like her is bound to turn heads.”

A blush hotter than wildfire licks up your cheeks as Din nods in agreement. “She’s beautiful…you’re a lucky man.”

Boba’s grip on your thigh hoards you closer to his chest. He is and he’s fully aware of that fact, but there’s no need to admit such a thing when it’s so blatantly obvious. A lull in the conversation creates a palpable tension—nervous energy and a choice to let this is fade into nonexistence or…or breathe life into that flickering ember of unsaid desires.

Your heart leaps into your throat when Boba shatters the silence and addresses you. “You’re awfully quiet, princess…what do you think?”

He’s placing whatever this is into your hand and leaving you to call the shots. You’ve always been a troublemaker and there’s no will or way as to why you’d stop now. You look between your lover and Din as a smile curls over your face. “I think…if he’s so interested—why not give him a show? After all, he did bring me home—he deserves some reimbursement for the trouble.”

Boba’s shoulders jolt with a chuckle. “How chivalrous.” You shiver as he strokes the back of his finger down your cheek. “Fine, as you wish, little one—go play.”

Giddy excitement bubbles through your chest as Boba offers Din to take a seat on the edge of the dais. Din still has an option to escape, to slip through the cracks and pretend this never happened—but stars, you hope he stays. Din takes a step forward, then another—and another until he’s standing before the throne. He studies the raised edge and gingerly takes a seat.

You abandon your bowl of cherries onto the forearm of the throne and slip off Boba’s lap. You drift over to Din, his gloved fingers clenching and unclenching as they rest over his thigh plating. He’s purposefully avoiding your eye as you kneel beside him—still locked onto that niggling fear that this could be some sort of trick or test in resolve.

Smiling sweetly, you skate your hand over his knuckles—guiding his large palm to your waist and then under and up your loose shirt and bra. Din mutters a curse as you place his palm over your breast. “I’m glad you stayed.”

Pleased with his reaction, you peel off your shirt and bra, breath hitching as Din pinches your nipple between his forefinger and thumb. “Same—I think…”

With a bit more bravery backing his movements, Din pulls away briefly, shucks off his gloves and encompasses both your breasts. They’re warm and calloused, riddled with silvery scars that stand out against his brown skin, a storybook of past battles—won and lost—all equally important to the fibers of his being that stitch him together into a whole. His hand whispers down the length of your ribcage, no doubt feeling the thrum of your heart beating wildly against the cartilage and bone. It tickles over the swell of your hips then—

“You said you wanted to give him a show,” Boba drawls behind you, a sharp twinge of hostility lacing his words. “So enjoy the show, Mand’alor, ’nd keep your hands to yourself."

Din recoils at the verbal reprimand and drops his hands speedier than a flash of lightning. You frown and throw a glare over your shoulder. Bastard. Boba quirks a brow and runs his thumb over his lip, the edged sparkle in his dark eyes taunting you into challenging him. You huff and turn a cold shoulder.

“Sorry, Din,” you purr, scrounging up any and all back up plans to keep you both entertained. “Seems my king isn’t as generous I thought.”

Din withers a bit at the catty remark, keeping his lips sealed tight as Boba growls your name in warning. You don’t pay him any mind.

You puff up your cheeks and release the air in a steady stream, as your eyes scrape over Din’s armored thigh. Ok—you can work with that. It wouldn’t be breaking any rules…not technically. You step away, paw at your waistband and let the breezy fabric pool over around your ankles, your underwear quickly joining the pile.

Now bare, you return to Din’s side, his careful inhale distorted into choppy static as you straddle his thigh. He lifts both hands, intending to grab at your waist, but pauses midair. No touching. You lips tilt with a smirk as he clenches his fists and pins his hands to the cool stone instead, an attempt to curb that urge to reach for you. His shoulders knit together when you mold your hand in the gap between his shoulder pauldron and cuirass to give yourself some sort of balance—obviously not used to a soft touch.

You lower yourself and hiss through clenched teeth. It’s fucking freezing. Goosebumps rush up each limb as the wet warmth of your cunt meets the frigid beskar—the chill much colder than you initially expected. It’s one thing to touch the beskar with an open palm and another thing entirely to feel against such an intimate part of yourself. Din’s visor drops to look between your legs as you give your hips an experimental roll.

It’s different. You’re used to hardened muscle and fabric, or your own fingers while pleasuring yourself. Your breath hitches as Din’s thigh twitches, the smelted seam of the cuisse bumping against your throbbing clit.

“Sorry,” Din mumbles, “Didn’t mean—“

“It’s ok,” you smile, rocking your hips to ease into the sensation. “Just surprised me.”

The pace you set is slow, careful not to overwork your nerves as your arousal blooms and metastasizes like simmering coals low in your groin. With each lecherous pull of your cunt against his thigh, the beskar begins to warm to the temperature of your skin—the wetness between your thighs abating the friction and making the surface slippery. A low gasp escapes you once you find the right ridge and angle that just grinds perfectly against your aching clit. Your fingers dig into the cowl of Din’s cloak.

“Shit—feels good.” Like your voice and little moans jumpstart Din’s ability to move, his large hand drifts to the front of his trousers—an already sizable bulge tenting the dark brown fabric. You squeak as Din's leg jolts for a second time, a burst of dizzying ecstasy wracking up your spine with the choppy movement.

You suck in another raspy breath as your attention drops to his hand that cups his cock and palms himself through his trousers. You chew your bottom lip and clench your fist gripping his cowl, still gyrating your hips over the beska as Din hooks his thumb into his waistband and pulls them down, slow as molasses.

Fucking hell—he’s bigger than you initially imagined. Flushed a rosy brown, and half hard already, twitching as Din wraps his fingers around the thick length. Din lifts his head, gauging your interest or disapproval—but kriff—who the fuck would ever be unhappy with that sorta heat he’s packing? You bite your bottom lip, scouring your brain for ideas to convince Boba into letting you taste Din—but your plotting is abruptly cut short.

Boba sits up and off the throne, his presence looming over your shoulder as he lowers to one knee. You shiver and arch your neck, exposing more of your vulnerable throat as Boba runs the fingertip of his pointer finger down the side of your cheek. “Are you enjoying yourself, princess?”

You nod, eyes fluttering shut as Boba opens his palm and cradles your jaw. You groan and roll your head back onto your shoulders as Boba snakes one hand around your hip and jolts you forward and down—disrupting the slow rock with a catastrophic interference. Unrefined bolts of plasma shoot up your spine as desire licks up thighs—you need more.

Boba dips his head and nuzzles into the crook of your neck. You grunt when his teeth sink into your flesh, worrying a bruise into your skin. Boba laves his tongue over the throbbing area, then licks a wet trail up to the shell of your ear, all the while you continue to grind on Din’s thigh. Boba nibbles your earlobe and whispers your name—the sound sweeter than any symphony could ever hope to make. Like smoke over deep water or the surging crackle of energy just before a thunderstorm high up in the mountains.

“You’re allowed to touch…” he says with a rough chuckle. “Go on.”

Your noise of agreement is quickly muffled as Boba interrupts you with a feverish kiss—all open mouthed and breathless as his tongue curls around yours. Your chest heaves for precious air as Boba retreats just as abruptly as it began. With a satisfied smirk ghosting over his lips, he taps you below the chin and returns to his throne to continue observing.

Dropping your eyes between Din’s legs, his cock, hardened to its full glory and held casually in his calloused hand, is truly a sight. Your pulse thrums in your ears as Din rolls his wrist and pumps his length, the velvety skin shifting over what looks like fucking beskar underneath. It strains towards his navel as you watch with wide eyes, mesmerized with the way he touches himself.

Rolling your bottom lip between your teeth, you touch your hand to his wrist. Din shudders like your skin is made of sizzling embers that’s broken off the tail end of shooting star—like you’re something too luminous and dangerous to be handled by someone like him. You lift your gaze, smiling into that darkened void of the visor and gracing him with a toothy smile. “Will you let me touch you, Din?”

He nods and utters a breathy yes.

Fuck yeah.

Din sucks in a stuttered breath when your hand circles around his thick length. His hips jolt into your palm as you slide your fist to the base then all the way back up. Precum beads over the tip, dribbling down and coating your knuckles with sticky wetness. It eases some of that friction as you fall into an easy rhythm, matching your rocking hips with each pump of his cock.

Din’s stuttered moans fill the small space between you, dragging you closer to your release that’s suddenly so close. He whines as you abandon his length to chase after your high, your arousal leaking from your center and dripping down the sides of the beskar. Din takes his cock into his hands, fisting himself to your little show of breathy wines and rough jerking of your hips over his thigh.

Din says your name attached with a broken moan and it’s over—

Everything seizes up tighter than a jaw clamp as your tumble off that jagged peak of searing, white hot pleasure. It’s raw, sparking off like a blade to metal, burning you from the inside out as you cum. Your cunt clenches around nothing, your thighs shaking as you curl inward as if he punched you in the fucking gut. It feels like he did. Maker—the cool beskar against your throbbing clit is like you’ve been thrown to the mercies of an electrical surge.

It doesn’t help either that Din is still pumping his length, hips stuttering as he brings himself to his own euphoric high. The air in your lungs seizes when a fragile groan, light and airy passes through the vocoder. Din rocks his hips into his fist, once—twice and then he’s throbbing and cumming into his hand. Hot ropes of his release splatter up his chest plate and parts of your thighs, his helmet nearly knocking into you as he hunches foreword from the intensity of it.

Too exhausted to keep yourself upright, you smash your cheek against his cuirass, involuntarily twitching as the last little waves of pleasure prickle through the rest of your nerves. You whine as you watch Din move his hand to collect some of your wetness coating his thigh. He brings two fingers stained with your slick to the lip of his helmet, pushes it up with his thumb just far enough to sink the two digits into his mouth. He groans out a quiet fuck, and repeats the action, swiping his fingers through the mess you’ve made and feeding it to himself. Your cunt clenches as you catch a sliver of his pink tongue that twists between his thick fingers.

He groans and rolls his head back onto his shoulders. “Please—can I taste you? Fuck—I-I need my mouth on you.”

Stars—the mere idea of it stokes the dwindling flames into a blaze of want. You look up at Boba and puff out your bottom lip. Pouting and begging hardly ever gets you what you want under normal circumstances—Boba Fett is more stubborn than a rancor—but you hope just this once he’ll be lenient.

Boba holds out his gloved hand—summoning you to his lap without a lick of protest on your end. Din however makes a sound akin to a whimper when you leave him. Boba gathers you in his arms for the second time, the leather a strange sensation as it spiders down your ribcage and around your hips. You can feel his hardness poking into your backside once you settle against him—his chest plate a cold shock to your naked flesh. You shiver and bury your nose into the crook of his neck, poking your tongue out to taste him. Boba’s cock twitches under you as your teeth sink into him with a cheeky nip.

“Is that what you want, little one?” Boba rumbles in question. His right hand glides lower, grabbing a handful of your thigh and squeezing. You groan and keen out a whine of affirmation.

Boba cocks his head towards Din. “Well? You’ve got your wish—don’t keep her waiting.”

Din shakily stands—hesitating with removing his helmet for enough time that you notice the silence that follows. The vocoder crackles as Din sighs. “Do you trust her?”

“With my life.” Boba states it without a second thought. Your heart twists, golden light spilling from your lungs and staining your insides with devotion and fuzzy affection. You press a soft kiss over Boba’s jaw.

“Is she…” Din speaks a word in Mando’a you have no hope to decipher—either no direct translation or he’s purposefully left you in the dark.

Based on the way Boba almost imperceptibly tenses, you guess the latter. Boba responds with a grunt and an unsure dip of the chin. The answer is complicated—that much you can gather…you push it to the back of you brain for now.

Din nods, inhales, and steels his nerves. Plastering his hands around the shiny helmet, he tugs it off with a slow reveal of dark, patchy facial, plush lips and wavy brown hair that falls around his olive skin. And oh, his eyes—soft chestnut brown eyes that hold such ache within them—lost things, broken bones, wearing his wounds like decoration upon his chest. Forged in the flames of war, risen from the ashes with murder and mercy rolled into one.

You wish him a kinder future. One that doesn’t end with pain and a blaze of an unchecked wildfire—the same way how all heroes end up as martyrs.

Though—right now—you can be the beginning of softer things for Din. You smile and invite him closer, a vortex of anxiety peppered with arousal as his eyes flit over your naked body. He sets his helmet to the side with care and drifts to the foot of the throne—fuck, he’s broad. Why hadn’t you noticed that before?

Your mental berating is severed when cool air meets the wet heat of your cunt as Boba hooks your thighs over his knees, spreading you wide as far as your hips allow. Din’s unfiltered moan at the sigh of you, sends a volt of electricity through every vein. Din lowers himself to one knee, and then the other, shuffling between yours and Boba’s legs.

“Can I touch?” He asks, soft brows raising in question.

Boba lazily raises two fingers in a motion of permission. Your chest tightens at the sight of Din’s boyish grin—warm palms settling over the sharp bend of your knees. His thumbs trace soothing circles over the skin and right as Din decides to swoop down, Boba catches him by the hair atop his head and yanks. Din grunts—the long, arched line of his neck a tempting sight as he swallows. “No marks.” Din’s jaw clenches, but nonetheless, he agrees to Boba’s command.

Boba hums in satisfaction and untangles his fingers from the mess of Din’s soft curls. Din’s brows pinch together for half a tick but smooth out in the next breath. No use being irritated—especially right now.

As directed, Din leaves not a scratch. Instead he scrapes the blunt edges of his teeth along the insides of your thighs, threatening to catch soft flesh between them—but he knows better than to act on the urge. He laves his warm tongue over each freckle or blemish he finds, leaving no patch of skin undiscovered as licks a steady trail to his prize. Din mouths a warm kiss over the crease of your thigh, and smooths his calloused hands over your hips, settling for a moment to trace little circles with his thumbs onto the soft protrusion of bone there. Seemingly satisfied, he then shifts them closer to your aching cunt. His hot breath fans over your cunt as he uses his thumbs to glide through your folds, almost curious with his exploration. He makes a little hum of appreciation low in his throat when the pads of his thumbs part your soaking folds.

You whimper and bury your face into the crook of Boba’s neck, his warm palms a much needed comfort as they tickle down your ribcage, then sweep back up to cup your tits. You cry and arch— Din’s tongue is scalding—like liquid velvet as he dips the tip of his tongue from the base of your cunt all the way up to your clit. Din sucks on the little bundle of nerves, rolling his tongue until you’re crying out, molten pleasure zipping through your abdomen. He grunts as your fingers tangle into his hair—kriff.

Fuck, you need more.

Arching into his mouth, all thoughts are transfigured and molded into a vicious loop—beginning with those adoring brown eyes, the color of freshly tilled earth and the warmth of sunlight over dappled aspen leaves in the balmy summer afternoons. It ends with soft lips—rose petal pink with devotion crystallizing in his mouth like sugar—madness and uncertainty and lovesick desire is all that he is and you’re not sure if you’ll come out of this unscathed.

He sinks two deliciously thick fingers into your clenching hole and curls them, only to retract them a moment later to shovel more of your wetness onto his tongue—as if simply using his mouth wasn’t enough for him. Like he needs to savor every drop of your arousal like the golden ambrosia the gods feast upon in their palaces of cloud and endless twilight.

That frenzied desperation lingers on the edges of his movements like he’s afraid you’ll fade away like a hand through fog—but you’re going nowhere. You’d stay here, suspended in time forever if the choice were up to you.

You whine and arch off Boba’s chest plate as Din strokes and curls his fingertips, plucking little gasps and moans from you easier than breathing. He zeros in on that little spot that makes your leg go all jittery and forces out high pitched mewls that echo through the throne room. You’re careening towards another high, the sensitivity of your last orgasm amping up the influx of pleasure.

“Stars—Din. Close—I’m so close,” you gasp, pulling his hair tight enough that you know it must sting—at least a little bit. He makes no sign that it does, just groans and buries his tongue into your dripping hole, licking alongside his fingers that shovel more of your wetness into his mouth.

Your release zips through your body like a flash flood—quick and fatal that leaves you gasping for air and struggling not to let your head dip below the waves. Your high seeps into each limb until they feel heavier than lead. Fuck—it’s so hard to work through the muddled thought and remember where exactly you are. You groan and toss your head back as Din keeps going.

“Another one—let me—“ He moans, opening his mouth as wide as it’ll go so he can devour more of you. You can feel the mixture of saliva and your own arousal dripping down your cunt and over your thighs, some of it pooling on the throne or onto the floor. Your thighs shake as Din pushes you towards another high.

You squeak as Boba’s palm sweeps up your sternum, locking his fingers around your throat in a loose hold. The tip of his nose nuzzles into your cheek—silently demanding a well earned kiss as his hips rock into your ass, grinding his cock for the barest scrap of friction. You moan into his mouth as Din doubles his efforts, raw and bordering that serrated edge of overstimulation and ecstasy.

Goosebumps rush over your arm as Boba places his lips right beside the shell of your ear. You feel the sticky heat of his breath fan over your throat and shoulder, and the way his lips skim your ear when they move to form the syllables of his words. “Such a filthy princess…”

You clench around Din’s fingers and moan a half garbled, “Boba—“

His weathered palm encompasses the entirety of your breast, rolling your pebbled nipple between his forefinger and thumb. “If only you could see yourself…dripping all over my throne and another man’s tongue.” Boba clicks his tongue and shakes his head. “Depraved creature—cum for your rightful king.”

Wildfire chars your insides as it begins in your core and sweeps through your body. Tears prick the corner of your eyes as you buck and squirm in their arms—no mercy as the prickly waves of your orgasm make you hypersensitive to each touch. Even the hold on your hip, while innocent in nature, is blistering as if you suffered from a fever. You shudder as a salty tear rolls down your cheek. Boba catches it with his tongue as your ears pick up Din’s raspy praise—thanking you while spattering reverent kisses up your thighs.

Struggling to keep your eyes open, you do spot the apparent wetness soaking through the front of Din’s trousers. Fuck—he—he came again while eating you out. You whimper and rest the back of your head over Boba’s shoulder.

Your belly flinches under his scratchy facial hair as Din travels up, seizing and worshiping every inch he’s freely given before intercepted. He catches your nipple between your teeth, tugs a bit then moves to the other, lavishing equal attention with adoring lips and sweet whispers. When he reaches your collarbone, you’re boxed in against his chest plate and Boba’s. A blush blooms under your cheeks hotter than stare fire as Din gingerly sucks your earlobe into his mouth and breathes out a muted moan of your name—committing the very essence of you to his memory for the rest of his days.

Your heart squeezes tight like a clenched fist when he mumbles another thank you. Plucking up a smidge of courage, he risks planting a kiss right on the corner of your mouth. You blink—despite the sweetness of the gesture you wince as Boba snarls a curt phrase in Mando’a. Din peels himself away with a minuscule frown and slinks away.

Yet before you have the chance to remedy the situation of wounded pride and territorial jealousy—Boba tightens his hold on your hips and flips you both, so that now your back is smashed against the seat of the throne, a bit crumpled and sorta folded in half. Your hips hang off the edge as Boba holds the majority of your weight, grinding his clothed cock between the apex of your thighs.

“Don’t forget, princess—” Boba barks, slithering a hand up the column of your throat. You breath hitches as he lightly presses his palm down. “—what belongs to me.”

Reaching between you, he slides his gloved fingers through your slick folds and sinks two of them inside of your clenching center. You jolt as his thumb scrubs over your clit, still sensitive and edging towards too much.

“You want me to fuck you here?” He asks, shifting his hold to grip your jaw instead—the rounds of his fingertips digging firmly into the flesh and bone. “Say it.”

You gasp and scrabble weakly at Boba’s shoulders as he grinds the heel of his palm into your clit. “Please, Boba! Please fuck me—I need it.”

Boba folds over you, his breath fanning hot and hungry against your cheek. He devours your mouth with a discordant edge, like he’s trying to prove to the entire galaxy you are unmistakably his despite the fact you’re already wound so tightly around his fingers. Boba wrenches himself free and tears at his robe and trousers to free his thick length, leaking and flushed a rosy brown at the tip. He doesn’t keep either of you waiting as he removes his fingers and replaces them with something bigger.

You both groan as he lines himself up with your entrance and sinks into you, a delicious stretch that leaves you shivering beneath him. “Fuck—so wet for me.”

The first roll of his hips makes an obscene noise that showers shame down your throat, but it’s quickly kicked to the back of your brain as he slams back into your cunt—obliterating all thoughts save for him. Boba’s lip curls over his teeth as he claws at your thighs and yanks them over his shoulder, crushing you even further between the throne and the weight of his body. Each stroke is a liquid fire, tearing you apart at the seems while at the same time stitching you back together and leaving your body begging for more. Like this, it’s as if he’s reaching the deepest part of you, pounding into your cunt and hitting every nerve with deadly precision. Your legs prickle with the stretch as you squirm beneath him, stuck with the brunt of rough thrusts and violent stamina with nowhere to go.

“Bein’ such a good girl for me." He hums into the juncture of where your neck meets your shoulders. He sucks a mark there and tangles a hand in the hair at the nape of you neck, forcing you into a steeper arch. “Maker, you look so fuckin’ pretty stretched around my cock.”

Your walls clench tight around him as you dig your nails into the fabric of his cowl. You voice cracks with airy moans—attempting to work through the haze of lust and respond. All that tumbles from your lips is a pathetic whine of his name—so close to that precipice again.

The friction of each thrust scraping against your clit, the way he fills you and the possessive hand curled over your throat. You wiggle an arm between your bodies and rub the little bundle of nerves in a frenzied half-circle. You wheeze as Boba increases the pressure over your throat.

“Tell me who you belong to,” he demands as devastating ripples begin to spark through your core, a live wire an inch away from a puddle of water. “Tell me—“

“You! It’s you—“ You sob, desperate for another release only he can give. “I’m yours—“

Boba snickers and gives your throat another squeeze. “Cum on my cock.”

There we go.

You seize and cry out, violent shivers forcing your back to arch high off the throne and into his chest plate. It tears through your being, quick and deadly through your core, spreading to every nerve and shredding through it with molten pleasure. Boba’s voice is a gravelly scrape that vibrates next to your ear, sprinting towards his own deserved euphoria. Your climax still boiling through your blood, is dragged out as Boba continues thrusting—an endless echo that leaves you incredibly oversensitive sore. For the next few moments, his thrusts are too sharp, the grip he has on you too abrasive—but then he’s cumming too. A couple more rough jabs and then he’s seating himself deep inside your cunt, his warm release coating your insides with thick ropes.

You’re panting breaths fill the air between you, settling like fresh snow over a silent wood. By the time Boba pulls out, leaving behind a sticky trail of his cum and your arousal over the throne, you’re toeing the line of hazy unconsciousness.

“Such a good girl,” Boba praises, threading fingers through hair and tracing the lines of your face. The the soft drone of his voice mixed with Din’s gentle baritone, murmuring something you don’t catch, casts a dreamy haze over your reality. You’re not afraid that this could back fire and blow up in your face—to move inches from two serrated blades, each seeking for a taste of blood and flesh, is always a risk. But yet, the calloused hands and the sweetness of brown eyes reach through chaos and silence to offer you salvation. You take it with a smile.

You should invite Din over more often…you think, as you slip into content sleep.

taglist: @goldafterglow @djxrxn @velvetmel0n @steeeeeeeviebb @stargazingcarol @ohiobluetip @anxiety-riddled-mando @absurdthirst @thesoftdumbass @huliabitch @max--phillips @silverfish-kingdom @krissology @teaofpeaches @pettyprocrastination @nelba @beskars @jango-fettish @corrupt-fvcker @maybege @auty-ren @legally-a-bastard @bigdickdindjarin @thesparkleslugs @cryptid-candy @mandowhorian @pascaliprincess @mitchi-c @vesperstalksclones @cmakars @cptnbvcks @whewchiles @leias-left-hair-bun @astrochellie @angryares @rise-my-angel @stardust-galaxies @phoenixhalliwell @samhollandssweaters @blue-writes-a03 @hdlynnslibrary @darthadeline @calamity-queen @luxurybeskar @justanotherblonde23 @book-hoardingdragon @fahrenheit-not @princessxkenobi @skdubbs @ben-is-a-hoe @3strogen @chasingdreamer @weebblossom @bobaandthefetts

sorry if I missed you AH!!!!

#well yall im #bucket fucker supreme right here I guess #enJOY #boba fett x reader #boba fett x you #boba fett #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian #boba fett x reader x din djarin #din djarin x reader x boba fett #star wars fanfiction #my writing

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lady-literature · 4 years

Text

ayy, so ya’ll know that Miraculous/DC crossover I screamed about a while back? I found plot for it.

It is not quite finished yet, but it’s also so much longer than I originally planned on it being. (me: I’ll just write a fun little thing to get this out of my head!

me, 13k words later: oh no)

SO! Here’s a little sneak peak!

(or, find the finished product here!)

***

There is an unspoken rule, kept by any outsider who’s ever set foot in Gotham, that you should only ever visit the city once. Most find that visiting even once was already too much.

The most dangerous city on earth isn’t kind to its residents—much less strangers who don’t know how to watch their pockets or keep off the streets after dark. It’s gotten better, perhaps, in recent years since the Bat started lurking on rooftops, but that doesn’t mean the city is good.

Normal people stay as far from Gotham as they can get.

Marinette, (un)luckily, is far from normal.

***

The touring of Metropolis, New York City, and Gotham had been going well as far as Marinette was concerned, no matter what Chloé says to her about carelessness and naivety.

She’s glad her, Adrien and Chloé all decided to take this summer trip before they started University in the fall. It sucks that it was just the three of them, she wishes more of their friends could’ve tagged along but, alas, it wasn’t meant to be.

Kagami was in the middle of training season and couldn’t come. Luka was touring with his father, learning the tricks of the trade and other things. Nathaniel had already been commissioned to paint a mural downtown before they really finalized dates. Nino was in much the same boat as Nath, just with music and pitch meetings. Felix hated traveling and Alix was doing… something. Time travelling, probably. Or at least spending more time in the burrow.

Marinette was certainly starting to notice the way she’s begun talking about ancient history like she was actually there when she goes on rants now. Felix also probably noticed but Marinette’s also sure that he’s aiding and abetting her in exchange for insider information so…

She’ll probably have to deal with that later, unfortunately. But not today.

Their tour group was going to Amusement Mile later that afternoon, but had been given free roam until then. Marinette decided to spend the time up until lunch at the park near the meetup spot in Gotham Square and Chloé hadn’t complained or vetoed that idea so the trio happily camped out on the grass.

Marinette had returned to her sketch of Lady Gotham in between eating bites of her sandwich. She thinks she much preferred the style of it to New York City’s Lady Liberty. There was just something about the Statue of Justice that inspired her.

She’d been doodling about it since they left the marina yesterday. She also had plenty of pictures of the statue for inspiration later. There’s one she especially likes and thinks she might even print out to put up on her wall at home.

She’s playing with the idea of draping fabrics for formal wear designs like the roman togas both Lady statues seem to wear when a tennis ball rolls up and bumps into her leg. She has only enough time to move her sketchbook out of the way before a large dog bowls into her, tail wagging happily and barking up a storm.

“Oof!”

Adrien’s already halfway up the tree, startled out of his light doze by the barking and Chloé only daintily moved away from Marinette, leaving her to her fate.

Pushing herself back up so she’s not crushed by what feels like one hundred pounds of dog, she comes face to snout with quite possibly the biggest dog she’s ever seen. From there, there was really only one choice of action Marinette could have followed.

“Oh! Well, aren’t you just the prettiest boy?” she tells the dog happily, reaching up to give him scratches. “Such a big boy! You nearly bowled me over, didn’t you?”

If it’s possible, the dog’s tail begins to wag even faster, enough that he accidentally overbalances himself and decides to roll with it, flopping onto his back and letting her rub his stomach. Marinette does so enthusiastically, her baby-talk to the dog devolving into broken not-words and the occasional exclamation of good boy! in both English and French.

The dog was a great dane, and had the softest coat of black fur she’s ever seen. There was a thick red collar around his throat, and Marinette stopped furiously rubbing his belly long enough to look at the silver tag attached to it.

“Titus, huh?” she says to the dog. “Such a strong name for such a distinguished boy, huh?”

“Oh god,” she hears Adrien groan from his spot still up in the tree. When she looks up, she finds him eyeing Titus with distrust, the absolute kitten. “I hope whoever his owner is, they’ve never read Shakespeare.”

Both her and Chloé blink at the strange non sequitur.

“Uh, why? Exactly?”

“Because they have shit taste in his plays if they do! Titus Andronicus is, like, Shakespeare’s worst play.”

Chloé glares up at him. “You’re such a nerd. Now stop being ridiculous and get down from there.”

“But, Chloé! It’s a dog.”

“Adrien Agreste!”

Marinette tunes out the two blondes as they devolve into sibling-like bickering. It’s a skill she’s had to learn and learn quickly with living in such close quarters with the pair for the last few weeks and also being friends with the pair for the past three years.

“Speaking of your owner, I wonder where they are?” She scratches under Titus’ chin thoughtfully. “Should we go look for them?”

Titus' head flops to the side, almost like he’s listening for something, before he’s clambering up onto his feet to tower over her. He’s almost twice as tall as she is sitting, which is just ridiculous. Why is everything in America so big?

Getting to her feet herself, Titus still stands almost as tall as her. She can rest her elbow on his back when she grabs his collar to make sure he doesn’t run off. He leads mostly, pulling her along at a steady trot she has to jog to keep up with.

He truly was such a well behaved dog and certainly lived up to his breed’s reputation as a gentle giant.

Or at least she thought so, until the call of “Titus! Here!” echoes through the park and he goes racing off towards it, dragging Marinette along for the ride no matter how much she tries to slow down.

Titus comes to a skidding stop, and Marinette barely stops herself from falling by keeping her arm around Titus.

“And who are you?”

Looking up, she finds a young man, probably around her age, staring down at her. He does not look happy—but most Gothamites don’t, Marinette’s found. He’s also, despite the almost glare he’s giving her, very attractive.

When she opens her mouth, incoherent French comes tumbling out, much to her embarrassment.

Ah. ‘Not being able to speak coherently to people she finds attractive’, she had wondered where that particular personality trait had been as of late. Even after so many years hanging around people who should be—and are—super models, she still acts like a spaz. Why is she like this?

The man raises an eyebrow at her, looking very unamused.

She tries again. “Ah- Je suis- I mean, I am very sorry. Your dog found me sitting over there with my friends and I figured I should find his owner instead of letting him just wander around and I assume your his owner because if you aren’t this is very embarrassing for me. Not that it wasn’t embarrassing before but, oh, I’m definitely rambling and I’m going to shut up now.”

Pressing her lips together as tightly as humanly possible so her tongue will stop making horrible life decisions, she holds Titus’ bright yellow tennis ball out to his owner.

The man huffs, taking the ball from her hand. “I didn’t ask for your life’s story.”

Marinette blinks and then frowns. Her hand tightens around where she’s still holding onto Titus’ collar and she has to very carefully unclench her hand before she breaks it or something.

“I didn’t give it,” she says through clenched teeth, embarrassment abruptly forgotten. There’s no need for the man to be rude.

He scoffs. “Could’ve fooled me.”

She doesn't really have anything to say to that. Instead, she turns to Titus, who’s sitting like the good boy he is. She very seriously leans down to eye level—she does not have to lean down far—and tells him, “Your owner is an ass. But you are still a very good boy.”

She plants a kiss to his forehead that makes his tail wag, gives him one last scratch behind the ears and walks back towards her friends without looking back at the rude man.

***

Colonel Bug: so I met kagami and felix’s lovechild today

MY HONOR: I would never stoop so low.

the evil twin: I would never stoop so low.

ShutUpTurtleMan: Nettie

dearest

the evil twin: Okay first of all-

ShutUpTurtleMan: sunshine

light of our collective lives and reason I breathe

what the fuCK

YoureUnderAgreste: Kagami, my love, how could you?

The Betrayal™

GottaGoFast: ew

Queen of Salt: ew

sneaky snake: Send pics or it didn’t happen

give me art or give me death: [a photo of the ‘right in front of my salad?’ meme]

Queen of Salt: wait

I was with you all day when did this happen?

was it the owner of the dog that attacked you?

ShutUpTurtleMan: WHAT

Colonel Bug: he didn’t attack me!

chloe stop spreading misinformation!

titus was a sweetheart!

YoureUnderAgreste: incorrect

he was, in fact, a menace

give me art or give me death: wait was Titus the dog or the lovechild

ShutUpTurtleMan: ^^^ ?

Colonel Bug: shut up adrien

all animals are great

stop being elitist

give me art or give me death: okay but seriously what kind of dog was it

the evil twin: why exactly was he our lovechild?

GottaGoFast: because of the dramatic tryst you and Kagami had obviously

keep up

Colonel Bug: because he was as pretty as he was rude actually

And gave me the feeling that he’d rant about his honor and parentage if it given the chance

MY HONOR: you say something once as an unsocialized teen

GottaGoFast: MARI YOU DOG!

ARE GETTING TAIL IN GOTHAM OF ALL PLACES?

Colonel Bug: no alix

did you not read the part about how rude he is

YoureUnderAgreste: i mean,,,,,

Felix is pretty rude and we all still like him

ShutUpTurtleMan: and Chloe

YoureUnderAgreste: oh good point nino

Colonel Bug: i hate it here

i spoke to him for like 2 seconds

Queen of Salt: Okay first of all-

YoureUnderAgreste: so i mean it’s not really a dealbreaker yaknow?

Colonel Bug: this familys a nightmare

i shoulda left you all on the street corner where i found you

YoureUnderAgreste: BUT CHA DINDT

ShutUpTurtleMan: but yA DIDNT

GottaGoFast: BUT CHA DIDNT!!

sneaky snake: but ya didn’t

***

I have every no regrets. stay tuned for more!

#my typewriter #miraculous ladybug #batfam #maribat #daminette #mlb #dc #mlb x dc

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sweetpeasgirl · 4 years

Text

Treat You Better | Sweet Pea

Description: Based on the song “Treat You Better” by Shawn Mendes, Jughead and Y/n’s relationship is at it’s bittersweet end and Sweet Pea, her best friend, is there to defend her

Word Count: 2.3k

Pairing: Sweet Pea x Female!Reader

Warnings: Kinda angsty but not really

Tags: Angst, FLUFF

The White Wrym is not where you thought you would spend your Saturday night but Jughead had said that he needed to take care of a few things and you didn't want to be blown off again. You understand that he's busy, you really do. He's the son of the former Serpent leader; of course he's going to have a lot more on his plate. You just didn't think he'd push you off of it- the plate.

Sweet Pea had warned you about that. It was the latest topic of argument between you. For best friends, the two of you fight a lot. You know he's just trying to look out for you, that's been his role since the two of you were kids. He's in the grade above you, and was originally your older brother's friend, but they fell out a couple years ago. He never left you though.

He's always been the one watching your back. At first he just kept you out of harm's way, whether that be from grade school bullies or the men who lurk in alleyways when you're trying to walk home. Now, though, he has to watch out for boys who say they care about you but don't. He has to watch out for heartbreak.

That's where Jughead comes in. Sweet Pea is just being his overprotective self, like usual. Sure, you've had your fair share of walking out into the busy street with your head down, and he's had to pull you back quite a few times, but this is different. He can't save a heart that's supposed to break. Jughead does care about you, or at least he did when you first got together last year. Some things, however, just aren't meant to last forever.

Forever is a long time and time has a funny way of changing things.

"Juggie, it's your turn," your voice is quiet as you hand him the wooden pool cue, trying not to draw attention to yourself.

It's cold in the bar and you had been alerted so suddenly that date night was getting moved here that you didn't have time to grab a sweater. You can feel the stares burning into uncovered shoulders. It puts you on edge as Jughead accepts the cue from your shaky hands and takes his shot absentmindedly. Something's going on in his head, you can tell by the way he furrows his eyebrows and watches the people around him.

You, meanwhile, are trying hard not to look anywhere but the green felt of the pool table. There's commotion all around you. Shouts can be heard from the bar and the sound of smashing bottles that accompanies them. There's laughter coming from somewhere else but it doesn't sound friendly. Whatever it's about is cruel; it’s something that should not be made a joke of.

You're definitely way out of your comfort zone. Hell, you're way out of your un-comfort zone. You're just plain scared and, with the lack of conversation that Jughead is providing, the regret is bubbling quick in your chest. You almost wish he would just break up with you so you can cry and move on already.

"Jughead," a loud voice breaks the awkward silence around the crowded pool table, "there you are boy. We can finally discuss what you wanted to talk about now."

A tall, middle aged man with light brown hair and a weeks worth of beard growth pats your boyfriend on the back. Jughead shoots you an apologetic look as he passes the pool cue back to you once more. Your blood runs cold as he starts to walk in the opposite direction with the newcomer. He's seriously leaving you alone, in a room full of people who honestly aren't the safest characters, on what was supposed to be your night. Something happened to the boy you first knew and this just settled what you already thought. It’s over.

Your eyes blur with unshed tears at the hurt and fear circulating through your veins. He disappears from sight and the dark atmosphere gets hazier as you grip the side of the table to keep yourself steady. You can once again feel the stares burning into your back. It's like they were waiting for you to be left unattended. When you're with Jughead, the heir of the Serpent crown, you can't be touched. When you're with Sweet Pea, their deadly warrior, you can't be touched. When it's just you, though, anything goes.

You don't know what to do. It's only a matter of time before someone approaches you and when that happens you'll be in a situation that you probably won't be able to get yourself out of. That's the one thing your mother always told not to do; never put yourself into a situation that you can't get out of. Sweet Pea would not be happy.

"Y/n, what the hell are you doing here?"

Case in point. You jump at the sound of his voice but spin around instantly and bury yourself into his chest nonetheless. The tears fall down your face before you can stop them but you really couldn't care less. The smell of leather and pine surrounds you and warmth finally fills your body. Apparently you're colder than you had originally thought.

The relief that fills you is unmeasurable and you cling to Sweet Pea tightly, "It was supposed to be our night but-” you hiccup, tugging on his jacket- “I didn't want to miss another date night-” another hiccup- “I didn't want to-” you rub your forehead against his chest, your voice now just a whisper- “he left."

Your thoughts come out scrambled and between ugly sobs but it's enough for Sweet Pea to gather the overall picture of what happened. After all, he has been doing this for a while. He tightens his arms around you, the anger radiating off his uncovered skin in heated waves.

"He left you? Here?" Sweet Pea is seething when he pulls back.

He lifts you to sit on the edge of the pool table, the game laying discarded behind you. The visual reminder only makes the tears come faster and the warmth leave your bones again. You start shivering but this time you can't steel yourself enough to stop, the realization dawning before you can lie to yourself again. You and Jughead are done. You have been for a long time now and everyone else saw it before you did.

"Pea, we're over," you can't raise your voice above a harsh whisper, covering your raw face with your hands to suffocate the onslaught of cries you can feel bubbling to the surface, "we're over now. You were right."

You close your eyes to avoid staring into Sweet Pea's murderous chocolate ones. All you feel now is the ice circling your veins.

"Baby, hey," a large jacket that smells too much like Sweet Pea to not belong to him is draped over your shoulders, "it's okay. We'll go home."

The anger seeps out of his voice and you peer up to see the concerned face of your best friend once more. He's looking at you in the same way he was the time fell out of Jughead's tree house. You had blacked out from the fall and woke up in the hospital with a broken leg. He was so scared that he didn't leave your side for a minute. But it's different now, you're not physically hurt, so he shouldn't look worried.

You let out a sorrowful breath and just nod your head, a deep weariness settling over your being. At least you're getting what you had wanted. A clean break.

"Y/n, can we talk?"

You hadn't noticed Jughead come back but now he stands a little behind Sweet Pea who is still in front of you. Sweet Pea instantly turns at the sound of his voice, the rage back and in full swing. You just lower your head, too tired to keep it up.

"Jones you're so lucky I'm not beating the crap out of you right now. I didn't think you were stupid enough to leave her here but I guess I was wrong! You're just lucky I happened to be here. And that she doesn't hate you." Sweet Pea spits his words at Jughead

"Look, man, can I just talk to my girlfriend?" Jughead's voice is monotone, both of you knowing he's just calling you his so that he can officially end it once and for all.

It's for the best and you both know it. His phrasing, however, doesn't go over well with Sweet Pea.

"Are you serious right now? Or is this a sick joke? You forfeit that title when you left her as free game for anyone in this place,” Sweet Pea steps towards him and you hold your breath, knowing quite well who would win the fight if one were to ensue. “You're dating the most beautiful girl in this shitty town and you treat her like she doesn't even matter! If it was me she wouldn't be crying on a damn table, she would know damn well just how much I love her!"

Your head snaps up at his words, your breath hitching in your throat. The commotion of the bar is drowned out around you and all you can see is Sweet Pea's back. He can't really love you, can he? He's just making a point, being the best friend he always has been. The logic makes sense to you but you can feel your heart breaking for the second time tonight because of it.

You place a hand on Sweet Pea's shoulder, drawing his attention back to you, "it's okay Pea, I should talk to him at least."

He doesn't look happy but he nods, helping you off the table and moving to the side to let you pass. You look at Jughead and toss him a melancholy smile. It's wrapped with bittersweet memories from all your late night's at Pop's and early mornings coming back from the drive-in. Jughead and you had some pretty good times despite your inevitable end. Maybe, just maybe, though, you can make it a peaceful end.

"Y/n I do love you," Jughead takes his beanie off and runs his hand through his already messy, raven locks, "but not like I did before. Somewhere between moving here and, well, taking on the role of my dad I let us fall apart. I'm sorry."

"It's okay Juggie. I probably wasn't putting as much effort in as I could have," he scoffs at that, a guilty smirk on his face.

You both know that you gave this relationship your all. But, standing here now with Sweet Pea's eyes searing into your back, it's pretty clear that your heart was forming attachments with another person. Which means that sooner or later you and Jughead would have fallen apart anyway. Sometimes these kinds of things are no one's fault. It's a mutual heartbreak and when it needs to happen, it needs to happen.

"You know, y/n, I don't feel too bad about losing you to him."

You furrow your brows at his comment, your voice cracking slightly when you speak, "what do you mean? He was just saying all that stuff. Pea doesn't love me."

Jughead rolls his eyes and glances quickly at Sweet Pea before walking closer to you. You can tell he doesn't want him to hear what he's about to say.

"Y/n that boy is in over his head. It's a feeling I can relate very much to but listen to me," his eyes capture yours in a serious stare, "he's going to treat you better than I ever could. He's not going to leave you in dangerous situations or bail on plans. Can't you see he'd take a bullet for you?"

Your heart races at his words and you spare a glance at Sweet Pea. He's already looking at you, the worry back in his mesmerizing eyes. He raises an eyebrow at you, pulling a smile to your lips. Maybe Jughead is right. Maybe you love Sweet Pea as more than a best friend.

Looking at him now, his tanned skin glowing under the dim lights and his dark brown hair pushed behind his ears, there's no doubt in your mind that you're attracted to him. Sweet Pea has always looked handsome in your eyes, even after a fight with purple bruises staining his face. You think back to all the times he's been there when you needed him most. That boy drops whatever he's doing when you call; no matter if you're just bored or looking for someone to nap next to he’s there next to you. You've always felt at home when you're with him. Hell, you have a drawer in his room devoted to your clothes.

Sweet Pea loves you and you're pretty damn sure that you love him too.

Turning back to Jughead, you nod your head, "I'd take one for him too."

"Good. I think I'll leave now. Thanks for everything, y/n," Jughead pulls you into one last hug before heading out the door.

You pull Sweet Pea's jacket tighter around you as you walk back towards him. He gathers you once more into his chest and you let the last of your tears fall. There will never be a time when parting isn't such sweet sorrow. It's the beginning of something new but also the end of something that you once thrived on. However, wrapped completely in Sweet Pea's scent, you've never felt like you belonged somewhere so much.

"Ready to go home baby?"

"Yeah Pea. Let's go home."

#Sweet Pea #sweet pea riverdale #sweet pea x reader #sweet pea x you #sweet pea x y/n #sweet pea imagine #riverdale #riverdale imagine #jughead jones #riverdale series #reader insert

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a3shithole · 4 years

Note

Hi♡! I saw your blog while lurking the A3! Headcanon tag.

I don't know if the request are open so be free to ignore this if not.

May I request Masumi with a childhood friend s/o?

I am sorry and thanks~!

Welcome to my blog dear anon! I'm always open for request (unless I stated otherwise) (๑꧆◡꧆๑)

I'm a sucker for childhood friend trope! Masumi is quite challenging to write, but I hope I did him justice (PД`q。) I'm doing this in headcanon form!

Here's a Masumi with a childhood friend s/o! Hope everyone enjoys it! Stay safe and have a nice day 🌻

- You two attend the same elementary school

- You were the one who approached him first. He's that one quiet kid that were feared by the class, yet also adored by some

- You had no idea why you wanted to be his friend. He's hard to approach, but you are persistent and ended up being his best friend

- You two went to school together every morning, and Masumi being Masumi, you ended up being the one who woke him up and drags him to school every day

- You hang out in his house a lot since his parents are always overseas. You met his grandma couple of times

- Sometimes you drag him to your house for a sleep-over. You didn't want him to be alone in his house

- He never complains about you dragging him around. Even from an outsider's eyes, it seems like you are forcing him to go with you. While in reality, he naturally follow you around and enjoy every second being with you

- "I need to go to the bathroom."

- "Let's go."

- "But you went to the bathroom already...?"

- You're lying if you didn't have a crush on him. You always push that feeling away and conclude it as platonical love since you two are best friend since elementary

- Growing up together, you know he never shows interest in anything and often seems cold. You're used to that. But with that cold exterior of his, he's a nice and caring guy, with his own unique way of showing so

- "I already prepared this table for us."

- "Masu, we don't need a table for six when there's only two of us. Others need to eat their lunch too!"

- One day you are singing along to your favorite song while doing stupid dance and do you imagination little concert in your bedroom

- You didn't know how long he's been in your room. But when you finally notice his presence, that was the first time you saw the boy with an awestruck expression

- He bluntly said he loves your voice and told you he want to listen to your singing voice every day

- He even said he'd wake up without problem if you sing to wake him up. Which you highly doubt will work

- Until one day you actually tried it and he actually jumped off of his bed from his deep slumber with a big puppy eyes

- You ended up introducing him to your favorite band and show him a lot of music genres

- On one of his birthday, you gave him a high quality headphones as his present

- You gave him birthday present every years, but this is your first time you saw him blushing and stared at you with dreamy eyes

- And that's when he caught you off guard

- "Marry me."

- You were so confused and a total blushing mess. Where did all of this come from? You took it as him exaggerating from the present you gave him

- You told him jokingly that you two need to go on dates before you two can marry each other. Little did you know, he took your words seriously.

- He took you on various dates, from amusement park to fancy dinner. You really enjoy it. Your denial side finally disperse and totally embrace the fact that you like him more than just a friend

- On the fancy dinner date, he finally ask you, with one knee on the floor while holding a ring that looks way too expensive and more suitable for marriage, "I love you. Please let me be your boyfriend."

- Of course you accepted him, but you told him to keep the ring until you two actually marry each other in the future. He agrees, surprisingly

- You two are officially a couple

#a3!#a3 #a3! act! addict! actors!#act! addict! actors!#a3 x reader #a3 imagines #a3! masumi #masumi usui #usui masumi #usui masumi x reader #masumi usui x reader #reader insert #masumi x reader #a3! imagines #headcanon

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local-ground-apple · 4 years

Note

Azul - I don’t play the game

I literally had it written for months now and low-key want to do more parts

i wouldn’t say it’s necessarily yanderish, yet just in case i’m tagging this like this

Up and down a lot, I can’t control myself One thing is for sure I don’t play the game

,,I can make any dream of yours come true. Of course, you will have to pay the sufficient price in return. Now…”

Azul eyed your determined form who refused to sit down and continued to stand right before his desk. Oh, how your hands were curled into fists, your rosy lips formed in thin line, your eyes looking at everyone but never stopping on his form.

You truly were the poor, unfortunate soul.

And Azul finally had the chance to get you to sign his contract.

Being the first magicless human from a different world, his attention rested on you from the very start your feet crossed the school’s entrance. After weeks of subtle suggestions, seemingly not-binding invitations to Mostro Lounge, brushing his fingers innocently over your hand as if he was trying to seduce you into golden contract, his patience was slowly beginning to fade.

Oh, how deeply he wanted you to sign your fate, just so greedy octopus could have you all to himself.

His lips curled into delicate smirk an the mere thought that you came here willingly, even passing through twins who tried to politely and not subtly shove you from the door to his office, as Azul was having a customer. He was almost impressed as you bursted through the door, not caring about other unfortunate soul made your way to his desk slamming the paper on his desk and demanding a contract.

It was almost cute how you thought you could present your own demands or thought you could have the upper hand.

How amusing.

But one glance in your eyes, made Azul realize that you were fully aware that you were about to willingly handle your soul to a devil himself. He frowned a bit, gesturing twins with a wave of his gloved-hand to excuse the client from the room.

,,What is your wish, Y/N?”

His sultry voice resonated through the room cutting the silence as soon as the door closed behind Floyd.

,,It’s written there”

You said glancing at the paper laying right before Azul who didn’t even bother to spare a glimpse on it. He leaned forward, cutting the distance of the desk between you two, almost making you slightly uncomfortable. He merely chuckled, his eyes carefully scanning your figure.

,,I would prefer to hear it from you, so what do you want?”

,,I want Jade”

With those three words you had managed to break the collected and calculative façade of businessman he was maintaining in front of you

You had enough.

Enough of his sugar-coated words trying to lull you into contract, twins lurking whenever you went out, Azul’s gloved-hands which grazed your fingers more possessively each time and you were sick of openly shady invitations.

Enough of unfortunate situations you recently have been encountering and yellow eyes following you everywhere you went. You knew it was a perfectly staged play in which Azul made both of you main characters.

You simply feared how the closing act would end for you, so you decided to make the first move towards your doom.

“I don’t play a game”

You could sense that the whole game, Azul craftily prepared for his own amusement, was slowly heading towards the end. The suffocating grip of his tentacles was gradually tightening around your throat and you knew you were running out of time.

Crowley seemed nowhere near finding your way home and you were on your own to attempt to outsmart the greedy octopus.

You prepared your own mere version of contract knowing very well that Azul was more than ready to offer you his, which he had prepared the moment you stepped into Night Raven Academy.

You knew what Azul wanted and you were set on not giving it to him.

,,Pardon?”

Azul managed to coldly spit out through his set lips, making you feel slightly more confident seeing that you had just managed to surprise businessmen. Maybe, he wasn’t ready to handle you, as he had previously thought.

,,You heard me well. I. Want. Jade. May it be an intimidating talk from you, actual order or love potion – I’m benevolent enough to let you choose”

Your carefully chosen and prepared in advance words made Azul chuckle. His hand found his way under his chin as his elbow rested on desk. He leaned even more forward, making you take a step back, only assuring octopus that you weren’t as confident as you tried to present yourself.

He could almost hear how fast your heart was beating, practically ready to jump out of your chest. Swift motion of his head in the direction of nearest chair invited you to take a seat. You tried to politely refuse but his cold glare combined with amused smirk plastered on his lips made you rethink your choices.

,,I insist. I think we may take our time discussing the details of the deal”

You only nodded, sitting impatiently on the chair. Crossing your legs, you began tapping nervously your fingers on your thighs. Your instincts were telling you to make a run for it, but you were smarter than that. You knew very well that even if you reached the door, behind them were twins eagerly waiting for you to shove you inside once more.

You watched his eyes carefully skipping through the contract you had prepared not omitting the fine print, taking his time. Scanning every word, looking for any loopholes or traps you could have set.

You hadn’t.

Your contract at first seemed crystal clear, impeccable, without any holes in fine print which made Azul suspicious.

For him, it seemed as if you wanted to give him the taste of his own carefully crafted contracts. It seemed so familiar, even phrasing of the words sounded as if they were brought to life with his pen. You surely must have taken your time researching on his previous deals and carefully planning every detail you wanted to be in it.

Why wasn’t he aware of how you had passed your free time?

Azul frowned, it seemed like Leech twins decided not to mention that you had been preparing a contract. He sighed deeply deciding to bring up that situation later, it wasn’t the crux of this matter anyway.

Oh, your attempt to seduce him into contract made him want you even more.

What an interesting and bold human you were walking on the thin ice which would soon crash underneath your weight.

Azul’s attention shifted from the paper to your face. You were desperately trying to maintain calmness but your nervously tapping fingers, eyes filled with worry and anticipation betrayed you.

,,Let’s hurry up and wrap it up, what do you want in return?”

You asked. Azul didn’t hesitate any second to answer your question.

,,My, my, impatient aren’t we? But as you stated in your contract, you already know what I want”

Amused smiled found his way on his lips as he leaned forward, cutting the distance between you two. His hand gripped your chin making you look straight in his eyes.

,,I want you”

He stated calmly, watching you backing away from his touch.

,,But I’m afraid your contract lacks details”

Barely audible “phff” was let out by you as almost burst into laughter. As if he was the one to talk.

,,You imply that your contracts are crystal clear and detailed?”

,,Indeed”

,,You said you want me, which actually is rather a vague statement itself. It could be interpreted on many different ways, which is why I phrased my wish exactly the same”

You stated coldly as your gaze nervously stopped on door for a brief second, as if you were debating whether you were too deep caught in handling your soul to Azul or still had a chance to escape.

,,Besides, as it is stated in contract..”

You started, shifting in your place to point exactly where you wrote certain condition you wanted point out to Azul. He observed you amused, knowing very well what you were about to say.

,,Our understanding of <wanting someone> will be exactly the same. Whatever you want from me, I want from Jade. It’s a rather logical exchange”

Azul let out a small laugh savoring whole situation.

Oh how amusing you were.

,,My, my when did you turn into such cold woman wanting to joggle Jade’s life”

,,I learnt that from you”

,,That’s a rather bold statement, especially coming from you. Shouldn’t we ask Jade himself what he thinks of your proposition, hm? It would be quite rude of us to leave him out of it, don’t you think my dear?”

You clenched your fist at his loving nickname, deciding to ignore it. Taking a deep breath, you forced an answer, trying your best to remain calm.

,,Did you ask me about my consent when you arranged all those misfortunes in my life just so I could end up here?”

Azul sighed, silently agreeing with you. Even though he would never feel guilty about all coincidental occurrings which you had stumbled upon, he had to admit that you were partially right.

,,Very well then, your contract unfortunately doesn’t hold any power so perhaps I could quickly prepare a version of mine?”

His sultry voice suggested as his eyes were piercing right through your silhouette. You could clearly see how they were filled with anticipation and how impatiently he was flicking his pen ready to sign your fate. You practically felt the rush of excitement run through his body which worried you.

He wasn’t supposed to react in such enthusiastic way.

You narrowed your eyes, eyeing him suspiciously. Was he seriously going to grant your wish to have one of Leech brothers?

No, it would be too good to be true.

You expected him to be at least slightly jealous, yet he wasn’t showing any signs, as for someone who once clearly stated that he wanted just you in return, whenever he magically showed up to offer his kind help to get you out of his arranged misfortune.

Yet, here he was almost handling you Jade.

Almost.

You must have missed something and his smile was confirming your worries.

,,Wouldn’t you prefer to sign my contract? I spent so much time on it and since you’re an honest man, I believe the contract would still hold power and validity”

You almost pouted, which was supposed to make Azul’s heart slowly melt, yet instead you earned a grin from him in return. But he knew you were far from trusting him, that’s why you wanted a contract which wasn’t made by him.

Azul supposed any start was a step towards you signing his golden contract.

You seemed rather confident.

Confident that you could make Jade fall in love with you in the span of three days. Well, if you wanted to have your fun before signing a real, golden contract with Azul, he could as well grant you this wish.

,,Very well then, I will sign your contract but in return I want one honest answer to my question, can you do that dear?”

When you nodded, he signed the paper in one swift movement before he fully focused on you again.

,,You don’t love Jade, then why would you set this condition?”

His question didn’t surprise you. You were more than perfectly ready for it.

,,Why not? I’m fully aware that sooner or later I will have to sign a contract with you and trust me, I’m tired of those games you put me in. If you want me, than at least I want to have some input in my doom. Besides, it’s not like you will ever know what my true feelings for Jade are”

You shrugged, spitting the answer through your gritted teeth, making Azul grin again. This was becoming even more interesting. It seemed that even you took some sort of sick pleasure from this little game of yours.

Perhaps, you both were similar in some sense, even if you tried to deny it.

,,I don’t plan on playing fair”

Azul stated calmly, your answer echoing in his head. You were right. You planted the doubt in his mind and seeing your small smile, he realised that was your goal from the very beginning.

,,Neither do I”

#twisted wonderland #disney twst #azul ashengrotto #twst azul x reader #azul ashengrotto x reader #azul x reader #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere azul ashengrotto #yandere azul x reader #yandere azul ashengrotto x reader #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland writing #twisted wonderland scenarios #twisted wonderland x mc #twst scenarios #twst imagine #twst

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forhereyesonlyyy · 3 years

Text

(iii) lean on me. // gfriend, cyn. // one-shot.

word count: 9.9k

author's note: and we're on part three! i literally did not mean for this to be so long and have so much stuff going on but i thought that certain questions would be left hanging if i didn’t write with detail 😓 anyway, this is the final part! it’s a bit lacking compared to the previous ones but nevertheless, i still enjoyed writing this and i truly hope that you guys liked reading it 😊 really sorry i dragged this on though,,,, i feel like i could have avoided certain scenes since they are pretty much pointless but i just really didn’t want to leave any loose ends 😓😓

tags (overall): high school au, fluff, slow burn, angst, enemies to friends to lovers.

tw (overall): violence, injury, bullying.

previous: (ii) lean on me.

With your arm finally healing and being free from the stupid cast, you were back in the game. And after your infamous falling-out with Yuju, which somehow every single student in the school was aware of, things were going back to what you considered was normal. Basically, things were the same as they were before Yuju came and made a mess in your already messy life. Everyone was scared of you again, you kept your distance with certain individuals, and teachers were on the lookout just in case you do something that might get you in trouble.

Although you were once again a top dog in the school, that didn’t mean that you were as tough as you were before.

Obviously the whole thing with Yuju affected you to the point where you actually wanted to come back to her and apologize, maybe hang out with her again but you didn’t see the point in that when she has made it clear that she does want something more than being friends, and you? Well, now you can answer truthfully that romance was simply something that didn’t ‘fit’ your lifestyle. It would explain the constant push-and-pull game you were having with yourself whenever Yuju made you feel something.

I think.

You have also stopped talking to Seokmin, for obvious reasons. You silently wished him luck on his journey to wooing Yuju, although it bothers you to think about your two best friends kissing and being sweet. But you would be happy.

Yuju deserves someone who can make her smile.

“Yuju deserves someone who can do more than that.”

Ah, yes. You always had to deal with one Jung Yerin every morning. You never tried to chase her off because even if you did, she would still spend every single second of her life to bother you.

“Yerin, babe, it’s been three months. Can we just forget about all of this?” SinB asks, leaning against the locker next to yours and shaking her head when Yerin refuses to back down from a lost battle.

“I can’t sleep because of this, Eunbi! I hate it when our friends fight.” Yerin complained. She’s been at it ever since you called it off with Yuju and she has shown no signs of stopping. You appreciated what she was trying to do but you wished that she would try to understand why you even stopped being friends with Yuju. Perhaps Yerin does understand but refuses to acknowledge it because she was so close to her ‘dream’.

Her dream of finally getting me a girlfriend… I can’t believe her sometimes.

“So do I but we have to respect (Y/N) and Yuju. Let’s not force our way into their business anymore, alright?” SinB says, hoping to finally push through her girlfriend’s stubbornness and calm her down. It works because Yerin doesn’t say anything else but melt into SinB’s arms, muttering something about how things are so unfair.

“If it’s meant to work out, then it’ll work out.” SinB said. You glared at her, but she only smirks. Oh, that stupid smirk. She was trying to provoke a reaction out of you, but you would never let Hwang SinB have her way.

You crossed your arms over your chest, “You know, I really don’t appreciate it whenever you guys talk as if I’m not right beside you.” You said. It was only seven-thirty in the morning. There was lots of time for you to scold your friends, and hopefully to relax in the library a little.

“Well, sometimes you act like you’re not with us whenever we’re hanging out together! Imagine how we feel.” Yerin countered. That was because you were trying to drive them off. Yerin and SinB are great friends, but you didn’t want them to get involved in your mess. You thought that giving them the cold shoulder and not uttering a single word to them would make them stop lurking around, but that proved to be false. Obviously.

“Maybe next time don’t hang out with me. It’ll be better for all of us.” You rebuked and started walking to the direction of the library without another word. There were students crowding the hallways, it was like everyone simultaneously decided to come to school at exactly seven-thirty. Well, at least you didn’t have to literally squeeze your way in and out of the hallway because the crowds part for you.

Suddenly, you feel an arm wrapping around your shoulders and you really were about to knock out whoever dared to touch you until you hear that annoying voice.

“You’re so cute when you act mean to us.” Yerin says as she and her girlfriend end up next to you again. I’m not getting out of this hell, aren’t I?

SinB nods, “Seriously! Continue being like that and we’ll have no choice but to fall in love with you.” She teased with a wink.

“You guys are into that?” You asked, genuinely curious.

“Hell yeah! One girlfriend is a dream come true enough on its own, imagine having two!” Yerin gushed. They had a point, but having Yerin and SinB as girlfriends… would be torture. They were already too much for you as friends! And so, you immediately chuck that bizarre idea out of your thoughts but somehow the couple knew that you thought about it and teased you.

You laughed at all their jokes, “Sorry. You guys are hot but neither of you are my type.” Yerin and SinB then started booing you following your confession, but you ignored them and entered the library. Surprisingly enough, they followed along. They earned a couple of shushes as soon as they stepped inside, making you stifle a laugh and immediately run for an aisle to hide your embarrassment.

While Yerin and SinB sat on a table to chat quietly amongst themselves, you scoured the shelves for something to read. You haven’t had a novel in your hands for three weeks, mostly because you just lost interest in reading since you could finally do other things with your arm finally being on top condition. And the other reason was because Seokmin is almost always in the library doing stuff.

You really didn’t want to come across him ever. You knew that he would ask questions and you didn’t know if you were in control of your emotions enough to not shut him down.

“This looks nice.” You muttered, staring down at a book that had a particularly interesting cover. After reading the synopsis, you head to the librarian’s desk to borrow the novel for a week, but you weren’t prepared to see Seokmin behind the computer that almost covered his whole face. The universe hates me.

It was too late to back out. You were literally the only person in line and it was obvious that you were going to the desk in the first place. Walking away would just be awkward. Other than Seokmin, there was another face at the desk that you longed to avoid at least after spring break, maybe forever too. The universe really hates me.

Yuju didn’t look surprised to see you at all. She was more… happy. It made you angry. After all the bullshit I pulled, she’s still like this.

“I’ll see you later, Seokmin.” Yuju said, patting the boy’s arm and walking away. You didn’t look at her as she went, but you felt her eyes on you before she completely disappeared from the library. What the hell? They’re talking now? They’re touching each other now? They’re— actually, good for them! Yeah… good for them.

“Are you going to be checking that out?” Seokmin asked. You blinked, suddenly remembering that you were here for a reason, and then you nodded, putting the novel down in front of Seokmin and letting him do his thing. Neither of you said a word to each other during that whole minute. You looked back at Yerin and SinB, only to find them staring at you and Seokmin blankly, waiting for something interesting to happen.

Whatever they’re hoping for, they won’t get it.

...Please don’t let them get it.

“She misses you, you know.”

Oh my God, he let them get it.

You braced yourself for a lengthy argument, “Seokmin, let’s not.” You said. You didn’t want to make a scene at such a peaceful place and disturb everyone’s tranquility, also you just didn’t want to talk to Seokmin about Yuju. One thing you would never be caught doing again is talking about someone behind their back!

“We should, it’s the healthy thing to do.” The boy insisted.

“Enough, Seokmin. It’s over, alright? Can I have that book now?” You asked.

Seokmin shakes his head, “Yuju cares so much about you, (Y/N)—”

“You don’t think I care about her?!” You snapped. You didn’t mean to. Something in you just broke, and then it was too late for you to stop yourself. Fortunately enough, classes were about to start, so pretty much every single student that was inside the room had begun to exit the library. Yerin and SinB were among those students, but they left solely because they wanted to give you and Seokmin some privacy.

Seokmin was unfazed. It was as if he was expecting you to lose your cool. Or he wanted to see you getting worked up. “If you did, you wouldn’t be so distant.” He said. His calm and reserved tone only added fuel to your fire. He doesn’t understand. Nobody understands.

“You’d never get it, Seokmin.” You muttered. All you wanted right now was to forget about all of this. Why can’t anybody see that? Even your two closest friends at the moment were pushing you to Yuju when you’ve expressed many times that you didn’t want anything to do with her anymore. Learn to take the fucking hint, everybody.

Seokmin clenched his jaw, and this was the first time you’ve ever seen him pissed. “Cut the crap, (Y/N). What the hell are you so afraid of? Why do you keep pushing people away? And don’t fucking tell me it’s because of your ‘reputation’ because I know, everybody knows, that Yuju doesn’t care about any of that. She just wants to be with you.”

I know that too.

“I don’t know what happened that day, but Yuju would’ve understood. Why would she ever leave? She loves you.” Seokmin continued. You weren’t exactly sure what was this boy’s motive, or why he was so passionate about this. Why was he fighting so hard? Did he think that he would actually crack through your thick skull and somehow persuade you to get back together with Yuju? Would you actually do it? I can’t fight this.

You glued your gaze to the carpeted floors of the library, suddenly deprived of energy. You were never good with fighting with words because everyone always finds a way to get under your skin. They always knew which words to use against you, and how could you fight people who were well-informed about your weaknesses? It was a losing battle.

“It was easier for me to lose her this way.” You said. Seokmin doesn’t say anything for a few seconds as he was trying to process your words in his head. While he was distracted, you snatched the novel from the desk but before you could leave, Seokmin looks at you with wide eyes and a half open mouth. He knows what you meant, and you couldn’t help but laugh bitterly.

“You love her.” Seokmin says rather breathlessly. You don’t say anything back. Instead, you huffed and made your way out of the library and it just hit you that you’d finally admitted it to someone, and to yourself. You never imagined that you would ever feel that way towards somebody. You always convinced yourself that you would never have the time for that. And since you weren’t exactly the sweetheart type, you thought that nobody would ever feel that way about you.

And then Yuju came into your life. Slowly, your heart changed and now you became this confused, irrational mess and it irritated you to no end. Because at least before Yuju came and rocked your world you had control of your thoughts, but now everything is just about her.

That damn beanpole.

“Are you alright?” SinB asked, putting her hand on your back. You nodded, offering your friends a weak smile. I don’t know.

Yerin loops her arm around yours, “Come on, let’s get to class.” She then started walking down the hallway. Not feeling like speaking anymore, you expressed your gratitude by leaning into Yerin a little bit and she responds by briefly putting her head down on your shoulder. If the two of them weren’t here, I wouldn’t have been able to move.

The walk to your first class was quiet, but it was comforting. It turns out that your school doesn’t always feel like hell. When the hallways are empty and silent, you could say that the place could feel… uplifting. For exactly one moment you weren’t thinking about Yuju, and that was a moment where you felt relaxed for the first time in a while.

“This is an intervention,” Just when I think that I’d be given a break, the Devil arrives. Not you, Eunha. I still like you. It turns out that you weren’t going to be left alone at all on this one fine day. First, the annoying couple you call your best friends. Second, the boy who managed to provoke you into yelling and finally, Kim Sojung. And Eunha, and Yewon. They’re like three peas in a pod. “For your information, I am not doing this willingly.” Sojung says, crossing her arms. That was obvious enough.

Yerin anxiously waits behind you, not knowing the right words to say at the moment.

“Good morning?” You fretted, scratching your head. There was five minutes before the second class started and usually, you would spend these precious minutes packing up and preparing for the incoming period but it seems like that routine will be broken today. Please do not let this go on for more than a few seconds.

Sojung closes your locker, “We need to talk about you and Yuju.” She said. Of course. You sigh deeply, everything is about her now. Just as you were about to speak, SinB happened to walk by and now you were convinced that things are just about to get messier. What’s next? Yuju comes too? Wait, I can’t jinx it. I take that back. Don’t make her come here.

“What the fuck? You guys are having a family meeting without me?” SinB mused, automatically running to her girlfriend’s embrace.

Sojung ignores the younger girl, completely shutting her out, “So, let me just say that I only went along with this idea because of Eunha and I like Yuju. But I don’t like you, and I don’t care what happens to you or what you’re feeling—”

“She does care, she just can’t admit it.” Yewon chimed in.

“Yewon, shush,” Sojung holds her index finger up to her younger sister’s face, and then she points at you. You stared back at her with a blank expression, you really just wanted to get to class. “You need to be aware of the things that Yuju has been doing ever since you broke up with her.” The tall girl said.

You furrowed your eyebrows, “I was never dating her—”

“Yeah, that’s not what I thought. I’m pretty sure you two would’ve kissed if you weren’t constantly surrounded by people,” Sojung snickered. She wasn’t… completely wrong. You never wanted to kiss Yuju, but if she ever made a move to kiss you, well, you wouldn’t stop her. Does that one time in the hallway count as her trying to kiss me? Would I have stopped her? Seeing the look of shyness on your face, Sojung smiles smugly, knowing that she has struck the right nerve. “Genius, that is what I am.” She bragged.

“I will punch you in the face.” You stated.

Eunha finally decides to come in between you and Sojung after realizing that letting her girlfriend handle this situation would be pointless, “Okay, let’s just have a healthy conversation for once.” She suggested with a smile.

You sighed and leaned into your locker, “What do you want?” You asked. The bell rings, but neither of you moved. Even Yerin, SinB, and Yewon who probably have no business being in here didn’t leave. You were happy about that though because then you wouldn’t have to deal with Sojung alone.

“Yuju… really wanted to know,” Eunha started. You shake your head, this again. You considered completely shutting everything out, but Eunha’s next words kept you listening. “She pretty much asked everybody that she thought knew about it. Me, Sojung, other people… and Jennie.”

Upon the mention of your old friend’s name, your mind goes haywire. Yuju? Talked to Jennie? About… about that?! “Why the fuck would she do that?” You asked with your voice wavering. Jennie was merciless to those she deemed unworthy of her attention. Pretty old school considering she’s just another student, but the difference between her and the others was that she was rich and she was the principal’s relative, somehow that automatically makes her someone who has a lot of power.

And if one holds power, they’re allowed to act however they want. That’s usually bad. Especially for the lesser powerful students. Students like Yuju.

“Because you didn’t tell her anything, doofus.” Sojung taunted.

“It was for her own good,” You ran your hand through your hair and sighed once again. “I didn’t… think she would do that. How does she even know about Jennie?” You uttered. Yewon avoids your gaze, Eunha shifts awkwardly on her spot, and Sojung just stares at… something. You follow the eldest’s gaze and your eyes landed on… Jung Yerin.

Yerin bit her lower lip and fidgeted with her shirt, “I only told Yuju what I know! That I guessed that (Y/N) got involved with Jennie at some point!” She confessed more to SinB who was the most confused out of everyone at the moment.

“Well, good job anyway. You successfully got the purest girl in the school on the leading lady’s radar. Nothing bad is going to happen.” Sojung says sarcastically.

Before Sojung and Yerin could argue, Yewon interrupts both of them. “Can you guys enlighten me though? I know Jennie is… kinda mean but why is this so bad? She wouldn’t do anything rash to someone she barely knows, right?” Yewon asked. Being a student who always minds her own business, Yewon doesn’t really pay attention to anything else other than her grades and whatever her sister gets herself into.

Sojung sternly glares at you as she talks to her sister, “Jennie and our good friend over here, and also a couple of certain other people, wanted to keep what happened that day a big secret so that the important ones don’t get in trouble with the principal.” The oldest explained. Well, Sojung, how do you know so much about this? I’m more surprised that the whole story hasn’t got out yet. It’s been months. Jennie’s grip on this school is insane.

“We’re not going to force you to tell us anything if it makes you uncomfortable, or if Jennie scares you, or if you just don’t wanna say a word about it at all but… since Yuju is involved now, we just want to know how bad it really was.” Eunha says gently, taking your hand in hers and reassuring you with a kind smile. You felt warm inside, you missed her being your friend.

You take a deep breath to calm your nerves. You preferred not pulling anyone else into your mess, even if it was Sojung who annoyed the hell out of you because they could get in real danger. But since Eunha was asking so nicely, and they do deserve some sort of explanation for their friend, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to tell them something. For Yuju’s sake.

“Well, you already know the guy got sent to a hospital,” You started, slowly pulling your hand from Eunha’s hold. All of the girls nod. Anyone who heard about the fight knew that much, but everything else was twisted that nobody was sure which story was the truth. It was exactly what Jennie wanted. “The thing is… that guy is Jennie’s close friend. Maybe boyfriend, or ex. I don’t fucking know, but he meant something to her and since he was the jackass that started it, Jennie didn’t want him to receive the short end of the stick.” You continued. You try your hardest to keep such grotesque images from that night out of your head for as long as you can.

The girls listen intently. You couldn’t tell what they were thinking. “If anyone with a big mouth were to ever find out about the truth… I’m not sure they would be safe.” You said. Thinking of Yuju being brutally pushed around the hallways by Jennie’s minions made your blood boil. Nobody deserves to be treated with such cruelty, especially Yuju who just wanted to understand you more.

This is my fault. I got her into this. I have to get her out.

Swallowing your own stubbornness, you made up your mind about what you could do to get Yuju out of this chaotic situation. It was probably the only way. “Has she been asking about this since… you know.” You muttered. Sojung nods, much to your dismay.

“Three months… I’m surprised she’s not dead,” You tried to joke. It landed poorly though. You shook your head, never the time for that kind of jest. “I’ll… tell her.” You confessed.

There was a moment of silence, and you weren’t sure if the girls heard you or not because they looked at you as if your words went inside one ear and out the other. What is so confusing about that? I thought it was pretty straightforward.

“Tell her you love her?” Yerin blurted out.

You blushed furiously, “The truth! What the fuck, Yerin!”

“Oh my God, you love her?” Sojung asked, covering her mouth. “This is so much better than I expected.” She exclaimed. If it wasn’t for her girlfriend, Sojung would’ve teased you to no end so once again, you were thankful for Eunha’s existence. SinB smiles fondly at you, finally feeling relieved now that you’ve succumbed to what your heart has been saying for so long.

You were relieved too, somewhat. Because now you’re not in a constant battle with yourself, but the problem is how you’re even going to talk to Yuju after this revelation.

That’s a problem to solve for some other time.

Just as lunch time started, you told Yerin and SinB that you would be doing something important that will keep you busy for the rest of the period. They didn’t say much about it and allowed you to go on your merry way, fortunately enough. With some courage and a pre-rehearsed speech, you entered the half-empty library. Just as you expected, Seokmin was quietly eating a sandwich on one of the tables, scrolling through social media on his phone.

Taking a deep breath and muttering some quick words of wisdom to yourself, you slowly approached Seokmin.

The boy slowly raises his head after sensing your presence, and you almost laughed at how shocked he looked to see you for the second time in one day.

“Hey.” You greeted.

Seokmin rushed to swallow his food, then he cleared his throat and nodded at you. “Hi.” He said.

“Can I sit here?” You asked, pulling out the chair across from him. Seokmin nodded again and you sat down, taking out your own sandwich and putting it down on the table, but doing nothing else. How do you even start talking to someone you avoided for no reason? Seokmin did not deserve to receive the cold shoulder from you because looking back at it again, he literally should not even be involved in your problem. It’s all because of…

Suddenly, it hit you. Nothing about this was Yuju’s fault. Nothing about everything you were going through was Yuju’s fault. All this time you’ve been blaming an innocent person for nothing when all of this wouldn’t have happened if you had just dealt with it the right way instead of running.

I have a lot to apologize for… but I’ll save it for when I actually see her again.

“I’ll make things right.” You say out of nowhere. That was meant to be a thought, damn it.

Seokmin keeps nodding, and he couldn’t help but smile at your promise. “I figured as much. You would never leave any loose ends.” He said.

“Oh? You know me now?” You teased, raising an eyebrow.

Seokmin’s smile just gets brighter, “Anyone with a pulse wouldn’t just let their loved one go without proper closure.” He replied.

Hearing someone refer to Yuju as your ‘loved one’ made your skin tingle and it doesn’t help that you were aware of your feelings for her now. Some part of you wants to be hopeful and end all of this with Yuju by your side, but then once again, fear strikes you. Would Yuju be really happy with you finally opening up to her? Isn’t it too late for that? Did she actually mean it earlier when she looked at you like you were everything she was hoping to see at that time?

And were you actually prepared for all of this?

“She never stopped talking about you,” Seokmin blurted. Something about the atmosphere was making you feel strange, so you awkwardly looked around before paying attention to your friend once again. “For a long time, the only thing that came out of her mouth was your name.” The boy continued, taking out the unwanted pickles in his sandwich. You tilt your head to the side, wondering why this was so awkward for you.

“It was borderline obsession but she was cute so I looked past that.” Seokmin admitted, sighing blissfully.

“Can we stop talking about her like she passed away? Like I’m pretty sure she’s eavesdropping on us right now.” You said, once again looking around you trying to find someone who was not even there.

Seokmin laughs, “What I meant to say was… you mean a lot to her, and I can assure you that all she wants right now is not even an apology, or an explanation, but a simple ‘hi’. Literally just look at her and she’ll be happy for the next few days.”

You couldn’t say anything to that, partly because most of what Seokmin said didn’t really stay in your brain. I should probably talk before it gets weird again.

“Are you… okay? With all of this?” You asked.

Seokmin puts his sandwich down, and he doesn’t respond. He was actually thinking hard about it while you sit there, anxiously waiting for his answer. You would willingly back off if Seokmin still has feelings for Yuju because all that matters to you at the moment was getting back on good terms with her.

I think.

As if Seokmin could tell what you were thinking, he addresses it. “There’s… really no point in holding on anymore.” He said with a sad smile.

“That’s not… true. She could fall for you after all of this.” You replied. It felt strange hearing yourself say that out loud.

Seokmin laughed again, then he started shaking his head. You couldn’t tell if he was sad or angry. Maybe both, but probably not. “No, no. That girl is completely in over her head for you.” And you knew that. You just didn’t want to find out just how much. Too much love will kill you or whatever. Also you get flustered really easily.

You took a bite out of your sandwich, “Did you ever try with her?” You asked. Alright, maybe asking that was too much but I’m nosy.

“Yeah but… either she’s unbelievably slow or she wanted to let me down easily by constantly… friend-zoning me.” Seokmin said. You wince, ouch. It didn’t look like Seokmin was bothered with it. Actually, he looked like he was merry about it all. It was weird because one would think that he would be miserable, but that was not the case.

(Of course you’d never think of it, but Seokmin was more happy about the fact that his two precious friends are going to be okay.)

Seokmin smirks as you drink your water, “Hey, at least you’re going to get some.” His words nearly made you spit out your drink, but when he lightly kicked your ankle as a tease you spilled water on your uniform.

Rather than getting angry about your now soiled shirt, you attempt to clear the air. “I’m talking to her to stop her from getting devoured by our common enemy! Not to get in her pants, God.” Who in their right mind would even try to use Yuju’s innocence to their advantage? A part of you is starting to doubt Seokmin’s infatuation towards Yuju. Did he really like her?

“Right, right. You might wanna clean yourself up though.” Seokmin gestured to your clothes. Well, this is just great. I don’t have a spare shirt. I’m probably gonna have to borrow the ones they have at the office with the school’s catchphrase and mascot on it.

You stood up from your seat and as you headed towards the library doors, you muttered some curses and threats to literally everything out of annoyance. Seokmin smiles as he watches you go, finally content that the two of you were friends again.

“Don’t spread to my skirt, don’t spread to my skirt, don’t spread to my skirt…” You chanted while running towards the nearest restroom. You earned several looks from students who were passing by and you have never been more embarrassed. Why didn’t I think of covering myself up at least?! Darn you, Seokmin!

As you neared the closest restroom you could find in the area, you heard a couple of muffled voices coming from inside the restroom. You couldn’t decipher the words you were barely hearing, but when you reached the entrance of the restroom, you recognized one of the voices inside. You could never really not know who that voice belongs to.

Jennie.

You considered turning back, not wanting to see the girl and deal with her for who-knows-how-long, but her next words stopped you from walking away.

“...just because you and (Y/N) had fun for a little while.”

Immediately, you pushed the door open with way too much force than you intended and entered the restroom. Jennie wasn't the only person inside, obviously. Her friends were there too: Jisoo, Chaeyoung, and Lisa. But there was another girl in the bunch. Someone who looked just a little bit out of place. The girl who has been clouding your mind ever since the first time you saw her today. I was right.

“(Y/N)...” Yuju stands by the farthest sink in the place. It looked like the other four girls were cornering her, but you weren’t sure of what was happening or what happened prior to this moment. It took you all your might to get a hold of yourself, not wanting to jump the gun. If they did anything to her… if they touched even one fucking strand of hair on her head…

“How nice of you to join us. We were just talking about you,” Jennie says with a sly smile. You avoid Yuju’s stare by looking at Jennie. Cute as ever but what the fuck does she want? “I was wondering if you’d like to come over to my place sometime this week. We have a lot to do.”

Oh, you know exactly what that meant. Somebody found out? Was it Yuju? Is that why they’re all over her right now?

You were about to go along and get dragged away without saying a word to the girl you actually wanted to talk to, but something inside you screamed at you to not do that. Get this over with. Get this over with.

“No thanks.” You deadpanned. You slipped in between Lisa and Chaeyoung, muttering a small ‘excuse me’ as you made your way towards Yuju.

Jennie stops you from walking any further towards the other girl, “You’re really going to fight this?” She asked.

“I’m not your pet, Jennie. Nobody is,” You turned around to face her again with newfound confidence. I was never anyone’s pet. Why did I even let her threats control me? I’m (Y/N) for God’s sake! I don’t answer to anyone. Stupid. “And for the record, I think it’s pretty douchey to keep hiding it as if no one’s gonna find out about it in less than two weeks. Why try to stop the inevitable?” You asked.

Jennie clenches her fists, however, she doesn’t say anything. You had a point, and she wasn’t going to try and fight that.

“I suggest that you clear the rumors before it gets out of hand. Grow the hell up and take responsibility. Trust me, it’s good for you.” You glance at your right arm which has long healed and recovered to its glory. “I know it was for me. See you never, Jen.”

The sophisticated girl scoffed, “You’ve grown soft, (Y/N). You’ll never survive here.” She said. And with that, she and her friends left without saying anything else, but you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at her words. For fuck’s sake, we’re in high school! The worst you can do to someone is throw their textbook on the ocean and make them pay hundreds of dollars for it even though it wasn’t their fault.

Yuju fidgets with the ends of her sleeves, unsure of what to do now that she was alone with you. You were feeling the same. How do you even start talking to her? Maybe the best thing to do right now is see if they did anything to her. With that in mind, you cautiously took several steps towards the taller girl. Yuju had her head hung low, what’s wrong?

You raised your hand, but stopped halfway. Is this the right thing to do? Can I even do this? All of your doubts were washed away when your eyes met Yuju’s hopeful ones, and you continued your action. You carefully brushed Yuju’s hair away from her face, and you expected to see her perfect like always, but there was a cut on her cheek and it made you see red so quickly.

“Did they do this?” You asked, clenching your jaw. I knew they wouldn’t leave her without a scratch!

“No, they didn’t—”

“Then who did?” You cut her off.

“(Y/N)—” Again.

“Doesn’t matter. I’ll find them and then I’ll—” This time, Yuju keeps you from talking by taking your hand and squeezing it tightly, snapping you out of your little cloud of rage. At least it calmed you down a little, and it totally distracted you from the fact that your soaked shirt was the reason you came in here in the first place.

“Do you… have a bandage with you?” Yuju asked. She didn’t move her hand. Good.

You nodded timidly, “I have some.” You replied. Since you get in fights way too often, your brother has advised you to keep several bandages inside your jacket and your backpack just in case you start bleeding. Now you were finally going to put them to use after a while.

While you fished through the inner pockets of your jacket, Yuju waits patiently, and then she finally notices that you were completely soaked with water. “What happened to you?” The tall girl asked. You hummed questioningly, not quite hearing what she said as you were busy and when you looked up, Yuju was completely dazed. Realizing that she had been staring rather inappropriately, Yuju’s face quite literally heats up. Is that how I look when I get flustered?

“I was eating lunch with Seokmin and… it’s a long story actually, don’t worry about it.” You said, waving your hand. Finally, you got a hold of several bandages and you handed them to Yuju with a proud smile on your face. Looking down at the colorful bandages, colorful and cute animal bandages, Yuju fails to prevent a giggle from coming out of her mouth.

You pouted, “What? Don’t you think they’re cute? Look at this it’s got an excited puppy hugging a sleepy puppy!” You exclaimed as you pointed at the tan colored one. Yuju could only nod, handing you back your favorite one and putting the others on her backpack for future uses. I hope there’s never a time where she has to use all of those.

“Yes, yes, you’re adorable. Could you put that on me, please?” Yuju asked, leaning her face closer to yours.

“I was talking about the dogs… but whatever.” You muttered. There was no point in arguing with Yuju about these kinds of things because if you learned from when you were still friends, you always end up as a blushing mess after every fight about cute things. How does she even do that? Maybe you’re really just that much of a softie.

Or, well, maybe it’s because of Yuju.

You held Yuju’s chin in your hand to keep her face steady, and you noticed that blood was starting to drip down from the cut. You wiped it off slowly, careful to not touch the wound and hurt Yuju. You stared at the taller girl’s (beautiful) face, familiarizing yourself with her features once again and this time, you didn’t exactly flinch when her eyes fluttered open all of a sudden.

As you stared down at your hand with Yuju’s blood on it, you were reminded of a similar scene months ago, although the situation was so, so much worse.

That’s when everything started to come back to you again. Flashing neon lights that were suddenly blinding, deafening bad music, and more than ten pairs of eyes watching you, judging you, horrified of you. And then finally, the heavy atmosphere that made it hard for you to breathe and nearly suffocated you before you finally ran out of the room, away from everyone’s watchful eyes… and the one unconscious body on the floor where you had just been standing.

“(Y/N), hey,” Yuju snaps you out of your train of horrible thoughts. She noticed how you reacted to her blood, she took it upon herself to wipe it off and get you back to reality. “I’ll do it.” She whispered, smiling and reaching for the bandage in your hand, but you pulled your hand back.

She has to know what I did, she has to hear it from me.

Somehow, Yuju caught on to what you were thinking. “I’m not… going to push you anymore. I know what happens when I do that.” Maybe she's psychic. She tries to take the bandage again, but you still pulled away and it made her sigh deeply.

You shake your head, “Not this time.” You said. Once again, you took her chin and tilted her face up. Goosebumps spread across your skin when Yuju rested one of her hands at your hip, and the way she stared at you made you sick to your stomach, in a good way. You raised the bandage close to Yuju’s face, and then you finally covered the wound, gently pressing the bandage so that it attaches to her soft skin.

Yuju doesn’t say anything for a while, and neither do you as you were trying to collect your thoughts. Maybe this wasn’t the ideal situation, since you always imagined that you would be telling her somewhere that was not a school restroom, but she’s here right now, willing to listen. She will always be willing to listen, but if you don’t tell her now, will you ever be able to?

That was a question that ran circles inside your brain for a while. It felt like you were taking forever thinking about it but of course, Yuju stayed patient, even going as far as to not say anything about the muffled sound of the bell ringing from the hallways. Sighing heavily, you pry her hand away from your hip and take a step back.

The more you thought about it, the more you came to terms with the fact that there was never going to be a perfect moment for something like this. And again, you were reminded that it really doesn’t matter if you don’t tell her now or not because she will find it out, especially after you’ve given Jennie a piece of your mind. You remind yourself that she has to hear the story from your perspective, and then leave her to think hard about and decide what to think of you after everything.

It’s a simple job… but with extreme risks.

Taking a deep breath, you decided to get it over with, as you always told yourself whenever you faced a big dilemma.

“A few weeks into the new school year, Jennie decided to throw a stupid party since we’re all in seniors and it might be the last time we can have fun,” Yuju’s head snaps up once you start talking. Then you find yourself chuckling at your words, she was right about that at least. “She invited a lot of her friends, and some other rich students in the school. There were also these older kids, I think they were in college. They got there much earlier than I did. By the time I joined the fun, pretty much everyone was buzzed.” You said. You remember being disgusted at how every corner of the room that day reeked of alcohol and sweat.

“I was roaming around in the kitchen, looking for something decent to eat when I noticed this one girl staring at me and you know I had to talk to her about that,” You continued. Yuju nodded, and you truly hoped that she wasn’t thinking about it the wrong way. She knows that I meant that I had to confront the girl, right? Because of my temper? Please tell me she knows that. “I thought she was judging me but it turns out she was just interested, and I was super bored so I decided to play along.” Then you looked at yourself in the mirror for a brief second, attempting to prepare yourself as the turning point of that whole situation replays in your head for the umpteenth time.

“One thing led to another and suddenly she was all over me. I didn’t mind it, she was pretty. But… some people still had problems with girls hooking up,” You clenched your fist at the memory. This is it. Come on, (Y/N). Yuju stands closer to you, offering her support and comfort with her presence, but this time it wasn’t working so well. Again, you were scared because you had a feeling that she won’t be so close to you anymore when you start talking again. Still, you push through it, having had enough of dragging it on. “There was this guy, um, he was wasted as hell and he was saying stuff. You know me, I get riled up easily but I had to remind myself that he was drunk. He didn’t know what kind of messed up bullshit he was saying, right? But then he started touching the girl I was with and when I tried to tell him to go away… he said that word.”

You didn’t have to look at Yuju to know that she understood what you were saying. The longer the moment replays in your head, the more you got confused as to why Jennie worked so hard to hide it in the first place. Who was that guy to her? She would’ve rather allowed me, her literal friend and schoolmate, to get hurt rather than disciplining that guy!

“I don’t know. I lost it. As soon as the word fell from his stupid mouth, I didn’t waste another second and decked him in the face. Then I did it again. And again, and again, and I didn’t stop until a couple of other kids pulled me away,” You release a shaky breath as the image of the older guy laying on the floor flashed in your head. You remember looking down at your hands covered in his blood, then the eyes, and everything else. Your chest started getting heavy as the weight of your actions started settling in. “I could’ve killed that guy.” You said with your voice quivering.

Slowly, Yuju takes both of your hands and pulls you into her. You allowed yourself to melt into her embrace, appreciating her warmth that managed to chase away some of the horrific feelings inside your chest. However, you were immediately reminded of the situation and you pulled away from the taller girl quickly.

You chuckled bitterly, “Scared of me yet?” You asked. It was meant to be a joke question, but you secretly hoped that she would answer honestly and seriously, even if the worst of your predictions about this discussion ends up being the outcome.

“A little,” Yuju admitted. Your heart squeezes within itself just a little bit and every breath you took was like a needle poking at it, making everything hurt just a tad bit more. “But you did that to protect yourself, and the girl. He was harassing her, plus he literally called you a slur.”

Are there any right words for you to say after that? Somehow it felt like the conversation was over, but the heaviness stayed in your chest and now Yuju’s presence only gave you anxiety rather than comfort. You nodded to yourself, suddenly remembering that you had a class to attend and totally forgetting about your shirt that has now dried after minutes of being left alone.

“Right…” You muttered. What are we supposed to do now?

“Does it feel lighter?” Yuju suddenly asks. You looked up at her, confused. She steps forward and puts her hand on your chest, where your heart was. “Right here.” She said. Oh.

“No,” You shook your head, taking her hand and letting it fall down to your side with yours. What was she going to do with that information? Did she really just want to know because she wanted to understand you better? Suddenly, you didn’t get Yuju’s motives, but that was something you felt like you had to think about while laying in your bed and staring at your boring empty ceiling. “I feel sick.”

Yuju hums, “You’ve been bottling all of that in a while. I wanted to… free you from it, but I thought I had to know every single thing before I try to do anything about it. I’m sorry if I… pressured you.” She says, laying her head low. Has she always known that something was bothering me? Is that why she got interested in the first place? A lot of questions filled your head and when you opened your mouth to ask her one, the door suddenly flew open and you remembered that yes, you were in a public space.

And that the two of you were at least half an hour late to your classes.

“Come on, let’s get out of here.” You said and dragged the taller girl out of the restroom before the student that entered noticed anything that was out of the blue. Yuju only lets you lead her through the hallways because you were holding her hand, and nothing makes her happier than seeing you being so close to her.

How do we even recover from any of this? I can’t just suddenly talk to her about my feelings after all the things I just dumped on her.

Wait.

That’s right. I do have feelings for her.

As you tread the empty hallways, you realized that you had no idea where you were even trying to go. Since you were late to your class, you didn’t feel like going anymore but as for Yuju… well, things might be different. You looked over your shoulder, only to see the taller girl looking at you like she hadn’t seen you in forever. Some part of that is true considering the amount of time you were apart from each other.

But a sly smirk makes its way onto your face because at some point, you knew that Yuju looked at you whenever you were in the same space, even if she made effort to avoid you too back then.

“Are you sure you’re fine wearing your uniform? That was wet, you know. You could get sick.” Yuju says with the utmost concern.

You nodded, “It’s alright. It’s dry now and I’m not—”

“Made of glass, yes. It’s a famous saying from you.” Yuju finishes your sentence, or more like she cuts you off, wearing a teasing smile.

You shoot her a playful glare, “You, Yerin and SinB… and probably Seokmin too. You all use my own words against me.” You said, letting out a dramatic long sigh of defeat. It does get tiring dealing with a couple of smartasses for friends, but you love them all the same. Speaking of Seokmin… I should probably get my stuff back. My poor sandwich is still in the library.

“I’m glad you guys are talking again.” Yuju mentions. You nodded, you felt the same. Although you didn’t imagine that the first time you and the boy have a proper conversation ends up with you spilling water all over your uniform but at the same time, it felt fitting that it would be like that.

“Did he ever ask you again?” You asked.

Yuju turns her head at you, utterly muddled, “Ask me out?” She repeated.

“Yeah. Remember when he approached you before lunch time? He was hoping to take you out on a date, did he ever do that again?” You were genuinely curious.

“No? I mean, I don’t think so. How would I know?” Yuju shrugs. It just dawned on you that she might’ve been oblivious of Seokmin’s feelings all along. You felt bad for your friend, but then again if you told him about it he would laugh with you.

“You are unbelievable, Yuju. You’re telling me that for three months you didn’t notice that he had a big crush on you?” You questioned her again.

“He did not! And why would I look at someone else when you’re around?” Yuju tries to flirt by winking at you. Yes, the charm worked but you weren’t going to let her get away with that.

“Stop changing the subject. He totally— wait, this isn’t the way to the library.” You said as you looked around at the familiar and yet unfamiliar surroundings. You were able to identify that you and Yuju had somehow landed in the science hallway of the building though. Yuju lets go of your hand and looks out the big windows, staring at the flowers down at the garden and letting herself be mesmerized by nature’s beauty, and totally ignoring the fact that the two of you had gotten lost while chatting.

This was where you first told her your name, and where you messed with her. Back then she was completely dazed at the flowers too, and you smiled at the familiarity of it all.

You crossed your arms over your chest, “You said you wouldn’t want to look at anything else while I’m around and yet you’ve forgotten about me. For flowers.” You joked.

Yuju hums, then she smiles but it wasn’t the kind of smile that made your heart flutter and filled your stomach with butterflies, it was a smile that told you that she was up to something. “Oh? So you admit that you don’t want me to look at anything else but you?” She asked, now walking towards you with that mischievous glint in her beautiful eyes. Fuck.

“H-How did you even make that connection?” You tried to avoid stuttering, but now Yuju was extremely close and somehow your feet got glued to the ground. Is this how she felt when I did it?!

“(Y/N),” Yuju’s tongue runs across her upper lip briefly, just like you did back then. You squint at her actions, finding her ridiculous while simultaneously feeling incredibly embarrassed at the thought of you probably looking stupid months ago. At least she looks nice doing it now. I was injured and it was my first day back from the hospital, I must’ve looked funny. “Would you like to talk about that?” The tall girl asked, her eyes darting from your flushed cheeks, to your nose, and then your lips.

You stifled a laugh, “Slow down. Save it for later, lovergirl.” You said, putting your hands on the other girl’s shoulders and gently pushing her back to create distance. One because you were close to combusting and two because you might’ve not been able to control yourself. The things you make me feel.

Yuju grins, “On that cute little coffee shop after school?” She asked, which you nodded your head to.

“Your treat.” You say with a smirk before turning around and walking back. This time, you were actually going to the library. Yuju jogs up beside you, still wearing a big smile on her face and she wraps her hand around yours.

“I don’t mind as long as it’s for you.”

“...”

“Oh my goodness, you let me finish!”

“Well, maybe we don’t always have to save the romantics for later.”

After screaming to your older brother a quick goodbye, you do your best to slip on your sneakers in record breaking time and run out of the house, not even bothering to tie up your shoelaces. If you even stop or slow down for half a second, you would miss your bus and it takes a whole hour for the next one to pass by your neighborhood and there was just something that was not right about arriving at school exactly on time. Maybe it was just you. It was probably just you.

As you sprint towards the bus stop, you noticed how cold it really was. It was weird considering how it was usually not always chilling whenever you went out on your usual routine. Did I not read the weather right? Oh, who am I kidding? The weather is always unpredictable.

When you arrived at your destination, you recognized a familiar face sitting at the bench quietly and when the girl spots you, she mirrors the same look of bewilderment as you walked closer to the bench. What is she doing here? And why so early in the morning?

“Yuna, babe,” After two weeks of dating, you realized that you didn't even know Yuju’s full name and she didn’t tell you because she thought that you knew. Apparently, her full real name was Choi Yuna, and even now that the two of you have been together for a month and a half, your girlfriend’s name still sounded as fresh and beautiful as it did when you first heard it. Hell, I can’t even believe she’s my girlfriend. Girlfriend! “What are you doing here?” You asked.

“Looks like somebody forgot that she will be riding the bus with her girlfriend to school this morning,” Yuju teased. You scratched your head, dumbfounded. Yeah, I did forget that. What the hell is wrong with me today? “And I think the real question is, what are you doing here? There’s at least a solid hour before you usually come out and catch the bus.” She said, pointing at her watch.

You furrowed your eyebrows, suddenly not knowing how time works. You pulled out your phone and your eyes almost fell out of their sockets when you confirmed that yes, your girlfriend was telling the truth. “Are you kidding me! I ran like hell to get here and I’m way too early!” You shouted and plopped down on the bench beside the taller girl.

Yuju coos when she sees you pout, “Aww, it’s okay, at least we get to spend more time together at the ass crack of dawn.” She said.

“Okay, but seriously, why are you here? Like, specifically right here at the bus stop?” You asked, ignoring your cheeks that were heating up. A month and a half and she still has this effect on you.

“I was actually on my way to your house to surprise you and all that but I got exhausted so I sat down here for a bit to rest. And then you came,” Yuju explained. Seeing the drained look on your face, she frowned. She then pulled you close, letting you rest your head on her shoulder while also holding her hand. Still gives me butterflies. “Did you even have breakfast?” Your girlfriend asks. She sighs when she feels you shake your head.

“Wanna walk to a bakery before the bus arrives?” Yuju smiles when you do, because nothing makes you feel better than eating bread at your favorite place with your favorite person.

“My treat this time, though.” You said as you stand up, pulling Yuju with you.

“Oh, you don’t have to.” Yuju said. The two of you started walking to your usual path to the nearest bakery shop. You’ve gone on countless dates in different places, but something about this particular bakery was special. The pastries were delicious of course and the short distance between it and your house was definitely a favor, but there was always something in the air whenever you and Yuju go there for a snack.

Ugh, I feel tingly thinking about it. But you loved it.

“Yes, I do,” You replied, momentarily stopping at your tracks. You have been thinking about it for a while. How you and Yuju got to where you are now, what it took for you and her to get here. But more specifically, this was about Yuju and how you are so genuinely thankful for her for being with you. “I realized that… you were the one that definitely got the worst end of this… whole thing between us. When we met, when we became friends, when we tried to sort things out about that thing, and pretty much every other stuff. I want to be good to you, like you’ve always been to me. And I know bread is nothing but I promise that there are greater things that I can do to make up for all the time you waited and dealt with me.” You confessed, running your thumb across the taller girl’s knuckles tenderly.

Is this enough? Probably not. I put her through a lot, and I will give her all the love she’s given me. Maybe more.

Definitely more.

Yuju doesn’t say anything. At first, she stares at you for a long time because how can she even respond to that? (She felt a lot of things inside. So much that she felt like she was going to explode if she tries to speak.) But then she cups your face with her hands and slowly, she pulls you in for a kiss.

It was quick, but it was enough to get the message across.

I love you more, Choi Yuna.

“Lean on me, right?” You whisper as she pulls back. She looked like she was about to cry, but she smiles at you and blinks the tears away. (You smile back at her, and Yuju feels like she was going to melt into a puddle the longer she stared.)

“That was sweet… but I was going to tell you that I have coupons we could use instead—”

“Oh, just let me be romantic!”

#gfriend imagines #gfriend scenarios #gfriend reactions #gfriend oneshots #gfriend x reader #yuju x reader #yuju imagines #yuju reactions #yuju oneshots #gfriend yuju #girl group imagines #girl group scenarios #girl group reactions #girl group oneshots #girl group x reader

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unityghost · 3 years

Text

Masquerade

Oh look, I wrote part 29 of Post-Asmodeus Sabriel Feels.

Based on the following prompt from Archive of Our Own user PersonFace:

Gabe hides his true thoughts and pretends to make progress, and, to his surprise, he's good at it. Not, they let it go, not, they're not noticing, he's really good at hiding away, and putting on a face. Even Sam is fooled. Gabe is conflicted on how to feel about that.

I'll confess that some of this doesn't follow the prompt to the letter, but I did my very best. And of course I am sorry for how overdue it is.

“No,” said Sam.

“Yes,” said Gabriel.

Sam pinched the bridge of his nose. “I told you, you’re not coming to fight.”

“I heard what you said, which is why I lied and agreed I’d lay low. Thing is, I don’t want to see you flop because you lacked the knowledge to keep from getting slaughtered.”

Sam’s face softened. “You gave us all the information you could.”

He and Gabriel stood alone in a motel room near the Uinta mountain ranges in Utah. It had been a long while since Gabriel had spent a significant amount of time out west, and indeed, they planned on being here for no longer than a few days. Dean had already left to start the car, and Sam was blocking the doorway so that Gabriel couldn’t accompany them.

Gabriel knew that Sam had a point: since healing an injury on Sam’s hand two weeks previously, after a witch and her miniscule but bloodthirsty familiar had attacked him, Gabriel had been exhausted.

Even so:

“You really don’t know much about these sons of bitches,” Gabriel reminded Sam, trying not to sound like he was pleading. “And I’ve seen them before; I would be able to take one on.”

But Sam held firm. “You’ve already done plenty to help us along, all right? You taught us more about the satori than Wikipedia and all the Japanese folklore books combined. We don’t need you to fight; we just needed that guidance. Okay? You really aren’t ready for this. And I’m not saying that to try and make you feel bad. When you’re stronger, I won’t make you stay put. Promise.”

“In other words, I’d slow you guys down.” Before Sam could protest, Gabriel added, “Fine. You’re hardly off the mark, so fine. I’ll entertain myself while you go hunt down your furry lunatic. Remember, get a good swing in, and if it doesn’t know what’s coming then you’ve got yourself an extra three seconds or so to avoid being eaten.”

Sam nodded, pretending Gabriel hadn’t told him this already. “Sure thing.”

“Did you meditate? Clear that noggin of yours? The satori feed on thoughts. Especially complex, contemplative thought.”

“Dean and I both meditated.”

“Like I said: complex and contemplative. I’m not as worried about Dean.”

Sam glanced down at his watch. “Gabriel, I’ve got to go. But while we’re gone, put your feet up. Let yourself relax for a while. I promise we’ll be okay.”

“Did I say you wouldn’t be?”

Sam smiled, and just missed the raised middle finger cast behind him on his way out the door.

Gabriel waited for the engine to fade before he checked his pocket to ensure the room key was there.

Yes, he was worn out; yes, he was low on grace; and yes - he had enough sense to understand that Sam had been generous in allowing Gabriel to come at all when he was sure to slow the others down. Nevertheless, it was true that Gabriel knew these creatures better than Sam did: he’d dealt with them more than once when they had free reign over the Central Pangean Mountains, long before humankind could take advantage of any opportunity to mess with them.

Gabriel was familiar with what scant literature was accessible to the public these days; and no matter how many times he insisted that not only were these monsters more cunning than the Winchesters’ average prey, but quicker and more ferocious, neither of them took the warnings seriously.

“I’m not questioning whether you can take them on,” Gabriel had told them. “I’m just trying to get you to believe me when I tell you that you gotta prepare for more than you’ve been able to read up on.”

“So tell us more,” Dean prodded, watching him in the rearview mirror.

“I told you all I know! It’s not like I’ve ever sat down to have lunch with one. But I’ve seen what they can do to humans, and …” Gabriel paused, remembering. “A couple of times I was able to chase them off.”

Dean raised his eyebrows. “And the other times?”

Gabriel waved a dismissive hand. “Doesn’t matter.” He didn’t want to admit that the “other times” had seen him standing out of sight, watching the carnage and unwilling to get involved. “I just hope you had good reflexes in Little League.”

“We’ve got everything we need,” Sam assured him from the passenger seat. “Plenty of options in the trunk.”

“I’m not worried about what weapon you use. What matters is how fast you can swing it. The goal is to take the sucker off guard, not to destroy it.”

“Then what’s the point of this trip anyway?” Dean demanded.

“See, Sam? Your brother gets what I’m trying to say.”

“As long as we can chase it off,” Sam reminded them both. “Look, Gabriel - I hear you. We don’t know how to kill it. So we’re going to immobilize it.”

“Right.” Gabriel sat back and closed his eyes. He could feel a headache coming on. “With your fancy-pants spellwork.”

“Rowena told us - ”

“Rowena knows how to chase them into isolated sprawls of water. They can’t swim, and that’s all well and good, but what happens after that? Did she do a follow-up study? For all we know, this could be the same one she took down all those years ago. You want me to page the coral reefs, see if they found a mangy corpse over yonder?”

Sam sighed. “You’re just gonna have to trust us. We’re doing the best we can.”

“I know. That’s why I insisted on tagging along.”

Outside of the motel, Gabriel halted, breathing in the mountain air. Not for the first time, he was discombobulated at the subtleties his near-graceless body picked up in a way it never would have before: the way this oxygen was thinner than that of Kansas, the chilly tickle of fall as background noise in the latter half of summer. These minute changes affected him in strange ways, altering his heartbeat and sometimes making him feel as though he was surrounded by unfamiliar presences.

He began walking. It had been a long time since he’d set foot in the Uinta Mountain ranges. Memories flickered at the back of his mind - memories that might have taken place prehistorically or may have happened a mere few centuries before. It was hard to tell sometimes which memories fell where, considering that his time with Asmodeus was a history in itself that felt both very old and very fresh.

That’s how it works when there’s no end in sight, he thought, making his way down the road toward the mountains themselves, where he knew the monster would be lurking.

It was an hour before he got a text message from Sam. Nothing yet. Probably gonna be a few hours.

“Cool,” Gabriel said to the mountain air. “Because this won’t take me long at all. Good thing one of us knows what we’re doing.”

He couldn’t recall the last time he’d been on rolling, open grass like this. Lebanon was beige; the mountain ranges were a pure, warm green.

He wished he could move positions the way he used to. It was conceivable that he might manage some distance should he attempt to fly, but there was no point in wasting his energy on that, especially since he wasn’t sure whether he had the grace he needed to take this creature down. He couldn’t remember having ever seen one killed another way; all that could be done, it seemed - at least for humankind - was to frighten the satori off with whatever object an unwitting traveler could swat at it.

What Gabriel had wanted to say to Sam, and hadn’t, was: “If it’s a choice between you getting clawed to death and turned into a meal and me taking myself out with a last gasp for grace, why are we even debating?”

How’s it going? Gabriel texted, and Sam wrote: I’ll let you know when we get rid of it.

That terse reply, indicative of irritation (although Gabriel, sensitive as he was these days, knew he wasn’t a good assessor of others’ emotions), was nothing compared to what he would face when Sam found out he’d tried to tackle the satori on his own. The real upside to Gabriel not making it through this in one piece was that he wouldn’t have to deal with punishment.

Sam’s not going to punish you, something inside of him retorted, but he focused on taking one step after another. He was tired, but he could feel that his grace was present. Maybe healing Sam’s hand had stimulated it.

Doesn’t matter. Just gotta get this done.

When he felt the satori, his neck prickled and his heartbeat sped up. It seemed that his ability to sense unwelcome supernatural presences had either never left or been reignited at some point in the recovery from his time in Hell.

Or perhaps he was attuned to predators lying in wait.

“Come on,” Gabriel called. “Eat me.”

All birdsong ceased as Gabriel turned around.

The creature stared at him and smiled.

“You’re gross,” Gabriel told it. “You look like if the offspring of Mr. Potato Head and an orangutan got its finger caught in an electric socket.”

The goblin-esque animal-thing only grinned wider. Its eye sockets were still and hollow in a furry face.

When it spoke, its voice was high and tight as if it had inhaled from a balloon, and the words came rapidly:

“The blackness thickens,” it said. “No one will be here for long; it’s all pretend. Not one of them wants you; not one of them cares. It’s a good thing you came along to destroy the enemy: make yourself useful and perhaps they’ll let you stay. Ask nicely and they’ll allow you to keep stealing from them.”

Gabriel’s skin crawled. “What are you doing, you mangy freak?”

“It has not been able to read your mind before,” the beast replied. Gabriel, who could only assume that “it” meant the satori itself, could no longer tell whether it was actually looking at him or whether those grotesque holes were sightless. The horrid animal looked dead. “You used to be an angel. When you were more than this, it couldn’t get into your head. But look: is this not proof of what you have become?”

“I’m here to - ”

“And yet if you use what little grace swims in your near-human flesh, what use will you be? Perhaps it is time; the hour has come to show that you’re a failure, and they’ll have the excuse they so sorely need to throw you away. It can eat you, too; if you are human, and it can read you, then it can swallow you as well.”

Gabriel stepped backward.

Chill out, he told himself. The son of a bitch is screwing with you.

“The son of a bitch is not screwing with you,” the creature said. “Your memories - I smell them on your breath.” The satori cackled - harsh, like retching. “You fear that he is still inside of you. Who would have thought that you, once so esteemed and powerful, might buckle? Paralysis maintains its grip upon the creature you once were.”

Paralysis indeed, Gabriel thought as he found himself struggling to respond with either speech or movement.

The creature gave its choking laugh again. “You see? You are frozen. It knows. It knows better than anyone.”

“Wrong.” Gabriel steeled himself for either overwhelming exhaustion or worse. He felt a pang of annoyance that he couldn’t do this the way he used to. “No one knows better than yours truly.”

The flash of grace hit the creature hard, and Gabriel felt some of it ricochet back to him. It hurt, but wasn’t enough to knock him over. That came only after he saw the satori crumple to the ground, its eye sockets just as lifeless as they had been a few seconds before.

Gabriel found his face pressed into the dirt. Every muscle ached in a peculiarly human manner.

He experimented with standing up and found that, although it was a sluggish process, it wasn’t impossible. He was dizzy but he could walk.

He took breaks here and there to lean against a tree and catch his breath. The birds had started singing again.

During one of these brief siestas, he sent a message to Sam:

I know you’ll hate me and I don’t blame you but I squashed the big furry toad thing.

A few moments later, Sam replied: Where are you???

Almost to the motel.

What were you thinking???

Gabriel didn’t reply. Sam sent another message only a few seconds after that: We can find you if you stay put. Don’t move.

I’m almost back; calm down.

He could picture Sam closing his eyes and inhaling, trying not to show that he was frustrated.

Are you sure? Sam asked.

Yes. Chill. I’ll meet you there.

He didn’t check the messages after that.

Gabriel arrived first. The motel room smelled like coarse carpeting and the salami sandwiches Dean had eaten in Gabriel and Sam’s room several hours before.

Gabriel groaned and lay down on one of the two beds. He wished he could fall asleep then and there, but he knew he was about to be in trouble.

“You didn’t even take a weapon?” Dean cried when the brothers returned. “You were just banking on being able to lasso him with possibly nonexistent angel milk?”

Sam strode over to the bed. “Did you really - ”

“I’m sorry. I know. I didn’t want you to get slaughtered by something I knew I could get rid of for you, okay? Sue me.”

Sam cupped his hands over his face and exhaled. “Did it do anything to you?”

“No.”

“It didn’t hurt you?”

“If it had, then my answer would’ve been yes. I’m fine, Sam. I’m good. And I knew you’d be upset with me, but I would rather you be mad than dead.”

“I’m not upset with you; I just - you should have told me you were going to risk your neck like that.”

“Well, I asked your permission to risk my neck and you said no! What was I supposed to do, Sam? What’s done is done and we’re all still freakin’ alive, so go shower and stop yelling at me.”

He knew that Sam wasn’t yelling, but to Gabriel it sounded dangerously close.

Sam glanced at Dean.

“He’s an idiot,” Dean announced.

“Come on,” Sam snapped. “That’s not helpful.”

“Neither was going after a monster without telling us first.” Dean glared at Gabriel before making his way to the exit and slamming the door behind him.

“He’s worried, that’s all,” Sam said.

“Yeah, he’s all in a tither over my safety. I could tell by the way he tried to disembowel me with his eyes.” Gabriel shoved his face into a pillow and groaned. “I know, okay? I do. I really - I mean - look, I’d be royally pissed too, but I was doing what I thought was best. I’m not sorry for that.”

“I …” Sam struggled for a moment, but all the fight seemed to have left him. “I’m glad you managed to pull it off. Just don’t do it again.”

With an effort, Gabriel sat up. “I’m not interested in standing by anymore.”

“We’ve had this talk already: you don’t owe us anything.”

“Fine.” Gabriel flopped back down. He hadn’t removed his shoes. “I just knew what had to be done in this instance. It can’t be taken back now and I’m glad you’re not dead.”

He shut his eyes, then felt the mattress sink under Sam’s weight.

“I’m sorry,” Sam told him. “It’s only that - ”

“Don’t be sorry.” Gabriel kept his eyes closed. “I knew the reaction I was in for. As if I didn’t run through this a thousand times in my head. You disowning me is more appealing than me having to dig your grave.”

“I wouldn’t disown you. You know that. I’m not mad, and if I was - ”

“You are mad. But frankly, I figured you’d be a lot worse than this.”

“You really don’t trust me, do you?”

Gabriel opened his eyes and squinted up at Sam. “I trust you. You obviously don’t have enough faith in me to help you when you need it, though.”

Sam stood up. “Maybe let’s have this conversation tomorrow.”

“No need. Go clean yourself up.”

“Take off your shoes.”

“Too tired. Not conscious.”

As he was drifting off, he felt Sam untying his sneakers.

There was little dialogue during the long trip home the following day. Dean was still tense, which surprised Gabriel, who had been ardently convinced that Sam would be furious and Dean would be relieved. Dean wasn’t worried about whether Gabriel lived or died, and someone had taken care of his dirty work for him.

There was, of course, the possibility that Dean was upset over being denied a triumphant capture. But Gabriel wasn’t particularly concerned about Dean’s feelings in this instance. What mattered was that he and Sam were both alive and well.

Gabriel slept most of the way home, and his dreams were full of eyeless beasts clawing at his face and digging soiled ape-like paws so harshly into his skull that the pressure became too much and he grew blind. In the nightmares, he tried to scream at them, but couldn’t make a sound.

There was nothing he could do, because they already knew he was afraid.

He was stiff and clammy when it was time to climb out of the car. During the extraordinarily long journey (probably not so extraordinary for them, Gabriel realized), Sam had taken Dean’s place at the wheel and Dean was staring sullenly out of the window.

“Okay back there?” Sam asked.

Gabriel nodded.

“Here - ” Sam made his way around back to open the door and help Gabriel out.

“I’m fine,” snapped Gabriel. “I can move on my own.”

He immediately felt guilty for his tone of voice, but the dreams wouldn’t leave him.

“What’s wrong?” asked Sam. “Hey, you’re all sweaty and shaky.”

“Tired from using up my grace. Think there’s probably none left.” Both halves of his explanation were true. There was no need to explain that the nightmares had made it worse.

He shoved himself out of the car and Sam reached out a hand to steady him. Gabriel stepped away before Sam could touch him.

“Gabe,” said Sam, “You look like you’re going to pass out.”

“I’m not.”

“I can tell when something’s wrong with you.”

Gabriel clenched his jaw. “Is that so?” He straightened himself and made a concerted effort to walk evenly and steadily up to the door and down the stairs into the bunker. He stumbled toward the bottom step and Sam grabbed his shoulder.

Gabriel wrenched himself away. “Jesus, Sam, I’ll tell you if something’s wrong!”

“Okay!” Sam looked alarmed. “I just - okay.”

Gabriel ignored the shame that accompanied his outburst. Sam didn’t deserve anybody shouting at him, but there could be no denying that he was right: Sam had seen Gabriel in various states of distress and knew what it looked like when he wasn’t well.

He turned away, making for his bedroom; then he paused and looked back at Sam.

“I just need a little rest,” he said. “That’s all it is. I’m on edge, all right? But I’ll be fine.”

Sam nodded. “Yeah. Go. Get some sleep. I’ll bring you something to eat later.”

“All right.” Gabriel wasn’t sure he would be able to eat, but there was no reason to make Sam more suspicious. “I’ll see you later.”

He didn’t look back this time.

That week, Gabriel made it a point to eat in front of them - especially Sam - at least once a day. He wasn’t unable to eat, and mostly it wasn’t a necessity; usually, however, he didn’t have any appetite. Besides that, hunger made him feel guilty, and sometimes he had a hard time eating without an immediate recollection of being held down and force-fed during his time with Asmodeus.

If Sam noticed that Gabriel was eating more, he didn’t say. Gabriel tried to let his mind go blank during mealtimes. Asmodeus often crept in, and he must have looked a certain way when that happened because Sam would frown.

Not one of them wants you; not one of them cares.

Gabriel forced himself to swallow, privately willing Sam to stop watching him, desperate for control over his own mind.

Is this not proof of what you have become?

Not even Sam ought to have access to his innermost thoughts and memories - not anymore.

Meanwhile, Dean’s behavior had settled into some semblance of normalcy. Gabriel had never been more thankful for his indifference; he had never taken such joy in the absence of intuitive empathy.

Then there was Castiel, who seemed mostly inclined to leave his brother alone. He sometimes looked puzzled - although that wasn’t unusual for him - but he didn’t say anything.

If Jack had any suspicions about Gabriel’s newfound stoicism, he didn’t let them show. He was cheerful and inquisitive as always, and yet - maybe from spending so much time with Cas, or perhaps because he had learned neither how to express his compassion nor how to block it - there were times he too appeared confused, not sure what to make of his uncle.

“Why are you looking at me like that, kid?” Gabriel asked him one evening.

Jack replied, “How am I looking at you?”

“Like I’m still brushing off loam from the uncanny valley.”

Jack didn’t know how to respond to that, and the subject didn’t come up again.

The four of them were sharing dinner one night when Gabriel made his decision.

“Hey,” he said to the others. “You guys all need to chill right the hell out, okay?”

Everyone turned to stare at him.

“Every time I take a bite,” Gabriel elaborated, “At least one of you watches me like you think I’m going to burst into flame. Or tears. Maybe that was warranted at one point, but I’m starting to feel like there’s something stuck in my teeth and nobody wants to tell me.”

“Your teeth look fine to me,” said Jack.

“Look,” Gabriel went on, “I get that I kind of wore myself out back in Utah, but can you fellas please stop watching my every move with those confused looks on your faces?”

Sam appeared taken aback. “Is that what we’re doing? I guess I was just …”

Slowly, looking him in the eye, Gabriel forced himself to take a bite of the pizza Dean had crafted. He had tasted it before, and although it was exceptionally good, Gabriel had a hard time with the richness of it. Had it been up to him, he would have steered clear of meals that were meant to make a person feel full. This was the first time in the last week that he had fully committed to this sort of sustenance; before that, he’d been able to get away with lighter fare.

The fact that Gabriel was able to dismiss the taste and weight of the food, that he was able to bring his mind elsewhere and ignore the spasm of nausea he had anticipated when he sat down, was encouraging.

“You were just what?” Gabriel asked when he’d swallowed.

“Uh …” Sam blinked. “Nothing. Sorry.”

“You’re used to me being a swooning maiden,” Gabriel countered. “Right now I feel fine, and your constant inspection is nothing short of creepy.”

Sam furrowed his brow, but nodded. “All right. Sorry, Gabriel. I’m glad you’re feeling better.”

Gabriel took another mouthful, swallowed, and said: “Who knows? Maybe using my grace to wipe out the monster was just the kick in the pants I needed to get up and running again. I mean, hey, if I have it in me to off a predator from Jim Henson’s fever-dream, maybe I’m not in for the permanent misery that seemed inevitable before he and I faced off.”

Sam smiled, looking more at ease. “Yeah. I guess that makes sense.”

“Hey,” Dean interrupted, “You including me in that accusation? You and I have been having a great time.”

“That’s true,” Castiel agreed. He hadn’t taken any pizza, but was enjoying the company. “I’ve never seen the two of you get along so well.”

“Right?” Gabriel sat back. “So what do you have to complain about, Sam?”

“I’m not complaining, Gabriel, really.”

“Good. Because if you’ve got something to say, you can say it to me.”

For a moment he was afraid Sam was going to shout at him, although Gabriel knew that when he’d dared use that tone with Asmodeus, he deserved whatever response came his way.

Instead, he saw Sam further relax. “All right. I will.”

Sam was watchful during the remainder of the meal, although it was possible that Gabriel was only imagining as much. Sometimes he thought he felt Sam’s eyes on him, but when he looked over, Sam was just enjoying the food.

After dinner, Dean crooked a finger at Gabriel. “C’mere a minute.”

Gabriel followed him into the hall.

“What’s going on?” Dean asked, which surprised Gabriel.

“Nothing,” he replied.

“Look, I’m not complaining. I like you like this. But last week, before we left for Utah, you were afraid to ask for a napkin - and that’s even if you took five minutes to eat without Sam practically forcing it down your throat. So what gives?”

“Nothing,” Gabriel said again, wishing Dean had used different hyperbole. “Why are you harassing me about this?”

“Well, maybe if I knew what I was harassing you about it, we wouldn’t need to have this conversation.”

Gabriel stiffened. He felt betrayed. He had trusted Dean to be ignorant and unconcerned.

“I don’t know what you think you’re seeing,” Gabriel told him. “All I know is it isn’t real.”

“Maybe Sam should be the one to decide that.”

“Oh please. What’s Sam got to do with anything?”

Dean remained stone-faced.

Gabriel hardened his voice. “No one’s bothering Sam about anything. What, have you consulted him how to fix whatever imaginary problem you’ve got keeping you up at night? Asked him how to rewire his favorite disaster?”

“No,” said Dean, “Because I’d never hear the end of it from this new version of you.”

“What ‘new version’ of me? I can’t figure out if I’m being insulted.”

“Look, all I know is people don’t change like this overnight. Not without a reason.”

“Good thing I’m not people, then,” Gabriel snapped.

Dean shook his head. “Like I said, man, I don’t know what’s going on with you. Maybe it’s none of my business; I just figure you should ask Sam for help if something isn’t right.”

“I - ” Gabriel faltered. “You don’t want me to bother Sam about this, do you? Not that there’s any - but if there were, if I was - look, no one’s asking Sam for anything, okay? There’s no need, and if something was wrong with me, then he doesn’t need to do anything. Poor sap’s done enough for every lifetime he’s been put through.”

“I think he’d wanna know.”

“What would he want to know? What do you think the issue is here?”

“Well, if I knew, I wouldn’t’ve thought to bug you about it. But fine. Maybe my intuition is off.” He turned to leave, but then paused and looked back at Gabriel. “Sam would never forgive himself if you felt like you couldn’t tell him something, though.”

Gabriel stared at him. Then, more timidly, he asked: “Are you sure you haven’t mentioned anything? About … about whatever you think you see?”

“No. Should I?”

Gabriel shook his head.

“Look, Gabe,” said Dean, “He worries, but at the same time, he really wants to see you get better. He might be pulling the wool over his own eyes about this. If something happens to you and he thinks he could’ve done something to stop it, neither of you is going to be okay.”

Gabriel didn’t respond.

“I’ll see you later, Gabe,” Dean said, and left him standing in the hall with his heart beating twice as fast as it had been during dinner.

With static humming in his mind, Gabriel went back to his own bedroom. He shut the door and lay down on the bed, puzzled and frustrated by the sudden tautness in his throat. He ignored it.

He felt as though he had just been scolded, although he was reasonably confident that no such event had taken place.

Paralysis maintains its grip upon the creature you once were.

It occurred to Gabriel then that even he wasn’t entirely sure what he was doing. He allowed himself a brief indulgence in the notion that Sam really was under the impression that, for the first time in months, nothing was so wrong with Gabriel as to require immediate attention. He wondered if they could be friends without the ongoing dynamic of victim and savior, although he knew Sam would have scoffed at such a description.

Then he considered the practical implications of remaining here when he had just taken such a hit to his grace supply. He had reason to believe that it would come back - he had been entirely without grace more than once, and it always came back - but the amount of time that would take couldn’t be predicted. If he was to stay here, in the bunker, he had to have grace sooner rather than later. He remembered being without grace in Hell, and wished he could forget the punishment for such a crime. Now, in the bunker, he might not be penalized so much as …

Well, uselessness was a punishment in itself.

The hour has come to show that you’re a failure.

Gabriel sighed and closed his eyes.

They’ll have the excuse they so sorely need to throw you away.

No dreams, no nightmares, no tossing and turning: this slumber was quiet and pure.

But the next thing Gabriel knew, there were two voices calling his name; one he recognized immediately as Sam’s, and the other took him a few seconds to identify as that of Castiel. He couldn’t make out the words, and then he realized he couldn’t fully open his eyes; they had grown too heavy.

Panic set in as someone lifted him upright. He didn’t even have the strength to go rigid, let alone any power to fight back.

“Gabriel.” Sam was speaking to him in a low, hurried voice. “We’re not going to hurt you. Just wake up, all right?”

Gabriel wrenched his eyes partway open. The room was hazy. He took shallow breaths.

“Geez,” Sam told him. “Gabe, buddy, we couldn’t get you to wake up.”

Gabriel tried to ask, Why? but couldn’t make himself speak.

“It’s almost two in the afternoon,” Sam told him, “And when I came in to check on you, you just …” He trailed off.

“Wouldn’t move,” Castiel finished.

Gabriel leaned back against Sam.

“What’s going on?” Sam pressed. “I’ve never seen that happen to you before.”

When Gabriel managed to reply, his voice was hoarse. “I’ve fainted plenty.”

“This is different. Hey, keep your eyes open for a minute; we thought - ” Sam paused. “We just didn’t know what was going on.”

“Tired,” Gabriel slurred.

“This goes beyond tired, Gabriel,” said Cas.

“My grace … it’s …”

“It’s what?” Sam prodded.

“Dunno. I …” Gabriel tried to ignore the pounding in his head. “Killing the monster, the satori - ”

Sam and Castiel waited for him to continue. When Gabriel’s breath began coming a little more easily, he finished, “Maybe took some fight out of me.”

“This is why I told you not to come.” Sam didn’t sound angry - just worried, even afraid. “I know you were trying to help, but Gabriel, you were the one who said how vicious those things are. You’re not ready for something like that.”

“Through no fault of your own,” Castiel added.

Gabriel tried to push himself off of Sam and found that he was too weak.

“What’s wrong?” Sam asked him. “Does anything hurt?”

“Why?” The question emerged, at last, without Gabriel even thinking about it.

“What? Why what?”

“What good’re you gonna get out of knowing what’s the matter with me?”

Sam shifted so that Gabriel was lying with his head on Sam’s lap instead of bent at an angle against his chest.

Castiel spoke up: “I suspect that Sam is simply trying to remind you that you’ve become an important part of his life, and he doesn’t want to see you suffer.”

“Well, whoop-dee-doo.”

“Gabriel …” Sam checked for a fever, then pushed stray locks of hair from Gabriel’s eyes. “I don’t understand. You seemed okay last night.”

“I’m still okay.”

“That’s obviously not true,” said Cas.

“Can you try and sit up?” Sam asked.

“Maybe.” He let Sam shift away and prop him against the pillows. As he watched Sam step back, face pale with concern, he had a moment’s doubt about his own pride.

Sit back down, he wanted to say, or I wouldn’t want to touch me either.

He closed his eyes.

“No,” Sam commanded. “Gabriel, don’t. Not yet. I want you to stay awake for now.”

When, and how, had this suddenly become too much? He knew how to frolic in lies. He knew how to make personal falsehoods into very real truths; pretending until he was no longer play-acting was a familiar process.

Why now, then, did he feel his throat tighten as he stared down at the blankets?

He was committed this time, though. He was well-versed in the warning signals of a breakdown and understood that there was no benefit in acting like a child. Sam had seen and dealt with enough, and Gabriel had debased himself so often that he couldn’t imagine anyone harboring even a modicum of respect for him at this point.

That was fine. He needed to learn not to care so much about his reputation at the bunker.

“Cas,” Sam said, “Maybe …”

“Yes. Of course.” Gabriel felt his brother watching him. “If you need me, I’m nearby. Although I suspect you know what you’re doing, Sam.”

“Thanks. I think we’ll be okay.”

Gabriel heard the door close.

“All right,” Sam said, “I know you don’t like to be coerced into talking to me, and usually I’d let up a little, but if you’re sick you need to tell me.”

“I’m not.”

“Then what happened just now?”

“Beats me. But what do you expect?” Gabriel spoke more smoothly now, but directly to the blankets. “I used up all my grace on the satori. Can you blame me for being a little out of sorts?”

“No, of course I don’t blame you. But I’m not talking about your grace. Or at least I don’t think I am.”

“Yeah? What do you think we’re discussing here, then?”

“I don’t know.” Sam looked helpless. “You seemed fine yesterday, and now you’re - I mean, how did you go from that to this? This whole week you've been ... I mean ... I don't know. I thought ... ”

“Am I not an open book to you anymore? Good.”

“What?”

“There’s no reason for you to be inside my head. There’s no reason for you to - to know any more about me, or what happened to me, than you already do.”

Sam was silent.

“I see through your strategy, Sam,” Gabriel added, still staring at the blanket. “I - when you’re quiet, you want me to talk.”

“I’m just worried.”

“You’ve made that abundantly clear, and I don’t know what to tell you. I don’t know what I can do to make you feel better about this whole thing.”

“About what whole thing? About you trying to get well?”

“Pal, if that’s what you’re looking for - for me to get back on my own two feet - then what are you complaining about? Obviously I’m better. I haven’t cried or thrown up once since we got back, and I don’t see how that’s a questionable development.”

“No, I mean, it’s not, but - ”

“But what, Sam?”

“It’s not. Really, it isn’t.”

In the moment of silence that followed, Gabriel felt such an urge to speak, to tell the truth and recount exactly what had happened in the mountains, that he tore his gaze away from the blankets and met Sam’s eyes. He now had a choice: he could say something about what had taken place, or he could lose control of himself altogether.

If there was a third option, Gabriel didn’t see it.

“I don’t want to give you a whole novel about this,” he said. “My head is killing me.”

Sam nodded.

Gabriel hesitated for a few moments longer. Then he took a deep breath and began: “When we were out in Utah, and I took down that creeptastic freakazoid, it - you know - it did what it does. It found some way into my brain, and yammered on and on about my every thought. Which wouldn’t have been a problem in and of itself if I hadn’t - if I wasn’t - well, before, when I faced one of them, it couldn’t read my mind. I was an angel and it couldn’t get in. So what does that tell you, Sam?”

Sam looked blankly at him.

“Come on, Mr. Ivy League,” Gabriel pressed. “This is measurable proof that right now, at least, I’m more human than anything else. Plus, I’ve already got one monster in my head. I don’t need another psychic bedfellow. You mean well, I know, but - but don’t you think, Sam, that you being the way you are to me might be holding me in one place? Or making me an easier target, instead of building me back up to what I used to be?”

“I’ve never thought that.”

“Well, does this change your mind? I just wrote you a whole thesis.”

“Gabriel, if you didn’t have any power then you wouldn’t have been able to take that thing down in the first place.”

“And look at how that turned out. I can barely move.”

“That’s because you haven’t given yourself a chance to recover.”

“How was I even supposed to know I needed it? I’ve been fine this last week.”

“Have you?”

“Yes!”

"I sort of wasn’t talking about the satori.”

“Oh for the love of all things holy and unholy, Sam, stop being so dramatic. I’ve had plenty of time to tunnel my way out of this.”

“Did you get through the whole week without a flashback or nightmare? You seemed like you felt pretty good. I … should I have checked?”

The guilt in Sam’s voice made Gabriel wish he’d stayed unconscious. “No.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I said no, Sam.”

“You’re not well.” There was horror and distress on Sam’s face now. “I thought - ”

“Christ, Sam, relax.”

“Why didn’t you - ”

“Because this is on me, Sam! It always has been. And that’s almost beside the point. Geez, you know - you really need to make up your mind. Am I meant to improve by eating more and learning to calm myself down, or am I supposed to hold you like a security blanket every time my engine misfires? Which is it, Sam? Should I be strengthening the muscles that Asmodeus deflated or should I keep letting you man the ship when a storm kicks in?”

“Gabriel …”

“Answer the question. I’m serious. I can’t solve this equation no matter how creative I get with it. What am I supposed to do? For me, for you, for everyone here? I need an answer and maybe you have it. I sure as all get-out have no idea what I’m supposed to do or where I’m supposed to go without messing something up.”

Gabriel thought Sam looked like he might cry. “I guess it depends.”

“No, see, that’s not how this works. Because if this was a case-by-case endeavor, one of us would have found the balance by now. No, Sam, I don’t feel good. Why’s that? I don’t feel good when I’m alone; I don’t feel good about how I act when you step in. There’s no winning for me, and for you there’s just constant sacrifice that never leads anywhere. There’s a right and a wrong answer here, and if neither of us can figure it out, then I don’t know what to do. Just stop it.”

“Stop what?”

“Stop - stop trying to make me showcase my emotions. Maybe it works for you but it doesn’t lead to anything good for me; all it does is make me feel ashamed.”

Sam seemed at a loss for words. “I’m sorry,” he offered. “I’m not trying to make you do anything. Gabriel, I think you should just do what feels natural. If that means pretending everything’s okay, then - then fine, I guess, except I don’t think that’s what you really want.”

“Well, I don’t know what I want; as far as I’m concerned, I don’t want anything except to be more like an angel and less like a toddler.”

“I don’t think of you that way. You know that, Gabriel.”

“Sure, fine, but let’s not sugarcoat the fact that I am the way I am, and the responsibility is on me to change.”

Sam looked away, contemplating. Then he asked, “Why didn’t you tell me about what happened with the satori?”

“Because then I would’ve gotten worked up about it and so would you. You would’ve been worried about me.”

“I’m worried about you anyway.”

“Yup, I missed the mark on that one. What else is new?”

“So you think - ”

Gabriel shoved himself properly upright. “Stop it, Sam! For the love of every damn good thing left in this world, just stop it! Stop trying to coach me into a breakdown!”

Sam looked aghast. “I’m not!”

“So what are you after? You want to help? Do you want to keep me in one piece or break me into a thousand? I never know with you anymore; it - ” Gabriel took a shuddering breath and began to cry. “You know exactly what you’re doing. I’m not here for you to play with me, Sam!”

Sam stood up. “Gabriel - ”

“Is this what you want?” Gabriel raised his face so that Sam could see the tears. “You think that bullying me into showing my feelings is going to lead to success? I don’t like myself like this! I don’t want you to see and you keep on trying to open me up just like he did! Stop it, Sam! Stop it!”

“No, no - hey - ” Helplessly, Sam took his hand and Gabriel tore it away. “I - Gabriel - should I get Castiel?”

“No!”

“I don’t want you to be alone.”

“Neither do I!” Gabriel pounded the mattress with his fist. “So stay, because I need you here, and I hate you for that and I hate me for that too. I hate all of this!”

“I know you do.” Sam’s voice shook. “But you haven’t done anything wrong. Maybe I have; I don’t know. But none of this is your fault. I’m so sorry if I messed up.”

“You didn’t! I did! I don’t know! Stop it!” Gabriel took frantic breaths, tasting salt where the tears met his lips.

“You said I was like him.” Sam sounded weak. “If I ever made you feel that way, it was an accident.”

“You’re not like him; you - you’re trying to do something to me, and so was he, and I don’t know how to tell the difference between you pushing me to bleed out in front of you and him ripping me open with his bare hands!”

“I had no idea that’s what I was doing!”

“Because you’re - Sam, you’re - ” Gabriel found himself unable to breathe for a moment. When he managed it again, he said, “You’re not evil.”

That seemed to perplex Sam. “I hope not.”

“Of course you aren’t. But do you have any idea what that does to me?”

“I … no, I guess I don’t.”

Gabriel didn’t know either. He ground his teeth against the urge to scream.

No one will be here for long; it’s all pretend.

“I wasn’t like this before,” he said.

“That’s because you weren’t trapped in Hell before.”

“You’ve been trapped in Hell! And you’re nothing like this! Talk all day about how you need help, about how you have your bad dreams and your breakdowns - but you’re nothing like this, nothing like what I turned into.”

Not one of them wants you.

“That thing knew,” Gabriel wailed. “That thing knew exactly what I believe, exactly what I’m afraid of; that thing got into my head in a way even I can’t get into my head! I don’t have any control anymore, Sam - none.”

Not one of them wants you.

“That creature thought I was human, Sam,” Gabriel whispered. “Feeding on your kindness hasn’t done anything except squash me.”

Not one of them wants you.

“I know I can’t really understand what it’s like, exactly,” said Sam, “But what scares you so bad about being human? Especially if you know you aren’t, and your grace always comes back - even it’s on the slower side.”

Gabriel shook his head. “It’s not about the grace.” He swiped at his cheeks with his palms. “It’s about this.”

“About …”

Gabriel looked at him. “Do you know, and you’re just trying to get me to say it?”

“No! I’m not trying to make you say anything.”

Gabriel wasn’t sure he believed him, but lacked the energy to argue. “Well, then it’s about - it’s about the stuff in my head, and how I seem to be open season for anyone who wants a shot, for better or worse. In your case, it’s for the better; you don’t want to hurt me, or at least I don’t think you do. But you still know. You still see inside of me, and I’d give anything at all for a little emotional opacity. I’m weak, maybe as weak as I was in Hell.”

“No.”

“At least in my stupid cage I had a consistent idea of what the next day might bring. I anticipated chaos. He’d destroyed me, on purpose, for fun - so after a little while, I didn’t have to pretend I was holding myself together. Giving up the effort was easy enough; I had no choice. Well - no - unless I did have a choice, and made the wrong one. But he had power over me and I was used to being hurt. I didn’t have to play at not being vulnerable. It’s not like that anymore, Sam.”

“Shouldn’t that be a good thing?”

“You’d expect so, wouldn’t you? Me too. I’ve lost track of what’s good and what’s bad. So it’s not my grace I’m worried about. Or - no, that’s not true. I do worry about my grace, because I don’t know what the heck I’m supposed to be without it. It’s more like - it’s that worrying about my grace is almost a luxury right now. If I get to lose sleep over how much grace I have instead of how easily I get scared and lose control of myself, I count myself lucky.”

Sam frowned, trying to grasp what Gabriel was telling him.

Sometimes Sam understood, and sometimes he couldn’t relate. In this case, Gabriel suspected, Sam was at a loss because at no point in his life had he ever known genuine autonomy. With Gabriel, it was different: independence and secrecy were everything to him.

“I’m sorry,” Gabriel muttered. “I know I don’t make this easy for you.”

Sam was silent for a moment longer, then asked: “Can I tell you something?”

Gabriel froze. This wasn’t the first time he’d become immobile over the possibility of Sam explaining that no, he really couldn’t do this anymore. Perhaps this was the paralysis to which the satori had referred.

“It’s nothing bad,” Sam added hastily, in yet another demonstration of how naturally he could read Gabriel. “I just wanted to say that I don’t look down on you for being affected by your time with Asmodeus. Of course you freak out sometimes; who wouldn’t? And don’t say anything about me," he added as Gabriel opened his mouth. "I’ve been out of Hell a lot longer than you, and you were gone for so long … there’s a lot you didn’t see.” Bitterness crept into Sam’s voice. “Anyway, you can’t help what this has done to you. But hey, you know who would judge you for struggling? Asmodeus. Not me. Not any of us, but especially not me.”

Gabriel tried to respond, but there was no way to speak around the tightness in his throat and chest. The sincerity in Sam’s voice hurt him.

Finally, he managed: “You set that up to sound so dramatic.”

Sam smiled. “Sorry.”

Neither of them spoke for a while after that, although the break in conversation felt natural, not awkward.

Gabriel was fighting sleep when Sam broke the silence. “You’re convincing, you know that?”

“I’m what?”

“The way you just … slipped into your old role. I was surprised, but it didn’t seem forced. The way you spoke up for yourself at dinner last night was impressive. Normally you would’ve been scared of getting in trouble.”

“Hm.” Gabriel considered. “Well, I’ve said it before, Sam: I don’t know who or what I was before Asmodeus. Something changed; that’s all I can tell you.”

“And I was thinking - you know, even before we got back from the mountains, I saw something different. You pushed to come, and then you broke your promise about staying in the motel. I don’t know, maybe I’m off, but that’s a decision you might not have made before.”

“It was important. If something happened to you because I was too afraid to help, that would’ve been punishment on its own. It was a no-win situation so I took the option that I knew would keep you alive.”

“But you probably weren’t so sure about whether you would come out okay.” There was no accusation in Sam’s voice; he was merely making an observation.

“No,” Gabriel agreed, “I didn’t.”

Sam went on, “And it says something, doesn’t it, that you were able to put on such a good act? That’s an old talent that maybe you haven’t tapped into in a while.”

“It must not have been as good as you say, because your brother picked up on it somehow.”

Sam looked surprised. “When?”

“Last night he cornered me about how it isn’t standard to switch from empty to full in such a short span of time. Said I should go to you if I needed help.”

“Wow." Sam blinked. "I guess I don’t really know what to make of that.”

“Well, to me it means that some lucky winner always has access to my cesspit of a brain. Whether that’s you, or Dean, or Asmodeus, or a mountain-dwelling monster.”

“Oh geez, Gabriel …” Sam reached out to squeeze his shoulder. “It’s not like that, buddy.”

“Of course it is. Everybody gets a piece of me if they want it.” Gabriel turned his eyes to the sheets again, fighting tears. “And when I wasn’t whatever I am now, the satori couldn’t get into my head. Like I said - proof, Sam. Proof so concrete you could draw chalk around it. Proof.”

Sam shook his head, but didn’t seem to know what to say.

“I can’t stay awake,” Gabriel muttered, because it sounded more reasonable than When you look at me like that, you’re proving my point. “Can I rest a little bit?”

Sam hesitated. “Let me wake you up in twenty minutes. Just to make sure you’re not out cold again. Then, if you’re okay - another hour, and we can take it from there.”

“Fine.” Gabriel hated the idea of being shaken awake in such a short time, but hadn’t the stamina to argue.

Sam helped adjust Gabriel’s position so that he was lying down, then pulled the blankets around Gabriel’s shoulders. He didn’t move to leave.

If this was an instance of Sam being able to read him too easily, he didn’t want to know.

#Post-Asmodeus Sabriel Feels #PASF #Supernatural fanfiction #SPN fanfiction #Sabriel #Platonic #Friendship #Fanfic prompts #Do I regret my decision to forgo anonymity?#Sometimes #Too late now #Oh well #Gabriel #Sam Winchester #Dean Winchester #Gabriel/Sam Winchester

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