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bowlegsandbiceps · 4 years

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Suptober Day 4: Daydream

Technically

Explicit / Case!Fic - Djinn / Destiel / 6,130 words

Read on AO3

Suptober Masterlist (A03)

This is Dean Winchester. Leave your name, number, and nightmare at the tone.

Castiel sat behind the wheel of the Continental and sighed, his head falling back against the rest as he swallowed thickly. “Hello, Dean. Just wanted to check-in. I’m in-“ Castiel leaned forward, peering at the flag pole in front of the police station and tried to remember if the yellow flag with the red sun was New Mexico or Arizona, “-New Mexico now, still following that trail of disappearances. All indicators are pointing to a Djinn, possibly many of them.”

Castiel closed his eyes and shifted uncomfortably in his seat, pinching the bridge of his nose as he hooked his elbows over the steering wheel. “Dean, there’s something I need to tell you. Well, I did tell you, but it turned out you’d been transported into that animation with the talking dog, and then I was also-“ Castiel dropped his forehead to his forearm and sighed. “When I got the fruit from the Tree of Life, the tree was guarded by a pack of Djinn. I killed most of them and managed to bargain with the rest. I think… I ended up married to their queen.” Castiel winced. “Technically. Uh, given that revelation, I might require your assistance when I’ve located them. I’ll keep you abreast of the situation. Give Sam my regards.”

Castiel felt his stomach churn, wishing he’d just hung up. He’d wanted to tell Dean in person or at least in real-time. Dean hated deals. Especially hated when Castiel made them without consulting him first, which Castiel never did, so they seemed to be frequently at odds these days. Castiel shook his head and leaned back again, fingers twisting around the wheel. Dean wouldn’t be mad. He’d probably think it was hilarious that Castiel ended up King of a monster clan. Technically.

This is my voicemail. Please make your voice… a mail.

Dean rolled his eyes as the tone sounded, dragging his feet against concrete as he wandered around the end of a table.

“Cas. It’s Dean, technically returning your call,” Dean chuckled to himself before he became momentarily distracted by Sam coming out of the kitchen with a plate and licked his lips. “Uh, I don’t remember you talking about any Djinn wedding. Technically or otherwise.” Dean made his way over, Sam giving a bewildered look of concern. Dean waved him off, snatching a cracker from the plate and examining it. “Sam’s hurt he wasn’t invited.” Sam glared at him. He popped the cracker into his mouth but stopped mid-chew to make a disgusted face. “Ugh, how did they manage to fuck up a cracker? Anyway, call us back with details. We’ll check out the lore in the meantime.”

“Djinn wedding?” Sam asked, lifting an eyebrow as Dean wrinkled his nose regarding the hummus and almond crackers on his plate.

“Cas apparently bartered his maidenhood for that fruit that opened the portal to Apocalypse World.” Dean lifted his hands and made air quotes. “Technically”

Both of Sam’s eyebrows lifted as he blinked at his brother. “Are... are you okay?”

Dean’s face shifted in confusion, “Me? Ye-ah… Did you mean him?”

“No. Well, yeah. I mean, of course, but...”

“But what?” Dean crossed his arms over his chest and shot him a critical look.

“You...” Sam pressed his lips together and then heaved a sigh, his shoulders sagging. “I know how you are about Cas.”

Dean’s arms tightened. “And how is that?”

Sam blinked. Dean blinked back and Sam’s lips twitched trying to hide a smile. “Technically?” Dean rolled his eyes. “Protective.”

Dean snorted, arms falling back to his sides. “Yeah, of him and everyone else. Whatever, we need to research monster divorces. Let’s go.”

This is Sam Winchester’s voicemail. Leave a message at the beep.

Castiel tugged at his tie, loosening it around his neck as he dropped his keys on the dresser. He pressed his lips together in frustration as the tone sounded.

“Sam, hello. It’s Cas.” He heaved a sigh. “I called your brother but haven’t heard back…” Castiel checked his pockets, wondering suddenly if he’d called from his main phone or one of the others. He shook his head. “Uh, I’ve narrowed the location of the clan down to a cave system on federal land. I have an appointment to tour the cavern that’s open to the public this afternoon, but the system covers over 200 miles, most of which is unexplored. They could be anywhere.” Cas heaved another sigh. “I… I think the queen is with them.” Cas ran a hand down his face. “Hope you’re well.”

Castiel brought the phone from his ear, looking at it for a moment before he ended the call, and as he set it down, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. He looked haggard, deep circles under his eyes, and he knew he needed to get more sleep. He looked at the bed, contemplating.

Castiel started to dream of the Djinn Queen shortly after arriving in New Mexico. Dreaming was still new and unsettling to him; the fact that his human mind could conjure sights and smells…feel touch in such vivid clarity only for it all to be imagination was difficult to fathom. A certain part of him, the one that still remembered being a full-fledged angel, that witnessed God imagine entire ecosystems into existence, feared the power of such episodes. Could he, fallen angel that he was with barely a speck of grace left, unwittingly dream horror into existence? Or, perhaps more terrifying to him, a deeply buried desire?

Ultimately his fatigue won out, and Castiel was asleep before his head hit the mattress. He found himself in the passenger seat of the Impala as she cut through the black night, the only things visible the quarter-mile of road in her high beams and what little of the interior was illuminated by the dashboard glow. Dean had one wrist hanging over the wheel, his arm resting on the seatback, fingertips so close to Cas’ shoulder he could almost feel the heat of them. He was singing along to the radio with a level of comfort Castiel only ever saw from him when he was drunk but with none of the additional camp.

Tell me now, baby, is he good to you? Can he do to you the things that I do? I can take you higher…

Dean’s smooth baritone was dark and rich over the non-lexical vocals before adding a bit of growl. I’m on fire.

Green eyes met Cas’ full-on, Dean’s face haunting in the low light, and Cas felt his stomach bottom out. One hand still on the wheel, Dean’s other finally moved to his shoulder, and Dean was leaning over, the car impossibly staying on the road straight as an arrow. Cas felt the heat of Dean’s breath against his lips, his vessel’s heart slamming into his rib cage, and just as they were about to connect, Dean began to dissolve, turning to wisps of smoke that swirled with the darkness.

Cas squinted, blinking as black lightened to purple, and out of the fog walked a woman, willow limbed and dark, golden tattoos glittering on terra cotta skin. Her inky black hair was covered in a golden scarf, the plait falling over her shoulder down to her waist, body wrapped in silks. Castiel swallowed hard, feeling a prickling sense of danger as he looked into her large almond eyes.

“Castiel.”

Her voice was a whisper or maybe an echo. It tickled his ears, and he found himself frozen and unable to move as her hand lifted, palm pressing directly over his heart.

Castiel woke with a gasp, body rising into a sitting position on sheer adrenaline alone. He looked around, disoriented, taking in the mystery stains on the carpet and the cracks in the plaster. He breathed in and out slow with eyes closed until he once again felt grounded.

You have reached the voicemail box of: I don’t understand. Why… why do you want me to say my name?

Sam snorted a laugh as the beep sounded, glancing over his shoulder at Dean, who was squinting at a shelf of books, fingers skimming spines.

“Hey Cas, it’s Sam. Sorry, I missed you; uh, sounds like you could use that help now, buddy. Send your coordinates, and we’ll get out there. Dean says hi.”

“Yeah yeah,” Dean grumbled, waving a hand at Sam who’d held his phone out to Dean, and Sam laughed.

“Call us back, man. Bye.”

“Can you believe he married some monster queen to get that wackadoo fruit?” Dean’s eyes lit up as he found the title he was looking for and pulled it from the shelf.

“Since the fruit was for you, yeah, I can.” It was muttered under Sam’s breath, so he wasn’t surprised when Dean squinted at him and brought two fingers up to touch his earlobe. “Nothing. Yeah, Cas, King of the Djinn. Who’dduh thunk?”

You’ve reached C- uh… Steve’s voicemail. Pl-please, call me back. I mean, I’ll leave you a message. Wait…

“Yeah, okay, Steve. It’s Dean. I dunno if you still check this number but… uh, I know we’ve been playing phone tag for a bit, but you’ve technically been It for a while now, which… you probably have no idea what I’m talking about… see ‘It’ is a game of- you know what? Just call me back.”

This is Dean’s other, other cell so, you must know what to do.

“Dean. It’s me. I believe I’ve located my- the clan. Does the lore mention anything about Dreamwalking? My vess- I’m very tired. I’m going to try Sam.”

Hey, Sam can’t come to the phone right now because he’s waxing, like everything, but leave a message and- Dude, what are you doing with my phone? Dean! Come on!

“Sam, it’s Castiel. As I told Dean’s mailbox, I believe I’ve located m- the clan of Djinn. A guide from the cave tour helped me narrow down the options, and I’ve spent the afternoon- It doesn’t matter; I’ve determined it’s one of two locations, though, which is anyone’s guess. Let me know when you’re on your way and I’ll text you coordinates. I need- I’m going to lay down. I’ve put a chair in front of the door in case I sleepwalk again.”

This is Agent Beyonce with the FBI. Please leave your name and number at the tone, and I will return your call.

“Jesus, Cas you gotta quit with… never mind. I texted you when we left but, uh we’re crossing the state line into Oklahoma now. Seriously, pick up. Your messages were weird even for you… Sam’s starting to worry… You know how he is, the big dumb moose. Anyway, send your coordinates and let us know you didn’t go off and do something stupid.”

This is my voicemail. Please make your voice… a mail.

“Hey, Cas, it’s Sam. We just crossed into New Mexico, and we still haven’t heard from you. Only two national parks here, so I guess we’ll just hit Carlsbad first unless we hear from you… Uh, call one of us back, okay? Dean’s… freakin’ out. See you soon, buddy.

You have reached the voicemail box of: I don’t understand. Why… why do you want me to say my name?

“CAS! Where the hell are you, man? If you’ve just fucked off to Heaven or some shit and are not actually in danger I’m going to technically kick your ass. ”

This is Agent Beyonce with the FBI. Please leave your name and number at the tone, and I will return your call.

“I swear to god Cas if you make me ask Rowena for help I will fucking… ugh.”

This is my voicemail. Please make your voice… a mail.

Voicemail box is full.

You have reached the voicemail box of: I don’t understand. Why… why do you want me to say my name?

Voicemail box is full.

This is Agent Beyonce with the FBI. Please leave your name and number at the tone, and I will return your call.

Voicemail box is full.

This is Dean Winchester. If this is an emergency, leave a message. If this is about the Lincoln Continental, text me your coordinates.

“Hello, Dean, I got your message about our sweet angel and that is just awful! I am beside myself with worry for the poor lad. I would love to help you find him but I am just completely covered up at the moment trying to work out this convunctionation spell and, well, you know how tricky those are even with the Book of the Damned at your disposal. If I could just get a wee peek at the Book, I could wrap this up and work out a triangulation on our dear Castiel post haste! Oh and please tell Samuel I said hello. I miss our chats…”

“I still don’t think we should have given her the conjunctivitis spell,” Dean grumbled, wiping sweat from his upper lip, thighs burning as they trudged through the sand.

“It’s convunc- it doesn’t matter.” Sam huffed, making a disgruntled face as he pushed the damp hair from his forehead. “Ugh It’s gotta be a hundred and ten out here.”

Dean snorted, adjusting the bag on his shoulder. “At least. I got swamp ass like you would not believe.”

“Gross, dude.”

“Oh, what like you don’t?” Dean gave him a look, and Sam pressed his lips together in his version of bitchface that indicated he was trying to avoid Dean calling him out on his bitchface. “How much farther?”

Sam looked down at his phone, the red dot that was them a mere blip away from the green dot of their location. “Another mile. Dean, are you… do you think I should go in first? A-alone.”

Dean gave him a look that implied he was taking strong consideration into poking him with the silver knife in his hand. “No?”

Sam sighed. “I mean, the… the lore was pretty explicit. If we interrupt the mating ritual-”

“Not gonna happen. Cas can’t get laid to save his life.”

Sam opened his mouth to remind him of April but closed it again, thinking better of it. “I’m just saying. Given… you know… the tension between you guys-”

“Tension? What tension?” Dean’s face screwed up in annoyance, and Sam merely blinked at him, his lips a thin, unimpressed line. “Look, it’s not like I ain’t walked in on anyone mid-bone before.” Dean snorted and threw a hand at him. “I’ve walked in on you mid-bone more times than-”

“Alright, alright,” Sam adjusted the pack on his shoulder and tried to ignore the heat crawling up his neck.

“I still don’t get why you get so embarrassed about it.”

“Because you always start cheering as soon as you realize what’s happening, Dean!” Sam snapped, his voice rising an octave, and Dean sniggered, throwing an arm around his brother.

“Well, it always looks like you could use the encouragement.”

Castiel stood naked, feet shoulder-width apart and arms at his sides with his palms facing forward and tried very hard to pretend he was somewhere else. Four female Djinn all equally naked surrounded him, the tattoos that covered every inch of their loose and sagging skin faded to a dull green. Each elder wielded a brush, and the sensation of horsehair bristles on different parts of him - right foot, the outside of his left thigh, between his shoulder blades and around his navel - all at once disoriented him.

He’d been standing for hours, maybe days, clothed at first as the Djinn Queen heard arguments from challengers to his reign. Luckily only two had been found worthy, and the fight to the death was swift with each. Djinn had no head for battle and Castiel, while not exactly thrilled that he’d played an active part in winning the Djinn Queen, was happy to at least live another day to give Dean and Sam a chance to rescue him.

A brush tickled at the back of his knee, and he jerked, the movement prompting a guard to send a pulse of blue light into his lower back.

Cas’ eyes snapped open as a shrill scream pierced his consciousness. He blinked in the blue light of a laptop screen where a girl hung from a meathook. Just as a chainsaw started up, a hand slid up to hit the spacebar, the thing wearing a mask of human skin frozen on the screen. An arm around his shoulders tugged him in tighter.

“d’I lose ya there, buddy?”

Castiel twisted his neck to look up, and sparkling green eyes struck him dumb, the fond smile gracing Dean’s lips like none Castiel had ever seen before. His eyes tracked the movement as Dean leaned in, Cas’ eyes crossing as plush lips pressed to his hairline, then between his eyes, then the tip of his nose, and before Castiel even knew what was happening, he felt a finger hook under his chin, tilting his head up just a fraction more, and those lips were on his.

He felt a surge of energy crackle along his skin though he remained motionless, and he felt Dean’s smile as the lights around them flickered. “Easy tiger.”

Castiel could only blink as Dean reached to close the laptop, leaning over the side of the bed to place it on the floor before coming back in with both hands, taking Castiel’s face and holding it with such reverence as his eyes searched Castiel’s. His brow creased.

“You okay?”

Castiel’s eyelids fluttered as Dean’s thumbs smudged his cheekbones, a tender gesture meant to soothe before one stretched to smooth the crinkle in his brow, and Castiel could only nod. He felt… amazing. Warm and clean and… powerful. The lights flickered again as he reached out with his grace, feeling his wings twitch and spread. Dean’s face smoothed to awe as his eyes flicked over Cas’ shoulder and back again. Dean’s mouth snapped shut, lips puckering as if trying to hold in a laugh, but he ultimately failed, snorting a bit as his face broke into a wide grin. Castiel felt his own lips part as a smile tugged at the corners.

“Quit.” Dean reached to pinch at Castiel’s nipple through the thin cotton of his t-shirt, and Cas’ back arched. Dean grinned harder. “Not that I don’t appreciate the mating dance, but it’s hell on the wiring. Let’s just get down to business, hmm?” Dean was smiling right until their lips met and…

Sharp pain in the back of his head brought Castiel back to reality, and he realized he was on his knees, hands braced against the stone floor. The Elders flocked to him then, screeching and swatting at the young guard who was being dragged back by another. Their shouts were a cacophony in his head though they made no sound. He hadn’t been able to hear them before now, only the queen.

He looked down at himself as the old females hooked arms under his elbows, urging him back up to his feet, and saw that every inch of his skin was covered in golden ink, like an elaborate henna tattoo. He recognized the shapes on his arms, seeing similar on his Qu- the queen. He wondered how long he’d been out and what’d they’d done to him during that time.

Castiel winced as a booming voice, echoed in his head. “The time has come. Her majesty Queen Raisa approaches to claim her consort!”

Castiel looked up and, at the entrance of the cave, saw the silhouette of a figure and was struck dumb by the beauty of her. She seemed to glide toward him, the maids that flanked her sides, casting juniper blossoms at her feet as she made her way towards him, the thin shift of white silk doing little to hide the shape of her body. Her black hair hung down her back in shining waves, framed her heart-shaped face, and he found his arms reaching out to her, fingers grappling as she came within arms reach. Her hand caught his, palm soft in his own.

A flash of a dream or maybe a memory hit his mind like a discordant note - warm skin against his, hands traveling over the flat planes and hard muscles of a back, the scrape of stubble against his neck - and then it was gone. Castiel blinked hard, the face of his queen coming into focus once again, and she blinked, her tender brow wrinkling ever so slightly. Castiel brought his hands up to hold her face, thumbs smoothing away her worry. The gesture… it felt… familiar, but not as if he’d done it before as if it’d been done to him.

“Get away from him!”

The echo of a voice against the stone walls nearly brought Castiel to his knees after what felt to him like an eternity of physical silence. Gunshots boomed, and Castiel wanted to reach for his queen but felt as if his ears were bleeding. She had ahold of him, her head turned towards the entrance of the cave while her hands wrapped around his elbows to keep him from sinking to the ground.

It was too bright, Castiel’s eyes watering as he tried to look past her and saw Dean hurtling towards them at full tilt, knife raised. His queen’s attention begged for his own, and he obeyed, eyes moving to hold hers as Dean took a flying leap from the cavern floor up onto the dais.

Castiel wanted to shout, to warn, or stand to protect, but his queen held him steady, her dark eyes conveying the silent request to stay still, and he gladly complied, though anxiety prickled along his skin. Dean appeared over her shoulder, glowing at the edges just like when he’d found him in Hell, so very bright Castiel had to squint. The Djinn Queen turned just as Dean was about to bring the blood-soaked silver knife down, and Castiel felt her grip slide down to his wrist, thumb aligning with his pulse point as her other hand caught Dean in the same place. Blue light engulfed all three.

Dean was pressing kisses down the center of his chest, Castiel’s eyes blinking at the cracks in the ceiling, so he was unprepared for the wet warmth of Dean’s mouth around the tip of his cock. He nearly arched completely off the bed, wide blue eyes crashing into lustful green before they skittered away. Dean’s hand came up to grip him, a steadying gesture as he licked his lips before taking him in again, this time sucking him in deeper, the flat of his velvet tongue pressing and rolling firmly against the sensitive spot beneath the head.

Castiel’s eyes rolled back, hand reaching to thread into too-short hair, dull nails scratching at Dean’s scalp when he couldn’t hold on. He was lost in the pleasure of it, Dean’s hands moving to run over his thighs as his mouth dropped all the way down. His own cry of ecstasy startled him, almost choking on it, and Dean’s mouth was suddenly gone.

Cas opened his eyes, feeling the mattress depress on either side of his legs at different intervals before Dean’s knees sunk into the sheets on either side of his hips. Castiel was mesmerized by him, miles of tanned, freckled skin, the muscles of his thighs bulging as he kneeled over him, one hand jerking himself lazily. Castiel watched Dean savor it, wetting his perfectly pink lips before biting the bottom one when he added a twist of his wrist at the end.

Castiel knocked Dean’s hand away, jealousy and lust mixing together as his own hand closed around Dean, watching the younger man’s head tip back, mouth opening in a silent ‘O’ of pleasure. Dean rocked into Cas’ fist, one hand reaching to run his fingertips over his own collarbone before flattening his palm against his chest and letting it slide down.

Cas watched as that hand disappeared over Dean’s hip to reach behind, the shadow of it falling between his legs, and Castiel’s mouth went dry, watching the roll of Dean’s shoulder and hearing his sharp gasp as he penetrated himself with his own fingers. Cas let go of Dean’s dick, reaching to grip his thighs hard, and Dean’s head fell back with a low moan, hips rocking against his own hand, quads tensing back against Castiel’s fingertips.

“I’m ready.”

Dean’s whisper was breathless as his fingers slipped out, one hand planting on Castiel’s chest as his other found Cas’ dick and positioned it at his entrance. A pulse of worry flashed through Cas but as Dean rubbed against him, teasing his hole with the tip of Cas’ cock, Castiel felt something flex inside him, and Dean gasped again. Suddenly the friction was slick and sloppy instead of damp and teasing.

“How’d you-“ Dean’s question was strangled off in a moan when the head of Castiel’s dick slipped in easily, almost on accident, and neither could form a coherent thought as Dean gave in to gravity and lust, sliding down to sit flush against Cas’ lap.

Castiel gulped in great lungfuls of air, the tight warmth around his cock, sending shivers across his skin and pulses of want tugging in his balls as the lights flickered again. His hands closed over Dean’s hips, a grounding touch and Dean’s head tipped forward, pupils blown wide with lust. Castiel’s shoulder blades flexed against the mattress, the flutter of wings sounding around them as Dean’s palms flattened against Castiel’s chest. He leaned forward, brow crinkling as Cas slipped out of him slow before his expression melted into absolute bliss, head tipping back as he rolled his hips back, taking him in once again.

Cas watched, pleasure coursing through him while Dean concentrated on the feeling of it all, eyes closed as he began to rock steadily, settling into a grinding rhythm that searched for more. He found it after a moment, a shift of his weight, and suddenly his fingertips were pressing into Castiel’s skin hard enough to bruise, a guttural sound coming from Dean’s chest. His hips sped, lifting and lowering so that the slap of skin against skin harmonized with their labored breathing and heady moans.

Cas gathered Dean’s dick in his hand, feeling its weight before squeezing, reveling in the feeling of hot suede skin over rigid steel. Dean’s moans heightened to sharp whines, bouncing harder against Castiel’s lap. Castiel watched his face with laser focus, seeing how the swipe of his thumb against the head made all the muscles in Dean’s abs tense, and his ass clench down on him hard.

“Cas…” Dean gulped, wetting dry lips, his tone breathless and absolutely wrecked. “Cas… fuck you’re gonna make me come.”

Castiel suddenly wanted Nothing more, feeling his shoulders lift as his wings stretched, the lights blinking on and off as he tightened his grip, jerking harder while his other hand guided Dean’s hips to move faster. Dean’s fingers were curling into claws, the bite of his nails leaving half-moons in Cas’ skin, his belly tightening and releasing as the wave built higher. Castiel’s hand left Dean’s hip, fingers reaching, and when they grazed the stubble of Dean’s jaw, green eyes met blue, and suddenly Castiel’s pleasure was right there at the surface, ready to explode.

Dean came with a wail that lit Castiel’s orgasm on fire, his hips canting up to chase the clench of Dean’s ass as he came, thick and hot over Castiel’s hand. Castiel’s head dug back into the pillow, a deep moan rumbling from his chest as the bedside lamps blew, shattered glass echoed by the burst of the bulbs in the hall outside the room, one after the other.

Dean was still keening high in his throat, hands pawing weakly at Castiel’s chest, and Cas could feel Dean’s thighs trembling under his own weight. Castiel reached up again, fingers brushing a cheek, and Dean turned his head into the touch, lips brushing Castiel’s palm before it fell to land on Dean’s bicep.

A melodic yell shattered the fantasy into pieces, Castiel blinking hard and finding he had one hand still gripped around the Djinn Queen’s elbow as she held his. His other hand was gripped around Dean’s elbow and Dean’s around his. The Djinn Queen’s other arm held Dean as she held Castiel.

Why didn’t you say that you belonged to another?

The Djinn Queen’s voice rippled through Castiel’s consciousness, and he blinked up at her, instinctively curling away, but there was no malice in her words or her face, just a sad curiosity.

I don’t, my queen. Dean is… Castiel looked over at Dean, who was looking right back, face pale and eyes wide. Technically, we share a profound bond.”

Dean’s thoughts broke in. Technically nothin’ he saved me. In Hell, he found me and brought me home. A whisper of I need him and he’s mine chanted as an undercurrent, muffled but earnest as if trying to break the surface.

Castiel’s jaw clenched as his chest swelled, and he knew that if he’d had any grace left in his body, his wings would have flared with pride.

I release you from your contract.

Dean and Castiel collapsed into each other when the Djinn Queen released them both, heads knocking together hard. Dean cursed as Castiel winced, peering up at the queen. Surely it wasn’t that simple. Her lips tipped up, the golden tattoos on her face shimmering with her amusement.

I am not one to tamper with a soul bond.

“A what now?” Dean squinted, rubbing at his head as Castiel’s brow creased in confusion.

When I touched you both, your deepest desire was the same. Your dreamscape merged and… Castiel wasn’t sure if Djinns could blush, but the queen very much looked like she wanted to. …I’ve never seen two souls connect so seamlessly..

“I don’t have a soul.” Castiel’s head tipped to the side, eyes squinting.

“Lady, that was private,” Dean ground out through gritted teeth, and Castiel looked over to find his face tomato red, hand trembling where it held on to Cas’ elbow.

Of course. The queen inclined her head and returned her gaze to Castiel again. Your grace, then.” Her dark eyes narrowed, peering into his eyes. “Though, technically, there isn’t much left.

“Again with the ‘technically,’” Dean snorted under his breath and Castiel gave him a sharp look while the Queen frowned and ultimately decided to move on without comment.

I only ask that you allow myself and my people to leave here unscathed, and should I call upon you again in the future, you’ll lend me aid.

Castiel glanced at Dean, who gazed back, eyes tight with his mouth turned down. Dean didn’t like deals. Castiel pressed his lips together and turned his gaze back to the queen.

I find your terms agreeable.

Dead grumbled under his breath but Castiel gave his elbow a squeeze and he silenced. The queen smiled softly, and Castiel found himself smiling back. She really was very lovely. You’re free to go. She nodded her head towards the entrance, and Castiel watched as the crowd parted, leaving the way to the mouth of the cave clear.

Dean and Castiel leaned against each other to get to their feet, each giving a respectful nod of their head to the Djinn Queen before turning to step down from the dais on wobbly legs. Sam stood off to the side, looking awkward and a little confused, but one sharp look from Dean had him scurrying over, falling into step behind them as they walked slowly towards freedom, the eyes of the other Djinn weighing heavy on them until they stepped into the twilight chill.

The sun was nearly gone, and Castiel shivered hard, feet sinking into white sand. Sam shucked out of his flannel and draped it around Cas’ shoulders, the hem hanging just far enough to make him decent. They were silent on the nearly two-mile trek back to the car. Sam falling back behind the other two under the guise of protecting their backs but really more of an effort to give them space. Neither seemed to notice that they were still attached to each other, hands clasped at elbows, wrist to wrist, forearms aligned even as they struggled across the sand.

Dean gave a sharp whistle as they approached the car, and Sam looked up, hand raising on instinct to catch the keys as they sailed over to him. Dean opened the back passenger door, helping Cas into the backseat while Sam grabbed some old army blankets from the trunk. Dean laid the blanket across half the seat and encouraged Cas to move onto it before spreading it across the other half as well. Sam was surprised when Dean crawled in after him.

“Sammy get the door.”

Sam did as he was bid, shaking his head as he rounded the car to climb into the driver’s seat. He made a show of adjusting the mirrors to watch his brother help Cas thread his arms through the flannel around his shoulders before shucking out of his own and draping it across Cas’ chest. Castiel’s head dipped, nose burying in the collar while Dean was distracted by shaking out another blanket, tossing it around him, bundling him up before wrapping a protective arm around his shoulder.

“You warm enough?” Dean’s low murmur was more vibration than sound, and Castiel nodded though his teeth still chattered. Dean pulled him closer, tucking his head against his neck and Castiel’s eyes closed, muscles unfurling for the first time in what felt like weeks as he slumped into the warmth of Dean’s body.

“Thank you, Dean.” Castiel’s nose brushed Dean’s pulse point.

Dean adjusted his neck so that his chin rested atop Castiel’s head as he let his body slide sideways to wedge himself in the corner where the seatback met the door, knees spreading wide. In one sinuous motion, Dean guided Cas to turn, shifting his body across his lap so that his hips rested between Dean’s thighs and he was able to curl completely into Dean’s chest, Dean’s arms circling him completely in a bearhug bundle that made Sam feel like he was intruding on something intimate. He cleared his throat as he fired up the engine.

They were quiet as the Impala trundled through the sand, Dean’s jaw resting against Cas’ temple, eyes staring unseeing out the window at the sand that almost looked like it was glowing in the moonlight. Castiel, relaxed but awake, focused on the kick drum of Dean’s heartbeat and the novelty of being held.

They were halfway to Carlsbad when Dean finally spoke. “Sam.”

“Yeah?”

“What… what was the ritual again? The…” Dean gestured, and Sam tucked his chin down, eyes returning to the road.

“Uh, well the consort is cleansed and adorned by the elders…”

Dean looked down, and Cas turned his face up to him, the lights of passing cars making the golden patterns on his face shimmer. Dean’s lips twitched. “Check.”

“Then the queen comes in with her maids and accepts the consort’s offering, which if he’s…er… it’s a species they can feed on, that’s usually the offering.” Sam shifted in his seat.

“And that’s it?” Dean’s eyes were narrowed in the rearview, and Sam pressed his lips together.

“Then the queen enters the consort’s dreamscape to assess his deepest desire and if she’s satisfied with what she finds, she allows him to enter hers and when they resurface they’re married.”

Sam winced, feeling his shoulders bunch up, chancing a look in the rearview again and found Cas’ face contorted in puzzlement and Dean’s brows drawn down, lips puckered in thought. Cas’ head lifted, gazing up at Dean.

“Dean…”

“Yeah.” Dean’s tone was an agreement, not a question. Sam’s eyes narrowed.

“I think-“

“Technically speaking, I think you’re right.”

Castiel tucked his head back under Dean’s chin. “Do you want-”

“Yeah. Hey Sam?”

Sam’s voice was cautious. “Yes?”

“Hang a left at Albuquerque will you?”

Sam’s head whipped to look over his shoulder. “Wha- Why?”

Dean sighed, and a smile tugged at Castiel’s lips as he burrowed deeper into Dean’s chest. “Because if I’m technically already married I might as well hit up the Little White Chapel and make it legal. Vegas is, what? 12 hours from here?”

Sam glanced at them in the rearview grinning. “Technically? About 12 and a half”

Dean flipped him off before he settled further back into the seat, tucking his nose into Castiel’s hair, and both allowed themselves to fall asleep to the sound of tires on the highway and the steady beat of their hearts.

#suptober20 #suptober #destiel #deancas #fanfic: supernatural #writing by me

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peachymhaechan · 5 years

Text

“You have to do better than that, darling.”

Genre: angst to fluff, street racer! au

Warnings: language, drinking, smoking, and I have a very limited knowledge of cars lol pls don’t come for me in the replies

Pairing: lee jeno x reader

Summary: Lee Jeno was one of the best (if not the best) street racers in Seoul. All of that changes when a new racer joins the scene, that racer going by the name Y/N. Will Jeno be able to hold onto his title, or will newcomer and naturally talented Y/N dethrone him?

Author’s Note: hey y’all, I've been dying to write this for a while now, so here ya go. school is finally out so at this point all i’m doing is getting ready for tsa nationals (if u know what that is, you’re a real one lol) and working, so I have a lot more time on my hands to write stuff!! if you want something specific, just send a request or something!!

Fog curled around your vision, making it difficult to navigate the back streets of Seoul you had only ventured through a few times before. Factor in that it was well after eleven pm, and the whole thing seemed even more daunting. Rain gently fell down and ran into your eyes, and you hoped it would stop soon. After all, rain would have put a damper on your big splash into the new street racing scene.

Music playing from the speakers in your Mazda MX 5 Miata, you quietly rolled through the streets until eventually, you found it. You knew you reached your destination when there was more and more chatter from excited people who, albeit, were shady looking.

And as much as you hated to admit it, you were shady looking, too.

There was no denying that fact, seeing as you relied on illegal street racing to stay afloat.

Having been in only one race beforehand, you were still new to this whole racing thing. Most people would have called you insane if they knew you went to Seoul for your second race. Even if you won your first race, no logical person would head all the way to Seoul for their second, no matter how big the first race was.

Pedestrians moved out of the way, pointing and whispering as you drove past. They had heard rumors that a new racer would be there tonight, which definitely helped raise attendance and betting. Hey, that means either more money to get and people to impress, or more money to not get and people to embarrass yourself in front of.

You drove to the finish line, front tires behind it and turned your music off. Leaving the car on and in park, you got out and tried to find whoever was in charge there. To your understanding, it changed every night, but some of your friends from the races in Busan had told you that you should look for a man named Taeyong, or a younger guy named Mark. Apparently, Taeyong had pink hair and Mark had black hair, and neither of those pieces of information helped you much, because everyone there had outrageously dyed or black hair. Great.

You must have seemed lost, because a group of boys your age approached you. “Hey, you new here?” the tallest one asked, with a quirked brow and boys following him. Don’t let them see that you’re nervous. Head held high, chin up, shoulders rolled back. Just because this place is unfamiliar doesn’t mean it should be scary, a race is a race no matter what, you thought.

Looking up at the boy and staring him directly in the eyes, you said, “Yes, I am. My name is Y/N and I’m looking for either Mark Lee or Lee Taeyong. Do you know where I can find them?” Crossing your arms over your jacket clad chest, you stared down the group of guys in front of you. The tallest had a head of blond hair, the kid right next to him had bright pink hair, making him seem younger than he actually was. There was a boy with raven locks who gave you one hell of a death glare, right by a boy exuding confidence and charm with peach hair. He gave you a wink as your eyes rolled to the one with sun kissed skin and highlights of pinks, greens, and much more in his delicately styled hair.

Finally, your eyes landed on the last boy there, and everything about him screamed cockiness. He looked like he was at ease, at home, there, and it made him comfortable. So comfortable, in fact, that he could get away with anything. And if that meant picking up what he called die hard fans every night for a good time, then so be it, that’s what he was going to do. His lean figure towered over you, staring you down, and it dawned on you that you’d be racing against him. Immediately, the list of names your friends in Busan gave you of the top racers in Seoul ran through your mind: Na Jaemin, Huang Renjun, Lee Haechan, Kim Doyoung, Wong Yukhei, Johnny Seo, Nakamoto Yuta, and Lee Jeno. Most importantly, Lee Jeno, seeing as he was practically the reigning champion, having lost only two races out of all twenty eight he had been in during his tenure. And, it became even more intimidating when you recalled that he was your age.

You knew right away that that was Lee Jeno.

“Ah, Mark hyung is over that way, if you’ll follow me. I’m Jisung, by the way,” the tall boy told you, finally giving you a name to pair with his face. The rest of the boys stayed behind, whispering and shooting you glances as you walked away.

“Yo, Mark!” Jisung exclaimed as you two approached a young guy with black hair and ink curling around underneath his skin. Despite his stereotypical intimidating nature, his eyes lit up and a huge grin broke out on his face at the sight of Jisung, and that scary façade fell away at once. He caught sight of you, and asked, “Are you the flag girl for tonight?”

You tried to not be insulted, but you couldn’t help but to lace venom in your voice as you responded, “No, I’m not. I’m Y/N, I will be racing tonight.” Mark broke out into an even bigger grin and asked, “So you’re Jeno’s competition for the night?” Obviously confused because each race had at the minimum of three racers, Mark took note of your raised brow and said, “Wong Yukhei will be competing tonight, too, but he isn’t any competition for Jeno. Make sure to kick Jeno’s ass, Lord knows the kid needs it.”

“Don’t worry, I was planning on it. Otherwise I wouldn't be here.”

“YOOOOO, I like her, man!” Mark exclaimed, clapping and hitting Jisung’s arm, who stood there laughing. They both stood there for two minutes just cackling. When Mark composed himself after a bit, he said, “Alright, let’s get down to the business part of this, I need all the information on your past races, your car, all that jazz that you can give me. For starters, what kind of car do you have?”

“A black Mazda MX 5 Miata.”

“Oooooh, dope, dude! Where are you from and where have you previously raced?”

“Busan.”

“Okay, and how many races were you in there?”

Gulping, you said, “One.”

Silence. Mark and Jisung took a step back in confusion and Mark repeated the question to make sure he heard you correctly. “One. One race,” you repeated, confirming what he thought he heard.

“Okay.... and how did you place?”

“First, with the second place competitor reaching the finish line twenty minutes after me.”

“Holy shit, okay. How old are you?”

“Eighteen.”

“Not to go all mom on you, but are you sure you should be doing something so dangerous this young?” Mark asked, writing everything down with a concerned look on his face.

“It’s either this or deal with my family, and I refuse to go back to them. I’d rather you act like my mom than my actual mother,” you told him, making him raise a brow in response. “Fair enough. I don’t know you, but I feel that one,” Mark said, finishing everything up.

“Okay, I have everything I need. The race starts in about half an hour, park your car right next to that red Toyota Supra, and get ready. Oh, and good luck!” With that, Mark waved you two goodbye, and ran off to one of the boys you saw earlier, yelling, “RENJUN! TELL THIS TO THE BETTERS!”

“So, only one race, huh?” Jisung asked, falling into step with you as you walked to your car. “Yep, only one,” you told him, already preparing for the same dialogue you had with yourself.

“Why did you decide to come here if you’ve only been in the Busan races? Well, race, really.” Jisung kicked a rock by his feet, looking down at you and occasionally waving to people as you guys walked by. “Well, I don’t know if you’ve been to the Busan races, but they’re surprisingly large. Your race here has a minimum of three racers and rarely get more than that because the route is so intimidating. In Busan, there is a minimum of fifteen racers because the track is moderate, so the people in charge rely on the high amount of competitors to make it difficult. The route in Busan normally takes forty minutes, it took me twenty. Driving is easy for me, it has been ever since I started. I figured why not come out here and at least try, you know? Even if I lose tonight, at least I know what to expect when I eventually come back.”

Jisung absorbed your words, and instead of calling you stupid like you thought he would, he said, “That’s pretty smart, Y/N.” A small smile made its way onto your face and you replied, “Thank you. You’re the first person in a long time to say that.”

Jisung looked like he wanted to push the topic, but decided it’d be better to just drop it and wish you luck. “Good luck tonight. Oh, I agree with what Mark said earlier, too; kick some ass.” He turned on his heel and left, giving you the opportunity to relax some before the race started. Instinctively, you pulled out the pack of cigarettes in the glovebox and placed one between your teeth, lighting it and puffing out curling smoke. Your phone provided a much needed distraction and you were so lost in your own little world that you didn’t notice the person standing in front of you until the cigarette was taken out of your mouth and put in his.

Taking a drag, Lee Jeno looked down at you from between his dark lashes, and stared you down for a bit. “Take a picture if you like the view that much,” you quipped, his behavior annoying the shit out of you. You were hoping that line would frustrate him, but all it did was get him started. A small smirk went on his face and you knew you were in for it.

“You know, I came over here to wish you luck because you’ll need it, but I think I’m going to take it back,” he explained, smirking an infuriating smirk. “Oh, what a shame. Maybe I should be wishing you luck instead. After all, I am a nobody. Who knows what I am capable of doing?” You knew you got him there, so you took your cigarette back and held eye contact with him while waiting for a response.

His tongue poked his cheek out and he chuckled, looking at you and then the ground, back at you again. “You sure do seem confident for someone I’ve never heard of.” That put a smile on your face, simply saying, “Trust me, you’ll hear of me after tonight.” You took the cigarette out of your mouth and stepped on the butt, smearing the wet ground with ash.

“Good luck, Jeno,” you said as you opened your car door and got in, finding a playlist for the ride. Deciding on a song by Childish Gambino, you rolled your neck and tried to focus. Two minutes later, a new car pulled up to you on your right and presumably Wong Yukhei got out of the drivers side. The white Toyota 86 blasted Jay Park, and Wong Yukhei strutted over to your passenger seat. He opened the door and slid into the seat.

“Hey, I’m Yukhei, or Lucas,” he greeted, flashing a goofy grin, not paying any mind to the ridiculousness of the situation. He held out a large hand for you to shake, head bobbing slightly to the music leaving your speakers. “Um, hi. I’m Y/N,” you said, shaking his hand.

“Y/N? I don’t think I’ve ever heard of you. You race before?” he asked, stretching in his seat and putting his hands behind his head on the headrest. “Only once before, in Busan.” He stopped relaxing and jumped, then turned to look at you. Lucas’s jaw dropped, looking almost comical.

“Once? You’re serious?” he scanned your face, then said, “Oh my God, you’re serious. Oh, well. We all have to start somewhere, right? But why Seoul if you were already in Busan?”

“Had to get away from my family. They weren’t very fond of my career choices, friend choices, or any choices, really, so I had to get out of there. I bought this car with the last of the money mommy and daddy promised me, went to the race in Busan, took the winning money, and dipped. Now... I’m here,” you told him, his eyes lighting up due to having a similar background.

“Mommy and daddy’s money? Damn, what did your parents do?” Genuine curiosity latent through his voice, he wanted to know you more.

“They, um.... they own one of the biggest chains of business corporations in the country and United States.” Something that you had hated ever since being a small child, your parents felt the need flaunt their wealth at any given moment. A part of you understood that yes, they had earned that money and that privilege, but they never made any attempts to help those less fortunate than them. You, on the other hand, would take your monthly allowance and donate it to the homeless shelters nearby, and when your parents found out, it angered them to no end. So, yeah, you held no remorse for leaving your parents as soon as you could.

“Holy shit, so you’re rich rich,” Lucas said, a bit taken aback considering your appearance and attitude. Sporting ripped jeans, beat up boots, and a leather jacket, you were hardly what he imagined new money looked like. Factor in your over-all-this-bullshit and straight to the point attitude, you didn't act like how he imagined new money to act, either. Chuckling, you corrected him by saying, “My parents are rich rich. I’m not my parents, nor will I ever be.”

“Fuck, I should get back to my car, the race is about to start. It was nice getting to know you, princess! Oh, and one more thing: don’t ride Jeno’s ass, he can and will slam on the brakes to make you rear end him.” After that he got out of the car, leaving you a bit confused as to why he gave you advice when you both were in a competition. Shaking your head to clear your thoughts, you put all your energy into focusing on the task at hand: winning the race. Out of the corner of your eyes, you spotted Jeno ducking into the drivers side of his car and blowing kisses at a crowd of girls gathered by the side of the road to watch him and Yukhei. Gross. They have fan clubs.

You could feel Jeno looking at you, so you turned to look at him with a what-the-fuck-could-you-possibly-want? look. Smirking, he revved his engine, annoying the shit out of you. You rolled your eyes and turned your attention to the girl confidently walking out into the middle of the road, checkered flags in her hands and smile on her face. At least the flag girl seemed excited. Adrenaline taking hold, anxiety furling in the pits of your stomach, you took a deep breath and watched the flag girl like a hawk. She made sure she was standing between the cars, then raised the flags in a big arc, and lowered them promptly. From then on, it was like you were on autopilot.

Jeno, as expected, took the lead, with you behind him but a bit to the left, and Yukhei directly next to you. Vaguely, you could her the cheers of everyone watching, the girls crying out a mix of Jeno and Yukhei. Paying no mind to it, the music filled your ears, a melody by Cyndi Lauper allowing you to focus on the road in front of you. A T in the road quickly approached, and you called upon all the studying of the Seoul map you did just a few days ago.

Before you left your hometown, your racing friends had helped prepare you for the confusing streets of the racing route in Seoul. You studied that thing with their help for days on end, and by the time you left, it was committed to memory. And thank God it was, because Jeno was an expert, with Yukhei being a close second at having it memorized. You knew that at the T, if you took the right you would be able to reach a short cut and that would give you an edge at getting Yukhei off your tail, and maybe even getting ahead of Jeno.

As expected, Jeno made the right turn and Yukhei made the left. You felt bad, but you knew that Yukhei was pretty good at what he did, but he had never been especially daring when it came to taking risks. Jeno, on the other hand, did not care. His whole being exuded not giving a flying fuck, and God did you wish you could be like that. Tonight’s race, however, would determine whether you could live in Seoul and be away from your parents, or have to move back to Busan and keep on the move to prevent them from dragging you back home.

Grinning slightly, Yukhei left your lane and you were left directly following Jeno. Don’t ride Jeno’s ass, he can and will slam on the brakes to make you rear end him. Taking Yukhei’s advice, you made sure to stick close to him but not too close. Close enough that you could see his eyes flicking to the rear view mirror, you decided that it was time to drive next to him. Pushing the gas down, you made sure that the move would be made quick enough that you wouldn’t hit any of the trash cans on the side of the alley and none of the stray cats would get ran over. Successfully, you drove up beside him and were concentrated on everything around you. The alley opened up into a four way intersection, and you knew to make the left. You already knew Jeno would choose the left, so all you could do is rely on drifting to get you there quicker and put you ahead of the boy. Thankfully, when you were learning to drive a few years ago from one of your friends, he had taken you to an old run down part of town and taught you how to drift. Never did you think that skill would come in handy.

Feeling your muscles come into play as you drifted, you scanned the rear view mirror and found Jeno in complete shock. He mouthed, “FUCK!” right as another car cut him off from pulling out behind you, making you smirk. Your tires left marks on the ground as you peeled it out of there, taking that opportunity that was given to you by Yukhei making the wrong turn but eventually catching up with you two. Yukhei realized what he did and laughed at the expression of the boy in the car behind him.

“Thanks, Yukhei!” you yelled out your window, hoping he’d hear but knowing he wouldn’t. With you in the lead, you made the next shortcut you could, opting to drive straight ahead rather than turning right. The dangerous part of shortcuts, you had found, was that there was no guarantee of no other drivers on those roads. On the main route there were hardly ever any other drivers, something you greatly enjoyed. However, on the shortcuts, you an the risk of hitting pedestrians, or even worse; cops knew when the races were happening sometimes, and seeing as the whole activity was illegal, they’d be waiting for the racers to slip up. You, though, knew to be careful and not risk too much.

Yukhei and Jeno followed you that time, the two of them fighting to be directly after you. You rolled your eyes at their childishness and kept focused on the road ahead of you. Crowds of people congregated on the sides of the outskirt streets and cheered you on, shock plain on their faces at seeing something other than Jeno’s car in first place.

There were only three turns left in the race, and then it’d all be over. Right as you were calculating your next move, Jeno swerved in front of you. Smiling into the rear view, he really thought he had done something. He took the next left, you right on his heels. Don't ride his ass. Don’t ride his ass. Throwing that out the window, that is exactly what you did, and it proved especially helpful, as you were able to drift around him and out of the next turn while he slammed on his brakes. One more turn and you had it in the bag. Jeno hesitated starting to drive again as he had been so shocked at what just happened that Yukhei got in front of him again. Easily, you made the next left and found yourself at the finish line, a small smile on your face.

“You have to do better than that, darling,” you mumbled to yourself, and partly to a Jeno, who could not hear you.

Your front tires went over the finish line first, with Yukhei and Jeno at a close tie following you. Off to the side of the street you saw Mark, Jisung, and all the other boys standing there, jaws to the floor in shock. Slowly, you parked the car and right as you were about to get out, you felt someone open the car door for you.

You found yourself looking up at Wong Yukhei, who held a hand out for you. “I’m thoroughly impressed, and also kind of thankful,” he told you, giving you a huge grin and patting you on the back. “Thanks? Why though?” you asked, obviously confused. Yukhei guided you over to a floored Mark, who had wads of cash in his hands.

“Because, silly,” Yukhei started as he winked at the crowd of fans trying desperately to get his attention, “you managed to fuck over Jeno and get me in second place. Well, kind of.”

“I’d say fucking over Jeno was a joint effort,” you told him, taking the money from Mark. “I wasn’t expecting that, Y/N,” Mark said, still in shock. The boys from earlier encircled you, asking a million questions at once.

“HOW DID YOU DO IT?” “HOW DID YOU KNOW THE ROUTE SO WELL?” “HOW DO YOU KNOW HOW TO DRIFT?” “HOW IS THAT YOUR SECOND RACE EVER?” “CAN YOU TEACH ME?”

“Holy fuck, give her some space,” a familiar voice said, making the boys all take a step back. Jeno walked into the middle of their little circle and looked directly at you. “Can I speak to you for a minute?” he asked, taking your hand and dragging you away from them before you could answer. Taking your hand back, you huffed and shoved the money in your jacket pockets, still following the boy.

“I guess I just wanted to say... congratulations on winning tonight,” Jeno muttered, leaning against the side of your car and admiring how clean it was. “Um. Thanks? You’re not... mad at me or anything?” you asked in disbelief. “Oh, I am a little mad, but not at you, exactly. More so, I’m mad that someone as inexperienced as you beat me in my own realm. How did you know the route so well, by the way?”

Chuckling, you rubbed the back of your neck and said, “Well, funny story, actually. I studied a map of Seoul for days to commit the track to memory.”

“And the drifting?”

“One of the first things I learned how to do when driving.”

He took a step back, then stared at you with an unknown look in his eyes. “Who are you?”

Smirking, you recalled what you said earlier that night.

“I told you you’d know of me after tonight.”

[Time Skip]

“I can’t believe it,” Renjun said, pulling you out of your trance. “This is the fourth time this week!” You stepped out of your Mazda, grinning and giving him the what-else-did-you-expect? look. He shook his head in shock and handed you your money, a whopping amount of bills and enough to support you for two months, at least. It had been a few weeks since the first race you had been in in Seoul, and to say that you were a regular there would be an understatement. You had earned regular betters, people that could only be referred to as fans.

“Neither can I, Renjun, but it happened,” you told the boy, giving him a smile and a pat on the back. “Meet up at mine?” you asked he boy, hoping for your group of friends to come over after. Well, the closest thing you had to friends in Seoul. That group consisted of Renjun, Jaemin, Chenle, Jisung, Mark, Lucas, and Jeno, mainly because they were all in your age range, although occasionally some of the older boys would come over. Jeno, despite being your age, didn’t come over as much. You wrote it off as him being your biggest competitor, but the others claimed it was something else.

“Dude, he has the biggest crush on you,” Mark told you one evening, messily eating nachos you made in the kitchen of your tiny apartment. The earnings from the races were enough to keep you afloat and still have some pocket change. “No way. He always seems so cold when I’m around, I think it’s the opposite, really,” you told the Canadian boy, earning groans from everyone else. “Y/N, you’re a dumb thot,” Jaemin called out from the living room couch, causing you to roll your eyes. “Whatever.”

Renjun and the others agreed to meet you at your place in an hour, as they had to finish some things up at the race. Giddily driving to your humble abode, you noticed a familiar car in your rear view mirror. Jeno?

After parking outside of your building, you got out of the car and walked over to what appeared to be Jeno’s car.

“I didn’t mean for that to be creepy, just an fyi,” the boy started, getting out of his car to stand next to you, who had been incredibly confused about the entire situation. “Alright, noted. But why did you follow me home? I didn’t even know you were there tonight,” you told him, nothing making any sense. Jeno had stopped racing as frequently after you arrived, as you kept messing up his statistics. Kind of hard to be the best driver in Seoul when he had some legitimate competition.

“I uh, I need to talk to you about something before the boys get here,” he explained, rubbing the back of his neck and avoiding eye contact. “Can I come inside?” he asked, gesturing to the apartment building behind you. “Oh yeah, of course, Jeno. You’re always welcome at my place,” you told the boy, turning on your heels and heading up the stairs to your place. Your tiny apartment was a one bed, one bath small little startup on the fifth floor of an old building, with most of your neighbors being elderly or young college students trying to avoid living in dorms. That was okay with you, though, as you were rarely home.

“Can I get you anything to eat or drink?” you asked as soon as you two got in, trying to break the awkward silence. Jeno shook his head and made himself at home, plopping down on the couch and turning the television on.

“So, what did you want to talk about?” you asked, taking your jacket off and pulling him out of his zone. “Oh shit, that’s right. Two things, really,” he clarified, making you even more confused.

“Okay, shoot. You may have the floor,” you joked, allowing him to take the reigns on the conversation. “Okay. First things first, I would like it if you stopped racing as much.”

You didn’t know what to say, other than, “What?”

“You are ruining my reputation, and not that many people are betting on me anymore.”

“Woah, I do what? You still win against me sometimes!”

“That might be true, but you win more often than I do. Do you realize that I wan the number one racer here before you showed up?”

“Okay, and? Not my fault.”

“Y/N, you’re dragging me down-”

“I’m not though, you’re sinking just like everyone else did when you first started.”

Right as you said that, the door opened and the rest of your guests arrived, arms full of junk food to snack on. “Uh.” They all could sense the obvious air of tension the second they walked in the room, and felt the aura crackling with annoyance. “Hey, guys,” you and Jeno said at the same time, voices both monotone and not very amused.

“Are you two okay?” Jisung asked, not even bothering to try and beat around the bush. Leave it to the youngest to not give a fuck. “Yes, we are... fine, we are fine.”

“If you say so,” Chenle says, grabbing one of the bags of chips and flopping down on the couch. Jaemin grabbed a can of beer from your fridge and hopped onto the couch. He grabbed your wrist and pulled you down, so you were laying across his lap, legs over Chenle. “Yooo, what the fuck?” Chenle complained, throwing your legs off him and standing up. “Jaemin, what are you doing?” you questioned, annoyed at his antics.

“Taking your mind off things, sweetheart.” Scoffing, you stood up, shoving him away. “You’re such an idiot, Jaems.” “An idiot for you, honeybun.” “Gross,” you laughed, smacking his chest. “What do you mean gross? You didn’t say that last night-”

“I’m going to go, something came up,” Jeno suddenly announced, distracting everyone from the disaster that was Jaemin fake flirting with you. “Here, let me walk you out at least,” you mumbled, only for Jeno to shake his head. “No, it’s fine, you don’t have to.”

Regardless, you followed him out and left the boys to bicker and choose something to watch (a terrible idea, never trust those few to pick a movie for movie night, it’ll only end in tragedy). “I said you didn’t have to do this,” Jeno said, not even looking back at you following him. “I’m aware. I don’t care, I don’t like how that conversation ended and even if we didn’t fight, you’re still a guest at my house and I want to see that you made it to your car okay.”

Rather than saying to fuck off or something, he kept his mouth shut and kept walking. “I feel like we should resolve that argument we had,” you started, grabbing his wrist and turning him around so you knew he was listening to you. Jeno didn’t push your hand off him as he stood there, waiting for you to speak. “Okay, then you get to speak first.” His voice was cold, but there was a tone of openness. For some reason, no matter how much you two butted heads, you would always be civil with one another. Your dumbass wrote it off as not wanting things to be awkward around the others, even though you were told it was due to other reasons.

“I cannot stop racing as much, Jeno, simply because you told me to, because it is tarnishing your reputation. You know as well as I do that that money is far too tempting to just give up,” you explained as you two exited the apartment building and were almost at his car. Jeno took the keys out and unlocked his car, the beep echoing through the little parking lot for the building.

“Why can’t you give it up though? It seems like to me that you’re not even spending all of your money, so if you can obviously budget yourself to not need it, why get it in the first place?” At that point he was just nitpicking, looking for anything to piss you off.

“Jeno, do you realize how ridiculous you sound right now? I put that money in my savings account, and use it to pay my bills. You know why I’m here, and you know that I’ve been cut off from my parents. If I am going to survive, then I need that money. And I know that you need that money, too, but at the end of the day, there is a solid chance that either one of us wins. And you know that I have only ever been supportive of you when you win, when it seems like I’m good at nothing and even this one thing I’m relying on to survive isn’t doing that great.”

He didn’t exactly know what to say to that, so he stood there, leaning against his car and crossing his arms over his chest. However, you didn’t expect him to apologize. “I’m sorry, I just.... I haven’t been thinking right. You’re right... I shouldn’t be expecting you to just give up your way of living.”

“I... It’s okay, Jeno.”

He shifted his weight forward and leaned toward you, pulling you into his chest and holding you close. Your eyes instinctively widened, hands down at your side, not knowing what to do in response to his sudden actions. After a few seconds, you melted into the warmth of his body, the feeling of his hand caressing the back of your head soothing. Automatically, your eyes shut and your arms wrapped themselves around Jeno, not controlling your own actions.

All too soon he let go, taking a step back and not making eye contact. Jeno’s cheeks were dusted with pink, shocked at his own actions. “Good night, Y/N. Sorry if that was weird,” Jeno whispered, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck and kicking a rock on the ground. Still in shock, you said nothing and instead focused on that rock and tried to hide the blush on your cheeks. Jeno got in his car and gave you a small wave before driving away, never telling you what that thing that popped up was. All you could do was stand there and give him a tight-lipped smile, your racing heart screaming at you to say something, anything, to the beautiful boy who had been stuck in your head since you arrived in Seoul. He was the one constant, an admittedly frustrating constant, but a constant nonetheless. The boy knew exactly how to pull on your heartstrings without trying, and you hoped that maybe - just maybe - you did the same to him.

Little did you know, you did.

You did it so much that it pained him to think about, sometimes.

[Time skip]

Rain was pouring down again, meaning that normally there wouldn’t have been as many people waiting to hear the roar of the car engines, smell the intoxicating exhaust, and get an adrenaline rush from the high speed chase of the races. However, seeing as it was the last race of the week (and the next few weeks), hundreds of people lined up to watch it all go down. Of course, Jeno had his fan club, Lucas had his, Yuta had his, and you had your won. Nobody, it appeared to you, was as popular as Jeno, though. Like always, he strolled over to the barricade and started “talking” to a group of girls. You knew what “talking” meant by then. That meant that Jeno would end up in her pants by the end of the night, only to be gone by the morning and never speak to her again. It happened time and time again, and as much as he made your heart race, you could never put yourself through something as emotionally taxing as that. Right?

Stop thinking like that. It took everything in you to keep a level head when unsurprisingly, again, Jeno sauntered over to a dyed-blonde with bright pink lipstick and started doing what he did best: stealing hearts. “Hey, baby,” you heard him say all the way from over there. Rolling your eyes and scoffing, you threw the cigarette butt on the ground and focused on someone else, someone else who would make you happy and still make your heart beat. Not as fast as Jeno could. For some reason, that boy had a strong hold on you, one you’d never get out of.

“Peaches, what are you thinking about?” Lucas curiously asked, wanting more than anything to know what was running though your head at that moment. “How you’re going to eat ass and lose to me again tonight,” you playfully told him, warming up instantly at the boy in front of you. Ever since you moved to Seoul, Lucas had taken a special interest in you and had gotten increasingly closer. Any outsider could see that the gentle giant was smitten, but you simply did not care. Part of you wanted to get lost in his chestnut eyes, forget your worries in his touch, but the other part of you knew better. Not only was it damaging to play with hearts like that, but it was also stupid. Yet there Jeno was, doing it without any problems.

Jeno again. Stop thinking about Jeno. “Xuxi?” you asked, knowing fully damn well that Yukhei loved it when you called him that. “Yes, Y/N?” His fingers delicately played with yours, trying to memorize the shape of your small hand in his large one. “Do you ever get jealous?” That was quite the loaded question, so Yukhei had to take a step back to think.

“What do you mean? Do you mean like when people ask for your number, or when you stare at Jeno?” That question was enough to send ice through your bloodstream. So, Yukhei knew. It didn’t look like he particularly cared, though, which had been the scariest thing about it all. “I- Yes, then.”

“In all honesty? I don’t get jealous, but it does hurt a little. I know I don’t have your heart, though, and that’s okay. Your heart belongs to you, and you only.” “You’re right, and that means I can’t keep stringing you along like this...” Lucas gave you a small smile, pain in his eyes right alongside knowing. “Y/N, I’d let you hurt me anytime, any day. My heart is yours to break, but... yours is not mine. Go talk to him.”

Kissing the boy’s cheek, you decided to say fuck it and follow his advice. Why you were doing that, you had absolutely no idea, because you two could barely make it through a conversation without arguing. But there you were, marching right up to the boy to get his attention and speak your mind.

“Lee Jeno, we need to talk,” you told him, a commanding tone in your voice. The tone of your voice pulled Jeno away from the random girl, his cheeks flushed at your sudden presence. The girl scoffed in annoyance, sending him a who-the-fuck-is-that? face, only for him to wave her off, dismissing her from his life entirely.

“Well?”

“I think I like you.”

A beat of silence, and then, “You think?”

“No, I know. I know I like you. I don’t know why, because all we ever do is fight, and I haven’t known you for that long, but I-”

A pair of plump lips cut you off, silencing your rambling with a soft kiss. Your first kiss with Jeno had been everything you had dreamt of and more; his soft lips crashed on yours, taking your breath away and breathing air into your lungs at the same time. He grabbed your waist and pulled you in closer, gently cupping the sides of your face and holding you there, making you feel like the most precious thing on the planet. And to him, you truly were.

“I like you too, dumbass,” he mumbled against your lips after finally pulling away, resting his forehead on yours. The feeling of him was foreign, but felt so familiar, as if you were meant to fit together.

A smile made its way on your face, and stayed there until the flash of a camera pulled you two away from one another. “What the fuck?” Jeno murmured, holding you close to him, his head atop yours. Mark and Renjun stood there with shit eating grins, Renjun with his phone out, snapping a picture. “It’s about time!” Mark exclaimed, getting the attention of the other boys. “This,” Renjun said, showing you the image he snapped of the both of you awfully close to each other, “is my evidence for my side of the bet.”

“Bet?” you asked, confused as to why Renjun needed evidence of you kissing Jeno, and Jisung and Chenle groaning in the back and pulling out their wallets. “We all placed bets for when you guys would finally kiss. I called four months, and they all put money on six to twelve months. I should be getting.... a shit ton of money,” Renjun explained, a smug grin pulling his lips up. The boys started forking off cash to him, and all you could do was stand there in disbelief.

“Anyways, if you don’t mind us, we are going to go race now,” Jeno announced, pulling you away with him. The boys all hollered behind you, laughing and being how they normally were: loud and obnoxious, but sweethearts all the same. The announcers got in place, all the betters taking their seats and fans standing up and waving signs. Well, the race was about to start. You made eye contact with Yukhei, who winked and gave you a thumbs up, then got in his car.

“Well, this is it. Wish me luck, baby,” Jeno said, looking down at you and kissing your temple as you two reached his car. Smirking, you started to chuckle and played with his fingers in yours.

“Oh, you’re going to need it, honey.”

“Is that a threat?”

“Not a threat, a promise.”

“You know what? How about this: if I win, I take you out on a date. If you win, then...”

“If I win, then we still can go out on a date, I’ll just keep tonight’s money and clown your shitty driving the whole time.”

“Wow, that’s so tempting, you drive a hard bargain, Y/N.”

“You know you like it, though.”

“You’re right. It’s a deal.”

Needless to say, Jeno was not a fan of being the butt of the endless jokes the next day, but he certainly was a fan of hearing the chiming of your laughter and the pure joy spread across your face as you poked fun of him.

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