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ineffable-romantics · 10 months

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Some thoughts on why and how I believe Crowley and Aziraphale's relationship would incorporate sex/why I do not read them as wholly asexual:

This is something I've seen the most discourse about in this fandom, and I've had a few thoughts of my own that I really wanted to expand upon in a full meta/character analysis post. I do understand that this can be a contentious topic, so first, let me clarify a few things:

First of all, this is going to be long. Tbh it probably won't be that organized either. I ramble and I'm not very good at editing, so just... you know. Be warned. (*Hi, it's me from 2 days after writing this; I'm really not kidding, it's LONG)

These are all my own thoughts. They might not be hot takes, because recently I've seen more than a few people come to the same conclusions on a lot of these points as I have. But I've also had these notes in my drafts for about a week and a half now, and have been continuously adding to it as things have occurred to me. This post is essentially just somewhere for me to collect the separate but related meta I've been kicking around in my head.

I fully respect anyone who does see and prefer an asexual reading of this relationship. These are my own thoughts and interpretations as someone who is not asexual. I am in the LGBT+ community, so while I do know a few things about the asexuality spectrum, I am by no means an expert.

This is NOT something I expect, need, or even necessarily want the show (or, God forbid, Neil's tumblr ask box) to address. Tonally, it's just not that kind of show. Newt and Anathema's sex scene was very much played for laughs, and it worked for that reason. If the show found a way to address it in a way that was both appropriate for the tone of the show and ultimately satisfying, then great! But there is so much more to this relationship than sex, and I didn't need a kiss to confirm their love, so I certainly don't need a sex scene. As immortal beings (as I assume they'll stay) there is so much of the rest of their lives we'll never get to see. You can headcanon them as asexual and potentially be right. I can headcanon them as not and be equally potentially right. Again, these are just a collection of my own thoughts, because I think the question of sexuality (or lack thereof) is just as interesting a facet of these characters as any other.

Note: Tbh I've been second-guessing this whole post and debated deleting the whole thing several times for being silly or unnecessary, bc I don't want anyone to think that this is the only thing I care about when it comes to this story/characters. But if nothing else, it's inspired me to write in a way that nothing has in a very long time, so I've decided it's worth continuing, if for no other reason than that.

This is going to be a mixed bag of textual reading, subtextual reading, and a full-on reach or two. It's been a while since I've been in an English class, but if my teachers expected me to find a deeper meaning behind blue curtains, you can expect me to read too deeply into the symbolism of a loaded rifle or an ox rib. (This is probably not what my professors had in mind when grading my literary analysis papers but oh well) My point is, if it feels like a reach, I'm as aware of it as you are. I am in no way saying that all (or even any) of my points made were deliberate on the part of Neil or the actors or the writers or the directors. I am no longer the delulu Apple Tree Yard child of my youth, I promise.

If anything said here is in any way offensive or hurtful to anyone in the asexual community, please do not hesitate to message me or comment and let me know exactly what it was. I promise you it is not my intention to do so, and am happy to clarify or outright edit anything that reads that way.

With all that being said, let's talk about why I think Crowley and Aziraphale would absolutely fuck nasty incorporate sex into their relationship.

Note: I am out of practice with essay writing, so I think I'll just go down the bullet points of notes I have been making, and expand on each as best I can

Food

Where better to start than with Aziraphale's introduction to Pleasures Of The Flesh? (Just a heads up, this entire post may feel very Aziraphale-heavy, and with good reason).

This might be the least hot take here. We've all seen the Job minisode. We've all seen That Scene.

Whether this was intentional or not, the symbolism here is off the charts. Eve was tempted by an apple. So why not go a similar route and tempt Aziraphale with another fruit, or cheese, or bread, or literally anything else for his first experience with food? Instead, we go with a huge, glistening slab of fresh meat that he proceeds to absolutely go feral upon, moaning and gasping into his meal while Crowley watches with what definitely doesn't look to be disgust or even satisfaction with a good temptation. There's surprise at the ferocity of Aziraphale's appetite, certainly. But ultimately he looks to be intensely fascinated by it, while the thunder crashes, the music crescendos, and the earth literally shakes around them.

(It's also interesting to note how very little it takes for Crowley to tempt him with the ox rib. One murmured suggestion, a bit of unwavering eye contact, and vavoom Aziraphale immediately meets him in the middle.)

Cut to Aziraphale devouring the rest of the meat with Crowley splayed back on a makeshift bed, drinking wine and continuing to watch him indulge through half-lidded eyes. Outside a thunderstorm rages while they're learning secrets about each other in warm flickering firelight. It's cosy, it's intimate, and if they'd thrown in a bearskin throw blanket, it might as well be a post-coital scene straight out of Game of Thrones.

The next time (chronologically) we see them discuss food is when Aziraphale "tempts" Crowley with oysters in Rome. So Crowley first tempts Aziraphale with meat and then Aziraphale tempts Crowley with what is widely regarded to be an aphrodisiac. Interesting.

And then chronologically after that, the Arrangement begins to form, which has always reeked of a friends with benefits situation. Just to throw that in there.

It's What Humans Do

In the very first episode, we're shown Gabriel's obvious disgust and bewilderment towards Aziraphale eating sushi, calling it "gross matter" and being proud of the fact that he does not sully his body with it. Aziraphale initially tries to defend his own enjoyment in it, before passing it off as something that humans do, as something he simply has to do in order to blend in (which we know very well is not the case).

He does this again in season 2, passing off Nina and Maggie being in love as "something humans do". But it isn't, is it? Angels are beings of love, and can sense it, and understand very well what it is... up to a point. Even romantic love is obviously within their wheelhouse, given what we now know happened between Gabriel and Beelzebub (we'll come back to them).

What the "humans do" that angels wouldn't understand is messy, physical forms of love.

But here's the thing: Aziraphale and Crowley love doing what the humans do. They love drinking, they (or at least Aziraphale) love eating. They love music. Crowley loves driving and sleeping and watching rom-coms and sitcoms. Aziraphale loves reading and doing magic and earning little licenses and certificates for achievement in his various hobbies. They love to playact at being human so much that they've stopped playacting and started building a genuinely human lifestyle for themselves and with each other.

Once together in an unambiguously romantic sense, why do we think they wouldn't also want to explore one of the most prominent, intimate, powerful human expressions of love and desire with each other?

Angels, Demons, & Asexuality

Here's where I really want to clarify that in no way do I mean that sex is necessary for a healthy, fulfilling, and loving romantic relationship, or that the lack of desire for sex makes you any less human. Asexuality is a sexuality as valid and human as any. What I would say is that it is definitely in the human minority compared to allosexuality.

Angels and demons, on the other hand, are predominately asexual. Sexless/genderless unless Making An Effort. (Which, btw, is a concept introduced as early as the original book; why even bring it up as a possibility? Why not keep angels/demons being sexless/asexual as a hard and fast rule, if not to open up the potential for later use? Chekhov's Effort, if you will. And isn't that something that Aziraphale in particular is shown to do time and time again? He makes an effort in French and driving and magic, doesn't he?)

And this is why I don't believe Aziraphale and Crowley necessarily need to be asexual, narratively. There is already a huge amount of ace rep within the angels and demons (and no, not just the horrible ones. Muriel also doesn't "drink the tea" and has no reason or desire thus far to Make An Effort, and there are certainly other angels and demons who aren't horrible like the archangels seem to be who likely wouldn't Make An Effort either).

The central conflict for Aziraphale and Crowley is that they are on their own side, the ones who went native, the ones who are so different in so many ways from their respective hives. It would make sense for them to also break away from traditional angel/demon asexuality.

I say "traditional angel/demon asexuality", because I would also like to note that I would absolutely not rule out demisexuality for either of them. This post is being written to as a response to people who specifically believe that they (like the rest of the angels/demons seem to be) would be sex-averse in a relationship, and that it wouldn't be a factor in their relationship. I could easily read them as demisexual, but I do think there would be no real way of verifying this, because they've never been able to form as close an emotional relationship with anyone else but each other. Certainly not in heaven, and I can't imagine they would be able to form that kind of attachment with any of the humans, who they love and emulate but ultimately regard as the separate species they are. So yes, they could either be allosexual or demisexual, in my opinion.

Then again, now that I think about it, Making An Effort itself could be a great metaphor for demisexuality, since they would be entirely sexless/asexual until they have enough of an emotional connection with someone to consciously manifest otherwise. Since the other angels and demons don't generally form those types of emotional connections with anyone, there hasn't been a precedent for it.

Except...

Brielzebub

We do have a precedent for it now, don't we? Gabriel and Beelzebub fell in love. They are a direct foil for Crowley and Aziraphale's relationship, speedrunning right through their courtship and finding their happily ever after on the other side of things.

For being such a 1 to 1 comparison, it feels deliberate that they did not kiss. They held hands, they were gooey with each other, but they did not kiss. That feels like such a deliberate thing to omit when you know what's to come at the end of the episode between Crowley and Aziraphale.

And going back to the food = sex metaphor for a moment, let's notice how even as they fell in love over the years, even when pints and crisps were there on the table in front of them, they never felt the desire to reach out for them. They didn't need to. It's a date (love story) even if you aren't eating dinner (sleeping together).

Yes, I know Jim liked hot chocolate. No, I am not counting it because I don't consider Jim and Gabriel to be the same person with the same proclivities, and Jim was highly suggestible at the time anyway.

Gabriel and Brielzebub's big happily ever after moment (as of now) was one between two asexual supernatural beings. They did not need to kiss to drive the point home. They showed what Crowley and Aziraphale could have, if they would only acknowledge it.

Crowley & Aziraphale's Dissatisfaction

But they do have that already, don't they? If you really think about it, what do Gabriel and Beelzebub do with each other that Crowley and Aziraphale don't already? They hold hands, they spend time together, they create little rituals, they give gifts, they're visibly and verbally affectionate with each other, etc. They are more or less already in a romantic asexual marriage relationship with each other, aren't they?

And it doesn't seem to be enough for either of them.

At the beginning of the season, Crowley is immediately shown to be unsatisfied with the way things are. Obviously part of it comes from living in his car, but it seems to be more than that (especially since Aziraphale makes it clear that the bookshop is just as much Crowley's as his, implying that he could have been living there the whole time and is choosing not to, for some reason?). You could argue he's feeling unmoored without Hell telling him what to do, but isn't that what he wanted? Isn't that what he still wants, by the end of the season? All season long, he's never indicated the desire for a new job, or a new project. He stopped the apocalypse because he wanted the freedom to openly spend time with Aziraphale, to spend his time on Earth however he sees fit. Until Gabriel arrives, he has exactly that (minus a flat).

So where does the dissatisfaction come from? And if it represents anything to do with his relationship, what does he want out of it that he isn't getting already?

I think Crowley only really comes to the realisation of what he's missing when Nina names it for him, not only putting them in the category of romantic, but physical (outright asking if they are sleeping together). These two posts [1], [2] go into more detail about what I mean, but I think it really pushes him into acknowledging that their relationship is more human than either of them have stopped to consider, and what that might mean as far as everything a human relationship can entail.

After all, Nina and Maggie only advised that he should talk to Aziraphale, make clear his feelings. The decision to kiss him, to tip them over the edge from nonphysical to physical, that was all him. And no, kissing isn't sex, but I wonder how taboo even that might be in the kind of all-encompassing asexuality most angels seem to identify with. (If they're disgusted by food and drink, I can only imagine what they think of snogging, much less sex.)

Aziraphale doesn't have this moment of someone observing their relationship from the outside. He loves Crowley, and as of 1941 probably even knows he's in love with him in a way that Crowley doesn't understand yet. Which makes sense, since love is technically his job, he'd be more likely to recognise it for what it is.

However, Aziraphale's reference for romance and relationships is Jane Austen. It's chaste. It's dancing and dinner and doing sweet things for each other and roses and candles and handholding. He contextualises his love for Crowley in that soft fantasy sort of way, where it's there, it's obviously there, but it's neat and easy and unspoken. Not to quote Glee in this, the year of our lord 2023, but it's all very "the touch of the fingertips is as sexy as it gets".

Someone should tell that to Aziraphale's face, then.

I'm not going to pretend I know what Michael Sheen's script notes were, but there were definitely some Choices™ made. Because yes, there were plenty of moments in both seasons with Aziraphale looking at Crowley in a sweet, loving, smitten way. And then there were moments that were yearning.

But yearning for what, exactly? All of those sappy Jane Austen tropes already apply to the two of them. So why are there moments where Aziraphale is looking Crowley up and down like the last eclair in the window and licking his lips and visibly exhaling like he's trying to get in control of himself (see: Bastille scene + Crowley telling Muriel to ask him if they have any other questions about love)? Why is Aziraphale not only unconcerned when Crowley shoves him bodily up against a wall in s1, but staring at his lips and a beat too late in noticing Sister Mary's arrival? Why are some of his lines so suggestive? I'm sorry, but the car ride after the church explosion might as well have been the beginning of a Pizza Man porn with a really weird Blitz theme. If even my mother picked up on that vibe, I can't imagine it wasn't intentional on part of both the dialogue and the delivery.

(This section may feel like more of a reach/joke, but I'm really only 20% joking. These are writers and actors who are EXTREMELY good at their jobs; they know what they were doing here.)

More importantly, I don't think Aziraphale is even aware that there is more to what he wants. He lives in the Jane Austen fantasy and it never even occurs to him that he might be interested in anything further. It never even occurs to him that, as an angel, there is anything further to be interested in in the first place. Until Crowley forces it to occur to him. Just like I believe Nina forced Crowley to confront the idea that romantic love is what he's been feeling all along, I believe Crowley forced Aziraphale to confront the idea that physical intimacy is something he's been wanting, without even realising.

Aziraphale's Hedonism

Expanding on Aziraphale for a moment. We talked about his relationship with food, but we all know that Aziraphale is defined by his love of things that Feel Good.

It isn't just that he and Crowley love human things. Aziraphale loves the best of the best, or at least his version of it. He doesn't just love food, he loves going to fancy restaurants. He doesn't just love clothes, he loves soft, cosy, warm, plush clothes, or shiny, flashy, bougie fashion. He loves the warmth of tea and cocoa, loves getting drunk, and sitting in a comfy chair in the sunlight. He doesn't just experience, he indulges.

Given the emphasis put on things that Aziraphale loves just because they Feel Good, it feels narratively strange to assume that he wouldn't enjoy the feeling of being touched, or that he wouldn't be willing to try it, at least once, with someone he cared very deeply for. And just like the ox rib, I think that once he gets the first taste of things, he would absolutely tip over into complete and utter self-indulgence.

Dancing

I also think that dancing could be construed as a huge metaphor here. After all, we're told flat-out that angels don't Dance. Except one.

I would argue that Aziraphale, in fact, Made An Effort to learn how to Dance. He threw himself into the gavotte with delight (at a Victorian gay club; noted) and worked hard to be good at it. He's chomping at the bit to Dance with Crowley, working up the nerve to ask him with undeniably romantic intent and eagerness. So, angels don't Dance... unless they Make An Effort to do so.

We are told that demons, on the other hand, do Dance, but not well. Makes sense, since they're the ones who would want to encourage a deadly sin like lust, but have as little understanding of human love and physical intimacy as the angels. Crowley, however, is shown to be an excellent dancer at the ball, especially in his compatibility with Aziraphale.

(But Aziraphale WandaVisioned the ball so everyone knew how to dance! Yes, he did. However, the rest of the brainwashing doesn't seem to affect Crowley in any way, and they did actually live through the time period where this sort of dancing was a social norm; I'd be surprised if he never needed to learn. After all, the demons can't spell either, and Crowley is at least functionally literate, as far as we know.)

As of today, it's also been confirmed that when Aziraphale asked Crowley to dance, Crowley replied with "you don't dance." Not "WE don't dance". So going along with the metaphor, Crowley is just now discovering that Dancing is something Aziraphale is interested in at all, much less with him, and not denying that he himself is interested in Dancing. In his defense, I believe he was asleep for a few years while Aziraphale was learning the gavotte, so he wasn't exactly aware of Aziraphale's hot girl summer.

Love Languages

I want to expand on that; Crowley and Aziraphale's compatibility. Specifically in regards to their individual love languages.

We all know Crowley's love language is Acts of Service. I don't think there's any debate there. He loves it, Aziraphale loves it, they're both aware of it, we're all aware of it, God and Satan are aware of it, no surprise there.

You may disagree with me, but I believe Aziraphale's love language is Physical Touch, for a number of reasons. One of which being his aforementioned hedonism. Aziraphale likes things that Feel Good, remember? He likes soft clothes, and well-worn books. Neil himself has said that they like holding hands. And any time he is taken by surprise (Brielzebub getting together, the wave of love in Tadfield, etc.) what is the first thing he does? Reaches out for Crowley. He stops him with a hand to the chest in the pub. He leads him by the hand to the dance floor. He guides him by the waist in the graveyard. He reaches out during the entire Brielzebub scene, whether he can reach Crowley or not. Despite his own turmoil, he grasps at Crowley's back during the kiss.

The one time Crowley reaches out for him (not counting the kiss yet; we'll get there), he is aggressively pushed against a wall (by someone he loves and trusts) with a complete and utter lack of concern (and perhaps some interest, depending on how you read it).

And when he isn't reaching out for anyone, or there isn't anyone to reach out to? Well, he's wringing his own hands together, squeezing his own fingers, as if to find that physical comfort in himself.

So. With that theory in mind, we have Aziraphale (Physical Touch) + Crowley (Acts of Service). Throw in 6000+ years of deep love, cherished companionship, and forcibly repressed longing, and there is a very real potential of this combination resulting in fierce sexual compatibility. Where Aziraphale would want to touch and be touched, to indulge in physical pleasure with someone he adores, in the same the way he indulges in every other fine thing in his life. And where Crowley would want to indulge him in return, to give him everything he wants, and to take pleasure in Aziraphale's pleasure, in the same way he enjoys watching him take joy in food everything else.

So Aziraphale is an angel who is insecure about his own less-than-holy desires, who would want to treat Crowley like a luxury to be touched and cherished and adored. And Crowley is a demon who has, over the millennia, been unhappy about how they've been forced to deny even their friendship with each other, who would want Aziraphale to feel comfortable and safe and encouraged to indulge in earthly delights. That sounds like a stunning recipe for sexual compatibility to me.

"You said 'trust me'" / "And you did"

Just like the Job minisode, the Blitz is RIFE with symbolism (intentional or otherwise). This one will be quick, but I did want to touch on it because I thought it was interesting. Maybe I'm reaching at this point, but I'm assuming you read the tin.

First of all, Crowley not wanting to admit to never firing a gun before; comes off as someone who very much does not want to admit to their crush that they're a virgin ("You must have done this lots of times!" / "Umm.... yyyyyeah.")

(You could make the argument that Aziraphale having a firearms license and a Derringer in a hollowed-out book is symbolic of him not being a virgin while Crowley is. I disagree, for reasons I'll go into later, but it's a valid reading. However, I see it more like keeping a condom in your wallet; it's there in case you need it, but the opportunity has not yet risen no pun intended.)

More importantly, the theme of this entire minisode is trust. We already know they trust each other with their lives against the rest of Heaven, Hell, and the world. But specifically, this is about the importance of having complete trust in your partner in a charged, physically vulnerable, intimate moment, where the only danger is between the two of you.

Aziraphale needs to believe Crowley would never hurt him if he can help it. Crowley needs to trust Aziraphale's unwavering blind faith in him. Frankly, it all feels very symbolic of two people deeply in love losing their respective virginities with each other.

The trick is a success, and they share an intimate candlelit dinner in which they reaffirm their faith in each other. Aziraphale also begins to voice his agreement with Crowley, that maybe Heaven's rules shouldn't have to be as black and white as they are, and that there are benefits to... blurring the lines, shades of grey, wink wink (at which point even my mom was like, whoa guys, this is a family show).

Btw also: Can we all agree how much it looked like Crowley was getting ready to get a lapdance in that one scene? You know the one.

Also also: "Aim for my mouth"? Come on.

The Birds & The Bees

Now that I think of it, there's also something to be said for the fact that Crowley and Aziraphale are both obviously familiar with where babies come from (how they're made and how they're born) while the other angels aren't.

Something something Aziraphale and Crowley fundamentally understand sex and reproduction in a way the other angels (and probably demons) very much do not, nor have any desire to.

Probably not important. Just thought it was worth mentioning.

The Kiss™ & Religious Trauma

The Kiss. Where to even begin?

This has definitely been the hardest one to start, because there is so much going on here that I definitely won't be able to cover it all, and will certainly miss a few things here and there.

Aziraphale's reaction to the kiss afterwards is the most interesting to me. And I don't mean directly after, I don't mean the "I forgive you" part. I mean the way he touches his lips when Crowley is no longer in the room and he no longer needs to save face, when he is completely alone. Had it been directly after the kiss, it would have been rightfully read as horror, or disgust, a shield to discourage further action.

It's not. It isn't just a touch, it's a press. As desperate and angry and unexpected and imperfect as the kiss had been, Aziraphale is pressing it into himself, recreating the feeling as best he can. Beneath all the poor timing and shock and hurt from their fight and fallout, I think it's fair to say that it was something he enjoyed. Something he doesn't think he should enjoy, something that Feels Good that he only allows himself to indulge in when completely alone.

Remember, Aziraphale's idea of love is Jane Austen and gentleness and courtship and fantasy. If he'd ever even considered kissing an option, it might have been gentle pecks, cheek kisses, forehead kiss, hand kisses. Soft, safe, chaste affection.

Crowley's kiss turns all of that on its head. He introduces physical intimacy in a very real, very messy, very human way that I don't think Aziraphale ever even considered could apply to them. Considering what other angels are like and what they look down on, even Aziraphale's Jane Austen fantasies probably would have been considered taboo.

So for their first kiss to be rough and desperate and passionate in the way it was, of course he was confused and in shock. It was deeply physical, and as overwhelming and awful as it was in the moment, it Felt Good. Enough that he grasped at Crowley and kissed back, if only just for a moment, before stopping himself. Enough that he actively pressed it into his lips afterwards, in private, to remember.

I adore how Neil has decided to evolve these characters past the first book/season. More so in this season, Aziraphale and Crowley have both become such interesting allegories for queer people on either side of the spectrum of toxic religion. Aziraphale in particular obviously, because he is the side that so desperately wants to believe, to make a difference, and to unlearn all of the propaganda he's been fed over such a long time. Just like so much of organised religion, there is so much that he is told, time and time again, that he should not want, that he is silly or stupid or outright wrong for wanting. It reminds me so much of the severe Catholic guilt one might feel for wanting/engaging in sex for the first time, and the stigma of being queer layered on top of that.

What is so critical to Aziraphale's character is that he goes on wanting, and more than that, actively pursues. He was convinced to go up against Heaven and Hell and stop all of Armageddon because he wanted to go on listening to music and eating lunch and reading books and enjoying the simple company of the person he cares most deeply for, even if that person is supposed to be the enemy.

All this to say that if angels are as generally asexual/sex-averse as I believe them to be, narratively speaking, it would make sense for Aziraphale to be singular in that regard as well. Mirroring his first experience with food, it would make sense for Crowley to be the one to first introduce this new messy, physical, human dynamic between them, for Aziraphale to hesitate (obviously we are at the Hesitation phase at the moment), and then (eventually) for him to dive in wholeheartedly, to absolutely glut himself on this new thing that Feels Good. It would make sense for his character development to show him overcoming his metaphorical Catholic guilt and pursuing the sexual intimacy most (if not all) of the other angels would scorn.

(I can't help but remember that plot idea Neil described from the unwritten sequel, with Aziraphale in a hotel room trying to watch a full porno by way of the free 2-minute teaser clips so he wasn't technically sinning by paying for it. I so hope this is used in season 3, because gosh, I wonder why Aziraphale would suddenly be so interested in observing human physical intimacy after 6,000 years. Lonely and doing a little surreptitious research there, angel?)

Crowley, on the other hand, is the queer person who has broken free from his toxic religion. He prides himself on being his own person, on their his own side. He doesn't have the hang-ups Aziraphale does. He doesn't worry that he's going to be judged or cast aside for wanting things he's not supposed to. So it only makes sense for him to be the first one to suggest/initiate physical intimacy. It makes sense for him to be the one who "goes too fast" (another fantastic example of this dynamic beginning as early as s1; what is that conversation in the car meant to represent, if not Aziraphale being overwhelmed by the intensity of their relationship, and his fear of succumbing to it when he believes he shouldn't? It's also interesting that this is the first conversation to take place in Soho, just after watching Aziraphale realise he's caught feelings for a demon, with the red glow of lust serving as the backdrop).

Do I think the kiss in and of itself was sexual? No. I think it was a passionate and devastating last-ditch effort on Crowley's part to convey the way he feels for Aziraphale. Not just that he loves him, but that he loves him in the most human way possible. But I do think that the kiss represents how they can move forward from here, and what they might want to explore with each other once they feel free enough to do so.

In Conclusion

I am sure, deep in my bones (unless we are explicitly told otherwise), that this was both of their first kisses no, I'm not counting the gavotte, and that neither of them have ever thought to do anything else physical with the humans while they have been on Earth. Like I said before, they adore the human race and lifestyle in general, but ultimately view them as a separate species altogether, and they seem mostly happy to keep to themselves and each other, unless otherwise necessary. I just can't see either of them being drawn enough to a human to pursue anything close to sex. If Crowley in particular has had anything to do with sex in the context of temptations, I'm positive he would be inciting lust amongst the humans themselves, not involving himself directly. At least not that directly.

So, like every other human experience they've had on Earth, sex is something new that they could explore together, just the two of them, on their own side. A deeply intimate, tangible declaration of their love and everything they've gone through to earn it. A visceral finger to give both Heaven and Hell. A renewed appreciation for their corporations and for each other's. A enjoyable method for immortal beings to simply pass the time in each other's company. A new and exciting way to Feel Good, and all the variations that come with it.

You might agree with this post, or you might not. Whether this is something that is ever addressed or not, it doesn't matter to me. This is a brilliant love story either way, and I genuinely feel so privileged to witness it.

But I just can't find it in myself to imagine, given everything we know about these two characters, that sex isn't an experience they would both consume with wholehearted enthusiasm, curiosity, and profound, ineffable adoration.

___________________________________

Bonus feature: the very silly notes I made to myself that inspired this post

2K notes · View notes

gay-dorito-dust · 3 months

Note

ok what if reader is also a vigilante?

reader and Jason met in their civilian identities, and after a while they start dating. but like, neither of them tells the other one about their vigilante identities? and then something random happens and they both find out in a funny way?

(alsooo can I be 🐈‍⬛? :3)

Idk if this is considered ‘funny’ but I tired, oh and Yes, you may be 🐈‍⬛ anon. 🦦

When you first met Jason in the cosy book store, you were far too concerned with keeping your stint as a vigilante as close to a secret as possible, so much so that the mere aspect of dating wasn’t something you contemplated on a day to day basis; Never less dating a civilian when you’re fighting street level thugs. However you couldn’t help but get lost in the beauty of his smile, his eyes and the way he ran his hand through his hair.

All you were aware in that moment was that Jason is just perfection in a six foot something frame. He was just that beautiful that you couldn’t find yourself looking away from him, ever; It had to be illegal to be that beautiful.

When Jason first met you in the cosy book store, trying to reach for a book that was just out of reach, he was far too concerned about the new vigilante that had taken to the street of Gotham. Nightshade was their name and they obviously had natural talent but were still sloppy in some areas, but they showed enough promise in their debut outing to be apart of the Outlaws. Dating was the last thing he needed honestly, despite affection, loyalty and love were something he deeply longer for more so then anything, however he felt a little tempted by the idea when you gave him a look of gratitude as he handed you the book was enough to set him alight.

‘Jason.’ He blurted.

‘Come again?’ You asked.

‘My name. It’s Jason.’ He clarified, internally cursing himself for making himself looking like a right idiot in front of you, but you just had that effect on him and it hadn’t even been ten minutes upon meeting you. Was he really that depraved? He asked himself as in that very moment you decided to smile at him, which gave him his answer that yes, he was indeed that depraved for a genuine connection. ‘Well it’s nice to meet you Jason. I’m y/n.’ You greeted, finding Jason absolutely endearing and insufferably cute. ‘Do you often help people with books or is it just a one time thing?’ You then asked, holding the book close to your chest, biting the inside of your cheek.

‘I don’t come here as often as I promised myself I would, so consider this as a rare occurrence.’ Jason shrugged, leaning against the shelf. ‘So do you come here often or are you a fellow procrastinator?’ You chuckled and Jason has to pat himself on the back for that one. He managed to make you laugh and god did it sound ethereal. ‘I’m kinda a fellow procrastinator but that’s because I’ve been busy with life and such.’ You told him, not wanting to admit to everything to a conventionally attractive man you’ve just met at a small, run down book store just yet; You didn’t want to fuck this up for yourself.

‘Oh yeah? Then maybe if you come here more often, I’ll have more of a reason to stop by other than the books.’ Jason said and you felt your smile even wider and tighten your grip on the book, casting your eyes to the floor. Curse this beautiful man for making you feel like a silly little schoolgirl either way a crush, it was both embarrassing as it was all consuming. ‘Sounds like you’re asking me on a date, mr Jason.’

Jason shrugs. ‘Maybe I am, maybe I’m not. I mean is it wrong for me to want to get to know you better?’

‘I guess it wouldn’t hurt.’ You admitted.

‘So it’s a date?’ Jason asked, anticipating your answer.

‘Yeah. It’s a date.’ You replied, feeling a warmth flood through your body, followed by a feeling of nervousness simultaneously it was hard to figure out which feeling you should focus on.

Several book store dates, skirting your obvious feelings for one another and moving into his apartment later, you and Jason were officially a couple: and a happy one at that. And yet despite sharing everything to one another, every deep secret you’ve ever kept in your entire life and yet the one secret neither of you chose to disclose was your vigilante identities, and for simple and justifiable reasons on both your parts; You didn’t want Jason to be brought into the crossfire as a casualty and Jason didn’t want you to get hurt because of the dangerous people he wronged as RedHood. You’ve both hated yourselves for keeping a tight lid on your vigilantism but you knew it was for the betterment of the other, after all ignorance was indeed -on some occasions- bliss.

However on this very night, everything you and Jason have ever hidden from the other had decided to come to light but not in a way that’d either of you were expecting.

You and Jason were cuddled up on the couch and enjoying a peaceful evening in together, seeing as for a week straight both of you have had your hands full with capturing and clearing the streets of Gotham of thugs, goons and drug dealers, and actually getting the golden opportunity to act like an ordinary couple and shower the other in the love and affection that you’ve both been aching for the entire week.

‘You need to get some better sleep Jaybirdie, I can see dark bags starting to form under your eyes.’ You mutter softly as you run your calloused thumbs under his eyes, naturally concerned for his health and well-being. ‘Are you saying that I’m not that appealing to look at anymore because I’m developing eye bags? How shallow of you babe.’ Jason joked as he moved his face from your hands and looking away from you with a pout on his lips.

You laughed, reaching to hold his face in your hands again and gently made him look at you. ‘Stop being dramatic my little Jay bird, I think you make eyes bags work for you but I just don’t like the idea of you staying up longer than you should.’ You said as you kissed his lips and then under his eyes, feeling him hum in content as he dragged you into him tightly. ‘I appreciate the compliment babe.’ He said as he pressed a kiss to your head, closing his eyes as he breathed you in deeply. ‘I’m sorry we haven’t had enough time with each other lately.’

You burrowed yourself deeper into him, hands clutching at his shirt. ‘it’s okay Jason and besides I should sorry too because there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you for a while now. I hope you don’t hate me afterwards.’ You admit, scared that this might break your beautiful relationship with the sweetest man you’ve ever met, who had been nothing but unquestionably loyal to you through and through. ‘You could do no wrong pretty baby,’ Jason cooed, ‘but since we’re sharing things, I have something that I’ve been keeping from you also sweetheart.’ Jason said as he feared that he’d only be scaring you away afterwards and he can only hope that you’d stay and hear him out.

‘No, Jason you don’t-‘ you were cut off by the sound of two emergency alerts going off from your shared bedroom and before leaping off of Jason’s lap, much to his displeasure and worry, and rushed towards the bedroom with Jason hot on your heels going on about something you couldn’t quite make out over the noise of the emergency alerts. It was rare that it goes off and when it does, it’s when someone like scarecrow or Joker has made a reemergence to the public and when they do, nothin good ever comes to pass.

Within the depths of your shared closet in your bedroom were two equal sized duffel bags. Inside these duffel bags held everything to do with your vigilante personas that you and Jason had hastily shoved inside, and all before you officially moved into his apartment too. You never touched his out of respect for him and he never touched yours out of respect also, you both knew which one belong to who as they also sat just beneath your own civilians clothes, that and the fact that Jason’s duffel bag was a lot more beat up and rugged compared to yours which only had slight wears and tears; but other then that it was relatively a new bag.

Right of this moment however you didn’t stop to think about which bag you’ve picked up because before you knew it you had locked yourself within the bathroom, just about ready to change into your attire, when you were face to face with a familiar red helmet causing you to freeze in place. While you were trying to grasp the idea that your beautiful, beautiful Jason was the ruthless RedHood, a knock on the bathroom door broke you from your thoughts, and you automatically knew that Jason saw your vigilante attire and was feeling a similar sort of confusion towards you as you were about him. You placed the red helmet back into the duffle bag, zipped it shut before unlocking and opening the door wide enough for Jason to hold out your duffel bag towards you.

‘I believe this is yours sweetheart.’ He said awkwardly.

‘Thank you Jaybirdie.’ You mutter as you took the bag off of him, placing it down on the toilet seat as you picked up his duffel bag and handed it to him through the gap in the doorway. ‘I believe this belongs to you.’

‘Thank you sweetheart.’ Jason replied as he took the bag off of your hands as an uncomfortable air of silence followed as you both stood on either sides of the door, not knowing how to properly address the situation. Until… ‘I knew I recognise that ass in spandex anywhere.’

‘JASON!’ You exclaimed, face becoming flushed.

‘What? It’s true you’ve got a distinctly shaped ass! So of course I’m going to recognise it!’ Jason replied, throwing his hands up in the air.

‘So you’ve admitted to staring at my ass like a perv?’ You asked, crossing your arms over your chest.

Jason pushed the bathroom door open fully to get closer to you and hold your face in his hands. ‘Don’t start acting like you haven’t stared at my ass like a perv, perv.’ He says with a chuckle upon seeing the expression upon your face, pressing kisses from your forehead and all the way down to the tip of your nose. ‘I thought you wouldn’t notice.’ You murmur softly, making Jason laugh as he lead you out of the bathroom and into the bedroom, where he then sat you down on the end of the bed and held your hand.

‘Well unfortunately for you, I do notice and I can’t say I don’t like the attention that I’d get for my charming parent.’ Jason says as he kisses the back of your hand. ‘You’re not mad that I’m a vigilante and have been keeping it from you all this time?’ You asked, running your thumb over his hand. ‘No because it would be quite hypocritical if I did because I’ve been keeping the same secret hidden from you also. Would you be mad at me being RedHood?’ Jason asked and you immeditly replied ‘no because I know you did so to keep me safe.’

‘Ans I know that you didn’t tell me for the exact same reason.’ Jason butted in. ‘Now that we know however, this just means that we’re even more of a kick ass couple because we literally kick ass every night and I couldn’t be more prouder of you baby.’ He add as he presses kisses to your face, making you chuckle before pulling away. ‘But that doesn’t mean I won’t stop worry about my baby. So expect a whole lot of team ups in the future okay chipmunk?’ You pressed a kiss to his cheek before stealing one from his lips as you stood up from the bed, tugging at his arm. ‘Why don’t we start teaming up now? RedHood and Nightshade, they’ll never see us coming by a long shot!’ You said and Jason couldn’t help but smile at your excitement as he then stood up, groaning dramatically. ‘Alright, alright, quick pulling my arm and get changed so we can go catch us some bad guys.’

You beamed brightly as you stole another kiss from his lips. ‘I love you Jaybirdie.’

‘The things I do for you buttercup.’ Jason spoke against your lips as he kisses you again.

#jason todd imagine #jason todd fluff #jason todd x reader #jason todd imagines #jason todd fanfic #jason todd fanfiction #jason todd fic #dc x y/n #dc imagine #dc x reader #dc x you #dc comics x reader #dc fic #dc fanfic #dc fanfiction

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leclsrc · 1 year

Text

wait and see ✴︎ cl16

genre: enemies to lovers, fluff, angst barely, other drivers appear

word count: 2.5k

The grid recounts the evolution, nature, and many ups and downs of your and Charles' vague relationship.

auds here... req'd, this was p fun to write i hope u guys like it! :) short bec if it was any longer it wouldnt have been as nice to read i think? anyway... i love u guys. title from this.

Lando takes a seat. “Is this the thingy for…? Yeah? Okay. What am I supposed to do again?”

“Just describe the two of them.”

“Easy. She was always pissing him off.” He rubs his chin, lost in thought. “But… in a good way?”

—

“I told you a hundred times I didn’t want this to be the soundbite you published.” Charles chases after you, his footsteps quickening like a lost puppy as you wrestle your way into the media pen. “A hundred times, and you said okay, and you still published it. Che succede?”

You turn, crossing your arms over your torso. “Look. I said yes, but when I looked it over, nothing else you said was really worth it. It was all just repetitions of the same PR bullshit that makes you look good on camera.”

He rakes a hand through his hair, exhaling with frustration, watching his biting comment on Iñaki rack up hundreds of thousands of views. “This was not a good idea!” He repeats, the same sentiment he’s been telling you in the half-hour he’s known of this video’s publicity.

“But it happened.” You adjust your mic and gesture to Lando, who’s awkwardly waiting for the cameras to roll so you can start the post-FP2 interview and he can talk about his shit car. “I’m busy, so deal with it. Your fans will appreciate you not riding Ferrari’s dick all the time.”

Charles opens his mouth to argue, but shuts it, shoving his way back outside and into the motorhome so he can cooperate in damage control. He doesn’t admit it—to you, to Carlos, to anyone—but the PR that comes of it is more good than it is bad in the end. He doesn’t admit it because it means admitting you’re right, and God if that’s the last thing he’ll ever do.

—

“They were always butting heads,” George says, laughing as he soaks in the memories of it. “Always fighting over something. Anything. Whatever there was that could be disagreed on—they’d be disagreeing.”

—

It started harmlessly enough. Seb walked in with two swatches of color—a blue and a purple—and addressed the room with a light tone, asking what color would best suit the tablecloths at his wedding. And then, as it always did with you and Charles, chaos ensued.

“Blue suits green better.” You wave the blue in his face. “You’re busy thinking of red all the time so you don’t understand color theory.”

“It’s not about coordination! It’s about creating a highlight!” He gestures with his hands, aggressively gesticulating to try and get his point across. “Highlight!”

“Oh, bullshit! Blue!”

“Purple!”

“Are you crazy?!”

Across the room, Seb and George watch in mild horror at the two figures caught in a needlessly intense argument over colors at a wedding that isn’t even theirs.

An AlphaTauri engineer comes in to refill his coffee for the third time, finds the two of you still fighting and is genuinely stupefied. He turns to the two onlookers, asks, “Bridezilla, huh? Happened to me once, too. I swear the grooms always try to weasel their way in to seem more involved but their choices never make sense.”

“Oh, no. They, uh, they’re not together.” George clarifies quickly.

“They’re not?!” The engineer and Seb ask at the same time.

They all watch the argument, bemused, but secretly they all wonder just how correct George is.

—

“We have a saying in Spanish. Del amor al odio hay un paso. Neither of them will understand it—it’s in Spanish, obviously—but I think that applies to them. One minute you think they hate each other, and the next…” Carlos lets himself taper into silence, smiling softly.

—

Being around Charles feels like karmic retribution, a constant eternal push and pull. But it makes the both of you better, even if neither of you admit it in the end. You can’t really grasp why, or how it started—it might take ages if you do so much as try—but you’re content with letting things happen the way they do.

Or maybe you’re not. “You ruined my fucking broadcast, dickhead!”

You toss your earpiece at his chest, body welling up with annoyance. Your segment was being casted live until Charles insisted he take up your airtime to do whatever-the-fuck, you honestly don’t care. And yeah, sure, he’s way more relevant, but the less airtime you get, the less easily you get the exposure you need.

“It happened one time.” He sounds amused, and it patronizes you, sets you on fire. He clutches your earpiece to his chest and hands it back to you.

“Fuck you.” You tug it toward yourself, and suddenly you’re closer, noses almost touching. You step back, but it’s not enough. “You have no idea how much that mattered to me.”

His eyes flit toward your lips, your bodies melting together. “If it really did…” he says, inhaling, “you would’ve just ignored me.” And damn, he’s right.

Charles does not like you. He just knows you well. But then one might argue—isn’t that the same thing?

—

“They have trouble not calling the shots, is the thing,” Lewis offers. “So put them in a team, in a room together, and boom.”

—

“…We didn’t agree on this script.” You underline the problematic lines and toss it onto Charles’ lap from where you stand in front of the sofa. “You want your fans to hate you?”

“The questions were clumsy. I asked you to reword them, but you didn’t.”

“You didn’t ask, to be clear. You demanded.” You click your tongue.

Lewis is in the middle of posting on Roscoe’s Instagram account and manually making typos, but he looks up, interest piqued by the increasingly heated conversation.

“I asked,” Charles insists stubbornly. “Plus, this is a Ferrari segment. You get hired to write on Ferrari, you follow Ferrari.” He points to the yellow logo on his shirt. Ferrari, he mouths. Lewis stifles a chuckle at the sarcastic exchange.

“Jesus.” You reread the script. “Fine. I’ll reword this and this.”

“And that.” He points, tapping the paper.

“Only if you edit this and this. Oh, God, and this.”

“Fine. Wait, that?”

“Are you serious? It’s the corniest statement ever. Edit that or I edit nothing.”

“Okay, bossy.”

Lewis exits Instagram in favor of texting Seb to ask if you two are dating. The response he receives is equally unhelpful: Nobody knows mate.

—

“You know, for all the disagreeing they did, they actually agreed on so much of the same stuff. If they stopped fighting for two seconds they would agree on most things.” Alex muses. “But they never did, so. Or maybe a few times.”

—

Media is a tricky thing. It’s either on your side, or it isn’t.

And this weekend, Charles has drawn the short straw, subjected to bouts of backhanded journalists and tweets for his strategy during quali. You know this especially well—you’re media, for Christ’s sake—and you’ve seen your colleagues hound Charles for how he chose to tackle the session.

Alex is in the middle of a FaceTime call with Lily when he hears it. “Wait—I think they’re talking,” he says to his girlfriend when he hears you approach him, carefully maneuvering himself into optimal eavesdropping position.

“Is this the right thing to do?” Lily’s voice comes through like static.

“I know it’s wrong,” Alex confesses. “But—”

“No, I meant I can’t hear properly. Move the phone closer, you dick.”

So he does, and the two of them listen intently to your talk. You go first, a few shuffling footsteps and an adjustment of your media pass, then. “Will’s been all over you today.”

“Yeah,” comes Charles’ voice, tired if anything. “I, uh… I just hope I can understand where I went wrong and, uh. Well, uh.”

“No, I…” There’s heavy silence. “I think you did the right thing. You didn’t get pole, but it was a good strategy. Better than what was being proposed, anyway. I think that would’ve landed you at the back of the grid, to be honest.”

You both laugh. “Thanks,” he croaks.

“You did great. Don’t, um… don’t let them tell you otherwise. I’m proud of you.”

Alex never tells anybody what he heard. But it inspires many long-winded conversations with Lily about the nature of your relationship. Each time, though, they never arrive to a solid answer.

—

“Hey, listen. I always knew something was there with those two. They had the kind of dynamic you only find once in, like, a million instances.” Daniel says firmly. “But I also kept thinking… poor Charlotte.”

—

You’re half-sure Pierre was the one who bought you all shots. Or a quarter-sure. Okay, you’re not sure at all. Your mind’s cloudy, your inhibitions lowered, tongue loose and laugh contagious. Around the table everyone is laughing, some others have gotten up to dance, but you, Daniel, Lewis, and Charles are all conversing about work, albeit while drunk.

“Is… tequila… plant-based?” Lewis grimaces as he throws another shot back and you all laugh mindlessly.

“Danny,” you say, tapping his shoulder. “Any plans once you’re out of the paddock next season?”

“Ah,” he hums. “Self-discovery and a shit ton of shrooms.”

You all cheers to the epiphany, shots once again entering your system. “And a party again tomorrow!” Daniel adds half-jokingly, much to your delight. Charles, right beside you, throws an arm over your shoulder as he laughs. You’re unfazed.

Daniel’s gaze lingers on his arm a little too long, especially because your own hand reaches upward to wrap around his wrist, to make sure he doesn’t pull away. But you’re both drunk, he reasons. And plus, you can’t usually stand each other’s guts.

“I’ll pass, mate, if it happens,” Charles says, his tone clearly inebriated.

“You’re no fun,” you say lightly, laughing and turning to him. Your eyes are on the other’s, dark, lips almost touching as if you’ve forgotten Daniel and Lewis are even around (though the latter is as good as dead, honestly.)

“Invite Charlotte instead,” Daniel says with a smile, to try and test your reactions. “How long, now? Three months?”

You clear your throat, looking away with a faux smile.

“Oh. We’re not doing so well, to be honest.” Charles smiles, tight-lipped. He hopes Daniel doesn’t ask why. He can’t think of a lie quickly enough to cover how Charlotte told him I love you, Charles, but this is over. I hope you end up with her someday.

—

Seb takes some time to think about it. “Those two always fought. Everyone said that, didn’t they? All the time, disagreeing.” He hums. “I could tell very early, though, that they were also the only two who could truly understand the other. Figuratively, obviously—but as a result, also literally.”

“Elaborate?”

“When you understand someone that well, inside and out, you end up understanding everything they say.” Seb smiles. “That was them, I think.”

—

“It’s impossible to transcribe your interviews,” Will says to Charles. It’s that hour on the paddock where everyone’s waiting for the pre-race bustle to start, so small talk is what’s keeping them busy.

You’re reviewing a few clips from practice on your phone and Seb is chipping into the conversation, which has moved from Mick’s future to F1 into Sky Sports into this.

“What do you mean?” Charles asks.

“You’re always sliding in and out of your three languages!” The Englishman laughs. “I have to consult a native speaker of both Italian and French each time. And you’re always going I, I, I, or we, we, we… but hey, the fans dig it, innit?”

“I think I sound perfectly understandable.” Charles smiles. You’re still busy, unfocused on the conversation at present.

“Like, okay. Look at this.” Will retrieves his phone, opens his voice memos app, and plays one of the audio recordings there. It’s a scratchy one of Charles describing his quali session, and sure enough, even if he’s speaking straight English, the adrenaline and exhaustion have him sounding totally indecipherable.

We—we had gasjdhfhs and I, I, I… I think we need to rejshdhs and thijsjsh about the hsfhdh, yeah? And, and, uh, we ajhshajs. And

Will closes it. “Sebastian, can you tell me that said?”

He shrugs, amused. “Sorry, Charles. I genuinely can’t.”

“See?!” Will makes a voila motion. “Nobody understands this.”

“He said we had good traction and I think we need to recalibrate and think about the boxing strategy, yeah? And we need that mindset.” You’re still going over your phone, busy and not 100% invested. “You two just aren’t listening.”

Charles doesn’t take his eyes off you, or the smile off his face, the whole hour.

—

Pierre comes last, clearing his throat. He’s ready. He knows exactly what to say, so he says it. “Those two are fucking soulmates.”

—

It’s three-thirty when somebody knocks on your hotel room.

But your body still feels like it’s five in the evening, your brain’s stuck at two in the afternoon, and your sleep schedule thinks it’s nine in the morning, so you’re not asleep but instead rewriting notes from the weekend prior.

You’re horribly disoriented when you grab your pepper spray and unlatch the door, and even more disoriented when you see Charles on the other side of it.

“Am I crazy?” He asks, breathless, like he’s been waiting for you all his life. Maybe he has.

“You’re at my hotel room at three a.m., so… a bit.” You rub sleepiness and jetlag out of your eyes. “Charles, what’s going on?”

“I love you.” There it is. “It sounds so stupid. But I love you. And it’s almost—I can’t bear it. I woke up this morning? You, on my mind. Lights go off after a race? You. I go to sleep? You. It’s always you. And I know, I know it’s—I know, with Charlotte, and—but it’s true. I, I, I—I think about you every minute. And usually this happens accidentally. Nous sommes tous des idiots quand il s’agit d’amour... moi y compris.

“But this was… I knew I was falling in love and I let it happen. And so I thought, why keep waiting? Why let it drag on and on and fight over and over when I can just come and tell you how much I—and maybe, hopefully, see if you feel the same?”

He pants, tired from his clearly rambled and unplanned confession.

“I love you, too,” you say, struck. Oh God.

“Can I kiss you, then?”

“It’s may,” you breathe. “May I kiss you.”

“You may,” he whispers.

“Right now?”

“Anytime.”

“So now.”

“It’s now or next Tuesday,” he jokes.

“Now is… the best. Now would do.”

“Now would do.” So you cross the threshold and let him scoop you into his arms so he can well and truly kiss you.

—

“Is that all?” The interviewer asks Pierre. “Just… those words? We need a bit more for the article on this event.”

“Oh, yeah.” He gets up, straightens his tie. “Don’t worry. You’ll hear the rest during my best man speech.”

Del amor al odio hay un paso – From love to hate, there is one step.

Nous sommes tous des idiots quand il s'agit d'amour... moi y compris – We are all fools in love... me included.

#f1 #leclsrc2000 #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagines #charles leclerc drabble #charles leclerc smut #f1 x reader

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rax-writes · 2 months

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Rolan x Reader

↬ Warnings: afab!reader, oral and fingering (f!receiving), cumming untouched (Rolan), sub!Rolan. MDNI!

The noises filling the room are positively obscene. A cacophony of curses and moans fill the air, both from you and from the Master of Ramazith’s Tower – whose face is currently buried between your thighs, lying comfortably atop the lush comforter of his bed, one hand holding one of your thighs to keep it spread open, the other fucking you with two skillful fingers as his tongue lavishes attention on your clit.

Although your relationship with Rolan wasn’t new, the sexual escapades of the relationship were, so the two of you were still discovering turn-ons and kinks of one another’s. But gods, was he a quick learner. This was the first time he’d ravished you with his mouth, and it only took one or two pointers for him to have your entire body glistening with sweat, practically screaming as he brought you to climax for a second time.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you had the sense to be pleasantly surprised at how much Rolan seemed to be enjoying himself. Every groan and moan that fell from his lips caused your body to twitch and jerk from the vibrations of it against your clit, and the few times you glanced down at him, he seemed to be grinding his hips into the mattress. The fact that he was getting off on eating you out was enough to send you hurtling toward the edge of your second climax, one hand grabbing a fistful of his hair in a firm grip, the other grabbing one of his beautiful horns and pulling him even closer to your quivering cunt.

“Gods, Rolan! So good, my love, you’re doing so good. You’re so good – fuck!”

You came with another strangled cry of his name, barely registering the sound of whimpering preceding a few murmurs of your name. Still feeling as though you're floating, you feel Rolan retreat from between your legs, and move upwards on the bed to rest his head on your shoulder, nuzzling into your neck. Once your breathing steadied, you tapped the top of his head, and he mirrored the lopsided smile you wore when he looked up at you.

“May I return the favor?” you asked, voice breathless but sultry.

“Oh, that’s not – that’s not necessary,” Rolan quickly answered, and you could swear he turned a few shades of red darker.

“I know it’s not necessary, but I want to,” you noted, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. Your fingertips brushing over the shell and point of his ear sent a shiver through him. “But if you aren’t comfortable with that –”

“No, no, darling, it’s not that,” he hurriedly explained, then let out an awkward, dry laugh. “I am, um…. I have enjoyed myself a sufficient amount already.”

With furrowed brows, you opened your mouth to ask him to clarify, when you realized the groin area of his robes felt slightly damp where it pressed against your leg. Rolan expected you to tease him, or comfort him in a way that would only make him feel belittled. Instead, a wicked grin spread across your face, and he became the one with furrowed brows.

You ran your fingertip over the point and sides of his ear again, following it down his jawline, before hooking a finger under his chin to tilt his head upwards.

“Do I taste that good, my pretty wizard?” you purred, and Rolan’s eyes fluttered shut, a shaky exhale leaving his lips. “Or was it me telling you how good you were to me? Or, perhaps, me pulling on your pretty horns and pretty hair?"

“Yes,” he breathed, too lost in the feeling of your other hand carding through his hair before tracing circles on his back.

“Yes to which, sweetheart? Use your words.”

“All of it.”

“Good boy,” you praised, and Rolan let out the faintest groan.

You hummed amusedly, leaning down to kiss him – much too quickly for his liking, as he chased after you for more. You stopped him with a finger to his lips, and stated, “Don’t be greedy.”

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rogueddie · 9 months

Text

Part one, Part two, Part three, Part four

For the next three days, Steve spends all his time hanging with El.

It's fun. She makes a little routine, once they find things they both enjoy, and does the best she can to make sure they're both happy. Steve is only confused when Hopper acts like she's really young- he can see how mature she is. She's practically a grown up!

It's calm, quiet, repetitive. That's why, when Hopper bursts inside one day, he's startled.

He's not supposed to be back for a while yet.

El is up, immediately, with a dark expression- like she's gearing up for battle. "What is it?"

"The Harringtons are home," Hopper says as he grabs some of the things the group had gathered, temporarily belonging to Steve. "They were asking too many questions. It's not safe for him here."

"Where will he go?"

"Munson said they can make room. They'd never think to look for him there and, knowing him, kid can probably hide him better than us."

El nods, satisfied, moving to help bag Steves things.

"Am I in trouble?" Steve finally asks.

"Not if I can help it," Hopper mutters.

"You are not in trouble," El quickly clarifies. "We are trying to make sure you are safe and happy. Eddie can do that for you, now that we can't. He cares for you. It will be ok."

"Do you promise?"

"I promise."

Neither let him help them get things together for him, reassuring him that they can take care of it- of him. El tries to include him, quietly asking him to get his yellow sweater.

But, soon, they're speeding out and and away from the little cabin that Steve has grown to love.

With how small and cramped it is, it felt so homely. Cozy. Lived in. Every corner is used for something, so many little signs of love and family- from the dishrack distant enough from the sink for two people to wash and dry, to the polaroids of El and her friends stuck to the walls.

It's why, when they pull into the trailer park, Steve feels hopeful.

The door opens, as soon as they stop, Eddie darting out to meet them in the middle. He grabs the bag, crouching a little to scoop Steve up and hold him on his hip, the same way Robin did.

"I got him," he says, reassuring. He looks too frantic for it to be convincing. "Go."

"Keep your radio on," Hopper replies. "Stay safe, kid!"

The engine starts up, pulling out and away, before Eddie can even step inside the trailer.

Another man is there, lounging on the sofa- he offers a small wave when he notices Steve looking, voice low and warm when he says; "hey kid, you alright?"

Steve nods, a little too nervous from the rush and new place to speak.

"I'm gonna get him set up in my room," Eddie explains, as he starts towards the hallway.

"Yell if you need anything!"

"That's my uncle," Eddie explains, as he steps inside the end room. Theres marks and tack on the wall, where posters used to be displayed but since taken down. "He's a big ol' softie, don't worry. He's gonna love you."

It takes Steve a moment to notice that the matress is the only bed in the room.

"Stay out of this draw," Eddie says, snapping his fingers to get Steves attention. He glances at the drawers, before patting the top. "Actually, don't go in any of these. Out of bounds, got it?"

"Out of bounds," Steve repeats, nodding.

"I'm gonna have to hang these up with my stuff," Eddie continues, opening his wardrobe. "Or... in this little box? Yeah, that's perfect, I'll just put them in here."

The box is sat at the very bottom, not too high and out of Steves reach.

"Uh... my guitars, too, don't touch them."

"I won't touch your things without asking."

"Thanks. But that's all, I think. Any questions?"

"Where am I sleeping?"

"There." He points to the mattress.

"Oh... where will you sleep?"

"The sofa. Wayne and I have a whole schedule figured out. It's a pull out bed, don't stress, it's fine."

"But your bed is here."

"And you're sleeping here."

"But it... you should sleep here. It's your room."

"Would you rather share?"

Steve looks to the mattress. It's not big, barely more than a single, but he's still small. Eddie is thin.

"Yes?"

"Boys!" Eddies uncle calls, before Eddie can reply. "Food!"

"We'll talk more at bedtime, alright?" Eddie offers.

Dinner is a quiet affair. Eddie seems uncomfortable the entire time, eventually admitting that they don't usually sit down for dinner- but Wayne quickly points out that they used to, when he was a kid. He points out that Steve deserves a nice family sit down too.

Steve struggles to keep him mouth shut, face neutral, at that. Despite only just meeting the man, the ease at which he offers his home and family is... Steve isn't sure. But it makes his stomach squirm, full of warmth and affection.

Most of the day is spent in front of the TV. Eddie is the only one really watching though- Wayne spends most of the time teaching Steve how to play cards.

The sky is turning dark with the setting sun when someone starts frantically pounding at the door.

"Where is he?" A familiar voice asks, when Eddie finally answers the door. "Hop said he's here, right?"

"He's here, come on."

Wayne gestures for Steve to come back out the little cupboard Eddie hard pointed to, for him to hide in.

"Steve," Robin sighs, crouching down so she can pull him into a painfully tight hug. "Are you ok? How are you doing? Do you need anything? Are you safe here? I can-"

"Buckley," Eddie snaps. He's smiling though, playfully smacks her shoulder. "He's fine, we're taking care of him."

"Good, that's good," she says, voice distant. She's too distracted, looking him over. She pauses when she lifts his hand, spotting the nail polish. "Oh, wow. These are, uh... really pretty. I didn't know you could paint nails so good."

"El did them," he quietly admits. He glances from Wayne to Eddie-

Who holds up his own hand, showing the black nail polish he's wearing.

"Not as cute as your yellow, but hey, black is my color."

"Black isn't a color, dipshit," Robin snorts.

Steve looks to Wayne, who wiggles his eyebrows when Eddie and Robin start bickering- which quickly devolves into playful wrestling.

"Ed," Wayne says, clicking his tongue. "Time."

"Oh, fuck," Robin replies, jumping up. "I have to go."

"So soon?" Steve frowns.

"Aw, don't give me those eyes, I have to! I wasn't meant to go out at all. I'll come back tomorrow, ok? I'll figure out something we can do. Deal?"

"Deal!"

Once Wayne has seen Robin out, he turns to Eddie with a raised brow. "Time for Steve to sleep, Eds."

"It's only-"

"Ed."

"Yeah, yeah, alright. Come on, big boy."

Standing in Eddies room, they both stare at the mattress. Steve turns to him, hands on his hips, raising his eyebrows at him.

He rolls his eyes, grumbling, "alright, fine, we'll try both of us. But don't whine when we don't fit or you're uncomfortable!"

He continues grumbling, as he digs through the wardrobe and some drawers, muttering about how he hasn't had to wear a pajama set for years.

Steve points to the bed, once they're both changed; "you get in first."

"Bossy."

Once Eddies laying down, Steve crawls in beside him, curling up to his side the way he does with his mother. It's so rare that she'd let him spend a night cuddled with her, but it's always brought so much comfort.

He's surprised that it's no different when it's Eddie that he's cuddling up to- he thinks it might be better. There's no complaints about sharing space with him, rather about the space.

"Is this ok?" He has to ask.

"Yeah," Eddie mumbles, shifting a little, arm curling a little tighter around him. "Yeah, it's alright."

tag list (if you want taking off lmk x) : @songbird-garden @str4wb3rry-guy @badcaseofcasey @lioniheart @irethsune @starry-eyedlune @newtstabber @messrs-weasley @vesme @penny00dreadful @ratboybubs @ocapmycap @ellietheasexylibrarian @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @little-trash-ghost @lazyavenuewhispers @paintsplatteredandimperfect @mightbeasleep @anaibis @sleepyboosstuff @thesuninyaface @morpheusmunson @notfrogsunderatrenchcoat @novelnovella @tartarusknight @spectrum-spectre @hotluncheddie @malicia62 @tencents121 @lightwoodbanethings @steddie-steddie @dragonmama76 @weirdandabsurd42 @lenathegay @theequeervibes @7shrewsinatrenchcoat @g4ys0n @subversivecynic @bleedingoptimism @eyesofshinigami @disrespectedgoatman @skiddit @chaoticlovingdreamer @estrellami-1 @chrystal-lovee @m-owo-n @fandommaniac123 @jackievsn @greekgeek24 @ajeff855

#stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #ficlet

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astronomysturniolos · 2 months

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matt sturniolo x gf!reader

best birthday gift

warnings: smut, p in v, y/n, cussing, and fingering.

summary: it’s your bf matt’s 21st birthday and you want to make it special for him, make him feel good.

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the flick of the candle is the only sound in the house. usually it isn’t this quiet, dating matt for 2 years, everything has been noisy. but he’s out to dinner tonight, for his special day. he’s turning 21, and i wanted him to have a good time, even after he comes home.

the room is dark, the candle being the only light source available. i am standing in front of the mirror, vertically lined on our wall, showcasing all my curves, shadows, and imperfections. even if matt thinks their perfect. i am second guessing everything, until i hear the front door open. “hey, baby, i’m home” i hear matt yell from downstairs. oh god. i’m so nervous. what if he thinks i’m doing too much. what if he thinks this set is ugly, or even worse me. what if- my thoughts get shut off at the sound of matt saying my name.

“y/n? holy shit. you look edible.” he breathes out, staring me down. i take another look in the mirror, looking at the white flowery langerai i have on display, contrasting with my smooth, tanned skin. “do u like it?” i ask shyly. playing with the straps going down my thighs. “no, i don’t” matt replies seriously. i whip my head to face him, fear showing in between my furrowed brows. “i love it” he says after, a wide grin taking over his face.

a sigh of relief comes out of me as i run my hands through my newly straightened hair.

he makes his way over to to me, standing behind me, making eye contact through the same mirror i’ve been standing at for the last 15 minutes. he wraps his hands around my waist, flicking the straps in between his fingers. “you look so pretty baby, just right for me” he whispers. “yeah?” i respond. “mhm” he just mumbles before attacking my neck with his lips.

things get heated fast as our teeth clatter, our tongues fighting for dominance as we walk to the bed. ripping our clothes off on the way, the need to be naked is taking over our brains. once we are both fully nude, he hovers over me, disconnecting our lips. i flutter my eyes open and stare at his beautiful blue ones . and damn it he’s beautiful. the way he’s trying to catch his breath, his hair is covering his forehead, and his horse chain is dangling in my face. i just want to bring the chain in between my teeth and drag him into another kiss. “what’s on your mind?” he asks, wondering why i’ve just been silently staring at him. “i just love you so much” i say quietly, adoring how his eyes light up instantly. “i love you too baby” he says, leaving small kisses starting from my neck, then my shoulders. “so so much” he says in between another kiss landing just above my tits.

he latches his tongue on my right nipple, his hand groping the other. and fuck, this feels amazing. a moan escapes my lips as i dart my head back, the feeling blazing through my veins. “you like it huh?” he asks smugly, immediately returning to the dirty act. “mhm” i reply, my head shaking up and down to clarify as if my whines aren’t enough.

after a while of just him playing with my tits, the throbbing sensation in between my legs is getting hotter. “matt.” i say breathlessly, almost finishing just by him playing with me. “yes baby?” he asks, looking up at me, a grin on his face. “i need you.” i say. “do you now? what do you need?” i rub my legs together to add some friction, desperately trying to put the fire down. “i need your dick. in me. right. now.” i reply, more forward than i ever had any time we’ve fucked. usually he would initiate it, so he was a little shocked at my words. “look at you, so needy of me, are you now?” he asks, expecting no reply, but i give him one regardless. “yes, now fuck me” i say, putting my hands in his hair as i push him in between my legs.

he trails kisses down my thighs until he gets to my heat. “so beautiful aren’t you” he says before entering one of his fingers enter my hole, and i arch at the feeling, finally getting something. “more, please” i whine. he adds another finger in, my gosh. this is a great feeling. he thrusts his fingers in and out of my tight hole, curling them at times. a pornographic moan leaves my mouth, almost cumming at the feeling. “matt. please put your dick in me.” i say, starting to get impatient.

he lines his tip to my hole, pushing the tip through and we both groan. he balances himself with his hands on my bed frame, almost falling on me. and that damn chain. in my face, dangling like a puppy treat. i grab it in between my teeth, muffling my noises as he fully pushes his whole 8 inches in me. he lets me adjust to his size until i give him a nod of approval to continue. he almost fully pulls out before thrusting hard into me, making me let out a noise i’ve never made before, the necklace falling out of my mouth. “making you feel good? hm?” matt asks, sweat dripping down his nose, as my hands connect to his fluffy brunette hair. “yes matt, faster” i say, already feeling my release coming, considering i was close enough with just his two fingers.

his eyes trained on my tits bounces up and down as his thrusts begin to get sloppy “i’m so close baby, a little more” he says, then mumbling more words that i’m not sure are even making real sentences, but i’m too blurred to care. “me too” i say, right before i feel him hit the right spot, making me arch my back, moaning loudly.

he connects our lips, soaking up my whines, before he says “i’m cumming. shit. i’m cumming” “me too matt, me too” i repeat. before we connect our lips again. i feel one last thrust directly before he fills me up, staying on top of me, his sweat mixing with mine as it drips from above me. our breathes mixing together, as we pant for air, our lips touching but not connected.

after we rode out our highs, and settled down he pulls out. i wince at the feeling, suddenly empty. he plops next to me, looking over at me. “happy birthday baby” i say to him, putting my head in his bare chest, as i feel his hands rub up and down my back. “thank you my love, i love you” he replies tiredly, putting his chin on the top of my head, “i love you too” i say before sleep takes over both of us. guess he could say that was the best birthday gift ever.

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anna speaks: in honor of my birthday being in 2 days!! 😮😮 also i never wrote smut for matt and only wrote smut once before this so ntm pls🙏🏻

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underground-secret · 2 months

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The Hunter and the Witch~ Dean Winchester x F! reader

Description: When Dean gets a call from an "old friend" asking for help, old feelings resurface leaving for messy feelings and a complicated hunt.

Warnings: canon violence, feelings of unrequited love, angst, loving someone being difficult, corpses, crime scenes, cursing, mentions of racism, racist ghost truck?

Tag list: @jesllianaquilesrolonsworld , @okayiamkassandra , @fablesrose , @ada--44 , @bonkydarnes , @star-yawnznn , @crazyunsexycool

Word Count: 9,251

Route 666

(Master list, Prev Ch, Next Chapter)

I lean against the expanse of the Impala, letting the bright sun shine over me. It was one of those cold but not cold days, where as long as the sun was hitting you it was perfectly right. Sam is next to me looking over the large map he has laid out on the hood of the car, trying to look for a way around a closed-off road.

I’m glad he knew what he was doing ‘cause my map and geography skills only went so far before I was lost.

Meanwhile, Dean was off to the side, his phone pressed to his ear his brows furrowed whoever he was talking to was clearly telling him something important and maybe shocking.

“Ok. I think I found a way we can bypass that construction just East of here,” Sam informs gaining my attention, “We might even make Pennsylvania faster than we thought.” I nod, taking advantage of his hunched-over figure to ruffle his hair, “Nice work, map man.” He snorts, rolling his eyes as he pushes my arm away playfully.

“Yeah. ‘Problem is, we’re not going to Pennsylvania” Dean points out, closing his phone and looking at it thoughtfully. I look at him confused, “We aren’t…?” He nods, wetting his lips, “I just got a call from an, uh, old friend. Her father was killed last night, think it might be our kind of thing.”

“What?” Sam vocalizes. “Yeah. Believe me, she never woulda called, never, if she didn’t need us” Dean clarifies. Without giving us any more information or even a chance to contemplate or counter his statement he gets in the car, “Come on, are you coming or not?”

The Impala cruises down the expanse of the road, a long beautifully green field on one side and a lake on the other. “By old friend you mean…?” Sam asks the question we were both undeniably thinking. “A friend that’s not new” Dean grumbles.

“Oh! Thanks, genius” I remark, he was being weird and that alone was not helping his case. “‘Said her name’s Cassie huh?” Sam said, trying a different angle, “You never mentioned her…”

“Didn’t I?” Dean remarks. He wasn't very good at hiding this one, the car falling silent in the wake of his stupid answer. He finally huffs, “Yeah, we went out.”

“You mean you dated somebody?” Sam asks with a snort, “For more than one night?”

“Oh come on Sammy we're all adults here, we’ve all dated before” I chime in with a smirk. He turns around in his seat, facing me with an expectant look, “Are we talking about the same person here? Dean doesn't date.” Sam exclaims and I push down the ache of that implication, “And aren’t you the least bit curious.”

“Oh no, I am,” I nod enthusiastically, laughing lightly, “I want all the details. I was just tryna be nice.”

He snickers, turning back to his brother, “You heard her, we want all the details.”

I swear Dean’s eye practically twitches, “Am I speaking a language you’re not getting here? Dad and I were working a job in Ohio, she was finishing up college. We went out for a coupla weeks.”

I want to ask how long ago this was, was it months before his dad disappeared or a year or more ago, but I hold back on my questioning. “And…?” Sam pushes. Dean shrugs slightly.

“Look, it’s terrible about her dad, but it kinda sounds like a standard car accident. I’m not seeing how it fits with what we do,” Sam reasons, “Which by the way, how does she know what we do?”

Dean doesn't answer again, silently shifting in his seat uncomfortably. The realization hits me like a brick, “Oh. My. God,” I lean forward in my seat almost getting choked out by my seatbelt, “You told her! You broke the number one hunting rule! You know, not telling anyone, ever!”

“More than that!” Sam adds, “It’s our big family rule. Number one. We do what we do and we shut up about it. For a year and a half, I did nothing but lie to Jessica, and you go out with this chick in Ohio a coupla times and you tell her everything?!” I try not to think about my own relationships both romantic and not that rarely ever made it past a couple of months before it ended, not only having to lie about being a hunter but a witch too. Dean stays silent, staring straight ahead, “Dean!” Sam yells.

“Yeah. Looks like,” he finally acknowledges. He continues to stare ahead, pressing his foot down harder on the gas pedal. Sam shakes his head, giving his brother his classic bitchface.

“Oh. He had it bad” I laugh leaning back in my seat, ignoring the sinking and stabbing feeling in my heart. I figured I’d have to keep doing so on this hunt.

The office was dark, the bright sunlight not able to stretch upon the large room not even with the help of glass doors. The place could really open a couple of blinds, let the light shine in.

An old white man with an interesting-looking tie, one of those Western ones with the jewel and black tether, talks to two people a man and a woman their backs towards us. And the way Dean pauses, staring at the woman it isn't hard to deduce she's Cassie. She and the older black gentlemen next to her seem to be having some sort of dispute with the old white guy.

Then suddenly both of the men walk away, clearly frustrated, leaving Cassie to stand there herself. She turns around swiftly, and almost like a perfectly curated romance movie she nearly hits Dean only inches separating the two. I didn't even realize he had moved forward in the time we've been standing here.

Just looking at her I could tell why Dean fell for her, she's beautiful more than that. She could be a model with her beautiful long dark curls framing her face, full lips colored red, and big brown eyes. She must have stepped out of a magazine, everything about her screamed perfect down to her perfectly shaped eyebrows and perfect nose. “Dean,” she says, her voice smooth despite the look of slight apprehension.

He nods and grins, “Hey Cassie.” And they just stare at each other. He's looking at her in a way I’ve never seen him look at anyone before even despite the tension that hung in the air, unspoken words from however long ago.

His eyes seem to glimmer, you’d have to be a fool not to see he still has feelings for her, that they never went away in the first place. And that it’s more than just any feelings, he loves her and that is a hard pill to swallow.

He clears his throat, breaking the trance they were both in, “This is my brother Sam. And my friend Y/N.” She smiles at each of us before her gaze reverts to Dean, not that I could blame her in the slightest.

“Sorry ‘bout your dad,” he says.

“Yeah. Me too,” she answers.

Her family home was beautiful and extraordinarily large, it was a bit disturbing. Though maybe that was because it reminded me of my home before moving to Kansas, or at least what I remember of it. We sat in the sitting room on vintage settees, another reminder of that home–my mother would quite like the look of this cozy room.

Cassie finally comes back adorning a tray of tea cups and a teapot along with the little bowl of sugar and a small pouring cup of milk, could she get any more perfect and wonderful? “My mothers in pretty bad shape. I’ve been staying with her. I wish she wouldn’t go off by herself. She’s been so nervous and frightened. She was worried about Dad,” she explains.

“Why?” Dean asks as she takes a seat across from us. He was watching her every move as if dedicating it to memory, I wonder if he’s thinking ‘She moves in the same manner she used to’ or maybe that it changed. Suddenly I was not so okay with sitting between the boys even though that's almost how we always sat when talking to someone on a hunt, as it made it harder for them to fight and made them slightly more comfortable with squishing into sofas with their large frames. But now, being in the middle I could easily watch how he looked at her, studied her.

She skillfully pours tea into each cup, “He was scared. He was seeing things.”

“Like what?” He asked.

“He swore he saw an awful-looking black truck following him,” she responds carefully.

“A truck, did he see a driver?” I ask, diligently accepting the beautiful teacup she handed me. I take a careful sip of the black tea, of course she would know and pick the perfect tea for guests. Does she have any flaws?

“He didn’t talk about a driver,” she answers, “Just the truck. He said it would appear and disappear. And, in the accident, Dad’s car was dented, like it had been slammed into by something big.”

Sam accepts his cup of tea, “Thanks. Now you’re sure this dent wasn’t there before?” And as predictable as Dean was he looked at his cup weirdly before depositing it back on the tray, that man was not a tea person he’d take a coffee or a beer any day. I think the only reason he drank the tea I gave him when he was sick was because he knew how desperate Sammy and I were.

“He sold cars. Always drove a new one. There wasn’t a scratch on that thing,” she explains, “It had rained hard that night. There was mud everywhere. There was a distinct set of muddy tracks leading from Dad’s car…leading right to the edge, where he went over.” She swallows harshly, bowing her head, “One set of tracks. His.”

Dean’s face softens, eyes filling with sympathy, “The first was a friend of your father's?” She nods, “Best friend. Clayton Soames. They owned the car dealership together. Same thing. Dent. No tracks. And the cops said exactly what they said about Dad. He ‘lost control of his car.’”

I force my brain to rid itself of any thoughts of Dean and Cassie's relationship. This was like any other hunt, something weird is going on and we are here to help, nothing more.

It was weird, cars don't just drive off the road like that and then have newly made dents that match another vehicle. “Is there any reason you can think of as to why your father and his partner might've been targets? Competition?” I ask. She shakes her head, radiating certainty, “No.”

“And you think this vanishing truck ran them off the road?” Sam points out.

“When you say it aloud like that…,” she sighs, “listen, I’m a little skeptical about this…ghost stuff…or whatever it is you guys are into.”

Dean huffs, “Skeptical. If I remember, I think you said I was nuts.”

“That was then,” she bites back. Then they fall back into that thing where they just stare at each other, “I just know that I can’t explain what happened up there. So I called you,” she adds, directing her words only to him. I clear my throat, weary of the bubble they seem to have put around themselves, “You were right in calling” I reasoned softly, “It is very strange and on the off chance it isn’t anything supernatural then it was certainly a cover-up.”

Her perfect eyebrows furrow but before she can respond the sound of the front door opening catches all of our attention, a middle-aged white woman enters through and I assume it's her mother. She shared her mother's eye shape and her nose, but the rest of her she must have gotten from her father.

As if we had gotten caught we all rise from the sofa. Cassie goes over to her mother, taking her arm, “Mom. Where have you been I was so…” her mother cuts her off looking at us, “I had no idea you'd invited friends over.”

“Mom, this Dean, a…friend of mine from…college. ‘His brother Sam and friend Y/N.”

“Well, I won’t interrupt you” her mother smiles nervously.

“Mrs Robinson,” Dean says suddenly, “We’re sorry for your loss. We’d like to talk to you for a minute if you don’t mind.” And as if offended she recoils, “I’m really not up for that right now.”

The morning sun is dimmer today, perfect for the scene we were walking upon. The man Cassie was standing with yesterday, Jimmy, was the newest victim. He died in the same way as the others sometime late last night. Cassie was again arguing with the old white man from yesterday. As we approached I could hear his condescending voice, “Close the man road. The only road in and out of town? Accidents do happen Cassie, and that’s what they are. Accidents.”

We stand beside her, Dean speaking up immediately, “Did the cops check for additional denting on Jimmy’s car, see if it was pushed?”

Without missing a beat and without looking away from Cassie the man asks, “Who’s this?”

“Dean and Sam Winchester, Y/N L/N. Family friends. This is Mayor Harold Todd” She replies smoothly. This man went from just any old white guy to a powerful old white guy, even worse. And he had two first names, you never trust someone with two first names. Reluctantly Mayor Old Guy answers Dean’s initial question, “There’s one set of tire tracks. One. ‘Doesn’t point to foul play.”

Cassie scuffs, “Mayor, the police, and town officials take their cues from you. If you’re indifferent about…”

He cuts her off, “Indifferent!”

“Would you close the road if the victims were white?” she counters.

Oh. Could she get any more iconic?!

“You suggesting I’m racist Cassie?” He spits, “I’m the last person you should talk to like that.”

“And why is that?” She counters, stepping closer to him.

“Why don’t you ask your mother” he answers before walking away. My jaw drops, what the hell is going on in this town?

I huff, blowing a piece of hair out of my face. I really didn’t want to get dressed, for as much as I’ve been trying to ignore the whole Dean and Cassie situation I was feeling horrible.

I sit on the soft motel bed in nothing but my underwear and a nice white button-down, haven given up on dressing. I feel stupid. Incredibly stupid.

Maybe Sam’s words had gotten to me, maybe I had gotten my hopes up without even realizing it.

He loves someone else, and he’s had for a while. I always thought when you love someone those feelings don’t ever truly go away, there's always a part of you with them. They wind up crossing your mind and you wonder where things went wrong. But I guess I never considered this would also apply to Dean, which is cruel to believe within itself. Which is funny too, all these years I’ve spent loving him…But Sam was right he didn’t date so I guess I assumed he never fell for anyone during his countless one-night stands.

I know death is cruel but maybe love is tied with it. Because I feel like someone took my heart and ran with it, leaving me with this void in my chest and an ache so intense that it throbs in its place. It was stupid to think I had a chance to begin with. I knew not to believe I had one in the first place, but somewhere along the line I had completely forgotten about any of that. So much for listening to my past self, if I had maybe I wouldn't be feeling so damn bad.

But I couldn't be mad. Cassie was wonderful in every possible way and you don't need to know her for long to realize that. They seemed perfect for each other really. She was feisty and had no issue putting someone in their place, which I quite admired, and I know Dean could use that every now and then. If she was a jerk I’m sure I’d have no issue disliking her, but she wasn’t! She was impossible to dislike, and it would be horrible of me to hate her just because she harbors feelings for someone that I love or the fact that he loves her back. That wasn't her fault, it was neither of their faults.

Loving someone has to be the hardest thing one could do.

I get up from the bed and put on my skirt. I couldn't sit here forever, the boys would come knocking and I wouldn't have a good excuse as to why I’m in a mood. Quickly I check myself in the mirror, at least I didn’t cry which means I don't gotta redo my makeup, even if it was minimal to begin with.

How do you stop loving someone? I could use that answer.

I knew I loved him for a long time, too long. But I suppose I didn’t realize just how bad it had gotten, how much it had flourished and I had never expected that to be possible. I love him.

I love him and it hurts so much.

How many times did I have the opportunity to tell him? It had to be in the hundreds. Maybe it was better that I didn’t, he loves someone else and I should be happy for them. I am happy for him. He deserves to be loved and be able to love. Yes, I am happy.

I approach the two older men having lunch, focusing on the wet ground and the wholesomeness that is them eating on a pier. “Hi, sorry. Are you Ron Stubbins?” I ask, taking the lead. I needed to throw myself into the work, I needed the distraction. The older man nods looking at us confused, his black cap bobbing with his head. “You were friends with Jimmy Anderson?” Dean follows up.

“Who are you?” Ron responds with, sitting up straighter. He was sizing us up, skeptical of us, which he had every right to be. “We’re Mr. Anderson’s insurance company. We’re just here to dot ‘I’s’ and cross ‘T’s’,” Dean explains, flashing his badge.

“And they needed to send three of you?” He counters. I giggle, tilting my head slightly, “Would you prefer me leaving?” I ask sweetly. And as predictable as men can be he drags his eyes across my body before shaking his head, “No. No. That won’t be necessary.” I ignore the dirty feeling that washes over me and sticks to my bones like a new layer of skin, it was necessary to do that because now he won’t bother questioning us anymore on that topic.

“We were just wondering, had the deceased mentioned any unusual recent experiences?” Sam questions, getting back on topic. Reluctantly Ron looks away from me to look at the man who questioned him, “What do you mean, unusual?”

“Well visions, hallucinations” He elaborates.

“We’re working with local psychologists to broaden our questioning and research,” I explain, trying to clear the confusion from his face, “It’s all very standard.”

“What company did you say you were with?” Ron counters. Maybe he was more on guard than I thought. “All National Mutual” Dean answers smoothly, “Tell me, did he ever mention seeing a truck? A big black truck?”

“What the hell ‘you talking about?” Ron exclaims, “‘You even speaking English?”

Wow, what a lovely guy.

“Son this truck, a big scary monster-looking thing?” Ron's friend suddenly says.

“Yeah actually, I think so” Dean answers. The man hums to himself in thought, please let this interaction be useful. “You’ve heard of something like that?” I ask the man. “I have,” he nods, not bothering to elaborate.

“You have. Where?” Sam pushes.

“Not where,” he finally answers, “When. Back in the ‘60s, there was a string of deaths. Black men. Story goes, they disappeared in a big, nasty, black truck.”

“They ever catch the guy?” I ask. He shrugs, “Never found him. Hell, not even sure they really looked. See there was a time, ‘this town wasn’t too friendly to all its citizens.”

“Thank you” Sam nods.

We walk away, heading back to the Impala. “Well, it seems like history is repeating itself,” I began, “From the lack of investigation and racism down to the–”

“Truck,” Dean says, finishing my sentence. “Keeps coming up doesn’t it?” Sam adds.

“You know, I was thinking. You heard of the Flying Dutchman?” Dean asks.

“Yeah, a ghost ship, infused with the Captian’s evil spirit. It was basically part of him” Sam answers, explaining the lore. Dean nods, “So what if we’re dealing with the same thing? You know, a phantom truck, an extension of some bastard’s ghost, re-enacting past crimes.”

“The victims have been black men” Sam continues the theory. I half-shrug, “I don't know. The town has to have more than a handful of black people, but it only seems to be going after specific people. It’s practically targeting those connected to Cassie and her family. I’m sure there’s some deeper link there.”

“That’s why I think it’s more than that,” Dean says.

“All right. Well, you work that angle, go talk to her,” Sam tells his brother specifically, clearly playing matchmaker. “Yeah, I will,” Dean agrees.

“Oh, and you might also wanna mention that other thing” Sam noted, a playful smile on his lips. Always the meddler. “What other thing?” Dean asks, either genuinely lost or faking it. “The serious, unfinished business?” Sam elaborates. I huff a laugh, “Yeah, seriously Dean it's so painfully obvious. Just talk to the girl.” It pained me to even suggest that, to motivate him in such a way but I want him to be happy, and if that means being with her then so be it.

Dean stops just as we reach the car, going obstinately silent. Sam huffs a laugh this time, “Dean, what is going on between you two?”

“All right, so maybe we were a little more involved than I said,” he finally admits. I give him a pointed look, “Yeah…that was obvious.”

He huffs, “A lot more. Maybe. And I told her our secret, about what we do. And I shouldn’t have.”

“Ah look man, everybody’s gotta open up to someone sometime,” Sam reasons, being a little too understanding compared to how we were only yesterday. “Yeah I don’t,” Dean argues, “It was stupid to get that close. I mean, look how it ended.”

I smile at him softly, hoping any sadness is concealed far behind my eyes, and I realize Sam is giving him the same look except he’s nearly beaming. “Would you both stop!” he shouts. But we don't because this is a side of Dean we’ve never seen before, and it is beautiful even if it's heartbreaking for me. “Someone blink or something!” he exclaims, throwing his hands up.

“You loved her,” I say softly, the gape in my chest deepening at the verbal declaration. Saying it aloud was so much worse. “Oh God,” he groans, turning to the Impala. “You still do!” I call after him.

“You were in love with her, but you dumped her,” Sam states, connecting the pieces. Dean goes silent, staring at the ground, then carefully glances at his brother before reverting his eyes. “Oh wow. She dumped you.”

I have to stop myself from taking in a sharp breath, there was a lot to this he wasn’t telling us. But why would she break up with him if she still has feelings?

“Get in the car” Dean demands, done being “emotional” and open, “Get in the car!”

Sam hands me my hot chocolate, but not even the sweet treat or the soft snow falling just outside can lift my mood. It makes me feel a little better but it does not fix my heart. Dean didn’t come back last night and I know it’s because he spent the night at Cassie’s. I’m happy they worked things out and hopefully had a wonderful night but again it does not fix my heart.

I held the cup tighter, welcoming the immense warmth it brought to my frozen hands as we stepped out of the small coffee shop. The air was crisp yet gentle as the light fluffy snowflakes descended onto us, the cold flakes collecting in my hair. A small smile graced my face, maybe it was making me feel better. I like the cold, preferred it even, I was cozy in my thick turtle neck and my favorite fleeced-lined jacket.

Sam and I walk in comfortable silence side by side, sipping from our cups and basking in the scenery of the unexpected snow. It was early May in Missouri, it really shouldn’t be snowing but I suppose if it could snow here a little in April then early May couldn't be that weird. Plus it was a light snow that likely wouldn't even stick. But the calming scenery is cut in half by an ambulance that speeds past us, sirens blaring. We share a questioning look but ultimately ignore it until two cop cars rush past us heading the same way. That we can’t ignore. With another shared look, we follow after the sirens.

I look out at the macabre scene, the yellow caution tape not having stopped me from investigating thanks to the use of a fake ID. The body had been bagged after countless photos were taken, but the blood of Mayor Todd still stains the streets. It was a gruesome scene, arguably worse than the others in this case his organs squished out like roadkill and, truthfully, that’s what he had become.

“L/N” Sam calls out from just a few feet behind me. I turned around swiftly, the snow whirling around me, Dean stood next to his brother. He came.

I walk over to the two boys, watching Dean’s clear expression of shock masked by annoyance, “‘You gonna ask me a bunch of questions too?” he asks. I look at him confused, “...no” I drag out slowly. His face seems to relax slightly, something unrecognizable passing in his eyes, “Good,” he nods.

“I already know you made up–made out” I add, his face drops, “Anyways, crime scene,” I point behind me.

“Every bone crushed. Internal organs turned to pudding,” Sam explains the case, catching his brother up, “The cops are all stumped, it’s like something ran him over.” The wind picks up again, swirling the snow in its own private storm, the cold will help with the case as it preserves the body longer. “Something like a truck?” Dean asks, gaining his footing in the case.

“Yeah, except of course there’s no tracks” I answer. He nods, rubbing a hand down his jaw and I have to force my eyes away from the movement, “What was the Mayor doing here anyway?”

“He owned the property. Bought it a few weeks ago” Sam says referring to the building site.

“But he’s white, doesn’t fit the pattern,” Dean points out. Sam nods, “Killings didn’t happen up on the road. That doesn’t fit either.”

I shove my hands into my pocket, taking a quick look back at the crime scene before turning back to the boys, “Then it seems like this case is one of revenge.”

I shuffle through the papers in front of me, glad that I was sent to do research at the town's main library rather than be at the newspaper office with the boys and Cassie. She was probably looking at him all sweetly and being a kind person, and I did not wish to see the loving way they looked at each other. And if avoiding that meant having my nose in dusty boxes of court records then that was okay.

I pull out my phone calling Sam directly instead of Dean, the phone rings a couple of times before he picks up, “Hi” I greet, “I got some info.”

The line goes quiet for a second before I hear his voice, “Alright you're on speaker.”

“Ok, so,” I start, balancing my phone between my ear and my shoulder as I look over the papers, “I have courthouse records here, and according to them Mr and Mrs Mayor bought an abandoned property. The previous owner was the Dorian family who owned it for, like, 150 years.”

“Dorian?” Dean repeats back. “Yes.”

His voice grows quieter but still in range enough for me to hear, “Didn’t you say the Dorian family used to own this paper?” he asks someone else in the room. “Along with everything else around here. Real pillars of the town,” Cassie answers. “Right, right” Dean responds followed by the clicking of keys.

“You got something there?” I ask, readjusting my phone.

“Think so” Sam mumbles, seemingly focused on whatever was happening over at the office.

“This Cyrus Dorian. He vanished in April of ‘63. The case was investigated but never solved. It was right around the time the string of murders was going on back then,” Dean informs, adding more information to what that man yesterday had told us.

“Well to add to that information, the Dorian place seemed to be in really bad shape when the Mayber bought it,” I add, “He bulldozed the place.”

“Mayor Todd knocked down the Dorian place?” Dean asks, presumably, Cassie. “It was a big deal” she answers, “One of the oldest houses left. He made the front page.” I huff a breath, everything connecting yet leaving so many questions at the same time. “You got a date, Y/N?” Dean calls back.

“Um,” I hum shuffling the papers around and reading over the words quickly, “‘3rd of last month.” The line goes quiet again the only sound ringing back being the sharp noise of fingers on a keyboard, “Mayor Todd bulldozed the Dorian family home on the 3rd,” Dean finally responds, “The first killing was the next day.”

Pouring the boiled water into the mug I take a quick look back, Dean kneels in front of the shaken-up Cassie rubbing her knee softly and looking at her with pure determination and adoration. I swallow roughly looking back at the mugs in front of me, nearly overspilling and burning myself.

This was not the time to grieve a love that never happened. Cassie called Dean afraid, having seen the black truck. We were here to help, I was making a soothing herbal tea for her and her mother to calm the nerves.

Finishing with the mugs I carefully carry them into the sitting room. Sam takes one from me, gently handing it to her mother. I hand the mug to Cassie, her shaky hands accepting and rattling the cup, Dean immediately moves to sit at her side but it does not stop his protectiveness if anything it amplifies it; he practically radiates it. “Maybe you should throw a couple of shots in here,” she says, half joking.

I huff a laugh, “Well while the effects of alcohol do have the capabilities of easing the central nervous system, when the effects wear off your body will be jolted back from its depressive state which would really only make you feel worse, more anxious as well as stressed.”

She gives me a half, almost awkward, smile before taking a sip from her mug. Did I say too much? Why didn’t someone stop me? Someone should’ve just cut me off, especially if I wasn’t helping.

“You didn’t see who was driving the truck,” Sam says suddenly, pulling the awkwardness out of the air. “It seemed to be no one. Everything was moving so fast. And then it was just gone,” she explains, “Why didn’t it kill us?”

“Whoever was controlling the truck wants you afraid first,” Dean answers. This would explain why at least one of the victims had seen it and truthfully thought they were going mad. “Mrs Robinson,” Sam began, “Cassie said that your husband saw the truck before he died.” Mrs Robinson doesn't answer, seemingly lost in her mind as she shakes. “Mom?” Cassie says carefully, worry laced in her voice.

The older Robinson shakes her head nervously, “Oh. Martin was under a lot of stress. You can’t be sure about what he was seeing.”

“Well after tonight I think we can be reasonably sure he was seeing a truck. What happened tonight, you and Cassie are marked. Ok?” Dean snaps, “Your daughter could die. So if you know something now would be a really good time to tell us about it.”

“Dean…” Cassie warns. But her mother's face contorts in emotion, something in her breaking, “Yes. Yes, he said he saw a truck.”

“Did he know who it belonged to?” Sam asks, taking a seat across from the woman. “He thought he did,” she answers cryptically. “Who was that?” Dean pushes. Her eyes get watery and she sinks into herself, “Cyrus. A man named Cyrus.”

My gaze flickers to the boys, we are all thinking the same thing, I look back at her, “By any chance was it Cyrus Dorian?” I ask carefully. Dean pulls out a newspaper from inside his coat, handing it to the woman. She doesn't shake her head or nod only replying with, “Cyrus Dorian died more than 40 years ago.”

“How do you know he died, Mrs Robinson?” Dean asks softly, “The papers said he went missing. How do you know he died?”

She hesitates, her mouth agape like a fish out of water or in reality that of a person who got caught, “We were all very young,” she says, “I dated Cyrus a while, I was also seeing Martin…in secret of course. Interracial couples didn’t go over too well back then. When I broke it off with Cyrus and when he found out about Martin, I don’t know, he, changed. His hatred. His hatred was frightening.”

“The murder,” Sam voices.

Her voice wobbles, “They were rumors. People of color disappearing into some kind of truck. Nothing ‘ever done,” she swallows shifting in her seat, “Martin and a…Martin and I, we were gonna be, uh, married in that little church near here, but last minute we decided to elope as we didn’t want the attention.” She pushes her short hair out of her face, stressed. “And what became of Cyrus?” I ask.

Endless tears fall down her cheeks, “The day we set for the wedding, was the day someone set fire to the church. There was a children’s choir practicing in there. They all died.” I suppress the gasp that wishes to leave my lips, the room seems to dim with the information. What was meant to be a beautiful day was soiled by the blood of innocents.

“Did the attacks stop after that?” Sam asks softly, careful of her fragile mindset.

A sob escapes from her chest, “No! There was one more. One night that truck came for Martin. Cyrus beat him terribly. But Martin, you see, Martin got loose. And he started hitting Cyrus and he just kept hitting him and hitting him.”

“Why didn’t you call the cops?” Dean pushes. She continues to cry, “This was forty years ago. He called on his friends, Clayton Soames and Jimmy Anderson, and they put Cyrus’ body into the truck and they rolled it into the swamp at the end of his land and all three of them kept that secret all of these years.”

“And now all three are gone,” Sam acknowledges. This all confirms the theory of a vengeful spirit. “And so is Mayor Todd,” Dean adds, “Now he said that you of all people would know he is not a racist. Why would he say that?”

“He was a good man,” Mrs Robinson answers, “He was a young deputy back then investigating Cyrus’ disappearance. Once he figured out what Martin and the others had done he…he did nothing, because he also knew what Cyrus had done.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Cassie asks, her voice hard yet full of emotion. I couldn't imagine what was going on in her head, to find out something like this–“I thought I was protecting them. And now there’s no one left to protect,” her mother reasons.

“Yes, there is” Dean counters, fiercely. His green eyes harden with determination as he looks at Cassie.

I sit on the cold hood of the Impala, gently kicking my legs back and forth watching Dean pace in front of me. Sam leans against the car next to me, his arms crossed as he too watches his brother, “Ah, my life was so simple. Just school, exams, papers on polycentric cultural norms…”

I look at him with an amused smile, “I have no idea what that last part is but it sounds fun!” That stops Dean in his tracks for just a half of a second, he points at us, “No it doesn’t. I saved him from a boring existence.”

“Yeah, occasionally I miss boring” Sam reasons. I nod enthusiastically, “Honestly, we have not had a normal day in like months. Kinda miss it.”

Dean brushes our light complaining off, “So this killer truck–”

“I miss conversations that didn’t start with ‘this killer truck’” Sam quips with a dramatic sigh. I failed to hold back my laughter, Dean laughs lightly and for a brief moment, things feel how they used to, “Well this Cyrus guy. Evil on a level that infected even his truck. When he died, the swamp became his tomb, and his spirit was dormant for 40 years.”

“So what woke it up?” Sam asks.

“The construction on his house. Or the destruction,” Dean points out.

“Right. Demolition or remodeling can awaken spirits, make them restless” Sam recalls. His brother hums a ‘yes’, nodding.

“Like that theater in Illinois, ya know?” Sam references, and I in fact had no idea what he was talking about. “And the guy that tore down the family homestead, Harold Todd, is the same guy that kept Cyrus’ murder quiet and unsolved,” Dean adds, bringing it back to the case at hand.

“So now his spirit is awakened and out for blood,” Sam acknowledges.

“Yeah, I guess. Who knows what ghosts are thinking anyway” Dean shrugs.

“Wait, does this mean we have to go swimming in that swamp?” I ask. I mean if we had to salt and burn the bones then we would need said bones which are in a swamp, how nice. Dean smiles at me, I know that look. “No” I warn, pointing at him like an animal that did something wrong. “You said it” he rationalizes.

“Noooo” I whine a pout on my lips, “Do I have to do it alone?”

His wicked smile deepens, “‘Course not, Sammy’s gonna be with you.”

Sam’s shoulders drop, “Man,” he sighs.

Suddenly a familiar figure approaches, her hands tucked into the back pocket of her jeans. Dean stands up straighter, “Hey.” She smiles sadly, “Hey. She’s asleep. Now what?”

“Well, you should stay put, look after her…and we’ll be back. Don’t leave the house,” Dean explains, looking at her in that way that hurts my heart. But she smiles, any worry melting off her face, “Don’t go getting all authoritative on me. I hate it.”

Dean glances back at us, Sam looks down grinning acting as if neither of us could hear the conversation. He turns back to Cassie mumbling something I can't quite make out but whatever it was must have been good because he slowly leans in to kiss her. I drop my head and gaze at the very interesting ground, trying my best to ignore the sound of their intensifying making out. A pang of jealousy, longing, and pain shoots through my chest. If the ground wanted to just open up and consume me now I wouldn’t complain, I’d even help it and just throw myself in it wouldn’t have to work very hard. Sam clears his throat, I look up but Dean just holds out a finger to wait as he brings Cassie even closer.

I drop my eyes again.

Loving someone never hurt so bad. Loving him never hurt so bad.

Was it wrong to love him? Was this always going to be my fate? To see him evermore with other girls, loving them more than he could ever love me.

“You two comin’ or what?” Dean asks. I look up once more and this time his lips aren’t on Cassie.

I tug on the chain again, making sure it's secure, my hands getting wet in the process. I wipe my icky hands off on my jeans as I back away, “Alright he’s good,” I call out to Sam who stands feet away from me, closer to the butt of the pickup Dean was driving. He gives a thumbs up to his brother who begins to move the car forward, the pickup moving slowly in the weight of the heavy truck and water pressure.

We had already gotten it up a lot, but it had gotten stuck on the side of the swamp so we had to readjust its hold to get it the rest of the way up.

The years in the water had diminished it. The old black truck was now more like a rust bucket, remains of the swamp water spilling out from the seams. “All right. A little more…little more,” Sam leads, “All right, stop.”

The engine shuts off and Dean heads to the Impala, he pulls it open rummaging through the various weapons. “Now I know what she sees in you” Sam declares with a snap of his finger, meaning he finally understood what that look in her eyes meant. “What?” Dean asks.

“Come on man, you can admit it. You’re still in love with her” Sam clarifies. I nod even though the implications hurt, “Plus it’s not like no one else knows. So the only person you’re hiding from is yourself.”

Dean looks up from the trunk, “Uhh, can we focus please.”

I purse my lips, “Yeah…focusing has never really been our strong suit…” A container of salt is pressed into my chest, “Hold that” Dean says swiftly.

His expression hardens, all jokes put to rest as he dishes out items, “Gas” he says first, handing the large container to his brother, “Flashlights,” he lists out next filling my empty hand with one.

“Ok, let’s get this done,” he quips, closing the trunk.

We trudge back over to the rusty truck, our flashlights leading our way across the grass. Dean places his hand on the handle and I must wonder how he isn’t grossed out by just the feeling of the flaked paint and rotting metal. He glances at us in a silent ‘you ready?’ We give a nod and he opens the door.

A decaying wet corpse falls out the door and onto the soft grass, a small gush of water following its lead. I leap back like a scared cat, clasping a hand to my mouth and nose the decomposition of the body as well as its marinating in swamp water left a putrid smell. One perhaps worse than anything I've ever smelt before which was saying something considering what I’ve hunted.

“All right let’s get to it,” Dean says. Sam pours the gasoline all over the body, careful not to get it close to us and I jump in with the salt, opening the little latchet to sprinkle the small white crystals over the open-mouthed corpse. The satisfying scratch and flick of a match sounds softly beside me in the quiet night followed by the drop of the matchstick on the body. In mere seconds the remains go up in flames, the warm glow of the fire reflecting on the truck just beside it. I hoped no one would come looking over here with the whirl of smoke twirling above us, the heat powerful enough for me to take another step back.

“Think that’ll do it?” Sam voices, staring down at the burning corpse. But his question is followed by the revving of an engine and two blinding lights pointed at us. Without looking in the direction I knew it was the ghost truck. “I guess not,” Dean quips.

“So burning the body had no effect on that thing?” the younger Winchester asks. “Sure it did. Now it’s really pissed,” Dean responds. I glare at him, “I don't know if this is the time for cool jokes.”

“But Cyrus’ ghost is gone, right Dean?” Sam asks, a hint of panic in his voice as the tuck stares us down. But his brother doesn't answer right away, instead, he starts to walk away, “Apparently not the part that’s fused with the truck.”

I go on my tip toes trying to peak into the truck, maybe we missed something like a severed piece of him that didn’t spill out but before I can vocalize this Sam is calling out to his brother, “Where are you going?” I turn around, catching up to the boys, “Goin’ for a little ride,” Dean answers as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “What?!” Sam and I exclaim in unison, “That’s a horrible idea!” I add. But he ignores our concern, “Gonna lead that thing away. That busted piece of crap, you gotta burn it.”

“How the hell are we supposed to burn a truck, Dean?” Sam asks, voice raising in volume. But being the determined man he is he shrugs, “I don’t know. Figure something out.” He rounds the car, opening the driver's door, “At least let one of us come with you, this is horribly dangerous,” I try to reason.

His eyes move up and down my face, before he settles on my eyes once more, “‘Exactly why you’re not comin’ with.” Before I can come up with a retort on how stubborn he is he settles himself into the car, closing the door behind him. I look to Sam for any support on this but he just stares at the car muttering, “Figure some–something–”

I rack my brain for ideas because Dean wasn’t going to listen and would rather be all hot and stubborn than be reasonable, “An explosion?” I suggest. Sam shakes his head, “No, that wouldn’t work. Parts would go everywhere and everything has to burn.”

I huff, frustrated, “I hate when you’re right.”

Dean reverses the Impala and takes off, the engine revering. As predictable as possible the ghost truck roars after him. I try to rack my brain for more ideas, even if we could suddenly light a truck on fire it would take too long for it to burn completely, “Sam, please tell me you got some idea rolling around in there.” He doesn't answer, lost in concentration with his bottom lip between his teeth.

My phone suddenly rings in my pocket, I pull it out swiftly seeing Dean’s name glowing. I flip it open bringing it to my ear, “You okay?” I say immediately. “Uh…yeah,” He says but I remain not convinced, “what are we doing?”

I look at Sam, panicking slightly, “Um, Sam what are we doing?”

He pulls out his phone, “You gotta give me a minute.” He presses his phone to his ear, “He says to give him a minute, I think he’s callin’ someone.”

“I don’t have a minute!” He half yells. “Dude, I don't know!” I panic, “Just…just don’t die, okay?”

“Trying here sweetheart.” I look back at Sam who has stepped away, I give him a hand motion of ‘please hurry up.’ He nods, coming closer to feed me info, “Ask him where he is.” I pull my phone away from my ear putting him on speaker instead, “Okay, Dean where the hell are you?”

“In the middle of nowhere with a killer truck on my ass!” he exclaims, “It’s like it knows I put the torch to Cyrus.”

“Listen to me, this is important” Sam orders, calmly, “I have to know exactly where you are.” Seemingly taking his advice he goes quiet for a beat, “Decatur Road, about two miles off the highway.”

“Ok. Headed East?” Sam follows up.

“Yes!”

A rattle and a bang followed by skitting noise sounds from the phone followed by cursing, “You son of a bitch!”

“Sam!” I yell, begging him to hurry up. “Ok, uhhh, turn right! Up ahead, turn right.” Again the line falls silent, “You make the turn?” Sam questions softly. My heart beats faster with each silent moment that passes. “Yeah, I made the turn!” Dean yells, “You need to move this thing along a little faster.”

“All right, you see a road up ahead?” Sam asks.

“No!... Wait. No, yes, I see it.”

“Ok turn left.”

“Wha..?” Dean half says before he goes quiet again the only sound coming from the line being more screeching and shuffled movement. “All right, now what? He finally responds.

“You need to go seven-tenths of a mile and then stop,” Sam explains. I looked at him strangely, noticing he wasn’t on the phone anymore, but what the hell was he talking about? “Stop?” Dean voices.

“Exactly seven-tenths Dean” Sam repeats.

“God, I hope you know what you’re talking about,” I tell the man beside me. “Me too” he mumbles over the sound of his brother repeating the words ‘seven-tenths.’ I look at him my mouth agape, “You wha–”

“Dean, you still there?” He cuts me off, focusing on his brother again. “Yeah,” Dean responds.

“What’s happening over there?” I ask, not knowing was killing me. “It’s just staring at me,” he answers carefully, “what do I do?”

“Just what you’re doing, bringing it to you,” Sam replies.

“Wha–” Dean began before cutting himself off, the line going quiet for the umpteenth time, “Come on. Come on,” he mumbled quietly but just loud enough for the phone to pick it up. My heart thumps in my chest, anticipation and fear running through my veins as well as something else from those two stupid words–something had to be wrong with me to find that hot now of all times.

The line is silent, for one beat, then another, then another…I grip my phone tighter, “Dean? Dean, are you there? ‘You okay?”

“Where’d it go?” he responds with a mix of shock and confusion. “Dean, you’re where the church was,” Sam explains. “What church!” he freaks.

“The place Cyrus burned down. Murdered all those kids,” Sam clarifies.

“There’s not a whole lot left,” Dean responds.

“Church ground is hallowed ground, whether the church is still there or not. Evil spirits cross over hallowed ground, and sometimes they’re destroyed, so I figured, maybe, that would get rid of it,” Sam explains. I hit his arm, “That was a hunch?!”

Dean adds in with the lecturing, “Maybe? Maybe!! What if you were wrong?!”

“Huh,” Sam hums, “Honestly, that thought hadn’t occurred to me.”

I glare at him sharply, hitting his arm again as I say, “You’re too sassy for your own good.” He laughs, a boyish grin on his face.

I wait in the back, Sam in the driver seat for Dean to say his goodbyes. I liked the back seat, more now than ever because being in the front would mean being able to see out the side mirror and watch Dean kiss the woman he loves and say a goodbye I was sure he didn’t want.

Life was being really unfair and uncool.

I bury my nose in my new book, it would be better to just escape into this world than have to deal with my feelings here in the real world. My feelings in the real world were not fun, they were depressing and hurt…a lot. But no amount of ink on paper formed into beautifully crafted words could fill the gaping hole in my heart, still, I tried as there was nothing else to do.

What is worse is knowing there will never be a chance for me to be loved by him, at least not in the way I do, because there will always be a place in his heart for her. He’ll think of her all the time, dream about her, and perhaps see her in the breeze. His heart belongs to her, and possibly always has.

I needed to accept that. The sooner I did the quicker the pain would go away. I couldn't go on believing I had a chance I needed to huff the flame out now.

No more hope. No more love. We’re friends, always have been, and always will be. That will have to be enough. I couldn’t love him anymore, not if it meant feeling this much pain. I wouldn’t accept his touches anymore for they gave me more hope than I’d like to admit.

No. I was wrong.

Worse of all is knowing that I can’t just stop loving him. Let it be the Gods' fault or the stars or whatever it is I’m meant to believe in but my heart has long been his and always will be. I could never love someone the way I love him, I wasn’t capable of that. Let it be that our love was written in the star's constellations that it was undecided by me or him for my love had to transcend the binds of that nonsense.

I loved him and he did not love me and maybe it was that which I had to accept because to stop loving him would mean to stop my heart from beating. Though even then I suspect not even the afterlife could keep me from my eternal love. And maybe that was pathetic or stupid, especially since he did not care for me in such a way, but it was the truth and no one has ever claimed truth to be a beautiful thing.

I’m brought back to reality with a bump. When did we leave and start driving? I look out the window, we had already made it to the highway…I look at the boys, but both seem fine. Ok then.

“I like her,” Sam says, and suddenly I wish to be lost back in the state I was in moments ago. I would love not to hear or be a part of this conversation. “Yeah,” Dean replies, seemingly just to get his brother to stop.

“You meet someone like her, doesn’t it make you wonder if it’s worth it? Putting everything else on hold, doing what we do?” Sam asks innocently perhaps trying to get him to understand what he had felt with his girlfriend. But something flickers in his face and suddenly he’s making eye contact with me in the rearview mirror, his eyes written in apology as if it just hit him now what all of this was doing to me. It was that puppy dog look.

I smile sadly at him, giving him a curt nod in a silent ‘it’s okay.’ His gaze flickers back to the road.

Dean leans forward pulling sunglasses from the glove box, he puts them on carefully ignoring his brothers' initial question, “Why don’t you wake me up when it’s my turn to drive?” He slouches down in his seat with a sigh. I shake my head, roll my eyes, and go back to my book.

We were leaving Missouri and all would be well, or as well as they could be.

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elliespeach · 11 months

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tear you apart | ellie williams

˗ˏˋ"if your friends won't watch over you, i will." ´ˎ˗

pairing ellie wiliams x fem reader synopsis ellie owns her own vinyl store and the day you wander in changes both of your lives forever. she quickly becomes infatuated with you, desperate for your love that she believes is meant to be. when things in your life begin to spiral, ellie is there to catch you, but you'd never suspect she was the reason you fell in the first place. heavily heavily based on the book/tv show "you" on netflix wordcount 4k warnings gosh where do i start, stalking both cyber and in person, ellie is obsessive, manipulative, a gaslighter, a pervert lowkey, possessive and easily jealous, she breaks into readers apartment and goes thru your stuff, shes also so delusional like top tier delulu, shes based off joe goldberg so i mean put the pieces together. this is all from her perspective, most if not all of the inner monologue is ellie's thoughts about you, the italics is verbatim what she is thinking in that very moment if that makes sense. like joe, all of her actions are justified in her mind, and she doesn't see anything wrong with them. reader has a dysfunctional family. pls lmk if i am missing something! authors note hi hello hi, i have been so excited to post this!! just wanted to clarify this rn, i am bringing in a LOT of elements from the book and show, especially in this part, if it seems very similar thats why. i don't plan on following the plot line for season one, but i needed a good base to jump off of, dont hate me. n yes, readers best friend is shauna from yellowjackets i couldn't help myself. i needed a girl group, sue me. cat is apart of this girl group, not ellie's ex along w dina, also not ellie's ex in this au lol

fuckin’ trash, ellie thought to herself, looking over the torn up vinyl in her hands. the guy who returned it obviously had no fucking clue how to take care of something. especially something so needing of love. she placed the vinyl down on the counter beside the register before stepping into the back of the store, grabbing her tools of restoration. as she rummaged through a drawer, the familiar bell rang from the front door indicating a new customer, but she ignored it and continued searching for the sandpaper she always left laying around somewhere. the last drawer she opened was the winner, taking her supplies, she emerged from the small room into the front of the store, the beads in the doorway swaying as she walked through them.

thats when her eyes found you, examining the vinyl left on the counter. you hadn’t noticed her yet, too engrossed in the mishandled vinyl. she watched you for a moment as you looked it over, tracing the scratches that lined it. to ellie, you looked to be the definition of a nice girl. sporting a flowy sundress that laid just below your ass. nice girl who likes attention, she thought to herself, looking you up and down from afar.

she played it cool, keeping her eyes on the sandpaper and cloth in her hands as she made her way back to the counter. you finally took notice of her when she stood in front of you. “oh, hi,” you smiled brightly, to which ellie looked up. “whoever handled this vinyl should be in jail.” a sense of humor, ellie smiled at you, letting a breathy laugh fall from her lips. and an appreciation for vinyls, rare.

“a life sentence, for sure.” she spoke, and you laughed. a laugh that was genuine, not forced by politeness.

“can you point me to where i could find a david bowie album, ellie?” you asked sweetly, and she had to remember she wore a name tag. flirting with me and you like david bowie? ellie’s grateful its a tuesday afternoon, the store is dead. giving her more time to talk with you. you, who seemed to never stop smiling at her.

“against the wall,” she pointed. “third box from the left.” she lets you wander over yourself, taking the time to admire the way you carry yourself. you had a pair of red, heart shaped sunglasses resting on your head. ellie could tell you liked to pay attention to details, it was evident in the way you matched your sunglasses to your dress, and she wondered just how many pairs you owned. both short dresses and uniquely designed sunglasses together. her head tilted at the thought, switching her over chewed gum to the other side of her mouth.

you rifled through the box as ellie’s gaze pierced your back, although you were seemingly unaware. david bowie, she thought again. not another stuck up gen z who only listens to who is in the top one hundred, no. no, you were special. ellie put her focus onto the vinyl in front of her, slowly dampening it with the cloth before grinding the sandpaper over the scratches. but she kept you in her peripheral vision and she couldn’t help but notice you were struggling to find a specific one, or at least it looked like it.

“need help?” she asked you, keeping her voice neutral.

your body turned to face her, meeting her eyes and a faux pout on your lips.“i think the only one i want isn’t here, or i’m seriously blind.”

ellie chuckled, coming out from behind the counter, “my money’s on blind, just organized this box a few days ago.”

you huffed lightly, standing to the side while she approached you and the box. “i can’t find the rise and fall of ziggy stardust, it’s one of my favorites.”

of course it is. ellie barely looked in the box before she saw the album, pulling it out and holding it out for you. “i’ll book your eye appointment,” she said with a light grin.

“ugh, my hero,” you gushed, taking the album from her hands gently. i’ll always be your hero, but something tells ellie that you didn’t really need her help to begin with.

“c’mon, i’ll ring you up,” ellie led you back to the register and you placed the vinyl down on the counter lightly.

“promise i won’t do what that guy did,” you joked, reaching into your bag for your wallet.

ellie almost wishes you would. you’d come in a few days later, apologizing for being so clumsy but asking if she could fix it for you. of course, she would say yes. how could she say no to someone like you? “you couldn’t if you tried, pretty sure he did it on purpose.”

“what makes you say that?”

“just a hunch,” ellie shrugs, scanning the barcode on the vinyl.

“maybe his dogs got it, or worse, his kids.” you kept eye contact as you spoke, which shocked ellie. a lot of people would break away, divert conversation, maybe even stay silent all together. but not you.

“if that guy had kids, i’d feel bad for them,” to a lot of people, this comment would rub them the wrong way, and ellie internally cursed herself for saying it. you’re a sweetheart in her eyes, someone who wouldn’t think things like that, but again, you laughed. the transaction was almost over and she was grasping at straws, so she kept going. “guys like him blame everything on everyone else, i wouldn’t be surprised if his kids actually hated him but,”

your head tilted, waiting for more. to ellie, it looked like you were hanging onto every word she said. and she relished in it. “–thats only if someone wanted to have kids with him, which i highly doubt.”

“from what i’m hearing it doesn’t sound like anyone would want to,” you’re trusting my judgment. ellie’s lips curled up with your words, and she bagged the vinyl in a plastic bag. you handed her a credit card, which was decorated with flowers along with your name. and you want me to know your name. you could’ve used cash, the vinyl was less than twenty dollars. but no, ellie knew better and she knew you better. your eyes found the scratched up vinyl yet again, “but you can fix it?”

ellie swiped the card against her own wishes. she’d give you the whole store if you asked with that pretty smile. “it’ll be back in the box within the hour, why? you like pink floyd?”

“yeah, for the most part. i haven’t listened to that album yet,”

“i can put it on hold for you.” ellie rushes out, and she feels like she came on too strong. you could easily listen to it on spotify but she reminds herself that you’re in her store for a reason. you probably own a vinyl player, an older model you got off of facebook marketplace because the newer ones don’t match your personality. maybe a pioneer or a yamaha, and now shes thinking about how you probably dance around your room listening to music. your response breaks her from her imagination.

“that’d be great, thanks ellie,” but she can see it so perfectly in her mind, you’d wear a big t-shirt and a dainty pair of underwear. twirling and spinning about, the t-shirt riding up as you did and as you stood in front of her in that short dress her mind seemed to unravel and she had to clear her throat.

“anytime–” she tacked your name at the end of her words with a smile, handing back your card which you very quickly put in your wallet. her eyes glanced down for a split second, admiring how the dress pushed your tits together before bringing them back up to your face.

“aren’t you going to tell me to have a good day?” you teased much to ellie’s enjoyment, reaching out for the bag she was holding for you.

“have a good day,” your fingers grazed hers, and ellie knew it had to be on purpose. a flirt, and a good one at that.

“you too, ellie. i’ll be back for that album.”

you left the store as quickly as you came, taking your sweet vanilla scent with you. ellie thought about your interaction all day, it consumed her walk home and when she entered her small apartment she fell to her couch and opened her laptop.

plugging your name into any and all social medias was easy, who could forget a name like yours? all your accounts were public, and very quickly ellie could tell just what kind of person you were. the sweet girl who loved vinyls who had an addiction to posting online. your twitter was filled with random, obscure thoughts and always with a hashtag at the end of them. from time to time you’d tweet about where you were, and ellie tsk’d out loud to herself. anyone could find you within seconds, you need to be more careful. you seemed to tweet about everything in your life and ellie refreshed the page, wishing to see a post about the cute girl in the vinyl shop who helped you find your favorite album.

yet, there was nothing. and for a moment it hurt her, but the more she thought about it, it was better you didn’t post about her. that means it was real for you, hope remains.

facebook provided the basics of your family, although the account was inactive. but your parents who divorced a few years back seemed to only post about your younger siblings, leaving her to wonder if they didn’t approve of your lifestyle in the city. she stalked their pages like it was her job and at this point it felt like it was. she discovered that your two younger siblings went off to college out west and your parents even sold their home to be closer to them while still living separate lives. ellie felt pity for you, how could they just leave you behind?

your instagram feed was an aesthetic one, pictures posted solely to appease your followers. a pretty sunset here, a mirror selfie there, a quick post about the food from the restaurant just down the road from ellie’s shop. there were also posts about your own art, colorful and detailed, just like yourself. a painting you did was the last thing you posted, but this one wasn’t like your other ones, it was black and white and had a lonely floating balloon in the center and the borders were lined with overlapping words. ellie could make out only a few of them, ‘melancholy’, ‘nobody’, and ‘distress’.

there were lots of group pictures of you with friends. ellie could see you looked more authentic than them, who all seemed to resemble something out of a factory for young adults. you were a pearl in a sea of clams.

out of curiosity, ellie brought herself to your friend’s pages as well. she needed to see the types of people you spent time with, seeing if they were someone she would approve of for you. one friend made an appearance more than others and she assumed that was your so-called best friend, a spunky city girl named shauna. her own instagram was like an influencer’s guide to posting online, and she seemed like someone ellie would avoid at all costs. shauna’s posts of you always had you in the background, or if you were directly in the frame it was a candid where shauna looked better. she's making herself look better at your own expense, can't you see that?

your other friend’s social media were bland and unhelpful. ellie brought herself back to the task at hand. she typed your name into google and watched the loading screen. your name brought up a string of links all connecting back to your art pieces you’ve submitted to local papers and art galleries. an artist in new york city, aren’t you ambitious. maybe your parents didn’t like the instability of being an artist. but yet, you still pursue your passion. its admirable.

what also popped up was a white pages link, with a few clicks, and a small charge to her credit card she found exactly what she was looking for. there wasn’t much she could do with your phone number, texting you would be creepy. there was no way for her to explain how she got it, so the next best thing was your address. which, lucky for ellie, was only six blocks from her own.

if she could find it this easily, she needed to make sure that no one else did. which is how she found herself standing across the street from your apartment, peering into the windows that had no blinds, no curtains, no protection from the outside world. you were on full display for all of new york. first thing were doing together is buying you blinds. you were lounging around on your coach, scrolling through your phone and periodically shifting in your spot to get more comfortable.

it was dark now, and again, luckily for ellie, someone standing on the sidewalk of new york wasn’t a weird thing to do and no one paid her any mind. for days she would stand in the same spot, studying your movements throughout your apartment. sometimes you would go to bed on the early side, but most nights you were fully awake, sipping something out of a purple mug which she could only assume was coffee, and drawing lines on a canvas.

everytime you would take a break and scroll through your phone, ellie would refresh every social media, waiting for a post. your fingers danced on the keyboard and after a few refreshes on ellie’s end, your twitter had a new post.

@yndoesartstuff: if anyone has tips on how not to procrastinate finishing a wip, please enlighten me

if you just put down your phone, i’m sure you could get it done.

one night she watched as you dipped your wet brush into the purple mug instead of the designated paint water cup. they didn’t even look similar, but ellie laughed to herself while you groaned, tossing your head back before getting up to dump the liquid out of the mug. this would also be the first night ellie gawked at you while your hands dipped below your shorts, she quickly looked around. no one else seemed to notice that you were pleasing yourself with your own gentle hands and her eyes found you again, sprawled out on your couch.

your back arched, obviously hitting your sweet spot and ellie swallowed hard. blinds. were getting you blinds.

some days, ellie was too busy with the store to watch over you and she hated herself for it. too tired to walk the six blocks and instead just looking over your social media again, looking through your friends posts to see if you’ve been up to anything. you had never come back for the album, which ellie had finished nearly two weeks ago now. but tonight, as she locked up the store she knew she was going straight to the sidewalk adjacent from your apartment.

when she arrived at her usual spot she saw you through the windows and you looked too well put together for a night to yourself. you were dolled up and ellie liked to imagine it was for her, you’d leave your apartment and head to the store for the album you said you’d come back for weeks ago. but her hope was squashed when a cab pulled up outside your apartment and a woman who looked way too old started to walk up the steps to the building and entered the main door. ellie had been here enough to know the general look of your building's inhabitants, and this woman wasn’t one of them. maybe someone's mom, maybe she's visiting a friend. she can’t be here for you. no way.

but through the windows, with no blinds, she saw you open your door for this woman and welcome her into your home. your mom. it has to be. ellie’s eyebrows narrowed when you pulled this woman into a hug, then pulled back and let your lips kiss hers. okay, so not your mom. who the fuck is this?

ellie, whose eyes were going from her phone to the big windows of your apartment, began to search through your online presence and found no traces of her. this mysterious woman who, now, you seemed to be having a highschool make out session with on your couch, was all over you, touching you, kissing you, and worst of all, pleasing you. that sweet smile that had previously been for ellie, was now for this woman and it made ellie’s stomach turn. but she didn’t leave, instead watched while the two of you began to peel each other's clothes off.

were getting you blinds and were getting rid of this woman.

the next day while she opened up her store, she couldn’t help but think about you and this woman. she was frustrated, of course. but she couldn’t blame you, obviously this woman was prying on your weaknesses for her own pleasure. taking advantage of you. it sickened her, and she had to know more. she had been through every following list she could think of and still, this woman was a mystery. and as she refreshed your twitter (a new hobby of hers), a new post popped up.

@yndoesartstuff: lunch date with @shaunamavisxx never felt so right – at hoppers tavern

seeing that, ellie locked up shop way too early. it was fairly easy to make her way into your apartment, all she had to do was play the part. “sorry, my girlfriend hasn’t given me a key to this door yet,” she said with a friendly smile to your neighbor, who out of the kindness of his heart let her into the building. she waited until he was in his own apartment before picking your lock.

it smelled like you once she stepped inside, and she let the aroma fill her nose as she walked around. it was messy, canvases piled up everywhere along with dirty paint brushes. clothes lined your floor from the bedroom all the way to the kitchen and she had to force herself not to clean it up for you. she examined your paintings up close, admiring how the strokes on the canvas looked. she noticed you draw a small bird in every corner, the bird is plump, uncolored and holding a small twig. it was your signature, and it matched you so well. but, what she really was after was your laptop, she found it sitting on your unmade bed.

no password? she was shocked, and made a mental note to tell you that you needed to secure your devices. it’s almost as if you wanted her to search through it to get to know you better, and ellie did just that. it was linked to your phone and as she went through your messages they all seemed to be relatively normal. for someone like you, at least.

loads of messages from a group chat labeled city gals, and she knew it wasn’t you who had named it being as you were funnier than that, and less basic. scrolling up, all the conversation in the chat was merely nothing of note, no mention of this woman to your friends which ellie found odd. maybe just a hookup? but even then, wouldn’t you tell your friends?

ellie could gauge your friends' personalities through the texts they would send, shauna was most definitely the unnamed leader of this group, probably also the one who named the chat. her texts were mostly about planning activities, meanwhile the others just tacked on with fake enthusiastic responses. even yourself.

leaving the group chat, she continued to scroll down your messages and found an unsaved phone number which seemed to be the winner. you don’t have her number saved, this is good. a lot of your texts to her went unanswered, left on seen and only responded once you’d ask for her to come over. that usually generated a reply within minutes from this woman, who ellie still didn’t know the name of. it angered her even further, realizing she was just toying you along. only using you for your body when you were so much more than that.

ellie jotted down the unsaved number into her notes app, saving it for later when she could find out just exactly who this woman was. it was clear from the texts that she wanted nothing to do with you, and you still kept texting her like a sad puppy. it was pathetic, really, but ellie didn’t judge. she knew that your attention seeking habits were brought on by your dysfunctional family, she just wished it was her on the receiving end.

she found herself in your emails and saw you had an abundant amount of unread ones. it was a lot of spam and a waste of time, so she moved on. she decided it was best to go into your search history, restaurants, art galleries that allowed online submissions, sometimes even silly questions that ellie would most definitely answer for you if you asked.

“how do magicians do their cutting in half tricks?” you would ask her from the couch while ellie made you both dinner.

she’d call out from the stove, “there’s a fake table, the girl puts her legs through that. the legs you see on the other end are fake, baby.” and you would giggle sweetly as you always did, thanking her for being a know-it-all.

but as she continued to scroll further and further down your search history, she saw that the day you two had met, you googled “vinyl stores near me” and ellie’s was the first to pop up. she thanked every star in the universe for such a coincidence, but the more she thought about it, it couldn’t have been a coincidence because to her, it was always meant to be.

suddenly your laptop dinged and a new message appeared at the top from city gals. it was shauna and she was proposing a night out and it didn’t take long at all for the rest of the chat to respond.

shauna: drinks at our favorite spot tonight?

dina: totally what time

shauna: like 8 ish?

cat: sounds good to me

shauna: im with our heavy drinker, she says yes too!! see u guys then

dina: hangin w out us :( rude

cat: yeah wtf

shauna: oh hush its no biggie, we’ll see you guys tonight

ellie sat back as the texts rolled in, heavy drinker? ellie didn’t like the sound of it, and your friends seemed to think it was funny. bet they don’t even watch over you when you’re plastered, leaving you alone where anyone could hurt you. a few clicks on your instagram and she found a group mirror picture in a dirty bar bathroom, and the location clear as day at the top of the post. she confirmed it with a few other pictures and a deep dive of your twitter. gotta stop putting your location everywhere.

ellie knew your lunch date with shauna would be ending soon and you’d return home to start getting ready for the evening. she shut your laptop down, placing it exactly where it was on the bed before and started towards the door to leave. as she was on her way out, a bright red thong caught her eye. it was so carelessly thrown between the couch and the table next to it and she stuffed them into her pocket before locking the door behind her on the way out. she knew you’d never notice, your apartment already looked like a tornado had been through it seven times over.

she played with the string of fabric in her pocket as she walked down the sidewalk back to her place, contemplating the night to come. if your friends won't watch over you, i will.

read part two here :)

#ellie williams #ellie williams fanfic #ellie williams the last of us #ellie williams au #modern!ellie williams #ellie williams x you #ellie williams x reader

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thebestofoneshots · 5 months

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Gilded Constellations | (wolfstar x reader)

Series Masterlist | Previous episode

Pairing: Wolfstar x Reader Word Count: 7.3 K Warnings: Graphic descriptions of violence. (Reader discretion is advised). Prompt: It's the night of the prank This IS a wolfstar x reader fic, but it's incredibly slow burn. They won't start all dating each other until we're very deep into the story, but I promise the long wait will be worth it.

Chapter 28: If You Want BIood (You’ve Got It)

You were walking through the dark halls, wand raised with a lumus charm so you could see better. You already knew the path you had to follow, it was almost exactly the same one that you used to get to the fireworms but a little further and then 3 lefts and 2 rights.

You wouldn’t say you’d pride yourself on your sense of direction, you had gotten lost in the castle more than once, but you had been in the passageways so often, and you had explored them and gotten lost in them just as many times. You had already taken three lefts and were about to take a right when Sirius appeared in front of you.

“Oh hey–“ You started, but were cut off by the way he scooped you into his arms, hugging you tightly, he leaned his head on the crook of your neck.

“Missed you,” he whispered into your hair.

You frowned, what’s gotten into him? “I saw you in the morning.”

“But you sat far away,” he whined. You frowned but finally hugged him back. It’s not that you didn’t like when Sirius was clingy, in fact, you loved it. But most of the time he got clingy it was because something was up.

Could it be because of your wound? But he had known about it for a week, and he hadn’t been this clingy earlier. In fact, he’d been a lot more concerned and serious about it. Yeah worried, and definitely a little touchy when you fell asleep on his bed, but not clingy. You noticed he was still nozzled in your neck after a couple of minutes, and felt how he took a deep breath “Are you smelling me?” you asked in disbelief, a teasing smile slowly creeping up your mouth.

He pulled away, a sly little smile on his lip. Am I really the one that’s a fox? You wondered as his smile widened to a grin, “Got a problem with it trésor?”

You almost rolled your eyes, you had let it slip that you liked it when he spoke French to you and he was making a conscious effort to fluster you about it whenever he had the chance. “Non, mon coquin,” you replied with a little smirk.

He gasped “Take that back!”

“Is it not accurate?” you teased again.

“Oi! I swear if you–“

“Everything all right?” You heard Remus’ conciliating voice from behind.

“She called me coquin!” Sirius complained with a pout. Looking an awful lot like a small child.

He looks adorable, both you and Remus thought.

“So?” Remus asked, he did not speak much French.

You giggled and placed your hand on his shoulder, he leaned towards you “It means rascal, naughty or… mischief.”

Remus nodded and turned back to Sirius. “I’d say it’s accurate,” he said with a shrug.

You covered your mouth with your hands and attempted to hold back a laugh. “Moony!” Sirius complained, “don’t back her up! I was trying to be cute-“

You shook your head, “–he was trying to fluster me.”

Remus wasn’t sure what he was doing in the middle of such a silly discussion, but since both you and Sirius looked absolutely adorable, he wasn’t sure he cared too much “How come?”

“I called her trésor.” Remus looked at him expectantly. “It means treasure,” Sirius clarified.

Well, that one’s accurate as well, he thought before he spoke again “Well you’re both mo chailleachan àlainn.” He placed both arms over your and Sirius’ shoulders and prompted you to continue your way.

“Hold up! You’re back at it with the Gaelic?”

“That was Gaelic?” Sirius asked, “No wonder I understood shit.”

Remus shrugged and then with a cheeky little smile responded “You understood it perfectly then.”

Sirius gasped again, turning to Remus just a little, “You wouldn’t dare!”

“Wouldn’t I?” He asked again, pulling Sirius’ shoulder so he would turn back to the front. You just laughed.

“Yeah chachan àlain,” you mocked. Remus laughed at your miserable attempt to speak Gaelic.

“If I’m a chaillchan àlainn so are you!” Sirius argued. “He said it to the both of us.”

Remus sniggered “Indeed, you’re both my chailleachan àlainn,” the way the words rolled off his tongue made it sound as sexy as Sirius’ french.

You elbowed him, and he played hurt. But his fun lasted until the three of you fell into a comfortable silence and his mind started to wonder. Reprimanding himself for calling you what he had, had either of them actually understood, he thought. Of course, Remus knew neither spoke Gaelic, but sometimes words were similar and both you and Sirius spoke like 5 different languages in between each other. He had been stupid.

And more stupid than that, he was just casually hugging the two of you as you walked, not that either seemed to mind. Sirius had a bit of a frown but that was because he thought he’d been called a “shit”, you on the other hand, had a diverted look on your face as you leaned slightly into Remus’ shoulder, clearly pleased over the fact that he had sided with you. But he felt too content, too joyful, it felt –even if it was just for a second– like he could have the two of you, and that you’d be happy to have him as well.

He felt like it was the Halloween Party all over again and you both had your hands all over him, no restrictions attached, the three of you high to the heavens with that euphoric potion. Yes, it was delightful, but at the same time, it was torment. Torment because he knew he couldn’t just give in to his delusional fantasies, torment because he knew there was a limit to how close he could be to the two of you before either noticed, torment because his mind kept telling him to get away. Still, his body refused, refused to let go, refused to stop feeling your warmth. And he had been the one to place himself in that situation this time around. Perhaps, it was he who was the cailleachan in the end.

Either way, he didn’t step away, he knew it would be more suspicious if he did, so he kept his arms around yours and Sirius’ shoulders, careful not to touch the section he had scratched.

“Took you long enough,” the three of you heard Prongs’ voice once you arrived at the meeting point.

“They were having a domestic fight.”

You gasped at that, “It was a small quarrel.”

“No, it wasn’t! You called me a–“

“But you are a…“

“–Guys?” you heard Peter’s voice rise a little as he tried to gather everyone’s attention, interrupting the two of you “Can we discuss your quarrels later on? We don’t have all night.”

“It wasn’t a quarrel,” Sirius muttered to himself. Remus had already stepped away from the two as he went to talk to James and you closed the gap between you and your boyfriend, extending your hand to chase his.

“Hey mischief?” you said, trying to get his attention. He gave you a side look. You leaned your head on his shoulder. “You did hear what I said, right?” He turned his head to you, eyebrows raised like, telling you with his face that he most definitely had, “Yeah, but did you really listen?”

“Yes, it was very clear when you called me coquin.”

You shook your head and leaned into him, to be able to whisper in his ear “I called you mon coquin.”

He turned to you with agape, a silent scoff rolling off his pretty lips. “Oh, so now you’re claiming ownership over me,” he teased, a smile plastered on his face.

“Well, if the shoe fits…” you replied, mirroring his smile.

He pulled you closer to him, brushing his lips against your earlobe before he spoke “Est-ce que ça fait de toi mon trésor?”

Your mouth went dry and you shivered, bIood rushing through your cheeks so fast you weren’t sure you’d be able to play it cool afterwards. Regardless you tried, leaning in closer to his own ear and actually biting his earlobe before speaking again. “Je peux être tout ce que tu veux que je sois…”

“Love puppies, time to focus, please,” James said when he noticed the way Sirius’ eyes had shone. He may or may not have been afraid of what the two of you would have done if he hadn’t stopped you.

You turned to James with a smile and nodded. Remus had averted his gaze, your back was to him, so you didn’t notice, but Sirius did, and he almost felt a pang in his chest when he realised Remus’ slightly bitter reaction. Well, he had felt the pang, but he pretended like he hadn’t. It made no sense for it to be there. You were his girlfriend and Remus was just Remus. Same Remus he’d always been, except that he wasn’t making him feel the same way he always had. His hand settled on your back as the two of you walked closer to Peter, who had the map in a hold.

“So, I’ll get in first and eavesdrop on the password. That way we know what it is. Then the four of you will get in through the door with the cloak on.”

“We won’t fit,” Remus said, remembering how close he had stood to Sirius in the library the previous night.

“Yeah, we thought about that yesterday while you were making the potions,” James spoke and then turned to you “You’re gonna have to turn into Vixen and let us carry you.”

You looked at James for a second, blinking as you processed the information, and then shrugged. “Okay, just be careful when you pick me up.”

James nodded in response, and Peter continued speaking. “Great, once we’re in, we’ll just sneak into their dorms and we’ll help you and Remus with the hex bags.”

“We’re not going to get anyone that’s not on the list,” you said as you looked at them, it was something between a question and a statement. You just wanted them to confirm it. Everyone nodded, except for Sirius, who looked a bit vexed. You threw him a look. “I have friends in Slytherin, you have friends in Slytherin. We can’t punish them all just because of a few assholes are in the same house.”

“They’ve been messing with you since you got here, Starshine.”

“Yes!” you agreed. “A small little group of them have. Not every single one.”

He looked to the side but eventually nodded , “Fine then. Just them.”

“Such a good boy,” Peter teased, in the same tone you’d use for a dog and Sirius almost hexed him. Which just had you all laugh.

“Everyone’s against me tonight,” he complained.

“I’m not,” James said as he placed an arm over Sirius, you gave Remus a diverted little smile, and he returned it with a bit of a shrug. “You’re our best boy after all,” James said, using the same tone Peter had used earlier, and making the rest of you laugh.

Sirius looked at James shocked, like he had been betrayed by his friend. He then removed James’ arm from his shoulders and lagged behind until he was beside you, you leaned towards him a little. “It’s all right Puppy, I’ll make it up to you later.”

He gave you a coquettish little smirk, “You promise?”

You almost rolled your eyes at his lightning-fast change of behaviour, he had never even been actually upset, but decided to humour him instead “Oui, mon amour.”

“I understood that!” James said teasingly.

You just chuckled, “As if it were a secret.”

Sirius’s smile widened. Yes, that was right, he was your love.

Once you reached the end of the passage, just a few metres away from the entrance to the Slytherin Common Room Peter shrunk into Wormtail and disappeared through the door. You looked at him go, still fascinated by how the animgus transformation was so seamless. Yes, you were one yourself, but it’s not like you’d ever seen yourself transform. It had never even occurred to you that the process would be so interesting.

And you were also thinking of how different it was to Remus’ transformation. His was painful, at least you assumed that it was since it had seemed pretty bad when he transformed back in the shack. You still remembered the way he’d yelped and bawled as his skin ripped and gave away to the wolf. The memory caused a shiver to run down your spine.

“You cold?” you heard Remus whisper after he leaned towards you. You all had to be a lot more quiet now that you were close to the Slytherin common room. But the three of you had sat down in the hallway. You were on one side, with Sirius and Remus on each of your side, and James was in front of the three of you, Sirius had been leaning towards the front to be able to talk to him.

“Me?” you asked as you turned to Rem. “No, no. It was more of a… It was just… nervousness,” you lied in the end.

“You’re nervous?” he asked with a bit of a frown, emphasising the “you” as if he didn’t believe it was possible.

“Well, I’ve never sneaked into someone else's dorms to cause havoc,” you argued, digging yourself deeper into your lie. “It’s only natural that I would-“

He shook his head, “That’s not it. I know you, Miss Let’s Add The 100-year-old Veom Instead.”

Sometimes it was annoying how well Remus could read you. You sighed, “well, I’m not nervous, but I’m not cold either. Let’s leave it at that?” He tilted his head to the side as if analysing the situation before nodding, you pulled your feet towards your chest and rested your head over your knees. “You think he’ll take much longer?”

“He has to wait for most of them to be asleep. We can’t risk the door opening up and having no one get in.”

“We should have just gotten Slytherin ties and walked inside like we were part of them…” you huffed.

Remus chuckled “As if the entire school didn’t already know the faces and names of three of the Gryffindor Quidditch Players.”

“Polyjuice potion?”

“And you just have that one around?”

“Well, we made a pretty good one with Slughorn at the beginning of the year...”

“Maybe we should have kept some of it in a vase before handing it over.”

“I did,” you said casually.

Remus looked eyebrows shot upwards as he looked at you, trying to decide if you were joking or not, “You did?!?”

You nodded, “it’s safe and sound on my trunk, in case we ever need it.”

Remus had opened his mouth to speak again when you saw Wormtail returning through the small hole in the wall. He quickly turned, he was still crouching when he turned back, his teeth slowly shrinking to their normal size, which was already a little big for his face.

“It’s emerald enigma,” he whispered, loud enough for the four of you to listen.

You raised your eyebrow, “emerald enigma? really?!?”

“Slytherins aren’t ever particularly clever with their passwords,” James said.

“Once upon a time it was clever schemes,” Sirius said as he turned to you.

You looked at him even more shocked and Remus nodded beside the two of you.

“Time to go then,” James said. Peter was a rat in seconds, and then it was your turn. Just seconds afterwards, you had already turned into your own animagus form and walked towards Sirius’ lap. It’s not that you were certain he’d be the one carrying you, but it made sense.

“Hey Kit,” he said softly as he allowed you to climb over one of his legs and then wrapped his hand under your belly, picking you up as he stood, and then placing his other arm underneath so you felt more secure. You leaned your head on his chest and paid attention to the reaction of the boys. Remus was wrapping the cloak around James and Sirius, while James had leaned closer to you and was staring at you from the side.

James had never seen a fox up close, well he had seen you back at the full moon but it wasn’t the same thing. He seemed genuinely interested, but when he extended his hand to touch you, Sirius pulled back protectively, accidentally crashing into Remus. “Oi!” James complained as he stared.

“She’s still hurt,” Sirius said defensively.

“But she likes to be rubbed behind the ear,” offered Remus.

Sirius nodded, the fact that Remus knew, or how he knew, didn’t even cross his mind. James looked directly at you “May I?”

You didn’t hiss, or emit any other protest sound, so he leaned his hand again, staring at Sirius for permission. Your boyfriend nodded, a little apprehensive still and James pressed his hand onto your head. He was soft, like he was with cats, but then he scratched you the same way Padfoot liked being scratched and all of your hair stood on end.

Involuntarily you turned your head towards him and opened your mouth to bite, your snout was already around his wrist when you realised what you were doing and pulled back, being helped by Sirius who also pulled you back. You looked at James and he had an apologetic look in his face, you too looked like you were sorry for trying to bite him.

“Sorry,” the boy whispered, you nodded and that was that. James did not try to pet you again, at least not for a while, he’d seen how sharp your teeth were.

Remus finished arranging the cloak around the three of them Sirius and you had ended up in the middle, James and Remus on each side, they were all standing pretty close to each other as the three walked outside of the hideout and towards the dungeons. You saw the potions classroom, the boys passed by it as you stared around carefully, as a fox your senses were a lot better than theirs, except perhaps for Remus’ so you kept a close eye on the boy in case either you or him, heard something that would require you to warn them about something.

Eventually, you reached the bare wall that would lead you to the Slytherin Dorms, you felt excitement piling up in the form of a knot in your stomach. You’d wanted to see their dorm for a while now. You had already seen the Ravenclaw and yours, obviously, and for some reason, the goal to sneak into all the different common rooms prowled into your head.

“Emerald Enigma,” James whispered towards the door and slowly the bricks from the wall started moving and opening into a relatively long passageway. The four of you stared ahead, paying close attention to the way the bricks moved and stepped forward as soon as they could comfortably fit through the door. The passageway opened into a rather long room, the ceiling was clearly very high above you, making the place feel almost nothing like the dungeons. In fact, you’d go as far as to say that it felt more like a palace since it was rather regal. The windows were looking straight to the black lake, with a few water creatures passing swiftly through them every now and then, it looked rather peaceful, which you wouldn’t have ever imagined the dungeons to be.

The boys, who had to actually pay attention to where they were going, and who clearly had been there before, weren’t as awed as you were, in fact, they looked a lot more on edge, as they were checking all around the common room to make sure it was empty. Still, Remus and James continued to hold the cloak tightly, to make sure it wouldn’t fall, tumble or get caught into something.

Once they were sure it was mostly empty, Remus removed the cloak from atop of you, and Sirius laid you gently on the ground. You turned back in a matter of seconds. “The boy’s dorms are to the left,” Sirius informed. “Barty’s number 15, he’s with Regulus.”

“Evan, Snape and Mulciber are on the 24th,” you said. Sirius turned to you with a frown, as if asking how you knew, you shrugged, “I got it from Minho.”

Sirius’ frown deepened “You asked him?”

“Of course I didn’t straight up ask him, It’d be too suspicious, although I’m sure Minho wouldn’t rat us out.” On purpose, you thought, after all, he had been the reason you concluded Remus was probably bi, or maybe pan.

“So how?”

“A magician never reveals her secrets,” you said with a sly smile. It really hadn’t been a particularly smart conversation that you’d had. You just mentioned that Mary was telling you about the power of numbers and that she thought our room numbers had significance. It was partially true, at least she did talk to you about the power of numbers, after divination a couple of weeks ago. You then told Minho your room number and the boys and he started sharing all of the Slytherin ones you knew.

He hummed in response, “Fine then, we split.”

“That’s the worst idea ever.”

“No, it’d be faster,” James added.

“You’ve never seen a horror movie, have you?”

Remus smiled, he understood exactly what you were referring to, and then leaned a little closer to you. “Don’t worry, you’re already hanging out with the most dangerous monster in the castle,” he joked.

You turned to him, almost a little surprised by his statement, “Who knows, maybe there are vampires hidden somewhere, or acromantulas, or basilisks, or magical armours that want to cut you in half.”

“You need to tone it down with the fantasy books Vixen,” James said with a teasing smile, “you and Sirius go to Barty’s. We’ll go to Snivellus', Peter, look out. Deal?”

You huffed, but nodded, “Keep the cloak,” you said before casting a disillusionment over yourself and Sirius. Remus, who had heard from Sirius how good your charm was, was still somewhat shocked by it. It really was almost as good as James' invisibility cloak, unless he paid really, really close attention.

“Damn she’s–“

“Really fucking good, I know!” Sirius finished. You handed a small bag to Remus, who took it as it slowly became visible.

“I’ve kept what I’ll need, use the rest,” you told him, and finally split ways. You and Sirius moved to Barty’s room.

“Alohomora,” he whispered, along with a silencing charm so the door wouldn’t creak. Four boys were soundly sleeping on each of their beds. The first one you spotted was someone you instantly recognized and you gasped, covering your mouth when you realised you had been a bit too loud.

Sirius threw you a look and walked closer, “It’s Nox,” you whispered, the muffliato you had used earlier helping you be as stealthy as possible, “from the reading club, didn’t know he was Barty’s roommate. He hangs out with Neil and Todd most of the time.”

It’s not like Srius didn’t know you had friends other than your friend group, but it was sometimes weird that you knew people in the castle he barely even recognized. “Want me to add a ward around him?”

You thought about it for a second, and nodded “We really should,” you said “I don’t want the prank to affect him…”

“What about the rest?”

You turned around, there was a silver-blond haired boy who you didn’t actually recognize, Sirius leaned closer to you and pointed at the boy, “Solacis Gaunt, he’s close to Reg and Barty,” he said as he pointed.

“Gaunt as in…?” You turned to him, in disbelief.

“Yeah…”

You bit your lip, even if this Solacis was friends with Barty and his group, he hadn’t been there that night, and you had no idea how he would have reacted, and regarding his last name, well you refused to believe that was any sign of people’s character. After all, you being who you were and Sirius being who he was, had never actually altered your actual selves… What’s in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet, you remembered. “We’ll ward him too.”

“And Regulus?” he asked, you could see the apprehension in his voice. You turned to the boy, last time you saw him he had tried to approach you in a friendly manner and you’d blown him off. Being asleep he looked so unguarded, so little preoccupied as his chest rose up and down, you almost felt bad for the way you had treated him. But then you remembered what he had done and the anger boiled back up to your chest. He had knowingly betrayed you and Sirius, all those lost years…

You had two hex bags, you could easily slip one under his pillow as well, have him suffer the fright of his life, bring him down to desperate cries, overpowered, helpless. But Regulus had stayed on the sidelines, he had tried to stay out of your way since that time at the race when you basically told him to piss off. It was like he had been trying to make you less uncomfortable, even if it pained him, not that you knew. But you did notice that you saw him around a lot less, he avoided you, and even if he did stare at you and Sirius from the sidelines, he never even dared to accidentally cross paths. That you had noticed.

And laying there, his head resting on his pillow, his hair pulled back revealing his delicate features, he looked every bit a Black, every bit like his brother. You took a deep breath, it was in his graceful nose, in his long dark lashes, in his thin, pinky lips. All of those features that drew you to Sirius, the things that made your boyfriend as beguiling as a Siren’s call. They really are brothers, you thought. And how? How would you be able to hurt him? What he did had been years ago, and he had been a kid too, pressured by his parents. It’s not that you wanted to be friends again, but you didn’t want to cause him sorrow either. “He’ll too be warded off.”

Sirius frowned, “But after what…”

You turned to him, your dark expression clearly telling him you knew exactly what he had done, even if he could barely see it due to your spell. “He was not there that night. He didn’t do this to me,” you said, pointing to your wound, “this isn’t about some old grudge we have against him, this about Monday. This about what happened that night and the people that allowed this bastard to do it,” you said, giving Crouch a short glance “And Sirius, he is your brother.”

He swallowed, “He’s a Black.” Every bit a Black, you recalled your earlier thought. You also wondered how such a messed up gene pool could make such beautiful children.

“You are one too,” you whispered as you walked closer, “and I still, I lo- like you very much. Every bit of you,” you added in the end and pressed a few kisses to his face for good measure, perhaps he would have missed the slip of your tongue. Not that you didn’t mean it, but you wouldn’t expect Sirius to comprehend it, you’d barely been dating for a few months. “You’re still my Puppy, no matter what last name you have.”

Sirius gave you one long look and smiled when you kissed his nose, placing both hands around your face to bring your lips to his, he had heard the slip of your tongue, and it only made him want to kiss you even more. When you finally separated for air, he was the first one to speak. “I’m gonna have to kiss you again if you keep it up with the sappy stuff,” he joked.

You raised your eyebrows at that and then placed your finger over his lips, “You have a terrible habit of kissing me in the middle of stealth missions.”

“What do you mean I have the– You’re literally the one that starts it!” he added with an accusing finger.

“Yeah but you always kiss back,” you shrugged.

He gave you a diverted look as he bit his lip, and leaned in again, you leaned in as well, but he stopped right before your lips crashed against each other and smirked, “yeah, I’m not the only one who’s eager to kiss back.” You pushed his chest playfully as you narrowed your eyes at him, and then you heard Nox stir on his bed. The two of you leaned down and gave each other a look.

Both realising how stupid you had been by flirting –and making out– in the middle of the room where you were supposed to place the hex bags. You gave each other a look and almost chuckled. If Remus had been here, we would have stopped us, you thought, he’s the most reasonable of this bunch. And perhaps Remus would have, but only because he wasn’t able to join you.

When Nox finally stopped, you took a deep breath and both stood again. “Warding, I’ll place this.”

Sirius nodded and the two of you started with your tasks. You walked to Barty’s bed and smirked when you realised how easy this would be. You took a deep breath and leaned over the boy. Asleep, he didn’t look as wicked as he did on a daily basis. There was no sneer on his face and he almost looked peaceful. Not for long, you thought as you bit your lip to stop yourself from chuckling. You took a deep breath and raised his pillow slightly, placing the hex bag in its place. Then you looked at the leftover bag and decided to place it under his pillow as well. You shrugged, the more the merrier.

He instantly stirred on the bed, a small frown appearing on his face as his breath quickened. Let's see how you liked being scared, you thought and turned to Sirius. He was just finishing with his castings. He gave you a questioning look and you nodded, the two of you slid out of the bedroom as soon as possible. As you got out you spotted James and Remus just below the stairs, giving you questioning looks.

“What the hell took you so long?” James asked, “I thought there was only Barty there.”

“We had a bit of a pitfall, but we did it.” Sirius responded.

Yeah, making out is definitely a pitfall, you thought.

“We’re ready to go then?” Peter asked, he looked rather nervous.

Remus nodded, “We just have to make sure Jackdaw does his…”

At that moment, from all the different walls, ghosts started sliding in, you smiled, Richie had actually convinced them. He approached your group with a smile, “You owe them some rotten meat,” he informed.

“Rotten meat, that’s all it took? Should’ve told me sooner, I’ll take you all the rotten food you want,” you replied. He gave you a wink and flew towards the rest of the ghosts. Sirius frowned at the flirty wink from Jackdaw but didn’t say a thing.

“Job’s done kiddos,” James said, and Remus pulled the cloak out. All of you stifled inside and walked together until you were away from prying eyes. You all knew it wouldn’t be a good idea to turn into your animagus in front of the ghosts. The muggle saying “silent as the dеad” couldn’t be further from the truth.

Once you were in the hall that led to the inside of the common room, and that both Moony and Prongs made sure there was no one watching, you and Peter turned at once. Sirius picked you up and held you in his arms, while Moony adjusted the cloak to make sure it was covering everyone up and finally, you left the common room.

That’s where things went south. Just as the bricks opened themselves again someone was walking inside. The three boys took a step to the side as Slughorn walked in. The three leaned against the wall, Sirius carefully squeezed you, or Vixen, against his chest, so you occupied as little space as possible. You noticed Peter trying to distract Slughorn by walking near his feet, but he still seemed focused on walking in, the first thing he noticed was the ghosts making their own little mess, the main distraction.

Thankfully the headless hunt was not about to be deterred by one teacher, and they continued with their task as Slughorn called for help. This wasn’t meant to be now, it should’ve been later. You turned to look at the boys, they all had apprehensive stares, you could practically smell their stress as they finally unglued their backs from the wall and started walking towards the hallway. Once in the dungeons, and away from the havoc you had caused, you thought you were safe. And perhaps you would’ve been, had Evan not been coming back from the infirmary so late.

He pretty much bumped into the invisible wall that was your three friends, and all would have been fine, except for the fact that he straight-up stepped on James’ feet and he grunted in response.

“Potter?” Evan asked, instantly recognizing his voice.

Fuck.

Evan extended his hand to grab onto the front but the boys pulled back just in time. Regardless, Evan didn’t relent, “Potter I know it’s you. Either you come the fuck out or I’ll hex your stupid rat,” he said, pulling a screeching Peter out of his pocket. James swallowed and gave each Sirius and Remus a look; you tried to jump down from Sirius’s grasp, perhaps you could distract Evan by biting him while Peter escaped, but Sirius tightened his hold as you tried to squirm away. He knew what you were thinking, but he also knew Evan could just kick you out of the way, and he was not going to risk you being hurt by his hands again.

Evan pointed his long and thin wand towards Wormtail and you felt everyone tense even more. “Come on Jamesie, you wouldn’t allow me to kill your stupid rat, would you?” he added. “How much damage do you think a confringo like the one your stupid little friend used on me earlier today would cause? Hmmm… Perhaps I could use him as target practice…” Evan tilted his head, “No?” he asked again, “well then,” he added and adjusted his wand in his hand. Peter shrieked again, “We’ll see if your stupid rat ends up better or worse than your friend after the Shrieking Shack.”

To your surprise, it wasn’t James who jumped to protect Peter, but it was Sirius. He handed you over to James who barely managed to react and grab you before he left the cloak and planted his fist on Evan’s face. Peter fell from his hands and shrieked as his face crashed onto the floor just before running off.

Evan staggered back, reeling from the sheer force of Sirius’ punch but he retaliated, shoving Sirius with eager ferocity as if he had been longing for a challenge. One where he actually won. Evan was much taller and broader than Sirius, and you squirmed in James’ arms yearning to intervene but he held you firmly, casting down an impatient glance before turning his attention back to the boys.

Evan managed to land a solid on Sirius’ jaw, but the longer-haired boy didn’t even flinch, instead he used the momentum and the loss of balance from Evan to throw himself towards his opponent, effectively managing to throw the blonde on the ground. You winced as Evan turned the two of them around and started hitting Sirius’ defenceless face.

In response to the escalating violence, James panicked –handing you over to Remus who cradled you with a lot more consideration– and he too left the cloak, leaving only you and the werewolf inside. However, Sirius had already managed to turn things around, he had started to punch Evan repeatedly in the face. James lunged forward to intervene, but he got accidentally elbowed by Sirius, who, swivelling in concern, was met with another punch from Evan.

When you figured James wouldn’t be able to stop them, you started squirming again, a lot more intensely now but Remus’ hold didn’t budge. So instead you turned back, which surprised the boy only for a second as you ended up pretty much shoved against him. You were just about to leave the cloak too when you heard a voice.

“STOOOP!” Slughorn roared.

After looking at the man using his wand to pull Sirius and Evan apart, you were ready to jump out, but Remus’ strong arms tightened around you, not letting you out. You weren’t sure if it had been intentional or not, but somehow he hadn’t touched your wound while he did.

“Remus what–“ You started to complain, but he placed his hand over your mouth and started dragging you back and away from the upheaval.

You tried to fight it, but it was useless. Remus was much more stronger than you, once you were far away enough he whispered, “It’s okay, they’re okay.” You frowned, he must have felt how tense you were, because he continued talking, voice a lot more soothing now, “if I had let you out there, you would have achieved nothing other than getting punished along with them.”

You knew he was right, and yet that didn’t reduce the urge you had to bite him for talking your agency away. You jerked your shoulders in response, still angry, feeling a sharp pain in your arm that should have calmed you down, but Evan being such an ass to Peter had made you angry enough. Hitting your boyfriend in the face? You were actually considering hexing him again, intentionally this time around. You took a deep breath, you felt Remus’ hand brushing up and down over your good arm, still attempting to relieve your anger… And as much as you hated to admit it, it was distractingly relaxing.

You tried to shake him off one last time before completely relaxing into his arms. He leaned in closer to whisper again, “Remember I was telling you about not getting caught?” He asked. And waited for you to answer. His hand was still over your mouth, you raised your eyebrows at him. He gave you a look, not moving his hand away. And eventually, you just nodded. He was smart, he knew you well too, you could have screamed, you could still see Slughorn talking to Evan and the boys from where you stood.

You could have also bit him, force him to remove his hand from your face, but you had no intention of hurting Remus. Perhaps you didn’t want to get punished along them either, the more you thought about it, the more sense it made to try and stay in the sidelines and make sure the prank was completed, even if Prongs and Pads had gotten caught.

“Well, this is one of those moments in which staying behind, and in the quiet is best,” he said softly, vocalising your own thoughts. “James and Sirius are going to get detention regardless of whether you intervene or not. Trust me, I too wanted to punch Evan in the face after he said that about the Shrieking Shack but I knew it was best to hold back. I don’t think he would’ve hurt Peter.”

You wondered if Remus had seen or heard about the way his hands had dug into your skin that day in the Forbidden Forest, about the bruises Sirius later covered up with his kisses. Even then, some of the marks still fading in your skin, you didn’t think Evan would actually hurt Peter either, in fact, you weren’t even sure he had hurt you on purpose. That’s not something you would’ve said of Barty, he was completely unhinged.

Remus was still holding you flush against his body when he took a deep breath. He had felt how much more relaxed you were now, somehow his voice and his touch had gotten you to calm down.

He shouldn’t have been surprised, it wasn’t the first time it happened, but you had been so much more rilled up this time than back when the boys threw you and Sirius from your brooms that he wasn’t even sure if you’d forgive him for stopping you.

“I’m gonna take my hand away from your mouth, okay?” You nodded again, he did, and rested his forehead on your shoulder, sighing when he realised you really weren’t going to scream. “I’m sorry,” he added then, “shouldn’t have grabbed you like that.”

“It’s okay,” you said quietly, “I don’t mind it if you hold me Remus…” you mumbled. “I mean… Thank you.”

“What?!” he asked, baffled.

“You were right, it would have been stupid to join the fight. I wouldn’t have been able to do anything, I need to be more calm instead. Like I was in the library with the howler, like you. It’s just that Evan punching Sirius fucking vexed me.”

“I know…” he managed to say, me too, he thought. In fact, if you hadn’t been around, he might have actually been the person to throw punches after Sirius got the first one. Evan might have been taller and broader than your boyfriend, but he was no match against Remus, let alone if you factored in his werewolf strength.

You leaned back against him, the back of your head resting against his shoulder as you too sighed, “Does it always feel so terrible when a prank goes wrong?”

He hummed in response, “they’ll be all right, detention is just sitting in a classroom being bored or writing an essay most of the time… Don’t worry too much about them.”

“Feels bad that we’ll get out of this scots free but they won’t, though.”

“Survivors' guilt.”

You hummed, closing your eyes, “Thanks for holding me back,” you said again, “I don’t know what I’d do without you Rem.”

He stifled a laugh at that, you’d probably be more than fine without him. He, on the other hand… “Count on your good old werewolf friend to help you hold those murderous tendencies,” he joked. You actually laughed at that, and then covered your mouth with your hands, looking around.

“It’s all right, you can laugh, I cast a silencing spell,” he said, motioning to his hand with a small nod, he had his wand in a hold.

“Was that before or after you took your hand away from my mouth?” you asked. The guilty look on his face was hidden by your shoulder, but his lack of a straight answer gave him away regardless. “Dumbass, I wouldn’t have screamed, I’m not that reckless.”

“You literally left your wand on the floor with a werewolf in front of you. You ARE that reckless.”

“Well it wasn’t just any werewolf,” you said in self-defence, even if you were only digging yourself in a deeper hole. There was a comfortable silence and you sighed one last time, “We should finish up, the grand finale,” you said, finally separating from him, the lack of warmth almost made you shiver, “gotta make our boys proud, don’t we?”

He smiled, his eyes shimmering with mischief, “Let’s do it.”

Glossaire: Mo chailleachan àlainn: My beautiful fools Est-ce que ça fait de toi mon trésor?: Does that make you my treasure? Je peux être tout ce que tu veux que je sois: I can be whatever you wish me to be. Oui, mon amour: Yes my love

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A/N: Hey guys, this episode definetly took a little longer to post than I expected. But it's finally out! Hope you enjoy this one as much as I enjoyed writing it. How are we feeling? More cute Rem moments, right? What's gonna happen to James and Sirius though? ᕙ( ᗒᗣᗕ )ᕗ Lilly xxx

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brbsoulnomming · 8 months

Text

Tell Me Sweet Little Lies Part 24

Rating: mature

-----

The next morning, he and Robin drape themselves over a pair of pool chairs to get their lounge on while Steve works on getting the pool in good enough shape for their upcoming party.

It means watching Steve in nothing but a t-shirt and a pair of cut off shorts, so Eddie's very on board.

Robin scoffs next to him. "I am so glad you got your shit together so I don't have to tiptoe around you drooling right now."

"I'm not drooling!" Eddie insists, though he does wipe his hand over his mouth just to check.

No drool.

"Metaphorically," Robin clarifies, grinning at him. "By all means, oogle away. Just know Steve's probably showing off a little on purpose."

Eddie squints at him, and sure enough - there's probably no need for Steve to be lifting things that often.

"I hate that it's working," Eddie grumbles.

"Of course it's working." Robin rolls her eyes.

Right, of course it is. Eddie's always known that Steve was very attractive - it used to irritate the hell out of him, that he was susceptible to the same allure as the rest of the masses of Hawkins High. The fact that he thought Steve was a douche used to counter it, but, well.

Now he's pretty much in love with the guy.

Eddie leans forward a little, fiddling with some blades of grass by his chair. "Steve's, uh. It's true, right, that he's had a lot of sex with a lot of girls?"

Robin nods. "It's true. He was in a slump when I first met him, but before - well, before you, he was complaining about all his meaningless relationships that were just about sex when he wanted a real connection."

That's… Eddie doesn't know exactly what that is, actually, or how he feels about it. He thinks it should be weird, talking about this when they're both dating Steve, but - it doesn't feel weird, not really. "That doesn't bother you?"

"Does it bother me that he's been with more girls than I can count before I even got my first kiss? Not really. I mean, sure, I guess a little, in an ugh why is it so easy for him and so hard for me, but, you know. We both had our different ways of finding our other soulmate. Apparently neither of them were successful, since the Upside Down brought you to Steve, and I'm still striking out." She pauses, then adds, "Plus he's like really good at eating girls out, so I'm not going to complain about getting to benefit from him demonstrating his technique."

He takes it back, it's weird and uncomfortable and that was way too much information about their sex life.

Whatever face he's making gets her to laugh at him, eyes crinkling.

"Don't worry, it probably translates over decently well. Besides, I've seen him practically deep throat a banana so you're probably good. Oh, has he gotten to do that thing with his tongue yet?"

Eddie squeaks. He's pretty sure his face is bright red, considering how much it's burning, and Robin's laughter turns into a cackle.

Steve overhears the laughter and turns towards them, hip cocked as he squints at them.

"What's so funny?" he calls.

"Just asking Eddie if he's gotten to experience your tongue skills yet!" she calls back.

"Robin!" Steve yelps, dropping the pool net to come over to them.

"What?" she asks. "Weren't you the one who was whining at me about how you wanted to choke on his dick and then eat him out until he cried?"

The blood that had been flooding his cheeks immediately rushes south, and Eddie has to lean over to adjust his pants and try to make that less obvious.

Yes, please, sign him up for all of that.

"In confidence! I told you that in confidence!" Steve sputters.

Eddie leans back, tipping his head up at Steve with a slow smirk. "I'm feeling a little hurt, here, Harrington, how come I haven't gotten a fruit demonstration?"

Steve gapes at him for a moment, just long enough for Eddie to start to regain his footing.

Then Steve's eyes narrow.

"If I was demonstrating for you, Munson, it wouldn't be on fruit," he replies.

Steve turns his back on them and returns to the pool, leaving Eddie to make a protesting noise - that is not a whine, no matter how much he can read that in Robin's eyes while she laughs at him.

"Do I need to shove you in the pool to cool you off?" she teases.

"Shut up," he mutters, adjusting himself again.

Then he tips his head back and closes his eyes, because if he looks at Steve again in the next fifteen minutes or so, he might need to take Robin up on that.

—

They eat lunch all jammed together on the couch, plates balanced on their laps. Steve's eating with his left hand, because his right hand is holding Eddie's left. Their fingers are laced together, and Steve refuses to let go, and Eddie's pretty sure his cheeks are flushed red, but he's really not going to complain about it.

There's a little bit of sauce on the corner of Steve's lip, and ridiculously, it makes Eddie want to lean in to lick it off.

Fuck, he really wants to kiss him. Is he allowed to kiss him, is that weird? Steve and Robin haven't kissed in front of him, but Eddie kind of figures that's because they knew he had hang ups about the sharing thing.

Ugh, if he wants kissing Steve when they're like this to be on the table, it's probably going to be on him to talk about it.

Eddie clears his throat. "Hey, uh," he starts, but has no idea where to go after that.

Robin makes a little encouraging noise.

"I appreciate you guys holding back on the PDA around me while I figured all this out, but you don't have to anymore," he says.

Steve's eyebrows raise. He looks down, where Robin's toes are shoved under his thigh and he'd been in the middle of eating the olives off of her plate. "I hate to break it to you, Eds, but we haven't been holding back all that much."

"Well, yeah, not for that, but-" Eddie pauses, switching to come at this from another angle. "Not a lot of people know about me. And I'm guessing - not a lot know about Steve?"

Steve nods when Eddie looks at him for confirmation. "Just Robin and you, and Max and Lucas."

Eddie smiles a little. "Same, but Uncle Wayne knows about me."

"Just you and Steve, Max and Lucas for me," Robin adds, which -

Eddie hadn't known that, actually, but it makes him smile brightly at her. It makes it even better, knowing that Robin's in the same boat as him and Steve - that she gets it. "You're the only one who knows about me and Steve, and me and Steve. I don't know how you feel about telling the others who know?"

Steve considers that. "I feel okay," he says finally. "But if we tell Lucas and Max, we have to tell the rest of the party. It's not fair to have them keep that secret."

Eddie doesn't disagree, but - "Table that for now, then. So yeah, just you. And I'd really, really like to just kiss Steve without thinking about it when it's just the three of us, so it'd be really shitty of me if I told you not to."

There's a moment of silence as Robin and Steve look at each other with near identical expressions of confusion.

"Eddie," Robin says after a moment. "I like girls."

Eddie frowns. He thought they just covered that. "Yeah?"

"Only girls," she clarifies.

What.

"But Steve-" he starts.

"Is not a girl," Robin finishes.

"Definitely not a girl," Steve adds.

"Wait, so you - so you're not -" Eddie stammers.

Jesus fucking Christ.

"Oh my God, Eddie, have you thought we were dating this whole time?" Robin shrieks.

"Yes! Of course I did! Look at you!" Eddie gestures at them.

"You said you told him!" Steve hisses at Robin.

"I did!" Robin protests.

"I think I would have remembered that!" Eddie counters.

"We were sitting in the kitchen! I told you that Steve has two soulmates, a platonic," she gestures at herself, the motion just as exaggerated as the word. "And a romantic!" She gestures at Eddie this time.

Eddie closes his eyes, fights the urge to just keep repeating Jesus Christ, and opens them again. "Buckley. I wasn't looking at you while we were talking."

"You weren't - well that's just rude, Munson! What were you so busy staring at that you couldn't pay attention to me in the very important discussion we were having?" Robin demands.

Eddie's eyes cut to Steve.

Her gaze must follow his, because she groans. "Of course you were looking at Steve. See, look at that, another person ignoring me because they're obsessed with you."

Eddie squawks. "I wasn't obsessed with-"

His jaw snaps shut as he realizes that might not be a lie.

Shit.

Steve grins at him, looking just a little bit too smug. "It's okay," he says. "I'm kind of obsessed with you, too."

Robin groans, face planting onto Steve's shoulder. "How did we miss this?"

"I thought we were being so mature," Steve agrees. "So open and communicative."

"In my defense, you two did shower together," Eddie points out.

"Not like that!" Robin says.

"How do you shower together but not like that?" Eddie demands.

Steve shrugs. "The same way you wash someone's hair but not like that?"

Eddie makes a face at him. "Yeah, that doesn't count, I wanted to jump you the whole time."

Steve opens his mouth, then closes it again. "Yeah, okay, me too," he admits. "You kept making these little sounds, I just-"

Eddie waggles his eyebrows. "Keep going, Stevie, you just what?"

"Get sidetracked later," Robin cuts in. "The point is - technically, Steve showered while I was brushing my teeth, and I showered while he was doing his hair care routine. We're soulmates, it's not like it matters what we see."

"But - there was giggling, and smacking, and - other noises," Eddie protests, but it's a weak one now.

Steve shrugs. "My back was all fucked up, man, you know that. Rob was helping me with the bandages."

"And Steve was doing his stupid shower characters," Robin adds, rolling her eyes. "He makes himself a dumb beard out of shaving cream or a stupid hairstyle out of shampoo and does terrible voices, and it's awful and I don't hate it at all."

Eddie - Eddie can imagine that perfectly, actually, and fuck, something so stupid shouldn't make him want so badly, but there it is.

"Stop," he whines. "I'm already in love with you, stop making it worse."

Both Steve and Robin freeze, but it still takes him a moment to realize what he just said.

Oh shit.

Eddie swallows, building up his courage for a moment before he sneaks a look at Steve.

Steve's looking back, just a little bit awestruck. "You love me?"

Eddie can't pull his hand free to fidget with his wrist brace, so he plays with Steve's fingers instead. "Well, yeah. I kind of thought that was obvious."

Then again, apparently some things all three of them thought were obvious were very much not obvious, and he grimaces.

"Yeah," he says. "I really do."

Robin kicks Steve in the thigh, leaning over and snatching their plates out of their laps. "Upstairs, now," she informs them. "I know that look, Steve, and if you're going to make out with him you're not doing it sitting next to me on the couch."

"Upstairs?" Steve asks, and who the hell is Eddie to say no to that?

"Just remember you're supposed to pick Dustin up for patrol in half an hour!" Robin yells up after them. "And I will not be stalling if he walkies asking what's taking you so long!"

"Guess we shouldn't waste any time." Eddie turns to Steve with a smirk, one eyebrow raised, only to find himself pinned to the wall in the upstairs hallway.

Steve crowds in against him, kissing him in short little bursts, like he keeps trying to pull back to say something but can't make himself stop for long.

Eddie doesn't make it easy for him to pull away, chasing him every time he does to kiss him again. He drags his teeth along Steve's bottom lip the next time he pulls back, but this time, Steve actually does stop long enough to speak.

"I love you, too," he pants out against Eddie's lips, the words muffled by how close they are together.

And Eddie - yeah, part of him had known. Like he told Uncle Wayne, it was obvious that Steve cared about him, and it was just as obvious that Steve was really into him.

But mostly knowing about it and hearing it confirmed are two different things, and Eddie surges forward to kiss him again.

Steve presses him back against the wall, one thigh wedged between Eddie's legs - still in those cut off shorts, and if Eddie could bring himself to break the kiss long enough to look down, he's pretty sure he'd get more than a flash of hairy skin. Eddie groans, rolling his hips up so he can at least grind against his thigh.

"Yeah?" Steve asks, before his tongue slides into his mouth at the same time his thigh presses up and up, giving Eddie more friction to rut against.

Which he immediately takes advantage of, grabbing Steve's ass with both hands and holding on as they rock together.

"Wanna make you feel good," Steve says, dropping little biting kisses along the line of Eddie's jaw. "Want you to tell me everything you like."

Eddie huffs out a shaky little laugh. "I, uh. I've never done this before, Stevie."

Steve tips his head back to look at him, brows furrowed for a moment before he seems to get that Eddie means, like, ever.

Despite the fact that he's mostly sure Steve isn't going to make fun of him, his stomach still drops when Steve groans and drops his head down into Eddie's shoulder.

"Steve?" Eddie asks.

"We gotta stop," Steve replies, muffled. "We've only got like twenty minutes left now, and that's really not enough for everything I want to do with you."

Eddie's dick throbs where it's still pressed against Steve's thigh. "It's enough for something, though, come on."

Steve pulls back to look at him. "Eds, your first time is not going to be a quickie in our hallway with Robin downstairs and Dustin waiting on me."

Eddie considers that, then rolls his hips up again, grinning smugly when it makes Steve inhale sharply. "Yeah, I'm pretty okay with that for my first mutual orgasm experience."

Steve makes a face at him, the impact of which is a little ruined by his slightly glazed eyes. "I'm not."

Eddie grunts. "I'm not a girl," he manages to growl out.

Steve looks down between them, where Eddie's still very hard and very pressed into him. "I noticed."

"Then don't treat me like some delicate little virgin," Eddie snaps.

Steve huffs. "It's not like that, it's - fine, why did you tell me, then?"

"What?" Eddie asks, thrown.

"If it's not a big deal, why did you say anything?"

"I… I don't know," Eddie admits. "I just - thought you should be aware, I guess, in case you were expecting something else."

Someone who knew what they were doing.

"Eds," Steve breathes out, tipping his head in to kiss him again. "I'm not expecting anything but you, I promise. Just you, that's all I want."

"That's all?" Eddie asks, and he means it to be teasing, but it comes out a little shaky.

"I want - look, I know it's crap about virginity being special and your first time being perfect and all that, but… it's also not crap."

Eddie raises an eyebrow.

"It's - it should be good, Eddie. You deserve to have something go right. I want to take my time with you, not be thinking about how we have to rush."

Well when Steve puts it like that.

"You're such a romantic," Eddie teases.

Steve's ears go a little pink, but he shrugs. "Yeah, I guess I kind of am."

Eddie pulls him back in for another kiss. "I love you," he whispers against his lips, part because he does and part just to see if he can get Steve all riled up again.

"Not fair," Steve mutters back.

Eddie can't help but laugh a little. "It work?"

"Yes." Steve kisses him again. "But it didn't change my mind."

He steps back, though Eddie's pleased to note that he looks both rumpled and reluctant. Eddie sighs, then reaches out to fix Steve's collar, run his fingers through his hair. Steve does the same for him, and it feels -

Well, pretty fucking good, actually.

They head back downstairs. Robin cheers for them, shouting, "Three minutes to spare!"

Steve rolls his eyes, leans over to kiss the top of her head.

Then he drags Eddie to the front door with him so they can kiss again, long and lingering, before Steve finally heads back out.

Eddie drifts back into the living room to sit down next to Robin again, trying not to look too dazed.

She huffs at him, and it's only then that he realizes this is the first time they've been alone since she told him she was coming back for him.

"You still pissed at me?"

Robin rolls her eyes. "No, you fixed that last night. For the record - it wasn't at you, not really. Steve was miserable, which gets my hackles up. I know, he said he was happy no matter what, but I know him. He would have been hung up on you for ages. Plus, the boy likes sex," she adds matter-of-factly. "It would have been awful dealing with him pining and all pent up from not getting laid."

Eddie snorts.

"What?" Robin asks.

"Nothing," Eddie replies. "Just - I'm really glad we don't have to work out a schedule for both of us having sex with him."

Robin lets out a sound that's some unholy mix between a giggle and a shriek. "Okay, first, thanks for putting that mental image in my brain, I need at least three shots later tonight to get that out. Second - oh my god we would run him ragged, he's pretty insatiable but I'm not sure even he could keep up with the two of us."

Eddie cackles, head tipping back in a laughter there's no way he can contain. "I really love you, Robbie," he says quietly when he's managed to calm down.

Her eyes are soft as she looks at him. "Yeah," she says. "I do, too."

"I can't promise that I won't ever hurt him," he says. "Because, you know, sometimes I get up in my head about stuff, and sometimes I miss things. But I love him. It's always going to be him. I won't - I won't ever leave him, or give up on us."

Robin's quiet for a long time. "You and I aren't really soulmates, you know. I can't tell if you just lied to me."

Eddie knows what his knee-jerk reaction to that is. But he sits with it for a moment, breathes in and breathes out, and then decides knee-jerk was the right reaction. "Yeah, you can."

Robin smiles at him, reaching out to tug on a lock of his hair. "Yeah, I can," she agrees.

He opens his arms, and she hugs him, then shoves him off.

"Come on, Steve left us to do the lunch dishes."

—

Steve brings home pizza for dinner when he gets done with patrolling.

"Hey, I was thinking - do you want to head out to Forest Hills when we're done?" Steve asks while they eat. "There's not really anyone there anymore, we could see if there's anything left of yours you want to get."

Eddie considers that. Part of him isn't sure he wants to go back there, ever, but the other part kind of feels like he needs to see it. To make it real again, and not just a thing in his nightmares.

So he agrees, and they head out after they clean up dinner - Robin refuses to get stuck with it this time.

It still feels strange, driving around in the front seat of Steve's Bimmer, but mostly a nice strange. They don't pass many cars on the way out there, and Steve's got Trooper's Thick as Thieves album playing quietly, and Eddie can just lean back and alternate looking out the window with looking at the beautiful boy in the driver's seat.

Steve pulls a couple of empty boxes out of the trunk when they get there, and Eddie sees him hesitate over the nail bat that's still in there from his patrol earlier.

"Here," Eddie says, taking the boxes so Steve can grab the bat.

There hasn't been any sign of Vecna or the Upside Down on their patrols yet, but Eddie's pretty sure they'll both feel better if Steve's carrying it.

The trailer is barely holding together, a huge chunk ripped out of the living room, and Eddie swallows back a surge of tears.

He knows they have insurance, knows what Uncle Wayne said about the stuff in the trailer, but - it was the first place that ever really felt like home to Eddie. Even though the home was more about Uncle Wayne himself than the physical trailer, it hurts seeing it like this.

"Hey," Steve says softly. "We don't have to do this tonight, we can wait."

We.

Like it's just a guarantee that whenever Eddie does decide to look through the shattered remains of his life, Steve will be right there with him. No question.

It shouldn't be, but it's still a little bit of a surprise to realize that Eddie believes it.

"No," he says, though he does lean in for a kiss. "I want to get this over with. Come on, let's look in my room."

His room isn't as bad as the living room, but it's still pretty trashed. He gets to work rifling through the debris while Steve hangs out in the doorway, nailbat on one shoulder and keeping an eye on the dormant but still not closed gate in the living room.

Eventually, Eddie manages to find about a couple of boxes worth of clothes, most of his jewelry, some D&D things, a few other odds and ends. It's not a lot, but it's more than Eddie thought he might have, which lifts his spirits a little.

"I can stop borrowing your clothes all the time," Eddie tells Steve.

Steve makes a face like he's trying not to say anything.

"What?" Eddie asks.

"…I kind of like you in my clothes," Steve admits.

Eddie barks out a little laugh, then sets down his box so he can sidle into Steve's space. "Oh yeah?" he asks, cocking one eyebrow. "You want me to wear your letterman jacket?"

Steve tips his head, which Eddie is pretty damn sure means yes, but I don't want to say it.

"Steve Harrington," Eddie teases as he hooks his fingers in the waistband of Steve's jeans and gives it a tug. "You wanna be my boyfriend?"

"I'm your soulmate," Steve replies, rolling his eyes, but he doesn't stop himself from being reeled in.

"You wanna be my boyfriend," Eddie repeats, voice sing song, and steals another kiss.

"You were the one who said you wanted the full Steve Harrington experience," Steve teases back.

"I was joking!" Eddie replies, but he realized the moment he says it that - well, no, he kind of wasn't.

Steve grins widely at him. "No, you weren't," he retorts, with all the confidence of someone who's just felt a new lie being written on them.

Eddie raises his eyebrows at him. "So what are you going to do about it, then?"

Steve leans in to kiss him one more time. "Come on. Let's get out of here first."

And, well, all right, Eddie can't exactly protest that.

He picks up two boxes, leaving Steve to grab the third and his bat, then the two of them head back out of the trailer.

They're not too far from what's left of the front door when the sound of footsteps crunches on the gravel nearby.

It's probably just one of the handful of folks too stubborn to leave Forest Hills, but - it's dark, and Eddie can't see anyone, and he can't help the rush of panic that he feels. It must hit Steve the same way, because when he turns back to look at him, he sees that Steve has gone still, head tilted like he's listening.

The sound of a gun cocking rings out far louder than it should.

"Don't move," Jason Carver says.

-----

Tag list (always happy to add more!): @vampireinthesun @koibug @estrellami-1 @mentalcyborg @allbimyself26 @questionablequeeries @the-s-is-silent @whimsicalwitchm @a-gae-af-racoon @tinyplanet95 @n0-1-important @velocitytimes2 @swimmingbirdrunningrock @newtstabber @jcmadgirl @roblingoblin285 @lexyvey @paperbackribs @goodolefashionedloverboi @evix-syne666 @raisedbylibrarians @stxrcrossed186 @nightmareglitter @greekgeek24 @starman-jpg @crazyhatlady86 @imfinereallyy @manda-panda-monium @deleataecount @prideandsensibility @chaoticvictorianspirit @maydillydally @disrespectedgoatman @scarlet-malfoy @i-less-than-three-you @hbyrde36 @hallucinatedjosten @dragonsandgayships @arepaconchocolate @g4ys0n @novelnovella @bisexualdisastersworld @ghostofyourvampiregf @scarletyeager @pettrichore @nerd-and-nervous @hiimlevi @queenie-ofthe-void @cinnamon-mushroomabomination

At least all three of them are finally on the same page?

Part 25

#steddie #stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #robin buckley #steddie fic #steddie soulmate au #platonic soulmates stobin

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cambion-companion · 7 months

Note

I cannot concentrate on my work (ironically as a TA writing up my phd thesis) because I read your intelligence 8 tav x raphael fics and now I am shaken to the core and all I wanna do is daydream about being a clueless little slut in the house of hoep

please saer can I have some more

hahaha I'm so glad that brain worm took root, intelligence 8 Tav is delightful. I also wanted to incorporate this lovely ask as well and express my gratitude for the support you all have given me this month. All is well! Enjoy a drabble with a Tav/reader utterly oblivious to the true nature of a cambion...to them he's just a tiefling with wings! how cool!

Raphael + reader (gn) drabble

(I'll probably write another that's more romantic/cute but this was too funny to pass up)

"You have an uncanny talent at getting into the most outlandish situations." Raphael pinched the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger, inhaling a deep breath.

You looked around at the decadent room he'd rented for himself, steam rising from two baths and flower petals ornamenting the lush red carpet. "I wouldn't think a devil-guy would be the sort to have tulips thrown about."

"Roses." Raphael corrected, his hand clasping firm about your upper arm just in time to save you from slipping on the wet tile and braining yourself. "I would wager a hefty sum of gold your mind does not entertain too many thoughts at one time."

"Thank you." You murmured, touched. You allowed him to escort you to safety upon a chair and watched with vague interest at how his lips twisted in bemusement. "I should thank you for saving my bacon back there. Wasn't expecting to survive that. But Shart always gets Withers to bring me back when we run out of those glowy scroll things."

"I do believe I sense a migraine coming on." Raphael squeezed his eyes shut briefly before crossing to pour you both a glass of dark brown alcohol.

You took the fancy crystal glass and downed the drink with gusto, only realizing your mistake when the scorching whiskey had passed into your gullet, and you burst into a coughing fit. Raphael sighed and gave you a solid couple thumps on your back as you struggled to breath. "There now. Death by imbibing spirits too eagerly is no way to enter the afterlife. Not until you've served your purpose, at least."

"What?"

"I'm concerned for your well-being, dear."

You wiped your eyes with your sleeve. "That's really nice of you, Raph." He winced at the nickname but just barely managed to keep a pleasant neutral expression. "I don't know why everyone else threw such a fit about you, you're not a bad dude."

"I'm flattered." Raphael almost felt a sense of annoyance at how easy this was. He enjoyed a challenge, and this mortal was certainly not bringing it. He drained his glass fluidly and returned it with a clink to the table. "Now, your person is more or less stable for the time being."

You looked around, checking behind you. "What person?"

"Your body has been plucked from the peril you so naively flounced into." Raphael clarified, a slight edge to his words now, he was running low on patience. "Be a good mouse and run along, fetch me the crown and we can part ways amicably."

"I never imagined mice to be much good at fetching." You mused, rising to your feet as Raphael practically pushed you from his room. "That seems more a dog's forte. Oh, we have a most wonderful dog back at camp-"

The door closed in your face, so close it almost clipped your nose. You stared at the dark wood for a moment, then smiled and shrugged. You spoke a little louder so he would be able to hear through it. "His name is Scratch! What was I saying? Oh yes, dogs fetch crowns and balls better than mice! Maybe keep that in mind when giving people animal nicknames!"

No answer.

He must have gone to take a nap. You were sure cambions probably did that often since they seemed to act much like cats in every other way.

Smiling to yourself you departed, convinced that you and Raphael were now bosom friends.

#raphael bg3 #raphael x tav #raphael x reader #raphael baldur's gate 3 #drabble #fanfiction #baldur's gate 3 #raphael x you

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justimajin · 9 months

Text

The Language of Flowers

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Angst

↳ 9.5k / Hanahaki AU

⇨ Hanahaki (pre-existing concept): a fictional disease in which an individual will cough up flowers after experiencing unrequited love.

Warnings: heavy angst, discussions of illness/surgery, implied smut (on the explicit end)

Love is funny.

It blossoms unexpectedly, spontaneously conjuring up within seconds. A spur of the moment, which draws in budding affection. Love at first sight, that flourishes into sparks of tender electricity. Or simply an unexpected encounter, getting spun into something more meaningful.

It develops, it grows. It becomes so much more as the handles of time spiral, adoration and devotion thrown into the mix and creating everlasting bliss.

Until of course, it becomes long term, its longevity and commitment spanning an entire lifetime.

You glance around, pupils revolving around the blooming garden. There are long tables lined into rows, draped with lilac silk material and decorated with bright yellow flowers. Amongst them, an array of individuals are seated, chattering with one another.

You find her closer to the fencing, where fairy lights are looped and a giant white board stands, the word ‘Engaged’ written in bold cursive purple.

“Aera.” She turns around, dressed in a short white lace dress with a small tiara resting on her black hair, making her appear like a princess. Her eyes are wide, having been in mid-conversation before she heard your voice call out to her.

Her lips tug into a huge smile upon seeing your tender look, moving forward to envelop you into a hug. “Y/N!”

You hug her back, “Thank you so much for coming. It wouldn’t have been possible without you.”

“Don’t say that.” You sheepishly chuckle, but she presses on.

“Oh, come on, you’re the one that introduced me to him.”

You dismiss her, “I just introduced you two, you were the one to take it a step further.”

Taking a step back, you gesture to the entire display of the white board and a bubbly laugh emerges from her.

“Let me at least give you some credit.”

“Fine, maybe I helped a little.” You retort and she grins at your acceptance.

A low voice cuts through your conversation.

“I moved the balloons like you wanted, the decorator said–”

A young man appearing to be within his twenties emerges, donning a white dress shirt with a black tie and pants. His dark hair is styled and parted back, brows furrowed and doe eyes swirling with focus.

It doesn’t take you a second later to whisper his name.

“Jungkook?”

He halts his steps, frozen by the sound of his name. Head snapping up, recognition flows through his orbs.

Within a heartbeat, he shutters out. “Y-Y/N?”

Aera darts her eyes between both of you, taken aback with the familiarity with a frown.

“Do the two of you know each other?”

“Ah– yes,” You quickly clarify, “We work together.”

“Yeah, we do.” He replies, scratching the back of his neck. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here…”

“Well, I am friends with the bride.” You chuckle.

Aera pitches in, placing a hand on Jungkook’s shoulder. “And she introduced me to Sunoo, Kookie!”

He stiffens. “I see…”

“How do the two of you know each other?” You ponder, surprised by their proximity. If anything, you at least knew that Jungkook was greatly distant at work, never really going out of his way to speak to anyone.

Aera warmly smiles, looping her arm around Jungkook’s, “Let me reintroduce you to the Jeon Jungkook,” She gazes at him with tender eyes, “My childhood friend and the person dearest to my heart…“

Pausing, she adds in, “–after Sunoo, of course.”

You nod understandably, but Jungkook lets out a low cough.

“I-I should go,” He brings up, “See if the decorator needs any more help.”

You watch as he loops out of her arm, swiftly turning around without another word.

A pout surfaces on Aera’s lips, like she wanted him to stay longer with you.

But then she turns and catches your intrigued gaze, orbs brightening up in an instant. She dips into conversation once more as if he never left, occupied with showcasing the giant ring that now sits on her third finger.

Yet if you had been paying enough attention, you would have noticed the flicker of dread in Jungkook’s eyes.

***

As you attempt to catch up with Aera, it’s not long before she’s being whisked away by her husband-to-be, who you warmly greet with a smile.

Being left alone, you decide to head over to one of the side tables, setting down the gift you had bought for them before filtering through all the guests to find your seat.

Locating an empty one on the same table Aera and Sunoo would be at, you sit down and take a napkin, carefully placing it down onto your lap.

From the corner of your eye, you catch sight of Jungkook. He glances around, doe eyes frantic and lips pursed. He awkwardly lingers for a moment – like he was debating on being there, unsure of where to look or where to go.

It’s surprising to you, considering only moments ago he was effortlessly navigating himself to the decorator’s instructions.

You hesitate for a moment, knowing the two of you aren’t particularly close. However, as his confusion spins by the minute, you ultimately decide it wouldn’t be so bad and give in.

“Jungkook!” You call out, watching his train of vision fall onto you. Taking out a chair next to you, your hand waves over with a warm smile.

Jungkook glances around one more time, before walking over with his head ducked down.

Instead of taking the one beside you, he takes the one on the opposite side – the one that is furthest away from Aera.

You raise a brow, wondering why he didn’t want to sit closer to the bride and of course, his childhood friend, but you freeze when your orbs land on his appearance.

His eyes are glossed over, tinged with red. They almost seem hollow, dark circles collecting underneath them and his shoulders are caved in.

“Are–…” You quickly glance around, words dropping into a whisper before leaning in, “Are you okay?”

Jungkook’s pupils snap back into life and he furiously nods, shifting uncomfortably away from you.

“Y-Yeah, I’m okay.” He sniffles, voice coming out hoarse. His field of vision lands on the decorations upon the table, features straining with dismay, “I’m just allergic to the flowers.”

Your own eyes follow his line of sight, falling onto the beautiful, bright yellow petals. In fact, they’re littered everywhere – from the long tables lined up, to the blooming garden, to even attached to the white board that sits in the front.

“Tulips,” You remark, “Aera’s–”

“Favorite flower.” He mumbles, pupils focused down on his fidgeting hands and not bothering to take a glance at them.

An involuntary harsh cough escapes his throat.

You lean over, grabbing a jug full of water and a glass, filling it up. Tapping him on the shoulder, he looks up, fatigue radiating deep within his irises before they morph into surprise.

He takes the glass hesitantly, muttering a small thank you before you turn your attention back to the front, watching all the guests take their places as the food gets served.

Save for the few occasional glances stemming from concern, you and Jungkook don’t say another word to each other for the rest of the duration.

***

The evening spins away – dinner is all served and more guests pool in. You occasionally smile, greeting new people and munching down on the contents placed in front of you.

Amongst all this, Aera is attached to Sunoo, a tender smile on her features as they deeply gaze into each other’s eyes and beam with so much sweet affection.

You grin when she calls for you to take a picture with the two to them, instantly leaving your table and trudging over. Looping your arm with Aera and standing opposite to Sunoo, all three of you smile as the photographer’s flash goes off.

“You two look really good together.” You comment and Aera giggles, eyes crinkling in the direction of her to-be-husband.

She leans closer to him, brushing his lips against hers for a kiss. Sunoo follows suit, clasping onto her hands.

They radiate the to-be-wed glow, encased in their own bubble of infectious love and happiness. It’s joyous for anyone to watch, to see two people be so utterly and completely in love with each other.

At least, that’s what you think.

As you turn to greet another one of Aera’s friends, you catch a flash of movement from the corner of your eyes.

You blink, but then there’s a tap against your shoulder.

“Y/N,” Aera asks, her head surveying around, “Do you know where Jungkook is?”

You swivel, mimicking her puzzlement. “I-I’m not sure…”

“That’s too bad, I wanted to take a picture with him.” Aera remarks and a frown lines your lips. You had just seen Jungkook sitting by the table by himself moments ago, but now he’s up and disappeared, just when the photographer had started taking photos.

You sigh, not understanding his train of thought.

Turning to Aera, you give her a quick reassured smile. “Focus on Sunoo, I’ll go find him for you.”

She breaks into a huge relieved grin and nods, returning to her husband’s side.

Spinning around, you walk in the opposite direction.

Your head darts back and forth.

You had entered into the side building, the one adjacent to the garden where the engagement party was being held. It’s empty save for the occasional workers or bystanders you pass, either trying to help set up or busy conversing with one another. However, you don’t find the head of dark hair and pair of doe eyes you’re trying to locate, simply left mulling if he had truly decided to leave.

That is, until there’s a black tie resting near the soles of your feet.

You pick it up in suspicion, instantly recognizing it as the same one Jungkook had donned when you had met him prior in the evening.

Peering around while gripping the tie, you wonder why it was so clumsily thrown onto the ground, as if he didn’t care about where it ended up–

The sound of retching startles you.

You glance around, wondering if you had imagined it. But then you hear it – a low choked sob, and your feet are gyrating, ears keenly picking up on the sound.

Your feet falter for a moment, having stopped right in front of the men’s bathroom.

Biting down your bottom lip, you cautiously push against the door, darting your pupils around.

It's completely empty, save for one stall in the far corner.

Your heels click against the ground, turning to face it. Noticing it slightly open, you raise your hand, preparing to knock and ask him if he was okay, if he has perhaps consumed too much alcohol than expected, or if he needed anything – infinite questions ready to tumble out of your lips.

But that’s when you feel a slight flutter against your foot.

Peering down curiously, you breath hitches and you nearly stumble back.

For there’s a fragrant and beautiful, bright yellow petal there.

Hand quivering, you lightly push against the door.

It opens, and your mouth falls agape at the sight.

Jungkook is on his knees, hunched over the toilet, completely surrounded by yellow flowers. His eyes are squeezed shut, shudders running through his body and tears pooling into his eyes. Despite being very tall, his frame looks small and cramped, sweat clinging to his temples.

You thought it was all fake, a disease so rare that it could be considered a myth. But the flowers spilling out from his coughing lips is enough to reel you back into reality, cementing that it was all true – all the puzzling pieces of information stemming from the rumors, all the hushed whispers of unrequited love.

You were wrong, so utterly wrong.

Your hands cover your mouth, voice only managing to come out in a shakingly whisper.

“O-Oh my god….”

Jungkook heaves as the last flower slips out, finally noticing your presence as his eyes snap back.

Your widened ones make contact with his half-lidded orbs, which expand into complete horror.

***

You don’t remember how long it took – how long you merely stood there, glancing at his horror stricken irises with a mix of terror and confusion in your own. You had watched as his eyes diverted away, a deep flush coating his skin as he had leaned back, gripping the edge of the wall for dear support.

“Tulips.” You had murmured, “Aera’s–”

“Favorite flower.” He croaks, a harsh rasp to his voice. His quivering hands reach out, attempting to scoop up the remaining flowers on the ground.

His pupils widened when your shaking ones reached out as well, gaze concentrated as you discard them into the toilet can. But he continues, ensuring each and every single petal had been collected before rising to his feet, wobbling a bit as he turns to flush the contents away for good.

You had quietly trailed out of the bathroom, walking behind his light footsteps.

A moment of silence overtakes you as you reach the opposite side of the building, far from where there are guests celebrating the new engagement. The fresh breeze weaves through your hair, nipping at your skin and offering a change of atmosphere.

Jungkook seems to like it as well, a content sigh leaving him as opposed to the profuse spilling of flowers inside a cramped stall he was experiencing just moments ago.

A thousand questions are ready to burst out from you, but amongst them is one that already has an answer.

“I-Is it…” You warily gaze at him, “...Aera?”

Jungkook visibly gulps, fear echoing deep in his doe irises. You’re startled when he snatches onto your wrist, grip tightening as his eyes desperately scan your expression.

“Please…” He inhales, “Please don’t tell her...”

You slowly nod, gaze still trained on him as his shoulders slump down, relief flooding his body.

Your voice drops into a whisper, “H-How long has this been going on…?”

Jungkook’s lip thin out, and his gaze is on the ground.

Sucking in a breath, he reveals the answer that has a harsh gasp escaping you.

“A year.”

“A year?!” You sharply repeat, “Jungkook, how are you still alive?”

Your coworker had been quietly suffering the effects for a whole entire year, delving within his own misery and attempting to live a normal life as the disease ate away at him.

He shakes his head, like he didn’t want your thoughts invading his mind, “Why haven’t you just gotten the surgery?”

“I-I can’t…” He whispers, brows furrowing.

“Why not?” You press forward, concern filling you to the brim, “The rumors say that hanahaki consumes the individual’s lungs within a year, leading their entire system to shut down–”

“Because I can’t, Y/N.” His words are louder and firmer, but there’s guilt swimming in his orbs. “I…I don’t want to forget her.”

Your lips pursue, knowing what the rumors had to say about the surgery. That along with all the flowers, each and every memory is taken, ripped out of the patient’s mind until they have no more recollection of the feelings, the love they had once felt for their person.

Which means Jungkook’s only other alternative would be for Aera to reciprocate his feelings.

Your stomach churns, guilt radiating out from you.

“She can’t love you back…” You whisper and Jungkook’s eyes snap up, brimming with despair.

“She’s engaged now, and I…I can't take it all away from her,” He hurriedly explains, voice shrinking down into an anguished whisper, “Not when I love her so much...”

“But…are you just going to let yourself die?”

He has no other option. The fonder his heart grows, so do the petals, spreading out within his airway until his breathing is completely constricted. Without the removal surgery or reciprocated feelings, he’s caged – left to fight the disease on his own until he ultimately succumbs to it, drawing out his last breath in the name of the same love.

Jungkook is silent, your words lingering within the empty space between you.

He continues to remain silent, but then his features twist and something snaps.

His eyes are glossed over, shoulders hunched as he chokes out a sob.

You’re startled, but you realize it then and there.

He knows he’s resigned to his fate and at this point, all he can do is receive the illness that’s marred his pathway with flowers.

You’re not very close to Jungkook, but it doesn’t hold you back from outstretching your arms, hands wrapping around his torso as the tears stream down his eyes, form violently trembling.

Aera’s eyes had sparked up when you returned with Jungkook following suit. You watch with dismay as he places a hand on her shoulder, a weak smile on his lips. Jungkook’s condition is obvious, there’s dark circles underneath his eyes, his skin pale and fatigue running deep in his shoulders. But he continues to pose for the photo, not ignoring Aera’s plea to take more with her husband.

Sunoo stands on the other side of them, sharing Aera’s tender smile when she glances at him. Jungkook’s lip twitches, smile slightly faltering.

As the evening draws to an end, your gaze is attached to Jungkook’s every movement, watching him turn on his heels and begin to take the various decorations down. All as Aera and Sunoo have their arms wrapped around each other, fondly staring down at the rings on their hands.

A bitter taste lingers on your lips.

It stays for a while – even as you’re knocking on Jungkook’s door the next day.

To be honest, you’re not sure what you're trying to accomplish. Jungkook and you were merely coworkers, bypassing each other occasionally or conversing through cubicles when work called for it.

But there’s a piece of you deep inside that can't help but feel awful. Awful that in a way you were the one to resign him to the fate of his disease with your own actions, pointing out to Aera that there was a guy you knew back in your college days together that would be her type, even helping out to get his number for her.

Conversely, even though you weren't aware of Jungkook’s existence in her life, the image of him hunched over, trembling as the flowers endlessly poured around and circled his sobbing form, is hauntingly ingrained inside your mind, a deep chill running through your spine anytime the memory plays.

The door swings open, revealing a started Jungkook.

Knowing what you know now, makes it hard to look at him. He still looks exhausted, the deep circles underneath his eyes ever most present and his skin drained of life. You suspect he’s even lost weight from the last handful of times you’ve seen him at work, the disease taking its sweet time to slowly break him down, bit by bit, till his lungs are full and bursting with flowers.

“W-What are you doing here?”

You take in a deep breath, “You’re off from work, right? To be here for the wedding.”

Aera’s wedding is closer to the end of the month, set seven days after the engagement.

Seven days left until hanahaki runs its full course of a year, the victim falling prey to its effects and their lungs being forever constricted.

He slowly nods, “I thought we could go out, do something aside from wedding preparations.”

Jungkook goes silent and you gnaw on your bottom lip. You knew that the wedding plans were still going on, that Aera would need assistance from the two of you, but you know he’s spending all this time helping the very person he loves, without ever getting to be with her.

You wonder if he’ll protest, if he’ll remark that she needs him and that he needs her, that there’s no way he can halt the planning process for his own needs.

But Jungkook heavily exhales, and you wonder if he can see the pity in your eyes.

“Okay.” He simply utters, much to your surprise. He widens the door, letting you in before swiveling, attempting to look for his jacket.

You stand rather awkwardly by the front of his apartment, pleasantly surprised to find the black and white layout of the place, with everything appearing meticulously organized. It’s almost too clean, not a speck of dirt in sight.

However, the layout seems too simplistic, the black and white not contrasting well with the sunlight that tries to pour in, appearing more bleak and empty for your own liking.

It feels lonely.

You press your lips together, a grimace running through you. How long has he been quietly suffering by himself, keeping distance from others? The Jungkook you know wouldn’t even attend events or go out for drinks with everyone else post-work, but now he’s submerged within guests everyday and next to the person he loves, suppressing flowers from spewing out.

Jungkook emerges soon, throwing on a black jacket. Stepping outside with you, he lets out a sharp cough, rubbing his throat with a wince.

“Where to?” He ponders, looking at you with his big doe eyes.

You shrug, “Coffee?”

He nods, and you lead him to the local coffee shop you’ve frequented a couple of times after work, one that’s more closed in and has cozy booths. It isn't popular by any means, only a few individuals occupying the seats, but it’s something you notice Jungkook relishes in from the corner of your eyes, form visibly easing from the low amount of prying looks.

You order your drinks, asking Jungkook what he wanted and he simply murmurs that anything was okay. Within minutes, two lattes are handed to you and you join him by the booth he’s seated at, a deep frown marring your lips.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, and you wince, pushing the drink closer to him.

“Sorry…I didn’t realize this cafe also did coffee art.”

Jungkook's eyes are wide as the drink comes in front of him, a foamy little white heart greeting his line of vision.

The corner of his mouth curls up.

“It’s okay.” He remarks, “I think it’s rather cute.”

You look at him in surprise, but he’s already bringing the drink up to his lips, cautiously taking a sip from the heated mixture.

The words blurt out before you can stop them.

“I’m really sorry.”

He halts, placing the drink down. “Y/N, I said it was okay–”

“No, not that.” You harshly swallow, “I-I’m sorry…about Aera…”

He stares at you perplexed and you explain, “I was the one to bring her and Sunoo together. I knew both of them and thought they would work well as a couple.”

Your eyes flutter shut, biting down on your lip, “If only I had known about your relationship with her, I could have–”

“Y/N.” He stops your train of thought, hand brushing against yours. You immediately stare down at it, and he notices, sheepishly removing it in an instant as his complexion dusts pink.

He clears his throat, “Don’t apologize. Me and Aera…we were never meant to be, even if you stepped in.”

You stare at him, “We were friends for years…and even as I came to realize my feelings recently, Aera never once felt the same for me, no matter what I did.” He chuckles bitterly, “I was always Jungkook, her childhood friend, and nothing more.”

Anguish spreads over his features and your heart sinks. You can imagine a younger Jungkook, gaze filled with adoration and affection for the girl, desperately seeking for something, anything to be similarly reflected in her own eyes.

Remorse flickers over you, “But I can imagine Sunoo’s sudden appearance wasn’t all that great for you...”

Jungkook’s gaze falls down, a soft yet wistful smile on his lips. “It confirmed a lot for me, mainly that this disease was going to turn out to be more permanent than I had initially assumed.”

You bite back your words, wanting to tell him that it isn’t just permanent, that the disease would reside with him until he finally succumbs to it.

But you can’t bring yourself to, not when there’s so much hurt swirling in his eyes, the disease already physically manifesting itself against his own wishes.

At his silence, you sit up straighter, desperate to change the topic of conversation you had to spring up.

“What do you do outside of work?” You question, “Do you have any hobbies or anything?”

Anything you do to cope? – you can only silently wonder.

Your questions catches him off guard. “Not really…” He deeply ponders, “At the most, I’ve been just working…and of course, helping Aera when I had time off.”

You nod, features twisting. But then his eyes light up.

“Sometimes I like to game.”

“Game?” You blink and he slowly nods, sipping down on his latte. “I could have never taken you for a gamer.”

Something you wouldn’t have expected from the quiet man who would bump shoulders with you at work.

“It’s fun, I like playing games online.” He states, “It helps not having to worry about…”

His face sours as he gestures to himself and you quickly nod, not wanting him the chance to fill in the blanks.

“Maybe you could show me sometime.” You suggest, and he looks at you surprised. To be fair, you don’t know the first thing about online gaming, but watching Jungkook’s expression change, having some spark of joy, is too much for you to miss out on.

A soft smile lines his lips. “Sure.”

You mimic his smile, bringing the remains of the latte to your lips.

Aera is to be married soon, Jungkook knows that.

As such, he’s aware that moments with her are consistent, that she gazes into his eyes with a wide smile regularly, making his heart skip far too many beats.

But what he is pleasantly unaware of is just how involved you are, unabashedly seeking him out when you need assistance with picking up favors for the wedding.

“There should be at least a hundred candles wrapped with thank you notes,” You mumble, brows furrowed together as you read the text off your phone. The sun is bright and shining down, a light breeze lingering in the air that truthfully makes his chest feel lighter.

You glance up, confused eyes connecting with his wide ones. “I can’t open them to check, right?”

He shakes his head, “I don’t think so.”

“But then how do I know they made them properly?” You gesture towards the box resting before his feet in exasperation.

Letting out a huff, you shake your head. “I swear, this whole wedding business is so much more complicated than it really needs to be.”

A light chuckle resonates through the air and you stare at Jungkook in astonishment, watching at how the corners of his eyes crinkle.

“Believe me, I know.” He chides, leaning down to pick up the box. “I’ve been helping to plan this wedding for months.”

“For months?” You question in puzzlement, reaching out to help him balance it. However, he pushes your hands away, gesturing for you to let him carry it.

You frown, but oblige when he starts to walk. “That must have been so stressful. I’ve been only helping out for the last couple of weeks and it’s already making me want to rip my hair out.”

The corners of his lips tugs up and you continue, the words escaping you before you can stop. “Why would you go to such lengths?”

You freeze in an instant, already knowing the reason as to why.

“–Sorry,” You quickly retract, “I-I didn’t mean it like that…”

Jungkook shakes his head, almost feeling something akin to amusement.

His condition is supposed to be a secret, a taboo of a disease and something he’s never uttered a single word to another soul. He supposes that you’re different, that you weren’t someone he told out of his own volition, but rather someone that stumbled upon it.

Which gives him no reason to hide from you. That, and the fact that you’re so mindful about his potential reactions.

“Don’t worry about it.” He simply says, but picks up on the curiosity swirling within your orbs.

“If I can ask…how difficult has it been? Planning all this and dealing with…”

You wave your finger into the air, letting the sentence complete itself and it makes him want to smile.

“It’s kind of hard to explain…” He murmurs, falling deep into thought, “I know Aera doesn’t love me, but I still want to see her happy, you know?”

A low chuckle leaves him, gaze downcasting. “I guess that makes me sound really stupid.”

“No, not at all.” You justify, “You’re right, it’s hard to explain and even harder for someone like me to understand, but you’ve known Aera for so long, and I can imagine that you care a lot about her…”

– and that your love runs deeper than you probably would have imagined – you silently think.

He hums, glancing around as you cross the street together, your eyes focusing onto his backside.

After a moment of contemplation, you speak up.

“You know, I really hope I’m not causing you any trouble.” You explain, “I know talking about it can be–”

“It’s okay.” He replies, “I don’t mind, you’re…really easy to talk to.

You’re surprised by the soft smile he holds while glancing in your direction, but it’s one that you don’t hesitate to return.

A bright yellow flower lands right in front of your face.

You and Jungkook both jolt, the elderly woman in front of you holding a wide grin. It’s only then you realize that you’re near a boutique, selling flowers to those passing by.

“These beautiful tulips are fresh,” She states, attempting to play matchmaker as both you and Jungkook flush, “It’s said they represent unconditional love.”

You blink, the scent of the flowers being shoved right into your faces. Jungkook stills, holding in his breath as his form slightly trembles.

You clear your throat immediately, pushing them away.

“We’re okay.” You take a step back, “I’m allergic to flowers.”

She grimaces, realization donning upon her that neither of you meant business. You don’t think twice, grabbing Jungkook's wrist and whisking him away from the deeply fragrant area.

It’s only when you walk a good handful of steps away that Jungkook tugs on you, a sheepish look on his features that has your confused eyes widening.

You let go of him, “Sorry.”

He softly shakes his head. “It’s okay.”

His head turns, gaze concentrated on the store from a distance.

The next question leaving his lips has you taken aback, “What’s your favorite flower, Y/N?”

You deeply mull over it, drawing a blank. “I-I can’t say I have one….”

He ponders over it and your eyes flicker over to him, “What about you?”

“Ah–” He lightly laughs, scratching the back of his neck. Your eyes widen when he places the box down and takes hold of his sleeve, rolling it back a few inches.

An array of images greet you immediately, but among them is a giant orangish-red flower carved into his forearm.

“It’s my birth flower.” He informs.

You stare at it in pure awe and wonder, the ink swirling his skin beautifully.

Your voice comes out in a whisper, “What is it called?”

“The tiger flower.”

You hum, still looking at it in fascination. “Wow…it’s amazing.”

Jungkook silently watches, oddly feeling exposed for suddenly revealing an important piece of himself to you. But as he notices your irises brightening and lips curving up, he can’t help but warmly smile, his chest swelling with pride underneath your observations.

Ending up at Jungkook’s apartment becomes a staple for you.

You don’t know how or when, but through figuring out the delivery for the cake to ensuring you had enough tables for the RSVP'd guests, your messages to Jungkook would occasionally stray over to pondering over how he was doing. His responses always ended in simple reassurances, much to your own dismay, but then he would stray too, bringing up that if you ever felt like coming over again, you could.

At first, you didn’t want to be rude by declining, but then it became to the point where Jungkook expects you, swinging open to his door non-chantlently.

“Did you eat yet?”

Entering inside, you shake your head and he turns, heading into his kitchen. You glance around, ultimately deciding to sit on his couch.

There’s a table right next to it, a handful of picture frames that have your heart twisting.

They stand out in the midst of his bleak apartment, having an odd touch of hearth to them. There’s different age ranges – roughly around ages nine, twelve, fifteen – all of Aera and Jungkook together. There’s ones of them as small children, bright eyed with huge smiles, to ones where they’re a bit older, smiles turning warm and eyes tender. You muse at how adorable Jungkook looked when he was younger, a light to his crinkled eyes that you don’t really see much anymore.

His footsteps pad into the room, two bowls of instant ramen in his hands. You swivel around and his eyes catch the movement, but if anything he’s learned, it’s that you’re naturally very curious, surprise not even crossing him.

“We can go to my room,” He gestures to the doorway across the hall, “I already have my computer set up.”

You frown, rising from your seat and following behind him. The room is dark, all the lights turned off save for some sunlight peeking through his black drapes, and you’re astonished to find his room just as organized as the rest of his apartment.

Off to the side, there’s a bright lit screen alongside a keyboard that glows different colors.

“Woah.” You mutter and Jungkook hands you your instant ramen, before sitting on the large gaming chair and pulling a seat up for you.

You slurp on your noodles as the game loads. Once it does, his hand revolves around the settings for a moment before he dives into action, his fingertips tapping at an incredible speed across the keyboard and mouse furiously clicking. He seems completely zoned into the game, almost like he had forgotten where he was for a moment.

Nonetheless, you watch with wide eyes as he effortlessly wins the first round, hands coming around to search for his own ramen. He continues to keep playing, pupils never once leaving the monitor and you’re fascinated with how well he’s able to multitask.

His eyes connect with yours, a grin surfacing on his lips. “Want to try?”

Unease fills you, “I don’t know, I’m not the greatest with games–”

“You’ll be fine.” He insists and you nervously nod, giving into his wishes. He gently guides your hand over the mouse, watching you attempting to shoot things with terrible coordination.

It’s when you accidentally shoot someone that was trying to heal you that Jungkook bursts into laughter, a beautiful melodious tone that echoes off the walls.

“I told you I’m terrible!” You protest with a pout, and his laughter still bubbles as he moves behind you.

“Here, let me show you.” His hand laces over yours, effortlessly navigating your character.

You smile at the assistance, watching him cross all the hurdles and play infinitely better in comparison.

You turn to remark about it, but the words die in your throat.

His face is inches away from you, something he notices right away too. Neither of you move, the sounds coming from the game lingering in the background.

Jungkook shifts and you instantly move, your hand hitting your container of noodles.

It spills onto the ground and you immediately get up, clearing your throat.

“I-I’ll go get something to clean it up.” Jungkook simply nods, watching your backside disappear.

You head straight into his kitchen, pressing a hand against your racing heart. Deeply inhaling and exhaling, you glance around for a cloth, locating it on the edge of the counter immediately and turning back.

The doorbell rings.

You blink, hearing the loud sounds of the game coming from Jungkook’s room and wondering if you had imagined it. But then it rings again and you scramble forward, grasping onto the knob.

The sight before you shock you to your core.

Aera stands in front of you, arms crossed and her orbs tinged with cracks of red. They widen at the appearance of you, the shock scattering over her features reflecting your own.

“Y/N?”

“Aera?” You blurt out, wondering what she was doing here.

Her grand wedding is supposed to be in three days, and here she was.

Jungkook’s voice cuts through, “Y/N? Is everything oka–”

You hear his footsteps pad through the apartment before his breath hitches. Aera steps right in at the sight of him, walking straight past you and throwing her arms around his torso.

She sobs loudly and Jungkook’s pupils quiver, making direct eye contact with your confused ones, before awkwardly wrapping his arms around her.

There’s a painful tinge in the center of your chest, but you ignore it.

“S-Sunoo–” Aera sputters out, clutching onto Jungkook tighter. “S-Sunoo and I….we had a fight!”

Jungkook can barely muster out any words, harshly swallowing. Your eyes widen at the reaction, and it’s not long before a cough leaves his lips.

You step forward, placing your hand on her back. “Aera, how about we take this outside?”

Her head tilts, like she had just noticed you’re also in the room.

At her silence, you slowly peel her hands off of Jungkook, who quickly scurries away into the confines of his room.

Aera’s taken aback with response, but nonetheless follows you like a lost puppy.

The moment you’re outside the apartment, she spills. “We ended up fighting, Y/N! Can you imagine?!”

She sobs more, eyes connecting with the door behind you.

“Why won’t Jungkook come out?”

“He’s…not feeling the best.” You wince, unable to come up with a better answer. “You know, you should check in on him every now and then.”

Images of the splattered flowers echo through your mind.

“What’s there to check?” She chuckles, sniffling and wiping her tears, “Jungkook’s always fine.”

Your chest tightens, something unfamiliar brewing.

“No one’s ever always fine.” You grit.

Even if his symptoms weren’t so painfully obvious, there was no way to simply dismiss it all as something mere like work fatigue.

Aera eyes you, baffled by your tone, “Since when have the two of you gotten close?”

You open your mouth a couple of times – unable to muster the exact words for an answer. However, you relent, shaking it away and opting to ask her about Sunoo instead, to which she gladly focuses on.

***

You spend a considerable amount of time coaxing Aera that Sunoo still loved her and that being stressed about wedding planning was completely normal.

She cries continuously and you pat her back, sprouting as much reassurance as you can all while bypassing any of her further inquiries about Jungkook. It seems to help, because soon she’s nodding in agreement as the tears within her eyes begin to dry.

She departs and you manage to head back into the apartment, exhausted beyond belief.

But Jungkook lingers in your mind.

You bolt into his room, heading directly into the connecting bathroom. The door whips open, and your heart clenches at the sight before you.

There’s bright yellow tulips. Everywhere. And Jungkook is in the middle of them, form slouched against the wall with his eyes squeezed shut and sweat sticking to his temples.

You immediately crouch down, placing his weak arm around your neck and helping him to his feet. When he sways, you let him lean his weight against you.

Sitting him down onto his bed, you withdraw into the kitchen to fetch him a glass of water. Reentering the bedroom, his gaze is downcasted and you silently hand him the drink, watching his fingertips curl around the cup.

You then walk back into the bathroom, taking every piece of petal that’s been scattered and throwing it into the toilet can. You flush it down the drain as Jungkook sips on the water, quietly watching you from afar.

You sit down next to him with a deep sigh, silence overtaking the dark room.

A shuddering breath leaves him.

“I started to forget…” He croaks, grasping your attention immediately, “I actually managed to forget about everything for once. The engagement, the wedding, her…”

You remorsefully watch as his eyes flutter shut, noticing the single tear that rolls down his cheek. It propels you to shift forward, wrapping your arms around him comfortingly.

He leans into your touch, head resting on your shoulder and his arm curling around your waist.

There’s a thought that lingers in the back of your mind, seemingly growing louder and louder with every passing minute.

“You know…” He lets out a low hum and you continue, willing all your courage together. “I ended up thinking about a third alternative in curing you.”

Within a heartbeat, he mumbles – “What was it?”

Sucking in a sharp inhale, you let it out.

“For you to fall in love…with someone else.”

His breath hitches, form stiffening underneath your fingertips. You part from him and he slowly raises his head, staring at you impassively.

You fidget underneath his gaze, unable to read his thoughts.

After what feels like an eternity, you slowly pull yourself away from him. It was wrong of you to bring it up and you want to curse yourself for thinking otherwise.

Shuffling your feet, you stand up.

Jungkook’s hand clasps onto yours, tugging you towards him in an instant. Your eyes morph with surprise, but then his lips collide with yours.

It steals your breath away, warmth flooding through you and making you melt at his touch. He tentatively moves against you, lips softly brushing against your own.

He pulls back for a split second, chest rising and falling. But you lean forward, pressing your lips against his once again.

And that’s all it takes to drown.

Jungkook litters kisses all down your jaw and neck, and you find yourself stumbling backwards, back hitting his mattress. It’s only a matter of a few moments before his torso is hovering over you, and you reach up, clutching onto his shoulders.

Your clothes scatter across the room and Jungkook’s bare chest presses against you. He marks your skin in the shape of his lips, all while his name profusely tumbles out of your own. He pushes into you, gently at first, like he has something to prove. You accept him fully, nails sinking into his back as you both climax, an onslaught of gasps and moans escaping the two of you.

His arm wraps securely around your waist, and you're lulled into a deep sleep.

You’re woken to the sound of retching.

A gasp parts from your lips, and you immediately scramble up from the bed, dressed in only the shirt Jungkook had been wearing the night before. You stumble into the bathroom, finding Jungkook hunched over and surrounded with the yellow flowers once again.

However, your breath hitches.

Because this time there’s more of them, and they're all splattered with drops of scarlet.

“Jungkook!” You exclaim, knees buckling down. Placing your hand on his shaking back, you rub it up and down comfortingly.

“I-I was starting to feel b-better…” He chokes out in defeat, hands clutching onto the toilet. A cluster of coughs leave him, his voice disappearing as more and more red stained flowers overflow out.

You attempt to coax him, features twisted from watching him be contorted in so much pain. “It’s okay, Jungkook.” Your hold on him is firm, “We’ll figure it out, don’t worry, we’ll–”

“Y-You don’t understand….” He cries out, "I-I can't, Y/N…."

A deep furrow in your brows form and Jungkook shakes his head, eyes shut as his forehead lulls down, “I-I can’t do this anymore….I-I’m still in love with her."

It feels like someone’s just stabbed you in the heart.

Jungkook doesn’t look at you, entangled in too much shame and agony to dare raise his head and say the same words with your eyes meeting his. The same pair of eyes that discovered him one day and reached out, not letting him stumble on his own anymore.

Orbs glossing over, you rise with shaky legs. The feeling in the pit of your chest twists and knots, spreading through you like a deep ache.

Jungkook can’t say anything, not even at the sound of you grabbing your clothes, the unevenness of your footsteps against his carpet, or the door shutting on your way out from his apartment, the frequency echoing off the walls. His gaze remains fixated on the flowers, even plucking one completely smeared in red, wondering why fate was always so cruel to him – why, in his mind when he’s smiling and laughing with you, Aera’s warm eyes and big smile show up there instead, forever imprinted into his brain.

***

You stagger on your way home.

A stream of hot tears roll down your face, with harsh breaths shuddering out of you. Your sobs are thundering and violent, racking through your entire form.

There’s a thousand emotions running through you, leaving your mind completely numb and your body feeling like it’s breaking, scattering into pieces. You wonder how you could have let it gotten to this point, wonder how you could have been so foolish.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you soon arrive at your apartment complex. You can barely unlock the front door, gasping as you stumble in.

You fall right at the entrance, clawing your hands around your throat, eyes rapidly darting and flickering everywhere. The pain accelerates, winding tortuously over and over around your windpipe.

The cord snaps.

A sharp chain of coughs leaves your lips, vibrating down your throat and through your lungs. It morphs into a retch and the contents come spilling forth before you can even blink.

Deeply heaving, you can only stare helplessly at the clutter of bright orangish-red tiger flowers before you.

Love is twisted.

It threatens to find you unexpectedly, spontaneously making you crumble within seconds. It’s a spur of the moment, welcoming in painful affection. Love at first sight, that withers into petals of grief. Or simply an unexpected encounter, getting spun into something that turns your entire world upside down.

It develops, it grows. It becomes so much more, rendering you weak and constricting your breathing, just as the mere thought of it makes you feel sick.

Until of course, it becomes long term, a trail of flowers never leaving your side.

You don’t see Jungkook for the remaining days until the wedding, avoiding him like the plague. He doesn’t reach out, keeping to himself like he’s always done.

However, running into him at the wedding now, is a completely different story.

He’s dressed in a sleek fitted black suit, his hair styled and pushed back. He’s working alongside the caterer, a crease in between his brows as he ensures the food arrives in a timely manner.

You had just entered the venue, eyes scanning around for any indication of where Aera might be.

As cruel as fate would be, your eyes suddenly find his.

You attempt to look away, but it only takes three steps for Jungkook to be right in front of you.

He looks the same, his skin pale and dark circles still underneath his eyes, tiredness running deep through him.

He opens and closes his mouth several times, before quietly asking a question that has you nearly coughing.

“Are…are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” Your voice comes out croaked, immediately taking a step back from him. He catches the movement and you notice it right away – the way his eyes scan all over your face.

You wonder if he can see the fatigue in your shoulders, wonder if he can see the bags starting to form under your eyes, or how pale you seem to have gotten. Wonder if he knows you were throwing up just this morning, mind swirling with thoughts of him and lungs brimming with flowers, unable to loosen the imprint he’s left.

“Are you sure? I–” He reaches out and you flinch, but then a call of your name has you spinning around.

“Aera has been looking for you two.” A woman you instantly recognize as her mother, informs. You nod, ignoring the pleading look in Jungkook’s eyes that just makes your lungs constrict.

After all, you were here for someone else entirely.

But when you and Jungkook follow her into a side room to see Aera completely decked out in a lavious white wedding dress, you can only harshly swallow.

“Y-You look amazing.” You sputter out, and she has a huge, radiant smile.

“Isn’t it lovely?” She chuckles, “I can’t wait until you get married and wear one too, Y/N!”

You know she means well, but your lips are pursued together, not a single word slipping out as you numbingly nod.

She turns to Jungkook, her smile widening, “What do you think, Kookie?”

It catches Jungkook off guard, his gaze previously on you.

A small smile laces on his lips and he answers her genuinely.

“It’s lovely on you, Aera. You look very beautiful.”

She giggles, looping her arm around his.

But you can see everything.

Jungkook’s eyes are tender and warm, fondness radiating out from every fiber of his body. He holds her gently, as if treasuring her was his uttermost priority.

Your breath hitches, a wave of nausea hitting you. There’s nothing you can mutter except a quiet ‘excuse me’ as you’re racing out of the room, hand clamping against your mouth and feet hurriedly filtering through the venue.

You don’t even find a bathroom, yanking open the door to a staff closet before you stumble down, tiger flowers bursting out of your lips. Water builds up in your eyes, hand clutching onto your chest as the retching continues, a deep burn being left behind.

It’s when the flowers slow down, decreasing in volume that you manage to swipe some of the sweat trailing down your temples. Your vision finally focuses through all the tears, small coughs still trembling through your windpipe.

A small gasp behind you has you freezing.

Your half-lidded eyes snap back, finding Jungkook's paralyzed ones. A hand is covering his mouth, his voice quivering.

“Oh my god….”

You don’t have the strength to will your voice to work, barely able to breath in and out with your congested airflow. Jungkook falls to his knees, eyes scanning all over the flowers before flickering up to you.

“You–” He begins, form frantic. “In here…the f-flowers….”

His hand plucks up on the tiger flower, perfectly matching the ink on his skin.

He lets go of the flower and it flutters down to you. His lips move, horror transfixed in his eyes as the realization dawns onto him, hitting him all at once.

“I-I broke you….”

You sniffle, arm coming up to swipe away the tears that have collected in your eyes. But Jungkook is faster, the pads of his thumbs immediately coming up to cup your face, gently brushing them away.

You look up, gaze locked onto his. And you can see everything.

He understands – his pain reflecting yours.

“Jungkook!” He sucks in a breath, head swiveling around to a voice echoing out from the closet. “Where have you been? Everyone’s already taken their seats.”

“I-I’ll be right there.” He turns to you, but you’re already scooping the flowers up, tucking them into a bag that you found nearby. Jungkook silently joins you, helping you until the closet is completely clear of any trace of them.

You leave before him, not exchanging one word.

The wedding commences.

You have taken your seat at the front, having a full display of the event right before you. Jungkook sits a row behind you, and you’re grateful at not having to be so close to him for the long duration.

Because as much as you can acknowledge the shared pain you hold – you know that the existence for Jungkook's is why you’re gathered here today, and you know that yours is just sitting a row away.

He will never love you like you do him. Aera will never love him like he does her.

The ceremony begins and you look up, gazing at the couple you’ve come to see tie the knot. The marriage officiant speaks up, going through each and every piece of what will bring them together. Your eyes are focused, but ever so and then, they furrow at Aera.

Not because of envy, but rather, it’s like her eyes are wavering, prodding around in the audience instead.

What is she doing?

You wonder, only seeing her glance at Sunoo a couple of times or breaking out of her daze to repeat the officiant words.

It’s almost like she’s focused on–

Your eyes trail, following her field of vision until it lands straight on Jungkook. And you’re even more caught off guard when you find out where his gaze is directed.

He’s looking at you, eyes not wavering even when you catch him.

You flush at the realization, quickly averting your eyes to focus back onto the couple. Thankfully, it soon draws to an end and the officiant wraps up the ceremony.

“You may now kiss the bride.” Sunoo leans in and Aera smiles, as does the officiant.

He pronounces them as husband and wife and a big cheer erupts from the guests. Everyone claps – including you and the couple descends down, interacting with those that have attended their wedding.

You take up the opportunity to depart, desperately needing some fresh air and Jungkook catches onto the action.

“Jungkook!” Aera exclaims, leaving Sunoo’s side and looping her arm around his, “Come on! I want a pictur–”

“Not now, Aera.” He winces with an apologetic smile, feet headed after the direction you’ve left in. Aera watches in complete disbelief, not even hearing Sunoo call out her name.

His steps are quickened, eyes darting back and forth. He bumps into a couple of guests on the way out, simply giving them a quick smile before he resumes trudging against the tiled floor.

His heart is racing, so much to the point where it feels like it might burst.

Within minutes, he finds your backside on a bench outside near the venue, shoulders hunched and making your form appear smaller than ever.

“Y/N?” He breathes out, slowly walking towards you.

“J-Jungkook?” You swivel, startled that he had followed you out here.

He stands in front of you, kneeling down. The eye contact makes you flinch, an uncomfortable sensation churning in your chest the longer he looks at you.

But before you can run away, before you can even search for a place to empty out the flowers threatening to spill from your throat, he leans forward.

He leans forward, and his lips collide with your own.

You softly gasp, heat brushing on your cheeks. It feels just like the first time you shared a kiss with him, warmth flooding through you.

Your trembling hands reach out, tugging him closer.

He places his own on top of yours, holding them as lips moving fervently against yours.

You feel it all – the delicate flowers blooming within your chest, the hues of orangish-red coloring your windpipe, the itch to push him away spiking more than ever.

But you part from him with a different reason altogether.

A sharp breath escapes you, airflow flooding into your lungs. It feels easier to inhale and exhale, no longer feeling like there was something constricting and blocking your windpipe.

As your chest rises and falls sporadically, you stare at Jungkook in astonishment. He mimics the expression you hold, a twinkle beginning to spark in his eyes.

Almost as if he were experiencing the same thing.

“I-I can–”

“Breathe?” He completes with a smile and you slowly nod, tears slipping out of your eyes.

Jungkook wraps his arms around you comfortingly, his own eyes glossing over as you tremble. The pads of his thumbs come up to cup your face, gently brushing your tears away.

He rises to his feet, reaching his hand out. You take it within a heartbeat, sniffling as he walks back into the venue with you.

Your tender gazes occasionally meet, with soft smiles being exchanged.

A sharp scream pierces through the air.

The two of you whirl around in an instant, noticing Aera's mother stepping out of the room in the frenzy.

“What happened?” You immediately ask, watching the woman’s shake her head frantically.

She doesn’t answer you, too caught up in her own thoughts, “Oh, it’s terrible, so, so terrible–”

You frown, but Jungkook tugs on you, eyes staring straight into the room that she had left.

Stepping next to him, your eyes transfixed into horror.

Aera stands in the middle of the room, with Sunoo by her side – a plethora of tiger flowers and tulips surrounding the two of them.

#jungkook fanfic #bts jungkook fanfic #jungkook angst #jungkook hanahaki au #jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #bts jungkook hanahaki au #bts jungkook angst #bts jungkook fluff #bts jungkook smut #bts fanfic #bts fluff #bts angst #bts smut #bts hanahaki au #bts imagines #bts scenarios #jungkook x reader

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suzukiblu · 9 months

Text

unpublished ficbit for @kuugetsu, Starfire edition:

"We need to talk," Roy says while standing in the middle of a kill floor with a trick arrow nocked and a stranger's blood all over his face. Jason wants to kiss him. Or kill him. Or maybe do both of those things at once? Maybe? But like–biohazards. "Like, about our feelings. Specifically the specific feelings that I am specifically having about the two of you and your specific feelings."

"Oh!" Kori says with a bright smile as she lights up with both visible delight and destructive solar radiation. She is also very kiss/kill-able right now, Jason thinks, though the radiation thing could also be an issue. "Well, my specific feelings are that you and I should mate our lovely Jason at his earliest possible convenience and then consummate said mating under the stars. Repeatedly. I have researched the appropriate Earth customs, so do you think Lian would rather be the flower-bearer or the ring-girl?"

"I'm going back to Gotham," Jason blurts in panicked self-defense.

"Is that an invitation or an escape route?" Roy asks, raising an eyebrow at him.

"I'm going back to Gotham right now," Jason says, which he understands is not an actual answer but is still not going to clarify any more than that. Then he flees the kill floor. He flees the kill floor very, very quickly.

Repression box time.

So yeah, Jason ditches them both in Prague and heads back to Gotham the long way. He doesn't answer when Roy tries calling his burner, though he does text their very small group chat a vague confirmation that he isn't dead again yet a day or three later. Kori immediately sexts him in response, but he's pretty sure that she just still thinks that's how texting works.

Look, he hasn't corrected the misassumption.

#joyfire #red hood and the outlaws #koriand'r #jason todd #roy harper #starfire #red hood #red arrow #rinfic #a/b/o #kuugetsu #wip: jason goes home

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ilyasorokinn · 1 year

Text

where you lead i will follow , mat barzal

note, hello! here is it! my summer 2023 fic exchange! thank you to @wyattjohnston for putting together another amazing exchange! you are so slay! this fic is for @prettytoxicrevolver! i hope this is as slay as you hoped for and i hope you enjoy! so, i love gilmore girls too, and have a fic inspired by luke and lorelai coming soon, so i instead went with jess and rory because i am a jess girl. if you aren't, argue to a wall cause i don't care. this is loosely based on their relationship, this isn't them. just wanted to clarify. another note, sorry there are a lot of time jumps just cause i'm lazy, but i promise this is still very slay. pair, mat barzal x reader summary, mat barzal is new to town, sort of. a town he didn't want to be in. after not so good press towards the end of the season in new york, during the off-season, the team decides to send him to ivory lake, a small town where his uncle lives, just until everything dies down. the first night he's there, his uncle forces him to go dinner at his not-girlfriend's house. there, he meet's her daughter, and he realizes he has more in common with her than he thinks. warnings, none :) word count, 5175 words (this is longer than i expected lol)

(gif not mine)

As soon as Mat stepped out of the taxi, he knew he would rather be anywhere else, "Mat." His uncle Milo greeted him stiffly as he stepped off the bus.

"Milo." Mat greeted, a flat expression on his face.

"You can call me Uncle Milo, you know." Milo attempted.

"Right." Mat nodded, making his way to the back of the taxi and grabbing all his bags.

"Well, let's get you home." Milo capped his hands and grabbed one of Mat's bags and leading him towards his apartment. Milo set Mat's bags down in the room he had designated as Mat's, "All right, well you get unpacked. My friend Lauren invited us over for dinner tonight."

"And you're telling me why?"

Milo sighed, "Because you're coming along, and you can't say no." Mat sighed, "Oh, and by the way, no one knows who you are here."

"They don't?" Mat asked.

"I don't think anyone in Ivory watches hockey." Milo chuckled, "Anyways, your secret is safe with me." Milo reassured him, then walked down the hall, leaving Mat alone in his new room in a town he didn't know anything about full of people who had no idea who he was or why he was there.

Milo and Mat stood on the Y/L/N doorstep. Milo looked over at Mat, and reached over, fixing his hair, "What the hell, man?" Mat snapped, swatting his hands away.

"Did you even brush your hair?"

"I did, actually."

They both turned to the door when it swung open. Your mom, Lauren, greeted them both with a warm smile, "You must be Mat." Your mom smiled.

"Mat I am." He nodded.

"Huh, he's funny too." Lauren nodded, raising a brow, "Well, come in. Dinner's almost ready." She stepped aside so they could enter.

Mat walked into your small apartment, his eyes going around every corner and looking at every photo on the wall. It was all of you and your mom, most when you were younger but there were a couple that were newer because you both looked a little older.

"Y/N, our guests are here." Your mom hollered down the hallway. You came down the hallway, fixing your necklace.

You smiled, "You must be Mat."

"Yeah." He nodded, moving behind you to get a better look at the racks of CDs you had. You frowned, "These yours?"

"Yeah." You nodded, mirroring his previous actions.

"Wow, The Cranberries and The Jonas Brothers." He nodded, picking up the two very different CDs.

"It's called taste." You grabbed them and set them back in their spots.

"Nah, I'm not judging. I like a girl who can do both." He smirked, picking up another CD and reading the back.

"You listen to music much?" You asked, crossing your arms.

"A little." He shrugged.

"You can borrow that." You told him.

"I'm good." He shrugged.

"Hey, you two, dinner's ready." Your mom popped her head out of the kitchen and into the living room where you two were.

A couple days later, Mat was getting accustomed to life in wherever he was. He didn't know what it was called and he didn't care to know. He had picked up a small cup of ice cream and was walking down the street, heading back to Milo's apartment when he saw you leaving the music store.

You looked up as he approached you," Hey, Mat." You smiled, "How are you liking it here in Ivory?"

"It's small."

"Small."

"Much smaller than where I'm from." He admitted.

"Right." You nodded, narrowing your eyes before clearing your throat, "I should get going. I'll see you around though."

"Wait, I have something for you." He pulled out the CD he had been eying a few days ago.

"Oh, wow, you didn't have to buy it, I offered it to you."

"I know. This is your's." You were stunned.

"Right." You nodded, taking it back from him.

"See you around, Y/N."

"Yeah." You stood in your spot, stunned.

A few days later, all you could think about was Mat. The interaction a few days ago, albeit short, was still on your mind. You were... confused to say the least. He was cold the first time you met, but the second time, things felt different.

"...Now, I don't know if you have anything going on two weeks from Friday, but I sort of signed us up for a dance class." Your mom told you, snapping you out of your daze.

"Dance class?" You asked.

"Yeah."

"Why did you sign us up for a dance class? You can barely tell your right from your left and have awful hand/eye coordination."

"I don't know, I wasn't thinking." Your mom explained, "I panicked. There are a few other ladies at work doing it, so I decided why not?"

"You are insane. When you're sweating and panting, I'll laugh." You leaned back in your seat, shaking your head. The bells above the diner jingled, and you looked up, curious when you heard the diner quiet down.

Living in a small town, everyone knew everyone. It was quite the cliche. So, when news went around that Mat was in town, everyone knew and everyone started gossiping. What did he do that was so bad he had to be sent away? Why was he here?

Mat looked around the diner, taking a deep breath as everyone looked at him like he was a caged animal, "Hey, why don't we tone it down a notch, guys?" Your mom called out, but no one listened to her and continued staring.

"Hey, quit it!" You shouted, and that seemed to snap everyone out of their daze and they all went back to what they were doing. Mat shot you both an appreciative look before going to the counter to order.

As he was leaving, he stopped by your table, "Hey, thanks for that."

"It's no problem." Your mom shrugged it off, "Next time you see creeps look at us, just shout at them for us, then we'll be even." She winked.

Mat nodded with a smile, the first you'd seen from him, "Cool." He nodded, "I'll see you around. Gotta get this back to Milo." He held up his bag of food.

"Oh, yeah. He gets cranky."

"So, I've heard." Mat chuckled, before smiling and giving you a fake salute before walking out the door.

"Y/N, there's someone here for you." Your mom hollered down the hallway.

"Who is it?" You asked.

"You'll just have to see." She winked, making her way down the hallway to her own room and shutting the door.

Your brows furrowed together as you made your way down the hallway to the front door where Mat was waiting in the doorway, "Mat? What're you doing here? Is there a CD you wanna borrow or something?"

"No," He chuckled, "I wanted to apologize. For my behavior the first time we met." You were stunned at his apology and the fact that he even was apologizing.

"Oh..." You didn't know what to say, "Well, thank you. I accept your apology. I get it. If I were new in a small town and were forced to meet new people, I'd probably react the same way."

"That still doesn't excuse my behavior." You raised a brow at the way he was speaking.

"Are you okay? Did you, like, go to school with the prince or something? Why are you talking so properly?" You laughed.

"Media training."

"Media training? Are you a promise?" Your eyes widened.

He laughed, "No. I play a little hockey in New York."

"Wow, a real city boy." You teased, "You any good?"

"A little." Mat smiled with a nod. You hummed, smiling, "So, look, there isn't much to do around here, so I was wondering if you wanted to go to the music store with me." He offered.

You were shocked, "Yeah, sure." You nodded.

"Cool." He nodded, trying to play it cool, "Are you free tomorrow?"

"Yeah."

"Cool." He nodded again, "How does 1 sound?"

"Sounds good." You nodded.

The next day, you were ready way before 1 o'clock, and at exactly 1 o'clock on the dot, there was a knock on your door and you knew immediately who it was.

You jumped off the couch, smoothing down your pants, before making your way over and opening the door, "Hey." You smiled.

"Hey, you ready?" He asked, his hands shoved into his pockets. On the outside, he looked cool and carefree but on the inside, he was so nervous and could feel the nervous sweat going down his back.

"Yeah." You grabbed your bag and then locked your door. You walked and talked over to the music store, the conversation very mundane.

The second you walked through, you were off in your own world. You ditched Mat and started rifling through the records as if you weren't there a couple days ago.

"Looking for anything in particular?" He asked, looking through the box next to you.

"No, but every now and then, they get new records." You shrugged, continuing your search.

"Hey, Y/N." The owner, Vic, called out, grabbing your attention, "I think I have something for you." He waved you over. You eagerly walked over and gasped when he pulled a record from under the desk.

"Vic, have I ever told you I love you?" Your eyes were wide as he handed you the record.

He only smiled as Mat walked over in confusion, "What's so special about a Blink-182 record?"

"We moved houses a little while ago, and in the move, I lost this record. It meant everything to me. I would play it practically every day, so when it went missing, it was the worst day of my life. I've been on the lookout for one since then, but for some reason, it's been impossible."

"Until today," Vic spoke up with a proud smile.

"Until today." You nodded with a smile. You got your wallet out, ready to pay, but Mat stopped you, "What?"

"I got it." He told you, handing Vic his card.

"What? No." You shook your head.

"Can't I just do this nice thing?" He chuckled.

You pursed your lips as you tried to read him, "Fine." You related, letting Vic swipe his card so he could pay.

Mat held the door open for you as you exited, "You know, I didn't tell you that story just for you to pay for this right?"

"I know." He nodded, "I just wanted to." He shrugged.

"Well, next time you see something you like, within reason, let me buy it for you." You nudged him.

"We'll see." He smirked.

As the weeks passed, you and Mat started hanging out more. You learned about his life in New York, learned about his best friend Anthony, his sister, and his parents. You also learned about his crippling fear of dogs, which was hilarious, and he regretted it the moment you started laughing.

He learned about your love for books and your love for ABBA and Mamma Mia. He learned your mom worked at a hotel and she also shared your love of music.

Your mom was at work, so you were left alone. It was summer after all. You were startled and confused by the knock at the door, "What're you doing here?" You asked.

"Hi, Mat. Good to see you too." He joked sarcastically.

"With the formalities out of the way, my question remains. What are you doing here?"

"Well, I was doing some research. There's a hockey team nearby. It's like minor league, I don't think they even keep score, but I got us tickets. They're for today." He held up a piece of paper with information about the team.

"Let's say I wasn't free. What would you do?" You asked.

"Go to the game alone." He shrugged.

"Fine. Just give me like 10 minutes."

"You have 5." You raised a brow, "I was working up the courage to ask you and kind of wasted a lot of time. The game starts in an hour and it takes a while to get there." He scratched the back of his neck.

"Awh, do I make you nervous, Mat?" You teased.

He quickly shook his head, "No."

You laughed, "All right, five minutes." You nodded.

You found your seats but before you made it, Mat insisted on buying you a hat from one of the parents outside. The merch had the team logo on it, and most of the people inside were wearing it.

"Wow, this is much more enthusiastic than I imagined for some reason." You laughed.

"Yeah, they can get pretty rowdy." He looked around.

"So, you go to many games in New York?" You asked.

He laughed, "A few."

"What does that mean?" You asked curiously, to which he only smiled, turning his attention to the ice as they began the national anthem.

By second period intermission, Mat had explained every rule of the game to you so you understood a little of what was going on, "Hey, I'm gonna get a hotdog, you want anything?" He stood up from his seat.

"A hotdog sounds pretty good about now." You nodded with a smile.

By the time Mat got back, the second period was getting ready to start, "Sorry, line for hotdogs was long." He handed you yours with a couple packets of condiments, "Didn't know what you wanted, so I got everything."

"It's all good. Thank you." you smiled, "How much do I owe you?"

"It's on me." He shook his head as you pulled out your phone.

"What? Mat we can't keep doing this. I have money, you know." You joked.

"I know, but I feel bad that I took so long."

"It's fine. I made a friend." You pointed below you to the kid who was sitting in front of you with his family. The kid waved, a look of awe on his face.

Mat winked. He knew the look on the kid's face. It was one he was all too familiar with. The look of recognition. The kid knew who he was, but thankfully, had the manners not to say anything.

By the end of the game, you were practically a seasoned expert. You followed Mat around the arena, thinking you were going to the car, but were confused when you ended up right next to the ice.

"What are we doing here?" You asked nervously.

"Well, since it's your first game, I thought I'd make it memorable." He smiled, "Your gonna ride the Zamboni." Your eyes widened.

"What?" He pointed to the big ice machine coming down the hall.

"So, who's it gonna be?" The Zamboni driver asked, looking between you and Mat. Mat quickly, without hesitation, pointed to you, "All right, hop on." The man smiled.

You got on the Zamboni, and it felt like an out-of-body experience as you drove around the rink. Mat watched, filming the entire thing, from the entrance off the side of the ice.

"That was crazy." You exclaimed as you hopped off.

"Yeah? I thought you'd like it." He laughed, sending a smile and a wave to the driver and the couple of workers in charge of the Zamboni.

"That was so cool, Mat. Thank you. I had a lot of fun tonight."

"I'm glad I was able to be the lucky guest who took you to your first game."

"Glad you were here for it. You're a good teacher. Thanks to you, I wasn't so clueless." You laughed.

"And you're absolutely sure there's nothing going on?" Mat asked.

Lauren sighed, "Yes, Mat, I'm sure. I'm pretty sure I know my own kid's schedule."

"Okay, I just want to make sure. These tickets were very expensive and I don't think they're refundable."

"And I told you, I can pay for her ticket." Lauren insisted with another exasperated sigh.

"And I told you I got it covered," Mat told her.

Both of their heads whipped over to the door as you walked in, confused at the way they both looked over at you, "Hi."

"Hi, honey." Your mom smiled, "Well, I'm going to get going. I've got some stuff to do. I'll see you later." She grabbed her bag quickly and kissed your head before leaving.

"That was strange." You laughed, setting your stuff down on the couch, "So, what're you doing here? Another hockey game?" You asked.

"Well..."

"Oh, please don't tell me you bought hockey tickets again. I had fun, but I think the next time we go, I should buy them because I feel like a moocher and if I buy them then you can't tell me no." You ranted.

He smiled, "Not like that, but I do have another surprise."

"Oh, no."

"Oh no" what?" He asked.

"Your surprises are always big and expensive."

"The hockey tickets weren't too bad and the record I got you was even cheaper than both tickets combined."

"Mat..."

"Okay, fine, this one's a little expensive." He handed you an envelope, nodding his head when you raised a brow at him. Your entire body froze when you read what the paper said.

"Mat Barzal." You gasped, "Are you serious right now? This isn't a joke?" You started looking around the room.

"What're you looking for?" He laughed.

"Cameras." You answered.

"Stop, I'm being serious. They're real." He grabbed your arms and sat you back down.

"Holy crap." You sat down, covering your mouth in shock, "You actually got Blink-182 tickets?"

"Yeah." He nodded with a proud smile on his face.

"How?"

"I know a guy." He shrugged, to which you raised a brow, "All right, my sisters pretty good at this, so I had her get them for me."

"Well, tell your sister I love her, and thank you." You were still in shock as you kept reading the tickets, "Oh, my God, now I have to find something to wear." You rushed off to your room.

"This is insane." You shouted over the loud noise of everyone in the arena, "And so are these seats. I don't think I've ever been this close to the stage for a concert in my life." You laughed.

"Yeah, Liana is really good at these kinds of things." Mat nodded.

"I really can't thank you enough, Mat. This means so much. No one's ever done this for me."

"Eh, it was nothing." He shrugged it off.

"Okay, just take my gratitude, will you." You both laughed. You took your seats and sat in silence, just taking everything in. Mat left a few times to go to the bathroom and get food, but you sat the entire time, wanting to remember everything.

After the concert, you were on a high. The post-concert depression was hitting, but it was worth it. You quickly went through your grocery list as your mom waited for you in the car.

"Thanks." You smiled at the bagger as you rushed outside. You set the stuff in the backseat then got into the passenger side, "All right, they had everything except tomatoes." You informed her, looking over at her. You could see the worry in her brows, "What is it? Did someone die?" You asked.

"No." She shook her head, "Honey..." She paused.

"Just tell me." You exclaimed.

"It's Mat." She started.

"What about him?" You asked, your mind racing as you frantically thought of every possibility.

"He's gone." She told her, her eyes screaming with pity and sadness.

"Gone? Gone where?"

"Milo called while you were inside. Said he went home."

"Home where?"

"Back to New York. Said the team called and said everything was cleared and he could come home." She explained.

"What team?" You asked nervously.

"You didn't know?"

"Know what, Mom?" Your brows furrowed together again, this time in confusion and hurt.

"Mat plays for the New York Islanders. A pro hockey team, like the big league. He was sent to Ivory because of some bad press and now that it's all cleared up they called him back." You sat back in your seat, taking in what she had just said. She watched you, worried, "You okay?"

"I want to go home." You told her.

"All right." She nodded.

As soon as you got home, you made a beeline for your room and stayed there for the rest of the night. You laid in bed, not even moving when your mom called for dinner.

She leaned in the doorway, watching you stare at the wall, "I'm gonna just leave this here." She said, setting the plate down on your nightstand, then sitting on your bed. "You feeling okay?"

"Why didn't he tell me?"

"I can't speak for him, but maybe he just wanted to forget about whatever was going on in New York." She suggested.

"But I wouldn't have judged him or said anything."

"I know that." She nodded, hugging you and kissing your head.

"I really liked him, Mom." You whispered, your voice going quiet as your eyes filled with tears.

"I know you did." She whispered, her own eyes filling with tears as she did her best to comfort you.

The months dragged on and eventually, you moved on. It took a lot of pushing from your mom and even Milo, but you started hanging out with a guy from your school and one thing led to another and you started going out.

"Y/N, Jared's here." Your mom announced.

"Coming!" You hollered back, fixing your shirt before hustling down the hall where Jared was standing, talking to your mom, "Hey, you ready to go?"

"Yeah." He smiled. You said your goodbyes to your mom before you were out and walking through Ivory. Jared was telling a joke, which made you smile.

"What is it?" Jared asked, noticing that you stopped laughing. He followed your line of sight over to someone across the street, "Who's that?"

"It's, uh," You swallowed harshly, "It's no one." You shook your head, "Let's go." You grabbed his hand and pulled him down the street.

Mat saw you from across the street and even from across the street, he could make out the look of surprise and hurt on your face. He saw you drag the guy who he could only assume was your boyfriend down the street and couldn't deny the pang it sent to his heart.

The next day, you had sufficiently ignored and avoided Mat, somehow. How you did it was a mystery even to you but you did it. All that progress came crashing down when he walked into the diner.

You were waiting for your mom and he had seen you from outside and rushed in, "There you are." He sighed, trying to catch his breath after running in.

You sighed, angrily setting your cup down as he took the seat in front of you, "Look, you have every right to be upset with me..."

"Hell yeah, I have the right to be upset with you. For one, you lied to me about everything, and two, you left without any explanation or reason. I had to find out through Milo."

"I didn't lie about everything."

"Oh, no, just your occupation and the real reason you were here."

"Look, I don't get why you're upset." Mat sighed, and the moment the words left his mouth, he knew he messed up.

You scoffed, "You have some nerve, you know? I get it, you didn't want people to know who you were or why you were here, but I thought, I really thought we had something special but then you just leave. No note, no email, not even a message in a freaking bottle!." You exclaimed, shaking your head, and gathered your stuff.

"I tried."

"I don't believe you." You turned and walked out the door, ignoring the looks the other patrons in the diner were giving you.

It was like was against you because as you turned the street with Jared, Mat was walking down the other side, his arm wrapped around some girl's shoulder, a girl you had never seen.

You slowed your pace but it was already too late to cross the street, "Huh, funny seeing you here." Mat commented.

"Yeah." You sighed.

"Do you two know each other?" Jared asked.

"At one point." You nodded, keeping your eyes on Mat.

"Well, are you going to introduce us?" The girl Mat was with asked impatiently.

"Right," Mat nodded, "This is Alexis."

"This is my boyfriend, Jared." You pointed to your boyfriend.

"And this is awkward." Alexis muttered under her breath, "Mat, I wanna go."

"Alright, yeah, we gotta go." Mat grabbed her hand again and they walked past you.

You sighed, linking arms with Jared again as continued your walk, "So, who was that?"

"Mat. He's just a friend, well a former friend." You corrected.

"Just a friend?" Jared raised a brow.

"Just a friend." You nodded, reassuring Jared.

Mat hadn't planned to be in Ivory for too long, but he wanted to make sure you accepted his apology before he left. Milo had caught a cold and Mat could barely cook, so Mat braved the cold and went outside to get food from the diner when he saw you and Jared standing in the park, seemingly in the middle of an argument. He didn't mean to eavesdrop, but you were in public and he was just there.

"Are you serious? You promised he was just a friend, but ever since he got here, you've been weird." Jared told you.

"Jared, please, can we do this somewhere else?"

"No, be honest with me, do you like him?" He asked. By that point, everyone in Ivory was listening in on your conversation.

"What are you talking about?" You balked, "This is so stupid, Jared. You're making no sense."

"I'm making perfect sense. Before Mat came to town, we were perfect. Everything was going great. Then he came to town and it was like a switch had flipped. Everything changed, Y/N," The way he said your name hurt.

You knew he was right, but maybe you were too blind and hurt by what Mat had done to see it, "Jared, please."

"No, no more. I'm done. I'm sorry." He shook his head, shoving his hands in his pockets as he headed for his car down the street.

You stood there, regretting not wearing a jacket. As you looked around, you then realized just how many people had heard your fight and it was just the icing on the cake.

You were tired and as soon as the first tear fell, you were running as far and as fast as you could. Mat stood in his spot frozen in confusion. Everyone was watching you, not stepping in to help, so he decided to do it.

"Hey!" He shouted, his voice echoing loudly enough for everyone to hear him, "Quit it!" Everyone quickly went back to what they were doing.

He sighed, following after you as fast as he could. He found you sitting on a bridge, over a lake. He could hear you crying and sniffling as he caught his breath.

"Y/N...?" He called out your name quietly so it wouldn't startle you, "Can I sit next to you?" You didn't say anything, so he took it as his chance to sit down, "Wow, you are a fast runner." He felt his lungs burn with every word he spoke and every breath he took.

"Took track in high school." You told him, sniffling as you both looked out onto the water, "Was it bad?"

"Nah." He shook his head.

"Don't lie to me right now, Mat." You sighed.

He hesitated, "All right, it was a little bad." He admitted.

"God." You sighed, wiping your eyes.

"But don't worry, it'll all be over by next week."

"Great, so I can't go outside for the next week." You sighed angrily, "You can go, Mat. I'll be okay."

"No." He shook his head.

"Just go." You repeated.

"I'm not leaving you alone." He stated. You sighed, rubbing your temple, "Me and Alexis, we were never dating." He admitted.

"What?" You asked, brows furrowing together at his random outburst.

"We were never together. We went on a date, yeah, but nothing more."

"Why are you telling me?"

"Just so you know you aren't alone." He reached over and grabbed your hand. He smiled when you looked at your hands together, but didn't do anything to remove your hand from his.

After Mat had followed you down to the lake, you had kind of been avoiding him. It hadn't been intentional at first, but it sort of just happened.

Mat saw you across the street and started crossing the street to see you, but you quickly ducked into a store and lost him. That was when he knew something was wrong. He thought he did something wrong, so that was why he avoided you.

You knew you had to tell him what was on your mind, so you decided to go to his place and tell him what was wrong. You knocked on his door and saw when he opened. thedoor, he looked like he wanted to shut it in your face.

"Before you shut the door, please let me say what I want to say, then you can shut the door in my face." You cut him off.

"All right." He nodded, crossing his arms.

"Look, I'm sorry I've been avoiding you. It's immature of me and it's wrong because you didn't do anything. It's all me." You admitted.

"What do you mean?"

"I like you, Mat. Like, really like you, and when you left, it hurt. I was hurt, and when you came back, I was surprised. You came back just as fast as you left. It was all happening too fast. I had gotten over you, I was with Jared, then you came back and threw a wrench into everything."

"Oh, my apologies." He narrowed his eyes as he spoke, sarcastically of course.

You narrowed your eyes back at him before you continued, "I'm trying to apologize for the way I've been acting and I just wanted to tell you that I really liked you and really liked spending time with you before you jet off to New York again and leave without a goodbye." You shrugged.

He sighed, running a hand across his face, "Y/N..." He breathed out.

"That's all I had to say. You can shut the door now if you want." You told him, turning on your heel and walking down the stairs.

Mat's brain was slower than his feet because before he knew it, he was calling out your name and picking up his pace. He grabbed your arm softly and spun you around.

He ignored the confused look on your face before leaning in for a kiss. When you pulled away, your brows furrowed in confusion, "Is that you saying you feel the same way?"

"Yes." He laughed, "I like you, too, Y/N."

"Oh, okay." You nodded, stunned by what just happened, "Can we kiss again?"

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