#today it was like 'hey its been a while! if you were a french fry what kind would you be'

[butchlifeguard]

me and my 2 straight boybesties are so interesting. one has texted me 4 times today none of which im gonna open and is responsible for some of the creepiest shit ive ever had said to me. one isnt insecure so hes actually fine w being platonic friends and we're both posting social distortion on our instagram notes. literally 'please please just text me back' vs 'daddy long dick just landed in la baby'

[taeswolfie]

𝑱𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒂 𝑭𝒆𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈 : 𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝑻𝒘𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒚

☽︎𝑹𝒂𝒗𝒊𝒏𝒈☾︎

Ch.19 - Ch.21

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Stiles Stilinski x fem!Reader

Word count: 4.3k

Y/n sits in the chair besides Stiles in his dad's office. She had been invited by the Stilinski's to have dinner and, even if she wanted to, she couldn't say no to Stiles' big brown eyes. Noah takes a bite of his burger only to be disappointed by its contents. "Oh, what the hell is this?"

"Veggie burger." Stiles says.

"Stiles, I asked for a hamburger."

"Well, veggie is healthier. We're being healthy." He shows off his salad then glances at Y/n. "Well, most of us." The girl looks up at that, a french fry hanging halfway out her lips before she munches it.

Noah then lifts the paper lid on his other container that holds celery and carrot sticks. "Oh, hell, why are you trying to ruin my life?"

"I'm trying to extend your life, okay? Could you just eat it, please?"

"Tell you what, Sheriff." Y/n leans forward. "I will trade you five fries for a celery and two carrot sticks, and you stop complaining and eat your food. Deal?" She raises a brow at him. Noah thinks about it for a second then nods.

"Fair enough." Once the trading of items is finished Stiles speaks up again.

"Tell us what you found."

"No, I'm not sharing confidential police work with teenagers."

Stiles looks at the board behind his dad. "Is that it on the board behind you?"

Noah glances at it while Stiles cranes his neck to see it better. "Don't look at that."

"A'ight." He sits down again but moves right back to looking.

"Avert your eyes."

"Okay."

"Hey!"

"Just- it's just- I see- arrows pointing at pictures."

"Okay, okay, stop. Fine." The teens perk up a bit. "I found something. Mechanic and the couple who were murdered. They all had something in common."

"All three?" Y/n asks.

"Yeah. You know what I always say. One's an incident."

"Two's a coincidence." Y/n had been around them long enough to know this phrase.

"Three's a pattern." Stiles finishes.

"The mechanic, the husband, the wife- all the same age. All 24."

"Wait a minute, but what about Mr. Lahey? I mean, Isaac's dad isn't anywhere near 24."

"Which made me think that either A) Lahey's murder wasn't connected or B) the ages were a coincidence, until I found this, which would be C." He hands Stiles a folder and Y/n leans to look over his arm as he looks at it. "Did you know that Isaac Lahey had an older brother named Camden?"

"'Died in combat'." Y/n read from the file.

"But if he were alive today, take one guess as to how old he'd be."

"24." Stiles says. All three get up to look at the board closer. "Now what if same age means same class- I mean, did you think of that?"

"Yeah, yeah." Noah nods.

"You sure?" Y/n asks teasingly and he hesitates.

"Well, I would've. I mean, I- look I just got Lahey's file two hours ago."

Stiles looks at him in shock. "Two hours? Dad, people could be dying."

"Yeah, I'm aware of that. Thank you."

They look at the board again. "Same class." The Stilinski's look at each other and suddenly Y/n is dragged over to the desk where Noah puts some books and files down. They look through files and Stiles picks up a blue folder. "Okay, this is it. Class of 2006. They all went to Beacon Hills."

"Including Isaac's brother."

"All right, but so what if they all knew each other, you know?"

"Two of them were married." Y/n agrees.

"Maybe they all just hung out."

"Well, they could have had the same classes together. They could've..." Noah trails off when he sees something.

"What?"

"Same teacher." He moves a paper around for them to see that it shows Mr. Harris.

"Harris." Y/n grimaces. She really doesn't like the guy.

"They were all in his class?" Stiles asked.

"All four. And I don't know how Mr. Lahey fits in, but this- kids, this is definitely a pattern. All right, give me the 2006 yearbook. These names, we need faces." He starts calling someone as Y/n grabs the book.

"Which ones?" She asks.

"Everyone in that Chemistry class. If the killer's not done killing..."

"Then one of them's next." Stiles says.

"Yeah." Then he gets an answer on the phone. "Yeah, it's Stilinski." After a bit of her and Stiles finding the people in Harris' class she got a message from Scott saying he needed her at the clinic.

"I gotta go." She said once she looked at it. "I gotta help at the clinic for a bit tonight."

"That's fine. Thanks for the help, Y/n."

"No problem." She smiles at the Sheriff and then turns to Stiles. "I'll see you later, yeah?"

He nods. "Yeah."

"Great detective work, guys." She gathered her things and then gave Stiles a quick kiss. "Love ya!" She called as she dashed out the door.

Stiles looked after her wide-eyed for a moment with a little love sick smile before he looked back at his dad who was smirking at him. He realized that his dad just saw and heard that and he busied himself with the files again. "Shut up." But he still had a smile on his face.

...

Y/n got to the clinic just as Scott left the room to open the front door for someone. "Hey." She greeted Alan. "Meeting with Derek Hale?" He nodded. "This should be fun."

"What's he doing here?" She heard Scott ask.

"I need him." Derek answered.

"I don't trust him."

"Yeah, well, he doesn't trust you either." Isaac's voice said then.

"You know what? And Derek really doesn't care. Now where's the vet? Is he gonna help us or not?"

"That depends." Alan leans on the doorjamb with Y/n next to him. She nods her head in greeting to the newcomers. "Your friend, Jackson. Are we planning to kill him or save him?" Derek said 'kill him' at the same time Scott and Y/n said 'save him'.

"Save him." Scott enunciates at Derek before looking back at Alan. "Save him." They all go into the back room and stand around the metal table, Y/n and Alan on one side, the werewolves on the other. Y/n places a tray of glass bottles filled with various things on the table.

Isaac goes to grab a bottle to look at it when Derek grabs his wrist and yanked it back. "Watch what you touch." He warns. While Alan looks through the bottles to find something hopefully useful Isaac leans his arms on the table.

"So what are you? Some kind of witch?" He asks Alan.

Y/n smirks at him. "That would be me." She flashes her eyes at him and he raises his brows a bit in surprise. "He's a veterinarian." She nods her head at Alan.

"Unfortunately, I don't see anything here that's going to be an effective defense against a paralytic toxin." Alan puts down a bottle.

"We're open to suggestions." Derek says.

"What about an effective offence?" Isaac offers.

"No, we already tried. I nearly took it's head off. And Argent emptied an entire clip into it. The thing just gets back up."

"Has it shown any weaknesses?" Alan asked.

"Well, one. It can't swim."

"Does that go for Jackson as well?"

"No. He's the captain of the swim team." Scott says.

"Essentially, you're trying to catch two people." He opens a drawer and grabs an item, closing the drawer and turning back to the group. "A puppet." He holds up a pendant depicting the horned god Cernunnos. "And a puppeteer." He puts the pendant on the table. "One killed the husband, but the other had to take care of the wife. Do we know why?"

"I don't think Jackson could do it. His mother died pregnant too, and she was maybe murdered. I think he couldn't let the same thing happen to someone else."

"How do you know it's not part of the rules? The kanima kills murderers. If Jackson kills the wife, then the baby dies too." Isaac theorises.

"Does that mean your father was a murderer?"

"Wouldn't surprise me if he was."

"Hold on. The book says they're bonded, right?" Alan asks Y/n and she nods. "What if the fear of water isn't coming from Jackson, but from the person controlling him?"

Y/n let's out a small 'ah' as she catches on. "So what if something that affects the kanima also affects its master?" She grabs the bottle of mountain ash, dumping a bit in her hand, and pours it over the pendant making the ash form a perfect circle around it. Alan smiles at her.

"Meaning what?" Isaac asks.

"Meaning we can catch them." Scott answers. "Both of them."

...

Stiles pulls into the school parking lot and parks near where Matt is locking up his bike. "There's gotta be some other way to get a ticket, right?" Scott says as he, Stiles and Y/n climb out of the Jeep.

"It's a secret show. There's only one way, and it's a secret." Stiles says.

"Hey." Matt suddenly calls and the three turn to look at him. "Any of you know why no one's getting suspended after what happened the other day at school?"

"Just forget about it. Nobody got hurt."

"I- I had a concussion."

"Well, nobody got seriously hurt."

"I was in the ER for six hours."

"Hey, do you wanna know the truth, Matt? Your little bump on the head is about this high on our list of problems right now." Stiles bends down and holds his hand an inch above the ground.

"Okay, settle down, tiger." Y/n makes him stand up straight and holds his hand, the action seeming to calm him a bit.

"Are you okay?" Scott asks Matt.

"Yeah, I'm fine now. So you didn't get any tickets last night either."

"Are they still selling?"

"Uh, no, but I managed to find two online. You should keep trying. Sounds like everyone's going to be there." Matt walks away.

"I don't like him." Stiles says.

"Me either." Y/n makes a face towards Matt's direction.

"Hey, are you sure about this?" He asks Scott.

"Last time, whoever's controlling Jackson had to kill somebody because he didn't finish the job, so what do you think he's gonna do this time?"

"Be there to make sure it happens." The three walk into school.

...

"Katamine?" Scott questions. Alan holds a vial of the drug up for the teens to see.

"It's the same stuff we use on the dogs, just a higher dosage." He explains and sets the bottle and a large syringe on the table. "If you can get close enough to Jackson, it should slow him down enough to buy you some time." He grabs the bottle of mountain ash. "This is some of what you'll use to create the barrier. This part is for you and Y/n, Stiles." He sets the bottle down. "Only you two."

"Uh, that sounds like a lot of pressure." Stiles picks up the bottle. "Can we maybe find a slightly less pressure-filled task for me?"

"You'll be fine, Stiles." Y/n assures and plucks the bottle from his fingers. "This is from the mountain ash tree."

"Which is believed by many cultures to protect against the supernatural." Alan adds. "This office is lined with ashwood, making it difficult for someone like Scott to cause me any trouble."

"How come Y/n is able to use it then if she's also supernatural?" Stiles asks curiously.

"Witches are like the bridge between the natural and supernatural world." She explains. "We're supernatural enough to not be human, but human enough to not be affected by certain things."

"Okay, so then what? We just spread this around the whole building and then either Jackson or whoever's controlling him can't cross it?"

"They'll be trapped." Alan nods.

"Doesn't sound too hard." Scott tries to assure Stiles.

"Not all there is. Think of it like gunpowder. It's just a powder until a spark ignites it. You need to be that spark, Stiles."

"If you mean light myself on fire, I don't think I'm up for that. And why aren't you saying this to her?"

"Because I already know how to use it."

"Let me try a different analogy. I used to golf. I learned that the best golfers never swing before first imagining where they want the ball to go. They see it in their mind and their mind takes over. It can be pretty extraordinary what the force of your own will can accomplish."

"Force of will." Stiles nods, yet he still seems unsure.

"Here's another example." Y/n offers. "It's kinda like pixie dust, you need to believe it will work or else it won't."

"If-" Alan moves his head a bit to make sure Stiles is looking at him. "If this is going to work, Stiles, you have to believe it."

…

That night Stiles pulls up outside the secret party after picking up Scott and Y/n. They all go to the back and Stiles opens it up. "You okay?" Scott suddenly asks Stiles as he grabs a bag of mountain ash.

"Yeah, why?"

"You just didn't say anything the whole way here."

"No, I'm fine." Y/n could tell that was a lie. Something was bothering him, she could feel it. Something at home. She had been waiting for them to be alone to say anything about it. "Grab the other bag, please." Stiles asks her which she complies.

Scott suddenly takes a few steps away as he hears something. "Not here, not now." He says just before he rushes away.

"What- Scott?" Stiles called after him, it's to no avail.

"Let him go. We'll be fine." Y/n gives him a reasurring smile. He goes to start pouring the ash before she stops him. "Hey." He gave her a questioning look. "What happened earlier?"

"I don't know what-"

"Stiles." She sighed. "I know when you're lying. It's not just the upticks in your heart either, I just... I just know, okay? So, please, don't lie to me."

He sighed and looked away. He was so quiet she thought he wouldn't speak until he did. "My dad was fired." He finally said, although it was a near whisper. "And it's my fault."

She lightly shook her head and hugged him, he practically wrapped himself around her for comfort as the bags were left momentarily forgotten by their feet. "It wasn't your fault." She spoke just as quietly. She pulled away and made him look at her by putting a hand on his cheek. "It wasn't, okay?" At her insistence he nodded a bit. "It'll be okay. I promise." When he managed a small smile she gave him a soft kiss, nothing rushed or heated, but slow and promising she'll be there for him.

When they pulled away his smile was more genuine. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." She suddenly grinned as she stepped away from him. "Now, let's catch some baddies." She hauled up the bag of ash and took his hand. "Come on." He grabbed his own bag and she led them to the other side of the building. "I'll go this way, you go that way and we meet in the middle."

He nods with a deep breath. "Sounds like a plan." And then they start pouring the ash, going opposite ways to meet back around at the Jeep. It took a bit but not as long as it would have with just one of them pouring it. Y/n got back around before Stiles had. She figured he was going fast but slowish to make sure he poured it well enough. Y/n caught the last handful of ash in her hand and tossed it forward, finishing her last twenty feet of her half.

She was leaning against the Jeep, waiting for Stiles and keeping an eye out for whoever was creating that gunfire. She had a feeling it was Hunters, but the wolves seemed to be holding their own for now. She heard shuffling and turned to find Stiles as he caught his last handful of ash. "Oh, no." He whined. "What are we gonna do?" He immediatly started going into panic mode. "Y/n, I don't know what to do. There's like 50 feet of ash left and I'm hearing gunfire and werewolves-"

"Stiles, calm down. It's okay."

"How is this okay, Y/n? I've got a handful of magic fairy dust left and it's not enough. It's not enough."

"Stiles!" She snapped once she was in front of him. "It's enough. You have to believe." She spoke more softly. "Remember what Alan said? Just picture it. Believe and picture it working."

"I don't know-"

"Believe in me." She took his hands in hers, carefully curling her hand over the one holding the ash while intertwining the other. "If you can't fully believe in this, then believe in me. I know it will work. Trust me. Picture it." His eyes darted over her shoulder to a bumper sticker with a quote. Imagination is more important than knowledge - Einstein. He looked into her eyes, shining with determination and faith. He trusted her with anything and he believed in her unconditionally. If she believed that the ash was enough, then it was enough.

He took a deep breath and nodded. "Okay. Just- just imagine." She nodded and took a step back, taking more when he followed. He kept his focus on her eyes, not paying attention to the slow trickle of mountain ash slipping though their fingers until their hands were open and empty. He looked down, half expecting the line to still be incomplete. When he saw it was indeed intact he laughed in excitement. "Yes!" He threw his hands up while Y/n smiled at him. He suddenly jumped onto the back of a car only to hop right back off when the alarm started going off.

Y/n rolled her eyes with a head shake. Her eyes flashed and she snapped her fingers, the car stopped blaring and Stiles continued his happy dance. "Told you."

"You are amazing." He quickly kissed her, making her eyes widen in surpise while he cheered some more.

She shook her head fondly with a smile before grabbing his hand. "Okay, that's enough celebrating. We still have someone to deal with." They made their way to the small area where they agreed to take Jackson when they got him.

Erica and Isaac anxiously watched over Jackson when the door opened. Stiles immediatly putting his hands up when Erica almost lunged at him. "No, no, no! Just us, it's just us." Y/n closed the door behind her and then looked at Jackson. He was seemingly passed out, slumped in a fold out chair.

"Is he okay?" Y/n asked.

"Well..." Isaac went over to him. "Let's find out." He pulled out his claws and went to swipe at Jackson.

"Isaac, wait-" Y/n tried to warn, when suddenly his arm was caught. He grunted in pain and fell to his knee when Jackson's grip was too strong. He managed to pull his arm free and retreat back to the group.

"Okay, no one does anything like that again, okay?" Stiles ordered. Erica nodded while Isaac was still in pain.

"Give me your arm." Y/n held her hand out expectantly. Isaac looked up at her warily. When she gave him a look to urge him forward he hesitantly held his arm out for her. She gently held his hand and carefully held the other over where he was injured, her eyes glowing as she encouraged his healing and healed a bit of it herself so he was in less pain.

"Thanks." He said when she let him go.

"No problem."

"I thought the ketamine was supposed to put him out."

"Yeah, well, apparently this is all we're going to get." Stiles said. "So let's just hope that whoever's controling him decided to show up tonight."

Jackson's eyes opened. He didn't look at any of them, just stared into space. "I'm here." He spoke although it wasn't his voice. It was distorted and sounded like more than one person was speaking. "I'm right here with you."

Y/n took a step forward, but Stiles grabbed her wrist and gave her a worried look. She nodded in reasurance and he let her go. She crouched down in front of Jackson, keeping a safe distance. "Jackson, is that you?"

"Us. We're all here."

She quirked a brow, glancing at the three behind her. "Are you the one killing people?"

"We're the ones killing murderers."

"So all the people you've killed so far-"

"Deserved it."

"We got a little rule book that says you only go after murderers."

"Anything can break if enough pressure's applied."

"That can lead to unforseen consequences most often than not. Are all the people you're killing murderers then?"

"All. Each. Every one."

"Who did they murder?"

"Me."

"What?"

"They murdered me." Erica and Isaac got anxious as Jackson's eyes shifted to his kanima ones. "They murdered me."

"Y/n, get back here." Stiles asked when Jackson's claws came out. She stood and backed up to him. "Okay, all right. More ketamine. The man needs ketamine. Come on!"

"We don't have any more." Isaac held up the empty bottle.

"You used it all?" Y/n asked incredulously. Erica anxiously tapped Y/n's arm and they looked over to see Jackson standing up. Y/n would have tried compelling him back to sleep if someone else hadn't already had control of his mind right then. Jackson screeched at them, half shifted. "Okay, out, out! Everybody out!"

The four rushed out of the room and piled against the door to hold it closed. "Okay, find something to move in front of the door." Stiles instructed. Another screech rang out and a second later the fully shifted kanima broke through the wall and ran away.

"Well, shit."

Stiles and Y/n go back out to the Jeep in the flow of people leaving the party. They step over the line as Derek comes up to them. "Hey, um, so we kind of lost Jackson inside, but it's-" Stiles cuts himself off when Erica and Isaac come out, but they pause when they sense something. Isaac crouches down to look at the ash line, glancing up at Erica. The two look nervous and confused because they can't cross. They haven't experienced mountain ash before. "Oh, my God. It's working! Oh, this is- we did something." He brags to Derek.

Y/n's eyes widen when she and Derek hear Scott's sudden roar. "Scott." She takes off and Stiles looks after her confused.

"What? Where are you-"

"Break it." Derek orders quickly.

"What? No way."

"Scott's dying!"

"Okay, what? How do you know that? Is that why Y/n-"

"Yes! We just know! Break it!"

Stiles drops to his knees and waves his hands down, creating a rush of air that dispersed the ash and broke the line. Derek rushed after Y/n as soon as he could. He caught up to her just as she went into a room. She spotted Scott on the ground as soon as she went in and darted to his side, dropping to her knees beside him. Derek was on her tail but paused just behind her, the wolfsbane in the air having an effect on him. Victoria came from the shadows and stabbed Derek in the back. He groans in pain and turns around, catching her arm before she could stab him again.

Y/n looked up in fear and without thinking she threw her hand up, her eyes flashing as she forced the knife from the woman's hands. Victoria stumbled from the sudden action. She recovered as Derek went for her. They struggled and ended up by the doors where the strobing lights filtered in. Derek growled and bit her in defense before she managed to toss him aside. She ran before he got up. When he saw the Hunter was gone he quickly went to help Y/n carry Scott out of that room.

…

Scott was layed out on the metal table in the backroom of the clinic. Alan had just finished helping the werewolves with Y/n's assistance. Derek sat in a chair against the wall, watching them. Alan lightly petted Scott's head in reasurance. The teen would be fine. "Thank you." Derek said. Y/n looked up at him and smiled.

Alan walked out into the front of the clinic, turning at the sound of a familiar voice. "I can't decide if l admire your sentimentality or despise it." Ms. Marin Morell sat in one of the waiting chairs and looked at him.

"If I want your opinion, I'll make an appointment with the guidance office."

"From the state of things, I think you could use a little guidance. Are you really going to leave all of this up to a couple of kids?"

"They're more capable than you think."

She looked away in thought. "And are you going to tell them what's coming?"

He glanced towards the back room. "They've got enough to worry about."

Y/n sits against the wall of the clinic, resting a bit as she watches over Scott, Derek seemingly doing the same as he rests his head against the wall with his eyes closed. She closes her eyes and copies Derek's position, trying to get some type of rest. It doesn't seem like she'll get it, however. She knows he's there without even opening her eyes.

Peter sits against the wall next to her. "You know, you could do so much more. If you practiced a bit of blood magic you'd be so much more confident in your abilities. You'd be a force to be reckoned with."

"I'm not ready." She muttered.

"You keep saying that, but are you really not ready? Or are you just too scared to try?"

She snapped her head to the side, brows furrowing as she looked towards him, he was already gone. She couldn't help but think of what he said.

Was she scared to try?

Ch.21

[curlynerd]

You're Bacon Me Crazy Word Count: 2K Rating: T Summary: "I can like more than one kind of burger, you know!" Or, Dean comes out through complicated burger metaphors. Notes: humor, canon-adjacent, coming out, established Destiel, #pray4Sam

Also read on AO3!

"You're really having two burgers, Dean?" Sam asks in his most smug, most obnoxious "I’m eating kale for lunch" voice. Dean really hates that voice.

Dean straightens his back and spreads his hands out, like the two wrapped burgers, the extra large fries, and the soda with two straws are a majestic bounty. “I’m a growing boy, Sammy."

“Uh-huh,” Sam deadpans. He lifts the takeout lid of his salad and starts carefully drizzling the vinaigrette cup over his bed of leafy greens and grilled chicken. “And you’re definitely not going to bully Cas into splitting them with you? You know he doesn’t need to eat.”

Something tight and anxious curls in Dean’s chest. “No!” he blurts out, realizing a second too late that it’s normal for him to share his food with Cas. Just because he’s been doing it more now that he and Cas are finally together does not mean that it’s weird now.

In response to Dean’s defensiveness, Sam raises a self-righteous eyebrow in sync with his salad-laden fork. “Can he even really taste them? I thought he didn’t like food in angel mode.”

Dean swallows down a multitude of answers. He likes sharing the experience with Cas anyway. He thinks the way his face scrunches up at the molecules is cute. It makes him feel all warm and fuzzy inside that an angel -- his angel -- is willing to put up with something so silly and mundane and human as taste-testing different burgers.

He really, really needs to tell Sam the truth about him and Cas. Hell, he’s been trying to for months! But every time the perfect opportunity presents itself, he turns into a fuckin’ coward.

And today definitely is another perfect moment. The conversation has naturally turned to Cas. They’re sitting at a picnic table at the park, with nobody around to overhear Dean spill his guts in the most agonizing and uncomfortable way possible. They’re working a case, so immediately after the conversation Dean can bury himself in research and hunting and not have to deal with Sam’s big, obnoxious “let’s make a huge deal out of this!” puppy dog eyes. And Cas isn’t even here right now to make things more awkward. He’s still checking out the victim at the coroner's office across the street.

Dean tries not to think about what a big baby he’s being by ignoring this golden opportunity. “He just tastes stuff different as an angel. He’s learning how to pick out the nuance.”

Sam rolls his eyes. “Because there’s so much nuance to ‘extra cheese’ or ‘hold the tomato.’”

“Oh like you’d know, Mr. Tofu Burger.”

“You’d eat a burger off the floor. Are you really trying to convince me you care about what kind of burger it is?”

Dean huffs and levels an indignant glare at his brother. “I absolutely have a favorite burger.”

“Then why’d you get two different kinds?”

"I can like more than one kind of burger, you know!"

Sam snorts. "That's just an excuse to eat more burgers." He spears a forkful of tomato and spinach with a smug little twinkle in his eye.

"It's so not," Dean insists. He gestures at the two wrapped foil rounds in front of him. “These are two unique burgers that both have their own delicious qualities.”

“Really?” Sam’s expression is so pompous Dean kind of wants to throw a french fry at it. Except that would be a waste of a perfectly good fry.

“Yes ‘really.’ Look--” Dean carefully unwraps his first burger. “This is a pickle burger. And not just any ol’ pickle burger. The best, most amazing, and -- dare I say it? -- sexiest pickle burger in the entire continental US.” He smirks as Sam rolls his eyes. “Now I can tell by that condescending look in your eye, you’re wondering, ‘What the hell is so special about a pickle burger? It’s just pickles!’ But that’s where you’re wrong.” Dean lifts the top bun and points down to the burger, looking almost gleeful at all its toppings. “Fried pickles, pickled red onions, relish…Sour and sweet and crunchy, the perfect compliment to a juicy, meaty burger. And one this big? You’ve gotta have a little something special to handle all this meat.” Sam tilts his head, his mouth twitching like Dean said something embarrassing. Was it waxing poetic about vegetables? Probably. Dean chooses to ignore it.

“Ya know,” he continues, “for the longest time I didn’t think I’d like a pickle burger. For years I’d be at diners and think, ‘...maybe? I dunno. Probably not for me.’” Dean pulls his mouth down into a thoughtful frown and bobs his head to mimic his past thoughts. “And then...I’m not sure, I just figured, why not at least try it? All those burgers I’ve had all over the country; I could at least give it a whirl. And it. Was. Awesome!” Dean gently places the bun back on his burger and gives it a little affectionate pat. “Now I can’t get enough of ‘em.”

Sam's expression does a complicated dance that Dean can't even begin to follow. But it suddenly clears into a look of dawning realization, followed quickly by horrified guilt, before it clamps down entirely.

Weird.

"Well...I can't fault someone for enjoying a good pickle burger," Sam says slowly. He doesn't meet Dean's eye, keeping his gaze down as he delicately stabs at his salad with his fork. He frowns at the cucumber slice he spears and carefully dislodges it from the prongs. "Especially if they really like, uh, pickles?" Sam cringes a little down at his greens. Dean can't blame him. It's a sad looking salad.

"Exactly!" Dean gestures down at the burger. "I'm a meat man and a pickle guy." Sam looks up toward the sky and then down toward the ground below with a sort of pleading desperation. "This is a great burger for me. And don't even get me started on the sauce--"

"Okay!" Sam's voice pitches up several octaves. Dean frowns at him, but before he can ask, Sam takes a deep breath and plasters a warm, understanding smile across his face. "You know what? You're right, Dean. After all this time. All those, uh...burgers. I'm glad you've figured out which one you like best."

"Well, not quite. I mean, this one…" Dean carefully unwraps the second burger. "Is there anything sexier than a breakfast burger?" He practically beams down at the golden-brown bun, the fringes of fried egg drooping over the side, crisp bacon peeking out from under the patty.

"I...I don't know?" Sam has the same terrified expression as when Dean drags him onto ramshackle roller coasters at crappy county fairs. God, he's such a baby about cholesterol.

“Yeah. C’mon, you know they’re great!” Dean says cavalierly, because he’s not going to miss a chance to gloat about the awesome food Sam misses out on with all his salads. “Bacon is, you know, bacon! It’s the best tasting thing in the world! Salty, greasy, crunchy…”

Sam’s brow furrows so deeply it’s like it’s mining for coal, his unfocused eyes searching the empty space between them like he’s trying to figure out the deep, dark mystery of bacon.

Dean rolls his eyes. Of course he wouldn’t understand. The dude eats low sodium turkey bacon. "I know you haven't had good, real bacon in ages--" Sam looks offended. Then confused. Then offended again. "--but trust me, man. It's awesome. When ya got bacon in your burger, it automatically makes the burger a hundred times better. Can’t get enough of it!” Sam groans like he's in pain.

Dean grins and keeps going. “And you’ve gotta admit, a fried egg is a thing of beauty. Give me a good silky, drippy egg all over my burger and I’m a happy guy.” Sam’s nose scrunches up into abject horror. “You get that gorgeous, soft yolk oozing everywhere...It’s creamy and delicious and unctuous and--”

“Dean!” Sam shrieks. He lets his fork fall into his bowl and covers his face with both his hands. His voice is muffled, but it’s definitely a tormented whine. “I know this is a tough topic for you, but can you please just say you’re bi and never use words like ‘unctuous’ again? I’m begging you!”

Dean freezes. “Wh-What?” Did Sam really--? He--? How does he know?!

Sam pops up from his elbows, dragging both hands through his hair as he frees his face from hiding. “I get it, dude. Okay? I get it. I mean...I don’t get it.” He glances down at the two burgers with a perturbed look and holds up his hands in surrender. “But I get it.”

Dean stares at him. “Get what?” he demands. His heart is pounding fast. Bi. Sam knows he’s bi. When did he figure it out?! Why’s he bringing it up now?!

Sam fixes him with a flat look. “The burgers? The...God...bacon sex metaphor? The pickle guy thing? I get it. Please. Please stop talking about eggs like that. I’ll never eat an omelette again!”

Sex metaphors? Pickle guy?! Dean takes a moment to think and...yeah. Yup. He really did say “I’m a pickle guy,” out loud. Wow.

Maybe he should just...roll with it?

Because otherwise Sam is definitely going to mock him for that for the rest of his life, and honestly, coming out is the much better option.

“You got me,” Dean says with a small laugh. He spreads his arms out with a bit of a flourish, and it’s a relief to say it. It feels good. “What can I say? I like all kinds of burgers. And hotdogs. Tacos. Kielbasa...”

“Please stop,” Sam groans, rubbing at his eyes with his hand.

Oh yeah, this is definitely the better option. Dean fell ass-backwards into a conversation he’s been dreading for months, and the only person feeling awkward and miserable here is Sam!

Really it’s a win-win.

Dean grins from ear to ear as he relishes Sam’s mortification. “Hey now, I thought you were supportive! What happened to ‘I’m happy for you and your burgers?’”

“I am happy for you, I just wish this wasn’t happening over lunch…” Sam whines as he drops his hands on the table.

“What’s Sam happy about?” Cas asks, startling the both of them by approaching their picnic table. His eyes are earnest and sincerely curious, which only causes Sam to send a miserable, pleading look his way while shaking his head.

“Sam thinks pickles are gay,” Dean says to Cas with the same sort of smug glee of the teacher’s pet tattling about note passing in class.

Cas scrunches his face in confusion as he sits down beside Dean. “Sam, that’s...nonsensical.”

“That’s what I said!” Dean lies, because the way Sam’s eyebrow is twitching right now is too damn funny. “Wait til you hear what he thinks about bacon.”

Sam drops his face into his hands again. “This is the worst day of my life,” he groans as he massages his temples with his fingers.

Cas furrows his brow at him. “You’ve been to Hell.”

“And I’m still there, apparently!” Sam flings his hand up in exasperation. Cas quietly takes a sip of Dean’s drink, which for some reason just pisses Sam off more.

“You know, you could have just been normal about this. No weird, gross food metaphors. Just--” Sam drops his voice several octaves and bobs his head in a deliberately annoying parody of Dean. “--‘Hey Sam, by the way, I’m bi and totally in love with Cas, no big deal,’ or whatever.”

Dean goes still while Cas tilts his head at the two of them.. “Who says I’m in love with Cas?” Wait. Is that obvious too? Shit, well, looks like he gets to rip two bandaids off today. Thank God for the hilarious panic on Sam's face, because otherwise Dean would be the one freaking out here.

Sam’s eyes go huge, all color draining out of his face. “Oh shit. I didn’t-- I’m sorry, I--”

Dean can only manage to maintain the ruse for a few seconds before he bursts out laughing. “Nah, I’m just messing with you. Where have you been, man? Cas and I have been together for ages. I thought you were the smart one!”

Sam looks like he wants to leap across the picnic table and strangle Dean.

With a glare so sour it could peel paint, Sam snatches Dean’s extra large order of french fries and storms off toward the car to sulk. About three paces away, he stops, turns around, and levels a stern finger at Dean alongside his scowl. “For the record. I’m proud of you. And I’m honored you chose to trust me with this information,” he hisses in a frustrated huff before he spins on his heel and marches away.

Dean wipes a tear from his eye, still chuckling under his breath. Cas stares after Sam in concern.

“Why is he so mad?”

Dean shrugs off the question as he slides the pickle burger in front of Cas and nudges him with his elbow to try it. “Hell if I know. If you ask me, dude needs to have a burger every once in awhile.”

[treasure-hwa]

as stubborn as you

pairing: seonghwa x female reader

genre: fluff, comedy, a tentative of enemies to lovers

synopsis: it's been a long way since they were kids and best friends. They consider themselves arch-enemies, but are they really?

word count: 4528

author's note: I took TOO LONG to write this one, I know! But it’s here and it’s here on this precious star’s birthday!!! I hope you all enjoy reading this. By the way, yes, I changed the story from “pocky challenge” to “pepero challenge”.

taglist: @winterviolet1 @multidreams-and-desires @ateezinmymind @devil-mp3 @little-precious-baby @hwaddict @trinityhasjams @hwa-luvs because when I did my little survey on what should I write, you voted for Hwa <3 @suni-ho

The doorbell rang and, from the bathroom, you heard your brother yelling for you to get the door. You rolled your eyes and took a deep breath, preparing yourself to see that boy's face and try not to punch it. As you opened the door, a body crashed on yours and you didn't even need to see the face to see who it was.

— Wooyoung!

— Babe!

He kissed your cheek and moved away so the other boys could greet you too, but the last one barely looked at you, he seemed displeased to see you there, as if you didn't have the right to be at your own house. It was enough to see him at school, but in your house too?

Who is he, the reader must be asking. He was Park Seonghwa, your arch-enemy. How does one become an arch-enemy? Easy. Park Seonghwa was incredibly annoying and too perfect at everything he did, which was a lot. Class president, student council, volleyball and soccer player and dancer. To top it all, unfortunately, he was your younger brother's best friend and a member of your friend group, so you saw each other too often.

Didn't Yeosang, your brother, know how much you disliked his friend? You both were constantly picking on each other, everything the other said was a reason to eye rolls and scoffs. Quite annoying and immature of you two, the group friend thought, even if they were used by that now.

— Hi, guys, — Yeosang came out of the bathroom, sat on the couch beside Hongjoong and looked at you and his older friend on the door. — Are you two gonna spend the whole afternoon there?

Seonghwa smirked and let out the first teasing of the day:

— I know I’m a very important person, but you don’t need to wait for me to get in and sit to do the same.

You breathed deeply and pushed the door close, almost slamming it.

— Anyways… what are we doing today?

— I brought my new dancing game! — Yunho exclaimed and took the game out of his backpack. — Who wants to play it?

Everybody raised their hands and started asking if they could dance to certain songs, and to your surprise, Seonghwa said the same song you did, and it only fueled him to win over you, because that was one of his favorite songs, he had to be better. Everybody was shocked that you two had at least one thing in common.

— You dance? Since when? I thought your motor coordination was super bad — Seonghwa teased, raising an eyebrow.

— For your information, yes, I do dance and I am very good at it, thank you.

— Up for a challenge?

You two glared at each other, if you were a cartoon, there would be fire on your eyes. Most of the time, your group friend would hate your competitiveness, but it could be fun right now, so they rushed you to get up and Yunho put on the dance game.

It was a girl group song, in which you knew he was amazing at dancing, just as perfect as he was on all the other things he did, but even knowing that, you had to do better, so both put heart and soul on the performance, moving bodies exactly like the figure on the TV was doing.

By the end of the dance, you were panting, sweating and collapsed on the floor. Wooyoung quickly jumped over Seonghwa's body to sit behind you and put your head on his lap, complimenting your dance skills.

— Was it worth it? Did you have fun? — Jongho asked, looking at you, not amused at all.

— Of course… it was. I was… better — Seonghwa spoke between inhaling and exhaling air.

— You weren’t! I was!

— Ha! As if! I am the best.

— Listen here, Park...

— Here we go again. 

— Mom, mom!

— In the backyard!

Seven-year-old you had just arrived from school, your dad went to pick you up, while your mother went to pick your younger brother from his school. You ran to the backyard just to be greeted with a tight hug from a slightly smaller boy, that was not Yeosang, still in his school uniform.

— Noona!

— Wooyoung! — You laughed and hugged your brother’s best friend back. — I’ll play with you and Yeosang in a second, okay?

He nodded and went back to the other boy playing ball. You went to your mother and told her:

— Mom, I need to do a project in a group with two boys.

— Really? And are they your friends?

— No. — You pouted. — I don’t know them well.

— There is no problem, sweetheart, ask them for their phone numbers and I’ll call their parents to invite them over so you can work on the project. Does that sound good?

— Yes, mom, thanks!

Then, you ran towards the two six-year-old boys running, playing a weird kind of two-people tag.

In the same week, your mother called the boys' parents and scheduled a day for them to come to your house. When they arrived, you smiled big and welcomed them, they were Hongjoong and Seonghwa.

After some minutes of talking, you noticed Hongjoong talked more and had a nice colorful backpack, which he proudly showed saying his mom had painted it for him. Excited, you told him he should be the group leader since he looked confident in everything. Seonghwa was quieter, but heard and looked at everything attentively, so he agreed with you. Even if he was older, Hongjoong sounded more suited for the position.

When you were doing the project, colouring and writing, a loud voice and quick footsteps were heard, coming closer to the living room, where the three of you were. The voice owner was Wooyoung, who came to play with Yeosang again, however he changed his path to see you first and didn't like seeing another guy so close to you, looking at what you were writing and speaking quietly to not disturb anyone.

— Noona! Who is he?

— Oh, hi, Woo! They are my friends, Hongjoong — you pointed to the boy across you with the mullet, — and Seonghwa — you pointed to the boy beside you, wearing a red hoodie. — We are doing school stuff.

The boys waved to the younger one.

— I didn't know you had a brother — Seonghwa said.

— I do, but it isn't him, Woo is my brother's best friend. I can introduce you to Yeosang later.

And you did when it was break time. Your mother prepared snacks for the five kids and called all of you to sit at the dinner table, where your friends met your brother and they instantly clicked, though Yeosang was a little shy around strangers.

— Wooyoung! Don’t make a mess — you warned him and cleaned his cheek.

— Sorry~

Seonghwa and Wooyoung weren't the best of the friends right from the start and they still had little fights over the years, but you never understood them. Their friendship definitely grew though.

That was the beginning of the group, when you and Seonghwa were super friends. The others just came along the way.

The restaurant table was large enough for the nine of you, having a booth around its three sides, however Wooyoung insisted on coming closer to you, which didn’t make you uncomfortable at all. You had discussed it before, your feelings hadn't changed since you were little kids, you would always be best friends, you would be his noona and he would be your dongsaeng. The flirt and teasing was just for comedy. He was just a super sweet person who had to give love to who he loved the most, and you accepted his love because it was him.

— Wooyoung, we can't just drown ourselves in this gigantic glass of soda! You are crazy if you think I'm swallowing all this in seconds.

— You are just a coward.

— Hey, that's no way to talk to your noona! — You took the glass out of his hand, then held his face.

— Oh, shut up — he rolled his eyes fondly.

— Make me.

The moment was broken by an annoyed voice:

— Why don’t you two just get a freaking room? We don’t want to see your flirting.

You scoffed and diverted your eyes from Wooyoung, who was now grinning, and placed them on Seonghwa, who was sitting at the extremity of the booth, sipping his soda and looking out of the big window.

— Are you jealous, Seonghwa?

— Huh, you wish!

— Never in a million years. — You threw a saggy french fry on him, and the boy gave you a murderous look, ready to throw it back on you, but everybody stopped you two before things could get violent and you all were banned from the restaurant.

★━━━━━━✩━━━━━━★

— I just can't stand him!

— Yet, you talk about him every time you get the chance — Yeosang spoke nonchalantly, keeping his eyes on his video-game.

— But I'm complaining about his behavior.

— You just hate that he is better than you in certain things — he mumbled back.

You inhaled deeply, remembering how your scores on that dance game were always close to his, but never better.

— It's not that… he just annoys me.

Yeosang was right, but you would never agree outloud. When you were thirteen, Seonghwa started being the best student of the class, the best boy of the school, the most talented, everybody loved him. You were just there, beside him, even if you were a great student too, nobody really paid attention to you.

It came a time where not even Seonghwa would pay attention to you. He would hang out with his new friends, with Hongjoong, with the group, but only when you weren’t with them. He talked to you just the bare minimum and it hurted that it seemed like the “fame”  he had in school got to his head. Seonghwa wasn’t the same quiet boy you had met when you were seven, so you decided to not be the excited girl you were back then with him.

★━━━━━━✩━━━━━━★

— But seriously, when will Wooyoung just ask her out? It's getting annoying how he never makes a real move.

Hongjoong paid attention to what his friend was talking even if he was choosing new clothes, but the boy didn't believe what he had just heard.

— What are you even talking about, Seonghwa? You know he doesn't like her like that. They are just super close friends.

— I don't know, something on those two just doesn't smell good.

— Yeah, that's your jealousy, because he is still her friend, but you are not. Now, let's go, I'll try this one.

Jealousy? Pff, please! The boy thought while he followed Hongjoong to the fitting room. Why would he be jealous? Just because you chose Wooyoung over him? It was no big deal, Wooyoung was your friend before he had showed up in your life. Sure it annoyed him when you all were younger that you kept meeting up with Wooyoung, when Wooyoung wasn’t present in the group because he was watching a movie with you, when Wooyoung was always hugging you out of nowhere... he may have distanced himself that time.

But it wasn’t jealousy, he convinced himself. Not now. He had nothing to be jealousy of if he didn’t even like you.

★━━━━━━✩━━━━━━★

Two weeks later, now at Jongho's house, you had a full studying day. While you, Hongjoong and Seonghwa were in the last year of high school, Yeosang, Yunho, Wooyoung, San and Mingi were in their second year and Jongho was alone in first year. He saw it as an opportunity to nag his hyungs and noona to help him. Needless to say, no one resisted him that long.

The studying session, however, was messy. Snacks crumbles were all over the place, covering books and the floor, San even dropped his chocolate milk on the table. You had a break time to eat something real, so Jongho and Yunho poured soda on glasses and everybody made their own sandwiches to their own likes. Later, you ate ice cream and had to hear a long discussion about mint choco ice cream between San and Hongjoong. You were about to scream, but Seonghwa took a napkin and pressed it against San’s mouth, saying “shut up! I don’t wanna hear any more words”. It worked.

After the studying was over, it was clean time. While you liked everything clean, you hated cleaning, so of course you didn't volunteer yourself. But, through a rock, paper, scissors game, it was decided that you and Seonghwa would do the dishes and clean the living room while Yeosang, Yunho and Hongjoong went to get real dinner. The others went to lay in the backyard and "breath fresh air since the weather is so nice".

— Do you think it is a good idea to let them together? They hate each other. — Yunho commented while Hongjoong started his old car.

— They really don't — Hongjoong answered. Yeosang agreed.

While that, you and Seonghwa were washing plates and throwing knives at each other. Not literally though. Not yet.

— Why are you so bad at rock, paper, scissors? — He teased. — You hate cleaning, should have done better.

— Me?! You were the one who played late and still lost! What did you even do that?

— Well, because I…

You didn’t let him finish, because your head was almost exploding, so you threw drops of water on his face, which soon expressed pure shock. Quickly, he wetted his hands and did the same to you.

— Are you a child?!

— Are you made of sugar?

So a water war started, leaving you both with humid hair and wet faces. It only ended because you slipped on droplets of water on the floor and he caught you before you could hit your head on the counter behind you. When he pulled you forward, you collided with his chest and was at a loss for words for some seconds.

— Are you alright?

You nodded slowly and got away from him when you heard the boys were coming back inside.

★━━━━━━✩━━━━━━★

When your birthday came, you were excited and welcomed all the boys and a few girl friends, who couldn't understand why you disliked Seonghwa that much. The boy was perfect and so nice with everyone. You would always roll your eyes with that. Anyways, they all gave you gifts and enjoyed the small party, one of them hoping to see a certain friend of yours. You would play cupid someday. 

Wooyoung entered your house jumping on you as always, kissing your cheek and screaming "happy birthday!". He was a cutie, but, one day, you would lose your hearing. Seonghwa came last and gave you a square shaped gift, not hugging you, just shaking your hand and offering a pause on the rivalry.

— It's your birthday, you should be happy and be better than me at least today.

You smiled, thanked him, but still squeezed his hand until he was saying sorry.

— Come on in, try not to be a pain in the ass. I know sometimes you can’t control it.

— You are it! Ah, nice outfit by the way.

You chuckled and rolled your eyes, taking his gift to your room, you would open all of them later. When you came back to your party, you saw one of your girl friends talking to Seonghwa and… laughing hard? What was wrong with her? He wasn’t even funny.

— Planning his murder again? — Hongjoong bumped his shoulder with yours, following your eyes to Seonghwa.

— What? No! I mean, yes. All the time.

— You can’t fool me, stop lying.

— I’m not lying. He’s here just because he is part of the group.

— You know… he has been talking to me about you.

— Has he? What did he say? — you answered eagerly.

The boy laughed and shook his head.

— I think he doesn’t like how Wooyoung is so close to you.

— Well, it sounds like a him problem — you mumbled. — We are just friends.

While you changed the topic and diverted your attention from the other boy, Seonghwa had excused himself from your friend and went to take a glass of soda. Yeosang followed his friend and asked if he had brought a gift.

— Of course I did. We may be arch-enemies, but it’s her birthday. I know how to be decent.

— And what did you give her? I hope it’s not a bomb.

— It isn’t. — He gave a small smile, but hid it behind his glass.

★━━━━━━✩━━━━━━★

When you were alone in your room, you opened the gifts you had received. They were all very nice, you loved them all, but Seonghwa’s probably got deeper to your heart. It was simple, nothing fancy, but held memories of when you were little kids.

— Hwa! You came!

— Of course I did! Is Wooyoung here? — He peeked inside your house. — It’s quiet.

— He is not. — You laughed. — Yeosang went to his house, so today is just me and you. And my mom, but me and you! Hongjoong couldn’t come, he had guitar lessons.

The boy nodded and widened his eyes before speaking again:

— My mom made cookies for us. I-I helped her. — He smiled and handed you a pretty pink container with chocolate cookies inside.

— Really?! That’s so cool! Thank you, Hwa.

That day, you sat around the living room center table, ate the delicious cookies that he insisted on not telling you the recipe, with crayons, colored pencils and paper scattered around you while you two drew and painted several things. You ended up drawing the two of you plus Hongjoong, to symbolize the best friends group formed two years ago in school, but, when you exchanged drawings at the end of the day, you noticed he had drawn only you and him eating cookies and hearts and flowers. It was pretty, so you kissed his cheek before he entered his car.

So, yes, when you saw the same pink container with the same special cookies — you have always loved them, but Seonghwa never told you the recipe — and the drawing you had made years ago inside the gift wrapping, your heart might have clenched and your eyes stung with tears. You kind of missed the old times.

★━━━━━━✩━━━━━━★

Joining the boys that night was an idiot choice. You realized that the moment Mingi suggested playing Truth or Dare. Why did he even suggest that? Everybody agreed excitedly, so it was a dead end, at least it wasn't like they would order you to kiss any of them.

But you were wrong. You were so wrong.

As the bottle spun and stopped at you and Yeosang, you knew he would have no mercy. He asked the question and, for some unknown reason, you answered dare. Maybe you would like to see what he had in mind.

Not good things, you concluded after he said "do the pepero game with Seonghwa". You and the boy choked on your own saliva, looking away for a moment. San took the candy out of its package and offered it to his friend.

— Seonghwa? No way. Step aside, I can do this for you — Wooyoung suggested, winking to you, making you smirk playfully.

— No. I’ll do it — the eldest spoke up, making your eyes widen.

Seonghwa took the chocolate stick from San's hand and placed one of the ends between his perfect teeth. Rolling your eyes, but sweating on the inside, you got closer and refused to touch him in any way, which he approved. You put the pepero in your mouth and when San said “start!”, both your and Seonghwa’s mouths got closer, going forward on the stick.

Nobody thought you two would really do it, they actually expected you to poke each other’s eyes with the candy at the moment Yeosang set the dare. But you loved a challenge, so maybe that was why you two were not stopping.  Seonghwa’s hand went to the side of your neck, thumb placed gently on your jaw, and, surprisingly, you said nothing, just kept getting closer and closer, dangerously close.

— Will they… — Jongho started, but did not finish as an impossible scene was happening in front of his eyes. — They are....

The dark chocolate pepero disappeared inside your mouths as they were glued together, sharing a rather steamy kiss. Your hands were entangled in his gray hair and your mind could only think “his hair is soft, his tongue is soft, his lips too and they are so skillful”.

You kept going until Yunho came back from the bathroom and yelled at surprise. At that moment, your minds seemed to clear from some kind of hypnosis and you pushed each other far. You exclaimed “who wants more soda?” and ran to the kitchen, while Seonghwa rested his back on the couch behind him and wiped his mouth with his shirt.

Yeosang went after his sister and the other six boys glared at Seonghwa with a confused look, demanding an explanation. In the kitchen, you downed glasses of water as if they were vodka shots.

— What are you doing?

— Taking his disgusting taste out of my mouth.

Your brother took your shoulders and turned you to him, looking deep in your eyes.

— Stop lying to yourself — he whisper-yelled to your face. — You like him, it’s okay!

— I don’t! It was just…

From the living room, you heard Mingi shouting:

— I can’t believe you really did the Pepero challenge with her! Isn't her your rival or something like that?

— Yes, of course. And? — Seonghwa answered, trying to sound nonchalant while fixing the strands you messed.

— Dude, you just kissed her instead of stopping eating the candy. You’re not rivals. — Yunho slapped his shoulder, as if he was comforting the friend.

— We are! I didn’t even like their kiss that much.

You couldn’t contain yourself, so you shouted back for him to listen:

— Oh, yes, Park Seonghwa, sure you didn’t like my kiss, but maybe you should tell that to your tongue. That was disgusting!

An ovation was heard from the boys and Seonghwa stomped to the kitchen, meeting you in the middle of the way.

— Disgusting, you say now, but your tongue sure didn’t mind when it joined mine. And your hands! They… They were all over my hair! — His fingers pushed his hair back and, once again, you thought how soft it was. — Stop staring!

After shaking your head, you noticed a faint blush on his cheeks and his eyes were restless, searching a safe spot to look at.

— But you held my neck first! You’re not any better.

— Do you two want a little… private time to discuss your feelings? — Yeosang tried, holding a laugh in, because, yes, it was very funny how you and Seonghwa tried to deny your feelings, when he knew this mutual hate was nothing more than masked desire bullshit.

— No! — both shouted together.

Before you run up the stairs to your bedroom, you stuttered and attacked:

— Your… your breath stink!

His eyes widened and of course he could not let you have the last word, let alone those words, so, yes, he followed you, shouting “it doesn’t!”. Your brother laughed at the way the boy’s cheeks were even redder and went back to the living room, offering to watch a movie to his other friends.

Seonghwa arrived at your room before you could close the door and held it with his foot.

— Go away, freak.

— No! Take it back.

— Take what back, Seonghwa? — you sighed, getting tired from the situation.

— My breath doesn’t stink. Take that back.

— I’ll need to check again.

All your movements ceased when you realized what you had said. The boy was still processing if he heard correctly. You left your spot by the door and threw yourself on the bed.

— Did you really say what I think you did?

— Depends. — Your voice came out muffled by the pillow. — What do you think you heard?

As the mattress dipped with additional weight, you shut your eyes, not wanting to look at him. You had basically confessed, right? Slowly, you sat up and kept your stare at your fingers, playing with them if they were the most interesting thing you had ever seen.

— I’m so-

— What are you waiting for then? Kiss me again and check it.

Your eyes widened and you turned your whole body to him. Seonghwa didn’t want to waste any more time, so he cupped a side of your face and leaned in to get your lips with his. The boy’s mouth was moving with yours slowly, tasting it the best he could and his breath definitely didn’t stink.

Going past the shock, your hands went up to his hair once again, caressing his nape and slightly pulling him closer to you, because it was the best kiss you have ever had — among three: your first one, the one that happened earlier that night and the present one —, but still wasn’t enough. Seonghwa’s kisses had plenty of the feelings that your first kiss with your pre-adolescence crush lacked, and you were already addicted. Call it whatever, but you secretly hoped he would kiss you forever.

This desire, however, couldn’t be fulfilled, because air was a thing and apparently you had to get it, but the kiss sure left you feeling on cloud nine.

— So… — he said low, his breath fanning over your wet lips. — Does my breath stink?

— Yeah… no. You’re free of this.

You opened your eyes slowly only to be met with a pair of big, round, shining eyes. The shining eyes you would always notice when you were kids.

— Hey, uhm… I know we are arch-enemies, but… — The boy scratched his neck, looking away from you. — What if we were arch-enemies with benefits?

You wanted to laugh and tease him, but the offer was interesting, so you asked more information about the concept.

— Like… we can hug, kiss, talk, maybe hang out together, but we still tease and compete with each other?

Reader must now be laughing at how silly the boy was, but he looked 100% serious and you gave it a thought before agreeing.

— If I get to kiss and tease you, it’s okay for me.

He chuckled and pulled you to another kiss, that didn’t last because you two were giggling and smiling too much.

— Can we hang out together soon? Just the two of us, I mean. — He caressed your cheek, noticing how it was warm.

— Like a date?

He stumbled on his own words, but nodded.

— Like a date.

— You are so whipped for me, Seonghwa.

— Shut up!

[wing-ed-thing]

Bread Boy (Rock Lee x Reader, College AU)

Synopsis: You knew that his name was Rock Lee and that he lived on the third floor. Sure he seemed a bit odd, but you didn’t understand what the fuss was about. 

Word Count: 2,040

Warnings: Mild bullying

Notes: I looked up Bread Boy and it wasn’t something dirty so I have my fingers crossed that it remains being nothing bad. @beethebunny​ requested a modern au reader insert for Rock Lee in a post three years ago so here it is! If anyone knows how to get in touch with them that would be great. I tried their Reddit but nothing’s coming up for me. 

You had been sitting at the common room table for about an hour now. A video played on your screen and the lecture in your earbuds. You fidgeted with the touch pad of your laptop and rewound, trying to focus for the third time. You drummed your pen against the textbook that sat open next to you. Okay, so we have a population. When we take a sample from that population we get-

“He looks ridiculous.” You glanced up from your screen. “How does he not know how stupid he looks right now?”

You tried your best to ignore the small group that began to form around the common room windows. They laughed to themselves, eyes following a figure below around the quad. You turned back to your work. A little noise could be expected from studying in a shared space. You could handle that, right? So, if p̂ is a ratio-

“Now he’s on his hands.” You slammed your pen down on the table. A few heads turned towards the noise and you sheepishly looked away, placing a hand over your mouth. You paused the lecture recording and ripped your earbuds from your ears. Standing for the first time in a while, you stretched your legs. You gave in, approaching the windows to see what all the fuss was about.

Rock Lee lived in your hall, but you didn’t know much about him besides that his name was Rock Lee and that he lived on the third floor. Down below, he walked on his hands in what you could only assume were laps around the quad. You glanced back at the group that found more amusement in the sight than you did.

“Look at what he’s wearing, like, does he think he’s impressing anyone?”

“Maybe he’s exercising to exercise.” You mused. You looked from Rock Lee down below to find that eyes were on you. You gave a curt shrug. “He doesn’t have to impress anyone.” The girl from before scoffed.

“Well he certainly isn’t.” She earned a laugh from behind her. You sat back down at your seat. Not your problem.

***

A few hours had passed when you finally slammed down the lid of your computer. Stuffing your belongings into your bag, you decided that your brain had been officially fried for the day. Your stomach grumbled. A trip to the dining hall sounded promising.

You slung your bag onto your shoulder and pushed the button to the elevator. You took in the various groups that settled in the small public space. A few guys watched Rick and Morty loudly on the Roku TV. Most of the floor chatted with each other, tilting their chairs backwards as they did so. A handful of your neighbors discussed conspiracy theories on the academic whiteboard. The elevator doors opened.

You noticed when you got outside that the sun had set. Perhaps you had studied for longer than you thought. The journey to the dining hall was made quickly and hungrily. You made short work of swiping in and made a beeline to the french fries. Plate full, you searched for a table when you were waved over to one. Sakura signaled to you. Her pink hair stood out in the crowd of diners.

“Hey Sakura,” You greeted her as you walked over. “What’s up?” The blond from across from her cackled over his two full plates.

“Her tuesdays fuckin’ suck, that’s what’s up!” You came to stand before the pair, already snacking.

“Naruto!” Sakura rolled her eyes before turning to face you, “Come sit, you don’t have to stand, you know.” You placed your food down on the table next to the pinkette and pulled up a chair. She faced you again.

“What’s on your schedule that sucks so much?”

“I got a four hour lab with Orochimaru at 6:10.” Sakura melted into the table, motioning to the lab pack that hung on her chair. She groaned, a hand over her face.

“Yikes,” You recoiled, sharing her pained expression.

“I know, right? That’s pre-med for you” Sakura checked her phone. “I have seven minutes to get to Uchiha Hall. I swear, I never get a break.” She sighed.

You glanced at Naruto as he inhaled his mountain of food. It looked as if he hit every station in the dining hall. You could see chicken tenders, two burgers, and noodles of one sort or another. Cups of various finger food were stacked in two mounds on the two plates and Naruto tackled them like a man on a mission.

“You’re still in ROTC, right? Are they working you hard too?” You questioned. Naruto looked up in surprise at the burgers he currently double fisted.

“Nah’ fe’ lon’!” He laughed, mouth full. “Rot’sy suks ash!” You blinked. Sakura laughed and playfully slapped your shoulder.

“That’s ‘Naruto’ for ‘I don’t like Might Guy’.” Sakura gave another exasperated look at the blond. The two of you giggled together as Naruto let out a defensive cry. He picked up the last chicken tender from one of his plates.

“Hey, now that’s not true! Just because I could go without the excessive workouts doesn’t mean-” Sakura’s phone rang and she hastily snoozed her alarm.

“I gotta go! Take care of my plate, would you Naruto?” As soon as she scooped up her lab equipment, she bolted from the table. You took the plate and stacked it on top of the one Naruto cleared.

You didn’t know Naruto well. He was more Sakura’s friend than yours and the conversation died down from the time she left. You remained in your seats peacefully and silently scrolling through your phones. Both of you plucked fries from your plate. You glanced up at him. One on one time with Naruto turned out to be surprisingly peaceful. Or it was.

A blur of green entered your peripheral and in a blink, Rock Lee stood in front of you holding the biggest sandwich you had ever seen.

“Hello! I have seen you around before! My name is Rock Lee!” You took a second to process. He did not talk fast or unclearly by any means, but to your burnt out brain he may as well have been speaking another language. It didn’t help that you were still focused on the sandwich. You gawked at it. The sheer shape and size of it easily could have come out of a Scooby-Doo episode. Every meat and vegetable available seemed to be between those two slices of bread and they were all squished down as best as they could. Lee set his plate down while you paused. Still standing over the chair, he turned to Naruto who sat to his right. “And you know my friend Naruto!”

Naruto chuckled nervously before grabbing his three plates.

“That’s my cue to leave!” He whispered, leaving you alone as Lee took Naruto’s place across from you. He ignored the words and disappearance of the blond. You gave him your name slowly and albeit more softly. He stared at you, stars in his eyes.

“They cut me off from the sandwich station.” You wondered if you had zoned out somewhere between Naruto leaving and your greeting.

You glanced to your left, then your right, then back at him. “They… cut you off from the sandwich station.” You asked as much as you stated. Lee picked up the comically sized sandwich with two hands, digging right into it.

“Apparently there is a limit to how much turkey one can put on a sandwich before they cut you off.” He squished it down. “So I asked for the same amount of ham and they told me I could not come back today.”

“Oh.” You didn’t quite know what to say. “Sorry about that.” You opted, sticking a fry into your mouth.

“Do not be! I am cut off every day and this is my fifth sandwich!” You choked.

“Fifth?” You asked in disbelief. “Why so many?”

“One must consume lots of protein to enhance muscle growth.” Lee stated between bites, practically inhaling his giant meal. You leaned on the table, studying him closely.

“Yeah, I see you a lot around campus. You seem like you workout a lot.”

“All the time!” You let out a light laugh.

“I wish I had that kind of work ethic. I’m definitely less active than I want to be.”

“You should join me some time!” Lee chewed happily, “Or perhaps I could design a workout routine that best suits you.”

Rock Lee was definitely an odd one, but he was also… sweet. That’s about when you really took him in. Ignoring the green tracksuit proved to be a feat of its own, but you found yourself mentally brushing your fingers through his messy hair. You could read his excitement and passion for life in his wide eyes. You smiled at the way he ate. Nothing in front of you could possibly be anything that someone could dislike.

“That…” You paused, thinking back to the group gathered around the windows in the common room, but those thoughts were quickly shaken. “That sounds nice, Lee.”

Lee’s eyes lit up once again. A certain warmth came to you each time you saw him become excited. He rattled off his schedule and you exchanged yours. You didn’t have any classes together in the current semester, but as the conversation progressed, you found yourself excited at the prospect of spending time with him.

The both of you got up  every once in a while to grab more snacks but ultimately settled back into your same seats. And like that, a five minute conversation turned into a two hour conversation. The time was around eight when you decided that you should go. Leaving your dishes with the washers at the very end of the dining hall hours wouldn’t be very courteous, so the two of you headed back to the dorms together.

Rain poured from the sky and you flipped up the hood of your hoodie and braced for the wetness from above. It never hit you. Instead came a light pitter patter. Lee held the umbrella for the two of you.

“Thank you, Lee.” You smiled as you walked. Puddles splashed under your boots but the weather remained light. Lee’s face shone under the lamplight. “So, is your real name ‘Rock’? Or is that just a nickname?” A bashful smile overtook his lips.

“It is my real name. You see, every member of my family is named after music. Just as an example, my father’s name is Blues and I am Rock.”

“I like that,” You told him softly, “That’s unique. It must be nice to have that kind of connection with your family.”

“It is.” You were too busy staring at Lee to realize that you both had reached the dorm. He swiped his ID and held the door open for you. You pushed the button to the elevator as he wrapped up his umbrella.

“Lee,'' You pursed your lips. As you pushed the buttons to your respective floors. You looked into his innocent, expecting eyes. You hesitated and the elevator opened to the third floor. You held it open with your foot. “I just thought that you should know that people tend to, well… I thought you should know that some people from our building have been poking fun at you.”

“Oh yes! We do live in the same building!” He gave out a loud, jolly laugh. Red tinted his cheeks. “How did I not notice this? What a funny coincidence!”

“Did you hear what I said?” Lee paused. His features softened.

“I appreciate you telling me, but I do not care.” The serious look didn’t stay for long. His usual positivity and determination quickly enveloped him again.

“You don’t?”

“Why would I care about what people think of me bettering myself?” You inwardly kicked yourself, suddenly feeling very small. Embarrassment burned within you.

“Wow, I never thought of it like that before.” You met his eyes, but you quickly looked away. “You really are something, Lee.”

“The best person you can be is yourself.” Lee smiled, fully stepping off the elevator. You matched his grin and withdrew your hand, letting the door close.

“Goodnight!”

“Goodnight, Lee.”

Notes: Out of all my fics this one is most based on real life. But, in this scenario I was the Rock Lee in the top section. I make it a point to maintain muscle and take care of myself. I wouldn’t say I’m Rock Lee levels of fit, but I used to get made fun of for going on runs in the quad all the time. The conversation Lee has with Reader by the elevator is near the same conversation I had with someone on my floor. 

The second section Rock Lee in the dining room was loosely based on a friend of mine who has since transferred. He actually did offer to make me a workout routine when I first started getting into fitness and would get those huge sandwiches multiple times a day. It was to the point where the sandwich makers would recognize him and know his order. 

I hope you enjoyed!

[mulderist]

Five Times Mulder Got Scully Coffee, And One Time He Didn’t

MSR || 2k words || @today-in-fic

A/N: I wrote this on the fly based on a post about types of intimacy including knowing your partner’s coffee order.

1 “we leave for the very plausible state of Oregon at 8 a.m.”

It was her first assignment with Spooky Mulder; a crisp Wednesday morning in September. From the backseat she checked her boarding pass once more while the taxi arrived at Dulles International. The red-orange sunrise broke through the distinct wing-like architecture of the main terminal building. The driver idled then popped the trunk and hoisted out her carry-on letting the wheels click to the pavement. She knew she over packed. She thanked him and adjusted the strap on her leather satchel as the cab pulled into the congested river of departure drop-offs. 

The sliding doors opened with a breeze of recirculated air and she paused to let a cluster of businessmen pass by. She scanned the corridor and saw Mulder hovering near the escalators, a duffle bag at his feet. He was wearing a smart light blue shirt with a striped tie. She grinned at the fact that his dark grey suit jacket didn’t fully match his lighter dress pants. On her approach she noticed a particular boyish charm to the curl of his hair. He caught her eye and gave a wave. She quickly smiled and shifted her shoulder bag once again while she pulled her carry-on behind her.

“Good morning sunshine,” he stated while balancing two cups in a flimsy caddy, “I hope you don’t mind but I grabbed some coffee.”

“Thank you, Mulder.” She was genuinely surprised. He set the caddy down on the lid of the square trash can and pulled out a cup, handing it to her.

“How do you take it?”

“Uh, just cream and sugar.” Mulder fished around in the middle of the caddy and found her accoutrements. She slowly removed the lid and doctored up her drink. 

“Not too early for you is it?” He asked after taking a sip from his cup.

“Reminds me of residency,” she said, shaking her head with a smile and pouring a splash of cream. “The line between late night and early morning was pretty hard to differentiate at times.”

“I find it’s when I’m my most productive. However the T.V. choices leave a lot to be desired,” he said with a shrug, reaching down for his well-travelled duffle bag. He unzipped it and pulled out a folder.

“Is this my debriefing?” Scully asked.

“A little light reading for the flight,” Mulder replied, watching her tuck the documents in the pocket of her shoulder bag. “C’mon, looks like we’re at the C gates.” She followed him down the corridor and to the entrance of the shuttles.    

2 “I’ve heard the truth, Mulder. Now what I want are the answers.”

He offered to drive her home. She was exhausted but insisted she was fine. He squeezed her hand when she left to go find her car in the hospital parking deck. 

Restlessness had set in when he arrived at home. Eyes darted to his cell phone on the desk, making sure he hadn’t missed a call. She’d call if she needed to. He shuffled through a stack of files he took from the office, looking for a particular case that matched a tip from Frohike. He flipped it open and returned to the computer keyboard, adding to the paragraph he was working on. The TV droned on in the background, coffee finished its brew cycle in the tiny kitchen. 

Three taps on the door. He turned down the TV and listened then heard three more. He walked across the room and peered into the peephole then quickly flipped the lock and opened the door 

“Hi,” she began, “I’m sorry I didn’t call.” She sucked her lower lip. “I couldn’t sleep.”

“Come in,” he said stepping aside. She exhaled and slowly entered his apartment, brushing a wave of hair behind her ear. He quickly stacked his work and moved the pillows on the couch. She took a seat, fingers knitted tightly together in her lap. Her eyes closed as she climatized to his space. He gave her a minute and stepped into the kitchen. When returned she had pulled her hand away from her face, gracefully dabbing at her eye with her knuckle. He set two mugs down on the table and joined her. 

“If you want to talk..”

“I don’t,” she said curtly, not intending to sound that short with him. “Not..not yet.” Her anger was still fresh. She was a raw nerve. He pressed his lips together and was patient. He had all the time in the world for her. Another slow exhale to steady herself and she reached for a mug. Cream and sugar. Warmth from the ceramic radiated against her hand; she felt another wave ready to break. He saw the downturn and gently took the mug from her, placing it next to his. She fought so hard but reluctantly crumbled. He embraced her; a shelter from the storm.

3 “Oh I don’t know Mulder, some things are better left unexplained.”

“So tell me more about this talking doll you found,” Mulder stated. Scully swallowed her bite of food and blinked at him.

“I never said it was a talking doll, Mulder. And besides, that was weeks ago, why are you still hung up on it?” He tossed the brown end of a french fry back into the bag and licked the salt from his thumb. 

“Color me jealous.” 

She stuffed a napkin in the empty fry container and added it to the trash on the table.

“Please tell me this hasn’t kept you up at night.”

“Not more so than usual,” he said with a shrug collecting their fast food wrappers. They left the outdoor seating area and started to walk down E Street. The lunch dates were a little more frequent than before. Her remission and recovery brought them closer together. Scully didn’t want to assume he missed her when she took a well-deserved weekend to herself but Mulder was shit at hiding how clingy he could be. It was all part of the process. He tapped the back of her arm and pointed at a coffee shop window. She agreed and he held the door. The wonderful aroma of roasted beans and steamed milk hit her senses. She peeked at the bakery case as he went to place their order. Mulder soon presented her with a cafe au lait and a wink. Her lips pursed as she blew on it. His gaze shifted to the perfect “o” of her mouth complimented by a subtle glossy lip tint. He then proceeded to burn his tongue as he eagerly went to drink his Sumatra roast, snapping him back to reality.

4 “Get over here, Scully”

The lights in the office were dim. He had set-up the slideshow reel to provide visual aid to a fairly vague case detail. However the only detail he was concerned with at the moment was the taste of her lips. A hint of honey from her lip balm, the whisper of milky coffee. Their cups grew cold and lonely sitting on his desk while they turned up the heat hiding amongst the shadows. 

She was needy and pulled no punches. Hand rested firmly against his cheek as tongues danced and twisted. His stubble coarse against her fingertips. Last night at the ball field had ignited a spark. Remembering the feeling of his hands on her hips, cheek to cheek in the cool night air. His weight against her with each swing of the bat. He held her close once again; entwined together in a dark corner of the basement office.

“Remind me to bore you with slideshows more often,” he said, catching his breath. A warm smile crossed his face as he admired her. 

“Shut up, Mulder,” she said before kissing him once again.  

     5 “What if there was only one choice and all the other ones were wrong?”

Three weeks had passed. Scully discovered she was leaving small items behind; a toothbrush, a sweatshirt, a travel sized hairbrush. Evening was still the preferred time of day. Dinner, maybe a beer or a glass of wine followed by ignoring the T.V. Mulder knew just the right amount of pressure to put on the tired muscles of her neck. A rush of circulation flowed through her. She leaned back against his chest and his hands wandered followed by his lips. She loved how he tenderly nipped at her earlobe, He was hard against her lower back and she worked her advantage between his legs. Clothes were shed like new skin. He was swift to carry her from the couch into more comfortable surroundings. 

The linens held her scent, the walls held their cries. Deep and passionate. Primal. Two become one. He broke first and she was quick to chase him down. Chest heaving, muscles aching in the best way. They lay together as heart rates slowed. He traced her jawline, a thumb laid claim to her full lower lip. Lust-laden eyes blinked heavily. She decided to stay. Naked, satisfied, and loved.

Morning arrived with a deep yellow glow. She slowly shook off her slumber and reached beside her, feeling an empty bed. Her ear perked up listening for the shower but heard nothing. She slid to his side of the bed and glanced at the clock. Two hours before work. Her hand clutched the bedclothes to her chest and she heard keys hit the wood table in the other room. Mulder nudged the bedroom door open. Scully smiled and ran a hand through her hair, sitting upright. 

“Morning,” she said. He approached and kissed the top of her head. 

“I got us some coffee. Cream and sugar, of course.”

“You’re too good to me,” she said before realizing it. There was always so much unspoken between them. Affection was a given but rarely vocalized; arousal and desire usually won out. They operated well without words. She blushed and swung her legs over the edge of the bed tucking the sheet closer. 

“Hey. I wouldn’t have it any other way,” he said. 

6 “We will find him -- I have to.”

She needed an out. It was too much too fast and the fuel from her anger was on fumes. Scully dried her hands on the edge of her jacket and stormed down the corridor towards the elevator. That might have been the first time she actually threw a drink at someone. A bit dramatic but she would deal with that later, right now she needed to leave. 

   Her cell phone chirped and she promptly ignored it. The car shuddered as it idled in the parking deck, her head lay back against the headrest, a hand on her belly. She fought against an angry sob. The caller was persistent. She tried to collect herself. Another series of rings and she finally answered.

“Agent Scully? It’s Skinner.”

“Sir?”

“Where are you right now?”

“I’m on my way home. Is something the matter?” she questioned.

“You tell me,” Skinner replied with concern. She closed her eyes and slowly caressed her belly once again. He was the only one she could trust right now. He was trying to be a friend. She exhaled and asked if he could meet her in Georgetown.

Scully sat down at a familiar cafe with small outdoor tables nervously fidgeting with her phone. She didn’t want to deal with the questions, she just wanted to find him. She wanted to talk to him about what was going on and they could figure things out together. She needed to find him. Her attention shifted as a couple walked past with a friendly golden retriever. The animal bumped its nose into her leg then happily licked her hand before it’s owners chuckled and led him back down the sidewalk.

Skinner arrived and set down two cups of coffee along with a handful of sugar packets.

“I got you decaf.” he said sincerely as he took a seat, “hope that’s alright.”

“That’s fine. Thanks,” she said, reaching for the cup then removing the lid and adding half a sugar packet. Her heart ached and she was sure Skinner could see it. He was quiet, not wanting to overstep his boundaries.

“I uh, I just want you to know that I’m your ally in all of this. And if you need to talk…” he trailed off when he saw the change in her expression. She pressed her lips together.

“That means a lot, sir. Thank you.” She brushed away an errant tear and swallowed hard. They had much to discuss.

[cali-holland]

Worst Kept Secret- Tom Holland One Shot

Pairing: Tom Holland X Osterfield!Reader

Prompt: Sam gave Tom one job, but Harry and Harrison’s gossip leads to the worst kept secret and the biggest miscommunication in history...

Word Count: 3500

Warnings: swearing, mentions of sex

Based on: “The Ring” from Last Man Standing (absolutely iconic episode)

a/n: sam’s girlfriend’s name is el right? tbh i don’t keep up with sam’s relationship because privacy

Masterlist   Tom Holland Masterlist

*Pic is not mine*

~~~

“Okay, what’s wrong?” Tom asked as he sat down across from Sam in the corner of the coffee shop. It wasn’t often that Sam asked to meet with Tom alone; in fact, it had never happened before, and, needless to say, the older boy was concerned.

“Why does something have to be wrong?” Sam rebutted, but he knew there was no hiding his nervousness from his brother. Tom didn’t even need to say anything before he continued, fidgeting with the plastic cup, “I, um, well, I want to ask El to marry me.”

“Really?” Tom’s eyebrows raised in excitement. He smiled proudly at his younger brother, “That’s amazing. I’m so happy for you.”

“The thing is,” He paused, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small ring box. He opened it up, showing Tom the extravagant diamond ring, nestled in the middle. “I haven’t asked permission yet.”

“You mean you got a ring and you haven’t even-“

“No, I haven’t. I’m going to talk to her dad this afternoon, but I just- can you hold onto it for me? I feel like El will find it.” Sam closed the box and extended it out to Tom, who carefully slipped it into his pocket.

“Have you told Harry and Paddy yet? They’ll be thrilled. I bet mum and dad were so happy when you told them.” Tom said, his smile growing wider at the thought of his family cheering on Sam’s big announcement.

“I haven’t told anyone yet. I wanted to get her dad’s permission first and then propose. I don’t want anyone else to know because what if she doesn’t say yes? We’re only 21, but-“

“Hey, she’s going to say yes.” He cut off his younger brother’s rambling, his eyes full of reassurance, “El loves you, she’d be crazy not to say yes.”

“Thanks, I just- I’m so nervous over it all.” Sam paused, running a worried hand through his hair, “Have you and Y/N talked about it at all?”

“A little.” Tom shrugged slightly. You two had been together for over two years now and you had been living with Tom (and your brother Harrison, Harry, and Tuwaine) for the past several months, but the topic of marriage wasn’t something that was brought up. Tom knew you were his future, you were all he ever wanted; the thought of actually proposing had just never crossed his mind.

“Y/N can’t know about this either.”

“Of course.” He nodded, “I won’t tell anyone, I promise.”

And Tom fully intended on keeping that promise. He kept the ring box hidden in his jeans drawer because that was the one drawer that he knew you didn’t even bother looking in. Since you lived together, you both had a “what’s mine is yours” mentality, especially when it came to Tom’s clothes. He didn’t mind that you’d wear his shirts, his hoodies, his sweats or even his underwear sometimes as pajama pants- he loved it when you wore his clothes. But you didn’t wear his jeans, so that made it the safest place to hide the ring.

Or so he thought. 

Harry was missing his favorite pair of jeans, and he knew that they had just been through the wash. He also knew that Tom had a bad habit of accidentally taking his brother’s clothes.

“Where are they?” Harry grumbled, digging through Tom’s jeans drawer. He knew you and Tom were out to pick up lunch for everyone, so it was perfect timing for him to scavenge through his brother’s room- as siblings do. He smiled triumphantly as he pulled his pair of jeans from the drawer. Just as he was about to shut it, a little box caught his eye. Curious, Harry picked up the box and shook it a little. When no sound came from the velvet box, he opened it up, just to drop it in surprise.

“Holy shit.” He picked up the ring box again and examined the diamond ring. His heart was racing; he couldn’t believe that Tom was going to propose. He wondered why his older brother hadn’t said anything about it. If Tom didn’t even tell Harry, did he tell Harrison? Was your brother aware of Tom’s plan? He heard the familiar sound of Tom’s car pulling into the driveway and Harry quickly hid the box under the jeans and closed the drawer. Grabbing his pair of jeans, he rushed out of the bedroom and into his room.

“Harry, lunch!” Tom called out for his brother from the kitchen. You sat down comfortably in Tom’s lap at the dining room table, and he gave you a kiss, wrapping his arms around your waist. Harrison fake gagged, sitting across from you two.

“You’re just jealous.” You teased your brother, throwing a small french fry at him. Tuwaine scooted away from Harrison, not wanting to get caught in a food fight between siblings as he continued to eat his lunch.

“No, it’s gross.” Harrison said, eating the fry before taking a massive bite out of the hamburger.

“Yeah, sure this is gross.” You jokingly rolled your eyes at him before biting into your own burger. Tom rested one hand on your hip, eating his lunch with rather large bites just as well. When Harry came downstairs, all he could think about was the ring box hiding upstairs. Seeing you and Tom cuddled up, sharing your food with each other, he felt a sense of reassurance wash over him. You made Tom so happy, and Harry was happy at the thought of you becoming an official Holland.

It wasn’t until a couple hours later when you and Tom left to take Tessa on a walk that Harry worked up the courage to bring it up to Harrison. He was certain that Tom would ask for your brother’s permission before buying a ring, but he was so wrong.

“He what?” Harrison asked, eyes wide. Tuwaine let out a laugh at his best friend’s reaction to Harry’s words.

“He bought a ring. I thought he would’ve said something to you.” Harry said, his eyebrows furrowed. He couldn’t tell how his friend was feeling; was Harrison upset? Angry? Frustrated? Did he not want to give Tom permission to marry you? The main question resting on Harry’s mind was why would Tom keep this such a big secret- you all live together?

“No, Tom didn’t tell me he bought a ring.” Your brother replied. He looked over at Tuwaine, who just shrugged nonchalantly.

“I didn’t know he got one either.” He admitted.

“Look, at it this way, you’ll be our brother officially now.” Harry offered with a small laugh, trying to ease the tension.

“I’m not mad.” Harrison said, running a hand through his blond hair, “I just didn’t expect it. I mean Tom asked me for permission before he asked Y/N out and he made sure I was okay with her moving in. He’s always asked me before doing anything. It’s just weird that he wouldn’t tell me that he bought a ring.”

“It’s a big step, maybe he’s just nervous and wants to wait to announce it to everyone?” Tuwaine suggested.

“Ah, shit.” He sighed, a new thought crossing his mind, “Tom’s taking Y/N out tomorrow night to that really nice restaurant- the one they went to on their first date. He was just telling me about it.”

“He’s really proposing then.” Harry breathed out, a smile appearing on his face. His brother was going to propose to you tomorrow.

“I thought it was because she just got a promotion at work, but guess he’s got other intentions.”

The conversation was cut short as the front door opened and laughter from you and Tom filled the air. Tessa came bounding into the living room, happily seeking pets from Harry.

“Look what we got!” You smiled, proudly, holding up a plastic bag from a store.

“That new candy store down the street finally opened.” Tom said eagerly as you dumped the contents of the bag on the coffee table.

“Ring pops are still a thing?” Harrison asked with a laugh when he noticed the disproportionate amount of ring pops compared to other candy. “You used to eat these all the time.”

“‘Cause they’re good!” You replied, grabbing one of them. The boys helped themselves to candy as you enjoyed your ring pop. You slipped the ring pop on your left ring finger, seeing as that was the only finger that was suitable for the plastic band. You didn’t notice how that simple action was spotted by both Harry and Harrison.

The next day, Tom went out on his morning jog (which he wouldn’t tell anyone that really it was giving Sam the ring back) as you made breakfast for the household in the kitchen. Harrison was abnormally silent when he came into the kitchen. Usually, he’d talk to you about everything and anything while you made food and he drank some tea, but today, something was off.

“Everything alright?” You asked him, looking up from the sausage on the stove over to your brother sitting at the island, hunched over a steaming mug.

“Just thinking.” He shrugged lightly. He didn’t even look at you when he spoke, yet another dead giveaway to you that something was up with your brother.

“What is it? You know you can tell me anything.” You said softly.

“Tom’s gonna propose.” He blurted out. Your jaw dropped at his words, unsure how to process this new information. At your odd silence, Harrison finally looked up to make eye contact with you. He stood from his seat and went over to pull you in for a tight hug, “I’m sorry, I ruined it.”

“No, no, I just-“ You stepped out of the hug and let out a confused sigh before a hopeful smile found its way onto your face. “He’s really going to propose?”

“Harry found the ring yesterday, and with tonight-“

“Oh my god.” You breathed out, realizing the weight of tonight. Why didn’t you see it sooner- Tom insisted on going to a nice restaurant for dinner and that restaurant was the same one from your first date.

“Just don’t say anything before tonight, he’s planned this all out.” Your brother pleaded, and you nodded understandingly.

“I won’t.” You agreed, turning back to the stove to continue cooking.

Later that day, you nervously got ready for your big date with Tom. Sure, you two had date night almost weekly, but he was proposing, it was more than just a date night. You made sure your nails, makeup, and hair was perfect and ready for any pictures. You didn’t want to sound vain, you just wanted to be prepared for the big question.

“You ready, darling?” Tom asked you as he put on his shoes.

“How do I look?” You emerged from the bathroom, a wide smile on your face. You did a little twirl in your little black dress and he smiled, approvingly.

“You’re gorgeous, as always.” He stood from the bed and pulled you in for a quick kiss.

“I just need my shoes.” You said, sitting down on the edge of the bed and putting on your heels. Once you finished, you stood and grabbed his hand, “Got everything?”

“Yeah,” He replied, a little confused by your question. What would he need besides his keys, phone, and wallet?

Your seats in the restaurant were in the far corner, mostly secluded and away from any prying eyes if anyone noticed Tom. It was sweet, having a nice dinner with just the two of you, but you couldn’t help the uneasiness you felt as the night went on. Tom made it feel like any other date night. Was Harrison wrong? What if Tom didn’t want to propose to you?

After dinner and dessert, Tom drove the two of you home and you felt your heart drop in disappointment. Nothing, no question, no ring. You didn’t even see the rest of the boys when you got home, you immediately went to get ready for bed. 

Tom was confused himself; he had thought it was a nice night, a great celebratory date night for your latest promotion at work. And now you were abnormally quiet and seemingly rushing to go to bed. There were no passionate post-date kisses that led to passionate post-date sex. He didn’t say anything though, thinking that maybe you were just tired or not feeling well- both of which often made you go quiet. He got changed into his pajama bottoms and climbed into bed beside you. He couldn’t help but frown as you settled for a spooning position with him as the big spoon. He loved to fall asleep with you on his chest; something was wrong and he didn’t have any idea what he did to upset you.

The next day, Tom woke up to you already gone and out of bed. He pouted, getting up to go find you. He found you downstairs, quietly talking to Harrison in the kitchen. When he came in, the conversation dropped and you greeted him with a small, “good morning” before taking a long sip of your coffee.

“Good morning,” He smiled, greeting you and Harrison. He gave you a quick peck on the cheek before fixing himself a cup of tea. “Did you not sleep well?”

“Hm?” You hummed as you got out some eggs from the fridge to make yourself (and Tom) breakfast. You may have been disappointed from last night, but you weren’t going to starve your boyfriend who couldn’t cook.

“You’re drinking coffee.” He pointed out, “You only drink coffee when you don’t sleep well.” You wanted to cry, damn him for knowing your coffee and tea preferences so well, but for not realizing the problem from last night.

“I don’t think the food sat well with me last night.” You explained and he nodded. He looked over at Harrison while you were distracted by the stove and his friend simply shrugged his shoulders and left the room quietly. Tom knew the two of you better than that though; he knew something was wrong with you and he knew Harrison knew exactly what it was.

“So, Sam’s invited us around for lunch today. It’s a family lunch.” Tom stated, trailing off a little as he expected you to come with him.

“I promised Charlotte I’d go out with her today.” You replied, and he held back his frown. He didn’t know you had arranged anything with your sister.

“Oh, okay.” He mumbled, a bit hurt from your separate plans.

Breakfast went on quietly, and you felt bad about it, but you didn’t know what to do. Tom had planned out such a perfect proposal date, and yet here you were with nothing on your left hand. You just hated this feeling of disappointment.

Tom and Harry left later on to go to the Holland house for lunch, and you were left in your own pity. You didn’t want to see Tom’s family, not today at least, and so you had lied about your plans with your sister, and Harrison knew it too, but he wasn’t going to say anything to Tom. He was just about as disappointed as you were.

“You okay?” Harrison asked, his blue eyes sad as he walked into the living room to see you laying on the couch, staring at the ceiling.

“I don’t know.” Your voice was quiet, almost broken, as you spoke. You sat up and your brother came to sit beside you.

“Are you going to be okay?” He changed his question.

“It’s just disappointing, I guess. I mean I want to marry him, but we haven’t really talked about marriage. We’ve only ever just acknowledged that we want a future together.” You said, picking at your nails. You did them specifically for last night, it wasn’t worth it to have them done now. “I love him, though, and it shouldn’t matter how or when or even if we get engaged.”

“Want me to talk to him?” He offered, but you shook your head.

“It’s fine. I’ll talk to him.”

Meanwhile, when Tom arrived at the Holland house, he got pulled aside into the kitchen by his mother away from his brothers. He was asked immediately where you were, your absence didn’t go unnoticed by the matriarch.

“She’s doing something with her sister. It was super last minute.” He explained weakly, still upset over how this morning went.

“Is everything alright?” She asked in concern.

“I don’t know. We went out on a nice date last night, and she just seemed upset afterwards. She hasn’t said much to me since we got home last night.”

“What did you do?” Nikki immediately accused and he held up his hands defensively.

“I didn’t do anything. I pulled out her chair, I paid, I gave her my jacket, I was a gentleman and somehow something went wrong.” He sighed in frustration.

“Talk to her, okay?” She ran a comforting hand on his back for a moment. Tom helped his mother serve the food on their dining room table. His face lit up when Sam and El came into the room, he knew Sam had proposed last night and Tom was more than excited to hear the news.

Before they ate, everyone sat around the table and Sam cleared his throat nervously.

“So, I’ve got an announcement.” He started with an eager smile. He wrapped an arm around his fiancee’s shoulders, “We’re engaged!”

El held up her left hand, which she had been hiding previously, and showed off the new ring on her finger. Various cheers came from Tom, Paddy, and his parents, but Harry’s excitement was lost as he looked at the ring, recognizing it from Tom’s bedroom.

“What the fuck?” Harry muttered, furrowing his eyebrows in confusion. The room fell silent as Harry grabbed her hand, eyes scanning over the ring.

“That’s a weird way to say ‘congrats, Sam. Can I be best man?’” Sam joked lightly and his twin turned to Tom, eyeing him suspiciously.

“Tom, isn’t that your ring?” Harry accused.

“You told me you wouldn’t tell anyone!” The newly engaged Holland groaned.

“I didn’t! Why the hell do you think that’s mine?” Tom questioned.

“It was in your room, in your drawer.” Harry stated, and Tom’s face fell.

“You didn’t- you didn’t tell Y/N, did you?” He asked. He swore his heart stopped as he waited for his brother’s reply.

“No. I only told Harrison and Tuwaine. I thought you were proposing to Y/N, so I assumed you told Harrison.” He explained.

“Fuck!” Tom shouted. If Harrison knew then you definitely knew; and if Harrison thought that it was a ring for you then you definitely thought that.

“What is it?” Paddy asked, trying to keep up with the odd drama between his brothers.

“I fucked up,” was all Tom could manage to get out before he grabbed his shoes and took off from the house.

It all made sense to him now. Harrison had told you that he was going to propose, and you thought he’d propose on your date last night. You weren’t upset about what Tom did, you were upset about what he didn’t do. And no wonder he didn’t know you had plans with your sister today because you didn’t really have plans, you just wanted to be alone. Tom hurried home and burst through the front door to find you, laying on the couch, eating a ring pop and scrolling through your phone.

“Tom? I thought you were at lunch.” You said, sitting il and suddenly feeling guilty that you’d been caught in your lie about your sister.

“I’m so stupid, I’m so sorry.” Tom rushed into the living room. He knelt down in front of your spot on the couch. “It wasn’t my ring. It was Sam’s.”

“You mean Sam and El-“ You smiled as he nodded, happy for the now engaged couple.

“He wanted me to hold onto the ring for a couple days and not tell anyone until after he proposed. I didn’t think you or the boys would find it, and I definitely didn’t think that it’d look like I was proposing.”

“It’s okay. I was disappointed last night, and I’m sorry, too. I should have just told you why I was upset, but I love you and I don’t care that you haven’t proposed. I just want to be with you, married or not.”

“But I want to marry you,” Tom held your left hand in his and carefully slid the ring pop off your finger. “Y/N Osterfield, will you make me the happiest man in the world and marry me?”

“Yes,” You laughed as he put the ring pop back on your finger. He pulled you in for a passionate kiss, the fingers of his right hand intertwining with your left hand, mindful of the sticky ring pop.

“Now I need to get you a ring, one that isn’t edible.”

[phoenixfire-thewizardgoddess]

Concept: RED Spy is down, his watch damaged and the knife blasted from his hand by a clever strike from a BLU. His ribs ache from the force of being hurled bodily into the unforgiving soil of Teufort’s rocky ground, and he grits his teeth into a snarl. 

He can fight without his knife, he lived this long as a Spy prior to this whole mess of a contract... but it would not be easy. His ankle feels damaged, twisting as he rolled and Spy curses at the misfortune; still, his arms were hale enough to enact a chokehold when the opportunity arose. 

The sun disappears as looming shadows block the light, and hearty chuckles linger in the air, the malice behind the sound sending a shudder through the espionage agent. He understood, this was... well, it was personal to a degree, if he had a downed BLU then of course he would think nothing of enacting some quick revenge for a past death/insult.

But it was also their job. He hoped to take at least one down with him, if possible... but it would not be the end of the world to die here and now, later he could hunt them down and delight in the gurgled screams as his butterfly knife pierced their spinal columns. 

Blood dribbled slowly from the shallow indentations in his bottom lip wheren a few teeth had pierced accidentally during the heavy impact. Spy’s tongue darted out automatically to catch it, equally thrilled and revolted by the taste of the coppery substance... 

He grunts as a heavy Texan boot digs into his side, and two voices laugh uproariously as if the world’s wittiest joke had just been exchanged. They would pay for tha-...

His vision flashes sharply a second later, pain radiating through his face like an explosion as a steel-capped boot makes contact; without even consciously registering it, Spy knows his nose is broken. That was a sensation he had become all too familiar with in the past. 

He cries out as something heavy crunches down on his legs, efectively trapping him. 

“Aw, don’t be such a wuss Spah, I manage to carry that around when it’s full all’a the time!” the BLU engineer coos, his expression worryingly unhinged, though not unfamiliar... the RED Engineer had made the same face a truly disconcerting number of times in the past. 

Indeed, the toolbox weighed more than one would suspect, and if his ankle had not been shattered before, it certainly was now. There was only one solution, if he could but find it... where was his-...? 

“Oh laddie, don’t go looking for your pretty little pistol... our spook went and knicked that when ye blacked out for a second, like the delicate little crossaint ye are.” BLU Demo taunted, crouching down over the RED. 

Spy did not recall blacking out, but that’s not generally a good sign...

“You are, as ever, outclassed here, mon frier.” came a smug voice so like his own that it irritated to no end, as the BLU Spy faded into visibility.

If this had been the first death of the day, or even the twelfth, then perhaps he would not have stopped trying to find a solution. Beady blue eyes darting subtly around until some ingenious escape plan came to light and he could be freed from this mess...

But it wasn’t, and he was so, so very tired. Between the Pyro, Sniper and a number of rather lucky swipes from the BLU Medic, Spy had been dying all day long. He would love for this to end quickly... but given the location, and the unlikelihood of help arriving in time to curb the enthusiasm of the currently losing team surrounding him... Spy felt that things were not in his favour this day.

Hovering gently across the room, the intel gleamed innocuously, cruelly. A beacon that lured them all to their deaths day in, day out on these damn capture the flag campaigns; a beloved sight for both the teams’ benefactors. 

And so they died, day after day, for nothing more than a glowing briefcase with an ever-changing array of useless paper inside. Why, last week there had been a recipe for some fried chicken with eleven herbs and spices... useless, though Engineer had been eager to try it, as had another fried chicken afficiando on the team. 

The week before? A number of magazines, a short story about some science fiction show he was certain may have been written by one of the Pyros, and a crudely drawn map to different households that Spy could not make heads or tails of...

A slap snapped him back to reality, sending fresh waves of sizzling pain through his face as the damage to his nose once again took his full focus. 

“Looks as if he’s back with us again.” BLU Spy said, radiating smugness from every pore as he flicked out his knife with unnecessary flourishes. “Good evening Monsieur, seeing as you will be staying with us for some time, I would hope you will be an obbliging guest... and not miss out on the festivities. Such as,” he said, pointing the blade directly at a blue pupil, “when I remove your eye from its socket, hmmm?”

“Hey, I called dibs on ‘im first boyo.” BLU Demo exclaims, swatting at the blade-wielding hand, and trying not to look too pleased as it scored a deep groove across Spy’s face. Spy hisses at him through clenched teeth, loathing the man. “He needs those eyes to see what ol’ eyelander and I are gonna do tae him, aye?” 

“Just don’t go hogging him, I’ve had to rebuild a dozen sentries today because of him. Not to mention my back’s achin’ somethin’ fierce from all the damn backstabbing the little red weasel’s gotten away with.” BLU Engie interjected, groaning as he stretched, fingers and spine making awful audible pops. The man flexed his gloved hand and the mechanical whirring sent chill straight down the Spy’s spine. “Now see, I’m thinkin’ that fair’s fair only if’n I get to pull yours right on out of that body of yours. Whatcha think about that, you filthy RED?”

It would technically fall under ‘fair’, but not anything Spy particularly wanted to experience. Before he could open his mouth in his own defence, with a smooth ‘Gentlemen, please...’ the mechanical fist slammed in from the side. Bile rose automatically in his throat at the sensation of a tooth dislodging and blood filling his mouth. The BLUs seemed wildly unhinged today, beyond their normal bloodlust... but they had lost all week long, so they may be getting sanctions and penalties from the Administrator.

His head whirled. When was the last time he’d had more than a few hours sleep this week? The last time he drank some actual water or ate something substantial? Maybe he wouldn’t be in this mess if he’d not insisted on skipping the team lunch during ceasefire, in order to do some covert surveillance in the enemy intel. 

Consciousness flickered. 

There were delighted but angry voices jabbering back and forth about ‘waiting their turn’, and ‘going a little easy to start because the french fry had to last’...

And then, there was screaming.

It was almost like a bad horror movie, with the sounds of screaming, crunching and swearing flickering in and out. Little snippets of a full scene that he could not comprehend as his battered head swam...

In the sudden silence, loud and grotesque for the heaviness of it, all that could be heard was a sharp, angry series of breaths.

Spy blinked frantically, trying to ascertain what had happened, trying to cling to the here and now when all his body & mind wished for was to give in to the swirling darkness. 

A figure coalesced before him, eyes seeming to glow with a feral light, body and bat completely splattered with blood and gore, expression half in shadow. 

“S-Sco-...?” Spy tried to get the word out around damaged molars and a outhful of blood. Everything throbbed, but the silence was a symphony of hope to his ears.

“Don’t worry, they won’t fuckin’ touch you again, Spy. I got ‘em.” growled an unusually serious Scout, his fist shaking around the bat’s handle. He seemed frozen, a figure in a portrait surrounded by the broken corpses of the BLUs, uncertain what to do next.

A wheezey exhalation from Spy seemed to snap the runner out of it, and he knelt to shove against the toolbox pinioning the espionage agent to the ground. It clunked to the ground with a heavy metallic finality, and Spy sighed at the sudden freedom. 

“Ya look like shit, Spook, so we gotta get ya out of here before those guys fall outta respawn lookin’ for revenge.”Scout says, mouth running while his eyes dart over the mess that the normally immaculate espionage agent made. He slips an arm under Spy and they slowly work the man into a sititng position.

Ankle’s definitely shattered, Spy notes with a true lack of enthusiasm.

“Scout... just prop me against the wall there and take the intel. Once it is secured, they cannot touch me anyway, as the humiliation round will keep me safe.” 

“And just who the fuck do you think you are ordering me about like that?” Scout objects, eyes never once leaving Spy’s face. 

“Someone who wants to win as much as I do?” Spy hazards.

Scout leans back on his haunces, crouched by Spy. He tilts his head, “Ya a real bastard, ya know that? I don’t care about the intel, we gotta get you outta here. But if it means that much to ya...”

In a frankly ridiculously fluid movement, Scout is up, across the room and back again before Spy could blink. The intel snapped to his back like a magnet.

Spy is hauled to his feet with minimal protestations, an arm over Scout’s shoulders and the runner’s other one about his waist. The majority of his bodyweight was resting on the runner, and Spy felt rather despondent about their chances of surviving like this.

He said so.

“The others are coming, don’t worry about it.” Scout grinned. 

Heavy machinegun fire could be heard above near the BLU spawn, along with delighted maniacal laughter. The REDs were here, and judging by the beeping of a sentry, they were spawncamping like no tomorrow.

“See? We got this. So don’t worry about it.” Scout shrugs as they begin the slow ascent up the corridor and hiopefully towards a dispenser. Spy lurching along and trying to think of other things as each jostling movement created little discomforts. 

In a momentary pause, he looks to the runner. “Merci, mon... fils.” 

The words felt too big for such a narrow corridor to hold all at once.

Scout laughed, half in delight and half from awkward nervousness. “Yeah, yeah, you better thank me. I saved ya butt in there!”

They continued hobbling towards the rest of RED for a long moment, before Scout said, looking anywhere but at Spy. “Don’t worry about it... Dad... I got ya.”

Spy could not help but smile through a mouth of bloody, broken teeth. Suddenly, the world felt a little brighter... 

The End

[to-star-lake]

ether [ pt. 3 ]

pairing | pjm/jjk x reader genre | angst, love triangle word count | 6.6k rating | M, 18+

You placed the large garment box gently on the floor of your apartment beside the couch and looked at it, wondering what to do.

You thought back to how pleasantly Jimin reacted to your telling him about Jungkook. The way he simply smiled and candidly admitted to you how he thought it was sweet that Jungkook finally confessed his feelings for you. How there was not a single ounce of judgement or anger to be found in his eyes, smiling sweetly.

But you thought of Jungkook, about how terribly he reacted to the possibility of you being with Jimin, at how he wanted to take things slow with you, to get it right. You bent down, carefully sliding the box under the couch, putting it out of your thoughts, deciding that you wouldn’t attend the event with Jimin. You wanted things to work out too, you wanted to do this right. And it would not be a good idea to antagonize Jungkook with something like this.

You walked into your bedroom, sliding your clothes off before deciding to take a bath. And when you were done, you slipped into your pajamas, and sat down at the edge of your bed, and saw the screen of your phone light up with an incoming text.

Taehyung: Yo, wanna get lunch tomorrow?

You thought about it for a moment, and returned to your text history and opened your messages with Jungkook.

Hey, Tae just invited me for lunch tomorrow. Would you wanna go?

You stared down at the words you wrote and wondered why you were nervous to ask this. You hit the back button a few times and made some edits.

Hey! Tae invited me for lunch tomorrow, you should come with!

Ugh, too peppy. You deleted everything and rewrote it again.

Hey, Tae just invited me for lunch tomorrow, do you wanna come with?

You held your breath and hit the little blue button to send, berating yourself in your head for obsessing over how to word a simple text. To your surprise, you saw three little dots pop up on the left hand side almost immediately.

Your phone buzzed in your hand and with a little whooshing sound, a reply came.

Jungkook: What time?

You smiled, quickly typing a response. Probably around 12-12:30?

Jungkook: I have a lot of stuff to do tomorrow, but I’ll let you know ok?

You felt your heart sink at this response and your hands dropped in your lap, but quickly felt silly for reacting this way. It’s not as though he’s saying no, he just has stuff he needs to do, probably errands or laundry, you rationalized in your head. You decided to try to not let it get to you and flipped over to Taehyung’s message, typing a response. Yep, sounds good. JK might come too.

Taehyung: Sweet. Yoongi’s coming too.

-

The restaurant Taehyung picked for lunch was absolutely packed when you arrived. You looked around at the bustling tables, waiters carrying large plates of food through the aisles, playing human dodgeball with the guests getting up and or sitting down.

“Y/N! Over here!”

You followed the sound of the voice, and saw Taehyung seated with Yoongi at a table in the back corner and you made your way over.

“Hey guys,” you greeted them as you took a seat in the booth beside Taehyung. “Yoongi, I haven’t seen you in so long, how have you been? I heard just got back from Spain, how was it?”

“It was lovely,” he responded simply. You smiled at this, Yoongi was always so straightforward. Not curt, but he always only said exactly what was necessary and not a word more. He was always a nice contrast to Taehyung, who’s constantly talking about some kind of nonsense or another.

“Where’s JK? I thought you said he was coming,” Taehyung asked as the waitress walked away with your menus after taking your orders.

“Oh, uh” you glanced down at your phone which you’d been clutching in your hand the whole morning, expecting a text from him. “He said he might, but he’s pretty busy today.”

“Sooo what’s going on there?”

You looked up and saw Taehyung staring at you, face resting against his hand, elbow propped up on the table, eyebrow raised.

“What?”

“What do you mean what?” he rolled his eyes. “You and JK? You and that guy you left with at the bar on Friday? Spill.”

You took a sip of one of the bloody marys the waitress brought over for the table and told Taehyung and Yoongi everything from the past two days.

“So then he gives me this giant Chanel box, I haven’t opened it yet, but I guess since Jungkook and I talked, I don’t think I’m gonna go with Jimin to that event. But I thought things would be great since JK and I talked about us, you know? So I asked him to come out to lunch today, but he’s doing that thing again, where he’s being distant. He hasn’t said anything to me at all today...what?” you looked up to see Taehyung’s brows wrinkled in a frown at you.

“Y/N, babe,” he reached out and patted your hand condescendingly. “What’s wrong with playing the field?” he lifted his hands up, shrugging his shoulders. “On the one hand, you’ve got JK, who you finally found out that after years of you liking him, he likes you too. On the other hand, you have this guy who is rich as fuck, who’s driving you around in a McLaren P1, buying you expensive things, and asking you out to fancy dates? What the hell’s wrong with you, what’s that depressed look on your face for? Just enjoy it! Yoongi, back me up here!” he gestured at a quiet Yoongi, who sat across from the two of you, listening while taking sips of black coffee, saying nothing.

“Tae, that doesn’t help. Look, I want to commit to something with JK since we talked, but it’s just- I don’t know, I still feel like something’s off, like he’s saying all the right things, but he’s still being distant-”

“Why do you like JK?” you heard Yoongi say.

You looked at him, astonished that he’s actually participating in this conversation, the type of conversation he would normally prefer to stay out of because it was ‘shenanigans.’

“Well, I mean, I’ve liked him since college..”

“That’s not why you like him.”

“I know,” you pursed your lips, thinking. “He’s gets me. He’s a perfect complement to me. I’m a bit messy, and he’s super neat. I work off my gut, and he’s deliberate and methodical. And he always seems to know exactly what I need - a chill night in, just sitting on the couch eating junk food, or watching a sad movie just to cry it out.”

“Mhmm, and do you like this Jimin?” Yoongi asked, taking another sip of his coffee.

“I mean..I do..I did,” you quickly corrected, staring down at your plate of food, pushing a french fry around.

“And why do you like him?”

You thought about this for a moment. Yoongi’s question brought to mind images of Jimin’s eyes, smiling sweetly at you from behind strands of his silver hair being blown by the breeze, shimmering in the afternoon sun, holding onto your hand, laughing his infectious laugh.

“He’s so...light..” you began. “I feel..everything’s just so easy with him, he’s so light, he’s always smiling, always laughing. Even when something is serious, he has such a childlike and bright-eyed disposition towards it…he makes me want to run around in the grass with him and just laugh all day..” You looked up to see Yoongi looking down at the cup of coffee in front of him, his hand lingering on the handle.

“Y/N, I’m gonna say something, but I don’t want you to take it the wrong way,” he prefaced before continuing. “I mean, listen to the way you just described the two of them. Are you sure you really like JK? Or do you just like that after years of wanting him, you’ve finally got your prize, and the fact that he makes you feel like you’re always on the verge of losing him is just keeping you tethered to him for no good reason?”

You frowned at this. “No, that’s not true, I love JK.” You said the words and you heard the way you said it, placing that emphasis on the word love, as though you were trying to convince them of it. You sighed, looking down at your hands in your lap. “I’ve loved him for years..”

You turned and looked up at Taehyung, who exchanged a nervous glance with Yoongi.

He leaned over to look at you. “Yoongi’s right, Y/N, like, your eyes literally lit up when you started talking about Jimin.”

You scooted back in your seat, shaking your head. “No, he’s just a distraction, the only reason I even left with him on Friday night was because I was jealous of the way Yuri was all over JK,” you muttered, tightening your grip around the fork in your hand. “You guys just don’t understand.”

-

You threw your purse onto the table when you walked into the apartment, plopping down onto the couch, huffing at the whole conversation you just had with Yoongi and Taehyung.

They just don’t get it, you thought. They weren’t there when Jungkook comforted you over your breakup with your ex. They weren’t there every time he would show up at your door, the way he would take care of you, making you food, knowing exactly how you like your coffee made, letting you hog the blanket whenever the two of you were snuggled together on the couch watching a movie because he knew you were always cold. He got you.

Then you heard Taehyung’s voice in your head - Your eyes literally lit up when you started talking about Jimin.

Looking down, you saw the corner of the garment box sticking out from under your couch. You reached down and picked it up, setting it down on the coffee table. You stared at the top for a few moments before reaching down, tugging the giant satin bow loose. You brushed the excess ribbon away and lifted the top open.

You gently flipped through the layers of tissue paper and heard yourself gasp when you saw the dress. As gently as possible, you lifted the delicate silk material up by two thin gossamer strings that held up a bodice of lace, silk, and tiny crystals, sewn into the lining. You set the dress down into its little tissue paper bed and stood up, pacing through your living room.

Are you sure you really like JK? You heard Yoongi’s voice in your head say.

You stopped in front of the coffee table, looking down at the dress, and decided you would go to Jimin’s event tonight. It’ll prove once and for all that you don’t actually have any feelings for him, you only loved Jungkook. And maybe as a fringe benefit, you’d still be able to have Jimin as a friend going forward.

-

It was 7:55 and you were standing in the courtyard of your apartment complex, pacing, moving about stiffly because you had no idea how to move in such a delicate dress, afraid you might step on the hem or accidentally tear one of the straps if your range of motion was too big.

“Y/N.”

You turned at the sound of a familiar voice, and saw Jimin standing in the stone entryway, hands in his pockets, eyes wide, staring at you as you turned around, his lips parting slightly.

He was wearing a black sweater, tucked neatly into a pair of black pants, under a long gray coat, a silver chain hanging around his neck, matching the silver of his hair blowing easily in the wind.

“H-Hey..” you brushed at the gown nervously. “Um..I didn’t hear your car come up.”

He took a few steps toward you. “I took the limo,” he reached his hands out and took you by the hands, spinning you around. “It comes with a driver,” he looked at you, eyes soft and slightly tired. “This is unbelievable..”

You felt your cheeks become hot. “Oh no, am I wearing this dress wrong? It’s just, I’ve never seen a dress so fancy it doesn’t even come with a tag, I couldn’t tell which was the front and which was the back,” you looked down at the dress, embarrassed. “Or is it the hair, is it too much?” you reached a hand up, tugging at your wavy strands.

He reached out and took your hands in his, waiting til you settled enough to look him in his eyes. “You’re stunning,” he said, his voice soft.

He led you out to the limousine where the driver stood, holding the door open for you. You got in, and Jimin slid into the seat adjacent from you, beside the window.

He sat quietly in his seat the entire drive to the venue.

You watched him nervously, looking up occasionally at his profile as he rested his elbow on the edge of the window, his fingers brushing at his lips as he looked out the window. You’d never seen him like this, you thought. He didn’t look upset or anything, but he wasn’t his usual cheery, smiling self. You wondered if something was wrong.

When the limousine came to a stop and the driver came around the open the door, Jimin stepped out first, holding a hand out to help you step out onto the sidewalk to an imposing glass and marble entrance, lined with lights, a row of black town cars and limousines along the sidewalk, backed up into the street, full of people who must’ve also been attending this event.  

He led you into the venue, to an elevator that rose 60 stories above the city, opening up to a rooftop terrace.

“Wow..” you gasped when the elevator doors opened, and you stepped out onto the stone terrace. There were men and women dressed in evening gowns and suits, some standing in clusters, engaged in conversation, others seated in sofas and chairs that looked like they were made of vintage upholstery, sipping drinks from crystal glasses, as an amber sun rose below a purple horizon in the distance.

“What..kind of work event is this?” you asked, eyes wide.

Jimin finally laughed, taking your hand and leading you to the bar.

“Y/N?” you heard someone call your name as Jimin picked up two glasses of champagne and handed one to you.

You turned and saw Namjoon walk up, eyes squinted in disbelief at the sight of you in that gown.

“Hey, Namjoon, what are you doing here?” you reached an arm up around his neck, giving him a hug, surprised to see him at such an event.

“One of my investors invited me here tonight. The better question is what are you doing here, looking like that?” his jaw dropped, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, staring at you.

You laughed, “Um, I’m here with a friend, this is Jimin..”

Jimin held out his hand to Namjoon, “Hi man, how do you do?”

“Holy shit, Park Jimin? Oh shit, I mean, oh crap, sorry please excuse me, I just,” Namjoon stuttered, shaking his hand, utter shock on his face. “I didn’t know you were Park Jimin.”

“Jimin,” you turned and saw an older gentleman walk up to the bar, arm in arm with a woman in a black evening gown who you assumed must’ve been his wife based on the giant art deco ring on her left hand. “Happy birthday, my boy,” he said, reaching a hand out.

Jimin stood back, shaking his hand. “Thank you, sir. Thank you for coming.”

“What a lovely event as always, dear, we look forward to this all year,” his wife smiled, picking up a glass of champagne from the bar.

“Is your father around?” the older gentleman asked.

You saw Jimin’s jaw clench at the question.

“No, I haven’t seen him yet. I’ll be sure to tell him to find you when I see him,” he said, and you felt goosebumps rise on your skin, shuddering slightly upon seeing his eyes suddenly go dark at the question, his tone coming out with a cold and stern edge, a severe departure from the sunny and cheery disposition you were used to seeing him with.

“Be sure to have him give us the name of his event planner too, will you dear? This is absolutely marvelous, I must have them plan my next party,” his wife asked as they both turned to walk away.

“Certainly,” Jimin answered, and as soon as they turned their backs, you watched as he raised the champagne chute to his lips, downing the entire drink in one gulp. “Whiskey neat,” he said to one of the bartenders, setting the empty glass down.

“Yo, Jimin!”

You opened your mouth to say something but the voice of someone calling Jimin’s name stopped you before you could. Across a few clusters of people gathered in conversation, you saw a young man about Jimin’s height, with black hair slicked back, in a sharp suit and tie, bearing a remarkable resemblance to Jimin, motioning for him to go over.

The bartender set the whiskey glass on the counter in front of him and he lifted it to his lips, downing it before turning to you, and obviously forcing a smile, said, “Please wait here a moment, I’ll be right back.”

“Dude, so that guy from the bar on Friday was Park Jimin? Holy shit, you are here with Park Jimin?” Namjoon gushed, punching you in the arm jokingly. “Duuude, nice pull, Y/N!”

“He didn’t tell me it was his birthday..” you said softly to yourself, staring after him as he approached the young man with the black hair, who held his arms out for a hug while Jimin hesitated for a moment, before returning his hug.

“Huh? What was that?” Namjoon asked, taking a sip of champagne.

“Namjoon, who’s that guy Jimin’s talking to?” you asked, gesturing over toward the two of them.

“Oh, that’s Park Jihyun. Oooh he must be Jimin’s younger brother. Oh man, I guess I should’ve known that when I saw Jimin, it all makes sense now, they look so much alike, he’s basically an older version of Jihyun.”

He has a little brother? You thought to yourself, looking at the two of them, Jihyun smiling, holding onto Jimin’s shoulder and walking him around to various guests to greet them, and Jimin obliged, forcing a smile.

The evening dragged on and you sat on a sofa with Namjoon, chatting with a few of his colleagues that were also at the party and losing count of how many glasses of champagne you’ve had.  You couldn’t tear your gaze from Jimin, who was pulled from group to group. He would occasionally look around for you, and when his eyes met yours, he would mouth the words “I’m sorry” and you’d muster a smile, shaking your head, mouthing “it’s okay” back to him.

“Hey, Namjoon, I’m gonna go to the bathroom, I’ll be right back,” you stood, heading back into the building, tipsy and struggling to find your balance in your heels.  

At the end of the hall, you saw a sign for the ladies room and pushed the door open to a dimly lit powder room, with a large vintage mirror above bronze sinks, a velvet sofa in the corner, and a group of girls who turned and stared at you as you entered, halting all conversation.

You smiled nervously, and walked over to one of the sinks, running cold water over your hands and patting your warm cheeks. You looked at your reflection, wondering what the heck you were doing here.

“Excuse me,” you said softly, ducking behind one of the girls and picked up a cloth towel from a marble vanity plate and dried your hands before turning and walking out.

“Oh my god, is that her?” you heard one of them say as the bathroom door closed behind you.

“I’ve never seen her around before,” another chimed in.

“She’s obviously not a society girl, I mean, did you see her hair? She probably did it herself. What’s Jimin thinking?” the third one said and the three of them burst into laughter.

You scoffed, turning and walking back down the hallway, saw Jimin and Jihyun walk across the open space down the other corridor. You turned the corner and saw them enter a room at the end of the hall, and you followed behind them, stopping beside the slightly ajar double mahogany doors.

“Happy birthday, son,” you heard a voice say.

Through the crack in the door you saw Jimin seated in a leather armchair, leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. Across from him sat an older man in a dark navy suit, his grey hair expertly groomed, wisps of white at his temples, and Jihyun stood beside his chair.

You quickly turned, leaning back against the wall, knowing that this was a private conversation, but still wanting to know what’s happening.

“I didn’t think you’d come back from your trip for this,” you heard Jimin say.

“Don’t be absurd, of course I’m going to attend my son’s birthday celebration,” you heard the man say.

Jimin sighed, “You’re not actually here for my birthday, so why don’t we just cut to the chase and you tell me what’s going on?”

Peeking through the crack in the door, you saw Jihyun hand a stack of papers to Jimin.

“What’s this?” he asked, flipping through the pages.

“I’m taking over Park Industries,” Jihyun announced, standing up tall, sliding his hands into his pockets.

Jimin looked up at him for a moment, and then looked at his father. He scoffed, nodding and tossing the stack of papers aside onto a table, standing up. “That’s great, Jihyun, I’m really proud of you. Now, if there’s nothing else, I’m going to go back outside-”

“Sit down, son,” his father said. “There’s no reason for you to take this tone, you’ve known for a while now that this would be happening.”

“And it’s not like we’re cutting you out. You’re still on the board, you still own 16% of the enterprise,” Jihyun added.

You saw Jimin nod again, and turn to walk towards the door, and you quickly backed away.

“Jimin, Jimin, wait,” you heard Jihyun call out as Jimin threw the door open, walking out, and you had already turned the corner down the hall. “Jimin, he asked me to take over the company officially two weeks ago, what was I supposed to do, say no? I’ve already been helping him with everything for a couple of years, and you haven’t even been around-”

“Jihyun, what are you doing?” you heard Jimin say. “I mean, all your life, you’ve done exactly what he said. Boarding school, Stanford, Wharton, and now this? Don’t you wanna live your life? You wanna be his slave your whole life?”

“That’s not fair..”

You heard Jimin’s steps moving closer and Jihyun’s voice stopped him. “Jimin, dad also wants to know when he can officially announce your engagement with Miya.”

You felt all air escape your lungs.

“Who’s that girl you brought here tonight? All the other girls were talking about it. You shouldn’t be so unscrupulous, you’re lucky Miya is in France with her family this month.”

“Jihyun, I’m not getting engaged to Miya.”

You heard Jihyun let out an exasperated sigh. “Brother, can you please for once in your life just do the right thing?”

A few moments of silence passed before you heard Jimin respond. “Can you for once in your life just do something for yourself?”

You turned quickly, running towards the elevators in the opposite corridor. You’d heard enough. You hit the button to call the elevator and the door opened and you stepped inside, hitting the lobby button repeatedly, hoping the door would close before Jimin emerged from the hallway and saw you.

When the elevator reached the lobby and the doors opened, you flew threw them, across the marble reception, and outside onto the sidewalk. You could feel your heart thumping in your chest, and you clutched onto your stomach, wondering why there was such a painful knot in your gut. You thought you had to get out of there.

Reaching into your purse, you took out your phone, scrolling to Jungkook’s name and hitting the ‘call’ button. It rang and rang and rang, and finally it went to voicemail. You held the phone in your hand, anxiously opening a text message to him.

“Y/N?”

You looked up and saw Jimin walking down the steps from the entrance toward you.

“Are you alright?” he reached a hand out to take your hand but you turned away. “Y/N, what’s happened,” he asked sternly, putting his hands in his pockets.

You took a deep breath before turning to face him. “I heard your conversation just now,” you began, as steadily as you could manage in this moment with your adrenaline pumping and your heart racing a mile a minute. “I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop, I was just coming out of the bathroom and saw you and your brother..”

He listened to you calmly, an unreadable expression on his face.

“All of this, Jimin?” you looked around at the black limousines lined up along the sidewalk, the groups of men and women in designer clothes, at the tall glass and steel building where his birthday party was being held. “It’s not me, like I couldn’t be further removed from this whole other world you live in.”

You looked back at him and froze, seeing him looking back at you, the corners of his mouth dropped, his jaw tight, and his eyes glassy under the light of the street lamps.

He looked away, laughing softly, sniffing. “It’s not me either,” he turned back to face you, a dejected smile on his face.

“Jimin..” you regretted how harshly your words came out.

“Are you leaving?” he asked, looking at the phone in your hand and you looked down at the half composed message you were writing to Jungkook. You looked up and saw Jimin still smiling back at you and you felt a heavy weight on your chest. “Don’t leave,” he said quietly. “Please.”

-

“When my mother passed away six years ago,” he continued, refilling the empty glasses in front of you with a cold bottle of tequila. “I took it really hard.”

You sat on the soft cushions of the bench in a large bay window of Jimin’s penthouse apartment, wrapped in a chenille blanket. He had changed into a white t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants and sat across from you, one leg propped up, the other hanging over the edge of the bench, taking a shot from the glass. The large open space of his apartment was completely quiet except for his soft voice and yours, and the light pitter patter of rain hitting the window.

“That’s completely understandable, it was your mom..” you said quietly, also drinking the shot he poured you.

He let out a wry laugh. “Not for my father,” he poured another shot. “I quit Penn for a few years and kinda went on a bender. In retrospect, it’s my fault that my brother’s getting locked into my dad’s plans. If I hadn’t left, maybe my dad would’ve gone easier on him, I could’ve taken some of the hit.” He tossed another shot back and you did the same.

“But you know, sometimes I look at Jihyun and..I mean sometimes I think he actually really wants this. He actually wants to take over the company. It’s not some kind of obligation for him, he really wants it. And not for the prestige, he just...he just really wants to do the right thing for our father.” He sighed, shaking his head. “How’d he get this kind of discipline? I certainly didn’t set the example for him. All I did was run around doing whatever I wanted, I had no sense of responsibility.” He sighed, catching your gaze. “Please don’t look at me like that.”

You looked back at him, confused. “Look at you like what?”

“Like you empathize with me,” he said, looking down. “Like you understand.”

You were taken aback by this, frowning, “You don’t want me to understand you? You want me to look at you coldly and say some generic shit like don’t worry, it’s all gonna work out? I’m trying to be supportive-”

He leaned forward, cupping your face in his hand, and pressed his lips to yours.

“Mm, Jimin, stop..” you mumbled against him, pushing him away gently.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that,” he pulled away, his hand lingering at your jaw. “I’ve been so good all night, keeping my distance, but you looking at me like that, like I know that you understand and hear me, it makes me crazy..”

“Jimin-”

You felt his hand slide to the base of your neck, his thumb gliding across your skin, taking ahold of you. He leaned forward, molding his lips against yours once again, and you felt your eyelids fall shut, like an involuntary response to the feeling of his lips on yours, like you couldn’t help it.

He scooted closer to you, reaching his arms down around your waist, pulling you into him and felt your muscles relax against him, but quickly caught yourself.

“Mm, no, Jimin, wait,” you stood up, backing away clumsily, shaking your head. “I can’t, I can’t do this,” you turned and moved towards the front door, putting all the energy you could control in your drunken haze into defying the magnetic pull you felt towards him that was keeping you from walking away.

“Y/N…” you looked up, hearing Jimin call out your name and saw him walk towards you, his shoulders slumped down, a shadow over his eyes.

You sat down onto the floor, wrangling with the straps on your heels in agitation, your mind foggy and clouded with frustration and confusion, unsure what to do. You heard him take in a deep breath, before kneeling down in front of you, touching your hands gently. He reached for the straps of your heels, tying them with ease. He took your hands and helped you stand, and refused to let go.

“Jimin-”

He stepped forward, making you take a step back, and you felt the cold of the concrete door hitting your back. You felt him grab ahold of your wrists, pinning them behind you and holding them there with one hand. With his free hand he grabbed your jaw, lifting your face up to his, and pushed his lips into yours.

You looked at him, wide-eyed, fighting every urge to close your eyes, the sensation of his lips against yours, his hand sliding down to the base of your neck, pushing you against the door behind you, his body pressing against yours firmly, making it difficult to turn away.

He let your hands go, but you felt the palm of his hand against your hip, his fingers digging into your skin, holding you against him, not allowing you the space to move.

“Jimin-” you managed to get out through the movements of his lips against yours. His lips are so warm, you thought, and so soft against yours. The warmth of his body against you, the smell of his cologne thinning the air around you made you dizzy and you felt your eyes fluttering closed as your ability to fight waned, you felt as though you were melting against his body.

You were barely able to lift your arms up, your hands forming tiny, ineffectual fists against his chest as his lips slid to the corner of your mouth, tracing your jaw, finding your neck. The feeling of his lips, the heat of his breath on the skin of your neck sent a shiver down your spine.

“Jimin..” you panted through his movements, feeling his hand slide down the side of your thigh. He pulled your leg up and wrapped it around his hips, and you felt a moan escape your throat as he pushed his pelvis against you and you could feel how hard he was through the thin material of your dress now bunched up at your waist.

You made a feeble attempt to push his chest away, “Jimin, we can’t do this-”

At your words, you felt his lips open against the base of your neck, and you felt his tongue sliding over your skin. “So tell me to stop,” he whispered against your skin, the low and resonating sound of his voice sending waves through your body. But you were unable to say anything, the words refused to come out.

He slid his hands over your shoulders, brushing the straps of your dress loose and he tugged at the material forcefully and you heard the sound of the fabric tearing. He pulled the dress from your body, letting it drop to the floor. Reaching around you, he unhooked your lace bralette with ease, tossing it aside before reaching down and looping his fingers around the satin ties of your panties, untying them and letting them fall to the floor.

He stood, looking at your naked body before him for a moment, his chest rising and falling, out of breath and in an instant, his lips found yours again, this time with more force, pushing your mouth open and his tongue fell on yours, completely overpowering you. Your head fell back languidly, as though your limbs had succumbed entirely to him, turning to jello. You felt his hands reaching around you, tracing the dimples in your back before sliding down, taking your ass in his hands, squeezing roughly.

“Fuck..Jimin-” You moaned against his lips.

“Tell me to stop,” he hissed, as though he was challenging you not to give into him, his low voice gravelly as he reached down and pulled his shirt over his head. He pushed forwards, and the feeling of the warmth and softness of the skin of his chest against you made you shake.

His tongue continued to roll over yours, pressing his face against yours hard, making it difficult to breathe. He moved his lips to your collarbone, biting and sucking, creating a little trail of blood clots in your skin as he moved down your chest, your stomach until he was kneeling in front of you. He looked up at you, his eyes gleaming with need. Jimin slid a hand to your inner thigh, the warmth of his palm burned against your sensitive skin. He pushed your leg up, draping it over his shoulder.

You were about to open your mouth to say something when you saw him lean down, and felt his tongue press into you, making you gasp. You could feel every bump and ridge of his tongue moving against you, his lips closing onto you, sucking at you, and you reached your arm over your head, your nails scratched against the door, grasping at anything you could hold onto to brace yourself.

Jimin looped his arm around your leg over his shoulder, reaching his fingers down to massage your clit, making your body squirm against him. You felt your breathing become ragged, your heart pounding against your chest and he pulled away suddenly. He stood, reaching down, sliding the edge of his sweatpants below his hips. You moaned in anticipation as he leaned forward, his mouth finding yours and you could taste yourself on his lips, his tongue, and you could feel your wetness gliding down your thigh. Jimin slid his sweatpants and briefs from his legs, and reached out, pulling your leg over his waist and pressed against you.

A small gasp escaped your lips when you felt his tip press against you, gliding against your clit, coated in your wetness.

“Fuck..Y/N..”

He continued pressing his tip lazily against you, teasing you, making you whine into his lips, yearning for him. “Jimin..please..”

A grin formed on his lips as he positioned himself at your entrance, “Yes?” he teased, tormenting you.

You pushed your hips against him, wanting him, begging to have him inside you, feeling yourself dripping around him.

“What do you want?” he whispered into your mouth, sucking on your lower lip, and you groaned in frustration against him.

“Jimin..please...I want you inside me..” you begged.

“Yeah?” you felt him reach his hand down, rubbing the tip of his cock against you before pushing into you just slightly, making you gasp at the sensation of him opening you up. “Like this?” his hot breath against your skin felt like electric pulses rushing through your body. He looked down at you, a fiery need in his eyes as you tried to push your hips against him. “More?” he asked, his lips finding your neck, latching on and sucking at your skin, making you throw your head back at the sensation of him taking complete control of your body. He pushed in deeper with an agonizing slowness and all you could think about was wanting to feel him pushing in and out of you.

He pulled out slightly, slowly, before pushing his full length back inside you, the sensation of him filling you completely, stretching you made you shake, completely overwhelming you. Jimin moved his hips against you slowly, his pelvic bone pushing against your clit each time he pushed back into you, and you completely melted around him, the pleasure building in your core, your breathing growing more and more ragged as he bit into the skin of your neck.

Jimin could tell he had you at the very edge. He pulled his head back, giving you soft kisses as he slowed his pace, not allowing you to have all of him. You moaned into his lips, wanting him back, wanting more.

“Do you want me to make you cum?” he grinned, his lips forcing your mouth open, his tongue rolling over yours. You nodded, kissing him back in desperation, your head dizzy and vision blurry, unable to think of anything except the aching need within you.

“Yes..Jimin...please..” you choked out between panting breaths. He pushed himself deep inside you, quickening his pace, feeling your climax build.

“Do I feel that good Y/N?” his grin grew, the feeling of his warm breath against your skin, his cock pushing deeper and deeper into you drove you to the edge. “Do you like having me so deep inside you?” he pressed on, his voice a low growl. You felt your eyes roll back as you tightened around him. “Fuck..Y/N….fuck..I’m coming..”

He drove his mouth into yours, covering the scream that would’ve escaped your lungs as your whole body shook underneath his, his fingers digging into your skin, holding your body flush against his as you both rode out your orgasm.

You suddenly felt for the first time how cold the air was in his apartment as the sensitivity slowly wore off and you felt him pull himself from you. You leaned your head back against the door, eyes still closed, world still spinning and felt his soft lips planting gentle kisses on your cheek, his arms sliding lazily around your waist.

You opened your eyes and found him looking back at you, his eyes sleepy, his skin glowing in the dim light.

Shit.

“Are you alright?” he whispered, planting feather-soft kisses on your lips, smiling.

“Um..I’m fine,” you pulled away, leaning down to pull the dress back up to your shoulders, finding that he ripped the strap and bodice when he tore the dress from your body earlier.

“Here, let me get you something to wear,” he took you by the hand, leading you past the kitchen to the closet and you held your arm across your chest in an attempt to hold the dress up.

He pulled a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt down from the shelf, and told you to drop the dress as he slid the shirt over your head. You stepped out of the silk and lace puddle and slid your legs into the sweatpants before leaning over and picking up the dress, bundling it in your arms. He slid on a new pair of briefs and put on a long sleeve shirt and a pair of sweatpants as well.

“Um, I’ll get this to a seamstress and return it to you once it’s fixed,” You said frigidly, brushing a lock of hair behind your ear.

He reached a hand out for your waist but you turned, backing out of the closet.

“Y/N..” he followed behind you.

You grabbed your purse from the counter and moved towards the front door. “Jimin..look I...I have to go,” you turned the knob and he stopped you, grabbing ahold of your arm.

“Y/N, it’s 2 in the morning and there’s a thunderstorm outside,” he sighed, looking at you with a concerned expression. “Stay the night, I’ll take you home in the morning.”

You shook your head. “No Jimin, I can’t stay I-” you turned to look at him. “This was a mistake. I have to go, ok?”

His brows knit together and he reached his arms out, sliding them around your waist and pulling you in. “How can you say that, Y/N..look at me,” he reached a hand up and took ahold of your jaw, forcing you to look at him. “Are you still thinking about Jungkook? After everything? Look me in the eye and tell me you still want him.”

You felt your cheeks grow hot as a rush of liquid came to your tear ducts.

“Jimin, let me go,” you breathed, grabbing onto his forearms and tearing his hands from you.

“Y/N..” he sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Let me at least drive you, it’s pouring outside.”

-

You sat in the passenger side of his car as close to the door as possible, wanting as much distance between your body and his as you could manage. You stared out the window, heart pounding, fingers nervously picking at your cuticles, and Jimin noticed.

He drove swiftly through the thunderstorm, pulling up to the outside of your complex. You had your hand already on the door handle, sliding it up before the car even came to a full stop, running out into the rain.

“Y/N!” he called after you, running up behind you, throwing open an umbrella.

“Y/N-”

You looked up, brushing the hair that’s been stuck to your forehead from the rain and froze, seeing Jungkook stand up from the bench under the awning by the security desk. He looked at you, eyes widening as they saw the little marks on your neck, that you were wearing Jimin’s clothes, the dress in your arms.

You saw his teeth clench as he lunged forwards toward Jimin, winding his arm back and you stepped in front of him. “JK! JK, don’t!” You raised your hands up, pushing his chest, but fell backward a little yourself. You ran your hands along his arms, “Hey, hey, don’t do this ok? Hey, JK-”

He threw his arms up, flinging your hands aside, “What the fuck did you do Y/N?” he yelled, turning and raising his hands to his ears. “What the fuck did you do?!” He took a step toward you, making you jump, and Jimin stepped in front of you, pushing him back.

“Y/N, get back in the car.”

“What did you do,” over Jimin’s shoulder you could see Jungkook slam his back against the stone wall, sliding down to the ground, his head in his hands.

“No, Jimin, you should leave,” you pushed past him, kneeling in front of Jungkook, trying to pry his hands from his face.

“Y/N..” Jimin moved toward you.

“Just go!”

You turned to face Jungkook, still huddled against the wall and in your periphery you saw Jimin lean down to pick up his umbrella, his hair and clothes drenched, and you could tell he stood looking at you for a moment before turning and walking out. You heard the engine of his car turnover, and its echo as it roared down the street, leaving nothing but the sound of raindrops hitting the pavement and water splashing from the rain gutter above.

[chayacat]

Devil’s Sweet Star (6)

Fandom: Dead by Daylight

Ghostface x Female Reader  

Rated M for Violence, Language and Smut  

***

Ah this exchange... Despite the fact that you knew his name, you kept a cold-bloodedness that amused him. and your face when you faced him through the window...

“...ed...”

Your eyes so big that he could read your fear, the firm grip of your hand on the phone, those lips so thin and this skin so soft that he would love to …

“Jed! Hey Jed are you there? Hellooooo ? Jeddyyy ...”  

Melina's voice brought Danny out of his thoughts, making him blink several times while looking at her. it must be said that he did not stop that night coming home late enough and having slept just enough not to be tired. He stretched and put himself back in his seat, putting his glasses back in place.

“Sorry. What did you say?” He said rubbing his eyes.

“I said that we should find something about Hoggin’s computer in his office. Or in his desk. But it won't be easy to go into his office without attracting the attention of his gorillas. He paid the best in terms of bodyguards. You're really going to have to be careful not to get caught.” responds Melina by checking her notebook.  

“Yeah yeah...Sure.”  

“You look completely in the clouds since this morning. Are you sure everything's okay? Did you at least sleep?” ask Mattew worried.  

“Of course. Otherwise, I would be a real zombie with dark circles at the size of a balloon.” replied Jed with a little laugh.

“I'd say our little nerd is spending his night dreaming about someone. I don't know... A certain girl who runs the Nebula?” said Melina with a corner smile.  

“What? Come on... Don't start with that. I have already told you that I consider her as a good friend and a good neighbour. And it stops there. I'm too busy with the job to think about that.”

“Yes, well maybe you should think about your personal life more than your professional life. otherwise, you'll be a poor 50-year-old guy who lives with five cats. Look at Mattew he almost ended up like this if I hadn't convinced him to throw his feelings at Chris. How's he doing by the way?”  

“Hey! One, we already have 3 cats with Chris and maybe we'll have another and two ... He's fine. He's a little stressed out because of his mother's surgery. Although I try to reassure him that everything is going to be all right, he can't help but think of the worst. And we can't say his job makes things right for him. He's dealing with clients who are real assholes on the phone sometimes.” answers Mattew.

“Poor guy. I hope everything will be fine.” said Jed.

“Anyway, it's not halfway through your life that you're going to have to think about your love situation, Jed. So put the work-obsessed nerd aside a little bit and take care of yourself. You're far away, VERY far to be ugly.”

Danny rolls his eyes before refocusing on his work. But at the same time Mike landed both furious and worried before locking himself in his office. No one knew why he was in this state, but Danny might have an idea. Whispers were heard and Mike's colleagues Karen and Thomas chatted in their corner, a little out of sight. When they saw Melina's insistent gaze, telling them to come, they looked at each other, exchanged two three words, and then resigned themselves to getting closer to the trio.

“What happens to Mike? You threw his four truths in his face or what?” ask Melina.

“No... It’s just...You know Mike. He can be really upset for nothing sometimes. Answer shyly Karen.  

“Frankly, even I don't believe what you're saying here! Mike's been like this since last night. He received a threatening letter.” replied Thomas.

“Wow...how surprised I am! I'm surprised it happens to him when everyone here dreams of one thing: blowing his mouth.” said Melina ironically.

“it's not a letter from someone in the office... It's a letter from Ghostface.”

Jed doesn't react, but Danny made his most devilish smile. Once again, he was right and once again, he gloats inwardly imagining the face of that dear Mike as he read the letter. It must be said that what Danny had written... wasn't really very tender.  

But it had done him a great deal of good to let go of his anger and frustration in this letter, something he could and cannot do by being Jed. And the game doesn't end there. Oh no... Danny intends to make him suffer...until his last breath. But first, he has to kill McKellan. The hours went by and when the lunch break arrived, our trio went out to settle down at a small dinner in the area.

“Dude sometimes I wonder how you eat so much. You're not human, I'm telling you! Did you see the size of your burger? I'm sure if they did it in size XXL you would eat it without an eyebrow!” said Melina eating a French fry before noticing Jed lost in his though again. “Don’t worry, you’ll see her today. it's been a while since I want to go to the Nebula ... with everything I hear on it, I want to check for myself if her coffee and cakes are really better than old Joe's. I'm surprised that you offered her to come with us to the Hoggins reception. I wonder why...”

That's a question neither Jed nor Danny could answer. Why did he ask you to come? Certainly, to get to know you better, to get closer to you, like the spider approaching its prey ready to taste it starting with the bowels. But wasn't there another reason? A reason deeper, more obscure than either dared to admit. a reason more... Personal? Danny immediately chased this idea out of his mind, he did it for the only purpose of deciding if he would let you live, or not.

They left dinner after an hour, Mattew dragging his feet a little, completely full, his belly ready to explode. Melina made fun of him while Danny felt stuck by his colleague's remark. A little stalk tonight will clear his mind.  

As they entered the Nebula, they noticed that the room was practically full and that you were running around. But curiously we had no delays or any unscathed customers. As if having a little challenge or difficulty amused you even more than if everything was simple.

“Welcome to the Nebula! Where our pastries come from Outerspace!” you said before noticing Jed’s face. “Hey Jed! How are you? Are these two people with you?”

“A little tired but I’ll be fine. Yeah, this is Melina and Mattew, they want to check if what they say about your coffee is true. And yet I kept saying it.”

“Oh, you’re Jed’s colleagues and friends?? It's a real pleasure to finally meet you! Jed keeps telling me that his job would be boring if you weren't there. Settle in! I'll take care of you right away!” you replied with a bright smile.  

“Oh, yeah? I keep it very deep in my memory.” said Melina with smirk.

The trio sat at a free table at the bottom of the café against the glass. Mattew let go a sigh of relief, finally happy to be able to land and lay like a toad in his seat. Melina was seated next to him sneering at her colleague's position. Danny sighed as he shook his head. Not one to catch up with the other.  

You head to them with the notebook and pen in hand to take their order: A March cake and a Latte for Melina, a Neptune's pie and a Cappuccino for Mattew, and finally a Chocolate Jupiter's Thunder and a long coffee with sugar and cream for Jed. It only took you a few minutes to prepare their orders and bring them all to their tables. While smiling at them you leave at the counter you take care of two other customers.

“Young, your age I'd say maybe two years younger, pretty but not the kind to let herself walk on either. I think I'm beginning to understand why you invited him to accompany us to the reception.” laughs Melina before receiving a shot in the knee from Jed. “ouch! Okay that’s fair. Oh, shit I just realized that I'm going to need a proper outfit... I'll be surprised if they let us in with jeans and sneakers.”

“I don’t like the suits I feel like a penguin. But Chris must have one... we're doing the same size.” Respond Mattew.  

“I have one too. I needed to wear one when I was working as a journalist in Missouri.” Replied Jed.  

“By the way, what do you think of the Ghostface threat letter? I think it's crazy anyway. I wonder if Mike did anything to him in particular to get his attention.”

“He's an asshole, narcissistic, self-absorbed, violent, willing to do anything to get what he wants... Do you want me to keep going or is that enough for you?” Replied Melina.  

“Anyway, if he provoked Ghostface it's too bad for him. He will have looked for it. Sooner or later, you always reap what you sow.” continues Jed without empathy.

“Ghostface?” You said making them turn to you slightly surprised. “He attacked someone again?”

“He wrote a letter to one of our colleagues. and obviously it's not very pretty. Why, you're in trouble with him, too?” ask Mattew

“Well, he...He calls me last night. We talk a little and... he said to me that if I’m talking to the police, I’ll be his next victim. But for the moment he’ll spare me.” you answer slightly trembling.

“Why Didn't you come to see me? or call me? Things could have been different if I had been there.” Replied Jed worried while Danny held back a devilish smile.  

“I wanted to hang up but if I had done it, he would have killed you ... Sorry. I didn't want to bother you with that.”  

“Oh... I see. I'm the one who's sorry you did what you thought was right. But if it ever starts again... call me or come to my house. We can always talk about it.”

You smiled at him and after a few minutes the trio paid the bill and left your coffee. the rest of the day went quietly, Mike being locked in his office all day, no one had seen him even his colleagues. Danny went home doing two or three little things before leaving discreetly at night to do his second "work". He knew Mike's address by heart, having "politely" copied it from his notebook while searching Mike's office one day when Mike was not working.

He couldn't help but smile as he thought of you slightly trembling when talking about your little conversation with Ghostface. that's the kind of feeling, emotions Danny likes to see about his prey. This feeling of insecurity that he gives you without knowing that he is the author... Perfect. Maybe in the end he won't kill you. He will frighten you, remind you of his existence... but won't kill you. Just enough for you to trust only one person. Him.  

He parked in a rather secluded place, not far from Mike's house, his bag in hand to change into Ghostface and got out of the car. From there he entered the house. He was planning to leave a... little gift to Mike. A gift he doesn't intend to forget anytime soon.  

He placed the small package on the counter and took a bucket. a bucket filled with blood that he had hidden well. He stayed for a few minutes and once his masterpiece was completed, he took several pictures and returned to the car. He then saw him come out of his room and down the stairs. It's time to turn up the arterial tension of this dear Mike. With a disposable phone he dialled the number and while waiting for, a mean smile to appear on his face.

“Hello?” said Mike

“Hello Mikey... Did you like my letter?” respond Danny.

“You son of b***! Do you know where you can put your threats?? Do you think you're scaring me??”

“I conclude that you did not like my letter... I suspected it a little. I would have been more... Sincere. I have a little present for you. On the counter.”

“Go f*** yourself. If I caught you...”

“You're not nice. I give you a present and you don't even bother to open it? I'm disappointed in you.”

He then saw Mike walk to the counter and open the small package and back off both frightened and enraged.

“you... How did you get those pictures??? You... You broke into my house, you bastard!!!!” He replied

"and more than once. If these images arrived at your boss’s office ... That would be the end of your career. Though... You could still make a career in prison. You're good at lying. Oh, and I'm sorry about your walls. I put some blood on it.” respond Danny.  

Mike turned and saw the bloody inscriptions: Pedophile. Drug addict.  

“You only get what you deserve Mikey. And believe me... It's nothing compared to what awaits you. I intend to make you regret every moment of your life until your last breath. Did you want to be the star? Know that the only star in this city Mike... It’s ME. See you soon Mike... have a beautiful dream.” laughs Danny before hangs up the phone.  

His laughter got louder, more diabolical when he saw from his car, Mike throwing everything away. Seeing him explode with rage made Danny even more ecstatic. Killing him will be a real bloody pleasure because not only will he take revenge for all the blows he has taken, but he will also rid the country of a disguised plague of society.

He restarted the car with a demonic smile on his lips, ideas just as twisted as each other. He'd stalk you a little bit tonight, but he had another victim to watch tonight.

And his name was Horace McKellan. Death is getting closer Horace...  

And soon you’ll embrace her in such a painful agony...

But also, desirable.

***

(Done! I’ll hope you’ll enjoy it as always! And remember! If you got some questions just ask!  See ya! )  

[ohsnapitzlovehacker]

Interlude

Author’s Note: Not me posting and ghosting...👀

Summary: Rory and Meghan spend lunch together and enjoy each other’s company. (Story takes place the school year after the events of book 3)

Word Count: ~850

tag list: @cordoniasmost @mrsagentbreakdance @tays-role-plays (old tag list lol) 

Rory’s French fries were fast disappearing and he knew exactly who the culprit was. 

“What?” Meghan asked, innocence coloring her tone, doe-brown eyes wide. “You’re not as sneaky as you think you are, Megs.” Rory reached into the greasy bag, surprised there wasn’t just salt and crumbs left. He popped a small fry into his mouth as Meghan regarded him with mock indignation. 

“Are you accusing me of stealing your fries? Me? The actual audacity...” She tossed her head, two curly puffs shaking with the movement. The slight hairstyle change had been Rory’s doing, reminded of how she used to wear her hair when they were much younger. While Rory marveled at how oblivious he’d once been to his feelings, Meghan was on the move again, maneuvering a quiet hand into the bag. 

“Hey!” Rory exclaimed, catching her right in the act. He thought she’d put her acting skills to work but he wasn’t prepared for the pouty expression that followed. She ducked her head, meekly bumping her forehead against his shoulder. 

“I’m still hungry...” She was.

“I told you the wrap was a bad idea.” He had.

“But I always get a burger! I was trying to branch out. Besides, what’s a boyfriend good for if not sacrificing his fries?” 

Rory shook with laughter as Meghan commandeered the bag, not even a little upset as she shamelessly ate the rest of its contents. 

Lunch was a more intimate affair today, as their normal crew was split up. Lilith had surprised Skye at the end of 4th period and promised to bring her back by the next class. Danielle, Ajay, and Natalie were location scouting for a video contest. Clint and Graham were most likely doing couple things too, and Meghan’s twin spent equal time between her crew and his own friends. She and Rory had seen him tossing a football around with his girlfriend Erin and the other football players on the field as they walked by earlier. 

“Is it me or do we never eat in the cafeteria anymore?” Meghan mused, gathering their collective trash. A paper straw wrapper fell through the space between the bleachers and she watched helplessly as it floated to the ground a good few feet away. “I got it!” Rory exclaimed, already hoping down from his spot on the bleachers to grab it. When he returned, Meghan stood at the bottom too and they walked to the trash bin together.

“...I actually can’t remember,” Rory chuckled in answer to her question from before. His arm slid around her back and they slowly made their way towards campus. There was still a good twelve minutes before the warning bell, so they took their time. “Can’t believe spring break is in a week. This year went so fast,” Rory mused and Meghan agreed. 

“Too fast. I’m not ready to be a junior. Or take Greenwick’s class. Or say goodbye to Erin and Ajay.”

“That’s what the group chat is for.”

“Rory, it’s not the same!”

“True.”

Meghan sighed and Rory pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead.

“Hey, you and Skye will be coworkers in a few weeks.”

Meghan’s face lit up at the reminder and she pulled herself from Rory’s embrace to twirl in circles. His words had just the effect he hoped for. “YAY!” Not even a little dizzy she ran back up to him, taking both his hands in each of her own. There was a smear of salt on her cheek, clear proof of her fry-thieving ways. But she was smiling, the sudden breeze whipping her hair around, and he wanted to freeze the moment. 

Rory didn’t stop to think, to tease her, anything of the sort. He just kissed her. Once the shock wore off, Meghan eagerly leaned into him, wrapping her arms around his neck to pull him closer. Only the bell could pull them apart, but it was a dull ringing in the background when Rory finally stepped back, a dazed look on Meghan’s face. He didn’t doubt his expression was similar. Suddenly they were grinning at one another, both of them silently unconvinced of their luck but never happier than when they were together.

A sharp whistle pulled their attention away from each other and towards her brother and Lorenzo who raced past, running backwards.

“You’re gonna be late to class!” Malcolm yelled.

“You’re gonna trip and fall on your face!” Meghan shot back. To Rory’s relief and Meghan’s utter disappointment, her brother did not fall and he and Lorenzo raced each other, growing smaller in the distance. Meghan shook her head, but the frown disappeared when she looked up at Rory. 

“Walk me to class?”

“Always.”

[musicalmontgomery]

Letters

Word Count: 2.4k

Warnings: angst, swearing, brief mentions of billy’s abuse 

Pairing: billy hargrove x reader

on the day Billy Hargrove leaves his small town of Coastalside, California for Hawkins, he makes fast friends with y/n, promising to write her while he’s away

loosely based on ‘Travelin’ Soldier’ by Dixie Chicks // there will be more parts!

The bell on the diner door rang as the newest customer entered into the french fry aroma of the mom and pop restaurant. You kept up with your sidework, polishing the cutlery and folding it into napkins while the patron got sat into one of the red and yellow leather booths.

The day dragged on just like every other as the minute hand schlepped around the seashell clock hanging above the bar. This was only supposed to be a summer job, taking orders and serving burgers for the locals while the tourists stuck to the patios along the beach. But here you were as September was coming to its close, still trying to get the water stains from the damn dishwasher out of these knives.

After allowing the customer a moment with the menu, you finally turned around to see him sitting there. In all his glowing glory, was Billy Hargrove. The king of Coastalside, California. Grabbing your pad and pen, you sauntered over to the small booth he sat in. For the first time in all the time you’d seen him around town, he looked small. The tall seat towered over him and it reminded you of a child pretending to be a grown-up.

“Good morning, can I get you started off with something to drink?” You politely asked, carefully avoiding eye contact.

“Just, uh, a-a coffee please,” Billy stumbled. You looked up from your pad where you had scribbled ‘coffee’ in loopy handwriting. A single bead of sweat on his upper lip could have easily been attributed to the sweltering Californian heat that lasted into late fall, but the anxiety written on his face told another story.

“Yeah, no problem. Any food or just the coffee for now?” Your eyes finally meeting his, you felt your heart break a little. The once bright blue that shone like the sun in the sky seemed a muted tone as they watered.

You gave a little smile as he took a moment to collect himself to spit out any words.

“Just the coffee, thanks. But hey, can I ask you something?” His eyes still boring into yours pleaded for you. You gave him a quick nod and smiled a little bigger. “Would you mind sitting down for a while? I could use someone to talk to, and you look like a good listener.”

You softly laughed, wondering where in yourself he saw that. You’d only gone to the same small schools together all your lives, but now, he sees it. Nonetheless, you accepted the compliment.

“Thanks. I actually have some extra work to finish up, but I’m off in an hour if you’re not in a hurry. I know somewhere we can go.” You tugged on the bow holding your ponytail, tightening it.

His face lightening up, he finally gave you a smile and took you up on the offer.

For the next hour, Billy waited patiently and watched as you finished up the polishing and served your other tables. Every time your eyes caught each other’s, you could see him delicately smile, and his tense shoulders visibly dropped as he seemed to remember how to breathe again.

Wondering why he seemed so distressed, you recalled hearing around the hallways that the king of Coastalside was leaving his kingdom. You hadn’t heard where exactly, but you knew it was somewhere in the Midwest. No matter where, there was surely no ocean for a nearly professional surfer like him. The demeanour suddenly made sense and you really felt for him.

Finally, noon hit and your shift was over. You gave Billy a nod as you disappeared into the back to discard your apron in favour of your purse. When you got back to his table, he was pulling out his wallet for the three coffees he’d consumed in the hour he waited for you.

“Don’t worry about that,” denying the cash he was trying to hand you. “It’s on the house.”

“Thanks. Where to?” You and Billy headed out the door, the bell ringing out behind you.

“The pier? It’ll be too hot for the tourists today, so we should be relatively alone.”

True to your assumptions, the pier and beach were nearly entirely vacated save for a few locals and truly brave visitors. The ride over was quiet but comfortable. You’d always wondered what it would be like to be one of the girls in Billy’s Camaro only to be moderately disappointed. There was less of a magical excitement than you imagined you’d feel, but you were also not riding around in the same pretext they did.

The two of you walked along the wooden boards, neither saying a word until you reached the end and sat on a bench there. The brilliant noon sun hung right above you, making you glad you’d carried your sunglasses along today. Billy, too, wore his you realized as turned over to look at. As if on a cue, a small tear gentled rolled out from underneath the shades.

“I’m sorry. This was dumb, I don’t know why I asked you here.” His voice cracked, and his shoulders shook. Your hands quickly reached up to his cheeks to wipe away the quickly fleeting stream of saltwater.

“No, no. Don’t apologize.” You didn’t know what to say or how to help him here. Though you’d known Billy most of your life, it was only distantly. You wanted just to make everything better, but you didn’t know how.

After a minute or two of just sobbing and weeping, Billy’s tears came to slow and eventually stop.

“I’m leaving today.” Finally, he broke the silence.

Still not knowing what to say, you offered a simple “I know.”

“I’m leaving my entire life here to go off to hell. Hawkins the Hellhole, Indiana in the county of Bum-Fuck-Nowhere. I’m gonna die out there, Y/N. There’s no way I can survive that long away from all of this.” He held his hands up as he turned around to the town behind you, gesturing at everything it was and stood for.

“What are you gonna miss most? Maybe it’ll help to talk about it and figure out how to get a sense of that out there.” You were just talking out of your ass now, unsure of what you were even saying.

“The waves and surfing. I was so close to a sponsorship too. By the end of the season, it would have been mine. I’m gonna miss the people. My neighbours, the Watsons, real sweethearts. They brought over a cake that Mrs. Watson made for me a couple of days ago. It was a birthday/going-away thing-“ He was quickly cut off by your interruption.

“It was your birthday?!” You asked incredulously.

“Yeah, I just turned 18 the other day,” he said shyly.

“Happy belated birthday! Okay, carry on.”

Billy laughed and continued on with his list.

“I’m gonna miss making fun of the tourists. Miss driving the Camaro on the rocky coastline. Miss the salty air. But one thing I sure as hell am not missing is Stella’s Diner. Those chunks of charcoal you guys call burgers are awful!” He laughed, sniffling slightly. “It has its redeeming qualities, though. The coffee, the fries, you.”

Holding a hand to your chest over your heart, you smiled as he looked down at you.

“God! I’m 18 years old! I’m old enough to go off to war and get shot, but I can’t even decide where I want to be.” Billy frustratedly ran his hands through his hair, combing through the mullet of thick curls.

“Indiana won’t be as bad as a warzone, at least,” you said, trying to find a positive in this.

“Indiana is a warzone for me! You don’t know what my dad is like.” You’d seen the black eyes, the cuts. The Billy you knew didn’t fight and the injuries finally made sense.

“You’re gonna be okay, soldier.” Billy chuckled at the nickname.

Resting his back on the bench again, you looked at him in silence. His signature half-buttoned shirt exposed the glowing tan on his muscular chest. Tensed from experience but relaxed in this moment, he looked comfortable to just be here.

“I don’t have anyone out there, Y/N. Susan and Max don’t give a shit, Dad is an ass, Mom is long gone. Don’t really have anyone back here now. It’s just me.”

“You got me.” You reached your hand over to his and held it.

“Yeah. Can I send you letters, maybe? I’ve got no one else to send ‘em to.”

Your heart swelled at the sentiment. You’d never pegged Billy to be an old fashioned, letter-writing romantic.

You told him you’d love that and pulled your notepad and pen from work, his order still on the top page. Below where you had written ‘coffee’ earlier, you scrawled your home address that he could send to. You tore the page off, and he tucked it into his wallet for safe-keeping.

The two of you sat and stared at the ocean, outstretched before you for a while. Billy soaked it all in, fearing it may be the last chance to see it before he leaves. The quiet between you, while mostly comfortable, was missing something.

You reached up to the back of your neck and gripped the clasp of your necklace, undoing it. You brought it into his hands, folding them around it.

“You got me here. I’ll be there with you, even when you can’t write.”

His eyes buried behind his sunglasses blurred with tears again as he opened his hands to see the necklace. A simple silver chain held a delicate pendant of the Virgin Mary. Ever so carefully, he placed it around his own neck. Thumbing the pendant, he looked back to you.

He was unable to get words out, but you could see how appreciative he was for this gift.

With one last good glance at the vast expanse of water before him, he began to get up.

“It’s time for me to ship out. I’ll drive you home.”

With a town as small as Coastalside, it only took a few minutes to get from the pier to your house. It wasn’t nearly enough time with him. As he parked the Camaro, you turned into him and softly smiled. One of Billy’s hands came off the steering wheel to gently grasp the side of your face. Pulling you into himself, your lips collided like waves crashing at the shore. The sheer intensity lit a fire in your ribs, and you sighed into the feeling. Like a delicate dance, your mouth moved with his in a choreography you didn’t know you knew. As your lungs burned for air, you separated from him but he maintained his soft grip on your jaw.

“I can’t believe I waited this long to do that,” Billy gasped through his swollen lips. “And now, I have to go.”

You pressed your lips together as if to permanently seal the feeling of his into them. Once both of your breaths were caught, moments soaked in, excitement inside you dying down, you reached for your door handle. He returned his hand to the wheel.

Now exited from the vehicle, you smiled down at him in the driver’s seat.

“See ya, soldier.” You called his new nickname while closing your passenger door. Without looking back, for fear of crying if you had to see him again, you walked inside. Once you shut the door, you leaned against it, the sobs finally making their way out. Years of loving him longingly and you finally had your chance. Only to have it ripped away by fate. Your heart ached for what could have been, what you only got a taste of as you carried yourself to your bedroom.

-

The first letter came a few weeks later.

Dear Y/N,

I was right about it being ‘Hawkins the Hellhole.’ The town is bigger than Coastalside, but somehow there’s still nothing to do for fun. It’s so cold here and it’s only October. The lake is just a puddle of brown sludge and it has nothing on my crystal blue ocean. I miss it.

I miss you. I know I should have told you a long time ago, but I’ve really liked you for years. I was a jerk of kid, I know. Even more of an ass when we grew up. An arrogant little shit. But you still showed me kindness. Like you knew something about me that I didn’t know about myself. I hope that’s how you feel anyway. I don’t know if I love you. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt that. But I think this might be it.

Write me soon. Your Virgin Mary and I are looking forward to hearing from you, no matter if you feel the same way or not.

Lovingly,

Your soldier, Billy

You laid in bed, reading and re-reading the letter for hours. It was as if your mind was unable to process the words he had very clearly laid out for you.

“I think this might be it.” No way. No way was the king of Coastalside thinking this might be love that he was feeling for you. It all felt too surreal.

“Hey, hon,” your mother leaned against the frame of your open door. “You gonna be joining us for dinner?”

Without looking up from the page, you replied with a simple “no.”

“Who’s the letter from?” she asked.

“Billy,” your eyes continued to keep their focus on the sheet of paper.

“Hargrove? I heard he moved away.” Of course, she did. Coastalside was so small that everyone knew. “I didn’t know you were that close.”

“We weren’t really until he left.”

“Maybe it’s better that he did, you know? He was such a rough kid, and you don’t get mixed up in that. I think this is a good chance to cut your losses and you’re so young. There’ll be more guys.”

Saying nothing, you dropped the paper onto your nightstand and rolled over to face away from her. She took the hint and left, closing the door on her way out.

‘She’s wrong,’ you thought. Billy is so much more than she thinks he is. He was sweet and kind. When he wanted to be, anyway. Other times, he was an ass who beat up anyone who looked at him the wrong way.

No matter what her mother thought, you knew in your heart that you felt the same way as he confessed in his letter.

You refolded the letter and tucked it back into its envelope. You pulled a fresh sheet out of your desk drawer and wrote.

[pendragon50]

Lovebirds in Gotham

I’ve started writing an Arthur Fleck fanfic. I’ve wanted to write something for this fandom for a while now, and I’ve finally got some ideas, so I’m going to pour it all into this story. Going to be lots of romance and smut as the story progresses. Hope you guys like it! :)

CHAPTER ONE

TROUBLE ON A SUBWAY

The man sat on the subway, his unblinking green eyes – a sea of unfathomable loneliness – staring absently forward. His lips were coated in a bright, red, over exaggerated smile, outlined thickly in black. But there was no hiding the waves of sadness splashing about in his eyes; they were as plain as the carefully painted makeup on his face. Being a party clown, he always wore a happy smile, hoping he could spread joy and laughter to the world.

But at the end of each day, off came the mask that concealed the broken man beneath.

He wasn’t just a clown.

He was Arthur Fleck – lifelong resident in the cold, dark, unforgiving city that was Gotham.

Arthur sighed quietly, his tired eyes shifting to the woman sitting opposite him. She raised a pencil-thin brow, as if to say what’s with the costume? Arthur said nothing, dropping his gaze awkwardly. The woman snickered under her breath and shook her head. He was used to being stared at as if he were an alien creature who didn’t belong in Gotham; it was a sad, but inescapable part of his life. It didn’t help when he’d plunge into unstoppable, uncontrollable fits of laughter. That earned him strange, unkindly stares by the bucket load.

His mind flickered back to that morning. He’d been riding the bus to work, like he did every morning. He'd noticed a young boy staring at him, his face a mixture of pity and childlike confusion. Arthur loved making kids laugh. It was one of his favorite parts about being a party clown. Seeing the boy’s face light up in an amused smile as he played peek-a-boo with him, Arthur too had felt a smile creeping onto his face. Adults might not have found him amusing, but he never failed to send kids chuckling. In that moment, it had crossed Arthur’s mind: maybe today will be a good day?

Like a vase smashing to pieces, those thoughts were shattered when the boy’s not-so-kindly mother snapped, “Could you stop bothering my kid?”

Even when Arthur presented a small card to her, still the woman's annoyance didn't vanish. It was a card he carried with him wherever he went, for there wasn’t a day that passed, sadly, when his uncontrollable laughter didn't pay him a visit. Despite offering her his card, still she’d shot him another look that screamed: freak. Without handing the man his card back, she wrapped an arm around her son's shoulders, as if Arthur were some dangerous, villainous monster.

Again Arthur wondered: why? Why did people treat him so cruelly? For one who only wanted to spread joy and laughter to the world, why was it that the world had only apathy and nastiness to spit back at him? It was a question he could never find an answer to. Maybe, he thought wearily, it was a question that would remain unanswered forever.

Pulling the laminated card out of his pocket, Arthur re-read the card for what felt like the hundredth time.

It’s a medical condition causing sudden, frequent, and uncontrollable laughter that doesn’t match how you feel. It can happen in people with an injury or certain neurological condition.

Thank you!   

Slipping the card back into his pocket, Arthur frowned. He wondered if he could just maybe make it home without drama wrapping its tendrils round him. He shuffled in his seat, knowing the odds were dreadfully slim. Asking for a drama-free ride home was like asking for Thomas Wayne to help make the lives of Gotham’s less fortunate even a tad easier. Not going to happen.

Letting out another sigh, Arthur returned to staring out the window, lost in his tangled web of thoughts. How long the ride lasted, he couldn’t say. So hopelessly lost in his own world, it was like time screeched to a stop.

At one point, Arthur heard a startling screeeeech. He yanked himself out of his thoughts. Was time actually screeching to a stop?

No.

Just the subway stopping to let passengers off and on. He yawned and rubbed his hands over his face. He hadn’t realized till now how tired he felt, though he doubted he’d sleep much that night. It wasn’t often he got more than a few hours of sleep each night. Already he knew what that night would look like: him sitting at the wooden table in his living room, scribbling down jokes in his journal, hoping with everything in him that one of these days his dream of becoming a stand-up comedian would come true.

Arthur watched absently as the woman across from him rose to her feet. Snatching up her gold, diamond-studded purse, she swept past Arthur without so much as a backward glance. He wasn’t certain, but he swore he detected a slight, but arrogant “humph” as she departed the train. It was like she was relieved at finally being able to get away from the freakish clown.

Before the doors closed, a young woman hurried on. While catching her breath, she quickly grabbed a seat. Setting her purse down beside her, she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

Arthur watched her curiously. She looked to be in her twenties, with coal-black hair falling past her shoulders like a dark waterfall. Her small frame was covered in a pink turtleneck and grey leggings. His lips curved up in a small smile. Her flamingo-pink sweater was the only colorful thing in that dingy, smelly subway. When her gaze fell downward, Arthur felt a pang of sympathy. He was no stranger to the deepening frown now etched on her face; that same frown greeted him every morning when he looked in the mirror.

She must have sensed she was being watched, for she silently cast her gaze onto Arthur. Immediately he forced his gaze back onto the floor, trying to pretend he was interested in the newspaper. He was thankful his face was painted white, otherwise she would have clearly seen the red blossoming on his cheeks. He suddenly felt like a shy little boy, and had to fight the urge to not burst out laughing.

Don’t laugh, don’t laugh, he thought desperately. Please don’t laugh. He swallowed hard, and distracted himself by fiddling with his thumbs. Deep in his throat, he felt an all too familiar sensation bubbling into existence, climbing its way up towards his mouth. He coughed loudly, praying his laughter wasn’t about to break free of the cage he struggled so hard to keep it in.

He waited.

Waited...

Waited...

A minute later, he let out a silent sigh of relief. In his moment of relief, he chanced another look at the woman. She was reading, though it didn’t look to him as if she were fully absorbed in the story. Her gaze kept jumping about, bouncing here and there, as if she were only half interested in what was happening on the pages. Arthur kept his gaze on the window across from him. Keep on staring at her, he told himself, and she’ll think you’re a creep. J-Just pretend you’re sleeping or...or something like that.

Before he could think anything else, Arthur heard the sound of a door opening. A quick glance to his left showed three men entering the compartment. Dressed in wrinkle-free tuxedos and wearing toothy smiles, these new arrivals had cocky written all over them. The tallest of the three remained standing, leaning casually up against the silver pole, chatting loudly. The other two – a blond man in suspenders and a curly-haired man – were already sitting.

“Are you nuts?” the blond one exclaimed. He threw his hands up for emphasis. “Did you see how close we were dancing? She was in love!”

The tall guy scoffed, saying, “Right, right.” He cuffed the curly-haired guy on the shoulder. “That’s crazy. Tell him what you saw!”

But the other guy wasn’t paying attention. In his hand he held a crumpled bag. With a small smirk, he waved it in front of the woman, who was once again staring down at her book.

“You want some French fries?” he said in a slurred voice. Again he waved the bag, more forcefully. “Hellooooo?” When the woman lifted her gaze nervously, he went on, “Hey, I’m talking to you. Want some French fries?”

“No, thank you,” she said, her voice shaking slightly.

“You sure?” the guy asked, holding up a fry. He wiggled it and lifted his brows, locking his gaze on the woman. He licked his lips and added, “They’re really good.”

“Don’t ignore him,” the blond guy said. “He’s being nice to you.”

When a fry was thrown at the woman, she gasped in surprise. Immediately the three men burst out laughing. Shuffling uncomfortably in her seat, the woman shot a nervous glance at the clown.

Arthur watched her, his expression a combination of mounting fear and empathy. A small chuckle rolled off his lips, but his thoughts weren’t on the fact that an inevitable bout of laughter was on the way.

These men were drunk; that much was obvious.

They were drunk...and eyeing the small woman with wolfish grins. Instantly Arthur’s mind leapt into overdrive. He might not have been a genius, but it didn’t take a rocket scientist to realize what these men had on their minds.

It wasn’t French fries.

Arthur exhaled shakily. His heart pounded against his chest as the imminent danger this woman was in became startlingly clear. He could hear the clock tick-tock-tick-tocking down to...he didn’t want to think about what he feared it had to be counting down to.

He had to do something.

But what could he do?

No way could skinny, frail Arthur Fleck fend of three strapping young men! But he sure as hell couldn’t sit there and do a big, fat nothing. He had to get up and do...do...what? Tell them to get the hell away from her? As if these drunks would actually listen to some man in makeup and a clown suit? No doubt they’d knock him to the ground and introduce him to their kicking feet.

But it didn’t matter.

He had to do something...anything.

“H-h-hey!” he shouted. He covered his mouth momentarily, feeling that nagging urge to break out laughing. “G-get away from her!”

The woman took a deep breath. Her wide eyes landed on Arthur, and though she said nothing, he could hear the silent “thank you” falling off her lips. Just as quickly, her eyes were back on the three men. They were all standing now, closing the distance between themselves and the shaking woman.

“S-stop!” Arthur shouted, rising to his feet. “O-or I’ll—ha-ha-ha-haaa!”

It was instantaneous. All three men turned and shot Arthur expressions that each said the same thing: what the fuck? Arthur meanwhile, buried his face in his sleeve, unsuccessfully trying to silence his laughter. He took a breath and removed his face from his sleeve. Seconds later, once more his laughter grabbed hold of him, showing him no mercy.

“Is something funny, asshole?” the tall guy hollered.

Arthur waved his hand “no.”

The woman in the pink turtleneck watched him in silence. Unlike the men, who stared at Arthur with growing smirks, her expression was one of...compassion. The two’s gazes locked, and while no words were spoken, Arthur could tell she was scared.

Screeeeech.

The train was coming to a stop.

Arthur kept his gaze on the woman. He opened his mouth, trying to speak, but all that poured out was a louder, more painful laugh. He could hear the men snickering among themselves, but Arthur did his best to block them out. His focus was on helping the woman. Seeing the men sneering at him in unison, a light bulb went off in his head.

While still laughing, he cocked his head to the right. He didn’t need to speak to get across to her what he wanted to. Go! he thought urgently. With their interest now shifted to the laughing clown, no longer were they eyeing her.

When they train came to a stop, the woman rose to her feet. Before leaving, she shot Arthur one last glance. Again he motioned to the doors, silently insisting that she hurry out of there. Her eyes swam with waves of conflicting emotions. Finally, after what felt like eternity, she turned and exited the train.

A minute later, the train was moving.

“Isn’t it rich?” the tall guy sang, sliding his way over towards the clown. “Are we a pair?” The other two remained sitting, covering their faces with their hands, howling with childish laughter.

"Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!"

Before he knew it, Arthur was surrounded. Gone was any chance of distancing himself from these three. All he could do was sit there and laugh and pray this would all be over with soon.

The curly-haired guy snatched Arthur’s wig of green hair off his head. Onto his own head he placed it. Sticking his tongue out, he gave Arthur a mocking smile. The other two snorted in approval.

“So, buddy, tell us, what’s so fucking funny?” the tall guy demanded.

"Hah-hah!" Arthur’s hand went to his throat. His laughing was slowing – he could feel it. Taking a shaky breath, he reached into his pocket where he kept his little card.

“I..I have a condition,” he said, his voice quavering. No sooner had he pulled the card out of his pocket than he felt it grabbed out of his hand. The tall guy tossed it aside, and winked at the other two. The next thing they tossed was the duffel bag.

“I’ll tell ya what ya have, you asshole,” he laughed.

With that, Arthur was grabbed from behind as the chaos began.

What happened next Arthur only remembered bits and pieces of. Such a blur time became when he was knocked to the ground. In the minutes that followed, he remembered only pain and loneliness as he lay there, the men’s feet kicking mercilessly. With each kick, Arthur winced, which only cranked up the volume on the trio’s laughter. Such sniggering spilled off the men’s lips that Arthur’s ears rang with the sound of it.

“STAY DOWN, FREAK!”

Again he wondered: why?

Why do people treat me so badly?

Why is this my life?

He stared sadly down at the floor, wondering how many more kicks it would take until death came to fetch him. If they didn’t stop, he figured it wouldn’t be long. There was only so much a man as skinny as Arthur could take.

It felt like forever when the men finally left. But even as they darted off the train, still Arthur could hear them tittering, their voices thick with cruelty. Arthur meanwhile, stayed on the ground. The pain coursing through his body was ruthless. But even so, his thoughts wandered to the woman. She was safe. He might not have been able to physically stop those men, but laughter had proved just as effective a weapon.

Laughter had drawn those creeps away from her. He was glad he’d been able to help. He was no knight in shining armour, nor was he a fearless superhero. He was, however, a romantic at heart. Creeps and thugs wandered the streets of Gotham like hungry, greedy rats. If people like Arthur didn’t step in to try and protect those preyed on by predators, then who would?

When he reached his stop and slowly stepped off the subway, Arthur stopped. It was nighttime. A light breeze kicked up, blowing his greasy brown curls across his forehead. He shivered, zipping up his brown sweater to ward off the autumn chill. Above him sat the moon, lounging about in a starless sky.

He tucked his hands in his pockets, staring aimlessly skyward.

He and the woman on the subway hadn’t spoken a single word to each other.

Yet he couldn’t get her out of his head. Something about her he just couldn’t shake. Unlike all the others he bumped into day to day, she hadn’t shaken her head in disapproval when he’d been visited by another one of his laughing fits. Not even a little. Nor had she sneered and laughed at him like he was the definition of a pathetic joke.

Arthur’s lips curled up in a small smile.

In the few minutes he’d known her, one thing he felt sure of: she was different.

He wished he could see her again. But he knew that wasn’t likely. Gotham was a big city. The odds of bumping into her again weren’t in his favor.

And yet still, this didn’t stop lonely Arthur from hoping all the same.

[radi0active-thoughts]

SUTRA - Chapter 8

A/N: Hey there, guys! I'm really sorry I couldn't post lately. Writer's block and a few adult life issues have been compromising my time. But here it is and I genuinely hope you like it.

Warnings: none, I guess. Just Steve Rogers being a rascal, reader figuring out she needs to calm the fuck down, oblivious Sammy boy.

Word count: a lot of words

Y/N Wilson's POV

The next day

I woke up with sore hips, messy hair and naked, worn out from the night before. Steve stayed as much as he could, it means until people began calling him to go back to the compound, wondering where he was and wondering why his phone was off.

His alibi? His phone lost battery and we began to binge one of those Netflix shows, which was half true after we had sex - we began watching "Frontier".

His sweetness and dominance appeared on my skin in a few bruises and beard burns, and memories of his touch and kisses would make my skin tingle deliciously. I groaned and covered my body with my sheets while going to my bathroom to take a shower.

With the warm water, my muscles began to relax and I sighed from relief. My body relaxed in the warm water and I took the longest shower of my life. After that, I wrapped myself in a towel and got dressed to stay at home - booty shorts and a large shirt, with no underwear, were my choice.

I was dressing up when my phone rang. I ran to pick it up to see an unknown number.

"Hello." I picked up e put it on loudspeaker since I was combing my hair.

"Hey babygirl." I heard and smiled. Steve's voice is unmistakable.

"Hola, papi." I said with smile in my voice. "Good morning, I think."

"You just woke up, didn't ya?" He asked with a laugh.

"Yeah." I answered. "You worn me out yesterday."

"Good to know." He chuckled. "And it is good morning. 11 am."

"At least I won't lose a entire day." I said. "What are you up to today?"

"Nothing really." He answered.

"Would come here today?" I asked. "So we can keep watching Frontier."

"Oh." He said. "I can't... you'll have a visitor soon."

"Now you can predict the future, Steven?" I asked him and he laughed. My doorbell rang.

"It appears so." He commented with a laugh. I held my phone between my ear and opened my door to see my cousin, Sam.

"Milkshakes?!" He asked smiling.

"So, Greta" I made up a name using Steve's middle name - Grant. Steve held his laugh. "I gotta go now, I'm going out with my cousin... yeah, girl, talk to you later. Bye!"

I turned down the call and looked back at Sam. I smiled.

"Samuel!" I said and hugged him tight. "Better than yesterday?"

"Don't even make me remember." He said. "That was the worst hangover I've ever had in years! How's it going?"

"I'm good." I answered. He watched me closely.

"Bruises?" He asked with a smirk, which soon dissapeared. "You're not seeing your ex, are you?"

"Ew, no." I answered. "Why would I be?"

"Steve said that when you got here, Juan was waiting for you to talk." Sam answered. "And that he thought Steve was your new man."

"I'm not like him by any means." I said bitterly. "I think you wanna come in, I suppose."

"Yeah, sure." Sam answered and entered my apartment. "Are you going to get milkshakes with me today?"

"You promised me, didn't you?" I answered. He nodded. "Let me just put proper clothes on."

"And hide the bruises, please." He said. "I don't need a reminder that you had some and I didn't manage having any."

"Okay!" I said pulling the y at the end, after laughing loudly.

"So, who's this mystery guy that left you covered in bruises?" Sam asked while we were at the car. We were almost at the place.

He had borrowed one of the many cars in Tony Stark's collection, an old black Mustang. We were going to a special place for us - a really old milkshake place at Coney Island where Sam took me first time he came back home from Air Force services. I remember that day we watched a beautiful sunset while I talked about my high school sweetheart, who was José at that time. We never got to have a relationship, not even had sex, but we got an inseparable bond since then.

"You don't really need to know." I answered him after thinking if I should tell him that the man was his best friend and teammate. I thought it was better not.

"Why?!" He asked in a loud whine.

"Because it's none of your business." I answered with a laugh. "For now."

"What do you mean with "for now"?"He asked when we parked the car.

"I mean that I don't want to scare the guy away with the possibility of anyone knowing about us." I answered.

"Makes sense." Sam thought for a while and shrugged. He looked at me and wiggled his eyebrows. "Now, where were we?"

"Milkshakes!" We screamed together, like the teenagers we used to be.

-

"This keeps getting better and better with time." I said while drinking the red berries milkshake I held. Sam had a classic chocolate milkshake. He agreed with a hum.

"And with french fries, then?" He asked. "The definition of Paradise!"

"I love how this place brings me that nostalgic feeling." I said. "As if I was that hopeless romantic yet."

"And why you're not that hopeless romantic anymore?" Sam asked after throwing a french fry inside his mouth.

"I always thought that a relationship would be that movie thing, always the romantic cliche inside the chick flicks, you know?" I asked and he nodded. "But in the end feels like it's all about bitterness and cheating."

"Hey, darling..." Sam began and hugged me, kissing my head in a empathetic way. "Love isn't about cheating, it shouldn't be, at least... but people screw up."

"I know, right?" I said.

"People screw up and love isn't exactly a walk in Central Park in a sunny day." He said. "But what remains to us is believing in love as if we've never been heartbroken."

I thought a little about what Sam just said. My conclusion: he was damn right - I shouldn't give up on love because someone screwed up with me; even though I should give myself time to heal. I should just go with the flow, to see what would happen - with Steve and I, and mainly with myself.

"To love as if we've never been heartbroken?" Sam said, raising a french fry. I smiled and took a french fry.

"To love as if we've never been heartbroken." I said and we made a toast with our fries.

-

After the entire afternoon talking and having milkshakes, Sam left me at home, not before entering to use the restroom. I began to organize some stuff for tomorrow and laughed when I saw that the frame Steve and I knocked down while making out was still there.

I hanged it back on its place and went to my room so I could prepare for a night full of sleep. I took another shower to relax, wore a silky light pink nightgown and began to spread some mosturizer on my skin - it smelled like vanilla.

My night selfcare was interrupted by a knock at the door. Some things never change, I thought knowing that Sam could be forgetful of his keys and even his wallet.

"Samuel, did you forget your keys ag-" I began while knocking on the door, but there I saw someone different.

Wearing jeans, shoes and a tight fit white shirt, there was Steve. I was actually surprised when I saw him.

"Steven?" I asked.

"I couldn't stop thinking about you today." He said and pulled me to him. My arms laced his neck.

"Oh, really Capitán?" I said and he grabbed my butt, making me jump onto him. He closed the door and put me against it.

"Babygirl..." He warned. His eyes dark with desire.

"This time, please no visible bruises." I said.

"Okay." He said while kissing my neck.

"And let me lock my door." I said and stretched my left arm so I could turn the keys inside the lock. "Okay. Where were we?"

With no verbal answer, Steve and I shared a rough kiss while he carried us to my bedroom, so we'd have sex for that whole night.

A/N

"Has anyone seen Steve?" Sam asked when entering the compound's common room.

"He might be at the training room, I guess." Natasha answered taking her eyes from a book she was reading.

"No, I already looked for him there." He said.

"Have you been to his room already?" Bucky said not taking his eyes off of his new phone. He was actually playing Candy Crush, a phone game Scott had introduced him.

"No, I haven't." Sam answered. "I looked for him at the training room because he's more there than in his actual room."

"That's true." Wanda commented while walking through the TV channels trying to watch something interesting. Sam sighed.

"FRIDAY, where is Steve?" He asked.

"Mr. Rogers has left the compound for an hour and half, Mr. Wilson." FRIDAY answered.

"Did he tell where he was going?" Sam asked again.

"No, sir." FRIDAY answered. "But he took his motorcycle."

"Can you locate him, please?" Sam asked.

GPS system on - locate: Steven Grant Rogers

locating Steven Grant Rogers

GPS system for Steven Grant Rogers has been manually turned off.

"Steve turned off the GPS system?" Bucky asked finally taking his eyes off of his phone. "That punk can barely use a phone!"

"It appears he turned his phone off too." Wanda said.

"Have you ever thought that he doesn't want us to know where he is?" Natasha asked. She smirked after. "My guess is that he's hiding a girl."

"A girl?" Bucky and Sam asked in unison.

"Why else the Captain America would leave the compound on a Sunday night with no long missions scheduled?" Nat asked as in a matter of fact. "It's not to stop some thief from stealing a corner store or to stop some street gang from shitting around. There are people who already take care of that."

"So Cap has got a girl?" Sam said. "Holy shit."

"Yeah." Bucky said. "Now I wanna know who that might be."

"Everyone does." Nat said. Wanda looked at her. "Wanda can you come to my room for a second? We need to talk."

"Yeah, sure."

After Wanda and Nat entered the elevator and the doors closed, Nat looked at Wanda and left out a laugh.

"How come Sam is that clueless?" She asked and Wanda laughed while leaving the elevator.

"Don't even tell me!" Wanda said while they walked to Nat's room so they would watch a movie. "We can't blame him though."

"Yeah but" Nat began. "If you get one and one, you can make two, right?"

"Or three" Wanda said and shrugged. "Maybe four."

"Jesus, Wanda." Nat said. "Can you imagine what might happen if Steve puts a baby inside Y/NN?"

"I don't even wanna know." Wanda answered. "But the way that those two go at it like rabbits, I don't think they will take long."

"Oh, that will be fun." Nat said after thinking for a while.

Tags: @coal000 @supersoldierfreak @sp2900 @id-rather-be-sleeping95 @cassiopeia-barrow

[fuzzballsheltiepants]

Hey! Combine 46: “ Can I kiss you right now? ”57: “ Is that my shirt? ”59: “ You own my heart. ” with your choice of jerejean or jeaneil ♡♡♡♡♡

I had too much fun with this!  It’s unedited and I’m exhausted so forgive any stupid mistakes:

Jeremy slammed his laptop shut and glared at the lid with its stupid smug rainbow Trojan decal.  He was halfway tempted to test its aerodynamics out his upstairs window, but he didn’t want the hassle of buying a new one.  And it wasn’t precisely the computer’s fault that that ridiculous reporter hadn’t been able to keep her mouth shut.  Or that he had watched the interview on repeat half a dozen times, and it didn’t get better with familiarity.

He pulled out his phone and started to tap out a text, but it was coming out all wrong and he slammed the little backspace button aggressively.  Screw this. He’d go take a shower, blast his music as loud as he wanted, and when he finished all of this bullshit would be behind him and he could make dinner in peace.

It sorta/kinda worked, at least until he came back downstairs in his favorite oversized shirt and threadbare sweatpants, hair still wet, humming Wait For It under his breath.  His phone binged at him; he checked it reflexively and saw a text from Kevin Day of all people.  He didn’t even read the damn thing, just let the phone fall; it bounced off the edge of the table, hit the chair on the way down, and landed, face down, on the tile floor.  

Figured.  

He had planned on some broiled fish and veggies with that passably-edible whole grain couscous his nutritionist had hooked him up with, but there was no way in hell he was eating that now.  Luckily there were some onions, a habanero, and a packet of ground beef in the fridge, and his mother had sent him her home-canned tomatoes a few weeks ago.  

If ever he needed to make chili, today was that day.  It didn’t take long before the familiar aroma of sauteing onions was wafting through the whole first floor. There was something so comforting about the routine of chopping and frying, the scents and the sounds.  After a few minutes, his heart rate had slowed enough that he went and snagged his phone off the floor.  By some miracle, the screen hadn’t cracked.  Okay.  One good thing today.

Cranking Hamilton back up, by the time he was stirring in the tomatoes he was bopping along with the music.  He had gotten into it with one of the defensemen on his team over Hamilton, but he defied anyone to really listen to it and not get completely entranced.  Jeremy lacked the willpower not to sing along; he didn’t even give a shit that he absolutely sucked.  “I am not throwing away My. Shot.  I am not throwing away. My. Shot.”  He spun around in the kitchen, holding his wooden spoon like a microphone—only to discover Jean standing, bemused or amused, in the doorway.

Jeremy immediately hid the spoon behind his back, and Jean’s beautiful mouth twitched up.  “Is that my shirt?” Jean asked, surveying Jeremy.

“No,” Jeremy said.  Jean raised one eyebrow.  “It was your shirt, but I have claimed it in the name of missing you.”

Jean laughed and dropped his suitcase to come into the kitchen.  Jeremy tossed the spoon onto the counter and let Jean pull him into his arms.  “I missed you,” Jean murmured into his ear.  

“Me too.  I didn’t think you’d be back until later.” 

“I caught an earlier flight.”

Jeremy wasn’t precisely short, but Jean could still rest his cheek on the top of his head and standing like that was Jeremy’s favorite thing in the world.  He wanted to stay there for the rest of time, or at least until bedtime, but after a not-long-enough moment Jean released him.

“It’s a chili night?”

“Yeah,” Jeremy said, looking over his shoulder at the pot just beginning to bubble.

“What happened?”

Ugh, Jean knew him too well.  Jeremy went over to stir the chili and turn the heat down on the stove; he felt like he was being eaten alive from the inside out, all interest in food devoured by the parasite of anxiety.  “You saw the interview?”  It was almost impossible to meet Jean’s eyes; it would have been unforgivable not to.

“I did, mon cher.  You did brilliantly.”  There was no lie in his beautiful gray eyes, but Jeremy literally did not know how he could say such a thing.  He almost wondered if Jean had missed the all-important last two minutes.

“I outed us.”

Jean nodded.  “Yes, I noticed.”  There was no humor in his voice, no dismissal, no censure.  “But given the disgusting things they were asking about Laila and Sara, I don’t blame you.  I probably would have been far less…diplomatic.”

The gnawing creature in Jeremy’s gut quieted.  It had been appalling, the way the woman had tried to goad him into trashing his former teammates.  And her jaw-dropped shock had been rather amusing when, instead, he had calmly informed her that no, he did not believe that they were setting a poor example for young girls, and that if they were then so were he and Jean, and honestly half of professional exy.

“Can I kiss you right now?” he blurted out.

Now Jean did laugh.  “I didn’t think you needed to ask.”  He closed the gap between them.  

He would never get tired of this feeling.  It had been years since Jean had showed up in California, a battered shell of a person, his soul retreated into the deepest crevices in an attempt to survive.  Every moment since then had been a small miracle, but kissing Jean—the fact that somehow he had managed to earn Jean’s trust and love—well, that was the eighth wonder of the world.    

Somehow he managed not to burn the chili, and they spent the rest of the night talking.  About Jean’s trip to New York; about the movie they had been wanting to see; about the end of the season and their plans for the few weeks before their national teams called them up.  Jeremy still couldn’t believe that if all went well they’d be playing against each other in the Exy World Cup tournament, but so it was.  And then they spent time not talking much at all.

Later, so long past midnight Jeremy couldn’t even believe the clock, he lay curled onto Jean’s chest, listening to the slow thud of his heart and letting the tension of the past twenty four hours dissipate into nothingness.  None of that bullshit mattered anyway, not when he had this.

Just before he fell asleep, Jean murmured something in sleepy French.  Jeremy wasn’t so good at French, and it took him a few moments to piece this together.  When he did, tears started in his eyes.  You own my heart.  

Jeremy tucked himself in impossibly tighter to Jean’s side, thinking of the ring he had bought while Jean was in New York, that would be ready to be picked up tomorrow.  “You own my soul,” he whispered, then let himself drift off into dreams.

[a-strange-world]

I Lost My Grace - Chapter 2

Summary : When an angel becomes human, there’s a lot to learn and discover. For him, but for you too.

Pairing : Future Castiel x Reader ?

Word count : 2,140

Warnings : None.

[Note 1 : Okay, first of all, this is my first fanfic that I post on tumblr so pleaaase be indulgent. Also, I apologize if there are spelling mistakes or agreement errors or whatever else. I’m a french woman and I don’t have a perfect level in english, but I would love to improve it. So, if there is any mistake, just let me know and I’ll correct it :)

Note 2 : I wanted to try something in this chapter about the way of writing (check the italic and bold type text (some sentences are from the original script by the way, not mine)). The scene is very clear in my mind but I don’t know if I transcribed it well. I hope you’ll understand what I wanted to do. In any case, don’t hesitate to tell me if it’s comprehensible or not.

Note 3 : Okay, I stop the “blabla” now and let you read the chapter ! :) I hope you’ll enjoy it. I’ll try to post the next as soon as I can ! Oh and don’t hesitate to send a feedback ! I would be glad to know what you’re thinking about the chapter. I wish you a nice reading ❤ ]

Cas is human.

You couldn't realize it. Castiel, angel of the Lord, who had saved Dean from Hell and Sam from madness, who had fought by your side against demons, leviathans and even angels, was now human.

His face suddenly popped in your mind. Those eyes. Once again, you could see so many things in them.

Distress. Pain. Emptiness. Your own old demons.

You hated the fact that Castiel had to feel all these terrible feelings. He didn't deserve all this suffering and most of all he hadn't been prepared for that. You didn't know how he would react but you were sure about one thing : it wouldn't be good. You knew too well these feelings and their consequences. You had experienced them before and they hadn't been a good phase of your life. Not at all. You just hoped that Castiel would not live what you did.

At the thought, you instantly felt your eyes getting wet and you bit your bottom lip, trying to control yourself. Not now (Y/N).

You focused on your breathe, letting in and out the air in your lungs very slowly and finally managed to get back your composure.

That's better. You thought to yourself. I have to be strong. For him. He will need the three of us to overcome this situation.

You paused a moment, starting to remember all the hard times he went through. Lilith, the apocalypse, the civil war in heaven, the purgatory... He had survived to everything.

He is brave and strong and good. Being human will not change anything of that. He will survive to this too. And I'll be there for him, like I'm here for Sam and Dean. I'll pay attention to every single of his needs. I will do everything I can to help him and he will be ok. Everything will be o-

The sound of footsteps approaching suddenly cut your thoughts and you blinked a couple of times, knowing that it would help you to come back to reality. Then you looked down at your hands to see that without even realizing it, you had finished the batter's preparation.

"So, what are you cooking for us, little head chef ?" Dean asked while he rubbed his hand against the top of your head, causing your bun to get messy. You faked to grumble in frustration, hiding your smile from Dean. You didn't want him to know that you loved when he did that. That it conforted you and made you feel really part of their family, like a little sister.

You felt Sam coming closer to you and watching over your left shoulder. "Flour, eggs, milk..." He started to enumerate, noticing all the ingredients that were placed on the countertop. "Oh wait, I think I know." He started to say proudly. "Is that-"

"Salty pancakes !" You said joyfully, knowing well that the boys loved that recipe.

"Oh God bless you ! And pancakes too !" Dean exclaimed, raising his fist toward the sky after having kissed it.

"You. Are. The best." Sam stated with a big grin.

You chuckled at their reactions.

"I thought that it would be a good..." Your voice lowered. "first meal for Cas." You ended your sentence in a whisper, the words hurting your throat and the memories hurting your heart.

"Of course it is, (Y/N)."

You raised your head to look at Sam who was smiling at you. You perfectly knew this smile, this look, this face. He knew. And he knew you knew he knew. He always guessed your feelings. It was like this with Sam. He had this "super" empathy that made you feel naked but safe at the same time. And more you tried to hide your emotions, better he understood what was happening in your head. It was destabilizing at first but you were now used to be an open book to him. He wasn't your friend for nothing after all.

"So." Sam said, changing the subject on purpose. "Do you need help ?"

You faked to think about the proposition before answering. "Actually yes. Dean, can you take care of bacon's and egg's cooking ?" You asked him.

"Sir, yes sir !" He said abruptly, saluting you military way what made you smile.

"And Sam, what about making some salad with it ?" You suggested, exchanging a knowing look with him.

"Oh no !" Dean suddenly spoke before Sam could say anything. "Please, don't tell me that this meal will contain some green healthy things." The eldest brother said, looking desperate.

"Haha, I think it will !" Sam replied, winking at you.

"Compromises Dean. Compromises." You said with a laugh.

You perfectly knew that all of this was just an act. Smiling, joking like nothing had happened earlier. In fact, it had always been your way to escape the reality and its hard times. Sometimes the three of you simply needed to relax and think about anything else that the daily crap. And today you really needed that. Castiel really needed that.

You felt your heart clenching at the thought

"How is he going ?" You asked to Dean with sad eyes.

"I..." Dean sighed. "I don't know, it's hard to tell." He went to the fridge and opened it, searching for the bacon's box. "I explained him how to use the shower, how to regulate the water temperature, how much use shampoo etc. I think we'll have to do that with everything now." He suddenly straightened up, his head only poking out above the door fridge. "And before you too are saying anything, I tell you : I won't be the one who will explain how to flush the toilet !" He said, laughing a little while returning to his task.

A sad smile crossed your face, knowing that behind the joke, Dean was really concerned about his friend. Humor was his best defense against any emotional stuff.

"Ah got it !" He suddenly exclaimed, finally finding the box. "Anyway. I think it won't be easy. When I left him, he seemed still in shock. I never saw him like that before."

"Yeah. Me neither." You replied quietly.

You saw Dean contorting himself as he was going deeper in the fridge. He muttered something inaudible - where you just heard the words "Damn it !" and "this shit" - then he finally get out of it with a bag in his hands, a disgusted expression on his face.

"Ew..." He said while putting the salad in Sam's hands.

You shook your head and smiled at his funny behavior while Sam rolled his eyes.

"You're really a lost cause, ya know." Sam said what made you giggle.

The three of you were going to focus on your respective task when you realized that something were missing for doing yours.

"Oh Sam, wait ! Just before you start, can you grab me the frying pan please ?" You didn't wait more of 4 seconds until he was handing it to you.

"Thank you." You said to him as you grasped the pot. But instead of letting go of the pan like he would have to, Sam had a tight hold on it. Slightly destabilizing by the unexpected force, you looked at him to discover that he was totally still, his gaze locked on something unmaterial in front of him.

"Sam ? You're okay ?" You asked, suddenly worried.

Dean moved in front of his brother. "Sammy ! Hey !" He said, starting to shake his left shoulder with one hand.

"Yes, Sam is fine." Sam finally answered with a neutral tone while putting the pan on the countertop.

There was one second of silence during time seemed suspended, before Sam's eyes moved again and fixed on you and Dean. His face wasn't reflected any emotion, it was just like a stone. Hard, cold and empty. That's when you understood what was going on. Ezekiel.

"Ezekiel." Dean repeated your thought out loud. "You know that we discussed about this, don't ever do it like tha-"

"Castiel cannot stay here." Ezekiel proclaimed, cutting Dean off.

The statement made you freeze. Your heart skipped a beat as you instinctively held your breathe, your body's reactions following the state of shock of your brain.

In the corner of your eyes, you saw Dean shaking his head then frowning. "Wait what ?" He said, not believing what he just heard, just like you.

"Castiel cannot stay here." The angel repeated patiently. "He will bring the angels down on all of us."

Your eyes fixed upon the angel again and all your suspicion about him came back to the point.

"No, no, he's got the Enochian tattoo. He's warded."

You never trusted him. You just couldn't.

"He was warded when some angels found him, and tried to kill him."

There was something in him that was bothering you.You didn't know what exactly.

"Yes, I know that, but this is Cas, okay, who vouched for you when I didn't know you from Jack. The bunker is safe."

Of course, Dean have had his own doubts when you first met Ezekiel. You two agreed about one thing : there was no coincidence. You couldn't believe that just when you needed it, an angel just presented himself right away with a solution, without any ulterior motive. It was way too good to be true.

"Bartholomew is massing a force. We cannot stand an incursion. Castiel is in danger, and if he is here, I am in danger."

But the strange situation wasn't really what setted you thinking. It was more a feeling. A terrible bad feeling that was eating you away since the first day.

"Wait, you're in danger? From who, the angels?"

You couldn't explain it but you were deeply convinced that there was something wrong with the angel.

"If he stays, I am afraid I will have no choice but to leave."

You couldn't explain it but you always felt that something were...

"Oh, no, you can't do that. Sam's not well enough. If you leave his body..."

... fake.

"I know. I am sorry."

The last words suddenly cut your thoughts and brought you back to reality. You felt your checks starting to burn red, anger flewing through your veins. Sorry ? He was sorry ?

“Okay, that's enough." You interrupted them. "Listen to me carefully, Zeke !” You said with a revolted face when your mouth prononced his name. “I don't know what's on your mind and what you're planning but let me tell you that." You made a pause to let some air filling your empty lungs. "YES, we need you to heal Sam and bring him back in one piece. YES, you are our last hope for this. But NO, this act doesn’t give you the right to order that Castiel has to leave. HE is our friend. Don’t forget that YOU are still alive only because we need you to keep SAM alive ! I could simply kill you right now !" You finally said, raising your blade from under your top and placing it on Sam's throat.

You detected a slight flinch coming from Ezekiel but he didn't let anything appear on his face. And as your gazes were silently fighting, you could feel your own eyes slowly getting wet due to the outpouring of emotions.

"Wow wow, (Y/N). Hey, calm down okay ?" Dean spoke to you quietly while grabbing carefully your hand to push it away from his brother's body.

"I am calm. I just want to be sure that this stupid and selfish angel understands well my thought." You replied, still holding the gaze of the angel.

You felt Dean's hand slowly pulling yours, forcing you to step back.

"Threatening me will not change anything (Y/N)." Ezekiel said, looking at you emotionless. He then turned toward the older brother and stated once again. "If Castiel stays, I will leave."

The ultimatum let Dean voiceless. You could read so easily his pain on his features as he didn't know what to do. Castiel, his best friend. Sam, his brother.

"Know what ? I'm done with it !" You intervened just as he was opening his mouth to speak. "We won't choose between the two of them. If Cas has to go, then I'll go with him ! I will not let him all alone, especially now. This is the time when he most needs us." You paused, looking at both of them. "I guess that everybody will agree with this." You concluded in a low voice.

You then turned toward the countertop to finish cooking the pancakes, not wanting to talk to the angel anymore.

"I suggest Sam should look after Cas to see if he's okay." Dean said to Ezekiel and you heard footsteps moving away from the kitchen.

Tag list : @thehoneybeecastielfollows