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inevitably-ineffable-husbands · 9 months

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Crowley's Past: Was He Archangel Camael?

With S2 now having been out for a few weeks, and the theories running wild, I think one of the unanimous beliefs within the fandom is that Crowley was SOME sort of Important Angel Before™. I touch upon the MANY clues in the various parts of my initial GOS2 Thoughts Meta, so I won't go into too many of those here, but inevitably this separate meta started out as the pulling-and-expanding-upon of the Archangel Crowley theory, primarily the "Raphael" theory, since I have loved that theory to bits since its inception early post-S1.

That was until my friend Peter finished watching the season early last week, and presented to me an alternative theory as to Crowley's identity that I thought deserved its own post breakdown, since I haven't seen this theory before.

NOW, I should make it clear I haven't been as DEEP in the fandom as many of y'all since S1 aired, so it's probably come up before S2 as just a light mention, but I personally haven't seen anything, so what follows is a joint speculation between my real-life, not-in-GO-fandom-spaces-whatsoever friend Peter, and myself, with my contributions being the expansion of his theory and linking it to what we already know.

The theory is this: Crowley might actually be Archangel Camael.

Please, PLEASE note that I am aware that authors and writers change things for creative liberty and originality, so please take this entire theory with a grain of salt (or go nuts with me, I'm happy either way!).

I'll TRY to keep this concise, but y'all know me. You can skip right to the "Conclusion" for a point-by-point breakdown if you don't want to read everything, but I hope you'll at least give me a chance to explain within the body of this meta.

I apologize in advance if any of my thoughts are a bit scattered. Here we go:

The Initial Text

Here is the initial text Peter sent to me after he finished watching S2 (and this was after I mentioned that the popular running fandom theory is that he's actually Raphael):

Okay… well - disclaimer I did not go to religious school and my biblical studies were a great many years ago. As I recall Lucifer was not one of the 7 archangels - he was meant to be but he rebelled before he was appointed (and there is some wiggle for a fictional story). So, based on what we have seen Crowley was one of the 7 but he hung out with the wrong people and asked too many questions. He never says his real name when we see him as an angel it is comically dodged - for a good reason. Crowley has a login and proves he had clearance way above a level 37th angel. He can see the top most important meetings… like he may have been allowed to attend in a previous life… And one line sticks out to me “one fallen prince has already gone to Hell. Two shows a problem.” As I stated Lucifer was not a Prince - we are not talking about him. Gabriel was banking on going to Hell like his “brother” - I’m guessing Camael, the one who Sees God - who ironically has cursed eyes now as a demon - the Prince of Fortitude (also Love and Charity). He often breaks his demonic spirit in cases of charitable needs or love. Crowley is one of the big Seven to be entrusted with creating the cosmos ;)

Naturally, this had a lot of things click for me, and I'm going to break them down below, with my additional research into the points that Peter made since he mentioned that he was going off memory.

Who Was Cameal?

When Peter mentioned this angel, it boggled my mind that I never actually recall knowing of this archangel. I went to a Roman Catholic school up until Grade 12, and with that comes Religious Ed classes, which also feature World Religions in the later grades. Funnily enough, I found out WHY I never heard of Camael:

Camael is not recognized by the Catholic Church due to the Vatican's decision to ban the veneration of angels not mentioned in the Bible [SOURCE]

Kind of explains why I only heard of Gabriel, Michael, and Raphael (which now adds another layer to a theory I will cover further down in "Does Crowley Remember?"), then.

Reading further:

[He] is the Archangel of strength, courage and war in Christian and Jewish mythology and angelology. [SOURCE] He is claimed to be the leader of the forces that expelled Adam and Eve from the Garden of Eden holding a flaming sword. However, in iconography he is often depicted holding a cup. [SOURCE]

A Flaming Sword, you say??? Interesting. Here's a good place to point out that there IS also a theory that Crowley and Aziraphale are one single archangel that was split into two (and Gaiman has stated that in original drafts of the original book, they were at first one character, so this fact might be an afterthought of that original idea). Also, interesting that this angel is depicted with a cup, traditionally used in Christianity to depict wine, which is Crowley's drink-of-choice. So, there's that.

Another standout point for me is the Adam and Eve bit (which I bolded above). The Snake of Eden is TECHNICALLY the instigator (the "leader") who encouraged the expulsion of Adam and Eve from the Garden. "Forces" in this reading of it could be the metaphorical definition of it; the knowledge of good and evil, and the desire to see beyond the Garden. AND also the Flaming Sword itself BEING the object of force given to the couple for protection.

Furthermore, Crowley's a strong and brave character, given all the shit he endures time and time again. Strength (and bravery for that matter) can mean many things: emotional strength, physical strength, possibly also a strength of character and an unwavering belief in the values one holds dear. I should also note that it's interesting that an angel of war, should Crowley indeed be this character, wants nothing to do with a war and is actively trying to stop one: an angel of War can absolutely NOT want a war, because he knows it's wrong.

And without the Angel of War up in Heaven to PREVENT any war at all? Well, they would just get all willy-nilly crazy on the idea of War without having any pushback on it, wouldn't they?

Kind of like how Gabriel was to be demoted (cast out) for denying Heaven a War. Funny old world, isn't it? Seems the parallels write themselves.

What's in a Name?

Because Peter mentioned the name meaning, I had to look into it myself, and indeed, one of the various meanings of Camael is apparently "he who sees God" in Hebrew.

As Peter stated above, I think this is very significant because it's seemingly only Crowley who has "demon" eyes that he himself cannot change. It's the ONLY part of him that always remains a constant, and why he is forced to hide them. We know from S1 and bits of S2 with Shax that other demons can change their eyes because we see them mimicking other humans time and again without the black eyes if they choose to.

Crowley's eyes could have been cursed specifically because was ordained as "the one who sees God" and possibly was the ONLY angel who ever "saw" a physical God in the literal sense (it's implied in the show that no one actually SEES a physical god). It's possible that Crowley being cast out literally burned his angelic eyes and left a visible scar that can't be fixed or erased – a forever-reminder of what he did and can no longer do. AND as the one who sees God, he indeed was a very high-ranking angel.

In the GO universe, I suspect he was indeed the FIRST Supreme Archangel, tasked with creating God's Vision (HAH) of the Universe. And when Crowley questioned what the point of creating such beauty was only for it to be destroyed, God (or, I suspect more likely, the other Angels) saw it as Crowley questioning their "vision" in the metaphorical sense.

Does Crowley Remember?

In light of Season 2, and some interesting exchanges and moments of Crowley with other angels, some people speculate (and as I watch the series more, I'm starting to also agree somewhat) that Crowley may not remember everything from Before.

Now, while I do like this theory a lot, and it makes sense with the context clues from S2, I don't think it's that he doesn't remember anything at all, however, as many versions of the theory postulates.

My speculation is this: what if, by having his Angelic Name removed from recognition in the Bible, and going through a similar Trial to Gabriel, THEN by Falling the traditional way, the memories are still there, but they're just a bit fuzzy and scattered? It could also explain why some of the other Archangels DON'T remember him... he was removed from the memories of other ranking angels (Saraqael is the only angel to seemingly remember who Crowley was, so I postulate that she WASN'T a top angel until fairly recently, because of the named angels in the next section).

The show brings up the Book of Life in S2 on several occasions, leaving me to believe that this will be an important item in the next season. What if the phrase "it will make it like you don't exist" literally means "don't exist in memories"? Maybe a Book of Life 1.0 existed at one time, and everyone who Fell was forgotten because their angelic names were removed. Because wouldn't that be more awful than never having existed? Remembering that you WERE something or someone, you had a name that you can't remember, that you WERE important to people and events, and having everyone around you who you considered family forget who you are? It's its own kind of personal Hell ... kind of like George Bailey in It's a Wonderful Life, a movie that references angels, funnily enough. And Crowley remembers the furniture being there but not where it all belongs. I think his memory haziness is also a side effect of Falling the traditional way (burning sulfer and all that jazz, possibly causes trauma amnesia?).

It's a stretch here, I know, but I thought I would put this one out there as a possibility as to what it could mean (given that Gaiman and Pratchett tend to "play on words" a lot, I think it is worth mentioning this as an alternative meaning).

In S2, when Gabriel was sentenced, the Trial stated that Gabriel would forget his time as Gabriel, but not his time as an angel. I think a similar thing happened with Crowley, only much more violently with the "burning the eyes out" and "staining his wings black" thing.

My friend Peter mentioned that the show avoided Crowley's Before-Name "to a comical degree". I reckon, rather, that Crowley just simply doesn't remember his Angelic name, and his changing of his demon names is him possibly trying to find an identity. I think he recalls it having started with a "C", maybe? And now he's a snake, so he's kind of crawl-y, must be "Crawley". As time moved forward and as he learned more and more about humanity, he changed is namee to fit in better. Having a full Human-esque name makes him feel more connected to the Humanity he prefers.

And because I'm a romantic sap at heart, I think he enjoys spending time with Aziraphale because perhaps some part of Azzie's presence helps Crowley remember bits and pieces of his broken memory. He is LITERALLY Crowley's Emotional Support Angel – remember Shax can read into people, it seems. Azzie brings comfort to him, and seeing another Angel that also questions the choices Heaven makes allows Crowley to feel less alone.

The Original Seven Archangels

It's brought up a couple to several times in S2 the point that "God loves sevens". I actually couldn't remember why Seven was such a big Biblical number so a bit of quick Googling reminded me that "Seven [...] communicated a sense of “fullness” or “completeness” [...]. This makes sense of the pervasive appearance of “seven” patterns in the Bible." (SOURCE).

And of course, after Peter had mentioned it, I had to look a bit more into who the Original 7 could possibly be. Wikipedia mentions it could be Michael, Gabriel, Raphael, Uriel, Camael, Jophiel, and Zadkiel.

Peter was correct in his assumption that Lucifer wasn't one of the original 7 archangels, so that leaves us with Raphael, Camael, Jophiel, and Zadkiel, if we're assuming that Crowley is one of these top Archangels.

I would also like to speculate that "God likes 7's" could also mean (if you allow me to reach a bit) "God's favourite angels are the initial 7". If Crowley happened to be one of these 7, it could explain why he's able to get into Heaven without raising alarm at all, why he still maintains his immense power that set off alarms in Heaven when it was used purposefully against Heaven, why he was able to access the Gabriel Files, and why Sarqael allowed Crowley to continue watching the Trial (because if God allowed Crowley access even when he's no longer an angel, then Sarqael has no reason to believe that he's still not important to God).

Perhaps, in Modern Day, only having four archangels making the decisions symbolizes that, indeed, God's not really calling the shots anymore – and hasn't been for a long time – and that the whole system is all broken and not complete.

It also begs the question: if Crowley was one of the Original Seven (if they are indeed going to go in that direction), what happened to the other three? Did they also suffer the same fates? Were they turned to Scriveners just like Gabriel was to be?

Here is where I will also throw out there that my random thought that Muriel possibly also may have been one of the other three, as my own expansion of this theory, but I digress.

Anyway, I think I found the original Fandom Wiki that Peter quick-referenced when doing his quick message to me, and it's very interesting:

How they were founded as a unit is unknown, but it is said that it happened during Lucifer's rebellion. When Lucifer rebelled against God, one entire choir of angels followed him and was lost. Many angels from other choirs also followed him in his rebellion. It is revealed that Lucifer was meant to be apart of the Seven Archangels as well, however, since his fall he was replaced by Camael.

Disclaimer here that I understand that Fandom Wiki isn't THE BEST resource, but we're also talking about a fictional story that loosely references actual scripture, so I think it's valid enough, heh.

But I bring this point up because Peter links it to Metatron mentioning the "Prince of Heaven" falling, as Gabriel as being "another" one. "Another one" what?? We have to assume that Metatron means another "Supreme Archangel" as holding the title of "Prince of Heaven", meaning Gabriel was NOT the first and only Supreme Archangel. I don't think Metatron is referencing Lucifer here. In fact, they deliberately avoid saying a name. We just ASSUME that it was Lucifer because that's the "common knowledge".

If GO is going to reference the theory that Lucifer actually fell BEFORE becoming an Archangel, then that means in my theory Crowley became his replacement of the Original Seven. And given that he was possibly the One (and only angel, in my above theory) Who Sees God, he was in-turn given the position of Supreme Archangel, charged with creating, again, God's Vision of the Universe.

I think having Crowley be the one who witnesses Gabriel's Trial is important if we're going on the theory that they are mirrors of each other in S2. What if:

Crowley ALSO had a similar Trial when he questioned God (or the other Archangels) about "what's the point of" the destruction of the universe, then subsequently saying "nah" to having Armageddon 6,000 years before the events of S1?;

In said Trial, Gabriel was a presiding member, and, given that we know his prior cruelty from S1, he voted on Camael being cast out in a vicious and cruel fashion "for betraying God". Thus, his eyes burnt and forever scarred to prevent him from ever seeing God again, had his name and memories removed from the Book of Life, and sent to on a one way trip to Hell. I speculate this because Trial-Gabriel certainly believe he was going to "Fall" that way. I'd also wager Camael/Crowley was the last angel to ever "properly" Fall, which is why the modern angels still think that they do it this way, rather than the way they planned for Gabriel. I realize that this point DOES contradict my theory about the other missing Archangels quietly being erased and reassigned, but perhaps BECAUSE Gabriel is SO High up the chain, they HAD no choice but to make an example of him. Perhaps Metatron just quietly deleted the other Archangels' original names without anyone's knowledge.

We now know from S2 that regardless of an angel's status, the angels will veto against anyone who goes against their interpretation of The Great Plan. We now also know that the "Supreme Archangel" is also a "title only" job that has benefits only if you're going to go with the Majority Vote. And if you don't, they're going to make an example out of you.

And I reckon Camael/Crowley, just like Gabriel after, tried to "go his own way" (as quoted by the Metatron) and got banished for it.

Aziraphale really now has himself in a pickle, and I suspect that he will figure ALL of this out when he gets there.

And finally because this is the "Sevens" section of this meta, I also want to mention these "a-bit-reaching-but-still-plausible-theories" that I came across while I was researching:

This tweet speculates that Gabe is morse coding "7"

Michael tweeted 7 dots after S2 aired

CONCLUSION

While this theory doesn't outright bust the Raphael Theory (since there are some similarities with Crowley and Raphael within the theory), as well as the "he was Lucifer" theory (which I also really like, but Crowley mentioned in S1 he was "hanging out with Lucifer and the guys" before he fell, so... I'm more apt to not really run with this theory). BUT it does tie up a lot more things, and it connects things better than the Raphael one does, in my humble opinion.

The TL;DR of this entire post is this:

I think Crowley was an Archangel, that is the only CERTAIN thing I feel.

I think he was Camael, The One (and only angel) Who (Literally) Sees God. He was the First Supreme Archangel who created God's Vision of the Universe.

I think that Camael questioned the Council of Angels why they need to destroy beauty that God created. It didn't make sense to him.

They told him about Armageddon (the S1 one). As the angel of war, and as the Supreme Archangel who had final say, he said "nah". And he tried "to go his own way" to avoid Armageddon.

The Council and Metatron did not like this, saw it as blaspheming against God. Camael then had a Trial similar to Gabriel's.

I think this all happened shortly after the war that sent down Lucifer and the other rebelling Angels, so Heaven was still VERY tetchy about anyone who questioned God and The Great Plan. Because Camael was a Supreme Archangel, the original Prince of Heaven, this was seen as SEVERE betrayal of the Council. For the record, I think the "Before the Beginning" sequence takes place AFTER the War that created Hell.

My belief about the Book of Life is that its ACTUAL purpose is to remove people from being remembered, which is far worse of an existence for someone banished. A metaphorical interpretation of "removed from existence" simply could mean "and everyone forgot about you", à la It's a Wonderful Life, a movie that references "angels getting their wings".

Camael was sentenced in a way that would make an example of him to other angels to remind them of their place: He was cast out of Heaven, his angelic name erased from the Book of Life which caused his other Council Members at the time to forget him, and for him to have foggy memories in turn, although he KNOWS he was an angel (perhaps as a side effect of being cast out the traditional way, you are forced to remember that you once lived in Heaven). His eyes were burnt out to quite literally leave an unremovable scar so he could no longer "see" God and their vision, which explains why Crowley cannot ever change his eyes regardless of how he presents himself. He has to hide them away.

I think Crowley was the last angel to be cast out in this way. BUT because his ANGEL name was erased, none of the remaining Original Council angels (Gabriel, Michael, and Uriel) recognize him. I suspect Sarqael remembers him because she was NOT an Archangel at the time since she was not one of the Original Seven Archangels.

I also suspect that there are purposely missing Archangels for a reason, and the fact that only 4 rather than 7 seemingly run things symbolizes the problems in Heaven and that God has not been in charge for a long time. I think those missing 3 or 4 are actually Scriveners, who were quietly sentenced and erased by the Metatron, hence why Gabriel thought that he was going to be cast out like his predecessor. But because Gabriel WAS a Supreme Archangel, he HAD to be made an example of, just as Crowley before.

"Supreme Archangel" is a Title-Only job, and if you go against the Council, you are indeed made an example of. I think this is purposeful setup for S3 to show that Azzie is in DEEP shit.

EPILOGUE

I still want to expand upon my Angel Theory section from my S2 Meta, but for now, I am so pleased with how this turned out, and I hope you've enjoyed this Deep Dive into another Archangel Theory. I had a lot of fun with this one; I like learning about supernatural things, it's always interesting.

I am interested in others' thoughts on this theory, especially if your memory of your religious education is a bit better than mine! Feel free to expand upon this more, because I am an interactive blog, so it will be added to the post! <3

I hope you enjoyed, and thank you for reading!

#good omens #good omens s2 #long post #spoilers #archangel crowley #crowley is camael #good omens meta #go meta #my meta #my theories #angel crowley #crowley was an archangel #go speculations #go theories #go s3 speculations

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taeken-my-heart · 4 years

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Moirai Chapter 16

Summary: On your 18th birthday a name appears on your wrist. The name of your soulmate. It’s a momentous day that everyone looks forward to, but you’ve always brushed aside; refusing to believe in a fickle mistress called destiny. But what happens when on the morning of your 18th birthday you wake to find the name of your mortal enemy? Jeon Jungkook.

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader Genre: Soulmates au/ Enemies to lovers au. Angst, fluff, bickering, romance, eventual smut.

Word Count: 7995

NOTES: This is THE chapter so buckle in. You’re welcome and also…I’m sorry, hahahaha.

Also, thank you so, so much to @johobi and @hobios for helping me with the draft of the smut scene. Your thoughts and critiques helped me so much and I’m really grateful!

You weren’t sure if people could smell like bus, but if they could then you most certainly did. An hour bus ride home with a small overnight bag was uncomfortable enough, but the guy next to you fell asleep about half way through and your shoulder became his unfortunate pillow.

He wheezed in his sleep and you’d tried to wriggle your way from underneath him but he was much bigger and heavier than you and if you wriggled too much the bushy red beard attached to his face would have made its way into your own.

Your dad was at the bus station waiting for you when you arrived. The sleeping man had yawned and stretched as if he hadn’t just been invading your personal space for the better part of 30 minutes before standing and disembarking.

You smiled at your father in relief as he waved from beside the car before making your way over, slinging your bag over your shoulder.

“Hey dad.” You smiled, giving him a big hug and he squeezed the air right out of your lungs with a laugh.

“It’s been too long, baby girl!” He grinned, ruffling your hair and you frowned.

“You should know to never touch a woman’s hair.” You huffed.

“Your mom likes it.” He shrugged with a wink and you grimaced.

“Ew, dad, too much information.”

The car was stuffy with late summer heat but your dad turned the ac on quickly and put the car in reverse. The scenery was all mostly as you remembered; the suburbs didn’t really change much, it seemed. A new house here and there, a restaurant you’d never seen before, but otherwise it seemed trapped in time.

It was comforting and a little unnerving all at the same time. You felt like you were traveling back in time with a fresh set of eyes. A strange sense of déjà vu settled over you; like suddenly you had a do over.

“Once we get home we’ve gotta get ready to go over to the rehearsal. Your mom and sister are already over there helping set some things up.”

“Sure,” you nodded, “I’ll just drop my bag in my old room and we can go straight from there.”

Your bedroom looked different these days. The bedding was the same and there were still some of your old awards and pictures hanging on the walls, but most of the things that gave a room personality and injected the feeling of being lived in had been removed when you’d gone off to college.

You really hadn’t been back to this bedroom much in the last 12 years. Between your bachelor’s degree, medical school, and now working in the city, you hadn’t had the time or even the inclination. Besides, you’d moved in with Jimin not long after the two of you had started dating so it hadn’t made sense to go back home at that point.

You dropped your bag on your bed, the blanket looking as though it hadn’t been used since the day you’d moved out. You didn’t have time to examine anything further or feel nostalgic so you left your room quickly, heading back out to the car where your dad was waiting.

The wedding venue was large and bright; much like your sister. You could see her at the front of the dining hall, directing someone who was hanging fairy lights from the ceiling and looking beautiful in her daisy yellow sundress and white sandals. You felt underdressed in your jeans and tank top, but you’d only brought one other outfit and that involved sweatpants, so beggars couldn’t be choosers.

“Oh, Y/N, there you are!” Your mother called and Ella switched her gaze to you, smile growing as she ran to you. You were surprised she didn’t break an ankle in those shoes, but she’d always been the more graceful of the two of you.

“You made it!” She squealed, jumping up and down and you giggled into her hair as you clung tightly back. “I mean, of course I knew you would, but I’m so glad you’re here!”

“I wouldn’t miss this for the world!” You grinned, hugging your mom as she came to greet you. “So, where do you need me?”

“We’re almost done, actually.” Ella said, sweeping her hair over her shoulder and looking far prettier than was reasonable while doing so. “Michael is just with the caterer now making sure everything over there is sorted. We’re going to start the rehearsal as soon as Mindy gets here. She’s helping the florist bring the last of the roses.”

“Sounds pricey.” You grinned and your father clutched at his heart.

“Let’s not talk about it.”

Mindy made her way in a few minutes later, long blonde hair piled on her head in a messy bun that she made look classy and a large bouquet of red roses clutched in her hands. She’d been Ella’s best friend since beauty school and even though she was a little ditzy and filled with a few too many giggles, she was really nice and super loyal.

“Hello!” She greeted enthusiastically, placing the bouquet down on a nearby table and blowing a strand of hair from her face. “It’s so nice to see you again!”

She gasped, running to give you a hug and you smiled, patting her back gently.

“It’s nice to see you too, Mindy. How have you been?”

“So good!” She smiled, “just doing hair and dating cute boys.” She giggled again and you smiled, squeezing her arm.

“Sounds like fun.”

Ella’s wedding planner called everyone over, directing people to their places and the rest of the rehearsal went smoothly. The rehearsal dinner included the whole wedding party as well as the Jeon’s because they’d always felt like family anyway.

Jungkook had just arrived shortly before dinner started and he’d sat with Michael and his groomsmen so you hadn’t had much of a chance to talk. Not that you had anything to say, anyway. You’d stepped into a weird part of your relationship that you weren’t sure how to navigate.

You didn’t hate him anymore, but you wouldn’t call him a friend, either. It was like awkward teenage stumbling’s when you’re first trying to get to know your crush. You hated it a little bit.

The end of the night brought with it warm goodbyes and promises to see each other tomorrow afternoon. You were filled with laughter, good food, and a little bit too much wine, but you were excited for the morning.

Ella had decided to spend the last night of her single life back in her childhood bedroom and the two of you giggled and talked late into the evening before retiring to bed. You felt good and warm, wrapped up in the blankets of your childhood bed, but happy memories can only hold off the bad for so long and soon you were drifting to sleep with the thought of Jimin’s smiling face and a plus one spot that was now empty.

The silent ache in your chest was persistent. As the sun crept through your old bedroom window and across your bed you sighed, staring up at the soft white curtains and chewing on your thumb nail. This was not how you’d imagined yourself feeling on the morning of your little sister’s wedding. You should have been overcome with happiness for her, but all you could feel was misery.

Sad that in the end, a man you’d loved so deeply, who had professed his own love for you, had decided that he did suddenly believe in soulmates. What was worse was that you understood and were now going to be stuck at a table with your own soulmate for who knows how many hours feeling sad, uncomfortable, and every other emotion that was far from joy on your sister’s big day.

You felt selfish; ruminating in the mess that was your current situation. You could hear the faint shuffling sounds of feet on the other side of your door and you listened softly as someone stepped into the bathroom, turning on the fan as they closed the door.

It wasn’t doing you any good just laying here, you weren’t going to fall asleep with such heavy thoughts so, heaving a sigh, you stood and trudged your way downstairs and to the kitchen to make a cup of coffee.

You were going to need the caffeine to even pretend that you were happy about anything this morning. Just as the button clicked off and you were removing the pot from its base you heard shuffling in the hallway behind you.

“You’re up early!” Your sister remarked as she stepped into the kitchen.

“So are you.” You mumbled over the rim of your cup. Too bitter. Where was the cream?

“I couldn’t sleep,” she gushed, “I’m just too excited. I can’t believe the day is finally here!”

You nodded, staring into the swirling amber of your cup as you placed it carefully on the counter top. “Yeah, it came crazy fast.”

“It’s amazing how this time last year Michael and I didn’t even know each other.” She hummed excitedly and you smiled softly at her.

“Life changes so quickly, right?”

“It seriously does! One minute you’re wondering whether or not you even have a damn soulmate and the next thing you know he’s there, completing your life in a way you never thought possible.” She looked at you and as if suddenly realizing what she was saying she looked down sheepishly at her hands. “I mean, not that you can’t be complete without someone, of course.” She mumbled lamely and you smiled.

“It’s ok,” you murmured, “I get it.”

“This is all such bad timing for you.” She frowned, “I’m so sorry, this must be really hard.”

“Don’t be sorry!” You sighed, stepping around the island to grab her hand. “Yeah, my life isn’t exactly how I imagined it but that should have no bearing on your big day. Today is all about you and Michael, it’s a really special time when you get to marry your soulmate. We should be celebrating it, not thinking about me.”

“I know,” she said softly, “but I feel bad. The Jeon’s are going to be at the table with us, Y/N, and you’re just expected to sit there with him and watch your little sister marry her soulmate while your own is…anyway. It’s just not fair.”

“Life isn’t fair,” you smiled sadly, “but we can either give up, lay down and die, or we can decide to be happy no matter what.”

“You have such a good attitude.” She said, lip trembling, “I’m not nearly as strong as you.”

“I’m afraid that strength comes from pain and I would never wish that on you. I hope you stay innocent and happy forever.” You grinned, pulling her into your arms and hugging her tight.

“I love you, Y/N, thank you for being here with me and helping me through this. It means a lot to me.”

“You’re my sister,” you replied, pulling back to look at her, “literally nothing could have stopped me.”

“Well, let me do something for you then. I want to do your hair and makeup!”

“Oh no, not on your wedding day!” You insisted. Your sister had gone on to become a very talented hair dresser and under normal circumstances you would never hesitate to allow her to fix the rat’s nest on top of your head, but not on her special day.

“I insist. Besides, I’m the bride so I can do what I want and I want to do your hair. I can’t have you disgracing my pictures with something simple just because you don’t know what you’re doing.” She teased and you grinned.

“Well, when you put it like that, it seems it would be rude to refuse.”

“Exactly!”

One hairstyle and your beautiful lavender maid of honor dress later, you were on your way to the venue with your mother and sister, your father insisting he’d help the groom with picking up his tux from the rental place. Your sister was lavish, her fiancé was not. She’d shuddered at the idea of a rental tuxedo but he had insisted.

After Ella had applied some simple makeup to your face, you’d stepped in to help your sister with her own. Not that she needed any help. Beauty school had taught her enough that she knew her way around a makeup kit.

The pews filled up quickly and Michael stood waiting, looking like the nervous groom he was. Ella was beautiful as she walked forward, a vision of white satin and lace. It was a bittersweet feeling, watching your younger sister marry; but you were proud to say you cried for all the right reasons.

Ella had hired a big band to play at the reception and they started off with an upbeat tempo jazz song that had people jumping up to dance. You grabbed a glass of champagne from one of the passing waiters, taking a deep breath and heading to your table. Jungkook was the only one sat there currently, both his parents and yours swinging eagerly to the beat in the middle of the fray.

You took your seat, which had of course been put right next to his, and took a careful sip of your drink. “They’re a beautiful couple.” Jungkook said and you nodded, humming.

“Yeah, they look good together.”

He turned to look at you, vision trailing slowly across your face and you resisted the urge to shiver. The pull towards him had been stronger recently, an inexplicable need to be close to him burned in your chest. You’d never heard of this sort of thing before; the burn of needing to be with your soulmate.

You’d always been told that you had the freedom to choose, that you would never be forced to be with your soulmate. No one ever told you it would hurt to not be with him, though. The ache that Jimin had left behind was becoming easier to bear but only because the pain of seeing Jungkook and not having him was somehow just as bad.

“You look beautiful, by the way.” He murmured softly. You looked over at him, leaning his forearms against the table and staring down at his fingers locked together.

“Thank you.” You mumbled. Clearing your throat, you looked away awkwardly, “you look handsome.”

You could see the heat in Jungkook’s face without having to look directly at him. His foot began to bounce awkwardly beneath the white linen table topper and you took a few large gulps of your drink to squash your nerves.

You weren’t even really sure why you were nervous in the first place. You’d known Jungkook all your life, seen him at his absolute worst and he’d seen yours too. There was no good reason for you to feel any nervous fluttering in the pit of your stomach. But it was there all the same.

Jungkook downed the rest of his drink before standing and turning to face you. “I would really like to dance with you…if you would let me.”

You looked up at him, smiling softly. “You know I’m a terrible dancer, I’d have to have a lot more champagne in me to set foot on that floor.”

“That can be done!” Jungkook insisted, holding his hands out in front of him to signal you wait before darting off to the open bar.

He returned a few minutes later with a small tray of liquor; two flutes of champagne and six shots of what you assumed was vodka. “To loosen us up,” Jungkook signaled to the shots, “and to chase down the taste.” A head nod at the champagne.

You chuckled, grabbing one of the shots and clinking it against his own before you both threw them back, hissing at the burn. “This stuff is awful.” He wheezed, eyes watering.

Nodding your agreement, you coughed. “It does the job.”

Two more shots down and one empty champagne flute later, you were feeling much less tension in your shoulders. The only thing that could have made it better was taking off your shoes and the relatively uncomfortable dress you were currently locked in. But even in your mildly inebriated condition you had enough decorum to know that was not cool at your sister’s wedding.

“Ok!” Jungkook said, slapping his hands together and startling you, “I don’t know about you, but I’m feeling way more inclined to dance.” He stood, holding out his hand to you and waiting, confidently, as though he knew you better than you did and was sure you would say yes.

Maybe he did know you better.

You took his hand, allowing him to pull you up and into the swaying bodies as the band began a slow song and then you were sinking into his chest, one hand wrapped around his shoulder and the other held securely in his own.

“You look really beautiful.” He said and you smiled.

“You told me.”

“I wanted to tell you again.” He said softly, “you should be told you’re beautiful every day.”

“Wow,” you chuckled, staring down at your feet, “did you swallow a romance novel or something?”

“No,” he grinned, “the alcohol is just making my tongue loose; spilling all the words I’ve been meaning to say.”

“Thank you, Jungkook.” You mumbled.

“Well now you should tell me I look beautiful too.” He smiled and you laughed loudly.

“Oh, the alcohol really is loosening your tongue.”

Jungkook grinned, “Come on now.”

“You look beautiful, Jungkook.” You smiled.

“Thank you.” He said softly, looking down at you. You wanted to look away, his gaze felt too intimate, but you couldn’t. Brown eyes pulled you right into their center, scorching you.

His hand in the center of your back was too warm, tightening and pulling you closer to his chest. You could see everything up close, the small scar on his cheek, long eyelashes blinking down at you, and a perfect cupid’s bow that for some strange reason, you couldn’t take your eyes off of.

The music had faded into the background, the people all but disappearing. Your head felt fuzzy and light and you watched in a daze as Jungkook’s eyes flickered from yours and down to your lips. It was so quick you almost didn’t notice.

“Can we talk in private?” He whispered before pulling you gently from the reception hall and around the corner. You could feel the alcohol sloshing around in your veins as you trailed after him into a vacant hallway.

Leaning up against the wall you watched him as he rubbed at his chin and into his hair, pacing the floor in front of you. 12 years really had done him so much good. He’d been a good-looking young man in high school, but age had made him devastatingly handsome and there was no way you could deny it.

“I’m not completely sober,” Jungkook started, “in fact I’m a little past tipsy, I’ll admit. I know my mind, though, and I’ve had you on it constantly for…well right now I can’t remember how long, but ask me again when I’m sober. Anyway, what I’m trying to say is that I want a chance to make things right, to be the man that you deserve. I want a chance to be in your life and to be important to you.”

“Jungkook, of course you’re important to me,” you started, but he lurched forward, crowding you against the wall and you looked up at him as he pushed your hair from your face.

“You don’t understand,” he whispered, “I feel like I can’t breathe without you. I feel so tied to you, like a marionette doll, all you have to do is tell me to dance. Being without you has started to hurt, and I don’t just mean like a broken heart. My whole-body aches when I’m away from you and it aches when I’m with you because in the end, I’m not really with you, am I? You still hate me.”

“I don’t hate you.” You murmured. “I’m afraid of you.”

“Afraid of me?” He questioned, eyebrows meeting.

“I’m afraid of the power you hold over me, how easy it could be for you to become my entire world and then shatter it; even worse than the last time. I’ve spent 12 years trying to forget the you-shaped hole you left in my heart. You’re not the only one aching, Jungkook.”

And just like that, the world caught fire, fingers sliding home into your hair as he pulled your lips against his. It was like a shot to the gut, an electric shock running through your veins. If you’d craved him before, you downright needed him now.

His mouth moved heatedly against yours, breathing you in as you wrapped your arms around his neck and his hands traveled down your back and over the curve of your backside, squeezing the supple flesh in his hands to elicit a much-appreciated groan.

You knew you should stop him, tell him that you were probably going too fast. There was a lot you needed to talk about and there was a lot of hurt that needed to be healed, but, honestly, you wanted him too.

This kiss felt different from others. It was filled with an undercurrent that was building, building, building from your stomach and spreading like water through your chest. It was too powerful how right it felt, his lips moving steadily against yours and his fingertips running along your lower back.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to kiss you.” He breathed, sliding his lips along your throat and kissing down to your clavicle. He sucked a bruise into the juncture of your neck and shoulder and you gasped, sliding your fingers into his hair. “To hold you.” A kiss against your cheek, “to touch you.” His lips pressed to your other cheek. “To just be with you.”

“In the biblical sense or the romantic sense?”

“All of the above.” He whispered against your lips before sliding his tongue back into your mouth and pushing you further against the wall. You felt him through his dress pants as he pushed his hips into yours and you felt like you’d been electrified.

Dizzy with desire, you pulled him closer to you, groaning into his mouth. “As much as I’m enjoying this, this isn’t exactly a private area.”

Jungkook pulled back slightly, looking around. “You’re right. Where can we go?”

“We can’t drive. Honestly, I’m pretty tipsy right now.”

“Me too.” Jungkook nodded, kissing along your jaw. “Let’s take a taxi.”

“Where?” You mumbled, kissing his chin softly.

“My parents’ place.”

You knew you shouldn’t, that you were very close to drunk and you’d likely regret it when you were sober again, but his lips on your body left you feeling even drunker than the alcohol.

His childhood bedroom was one you hadn’t seen since you were children, though you still barely saw it now as you were too busy stripping him of his suit and tie.

He was muscular, and you eyed him greedily wondering when he even had the time to work out with his schedule. You tried to run your hands down his stomach but he batted you away as he tugged your dress from your body and dropped it on the floor, pushing you down into the mattress.

“Eager?” You grinned and he looked up at you, gaze heavy.

“Like you wouldn’t even believe.”

You watched as he slowly undid his belt, eyes locked with yours before dropping it on the floor with a clink and returning to his zipper. He pulled it slowly down, pushing the fabric over his hips and onto the floor before stepping out of them and shucking them to the side.

“I like your Mario boxers.” You teased and he smirked.

“You’ve got a smart mouth.”

He leaned over you, kissing your lips before trailing a path down your chest and to the center of your breasts, fingers playing with your nipples through the lacy fabric of your bra. You sighed, eyes fluttering shut and back arching further into the warmth of his hand.

Jungkook moved his fingers behind you, pulling at the strap and slipping your bra from you, dropping it to the ground. He stared down at your chest; eyes wild with lust. “You’re beautiful.” He whispered, before kissing a path across it, over your nipple and to the other side before taking your nipple and sucking it between his lips.

“Oh!” You gasped, fingers digging into his shoulders and he nipped at your peaked flesh before kissing his way down to the line of your panties, rubbing his nose down the center and inhaling deeply.

You took a deep shuddering breath, watching as he placed a kiss and you shivered. There was no way you were going to survive this night.

Kissing his way to the waistband of your panties, he grabbed the fabric between his teeth and began to pull it from your hips. The tip of his nose had fire licking down your leg as it grazed your skin and you took a deep breath as he dropped your underwear over the side of the bed and returned to the middle of your legs.

“Open, please.” Jungkook murmured, pushing your legs apart gently before planting a kiss against your mound and you whined, heart racing.

His tongue flicked out, pushing through the seam of your lips and your hips lurched forward into the warmth of his mouth. He delved in further, holding your legs spread wide as he licked and sucked against your entrance, lips wrapping around your clit with a tug and you whined loudly.

He hoisted himself back over your face, flushed and panting and grinned. “Take off your boxers.” You said, watching as he happily complied, pulling the offending garment from his hips and dropping it to the ground with the rest of the clothes.

You wanted to pout at the sight. Jungkook was truly built to make all other men pale in comparison. He was impressive from his head to his toes and the thick appendage standing proudly between his legs was no different.

“Ready?” He asked, body crowding over yours in the bed and you nodded, feeling him prod your entrance with a whimper.

Jungkook wrapped his fingers around your thigh, pulling it high on his hip before pushing slowly into you. You gasped, skin tingling as he stretched your walls, Jungkook breathing into the side of your neck and kissing wet against your shoulder as his hips became flush with yours.

“Let me make you feel good.” He whispered, pulling out slightly before pushing back in and your whole body shuddered.

He swallowed your moans with his lips as he began to thrust shallowly, hand coming to greet your left nipple with a soft graze.

“Please.” You whimpered.

“What do you want? I’ll give it to you.” He whispered, nose skimming your cheek.

“Everything.”

You could feel his back flexing under the tips of your fingers and you ran your hands across his shoulders and into his raven hair, pulling gently.

He grunted, sucking on your bottom lip and thrusting a little harder and you shivered from pleasure.

“Jungkook.” You gasped, one hand clinging to the sheets beneath you as he pushed you further into the mattress with his hips.

“Say it again.” He murmured. “Say my name.”

“Jungkook.”

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to hear you say my name like that.” He panted, grinding his hips into yours.

“I didn’t know you ever thought of me.” You crooned, wrapping your other leg around his hip and lifting yours to meet his thrusts.

“You’ve been on my mind for years.” He admitted, kissing from the inside of your elbow to your shoulder. “Have you ever thought of me?”

You gasped as he hit a spot particularly deep inside you and ground against it. “Sometimes.” You admitted, seeking out his mouth and drowning in his taste.

“Can I go a little harder?” He whispered and you huffed a sigh against his lips as he swiveled his hips.

“Yes, please.”

He lifted himself up on the palms of his hands, pushing the hair from your face, “I wanna see your beautiful face when you cum.”

You blushed, body shivering at the notion just as he picked up speed, thrusting deeply into your center with groans and hisses of your name. You could already feel your orgasm building all the way down to your toes and the intensity scared you a little, but you could barely think about it as he kissed you sloppily, grabbing each rounded cheek of your backside and using it to grind himself heavily against your clit.

Your heart was beating wildly in your chest, fingertips tingling as something began to build in your chest. It was like nothing you’d ever felt before; an intense connection, a need to stay right here, with him. You could feel it around your heart, like a lasso, tethering you to him and it should have scared you, but in this moment, you realized you were falling for him.

You’d tried so hard to protect yourself from him, but no one had ever told you about this feeling; this need to be his and to have him in return. Jungkook kissed up the column of your throat, lips meeting yours once again as he gripped onto your thighs, pushing himself even harder into your center and you could barely see straight.

“Jungkook!” you moaned, body twitching. “You feel amazing.”

“So do you.” He choked, running a hand back down your chest and squeezing, “I’m not going to last much longer.” He huffed, breath stuttering against your cheek as he kissed it.

“Me too.” You admitted, running your hands down his back and across his thighs to curve under his ass and help him to thrust in harder.

Your skin felt hot, like sun baked cement in the middle of summer and you could feel your body starting to shiver in pleasure. Your toes curled, gasps of Jungkook’s name leaving your lips as he thrust in harder, and harder, and harder until you felt an explosion, traveling all the way up into your chest and out your fingertips as you called out his name.

You squeezed your eyes shut and saw only him behind tear filled lashes. Jungkook groaned one last time before shattering and painting your walls white. He shivered and slumped, laying still on top of you.

Just as your breathing steadied, he curled his arm beneath your neck, pulling your lips to his and kissing the life back into you, tongue swiping greedily against yours and you kissed him with just as much vigor.

“I’ll be right back.” He murmured, pulling from you with a wince before leaving the room and going into the hallway. You took a deep breath, shaky fingers pushing through your hair as you listened to him shuffling around in the bathroom.

A few moments later he returned, wet cloth in his hands and he kneeled between your legs. “Here, let me help you.” He said softly, and you watched, heart pounding as he cleaned gingerly between your thighs.

“I’m gonna go to the bathroom.” You murmured softly after he’d tossed the rag onto his old computer desk and he nodded, sitting back on the bed.

After peeing and washing your hands you stared at your reflection. Aside from sex mussed hair, a few hickeys, and kiss bitten lips, you didn’t look any different. You felt different, though. The connection was stronger and you could feel it in your bones.

Your heart felt so full, but the pain was still there, buried somewhere in the fog of a love you hadn’t realized had started building. You wrapped your arms around yourself tightly before sighing and making your way back to the bedroom.

Jungkook was still sat on the bed, staring down at his hands when you entered. He looked up at you, cheeks flushed with emotion (and probably some residual champagne). “Please don’t leave.” He whispered. “Stay the night with me.”

You paused, biting your bottom lip before nodding and padding over to him, bending down and kissing him quickly. “Scoot over, then.”

He smiled, pulling the covers back before scooting next to the wall and you curled into his side, shivering as he wrapped his arms around you, pulling your body flush with his. He looked down at you, pushing the hair away from your face and cupping your cheek. “Thank you.” He said.

“You’re welcome.” You smiled softly. He leaned down, kissing you gently.

“Good night, Y/N.”

“Good night.”

The first thing you noticed when you woke was the pounding in your head. One too many flutes of champagne could do that to a woman. The next was the definite presence of a weight across your waist and someone’s chest pressed to your back.

You tried not to whimper as you squeezed your eyes shut tighter. Perhaps if you didn’t open your eyes, none of this would be real. A soft sigh greeted the skin of your neck, a nose running along the column and you shivered.

Glancing over your shoulder, you noted that Jungkook was still asleep and you heaved a sigh of relief. At least you didn’t have to discuss what happened right this second. You weren’t even sure yourself.

Of course, you remembered what happened, how every taste and touch was like fire, consuming you. You remembered the rush of endorphins, the feeling of all-consuming love. But now that you were sober and the sun was casting light over the fog of your thoughts, you mostly felt fear.

Building a relationship on lust alone wasn’t healthy or possible and so far, that’s really all the two of you had together. The feelings had been strong in the moment, but without even a basic friendship to build on, you knew this would only end in more heart break.

So, you steeled yourself, slipping carefully from his grasp and dressing quickly. You glanced back at him, still sleeping soundly, hand splayed across the space where your body had been, before closing the door and walking softly down the stairs.

“Oh, Y/N, I didn’t know you were here!” You gasped, spinning to face the kitchen, clutching at your heart and looking at Mrs. Jeon who stood by the counter with a coffee in her hands. She smiled at you, a knowing look in her eyes and you wanted to shrivel up and die.

“I-I-I, yeah, I’m actually going now, though.”

“You should stay for a coffee. I’m sure Jungkook will be up soon.”

“I’m sure he will be.” You nodded, playing with a string at the side of your dress.

“Everyone deserves a second chance; don’t you think dear?” She asked suddenly and you looked up at her, cheeks flushing with shame.

“I suppose it depends on what’s been done.” You mumbled lamely, not daring to meet her gaze.

There was a soft lull in the conversation before she continued, “that boy really cares about you, you know. I can see you care about him too. I know there’s a lot of pain in the past, but being allowed to move on from it would be good for you both.”

You could hear hurried steps from the floor above you and you looked up in alarm. “I need to go!” You said, walking quickly to the door just as you heard Jungkook call your name from the top of the stairs.

You rushed down the front steps and made a run for it across the garden before heavy footfall and your name were greeting you once more.

“Wait!” Jungkook called, wrapping his fingers around your forearm and forcing you to a stop, a whimper falling from your lips. “Where are you going?” His eyes screamed desperation and you couldn’t look at him.

“I need to go.” You mumbled, flinching as he reached out for your face, stroking a thumb down the side of your cheek.

“Where? Can’t we talk first?”

“I need to go home. I have work tomorrow.” You insisted, a little firmer.

“So do I. Don’t do this, Y/N, don’t run from me. We were both there last night, I know that you felt it too. It wasn’t just sex; it was more than that and you know it. It was like being completed; two pieces of the puzzle finally being put back together.”

“I’m not a broken puzzle, Jungkook!” You shouted and he took a step back in surprise. “Why does everyone treat you like you’re broken if you’re not with your soul mate? I just broke up with the man I thought I was going to marry; I’m vulnerable. That’s the only reason last night even happened.”

Jungkook’s face shuddered, bleeding emotion as he looked down at the ground. You realized belatedly that he was only wearing a pair of baggy grey sweatpants, as though he’d dressed in a hurry. Your heart clenched at the thought.

The grass poked out from between his toes and he sighed, a deep, mournful sound. “Are you ever going to forgive me?” He whispered.

You were trying to protect your heart, but at this point it seemed so futile. Just walking away from him was breaking it more than you’d expected. “I need to go home.” You said. “I’ll see you at work.”

Your apartment felt so empty when you returned. No Jimin to help you fill the darkened corners. You’d packed in a hurry, throwing whatever you’d brought with you back into your bag, doing your best to avoid your parents’ questions about where you’d been all night.

They’d find out at some point, anyway. You knew Mrs. Jeon wouldn’t keep this to herself for long. For years Jungkook had been “the bad guy” and now it was you and you couldn’t face it.

Guilt clawed at your insides the entire trip back and now, standing in your doorway, you decided that instead of facing any of your responsibilities, you would hide from them. Burrowing under the covers of your bed, reaching out for Jimin’s old pillow and clutching it to your chest, you cried.

You hadn’t exactly been lying when you told Jungkook you were vulnerable, sleeping with him was a rebound in a way…but it was also so much more than that.

You hated to admit it, but he was wearing away at your steely exterior. Chipping at the ice that had covered your heart when he’d rejected you all those years ago.

There was a part of you that feared if you pushed him away too much, you’d miss out again. A man could only take so much rejection before he gave up entirely. Another part of you wondered why that was something you were afraid of.

You’d both grown up; changed, and now Jungkook seemed so ready to just dive head first into the deep end. You couldn’t forget, though. You couldn’t let go. It was foolish, but the snub still burned bright in your memory and him wanting you now didn’t change the fact that back when it really counted; he hadn’t.

The doorbell ringing made your muscles stiffen. Had Jungkook followed you to your apartment? Was it Jimin; had he left something behind?

You stood slowly, apprehension building in your chest, and made your way to peer through the peephole of the door.

Lizzy was stood there, grin wide and arms flailing in a wave. You opened the door, peering at her curiously. “What are you doing here?”

“Did you forget?” She asked, not even bothering to pause before walking straight into your apartment and removing her bag. “You told me to come over at this time before you left for the wedding. Said you’d be back by now. Guess you’re a pretty accurate measure of time but not so much in the memory department.”

“Oh.” You said softly, closing the door. Lizzy threw her bag over the back of one of your chairs and turned to look at you, eyebrows meeting in the center of her forehead.

“Something happened.” She stated matter of factly and you knew it was no longer a secret you could keep. To be honest, you really needed someone to confide in right now.

“Yeah.” You nodded, “Did you want anything to drink?” You motioned lamely at the kitchen. Lizzy only shook her head, grabbing your hand and pulling you to the couch.

“Spill the beans.” She said, folding her legs crisscross once she’d sat down.

You sighed, staring up at the ceiling. “I haven’t been honest with you the last few months. I hope when I tell you why you’ll be understanding.” Lizzy’s brows furrowed deeper together, but she said nothing, waiting for you to continue.

“I’m a pretty private person about my past; I don’t really like to talk about it because it hurts…but I can’t really hide it anymore, you’re bound to find out at some point and I’d rather it come from me.”

You slowly pulled up the sleeve of your sweater, displaying your wrist to your friend and watched as her lips parted in surprise.

“Jeon Jungkook? Dr. Jeon?”

You nodded and waited for the storm, but Lizzy only frowned. “Oh…wow. Ok, but I still don’t understand what the good doctor has to do with your past.”

Pulling your sleeve down, you linked your fingers together in your lap, pursing your lips in thought. “I’ve known Jungkook all my life. Our mothers have been best friends since elementary school and moved into the same neighborhood when they got married. We were practically raised together. For the first 18 years of my life I saw Jungkook nearly every day. We were friends as children but then drifted apart. He entered that mean little boy stage, you know what I mean.”

Lizzy nodded and you continued, “Anyway, we drifted apart for years but always acted like we were friends in front of our parents, didn’t want our moms to feel bad. He grew up to be really handsome and popular and all the girls wanted a piece, even my sister. They started getting really close and Jungkook had his birthday, got his tattoo but didn’t say anything. My birthday was 2 months later and when his name appeared on my wrist, I felt like I’d been punched.”

“He’d been pursuing my sister, acting like my name wasn’t there on his wrist. I confronted him and even after all of that I was still willing to make it work, he’s my soulmate after all. He didn’t want to, though. So, we cut ties, graduated high school, went to different colleges and didn’t see each other again until he started working at the hospital.”

“Wow.” Lizzy breathed and you nodded, frowning.

“It gets worse.”

“What happened?” She asked, eyes wide.

“We had sex last night.” You admitted; the words bitter on your tongue.

“Oh!” Lizzy gasped and you could already feel tears stinging at the corners of your eyes.

“We were both tipsy and I was still heartbroken over Jimin and he just kept talking about how he wanted another chance to prove himself; that he’s not 18 anymore and we just got carried away.”

“What was it like?” Lizzy asked carefully, “sex with your soulmate?”

“Fireworks.” You cried, “There are no words to describe it. It felt like going your whole life thinking you’re content only to find out you’ve been missing a giant hole in the center of your heart and now it’s been filled and you’re complete and in fact it’s spilling over the edges and there’s just so much love that you can’t possibly hold it all so it just goes to every corner or your body until you think you might burst.”

“So, what’s the problem?”

“I’m terrified!” You wailed. “He’s been my enemy for the better part of 20 years and now I feel like I can’t breathe without him and I’m afraid. Aside from the brief moment of the initial rejection, I’ve never felt like I was an incomplete person but now I know what it’s like to have him and without him I feel the broken pieces of my soul shattering again.”

“So, the solution seems fairly clear to me. You guys need to be together. I can’t deny that I’m insanely jealous. Honestly, really, really envious. Not only do you know who your soulmate is, but he’s criminally hot.”

“It’s not that easy.” You sniffled, wiping at your nose.

“Why not?”

“Because we have history, Lizzy, and not a very happy one. It’s a lot to try to work through.” You frowned, throwing your hands up in frustration.

“So then work through it.” Lizzy deadpanned.

“But then he gets what he wants. He always gets what he wants. He didn’t want a soulmate so I left him alone and now that he wants me, I’m supposed to just give in?” You soured.

“You sound really vindictive right now. You said your past was painful which means the rejection hurt. You were willing to try back then, what’s changed?”

“Why does he always get to win? He deserves to feel some pain too!” You complained.

“So, you’re holding a grudge?”

“No!” You insisted childishly.

“Really? Because it sounds like you are to me. He was a kid back then, probably scared out of his mind. He was staring his future right in the face and probably wasn’t ready for the responsibility. He’s a fully-grown man now, more established in the world and he’s realized what he threw away all those years ago. Don’t you think people can change?” She asked, frowning at you and you felt more ashamed than before.

“Of course.” You admitted softly.

“What you and Jimin had was beautiful and healthy and despite that, he was willing to push it all aside because his soulmate changed his world. He didn’t even believe in soulmates! Doesn’t that say something?”

“Please don’t talk about him.” You bit out and Lizzy sighed.

“I’m just saying. You have an opportunity at love again, and this time it’s the real thing, as real as it gets. Are you really willing to throw it all away because you can’t let go of something an 18-year-old boy did 12 years ago? Really?”

“He broke my heart, Lizzy.” You murmured, the tears starting all over again as you picked at the fraying edges of your second hand couch.

“And that sucks, it really does and I’m sorry about it…but tell me, how do you feel right now? Now that he’s changed his mind and you’re running away instead? Be honest with me.”

You paused, lip trembling before you choked out a soft cry, “Now I feel like I’ve broken my own heart.”

“Do yourself a favor, Y/N, let yourself fall in love with him. You deserve to be happy.”

“What if he breaks my heart again?” You whispered.

“He’s a man, he’s probably going to make you cry a few times over your life time; it’s just what men do. If a soulmate’s love is really all they say it is, though…it’s worth it.”

You huffed, rubbing at your face and Lizzy smiled, “Just think about it, hmm?” When you nodded, she stood, going back to her bag and reaching into the pocket, pulling out a DVD. “You up for a movie?”

“Sure, I could use the distraction.” Tomorrow was back to work and you assumed that you’d have to deal with Jungkook. You weren’t sure how, but somehow Lizzy had to be right, somehow, it had to be worth it. People wouldn’t keep seeking out their soulmates and living seemingly blissful lives if it weren’t worth it. Right?

I hope you enjoyed this long awaited chapter! Let me know what you think! <3

Chapter 15

Chapter 17 (Finale)

#btsbookclub #jungkook scenario #jungkook smut #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff

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trillian-anders · 4 years

Text

first blood

pairing: ransom drysdale x reader

warnings: angst, general asshole-ness.

word count: 4.6k

description: part 3 of 5. how did you become ransom’s glorified babysitter? and why the fuck are you keeping this job? who knows. you hate it, you hate him, but... the money.

note: tumblr is being super shitty rn so I can only post on mobile, but I really wanted to get this off my desk! will add a read more and properly link later 💕

prequel to the assistant && four christmases, spoiler free loves.

You have to do this.

You don’t think your eyes will ever feel normal again. They were dry and scratchy. There were no more tears to shed. You’d buried your Mom two months ago, but you didn’t know how it would ever feel okay. She did everything for you and Julia. Everything. She worked hard, made pretty good money, allowed you to have a part time job and just focus on school. Julia was in this really nice private school, she played the cello now for fucks sake. She had friends and was talking about maybe starting soccer soon, but after funeral costs and your sister’s tuition the life insurance money was running out.

You had to sell the house.

You’d moved the two of you into a small apartment right outside of Chinatown. Not the safest area, but not the most unsafe either. You’d be fine. You had each other, and she needed you to do this. You had to do this.

For her.

You sat uncomfortably in the cheap office chair, sitting across from a woman with too many papers on her desk, everything sloppily arranged around a couple of potted succulents and a framed picture of her and her three kids, no spouse.

“So your last job was in tutoring?” She asked you. You shifted nervously in your seat, nodding your head,

“Yeah, I tutored a high school student in English and Math.” You needed some water. The cheap pencil skirt and blouse you were wearing made your skin itch. She types into her computer some more.

“So why are you here?” She asked, “Why not continue tutoring?” A few more clicks and then more typing.

“The family I worked for paid me pretty well,” You admitted, “But she’s graduating this year and they didn’t need me anymore, I don’t really,” You cleared your throat, “I don’t really have much job experience outside of that and I need to start making money now… I’ve put out job applications but haven’t really gotten any luck.” Not with the income you needed anyway. The woman nodded. The plaque on her desk said her name is Stacy Chandler.

“Alright, here you are.” A printed page, address, date, and time. A job. Clerical work. Data entry. You have to do this...

“How was your last day of school?” Julia sat heavily at the kitchen table, backpack slumped on the floor next to her. She buried her face in her arms.

“I’m never going again.” Came muffled from her mouth. She lifted her head to look at you. The beginnings of puberty. You’d recently gone bra shopping for the first time. Real ones, no more training bras. You’d recently taken her to the dermatologist for her acne, but she’s not good at remembering to put on the expensive creams you bought. What a hard time. You don’t envy her.

“Luckily for you,” You smiled, placing a fudgy brownie in front of her, “You don’t have to go back for three whole months!” She rolled her eyes heavily, taking the brownie and disappearing into her room presumably to sit on her computer until dinner.

She was feeling the absence of your Mother just as you were. You weren’t sure what to do here. You loved your sister and you know she loves you too, but in the last few months it’s just been closed doors and a few parting sentences. Only because you had to work so much. Only because she spent a lot of time at friend’s houses where you’d think she would feel normal for a while. It would help ease the burden of being in your mid-twenties and suddenly feeling like a single mother. Of course you can sleep over at Mila’s house, her family is going to their cabin for the weekend of course you can go!

You didn’t know what to do other than keeping her in school and alive. You weren’t ready for this. But the only other option was your estranged aunt who reeked of mothballs and was constantly asking you if you were married, or dating, or ‘You’re Mother wouldn’t have wanted this’. No. It was very clear that your Mom wanted the two of you to stay together, and that’s how it’s going to be.

This summer she was going to spend with her friend Mila at their family’s lake house. Mila’s mother was a stay at home mom with six kids under the age of 12 and would be planning to spend the summer pintresting activities and projects with them while simultaneously getting out of her stuffy-old 10 bedroom, 8 bathroom mansion. Lucky her. Lucky Julia.

The apartment would be empty without the 12-year-old pre-teen for three months, but Julia has really been looking forward to it. Her bags were packed and ready by the door.

You hugged her tightly in front of Mila’s house, burying your face in her hair, partially not wanting her to go, but otherwise knowing that she’s going to have a better time than you could ever provide her. “Okay, you can let me go now.” She shifted in your arms, trying to pull away.

“Just another minute.” You mumbled, pulling her in tighter. “I’m gonna miss you.” She laughed,

“I’m gonna miss you too.” The two of you pulled apart and you tucked her hair behind her ears, cupping her sweet face.

“I love you,” You said very seriously, “If you ever want to come home just-”

“I’ll let you know.” She was getting impatient, the car Mila’s mom was taking to the lake house, a beautifully large black Range Rover sat packed next to you, they were waiting. “I love you too.” She slowly backed away towards the car.

“If she gets homesick, my husband still comes back every week for work so he can bring her home if need be,” Andrea was her name, Mila’s Mom. “She’ll be fine.” Andy was really nice. She made a lot of the food the two of you had eaten in the early days after your Mom’s death. Her gentle reassurance soothed you slightly. It made driving away a little easier, but it didn’t stop the tears that fell as you entered your apartment, alone. For the first time in a while. You didn’t have to hold it in anymore.

You sunk down against your front door, staring out into your living room, tears rolling down your cheeks in the silence of the home. Dirty shoes lined up against the wall, throw blanket hanging halfway off the couch, dirty dishes from breakfast still in the sink, and somewhere you’re sure under all of it was the will to pick yourself back up.

You just didn’t know if you were ready for that quite yet.

But you did it anyway.

More clerical work. More data entry. More bills going half paid and others being ignored all together. Student loans you didn’t even want to think about from a school where you hadn’t even graduated. Medical bills you didn’t even know where to begin paying back, itchy stockings, and uncomfortable shoes. With every day that passed you reexamined your life. How did you get here?

A new job, a new office. Temp assigned, but you knew who worked here. The building that housed it stood tall against the Boston skyline. Contemporary. You sat comfortably in a cushy office chair. The plaque on the desk read Linda Drysdale, CEO. And you waited.

You hadn’t seen the Thrombey’s, let alone the Drysdale branch of the family, for five months. Zero contact. Joni had talked to you last, thanking you for helping Meg, but also trying to sell you eye cream. “You really should invest in taking better care of yourself.” Which was her kind way of trying to tell you that you look old. Thanks.

You couldn’t imagine what Linda would want you for. You’d been doing some filing, they were transferring all of their documents to digital and hired extra help to do so, you were one of three hired from your particular temp agency, but yesterday she had called you personally and asked you to come in for an appointment today at 3 pm. And here you are.

Waiting.

There was a portrait of her family on the wall. Linda herself sitting in a high backed intricate chair, her husband Richard standing to her right, and to her left was her son, Hugh. He went by his middle name Ransom. They were stone faced, serious looking. This painting seemed ridiculous. If you didn’t know the Thrombey’s you’d think it was there to be ironic, as a joke, a play on what rich families were like.

But they were a rich family, and this is what they were like.

Linda was self-serving. She only ever talked to you when it suited her own interests and as soon as she was satisfied she would quickly direct her attention somewhere else, to someone more important. She used you to get what she wanted and when you served her purpose you were gone. She had no time for anyone, only her father. Anything for Harlan.

Richard was a predator. He was always making an uncomfortable comment about either your body or your face. He stood uncomfortably close at times and liked to settle a hand on the small of your back. He was a well kept man, throwing his wife’s money around like it was his own. He kept a money clip of hundreds in his pocket.

Ransom was a piece of shit. He was a self-centered egotistical asshole who was sure to make your life a living hell every time he saw you. There was always a comment, a jab at your clothes, your hair, the fact that you are poor. He once ‘accidentally’ threw your cardigan away because, “I thought it was one of those fucking rags you dust with, I didn’t want it touching my burberry.” He, like his father, felt predatory. Something about being a rich white man just really got them going, and the money clip with the hundreds… a learned habit.

“Alright,” Linda’s voice came from the doorway, you turned slightly in your seat. She was on the phone, “Well we will send Michael out to show them the properties instead, I’m sure we’ll find something they like.” She gave you a finger, hold on, even though you’d been sitting here patiently waiting for her for close to twenty minutes now. “Okay,” She continued, “Sounds good.” Sitting down in her chair, tapping a few keys to illuminate her computer screen. “Alright now, bye-bye.” She took her phone from her ear, looking down at the screen before placing it face down on the desk and smiling at you.

You knew that smile. She wanted something.

“So, Y/N right?” You nodded, “I see you’re looking for work.”

“Well, I’m with a temp agency right now but-”

“Would you like something a little more permanent?” A permanent job? The Thrombey’s had paid you very well to tutor Meg, better than you were making now. Granted you had only worked 15 hours a week when you were tutoring her, so $20 an hour didn’t seem like that big of a deal, but if they were looking for something, anything full time…

“Absolutely,” You smiled, shifting in your seat, “I’ve had trouble being hired because my-”

“Okay so you’re going to need Ransom’s number, and you’ll start tomorrow.” Your smile dropped.

“Ransom needs a tutor?” You asked skeptically. She laughed.

“No, he needs an assistant.” She gestured towards herself, “I can’t keep telling him when or where to be for family events and he has a fairly active social life so I’m gifting him an assistant for his birthday.” Oh.

“I uhm,” You really didn’t want to work for Ransom. You REALLY didn’t want to work for Ransom. “How much would it…?” You trailed off nervously.

“My father paid you $20 an hour to tutor Meg, yes?” She asked, typing something into her computer, no longer looking at you.

“Yes, he did.” You moved trying to see what she was typing without bringing too much attention to it. She was drafting an email.

“So I’ll pay you the same. Ransom will set hours for you and decide what days of the week he’ll need you and what else he wants you to do,” She waved her hand dismissively, “Cleaning, cooking, whatever.” She scribbled on a post-it before peeling and handing it to you. “Here’s his number and address, you can go over the particulars of your job tomorrow morning.” You opened your mouth to speak again, ask her the million and one questions you have but before you could say anything she dismissed you, “That is all.” She said. And she was done with you.

She got what she wanted. And now she wanted you to leave.

So you did.

“Well,” He grinned, “Linda really scooped you up from the bottom of the barrel, huh?” You stood on Ransom’s front porch. The only texts you sent and received last night were ‘What time do you need me to be there?’ and an hour later the reply of ‘11’. The scumbag was standing in the doorway, leant against the frame, looking down on you. In more than one way.

“Can I come in?” You asked. You really didn’t want to do this. But a $12 an hour temp job versus $20 hour stability… hard to beat. He smirked, pushing off the frame before looking you up and down, turning to disappear into the house.

“Take off your shoes.” What a fucking joke. His house was a mess. Clothes thrown haphazardly around, a pile of dishes not in the sink, but on the counter. Abandoned cups, tv was rolling on in the background, some political documentary. The house, while contemporary and clean, well kept on the outside. The inside looked like a frat house during rush week. You didn’t want to take off your shoes in fear that you’d step in vomit or something worse.

He grinned off to the side, “Had some people over last night.” He explained, drinking what looked like orange juice from a coffee mug. The vodka bottle that was capless on the counter led you to believe that orange juice wasn’t the only thing in the cup. “You can start by cleaning up.” He gestured around, sinking back down into the sofa. “I’m sure I’ll think of something else you can do when you’re done.” The fucking prick.

You shut the door a little heavier than intended, slipping your sneakers off and placing them by the door. “You’ve got a laundry room?” You asked, he didn’t look away from the television,

“Basement.” And he was done with you too. The tone was very, don’t talk to me. Which honestly you were grateful for.

You cleaned up his messes, the red solo cups that littered almost every surface in every room, laundry was running in the basement, dishwasher working hard to sanitize the first round of plates and cups that could fit, the others waiting patiently in the sink as you wipe counters and dusted picture frames, the thick film of unappreciation. He didn’t care about his house, his furniture, the art that cost more than your apartment that lined his walls. His clothes, while having an extensive closet, some were threadbare and with holes.

He didn’t care.

And it made you angry.

You thought of the furniture you were able to keep from your Mother’s house, well oiled and kept. No scratches. The fabrics of the couches and chairs carefully cleaned and maintained.

His sheets were stained and you were unsure when the last time he had washed them actually was. The dampness made you gag. It wasn’t long before you were cleaning under his feet. His ankles crossed and feet resting on the coffee table as you straightened the area around him. You felt his eyes on you, briefly, but ignored it.

“Do you have any real clothes?” He asked suddenly. He stood from the sofa, rounding it to pull the vodka bottle back out from the cabinet you’d placed it in, pouring heavily into the coffee mug before leaving the bottle and the orange juice carton he followed with next to it.

“These are real clothes.” You stated, coming behind him to put the items away. He scoffed,

“I’m important,” He claimed, “I go to parties, events.” He took a large mouthful of the screwdriver he’d just made, “You can’t wear clothes like that if you’re gonna be babysitting me the whole time.” You rolled your eyes,

“I don’t have to go. You set my hours, I don’t-”

“As much as I love the whole, ‘I’m poor and don’t care what I look like’, thing you have going on,” Ransom laughed, “You’re gonna be around me, and as a reflection of me, you need to look presentable.” He gestured to the demin shorts a t-shirt you were currently wearing, mismatched socks on your feet. You felt your face flush. “And slap a little makeup on.” You rolled your eyes at that. Fucking dick. He smirked when you didn’t reply, turning back around to leave you and disappeared upstairs.

He didn’t come down for a while. In that time you’d finished cleaning the living area, the house looking a complete 180 from where it had been when you’d originally entered, it was nearing dinner time. Your stomach was growling and you’d realized you had been cleaning for five hours without stopping.

You didn’t get to enjoy the sense of accomplishment because Ransom came down the stairs not a moment later, dressed for his evening. If you didn’t hate him so much you’d drool. He looked good. Patterned slacks, chelsea boots, a lightweight white button down, blazer over one arm. “Let’s go.” He said, not stopping on his way towards the front door.

“Where are we going?” You felt gross, covered in grime from cleaning, sweat dried on your skin you knew you probably didn’t smell amazing, hair frizzed up in a bun. He didn’t answer you, continuing outside. You sighed heavily, throwing the pair of socks you’d just matched back into the laundry basket before slipping your shoes on and following him outside.

“C’mon!” He yelled from the front seat of his beamer, sunglasses on his nose, he was annoyed with you. Whatever. You sat heavily in his passenger seat, the dickwad not even giving you time to close the door before he was speeding down the driveway.

“Where are we going?” You asked again. One hand on the wheel, the other’s fingertips brushing against his lower lip he looked at you from behind his sunglasses.

“To dinner.” He smirked, looking back towards the road as you merged onto the interstate.

He was a fucking asshole. If you hadn’t thought he was before you definitely knew now. You were surprised the hostess even let you into this place. It was expensive, and you were very, very underdressed. Point taken Ransom. Thank you. Fucking prick.

He took glances at you ever so often, seated a few feet away from him at the long banquet style table that housed all of his ‘friends.’ Gorgeous women and equally as gorgeous men who had money to burn. You weren’t sure any of these people have ever worked a day in their life, much like Ransom himself. You’d met a few of them before, briefly, when Ransom would show up and ask Harlan for money before disappearing for a week, one or two of them would be in tow bragging about going on some guy’s yacht or flying out to some private island.

Regardless, they weren’t talking to you. You were a strange interloper, easily ignored, but only after a few poked fun at the stray dog at Ransom’s heels. It only stung a little bit when he laughed with them. You were wildly uncomfortable. You poked at your deconstructed salad, the little bits lined neatly up on the plate, a smear of salad dressing beside it. This menu was ridiculous. Why were you here again? You were so hungry and this was not your speed at all. Ransom’s booming laugh met your ears and you could feel the anger rising in your chest.

Fucking asshole. You hoped he would choke on one of the olives in his martini. His eyes met yours momentarily and he smirked. He fucking smirked, cheersing you with his martini before it met his lips again. You could kill him right now.

The money.

Technically you were still working. As the sun set behind the horizon. You’d been at work, technically, for about 10 hours. That’s $200. Okay, you can do this. You can do this.

You know he did this to embarass you. He made it clear when you’d pull up to the restaurant to give you a taunting look. Whether the dinner was already planned or he had planned it after the conversation about clothes and makeup earlier was anyone’s guess. You had the feeling it was the latter.

He’d paid the bill after all.

The entirety of it.

You’d wished you’d ordered more.

Afterward a giggling girl took your place in the front seat, you glared at the back of her head from the back seat,

“Ransom.” She whined, leaning over in her seat to press her lips to his neck, “I want you to fuck me.” Lips around his ear, sucking the lobe into her mouth. You shifted your gaze to the window, the city landscape passing your eyes as you’d pulled into another valet parking, a bar this time. A nice one.

Ransom and the bubbly girl from the car ride over slipped hastily into the bathroom, he’d sent you a dark look before leaving you to your own devices. Looking over the cocktail list while sitting uncomfortably on a bar stool while your boss was fucking a girl who’d laughed at you for being a ‘dog’ earlier in the bathroom of a bar that had a $20 old fashioned and their most expensive wine came with a thousand dollar price tag.

“You lost?” Another smirking asshole, sidled up next to you at the bar as you took a sip from the beautifully balanced old fashioned you’d tacked onto Ransom’s tab. He was handsome, the guy bothering you, almost everyone in this room was handsome. The lights low and romantic, candles on every table and across the bar, soft music played from the piano across the room where a man sat gently stroking the melodies to create the ambiance of the room. Close, cozy, romantic, and dark enough to forget yourself in.

“Oh c’mon honey.” The man slipped onto the barstool, thighs spread wide around you as you face away from him, his hand meeting your back. “I can help you find what you’re looking for.” His breath reeked of alcohol. You glanced over at him,

“I’m fine thank you.” Another sip, damn this drink was good. He chuckled, moving in closer, drifting a hand down to your thigh.

“Don’t be like that.” He laughed, “You obviously don’t belong here honey.” His hand traced your bare thigh, “You’ve gotta be wanting some company.”

Ransom had returned face flushed and you could almost see a tiny bit of white on his nose, but it was quickly rubbed away. He sat on the opposite end of the bar, the girl from earlier taking his lap. He looked down at you briefly, he had to have seen how uncomfortable you were, how this guy was breathing down your neck. He ignored it, ordering a drink from the bartender.

“I don’t want any company,” You shoved the man’s hand away, “Have a great night.” He leaned back in his seat, downing his drink before leaning back over to put his face in yours.

“Fucking ugly bitch.” He spat, standing from the stool, “Tryna give you a little charity here, you could've at least been grateful.” You wanted to leave. He shoved your shoulder slightly as he walked away from you, no doubt going to bother some other unsuspecting woman in his radius.

You needed some air, taking the last sip of your drink you’d scooted back from the bar, walking by Ransom to take your exit, walking out into the summer night. It was early summer. It was still only 60 at night. A chill went through you. You hadn’t expected to be out so late, the comfortable denim shorts and old ratty t shirt you’d chosen to wear had obviously been a mistake for this day. Ransom made sure to make you see that.

The bar was on the harbor, and it brought in a breeze that caused goosebumps to rise on your skin. You checked your phone, the battery almost dead. Julia had been texting you periodically, but not as much as you would have liked. You scrolled through the most recent messages, you asking how her trip was going and what she was up to and her stilted replies. She was busy you supposed. She didn’t need you, but right now you really needed her.

This night has been a massive blow to your self-esteem. You’d never felt more ugly and unwanted in your life. You just wanted to go home, but Ransom wasn’t done yet. You looked at him from the window, his fingers were gone between that girl’s thighs, they were both drinking expensive cocktails, completely oblivious to you.

He’d watched you exit, not giving it much thought it seemed, because he hadn’t made any motion to bring the night to a close, but you weren’t really expecting him to. It was Ransom’s world and you were just living in it. You worked for him. And you wondered if this is how every day is going to be from here on out. You really don’t know if you could do this forever, but you knew you didn’t want to go back inside.

So you didn’t.

Thankfully Ransom stumbled out about thirty minutes later, girl from earlier on his arm. “Let’s go.” He said. Valet pulling the beamer around he threw you the keys, “Take me home.”

He sunk down in the back seat, high and drunk. His words almost incoherent. Her’s were no better. They sloppily attacked each other in the back seat, indecently. And you were pointedly looking anywhere but in the rearview. Soft grunts and moans made you uncomfortable for the fourth time that night. Your skin crawling in unease as the girl’s giggles turned into breathy moans. Your foot sunk against the gas pedal in hopes you’d get back to his home faster, tears welling up in your eyes. The cry on the way home was going to be so good. So cathartic.

The gravel crunching against the wheels of the car was a sweet relief, so was the haste in which you left the keys in the car, running and skipped to your own car. His eyes met yours through the darkness as he was leant up against his car door, slacks loose around his hips, the girl’s lips attached to his neck as her hand worked quickly between his thighs. He smirked, waving a sarcastic ‘good-bye’. You turned your eyes to the road, cranking up the radio as you began to cry.

You didn’t want to do this anymore.

A text came through right as you finally laid down in your own bed, snuggling into the covers, ready to forget the night.

See you at 9.

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#ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale x reader #knives out #chris evans

967 notes · View notes

clumsyclifford · 3 years

Text

every weekend in the winter you’d be wearing my hoodie

hello i am back with more t-shirt ‘verse jalex because i cannot seem to write anything else and also they bring me just IMMENSE joy. so much happiness

this is straight fluff it’s just a shot of fluff direct to the veins it does not pass go or collect two hundred dollars. it’s fluff. also, it was written for the prompt “it’s hand-holding season” but i cannot figure out if (a) i lost the original person who sent the prompt or (b) i just saved the prompt because i liked it and ended up unintentionally prompting myself ???? but either way here it is

title is from nina by ed sheeran great song :)))

(part 1) (part 2)

read it here on ao3

It’s cold outside as the clock flips from 11:59 on November 30th to 12:00 on December 1st, but not cold enough to stop Jack from saying, “Let’s go for a walk.”

Alex looks away from the commercial currently muted on the TV, giving Jack a patented are-you-serious look. “Right now?”

“Yes, right now. It’s December! Happy December! Let’s go for a walk.” Jack gives him a cheesy smile. Alex is not yet immune to Jack’s cheesy smiles and they both know it.

Not for lack of trying, though. “Jack, it’s cold out.”

“It’s only, like…” Jack clicks his phone screen on. “Forty-five degrees. That’s nothing.”

“It’s not nothing, it’s thirteen degrees above freezing.”

Jack rolls his eyes. “Don’t be boring. Be interesting. Be an interesting boy. Come take a walk with me. I’m going with or without you.” He holds a fist up to his mouth as if carrying an imaginary microphone and croons, “With or without youuuuu…”

Alex huffs. “Fine,” he says, smiling and shaking his head. “You’re lucky I love you or I wouldn’t do this shit for you, you know.”

“Oh, I know,” Jack says, and he does know. He knows he’s lucky Alex loves him. Anyone would be. Jack has never been the type to count his blessings, but he thinks having Alex in his life means he just might start. There must be someone he can thank. Alex is too perfect to just have swept into his life on good fortune.

They grab sweatshirts — Alex takes one of Jack’s and Jack takes Alex’s — and head out the door, down the stairwell, and outside. Jack braces himself for a chilly breeze, but there isn’t one. In fact, it’s kind of nice, actually.

Apart from the way it’s forty-five degrees out. Other than that, it’s nice.

The air is cold on Jack’s face and his hands. He pulls the sleeves of Alex’s hoodie over his fingers, but he can still feel an icy chill settling itself into his bones. Well. Whatever. Sometimes sacrifices have to be made.

Jack looks over at Alex and smiles, almost without meaning to. “Smells like December,” Alex says, before Jack can open his mouth. “Don’t you think?”

Jack sniffs the air, but it just smells cold. That’s probably what December smells like, he supposes. “Yeah.”

“I bet it’ll snow soon,” Alex muses, arms crossed over his chest. “It smells like it’s gonna snow.”

“What does that even mean? You can’t smell that kind of thing.”

“Yeah, it’s like metallic, kind of?”

“Snow smells like metal?” Jack raises an unimpressed eyebrow. “I thought you were supposed to a be a teacher.”

Alex smacks Jack’s shoulder. “I am a teacher, you moron. Show me some respect.”

“No way. I’ve never had a single teacher worthy of respect.”

“What? Not one? Come on.”

Alex sounds genuinely distressed by the prospect of Jack’s academic experience being one terrible educator after another, and Jack caves. “Fine. I’ve had a few.” He steals a glance at Alex. “All my music teachers have been good.”

Alex smiles widely. “You’re just saying that.”

“Please, am I the kind of person who would ‘just say that’?”

“No,” Alex admits, shifting closer to Jack with his next step. “I’m happy to hear that. Everyone should have a few good teachers.”

“You’re changing lives, Alex Gaskarth,” Jack says airily, reaching with one hand to pat Alex’s cheek, which is partially obscured by the hood of the stolen sweater. “All your students are going to grow up to be washed-up pencil pushers with hot boyfriends.” Alex laughs. “Does it feel good?”

“Feels great,” Alex says. His shoulder brushes Jack’s as he swings his arm by his side. “Why the fuck aren’t we holding hands?”

“It’s cold.”

Alex snorts, which sounds suspiciously like I told you so, but instead he says, “Nuh-uh. It’s December. It’s hand-holding season. If we’re ever going to hold hands, it’s gotta be now.”

Jack huffs, like it’s some huge chore to hold hands with Alex, and pulls the sleeve on his right arm up enough to link his fingers with Alex’s. “No wonder you became a teacher. You’re the bossiest person I’ve ever met.”

Alex laughs. His laugh fills so much space. Jack would love to record it and make it his alarm sound, would love to wake up to Alex’s laugh every morning. “If you didn’t want to be cold, you shouldn’t have gone on a walk. In forty-five degree weather.” Aaaand there it is.

“It’s nice,” Jack insists. It is nice. Even with the chill, and even though their surroundings are mostly just more apartment buildings, and even though the artificial light from the street lamps is washing the world in a hideous shade of yellow, and even though every step they take away from Jack’s place means another step they’ll have to take back towards it when they finally turn around, and even though it’s forty-five degrees out…

To hold hands and walk with Alex, anything would be nice.

“Yeah,” Alex sighs, and he doesn’t even sound disappointed about it.

They’re walking to the school, Jack realizes a few minutes later, and sure enough a couple minutes after that the familiar building comes into view. Jack squeezes Alex’s hand. “Are you allowed to be here on weekends? Like, does that break some kind of teacher code?”

“Yes,” Alex says seriously. “We take the teacher code very seriously. If you’re caught at school during non-school hours you get taken to teacher prison.”

“Ooh, a rule-breaker,” Jack says, grinning. “Very exciting. Lucky for you, I’m amazing at sneaking around school buildings, since it is about ninety percent of what I did in high school.”

“Shocker.” There’s a smile in Alex’s voice. He lifts their conjoined hands to point at the main double doors. “Should we try them? Just in case?”

“You are such a bad influence,” Jack admonishes as they make for the entrance. “What if an alarm goes off?”

“Then we’ll have a story to tell.” And with that Alex marches them up the stairs to the doors and pulls on the handle with his free one.

It’s locked. Obviously.

Nothing happens, so they try the other door, and nothing happens with that one either. Defeated, they both step back. Jack studies the door, trying to see past it, but the halls inside are darkened and the light from the lamps outside reflect too much off the glass to see anything beyond. “I can’t believe I’ve still never been inside.”

“Someday,” Alex says. It holds a lot of promise, that someday. Jack is in love with the idea of a someday, a million somedays with Alex. Of not knowing when someday will be, but knowing that they’ll be together long enough to eventually reach it.

“Someday,” he agrees, looking over at Alex just as Alex looks at him. At this angle, his face is hidden in shadows, so Jack leans closer, smiling like he’s never learned to do anything else. Alex obligingly meets him halfway for a kiss, sending warmth all the way through Jack’s body and momentarily lifting the chill from under his skin.

“We can make out in the music room, it’ll be just like tenth grade,” Jack says, smirking. Alex chuckles, shaking his head.

“I hope it’ll be a little bit better than tenth grade.”

“A little bit.” A lot. A fucking lot. Tenth-grade Jack could never in a million years have dreamt of being so happy right now, with a boyfriend this perfect and amazing. Jack from sophomore year wouldn’t fathom being this in love, enough to be self-sacrificial.

Tenth-grade Jack was a selfish asshole, though, so he wouldn’t have deserved it.

“Seriously,” Alex says quietly, looking not at Jack but through the double doors. “Someday soon. You should meet the other people I work with, the people in my department and everything. It’s a big part of my life, and I — I want you in it.”

Jack’s heart beats extra hard, although by now he’s used to that as a natural byproduct of being in a relationship with Alex. “I want to meet your co-workers,” he says. “Michael and Calum sucked when I met them, though, so if the rest of them are that bad —”

“Shut up,” Alex says, but he’s laughing, echoey in the small space between them, the doors, and the brick of the building. “You loved Michael and Calum. Anyway, my coworkers are great. You guys will get along.”

“Good.”

“I want to meet your coworkers too.”

“You really don’t.”

“I do!”

“You met Zack already.”

“I haven’t met Luke and Ashton even though you’ve repeatedly told me we’d get along great.”

“I was lying.” Alex makes a disbelieving nose, and Jack smiles despite himself. “Okay, fine. We should figure that out, then.”

Alex hums. “Mm, another time.” He lifts their intertwined hands and loops his arm around Jack, then rests his head against Jack’s shoulder. “You were right. This is nice.”

It’s always nice with you, Jack thinks. He kisses whatever part of Alex’s face he can reach and bites down on a silly smile. “Love you.”

Alex sighs contentedly. They’ll head back in a moment, but Jack is more than happy to stand here and soak up the obvious joy that Alex emanates being somewhere he treasures so much. Even in forty-five degrees, Jack feels warm around Alex, and he suspects that will never change.

#alex gaskarth #jack barakat #jalex #jalex fic #all time low #atl fic #fic #my fic #tshirt verse #i love them so much #i specifically love this jalex so fucking much #i wrote it on december 1st which is why it takes place on december 1st #and with that said happy december everyone!#i should go to bed. i am going to go to bed after i post this

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zippiestdraws · 4 years

Text

Choking Curiosity Ch 12

ftm reader x michael myers

read on ao3

see the art that inspired me to write by @stabbyhandsmcmike

Light brown hair bounced back into small curls when the mask pulls off of them, just long enough to hang over his forehead.

You feel like you’re seeing too much all at once, yet not enough, unable to process what’s in front of you.

The pink of his lips, slightly chapped, is set in an unreadable line. Your eyes slowly trace the curves and along the straightness of his nose. You can feel the sadness change your face, seeing the long gouging scar through his eyebrow down to the cheekbone. Redness tints the flesh underneath as you pick apart his appearance, staring into the pale blue eye that can’t see you.

Finally, you meet his gaze, peering into you intensely from behind a stormy blue.

He’s beautiful.

Enraptured, you reach out to him still sitting before you. He spooks like a wild animal, standing and shouldering past you, filling you with regret.

“Wait, Michael-”

You try to follow, but you hear his door lock and stop, before sadly returning to your own room.

Closing your eyes on your bed, you try to remember his visage in detail, a warm feeling blooming in your chest.

*** It surprised you to hear his feet on the stairs in the morning as you sat at the table with your breakfast. You assume he’s usually gone by the time you wake up or, at the very least, not interested in leaving his room.

You sign good morning to him with your mouth full and you think you catch a small nod in response. Trying to go back to your food, you see him in your peripheral and hear the fridge open.

The egg carton hits the counter with too much force and you cringe.

“Dude? Are you trying to break them?” You put your spoon down and look up at him.

He points at the carton.

“You want eggs?” you sigh. You guess it’s better to make them yourself than to let him loose in the kitchen and have what happened last time.

He follows close behind as you scrub the char off the pan from yesterday, you can feel his body heat and try not to lean back too much.

When you dry the pan he turns to let you move to the stove.

“What do you want in it?” you don’t have many spices, but it’s better than just plain eggs.

He doesn’t move and you question how many signs about food the two of you know.

“Cheese it is then.”

The gas stove clicks for a couple of seconds before catching and a loaf of bread lands near you in a similar fashion to the eggs. You recall Michael’s attempt on toast and silently untwist the bag and press the slices into the hot pan.

You know he’s watching over your shoulder very closely, but his presence feels calming almost, like the slow morning and sleep still hangs over you both.

You toss everything onto a plate and it’s nearly snatched from you as you attempt to set it on the table, breaking the stupor.

‘guess he’s hungry.

You grab him a glass of water with a small smile when you see him roll his mask up to eat.

Sitting back down and pouring some more cereal in with the portion, you notice more now that he tucked into the chair next to yours.

You're close enough to brush elbows.

He finishes the food very fast, almost inhaling it, before grabbing the water.

“Hey, slow down! You’ll choke-” you doubt he even tasted it fully.

He doesn’t listen, but doesn’t rise immediately when he’s done, instead, wiping his mouth on his sleeve and pulling the mask back down.

You’re going to have to work on better manners with him. Frowning, you feel kind of like you may have signed up to be a babysitter.

“I have work today, but I get off early, do you want anything from the store?”

You can almost hear the cogs turning in his head and immediately almost regret using the word ‘anything’.

Michael signs over the mask's mouth in a way that almost makes you short circuit.

“Ice Cream?” he nods. “Okay, what flavor?” You pick up your plates to put them in the sink.

“Oh wait, we don’t know signs for those. Um…” you wrack your brain for options and turn back to him. “Chocolate? Vanilla? Cookies and cream?”

No answer.

“Butter pecan...cookie dough…strawberry...”

His hand moves to sign yes and you sigh in relief.

“Okay, I’ll write that down. Just don’t do anything-” you were going to say ‘bad’, but you doubt he’ll listen. “Just don’t hurt anyone tonight, please?”

You hope that ice cream is enough of a bargaining chip for someone’s life.

*** The day went well enough, Dwight came back from his vacation and the two of you got to talk about his wedding plans for a nice change of pace.

He asks if you’ve seen Laurie recently, and now that you think about it, you haven’t. You didn’t want to presume, but you did find it odd that she hasn’t called recently, since she’s been checking up on you since the night you told her about Michael.

“Yeah, I was hoping she wouldn’t do it this year, but every October she holes herself up in her house and tries to figure out ‘where the shape will strike this year’.” Dwight grimaces in disappointment. “I tried to talk to her about it, but her room looks like a conspiracy theory detective’s office.”

“The shape?” You already know what he’s talking about, but you try your best to sound inquisitive.

“Michael Myers. Don’t worry, she’ll be alright, she usually calls after halloween.”

You know he must have heard the concern you tried to hide in your voice, but you didn’t even want to admit to yourself that it wasn’t for Laurie. Now that she knows he’s alive, and even more, around your house, she could be dangerous.

The conflicting ideals you’ve been suppressing bubble to the surface. You don’t want either of them to be hurt, but it fully realizes within you now that you’ve been housing your friend’s tormentor.

You check out and excuse yourself from Dwight, blaming a headache.

The sliding doors part and you step out under a dark sky and to get pelted by freezing autumn rain. Hunkering in on yourself, you walk for a few feet before skipping into a quick jog.

It takes you at least 10 minutes to reach home, soaked and shivering around a tub of ice cream.

Moving to unlock the door, you find it open already. Sulking in and dropping your shopping bag on the floor, you begin to shuck off your dripping outer layer. When you jump and nearly fall over while peeling your pants off your legs, you notice a towel hanging from the end of the railing of the stairs.

A bit shocked, but still grateful, you wrap it around your shoulders and try to rub yourself warm. Looking around, you don’t see Michael, so you leave your clothes by the door and shuffle to put the ice cream in the freezer before it melts.

You hurry to put on your most plush pajamas, wrapping a blanket around you like a cape, before searching the house for Michael. You find him downstairs, reclined on the couch in the living room. Standing in the doorway, you wait for a response, but you get none.

Moving closer in the dark, you can hear his soft rhythmic breathing.

This is the first time you’ve ever seen him asleep.

Unsure if you actually want to wake him or not, you try to slide onto the unoccupied portion of the couch.

It dips underneath you, in an instant Michael starts forward with his knife stopping centimeters from your chest, a sharp gasp stinging your throat and staying there.

The willpower it takes to lift your eyes from the knife to his face feels is straining, blood pumping in your ears as he stares you down. It slowly lowers, his breathing betraying his adrenaline.

“..sorry..” you breathe out, not moving from your spot yet.

His form corners you for a little while longer until you hear a small huff behind the mask and he relaxes back to his side.

You allow it to be quiet until your heart rate lowers.

“I brought you your ice cream...”

He looks almost sheepish and doesn’t meet your eyes. His hand signs a small thank you from his chin.

“Thank you for the towel.”

This silence you can feel thickly, but this time Michael is clearly uncomfortable in it.

“Hey...you know you’re my friend, right?”

He startles, startling you, never having seen a reaction like that from him.

The way he looks you in the eyes is almost vulnerable and it makes your heart ache.

“I’m glad you live here with me. I would be really lonely without you.”

You feel the blanket shift and his large hand touches yours, making your world feel like pop rocks for a brief moment.

#michael myers x reader #slasher x reader #trans writers #male reader #michael myers #slashers #choking curiosity #dead by daylight #dbd

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percywinchester27 · 4 years

Text

About a boy (Part-6)

Word count: 3K

Warning: Suspense, feels, physical abuse, child-trafficking and bullying

Characters: Dean, Cas, Gabriel, Benny, Michael, OCs and… Sam?

Summary: Dean Winchester has a secret. A secret that could really land him in trouble. He never expected to connect with anyone when he walked into the ‘Blue Stone Orphanage for Boys,’ but even then, the walls he has put up are slowly coming down. Now, a series of strange events are threatening to expose him. When everything starts falling apart around him, will he still be able to save the one person that matters the most?

A/N: My insecure self truly appreciates all the validation y’all provide with comments and reblogs. I am beyond grateful <3

All my love to @thing-you-do-with-that-thing and @deanssweetheart23 for beta reading this story. You guys are the best!

About a boy masterlist

The cold soapy water made the knife slip from his hand, and the tip somehow managed to tilt just the right way to slice the edge of Dean’s palm.

“Fuck!” He cursed, quickly withdrawing his hand. It came back scarlet.

The water was still running from the tap, harder than he’d have normally wanted it. Dean held his hand underneath it, letting the stream run red. When he looked back at his palm, there was a long gash there and it hurt like hell.

Dean was sitting in the small room next to the kitchen, on the floor. There was an enormous pile of utensils next to him. Utensils that fed hundreds and hundreds of kids. He could be buried all of four times in that pile, he thought dejectedly.

At the rate he was going, Dean would probably be here all night long and the whole day tomorrow. Usually the dishes were done by 7 or 8 kids, in rotation. Having to do it all by himself was crazy. He’d already been at it for hours now and was weary, tired and sleepy.

He sighed, picking up the offending knife and staring at it intently. “Do your worst,” he mumbled.

“Don’t you worry about that!”

Dean turned to see Gary, Zachariah and Raphael standing at the corner, all leering down at him. Two more boys followed from behind.

Dean stood up unsteadily, not because he was scared, but because the slippery water that flowed at his feet had soaked through the four layers covering him. His clothes, heavy with the weight of water, made it hard to move, but he’d be damned if he gave in without a fight.

He had suspected it all along, had waited for these thugs to inevitably come to him. As it was, they had been waiting for an opportunity to get back to him after that first night. He could see them eyeing him when he passed by them in the corridor at school, their expressions malicious and evil.

One last guy came in and shut the door behind him. At least, this time Dean could see their faces.

The old grandfather clock by Andy’s office chimed in the distance. It was 12. Dean rolled up the sleeves of his drenched jacket, bracing his legs just the right way. He wasn’t going down alone.

***********************************

Cas was frantic, pacing up and down in the tiny space between the two sets of bunk beds. Gabriel was still up, lazily going through the pages of a skin magazine- which was of course barred in the campus. Occasionally he would look up from the magazine, follow Cas’ trajectory and then go back to the pictures, both amused and unconcerned at the same time. Benny was quiet, as usual, but Cas could feel his eyes following him.

“Sit down, will you?” Gabe said finally. “You’re giving me second hand anxiety here.” His drowsy voice was in direct contrast to the actual awful anxiety building up within Cas.

“I can’t! Dean’s in trouble. I know it. Those idiots won’t let him be. They’ll beat the crap out of him. Jesus!” His voice rose up an octave with each word. He knew it in his heart that Dean having to stay back so late and everyone else being put off the washing duty couldn’t have been a mere coincidence.

He had to do something!

Desperately, he turned to his roommate. “Gabe! Help me! You have something on each of them, you could get Dean out of trouble.”

Gabe flicked through another page of the magazine. “Now why would I ever wanna do that?”

“Because of the goodness of your heart?” Cas tried, pointlessly.

Gabriel tossed the magazine aside, then looked Cas straight in the eye. “I’m doing no such thing.”

“You did it last time,” Cas argued, inches away from Gabe, now. “You got him out of the mess that first day.”

“I didn't get him out,” Gabe leaned in, all mirth gone from his expression and Cas was reminded that if Gabriel wanted to be the bad guy, he could really be the bad guy. “I got you out, Castiel. That kid is nothing to me.”

With that he flicked off the light of his lamp, and slid down on his bed.

“At least tell me how you got out of the locked corridor?” Cas asked through gritted teeth.

Gabriel made an elaborate snoring noise. His way of saying ‘get lost.’

Cas let out a frustrated cry and sank onto his bed, his pulse out of rhythm.

“There’s a door at the end of the fourth floor that leads to the left wing. It’s the only one that’s not boarded up.” The gravelly voice came from the bunk above Gabe’s, and if it hadn’t been for the distinct confidence, Cas might have assumed that his mind had made it up.

Gabe gave up his snoring pretense, too, surprised by what he had just heard.

The gratitude was overwhelming, but Cas managed a strangled thank you and rushed out of the room.

His footsteps echoed through the dusty, dark corridor till he reached the very end. Then came to a dead-end. The grill. How was he going to get across the grill of the fourth floor?

“Dean? Dean, is that you?” A soft voice called, startling Cas. The voice sounded unsure, as if he even recognised Dean’s footsteps and knew that this wasn’t him.

“No,” he said. “I’m Cas. It’s Will, isn’t it?

There was a sudden movement. “How do you know? Did… did Dean tell you?” There was a note of betrayal in his voice, a hint of accusation, even though Cas wasn’t sure at whom it was aimed.

"No... no," he said urgently, not wanting to mess this up for Dean. "That's not it. I mean Dean did tell me, but that's only because I caught him sneaking out every night."

"So let me get this straight. You're spying on Dean?"

Cas's impatience and worry was making everything he said come out wrong.

"Look, I don't know how much Dean's told you, but I'm his friend. My name's Cas- Castiel."

There was a pause. "I've heard of you."

Cas huffed out a breath.

"So I'm not in trouble, right?" Will asked, still unsure.

"You're not. But Dean is."

The dark figure one the other side jerked up, jumping into sudden action. “What’s wrong with Dean?”

Cas quickly explained as much as he could, and while he was talking, it became abundantly clear that Will knew quite a lot about Dean’s life. He didn’t question why those idiots would try to specifically go out of their way to target Dean like that. He just seemed to understand.

“I have to somehow get there,” Cas said. He knew that he appeared to be dancing on the spot from all the nervous energy, but Will had already stooped down and was fiddling with the lock of the shutter.

“What are you doing?” Cas asked, widening his eyes to get a better look.

Will didn’t answer, but he didn’t have to. For, a minute later, the quiet click of the lock popping open was enough of an answer.

“Quick, I think they might have left the door to the left wing open after all,” Will whispered.

“You could crack the lock all this time and you never did it?” Cas asked, appalled.

“Where was I gonna get to?” Will shot back. “There’s kids downstairs and you sadists up here.”

Fair point.

Cas bent down and yanked the grill. Thankfully, it rolled up smoothly without making too much noise. When he straightened up on the other side, Will was standing much, much closer to him. In the pale light filtering from the window overhead, Cas could make out the straight, long hair that almost fell to his chin, framing his face. The edges of his hair seemed silver in the moonlight.

Will was lanky. Thin but oddly athletic from the way he was holding himself, despite the loose shirt hanging from his shoulders. In fact, all his clothes seemed two sizes too large for him. It was still too dark to make out his face, but he seemed pale.

“What are you waiting for?” Will urged. “We gotta go.”

Cas jerked. “We’ aren’t doing anything, together. I’m going and you’re staying here.”

Will’s entire posture changed. All the wariness from the set of his shoulders vanished and his spine straightened up, chin set. “I’m coming with,” he said, and Cas noticed the odd sharpness to his otherwise soft voice. “I have to help Dean.”

There was an odd desperation in his voice, and strength that made it abundantly clear that he was going to follow Cas, whether or not Cas wanted it. That there wasn’t even a question about helping Dean. It was a given.

Cas suddenly felt a rush of warmth for this strange kid. He really did care for Dean. All his inhibitions about Dean trusting Will vanished.

“Who says you won’t be helping Dean by staying up here?”

Will cocked his head. “What?”

Cas smirked. “I have a plan.”

**************************************

Dean huffed, face against the floor, tasting blood in his mouth. He grinned.

Even though he was sprawled on the wet ground, water all around him with a foot firmly planted against his back, Gary was lying a few feet away, too, groaning.

And Dean was sure he’d at least managed to get Zachariah in the gut, shin and face. The crack that his nose had made was satisfying. It had probably added years to Dean’s life. Angered like the great bull, Zachariah had finally managed to aim a good swipe and then Raphael and the fourth boy had crowded on Dean. Even then, he hadn’t gone down easily. He was sure that both of those were going to be nursing bruises tomorrow.

A swift kick landed at his side, getting him in the side of his stomach.

“That should teach you better than to mess with us,” Raphael said. He was Michael’s mouthpiece, Dean realised. The one who did all the dirty work.

“The only thing I’ve learnt is that it must be a sweet little thing… you know… being Michael’s pitbull.”

Raphael snarled and the kicked harder in Dean’s back and he had to bite back a scream.

“Bastard!” Raphael spat.

“You see, at least, I know for sure that I’m not one… you on the other hand…”

There was a threatening growl from over his head and Dean braced himself for one more hit, but it never came, instead there was a hurried scuffling and Dean felt rather than saw Raphael move back.

“Castiel?” Gary exclaimed, surprised.

“Let Dean go!” Cas said, not loudly, but firmly.

This was starting to be a theme, Dean thought. Each time he was being thrashed by Michael’s goons, Cas turned up. But this time, Michael wasn’t around to save Cas. That became evident the moment Gary’s swung his fist and it made perfect contact with Cas’s jaw. Cas hurtled past Raphael and hit his head against the wall, slumping down.

“No!” Dean yelled. He braced himself in a sitting position, and glared at the standing figures with bleary eyes. “Come at me, assholes, leave him out of it.”

“He asked for it,” Gary smirked.

“Michael won’t be pleased,” Dean added. His ribs were hurting and his back felt like someone had rammed an iron block into it. He couldn’t stand up yet to fight for Cas, so he had to make the best of what he had. If using Michael’s name was it then that had to do.

Raphael grinned. “Michael isn’t here, and what he won’t know, won’t make him mad.” He turned to look at Cas. “You won’t be a little snitch and tell him, now, will you, Cassie?”

To Dean’s relief, Cas groaned and opened his eyes. Despite the hurt being evident in his features, he looked coldly at Raphael. “Maybe I won’t have to tell Michael.”

The smirk slid from Raphael’s face, “What do you mean?”

Unexpectedly, in a move that was beyond reckless, with three huge boys staring down at him, Cas grinned. “Wait for it,” he said, then looked straight at Dean and winked.

For a minute nothing happened, as all the boys waited with bated breath.

Zachariah, who had been standing in the corner all this while, growled impatiently. He advanced towards Dean with a hand outstretched, “All right you little pieces of shi-”

Loud, shrill alarms suddenly pierced through the quiet of the night, and Zachariah jerked back. Red light flooded through the room, the entrances vibrating with the sound. Both Gary and Raphael fumbled backwards as few screams and then more sounded along with the continuously blaring alarm.

“Fire…” Raphael breathed, then turned one venomous glare at Cas and hissed, “Castiel… What did you do?”

Cas shrugged, still ginning, “You have about five minutes before all the locks are opened, and the kids come barreling down into the grounds. And everyone finds out what you’ve been up to… Andy finds out what you’re doing.”

Fear, true fear flashed across Raphael’s eyes. “This isn’t the end of it, you son of a bitch,” he spat at Dean, then started towards the door.

On his way out he glared down at Cas. “You picked your side, Castiel, now be ready to face what’s coming.” With that he disappeared, the parade of goons following.

Dean was still sitting on the wet floor, shocked. What had just happened? Was there really a fire?

“Dean!” He felt a tugging at the side of his drenched jacket. It was Cas, looking down at him in urgency and an odd triumph. “We gotta get out of here.”

“Is there… fire?” Dean could feel his voice shaking. All life seemed to go out of his legs.

Cas’ blue eyes twinkled in the odd light. “Yes, there’s fire, but it’s nothing to worry about. C’mon!”

Cas helped Dean to his feet, and unsteadily dragged him out of the room into the corridor. Dean’s legs ached from the thrashing and his body felt like it had been worked upon by a sledgehammer.

There were noises everywhere, hundreds of feet rushing in one direction.

“This way,” Cas lead, coaxing Dean into the direction of the voice and holding him by the shoulders. Belatedly, Dean realised that was blood on Cas’s jaw, and the corner of his mouth. He wanted to ask if Cas was okay, but strangely, his voice had left him.

Somehow they made it into the front yard which was already full of kids in pyjamas, panicked. There was chaos everywhere. The smaller kids from the lower floors had come down quickly, and were crying, screaming from fear. But there still weren’t nearly enough of them. The upper levels were locked, someone had to get there to release the kids.

There were still kids up there!

"Take your brother outside as fast as you can and don't look back! Now, Dean, go!"

“Cas- I… I need to help…” Despite his words, Dean’s legs gave out completely and he slid to the ground.

Cas bent down to Dean’s level, then pulled him upright. “You don’t need to help anyone because no one’s in danger. Trust me.” His blue eyes, dark in the night were still somehow clear.

And Dean did… he did trust Cas, so he let his friend pull him away from all the confusion as a fresh batch of kids came spilling out of the doors.

When they were a safe distance away, Cas eased and let Dean on the ground. “Are you alright?” He asked worried.

Dean didn’t want to tell Cas that if he looked like he was about to faint, it had nothing to do with the thrashing. He was about to wave the worry off with some loose comment when his vision was diverted to the 4th story window from which smoke was erupting.

“What happened?” Dean asked.

Again, Cas grinned, then looked down at Dean with glee. “Your friend Will is a genius.”

“He set the place on fire?” Dean’s eyes widened and he stood up despite the screaming pain in his legs.

“Not really,” Cas said, his lips still quirked up. “He said something about incomplete combustion causing a lot of smoke and stripped wires lying in the corridor.”

When Dean’s appalled expression didn’t change, Cas gave him a reassuring smile, “Don’t worry, he is smart, he knew what he was doing.” Then, Cas suddenly gave a sheepish expression. “The whole deal was sort of my idea. Gabriel’s little stunt the other day inspired me.”

Dean didn’t know what to say. The smoke that was now pouring out of the open windows of not just the fourth floor but also the floor below and bellowing into the open air, was making his eyes water. However, that wasn’t what was making his throat tight. Cas had just made enemies out of people who were basically the closest thing he had to a family for Dean. And that little kid, whose face Dean didn’t even know had gone out of the way to do God knows what to set the alarms blaring… for him! If anyone ever found out what Will had done...

He turned to Cas, thinking of words that would convey the gratitude he felt, when Andy rushed out of the building, carrying what seemed like the last of the children.

Hundreds of kids were huddled down, looking at the smoke stained dark sky. Some crying, some clutching on to the little blankets. Dean looked at all the faces, the red noses, the tear stained eyes, as tiny hands found one another… and in all those faces he tried to look for the one that mattered. And with a jolt in his stomach Dean realised that the unknown face he was so hopelessly searching for wasn’t Sam’s. It was Will’s.

******************************

A/N 2: I am sorry once more about the delay. Please tell me what you think? I love you guys xoxo

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pinkbubbles-and-bigtroubles · 5 years

Text

Watching You Walking Away

Haven’t posted much original content lately so here’s some Michael smut. Hope you enjoy!! Feedback is much appreciated

Michael kicked back in the booth, enjoying the taste of a pint of Sharp's. He'd always loved British beer, and he was already on round four. Or was it five? It had rained since they touched down in London, and Calum was spending the day with his sister before their show tomorrow. Luke had a cold so it was just Ashton with him in the pub tonight. It was next door to the hotel they always stayed at and had great food. They'd started the night washing down greasy sausages and chips with a couple pints of ale. Ashton, always chatty but worse when he was drinking, was sharing tour horror stories with another drummer in town for the festival they were also playing. Michael laughed at how Ashton always drew a crowd wherever he went. He was about to chime in with some details Ashton forgot when his voice died in his throat.

The way she moved was so familiar but hard to place from across the room with alcohol clouding his brain. Until she laughed, and Michael was suddenly transported back to when he was 17 and she was his whole world.

"What's wrong? You look like you've seen a ghost," Ashton nudged his arm and Michael, at a loss for words, could only nod towards the table across the room in response.

Ashton followed his eyes, "holy shit is that Lux?" Michael shivered at the nickname he'd given her. He cursed Ashton silently for being so loud as she looked up at the sound of her name, lighting up in a smile as she saw the drummer. She leapt up and met Ashton halfway as he wrapped her up in a giant hug. Michael watched them chatting unable to hear anything but his pulse pounding in his ears.

He'd met Lucy when they were both skinny 14 year olds obsessed with guitars and punk rock. He'd taught her chords, and she'd taught him how to french kiss. They'd written songs together, and promised they'd always be friends. Hazy memories that now competed with the present of how good she looked tonight. Her hair was longer, and the skirt she had on teased a tattoo on her thigh he was instantly curious to see. Lux was laughing with Ashton when her eyes met Michael's. Her eyes went wide and she grinned at him causing his heart, at least he thought it was his heart, to start doing flips. She rushed over to him and he quickly stood up to greet her. They stumbled into a hug, electricity dancing across his skin as they touched.

"Wow it's been years, you still look decent though. How's everything with the guys?" Lux asked smirking when Michael just stared and couldn't answer right away.

"You look beautiful, but you always have," he stammered out. Oh yeah real smooth Clifford, he thought.

"So you gonna buy me a drink or not?" Lux teased and he nodded, signaling the waitress.

"How's things with your band?" Michael asked trying to keep the conversation neutral.

"Everything is good. We're doing two nights here in London before doing a quick tour of the UK and then it's off to Europe for a couple months. We switched record labels last year, and they're more supportive . They're allowing us more freedom to try new things instead of wanting to remake that first album again and again." Lux eyes flickered away and he saw the pain that still lingered.

Her first album, Sinking Ships, had gone #1 in several countries and even cracked the top 10 in the US. The first two singles, Bruise Me and You, had been fairly successful. She'd followed that with Return To Me, a haunting ballad about a cheating lover, that had been a big hit. The entire album was about their breakup, and Michael still felt gut punched anytime he heard those songs.

"Yeah record labels can be difficult, we just signed a new deal ourselves," he finished his beer in two gulps. He noticed her glass was almost empty as well.

"You want another?" He asked and Lux nodded. After he ordered she leaned in and whispered in his ear, "you probably shouldn't get too drunk if you want to have a chance later."

Michael choked on the breath in his throat and she cracked up knowing the effect she was having on him. Neither were virgins when they slept together at 16 but neither had had a particularly good sexual encounter yet. They learned together, taking time to learn each other's bodies. Sneaking off every chance they got, practicing with hands and tongues before Lux got on the pill and they went all the way.

They were drunk that night too. She'd swiped a bottle of wine from her mom's pantry and Calum managed to get a 12 pack of beer and he snuck the booze and his girlfriend into Michael's. They'd played truth or dare, girls kissing girls, boys kissing boys, tops came off, fantasies discussed until Calum pulled Michael aside. Not long after that Lux and Michael were making out and giggling on Michael's bed at Calum's efforts to keep his girl quiet while they banged. Michael's hands found their way into her jeans and soon they were the ones trying to keep quiet. Before long she was sneaking out every weekend to spend the night with him.

"Here ya go," The waitress brought them both out of their thoughts and back to reality setting down two fresh pints giving Michael a once over and a knowing smile at Lux.

"Truth or dare?" she asked him watching his jaw drop at the question.

"How did you know I was thinking about that?" Michael chuckled.

"We've always been on the same wavelength," she teased back. "Come on darling, truth or dare?"

He took another swallow of beer, pacing himself a bit. "Truth," he said, biting his bottom lip.

Lux almost groaned at the sight. She remembered those lips, and it was taking everything she had not to kiss him right now.

"Did you ever feel bad?" She asked, not caring if it killed the mood. She might never get this chance again.

"Of course I did. I knew I fucked up, but didn't know how to fix it. When Sinking Ships came out I spent an entire weekend listening to it while drinking and sobbing. We'd always had difficulties but that tour just broke everything. We were too young and life was moving too fast," he confessed.

"That's an interesting way to look at it. I hope it really hurt, I stopped hating you, but it took years," Lux looked down but didn't pull away when he took her hand.

"I hated myself, I spent the next two years trying to drink enough to forget. I'm really sorry, if that means anything,"

"Thank you," she nodded. "What do you mean we always had difficulties? I was a delight."

"Says the girl who kissed Calum right in front of me at my own birthday party," Michael reminded her.

"I should've known you'd bring that up," Lux rolled her eyes. "What about when I caught you kissing Jaslene over at Ashton's."

"Completely unrelated, you'd broken up with me and went to your grandma's during school holiday. I had no idea you were even back," he protested.

"I forgot how irritating you can be," she griped.

"You used to think it was cute," Michael smirked.

"Did I? Can't remember that." Lux was defiant.

"Remember that time you thought I was hitting on that girl and you pushed me into the pool." He laughed at the memory.

"What about when I caught you wanking off in my bedroom because you thought I was downstairs talking to my mom," she hit back and he blushed.

"Remember how both those stories end?" His voice husky and low raising chills along her spine.

"I should probably go," she told him scooting away from him as she finished her beer.

"You can't leave yet, it's still my turn," he said and she looked at him puzzled. "Truth or Dare Lux." He saw the answer in her eyes before she opened her mouth.

"Dare." Her dark eyes met his with a challenge.

"Kiss me.” He'd barely finished speaking when her lips were on his. His hands wrapped around her pulling her into him as his tongue met hers. She squeezed his thigh making him moan into her mouth. He broke away to kiss her neck when she stopped him.

"Let's get out of here," she panted, before landing a kiss on his jaw.

Michael paid his tab and followed Lux outside. He trailed behind her silently to the hotel listening to her boots click on the pavement. They got in the elevator and Lux winked at him and licked her lips. He pushed the button for his floor while Lux chatted with other guests. She followed him to his room smacking his ass playfully as he fiddled with his key card.

When he got the door open she pushed her way in, taking off her leather jacket and dropping it in a chair. Michael stood there a minute staring in disbelief that this was actually happening. His brain was cloudy with memories and booze, and suddenly he knew this was a bad idea.

"I have tattoos and piercings you've never seen before," she murmured as she stepped closer to him pushing his jacket off his shoulders and it hit the floor.

That woke him from his thoughts and when her lips met his again he was done for. A surge of desire hit him as he deepened the kiss. His hands wrapped around her waist before sliding down to cup her ass. She pulled back, his bottom lip between her teeth raking it roughly causing him to hiss.

"Weak," she laughed at him while tugging at his shirt and belt.

He pulled his shirt off and reached around her to unzip her dress while he kissed and nibbled his way up her throat thrilling at the gasps she made and the way she was pressing her body against his. Lux kicked her dress to the side.

"Jump," Michael whispered in her ear. When she did he caught her wrapping her thighs around his waist, sucking a mark on his neck as he carried her to the bed. Michael laid her on the bed, before stepping back to look at her. Lux smirked at him, pulling her bra over her head causing Michael to groan at the sight of her bare breasts adorned with silver barbells through her dark nipples. He fell upon her sucking a trail from one nipple to another as his fingers crept under the elastic of her panties.

"Oh you've gotten better," Lux moaned as he teased her clit with his thumb while two fingers easily slid inside her wetness. He turned his attention away from her breasts to kiss her while he slowly pumped his fingers inside her.

The whimpers coming from her had his cock straining against his jeans, but he ignored his own needs wanting to focus on her. He returned his tongue to her stiff nipples seeking his attention as his fingers curled inside of her stroking her g-spot at a tortuously slow pace.

"Shit," she yelled bucking her hips needing more from him than his teasing. He moved his head between her legs pulling her panties off, leaving her knee high boots on and pulling one leg so it was resting on his shoulder.

"I thought you didn't eat pussy," Lux teased him but her voice was breathy.

"I'm not a kid anymore." He winked at her before landing a kiss on the inside of her thigh. He sank his teeth into her soft flesh and she thrust her hips up towards him. Michael chuckled pulling his fingers out of her and sucking them clean while looking up at her. He planted light fluttery kisses on her thighs working his way towards her core. Lux bit her lip determined not to beg, but when Michael landed a soft kiss on her clit she shuddered and dug her nails into the duvet.

Michael ignored his own almost painful arousal to concentrate on her dragging his tongue through her slick folds reveling in the sweet taste of her desire. He proceeded to deliver a flurry of kitten licks to her sensitive bud before wrapping his lips around it gently tugging and sucking simultaneously.

"Oh shit," Lux squeezed her eyes shut and he forced her legs farther apart so he could fuck her with his tongue. Despite her thighs pressing against his ears, he could hear her cries becoming louder, more desperate. Returning his mouth to work on her clit he pushed his fingers back inside of her pumping a steady rhythm.

"Oh God, Yesssss, right there, right there," she moaned watching as the beautiful blonde boy brought her to the peak of pleasure. Her senses tumbled as she bucked her hips uncontrollably against his face clutching at his hair curses of ecstasy spilling from her lips. Michael lapped up the nectar of her orgasm until her thighs were shaking and she begged him to stop.

He stood up and looked down at her, a wicked grin across his face as she caught her breath. Next thing he knew she sat up and yanked his jeans down palming him through his boxer briefs. He moaned loudly as she rubbed the tip of his cock through the increasingly large wet spot on the fabric. She eased his boxers down his legs grazing her nails along his thighs watching his cock twitch against his stomach at the sensation. She ran her tongue along the ridge under the head before parting her lips and taking him in her mouth.

Lux bobbed her head, not taking him all the way down teasing him before releasing his cock with an audible pop. "You're not the only one who's learned new tricks," she smirked up at him batting her lashes innocently. "I want you to pull my hair and fuck my throat."

Michael's jaw dropped at her words but he only hesitated for a second. Grabbing her curls he let out a long moan as she swallowed his cock until her lips brushed the base. He went slow at first letting her adjust until they were moving together. Watching her brown eyes looking up at him while her pretty lips were wrapped around his cock was the hottest thing he'd ever seen. She began to choke a little and he saw tears in her eyes.

"Do you want me to stop?" He asked pulling back.

Lux smacked her lips, "I want you to cum baby, let me taste you." She hummed as she began sucking him off again getting turned on by the grunts Michael was making each time she took him all the way down. She rubbed her nipples getting incredibly aroused as she let him use her for his pleasure. It wasn't long before she felt his cock filling up and his speed increasing. With a shout he threw his head back and erupted down her throat. She swallowed most of his cum but some escaped her lips and began to drip down her chin. Lux pulled back and pumped him a few times rubbing her face against his shaft before he shuddered and pulled back. His eyes went wide as she wiped her chin clean and licked her fingers smacking her lips loudly.

Michael had to sit on the edge of the bed before his legs gave out, and Lux hopped up and walked across the room to pick up her jacket.

"Are you leaving?" He asked a bit embarrassed at how pitiful he sounded.

Lux just laughed and grabbed her wallet it out of her jacket pocket pulling out two condoms. She looked back at Michael, his green eyes glazed over with lust, and his chest rising and falling as his breathing returning to normal. The paleness of his skin contrasting with the black ink of his tattoos and the purple hickeys blooming on his neck. He wasn't the skinny teenager she'd remembered fumbling around in the dark.

He kicked his shoes and pants off quickly unable to stop staring. The way she was so bold and forward was incredibly sexy, and not like the girl he used to know. That girl never had the confidence to walk around stark naked in nothing but leather boots and silver jewelry. He could feel himself already starting to stir again.

Lux tossed him the condoms, "I hope you can get it up again so you can fuck me." She ran her hands up her sides to her breasts tugging her nipples while slightly swaying her hips. His eyes followed her hands across her body and she could see he was starting to get hard again. She stepped closer to him placing one leg between his, her hand reaching behind his head tugging his head back so he was looking up at her.

"Touch yourself, but keep your hands to yourself until I say so," she whispered before kissing him. Her other hand trailed doesn't his chest raising chills under her nails causing him to hum against her lips. Lux straightened up brushing her nipple against his lips which he immediately flicked his tongue across the puckered skin feeling it stiffen for him. He swirled his tongue again this time ghosting his teeth across it causing them both to whimper. She glanced down to see him slowly stroking dick which was now hard and starting to leak.

"Turn your back to the bed and put the condom on," she told him stepping back and he quickly jumped to his feet, ripping the foil open. When he turned back around Lux was on knees and elbows on the bed looking back at him, wiggling her ass in the air.

"I remember how you like it baby," she giggled using her best baby girl voice.

His smile transformed into a smirk as he got behind her on his knees teasing her entrance with the head of his cock. She tried to push back but he wouldn't let that happen riding his length against her pussy. She grunted in frustration and tried again, but he did the same thing.

"Quit playing Mikey and just fuck me," she snapped glaring at him over her shoulder.

"Patience babe, I'm enjoying the view." He smacked her ass grinning at her.

"If you don't get on with--OHHHHHH." Michael waited till mid sentence to push deep inside her in one stroke. He closed his eyes taking a second to savor the feeling before pulling almost all the way out and then drive his cock back inside her. Deep slow strokes so they felt every inch of each other, her walls welcoming and grasping his thick shaft as he hit every pleasure spot. He reached around to allow his fingers to find her clit working slow circles to match his strokes as the sounds of skin on skin and their moans filled the room.

"Harder, harder," she gasped begging him.

"What was that?" Michael wanted her to say it again.

"Fuck me harder daddy, make me cum," Lux whined, "please Mikey."

"Oh hell yeah." He smacked her ass and went harder, pounding her pussy relentlessly. His fingers rubbing her clit giving it a couple little slaps which made her squeal with delight.

"I'm so close, right there, harder dammit," she commanded, the sheets tightly balled in her fists.

He felt her body tense up and squeeze him tightly and he kept fucking her through her orgasm, as she buried her face in a pillow to contain her shreiks. He pulled out admiring and running his fingers lightly along her glistening quivering sex before lying next to her on the bed.

She rolled over so she was on her side pressed against him tracing her nails along his chest down to his happy trail for a minute while kissing his neck. When she'd recovered she slung her leg over his hips hovering above him.

She sank down on his cock digging her nails into his chest as she did making him moan out a curse. Lux threw her head back and began to grind her hips. Michael had one hand on her hip and the other snaked up to her breasts. She began to ride his dick. Bouncing and twerking while she rolled her hips and touched herself. Michael watched her through half open eyes cursing and calling out whenever she squeezed him tighter inside of her. He grabbed her hips, his fingers digging into her flesh as he fucked up into her.

"Oh fuck, oh God, I can't," Lux gasped her legs starting to shake again.

"Yes you can, cum for me again baby. Look at me when you cum," he groaned knowing his own climax was getting closer.

"No, no, no, shit, fuck." She tried to keep her eyes on him as her orgasm hit but her eyes rolled back as she began to shake. Michael grabbed her hips, sat up and pushed her onto her back hooking one arm under her knee. Her nails dug into his shoulders as his hips rutted into her chasing his own high.

"Yes baby cum for me Mikey, feels so good baby," she moaned in his ear leaving kisses on his chest.

"Lux, Lucy, baby." Michael was moaning over her. "FUCK." He slammed into her with a shout as he came hard, his orgasm coursing through his entire body. he lay on top of her trembling while she squeezed around him milking his cock. Afterwards he pulled out carefully and went into the bathroom to dispose of the condom and get her a towel.

He helped her clean up and they laid back on the bed sweaty and still panting, her head on his chest. "That was much better than I remembered," she joked.

"You were pretty amazing then too, but that was amazing," he replied kissing her hairline.

They dozed off together like that and when Michael woke up he was surprised to find Lux up and getting dressed.

"You're leaving?" He sat up and started looking for his clothes.

"Don't get up, I've gotta get up in the morning so I'm gonna go," she found her bra and pulled her dress back on. She turned her back to him, "Can you zip me up?"

He tried to sneak his hands inside her dress but she shook her head with a laugh, "Just zip it."

"At least let me get your number, we can talk or something. I'll take you out to dinner maybe," he stammered pulling his pants on.

"And then what? We become friends? Give it another go? Nah that's not gonna end well, I'm never gonna be able to forget how badly you broke my heart. I even have a Grammy on my mantle to remind me that I still kind of hate you." Lux looked almost sad but she shook it off.

"Then why did you come back with me? Was this out of spite?" Michael stared at her in disbelief.

"No, I came back with you because as much as I still kinda hate you there's part of me that still kinda loves you. I wanted a better goodbye for us. This is better." Lux kissed his cheek and turned to go before she stopped. "I also did it because I really wanted to fuck you and I'm glad I did. That was the best sex I've ever had, no regrets."

He swallowed, nodding, not willing to fight her now when he wouldn’t fight for her then.

Michael watched her walk away, their roles were reversed this time. He wondered if he'd ever see her again, or if it was the best ending they could've hoped for. He pulled out his notebook, and began to write his thoughts. He'd find her again in a song.

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