#have already thought if to try to do less ~heavy stuff

[plethorawrites]

How the Batboys would react to finding out and dealing with you self harming/having severe depression.

TW: Mentions of cuts, blood, suicidal thoughts, incorrect use of pills, sort of implied eating disorders.

Please don't read if this could upset you in any way.

---___---___---___---___---___---___---___---___---_

Bruce:

The first time he notices is also the first time you spend the night. The lights were dark and you were both a bit buzzed after downing several glasses of champagne to endure a boring event he invited you to as an excuse to see you. Of course he was more concerned with kissing the inside of your thighs than noticing the little healed scars on them.

He notices them the next morning though, when the sun is streaming through the window and you get up to find your clothes while assuming he's asleep. He wasn't. He saw the marks. The scars. He refrained from saying a word about them, waiting weeks for you to open up about them on your own terms. He could see they were healed so he wasn't terribly worried at that moment.

When you finally told him, you said you'd been clean for months. He had no reason to suspect you would start again.

But you did.

He didn't know the exact day, or the specific reason, all he knew is that you stopped wearing shorts to bed and stopped letting him leave the lights on to see you when you were intimate. You stopped smiling as often, too.

Of course, being a detective, he can tell when you start getting lethargic, not from work or stress but simply life itself. He hears when your words have less meaning, and your expressions are false. He makes it his mission to not let you fall into the spiral any more than you already have.

You might not want to tell him you're hurting yourself but he'd be damned if he didn't do whatever he could to make you stop. That started by holding you tighter at night so you couldn't sneak off to the bathroom to cut, he'd ask you to visit him at work, insist on every meal being at a restaurant so you didn't even have time to try to hurt yourself. And of course, he helps with the tasks you start struggling with, but pretends he doesn't notice.

He just says "Can I practice braiding your hair so I can help Cassandra?" and use it as a chance to make sure you don't start letting your hair tangle.

He even makes the braid a bit crooked even though he can French braid perfectly, just to sell it. He'll wash it, too, claiming it's: "A good excuse to spend time together." after a long day.

He just wants to make sure it's not getting greasy. He can see the guilt on your face when you sit in the tub, staring at the wall. You wanted to tell him to stop, that you could wash your own hair. But you probably couldn't. It felt like too much work and you just wanted to sink underneath the water of the tub for a few minutes of peace. He kept you upright though, kissing the back of your shoulder, the side of your neck, your cheek, making you hum.

You weren't able to feel much, emotionally speaking, but you could feel gratitude and love.

When he notices you skipping meals because you can't drag yourself to the kitchen or bother to cook, he will. He'll make anything, even if you change your mind about what sounds good and make him cook six different dishes before eventually accepting one of them. He doesn't care. He just wants you to eat. The second you show the slightest bit of interest in something, anything, it's yours. You make a comment about the beach sounding nice, the next thing you know he's taken the day off work and is driving you there with the top of a convertible down.

You say you kind of miss one of your old hobbies— be it painting or crochet, it doesn't matter what, the next day the nicest stuff for you to get back into it arrives. Fresh paints, massive canvases or imported yarn and crystal hooks. He watches, intently when you start to focus on something you like again, the heavy ache in his heart subsiding when he gets to show enthusiasm about your project when it's done.

You start holding him again at night, your face buried in his chest instead of sleeping facing the wall. One night you slide into bed wearing shorts and he can see your scars, red ones among the old faded pale ones from when you first met.

He knows they'll heal too in time. Just like you have.

---

Dick: He doesn't realize there's anything wrong several months into dating you until he catches you taking some pills when he was walking back into the room and later searched up the name, figuring out they're antidepressants.

He can't believe he didn't see it sooner and hates that you were always putting on a fake smile with him. He wants you to talk about it, but understands that it's hard for you too and your every attempt to open up to him ends with you in tears or walking out in frustration because the words won't form.

He suggests (very strongly) that you see a therapist and after some gentle coaxing, you agree. He sits in the car the entire time waiting for you and when you come out, numb for a few minutes as you sit there in silence before sobbing uncontrollably for the 20 minutes in the parking lot. He gets you whatever you want after— ice cream, cheesecake, brownies. Whatever you're craving.

He takes you every week, sometimes multiple times a week. He never complains and he's ALWAYS there. He'll wake up early, even if he barely slept. He'll skip family lunch, he'll rush out of a bank robbery just shouting for his brothers to handle it without him. It doesn't matter what, he'll be there.

He's taken to heavy positive affirmations, as well. He puts sticky notes up in the bathroom with smiley faces for whenever you brush your teeth or put on moisturizer. There are little hearts and words of encouragement on the front of the fridge and inside of it too for when you manage to crave a snack. Hopefully something healthy like fruit, but even if it's junk food, it's better than an empty stomach.

Every morning he wakes you up and tells you you're beautiful and he's grateful to have you.

He likes to remind you not to push yourself as well. "If you just manage to wash your hair, you'll have done something" and "If that's too hard, I'll help you make the bed." But also..."If you don't do anything at all today, you still survived. That alone is difficult, but you're doing it."

Every night he lays it on even thicker because he knows it gets harder at night. "I'm so proud of you for making it through another day." And... "I know it sucks right now but I promise I'll help you get through this." And... "Just take it one day at a time."

When you get homework from your therapist— to do 3 hard tasks over one week, make a list of every negative and positive thought to see them out loud and deduce why you have them, physical exercise—he does it with you. No matter how foolish or seemingly simple it is.

Your therapist told you to do something you struggle with? Done. He'll stand behind you while you do the dishes and help you dry.

You need to get something from a store that's dozens of miles away? Road trip. He'll buy the snacks and take turns driving so you don't het stressed out burn out.

You're told to get some physical exercise? He'll be your partner for whatever kind you want to do. Jogging in the park, keeping a slower pace than usual for you, practicing on rings while you climb the stairmaster—he falls, because he's distracted by your ass. But that's besides the point.

When you start to show signs of feeling better, that therapy is working, he's elated. And after several months and things are better, much better, you tell him whenever you're feeling off. Whenever that nagging feeling comes back over you. You guys work through it then and there to keep it from getting bad again.

Though sometimes, when he's leaving for work, you'll pout and say you feel sad just to get him to stay. You both know it's not a depressed feeling. You just don't want him to leave and he'll indulge you. "Oh, well, if that's the case, I'll just have to stay in bed with you until you feel better."

---

Jason: He's busy. Always. But that didn't mean he was oblivious. Yet, that's exactly how he felt when he realized you'd been abusing your medicine. He knew after the first few dates that you were on medication for chronic depression and he was more than understanding about it. Millions of people suffered from it, himself occasionally included.

But when he's laying in bed and catches you sneaking into the bathroom to take three more pills than you're supposed to, he's caught off guard. Then you slide down to the floor, sitting crisscrossed, making small cuts on your thighs, wincing in pain the entire time. It takes every ounce of self control not to jump out of bed and rip the blade from your hand. He contemplates it, he really does. But that would just make things worse. So he waits.

It keeps him up all night, though he pretends to sleep. And in the morning, you're back out of bed, taking more and sliding back in bed, pretending to wake up just like him.

He blames himself entirely.

He thinks he should have been better, done more, noticed something that made it better. It was his job to support you and protect you and he had failed and that killed him in ways that seemed unimaginable.

After an incredibly difficult conversation where he confesses to knowing you've been filling scripts you don't need and taking more than necessary, you're both an emotional mess. But he assures you he's not leaving or angry, just scared for you. He wants to help but needs you to let him.

He absolutely dedicates himself to keeping you away from anything even remotely dangerous.

The knives in the kitchen? Gone.

Even the butter knives are plastic now.

The razors in the bathroom? Thrown out in a trashcan outside so you couldn't find them.

Even the little blade in the pencil sharpener is taken out.

He won't let you have your pill bottles either, at least not at first. He makes sure you take them everyday, morning and night, then after several weeks starts to let you handle them by yourself.

He still sneaks out of bed to count them and make sure you weren't taking more than prescribed. He insists on being the one to wrap your arms, cleaning them to make sure they don't get infected. And wiping your legs as well. He has to remind himself not to squeeze them too hard, the way he wants to.

While holding you at night he makes sure not to hurt them, even though he wants to hold you much tighter to comfort himself as reassurance you're alright. He listens, late at night when you're whispering to avoid crying. When you explain the feeling it gave you. He knows it.

Once they heal and he can hold you tighter, not as afraid of hurting you by squeezing your thighs the way he likes to. He starts kissing them each night, making sure you know they're not embarrassing or shameful.

He's got scars on most of his body; you were the one to teach them to appreciate them. If he could return the favor, he would. A thousand times over.

He tells you the same things you told him. "You made it through."

---

Tim: When you tell Tim, and by tell I mean confess after he figured it out on his own, you're surprised to find that he doesn't have much of a reaction immediately. He stays quiet, hums a little, nods along. He never interrupts but you see his eyes glazing over a bit, the way they do when the gears start turning in his head. He knew, of course, that you had depression.

He knew you hurt yourself, not in the traditional way of cutting or attempting suicide, but in much subtler ways, like forcing yourself to finish a meal even though you're full and your stomach hurts, taking boiling hot showers that leave your skin red and raw practically painful to even touch from how dry it is, making yourself stay up late and function on the fewest hours of sleep possible.

You purposely made life harder for yourself and for the most part, didn't even realize it. He did, though. What he didn't realize was the amount of medicine you'd tried, to the point you felt none of them worked, the amount of therapists and psychiatrists you had seen, the level of depression you had truly sunk to before. It hurt him to realize once you started opening up. He wanted to make that pain go away. So, he researched. Constantly.

He wants to know every single thing that can cause depression, the statistics of self harm leading to suicide, the effectiveness of different treatments or facilities. He knows every antidepressant, their side effects, their manufacturers, and dosages. He suggests inpatient care for you, but absolutely refuses to send you to someplace like Arkham.

Instead, he finds the best of the best, way out of the city, where the entire staff passed his background check, the facility was up to date on every code possible, and the rules seemed relaxed enough to let you feel like yourself while also making sure you're safe. He's allowed to visit and does so as soon as possible, even manages to get extra hours in the night. You have the best of care there, too, he knows because he can see it on your face every time he's there.

The food is wonderful, the private room you have is nice (even if you miss his warmth at night), the activities they make you do remind you of the hobbies you used to love before they became unbearable. Even therapy sessions, always private because Tim knew you wouldn't want to speak about it in a group, are rather helpful.

When you get out after a few weeks, he's right there, waiting, like always. And he's got the biggest smile because he can see immediately the light back in your eyes that he missed so much. He keeps up with some of the tactics you learned or hobbies you started while there, gladly sitting on the floor with you while you do paper mache.

He always makes sure you know you're not weak for needing help and if you ever feel like you need to go back, even just for a week, or weekend, he'll be there for you. Just like always.

---

(Aged up. I imagine you both in LOA)

Damian: It didn't take a genius to know you were a miserable person. Most people in the league of assassins were. He rather liked your level of misery, usually. It was cynical, with a touch of wit and dark humor that always made him feel seen.

It wasn't until he caught sight of a few scars on your calf that he didn't recognize that he started to realize you were more miserable than he had originally thought. You tried to play it off, claiming you got hurt in a sparring match. But that was a lot and he knew it. Because A) you never lost. And B) the cut was at an angle a sword wouldn't be able to reach unless you were the one holding it.

You clearly didn't want to talk about it, so he wouldn't make you. He was always taught that emotions were weak and even though he didn't fully believe it as he used to, he still isn't big on a lot of sentimentality. Which is fine, because you aren't either.

He still keeps a quiet, very close eye on you. Maybe you noticed, maybe you didn't. He wasn't sure. He didn't care either way. He was worried and with your recent behavior, he felt he had every right to be. You started putting in less effort during training, if you even showed up at all. He'd find you on the balcony at night, leaning your head against the railing and staring at the gardens with a blank expression.

Even the things he knew you loved— your favorite foods, the music you liked to listen to on a record player while you got ready for bed. It stopped appealing to you. The meticulous way you'd fix your hair before bed every single night abruptly stopped, too. You simply fell asleep with it as is and woke up with it tangled. You still held him at night, but it felt less like an embrace for the both of you and more like you were clinging to him like a life line.

He pays extra close attention and anytime he isn't allowed to be by your side, he makes sure someone else is. It's hard to keep you away from sharp objects, given nearly everything around them was a weapon, but he tries to get you to vent your rage by cutting training dummies and not yourself.

He also takes you to the quieter, more secluded wing, into an empty room with pillows on the floor. He makes you sit with him and meditate, which he knows is hard at first, boring and you don't have the most energy, but he holds your hand, his fingers pressed to your pulse to make sure you're listening when he tells you to take a deep breath in and think— not of what you're grateful for, like some might suggest. No. Instead of asking you what you want to live for, he asks you what you can't die without. The grudges you're holding, the projects you haven't finished, the people who are just waiting to see you fail. He won't let you let them win.

And it works. That passion and drive slowly comes back with his help and support at your side, doing your hair for you at night and making sure someone brought you a meal three times a day even if he wasn't around to make sure you ate. Your need to be the best and spite anyone who thinks you aren't returns after a while.

One night he finds you training alone, sweat dripping from your brow, your scars both won in battle and self inflicted on display. Instead of interrupting, he simply watches, admiring your form which had improved since you started picking up your sword more often. He loved watching you find your spirit again.

[star--stilinski]

I would absolutely LOVE to request a buzzcut stiles smut omg😭

If you are comfortable and if this is not too much detail could you write something about Stiles being insecure of his buzzcut thinking it makes him unattractive but when he tells his other bsf/reader she’s like flabbergasted and tells him how hot it makes him and it makes him all cocky. Then he’d probably like ask her is she’s serious and when she says yes finally act on his feelings. Maybe soft smut? If that is okay

HALLELUIAH YES GAWDDDD i love this sm omg

☆

stiles frowns at his reflection. scott is ranting in the school bathroom again, but it's all stuff stiles has already heard before and he's distracted anyway. he runs an absent hand over his short hair before following a still-rambling scott out of the bathroom and down the hall.

it's been getting on his nerves lately, how slow his hair is growing. he thought it was pretty cool at first, until he was slapped in the face with the reality of his best friend getting girls left and right and leaving stiles completely dry. not that it's scott's fault- he's just easy to get jealous of with this kind of thing.

"dude, are you even listening?" scott abruptly stops and whirls on stiles. "you've been dead silent for, like, three minutes."

"yeah, i heard you. but it's a little hard to care about your girlfriend strife when she actively wants to sleep with you. speaking of,"

allison is leaning against a locker, watching scott with a dreamy look. she waves and smiles softly, leaving scott to return the smile-wave combo with a lot less charisma.

"listen," stiles sighs, trying to keep the bite of envy out of his tone, "you probably just need to talk to her. girls love confidence. just, i dunno," he waves wildly with his hands. "do that."

scott squints at him. "i think that might be the worst advice you've ever given me."

"worse than killing derek?"

"possibly. now, i'm gonna go-" scott throws a look towards allison and swallows thickly, "figure that out. i'll see you."

stiles calls after him; "don't be an idiot! remember i'm living vicariously through you right now!"

once scott and allison are far enough down the hall, he rubs a hand over his hair again and huffs. stupid, stupid freshman stiles and his bad hair decisions.

"you're gonna rub right through your skull."

"GAH!" stiles jumps back from you, snapped out of his spiraling thoughts. you laugh at him behind your hand, looking up through your pretty lashes. "jesus, your footsteps are like feathers. i need to put a bell on you."

that makes you frown, shoulder-checking him as you start walking. "you're just not used to anything other than two-left-feet scott mccall. i have perfectly regular footsteps."

he jogs to catch up with you as you make your way to the school parking lot, eyeing your choice of shorts. your legs being out is a big plus for his racing mind today.

"hey, you busy today? scott ditched me to go play loverbirds and i don't want to do my homework." he hums, pushing one of the heavy doors open and letting you through.

"hmm, that depends, do you have food at your house?"

"not even a little," he smirks at the almost-yes as you both trot through the empty lot towards his jeep. "that's why we're getting drive thru."

"who's paying?"

"who do you think?"

you cheer excitedly as he unlocks the jeep.

☆

you're sat criss-cross on stiles' bed as he paces, tracking his movement with your eyes. he's on a tangent about scott, actually, and how his decision-making skills are subpar. you're listening intently with a tilted head, watching his hands flex as he talks, and the way his biceps bulge without his flannel on, and how his jawline is so sharp-

"and girls are confusing, y'know? sorry, no offense, it's just-" this catches your attention, making your eyes flit up to his as they dart around the room. "it's just that you're all so... so... what do you guys even want? can't be money, because scott has a girlfriend. can't be personality, because jackson has a girlfriend. definitely can't be looks, because i'm pretty sure greenburg is going out with abby right now."

he sighs and turns on you, taking a dangerous step closer to the bed. his brow is upturned, eyes pleading, lips parted.

"it's this stupid buzzcut, isn't it?"

you blink, just once, before squinting. "what?"

"my hair, it's so-" he pushes a frustrated hand through it, and his jaw clenches. "so not hot."

and when he says it, with his narrowed eyes all sharp and his pink lips pressed together, you think for a moment he must be joking. "...what?"

he turns his glare onto you. "you know what i mean, okay? it's unattractive, it must be. i mean, i go completely unnoticed-"

"wait, you actually mean to tell me you think your buzzcut is ugly?"

stiles huffs, clearly not liking the bluntness of his feelings being laid out. "that it makes me ugly, yeah."

this makes you pause. maybe you're a minority, but when stiles drives his jeep and starts talking fast about something nerdy, you imagine climbing into his lap and making him crash the car. one time you two were arguing while he was in his lacrosse uniform and you genuinely wanted to offer to suck his dick. and even right now, with his too-tight t-shirt and his frustrated face, you want to ask him to take his frustration out on you... in- in a hot way. you may have gone a little far with that one-

"would you stop looking at me like that?" he snips, eyes darting over your whole face and then your body like he's looking for the off switch. you frown up at where he stands.

"like what? i'm just in disbelief."

he rolls his eyes. "like you're gonna tackle me. it's weird, after what i just told you."

"well, maybe i do want to tackle you." oh shit, that was supposed to stay in your head! quick, make it look like it was on purpose! "the buzzcut doesn't make you ugly."

his face screws up in confusion. "well, then, what does it make me?"

"hot."

you both kinda falter, like there's nowhere to go from here. his mouth gapes open and you watch his cheeks grow pinker, much similar to your own. and since you've already dug the hole and he doesn't seem too bothered, you make it an inch or two deeper.

"you're pretty hot, stiles. i mean, you hang around scott and stay in your room, so it's not like you're around enough girls for them to tell you. and you never ask me, so... that's probably why you're unaware."

he gapes at you, a hand going to his hair like it has a whole new purpose to him. "i didn't know asking you was an option...."

"apparently it is." you shrug. your oversized t-shirt and shorts suddenly seem not pretty enough for where this conversation seems to be going, but it's too late to linger on that thought now. anyway, his eyes are on you like sniper lasers... or something... and he takes another step closer to you.

"okay, um... i'm asking you."

you raise your eyebrows. what, he just wants you to lament on how sexy he is? you're not that easy, he's probably going to use that information to chase the skirts of some long, skinny-legged girl at school. besides, there's not even that much to-

"please." he hums.

you swallow, turning your face away from him. "okay, well, you've got the whole secretly smart guy thing going on. and your nose is really nice. mix that with the way your eyes are...-"

"my eyes are what?"

you glance up to glare at his impatience. he tilts his head at you, and you swear you can see a mischievous glint in those stupid, stupid (aggravatingly sexy) eyes. bastard.

"they're, um, provocative. when you're frustrated. or focused." you turn your eyes awayyyy from his reaction, for your own safety. "and your jaw is nice, so. plus your hands-"

"my hands?"

"are you gonna keep interrupting me? 'cause i'll stop." you gripe up at him, but looking back up was a big mistake. his cheeks are tinted pink but his mouth is quirked up into a knowing little smirk, like your embarrassment is suddenly clay for him to play with. yeah, no. you are not getting stuck in this position with stiles. "okay, yeah, that's enough."

"no, nonononono wait." he crosses the rest of the distance to crouch in front of the bed, looking up at you. "i'm sorry. i'm just not used to this. or you, like this." his hand rests atop your knee. "i won't even react. keep going, just a bit?"

you pout and look at his hand as his thumb rubs back and forth on your bare skin. it's warm and relaxing and makes your whole body burn hot when his hand inches up your thigh just barely. you look back up at him, but his face is earnest, promising. you sigh.

"your buzzcut makes you look good."

his eyebrows inch up his forehead.

"really good."

stiles grins.

☆

you're not really sure if you left stiles' house or escaped it, after that. all you know is that last night did some serious damage to your ego... and some serious maintenance to his. as you leave school, your mind replays the series of events and the blush that has been plaguing your cheeks and making you overheat returns.

dammit! you had to avoid stiles all day because of this stupid embarrassment. which proved difficult, since you guys had plenty of classes together and ate lunch with each other every day since forever. you slap your cheeks as you shoulder your way past the school doors and into the parking lot, glancing over at the field where lacrosse practice is in full swing.

your eyes catch on something odd, and coach's voice fades into the background when the image registers in your mind. stiles is leaning on the fence with his helmet in hand, sweat making his skin glow and a cocky look on his face. he's leaned over the fence, chatting up three soccer girls, who all seem very interested in whatever he's saying.

this, unfortunately, does not make you happy. but alas, what are you going to do? pull him away by the ear and chastise him for... talking to girls? you just wish you hadn't said anything about his stupid buzzcut (which looks unrealistically good with his lacrosse uniform).

all three of the girls throw their heads back laughing. and it's not even, like, pretty girl flirtatious laughter. it's loud, and one of the girls slaps her friend's arm. you want to rip the arm off.

but you keep walking instead, because you decided the bus was too much and walking home was the best option. better than standing in the parking lot, staring like a creep as your best friend (who you want to messy-make-out with) finally gets girls (who you want dead).

this is going to be a pathetic walk home.

you barely get to the end of the parking lot when you hear stiles shout your name as loud as he can.

part of you wants to stomp your feet and cry, or ignore him (as if the echo didn't reverberate off of the school building), or flip him off. like a middle schooler. because right now, you don't want to deal with the humiliation of telling stiles (through mumbles and attitude) how hot he is and how badly you want him to fuck you into his mattress, only for him to use you as matchmaker for hotter, more experienced girls.

but you're not a child, and he's still your best friend. plus, his lacrosse uniform.... yum.

jesus christ, you need a drink. there is no way that thought just consciously happened.

you drag your feet walking back, and the soccer girls skip off with their ponytails swinging. stiles is smiling all big and bright when you finally reach him. you are not smiling at all. "you needed me?"

"yeah, i wanted to know if you were coming over tonight." he stands taller than you, and his buzzcut looks so touchable right now, you want to bend him down to your level and run your fingers through it. you blink up at him as you stare, and the silence stretches. his hand comes up to the back of his neck. "uhh, just 'cause i could help you with the homework we skipped yesterday-" he interrupts himself. "are you okay?"

"i'm fine. for both. the homework and the question." you press your thumb into your palm and turn towards the lacrosse field, away from his searching eyes and worried lips. "see you tomorrow, yeah?"

you start to back away from him when he steps forward, the fence catching him from coming closer to you. "well i just- you should come over. i want you to."

"stiles, i can't wait for lacrosse practice to end-"

"i'll skip. they don't even need me." he clenches his jaw when you look back at him. there's a determination in his eyes you've never seen directed at you, and it makes your stomach flip. you've never fell victim to being his prey before, when he wants something so he gets it. the feeling is unrivaled. his lips part. "please."

you can feel your cheeks flush. why does that always have to work on you?

"okay, alright, no need to beg." you nod your head to his jeep, on the far side of the parking lot. "let's go."

he does a subtle fist pump that he doesn't think you see, and hops the fence to follow you, leaving literally everything in the locker room except his car keys. "how was your day?"

you glance up at him, but only for a second when you see how he's staring. all curious and excited, probably from the attention he was getting from those soccer girls. your lips press together in distaste before you even realize.

"it was fine." you shrug, watching as he gets ahead of you to open the passenger door. "got an A on mrs. martin's project."

stiles hums in approval, which may or may not make your lower stomach fizz with butterflies. then he closes your door and makes the short jog to his side, clambering inside. "good job. you hungry?"

you shake your head as he pulls out of the parking lot, doing your best to ignore the vein in his neck when he looks over his shoulder as he backs out, hand resting on your seat. yeah, you totally don't notice that. "no thanks, i'm okay."

"are you sure? i didn't see you at lunch. or english. or-"

"i wasn't feeling well today."

this shuts him up, but not in a good way. you feel his eyes on you, even as he drives, and it makes you squirm a bit. but he doesn't comment on your icy tone, and you drive the rest of the way in silence.

☆

in fact, you're silent all the way up to his room, where you toss your bag in the corner and toe your shoes off. stiles huffs out a sigh and scrubs over his buzzcut self-consciously, tracking you with his eyes as you trail aimlessly around his room and admire the things on his walls.

he's been dying to ask it. he has to. the girls on the soccer team said... he squeezes his eyes shut while you're turned away, repeating what they said to him in his head for nth time. just be honest, and confident. that's what you'd want.

stiles takes bold strides across the room right up to you. he gives you enough room to turn around and face him, but not much more.

"hey."

you scrunch your face up just a bit in confusion. "...hi?"

he clears his throat, his jaw flexing on it's own accord. "the...- okay, when you said my buzzcut makes me look really good-"

"stiles," you scoff and push past him, walking to the middle of his room as a means of escape. "i'm not doing this with you."

"no, wait, doing what?" he scurries around you to face you again, holding you lightly by the shoulders. "waitwaitwait. you gotta let me-"

"no. stop." you're embarrassed, he can tell now. the way you turn your face away and narrow your brow, he never knew he'd be able to read you so well. but he's doing it now, and he's not happy with what he's seeing.

"no, you stop. let me ask you what i want to ask, alright?" he huffs through his nose, and watches as you seem to come to attention. it gives him an odd thrill to see you react so readily when he corrects you. "are you gonna listen to me?"

you glare up at him for a second too long before nodding slowly. he nods too, and in a impatient, annoyed tone, he grumbles: "good."

and then stiles watches your eyes flicker as you fluster much more than he expected. he didn't think much of the words when he was saying them, but here you both are, weirdly into it. he blinks hard to clear his head.

"when you said my buzzcut makes me look 'really good'," he repeats, "did you mean really good to you or to other people?"

he feels you shift your weight by the movement of your shoulders. looking away, you hum, "i don't understand why this is important to you."

stiles narrows his eyes. "yes you do. you know you're into me and you just wont say it."

you snap your eyes to his and take a challenging step forward. "who said i'm into you? just because i said you're good looking doesn't mean you get to use me as some matchmaking machine. i won't inflate your ego just so you can hook up with popular girls, stiles. you can't-"

"i'm not asking so you can inflate my ego." stiles takes a step towards you, making you step back. "i'm asking because i want to know if you were serious." another step. "because i want you to think that about me." another step, and your back hits the wall.

you watch, doe eyed, as stiles brings a hand up to push some of your hair away from your face. his eyes meet yours, but dip down when your lips part. he swallows.

"so," stiles hums, towering over you. "were you being serious?"

stiles watches in awe as your pretty mouth forms around his new favorite word.

"yes."

he half expects himself to tear both of your clothes off and go wild. but his body moves on its own accord; taking your face gently in his hands, kissing you like you're made of glass. when you reciprocate eagerly, he feels his pants start to strain. fuck. seriously? can you please pretend you've had at least some action before?

he can't believe he has to talk his dick down when he's kissing you.

pressing you back up against his bedroom wall, he feels goosebumps rise as your nails rake lightly over his buzz, and it makes him hum. stiles gently removes one hand from the curve of your jaw and slides it onto your hip instead. he loves your hips. he loves them even more when his hands are on them, apparently, because the feeling of it is otherworldly.

what's even better, though, is when your tongue collides with his and you let out a small noise. it's high-pitched and whiney, and it almost makes him finish prematurely. he licks eagerly into your mouth to try and draw it out of you again, but you seem to silence yourself from embarrassment. this does not fly with stiles. his knee draws forward and splits your thighs apart, resting in between them, and he moves down to kiss at your neck. he'll make you whine again, he's sure of it.

"wait," you breathe out. he almost doesn't catch it, too busy with the way your skin feel on his lips and how he has you up against his wall, breathless and pliant. but he pulls back (albeit reluctantly) and meets your dazed look with one of his own.

"what? is this okay? do you wanna stop?" he might actually die on the spot if you want to stop. but he'd do it, for you. his hand massages your hip where he's got you gently pinned, and he watches as it visibly makes you sway (swoon, but you'd never admit that).

"no, no. but, your dad-"

"he's out."

"he could get home anytime."

"we can be quick. we don't have to do anything more than this right now."

"stiles," you're laughing at him. it's airy, and mostly just a teasing smile, but you're still laughing at him. "are you just saying that to get me in your bed? i mean..."

your thigh, which is in between his because of his being in between yours, slides up and presses lightly against his hard-on. his jaw goes slack as the unexpected pressure washes pleasure all over his nerves, and his shoulders bend over for a moment as his hips react on their own. he stops himself, thoroughly embarrassed, and glares at you. you giggle behind your hand, raising an eyebrow. "how're you gonna say you don't want anything below the collar with that going on?"

he pushes your thigh away, shaking his head. "i never said i didn't want anything more, i said we don't have to do anything more. plus, you're the one making the noises and touching me and... so, if anything, this isn't even my fault." stiles gestures vaguely to his dick.

"i'm flattered." you deadpan, before your hand trails from his chest to his stomach. he watches in awe, still half disbelieving that he got you here. you hook your fingers into his waistband and look up at him. "promise your dad wont walk in on us?"

"can you not talk about my dad while turning me on?" he groans, scrubbing a hand over his face. "swear on my life, you have nothing to worry about."

you nod and lean back against the wall, tugging him by his pants to meet you there. he follows suit, lining his body against yours as he kisses you, hands on your hips with yours running through his buzz. he captures your lower lip in his teeth and gently as he can, and you make another short, high-pitched noise again. his dick twitches in his pants.

"you wanna, um," you suck in a breath as he kisses your neck, "move to the bed?"

"yes," he sighs, and immediately pulls your hips forward and directs you to his bed. when you drop onto it and scoot back, stiles hesitates. your hair is a bit messy, lips are full, and your eyes have a glint in them he's never seen before. he's assaulted with the thought of you being his wife and having his kids and growing old and dying together, and then he blinks it away. jesus christ, you're a powerful woman.

he wants to do anything to make you look like this all the time. needy, pretty, all your insecurities and doubts kissed right off of your lips, even if it's just for a bit. is this what being horny is going to be like for him now? is he gonna be a sap when you want to fuck?

stiles crawls over you slowly, laying you back against his pillows. you're excited and it shows, and you're both smiling when he kisses you this time.

☆

he's a mess for days after, head full of the faces you make when he touches you just right, the noises coming from your mouth when you finish. the feeling of skin on skin, the picture perfect look of you wearing his shirt after. it takes scott about two and a half seconds to scrunch up his nose and make a disgusted face at stiles when he starts thinking it. your beauty is just seeping out of him, like he soaked you up and now every werewolf in a one hundred mile radius can smell the lovesick puppy on him.

you want to go on dates, too. real ones, all the time, and you think he's hot and cute and sometimes pretty, which is confusing to him but he likes it anyway. and he wants to save up his money so he can take you to a fancy restaurant. and he is so whipped.

which he's fine with. as long as it's for you. honestly, he's fine with almost anything, as long as it's for you.

☆

i didn't write smut and i apologize but my writing process is to blackout while my fingers fly across my keyboard like i'm a hacker spy until i come to and there's a story on the screen. so. smut didn't happen naturally so it ain't gonna happen at all, i guess. i dunno. ask writing star, not editing star. sorry i've been so absent, holidays is super busy with extended family and such. wish me luck. xoxo!!!

☆

BONUS!! stiles asks some poor soccer girls for help before you went to his house after lacrosse practice. the advice is... really somethin'.

"hey, um, lily?" he had to guess the name of the girl jogging past, but he got it right. she stopped and approached him skeptically, glancing at her two friends in front of her.

"yeah?" she threaded her fingers through the fence as he strided the rest of the distance to her. her two friends had begun making their way over as well. she had to squint past the sun as she stared at him. "what's up?"

"hi, hey, we have bio together. fourth period? i've sat behind you all sememster?"

her face showed no recognition.

"...anyway, i have a question. actually, i can ask all three of you. since you're, um, girls."

her two friends had approached at that point, and looked equally as put off by stiles as lily did. he cleared his throat and started on his ramble:

"so, let's say i'm best friends with this girl, and i like her. like, a lot. and she's kinda totally way out of my leauge, but we never talk about it because she doesn't see things like that anyway. and one day i get on a rant about girls and how confusing they are because, y'know," he gestured to his face like it was a tell of itself, "and she says that my biggest insecurity- err, physically- is actually really hot. and she says my hands are sexy. and my eyes are seductive. and she's like, kinda blushing a lot? but she blushes anyway about stuff around me so it doesn't really-"

"she likes you." one of lily's friends piped up behind her. "if that's what you're asking."

"are you sure? i'm not her type, plus-"

"dude," sighed the other one. the three girls shared a look, making stiles gulp. "girls don't call guys' hands sexy unless they're dying to have them in their mouth."

"mazie!" lily whirled around to slap her friend's shoulder, which did absolutely nothing to censor her. when she turned back to stiles, it was apologetically. "sorry, but she's got a point."

he slumped onto the fence in relief. "you think so? i want to put my hands in her mouth, if she's asking for that."

"nice." mazie nodded as the other two girls made noises of disgust. ignoring them, mazie continued. "honestly, she probably likes you but thinks you don't like her. especially if you're chatting up three soccer girls, looking like that."

the only girl stiles hadn't gotten the name of nodded solemly, and lily put her hands on her hips, determined. "okay, skinhead. how're you gonna confess?"

stiles smiles awkwardly. "uh, i'll just tell her when she comes over tonight?"

lily barked out a laugh, and her two friends followed suit. it was loud, like three crows making fun of him while they toss their heads back. it ended abruptly, too, and lily glared daggers at him in the silence. "no, idiot."

stiles whimpered a little "oh."

"girls love confidence." the unnamed girl declared, tilting her head. "when i flirt with girls i always make them like, say how hot i am. always gets them going."

"god," lily scrunched her nose, "are you both ovulating? we do not need to know all of that."

"so... what should i do?" stiles blinked at them, and they refocused their attention on him.

"be confident. be honest. that's always a rare, and hot, trait in a guy." lily said, before her eyes roved over him analytically. "anyway, you're attractive. it'll be fine."

"he's attractive?" the unnamed girl said, making all three of them laugh again. lily slapped her arm, and stiles let himself get distracted as his eye caught on someone walking across the parking lot.

oh, it's you.

his body feels a bit warmer, buzzing with nervous energy, as he shouts your name.

☆

[gyu-tori]

New Girl Next Door I '02 Line

⟢ Pairings: neighbors!02 liners x fem!reader ⟢ Genre: Fluff, Angst, Smut (mdni!!) ⟢ Warnings: mature content, explicit language and sexual content, emotional breakdown, multiple smut scenes, oral! (f! rec), p in v, unprotected!sex, protected!sex, creampie! (reader is on birth control but wasn't mentioned), Imk if i missed anything!

Summary: When you move into a quiet neighborhood for a fresh start, the last thing you expect is to live next door to three ridiculously attractive guys. What starts as neighborly banter turns into late-night confessions, stolen kisses, and a complicated tangle of feelings you can't outrun. In the end, which neighbor opens the heart of the new girl next door?

⟢ Word Count: 22.7k

The sun beats down on you as you stand on the sidewalk, the weight of the cardboard box in your arms growing more unbearable by the second. "Kitchen Stuff," it says in bold letters across the side, but right now, it feels more like an anchor than something useful. You try to hold it more comfortably by adjusting your grip, but it's impossible. You can't manage the size of the box by yourself, and the heat is making matters worse. The humid air pressing against your skin makes moving ten times more difficult.

You can't help but think back to why you're here in the first place. This is supposed to be a fresh start. Your first place. The beginning of something new, away from everything you used to know. But standing here, on the edge of this unfamiliar neighborhood, struggling with a box that you swear weighs more than it should, you can't help but feel a pang of uncertainty. A small part of you feels like you're leaving behind something you'll never be able to get back—familiar faces, the comfort of the past, the rhythm of your old life.

But then there's this, a blank slate, this house that smells of dust and potential, waiting for you to make it yours. It's a mix of excitement and fear of starting something that feels big and important but full of unknowns.

You take a deep breath, finally giving up on the box and shifting it to a new angle, but it doesn't get any easier. Just as you're about to make another attempt, a voice cuts through the air, catching your attention.

"Hey! Do you need a hand, or are you trying to fight gravity on your own?"

You blink, startled, and glance up, trying to make sense of the voice that seems to belong to a stranger standing across the street. You can barely make him out through the giant box in your arms, but you see enough: a guy with dark hair, an easy smile, and a casual stance.

You glance back at the door to your new place. You're so close, but this box is just too much. You can feel the sweat dripping down your neck, the heat threatening to overtake you, and something about the guy's voice makes you pause. Maybe it's just relief or a willingness to accept help, but you take a moment before answering.

"I've got it," you say, more out of habit than confidence. You try to shift the box again, but it only seems to get heavier.

He doesn't buy it, of course. "You sure about that? Looks like you're losing the battle to me."

You bite your lip, already feeling the awkwardness of the situation settling in. The guy's not wrong. And you're not sure why, but something in his tone makes you let go of the box just enough for him to swoop in and take it from you, lifting it without a second thought.

"You don't have to do that," you say quickly, but it's too late. Jake's already walking toward your front door.

"Don't worry about it," he calls back, glancing over his shoulder. "What's the point of neighbors if they can't help you carry heavy stuff?"

You can't help but stare after him momentarily, surprised by how easily he just took charge. And maybe, just maybe, the fact that he didn't hesitate to help makes you feel a little less alone in this sea of change.

As he heads toward your door, you hear the soft sound of footsteps from behind, and another voice cuts in, smoother and quieter than the first.

"Doesn't look like you're in control of that situation," says a taller guy with a more deliberate, calculated presence. His voice is calm and measured, and you can't help but feel the difference between him and the first guy. He seems… more reserved. You catch a quick glimpse of him this time—blond hair catching the sunlight, a sharp contrast to the other's dark hair—and it hits you how striking he looks in a quiet, unbothered way.

You look up, meeting his eyes briefly as he walks past, his hand reaching out to grab another box from you. It's a silent gesture, but there's something in the way he moves, so efficient and careful that you almost don't notice until it's too late.

"Thanks," you murmur, more to fill the space than anything else, and it almost feels normal for a moment. Like this could be the kind of neighborhood where people help each other out, where you're not alone in the chaos of moving.

You're about to say something more when you hear a soft chuckle behind you. You turn to see a third guy standing on the porch, leaning casually against the railing, earbuds in and one eyebrow raised in mild amusement.

"Who moves in during a heatwave?" he mutters under his breath, though it's loud enough for you to hear. He's smirking, clearly entertained by the whole scene.

You glance back at him, an eyebrow quirked. "It wasn't exactly my plan."

His lips curl slightly, but he doesn't say anything more, the corners of his eyes crinkling with quiet amusement as he watches the two guys carry your boxes inside.

The dark-haired one—the first to approach you—places the box down gently on your porch and wipes his hands on his shorts before flashing you another wide grin.

"I'm Jake, by the way," he says, sticking out his hand, casual and easygoing. "Welcome to the neighborhood."

You shake his hand, feeling the heat from both the sun and the moment.

The blond guy sets your second box down next to the first and straightens up, nodding slightly. "Jay," he says, his voice as clipped and efficient as his movements.

You nod, repeating their names under your breath to yourself—Jake and Jay. Easy enough.

Jake gestures toward the guy still lounging on the porch. "That grumpy one over there? That’s Sunghoon. Don’t mind the attitude—he's nicer than he looks."

Sunghoon, still smirking, pushes off the railing and gives a lazy little wave, clearly unbothered by the introduction.

"Nice to meet you," you offer, feeling a little out of breath—not just from the heat or the moving, but from the way all three of them seem so effortlessly alive, so rooted in this neighborhood you're only just stepping into.

Jake glances at your door as they finish up, then back at you. "Well, that's all of them. Not bad for a first day, right?"

You're still a little dazed from the whole experience, but you manage a small, tired smile. "Yeah, thanks. I wasn't exactly planning on getting a welcoming committee."

Jake grins, his easygoing nature infectious. "Hey, you don't get to choose your neighbors, but you can definitely make the most of it."

Jay, brushing his pale blond hair out of his eyes, quietly adds, "We've all been there. Moving's never easy."

And then there's Sunghoon, who, without a word, gives you a lazy smile from the porch as he slips his earbuds out. His gaze lingers for a moment before he turns to head back inside, leaving you standing in the doorway, feeling more exposed than you'd like.

Sure, They've helped you, but something in the air about their presence makes you feel like you're already tangled in their lives. And you're not sure if that's a good thing or not.

The quiet hum of your new house surrounds you as you close the door behind you, the weight of the box long gone. But the weight of everything else—the newness, the uncertainty, the fact that you're not entirely sure what's next—settles into your chest.

It's a strange feeling. And you wonder if you'll ever get used to it.

Later at night, the house smells like cardboard and lemon-scented floor cleaner. Somewhere in the chaos, a candle burns on the kitchen counter—your half-hearted attempt at pretending this is home already. The living room is still a jungle of boxes, some half-unpacked, others just… there.

You're sitting cross-legged on the floor, wearing the same sweaty shirt from earlier, your hair tied up in a messy knot. A takeout container sits abandoned at your side, half-eaten. Your phone leans against a ceramic mug, propped up just enough for the screen to catch your face as it rings.

It connects after the third ring. Two familiar faces appear side by side—Taehyun and Hueningkai squished into the frame like some kind of chaotic commentary duo.

"Hey!" Kai chirps immediately, waving like it's been years. "You survived!"

Taehyun just stares at you. "You look like a raccoon that got hit by a moving truck."

You groan and flop backward against a pile of throw blankets. "Because I was hit. By heat. And gravity. And my own bad decisions."

"I told you to hire movers," Taehyun says, smug.

"I told you to marry rich," Kai adds, popping a gummy bear into his mouth.

"I hate both of you," you mutter, smiling despite yourself. "You'll never believe what happened though."

Kai leans closer to the camera. "Don't say you fell in love with your delivery guy. I've already written three fanfics about that scenario in my head."

"Worse," you deadpan. "There's a house across the street. With three guys. All stupidly attractive. All mysteriously helpful, well, two of them were."

That gets their attention. Taehyun raises a brow. "Define 'stupidly attractive.'"

"Like… if someone Photoshopped the members of a boy group into a lifestyle commercial about clean living and emotional repression."

Kai gasps. "You moved into a K-drama."

Taehyun smirks. "So which one's the tsundere? There's always one."

You glance at the ceiling. "His name's Sunghoon. He didn't even help me. Just made fun of me from the porch like some aloof anime rival."

Kai practically squeals. "I knew it. And the charming golden retriever type?"

"That's Jake. He carried the heaviest box like it was made of feathers. Told me gravity was optional."

"And the serious one with good hair?" Taehyun asks knowingly.

"Jay. Quiet. Blonde. Looks like he'd be the type that reads classic literature for fun and judges people for using too much seasoning. Wait, how the fuck are you describing them so accurately?"

Kai clutches his chest. "This has sitcom energy written all over it."

You laugh, rubbing at your face. "It was surreal. They introduced themselves like some unofficial welcome committee. Jake even carried boxes. Jay took one without asking. Sunghoon just… watched like he was grading the situation."

Taehyun tilts his head, a ghost of a smile on his face. "How are you feeling about all this?"

You fall silent for a second, picking at the edge of a moving label on the nearest box. "Weird. Everything's so new. The house doesn't feel like mine yet. I don't have anything figured out. But… when they helped me earlier? For a second, I didn't feel so alone."

Kai softens. "You're not. You've got us. And apparently, three hot neighbors who lift heavy things and emotionally confuse you."

"Don't trip and fall into one of them," Taehyun says, deadpan.

Kai wiggles his eyebrows. "Or do. It'd be iconic."

You smile, warm and tired. "Thanks for the chaos. Seriously."

"Anytime," they echo in unison.

You end the call eventually, but your heart feels a little lighter, your chest a little less heavy. Outside the window, the porch light across the street is still on. Someone walks by it, probably heading inside for the night. You don't know which one of them it was, but something about it feels oddly comforting.

You look around the mess of boxes, tape, and takeout containers. The place still doesn't feel like home. But maybe, just maybe, it's starting to. 

It's only been two days, but you've developed an instinct: anytime there's a knock on the door, brace for chaos.

You wipe your hands on your shorts—mid-unpacking again because somehow there are always more boxes—and shuffle over to the front door. The knock comes again. Three sharp raps. Light, but too coordinated to be a delivery guy.

You open the door. And there they are. Again.

Jake stands in the middle, wearing that same easy grin, holding a tin of cookies like a peace offering. Jay is beside him, arms crossed, his face unreadable but not unfriendly. Sunghoon is lingering slightly behind the other two, earbuds slung around his neck this time instead of buried in his ears. His hands are in his pockets, head tilted as if this whole situation mildly amuses him.

"Hi," Jake says brightly, as if this is normal. "We come bearing gifts."

You stare at the tin. Then at them. "Did you bake those yourselves or rob a bakery on the way here?"

Jake gasps—faux offense. "We slaved over a hot oven for... okay, no. We bought them."

You raise an eyebrow and reach out, flipping the tin. The price sticker is still on the bottom. "Huh. Team effort, huh?"

Jake shrugs with zero shame. "Jay drove, Sunghoon carried the bag, and I chose the cookies."

"I see we're operating on shared delusion," you mutter, but you're already stepping aside and holding the door open. "Fine. Come in. But if one of you eats all the Oreos from my pantry, I'm changing the Wi-Fi password you don't even have yet."

Jake's eyes light up. "You do have Oreos?"

Jay gives him a look. "Focus."

They file inside like they've done this before, scattering across your barely-arranged living room. You mentally brace yourself for judgment, but to your surprise, none comes.

Jake plops onto the floor and opens the cookie tin like it's sacred. "So, how's it going? Still finding mystery boxes labeled 'can be kitchen or bedroom'?"

You gesture vaguely to a corner filled with mismatched mugs, cleaning supplies, and a random lava lamp. "I've made peace with being a functional disaster."

"Same," Jake says around a cookie. "That's why I bought a cactus. Low expectations."

You glance at Sunghoon. He's wandered over to your bookshelves, running a finger along the spines like he's trying to decode your personality through fiction.

He glances at you, then at a copy of The Picture of Dorian Gray. "Oscar Wilde and ramen. You're eclectic."

You cross your arms. "You say that like it's a warning."

Sunghoon smiles faintly. "Just an observation."

Jay, meanwhile, is looking at the thermostat. He points. "That dial's finicky. You'll need to jiggle it clockwise before it actually responds."

You blink. "Are you... giving me house maintenance advice?"

He shrugs. "Better than waiting for it to freeze you out. The water pressure in the upstairs bathroom sucks, too. You'll want to test the downstairs one first."

You study him. Jay doesn't talk much, but when he does, it's like he's already thought the whole thing through twice. There's a quiet kind of attentiveness to him you missed the first time.

"Noted," you murmur, and he nods once, then goes back to inspecting a sticky note on your fridge that says "Buy toilet paper" with the seriousness of someone solving a crime.

Jake's now halfway through the cookies. "You should join us for dinner sometime. Jay usually cooks. Sunghoon critiques it. I set the mood."

You squint. "Define 'set the mood.'"

"Playlist," Jake replies confidently. "Mostly 2000s boy bands. A little Mariah Carey."

Sunghoon raises an eyebrow. "You put Pitbull on the last playlist."

"I stand by that."

You shake your head, already regretting asking. But your smile won't go away. It's strange—how easily they occupy a space. You haven't figured out how they feel less like strangers and more like a sitcom cast yet.

Eventually, the cookies are reduced to crumbs, and the boys stand to leave.

Jay's the first to step out, nodding at you like a quiet promise. "Text me if you can't get the thermostat to work. I can walk you through it."

Jake points finger guns on the way out. "Welcome to the neighborhood."

Sunghoon's the last to leave, pausing in your doorway. "If you ever need silence, our rooftop is quiet around 11 p.m."

You blink. "That... was surprisingly thoughtful."

He shrugs one shoulder. "Don't read into it."

Then they're gone. The door clicks shut behind them, and your living room feels a little too quiet.

You stare down at the half-empty tin and snort softly. Store-bought cookies and three very different kinds of neighborly chaos. This whole street might be a fever dream.

Still... you're not complaining.

The street is unusually tranquil tonight.

You hadn't planned on doing anything, really. Maybe finishing the ramen you half-cooked or finally tackling the hellscape that is your bedroom closet. But the trash bag sitting by the front door demanded attention, and now here you are—barefoot, in pajama pants and an old hoodie, holding a slightly torn bag of garbage while the summer night air presses against your skin like a damp towel.

You mutter to yourself as you struggle with the bin lid, fumbling in the dark. "Cool. Glamorous. Totally thriving."

Then, a voice floats from the left—low and amused.

"Hoodie and pajama pants combo. Brave."

You nearly jump out of your skin.

You turn your head sharply and spot him—Sunghoon—leaning against the short wooden fence that divides your yard from the sidewalk. He's in joggers and a fitted t-shirt, sweat darkening the neckline and clinging slightly to his collarbone. His hair's damp, sticking up in the wrong places. There's a sheen of sweat on his skin that catches the moonlight.

You narrow your eyes. "You always sneak up on women taking out the trash?"

He lifts a shoulder in a slow shrug. "Just finished a run. Didn't think I'd interrupt a dramatic garbage disposal."

You roll your eyes, but your mouth twitches. "Are you mocking me or flirting with me? I need to know what I'm working with."

He lets out a quiet laugh. It's short but real.

"I don't flirt in pajama pants hour," he says, adding, "But if I were, I'd at least bring coffee."

You cross your arms, stepping closer to the fence. "Is that your way of saying I should step up my late-night attire game?"

"I mean," he muses, "you did match the hoodie and pants. That's effort." You smile despite yourself. It's the kind of smile that sneaks up on you—gentle, unforced.

There's a long pause. Not uncomfortable, just… quiet. You both linger there, separated only by a few wooden boards and the rare stillness in this city. The kind that hums beneath your skin.

He glances up at the sky. "You can't see much here. Too much light pollution. No real stars."

You follow his gaze. "They're still there. Just hiding."

Another silence. A softer one.

"I like this time of night," he says eventually. "It feels like the world stops pretending."

You blink, surprised at its rawness. "What do you mean?"

He chews on the inside of his cheek. "People don't perform as much at night. It's too quiet to pretend you're fine all the time."

You watch him for a beat, the way his profile softens in the streetlight's glow. Something about it—him—feels real in a way you didn't expect. Not right away.

You toe at the grass under your foot. "Do you always get philosophical after cardio?"

He grins. "Only when the moon's judgmental."

Another pause. You glance toward your house. The light from your living room spills into the yard, casting a warm haze over the porch. Your half-unpacked boxes are still stacked by the entryway. Inside, it feels like chaos. But here? Out here with him? It feels like the eye of the storm.

You lean on the fence a little. "I think I like this time too."

He nods, slow and deliberate. "You can come out here sometimes. If you need quiet."

You tilt your head. "Is this an invitation?"

His eyes flick to yours, something unreadable in them. "It's not a rejection."

That leaves you quiet.

He pushes off the fence after a beat, stretching his arms behind his back. "Anyway. Try not to get eaten by raccoons out here."

"Noted."

"Night, pajama girl."

"Night, cardio boy."

He disappears into his side of the house, and you're left in the quiet again—but it feels different this time.

Fuller. Warmer.

It started small.

One Saturday, Jake stood on your porch wearing sunglasses and an alarming amount of enthusiasm, shaking a to-go coffee at you like a bribe.

"You have to experience the only good brunch spot in this hellhole," he declared as if it was a moral obligation. "It's part of your initiation."

You had still been in your pajama pants, hair half-tied up with a pen, clutching a list of chores you didn't actually want to do. And somehow, despite every intention of saying no, you ended up shoved into the backseat of Jake's car between a box of reusable shopping bags and a stray soccer ball.

Jay was already there when you arrived—leaning against the café's outdoor railing, stirring a coffee with slow, deliberate movements. He barely glanced up as you approached, just giving a slight chin tilt that said both hey and you're late at the same time.

Sunghoon arrived five minutes later, sliding into the seat across from you with his hoodie pulled over his head. His sunglasses covered half his face as if he were recovering from a hangover.

"Is he okay?" you asked, a little concerned.

Jake just laughed. "This is his okay."

Sunghoon flicked a piece of toast at Jake without a word.

You learned quickly that mornings with them had their own rhythm: Jay always ordered something complicated with substitutions, Sunghoon barely ate but stole bites from other people's plates, and Jake talked enough for all three of them combined.

You just tried to survive it.

From there, the Saturdays started piling up.

Somehow, without asking permission, they became part of your calendar.

Not an obligation. Not even a real plan. Just... expected.

You ended up at the local flea market one morning, supposedly "just browsing."

Jake, predictably, lost focus immediately.

You found him twenty minutes later trying to convince a vendor to sell him a neon lava lamp for half price.

"It's vintage," Jake argued, clutching it like a trophy.

The vendor, a stone-faced woman in her seventies, was unmoved. "It's tacky."

Jay, appearing behind you with a basket of vinyl records tucked under his arm, deadpanned, "So is he. Let him have it."

Jake beamed at the accidental endorsement.

Meanwhile, Sunghoon had vanished somewhere near the food stands. You spotted him across the way, balancing two cups of iced coffee precariously in one hand while texting with the other. He noticed you looking and offered the tiniest shrug that somehow said, What? I'm a multitasker.

You shook your head, laughing under your breath.

When he finally made it back, he set a cup in front of you without comment—exactly how you liked it. No sugar, extra ice. You blinked, surprised he remembered.

He didn't say anything. He just nudged it toward you casually, like it was no big deal.

Your heart did a weird little somersault.

You told yourself it was just the caffeine kicking in.

Later that afternoon, it was the plant shop.

You wandered between the rows of succulents and spider plants while Jake trailed dramatically behind you, narrating like a nature documentary.

"Observe the wild Y/N in her natural habitat," he whispered loudly. "Drawn instinctively to small, low-commitment life forms."

You smacked him with a fern.

Jay stood by the pots section, analyzing the designs as if they were ancient artifacts. You watched him turn a terracotta pot over in his hands, checking the drainage holes with an almost surgical focus.

"You're taking this very seriously," you said, amused.

Jay glanced at you, one eyebrow raised. "Bad drainage kills the roots. You can't half-ass the foundation."

You stared at him for a beat longer than necessary. Something about how he said it was sticking to your ribs. It's not just about plants, maybe. About everything.

Sunghoon, for his part, picked the most miniature succulent he could find—a tiny thing barely bigger than his thumb—and declared it was "enough commitment for now."

You arched an eyebrow. "Afraid of responsibility?"

He smirked, spinning the pot once between his fingers. "Afraid of overwatering."

You didn't know what to say to that, exactly. It felt like it meant something more.

Maybe everything did with him.

Maybe with all of them.

You ended the afternoon with a pile of plants, an overpriced lava lamp, and a half-melted ice cream cone because Jake insisted that no weekend adventure was complete without dessert.

Back at your house, you all lounged on your front porch, the sun drifting below the rooftops, painting everything in soft gold.

Jay sat cross-legged on the steps, scrolling idly on his phone.

Sunghoon leaned back against the railing, eyes half-closed, humming quietly under his breath.

Jake sprawled across two chairs like he owned the place, tossing pebbles at an invisible target.

You watched them—these three chaotic, complicated, impossible boys—and for the first time in a long time, you felt it.

That tentative thing in your chest.

Like maybe...

Maybe you were allowed to belong somewhere again.

Maybe you didn’t have to keep looking over your shoulder, wondering when you’d have to leave.

The thought scared you a little.

But it also made you smile.

You were halfway through a very glamorous evening of folding laundry and pretending to organize your books when you heard it — three quick raps against the wood, familiar now in a way that made your heart stutter for reasons you refused to unpack.

When you opened the door, Jake stood there, a sheepish grin on his face and his hands stuffed into the pockets of his hoodie.

"Hey. So, um—" He glanced back over his shoulder like he was checking to ensure no one was watching. "Jay's making dinner tonight. Actual dinner, not just ramen and regret."

You smiled. "Sounds fancy."

He laughed. "Yeah, well. He got a new recipe from some cooking show, and Sunghoon dared him to try it. This means it's either going to be amazing or we're all going to die dramatically. Wanna come?"

There it was again—that warm, fuzzy feeling in your chest.

"Sure," you said, sounding casual like your brain wasn't already spiraling into what-the-hell-do-I-wear mode.

Jake's whole face lit up. "Awesome. Come hungry. And maybe bring a fire extinguisher. Just in case."

You laughed as he backed down the porch steps, throwing you a wink before jogging across the street.

The moment the door shut, you practically sprinted for your phone.

You flopped onto your bed, FaceTiming Taehyun and Kai, who answered almost immediately.

"What's up, new girl?" Taehyun said, lounging sideways across his couch like a cat.

Kai leaned over his shoulder, grinning. "You look stressed. Bad date? Broken appliance? Existential dread?"

You huffed. "Worse. Dinner invite."

They stared at you.

"You're gonna have to be much more specific, with which one?" Taehyun said.

"With all three of them," you clarified, feeling your face heat. "Tonight. Like—an actual dinner. Jay's cooking."

Taehyun immediately sat up. "Oh my god."

Kai let out a low whistle. "It's happening. She's starting a harem."

You scowled. "Nothing is happening. It's just dinner."

They exchanged the most irritatingly synchronized look you'd ever seen.

"Right," Taehyun said, dragging the word out. "Just dinner with three hot boys who you happen to banter with every day and who happen to look at you like you're the only person on Earth sometimes."

Kai nodded solemnly. "Totally normal. No notes."

You threw a pillow at the screen. "Help me pick an outfit or I'm ending the call."

That got them moving.

Taehyun instructed you to hold up options one by one while he gave devastating critiques, and Kai kept interjecting with commentary like "That top says 'I could fall in love with you by accident,' but the jeans say 'don't talk to me before coffee.'"

Ultimately, you settled on something simple: a soft sweater that made your eyes pop, your favorite jeans, and a necklace you always wore when you needed extra courage.

Not too much. Not too little.

Just... safe.

"You're gonna kill them," Kai said, popping a gummy bear into his mouth.

Taehyun pointed at you through the screen. "Remember, confidence. And if Jay burns the food, pretend to faint from hunger. Drama earns points."

You laughed, feeling the nervous energy settle just a little. "Thanks, guys."

"Anytime," they chorused.

You hung up, checked yourself once in the mirror, and tried to pretend it was no big deal.

You were just going to dinner with your neighbors.

Just dinner.

With 3 absolutely hot neighbors...

The sun had just started dipping by the time you crossed the street.

When you walked in, the dining table was already set—not just a "grab a fork and sit down" set. It had actual placements, folded napkins, and a tiny glass vase in the center with a few delicate white flowers. The soft glow from the warm ceiling light made everything look golden—inviting, even.

"You guys... went full Pinterest," you said, a little stunned.

"Jake," Jay replied dryly from the kitchen without turning around, "raided the neighbor's garden."

"Borrowed," Jake corrected, popping up beside you with a grin. "With an intense respect for nature. And a pair of scissors."

Sunghoon, already sitting with one leg tucked under the other, lifted his water glass. "He asked for help holding the flowers and then nearly cut my thumb off."

You smiled, your nervousness softening under their easy banter. "I feel like I've walked into a dinner party for a queen."

"You're not wrong," Sunghoon said, lips twitching.

Jay emerged from the kitchen carrying a large pan of steaming, delicious-smelling food and placed it in the middle of the table like it was sacred.

"Okay," he said, wiping his hands on a towel, "tonight's main course: soy-garlic glazed chicken thighs with roasted sesame vegetables and rice. Do not insult it. I've already questioned my life choices enough to make it."

You blinked.

Jake leaned in, whispering, "He's been watching that Michelin chef series. Every time they yell at someone, he takes it personally."

Jay rolled his eyes, but the corner of his mouth twitched.

Sunghoon was already spooning rice onto his plate with the same seriousness people reserved for surgery.

You sat carefully, letting the moment wash over you—the warm clatter of dishes, the murmur of overlapping voices, the smell of garlic and soy and something subtly sweet.

The food was really good.

"You weren't kidding," you said around a bite of perfectly cooked chicken. "This tastes like you robbed a restaurant."

"That's the only kind of crime I condone," Jake said, pouring you a drink. "Well, that and the emotional kind."

Jay gave him a warning glance. "Don't start."

But Jake already had.

"Oh, did you know," he said, resting his chin in his palm like he was about to share state secrets, "that Jay once tried to make gnocchi from scratch and cried when it turned out grey?"

"It was supposed to be beetroot pink," Jay muttered, scowling at his plate.

"Color doesn't change flavor," Sunghoon added, deadpan. "But his soul was crushed."

"Can't believe you're doing this in front of our guest," Jay muttered, but he didn't really seem mad. His voice was warmer than before. Less guarded. They kept roasting each other, telling half-stories that trailed off in laughter. You listened more than you talked at first, taking in how different they were yet somehow perfectly chaotic. 

Jake was the loudest. He always leaned forward, gesturing with a fork and tossing his head back when he laughed.

Sunghoon didn't talk as much, but every time he did, it was to deliver a dry, perfectly timed punchline that had everyone howling.

And Jay... Jay was precise. Quiet, but not cold. The kind of person who only spoke when he had something worth saying—or when he wanted to cut through the noise with something disarmingly honest.

"So," Jake turned to you, mid-meal, "what's your go-to comfort meal?"

You blinked. "Like... childhood favorite? Or post-breakup survival?"

"Both," he grinned.

"Mac and cheese for childhood. And pancakes for heartbreak," you answered.

Sunghoon nodded like that made complete sense. "Sweet over salty. Coping through carbs. Acceptable."

"What about you guys?" you asked, curious now.

Jay answered first, quietly. "My mom's doenjang-jjigae. It's the only thing I ever ask for when I visit."

Jake said, "Spam and rice with ketchup. It sounds cursed, but it hits."

Sunghoon shrugged. "Toast."

You looked at him. "Just... toast?"

He met your gaze evenly. "Emotional damage lowers the bar."

That made you laugh so hard that Jake nearly spit out his drink. Even Jay cracked a genuine smile.

You didn't remember the last time you laughed this much over dinner. The kind of laughter that makes your face ache in the best way.

Somewhere between second helpings and a debate about which anime protagonist would win in a street fight, you caught Jake watching you—not just glancing, watching. And when you looked back, he didn't flinch away.

Neither did you.

Jay noticed, too. You could feel it in the shift of the air.

You looked away.

You weren't ready to face whatever that was. Not yet.

Later, when dinner was over, and everyone was sinking into the couch with soft drinks and sleepy smiles, Jay quietly brought you a mug of hot tea without a word and handed you the blanket Sunghoon had kicked off.

You curled up under it, more aware than ever of how easily your life had started to rearrange itself.

You weren't sure what to do with that knowledge.

The laughter from the living room was light, the kind of easy noise that made you forget all about the stress of unpacking and moving in. You, Jake, and Sunghoon were sprawled out on the couch, half-watching a movie as you chatted about random things, their voices filling the room with comfortable noise. You hadn't even noticed how much time had passed since dinner. It felt like you were finally getting into a groove here, like maybe this whole moving thing wasn't so bad after all.

And then, there was a knock on the door.

It wasn't an urgent knock, just a soft tap, like whoever was on the other side wasn't entirely sure if they should be there. You thought nothing of it for a moment, too wrapped up in the conversation to even register it.

But then Jay, who had been lounging nearby, got up, his blonde hair messy but effortlessly styled as always, and strolled over to the door. You barely had time to process that someone was at the door before Jay opened it.

A man stood on the other side, his back mostly to you, his posture confident and sure, like he was someone who had every right to be here. He spoke first, his voice calm and polite. "Hey, uh... I'm looking for someone."

Jay raised an eyebrow, sizing him up for a moment. "Who are you looking for?"

The man didn't seem fazed by the question. Instead, he offered a small, polite smile before responding, "I heard someone named Y/N moved into the neighborhood recently. Do you know her?"

Jay hesitated momentarily, then gave the man a nod, still blocking the door slightly. "Yeah, she's inside. I'll let her know you're here."

Jay glanced over his shoulder, his voice casual but carrying an undercurrent of something more. "Y/N, someone's here to see you."

You froze mid-laugh, the words taking a moment to register. Your heart gave an unexpected lurch, the sound of your name hanging in the air like a strange omen. You weren't expecting anyone tonight. The weight of Jay's words and the way the room fell silent for just a moment caught you off guard. You stood up, your movements slower than usual, and instinctively turned to Jake and Sunghoon, who had gone quiet, too.

Jake shot you a quick look. "Who is it?"

You shrugged, unsure of how to respond. You weren't expecting visitors. At least, not like this.

Jay stepped aside when you reached the door, allowing you to face the visitor. The guy standing there still had his head looking down, but his posture, his clothes, and his neatness seemed so oddly familiar, like something that didn't belong here in this neighborhood. It made your chest tighten with some unexplainable feeling.

When he finally looked up to face you, everything seemed to freeze.

You immediately recognized him. The man standing there wasn't just any stranger. He was someone you'd known far too well. Your breath hitched, and your heart beat a little faster. It was a feeling you hadn't expected, not here, not now.

It was him.

"Hee?" you whispered, almost too softly for anyone else to hear, your voice catching in the air like it had been waiting for this moment to break free. It was the only thing you could think to say, but the realization hit you like a flood. Your heart stumbled in your chest, suddenly unsure how to process the situation.

He stood there for a split second longer, unsure how to answer you. And then, the same calm smile you remembered so well tugged at the corner of his mouth. His eyes softened, but there was an air of something complicated behind them.

"Yeah, it's me," he said quietly, almost sheepishly.

Jay glanced between the two of you, his eyes flickering with a flicker of something — maybe recognition, maybe just curiosity — before his voice cut through the air once again, sharp but almost forced in its neutrality.

"Do you two know each other?" Jay asked, his tone casual but with a layer of something underneath that you didn't quite catch.

You nodded, though your throat felt tight. "Yeah. We… we know each other," you said, the words coming out quieter than you intended. Your gaze flickered between Jay and the man in the doorway, and you felt the weight of the situation settle heavily on your shoulders.

"Right," Jay said, his gaze shifting back to you. The brief interaction between you and Heeseung hung in the air like something unspoken. You could feel the weight of his gaze, but you barely had time to register it before the man in front of you spoke again, his voice slightly more casual this time.

"I'm here for a work trip. I heard you moved into the area and thought I'd drop by," he said, his tone almost too calm, like he wasn't standing on the threshold of a past you'd both tried to move on from.

The air around you seemed to grow heavier like the past was reaching out to you. Heeseung's presence felt like something you hadn't prepared for, but there he was, looking like he hadn't aged a day since the last time you'd seen him.

Jay, ever the neutral one, gave a quick glance over his shoulder, his voice cutting through the silence. "Well, we're just hanging out. If you need something, I'm sure you can find it elsewhere in the neighborhood."

He wasn't being rude intentionally, but something in his tone made you think Jay was ready for this interaction to be over. He wasn't wrong. You weren't sure how to handle this, how to fit the person from your past into this new life that felt so different from everything that had come before.

For a moment, Heeseung hesitated, as if unsure of what to do next. He stood there for a second, his hands still tucked into his jacket pockets. He didn't push further, but the awkwardness was palpable. He didn't ask to come inside, and you didn't invite him in. He just lingered, standing on the threshold, his gaze never leaving you.

"Are you just visiting?" you asked, your voice too soft and unsure.

Heeseung nodded slowly. "Yeah. Just for a couple of days. It's for work, but I'll be here for a while."

You nodded back, unsure of what else to say. It didn't feel like he was here for some grand reunion, but it didn't feel like a simple neighborly visit either. The lingering question of why he'd chosen tonight—of all nights—to show up hit you like a quiet punch to the gut.

Jay, who had been watching quietly, seemed to sense your discomfort and stepped forward. He crossed his arms, blocking Heeseung from fully entering. His tone was calm but firm.

"Is that it?" Jay said, his voice low but pointed. "You can go now."

Heeseung didn't flinch. Instead, he glanced at Jay, confused but not deterred. "I'm not here to fight," Heeseung said, his eyes softening as he looked back at you. "I just... I wanted to talk. To explain things. We never really got closure, Y/N."

The request hung in the air, too heavy for you to ignore, but you didn't know what to say. Your mind was racing, trying to sort through the mess of emotions that had resurfaced. Before you could respond, Jake and Sunghoon, who had been lounging in the living room, finally noticed the shift and walked over, their expressions unreadable but attentive.

Jake was the first to speak, his tone casual, but the undercurrent of seriousness was unmistakable. "Not the right time, man," he said. "You should go."

Heeseung's eyes darted between the three of you, sensing the subtle but firm boundary you were all setting. He didn't back down immediately, though, his jaw tightening.

"Y/N, please," Heeseung pressed, his voice pleading now, the calmness starting to crack. "I've been thinking about everything. I know I messed up, but I... I want to try again. I just need you to listen—"

Seeing you back up unconsciously, Jay stepped forward without hesitation and raised his voice just enough to cut through the tension. "No. She doesn't need to listen to you. You've had your chance."

Sunghoon leaned in slightly, his voice dry but light. "Did you seriously think she'd be interested in a visit from you right now?" His eyes gleamed with mischief. "Not exactly the warmest welcome, huh?"

Heeseung looked at him, caught off guard by the casual comment, but before he could respond, Jake spoke up. "Who are you, even?" His tone was laced with a mix of curiosity and protectiveness.

Heeseung's eyes flickered between the three of them—Jake, Sunghoon, and Jay—his confusion mounting. "Who are these guys?" he asked, trying to make sense of the situation. "Why are they...?"

Jay didn't let him finish. He stepped forward briefly, placing a protective hand on your shoulder. "I'm her boyfriend," he said, his voice carrying a subtle yet undeniable firmness. "Can't I just hang out with my girl and my bros simultaneously without some sleazy ex disturbing us?"

The words hit Heeseung harder than expected. His face fell, a mix of hurt and frustration crossing his features, but Jay didn't give him a chance to respond.

Jay kept his gaze locked on Heeseung, not even blinking. "You need to leave," he said again, his tone now dangerously calm.

Heeseung's lips parted as if he was going to argue, but instead, he just sighed, his shoulders sagging. Without another word, he turned away, his footsteps retreating into the quiet night.

The door clicked shut with a finality that made you feel like you could finally breathe again.

There was silence for a few moments. You didn't know what to say, your mind still reeling from the confrontation. Jay moved away from the door, stepping back to stand beside you. He gave you a quiet glance but didn't press you for anything.

You exhaled, your body relaxing slightly as the tension began to dissolve. "I didn't... expect him to show up like that," you murmured, still shaken.

Sunghoon sighs lightly, crossing his arms with a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Yeah, you don't have to tell us anything, don't worry, and hey, who would've guessed Jay's got that boyfriend vibe down already?" He chuckled, clearly amused. 

Jake leaned back against the couch, arms crossed with an amused glint in his eyes. "Nah, Jay's too smooth for that. He just knew exactly how to handle it."

Jay shrugged, his usual calm composure in place. "I just don't want to see you get hurt, that's all. Wouldn't be a good 'boyfriend' if I didn't defend my girl, you know?" he said softly, his gaze meeting yours for a moment longer than necessary.

You rolled your eyes but couldn't suppress a smile. "You guys are ridiculous, you know that?" you muttered, though your voice held no real bite.

Sunghoon winked at you from the side. "We'll keep being ridiculous. You seem to like it, anyway."

You shook your head, the warmth of their teasing finally washing over you. "Yeah, I suppose," you said with a soft sigh. 

Jake nudged you with his elbow. "Just don't forget who's got your back, yeah?"

You glanced over at him, then at Sunghoon, who had a sly smile on his face. "I won't forget. Thanks, guys."

Jay raised an eyebrow, a playful glint in his eyes. "If I were you, I'd make sure Heeseung doesn't return. I'm not giving up this 'boyfriend' role anytime soon."

"Fake boyfriend, don't get too ahead of yourself there," Jake interjects, his tone hinting at something you can't really pinpoint.

You let out a small laugh, the absurdity of the situation finally hitting you. "You're all nuts," you said, but the fondness was evident in your voice.

Sunghoon leaned back, stretching his legs out. "I'm pretty sure we're not the only crazy ones in this room."

The rest of the night was easy and light, with the boys joking and talking. For the first time in a while, you felt like maybe things were starting to feel a little more normal.

The soft rays of the early morning sun filtered through the curtains, casting long shadows on the living room floor. You woke up slowly, the warmth of a blanket draped over you, the smell of something delicious filling the air.

You blinked, adjusting to the light. The couch was surprisingly comfortable, and you realized with a start that you had somehow ended up curled up on it. Your body was stiff from the position, but you didn't mind. The night had been an unexpected mix of awkwardness and something more, and you weren't sure if it was the exhaustion or the intimacy of the situation that made you feel so strangely content.

But what caught your attention first wasn't the gentle stirrings of the morning. It was the sound of someone humming softly in the kitchen, the soft clinking of pots and pans. You turned your head and spotted Jay in the kitchen, his back to you as he flipped something in a pan. The light from the windows caught in his hair, and you had to admit—he looked good in the morning light, effortlessly natural, like this was just another day.

You blinked again, still trying to shake off the sleep. The two others—Jake and Sunghoon—were still fast asleep on the couch beside you. 

You chuckled softly to yourself. "Well, that's one way to start the day."

Jay turned at the sound of your voice, giving you a smile that was a mix of surprise and something else you couldn't quite place. "Morning, sleepyhead. You slept well?"

You nodded, pulling yourself up into a sitting position. "Yeah, surprisingly. But I need to head back to my house and shower. I've got some chores to do and… I don't know, just need a fresh start to the day."

Jay chuckled, shaking his head. "Well, before you go, you've gotta eat something. I'm making breakfast. Don't leave on an empty stomach."

You hesitated, feeling a slight pang of guilt. "I should really head home, Jay. I can't stay."

"Come on, just a quick bite," he insisted, moving to plate a couple of eggs and toast. "You've been through a lot. Let me take care of you for today."

You gave in, your stomach grumbling at the smell of food. "Okay, fine. But just a little."

Jay smiled as if he'd won a small victory, placing the plate before you. As you sat down at the kitchen island, you couldn't help but notice how effortlessly he moved around the kitchen, the way he worked with a confidence that seemed so natural.

"You sure you don't need help with that?" you asked, eyeing the rest of the cooking.

"Nah, this is easy," he said, shrugging it off. "Besides, you just sit there and enjoy the food."

With that, you dug in. It felt nice to eat something that wasn't takeout or microwaved food, especially after everything that had happened. The simple comfort of a home-cooked meal made you feel grounded, even for a moment.

Jay watched you quietly for a second before his voice broke the silence again. "So, how are you holding up after last night?" he asked casually, though there was a hint of concern in his eyes.

You paused, swallowing your food before answering. "Honestly, I'm a little shaken. It was… unexpected. Heeseung showing up and everything. I wasn't ready for that."

Jay nodded, taking the seat beside you and setting his coffee down. "I get it. It wasn't easy for you. But you handled it well. I'm glad you didn't let him push you around."

You offered him a small smile, grateful for his support. "I don't think I could've if it weren't for you."

Jay waved it off, his usual confident demeanor slipping back in place. "It's no big deal. You know I've got your back, no matter what."

You finished your breakfast quietly, and the tension from the previous day slowly started to lift. As you got up to leave, you couldn't help but notice how Jake and Sunghoon were still fast asleep on the couch, tangled up in a rather ridiculous position. Ironically, Jake's arm was draped over Sunghoon, who had somehow ended up with his head on Jake's chest. They looked utterly oblivious to the world around them, peaceful in their shared slumber.

You chuckled softly to yourself. "They look ridiculous," you muttered under your breath, shaking your head at their unexpected closeness.

Jay raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. "You mean to tell me those two aren't a couple? They act like it."

"Definitely not," you said with a laugh, standing up from your seat. "But they seem pretty comfortable."

Jay shrugged, seemingly unbothered by their unusual position. "Whatever works for them. Alright, go on. I'll wake them up later."

You nodded, giving him a grateful smile. "Thanks, Jay. I appreciate it."

With a last glance at the boys, you made your way back to your house, the silence between you and Jay hanging in the air as he saw you out.

The morning light filtered through the trees as you walked back to your front door, and for the first time in days, you felt like things might be okay again.

The boys had done their best to distract you last night—keeping the mood light with inside jokes, teasing, and comfort in a way that only friends who felt like family could. But now, in the quiet of your own home, the buzzing noise in your head returned.

You needed to talk to someone who knew you. The one who had cried to the same two people through breakups, hangovers, panic attacks, and post-midterm breakdowns.

Taehyun and Kai were only a FaceTime away.

You hesitated at first, the weight of the call lingering in your thumb. What were you even going to say? "Hey, so my ex showed up, got wrecked by the new boys next door, and now I'm accidentally sort-of-fake-dating one of them?" It sounded absurd even in your head.

Still, you tapped the call button.

Within seconds, Taehyun's face popped onto the screen, his hair messily styled, the lighting behind him unmistakably warm and homey. He grinned like he'd been waiting for this call all day.

"Y/N!" he sang, dragging out your name with theatrical flair. "There she is. My emotionally unstable yet stunning bestie. What's going on? You look... tired. Did a raccoon break into your house? Or was it another boy this time?"

You rolled your eyes, a tired smile tugging at your lips. "You could say that," you murmured, settling back against the pillows. "Heeseung showed up."

Taehyun blinked. Then blinked again. "Heeseung as in your 'it's not you, it's my emotional immaturity' ex-boyfriend Heeseung?"

"That's the one."

Before he could respond, Kai appeared on screen too, plopping down dramatically beside Taehyun and stealing half the frame. "Wait. What? Heeseung? Like, showed up where? Your house? Your dreams? Or did he slither up through a sewer grate like the snake he is?"

You snorted, your fingers brushing your forehead. "At the boys' house. He came to their door asking for me. I don't even know how he found out I moved here."

Kai gave the camera an exaggerated squint. "Wait, wait. What boys? The hot ones you told us about?"

"Yes, those boys," you said, already regretting how many details you'd given them in past updates.

Taehyun leaned forward like he was watching a drama unfold in real-time. "Okay, okay, but what happened? You can't just drop a bomb and walk away. What did he say? What did you say?"

You hesitated, then let out a breath. "He wanted to talk. Said he missed me. Said he wanted to try again." You winced at the sound of it aloud. "I couldn't even get a word out before Jay stepped in."

Kai gasped with his whole chest. "Jay stepped in?"

You nodded, and your lips twitched at the memory. "Jay stepped in. He opened the door, didn't know who Heeseung was, but as soon as he realized he was asking for me, it was game over."

Taehyun narrowed his eyes. "Details. Don't skip. I want exactly what he said, including tone and any sassy eyebrow raises."

You burst into a laugh but relented. "He said, and I quote: 'I'm her boyfriend. Can't I just hang out with my girl and my bros simultaneously without some sleazy ex disturbing us?'"

Both boys screamed at the same time.

"OH MY GOD."

"HE DID NOT."

"That's so hot. I'm actually mad at you for living this rom-com instead of me," Kai was practically bouncing. "So wait. Heeseung just... believed him? And left?"

You nodded slowly. "Well, there was a lot of glaring, and Heeseung tried to argue. Like, 'Who even are you?' and Jay didn't back down. Jake and Sunghoon came out too. It was kind of intimidating."

"And you?" Kai asked, eyes softening a little. "What did you do?"

You shrugged, voice quieter. "Nothing. I just stood there. I couldn't speak. It all happened so fast. Jay... handled it."

There was a beat of silence. Then Taehyun's voice dropped, gentle. "How did it feel? Seeing Heeseung again?"

You bit your lip, unsure of the answer. "Like my past showed up uninvited. And suddenly, all the work I did to move on didn't feel real anymore."

Kai's teasing melted away as he leaned closer to the camera. "But you didn't let him back in. That's real. That's strength. Don't downplay that."

You swallowed, trying not to get choked up. "I just... I didn't expect Jay to do what he did. It was so fast. Like, suddenly, he was this—protective thing standing in front of me, and I didn't even ask for it."

"And you liked it," Taehyun said gently, not asking—knowing.

You looked away, then back. "Yeah. I did."

There was a silence. Then—

Kai smirked again. "So what you're telling us is... your hot neighbor fake-boyfriended your ex into running off into the night, and now you're feeling things."

Taehyun gasped. "Wait, you are! You're catching feelings! I knew it. You're soft for Blond Hero Boy."

You groaned, pulling a pillow over your face. "I am not! I'm just confused. Okay? He was being nice. People can just be nice sometimes!"

Taehyun snorted. "Jay doesn't seem like the 'just being nice' kind of guy. He seems like the 'I'm gonna mean what I say and say what I mean' kind."

Kai nodded sagely. "That's boyfriend behavior, Your Honor."

You sighed again, pushing the pillow aside. "Okay, so maybe there's something. But I'm not doing this again. I don't want to jump into anything. Not now."

"Then don't," Taehyun said simply. "But don't run from it either. If he's good to you—and I mean really good—then maybe let yourself feel it. Even a little."

Kai added, his voice softer than usual, "No pressure, Y/N. Just take your time. But we've seen you after Heeseung. You were a shell. And now... even when you're tired and shaken, you're glowing a little again."

That hit somewhere deep. You looked at your screen, at your two best friends staring back with nothing but love and belief in their eyes, and something loosened in your chest.

"Thanks, guys," you whispered. "I don't know what I'm doing, but... I'm glad I have you."

Taehyun grinned. "Always. You don't have to figure it all out tonight. Just don't shut us—or them—out."

"And tell Jay he's officially on our radar," Kai added. "He's earned one gold star. We'll be watching."

You laughed through the lump in your throat. "You're the worst."

"We're the best," they said in unison.

You sat there for a moment, hugging your knees to your chest, the emotions swirling but no longer drowning you. Maybe you were still lost. But you weren't alone.

And that counted for something.

As the call wound down, you were just about to press "end" when Taehyun's voice stopped you.

"Wait," he said suddenly, his tone a little different this time—softer, sharper. "Before you go."

You blinked. "...Yeah?"

He leaned in, elbows on what looked like the arm of his couch. His expression had changed—less playful now. More knowing. The kind of look you hated because it meant he was about to say something that would hit you right in the gut.

"You keep talking about Jay," Taehyun said slowly. "But you've also been talking about Jake. And Sunghoon. Like... a lot."

Kai sat up straighter beside him, his brows furrowed in the same curious way.

Taehyun tilted his head. "And it's the way you say their names. Like you don't even realize it. You're not just grateful they're nice, Y/N."

You hesitated. Your breath caught in your throat. You tried to scoff, to deflect like you always did—but nothing came out.

Kai blinked. "Wait—hold on. Oh my god." He leaned toward the screen. "You've got feelings. For all three of them?"

"Wh—No!" you said quickly, too quickly. "I mean—" You buried your face in your hands for a second, groaning. "Maybe. I don't know. I didn't mean to get attached. It just… happened."

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the call. Not awkward. Just real. Like they were letting your confession settle.

Taehyun's voice was quiet when he finally spoke again. "You got attached because they treat you like you matter. That's not a crime, Y/N."

You stared at him, blinking against the sting in your eyes.

Kai, ever the mood-breaker, piped up. "Unless you pick the wrong one. Then it's a whole Netflix documentary. 'Small Town Girl, Big Emotions, and the Love Pentagon- wait no- Square Nobody Asked For.'"

You burst into a laugh-sob, tossing a pillow at your phone screen. "Kai, please."

"No, no, seriously!" he grinned. "The true crime vibes. The scandal. The heartbreak. I'm already imagining the moody cover art."

"Let her breathe," Taehyun said, though he was smiling too. Then he looked at you again, his tone gentler. "It's okay to be confused, Y/N. You just got out of something heavy. You moved. Your whole life shifted. Of course, things are messy."

"And they're really good to you," Kai added softly. "That's gotta be confusing too. When you're used to... less."

Your throat tightened. You looked down at your hands. "I just... I don't want to hurt anyone. Or ruin something good before it even starts."

"You won't," Taehyun said. "Not if you're honest. And not if you keep listening to what you want instead of what you're scared of."

You exhaled slowly, like something you'd been holding in for days had finally cracked open.

"Thanks," you said after a beat. "For not laughing. Or making me feel worse."

"Are you kidding?" Kai said. "This is prime drama. I'm invested now. You better give us updates, or I'll report you for emotional withholding."

You couldn't help but smile. "Okay, okay. I will. Just… let me figure things out first."

Taehyun gave you a slight nod. "Take your time. But remember—you're allowed to want good things. Even if they scare you."

You groaned into your hands as they burst out laughing.

"Can I just live in denial for like... two more days?" you muttered.

"Absolutely not," Taehyun grinned. "But you can take your time. Just don't run from it."

Your chest tightened, but you managed a small smile. "Okay. Thanks. For real this time."

Taehyun winked. "Anytime, dummy."

You didn't see the boys that morning after you returned from your house—just a quick wave across the street, through the window when you noticed Jake cleaning their living room. The space was nice. You'd needed a moment to breathe, to let your conversation with Taehyun and Kai sink in without your thoughts getting swallowed by someone else's presence.

But by mid-afternoon, you found yourself hovering at your front door with no real excuse, sipping on an iced coffee that had already melted too much to taste good. The ache in your chest hadn't left, but it had shifted—less grief, more confusion. More… longing.

Your phone buzzed.

Jay: You alive over there? Jake says if you’re ghosting us he's throwing your feel better cupcakes in the trash.

You smiled a little, thumbs already moving.

You: Was planning to. But now I'll come over just to save the cupcakes.

A few seconds later, another text popped up.

Jay: Backyard. It's nice out. Jake's trying to work the grill, says he has to keep the Aussie in him by having shrimps on a barbie.

You chuckle, setting your phone down, and slipped on your sandals before heading next door.

You found Sunghoon first, sitting under the patio umbrella with headphones half-on, scrolling on his phone. He looked up as you approached, and for a second, his usual aloofness cracked into something soft.

"You came back," he said, setting his phone aside.

You shrugged, settling in the chair beside him. "Cupcakes were on the line. I couldn't let that kind of injustice happen."

He smiled faintly, eyes lingering on you a second longer than they needed to.

"They're actually kind of awful," he said. "Don't tell Jake."

You leaned in conspiratorially. "I'm telling him the second I see him."

There was a pause, comfortable but weighted in a way that made your heart flutter just slightly.

"You okay?" Sunghoon asked, voice lower now.

You nodded. "Getting there."

His eyes searched yours for a moment before he gave the slightest nod. "You don't have to pretend with us. You know that, right?"

You didn't respond, just gave him a tiny smile. But your chest squeezed a little tighter when he looked away—like he was trying not to say more.

When you went to the backyard, you could smell a faint… burnt smell.

Jake was by the grill, battling it like it owed him money. His tongue poked out slightly as he focused, a crease between his brows.

"Planning to burn the house down?" you called out.

Jake was startled, clutching his chest dramatically. "You can't just sneak up on a man like that, Y/N! I almost died."

You laughed and leaned on the counter beside him. He grinned, cheeks slightly pink.

"Seriously though, glad you're back," Jake said, more sincere now. "We missed you."

You smiled. "You saw me this morning."

"Yeah, but it's not the same. You didn't wake us up and say bye, plus it's boring without you." His words were light, teasing—but his eyes were sincere.

You tilted your head, touched by how easily Jake could make everything feel lighter. "Thanks, Jake. Really."

He offered you a crooked smile, bumping your shoulder playfully. "Anytime. I'm basically your emotional support golden retriever now."

You laughed, the sound easing some of the lingering tightness in your chest.

“Y/N!” You hear Jay call you as he lounges on his chair, sunglasses on.

Jake returns to batting the grill, "Go hang with Jay for a bit, don't leave your fake boyfriend hanging."

You leave him to battle it out with the grill and walk up to Jay. When he noticed you, he removed his sunglasses and patted the free chair beside him.

"Back from your dramatic self-imposed exile," he teased, his voice warm.

"I'm not that dramatic," you said, settling beside him.

Jay tilted his head thoughtfully. "You ghosted us for five hours and almost rejected my cooking. Kinda dramatic."

You narrowed your eyes playfully. "You practically forced me to eat."

He shrugged like it wasn't a big deal. "I figured you might not eat otherwise. It wasn't great, but the thought counts," Jay leaned back on his palms, watching you carefully. "Last night… I didn't mean to overstep. With the whole boyfriend thing."

You shook your head quickly. "No. You didn't. Actually… it helped."

Jay's gaze sharpened, almost unreadable. "Good. 'Cause I wasn't bluffing."

You blinked, heart catching.

"Protecting you?" he added easily, though his voice had a rougher edge to it now. "I meant that."

The space between you crackled, something fragile and electric.

You licked your lips, your voice smaller than you meant for it to be. "Thanks. For being there."

Jay looked away like it was too much to say more right now. "Always, Y/N."

The air hung heavier after that. Jake called from the grill, and Sunghoon pulled out a speaker to play music. The atmosphere returned to easy banter, but you could still feel the shift, as if an invisible string had tied itself between you and each of them.

You hadn't meant for this to happen.

You hadn't meant to start caring about all of them.

But you had.

And you didn't know what to do about it.

The night had wound down slowly after the backyard hangout, laughter trailing like a warm aftertaste. Jay had gone inside first, muttering about finishing laundry. Sunghoon had followed not long after, faking a dramatic yawn and saying something about beauty sleep.

Jake stayed.

You hadn't planned on walking home with him. You hadn't really planned on anything. But when he nudged your shoulder and said, "Let me walk you to your door," it felt too natural to say no.

The air was cooler now and quiet in the neighborhood. Your sandals clicked softly on the pavement, and the stars were clear—many more than you were used to seeing.

Jake glanced at you a few times, each followed by a quick glance forward again, like he was trying not to stare.

When you reached the little gate to your yard, you stopped. So did he. You turned to him. "Thanks for—"

"You make me feel like I'm in a constant rom-com," he interrupted, voice light but shaky around the edges. "The bad kind. The pining one."

You blinked. "Jake—"

"I mean it," he added, eyes locked on yours now. "You say something, laugh, or even just show up, and it messes with my whole day. In a good way. But also in a really confusing way because I don't know if I'm allowed to want this."

He exhaled, hands half-tucked into his hoodie. "But I do."

It was soft. Honest.

You stepped forward, heart thudding. "You're not the only one confused." Jake's hand brushed against yours like he wasn't sure if he should touch you. You took it.

The kiss was sudden but not rushed. It was warm and searching, the kind that felt like a question and a relief simultaneously. Jake kissed like someone who'd thought about it a lot. Like someone who wasn't sure he'd ever get to.

It deepened quickly—hesitant hands turning bolder, breaths coming quicker, your back bumping lightly against your front door as he murmured your name like a prayer.

Somewhere between lips and soft gasps, you led him inside.

You didn't talk much as you moved through your house. The silence was heavier than awkward—anticipation, nerves, and want all tangled together. His fingers trembled slightly when they brushed your arm. In your room, he paused.

Jake cupped your face, leaning in until his forehead rested against yours. "Tell me if I need to slow down," he whispered. "Or stop. I don't want this to be a mistake."

You looked up at him—Jake, who wore his heart so easily, who made you laugh when you didn't want to, who had just confessed in the softest way.

You kissed him shyly, lips pressed against his as he settled onto your bed, leaning back against the headboard. His hands found your hips and moved you to sit on top of him, soft lips hungry for more of your touch, and his mind went blank. Soon, soft kisses grew more eager as your touch consumed his thoughts. Your hands framed his face, and his wandering hands snuck under your sweater and felt along your spine before swiftly removing it.

Time seemed to blur as you continued kissing passionately, hands exploring but staying within comfortable boundaries. He didn't rush you, even as your effect on him was evident. Instead, he maintained a shared rhythm, making you feel cherished.

Eventually, the intensity of your kisses led you to pull back, your lips tender. His breathing was heavy, and his hair was disheveled. Your hands then moved down his front, taking off his jacket. Though you felt you were undressing him quickly, it wasn't fast enough for him. He turned you onto your back and swiftly pulled off his shirt. You then removed your bottoms, watching as he revealed his entire body.

You leaned back, supporting yourself with your hands, to meet his kiss. As your mouths met and tongues intertwined, his hands moved down your back, deftly unclipping your bra. A soft gasp escaped you, immediately captured by his kiss as he slid the straps off your shoulders, letting your bra fall away. You slowly sank back into the pillows as he trailed kisses down your neck, gently guiding you to lie entirely on your back.

He continued with wet kisses from your neck to your chest, his hands lightly tracing your ribs as you arched towards him, your breath coming in short gasps. A sigh escaped you at his tender touch, and he then cupped your breast, softly squeezing it before his lips found your hardening nipple.

"Is this good?" Jake murmured a hint of shyness in his voice, his tongue briefly touching your nipple as his thumb gently brushed over it, feeling it firm. You were almost speechless as he repeated the gesture a couple of times. You could barely form words to respond when he repeated the actions a few times. 

You let out a soft whine, shifting restlessly for more of his touch. He glanced up at you, his hair falling across his eyes, and playfully flicked his tongue against your nipple while his other hand caressed your other breast. Jake then continued his kisses down your stomach. With a slight, frustrated sound, he sat back, his gaze sweeping over your nearly bare body. He then lifted your legs onto his shoulders, sliding the last piece of clothing off you and tossing it onto the floor with the rest.

"Have you been hiding this gorgeous body from me?" Jake murmured, finally pulling down his pants and quickly taking off his briefs at the same time. He barely gave you a moment to take in his body, your eyes briefly drawn to his erection before he leaned in for another kiss. "If I had known your body was as beautiful as your face, I wouldn't have hesitated to tell you how I felt about you."

Clearly captivated by your chest, he returned to your breasts, hungrily latching onto a nipple, abandoning any further words as he immersed himself in your warmth. After you softly whined, he pulled back slightly and lifted your right leg, bending it towards your stomach, which further exposed your aroused state to his eager gaze. The glistening wetness of your folds caught his attention, making him run his tongue along his lower lip.

Jake's attention was entirely on your pussy, his finger tracing the center where your arousal had pooled. The slick fluid coated his finger and your clit. A moan escaped you at the touch, your jaw relaxing as he gripped your hips with his other hand, pressing you firmly against the bed. Ensuring you stayed put, he lowered himself, his face settling between your legs as he sought a taste.

His lips were gentle against you, his eyes fixed on your swollen folds as his tongue traced the pool of your arousal. He practically sucked for a taste, leaving soft, open-mouthed kisses on your center. You gripped the sheets tightly, your legs instinctively wanting to close, but his mouth followed your every movement.

Jake's breath hitched, though it seemed unimportant as he nipped and sucked at you, your clit rubbing against the tip of his nose. His focus was singular: your pleasure. He wanted to make you feel incredible, to erase thoughts of anyone else and fill your mind solely with him. Suddenly, his mouth closed over your stiffened clit, and he began to lick and suck, the wetness of your opening slicking his chin as he devoted himself to you.

You tasted incredibly sweet to him, driving him to the edge of his control as his erect cock moved restlessly against the bed. Your head was thrown back, lost in the sensations between your legs, your eyes glazed over as you moaned at the ceiling. Jake watched you surrender to his touch, his hand sliding along your body, feeling the deep breaths that hollowed your stomach as he cupped your breasts. His fingers were slick with your arousal, and he used them to coat your nipples, rubbing them as his mouth continued to pleasure you intimately.

You were consumed by the ecstasy of his mouth on you. You couldn't recall the last time someone had touched you like this, bringing you such pleasure. It certainly hadn't been with your ex, whom you'd stopped being intimate with long before the breakup, and even then, he never made you feel this way.

"Oh—" you moaned softly, your hands in his dark hair, gently holding him close. He remained silent, simply guiding you towards orgasm, feeling the tremors in your legs and the catch in your breath. Your clit pulsed in his mouth, and he soothed the intense sensation with tender lips and gentle lapping of his tongue as you descended from the peak of your pleasure.

"Condom?" you asked, playfully nipping his lower lip. He nodded, and you reached blindly for one in your nightstand drawer.

"Looks like you were prepared," he said, raising an eyebrow.

"You never know what could happen when you have hot men as your neighbors."

He watched as you slid the condom onto his fully erect member, which bounced slightly. He placed a hand at the base as you moved to straddle him. The expression on your face as you lowered yourself onto him was beautiful, and you exuded a confident eagerness that he hadn't seen before.

He resisted the urge to move, wanting this to be pleasurable for you as well and let you adjust. "Jake," you murmured, your hands flat on his chest, which accentuated your breasts. He carefully shifted his hips, pressing just a little deeper.

"That's it, baby," he breathed, watching your hair fall forward as you focused on his thrusts. You ground your hips against him, and he watched your body tremble with pleasure. The way you moved captivated him, and he couldn't help but lean up to kiss one of your breasts as you rode him for the first time.

He then groped your ass, spreading your cheeks and thrusting deeply as you threw your head back with a whimper. "Feels good," you sighed. You wrapped your arms around him, pressing him tightly against your chest as he bounced you, moaning against your nipples and leaving trails of saliva. His nails dug into your skin as he lifted your hips up and down on his cock.

He felt restricted, unable to move his hips as much as he desired. With a low grunt, he rolled you onto your back, your knees digging into the mattress as your legs wrapped around his waist. "Fuck, I can't," he muttered, perhaps meaning he couldn't hold back much longer.

You barely registered his words as Jake began to thrust deeply inside you, grinding his pelvis against yours with each powerful movement. A familiar wave of sensation tightened around his member as your body gripped him. He knew he wouldn't last much longer either.

"Gonna cum for me, baby?" he asked softly, kissing your jaw and holding your waist as he thrust deeply, feeling your nails dig into his back.

"Please," you begged, snuggling into his neck, and his chest tightened with desire. He put more force into his thrusts, bringing you and himself to the brink of climax. Your pleas were too enticing to ignore.

A wave of intense pleasure washed over you, your skin prickling with goosebumps as a shiver ran through you. He held you tightly as you moaned in euphoria, reaching another climax. Jake couldn't hold back any longer, and your legs wrapped around him gave him no choice but to drive the rest of his length into you until he came into the condom.

You lay together for a moment, his fingers gently combed through your hair, and you straightened your sore legs as he pulled out.

You remembered little else besides the growing drowsiness as he cleaned you up thoroughly. He then laid back in bed, pulling the covers over your naked body, and fell asleep with you in his arms.

The sunlight was creeping in through the edges of the curtains, soft and golden, warming the skin on your back. But inside, you were anything but warm.

Jake's arm was still resting loosely over your waist, but his breathing had shifted—less even, more aware. Still, you stayed still, pretending not to notice. Pretending the tangle of thoughts in your head wasn't growing louder with every passing second.

Last night shouldn't have happened. Or maybe it should have. Perhaps that was the problem—you didn't know anymore.

You bit down on your lip, trying not to overthink it, but of course, you were. How could you not? Because, yes, Jake had looked at you like you were the only person in the world. He'd kissed you like he meant it, held you like he wanted to stay. He was sweet, nervous, and kind in a way that made your heart ache.

But that ache wasn't just for him.

It throbbed a little when Jay hovered near you in the quiet when his voice dipped low and protective. It flickered when Sunghoon offered you tea without asking and sat beside you in a silence that felt like understanding.

You weren't supposed to fall. You definitely weren't supposed to fall in three directions at once.

You sighed and slowly pulled the blanket back, slipping out of bed as gently as you could manage. Jake shifted behind you, a soft rustle of sheets and a sleepy exhale.

You padded to the doorway of the bedroom, pausing there as your fingers brushed the frame.

"You're thinking way too hard for this early in the morning," Jake said, voice low and hoarse with sleep.

You turned, startled to see him already sitting up. His hair was a mess, his eyes half-lidded and squinting against the light, but his smile was genuine. Sleepy. Soft.

He rubbed a hand over his face, then met your eyes.

"Pancakes or silence?"

You blinked at him, then let out a breath of a laugh. "I should be the one asking if you want breakfast."

Jake shrugged, swinging his legs over the bed and standing up. "Just figured one of us should say it."

He walked toward you, and for a second, you thought he might kiss you. Instead, he just brushed a hand against your waist as he passed, making his way to the kitchen like it was nothing. Like this could be normal.

And maybe it could be. But that was the part that scared you.

You stood there a moment longer, your heart knotted and heavy in your chest. Last night had been real. Jake had been real.

But so were the butterflies when Jay looked at you like you were a mystery he wanted to solve. And so was the warmth in your chest when Sunghoon noticed the things you never said.

You weren't just in trouble—you were in it.

And you had no idea what to do next.

You were back on their couch again. Same spot. Different atmosphere.

Sunghoon was flipping through a game catalog on the TV, Jay was curled up in the corner scrolling on his phone, and Jake was… somewhere to your right. Close, but not close enough to pretend nothing had changed.

Because something had changed.

You hadn't talked about it. Neither of you had brought it up since this morning. Not the kiss. Not the night. Not the way you'd fallen asleep tangled in each other's arms like something out of a dream.

You were hyper-aware of his presence now—the way his shoulder occasionally brushed yours when he shifted, how his fingers twitched a bit like he wanted to say something and couldn't.

You wanted to say something too. But what? That you didn't regret it? That you did?

You hugged your knees tighter against your chest.

Sunghoon looked over from the floor and blinked. "Did one of you guys fight or something?"

Jay glanced up from his phone. "No. Why?"

Sunghoon made a little gesture between you and Jake. "You're acting weird."

Jake coughed. "What? I'm not weird. You're weird."

"Excellent comeback," Jay muttered under his breath.

"I'm just tired," you added quickly, forcing a smile that didn't quite reach your eyes. "Didn't sleep much."

Sunghoon raised a brow, clearly not buying it, but didn't push. "Right."

Jay, meanwhile, didn't say anything—but you could feel his gaze flicker toward you for a second too long. Observing. Thinking. Like he was putting a piece of something together.

Jake shifted beside you, tapping his fingers against his thigh. You knew he wanted to reach for you. Say something. Break the awkward tension before it cracked open the floor.

But he didn't.

And neither did you.

The controller passed hands. The banter continued. But the tension between you and Jake hung thick in the air—a quiet, unspoken question waiting for someone to be brave enough to answer it.

You thought you'd successfully slipped away.

The others had gotten caught up in some co-op game, and you'd taken the opportunity to retreat to the kitchen for water and, if you were being honest, space.

Your fingers curled around the glass a little tighter than necessary.

You didn't regret what happened with Jake. Not really. But now that the weight of it had settled and the quiet had crept in, the real thoughts were crawling up the back of your spine like vines—tangling everything you'd carefully compartmentalized.

Footsteps padded in behind you, and you didn't have to turn around to know who it was.

Jay leaned casually against the fridge, arms crossed, blonde hair slightly messy from lying down.

"So," he said, his voice low and mild. "You and Jake, huh?"

You froze mid-sip. "What?"

"Come on." He tilted his head, amused. "I may be dense sometimes, but I'm not blind. Or deaf. You both looked like you'd seen a ghost earlier. That, or you stuck your tongues down each other's throats and forgot to talk about it."

You winced. "That's… weirdly specific."

He smirked. "Because it's accurate?"

You didn't answer. You couldn't.

Jay's expression softened just a little. "Look, I'm not trying to pry. I just… noticed. Jake's been looking at you like you hung the stars lately. And now you won't even make eye contact."

You finally met his gaze, lips parted like you might try to defend yourself. But then you stopped. Because what was the point?

"We didn't fight," you said eventually. "It's just… complicated."

Jay nodded slowly, as if he understood more than he was letting on. "He's a good guy. He won't push you. But he's also not gonna pretend it didn't happen."

You blinked. "Are you—are you okay with it?"

He shrugged, glancing away for a moment. "Do I get a say?"

You stared at him, trying to read between the lines. His voice was calm, but there was a flicker of something rawer under the surface.

"I don't know," you said quietly. "Maybe."

Jay exhaled, then gave you a crooked smile. "Well. For what it's worth, you could've done worse."

That made you laugh—a soft, startled sound that briefly broke the tension.

"I just…" you started, but the words tangled. You looked down. "I didn't mean to get attached."

Jay didn't say anything.

"It just… happened."

When you finally glanced back up, Jay was watching you—really watching—with a kind of quiet understanding that made your chest ache.

"I know," he said, following it with a whisper, "just wished it happened to me instead."

And somehow, that was worse than if he'd said nothing at all.

"Yo, are you guys gonna make out in the kitchen or come pick your Mario Kart characters?"

Sunghoon's voice floated in from the living room, teasing and light. He was completely unaware of the emotional bomb that had just gone off between you and Jay, or he did but refused to acknowledge it.

You blinked, startled by the call, then glanced at Jay. He didn't say anything—just pushed off the fridge and gestured toward the door with a subtle tilt of his head.

"Let's go," he said.

You followed, heart suddenly heavy.

The game resumed. Laughter picked up again. Jake nudged your shoulder once when you sat beside him but didn't push when you didn't respond with your usual sass.

You smiled weakly. Tried to play like nothing had changed. But the echo of Jay's voice wouldn't leave your head.

The shift was subtle at first. A lingering glance here. A missed joke there. The group dynamics still flowed, but you could feel it—like something had been shaken and hadn't settled back into place.

Jake didn't press. He still smiled at you, still offered you the last slice of pizza, still handed you the extra controller. But the softness in his eyes was quieter now. Like he was waiting to see what came next.

Jay avoided being alone with you.

Sunghoon seemed to be the only one who hadn't picked up on the tension—or if he had, he had expertly ignored it, choosing to be the glue that kept everything together—the buffer.

You were grateful for him.

But your head was a mess.

And no matter how often you told yourself to figure it out, to pick a lane, your heart kept tugging in three different directions.

It was late. You couldn't sleep. The quiet of your own house felt stifling, and your thoughts were too loud.

So you stepped outside.

The breeze was cool, the streetlights casting soft shadows against the pavement. You wrapped your arms around yourself, intending to sit for a few minutes on your porch step.

But someone was already there.

Jay. He was sitting cross-legged on your porch, hoodie pulled over his head, eyes distant and fixed on the sky.

You stopped mid-step.

He looked over as if he'd known you were coming. "You always sneak out like this?"

A beat passed before you answered. "Only when I'm being chased by my own thoughts."

Your voice came out a little sharper than intended. You walked toward him, stopped in front, but didn't sit yet.

"Finally stopped avoiding me?" you asked, your tone light—too light and a little bitter.

Jay's jaw twitched.

You sighed, dropping your gaze. "Sorry. That was… I didn't mean it like that."

"No, it's fair," he said quietly. "I was avoiding you."

You sat beside him, silence wrapping around the both of you like a blanket stretched too thin.

Then, softly, you broke it. "I like all three of you."

His head turned toward you.

"I didn't mean for it to happen," you added quickly. "I didn't come here expecting to feel anything for anyone. But now I'm just—stuck. Because I care about you. And Jake. And even Sunghoon. I'm not trying to mess with anyone, I swear, I just…"

You exhaled hard.

"I'm overwhelmed," you whispered.

Jay didn't respond right away. Just stared ahead, hands curled into loose fists on his lap.

Finally, he said, "You know what the worst part is?"

You looked at him.

"I still want you," he murmured. "Even if you're not just mine."

The words punched through your ribs, and suddenly, you couldn't stay still.

You reached for him.

And he met you halfway.

The kiss was slow initially, tasting of hesitation and too many unsaid things. But it deepened quickly—days of tension and confusion, unraveling into something heavier. His hand gripped your waist like he couldn't let go.

"Come with me," he said against your lips.

Up the stairs to his room, where he closed the door behind you. Where the only light came from the hallway, casting long shadows across the floor.

He stepped close again. His eyes were darker now, not just with desire, but something more.

"You need to be quiet," he whispered, voice low against your ear. "Unless you want them to know that you're mine for tonight."

The thrill of the night shot through you. You nodded in silent agreement, tightening the coil of anticipation in your stomach. His hand, still warm from your waist, trailed up your arm, sending shivers across your skin despite the cool night air. He cupped your cheek, his thumb stroking the soft curve, and you leaned into his touch, wanting more.

His other hand found the hem of your shirt, and you lifted your arms without a word, allowing him to slide it over your head. The dim light painted your bare skin, and you watched his eyes darken further as they roamed over you. A possessive glint sparked in their depths, a silent claim that sent a shiver of excitement mixed with nervousness down your spine.

He reached for the clasp of your bra, his fingers surprisingly deft, and the delicate lace fell away, freeing your breasts. You held your breath, the air suddenly thick with unspoken desires. His gaze lingered, heavy and intent, before he finally lowered his head, his lips brushing against your collarbone.

"Mine," he murmured against your skin, the word a low rumble that vibrated through you. He trailed kisses along your neck, each touch sending a jolt of heat through your veins. You tilted your head back, offering him more, your fingers tangling in the soft strands of his hair. His hands moved lower, tracing the curve of your hips, pulling you closer until you were flush against him. You could feel the hard bulge pressing against your pajama bottoms, a blatant reminder of his desire. A soft gasp escaped your lips.

He pulled back slightly, his eyes locking with yours. "Are you sure about this?" he whispered, his voice rough with wanting.

You didn't need words. Your hands found the edge of his hoodie, pulling it over his head. His bare chest was revealed, the faint moonlight highlighting the lean muscles. You ran your palms over his warm skin, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath your fingertips.

He groaned softly, his hands tightening on your hips. He leaned down, his lips finding yours again, the kiss now urgent and demanding. His tongue plunged into your mouth, tasting of longing and a desperate need to possess.

With a shared urgency, you both began to shed the remaining layers of clothing. His pants were quickly discarded, revealing the thick length straining against his briefs. You fumbled with the drawstring of your pajama bottoms, and they slid down your legs, pooling at your ankles.

He stepped back, his eyes devouring your naked form in the dim light. You felt a flush creep up your neck, a mixture of shyness and arousal. But the possessive look in his eyes fueled a boldness within you. You met his gaze, letting him see the desire that mirrored his own.

He reached for you again, his hands sliding around your waist, lifting you until your legs wrapped around his hips. The sudden friction against his hard length through his briefs made you gasp. He carried you a few steps, until the back of your legs bumped against the edge of his bed.

He didn't break eye contact as he lowered you, your bare skin sliding against his clothed lower half. The contact was electric, a spark that ignited a fire in your core. He leaned down, his lips nuzzling your neck again.

"Tonight," he whispered, his breath hot against your skin, "you're all mine."

And as he finally shed his briefs, revealing the full, throbbing length of his desire, you knew he meant it. 

His hands tightened on your thighs, guiding you closer until the slick head of his cock pressed against your wet folds. A gasp hitched in your throat, the intimacy of the contact stealing your breath in the dimly lit room. He paused, his dark eyes searching yours, a silent question swirling between you. You answered with a slow, deliberate nod, your hips instinctively arching, a silent plea urging him closer.

"God, you feel so good already," he breathed, his voice a low, husky tremor against your ear, laced with a raw desire that mirrored your own.

With a low groan that resonated deep in his chest, he finally pressed forward. You squeezed your eyes shut, a sharp intake of breath escaping your lips as his thick length stretched you, filling you completely. A wave of sensation, a potent mix of pleasure and a fleeting moment of intensity, washed over you. He remained still for a heart-stopping moment, allowing your body to adjust to his size, the only sound the soft rustle of the sheets beneath your entangled limbs.

"So tight," he murmured, a possessive edge to his tone, a hint of a satisfied smirk playing on his lips as if claiming a long-desired prize.

Then, he began to move, slow, deliberate thrusts that rocked your hips against his. Each measured slide sent a ripple of heat expanding from your core, an ache that intensified with every inch he pushed deeper inside you. You wrapped your legs tighter around his waist, your fingernails digging into the firm muscles of his shoulders, clinging to him as if he were your only anchor.

"Jay," you whispered, your voice a breathy plea, raw with the burgeoning sensations he was igniting within you.

His kisses grew more urgent, his mouth claiming yours in a hungry exploration, devouring your soft lips as his pace quickened. The rhythm he established was primal, demanding, a relentless tide pulling you under, and you met him thrust for thrust, your bodies moving together in an ancient, desperate dance of yearning. The air grew thick with your mingled breaths, soft moans escaping your lips like whispered secrets.

He trailed hot, wet kisses down the sensitive curve of your neck, his teeth gently nipping at your skin, sending shivers of pure delight cascading down your spine. His hands roamed freely, possessively cupping your breasts, his thumbs teasing your aching nipples until they were hard, throbbing peaks begging for more of his touch.

"Does that feel good, baby?" he asked, his voice thick with lust, the question more of a statement as he felt your involuntary response.

"Mmm-hmm," you moaned, your head lolling back, arching your back in a silent offering, your hips bucking against his with an increasing, desperate urgency. The friction was exquisite, building a searing pressure deep within you, a coiled spring threatening to shatter your carefully constructed control. A soft cry escaped your lips as the first undeniable wave of pleasure washed over you, your inner muscles clenching around him in a tight embrace.

He felt your release, the intense, shuddering grip around his cock, and his own carefully leashed control began to fray. His thrusts deepened, became faster, driven by a primal need to reach the precipice with you. He groaned against your neck, his body trembling with the force of his impending climax.

"You're driving me fucking crazy," he muttered, his breath hot and ragged against your skin, the words a testament to the intensity of your connection.

With a final, guttural cry that tore from his throat, he plunged deep, burying himself fully within you, holding you so tightly it almost hurt, as his body convulsed with the force of his release. The hot, thick spurts flooded you, a final, intimate claiming that sealed your connection for the night, a silent promise echoing in the darkness. You clung to him, your own body still quivering from the lingering aftershocks of your orgasm, feeling utterly spent, completely sated, and undeniably his at that moment.

He collapsed against you, his breathing ragged and uneven, his heart pounding a wild rhythm against your chest. The silence that followed was heavy with the weight of your shared intimacy, broken only by the soft, contented sighs that escaped your lips. He nuzzled his face into the soft strands of your hair, his arms wrapped around you in a fiercely possessive embrace.

The room was still. Only the faint hum of the streetlights outside and the slow rhythm of Jay's breathing filled the silence now.

You lay tangled in his sheets, your head against his shoulder, the warmth of his skin grounding you even as your mind began to spiral. Everything had been so fast and intense— now it was just quiet.

And in the quiet, the guilt started to set in.

Jay's fingers traced slow, absentminded lines along your spine. But even that gentle comfort couldn't stop the ache from blooming in your chest.

"I should go," you whispered.

His hand stilled. You didn't lift your head, but you felt the shift in his body. "Are you okay?" he asked, voice husky with sleep and something softer.

"Yeah," you said quickly, then shook your head. "No. I mean—I don't know. I just… I can't stay here. I can't face them in the morning. Not like this."

Jay didn't say anything for a moment. Then he exhaled. "Okay."

You looked up at him. "You're not mad?"

He met your eyes, something unreadable flickering in his. "No. I get it. It's a lot. You don't owe me anything more than what you gave tonight."

The knot in your chest tightened. "But I do. I shouldn't have—"

"Don't do that," he cut in gently. "Don't regret it."

You pressed your lips together, your throat tight. "I'm sorry," you said quietly.

He brushed your hair back from your face, fingers careful. "Don't be. I knew what this was."

You weren't sure if that made you feel better or worse.

He sat up slowly, pulling on a hoodie and offering you your clothes with a soft glance. "You want me to walk you back?"

You shook your head. "I'll be okay."

You dressed in silence, both of you moving like you didn't want to disturb whatever fragile peace had been carved out of the night.

At the door, you turned back. Jay leaned against the frame, arms crossed. He didn't look hurt. Just tired.

"Thank you," you said, voice barely audible.

He nodded. "Anytime."

And then you slipped out, into the cool night, back to your house next door.

Alone again.

And full of too many feelings for three boys who had no idea how much space they were taking up in your heart.

You hadn't slept much.

Your own bed, despite being familiar, felt too cold and too quiet. Your body still remembered Jay's touch, the warmth of his skin, and the way his voice had dropped when he told you to be quiet.

You pulled the blanket over your face.

What the hell were you doing?

You'd crossed a line. One you couldn't uncross. Not with Jake. Not with Jay. And the worst part was, Sunghoon's name still lingered somewhere in the back of your mind too.

You stayed in bed for as long as possible, pretending time would fold in on itself and save you from facing any of it.

But eventually, your stomach growled, and the sound of faint laughter and pots clanging across the street reminded you that life didn't stop just because you were emotionally fried.

When you finally made your way back over to the boys' house—barely knocking before letting yourself in like usual—you were met with the smell of eggs and toast, and the sight of Jake and Sunghoon crowded around the stove.

Jake looked up first. "Hey," he greeted, and his smile faltered for just a second—almost imperceptibly—before he forced it back on.

"Morning," you said softly, offering a small wave. You didn't miss the way your eyes slid away from his a beat too fast.

Sunghoon handed you a plate wordlessly, but his gaze lingered a little longer than usual, eyes quietly calculating. Like he was picking up on something you hadn't said yet.

"Where's Jay?" you asked, filling the silence and desperate to sound casual.

"Out back. He's fixing the stupid broken light again," Sunghoon answered, setting his own plate down on the table.

Jake nudged a chair out with his foot, gesturing for you to sit. You took it. The awkwardness swirled like steam from your food.

No one said anything, not for a while. Not until Jake cleared his throat and stood up, grabbing his glass of water even though it was still full.

"I'm gonna help Jay," he muttered.

Neither you nor Sunghoon stopped him.

Once the door shut behind him, you looked down at your untouched plate, then up again—only to find Sunghoon still watching you, fork halfway to his mouth.

"You good?" he asked.

You hesitated. "Yeah. Just tired."

He didn't look convinced, but he nodded anyway.

You both ate in silence for a bit longer, though the air wasn't quite as heavy. But you could feel something shifting. You just didn't know what it meant yet.

You finished about half your plate before pushing it away, appetite lost to the fog settling over your chest. Sunghoon was still eating, but slower now. Like he was waiting for something. Or maybe just giving you time to speak.

“You’re quiet,” he finally said, voice gentle.

“I’m always quiet,” you deflected, eyes darting to the window, where you could just barely see Jake and Jay moving around the back porch.

Sunghoon smiled faintly. “You’re a different kind of quiet today.” That made you pause.

You didn’t know what to say because he wasn’t wrong. You were being careful. Hesitant. Trying not to touch the edges of what happened last night or what it meant for the three boys sitting on the other side of it. But Sunghoon wasn’t pushing. He just kept looking at you like he saw through the layers you were trying to keep up.

“I saw you leave last night,” he said finally, setting down his fork. “You didn’t come back.”

Your throat tightened. “Yeah.”

His voice was still calm. “Was it Jay?”

You looked at him then. Really looked.

And for the first time in days, you saw it—the softness around his mouth that had hardened. The slight crease in his brow. He already knew.

“Yeah,” you whispered.

Sunghoon exhaled, not in anger, but in some resigned version of understanding. His fingers tapped once on the table. “You don’t owe me an explanation.”

“I know,” you said, your voice small. “But I still feel like I’m screwing everything up.”

He gave you a look filled with more empathy than you deserved. “You’re not screwing it up. It just… hurts a little. That’s all.” You didn’t know what to say to that. So you said nothing.

Jay and Jake returned shortly after, and the rest of the morning blurred into a hazy half-day of almost normal. You all sat together in the living room, watching a movie none of you paid attention to. Jake kept fidgeting with the throw pillow. Jay barely spoke. Sunghoon… he sat the farthest from you.

You hated it. All of it.

The tension in the room felt unbearable, the silence so thick you could practically taste it. Sunghoon and Jake hadn't spoken much, still lost in their thoughts. You couldn't quite bring yourself to face them—especially after last night, after everything that had happened. You were caught in this strange, suffocating space between them, not knowing how to move forward.

The quiet stretched on for what felt like hours, but it was only minutes. You kept stealing glances at them, noticing the awkward glances they'd throw your way when they thought you weren't looking. You could feel the weight of their confusion, the heaviness of the unspoken things between you.

You opened your mouth several times, but the words always felt hard to say.

Finally, unable to stay cooped up inside anymore, you spoke up.

"Hey, Sunghoon," you began, voice small, hesitant. He looked at you, clearly surprised that you were addressing him. "You mentioned the rooftop… a while back. Can I… can I go up there for some air?"

You could hear the reluctance in your own voice, but there was also a desperate need to escape the oppressive tension in the house. You didn't want to be in the same room as any of them right now. Not with everything swirling in your head. Not when your heart was so tangled up in all of them.

Sunghoon hesitated, catching the tone of your voice. He nodded after a beat. "Yeah, of course. I'll show you." He stood from the table, motioning toward the door.

You followed him silently, grateful for the excuse to leave the suffocating atmosphere behind. He led you up the stairs and through the door to the rooftop. The cool evening air hit you immediately, the breeze brushing over your skin as you stepped outside.

It was quiet up here. The city stretched out before you, peaceful and calm in the twilight. But you didn't feel calm. You felt the opposite—a storm swirling inside your chest, the weight of your confusion pressing down on you.

Sunghoon didn't push you to speak. He just stood beside you, leaning against the railing, gazing out over the skyline. But after a while, you couldn't hold it in anymore.

"I—" You stopped yourself, realizing how vulnerable you were. You didn't want to break down here in front of Sunghoon. It wasn't his fault. It wasn't anyone's fault.

"I don't think I can do this right now," you muttered, eyes fixed on the horizon. You didn't know what you were even talking about. Your words felt like they didn't belong in the same sentence. "I can't face them."

Sunghoon turned his head slightly toward you, his brow furrowing. "What do you mean? You can talk to them."

You shook your head, a lump forming in your throat. "I don't think I can. I don't even know what to say to them. Or to you." You let out a shaky breath, shoulders slumping under the weight of it all. "I think… I think I need to be alone. I can't deal with all of this."

You felt his presence linger momentarily, but he didn't press. He simply nodded. "Okay. I'll leave you to it, then. If you need anything, you know where to find me."

And then he left. The door behind you clicked softly, leaving you with your thoughts.

The moment you were truly alone, the walls came crashing down.

You sat there on the cold rooftop, your back against the railing, knees pulled up tightly to your chest. The city spread out before you, but you couldn't see any of it clearly through the fog of your emotions. The tears wouldn't stop.

Everything felt like it was spiraling out of control.

You hadn't meant for any of this to happen. You hadn't meant to let things get this messy. But here you were, caught in a web of emotions that felt too heavy to bear. You felt suffocated by your own thoughts, trapped by everything you couldn't control.

"I'm such a mess," you whispered hoarsely, your voice barely audible above the soft hum of the wind. You hated the way your words sounded. Pathetic. Weak.

But it was true. You were a mess. You'd let things get too tangled with the guys, let your feelings run wild without thinking of the consequences. And now, everything was breaking apart around you.

You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to block out the tears that kept coming, but it was no use. They were unstoppable.

You weren't just crying for the mess between you and the boys. You were crying for yourself. For the way you had let everything slip out of control. You were disgusted with yourself—disgusted that you couldn't make a decision, disgusted that you couldn't keep your emotions in check.

How had you let things get this far? How had you ended up here, drowning in a sea of guilt and regret?

You didn't deserve any of them.

You didn't deserve to be loved by any of them. Not when you couldn't even figure out what you wanted. Not when you had let your emotions run wild and hurt the very people you cared about.

You covered your face with your hands, your chest tightening with each breath. "Why can't I just get it right?" you choked out, your voice breaking. "Why can't I just… know what I want?"

The tears came harder then, and you let them, unable to hold back any longer. You hated the feeling of weakness, hated that you were so torn up inside. You wanted to be strong, to have everything figured out. But you didn't. You were a mess, and you couldn't escape it.

"I'm so sorry," you whispered, the words more for yourself than anyone else. "I'm sorry for being this way."

It was so much. You could feel the weight of it crushing you, suffocating you with each breath. The silence of the rooftop only made it worse, amplifying the noise in your own head. You weren't sure how much more you could take.

And just as you were about to let the tears consume you completely, you heard footsteps behind you.

You wiped at your eyes quickly, trying to gather yourself, but it was too late. Sunghoon had already seen you.

"You shouldn't be out here alone," he said, his voice soft, almost too soft for the weight of the moment. You didn't even turn to face him. You didn't want him to see you like this, broken and vulnerable. But you could hear him moving closer, his footsteps steady and sure.

"I'm fine," you whispered, but it was a lie. You weren't fine. You were far from it.

He didn't say anything at first. Instead, you felt him sit down beside you, the warmth of his body a quiet presence against your cold, shaking form. His silence wasn't uncomfortable, though. It was… soothing. A small comfort in the chaos of your thoughts.

"You don't have to pretend with me, Y/N," he said softly, his tone steady but filled with understanding. "You don't have to hold it all in."

The words hit you like a wave, and before you could stop yourself, a sob broke free from your chest. You hadn't realized how much you needed to hear that. How much you needed to hear that it was okay to fall apart, that it was okay to be weak.

"I'm so sorry," you whispered through your tears. "I'm sorry for everything. For making it so complicated. For hurting everyone. I didn't mean to. I never meant for any of this to happen."

Sunghoon didn't move. He stayed close, letting you cry, his presence a steady anchor in the storm of your emotions.

"You're not hurting anyone," he said gently. "But you have to let yourself breathe, Y/N. You can't keep holding all of this in. It's okay to feel what you're feeling."

You shook your head, the tears still coming. "I don't know what to feel. I don't know what to do."

"I know," he said, his voice calm. "But you'll figure it out. You don't have to do it alone."

You laughed bitterly, looking at him then, even though your tears blurred your vision. "Look at me right now. I'm the one who's hurting you. I'm the one causing all of this, and yet here you are, comforting me." You swallowed hard, more tears slipping down your face. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry for dragging you into this."

Sunghoon's hand moved to your shoulder, and you could feel the warmth of his touch, grounding you. "You're not dragging me into anything," he said softly. "I'm here because I care. I'm not going anywhere."

You shook your head, feeling a pit in your stomach. "I don't deserve this," you whispered, feeling utterly broken. "I don't deserve to have people like you care about me."

Sunghoon didn't respond immediately. Instead, he sat beside you, silent and steady, as if he were letting you say everything you needed to say, as if he knew that sometimes, there were no words to fix everything.

The tears slowed, but the weight in your chest didn't go away. You felt raw and vulnerable, like you had laid everything out in front of him. But something in the way he sat beside you—his quiet strength, his unwavering support—made it feel a little less like you were drowning.

Finally, Sunghoon spoke again, his voice soft, but full of warmth. "You're not alone in this, Y/N. We'll figure it out. Together."

You nodded, your chest tightening again, but not from sadness this time. It was something else, something soft and almost like relief. The tension in your body didn't disappear, but somehow, it wasn't as heavy.

You swallowed hard, feeling a mix of relief and something else you couldn't quite place. But before you could pull away, Sunghoon's voice stopped you.

"I know what happened with the other two."

Your heart stopped. You looked at him, trying to gauge if he was joking. But there was no teasing in his expression, no sign of anger. Just calm understanding. Your chest tightened, and you felt a lump in your throat.

"I… I didn't mean for things to get so complicated," you whispered, your voice small, ashamed.

Sunghoon nodded slowly, his gaze unwavering. "I'm not mad, Y/N. I'm not angry. I understand."

You opened your mouth to say something, but nothing came out. You felt your mind spinning, all the thoughts crashing into each other. This—this thing you were doing, the mess you were making—it was all too much. You couldn't handle the guilt, couldn't deal with the weight of it anymore.

You turned your head, your hands shaking as you reached up to tie your hair up. You felt frantic, out of control, and the only thing that came to your mind was to offer something—anything—to make it right. To stop feeling so wrong.

"You—" you started, but your voice was shaky, desperate. "You want me to—want me to give you head? I could—" Your hands were still moving frantically, trying to tie your hair up, anything to stop the overwhelming pressure building in your chest. "I'll make it right, I'll do whatever you want, just… please, tell me what you want, and I'll do it."

You felt the panic rise in your throat, your breathing shallow, as the words tumbled out before you could stop them. The sense of needing to fix everything by any means possible—it was overwhelming.

But Sunghoon's reaction wasn't what you expected. His hand gently caught yours, stopping your movements, and when you looked up at him, his eyes were filled with something softer than you had expected. There was no anger, no judgment. But there was something else—something that made your chest tighten even more.

He took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. “Y/N…” His voice cracked a little, and you could see his eyes glistening with unshed tears. "You don't need to do that. You don't need to fix anything. You don't have to give me anything." His thumb gently brushed against your wrist, calming you in a way that no words could. "You don't need to make up for anything."

Your body froze, the reality of what he said hitting you harder than anything else. "But… I… I hurt you, Sunghoon. I hurt you all. I just… I don't know how to make it stop. I don't know how to fix this."

He shook his head softly, his voice quiet but full of emotion. "You don't need to fix anything, Y/N. You're not the problem. You're… you're human. You're allowed to make mistakes. You're allowed to be confused. Just… let yourself be okay with that."

Tears welled up in your eyes again, but this time, they weren't full of guilt or panic. They were filled with something else. Vulnerability. Acceptance. The weight you'd been carrying felt lighter somehow, but the release of it only made the rawness of your feelings crash in on you harder.

"You don't have to apologize for everything," Sunghoon whispered, his voice soft. "You don't have to be perfect. You just need to let yourself feel. Let yourself breathe."

You bit your lip, trying to hold back the flood of emotions that were threatening to break free, but they came anyway—hot and fast, rolling down your cheeks. You hadn't realized how much you needed someone to say that. To say you didn't have to fix everything, that it was okay to be lost for a while.

You let yourself lean into him then, letting the weight of everything go as he held you close.

Sunghoon didn't let go. He just held you—comforting, steady, as you cried, letting the tears wash away all the guilt and uncertainty you'd been carrying.

When the tears finally slowed, you pulled away, your face flushed from crying. You looked up at him, sniffing and wiping at your eyes, still feeling so vulnerable, so raw.

"I'm sorry," you whispered again, your voice hoarse. "I don't know what I'm doing."

Sunghoon's smile was small but soft, his eyes kind. "You don't have to know. Just… be you. That's enough."

You nodded, feeling a sense of peace that you hadn't expected to find so suddenly. But it was there, soft and comforting in his presence. It was enough.

Sunghoon's grip on your hands tightened just a little, like he was grounding you in this moment, as you slowly calmed down. He looked at you with that same calm and understanding expression, as if he wasn't about to rush you into anything—something that made the overwhelming pressure in your chest ease just a bit more.

"You don't have to make any decisions right now, Y/N," he said softly, his voice steady. "You don't have to choose between us right away." He took a deep breath, his eyes soft and earnest as he spoke, like he was giving you permission to take your time. "I'll talk to the guys. We'll figure this out together, okay? But you need to take some time to think, to breathe. We'll give you space to sort out your feelings. You don't have to make any decisions while you're still… figuring it out."

You swallowed, nodding slowly as his words sunk in. It was like a weight had been lifted off your shoulders. You didn't have to rush into anything. You didn't have to make some grand gesture to fix everything. You could just be—take things one step at a time.

His hand brushed against your cheek gently, wiping away a stray tear that had fallen during your moment of vulnerability. The gesture felt so tender, so comforting, like he was there, not to pressure you, but to support you as you figured out what to do next.

"I know it's a mess," Sunghoon said, his voice low, almost apologetic. "But we'll make it work, Y/N. I'm not going anywhere. None of us are." He paused, his gaze never leaving yours. "And neither are you."

You nodded again, this time feeling a bit more at ease. There was a deep part of you that appreciated the way he was handling everything—giving you space, but still offering his support, not expecting you to have it all figured out immediately.

"I'm sorry for making everything so complicated," you murmured, your voice small.

"Hey," Sunghoon said, his tone firm yet gentle, "You don't have to apologize for feeling things. You didn't ask for this mess, and you don't have to fix it all at once. Just… breathe. It's going to be okay."

You felt the last of the tension in your chest slowly start to unwind. His words, his presence, his understanding—they were a comfort, a balm to the rawness you'd been carrying.

"It'll be okay," Sunghoon added quietly, as if to reassure you further. "We'll figure this out. We're all in this together. And you don't have to do it alone."

You let out a shaky breath, feeling a tear slip down your cheek despite the calmness washing over you. But this time, it wasn't sadness—it was relief.

"Thank you," you whispered, the words coming out more heartfelt than you'd expected.

Sunghoon gave you a soft smile, nodding in reassurance. "Anytime, Y/N. Anytime."

For a while, the two of you sat there in silence, just sharing the moment. It wasn't easy, but it was a step toward something. Something that felt like understanding, something that felt like hope. And for the first time in what felt like forever, you allowed yourself to lean into that, to let the quiet moment settle in your heart.

Days after that moment with Sunghoon were filled with a haze of sleepless nights and quiet mornings. You'd distanced yourself—not because the boys pushed you away, but because they didn't. They gave you the space Sunghoon had promised. No probing questions. No passive-aggressive comments. Just… distance. And somehow, that hurt even more.

It was strange being in your own house again. The quiet felt unfamiliar. Cold. You had no one laughing in the next room. No shared meals or dumb banter or movies left half-watched on the couch. Just you. Alone with your thoughts.

Which was why, three days later, you found yourself curled up on the bed with your phone pressed to your ear, waiting for the FaceTime to connect.

"Holy finally!" Taehyun's face popped onto the screen, a dramatic groan escaping him as Hueningkai leaned over his shoulder, grinning.

"We thought you died," Kai added, waving. "Or worse—got a boyfriend and forgot about us."

You let out a laugh that didn't quite reach your eyes. "Not exactly."

Taehyun narrowed his eyes immediately. "Okay, what's wrong?"

"I—" You hesitated, fingers curling in the blanket bunched around your knees. "It's been… a lot."

Hueningkai sat up straighter. "This have something to do with the last time you called? The whole Jay-being-your-fake-boyfriend thing?"

You nodded slowly. "It's not fake anymore."

Taehyun's eyebrows shot up, but he stayed quiet, waiting for you to continue.

You swallowed. "Something happened. With Jake. Then… something else happened. With Jay. And then, I… I had a breakdown in front of Sunghoon. And that turned into a whole thing too."

It took a moment, but both of them visibly deflated. The teasing drained from their faces, replaced by concern and understanding.

You explained everything. Every confusing, tangled detail. The kiss at the gate with Jake. That night in your room. The aftermath. Jay on the porch. That night in his room. Sunghoon on the rooftop. The crying. The panic. The shame. All of it spilled out like floodgates had burst open.

By the time you finished, your eyes were glassy, and your throat ached from trying not to cry again.

"They've been nothing but good to me," you whispered. "And I just… keep messing it all up."

Taehyun was quiet for a beat, and then he said, "Y/N, you're not messing anything up. You're just human. This—what you're feeling—it's complicated, sure. But you're allowed to be confused. You're allowed to feel everything you're feeling."

Kai nodded slowly. "Honestly? It doesn't even sound like a love triangle. It's a love circle at this point."

That startled a laugh out of you, wet and breathless. "That's not helping."

"Okay, but listen," Taehyun cut in gently. "You've been through a lot. You moved, you got hit with Heeseung out of nowhere, and suddenly these guys show up who make you feel things you're not ready for. That's a lot."

"And none of them seem angry at you," Kai pointed out. "Which means they're probably feeling the same things you are. Scared. Confused. Maybe a little hopeful."

You looked down. "I feel gross."

"You're not," Taehyun said firmly. "You didn't lead anyone on. You're trying to be honest. It's just… messy. Love is messy. You know that better than anyone."

You let the silence sit for a moment, heart beating unevenly.

"I didn't mean to get attached," you said finally, your voice small, fragile. "I really tried not to. But it's like… it just happened when I wasn't paying attention. One second I was just grateful to have people being nice to me, and then…"

You trailed off, trying to catch your breath as the weight of your own confession settled around you.

Taehyun's expression softened. "And then it felt like home, didn't it?"

Your eyes stung. "Yeah."

Hueningkai leaned forward, his teasing long gone. "You let your guard down. That's not weakness, Y/N. That's trust."

"But that's the problem," you whispered, hands gripping the edge of your blanket. "I trusted too easily. I crossed too many lines. I hurt them. And I hate myself for it."

Taehyun shook his head slowly. "You didn't hurt them by feeling something. You didn't do anything wrong by catching feelings."

You blinked hard, looking away. "But I didn't just catch feelings for one of them. That's the part that makes me feel disgusting."

There was a beat of silence. Then Kai asked gently, "Do you regret any of it?"

Your stomach twisted. You thought about Jake's nervous laughter, Jay's quiet intensity, Sunghoon's unwavering calm.

"No," you admitted, voice cracking. "That's what scares me."

Taehyun's voice was firm but kind. "You got attached because they treated you like you mattered. Because they made you feel seen. That's not something you should punish yourself for."

Kai raised his eyebrows. "Yeah, unless you ghost them all and move to the states. Then maybe we'll judge you a little."

You snorted, wiping your face with your sleeve. "I thought about it."

"Don't," Taehyun said. "You're not broken. You're just… figuring it out. And they clearly care about you enough to give you time to do that. That says a lot."

You looked at both of them, your chest tight. "I don't deserve any of you."

Kai huffed. "Stop that. You do. You just forgot for a little while."

You nodded slowly, a breath catching in your throat. "I guess… I just don't know who I am without all the noise right now."

"Then this is the part where you find out," Taehyun said, his voice low but steady. "Take the time. Ask yourself the real questions. What do you want? Not who wants you. Not who needs you. You."

That settled deep in your bones—something real, something that hurt in a good way.

"Yeah," you whispered. "I will."

"Good," Kai said, relaxing back into the couch on his end of the call. "Because if we don't get a dramatic update soon, I swear to god, I will file a missing person's report. Emotionally."

You laughed wetly. "I love you guys."

"We love you more," Taehyun said, smiling. "Now go figure your shit out. We've got your back."

You hung up with a little more strength in your chest, but the decision still loomed over you like a shadow.

You'd opened your heart.

Now you had to decide what to do with it.

The following days blurred into one another like watercolor bleeding into paper. You existed in the quiet in-between, drifting from your room to the kitchen, out to the porch and back again. No more playful teasing from across couches. No more secondhand warmth in a home that wasn't yours but somehow had become one.

You didn't go over. Not even when you heard their laughter on the other side of the wall. Not even when silence settled in, and it felt like they were waiting.

Instead, you sat with it. All of it.

Your guilt. Your want. Your indecision.

You journaled. You overthought. You laid on the floor and stared at the ceiling for hours, cycling through memories like some self-inflicted highlight reel—Jake's laugh against your skin, Jay's voice in the dark, Sunghoon's arms around you when you were breaking.

How could something that had made you feel so whole also tear you apart like this?

Sometimes you hated them for making you feel seen. Other times, you hated yourself for needing it so badly.

There was no clean answer. No neat conclusion. Only the dull ache in your chest and the knowledge that no matter what choice you made, someone was going to get hurt.

And you would lose something—someone—no matter what.

But you couldn't stay in limbo forever.

One night, just after the sun dipped low enough to tint the sky gold, you stood on your porch and stared at their door. Your feet carried you forward before your brain could protest.

The door opened too fast. Jake.

His eyes widened for a split second, but he stepped aside without a word, jaw tight.

Jay was sitting at the table. Sunghoon leaned against the back wall, arms crossed.

All of them looked like they hadn't slept right in days.

You didn't sit. You stood in the middle of the room and met all three of their gazes one by one. No more hiding.

"I'm sorry," you said first. "For all of it. For not knowing what I wanted. For dragging you through it."

Silence.

Then Jay's voice, low: "You don't have to apologize for feeling something."

"But I do," you insisted, voice cracking. "Because I didn't just feel something. I felt… everything. For all of you. And I didn't know how to stop it. I still don't."

Jake looked down. Sunghoon's jaw tensed. Jay didn't move.

Your throat burned. "I've spent days trying to figure it out. To pick a side. But the truth is… I loved the way Jake made me feel like joy was still possible. I loved how Jay made me feel safe. And I loved the way Sunghoon never asked me to be anything more than exactly what I was."

Jake swallowed hard. "Don't do this just to make us feel better."

"I'm not," you whispered. "I needed to say it. Because I don't know if I get to keep saying anything after tonight."

Still, none of them moved. The tension stretched like a held breath.

You stepped back, chest tight. "I've made my decision."

Their eyes snapped to yours.

"I know now," you said, voice low. Steady. "I know what I want."

The silence was sharper this time, a breath held between all of you.

Jake blinked, eyes searching. Sunghoon's lips parted, like he might speak but thought better of it. Jay looked down, then back up at you.

And then—you said it.

Just a name. Just once. And everything shifted.

Jake looked away first, nodding slowly, jaw tightening. No anger. Just acceptance.

Jay's eyes closed for a second—relief or heartbreak, you couldn't tell.

Sunghoon took the longest to react. He didn't move at all until finally, he exhaled. A soft breath, then a quiet, unreadable smile.

No one cried. No one yelled. No one left.

But you knew it was the beginning of something. And the end of something else.

You just didn't know yet what came after.

The camera was angled awkwardly, bouncing slightly as your phone leaned against the mirror. You were mid–toothbrush, foam clinging to the corners of your mouth, hair a mess from sleep and cheeks still warm from last night.

On-screen, Taehyun and Hueningkai were already in full chaotic mode.

"I'm telling you," Kai was saying, waving a spoon of cereal like it was a weapon, "this guy came up to me at the convenience store and asked if I wanted to buy his mixtape. I said no, and he still shoved it in my hand! Who carries CDs anymore?!"

Taehyun snorted. "You? Apparently."

You laughed through the foam in your mouth, spitting into the sink. "You have 'CD buyer energy,' Kai. Just admit it."

"Wow," he said flatly. "Betrayed by the one person I thought had taste."

As you reached for your towel, something behind you caught Taehyun's eye. He leaned closer to his screen.

"Wait…" he squinted. "Is that… is that an extra toothbrush?"

You froze for half a second. Just a beat. Then casually kept patting your face dry.

"What extra toothbrush?" you asked, too innocently.

Hueningkai leaned in now too. "Oh my god. It is! That's not yours. Yours is the purple one—who's the blue one?!"

"Must be a reflection," you said quickly.

"In the mirror?"

"Wouldn't you two like to know," you smirked, tossing the towel over the edge of the sink.

Taehyun's mouth dropped open. “Y/N—”

"Who is it?" Kai gasped dramatically. "Don't tell me you actually made a choice."

Before you could answer—or deflect again—a voice called faintly from offscreen:

"Babe! Did you see where I left my hoodie?"

You froze for just a second… and then smiled slowly.

"Bye!!" you said sweetly, grabbing your phone.

"WAIT—" Taehyun shouted.

"WHO'S WAITING FOR YOU?!" Kai screamed, full panic in his tone.

But you were already hitting end, cheek sore from grinning.

Somewhere behind you, footsteps padded closer. A soft laugh. And then a warm arm wrapped around your waist as you leaned back into the person you chose.

"Come on, the other two are already waiting for us."

And this time, you didn't feel unsure at all.

© all rights reserved ─ @gyu-tori 2025

Rei's Notes ✎: Uhm... hi? I'm back alive yippie!! I think a 22k fic is enough as an apology for how long I've been gone. To be honest I don't think I'm back at my peak motivation and skill to write yet but I owe you guys a story after a while. I still hope you enjoy it, especially since thees smut again teehee. Trying a new way to approach graphics too!! Decided to write a long one since I’m not sure how long til my next one. As always I'd love to hear your thoughts and how this made you feel so leave a reblog or reply!! <33

⟢ Taglist: @yunverie @dawngyu @hueningstar @hhoneyhan @immelissaaa @lovingbeomgyudayone @xylatox @i-like-to-read-at-4am @pagelets @isjsnsjsn @laylasbunbunny @riribelle @highway-143 @dearestdreamies @strxwbloody @deobitifull @enhaformysanity @httpenhoon @kissesfrombella @m1kkso @saejinniestar @mariegalea If you want to be tagged in all of my fics, go here to be added to my permanent taglist.

[moonyysgirl]

And you thought you didn't like me huh?- Remus Lupin x Reader

pairing; dealer!remus lupin x fem!reader summary; remus is the school's dealer, you go and buy from him after you and your boyfriend broke up, and, to your surprise, you find comfort in him cw; smut, modern au, loser!remus, dealer!remus, jealous!remus pt 2; pt 3; pt 4

You caught on him at the ring of the bell. He was smoking in the parking lot, leaning on his car. You already knew him, he was the school's dealer. Your friends always said he was a loser, a stoner. Your boyfriend thought that too, always saying people like him were miserable, but that wasn't your boyfriend anymore, and after all the stuff that happened, you just wanted to smoke, turn off your brain, and forget about all that fucking story.

You waited for the parking lot to empty before you went up to him. He was wearing dark jeans, an heavy sweater, a jacket. He stood alone in the parking lot, smoking a cig, as a light rain started falling. He noticed you, he looked up squinting, his wet hair covering his forehead, the cig resting between his rosy lips.

"Hi" it was the first time you spoke to him in months. He kept looking at you, not greeting you back. It was your first time buying weed, and you weren't sure what to say, but you couldn't care less about Remus Lupin's opinion, so you built up some courage and finally spoke "I wanted to buy some stuff".

He nodded slowly "yeah, I kinda figured." You rolled your eyes "Can you help me or not?" he took another drag "I guess so. What do you want? Pills? Coke?" you looked at him, trying to figure out if he was joking, it didn't seem like he was "Of course not! I just wanted some weed!" you said in exasperation. Remus smiled "of course you do" he threw the cig away "Okay, so, let's see what I have here" he said opening the car door.

You got in the car with him, sitting in the passenger's seat. The car was messy, but it somehow smelled nice. Remus opened the dashboard and started looking through little orange bottles of pills. "Ugh, it's not here" he mumbled checking his pockets and backpack. "Yeah, I have nothing in here, I gotta pick it up from home".

You sighed, and you were about to tell him to forget it, your hand reaching for the door handle, when he started the car and drove off. You looked at the school disappearing in the distance. Remus turned the radio on, a song by David Bowie started to diffuse from the speakers. "Fuck! It's hot in here" he took off his jacket and threw it on the backseats. His hair were sticking to the sides of his head, but he didn't seem to care, so you ignored it.

"Here we are" he said pulling into the driveway of what you supposed to be his house. "So, how much do you want?" "Uhm, I don't really know actually" "just tell me how much you want to smoke" you sighed "uhm, not too much I guess?" "aight" he said before getting out of the car and shutting the door.

Your mind started wandering, and for a moment you felt like leaving, what were you doing there anyway? You didn't notice Remus coming back until he opened the door. "Okay, you're all set" he threw a little bag at you. You weighted it in your hands. It wasn't too heavy nor too light. "It's like 10 pounds, you can pay me whenever, just try to do it at some point" you grabbed a pair of bills from your bag. "Perfect" Remus folded the money in his pocket.

"Do I take you to school and you go home from there?" "Sure" you watched the city move fast from the window. As Remus was pulling in the school parking lot you realized how stupid it all was. You didn't even know what to do with that weed.

You wet your lips "listen, it's my first time actually buying" you raised your voice, trying to speak over the music, Remus kept looking straight to the road "I can't even roll actually" you were torturing your fingers, feeling the blood flush your face "so, can you like roll it for me?" Remus shrugged "sure, it's fine, whatever" "you can smoke too, if you want, I mean just to pay you back" "sure, why not".

He turned the car around going in reverse and he exited the parking lot. "Wait...where are we going?" "We're not gonna smoke in the school parking lot, it's depressing". "Whatever" you thought to yourself, closing your eyes, letting him take you wherever he wanted as David Bowie's "changes" filled your ears.

The music cut off all of a sudden. You opened your eyes, Remus had stopped the car. You looked around. You were parked in front of a cliff, the city lights shining in front of you. The sun was starting to set in the distance. You smiled to yourself.

"Give me the bag" Remus started lining up the rolling papers and filters. You gave the weed to him, and then you kept looking at the sun setting as he rolled a joint. He was faster than you thought.

"Do you want to light it?" he said putting the joint in front of your face. You shrugged "sure". You lit the joint and took a long drag. As the smoke started setting on your chest you felt your brain clouding up. Finally a break from all those thoughts.

You and Remus kept passing the joint for a while, and drag after drag thick clouds of white smoke started to fill the car. By the time the spliff was over, you felt like a big weight had been lifted from your chest.

You started thinking about your boyfriend -well, ex-boyfriend, to be clear- what would he say? You, in Remus Lupin's old car, smoking weed with him. You giggled. Remus turned to you "What?" you shrugged, but you couldn't stop giggling, and soon you were laughing out loud. Remus looked confused, but after some time, a smile was forming on his lips.

For a moment you could feel liquid warmth filling up your chest. The smoke was dissolving slowly. You laid down on your seat, your giggles getting fainter. You felt light-headed and for a second it was as you were watching yourself from outside.

"You're fun to hang out with" Remus spoke all of a sudden, you smiled "you too". You didn't know if he was actually high, but at that point you didn't care, you just felt happy. "I never expected to be in this situation" you said, your words feeling distant, you weren't used to smoking.

"Yeah, me neither, I thought you didn't like me or something" you shrugged "I did thought I didn't like you too, but that was only because my friends and my ex didn't like you that much". Remus smirked "yeah? and why's that?" "I don't know, I guess its cause they think you're weird, and a loser and that you deal and all that crap" "yeah, that's all true, but there's nothing wrong with being weird, and a loser, and selling stuff" you looked at him, "there's a lot wrong with it for them".

You didn't spoke for a while, then Remus broke the silence. "So...your ex huh?" "yep..." "what went wrong with that adorable angel boy you dated?" you smirked "like…everything really" you sighed, Remus smiled faintly looking in the distance.

"I wonder what he'd think, knowing I'm here getting high with you" you mindlessly mumbled looking outside "he would think you're a weird loser who hangs out with dealers" you looked at Remus smiling "yeah, that's all true, but I don't think there's something wrong with it" Remus snickered.

You stayed in silence for some time. Your mind started wandering again, and you found yourself thinking about your ex, thinking about how alienating it all was, being with him, you didn't belong there anyway.

You almost spoke, but then you closed your mouth again, Remus noticed "What" "it's nothing" "no, tell me" "it's stupid" "my favorite kind of stuff". You looked at him, he was smiling "really?" he nodded "go on, I'm listening" you sighed "I was just thinking about how I've been feeling more comfortable here with you than with that asshole for the last 18 months" he stayed silent "what a waste" you mumbled.

Nobody spoke for some time, you turned to Remus. He was playing with his lighter. His honey curls fell messily on his half-lidded hazel eyes, his nose was covered in little freckles. His lips and cheeks were flushed. He looked warm.

"You're right" he finally spoke "about what" "it was such a waste" you sighed "yeah, I kinda had no choice after all, like…that's the best I can aim at, at least I had something to do I guess" "why would you even say this" you shrugged "it's not like boys are crazy about me anyway, so I have to compromise".

You kinda regretted that last sentence, you hated talking about your thoughts to people, you were scared they'd think you were fishing for compliments, but you actually believed that. Remus shook his head "yeah no shit, you're not gonna find people that will actually appreciate you if you aim to those assholes".

Those words set slowly into your brain. You started feeling sad again. You did waste a shit ton of time, except there wasn't even a good reason for it apparently. You did everything wrong. You almost felt like crying, but you chewed on the inside of your cheek until you calmed yourself down.

"I can't stand girls like you" Remus mumbled to himself "well, thanks a lot!" you responded sarcastically. Remus sighed "don't take it personal, but it's so stupid to settle down for a douchebag like your ex when you're actually a thousand times more cool and you could have whoever" you laughed "yeah, right, I can obviously have anyone" "well, maybe not anyone but actually cool people" "as in?" Remus shrugged "I don't know, as in interesting weird people, cool people, like you".

Your heart skipped a beat. It was almost like you could actually feel Remus thoughts in that moment. Suddenly, you just knew. He was thinking about how close you were all of a sudden, and how something could've happen between you. You were incredibly sure of it, cause you were thinking about the exact same thing.

Butterflies started filling up your guts. Your brain felt fuzzy for the smoke. You were looking in front of you, the sun was finally disappearing behind the buildings. You felt Remus eyes on you, your breath hitched for a moment. You turned to him, you didn't want to speak, and you didn't want to think about how hard it would've been, to actually be with someone like him.

You just thought about the warmth of your body, and so you decided to go for it. You closed your eyes shut and reached over to him, lightly kissing the side of his lips, your heart beating out of your chest. Before you could do anything Remus' tongue was pressing on your lips, so you just caved in. He deepened the kiss, his lips were warm, they tasted like smoke, they were bitter.

He was rough with it, fast, almost desperate, and as you reached over to bury your hands in his hair, his hand slid under your sweater. You weren't wearing a bra, and his skin was cold against your warm body. His fingers brushed on your breast, your breath hitched. He started groping your tits, his cold hands all over you, as you shivered and your skin covered in goosebumps, your nipples hardening, your head spinning.

"I bet that wanker didn't even know how to handle you" he whispered in your ear caressing you. Your ex did suck at that type of stuff, and every time you'd get intimate with him it was weird and uncomfortable. You wanted to cry again thinking about how you actually did everything wrong, everything. So you buried your hands deep, deeper in those locks, pushing his head close, closer to yours, to stop the thoughts.

The kiss became sloppy, messy, and the sound of your breaths filled the car. You pushed Remus to his seat, climbing on top of him. He snickered "christ" you immediately blushed, but you couldn't bring yourself to care, cause you were high, your head was spinning and the feeling of his hands on your waist was heavenly. So you just kept making out with him, pressing yourself on his lap.

His neck was sweaty, his hair a mess. "Wait" he mumbled taking his sweater off and throwing it behind him, you took off your jacket too. You lift up his shirt, his body was sticky with sweat, but it made him hotter somehow. His abdomen was smooth, pointy, his hipbones sticking out, a light strand of hair disappearing in his pants. You wanted to merge with him.

He slid a hand under your skirt, you weren't wearing tights, and as his cold fingers pressed on the warmth of your soft thighs you got goosebumps again. He looked up to you, his hazel eyes asking for permission, you just nodded, and kissed him, cause you were scared, and embarrassed.

He moved your panties to the side, his fingers sliding between your folds: they were slender, cold, they made you squirm. You were soaking wet, and you could feel Remus smiling with cockiness on your lips. "So hot" he mumbled in your mouth, your cheeks were burning with embarrassment and lust.

He started rubbing your clit, in agonizingly slow circles. You whimpered as he started to pick up his pace. You were feeling everything so intensely, and your body was melting. You hid in the crook of his neck, unable to hold the moans any longer.

"I knew it" he whispered "I knew that you were a freak" you bit your lip to hold a moan. His fingers locked in your hair, pulling you away from his neck. "Look at me" you were embarrassed, and painfully self aware, but you looked up at him.

You brushed his damp hair away from his forehead. He was actually far more beautiful than what he looked like usually, beneath those long messy hair, hiding in all those baggy clothes. You never noticed how handsome he was: his lips were swollen, slightly parted, flushed, his cheeks were red, his eyes bigger than ever, the hazel swallowed by the darkness of his dilated pupils. You inhaled his scent deeply, he smelled of smoke, some type of musky cologne and a faint scent of sweat.

You could feel his bulge pressing on your leg, and your hand immediately reached for his belt, but he grabbed your wrist "no, don't do anything" you looked at him in confusion, but he pressed his lips to yours, cursing under his breath as you whined in pleasure.

He was going faster and faster, and his touch started to feel rougher. Your brain was going blank, the warmth spreading throughout your entire body. He groped your tits roughly, making you whimper. He gathered your slick and shoved it inside you with two slender fingers, you let out a surprised moan, as he started going in and out slowly.

You moaned louder, throwing your head back, Remus smirked "he really had no idea how to treat you, did he?" the warmth was filling up your guts as he kept talking. "Keep going" you whimpered "greedy girl" he teased. His fingers were sliding in and out of you, his thumb drawing circles on your clit.

You felt the climax approaching, so you tried kissing his neck, wanting to hide in the crook of his neck again, but he stopped you "No, stop, I want to see you, look at me". You didn't want to look at him, but he was slowing down, and you really needed him to keep going, so you caved in and looked at him, he was biting his lip, as he picked up the pace again.

"I wonder what they'd think" his eyes had darkened completely, a wolfish grin curving his lips "your ex and your friends, if they knew" you moaned, your hands tugging his hair. "If they knew that you're here, getting fingerfucked by a fucking loser like me" he kissed your neck, biting it lightly, licking the bruises that were forming on the sensitive skin.

"What would they think, huh?" he looked up at you, breathing heavily "if they knew that you don't actually belong with them, but you belong here, with weird losers like me" your legs started shaking, your moans getting louder "and that you actually love to be here with weird losers like me, and that I can do things to you that he could only dream about".

You whimpered, "are you close?" you nodded "cum for me" he whispered in your ear, you closed your eyes "no, look at me, look at me while I make you cum" you opened your eyes, feeling a wave of pleasure take over you, his fingers getting impossibly faster, your whole body burning with pleasure.

You cried out a moan "yeah, that's it, be a good girl and cum for me, make a mess on my fingers like the dirty little freak you are" those words sent you over the edge, your mind went blank. You came with a strangled cry, looking at his dark eyes, your legs shaking with pleasure.

His fingers pumped in and out of you a few more times, as you came down from your high. You closed your eyes as the pleasure overwhelmed you, a thousand times more intense because of the weed.

Remus kept you on his lap, holding your waist steadily, his fingertips pressed on your soft skin. When you reopened your eyes Remus was flushed, and he was smiling "and you thought you didn't like me huh", you smiled back, pressing your lips on his.

[toxicanonymity]

the condom.

Javi P x f!reader x Steve Murphy | 1k words | masterlist

WARNINGS: 18+ real nasty pwp. toxic mean javi, implied angst, heavy degradation, gaping, cumplay, dubcon breeding, daddy kink.

Javi gives you the old, “we were never official.”

“So I can fuck someone else, too?” You ask.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he tilts his head and gives you those big, condescending eyes. “you know I don't share, right?” He gently lifts your chin and chuckles at your scowl. “How's this," he offers. "Do what you want, and we’ll see what happens.”

“You just said you don't share,” you remind him.

“Maybe I do,” he shrugs. “Won't know unless you try it.” He smooths his mustache. “who knows “ he muses, “Maybe it'll turn me on.”

He takes your hand and puts it on the front of his jeans.

He's stiff.

“How many narcos could you take in one night?” he asks, and massages himself with your hand. “Take them two at a time?” His cock swells, tightening his already straining jeans.

“I’d never fuck a narco!” You protest.

“but you're talking like you want to,” he challenges.

“No I wasn't,” you shake your head. He tightens his hand around your jaw.

“Do it,” he challenges, then lowers his voice. “See if I want that dirty, used-up cunt.”

His fingers squeeze into the hollows of your cheeks and you open your mouth to accept his spit.

He elongates his torso as he gets his wallet out of his tight jeans. “Here,” he says as he opens it.

He tosses a strip of small foil packages to you.

Something you'd never seen him wear.

��-----

“How d’you think he’d feel if it was you?” You ask Steve, sitting on his knee after he's dried your tears.

He’d gotten you to laugh by musing about which narco you could fuck and where. It kept getting more detailed, and the chuckles became more sparse. “He could fold ya right in half, stuff ya like a turkey,” he’d finished with a low whistle, then got lost in his thoughts. “If ya can take it, that is,” he added in a low voice. His eyes scanned your body and he sucked in air through his nose as he moved his hand just an inch up your thigh. “Think ya can take a big ol’ cock, even bigger than jav?” He'd asked.

“How much bigger?” You'd asked.

“Guess ya’d have to find out,” Steve cooed.

And thus your question.

“Hm," Steve's brow furrows. “you plannin’ on tellin'?”

“You wouldn't tell?” you ask, hardly believing you've arrived at this possibility.

“Hell no,” Steve confirms and slides his hand up your thigh. "Mmm," he hums at a low pitch as his hand nears the humid heat between your legs.

“You want this dick, is that what I'm hearin’?” He looks down at the hard shape in his pants then reads your eyes. You reach for the thick, hard bratwurst visible down his inseam.

A zap of need makes you nod.

—-

Javi gets home less than an hour after Steve leaves. You're fresh out of the shower but haven't had a chance to take out the trash.

“You're clean,” Javi observes with a skeptical arch of one eyebrow.

“Don't you like me clean?” You ask.

“Open,” his hand on your jaw makes you open his mouth. He looks you over carefully, and his nostrils twitch.

“on the bed. All fours,” he commands. He lifts up your dress and pulls down your panties. Before he touches you, he pulls the panties all the way off and sniffs them before throwing them aside.

He gets down on his knees to examine your cunt. “Well someone fucked you wide open,” he notes.

“Javi…” you protest, unsure what to say

He works three fingers into your hole and it burns without enough lube.

“Bet I could fit my whole hand,” he muses, but withdraws his fingers and leaves you gaping.

“I can see your cervix,” he says. “Must’ve been one big cock. You were smart, though. I can smell the latex.” You look back at him, cheeks burning. His nostrils flare and he draws in a chest full of air. “I've got one guess,” he mutters as he stands up. He goes to the restroom and fishes the used condom out of the trash. Full of Steve and still slippery.

Javi returns, sniffing the condom. “You fucked my partner,” he observes a little too calmly with a raise of his eyebrows. He unfurls the condom, lifts it up to the light, and tilts it, admiring the liquid as it moves under the translucent tan.

Javi holds the rim of the condom gently between his teeth as he swiftly takes off his belt and pulls his jeans down. He stands, cock erect, and takes the condom from his mouth.

Javi pumps his cock a few times and demands, “how'd you do it?”

You put yourself face down, ass-up.”

“Like that?” He asks. He's sweating and his heart rate is up.

You nod.

He nods like he's impressed. Sarcasm. The sweet stench of cum draws your eyes to crotch level, where Javi is suiting up in Steve's condom, inside-out.

Your mouth is shape and your face is cold. The latex wrapping Javi's cock is coated in his partner's cream. He pumps himself, fist gliding over the cum, spreading it evenly along his shaft.

“What are you doing?” You ask.

“Told you it might turn me on,” he answers. “Never wanted to breed someone so bad.”

“What?” You ask. “Javi, this is–”

He kneels onto the bed and gets behind you. “Yeah, he's got a real big one,” Javi says as he lines himself up at your tired hole. He pushes his cum-coated length into you and says, “real big.”

He withdraws enough length to admire steve’s cum creeping out of your hole, then slams his hips into you. He pulls on your hips as he fucks you harder. “Daddy Murphy,” he says. “Hope he shows up for you,” his words hop to the rhythm of his thrusts. He gasps and sighs. “Yeah…. Just like that,” he coos, admiring his work where your bodies are joined. Cum is frothing out around his cock as he pounds you. “put a baby in you,” he says, “oh, baby.” The smell of cum and latex is heavy in the air. “When your belly starts to grow,” he pants, “you gonna tell him he's daddy?”

You moan in response.

“Who's daddy?” Javi asks.

“You are,” you reply as a reflex.

“And who else?” He asks

“Steve,” you reply.

“That's right,” Javi pants. “Can't wait to see your tits grow,” he gushes, “watch him watch you filling out…” he pulls you back hard and slams into you, bottoming out deep as he cums.

He lets you collapse onto the bed and pulls out of your wrecked pussy. The condom is ripped and froth is everywhere.

“Guess it turned me on after all ” he admits. “I'll run you a shower.”

----

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Thank you so much for reading! If you liked it, please consider leaving a comment. I need all the dope(amine) I can get rn. Love y'all! ♥️

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Trying this ~

[hereforuconnwbb]

The Study of Us - CHAPTER 7

paige x azzi (pazzi)

au fic!

word count: 6.4k

warning: language

hey gangggggg so sorry this took a bit of time to do but as ive said ive been busy with life js lifeing and don't have time to write but have gotten time over the last few days to finally write and i actually missed it smmmm😭 but abt this chapter, its nth fun js boring stuff and i feel like ive just left it a bit incomplete at the end bc im getting tired now and just wanted to post smtg before i sleep but um hopefully next chapter i can plan smth to make it less boring 🤞🏽 feel free to leave suggestions for future chapters !!! hopefully its alr but ty guys for being patient 🫶🏽 hope u guys enjoy.

‼️‼️this wasn’t edited

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Paige’s phone buzzed near her head, dragging her up from her sleep. She squinted at the screen with 1 eye open, groaning softly as she rolled onto her back and brought it closer. It was 8:13 am and there was a string of notis from Azzi that lit up the screen.

Azzi: mornin :)

Azzi: u up ?

Azzi: feel like grabbing coffee at the cafe before class ?

The corner of Paige’s mouth tugged up before she even finished reading the last message. She stared at the screen for a second, the sleep still heavy in her, but already she was sitting up.

She ran a hand over her face, still smiling, and messaged back.

Paige: yo bet js gimme 10, i will meet u there

She tossed the blankets off and pulled herself out of bed.

She threw on a white UConn basketball shirt along with one of her favorite grey Nike trackies, then paused by the mirror. Her hair went up into a ponytail. She ran a brush through it quickly, then again, just to be sure. She stared at her reflection for a second, smoothing the front of her shirt and tugging at the hem like it would help somehow. It wasn’t like this was a date or anything. Still, her cheeks felt warm.

She sighed, rolled her eyes at herself, and mumbled, “Get it together p” before finally turning to her duffel bag. She unzipped it just to double-check that her prac gear and shoes were packed neatly inside, tucked between her crocs and a rolled-up hoodie in case it got cold later throughout the day. Satisfied, she slung the bag over her shoulder and headed out the door.

By the time she stepped outside her phone buzzed.

Azzi: i js got here btw

Paige: bet bet im walking now. 5 min max

Azzi was waiting near the cafe entrance, leaned up against the wall just beside the door, her phone in one hand. After a few mins she looked up as Paige approached, and the small grin that spread across her face made Paige feel like she’d just won something.

She looked good. So so good. Her baby pink sweatshirt was soft and slightly oversized, sleeves pulled over her hands. Her jeans were loose, cuffed a little above her ankles. Her hair was pulled up in a high bun, wisps of curls falling around her face like they were supposed to be there.

“Hey.” Azzi said, smile easy, eyes soft.

“Hey.” Paige replied, not slowing until she was close enough to pull Azzi into a hug.

It was natural now. Azzi’s arms went around her like she’d been waiting for it. Paige’s went around her waist, chin brushing her shoulder for a moment. Neither of them said anything while they hugged.

When they pulled back, Azzi looked like she hadn’t stopped smiling. “I almost thought you’d still be asleep.”

“I almost was,” Paige admitted, her hand gently brushing against Azzi’s elbow as they walked inside, “but I wasn’t about to pass up coffee with you.”

They stepped into the cafe, the sounds of the machines and quiet conversation filling the air around them. Paige’s hand drifted lightly to Azzi’s back as they moved toward the line.

Near the back, half-tucked behind a tall plant and trying very hard to act casual, KK and Ice had been mid-conversation with their drinks when Ice nudged KK, eyes wide.

“Is that—”

“Bro. Yes,” KK whispered.

They both ducked lower behind their corner booth, trying to be stealthy as Ice started filming the exact moment Paige casually placed her hand on Azzi’s back. They didn’t even notice.

KK: yooooo look at p boogers, broski is WHIPPED

KK: they’re literally flirting in line BDHJIHJKDHHSA

Aubrey: huh wym ?? whos flirting in line ?

Aubrey: whats wrong w paige

Caroline: ???

Ice: video attachment  

Ice: bro got her hand on azzi’s back like its nth  👀

Caroline: OOOOOOHHHHHHH SHITTTTT BDHAHBSAHHSHA

Aubrey: 😭😭😭 TS CRAZYYYYYY

Caroline: ugh theyre literally so gay literally definition of gay

KK: bro she’s got HEART EYES, i swearrrrr manee

Aubrey: p looks SOOOO soft for her

Caroline: i bet she’s already planning their wedding 😈

Meanwhile, Paige and Azzi were still deep in their own world. After they ordered, Paige immediately handed over her card before Azzk could even blink.

“You don’t have to pay,” Azzi said, almost pouting.

“Yea, but I want to,” Paige shrugged. “I’m not gonna let you pay for coffee when I invited you.”

“Wait, what do you mean? You didn’t invite me, I invited you.”

“Exactly. So I’m being polite.”

Azzi rolled her eyes but didn’t argue more. “You’re annoying.”

“You like it,” Paige said, a smirk playing on her lips.

Azzi tried not to smile at that, but it was hopeless.

They took a spot near the windows, sliding into one of the booths. Paige sat on the right, and Azzi automatically sat beside her instead of across. She curled slightly into Paige’s side without thinking. Paige’s arm slid around her shoulders like it was routine.

Azzi looked down at her cup, cheeks faintly pink. “You’re always so warm.”

“I run hot,” Paige said, taking a sip. “It’s a skill.”

Azzi bumped her shoulder gently. “A useful one.”

Their knees brushed under the table, and neither moved. Paige’s thumb idly traced a circle over Azzi’s shoulder through the fabric of her sweatshirt while they talked about random class stuff, how tired they were and other stuff about the upcoming tets.

Azzi leaned into her more as they sat, her voice softer now, “Thanks again. For last night.”

“For murdering your texts?” Paige said. “Anytime.”

Azzi laughed into her cup, eyes crinkling at the corners. “No, I mean just everything. It was a good day yesterday. Even when the two crashers came out of nowhere. ”

Paige looked at her for a second, her chest aching a little in that annoying, fluttery way it always did around her. She didn’t say anything. Just smiled, arm tightening slightly around Azzi’s shoulder.

Azzi glanced up at her, eyes flicking to Paige’s mouth and back without meaning to.

Paige noticed. But she didn’t say a word.

From behind the plant, Ice and KK exchanged silent screams, mouthing oh my god at the same time.

Azzi leaned her head briefly into Paige’s shoulder again, soft and easy. Paige didn’t move. She just sat there, coffee in one hand, the girl she really liked tucked into her side, pretending her heart wasn’t currently punching its way through her ribs.

Eventually, their drinks were empty and their hands were just wrapped around lukewarm cups, neither of them making a move to stand.

“We should probably go,” Azzi mumbled, though she made no move to leave Paige’s side.

Paige sighed dramatically. “Yeah, I guess if we want to survive death-by-math.”

Azzi let out a soft laugh, sitting up a little but still leaning into her. “You act like numbers are out to kill you.”

“They are,” Paige groaned, flopping her head back against the couch. “Every equation is a personal attack.”

Azzi smiled, brushing her hand lightly over Paige’s arm. “Good thing I’m here to protect you, then.”

Paige cracked one eye open, grinning. “My math bodyguard ?”

“Exactly,” Azzi said, nudging her playfully. “Armed with equations and the will to drag your dramatic ass through linear algebra.”

They stood, gathering their bags. Azzi pulled on her sleeve, tugging it back over her hand as they stepped into the morning light. The walk to class wasn’t far, just across campus, but they stayed close, brushing shoulders every so often as they moved.

“I’m glad we did this,” Azzi said quietly, gaze down at the sidewalk.

Paige glanced over at her, a lazy, warm smile tugging at her lips. “Me too.”

They reached the building, pushing through the heavy door as students flooded in around them. Paige held it open for Azzi, earning a small smirk from her.

“Such a gentlewoman” Azzi teased, bumping her shoulder against Paige’s as she walked in

“Don’t get used to it,” Paige shot back, but she was still smiling.

Inside the room, the class was already half-full, the usual scattered clusters of students hunched over desks or chatting. Azzi made her way toward her usual spot that was mid-left row, beside Caroline while Paige headed for the back right corner next to Aubrey.

As soon as Paige dropped her bag beside her seat, Aubrey turned to her, raising both eyebrows.

“So,” she said slowly, “anything you wanna share ?”

Paige blinked. “Huh ?”

“You and Azzi. Cafe. This morning.”

Paige froze, halfway through pulling out her laptop. “Wait, how do you even know that ?”

Aubrey grinned, waving her phone. “kk and ice.”

Paige’s face went hot. “You’re kidding.”

“Buddy,” Aubrey said, spinning the screen toward her. “do I look like I’m kidding ?”

The video was low-angle and grainy but unmistakably them with her hand resting on Azzi’s back, Azzi leaning into her. Her stomach twisted in that mix of affection and horror. “Oh my gosh.”

“We  basically declared you guys the campus gay power couple,” Aubrey added.

Across the room, Caroline was saying almost the exact same thing.

“You and Paige, huh ?” she said, nudging Azzi as she pulled out a pen.

Azzi blinked. “What ?”

Caroline lifted her phone, holding it up with a smug look. “kk and ice were literally hiding behind a plant. They sent me and Aubrey a video. You two looked pre cozy.”

Azzi stared at her. “Wait how did they even—”

“Spying,” Caroline said, deadpan. “They’ve got eyes everywhere.”

Azzi buried her face in her hands for a second. “Geeeeez bruh.”

“Don’t worry,” Caroline said sweetly. “It was cute. P got that golden retriever energy and you got that soft princess energy.”

Azzi groaned louder.

That’s when the door creaked open again, and Jace strutted in. He dropped into the seat directly in front of Azzi without even looking back.

“So,” he started loudly, twisting slightly in his seat, “you just gonna block me ? Like that ?”

Azzi’s whole body tensed.

“I mean, damn Azzi,” Jace went on, turning fully now. “After everything like the sessions I kept you entertained while you were tutoring me. Cold, man. Cold.”

Caroline immediately leaned forward. “What in the absolute bullshit, maybe take the hint and shut up.”

He ignored her and turned back around. “And that last message ? To what ? Stop texting you, was it ? What even was that ?”

Azzi stared at the back of his head, jaw tight. “It wasnt—”

She stopped herself. She wasn’t about to explain that it wasn’t even her who sent the message. Or that she had no regrets about allowing Paige to block him.

He kept going. “I’m just saying, you don’t gotta be so rude. You were acting all sweet before like you actually wanted to help me.”

Azzi turned her head toward the window, trying to tune him out. Caroline pulled out her phone.

A second later, Paige’s phone lit up.

Caroline: p switch seats w me pls. jace the dumbass is not letting up and azzi looks like she wants to punch him. 

Without hesitation, Paige stood, grabbing her stuff. She walked down the aisle, eyes locked on Caroline, who was already halfway up. They wordlessly passed each other, Caroline giving Paige a tight nod and smirk before sliding into the back next to Aubrey.

Paige dropped into the seat beside Azzi and leaned back casually, draping an arm over the back of Azzi’s chair. Then she slid her hand up to her shoulder and tugged her closer gently.

Azzi blinked, startled for a second but she didn’t resist. She let herself lean in and shifted her chair a little closer to Paige.

Paige stared straight ahead as she spoke, flat and sharp.

“Hey Jace ?”

He turned, expression smug.

Paige gave him a blank look. “Shut the fuck up.”

His smirk faded. “Bruh what ?”

“You heard me,” Paige said, her arm still around Azzi. “You’re so fucken loud, annoying, and nobody wants to hear your whiny ass complain about not getting free tutoring after being a creep.”

Jace scoffed. “Creep ? I—”

“Yea buddy,” Paige snapped, leaning forward a little. “I read your messages. All of them. I was the one who was messaging you and blocked you. Lucky I didn’t send worse.”

Jace looked like he might argue but one glance at Paige’s sharp expression and he backed off with a mutter, turning in his seat.

Silence settled around them. Caroline and Aubrey shared a look from the back.

Paige leaned back, hand still lightly resting on Azzi’s shoulder.

Azzi’s lips parted like she wanted to say something, but then she just closed them again and leaned into Paige’s side more.

“Thank you,” she said softly instead.

Paige’s thumb brushed her shoulder gently. “Anytime.”

They stayed like that, quietly tucked into each other, as Caroline turned around slightly and mouthed holy shit at Aubrey while she was filming from her seat, whispering into her phone camera.

—------------------------------------

The class continued on as if nothing had happened, but the air between Paige and Azzi felt different now. Paige’s arm stayed draped over Azzi’s shoulder, casual but firm, as she scribbled notes the professor was going through with her other hand. Every now and then, she would give Azzi a little squeeze or rub her thumb against her shoulder, and Azzi would shift slightly, the smallest of shivers running through her. Paige noticed, and though she kept her attention on the professor, her grin was quiet and knowing.

Meanwhile, Aubrey and Caroline, seated a few rows behind them, exchanged a knowing look, their eyes flicking between Paige and Azzi. Caroline leaned in, her voice low, though the grin on her face made it hard to keep the tone entirely serious.

“Ok, so that happened.” Caroline whispered, glancing at Azzi and Paige, whose fingers were still subtly brushing along Azzi’s arm. “They were basically kissing each other with their eyes when Jace started talking. I thought they were gonna combust right there.”

Aubrey, equally amused, whispered back, “I don’t know, but they definitely look a little cozy.” Her eyes sparkled as she watched the subtle way Paige’s hand moved down Azzi’s arm, still casually slung over her shoulder. “And don’t think I forgot about that photo I took last night,” she added, smirking.

Caroline blinked. “Wait, what photo ?”

“You know the one from last night.” Aubrey leaned in, her voice dropping. “The one where they were both asleep, tangled up on the couch at Azzi’s place ? Azzi practically had her face buried in Paige’s neck. They were wrapped in a blanket, holding each other like it was nothing.”

Caroline tried to stifle a laugh, eyes wide. “Oh my God. How did I forget about that ? Is that really how they’re gonna do this ? Just silently falling in love by embracing together?”

Aubrey grinned. “And we have it on camera. Don’t think it won’t get shown to the others later”

Caroline shook her head, hiding her smile behind her hand. “This is gonna be absolute chaos.”

Meanwhile, Paige’s attention was split between the lecture, which she was half-listening to, and Azzi. Her arm, still around Azzi’s shoulder, had gradually started to move slowly, subtly. It was a gentle massage, her fingers pressing into Azzi’s skin, a rhythmic movement that didn’t go unnoticed. Azzi, who had been trying to concentrate on the lecture, couldn’t help but flinch with every little movement Paige made. It wasn’t rough, it was just affectionate in a way that made her feel warmer than she expected.

Every time Paige’s fingers brushed against her skin, she felt her heart skip just a little bit faster. And yet, every time Azzi glanced over at Paige, she couldn’t help but look away quickly, biting back the smile that wanted to spread across her face. She could feel the tension between them shifting, but she couldn’t exactly name it except that it was undeniably there.

From the row in front of them, Jace couldn’t take his eyes off them. He kept turning his head back, glancing over his shoulder every few seconds, his eyes narrowed in disbelief. Paige caught him doing it once and shot him a hard look, her arm still draped over Azzi’s shoulder as if the gesture was as natural as breathing.

Jace smirked, leaning back in his chair with an exaggerated stretch, before sneering at them. “What, are you two, like, attached now ?” His voice was loud enough for the people around them to hear. “Basically on top of each other, whispering sweet nothings in class ? What’s next, holding hands in the hallways ? Honestly I wouldn’t be surprised.”

Azzi stiffened, but Paige’s grip on her shoulder tightened just slightly, a silent reassurance that she wasn’t going anywhere.

Paige’s voice was low. “If you say one more word Jace, I swear I’m going to throw my chair at you.” She let the threat hang in the air for a moment before adding, “And don’t even think about looking back at us again, you dumbass.”

Jace’s smirk faltered, but he quickly regained his cocky attitude. “What’s your problem ? Genuinely asking.”

Paige raised an eyebrow, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Oh, I think you know what my problem is bud. You’re an asshole. And you’re somehow under the delusion that we give a fuck about what you think.”

He opened his mouth to say something, but the look Paige shot his way made him think twice. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, finally turning around and focusing on the professor.

Paige rolled her eyes, muttering to herself as she leaned into Azzi just a little more. Her fingers traced over the back of Azzi’s neck now, massaging the soft skin just behind her ear. The small, deliberate movements of her hand were enough to make Azzi shiver again, her breath catching slightly as she adjusted in her seat.

“I swear,” Paige muttered. “This guy has no concept of personal space or boundaries.”

Azzi couldn’t help it. She finally let herself laugh, a soft, almost nervous sound, her face still a little flushed. “You’re too much, Paige.”

Paige’s smile softened as she shifted her arm to rub more firmly against Azzi’s shoulder. “I know, but I’m pre sure you like it.”

Azzi, her face a mix of bashful and amused, ducked her head a little, resisting the urge to smile wider. She could feel the heat in her chest spreading, especially with Paige so close, her hand still making slow, deliberate circles on her skin.

Aubrey, still trying to keep it together from behind, whispered loud enough for Caroline to hear. “Honestly, I think Paige is trying to kill Jace with some new strategy. I aint even know what it is.”

Caroline snickered. “Jace needs to watch out. Paige’s charm is lethal.”

Meanwhile, Jace was still occasionally glancing back, his eyes narrowing further each time he saw Paige and Azzi so close, the arm that was still resting around Azzi’s shoulder almost possessively. Finally, after a few more moments of frustration, he couldn’t hold it back anymore. He spun around in his chair once again, catching Paige’s eye.

“Ok seriously, stop staring at me like that. You’re making me uncomfortable,” he muttered, as though the idea of being intimidated by Paige was beneath him.

Paige raised an eyebrow, not a hint of hesitation in her voice. “You know what, Jace? You should be uncomfortable. You’re the last person I want to deal with right now.”

Azzi’s breath hitched at Paige’s words, the way she so easily stood up for herself. Her stomach flipped, and her heart raced, but she kept her face neutral, forcing herself to stay focused on the notes in front of her. Yet, she couldn’t stop herself from stealing a glance at Paige’s confident expression.

—------------------------------------

The final 10 minutes of class went by, but Paige and Azzi barely noticed. Azzi had grown more comfortable with the contact, leaning into it slightly, and while her cheeks still burned every now and then from the closeness, she no longer shied away. If anything, she found herself anticipating the soft press of Paige’s fingertips, the calm, steady rhythm that somehow helped her concentrate now better than anything else.

Behind them, Aubrey leaned into Caroline again, her voice now urgent with energy. “Okok, we have to go. Like, now.”

Caroline’s eyes sparkled. “We need to find KK and Ice immediately.”

Neither of them didn’t even wait for Paige or Azzi. Aubrey grabbed her bag, nearly knocking her notebook off the desk in the process. “Let’s move. I’ve got the video saved.”

Caroline was already halfway to the door. “Let’s just say this might be better than the couch photo.”

The 2 of them dashed out of the room, barely stifling their laughter as they disappeared into the hallway, leaving the classroom noticeably quieter.

Paige tilted her head slightly, brow raised in mild suspicion. “What the hell was that about?”

Azzi just smiled, eyes still on her notes. “I don’t even want to know. You’d probably chase them down.”

Paige grinned. “Yea probs.”

They didn’t get up right away. The lecture was over, but they remained in their seats, the sound of shuffling notebooks and murmuring classmates fading until the room had emptied. Paige slowly retracted her arm, giving Azzi space as she leaned forward on the desk, stretching her back. Her hand absently rubbed at her temple. “Ok. So like. Linear algebra still feels like rocket science.”

Azzi’s lips quirked. “That’s because you’re trying to think of it like math instead of movement.”

Paige blinked at her. “What ?”

Azzi shifted in her seat, turning toward her slightly, eyes thoughtful. “Ok, so hear me out.” She tapped her pen on Paige’s notebook. “Vectors, right ? Think of them as passing lanes on the court. You’re here” she drew a little dot labeled P “and your teammate’s over here” another dot labeled T.  “The ball has to move in a straight line from you to them. That’s a vector.”

Paige leaned closer, her brow furrowing with curiosity. “Ok yea… that actually kind of makes sense.”

Azzi smiled. “And linear transformations are just… changes in the way the court behaves. Imagine the floor gets tilted. The path between you and your teammate changes. Maybe it’s easier to pass left, harder to go right. That’s how matrix multiplication works—it changes all the passing lanes.”

Paige stared at her for a moment, visibly stunned. “Wait. That’s… actually kinda genius.”

Azzi shrugged, cheeks pinking slightly under the praise. “It’s just how I think about it. It makes it easier to visualise. I will get into detail with different areas when we have more sessions.”

Paige was still watching her, something soft and warm brewing behind her eyes. “That’s why you’re such a good tutor,” she said, voice quiet. “You don’t just explain the math. You connect it to stuff people actually care about.”

Azzi looked down at her lap, trying not to smile too widely. “Well… I care if you pass.”

That sentence landed heavier than Azzi expected, and the silence that followed was different now full, charged, delicate. Paige opened her mouth, hesitated, then closed it again. Her fingers twitched slightly against her book.

Before either of them could say more, a voice from the front of the room cut through the air.

“Miss Bueckers ?”

They both looked up. Their professor was standing at the front of the room, his hands loosely clasped over a stack of folders.

“Yes, sir ?” Paige straightened up quickly.

“I just wanted to make sure you saw my email last night,” he said, stepping a little closer, his voice dropping to a more private tone. “The one about eligibility. I know Coach is watching those grades pretty closely.”

Paige gave a quick nod. “Yea, I saw it. I’m on it.”

The professor glanced between the 2 of them and at the open notebooks, the way Paige had shifted closer, the way Azzi hadn’t stopped watching her even while he spoke. His smile warmed.

“Good,” he said, then paused just long enough for them to notice. “And whatever this is ?” He motioned vaguely to the 2 of them, his tone light but full of meaning. “It seems to be working.”

Paige blinked. Azzi turned red.

“Oh,” Paige said, her voice suddenly higher. “Um uh, yea, no, were just—she’s tutoring me. It’s tutoring.”

Azzi nodded quickly. “Mhm, strictly academic.”

The professor gave a slow nod, lips twitching. “Of course. Welp, keep up the… good academic collaboration.”

And with that, he walked out.

The door clicked shut behind him.

They both sat frozen for a beat, the air thick with embarrassment and something warmer.

Paige let out a breath, half a laugh, half a groan. “Did he just…”

Azzi buried her face in her hands. “Oh my god. He totally thinks we’re—”

“Dating,” Paige finished for her, grinning as she leaned back in her seat, one leg bouncing. “He definitely thinks we’re dating.”

Azzi peeked out from behind her hands. “That’s embarrassing.”

Paige laughed, reaching over to nudge her knee gently with her own. “Or… flattering.”

Azzi raised an eyebrow, caught between flustered and intrigued. “Flattering?”

“I mean,” Paige shrugged, smiling lazyly. “You could do worse.”

Azzi stared at her, heart pounding. “Are you flirting with me ?”

“Hmmmmm I don’t know,” Paige said, still smiling, but there was something gentler in her voice now. “Am I?”

Azzi didn’t answer right away. She just looked at her, really looked at the way Paige’s fingers had started tapping lightly against the edge of the desk again, the way her eyes held just a little more softness than mischief now.

“No comment,” Azzi murmured, cheeks pink, her voice barely above a whispwr.

She shifted in her seat, feeling the warmth of the moment linger between them, like the soft afterglow of a nearly confessed truth. The quiet in the room seemed to stretch around them, and she took a deep breath, realising that they had both lingered long enough to notice the space that had shifted in the air between them. A gentle push of Paige’s knee against hers pulled her back from the thoughts swirling in her mind.

“Alright,” Paige finally sighed, her voice taking on a more normal tone as she pushed herself upright, stretching her arms above her head with a tired groan. “Let’s go. We’re not getting anything done here anymore.”

Azzi nodded, her fingers brushing across the open notebook in front of her one last time. She caught Paige’s glance as she reached for her bag, both of them hesitating for just a moment too long before standing up together. They moved in sync as they made their way toward the door, a quiet rhythm in their footsteps as they passed through the emptying classroom.

As they stepped into the hallway, the low hum of the campus still alive in the background, Azzi glanced at Paige, her voice soft. “So, when’s your next game?”

Paige tilted her head slightly, a small smile tugging at her lips. “This time next week,” she said, looking a little distant for a moment. “But I’m leaving Friday a few hours after the test. It’s an away game.” She met Azzi’s eyes then, her gaze direct but soft. 

Azzi nodded slowly, her fingers tapping lightly against the strap of her bag. “Well, you’ll need to focus on that test then. You sure you’re ready?”

Paige grinned. “Not even a little. But I’ve got you, right ?”

Azzi smiled back, feeling a flutter in her chest. She was already reaching for the next logical step, the next way to help. “What if we studied every day till the test? I’ll help you, make sure you pass this thing. It’s not just a math test, right? It’s everything leading up to it. You’ll need all the help you can get.”

Paige raised an eyebrow, impressed and touched by Azzi’s determination. “You really want to do that ? Every day ?”

Azzi’s cheeks went pink slightly, but she didn’t hesitate. “Yeah. Well if you want to… But I’m serious. You can’t afford to fail this one. I’ll be here for you. I won’t let you miss anything.”

Paige couldn’t help but feel a soft warmth fill her chest at the thought. Her voice was quieter now, her words more sincere. “I appreciate that. I’ll need it, honestly. With everything going on, I don’t have much headspace for this test. But you ? You seem to make it easier.”

Azzi gave her a quick smile, trying to hide the feeling of her heart racing. “Good. Then it’s a plan. We’ll study every day till Friday.”

Before Paige could say anything more, a familiar voice interrupted, and both of them turned to find Aubrey, Caroline, KK, and Ice walking toward them, their chatter growing louder as they approached.

Aubrey practically skipped up to them, her grin wide. “There you two are. We were looking everywhere for you !”

Caroline raised an eyebrow, her gaze flicking between Azzi and Paige, a knowing smile tugging at her lips. “What were you two doing in there? You’ve been in that room for quite some time.”

Azzi and Paige exchanged a quick look, both of them blushing, but neither said anything, the unspoken truth still hovering in the air between them.

Aubrey didn’t seem to care about their hesitation. “We got something for you.” She pulled her phone from her pocket with a grin that was way too mischievous. “Remember last night?”

Paige froze, her breath catching in her throat. “What… what are you talking about?”

Aubrey’s grin grew wider. “You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

Caroline leaned in, her voice lower now, as if making sure no one else could overhear. “We’ve got a picture.”

Azzi’s eyes widened slightly as her gaze flickered nervously between Paige and the phone Aubrey was holding up. “A picture?”

“Yeah,” Aubrey said, her grin turning into something teasing. “A cute one.”

She tapped through her screen, and suddenly, a photo appeared on the screen—one of Paige and Azzi, curled up together asleep on the couch from last night. 

Azzi’s breath hitched, and she couldn’t stop herself from looking at the photo, her stomach twisting. The image was so intimate, so casual in a way that made her feel exposed. She looked over at Paige, her heart hammering. Paige, too, was staring at the photo, her face a mixture of surprise and something else—something soft and a little bit embarrassed.

“Why did you even—” Paige started, her voice a little higher than usual.

Aubrey raised an eyebrow. “You think we weren’t watching you two? Come on, it was cute. Just look at how you were both out like lights. We had to capture it. It was a must.”

Azzi cleared her throat, her cheeks burning. “This is definitely not what it looks like.”

Carolinr gave her a look. “Oh, it looks exactly like what it is.”

KK and Ice were both quiet for once, exchanging glances but not saying anything. The 4 of them knew what the picture meant and what it implied. But Azzi and Paige were still caught in their own tangled feelings, none of them willing to admit the truth out loud yet.

Aubrey was the one to break the silence, her voice light but teasing. “So, when do you two want to make this official ? Or should we keep this little secret to ourselves?”

Paige shot her a glare, her smile still present but strained. “Oh my days shut up, Aubrey.”

Azzi ducked her head, her heart beating faster. “We—uh… we’re just—”

Caroline waved her off. “No need to explain. We know. But seriously. You two are adorable.”

There was a long beat of silence before Azzi finally raised her eyes to meet Paige’s. The weight of the conversation, of the feelings neither of them were ready to name, hung in the space between them.

The moment passed quickly, though, as Paige gave a shrug and turned to the group. “Alright, alright. Enough with the teasing. We’ve got stuff to do.”

Azzi nodded, feeling a strange sense of finality to the conversation. Her heart thumped in her chest as they began walking toward the stairs. But as they moved in tandem, closer now than they’d ever been, Azzi couldn’t help but wonder if something would shift.

—------------------------------------

As the teasing settled into warm laughter and light conversation, the group slowly began to drift apart, lulled by the gentle pull of their schedules.

“I swear, if Coach keeps pausing every five seconds to lecture, I might actually fall asleep with my eyes open,” Caroline groaned, slinging her bag over her shoulder.

“He’s definitely gonna do it,” KK said with a sigh. “Gramps loves a lil dramatic pause.”

Ice snorted. “Y’all better prepare yourself now. You know he’s sending us straight to weights after like emotional damage won’t be enough.”

Aubrey threw an arm around Paige’s shoulders. “Come on, film starts in thirty. Let’s roll.”

But Paige didn’t move. “I’ll catch up in a sec,” she said casually, nudging Aubrey with her elbow. “Need to ask Azzi something real quick.”

Aubrey gave her a long, drawn-out “Oooooohhh,” before relenting. “Don’t be late before gramps gets mad lover girl.”

“Bye Aubrey,” Paige deadpanned, and Aubrey finally peeled away, the rest of the group filing down the hall.

Once they were gone and the hallway had quieted to a soft murmur, Paige turned to Azzi, her expression gentler now, stripped of the pressure of onlookers.

“So…” Paige began, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. “I was thinking. About tonight.”

Azzi blinked. “Tonight?”

“For studying,” Paige clarified quickly, though her voice carried a quiet edge of something more. “You said every day, remember? Might as well start tonight.”

Azzi nodded, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “Right, yeah. That makes sense. Want to meet at the library ?”

Paige gave a crooked smile and shook her head. “Actually, I was thinking… my place. No one there, fewer distractions. We’ll probably get more done.”

Azzi hesitated. “You sure ?”

“Yea.” Paige’s voice was certain, but her gaze flicked away for a second before returning to meet Azzi’s. “It’s not a big deal. I’ll text you the deets.”

Azzi took a breath, then nodded. “Okay. Sounds good.”

Paige’s smile softened, the edges of her eyes crinkling just slightly. “Cool. I’ll, uh… try to clean up a little after I finish up my schedule for the day after film and weights.”

Azzi laughed, a quiet sound that seemed to catch even her off guard. “No need. I’m not judging you.”

Paige raised an eyebrow, her grin turning a bit smug. “You say that now. Just wait until you see the mountain of laundry on my desk.”

Azzi smiled, the tension between them easing just a bit. There was still something noticeable there but for now, it settled into something easier.

“I’ll bring some snacks,” Azzi offered. “And flashcards. I have a few from the last class.”

Paige gave her a grateful look. “You’re really out here being my academic guardian angel, huh ?”

Azzi rolled her eyes with a smile. “You’re lucky I like helping people.”

Paige didn’t respond to that and just watched her for a moment too long before finally stepping back. “Alright. I should go before everyone starts texting me passive-aggressively from film and Geno gets pissed at me.”

Azzi nodded, feeling the faint urge to stall, to say something more. But instead, she let the moment settle, let it be quiet and soft and enough.

“See you tonight, Az” Paige said, turning to go.

Azzi watched her walk down the hall, tall and sure in that way she had always seemed to be. But as she glanced back once before turning the corner, there was something else in her face. Something that told Azzi she wasn’t as composed as she seemed.

And then she was gone.

Azzi stood there for a beat longer, then finally turned toward the opposite direction, heading back toward her own dorm.

Her chest still carried the echo of that photo. Of Paige’s sleepy weight against her body. Of the quiet flutter when Paige said you make it easier.

She exhaled slowly.

Tonight. Paiges place.

—------------------------------------

Azzi unlocked the door to her dorm with a soft click, stepping inside and pulling off her shoes as she glanced down the narrow hallway toward the small cluster of packages by her desk. Her heart gave a tiny, unexplainable skip when she saw one of the boxes.

“Oh,” she murmured, already moving toward it.

She knelt and peeled it open carefully, a grin tugging at the corners of her mouth as soon as the pastel pink casing appeared through the packing paper. The Polaroid camera.

She pulled it out reverently, holding it in both hands like something precious. The plastic was smooth, the color even prettier in person than it looked online and was also matching the colour of her sweatshirt. Lightweight, but solid in her hands. She instinctively brought it up to eye level, pretending to snap a shot, already imagining how the photos would look printed and warm and instant.

Azzi sat back on her heels and smiled to herself, imagining the little stack of blank film waiting to be filled. Her mind wandered—first to the small plant on her windowsill, then maybe the way the afternoon light hit the library steps, photos of her and her friends going for an outing. A whole mental list was already forming—shots she could take, quiet memories she could freeze in time.

And then, before she could help it, another thought crept in.

Paige.

She imagined Paige sitting at her desk tonight, brow furrowed, pencil tapping against her notebook while she squinted at some econ problem. Maybe her wearing a hoodie that would probably be half off one shoulder, hair up in a messy bun or maybe still damp from a post-prac shower. Azzi imagined the soft lighting of the desk lamp hitting her face, Paige muttering to herself, frustrated but trying. Still trying.

It would be the perfect moment for a picture.

Not posed, not planned, just real.

Azzi’s cheeks warmed up instantly.

“Nope,” she muttered under her breath, standing up a little too fast. She placed the camera gently on the desk and turned away like that would somehow banish the idea.

But it didn’t.

The image stuck. Paige, caught mid-thought. Paige, rolling her eyes at some dumb joke. Paige, looking up at her after finally getting an answer right, proud and bright.

Azzi covered her face with her hands, half laughing, half horrified at herself.

“What is wrong with me,” she mumbled.

She peeked through her fingers at the camera, still sitting untouched on the edge of her desk. After a long beat, she reached out, ran a thumb over the smooth shutter button, and bit her lip.

Maybe she would bring it tonight to Paige's dorm.

Just in case.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[mrsparrasblog]

POLY 141 x pregnant Reader

reaction if they are the biological father. if they are not the Dad

Postpartum Depression

Ever thought about what it would be like to be pregnant with this gigantic pile of handsome men? Because I've thought about it, and I can go into heavy detail—I will go into heavy detail!

Price: This man has a heavy breeding kink, and no one can convince me otherwise. He was so happy when he found out you were pregnant that he immediately got into heavy Dad mode. "What do you mean?" he asked after you told him he doesn't need to baby-proof the house when you're only in the second month. He attends baby preparation courses with you and overall turns into a super daddy.

Johnny: The second one with a heavy breeding kink is 100% sure he is the father. "It's the MacTavish genes," he says confidently. "We're going to have at least three bairns by the end of the five-year mark." He wouldn't admit it, but he called his mother crying while he told her the news. The MacTavish Family was special, so they all came with big stroller gifts and the urge to overwhelm you with their love. They don't care who the baby's biological father is; in their hearts, you're a MacTavish, exactly like your sweet little bairn.

Kyle: He is really excited. He already loves the baby and is also 100% sure it's his because you two have the most sex out of all of them. He always fights with Johnny about who the father probably is. Kyle is the one who thinks the most about you. He knows how you struggle with the pregnancy and how it isn't easy for you with all the overwhelming baby daddies around you, so he takes his time to care about you. He compliments you more than ever, and if you have a weird craving, he's already ordered it before you even said a word. He is constantly trying to find a baby-safe option of your favorite food. He doesn't drink coffee anymore so you don't mourn alone. Check-up? He is the first to be there, and when the baby was born and everyone looked at it, he went to you. Not because he loves the baby less—it's his world—but because he was so afraid the whole pregnancy of losing his soulmate, the only thing worth fighting for, the only thing that kept him alive.

Ghost: He never wanted kids—at least he thought he didn't—but it made sense with you. He knew you would be the best mother in the world. So why was he so afraid? He thought about how he could hurt the baby all the time with his pure strength or how he would scare the baby or hurt you. For a blissful second, he thought maybe it would be better if he left so you'd be safe from all the shadows of his past. But he was better than his family. He bought lots of parenting books, went to his psychologist regularly, and attended dad meetings, not daddy meetings—a terrible mistake he made. He even bought you a guard dog for the possibility that you and the baby are alone. To his surprise, but not to yours, he was the most gentle and understanding dad there ever was.

Dont ask me why my brain came up with this weird stuff again but Im already thinking about how they react when they found out who the biological father is lol

[ddejavvu]

Hello i had an idea for a Spencer fic! So the BAU team have a party and Spencer's sitting by himself cause he doesn't drink and he feels awkward and reader goes to sit with him to comfort him about how he doesn't have to drink to have fun. They spend the rest of the night together and Spencer asks if they could hang out more at some point :,)

Spencer's not alone, but he's not exactly with the group, either. He's sitting at the end of the table, and you remember Penelope had been with him at the start, but now she's several shots deep in Emily's lap, trying to peer down Morgan's shirt.

Spencer's tapping a long, lithe finger against the table like a metronome, his plush pink lip tucked beneath his front teeth as he stares into his water glass. There's shrieking and laughter from the opposite end of the table but you vacate your seat, beelining for the BAU's youngest member.

"You're not drinking, Reid?" You maintain a slight air of professionality, forgoing JJ's nickname, 'Spence', because you're still less than a month into joining the team. Spencer's kind with you- everyone is, but you're trying not to overstep.

"Oh, I'm not much of a drinker," He smiles, his chin angled up slightly, "I just prefer water."

"I don't blame you. Drinking makes me sleepy." You admit, "I'd pass out in half an hour if I tried Rossi's concoction."

"His cocktails are lethal," Reid's nose wrinkles, "He says it's because he's an old man and he needs the strong stuff. I just think he doesn't like having to pay attention to any of us when we talk."

"Both are probably true," You take the seat across from Spencer at the vacant side of the table, "You don't bring anything else to do? I know you usually carry a book with you."

"It's in my bag." Spencer grimaces, "Everyone always makes fun of me when I read instead of drinking, so I don't anymore."

"Go get it." You urge, "I have one in my bag too. They could- y'know, make fun of us."

Spencer's eyes narrow in thought, his brow furrowed slightly as he glances past you at the rest of the team. They're not paying attention to either of you anymore, too caught up in their own fun, and he reaches for the bag draped over the back of his chair.

It's thick, heavy, and looks like a volume that should be gathering dust in a magic library. But he opens it to a page near the beginning, and is already turning to the next before you can wrench your book out of your own bag.

You settle into the groove of reading, a comfortable silence that Spencer looks much happier with than sitting alone. He turns pages faster than you can fathom, and it's incredible to know he's reading every word the same as you are.

"You know," He starts, his eyes still on the page, "There's a nice cafe a few blocks down from work. I go there and read on Saturday mornings if we're not on a case. It's quiet, it's- good for reading." He chances a glance up at you, and finds you hooked on his every word.

"Yeah?"

"You should come with me sometime." He notes, his voice purposefully casual, "Uh, they have good croissants."

"I like croissants." You smile, "I'm free this Saturday, Reid."

"You can call me Spencer," He offers, "Uh- Morgan has his phone out."

Morgan is, in fact, taking pictures of you and Spencer with your books out, and you're sure they'll appear in your team group chat within the minute. But you don't care, and you knock your foot against Spencer's beneath the table.

"I'll be there at nine, Spencer."

[catboyieejeno]

.・゜゜・・゜゜・．.・゜゜・★

cw: soft dom! mingyu x slight pillow princess! reader, fem! reader, pwp, oral (fem and male receiving), slight overstimulation, praise, mentions of cum, npr

18+ minors do not interact !

boyfriend! mingyu who is completely obsessed with burying his face in your sopping cunt until your fingers are weaved between his locks and you’re coming multiple times in a row. he won’t let up, not because he’s being mean or punishing you with overstimulation—although occasionally, that is the case—but because you, his sweet, pretty girl, deserves nothing less than his tongue lapping restlessly at your folds. It’s embarrassingly easy for him to get pussy-drunk, grinding himself into the bed as he goes down on you for well over an hour. By the time you plead out desperately for his cock, he’s already left a thick puddle of his cum on the spot in the bed he was fucking his length into. 

kim mingyu is a simple man of simple pleasures, some of which include your cries and sputters, your trembling thighs and heavy pants, and the infrequent, though appreciated, indiscernible blabbers of praise you manage to let out through drooling lips. when you can actually manage to form words, that is. 

you are his pillow princess, whether you bestowed that title upon yourself or not. The chances of you going down on him? slim. giving him head is a rare occurrence; in fact, you’d have to beg him to let you try, plead with him to stuff his considerably large length down your throat. you’d have to convince him you need him there so bad, that you want him to feel just as good as he makes you feel, but even then, his responses are rehearsed. 

“but baby, i don’t need all that, let me treat you instead,” 

“‘wanna do all the work for you, honey. you deserve it.” 

“you really want me to fill your mouth up baby? first you have to come twice on my tongue,” 

“I’d rather come in you, sweet girl.” 

“s’too big for your pretty little mouth, don’ wanna hurt you,”

at first, you thought he didn’t want you to give him head at all, or that he assumed you would be bad at it. But, when you finally begged enough, your pretty boy caved and it became apparent very quickly why he was holding off for so long. from the moment he lays back, one arm tucked behind his head, the other pressing his thumb onto your swirling tongue, he knows he’s done for. watching you crawl over him, leaving kisses and licking stripes as you make your way down his torso, makes his pre-cum leak freely from his flushed tip. 

mingyu has his lip caught between his teeth, eyes glossed over in a haze. the very moment your velvety lips wrap around his head, he’s groaning out, arms and legs dropping limply onto the mattress. you have absolute power over him in that moment, and both of you are very, very aware of that. all of your insecurities dissipate as you realize he’s falling apart, melting like putty in your hands. his chest that previously rose and fell calmly is now puffing up with air he pushes out through his nostrils and the noises he’s letting out? other-fucking-wordly.

he eventually regains feeling in his hands and they rotate between holding your throat, your cheek, and simply sliding along the ridges of his abdomen. all the meanwhile, it’s him who chokes up on his words, slurring his speech. 

“please, please, please…” 

“your mouth feels s’good on me, fuck,” 

“doin’ so good, so fucking good, all for me…” 

“if you do that again, i’m not gonna last—shit.” 

“just like that, yes, baby… oh, god, you’re gonna make me—“ 

when your tongue swipes deliciously over his tip, he drags out a strangled moan, shooting his hot load into your mouth and down your throat. knees locked, toes curled, and hips bucking up into you, he throws his head back to ride out his orgasm. 

a few seconds later, his hands fly to your hair to lift you off, but in a small act of defiance for all the times you were overstimulated by him, you grab his wrists and pin them at his sides. he lets you do this because it’s so, so fucking hot to watch you have a sliver of control for once—both of you are well aware he could overpower you if he wanted to. instead, though, he laces his fingers with yours and takes what you give him like the good boy he is. it takes less than ten minutes for him to come each and every time you give him head going forward but thankfully, his stamina doesn’t betray him. he recovers while he returns the favor, devouring you and drinking up your juices as his cock that never fully softened, swells up all over again. 

⋆ ★

[harryspet]

homestead [4] r.cameron

[warnings] dark!rafe cameron x pregnant!reader, farmer!rafe, pogue!reader, jj maybank x reader, kidnapping, DUBCON, little editing,READ AT YOUR OWN RISK 18+

A/N: Pls reblog and let me know what you think!

word count: 3.6k

In which you can't escape from your inner turmoil, even in your dreams.

homestead masterlist

Tending to the entire house was hard work. You thought you’d be bored sooner than you actually ended up. It seemed there was always more to do with all the cooking you were doing and the laundry that Rafe went through. Sometimes, you imagined adding the demands of feeding a newborn every few hours or chasing a toddler around to your already packed routine. The thought was daunting, but you had signed up for it, knowing it would be difficult yet now you were relieved you wouldn’t be financially struggling through it.

Your growing belly had started to interfere with your daily chores. It was harder to breathe when you exerted yourself, and frequent trips to the bathroom were now the norm. Rafe never complained when the house wasn't perfect, but you knew it was because he was trying to regain your trust after losing control in the nursery. He wanted you to come to him willingly, but you weren’t mentally ready for that. When Rafe did touch you, he restrained his darker impulses, and while you never enthusiastically said “yes,” you found yourself denying him less and less.

When Rafe started leaving his bedroom unlocked, you knew it was safe to start cleaning it. You mostly used this time to snoop around. You weren’t sure what contact he kept with the outside world. He made sure you weren’t privy to the details of his business, and he never called his family when you were around. 

His room was like yours in many ways, yet distinctly different. You felt a more masculine presence than the rest of the farmhouse. The walls were a deep charcoal gray, and the bed had a thick, woolen blanket that looked inviting enough, but the large wooden bed frame was imposing. Heavy, dark curtains framed the windows on either side of the bed, and there was a seating area on one side of the room with a leather armchair next to a couple of shelves containing a few trinkets and books. Rafe’s closet contained your most considerable curiosity, a substantial black safe. 

The way Rafe opened the house to you was purposeful, he wanted you to feel welcome here, but he couldn’t deny he had secrets. You knew at least a few of those secrets were inside that safe. 

Every time you went inside the closet to put away Rafe’s laundry or organize his clothes, you thought about the years that had passed and everything you didn’t know about him. You were in one of those moments, standing in Rafe’s closet, when you heard the shower start in the connecting room. Rafe had appeared from an afternoon in the fields. You weren’t sure if he hadn’t realized you were there, but he’d already started undressing, his chiseled frame glistening with sweat and dirt. 

“Hey,” You whispered, not wanting to startle him, but he was already grinning at the sight of you.

“Hey, Honey,” He started to undo his belt, and you felt trapped, most of his figure blocking the view of the bathroom doorway, “How you doing?”

You shrugged like you usually did, “Fine, I was just …hanging up your dress shirts.”

“Nice,” He slid off his pants, and you weren’t sure why you didn’t avert your eyes; maybe because you felt yourself starved from any other human connection expect Rafe’s, “I’ll be gone for longer than usual tomorrow.”

“Cameron Development business?”

He didn’t confirm nor deny, “You mind picking out my clothes? You have a better eye for colors and stuff, you know?”

“Sure,” You took that as your opportunity to stop staring at the figure that seemed to be growing even more pristine as the manual labor toned his muscles. You resented it slightly, feeling less and less like yourself as your child grew inside of you. 

The closet was a strange mix of outdoor clothing and high-end suits, a signal of the true duality of Rafe’s life. Thanks to you, it was more organized now, and you spent time scanning the rows of clothes. You chose a tailored navy suit, thinking of his muscular build and the deep blue of his eyes. You paired it with a crisp, white dress shirt and a tie with a subtle, sophisticated pattern of navy and silver. Completing the look, you picked out his polished, black leather dress shoes and matching belt. 

You hadn’t realized just how much time you spent mulling it over. As soon as you laid it out on top of the closet’s chaise lounge chair, Rafe stood beside you with a towel wrapped around his waist. 

“I’m impressed,” He said, leaning over to peck your cheek. 

“Thanks.”

“Stay with me in my room tonight,” Rafe said, his fingers trailing down from your shoulder to your arm. He moved in closer, leaning down to kiss below your ear, “Missed you all day.”

“Rafe,” You sighed as he placed a kiss lower on your neck. In saying his name, you said a million different things. It was a warning that you might resist, that you loved his touch but hated how much you did. 

“I gave you your own space because of your …condition. But after the baby comes, this is going to become our room. I want you to get comfortable here.”

Again, it felt like he was asking the world of you. You imagined laying next to him night after night and him rolling over, taking what he wanted from you anytime he liked. When you thought about it for a moment longer, it wasn’t much different than how things were now. 

“I…I wanted to ask you something,” You placed a hand on his chest and he placed his larger one over yours.

“Yeah?”

“Now that I’m in my third trimester, I’ve been thinking more about, you know, giving birth,” You found it hard to meet his eyes, but you did your best, especially as they started to narrow at you, “With me being here, I guess I don’t know what my plan is anymore.”

“Don’t worry, Honey,” Rafe said, “You think I don’t have a plan?”

“I didn’t know how far we were from the hospital-”

You felt his heart quicken underneath your touch, “A hospital is like, not even Plan C, it’s Plan E. You’ll do it here. People do home births all the time.”

Your face fell quickly, and you pulled your hand from him, “You’re not serious.”

“I’ve been doing my research. As long as we have the proper people involved and the right equipment, it can work!”

“It’s my first pregnancy, Rafe! I want a real hospital with lots of nurses and a real doctor. I want an epidural, and I want my baby to have immediate medical care if he needs it. You’re crazy!”

“It’s not happening.”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” You cursed, your temper flaring. He grabbed your wrist, keeping you from stepping away, “Get away from me!”

“Calm down,” Rafe grabbed both of your arms, pinning you in front of him, “This is why I didn’t fucking bring it up.”

“Let go of me,” You gritted your teeth, “Please.”

“You have to trust me. I can handle this.”

“I don’t want you … I don’t want just you to handle everything,” you replied, trying to find your calm, knowing you might set him off pretty soon. “Please, just—we have to be able to discuss this more. If you need reassurance that I won’t run or tell anyone what happened, then I will do whatever. I care about the baby more than myself.”

“I wouldn’t put you or the baby in harm's way.”

“I know,” you lied.

“Then don’t imply that I would.”

 “Can you just be open-minded about this?”

His eyes held a lot of emotions, but he nodded. As if each of you were frightened of escalating each other further, you pulled away from each other. 

“I want to sleep in my bed; I toss and turn so much, and my pillow-”

“Go ahead, I don’t give a shit,” Rafe crossed his arms, giving in so quickly that your eyes widened in shock. You didn’t waste the opportunity, scurrying off as quickly as your legs would take you. 

You didn’t see Rafe for the rest of that night and were grateful he wasn’t around the next day, either. 

“I like the name Kai,” you said, looking up, your head resting on top of someone’s warm lap, feeling the sun for the first time in a long time. “It means sea in Hawaiian. If they grow up here, they have to like the ocean.”

“I was thinking something edgier,” you heard JJ say, his gaze also moving toward the beautiful sky above. Lush, rolling fields surrounding you, “Maybe like Talon or Blaze? Something cool so, you know, the other kids don’t pick on ‘em.”

“No way,” She shook your head, giggling, “That is exactly the type of kid someone would pick on.”

“Fine …Kai. I don’t dislike it,” JJ seemed to ponder the name longer,.

You sat up from his lap, finally gazing at your handsome boyfriend. “I like it. We don’t have to pick one now, but … I’m just saying.” 

The two of you were sitting on top of a plaid blanket you didn’t recognize, and you didn’t recognize what part of The Cut you were in, either. JJ must’ve surprised you for a date. A cheap picnic was always up his aisle, and you never cared for fancy dates. 

“I still can’t believe there’s going to be a little Maybank,” you said, reaching out to touch his blonde, windswept hair. “I mean, I already love him. It makes me think my Dad must’ve never felt this way about me.”

He touched your bump, and you felt like you were filled with happiness. Everything was right. Things would be challenging, but at least you’d have each other. 

“My parents, too,” the words were solemn, but you felt the opposite, “It’s their loss.”

Neither of you had the families you deserved, but you could provide that happiness to Kai . . . or whatever name ended up suiting your angel. 

“Picking a name is hard. What if we look at him, and he just doesn’t match the one we chose?” You wondered. 

“Then we change it. He could have no name for all I care. As long as he’s healthy.”

You brought your lips to his and melted into him. Strong arms wrapped around your back as he deepened the kiss further. You were at home. 

When you opened your eyes again, breathless from the kiss, you knew you weren’t home at all. Tears filled JJ’s ocean eyes and the sky turned a darker blue. 

“Have you asked Rafe what he thinks about the baby’s name?”

“Wha-” Your lips parted, the air growing from warm to humid. A storm was brewing above that field of flowers. Now that you glanced around, those flowers were just weeds. 

“You should ask him.”

“Why would I ask Rafe, JJ?”

“Why not? He won. He gets you. He gets the baby.”

“He didn’t win. I just …” It came to you then. JJ never got to feel your pregnant belly. He never knew you were having a boy. How could you feel connected to him from behind the glass in the visiting room? “I-I’m going to figure this out.”

“You’re giving in.”

“I’m not!” You pushed at his chest, but he didn’t budge. 

“You should’ve never let him in.”

“I’m sorry,” You were crying now, “I-I was so lonely, and… you left me!”

He turned his head, and you felt the rain starting to fall, “You’ll forget about me soon enough. He’ll never know me.”

“Please, you have to find us.” The words left your lips just as lightning struck. 

You screamed yourself awake. 

You pushed around the baby potatoes on your plate, sitting across from Rafe at the dinner table. This entire week, you’d been struggling with eating. You felt the baby resting so high that you felt full quicker than expected. It didn’t help that you were facing the reality of giving birth inside this house and possibly never seeing the outside world again. 

You wanted nothing more than to meet your baby, but you felt yourself growing more complacent as your time here and the pregnancy went along. Realistically, how far could you get now that you were this pregnant? And how could you leave with a newborn?

“Is the baby moving a lot?” Rafe brought a piece of steak to his mouth, watching you intently as you played with your food. 

“Yeah … a little too much.”

“Hey, an active baby is a healthy one.”

You wanted to roll your eyes, “You read that in one of your parenting books?”

He winked at you, “Yes, I did.”

“I’m glad you know everything now.”

“You’d know more if you spent some of your free time reading. You haven’t touched a single one.”

“I’m exhausted lately, but thanks.”

Rafe nodded, “Well, makes sense; your body is changing so much. I should stay home more so I can take care of you.”

“I can take care of myself,” You said quickly. 

His fork and knife clanged against his plate as he placed them down. He leaned forward, eyes gazing sharply at you, “What’s gotten into you lately?”

“Rafe, don’t,” You couldn’t help but roll your eyes now. 

“I’m serious …did I do something? Things have been going good.”

You went silent, “Can I be excused?”

“You cannot,” his fist slammed down on the table, making you jump. “I had our whole night planned out, starting with dinner. So you’ll finish dinner with me, we will go on a walk, and then stay in my bed tonight.”

“I don’t feel-”

“I don’t care. I don’t ask too much of you,” Rafe interrupted, “If you can act a little bit more pleasant, I’ll still give you the surprise I was planning.”

“A surprise?”

“You’re going to regret acting like a brat when you see it.” 

Your mouth parted in shock, but his deadly look had you crossing your arms and sitting back silently in your chair. 

Rafe’s hands were intertwined with yours as you walked down an unfamiliar winding path. Cicadas had begun chirping, and the sun began to set, casting a golden hue over the property. This was only the third time you’d physically left the house, Rafe allowing you earlier in your pregnancy to follow him around to meet all of the animals. 

Now, due to your swollen feet, you didn’t fit into the work overalls Rafe purchased for you or the boots. You walked in silence for the most part, imagining that Rafe was stewing with anger after your behavior at dinner. You cared little that you’d upset him; your mind was focused on repressing the nightmares you’d be having about JJ. 

After a few minutes, you arrived at a small, fenced-in area near one of the barns. Your curiosity was piqued when you saw a little pen set up in the middle of the grassy area. Inside was a bundle of fur that wiggled and barked excitedly as you approached. 

“C’mere, Honey,” He pulled you closer to the pin. The small dog was a golden brown color with long, shaggy ears, and you noticed a red gift bow tied around its neck. 

“A puppy?” You asked, leaning forward. The puppy stood up on its hind legs, and bounded over the pen's edge, tail wagging furiously. 

“She’s cute, right?” Rafe scooped the puppy quickly into its arms. 

“You bought a puppy,” you couldn’t help yourself, starting to pet its soft fur as Rafe held her close. “This is the surprise?”

“Part of it,” Rafe smiled, “You could use more company.” 

You couldn’t help but notice that your lips started to pull into a smile as the puppy tilted its head closer to you, licking at your cheek, “Oh … look at her,” You said, your heart swelling. Rafe had successfully subverted your expectations. Who were you to deny the cutest animal you’d ever seen? You should welcome any happiness your new world wanted to bring you, no matter how much regret JJ made you feel in your dreams, “You didn’t have to…”

“I want you to have her. She’s a cocker spaniel. Guy who sold her to me said they’re good with kids.” 

“I love her,” You spoke honestly, scratching behind her ears. 

“Look at her collar,” He gave you a suspicious look.

“Why?”

“Just look,” You hesitated but couldn’t imagine him playing a trick on you right now. 

After spinning the tiny collar around her neck, you found the second part of your surprise. Hanging on its collar was a ring with a gold band an a huge, oval-shaped diamond. You inspected it closer, not meeting Rafe’s eyes. Your heart was beating way too fast to look at him. You knew little about engagement rings, but you knew what you were looking at would be considered top-tier. 

“Here,” he said, placing the puppy back down in the pin and maneuvering its collar to free the ring. He held it out to you, and as you stood there, frozen, he took your hand. You didn’t pull away as he eased it onto your left ring finger, “I know we can’t have a traditional ceremony, but I just thought you might think this was special.”

Your lips parted, but Rafe shushed you, “You don’t have to say anything.”

Rafe’s eyes searched yours, waiting for any sign of acceptance. You looked down, the diamond catching the light of the setting sun.

“Let’s bring her inside,” Rafe suggested after a long moment. You nodded, and he leaned over to kiss your forehead before lifting the puppy again. 

Rafe led you back to the house, and his words echoed in your head. What had he done to deserve your attitude? Things were going well. In exchange for caring for the house, you relax in a comfortable environment where your baby can grow peacefully. He’d bought you a gorgeous ring and a puppy to discourage your loneliness. Maybe you were just wholly ungrateful. 

You helped Rafe set up an area for her in the living room.

“She’s gonna need a name.”

“What do you think?” You asked him quietly. 

You resisted the idea of naming your baby without JJ, but maybe you could share this intimate, normal thing with Rafe. 

He propped his fist underneath his chin, thinking, and stared down at the dog, “Are you opposed to a human name?”

“I’m not opposed to anything.”

He seemed a bit surprised by your reaction, but he continued his thinking pose. 

“She’s gonna be really sweet, I can already tell. To me, she looks like a Lucy or like a Molly.”

“Molly is cute. Classic sounding,” You nodded, leaning down to pet her, “You’re so adorable. You need wittle pink hairbows, don’t you, Molly?” 

You heard him chuckle at your high-pitched tone, “It’s settled then. Welcome to the family, Molly.”

As the evening progressed and after you got plenty of puppy cuddles, Rafe escorted you upstairs. The atmosphere was different than the last time you were together there. It was softer and more intimate. He helped you out of your clothes, gentle and considerate of your bump. You didn’t let yourself overthink any longer for the night. 

Your body was so much different from when he first brought you here, yet Rafe’s eyes were hungrier than ever. You couldn’t feel vulnerable for too long because soon he was naked too and pressed against you. The touching, soothing words in your ear and the gentle hands on your belly were almost too much. 

When the time came, Rafe guided you on top of him. He kept you steady, supporting your body with his strong hands as you straddled his lap. That night, you controlled the pace, and the position allowed you to ease the discomfort your belly caused. He watched you like a fine painting hanging in a museum, and his hands never left your hips. 

“Take your time,” He grunted huskily, “You’re doing so good, Honey.”

You loved the praise. You basked in his words and his gaze. You wanted to feel like you were doing the right thing, that you would be a good Mom, and Rafe was always there to confirm that. Your head rolled back, lips parting, as your movements became more frantic and rapid. 

You lost your rhythm, the intensity bringing tears to your eyes.

“Good girl, Honey,” As you grew tired, Rafe moved your hips for you. Hands pressing into his thick chest, you whined, feeling him in the deepest parts of you, “Give Daddy all of it.” 

“Fuck, Rafe!” You cursed, shaking, and he groaned in response, “I’m coming.”

He moved your hips faster, the grinding motion sending you over the cliff towards your orgasm. You felt yourself tightening around him, and like a chain reaction, Rafe’s eyes closed tightly as his orgasm came, “Jesus, baby,” Hands still tight on your hips, he finished deep inside of you, but you’d reached the point of overstimulation now. 

You climbed off of him, your chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath. He caught you in his arms, pressing his body into yours, “Thank you,” You heard him say in your ear, his voice raw with emotion, “Fuck, I love you so much.”

You nestled into his embrace, feeling the warmth of his body against yours and the soft sheets beneath you. When you drifted off to sleep, you saw no raging storms, felt no overwhelming guilt, and JJ never appeared. For the first time in a long while, you slept peacefully, cocooned in the safety of Rafe’s love.

A/N: Pls reblog and let me know what you think!

[voicemailfromluke-beep]

when the sun loved the moon.

pair: luke hughes x f!reader ; luke hughes x mid/plus-size!reader

genre: angst, fluff, slow burn

warnings: body image insecurity, manipulation, toxic friendship, self-doubt, emotional hurt, swearing.

summary: you never expected to fall for someone like luke hughes. he was tall, charming, a hockey prodigy and you were just… you. sweet, soft, unsure. but in the safety of a shared friend group, you found comfort beside him. until someone else saw that closeness as an opportunity, not to protect, but to use. at luke’s lake house, one moment of trust shatters the illusion you built. and when luke returns to find you gone, questions begin to unravel.

🍅’s note: here we go with a bit of lukey angst 🥲 i really hope you enjoy this one because it seriously pulled at my heart while writing. i’ll be honest, i kind of hated putting the reader through this situation. it was tough to write knowing how heavy and emotional it would feel, but sometimes the angst just demands to be written, y’know? as always, i’d love to hear your thoughts, whether it made you cry, scream, or just sit in silence for a second. thank you so much for reading and supporting my stories. it means everything <3

part: 1 of 2

“you didn’t bring sunscreen again?”

luke asked with a teasing smile, handing you a cold bottle straight from the cooler.

“no, but i had faith you would,”

you grinned, taking it from his hand and squeezing some into your palm, your skin already felt warm from the afternoon sun.

“you’re always prepared, hughes.”

he chuckled, leaning back on his elbows beside your lounge chair.

“that’s ’cause you’re always forgetting stuff.”

you glanced over, catching the way his hair clung to his forehead, lake water still dripping from his swim trunks. you looked away quickly, pretending to focus on rubbing the sunscreen over your arms.

“you swimming again later?” he asked.

you shook your head. “maybe. kinda just feel like soaking in the sun today.”

“suits you, little chublet.” he said softly.

it was moments like that the softness in his voice, that made it hard to remind yourself he probably didn’t feel the same. and why would he? he was luke hughes. and you… you were just someone trying to take up less space in a world that didn’t make room for girls like you.

but being around him? it made it so much easier to breathe. even when the rest of the friend group made you feel like a guest in your own skin.

“mind if i go back in?” he asked, pushing himself up.

“water’s too good to pass up.”

“go for it,”

you said, shielding your eyes from the sun as he jogged back toward the dock.

you didn’t notice her, cassedy, approaching until her shadow fell over your chair.

“hey!”

she said brightly, that too-sweet voice grating just a little.

“relaxing?”

“yeah, just chilling,” you replied, sitting up slightly.

she was all legs and long waves of honey-blonde hair. the kind of girl you always assumed people like luke ended up with. not because of anything she did, she was always nice to you, always smiling but because the world just seemed to bend a little more in her favor.

“so…”

she said, lowering her sunglasses and giving you a sly smile.

“i have to ask. do you have a crush on luke?”

your chest tightened a little but something about her tone, it was just curious, not mocking made you lower your guard.

“…i mean, yeah,”

you admitted quietly, looking out at the lake.

“kind of hard not to.”

she laughed lightly, and for a second, you laughed too until you turned and saw her face. the smirk wasn’t kind. it was sharp. amused.

“oh, sweetheart,”

she said, voice low now, almost pitying.

“i didn’t think you were actually serious.”

you blinked, confused. “what?”

“you really think someone like luke would ever date someone like you?”

she asked, still smiling, like she was saying something so obvious it almost hurt her to say it.

“come on. he’s an nhl player. he could have anyone.”

your heart cracked in your chest.

“cass, why would you say that?”

“just being real with you,” she shrugged.

“i mean, it’s cute that you thought you had a chance. but he actually asked me out for dinner. said he wanted to get to know me better.”

the breath left your lungs. “oh… he did?”

“yeah,”

she said with a sigh, like this was all so exhausting.

“so maybe… stop daydreaming. you’ll save yourself from getting hurt.”

you didn’t say anything. couldn’t. her words kept replay in your head like church bells, each one louder than the last.

you stood up slowly, brushing off your legs.

“i think i’m gonna go rest inside.”

“probably for the best,”

she said, already turning away.

“enjoy your nap.”

five minutes after you left, luke climbed out of the water, wiping the water from his face and squinting toward the house.

“hey,” he said, jogging over to the girl.

“where’s my little chublet?”

she didn’t even look up from her phone.

“she said she was tired. went to lay down or something.”

he frowned. “she was fine like ten minutes ago.”

“maybe the sun got to her,” she said, still smiling.

but something in luke’s gut twisted, he hate the smile on cassidy face, and he know something felt wrong. because you didn’t just disappear without saying goodbye.

[godmadeaterribleerror]

Chapter 19 - That's Nothing New

Series Masterlist - Main Masterlist

Author's Note: Welcome to my favorite part of any slow burn: horny

Chapter Title from Vertigo by Griff

Word Count: 18.4k

Chapter Summary/Warnings: A very special valentine’s episode. Usual Warnings.

Tags: Dean Winchester/Female Reader, enemies to friends to lovers, canon divergence, slow burn, angst, fluff, pining, action

Chapter 18 - Chapter 20

Read on A03!

They hadn’t talked about it. 

Dean wasn’t sure he wanted to talk about it. He didn’t know where that conversation led. 

It could be simple. He could corner Her in Bobby kitchen, ask Her what it meant to Her, and they’d have to have The Conversation. And Dean—for once in his life—might get pretty damn lucky, and She’d say it meant the same to Her that it had meant to him.

Everything. 

The kiss had meant everything. It what most of what he was made of, now. The memory of it playing on a heavy loop in his head, the taste of Her lingered on his tongue—he was starting to develop a small habit of licking his lips every single freaking second, trying to gather up whatever little bits of Her remained like some sort of creep—and his hands were itching to touch Her again. 

He didn’t have a goddamn clue how he’d managed to go so long without touching Her. Kissing Her. Trying to find out every single way She could possibly moan his name, because son of a bitch, that was the best thing he’d ever heard.

She was the best thing Dean had ever had. 

And he didn’t even know if it had meant anything to Her.

There were a lot of ways that conversation could go, and Dean had played out most of them in his head already. It was a like planning for a hunt. He’d grab her in the kitchen, because that would give Her more of a warning than if he started The Conversation in Her bedroom, and a better place for him to escape than if he used to Impala.

In some versions, he started The Conversation, then pussied out and ran away. He was a fucking coward. Dean knew how to talk to ladies. He was good at talking to ladies. He was good at talking to Her.

But not about this. 

“Why’re you up, Princess?”

Dean had woken up a few days ago, and She hadn’t been in bed. The only thing that kept him from freaking out was how he could still smell Her on the sheets. And She wouldn’t have just left. She’d pinky promised him She wouldn’t just leave.

He’d found Her in the library. Of course he had. Absentmindedly scratching notes on a small piece of paper as she read, Her brow furrowed in the cuter, less painful version of Her little wrinkle, not even flinching or starting as Dean made himself known.

“Couldn’t sleep.” She’d muttered, and Dean had shrugged.

“You’re not gonna sleep, if you’re down here.”

“I’ll be fine.” She’d written down another note that—when Dean had craned his neck—was obviously in Enochian. She’d been doing that more lately, and Dean didn’t really want to think about why. “Go back to bed, De.”

He could’ve. But that would mean leaving Her, and Dean had promised not to do that. And this had been the perfect time. For The Conversation. No Bobby to try and shoot him, no Sammy to tease him, no Jo to make little jokes about it. Just Her and Dean, in the dead hours of the night.

In the moment, he’d really thought he could do this. 

“So, uh,” He’d cleared his throat, and She’d glanced up from Her book. “Angels.”

She’d frowned. “What about them? I- Nothing has tried to break through the wards, right? Because a lot of those sigils are experimental, but they should start like, glowing, if something is coming-“

“Nothing’s coming.” Dean had mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m just. You know. Lotta stuff happening.”

“Like…” She raised Her brows, and Dean wasn’t sure how She always managed to look so perfectly put together. “Angels?”

“Yeah.”

She’d hummed, scanning over Dean with an unreadable expression, and he’d felt like She was looking right into his soul-

Son of a bitch, She probably was. She could see Dean’s soul, and if Hell somehow hadn’t made Her run, this was going to. He didn’t know how it worked, but the want in his body for Her wasn’t pure, and if She saw it and hated it, Dean would end up alone-

“Are you feeling okay?” Her voice had been soft as She cut off Dean’s thoughts, and he’d blinked. “De, you- You’re really red.”

“‘M fine.” He’d mumbled, and She’d shaken Her head.

“Did you get sunburned or something? I know it’s winter, but you’re outside all the time, and I have aloe if it hurts-“

“Nothing hurts.” He’d thrown Her his best, widest, most charming smile, and moved to drop at Her side. “What are we reading?”

She’d smiled slightly, pulling Her book away from Dean’s gaze. “We’re not reading anything.”

“I can read-“

“Not this.”

“But-“

“It’s a girl book, De.” 

He hadn’t known what a girl book was. He still wasn’t entirely sure. 

He’d stayed anyway.

“C’mon, I did those face masks with you and Jo. I can read your girl book.” He’d reached out a hand, and Her eyes had widened.

“Dean-“

“I’m not going back to bed.”

She’d stared at him, and Dean had known She’d heard the silent words. 

Without you. I’m not going back to bed if you’re not there.

“Do you…” She’d swallowed, Her eyes never leaving Dean’s, and maybe he should’ve damned it all and kissed Her again there. “I’m hungry. Are you-“

“I’m always hungry, Princess.” Dean had grinned, and offered Her his hand. “Gas station?”

She’d given him a small smile and nod, The Conversation hadn’t happened, and Dean had decided that bringing it up naturally—which had, somehow, been the plan in the library—had to be taken off the table as an option.

But he didn’t know how to do it otherwise. 

Hey, Princess, you’re the best thing that ever happened to me and if you want to kiss me again, I won’t stop you. Wrong. She was beautiful being that was above goddamn heaven, Dean couldn’t ask Her out like it was a suggestion to get him more pie. Like this wasn’t the most important thing he’d ever done. 

I’m a piece of shit, sweetheart, but I want you, so I’m sorry about that, but could you please fucking kiss me again before I lose my mind. Wrong again. She shouldn’t have to. It didn’t mean anything if She kissed Dean to keep him from losing his mind. She had to want it.

I think you’re fucking awesome. She knew that. It had never gotten Her to kiss him before.

Every single time I dream, it’s about you- 

He wasn’t a teenage girl.

Do you have any idea how fucking hard I get whenever you smile at me? How many times I’ve imagined grabbing you and pinning you to the wall, or bending you over the table, or getting on my knees and-

Bobby would shoot him. He’d deserve it.

You’re like the universe, and I’m sorta like the stars, so how this should work is I fill you up-

He was going to shoot himself.

And there were too many variables for what She might say. Maybe it really had meant nothing to Her, and She’d tell Dean that, and he’d just have to fucking live with that. 

Worse, maybe it had meant everything to Her. Maybe Dean really, fully had Her if he wanted Her, and now he could lose Her. Break Her. Maybe She’d say Deano, of course I’m the universe, but you’re somehow the best thing that happened to me too, and climb on his lap and kiss him again, and he’d get to hold Her, but know angels were hunting Her and Alistair might try to take Her away.

Even if that was the case, even if She did—against all odds and reason—want Dean, he had to have The Conversation about it, first. 

He still didn’t know how to do that. Because it was exactly like planning for a hunt. And the number one rule of making plans for hunts was that you were going to have to improvise. Move on instinct, and stay alive. Speak on instinct, and keep Her by his side.

Dean did not know how to speak on instinct. And if he stumbled or tripped in a hunt—he didn’t, really, ever, as killing monsters was a whole lot easier than trying to tell Her that he’d kill and die to kiss Her just one more fucking time—the only thing it would cost Dean was himself. He never hesitated, when it was Her or Sammy on the line, so the only person that ever ended up hurt because of Dean fucking a hunt up was himself. And that was acceptable.

He didn’t know how to do that for The Conversation. How to find his way with all the right words should he lose them. He could say something horrible, say something wrong, fuck it up and lose Her forever. There were no bullets or blades to jump in front of, if She started to get upset.

Son of a bitch, what if She started to get upset.

What if She started to cry, and Dean wasn’t allowed to calm Her down because he’d fucked it all up. He couldn’t live with himself, if that was how it played out. Dean could barely tolerate himself now, when he’d down and swear that there was blood on his hands once more. She’d stayed when She knew about the blood. If Dean lost Her now, because of his words, there would be no one else to blame but himself.

He was supposed to be Her shadow. And this was part of being Her shadow, but the most important part was keep Her safe and never let anything hurt Her.

Dean could have hurt Her.

But She’d kissed him back. Over the past few weeks, whenever Dean would roll over and look at Her in bed, he’d remind himself that She’d kissed him back. She’d wanted it. He was a piece of shit, but not that low and ugly in the mud. He’d never do that to anyone.

But he was still fantasizing about Her. And it was wrong, so fucking wrong to look over Her in the night and brush hair from Her face because he was allowed to, only to turn around and shuffle into the shower in the morning, and replay the kiss over and over in his head until his cock was raw in his hand.

Even now, sitting in the dark of a parking lot with Her at his side, Dean was having too many fantasies.

They’d been doing it every other night, since the library. Going out to the gas station in the dead of night, just them, together, whenever one of them couldn’t sleep. Tonight She’d even woken Dean up with big glossy eyes and a sad little furrow on Her brow. 

“I- I’m sorry.” She’d whispered, looking a little too much like the exact image that had been in Dean’s head only seconds before. Where She was hovering above him, but his hands were on Her hips, and his mouth was wrapped around one of Her nipples as She rode his cock and screamed his-

He'd been dangerously close to getting hard, and forced himself to focus on the soft nervousness of Her voice—obviously distressed and, for reasons he'd never understand, seeking his comfort—to calm down.

"You can go back to bed, if you want, but-"

"No, 's alright." Dean had rubbed the sleep from his eyes, holding Her against him before she decided to run away. "I was up anyway."

That was a lie. They both knew that was a lie, but She smiled, and it was worth the consequence of another sin added to his roster. 

"You need a ride?" He'd asked, and She'd flushed, giving him a small nod.

"I- Um, yes. Please."

It hadn't been until they were in the car that Dean caught his own wording. Or the fact that holding Her to make sure she stayed had meant grabbing Her by waist and pinning her to his body.

That would be a good way to start The Conversation.

Baby, if I had kissed you right there, would you have stabbed me for real this time, or let me take care of you.

Dean wasn't brave enough to say it. But he could think it, over and over until he drove himself insane. And he could stare at Her in the soft shadows and lights of the parking lot, and know that he'd never be able to have The Conversation. 

He couldn't afford to push his luck. When he didn't dream about kissing Her, he dreamt about Hell. And She'd started to infect those dreams too, since Boston. Since Dean found out She'd been there, and still hadn't left him. He would've left him, if that was an option. Shit, Sammy and Bobby still didn't know, and he dreaded the day they looked at him and saw him. Saw that vast fucking pit that had been in Dean his whole life, ripped open into a chasm by his own hand, and knew what he was.

Worse than a monster. Lower than the mud. 

Never fucking worthy of anything, let alone Her. The drop-dead gorgeous, ethereal, literally fucking magical woman made of stars, who could see him, and was staying.

Dean couldn’t take more from Her than she was already offering, just by staying and letting him care for Her at least like this. He'd gotten to kiss Her once, and that was more than he deserved. He got to be the one She came to in the dead of night for comfort and company. She wasn't leaning against anyone else in the car. Wasn't holding their hand like it was a lifeline as they wandered through the gas station. Didn't stand on Her toes to whisper in anyone's ear but Dean's, because he was Her shadow. No one else.

She'd asked if they could get ice cream. Asked it like Dean wouldn't give Her the fucking Sun if he could figure out how to grab it.

And now She was curled up at his side, a little bit of it stuck on Her nose, and Dean would be fine never kissing Her again, as long as he got to be the one who wiped the splotch away with his thumb and licked it clean. 

“Do you want some?” She held the tub out with raised brows, and Dean gave Her a small grin. 

“Nah, I got my pie.”

“But you gave me some of yours-“

“Cause you were staring, Princess, and I’m a-“ Dean paused, frowning at the air. “What do you call those guys who give people all their things?”

A small, soft smile covered Her features. Dean had never seen anything prettier. “Samaritans?”

“Yeah, that. I’m one of those.”

She giggled, leaning Her head back on the bench. “You know, Sam told me you threatened to exorcise Ruby if she tried to take your ice last week.”

“Well, the bitch didn’t fucking pay for it.” Dean grumbled. “And it is Ruby. You’d have threatened worse.”

“Touché.” She turned Her head to the side, watching Dean through the dark, and he knew She could see it. If She could see his soul, She had to see the chasm as well.

And She was still looking at him. Staying at his side. He didn’t fucking understand why.

“Dean?”

He grunted, fiddling with his jerky bag. She’d grabbed it before anything else. They’d barely been in the store for ten seconds before She’d shoved it into Dean’s hands, the same way he’d grabbed a root beer and passed it to Her without a thought. He didn’t want to think about what that meant. 

“I’m worried about Sam. He’s- You know I don’t trust Ruby, and they’ve been hanging out a lot-“

“I know.” Dean muttered. “I am too, but- I don’t know, sweetheart. He’s not listening to me about it anymore. Says I’m blinded about-“

He cut himself off, because the end of that sentence was Her. That Dean was blinded in his worry about Her, and how because She and Ruby didn’t like each other, they couldn’t bring Her on the seal cases. 

They’d gotten in a fight about it, last week. On the drive back, Dean had grumbled something about missing Her, wanting to bring Her on the next one because She’d fucking nail it—these were Her exact types of cases, weird and impossible to understand until she gave it a once over and got it in ten seconds—and thinking it was unfair that Sam got to bring his untrustworthy demon everywhere, but Dean couldn’t bring his awesome, brilliant, perfect Her.

Sam had sighed. “It’s not that I don’t want her here, Dean, you know I do, but- Ruby’s worried she’ll kill her-“

“Good.” Dean had muttered. “She will.”

“She shouldn’t! Ruby’s the only demon we’ve got completely on our side-“

Dean had snorted. “Jesus, Sammy, I really thought you were smarter than thinking a demon would ever be on our side-“

“Ruby is, she’s proved over and over that she is-“

“Proved to you.”

“She’s tried to prove to you as well, man, but you’re just never wrong about people, I guess-“

“I am wrong about people! I know I’ve been wrong about people, but you know who’s never fucking wrong about people?” Dean had spat Her name, and Sam’s mouth had snapped shut. “I don’t need Ruby to prove herself to me, she needs to prove herself to-“

“The woman who wants to kill her?” Sam had mumbled, watching Dean carefully, and he’d been damn near close to strangling the wheel.

“To the woman who can see fucking souls. She’s not wrong. And I want her on the next seal.”

Sam had sighed. “Dude, if you just want to stay with her, you can skip the next case. I- It’s not just about Ruby.” Sam had said Her name gently, giving Dean a sympathetic look he didn’t fucking want. “If we put her on a seal case, the angels will notice. It won’t be safe for her-“

“I’d protect her.” 

“But what if you can’t, Dean.” Sam’s voice had been too fucking soft. “It’s- The seals are a lot, but all the Magdalene stuff is… different. You told me Cas doesn’t understand it, and Ruby-“

“Don’t.” Dean had pushed the words through his teeth. He was done with the conversation, because he would protect Her. That was the whole point of being Her shadow. If he couldn’t touch Her, at least he could protect Her. And if He couldn’t do that, he might as well just be another asshole in the mud. 

“Dean-“

“No. Don’t tell me what Ruby thinks of my-“ Dean had snapped Her name, and if Sam caught his slip, he didn’t say anything. “Ruby called her a bitch. You know that, Sam? Ruby called her a self-important bitch.”

Sam had—wisely—looked down at his hands with a shameful expression. “I- Dean, I’m not trying to-“

“I don’t care. You know she’s better than Ruby.” She was better than all of them. “And I want her. On the case. Got it?”

Sam had nodded, and that had been the end of it. If She wanted, they’d bring Her on the next seal case. 

If She wanted.

Dean hadn’t asked yet. He hadn’t found a time for it. She was already dealing with enough. 

Yet was another reason they hadn’t had The Conversation. Between the seals, his fights with Sam about Ruby, and the whole dangerous bringer of change thing Cas had dropped on them, this was simply not a good time to start begging Her to tell him what he meant to Her, like he was some kind of pathetic little yipping dog. Trying to get Her attention and affection, when she needed to be working. 

They all needed to be working. 

Dean still spent too much time staring at Her lips, and wondering if just licking them would let him taste the fruit again. 

He’d been staring at Her for too long now. Where She could see it. She’d asked him a genuine question, Dean had been a piece of shit and lost himself in thoughts of licking Her. 

“I, uh- At least you’re coming with us. Instead of Ruby.”

She frowned at him. “What?”

“Next seal case. You’re-“

“Dean,” She sighed, and he’d done something wrong. She was pouting at him a little, and rubbing the scar on Her palm—She’d never actually told him how She got it, but it would once again be far too greedy to take more—so Dean had done something wrong.

“If you want.” He added, trying to keep his voice perfectly even and natural. “They’re just a lot of weird, crazy shit, and you love that stuff-“

“It’s not that.” She whispers, giving him a sad smile. “You remember what Cas said. I- Sam’s right, keeping me away from the seals. That’s not what I’m worried about.”

Dean had a lot of issues with that. To start, Sam was not right. She should not be kept away from anything. Second, and more importantly- “What are you worried about, then?”

“I- I think she’s doing something to him.”

“Ruby? To Sammy?” Dean frowned. Sam was the same. A little angrier, and more exhausted, but the same. 

But She nodded, the movement nervous. “I- I don’t know how. Or what. But I’m really worried about him, Dean, I shouldn’t have run when you-“ She swallowed, and Dean hadn’t missed how She’d been doing that. Aside from their fight in Texas, She never said dead, or died, or death. And Her lips were being chewed raw by her teeth, and Her eyes were a little glazed as she stared at Dean, and- 

There was the wrinkle.

Dean pulled Her fully into his arms without thinking about it. If She wanted to shove him away, She could, and he wouldn’t fight it. But she just dropped Her head into his chest with a long breath, shaking Her head against his body.

“We’re past that, Princess.” He murmured, not sure what else to say. “You’re not running anymore. Remember, I’ll catch you if you try.”

She sighed, the sound a little shaky. “You still need to explain that, Winchester.“

“I’m good.” He shrugged, smiling a little into the air. “I’m not blaming you for what Sam did while I was gone, same as I’m not blaming Sam for you.”

That was a little bit of a lie. But it made Her relax, and She didn’t need to know that he’d shouted at Sam and Bobby for losing Her, so he let it go. 

“Sammy’ll be fine. He’s an idiot, but he’s the smartest little idiot on the planet-“

“He is not little.” She mumbled, and Dean chuckled.

“His soul is little.”

“No, it isn’t.” She buried Her face a little further in Dean’s body. He couldn’t think about it. “It’s big and shiny.”

“Huh.” Dean frowned down at Her. “What about-“

“You’re big and shiny too.”

Warmth inflated in his chest, and that shouldn’t have made him as proud as it did. He was big and shiny. Even if She was obviously hitting the point of sleepy where Dean would think She was drunk if he didn’t know better, She’d called him big and shiny.

And golden. She’d said Dean was golden, and no matter what She could see on his body after Hell, she hadn’t taken it back. 

“What are you?” He asked, running his fingers through Her hair and making his voice soft, and She shrugged. 

“‘M not anything.”

“You-“

“But I can feel it. Everything.” 

“Oh. Of course.” Dean smiled down at Her. “You ready to go home, b- Princess?”

She nodded, but didn’t move. Her fingers curled into his shirt. “What about the next case?”

Dean sighed. He wanted Her there, so fucking much. 

Almost as much as he wanted Her to get what She wanted.

“You don’t have to go-“

“I want to go!” Her voice was almost a whine, and Dean couldn’t let himself think too hard about it as She leaned back, looking up at him with big eyes and shiny hair falling around Her face. “I wanna go Dean, but I- What if the angels don’t want me there?”

“Who gives a shit what they think?”

“I do.” She whispered. “What if they put you back in Hell?”

Dean didn’t know if they could do that. “They won’t.” He hoped he sounded more confident in that than he felt. “They need me for all the seal stuff, and you’re gonna be great at it, so they need you.”

She shook Her head. “They don’t need me. They don’t want me interfering. Cas said they’d take precautions.”

“I don’t care.”

“Dean, I care. I- I’m not already pushing it just by staying with you at Bobby’s, I don’t want to-“ She took a shaking breath, staring at Her hands on Dean’s chest. “We still don’t really know what I am. And if the Magdalene who brought the Roman Empire was barely even five percent…”

“Magic?” Dean offered as She trailed off, and she nodded.

“What am I going to do?”

They hadn’t really talked about this either. The Magdalene thing. Dean didn’t really have anything to say about, because it really hadn’t been an actual answer. They had a name, but no matter how many books She and Sammy read, how many contacts Bobby and Ellen reached out to, nobody had ever even damn heard of it. And angels and demons freaking out about Her wasn’t anything new, and nothing had shifted where She was suddenly some sort of lamb to be sacrificed, or monster to be caged.

She was still just Her. As far as Dean cared, no matter how they framed it, She was Herself, and nothing else really fucking mattered. He’d keep looking for answers because She wanted them, but for Dean, She was enough all on her own. 

“You’ll do whatever you want.” He muttered, holding Her gaze. “And if you want to come on this next one, that’s it.”

She sighed. “Dean-“

He hummed Her name back, and grinned at Her glare.

“What if I’m a seal?” She grumbled. “Have you thought of that?”

“Nope.” Dean slid Her back into her place, pressing a greedy kiss to her brow at the last second. “And I’ll have you however, arfing or not.”

She giggled, shaking Her head. 

It was resting back on his shoulder.

He’s not allowed to think about it.

“That’s not funny.”

“You laughed.”

“I’m tired-“

“And I’m trying to get you to bed.” Dean started Baby’s engine, and She let out a soft hum. “You’ve got a big day tomorrow, Princess. Let’s get you some rest.” 

She didn’t fight it. When Dean pulled Her out of the car, she slumped into his side. He got to all but carry Her up the stairs, and help her back into bed, before crawling in right beside Her. And that was more than anyone else got.

It would have to be enough. For Her to let Dean touch Her at all, when she’d seen what he’d done. For Her to listen to him at all, and agree to go on the case, when all She’d have to say was no, Dean, and he’d drop it. He’d suck it up and deal with Ruby for another week, forcing himself not to grab his phone and call Her every ten minutes. 

But She’d agree. 

She was going on the case. Dean wouldn’t have to deal with Ruby, and—more importantly—he’d get to see Her. All week. In the rearview mirror on the car ride and on the other side of his motel bed, across from him in the diner and next to him at the bar. 

“It’s good we know this is a seal going in.” Sam said, watching Her draw on a paper napkin. 

She’d been doing that a lot, lately. In Enochian, without bothering to tell Sam and Dean what she was doing.

Dean really wasn’t sure how he’d ask. The best he could offer himself was pressing right into Her side and staring over Her shoulder, only half listening as Sam tried to talk about the case.

In his defense, none of them were really paying attention. Dean was staring at Her, She was focused on her napkin, and Sammy kept getting distracted by a redhead making fuck-me eyes at him. Then he’d make the eyes back, before coughing and trying to continue the conversation whenever Dean glanced over and caught him.

She paused, glancing up with a small frown. “Do you usually not know?”

“Sometimes Cas drops in and gives us a heads up,” Dean leaned a little further forward. He didn’t know what he was looking for. He wasn’t magic, and he definitely couldn’t speak angel. “Told us that heaven knows Lilith’s making moves in Florida, and whatever she’s starting, we need to squash.”

She gave Dean an amused look. “Cas did not say making moves.”

“You can’t prove that, sweetheart.” Dean winked at Her, and Sam cleared his throat. 

“We also know what she’s doing-“

“What moves she’s making-“

“Shut up, Dean. A lot of couples have been murdered at the resort we’re headed to.” Sam wrinkled his nose. “Like, a lot. Too many to be normal.”

She hummed, looking back to Her paper. “How many is a lot?”

“Eight.”

“That’s not a lot.”

Sam frowned at Her. “What number would be a lot?”

“I dunno. Fifteen?” 

“That is not a-“

“Yes, it is.” She looked up to Dean. “Fifteen’s a lot, right Deano?”

Sam scoffed. “You can’t ask Dean, he’s just going to agree with you.”

Dean scowled. “No, I’m not.”

“Yeah, you are, dude-“

“Well, you’re not giving him a chance to answer, Sam-“

“And I wasn’t going to agree with her-“

She turned to give Dean a pretty, wide-eyed look, and son of a bitch, his cock twitched in his pants. “You weren’t?”

“I- Uh.” Dean coughed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I didn’t really think about it! You and Sam started yelling and shit, I wasn’t really paying attention-“

“Why?” Sam raised his brows, suddenly looking a hell of a lot more smug than earlier. “What were you looking at instead, Dean?”

Dean narrowed his eyes. “Shut up, Sammy. Go flirt with the redhead who’s been making eyes at you and leave us alone.”

Sam sighed. “We’re in the middle of a case, Dean-“

“Technically the case hasn’t started,” She hummed. “And we get it. Dying couple, resort, Lilith, figure out exactly what the seal is and stop it from being broken. Easy.”

“It’s not easy, and you haven’t even heard the actual plan yet-“

“We’ll go undercover,” She refocused on Her napkin, voice smooth and bored. “We’ll need a patron, a bartender, and a staff member. Optimized access to the facility, a lot of good reasons to talk to people, none of us too out of place for talking to each other.”

Sam frowned. “How would staff and patrons talking not be conspicuous-“

“Staff could be work friends. Patron could be just nosing their way into the conversation. As long as we’re careful, it’ll be fine. The patron will have to stay in their room, to keep appearances, but I doubt Lilith is wire-tapping phones.”

Sam’s mouth opened and closed, and he finally gave in with a sigh. It was a good plan. Of course it was. It was Her plan.

Dean let that show all over his face, as he shot Sammy a smug look. They hadn’t even gotten to the seal yet, and his girl was already killing it. Ruby would’ve talked about sneaking around and breaking in and other stupid shit. She was smarter than that. 

“Go flirt with the redhead, Sam.” She didn’t look up from Her napkin, and Sam sighed.

“I’m not- It’s almost valentine’s day, guys, I’m not trying to be. You know. The guy.”

She looked up. “The guy? What’s the guy?”

“You- Dean knows. He’s been the guy-“

“Sam.” Dean grunted. “Shut it. Go flirt.”

She shook Her head, frowning between them. “I- Sam, what’s the guy-“

“It’s a dude thing.” Dean snapped, and She scoffed.

“I thought we were breaking gender barriers, Winchester. You did me and Jo’s girl things-“

Sam grinned. “What girl things?”

“Nothing. Both of you, shut the fuck up. Sam,” Dean pointed firmly at the red-head with the fuck-me eyes. “Flirt. And you,” Dean turned his glower down to Her, and she covered his mouth with a hand.

That shouldn’t have been as effective as it was. Dean was suddenly too consumed by Her hand—warm and soft and over his mouth—to keep protesting.

“Sam, what’s the guy.”

At least Dean got an apologetic look first. “It’s, uh- The valentine’s day bar guy. Who sleeps with lonely women, because he knows that’s all they want. And,” Sam was still talking. Why the hell was Sam still talking. “Dean hasn’t been that guy in a long time, I promise, I was just making fun of him.”

“Oh.” Dean couldn’t read the expression on Her face. “Okay. Go.”

Sam frowned. “Go-“

“Redhead, Sam.” Her hand dropped from Dean’s mouth. He wanted it to come back. He could kiss Her knuckles, then pin her arms over her head and-

Dean could not get another boner in public, just from thinking about Her. He needed to pull it together.

“But, uh-“ Sam was still protesting, scratching the back of his neck. “I’m not-“

“Maybe she’ll be your soulmate or something.” She shrugged, looking back to the napkin. Dean couldn’t read that tone either. “Go.”

“I, I haven’t done that,” Sam rubbed the back of his neck, glancing down the bar. “In a while. What if-“

“You’ve got this, Buddy.” She gave Sam a thumbs up, and Her voice was bubbly. Dean’s never heard Her be bubbly before. “Go.”

Sam nodded slowly, scooted out of his chair, and the moment Sam was out of earshot, she sighed and rolled Her eyes at Dean.

“Thank god. I could like, fucking feel her.”

Dean frowned. “What?”

“The redhead.” She nodded to where Sam had disappeared in the crowd, Her attention back on the napkin. “She’s been staring at him all night, and god, she’s horny, Dean. It’s like, all over the table.”

She wasn’t tired. She’d actually slept really well last night. And She still didn’t drink, so Dean didn’t need to be worried about that.

He still didn’t have a clue what She was talking about.

“What.”

She sighed, looking up to Dean. He couldn’t breathe. “Her soul. When someone want companionship, they put out like, pheromones. Kind of. It’s hard to explain when you can’t see them.”

“Oh.” Dean paused, then tensed as it hit him. She could tell when people were horny.

Dean was horny all the fucking time.

“Son of a bitch.”

“Are you-“

“Yeah, Princess I’m-“ He swallowed. “Can you just like, see it? When people are, uh. Lookin’ for action?”

“No. It’s, like- It’s not a smell, but it’s not not a smell, and they’re kinda like tentacles-“ 

“Tentacles-“

“No, but yes, and-“ She sighed, shaking Her head. “I’m sorry. I don’t know how to explain it-“

“Hey,” Dean grabbed Her hand before he could second think it, and Her lips parted. Hitched breath. 

Shit.

“You’re fine.” He muttered. “I was just wondering. Don’t hurt yourself, Princess.”

She nodded slowly, still staring at him, and Dean could feel the heat on his face. This was getting too close to something that might cause The Conversation. Dean was not ready for The Conversation.

“Uh, since when can you see that shit?”

She let out a long, slow breath. “I don’t know. Being around people is doing… A lot.” She frowned at the napkin. “It’s kind of messy.”

“Messy-“

“Colorful.”

Dean nodded slowly. He didn’t really fucking understand—with Her, he never did—but he knew what mattered. “It’s it too much?” He tried to keep his voice soft, and he was rewarded with a small nod. 

“Too much.”

“Alright.” Dean pushed off his stool, moving his hand to Her lower back. “Let’s go. We’ll pick up Sammy in the morning.”

She blinked at him in adorable confusion. “Dean-“

“C’mon, we’re going back to the motel.” Dean smirked over at where the redhead was half in Sam lap. “Think we’re done here anyway.”

Dean was certainly done here. He was done anywhere that would make Her curl up into Herself, and there was nothing else for him to do—in this bar or anywhere in the world—but care for Her. 

Sammy seemed happy with his fuck-me-eyes redhead, but Dean was going to have to punch him later for bringing up how Dean used to be one of those guys. It didn’t matter that he had been. Dean had—very purposefully, for a long time—been one of those guys, and he’d been pretty fucking good at it. He wasn’t such a fucking asshole to deny that he had very much thrived on being one of those guys. It had kept him satiated in the dark, the brief touches and lies of permanence and possession. It may have been an artificial light—leaving him hungrier and lonelier than before, once the effects wore off—bur it had worked. He’d done it. And he wouldn’t take it back, because the pit might have swallowed him otherwise. 

But Dean wasn’t one of those guys now.

He really hadn’t been for a while. He hadn’t been that guy on Valentine’s day, but he also hadn’t been that guy at random bars, or the roadhouse, or on the cases. And he didn’t know when it had stopped all together-

That was a fucking lie. 

He knew exactly when it stopped.

It was sooner than he’d ever admit to anyone. It wasn’t after he got back from hell, or he found out about Her magic stuff, or when she learned about the deal and stayed. It wasn’t even when he’d started sharing Her bed.

She’d settled into the backseat of his car like She belonged there, decided to stay for the first time after those witches in Utah—when they’d been looking for Jo and found Her—and Dean had been done with bars and fuck-me eyes. Done with artificial light to keep him from falling into the pit.

And She’d told him about photosynthesis, a while ago. He didn’t know how the hell that had worked itself into a conversation, but She said it’s how plants eat, Deano. They absorb the sunlight and turn it into energy. 

Dean might be a plant. 

She might be the sun. 

And he couldn’t go back to artificial light if he tried.

He did still make fuck-me eyes, though. As he stood alone in the shower—Her long asleep in their bed—Dean could admit he made fuck-me eyes a lot. At Her.

She never seemed to see them, though. Even when they’d been obvious, and he’d been so fucking worried he’d been caught, nothing on Her features had ever shifted. 

Other people made fuck-me eyes at Her, as well. They have to be insane and blind and stupid not to. Everyone should want Her. Dean just didn’t want anyone else to have Her. Not like that. Not less than She deserved, without complete fucking devotion and a feral kind of feeling in their bodies Dean knew he had. And he wouldn’t have any logical reason to stop Her if she took up their offers—he could try no, I’m yours, take me instead, but he didn’t think it would work—and he’d gotten really good at not destroying himself about the idea, because She never did.

Dean had never seen Her fuck-me eyes, now that he thought about it. Not where he could see. 

But he knew She did give him the fluttering, blinding wouldn’t it be good to die for me eyes. 

She might not know she does that.

She can’t know the way that just picturing them is making him so hard it’s a little painful. Just like She can’t know that, before he crawled into bed at Her side, he’d beat his cock into his hands until he came with a groan of Her name.

Dean shouldn’t have kissed Her. 

The knowledge of how She tasted, felt, sounded—gasping his name like She wanted him—was making his decade long practice of best friend, don’t think about Her like that in the daylight, because you don’t deserve it and could never have it a little fucking impossible.

But he was hiding it well.

Dean was pretty fucking sure he was hiding it well.

“There’s no fucking way she’s being the patron, Sammy.” 

She glared at him in the rearview mirror, and Sam looked really fucking amused and pleased for a guy that had stumbled back twenty minture late without underpants.

Dean would’ve ever been proud of him—if he had to be stuck in the orbit of some sort of fucking Goddess he couldn’t touch, at least Sammy was getting some—if he hadn’t just suggested something fucking insane. 

“I can be the patron.” She snapped, Her eyes narrowing. “I’d be a great fucking patron. I can wear a swimsuit, and order stupid drinks, and- and I can act ditzy! And sit on the beach!”

Son of a bitch, She was adorable. Glaring at Dean, mumbling about how She could be ditzy—ditzy people didn’t use the word ditzy—and completely fucking missing the point. Dean knew She’d be a good patron. Between the three of them, She’d be the best patron. She already looked the better and fancier than everyone else part, all the time. She already carried Herself like an angel fallen to Earth—better, actually, because the angels tended to walk all stiff and angry—and She already spoke like if She told the ocean to stay at low tide forever, it would. She’d just need to lose all the softer light in Her eyes and blinding smile that told people She was crafted only from good things, to stop using Her manners, and be a whole lot less adorable and caring, and they’d have their perfect patron.

But Dean was, once again, a selfish piece of shit. 

The patron would have to sleep in the resort. Alone.

Away from the other two.

She’d have to sleep away from Dean.

“I’m not worried about your talents, Princess.” He muttered. “Sammy’ll be a good patron, I can tend bar, and you can be staff.”

Sam raised his hand. “I’m not going to be a good patron. There are like, different forks I’ll have to use, and I never learned those-“

“I did!” She leaned forward, almost propping Her chin on Dean’s should. It wasn’t helping. “I took etiquette lessons until, um- Well, until I made all the cups explode because I needed to pee and no one would let me, but I remember all the forks!”

God fucking damnit. Of course She knew all the forks. “You’re not going to a gala, Sammy. You don’t need to know about the forks.”

Dean’s grip on Baby’s wheel was white, and his last plea for this to end in his favor failed.

He lost the argument. Sam wasn’t comfortable trying to act all fancy,  She had what Sam called a sort of scary pretty face that important people have—She’d flushed and mumbled a thanks, but Dean agreed with Sam’s assessment—and Dean wasn’t allowed to just shout that he couldn’t sleep without Her. 

He fucking couldn’t. He didn’t know how anymore. At least not useful sleep, where he woke up alert and rested the next morning.

Sleep where he woke up panting and swinging at the air came just fine without Her. 

It thrived on the lack of Her, actually. It festered and spread over Dean’s skull, when he didn’t know She was across the mattress, safe and sound.

He somehow made it through the first night. The day had been filled with quick set-up—this resort didn’t seem to be run all that well, given how Sam and Dean didn’t even have to lie that hard about why they needed jobs right now—and recon, and it meant Dean collapsed on the bed barely a moment after he and Sammy returned to the motel. 

But then the morning came. And Dean turned to look and check that She was there and peaceful, because he did that every morning, only to find Her missing. 

He panicked.

Sam said he panicked.

Dean didn’t really remember it at all. There was a blur of ripping up the motel room and grabbing his gun, Alistair’s voice muttering in his ear that he’d find her, Dean’s lovely little Princess, and make Her beg for death ringing in his ears. It didn’t help that all he could really see was an image of Her from Texas, with ragged hair and hollow features and dark stain on Her stomach, red markings imprinted on Her wrists and a skeletal expression on Her face that made Dean want to dice and carve whoever the hell had done that to Her. 

He couldn’t scrape that image from behind his eyes. Sammy had brought him down—reminding him that She was fine, and at the resort, and had literally texted Dean twenty minutes before he woke up that she was going to try and sneak him some good coffee—but he couldn’t fucking relax because all he could see was Her. In pain.

When She’d needed Dean, and he hadn’t been there.

The day was long. Sam stopped by on his breaks, saying that he’d been looking for signs of demons everywhere but found nothing, and She gave by at random points through the day, giving Dean a bright smile from across the bar and making something to the right of his heart fucking howl. 

“Sam slipped me all the vics reservation records.” She said, eyes focused on Her little paper umbrella as Dean cleaned a glass. “And he says he can’t find any demons.”

Dean sighed. “Yeah, I heard. You seeing anything?”

“Nothing.”

Dean risked a glance over. Her lip was between Her teeth.

He had to rip his gaze back away.

“We looked at the files last night.” He muttered, trying to pretend he didn’t want to grab Her over the bar and kiss Her until she moaned his name. “None of them had the same last name. Not married couples.”

She paused. “That’s- huh. I was eavesdropping-“

Dean couldn’t stop himself from shooting Her a grin. “That’s pretty freakin’ rude, Princess-“

“Shut up. There were these two old ladies, and they were saying one of those poor girls had such a bright future, too. They mentioned finding the ring on the beach, and, you know, how big and shiny it was.” 

Dean frowned. “The ring?”

“Yep. So not married, but-“

“Engaged.” He muttered, glaring down at his well-polished glass. “Shit, I’ll pass it to Sammy later.”

She nodded, and was gone before Dean could say anything else. . 

Night fell, Dean left Her at the resort, and the nightmares were back in full fucking force. 

This time She was sitting on the edge of the bed in Boston, Dean rose up to kiss Her, and she turned into ugly mold and dirty water, seeping into the bed, then down, down, down into the floor. Vanishing like She’d never been there at all.

That one was going to be reoccurring. Dean had been getting a lot of new nightmares lately, and he’d gotten really good at telling which ones were going to haunt him for a long, long time. 

It kept going like that for a few days. Valentine’s Day itself was creeping up, and they hadn’t found any evidence that it was itself important to the seal, but they hadn’t really found any evidence at all. 

Sammy still hadn’t found any demons, but he had heard rumors from the other staff that some of the girls had been see cheating, hours before their deaths. And after She heard similar rumors, they decided to focus their energy there.

“Maybe it’s like…” Sam had trailed off at the motel table that night, frowning at his laptop. “The seal opens if enough girls cheat on their partners.”

Dean scowled, turning his beer bottle between his hands. She’d smiled at him today, and Her lips had looked glossy, and he couldn’t tell if his head was fuzzy from want or drinking. “That doesn’t make sense, Sammy.”

“No.” Sam had sighed. “It doesn’t.”

Dean’s next nightmare was another frequent flyer. One where Azazel flayed Her and Bobby alive, and but it kept flicking between Azazel and Dad, then it ended with Her broken body in Dean’s hands and Azazel-Dad telling him that it was for his own good.

They still had fucking nothing.

Dean’s job sucked. They found another set of bodies, but he was stuck behind the bar. He had chicks making the fuck-me-eyes at him, but whenever She’d stop by for their briefings, She barely met his gaze. 

It was for their cover. In case something was watching that even Her magic shit couldn’t detect. 

It still made his stupid heart whine. 

And at least Dean got to see Her. Got to chance quick, assessing scans over Her body, just to make sure She was still okay. There was no dried blood on Her lips or caking her nails, and no scratch marks visible on Her arms. Her wrists looked a little odd, but that might be sunburn, or chafing. She was wearing Her jacket, which meant she had Her knife.

It also meant he needed to be worried about Her getting heatstroke.

“You need some ice, sweetheart?” It was an acceptable thing to ask. Sometimes Shirley temples needed ice, and Dean was a bartender.

“No, thank you. If I eat ice, my fingers will get cold. And I won’t be able to hold my pencil.” She gave him a small, pretty smile under Her fluttering lashes. “Thank you, though.”

He couldn’t help himself. “You already thanked me, Princess.”

“Eat my fucking balls.”

Dean had to cough to cover his snort. 

At least he got to hear Her voice in something other than a fantasy or nightmare. 

“I got confirmation about the cheating.” She continued like nothing had happened, although it felt a little more like she was telling Her napkin rather than Dean. “I talked to a woman who was friends with one of the vics, and apparently she’d been talking about leaving her fiancée for some random new guy.”

Dean frowned. He’d been doing that a lot this week. “And this lady is still on her vacation?”

She shrugged, a small smile tugging on Her lips. “Get your money’s worth, I guess.”

That was all he was getting, it seemed. Maybe all She had.

Dean cleared his throat. “So, uh-“

“Text me.” She gave Dean a soft, dark smile that made his knees weak, and slid Her napkin across the counter. 

Those weren’t Her fuck-me eyes. They were a cover, so She could tell him not now, call me later. The napkin didn’t even have one of Her burner phone numbers. It was just a bunch of Enochian, with one specific word-thing repeated over and over.

That night, Dean had one of the older nightmares. A green demon grabbing Her, driving it’s knife right into Her stomach, and Dean unable to move or do anything as She bled out on the motel floor. Then Bobby would burst through the door shouting things that Dean couldn’t hear, but still hurt, before pulling out his shotgun, aiming it at Dean’s head and never pulling the trigger.

The nightmare never ended with Bobby pulling the trigger. Usually they’d just stare at each other for a long time, and Dean would see all his own pain and devastation from Her loss reflected on Bobby’s face, and then—after an eternity—he’d wake up. 

And he’d been right.

Dean made the mistake of falling back asleep after hour, and the kiss-death nightmare returned.

This day was the slowest yet. Dean hadn’t seen Sam since they split up this morning, and he hadn’t seen Her all day. He’d been doing nothing but turning over the case in his head, and he didn’t even have anyone to tell his ideas.

He missed Her. He didn’t know how he was going to go another fucking night without Her, he didn’t know how he’d ever gone a night without Her, no wonder Bobby had told him he looked like shit every single day She’d been gone, he wasn’t fucking sleeping-

“Hey.” She dropped onto the stool across from him, almost conjured—maybe they should revisit that angels thing, because what Dean had been doing did feel a little too close to prayer—and Her hair falling over her eyes. “Anything?”

Her voice was a little shaky, but the bar was loud, so Dean pressed on. “Yeah, uh- I was thinking about how they’ve all been cheaters, right? But it’s only been the chicks.”

“That’s… right.” She paused. She still wouldn’t look Dean in the eyes. “Shit.”

“Yeah, and you know the girl that died second day we were here?” He picked up a new glass. He’d gotten better at pretending to be busy. “All her friends were gossiping about stuff, and one of them said that it was real sad she died a virgin.”

She sat up at that. He had Her attention. “What?”

Her voice was definitely shaky. And a little smaller.

Dean would ask Her about it after. “And you told Sam that those ladies said they couldn’t believe the other mister and missus corpse waited so long, and we thought they were taking about like, engagement-“

“But they were talking about sex.” She muttered. “Fuck.”

“Is that, uh, that’s a good fuck, right?”

“Dean.” She whispered, and he wished She would fucking look at him. “I know what we’re hunting. Fuck, it’s, one shouldn’t even be here but maybe that’s the seal, maybe she gamed it and there aren’t any demons or angels because- but I’ve been- Fuck-“

Dean grunted Her name, throwing cover out the window. “Breathe. You’re fine, you’ve got it, and we’ll gank it and go home-“

“No, Dean, it’s-“ She had started to shake Her head, the movement almost frantic, and She was rubbing her wrists like she was trying to scrub something away. “Fuck- It’s a Pink Boto- I should’ve known, they lure in young women and seduce them, then kill their- Fuck-“

This was getting away from them too fast. Dean damned it further, and grabbed Her face between his hands over the bar. She stopped shaking Her head. Her breathing didn’t slow. “Listen, you’re gonna be fine-“

“I can’t remember, Dean, I- Fuck- I don’t know what to do- I need to know what to do- Why can’t I fucking-“

“Cause you’re tired, Sweetheart, we’re all tired-“

“But I- No-“

“Hey.” Dean made his tone firm, and She froze. “Look at me, Princess. Please.”

She slowly glanced up, and Her eyes were a little glossy. Puffed. Red.

She’d been crying. 

Dean moved faster than he thought.

He tangled his fingers in Her’s, abandoned the bar—it was a shitty bar anyway, and all their whiskey that Dean wasn’t supposed to be drinking tasted like piss—and pulled Her into a small backroom he’d found on one of his breaks. 

“What happened.” He grabbed Her face between his hands, trying to gently angle it so he could find the damage. It was probably on Her body. “Where’s- Shit, I didn’t grab the rubbing alcohol- Stay here and keep it elevated-“

“No- Dean-“ She grabbed his arm before he could move out of the closet, Her eyes wide. “I’m not hurt. It’s just-“ She let out a long, slow breath, and Dean’s heart might have stilled in his chest. “It’s been a long day.”

He nodded slowly. “You gonna tell me about it?”

“I- I can’t.” She whispered. “It’s not that bad, Dean, it’s stupid- I shouldn’t have even, and Sam-“

Dean’s jaw clenched. Sam wouldn’t hurt Her. Even if they lived in a world where Sam didn’t like Her—which he did, the kid fucking adored Her—he cared about Dean too much to hurt Her. They might be fighting about Ruby and the seals, but Sammy was his brother and wouldn’t fucking hurt the only person Dean-

“Sam was trying to help.” She sniffed, and Dean’s fists relaxed. Of course he was. That was good. “But I- Dean, I’m so tired-“

“I know. ” He muttered, letting his hands move back up to frame Her face. “We’re almost done, sweetheart. Then we’ll go home.”

And it was a lie. They both knew it was a lie. They weren’t going to be done. Even if they stopped this seal, there were more. Lilith didn’t seem like the type to roll over and go quietly, and Ruby was still a fucking problem, and She was still something the angels were hunting for insane and cryptic reasons.

Dean hadn’t forgotten what Cas told them. 

Her existence heralded danger. Change. Something big, that they’d have to deal with after this.

But they’d deal with it, and She’d still be here.

And Dean would stay at Her side, all the way down. Her shadow however She wanted it, running his thumb down the bridge of Her nose until She relaxed into his arms. 

“It’ll be okay, Princess.” Dean muttered, and for Her, he’d believe it. 

Even though they had to pull apart, and separate once more. At least they had a name. A better idea of what they were dealing with, so this fight could be done.

But this nightmare was the worst one yet. It was another new one, and Dean didn’t even know what was happening for most of it. There was just a lot of noise, a big crowd, and everything was so fucking colorful. It was like a hurricane, and he was screaming Her name but he couldn’t find Her. She screamed back, but it always echoed around and Dean couldn’t figure out where She was, where did She go, She needed him but he couldn’t find Her-

He burst onto an invisible edge, and started to fall.

Everything was big. Too big. Dean could see a whole lot of the sky, and not much else, and son of a bitch it felt like something was watching him, but She still wasn’t there-

Dean woke up in another cold sweat, and She wasn’t there. 

His phone found it’s away into his hand, and he couldn’t stop staring at the little letters of Her name, a promise on his screen. She was just on the other side of a button. 

It would be dangerous to call Her. Dean couldn’t call Her. He couldn’t risk it.  

He couldn’t take another night of this, and they were always safer together, but the case-

Dean nearly chucked his phone into the wall when it started to buzz. 

It was a good thing he didn’t.

Because She’d called him first.

He’d have to have lost his mind to not answer

“Dean?” Her voice was soft over the phone, and he muttered Her name in response.

“Are you-“

“I’m okay. I, um- Can you…” She trailed off, and for a moment it was only static through the phone. 

“Sweetheart, I need you to talk for me-“

“I don’t want to- This room is really big.”

Dean froze, shooting a quick look over to Sammy. Dead asleep and comfortable. “It is, huh?”

“Yes.” She whispered. “There’s- I have a minibar. It has the chocolate you like. If you’re hungry.” 

“I’m always hungry, Princess.” Dean grinned into the dark. “Parking lot?”

She hummed, Her voice still so soft. “Thank you, De.” 

“I know.”

“Say you’re welcome.”

“Bossy-“

“Dean-“

Dean bit down his snort as he pulled on his shoes. “I’m not saying it. I’m not doing this for the thanks,” He drawled Her name, and he could almost hear Her frown.

“Then what-“

“I’m doing it for you.” Dean didn’t let Her respond. He’d said it for himself, and so She’d know. All She needed to do for him was know. “See you soon.”

They didn’t talk about it, when She grabbed his hand in the parking lot and pulled him into the resort hotel. They didn’t speak at all in the elevator, when She wrapped her arms around his body and pressed Her face to his chest. And when Dean moved Her into bed, dropped on the impossibly soft mattress at Her side, he let out a groan that made Her smile.

He could see it in the dark. 

Same as he could see Her crawl slowly over to his side, drape Herself cautiously over his body, and settle down like the fanciest, smartest, hottest cat in the world.

Dean could be Her shadow like this. Holding Her through the night without a word, drowning in the smell of fruit, and sleeping easy because She was there. With him. 

They never had to talk about it. 

As long as She was with Dean, he could make it into enough.

——————

It’s been a weird week.

You might not have been fully yours for half of it. You’ve been the anxiety of all the guns in Bobby’s house, and the exhaustion of all the roads and bridges you drove over, and the heaviness of the ocean right out your window. The Silver is growing and infecting everything, and you can’t control when it decides to want to become the whole fucking universe, or when it slams back into your body.  For almost every waking moment you’ve been suffocating in it, the fear that it will hurt something and the terror that—as you rub your wrists and try to just focus the Silver, even without pain—something will hurt you.

You really haven’t been yours at all. All the time.

Almost all the time.

You’ve been yours with Dean.

In the Impala at midnight, bumping his knee and shooting you small grins across diner tables, all but carrying you out of the bar when you get exhausted and your brain starts to get fuzzy. Whenever he’s slept next to you in bed, even if he wasn’t touching you.

And you get that.

You wouldn’t touch you either.

It doesn’t matter how much you want Dean to touch you. How you can’t stop thinking about his lips against yours, about how he tasted a little like coffee and the apple you’d made him eat that morning, but he mostly just tasted like Dean. Salt and spice, sort of earthy, and Dean.

He’d been warm above you. You remember him being so fucking warm and safe above you, and he had touched you like he wanted you—with a lot of rough hands on your skin and soft groans and all his weight pressed over you—but he hasn’t touched you since. Not like that. His hand still rests on your lower back when he guides you around, and sometimes you’ll wake up with his fingers tracing over your stomach like he’s worried your long-gone stitches are going to rip, but he hasn’t touched you.

But it really doesn’t fucking matter how much you want to tackle him and kiss him until you’re both just sunken down to the floor, you can’t.

Rule one is this isn’t about you. Kissing Dean would be about you, not him. Rule two is you can’t overindulge. He thought you were dying, and he kissed you, and you didn’t break anything because Dean kissed you, but you’re not allowed to grab that and run with it. He hasn’t kissed you since, and you’re not allowed to kiss him, so now you’re here.

Loving him. Silently.

And fucking hating this stupid fucking case that’s going to make you fucking stab someone.

You shouldn’t have let Dean talk you into this. But you’d missed him, whenever he and Sam went off on a case without you and you were stuck at home. And it’s not about you if Dean asked you to come.

Plus, you were getting what Bobby called hunter fever.

“That’s not a thing.” You’d muttered when he’d brought it up, and he’d scoffed.

“I ain’t just makin’ it up for shits and giggles, kiddo. It’s real and you’ve got it.”

“I feel fine-“

“No, you fuckin’ don’t.” Bobby had given you a flat look. “You been runnin’ around like a headless dog all week-“

“That’s not the saying.”

Bobby had ignored your mumble, pushing on with narrowed eyes. “You’ve started readin’ on the floor again. You only do that when you’re losin’ your damn mind.“

“I am not losing my mind.” You’d snapped. “I’m trying to figure out what the fuck I’m supposed to do now that we know. What if I start the end of the fucking world? What if my thing is like, the sun explodes, or the moon decides it want to be part of earth again, or- Fuck, what if I kill God-“

“God ain’t real,” Bobby had said your name firmly, dropping down at your side. “And if he is, you’re not killin’ him.”

“But Cas said that Lilith was a Magdalene, and she started demons, and- shit, what if I start something worse than demons? What if I start super-demons?”

Bobby had sighed. “You ain’t gonna start super-demons. We don’t know what your thing is gonna be, but we’ll work it out when it gets here-“

“But what if it’s really bad.” You’d whispered. “He called me the Magdalene. That- I don’t know what that means-“

“I don’t either. And it sounds like Cas don’t have that big a clue either.” Bobby had run a hand over his face, letting out a long breath. “You’re not helpin’ anything by worrying about it. Or doin’ this.”

He’d tapped the papers scattered over the table, all covered in Enochian, and you’d swallowed.  

Some of it was just the soul exercise. Trying to map out Bobby’s soul, watching Sam and Dean when they were home and trying to figure out what the hell they were made of. A lot of it was new rituals or attempts to figure out who other Magdalene witches could’ve been—Cas had made it sound like they could be born anywhere in the world, which really didn’t narrow down anything—and an embarrassing amount of it was just trying to figure out how to write Dean’s name. 

Your excuse was that writing something on purpose would help you distinguish Enochian in your head. 

The real reason was that you loved him, and needed at way to show it where no one else could see. 

“When was the last time you went this long without a hunt.” Bobby’s voice had been soft. Cautious. 

And you’d sighed. “I’ve never gone this long. You know that.”

“Hunter fever. You’re gettin’ sick of being still and not doin’ shit, and it’s makin’ all this,” Bobby had tapped one of the notes. “Worse.”

“That’s so fucking stupid.”

“Hey,” Bobby had given you a glare, the expression massively undercut by the small smile he was failing to fight. “Don’t be rude, kiddo. Raised you better than that.”

“No you didn’t-“

“Tried to.” He’d shrugged, moving back to his feet. “Not my fault it didn’t take.”

You’d rolled your eyes, glanced down at your chewed up pencil—another new habit, because apparently if you couldn’t bite yourself you had to bite something—and you might have had hunter fever. Between the notes, and the restless itch. settling over your bones, sinking deep and deeper every second, it makes sense. You’ve always been moving until the pain made you drop. Now you can’t move, and goddamnit Bobby really was right.

Hunter fever. 

That was a stupid name. You’d told Bobby that, and he’d said that if you come up with a better one he’s all ears, but until then he invented it, so he gets naming rights. 

And the hunter fever had only gotten worse, the longer Sam and Dean were on that case. You’d gone to the library and checked out so many history books you’d had to make two trips to get them all in the Firebird. You’ve been watching so many documentaries that Bobby set a three per day rule, and started making you stop between them so you remembered to eat and use the bathroom. You’ve run out of paper to write on, so you’ve switched to pen and started drawing on yourself. It pricks your skin, but it’s better than carving with your knife or nails when the Silver gets set off by nothing and you can’t reign it back in. 

And you’ve started to keep track of all the times Dean could’ve kissed you and didn’t. 

Every night in the Impala. Whenever he’s been a little drunk and you’ve helped him to bed, letting him hang around your body before pouring the rest of his beer down the toilet. When he’s grinned up at you from the couch, and any time he’s called you Princess, and every waking second where you’re in the same room, and he could grab you and do whatever the hell he wanted to you, and you’d be fine with it because it’s Dean.

It’s most likely for the best that he doesn’t. For so many reasons. You’re dangerous. You’re a Magdalene, and knowing is better than not knowing, but you still don’t fucking know a lot. You’re not exactly stable, and neither is Dean, but letting yourself crash into him isn’t going to make him more stable. It would only make the Spiderweb glow, and fully consume you with Gold, and this isn’t about you. It can’t be about you.

And only a few days before you left for Florida—when Dean was still gone and your room was colder and lonelier—Cas appeared in the middle of your room, the only warning of a glowing sigil on the wall.

He’d said your name with a deep, serious tone, and you’d sighed.

“Hi, Cas.”

“You told me we needed to speak again. About my timing.” He glanced around your room, a small frown pulling at his features. “I am here to do that.”

“I don’t care about your timing.” You’d sighed, moving to lie flat on your back. “That was a cover.”

“A cover over what?”

“Over why I needed to talk to you. It’s a phrase.”

“Oh.” You’d craned your neck up, and Cas blinked at you. “What talk are we covering?”

You’d rubbed at your wrists, lying back down. “Can you sit, please?”

“This body can sit, yes-“ Cas had cut himself off, and you’d let him work through that one himself. “You are… asking me to sit.”

“Yep.”

“I do not need to-“

“Cas. Please.”

You’d expected more resistance. Instead he’d just dropped awkwardly at your side, shifting uncomfortably on the edge of the mattress. “This is... better. Thank you.”

You’d hummed an acknowledgment, squeezing your eyes shut. “I’m going to ask you a question, and I need you to be honest with me.”

“I cannot promise-“

“You have to.” You hadn’t cared if he could hear the desperation in your tone. “Please.”

Cas had paused for a long moment that was tight over your lungs, then sighed. “Alright.”

He’d folded with such little resistance, again.

That didn’t really feel like a good sign.

“Thanks.” You’d mumbled. “Ready?”

You glanced over to see him staring at you, giving a small nod, and you’d taken a long breath.

“You said I could be what you’ve been waiting for.” You’d muttered, running your thumb over your palm as you spoke. “What does that mean.”

Cas had been silent for a long second, only staring, and you’d briefly wondered if this was what it felt like for everyone else, when you’d look at them and see their souls.

It was a little unnerving. 

“When I said that.” He starts, his words slow and measured. “I was not aware of what you were. However, I am… not sure that matters.”

You’d frowned. “What, that I’m a Magdalene? I thought that was the whole thing-“

“You are the Magdalene.” Cas had corrected. “But that is not the… reason, I guess. I was not considering that, when we spoke before.”

“So am I not whatever you’ve been waiting for?”

“No.”

“No, I’m not, or-“

“You are.”

You’d sighed, pushing up on your palms to fully meet his gaze. “Cas. What have you been waiting for.”

“God.”

Maybe you should’ve had a bigger reaction to that. Cas must have noticed the complete neutrality on your face. But even in the safety of your room, where the Sky couldn’t see you, you’d still been able to feel it. The Silver had started to seep out, and you had been the fear of the vines on Bobby’s house, and they had felt the Sky watching them.

So you’d just swallowed, and taken a long, slow breath.

Why not. Between angels and Dean rising from the dead and the Sky, why not have God be a fun, new problem too. 

“There will be consequences. For you being the Magdalene. And I do not think even my superiors fully understand them.” Cas paused, holding your gaze. “From what I have found, you have long been thought to be a lie. A sort of… myth, is what you might call it.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard about how my kind aren’t real-“

Cas had shaken his head. “Not the Magdalenes. You.”

“Oh.” You’d swallowed, and Cas had sighed.

“That is what I meant, before. It is not the Magdalene in you. It is you.” He’d said your name, still watching you so carefully. “There is something… holy.”

You’d blinked at him. “About me?”

Cas had nodded. “It is more than an angel grace. Or a soul. I have only seen it once, a long, long time ago.”

You’d had a pretty good sense of where this was going, and you really hadn’t wanted to hear it, but you were so tired of not knowing. Of only ever having more questions. “Where did you see it?”

“The only time I met my father.” Cas had muttered, frowning down at you, and maybe he’d been able to see it then. In the dark of your bedroom, at midnight, there was an impossibly high chance that Cas looked at you and saw something holy. 

That was more terrifying than anything in the world.

You aren’t holy. You’re barely more than a monster. You’re sick and in pain and exhausted, and you don’t know what looking at you and seeing holy means, but you know it can’t be good.

Nothing you ever do leads to something good. 

Dean will never get to know it, but you’re starting to think John really should’ve saved everyone a whole lot of trouble and put a bullet in your brain. You’re making everything harder. You’re not good for anything but hunting, and you can’t even really do that anymore. You’re going to hurt or break or infect something, because that’s what you do, and just because the Darkness is gone doesn’t mean you’re cured. If anything it means you’ve evolved, like a pathogen or bacteria, and now you can press further and further into the world without resistance. 

You’re not good for Dean. John was right about that, too. You just take from him—his time and sleep and attention—and you’re not going to leave because you promised, but one day Dean’s going to find someone better for him, who never makes him yell or cry or worry, and they’re going to demand you’ll leave.

It’s another reason you fucking hate this case. It’s full of sweet, pretty women with no scars and toothy smiles, humming syrupy words to Dean, right in-front of you.

And they have no way of knowing that you even know Dean. And he doesn’t even look at them. 

But one day he will. 

Then you’ll have to live with that. 

For now you can cling to how Dean brushes off the better women in favor of giving you small, cocky grins. You can feel the bright, colorful rush of the Spiderweb glowing under his attention. You’re addicted to it. 

And God, it’s going to kill you when he finds the woman that makes you leave. Who makes Dean happy, but gets uncomfortable about the weird freak who keeps following him around like they don’t know what else to do—you don’t—and then you’ll have to leave, because Dean loves her and not you. 

You already hate her, and it’s not even her fault. She’s not real. She didn’t do anything to you except not be you. You can’t blame her for not having scars littered in odd places across her body, for having the type of softness and experience and ease that Dean deserves. It not her fault she never makes him kill things for her, or forces him to carry her to safety when she loses her mind like some weak fucking problem. 

And she won’t depend on him. Not like you do. She won’t be a parasite or leech that wants to wrap around Dean and drench herself in gold. She’ll be able to sleep without him, because she’ll be kind and normal and stable. She’ll never draw her own blood or vomit from grief, because Dean will settle down in a simple, white-picket life with her and forget all about how he ever even considered wanting you. 

She won’t be a sickness that’s not strong enough to cure itself. She won’t try to get better, just to make everything so much fucking worse. 

Things won’t be complicated with her. She’ll deserve Dean, and all his Gold.

You don’t. You’re not even close to deserving Dean. He never fucking falters, even under all the crushing weight of everything. All the blood on his hands he had to shed, and every worse thing he’s done was because he had to. 

Dean was pushed into everything. It wasn’t his fault that John made him hunt. He made that deal to save Sam because he’s a good, selfless man. He broke in hell because anyone would’ve broken in hell, and he’d still held on for so fucking long before he gave in, because he was strong.

You’re not.

You’re just like this. 

The first day without him is the worst. You’re alone for most of it, save for when Sam finds you and hands you a towel, the vic records folded into them. He mutters that there’s been no sulfur or temperature drops, and you nod, mumbling an agreement.

You see Dean once. Smiling at a one of those better women from behind the bar.

And his grins goes wide and boyish, the moment he spots you, and it sets off fireworks over the Spiderweb, but you can’t get addicted to that. It’s not going to be permanent. 

But it’s not overindulging if Dean’s grinning at you.

So you smile back.

And that night, you try not to think about it too much. About Sam’s words at the bar, when he’d called Dean one of those guys.

You’d known that. You’ve never been bothered by it. He’s never done it in front of you—where it would’ve ripped you in half—and you’d never had a claim over him that could’ve made him stop. It hadn’t mattered that you’d follow him all the way down, or that you love him, or that there’s a whole part of you that just for Dean. You’d never thought there was even a chance of him wanting you like that until that amazing, stupid fucking kiss, so you’d simply forced yourself not to think about it.

It’s all you can think about now. Dean sliding a woman that’s not you his motel card, telling Sam to find somewhere else to hang out for a while, then kissing her. And she’d kiss him back without any fear or anxiety, because she’d know how. She’d have an idea of what could drive him crazy, and he’d fall on his knees for her with only joy on his pretty face, and then they’d-

This is torture. The whole night is fucking torture, because all you can wallow and sink into it the loneliness, and the reminder that Dean deserves better. Someone who will match him.

Not someone he’ll have to take care of and guide through everything. 

The morning breaks, and you’re not sure you slept at all. 

The second day is worse. You don’t see Dean at all, and there are so many fucking people, everywhere,  all the time. You hadn’t realized how fucking horrible that would be until you were in it. There had been a lot of people, on the lich case with Jo. But the only time they’d all been in one, loud place was the last night, and you’d been more focused on Dean. On keeping him safe and alive. You’d almost tethered yourself to him, because as long as he was there and Golden, there hadn’t really been much else to look at. 

But then you’d spent those weeks between cases letting the Silver grow and grow, letting Dean soothe it into something easy you didn’t want to fight, and it seems to have bloomed. 

You’ve lost control. You can’t remember the world ever being like this in your life—so loud and consuming and overwhelming—and you barely been able to handle it when you were a child, and it was just single colors lined with quickly fading imprints. 

Now it’s so much. You’re a little bit everything all the time and there’s so much. Why is there so fucking much. This is worse than the bar, when souls had simply been loud and amplified by the drinks and emotions. At least there you’d still be able to cling to Dean’s Gold, to breathe in the smell of spice and try not to think about how a whole lot of desire was blaring out from all the souls in the bar, directed to where you and Dean had been sitting.

It was a new trick. It had started after the kiss. You can see souls creeping and drifting out of their bodies, trying to latch onto other people. Trying to sink into them. You’d been able to see the redhead’s hot pink, almost bubblegummy-ness aiming over Sam, and it had been fucking sickening and pungent. Not for Sam—all the parts of him that were still purple had been vibrating from the attention—but for you, and you’d needed to get it away from you. 

And this is so much fucking worse. There are so many people, so many souls, and twining and burning and washing over each other, and you can still smell Dean’s spice when he’s not here, and you’re going fucking insane.

They found another body, that morning. You didn’t see it, but Sam did, and he said it was ugly. Looked like they got beat up by the ocean, and that some of the staff were whispering about how the girl had been seen cheating before her death.

“I’ll ask around.” You mumble, pretending to be busy with the coffee while Sam takes an impossibly long time to grab the trash. “There’s this group of ladies who have been trying to talk me into going to the beach with them, and I think they knew the vic.”

Sam nods. “I’ll pass it onto Dean.”

You swallow, and the Spiderweb whines. “Tell him I say hi.”

Sam gives you an odd look and his mouth opens, but you walk away before he can speak. You don’t want to hear it. You know Dean wants you, at least enough to kiss you once, but he hasn’t kissed you since.

Maybe it was horrible for him. It was perfect for you, but he’s not in love with you, and he probably has a higher standard for good kisses. He’s hasn’t changed since the kiss, but he hasn’t tried to do it again. 

There’s a chance he’s waiting for you to kiss him, to make the scores even. He kisses you once and puts it on the table. You kiss him again and then you get to have him.

You don’t deserve to have him. And you’re not allowed to kiss him first. 

“What about you?” One of the women—the ones you’d told Sam about, with long nails you really wish it would be practical for you to have—says your name, and you blink at her.

They’d already confirmed that the girl had cheated, and you’d mostly been tuning out the rest of the gossip after that. It was too colorful, and thinking about Dean was better than drowning in the vastness of the Silver, so you’d just focused on that.

But now you had to participate. You hadn’t been ready to participate.

“What about me?” You ask, throwing on a small, nervous smile and slipping back into your role. Ditzy. You’d told Dean you’d be ditzy. 

“A man.” A second woman—Monica? You’re pretty sure her name is Monica—grins at you, leaning back in her chair. “You have one?”

Pretty green eyes and soft hair and full lips and Gold- “No.”

“Oh, come on.” The first woman—Halle? That sounds right—rolls her eyes. “You’re so pretty, babe, you’ve gotta have someone, or there’s no hope for the rest of us.”

“I- I don’t-“

“Is it a girl?” Monica whispers, leaning forward. “It’s okay, you can tell us. We’re like, super chill about that.”

You sigh. “It’s not a girl.”

The last girl—Karen, that one’s easy to remember—grins at you. “So there is someone?”

“No, it’s not- It’s complicated-“

Halle scoffs. “If it’s complicated, he’s an idiot.”

You scowl at that. “No, he’s not-“

“Ha!” Karen grins, and this was a mistake. You should’ve just eavesdropped on their conversation like a normal person. “There is someone! What’s his name?”

“I- I’m not-“ You chew on the inside of your cheek, trying to find a way out. “It’s really complicated. There’s like, a lot of moving parts, and we’ve known each other a really long time-“

“Awww.” Monica gives you a sweet smile. “Childhood friends? That’s so cute!”

“No- It’s more-“ You choke on the word complicated. “I have to go.”

Halle shakes her head as you stand up. “No, wait, we’re sorry, you’re just cool and we thought there had to be someone-“

She’s still talking. Still apologizing. 

But she grabbed your wrist to stop you from leaving. Right where Ketch had tied you up. Right where the lich grabbed you. 

You can’t breathe. The Silver is bursting and burning through the world because no, no, you’re so tired and it hurts and no-

Something shatters, an impossibly large wave sweeps over half the beach, and the wind picks up, ripping through the air like you’re at the top of a mountain.

The women are shrieking in fear, because this shouldn’t be happening, and you run. Not forever. Just until you’re back in your room, staring at your phone and forcing yourself not to call Dean. 

Half of that had been you. The shattering and wave had been you.

The wind had been the Sky. It had been watching. And the cold had bitten your skin, and it had been more of a warning to you than a defense for you. 

And you’re falling apart. You miss Dean, and it’s worse than when he’d been on a case, and you’d been at Bobby’s. At least you’d been a little useful, there. At least you’d had company, and could think about things that were better women, touching Dean in the dark while you were alone in bed. 

Here, you’re useless. You can’t figure out what the hell you’re supposed to be hunting—which is supposed—to be something you’re good at—because it’s all so loud and colorful and you’re not sleeping, and you miss Dean.

Maybe he’s spending this night with another better woman, again. There are plenty to choose from, this luxury resort filled with people to know how to have something and not infect it. And it’s almost Valentine’s day, so they’ll want company, and anyone—whether they can see the Gold or not—should want Dean. Will want Dean. 

You torture yourself with that for another night. The idea of Dean in bed with someone else, touching someone else, kissing them the same way he’d kissed you, but this time they go further, and then the next day you’ll see that the rivers of silver had been painted over with another color.

Embedded. Cas had said you were embedded in Dean, and that couldn’t go away easy, but what if it does. What if only a gentle, knowing touch cures Dean of you forever, and it’s that easy, and he leaves. 

You’d promised you’d stay, but he didn’t. You both said all the way down, but that was before he kissed you. 

It would be smart to want to take it back. To go back to never thinking about that, because you didn’t think it was an option. To not be getting withdrawals from something you never even fucking had, not really.

You know that.

Knowing never helped.

And at least you still have the Gold lingering on your lips. It’s never been there before, and it makes you feel a little like that holy thing Cas had called you. 

You really are fucking useless. Staring at mirrors and trying to write Dean’s name in Enochian and imaging that he’ll burst through your door and sweep you away. 

It doesn’t help that the wrist thing is looking like it’s here to stay.

The next morning, Sam pulls you into an abandoned room for a meeting.

But he grabs you by the wrist.

And you can’t stop yourself from swinging.

Blind, frantic punches thrown into the air, uncoordinated from exhaustion and landing on nothing, someone is shouting your name but there’s a lot of red in them—red like blood, red like poison—and the fists aren’t enough so you grab your knife and start slashing-

Sam shouts your name, and the blur fade enough for you to know it’s Sam, but then he grabs your wrist to stop the fall of your knife, and the Silver explodes.

There’s a crash, and a ringing in your ears, and-

“Holy- Ow.” Sam stumbles up from the floor, his hands raised in the air and the wall a little dented behind him. “What the hell was that?”

You blink at him, the blur fading, and all that’s in its wake is pain. Pain and a gnawing fucking guilt, because you hurt Sam, why the fuck did you hurt Sam, what’s wrong with you and why can’t you control this without trying to kill yourself-

Sam frowns at you, something softening in his gaze. You don’t deserve how gently he says your name. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I-“ You swallow, drawing yourself up tall and forcing your voice to stay even. “I’m sorry. You startled me. Is your back-“

“It’s fine. I mean, it hurts, but I’ve have worse.” Sam pauses. “Are you sure-“

“What do you need, Sam.”

He stares at you and—in a small mercy—doesn’t push it. Whatever Sam can see on your face, he’s able to work out that now is not the time to talk about how he just touched you, and you tried to kill him. 

Sam only sighs, and moves on. 

“I think we’re dealing with some sort of sex demon.” He says, shuffling back to your side. “All the vics have been cheating, but every single thing I’ve heard about them makes it sound like they were really in love. There has to be some kind of manipulation going on.”

You nod slowly, letting out a long breath. “How do you know they were really in love? Just online snooping?”

“They did all just get engaged. And I mean, people make mistakes with that sometimes, but it’s usually a sign of… you know.” Sam shrugs. “A future. Together.”

“Okay.” You frown at the air. “You pass it onto Dean, and I’ll keep looking for what the seal actually is, so we can stop it.”

Sam shakes his head. “I, uh- I’ve actually got the seal, too. Bobby called me.”

“Oh.”

“He would’ve called you.” Sam rubs at the back of his neck, and suddenly the air is wired. “But this is- Um, it’s sort of better to have in person.”

You narrow your eyes. He’s being weird. “Sam. What’s the seal.”

“Bobby thinks.” Sam won’t meet your eyes. “Based on some old texts that be found, some of yours, actually-“

“Samuel-“

“It’s making a true love stray.” Sam mumbles, his gaze locked on the floor. “And Bobby’s theory for the murders that none of them have been a true love, so after they strayed, they got.” Sam winces. “You know.”

“Yeah, okay. That’s- It makes sense.” You pause. “Why does that need to be said in person?”

Sam glances up, something cautious in his eyes. “Because you and Dean need to be careful.”

The world stills a little, like a heart murmur, but you must have just heard him wrong. “What.”

“You and Dean.” Sam mumbles. “Any two people with, um, strong emotions are in danger.”

“Sam.” You keep your words slow and careful. You can’t really hear them over the ringing in your ears. “They’ve been targeting engaged couples. Dean and I are-“

“You’re really obvious!” Sam almost shouts, and you flinch like he’d stabbed you.

“No.” You whisper, shaking your head, wrapping your arms around your stomach, and the Silver isn’t even growing. This isn’t a danger to it. 

It should be. You’re a danger to Dean.

“Sam, we’re just- I’ve told you-“

“Jo told me about the kiss.” Sam’s voice is gentle. You’re going to claw out your own eyes. “And I know you guys are dealing with other things, but you’re not just friends. And I- I’m sorry,” he mutters your name, and a little bile creeps up your throat. “But I knew a long time before that. You guys are obvious, and I’m not trying to tell you want to, you know, do about it. But you have to be careful.”

No. You don’t. Dean doesn’t love you, but you’ve never even looked anywhere but him and the Gold and that deep life in his eyes, so not only is Sam wrong, he’s cruel.

Dean doesn’t want you like that, and if he loves you, it’s not the truest love. It can’t be. You’re you, and you’re a danger, and you’ve never brought him anything but extra work, screams of his name, and your own tears for him to eat. 

You can’t live on tear and names. You could—you could conquer the world if Dean offered you tear and your name from his lips—but nobody sane and easy can. Dean will live off of good food from a better woman.

And you’ll die with the Sky watching you, alone in that high, cold, lonely place it had promised you when you were young.

“Sam.” You whisper, your hand wrapping around your throat on an old instinct, but the Silver still dormant in your body, because it’s lined with the Spiderweb, and the Spiderweb loves the idea of Dean’s love. “Please don’t say that.”

He says your name, and it’s gentle again. You think you’re choking on the air.

“Don’t-“

“I’m really not trying to push you guys to do anything.” Sam’s voice is almost desperate. “I just- I can’t lose you both again. This demon is taking the couples-“

You make a weak sobbing sound, and Sam catches his mistake.

“Pairs, it’s taking the pairs and if you both go, I don’t know- Shit-“ Sam pleas your name, moving to reach for you, and you take a step back.

“I- I’m going to go tell Dean.” Your voice is strained, and you don’t care about the irony of your own words. “Bye.”

You’d promised Dean you wouldn’t run. 

You haven’t promised Sam fucking shit.

And you were running to Dean. You didn’t care if that made you a hypocrite, or liar, or a whore. You needed to see him, because it made the Silver feel good, and the world manage because you could cling to Dean’s Gold, and know it was going to be okay.

Then you break twice. Once at the bar, when you were supposed to be working, but Dean needed to calm you down because it was all too fucking much and you’re useless. Then again when you caved and called him, just to hear his voice—overindulging—and ended with him wrapped around you in bed.

You’d slept. Well. Easily. And Dean looks peaceful, in the shifting light of dawn, starting to break through the windows. 

He’s perfect. The newer, stronger Gold seems like molten lava in the morning light, but it’s still not fire. And it’s moving rapidly through his body like air, but it’s not. And there a power to it like water, and strength to it like earth, but it’s never enough of one and far too much of the others for you to pin it down.

You don’t really need to pin it down. 

It’s Dean.

You love him all the same.

He tries to hold onto you, when you twist to get out of bed. He makes a cute, disgruntled sound, and tugs you right back into his body before you know what’s happening.

It takes ten minutes for you to slowly swap yourself with one of the pillows. And you don’t want to leave—it might be a dream, to just stay where Dean is holding you for the rest of your life—but you need to think. And you can’t do that when a big, warm hand is spread over your stomach again, and Dean’s breath is hot on your neck.

Your thoughts had kicked back into gear, after Dean calmed you down yesterday. And you’d made some connections.

Connections you’re going to have to tell Sam and Dean about, because they mean you’re good. You can gank the Boto Monster and fuck off. Go home. You don’t even have a seal to deal with.

And you’re going to have to find a way to convince them of that without the truth.

Because under no fucking circumstances can you actually say the truth.

Dean had said the first vic was a virgin, and it had hit you in small, fragmented pieces you’d strung together in the hours after.

Sam had been wrong about the sex demon. This has to be a Pink Boto. You’d hunted one, while you were in Brazil, and this is their exact MO. Make a young, virgin woman cheat on her partner. Then kill them both, with symptoms similar to drowning. You’d remember how to spot one, too. They’d be in a human form of their choice, designed to lure the woman in, but they’d always wear a hat. Their true forms were pink dolphins—botos—and they could shift however they wanted, but they could never get rid of their, so they’d have to cover it. With a hat.

And that was great. Simple. 

It also wasn’t the problem.

The problem was that Lilith brought the boto here, to make the true love stray.

True. Not pure. 

The seal won’t care about any virgins. But the boto will. It will target them, smell it on them, fucking see it. The same way that they can sense when humans have emotional bonds, so they can sniff out couples.

At least, that was how it had been explained to you, in Brazil. 

It was how they’d assured you.

You were single. 

You wouldn’t be a target.

And this is where Sam was right. You and Dean were in danger. You were the target. Lilith brought the boto here because she needs the seal broken, and she knows about your love for Dean, and she probably fucking knows about you. The other deaths haven’t been about the seal. It’s just been the boto feeding. You and Dean have been the endgame from the start.

The good news, you decide as you sit alone on the beach, your toe right on the edge of the water as the sun climbs into the sky, is that Lilith is fucked. You’ve really never even thought about anyone but Dean. Not like that. You missed the window of experimentation in your teens, met Dean at eighteen, and then there was just no fucking point to anyone else. It was Dean. It’s always been Dean. All the way down.

It’s not saving yourself, because that makes you sound fucking pathetic, like a midwestern church girl who won’t show Her ankles because Jesus will get mad. You just don’t think about it, if it’s not Dean. And it’s not like anyone else has ever really looked at you.

That was your first kiss. 

You are never going to fucking tell Dean that.

And you’re staring down at the sand—at the water slowly climbing over your ankles—when you hear him clear his throat behind you. “Hey, sweetheart. I’ve been looking for you.”

“Sorry.” You mutter, not looking up from the sand. “I should’ve texted. I just needed to- you know.”

“Yeah. I do.” You hear the sand shift at your side. He’s sitting down. “Just got worried. I mean, woke up. You weren’t there. Damn near ripped up the room looking for you.”

That gets a small smile. “You think I was going to be under the couch, Deano?”

“No. I’m just saying I was worried. Don’t run off like that.”

There’s a long, heavy silence, and something is wrong. The air is wired and tense, and it’s never like that with Dean. And the Silver isn’t exploding, but it’s not soothed. 

“I’m sorry.” He mutters suddenly, and it really sounds like Dean, but you’re still staring at the sand. “I just got worried, you know? You shouldn’t be out here, the sun is barely even up.”

Dean would be worried. But he wouldn’t say it like… that. 

You suddenly really don’t want to look at him. He’s rubbing strong circles on your back but they’re only making your breathing labored. He’s right at your side, but you don’t feel any of Dean’s gravity.

But it sounds like Dean.

And you’re frozen. 

“Don’t be mad at me.” Dean’s voice hums, close to your ear, and you squeeze your eyes shut. You feel fucking sick. “You know I love you, baby. Let’s go back to bed.”

Baby.

Dean only calls his car Baby. 

But that was his voice. Calling you Baby. It’s echoing around in your head, and you can’t fucking breathe, and you have to open your eyes.

It looks like Dean, too. Pretty features and a boyish grin and green eyes, it’s skin a little more tanned, but only in a way that’s noticeable to someone who’s insane and in love with him.

You don’t need to rip its stupid baseball cap to know it’s not Dean.

It’s not Golden.

And you can still hear it, as you explode.

Baby. You know I love you, baby.

You’re scrambling back, as the Silver presses into the boto. And it not killing it. Not simply sucking up its life and throwing its soul into wherever monsters go after they die.

You’re eliminating it. The same way you’ve eliminated Hell’s Assassin’s.

But you’ve never done it to something with a functioning soul again. A soul you can see. Sense.

Hear.

Those aren’t the screams of the boto, when it’s turned into pure fucking nothing. 

It’s the soul. Begging you for mercy.

Baby.

There’s a last, weak sound, and then the boto is gone.

You fall flat on your back, and stare at the Sky.

It stares back. 

You can’t fucking breathe. The tide is starting to rise, but you can’t fucking move, and you can’t tell what salt is your own tears and what’s the ocean.

And the Sky is just fucking watching.

Dean roars your name, somewhere down the beach. And that’s how your Dean roars your name, and the Spiderweb is glowing, and he’s Golden when he appears over you like some sort of knight, sent to save you from the monster in the water.

You’re the monster in the water. If Dean’s a hero—and he is—he should let you fucking drown.

But he doesn’t. He’s perfect, so he scoops you into his arms with only a grunt and carries you away from the beach. 

When you look over his shoulder, there’s not even a fucking body. It’s like the boto never even existed at all.

“You’re okay.” Dean’s muttering in your ear as he sets you down somewhere with flowers and a small marble waterfall. “Son of a bitch, Princess, you can’t just fucking disappear. I- You weren’t there and I fucking thought- Godamnit-“

Dean grabs your face between his hands, starting to wipe the linger saltwater from your cheeks. You’re blinking at him. In a firm pattern on once, over and over, trying to tell him everything is wrong. But he’s too focused on checking you for injury to see. And that’s how your Dean would be worried. 

Touching you so carefully while shouting at you with a distress you can hear.

You sob before you can stop yourself, and Dean’s eyes widen.

“Fuck, wait-“ He pulls you right back against his body, walking backwards until his back is pressed to a white-brick wall, and you’re still held in his arms.

He wants to be able to see anything coming. He’s trying to keep you safe.

Your tears start to flow.

“No- shit- Don’t cry, Princess, you’re okay, it’s okay, you’re- Fuck-“

Dean’s thumb starts to run down the bridge of your nose, over and over until you’re almost slumped against him. 

It’s peaceful here. Against Dean. Warm and safe. Home. 

And exhaustion is already starting to pull you down, but you can still hear it.

Baby.

“Talk,” Dean mutters your name, brushing away the hair that’s been stuck to your brow. “Shit, I- I need you to talk, I can’t fucking do anything if you don’t tell me what happened, why the hell were you drowning yourself-“

“I’m sorry.” You whisper, and Dean stares at you.

He thinks you’re sorry because of the vanishing act and state he’d found you in.

He’s wrong.

You need to know. Just in case this is a more sophisticated trick, or a dream, or the last chance you ever get. Just in case the angels swoop down and try to take you, or the earth opens up and Dean’s dragged back to Hell, you need to know. It’s selfish and unforgivable, but you need it. You need Dean. 

Baby. I love you, baby.

“You’re-“

Dean words are cut off as your hands fist in his shirt, and you yank him down into a kiss. 

He responds immediately. Dean deepens the kiss in half a second, pulling you somehow closer. Like there wasn’t ever a question of if he would.

And you know.

But you don’t hate yourself enough to pull away.

This isn’t like the first kiss. You’d both been moving through that like you were afraid it would be ripped away at any moment. 

Now you’re both moving like you know it’s going to be ripped away, and you refuse to waste one fucking second.

It’s violent. Heavy and hot and wet, open-mouthed with Dean’s tongue down your throat and his lip between your teeth. Your nails scratch at his back and shoulders as he flips you around, pinning you between his body and the wall. And he’s still touching you so carefully—like he’s afraid you’ll break—but there’s no hesitation when one hand grips your waist hard enough to bruise, before trailing down and under your shirt-

A million fucking sparks set off when Dean’s knuckles touch the bare skin of your hips. Your back arches as he groans and massages your waist, and you’ve stared to grind up into him without thought, because he’s Golden and made of gravity and you want him to devour you. To touch you wherever he wants until you’re painted in Gold, to kiss you until you’re just putty like this, forever. Tended to and touched and without any fucking pain, there’s no fucking pain because Dean’s too good to have pain. 

There can’t be pain when you’re safe against his body. Nothing can exist but Dean kneading at your skin under your shirt, and moaning your name against your lips when you press against something big and hard, poking right at your hip-

Dean pulls away with a grunt, both of you gasping for breath, and your brow drops to his shoulder.

He just smells like spice, now. And you can taste it, too. 

You love him. 

You’re not allowed to say it.

So instead you wrap your arms around his shoulders, clinging to him like there won’t be any consequences. Any prices to be paid.

There will be.

You’ll live with them.

“Dean?” You whisper in his ear, and his hum of response rolls through your whole body. “I- I took care of it. Can we please go home?”

You’re ready for him to push back. To ask what took care of it means, and tell you that you need to be sure, and consult Sam, and you can sit the rest of it out, but you can’t leave just yet.

Instead Dean just sighs, running his fingers through your hair, and nods.

“We can do whatever you want, Princess.”

You want him. You’ve only ever wanted Dean.

But it doesn’t matter what you want. 

You’ll have whatever the fuck Dean offers you. 

And if it’s love, you’ll rip the Sky in half to keep it.

End Note: Okay so I made her a virgin because let’s be so fr, she’s impressively oblivious about that stuff, AND she was not about to get laid when big emotions made things blow up. We’re lucky Dean didn’t kiss her when she was still suppressing her powers. Girlie would’ve blown up the moon about it.

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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18+

Content Warning: Smut, PinV, Virgin!Daryl, Insecure!Daryl, Female!Reader, Unprotected sex (wrap it people), Reader gets bent over Daryl’s bike 😋, brief use of pet names including little dove, Angel, pretty girl.

Authors note: Guys please, I can’t stop thinking about this photo and scene. This got so out of hand. Genuinely this wasn’t supposed to start as Virgin!Daryl but this story wrote itself istg. I think I blacked out. But virgin Daryl is so special to me. I need to teach this man everything and then some.

Please HMO for a minute.

We all know Older!Daryl wouldn’t risk y’all having sex in the woods or really anywhere outside the house or walls of the community, it’s too dangerous with all the walkers and god forbid some psychos stumble across you. But Younger!Daryl is definitely less responsible. I’m talking Quarry or even Farm era, before the group runs into bad people and realises how fucked up people can get after the world ends. Plus we all know Norman played Daryl like he was a virgin, y’all need to remember that cause I’ve NEVER stopped thinking about it.

Daryl’s never been in a relationship before, and he has no idea why reader even bothers talking to him, let alone dates him. But after a solid month of flirting he finally believed you enough to date you. It’s not that he was hesitant, just skeptical. :(

Everything he knows about sex is from what Merle has told him and porno’s, but he refuses to believe any woman that’s been with Merle has actually enjoyed their time, so he doesn’t take his brothers ‘tips’ into consideration at all. Specifically when he said “Women love it when ya throw yerself at ‘em”, because he’s watched Merle get kicked out by security and pepper sprayed one to many times to believe that for even a second.

So when you came along, he never made the first move, always letting you come to him, maybe the occasional hand on you lower back or brush of your fingers but that’s about it. It was sweet at first, and it’s only been 2 or 3 weeks since you started dating, but you’re starting to crave his touch. It doesn’t help that when you try to initiate sex he blows you off with a muttered “ya gotta go’n a run tomorrow” or any other reason you should go to sleep instead.

Last night you finally spoke to him about it, refusing to let him leave the tent until he answers you. The last thing you want to do is make him uncomfortable, and if he simply doesn’t want to have sex with you, you’ll stop initiating until he’s ready. When you told him that, he looked at you in sheer shock, not surprised shock, but a “that’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard” shock.

“S’not that I don’t wanna, trust me, jus’ don’t want ya to think ya have to”

You talked for a bit longer, eventually he begrudgingly told you he’d never had sex before, which took you by surprise because how could a man like him not have been around the block. After that he quickly shut the conversation down, he was obviously embarrassed despite trying to hide the fact, so you let him and quickly fell asleep. But you got what you needed from it already.

The next morning you’re both going on a run, you’re sitting behind him with your arms around his torso, typical backpack stuff. The town you’re going to is a bit farther away than the group would usually go, about a 20 minute drive with no traffic and a throttle heavy redneck driving. Your head is resting against the back of his shoulder lost in thought about last nights conversation, then fading to something a little less pg. thoughts of hands travelling, clothes being shed, and lingering kisses.

Your thumb starts rubbing absent minded circles on Daryl’s stomach, a kiss pressed to his trapezius, then another above that, and another, the last just under his ear. His head turns to the side to try and look back at you briefly before focusing back on the road. You felt his body tense with each kiss, then again when you hands start moving from his stomach to his sides, slowly but firmly. You trail your hands down his thighs, then back to his torso, repeating until his body relaxes again. Your hands move from his front to his back, trailing up his spine and over his shoulders, massaging at the knots caused by his crossbow. It’s only when your hands travel south that he’s tensing up again, electricity shooting through him as your hand travel closer and closer to the ever growing tent in his jeans.

Your hands stop just inches from where he needs you most, lips hovering over his ear asking for permission. You can feel the shaky sigh leave him by the way his back moves under your chest, a nod of his head sends your hands moving immediately. Your fingers ghost over his lap, testing the waters, then wrap around his jeans softly, giving a small squeeze. The bike slowly drifts into the other lane though quickly corrected and it doesn’t take long for the bike to slow down and eventually come to a stop in the middle of the desolate road. Daryl practically falls off the bike once it’s parked, you go to get off too but don’t get past putting both your legs over to one side before Daryl’s hand are on your hips and his lips are on yours. You can’t help the gasp the escapes you, shocked by the boldness of the usually diffident man (when it comes to intimacy).

He steps between your knees until his chest is flush with yours, one of his arms snakes around your back to make sure you don’t fall while the other cups one side of your face. He usually lets you take control of the kiss but he wastes no time deepening it himself, the newfound dominance over this aspect of your relationship has your legs weak. You’ve never been more thankful to be sitting down in your life. Your legs wrap around his waist to pull him flush to you, his hand resting just above your ass tightens as he rolls his hips against you, swallowing the surprised moan that leaves immediately after. You break the kiss long enough to say,

“Who are you and what have you done with my Daryl?”

You tease, a smile playing on your lips before pushing him back and stepping off the bike, turning him around and starting to sink to your knees, but he grabs your arm,

“ ‘Nother time, need ya now”

5 simple words have you nearly buckling at the knees, he pulls you to stand back up and kisses over your neck, rushed and needy as his hands shakily explore your back and sides. Your hands wrap around his shirt and go to pull it over his head but he stops you, pulling away from your neck and looking in your eyes with a look you’ve never seen before, one you didn’t even think he was capable of until now. He doesn’t have to say anything before your letting his shirt go and kissing his cheek, bringing his hands to the hem of your own shirt. You don’t press the subject matter and he’s thankful for that, pulling your shirt over your head and laying it carefully over the bike handles so it doesn’t fall to the dirty road beneath you, the small gesture has your heart fluttering, but you don’t have much time to think it over before his hands are trailing down your bare torso and down to your ass, groping them while eyeing your tits before he speaks,

“Dunno what m’doin”

He admits nervously, it makes you smile how sweet he can be even with his hard on pressing into your stomach. You can feel his hands shaking slightly against your skin.

“Can’t do much with our pants on”

I joke, hoping it’ll make him less nervous and it does, a small chuckle leaving his lips and a playful slap to your ass before his hands are trailing to your front.

“Smartass”

He rasps, lips hovering over your shoulder as he works on your pants, watching you pull them and your panties down over the plush of your ass.

“Y’gotta use your hands first or else it’s gonna hurt”

“M’not that stupid”

He says, making you laugh softly, but it’s short lived when he pushes you to lean against his bike, his hand cupping between your legs. You can’t help the gasp that leaves you at the suddenness of the touch, though you’re not complaining, and you certainly can’t blame the 40 year old virgin for being a bit excited.

Two of his fingers slip between your folds, gathering your slick before flicking his fingers over your clit haphazardly. You wrap a gentle hand around his wrist and guide him slightly further up until he’s in the right place, he watches your head lul back slightly and the quiet moan that leaves your lips. He’s torn between watching your face, his hands, or biting at your neck, his eyes never staying in one place for long, flicking over every inch of your skin.

“S’all fer me, huh?”

He growls, voice low and laced with lust, the sound frequency of his voice rumbling through your body and straight to your core. His fingers dip to your entrance, watching your face as he pushes in a finger slowly, looking for any signs of discomfort. Daryl may be a virgin but he’s not stupid, he knows it can hurt if not dealt with properly, but the speed at which he’s going is torturously slow, you buck your hips with a soft whine in hopes he gets the idea and he does, he pistons his finger starting slow but speeding up slightly, though still slow.

“Feels good baby, keep it slow like this but curl ‘em up gently”

He listens intently, curling his finger up tentatively, testing the waters. When your head falls to his shoulder with a breathy groan he can’t fight the smirk that makes its way across his cheeks, watching your face as he continues to move his fingers, finding what you like and repeating, adding a second finger when you get quieter, then a third until he has to stand between your knees to keep them open.

You pull him into a searing kiss, moaning into his mouth while yours hands work on his belt buckle and palm him over his jeans. He sucks in a breath through his teeth at the touch, a groan leaving his lips involuntarily. He pulls his fingers from your core and locks eyes with you while he licks them clean (gif, lord help me). You have to physically restrain from rolling your eyes, the view shooting straight to your centre. His eyes never leave yours, even while he’s unzipping his pants and pulling himself out, landing heavy in his hand and using your left over arousal on his fingers as lube to stroke himself once, twice, before stepping towards you again.

“Y’ok little dove?”

His constant check for consent makes your stomach sick with butterflies. You nod fervently, muttering a “please” and “need it, need you”. It’s all he needs to wrap an arm around your back and push in slowly, he groans deeply as you surround him, warm and wet. It takes everything in him to not cum right then and there.

“So fuckin’ tight, squeezin’ me like a goddamn vice”

Your arms instinctively wrap around his neck, gasping at the stretch and kissing over his neck haphazardly. He stills for a moment until he feels you relax, giving a shallow thrust and watching for your reaction, when he sees no discomfort he pulls back to his tip, pushing in with a sharp thrust. Your head throws back and his lips immediately catch to the skin, but it’s short lived when a squeal leaves your lips and Daryl’s having to hold your body weight up from slipping off the other side of the bike. He situates you on the bike before letting his words run a million miles per second.

“Y’ok? Ya hurt? M’sorry didn’t mean ta’ was jus-“

You cut him off with a short laugh and a kiss, standing from the bike.

“I’m fine Dare”

You say through giggles at his overly worried tone. Your nails rake over his clothed chest softly before you turn around and rest your elbows on the bike seat, looking over your shoulder to look at him. He instantly gets the message and stands behind you, placing a kiss in the middle of your shoulders before sliding back in, a groan rumbling against your skin. He lets you ease up again before he’s repeating his earlier pace but a bit slower, you can already feel him twitch inside you and know he probably won’t last to long. Not that you mind, you expected it. You guide his hand between your legs and his fingers immediately start working your clit. You were already close from him prepping you, and the noises muffled against the skin of your shoulder could get you to the edge alone.

“I ain’t gonna last”

Daryl admits breathily, his hips already losing rhythm and his fingers sloppy. He angles his hips in a way that has your eyes rolling, a desperate moan of his name while your nails dig into the leather of his bike. Your walls tightening has him pulling out with a grunt, his hand leaving your clit and stroking himself for not even a second before he lets out a guttural moan and you feel the warm spurts of his cum paint your ass. He leans forwards over your back to kiss your shoulder, heavy breaths fogging your brain.

“You’re a fuckin Angel”

He breaths into your ear, hand returning to your bundle of nerves

“Need ya to come for me, pretty girl”

His voice is low and raspy, though laced with satisfaction. His fingers are working fast and messy so you place your hand over his and with your own fingers over his, silently show him to move them in small circles. The change has you gasping his name and grabbing at the bike again, his other hand pushes 2 fingers inside you and his lips leave kisses over your back.

“Doin so good fer me, just like that baby”

And that’s all you need to be pushed over the edge, legs shaking and you lean your full weight onto the bike. Daryl hums in approval against your back.

“Just like that, there’s my girl.”

His fingers slip from your core and trail soothingly over your sides and back, his other hand slowing down significantly as he helps you ride out your orgasm, only letting up when your moans raise in pitch and legs try to close around his hand.

When you finally stand from the bike and spin to face him, he places a doting kiss to your lips. A smile creeping up both of your faces.

[hoodoo12]

Sweltering

First and foremost, fuck this heat. I've always preferred colder to warmer, and nowadays the summer is just a hellscape. Therefore, a story.

It's too hot outside, and The Ghost with the Most thinks he has a way to cool you down. NSFW.

It was stupid hot. Inside with no air conditioning was worse, so you were out on the patio in your backyard in nothing more than the thinnest tank top you owned and underwear. You’d brought a fan that was specifically labeled “for indoor use only!” out, plugged in by multiple extension cords that also said to only use them indoors, and had it going full blast right at your body.

You were sweating through what little clothing you had on. Your brain felt melted. The ice cream sandwich you thought would help cool you down did nothing.

Without warning or fanfare, Beetlejuice appeared at your side.

You hadn’t called him. You just never re-said his name after the last time you’d summoned him, and now this was the arrangement. He just came and went how he pleased, like a tom cat. You hoped he didn’t fuck around like an unneutered cat, but you were also realistic. There was never any label to the thing you had with him, although there was something to be said in that he kept returning.

“Jesus! You’re wearing that suit? It’s over 95 degrees out here!” you complained at him. Then you took a lick around the edge of the ice cream, because it was melting faster than your brain.

The ghost looked down over himself.

“Well fuckin' good day to you too,” he grumbled. “And what’s wrong with my suit?”

“I already said it was so damn hot! How can you wear that in this heat?!”

He rolled his eyes. “Because I’m a dead guy, sweetcheeks. I don’t feel the heat. I don’t feel the cold. It’s all the same to me.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, in both disbelief and a titch of jealousy. “Must be nice.”

He shrugged. “I suppose. If you mean not feeling much of anything.”

Now it was your turn to roll your eyes. “You don’t feel much of anything? Then why’re you sporting a boner behind your fly?”

Instead of being embarrassed, a reaction that would have surprised you, he rubbed his palm over his crotch as he leered down at you. “My dick’s hard because you’re laying in front of me basically nude, baby, with sticky white stuff dripping all over your hand.”

Your ice cream! In the seconds you’d forgotten about it, it melted just as he said, leaving trails down your hand and wrist. With an inarticulate cry of surprised dismay, you immediately started to lick the mess off your hand, mostly managing to smear wet sugar over your skin instead of actually removing it.

“You know, I’ve got something just as chilly that’d fit in your mouth.”

Your tongue still in your palm, you flicked a glance at him. You’d expect nothing less from the ghost watching what you were doing with keen, hungry interest. Beetlejuice hadn’t stopped rubbing himself through his trousers and you saw him give himself a squeeze that was none to gentle.

“Oh?” you replied innocently. “You think something like that’d cool me down?”

“Fuckin’ heat you up, more like,” he growled. “I know how much you like suckin’ my cock.”

This hadn’t been on your agenda today, but his unexpected arrival did make you think dirty thoughts. Shoving the remaining bite of the ice cream sandwich into your mouth, you gave up trying to clean off your hand and spun in the lounge chair so he was between your legs. Looking up at him, you grinned even as you reached for the button and zipper on his trousers.

As your fingers undid the fastenings, you said, “This is all for me then, huh? Sucking you off is all for me, because you don’t feel much of anything?”

You dug into the front of his pants--he never wore underwear, so you didn’t have to contend with that barrier--and eased his cock out. Grub-pale and heavy in your hand, it did have a distinct chill that wasn’t unpleasant in this blasted heat.

Beetlejuice looked down at you with half-lidded eyes, drawing a thumb over his lower lip. “I think you know the answer to that, babydoll. Now you just gonna sit there? That sandworm isn’t gonna suck itself.”

Even as you rolled your eyes again that he called his dick a sandworm, you obediently opened your mouth and he rocked his hips. Because you were holding him by the base of his cock, it was the perfect position to slip between your lips and onto your tongue. You loosened your jaw; you knew he tended to pop himself forward once in your mouth and--

Beetlejuice thrust, his cock filling your mouth almost to your throat.

--yep, there it was.

The second he was encased in your mouth, you sucked him hard.

He groaned. A hand went to the back of your head and fingers entangled into your hair. You gave him a few sucking strokes, and on one of the outward pulls, he yanked back a little so your face tilted backward.

“Look up at me,” he ordered.

You barely contained another eye roll. Instead, you concentrated on doing as he asked, keeping your eyes trained upward as best you could bobbing on his cock. Along with the movement, you alternated swirling your tongue around him and applying heavy solid suction. He’d been correct; his cock was chilly in your mouth, although not quite as cold as the ice cream had been and nowhere near as tasty.

The ghost continued to groan and now gasp at each sensation you wrung from him. He tipped his head back, and you saw his throat work as he swallowed.

Without warning, you pulled off him. He gasped again, for a different reason, and dropped his gaze back to you. His mouth was open and he looked a little stuporous, as well as surprised.

“Look at me,” you ordered him.

He swallowed again and nodded quickly. You quirked an eyebrow at him as if to silently say he better not forget to keep his eyes trained downward. Then, keeping your eyes locked on his, you went back to work with even more vigor.

There was a little more intimacy, with direct eye contact. As much intimacy as sitting outside in basically nothing, sucking a basically fully clothed ghost’s cock could be. You laughed as best you could with that cock down your throat at what you must look like and what the neighbors would think if they happened to see you. Beetlejuice continued to moan and tightened his hand in your hair, as if he thought you were laughing at him. His hips rocked forward to shove himself in a little deeper.

The head of his cock choked off your air supply and cut your chuckle short. Now it was his turn to cock an eyebrow at you, daring you to say something or stop. Without taking your mouth off him you narrowed your eyes and worked him even harder.

You sucked, your swirled, you didn’t swallow any of the thick spit blowing him built up in your mouth. It ran out of your mouth and soaked your chin and neck; when you deep throated him it drenched his rat’s nest of pubic hair and trousers. Pulling back after keeping him fully inside you raised your eyes again. He locked eyes with yours even as drool beaded on his own lower lip. It became too heavy to remain there, and a thin droplet of it fell.

He licked his lip then. “Your fuckin’ mouth baby,” he muttered.

“Uh-huh,” you were able to reply, since that was easier than actual words. He seemed to want to choke out some words, however, so you slowed.

“Told you it was better, didn’t I?” he reminded you. “Nice isn’t it, something that’s cold in that hot mouth of yours that doesn’t melt right away? Fuck, baby, you gonna edge me so you can keep going? You gonna want to keep my cock in your mouth as long as possible--”

That was exactly what you didn’t want. Already his babbling grated on your nerves, like he was the one in charge here. You took him as deep as possible again, with your nose pressed into the wet hair over his pubic bone. Beetlejuice interrupted himself with an open-mouthed groan. You’d have smiled at the power you had over him, but that would break the suction.

Keeping his cock exactly where it was, you used your tongue to press it up against your hard palate for some variety in sensation and paused a second to breathe through your nose. You couldn’t tilt your head up enough to look him in the face again, but from the now involuntary jerks his body gave and the rhythmic tightening of his fingers in your hair, you didn’t need to see his expression to know that he was damn close to blowing his load down your throat.

As if on cue, he rasped, “I’m gonna come, I’m gonna come--”

You left off the heavy suction for a second.

“Down your throat or on your skin, baby?”

His come would have a distinctly different taste in the back of your throat than the ice cream you’d eaten, so you answered him by releasing him and pulling back a bit. You caught his eyes again, dark even in the sunlight, and grinned up at him. His hand left your hair and went to his own cock.

Beetlejuice gave a slightly different groan at seeing you displayed in front of him. His hand stroked his length easily due to the amount of spit you’d laved him with. You gathered some of the spit that had dripped to your chest and smeared it, making yourself shiny. With the breeze from the fan, your nipples peaked. The grin didn’t leave your face.

The ghost jerked himself off, and broke the rule about keeping eye contact with you. His eyes were riveted to your chest. That was okay; you couldn’t help watching his cock disappear and reappear in his own hand, his pace increasing the closer he got to finishing. When he leaned over and used your shoulder for balance, you knew his end was inevitable.

He squeezed the head of his cock between his thumb and forefinger, then gave another frantic jerk and cried out as he came. Thick, off-white come spurted onto your upper chest, and it was just as chilly as his cock had been. You gasped as it painted you, and you couldn’t help taking one hand to smear it thinly over your skin. It was only slightly less tacky than the ice cream that had melted earlier. His nails dug into your shoulder, and you shrugged it to remind him that you were still a breather and didn’t really appreciate the pain.

Once his cock stopped pulsing and the last of his ejaculate dribbled out, he blew his breath out like he’d run a marathon.

The spunk you’d smeared was even cooler when the air from the fan hit it. You knew the sensation wouldn’t last long, but it was nice for the moment.

“You’re pretty hot, baby,” Beetlejuice complimented.

You gave him a look. “Yeah. I know. That’s the whole problem.”

He smirked and took your upper arm, hauling you to your feet.

“Why don’t I try to cool you down--now gimme a chance to explain, baby!” he said over your attempt to interrupt him. “My entire body is just as chilly as my dick, sweetheart, so me laying on top of you or you laying on top of me is gonna help. And when I say my entire body, I mean my tongue too, so just imagine what that’ll feel like tickling up between your legs. Cool you down from the inside out.”

When he put it that way . . .

Beetlejuice grinned as your expression softened into compliance.

“Come on baby,” he continued. “Let’s get inside where I can really concentrate. Unless you wanna continue to give the neighbors a free show?”

“What?!” you squawked, scrambling for your bra to cover yourself.

He laughed and didn’t let you grab it, pulling you along with him into the house and up to your bedroom. As far as a sweltering day went, at least a corpse-cold lover helped make it better.

fin!

[affableramen]

no nut november. when they try to unnoticeably watch you undress

ᡣ𐭩 mature themes, spicy but not smutty, pre-relationship

ᡣ𐭩 neuvillette, pantalone x fem!reader

Neuvillette

“Here, I wholeheartedly hope you’ll find them to your liking. I’m deeply sorry the rain soaked you, you must have least expected that.”

“It’s alright, though I’m soaked to the bone, I have monsieur Neuvillette taking care of me”, you smile widely at him as he hands you the bag full of clothes. The sovereign dragon had no problem flying to the nearest mall and buying you new clothes in order to replace your soaking ones. You can’t fly, but he doesn’t want you to catch cold right in front of his eyes.

You opened the bag and took a look at the clothes. They were really fancy ones, and Neuvillette’s sharp intuition guided him into the right size.

“Wow, monsieur Neuvillette they are all my size. They should all fit.”

“I’m extremely glad in that case”, he clears his throat. “I will leave you to change. I’ll wait in the vestibule.

“Of course.”

He reached the exit and closed the door behind him but a really thin hole could give a quick peek to someone who was in the room. Neuvillette was above taking that chance and did not plan on witnessing you get rid of your soaked layers of clothes—he’s already probably seen too much, given how your white tight shirt would stick to your cleavage.

He sighed. Perhaps you already started undressing. These nasty thoughts wouldn’t come off from his head and would not leave him alone. Neuvillette entirely missed the moment when he started thinking dirty of you. All this sexual stuff was so new and unlike him. But knowing that you were soaked and changing in his office made him experience the most obscene thoughts lingering on the bottom of his mind.

“Please tell me once you’re finished”, he cleared his throat. “Unfortunately we’re so busy today I cannot give you more time than I would prefer.”

“I understand”, your voice sounds louder, you must be heading right to the door. “I finished, monsieur, and I thank you so much for getting me those.”

Once you open the door you’re met with an incredibly perplexed and almost embarrassed stare.

“Do leave me a receipt, I shall cover them all.”

“Nonsense. It was a gift.”

“I’m afraid I cannot accept gifts from my employer.”

“Please do, after all I’m partially the reason you’re caught up in the rain; had I not asked you on your day off you would not have gotten targeted by unappealing weather conditions.”

“You’re too kind to me, monsieur.”

You go back to your cubicle not realising how deeply Neuvillette experienced desire to see more of you—a single more inch of your delicate skin.

Pantalone

“Here, this should be your size. You agree how this one is less tight and more comfy than your original outfit, don’t you?” Pantalone gives you a sweet smile, his eyes shut when he does so, and his long black eyelashes stand out proudly on his face.

“This should do. If I knew we had a training today, I wouldn’t wear my formal dress at the first place.”

You take the neatly wrapped training sport suit from his indigo-gloved hands and give it a quick quality check.

“This one is really well made. I truly like it.”

“Did you doubt our private tailors?”

“Not one bit, Regrator”, you turn away from him, facing the window, your skin glowing lit and bright in the face of Pantalone’s dark figure.

“Your formal tight-fit dress deserves a reward, sweetie, but you might have difficulties fighting in it.”

“I have no problem wearing the outfit you provided me with”, you say as you start quickly changing. Regrator’s interest is picked when he hears the ruffling of clothes. His ears perk up to each sound coming from you, but he stays turned away, with his back facing you.

“I’m glad if so.”

Just when what seems to be heavy fabric sound dropping onto the floor grabbing Pantalone’s attention, he swallows a heavy feeling in his throat. He knows what part of you is presumably naked right now and fight the urge to not peek. He is a gentleman, not a dog in heat.

But when you unclasp your bra to put the sport top on, Pantalone’s head slowly turns to your side. He takes a very subtle, quick look of the curve of your shoulder and arm. Your back muscles fascinate him. Afraid that you might notice him—what are you going to think?—he immediately looks away and forces a fake polite smile as usual.

“Well, how long am I going to wait? Tick-tock, my dear.”

“Have you never undressed a woman before? Surely you know it’s difficult to be quick.”

“Oh…”

The later process is surrounded by utter silence. Upon you finishing, Pantalone who has been dying every second while you were changing, says at last:

“Not bad.”

“Think so too.” You aim to the exit, but he grabs your shoulder. You’re suddenly stopped, but he immediately softens his touch and loosens his grip, his hand rubbing your shoulder as if giving you a massage. The gesture feels somehow encouraging and intimate at the same moment.

“Be careful, alright? I fancy seeing your body back in one piece.”

[aijunbi]

XOXO, UR ANNOYING SPIDEY — M.S.

'' every time i'm walkin' out , i can hear you tellin' me to turn around .ᐣ.ᐟ ''

── • when the friendly neighborhood spider-girl find ways to annoy you, with love of course!

── • fluff , taking care of wounds , kissing (poorly written imo) , one argument (hurt/comfort)

── • thought i'd switch up my style for a min and see how it looks. divider cr: @cafekitsune

── ♪ now playing : sunflower – post malone, swae lee

🕸️ .WEBSTRING. ゜– prologue

"LOOK AT HER! ISN'T SHE SO PRETTY?" hanni points to one of the cheerleaders, totally enamoured by her beauty. frankly, you couldn't care less because you were too busy thinking about a certain ginger cheerleader who was currently missing from the sidelines. hanni notices your distracted behavior and smiles smugly at you. "you miss megan don't you?" she wiggles her eyebrow in amusement like what she said was the funniest thing ever.

you snap your head towards her with a sharp glare, your eyes narrowed and threatening– with no actual malicious intent. "shut up, no i don't. you're getting the wrong idea," you argued. your chin was on the palm of your hand, your elbow resting on your knee. hanni only rolls her eyes and goes back to watching the game.

"what are you thinking of then?" she questions. you merely shrug.

"the cheerleaders are about to perform but she's not here."

"mm, sad you can't see her dance around?" now it was your turn to roll your eyes, your free hand coming up to push her head away. "it's not like that," you say. "i'm gonna go to the bathroom." you got up from the bleachers and left hanni alone to mumble insults by herself. upon entering the restroom, you saw megan trying to get out of a– spider-girl suit? why in the world would she have that?

"shit, shit, i'm gonna be so late," she rambles, unaware of your presence. when she turned around to be met with your face, her eyes widened in shock and her lips parted. "you're not... you're not supposed to see this.."

"you're spider-girl?" you point an accusing finger at her as if she wasn't wearing the suit right in front of your eyes. "i can explain!" megan exclaims. "what's there to explain, you're literally wearing–"

"ok, later! i'm gonna be late to the cheer performance. can you just... help me out of this?" she pleads, holding both of her hands up as she tried to reason with you. "i don't get out of this suit well under pressure."

"...yeah, i-i guess." you walk over to her and began to help her get out of the suit. once she was out, she looks more like a high schooler in her cheer uniform than some superhero saving the city. "i'll pay you back somehow, uh..."

"yn."

"yn! i'll pay the favor back soon," she promised. "you save the city already, there's no need–" you were interrupted by megan.

"no! no, i should! i can, uhm, swing you around the city if you want." the offer was tempting, but with your fear of heights, you weren't exactly sure. "think about it! thank you, again." she stuffs the suit back into her backpack and dashed towards the door. before fully leaving, she pauses and looks back with a smile on her face. "see you around, pretty?"

you almost choked on air when she called you that. it was totally out of the blue! "okay..." you nod. when she finally left, you let out a shaky breath, your hand clamping over your mouth. you can see the pinkish tint of your cheeks through the mirror, and you can feel the warmth and your heart beating through your chest. megan was so smooth for someone with no conscience of their actions, and it somehow made you a blushing mess. "how annoying."

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

🩹 .ADHESIVE. ゜

THREE KNOCKS ON YOUR WINDOW distracted you from your textbooks. it was weird, and fairly creepy, that something was knocking on your window considering how late it was. you grab one of your heavy dictionaries and got up from your seat, holding the book near yourself as you lifted your blinds. it was a dumb move but the person outside was even dumber. "what're you doing here, spidey?" you asked after you opened the window, seeing megan standing there, clutching her side.

"oh? nickname basis already?" megan chuckles, but it sounded weak. she was a coughing fit not even a few seconds later. even breathing made her chest hurt. "you said you're in a medical program right?" you nod, unsure of what megan wanted from you. "can you help me?"

"do you always need help?"

"i'm serious! look!" she shows you the deep cut underneath her hand, blood dripping down her fingers as she held her side. your eyes widened in concern and you immediately pull her in, opening the window wider for her to enter. "what the fuck did you do?" you exclaimed while your eyes took in all of the scrapes and bruises. megan only shrugs, and you fight back every urge to hit her.

"i saved the day?"

"yeah, no shit sherlock. it was rhetorical." not wanting blood to stain your bed, you sat her down on your chair at your desk. fortunately, you kept a first aid box in your drawer. "don't make too much noise. my parents are asleep and they don't need to know spider-girl is in my room."

"you got it, ma'am." her hand came up to do a salute but it was hurting too much to keep it there. "ow.."

"i need this suit off," you said, but the smug grin and teasing look on megan's face makes you want to punch her. "stop with that look. i'm being deadass right now. i can't treat your wounds correctly."

"okay, okay, sorry..." it took about five minutes to get her out of the suit, four minutes longer compared to the first time, mostly due to how she was whining in pain. by the time the suit was off, she was left in a t-shirt and shorts. "jesus, you look like adam sandler," you pointed out.

"was that necessary?" megan frowned.

"no, but it had to be said." you opened the first aid box and grabbed a nearby cloth, making sure it's clean before putting it on her cut and applying slight pressure onto the wound. megan winces in pain, throwing her head back on the chair.

"i'm being as gentle as i can, you crybaby. stay still!" you scolded. when the bleeding was reduced to a minimum, you removed the bloody cloth from her cut, grimacing upon seeing the fabric soaked in red fluid. "oh my god.." you toss the cloth somewhere else, deciding it'll be a future you problem. right now, you're focused on wrapping bandages around her.

you lift her shirt, ordering her to hold it up for you, before grabbing the roll of bandages in the med kit. you unroll it and placed it over her wound, wrapping around her stomach a few times. once done, you got up and went over to your closet, getting one of your oversized shirts for megan– since she was taller than you by a whole lot. you toss her the shirt and turned around to let her change.

"you don't have to turn around, y'know?" she said while putting on the shirt.

"i feel obligated to," you shrugged. "that's stupid," she laughed. "ok, you can turn around now." you turned around to face her but all the air gets knocked out of your lungs. who knew she would look nice in your clothes, let alone look better in it than you do. "what? do i look pretty?" megan taunted.

"yeah– no. what?" you stuttered, blinking a couple times to get your act together. she only chuckles and shake her head, leaning back into the chair. you noticed how her face was pretty messed up and felt the need to take care of that too. "how well do you do with rubbing alcohol?" you ask vaguely. she seemed to have gotten the memo based on how terrified she looked.

"no! no. no. we're not doing that." she tried to protest but you were already soaking a cotton ball with the liquid. "yn..." she begged, clasping her hand together. "you don't have to be so cruel!"

"except for the fact i'm not cruel? you're just whiny." you dab at a cut on her cheek, and a hiss comes through her lips, her fingers gripping onto the arms of the chair to keep herself from whacking your arm away. "spidey, i swear to god if you don't sit still..." your patience was thinning at her squirming, but a part of you couldn't help but feel bad. "come on, i promise it'll be over in a jiffy."

megan was hesitant but eventually nods, giving into your sweet coaxing. over the course of about three minutes, megan felt like she was traveling to and back from hell. the burns of the alcohol was seeping into the cuts around her face, a deep frown implanting itself onto her forehead. "is it done? are we done? am i done?"

"almost." you throw the cotton ball into the trash, taking a mental note to throw away the trash and cloth in the morning. "just a few more small bandaids and you can rest." megan whines as you began to placed tiny bandaids on her wounds, wanting the night to be over with. "there. now, we're officially done."

megan internally cheers but remembered she has to go back home. maybe she could've treated her own wounds at her place instead of being fifteen minutes away from the comfort of her bed. "can i sleep over?" your head snaps towards her, a bewildered look in your eyes. you've never agreed to any of this and only did it out of the kindess of your own heart. so why couldn't you deny her request?

"...yeah. sure. you've had enough on your plate for one night." you went over to your bed, fixing up a couple things to make space for her. you placed a pillow and a blanket on the floor next to your bed. "i'll sleep on the floor."

"what? why? it's your bed," megan argued, getting up from the chair, putting the pillow and blanket back on the bed. "it'll be fine, right?" you couldn't come up with an excuse as to why sleeping in the same bed would be a bad idea, so you gave in. "guess not..." you mumble. you climbed in first, your side pressed against the wall as you tried to keep a reasonable amount of space between you two.

megan giggled and got in afterwards, staying on her side of the bed. there was an awkward moment until megan looks at you and opens her arms. you stared at her in disbelief, but you also wanted to be held by her. "come here," she beckoned. you shake your head and she kept persisting. it went back and forth for a while until megan had enough and pulled you in herself, tucking your head in her chest. "see? was it that hard?" she teased when she felt you melt into her.

"shut up, you're so annoying."

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

💬 .FIRST QUARREL. ゜(suggestive)

MEGAN WAS TOO PROTECTIVE. she was constantly checking up on you during patrol or getting distracted trying to see if you're safe or not, resulting in her getting heavily injured. you were flattered at first, but it has gotten way too out of hand. you couldn't even go out with her not watching your every move from a nearby rooftop or whatnot!

you were walking in the streets, your mind wandering of how you could talk about this to her, ignoring the buzzing of your phone. suddenly, a loud noise roared behind you and a loud stomp made it feel like an earthquake was happening. you turned around to see some funny looking guy in a suit the size of hulk, his vision trained on you.myou swallowed hard, your feet slowly backing up with every step the villain took towards you.

spider-girl swings in a second later, her foot colliding with his face, sending him down. the fall was quite hard since the suit was heavy and practically made out of metal. megan quickly rushed over to you, pulling you into the nearby alleyway. "what're you doing? i texted you multiple times to go somewhere safe!"

"well i didn't see them! so stop blaming me so much!" you snapped, your hands shoving her chest, pushing her back. she moves your hand away a little roughly. "if you checked your phone, you would've!" she argues.

"megan, have you ever thought that you're too protective? because you are! every waking moment is you checking if i'm okay when i am!" you let out a frustrated huff, your hands on your hips. "it's getting annoying."

"i'm just watching out for you! you're a huge target since an enemy saw you with me!" her voice falters for a moment before she recollected herself. "i almost lost you once, and i'm not taking any more risks!" she referred to when you got kidnapped and held hostage, which made you end up in the hospital with serious injuries. you were barely breathing when she found you. "if i had arrived a minute later then, you wouldn't be here right now."

"that was then. spidey, it's been six months–"

"six months or not, it could've happened again today!" she raised her voice, surprising you a little. "you don't know the other universe i've been to, and in every single one of them, you weren't here with me." her resolve was slightly cracking, her chest rising and falling with every sentence she shouted at you. your lips parted in shock, your brain short-circuiting for a hot minute.

"i..." you stammered. you remember her talking about it a while ago, and how it scared her for a long period of time. you knew it was a sensitive topic. your hands cautiously held her face, your thumb rubbing her cheek over her mask. "but i'm here with you, right now, in this universe." she leaned into your touch while listening to your words carefully. "you don't have to worry so much."

"but i have to."

you shake your head, your fingers lifting her mask to only reveal her lips. "no you don't. deep down, if you think i'm safe and sound, then i most definitely am, okay?" you lean in and place a soft, reassuring kiss on her lips. you were about to pull away when megan places her hands on your waist, pulling you closer to her body. your eyes flutter closed and you relaxed into the kiss, your arms wrapping themselves around her shoulders.

you tilt your head to the side as your arms tightened around megan, feeling like there was too much space between you. a small whimper escaped her lips and it drove you crazy. the sound of your lips on each other filled the quiet alleyway. your nails dug into her back when she broke away and trailed down to your neck, her lips peppering featherlight kisses onto the curve of your jaw.

her thumbs snuck its way under your shirt, grazing the soft skin of your stomach. you arched your back a little further, letting her pull you flush against her front. your hands slid down slowly, from her back to her shoulders to her chest, clutching on her suit as you move your head to give her easier access to your neck. until a loud ringing tone from megan's phone broke you two away from each other. megan groans and takes her phone out, seeing it's the police needing her to help clear up the scene and to calm down the civilians.

"well... i gotta go..." she began, looking at you with a knowing look. "but..."

"you know where you should be tonight," you said. she grins and plants another kiss on your lips. "you bet i do."

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

🤍 .ALL YOURS. ゜(slightly suggestive at end)

A SOFT KNOCK AT YOUR WINDOW let you know that megan was outside on the fire escape right outside your room. you smile to yourself, hanging the towel you were using to dry your hair over your chair. you walked over to the window, opening your blinds and lifting the glass upwards.

"hey, ma," megan greeted when you opened the window. she was upside down, her hands holding onto the web at held her up. you only rolled your eyes playfully, your elbows coming to rest on the window frame. "what're you doing here, spidey?" you ask but there was no signs of you wanting her to leave.

"what? can't i see my favorite girl?" her head leaned in and placed a soft, lingering kiss on your lips despite her mask still fully covering her face. you giggle at the absurdity of it all, your hands reaching up to lift her mask to reveal her lips.

"kiss me properly, idiot," you demanded playfully. megan listens and leaned in again, your lips officially connecting with hers. the kiss was tender, gentle– anything you would describe a kiss full of love. when you break away, you could only laugh, your head dipping and your shoulders shaking. "i can't with you being upside down," you chuckled.

"i can get down if you want." she didn't even wait for your answer when she let go of the web and landed on the fire exit with a small thud. you moved aside to let her climb through the window, making sure to make as little noise as possible so you both don't wake up your parents. "how's my angel?" she questions, her arm wrapping around your waist and pulling you into another kiss.

"never been better," you giggled, your head tilting up to meet her lips. "what about my pretty girl? everything alright? no injuries?"

"all clean and safe." she raised her hands up in mock surrender, showing no signs of serious wounds. your smile only widened and you engulf her into a hug. she hugged you back immediately, her arms wrapping around your torso, her hands resting on the small of your back. she buried her nose into your hair, inhaling the scent of your shampoo mixed with your natural calming scent. "you smell so good, baby."

"do i?" you ask, flattered. she nods, her finger brushing away the stray hairs from your face. "i need to dry my hair."

"no, keep it like this. at least for a couple more minutes," she pleaded, smelling your hair again. "it smells really good."

"i can always give you my shampoo."

"mm, i like it better on you." you laugh, your head falling onto her shoulder. "have i ever told you how annoying you are, spidey?" you ask. megan pretends to ponder before lamely putting up her index finger like a nerd. "you have. multiple times. but i'm your annoying spidey, aren't i?"

"mhm," you hum softly, pecking her on the lips. "you're all mine."

"well i hoped i was." she gently places a hand on your chest, pushing back onto your bed. she crawled on top of you right after, her lips already sucking on your neck hungrily. "i'm afraid your hair won't be dry for a while," she murmured, her voice muffled by your skin.

"i'm fine with that."

– fin. –

@cinnamanz @ninguitar @lararajjj i lowk forgot my taglist