#burn so slow neither of them knew it was on fire | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

dvrk-moon · 1 month ago

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LOVE ME NOT - YANG JUNGWON

— synopsis: fake dating your enemy, yang jungwon, for the sake of getting your mutual friends to stop playing matchmaker is the worst idea you’ve ever heard in your life. however, it’s a bit more enticing when $100 is thrown in the mix.

— word count: 21k

— warnings: cursing, suggestive jokes, stupid teenager activities, classism

— featuring: ive wonyoung, bnd taesan, zb1 gyuvin, nwjns minji, + more 04 liner idols

— genre: enemies-to-lovers, fake dating, SLOW burn, jungwon x fem!reader, private high school au

— playlist: kiss with a fist - florence + the machine, r u mine - arctic monkeys, the way i loved you - taylor swift, you get me so high - arctic monkeys, norman fucking rockwell - lana del rey, make up your mind - florence + the machine (feat. fire burning - sean kingston, come on eileen - dexy’s midnight runners for part 17)

— a/n: lowkey so relieved this is over and finally written after FOREVER. in the same breath i am so sad because this fic has been in the works for years (at least 3) and to see it finally written is so bittersweet :( thank you to everyone who supported me while writing this !!! i love you all so much !!!

— taglist: @jwonistic @ilovejungwonandhaechan @wensurr @yyawnjun @slvtella @dimplewonie @ch4c0nnenh4

i. GOD-DAMN, MAN CHILD

The wind always blows when you don’t want it to.

At least, that’s what it feels like.

You were sat on a bench outside of the country club owned by your friend’s family. They were crazily wealthy, owning not only a country club but also many vacation homes and businesses. That was pretty much a given though, especially since you had met your friend at a private and prestigious academy. Everyone that attended the school was extremely well off in a sense. Most of the students had parents who were business owners, political figures, or even celebrities. To say that you were an outlier would be an understatement.

You didn’t come from wealth. In fact, you were one of the only students at your school to not come from wealth. You were offered a scholarship for your academics; last year, you had an opportunity from your old school to take a test that offered a scholarship to your current academy if you scored well. Only the top five scorers would be granted admission. You and four other students were awarded with the scholarship.

Unfortunately, that meant that you had left a completely different life behind. Your two best friends from childhood, Minji and Gyuvin, were both in support of your academic opportunity, but neither of them had passed the test, so you were left alone. A new, clean slate at a school where you knew next to no one.

Your new classmates made no effort to help you fit in. In fact, most of them ridiculed you for coming from a lower class. It was expected when mingling with snotty prep school kids, but it still hurt. The only person that hadn’t singled you out was Wonyoung.

She was easily the most popular girl there, but she still brought you under her wing. This caused the others to be slightly kinder to you, but only in her presence.

So here you were, sat on a bench, outside of her family’s country club, swinging your legs and glancing at the tennis court in front of you. It was late March, and though the weather reports had said that it would be nice enough outside to wear a skirt, your legs were cursing you because of the wind.

Wonyoung had gone inside temporarily to go fetch the two boys that you were going to play tennis with. She’d left about two minutes ago, telling you that she just had to run down to the entrance gate and she’d be back as soon as possible.

You fidgeted with the hem of the skirt you were wearing. It wasn’t even yours; it was Wonyoung’s, and she had let you borrow it for today. You laughed at yourself, because here you were, at a country club, yet the clothes you were wearing weren’t even yours. From an outsiders perspective, you seemed rich. Everyone else could tell the truth, though.

Another breeze passed by and you stood up, walking towards the door. You weren’t sure how much longer you’d have to wait, so you figured that you may as well wait inside.

As if on cue, Wonyoung exited the door with the two boys. You knew both of them from school. Honestly, you liked Wonyoung’s boyfriend. His name was Taesan. He was always nice to you, and never made you feel bad for being of a lower class.

The other boy, however, seemed to have a personal vendetta against you, and you had no idea why. He didn’t seem to like you from the first day you met, even though you’d been nice to him from the get-go. If you had to guess why he didn’t like you, it was probably for the same reason that none of your other peers seemed to like you: your wealth status.

Jungwon was his name, and aside from being a major jerk to you, he was extremely intelligent. Ever since you arrived at the school, you’d been one of the top ranked students. It made sense, too, as you were permitted into the school based on your academics. Jungwon was ranked second to you in most classes. You figured that could be another reason.

As soon as you met eyes with Jungwon, he rolled his own and shook his head. He was donned in the most prestigious tennis outfit you’d ever seen, which was saying a lot, given as this country club was flooded with rich and pretentious tennis players.

“Okay,” Wonyoung started, walking over to you, “now that we are all here, do you guys want to warm up?”

“Yeah,” Jungwon said, looking away from you, “let’s warm up.”

You didn’t miss how Jungwon slightly shoulder-checked you as he walked towards the tennis courts.

You entered the fenced-in courts, and another breeze blew in your direction. As a reaction, you shivered, making Wonyoung giggle as she made her way towards you.

“Sorry about the hold up,” she started, bouncing a tennis ball on the court, practicing her serving. She looked over at the other side of the court, where Jungwon and Taesan were situated. She laughed, “but those two were taking forever. They’re weird.” She offered you an apologetic smile.

“It’s fine,” you said, “I was just afraid you wouldn’t come back. I stick out like a sore thumb here.”

Wonyoung frowned, “No you don’t, Y/N. I don’t think a single person here batted an eye while I was gone.”

“You were gone,” you teased, “how would you know?”

“I know lots of things,” she commented, “I know lots and lots of things.”

You bounced the tennis ball on the court as you laughed at her words, “Whatever you say.”

After about five minutes of warming up and a dirty look exchanged with Jungwon later, Wonyoung announced, “Okay, let’s get to playing! Do we wanna do singles or doubles?”

“Let’s do doubles,” Taesan said, walking towards the net. He patted Jungwon on the back, “and Jungwon, you can be partners with Y/N. Is that okay with you guys?”

Wonyoung turned to you, “It’s fine with me as long as you’re okay with it.”

“Yeah, sure.”

Taesan started walking over to Wonyoung, so you took that as your cue to go ahead and walk to the side Jungwon was on. Even though you knew Jungwon wasn’t your biggest fan, you still attempted formalities with him.

“Good luck,” you commented, looking at him. You sent him a little smile, “I’ll play to the best of my ability, but I don’t play often. So, sorry in advance.”

“I’m not surprised.” Jungwon replied under his breath, thinking that you wouldn’t hear. You decided to just ignore him and play to the best of your ability, like you said you would.

The first game started with Wonyoung serving and you receiving, but the first game was cut relatively short with an easy 40-15 that ended in your team’s loss.

The rest of the games of the first set ended very similarly, to no surprise. Wonyoung’s family owned the country club. Of course she would be good at the game.

So far, you and Jungwon had only won two sets out of the seven played. Wonyoung and Taesan only needed to win one more set to win the match.

Jungwon, quite obviously, was extremely frustrated at this loss. Very early on, you’d learned that he was a sore loser, and that you being bad at tennis definitely wasn’t helping soothe his anger.

After the final set that ended up in, surprise, a win for Wonyoung and Taesan, the two winners went to take a quick victory break while they left you and Jungwon to “discuss game strategies” as they phrased it.

In the three minutes that they’d been gone, no words were exchanged between you and Jungwon. He was just repeatedly slamming the tennis ball into the court and catching it when it bounced back. The air was tense, but you still tried to make conversation.

“Sorry about that.”

“Your horrible playing?” Jungwon snidely remarked, “Yeah. Thanks for the apology, but that doesn’t change that you’re making us lose.”

You furrowed your eyebrows at him, “You’re acting like this is life or death. It’s just tennis.”

“Yeah, it may be just tennis to you. But some people, of… higher class… take it more seriously than people like you would. So I don’t expect you to understand.”

“People like me?!” You laughed incredulously, surprised at his audacity. You tried your best to keep your voice down to not draw any attention towards you two, but with his attitude, it was difficult.

“Yeah, people like you. Did I stutter?” He asked snarky.

Your words got caught in your mouth- most of the time when people were mean to you, you’d just either ask them what they said (even when you’d heard it) or you’d repeat what they said to you, and that usually made them back off. Clearly this wasn’t the case for Jungwon, though, as he was completely okay with repeating himself and not even thinking twice about what he said to you. You groaned, turning away from him, “You’re not nice.”

“And you’re bad at tennis.”

“At least I’m good at math…” you trailed off, semi-hoping that he wouldn’t hear. You were better than Jungwon when it came to math, and that was a sensitive topic for him. But, if he wanted to ridicule your tennis-playing skills, then you would ridicule his mathematical abilities.

The tennis ball that was being aggressively bounced into the court stopped. You didn’t need to look at Jungwon to know his eyes were boring holes into the back of your head.

“What did you say?” Jungwon seethed out, taking a step closer to you.

“Nothing…” you trailed off, facing him, “it’s just that… I don’t need to be good at tennis. I’m smart.”

“Psh.” Jungwon rolled his eyes at you, “At least my parents can pay for good schooling. Sucks that yours have to mooch off of a scholarship.”

You rolled your eyes back, very slightly raising your voice at him, “Yeah. Imagine your parents having to pay for the same schooling that I get. And I get it for free.”

Before any more words could be exchanged, Wonyoung and Taesan returned with canned drinks, one in each hand for the both of them and for you and Jungwon. Wonyoung smiled, “We brought you guys back something to drink!”

You felt most of your anger dissipate at Wonyoung’s return, smiling at her. She and Taesan entered the courts once again and you met her in the middle, “Thank you.”

“Of course. Taesan also brought something for Jungwon.”

You nodded as she handed you the beverage, cracking it open and taking a drink. The cold liquid felt like a good refresher to the heated argument that was just beginning to unfold minutes ago.

“I’m glad that you and Jungwon seem to be getting along.” Wonyoung commented, nearly making you choke on the drink. She tucked a piece of hair behind her ears, “You guys wouldn’t make a bad couple.”

ii. SO SIT BACK AND WATCH THE BED BURN

You rolled yourself across your twin-sized mattress as you turned to face your two best friends, Minji and Gyuvin. You’d called them over to your family’s apartment to catch up, which was a much needed occasion, as you three hadn’t had much time to talk recently.

Minji and Gyuvin had just entered your bedroom door and stepped into your room, which was littered in posters, pictures, and art. Your room had always been cluttered (or “used to its maximum capacity” as your mother liked to phrase it) like this so your best friends weren’t surprised at anything when they walked in.

“Thanks for knocking.” You sarcastically remarked, pushing yourself onto your forearms to look at them. You watched as your two friends made their ways to the area in front of the foot of your bed, and saw as Minji took a seat on the rug on your floor. Gyuvin opted to take your desk chair and roll it to sit next to Minji, yet be eye-level with you.

“You look stressed,” Gyuvin commented, teasing you, “but what else is new.”

You flopped your face into your bed and let out a muffled and sarcastic, “Ha, ha.”

You heard a smacking sound and then an “Ow!” from Gyuvin. Minji stood up and made you scoot over so she could lay next to you in your bed, “Ignore him. His panties are in a twist right now for some reason.”

You turned your head to the left to look at her for a moment before dramatically flopping back into the mattress.

Minji patted your head, “What’s wrong, Y/N? You’re not usually this dramatic when we come over.”

Gyuvin stifled a laugh before quieting as soon as Minji sent him a pointed look.

You dramatically rolled over to face the ceiling of your room, “Why are boys so horrible?”

“Oh, don’t tell me you have a crush,” Minji groaned, “I’m no good with those.”

“No, no!” You rushed to correct her, not missing how Gyuvin was taunting in the mean time. He sung, “Ooh~ Y/N has a crush!”

“He is not a crush! He’s the worst person I’ve ever met!”

“Come on, Y/N,” Minji poked you, “he can’t be the worst person you’ve ever met. Think about Gyuvin!”

You rolled your eyes at Gyuvin, who was still taunting you with his song, “Gyuvin, shut the hell up!”

You watched as Minji lifted a hand that threatened to fall onto Gyuvin’s exposed thigh, and to which Gyuvin immediately shut up.

“What guy are you talking about?” Minji asked, looking back down at you.

“He’s this guy from the new school. He’s such an asshole to me for no reason. I mean, there might be a reason, but I can’t think of a valid one.”

“What does he do?” Gyuvin pitched in, finally getting his attention piqued from the conversation at hand.

“Like, everything?” You let out, “I’m not even sure where to start.”

“Saying ‘everything’ gives us no idea what this guy does, Y/N.”

You groaned dramatically before filling your friends in on the entire situation with Jungwon:

“I haven’t really told you guys about this guy before,” you started, using your hands to explain your story. Minji nodded as you told your story, while Gyuvin was spinning in his chair endlessly. You continued, “but there’s a guy at the new school, his name is Jungwon. Yang Jungwon.”

“Yang Y/N~” Gyuvin teased. Minji reached over to harshly smack his leg.

You rolled your eyes, “Anyways, he’s basically the worst person I’ve ever met. His dad runs a corporation of local gas stations, so he’s basically filthy rich. I say this because not only is he like every other private school kid that makes fun of my wealth status, but he’s also threatened to sue my parents multiple times. Most of the time he has no reason.

“The reason I’m so particularly upset about him is because I went to my school friends’ country club. You guys remember Wonyoung?” They both nodded, because as Wonyoung was your closest private school friend, of course your actual closest friends knew about her existence.

“Okay,” you said, “so we were at her country club, but her boyfriend and his friend are also there, and you’ll never guess who the friend is! Jungwon!

“He’s an ass to me basically the whole time while I’ve been trying to be nice to him,” you sighed, “I don’t know what his problem is. I didn’t even do anything to him. Anyways, we were partnered up because we were playing doubles tennis at the country club, because Wonyoung wanted to be on the same team as her boyfriend. That’s understandable, and I haven’t held it against her or anything. But he is not only a sore loser, but just a jerk to me.”

Minji nodded in sympathy at you while Gyuvin made his presence known, “Kill him. Easy as that.”

“You’re sick in the head, you know that?” MInji questioned him.

“He’s a private school kid, Y/N.” Gyuvin said, standing up from the chair to stand over you. “I really don’t know what you’re expecting from someone like him. He’s probably never been told ‘No’ in his life.”

“I’m also a private school kid…” you murmured.

“Yeah, but you weren’t brought up that way. He undoubtedly was.” Gyuvin said.

You nodded, “You’re right.”

“Always am.”

“The problem is that it’s my senior year,” you lamented, “and I don’t want it to be bad just because some pest can’t leave me alone. I just don’t know how to get rid of him.”

“You could always drop out.” Gyuvin offered, going to sit back down in the chair.

“That’s a horrible idea,” Minji said, “don’t listen to him. I’m sure that as long as you don’t pay much mind to this Jungwon guy then you’ll be fine. Plus, you have Wonyoung. They’re basically the same height, and she could probably beat him in a fight.”

You laughed, “I don’t know, I like Wonyoung a lot, but she’s basically Ivy Hills royalty. She has a reputation to manage. I’m sure fighting with Jungwon wouldn’t do her much good.”

“I would pay money to see that fight.” Gyuvin announced.

“You’re weird.”

“My mind is an enigma. I wouldn’t expect commonfolk like you to understand.”

iii. JUST SO FRUSTRATING

The halls of Ivy Hills Private Academy never failed to make your head hurt.

The utter abundance of students flooding the halls and blocking every locker at 7:30am was absolutely astounding to you. Not one person there paid any mind to you, and if by chance they did, it was a slight shove or a snarky comment. The bright, fluorescent lights surely didn’t help. You tried your hardest to blend into the background, but even though you were donned in the same uniform as all your peers, somehow you still stuck out like a sore thumb to them. It was almost like they could feel your class difference radiating off of you.

Wonyoung was one of the only people who made you feel normal. The only way that others would treat you kindly was if she was also present, since she was basically the school’s princess. You had just received a text from her that read:

good morning !! do you wanna get some food this weekend? it’s on me :)

You had no idea what your plans were for the weekend; it was only Tuesday after all. But you were sure that as long as you weren’t scheduled to work, you’d be doing nothing else. Besides, Wonyoung was always great to be around. You had yet to respond to her text, needing to not only check your schedule but also run the plans by your parents before you acted on anything. They really liked Wonyoung, so you doubted there would be a problem, but it was always best to check.

You sighed, tucking your phone into your bag while walking to your locker. You were mandated to keep your phone stowed away somewhere, and as a student at the school with a scholarship, you wanted to abide by any rules. You couldn’t risk the possibility of getting the scholarship pulled from you; you didn’t have the privilege to keep the school quiet with monetary bribes like others did. You snapped out of your train of thought and started to unlock your locker to put the majority of your textbooks away. The first class on your schedule was AP Calculus BC, one of the tougher classes at Ivy Hills, but you found it relatively easy.

Of course, it was one of the classes you shared with Jungwon.

It would be okay. You’d just do your best to not get into any quarrels with him.

You left your locker and walked quickly to your Calculus class, wasting no time to converse with others or engage in any sort of interaction with them. The Calculus class was only a hallway down from your locker, but it would still be difficult to get in there quickly with the amount of students crowding the halls. You cradled your school bag in your arms and tried your best to not run into anyone.

The AP Calculus BC teacher was possibly the stingiest educator you’d ever witnessed. She refused to let people turn anything in late, she refused to give extensions, and she refused to accept wrong answers. You’d learned this very early on in her class; one of your female peers forgot to turn her homework packet until the end of the bell, and your teacher almost didn’t even let her turn it in. You were sure she only let the girl turn it in due to the amount of points the packet was worth, and a lack of turning it in would surely result in a failing grade in the class.

You quickly found your assigned seat near the window on the far wall. The sun was still rising above the horizon, and your window seat gave a beautiful view of the sight. The sunlight spilled into the room like a calm water fountain, leaving you smiling without realizing.

Sitting down at your desk, you placed your bag to the right of your seat and opened it to pull out your binder, textbook, calculator, and a pencil. You usually opted to use mechanical pencils, but they’d all somehow gone missing, so you were forced to use a wooden one. You grabbed your pencil sharpener from your bag just to be safe.

As you lifted your head back up, you saw a face that nearly made you jump. It was Yang Jungwon, who happened to have an assigned seat right next to you in this class. Just your luck. It made sense, having the two smartest people in the class next to each other. Your teacher didn’t have to worry about any cheating on tests, at the very least.

Jungwon had one strap of his backpack looped around his right shoulder and the left side was just hanging. He was talking with some friends. You didn’t know their names, yet you were positive that they’d at least called you ‘poor’ once before. Not surprising coming from friends of Jungwon.

You started pulling out a work packet from your binder and flipped to the page in the textbook that the teacher had written on the board: 295. Sure, class hadn’t started yet, but that doesn’t mean you couldn’t get ready for it to start. You were eager to finish this last unit; the last month or so of class would be spent reviewing for the AP test. You were nearly positive you’d receive a score of five.

Out of the corner of your eye, you watched Jungwon make his way to his desk, the one to your right. He sneered at your presence, “Already got your stuff out, huh? God, what a nerd.”

Rolling your eyes, you responded, “Thanks. We’re in the same class so that also makes you a nerd.”

“There’s still time until class starts,” he said, “no need to get your stuff out ten minutes early.”

“No need to be a prick ten minutes early. Come bother me during school hours, Jungwon. Give me my ten minutes of peace while I still have them.”

Surprisingly to you, he turned away and stopped himself from snapping back.

Your ten minutes of peace quickly felt like thirty seconds when Jungwon returned to his seat at the beginning of class.

Your teacher had immediately tasked you and your classmates with pairing up with the four people closest to you; your group was you, Jungwon, a girl named Sull Yoona, and another boy named Leehan. The aforementioned two weren’t the kindest to you, but when compared with how Jungwon treated you, you were a dutchess. The groups were assigned to work on the work packet and solve fifteen problems by the end of the class period, which was roughly an hour away. You dreaded what was to come, but sucked it up. Yoona and Leehan were smart enough. Plus, conversations would be minimal anyways.

The answers you all shared majorly coincided with one another, yet there was one — problem 13 — where Jungwon and Leehan got a different answer, and refused to change their answers to fit yours. You didn’t care too much, you were sure that your and Yoona’s answer was the correct one.

“Jungwon,” you tried to reason, “the question isn’t asking for the distance traveled. It’s asking for the displacement.”

“I’m not listening to you, Y/N.” He huffed, “You tried to tell us that the last question’s answer was that the limit does not exist.”

“Okay,” you admitted, “I made a calculation error. But I’m sure that I’m right about this one.”

“I don’t care. We’ll see who’s right at the end of class.”

Another fifteen minutes passed and there was ten minutes left of class, and as most of your classmates had finished, your teacher called on a different group for each problem to answer and explain how they got what they did.

When the teacher got to question 13, it was your group’s turn to answer. Jungwon immediately stepped up to the question. His answer, which he announced confidently, was “8 meters”.

Your teacher frowned at Jungwon, “That is not the correct answer. Can someone else from the group answer differently? And maybe correctly this time? How about Y/N?”

You smiled at your teacher, “I got -5 1/3 meters.”

“That is correct. Thank you, Y/N.”

You didn’t miss how Jungwon gave you a nasty side eye when you answered correctly. The teacher quickly moved onto the next group with question 14.

Wanting to push his buttons slightly more, you leaned to your right and whispered, “I hope you realize I got into this school for a reason.”

iv. YOU CALL THE SHOTS

It was now Saturday: the day that Wonyoung had asked you to get food with her. Over the week you’d agreed to go get lunch with her on Saturday, and decided on a locally owned Italian restaurant to eat at.

It was a complete shock to you to find out that Taesan and Jungwon were also going to be at this lunch.

Wonyoung didn’t tell you, and you were sure there was no malicious intent, but the irony of this happening to you twice was slowly chipping away at your sanity.

When you arrived at the restaurant to find Jungwon and Taesan already waiting for you two, you fought every urge in your body to roll your eyes at Jungwon’s presence.

“You’re here!” Taesan called once he laid his eyes on Wonyoung. He embraced her quickly before turning to you, “Hello, Y/N. Great seeing you too.” There were no hints of sarcasm in his words, but you weren’t sure how great you felt seeing him. Not like you hated Taesan, but the growth that followed him around (Jungwon) definitely didn’t make you happy.

As if on cue, the host came back with menus and led the four of you to your table. When Wonyoung had mentioned food, you made the wrong assumption of going somewhere casual; the fact that Wonyoung was filthy rich somehow slipped your mind. There was no way you could afford most of the items they sold here, but since Wonyoung was paying, you let yourself relax a bit.

Wonyoung and Taesan were the two that are following closest behind the host, leaving you and Jungwon to be the last two in the group. You tried your best to slightly trail behind him, not wanting any altercations (especially in front of Wonyoung), but to your dismay, Jungwon had other plans in mind.

He slowed his pace just slightly to make a little snarky remark, “I hope you know that if Wonyoung wasn’t your wallet, you’d never step foot in any place like this.”

His words hurt, but it wasn’t anything that you weren’t already used to. You ignored him and picked up your pace slightly.

When you reached the table, Wonyoung and Taesan (unsurprisingly) chose to sit next to each other, leaving you and Jungwon to occupy the remaining seats. You braced yourself for what you thought would be a peaceful lunch turning into a living Hell.

Lunch, shockingly, went a lot smoother than you had anticipated it would be. Jungwon mostly kept his comments under wraps, and nothing he said was hurtful enough to actually provoke you into retorting with something potentially worse.

Near the end of the meal, Wonyoung excused herself to go to the bathroom. Seeing this as the perfect opportunity to finally be able to talk to her without the boys around, you leapt up and joined her.

Once in the bathroom, Wonyoung immediately went into a stall while you stood in front of the luxurious sink. You adjusted your clothes and some of your makeup while she occupied herself.

Once the toilet flushed and you were sure there wasn’t anyone else in the bathroom, you spoke up and finally popped a question to Wonyoung:

“Can I ask you something?”

Wonyoung emerged from the stall and walked to the sink next to the one you occupied. She turned on the water, “Sure, what’s up?”

“How come you haven’t been telling me when Jungwon and Taesan will be joining us at stuff? I don’t mind it all too much, but I feel like I’m being led into it blindfolded instead.”

“Oh, I-” she stopped herself, an indecipherable look on her face. She finished washing her hands and turned to you, “I’m sorry about not telling you, first of all. I’ll make sure to be more transparent about it in the future.”

“Thank you,” you said, “but my question is why are they there all the time? I understand Taesan; that’s your boyfriend. But Jungwon and I have no relation outside of being the assumed valedictorian and salutatorian of our graduating class.”

“Well,” Wonyoung smiled, “Taesan and I just think you guys are so cute together. Like, not only are you both geniuses, but you’re also both Taesan’s and my respective closest friends!”

You tilted your head, wanting her to continue.

“Listen, Y/N.” She grabbed your hand, her cold and dainty hands wrapping themselves around your right one. She smiled genuinely, “You’ve just been able to help me so much, so I want to return the favor! You deserve someone like Jungwon. He’s smart, he’s a gentleman, his dad has a lot of power, he’s athletic.”

You pursed your lips at her.

“Plus,” she continued, “with you two being the most intelligent students in the school, can you imagine the cute study dates? I’m just getting giddy thinking about it!!”

“Wonyoung…” you started carefully, “I think I’m okay. I should probably worry more about school than any potential relationship right now anyways.”

“If you say so,” Wonyoung removed her hands from yours, “but I’m still rooting for this. The second you tell me to back off, I will, but for now, Taesan and I are going to try to help you two from the sidelines.”

v. HOPE YOU DON’T REGRET IT

The following day, you, Minji, and Gyuvin were all situated at Minji’s house, in her living room. Minji was sitting in an armchair, Gyuvin was on the sofa, and you were sprawled out on the floor, in yet another dramatic mood.

You recapped your two best friends on the incidental Saturday lunch, not missing any details. Starting from the presence of Jungwon, and especially up to the comment Wonyoung made about you two getting together. The whole entire story was crazy to you and reliving it through your storytelling made you almost shiver in fear.

“And she went, ‘we will help you from the sidelines’,” you lamented, “like who says that?! I get that she has no idea about the rivalry, but he and I aren’t even cute together. He’s short.”

Gyuvin let out a hearty laugh at your comment, “Y/N, if he’s short, then you are also short.”

“Besides the point!”

“Your life does not even sound real,” Minji said, “and it’s so hard to not laugh, I’m sorry.”

You groaned from your spot on the floor, sending Minji a side eye, “Is my life some joke to you two?!”

“A little bit.” Gyuvin laughed out.

You rolled your eyes and flipped over onto your stomach, “This is so not funny.”

“Have you thought about just telling Wonyoung to back off?” Minji asked.

“Yeah, I have, thanks.” You replied to her sarcastically. You craned your neck to look at your best friend, “I haven’t done it because I know for a fact she would ask why. And I don’t wanna get into all of that, especially because her boyfriend is best friends with the devil in question.”

Minji snorted, “You two should just fake date. That’d get Wonyoung to back off.”

You immediately sat up, “Are you crazy?! Absolutely not!”

Gyuvin agreed from his spot, “Minji has a point. Maybe you two could even become friends along the way.”

Shaking your head profusely, you shot a look at Gyuvin, then at Minji, “You guys are crazy.”

“What if,” Minji proposed, “you did it for money? You just told us about how your workplace is shutting down. Plus, you need the money. You’re broke as fuck.”

“Ouch.”

“She’s right, I hate to admit it.” Gyuvin said, shrugging.

“Oh, absolutely not. I may be broke but not broke enough to date Yang Jungwon, even if it’s fake.”

“How about this?” Gyuvin challenged, “If you can successfully fake date this guy until your pretentious-ass Ivy Hills Ball dance in a couple weeks, I’ll give you $50. But only if you also go to the dance with him.”

“It’s like you want me to kill myself.”

“I’ll also give you $50.” Minji said, raising her eyebrows.

The Ivy Hills Ball dance was essentially a more talked-up prom, but from what you’d heard, it was held in an old music hall and the funding was insane. To have that experience be ruined by having Jungwon as a date did not sound enticing in the slightest, but $100 dollars did.

Plus, Gyuvin was right. It would only be a couple weeks.

“You guys drive a hard fucking bargain, I hate you two.”

“Damn,” Gyuvin laughed, “your ass really is broke. $100 to date your alleged enemy, and you’re sold.”

“I haven’t agreed!” You reasoned, trying to defend yourself.

“We both know you will, Y/N.” Minji cocked an eyebrow.

“I really, really hate you two.”

vi. YOU GAVE A KICK, I GAVE A SLAP

Any consideration you had towards fake dating Jungwon was almost thrown out the window on the next Wednesday.

It was your AP Physics bell, which, surprise, was shared with Jungwon.

After almost trying to embarrass you in front of the class (yet luckily failing), you had to fight every urge inside to not curse him out right in that moment.

You breathed heavily out at him, “Jungwon, if you keep bothering Hanni and I, we’ll never finish this lab. And neither will you.”

“You say that like you’re smart enough to finish this lab even if I wasn’t bothering you.”

You didn’t miss how Hanni immediately widened her eyes and focused her attention back onto her lab notebook. Other classmates’ attention was caught from Jungwon’s loud comment, making your face flush a bright red.

Breathing out heavily, you sent Jungwon the most nasty look you could muster. Blinking once at him, “Shut up, Yang. Shut up for once in your goddamn life.”

Jungwon cocked an eyebrow at you, slightly smirking. He placed down his pencil, “Why don’t you make me?”

You started at him, not breaking eye contact. Of course you couldn’t ‘make him’ shut up, but that wouldn’t stop you from trying to kill him with your gaze.

“That’s what I thought,” he remarked, “all bark but no bite. Typical Y/N.”

“You’re the worst person I’ve ever met.”

“The feeling is mutual.”

vii. AND I CAN’T LOOK YOU IN THE EYES

The following weekend, you found yourself at Wonyoung’s mansion with Taesan and Jungwon. This time, Wonyoung had warned you that Jungwon and Taesan would be present, yet you still decided to go. Because who was Yang Jungwon to dictate when you could and couldn’t hang out with Wonyoung?

Wonyoung had recently opened her pool back up and invited the three of you over to be the first to swim in it. You happily accepted, having no other plans for the day and promising yourself that you wouldn’t let Jungwon’s presence bother you.

While in the pool, you kept letting your mind drift to the bet that Minji and Gyuvin had proposed to you earlier that week. The $100 sounded really appealing, and potentially getting Wonyoung off your back about getting you and Jungwon together would also be nice.

Noticing your distancing, Wonyoung swam up to you, “What’s wrong? Is everything okay?”

You snapped out of your thoughts and looked at her, “Yeah, yeah. Everything’s fine, just thinking.”

She nodded at you while you pondered whether taking a break inside would be good to clear your mind for the time being. You decided that at the moment, that seemed best. You spoke again, “Actually, I think I’m gonna go inside to get a drink. Is that okay?”

“Yeah,” she smiled, “of course. Make sure to dry off well before you go in though.”

You nodded at her, watching her swim away back to Taesan while you swam to the pool steps and got out. You quickly found your towel and sandals, then went to the door that led back into the house.

You wrapped the towel around your shoulders and dried your feet on the bath mat that the Jangs had outside their home. Opening the door, you took one last look at the three in the pool, accidentally locking eyes with Jungwon. You furrowed your eyebrows and entered the house.

You entered the house of your friend and approached the kitchen where there was lemon water waiting in a pitcher. Of course, the rich family drank lemon water. You put ice into your newly found cup and sighed. While pouring yourself a glass, you heard the back door open and close again, signifying someone was also coming inside the house. You hoped it was Wonyoung, or even Taesan, but you were disappointed when you saw Jungwon’s figure walk towards the kitchen.

At his presence, your mind came back to the bet. You really needed the money right now, and getting Wonyoung off your back about him would also be a major plus.

Jungwon strode his way into the kitchen, passing you to grab a can of what appeared to be some seltzer water. His hair was still wet and his body was damp, him having done an obviously half-assed job at drying himself off. His towel was wrapped around his waist, but what drew you in was his body. Had he always had this attractive of a figure?

“I think you have a staring problem.” He said, smirking at you and making you snap out of your daze. You cleared your throat and felt heat rise to your cheeks.

“I don’t,” you clarified, “I was just… spacing out.”

“Sure.”

A layer of silence fell over the two of you, you avoiding looking at Jungwon in order to not inflate his ego any further. Your mind went back to the bet. Would this be an appropriate time?

You quickly decided, fuck it, and cleared your throat once more to get his attention, “Jungwon.”

He rolled his eyes and let out an exasperated breath through his nose, but answered, “What?”

“I, um,” you tried to find the words, “I have a really.. interesting.. hypothetical for you. Could be good, could be bad, just- a hypothetical.”

He raised an eyebrow at you questioningly, “Go on…”

“So,” you got a hold of yourself finally. This was just Jungwon you were talking to; if he declined your suggestion to the bet, you’d live. You looked at him, “I can’t be the only one that’s being bothered by Wonyoung and Taesan about the two of us getting together, right?”

Jungwon paused but then answered, “You aren’t.”

“Okay,” you continued, “so I recently saw some of my closest friends and they know about the whole thing. They came up with the proposal for you and I to fake date. Before you say anything, I’m not exactly thrilled either, but I think it would work. I’m sure you’re not too happy to be forced to be around me all the time either.”

“I feel like there’s an ulterior motive here,” Jungwon replied, “so tell me what it is you’re gaining out of this.”

“Getting Wonyoung off my back, of course. I also may be getting paid $100 by my friends to fake date you.”

“Why would you be getting paid?” He asked, crossing his arms.

“They know we don’t like each other, so they think it’s funny. They said if we successfully date until the dance, I’ll get the money.”

“This sounds really stupid.” Jungwon said, disgusted.

“I’ll give you half the money,” you offered, “I promise.”

Jungwon scoffed, “You think I need the money? Funny joke.”

You rolled your eyes, “Okay, rich boy,” you started walking back towards the door that went to the pool, “whatever. As long as you’re fine with Wonyoung and Taesan never leaving us alone, then suit yourself.”

You stopped in your tracks, turning over your shoulder to finish your ment:

“I didn’t expect you of all people to say yes, anyway.”

You watched as Jungwon cocked an eyebrow, his tongue prodding his cheek. He swallowed, taking quick steps toward you before you could open the door.

“Y/N,” he said, suddenly sounding challenged, “wait. Let’s discuss this.”

viii. IT’S JUST WHAT YOU DO

The following Monday, you were sat next to Jungwon in your Calculus class, supposedly listening to a lecture. Having not discussed the concrete rules with Jungwon yet, you decided that passing him a note to ask about if talking them through after class would be alright with him.

You ripped a corner off of your notebook paper and quickly scribbled down:

Hey. Do u wanna discuss the rules after class?

As discreetly as possible, you tapped Jungwon on the sleeve of his uniform and when he turned his head, you handed him the note. He gave you a wide-eyed look but grabbed the paper anyway.

You turned your head back to your teacher, but moments later your attention was taken by Jungwon, who had tapped on your arm instead this time. You read his handwriting:

What rules

Was he dumb? How he could be so good at math but so socially unaware was astonishing to you.

You flipped the small piece of paper once and wrote your response:

For fake dating? We need to establish rules. Unless you’ve already chickened out …

You passed the slip back to Jungwon.

Within seconds, he handed the paper back to you. His response read:

I didn’t chicken out. We don’t have much time between classes but as long as you’re fine walking the same way as me we can do it then. Make it quick though. I don’t want to be seen with you if I don’t have to be.

You stifled a laugh, and quickly wrote back:

You agreed to this, man. You’re gonna have to get used to being seen with me anyways

Jungwon read your written message and rolled his eyes. He crumpled the paper up and shoved it somewhere in his bag, never to be seen again.

Minutes later, the bell rang. You packed up your items and waited for Jungwon to finish packing his up so you could leave the class. Once finished, he started, “So?”

“Let’s walk and talk,” you said, leading the way. Jungwon was quickly on your heels. You shrugged, “the hallways will be too loud for people to overhear anyway.”

Jungwon nodded and speedily made his way next to your side in the hallway. You were right, not only was it loud, but no one would be paying any mind to you two anyway. At least hopefully.

“First off, if anyone asks, from this moment on, you and I are dating, okay?”

Jungwon breathed out a little sigh and pursed his lips, “Yep. Let’s get onto the rules now. We’ve only got so much time.”

“Okay,” you started, “first rule: this only goes until the dance. We’ll go to the dance as each other’s dates, and after that, we can ‘break up’.”

For once in his life, Jungwon agreed with you, “Sounds fine to me.”

“Great. Have any ideas for rule two?”

“Uh…” he paused, trailing off in thought. “Hm. Who is allowed to know that we’re fake dating?”

“I mean, ideally no one. But because my two other friends know, I feel like as long as it’s someone you trust that’s not close with Wonyoung or Taesan then it should be fine for you to tell them. I can’t control what you do, though, so do whatever you want, I guess.”

“Okay,” he said, “so rule two: keep it on the down-low.”

You nodded your head at him, “I have a suggestion for rule three.”

“Go ahead.”

“We can do some PDA, but kissing is unnecessary.”

“Sounds good.”

“Okay,” you continued, “rule four: if we need to ‘break up’ for any serious reason before the dance, that’s okay. We just need to let the other person know before we stage a break up.”

Jungwon nodded again, then turned his head to the left, “My class is over this way. We can message later about this.”

“Okay, see you.”

Jungwon walked into the classroom on the left and within moments, Wonyoung made her way to your side.

“Where did you come from?” You asked, surprised at her presence.

“I was walking behind you this whole time. Since when did you start going this way?”

You shrugged, “Since now.”

She painted a cheeky smile on her face, “And?”

“And what?”

“Don’t think I didn’t see you walking with Jungwon, Y/N! What was that about?!”

You feigned innocence, “Oh, nothing. Y’know.”

“I don’t,” she said, smiling widely, “I really don’t. Spill.”

“Well,” you replied, “I dunno, what do you think?”

“I think you two should date.”

You offered no response and just let your face form into a smile. Wonyoung’s eyes widened at you, “Y/N L/N. Don’t tell me.”

“Tell you what?” You responded with a smirk.

“There’s no way!” She freaked out, “You guys are dating?!”

“Possibly.”

“Y/N! I’m so happy!” Wonyoung smiled at you and grabbed your hand and gave it a squeeze. This was the most excited you’d ever seen her.

“I am too.” You said, “Could you maybe keep it on the down-low for now though? It’s really new.”

“Yeah, of course! Can I tell Taesan?”

“Go ahead, yeah,” you smiled at her, “I think he’d be pretty stoked too.”

Wonyoung pulled out her phone to text her boyfriend and a small silence settled between you two. Wonyoung was the first to break the silence once she sent the message:

“So, I was right about you two being cute together.”

You laughed, “Whatever helps you sleep at night, Wonyoung.”

ix. MAKE UP YOUR MIND

It was already a week and a half into the fake relationship and you felt like your sanity was slowly slipping away from you.

Jungwon played soccer all year long, you’d learned, and you’d started going to his games and practices. Aside from the practices as a whole being excruciatingly boring, the games weren’t bad at all. You had to admit, Jungwon was good at what he did. He had four practices during the week and two on the weekend. In the time since you’d started going to see Jungwon outside of school hours, you’d learned that he could be tolerable sometimes. Emphasis on ‘sometimes’.

You’d also learned that he was a very good actor. His teammates immediately accepted you as Jungwon’s girlfriend, and as a result, you’d earned an honorific position on the team.

It definitely helped that you could make small talk and pre-event plans when Jungwon drove you places in his expensive car. His car was probably more expensive than your family’s whole apartment.

But here you were, sitting on the bleachers at around 7pm on Tuesday night, watching Jungwon and his teammates practice. There were only about fifteen minutes left of practice, and then you were free to go home and potentially regret every decision you’d ever made.

The bright lights of the field were giving you a headache and you weren’t sure how much longer you’d be able to handle this. You took a look at where Jungwon was located on the field, taking note of his focused face as he listened to his coach. Jungwon was one of the better players on the team, and it was evident to you because of the way he talked so passionately about the game. You hated to admit, but it was nice to see him talk so fondly about something for once rather than make unprovoked mean comments towards you.

Around five minutes later, Jungwon and the team suddenly dispersed from their coach and walked towards their bags. You rested your chin on your hand and watched his figure start making its way towards you. He slung his bag over his shoulder and jogged slowly to your spot on the bleachers.

Once he reached the barrier between you and the field, he sighed, “Hey.”

“Hi,” you said, “how was practice?”

Ever since you’d started ‘dating’ Jungwon, you’d made a point to try (at the very least) to be kind to him, even if it wasn’t in front of other people. You hoped that maybe through being kind to him, it might make him be kind back. Hopefully that would make the whole fake dating process a whole lot easier.

“It was fine,” he was short with his answer, yet not necessarily cold for once, “I’m tired.”

“You look like it.” You stood up from your spot on the bleachers and walked towards the barrier to meet Jungwon in the middle.

He checked his watch, “It’s good that we got out early. I have a shit ton of Calc work to do.”

Walking out from behind the barrier, you met Jungwon. He started walking to his car and you quickly followed.

“The packet?” You questioned, picking up the pace to match with his.

You and all your classmates had your work packet that was due the following day, which was Friday. You had already finished the packet a couple days ago and had turned it into your teacher, wanting to get it off of your mind if it was out of your sight.

“Yeah,” he said, “do you have the answers?”

“I don’t have them, no,” you admitted, “I already turned my packet.”

“Shit,” he quietly exclaimed, “I don’t know how to do most of them.”

“Oh,” you replied, “I do. I’m sorry that I don’t have answers.”

“It’s fine,” he rolled his eyes.

Suddenly, it looked like Jungwon got an idea.

He turned to you, “Wait. Are you doing anything after this?”

You racked your brain to think of anything, but nothing came to mind. You turned to look at him, “No, I don’t think so.”

“Do you wanna come over and help me?”

“To your house?” You questioned.

“Yeah,” he said, confused, “where else?”

“Oh,” you said, surprised, “are you sure you’d want me there?”

“It’s fine,” he replied, “it’s just this once.”

“I mean I guess so…” you pondered, “I don’t know. It’s a school night.”

Jungwon checked his watch again, “It’s only 7:09, I don’t think it should be too bad. Unless you have a curfew?”

“I don’t…” you admitted, “I guess I could help you. But I don’t want to make you drive me there and then have to drive me all the way back home. You already picked me up, plus it’s out of the way for you.”

“Consider me driving you as a payment for you helping me… I really need the help, and would appreciate it. You’re smart.”

For the first time ever, Jungwon complimented you. It left you in a state of shock, to put it simply; you had never expected to hear Jungwon compliment you, even while fake dating.

“Thanks,” you said, “I’ll help you.”

He said nothing more as the two of you finally reached his car. He loaded his soccer bag into the back of the car and opened the drivers side door, beckoning for you to do the same.

“I don’t live far from here,” he started the car, “so it’ll be a quick drive.”

You nodded in your spot while Jungwon reversed out of his parking spot. He shifted the car into drive and quickly pulled out of the school parking lot.

Like Jungwon said, the drive was extremely quick. It was only around three minutes, so Jungwon didn’t even bother putting on the radio. He opted instead to roll down the window and not speak.

You really shouldn’t have been surprised by Jungwon’s family estate. Given just by how much money his car seemed to cost, the grandeur of his home should not have come as a shock to you. But it still did.

The gate at the beginning of the driveway seemed inviting; it looked purposefully worn down. The somewhat dingy look of something that was probably not even a year old welcomed you in, in a sense.

The driveway looked freshly paved, the black color not ever changing from erosion. There wasn’t a single crack in the pavement, and it was lined with white pillars that had lamp light illuminating from the top.

Further up the driveway, you could see four other cars. Thinking about the total cost of all the vehicles combined sent a shiver down your spine.

The house itself, which was to the left, could barely even get by being called a “house”. It was easily more than ten times the size of your family’s apartment, and if not for the trees that surrounded it, you’d assume it was a lot taller than it actually was.

The brick was white and the front of the house had pillars driving up and down to support a black roof. The lights in the house were off, giving a stark contrast to the otherwise homely feel of the entrance.

Jungwon pulled the car into the parking spot closest to the house. Once parked, he loaded himself out and went to the back seat to grab his soccer gear.

“No one’s home but us,” he said, “but my parents have cameras everywhere, so we’ll go through the garage. Leave your shoes on the doormat.”

Jungwon led you through the garage, then into the large kitchen, followed by a large living space. He then flipped on a light switch and walked you to the foyer, which was a high-ceilinged room with white walls and stairs that cascaded towards the second floor. The balcony of the second floor overlooked the foyer, and there was a large chandelier hung at the top of the ceiling.

Jungwon beckoned you towards the hardwood steps, “My room’s upstairs.”

Your attention was brought away from the chandelier and you followed as Jungwon ascended the steps towards his room. At the top of the steps, there was a hallway that extended both left and right, and there was also the other side of the balcony.

This side of the balcony overlooked a different living space, but you didn’t get a good look at it before Jungwon tried to disappear out of your sight towards the right hand side of the hallway.

He passed by a few rooms with closed doors before opening the door to the final one on the right. Jungwon walked in first and left the door open for you to enter.

His room was just as large as you anticipated it to be, with large windows on two sides of the room and a king-sized mattress in the corner of the space. You bit back any comments about the size of his bed; he was a short man, why did he need that much space?

Jungwon turned on the lamp next to his bed and dropped his soccer bags at the foot of the bedframe. His backpack was lying right in front of the bedside table, already opened. You could assume that he’d already tried to start the Calculus work yet failed. Hence why you’d needed to come over to help.

Jungwon sat on the edge of the bed and pulled his backpack onto it. You stood very awkwardly in front of him, not sure what to do; you were almost waiting for instruction from him.

Jungwon scooted back on the bed with his backpack to make room for you. He beckoned towards the now empty seat for you to sit on. You carefully sat on the edge of the bed, not even turning your knees to face his body.

“You look really weird right now.” Here came back the Jungwon you were used to, the one who threw out any sort of comment he could at you.

“I’m sorry,” you said, turning back to him, “I’m trying to be cautious. I’m afraid you might insult me if I so much as lay a finger on your comforter.”

Jungwon, without you noticing, rolled his eyes. He sighed, “You can sit further back on my bed. I don’t bite.”

“I just don’t believe you, to be honest.” You remarked back at him.

Sighing again, albeit more frustratedly this time, Jungwon caught you by surprise by grabbing your wrist closest to him and slightly tugging you further back on his bed.

“I don’t care if you don’t believe me,” he said, “I need your help. I won’t bite so long as you’re helping me.”

You finally turned to face him, taking note of how much closer you two were sat now that he had pulled your wrist. You looked down at his hand still wrapped around your wrist. He quickly removed his hand.

Adjusting yourself, you turned to face Jungwon on his bed, watching him pull out a binder, a pencil, and a calculator. He opened the binder, searching for a familiar white packet: the same one that’d you’d turned in earlier that week.

You tucked a piece of hair behind your ear and leaned over slightly to look at the problem that he was caught on. Jungwon noticed how you were sat across from him, and thereby couldn’t properly read the problem. He scooted his body more to the left of you and moved his binder so you could read.

The problem that Jungwon had attempted last had lots and lots of erased pencil marks all over it; he had clearly been struggling with it. You remembered also struggling with the same problem, but not nearly as much as he did.

“So this is one of the ones you’re struggling with?” You questioned, looking at him.

“Yeah,” he rolled his eyes, “I feel like she made this a lot harder than it should’ve been.”

“I had a hard time with this one, too, if it makes you feel any better.” You reassured him. Motioning to his calculator, you continued, “Why don’t you walk me through the steps of what you’re doing? Then I can show you what I did.”

Roughly fifteen minutes later and there were still eraser marks decorating the paper, yet not nearly as much as there were before. Jungwon was still confused, but had successfully worked through half of the problem he was caught on.

Jungwon groaned for what seemed like the hundredth time when you caught another mistake of his, “This is so stupid.”

“Hey,” you laughed, “I’m just trying to help you.”

“You know I didn’t mean you.”

There it was again, another positive comment from Jungwon, and this one sent a special beat through your heart. You chalked it up to just being not used to this side of Jungwon, not anything more.

“It’s okay,” you reassured, “I told you that I also struggled with this one. It’s not you, it’s the problem.”

You weren’t sure what came over you, but with the sudden kindness from Jungwon, you felt the need to return the gesture.

“I know,” he groaned, “I know. I just want to finish this problem. I have like four more to do that are the exact same thing.”

Jungwon flopped back on his bed, covering his face with his hands. You slightly laughed at the boy; all that big, tough act just for him to crumble at a math problem.

“Why are you laughing?” Jungwon whined, not amused. He removed his hands from his face to look at you.

“I’m not,” you tried concealing your laughter, “I’m not. I swear.”

“You’re laughing at me,” he said, “I’m about to drop out of school and you’re laughing at me.”

“Don’t be dramatic,” you replied, “it’s just one math problem. Wanna take a break with me?”

“…Maybe.”

You got off of Jungwon’s bed and started, “Come on, get up.”

“Actually, changed my mind, I’d rather die here than take a break with you.”

Though his words seemed harsh, you could tell there were hints of joking in his tone. You smiled naturally at him, “Fine, be like that. I’ll just leave.”

“You don’t have a ride home, need I remind you.”

“But I have a phone,” you teased, pulling your phone out of your pocket, “and I have people I can call. Like Gyuvin or Minji.”

Jungwon sat up finally, tilting his head at you, “Who are they?”

You didn’t even realize that you’d mentioned your childhood friends with Jungwon; you had been so oddly comfortable in the moment that you’d just let their names leave your mouth.

“Oh, uh-” you started, looking down, “just, uh, friends from my old school.”

You braced yourself for him to make fun of your ‘poor’ friends as usual, but nothing came from his direction of the room. You looked back up at him to find him with the same expression he’d had while asking you about them.

“What did you want to take a break for?” He inquired.

“Oh, I didn’t need it,” you said, “I thought you might’ve needed it.”

“Oh.”

A blanket of silence temporarily fell over the room until Jungwon broke the quiet atmosphere, “Didn’t know you had it in you to be so caring.”

“Maybe you’d know if you didn’t try to get under my skin all the time,” you remarked, with hints of teasing, “I’m actually quite the caring person, you’d be surprised.”

“I’m not.”

You had no time to process what he’d said before he spoke again:

“Let’s get back to work. I need to focus so you don’t stay here any longer than you have to.”

And just like that, Jungwon was back to his normal self.

x. I ALMOST SAID “I LOVE YOU”

The next following weeks that were leading up to the dance passed quicker in a blur than you’d like to admit they had; it seemed like just yesterday you had started fake-dating Jungwon, but in actuality it was coming up on around a month and a half.

In the time that you two had been “dating”, you’d become familiar with the soccer team, had gone to his house on multiple occasions, and even met his mother once.

Another uncertain familiarity had also made itself known: you were beginning to get used to being with Jungwon.

There had been many different occasions in which you’d felt yourself especially having let your walls down to the boy, and as more weeks passed of being “together”, the moments became much more frequent.

In particular, the last week had been particularly eventful for you.

The first strange event had occurred on Tuesday evening, when Jungwon, Wonyoung, Taesan, and you had all gone to the mall after school. Wonyoung was in need of some sort of new fur jacket for a family company event, or so she said. You had tagged along to help her find something suitable to wear, and she had told you that it was of the utmost importance that you were with her.

Taesan had joined because he wanted to pay for Wonyoung’s coat, being the caring boyfriend that he was. Taesan had also extended to invite to Jungwon to create the illusion of a double date.

While Wonyoung was in the fitting room of an expensive French store with a name you couldn’t even try to pronounce, Taesan had told you that he would hold onto the current items you had in hand and told you to try find some more different ones on the other side of the store. You happily obliged, loving the feeling of window shopping in a place you could never afford.

To your surprise, Jungwon had joined you without you asking or Taesan offering the idea to him.

The two of you quickly found yourselves in the coat designated area of the store, and you told Jungwon that you two should divide and conquer.

He listened to you, and set off in the opposite direction of where you were.

The first coat that caught your eye was cream colored, with what felt like a velvet inside and a chiffon outside. The sleeves and collar were decorated with what you could only guess was arctic fox fur. You loved Wonyoung, but you had a hard time getting behind her family’s necessity of wearing animal fur. It sent a shiver down your spine.

Looking at the price tag, it read $1,205. Your jaw slightly dropped, forgetting how truly expensive it was in there. You grabbed the jacket nonetheless, and started to make your way to try and find Jungwon.

Out of the corner of your eye, a glint of diamond found you.

You knew that you should have been getting back to Wonyoung.

But one look wouldn’t hurt, right?

You stalked your way up to the glass display slowly and spotted the most gorgeous pairs of earrings you’d ever seen in your entire lifetime. Next to the diamond pair that’d initially caught your eye, there was a beautiful silver chained necklace with what appeared to be a green gemstone encased in the center. It had to be the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen.

The employee noticed your wonder and walked over to speak to you.

“Hello,” the middle aged woman started, “see anything that you like, sweetheart?”

“Oh, uh-” you were startled, “Sorry. I was just looking.”

“I understand. We have a wonderful selection of jewelry. Are you looking at anything in particular?”

You shook your head, “No, um, I can’t. I’m here with a friend. This is way out of my price range.”

“I see, dear,” she said, pulling her glasses down from her head and placing them on her nose, “but that’s not what I was asking. Which one caught your eye?”

“Oh,” you laughed awkwardly, “I liked the diamond earrings a lot. The necklace with the small green gemstone is what kept me staring, though.”

“That’s a very popular one, the green gemstone. It’s a Colombian emerald.”

“It’s absolutely beautiful. If I had a job like this, I’d just spend all day looking at all the jewelry.”

The lady nodded, “As do I now.”

Suddenly, Jungwon appeared behind you, slightly startling you. You whipped around to see what seemed to be a concerned look.

“Hi,” you said, “I found something for Wonyoung.”

“I can see that,” he responded, looking down at the coat, then back at you, “but I was hoping more for you to find me. Taesan messaged me, asking where we were, because Wonyoung is still ‘hopeless’.”

“Oh,” you stuttered, “I got distracted. Thank you,” you turned to the woman as you started walking away, “and sorry about that,” you looked at Jungwon, “I got really distracted.”

“Yeah,” he slightly laughed, “I could have told you that. You should’ve answered your phone, I was worried.”

He was worried?

“You texted me?” You asked him.

Jungwon was worried?

“And called.”

Jungwon said he was worried.. about you. Weird.

You tried to ignore the slight skip in your heartbeat as you walked with him back to the fitting rooms.

xi. TO SIP IT SLOWLY

The next strange occurrence was the following Thursday night.

As a celebratory event, Jungwon’s soccer team decided to have a party in honor of their hard work (and just to party).

It was no surprise that a group of boys like Jungwon’s soccer team would host an obnoxious party. It reminded you of the ones that came out of movies; there was plenty of underaged drinking, it was too loud, and shitty music was blasting from a speaker that was a room over.

The party was in full swing by the time that you had arrived, which was about an hour after it was said to have started. The reason for your tardiness could have been chalked up to one person only: Gyuvin. As an apology for him causing you to be late, he offered to drive you to the location where the party was being held.

You had tried texting Jungwon multiple times on your way to the party, but, to no avail, he didn’t answer. This alone nearly caused you to forget about even showing up.

You sent him one last text — “just arrived. Wya?” — before leaving Gyuvin’s car and walking up the lawn of the house. While you went to the door (alone), you repeatedly checked your phone to see if Jungwon had messaged you back:

No.

The front door was unlocked when you reached it, and the foyer was empty. From a couple rooms away, you could hear music being blasted from a speaker. Hoping for the best, you decided to follow your gut and head that way.

The music was coming from the basement, which was down a hall then through a door that led to a flight of stairs. As you approached closer and closer to the basement door, you braced yourself for the potential of going deaf.

With still no text back from Jungwon, you opened the door and began walking down the stairs towards the main event of the party.

The first girl to acknowledge your presence was a girl named Noh Yunah, who was best friends with the girl who hosted the party: Park Minju. Minju was in a long term relationship with Anton Lee, the head captain of the team.

“Hey,” Yunah started, “you’re Y/N, right?”

“Yeah,” you made your way to stand next to her. Yelling over the music, you continued, “I am. You’re Noh Yunah?”

“I am!” Yunah smiled at you. “Where’s Jungwon?”

You slightly flushed at the sound of his name. You forgot that everyone here was in relation to the soccer team somehow, so of course they’d only know you as Jungwon’s girlfriend.

“Beats me,” you laughed, “I texted him earlier but he didn’t respond.”

“Weird,” Yunah responded, “I’m pretty sure that he was talking about you earlier. I just assumed that you two would have shown up together.”

“Yeah,” you said. Looking past Yunah, you couldn’t see anyone that resembled Jungwon. Sighing, you continued, “I had plans beforehand though. They unfortunately made me late.”

“Girl, I understand,” she laughed, “I hate these stupid parties most of the time. If I had other plans, I’d rather be there. Unfortunately, everyone that I’m friends with is here. I’m just glad there’s another girl.”

Suddenly, Park Minju made herself known from beside Yunah. She smiled, “I’m so relieved that you came, Y/N. Jungwon never stops talking about you at lunch. I needed to meet you finally so he would shut up.”

You laughed awkwardly, not sure if she was being nice or if it was a backhanded compliment. Either way, both girls were right; it was a complete relief to have other girls there.

But their behavior kind of puzzled you, too. Had the three of you been in a school setting, they probably wouldn’t have looked twice at you. If they did, it probably would’ve been to make a snarky comment.

Okay, maybe you were being too harsh on these girls. You’d never met them before.

But, in the same breath, you could never truly be too sure about Ivy Hills students.

Minju looked at your awkward stance, then laughed, “Do you want a drink?”

“Oh,” you started, “no. I don’t drink. Thank you though.”

“Suit yourself.” Minju raised a teasing eyebrow and smiled, then walking away to the big circle of people in the middle of the room — that same Jungwon-less circle you’d seen earlier.

Yunah looked at you, “Are you okay?”

You snapped out of your thoughts, “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Just, um… wondering where Jungwon is.”

“Hey,” she grabbed you by your wrist and pulled you closer so you could hear her better, “Sorry about Minju. I swear she likes you. She just doesn’t do well with new people.”

You nodded and let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding in, “That’s good to know. I think I might actually take her up on her drinking offer, though. Is there anything non-alcoholic?”

Yunah bit her lip, “I’m not sure. Everything’s in the kitchen. Want me to come check with you?”

“No,” you reassured, “I’ll be fine. Thank you, though.”

You left Yunah and ventured back up the stairs towards where the kitchen was, which was off the hall. There were a few people in there already, looking into coolers and what you could assume was Minju’s parents’ liquor cabinet.

You crouched by a cooler with no one nearby and fished through it, looking for something tame, like a soda. Your best bet was either a safe ginger ale or something new: a Jack Daniels wine cooler.

You didn’t know anyone at the party.. and you had school the following morning, that you couldn’t risk skipping. But maybe one wine cooler wouldn’t be that bad…

You stood up from your crouching position and walked to the kitchen counter where you placed your drink. Cracking it open, you took your first sip.

Suddenly, your phone buzzed in your pocket with a text from someone you had been waiting on:

Jungwon.

It was a simple text — “Hey” — but you felt your heart skip a beat. Perhaps the alcohol had entered your system quickly.

You quickly responded — “Where are you??” — to his text and placed your phone face down, leaning your back against the counter to face the open doorway.

As if on cue, a familiar lean figure walked through the doorway, almost making you choke on nothing. Unknowingly, your face broke into a little smile of relief.

Jungwon nodded to whoever the other people were in the room (who were still scavenging for drinks) before walking over to you.

“Where have you been?” You questioned teasingly once he made his way over to you.

“Oh, around, y’know.”

You rolled your eyes at him.

“I was out on the back porch with some of my teammates, why?” He looked at you, “You missed me?”

“You wish,” you laughed, “but no. I don’t know anyone here. I kind of need you here in order for it to make any remote sense of me being here.”

“Fair enough,” he shrugged. Jungwon glanced at your drink, then furrowed his eyebrows, “You been drinking?”

“It’s my first and probably last. We have school tomorrow, so even though I wanna fit in, I wanna keep my scholarship more than that.”

Jungwon chuckled at your words, “Smart girl, I guess. Wanna go downstairs?”

“We can, yeah,” you said.

Jungwon pushed himself off of the counter and led you back downstairs to the basement, but this time to the large crowd. They were all still sat in a circle, but the music was softer this time.

A couple of (assumed) teammates called out Jungwon’s name as he walked to find a spot in the circle, leading you with him. The two of you found a spot on one of the couches at the end. The spot had enough space for one person, but you and Jungwon squished to both be able to sit. He offered for you to sit on his lap, but you declined. The alcohol was making your face red enough.

You sat between Jungwon and one of his friends, Junhyuk, who everyone called “Win” for some reason. Assuming he played for a school team and was the star player, that would make sense. But you still thought it was weird nonetheless.

The conversation was still flying at a million miles per hour once you’d sat down, and you didn’t expect to really understand anything. Your main goal was to just sit there nicely and then go home once Jungwon left.

The last thing you’d expected to happen was Jungwon to slowly slither his right arm around your waist and place his hand on your hip nonchalantly. Your eyes widened at the occurrence, but Jungwon seemed unfazed.

Junhyuk was very obviously drinking and had been for some time, so when he leaned over jokingly and asked how “serious” you and Jungwon were, you weren’t exactly shocked that he’d made a comment about you two, especially given that your “relationship” was the most recently established.

A couple other people had overheard Junhyuk’s comment and laughed, causing Jungwon to raise an eyebrow at them.

“We’re very serious, Junhyuk, thank you for asking.” Jungwon commented with hints of snark in his voice, “And, also, thank you for hitting on my girlfriend! Just reminded me that I have the most beautiful woman this school has ever seen!”

“If she’s so pretty,” Junhyuk laughed, “why don’t you share? Especially if you know how much other people want her.”

You furrowed your eyebrows, there was no way he just said that. Another drunkard called from across the circle, “Jungwon, I’ll give you $40 if you trade places with me for the night.”

Jungwon’s pride turned into disgust within milliseconds, “My girlfriend is not an object. I will never let her around gross low-lives like you both if you ever say any bullshit like that again.”

Jungwon tightened his grasp around your waist. He then pulled you to be sitting on his lap, so that you wouldn’t have to be sitting next to Junhyuk anymore.

He whispered in your ear, “Sorry for making you come here.”

However, the boys’ drunk comments were deafened in comparison to the way Jungwon had your heart beating.

You were so fucked.

xii. BUT I DONT GET BORED

The final occurrence actually happened the following day during your math class.

Many of the people that you were mingling with the previous night decided not to go to school the following day — which would be today — and unluckily for you, you didn’t have that option, so you sat quietly in your Calculus class like normal.

Jungwon, to your surprise, had decided not to skip school like most of his friends and teammates, so he was sat quietly in your Calculus class, too.

Around two weeks prior, your teacher had decided to change up the seating chart of the classroom, sending Jungwon nearly all the way across the room from you.

You were almost 100% sure that it was because your teacher had seen the two of you passing notes during lectures, but because she never mentioned anything to the either of you, you couldn’t be sure.

You took a peek at where Jungwon was situated on the other side of the room just for you to notice him already looking at you.

You gave him a little smile, but then quickly turned to look at your teacher instead.

The AP tests for the majority of your classes had already happened, but your final AP exam was on the following Monday, which meant your teacher was doubling down on the review work and studying for you and your classmates.

Your teacher had randomly assigned everyone into either A team or B team, and today’s review session was to be a team vs. team test. You were hoping that by some miracle, Jungwon would get sorted into the same team as you; the two smartest people in the class — and in your whole grade, for that measure — being on the same team meant a guaranteed win for that team.

But, unluckily for you, he got assigned to B team, and you were stuck in A team. Once the sorting was complete, Jungwon caught your eye from across the room and mouthed a quick “sorry” while frowning.

You gave him a small smile that said “it’s okay” before turning to your teammates.

The desks had been pushed all together but separated in the middle (to distinguish between the two teams’ spaces) to create more space for everyone to “work together”.

You knew damn well in your mind that “working together” for your team most likely meant that they would make you (and maybe one other smart person if you were lucky) do all the equations and then just take credit for your work.

Your hunch was proven correct when you were onto your fourth problem in the process with the teams at 1-2. Your team was winning, but you were beginning to stress. If B team finished the equation first, the teams would be tied up.

Even though the exercise was supposed to be “fun”, it seemed to be fun for everyone except for you. The feeling of roughly 6 or 7 classmates breathing down your neck in wait of you finishing a problem only made you want a cry.

Moments later, a member from B team stood up and ran to the teacher to show her the answer and the work done. While all your classmates were watching in anticipation to see if she got the answer or not, you continued to work on the problem. You couldn’t join them in watching, because on the off chance that she made a mistake in her work, you needed to be prepared to swoop in with correctly done work at any moment.

Alas, to your dismay, your teacher chimed the bell that signified a correct answer.

One of your teammates gave you a dirty look.

Trying your best to ignore them, you focused onto the whiteboard and waited for your teacher to write down the final problem of the competition.

It didn’t take long for you to be reimmersed into the world of Calculus and try your hardest to finish the problem first. It wasn’t easy to focus when your teammates were breathing down your neck, though.

Roughly fifteen minutes later, you had nearly completed the problem when your opponent, Leehan, quickly ran up to your teacher to hand her the answer sheet with his work.

While she was grading the work, your teammate, Haruto, was urging you to finish while cursing under his breath at you, but not quietly enough for you to not be able to hear.

The bell chimed, signifying your team lost.

A cheer erupted from the other side of the classroom while Haruto snatched the paper from you and crumbled it up. He rolled his eyes, “Nice work, trailer trash. You’re more stupid than I thought.”

From the corner of your eye, you noticed Jungwon’s neck snap in Haruto’s direction.

While his team was cheering, Jungwon decided that instead of joining in, he would make sure he didn’t just hear what he thought he did from Haruto.

“What did you just call her, Watanabe?”

At this point, not only did you and Haruto notice Jungwon, but the majority of your teammates did, too. While some opted to pretend they didn’t see anything, some of the other ones turned their full attention to the interaction.

“Why do you give a fuck, Yang? You’re not on this team, so you shouldn’t even care that she made us lose. You won.”

“Maybe I did, but if you wanted to win, you should’ve helped her, instead of standing there like the bum that you are,” Jungwon scoffed, “because it’s no secret, Haruto, that you’re a lazy loser who rides off other people’s success to create your own.”

Haruto’s face morphed into an unrecognizable expression.

Jungwon continued, “In case you didn’t notice, your ‘personal math problem-solver’ here was doing the work with you breathing your hot breath down her neck.”

Catching more people’s attention now, he raised his voice a bit, “None of you did anything and you’re complaining that you lost. Y/N is lucky that exams are solo activities because she definitely won’t need any of you to rely on for answers. I’m glad that at least one person in this class is smart-”

Your teacher cut him off, “Yang Jungwon, that’s enough. Please go take a seat.”

Once Jungwon sat down, you couldn’t help yourself from sneaking a look at Haruto’s face, which hasn’t even changed a bit since Jungwon insulted him.

You laughed to yourself, thinking about Jungwon. Maybe losing wasn’t so bad after all if that was the result.

xiii. NEVER KNEW I COULD FEEL THIS MUCH

The sudden comfort that you had found in the man you once despised terrified you.

It terrified you so much to the point of you declining Wonyoung to a hang-out twice this weekend, for fear of Jungwon being there.

You were sure that by the third time, Wonyoung could tell what was up. So, it didn’t entirely surprise you when she showed up at your family’s apartment door that same night she texted you.

“You have a bit of explaining to do,” she started once you opened the door to her.

“Hello to you too.”

Wonyoung stepped past you to walk toward your room, you trailing behind her by a few paces. You watched as she sat herself right on your bed and sent you a look that said ‘sit here’.

Once you sat, she immediately started, “Why have you been avoiding hanging out with me?”

“I haven’t,” you lied through your teeth, “I’ve just been… busy.”

She furrowed her brows at you, “Busy with what? Your boyfriend?”

You tensed subconsciously at the word, but responded, “No… just school, I guess. Even though AP tests are over, I still have some schoolwork.”

Wonyoung squinted, “Like what?”

“Just… papers and stuff.”

“You’re a bad liar,” she complained, “but whatever. If you don’t want to tell me, that’s okay. I won’t prod.”

You nodded thankfully at her, looking away, “If it makes you feel any better, I haven’t seen any other friends.”

She laughed, rolling her eyes and standing up, “No, Y/N, that doesn’t make me feel any better. That makes me feel depressed on your behalf.”

You sent her an annoyed look.

“Anyway, since I’m already here, we should go do something. I miss my best friend.”

You smiled a little at her and also stood up.

As if on cue, you received a text from Jungwon:

Wanna go do something fun tonight?

xiv. LOST TRACK OF TIME AND SPACE

That Saturday after, you were once again with Minji and Gyuvin in your family’s apartment. This time, you weren’t being dramatic or even complaining about Jungwon. Instead, Minji decided to bring up the man herself.

“Y/N, I saw on your story last night that you went to a party.”

“Yeah,” you started, “I did, so what?”

“Since when are you a party person?” Gyuvin butted in, antagonizing you.

“I’m not, obviously,” you sighed, “I hid in the bathroom for most of it anyways. It was loud and obnoxious, and I only went because Jungwon asked me to go as his date.”

“Hm,” Minji hummed, “seems like he’s pretty serious about you, given that he asked you to go as his date to a party.”

“What’s even funnier is you went!” Gyuvin laughed from his spot on your bed.

“What’s so funny about that?” You interrogated, snapping your neck to look at him.

“Nothing, nothing.”

You shook your head at him, rolling your eyes slightly. Minji spoke next, “It is a bit funny. Y/N L/N, the well-known party-goer.”

“Look, I only went because he asked, okay? You guys both know damn well that I wouldn’t have gone otherwise.” You scoffed, surprised at their audacity.

Minji laughed, “And since when are you one to listen to what Yang Jungwon asks of you? The Y/N that I know wouldn’t have said yes in a million years.”

“It was important to him, okay,” You replied, “and he was insisting that I go. For public image reasons.”

“And now you care about what’s important to him,” Gyuvin piped up, “the plot thickens!”

You sighed, “It’s really not as big of a deal as you guys are making it out to be.”

“Listen, Y/N,” Gyuvin continued, “never did I ever think that you would ever go to a party, let alone with someone you claim to ‘hate’. I think you’re starting to like him.”

Minji laughed and you widened your eyes as you felt your face slightly flush at the thought. Was it that obvious?

“Oh my god, Gyuvin is totally right! Y/N, you liiiiike Yang Jungwon!” Minji sang to you.

“I do not,” you felt yourself retort like an elementary-aged school girl, “I do not! I swear it’s nothing. We’re just fake dating and that’s it.”

Minji kept laughing, “Sureeeee, Y/N. We both believe you!” She continued taunting you, high-fiving Gyuvin.

“You guys are so sick for this…” you grumbled, trying to push away your feelings for Jungwon further down.

“You’re just mad we’re never wrong,” Gyuvin said, “oh, and, by the way, you only have a week until you get your money.”

You felt your eyes slightly widen and your heart skip a beat or two.

Had time really flown by that quickly?

xv. HARDER TO HIDE THAN I THOUGHT

Two days had passed and you were scheduled to attend a double date with your “boyfriend”, Wonyoung, and Taesan. It was, pretty obviously, Wonyoung’s idea. But, because you didn’t want Jungwon to assume you suddenly hated him, you agreed to go.

Around an hour before the date, Jungwon suddenly texted you — “Hey, I’m omw to get you a bit early. I wanna talk before we see them” — and you felt your soul temporarily leave your body.

You and Jungwon hadn’t talked very often in the past week, because you had been avoiding him like the plague, trying to deny and drown out your feelings towards him.

Jungwon didn’t live too far from you, but it was far enough that you had at least fifteen minutes to freak out about his text message.

What could he possibly want? Was he going to confront you about avoiding him? What would you say, if that was the case?

You ran to the bathroom to touch up your outfit, makeup, and hair quickly, not wanting to present yourself badly in front of him. As in denial as you were, a small part of you knew that you did like the boy, and wanted to look pretty for him.

You were wearing a fairly plain outfit:

A white lace cami under a red short sleeve shirt, some secondhand baggy jeans, and some old clogs from your mother. You sported the look with an old (most likely faux) brown leather jacket from your father.

As for your hair, it was loosely braided into two braids and tied with a ribbon. You pulled some hair out to give it a more “effortless” look, but you were slightly afraid it came off as you trying too hard.

Your makeup was minimal, but this left you worried you did too little. You added slight highlights to the inner corners of your eyes to make them pop.

Arriving 10 minutes earlier than you anticipated, you heard a knock at the door, knowing immediately who it was. You looked over yourself one last time before leaving the bathroom.

As soon as you opened the door, Jungwon’s once grim face lit up at the sight of you, “You look nice.”

“Thanks, I like to think so too, sometimes.”

He scanned your whole body and face before slightly smiling. He cleared his throat before asking, “Ready to go?”

You nodded, shutting the apartment door behind you, not bothering to lock it, as both of your parents were home at the hour. You laughed slightly, “Where are you taking me?”

Jungwon, leading the way down the steps towards the bottom landing of the apartment building, turned back for a split second to say, “It’s a surprise.”

Roughly another fifteen minutes later, Jungwon parked his car. He unbuckled his seatbelt and said, “We’re here.”

You followed suit and once out of the car you looked around, “Where are we?”

“East Eden Park.”

Jungwon smiled at you as he started walking up a hill, beckoning for you to follow.

“Okay, why are we here?” You asked, your tone slightly laced with panic as you walked behind.

Jungwon looked over his shoulder at you, “I’ll explain when we get up to the top.”

Suddenly, you had the genius idea to beat him to the top. Smirking, you said, “Race you.”

Before Jungwon even had a second to register what you said, you took off up the hill and managed to get many paces ahead of him before he started running too.

To your surprise, you ended up beating him up the hill, to which you cheered in victory, “I win! I win! You suck!”

Jungwon laughed as he finally reached the top of the hill, “Okay, bragger.”

You settled down your laughing and cheering to take in the view around you, widening your eyes at the sight. It took your breath away momentarily, “Wow, this place is amazing. You can see the whole downtown area from here.”

“Isn’t it?” Jungwon asked, as he reached to be next to you.

The sun had just started to set over the horizon of the city, making the perfect spot to watch the sunset.

“This is oddly romantic,” you laughed, awkwardly, “thanks for taking me here.”

“You’re welcome. Will you take a seat on the grass so we can talk?”

You immediately sat down in your spot, “You don’t have to ask me that twice.”

Jungwon also sat next to you, so close that your hands almost touched. If not for the rules that you two had made, you would’ve reached and grabbed his hand. But deep down, you knew you’d strangle yourself if you ever broke the unspoken fifth rule:

Don’t catch feelings.

Sighing to yourself, you trained your sights on a familiar building. You nudged Jungwon, “Hey, did you know that’s where my dad works?”

“Wait, which one? Your pointing skills suck.”

“Right there, second to the right on the bottom. Big brown building.”

Jungwon squinted his eyes, still not seeing what you were talking about.

“Dude, the one at the very bottom. Not the gray one.”

Jungwon sighed, “I give up. I can’t see it.”

“Really?” You said, exasperated, “You can’t see the brown building that says ‘Armstrong & Dennis’ above it?”

“Ohhh, I know that one. My dad’s a shareholder in that company.”

You rolled your eyes playfully, “Great. Thanks for reminding me of our societal class difference.”

Jungwon chuckled, nudging you, “You know that’s not what I meant when I said that.”

“Yeah, whatever, rich boy,” you nudged him back, “So, why’d you bring me here?”

“Oh,” he said, reminded of the reason, “I wanted to talk, um, about next week.”

The words Minji and Gyuvin were teasing you with appeared back in your head:

Only one week.

You tensed slightly and laughed, “Oh, I forgot about that.”

He stayed silent.

“So… what did you want to exactly discuss?” You questioned, looking at him. His eyes were still trained on the sunset-stained skyline, not moving. You wondered what he was thinking about.

He broken his silence after a minute, “Just… logistics, I guess.”

“What logistics?” You asked, “I thought it was just that we would go to the dance together, and then ‘break-up’.”

“Well, yeah, but…” he trailed off, not even continuing his sentence.

“But?”

“Y’know what? Never mind. It doesn’t matter,” he sighed, finally looking at you, “because you’re right, we’ve already talked about it. Guess I’m just psyching myself out because I don’t know how Taesan and Wonyoung are going to react.”

“Understandable,” you said, “I mean, I do like hanging out with you though. Or, at least, when you’re nice to me. I’m sure we can stay friends after this whole fiasco is over.”

Jungwon took a long pause.

“Yeah… friends.”

You didn’t respond, instead opting to look at the way the sunset looked that evening, even taking out your phone to snap a photo of it.

You then got an idea, turning to Jungwon, “Wanna take a picture?”

He seemed genuinely surprised at your question, stuttering out a quick “sure” before posing next to you in your picture.

You flipped the camera to selfie mode and posed with a quick peace sign and slightly puckered lips. Jungwon copied your pose, but with a close-mouthed smile instead.

“Okay, wait, one more.” You insisted to him.

This time, you stuck your tongue out and widened your eyes, and he made a screaming face. You both laughed at the funny pictures before Jungwon got a call and picked it up swiftly.

“Yeah, we’re on our way.”

It was all he said before hanging up and standing up, “Hey, let’s go, or we’ll be late for dinner.”

“Okay, okay,” you said, pushing yourself off the ground and following Jungwon to his car.

The next ten minute drive was eerily silent. Not even comfortable silence, but instead a silence that felt like it was sitting on both of your chests— as if there was something that needed to be addressed, but you were both too afraid to acknowledge it.

You let out an unknowing breath of relief when you arrived at the restaurant where Wonyoung and Taesan were already waiting outside for the both of you.

As if on instinct, Jungwon grabbed your hand as you walked towards your friends at the door of the restaurant. You tried to pick up on their conversation, but it seemed like your mind was too foggy to even function that night, with nothing being able to even be clear.

However, there was one thing that night that couldn’t leave your mind:

Jungwon’s grip on your hand felt a little tighter than usual.

xvi. ARE YOU MINE?

One day before the dance, you were with Wonyoung in her family’s mansion and just hanging out as usual. Your conversations had been extremely honed in on the elephant in the room: the dance. Wonyoung tried on her expensive gown for you, and even asked you to help her style it. You two had practiced hairstyles, and even discussed when you would be coming over the following morning to get ready with her.

The dress you had bought was much less glamorous than hers, but even though she offered to let you borrow one of her “family event” dresses, you politely declined, insisting that you go with the dress you bought, because Jungwon liked the color.

Just as you were finishing up a hairstyle YouTube tutorial, you got a sudden call from Jungwon. You turned to Wonyoung, saying, “Hey, I’m gonna take this real quick.”

You walked out into her hallway and then into the guest bathroom to answer the phone.

As soon as you answered, he immediately started rambling, “Hey, Y/N, I know you’re with Wonyoung right now, but is there any way we can meet up late tonight? I have stuff I need to go over with you.”

Trying to understand him through his rambling, you just agreed, telling him to pick you up from Wonyoung’s at 10:30, which was in 15 minutes. You knew for a fact that Wonyoung wouldn’t care, because for one, she would be seeing you tomorrow morning anyways, and for two, you had planned on leaving at 10:30 anyways, but this time it would be Jungwon driving you, and not Wonyoung back home.

As soon as he heard your confirmation, Jungwon immediately hung up. You shook your head a bit, confused.

You walked back into Wonyoung’s room, letting her know that Jungwon would be coming to get you and drive you home. She nodded, still working on fixing her attempted hairstyle.

You went back to one of her mirrors and undid your hairstyle, not wanting to spoil your potential look for the following day, and also not wanting to look dressy from the face up, because you were wearing a baggy tee shirt, athletic shorts, and ankle socks, which would soon be joined by your sandals that were on the bottom floor.

Jungwon sent you a text — “I’m here” — which made you say goodbye to Wonyoung and tell her that you’ll see her tomorrow at 11am. She only waved “bye” as you left, still preoccupied with her hair.

As soon as you slipped out of the front door of the Jang’s, you were immediately met with Jungwon’s car. He rolled down the passenger window and said, “Get in.”

You yawned a bit as you opened the door, not even questioning where he was taking you.

Roughly five minutes went by and you both arrived at your location, which, to your surprise, was the same park that he took you to only a couple days ago.

“‘Welcome to Eden’…” you read the sign as you unloaded yourself from the car.

Jungwon said nothing as he trekked up the hill, leaving you to catch up once again. This time, however, you didn’t race him.

Once at the top of the hill, Jungwon immediately sat down, inviting you to join him. You complied in milliseconds.

A silence again filled the area between you two before you broke it:

“It’s so picture-esque here.”

Jungwon nodded next to you, the lights from the downtown illuminating his expression, which was unreadable.

“So…” you started, “why’d you bring me back here?”

Jungwon took a deep breath, “I just like it here.”

“Wow,” you teased, poking him, “trying to bring me to his favorite places before he breaks my heart. Such a tragic love story.”

You laughed at your own joke, but didn’t fail to notice how Jungwon remained expressionless.

He sighed, “Yeah…”

Another minute of silence befell the two of you, this time you being too afraid to break it.

Out of nowhere, Jungwon started, “Do you think we should keep doing this?”

Caught off guard, you asked “What?”

“Like, fake dating,” he said, “for Wonyoung and Taesan, of course. I feel like it’ll be suspicious if we break up the day after the dance.”

You furrowed your brow, not against the idea, but confused nonetheless, “Uh… sure. But how much longer?”

Jungwon pondered for a moment before coming to a conclusion, “Until it feels right.”

Not daring to turn your head to him, you stared into the abyss with the most confused look of your life, not even sure what to respond with. Instead you fell onto your back, opting to look at the stars above instead of the city ahead.

Shortly after, Jungwon followed suit.

He broke the silence first again, “Which constellation is your favorite?”

“Oh, I have no clue,” you said, genuinely thinking about it, “I don’t think I’ve put much time into thinking about it, honestly. Maybe the Southern Cross? It’s pretty easy to spot.”

Jungwon hummed next to you. Then he grabbed your hand and made you make a pointer finger, guiding it to where he wanted you to point, “Mine is Bootes. Can you see it? It’s right…” he moved your hand slightly, “…there.”

“Yeah… yeah, I think so.” You replied, squinting.

“Do you see the big star at the bottom? Its name is Arcturus.” He let go of your hand.

“I didn’t know you knew so much about astronomy,” you laughed, “it’s endearing.”

Jungwon chuckled, “My maternal grandpa worked for NASA. As crazy as it sounds, I was born from generational wealth.”

You smacked him teasingly, “You don’t say!”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” he said, “crazy that the spoiled rich kid was born this way. And both his parents, too.”

You nodded, “Crazy. Would’ve never guessed. But, question, why do you like Bootes?”

“Oh, mainly because of Arcturus,” he replied, “because I can almost guarantee that there’s some sort of other life out there.”

“Yeah,” you agreed, “do you think they’re smarter than us?”

“Maybe.”

“Cooler?”

“Definitely not.”

“Do you think there’s a parallel version of you and I that are doing the exact same thing right now?”

Jungwon paused, “I hope.”

You smiled, “Who do you think wins in a fight, you or alien you?”

“Oh,” he laughed, “I’d definitely win. No question about it.”

“How can you be so sure? What if their species is naturally taller and stronger?”

“I’m smarter.”

“Sure…” you said, “so does that mean alien me would beat human you? Or would you finally one-up me for once?”

Jungwon laughed loudly at your comment, “Wow… you think you’re so funny.”

You peeked at him and smiled to yourself before looking back at the stars and sighing, “I think I’m starting to like Bootes, too.”

Once back in Jungwon’s car, the silence was more comfortable than previous times. This time, it’s as if you’ve let your heart completely out of its cage of fear without actually telling Jungwon how you feel. This time, you’re sure that somewhere along the lines, you started to fall for him. This time, you knew that he meant something to you.

Halfway through the drive, Jungwon started to talk about his intergalactic arch-nemesis again and how he was sure that alien Jungwon was not as cool as human Jungwon.

“You two are essentially the exact same, though, just from different planets.” You said as a counter argument.

“Let me ask you this,” Jungwon replied, “Do you think you’re better than your alien self?”

You thought for a second before answering, “No. I am her and she is me. I’m sure she’s great.”

Jungwon laughed at your reply, “Okay, that was a pretty nice response.”

“Thank you,” you said, “I like to think highly of my alien self, because if she’s anything like me, she probably doesn’t think the highest of herself.”

Jungwon’s face got a bit more serious as he pulled onto your street, “What do you mean?” He turned down the radio.

“Oh, I, uh,” you stumbled over your words, “I didn’t mean to turn this into a pity party or anything, just…”

He parked the car and only looked at you.

“I’m sorry,” you laughed awkwardly, “that got depressing quick.”

“No worries,” he reassured, grabbing your hand and surprising you, “why don’t you think the highest of yourself?”

“Jungwon,” you said, uncomfortable, “you’re not my therapist. No need to worry about me-”

“No,” he cut you off, “I want to know. I mean, if anything, you’re miles smarter than me.”

You laughed a bit, “Um, thanks. But intelligence isn’t everything.”

He nodded, “Go on.”

“It’s just,” you started, “nothing really. It just sucks being the absolute poorest person at your school. No matter how high I score, or how hard I work, no one sees that. They just see my class background.”

Jungwon studied your face, “I’m sorry.”

“Wha-” you sputtered, “Why are you apologizing? It’s not like you were the one who did it! Well…” you paused, “actually you did. But that was a while ago. I basically already forgot.”

Jungwon doesn’t break his stare, “I wish I could help.”

You felt your heart race faster in your chest as you locked eyes with him, “Really… it’s okay. I swear.”

Something about the way that he was looking at you had you frozen. Sure, Jungwon had made questionable comments in the past, but nothing as simple as this specific look. You weren’t sure what it was.

Your eyes flickered down to his hand, still holding yours. You felt your heart rate pick up as you realized the proximity you were in.

As if nothing happened, Jungwon slowly tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear and looked at you like you were the only person on earth.

You felt your mind start to go fuzzy as you thought about him.

In that moment, it felt like you two were the only people alive to feel anything. It felt like all the world’s people’s emotions had swirled around the two of you, catching you in a deadly storm, of which neither of you wanted to escape.

In that moment, you felt everything and nothing all at once.

In that moment, it was just Jungwon.

And in that moment, you took the risk to lean into him softly place your lips on his.

The months of secret yearning spilled into the car and into the kiss. Before you could even realize what happened, you pulled away.

You were terrified. You swallowed deeply and looked at Jungwon, who seemed equally as shocked. You then mumbled a quiet “goodbye” as you left his car and ran into your family’s apartment complex.

You didn’t look back to watch him drive away silently.

xvii. NEITHER OF US PLANNED IT

You knew you were screwed. You knew you were plainly, simply, just screwed.

There was no one you could talk about last night with. Wonyoung already thought you had been dating Jungwon for some time now, and Minji and Gyuvin knew you two weren’t actually together. If you told them what happened, you were almost 100% sure you would never hear the end of it.

You obviously wouldn’t talk to Jungwon about it, either. Why the fuck would you talk about the elephant in the room to the elephant in the room?

You’d been freaking out all morning and nothing was easing your mind. One way or another, you’d have to face Jungwon today. You were nearly sick to your stomach thinking about it.

You were already at Wonyoung’s, but you were silently freaking out in her guest bathroom while she was getting ready. You almost threw up while you thought about the night to unfold. Your hands were sweaty, stomach sick, and head hurting. You weren’t sure how you’d survive the evening.

You took a deep breath and walked back into Wonyoung’s room, her already finishing her makeup and hair, still dressed in her pajamas, as putting the dress on was the last step.

She turned her head to you with a concerned expression as you trudged through the door, not even trying to hide your emotions at this point.

“What’s wrong, drama queen?” She asked, looking over her shoulder at you.

You sighed dramatically into her mattress after flopping yourself loudly onto it.

“Okay…” she laughed, “Well if you want to talk about it, I’m here.”

“I just hate emotions.” You grumbled.

She laughed again, “Okay, me too. Wanna tell me why?”

You groaned, “No.”

Roughly an hour and half later, you two were both ready to be picked up by your dates. Before the dance, there were pictures to be taken, and a dinner to be eaten, and then you could finally go to the dance, which started at 7:30.

Taesan and Wonyoung chattered in the front seat while you and Jungwon remained dead silent, not even looking at each other.

The car ride stayed exactly like that during the twenty minute drive.

Once you all arrived at the park to take pictures, you lifted yourself out of the car and walked to wherever Taesan and Wonyoung were leading.

At the pavilion, you took the time to fix some strands of your hair and flatten any creases in your dress, which was blue, Jungwon’s favorite color.

Even though you were originally standing alone, Jungwon soon made his way towards you. He cleared his throat awkwardly, “You, uh… you dress well for the occasion.” You could tell that he was flustered, but you’d be lying if you didn’t admit that you were too. You were just glad he didn’t bring up the incident from the night prior.

You laughed shyly, “I mean, of course. I was planning on getting my heart broken tonight after all.”

“I mean, we did agreed to keep this act going,” he replied, “We can’t have me breaking your heart while you look so pretty.”

Your heart started racing like you’d just ran a marathon. Trying to stay calm, all you could muster back was “thanks”.

Some pictures and a dinner later, you and your group arrived at the location where the dance would be held, which was none other than the downtown’s Music Hall.

As you walked in with Wonyoung, you tried to take in everything that you could, from architectural designs to the art on the ceilings to the over-the-top decorations that Ivy Hills had created for the event.

It didn’t take long for her to grab your hand and pull you along to talk with some of her friends, one of them including Park Minju, who you’d first met around a month ago.

You surprisingly relaxed a lot during the dance, having expected the DJ to only play classy songs, but you were entirely shocked when Fire Burning by Sean Kingston blasted through the speakers.

Around half an hour later, you found yourself on a balcony from the top floor of the venue, needing some fresh air after sweating as much as you did. You didn’t expect to dance as much as you did, but nonetheless you still needed a break.

It was a lot colder outside than you’d anticipated it to be, somehow forgetting that the sun had already set. You didn’t really mind, though, as you were too lost in thought to even pay any attention to the weather.

Almost exactly a minute later, you heard an all-too-familiar voice from behind you. He slowly approached to stand next to you and asked, “Are you okay?”

You nodded, too lost in thought to really acknowledge him, “Yeah.”

“What’s up?”

“Just…” you finally looked at him, “just a lot going on right now.”

He chuckled a bit, “I get it.”

A comfortable silence fell over the two of you as he tried to mimic your body language.

From inside the venue, your ears perked up at the sound of the DJ announcing the first slow song of the night, to which you groaned.

“What?” Jungwon questioned.

“Slow songs are just soooo corny. Especially at dances. It’s always either ‘Perfect’ by Ed Sheeran or ‘A Thousand Years’ by Christina Perri or ‘I Can’t Help Falling in Love With You’ by Elvis.”

Jungwon shook his head in disbelief, “So you don’t like slow dancing?”

“It’s not that I don’t like slow dancing,” you replied, “the songs are just overplayed and corny.”

“I mean…” he started, “I completely disagree. I think it’s romantic. But, okay.”

“Of course you wouldn’t get it,” you retaliated, “you’ve never been to a public school dance. PDA is off the charts. It’s gross.”

“I’m sure of it,” he replied, “but PDA is off the charts here, too. You just don’t see it because these weirdos go hide in the unisex bathrooms and-”

“Ew,” you cut him off, “ew, okay. Stop there please.”

Jungwon laughed loudly, “Listen, this is how I can tell you only know the surface of private schools.”

“Yeah, and maybe I’d like to keep it that way. We’re graduating this month anyway, and I’ll never have to see anyone here again if I don’t want to.”

“Sounds like a dream,” he said, “where are you going for school?”

“I haven’t committed anywhere yet, is that bad?” You winced.

“No,” he assured, “definitely not. My parents wanted me to go to Yale but I ended up on Brown. Took me months to choose between Brown and UCLA.”

“Oh my god,” you laughed, “I got rejected from UCLA. I’m stuck between MIT and Brown. Yale accepted me, but they didn’t offer me enough. There’s no way in Hell that I’m paying twenty thousand a semester.”

“Yale didn’t even waitlist me,” Jungwon sighed, “my parents were so mad. Their next choice was Princeton or Brown, so I chose Brown to make them happy.”

“My parents just wanted me to go to the state school,” you said, “…good ‘ol Virginia Tech.”

“Not a bad school,” he answered, “but I understand your parents’ concerns. Moving out of state is hard. You’re their only child, too.”

“Yeah,” you shrugged, “I understood why. But I don’t think they understand how important education is to me… I don’t know.”

Jungwon smiled, “Well, if you go to Brown, just know you’ll have a friend there.”

You smiled back at him.

Noticing the song was over, you muttered, “Thank god.”

Just then, through the speakers, you heard the opening violin notes to one of your favorite childhood songs that your dad used to play for you on his CD player: ‘Come On Eileen’ by Dexy’s Midnight Runners.

You gasp in excitement, “I’d much rather dance to something like this.”

Jungwon laughed at your reaction, “Well, then can I have this dance?”

You tried to fight your smile, “Why yes, you can.”

Jungwon stuck out his hand to you, but instead of you grabbing it to slow dance, you linked his arm with yours and started making him do a strange folk dance with you, making him spin and dip you, and trying to convince him to let you dip him, but with no success.

Just as the song started, it ended. The DJ announced over the speakers that the king and queen of the ball would soon be announced.

Without saying a word, you followed Jungwon into the building and down the steps, towards where the crowd was forming.

To no one’s surprise, the queen was announced to be Wonyoung, and her king to be Taesan.

As they did their dance, you leaned towards Jungwon and whisper-shouted sarcastically, “Who would’ve seen this coming?”

He laughed at your comment and replied, “Right?”

A moment passes before he leans over again and asks, “Do you wanna go get something to drink with me? I need some water.”

You nodded and followed him back up the steps to the second floor where there were still people, but much less crowded than the bottom floor.

As he was walking, he looked over his shoulder at you and said, “I can finally hear myself think now.”

Once he got his water, you both retreated back to the initial balcony that he found you on earlier in the night. The silence was comforting, and you caught yourself trapped in your thoughts again.

Out of nowhere, Jungwon suddenly broke the silence:

“Did that kiss mean anything to you yesterday?”

Completely caught off guard, you replied, “Huh?”

Without missing a beat, he explained, “Like, when I dropped you off yesterday. Did that mean anything to you? I’m just confused ‘cause- I mean, I know it wasn’t for show. It was only the two of us in the car. I- I just want to know.”

You took a second to even process what he said to you. Sure, it was inevitable that he was eventually going to bring it up. But you didn’t think now was the moment, especially so soon.

Trying to find the right words, you responded, “Oh, um… I don’t know if this is a conversation we should have here and now… I mean… there’s people around and…”

Jungwon nodded stiffly.

“I…” you trailed off, “I think I’m going to go back downstairs.”

And just like that, you left Jungwon alone again.

xviii. ROLLER-COASTER KINDA RUSH

For the next few hours of the dance, you didn’t see Jungwon at all. In fact, he didn’t even ride with you, Taesan, and Wonyoung to Wonyoung’s afterparty. You were starting to worry that by you deflecting the conversation earlier, he took it as a rejection.

The next time you saw Jungwon was an hour into Wonyoung’s afterparty. You caught the slightest glimpse of him in the kitchen, but just as you’d seen him, he’d disappeared from your sight. You were beginning to believe you had started hallucinating him from how much he was driving you crazy.

However, once outside, you’d seen Jungwon’s car parked on the street across from Wonyoung’s mansion, and sighed in relief when you realized you weren’t actually losing your mind.

Near the end of the afterparty, Jungwon snuck up on you.

“Hey.”

You jumped, startled from the sudden appearance, “Hey. I haven’t seen you all night.”

His only response was a simple and short “yeah”. Before you both fell into an uncomfortable silence.

A couple of seconds later, Jungwon asked you, “Do you want a ride home?” He held up his keys.

You smiled at the gesture, knowing that otherwise, you’d have to find someone else to drive you home, and although Taesan drove you there, and he’d likely be staying the night, leaving you to fend for yourself.

“Sure.”

With the party already dying down, you made sure to say goodbye to Wonyoung and thank her for hosting. You gave her a small hug and watched as Jungwon dapped up Taesan.

The both of you walked to Jungwon’s car in silence down the driveway.

However, this time, you decided to bite the bullet:

“I think we should talk about what happened yesterday.”

You noticed Jungwon almost freeze in his spot for a second but he continued walking to his car.

All he could mutter out was another “yeah”.

Once you reached his car, he quickly put it in gear and started driving you home.

Jungwon didn’t say anything until he almost reached your apartment. He parked his car on the street, and got out to walk you to your door.

He sighed, yet started, “Listen, I know you’re getting paid from this. But we never needed to kiss to seal the deal…” he trailed off, “so I really don’t understand why that was a necessary part to the whole act and-”

“That wasn’t about the money.” You cut him off.

Jungwon slowly turned to look at you, confused, “What?”

“It-” you stumbled over your words, “it stopped being about the money a while ago.”

A small and barely audible “oh” escaped his lips, with an unreadable face.

“I-” you started, “I- I know that we’re supposed to sell this,” you motioned between the two of you, “thing for a long longer. I know that because we both agreed on it. But…” you trailed off, not sure what to say next.

You took a deep breath, “But what I say next might change the trajectory of this… friendship…” you shook your head, “…or whatever this is.”

Jungwon said nothing.

“But the truth is, I-” you sighed, defeated, “I kissed you because I wanted to kiss you. Not because of the stupid money, and not because of the validation I’d get from Wonyoung and Taesan.”

He stood still, motionless, still with an indecipherable expression.

Nearly to tears with frustration and stress, you continued, “I kissed you because… because I felt like it was right in the moment. And- and it’s okay if you don’t feel that way. And if that is the case, then I’m sorry for kissing you and making things weird between us.”

Sighing one last time, “And I know the unspoken rule of this whole thing was to not have any actual feelings for each other, but-”

“Y/N.” Jungwon cut you off.

Afraid that you went overboard, you muttered sheepishly, “…what?”

“Please,” he said, taking a step closer, “please, stop talking.”

You frowned, “Did I say too much?”

“No,” he laughed, “but if you never stop rambling, I won’t be able to tell you how I feel.”

“Um,” you said quietly, “sorry, what?”

You weren’t sure exactly what Jungwon meant by ‘telling you how he felt’ but you were nearly bracing yourself for the worst. You decided to keep quiet as to not disturb him.

“I want you to know something right off the bat,” he started, “okay?”

You nodded but still didn’t say anything.

“It was never about Wonyoung and Taesan for me,” he laughed, “Hell, I’m the reason that we were all forced to hang out, the four of us.”

He sighed, “Y/N, I’ve always admired you, but I never knew how to deal with it. Why? Because in all of my life, I have never had a girl distract me from school as badly as you did.”

Your eyes widened at the confession.

“The only reason that I’m ranked 2nd in math for our class is because you are 1st,” he continued, “And I used to really hate you for it, because who did this pretty girl think she was, coming into my school and usurping me of my top rank in the class?!”

You felt yourself flush at the compliment, but tried to stay as calm as possible.

Jungwon calmed down, “But… at a point, I realized that you never did it to spite me, and you were genuinely just that smart. Then, I got over myself.”

You nodded with furrowed eyebrows.

“But,” he sighed, “I knew I had already pushed your buttons so hard to the point that I really thought there would be no point of return…”

“…So, when you brought up the idea of fake dating me, I immediately said no, because I knew it wouldn’t end well for me,” Jungwon laughed bittersweetly, “But then you challenged me. And I love a challenge.”

You felt your heart flutter at his words, now noticing how closely he was standing to you. You opened your mouth to try and form a response, but the only thing that you said came out in a whisper:

“Wow… I don’t know what to say.”

He smiled brightly at you, grabbing your hand.

“I don’t think words can be used in this moment.”

As if he’d been doing it forever, Jungwon wrapped one arm around your waist and let the other cup your head. Slithering your arms around his back, you stood on your tippy toes.

This time, you knew you wouldn’t run away from his kiss.

a/n : aaaand it’s over meow meow meow sorry for the long wait but it seemed like life hasn’t been on my side for the past year. hope u guys enjoyed tho <3 this was a bit too happy ending for me and not nearly enough angst but whateva

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shybluebirdninja · 6 months ago

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Public Heat

Summary: Logan’s wild side takes over as he fucks you onto the balcony.

Pairing : Logan Howlett x Human!Fem-reader Note : exhibitionism sex, smut

The cool night air hit your skin, but the heat between you and Logan was enough to set the whole city on fire. You barely had time to think before you were pushed up against the railing of your balcony, Logan’s rough hands already pulling at your clothes, his growl rumbling through the darkness.

“Logan, we’re—” you started, glancing down at the street below, the lights of the city glowing, people walking by completely unaware of what was about to happen. But Logan didn’t care. He wasn’t the type to give a damn about who could see or who might hear. In fact, the thought of it seemed to turn him on more.

“You worried about a little audience, sweetheart?” he rasped into your ear, his voice dripping with that familiar roughness that always sent a shiver down your spine. His hands gripped your waist, spinning you around until your chest was pressed against the cold metal railing. The city was spread out below you like a playground, and here you were, at the mercy of this feral man.

Before you could say anything, Logan’s hands were on you again, tugging at your pants, rough and impatient, and you couldn’t help but moan as he peeled them down. The cool night air hit your exposed skin, a stark contrast to the heat burning inside you, but you didn’t care. Not when Logan was behind you, his body pressed so close, his breath hot against your neck.

“You’re soaked already,” he growled, his hands running over your bare ass, squeezing possessively. “You like this, huh? Knowing anyone could look up and see you get fucked by me.”

You could barely respond, your mind spinning from the intensity, but your body gave him all the answers he needed. You pushed back against him, craving more, craving everything, and Logan’s low, dirty chuckle told you that he knew exactly what you wanted.

“That’s my girl,” he muttered, and before you could catch your breath, he slammed his dick into you, hard and deep. The force of it made you gasp, your hands gripping the railing for dear life as Logan started moving, not caring at all who might be watching.

The way he fucked you was wild, reckless, like he couldn’t hold back anymore, and the thought of people walking below, just a glance up and they’d see you like this, only made it hotter. Logan’s hands gripped your hips, pulling you back to meet his thrusts, and the sound of skin slapping against skin filled the air. You could barely think, barely breathe, the only thing you could focus on was the way he felt inside you, the way he owned every inch of your body.

“Goddamn, you’re fuckin’ perfect,” Logan growled, his voice rough with lust. His hands slid up your back, pushing your chest further against the railing, arching you even more so he could bury himself deeper, harder. “You love this, don’t you? Letting everyone see how good you take it.”

You moaned, your body shaking with the intensity of it all, and Logan’s pace only quickened, his cock slamming into you over and over, making sure you felt every inch of him. The thrill of being so exposed, knowing anyone could see, made it impossible to hold back, and you could feel your orgasm building fast, your body tightening around him.

“Fuck, Logan,” you gasped, barely able to form words, but Logan wasn’t stopping, wasn’t slowing down. He was relentless, his hands gripping your hips so hard you were sure there’d be bruises tomorrow. But that was the last thing on your mind now.

The tension in your body snapped, and you came hard, your legs trembling as waves of pleasure crashed over you. Logan growled in satisfaction, his hips slamming into you one last time as he chased his own release. You could feel him throbbing inside you, and then, with a deep, primal grunt, he came, filling you up as he held you tight against the railing.

For a moment, neither of you moved, just standing there, bodies pressed together, both of you trying to catch your breath. The sounds of the city below seemed distant, almost unreal, as you slowly came down from the high of it all.

Logan leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear as he chuckled softly. “Think anyone saw?”

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22ayla21 · 30 days ago

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Flame of Farewell

Mydei x Trailblazer! Reader

In the warm twilight of the guest room, the private bathhouse that Aglaea had provided for the guests from the sky, Mydei stood on the balcony, looking at the new comrades who had come from the sky. Here, in luxury and peace, he found no relief. The sun bathed the snow-white buildings in golden light, reflected in the calm waters of the baths, but his thoughts hovered far beyond this beautiful place.

Dan Heng, Stella and her. The one who had stolen his heart. She was here, so close, and yet... how unpleasantly his heart ached with the knowledge that perhaps they were not destined to be together. Not now. Not when he had accepted the flame of Nikador's core and become a demigod.

This was his burden. His duty. And feelings... Well, was he to complain? He had been through wars, betrayals, an eternity of pain. And now, when for the first time in many years his heart began to beat differently, he had to leave it behind.

But before he went—before fate separated them completely—he had to do it. Confess? No. He had never been a man of words. But to leave a mark, an imprint, that would prove that she was more than just someone to him...

Deciding that now was better than never, he turned and stepped toward her. The girl, as if sensing that he had not yet said everything he wanted, waited patiently, arms crossed. He slowed his pace, looking her over appraisingly, as if he were back on the battlefield.

She looked straight into his eyes—without fear, without hesitation. He remembered their sparring. Her blows—quick, precise. Not a drop of hesitation, despite the fact that her opponent was a monster in combat. Her gaze—burning, defiant, despite the inevitable defeat. Most people shied away from him. They knew that he was a monster—a savage who drank the blood of his enemies and carried within him a power beyond comprehension. But she... She did not retreat.

Her tenacity irritated him. Enchanted him. Intoxicated him.

He reached out, ran his fingers over her cheek, feeling the roughness of her skin, warm from the sun, with his pads. She did not move, but her breathing became deeper, more noticeable. In that moment, he realized that words were not necessary.

Mydei pulled her sharply to him, running his fingers through her hair, and, leaving no time for doubt, covered her lips with his.

The kiss was neither gentle nor careful. It was furious, demanding - just like he was. Everything that he could not express burned in him. His farewell. His confession. His inability to choose her instead of his destiny.

He felt she shudder, but did not pull away. On the contrary, her fingers tightened on his chest. Her lips parted to meet him, answering him. For a moment, in this kiss there were only the two of them - no duty, no gods, no damned core that burned him from within.

When he pulled away, she was slightly flushed, her breath was ragged, and there was a fire in her eyes that he knew she carried now because of him. Mydei grinned, boldly, self-assuredly. He didn’t say a word, but he didn’t have to. That look said it all: “You are now a part of me. Just as I am now a part of you.”

He turned and walked away, leaving her in the warm semi-darkness of the bathhouse, among the water that lazily swayed in the sunlight.

The girl ran her fingers over her lips, feeling the residual warmth of his kiss. Her heart was beating in her chest, hard, furiously. She understood what he had done. That this moment was a farewell.

But he didn’t think it was that simple, did he?

A quiet laugh escaped her lips. She could still feel his warmth on her skin, that unyielding pressure with which he had burst into her world. She knew that she would meet him again.

#honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #hsr #mydei #mydei x reader #hsr mydei #mydeimos

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writeriguess · 1 month ago

Note

Omg, your Bakugo fic Heart of Dynamite was so good!! Had me all up in my feels lol.

Here's an idea for you: Fem!reader and Katsuki are good friends and they have undeniable chemistry, but neither have acknowledged it or what it means. But reader get severely injured in a villain attack and ends up in the hospital fighting for her life. Katsuki finally admits to himself that he does in fact love her and desperately pleads for her to wake up so he can tell her.

Happy ending of course, and first kiss? ♡

author's note: Thank you <3

What It Means

The city was in chaos.

You barely had time to catch your breath before another wave of civilians came at you, their eyes glazed over, movements jerky yet disturbingly determined. Their screams echoed through the ruined streets, a mixture of agony and forced rage, as they lunged at you with makeshift weapons—bricks, pipes, even their own bare hands.

It was all because of him.

“You heroes are so predictable,” the villain sneered, his voice dripping with amusement. He stood on a crumbling rooftop, the tattered ends of his coat fluttering in the wind. “All this power, yet you hesitate. You can’t even fight back properly, can you?”

Your grip on your weapon tightened. He wasn’t wrong. That was the worst part. The civilians—these people—were innocent. You couldn’t just cut through them like any other enemy. The hesitation, the careful dodging, the constant effort to subdue instead of hurt… It slowed you down. It slowed everyone down.

And the bastard knew it.

“I could end this right now,” he continued, stretching his arms behind his head lazily. “One little command, and they all turn on each other instead. Imagine that… You wouldn’t even have to get your hands dirty. They’d do all the work for me.”

A furious blast of fire shot past your shoulder, barely missing your head. Katsuki landed beside you, his palms still smoking, teeth bared in a vicious snarl. “Why don’t you come down here and say that, freak?”

The villain laughed, a grating sound that made your skin crawl. “Oh, Bakugou, Bakugou, Bakugou… Always so brash. So explosive. But even you know you can’t just blow them up. That’d make you no better than me.”

Katsuki’s growl was low and dangerous, his body tense like he was barely holding himself back. You knew he was struggling, just like you. Every hero in the field was. The battle was turning into a nightmare.

More civilians attacked. You moved on instinct, twisting around a woman swinging wildly at you with a crowbar, disarming her with a precise strike to the wrist. She crumpled, unconscious but unharmed. A man charged next, screaming incoherently, his pupils blown wide with unnatural bloodlust. You dodged, swept his legs out from under him, and knocked him out with a quick chop to the back of the neck.

But the numbers didn’t stop. For every one you took down, three more surged forward.

Katsuki blasted them back with controlled explosions, never enough to burn, just to incapacitate. But even he was breathing harder, his usual reckless abandon curbed by the damn situation.

“We’re getting nowhere like this,” you muttered, shifting into a defensive stance as more enthralled civilians surrounded you.

“No shit,” he snapped, glancing at the rooftop. The villain was still there, watching, smirking.

Then he moved.

A blur.

Before you could react, a force slammed into you like a freight train.

Your body was airborne.

The world spun.

The impact knocked the air from your lungs as you crashed through a shattered storefront, glass slicing through your hero suit and biting into your skin. You barely had time to register the pain before the villain was on you, his hand around your throat, yanking you up.

“Tch,” he scoffed, tilting his head. “You’re pretty, you know that? A shame you’re on the wrong side.”

You struggled, gripping his wrist, but his strength was monstrous. His fingers tightened, and the edges of your vision blurred.

A roar—familiar, raw, furious—pierced through the haze.

Then boom.

Katsuki’s explosion sent the villain flying, his grip loosening just enough for you to suck in a ragged breath. You collapsed to your knees, coughing, the taste of iron heavy on your tongue.

“Oi,” Katsuki was at your side in an instant, gripping your arm. His hands were trembling. “You okay?”

You nodded, barely. Lying. You felt like you’d been hit by a truck.

The villain was already back on his feet, dusting himself off like he hadn’t just been blown halfway across the street.

“You two have chemistry,” he mused, cracking his neck. “Unspoken tension. How tragic it’ll be when one of you dies.”

Katsuki moved before he finished the sentence, his explosions roaring through the air. The villain dodged at impossible speeds, weaving through Katsuki’s attacks like water slipping through fingers.

And then—

Pain.

Blinding.

A scream tore from your throat before you even understood what had happened.

Blood.

It pooled at your feet, warm and sticky, seeping through your fingers as you clutched your side. A deep, jagged wound carved into you, muscle torn apart. Your legs gave out, and you collapsed.

Your vision blurred, darkened.

Distantly, you heard Katsuki roar your name.

More explosions. More screams. A battle raging on without you.

You were lifted. Strong arms cradled you against a warm, trembling chest. The familiar scent of smoke and sweat and him wrapped around you.

Katsuki was running. Running like the world was ending. His heart thundered beneath your ear, fast, erratic.

“Stay awake,” he barked, his voice raw, desperate.

You wanted to. You tried. But the pain was so much. The darkness pulled harder.

“Damn it, don’t you fucking—” His voice cracked.

You swore you felt something warm drip onto your cheek.

The last thing you heard before everything faded was him whispering your name, over and over, like he could hold you together just by saying it.

Then—nothing.

The world was cold.

Distant.

Muted beeps echoed through the silence, rhythmic and steady. The scent of antiseptic filled the air, sharp and clinical. Soft murmurs, the shuffle of footsteps, the quiet hum of machines keeping you tethered to life.

You didn’t feel the pain anymore. Not really. Just a dull, distant ache that existed somewhere far away from where you were.

But outside of the void swallowing you whole, the world was still moving.

Katsuki hadn’t moved from his chair in hours.

His elbows rested on his knees, his hands clasped together so tightly his knuckles were white. His eyes—red and rimmed with exhaustion—stared straight ahead at the unmoving form on the hospital bed. At you.

Wires and tubes. Machines and bandages. Bruises and pale, lifeless skin.

He felt sick.

It had been two days. Two fucking days since you collapsed in his arms, since he carried you out of that nightmare, screaming at the paramedics to do something. Two days since he watched them work frantically to stop the bleeding, saw your heartbeat nearly flatline before they finally stabilized you.

Two days since you slipped into a coma.

The doctors said you were strong. That you had a chance. That you just needed time.

But every second that passed without you waking up felt like another piece of him was being ripped away.

He exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down his face. His fingers trembled, but he clenched them into fists before the shaking could take hold.

He wasn’t going to lose you.

The door creaked open. He didn’t look up. Didn’t acknowledge the quiet footsteps that entered the room.

“Bakugou.”

It was Kirishima. His voice was soft, careful, like he was afraid of setting Katsuki off.

Katsuki didn’t answer.

“You should eat something,” Kirishima tried again. “Rest. You’ve been here since—”

“I’m not leaving.”

A pause. A sigh. “She wouldn’t want you to—”

“I said I’m not leaving.”

Kirishima didn’t argue. He just pulled up a chair and sat beside him, resting his arms on his knees as they both stared at you.

“…She’ll wake up,” Kirishima said, voice steady. “She’s too stubborn not to.”

Katsuki swallowed hard, his jaw tight. He wanted to believe that. He needed to believe that.

But the longer you lay there, motionless and silent, the more the fear sank in.

What if you never opened your eyes again?

What if the last thing he ever said to you was yelled in the heat of battle, instead of—

His hands clenched. His throat burned.

He hadn’t said it. Not once. Not even when he wanted to.

And now, you might never hear it.

The days blurred together.

Katsuki refused to leave. The nurses tried, Kirishima tried, hell, even Deku had the audacity to show up and tell him to take care of himself. But none of them mattered. The only thing that mattered was you.

He stayed by your side, watching, waiting, silently willing you to wake up.

You didn’t.

Your body healed. The doctors were hopeful. But you still weren’t there.

And it was killing him.

He wanted to hear your voice. To see you roll your eyes at one of his grumbled complaints, to feel you nudge his arm when he was being too much of an ass. He wanted you to fight back, to argue with him, to be you again.

But most of all—

He wanted to tell you.

It had been clawing at his chest for days now, twisting and burning, suffocating him with the weight of everything he’d been too much of a coward to say.

So he finally did.

It was late, the hospital quiet except for the beeping of the machines and the distant murmur of night-shift nurses in the hall. The room was dimly lit, casting long shadows across the floor. Katsuki sat hunched over in the chair beside your bed, his forehead resting against his clasped hands.

He exhaled shakily. “This is bullshit.”

His voice was rough, hoarse from lack of sleep, but he kept going.

“You’re just laying there, like some weak-ass extra, when I know you’re stronger than this. It’s pissing me off.”

Silence.

Katsuki sucked in a breath, his throat tightening. His fingers curled around the edge of the bed.

“I—” He hesitated, gritting his teeth before forcing the words out. “I can’t do this shit without you.”

The admission made his chest ache. But it was true.

He’d spent so long ignoring it, shoving it down, pretending the pull between you was nothing more than friendly chemistry, that his need to be around you was just habit.

But the truth had been staring him in the face this entire time. He’d just been too damn scared to see it.

“I should’ve said it sooner.” His voice was raw now, unsteady. “I was a fucking coward. Thought if I ignored it, if I just kept things the way they were, it’d be fine. But it wasn’t fine. And now you’re here, and I—”

His hand found yours, warm fingers curling around your still ones.

His grip tightened.

“I love you,” he whispered, the words barely more than breath.

He bowed his head, pressing his forehead against your hand. “So wake up. Please.”

Another pause. Another silence. Another beat of the machines.

And then—

A twitch.

His breath caught. His head snapped up, eyes locked on your fingers as they twitched again, just barely, but enough.

His heart slammed against his ribs. “Oi,” he rasped, standing so fast the chair scraped against the floor. “Oi.”

A flutter of eyelashes. A sharp inhale.

Then, finally—

Your eyes opened.

Dazed. Confused. Blinking sluggishly against the dim light.

But open.

Something inside Katsuki broke. Relief hit him like a punch to the gut, so intense it made his knees weak.

“About damn time,” he muttered, voice rough with something he refused to call tears.

Your gaze slowly focused on him, and the second recognition flickered in your tired eyes, he was done for.

You opened your mouth, but your voice came out cracked, barely there. “Did I—”

“You almost died.” His grip on your hand tightened. “Don’t ever do that again.”

A weak smirk tugged at your lips. “Wasn’t exactly my plan, Bakugou.”

His heart clenched. He hadn’t heard your voice in so long.

He should’ve said something witty back, should’ve snapped at you like normal, but his body moved before his brain could catch up.

His hand cupped your face, and he was so close, warmth radiating from him, breaths mingling. His thumb brushed against your cheek, lingering for just a second longer than necessary.

Then, carefully—almost hesitant—he kissed you.

Soft. Gentle. Uncharacteristically tender.

You exhaled against his lips, fingers weakly reaching up to tangle in his shirt.

When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, breaths still uneven.

“You better not make me say that shit again,” he muttered.

You smiled—tired, but real. “Say what?”

His lips twitched. “You know what.”

You closed your eyes briefly, still exhausted, but when you spoke again, your voice was warm.

“I love you too, dumbass.”

Katsuki let out a sharp exhale, relief and something softer settling deep in his chest.

“Damn right you do.”

#bakugou katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #katsuki x reader #bakugou x y/n #bakugou x you #bakugou x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugo x you #bakugo x y/n #bnha #mha #mha fanfiction #my hero academia #boku no hero academia

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moonlight-joy · 21 days ago

Text

A Reckless Rescue

MASTERLIST

Fandom: Bridgerton

Summary: When a scandal threatens your reputation, Anthony steps in and claims you as his betrothed—even though neither of you have ever entertained the idea before.

Pairing: Reader/Anthony Bridgerton

Scandal could spread faster than fire in the ton, and tonight, it was your name caught in the flames.

You stood frozen in the candlelit ballroom, your breath shallow as Lady Featherington’s sharp voice rang through the air.

“Alone in the garden with Lord Bertram?” she gasped, her hand clutching at her chest in an exaggerated display of horror. “Why, the impropriety is unthinkable!”

The room fell silent. A sea of watchful eyes turned toward you, the weight of judgment already descending. Your heart pounded against your ribs.

It had been nothing—a misstep, an accident. A moment alone in the garden, barely long enough for a whisper, yet more than enough for ruin.

Lord Bertram, a bumbling and foolish man, had lost his footing in the hedges, and in the process, had grabbed your wrist to steady himself. The movement had been nothing short of ridiculous, but that did not matter now.

Lady Featherington’s voice carried through the hall. “A compromised woman has but one course—”

Before she could finish, a deep voice sliced through the noise.

“Enough.”

Anthony Bridgerton.

The crowd parted as he stepped forward, his presence like a storm rolling in. His dark eyes locked onto yours for the briefest of moments before he turned to the room at large.

“The lady is not compromised,” he said with absolute authority. “She is betrothed.”

Your breath caught in your throat.

A murmur rippled through the crowd. Lady Featherington’s mouth fell open, and Lord Bertram gawked like a fish caught in a net.

Your head snapped toward Anthony. “What?” you whispered, barely audible.

He did not look at you. His face was set in stone, his grip firm as he took your hand in his.

“You heard me,” he said smoothly. “We are to be wed.”

Your pulse pounded. This was absurd. Unthinkable. You and Anthony Bridgerton?

The ballroom swirled in whispers. If you denied him now, if you called him a liar, your fate was sealed. But if you accepted…

He had given you a way out. A reckless, impulsive, impossible escape.

And perhaps, just perhaps, you were reckless enough to take it.

The carriage ride home was silent.

You sat across from Anthony, the glow of the streetlamps flickering over his sharp, unreadable features.

At last, you exhaled, your voice a near whisper. “You did not have to do that.”

“Yes, I did.”

Your fingers curled into your skirts. “You hardly know me.”

“I know enough.” His gaze flicked toward you, steady and deliberate. “I know that the ton would have destroyed you over something so trivial. I know you did not deserve that fate.”

Your heart twisted—half in gratitude, half in something far more dangerous.

“But marriage, Anthony?” you pressed. “Do you truly wish to wed someone out of obligation?”

His jaw tensed. “It is done.”

You studied him. The viscount was a man of control, of measured decisions. And yet tonight, he had acted without hesitation.

“Then tell me why,” you said quietly.

His eyes darkened. “Because I could not stand there and watch them tear you apart.”

Something shifted between you, something fragile and burning.

But before you could grasp it, before you could say another word, the carriage slowed before your home.

Anthony straightened, his voice composed once more. “We shall announce the engagement formally tomorrow.”

You stared at him. “You truly mean to go through with this.”

He inclined his head. “I do.”

And with that, Anthony Bridgerton—your sudden, reluctant betrothed—helped you down from the carriage and disappeared into the night.

The betrothal announcement had sent the ton into a frenzy. The whispers had turned from scandal to shock—had the viscount harbored feelings for you all along?

You knew the truth. There had never been talk of love, of longing.

But something had begun to shift.

And you could not ignore it any longer.

It was late when you found him in the Bridgerton garden, leaning against the stone railing, staring at the stars as if they held answers.

“You are avoiding me,” you said.

Anthony turned, his expression unreadable. “I am ensuring your reputation remains intact.”

You stepped closer. “And what of yours?”

His lips quirked. “I am the Viscount. My reputation is unshakable.”

You studied him. “Then why does this feel like a mistake to you?”

His gaze locked onto yours. “Because it was reckless,” he admitted, his voice raw. “And reckless things…” He trailed off, jaw tightening.

“Terrify you?” you finished softly.

A flicker of something crossed his face. “Yes.”

Your heart pounded. “Then tell me, Anthony—was it truly only duty that made you do it?”

He did not answer. Not with words.

Instead, he reached for you, his fingers brushing against your cheek, his breath fanning against your lips.

“I should not want this,” he murmured.

But then he kissed you.

And everything changed.

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#anthony bridgerton #anthony bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton x y/n #anthony bridgerton x you #anthony bridgerton imagine #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton #bridgerton imagine #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton x yn #bridgerton x you

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sugarplum217 · 2 months ago

Text

The Fire We Make (Part Two)

Pairing: Terry Richmond X Black Female/Plus Size/Curvy Reader, MDNI

Warnings: very heavy smut, unprotected sex, nasty & dirty talk, mention’s of abuse, triggering topics, not suitable for anyone under 18+, oral sex, sort of a slow burn, casual sex, fluff, use of the N word, AAVE, somewhat age gap relationship, mentions of verbal abuse, use of abusive lanuage, alcohol usage, mentions of female masturbation, mentions of sexual assault and drug use, oral sex (female recieving) please

Authors Note: Please excuse any errors or mistakes, I hope you enjoy and please be kind.

Summary: You were supposed to be focused, handling your Nana’s last wishes, getting this house in order, and most importantly, staying out of trouble. But how the hell were you supposed to do that when trouble was six-foot-something, built like a sin, and living under the same damn roof? Terry was already making it hard to keep your thoughts pure, but when a little liquor enters the mix? Whew. The lines start blurring, the tension gets thicker, and suddenly, the two of you are toeing a line that neither of you might be ready to cross. But with confessions spilling, dangerous heat rising, and that fine ass man looking at you like he’s ready to ruin your whole damn world… staying away? Yeah. That might not be an damn option anymore.

You always knew your Nana had a funny way of doing things, but damn, you didn’t expect her to leave you damn near lost in the sauce when it came to handling her last wishes. You swore this woman had an aversion to clear instructions. You should’ve known better. Nana never wrote shit down, not a recipe, not a schedule, not even a damn grocery list. Everything she did was off instinct. She’d always tell you, “Baby, just follow your heart. It’ll lead you where you need to go.” That was cute and all, but what the hell was your heart supposed to do when you were knee deep in paperwork, fighting through legal vocabulary, and trying to make sure her precious land didn’t end up in the wrong hands?

You’d spent the past few days drowning in documents, back-and-forth phone calls with a bunch of old Southern men who thought you were just some clueless city girl, and running errands that felt like they had no end in sight. On top of all that, you had to deal with a whole grown-ass man—a man that was so damn fine he had your hormones setting up camp in your ovaries and throwing a block party every time he walked in the room.

This random-ass nigga Terry, the so-called “helper” who was supposed to be here to assist you, was doing the complete opposite. This man was a walking sexual healing, word to Marvin Gaye. The shit was becoming ridiculous. Your pussy damn near fell through your panties every single time he walked by.

Broad ass shoulders, arms cut like he was hand-carved by the gods, abs that looked like they belonged on a sculpture in a museum. And that face? Whew. That was a whole different kind of fine. I mean, not the kind of fine you run across too many times in life. Terry had one of them strong, grown man faces, sharp jaw, full lips, and for godsake those unique colored eyes that held a storm behind them. He looked like he had a past, like he’d been through some dangerous shit, like he was the type to handle business when necessary. In other words, he looked like the kind of trouble you had no business entertaining. Especially not in the frame of mind you were in, for crying out loud you were still technically grieving. But the way your body reacted? The way your thighs clenched every time his deep ass voice hit your ears? The way your nipples betrayed you whenever he got too close? Yeah… this wasn’t just simple attraction. This was some next level, soul-stirring, I need to be baptized immediately type of undeniable lust.

The sun had been on demon time all damn day. You swore the devil himself had blown his hot-ass breath straight onto the state. It wasn’t just hot—it was disrespectfully hot. The type of heat that made the air stifling and thick as well as made your skin sticky. Had you questioning if you should just go lay down and let Jesus take the wheel. At the moment you were currently outside, sitting on the porch, trying not to pass out from heat stroke. Your leopard-print Fashion Nova romper wasn’t doing much to keep you cool—it was thin and barely there, clinging to your curves like it had an agenda of its own. You didn’t care, though. If these country men could walk around in nothing but basketball shorts and tank tops, you could wear your little booty-clapper romper in peace.

With a lemon-flavored popsicle in hand, you scrolled mindlessly on your phone, music blasting through your AirPods. You weren’t even paying attention to the world around you. At least, not until you looked up and saw him. Terry was out in the yard, shirtless, sweat glistening on his golden-brown skin like he was made of pure temptation. He had the lawn mower in a firm grip, pushing it across the grass with ease, the muscles in his back flexing with every movement. His broad shoulders and cut biceps worked as he maneuvered the machine, sweat dripping down the hard planes of his chest, sliding over his abs, disappearing into the waistband of his basketball shorts.

“Lord, have mercy…” You whispered under your breath. Your stomach clenched, thighs instantly pressing together on instinct. You weren’t even paying much attention to how hot it was anymore. Not when Terry was giving you a show.

The way he moved—slow, controlled, powerful—had your mind going straight to the gutter. You bit your lip, watching him like you had no damn home training. Your mouth went dry, but you refused to blame the heat. This was all him. The way the sun kissed his rich caramel skin? The way his jaw clenched in concentration? The way his thick ass thighs flexed every time he took a step? Terry was a whole ass problem.

You took a slow pull from your popsicle, sucking the tip into your mouth as your eyes stayed glued to the scene in front of you while you leaned back on your elbows, stretching your legs out in front of you, letting the sun warm your skin as you continued to watch him work. You intensely watched as the lawn mower moved slow and steady under his firm grip, his strong hands flexing around the handle as he guided it across the thick grass with impeccable controlled precision. Every push made his biceps tighten, the muscles in his shoulders rolling under his skin like waves. His back flexed, broad and cut, tapering down to a slim waist and thick thighs that held all the power he was working with. He definitely made yard work look sinful. The deep hum of the lawn mower vibrated through the air, but it wasn’t enough to drown out your thoughts. You shifted again, your thighs pressing together, trying to ignore the growing wetness that had started to turn noticeably sticky against the seat of your romper.

Truth be told you knew it had been a minute since you got some. And it wasn’t just about sex—you needed something real. Not some half-ass, two-pump, let-me-get-mine type of situation. No, you needed a man who knew how to handle a woman like you. A man who knew how to grab you, flip you, make you forget your own damn name. Most men didn’t know what to do with a woman built like you—soft in all the right places, curves that needed to be held properly. The kind of body that required strength. The kind of body that needed a man who wasn’t afraid to take control, to pin you down, to make you feel every inch of him until you were running from it. And something in the back of your mind told you Terry was that kind of man. Now you knew damn well in the back of your mind , you weren’t supposed to be lusting after this man. You were supposed to be focused. But the way your body was reacting? The way your heartbeat was drumming between your legs? Baby… focus was nowhere to be found.

“Shit…” You muttered under your breath, shifting in your seat. You bit your lip, trying to steady your breathing as your thighs lazily parted open, wanting to give him a view of exactly what he was working with. The thin leopard-print romper did nothing to hide the soft, fat flips beneath it, and you dared Terry to notice. Terry clearly must’ve felt you staring after a while because suddenly, he looked up, eyes locking straight right at you. Your lips wrapped around the popsicle before you could think better of it, your tongue flicking against the tip in a slow, deliberate motion. His eyes darkened while a slow smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as he took you in, legs parted, skin glowing, sitting there like temptation itself while sucking on something cold to keep from melting in this heat. Or maybe to keep from melting under his heat. You could’ve looked away. Could’ve played it off. But instead, you held his gaze and dragged your tongue along the side of the popsicle, purring at the refreshing taste. Terry’s smirk deepened. He dragged a hand over his head, wiping away sweat, and took his sweet time looking you over—eyes traveling from your thighs to your lips, lingering for just a second too long. While he took his own glances.

Your eyes dragged lower, following the slow, tantalizing trail of sweat dripping down his abs, rolling over the deep-cut lines of his V. The way his muscles flexed with every movement, the way that sheen of sweat made his caramel skin glisten under the ruthless South Carolina sun—it was sinful. You could see it. The way those sharp dips led right beneath the waistband of his basketball shorts, teasing at what was beneath. That print, that damn thick dick print, sitting heavy between his thighs, made your mouth damn near water. Your fingers tightened around the melting popsicle, lips parting slightly as your breathing turned shallow. You didn’t even realize he had stopped pushing the mower by this point. Hell, you didn’t even notice how hard he was staring right back at you. Your mind was complete mush. His gaze wasn’t on your face, though. Wasn’t even on your parted lips or the way your chest rose and fell beneath your thin romper. No, Terry was looking right between your thighs. Your legs were still lazily parted, the soft, fat flesh of your pussy lips spilling over the seat of your romper in a way that had his stormy ocean like eyes darkening, narrowing slightly. And then , he noticed that little glint of the diamond metal sitting exactly where his tongue wanted to be. His jaw flexed and his grip on the mower tightened. His nostrils flared just slightly, envisioning what your pussy looks beneath that romper. The way he was looking at you? Like he was imagining spreading those thighs wider, getting a real close look at that piercing, letting his tongue play with it just to hear how sweet you’d sound moaning his name. Terry’s slow stare continued to drag up and down your body, lingering on that juicy space between your thick thighs. His tongue peeked out, swiping across his bottom lip as he eyed you like he was trying to decide if he was about to fuck around and make a bad decision.

The air between you two was thick and dripping with animalistic lust and deep sexual tension. By this point your entire body felt as though it was buzzing, waiting for him to say something, do something—Then your phone rang, loud as hell might I add. You damn near jumped out of your skin, startled, the sound snatching you straight out of your dirty-ass thoughts. In your rush to grab the phone, you choked on the popsicle juice sliding down your throat, coughing as your eyes watered. Terry huffed a quiet chuckle, shaking his head before turning back to his work. That only made it worse. Now you were sitting here, hot, pussy throbbing and wet, and embarrassed, struggling to breathe while he went right back to pushing that damn lawn mower like he hadn’t just had you about to risk your soul in broad daylight.

“Hello?” You answered, trying to steady your voice and not sound flustered.

“Miss Walker?” The voice on the other end came through.

You swallowed hard, still trying to steady your voice. “Uh, yeah. This is her.”

“This is Veronica Kincaid, the realtor you called about your grandmother’s land. I wanted to touch base since I’ll be coming by tomorrow evening to do an initial walk-through of the property.” The realtor stated.

You squeezed your eyes shut, pressing a hand to your forehead. Of course the realtor would pick now, right now—to call you. And of course your voice still sounded all breathy and flustered like you’d just been caught doing something you had no business doing. Which… technically, you had.

“Right, right. Veronica. Got it. Uh, so… what time were you thinking?”

You cleared your throat, shifting once again, getting up off the chair to head inside the house. The gentle flow of the air condition kissed your skin soon as you went inside the house and you were oh so grateful. You tucked your phone between your ear and shoulder as you migrated to the kitchen to grab a much needed ice cold glass of water.

“Well, I was hoping for around five, if that works for you? I know it’s short notice, but I had an opening, and I wanted to make sure we got ahead of any potential buyers who might be interested.” She explained.

“Yeah, yeah, five is cool. I’ll be here.” You nodded, even though she couldn’t see you. You grabbed a cold bottle of water from the fridge and opened it, immediately gulping it down.

“Great! And just to confirm, we’ll be looking at the full property today? The house and the surrounding land?” Veronica gently inquired. Your eyes flicked back to Terry outside through the kitchen window, who was still working, still glistening in that sun like the temptation he was. You exhaled slowly, pressing your thighs together again.

“Yeah,” you murmured, voice lower than it should’ve been. “The whole thing.”

“Alright, perfect! And if you have those documents ready, we can go over them when I arrive.” She requested, making you scrunch up your face confused. Documents? You thought to yourself. Your brain was fried. Not just from the heat but from that damn man outside looking like a walking sexual healing.

You barely managed, “Yeah, I’ll have everything ready,” before rushing her off the phone with a hasty, “I’ll see you tomorrow Veronica, alright bye.”

The second the call ended, you dropped your phone onto the counter and pressed your palms to your thighs, inhaling deeply. You clearly needed a moment, but apparently, God wasn’t done testing you today. Because not even a second later, Terry walked into the kitchen. You instantly stiffened up soon as he crossed the threshold, making your body react yet again. It wasn’t enough that he was fine as hell, now he had the nerve to smell good, too? Like fresh-cut grass, sun, and something deep and masculine that made your thighs press together on instinct. Terry didn’t say a word as he went straight to the fridge, grabbing a bottle of water, twisting off the cap with one hand like it was nothing. You tried to focus on Veronica’s voice in your ear, but then he slowly tilted his head back with his eyes closed. His throat flexing as he gulped down the water, droplets escaping down his chin, rolling over the slight scruff lining his jaw before dripping onto his ridiculously cut chest.

“Oh, fuck.” You uttered barely audible, thanking the heavens he didn’t hear you. Your brain short-circuited and all you could see was the way his lips wrapped around that bottle, the way his Adam’s apple bobbed with every swallow, and suddenly, you weren’t picturing water anymore. No, now you were picturing your own creamy essence dripping down that chin, sliding down his jaw, his lips shiny with your sweet juices. Terry glanced at you mid-sip, catching the way you were gawking at him, before lowering the bottle and licking his lips.

“You good?” His deep voice carried that smooth, teasing edge.

“Mmhmm.” You swallowed hard, nodding quickly, forcing a tight lipped smile. Terry lifted a brow like he wasn’t buying that shit at all but didn’t press. Instead, he leaned against the counter, smirking slightly.

“Hot as hell out there, huh?” He teased, taking another swig from his water.

You huffed, waving a hand. “Yeah, I can’t do this shit. It’s too hot.”

“Can’t hang, huh?” That low chuckle of his sent a shiver down your spine. You rolled your eyes, but you didn’t even have the strength to argue. Your body was over it. As you grabbed your phone again, scrolling for the information Veronica needed, Terry took his time looking you over—really looking. Up close, he had an unobstructed view of what that leopard-print romper was doing to your figure. The way it clung to every curve, the way it barely covered your ass—or didn’t at all. That fabric had disappeared between your cheeks like it belonged there. Terry licked his lips, his mind going places it had no business going. All he could see was you bent over for him, those thick thighs trembling, that ass bouncing as he made you take every inch. A cornbread-fed body like yours? The type with thick thighs, soft rolls, and an ass that could smother a man to death? Yeah, that was his weakness. There were about a hundred ways he could make you run from him, and he knew that shit for a fact. His mind was deep in the gutter and he knew it as he watched you concentrate on your phone with your entire upper half of your body perched across the counter. Your ass poked out while you were arched just right for his liking. You didn’t even realize the way your ass swallowed the romper of we’re being honest or that he was looking at you like he was picturing it bouncing on his lap. As much as Terry didn’t want to, he knew he had to snap the hell out of it before he fucked around and found out.

“So… have you talked to the realtor yet?” He asked , clearing his throat, he shifted his stance and forced himself to focus. You glanced up, raising a brow like you knew he was just pulling himself out of a real deep thought.

“Yeah,” You said slowly, eyes narrowing slightly. “She’s coming by tomorrow evening.”

“That was quick.” He nodded, eyes still lingering on you, trying to gauge you.

“Trying to get shit handled as quick as possible so I can figure everything else out and not be here longer than I need to be.” You sighed, rubbing your temples. Terry let out a small chuckle, slightly shaking his head as his eyes lingered on you for a beat too long.

“Guess we’ll see what she has to say then.” He said stoically , expression unreadable.

“Guess we will,” You murmured. Avoiding his eyes as you fidgeted with your phone. The subtle ache from his lawn mowing performance is still evident.

“Aight, well I’m gon’ take a shower. If you need me just knock on my door.” Terry tapped his fingers against the counter before speaking again.

“I will.” You nodded, not bothering to meet his eyes. Terry gave a simple head nod, before turning the opposite direction, and heading out of the kitchen to get his shower. You let out a breath you hadn’t even realized you were holding until you heard a door close from down the hall. You immediately snatched your phone and dialed Tasha. The entire time you had been staying here, you were putting her up on game.

“This heffa better pick up this fucking phone—.” You were cut off by her picking up on the first ring.

“Bitch… this better be good. I’m trying to do my nails.” She dragged out, knowingly.

“Tasha...” You groaned.

“Tell me why you sound like you just had a whole orgasm.” She twisted up her face as if you could see, laughing softly on the other end.

“Because, bitch, I might have.” You got up from in front of the counter, migrating into the living room and dropping onto the couch, covering your face.

“Oh no. What did Terry do now?” Tasha cackled loudly. You adjusted the phone on your ear, not bothering to use your AirPods .

“It’s not what he did, Tasha. It’s just… him existing.” You sighed loudly, fanning yourself dramatically.

“Damn. It’s that bad?” She snickered.

“No, girl. It’s worse.” You exhaled, flopping back against the cushions. “This nigga got the nerve to be outside, shirtless, cutting grass like he’s auditioning for a damn porno. And then he comes inside, drenched in sweat, drinking water like he knows what he’s doing.”

Tasha wheezed. “Did you damn near suck the air out of the room watching him?”

“…I might’ve choked on my popsicle.” You embarrassingly admitted. Dead silence. Then— She SCREAMED.

“BITCHHHHHH.” She hollered out, doubling over in laughter.

You groaned. “I fucking hate you.”

“Nah, I love this for you,” She snickered. “But, uh, be careful. That man sounds like he’s about to be all in your guts real soon.”

“Lord please… don’t say that Tasha.” You whined, feeling your heart rate speed up. Your legs crossed tight at the thought. Because the Lord knew you wanted it. And by the way Terry had been looking at you today? He might’ve wanted it just as bad.

“Girl, I’m just saying… it’s been a minute since you got that back cracked open like a lobster! When was the last time you had a man deep inside you making you forget all your worries, hmm?” Tasha asked, her voice playful but full of intent.

You groaned, throwing your head back against the couch, phone wedged between your shoulder and ear. “Damn, Tasha. You really gotta ask me that?”

“Yes, I do! ‘Cause the way you soundin’ all flustered and stressed out over this man, I know you need some relief. So spill it.” She pestered. You hesitated, lips pressing together. The truth was, it had been a minute. Too damn long. And the last time? Whew… the last time was with Rahmello, better known as Rome. That fine, toxic-ass sneaky link who had you sprung even though you swore up and down you weren’t. He wasn’t Terry fine, but he was still fine in his own right. Tall, built, skin the color of fresh coffee, and a smile that could charm the lace off a nun. The sex was fire. He was the only one who truly knew how to touch you, how to work your body like he had a damn manual. And Lord, did he love to hear you moan.

But Rome wasn’t on or about shit. He never wanted to leave your apartment after laying the pipe like his name was Mario. Not because of your body—oh no, he worshipped every damn inch of you—but because he was still technically with his baby mama and didn’t want that smoke. A coward. A man who thrived off the thrill but would never step up. So yeah… he was the last man you’d been with. And it had been two years.

“Girl, why is you so quiet? You reminiscing, huh? I knew it!” Tasha’s voice pulled you back to the present.

You scoffed. “First of all, shut up. Second of all… I ain’t reminiscing. I’m just—”

“Just realizing it’s been too damn long since you had some real dick,” She cut in, making you roll your eyes.

“Tasha, I am NOT about to be fuckin’ this man. I came down here to honor Nana’s wishes, not get caught up with some stranger!” You sighed dramatically.

“Oh, so now he’s just some stranger? You ain’t been drooling over him for the past three days? Girl, please.” She amusingly scoffed.

“That’s beside the point. The point is—I’m keeping it together.” You sucked your teeth.

“Nah, the point is, you're scared. You afraid that if you let that man touch you, it’s over for you.” Tasha snorted.

Silence.

Then, you exhaled through your nose. “YES, HOE! THAT IS EXACTLY WHAT I’M AFRAID OF!”

“I KNEW IT! I KNEW IT! Oh my God—bitch, you actin’ like this nigga ‘bout to have you outside his window with a boombox, playin’ love songs n’ shit!” Tasha hollered, practically puncturing your eardrum.

“Tasha, I just KNOW that nigga got some demon dick. He look like he will have me screamin’, I GOT THE BIKE, HOLIDAY!” You covered your face with one hand, laughing despite yourself.

“STOPPPP! STOP IT RIGHT NOW! I CAN’T BREATHE!” Tasha was screaming now, full-on hollering through the phone.

“I’m serious! This man just look like he’ll have me actin’ a damn fool. And I don’t have the time or the mental capacity for that kinda stress.”You laughed too, shaking your head as you fanned yourself.

Tasha finally calmed down enough to catch her breath. “Whew… girl. I get it, I really do. But, for real—for real… if you keep fightin’ it this hard, that just means you already in too deep.”

You rolled your eyes, but deep down, you knew she had a point. You just weren’t ready to admit it yet. After spending another few minutes on the phone with Tasha. You realized you needed to take care of the constant yearn that was deep inside your belly. The ache between your legs was damn near unbearable. No amount of squeezing your thighs together, shifting in your seat, or deep breathing was doing a damn thing to make it go away. And it was all of his sexy ass fault. Terry had no business looking that damn good, smelling that damn good, and moving the way he did. Your body had been on high alert from the moment you saw him out there mowing the lawn, and now, after that whole scene in the kitchen, your nerves were shot, and your body was begging for relief. You needed release, and fast. You leaned up slightly from the couch, as you listened carefully, making sure he was nowhere near. Then, you heard it—the sound of the shower running down the hall. Terry was in the guest bathroom, meaning you had just enough time to sneak upstairs and handle business before he finished. Wasting no time, you shot up from the couch and rushed up the stairs, heart pounding. The second you got into your bedroom, you fished through your suitcase, hands shaking with anticipation, until your fingers wrapped around the one thing that could bring you to the edge and push you over in minutes, your lovely rose better known as your lifesaver.

You practically ripped your romper off, the fabric slipping down your thick thighs with ease. And when you stepped out of it, you whimpered. The sight of your own slick, gooey essence stretching between your thighs had you trembling. Your swollen clit pulsed angrily, begging for attention, and in that moment, you wanted nothing more than for Terry to be the one to drop down to his knees and lick up every single drop. You bit your lip feeling a shudder run down your spine. Your legs felt weak as you climbed onto the bed, settling against your pillows. Wasting no time, you powered the rose on, immediately switching it to the third setting—the one that never failed to drag a scream right out of you. The second the soft suction latched onto your needy, swollen wet clit, your whole body jerked.

“Oh fuck! Mmmm shit.” A sharp cry tore from your lips as your thighs clenched. You threw your head back, feeling your juices gush out as it hit the toy, making a sound that had you so turned on. The sensation was so intense, so overwhelming, that you felt yourself spiraling already as you slowly rubbed the toy up and down your clit, teasing it as its suction continued to pull and tug on it, making your cream slowly gather inside your hole, ready to drip out.

“Fuuuuck, y-yess.” Your hips bucked as you rocked into the toy, eyes squeezing shut as the pleasure hit you like a fucking freight train. You knew you were about to have the hardest nut of your life.

“My clit so fucking fat shit.” You moaned filthy, feeling hot and wet as your pussy began to have a mind of its own. You were in love with how sensitive your clit felt. The dream was dripping like lava as you felt the toy’s hard suction increasing as your clit fattened with need.

Your legs trembled as you held them back, the rose sucking and pulsing against your swollen clit, dragging out a sticky, wet ache that had been building for days. The first drag of suction made you shudder, a deep moan slipping from your lips as your juices dripped down your pussy slowly and onto the sheets. You rubbed the toy up and down while holding it down to add more pressure, teasing your clit, the pulsing vibration making your body jolt every time it latched onto your clit just right. The obscene squelch and suction noises filled the room, bouncing off the walls, mixing with your ragged breaths and soft whimpers. You swore you could feel the orgasm creeping up already, your belly tightening, thighs clenching, toes curling. You didn’t even care how loud you were; Terry was all the way in the guest bathroom, the sound of the shower running covering your sinful little secret. At least, that’s what you thought. What you didn’t know was that Terry wasn’t even in the damn shower yet. He had stepped out of the bathroom to grab some fresh clothes from the dryer, towel slung over his shoulder, basketball shorts hanging low on his waist, when he passed by your door. And that’s when he heard it. The wet, messy sounds. The desperate little moans.He stopped mid-step, his head tilting, listening closer. The low buzz of a toy, the way your breath hitched between every slick, suctioning pull of it. His lips parted slightly, and his hand flexed at his side, his whole body stiffening as his breathing slowed down, listening to you moan and cry. His tongue ran across his teeth as he bit down, his dick already hardening at the thought of what was happening just beyond that door. And Lord help him… he wanted to see.

“Mmmm suck that pussy! Yesss.” You cried out, eyes closed, picturing Terry’s mouth on you instead of the rose. You pressed the rose down harder, throwing your head back against the pillows as soft spurts of pussy juice squirted from you, making a nice puddle beneath your ass. Terry stood frozen outside your door, jaw tight, tongue pressed against his teeth as he listened to the wet, sloppy sounds coming from your room. His breathing deepened, chest rising and falling as his mind wandered and painted a crystal clear image of you and how you looked right about now pleasuring yourself.

“Damn,” He muttered under his breath, low and raspy. “I know that pussy look pretty when it cum.”

His head dropped forward slightly, hand flexing at his side as his mind painted the filthiest picture—your thick thighs trembling, that pretty little pussy clenching and dripping, all swollen and needy, just waiting for a real tongue to replace that damn toy. And then he heard it. His name slipping past your lips, soft and breathless, like a damn prayer as you were orgasming and creaming all over yourself , and letting out what you had been building up for the last few days.

“T-Terry— FUCK TERRY!” You cried loudly, cumming hard and intensely, as you rode the toy slowly. Immediately going sensitive you dropped the toy to the side and rubbed your aching clit rapidly with your middle finger, allowing yourself to squirt out as a second nut hit you, making your walls squirt harder. Terry’s eyes went dark, a deep hunger settling in his gut, spreading through his veins like wildfire. His hands balled into fists at his sides, his breathing ragged as the image of you writhing on that bed, your fingers tangled in the sheets, legs wide open for him, sent a pulse of raw, aching need straight to his dick. He swallowed hard, fists clenching tighter as he forced himself to step back, to walk away and restrain himself before he did something reckless. Because if he stepped into that room? There wouldn’t be any turning back. He was gonna beat the fuck out of that pussy until you saw stars.

You jerked from the aftershock of your mind blowing orgasm as you laid there, trying to catch your breath. Your heart pounded loudly in your chest as your ears were practically ringing. You’ve had your fair share of amazing orgasms when it came down to self care but this one? This one was undoubtedly the hardest, most nastiest one you had ever given yourself. You knew what your good girl could do. She was a messy juice monster that could make a mess if touched correctly and only you knew how to touch her to make it this intense. But it wasn’t just your technique this time , or your rose toy. It was that tall rich caramel nigga with the gorgeous unique eyes that had you spent and dripping cum.

“S-Shit…” You softly whimpered, feeling tired as your eyes grew heavy. As much as you wanted to get up and clean yourself off as well as change the covers. The aftershock of your orgasm sent you into a soft deep, very much needed slumber. You weren’t fond of sleeping in sweet sticky essence but you were too spent and too weak to fight against it. Not even a minute later you were knocked out, snoring softly with your legs still wide open, with not one care in the world.

A little after 4pm you finally arose from your slumber. Your body felt brand new after an hour-long nap and a much-needed shower. The kind of shower where you let the hot water run over your skin, steam fogging up the mirror while you took your time rubbing yourself down with your favorite body scrub. You needed that. Deserved that. Now, feeling refreshed, you threw on something light—a tiny tube-top dress that barely skimmed the tops of your thighs, the soft cotton clinging to your curves. You slid your feet into your fluffy fur slides, secured your hair up in a claw clip, and let a few soft curls frame your face. Cute, comfortable, and cool. Perfect for this ridiculous heat. With your Bluetooth speaker connected, you scrolled through your playlist, finally settling on SWV’s “Anything” Remix. As soon as the beat dropped, the energy in the kitchen shifted. The bass vibrated through the air, wrapping around you like an old friend. You started off slow, swaying your hips as you pulled out ingredients, letting the rhythm seep into your bones. The knife moved effortlessly through the ripe tomatoes, the sizzle of onions hitting the pan mixing with the music.

“Boy, my body’s just for you…” You sang as your shoulders bounced to the beat, and before you knew it, you were dancing. Really dancing. Hands up, hips rolling, that natural rhythm taking over as you stirred the pot on the stove. The little dress lifted with every step, teasing the curve of your ass as you lost yourself in the moment. What you didn’t know was that Terry had walked in a while ago, leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, just… watching. Amused. Intrigued. You moved so effortlessly, like music was embedded in your bones. He licked his lips, eyes glued to the way your thighs jiggled with every step. That ass? A masterpiece. He could’ve watched you all damn day, but after a few more moments, he finally made his presence known.

“Ahem.” The deep rumble of his throat clearing cut through the air like a record scratch. You jumped, nearly dropping the spoon in your hand. Turning around, wide-eyed and caught, you saw him standing there, that signature smirk tugging at his lips.

“Jesus, you scared the hell outta me,” You huffed, pressing a hand to your chest, trying to slow your pounding heart.Terry just chuckled, eyes dark with something unreadable as he nodded toward you.

“Nah, baby girl, don’t stop on my account. Looked like you was really feelin’ it.” He teased.

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever.” You rolled your eyes, waving him off as you turned back to the stove. But your heart was still racing. And not just from the scare. Terry leaned against the counter, reaching for a bottle of water from the fridge, twisting the cap off with ease. As he took a slow, deep gulp, you caught the way his Adam’s apple bobbed. The way his lips parted just slightly, tongue flicking out to catch a stray drop. You swallowed hard, looking away before your mind took you places it had no business going again for the second time today. Terry smirked behind the bottle. Oh yeah, he had peeped all of that. And after overhearing what you were really up to in your room earlier, he was having a hard time pretending like he didn’t know exactly what had you so damn flustered. But he kept that dirty little secret to himself. For now.

The silence stretched for a bit, except for the music playing in the background. You exhaled, stirring the pot before muttering, “It’s too damn quiet out here.”

Terry hummed. “You ain’t used to it yet?”

“Not even close. I miss New York. All the noise, the people, the energy… I miss just walking outside and hearing taxi’s honking or ambulance's blaring. This country cricket life is not for me.” You scoffed. Truth of the matter was that you couldn’t stand the quiet due to being alone in your thoughts. The quieter things were, the more you relived trauma and pain you tried to forget about in this very house and town. Living in the city helped you stay occupied and distracted so you wouldn’t have to feel or think. Your therapist had told you long ago that , that was an unhealthy way to cope but it was either bury the shit or be on meds for the rest of your life because you couldn’t function.

Terry leaned against the counter, watching you. “If you were back home right now, what would you be doing?”

You thought for a second, then shrugged. “Hittin’ the town with my girls or curled up with a glass of wine, binge-watching something on Netflix or Hulu.”

“Sounds like a good night.” Terry nodded, smiling slightly.

“It is,” You said, then paused, your mind drifting to something else. A memory.

“You know… it wasn’t always bad down here. My daddy used to take me to this old skating rink when I was little. Sweet Rollers. Used to be the spot for all the neighborhood kids. I had the time of my life there, zoomin’ around, thinking I was so grown.” You smiled softly, stirring the pot absentmindedly. Terry’s lips tugged into a smirk, eyes flicking to your face as you got lost in the memory. He loved that little spark in your eye when you talked about something that made you happy.

“Sweet Rollers still around,” He said casually.

Your head snapped up. “Wait, what?”

“Yeah,” Terry chuckled. “Still open. Still got skate nights, too. If you hurry up and get dressed, we can make the evening session.”

“Yeah, right. My big ass ain’t skated in years. I’m not about to be out there bustin’ my ass in front of a bunch of teenagers. No thank you.” You snorted.

Terry leaned in, raising an eyebrow. “All you done did since you got here is work and complain. How ‘bout one night of just… fun?”

You gave him a side-eye. “I have fun.”

Terry smirked. “Name one fun thing you done since you stepped foot in this house.”

Silence

“…Exactly.”

You exhaled, narrowing your eyes at him. “You really tryna get me out the house that bad?”

“I’m tryna get you to loosen up,” Terry said, voice low and smooth. “Ain’t no harm in that, is it?”

You bit your lip, debating. And Lord help you… but the way he was looking at you? It was making it real hard to say no.

You hesitated for a second, chewing on your lip as you looked between Terry and the food sizzling on the stove. “We gotta eat first.”

“We can eat this delicious concoction when we get back. I’ll wrap it up so it stays warm. You go get dressed.” Terry shook his head with a smirk, stepping past you and reaching for the knob, twisting the fire off. You huffed, knowing he wasn’t about to let you argue. A night out didn’t sound half bad, and Lord knew you needed to unwind.

“Fine, fine…” You muttered, turning on your heel and rushing upstairs. Now, if you were going out, you were going to look good doing it. You picked out a pair of booty-hugging daisy duke shorts that gripped your thighs in all the right places, frayed at the edges just enough to tease. Then, you slipped into a cherry-red halter top bodysuit with a plunging neckline, leaving your entire back out, your spine tattoo on full display. You accessorized with your gold nameplate necklace, matching gold hoops, and stacked charm bracelets, letting the jewelry glint against your brown skin. Your hair was next—water and gel slicked it up into a high ponytail, soft curls cascading messily while your baby hairs framed your forehead just right. Shoes? Cute sandals. But you tossed a pair of socks into your purse for the rink. Makeup? Unnecessary. Your skin was already glowing. You fluffed your lash extensions, reapplied your buttery lip gloss, then reached for your Tom Ford Vanilla Sex—a Christmas gift from your mother. The rich, warm scent filled the air as you sprayed a generous amount over your collarbone, wrists, and thighs. Just as you grabbed your purse, you heard Terry’s deep voice call from downstairs.

“You ready yet?” His voice sounded smooth as velvet.

You smirked at your reflection before stepping out of your room and heading toward the stairs. The moment you hit the top step, his head turned. You saw the shift in his expression immediately. His eyes dragged down your short frame—lingering on the way your shorts sat snug on your thighs, then dropping lower to admire how your ass filled them out from the front. His tongue swiped over his lips before his gaze trailed up your exposed back, his jaw flexing slightly. By the time he reached your face, his pupils were just a little darker.

“Damn, ma…” His voice was deep, and heavier. “You tryna have every nigga in there break they neck?” He raised his eyebrow.

You rolled your eyes, descending the stairs. “Boy, shut up.”

Terry let out a low chuckle, stepping closer. “Nah, for real. You dangerous in that.” His head tilted, his voice dropping. “Lookin’ like you tryna get chose tonight.”

“Please. I just like to look good.” You scoffed, even though your pulse betrayed you.

He grabbed his keys, still watching you like he was committing every detail to memory. “Well, you succeeded.” Then, he smirked, nodding toward the door. “C’mon, before I change my mind and keep you here all night.”

Your breath caught for a split second, but you played it off, brushing past him as you stepped outside.You felt his presence heavy behind you, his eyes still lingering. Yeah… this night might be trouble. But you were already in too deep to back out now. Jesus be a complete fence around you and your hormones tonight. The ride to the skating rink was smooth, the warm evening breeze slipping through the cracked windows of Terry’s truck. The low hum of the engine filled the silence at first, but the tension in the air was anything but quiet. You shifted in your seat, smoothing your hands over your bare thighs, acutely aware of Terry’s presence beside you. He had one hand on the wheel, the other resting lazily on the console, his long fingers occasionally drumming against the leather. He was relaxed, but you could tell by the way his jaw flexed that his mind wasn’t completely at ease.

“You always this quiet?” You finally asked, breaking the silence.

“I talk when I got something to say.” Terry smirked, eyes still on the road.

“Oh, so you one of them?” You scoffed, shaking your head.

“One of what?” He glanced over at you briefly, amusement flickering in his gaze.

“The mysterious, brooding type. The ‘I ain’t gotta say much’ type. That whole ‘quiet storm’ thing.” You waved your hand. “Lemme guess, you think it makes you more intriguing, huh?”

“Nahhh, I just don’t waste words.” Terry chuckled under his breath.

“Mmhmm.” You folded your arms, feigning disappointment. “And here I was thinkin’ we was gonna have deep conversation, maybe share some childhood secrets, bond a little.” You pouted.

That made him chuckle again, this time a little deeper. “What you wanna know?”

You turned your body toward him, lips curling into a smirk. “I dunno… something interesting. Like, what’s your guilty pleasure?”

Terry lifted an eyebrow. “Guilty pleasure?”

“Yeah, like some random shit you love but would never admit out loud.” You stared at him, admiring the way his pretty eyes looked under the settling evening skies.

He rolled his lips together, thinking for a second before saying, “Old ‘90s R&B.”

“Word?” You perked up.

He nodded. “Yeah… I be playin’ the hell outta some Jodeci or Mint Condition when I’m by myself.”

“Not Jodeci.” You gasped dramatically, hand to your chest.

“You asked.” Terry chuckled, shaking his head.

“So what you be doing? Sitting in your truck with the seat back, windows down, singing your heart out?”

“Somethin’ like that.” He smirked, glancing over at you.

You laughed, shaking your head. “That’s wild. I would’ve pegged you for more of a hardcore rap, never-show-emotion type dude.”

“Oh, I still be on that. But sometimes, you gotta let a little Feenin’ or Pretty Brown Eyes play when the mood hit.” He licked his bottom lip, giving you a side glance.

“Yeah… I can see that.” You stared at him for a beat, biting your lip.

Terry’s eyes flickered to your mouth before looking back at the road. “What about you?”

“What about me?” You raised an eyebrow at him.

“What’s your guilty pleasure?” He side glanced you, licking the corner of his mouth.

You grinned, knowing your answer might make him judge you. “Don’t laugh… but I love watching trashy reality TV.”

“Nah.” Terry snorted.

“Yes!” You laughed. “Like, the messier the better. I love the drama, the fighting, the over-the-top acting—”

“That’s wild.” He chuckled.

“Don’t judge me.”

“I’m judgin’.”

You rolled your eyes. “Whatever.”

Terry smirked, shaking his head before muttering, “Yeah… I can see that.”

The way he threw your words back at you made you laugh, shaking your head as you settled into a more comfortable silence. The ride continued, the city lights flashing past the windows, and for a moment, you found yourself just enjoying the easy rhythm between you two. No pressure, no awkwardness. Just… something smooth. Something that felt good. Something that made you wonder what the hell you were getting yourself into. As soon as Terry pulled into the parking lot of Sweet Rollers, the deep bass of old-school R&B / Hip Hop tracks vibrated through the truck, mixing with the sounds of laughter and chatter from the rowdy crowd gathered outside. Groups of people lingered near their cars, some sipping on drinks, others showing off their best dance moves before heading inside. It was packed, just like you remembered, and an excited thrill rushed through you at the sight of your old stomping grounds.

“Oooh, this is what I’m talking about!” You excitedly grinned, practically bouncing in your seat.

Terry, however, wasn’t nearly as enthusiastic. His sharp ocean-like gaze swept over the crowd, his jaw tightening slightly. “Too many fucking people.”

“It’s a skating rink, Terry. It’s supposed to be packed.” You rolled your eyes.

“I know.” He exhaled through his nose, gripping the wheel. Unbeknownst to you, Terry wasn’t fond of overly packed places. He hated crowds in general but where he came from he knew that too many niggas in one spot and a bunch of alcohol was a recipe for some shit to pop off. Being an ex Marine Terry was always on guard and ready to handle business if need be and even tonight wasn’t no exception to his unspoken rule.

“What, you scared?” You smirked.

He cut his eyes at you. “Ain’t never been scared a day in my life.”

“Then come on, tough guy.” You unbuckled your seatbelt, already reaching for the door handle. “Let’s have some fun.”

Terry sighed, rubbing a hand down his face before finally nodding. “Yeah, aight.”

As soon as you both stepped out, you could feel the eyes on you—or more specifically, on him. Women stopped mid-conversation, their eyes raking over Terry like he was the best thing they’d seen all night. And honestly? You didn’t blame them. Terry was the type of man that commanded attention without even trying. Standing tall in his fitted black tee, grey sweats hanging low on his hips, and fresh sneakers, he had that effortless, I know I look good but I ain’t gotta say it kind of presence. The streetlights bounced off his sexy caramel skin, illuminating his small curls on top of his head, and highlighting the sharp cut of his jaw and the cool, detached expression that made him even more irresistible.

One woman in particular—a tall, red bone beauty with a micro mini dress that left nothing to the imagination—bit her lip as she eyed him. “Damn,” she muttered to her friend. “That man is fine.”

Before you could process the way irritation flared in your chest, Terry’s large, warm hand landed on the small of your back, guiding you toward the entrance. The simple touch sent heat rushing up your spine, but more than that, it was a silent message. Ain’t no need for you to feel any type of way, I’m with you. And if the daggers those women were shooting your way were any indication? They got the message loud and clear. Inside, the rink was even livelier. The neon lights flashed against the glossy floor, reflecting off the disco ball spinning in the center. The scent of buttered popcorn, funnel cakes, and sweet candy lingered in the air, mixing with the faint must of sweat and skate wheels burning against the slick surface.

“Oh my God,” You breathed, looking around with wide eyes. “It’s exactly how I remember.”

Terry glanced down at you, the corner of his mouth twitching. “That right?”

“Yep. This place was my childhood.”You nodded, grinning. He hummed, tucking that piece of information away before leading you toward the rental counter. The girl behind the counter, a petite thing with slicked baby hairs and acrylics long enough to type paragraphs with, barely spared you a glance. Her gaze immediately locked onto Terry, and her whole energy shifted.

“Hey, handsome,” She purred, leaning forward on the counter just enough to push her cleavage together. “What size you need?”

“Thirteen.” Terry, completely unfazed, pulled his wallet out.

“Mm, big feet…” She smiled, twirling a curl around her finger. Your eyebrow shot up at the boldness of this air head before you. You blinked a few times at her. Did she just—?

Terry didn’t react, just glanced at you. “What size, ma?”

“Seven,” You muttered, crossing your arms.

The girl finally looked at you, then reached under the counter, sliding both pairs of skates toward Terry with an extra sweet smile. “That’ll be twenty-seven dollars.

Before you could pull out your own money, Terry was already handing over a crisp bill.

“You ain’t have to do that,” You frowned.

“I was raised to be a southern gentleman. You ain’t payin’ for nothing in my presence.” Terry tucked his wallet away, grabbing the skates.

You huffed. “Terry—”

“I know you can handle your own, mama,” he said smoothly, his voice dropping just enough to make your stomach flutter. “But let me handle it tonight.”

And just like that, your knees buckled a little. Terry smirked as if he knew exactly what he was doing, then handed you your skates.

“Come on,” he said, nodding toward the benches. “Let’s get you laced up.”

You swallowed, fighting the warmth creeping up your cheeks as you followed behind him. Lord have mercy… What did you just get yourself into? You both made your way over to one of the long benches lined against the wall, the music thumping as people whizzed by on their skates, laughter and conversation blending into the lively atmosphere. You plopped down with a sigh, resting your skates beside you, but before you could even think about lacing them up, Terry was already kneeling in front of you, rolling his shoulders back like this was just another day. Your breath hitched. The sight of him on his knees—those thick, muscled arms flexing as he took your ankle into his hands—did something to you. The heat that spread across your skin was immediate, undeniable. His fingers, large and slightly calloused, wrapped around your calf with ease, his touch firm but careful as he guided your foot into the skate. Your body and not to mention your pussy betrayed you instantly. A sharp tingle danced up your spine, settling deep in your clit as you watched him work. His brows furrowed slightly, dark lashes casting shadows over his cheekbones as he concentrated, making sure the skate fit snugly before pulling at the laces. The way his hands moved—strong, sure, completely in control—had no business being so damn… sexy.

“You good?” His deep voice broke through your haze, snapping you back to reality.

“Y-Yeah. I’m good.” You cleared your throat, shifting slightly on the bench. He glanced up then, his light ocean gray eyes locking onto yours, and damn. That slow, lazy smirk of his was back like he knew exactly what was running through your mind.

“Yeah?” He drawled, tugging the laces tighter before looping them into a knot. “You sure, mama?”

“I’m sure, Terry.” You swallowed hard, trying to ignore the way your thighs pressed together involuntarily. He hummed, low and deep, and that sound alone nearly had you sliding off the damn bench. Instead of giving you a break, he moved on to your other foot, gripping your ankle and repeating the same slow, methodical process. By the time he finished, your body was on fire, your skin practically scorched under the weight of his hands.

“There,” he muttered, patting your knee as he rose to his full height. “You straight.”

But you? You were far from straight. Because when you looked up at him—his full lips twitching in amusement, his towering frame standing over you, his scent of clean soap and warm musk surrounding you and you knew one thing for sure. This night was about to be dangerous. The bass from the speakers vibrated through the wooden floors as the DJ spun a classic 90s R&B jam, filling the rink with a sultry, feel-good vibe. The actual song that happened to be playing was Return Of The Mack. The neon lights flickered against the smooth surface, casting a glow over the skaters gliding effortlessly across the floor. Laughter, cheers, and the occasional sound of wheels scraping against the wood echoed around them as people skated in pairs, some moving in sync, others wobbling through the crowd. You took a deep breath, adjusting your balance as you stepped onto the rink, gripping the railing tightly. It had been years since you’d done this, and your legs felt unsure beneath you.

“Yo, you comin’ or you just gon’ hold up the wall all night?” Terry called out, already rolling ahead like he owned the place, flashing that cocky smirk that made your heart skip a beat.

You sucked your teeth, a playful roll of your eyes as you replied, “I gotta get my footing first. I ain’t tryna bust my ass in front of all these people.”

“Ain’t nobody worried ‘bout you fallin’, mama. You got me.” He laughed, skating backward like it was nothing. With a deep breath, you pushed off, wobbling a little as your skates started to glide. Just like you feared, your legs betrayed you, and before you knew it, you were tilting forward, ready to take a nosedive. A quick gasp escaped your lips, but Terry was there, like a superhero swooping in. Strong arms wrapped around your waist possessively, pulling you up against him with a grip that felt both solid and warm. When you looked up, his face was so close, that smirk teasing you like he knew exactly what he was doing.

“Damn, ma,” He murmured, his voice low and smooth like silk, sending a shiver through you. “You just wanted me to hold you, huh?”

“Shut up.” You laughed, trying to shake off the heat creeping up your cheeks.

“Relax baby girl, you thinkin’ too much. Just let your feet glide and don’t fight it. Just move with me.” He chuckled, steadying you with those strong hands before easing you back to your feet. And just like that, you started to find your groove. With Terry guiding you, his hands firm yet gentle, the wobble in your stance faded. He kept one hand on your hip, ensuring you didn’t lose your balance, while the other hand slipped into yours, fingers intertwining like they were meant to be. Before long, you were rolling across the rink, laughter spilling out of you every time he threw in a little spin or playfully tugged you in a new direction.

“I see you getting the hang of it now,” He teased, a glint of mischief in his eyes.

“Mmhmm,”You shot back, grinning wide. “I told you I just needed a minute.”

“Oh, so you an expert now?” He cut an eye at you, smirking and tugging you again, making you squeal.

“I ain’t say all that,”You laughed, shaking your head, your heart racing with the thrill of the moment. With the beat rolling through you, you started to work it, feeling yourself get lost in the rhythm. Skating in sync with Terry, you spun and swayed, your laughter mingling with the music as he cheered you on, his voice rising above the sound.

“Ayeeee, aight I see you little mama.” He joked. You winked, swaying your hips in-sync as you glided effortlessly, getting lost in the music. The music suddenly shifted, a deep, sensual groove flowing through the speakers, the kind of track that made everything feel electric, as if the whole world was slowing down just for you two. You could feel Terry’s grip on you tighten, the way his energy shifted, and before you could even think about pulling away, he was pulling you closer.

“C’mon,” He murmured, breath warm against your ear. “Let’s see if you really got it.”

Your stomach flipped as he pulled you against him, your back pressing against his solid chest. His arms encircled your waist, guiding you as he began to sway, rolling his hips in time with yours, making the whole world fade away. You let out a slow breath, your body molding into his without even trying. The feel of him behind you—the steady strength of his hold, the way his fingers pressed into your bodacious curves, had your pulse racing like you were on a rollercoaster. Terry’s large stature moved like he was born to skate, fluid and confident, leading you in a rhythm that felt natural. As the music danced around you two, you surrendered to the beat, letting it pull you deeper into the moment.

“I ain’t just good at housework, baby girl,” He teased, his voice low and playful, making your heart flutter. “I got skills.”

You bit your lip, trying to keep the smile off your face, but it was too late. “Oh yeah?” you shot back, glancing over your shoulder, your eyes sparkling with challenge.

“Yeah. You see it,” He grinned, and damn, you did see it. You felt like you were floating, gliding through the crowd, every move you made infused with that infectious energy, the kind that made you feel alive. The way Terry watched you, like you were the center of the universe, only pushed you to show off even more. You bent over slowly, dipping your hips lower as he spun you both around, slow skating backwards. You had seen couples do this a thousand times on Tik Tok and part of you always wanted to do a slow set and here you were with Terry, slow grinding it to Slow Bass Line by Lloyd. The two of you must have skated for at least a good thirty minutes before you got a little winded. After a while of skating, you were starting to feel the burn in your thighs, and your throat was dry from all the laughing and talking. You leaned back slightly against Terry’s chest as you slowed to a stop.

“I’ma go grab a slushie from the concession stand,” You told him, brushing a stray curl from your face.

“Aight, I’ll be right here.” Terry nodded, his eyes still watching the skaters zipping past. With that, you carefully rolled off the rink, maneuvering your way through the crowd. The concession stand was packed, as expected, with groups of teens, couples, and families all waiting for their orders. You took your place in line, debating between cherry or blue raspberry when—

“Well, damn.” The deep, familiar drawl sent a chill straight down your spine, making you freeze in place. That voice—it had been years, but you’d know it anywhere. Slowly, you turned around, your eyes widening as they landed on a face from your past.

“Jalen?” Your mouth slightly dropped. A slow, knowing smirk spread across his lips. He looked good, you couldn’t even lie. Still fine, still tall with that same cocky glint in his eye. His gold chain glistened against his brown skin, and his white tee stretched across his chest in a way that told you he had been in the gym.

“Man, I knew that was you,”He said, eyeing you up and down like he was taking in every single change time had made to you. “Look at you, girl. All grown up and still fine as hell.”

You forced a polite smile, feeling a strange mix of nostalgia and unease settle in your chest. “Yeah, it’s been a minute,” you said, keeping your tone light. “What you been up to?”

Before Jalen could answer, another voice cut in—one that made your stomach drop.

“Oh, hell nah. I’d recognize them big ass hammocks anywhere. Heyyy big mama!” The obnoxious voice teased. Your forced smile fell instantly. Not this bitch. You turned your head slightly and, sure enough, there she was. Shawna. Loud, ignorant, hating-ass Shawna. She looked exactly the same, except for the extra layers of cheap lace-front glue caking up along her hairline. Same exaggerated lashes, same gaudy press-on nails, and the same damn attitude she always had when it came to you. You took a slow breath, already knowing she was about to try you.

“Damn, girl, what brings you back down here? Ain’t seen you since you hauled your lil’ thick ass back up north.” She put a hand on her hip, cocking her head with a smirk.

“Yeah, life happens. Not that it’s any of your business.”You folded your arms, giving her a blank stare.

“Still thick as hell, I see. Some things never change.” She smirked deviously, shifting her weight to one hip, a slick smile on her glossy lips. Your jaw clenches, but you refuse to let her see you sweat. You’ve dealt with Shawna since childhood. She’s been your bully, your hater, your competition—always loud, always fast, and always looking for a way to put you down. And back then? She won. Over and over. From the cruel jokes about your weight to the way she snatched Jalen right from under you like it was her birthright. And now, here she is. Still the same, still petty, still trying to play in your face.

“I see some things never change either,” you fire back smoothly. “You still worried about me more than you worried about yourself.”

Shawna cocks an eyebrow, sucking her teeth. “Girl, please. I just call it how I see it. But damn, you done got cute or whatever.” She tilts her head dramatically. “Somebody put you on or you finally figured it out?”

“Excuse me—“ You try to correct her, but her loud ass mouth cuts in, cracking a joke at your demise.

“Boy, you used to love her fat chunky ass back in the day.” Shawna let out an obnoxious laugh, nudging Jalen. You clenched your jaw even tighter, about to deliver a sharp and downright disrespectful clapback that may or may not resulted in hands being thrown, when suddenly—A strong, warm arm draped around your waist, pulling you firmly against a familiar solid chest from the back. Terry, once again swooping it like a knight in shining armor. His presence alone was enough to shut down whatever slick shit was about to leave Shawna’s mouth.

“You good?” He murmured low enough for only you to hear, his voice steady, but there was something else underneath it—possessiveness.Your body instantly relaxed against him, feeling both safe and seen.

“Yeah, I’m good.”You nodded, your eyes flicking up to meet his. Shawna, however, was not. Her entire demeanor shifted the second her eyes landed on Terry. She damn near devoured him with her gaze, acting like her own man wasn’t standing just a few feet away.

“Whew, and who the fuck is this?” She exhaled dramatically, fanning herself with her hand. Jalen finally notices Terry too. His expression shifts, eyes narrowing as he looks between you and Terry.

“This your man or somethin’?” Jalen asks, crossing his arms. Terry doesn’t even blink. Instead, he shifts his stance slightly, his grip on your waist firm but easy, as if silently letting you decide how to handle it. But then, he speaks.

“Who’s asking?” He answered, voice sounding rougher and more authoritative than usual. The way he says it? Deep, smooth, unbothered. Like he already knows the answer doesn't matter. Like Jalen doesn't matter. And something about that makes your knees weak.

Jalen scoffs, shaking his head. “I was just curious. We got history, that’s all.”

Terry nods slowly, eyes still locked on him. “Yeah? That supposed to mean something to me?”

Jalen chuckled, lifting his hands in surrender. “Damn, bro, it ain’t even like that. We was just catching up.”

“That right?” Terry didn’t move. His dark eyes remained locked on Jalen’s, completely unbothered.

“Yeah,” Jalen nodded, though he seemed a little less sure of himself now. “Ain’t no pressure.”

Terry let a slow smirk curl at the corner of his lips. “Good.”

Shawna, still practically drooling, licked her lips. “Mm-mm-mm. I don’t know where you found this fine nigga, but girl… you won with this one.”

“I didn’t know we was in competition.”You shot her a dry look. She huffed a little, but before she could get another word in, Terry leaned down slightly, speaking just low enough for only you to hear.

“You still want that slushie, mama?” He asked, rubbing sooting circles on your lower back. Your lips parted slightly at the way he said mama like it was his name for you.

You swallowed, nodding. “Yeah.”

“Go ‘head and order. I got you.” He nodded his head towards the counter.

After you and Terry basically dismiss Shawna and Jalen. You grab your slushie, feeling a rush of excitement to partake in your childhood delicacy as you step away from the counter. The rink is still buzzing with sweaty energy, and the slow jams are starting to play. Terry follows you to the bench, his eyes scanning the crowd, but you can feel him close by, steadying your nerves. You sit down and take a sip, enjoying the cool, sugary sweetness, but there’s still a lot on your mind. Terry sits beside you, and you can feel the tension between you both, but it’s not uncomfortable. It’s like he’s waiting for you to open up, and that’s something you don’t do easily.

“So who were they?” He glances at you, his expression curious. You hesitate for a moment, taking another sip of your slushie before setting it down on the bench. A sigh escapes your lips before you begin to explain.

“Jalen… he was the first guy I ever really loved,” you say, the words almost slipping out before you can stop them. “We were high school sweethearts. Thought we were gonna be together forever, you know? He was… the one who made me believe in all that fairy tale stuff.” You shrugged.

Terry listens intently, not interrupting. You can tell he’s taking it all in, but there’s something about the way he watches you—like he wants to understand.

“Sounds like he had you wrapped around his finger,” He says, his voice almost amused but with a touch of something darker behind it.

“Yeah, he did. But then Shawna came into the picture… She was always there, talking trash about me. My weight, my thighs, my body—she always had something to say. I’d try to ignore it, but… it wasn’t easy. And Jalen? He never defended me. He just let her talk.” You smile weakly, fighting back your emotions. Terry’s jaw tightens a little, but he doesn’t say anything. He just listens as you keep going.

“One day, Jalen broke up with me out of nowhere. No explanation. He just… dumped me. And Shawna? She wasted no time stepping in. It was like she’d been waiting for the moment to steal him away from me. She was the one who made me feel like I wasn’t good enough. And it stung. Still stings.” You sigh, taking another sip from the straw. You can feel the anger bubbling up again, but you try to keep it in check. This was the past, right? You weren’t supposed to let it get to you anymore. But it does.

Terry’s hand moves to rest on your knee, and you glance at him, surprised by the gesture. He gives you a look, his voice soft but intense. “That’s some messed up shit. No one should make you feel that way. Especially not him. And especially not her.”

You nod, your throat tightening a little as you try to swallow the lump forming there. “Yeah, well, that’s how it went down. Shawna made sure to rub it in my face every chance she got.”

Terry leans closer, his hand still resting on your knee. His gaze softens, and for a moment, you can almost forget about Shawna and Jalen, about everything that happened before. You’re here now, and that’s what matters.

“You’re better than them mamas, believe that.” He says firmly, his voice low but full of conviction. “Way better. And they don’t get to take that from you.”

His words sunk in, and you let out a small breath, feeling the weight of the past lift just a little bit. You smile, looking down at your slushie before you heard the music shift, the tempo slowing. The music in the rink slowed, a soft, familiar melody filling the air. The first chords of “Weak” by SWV began to echo, and the slow grind of couples on the rink picked up. The rhythm made you feel light again, the nostalgia pulling at her heartstrings.

“I used to love this song,” You say, nodding to the slow jam. “It reminds me of when my dad used to bring me to this rink when I was a kid. We’d skate all night, just goofing around with the kids from the neighborhood. It was one of the best times of my life.” You got teary for a split second.

“You were a pro back then, huh?” Terry raises an eyebrow.

“Not exactly. But I sure had fun. My dad let me stay out late, skating with my friends. It was like… freedom. You know?” You laugh, shaking your head.

“Sounds like you got some memories here. You still got that spark, though. I can see it in your eyes.” Terry watches you, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. You meet his gaze, feeling your heart race. You hadn’t expected this kind of attention, especially not from him. But here you are, sitting next to a man who seems to see you in a way no one else has.

“Well,” you say, your voice teasing, “I’m not sure I’ve still got the moves. My skating game is a little rusty.”

“We’ll see about that.” Terry grins, a playful glint in his eyes. He carefully stood to his feet, balancing on his skates.

The song swells, and the crowd on the rink starts to slow down, couples swaying together in time with the music. You glance at Terry, then back at the rink, suddenly feeling more confident. Maybe it’s the music, or maybe it’s just being here with him. Either way, tonight, you’re going to let go of all of your inner insecurities and just live in the moment. He stands in front of you , offering you his hand, and you take it without hesitation. The night’s just beginning, and for the first time in a long time, you feel like you might just have the strength to leave all the old hurt behind.

“You ready to show them what you got?” Terry’s eyes linger on you, his large fingers interlocking with yours.

“Let’s see if I can still keep up.” You smile, pushing off the bench.And as he pulls you onto the rink, guiding you effortlessly into the slow rhythm of the music, you realize something… This night ain’t about the past or your grudge your held against this place. It’s about right now. And right now, Terry Richmond got all your attention.

The clock struck a little after 9pm and you and Terry both decided to call it a night and turn in your skates. You followed Terry’s lead as the two of you stepped out of the skating rink, the cool night air kissing your skin after the heat of the packed building. The bass from inside still rumbled in the background as more folks poured in for the after-hours session. You felt a lingering excitement from the night, your legs still tingling from the rush of skating and swaying with Terry on the floor. He walked beside you, his pace slow and relaxed, but you could tell by the way his eyes swept the parking lot that his mind was elsewhere. Terry wasn’t the type to get too comfortable in one spot for too long—especially not when crowds gathered, alcohol flowed, and tempers could spark over the smallest shit.

“You good?” You asked, glancing up at him.

“Yeah, I’m straight. But you look like you still got some energy left.” He pulled his car keys from his pocket, twirling them between his fingers before shooting you a smirk.

“I ain’t gon’ lie, I did miss this. I had fun tonight.” You smiled, stretching your arms.

He nodded, then slowed his steps, tilting his head at you. “You tryna call it a night, or you got one more adventure in you?”

“Depends. What you got in mind?” You raised a brow.

His smirk deepened, his eyes flashing with mischief, “Let me stop by the liquor store real quick. Grab us something to sip on with our food waiting back at the house.”

“O-Okay.” You nodded,

Your stomach tensed slightly. Drinking around Terry made you nervous, but not because you didn’t trust him—it was because you didn’t trust yourself. There was something about him, the way he carried himself, that made you feel vulnerable in a way you weren’t used to. The ride to the liquor store was quick. The neon lights of the small shop glowed against the dark sky, buzzing faintly. Before stepping out, Terry handed you a couple of bills.

“Go next door, grab two Big Gulp cups, and fill ‘em with some slushies,” He instructed. “We mixin’ when I get back.”

“Yes, sir.” You took the money and rolled your eyes playfully. He chuckled, stepping out, and you walked into the 7-Eleven, heading straight for the slushie machine. The bright colors spun in the clear tanks, and you carefully mixed cherry with blue raspberry for one, pineapple with mango for the other. As you reached for the lids and straws, a voice cut through the air—deep, raspy, too damn familiar, making your entire body run cold and lock up.

“Sunshine?” The familiar voice spoke. Your breath caught in your throat, fingers stiffening around the cup. The air in the store suddenly felt too thick, your vision narrowing as an old, buried fear slithered up your spine. You knew that voice anywhere. Slowly, hesitantly, you turned, and there he was, Rodney. Time hadn’t been kind to him. His skin, once rich and buttery smooth, looked sunken and dry, dark circles carved beneath his hazel eyes. His frame was smaller, his once-athletic build now gaunt. He used to be fine—every girl wanted him, the older ones keeping a watchful eye, the younger ones waiting for their turn to catch his attention. He had that ’90s R&B pretty-boy look, the type of dude who stayed fresh, always smelling like cologne and bad decisions. Now, he looked like he had seen the bottom of every bottle, taken every wrong turn, and lost every battle along the way. But none of that mattered because all you could see was him. The boy who took something from you. The boy who played on your innocence, your trust. The one who made you run from this city and never look back. Your stomach twisted violently.

“It is you,” Rodney breathed, a weak smile tugging at his chapped lips. “Damn… how you been, baby girl?”

You nearly dropped the slushie as your heartbeat pounded in your ears, drowning out the hum of the store. Your hands shook as you took a step back, the nausea rising fast. You couldn’t be here. You couldn’t do this. Rodney stepped forward slightly, his hand lifting, as if he wanted to touch you, but your body reacted before your mind did. You jerked back so fast your shoulder hit the slushie machine, your breath coming out in short, sharp bursts. Rodney quickly dropped his hand, his expression flickering with something unreadable.

“S-Sunshine, I—” He attempted to say, with tears forming in his eyes. You didn’t wait to hear whatever lie he was about to tell. Grabbing the slushies, you tossed the money onto the counter and bolted. The second you hit the night air, the nausea took full control. Your stomach lurched violently, and you barely made it to the side of Terry’s truck before you doubled over, vomiting onto the pavement. Terry was there in an instant.

“Shit—” His voice was sharp with concern, one hand hovering over your back, not touching but close enough to let you know he was right there. “Breathe, ma. Breathe through it.”

You wiped your mouth, squeezing your eyes shut. “I’m fine,” you choked out. “It’s fine. I’m fine.”

However, Terry didn’t buy it. He knew your were lying through your teeth and if it was one thing he hated, it was liars.

His jaw was clenched, his dark eyes scanning your face, reading every emotion you were trying to bury. “Nah,” He murmured. “That wasn’t just some bad food. What happened?”

“Terry, it’s—” You shook your head, swallowing the lump in your throat.

“Who?” His voice was low, dangerous. “Somebody in there? Did a nigga do some shit to you in there?” He pressed harder. You exhaled shakily, gripping the truck door for support. His eyes darkened further.

“Tell me who, Y/N” He said, voice even, but you could hear the tension beneath it. You closed your eyes, willing yourself to push it down, to shove the past back into the box where it belonged. But your body wasn’t listening. Because for the first time in years, you weren’t the strong, guarded woman you had built yourself to be. For the first time in years, you were that scared 14-year-old girl again.

“C-Can we please just go home? Please?.” Your voice rasped out, clearing your throat again before spitting in remaining bile out of your mouth. Terry didn’t say anything, he just nodded, eyes on you like a hawk with a tight jaw as he opened the passenger side door for you to get in. As you’re getting in, you felt small under his gaze, almost as if he were scolding you for not being upfront about why you were fine one minute and next thing he knows you’re basically vomiting all over the pavement.

The drive home was drenched in silence. The only sound in the truck was the low hum of the radio, some old R&B record playing softly in the background. You stared out the window, watching the city lights blur past, your mind far away from the present. You couldn’t believe after all this time you had seen Rodney. His face, his voice, the weight of his presence had pulled you right back to the past, back to that helplessness, back to that night. You gripped your thighs tightly, your nails digging into your skin as you forced yourself to focus on your breathing. Terry didn’t say a word the whole ride, but you felt his eyes flicker toward you every so often, his grip on the wheel tightening. He wasn’t the type to press for answers—not yet, anyway. He knew whatever was haunting you wasn’t something you could just spill out in the middle of a drive. So he let the silence ride. By the time you pulled up to the house, your stomach was still twisted in knots, but the second you stepped inside, you moved on autopilot going back to that all too familiar numb place. You went straight for the food. Earlier that day, before y’all left, you had cooked—a nice quick meal, something good to come back to. You turned on the stove, reheating the dishes quietly, barely paying attention to anything else. Terry, however, was watching you. His eyes followed every move you made, how your hands trembled slightly as you stirred the food, how your shoulders tensed, how you were too quiet. He didn’t like that shit. Without a word, he grabbed the bottle of Hennessy White he had picked up from the liquor store and poured a generous amount into both Big Gulp cups, mixing it with the slushies you had made earlier. When the food was ready, you placed the plates down on the table and turned to walk away, but before you could, his hand wrapped gently around your wrist.

“Sit down.” His deep voice finally spoke, making you tense. It wasn’t a demand. It wasn’t rough. Just firm enough to make you pause. You swallowed, eyes locked onto the floor. Your body felt stiff, your chest tight, but you sat down next to him, grabbing your fork. Terry didn’t let go of your wrist immediately. His thumb brushed against your pulse, slow, measured.

“Tell me what happened,” He murmured. You inhaled sharply. You had fought tears all night, forced yourself to push it down, to not go back there. But with Terry sitting this close, his voice low, steady, and patient, the walls you had built started to crack. You took a slow bite of your food, chewing without tasting, your throat dry despite how much saliva gathered in your mouth. Reaching for your cup, you took a sip of the spiked slushie, the cold hitting your tongue first, then the warmth of the Hennessy settling in your chest. You swallowed, staring at the table.

Then, softly, you said, “It’s more than one reason I stopped coming down here during the summers as a kid.”

Terry didn’t move. He just listened. Your grip tightened around the cup as the words started spilling out, slow at first, then faster, like a wound being ripped open. You began to tell him about Rodney. About how, when you were just 14, he had been someone you looked up to, someone who made you feel seen in ways no one else did. You told him how he gained your trust, how he made you feel special, like you mattered—only to betray you in the worst way possible. How one summer night, when no one was around, he took something from you. How you froze. How you felt your body leave you, how the ceiling blurred, how you counted the cracks just to keep yourself from breaking. How, after it was over, you never told a soul. How you buried it, packed it away like luggage you’d never unpack. How you left town and never looked back. And how seeing him tonight, in that damn store, had ripped open everything you spent years trying to forget. By the time you finished, your hands were trembling around the cup. Your food sat untouched. Your throat burned. The silence that followed was heavy with unspoken emotions, but Terry still hadn’t moved. But when you finally looked at him, his jaw was tight, his eyes dark—not just with anger, but something deeper, something dangerous. You had seen Terry irritated before. You had seen him frustrated. But this? This was different. This was fury. This was war. His grip on the cup was so tight, you thought he might break it. But when he finally spoke, his voice was eerily calm.

“Say the word.” He said slowly.

“What?” You blinked, your breath catching.

His eyes met yours, steady, unwavering. “Say the word,” he repeated. “And I’ll handle it.”

The air in the room instantly shifted. Terry’s words weren’t just words—they were a promise. A quiet, dangerous assurance that if you gave him the green light, Rodney wouldn’t be breathing the same air for much longer. You swallowed, your throat dry, your chest tightening at the sheer weight of his presence.

“Terry…” You started, but your voice wavered. You weren’t sure what you wanted to say. He was still watching you, eyes dark, jaw tight. His fingers flexed on the table like he was holding himself back.

“Say the word,” He repeated slowly, measured. His voice was like gravel, rough with barely contained rage. “You ain’t gotta carry this no more. I’ll take care of it.”

Your stomach twisted. This was the part of Terry that made people afraid—the quiet storm before the destruction, the way he didn’t raise his voice, didn’t make threats. He just acted. But you didn’t want him to act. Not like that, and definitely not for you. Your Nana would be so ashamed if she had worked hard to keep him out of trouble and you got him into more shit. You exhaled shakily, setting your cup down before your fingers betrayed you and showed just how badly you were trembling.

“It was a long time ago,” You murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. Terry leaned forward, forearms resting on the table, his broad chest rising and falling steadily. His silence was suffocating. Then, finally he spoke up.

“That don’t mean shit and don’t mean it don’t still matter.” He gritted. Your breath hitched. You wanted to hold it together, to keep that wall up just a little longer, but something about the way he said it, the way he was so certain, shattered something in you. You turned your head away, blinking rapidly, but Terry wasn’t having it. Before you could even think, his fingers brushed against your chin, tilting your face back toward him. It was so gentle, so unexpected, that your breath stalled.

“I see you tryna hold it in,” he murmured. His thumb grazed your jaw, his touch featherlight but firm. “You ain’t gotta do that with me.”

And just like that, the dam broke. A tear slipped free, then another, and before you could stop yourself, you were crying. Not loud, not messy, but the kind of silent, shuddering tears that came from years of swallowing your pain. Terry didn’t speak. He didn’t try to shush you, didn’t hit you with some meaningless “It’s okay.” He just… let you cry. And somehow, that meant more than any words could. After a moment, he exhaled through his nose, rubbing a slow, careful circle against your jaw with his thumb.

“Come here,” He said, his voice softer now, deeper. You hesitated, but something about the way he said it—like he knew you needed it, like he wouldn’t push if you weren’t ready—made you cave. You shifted in your chair, and before you knew it, you were leaning into him. Terry caught you instantly. One strong arm came around your waist, pulling you effortlessly into his lap, the other resting against the small of your back. His warmth surrounded you, his scent—woodsy, clean, something unmistakably him—enveloped you. Your face pressed into his neck, his skin warm against your damp cheek. You felt his breath in your hair, slow and steady.

“I got you,” He murmured. And for the first time in a long time… you believed him. You weren’t sure how long you stayed like that. At some point, your tears dried up, exhaustion creeping in, your body growing heavy against his. But Terry didn’t move, didn’t rush you. His hand stayed on your back, fingers tracing slow, absentminded patterns through your shirt.

“You ever tell anybody?”He finally asked. You shook your head against his shoulder.

“Didn’t think so.” He exhaled sharply, his jaw tightening. A long beat of silence stretched between you before he gently spoke.

“You shoulda never had to carry that alone, ma.” He inhaled deeply.

Your throat tightened again, but this time, you swallowed it down. “I didn’t know how to tell nobody,” you admitted. “And when I finally thought about it… it was too late.”

Terry was quiet for a moment. Then—“Ain’t never too late.”

“Terry—” You pulled back slightly, looking up at him.

“I mean it.” His gaze was steady, unwavering. “Ain’t never too late to get what’s owed.”

A cold chill ran through you. You knew what he was saying. He wasn’t talking about healing. He wasn’t talking about moving on. He was talking about payback. You studied him, searching his face for something—anything—that would tell you he wasn’t serious. But he was. He was dead serious.

“You can’t—” Your heart pounded.

“I can.” He countered sharply.

“Terry—” You tried to speak.

His fingers flexed against your hip. “Ain’t no nigga walkin’ free after doin’ that to you. Not while I’m breathin’.”

Your stomach flipped. “I don’t want you getting in trouble for me.”

“That’s the last thing you need to worry about.” His lips pressed into a thin line. Your chest ached. This wasn’t what you wanted. You had spent years trying to put this behind you, trying to move forward. But now? Now he was bringing it all back to the surface. And worse? A small, dangerous part of you wanted to let him handle it. Terry tilted his head slightly, studying you. Then, almost like he could read your mind.

“You don’t gotta decide now.” He murmured, staring at you. You swallowed hard.

“But whenever you ready… you just say the word.” He leaned in, his lips just barely grazing your temple. And with that, the choice was yours. The two of you sat and ate your food in comfortable silence as you just tried to forget about how your past decided to pop up and be a son of a bitch. Eventually after you finished your dinner, you two ended up in the living room, the evening taking on a mind of its own.

The soft hum of ’90s R&B filled the space, smooth and sensual, engulfing the living room around the both of you. Jodeci’s “Freek’n You” played low from the speakers, the bass deep, the lyrics suggestive. You curled up beside Terry on the couch, your body warm from the Henny and slushie cocktail, the ice long since melted. The burn of the liquor coated your throat, loosening you up, making you bold. Your eyes flickered to the mantle above the fireplace, a shrine of memories—your nana’s old porcelain figurines, a few framed pictures, a vase filled with artificial roses that had collected dust over time. You exhaled, rubbing a hand down your thigh.

“I’m really gonna miss this place,” You whispered, almost to yourself.

“So don’t sell it,” He said, simple like it was an easy fix.” Terry, leaned back into the couch, his long legs spread wide, cup resting against his knee, studying you.

You snorted, shaking your head. “I am not a country girl,” You said, flashing him a playful smirk. “And besides, I don’t got a husband or kids to pass this land down to. What would I even do with all this space?”

Terry hummed, taking a slow sip from his cup. His expression was unreadable, but something flickered in his eyes. Something contemplative. You let the silence stretch, the weight of everything lingering between you. The conversation had been too heavy, and you were tipsy enough to crave something lighter. An idea hit you.

Smirking, you sat up, turning toward him. “Let’s play a game,” You said, voice dripping with mischief.

“What kinda game?” Terry raised an eyebrow, the corners of his mouth twitching.

“Rapid-fire 21 questions. But…” You paused, licking your lips, letting the moment breathe, “let’s make it grown.”

“Oh, you tryna be messy now?” His smirk deepened.

You laughed, shrugging. “You scared?”

“Me? Nahhh.” He chuckled, shaking his head. “Aight, bet. You go first.”

You tapped a finger against your chin, pretending to think. “Hmm… Favorite position?”

Terry took a slow sip before answering. “Depends on the woman. Some deserve missionary so I can look ‘em in they eyes while I fuck em’… others?” He exhaled, his voice dropping an octave. “Bent over, face down in the pillow, ass up high.”

Your stomach flipped, but you kept your composure, sipping your drink to hide your reaction.

“Your turn,” you said, clearing your throat.

Terry leaned in slightly, eyes low. “You ever faked it?”

You blinked before bursting into laughter. “Hell yeah.”

His brows lifted. “Damn. That’s crazy.”

“Not my fault some niggas don’t know what they doing,” You teased.

Terry chuckled, shaking his head. “That’s tragic.” He lifted his cup. “Rest in peace to them weak-ass performances.”

You clinked your cup against his, giggling as you both drank.

“My turn,” You said, leaning in a little closer. “Ever had sex in public?”

“Too many times to count.” Terry’s smirk widened.

“Damn. Where?” Your eyes widened.

“Cars. Stairwells. Dressing rooms. A rooftop one time…” He trailed off, eyes glinting with amusement. “You sound intrigued, ma.”

“I ain’t say all that.” You rolled your eyes, fighting back your smile.

Terry just watched you, like he could see through the front you were putting up.

“Alright, my turn,” he said, setting his empty cup down on the table. He leaned forward, forearms resting on his knees, voice dropping into something smooth and dangerous.

“So…” He paused just long enough for the tension to coil tight between you. “That rose… it feel better than a nigga’s mouth?”

Your stomach dropped. The question hit you like a slap, and before you could stop yourself, you choked on your slushie. Coughing, you slapped a hand over your chest, eyes wide as you stared at him.

“W-What?” You coughed. Terry licked his lips, unbothered, amused even. His eyes dragged over your face, then down to your parted lips, lingering there before flicking back up.

“You heard me, ma.” His voice was deep, smooth, coated in something dangerous. “Answer the question.”

Your heart pounded, heat rushing to your face, your thighs pressing together out of pure instinct. This nigga was playing dirty. And the worst part? You liked it. You swallowed hard, your throat suddenly dry despite the icy slushie burning your tongue. Your knees pressed together instinctively, but you forced yourself to keep eye contact, refusing to let Terry see how deep his words cut through you. His gaze was heavy, molten, dark with mischief, and he knew what he was doing. He had that lazy smirk on his lips, like he was just getting started, like he was enjoying watching you squirm.

“That’s a bold-ass question.” You cleared your throat, forcing a small smirk of your own.

“And yet, you still ain’t answer it.” Terry leaned in slightly, his broad frame dominating the space between you.

“Why? You trying to compare stats?” You shifted on the couch, swirling your drink in your cup, feigning nonchalance.

Terry let out a low chuckle, the sound deep and rich. He stretched his arm over the back of the couch, fingers just barely grazing your shoulder. “Nah. I already know my stats, ma. I just wanna know if you playin’ yourself out of a real experience.”

Your stomach dipped. This man… this nigga right here…

You exhaled through your nose, refusing to be the first to break. “The rose is efficient,” you finally answered, tilting your chin up in defiance. “It does what needs to be done.”

Terry hummed, eyes still locked on yours. “Efficient, huh? That’s cute. But a machine ain’t never gonna know what your body need the way a real nigga will.”

You should’ve seen that coming. You tried to keep your cool, but the way he said it? The way his deep, raspy voice wrapped around those words like silk? It sent a ripple of heat down your spine. You huffed, shaking your head, but your body betrayed you. Your skin was warming up, and the Henny had you feeling too damn good—a little too relaxed, a little too reckless.

So you smirked, tilting your head. “Oh? And what exactly does a ‘real nigga’ do that’s so different?”

Terry’s eyes darkened, his jaw tightening for a half second before that smirk of his returned—cocky, knowing.

“Everything baby.” The way he said it was so matter-of-fact, so damn confident, it had no business making you clench around nothing. You bit your lip, trying not to react, but Terry caught it. His gaze flicked down to your mouth, watching the way your teeth tugged at the soft flesh, and suddenly, the air between you shifted. He leaned in even more, his knee grazing yours, voice dropping to something silky, almost hypnotic.

“You really think that little toy can do what I can?” His fingers traced the rim of his empty cup, slow and deliberate. “That rose ain’t got no tongue. It don’t know when to slow down, when to speed up… don’t know how to tease you just right ‘til you beg for it.”

A slow, heated pulse throbbed between your thighs. You opened your mouth to clap back, but nothing came out. Your body had already betrayed you—your breathing had deepened, your skin felt too tight, too hot, and Terry was watching every little shift in your expression like he was reading you.

“See, that’s the thing, ma. A real nigga don’t just make you cum. He makes you feel that shit while he’s sucking on your clit .”He licked his lips. Your thighs clenched. Hard. This was dangerous. And what made it worse? Terry knew exactly what he was doing. You bit down on your straw, trying to distract yourself, but it only made things worse. Terry’s eyes flicked to your lips again, watching the way they wrapped around the plastic, how you pulled back slow, tongue flicking out just slightly to catch a stray drop of slushie. He smirked.

“So,” he drawled, swirling the ice in his cup. “How you like to be ate?”

Your chest seized. You choked again but this time, not on the drink, not on food—on air. Your eyes went wide as you coughed, covering your mouth, your whole body heating up like you’d been thrown into a damn furnace.

Terry just chuckled, unfazed, leaning back against the couch. “Damn, ma. That a hard question or somethin’?”

“You can’t just ask somebody that outta nowhere, Terry!” You wheezed, fanning your face.

“Why not?” He shrugged. “You grown, ain’t you?”

You sputtered, taking another sip of your drink, anything to cool yourself down, but the way he was watching you? Like he had all the patience in the world, like he was waiting for you to stop fighting yourself? That made the heat worse.

“A’ight,” He mused, his voice dropping lower, deeper. “Lemme make it easy for you. You like it soft and slow? Or deep and messy?”

Your whole body betrayed you. Your thighs pressed together before you could stop them, and Terry caught it. He didn’t say nothing—didn’t have to. The small smirk on his lips said it all.

“I—” You swallowed.

“See,” Terry cut in smoothly, shifting closer, his knee knocking against yours. “Me? I don’t play when I eat pussy, baby. I clean my plate—efficiently.”

Your breath hitched.

“I like to take my time with it. Make sure I learn every little thing that makes you shake, makes you moan, makes you beg me to stay down there a little longer.” Terry tilted his head slightly, his eyes hooded, that slow, lazy smirk still on his lips. Your fingers curled around your cup, gripping it tight.

“But I ain’t selfish,” He continued, voice like molten honey, thick and dripping with promise. “I’ll tease that pussy if that’s what you like. Kiss on her real slow. Run my tongue real soft against that lil’ spot with your piercing that makes your toes curl. But if you need it nasty?” He licked his lips, letting the sentence hang before finishing, “I’ll drown in it.”

Your stomach clenched. Your thighs trembled. The Henny was hitting too damn good now, because your head felt light, your body warm, and every single thing he was saying was burrowing deep inside you, making you ache.

You stared at him, the temptation thick between you, and whispered, “That… that sounds amazing.”

Terry’s smirk deepened, his fingers brushing lightly over your knee.

“Then let me eat you out,” He murmured. “Let me show you that rose ain’t got shit on me, baby girl.”

Between the slushy, the slow jams playing and the diabolical heat and Nana’s broken AC system. Your brain was fried as you stared in the ocean eyes of a man that was crafted by God himself, practically egging you on to let him taste what you had between your thick thighs. The thought alone of his juicy lips wrapped tightly around your sensitive bud , milking you through your orgasm already had you practically drooling in your panties. You could feel your pussy becoming slippery against your thong as it stuck to you, making you hold back a whimper. As your clit swoll with need, that damn piercing began to betray you and make you nearly cum on yourself as the seat of your panties rubbed it , creating a slow friction.

“Terry, maybe we had too much to drink—. “ You tried to say but before you could even finish your sentence, Terry was in your personal space, making your heart speed up. Terry bit his bottom lip, his eyes locked onto yours, as he slowly wrapped his hand around your throat. Your breath hitched, feeling your heart pounding in your chest, as you felt his touch ignite a fire within you. Your faces were mere centimeters apart, the tension between you two palpable. Your breathing grew heavier, your anticipation building, as Terry’s full lips finally connected with yours in a slow and nasty tongue kiss. It was as if time stood still, your lips moving in perfect harmony. Your eyes instantly fluttered shut and your hand instinctively found its way to his cheek, deepening the kiss with hunger. You couldn't resist the magnetic pull between you two any longer. You scooted closer to him, with your other hand finding its way around his neck. The music in the background seemed to fade out as the two of you lost yourselves in each other's mouths. The heat between your bodies intensified, mirroring the growing desire that pooled between your thighs.

Terry growled as his grip on your throat tightened slightly, causing you to gasp and let out a small moan. It was all the encouragement Terry needed to deepen the kiss further, his tongue sliding sensually into your mouth, swirling and teasing. You moaned, sucking his tongue, allowing your spit and his spit to intertwine. The more his tongue flicked and sucked against yours, the wetter your pussy felt. It was so slick and slippery, you could smell it through your shorts. The living room seemed to transform into a steamy haven as Terry’s strong hands began to explore your body, igniting every nerve ending along the way. Unable to contain his desire for you any longer, Terry let the kiss become more aggressive, his passion shining through every movement. You responded with small whimpers, your lips tingling from the intensity of the connection. Terry’s hold on your neck released, his lips moving down to explore the sensitive soft skin of your neck. You moaned and shuddered, feeling Terry’s tongue swirling against your neck, expertly finding the spot that drove you wild. Terry’s lips sensually kissed and sucked, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body. Your grip on Terry’s small curls in his head tightened as your cute moans escaped your lips, only fueling Terry’s nasty desire. Terry’s arms wrapped around your body, pulling you in closer, as your bodies pressed against each other.

“T-Terry, p-please.” You whimpered out breathlessly, rubbing his head. By this point you were a shaky mess and needed some relief quickly. Terry chuckled deeply in your neck, biting it slowly as he trailed his tongue upward, circling it around your earlobe before sucking it into his mouth.

“Please what baby? Hmm? Please what?.” His voice darkened, making your body quiver. As much as you tried to fight it and fight doing something you may ultimately regret. The liquor and your hormones was working against you and you said fuck it. Might as well, might as fucking well.

“Taste my pussy.” You whispered, whining for him. That was all Terry needed to hear before he pushed you back on the couch, allowing your back to rest against the pillows as he continued to leave wet open mouth kisses against your neck. Caution was to the wind at this point and damn the consequences of your actions. You needed to feel something, ANYTHING.

The heat between you two intensified, while your hands roamed freely over Terry’s toned arms, your nails grazing the surface, eliciting a groan and a moan from Terry’s throat. You watched as Terry leaned back, staring down at you as he lifted his shirt up from the back, and in an instant he had it off. You bit your bottom lip at the sight of his rich and healthy body. It was crafted to perfection and made you wanna lick every dip and curve of his cut abs. Terry’s eyes dropped lower as he watched your hand reach down and pop the button of your shorts open, letting him know you were on demon time. Terry smirked, pushing your hands out of his way before he took control, yanking the shorts off of you himself, making you gasp at his roughness. Your hips instinctively raise up to assist him in getting them off of you. Soon as your shorts came off your intoxicating arousal smell hit his nose, making his mouth instantly water.

“Fuck, your pussy so fat.” He remarked, as his ocean gray eyes stared down at the way your pussy sat against the snapped closure of your bodysuit. Your clit jumped as more of your juices seeped through your thong, creating a very noticeable wet spot on the outside of the red fabric. Terry’s eyes stay locked on yours, dark and heavy with intent, as his hands ease up under the curve of your ass, gripping you firm but slow like he’s mapping out every inch. But he doesn’t rush—nah, he takes his time, savoring every reaction, every hitched breath, every little tremble that runs through you. His lips graze over your jaw first, then lower, tracing a slow, burning path down the side of your neck. The heat of his breath makes your skin prickle, your pulse jump. He lingers at that sensitive spot near your collarbone, sucking just enough to make you squirm, his grip tightening on your hips.

“Terry…” His name slips from your lips, part plea, part warning, your fingers gripping at the solid muscles of his shoulders. He hums against your skin, deep and rich, the vibration sinking right through you.

“Relax, baby,” He murmurs, trailing his tongue down the valley between your breasts, the thin fabric of your bodysuit doing nothing to stop the warmth of his mouth. “Let me do this right.”

Your breath hitches when his hands slide down your thighs, then lower, fingers teasing at the clasp of your bodysuit between your thighs. He pauses, his grip firm but patient, his dark eyes flicking up to yours, reading you.

“You want me to stop?” His voice is thick, low, serious. Giving you an out.

You shake your head, pulse hammering in your throat. “No,” you whisper. “Don’t stop.”

That slow, knowing smirk tugs at his lips as he flicks the snaps open one by one, the small pops echoing in the thick silence between you. The fabric of your bodysuit peels away, his fingers grazing over the newly exposed skin of your stomach, making you shudder. Terry shifts lower, dragging his hands up the backs of your thighs, his touch warm, possessive. He takes his time, savoring the way your breathing changes, the way your body reacts to him, completely at his mercy. Your breathing labors as you feel Terry’s lips trail down, slow and deliberate, leaving a path of wet, open-mouthed kisses against your belly. His warm breath fans over your skin, and the heat of his tongue sends a delicious shiver through your body.

“You smell so fuckin’ good, ma,” He rasps against your skin, his voice thick with hunger. His nose grazes the crease of your inner thigh as he inhales deeply, like he’s savoring your wet scent, like he’s already addicted. Your own arousal was beginning to invade your nose turning you on to the highest max. Your thighs instinctively try to press together, but he’s quicker, stronger. His hands slide up, firm and possessive, gripping the backs of your knees before pushing your legs back—high and open—until they’re nearly touching your stomach. With one free hand, Terry pushes your thong out of the way, snapping it at the seams, making you gasp. Your swollen pussy lips spread open instantly for him as he pushes your legs back further. He leaned in slowly and guided one of your legs over his shoulder, running his hands over your supple thighs, parting your slippery wet fat lips to kiss and lick at you swollen clit slowly. You jerked at the sudden warm sensation of his tongue. Terry’s tongue flicked back and forth rapidly against your diamond piercing that sat against your clit, making your walls gush in an instant.

“O-Ohhh fuckkkk! Shit shit!.” You hissed, toes curling in the air. You stared up at the ceiling, feeling your breaths becoming shallow as his tongue worked slow and steady patterns between your pussy folds. His right hand slid up your thigh as he dipped his tongue down further to taste what seemed to have dripped out, grunting as the sweet sensation danced on his taste buds. Your back arched into the couch as your fingers dug into the cushion beneath you, feeling his tongue swirl up and down your pussy sloppily. Your ears were graced with soft lapping sounds as his tongue danced in circles around your throbbing clit. You could feel your creamy juices seeping like liquid gold as his tongue worked in a figure eight motion. Terry slowly started to suck gently on your clit, but then he became relentless, sucking your sensitive and swollen clit into his mouth with determination and precision.

Terry groaned loudly against your skin, the vibration sending a shockwave through your body. “Mm,” he hums, his tongue flicking out to taste your clit again. “Just like I knew you would… sweet as fuck.”

“T-Terry…” Your voice is barely there, breathless, overwhelmed.

He pulls back just enough to look up at you, his lips glistening with your creamy juices, his expression wicked. “I know, baby,” he murmurs, his voice thick like molasses. “Feels good, don’t it?”

You nod, swallowing hard, your thighs trembling around his head. Soft whimpers leave your mouth as you stare at the gorgeous work of art between your thighs. Clit glistening with his spit and your juices as he kisses on it, while his eyes remained locked on yours. You purred, feeling his hand gripping your ass and running his other hand up to knead at your breasts, groaning into your slick lips like he’s the one getting pleasure from it.

He smirks. “Then let me finish my plate.”

And just like that, he dives back in, his pace slower this time, more intentional. His tongue moves in slow, sensual strokes, coaxing you higher and higher until your back arches, your fingers gripping the couch for dear life.

You try to hold back, try to contain the whimpers slipping past your lips, but Terry isn’t having that. “Nah,” he murmurs against your pussy, sending another wave of pleasure through you. “Lemme hear it, ma.”

“Oh daddy… d-don’t stop.” You shamelessly whine. His grip tightens, holding you exactly where he wants you, his tongue working you into a slow, desperate unraveling. He sucks, licks, flicks at your clit until your thighs are shaking, your breaths are coming in short, uneven gasps, and your entire body is tensed like a bowstring ready to snap. You inhale sharply, nearly convulsing, throwing your head back as your hand found its way into his curls. Your feet digging into the back of his shoulders every time he sucked a little more forcefully on your clit. You cried, trying to push his head back, but he held you down. Continuing to shake his head side to side as spit was dripping from his mouth onto your pussy, sucking at your clit with determination. You held his head and watched it go up and down and side to side, creating the perfect cadence to aid in your oncoming orgasm.

“T-Terry— FUCK! Wait— I-I ooooh I’m gonna cum!!” You squeal, feeling your pussy gushing incessantly. You pushed at his forehead again, but he wouldn’t relinquish as his lips stayed locked around your clit, sucking it harder, allowing his tongue to sit flat against it and flick back and forth.

“Oooh yesss daddy yesssss.” You whimpered louder.

He pulls back just slightly, his lips glistening as he licks them slowly, his dark eyes locking onto yours. “Don’t run from it, baby,” he murmurs, his voice sinful. “Take all this shit.” And then he’s back on you, hungrier, deeper, more consuming. Holding you open, eating like it’s his last meal.

“Terry— fuck! oh my god don’t stop.. don’t stop please.” You begged holding his head in place. He used the pad of his thumbs to spread your full lips apart as his tongue circled your entrance before dipping the tip in real slow. You squealed as you felt his tongue thrusting upward against your g-spot, thumping it rapidly. Your eyes rolled back into your skull as you felt yourself dampening his goatee hair.

“So fucking fat and sweet.” He groaned, wrapping his tongue around your clit, sucking all over it nastily as he pushed his face deeper. Your hips bucked upward, feeling your stomach tighten up in a knot. You knew you were about to cum and from the way he continued to assault your clit, it was gonna be intense and messy.

“T-Terry..” You managed to get out, eyes crossing as he relentlessly held your clit captive in his mouth. Terry’s eyes flickered up as he watched you, his gray eyes locked onto your face as he works you over with hard, deliberate strokes of his tongue and the sensation of his lips . He can feel every little tremor in your thighs, every sharp hitch of your breath. But he ain’t letting up. Not yet.

“Relax for me, ma,” He murmurs against you, his deep voice vibrating straight through your core. “Let me take you there.”

Your hands are gripping his curls so tight it should hurt, but he doesn’t care. He loves it—loves the way you’re coming undone just from his mouth, the way you’re trying to hold on when he knows you ain’t got a chance.

“T-Terry…” Your voice is shaky, needy, your thighs trembling in his grasp. You listened to the nasty wet sounds of his mouth devouring your pussy like it was a succulent piece of fruit. You squirmed beneath him, the pleasure becoming too overwhelming, but he didn’t let you play yourself out of what he knew you needed most, and that was a good nut.

“Shh, I got you.” He flattens his tongue against you, slow and deep, before switching up, flicking in a way against your clit in a turbo motion, that has your whole body jerking. He grins against you. “Damn, you sensitive as hell, baby. You been neglecting yourself or that little toy just ain’t cuttin’ it no more?”

You let out a whimper, head tipping back against the couch, body arching off the cushions. He chuckles, low and sinful, before sucking deep, rolling his tongue just right.

“Oh—fuck!” You yelp loudly, holding his head down, trying to scoot back again.

He tightens his grip when you try to close your legs, spreading you wider, keeping your pussy open for him. “Nah, don’t run now,” he rasps, lips glistening as he glances up at you. “You gon’ take all this shit. Let me hear you, baby. Let me feel you.”

He drags two fingers through your slick pussy, teasing your awaiting creamy hole before pushing them in, the cream instantly pushes against his fingers as he thrusts them slow but deep. The stretch makes you gasp, back bucking like a horse off the couch.

“That’s it,” He praises, curling his fingers just right towards your g-spot. “You feel that? Feel how my fingers fit right inside this fat pretty pussy? That little rose can’t do this, can it?”

Your breath stutters, eyes rolling back as he strokes his fingers deep, touching your cervix as he rubs your g-spot, his tongue working in tandem with his fingers, drawing you closer to your orgasm.

“I—I’m… Terry, I can’t—” You whined desperately.

“Yes, the fuck you can,” He growls, increasing his pace, pushing you right to the edge. “C’mon, baby, gimme that shit. Let me feel you cum for me.”

“I-I’m b-bout to cu—“ Your words were instantly cut short as the ache in your stomach intensified and your release shattered through you.

Terry feels it before he sees it, the way your body locks up, the way your creamy slick walls grip his thick fingers like a vice, the way your thighs tremble uncontrollably in his hands. He knows it’s coming, and he ain’t about to let up now. If anything, he doubles down, curling his fingers just right, his tongue flicking against that sensitive clit like he’s got something to prove.

“That’s it, baby,” He rasps between licks and strokes of his fingers, his deep voice vibrating through you. “Let that shit go for me. Don’t fight it. Cum in daddy’s mouth baby.”

Your breath stutters, a choked sob ripping from your lips as the pressure inside you snaps, sending you spiraling into an earth-shattering release. Your entire body jerks violently, back arching off the couch as a gush of liquid rushes out of you, soaking his hand, his wrist, his damn beard. You squirted hard as your orgasm overtook you and left you practically paralyzed.

“That’s it, baby girl,” Terry groans, voice thick with hunger as he licks and sucks clit through it, taking every drop, every last shudder. “Damn, you taste so fuckin’ good.”

“Oh—shit! Terry! YES YESSSSS! Dadddddyyyyy.” You screamed out, thrashing all over the couch as his fingers stroked you through your orgasm, milking it from you. Terry lets out a groan, deep and satisfied, as he watches you lose yourself completely, his lips glistening, his fingers still working you through every wave, every shudder. He doesn’t stop until you physically push at his head, your legs twitching in overstimulation, your breath coming in sharp, uneven gasps. Finally, he pulls back, his face soaked, his smirk downright sinful as he wipes his mouth. His eyes are locked on you and your spent, trembling body, the way you’re struggling to come back down, your chest heaving, your skin glowing.

“Fuck,” He murmurs, his voice thick with pride. “Look at this messy ass couch. Look at you, baby.” He bites his bottom lip, shaking his head. “Told you that little toy wasn’t fuckin’ with me.”

You couldn’t even form words yet, still floating in the aftershocks, but he leans up, pressing a slow, deep kiss against your lips, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. You moan, tongue kissing him back, getting drunk off your own sweetness and scent on his lips.

“You good baby?” He asks against your mouth, his hand stroking your thigh, grounding you. You nod weakly, eyes still dazed, lips slightly parted as you try to catch your breath.

“Y-Yes…” You gently rasp out, too spent to form a coherent sentence.

“Yeah. That’s what I thought.” He smirks. As you lay there, still trembling from the intensity, your body aching in all the right ways, your mind is a swirl of confusion. The walls you’ve built so carefully around your heart are crumbling, and for the first time in years, you feel something close to vulnerability. Terry, with all his heat, intensity, and promises of more, has unlocked something inside you. But a part of you still wonders—should this just be a one-time thing, or are you ready to risk it all? You close your eyes, trying to breathe through the thick sexual tension that lingers in the air. But when you feel Terry’s presence next to you, his hand gently caressing your skin, the question lingers in your mind— do you really want to open yourself up to love again? Or is this simply just getting a nut in while you sort out your Nana’s last wishes?

Now ain’t this bout a bitch!………

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godmadeaterribleerror · 9 days ago

Text

Chapter 13 - You'll Have to Believe It

Series Masterlist - Main Masterlist

Author's Note: So much is happening for them. All at once. And please welcome Bobby to Sam's "Jesus Christ can these two just kiss" club. Enjoy!

Chapter title from Love Is Emotional by Neil Finn

Word Count: 17.5k

Chapter Summary/Warnings: You throw yourself into saving Dean, and get a surprise visitor. Usual warnings.

Tags: Dean Winchester/Female Reader, enemies to friends to lovers, canon divergence, slow burn, angst, fluff, pining, action

Chapter 12 - Chapter 14

Read on A03!

She and Dean had been hiding for an hour. Tucked in the very back of a library, with one eye on the door.

Dean thought he could—if permitted—spend the rest of his life here. Where She was right there with him, their knees were pressed together with neither of them bothering to move away, and two paper coffee cups had been long forgotten the table.

Dean had abandoned his because he didn’t really fucking need it—She kept chewing on Her pencil and looking at him, and that was stronger than a shot of caffeine right into his blood stream—but She had stopped drinking because it slowed Her down.

She seemed to know this random, tiny, dusty old library better than the actual librarians. When they’d arrived, She’d ignored the greeting from the desk and blazed right to the back, combing over the shelves and pulling out about a million books on the occult.

“These are yours.” She’d pushed three of the smaller ones across the table to Dean, barely moving Her own attention from her own selection. “Remember, you’re not look for anything explicit. Demons won’t have been advertising how to do this, we need to look for historical exceptions or leverage over Lilith-“

“That we can use to force the contract away from her.” Dean had finished, and She’d narrowed her eyes at him. “I’ve heard the lecture, Princess-“

“I’m sorry I’m trying to save your life-“

“I’m not.” He’d shrugged, shooting Her a half grin as he flipped his own book open. “It’s pretty awesome.”

Her eyes had flashed, She’d mumbled something Dean hadn’t been able to make out, but She’d also relaxed. Almost slumped in Her seat as she leaned over her own, tome-like book—starting to take notes at a pace Dean could only describe as frightening—and he’d grinned as he’d looked to his own book, because that always worked.

It's all become routine.

They wake up in another new town, and Dean will roll over to find Her still there. Still asleep at his side, still possible to touch if he’d allow himself to. They find a local library—Sammy might try to offer a case as distraction, and She’ll snap that they don’t have time for distraction—and get to work.

Mostly She will work. Dean will try to work, but he’ll spend most of his time trying to make sure She doesn’t kill Sammy, and wasn’t going to somehow twist in on Herself and bite off her own, pretty head.

Because She’s still here. Despite Dean’s lingering nightmares that She’d vanish into dust and fire, maybe spit on his body before it was even in the grave, She’d stayed.

But She was still furious. Not at Dean—although he knew that, if he got out of this alive, She might skin him alive for lying to Her, right before patching him back together just by staying where Dean could orbit around Her, and he’d let Her without protest—but at everything.

She was on edge. Dean had to drag Her to sleep, and if he didn’t wake Her up the exact second light leaked into the motel room, She’d spend the whole morning muttering about moments lost.

And sometimes he couldn’t help himself from letting the time slip by. Those brief, silent seconds in the morning where She was relaxed—and peaceful and beautiful and there—were a better motivator than any speech Bobby could give him. The soft, silver and golden light of the morning made Her hair look like a halo, and there were no lines drawn on Her face from focus or stress in Dean’s name. Labor in his favor that he hadn’t earned, but was unable to deny.

He’d given Her the out. He’d told Her she could leave, and he’d never blame Her or hate her for it. There would be a large, gaping hole in the cavity of his chest—bigger and emptier and more painful than the pit, just a little to the right of his heart—for the rest of his fucking life, but he’d never hate Her. She should’ve left. She was smart enough to have known Dean wasn’t worth lost sleep or a war with demons, and a good enough hunter to know this would be impossible. That they’d need a borderline miracle to pull it off.

But She’d stayed.

It was why Dean loved that second in the morning so much. He could stare at Her and marvel in the fact that She was the miracle, where Sammy wouldn’t roll his eyes, and She wasn’t at risk of finding out.

He didn’t know why She’d stayed. He’d never make any sense of it. Why She was allowing him to still be her friend when he’d lied, why She was ripping Herself apart in his name—spending hours in the dark, hanging over books with a flashlight until Dean grumbled that she needed to rest, and She let him drag her to bed—and why neither Sam or Bobby seemed surprised.

“You tell her?” Bobby had asked when they’d arrived at his house, looking over his shoulder as She’d stomped inside with a look of determination on Her face that could’ve moved mountains.

“She found out.” Sam had given Bobby a pointed look Dean hadn’t understood. “I’d, uh- She’s not happy.”

Bobby had snorted, shaking his head. “No shit, boy. I’m surprised you two idjits are still alive, after pulling that on her-“

“You helped, Bobby.” Dean had grumbled. “It’s not like I’m the only one who lied to her-“

“But it wasn’t our lives on the line, dumbass.” Bobby had moved back inside with a shrug, and Dean has blinked at him.

“What’s that supposed to mean-“

“It means you’re lucky she’s only pissed at you-“

“She not that pissed at him.” Sam had fucking chirped from behind them, like this was all some sort of joke Dean wasn’t allowed to be in on. “They’re still sharing a bed-“

“They’re what.” Bobby had whipped around, his eyes narrowed on Dean, and Sam should’ve gotten his nose broken right there.

“Sam.” Dean had grunted. “I’m gonna fucking kill you-“

Sam had only shrugged and headed upstairs, abandoning Dean where Bobby was very likely about to murder him before the hellhounds had the chance.

“He’d find out when you put your stuff in Her room, dude.” Sam had called over his shoulder, a shit-eating grin on his face. “Good luck!”

“In her room?”

“It’s- uh- Bobby it’s not like that-“

“Not like what.”

Dean had blinked, every single explanation he’d ever had suddenly caught in his throat. It wasn’t like that—like what they both knew Bobby was implying, like what Sam had made it sound like—but that didn’t mean Dean wasn’t haunted by the thought of it. It didn’t mean that every time he rolled over and She was there, he didn’t imagine a world where he was worthy enough to have Her open her eyes, smile at him, and crawl over his body until they were so close he’d never be able to lose Her.

He’d had a feeling Bobby would be able to see right through any lie he offered. Dean was pretty sure Bobby was almost listening to every thought of Her, soft skin and shining hair and smelling like that stupid fucking fruit, better than a drink, better than a drug, better than anything else in the world and bright than the goddamn sun, and wouldn’t it be real damn nice to hold the Sun and kiss it stupid and fuck it until She was moaning his name and smiling all the time-

Bobby had cleared his throat, and Dean had let out a long breath, scratching the back of his next and refusing to meet Bobby’s eyes.

“That.” His answer had been flat, and he’d felt just as stupid as he’d sounded.

Bobby had only rolled his eyes. “She know it’s not like that?”

“Does-“ Dean had frowned, shaking his head. “Course she does, it’s- We don’t have to- I mean, it’s your house, and she’s your- Uh- I can sleep on the couch-“

“Dean!” She’d called from the library, and the way he’d stood a little taller—just from the sound, on pure instinct alone—hadn’t done him any favors.

“Uh,” he’d glanced at Bobby, who’d just been glaring at him like he was imaging Dean’s head, mounted on the wall. “Yeah?”

“Come here!”

“I- uh-“ Dean had swallowed, physically bracing his body to stop himself from moving to Her side. “I’m-“

“Haul ass, Winchester,” She’d cut him off with a half shout, and he’d been able to perfectly picture her glaring at the doorway from her chair. “I need you.”

There had been no hiding his reaction to that. Bobby’s eyes had flashed slightly, but he’d mostly just sighed, running a hand over his face and raising his voice to match Her’s.

“Dean’ll be right there, kiddo, give ‘im a second.” He’d scanned over Dean with an unreadable expression, his voice lowering back to a grunt. “Be careful, boy. She may not be able to bring herself to kill ya, but if you make ‘er cry, I’m not gonna have the same reservations. Don’t think Sam’ll either.”

He’d started to move away, and the only thing that had jolted Dean to action was the thought of Her. One of the countless, infinite things he owed Her, just for being alive where Dean could witness it.

“I- uh- Bobby-“

Bobby had grunted, and Dean had forced the words out, before he lost the nerve.

“Can I take a look at the junk cars later? I’m trying to, uh-“ This hadn’t been about to do him any favors. He’d said it anyway, keeping Her name casual and normal on his tongue, rather than more of a prayer than any Latin he’d ever heard. “She wants a car.”

Bobby has stared at him for a long moment, then given a tight nod that had made Dean’s whole body relax.

He wasn’t getting shot today.

“Look when you got the time.” Bobby had muttered. “But I’d go to the library first. Think she’ll drag ya if you don’t.”

Dean had nodded, and shuffled over the library, a grin breaking over his face the moment he saw Her.

He’d found a scrap car that afternoon, while She and Bobby were out getting dinner. One that needed enough work to be interesting—to be proof that Dean was really trying, for Her—but wouldn’t consume all his time when they visited.

They’d spent more than half of the last month at Bobby’s when they weren’t on the road to look for other options. They’d show up without warning, Bobby would roll his eyes and tell Her they could stay as long as they wanted, and everyone would silently agree to pretend Dean wasn’t sleeping in Her room. He’d even go to one of the guest rooms when they all headed off to bed, nod to Sam as he closed the door—Sam would snort, and Dean would ignore it—and wait for everyone to be asleep before sneaking into Her room.

They never went past that. And Dean might be plague by fantasies and weak futures of more, but he didn’t want more. He was already demanding too much of Her. He couldn’t ask for more, for everything, for every bit of Her she’d care to give him. He already couldn’t believe he was still allowed in Her bed at all, let alone offered Her hand holding his in the dark, and a mumble of night, De, every time he’d crawl under Her covers.

So the car was reparation. A silent plea for Her to never, ever leave him, even when he more than deserved it. An apology for keeping secrets, for only ever taking and destroying and ruining things, for never being able to stop, never managing to stay away. He’d find lame excuses to head out to the yard while She was reading, and he’d get a little closer, and know She may have even forgotten about his half-joking promise to fix Her a car, but he needed to give Her something.

At the pace he’d hit, Dean would have the car ready before this all… finished.

He wasn’t allowed to say before he died or before his death.

The words die and death were no longer permitted in the Impala, motel rooms, Bobby’s house, or any other place where She may be within earshot. And She couldn’t read Dean’s mind—Dean was almost positive She couldn’t read his mind—but he was still trying not to use them in his head. For Her.

If She was going to drive Herself mad trying to save Dean—fucking Dean, of all people She was losing her mind over Dean—the least he could do is not think of it as his death.

He didn’t want it to be. He wanted a way out of this, a way to stay with Her, no matter how simply impossible that seemed to be.

And it wasn’t like there wouldn’t be… other problems when they got out of this. Two very specific problems they were hiding from right now.

The first reason was the only thing keeping them from staying at Bobby’s for the remainder of Dean’s time.

The demons.

They’d started to turn out of every shadow and corner, all fixed on Her, all screeching about the Knife they’d stolen from that British douchebag, taunting them about how Lilith wanted it more than almost anything, and sneering that they’d never have a second of peace as long as they kept trying to keep safe what was rightfully of Hell.

“You should ditch the blade.” Ruby had snapped, arms crossed in the dark of their motel room. “It’s not worth all the running, not when sweet little Dean is almost hellhound chow-“

“He’s got time.” She’d hissed, and Ruby had tensed. The bitch seemed to still be afraid of Her, and Dean understood that. In the shadows and dim lights, She looked more like a vengeful god than a human. “And I’ll eat fucking glass before I hand this thing over.”

Ruby had rolled her eyes. “I didn’t say hand it over, just put it somewhere safe until this whole mess is cleaned up-“

“What about eat glass are you not understanding-“

“The part where you’re endangering everything, you spoiled little bitch-“

“Watch it.” Dean had snapped, taking a firm step forward that Ruby hadn’t flinched from, but had the brains to shut her mouth. “She says we’re not giving up the knife, we’re not giving up the damn knife.”

Ruby had scoffed. “Really. You spend so long keeping each other in the dark, and one secret out in open gets her claws back into you? I expected better from you, Deano-“

“Ruby,” She’d lowered her voice, tilting Her head slightly. “I’d recommend you shut the fuck up. Now.”

“I’m just making an observation,” Ruby had shrugged, even as she’d eyed Her wearily. “No need to lose your shit-“

She’d taken a step forward, and that had gotten to Ruby. Under Her glare and cold words, the bitch has taken a shaking step back, and no amount of scrambling to regain control would fool Dean. He’d seem the widening of Ruby’s eyes, and known that Ruby was really afraid of Her. He may not trust any other part of the demon, but he trusted that. It wasn’t a show, or an act.

There was no faking the taut sound of worry Ruby had let out, or how she’d braced herself against the dresser.

“Keep going.” She had sneered, pulling the Blade out of Her jacket and spinning it in her hand. “Let’s find out just what me losing my shit looks like-“

Sam had said Her name cautiously, and somehow managed not to balk as Her glare had turned in his direction. “I- Look, I’m on your side, but we can’t kill Ruby-“

“You’re on her side?” Ruby had snapped, staring at Sam with borderline indignance. “She’s crazy, Sam, do you really think she can be trusted with that knife more than me-“

“I think you should know better than to push her.” Sam had muttered, and Dean had frowned.

He didn’t know what that meant. What Sammy was implying, why She’d had such a strong reaction—it had been hot, and Dean would pay good money to see Her rip Ruby to shreds any given day, but it still seemed stronger than he’d expected—or why She was hanging on to the Blade so tight.

Why Sam was backing Her up on it, when he’d been the one who wanted to give over the arrowhead. But he was. Sam had told Ruby that they were keeping the Blade. Specifically, She was keeping the Blade, and Ruby would have to go through Sam and Dean to get it away from Her.

The threat had worked, but Dean was pretty sure it hadn’t been because of Sam.

It was because behind Sam, Dean had been able to see Her. Looking at Ruby like She could make the bitch implode with only a thought, and Ruby staring at Her like that was true.

“I-“ Ruby had cleared her throat, her whole body braced as she’d looked back to Sam, and raised her chin. “Fine. Be that stupid. But if you’re not going to make her drop it, you need to drop her.”

Sam had blinked, Dean had felt his fists clench, and Ruby must have been trying to get fucking shot. His gun had been on the table. If She hadn’t laughed like the whole thing was only boring and amusing, and the sound hadn’t made Ruby flinch like it was worse than a gunshot—when to Dean, it was better than any song or hymn in the world—the bitch would’ve ended up with a bullet through her skull.

“That’s hilarious.” She’d sneered at Ruby, Her pretty mouth curved in a mocking grin. “That’s- You know, you’re a lot funnier than I thought-“

“I’m serious.” Ruby had snapped, and She’d just raised her brows in amusement. “You want to be a petulant little bitch-“

“Ruby.” Dean had grunted, taking a sidestep to block Her from view. “Last fucking warning, then I shoot.”

“Oh, you shoot?” Ruby had rolled her eyes. “Threatening, Dean. You’ll shoot me with a normal, boring gun that won’t do fucking shit-“

“It’ll hurt.” Dean had shrugged. “Long as you’re suffering, bitch, I’m happy.”

“Aw, look at you going to bat for the great whore-“

Dean had taken a step forward, and been caught by Her hand on his arm. He’d shot Her a look of disbelief over his shoulder, and gotten only three blinks in return.

Three blinks.

Everything was fine.

It hadn’t fucking felt fine, but She’d said it was fine.

He’d stood down.

Ruby had laughed. Loud and dry and cruel.

“Look at you, Dean, standing down like a good, muzzled dog-“

“Ruby.” Sam had snapped, his interference maybe the only thing that had saved Ruby from Her wrath—Her grip on Dean’s arm becoming painful, Her body tensing behind his—and the sharp end of one of Her knives. “That’s enough. We’re not dropping anyone, or anything. Let’s- Can we please just get back to making a plan to deal with the demons, instead of killing each other?”

She’d muttered an agreement, Dean had followed suit, and they’d all somehow managed not to strangle each other for the remainder of the time in that motel room. And Sam had kept backing Her up, every time—that day and since—Ruby had brought up dropping the Blade.

It hadn’t left Her side since they’d gotten it. Dean was over trying to understand why, and he was mostly just grateful Sam was keeping Her and Ruby separated.

That was the second reason they were hiding in this library. Sam had warned that Ruby was heading to give them a new lead on Lilith, and it was in all their best interest for Her and Ruby to be kept apart.

“We could drop her, Princess.” Dean had offered a week ago, watching Her patch up a wound on his shoulder, the aftermath of their latest run-in with demons. “You tell me you want her gone, she’s gone.”

She’d shaken Her head, but Dean hadn’t missed the small smile that had tugged at her lips. “We need her, De.”

“Nah, I don’t think we do-“

“Sam says we need her.” She’d murmured, frowning at Her stitches on Dean’s skin. “And it’s- We have to have options. Alternatives.”

There had been a long moment of silence, and Dean had wished he didn’t know exactly what She was talking about.

They hadn’t found any leads that stuck. They had two months, and no way forward. She never spoke about it, and Dean knew better than to bring it up, but the horizon was bleak. He’d stopped counting the mornings She woke up at his side, because it made a heavy weight press on his chest, and made it so much harder not to reach over and touch Her. Just once. Before this was finished.

The only thing that kept Dean’s hands to himself was repeating over and over that he couldn’t do that to Her, no matter how careful Her touch was on his skin, how gentle Her words were as they spoke, how bright Her eyes remind when she looked at him.

Dean might be the luckiest son of a bitch in the world, and She might want him in a microscopic and thin way—only on the surface, only the body he’d offered countless woman before instead of the barest, most raw part of his essence he’d always pour into Her hands without thought—but he couldn’t do that.

Not like this.

Not when he deserved Her less than he ever had, and he couldn’t possibly be worthy of Her light when he’d be buried under dirt and stone so soon.

He couldn’t think like that. It made everything worse.

But that didn’t stop his hand from catching Her wrist, his gaze from locking onto Her’s and his voice dropping to barely a rasp as his heart bloomed in his chest.

“I’m serious,” he’d muttered Her name, not even sure what he was referring to anymore. Serious about dropping Ruby. Serious about not needing anything but Her. Serious about how all She’d ever need to do is say the word, and Dean would find a way for the world to bend to Her will.

Not that he’d ever need to.

The world seemed to do that just fine on its own for almost anything, except for this.

Except for Dean.

She’d offered him a sweet, almost sad smile, and nodded. “I know, Dean. So am I.”

She’d finished on his arm. It still hurt, even a week—another stop at Bobby’s, another two Demon attacks, another twenty dead ends—later, and Dean had been a little more tired than usual, but he’d be fine.

A bad shoulder was the least of their problems, when Ruby was talking to Sam and they had to keep watch on demons between the shelves of the library.

The Blade was out on the table. Smooth, polished metal, hilt faced towards Her, covered in a bunch of strange symbols and glinting in the light-

“Don’t touch it.”

Dean blinked at Her. “I wasn’t-“

“Yeah, you were.” She didn’t look up from Her book, but she was smiling at the pages. “Don’t.”

“Whatever, Princess. I didn’t wanna touch your stupid knife anyway.”

“Uh huh.” She shot him an amused look. “Sure, Deano.”

“Just a dumb knife.” He muttered, glowering at the pages of his own book. “Maybe I was wondering if we could use it to carve the contract out of Lilith, when we find her-“

She let out a long breath, shaking Her head. “That won’t work.”

“But Ruby said-“

“Since when do you trust a word Ruby says?” She raised Her brows at him, and Dean paused.

He wasn’t sure.

But the bitch did seem to know a least more than they did about the Blade, and she’d spent the last month—between fights with Her about how they should use it—telling them about how it was dangerous, and could be used to kill anything unholy, which was why Lilith was sending so many demons after them to find it. It could kill her, and—even if Dean trusted Ruby less than he believed in angels—it lined up. Made sense.

But She’d said that like it was wrong.

So Dean blinked at Her, speaking with slow, carefully chosen words. “You, uh- Anything else you want to tell me about that thing, Princess?”

He nodded to the Blade, and She sighed, still not looking up from Her book.

“What Ruby’s been saying is bullshit.” She muttered, frowning at the pages. “It- It’s total fucking bullshit. More make-believe than dragons.”

Dean gave Her a small grin. “But not aliens? Or unicorns?”

“No,” She hummed. “Those things are real. Alternate life through the universe is almost impossible to not exist, and Unicorns attack and eat virgins.”

“That’s-“ Dean blinked at Her, shaking his head. “You’re telling My Little Pony is after virgins like a creepy fuckin’ vampire-“

She hummed, nodding absentmindedly as She made another note from her book. “They’re creepier than creepy vampires. I hunted one with Rufus once.” She pissed, glancing up at Dean with a frown. “You can’t tell Bobby that. He still thinks I just tripped and fell.”

“Bad hunt?”

“Yeah.” She swallowed, looking back Her book with a slight flush. “I still think you should let me talk to Ruby.”

Dean shook his head. “You’re the one who said we needed to keep her around, sweetheart-“

“And I meant it,” She shrugged. “But that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t be allowed to like, yell at her or something-“

“What’d you want to yell at her about?”

“Being a lying fucking cunt.” She muttered, scowling at Her notebook as she took another note and Dean bit back a snort.

“You gonna tell me how she’s lying?”

She sighed. “I- It’s compli-“

Dean drawled Her name, giving Her a pointed look. “C’mon, Princess. Don’t say it.”

Her mouth twitched slightly. Barely a movement. Still more than enough. “We need to focus on the research, Winchester-“

“We got time.” He shrugged, leaning back in his chair. “Sammy said Ruby was gonna be on his ass about the Blade all day. Might as well know everything I can about it, right? You’re the one who’s always telling me to pay more attention the lore.”

She glared at him, but he’d gotten Her attention away from the book. A small victory. “I tell you to pay more attention overall. You’re already good with the lore. Stop trying to distract me.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,”he said Her name with a wink, bumped their feet under the table, and got another flush. Hitched breath. “And if you’re not gonna let me touch it, least you can do it talk to me-“

“I’m going to stab you.”

“That’s pretty freakin’ rude-“

“Shut up.”

“Bossy.”

She wrinkled Her nose at him. “You’re a massive toddler-“

“You love it.” He waved Her off with his widest, most winning grin, and scored better than winning lottery numbers. Flush. Hitched breath. Parted mouth. “You’re not gonna entertain a dying man’s wish-“

He was a toddler. Dean knew he was all put pulling at Her pigtails until She paid attention to him, and when Her gaze snapped up from book, he knew he’d won.

He was maybe about to get actually stabbed, but he’d won.

“You’re not dying.” She said, Her voice suddenly strained and harsh. “You’ll be fine, Dean, you just have to shut up and let me read-“

He said her name slowly, leaning over the table. “You’ve already read that one. I know you have. And that one, and that one.” He nodded to a few more books in Her large pile, and a few of them were titles Dean hadn’t seen, but the majority were repeats. Books he’d seen in Her hands before, books that had given them nothing but dead-end leads and wasted time.

“I might have missed something.” She muttered, fidgeting with the corner of a page, and Dean shrugged.

“Maybe, but- Please.” He let out a long breath, bracing himself to be shot down. She might care about saving him, but that didn’t mean She owed him anything. It really meant the opposite. Dean shouldn’t be spared an extra second of Her time, let alone a single breath of Her full attention. “Gimme one hour, Princess. Tell me about the blade.”

She let out a long breath, glancing between the pile and Dean with an unreadable expression, and nodded slowly.

“One hour.” She muttered, place Her book back on the table. “That’s it.”

Dean grinned at Her—toothy and unrestrained, because he had Her, in the loosest sense possible, Dean had Her—and nodded to the Blade.

“I know Ruby’s a fucking liar.” He drawled, raising his brows. “But seems like you’ve got more to say about it, sweetheart. What the hell is up with that thing.”

She sighed, pulling the Blade into Her hands and twirling it with a bored, practiced ease that made Dean’s pants too tight, his mind flying to places it shouldn’t be allowed to wander. Those same fingers, holding him like that, gliding up and down with deliberate, taunting movement, building him up until those pretty lips wrapped around him and he got to lose control with a fist in shining hair-

“I’ve been reading,” She muttered, and Dean had to cough to cover up how he’d been about to start drooling.

“Really, Princess? I hadn’t noticed-“

“Shut up. There’s- Sam said this thing and the arrowhead were connected, and sometimes certain people limit my access to the library-“

Dean swallowed at Her glare. “That’s, uh- Bobby said you wouldn’t eat if we didn’t stop you-“

“So I’ve been stealing Sam’s laptop and reading on that instead. Figuring out what the deal with this,” She placed the knife back on the table, and started to twist Her rings on her fingers. “Is.”

Lie. That was a lie. Dean didn’t know exactly where the lie was, but he knew that She’d lied, and before he could open his mouth and call Her out on that, she continued talking, and the moment passed by.

“It’s called a solemn oath weapon.” She said, watching the Blade with a frown. “They’re part of a discovery in the 1400s, in the middle east, but most of them were lost again after like, a hundred years.”

Dean nodded slowly. “Why’d you say discovery like that-“

“They were part of a, uh- Kind of a native population. But they got wiped out, or vanished, or something. I couldn’t find much about them, and I’ve been looking for like, a while. Pretty much all of the lore about them and the weapons has been lost, but we know their mythology was like, soul gods or something.”

“Soul gods.” Dean repeated, staring at Her with a frown. “I- what?”

“I know.” She muttered, exhaling through Her teeth. “I told you it was complicated.”

“Just- Gimme a second.” Dean took a long breath, frowning at the Blade as his hands drummed on the table, his head turning too fast to keep up with. “You said- What, solemn oath?”

She nodded, and he felt his frown deepen.

That phrase was tugging on something in the back of his skull. He’d heard that before. He’d- Dean could fucking swear he’d heard that before. He’d been reading something about demons in Norway, or Denmark, maybe Germany, and it had been full of old words, and he’d stolen Sam’s laptop, and-

“You said native people.” His words were slow, his brain still rattling to try and drag a fogged memory to the surface. “I- What native people-“

She swallowed. “It’s, uh- Kind of a tribe. Into, like, witch things. All women.”

That didn’t help. There were women everywhere. But Dean knew he’d heard—technically read—the term solemn oath, and he’d read it multiple times because the stupid online translator was horrible, but the only one available because that book had been so damn old-

“And they didn’t really worship gods,” She continued, frowning at the Blade. “I mean, like the soul gods thing is just a theory, but they were talking about souls a lot, so the old European assholes assumed it was a god situation-“

“Son of a bitch.” Dean muttered, and he leaned forward to grab Her hand as lightning almost shot through his body, the memory vaulting to the surface. “That’s- Shit, that was it. Solemn oath means soul, in like, ancient German or something.”

“Ancient German-“

“Not- it’s not called that. But- I dunno, Princess, I was reading something about demons and this word kept popping up, and it was in a real old language, so I looked it up and it kept saying it translated to solemn oath.” Dean ran a hand over his face, squeezing his grip on Her hand. “Shit, it took me like an hour to work out, but- You know how bat can mean like, baseball or bird-rat?”

She wrinkled Her nose at him. “Bird-rat?”

Dean grunted Her name—this was goddamn serious, he’d figured something out and She needed to appreciate that—and She only gave him a too-sweet smile in return.

“Yeah, De. I know what bat means.”

“Yeah, well, this word was like bat. It meant solemn oath, and soul. You- the freakin’ soul gods-“

Her eyes widened, and Dean saw the moment it hit Her. Felt it. Her fingers tangled in his, holding him like She was trying to strangle his hand, and all the blood seemed to drain from Her pretty face as she swallowed.

“Fuck. That’s-“ She looked to the Blade, then to Her own hand in Dean’s, and shook her head. “You’re right.”

Dean nodded, a something in his chest was glowing. She’d said he was right. She thought he was right. He’d figured something out, he’d been useful, he couldn’t hold Her attention a little longer because she might not look happy with the information, but She was holding his hand and staring at him with an open, almost awe-struck expression—and he was sure he was reading it wrong, and he didn’t really care—so he felt like nothing could ever be wrong again. As long as She kept looking at him like that, the contract would simply dissolve into the air, and Ruby would crumble to ash, and the ache in Dean’s shoulder from the demon attack would simply heal over in a heartbeat.

It didn’t. It had started to throb as rain fell outside, and his body tensed, and She noticed.

Of course She fucking noticed.

“Dean-“

“I’m fine.” He grunted, forcing himself to release Her hand. “Does Sammy know about all this?”

She shook Her head, still watching Dean with a small frown. “No. Not this.”

Dean frowned. “But Ruby-“

“He knows if I’m saying no to Ruby, I have a good reason.” She sighed, running Her thumb over her palm. “I don’t want to keep putting him in the middle of everything. It’s- You guys are still angry about the motel, and he had to hide the deal from me for months. He shouldn’t have to worry about this too.”

“Yeah, uh-“ Dean swallowed, something crawling over his skin and festering in his gut that was made of burden. He’d been making Sam keep secrets, and stressing Her out, and he might have been useful here but it was undercut by the worry he could see in Her eyes, focus on him as his shoulder throbbed again, and he tensed, and sickening, throat-wrapping burden-

Her eyes narrowed, and Dean spoke before She could mention his second wince.

“I’m not mad at Sammy ‘bout that anymore.” He muttered, watching his knuckles tap on the table as he avoided Her gaze. “I- uh- Bigger fish. And it’s not like it was that big a-“

Dean cut himself off, because he couldn’t even say it. It had been a big deal. He’d never stopped having nightmares where Her hand was wrapped around Her throat, and she was thrashing in his hold like a wild animal. But they had bigger issues. Worst things to deal with. He couldn’t fail Her and let himself die, just because Sam could be a secretive bitch sometimes.

And when he dared himself to glance up at Her, he didn’t recognize the expression on Her face. Her mouth was opening and closing as She kept Her thumb pressed to palm, and Her eyes were just as blinding as always but there was something guarded over Her features, something that made Her lean away from Dean in Her seat, even as Her eyes locked with his, and her voice came out in an oddly soft tone.

“Dean- I-“ She swallowed, Her whole body tensing as she continued. “I need to tell you-“

Her phone buzzed on the table, and She froze, giving Dean one last, strange look as she slowly moved to pick it up.

“It’s Sam.” She muttered, Her brow drawn in that wrinkle as she read over the text. “He and Ruby are going to look at another lead.”

Dean grunted, still frowning at Her. At Her thumb, scratching at the skin near Her nails as she spoke, because something was off. Not wrong. Son of a bitch, he hoped nothing was wrong. They didn’t have the energy or manpower for more things going wrong.

“He say what the lead is?”

She nodded, re-reading the message. “Something in Minnesota, multiple crossroads demons in one town. It’s only a few hours away, and he thinks they’ll be back by tomorrow. He, uh- You’re supposed to have the key.” She looked up to Dean with raised brows. “You got the key?”

He nodded, pulling it out of his jacket to show Her. “He’s going with Ruby.”

“Ruby and I.” She read from the phone, the little wrinkle appearing at Her brow. “Evidently, yeah. Let’s, uh-“ She glanced out the pile of books, and let out a long breath. “You ready to head back? I can check these out-“

Dean snorted, giving Her a pointed look. “You’re gonna steal them, Princess, let’s be honest here-“

“Shut up.” She muttered, glancing around the them as She shoved the unread books into Her bag, and returned the rest to their shelves. “I’ll bring them back.” The wrinkle on Her brow deepened as she looked back, and found Dean only smirking at Her. “I will.”

Dean raised his hands in mock surrender. “I didn’t say anything-“

“Shut up-“

“Bossy- Fuck.”

Dean grunted as She kicked his shin, the pain from doubling over somehow shooting right up his shoulder, into the wound from before. It felt like something twisting a blade into the already sore spot, and a lower, almost guttural noise escaped it before he could stop it.

“Shit-“ She was at his side in a second, letting Dean lean over Her body—too perfect of a fit against his, soft and strong, drowning him in the smell of sugar and fruit—as She pulled at his shirt, tracing Her fingers over the stitches. “You fucking idiot-“

“You kicked me, sweetheart.” His voice wasn’t as indignant or angry as he’d wanted. Her touch was sending shivers over his skin. If he angled his head and got away with not looking like a creep, he’d be able to place every single color hidden in Her eyes. “It’s just sore-“

She drew Her hand away with a scowl, and Her fingers were red.

“That’s- uh-“ His head was spinning slightly. She was so pretty. “Your nail polish is runnin’-“

“That’s not how nail polish works, dumbass.” She snapped, slinging Dean’s arm over Her shoulder and reaching into his pocket. He didn’t know how to do anything but let Her. “I’m driving.”

Dean frowned, mostly at the air. “’S my car-“

“I am not losing you because Sam has weird blind spots, and thought medkit expiration dates could be optional.” She snapped. “You get the keys out of my hand, Deano, you can drive.”

He couldn’t. He made an odd, half-stepping lunge to grab them, groaned like a little bitch, and gave up. She could drive. She was awesome, and She could probably move the sun to shine at night, so Dean trusted Her with the Impala.

Bonus, he got to watch Her drive.

He hoped he died here. In the passenger’s seat of his Baby, watching the most everything woman he’d ever seen drive in a more erotic way than all the nudie magazines he’d used to keep hidden in Sammy’s backpack—if Sammy had gotten caught with them, he’d have gotten a lecture, but Dad would’ve sent Dean to a freakin’ nunnery or something—and every single motel porn flick he’d ever seen.

Dean had to focus on how She drove—where Her careful fingers rested on the wheel, how She sat on the bench like a queen on a throne, how She’d angled the mirror and propped her elbow on the window—to keep himself from getting a full-blown hard-on. He’d use the information to help himself work on Her car. The images would not haunt his imagination, turning into very explicit and detailed movies, playing as he slept his limited remaining nights and took showers with Her just a room over.

She was his friend. His friend who didn’t deserve that—no matter how he’d fantasized about how She maybe saw him a fraction of the way he revered Her—and who was very worried about him, from the demon contract to his open stitches. She was letting Dean lean against Her like this because she didn’t want him to hurt himself more. She was taking off his shirt because that’s where the injury was. She was touch him because She had to. To make sure he didn’t bleed out before the hellhounds ever even touch him.

Dean cleared his throat, saying Her name with a weaker voice than he would’ve wanted, but She was so close, and touching him, and pretty.

She hummed in acknowledgment, and Dean almost choked nothing as Her nails scraped at his skin.

“You worried about the demons?”

“In general?” She gave him a dry, amused look. “Or with the contract?”

“Uh,” he swallowed. “Both? And the, those Hell’s Assassins sons of bitches, what’d you think they want?”

She paused, and let out a long breath that was warm on Dean’s skin. “I think,” Her words were slow. Almost careful. “That the Assassins are the least important things going on right now. This,” She looped another stitch into Dean’s wound. “Wasn’t them. It was Lilith. And I’m pretty sure she’s not controlling them.”

Dean frowned at Her. “Why? They seem like the type of shit she’d pull. Big assholes swinging weapons at us, trying to take something we know she wants.”

“I- I just know. And I’m not worried about the demons, I don’t think. You’re- We’re going to be fine.”

“Well-“ Dean flinched at another stitch, and She gave him an apologetic look as She stilled the jerk of his body with a hand.

“Sorry.” She mumbled, and he just nodded a little stupidly. Her palm had callouses, but they weren’t as rough as the ones on his. They made Her seem more real. “You need to stay still, De. It’s- You’ll be okay, but you need to stay still.”

He nodded, watching Her fingers resume their movement once more as the silence lingered. These stitches didn’t hurt than any of the others he’d had. He didn’t need entertainment or distraction.

He’d still really like to hear Her voice.

“You know-“ He gave a dry chuckle, watching Her carefully. “If this is the thing that brings me down, I dunno how I got out of that British douchebag’s mansion without a scratch.”

She swallowed, not meeting Dean’s gaze. “This isn’t going to bring you down. And it’s a hazard of the job.”

It was. Dean scanned over Her beautiful, slightly guarded features, and frowned, because it was. And he’d thought for so long that She didn’t understand that, but knowing that She did was somehow worse. It meant She’d really chosen to sit in the mud, and it would burn Her the same way it burned all of them. Bobby and Dad and Sammy, even Jo had been born here.

But She’d chosen to be here. In the mud.

With Dean.

“What would you do if this wasn’t the job.” Dean asked the question before he could think it through, and barely got a stumble of Her fingers, so he pushed on. “If this wasn’t your job?”

She frowned at his shoulder. “I’d be in Chicago, probably forbidden from leaving the house, definitely never allow outside unsupervised-“

“No, I meant-“ Dean stared at Her, the word fully registering. “Unsupervised?”

“I wouldn’t be doing this if I hadn’t met Bobby.” She shrugged. “If I hadn’t met Bobby, my family would’ve found me. I was considered a flight risk at eight, before I’d even tried to flee. I don’t think all would’ve been forgiven and forgotten.”

She’d been doing that more, in the past month. Bringing up small, casual mentions of Her family Dean had to nod at, swallow down like a horse-pill, and let fuel his resolve to stay alive. If he died in two months, he wouldn’t be able to keep Her away from Her family for the rest of their lives.

“Yeah, uh,” he cleared his throat, shaking his head. “I know, Princess. I mean if we weren’t us. What you’d be doing then.”

She finally looked at him, obvious confusion painted over Her features and in Her brilliant eyes, so Dean continued.

“I wanted to be a firefighter.” He offered, giving Her a small grin. “You, uh, you ever thought about being an actress or something?”

“An actress?” She blinked at him, and he gave Her a pointed look.

“You lie a lot, sweetheart. And you’re pretty damn good at it.”

“Lying isn’t acting-“

“Yeah, but you’re good at that too-“

“Am I?” She looked back to Dean’s stitches, a small, pouting frown on Her face. “You always seem to know when I’m lying, Winchester.”

“I’m a genius, Princess. I don’t count.”

She rolled Her eyes, but a small giggle made its way into the air, and Dean took it as permission to continue.

“You gotta answer the actual question,” he drawled Her name, holding Her gaze as she glanced back up. “I showed you mine.”

“It’s- I’ve never, um,” She swallowed, something fragile flashing in Her eyes that Dean wanted to grab. Hold. Care for. “I’ve never thought about that. I just do this.”

Dean shook his head, his thumb itching to soothe the wrinkle in Her brow. “C’mon, there’s no way you’ve never even, I dunno, thought about doin’ something else. Something that wouldn’t get you fucking killed-“

“I haven’t.” She whispered, turning Her attention back to his shoulder. “Someone has to do this. Might as well be me.”

Dean opened his mouth to argue, to tell Her that She, of all fucking people, did not have to be the one who had to do this. She should be protected and worshipped, not sent to fight with faceless, expendable troops in the endless war against the dark. She should be above it all. Somewhere bight and untouchable and safe.

“You’re done.” She stepped back before he could speak, rubbing Her palm with her thumb as she shifted on Her feet. “I- Yeah. Done.”

He grunted, sparing only a quick glance at his stitches before starting to push to his feet, only to be shoved right back down.

“Hey-“

“Those are fresh stitches, Winchester.” She snapped, keeping Her hands firmly planted on his shoulders. “You need to rest so I don’t have to do them again.”

He shook his head—they had work to do, and Dean was still physically stronger than She was—and tried to move only fall flat on his back with a groan.

“De-“ She sighed, dropping on the mattress at his side. “I told you.”

“I’m fine, Princess.” He grunted, squeezing his eyes closed. “Just taking a minute. Need five, then I’ll be up.”

“You are not getting up, Winchester, or I swear to god-“

“Said I’m fine.” He muttered. “Gotta get up-“

She sighed from somewhere very close to him. “You need to rest-“

“I’ll rest when I’m dead-“

“That’s not funny, Dean.”

He opened his eyes, and She was right above him. Blinding eyes narrowed on his, hair falling onto his face, beautiful and intoxicating and there.

“You’re not going to die.”

He chuckled, but it was more of a grunt. “I’ve heard, sweetheart-“

“I’m serious.” She snapped, holding his gaze. “You’re going to live, and right now you’re going to fucking rest, Dean Winchester, or I’ll kill you.”

Full name.

She was serious.

He still couldn’t stand to just lay there. To be useless while She worked to save him, while she did everything when Dean was supposed to be the one serving Her.

“You can’t make me.” He muttered, sounding a little child, but it was a dare. Trying to trap Her into staying right here, into touching him more, into being where Dean could live and drown in Her because he was a creep and pathetic and She could probably already see that-

“Come on, you big baby.” She muttered, moving out of his vision but keeping a hand in his hair. Like a tether. A lifeline. A silent promise that She was still there.

He made a weak, confused noise—he was going to blame it on the wound, still painful, draining his energy and fogging his brain and maybe She was right, maybe he did need to rest before he made another completely pathetic sound—and let Her tug him up to headboard, his head suddenly resting against Her stomach, Her fingers still in his hair, his body splayed out of their bed as She wrapped his arms around Her waist.

Dean was already dead. He had to already be dead, because there was no other logically explanation for Her touching him like this. Holding him like this. Holding Dean like he mattered, and if he weren’t to just bite the bullet and rest, it would be the worst thing in the entire world.

But She was. Dean could feel it in Her warm body, pressed right against him, that this mattered to Her. Dean, somehow—with a stroke of immeasurable luck or a debt to a god he’d never be able to repay—was really fucking critical to Her. Vital. Impossibly important to how Her heart was pounding in her chest, and finger were playing with his hair, and voice was impossibly soft.

“You’re not a machine, De.” She mumbled, and Dean didn’t know what he was.

Maybe Her’s.

More than Her weapon. Her shadow.

It was the silent longing he’d shoved down for years. The idea that he could be Her shadow, always a pace behind Her, always caring for Her as no one else could, pulling Her apart in the dark where no one but he could see, and spilling blood in Her name if anything dared to think they could possibly hurt Her.

“Can you please tell me you’re going to rest?” Her tone was pleading, but it didn’t need to be. She was a siren, and if She told Dean to drown himself, he would, just as long as it was in Her.

He rolled over to hold Her gaze and nodded, and something went loose in Her eyes.

“Thank you.”

Then She started to move, and Dean grabbed Her wrist on pure instinct.

“Where’re you-“

“I was- You need rest-“

Dean frowned. “I can rest with you here.”

“But-“

“Stay.” He squeezed his hold on Her wrist, his voice barely a breath, and She swallowed, glancing to back to Her bag, on the table, full of books that could be Dean’s salvation.

He didn’t need them.

She was here.

“I need to read-“

“I want you here. Please.” He let the words fall out of him, because if this finished and he was gone, he selfishly would need this. Just once. He needed to be fully folded into Her, to know She cared, to just know this could’ve been possible past the year. “Stay.”

She was staring at him. Only staring at him. Not leaving, but not saying she wouldn’t leave, and Dean was already all in.

“C’mon, Princess.” He grinned at Her, charming and lazy, and prayed it would be enough. “At least until I'm down.”

"Yeah. Okay." She mumbled, and Dean's smile probably looked dopey and stupid, and he didn't care.

"You'll-"

"I'll stay."

“Promise.” He raised his pinky, even as his body became heavy, and a soft smile lit up Her every feature.

“Promise.” Her finger's kept combing through Dean's hair—making him feel a little like a puppy—as Her free hand locked a pinky with his. Until you're down."

He nodded, and buried his face in Her chest, because right now he was allowed to. "All the way down?"

He barely heard Her whispered response before sleep overtook him.

"All the way down.”

——————

This is going to kill you. Before the demons find Dean, this is going to kill you.

You can’t let it break to the surface. How the pain and fury that’s been building in your gut might be just as dangerous as the Darkness. How it’s feels like you’re hanging by the same, frayed thread that’s wrapped around Dean’s neck, and if he goes down some part of you will go right down with him.

It might be the spiderweb. The iridescent light that’s running through you like blood, sings under Dean’s attention, and feels just as vital as an organ. It’s not strained at the knowledge that you’re running out of time—because no matter how you shape it, how you pretend that every day is a little longer than reality, you are running out of time—but it is white-hot and loud.

Dean is right here, all the time now, and it’s making the spiderweb impossibly loud. Colorful and filled with fireworks, glowing all the time because Dean is here, but that might not be forever. You can feel the spiderweb everywhere in your body, and it doesn’t feel thin or weak, but it’s made of every grin Dean offers you, every wink thrown in your direction, every touch of him under a table or in passing movement.

You can’t lose him. You’ve been stuck on that grinding, rough loop since the manor. You can’t lose Dean. You can’t. You only have two months and that’s time but it’s not enough because you can’t lose Dean.

And it still hurts. A little more than the usual pain that’s always lived in your body, because that’s infinite.

You’ve always been in that pain, and the Darkness has always bubbled and rioted in your body, and you’ve always gotten through it. You can dig your nails into your skin or bang your head on the wall for a moment of different pain, a second of control, a false promise or diversion from the sickness you’ve long accepted will never be cured.

But this pain is different. This is new. It’s temporary, and it hurts more. Because it’s either going to vanish into nothing when you fix this—Dean walking away in two months without a scratch—or it’s going to grow. The numb, hollow pain will grow over the spiderweb and burn a hole into the White, filling up the depressions where Dean was supposed to stay.

You need him to stay. You can’t lose him, and he’s not gone yet, but there’s not enough time and you can’t lose Dean-

You’re caught in the loop again.

You need to learn how to pull yourself out, before the end of this. If there’s any chance that you’re going to need to learn how to live with this new, unbearable pain, you have to learn how to not get stuck.

Hopefully you can learn it soon.

You can’t afford distractions, either.

But you’d wasted too much time. You want to be angry with Dean for hiding this from you—for maybe damning himself, because you’re starting with your hands tied behind your back, and this isn’t enough time—but you’re mostly just in pain. In pain and exhausted, but you can’t stop moving, and all the pain inside you is aimed at you.

You’d been gone, and he’d made the deal to save Sam. If you’d been there, he never would’ve needed to save Sam. You wouldn’t have allowed Sam dying to happen, and if he had, you would’ve found a better option where you’d got to keep Dean.

You’ve never gotten to keep him before.

But you would’ve fucking found a way. And you can’t blame Dean for not finding a way, because you can hear him and Sam tell you exactly what happened, and you know that—if it was you left alive, and Bobby was dead on the ground—you would’ve stopped thinking in favor of saving Bobby now. But that’s why Dean had needed you there, to keep him level and find another way.

You’ve always found another way. Everything has been impossibly hard, but you’ve found another way.

Yet you can’t even find one way. Not for this. You don’t need two. You don’t need a good, easy way. You just need a way. A light to follow out of this tunnel down, before Dean continues without you and you’re left, stranded and alone and sicker than you’ve ever been.

A way that won’t hurt him more than hell could, than you already have.

“I’m just pitchin’ it one last time.” Bobby had said in his kitchen last week, all of you gathered in with hushed voices while Dean was outside. “You know I don’t like it, kiddo, but your hocus pocus, you said it’s worked healin’ him before-“

“And the demons.” Sam had added, giving you a nervous look. “You said you- Uh, you took care of those demons that attacked you at the manor. You could-“

“No.” You’d snapped. They’d both already pitched this. Twice. The answer was always going to be no. “I- I’m not fucking doing that. I’m not risking it-“

Bobby had said your name slowly, cautiously. As if you were a wild animal. “But if we knew it would work-“

“We couldn’t know. There are no trial runs, no record of anything like me-“

“What if we found a trial run?” Sam had rubbed the back of his neck as he spoke, keeping an eye on the door in case Dean decided to come back in early. “I mean, people make deals with demons all the time, we’d just have to find someone-“

“No.” You’d hissed, twisting the rings on your fingers. “I- no. Just because I can see souls doesn’t mean I can change them-“

Bobby had frowned. “But you said you’d healed Dean before-“

“Physically. I’ve healed physical wounds, and even that-“ You choked on your own words, picking at the skin of your nails pure Gold, now laced with cool, silver light flashed over your vision.

You’d done something to him. You weren’t sure he could feel it—if it hurt or eased him or was simply unknowable to Dean as he moved through the day—but you know you’d changed something in his soul.

Because that had become painfully clear. All the colors were souls. You’d pitched that to Sam and Bobby on your first stop back home, and picked apart any reason that wouldn’t be the truth.

You could, when the Darkness got out of hand—or, rarely, the whole universe became harmonious and Silver—see souls. Or, for the demons, violent forms in the place of their corrupted, twisted souls. And this could mean a million different things about what you were, what you might be. How you needed to be handled or dealt with.

But that all had to be on hold, until Dean was safe. It was the biggest breakthrough you’ve had in your whole time searching for just a name, an idea of what you were, are, supposed to be, but it has to wait.

Until you’re through this—clawing to the end and pulling Dean out the other side with you, by almost any force necessary—what you are will have to wait.

And this feels a little like a cruel joke. Because you keep telling Bobby and Sam—over and over and over until it finally sticks—that you won’t use the Darkness to fix this. You can’t. That just because you know that it’s connected to souls doesn’t mean it will be useful.

And you’re lying through your teeth.

But Sam and Bobby aren’t Dean. So they don’t know that.

They don’t know that you’re painfully, achingly aware that—if you focused and drew blood on your skin with your teeth and choked all the air from your lungs—you could focus enough to simply wipe the brand on his soul. You don’t know how you’d do it, or why that would be something that’s possible, but you know you could do it. It’s an instinct, same as all the strange rituals that pop into your mind in the dead of night.

You just could.

But you won’t.

It’s too big a risk. It could hurt him, you could fuck it up and make it worse, you could fully infect him with the wrong of you, make him sick in a new, worse, incurable way. The one rule of saving Dean is that you have to save him. You don’t care if it kills you, if it sucks your own soul right out of your body, make your pain triple, turns you into barely a husk or trades you in his place. You won’t hurt him. You won’t let this hurt him, because it’s about saving him.

And you can’t give in to the Darkness. Soon—in the creeping, slightly shadowed future where Dean is still at your side, because he has to be—you’re going to have to tell him. He needs to know.

He’ll have to wait for this to be over. You need to tell him, but if he looks at you and sees something disgusting, you need it to be when you can leave and know he’ll be okay. That he’ll be better without you, and safe.

And if you want him to not care, you need to be able to prove that you’re a monster, but you can be muzzled. Tied down and tamed and controlled, not a threat or something that needs killing, because you’d fixed the deal without being the monster. Without being wrong. Without being the Darkness.

You’ve spent two years ripping yourself to shreds to keep the Darkness down. You can’t start using it now, just because if Dean goes—you won’t say or think where, because it hurts a little too much—you’ll die to. That’s not how this works. You can’t risk it, risk Dean, because you’re selfish and need him more than oxygen.

So you will tell him. After.

You’ll look him in the eyes and explain, and maybe he won’t leave you like he should. Maybe you’ll fall on your knees and beg him to stay, and he will. He’ll help you learn what you are, and everything will be Silver for a long, long time.

He’s already, somehow, managed to do that without knowing.

Your eyes keep drifting over to your jacket, where the Blade is tucked into your jacket. You’d spent the past month with your head spinning around it, any thoughts that weren’t reserved for Dean, can’t lose Dean, being dedicated to what the fuck is that thing.

It’s the arrowhead, but stronger. Almost too strong, making the Darkness all the more difficult to throttle and put down when your hand was wrapped around its hilt.

But it fits so perfectly in your hand. Like it’s made for you. That’s what the strange voice had said, when you’d found it. That the Blade had been waiting for you, and it was your right to have it.

You hadn’t been able to make sense of it.

And then you tell Dean one, limited and carefully chosen thing—just what he could know, without you losing him too soon by no hand but your own—and he’d worked it out.

Soul.

It was so obvious, you felt a little fucking stupid for not getting it yourself. You’d been seeing souls, when the Darkness got out of hand. The Blade almost shoved that piece of you forward, until you had to focus to see people instead of their color and light. Their souls. The Blade made it easier to see people’s souls, because it was soul weapon, and you were a fucking dumbass.

That was another thing that would be important to think about, once this was over.

It was another thing you couldn’t dwell on now.

Now had to be about Dean, sleeping in your arms, a comfortable weight over your body that made him seem permanent. He’s hold you like you’re the one that’s going to vanish. He keeps looking at you like you could pull his heart out of his chest, and he still wouldn’t kill you.

He’d worked that out so fast. He’s smarter than he gives himself credit for. Then almost anyone gives him credit for.

But you know. It’s why you’ve always trusted him on hunts, even when you wanted to rip his throat out and bite him until it left a faded scar.

He’s smart, and he’s handsome, and warm, and when you keep your fingers in his hair he skeeps making small, grunting noises like a happy dog.

You can’t lose him.

You’ve been here for hours. At some point you’d drifted off yourself, and woken up to find Dean still splayed over your lower body.

You’re not moving because he needs rest, and he’s comfortable here. With you. It doesn’t matter that you feel safe in the way he’s all around you, that you feel like more than just a monster in how he’s holding you, that the world is Silver and it’s because one of his hands has found its way a little under your shirt, and you don’t have the strength to move it.

This isn’t about you. It’s about Dean, and letting him rest. You need to text Jo about the whole Soul weapon thing, but right now you have Dean, here, and even you can’t bring yourself to ruin that.

And you don’t know why you did this. Why you pulled him into your lap, and held him like you had no right to, under the guise of helping him fall asleep. You hadn’t been able to stop yourself once the thought popped into your head, and he hadn’t found you, and you-

You can’t say it. Not now. Not when he’s right here, and might somehow see it on your face.

He’s asleep now, but his breath is starting to pick up, and you can’t even think it, or—when his eyes drift open and meet yours—you know he’ll see. You don’t know how to hide it, you haven’t had enough time to work out how to mask it and keep it from being written all over your face, so you won’t think it.

It’s another thing that will have to wait. There’s a daunting pile building up—women of the high, soul weapons, souls in general, the Blade, it—but none of it matters as much as Dean. As not letting him-

You won’t think that either. He’s not allowed to do that. Thinking that makes it an option. Thinking that means your brain starts to turn around what-ifs, and there’s no need for them because you won’t let that happen, so you don’t have to think about it.

All you have to do is save Dean. Stay here until he’s awake, because you’d said until he was down, but you really weren’t strong enough to move.

And the look on his face when he wakes up makes that worth it. His pretty eyes are a little clouded and glazed from sleep, and you don’t think he can really see you, but he grumbles something that sounds like your name as his arms squeeze around you. It’s better than anything else in the world.

You only hum, forcing your fingers not to stutter their movements when his second groan rolls through your body, and watch him blink and twist in your hold, pouting into the air as sleep slowly leaves his body.

“’S bright.” He mutters, moving a little further into your body like he’s trying to hide from the sun. “Fuckin’- bright-“

“It’s the sun, Deano.” Your voice is soft, and this might be the most adorable thing you’ve ever seen. “Being bright is kind of all it does.”

He grunts, and then goes rigid in your arms. When he rolls over to face you his eyes are wide, and you can’t even blink under his attention.

“You’re-“ He clears his throat, his words barely a rasp. “You’re still here.”

You swallow, every word suddenly jammed down your throat and blocking your lungs. Maybe you weren’t supposed to be here. Maybe he wanted you to go once he was asleep, and you’d pushed it too far because you weren’t in control, and of course Dean didn’t want you to stay, you’re you, nobody would see you and know you and want you to-

He mutters your name, and it takes almost everything in you to speak.

“I- You’re heavy.” You mumble. “And I- Uh- I fell asleep-“

Dean’s brows raise slightly, his hand drifting up to his face as he holds your gaze, when he wipes his cheek and glances at his fingers, you can see the gleam of something wet on his fingers.

“You drooled on me, Princess.”

You’re going to pass out. You just had some of the best sleep of your life, and you’re wide awake and sitting down, but you’re going to have to figure out a way to fall over and pass out.

He not helping. Dean is being a pretty, oddly smug asshole and smirking slightly, licking his lips and laying you lap and looking at you with sleepy eyes like you’re the best thing he’s ever seen, and you hate him but you can’t because you-

“Are you hungry?” You whisper, unable to break his gaze, your words still broken and stuttered as you fall impossible further into Dean. “I- The motel has a diner. You wanna- Uh, Get breakfast?”

A small grin cracks over his features, and you think you can hear the spiderweb moan in time with your heart.

“Always.”

It takes an immeasurable amount of strength to let Dean roll away from you. To leave him on the bed while you go to the bathroom and get dressed, and then take his suggestion to go ahead of him and find a table.

“I’ll meet you there.” He’s flat on his back, still under the sheets and making no effort to move out of bed as he speaks. “Just gotta, uh- Bathroom.”

You nod and wander down to the motel’s little breakfast diner, finding a corner booth—hidden from the rest of the world, where Dean might end up pressed right next to you as you ate—before pretending to read the menu as you waited for him to arrive.

And when someone sits across from you, you know it’s not Dean before you look up. Some part of you could recognize Dean a million feet underwater with every other sense numbed and stifled. He’s the only right thing in the universe—the only right part of you, the spiderweb, designed from his attention and touch and voice—and everything in the world goes Silver when he’s only near you.

But nothing is Silver right now. It’s still torn into the White, pounding a little to the right of your heart like it’s trying to move you to flee, and the Darkness, pushing up in a defense of something.

Against whoever just dropped into your booth.

When you look up—your jaw clenched and body tensed for a fight—you wish you hadn’t.

It’s a demon. You’d expected a demon. You could’ve gotten around a demon with ease, because all it would take is a drawled exorcism or splash of holy water in their face. Lately, you’ve been ready for demons to find you at any moment, and you’d developed a habit of blessing any water that was put in front of you.

You know how to be ready. You’d survived this long against the green-eyed demons, and your vigilance had only increased since Dean got stabbed, again, because the handsome dummy was apparently a knife magnet, and you weren’t going to let that happen a third time.

But the demon across you isn’t glinting black and rolling in their host’s body. They’re not solid and violent and a bloodthirsty, venomous green.

They’re dark gray smoke. Smooth like a machine in their vessel—a young, soft-featured blonde woman—and running and turning through her with a measured precision. They’re in complete control, they’re hideous, and they’re comfortable.

The vessel smiles at you, and you’re in danger.

That’s Lilith. Your hand tenses on your water but you don’t know how effective it will be, because that’s Lilith.

She can’t collect early. That’s against the rules, but demons don’t follow rules, and Dean’s right down the sidewalk, in the room, so she can’t be here to collect early. She would’ve just gone to kill him while you were busy, but she’s here, in your booth while Dean is busy, so she’s here for you.

You’d left the Blade in the room. On the table. In your jacket. If she’s here for you and the blade, she’ll only get you. Dean knows not to touch it. Hopefully he won’t be stupid enough to go after you, if this goes the worst possible way, but you wouldn’t put it past him to forget that he only has two months and you’re not important enough to chase, so you’ll need to find a way to leave him a message-

“I can hear you thinking, little one.” Lilith smiles at you, tilting her head as she scans over your face. “I’m not here to hurt your Dean. Or you.”

Something recoils deep, deep in your gut, but the Darkness blooms. Just like with Sam, but stronger. Humming and spreading in time with the White until your nails dig into your skin and you draw blood on your inner cheek with your teeth.

“But you’re here.” You force your voice to remain neutral. Bored. Any electrified fear over your nerves and muscles can’t be shown. Not here. “Why?”

Lilith sighs. “Let’s call it morbid, weak curiosity. I wanted to see you. To meet you, before everything took off.”

“Before-“

“I’m not supposed to meet you. But- I needed to see. To know it was true.” The smile creeps back over her face, and you feel like She’s studying you. Looking right through your body into the White and the Darkness, and marveling in what she sees.

You feel too big. You feel too important.

You don’t have anywhere to run.

“And look at you.” Her smile grows. You might throw up. “You’re beautiful. Everything I’d hoped you’d be, when you arrived. And so angry. Although,” Lilith pauses, her brow knitting slightly. “How old are you, now?”

“I-“

“Do not lie.” She adds. “I’ll know.”

You swallow. She’s speaking in strange, mind-aching riddles. You don’t have any weapons, and you won’t let the Darkness out.

You can only play along, until you find a way out.

“Twenty-five.” You mutter, and Lilith frowns.

“You should have been brighter by now.” She mutters. “You should have been blinding, but you are only slightly stronger than I was, at your age.”

Something heavy lodges in your throat. “What- Than-“

“And you’re so… disgustingly dedicated to that little worm, thinking about you in the shower.” Lilith continues, seeming to mostly be speaking to herself. “I can see him, on you. I would’ve thought- Hm.”

“I don’t-“ You force yourself to sit a little taller, setting your features and making your voice harsh. “What the fuck do you want?”

Lilith gives you another small, soft smile. “I already said, little one-“

“Stop fucking calling me that-“

“I am able to call you whatever I want,” Lilith says your name, and it’s cold through your blood. It sounds too familiar in her voice, like she’s said it before. Like she likes saying it. “I am here to see you.”

“Why-”

She ignores you. “I didn’t believe it, for so long, when my master told me what I’d been made to bring about. But- Look at you. It hurts me, what he wants to do to you. You could be so much more than what you’re meant to be. You could be everything.”

“I’ve heard.” You risk a quick glance at the door. Still no Dean. “I- Your master? What is he going to-“

“He will never hurt you.” Lilith dismisses you with a bored hand. “He knows what it’s like to be… used.”

“And who-“

“You’re a smart girl. Work it out yourself.”

Your jaw clenches slightly. It’s an easy conclusion to draw. It’s just another thing you should’ve worked out months ago.

Other things to worry about.

“Who’s going to use me-“

“You know,” Lilith drawls, and you’re getting a little sick of her doing that. “You could kill me with half a thought if you wanted. But you’ve ripped yourself apart for all these measly, pathetic little humans. For Dean Winchester, who will be nothing but a pawn. It wounds me, little one, what you’ve made yourself become for such a pathetic man-“

“He’s not pathetic.” You spit, and Lilith only hums, shaking her head.

“He’s- These humans have done quite a number on you, haven’t they. You could be great, greater than anything, I could show you how. You need guidance, someone who understands-“

Your nails dig into your palm, and you might be drawing blood. “Are you here to offer me a fucking job-“

“No.” Lilith shrugs. “As I mentioned, I am not supposed to speak to you at all-“

“But you are.” You snap. Dean will be here soon. You need an answer now. “Why. And don’t say a cryptic fucking riddle or something-“

Lilith cuts you off with a soft laugh. “I have not said a single riddle. You would know what I’m speaking of, if you’d been taught right. If we hadn’t been allowed to die off, to grow so weak, you’d understand everything perfectly.”

You don’t really understand her last words. You can’t hear them, over the ringing in your ears as the word we sinks under your skin, right into your brain until it’s all you can even think.

We.

“I-“ Your voice is barely a breath, but you’re too big—the Darkness roaring in your body, and the White only pushing it further and further up—so it’s all you can manage. “Who- we?”

Lilith nods, and this smile is too sweet. Almost motherly, and the smoke inside the vessel looks like it’s swelling with something like joy.

“You are what I was, before. It’s part of why I was chosen, because I was the first of… More than this.” The smoke does a little turn, as if it’s showing off. “And you are… you are greater than I could’ve dreamed. So angry-“

“You’ve said that-“

“You will be everything I wanted to be. You’ll make him regret so much, when he comes for you. But-“ She sighs, looking out the window with a slight frown. “There is a weakness. It will… hinder you. Cloud your vision.”

“I-

“I am not supposed to interfere.” Lilith murmurs, shaking her head. “Yet I can’t just watch this, little one. I’m afraid it’s time we get rid of the… roadblock.”

The diner bell rings, and Dean walks inside with his hands in his pockets.

He’s in danger, but you can’t breathe. And Lilith is only smiling at you, almost daring you to open your mouth and scream from Dean to run, go, fucking leave you and find somewhere safe and call Sam, you’ll be fine but he’s in danger-

His eyes lock with yours, and a fall frown pulls at his lips as he scans over your face.

He’s in danger.

You blink twice, and he goes rigid. Standing taller, jaw clenched as he stares at you, his gaze to Lilith—still in your booth, still watching you with a grin—as his frown deepens.

He blinks once. Checking in.

Not safe. You repeat it, watching his eyes widen as you blink twice, in a rapid, desperate pattern. Not safe.

You’d don’t know why you thought he’d run. You know him better than that.

Dean grabs his gun out from behind his back, aims right at the back of Lilith’s head, and shoots.

The shot rings through the diner, and the blur begins right as the first scream breaks the air.

Lilith falls over the table, and you know it won’t be permanent.

But the knife you drive through her hand should slow her down, and the chaos in the diner should buy you time.

You’re at Dean’s side before you know what’s happening, pulling him outside by the wrist as you scan around the motel parking lot. No other demons. Sam had left you the Impala this time—lessons being learned after the whole Pennsylvania situation being, for once, properly learned—but you still have things in the motel room that you need. Not things like clothing or makeup. The Blade, that can’t be left when Lilith is here, and all your notes and theories for Dean’s contract, and your knife, the one that Dean gave that’s the only thing that’s kept you alive for years-

Dean grunts your name, jogging behind you as you drag him into the motel room and lock the door behind you. “What-“

“Lilith.” Your words are short. It’s all you have time for. “That was her.”

“What-“

“I’ll grab everything, you call Sam and tell him we’ll meet him in Minnesota-“

“Yeah, I got that, what the fuck is Lilith doing-“

You shake your head, the truth stuck somewhere in your chest like a bullet. “We don’t-“

The motel room bursts open, and your words turn to a strangled scream as Lilith slams Dean into a wall. You move to him without a thought, and low groan leave his mouth and aching against your heart as he sits up, but Lilith just walks right past you both to the table, to your-

Fuck-

You don’t even get to stand up before she’s pulling the Blade out of your jacket, smiling at it like it’s a long-lost friend.

Lilith says your name, a frighteningly sincere look of apology on her vessel’s face. “I’m going to need to borrow this, little one, just for a few minutes. And- there we go-“

Dean flies away from you in just another heartbeat, and this isn’t the blur anymore. It’s slow. Too slow. Just like in the manor, the same stasis, but infinite. Unyielding and unforgiving as Lilith drags Dean up from the floor, presses the blade to his throat, and raises her brows at you.

“Save him.”

You can’t breathe. Or think. Or speak. Everything is too much, you’re too much, too dangerous, the Darkness pressing up and bleeding out of you, but you can’t lose control, can’t let go, can’t lose Dean-

Lilith says you name, her voice almost stern. “I am going to kill him. Now. Save him.”

“I-“ Your voice is choked, and you shake your head, taking a lurching step forward with your hands curled into fist, ready to swing-

You’re thrown back in half a second, and Lilith lets out a long sigh as Dean roars your name.

“Don’t fucking touch her, you bitch-“

“Quiet.” Lilith snaps, and when you regain your balance, the Blade is angled just enough for a little bit of blood to leak down to the hilt. “And not like that.” She says your name like she’s disappointed. “You’re smarter than to think that would work, so try again.”

“I-“ You swallow, your hand creeping to your throat as you become everything, the strain of the pavement outside as people run and the dull pain of the wall where Dean had slammed into it and stained it gold and the Blade, calling for you to take it but you can’t fucking move, you’re barely even you-

“C’mon.” Lilith sneers, eyes narrowing. “I know you can do it, you know, you just have to show him. Let’s go!”

You shake your head, leaning against the wall as the pain starts to rip at your seam. “You- This is- We had time-“

Lilith shrugs. “This isn’t about the contract. This is about you. Kill me. Or I will kill him. Ready?”

“Please-“

“Three.”

Lilith more blood runs down the Blade. You can’t really see any other colors but red.

“Two.”

Your eyes move to Dean’s, and there’s a second color. Green. Shining, green eyes locked on your, filled with a million, glowing secondary colors and full of strange, beautiful thing, a whole world that might be bigger than you, because it’s Dean and he’s beautiful and you can’t lose him-

“One-“

The scream that rips out of your body isn’t human. You don’t feel human. You’d said you wouldn’t touch the Darkness, but you were supposed to have more time, and Lilith doesn’t get to fucking cheat.

It’s the same sheer, violent, blinding power from before. Blazing right past Dean—the spiderweb almost seeming to shield around him, making every bit of power bursting from your body move around him—and driving into Lilith, blending with the White until everything is Silver, and the world is vast and furious and yours.

Pressing into Lilith even after She stumbles back from Dean, strangling around the smoke as she laughs. She’s just laughing as you start to carves gashes into her to maul and raise every bit of her the Silver can reach, crushing her and stretching her at once but she’s just laughing-

She vanishes from sight, but there’s nowhere for her to hide. You’re everything, and you’re going to rip her to pieces if she flies to fucking Asia-

Dean roars your name, but you already know she’s behind you.

“Good job.” She hisses if your ear, and when you whip around, she’s gone again.

The Silver rips a chunk of her off. You just have a little further.

A hand wraps around your throat, and Lilith’s voice is back to that simpering, almost soft tone as she speaks in your ear once more.

“This was for your own good,” she hums your name, and Dean shouts something you can’t really hear when the Blade drives right into your gut, and everything rips back in two. “You’ll know that soon.”

She steps back, and Dean is roaring for you but this hurts, and you’re so tired, and everything is catching up with you too fast because what did you just do-

“That won’t kill her.” You hear Lilith say, even if it sounds a million miles away. “I just needed to stop your Princess from killing me. I’m sure you understand-“

Dean’s voice is hoarse, but he’s speaking. He’s okay. “You fucking bitch-“

“I know, I know.” Lilith pauses, and you make a weak sound that might be Dean’s name, or a plea to just be put down. You’re going to lose him, he had to know now and you’re going to lose him-

“Let me out-“ Dean hisses, something pleading in his tone you don’t understand. “Fuck- She’s- Let me fucking go-“

“Relax, Mr. Winchester. It’s just insurance until I’m far away. She’ll be fine.”

“She’s fucking bleeding out-“

“This,” Lilith pauses, and something clatters next to you on the floor. “Can’t kill her. And I’m sure you two have plenty to talk about, given that little show, so I’ll be heading out. I’ll see you soon, though, Dean Winchester. We have an appointment in two months.”

Dena might shout something, and something may slam, but you’ll never be sure. You can’t really feel everything but pain, the White screaming in pain as the Darkness rips and slashes through your organs, pain because your limb are trying to move to something good, something Golden, but everything hurts-

You’re lifted up into air by the Golden thing—warm and strong and certain around you—and a deep voice is saying something in your ear but you can’t hear.

There’s only one word, on a steady, looping replay through your brain. Over and over and over, an ache and stab that’s crafted from a knowledge of something you can’t name.

It’s made of lonely. Cold and lonely and dull, numb and empty, a blade driven right into your heart by your own hand, something carved out that you can live without, but feels more vital than any organ, the spiderweb seizing through your body because you’re going to be lonely.

And there’s the word. Three words. Two for a plea, and one for a prayer.

They’re poison.

You say them anyway.

“Dean.” You grab up, and get a hold on something smooth, and it’s right. It fits in your hand, and spurs you further. “Dean, I’m-“

“You’re gonna be fine, Princess.” The deep voice from before grunts, right in your ear. “You can’t fucking- You’ll be okay-“

“Dean.” You repeat it. Everything hurts but that sounds right, so you repeat it. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re-“

“I’m sorry.” Something stings at your eyes, even though they’re all but sown shut. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Dean, I’m sorry-“

The voice grunts something else, but you can only here a rush like blood or a hurricane in your ear, only repeat those words over and over and over until you’re drowning in them.

“I’m sorry, Dean, I’m sorry-“

Warmth presses to your brow, and a low sound hums through your body.

It’s telling you that you’re going to be okay.

And everything hurts, and this feels like death—even if you know, somehow, that it won’t be, knowing has really done you any favors—but you believe it.

So you let the world fade to black.

Everything is dark for a very long time. Colorful, bruising dark, like you’re alone and adrift through places between stars, or you’ve closed your eyes and pressed on their lids to see what happens.

And then there’s light.

Red and gold and orange light, waning and flickering and building until it’s roaring and the world is hot.

Fire.

So much fucking fire.

Dean is next you. Right next to you. He’d somehow slipped right past you, in the blaze, but he hasn’t acknowledged you either, so you don’t feel that bad about it. The fire doesn’t hurt. There’s no smoke hoking at your lungs.

So if Dean wants to just stand in the fire with you, there are worse prices to pay for daring to be near him.

You waste an unknowable amount of time, swaying back and forth on your feet as you watch Dean. The gold isn’t in him, where you usually find it. It seems to be casting a halo over the whole room, until everything—from the flame to the peeling paint wall—is emitting a light that feels like Dean.

But he never looks around the room. He never looks at you, either.

He’s only looking up. Neck craned up, maybe more frozen that a statue as he stares at the ceiling.

You follow his gaze, a strange feeling of dread twisting in your stomach, a little alarm blaring across you mind and skull that’s telling you to turn back, look away, be anywhere but here that you ignore.

Dean is here.

And then you see what he’d been staring out, and whatever had rooted him in place takes hold over your body.

It’s you.

Almost.

It’s a mirror image, if the mirror was painted over and carved from marble to make you look better than you are. Your hair frames your face too well—no flyaways, shining like you’d just done a treatment, every lock perfectly in place—and your skin seems as if it’s glowing. Your eyes are brighter, as if they’d crushed and concentrated a million stars, and everything about you seems flawless.

Save for the fire, licking and scarring over your skin.

Your mouth is open in a silent scream, and the sound is echoing through the room like a haunting, horrid, high note of an opera. You’re entrancing.

It’s the worst thing you’ve ever seen.

And when you rip your gaze back to Dean, you can see it with more clarity. The broken, desperate, fury on his every feature as he stares at you, unable to look away. First clenched and mouth open in a silent shout, eyes moving rapidly over your body like trying to find a trigger to release you—the you on the ceiling, making a long noise that’s a little too close to his name—but never managing to do anything but look back your face, and break a little further.

You don’t know if he knows it’s possible to look away. That there’s anything else in the world but the you on the ceiling, even if everything else is only flame and wall.

“Dean?”

He shakes his head, and you swallow, making your voice softer.

“Dean. Please look at-“

Your words die in your throat as his eyes fly to yours, and he stumbles backwards.

“I- You-“ He looks back up to the ceiling, and shakes his head as he whispers your name. “How did you- You never-“

“Dean, I don’t-“

“You never come down.” He says it like it’s supposed to mean something important, his eyes almost trapped on yours. “How did I- I don’t know how I- I need to know how to save you-“

You open your mouth to say anything that will ease him, make him stop looking like almost a frightened child. He doesn’t need to save you, because you’re really not worth saving. You don’t know how, or what’s happening either, but he’s here and that’s all that matters. You’ll aways come down, because down is back to him, and you-

Everything is yanked away from you in barely a second, and you’re back in the dark for only a second.

And then you’re home. Not your home at Bobby’s.

Your childhood home.

You’re the same height as always, but everything seems to have grown in order to keep you small. Every shadow is too long, and every shift of a light may mean you’d strayed somewhere you shouldn’t have been.

You’ve always been places you shouldn’t be. And you’d liked the darker corners and cabinets of this place, because they meant you were safe.

Nobody would find you if the light couldn’t find you.

And you know, deep down in your gut, that you’re not supposed to be here.

Knowing has never helped before.

So you push open the door, and freeze as you see the people crowded around the table before you.

You’re suddenly too big. Darkness seems to be leaking out of your body, and they’re all looking at you like you’re a monster. Lilith and Azazel are smiling, and million green demons shift around the corners of the room as your father—your real father—sneers at you, and John Winchester raises a gun, aimed right at your brow.

The gun goes off before you can do anything at all.

You wake up with a plea for forgiveness that dies in your throat, drenched in a cold sweat and tangled in thin sheets.

Sheets.

You’re in a bed.

Someone put you in a bed, and everything still hurts, but you don’t feel like death anymore. There’s only an ache in your gut, and a heavy feeling over your every muscle. You can’t bring yourself to move or open your eyes, but you can think again.

You’re in a bed, but it’s not your bed. Your bed at Bobby’s. It’s not the bed from the last motel either, because the mattress is softer, and Dean wouldn’t have just stayed there after-

Lilith.

Dean wouldn’t have stayed where they knew Lilith could find them. He’d taken you somewhere with a soft bed, but you can’t feel his weight across the mattress, or hear him shuffling or grumbling anywhere in the room.

And he knows.

He knows.

Maybe he’d left. He’d have every right to. Maybe he dropped you at the roadhouse and told Jo to deal with you, or you’re going to get up and find a note that tells not to find him or speak to him, that he’s gone and it’s because of you, because finally knows what you are and he’s disgusted by it, and he’s leaving you because he can, and you’ve lost him the same way you’d always been doomed to, just by being yourself-

“I know you’re up,” Sam says your name from somewhere to the side, and there’s exhaustion laced through his voice. “I can hear you having a panic attack.”

Sam’s here. You force your eyes open, squinting as they adjust to light, to the sight of Sam sitting at another, old motel table, looking at you with a small frown from over his laptop.

You don’t see Dean.

But his bag is on the floor, and Sam is here, and Dean wouldn’t leave Sam.

“Dean’s getting you Advil.” Sam hums, almost as if he’d been reading your mind. Maybe your obvious fear had just been written over your face. Maybe it had been leaking out of you like poison.

It didn’t really matter.

“Why-“

“You had a fever.” Sam mutters, looking back to the computer. “It went down, but he- Just in case.”

You nod, swallowing around a heavy lump lodged deep in your throat. Your voice had already been only a rasp. It might now be only a breath.

“Did he-“ You choke a little on spit. You push through. “What did he say-“

Sam sighs, running a hand over his face and sitting back in his chair. “I think it’s best if you talk to him. I don’t know what to-“

“Is he mad?” You blurt, before you can stop yourself. “I- I didn’t mean to tell him like this, I didn’t, Sam, I swear-“

“I know, but you know Dean, he-“

The motel door opens before Sam can finish, and you almost shrink down into the mattress. Dean won’t hurt you. He’d never hurt you.

But he can do far worse damage than any weapon ever could, and you’d deserve it.

“Got some Advil and cherry coke for like, five bucks. I fuckin’ love Iowa, Sammy, everythin’ is cheap as-“

Dean cuts himself off as he looks up, and your eyes meet.

You try to give him a smile.

It feels more like a grimace.

“I’m gonna- uh-“ Sam clears his throat, and neither you nor Dean look at him. “Yeah.”

Sam stands in your periphery, and you think he leaves the room, but you can’t see anything but Dean.

Not gone. Nothing hateful on his face.

Nothing at all on his face.

As he walks towards you, it’s almost like there’s a mask over his features. He stands at the foot of the bed with a small frown, scanning over you without a word, and moving to stand at the side of the mattress.

His side of the mattress.

“This is, uh- Got this for you.” He mutters, placing the coke bottle on the side table. “Gonna sit.”

You only nod, frozen as Dean drops to the bed, staring at his hands as the silence continues. You won’t be the one to break it.

This is all so fragile, and you’ll stab yourself again before you break something else today.

“Knife is in your jacket.” Dean grunts. “You’re looking better. Lilith was, uh- She seemed to get that right. Didn’t kill you.”

You nod again. This is a new type of broken record.

It’s worse.

“I-“ Dean’s voice is low, and you think it would be less painful if your bones and chest were stringed apart and crushed to pieces. “Sammy won’t tell me anything. Kept saying to talk to you.”

You take a shaking breath, forcing yourself to speak, just so he knows you’re listening. “Dean, I-“

“Did he know?”

“Yeah,” you whisper, and he still won’t look at you.

“Who else?”

“Bobby.” You watch his back and profile, and nothing else in the world seems real. “Rufus and Jo. Joh- Your dad.”

That makes him look up at you. “Dad? Dad knew?”

“He found out at the hospital.” You whisper, and the Darkness is oddly silent. The nails digging into your skin are more on instinct than anything else. “That’s how Sam found out.”

Dean’s jaw twitches. “But he didn’t tell me. You didn’t tell me.”

“I-“

“Why?”

You blink at him, your brow drawing together as he stares at you. He looks almost desperate. You don’t understand it.

“Why’d you never tell me,” he says your name, and it sounds more important than it is. “Everyone else gotta know that you’re- That you can- I don’t fuckin’ know, but-“

“I don’t know either.” You say, the words slipping out of you without thought, and Dean frowns.

“What’d you mean, you don’t know-“

“I’ve- I’ve never known. I wanted to know.” You’re already falling. Might as well go all the way down. “I needed to know, before I told you.”

Dean looks like he’s going to say something, but the floodgates have opened. You don’t think you could stop if you tried.

“I- I wanted to tell you. I swear I wanted to- I tried to but it was never right, and I- I don’t know- I’m dangerous, Dean, I could hurt you, I- I’m not in control of it and I don’t even know what it is, and I couldn’t tell you- I couldn’t- Please-“ You choked on the air, and the world starts to blur. “I’m sorry- I didn’t- You- Don’t-“ Every word is fractured, and Dean needs to go. When the Darkness returns you won’t have a hold over it, and you’ll hurt him, and he should’ve left when he found out, should’ve euthanized you like a monster because he can, and he’s stronger, and why is he still here-

Dean mutters your name, moving to touch you, but you’ll infect him. Hurt him. Make him just as hideous as you are, just because you’d dared to try and sink deep enough into his gravity that nothing could ever pull you out.

“I didn’t mean to- I’m sorry-“ Your every word is barely a breath. You mean them more than anything. “Dean, I’m sorry-“

He reaches you again, faster than you can shove him away. Presses his thumb right to the bridge of your nose and stroke it down until your every breath isn’t a fight, then pulling you right into his arms.

Just holding you.

You don’t deserve this. You’d fucked everything up, and he should’ve have to save you here, he shouldn’t have to clean up the mess when you’re the one who took everything and fucked it up-

“I- I’m sorry-“ You whisper against him, your fingers digging into his shirt even as you force the words out of your mouth. “I’ll- I’ll go-“

He tenses around you. “Go?”

You nod, and his grip tightens. Like he’s trying to move you into his body.

“Don’t.”

He can’t say that. If he doesn’t mean it, he can’t say it.

“Dean-“

“You didn’t leave me.” He grunts, and you can feel every word in your chest. “Two-way road, Princess. You said I wasn’t getting rid of you that easy. Stay.”

“I-“

“Stay.” He repeats it, squeezing your body once. “Explain tomorrow. I can’t-“ His words falter, and he hold you a little tighter. “You said you’d fucking stay here. Please.”

“Dean-“

“Please,” he whispers your name, and you don’t think he knows that you’d put yourself in hell in his place, and he’d never even ask. “Stay.”

You nod, because there’s nothing else to do, and worm your hand further between your bodies until it’s poking out the other side, and your pinkies are linked.

“All the way down.” You mumble, and your words are muffled in his chest, but he understands.

Dean nods, letting out a long breath, and the only thing you’ve heard that’s better his is voice, deep and calm and right in your ear.

“All the way down.”

End Note: Hehehehehe many plans in the works.

Thank you so so so much for reading!! If you like this story, please reblog, share, or leave a comment! <3

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flowerandblood · 2 months ago

Text

The Song of Promises (Sneak Peek)

[ canon • Aemond x Royce • female ]

[ a little preview of the story that awaits you in February; it doesn't end my hiatus, but I'm in the process of writing and I see a little light at the end of the tunnel ]

[ description: Aemond's childhood is filled with loneliness and regret until Daemon arrives in the Red Keep with his first-born child, daughter of Rhea Royce. The fact that neither of them has a dragon of their own binds them together with a thread of understanding, and their slowly developing relationship gives birth in the young prince's mind to a plan of which she is a part. Slow burn, childhood companions to lovers, first intimacy, rude, insolent, arrogant Aemond with big ego. ]

_____

[...]

Just as she had done in their childhood days, to leave her rooms now she had to wait for the watch to change; only then would she slip out and take advantage of the moment to make her way down a dark, rarely used corridor through a side entrance to the prince's quarters.

She had no idea if anyone but her knew about it; presumably if they did, the guards thought the additional door remained locked. However, her cousin had left them open for her, and it was through these that she entered, stepping into his chamber, enveloped in the warm light of the fire.

She spotted his silhouette at once – he was sitting at the top of a long table, on which lay stacks of maps and letters, a thick, old volume in his hands.

When he heard her footsteps, he lifted a glance of his healthy eye to her, and then returned to his reading again, carelessly turning the page over.

She was not bothered by this; he was often in the habit of pretending not to see her at first. From her perspective, it was his attempt to cope with the fact that, although accustomed to solitude, he was hosting someone else in his private quarters.

She untied her cloak, placed it on one of the richly decorated oak chairs and, wearing nothing but her nightgown, took a slow, quiet step towards his bed. She knew she could do it, and that she was certain to stay with him anyway, so she simply lay back on the soft sheet and closed her eyes, listening to the pleasant sound of the sizzling fire.

For a moment, all she could hear was that and the rustle of pages being turned – the smell of him and the parchments pleasantly filled her nose, calming her.

The quiet creak of wood woke her from her half-sleep and she shuddered, opening her sleepy eyes – she spotted his silhouette heading lazily towards her. His hand rose to the belt of his tunic, undoing it with the quiet click of a buckle.

“Tomorrow. You must promise to obey me. Otherwise I will not fly with you.” He said calmly, looking at her with an expression on his face that pretended to show indifference.

“I will.” She said.

“Mm.” He hummed under his breath, finally pulling the leather material off his shoulders.

She made room for him and moved sideways on the bed as he sat on the edge of it and leaned over, pulling his boots off his feet. She watched wordlessly as he did the same a moment later with his eye patch, finally throwing it carelessly onto the stone floor. He sighed and hid his face in his hand, massaging the area around his scarred eye socket in some subconscious reflex.

Stress was causing discomfort to return to the left side of his face.

“You are in pain.” She whispered softly, raising herself up on her elbow.

He didn't reply, just swallowed hard and froze in stillness.

“Let me.” She insisted, and he finally looked at her and nodded.

She raised herself up on her knees and moved towards him, sitting down so that she could see his face. He looked at her silently with some kind of melancholy as her hands gently grasped his face and her thumbs began to massage his temples.

He immediately closed his eye and flinched as her thumbs moved over his brow arches and cheekbones – he twitched when she did it the first time, but relaxed more and more with each subsequent stroke, and his face took on an expression of relief.

“I wouldn't object if you did this to me all night.” He said quietly, his eyelid still closed. She smiled involuntarily at his words, running her fingers over his forehead, nose and cheeks, going back to the beginning – to his temples and brows.

“I can.” She said warmly, but he shook his head.

“We need to rest. Come. I want to sleep.”

#aemond targaryen #aemond fic #aemond fanfiction #aemond one eye #aemond x oc #hotd aemond #aemond fanfic #aemond x female #aemond

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bu3ck3r · 27 days ago

Text

always us

paige bueckers x azzi fudd

wc: 3k

summary: paige and azzi confront their fears and reaffirm their deep commitment to one another

It had been a long, tense few days, and the silence between Paige and Azzi had become a weight too heavy to bear. The usual hum of laughter and gentle teasing that defined their relationship had been replaced by an uncomfortable quiet that neither of them knew how to fill.

It had started so innocuously, just a small misunderstanding, a passing comment that should have been forgotten, but it had festered. Neither of them had backed down, neither of them had apologized. And now, sitting across from one another in their small dorm, the space between them felt wider than it ever had before.

Paige ran her fingers through her hair, the familiar motion one of her many nervous habits, but this time, it only served to irritate her further. She could feel the frustration building in her chest like a slow burning fire, the heat of it rising with each tick of the clock on the wall.

"Why do you always do this?" Paige's voice was quiet but sharp, the words cutting through the heavy silence.

Azzi's head snapped up, her eyes narrowing slightly. "Do what, Paige?" she asked, the edge to her tone betraying the calm front she was trying to maintain. "What exactly do you mean by always?"

Paige swallowed hard, the lump in her throat growing, but she couldn't stop now. The words had to come out, even if they felt like daggers. "Why do you shut me out every time something happens? You just... retreat, and I have to chase after you, but you don’t let me in."

Azzi looked away, eyes dropping to her hands. The confession struck a nerve, one that had been tender for a while now. “I don’t shut you out. I just... I can’t deal with everything at once, okay?” she murmured, her voice betraying a hint of vulnerability that she rarely showed.

Paige felt the sting of those words, the realization hitting her that, perhaps, Azzi wasn’t as strong as she appeared. But that didn’t make it easier. "I can’t always be the one trying to fix things, Azzi. I can’t keep doing this. You say you need space, but all I’m asking for is to be there for you when you’re hurting. Why is that so hard for you to accept?"

The silence stretched between them, heavy and thick, suffocating. Paige’s heart raced, her breath shallow as the emotions swirled around her. She had never felt so... powerless. The intensity of her feelings, hurt, anger, confusion, flooded her.

Azzi stood abruptly, walking to the window as if the view could offer her some relief. “You think I don’t want you there? You think I don’t want to be open with you?” Her voice cracked, and she quickly swallowed, her back to Paige.

Paige stood up, the impulse to move toward Azzi like a magnet pulling at her. "Then why do you push me away?" she asked, her voice breaking as she stepped closer, the tears she’d been holding back threatening to spill over.

Azzi’s shoulders tensed, but she didn’t turn around. Instead, she stared out the window, a tremor in her voice as she spoke. "Because I’m scared, okay? I’m scared that I’m going to hurt you, that I’m not enough for you, and I don’t know how to be everything you need me to be. I don’t know how to love you the way you deserve. I never learned how to be... this vulnerable."

Paige froze, the words hitting her like a physical blow. "Scared?" she repeated softly, her eyes welling up as she processed what Azzi had just said. “Azzi, you’re not gonna hurt me. But pushing me away, keeping me at arm’s length... that’s what hurts me. It breaks my heart every time.”

Azzi’s breath hitched as she finally turned to face Paige, her eyes wet with unshed tears. "Please can we just stop talking about it right now," she whispered, her voice fragile, barely above a whisper. “I need to think, please give me space.”

…

The sound of a basketball echoed through the empty UConn practice gym. The steady rhythm of dribbling, the squeak of sneakers against polished hardwood, the sharp breath of exertion everything about Paige’s movements screamed frustration.

Her blonde ponytail bounced as she moved, her body working on autopilot. Dribble, crossover, step-back jumper. The ball swished through the net with perfect precision, but she barely acknowledged it. The burn in her muscles wasn’t enough to drown out the ache in her chest.

She was angry. And hurt.

She and Azzi had argued before, sure. They were passionate and stubborn, so sometimes that led to disagreements. But this? This had been different.

This had felt like a crack in something she thought was unbreakable.

The gym doors creaked open behind her, and Paige’s grip on the ball tightened. She didn’t need to look to know who it was. The air shifted, her entire body reacting to the presence of the one person who could unravel her in an instant.

“Paige,” Azzi’s voice was soft, careful.

Paige exhaled sharply, bouncing the ball once before tossing it aside. She finally turned around, her blue eyes locking onto Azzi’s.

Azzi looked hesitant, arms crossed over her chest like she was bracing for impact. “Can we talk?”

Paige scoffed, a humorless laugh escaping her lips. “Now you want to talk?” Her voice was laced with bitterness, but underneath it was something more vulnerable.

Azzi flinched at her tone. “Paige, please.”

Paige shook her head. “You don’t get to do this,” she said, voice rising slightly. “You don’t get to shut me out, walk away, and then just show up like nothing happened.”

Azzi looked away, guilt written all over her face. “I know,” she murmured. “I messed up.”

Paige let out a shaky breath, her frustration bubbling over. “Do you even know what it felt like last night? To stand there, telling you how much I need you, and then just watch you walk away?” Her voice cracked at the end, and she hated how raw she sounded.

Azzi took a hesitant step forward. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

Paige let out a bitter laugh. “But you did. You always do this, Azzi. Every time things get hard, you shut down. You don’t talk to me, you don’t let me in you just leave me standing there, wondering if I said something wrong. Wondering if I’m too much for you.”

Azzi’s face crumpled. “Paige, no—”

“Then why do you do it?” Paige interrupted, blinking rapidly as the emotions threatened to spill over.

Azzi swallowed, looking down at her hands. “Because I’m scared.”

Paige stilled, her breath catching in her throat. “…Scared of what?”

Azzi’s voice was barely above a whisper. “Of losing you.”

Paige felt something in her chest tighten.

Azzi exhaled shakily, finally meeting Paige’s eyes again. “I love you so much, Paige. It terrifies me. Because what if I say the wrong thing? What if I mess this up? What if I hurt you so badly one day that you decide I’m not worth it?”

Paige’s heart ached at the sheer vulnerability in Azzi’s voice.

“I shut down because I don’t know how to handle it,” Azzi admitted. “But I see now that walking away only hurts you more. And I never, ever want to be the reason you feel like you’re not enough. Because you are, Paige. You always have been.”

A tear slipped down Paige’s cheek before she could stop it. Azzi’s face crumbled at the sight, and she took another step forward, closing the distance between them.

This time, Paige didn’t move away.

Azzi reached for her hand, lacing their fingers together. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered.

Paige let out a shaky breath, squeezing Azzi’s hand like it was the only thing grounding her. “I don’t need you to have all the answers, Azzi. I just need you to let me in.”

Azzi nodded, her grip tightening. “I will. I swear.”

For a moment, they just stood there, wrapped in the quiet intimacy of the gym.

Azzi’s eyes softened with understanding, and she reached out to touch Paige’s arm, her fingers light, barely brushing against her skin. “You’re not alone,” Azzi said, her voice steady now, filled with determination. “I’m here. I always will be. I just—” She faltered, her lips parting slightly. “I just need you to know that I love you. I’m sorry I haven’t shown it the way I should.”

Paige’s chest tightened at the sincerity in Azzi’s words, and before she could stop herself, she stepped closer, closing the distance between them. “I love you too,” Paige whispered, her voice low. The words felt like they’d been stuck in her throat, but saying them now, with Azzi standing so close, felt like an exhale she didn’t realize she needed. “I need you to show me though. I need to know you’re here.”

Azzi looked into her eyes, her gaze searching. Slowly, Azzi’s hands moved to Paige’s face, gently cupping her cheeks, her thumbs tracing circles on her skin. The softness of Azzi’s touch made Paige’s heart flutter, but it also made something inside her stir a longing that had been building for so long.

Azzi’s eyes softened, and she leaned in, her lips brushing against Paige’s forehead in a tender kiss. “I’m here,” she whispered. “Always.”

And then, without another word, Azzi’s lips found Paige’s in a kiss that was everything Paige had been craving. It started slow, tentative, like they were both testing the waters. But soon, the kiss deepened, becoming more urgent, more desperate. Azzi’s hands slid into Paige’s hair, pulling her closer, and Paige responded in kind, her arms winding around Azzi’s waist, bringing her even closer.

Every kiss, every touch, felt like a promise. A promise that they were here. That they were in this together.

Azzi pulled back for a moment, her chest heaving with breath. “Paige, I… I need you,” she whispered, her voice raw with emotion. “I’ve needed you so badly, but I’ve been afraid. Afraid I might push you away.”

Paige’s breath caught in her throat, her hands moving to Azzi’s back, feeling the warmth of her body through the fabric of her shirt. “You won’t,” Paige murmured. “You never will.”

Paige’s hands slipped lower, resting on Azzi’s hips, her touch gentle but insistent. There was a tenderness in her movements, but also an undeniable hunger. The way her fingers traced the curve of Azzi’s body made her heart race, her body reacting without thinking.

Without breaking the kiss, Paige guided Azzi toward the bench at the side of the court. She gently sat down, pulling Azzi to straddle her lap. The position felt intimate, natural, but there was something else, a need between them, an unspoken longing that was growing stronger with every moment.

Azzi’s hands slid down to Paige’s shoulders, her fingers lightly grazing the fabric of Paige’s shirt before pushing it up, inch by inch. Paige lifted her arms, allowing Azzi to pull it off completely, revealing her arms, the soft glow of her skin in the dim light of the gym. Azzi couldn’t stop herself from running her hands over Paige’s bare skin, her fingertips tracing the lines of her muscles, feeling the warmth of her body.

Azzi leaned forward, capturing Paige’s lips again, the kiss deepening as Paige’s hands moved to Azzi’s shirt, tugging it up over her head. Their lips never parted, their movements eager but tender, as if they both wanted to savor every second.

When they finally broke apart, both of them breathing heavily, Paige’s gaze was intense, filled with both love and longing. “Are you sure?” she asked, her voice trembling. “I need to be sure, Azzi.”

Azzi nodded, her hands caressing Paige’s face. “I’m sure. I want this. I want you.”

Paige’s lips curved into a soft, appreciative smile before she kissed Azzi again. This time, the kiss was filled with a deeper passion, a more urgent desire. Paige’s hands explored every inch of Azzi’s body, memorizing the feel of her as if they had all the time in the world. But neither of them could deny the tension that had been building between them for so long.

Every touch felt electric. Every kiss was a promise, a reaffirmation of their love, their bond. Paige’s hands slid lower, tracing the waistband of Azzi’s shorts, tugging them down slowly, deliberately. Azzi shivered at the sensation, her breath hitching as Paige’s fingertips grazed over her skin, sending sparks through her body.

“Paige…” Azzi gasped, her body arching into Paige’s touch.

“Shh,” Paige murmured softly, her lips brushing against Azzi’s ear, her hands steady and sure. “I’ve got you.”

Azzi sighed contentedly, resting her head against Paige’s shoulder as they stood in the quiet gym, wrapped up in each other.

Then, Paige hesitated before asking, “Can I hold you?”

Azzi’s defenses crumbled completely. Without a word, she stepped into Paige’s arms, burying her face in the crook of her neck. Paige wrapped her arms around her, holding her tightly, like she never wanted to let go.

Azzi closed her eyes, inhaling the familiar scent of Paige’sd skin—vanilla and something undeniably her. The warmth of her embrace, the steady rhythm of her heartbeat against Paige’s own, was more comforting than anything words could provide.

Azzi pressed a lingering kiss to the side of Paige’s head, murmuring, “I love you.”

Paige exhaled against her, nuzzling closer. “I love you too.”

For a long time, they stayed like that, swaying slightly as if they were the only two people in the world.

Then, Azzi pulled back just enough to cup Paige’s face in her hands. “I’m never walking away from you again,” she whispered.

Paige searched her eyes, looking for hesitation. There was none.

A slow, soft smile broke across her face. “Good.”

Because at the end of the day, no matter how messy things got, they would always find their way back to each other.

#paige bueckers #azzi fudd #uconn wbb #pazzi #pazzi fics #paige x azzi #my fic #fiction

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writingbuckets · 3 months ago

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𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐭 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞: 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐯

paige bueckers x podcaster!reader

wc: 5k

synopsis: Y/N and Paige’s relationship evolves from a slow burn to a deep, committed love as they navigate the complexities of their careers and dreams.

warnings: emotional tension, angst, jealousy, explicit sexual content, fluff, relationship growth

a/n: heyyy... so sorry i've been MIA, i had finals then went on vacation and am just now getting settled. but the good news is that im officially on break so i have nothing to do but write. the even better news is that to make for falling off the grid, i've written an absurdly long chapter AND it's a double update. theres also a surprise for you in part 6 *wink wink* enjoy!

The text came earlier than you expected that morning, breaking through the low hum of background noise from the TV. You were sprawled across the couch, a half-empty mug of coffee balanced precariously on the armrest, idly scrolling through a random sports highlight reel that had been playing for the better part of an hour.

Your phone buzzed against your thigh, the vibration cutting through your thoughts. Picking it up, you noticed the name at the top of the screen before you even read the message: Paige Bueckers.

Paige Bueckers:Pick you up at 7. Wear something nice.

Straightforward. Confident. Classic Paige. A smile tugged at your lips as you read the words, the familiar surge of warmth spreading through your chest. She had this way of making everything seem effortless—whether it was threading an impossible pass on the court or casually setting the tone for what felt like your first real date.

You stared at the message for a beat longer than necessary, your thumb hovering over the keyboard. Memories of the last few weeks flickered through your mind. What had started as casual hangouts—grabbing coffee after gym sessions, joining her and her teammates for late-night food runs, or studying side by side in the library—had slowly shifted into something else.

There was the way her eyes lingered a second too long when she thought you weren’t paying attention. Or how her hand would brush yours during a game of pick-up, sending sparks through your skin even when she laughed it off. How the teasing between you had gone from lighthearted to loaded, every quip hiding an undercurrent of something deeper.

The tension had been building steadily, a slow burn that neither of you acknowledged directly but both felt all the same. You weren’t sure when the casual hangouts had started feeling like something more—maybe it was the night she drove you home after a team dinner, her hand gripping the gear shift tightly as you talked about everything and nothing. Or the time she lingered after an impromptu game of HORSE, offering to shoot a few extra free throws with you, even though you both knew she could sink them blindfolded.

You hadn’t put a name to it yet, but the space between you felt charged, like it was waiting for the right moment to catch fire.

Still, Paige had been careful not to push. She kept things easy, never giving you a reason to second-guess her intentions—until now. Something about her message felt different, more deliberate, as if she’d finally decided to stop dancing around the edge of whatever this was.

Your fingers moved instinctively, typing out a reply.

You:Define “nice.”

The three little dots appeared almost immediately, a sign that Paige was already crafting her response.

Paige Bueckers:Something that’ll make me regret making dinner the main event tonight.

Your face heated as you read the words, and you quickly locked your phone, your heart racing. The flirty confidence in her text was nothing new—Paige had always been bold, unafraid to say what was on her mind. But this felt different, like she was deliberately testing the waters, seeing how far she could push before you pushed back.

For a moment, you debated whether you should reply. The temptation to fire back a teasing remark tugged at you, but the idea of leaving her hanging was just as enticing. Instead, you leaned back against the cushions, your thoughts spinning.

In truth, the idea of going on a proper date with Paige wasn’t as foreign as you might have thought a month ago. Back then, it had been easy to chalk up the lingering glances and subtle touches to her naturally magnetic personality. Paige had a way of drawing people in, making them feel like they were the only one in the room. You weren’t immune to that charm—no one was—but you’d convinced yourself that what you had was firmly rooted in friendship.

Now, though, you weren’t so sure. The lines had blurred, the boundaries shifting in ways you couldn’t ignore. And if Paige’s message was anything to go by, she wasn’t ignoring them either.

The weight of it all settled over you as you glanced back at your phone, the screen dark and unresponsive. Tonight wasn’t just about dinner—it was a step forward, an unspoken acknowledgment of the tension that had been simmering between you for weeks.

You glanced at the clock, the numbers blurring slightly as your mind raced. You still had hours to prepare, but suddenly it didn’t feel like enough time.

Paige Bueckers had a way of keeping you on your toes. And tonight, you had a feeling she was about to raise the stakes.

The hours leading up to 7 p.m. were a chaotic mix of anticipation and nerves. You rifled through your closet, pulling out one outfit after another, none of them feeling quite right. Casual but sophisticated? Too boring. A little edgy? Too over-the-top. Eventually, you settled on a sleek black dress with a low neckline that hugged your figure in all the right ways.

As you stood in front of the mirror, smoothing down the fabric and adjusting the straps, you couldn’t help but wonder what Paige would wear. You’d seen her off the court enough times to know she could pull off anything—from oversized hoodies to the rare tailored outfit that turned heads.

By the time 7 rolled around, you were practically pacing the apartment. The knock at the door made you jump, and you took a deep breath before opening it.

Paige stood there, leaning against the doorframe like she had all the time in the world. She wore a fitted blazer over a crisp white shirt, the sleeves pushed up to her elbows, paired with tailored pants that emphasized her long frame. Her sneakers—pristine white—gave the outfit a casual touch, but she looked undeniably put together.

Her eyes swept over you, lingering just a second too long to be polite.

“You look…” she began, her voice trailing off as a grin spread across her face. “Incredible.”

Your cheeks warmed under her gaze, but you managed a smirk. “You clean up pretty well yourself, Bueckers. Didn’t think you owned anything without a logo on it.”

She laughed, the sound low and easy. “Special occasions call for special outfits. You ready?”

You nodded, grabbing your clutch. As she held the door open for you, her hand brushed lightly against your lower back, and the subtle gesture sent a thrill up your spine.

**********

Paige hadn’t given you any clues about where you were going, no matter how many times you’d tried to prod it out of her earlier that day. Every attempt was met with the same maddeningly smug response: “Patience, Y/N.”

By the time her car finally pulled up to the restaurant, you understood why she’d been so secretive. The place was breathtaking—one of those spots that looked like it had been plucked straight out of a luxury travel magazine. Soft, ambient lighting bathed the space in a warm glow, while elegant decor—polished wood, minimalist greenery, and sparkling crystal accents—created an atmosphere that was somehow both intimate and grand. Even from the curb, you could tell this wasn’t just dinner—it was a statement.

“You really went all out,” you murmured as Paige came around to open the car door for you, a move so smooth it made your heart skip.

She grinned, offering you her hand as you stepped out. “Told you I was determined to impress you.”

You followed her inside, the quiet hum of conversation and the gentle clink of glasses welcoming you into the space. As your eyes adjusted to the low lighting, you took in the subtle details that made the restaurant feel special—candlelit tables, discreet nooks for privacy, and an unspoken air of exclusivity that was equal parts thrilling and intimidating.

Paige must have noticed your hesitation because she nudged you lightly with her elbow. “What’s the verdict? Too much?”

You shook your head, a soft laugh escaping. “Not too much. Just…unexpected. I didn’t peg you for the romantic type.”

She gave you a mock-offended look, placing a hand over her chest like you’d wounded her. “I’ll have you know, Y/N, I can be extremely romantic when I want to be. Guess you’ll just have to wait and see for yourself.”

The host greeted Paige with a warm smile—her name clearly recognizable even in a place like this—and led the two of you to a secluded corner booth. It was tucked away, offering just enough privacy to feel like a small haven amid the otherwise bustling space. The soft light from the nearby wall sconce cast a golden glow over the table, and as Paige gestured for you to slide into the booth first, you couldn’t help but appreciate how thoughtful she’d been.

“This is...nice,” you admitted as you settled into the plush seat, glancing around at the cozy setup.

“I know,” Paige replied, sliding in across from you with a smirk. She leaned back against the booth, her long legs stretching out in front of her like she owned the place.

Her confidence was infectious, and you found yourself relaxing slightly, though the elegance of the setting still had you a little on edge. As you picked up the menu, your eyes widened at the selections—dishes with names so fancy you weren’t sure if they were in English or Italian.

Paige tilted her head, watching you with amusement. “What’s going through that overthinking brain of yours right now?”

You set the menu down with a small laugh. “Honestly? I’m trying not to freak out over how fancy this place is. I’m not sure I can even pronounce half the stuff on this menu.”

Paige laughed, the sound warm and unguarded, and it immediately put you at ease. “Relax, it’s just dinner. Think of it as a really well-decorated diner.”

You raised an eyebrow, fighting back a grin. “A diner where the appetizers cost more than my grocery bill for the week?”

She leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table, her playful grin firmly in place. “Okay, how about this? I’ll order for both of us. Deal?”

Your eyes narrowed slightly, both intrigued and skeptical. “Bold move, Bueckers. What if I hate what you pick?”

Paige’s grin widened, and she tilted her head slightly, her voice dropping just enough to send a shiver down your spine. “Then I’ll spend the rest of the night making it up to you.”

Your breath caught, the words hitting with more weight than you expected. You tried to keep your composure, but Paige wasn’t done. She leaned back in her seat, her eyes sparkling with a mix of mischief and confidence. “But, let’s be real—you won’t hate it. I have excellent taste.”

“Oh, do you now?” you shot back, finding your footing again in the banter. “And how exactly do you know that?”

She shrugged, a hint of challenge in her expression. “Well, you’re here with me, aren’t you? That’s proof enough.”

You rolled your eyes, biting back a smile. “Wow. You’re really laying it on thick tonight, huh?”

“Just calling it like I see it,” Paige replied smoothly, her grin softening into something more genuine. “But seriously, Y/N, don’t stress. This is supposed to be fun, remember? Let me handle the menu, and you just enjoy the night. Deal?”

You hesitated for a moment, but the way she was looking at you—equal parts playful and sincere—made it impossible to say no. Finally, you nodded. “Alright, Bueckers. But if you order something weird, I’m holding it against you forever.”

Paige chuckled, lifting her hand as if swearing an oath. “Noted. I promise to stick to the non-weird stuff.”

As the server approached, Paige rattled off an order with a confidence that impressed you, selecting dishes that sounded fancy without being over-the-top. The way she spoke to the server—polite but with a casual ease—only added to the charm she seemed to be radiating tonight.

Once the server left, Paige’s attention shifted back to you, her gaze soft but focused. She drummed her fingers lightly on the table, a teasing glint in her eye. “Alright, serious question time,” she said, her tone light but curious. “What’s the weirdest pregame ritual you’ve ever heard of?”

The question caught you off guard, and you blinked at her before breaking into a grin. “That’s random.”

She shrugged, her lips curving into a lazy smile. “I was just thinking about how some of my teammates have the wildest superstitions. Like one of them has to tie their shoes in the exact same order every time. Left shoe first, three loops, then right shoe. It’s wild.”

You chuckled, leaning back in your seat as you thought about it. “Okay, okay. Weirdest one I’ve ever heard? I interviewed a softball player once who said she had to eat the exact same breakfast before every game—eggs, toast, and a single slice of pineapple. If the pineapple wasn’t there, she swore it threw her off completely.”

Paige’s eyes widened, and she leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand. “A single slice? That’s… oddly specific.”

“I know, right? She was dead serious about it, though. Said it was her ‘good luck charm.’”

Paige laughed, the sound warm and genuine. “I get it, though. Sports are such a mental game. Sometimes those little things trick your brain into thinking you’ve got the edge.”

“Okay, Miss Rational Athlete,” you teased, raising an eyebrow. “Do you have any weird pregame habits I should know about?”

Her smile turned sheepish, and she looked down at her hands for a moment before meeting your gaze. “Nothing too crazy. But I do this thing where I listen to the same song right before warmups. It’s like my hype track.”

You leaned forward, intrigued. “What song?”

She hesitated, a playful grimace crossing her face. “Promise you won’t laugh?”

“No promises.”

Paige rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the grin tugging at her lips. “Alright, it’s ‘Run This Town.’”

You couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled out of you. “Are you serious? That song’s so old!”

“Hey!” she protested, pointing a finger at you. “It’s a classic. Plus, it works. Gets me in the zone every time.”

“Okay, okay,” you relented, still grinning. “I’ll give you that. But now I’m curious—what’s your off-court hype song?”

She tilted her head, considering it for a moment. “Off-court? Probably something chill, like ‘Best Part.’”

The answer surprised you, and it must have shown on your face because Paige raised an eyebrow. “What? You didn’t think I was capable of being mellow?”

“I mean… not really,” you teased, biting back a smile.

She laughed, shaking her head. “Wow. See, this is why I asked you out. You keep me humble.”

You couldn’t help but smile at that, your chest warming at the sincerity beneath her playful words. “Glad I could be of service.”

Paige leaned back, her eyes scanning your face like she was committing every detail to memory. “Alright, your turn. What’s the one thing that always gets you in the zone? For work, podcasts, whatever.”

You thought about it for a moment, tapping your fingers against the table. “Honestly? Coffee. I know it’s basic, but if I don’t have a cup before I start working, it’s game over. My brain just doesn’t function.”

She laughed, her gaze softening. “That’s not basic. That’s survival. Trust me, I’ve seen my teammates without coffee before morning practice. It’s not pretty.”

The two of you fell into an easy rhythm after that, the conversation flowing effortlessly as you swapped stories and quirks. Paige shared tales of grueling practices and ridiculous pranks her teammates had pulled, while you recounted some of your most memorable podcast interviews and the behind-the-scenes chaos that often went unnoticed by listeners.

By the time the first course arrived, you were completely at ease, the earlier tension long forgotten. Paige had a way of drawing you in, her attention unwavering and her presence magnetic. And as the night went on, you couldn’t help but notice how natural it all felt—like the two of you had been doing this for years instead of just navigating the uncharted territory of a first date.

**********

Dinner was… perfect. Not just because of the food—though each dish that arrived was better than the last, a delicate balance of flavors that you could still taste long after the plates were cleared. No, what made the night unforgettable was Paige herself. She had a way of making even the most mundane details captivating, her stories woven with humor, sincerity, and a touch of self-deprecation that made you smile more times than you could count.

She leaned back against the booth, her posture relaxed but her eyes alight with energy as she recounted her childhood in Minnesota. “We didn’t have much, but we had a hoop in the driveway. That was all I needed,” she said, her voice softening with nostalgia. “I’d be out there for hours, shooting until it got so dark I couldn’t see the rim. And even then, I’d keep going, pretending I was hitting buzzer-beaters in some championship game.”

Her gaze drifted to her glass, the condensation forming lazy trails down the sides as she toyed with the stem. “I probably drove my parents crazy. The sound of the ball hitting the pavement, over and over…” She chuckled, the memory warming her voice. “But I’d get lost in it, you know? Like nothing else mattered in those moments.”

You found yourself smiling, caught up in the vivid picture she painted. It was easy to imagine a younger version of Paige, her determination already evident as she honed her craft under a dimming sky. “Sounds like you were always destined for the big stage,” you said, your tone half-teasing but mostly genuine.

Her eyes flicked up to meet yours, and there was a flicker of something in them—gratitude, maybe, or acknowledgment. “Maybe,” she said with a small shrug. “But what about you? What got you into media? There’s gotta be a story there.”

You hesitated, the question pulling you back into your own memories. You reached for your glass, taking a sip to gather your thoughts. “It wasn’t anything glamorous,” you started, setting the glass back down. “I just grew up obsessed with sports. My first crush was a soccer player I saw on TV—I had no idea what was happening in the game, but I was glued to the screen.”

Paige grinned, a playful glint in her eye. “A soccer player? Scandalous.”

You laughed, nudging her foot lightly under the table. “I was, like, ten. Cut me some slack.”

She laughed along with you, the sound bright and infectious, but her expression softened as you continued.

“Anyway,” you said, leaning forward, “I realized pretty early on that I wasn’t going to be the one making highlight reels, but I loved the stories behind them—the moments, the people. So, I started writing. Got into broadcasting later. It felt natural, like I could connect to the games in a different way.”

Her brow furrowed slightly, as if she were trying to piece something together. “But… you almost gave it up, right? You mentioned that on the podcast once.”

You nodded, suddenly finding the edge of your napkin very interesting. “Yeah. There was a time when it felt… impossible, I guess. The deadlines, the pressure to be better, the endless grind of it all. I started wondering if I was even good enough to be in the same room as the people I admired.”

Her expression grew serious, and she tilted her head slightly, her attention locked on you in a way that made your chest tighten. “So why didn’t you?”

Her question was simple, but it hit somewhere deep. You fiddled with your fork, tracing its edge against the plate. “I guess… I just couldn’t imagine doing anything else. Even when it got hard, there was this pull, like I needed it. Telling those stories, being part of that world—it felt like a part of me, like letting it go would mean losing something important.”

Paige was quiet for a moment, her lips curving into a faint smile. “I get that,” she said softly. “Basketball’s the same for me. It’s not just a game—it’s everything. It’s who I am.”

Her words hung in the air, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. The restaurant’s soft lighting seemed to cast the booth in a bubble, insulating you from the world outside. You could hear the gentle hum of conversation around you, the clinking of glasses and silverware, but it all felt distant—unimportant compared to the presence in front of you.

You glanced at her, the sharp lines of her face softened by the warm light, and felt a strange sense of peace. The kind of peace that came not from the absence of noise, but from being seen—really seen—by someone who understood.

She shifted slightly, her arm resting casually along the back of the booth, her eyes never leaving yours. “You know,” she said after a beat, her tone lighter now, “I think we’re both just a couple of overachievers trying not to burn out.”

You snorted, breaking the stillness with a laugh. “Sounds about right.”

Her grin widened, and she tapped the edge of her glass against yours in a mock toast. “To overachieving, then. And maybe figuring it out along the way.”

You clinked your glass against hers, smiling despite yourself. “I’ll drink to that.”

And as the night stretched on, the conversation shifted back to lighter topics—favorite movies, embarrassing childhood stories, and the kind of idle banter that felt effortless. But the memory of that shared moment, the quiet understanding between you, lingered like a thread tying the night together.

After dinner, Paige suggested a walk. The air was crisp but not biting, carrying the faint scent of rain from earlier in the day. You strolled through the quiet streets, the usual city buzz softened under the golden glow of streetlights. The soft shuffle of your footsteps filled the pauses in conversation, and the occasional murmur of distant laughter or the faint hum of passing cars added a comforting rhythm to the night.

“This was nice,” you said, glancing at Paige out of the corner of your eye.

She turned to look at you, her hands tucked casually into the pockets of her jacket, the edges of her hair catching the light. “Yeah?” she asked, her tone warm, teasing but earnest.

“Yeah,” you replied with a small smile. “You definitely exceeded expectations.”

Her lips quirked into a grin, a flicker of pride dancing in her eyes. “Good. I wasn’t sure if I could top the coffee shop date.”

You laughed softly, the memory of that day sparking a familiar warmth. “This was… different.”

“Better?” she asked, her head tilting slightly, as if your answer really mattered to her.

You nodded, feeling the weight of her gaze settle on you like a gentle pressure. “Yeah. Better.”

The space between you seemed to shrink as you continued walking, your shoulders brushing occasionally. Every accidental touch sent a quiet thrill through you, a reminder of how your connection with her seemed to deepen with every moment.

At one point, Paige came to an abrupt stop, her sneakers scuffing against the pavement. You turned to face her, puzzled, and found her looking at you with an expression that was open yet uncharacteristically hesitant.

“Can I ask you something?” she said, her voice softer than usual, almost tentative.

You tilted your head, trying to ignore the way your heart picked up its pace. “Depends,” you replied lightly, though the intensity in her gaze was making it hard to keep your tone steady.

She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, her hands still in her pockets. It was as if she was searching for the right words, the confident Paige you knew now replaced with someone more vulnerable, someone whose sincerity tugged at your chest.

“What are we doing here?” she asked at last, the question hanging between you like a delicate thread. “I mean… I know what I want this to be, but I don’t want to assume anything.”

You blinked, caught completely off guard by her sudden honesty. Her usual confidence, so steady and self-assured, now gave way to something raw and unguarded.

“Paige…” you started, unsure of what to say.

She didn’t give you a chance to fill the silence, her words spilling out in a rush. “I just—look, I don’t want to screw this up, okay? This, you, us… whatever this is becoming. I’m not good at figuring this stuff out, but I know how I feel about you, and I need to know we’re on the same page.”

You stared at her, the faint sheen of vulnerability in her eyes anchoring you in place. She wasn’t hiding behind jokes or bravado; she was laying it all out for you, her walls nowhere in sight.

Without thinking, you reached out, your fingers brushing against hers before curling gently around them. “You’re not screwing anything up,” you said softly, your voice steady despite the wild pounding of your heart. “This is… whatever we want it to be.”

She let out a slow breath, her shoulders easing as the tension melted away. “Okay,” she said after a beat, her voice quieter now. “Good. Because I really like you, Y/N. And I want to see where this goes.”

Her admission made your chest tighten in the best way, the sincerity in her voice wrapping around you like a warm embrace. You smiled, unable to stop yourself even if you tried. “I like you too, Bueckers,” you said, your words teasing but completely genuine. “Now, can we keep walking before I overthink this and ruin the moment?”

She laughed, the sound breaking the tension and making the streetlights around you seem a little brighter. “Lead the way,” she said, her hand still brushing against yours as you resumed your walk.

And as the two of you moved forward into the quiet night, the unspoken promise of something more hung between you, electric and full of possibility.

When Paige walked you back to your apartment, the crisp night air seemed to cling to your skin, amplifying the charged silence that settled between you. Every step felt deliberate, the quiet hum of the city around you fading into the background. Standing just outside your door, she lingered, her hands shoved into her jacket pockets as if she was holding something back, her gaze steady and searching.

“I had a great time tonight,” she said, her voice lower than usual, like she was sharing a secret meant only for you.

“Me too,” you replied, your voice quieter than you intended, your pulse quickening under the intensity of her attention.

For a moment, it seemed like she might leave. Her weight shifted, her eyes flickering between the door and your face, a subtle war playing out in her expression. Then, almost imperceptibly, she took a step closer, her proximity making the air between you feel heavier, charged.

Her hand brushed against yours—a fleeting, deliberate touch. “Would it be crazy,” she asked, her tone both hesitant and daring, “if I asked to come in?”

You swallowed hard, the weight of her question settling in your chest. The tension that had been simmering beneath the surface all night now felt like a live wire sparking between you. Your breath caught for a moment before you answered, your voice soft but sure. “It wouldn’t be crazy,” you murmured, stepping aside to let her in.

Paige moved past you, her shoulder grazing yours in the process, sending a thrill up your spine. The door clicked shut behind her, the sound impossibly loud in the quiet intimacy of your apartment. She turned to face you, her jacket still hanging open, her hands now free and resting at her sides. Her expression was unreadable, but her eyes—they were full of intent, smoldering with something that made your heart pound in your chest.

“So,” she said after a moment, her tone playful but tinged with something deeper, more serious, “what happens now?”

The question hung in the air, heavy with possibility. Words seemed useless—there was no answer you could give that wouldn’t pale in comparison to the gravity of the moment. So instead of speaking, you closed the distance between you, your feet moving before your mind could catch up.

Her breath hitched when you reached her, and for a fleeting second, her confidence faltered, replaced by something raw and vulnerable. Her hands found your waist with an almost tentative touch, her fingers pressing into you as if testing the waters. But when you didn’t pull away, when you instead leaned in closer, her grip tightened, pulling you flush against her.

The world outside ceased to exist. It was just you and Paige, the heat between you building like a slow burn finally catching fire. Her lips hovered inches from yours, her breath warm against your skin as her eyes searched yours for permission, for reassurance.

You didn’t make her wait. Your hands slid up her arms, your fingers curling lightly against the back of her neck, guiding her down to meet you. When your lips finally met, it wasn’t tentative or hesitant—it was purposeful, a culmination of the tension that had been simmering all evening, maybe even longer.

Her kiss was soft at first, exploratory, but it quickly deepened, her confidence returning as she pressed closer, her hands slipping from your waist to the small of your back. Every touch, every movement felt deliberate, like she was committing the moment to memory.

When you finally broke apart, breathless but unwilling to let go, her forehead rested against yours, her voice a soft murmur in the charged silence. “I’ve been wanting to do that all night,” she confessed, a small smile tugging at her lips.

You laughed quietly, your hands still resting on her shoulders. “You’re not the only one.”

Her smile grew, her confidence now fully restored. “Then I guess I should’ve asked to come in sooner,” she teased, her fingers tracing idle patterns along your back.

Your only response was to tug her closer, ready to let whatever was building between you take its natural course.

#paige buckets #paige bueckers #paige bueckers fic #paige bueckers x reader #uconn huskies #wcbb #uconn wcbb #wlw fanfic #wlw post

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viridescentelf · 6 months ago

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In your debt - Part 3

Young Halsin x Reader

Art belongs to @ozumii-fucking-wizard, I also used their Young Halsin headcanon list as a reference :) i love the idea of him being a bit hotheaded in his younger years hehe

Find Part 1 and Part 2 here.

Slow burn, sorry. But the next part will get spicy, I promise. >:D

Song in this fic:

Warning: Swearing

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You awoke on a huge matt, covered in a thick quilt. Your eyes adjusted to the dim light as you scanned your surroundings. You were staring at a large tent peak above you, which swayed sleepily in the wind. You turned your head slightly, examining the area further. Smoldering embers cracked softly in the middle of the room, with various tiny cushions placed around it. A kettle peeped, hovering above the low fire, green steam escaping its mouth. Adorning the tent were many little trinkets: dreamcatchers, windchimes, wooden toys and engraved clay pots decorated the walls and small shelves. The ground looked slightly sandy next to you, furthering the softness of your position. The matt was far too big for you, so was the quilt. You looked like a little mouse had sneaked into the cat’s bed.

You noticed a stinging sensation and remembered what happened with the goblin.

Your hands drifted under the covers to your pulsating side. A thick piece of rough fabric met your fingers and as you pawed along carefully, you realized it was bandaging. The pain was dull, but made its evil presence known.

That’s right. You were with Halsin. In his village.

You had no idea what else the dreamy druid had done while you were knocked out. You must’ve looked like a corpse.

You noticed you were wearing different clothes. This long sleeve tunic wasn’t yours and neither were the wide pants you spied while lifting the covers.

Had he…had he changed you? You blushed at the thought.

Had he seen you naked???

You attempted to sit up, quickly, which turned out to be a mistake. Deciding to prop yourself up carefully, you hovered over your unwounded side, relying on the strength of your arm. You eyed the large mug of water close to you, bringing it hastily to your dry lips.

It tasted so clean. You realized how gross the water really was back in the city.

You finished the water in a few gulps and placed the mug back where you found it.

Just then, your ears picked up a distant conversation. The voices were agitated. You weren’t able to get up and walk towards the entrance, so you strained your ears to listen carefully.

You recognized Halsin’s voice, who sounded exceedingly frustrated.

“So, your solution is just to ignore the looming threat? How on earth can you be so thick?”, he growled at an unknown male speaker.

“That is no tone to take with me, novice. You’re in no position to question my decision”, the other man answered, his tone so low it made the hairs on your arm stand up. Who was this?

You heard repetitive, thudding footsteps. It sounded like someone angrily pacing.

Halsin spoke again, his intonation louder than before: “If they tried once, they will do so again. And with more devastation. More goblins! They want our children for some sick game and you would rather do nothing!”

“The only person making that claim is lying halfdead in your tent. You do not know them. I do not know them! I will not send a group towards certain death because a stranger made a groggy statement!”, the other man met Halsin’s tone, with warning etched within.

You felt your stomach drop. The terrified faces the children had made while Izick was fighting you flashed before you. You knew you were telling the truth, but how could they know that?

“Uncle, they are the reason our children are safely returned to us!” There was a slight pause and you heard him step towards the tent, perhaps pointing. “If they hadn’t intervened, the drow-“

“Silence!”, the man Halsin addressed as uncle bellowed, the echo reverberating through the area.

“I do not care what could or would have happened. I care about the facts of the situation. It was YOUR task to watch over them. And YOU left Zacharia alone so that you could feel like a hero. Zacharia’s death and the possible fate of your brothers’ and sisters’ is on your conscien-“

A mighty roar interrupted the uncle’s chastising. A second followed with thundering thuds and tremors. Slicing through the chaos, you heard an assertive, older woman’s command:

“ENOUGH! Halsin, Dafydd. Stop this nonsense!”

The vibration in the soil ceased slowly, with one still insisting on remaining.

“Halsin…!”, she threatened.

You felt the shaking of the earth stop, finally but reluctantly. With vicious pants from both of the arguing parties, you heard the woman speak once again:

“Halsin, go check on your patient. And you, Dafydd, go do something you deem important. We do not have time for pointless squabbles like this.”

A pause and finally a few grunts of agreement. You heard footsteps leaving and two sets walking towards your tent.

Why were you panicking? It was ok for you to be awake, right?

You hastily pulled the covers over half your face as you lay down a bit too bluntly. You didn’t want them to know you were listening.

The tent flap slid open and you saw Halsin hold it open for the other person.

An older elf woman walked in, her long grey hair tied neatly in elaborate braids. She had exceedingly kind, hazel eyes that met yours with a soft twinkle. Her dark skin glistened with tiny drops of sweat. Her attire was rather casual, it looked like she spent a lot of time outside, judging by her sun kissed, wrinkly nose.

She smiled and you returned it carefully.

“Ah, so this is the savior”, her voice matched the one who had scolded the two men before. Halsin didn’t say anything, but grumpily stomped to the other side of the tent to grab a piece of wood. He started aggressively carving at it with a knife that looked too small for his hands.

The elf lady rolled her eyes and kneeled beside your head: “How are we feeling this morning, duckling?”

You cleared your throat, blinking a bit confused at the last word, but sat up slowly, while she helped you up: “Uh… I think… ok?”

Your words sounded unrecognizably hoarse.

The older elf conjured a gentle, yellow light from her palm and lay her hand on your shoulder. Closing her eyes, you felt a wonderous thrum from her touch.

“Mmh, yes. Healing slow but nicely”, she opened her eyes, winked at you and turned her head towards the tall druid, who was still chopping viciously at the tiny block of wood.

“Good thinking with the ginkgo leaves, son. Their organs are healing quickly”, she kept her gaze fixed on him. He met her eyes briefly, let out a rough “Hm” as a response and continued shaving.

You looked at Halsin, too. His furious aura engulfed the entire tent. His brows were frowning so intensely that you could barely see his calming eyes. This was his mother? They looked nothing alike. And she was so much older.

The woman turned back to you, deciding to ignore the brewing giant in the corner.

“I’m Anwen, elder druid of the High Forest. I assume you know who the sulking moose over there is”, she gestured vaguely at Halsin, who grunted and continued whittling more aggressively.

You nodded, trying to stop yourself from laughing. The hissy fit was a bit comical coming from such a large man, but you understood where the anger came from.

“Y/N…” you lay a hand on your chest, indicating yourself. “Thank you for … uh…” you were looking down at the clean garb you were wearing.

Halsin blushed excessively in the corner of your eye, turning to face the tent wall.

Anwen grinned: “Well, well, now I know where my sleepwear went.”

You stared at her anxiously.

“Oh, don’t worry. You need it more than I do right now”, she placated.

Your eyes wandered to the back of Halsin’s head. You could see the blushing had increased. So, he had changed you…

“Duckling, I am beyond thankful that you came to my children’s aid. They all won’t stop talking about you and your rescue. I’m sure they’d be happy to meet you properly, once your strength allows”, Anwen tugged at your cover, pulling it over you more and forcing you to lie back down.

You obliged.

“Halsin tells me you overheard something from the goblins. Something about the children…”, she patted the cover close to your chest.

You explained what you had heard before you intervened. Elder Anwen listened intently, nodding along as you described the attire the goblins were wearing to the best of your ability. She thanked you kindly and exited the tent, addressing Halsin to join her in prayer at sundown. This left you alone with the handsome druid.

He finally placed his craft on the sideboard next to his carving knife, leaning against the board and letting out a deep, irked sigh. You didn’t know what to say, so you just watched him.

The silence lingered between you for a bit, when he finally turned to you and tried to smile.

“Sorry. I’m glad you’re doing better.” He approached the side of your matt and squatted down. “I should change your bandage…”

You nodded after realizing you had been staring at him for too long and pushed the cover off your upper half. Hesitating slightly, you lifted the tunic to reveal your nursed belly.

Halsin sat down on the sand and started taking the binding off carefully. You let out small hisses, as he pulled the adhesive off your wound. You saw leaves sticking to the side of the band that lay directly on the most sensitive area. These were presumably the ginkgo leaves Anwen had mentioned before. He grabbed the teapot from the fireplace and filled a goblet with steaming, green water.

You beheld his work in silence, as he dabbed a soaking cloth on your abdomen. He conjured more healing magic with his hands, which hovered over your belly for some time. The comforting humming of his incantation joined the low purring of the fire. The dull light of the tent danced across his face, which seemed absent and deep in thought.

“Thank you for…all of this...”, you cut through the quiet, realizing you hadn’t really thanked him for saving your life.

Your words seemed to snap him out of something. He blinked hard and turned his head towards you, as his hand floated above your stomach.

His smile grew warmer and your heart skipped a secret beat: “You needn’t thank me. It’s the least I can do.”

He returned his attention back to nursing you. Watching him work, you felt a gnawing in your throat that you couldn’t ignore any longer.

“… are you alright?”, You had been wanting to ask about the conversation you overheard since he walked in.

Halsin hesitated for a moment, his eyes flitting from your face to his hands.

“It’s nothing you should concern yourself with. You’ve done more than enough,” he murmured.

You thought about the words the other man, Dafydd, had chastised the young druid with. Halsin seemed to be struggling with immense guilt and a need to correct it.

You accepted his unsatisfying answer and let your eyes wander around the tent, as you heard Halsin sigh once more. You didn’t know each other. Why would he share his woes with you? You were just a useless bard that happened to stumble into an unfortunate situation.

You spent the next few days in his tent, having Anwen and Halsin visit you every hour to bring food, drink and give you healing sessions. You were feeling better every day, the throbbing pain slowly dissipating from your lower body. It got to the point, where you even forgot you were hurt to begin with.

Anwen told you stories about Halsin, whom she adopted as a young boy. Most of the stories were quite embarrassing and you enjoyed learning about his mischievous nature. He carried himself with immense grace whenever he was around you, but you secretly knew he had a massive fear of moths and used to hide in baskets or pots to avoid druid training. He grew more relaxed each passing day, as well, showing off his collection of wood carvings you’d been eyeing in the corner of the tent, realizing you were someone easy to speak to.

You left the tent from time to time, as well, and were allowed to join in meals and share stories with the rest of the villagers. The village had been damaged by the attack, but not by too much. The druids seemed organized enough to fix things swiftly. Everyone treated you kindly.

The children were enthralled with you. They had carved a new, albeit extremely creaky and sad-looking, lute for you as a thank you, which you accepted with warmth surrounding your heart. Their eyes stared up at you, adoringly, as you haphazardly played on your gifted “instrument”, the notes plunking out strained and harsh. Gods, it was ugly. But you loved it anyway.

You learned Dafydd was the archdruid of the High Forest and Anwen’s brother. He was a lanky, older, but tall elf with the same eyes as Anwen, yet lacking her kindness. He had an intense authoritative energy and barely smiled, only nodding to greet you when you joined the circle. The only person he truly listened to was his sister and he was extremely harsh with the rest of the novice druids whom he trained, especially Halsin.

The children begged you to join them in their barn one night, where you learned Halsin slept while you occupied his tent. They dragged you to the heaps of straw, showing off their own attempts at carvings. You spied a larger wooden object hiding under a thin, massive blanket. That was most likely where Halsin slept, judging by the size of the bedroll. You decided not to pry.

The kids requested you sing them to sleep, as the orange sunrays drifted through the small cracks in the wooden walls. They were all snuggled together, glittering eyes blinking expectedly up at you, as you sat on a large bundle of hay.

How could you say no to them?

You started humming softly, watching them curl up closer to each other and stare at you with their little faces. You thought back to a gentle lullaby you had thought of, while you were wandering through a small village, which had a tradition of burning old keepsakes, in order to release them to the spirit world. You had been writing it below the Oaktree you always visited in the High Forest.

You didn’t need an instrument to keep the rhythm going, as the music flowed from your lips naturally:

I smelt smoke

On the wheezing of the wind when I awoke

A pyre of memory

Some fly-tipped treasury

Out there burning slow

Dark soaked fields

And the snuffling wet noses at my heels

Suddenly hackles raise

At the crackling of the blaze

Out there burning slow

And sometimes I catch him

With his axe in

The shadow

So secretive and private,

But I’m breathing in his life when

He’s out there burning slow

You repeated the lines a few times, until you noticed every chest of the children moving slowly up and down in a sweet cadence.

You heard someone behind you and turned to see Halsin leaning against the open door, the dark night behind him, his arms crossed:

“Beautiful tune. Been long since I’ve heard it.”

You blinked at him in stunned silence. He had heard it before?

He chuckled, noticing your confusion: “I told you Thaniel is fond of you. He likes to sing me your songs. The children do, too. Now I’ve had the pleasure of hearing it from the origin’s mouth, as intended.”

“Oh, wow… I didn’t know a forest spirit liked music…”, you pondered that thought, wondering what this Thaniel being was. If he had been listening all this time, where had he been hiding himself while you played on the riverbank?

Halsin joined you, sitting down on the hay ball. The might of his body made your side move up a bit, leaving your legs to dangle. He watched the children sleep, with a permanent smile on his face.

“Aren’t they precious?”, he cooed and you nodded with a silent chuckle, as one ork boy snored gently.

“Oh wait, one moment!”, Halsin stood up and tiptoed to the large bedroll, pulling the woodwork from under the draping.

He hid it behind his back, which worked amazingly, since he was so wide.

“Close your eyes,” he grinned.

You complied and waited with a secret shortness of breath. He had made something for you?

“Open,” he purred, sweetly.

As you opened your eyes, you were met with a beautifully crafted lute. The wood had been engraved with lovely vines and flowers.

Your mouth dropped open.

Halsin hurriedly sat beside you again, the hay ball raising you once again, as he handed you the intricately constructed instrument. The feel of the soft oak gave you goosebumps and the redness in your face was impossible to hide.

The strings were firm and carefully strung into place. You plucked a few softly. It sounded heavenly.

“This- what- how- why-…” you couldn’t string a coherent sentence together. Halsin chuckled.

“The children told me you sacrificed your lute to save them. The one they made for you is ...cute... , but I thought you needed a proper one.”

You gaped at him. You had never gotten such a thoughtful gift in your entire life.

You felt tears bite your eyes, but you blinked them away.

“Gods…thank you Halsin…I- I don’t know what to say. It’s marvelous!”

His smiled widened: “It’s the least I can do, I’m in your debt, remember?”

You smiled back, gazing at the artwork.

Moments passed as you both watched the sleeping children quietly. Your heart was still racing from the tremendous gesture.

You felt Halsin’s shoulders tense up as his face collapsed into the thoughtful one you first encountered in the tent.

You gulped inaudibly and decided maybe now he would be more open to talking to you. You had this urge to soothe him, especially after receiving the lute.

“Are you still bothered by what the Archdruid said?”, the words just spilled out of you. You realized it would indicate you had overheard the conversation and your throat closed up. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to pry…” your hands fidgeted around the lute as you nervously babbled on.

Halsin let out a brief gust of air between his nostrils. He nodded a bit, unbothered by your question.

“It’s just…”, he stopped himself. You saw his hands tremor slightly, “Dafydd is such a…such a…”

Your brows furrowed in concern.

Halsin took another deep breath, calming his slight shaking: “I didn’t abandon Zacharia. He told me to go and help. He told me he would take the children to the thicket and hide. I didn’t know those damned goblins were tailing us.” The words tumbled out of him with quiet agony staining his intonation.

You sat up a bit straighter, put the lute down on the ground and turned more towards him, unsure what else to contribute, but offering your ear.

Halsin balled a fist, as he watched one of the girls turn over in her sleep.

“Dafydd won’t go after that filth that tried to steal them. Says it’s pointless and risky and hotheaded. But what if they come back? Perhaps with an army of drow instead of stupid goblins. What if they get their hands on them and…” You heard his knuckles crack as he flexed his fist more.

He realized what he was doing with his hand and released his grip.

“I have to do something. I can’t just sit by and hope for the best.” His eyes scanned the barn floor, then finally met your worried gaze. The jade hue sparkled in the moonlight. You buried the thought about how handsome he was, while you focused on his problem.

You let his words swirl in your mind for a while. You never had any contact with Lolth sworn drows, just the kind ones that had escaped that fanaticism to Baldur’s Gate. At least you assumed they were Lolth sworn, you didn’t know of any other drow group that would do such a thing.

You agreed with Halsin. It was a terrible threat and a danger for the children to have the sheer possibility of another kidnapping exist.

“The thought haunts me, too. So, I understand how you feel”, your voice was almost a whisper, in fear of waking the sleeping souls, “It’s a huge risk to let them conspire in the dark.”

Halsin nodded. He leaned forward, holding his weight on his legs with his elbows.

He seemed to be at war with himself, unsure if he should tell you something. His eyes scanned you and you felt your body shake. A thought of what his lips tasted like invaded you, which you blinked away ashamedly.

Focus.

You attempted to hide your racy thoughts with a stupidly fake cough.

Halsin sat up again and bit his lip. Then he grabbed your hands and held them within his own. A brush of heat sizzled up your spine. He was so close to you.

“I’m going after them. I need a few nights to prepare, but then I’ll track those miscreants down. Frelma and Danan have agreed to come with me. Three is better than one. I have no idea if we’ll survive such an assault, but it’s better than sitting here and waiting for the next attack. We’re still concocting a plan. The drow are too dangerous to let live.”

His eyes bore into yours, a shred of relief after finally telling someone clouding them: “Please. Do not tell anyone, especially not Dafydd.”

You stared into his forest eyes, that quivered with anticipation at your response. You tried your absolute most not to lean in and clasp your lips in his, although every sinew within you yearned for it. Why was he so Gods-damn fine?

FOCUS.

“I’m coming with you.”

The phrase escaped from you. You couldn’t believe what you just said. Neither could the druid, who still held your hands gently.

He tilted his head, pacifyingly, his eyes softening sweetly: “You are braver than anyone I’ve ever met. But that would be quite foolish. No, you will stay here until you’re fully heale-.”

“I insist.”

OH MY GODS, SHUT UP.

Your insides were screaming at you, what the fuck were you thinking? What would you contribute? Battle music? You would only be in the way.

Halsin let out a soft laugh, lowering your hands but still holding onto them. He shook his head and gazed at you:

“You’re a fascinating person, truly. But I cannot allow you to-“

You released your hand from his grasp and held up a finger. An idea sparked within you. An extremely stupid idea.

“I know I can’t fight. But I can run.”

Halsin’s brow furrowed, waiting for an explanation.

#halsin bg3 #halsin #bg3 #halsin x reader #halsin x you #young halsin #young druid halsin #halsin silverbough #baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 fanfiction #halsin fanfic #Spotify

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blackcoldcrackedheart · 2 months ago

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Buck could already see and smell the smoke from the truck. He watched from the tiny window in the truck as thick fumes of black smoke billowed into the sky, contradicting the sunny weather and bright blue sky.

“Okay team, heads up- IC has already given us the heads up about this fire- we’re looking at mass casualties and possibly people who are still alive being trapped inside.” Bobby warned as the truck slowed to a stop.

Buck was the first to hop out, surveying the scene and feeling the adrenaline thrum through his veins. The fire had swallowed up a row of high rise and high-end apartments and a row of stores that were built under them. Buck could see rows of other trucks.

Including the 217.

For one moment, he felt a slight panic run through him before the feeling shifted to something else- something sullen and heavy.

For a moment he thought it would be a long shot that he would even see his ex. It was a mass causality 5 alarm fire with two other fire departments besides theirs. The chances were there but they had to be low.

He was sure he could focus but then he a group of firefighter controlling the high pressure hose. That’s when he finally caught sight of Tommy; he recognized his stature even from a distance without looking at his turnout. He hadn’t changed in the past four months, he looked good.

Really good- soot covered and sweaty type good.

Buck licked his lips, nibbling on his lower lip and then shaking his head. He needed to focus.

“You good?” Eddie asked, leaning closer to Buck’s shoulder as he studied the man. He had caught sight of Tommy too, noticing the other man’s sadden expression as Tommy watched Buck. Eddie recognized Lucy, Ravi (who had transferred to the Harbor a month ago at Lucy’s behest), and another firefighter Eddie knew from the pickup basketball game- Milton, look between Buck and Tommy.

Eddie figured they were thinking the same as him right about now, that neither man was fully over each other.

He saw Buck make eye contact with Tommy and nod, not even a flicker of warmth in his expression or eyes. Tommy nodded back, his feature cracking just a smidge as he tried to offer Buck a strained closed lip smile, his eyes sad but hopeful. But Buck had looked away.

IC Hernandez was loud over the roaring fire that was going on behind them, he gave the 118 and others a brief synopsis about what was done so far; how they cut power and gas to the whole block, how multiple people were already being sent to the hospital, and how recoveries were still occurring before the buildings could fall.

“How long do you think we have till the buildings collapse?” Chimney asked, the team’s focus shifting from the IC to the burning inferno.

“Minutes.” IC Hernandez answered roughly.

Once they got their orders the team ran to their assigned stations and places, with Buck running to help with the hose. He gave himself a moment to find Tommy, who was also on the hose and putting out the fire further down.

Buck looked up and saw something against the window, “Cap!” He yelled into the radio, “I thought Hernandez said building C was cleared?”

“It is!” Bobby yelled back, Buck looked up again. “Eddie!” he yelled and pointed in the direction of the window, “You seeing the same thing that I am?”

He saw Eddie look confused momentarily before his eyes widen in fear, “Cap, we got someone in building C still!”

“Who the hell else is left?” Hernandez was now on their channel, “Building C was evacuated prior to you guys coming.”

Buck rolled his eyes, “Well not the case now.” He answered curtly. “Permission to go in.” He turned to find Bobby in the chaos.

“Don’t even think about it Buckley.” Hernandez said pointedly, “Building C is timed to collapse, the structure is unsecured, and we can’t ensure that if you go in that you’ll come out.”

“Buck, listen to Captain Hernandez.”

Buck was ready to make a retort, but he saw the window burst open. Showering the ground with pieces of flex glass and metal.

He couldn’t see the person who was able to smash the window out, the smoke was too thick and Buck could see the low glow of the fire, but he could hear a girl’s voice scream “HELP ME!”

Buck looked at Eddie, his face hardening as he ran to the truck to grab an ax and tank. “BUCK, NO!”

He was able to push past Eddie and Chim, knocking them down as he barreled through them in order to save the woman, barely hearing Tommy’s “EVAN!” in the background as he ran into the flames.

“EVAN!” Tommy yelled, only being kept in place because Eddie and Chimney were holding him back with all their might. “LET ME GO! I NEED TO GET HIM! EVVAAAN!”

“Is he insane!?” Lucy asked as she watched the drama unfold, Ravi shook his head as he watched Hernandez rip Bobby a new one for having a bunch of recluse firefighters. “Why the hell would be run inside!?”

“You’ve met Buck, are you really surprised?” Ravi asked, he was worried- sure. But Buck had this insane sort of luck that Ravi admired. He wasn’t too worried about Buck getting out, he was a great firefighter. Wreckless, yes, but somehow smart about it. Ravi was sure Buck would leave with the vic and only get a slap on the wrist for disobeying orders.

Before Lucy could answer, an explosion from building B had them duck for cover as the earth shook under their feet. Ravi felt his stomach drop to his feet as he watched building C partially collapse onto itself. “I thought they cut the power and gas?” he pulled his radio, “Buckley, do you copy?”

Silence.

He turned to look at Bobby, the older man who mere moments ago was pissed now looked washed out and gray as he stared at the building, gripping his radio as he yelled, “Buck, do you copy?! Buck!”

Eddie was already running to Bobby, “Cap, he’s not responding! We need to go in!”

“We run in there Eddie then we’re just asking for more firefighters to follow us in to save us.”

Lucy suggested that they could cut through building D since it was connected to building C and still intact versus the other buildings. “It’s risky, but we might be able to get to Buckley and the vic before building C actually falls down completely.”

Hernandez huffed out a breath of annoyance, looking at Bobby with ire and the fire. “If we do that then we have to be quick, building C is already filled with smoke and building D isn’t that far behind. We don’t have enough time to secure the base’s structure, but the middle wall shouldn’t need support if we don’t cut too high.” He pointed at Eddie and Milton, “I need you two to-” suddenly his eyes shifted to something behind them and Hernandez and Bobby looked alarmed at they both yelled, “KINARD!” “TOMMY, NO!”

The others turned around quickly to see Tommy run into blaze.

#bucktommy #tevan #bucktommy fic

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thebestofoneshots · 7 months ago

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Gilded Constellations | (wolfstar x reader)

Series Masterlist | Previous episode

Pairing: Wolfstar x Reader Word Count: 7.5 K Warnings: homophob*c slurs, homoph*bia. Prompt: If things cannot be changed, can the attention be diverted? This IS a Wolfstar x reader fic, but it's incredibly slow burn. They won't start all dating each other until we're very deep into the story, but I promise the long wait will be worth it. Proofread by lovely: @aremuslupinsimp

Chapter 64: Put Out the Fire

Remus’ hand, the one that had been holding you down seemed to loosen up slightly. You looked up, he seemed just as tense but you saw Sirius plop back down into the water and you couldn’t stay down there any longer, your need for air was almost overwhelming at that point, and while you had frantically looked for a wand in the pocket of both boys’ shirts that were still on the floor to try and use some kind of charm for breathing underwater, Remus’ wand had been on his sweater and Sirius’ on his robes, so instead you’d had to hold you breath.

You gasped for air and looked towards the now shut doors. The first thing you saw was Remus’ shocked gaze, you turned to Sirius, he had his head hidden in between his palms. You looked in between the two of them, you felt your feet trembling and your lips wanting to say something. You hadn’t seen what happened, but by Sirius’ quick standing up and tense muscles under the water, you were sure someone had seen them.

“Who?” You asked, voice raspy. The room was dеad silent, no sound other than the water still coming out of the taps and the soft echo of the small wave you’d created upon resurfacing. Both boys were almost frozen in place. Neither of them seemed ready to answer your question. “Who was it? At the door?” you pressed.

It took a whole moment for either boy to muster up the words. “Snape,” said Sirius almost in a whisper. Remus was still quiet.

“Severus Snape?” you asked, horrified. “How much did he–”

“Everything,” he interrupted. You felt as if you'd gotten a punch in the gut and all the air had been drawn out of your lounges –you knew exactly how that felt. “Except for you, he didn’t see you. Remus made sure.” You blinked a couple of times and let out a short breath, trying to deal with all the new information. “He called us sissys,” Sirius continued. You saw Remus flinch out of the corner of your eye.

“So he’s also homophobic,” you said in a scoff as if you weren’t surprised. “And he… just left?”

“He left when I pointed my wand at his ugly face,” Sirius said, there was a tinge of that very characteristic boastfulness of his laced in his words. “Right Moony?”

No response.

“Moony?” Sirius asked again, now focusing his gaze on him.

Remus was looking at Sirius but not entirely, it was as if his gaze was lost somewhere in the space he occupied. Sirius turned to you, questioning. Remus looked as if he had been petrified, though you could see the soft rise and fall of his chest.

“Remus,” you said, much softer than Sirius, but his gaze was still completely lost.

Sirius was about to shake him but you were fast enough to hold his hand before he got to touch him. He gave you a confused look and you nodded softly. You used your hold on his wrist to draw it closer to Remus in a much softer manner and guided it until he touched his cheek. You then placed your hand on top of Sirius’ –much like you’d done to Remus earlier– and guided his index just under Remus’ chin. As you suspected, his heartbeat was almost as fast as it had been earlier, but this time it wasn’t because of pleasure, Remus was terrified.

You threw another soft look at Sirius before pulling your other hand towards Remus’ unattended cheek. “Remus?” you called again.

“Moony?” Sirius said shortly after, imitating the softness of your tone. He caught on almost as fast as you on what Remus was experiencing. He’d experienced it himself more times than he’d like to admit.

“He knows,” Remus spoke finally. “He knows I’m a werewolf and he knows I’m queer.” You could tell how hard it had become for him to breathe. He was barely blinking as he said it.

“He can’t talk about the first one,” Sirius said softly.

You already knew about the incident. Severus had gotten charmed by Dumbuldore so he didn’t speak about Remus’ secret. You wondered if the spell had been ambiguous enough to also stop him from talking about this. It was highly unlikely, Dumbledore was a brilliant wizard, he wouldn’t leave space for loopholes.

Remus didn’t even have the energy to look at Sirius in the sarcastic way he’d want to. The one that made the obvious thing known: He could talk about the second one.

It was easy to guess what he was thinking. “It’s okay,” you said softly. “It’s okay,” you repeated reassuringly, much like he had done to you in the past. “We’ll figure something out.”

“We always figure something out,” Sirius said with a smile, and leaned closer to press a soft kiss to Moony’s temple. That seemed to somehow ease the other boy.

“That’s right,” you added softly and allowed your hand to glide down to his collarbone, squeezing the space between his shoulder and his neck reassuringly. “It may take us a while, but we’ll find a way. We already found our way to each other, whatever happens after won’t matter.”

“The pressure, it’ll…” Remus took in a shaky breath. “It’ll crush us,” he added apprehensively. “What if– If you can’t take that anymore,” he added as he looked at both you and Sirius.

The root of his fear wasn’t on people finding out, but rather it was on the two of you leaving him because of it. You shook your head and sighed once you figured it out. “Rem, we’ve all gone pretty much through hell before getting together. Sirius’s never cared about other people’s opinions and as long as I have the two of you, I won’t either. Shout it out loud to the entire school if you want, I’m yours, we’re yours, and nothing will change that.”

“She’s right Moons, if you think some Slytherin’s badmouthing us will make us step away from you then–”

“It’s not just the Slytherins,” Remus interrupted, insisting, anxious. “Our very friends could turn on us. You don’t know the kind of prejudice they have against queer people, against people in a menage a trois or whatever it is you call it. They will look at us and they will judge us wherever we go and–”

“Hey,” you said softly when you realised his words were taking over his thoughts. “Name one friend you think would leave us if they found out. I dare you.”

Remus seemed to think about it for a second, he opened his mouth to speak but he couldn’t say a thing. “None of them would,” Sirius confirmed. “You know that, right?”

“What about my father?”

“You could always say you’re only half gay, you’re also dating a woman,” said Sirius nonchalantly and got a slap from your side.

“I’m sure Hope would help him understand if it ever gets big enough for him to hear about it,” you said with a smile. “Don’t worry so much, Rem. We are together in this, we’re not planning to leave you any time soon.”

“Yeah?” He said softly. Almost too quietly to be heard. As if he was scared you might go back on your words.

You smiled and leaned in to hug him, Sirius was shortly behind, the two of you embracing Remus tightly. Both boys were still quite shirtless, and you could feel their soft skin against your hands and face, it was reassuring in a way. Your cheeks pressed to the crook of his neck and Sirius pressed almost right behind you. It took him a few seconds, but eventually, he also closed his arms around Sirius, pushing you even closer to him, as if to make sure you were real, as if to make sure you were really there, hugging him, and telling him you’d be with him no matter what. Just months ago something like that would seem unimaginable, and here you were.

“I mean,” Sirius said. You could hear the teasing smile on his face even if you had your back turned on him. “Did you really think we’d ever want to stop after getting a taste of you?” He added before pressing a sonorous kiss on Remus’ cheek. The smack sound echoed through the entire place.

Remus was startled at first, growing almost red from the unexpected remark –and he was lucky Sirius didn’t lick his face as he initially intended– but then he chuckled light-heartedly. You smiled and pressed a kiss to his neck as well, much quieter than Sirius’ but loud enough for him to hear. “I mean, Sirius’ is right. How could we ever?”

Remus’ chuckles grew a little louder. And he tightened his grip around the two of you. A few minutes passed like that. After the heat of the moment and the cold bucket of water that Severus had thrown your way, it was a nice, simple, and incredibly reassuring embrace. “We should probably leave now,” he said while rubbing circles on Sirius’ back and pressing a short kiss to your hair.

“I don’t want to,” you said petulantly. The idea of leaving the warmth and comfort of them presenting itself almost as a nightmare.

“Severus might tell a teacher, and then we’ll really be in trouble.”

“Remus!” Sirius complained this time around. He was clearly much calmer now, impossibly delighted at having both his boyfriend and his girlfriend cling to him so fervently.

“You both know we should go, don’t make me the bad guy.”

You grumbled something as you pushed yourself off him, “Why did we say we wanted common sense in the relationship,” you sighed as you turned to Sirius.

“Because we’re both reckless and would probably end up in detention without Moony,” he reminded you.

“Well detention doesn’t sound so ba–”

“Bathroom cleaning.” Remus said without batting an eyelash.

You stood straight almost in an instant. “Remus is right, we need to leave this place,” you said as you leaned down and allowed your hand to dive down into the water to pick up their shirts, handing them over shortly after. You’d gotten it wrong and mismatched them to their owner, the boys smiled when they noticed, exchanging the wet clumps of fabric between each other as they looked at you stepping out of the water with clothes completely soaked but clean in comparison to earlier.

Neither boy said a thing, but the sight of your shirt and skirt clinging to your body due to the water tempted both of them to forgo common sense and just continue with what you’d started before Severus arrived. “What?” you asked as they stared.

“Nothing,” Sirius said, almost too quickly before busying himself with the damp cloth in his hand. Trying to expand it and put it on, even as it was wet. “How is it so much harder to put on a wet shirt than to remove it,” he mumbled as he struggled to find one of the arms.

“You’re not really meant to put on wet clothes, only to remove them,” Remus replied with a teasing smirk before also leaving the tub. He was dripping, the droplets of water disappearing into the charmed floor. It seemed like whatever water reached it would instantly dry, it’d been designed to avoid students tripping on wet surfaces; it was still fascinating to see the droplets almost disappear as if they had been swallowed by a sponge the moment they touched the ground.

His trousers were half on –since you’d managed to remove one of the buttons– and pulled down as he stepped out of the bath. Sirius hollered something about him having a “Great arse” and you tried not to laugh as Moony frowned, and pulled up the trousers as a blush suffused his face. Not that Sirius had actually seen anything other than his underwear.

You leaned back a little bit to look and nodded. “No, I mean he’s definitely right,” you said with a shrug. Which got an exasperated –and yet diverted– look from Moony. He shook his head as he pulled on his shirt, picked his jumper from the side of the tub and took his wand out from one of the sleeves, where it had previously gotten stuck.

“Little Witch, come over,” He said softly. You approached him without questions and he cast a simple spell over you, in a second your clothes were all dried up, they even looked ironed.

“That’s a neat trick,” you said as you adjusted the button and realised the small hole in the side of your skirt had also disappeared. You looked at it puzzled as you turned to Remus with amazement.

“It’s a repairing charm,” he responded with a shrug. “I begged Pomfrey to teach me how to do it. I’d lost a great deal of my clothes because of Moony.”

“You’re so brilliant!” you said as you took his hand in between your hands and pressed a fast kiss on his lips. He seemed rather content with your sudden show of love and appreciation. You’d called him brilliant before about a hundred times, but if from now on that praise also came with a kiss, then he’d have to be twice as brilliant as he’d been before.

By the time you left the bathroom, both boys had been dried with Remus’ spell, and you’d had to step out into the sea of toads on the outside hall. Upon little to no deliberation, the three of you decided that going to the courtyard and blending in with the rest of your friends would be your best alibi. Especially if you made a lot of noise and made it appear you’d been there a while. At least like that, you’d be able to diminish the credibility of whatever Severus decided to tell other people.

If you made the rest doubt that you’d ever been anywhere but in the courtyard, then the probability of having been in the Prefect’s bathroom would go down drastically. Hence, you sneaked through one of Hogwarts’ interminable secret passages and arrived at the courtyard not from the main entrance but rather from an underground passage that dropped you just outside of it.

You used the same technique you had used outside the great hall to climb up and the three of you blended with the crowd as if you’d been there all along.

“Hey,” you said as you approached your group of friends.

Mary was almost startled when she spotted you “Where were you?”

“We got ourselves cleaned after the mud incident, took a while to find you in the crowds.”

“If you had come with me instead of behind your boyfriends–” she stopped herself as if she realised she’d said something she shouldn’t have but added, “Your boyfriend’s beautiful hair then you wouldn’t have ruined your uniform.”

You pushed her with your shoulder playfully, not reproaching but rather diverted at how fast her stance had changed when she thought she’d said more than she should. It made you think of how and when you’d tell the rest of your friends about your relationship.

Which had some conflicted thoughts, part of you wanted to keep it a secret, just because of how exciting it was to have them for the two of you, while the other part wanted to tell every single person in the world about it, because dating Remus Lupin was something worth boasting about. Yes, it had been you and Sirius the ones who finally got one of the dreamiest boys at the entire school. However would you want to keep that a secret?

If only there were not such things as prejudices and so on, perhaps you might have made it obvious right there and then. But then again, you might have been the one in less trouble if word got out since you weren’t the one openly breaking the classic heterosexual relationships, the boys were. Not even Tom was openly gay, even if it wasn’t exactly a secret, it was more as if he belonged in a secret club, where only other members of the club and selected allies were admitted.

It was the only way to maintain everyone safe since you were sure the racism already existing in some places of the school wouldn't take too long to turn into homophobia. Yet another excuse to belittle people. After all, you had met Arkalis, and the way he’d implied things about Evan had been enough to tell you the position of the Pure Blood Community in regard to sexual preferences.

“What do you mean ‘her boyfriend’s beautiful hair?’” Asked James as he turned to Lily in an almost reproachful tone.

“Nobody can deny it, Sirius has the best hair,” said Marlene.

“Between who?” protested James. “The Marauders?”

“Probably the entire school,” answered Mary with a shrug.

James looked honestly offended by the entire ordeal, not because he didn’t think Sirius had amazing hair, but because Lily thought Sirius had amazing hair. Not that she didn’t have any right to think it, of course, she could think whatever she liked, but it didn’t stop the little discontent over it. “Well, I think Lily has the best hair.”

“Of course you do,” Everyone retorted, almost in a choir. James just frowned in return and placed his hand around Lily who rolled her eyes and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek, instantly making the frown disappear.

Out of the corner of your eyes, you noticed Severus walking past the entrance and towards a bunch of Slytherins on the other side of the courtyard. His robes were still filled with mud, and he was covered by what you recognized to be the slime on the library entrance. There was a choir of laughter among the students once a small Hufflepuff girl noticed him and pointed his demeanour at her friends who seemed genuinely diverted at the sight.

“That is enough, Miss Bingley, please,” McGonagall said in a rather stern voice.

“But Professor,” retorted another Hufflepuff that stood beside her. “He’s covered in troll snot!”

This caused yet another chorus of laughs, this time even the Slytherins were poking fun at Severus who had already turned crimson from anger, his face contorting into that of an angry ostrich. When he noticed your staring he gave you a disdainful face with an air of superiority. As if he knew something you didn’t and he knew that something had the power to destroy you. Severus had assumed Sirius was cheating on you with Remus Lupin, and he was already devising a plan to bring the three of you down. He had this unwavering idea that it was your fault he was miserable and that Lily had started dating Potter because you had prompted her to it. He didn’t think it was a coincidence that Potter had been chasing after her for years; only when you appeared in the school had she actually decided to give him a chance.

For all Severus cared, you and James had put a spell on Evans and that’s why she hung out with you so readily. After all, it had been after you arrived that she had started to throw those resentful looks his way. Almost as if she had started to hate him, which had never happened before. And it was in this madness that Severus was determined to destroy you. He didn’t give a damn if you recently lost your mother and friend, not even when he read on the papers that you’d run away from home; in fact, he’d even hoped you wouldn’t return at the beginning of the year. He was so upset and bitter over the way Lily was acting toward him that he blamed it all on you and couldn’t see past his pain.

It being your fault made sense, you were the perfect scapegoat, especially when he was not ready to admit it had been his attitude, and what he had called her that made Lily start being so wary of him.

Unbeknownst to all his plans, you held his gaze and smirked, leaning closer to Sirius. “You should have told me he looked so ridiculous,” you said with a laugh, that caused Sirius to also pay attention to Severus. There was a fire in the Slytherin’s eyes as his gaze crossed with Sirius’ unbothered and clearly diverted one.

“Severus Snape?” Sirius questioned. “Or should we say Severus Snail?”

Some other kid caught wind of what he said and repeated it a little louder, soon enough there was a choir of voices chanting “Severus Snail, Severus Snail!” while the rest laughed at the ridiculously fitting nickname for the boy covered in slime.

Severus puffed and blew, and looked more pissed than anything, his stupid proud smile erasing from his face as more and more voices joined the chanting. Neither you nor Sirius had joined, but both of you were laughing merrily. And as Sirius had placed his arm around you and had you lean closer to him, Severus thought he was the most disgusting man he had ever seen (after Potter). But he didn’t feel sorry for either of you, instead, he was ready to rip you to shreds.

“Enough!” repeated McGonagall, in a much more commanding tone than the one he had used the first time. “Mr Snape, please go to Mr Slughorn to see if he can help you out of your… predicament,” she added. “Everyone else, the classes are suspended for today. Food will be served on the lawn next to the black lake and you shall remain there until further notice, is that clear?”

There was a choir of excited “yes” coming from the crowds.

She sighed and then turned around, Professor Nightshade was by her side. She gave you a weary glance since she’d been trying to get a hold of you since you went back to school, but the situation at hand seemed a lot more relevant. The rest of the teachers, including Sprout, Flitwick and Spellman, leaned in to hear what McGonagall was telling them in a much softer tone. “I’ll talk to the house elves to devise a plan for the displacement of the Toads,” she said. “Unless anyone has any other ideas?”

The teachers disappeared into the roofed section of the courtyard and you turned to look at Lily with a proud smile, leaning onto her before whispering: “Told you you didn’t have to worry about the homework.”

Even with the thick snow outside, the students had all armed themselves with warming spells, there had been a few fires constructed near the lake and the elves were handing out hot chocolate with warming potions –courtesy of Slughorn– to everyone that required them. The prank had turned a boring first day of school into somewhat of a winter picnic or an exterior of a ski resort lounge party. The lake was frozen, the elves had gotten some skates and some students were skating about while others remained close to the fires while drinking their hot cocoas and roasting marshmallows.

Eventually, a Ravenclaw had the brilliant idea of also cooking food in the fire and with the help from the house elves got his hands on some raw meat in bruschetta sticks and with a spell had them float and spin around the fire as they cooked.

He taught some other students how to do it, and suddenly almost all the fires were not only for warming people but also a buffet of all types of roasted food and vegetables.

The day might have started with toads, but it ended in a winter festival!

It’s been a few hours since you’d gotten there with everyone and by then you were all just lounging on the snow, close enough to the fire to be warm, but not so much that the snow would melt underneath you. You had a bruschetta of roasted vegetables in your hand and were munching on some green stuff that tasted like zucchini but with spices.

“Well it turned out a lot better than I expected,” said James as he leaned back next to Sirius, you had been lying in between him and Remus, shoulders bumping into each other as you pulled food into your mouth. Remus would occasionally have some marshmallows float towards him and share them with you and Sirius.

“Yeah, we’d never had a prank ended in a party,” said Peter from the other side. He was drinking some hot chocolate and had about 5 marshmallows floating beside him, and another 5 -much smaller ones– inside his beverage. “They almost always end up in detention.”

“You think they’ll figure it was us?” asked Sirius thoughtfully.

“I don’t think they even know how it was done,” you retorted. “I mean there is no spell that gets so many toads in so many places at once.”

“I believe Flitwick and Spellman are trying to figure that out,” added Remus. “I saw them talking to some of the elves, and Nimbletwist said they had been tasked to revise the origin of the toads, but no one is sure where they came from.”

“Luckily the Swampbombs don’t leave any magic traces…”

“Don’t be so sure,” said Peter. “We thought stink pellets didn’t leave any traces after their dung was completely released and we got in detention anyway.”

“How did they figure out they had been yours?”

“The Slytherins threatened the Zonko shopkeeper to tell them who’d bought them,” he admitted. “Moral of the story– never buy pranks under your own name.”

You laughed at that and took another bite of your bruschetta, whatever you’d eaten was sweet and slightly condimented, you weren’t sure you’d eaten it before, but you certainly enjoyed the texture of it in your mouth, not to mention the taste was exquisite.

“Hey, wanna go skating?” Annie Doxon said as she approached Peter, you could tell he was trying to hide his smile and look cool about it when he got up as she extended her hand. You smiled as you saw the two of them towards the lake.

“And you, Étoile? Wanna skate?”

You hummed in return, you’d barely slept that night, and then you’d gotten a dеath scare at the bathrooms. It's not that you were sleepy, or that you wanted to sleep, but rather that you were much too tired to will yourself to stand anytime soon. Not to mention there was no place as comfortable as lying between the two of them. “Not right now,” you admitted. “But if you want to–”

“No, I’m good here too,” he added with a smile, leaning his head a little closer to yours. “Can I have some, Moons?” he asked Remus as he gave a bite to a marshmallow. Moony smirked and floated it towards Sirius who promptly gave it a bite of his own.

“This is really nice,” you said as you took another bite of your food.

“Not having class?” asked Sirius.

“The marshmallows?” quipped Remus.

“No, being with you,” you said, not realising how freaking sappy you’d sounded until it was too late.

“Is it?” Sirius said with a smirk as he turned to you with a teasing eyebrow and you groaned in return.

“Never mind, I take it back, I take it back,” you joked, it didn’t matter, Sirius had already thrown himself over your stomach, pushing you closer to Remus and looking up at you with a teasing smile.

“What about it is it that you like so much?”

“Oh, please!” you complained with a smile as you tried not to make it evident how flustered you’d gotten over your own stupidity.

“Come on, Étoile, dis-moi!”

“Non, non je t'en prie.”

“I’d certainly like to hear it too,” Remus said as he leaned on his elbows to be able to look at the two of you better. It was like the entire world around the three had faded, leaving only you and nothing else. “What is it, Little Witch?”

“You just like torturing me, don’t you?” you said, playing offended.

“Perhaps we do,” Sirius responded as he looked at Remus with a rather complicit smile.

“It’s just that you look exceptionally cute when you’re flustered,” Remus said, much quieter, in case someone was listening to the three. You covered your face with your hands but both of them were quick and moved them out of the way, looking at you with infuriatingly teasing smiles.

You frowned and pouted and the two boys blurted out laughing. Perhaps if Severus had seen the entire thing happen he would have realised he’d gotten it all wrong, and that his plans to torment you would dissolve in water like an effervescent tablet.

You were shaking your head as the boys continued to laugh their heads off when you heard a rather big explosion. The entire place went quiet, and people turned to look towards the castle. It couldn’t have been the prank, there was nothing in the swampbombs akin to an actual bomb.

“What–”

“My god,” you heard a Hufflepuff girl –Alice Becket– say as she looked towards her window. You gave Remus a look since they had been a thing and he just shrugged in return. “I left my fireworm in the dorm room, if toads got in…”

Suddenly there was another explosion, this time it was louder.

“Alice!” Michael, another Hufflepuff, screamed. “Did you also take Puxie out of her cage?”

“She looked constrained,” Alice said with a miserable-looking expression.

And then there was another boom. Imogen, who at some point had sat beside Remus winced. “And… that must have been Tony.”

“Your fireworm?” you asked as you turned to her. She nodded in return.

“Alice, may I have a word with you?” Said Professor Spellman with a rather stern look. “Care to explain the explosions in the common room?”

“It’s the fireworms, Sir. I think they might have encountered the Toads…” she said and then she looked down, shaking her head. “Poor Drewie…”

“And why, pray tell, did a bunch of Hufflepuffs keep fireworms in their dorm rooms?” He said, voice booming and turning to look at Nightshade. She shrugged in response, even if she was head of the house, she had no idea.

“Homework,” said Imogen.

“Hufflepuffs are not the only ones with fireworms either,” said a Ravenclaw as there was another loud boom and smoke started to come out of their tower.

“By Rowena!” said Spellman as he heard another boom.

“Where do you keep yours?” You asked, turning to Sirius.

“Peter is taking care of them, I think he left them with Hagrid or something,” he said with a shrug, not preoccupied at all. So far there had been no explosions on the Gryffindor tower or near the dungeons (that you’d heard) and after a few other booms, the novelty of the incident died and some of the students on other years –everyone that did not own a fireworm– went back to the things they’d been doing before hand.

“I’m so going to fail,” said Michael as he pulled on his hair and shook his head in disbelief. “All we had to do was keep them alive.”

“Loser!” Said Snape as he stared at the smoke.

“Say that again, Severus Snail!” jeered Michael as he turned around, clearly pissed at his comment.

“That’s enough,” Spellman commanded, but neither cared to listen.

“Call me that again and see what else blows up.”

“Your face will,” retorted Michael, as he pulled out his wand and pointed it towards Severus.

Nightshade had slowly walked right in front of the boy, and in a much calmer, and yet somehow equally threatening voice said, “Michael Stradlater!”

He looked at Snape, clenching his jaw and wand still high up in the air. Severus stared at him angrily as he looked at her from the corner of his eyes and then focused back on him. He took a deep breath and slowly pulled his wand down. “He started, Miss!”

“Not my fault he can’t keep his fireworms alive,” Severus insisted, he was in a terrible mood, and being called Severus Snail only made it worse. On the other hand, Michael was devastated over his worm, not because he was overly attached to it, but because he was failing Care of Magical Creatures and needed the extra points keeping him alive would have bought. He aimed his wand against Severus again.

“Michael,” Seraphina said again, it was rather impassive. Voice soft, but a clear warning regardless. The boy didn’t relent this time.

You looked at Remus and smiled, he knew you were up to something even before he brought your hand to your mouth and pulled on the fingers of your glove with a bite and removed it, digging your hand in the snow.

“Professor, I’m really sorry but I cannot–” A snowball surged through the air and fell right on Severus’ face. Michael looked at the scene completely shocked before he allowed his wand to fall back down as he bent over with laughter.

“Who the hell–” Severus started, but then another snowball flew through the air and fell on the side of Michael’s head, which got Severus to scoff. Remus was not wearing his gloves at this point either. “Is this funny to you?” Severus asked as he looked around annoyed.

“Plenty,” said Evan as he threw a snowball straight at his face.

Severus seemed even more offended that his housemate had thrown a snowball at his face than anything, but then a rouge snowball from Sirius fell on a random student and since he thought it had been someone else, he retaliated towards Imogen and Alice, who of course wouldn’t stay with their arms closed.

Less than 10 snowballs later, a fight had ensued. There were snowballs falling on the fires and on the food, and even the students who had been trying to read a book, or work on homework (which of course there were some) had now joined. Remus and Sirius and you had started out as a team, until Sirius accidentally threw a snowball at Remus and he retaliated with one towards him that ended up falling on your arm.

Eventually, Sirius was focusing solely on Remus and Remus on Sirius and you decided to pull back a little since you had already gotten like 10 balls clash onto you in the crossfire. It was as you stood close to the lake, using a spell to make about 20 snowballs at once, that someone with a disillusionment charm passed through and pulled you back behind some old stone walls that you assumed had been some ancient building that the school hadn’t cared much about maintaining.

“Hey Reg,” you said when you noticed it was him.

He smiled, pulled his head up to make sure no one had spotted him dragging you there and turned back. “How’d you know it was me?”.

“All my other friends with mad disillusionment skills are in the middle of a snowfight.”

“Could have been an enemy,” he said in a rather serious tone –you did notice the irony of that thought.

“An enemy wouldn’t have pulled me anywhere nearly as gently as you did.” You shrugged.

He rolled his eyes and shook his head, casting a spell around the two of you so you were both now invisible, but somehow he’d managed to make himself visible to you and vice versa.

“You have to teach me that trick.”

“So you fill the school up with more toads?”

You gasped in surprise. “What makes you assume it was me?”

“You weren’t at the Great Hall when chaos ensued, as if you knew it was going to happen.”

“You were looking for me?” you asked tilting your head to the side with a teasing smile. But Reggie’s face made you realise he was not in the same spirits as you were. “What?”

“I wanted to talk to you.”

“That does not sound like good news whatsoever,” you said, somehow still half-jokingly but with an almost strained tone, as you didn’t want to hear what would happen next.

Regulus took a deep breath and then turned back to you. “After the Christmas party… they thought I’d helped you.”

“But you tried to stop me!”

“They didn’t believe you knocked me out just like that… Evan and Crouch were also on the line.”

“But the wand I gave Barty–”

“It didn’t matter,” he said. “Arkalis for some reason thought Evan would protect you… Of all people, can you believe that?”

You tilted your head to the side and let out a low “hmmm”.

“Wait, you can?”

“It’s a long story. But Arkalis believes I hooked up with him.”

“With Evan?” asked Regulus. He might have not been in the class but he very well knew about the animosity you had towards each other, and he also knew about him and Barty.

“It’s a long story,” you repeated.

Regulus shook his head and sighed before he spoke again. “Anyway, we had to convince them that we all hate your guts.”

“Couldn’t have been hard for those two,” you joked, but Reggie didn’t seem to loosen up after that either, he was tense still.

“How are you?” He changed the subject. You were about to say you were fine but he didn’t let you speak. “Really.”

You swallowed.

“I see you’ve been using her wand.”

You stopped breathing for a moment, not knowing exactly how to respond to that. “Better than I was then,” you said honestly. “I’ve… so much has happened since. It’s been crazy but the boys have been there for me, through and through. You?”

He smiled when he heard you. He could tell you weren’t lying. “We convinced them we never helped you.”

There was an apprehensive way in the way he said it as if he’d had to do something awful to achieve it. “What did they–” Your words got caught in your throat as he rolled back his sleeve.

His pale arm had been tainted, marred with a symbol that it took you no more than a second to recognise. A snake with a skull on top, exactly like the one you had seen up in the sky when he persuaded you to stay outside. For a second you wondered if your mother would still be alive had you actually listened to him. It was a terribly destructive thought that you knew you shouldn’t allow to roam in your mind for too long unless you wanted to be back where you’d been before the mirror.

You took it in your hands and pulled it towards you. “Reggie,” you said, afflicted as you looked at his arm. “Did it– Did it hurt?” He stayed quiet, clenching his jaw, which was enough for you to know it had.

“He can call us whenever he wants now. That hurts more.”

“Can’t we remove it?”

“I don’t think it’s possible, dark magic is involved. Like a curse.”

“All courses can be broken,” you said with determination. “Sirius is way better at that than me thought, perhaps we can talk to him and–”

“No!” he let out in a rush.

“No?”

“Sirius’ animosity towards me was one of the things that convinced them that I wasn’t on your side. Evan also used Sirius as his excuse to not helping you. And while we’re supposed to pretend to be friends with you at school, it’s only to keep an eye, and make sure you don’t interfere again, if not…”

“I get it,” you interrupted, not wanting him to say the words that both of you knew would follow. “But, your brother he, you won’t be able to make up with him. I know he’d like to have his little brother back, Reggie. He misses you.”

“Very peculiar way he’s got to show it,” he responded sarcastically, in a way that was incredibly reminiscent of Sirius himself.

“You’re no better than him.”

“Well, he shows you he loves you.”

“He’s still angry about the stuff that happened that summer,” you explained. “But he misses you still.”

“He has James.”

You sighed, you weren’t sure how to respond to that. “He needs to think you’re on their side?”

“There’s nothing more convincing than his scorn,” he said coldly, you could see it hurt him either way.

“And I? Must I pretend to hate you too?”

“No,” he said as he shook his head. “We’re meant to keep an eye on you, remember?”

“So I shouldn’t be surprised if I end up with Slytherin satellites?”

“I doubt anyone will take it seriously. Except perhaps Mulociber and Severus since–”

“They too?” you asked in shock. Both of them already hated your guts. Perhaps as much as Barty and Evan had before Christmas.

“More than me, Evan and Crouch, even. Since they got in themselves, not through their family connections.”

“Shit.” You said as you thought to the fact that Severus had seen Remus and Sirius in the bathroom. Would he be scared enough just with Sirius’ threats to leave that fact alone? Would he go running to inform Orion? Did he even have a way to contact Orion? What would the Blacks do if they found out?

“Yeah,” he agreed. He wanted to ask you how you were coping. Especially about your mother, she’d seen how much closer you were to her than to your father, and while he would have been almost pleased to have Walburga out of the way, the way in which you had defended Avis was enough for him to know it wasn’t like that for you at all. “I’m sorry about… everything that happened on Christmas.”

“I’m sorry about this,” you said as you placed your hand over his arm again, rubbing your thumb over the mark, as if that would wipe it from his arm. “And everything they made you do after Christmas.”

Perhaps it wasn’t the nicest thing to bond over your sorrows, but at least, Regulus had someone he could talk to. You had always had James and Lily and all your other friends to bond with, but Reggie could not talk about any of the things he thought with almost any of the Slytherins. He could trust no one, he didn’t want to risk it.

“That doesn’t mean anything,” he said as he looked at the mark. “I’m on your side. I’ll always be on your side.”

You knew he meant it. From day one, even if reluctantly, Regulus had been on your side. And something deep inside told you that he would be till the day he died. And while it was reassuring to know that you had friends who would stand by you no matter what, you had also seen first-hand what standing by you no matter what could do to them.

“Stay safe,” you retorted. “Don’t put yourself in harm’s way for my sake.”

“Would you even listen if I asked that of you?” he said with a small, almost teasing-like smirk that reminded you just how much of Sirius’ little brother he was. Sometimes even the way he walked was so reminiscent of Sirius that you had –upon seeing him by the corner of your eye– thought it was him.

“Do as I say, not as I do!” you retorted with a smile as well. Reggie was bringing down his shirt sleeve and buttoning it as neatly as if it had never been pulled up.

“Hypocrite.”

“I’m older, I get to be one,” you added teasingly, he actually smiled after that, it was a genuine smile. Almost a twin to Sirius’ except his was a little brighter. You wondered if someone would ever make Reggie smile like his brother, you hoped there would.

“You really should have been a Slytherin.”

“Don’t go around saying that, you might get beaten up by James,” you smiled. And pulled your wand out of your pocket before smiling and passing it over to him, he looked at you with narrowed eyes. And then you smiled. “Careful, you’ll get cold.”

“What?” he asked, confused.

You smiled and pushed him gently so that he wasn’t covered by the rocks anymore. “Hey!” you said in a voice that didn’t quite sound like you. “Regulus is hiding over there!”

Regulus gasped and then turned to you with a shocked smile. Now that was the kind of smile you were looking for. “You traitor,” he mouthed as several snowballs crashed against him. Three on his arm, one on his face that made snow splatter and colour a good deal of his hair white, and then one on the side of his leg.

You winked and picked up a ball yourself, throwing it towards him. “Go on seeker, let’s see if you’re as good at avoiding small balls as you are chasing them!”

He smiled and shook his head, rolling down on the snow and picking a ball before throwing it straight at your face, even if you were still invisible.

“You were saying?” he asked with a smile.

Series Masterlist | Next Chapter

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A/N: Since we're getting close to the end, I'm planning to do a reread (10-15 chaps left) + heavy revision once we're done (still a few months from there but it's probably going to be done sometime this year) because I want to make my own printed version of it (probably on Lulu), and perhaps a cute epub file? It will probably contain pictures, fan art, and other bonus material. Either way, if you want to collaborate, either in the revision or in bonus content, please don't hesitate to hit me up. Sidenote: please check out this ANNOUNCEMENT regarding some alterations to the posting schedule for the rest of the month.

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