#i think this is a turning point in the sense of... i don't think it was necessarily an epiphany at the time.

[lovelybucky1]

need bucky to fuck me to the view of the watchtower whilst yelena watches

bucky has you against the floor-to-ceiling window of his bedroom and you look out over park avenue with your breasts, hands, and cheek pressed against the glass. this is how you christened his bedroom when you first moved in, and it's become something of a routine for the two of you. you like the thrill of someone potentially catching you, though it's unlikely from so high up. and bucky, well, he like's the view of your ass.

you look out the window, taking in the sight of the orange sunset glittering through the metallic buildings. it's always so beautiful from up here, especially this time of day. you're looking across the street when something catches your eye; something that you've never seen before.

there's a person on the roof of the building directly across from you, and they're staring right at you. you almost convince yourself that you're seeing things, but then the person waves. your breath hitches, partly in fear of being watched, but it's not enough for you to tell bucky to stop.

"what's the matter, doll?" bucky asks, his voice a deep rumble in your ear.

"there's someone... watching," you say.

"they can't see you from all the way down there. got nothin' to worry about."

"no, bucky," you huff. "look."

he looks up and follows your pointing finger to find the person you're talking about. he is quiet for a moment before he begins to chuckle.

"not what i thought she meant when she said she was goin' for a walk," he says as he snakes his arm around your middle. he pulls you away from the glass and presses his chest flush to your back.

"what?" you ask, eyes still locked on the vouyer.

"be polite and wave to yelena, sweetheart," he says, the smirk evident in his voice.

you're barely able to make out her blonde hair and black tactical suit, but it's enough to confirm what bucky said. you hesitantly wave; you're mortified but you don't want to disobey bucky and make this situation even worse than it already is.

"what is she doing up here?" you ask.

"might've said somethin' about fuckin' you against the glass. guess she wanted to see for herself." he says it like it's casual, the most normal thing in the world to want to see how your teammate fucks his girlfriend. "we should put on a show for her, don't ya think?"

she sits down on the edge of the building and crosses her legs, making herself comfortable. you're surprised she didn't come with a bucket of popcorn as well. the hold bucky has on your waist tightens and his other hand travels up your body until it rests at the base of your throat.

"bucky," you moan. you should tell him to stop, that you don't want yelena to see you like this, but you can't. you like it. but you can't tell if you like being watched, or like her watching.

"i think she's got a thing for you, doll. look at the way she's lookin' at you." she's too far away for you to see the intricate details of her face, but you trust bucky's enhanced senses to pick up on her expression. "bet these are the prettiest tits she's ever seen."

you reach back to run your hand through bucky's hair, gently tugging on the roots which makes him groan. having his hair played with always drives him crazy. he bites the soft skin under your ear, his stubble scraping against your neck. he's trying his absolute hardest to ruin you.

suddenly, you're interrupted by a melodic chime. bucky's phone, which is buried in the pile of clothes on the floor next to you, is ringing. much to your dismay, bucky stops fucking you to pick it up, though he resumes when he hits the answer button.

he puts the phone on speaker and holds it up next to you, where you can read yelena on the display. you look across the street and see her holding her own cellphone up to her ear.

"is this the best you can do, barnes?"

"you tellin' me how to fuck my girl?"

"i was expecting a show." it's embarrassing how much it's turning you on that they're talking about you like you're not even there. "i could do better and my dick isn't even real."

"why don't you come over and show me how it's done, then?"

you don't realize the call disconnects. you don't even realize yelena has left the roof until you hear a knock at the door.

"think we've got ourselves a guest, doll," bucky says.

[troglobite]

possibly annoying addition, apologies, but for anyone curious (not a judgment on op or posting the photos, bc point successfully made--adding on bc there's a cool link to add, mainly, and bc i think it's helpful to explain this sort of thing):

photos 2 and 3 are real. 2 i know for a fact, as it was done by this woman (which dope to know in case you want to commission her, or want to look into this skill yourself as a cheaper way to get the stained glass effect)

https://uk.pinterest.com/pin/329255422757544676/

3 turns up a few photos of the same exact window with the same details but from different angles, and with different items in the shelf. unclear on the source, but seems to be a real window--i think. https://www.instagram.com/artndetails/p/C5D8On7Lo-p/?img_index=3 could be a very elaborate fake/edit.

photo 1 i'm on the fence about, as i can't find a source for it and it's just been reposted to hell and back--BUT the details and lighting look symmetrical, logical, consistent, and legit enough.

the last 3 are all fake/AI generated. the grand staircase one has extremely odd details that don't remain consistent or logical and seems to be a bad dupe of a legit stained glass window in a grand staircase, and the last two have dozens and dozens of similar photos that turn up with the same color scheme, themes, angles, and lighting, but all slightly different--as though they've come from the same round of prompts put into an image generator.

as a note for telling which were real before i did reverse image searches to double check:

the molding on the floors and walls of the second photo were consistent and identical everywhere in the photo. the carpeting had texture and inconsistencies and shows real wear and tear on the steps, where ppl most often walk. the light shining through the windows onto the wall matches the windows as seen pretty much exactly. the bees plastered onto the walls are *all identical* as they're the same decal over and over again. someone pointed out the railing as an inconsistency--but they simply don't see how the poles connect to the steps. each one is offset slightly (so likely 2 per most steps), and the number of poles isn't meant to match the number of steps. the patterns on the poles themselves, and of the poles, is consistent and identical throughout. there's also the implication of railing on the lower level behind the railing that's visible.

the first photo seems most likely real to me because of its symmetrical nature, the real believable texture of the glass and lighting, and the logical consistency of what's seen through the glass--it looks like there's a front porch, a street, and someone's lawn across the way. this is also very similar to real stained glass that i've seen done, and it makes sense that it would be exactly identical on both sides, though with variations in color, even though it's in reverse--you work off of patterns for this stuff, so mirroring a pattern and reproducing it for the other half would be easy.

photo 3 i'm significantly less sure about, but finding multiple photos of this window with details--that don't look fake--being identical between each photo, even though they're at different times of day and from different angles leads me to believe it may be real. the view through the glass is difficult, but it looks like seriously frosted/texture glass looking out onto a courtyard. one of the photos has the top tulips look more orange, but unclear if that's just because of the lighting. as is, the only tells that it MIGHT be real without reverse image searching is the clear logical consistency of the lighting--the crystal lamp has refracted light mostly correctly, and the colors and shapes of the light through the window is also correct. the window pulls, knobs, and shelves are all the same from photo to photo, and everything seems to respond to the light in roughly the same way.

tells it may be fake: it's just a weird fucking design. lol the dog is miss a paw, it's much smaller, there's a really badly shaped white flower in the bottom right corner, there's no source, and it's a very plain white room that looks out on??? a courtyard maybe? it feels disjointed and weird. hard to tell on this one, and even harder because it's been reposted a lot, including the photos from other angles, so a source is hard to find.

i've already said, briefly, what's wrong with photo 4. the stair railing (the iron is in incomprehensible shapes that don't repeat), the molding and details on the wall (they should match, and they don't--e.g., there's an embellishment high up on the right side that appears nowhere else on any wall), the "tree" that's either visible through the window or part of the window's design, and the fuzzy lack of clarity of objects in any of the designs (stair railing, crest of the window, elements on the walls) are giveaways that it's fake.

photo 5--all the things i noted about the real photos is true in the reverse here. the light through the window makes no sense. it doesn't match what's in the window, and there's no tinted color coming through. the way the light hits the walls, period, makes no logistical sense--there's no clear source of light that would account for ALL the light as seen. what's seen through the window--which isn't frosted and should therefore be clear--is fuzzy and inconsistent and doesn't clearly show us what's outside, unlike the first photo. it might be a generic landscape that's sort of patchy. the wall textures are bizarre and not to scale and don't appear to be any logical wall material. the pink looks like plaster, but the wall underneath the sill looks like cork that's been significantly zoomed in on. additionally, the flowers do not look the same and do not look like one species of flower. the top flower also has an incorrect petal, and the top leaves blend into a weird swoosh shape.

photo 6 is harder and more subtle. the giveaways/suspicions here are partly bc i've seen several AI photos like this before. but mainly, the tells are an unclear source of light: there are multiple points of different brightness--the lights under the hood make no sense. are they yellow, as seen on the backsplash/wall, or are they white, as seen through the glass itself? and unclear consistency on the texture and opacity of the glass itself. additionally, there are knobs missing on the visible drawers and cabinets. the view out the window doesn't appear logical or real, and doesn't appear to match the level of light in the room. the tile pattern on the backsplash--while believable at first glance--is also asymmetrical in a pretty significant way. the rows of color on the right and left aren't the same width, and the shape at the top point isn't a clear shape or symbol. it should be a flower or fleur de lis or something, but it's asymmetrical and has wayward pieces of tile in a way that seems clumsy, for something that looks like it should be precise. the items on the counter also don't make sense--they don't really hold up to close inspection. the oven itself looks mostly fine, which makes sense since there are so many images to pull details from and they're pretty standard/similar across the board.

If I won the lottery I wouldn't tell anyone, but there would be signs.

[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.

[wandanatsgf]

Inappropriate Feelings

Pairing: WandaNat x Reader

Word Count: 2.4k

Summary: you have feelings for two married women. When it gets in the way of your work they confront you

Warning this contains: praise kink, mommy kink, daddy kink, bondage, face riding, strap usage, fingering, orgasm control, name calling (just one time)

Part 2

You shouldn’t feel this way about one married woman, let alone two. You know it’s wrong. The way you feel when their hands ghost over yours. When they brush past you in the hallway or when they talk to you.

You get butterflies in your stomach. Your breathing gets short and it gets hard to think. Being around them is hard, your feelings always get in the way. They cloud your judgement until all you can think about is them kissing you, loving you, touching you.

Your feelings didn’t get in the way of your job, at least it didn’t until a few weeks ago.

You were on a mission with the two women, confined in the small space of the quinjet for hours. You struggled to remain calm around them. Your senses were in overdrive as they walked around the jet, talked to you. If you were naive you would even think they were flirting with you. But they’re married and you know better.

You struggle with your feelings, something you normally never do on a mission, until you finally landed at the job site. There you try to stuff your feelings down, trying to compartmentalize in order to complete the mission.

The three of you walked out of the hanger doors and run into the Hydra base you are meant to infiltrate.

It was supposed to be an easy mission. A simple mission. But nothing is ever easy when you’re an avenger.

You got ambushed, it was all a set up. And because you got distracted by how good Natasha looked while she was fighting a bad guy, you got shot.

It was just a bullet to the leg. Everyone gets shot at some point in your line of work. So to you, it was no big deal. But to Wanda and Natasha it was everything.

You had never seen them so upset and pissed off. You’re not sure if they were pissed with you or with the agent who shot you. You didn’t ask, too scared of the answer.

They spent the next couple of weeks taking care of you. Helping you get around the tower, h getting you anything you need, and eventually helping you with physical therapy.

You appreciated their help but all it did was remind you how they’re not yours. No matter how good being helped and babied by them feels, it’s not going to last.

So when you’re better, you push them away. Which is what you’re doing now. It's been weeks since you were healed and you're now able to do things on your own. The only thing left from the injury is a scar that is here to stay.

It's also been two weeks since you have seen them, touched them, interacted with them. But it's for the best this way, at least until you can get your feelings for them under control.

You're about to go train when Natasha puts herself in your path. You move to turn around, but she reaches out a hand to stop you.

“Come on. We need to talk,” Natasha says. Her tone is serious, her words short and to the point. Her words leave no room for arguments so you follow behind her as she walks the two of you to her room and shuts the door.

Wanda is already in there, sitting on the bed.

"You know what I think I'm needed elsewhere," you say, suddenly nervous about what's about to happen.

"No you don't baby," Wanda says. A red glow encases the door before it fades. You try the door and it's locked.

"Wanda," you whine. "Let me out." Your fists bang on the door and you attempt to pull the handle but you have no luck.

"Not until you tell us what's wrong." Concern is written all over her face. You can see it in her eyes. In the way she furrows her eyebrows.

"I can't," is all you say.

"Then I guess we'll be in here for a while." It's Natasha who speaks this time. Her eyes watch you, moving up and down. She's watching you like she's stalking prey, like she's just waiting to attack. And then finally recognition dawns on her face. She says nothing, just looks at Wanda. You think the two are having some sort of telepathic conversation, but you're not really sure.

"If you don't want to tell us we can always guess," Natasha suggests, breaking her eye contact with Wanda to look at you.

Wanda moves in front of you and situates herself so that her front is pressed against your front. You can feel her nipples through her thin t-shirt. You can smell her vanilla perfume and her strawberry shampoo.

You move to back up but Natasha stops you. She stands behind you, one hand on your waist, pinning you in place. You're trapped between the two women. It's like your wet dream come to life, if only they weren't interrogating you about your pesky little feelings for them.

"Now are you going to be a good girl and tell us the problem?" Natasha asks. Her words send a thrill down your spine and a sticky straight to your core.

You nod your head no, too scared that your voice would betray you.

"It's okay baby. We know what the problem is," Wanda says, her tone sickly sweet. Her lips get close to yours. So close that you can feel her breath ghosting over you. If you wanted to you could count the flecks of brown in her eyes.

“We see how you look at us baby,” Natasha says, her lips ghosting over your exposed neck.

"I can hear your dirty little thoughts about us, thoughts you think no one can hear," Wanda whispers. Her words are like a bucket of ice water that has been dumped on you. They're sobering.

"I-um," you stumble out. Even though you're an avenger, you're stumped on what to say. You can't think of a lie that could save your ass right now.

"It's okay baby. You wanna know a secret? We like you too," Wanda says. Once the words leave her mouth her lips capture yours in a heated kiss. You kiss her back, reciprocating her affection.

Natasha, who is still behind you, peppers kisses up your neck. "You have no idea how much we like you detka."

"I think I'm starting to understand," you say against Wanda's lips.

The two woman move you over to their bed and lay you down.

"Is it okay if we tie you up," the red haired woman asks.

"Please," is all you say.

"I told you she'd like it," Wanda quips.

"Mind reader," you say, rolling your eyes.

"What was that baby?" Wanda pins you to the bed with her hand around your throat.

"Nothing mommy I'm sorry."

"There's my good girl. You're catching on quick, huh?" You nod yes and Wanda removes the hand from your throat and steps back to let's Natasha take over.

Natasha reappears in your line of sight with rope in hand, although you never actually noticed her leaving. She makes quick work of tying your hands to the bedpost, leaving you completely at their mercy.

"How's that feel?" Natasha softly asks you.

"Good."

"If it's too much say red and everything stops okay?"

"Okay daddy."

"Good girl." The praise leaves your core aching, but you're sure the two women will fix that soon.

Natasha is on one side of you while Wanda is on the other. The two women are standing over the bed, just admiring you.

"You're so pretty like this, all spread out for us," Wanda says.

"We just need to get these pesky clothes out of the way," Natasha says, looking at Wanda. Wanda nods in understanding because the next thing you know you're naked, bare and exposed before them. Wanda also removes their own clothes, so you can see all of them. It's the most beautiful sight you've ever seen. And based on the looks on their faces they are feeling the same about you.

As if it is a practiced dance Wanda moves to your head while Natasha moves between your legs, sucking and biting your thighs. She's teasing you, ignoring the place you want her most.

While Nat does that Wanda straddles your face, her legs on either side of you, caging you in.

"Come on baby, stick your tongue out. Let mommy ride your face," Wanda encourages. You stick your tongue out and Wanda lowers herself onto your face, grinding back and forth. Her clit bumps into your nose with each thrust, causing her to moan loudly.

"You making mommy feel good baby?" Natasha asks, still pressing teasing kisses to your thighs. You groan in response, which makes Wanda tremble above you.

While Wanda continues to ride your face, Natasha finally stops her teasing. She spreads your legs and positions herself between them.

"Such a cute little wet pussy," Natasha murmurs before she slides a finger up your center, making you gasp.

"Please daddy," you try to say, but it comes out all garbled from Wanda being on your face.

"It's okay baby I'll give it to you." Natasha slides a finger into you, making you moan out. Wanda's movements stutter above you, you can tell she's getting close the longer she rides you.

"Fuck," Wanda moans out. "You look so pretty when I ride you baby." Wanda's movements speed up as she chases her orgasm while you're chasing your own. Natasha's finger pistons inside you and then she adds another. The pleasure intensifies and you can feel the coil in your stomach getting ready to snap.

"Please let me cum," you try to say, although it comes out mumbled. You're thankful that Natasha can understand you.

"Come on baby. Cum on Daddy's fingers." Her words are all it takes for you to let go. Your body spasms and shakes as your release hits you. Your moans vibrate through Wanda's pussy and also send her over the edge. You swallow everything she gives you, licking your lips when she gets off of you. She walks into their closet while Natasha climbs up your body and leaves a gentle kiss on your lips.

"You were such a good girl for us baby," Natasha says. "But we know you can give us more." The glint in her eyes is intoxicating, it makes you want to give her more orgasms until you're completely spent and putty in their arms.

Wanda walks back out with a strap on around her waist. The scarlet colored strap dangling between her legs. It's bigger than anything you've ever taken, and you say so.

"It's okay baby, I'll make it fit." Wanda's words have you getting wet all over again. Wanda positions herself in between your legs, and slowly pushes into you.

"Shh it's okay detka," Natasha says, comforting you. She kisses you softly, distracting you from the burning stretch of the dildo entering you. Natasha slowly pulls back and brings a hand to your clit, rubbing in circles.

Wanda sits there with the strap still for a few minutes, letting you adjust.

"You can move," you finally say.

Wanda fucks up into you. The strap hits places inside of you that you didn't even know exist. It feels amazing, but you're still not quite satisfied.

"Daddy," you moan out. "Wanna please you." You want, no need, to please Natasha. You want her to cum on your face, feel the same kind of pleasure you're experiencing right now.

"You want daddy to sit on your face sweetheart?" Wanda asks, continuing to fuck you.

"Please," you beg.

"Give our little slut what she wants Natalia." Wanda keeps fucking into you. The strap feels amazing inside of you and you can feel your orgasm building.

Natasha lowers herself on to your face, suffocating you with her pussy. If this is how you were to die you would die happy. You stick your tongue out and lap at her pussy, tasting her. She tastes sweet and you can already tell her pussy is a taste you'll be craving for the rest of your life.

"There you go baby," Natasha moans out when you slip her clit into your mouth and suck on it. "Keep on sucking me just like that."

Wanda continues to fuck into you and soon you're close. Your hips are bucking up to meet hers, your moans become more frequent. You're desperate for release.

"You can cum when Nat cums,"" Wanda tells you, invigorating our efforts to make the redhead cum as fast as possible. You suck on her clit harder and soon you have Natasha seeing stars. She smooshes your head between her thighs, her orgasm overtaking her body. She cums in your mouth and you swallow it all.

Once Natasha stops shaking and gets off of you, Wanda gives you permission to cum. Your pussy clenches around her strap and you scream out. The pleasure is too good, it overtakes your body and leaves you spent. Your body turns to jello as Wanda slowly slips out of you.

Wanda takes off the harness and throws it off to the side. The two women collapse beside you, one on either side. Wanda uses her magic to untie you and the ropes disappear. The only sign that they were ever there are the faint rope marks around your wrists, which Wanda notices.

"Give me your wrists." You give Wanda your wrists and she magics some ointment beside her. She opens the jar and rubs the cream on one wrist while Natasha does the other.

"Anywhere else hurt?" Natasha asks.

"No," you say.

"You sure honey?" Wanda's use of the nickname honey has you melting against her.

"mhm I'm sure."

"Good girl," Natasha says, proud of you for speaking up. Her words have the flame in your core reigniting. The praise goes right to your pussy.

"Daddy," you whine, wanting the two of them to use you again. Wanda notices your excitement and puts a stop to it.

"Natalia!" Wanda exclaims. "Stop teasing her. She needs to rest before we use her again."

"But she likes it when I tease her, don't you baby?"

"Yes daddy," you agree.

"Shhh baby your mommy's right. You need to rest so we can have some fun later okay?" Natasha says, like she wasn't just instigating and teasing you.

"Okay," you pout, not truly happy about this decision, but you know you need the rest. Your muscles ache, your body spent in ways it hasn't been in a while.

The two women choose to ignore your pouting, this time.

"Rest baby. Then we'll make you feel good later," Wanda says. You nod in agreement and situate yourself in between the two women. Natasha wraps an arm around you while Wanda tangles her legs with yours. The quiet, calm atmosphere lulls you to sleep. You fall asleep excited for what's to come, knowing round two will await you when you wake up.

[sysig]

Justify away (Patreon)

[beka-tiddalik]

"Oh good! I was hoping to talk to you!"

"...are you serious, sire?"

"Yes! I have heard you have a real vision for the kingdom! I don't really understand it, but Lionel and Getrude were getting excited talking about it and Kimberton was turning purple so I know it must be some amazing stuff."

"...Falloway and Hunter's Idyll like my ideas? Wait no, I was here to kill you."

"And I really admire that you weren't going to leave the dirty work to one of your subordinates. It really shows that you're committed to your goals. That's the kind of drive this kingdom needs. My grandmother would have really liked you."

"Sire, I am literally holding the poisoned dagger in my hand."

"Well be careful with it, because I have a better idea that won't involve the factions in the Council turning into different sides of a civil war. Or at least, that's what Lionel is worried about. Gertrude is more worried that the Hurgen will sense weakness and try to annex us again."

"...your advisors have a point."

"Oh you think so? I was hoping you'd all get on. You'll have to if we get married, it would be no good if my wife didn't get on with my best advisors."

"Your What?! No, stop talking. Let me think for a minute."

"..."

"..."

"I just realised I didn't ask you properly. Please. Please? Would you marry me so that you can be Queen? I'll let you do all the ruling, I just want to go back to working on the idea I had for better fertiliser for the farmers."

"... you know what? I think we can come to some kind of arrangement."

A king who doesn't really want to and isn't able to run the kingdom properly catches wind of a noble woman who wants to kill him to take over and he realizes she is extremely competent so he decides to propose to her to save everyone the hassle and they have a surprisingly healthy relationship.

[devilish-cherry]

choso relationship headcanons pt 2 ♡

ᨳ♡₊➳ choso x reader

ᨳ♡₊➳ crack, fluff

ᨳ♡₊➳ part one

ᨳ♡₊➳ me, not posting content for months: 🛌💤

also me the second choso crosses my mind: 🧍‍♀️💻🔥

i abandoned you all for two months but crawled out from under my rock at the call of my choso thirst alone. brand consistency is on point. nature is healing. please accept these headcanons as a humble offering before i crawl back into my hole. 😌🖤

₊⊹. choso's idea of waking you up gently is hovering over your sleeping form silently, staring until your soul feels his presence, and you wake up in sheer terror. "good morning," he deadpans, genuinely puzzled by your startled gasp. "were you dreaming badly?"

₊⊹. choso insists on watching those overly dramatic soap operas with you because his memories vaguely recall his vessel's grandma watching them. now he's deeply invested in the plot. you find him dramatically yelling at the tv, "do not give him the rose, mari! he betrayed your trust!" if you miss an episode, he's like, "i have updates. you will not believe who betrayed who."

₊⊹. he's surprisingly good at video games once he learns them, but is personally betrayed whenever your animal crossing villagers move out. you find him softly murmuring to your switch, "was my hospitality inadequate?"

₊⊹. choso discovered cooking tutorials on youtube exactly once and now he's committed to mastering japanese cuisine. unfortunately, it usually ends up with rice burnt to the bottom of your favorite pan. he always looks so earnestly distressed, blinking at the scorched remains, "this isn’t how chef kenichi said it would turn out…"

₊⊹. once he found out houseplants increase serotonin, your apartment basically turned into a botanical garden. he gets emotionally attached to each plant. you swear you've caught him softly reassuring a succulent, "you are doing well. keep photosynthesizing."

₊⊹. he knows how to use chopsticks, shake hands, and make a dentist appointment, all thanks to his vessel, but he has never emotionally processed any of those things. he does them like he’s cosplaying a civilian. that’s why he answers the door for the delivery driver by simply saying, “greetings.” and then doesn’t move to take the bag. just stares. the driver glances at the food, at choso, back at the food, like maybe this is a very elaborate mugging. you quickly jump in and handle the transaction while choso whispers to you, “they were unusually tense. suspicious?”

₊⊹. choso genuinely thinks the "don't talk to me until i've had my coffee" mugs you bought ironically mean you require silence in the morning. so every dawn, he sits in complete silence next to you, handing you coffee with reverence like you’re some ancient deity who must not be angered.

₊⊹. he knows how laundry works, in theory. but the first time you ask him to handle it, he somehow ends up washing your whites with a vibrant red hoodie. now everything you own is pink. he looks at you, tilting his head slightly. "pink suits you. i improved your wardrobe."

₊⊹. he doesn’t fully get sarcasm, so when you joke, "wow, love that for us," after you both spectacularly burn dinner, he nods sincerely, "i also appreciate our unified failure." he eventually adopts your sarcastic sense of humor but misses the delivery entirely, resulting in gems like, "oh great, another sunny day. precisely what we needed." completely serious, staring at a cloudless sky.

₊⊹. he tries to cheer you up by sending animal videos he discovers online but sends you bizarrely intense wildlife survival clips instead. "look, love. it's a meerkat narrowly escaping death. inspiring, isn't it?"

₊⊹. your first time visiting a pet cafe was his personal awakening. now, whenever he's stressed, you inevitably end up at the local cat café watching him silently commune with the cats. "they understand," he assures you while cradling a grumpy-looking cat named 'pancake'. "we should consider joint custody of this cat."

₊⊹. he knows what a “joke” is. he even knows the formula. set up → punchline → laughter. but when he tries to tell one, it’s like watching someone who read about humor but has never experienced it. he also always forgets the punchline halfway through and solemnly finishes, "i'm sorry. this was supposed to be humorous."

₊⊹. choso likes to hold hands, but doesn't quite understand when it’s socially acceptable. you once ended up awkwardly holding his hand while explaining to your landlord why the sink was broken, choso calmly beside you, fingers entwined, giving zero context.

₊⊹. choso tries texting you once, but doesn't understand emojis. you receive an ominous message: "Come home. 🔪🍅" and spend the entire day convinced something horrifying awaits you. turns out, he just wanted help cutting tomatoes.

₊⊹. choso believes firmly in quality cuddle sessions. he doesn't ask; he merely strategically drapes himself nearby until you notice and concede. you finally ask why he doesn't just say he wants cuddles, and he blinks slowly. "that seems aggressive."

₊⊹. choso finds diy tutorials online and tries them secretly to surprise you. spoiler alert: he’s hilariously bad at them. you've come home to questionable-looking clay mugs, half-painted canvases, and one very strange knitted... something. he presents each with absolute sincerity, "it is handmade. by me."

₊⊹. he randomly gives you head pats but doesn’t understand the social nuance, sometimes patting your head gently during serious conversations. "this is comfort." he declares, clearly satisfied with himself.

₊⊹. you once sarcastically called him “my strong little man” after he carried a heavy grocery bag. this man did not talk for an hour. he was processing. he sat down with a glass of water and said, “i am not little. but i am... yours.” you almost choked.

₊⊹. choso is basically your shadow in public places because he learned from his vessel's memories that partners stay close. sometimes so close he accidentally steps on your heel repeatedly. if you ever ask him for more space, he just blinks, totally deadpan. "i am ensuring your safety."

₊⊹. one day, you jokingly said, "ugh, i’d marry whoever does the dishes tonight," and you've never seen choso move so fast in his life. the plates nearly shattered from his enthusiasm alone.

₊⊹. if you ask him to pass you a towel while showering, he reaches into the bathroom with his eyes dramatically shut tight. his determination to respect your privacy while also being helpful is ridiculously endearing.

₊⊹. despite his perpetual resting bored face, choso genuinely believes everything you do is incredibly cool. you open a tricky jar? "incredible strength." you manage to fix the wifi router? "unmatched technological prowess." he looks at you like you're simultaneously beyoncé and albert einstein incarnate. it’s honestly adorable.

₊⊹. sometimes, he stares at your shared life, photos, plants, mugs, and mutters to himself, “i never thought i’d have this.”

[mrs-stans]

🚨 SPOILER ALERT

Is Bucky still a congressman? Sebastian Stan breaks down the Winter Soldier's return in Thunderbolts*

"Ultimately he realizes, 'No, I am who I am, and I do things how I do them, and I should just do that,'" Stan tells EW.

By Sydney Bucksbaum

This article contains spoilers about Thunderbolts*.

The biggest shock in Captain America: Brave New World had nothing to do with Harrison Ford turning into a Red Hulk or Sam Wilson (Anthony Mackie) somehow surviving their fight despite not having any super soldier serum running through his veins. Nope, it was actually Sebastian Stan's quick, bizarre cameo revealing that Bucky Barnes... was running for Congress.

Yes, the mass-murdering, former Hydra operative was on the campaign trail, running for a seat in the House of Representatives. Why not! And as we learn at the beginning of Thunderbolts*, despite his decades of killing as the Winter Soldier, Bucky wins the race and becomes Brooklyn's congressman. Weirder things have happened in politics, but still...

However, as Valentina Allegra de Fontaine (Julia Louis-Dreyfus) snidely points out later in the movie, Bucky only lasts half a term before donning his black leather jacket, hopping on a motorcycle, and letting his Winter Soldier freak flag fly again. And with Val publicly declaring that he, along with the rest of the Thunderbolts team, is now the New Avengers, is Buckty's political career officially over?

Since it's not clear onscreen, Entertainment Weekly went straight to Stan to find out. "Yeah, it's almost like crossing it out, right?" the actor tells EW. "He's still been trying to find his way of how he can contribute in a way that he hasn't before. Ultimately, he realizes, 'No, I am who I am, and I do things how I do them, and I should just do that.'"

Stan laughs before adding, "But there's a lot of strange congressmen these days anyway, so..." As he trails off, his costar Wyatt Russell points out that Bucky wouldn't have to give up his congressional seat "technically, theoretically," to act as the Winter Soldier.

"The only issue I had was, 'Well, why is he growing out his hair if he's going to be a congressman?!'" Stan adds. "But I still wanted to grow it out, so I was like, 'I don't care.'"

Thunderbolts* director Jake Schreier agrees with Stan's answer about Bucky's political future being dead on arrival. "I think that's pretty well done," the filmmaker tells EW. "I think he's found a new place that makes much more sense for him."

When Stan learned that Bucky was running for Congress in his brief Captain America: Brave New World appearance, he remembers feeling "curiosity and apprehension" about that shocking new direction for his character.

"But I think it is funny," he adds. "I think it was an interesting turn that I didn't see [coming], and I think probably a lot of people wouldn't have seen."

Getting back on Bucky's motorcycle in one of Thunderbolts* best action scenes felt more natural, especially since it mirrored his MCU debut in Captain America: The Winter Soldier 11 years ago. "It was interesting because, after the TV show Falcon and the Winter Soldier, I think we got him further along in a good head space where I feel he is now just finally realizing how to incorporate some of those Winter Soldier characteristics and get a handle on them," Stan says. "And so it was fun bringing back some of those moments with the new Bucky that we've established and to find the humor and the cool, dangerous factor as well. That was nice."

The director confirms that the motorcycle sequence was an intentional callback to Bucky's original entrance.

"Having Sebastian actually out there on that bike and doing this stuff and no green screen to it, just felt really special," Schreier says. "Bucky is just such a legend within the world, and then obviously within the world of people who care about these movies. The trick is for someone who's on their ninth film, how do you do something new, because he has been through those therapy sessions in Falcon and Winter Soldier. He is not in the same place that the rest of them are in."

Schreier loved showing Bucky struggle with his new, "frustrating" political career, because it clearly wasn't an "honest" path for him, only for him to reappear "in a more healed version" of who he'd been before as the Winter Soldier. "Back on that motorcycle doing Bucky things," he adds, "but with a new group of people that, even if it's the least expected thing, might be the best fit for him because what he's gone through, they're going through now, and he has something to offer them in that regard.

Let's hope Sam can appreciate that and stop fighting Bucky over the group's New Avengers team name.

Thunderbolts* is now playing in theaters.

[aphrosheir]

>>> Red Hair, Red Wine, Red Handed Pt. 1 <<<

[A/N: Like, omg. I've been gone for so long. Anyways, enjoy this Melissa fic. I've been cooking up for the last week. I don't know if it makes sense? I hope it does. Melissa and (Y/N) are idiots. Barb is tired of it. Ava wants drama. I hope I did the amazing storytelling of Abbott Elementary justice—everyone say thank you to Quinta! This has like, a lot of Easter eggs. Have fun finding them. I really had a lot of fun writing this.

ITALICS ARE CONFESSIONALS!!!

For the sake of... fitting the word count, this "oneshot" is going to be split into 3 parts.

If y'all enjoy this, I have an idea—completely unrelated to the plot of this one, but set in the same universe—but I'm not too good at keeping those promises. Depends!]

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

"So, like I said, Melissa should be the one hosting the party!" Jacob announces to the rest of the faculty with finality and glee.

"Calm down, Hill," she warned, giving the man a side glare. "Just 'cause the rest of youses cooking ain't shit, doesn't mean that I'm gonna turn my house into your personal hotel for Christmas."

"I love Christmas. I do. But you think I’m cleaning up Jacob’s Pinterest Turkey Disaster 2.0? Fuggedaboutit."

"Melissa," Barbara clutched her pearls, a look of betrayal crossing her face as she turned to her work wife. "I'll have you know that I make a darn good prime rib and sweet potato pie for my homeboy, J. Christ!"

Janine stares at her work mother with concern, wondering how much pop culture has Ava and (Y/N) been able to slip into her morning coffee today. Her boyfriend, Gregory, on the other hand, just stares at the camera, pointed at them with eyes that pretty much sums up his exasperation.

Meanwhile, (Y/N) is off giggling at the other side of the faculty lounge, enjoying the seed she had planted. She was, after all, a kindergarten teacher. She knew how to have fun.

You see, Christmas was about a week away. (Y/N), ever the one to die without drama, has thought of a most brilliant plan to fuel her desires: A Christmas dinner for the faculty. Chaos at every corner, burnt food, terrible presents, and even worse karaoke. It was perfect.

"What are you giggling at, shortstack?" Melissa's eyes snapped to the girl, her glasses now perched on top of her head and phone on the table. Her enchanting hazel eyes are now on (Y/N).

Well, shit.

(Y/N) loved the Abbott crew. She loved the drama, chaos, and the occasional camera crew that came with them. She loved them like her own family. But she loved one of them a little more than the others.

Oh, how the raging fire draws in the naive moth.

"Me? Well, Melissa, I know that you love me, but what do I have to do with this?"

(Y/N) ignored the burning of her cheeks and sent a wink to the redhead's way, playing down her insanely noticeable crush; flirting shamelessly and fighting like an old married couple—or two immature children, depending on the day.

But the crew was used to it by now, especially Barbara, who raised a perfectly plucked brow, seeing how far the two would take it before finally realising.

"Melissa and (Y/N) are two extremely smart and capable women." Barbara states with the passion and theatrics that the kindergarten teacher usually carries, but her smile drops at the end of the statement. "But God knows that those two are about as oblivious as the walnuts in Ava's oats."

Melissa responded as eagerly as (Y/N) had started, pursing her lips. "Don't play dumb with me, dolcezza. I've shared lunch with you a lot of times. I need someone who isn't gonna burn down the kitchen with water."

"Melissa Ann Caterina Schemmenti asking for help?" Ava's voice cut through the thick, unyielding tension in the air, clearly looking to stir the pot.

"I am so tired of them dancing around each other. And not to mention that (Y/N) basically treats me as her personal diary! She doesn't even pay me. I cannot take this anymore."

"(Y/N), you are quite literally a little miracle."

"Shut it, Coleman." (Y/N) bites back at Ava, hopping off the table where she was seated, before waltzing towards Melissa. She got up right on the redhead's face with a sickly smile, "But then again, how could I ever resist you, mi amore?"

Pretending to roll her eyes, Melissa returned to her already cold macchiato with a scoff. "I still can't host, though. I don't want to be cleanin' up after y'allses drunk asses."

"Oh, well, I can host! Just as long as Janine helps me with the decorations," (Y/N) volunteers, and she swears she could hear Melissa's thick accent muttering about her being a suck-up or something.

"What?" Melissa exclaims at the camera, her glare piercing through the lenses.

Janine squeals, sending a shock through the spines of the faculty. "Of course, I'll join (Y/N)! It'll be an honour."

"I can plan!" Jacob announces, standing with the two girls.

"Okay, so I already have a Pinterest board ready, a playlist we can listen to, and matching outfits!"

"It's like if the sun and Redbull had a baby and them babies were triplets." Ava chimed in, staring at the three youngest members of the faculty exchanging ideas at a hundred miles per hour.

As the clock ticks its last tocks to the end of their break, Jacob stands in the middle of the room, "So, (Y/N) is hosting. She'll be cooking alongside Melissa, and the rest of us will bring a dish of our own—Gregory did you put this in here?"

"I had to."

"Put what where?"

"Open parenthesis, asterisk, caps, underlined, "EDIBLE", exclamation mark, exclamation mark, exclamation mark, close parenthesis."

The glances exchanged in the room ranged from eye rolls, knowing, mischievous, and downright evil. Later on, Gregory would come to regret his choice of words like a monkey's paw.

"Alright... Well, let's continue. I'm in charge of overall planning, Ava and Barbara running Secret Santa, Gregory, and Janine on décor, O'shon gets the karaoke machine—goodluck, and Mr. Johnson with the clean up. Be there before 4. Any questions?"

A unanimous chorus of "no" from the crew—and a helpless "I ain't cleanin' up no love juice, y'all hear me?" from Mr. Johnson—signalled the end of their meeting. But before Melissa could walk out of the break room, (Y/N)'s fingers danced lightly on her waist.

"You can come a little early if you want to have a bit of fun." (Y/N) 'whispered' theatrically with her signature wink, letting the message ring through the lounge. Emerald-green eyes shoot her a dangerous glare—equal parts mischief and warning.

Barb offers a sign of the cross while Janine is mentally cursing herself for agreeing to come early, too.

"Get a damn room." Ava groans, walking between the two with a force that separated them before stopping at the door frame. "Let me know which one, though."

The crew stares at the cameras.

"Stop it." Gregory states, devoid of emotion, as he just so happens to be beside Ava and spit out the freshly brewed joe he attempted to gulp down back into his "#3 Best Teacher" mug. "STOP IT."

"I think you just broke my man," Janine declares with concern as Gregory's stiff speedwalk carried him into the safety of his classroom.

The day could not have come any sooner for (Y/N), as Melissa actually took up her offer of coming early, claiming that she needed as much prep time as she could have.

"Ava, I don't know what to wear," she muttered on the phone, feeling herself slipping from reality. "I mean, yes—these dresses are absolutely gorgeous, but I don't think they're it, y'know."

The complaints turned into a grumble, making Ava roll her eyes at her friend's antics. "Baby girl, what do you mean 'it'. You don't wanna be lookin' like no clown there."

"Ava Eva Coleman."

"I know, I know. But, girl. Trust me when I say, Red will be all over you anyways! I mean, come on, have you seen the way she looks at you? I swear I could've seen her drooling that one time you were sick and stuck in hoodies for a week."

It was now (Y/N)'s turn to roll her eyes. As much as she was grateful to find an older sister in Ava, she knew that her boss exaggerates... Well, everything.

"Seriously, don't you have any dresses I could borrow?"

"I love you, (Y/N), but these dresses were made for Ava Coleman—and Ava Coleman does not cook."

"Then what am I supposed to wear?"

"Wear the red dress."

"But, Ava, that's too—"

Before she could protest, the hang-up tone beeped through her bedroom and made way to the brain-crushing silence that followed.

Just as she had put down the brown Mac lipstick that Ava had given her, the doorbell had rang, and her heart dropped to her ass. Curses flew around her as she almost burned herself on the iron she had left on her vanity.

Ding.

Ding.

Ding.

The rings became even more impatient, and (Y/N) could already feel the scalding remarks that the redhead had in-store for her.

"I'm coming, jeez," (Y/N) yelled, padding down the stairs. "Really, Schemmenti, you could've just said that you missed me."

"As if, shortstack. I could say the same for—"

Melissa's quip hung in the air as she took you in, surprise flooding her. But as quick as she was shot down, Melissa was as quick to regain her composure. Of course she did. She was used to the game that you two had played, ever since the first day you've stepped foot into Abbott.

"Well, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you got all dressed up for me, huh, dolcezza?"

That damned nickname always got butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

Stepping back, she let her into the quiant home with a smirk. "You don't look all that bad either; a Philly 11 indeed."

"Yeah, yeah. I still need to fix all of this after we cook, though."

"Hm..." Melissa hummed, raking her eyes over the house. "A house at your age? I'm surprised (Y/N)."

"Okay, I have like... The faintest idea of how old she is. Like, she barely looks 11!"

"It's my father's. One of his properties that he so graciously lent to me. But, I am paying it off. I insisted." (Y/N) looks at the bags hanging on Melissa's fingers, spotting a perfectly wrapped gift in a bag amongst all the cooking supplies she hauled in. A very welcome distraction from whatever the conversation was leading to.

Without another word, she reached down to grab them and set them out on the counter.

"(Y/N), what the hell do you think you're doing," she exclaims in her classic Schemmenti fashion. "Gimme those back."

"Calm down, mi amore." (Y/N) deadpanned, unknowingly letting the nickname slip. She walked over to the massive tree, standing in the middle of her living room and gently placing the gift down. "This is probably the only time you'll see me actually be helpful, and I'm honestly wondering who you got for Secret Santa."

"It's for her. Of course, it's for her."

Melissa looked away from the camera with annoyance. "I don't even know the first thing about the girl."

"I just—she wouldn't shut up about this corny little jawn she found online. Had to call in a favour from a guy I know. Cost me a good chunk'a beer. And gas. And my morals—but hey, who's got 'em in this day and age?"

"Don't even think about peeking, shortie." Melissa fires at her, something triggering her flight of fight mode as her usual quips didn't have the edge thay she had to her voice now. "I could ask you the same thing, seeing as your gift is as huge as Ava's ego."

"It's for someone real special, Red." (Y/N) said in an almost dreamy sigh, Melissa's face contorting into something of a blend between confusion, disgust, and something else that (Y/N) couldn't quite place. "Don't worry your pretty little head about it, hm?"

Melissa pursed her lips again, thoughts running through her head like Sweet Cheeks in his wheel, yet thought better than to push it. The classic Schemmenti move to push away genuine feelings and to opt for:

"Well, just don't expect me to cry for anything less than a thousand buckaroos, hon."

"You're assuming it's for you? Wow, Schemmenti. You wish."

"It's for her. Of course, it's for her." (Y/N) let out a laugh that one could only call deranged. "It's always been Melissa."

"Got her this top of the line, custom-made knife set. My friend, Gordon, recommended it to me. It's heavy for all the chopping that Melissa does and with ornate wood handles with her initials because Italians like the pizzazz."

Clang.

"Shit."

"Mel, you okay back there?"

"M'fine." Melissa replied gruffly.

"But see, that's the thing! That's why I stick to flirting. Melissa is not ready for a relationship. She barely even handles non-romantic emotion properly!"

The camera cuts to Melissa raging a war on the automatic stove—hitting it with a frying pan with a war cry, pushing the buttons relentlessly, staring at it and hoping it'll catch on fire and disintegrate; cursing (Y/N) for having techy gabortz in her kitchen that is crushing her damn pride. "(Y/N), your thingamajig is shit! Stoves are supposed to have knobs, not opinions!"

"And besides, I doubt she even likes me."

[raptorific]

Few quick points:

I am not interested in interrogating JK Rowling's motivations for agreeing to let Warner Bros make her books into a show. We all know she's a bigot and that she wants to spite the original cast for turning on her. That said, WB is paying her a great deal of money to let them do it. Even if she had zero ulterior motives, her saying "yes, you may pay me to adapt my books" would make perfect sense and require no further explanation

I am interested in why Warner Bros would think it's a wise financial decision to sink so many millions of dollars into making a Product attached to a controversial name, when the target market for that Product already has it and is satisfied with it. If you're selling cars, you're not gonna have much luck selling to people who have a relatively new car that works very well and that they really like, especially not if the new car is a Collab with a guy everybody hates now

My question in this post, which I spent the bulk of specifically saying "I am not talking about JK Rowling" for a reason, was why I would want this made. In this world, JK Rowling's a bigot, so obviously I don't want them to pay her to make a TV show out of her books, but even in a world where I don't have that reason, where JK Rowling was still normal and I was still a passionate fan of the books, why would a passionate fan even want another adaptation when the original, fairly recent adaptations were generally well-received and faithful to the source material?

Emma Watson and Emma Stone are two different people

The thing that gets me about the impending Harry Potter show is like. I'm able to, for entirely hypothetical purposes, put aside my disdain and disgust for the author's full-tilt bigotry and put myself in the shoes of someone who's still a Fan, like I would be if the author hadn't doubled, tripled, and quadrupled down on being a full-tilt bigot, and even then, imagining the alternate universe where JKR remained a staunch ally and well-meaning if clueless liberal philanthropic darling, I still can't quite wrap my head around why I'd want this show to be made

[essycogany]

Sonic HATES Being Wrong

Like…to an extreme degree. Let me elaborate.

This is a very interesting detail I’ve noticed ever since I made my Sonic’s Flaws post. Here, I’d like to talk about Sonic’s most fatal flaw because this conversation gets interesting. The flaw is one every variation of Sonic can be guilty of and one that causes the most damage to his world and even the people he cares about. If you disagree, I understand. Just hear me out and even if I don’t convince you, I hope this turns out to be a fun read regardless. Feel free to give me some context, correct me, or add information if you‘d like.

The Flaw

Sonic is terribly pertinacious and stubborn. Most people would think of Sonic Prime where he doesn’t listen to his friends warning him to not destroy the paradox prism, but when I think of Prime!Sonic I don't think of that. Especially since this version comes off more as an inexperienced teenager trying to figure things out. While in the games, he’s portrayed as rarely being wrong. Not because he’s perfect, but because Sonic never feels the need to change because of past victories. After all, if everything is going his way, why should he change, right? Well, this can be a problem. The scene in S3 ep3 where a few of the pirates were lost at sea, shows how truly stubborn Prime!Sonic (and Sonic in general), can be. He verbally refuses to take accountability for lost resources and unknowingly helps Nine have better predominance over them.

In this scene, No Place was decaying and Sonic finds out that the other pirate crew was stuck there. Everyone else, even the villains, reasonably says it’s too risky and he ignores them. Of course, he is within reason but if things went sour, it would’ve been his fault. Especially since that almost became a reality before the Chaos Council swooped in to help.

Near the end of the episode, Sonic says it’s a win for everyone, but Mr. Doc says, “Was it? Your little friends are safe, but at what cost? The fox can conjure up more minions with the snap of his fingers. Whereas our fleet is damaged, our troops are spent, and we’re almost out of time.” Surprisingly reasonable call out of the consequences of saving the pirates, if they don’t have enough resources, they were even more screwed than before. Then Sonic says, “I’m sorry but losing anyone is not an option.” While it’s warranted and makes sense for his character, it almost comes across as “We had to save them because I said so.” This is an example of Sonic not having a good argument by addressing the results of their battle. He does it a lot more than you’d think. Despite Sonic not listening to people being a bigger staple of Prime, I personally think it’s never expanded upon or executed well. Not to me anyway, but I don’t mind anyone disagreeing.

In any case, Sonic, as a character in every continuity, tends to “follow by his own rules” but this can be perceived negatively as “doing whatever he wants no matter who argues with him.”

Examples

Sonic Boom Rise of Lyric tackles this too. This is probably the least serious example but still can be a problem sometimes. This is S2 Ep 19 when an Eggman robot Clone tries to break Team Sonic apart and almost succeeds too. It doesn’t have much to do with this topic but I do like how in this episode when the drama started happening, Sonic for once in his life tries to talk abohut his feelings with Tails who turned out to be Steve. Of course, he doesn’t apologize and I know this has nothing to do with this discussion, but I just thought it was a funny thing to point out. The one time Sonic tries to talk about his feelings, he gets the door slammed in his face. It’s so mean-spirited and stupid. I love Sonic Boom!

But yeah, Rise Of Lyric also shows how his stubbornness can end up with the world being at stake. Or in the case of this episode have your friends grow apart.

The Sonic Movies tackles his shortcomings perfectly. I think he's pretty impulsive in all 3 movies. Mixing his perniciousness doesn't create the greatest meal. He's younger, so that would be expected. This scene is the most recent example. Sonic as a character tends to live in the moment and here, Movie!Sonic is playing a huge role in this category. He’s not even trying to hear anyone out. He’s in a constant rage at this point and can’t think clearly. He wants revenge on Shadow so much he loses himself. His friends. His brothers are so loyal to still allow him to get the Master Emerald despite knowing he wants it for revenge. Sonic's so hurt, he loses himself and forgets what they originally were there for.

I'm sure if Sonic choose to let his feelings consume him, he probably wouldn’t have saved the world. Why? Let’s just say things would’ve went out of control without Shadow. Sonic dogged a big tangent bullet for having mercy on Shadow.

Yeah, Archie/Reboot Archie didn’t mess around either. I'd say it’s sometimes as tense and bit worse due to him having the biggest ego and ongoing trauma. I'm surprised he didn't go insane. Notice how harsh he is in these instances. He’s overly angry here. Luckily, he has a large group of friends to help him take things down a peg and reminds him how they have his back. Even when worst comes to worst (which is an understatement), his friends are able to get him out of that mindset and put him back in reality. Hunbel him to put it bluntly.

In a way, Sonic's flaws in the Archie comics make me think he feels so guilty that he pushes himself beyond his limits as a way to make up for his loudmouth. Like in other versions, he feels the need to take on more than he can physically handle. He strains his body, mind, and entire being to accomplish tasks on his own because he believes he deserves the punishment. Alternatively, he might just be exhausting himself and attempting to take on more than he can manage. It’s not surprising, really.

This panel is insane for letting Eggy make a valid point. You can tell by his ears how Sonic’s getting visibly irritated. By the end of the argument, he gets super mad and can’t even find a good quip to back himself up. Because in a way, he knows Eggman has a point. That’s how I interpret it anyway.

Game or IDW Sonic is usually in denial when it comes to being wrong. He doesn’t address the issues directly but the person who calls him out for it instead. He’s the most experienced Sonic. I know some people use “mature” but I think experience is a better term due to how he doesn’t have arcs or character growth like other characters. More so he’s used to this song and dance, so his hatred towards being wrong comes from a place of thinking he’s got everything under control. Until it bites him in the butt.

You notice in most of these Sonic’s pretty angry and isn’t the biggest fan of being told off. Even in different continuities, the guy cannot argue without not being self-aware most of the time. The funny thing is he isn’t doing it selfishly. At least not in a typical way. To me, Sonic is the least selfish character in the franchise for a good chunk of the series. He sacrifices himself, gives people more chances than they deserve, and even takes the time to stop his main goals if it means helping someone else. But the guy cannot take the time to admit he’s wrong or his morals have consequences. Not because Sonic thinks he’s better than anyone else. I don’t think Sonic sees himself in that way, but I do think he’s always in “I’ve done this thing plenty of times. As long as this thing works, I’ll keep doing it,” mode. Or in the case of Movie!Sonic, goes on instinct which is also a common part of his characterization.

Why Sonic Has This Flaw

Sonic never stops running; he charges head-first into any situation, always striving to do what's right. After all, he's the fastest thing alive. Sonic doesn't have the luxury of questioning himself or dwelling on doubts. While it's true that he has caused some issues, including in the games, he doesn't waste time feeling sorry for himself. The only times he's shown insecurity were during the Metal Virus arc, so interpret that as you wish.

This brings up another point. Crazy how much I didn’t notice, but most of the time, Sonic doesn’t like it when people disagree with him. Understandable, everyone doesn’t want to be wrong. But he takes it to the extreme at times. Like sometimes he's baffled when anyone challenges him. Sonic’s also never truly called out by the right people. I don’t mean Shadow, Espio, Knuckles, or the villains. I mean, Amy, Tails, Tangled, or other characters he’s inspired. People who look up to him. Sure, they try, but I can count on one hand how many times he actually listens. Sonic’s always so caught up in doing things his way that he disregards people who mean the most to him.

I mentioned this in my other post but he doesn't listen to Tails in Sonic 06 or Lost World, so the games count.

While Sonic often has valid points in his arguments with others, he frequently comes across as someone who needs to be right. He rarely allows others the opportunity to express their views or admits when he is wrong. This issue is often overlooked in stories where these conflicts arise, either because there isn't enough time to address them or they remain unanswered altogether. This makes sense, considering that Sonic typically doesn’t undergo character arcs canonically. However, I appreciate the presence of characters like Shadow, Knuckles, Surge, Kit, and certain Archie characters like Scurge. They serve to challenge Sonic’s morals and illustrate that he isn’t always correct. If Sonic isn’t going to evolve as a character, at least these figures can show that his sense of freedom and living by his own rules doesn’t work for everyone. They can be portrayed negatively and can challenge his viewpoints. They can be questioned. They can be challenged. Sonic isn’t always right.

His passion shows that he truly wants things to work for everyone. His stubbornness drives him to the point of frustration as he strives to help others to live according to his ideals. However, at times his approach isn’t the most effective. You can see that Sonic genuinely hates this, yet he continues to push forward to help those in need. There’s something both beautiful and heartbreaking about that.

Conclusion

What’s funny is that Sonic rarely gets angry, so you could say this could be one of his few triggers. Along with people being unjust and other such.

Overall, Sonic has good intentions but the results of those intentions are severe. None of this is to imply Sonic’s a terribly written character. It’s just a serious flaw he has. Though listening to his friends more would help.

I’d be lying if I said I wouldn’t like a moment of his friends noticing a constant pattern of him being pertinacious and not paying attention to anyone’s protest. I wouldn’t want it to come out of nowhere, but it’d be an issue that’d progress over a large amount of time and add up. It could be dramatic or constructive depending on the situation and execution. Whatever character does it, they’d either talk to him about it or physically show the outcomes of his actions. They do it all the time in other media but not canonically. This is just random speculation though. I don’t know if I’m in over my head but I hope someone got something out of this.

All of this is not to say Sonic never takes accountability or listens to his friends. SA1 scene with Amy, when he apologizes to Bell in IDW for being too standoffish, and plenty of other examples. Like the end of Sonic movie 3. That Sonic Boom episode where he apologized for not working with his team. And endless moments in Archie and Reboot Archie. Sonic isn’t unreasonable. Just 9 times out of 10 he can get a big head. That’s all.

Stay Creative! 💜

[thunder-opossum]

Light fury redesign! They did httyd dirty in the 3rd movie. Absolutely against the main points of the series.

I've just been thinking about making the design more loke the original older ones. I also took into consideration ✨️science✨️

Okay so what i trashed:

BRIGHT BLUE EYES??? GURL YOU CAN'T SEE WHEN UR IN THE SKY UR GONNA GET BLINDED!!

Camouflage/litteral turning invisible. No way you mutated that and evolved to such an advanced degree. It's also really dumb. Natrual camouflage is the point of furies. This means I'm also bringing back the association with lightning and electricity.

Over-feminization is OUT. I dint need to explain this one but no other dragons and femminized and it makes zero sense in a survival matter. Thye are also no longer ROUND

Far less shiny, that's helping nobody. Iridescent scales are reduced to underwings and underbelly.

-

Things I've added and taken into consideration:

Closer to Night furies, mostly occurred bc of a color mutation at first.

This specie thrives in mountains and foggy locations. Can be seen sleeping in caves or on formations that reach into the clouds.

Countershaidng cammolofloge as seen in other creatures irl like sharks and snow leopards.

They are extremely good at changing directions to stay in cloud cover.

Diverged from Night furies a long time ago. Individuals with mutated scales found hiwnti live in differing habitats. Over time furries with lighter scales became more likely to survive. White scales is ressesive to black scales. But with the lack of many fully dark Night furies this population is able to consistently stay white or gray scaled. If one partner carries no white genes, then all offspring will be as dark as the Nightfury if they don't mutate. (no light nights or whatever)

Eyes bcime more gray as to be able to see ein light environments better.

Bumpy scales match with rocks

Often smaller than Night furies, less heavy/dense

Not much human contact, few even know what they look like up close.

They started to become more apparent after many islands were blasted into ice by the alpha dragons.

-

So uh yeah I'm just gonna be playing with this one in my head because the 3rd how to train your dragon movie is a lie.

I lobe her

[crowliphale]

Icebound Crew meets Technology

Aka Crow's headcanons about old people and social media

Skrimm - has an account on most platforms, but hardly posts on any of them. Likely has a private instagram or private Twitter he uses mostly to complain or make fun of his friends. Doesn't post at all on tiktok, but knows a few too many niche references to pretend he doesn't use it. Prefers shorts or reels but ultimately doesn't doomscroll as often as you'd think.

Queenie - has an account on most platforms like Skrimm, except she does post on a few of them. Mostly her tiktok and Instagram. She posts beekeeping videos and gardening tips, and people love her for her southern charm and raunchy sense of humor. Occasionally posts a hunting video with a really clickbait-y title for fun. Has a Tumblr!

Taishen - has a personal tiktok account he never posts on, and a Serenitea account thats almost entirely managed by Mei Li at this point. In turn, he runs his Facebook like the navy, ALWAYS updating it with new blends and all the fun he's having abroad.

Barnabos - only has Facebook and Twitter, only uses Facebook to keep track of his sailing buddies and Twitter to keep track of Skrimm. Only posts to reply to people, or to post ridiculously dangerous photos of sea monsters he's fighting

Jornir - barely knows how to use his camera app. If he has any social media, it's entirely Queenie's fault, and he never posts on it himself. If you look at his gallery it's full of pictures of birds, plants, the most gorgeous candid landscape shots you've ever seen, and blurry pictures of his friends. He has 4 photos of himself in there: one stealthily taken by Queenie, one properly taken by Taishen, and two accidental selfies that he hates. Has a Tumblr... Which is again Queenie's fault

(foot note: I don't use many of these, I'm basing them on the vibes of the sites back in like 2012 lol)

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

@zepskies

After reading your comments now I'm even more excited to read the epilogue!

She's a real sweetheart, right? Writing someone who wants to work with little kids, I wanted to write a young woman who isn't without her flaws, but really embodied that kind, nurturing nature that makes for great elementary school teachers. 💗 (And the kind of inner goodness that I think Dean would find endearing too.)

I love hunter!readers, but the soft!readers really have my heart. Not that a hunter!reader couldn't be soft per say, but I just love how cutesy she is.

Buuuuut maybe he should've asked Dean if it was really ok if he pursued the reader before he stepped in. Maybe as his friend, he should've asked Dean what the hell he was doing with Lisa when the reader really needed him right now lol. Maybe that would've been the wake-up call Dean needed to get his shit together and realize he didn't really truly love Lisa. 🤔

You're so right. Benny should have asked more questions!! Benny should have had the talk with Dean and if he is Dean's best friend he should have known. It kinda makes it sadder though. But I'll bet the epilogue kinda explains that a bit too 🥰 But at the same time yes, Benny was a good guy for stepping up and stepping in.

Ahaha yes!! I knew you would catch that! Oh yeah, but that's the kind of mistake a man not used to little kids would make, I feel like 🤣

It really is. I bet that Ben/Soldier Boy would let his kid watch something too soon and then live with the consequences when he can't have sex with the reader for a month because the kid sleeps in the bed with them 🤣

I knowwww I'm sorry I almost killed Dean, but this is the first of many wake-up calls for both Dean and reader. 😭😭

Don't be sorry, near-death experiences that make people realize they love one another is the kind of angst I live for LOL

I tried to do something different with this story and make it feel more realistic, with no real "villain," except that we can hurt the people we love the most unintentionally with our actions and inaction. What we say, and sometimes more importantly, what we don't say.

It really was wonderfully realistic- all the emotions all the drama, it was beautiful! I also think that it resonates more that way- making it about the internal and external struggle with relationships rather than some big-bad to fight. Because sometimes the big-bad is the little voice inside that makes you push everything down or sometimes the big-bad is you? If that makes sense lol.

Oh you saw that, huh? 😂 Yeah, I think you remember that turned into a fun "anonymous" ask in my inbox asking why I was so "defensive" when people criticized my work. I typically have thick skin and was ready to forget the comments entirely, but when that "ask" came in it really annoyed me, not gonna lie. lol I probably should've just ignored the inbox message and deleted it, rather than spend more time and energy on replying to someone whose mind likely isn't going to be changed on how they talk to writers, regardless. 😂 I get that this AU story was "different," and messy with these relationships, but that was kind of the point. Bless you though for your thoughtful and heartwarming feedback regarding the Lisa and Benny storylines! 💗💗💗

Yeah, I'm pretty sure that happened when I was in my two weeks off period 😅 But I don't think it's so much as you not having 'thick skin' or being 'defensive'- I see it more as you being open to the criticism, but them not giving you anything constructive. If someone says 'oh that's stupid' but then don't tell you why, it becomes more about the writer than what they wrote.

But oh yeah no. The fact that they felt the need to also send in an ask criticizing you even more is just uncalled for. I don't blame you for answering it, it would have annoyed me too- especially because lately I feel like the meaner anons think they're helping writers by being super rude?

Yes exactly! The AU is "different!" It's more about the relationships and drama and miscommunication! (slightly mad at you for that last one jkjk 🤣) AU's are supposed to be different, that's literally it- alternate universe. Which is why they didn't like it, because they didn't understand it. 😬

But you're welcome! I really did enjoy it and I'll bet the epilogue is going to be amazing! 💗

IF I STAY - Part 2

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Plus-Sized!Reader

Summary: Your dream is to work with kids as an elementary school teacher. Dean is well on his way to becoming a firefighter, keeping things light and “strings unattached” as he goes. After a one-night stand you never saw coming, you and Dean are forced to deal with the consequences…and figure out if the connection between you is worth fighting for.

AN: Deep breaths Are you ready for a rollercoaster of emotions? 😘❤️

Song Inspo: “I Can’t Help Falling in Love” and “It’s Now or Never” by Elvis

Word Count: 13.1K

Tags/Warnings: Angst, pregnancy feels, hurt/comfort, fluff, time jumps and flashbacks, sexual tension, mutual pining, spice~, and an ending…

❤️‍🔥 If I Stay Masterlist

Part 2: It’s Now or Never

At the doctor’s office, Dean goes in with you for the first trimester ultrasound. There you learn that you’re going to have a boy. Tears well up in your eyes and slip down your cheeks.

Dean wears a look of amazement as he sits on the edge of your bed. He takes up your hand and squeezes gently. He tries to be a strong support, even though he also tries to hide the fear that begins to churn in his gut.

For one of the first times in his life since Sam was born, he feels the weight of responsibility pressing down on him. In a good way. In a fucking scary way.

He looks at you and sees the wonder written across your face while you watch the tiny shape of your baby on the screen. His heartbeat thwaps fast and loud in the speakers.

Dean realizes something else then; the decision you're making is changing the course of your whole damn life…and it’s his fault.

With his weekly hookup rate, in the very back shelves of his mind he knew something like this could happen, even though he thought he'd been careful. (Apparently, condoms are fragile little shits.) But here, in this white wall-to-wall room that smells like hospital antiseptic, that thwap thwap thwap of a heartbeat reverberating in his ears, the reality of this is crashing hard on his shoulders and rattling down to the base of his spine.

Despite his earlier happiness, those thoughts stay with him when you two eventually get back into his car. You have the pictures of the sonogram in your hands. You smile down at them before you put them back in your purse for safekeeping.

However, you notice Dean’s sudden melancholy as he stares out at the road. He’s started the car, but he hasn’t moved to pull out of the parking lot yet.

“Hey, you okay?” you say, resting a gentle hand on his arm.

Dean shakes his head. “Look…I’m sorry for tossing a giant friggin’ monkey wrench into your life. I know this hasn’t been easy for you.”

If possible, your heart softens even more. You slide your hand down to grasp his.

“Dean, this baby wasn’t planned, but he’s not a mistake,” you say. “I don’t regret anything.”

Dean stares back at you, incredulously. He can’t believe you could really say that to him. He doesn’t know what to say. He only knows what’s in his mind, and what he feels compelled to do in that moment.

He leans over and kisses you. It’s a firm meeting of his lips to yours and achingly familiar. But ultimately, it’s chaste. He pulls away and settles back in his seat.

When you blink your eyes back open, your expression is slack in shock.

“I’m sorry,” he says, seeming sheepish, and guilty. “I meant to say thank you. Just didn’t know any other way to say it.”

After a moment, you smile at him. It’s warm and almost shy.

Dean clears his throat, trying to ignore the way his face is heating up. He doesn’t say anything more. He just takes the wheel and shifts gears, pulling the car out of the parking lot. 

You don’t know what possesses you to bake cookies. Dozens and dozens of them, all the chocolate chip cookie recipes you can find. You’re in search of the perfect one. This will be the recipe your son will grow up on, and every time he eats them, he’ll remember how much you loved him.

And then, he’ll be ruined for any other chocolate chip cookies that try to grab his taste buds. He’ll say, Blech. Chips Ahoy? These aren’t as good as Mom makes!

…Or something like that.

Yes, these cookies have to be perfect. You’ll even write the ingredients down on a notecard and hide it away, and it’ll become your family secret recipe.

Once you feel like your cookie game is strong enough, you decide to test these babies out. You bring two dozen painstakingly baked confections to Firehouse 83, where Dean works. The man is a bottomless pit, to be sure, but you also want other people’s unbiased opinions. For science.

You park your car on the side of the road, making sure you’re not blocking the driveway where two huge fire trucks are parked. You head inside the firehouse with your big container under your arm and your purse on the other. Now at seven months into your pregnancy, you’ve gotten to the embarrassing “waddle” stage.

You’re still determined to be active though! You plan to keep working until you have the baby. Your parents live a few hours away, but you’re grateful that they want to help out as much as possible.

Even though they weren’t happy to hear about how you got pregnant, by now they've met Dean and begrudgingly admitted to liking him. He's really stepped up to the responsibility of a future father, insisting on baby-proofing your apartment, helping you shop for the essentials, and going with you to as many doctor’s appointments as he can. He’s even agreed to giving you child support payments, even though you hadn’t wanted to ask for it.

You look for him now as you enter the firehouse, trying to push the heavy glass door open with one hand.

“Here, I got you,” says a familiar baritone voice.

You’re pleasantly surprised at the man who helps you inside.

“Benny! It’s good to see you.”

“Yeah, been…a while,” he chuckles, glancing down at the swell of your belly, but he squeezes your shoulder and leans in to hug you gently.

“Dean filled you in?” you ask. You hope so. Having to explain the story to one of his own friends would be embarrassing, especially since this is the man you walked in Sam’s wedding with. It reminds you of that day, and the way you told Dean that news in a glorified closet, with shaking hands and the wrong kind of butterflies.

Thankfully, Benny nods. “That he did…but come on, I’ll show you around. And I see you’ve brought somethin’ special for us?”

He gestures at the container you're holding and offers to take it off your hands. You give it to him, grateful for the help.

“Yeah, and I want you guys to give me your honest opinion.”

Benny tosses you a wink and a smile. “That I can do.”

Your cheeks begin to warm in a blush, but the way he helps you to a comfy couch in the common room earns your smile. There are still good men left in this world, and you’re glad to know that Dean works so well with one.

“You want some coffee, or water? Think we might have some lemonade,” Benny says.

“Water would be great, thank you,” you reply, as you rub your belly. The little man has decided to kick at your liver today. “I stopped drinking coffee for the baby. ”

It's your biggest challenge, to be honest. Try wrangling a group of fifteen to twenty six-year-olds while running on green tea, the fumes of sleep deprivation, reduced bladder control, and as much vim as you can muster.

“Ah, right,” Benny nods. “My sister has two kids. She cut out coffee, pain meds, some dairy stuff. But she claimed cheesecake was all right, ‘cause it’s got cake in the name.”

You giggle. “I see no flaw in her logic.”

Down the hall of the firehouse, Dean is just coming back in from going through a set of drills. He’s still the Candidate—the freshest blood in the house—so they’ve been putting him through his paces for the past several months. He’s eager to learn and to prove himself.

His ears perk up in confusion though. Did he just hear your voice?

Why does it smell like a bakery in here?

When he rounds the corner, he sees you in the common room, smiling and giggling like a teenager at something Benny said to you while he eats a soft baked cookie right out of a Tupperware container. You must’ve brought it for the firehouse.

This cozy little scene kind of annoys Dean somehow, though he doesn’t know why. He does know that it shouldn’t.

“Hey, look who’s here,” Dean says, forcing himself to smile. It becomes easier when you look his way, your eyes brightening at his arrival.

“There you are! Come ‘ere and try these,” you say, pointing at the box Benny holds. “Tell me if our son’s going to have the best PTA mom ever.”

Dean can’t help but grin after trying a big bite of one of your cookies.

“Oh, mah Gah,” he says, holding a hand under his mouth so nothing comes crumbling out.

“Good?” you ask.

“Good friggin’ cookie,” he confirms, after he swallows. “You’re gonna have the other parents frothing at the mouth. Who’s gonna be able to compete with this?”

Benny nods in agreement. When Dean squeezes your shoulder, your sweet, happy smile makes him smile too.

She’s going to be a good mom, he thinks. He can only hope against hope that he can be the man his son needs.

Two months later, the time has finally come. Your water breaks when you’re in the middle of teaching your second graders how to spell exaggerate—and no, Joey, it’s not e-g-g-zagerate.

However, the embarrassment of him pointing out the fluid beginning to stain your slacks is swiftly cut off by your shock. Your first call is to the principal, to have her send someone to cover your class. Your next call is to Dean, telling him to meet you at the hospital.

“Why the hell did he have to bring her,” you mutter to yourself, wiping sweat from your brow. Here you are, gritting your teeth through contraction after contraction in this damn hospital bed, and Dean is outside the room talking to Lisa.

You know you have no real reason to be upset. She’s been trying her best to be your friend in recent months. Hell, she helped Eileen and your mom plan your baby shower. She even brought you flowers when she got to the hospital, but you notice how less than five minutes after she got here, she and Dean became embroiled in yet another argument. It seems to you that all they do is argue, break up for a week or two, and then get back together again.

The sex must be explosive, like the fireworks at goddamn Disney World.

But Dean eventually does come back into the room alone. His support grounds you over the next few hours. He lets you basically break his hand, all while he gives you encouragement (and stands by your shoulder, so he doesn’t see anything you’d rather him not see).

And then, your son is born. Every muscle, every cell in your body is exhausted, but the pain meds have kicked in, and you’re in that blissed out state between abject reality and being entirely entranced by the bundle in your arms. His perfect face is just there, sleeping for the moment after the nurses taught you how to breastfeed.

Dean returns to sit in the chair beside you. He gives you some water and a piece of a protein bar. You’re not that hungry, but he pointed out that you haven’t eaten since before your water broke.

“Sam and Eileen are on their way up,” he says.

You nod in reply. You’re too into your son right now to think of anything else.

Dean shakes his head in wonder as he reaches out with a tentative hand, brushing his fingers over the baby’s downy head. He was born with a little tuft of brown hair.

“Okay, down to business,” Dean says, shooting you a playful look. “I vote for Zeppelin.”

You groan. “Dean, no. Veto. I’m not naming my son after a rock band.”

“Aw, come on. It’s a badass name!”

“What about Aiden?” you suggest.

“Veto,” he snorts. You two agreed to getting five “vetos” each, but this discussion has been more like a battle of wills over the last several months.

“Okay, what about Daniel? That’s strong, classic,” you pose.

Dean considers it with a tilt of his head. “All right, that one’s a maybe.”

Again, he strokes the baby’s soft cheek. You look over at Dean with a small smile.

“You’re going to be a good dad, you know,” you tell him. It earns his gaze. Although he’s trying to stay strong, you read the hidden insecurity there, the worry and fear. You rest a hand on his arm. “You are, Dean. You’re a good man, and you’ve really stepped up these past few months. This obviously isn’t how either of us thought our lives would go, but if this had to happen with someone, I’m glad it’s you.”

Dean’s expression softens. He hesitates, but he lays a hand over yours and squeezes gently.

“Thanks,” he says.

Your eyes meet, and it’s a moment charged with something you can’t even name. It’s not the first time you’ve felt this feeling with him. It both fills your heart with warmth, and makes you ache.

Then the door opens. It’s Lisa, Sam, and Eileen. Dean’s hand slips away from yours as they all pour in to congratulate you and Dean, and of course, meet the baby. There’s a lot of soft cooing and playful shushing.

In that small chaos, your parents call to tell you that they’re finally almost here. It really sucked not having your mom with you, but your parents live far enough away that they were going to take a train and stay with you for at least a week. Their train unfortunately got delayed due to mechanical failure.

It's okay though. Getting through the past several hours has made you realize that you’re stronger and more capable than you think, and even though part of you is still scared to death, you don’t need a husband to be a good mom. You’re going to give this your all, no matter who’s beside you…

And that's no more apparent than when Dean soon has to step out again, leading Lisa out of the room. He saw how her “helpful” suggestion to have a get-together at their apartment to celebrate the baby’s birth was setting you on edge. Really, you just want to sleep for the next 24-hours and not have any more pictures of you taken.

It gets loud enough outside your hospital room that Sam and Eileen feel they have to intervene. Lisa is Eileen’s best friend, and she’s the best equipped to try and deescalate the argument from that end, while Sam deals with Dean. It’s messy, it’s irritating, and it means that even today, you can’t just have a little bit of peace.

You sigh and cradle your still nameless baby close to your chest. He’s all that matters. Already, your heart is so damn full just taking him in.

“What’s your name, my little love?” you whisper. “What am I going to write on your certificate, besides Winchester?”

“How about Benjamin,” comes a Louisiana drawl.

You perk up and smile in surprise. “Benny, hey.”

He greets you with a slightly hesitant kiss on the cheek. He’s brought the baby an adorable teddy bear, and you a beautiful bouquet of white and blue roses, along with a box of chocolates.

“It’s the assorted kind, but they’ve got plenty of the caramel ones you like,” he says, then gazes down at the baby. “Aw, he’s a little charmer. Already got more of you than Dean, that’s for sure.”

You laugh lightly at his teasing. “I don’t know about that.” You hope your son inherits Dean’s strong jaw, and his green eyes.

Benny scratches the back of his head. “Also…sorry if I’m crossing some kind of boundary here. Looks like it’s a bit of a circus outside.”

You shake your head and smile through burgeoning tears. You set the chocolates on the end table where he’s placed the flowers and the teddy bear.

“No, it’s very sweet. Thank you,” you say. You glance out the window of your room to the hallway, where the arguing between Dean, Lisa, Sam, and Eileen seems to finally be calming down. You’re so damn tired, you don’t give a crap about whatever they’re hashing out now.

You look down at your son, and despite your strong thoughts earlier, insecurity begins to creep back into your mind like inky claws.  

“How are you holding up?” Benny asks. His face is kind and concerned when he notes the change in you.

You meet him with a wobbly smile. “Honestly? I’m afraid. I know I have a lot of people who want to support me, and I’m grateful, but…I just have this terrible feeling that we’re going to end up alone, him and me.”

You look down at your son, and you have to wipe away a tear from your eye before it falls on his face.

A large, warm hand rests over yours. Your gaze raises slowly, and Benny smiles at you. He’s serious though.

“Don’t you worry about that,” he says. “You’re not gonna be alone.”

FIVE YEARS LATER... 

For all that changes, there are some things that stay the same.

Dean and Lisa are still the world’s most “off again, on again” couple you’ve ever met. Sam and Eileen are still going strong as the hardworking, driven career couple. Your son is growing more and more every day and just started kindergarten this year.

(You ultimately caved on Dean’s idea to name him Robert, as in Robert Plant, lead singer of Led Zeppelin.)

Oh, yeah, and the “you and Benny” thing? That’s been going well for two years now.

What can you say? The man is persistent, but respectfully so. He’s considerate, reliable, and always calls you when work at the firehouse has him running late.

You haven’t yet invited him to move in with you. That part you’re still hesitant on, mostly because of your son, but Benny helps you drop off Robbie at school and makes breakfast for you all whenever he stays over your apartment. Benny takes an interest in your son’s life and keeps up with all his energy, taking him to the park to run himself ragged before dinner, and helping you tuck him in at night.

Benny is a bit closed off though, the strong stoic type. He’s hard for you to get a read on, and sometimes you wonder if he’s just indulging you when you ramble on about your day or make silly jokes. Even now, sometimes you withhold the first thought that comes to your mind, hoping he doesn’t think you immature or…too much.

But Benny shows his caring in all those little things he does for you. They add up into the big things, and he makes you feel supported. He makes you feel safe.

He even helps you plan your son’s fifth birthday. Robbie wanted to go all out on a dinosaur theme; he’s been hooked on Jurassic Park ever since Benny “accidentally” let him watch it with him on one of your rare nights out with your friends.

So you set up a little party at the park by your apartment. You managed to reserve the biggest gazebo, where there are three picnic tables covered with dinosaur plates, and tablecloths, streamers in different shades of green. You even bought a big dinosaur cake—also in a radioactive green color that you hadn’t been sure about, but your son talked you into. Robbie thinks it’s awesome.

He’s running around on the playground with a few of his friends from school. Their parents (along with Sam, Eileen, and Lisa) are talking amongst themselves at one of the picnic tables while you try to figure out how to get the Bluetooth speaker to connect with your phone.

“Haha! Got it. If you're so smart, Alexa, why don't you connect on the first try?” You fist-pump the air triumphantly, just as Benny comes to your side. He wraps an arm around your waist and kisses your cheek, making you smile.

“How’s it going out there?” you ask, nodding at the kids. Plus Dean, who’s gamely been the one to keep them entertained with different games. Right now, it’s a thrilling game of Cowboys and Outlaws, where Robbie and his friends are the cowboys, and Dean is the outlaw. He’s been hiding under the slide, behind trees and other playground fixtures, while the kids have little squirt guns to pelt him with water every time they find him.

It's pretty damn cute, and you’ve been taking pictures. You smile at the sight of Dean leaping out at Robbie and the kids, catching them off guard.

“You’ll never take me alive, Sheriff!” Dean declares.

“Oh, it’s goin’,” Benny remarks with an amused shake of his head. “Still hard to believe that guy’s about to make it to Lieutenant.”

“Hahaaa, gotcha!!” Dean cackles. He’s grabbed up Robbie and yanked him over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry. Robbie screeches with laughter while his dad runs around the playground, being chased by a bunch of five-year-olds with squirt guns.

Your smile threatens to make your cheeks hurt. You know your life is…unconventional, to say the least, but Dean is a good father to your son. He’s also been working hard at his job. He just took the Lieutenant’s test, and even though Benny already occupies that position at Firehouse 83, a spot at another firehouse might open up for Dean to transfer.

“Part of me doesn’t want to,” Dean admitted to you last week, while he was working on fixing your stubborn, leaky sink. “All the guys there, they’re like family, you know?” “I understand,” you nodded. “You have to do what feels best for you, whether that’s staying where you feel comfortable, or moving up in your career somewhere else. If it doesn’t feel right, don’t do it.” He took in your advice with a slow nod. “Yeah, thanks. Guess I have to time to think about it. Lisa had other ideas.” “Of course,” you said with a smile, but it soon dropped. “Why, what did she say?” “Do what I can to move up,” he sighed. “She’s got a point. That title comes with a pay bump, one I could really use right now.” “I get that. Totally valid,” you said. “But I just think it’s important for you to be happy with it too. Especially with what you do, helping people, saving people…I’d imagine being in the right mindset for all that is important, right? Who you work with can be just as important as the money stuff.” Dean considered you with a smile. “Yeah, exactly.”

As you think about it now, you have to admit that he’s grown up a lot.

Dean has to lean against a tree to catch his breath. Am I already getting too old for this crap?

Feels kind of young to have a stitch in his side after a few rounds with these kids, but even he has his limits. Lisa comes to bring him a bottle of ice-cold water, which he appreciates. He’s tempted to dump it over his head like he does after successfully neutralizing a fire. It gets literally hot as hell under that helmet and mask and all his gear underneath.

“Need an iron lung?” Lisa teases.

“Toss in a new pair of knees, thanks,” he wheezes. He downs half the water bottle in one go, but he smiles at seeing his son keep running around with his friends. He’s just got that manic kid energy that goes on for days. But Robbie’s also smart; like Dean, he likes taking things apart and putting them back together in new and ingenious ways.

Dean hopes his son likes the new model car set that’s waiting for him on the picnic table full of presents. In fact, he’s still surprised that you didn’t go with the race car theme he suggested for the party, but apparently, Robbie’s more into dinosaurs now. Dean wishes he knew that before he bought the model car set.

He looks over and catches sight of you and Benny wrapped up in each other. He has his arm around your waist while you fiddle with something, but the way you lean over and whisper near his ear elicits a smile on Benny’s face.

Dean’s good mood diminishes.

“Well, don’t they seem cozy,” he mutters.

Lisa arches a manicured brow. “Yeah, pretty sure he’s getting ready to propose.”

That earns Dean’s attention, his head swiveling back to her in surprise.

“Really?” he asks. “Who told you that?”

“His sister,” she replies. “Meg’s in my intermediate class, remember?”

Dean nods, sipping at his water, even though he’s a bit absent in the eyes. Lisa watches him shrewdly.

“Why do you seem upset about it?” she asks. “Benny’s your friend.”

“I know,” Dean says. He doesn’t need that reminder, or the guilty twinge. It’s not like he’s done anything wrong.

“And she seems happy,” Lisa points out. “Don’t you want the mother of your kid to be with a good man who treats her right?”

He nods, trying to hide his growing annoyance. “‘Course I do. I just…I don’t know. I still don’t see them together, I guess.”

“Well, they’ve been together for like, two years.”

Again, Dean nods his acknowledgement. It’s hard for him to believe that so much time has passed already. He honestly didn’t think you and Benny would be together this long. He’d always felt a little uncomfortable with one of his best friends dating you, but you’d seemed happy about it, so he didn’t discourage it. But he’d never been very supportive, either. At least, not about your relationship.

Lisa sighs and grabs his arm, pulling him aside before he can rejoin the party.

“Listen, we need to talk about something,” she says.

Dean restrains a tired groan. “Can this wait ‘til later?”

“I think we should do this now,” she says. A hallmark Lisa-ism. She’s opinionated and strong-willed, something Dean’s always respected about her. Sometimes though, the timing is damn irritating. He doesn’t want to get into another argument with his girlfriend in public, especially not at his son’s birthday party.

“Speaking of commitment,” she says with a sigh. “I think it’s fair to say that we’ve been on a five-year rollercoaster, you and I. You know why that is?”

“I’m sure you’re gonna tell me,” Dean says, crossing his arms.

“It’s because you’re spread too thin,” she says. “Between the firehouse, construction jobs on the side…not to mention other things.”

“What? What’re you talking about?”

Lisa’s lips purse, before she pointedly gestures over at you with her eyes. “Well, for example. You’re still going to her place after your next shift to fix her fridge, right?”

“Yeah, I mean, should be pretty simple. I’ve just gotta swing by the hardware store and grab this specialty tool I ordered—”

“Dean,” Lisa deadpans. “That’s exactly the kind of thing I’m talking about.”

She heaves a deep breath, running her fingers through her long brown hair.

“I get that navigating this situation hasn’t been easy for you,” she says. “It hasn’t exactly been easy for me either, but look.”

Lisa takes his hands in hers, uncrossing his arms. “I want to get married someday. I want kids too. And I want that kind of life with you…I’m just not sure you want it with me.”

Dean expels a heavy sigh. “Lis—”

“Don’t answer me right now,” she says, but she levels him with a serious look. “You need to decide though, Dean. Five years is long enough. You should know by now if you want to be with me.”

After letting go of his hands, she softens the edges of her words with a gentle kiss on his cheek. Then she turns to join the group now gathered around the picnic table where the food is, all the kids cheering for pizza and cake.

After the party, Sam, Eileen, Lisa, and Benny pack up their cars and yours with the leftover food, party supplies, and presents. Dean helps you clean up the trash, all while keeping an eye on Robbie getting out the last of his sugar-high on the playground swing.

You shake your head tiredly, if with a fond smile. “That kid’s gonna be up all night hype on that radioactive cake.”

Dean chuckles. “You want me to take him tonight?”

“It’s okay. I think he’s going to want to play with his toys,” you reply.

“Well, he could just as easily do that at my place,” he reasons.

You consider it, but you shake your head. “Yeah, but we got him the bike. He’s probably gonna want to try it out for a few minutes before we get him cleaned up.”

“By ‘we,’ you mean you and Benny,” Dean says, his tone becoming surly. “And about that. Don’t you think a bike is something you should run by me? That’s typically a ‘dad’ kind of gift.”

You pause what you’re doing at the sound of his tone. Your brows knit together.

“Sorry, but I feel like a bike isn’t exclusively a dad thing,” you say.

“My dad got me my first bike,” Dean replies. “Spent a whole three days teaching me how to ride.”

You take a minute to think about it. You understand where Dean’s coming from, so you nod.

“Okay, I get it. You want to be there to help teach Robbie? I’m sure he’d love that.” 

Dean tosses a wadded-up ball of frosting-covered napkins and stops, letting his hands fall to his sides in frustration. He draws closer and helps you untie the balloons from the picnic table.

“Yeah, I do, but that’s not the point,” he says. “Why can’t I take him home tonight?”

You blink up at him in confusion. “Well, like I said. The bike—”

“That I should’ve gotten for him,” he snaps. “Which, let me guess, Benny picked out. Right?”

You frown at him in earnest now. “Dean, why are you getting so upset about it? It’s just a bike.”

“Well you know what, it’s not! And it’s not just the damn bike either.” He swipes a hand over his face in annoyance, a telltale sign you’ve come to read well on the man. “Look, I’m missing too much shit, all right? Like, like the dinosaur thing! And the fact that I only get him on the weekends.”

You turn toward him, trying to put a cap on your own annoyance. This isn’t the first time you two have had a conversation like this. 

“We’ve gone over this before, Dean. Your schedule at the firehouse is just too unpredictable,” you say. “Robbie needs as much stability as possible between us. But…okay, if you want to take him tonight, that’s fine. We can bring the bike over to your place and show it to him there.”

You’re trying to be as reasonable as possible, and Dean knows that. Still, anger prickles just under his skin, and he can’t help but push his luck.

“You still should’ve asked be before you got the bike in the first place,” he argues.

Your brows raise high. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

“Look, it’s not like we bought him a Honda Civic. Honestly, Dean, why are you picking a fight with me right now?” you ask. “Did you and Lisa get into it again or something?”

Dean looks away and crosses his arms, giving you all the confirmation you need.

“Yeah, that’s right,” you nod. “I saw you two over there on the playground, looked pretty heated. But do me a favor. Don’t come at me with that energy, because I’m too damn tired of it!”

When you walk away from him, Dean can’t help but stare after you. He knows he fucked that up, just as he knows that you don’t deserve him snapping at you. He’s just too irritated to admit it.

For the entire week that follows, Dean finds himself distracted. He sticks to his word and helps Benny teach his son how to ride a bike in between their shifts at the firehouse, but Dean comes home each night feeling even more frustrated and drained than before. It’s too much, knowing Benny’s slowly but surely carving out a father-figure role in Robbie’s life.

These thoughts follow Dean to work, even while he climbs up the firetruck ladder in the rain. It’s parallel to a busted utility pole that still sparks with electricity, even in this torrential downpour. His task is to get up to the top and grab a large branch that’s tangled in the lines.

Rung after rung, he climbs. His safety mask protects his eyes from the rain, but he wishes they had some mini windshield wipers to keep his vision clear of the droplets pelting him in the face.

He also can’t help thinking of you. If Lisa’s right, then Benny’s about to become a more permanent fixture in Robbie’s life, and yours. 

Okay fine. It’s not like Dean expected you to be single forever, but did you really have to get with one of his best friends? Does it really have to be Benny, who seems so natural with Robbie, and more patient than Dean, and more of a support to you and Robbie than Dean can ever be?

And then there’s Lisa’s little ultimatum. He understands why she’s frustrated with him. Honestly, he’s surprised she’s stuck around this long. He knows she’s not going to wait too much longer for him to get his act together. For him to decide, as she put it.

It’s not that he’s not sure about her, it’s just that…

Just that what? he wonders.

He manages to grab the wily tree branch and maneuver it out of the power lines. 

He just doesn’t realize that his glove doesn’t have quite enough friction on the metal side panel of the ladder. Not only does his hand slip, but he’s forced to let go of the branch while he loses his balance. The branch falls to the sidewalk, far, far down below.

“Dean!” Benny shouts in alarm.

Luckily, the truck itself breaks Dean's fall.

Holding Robbie’s hand tightly in yours is the only thing keeping you steady as you lead him through the hospital. After the receptionist had checked you both in and gave you the room number, you hastened down the hall and up to the right floor. 2005.

Robbie breaks into tears when he finally gets to see his dad, laid up though he is in his hospital bed. Your throat tightens at the sight of Dean hooked up to all those monitors. He has his arm wrapped up and fitted into a sling. He has a thick piece of gauze taped to the side of his face, covering a wide, angry abrasion, but he seems to be resting easy on his back. The bed is at an incline, with most of the overhead lights turned off.

Robbie rushes to the bed before you can stop him. He hesitantly touches Dean’s non-injured right hand. “Daddy?”

“Robbie, wait,” you say, keeping your voice quiet. You quickly go over to the bedside and grab ahold of Robbie’s shoulders, but Dean takes a deep breath. His eyelids crack open.

“Hey, buddy,” he says, attempting a smile. His voice is rough and weak, but at least he’s awake.

Robbie’s lower lip wobbles as tears fill his eyes again.

“Come ‘ere,” Dean says, a little stronger. When he reaches out to his son, the kid hops up onto the bed and buries his face into his father’s chest. Dean holds him as securely as he can, soothing his hand over the boy’s hair and pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

“It’s okay, little man. ‘M okay,” he promises. Robbie nods, but he still continues to cry.

You can’t help but do the same. Tears slip down your cheeks without your consent. Dean beckons you over too, gesturing with his chin and a slight smile. You’re more tentative in the way you sit down at the edge of his bed. You run your fingers through Robbie’s light brown hair to help reassure him. Then, you meet Dean’s gaze and lay a hand on his good shoulder. You don’t know whether you’re steadying him, or yourself.

“How do you feel?” you ask. “The hospital called me. Benny told me what happened.”

The thought reminds you to text your boyfriend. You hadn’t had a chance to tell him you made it here yet. He must be downstairs grabbing a bite to eat, because he’s the one who rode with Dean in the ambulance and has been with him for a while.

“The hospital called you?” Dean notes in slight confusion.

“Eileen told me that Sam is in court right now, so I must’ve been next on the list,” you say. He also must have taken Lisa off his emergency list the last time they broke up for almost a month. He probably forgot to update it again.

You reach out a hand to almost touch the bandage by his temple. Instead, you hesitantly hold the side of his face to see the area better. Dean closes his eyes for a moment. You can see he’s in pain. Your hand lingers on his cheek, but you know, deep down, that it shouldn’t.

Dean doesn’t stop you though. He lets out a deep breath, savoring how nice the gentle touch feels when the rest of his body feels battered to hell.

“Fell off the ladder. Was a stupid rookie move,” he explains, but when he sees that look on your face, he tries to inject a little more joking into a smile. “S’ not so bad.”

“You could’ve broken your head as well as your arm,” you say, more sharply than you mean to.

Robbie whimpers and clings tighter to Dean. You cover your mouth, as if you can trap the words back inside. You don’t want to upset your son more than he already is, so you fall silent. Another tear works its way down your cheek, but you brush it away. Dean shakes his head.

“Hey, I’m okay,” he reassures you too. He manages to smile as he pats Robbie’s back. “Right, buddy?”

The boy’s head perks up. His eyes are still shiny, but he smiles too. He’s not one to speak when he’s upset though, so he just curls up against Dean’s chest and hangs onto him. Dean rests his good arm snugly around him.

You smile and stroke Robbie’s back. Though your hand lowers, resting on Dean’s hand. You take in a deep breath to calm yourself down. Dean’s fingers curl around yours, prompting you to glance up into his eyes. The way he’s watching you is soft, grateful.

Until the door creaks open. Benny steps in with a subtle clearing of his throat. You jolt internally, and you slip your hand away from Dean’s. You offer your boyfriend a wan smile.

“Hey,” you say.

“Hey, baby.” He comes over and greets you with a kiss to the side of your head. He smiles at your son gently. “The gang’s all here.”

“Oh! Let me call Sam, and Lisa too. They still don’t know what’s going on,” you say. You get up from the bed to grab your phone out of your purse. Dean nods in agreement and thanks you, while Robbie plays with his dad's long fingers.

“How you holdin’ up, brother?” Benny asks, after you step out of the room. He settles into the chair near the foot of the bed.

“Ah, you know me. I’m like a cat. Always stick the landing,” Dean says, smiling lazily. The morphine is starting to kick in again.

Benny smirks. “Maybe you do got nine lives, the amount of close calls you like gettin’ yourself into.”

Dean’s good humor fades. He considers his son in his arms, and he shakes his head.

“Yeah, well, no more,” he says. He got a taste of what it would be like to leave his boy behind, and he’s not fucking doing it. He’s not leaving you to raise Robbie by yourself. The mere idea tears a new hole in his heart.

His eyes sting just enough that he has to blink a bit harder, swallowing past a thick well of emotion in his throat. He presses another kiss to the top of Robbie’s head. Then, Dean meets Benny’s gaze.

“Thank you,” he says, and he means it.

Benny nods.

“You got it, brother.”

When Lisa steps off the hospital elevator on the second floor, you happen to be coming out of the bathroom to fix your racoon eyes. You’ve been crying way too much. You attempt to greet Lisa with something reassuring, but she cuts you off. 

“What happened, and why didn’t the hospital call me directly?” she asks.

Her tone is cutting, and it takes you aback.

“Well, Sam and I were listed as his emergency contacts—”

“Why?” she snaps. “You’re not his wife or his girlfriend. I should’ve been listed.”

Jesus Christ. At this point, you can’t help it. You’re too tired and emotionally drained to lasso in your temper with this woman.

“Maybe if you and Dean stayed together longer than five minutes at a time, he’d put you back on the short list,” you sling back. “But the truth is, you’ve never just…been there for Dean. Not without demanding something from him.”

Lisa scoffs incredulously. “Oh, that’s fucking rich coming from you. You’re the reason he can’t commit to anything. You think your little world is the only one that matters, and you call Dean for any little thing! What, don’t you have a boyfriend to help fix your goddamn sink?” 

You open your mouth to retort, but you pause as her words seep into your mind. She might actually have a small point about that one. You realize then just how often you’ve been asking Dean for his help, not just with your apartment, but with your car, and other logistical things that usually have to with Robbie. Dean’s just such a good handyman, and you thought he genuinely liked being able to help…even though Benny did mention once or twice that he’d be just as happy to help you.

“Lisa, this is a lot more than a leaky sink. I just wanted to get here with Robbie and make sure Dean was okay,” you try to explain.

“Good. I’m glad his son was the first person Dean got to see when he woke up,” Lisa says. “But I should’ve been the second.”

She brushes past you before you can even think of what to say. You’re in a state of shock, feeling guilty, incensed, and on the verge of tears all at once.

A familiar voice calls your name, and you turn to Benny just as those tears begin to fall. He gathers you up into his arms and holds you there in the middle of the hallway.

“She shouldn’t talk to you like that, no matter how high tensions are today. I’ll talk to Dean,” Benny says. You shake your head and bury your face in his chest, clenching your fingers in his red flannel shirt. 

“No, it’s okay,” you reply, despite the sob that shudders through you. You’ve lost the will to fight.

Benny shakes his head and presses a kiss to your forehead. “It ain’t okay, baby.”

“Please, don’t bother Dean with this. Especially not right now,” you say. You take a moment to wipe your eyes and get ahold of yourself. “I’m gonna go get Robbie so Dean can rest.”

You can’t shake the feeling that Lisa is right. You do rely on Dean too much. You just don’t want to think about why that is.

Dean makes a full recovery after a few months. He never does hear about what happened in that hallway, but he knows that things need to change. 

He decides to dig out his mom’s engagement ring from a locked box of his parents’ keepsakes, though he’s still waiting on the right time for it. He and Lisa start looking at houses though, for real this time. She hires a realtor and everything. 

He’s making a firm decision, and he thinks it’s the right one. He wants to be there for his son, but he doesn’t want to keep “spreading himself too thin.” He has to figure out how to set some roots, and some boundaries with you while he’s at it. He’ll just have to come to terms with the idea that he won’t get to be there for everything. 

He has to be okay with the fact that you’ll probably marry Benny. You’ll keep making him cookies and cakes, giving him your smile and your time and your body. And Robbie will probably think of Benny as more of a father than his own Weekend Dad. 

Meanwhile, you’ve spent the past few months keeping yourself in check as well. You’ve stopped calling Dean for help whenever something breaks down in your old-ass apartment. You try to keep your conversations less about life and troubles and whatever funny thing your students did that day in class, and more focused on Robbie–strictly about his schedule and his needs.

It’s kind of painful, if you’re honest with yourself. Sam will always be one of your closest friends from college, but in the past five years, Dean has truly become your best friend. Because you’ve told him things. The things that come from sharing a child with someone, like Sunday dinners with your parents, flipping through old yearbooks and childhood pictures—and the details of day-to-day schedules and little stupid things that happen in moments between moments.

Dean also knows the deep cuts. Like being pregnant and scared and breaking down crying on the side of the road. Like sharing the deepest well of your insecurities with someone who knows your body intimately, even if just for one amazing night...a night you’ve never quite been able to put out of your mind.

However, you know that things can’t stay the same. From now on, he just needs to be your son’s father. Nothing more, nothing less. 

So today, on a crisp April 24th, you’re getting ready for a highly anticipated evening with your boyfriend. Robbie is sleeping over your parents’ house, and Benny has been planning something special for your third-year anniversary. 

You slip into your new dress, a deep emerald green, with a pair of black heels you’ve rarely worn since before you got pregnant. Come to think of it, you were wearing these the night of Sam and Eileen’s bachelor-bachelorette party. The night you…well, the night Robbie was conceived. 

You shake your head to rid yourself of those thoughts. You even consider changing. 

You’re being silly, you shake your head. They’re just shoes. 

And yet. Thinking of that time so long ago, it reminds you of a recent Sunday dinner at your parents’ house.

Two Months Ago...

Your parents live modestly, but comfortably in rural Kansas. Their ranch-style home boasts a creek in the backyard, where your dad is teaching your son how to catch minnows. Your mom is inside working on an apple pie, knowing it’s both Dean’s and Robbie’s favorite.

You and Dean have kept close to the house under the shade, sitting on a bench made more comfortable by a pair of old polyester cushions with red, faded flowers.

“How much longer do you have to wear that?” you ask Dean. He glances down at his cast-covered left arm.

“Doc says it’s about ready to come off,” he says.

You nod, allowing yourself a certain smile. “How bad are you itching to grab my mom’s garden shears and cut it off right here?”

“Woman, don’t tempt me,” he says, his lips twitching at a grin. “I’ve been eying those overgrown scissors for the past half hour.”

You laugh and take another sip of your glass. Yours holds sweet tea, while Dean’s has some of your dad’s favorite whiskey. You both raise your heads when Robbie yells across the backyard.

“I caught a minnow!”

“Good job, buddy,” Dean grins. “See if you can catch a marlin!”

“A marlin?” Robbie questions.

“Yeah, like that orange guy in Finding Nemo,” Dean calls back.

Your dad gives Dean the same wry look you do, though yours is tinged with more amusement.

“Dean, that’s a clown fish,” you say. “He’s not gonna find that in the creek.”

“Aw, shit,” he tries to quiet his laugh. “Ah well, should keep him occupied for another twenty minutes.”

You bite your lip to stifle your laughter as well. Though something else occurs to you the longer you watch your son play and explore in the creek. Your dad has the patience of a saint as he puts yet another bait worm on the hook for the kid.

“He’s starting to ask questions, you know,” you tell Dean, in a quieter voice. “‘Why aren’t you and Daddy married? Why can’t we all live together?’”

Dean's brows raise. His good humor dims when he looks over at you.

“What do you tell him?” he asks.

You take in a deep breath, considering your words now as carefully as you did with your son.

“That we care about each other a lot, as friends,” you say, meeting Dean’s eyes. “And we love Robbie very much. Nothing’s going to change that, even if you and I aren’t together like a normal mom and dad.”

Saying it like that makes your heart twinge, for more than one reason. The way Dean’s mouth twitches into a rueful smile just makes it worse, but you try your best to ignore it.

“I never thought about having to explain it to him,” he says, rubbing a hand over his mouth.

It’s that anxious tell of his again. You notice every time he does it.

“I have,” you admit. “I just didn’t know for sure what I was going to say until it was coming out of my mouth.”

Dean smirks a little. “Yeah, that sounds like you.”

You roll your eyes and sip your drink, crossing your arms as well. Dean considers you then, looking at you in a way that makes you raise a brow in question.

“What?” you ask.

“Nothing, it’s just…” He sits back against the bench and rubs his hands down his jean-clad thighs. “For the record, I did try to ask you out once.”

“What?” you scoff incredulously. “No, you’ve been with Lisa since the beginning.”

“Before Lisa,” Dean says.

He isn’t joking. He isn’t teasing. He’s serious as he stares back at you with those green eyes of his. Your brows furrow as you wrack your brain. Did he drunkenly leave you a voicemail on one of those “off again” episodes between him and Lisa? No. You know you’d remember something like that.

“It was a few weeks after the bachelor party,” Dean says. “I called you up, remember?”

Your eyes widen. Finally, that jogs your memory.

“So I just thought maybe you and I could do something again. Maybe you wanna come over my place this time.” And there it is. You deflate at his words, shoulders sagging. The "convenient booty call" proposition.

You have to laugh, shaking your head in disbelief.

“Dean, you did not ask me out,” you say. “You wanted to hook up. There’s a distinct difference.”

Dean frowns at you. “No, I was. I invited you over—”

“For essentially some Netflix and chill,” you retort.

“Hey, I offered to make you dinner,” he argues. “I didn’t say anything about hooking up.”

You pause at that. His earnest denial makes you actually think back to what you remember about that conversation on the phone.

“So I just thought maybe you and I could do something again. Maybe you wanna come over my place this time.” And there it is. You deflate at his words, shoulders sagging. The "convenient booty call" proposition. “I could make us some burgers, toss in a couple of beers and a movie night,” he adds.

You cover your lips with your fingers as you begin to realize…

“That was you asking me out?” you ask incredulously.

Dean’s brows furrow and he throws his hands up. “What? Who doesn’t like a little movie night?”

“Dean,” you huff another laugh. “You could’ve made it sound more like a date.”

“Well, ‘scuse me. Sorry I couldn’t afford the Ritz at the time,” he grumbles.

You sigh. “That’s not what I meant.”

The more you think about it, the more you just shake your head at yourself. Why did you have to overthink it, like you do everything?

“Wow,” you say, softer and more contrite. “I honestly never thought…”

“Yeah,” he says. He shifts his gaze out ahead.

You glance over at him, now more unsure of yourself. He wouldn’t have any regrets, you think. He has Lisa. As much as they go at it, they always inevitably get back together. And now you know they hired a realtor. They’re about to start making solid steps forward.

But Dean surprises you with another question.

“Do you think if…”

He doesn’t finish it, but you think you know what he’s asking. You hesitate, your fingers flexing around your glass that beads with condensation. You set the glass down beside you. 

Just as you open your mouth to reply—

“All right, pie is cooling and dinner is served!” your mom calls out. Her head pokes out of the sliding glass door to the backyard. You offer a smile, trying to hide how you jolted in your seat.

“Okay, thanks, Mom,” you nod.

You turn back to Dean, who also hesitates. His eyes meet yours, but all too soon, he locks the moment away.

Bracing his hands on his knees, he rocks to his feet and goes out to get Robbie and help your dad bring in the fishing gear.

You grab Dean’s whiskey along with your tea on your way back inside the house. You consider the amber liquid disturbed in his glass, and you down the rest yourself. The burn down your throat is a good distraction. If he asks about it, you’ll say you got the glasses confused.

You know you’ll have to leave that conversation unfinished at the foot of the bench.

Now...

Benny comes by your apartment and helps you into the passenger side of his pickup truck, like the gentleman he is. He takes you to a nice restaurant in downtown, much nicer than the usual sports bar or kid-friendly restaurant. You're very much looking forward to eating at a restaurant that doesn't feature chicken fingers or "kiddie" corn dogs.

“This is gonna be really expensive,” you whisper to him, after he hands his keys over to the valet. 

Benny squeezes your hand in his, leaning over to kiss your temple. 

“Don’t you worry about that. We both deserve a night out.” His blue eyes gleam with amusement. However, his gaze gentles, becoming more sincere. “You work hard, carin’ for everybody around you. How about you let me take care of you for once.”

Your eyes begin to water, your throat constricting with emotion. You rub his arm gratefully.

“Thank you,” you say. “You don’t know how much I appreciate that.” 

It’s always easy with Benny. Nice and simple and easy. Nice, supportive, and considerate.

Nice and safe.

That thought follows you while you and Benny walk into to the restaurant. He’s reserved great seats in the back corner, overlooking a beautiful courtyard. It’s decorated with hydrangeas and light wood dining tables, all framed with a rod iron archway as the sun begins to set just so. After holding your chair out for you before he sits himself, Benny orders a bottle of champagne to kick things off.

He turns to you with a somewhat nervous look in his eyes, like he's steeling himself. It’s uncharacteristic of Benny, who’s always so calm and charming and sure of himself. It makes a zing of anticipation run down your spine, and…a dash of fear. You don’t know why, and you don’t know how to beat the feeling down as you fidget in your seat.

He subtly clears his throat, then takes your hand. “Sweetheart, I know I’m not all that good at the words you’re supposed to say. But I can say that the past three years with you and Robbie, it’s come to mean the world to me.”

Your smile softens. He brushes his thumb over the back of your hand, encouraged by your reaction.

“So I think it’s time I made it clear where I stand, and how much I want to be the man in your life,” he says.

Your eyes begin to widen in shock, but not for the reason he thinks.

“Dean,” you gasp.

Benny’s expression slackens. “What?”

You point over his shoulder, and Benny turns to follow your line of vision. Dean and Lisa have just walked into the restaurant. They notice you pointing their way, and they both pause in surprise as well. Lisa is beautiful as usual in a slinky black dress, completely backless (something you feel you could never pull off, unless you had an invisible bra to keep the girls perked up).

Dean is…well, you’ve very rarely seen him in a suit, but charcoal gray works for him. The open collar and white buttoned-down works for him, as do the three top buttons he’s left undone, showing a tantalizing strip of tanned skin. He stares back at you like he forgot you live in the same time zone, let alone the same zip code.

“Uh, hey!” he casts out an awkward wave, before he makes his way over to you and Benny. Lisa is less than enthused.

“We shouldn’t interrupt their night,” you catch her whisper to him, but Dean doesn’t seem to hear her.

“What’s up, party people! Of all the gin joints in all the world, huh?” Dean says, a little too loudly when he thumps Benny on the back. Benny grunts, giving a bit of a forced chuckle.

“Dean,” he greets. “I think I told you about this particular gin joint. Good to see you can actually clean up once in a while.”

“Ah, you know what, this monkey suit ain’t too bad,” Dean says, pulling at his collar.

You smirk in amusement. “Yeah, I remember how much you complained about wearing a simple tie for Robbie’s Christmas pageant.”

He smirks down at you. “Hey, ties still might not be my thing, but nothing wrong with a sharp collar.”

He pops his for emphasis. You don’t know why it makes you laugh, but it does. Maybe it’s just his face and the silly, endearing expression he makes when he pouts his lips in a “blue steel.”

“So, is this just a night out, or you guys celebrating something special?” Dean asks, gesturing at the champagne bottle and your full glasses of bubbly.

Benny gives his friend a certain look. “Yeah, as a matter of fact. Today’s three years.”

He takes your hand and kisses your knuckles. You smile back at him, though you’re a bit self-conscious at the way both he and Dean, and even Lisa have their attention on you.

“We should let you guys get back to it then,” Lisa says.

Honestly, it’s a relief. You and Benny nod, wishing them a goodnight.

For some reason, you notice how Dean’s smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes. But he goes with Lisa, laying a hand on the small of her back. You force yourself to tear your eyes away from them and refocus on Benny. You take up your champagne glass and raise it in offering.

“All right, where were we?” you ask, if with a nervous trill in your belly.

Benny smiles. He takes up his glass and clinks it with yours.

Lisa nearly sighs. She and Dean are back in line at the front of the restaurant, waiting to be seated. The second time she catches Dean glancing over at the table where you and Benny sit, she shakes her head and digs into her purse for the valet card. She’s done with this.

“I think maybe we should go to a different restaurant,” she says.

That finally earns Dean’s attention, mostly confused. “What, why?”

She just gives him a long look.

He realizes that whatever her reasons are, it’s easier to just give in than to fight her on it. He’s learning when to pick his battles. Or is he just giving up?

Also, if tonight’s “the night” he thinks it is for you and Benny, maybe he doesn’t want to stick around after all. Three years, huh?

“All right, fine. Let’s go,” he agrees.

Dean and Lisa wait for the valet to bring the Impala around. The minute he gets behind the wheel and turns the key into the ignition, she changes her mind.

“Look, let’s just go home,” she says. “I don’t really feel like eating out anymore.”

Dean’s brows raise. “What? Aw, come on. We’re already dressed and everything. You look great, Lis. Just tell me where you wanna eat.”

Lisa remains firm, with a small shake of her head. “Please, Dean, just take me home.”

After a moment of indecision, Dean sighs. He revs the ignition and does as she says.

It’s only a fifteen-minute drive back to their apartment, but in that stifling silence, it seems to drag on for a small eternity. He glances at her a couple of times. Lisa has her arms crossed as she stares out the window, watching the other restaurants and mom-and-pops shops and forest trees and old houses of Lebanon, Kansas go by.

Dean counts it a blessing when they’re finally home. He walks up the few short steps up to their ground-floor apartment and unlocks the door. He flicks on the lights inside, and she breezes past him to toss her purse onto the couch.

Dean takes off his blazer and begins to undo the buttons on his cuffs. He watches her all the while, knowing that a storm is brewing. She shucks off her heels and slowly paces the living room on bare feet, like her whirling thoughts are fueling every step.

“All right, I give. What’s going on?” Dean asks. “What’d I do this time?”

She pauses, with her back turned to him.

Shit, he thinks. He shouldn’t have said it like that.

He prepares for the inevitable blow up, but it never comes. Lisa just heaves a sigh. Slowly she turns, and Dean’s shocked and dismayed to see the tears welling up in her deep brown eyes. He makes quick strides toward her, but she raises a hand to keep him at bay.

“Dean, when you picture yourself happy, truly happy,” she says. “Is it with me? Can you imagine yourself marrying me? Buying the house, having kids, growing old together?”

If Dean was thrown for a loop before, he’s even more stunned by her question. “Lis…”

“Just be honest, for once,” she pleads. Her tears begin to brim over, but she blinks, somehow keeping them at bay.

It’s a bit too long before Dean realizes that he can’t give her an answer. At least, not the one he knows she wants to hear.

When he thinks of that picture in his mind, of course he sees his son. But the only other person Dean can imagine there beside him is…

“I…” He wills his mouth to work, but nothing else comes out.

The only face he can conjure is yours. Your eyes are warm and welcoming, your smile as bright and contagious as your laugh.

The only voice he can hear is yours, gentle and strong at the same time.

The only one he can see is you.

He knows the shampoo you use and the perfume you like to wear, how the sweet and floral scents mix together and linger in your hair and on your skin.

Even now he remembers the contours of your body, and how it could fit so well against his. He knows that you used to try and hide your shape under loose, baggy shirts and cargo pants that did nothing for you. He knows how much courage it took you to wear that red dress to his brother’s party, because you told him once, at one of those Sunday dinners at your parents’ house.

Come to think of it, there’s not a whole lot that Dean doesn’t know about you, except maybe what you see when you look at him.

“You love her,” Lisa finishes for him. “I think you always have.”

Dean’s throat tightens. Somehow he swallows anyway, and he shakes his head. 

“Lisa, I loved you.”

“Maybe you did, in your own way,” she says, laughing a little through her tears as she wipes them away. “But you already have a family, Dean. Go fight for it.” 

Dean doesn’t know what to say, but he knows what he can do.

He goes to her and kisses her cheek. 

“I’m so sorry,” he says. 

Lisa merely nods, wiping her face dry. She watches Dean Winchester walk out of her apartment, and out of her life for good this time. 

Dean calls your cell, but it goes to voicemail. He drives all the way back to the restaurant and doesn’t find you or Benny there. 

Dean realizes that what he’s doing, what he plans to do, is not fucking cool. He wouldn’t blame you or even Benny for being severely pissed when Dean shows up. He also knows that he can’t let another day pass where he keeps lying to you, and himself. 

He eventually finds you at home. What’s weird is that Benny’s truck isn’t in the driveway—just your car. He knocks on your door, and he waits.

He unconsciously holds his breath while he waits in that terrible existence of limbo. However, his heart thrums back to life when he hears your footsteps drawing closer to the door. Anticipation, excitement, dread, it all roils together inside him like a bad cocktail as the door swings open.

And he’s once again rendered a bit breathless at the sight of you in that dress. The color alone appeals to him, let alone the way it accentuates your every curve, from full breasts to the swell of your hips, the softer slope of your thighs, and bare toes painted. You’re fucking delectable, every curve, and a temptation without you even meaning to be. 

You’re just…you’re still so goddamn beautiful, like the night he first saw you. Even now, he can almost feel the give of your thighs under his hands, his fingers pressed to supple flesh. 

But then he’s drawn to your face, and your wide eyes full of surprise. Your mascara is a bit smudged though. Your eyes are red too, like you’ve been crying. His brows furrow in concern.

“Dean, what’re you doing here?” you ask.

“I need to talk to you, but uh…did something happen?” he asks. “You okay?”

You’re reluctant to tell him. Did Benny say something to upset you? Or was it something he did?

“Yeah, I’m okay,” you say.

Instinctively, Dean knows it’s a lie.

“This isn’t a good time though,” you say, after clearing your throat. “Can we do this tomorrow, maybe?”

Dean leans a hand on the doorframe.

“Please, it’s important,” he says. His eyes implore you harder than his words. Please.

That does it. A sigh passes through your lips, but you let him in. He knows Robbie is with your parents for the night, which actually makes this easier.

Once he steps inside the apartment, Dean does notice that your bedroom door is open. Half the drawers to your dresser are open too, and empty. Certain frames that used to be on your coffee table are no longer there, like the one of you, Benny, and Robbie on a camping trip. 

“You want some coffee, or soda?” you ask. 

Dean declines and grasps your arm before you can busy yourself into “hostess” mode. He leads you to the couch, where you both sit down together.

“What happened tonight?” he asks. “Where’s Benny?”

Your lower lip wobbles, the beginning of your telltale cry face. Dean knows his son gets it from you, and it always breaks his heart. He squeezes your arm gently, trying to ground you.

“Benny proposed to me tonight,” you confess, taking in a sharp breath. “He proposed, and I couldn’t give him an answer.” 

You shake your head as the tears sting hot in your eyes. 

“He got so upset, he just—he left!” You throw your hands up. “But honestly, I don’t blame him.”

Dean tries to comfort you as you try and fail to wipe at your face. He wraps an arm around your shoulders, cupping your cheek to brush the tears away himself. 

“Why couldn’t you answer him?” he asks. 

You look up at Dean, and you finally notice the shine of hope in his eyes. Dean touches your cheek more tenderly. 

“Does it mean I have a chance here?” he asks.

Despite what your eyes tell you, you still gape at him in shock. “What? But…what about Lisa?”

“It’s over. For good this time,” Dean shakes his head. “I realized what I wanted for my life, and where my heart is…”

And he chuckles weakly. “Truth is, you’ve had it the whole time, sweetheart.”

You begin to crumble all over again. You pull away from him and his touch, because you can’t believe it. You cover your face with your hands, sniffling as you try to make sense of his words, his touch, and the warm flutter threatening to brim happiness in your heart.

“God, Dean. You can't just..."

"I mean it," he insists.

You're still reluctant to take him seriously...no matter how much you want to. It's a conflicting realization that hurts, and makes you feel stupid for taking so long to figure it out, and makes you hate yourself for hoping his words are true.

"Come the morning, you’re going to change your mind,” you reason, without looking at him. “Like you’ve done with Lisa a thousand times.”

“No,” Dean says firmly. He shifts closer and prompts you to look at him, really look at him.

“Not about this, and you know it,” he says, catching and holding your gaze. “That’s why you couldn’t say yes to Benny. Because you know what we’ve got. It’s the real deal.”

You still look uncertain, even though you can’t bring yourself to pull away this time. Dean has always had this way of looking into the very depths of you, like he can actually see every thought as it passes through your mind.  

“I should’ve said yes,” you say. “I can rely on Benny. I know he would stay by my side, and…and I know he won’t hurt me.”

Not like I’ve just hurt him, you think. Guilt still pricks at your heart. The last thing you ever wanted to do was lead him on, and yet, that’s what you’d done, wasn’t it? You thought you had loved him. You’re sure that you did, but maybe it just wasn’t the kind of love that could reach down deep and grab you, set your blood on fire, and make you ache when the burn was gone.

That spark licks across your skin when Dean takes your hands.  

“What if I want to be that guy for you,” he says.

You allow yourself to look at him. Really look at him.

You know Dean. When he gets an idea in his head, it inhabits every bone and shred of muscle in his body. There’s no mistaking his resolve, or the steady grip of his hands over yours.

“If you let me, I’ll stay. I won’t leave you,” he says. In his eyes, there’s a firm promise. “I can be the guy you rely on. The man you can trust. The man who’s gonna love you, come whatever. Because now I know what it means. I know how it feels.”

You bite your lower lip against the smile that wants to surface.

“Are you sure?” you ask.

Dean smiles for you. “If you wanna know the truth, I’m pretty sure I’ve been loving you since the day I heard Robbie’s heartbeat for the first time.” 

Your tears flow harder at that. A shaky breath escapes you, though it does nothing to steady you. Dean strokes your cheek gently with his thumb. 

“Please, just give me this one chance,” he asks. Begs, really. 

He doesn’t have to though. You nod, just a little. 

“Okay,” you agree. “Let’s try.”

Dean's smile spreads slow, but warm across his face. It’s your favorite kind, the kind that crinkles his eyes. 

He leans in and claims your lips with his own. The passion of it is familiar, but you don't think it’s the same as five years ago. Now, there’s an underlying note of tenderness in his touch and each new way he tastes you deeper. He holds nothing back this time, and neither do you. 

Your fingers tangle in his shirt, and then in his hair as you moan into his mouth. “Dean.”

“Yeah, sweetheart?” he answers against your lips, though he doesn’t give you much room to keep talking.

You haven’t heard him call you sweetheart in a long time. You feel your heart knitting back together, stitch by stitch. Tears sting in your eyes anew, but you squeeze your eyes shut against them.

“I…”

You can’t even continue the breathless thought. You hold his face desperately between your hands, pressing your forehead to his for a moment as you both catch your breath. But this man is like the sweetest, most seductive vice. Now that you’ve gotten another hit, you can’t resist. You no longer want to.

His arms wrap around you more securely, and he leans in to lure you back into his kiss. His tongue breaches past your lips to curl along yours with tantalizing strokes. His hands slowly move down your back and along your waist.

“Mmm, missed the hell outta this,” he groans into your mouth. Your heart flutters again at the way he holds you, the way his big hands squeeze you and feel you.

You let him guide you down onto the sofa cushions. He slots himself between your bare thighs and runs his hand up familiar smooth skin, bunching the skirt of your dress higher as he goes. He aims to get himself reacquainted with every soft part of you that welcomes him back.

For once, the gates around your hearts swing free. 

Dean never imagined that his own son would hand him the ring he gives to his wife, but today, it just feels like symmetry. He grins and winks at Robbie.

“Thanks, buddy,” Dean says.

His son’s beaming grin is wide and toothy, but the boy takes his job very seriously and delivers the other ring to you. You smile brightly and caress his cheek after you take the shining, white gold band from him. It matches the thinner band that Dean has for you; it'll soon join the engagement ring that once belonged to his mother.

Robbie had liked Benny a lot, but he loves his dad. He’s probably the happiest person in the room to see his parents take each other’s hands in front of the minister. 

Benny is understandably absent in the chapel today. You had met with him after that night of your botched anniversary to apologize to him, and so had Dean. Benny understood. He’d admitted that in the back of his mind, he feared this might happen.

“I wouldn’t blame you for being angry with me,” you said to him. “You can even hate me if you want.” Benny gave you a wry, melancholy sort of smile. “Part of me’s still mad at you, I won’t lie…but there’s no use in it. Not even hating you.”

Even though Benny bowed out, carrying his hurt and his grief on those broad shoulders, letting you go meant letting go of a friend too. He put in his paperwork to transfer out of Firehouse 83.

As he’d told Dean himself that day, and in fact, the last words Benny said to him…

“There you go, Lieutenant. A spot’s just opened up.”

Dean didn’t want to get promoted this way. He felt guilty enough as it was, and not just for Benny leaving the firehouse. Benny recommended Dean to the Chief himself though, saying that if they were going to give someone a Lieutenant’s badge, it may as well be the guy who got a perfect score on his test, and had the natural leadership skills to boot.

To the end, Benny was a gentleman.

Now, Sam beckons his nephew over. Robbie quickly goes to his uncle’s side and puffs his little chest out as he stands proud behind his dad. 

Dean is able to take you in, your beautiful white dress, and everything about you that makes him smile…including the way you smile back at him.

Man and wife is all he hears. It’s all he needs to hear, before he’s pulling you closer by your newly anointed hand. He dips you for a thorough kiss in front of all your family and friends. 

You squeal in surprise, making Dean smile hard enough for his cheeks to hurt. Giggling hard enough to make you tremble, you raise a hand to caress his cheek. But you give him another real kiss after he guides you back up to your feet.

“I love you,” you whisper against his lips. The words are just for him to hear. Dean pulls back enough to see the truth shining in your eyes. Beautiful.

“Can’t help it, right?” he teases. 

You smile in amusement, but you grab his chin and shake it. 

“You got me,” you reply. “I really, really can’t.”

Your beaming smile softens. Even though the entire room is clapping and hooting and hollering in celebration, in that moment, all you really see is Dean. 

Here in his arms, you know that this is where you were meant to end up. From now on, it’s where you’re meant to be.

AN: From Lisa and Benny to Robbie and everything in between. Dean and the reader certainly aren't perfect in this, but what do you think about how their story unfolded? I truly hope you guys enjoy this one, because I've had so much fun with it. 🥰❤️❤️‍🔥

So please let me know what you thought! 😘

⋆˙⟡ Keep Reading: The Epilogue

"Shall I stay? Would it be a sin, if I can't help falling in love with you?"

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[lcriedlastnight]

a stain on the kitchen floor

○ lando norris x sportstherapist!reader

♡˗ˏ✎*ೃ˚ : w/c 1.7k. this was so fun to write actually. i'm shit at pacing that's why i haven't written a multi-part story yet so if it's bad don't tell me. also i’m too lazy to proofread these days.

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

"i know it's totally normal in the world on formula one, but to me? i think it's crazy. i wouldn't be able to switch up my emotions and feelings like that with some of my closest friends." lando looks over at her from his chair, eyes awfully bright for what was what she considered one of their more heavier sessions.

lando didn't know how he had gotten himself into this situation... well he did, he was just so embarrassed about it! it's not like he would know that her pretty eyes and soothing voice would be just the thing he need to see and hear first thing on a monday morning - especially after a race weekend. it didn't even need to be a bad weekend for him to want to see her and talk you through the weekend from his point of view. when lando realised that, he realised that he fancied her.

forcing himself to zone back in, (he felt bad for always zoning out during sessions. she thought that his mind must've been a battle field but in reality he just couldn't concentrate with her around him, caring words flying around his head and making himself believe that she wasn't asking because it was her job but because her genuinely cared about his mental well-being.) his eyes jump back onto her figure sitting on the chair across from him.

"it's like you said, i'm used to it. we all are." lando shrugs, something he felt like he did a lot in these short ten minute sessions. it has her sighing again before jotting something down again in her little pink notebook.

"lando, i've told you before, you need to stop shugging things like this off. i can tell it bothers you so just tell me how it makes you feel." she tells the boy, a little annoyed but in a second any trace of it is gone and she's back to her usual upbeat self. lando's heart stutters at her words. simp.

"it is a little hard sometimes, but it comes with the job. you gotta be mentally strong to do this too." lando explains like to her like they haven't already had the exact same conversation a few sessions ago. all she does is nod her head, appreciating that he was trying to open up and let her in. before she could dig any deeper though, her timer went off, signalling that their ten minutes were up. lando groans. loudly.

"why're you annoyed? you hate talking about your feelings." she points out and it has the driver turning red and stuttering out some bullshit answer. if she hadn't noticed his little crush by now then lando thinks he might have to tell zak to find someone a little better.

★・・・・・・★

much to zak and oscar’s surprise lando had been attending the sessions weekly, arriving earlier than he ever had in his entire career at mclaren. this didn’t make much sense to them but who were they to judge? at least lando was finally talking about his feelings, regularly, to someone who could help him process them correctly.

oscar always went second every monday. he would watch as lando skipped out of the room, gracing him with one of those cheesy smiles that he was famous for. sometimes oscar forgot about lando’s hesitance the first day because there was no way she was this good to make him switch from being therapy’s number one hater to its biggest fan. she hadn’t even been here a month yet!

oscar was seeing the same girl and he, in the nicest way possible, did not think she was anything special. she was just a girl who tried to get to cold at steel drivers to talk about their emotions. easy enough right? oscar was starting to think that she had maybe coaxed this good attitude towards therapy out of him some way but his mind was quickly changed just before their third ever session with her. it was the most put together oscar had even seen lando on a monday morning, ever! it was like he was doing a paddock walk. that’s when oscar realised that maybe lando’s excitement towards these sessions wasn’t getting to talk about his feelings but maybe because he was talking to her. not to blow smoke up his own arse but oscar wasn’t stupid.

★・・・・・・★

the session after jeddah was particularly difficult for her. in her entire time with lando it hadn’t been too difficult to get him to speak out about how the previous race had gone but as they got further into the season, she noticed every time how it was a little bit harder each time to get him to open up to her.

“lando?” she says softly. they had been sitting in silence for half the session. this had been their worst one yet. she had no idea why this was hurting her so much, maybe she was just too empathetic and felt whatever pain lando had felt.

lando stays silent but looks up at her with so much hurt in his eyes it makes her avoid his gaze as for the first time with lando, she felt a little uncomfortable. it was literally her job to comfort people when they were struggling so why was this time so fucking difficult?

“the session is nearly finished.” is all she can say.

“right.” lando nods.

“i know this was a harder session today but i’m proud of you, you didn’t even need to show up and you did which shows so much progress from our first one.” her words were filled with a sincerity lando hadn’t heard in a long while.

“can i ask you for something?” lando asks. the most he’s spoken this session, she jumps at the opportunity to help him feel even the slightest bit better.

“of course, that’s what i’m here for.”

lando hesitates for. few beats before he’s standing up from his chair and walking towards hers.

“can i have a hug?”

she’s taken aback but she doesn’t let it show as she opens her arms without hesitation. this may be a little unprofessional but that was the last thing she was thinking of right now. if this what was going to make him feel better then she would hug him until her arms went numb. that’s not unprofessional though! it’s just because she wants to help all of her patients. she would do the same for oscar…

lando lets himself relax for the first time since saturday. he lets himself breathe in her perfume and what he thinks is some kind of flowery shampoo. the mix of the two makes him lightheaded in the best way possible.

“i’m sorry for not saying anything.” lando breaks the silence first.

“you don’t have to apologise. i’m here for you no matter what you want to do. i’ve already told you that we don’t even have to talk about it if you don’t want to.” she comforts, hand now running up and down his back in a soft trail of warmth.

“i do want to. it’s just.. hard to break habit i guess. and now we don’t have any time to.” lando confesses, her heart simultaneously bursting with pride and hurt.

“i’m sure oscar wouldn’t mind if we push his session back for this week.” she offers.

lando moves his head from on top of hers in surprise.

“really? you would do that for me?”

she doesn’t answer, instead heading to the door to ask the aussie sitting outside waiting for her. this is professional, all she wants is for lando to get his feelings out.

once lando rants and gets out every single thought and feeling he had over the weekend and she offers her best advice, she tells him something that she hopes sticks with him for the rest of the season.

“we both know that you are capable of this. you are a world class driver in an amazing car that we know you can drive i just don’t want your downfall to be your mind. it’s amazing but you let it hurt you too much. don't let your mind make you feel like you aren't worthy of this. you aren't just a stain on someone's kitchen floor, okay?"

lando only nods in understanding before standing from the chair again, you rise again to stand beside him. instead if asking this time, he just pulls you into another hug, this one feels tighter than the last but you don’t complain. no, you smile into it and weirdly repress the urge to press a kiss on his shoulder. okay, that’s not at all professional.

★・・・・・・★

later on, before the workday for her ends, she finds herself reaching for her notebook. she didn't write down everything he said, she would be there all day with the way he spoke to her these days. it was just things that she felt she would want to circle back on in later sessions, she did it with every client she has, oscar's notes sat a little emptier a divider away. but there was something different about lando's notes that she didn't even realise that she had done until she was reviewing after that session.

she flicks to the divider with his name on it and gets to today's notes.

likes to unwind after race by watching an adam sandler film.

okay, that's still on the professional side. nothing too wrong with that, it's good to have fun and easy ways to decompress, especially as an f1 driver, she tells herself.

doesn't like sushi.

that's... not professional but not weird to write down? she questions herself in her head. she remembers the conversation in her head and can't help the smile that creeps up onto her face at the memory. she should not be smiling right now but that small smile turns into a full on beaming grin as what she had wrote next.

smells like that one cologne from armani.

she can't even remember writing that. her smile drops in seconds, thinking that this was getting creepy. why had she written that? she was going to have to start paying more attention to what she was writing in her sessions with lando. she seemed like a fucking stalker.

she snaps the book shut and shoves it back in it's drawer. it's like this was the push she needed to get moving and get home. she gathers her stuff from her 'temporary' office and throws on her coat, it was getting warmer woking but not warm enough to forgo a jacket of some sort. as she was walking out to the car park she passed by the trophy cabinet and about a million pictures of lando smiling.

she had to get a grip.

[peechglaze]

"Dina pointing a gun at Ellie makes no sense-"

SHE IS PREGNANT!! SHE HAS NO IDEA IMMUNITY EXISTS!!

There are so many other factors that go into this, but can you blame a pregnant woman who just watched the woman she loves get bit right in front of her own face for being cautious? These aren't spores. This is the most infected you can get. As far as Dina is concerned, this is it for Ellie because why would there ever be any other outcome?

She wasn't doing it to be cold and unkind. She was begging for Ellie to make it easier for her.

"Please don't. Please don't make this any harder than it has to be."

She didn't want to see Ellie turn. She didn't want to remember Ellie as sickly, or infected, or like the creatures that crawl around outside. Yes, infection doesn't take hold of you immediately, but why would she prolong either of their suffering?

Dina also talked about how she imagined this life where her and Ellie raise this kid together, where they're a family. Ellie getting bit shattered that.

The look on her face, how she looked at Ellie and took in the situation was devastating. She was already thinking about how Ellie is gone, she is pregnant and she is going to be alone. She was going to be alone and pregnant and in the middle of Seattle with the WLF right outside and the Seraphites who knows where.

I don't think I could ever blame Dina for holding that gun to Ellie because what an awful and terrifying situation to be in.