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dianawinchester03 · 23 hours ago

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Season 3, Episode 9 - Malleus Maleficarum

Series Masterlist

Author’s Note: Hi beauties!!! Okay beware, this is gonna be a long note that is just about me. You don’t need to read, this is just my way of connecting with you my besties❤️

So, random life updates. I’ve started going to the gym and this new diet. Now, at the back of my mind, I can hear Dean’s disappointment. “Damn princess, didn’t think you’d pull a Sammy on me with this rabbit food diet” IM SORRY BABE IM TRYNA LOSE WEIGHT CUZ IM A HEAVY FUCK😭😭😭not to mention, my scoliosis was killing me so the workouts have been helping.

Things haven’t been the best at home with my mom, mind you I’m a 21 year old grown ass woman and I still struggle with parental issues. How? IDFK💀😭 (sorry I always find humor in the weirdest fucking situations— that’s my Dean side showing lol) I still see myself as a kid and then I remember “HO, you is an ADULT” so I try to work around it.

My schedule was totally fucked, my sleep schedule was totally fucked and I wasn’t taking care of myself the way I should’ve been which is why I decided to put myself first for the first time in my life. I’ve been getting guilted for it but FUCK THAT😂😂😂

All in all, since then, my mental health has been getting better slowly but surely. Everything hurts physically, don’t get me wrong. I feel like I’ve been thrown into the air and tossed around like a goddamn rag doll BUT ya girl is turning into an almond mom and thriving XD (jkjk, god I miss cheeseburgers and cookies. And roti ugggghhh💔)

Besides the point, hope you guys like this one!!❤️

Warnings: smut, phone sex, masturbation (f&m) mentions of cunnlingus, mentions of sex, dirty talk, over stimulation.

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Third Person POV

Somewhere in the US

•Sometime in January 2008

The quartet was now back to a trio once more since Jo parted ways with them again to go off on her own hunt with her mother. This time, Y/N loaned Jo her bike so she was riding along with the Winchesters. Shocker, huh? Y/N fuckin’ L/N, lending someone her pride and joy???

Anyway, the three took on a hunt of their own, now in the middle of the living room to a house belonging to a recent victim who died very….strangely. Long story short, Janet Dutton’s (the victim) teeth fell out suddenly, one by one. Resulting in her untimely death. The death was not only strange but sudden.

Now, Dean was questioning Paul Dutton about his wife’s death while Sam and Y/N searched the bathroom for clues as to what happened. “She was so scared. I couldn't help, I couldn't do anything to stop it….” A grieving Paul explained to Dean as he took a deep breath. Glancing up toward the elder Winchester, who was taking notes on his little pad.

“And I've talked to the police, and I've talked to the medical examiner and no one can explain it.” Dean nodded as Paul spoke, “Well, that's why they put the call in to us Mr. Dutton.” Dean assured him as Y/N closed the door across from them, locking it so she and Sam could fully search it. “But the CDC, that's disease control, right? What do you think, it's some kind of virus?” Paul asked nervously.

“We're not ruling out anything yet. Mr. Dutton, did Janet have any enemies?” Dean asked Y/N gently rummaged through drawers and Sam searched the shelves. “I'm sorry?” Paul scoffed. “Anyone that might have a reason to hurt her?” Dean asked again, while in the bathroom, Y/N glanced over to Sam, shaking her head, indicating there was nothing there. “Wait, wh— what are you saying? That somebody poisoned her?” Paul got up from his position on the couch, his eyes filled with surprise. Dean shrugged in return.

In the bathroom, Sam sighed before his eyes landed on the sink. He placed his finger up before shuffling over to it. He crouched down to check it out, his jaw dropping when he noticed a hex bag stuffed between two pipes.

“I'm just saying we have to cover every base here.” Dean nodded, trying to hold up the stern and serious agent facade. “Well, I mean, what kind of poison? You think a person could have done this?” Paul asked bewildered.

Sam’s eyes quickly traveled back to the bag as Y/N appeared by his side, “What did you find?” She whispered, her voice soft. “Hex bag” Sam whispered back, reaching in to try to take it out from between the crease. He struggled to retrieve it, due to the small space. Y/N watched with an amused smile and tilted head and Sam fought to get the bag out.

Y/N snickered, cupping her palm over her mouth. “You okay there, little Winchester?” She teased, bending down to his level. Sam scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Stop being a smartass and get it, dude” She snorted again, kneeling down and pushing Sam aside to get the hex bag out. “Ta-da” She mused, dangling it in his face. Sam shot her his classic bitchface, but there was no heat behind it before snatching it out of her hand.

The two got up and exited the bathroom as Dean asked Paul, “Would anyone want to?” But the man shook his head, “What?! No, no, there's just no one that could've—“ He exclaimed before trailing off, almost as if he was lost in thought. Dean raised a quizzical brow at Mr. Dutton, “Mr. Dutton?” He inquired, his notebook out and ready to jot something down. Paul snapped out of his daze, looking back at Dean.

“Uh, everyone loved Janet.” He assured him but even Paul didn’t seem so sure. Dean furrowed his brows before glancing over to his brother and girlfriend. The younger hunter and psychic nodded, indicating that they were done with their investigation. Dean looked back to Paul before nodding, “Okay. Thank you very much, I think we've got everything we need. We'll get out of your way now.”

The rain drizzled above them as they walked down the porch to the Dutton residence toward the Impala, “That dude seem a little evasive to you?” Dean asked them, pointing to the house behind them with his thumb. Sam and Y/N shrugged, “I don't know I was under a sink, pulling this out.” Sam answered as he took the hex bag out of his pocket and handed it to Dean. Y/N put up a finger, “Correction, I got it out. You were struggling like a dog with a cone on its head” She taunted.

This resulted in another eye roll from Sam and a chuckle from Dean, “Bite me,” Sam shot back, “No thanks,” Y/N winked back as Dean stopped in front on the Impala to open it up, “It’s a hexbag” Y/N told him as he gagged when looking at the contents, “Awww gross.” He groaned, covering his nose. “Yeah, there are bird bones, rabbit's teeth. This cloth is probably cut from something Janet Dutton owned.” Sam explained as he pointed to it.

“So we're thinking witch?” Dean suggested as he stuffed the hexbag into Y/N’s hands. “Uh, yeah, and not some new age wicked water douser either.” She nodded, wrapping the bag back up as she and Sam followed behind Dean. “This is Old World black magic, charming. I mean, warts and all.” She grimaced, shaking her head as they approached the Impala. Dean mimicked her expression, opening the back door for her, allowing her to climb in while Sam claimed shotgun.

Dean shut her door before peeling open the drivers side, plopping in next to his brother, “I fuckin’ hate witches” He pointed out with a look of disgust, Y/N’s brows furrowed when he said this while Sam chuckled awkwardly, glancing back over at his surrogate sister as Dean rambled on. “They're always spewing their bodily fluids everywhere.” He ranted, “Pretty much” Sam muttered, frowning slightly. “It's fuckin’ creepy, you know, it's down right unsanitary.” Dean grumbled, started the ignition.

“You do know that witches are related to psychics, right?” Y/N piped up, slightly glaring at her boyfriend. Her voice was soft but still stern, her displeasure with the comments obvious. Dean’s face turned pale at her words, “What?” Sam’s lips tucked into his mouth when he saw Dean’s face fall as though he had seen a ghost, trying to stop himself from laughing.

“They’re like our older jealous black sheep cousin. Our powers come from nature, meaning they’re natural. We can still practice witchcraft but that doesn’t classify us as witches since we don’t dabble in dark arts.” She explained as she peeled off her black blazer. Dean’s face morphed into a look of guilt while Sam’s face remained in ‘don’t laugh’ mode. “Yeah Dean,” The younger Winchester said, his eyes flickering between Y/N’s and Dean’s faces.

“She’s right.” Sam confirmed and Dean exhaled deeply, “I….I didn’t mean to insult you, sweetheart. I just don’t like witches.” Dean said sincerely. Y/N snorted, shaking her head. “Me neither, they’re nasty bitches. They give us a bad rep too,” She agreed, stretching out her limb. “They do give you a bad rep,” Dean muttered, “No one is scared of psychics. Everyone’s scared of witches.” He pointed out and Y/N nodded.

“I don’t understand it. I mean, we’re pretty much the same.” She shrugged, “We both hear and see a bunch of things you normal folks don’t, we’re both hunted….we both have powers” Dean raised a brow at her, “You normal folks?” He smirked. Y/N rolled her eyes, “You know what I mean smartass.” She muttered, a smile tugging at her lips as she reached over and swatted his arm before leaning back against the window.

“Either way, someone definitely had it out for Janet Dutton and it’s most likely a witch” Sam chimed in, Dean nodded in agreement. “Yeah, someone who snuck into that house and planted the bag.” Dean sighed, “So what are we thinking, we're uh, looking for some old craggy Blair bitch in the woods.” He asked as he turned on the heat in Baby, gathering up some heat between his hands from the vents.

“No it could be anyone. Neighbor, coworker, man, woman, that's the problem, Dean, they're human, they're like everyone else.” Y/N explained. “Great. How do we find 'em?” Dean grumbled, “This wasn't random, someone in Janet Dutton's life had an ugly axe to grind. We find the motive—” Sam began, “—We find the murderer.” Dean finished his sentence in, causing Y/N to flinch.

“I swear, the way y’all talk at the same time and finish each other sentences, it’s fuckin’ creepier than witches, man” She muttered. “Shut up” Sam and Dean said in unison as Y/N gagged. The two brothers eyed each other and she shook her head in disbelief. “You just did it again you morons,” Y/N groaned and Sam snickered while Dean flashed her a wink before peeling out of the Dutton’s driveway.

Later that night, they decided to stake out and follow Paul Dutton after agreeing with Dean that he was a bit evasive. They ended up following him to a diner and into an empty dead street. Paul parked his car at the head of the street so they kept it safe and parked a few cars down. Dean and Y/N were growing bored, now playing rock, paper, scissors while Sam lounged in the backseat.

“I want to stab myself” Dean groaned when he lost again. Y/N chuckled in victory as Sam let out a breathy laugh, “Oh poor baby,” Y/N teased, as she pinched her boyfriend’s cheek, making Dean roll his eyes. “This is the worst stakeout ever, absolutely boring. He’s literally just sitting there.” Dean complained.

“Hey, you said somethin’ was up with the dude.” Y/N pointed out, as she took out her pack of cigarettes and lighter from her jacket, offering Dean one. “Don’t remind me” Dean grumbled as he pulled out a cigarette from the pack and Y/N flicked her lighter, directing the naked flame to the end of the stick. “And he’s been there for hours,” He complained as the steam rolled out between his lips.

Y/N cupped her hand over the flame to light her own cigarette. “Maybe he’s just waiting for someone?” Y/N suggested, taking a huff from her cigarette and letting the smoke trail from her parted lips before turning her body so she can lean her head backwards onto his chest. He inhaled from the cigarette, resting his chin on the top of her head before shrugging his shoulders,

“Maybe, but it’s still weird. Who just sits in an empty parking lot on a Thursday night?” Dean questioned, his hand now stroking her hair. “Serial killers.” Sam piped up from the back, his hand resting over his face as he layed across the backseat. One of his knees propped up, Y/N snorted in amusement as Dean chuckled. “You two and you’re goddamn serial killer obsession, I swear” Dean muttered.

“He’s not wrong�� Y/N agreed, taking the cigarette out her mouth and holding it in between her fingers, “There’s probably a dozen dead bodies in the trunk as we speak” She teased and Dean rolled his eyes, “Can you two shut your pieholes, and enjoy the silence without speculating?” Dean scolded, his hand swatting at her boob lightly before tucking it into the top of her shirt for comfort, wiggling his fingers between the creases of her bra.

“Jesus Christ, Dean!” Y/N exclaimed, smacking his hand away as he grinned, “What? I’m just trying to stay warm” He shot back, tucking his hand into her boob again. Thankfully, Sam didn’t see since he was texting Jo because he probably would’ve berated them for being ‘indecent in his presence’.

Y/N let out a breathy scoff, “If you want to stay warm than turn on the heat” She protested, her cheeks tinged slightly pink as he smirked. “Why would I waste Baby’s precious heat when I can just stick my hands up your shirt?” He asked with a cheeky tone and Y/N rolled her eyes, taking another huff of her cigarette before flicking the end out the window. “What a caveman” She grumbled.

Sam paused in his text, grimacing in disgust before rolling his eyes to type, ‘Angel, I love you but can you please hurry your fine ass up and get here before Dean and Y/N lick each other’ to his girlfriend.

“You know you like it” Dean teased and Y/N scoffed, “Yeah, your sweaty hands are so comfy, I love it” She mocked in a deadpan tone and Dean stuck out his bottom lip in a little pout.

Sam’s phone buzzed in his hands, ‘I doubt they’re that bad’ Jo responded, he scoffed typing away once more.

‘Oh God, don’t get me started. I’m literally three minutes away from having to gouge my eyes out and plug my ears with cotton’ He complained.

Meanwhile, Dean chuckled, burying his nose into her hair to inhale that intoxicating coconut shampoo of hers, the tobacco added to it gave him a sense of relief. Eventually, she complied and the two made conversation while Sam complained to Jo in the back.

Suddenly, Y/N noticed Paul Dutton’s car began jerking forward. Almost as if he was struggling. “Dean!” She quickly slapped Dean out of her hair, his head snapping in the direction of Paul's car. Sam rose from his seat in a whip as Dean and Y/N tossed their cigarettes out of the window and Dean started Baby’s ignition. Paul tossed himself out of his car and onto the pavement as Dean hit the gas and drove over towards him.

The brothers and Y/N quickly exited the Impala and jogged over towards Paul, who was hunched over choking on the ground. “Check the car!” Dean urgently instructed Sam, who did so immediately while he and Y/N knelt beside Paul.

His face grew red as he choked on the maggots, “Sammy!!” Y/N shouted as she frantically pounded Paul’s back. “Got it!” Sam yelled back, pulling the hex bag out of the steering column. Dean and Y/N hauled Paul to his feet, leaning him against the car as Sam lit the hex bag aflame, glowing green and blue before tossing it on the ground away from them.

Paul’s eyes widened as his throat opened back up, greedily gasping and inhaling the oxygen into his lungs. His chest heaved as he spat out the maggots from his mouth. Y/N grimaced, averting her gaze and instead watching Paul with a concerned expression. She didn’t like maggots, never has and never will. “You okay?” Dean asked, holding the man up while he panted for air.

“What the hell is happening to me?!” Paul panicked, “Someone murdered your wife and now they're trying to kill you, that's what's happening to you.” Y/N stated, matter of factly. “That's impossible! There's no way—” Paul denied as she scoffed, rolling her eyes. Dean was quick to cut him off, “Well, if we hadn't have been following you, you'd be a doornail right now. Now who wants you dead?” He demanded.

“I-uh…” Paul stuttered, “C’mon, think!” Y/N urged him, “There's a woman—uh—” Paul tried to think, “Okay, a woman? Okay.” Dean also urged him to continue as Paul’s face flushed with embarrassment. “An affair—a mistake, she was un-balanced, she was blackmailing me and I put an end to it a week ago.” He admitted. Y/N blinked rapidly, her eyes going from Paul to Dean as he described his infidelity.

“What’s her name?” Sam asked pressingly, “Wha–What could she have to do with—?” Paul stammered again and Y/N was growing tired. “Enough!” Y/N snapped, holding her hand up in a stop signal and Paul snapped his mouth shut, “Look, Jude Law. We don’t give a shit if you’re screwing the nanny. What we need to do is stop a goddamn witch. Now give us your girlfriend’s name or so god help me—“

“Fine, fine...uh–” Paul quickly relented, “Her name is Amanda Burns” With a huff, Y/N nodded, “Thank you.” He nodded in response before pulling out a pen and paper from his pocket to write down Amanda’s address. They then guided him back over to his car. “You gonna be alright?” Y/N questioned as he leaned against the door.

He nodded, “Yeah, yeah, I’ll be fine. Thank you” He assured her, Dean patted his back in farewell and they returned to Baby to head to Amanda’s home.

Not too long after, Y/N was on her knees picking the lock to Amanda’s house while Sam and Dean stood guard behind her. With a slight click, the tumblers of the lock finally gave away and she smirked in satisfaction. She pushed the door open and the three snuck inside slowly, making sure to keep their guns drawn in front of them.

Sam closed the door behind him as Dean and Y/N walked forward towards the living room. They entered the room, only to find Amanda lifeless on a glass coffee table covered in blood which was still pouring out of her wrists. Dean flicked the light on as the flames burnt in her candles, so it seemed as though she just died. “That's a curveball.” Dean commented as Sam and Y/N nodded their heads with furrowed brows.

“Yeah.” Sam muttered with a slight frown as Y/N muttered, “You’re telling me, man” They all slowly approached Amanda’s corpse as Dean gently used the barrel of his gun to lift her right arm before doing the same to her other arm. “Three per wrist, vertical. She wasn’t foolin' around.” Dean pointed out as Y/N’s eyes landed on the rotting rotisserie chicken on the floor, maggots coating its carcass.

“Yeah, looks like she was working some heavyweight evil here.” Sam confirmed as he put his gun in the back of his jeans and bent down to look at the scattered remnant of what seemed like an altar holding his nose to the smell of the burnt rotten food. “No shit, Sherlock” Y/N huffed, doing the same. Sam shot his sister his classic bitchface as a shiver ran down her spine as a fly buzz echoed in her ear, the sound reverberating in her ears.

“God, I hate those things.” She huffed, swatting it away from her face before standing back up. Dean nodded in agreement as well, “The smell isn’t much better up here.” He mumbled as the smell of decaying hit his nostrils. Y/N glanced around the room, noticing some odd items that weren’t quite right. Dean spun around, then jumped back, startled since he nearly walked into a rabbit, hanging from the ceiling, dead. “Oh god!”

Y/N cupped a hand over her mouth, her eyes darting over to Sam. The duo shared an amused gaze, Sam pushing himself to his feet as Dean ran a hand over his face to mask his fear. “Fuckin’ witches! Seriously man, come on!” He exclaimed, turning back to the duo. Their faces quickly dropped, trying to mask their amusement. “Guess we know where she got the rabbit's teeth from.” Sam reverted back to the subject in hand.

“Well, Paul sure knows how to pick 'em huh? It's like Fatal Attraction all over again.” Y/N scoffed, shifting her weight onto her other foot as she shoved both her hands in her back pockets. “Yeah.” Sam sighed, “And why does the rabbit always get screwed in the deal?!” Dean grumbled, turning back to the rabbit. He frowned, glancing down at the bowl of its blood, which was leaking from its mouth. “Poor little guy”

“You know what I don't get, guys? If she was so bent on revenge, why do this?” Sam pointed out, “Well, she got Janet Dutton, thought she finished off Paul, decided to cap herself and make it a spurned lover's hat-trick.” Dean suggested with a shrug. Sam and Y/N didn’t look too convinced however, “Maybe” Sam sighed as Y/N crouched back down, shielding her nose to get a better look at the occult pages on the floor beneath the table Amanda’s corpse laid.

“I mean, this doesn't exactly look like the TV room of a bright and stable person, you know?” Dean commented as he pocketed his gun into his inner jacket, “No, but then…” Y/N began as she reached around and pulled out another hex bag that was tucked under the table in a crease. “There’s this,” She stated as she stood up, handing it to Sam. He looked stunned before he tossed it to Dean, who caught it with ease.

“Another hexbag? Come on” Dean grumbled in distaste as he untied it and peeled it open to find similar contents of the bag they found in Janet’s bathroom. He grimaced in disgust before pelting it on the table. “Looks like we got a hit, huh? A little witch-on-witch violence?” He said as he reached for his phone in his pocket, flipping it open. “I guess.” Sam and Y/N sighed in unison while Dean dialed 9-1-1 and held his phone to his ear.

“I'd like to report a dead body, 309 Mayfair Circle.” He told the operator, pacing over to his girlfriend, “My name? Yeah, sure my name is—” He snapped his phone shut comedically with a bored expression as Y/N snickered slightly in amusement before reverting back to a serious expression. “Why are witches ganking each other?” She muttered, crossing her arms over her chest.

“I don't know, but I think maybe we got a coven on our hands.” Sam responded, “Well that’s just great ain’t it” Dean muttered sarcastically as he and Y/N ran their hands over their faces in frustration.

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Dean laid back against the headrest behind him tiredly as he sipped a glass of whiskey, glancing over at his girlfriend who sat at the small table with his laptop in front of her. “Sweetheart, we already got the names of Amanda’s friends. We’ll check ‘em out in the morning.” Dean’s voice snapped her out of her deep train of thought. “Come to bed” He urged her, patting the empty space on the bed beside them.

Y/N looked over at him for a moment before sighing and shutting the laptop. She got up from the chair with her laptop in hand and placed it on the nightstand before getting off the chair. She crawled over the bed, snuggling closer into his warm shirtless body. “Maybe I’m paranoid” She mumbled, burying her face into the crook of his neck.

Dean’s glass paused halfway to his mouth, “You’re always paranoid,” He commented with a snort, downing the rest of the brown liquid before stretching to place the empty glass next to her laptop on the nightstand. She rolled her eyes, smacking his arm playfully while he chuckled. “Shut up” She grumbled before placing her chin on his chest to peer up at him.

“I just got a bad feeling, that’s all” She sighed as her fingers trailed along the little pudge on Dean’s stomach. “If you say I ‘always get feelings’ so god help me, I’m making you sleep on the ground” She threatened with narrowed eyes but they held no heat behind them. He laughed softly, his fingers trailing through her damp hair, “No you won’t, cause you’ll miss this” He teased, giving her a cheeky grin.

His hand trailed down her body, which held his flannel over it. “Or this” He added, giving her a squeeze ass, erupting a small squeal from her lips. “Or this” He concluded, planting a kiss on her forehead. She fought the growing smirk on her face, “Yeah yeah, I’d never survive without you” She teased before playfully shoving at his chest.

He gasped dramatically, “Hey, I’m being sweet right now” He muttered, squeezing her frame in his arms. She snickered softly, “Oh, so that squeeze to my ass was you being sweet hm?” She inquired with a raised brow. He shrugged, “It was a gesture of courtesy” He responded simply.

“Such a gentleman” She mumbled sarcastically, shifting her head back down onto his chest. He let out a satisfied sigh, “Damn straight” He proclaimed proudly before placing another kiss on top of her head.

“Don’t ever let that ego get too big, Winchester”

“Too late, L/N”

“You’re ridiculous,” She scoffed, lifting her head, “But you love me.” Dean replied as a matter of factly and Y/N nodded in agreement. “Unfortunately, I do.” She responded with another scoff and he laughed once more, “Oh shut up, you know you’d be lost without me.”

Y/N’s face fell, her heart thundered in her chest when she was unconsciously reminded of his deal. “Yeah…yeah I would be” She admitted, her tone a bit croaky, her big (e/c) eyes now filled with sorrow. A sad feeling bubbled up in his chest as he saw her eyes go sad, his hand trailing up and down her back in a soothing manner. “Hey, hey...” Dean cooed gently.

“Baby I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that” He apologized, now realizing why she got all glum. She shook her head, “No, no it’s okay” She reassured him, trying to mask her feelings, not wanting him to feel guilty. She placed a kiss on the bare patch of skin on his chest.

Y/N trailed her lips up and chest slowly, peppering kisses from the base of his anti possession sigil tattoo. All the way to that sweet spot behind his ear, in an aid to diffuse and turn the situation. She refused to give up hope, no matter how hopeless it may be. She wasn’t gonna give up on her man just like that, not ever.

He tilted his head to the side, allowing her more access to his neck as he hummed in appreciation. The feeling of her lips on his skin was like heaven, a sweet drug that he craved endlessly. It was the only true heaven he knew and probably the only one he will ever know.

Author’s Note: HI so remember those warnings? Yeah they weren’t for Dean and Y/N💀 sooooo ENJOY! If you don’t wanna read the Sam x Jo smut, you could always skip it🫶

Meanwhile, in Sam’s motel room. “Yeah, we’re thinkin’ it's a coven. Gonna check out the dead witch’s friends in the morning” He said to Jo into his phone, leaning back on the wooden bed frame. One arm lazily resided as the back of his head, propping it up while the other held the phone against his ear.

“A witch coven, huh? Well that’s not good” Jo’s voice echoed into the phone, sounding rather concerned. He sighed before rubbing his free hand over his face. “Yeah, it’s a blast” Sam joked, running a hand over his light stubble. “Just be careful, okay?” She warned him, her voice suddenly going soft.

He scoffed playfully, “Angel, I can look after myself” He reassured her, a shy smile tugging at his lips. He could hear her scoff on the other line, “Yeah, I know. I’m just worried is all,” She confessed with a sigh. A sympathetic frowned formed on his face, her worrying for him always made his heart twist. “Hey, I’ll be fine” He promised her softly, “I’m with Dean and Y/N, I can’t possibly get hurt.”

Sam’s reassurance didn’t ease her nerves entirely, but she still smiled faintly. The thought of him being hurt still lingered in the back of her mind as an annoying itch. “Don't pull your puppy dog eyes on me, Winchester. I can just picture it right now” She muttered into the phone and Sam chuckled, his nose crinkling at her words.

“Oh, is that a threat?” He asked with a smirk, shifting his position on the bed. “Maybe it is” Jo shot back before a playful smile took hold of her lips. “Yeah? What are you gonna do to me, Ms. Harvelle?” He questioned slyly, pulling himself down onto the bed to lean back against his pillows. Jo’s smirk turned into a full-blown grin at the sound of his flirtation, her free hand playing with the hem of her shirt.

“You wanna know the answer to that, Mr. Winchester?” She inquired, her tone becoming more sultry. His breath got caught in his throat, his body growing hot as he felt his cock shift in his pants. “Yeah, I’d love to know” He responded, his voice low and raspy.

Jo’s breath quickened, her eyes closing for a moment as she imagined what he looked at currently. He was probably sprawled out on his back, his shirt riding up to expose a sliver of skin and his hand shoved into his jeans. “First, I’d run my hands through your hair…” She began breathlessly, biting her lip, her thighs clenching together.

“Yeah?” He inquired, his brain now filling with dirty visions that involved her and him. “Then what?” He prompted curiously, his hand now placed on his stomach, itching to move it lower. “I’d kiss you slowly, starting with your neck” She replied huskily, “and trace my way up to your lips.” Her fingers began playing with one of the buttons of her shirt mindlessly as she spoke.

Sam let out a quiet groan as his eyes fluttered closed, imagining those sweet lips of hers on him. “I like the sound of that” He murmured, his fingers now tracing slow circles on his hip bones. “I know you do” She responded cockily, licking her lips as she toyed with the buttons of the flannel she stole from him. “And then what?” He inquired once again.

”Then I’d unbutton your shirt, one by one” Sam’s hand drifted lower, now toying with the button on his jeans. “And start trailing kisses down your chest” Finally, Sam freed himself. His cock springing free from the confides of his jeans and boxers. He was quick to wrap a firm hand around his cock. “Shit” He whimpered through gritted teeth, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths.

“What’s the matter, you getting all hot and bothered, Sammy?” Jo giggled as she stuffed her hand up her shirt, toying and tweaking with a perky nipple of her. “Yeah, I am. Can you fuckin’ blame me?” Sam responded in a slightly whiny tone. The sound of Sam’s whines made her let out an unintentional moan. She brought her hand to her mouth to stifle it, not wanting him to know she was touching herself.

The small sound didn't go unnoticed, leaving Sam's eyes going wide. “Did you just...moan?” He inquired curiously, his voice filled with disbelief. A smirk found its way on his lips as he realized she was doing exactly what he was. “I— wha—” Jo stammered.

“What’s the matter, you getting all hot and bothered, angel?” He cut her off, his voice deep and gravelly while he thrusted into his hand, throwing her words back into her face. “S-shut up, Winchester” She protested, her cheeks tinged red in embarrassment, “I’m not, I’m—” He cuts her off once more, his hand quickening its pace.

“Yeah you are.” He grunted, “I swear to god I can hear it from here.” He teased, his hand moving slower as he chuckled breathlessly. “C’mon, it’s nothin’ to be ashamed of. It’s just me and you here..” He urged her, biting his lower lip. Jo didn’t need to be told twice. In a flash, her jeans were off and the tips of her fingers were coated with her very own slick as she rubbed furiously at her clit to the sounds of Sam’s desperate whimpers and dirty words.

“I swear” He groaned, his breaths becoming ragged as he quickened the pace of his hand. “I can hear how wet you are right now….” He whispered, his voice strained from the immense need for release. “S-Sam. Please…” Jo pleaded, her eyes screwed shut, her hair sprawled out across her pillow as her lips formed an “O” shape. Trying to hold back her impending orgasm, only willing to allow herself to cum at his command.

“Oh, listen to you...” He breathed, “such a desperate little thing.” He teased, his hand matching her pace, “bet you wished you were stuffed with this big fat—” he paused, his brain clouding for a second as he let out an involuntary moan as his hand sped up “—cock”

Sam’s words instantly made Jo’s walls clench around her own fingers. “Oh god, Sam” She whimpered, “I do...I do...” She confessed desperately, her heart hammering wildly in her chest, almost like it was going to burst. “Please, god, I need you.” She pleaded, her own words coming out breathy and desperate. “I bet you wish I was there, right? Wish I was pounding into that pretty little pussy”

Sam’s thumb swiped across the tip of his cock, collecting the precum leaking down to add to the extra stimulation. He brought his hand up to his mouth to collect a glob of spit before bringing it down back to his rosy tip. He groaned at the feeling, stroking his dick up and down at a quick pace and imagining it was her hand instead.

“God, I wish I was there too. I’d shove those pretty little thighs of yours open wide and lick you up, nice and slow” He let out another, “Just the way you like it.” He said huskily, letting his tongue glide across his lower lip. “Fuuuuuck” The words made Jo’s head swim, her teeth gritting in response. There was something about dirty talk that she loved so much. It made her squirm and shiver in the most pleasant ways possible.

Her imagination went wild with the thought of him on top of her, his head in between her thighs, his long tongue running over her folds. “I’m close, I’m close” She warned him, feeling fluids fully soak her fingers. Her grip on her phone tightening near her ear. “Hold off.” He growled into the phone, his voice leaving no room for questions.

“You can’t cum til I say so.” His tone was firm, leaving her whimpering at the sound of it alone. “Yes, sir” She gasped out, knowing better than to argue, especially when she was at his mercy. His grip on the base of his cock tightened as her desperate words echoed through his ears, his own climax quickly approaching, unable to hold back any longer.

“That's my good girl" he cooed, feeling his release nearing. "Now tell me what you’re doing” He ordered. “I’m lying down on my bed, my legs are spread wide open.” She replied, her breath coming out in pants. “I’m on my back.” He groaned into the receiver, the mental image of her on her back making his cock twitch. “Yeah? You all spread out for me?”

“Mhm” She nodded frantically, “I’m so soaked for you, wishing it was you playing with me instead” she whined. “Me too baby, you have no idea how much I wish I could be there with you.” He panted, his hand moving at a steady rhythm. “Keep going.” He instructed with a hint of firmness.

“I feel so empty without you in me. I wish you were here, god you would be so deep inside of me right now. I’m t-trying so hard to hold back.” She whimpered out, her head thrown back “Please, please let me cum” Jo pleaded, the desperation clear. “You know the rules. You’re not gonna cum til I say so.” He growled out, a smirk forming on his lips when she whined out in frustration. “Who’s gonna make you cum?”

“You, only you” She gasped out, her body squirming in need. Sam chuckled deeply, a cocky smile on his face. "That’s it, there it is…." Then, he felt that familiar tightness in the pit of his stomach. “Fuck, Jo!” His pace quickened, pumping at his cock furiously, chasing his own release.

She could hear his heavy panting and the sound of skin slapping skin on the other end, making her whimper even more. “I need you, Sam…please” She pleaded, the need for release almost overwhelming her. “Cum.” That singular word from Sam made Jo snap, the dam bursting in an instant as her pussy clenched around nothing.

She mewled and screamed his name relentlessly, damn near soaking her sheets with how worked up he had her. The sound of her release made Sam follow suit, his climax hitting him like a tidal wave as she continued to plead for him. Jets of his release practically spit out of his tip and dripped onto his hand and shirt as his hand slowed, trying to prolong the sensation as best he could.

The beads of his semen leaking down. "Damnit..." he cursed, his breaths ragged from the intensity of his orgasm. “God…I swear, you’ve got too much power” Jo muttered over the phone to him, her breaths shaky as she tried to regain normal respiration. Sam chuckled weakly in response, patting around his bed for the towel he had discarded from his shower earlier.

Once he found it, he picked it up then slowly sat up in his bed, his shirt clinging to his glistening chest. “Yeah, you love it though.” He teased, starting to wipe himself clean. “Are you okay, angel? I wasn’t too mean, was I?” He asked sincerely, a stark contrast to how he was just a minute ago.

“Oh hush, you know I like it when you’re rough and commanding” She reassured him, sitting up and taking one of her pillows and hugging it to her chest. He hummed in response, tossing the towel on the nightstand before laying back down on his pillows. “Don’t I know it”

____________________________________________

The next morning, Elizabeth, one of Amanda’s friends, was turning the soil of her front garden with a small trowel. Sam, Dean and Y/N walk up her driveway to question her, all decked out in their FBI suits. “You must have a green thumb.” Sam commented. Elizabeth’s head snapped up towards them from her spot where she stooped, “Excuse me?”

“Getting these herbs to grow out of season like this, quite impressive.” Y/N added as she pointed to the familiar herbs she worked with when it came to concocting her healing balms and other ‘psychic’ treatments. Usually she worked with them dried and grounded but they were easy to recognize in their natural form. Elizabeth looked at her stunned, her eyes glancing back down to her garden.

“I'm sorry, I have introduced myself first.” The psychic apologized before reaching into her jacket simultaneously with the boys to retrieve their badges, “I'm uh, Detective Bachman, this is Detective Turner and Thornton” Sam introduced himself, then Dean and Y/N, offering the alarmed brunette woman a kind smile as she pushed herself up from the ground. Dusting off her gardening gloves.

“Hi-ya” Dean greeted with a sweet smile as he and Y/N stuffed their badges back into their inner jacket pockets. “We're following up on Amanda Burns' death, going around the neighborhood and talking to neighbors and stuff like that.” Y/N explained, “But didn't she— I mean she killed herself right?” Elizabeth stammered with panicked filled eyes. “Maybe, maybe.” Sam nodded.

“We heard you were friends with the deceased, is that right?” Dean asked professionally, “Yeah, I guess so.” Elizabeth breathed out, nodding shakily. “Did you have any idea about her practices?” Y/N asked with a raised brow as she stuffed her hands into her dress pants pockets. “I'm sorry, what kind of practices?” Elizabeth blinked rapidly, “Well see, her house was littered with Satanic paraphernalia.” Sam informed her, taking note of her shaky behavior.

“A regular Black Sabbath.” Dean commented but Elizabeth shook her head, “No, the— but she was an Episcopalian.” She stammered again, “Well, then we're pretty sure she was using the wrong Bible.” Dean snorted, earning side eyes from Sam and Y/N, along with a smack to the arm by his girlfriend. Dean clutched his arm and gritted his teeth at her, grumbling under his breath while two women approached them.

“Elizabeth, you all right?” Renee, a blonde woman with mid-back length hair and bangs called out to her friend with a brown skinned woman next to her, rocking a Bob and bangs. The second Y/N laid eyes on her, she got that familiar feeling in the back of her neck. The burning rose rapidly as the two women approached them. That could’ve only meant one thing. Demon.

She hissed lightly as she cupped the back of her neck, earning a concerned look from her boyfriend. She nodded lightly, indicating she was fine. Dean's narrow eyes flickered from her and back to the women as Elizabeth responded with, “I'm fine uh Renee, these are detectives. They say Amanda was— she was practicing—” She didn’t get to finish since Renee cut her off, placing a hand on her shoulder as she and her other friend, Tammi, stood beside her.

“I'm sorry detectives; you can tell that Elizabeth is a little bit upset.” Renee interrupted in a snooty tone. “Of course, Miss ... ?” Dean said, “Missus. Renee. Van Allen.” The snooty blonde woman said slowly and emphatically, like it's significant and she's important. “Would you like me to spell it for you?” She sassed. Dean chuckled dryly, glancing over to Y/N, who already had her eyes narrowed at the woman, “No, I'll get by, thanks.” Y/N replied in an equally sassy tone.

While Sam and Dean held a smirk to themselves to hide their amusement. Renee scowled at her before returning to a faux remorseful gaze, “This Amanda business has been hard for Liz. For all of us.” She sighed, “Yeah. I mean, you think you know a person.” Tammi sighed. Y/N’s eyes snapped over to her, squinting lightly in suspicion. “Well, I guess we all have secrets don't we?” Dean replied with an equally suspicious gaze.

The women nodded with smirks, minus Elizabeth, who looked shaken. “Well, thanks, um, we'll be in touch.” Sam greeted politely as they began walking away, “Have a nice day.” Dean waved, guiding Y/N away by gripping her wrist. “Bye” Tammi said eerily, the psychic glancing over her shoulder at her. “Missus. Renee. Van. Allen” Y/N mocked the woman’s tone once they were out of earshot.

“I swear to god those chicks are like some ‘Real Housewives’ rejects, dude.” Dean complained as the three got back into the Impala. “They were pretty bitchy, that's for sure.” Y/N agreed, buckling her seatbelt while Sam looked at them with amusement, stretching his arms back out.

Later that night, Dean was driving down a country road through fog while Sam sat in the passenger's seat looking over the friend group’s recent activities and Y/N lounged in the back smoking a cigarette, all discussing the case. “Well, I'm already sold on that Elizabeth chick. Did you see that victory garden of hers? Belladonna, wolfsbane, mandrake, not to mention that little flinch she threw when we mentioned the occult.” Dean scoffed.

“Hey, you work with those herbs, right?” He asked Y/N, looking over his shoulder. Y/N nodded as she exhaled a drag of her cigarette. “Yep, not in the way she does though. I use them in my balms, ointments, tonics and all that good stuff.” She responded, taking another puff from her cigarette. Dean nodded “And those herbs she had aren't exactly the friendly sort, are they?” He inquired with a quirked brow.

“Not at all” She shook her head in confirmation with a little snort. “Well, she's definitely had a good run lately, gone up a few tax brackets, won almost too many raffles. Kinda thing a little black magic always helps with.” Sam piped up from the passenger seat, scrolling through a news article in his lap, shining a flashlight over it. “Yeah.” Dean muttered with a nod.

“I don't think she's alone either. Looks like 'MRS. Renee Van Allen' has won almost every craft contest she has entered in the past three months.” Sam added, also mocking the blonde’s snooty words as he explained, “Yeah, a regular Martha Stewart, huh? Except for the devil worship, I'm thinking that was the coven we met back there, minus one member.” Dean agreed.

“Amanda was clearly going off the reservation. What do you think, they killed her to keep up appearances?” Sam asked, “Seems like an appearance kind of crowd, don't you think?” Y/N commented with a roll of her eyes as she flicked her cigarette out the window. “Yeah.” Sam agreed with a sign, “If they killed the nut-job, should we uh, thank them or what?” Dean asked as he tilted his head, “They're working black magic too, Dean. They need to be stopped.” Sam said firmly as Y/N nodded in agreement.

Dean blinked at them surprised, “Not to mention, one of ‘em is a demon. I sensed the bitch the second she appeared, didn’t even bother to conceal herself” Y/N pointed out. Sam and Dean both turned around to look at her curiously. “When were you gonna say something?” Dean inquired, looking slightly offended.

Y/N shrugged nonchalantly, “Slipped my mind.” She responded, a sly smirk tugging at her lips. Dean rolled his eyes before looking back at the road, “Whatever. When you say ‘stopped', you mean like stopped?” He asked them wearily, his eyes flickering over to them for a split second, only to see them giving him looks in Winchesterian that said, ‘Duh Becky’

Dean was a tad bit surprised at their brutality, “They’re human, guys” He defended, “They’re murderers” Sam and Y/N shot back in unison with deadpan looks. Dean blinked but agreed nonetheless as he shrugged, “Burn, witch, burn” as he continued to drive. “So, about that demon. You think they’re getting their power from them?” Dean asked but Y/N didn’t get to respond.

The Impala suddenly started to stutter and choke up, the engine rattling, “What the fuck—” Dean muttered in shock, looking around frantically as Sam and Y/N’s brows furrowed. Baby’s headlights flicker on and then back on again on the outside as she slowly came to a stop in front of a familiar figure standing in the middle of the road with her arms crossed.

Sam and Y/N recognized the woman to be Ruby, sharing a panicked look. The two immediately hopped out of the car first with Dean following to suit, “Ruby.” Sam gasped, “Demon bitch” Y/N gritted her teeth at her as Dean narrowed his gaze at the blonde, instinctively shielding Y/N with his left arm. Ruby didn’t bother to quip back at Y/N, looking more panicked than anything else. “Sam, listen to me, there’s no time—”

“For what, what're you talking about?” Sam asked concerned, “You have to get out of town” Ruby stated urgently. “Hiya, Ruby.” Dean glared at her before fishing the Colt out from his pocket and aiming it at her, “Long time no see,” He growled, cocking the gun, “Dean!” Sam chastised him, but Dean ignored him, “I was hoping you’d show up again”

Ruby however, seemed unphased. “Point that thing somewhere else” She warned, “Hahahaha! Right.” Y/N laughed sarcastically as stood beside her man. Ruby rolled her eyes before turning to Sam, “Sam, please. Go. Get in the car and don't look back.” She pleaded warningly. “Hey blondie, we can take care of a few kitchen witches, thanks.” Dean scoffed cockily.

“I'm not talking about witches, you jackass. Witches are whores. I'm talking about who they serve.” Ruby snapped at him, “Yeah, demons. They’re getting their power from demons. We’re up to date, thanks” Y/N shot back sassily, placing her hands on her hips. “Yeah. And there's one here, now.” Ruby glared at her. “Oh, what, you mean besides you?” Dean smirked as Sam looked nervous

Ruby didn’t bother to respond, “Sam, it knows you're in town and it's gonna come after you and it's way more than you can handle.” She warned him, Y/N’s face dropped at this. “Oh come on, what is this, huh? Please tell me you're not listening to this shit!” Dean groaned. “Put a leash on your boyfriend, Y/N, if you wanna keep him.” Ruby snapped at the psychic, making her eyebrows touch the sky as Sam gulped.

“You’re not gonna do shit, bitch!” Y/N warned, her nostrils flaring as her anger got the best of her. “Dean, look, just chill out.” Sam pleaded, “No! No! She's messing with your head, God knows why, that's who they are!” Dean exclaimed, the Colt still aimed at Ruby. “Sweetie, seriously, relax” Y/N chimed in, placing her arm on her boyfriend’s bicep.

Dean quickly snapped around to her with a shocked expression, “You’re seriously siding with her on this?” He inquired, almost offended. “No, asshat, I’m just not stupid. She’s a fuckin’ demon that can kill us with a snap of her fingers. I’m not taking that chance!” Y/N retorted, narrowing her eyes at him as Sam sighed.

“I’m telling the truth!” Ruby insisted. “And I'm telling you to shut up, bitch!” Dean quipped back harshly, whipping his head back around to Ruby. “I'm sorry, why are you even a part of this conversation?!” Ruby huffed sarcastically, stepping forward, her arms crossed over her chest, “Oh, I don't know, maybe because he's my brother and she’s my girl, you black-eyed skank!” Dean retorted, standing his ground.

“Oh, right, right! You care about them so much. That's why you're checking out in a few months, leaving ‘em all alone?” That struck a nerve in Dean, his grip tightening on the Colt as Sam and Y/N gulped simultaneously. Their hearts thumping out of their chests. “Shut up…” Dean growled, shaking his head. “At least let me try and save them, since you won't be here to do it any more.”

That was it right there, “I said SHUT UP!” He fired a shot, only for Sam to push his hand upwards and away from Ruby screaming, “Dean, NO!” The brothers landed on the ground in front of Y/N’s feet, wrestling for the gun. “Knock it off! Both of you! Now damn it!” Y/N hollered as she crouched to rip them off of each other.

They both ignored her, however, too busy tussling to even heed her warning until she grew frustrated, using her power to forcefully rip Dean off of Sam. “I said, ENOUGH!!” She bellowed. Her body trembled as she pushed Dean back and Sam scuffled to his feet, letting out deep breaths to calm herself down.

Sam’s eyes darted behind her to see Ruby now gone from where she was standing, a solemn look on his face as Dean scoffed, looking at his little brother with disappointment. It was until their eyes focused on Y/N, both widening when they saw her nose beginning to bleed, her face scrunched in anger.

“Baby, you’re…” Dean trailed off as he took a small step forward, his eyes fixed on her face that was now stained with thick blood. “I’m what? Huh?” Y/N spat out, her face softening as soon as she realized what was wrong after tasting the warm metallic liquid that was dripping into her mouth from her top lip, now coating her teeth.

“Oh…” she mumbled, wiping some of the blood from her nose before it could get on her grey shirt. Sam and Dean both looked at each alarmed, watching in pure alarm as she wiped away the blood. She felt weak, her head began to throb from the sudden surge of power she had used to forcefully yank Dean off of Sam.

“C’mon, let’s get you bac—” Dean instructed immediately, approaching her with wide eyes to guide her back to the car before she could even let out a complaint. She protested anyway, “I’m fine, I swear—” She was cut off by Dean, who ignored her pleas and gently grabbed her shoulders, his grip a little too strong.

“No, you’re not. Shut up, let’s go.” He said firmly as he pulled her to their car, leaving Sam to stare around for Ruby in vain.

The trio walked into their shared motel room, Dean’s arm hooked around Y/N’s shoulder as he guided her in and switched on the light. She had old diner napkins stuffed up her nose from Dean’s glove compartment as a makeshift bandage. She still felt weak, gaining her strength back slowly but surely, “What the fuck were you thinking?” Dean chastised his little brother as he walked Y/N over to a bed.

He pushed her into the bed while Sam closed the door. “What?! What the hell was I thinking?” He exclaimed, offended, his voice going up an octave. “She's a demon, Sam. Period. All right? They want us dead, we want them dead.” Dean yelled as he turned to check the mini ice box they had stolen earlier, grabbing out a few ice cubes and placing them into a towel from his duffle.

“Oh, that's funny, I remember that demon chick in Ohio, Casey? You didn't want her dead.” Sam retorted, his concerned eyes flickering over to Y/N and back to Dean. “That was different! She wasn't stringing me along like a fish on a hook” Dean protested, walking back over to the bed where Y/N sat perched on the edge.

He knelt down in front of her, placing the towel of ice on the bridge of her nose as she sighed softly at the feeling. “Seriously, charming. I’m fi-“ Y/N tried to assure him once more but he cut her off. “Would you shut up? You’re not fine.” He chided, ignoring her eye roll as he focused on the task at hand. “No one's stringing me along!” Sam defended as Dean looked at him as though he was an idiot.

“Oh for Christ’s sake—“ Y/N groaned, handing Dean the towel with ice before standing up in front of him. “Look, I know it's dangerous, that she is dangerous. I don’t trust the bitch one second, but like it or not, she's useful.” Y/N backed Sam up, “You’re fuckin’ crazy!” Dean exclaimed in disbelief, his voice going up an octave as he looked at Y/N like she had lost her mind.

“No! We kill her before she kills us.” He snapped, his jaw clenching in frustration at the thought of even listening to Ruby as he pointed towards the door and then towards himself. “Kill her with what? The gun she fixed for us?” Sam mocked, narrowing his defiant eyes at his brother. “Whatever works.” Dean shot back with a shrug. Sam and Y/N sighed.

“Dean, if she wants us dead, all she has to do is stop saving our lives.” Sam explained as though it was obvious. Dean rolled his eyes, turning away from them, going over to the sink and turning on the water. “Look, we have to start looking at the big picture Dean, start thinking in strategies and — and moves ahead.” Sam tried to reason with his brother as he cupped his hand to collect some water, splashing it on his face.

Dean blinked rapidly as he groaned lightly, a pain striking in his stomach as he got a bit light headed. “It's not so simple, we're not – we're not just hunting anymore. We're at fuckin’ war.” Y/N added as Dean turned off the water and looked at them in the mirror above the sink, grabbing a towel to dry off his face and turned back around to them. “Are you two feeling okay?”

The duo simultaneously side-eyed him, “Why are you always asking us that?” Sam groaned as he sat on the edge of his bed. Y/N stood a few feet away from him, her hands perched on her hips. “Because you're taking advice from a demon, for starters.” He pointed to Sam. “And by the way, you seem less and less worried about offing people.” He pointed between them two. “You know, it used to eat you up inside.”

“Yeah, and what has that gotten us?” Y/N shot back, crossing her arms over her chest as she shifted her weight from one foot to another. “Nothing, but it's just what you're supposed to do, okay?” Dean retorted, “We're supposed to drive in the fuckin’ car and fuckin’ argue about this stuff. You know, you go on about the sanctity of life and all that shit.” He pointed to Sam while rubbing his stomach uncomfortably.

“And then you get all soft and try to play peacemaker, you yell at us for being knuckleheads, call us morons and then we figure it out cuz you’re right all the fuckin’ time” He groaned as he pointed to Y/N, still rubbing his stomach from the sticking pain. Sam couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle at this, “Wait, so – so you're mad because I'm starting to agree with you?” Sam chuckled.

Dean looked between his brother and girlfriend before exhaling, “No, I'm not mad, I'm— I'm— I'm worried, Sam—“ He stammered before moving over to the bed and settling on the edge. Y/N followed to suit, noticing he seemed to be in a bit of unexplained pain. “I'm worried because you guys are not acting like yourselves” He huffed as Y/N gently rubbed his back.

“Yeah, you're right, we’re not. We don't have a choice.” Y/N said gently as Sam nodded in agreement, “What is that supposed to mean?” Dean grunted, glancing over at her as he clutched his stomach. She swallowed thickly, clearing her throat as Sam looked down at his hands to stop tears from brimming in his eyes, unable to speak.

Y/N signed heavily before beginning, “Look, charming, you're leaving— right? And we gotta stay here in this shithole of a world. Alone. By ourselves. How the fuck are we gonna do that?” She shook her head, her voice small as she spoke. Dean felt an override of guilt rise in his chest, “The way I see it, if we’re gonna make it, if we’re gonna fight this war after you're gone, then I gotta change.” Sam added, his eyes glistening with unshed tears.

“Into what?” Dean asked, his brows furrowing. “Into you. I gotta be more like you.” Sam stated firmly. Dean couldn’t believe what he was hearing, he blinked rapidly as he tried to focus on what Sam was getting at but the pain in his stomach just worsened. His face tightened as he winced, hunching forward.

Y/N took notice of his mannerisms quickly, putting a hand on his shoulder again, “Are you all right?” She asked, her eyebrows furrowing, “I-I’m fine” He huffed out, not wanting to seem weak in front of his brother. “You don’t look fine,” Sam pointed out, his voice laced with concern.

Y/N placed her hand on his forehead, “You’re sweating up a storm,” She mumbled. “I’m telling you, I’m fine.” Dean grunted, swatting her hand away from his forehead with an annoyed expression. “What’s going on with you???” Sam’s worry skyrocketed as Dean rocked back and forth, “I don’t know” Dean admitted with a wince. He gasped, hunching forward again sharply.

“Oh— guys something's wrong— bunch of knives inside of me—“ He grunted, gritting his teeth. “Dean?” Sam muttered, rushing over to kneel in front of his brother as Y/N tried to stop him from falling off the bed by his side, “Son of a bitch!” He groaned, shaking ferociously. “Babe, hey.” Y/N cooed lightly as placed her hands at the sides of his jaw and he looked around rapidly.

Dean just shook his head in response, unable to find his words as the pain kept surging at different places in his abdomen. “The coven man, it's gotta be the coven.” Dean groaned out, realization dawned on him. Sam and Y/N shared a panicked look as he darted up from his spot in front of Dean and Y/N stayed with him, the hunter writhing in pain.

“Okay, okay, don’t worry. Stay with him” Sam assured him, instructing Y/N firmly as he frantically started to search the room for a hex bag. She nodded kept a firm grip on him, letting him lean his head on her shoulder while she rubbed his back comfortingly. He grunted again as the pain worsened, “What the hell are you doing?” He grunted.

Sam pulled out a drawer and dumped out its contents, quickly throwing them to the side, “Uh, checking for hex bags” He spoke quickly, rifling through the motel desk drawers hurriedly. He began opening the cupboards below the sink looking for the hex bag as Dean yelled in pain, laying back back on the bed, his face still twisted in pain.

“Dean!” Y/N exclaimed, feeling helpless as she lunged forward to help him back up. “Sammy, hurry the FUCK UP!!” Y/N shouted over her shoulder, “I’m FUCKIN’ TRYING!” Sam yelled back as he pulled things out of the cupboard, throwing them aside. Dean leant forward again falling to his knees in front of the foot of the bed, spitting out blood, choking and sputtering.

“NO!!” Y/N grabbed him, now cradling him on the floor, the hunter spewing blood all over her top in a fetal position. Sam was still looking for the hex bag, in another cupboard pulling out pillows only to find nothing, he moved to the bed while Dean was still choking on blood and spitting it out of his mouth and onto a frantic Y/N.

Sam pulled off the covers to the bed, tearing back the sheets and sliced the mattress open with his knife and still couldn’t find the hex bag. “Guys, I can’t find it!” Sam panicked, his eyes landing on his brother growing weaker and weaker in Y/N’s arms. Their eyes connected, the psychic was close to breaking down as she cradled her love, shaking her head at Sam. “I don’t know what to do..” She cried.

“No.” Sam’s gaze hardened, marching over to his bag and rummaging through it. He retrieved the Colt and opened it to make sure there were bullets in it. “Sam, what are you doing?” Dean grunted out but Sam didn’t answer, his face filled with determination as he pushed himself to the door. “Sam?!” Y/N called out to him, “Stay here!!” He shouted back firmly before exiting the room and closing the door behind him.

"Son of a--!" Dean groaned, pushing himself off of Y/N's lap, using the foot of the bed to steady himself, as he stumbled into a standing position, "We've gotta go after him—" Only to fall flat on his ass again and into Y/N’s lap once more. “Stay down, you idiot!” She chided, her hands firmly on his shoulders, trying to hold him down as he huffed in frustration, “I’m fine!” he protested, even though he was in a lot of pain and covered in blood.

The Impala sped down a dark country road with Sam at the wheel, a look of determination on his face as he gripped the steering wheel in one hand and the Colt in his other.

Elizabeth, Renee and Tammi were around a coffee table in the Van Allen residence with the altar set up, chanting. “Kihér tolic echranmuk, madan fiéré, marc oh don duer kianave—” They were interrupted when Sam kicked in the door, the wood from the frame scattering around the entrance as the women scream out of fear getting up from the altar raising their hands in surrender.

A pissed off Sam Winchester entered the room with the Colt drawn at the women, “Oh my God!” Renee squealed, “Let him go.” Sam demanded gruffly. “Let who go? What are you doing? You're insane, get out!” Renee screamed confused as they all panicked. Sam was beyond pissed and fed up at this point, “Look, if you know about me, then you know about this gun.” He waved the Colt between them.

“You're killing my brother. Now let him go. Get away from the altar.” He instructed. “What?” Renee scoffed, “NOW!!” He bellowed, “Okay…okay...” They all moved away from the altar with their hands still up as Sam kept the Colt trained on them.

Back in their motel room, Y/N was still cradling a Dean in her arms, tears streaming down her face, watching helplessly as her love coughed and sputtered blood all over her. She couldn’t give a rat's ass about her shirt at this point. All of her focus was on him, and the fact that there was nothing she could do to help him. No matter how badly she wanted to heal him, she couldn't, she was completely and utterly useless to him and the realization made her feel even worse.

"It’s okay, baby," she whispered softly, her lower lip trembling as she gently pushed his sweaty hair back from his face. “You’re gonna be okay…you’re gonna be okay…” She whispered more for herself than for him, rocking him back and forth as she gently patted his back.

He groaned softly, his breaths uneven as he lifted a shaky hand bloody to cradle her cheek. His tear filled eyes pierced hers, a pained but still comforting smile gracing his face. "I'm okay, princess... I'm okay." He reassured her weakly. But they both knew he was lying, it only made her cry harder.

She cradled his head to her chest, her grip on him tightening as she closed her eyes tight, trying to stop the tears from falling down her cheeks which were now smeared with his blood. "You have to be okay, okay?" She whispered to him, a desperate tone in her voice as she continued to rock him gently. "I've got you…I’ve got you..." She comforted, gently running her fingers through his hair, her voice shaky as she kissed the top of his head lovingly.

His breathing started to slow, making her believe he was doing better. “There he is, there’s my guy..” Her words died in her throat when she saw his eyes flutter shut. “DEAN!” She cried out, her heart shattering in her chest. Her grief was cut short when she heard footsteps approaching the door, only for it to be kicked in harshly. The culprit was revealed to be Ruby. Dean’s eyes shot open as the sound of Y/N shouting his name and the door being kicked in.

“You wanna kill me? Get in line bitch.” He spat at Ruby. Ruby rolled her eyes and marched over to Dean. She pulled him up by the collar, tossing him on the bed. “What the fuck, you bitch?!” Y/N bellowed, pushing herself up to attack the demon. Only to be kicked hard in the stomach by Ruby, landing on the floor with a heavy grunt. She then leaned over Dean and forced his mouth open with her left hand.

Dean tried to push her away as she sprayed a dark brown liquid into his mouth from a bag at her side with her right hand while Dean still struggled under her hold. Ruby stood up as Dean chokes on the liquid and spits some back out. “Stop…calling me…bitch…” She breathed heavily as Y/N groaned, winching and clutching her stomach. She was sure she had broken a rib or two.

Back in the Van Allen residence, Sam was still aiming the gun at Elizabeth, Renee and Tammi. “Go.” He demanded gruffly, pointing to the fireplace. Elizabeth, Renee and Tammi move over in front of the fireplace with their hands still up in the air. “What— we— we weren't hurting anyone.” Elizabeth pleaded, “Please, we don't even know your brother.” Renee insisted.

“Stop the spell, or die. Five seconds.” Sam narrowed his dark eyes at them, his finger hovering over the trigger. “What?!” Renee squealed as the three women shook, staring down the barrel of the gun. Sam was deadly serious, cocking the gun and pointing it back at them. “Four.”

“No, please, please don't kill us!” Renee cried, “We were just getting Renee a lower mortgage rate!” Elizabeth chimed in, looking over to her friend to back her up. Renee nodded frantically as Sam’s face twisted with confusion because the women seemed sincere but still held the gun ready.

Back in the motel room, Ruby stood in front of the couple. Y/N was helping Dean wipe his mouth with a towel, he was still clutching his stomach but he stopped coughing up the blood. The pain gone physically but mentally, Dean could still feel the knives poking at him. “Next time you point that gun at me, I'm not gonna just disappear, understand?” Ruby warned Dean before tossing the gun at Y/N.

Y/N’s eyes flickered up to her, catching the gun in one hand while eyeing the demon. “You…saved my life..” Dean said surprised, Y/N mimicking his shocked expression as she finished up wiping his mouth. “Don’t mention it.” Ruby smirked, “What was that stuff?” Y/N asked, pointing to the bag. “God it was ass.” Dean muttered with a grimace, “It tasted like ass.”

“It's called witchcraft, kitten.” With that, Ruby turned and walked out of the room, closing the door behind her and leaving Dean and Y/N on the bed, the psychic grimacing in disgust at the nickname the demon seemed to like calling her.

"Witchcraft, my ass." Dean protested with a scoff, gently rubbing his stomach."Seriously that was the nastiest crap I’ve ever tasted.” He chuckled, trying to lighten the tension by using humor. Y/N however, wasn’t amused. Still gripping the side of her ribcage where the bruising had already started from Ruby’s kick, her mind still stuck on the fact that if she hadn’t stepped in, Dean would’ve been dead.

He would’ve gone to hell way before his time. Now that he was saved, she knew damn well when his true time came. She wouldn’t know how to handle it. She was already dreading it, still clinging onto the little hope of saving him but witnessing Dean’s suffocation in real time, she felt sick to her stomach imagining what could actually happen if he went. What was going to happen if those hellhounds can for him.

He noticed the way she was staring down at the worn carpet and her hand still wrapped around her injured side. His face softened, “Hey, I’m fine…” He reassured her gently, placing a hand on her knee. “Yeah…for now” She whispered as she nodded, still unable to meet his gaze, which only made him more worried.

He gently grabbed her chin, tilting her head up to look at him, “Princess, look at me.” He murmured. Her eyes finally met his ones as sadness and frustration filled her eyes. “I’m still here.” He said softly, his thumb gently stroking her cheek. “And what’s gonna happen when you’re not?” She croaked, her face creasing.

He sighed softly, his eyes full of guilt, he moved his hands to hold her face. “Hey, don’t think like that.” He told her gently, “C’mon. I’m still here right now, right? You can’t keep worrying about what if’s—“

“It’s not an ‘if’ anymore, Dean.” She shot back firmly, “Maybe we can’t save you, just maybe we won’t be able to get you out of that stupid fuckin’ deal, then what’re we gonna do? Just let you rot in hell?” Her voice broke. He winced, hearing the raw pain in her voice, he gently wiped a stray tear from her cheek with his thumb.

“Don’t,” He told her firmly, “You can’t think like that. I’m not going anywhere, okay? You have to believe that.” He tried to convince her as he wiped her falling tears with his thumb. But he wasn’t convinced himself, “I dunno if I believe that anymore,” She sighed, shaking her head.

His face fell and his heart broke for her, he knew this was hard on her too. Maybe even harder on her than him. He pulled her closer, making her straddle his lap as he wrapped his arms around her tightly. He leaned up to press a kiss to her lips but she quickly pulled back, “No—“ She grimaced, “I love you, but I’m not kissing you when your mouth smells like ass” She gagged at the smell of the concoction Ruby squirted into his mouth.

He let out a strangled laugh, “Can’t argue with that” He chuckled, leaning his head on her shoulder as she wrapped her arms around him, holding him tightly as she buried her face in his neck.

Back in the Van Allen residence, “Okay, maybe it's not you—“ He shook slightly before turning the gun to Elizabeth. “—or you.” He points the gun at Renee this time, moving the gun again. “Maybe it's you…” He accused, pointing the gun at Tammi who sobbed, upset and scared. Sam wasn’t buying it for one second, “I don't even know what he's talking about. What a–re you even talking about?” She stammered.

“I mean, all of you, everyone in your little coven, you've all had runs of good fortune.” Sam spat with disgust, his eyes still trained on Tammi. “Newsworthy good fortune. Except for you, Tammi…” He narrowed his eyes, “Now tell me, why is that? You didn't want anything for yourself? Or is it because you're already getting what you wanted – like these women's souls.”

Renee and Elizabeth’s eyes widened with pure fear, “I can't- I-I'm not- I-I-I don't…” Tammi faux-stammered again, her act falling when Sam didn’t let up. His dark eyes unconvinced. So she sighed and put her hands down, going from looking frightened to calm. Her eyes flashed over black, revealing that she was the demon Y/N and Ruby warned him about.

“Nice dick work, Magnum.” Tammi smirked darkly. The other two women gasped audibly, looking shocked as their jaws fell. “Let. My brother. Go.” Sam commanded, gritting his teeth. “What's wrong? Couldn't find my hex bag? Sorry, sweetheart, but your brother's lungs should be on the floor by now and poor little Y/N is probably crying over his bloody corpse.” Tammi said menacingly with a nasty smile.

Sam’s eyes held pure anger, his finger finally pulling the trigger to the Colt. But the bullet didn’t hit her, since Tammi lifted her hand, slowing it. The bullet lost its momentum, stopped and fell to the floor. Elizabeth and Renee gasped again as Sam’s face fell with shock. “You're in a lot of trouble, Sam.” The demon giggled before waving her arm.

Before he knew it, Sam was propelled across the room as an invisible force smacked into him. His body was slammed roughly into the wall with a loud impact. He groaned as he slammed against it, his head bashed against it. “Tammi, what's wrong with your eyes?” Elizabeth asked cautiously, tears streaming down her face. The demon turned to her with a bored expression, her eyes now reverting back to its host’s brown color while Sam struggled against the wall.

“Tammi, what are you doing?!” Renee demanded in her snooty tone, “Renee, shut your painted hole.” Tammi snapped, making Elizabeth cup her hand over her mouth in shock and Renee began shaking with anger. Her eyes bewildered, “What? I-I will— You can't— Not in my house, Tammi Benton!” Renee stupidly stood her ground.

The demon, annoyed, rolled her eyes before waving her right hand at Renee, resulting in the blonde’s head snapping to the right so far it almost turned completely backwards, killing her instantly. Her wide dead eyes connected with Elizabeth’s, her body falling to the floor as Elizabeth shrieked in terror, still covering her mouth.

The sounds of the bones in Renee’s neck cracking made Sam flinch on the wall, feeling sick to his stomach as he watched one of the housewives meet her demise due to her egotistical nature. “Look. You got me – let the girl go.” Sam pleaded through grunts, his jaw clenching. “Wait your turn, young man.” The demon snapped at him, now turning back to Elizabeth.

She whimpered, “Oh my god..” trembling as Tammi slowly stalked towards her, “Shh, Lizzie. It’s okay” The demon cooed with a menacing look in her eyes, “You’re not Tammi..” Elizabeth whimpered again as the demon brought her hand up to play with her brown locks. “No, but I'm wearing her meat. I had to break the ice with you girls somehow.” Tammi responded softly, but her tone held no comfort.

“You killed Renee.” Elizabeth cried, “Renee, Amanda ... That's what happens to witches who get voted off the island.” The demon smirked as she moved to walk around the altar table. “Who..are you?” Elizabeth shook as she asked, resulting in the demon lightly chuckling, “Funny story, actually.” She began, playing her hands behind her back and she recollected.

“You remember all those dark demonic forces you prayed to, when you swore your servitude? Just who did you think you were praying to?” She mocked as Sam fought against her hold she had on him but it was no use, “This-this isn't – it can't b—“ Elizabeth shook her head in denial, “What did you think it was? Make-believe? Positive thinking? The Secret?” The demon continued to taunt her as she stalked toward her once more.

“No, it was me. You sold yourself to me, you pig.” She cackled as Elizabeth gasped, looking at her with horror. “All I had to do was bring one good book to Book Club, and you ladies lined up to kiss my ass.” The demon smirked, “No, no, we didn't know—“ Elizabeth cried, shaking her head. “Oh, yes you did. You knew every step of the way, and now your ever-livin' souls are mine.”

Tammi then turned back to Sam, placing a finger up. “Comments? Questions?” Sam didn’t bother to answer her as another nasty smirk plastered across her lips before she now stalked toward him. “Hmm, Sammy Winchester, wow! Right here in our little town. You know, my friends and I, we've been looking for you and your friend” Sam rolled his eyes at her, scoffing.

“Why? Oh, right, 'cause we’re supposed to lead some piss poor demon army.” He shot back with sass and a bored expression, “No, not at all. You’re not our Messiah and Y/N is not our Saviour. We don't believe in you.” The demon spat with disgust. “But, there's a new leader rising in the West – a real leader. That's the horse to bet on, Sam, the one who's gonna tear this world apart.”

Sam glared at her as he continued to struggle in the hold, “Thing is, this demon? It doesn't like you guys very much. It doesn't want the competition.” Tammi then raised her hand, Sam slid up the wall, groaning, and was suspended against it, his feet leaving the ground. Which was pretty high considering he’s a fuckin’ giraffe, “Nothing personal, it's a P.R. thing, so, buh-bye.”

Tammi kept her hand raised, and Sam began to be crushed into the wall, paint and plaster cracking as he was pushed harder into the solid barrier. Her eyes flickered over to Elizabeth, who stood there watching, frozen in fear and the front door to the house slams open. Dean and Y/N run in with their shotguns drawn, only for Tammi to turn around and wave her hand in their direction.

Easily throwing them over the sofa. The two stumbled to their feet, only to get pinned to the wall behind them, side by side. “Three for one. Lovely.” Tammi smirked, eyeing the trio. “Great fuckin’ idea, Dean. Run in, guns blazing.” Y/N spat angrily at her boyfriend as she grunted due to the force crushing her chest.

“Shut up” Dean grumbled back at her, “Oh yeah, cause sitting back and waiting would’ve clearly been much better” He responded with sarcasm, grunting when Tammi pushed him more into the wall. “Hey! Save the squabbling for couples therapy in hell” The demon snapped, her hand still raised in their direction.

“How ‘bout you go suck a fat one?” Dean retorted with sass, ignoring the pressure on his chest as he sent her a mocking smirk. Y/N was fighting a grin from forming on her face, not wanting to encourage Dean’s smart-ass behaviors but finding the fact that he’s still got it in him to be a total ass during near death situations to be adorable while Sam rolled his eyes in annoyance on his side of the wall.

Tammi raised her palm, sending the three higher up on the wall as they grunted and groaned. “Wait!” A voice said suddenly, revealing to be Ruby. The blonde demon walked into the house with her hands raised in surrender, resulting in Tammi’s head snapping towards her. Surprised filled her eyes as she allowed her hand to fall to her side, but the hunters remained plastered to the wall.

“Please. I just ... came to talk.” Ruby pleaded, putting her hands down. “You made it out of the gate. Impressive. That was a bitch of a fight, wasn't it?” Tammi scoffed, “Doors out of Hell only open for so long.” Ruby retorted dryly, “What do you want, Ruby?” Tammi snapped, “I've been lost without you….” Ruby said in a sultry tone as she advanced slowly towards Tammi.

“…take me back. That's why I led the Winchesters and L/N here.” She smirked darkly as she glanced over to them, seeing Dean and Y/N’s faces contort with anger. The couple’s gazes darted over to Sam, mouthing harsh, ‘Told you so.’ To him. The younger Winchester looked betrayed, hurt at the fact that Ruby wasn’t going to help them. While Y/N too was suffering with that pain but she masked it over with anger directed towards the treacherous demon.

“They're for you ... as a gift.” Ruby practically moaned as she spoke to Tammi. “Really?” Tammi asked with a dark smirk, “Let me serve you again. I've wanted it – I've wanted you – for so long.” Ruby confirmed in a soft breathy tone as she bit her lip, now moving forward to stand face to face with Tammi. Dean and Y/N lifted their eyebrows at the hot-demon-chick on hot-demon-chick flirtation. The psychic tilting her head as the hunter made a, ‘Goddamn’ face.

Sam, however, wanted to puke on the spot.

“You were one of my best.” Tammi sighed. Ruby smiled softly, pretending to lean forward to kiss her but instead, she whipped out her knife in an attempt to stab Tammi, only for her to catch it midair. A nasty snarl leaving her lips, “But then again, you always were a lying whore.” The knife was thrown sideways out of their hands across the wood floor when Tammi flicked their hands to the side.

The demons immediately began to brawl with Ruby kneeing Tammi a few times in her midsection. Sending a couple of right hooks across her face but Tammi recuperated almost immediately. Head butting Ruby harshly. The two grunted in pain as the three hunters, still against the wall, watching anxiously. Flicking every so often. They weren’t even sure if Ruby was on their side at this point, her acting was a bit too good.

Tammi clapped back with a few right hooks of her own, kneeing Ruby in her stomach before kicking her into her face and sending her straight into a TV on the table. Sparks erupted from the cord behind her. But she got up and kicked Tammi in her stomach, attempting to run past her, however Tammi clotheslined Ruby causing her to fall flat on her back. Tammi then pulled Ruby up by her collar and threw her into a bookcase, the demon bleeding from her nose and mouth profusely.

Tammi then got a fireplace poker from the stand on the hearth, looking at Elizabeth who was still cowering from her, before she stalked back over to Ruby with the poker in her hand. “You're really telling me you threw in your chips with Abbott, Costello and Aubert here?” Tammi mocked the panting demon as she stood above her, looking over at the three hunters with disgust.

Ruby, panting, tried to get up but Tammi hit her across the face with the fireplace poker. Elizabeth took her chance when she realized they weren’t paying attention to her anymore, ran to the altar and dumped a bunch of pins out of a bow onto the cloth with the demonic symbol on it. Elizabeth was unseen by Tammi, who was still paying attention to Ruby.

“Come on. Get up.” Tammi continued to taunt Ruby when she didn’t move, blood still running down her nose and mouth, “I said, get up!” She shouted again before tossing the poker aside with a bored expression and crouching over Ruby, grabbing her by the jacket and pulling her up. “We've been here before, haven't we?” Tammi chuckled as she glanced over to Sam. “She didn't tell you?”

Sam looked confused as Tammi turned back to Ruby, “Pretty mortifying, I guess. She was one of mine. I turned her out a long, long time ago. Ruby here was a witch. Of course, that was when you were human.” She revealed as Ruby’s head drooped, so she grasped it, reeling it back further as she winced and grumbled. Dean, Sam and Y/N all looked surprised even though they were still both pinned to their respective walls.

Tammi then threw Ruby back down onto the debris of the bookcase she crashed through roughly and stood up, “Tsk, didn’t want your friends to know that all those centuries back, you sold yourself to me? Embarrassing, I guess.” She taunted as Ruby looked up at her with utter distaste, “But don't worry love, no secrets where you're heading remember?”

Tammi began chanting and black smoke rose out of Ruby’s mouth curling and hovering inches above her mouth as she tried to fight the exorcism. “Monyé valack forsa, ulu iri regatt ruac, fieesh nieesh forthsa lé inmist infirum forthsa por un betest a té un fornalles ecclaisee—” Suddenly, she began to cough due to Elizabeth chanting under her breath at the altar in an attempt to kill the demon.

As Tammi coughed harder, her power faltering. That resulted in Dean and Y/N dropping from the wall, both falling forward. Sam also fell from the wall and dropped to the floor as Tammi brought her hand up to her mouth. She coughed up a handful of long pins into her hand, her mouth bleeding in the process. She looked at the pins confused for a second before she remembered that she allowed Elizabeth to live.

With an angry growl, she lifted her right hand and clenched it into a fist. Elizabeth’s breath catches, bones crushing loudly as her chanting stopp. Her eyes went wide as she brought her hand up to clutch her chest before her heart stopped and she fell onto the altar, dead with her eyes still open.

Y/N used the distraction to her advantage, grasping up Ruby’s discarded knife from the ground before pouncing on Tammi. She grappled her from behind, wrapping her arm around her throat before driving the knife into her back, stabbing her repeatedly as she struggled against her grip. Tammi died as well as the demon that was inside of her, her body going weak in Y/N’s hands.

She allowed the corpse to slump down, falling to the floor, the knife still in her back. Y/N breathed heavily as her eyes glanced over her shoulder to Sam and Dean, the elder Winchester helping his little brother up to his feet. The Winchesters padded over to her, moving a bit sluggish due to their shared injuries. They stopped in front of Ruby, who had pushed herself up from the ground.

“Go.” She instructed the three, slightly embarrassed as she wiped the blood away from her mouth. “I'll clean up this mess.” She assured them. The three nodded and Y/N wrapped her arms around both of the brothers shoulders, helping each other on their way out. “Wait” Dean grunted, stopping them so he could reach down and pick up their shotguns from earlier.

The trio all look back at Ruby one more time. She turned her eyes black and glared at them harshly, “Go.” She snapped in an authoritative tone. They all walk out the door as Ruby leaned over Tammi’s body, taking her knife out of her back and holding it up. The knife was covered in blood, and smoking as Ruby breathed heavily.

____________________________________________

After the events, they went back to their motel room. Dean and Y/N were getting dinner for them while Sam stayed back. He was now splashing his face with water, panting as he looked in the mirror above the sink with a worried expression etched on his face.

Meanwhile, outside, Dean and Y/N were walking back with their food in their hands. Suddenly, the lights outside began to flicker and the two stopped in their tracks, instinctively going for their guns with their free hands as they looked around. No one was in sight but they scanned the place once more with their eyes, landing on Ruby, who was standing there in the shadows of the hotel parking lot with her arms crossed over her.

“Not this bitch again.” Y/N muttered in annoyance to herself, putting her gun away along with Dean. “So the devil may care after all, is that what I'm supposed to believe?” Dean said to Ruby across the lot. “I don't believe in the devil.” Ruby shot back as she stepped out of the shadows, stalking toward them. They did the same, now stopping in front of her. “Wacky night.” Y/N commented.

“So let me get this straight, you were human once, you died, you went to hell, you became a…” Dean’s curious words trailed off as Y/N gulped, glancing over to her boyfriend nervously. “Yeah.” Ruby answered matter-of-factly, turning to leave. But even Y/N was curious, “How long ago?” The psychic asked, causing the demon to stop in her tracks. “Back when the plague was big.” Ruby answered, her back still to them.

“So all of 'em – every damn demon – they were all human once?” Dean asked, his brows furrowing. “Every one I've ever met.” Ruby answered as she turned to face them. “Well, they sure don't act like it.” Y/N scoffed, “Most of them have forgotten what it means…..or even that they were. That's what happens when you go to Hell, Dean. That's what Hell is – forgetting what you are.”

Y/N’s breath hitched in her throat, a lump growing as Dean rolled his eyes. “Philosophy lesson from a demon. I'll pass, thanks.” He snarked, making Y/N shake her head as she swallowed thickly. “It's not philosophy. It's not a metaphor. There's a real fire in the pit. Agonies you can't even imagine.” Ruby assured him. Dean tried to mask his fear as Y/N’s gaze dropped to the floor, clenching her jaw harshly.

“No, I saw "Hellraiser". I get the gist.” He retorted. Ruby rolled her eyes and turned to start walking away. “Actually, they got that pretty close. Except for all the custom leather.” Dean looked thoughtful, pondering a question in his mind. The same question on Y/N’s mind, the thought eating away at them. Ruby had an inkling of what they wanted to ask so she stopped her departure, and turned back to them.

“The answer is yes, by the way.” She said, “Sorry?” Y/N asked with a raised brow, feigning confusion along with Dean. “Yes, the same thing will happen to you.” She told them. The two blinked rapidly, hating the fact that it was true. “It might take centuries…but sooner or later Hell will burn away your humanity. Every Hell-bound soul…every one…turns into something else. Turns you into us. So yeah….yeah, you can count on it.”

Dean glanced down at the floor, now realizing something. He was sure of it but he couldn’t ask it in front of Y/N, not wanting to break her heart or her spirit. So he turned to Y/N. “Sweetheart, will you take these inside?” He asked her gently, handing her the food in her free hand, her other hand holding up the drinks. Y/N’s face fell, “Wha—”

“Please?” He pleaded and gave her his best puppy dog eyes, adding that little pouty lip she always fell head over heels for, knowing it would make her not fight back. Sure, she was stubborn but she couldn’t always resist his charming side.

She let out a heavy sigh and hesitantly took the food from him. Once it was out of his hands, he nodded with a small smile. “Thanks.” Y/N nodded, leaning up to press a kiss to his lips, still looking confused before turning and walking toward the motel room door.

Dean pressed a kiss to his fingers, blowing it in her direction as she threw one last glance at the two before shoving the key from her pocket into the motel room door. Once she was inside, Dean’s face fell back to expressionless as he turned to Ruby. The demon had a knowing look on her face and let out a small smirk. “Spit it out then. I know you’ve got a question on your tongue.”

“There's no way of saving me from the Pit, is there?” He asked with a knowing look, scared to find out the answer. “No.” Ruby confirmed with her sigh. Her face remained emotionless, and his face fell as he stepped dangerously towards the demon with an angry expression. “Then why’d you tell Sam and Y/N that you could?” Ruby shrugged before saying, “So he would talk to me. You Winchesters and L/N can be pretty bigoted. I needed something to help him get past the—”

“The demon thing? It's pretty hard to get past.” Dean interrupted with a dry scoff as Ruby chuckled humorlessly, “Look at you. Tryin' to be all stoic. My god, it's heartbreaking.” She snorted as Dean rolled his eyes, “Why are you telling me all this?” He demanded, “I need you and Y/N to help me.” She answered, “Help with what?” Dean’s brows creased as he narrowed his eyes at her, “With Sam.” She stated matter-of-factly.

Dean sighed, shaking his head. “The way your girlfriend stuck that demon tonight – it was pretty tough. I know you’re like that too. Now, Sam's almost there, but not quite. You two need to help me get him ready – for life without you. To fight this war on their own.” He didn’t answer, his jaw clenching so harshly you’d swear the corners were turning white.

Ruby turned to walk away again. “Ruby!” He called out to her harshly and she paused. “Why do you want us to win?” He asked. Ruby turned back around to face him again. “Isn't it obvious? I'm not like them. I don't know why. I – I wish I was, but ... I'm not. I remember what it's like.” She stammered, as she looked down thoughtfully. “What what's like?” Dean blinked as he asked once more,

“Being human.” She answered simply as she looked back up at him. It was now Dean’s turn to look down, lost in his thoughts for a few seconds, and when he looked up Ruby had disappeared leaving Dean alone in the parking lot.

____________________________________________

Author’s Note: This was sooooo long overdue and for that I apologize but I hope everyone is doing well! Thank you for always supporting me and this weird ass book. Be sure to tell me what you loved and what you hated <3

What was your favorite scene? I’d love to hear!

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breakyourrxles · 8 hours ago

Text

with just a hint of color (m)

» synopsis in the aftermath of a break-up, you whisk yourself away to a brand new city to tend to your emotional wounds. you have no friends there, no connections, and every intention to keep it that way. the guy working behind the desk at your hostel, however, has other plans.

» pairing lee juyeon x fem!reader

» content [26,4k wc] vacation romance, strangers-to-lovers, fluff, minor angst, playful banter because reader is not happy about this crush, slow(ish) burn, mutual pining, hyunjae (he's his own warning because he is a Problem but in a fun way!), soft and feel good, sēxual content, alcohol consumption, happy ending!

❥ ao3

With your phone in one hand and your luggage in another, you look up from the screen to confirm your destination. All things considered, the building looks promising, and though your heart is heavy, you commit to the idea that it has got to be better than everything you have just left behind.

Relationships are hard, and moving on from them is, in most cases, much harder. Back home, the person that you once shared your life with carries on with the kind of ease that you could only dream of. Instead, you've run away; to another country, another world, and temporarily, another life.

You will have to return in three weeks, but until then, you hope to quell the ache inside of your heart with quaint cafes and calming walks in the beautiful, spring-adorned parks.

This time of the year is nothing extravagant as far as travel season is concerned, and for that you are thankful. The journey you have embarked on is for healing of the soul, not necessarily meeting new people or drowning your sorrows in the dreams of someone new. Really, you want nothing more than to rediscover yourself through time spent alone, and where better to do that than a place where not a single person knows who you are?

Dragging your bag in through the door, you shuffle yourself towards the front desk and thoughtlessly begin digging through your belongings for a form of identification.

"Hello, checking in?" a voice behind the counter says.

"Yeah, thanks." You give your name and finally locate your passport, sliding it across the waxed wood.

"You're booked for a private room, is that correct?"

"Yup, that's me."

The thought comes to you suddenly—frazzled and a little distracted by your hands being full and a head full of wandering thoughts—that you've not yet graced this person with the attention that they are deserving of. Rude, you think to yourself, and finally, you look up to find their eyes.

From behind the counter, the man sitting there looks up at the very same moment. There's a small perk to one corner of his lips with narrow, smiling eyes that accompany it so charmingly. He's handsome, a little disarmingly so if you were to be a little too honest with yourself, but you are far from being in the sort of emotional headspace that might allow for you to acknowledge it all further than you already have.

He looks at your passport, looks at you, then turns to the computer to begin inputting the pertinent information.

"You're booked for three weeks," he says, though nothing in his tone gives away the reason for stating as much. "Business, or vacation?"

Eyes narrowing suspiciously, you watch him intently and reply, "Are you asking for the system, or for yourself?"

"Myself." The man glances up towards you once again, though now the smile is more widely spread across his lips as he slips the document back towards you. "Just curious. Apologies if it's out of line, a habit I've picked up from working here. Nosey, even."

Now, this is interesting.

"No, it's fine! I just…" Trailing off, you take the time to carefully consider how much information you would like to divulge to this stranger, a man who knows precisely where it is that you will be staying for the duration of your trip and who may, or may not, be a potential murderer. Disarming once again comes to mind, and perhaps against your better judgement, you answer honestly. "It's vacation, I just needed to get away for a little while."

Nodding slowly, as if easily picking up on your trepidation, the man finishes his tasks related to checking you in, hands you a keycard with a room number written on the sleeve and says, "Here's your room and your key. It's on the third floor and there are two elevators; one right there, and one down the hall to your left." You watch him point to both, and once having done so, he continues the spiel. "There's a bar where we serve alcohol and coffee, and a communal kitchen area down that same hall. At night, you'll need your key to get inside of the building, for security reasons."

"Right, understood," you say, but the consideration of danger immediately crosses your mind and thus, you cannot help but ask: "Is this a particularly dangerous area or…?"

"Oh, no, it's fairly standard protocol, but if you have a problem, you can come find me. I'm here most days."

A smile creeps across your lips, long before you have any chance of forcing it back. The most obvious tell in regards to your feelings about this exchange; you're enjoying it, no matter how much you internally beg yourself not to.

"And who do I ask for in the event of not being able to locate your whereabouts?"

"Juyeon," he says, "Lee Juyeon. It's been a pleasure."

After a shower and some unpacking, you're ready to begin exploring what this new, exciting city has to offer.

Admittedly, you romanticize the idea of what awaits you. It's spring now and the flowers are blooming; green is finding its way back into the trees and bringing a lushness to the sidewalks that you've missed seeing over the past few months. New life feels invigorating even in the best of times, but now it serves as a much needed reminder that the dissolution of your past comforts are not the end all, be all of your world going forward. There will always be renewal, there will always be something more to look towards—you just need to remember how to find that.

You have no plans for your stay here, nothing concrete that you must abide by. No friends, no family and no work that requires your attendance. Your days are your own, and you plan to make the best of them.

The elevator takes you down—an old rickety thing that you worry slightly over the safety of—and once the doors open, a thought finds you.

This hostel lobby is shaped something like a T, with the front desk standing right at the center of the two offered hallways and the entrance at the opposite way. It would be simple enough to bypass it completely and continue on your way, but really, where's the fun in that?

"So," you begin once you reach your destination, "Any good places for a quick bite to eat around here?"

Juyeon is idly scrolling through his phone when the question comes, and slowly, he looks upwards with another one of those somewhat amused smiles.

"What are you in the mood for?"

"Nothing heavy, just a light meal. I'm tired and don't feel like being out too much today."

He nods, then much to your surprise he moves to stand up.

There should be nothing special about someone standing, but as it would turn out, there very much is with him. Juyeon is tall—much taller than you ever would have guessed him to be—and as that knowledge bowls over you with far less grace than you'd really care to admit, he leans himself over the counter and motions to the right down the street.

"On this same block, there's a really good sandwich shop that's open pretty late, a lot later than other places around here. Common last stop for people who are staying here after a drunken night out," Juyeon says, turning his head to look at you. "It's really only busy then and during lunch, so you should get in and out fast right now."

His explanation comes to an obvious conclusion, but he never really bothers to sit himself back down in his chair. Instead, he leaves himself sprawled out over the counter and in closer proximity to you, as if intently waiting for your response.

As of now, Juyeon appears to exist in that inconceivable mist between evident flirtation and a genuine desire to be helpful. They are difficult to distinguish even in cases where you know the person for longer than a couple of hours, but now, the fog shrouds these vague interactions even more thickly.

"Thanks, I'll check it out then. Any recommendations?"

Humming thoughtfully, Juyeon squints and rests in silent thought for a moment before finally saying, "I don't know what you like, so it's hard to give a recommendation. Everything is delicious, though. You're in good hands."

That raises an eyebrow from you. "In good hands… with the sandwich shop?"

"And the guy who told you to go there, obviously. Never had anyone tell me a place I told them to go to was bad."

"You work here, most people aren't going to come back to tell you that your restaurant recommendation was subpar."

Juyeon frowns a little, though there's something childish and overplayed about the expression. He retreats back to his seat behind the desk, offers a shrug and just says, "Fair enough. You'll have to be the bearer of honesty and tell me what you think when you return, then."

You realize there is an ease to your conversations with this man despite barely knowing him that you do not come to like. Namely, the way a laugh falls from your lips with no hope of fighting it back.

"Sure," you accept, "I'll let you know."

"Maybe I'll be finishing up my shift and we can have a drink."

Eyebrows furrowed at both the audacity and the forwardness, your head snaps back and this time, the chuckle you huff out is only half-amused.

"I hardly know you and now you're asking me to go somewhere with you to get a drink, in a strange city I've hardly explored for myself? What do I do when things get weird and you turn out to be a serial killer? You already know where I'm staying."

Juyeon appears equally half-amused by that, and the other half hovers somewhere around the mark of being confused. His features twist in ways that are easier to decipher; him attempting to put these nonsensical pieces together into something that does make sense, and as it would appear, failing to do so.

"I didn't say anything about going anywhere, I told you when you checked in we have a bar here. We're at the bar." Motioning along the rest of the desk and towards where it turns at the other end of the hostel that you've not yet visited, the portion of the lobby meant to handle patrons for mild, social drinking becomes wholly evident to you, and a little embarrassing. "You said you didn't want to be out much today, so we wouldn't need to go anywhere. Perks of both of us spending a whole lot of our time here, I suppose."

You stand there in awkward silence, mostly because you do not want to give him anything resembling a victory in all of this.

"I'm not a serial killer," he adds. "You can say no. Unfortunately nothing can be done about me knowing where you're staying. You're just going to have to hope for the best as far as that part is concerned."

Rolling your eyes, you readjust the strap of your small bag and say, "Fine, we can have one drink. Only because I'm proud of you for actually listening to the words that come out of my mouth."

"Unlike you with me?" he says, that sly grin once again reappearing.

"Don't push it, I'll loiter outside until your shift ends and you go home just to avoid you if you get too snippy."

"Deal," Juyeon says, so evidently pleased with the way this has all unraveled. "See you when you get back."

The sandwich was utterly divine. You consider lying about it just to avoid the smugness that would result in relaying that information.

Upon your return, Juyeon is already released from the confines of his work station and presumably catching up with his colleague on the goings on of the day. Once again, you are forced to reckon with the stature of him as he does so; tall and lean, the general shape of his form still easily decipherable from beneath the grey hoodie and loose jeans that he is wearing. He hasn't yet noticed your being there, and so you accept it as an ample opportunity to take in the sight without having to explain yourself for doing so.

There's nothing wrong with enjoying the brief company of a handsome guy that you do not know and, after this trip, will never speak to again. However, there is a ping of guilt that still resides in your chest from having not long ago been in a life situation that would not have so easily allowed for it. The throes of a break-up are almost never easy, and learning how to reenter the world as a single person with none of the previous boundaries and strings attached takes some getting used to. You aren't there yet—hell, you're not in any place for much moving forward as far as singleness nor relationships are concerned—but it is a work in progress that you intend to continue laboring on.

You are a work in progress.

Still, Juyeon seems nice enough, and not especially pushy, either. An air of thoughtful ease surrounds him in your conversations where his budding interest in you is very much present, but without any expectation to be granted the same.

Curious, but he could go off you; and as far as you are concerned, that is the best place for him to reside.

"The sandwich was good," you say with a displeased pout. "Don't make a big deal about it."

Only once you have spoken does Juyeon realize that you have returned. His attention snaps to you, a few seconds are needed for him to discern the context and understand what it is that you are even saying to him, but once he does the anticipated smugness is fast to follow.

"Fine, I won't." Not with words, but the smirk on his face says everything anyway. Nodding towards the end of the bar, Juyeon asks, "Are we still on for that drink, then?"

"Only because my dinner was serviceable, if it was bad I would have never given you the time of day again."

"It'd be only fair. What else could I expect for a bad dinner recommendation?"

"Murder? Prison?"

The two of you make your way along the short distance to the destination, and Juyeon glances at you once more.

"Tough crowd. I hope your drink expectations aren't as high, we're a hostel, not some swanky, rooftop lounge."

Taking your seats, the colleague that has taken Juyeon's spot behind the counter pops open the tops of a couple of beers and lazily slides them towards each of you. Leaning the neck of his bottle towards you, Juyeon insists on a silent cheers, and you grant him that, at the very least.

"So," he starts, "What brings you to the city?"

Halfway through your first sip, you smile through the rest of it and force it down through a rough swallow. Truthfully, you knew this would eventually come, but now that that moment is here, you don't quite know how you want to go about handling it.

Talking about the situation is far down the list of ideal activities even on the best of days, and trauma dumping with strangers somehow lands itself even lower down the line. You don't want to lie—nor do you have a cliche, uninteresting half-truth to offer up instead—and thus, you end up choosing the best thing you can for yourself with such little time to prepare.

"Oof," you say, "Don't have that one in me tonight, either."

"That bad, huh?"

"You could say that." You take another quick, strong sip. "Kind of a strong first question for getting to know someone, don't you think? What if I was like, running from the law, or something?"

Juyeon's head cocks to the side gently and he says, "Then you should tell me so I can help misdirect them when they come searching for you." An understanding nod follows, however, and he continues on to add, "Got it, we'll skip that one. Why a single, private room?"

Eyes narrowing, you look at him with a sort of stunned disbelief undoubtedly present all over your face.

"Do you really think asking a strange woman why she's staying in a private room is appropriate compared to the other question?"

And to his credit, he does appear to think it over with careful consideration for a second. Juyeon takes another drink from his beer, relents to your inquiry and says, "Work brain. Sorry about that, but in my defense, I totally had non-creepy reasons for asking."

"Please, I would love to hear them!"

"Well, a lot of the time when people choose a hostel to stay in, it's because they desire the social aspect of it. They want to meet new people and build new friendships, even if it's just for a short time," he reasons. "Of course, we offer the private rooms and people do book them, but most people would just book a standard hotel if privacy was a major concern of theirs. Which then leads me to suppose that there are two possible reasons that you didn't go that route."

You take another sip. "And what are those?"

"It's either a financial strain to book a hotel, or you're lingering somewhere in between an unwillingness to completely succumb to the social, shared living aspect of a hostel but don't completely want to shut yourself out from it, either."

This guy is going to be a problem, you now come to realize.

Another sip, a sigh, and then you say, "It's not the money."

As much as you hate it, Juyeon smiles at that.

Over the next few days you come and go from your hostel often, and more frequently than not, Juyeon is sitting there behind the counter.

With less than a week lapsed in your trip, the city and this man slowly begin to be more familiar to you. His smile is bright and charming, there is an effervescence to his words that causes even the most minute of conversations to linger in your mind. Much like this place—Juyeon is a breath of fresh air in your life that is very much welcomed and perhaps far more needed than even you had previously thought.

And as you watch the greens of the leaves fill into the tree branches and the heavy jackets of the folks that wander the streets inch back into their respective homes, there is a new hint of color that paints your world brightly, as well.

As lunchtime begins to settle in, you pull your bag tightly to your shoulder and wander out into the comfort of a lobby that you have grown so accustomed to. What awaits you there, however, is not something you could have easily come to expect.

"Good morning," Juyeon says, perched up lazily outside of his usual work-time walls. "Want to grab a coffee?"

A little awestruck and not at all prepared for what has befallen you, your eyes widen in surprise and an answer does not immediately find you. Looking at him, he does not appear particularly dressed for any such occasion; the usual type of jeans, sneakers and a nice enough cardigan for walking the town, sure, but asking someone on a date attire? You're not quite convinced.

Then again, what does asking someone on a date attire even look like? Even more than that, is he asking you out on a date?

But your skin feels warmer the longer you allow the question to linger in the air. Juyeon does not add anything onto it, does not push or prod for a reply. Merely waiting in silence as you fumble over a litany of prospective responses internally.

"I…" you start, meek and quiet in ways that are foreign to you. Navigating this is difficult for a plethora of reasons, but most of all because Juyeon has done nothing wrong. You don't want him to feel as though he might have, and have no desire to create distance between the two of you. Quite the contrary, in fact, as there is a growing, terrifying blooming inside of you that wishes there was less.

Not an option, either. Now you are placed in a complicated middle ground of fighting two sides of something where you really shouldn't be. You are in no place to be entertaining a prospective crush—yet, you cannot fully eradicate the stirring curiosity of what if?

You give a small smile, and know well enough that it does little to sell the masking of your troubles. "Sorry," you say, "I think I'll just head out on my own, for now. Thank you for the offer, it's very kind."

To his credit, Juyeon does not falter even an inch. His smile never wanes, his posture never giving inclination to any disappointment he may be feeling as a result of your declining his request. Instead, he gives a simple nod and just says, "All right, have a good day, then."

Easy enough, you think to yourself as you head out towards the door and subsequently onto the street. The words are repeated in your mind like a chant, as if meant to convince yourself of them and not allow any other thoughts to seep in through the cracks of their absence. Easy enough, easy enough, easy enough. It was easy. You stop only a few steps down onto the walkway, look up at the tree that has now nearly fully bloomed into pink and white flowers all throughout, and make peace with the truth of the matter.

That you are doing no one any favors in denying yourself the peaceful company of having met someone new. You came here with the intention of healing, perspective, and something of a brand new start. It does not have to come in the form of a new commitment, or a coming together of people that will eventually lead to forever. For you, there is little growth in forcing yourself to be locked away inside the tomb of guilt, grief and solitude.

You are mourning, yes, but you do not have to do it all alone.

So, with an abrupt turn, you stomp back inside and right back up to Juyeon, now engaged in conversation with the colleague behind the counter.

"Yes."

Juyeon's attention whips towards you, eyes wide at your abrupt declaration and with his jaw a little slack in what you can only figure to be mild confusion.

"Sorry?"

"Yes to the coffee," you clarify. "I want to get coffee. With you, I mean. If the offer is still on the table."

"Oh!" His disbelief is wholly present on him, reeling a little from the sudden realization of what is taking place. If nothing else, it's a pretty cute look on him, and you decide that you may have to do more to keep him somewhat uncertain of your next move. He goes on to say, "Yeah, of course. I know a great spot that isn't too far from here."

"I've reached the point in my exploration of this city that I no longer wish to linger within these few blocks," you say, "So, you might have to work just a little bit harder to impress me now."

Mouthing a silent ah in response to that, Juyeon nods and says, "Got it, so you're using the locals to discover all of their secret gems, that's your real angle."

"And what's your angle?" you ask, coy and a bit more flirtatious than you'd really like to admit.

"To impress wanderers who happen to find their way here, obviously."

"Better get to work, then."

Much to your displeasure and not unlike the debacle with the sandwich stop down the way, this is another situation in which you simply must give it to the guy: He certainly knows his stuff.

The cafe isn't much to look at from the outside; little more than a gray and brownish old stone building with a few carefully tended plants and a small, wooden sign hanging above a staircase leading downwards. If not for Juyeon's leading presence, you very likely would never have stumbled upon this shop, at all. There is hardly anything to guide a traveling eye towards its tucked away location, and as he holds the door open for you to walk in ahead of him, you begin to understand why.

What awaits you inside is a long, concrete corridor lined as far as the eye can see with bookshelves. Every inch of it is a home for a book—so many of them that you cannot even fathom how many may reside here. Large, nondescript, orange-hued bulbs hang from the ceiling as the only marker of there being more awaiting down the path, and as Juyeon slips by you to continue towards the destination, a new and rarely felt excitement begins to bubble up and settle into your bones.

Thankfully, the trail is not a long one, and upon reaching another door, Juyeon glances at you with a proud smile and once again motions for your entry ahead of him.

What opens up before you is brighter, more inviting and cozy; but more than any of that, it is architecturally stunning.

Small tables that appear to be carved by hand, with chairs and cushions that match the medieval ambiance of this beautiful space. The floors beneath your feet appear old yet immaculately kept, the counter and lighting fixtures equally matching; and just as the pathway leading here might have suggested, the walls appear to be never ending and fully adorned with the weathered pages and well-loved leathers of books that have somehow survived the unrelenting passage of time.

"This is…"

"Nice, right?" Juyeon says, pleased. "I found this place a few years back but haven't told many people about it, don't want it to become too much of a hot spot with a line out the door."

"Yeah, I don't blame you. What an incredible secret this spot is."

"The coffee is good, too. Sit, I'll get us something."

Too enamored by your surroundings to put up much of a fight, you choose the closest table to you and fumble with a chair as you continue to gaze around, taking in the sights that seem to shift and manifest before your very eyes. There is such an incredible attention to detail to the carvings on the wood and the paintings across the ceilings that it feels as though you see something different despite looking over the very same spot. It is confusing and beautiful and divine in ways that you can't begin to articulate should he even ask, and thus, you sort of hope that he does not.

Being some of the only patrons in attendance, Juyeon returns quickly and sits himself across from you at the tiny table, two mugs—one in each hand.

You look at them, look at the hands holding them as he sets them down, and presumably you make a face that you are wholly unaware of and that certainly gives away some of the thoughts you want kept in your mind, but Juyeon takes notice. Of course he does.

"What?" he asks, an inquisitive eyebrow perked. He brings his hands back and looks them over briefly. "Do I have something on me?"

That rips you back to reality. "Huh?"

"You were looking at my hands."

Damnit. "Oh, uh." You wrack your brain for something not weird to say, but ultimately, come up short. "They just uh… The mugs, they're small, I guess."

"Oh, no, I have big hands," he says. Clearly something he has heard before. "Freakishly big, I guess. You're only just noticing?"

Glaring at him, you pick up your coffee and bring it to your lips. "Yes, I don't make it a habit to notice people's freakishly large hands until they are pushed in front of my face, if that's all right with you."

Seemingly intent on dropping the topic, Juyeon does not respond and watches in silence as you continue to take your sip. Then, once finished, he asks, "So? How is it?"

It's incredibly good. Some of the best that you've ever had. "Fine," you say.

He offers a small smile and accepts that as the best answer that he is going to get.

"How did you find this place, anyway?" you ask.

A reminiscent glow washes over Juyeon as he appears to recall the memory, arms folding over his chest as he stares off into your shared, ample surroundings.

"I like to read a lot and I wanted to find a place that was quiet and had good drinks—the kind of place that wasn't as simple and busy as a library or any coffee shop on the corner of a street. Not the kind of place for meeting people or for taking video call meetings for work, you know? Just somewhere that I could read, and think, and sit in the silence of whatever it was I happened to be feeling at the time."

"Thinking type," you conclude aloud, "Tormented by the mind prison a little, are you?"

He huffs out a chuckle at that. "Sure, sometimes, but aren't we all? Maybe a little bit more than most, I'll admit." Reaching forward, he takes his mug into his hand and takes a small sip before continuing on to explain, "I think a lot about the world, the people in it—my being in it—the impact all of us have on everyone and everything around us. Isn't that normal?"

Nearly choking on your current sip, you manage to get through it and say, "I'm gonna be honest with you, I don't think most people are thinking about that a majority of the time."

"They probably should, no? Isn't it important to consider the way we interact with everything in our day to day lives? Make an effort to leave the people we meet better than however it was that we found them?"

Slowly, the pinned smile in your lips begins to fade.

"Yeah, that would be nice, but I just don't think the average person takes it into consideration as much as you might." You set your drink down, suddenly having lost the taste for it, gaze dropped down to the careful etchings marked into the wood of the table. "Having that kind of whimsical, careful view of your surroundings might result in you landing yourself in a rather unfortunate situation, you know."

"You don't believe that people are, at large, fundamentally good?" Juyeon asks.

Swallowing hard, you make an effort to not acknowledge the painful ache welling inside of your chest. You know that he is not sifting around through the most broken and wounded threads of yourself on purpose, but his uncanny ability to unearth them is crushing all the same.

And so, with your hands still delicately wrapped around the white porcelain, you inhale deeply and say, "I do, but you'll have to forgive me for not jumping to rally behind the same conclusion."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

A heavy sigh escapes you as you relent to this, slumping back into your chair and rolling your eyes. "Sure, I mean we're already meeting outside of your working hours, might as well take this to the next level in a trauma-dumping sort of way. When I first came here, you asked what I was here for: Well, the answer to that is I'm running away. Running away from a very fresh break-up that I didn't see coming. Running away from the fact that I still have all of my shit in that apartment and in about two weeks time I'll have to go back there and deal with it because the situation simply isn't going to deal with itself. Whatever healing I think I'm doing here is only going to be immediately undone the second I set foot back through that door. I came here because I needed to get away, I came here to put off the inevitable. This isn't going to fix any of that, but at the very least, I owe it to myself to not have to think about it for a little while."

Once you finish speaking, you awkwardly await a response. For reasons you don't quite know, you have anticipated Juyeon's next words to come almost immediately, and once they do not, the discomfort of you laying your emotions bare quickly becomes too stifling for you to handle.

"And I know what you're going to say," you continue, cutting through the silence, "That running away isn't the answer, that it's nonsensical, and I get that. Intellectual-Smart-Guy with a vast understanding of the world; I know, it's just not something I can deal with yet. It's all too raw, too brand new. I don't know."

You give a tentative, careful upwards glance to gauge Juyeon's reaction to everything that you have just said, and what is waiting for you on the other side is a gentle, adoring look that extends to you nothing but empathy and kindness.

"Running away is fine sometimes," he says. "You don't have to deal with all of that right now. It'll be handled when it's handled, on your own time, when you can. I don't blame you for wanting to get away." Sitting forward, Juyeon presses an elbow into the table and cradles his chin into a palm, still gazing at you with those soft eyes. "How could I possibly scold you for your choice when ultimately, it's the same one that has us sitting here now?"

Your defenses melt away in almost an instant, the tension from your shoulders falling and any sense of fight once coursing through your veins quickly diminishing. What replaces it all is instead a feeling of finally being understood and being seen; the warmth of not only being heard, but having the calloused outer layers of something dark and gruesome peeled off to—in some form—be loved.

Slowly, your eyes narrow as you stare at him and in a last ditch effort to maintain some air of lightheartedness to this engagement you ask, "Is this a date?"

He laughs. "Do you want it to be a date?"

"That's not how this works! You had something in mind when you asked, so is it a date, or not?"

"I could say the same for when you changed your mind and came back inside at the hostel, too."

"Are you really going to play mind games with the poor girl who just told you about all of her horrible, emotionally devastating life circumstances?" you ask, playing up the turmoil you are pretending to experience with dramatic displays of sorrow. "How could you? What a horrible man…"

"Fine," Juyeon concedes, leaning back once more and finishing off the rest of his coffee with a confident, amused hiss. "Then it's a date. Happy now?"

Oh!

For reasons completely unbeknownst to you, you had not been expecting him to acquiesce to your insistence for clarification so easily. This had all been something of a game in your mind with no real implications or weight to it, but now, the truth of the matter is fully laid out on the table and you have no other option than to see it, take it, consider it for precisely the thing that it is.

As well as your subsequent feelings about that.

The guilt from a ghost partnership still lingers heavily in your chest—the whispered voice of something that once existed insisting that you should not be here and should not be participating in all of this. It nearly feels correct to give in to that thought; to accept it as the truth and not press further nor ask questions about the who or what this thought lives to serve.

But the ghost torments you because it prevails in the stead of something that has since departed. You owe it nothing, and the sooner you learn to stand firm against it, the sooner you can finally remember what it is to live for yourself again.

This will all come to an end soon enough, and when you step foot back onto that plane nothing that happens here will ever really matter, anyway.

"Yeah," you eventually say, "Suppose I am happy now."

The first week of your rehabilitation trip has concluded, and all things considered: It's going rather well.

Juyeon is a treat, and the more time you spend with him, the more you find this to be the case. Your initial description of him—disarming—proves to be an apt one, because whether you want them to or not, the walls you had constructed meant to keep the barrage of emotional turmoil at bay are crumbling faster than you can attempt to rebuild them.

And worst of all, there is a strong part of you that has all but given up trying.

There is so much about him that excites you in regards to starting your day, and knowing he is going to be downstairs waiting to see you with that bright smile and those pretty eyes more often than not has you pressing the elevator button just a little bit faster than you otherwise might have. More times in succession than if you were just heading down to the corner store for something to drink. No, what waits for you down there is the person that has inevitably turned your life upside down. It isn't the first time this has happened to you at the hands of another as of recent, but damn does it feel so good.

You remember booking this trip in something of a haze; a mess of sadness, turmoil and grief as you continued selecting more and more days that would result in your being away from home. Three weeks is a long time to be in a place that you've never been to before, where there are no people that you can turn to for any comfort, but you figured, what the hell? I have nothing here for me, anyway.

However, now that your trip has officially breached the precipice of week number two, the ache of a journey that is quickly coming to an end begins to creep up and cling to the wayward strings of your injured heart.

Regardless, there is lunch to be eaten and with a stomach that rumbles as you make your way into the lobby, Juyeon is quick to grab your attention before you can further your trek away.

"Hey, I'm finishing up work around six. I wanted to ask you if you'd like to take a walk with me around the city. Just do some sight-seeing, maybe show you a few more special spots, if you'd be interested."

No matter how hard you try, you cannot help the way your heart leaps every time he asks.

At the very least, you are able to catch and temper the smile that inches its way into the corners of your lips. "Yeah, I'd like that. You have to buy me a drink, though. I don't go out with men unless there's a little treat waiting for me on the other side."

"That's fair, I'd never ask a lady out and not have a little treat to offer her. Brutish behavior, really."

"I'll see you at six," you say with muted, anticipatory glee. "Maybe do something with your hair, while you're at it."

Juyeon's eyebrows furrow, confused by the comment and running fingers through messy, lazy black strands. "Something wrong with my hair?"

"No, but I've never seen it styled. I'm joking, you don't have to do anything for a walk around town. Do you always take everything people say to you so literally?"

"I mean…" He starts the comment, but trails off as if considering his next words a bit more carefully than initially projected. "Yes? I tend to believe the things people say to me. Is that weird?"

"No, it's a good quality," you say, swallowing down all of the lies that have been told to you with a stinging throat. "Just another thing we have in common I suppose."

Rain has fallen on this day, and as a result, the moisture carries a bite of cold through the wind for the first time since your arrival.

Still, the sun slowly sets over the horizon and casts a dull, brilliant shine over the puddles on the sidewalks and the drops that cling to newly sprouted leaves. The air smells fresh and inviting as it mixes with savory meats from food trucks and mouth-watering sweets from little stands perched up at the entrance of the park. It's chillier than you might typically like, but there is no place else you would rather be.

You had arrived earlier than told to the hostel, and Juyeon insisted that you head off ahead of him. Now, you stand here at the place that you've been told and wonder what all of the fuss was about.

Only moments later, the feeling of another body looming within your airspace is noticed, and turning to look; you find him.

Of course, there is a cup in Juyeon's hand which is quickly pressed towards you, but far more intriguing than any silly drink he could have conjured is his hair.

You know your reaction to it is obvious and you don't have the strength of will to dial it back. Jaw slack, eyes wide, and worst of all—not a damn word to say. Utterly silenced. Gobsmacked. This is a new hell and it's of your own creation.

If your intentions were to steer clear of this—whatever this even is, or insists on becoming—you've done an impressively poor job of making that easy to maintain. Juyeon looks at you with that same gentle smile that he always does, only now, the delivery feels far more different than what you have grown accustomed to. His hair is pressed back and off of his forehead save for a handful of strands that wisp down, unable to be tamed. There's product in there to hold the style, he has clearly put effort into this, and as if this isn't bad enough, you think there may even be a hint of eyeliner placed to sinisterly elongate his eyes.

In all honesty; it makes him look strange to you. Not in a bad way, nothing ugly or unpleasant to look at. Really, quite the opposite. The man you have gotten to know that is soft, careful and hopeful in his outlook in life has now had the audacity to become jarringly, threateningly sexy.

"Oh!"

That's really the best you've got for a reply, and you don't feel good about that, either.

"What? This is what you asked for, isn't it?" Juyeon glides a hand delicately over the shape of his hair with something of a knowing grin and then says, "Ask and you shall receive."

"I don't remember ordering the eye make-up that has you looking all scary and looming… you're too…" You cannot possibly say the first few things that come to mind, so you pick something much further down the line of potentials in hopes of maintaining at least some dignity. "Big, and long for that. You look like my sleep paralysis demon."

"You have a very fascinating way of complimenting people," Juyeon says, and once again, he extends the drink that you have not yet taken from his hand towards you. "Little treat, as demanded."

"Are you just going to give me anything I ask for? Do you have a new apartment or maybe a car I could have, too?"

He laughs at that, and you hate how good it sounds with his deep but mellow tone.

"Unfortunately not, you've seen where I work. Hair and treats are pretty manageable, though. Come on, let's walk before the sun fully sets so we can see the flowers."

And so, you do.

Talking to Juyeon is easy, and the more you do it, the more you begin to relent to the fact that there is something developing between the two of you. All of the denial in the world couldn't make you blind to it, and worst of all; you know he feels it too.

"Amusingly," Juyeon begins upon being questioned about his style for the evening, "I used to do the whole eyeliner and hair thing a lot more often a few years back, but I think it made me appear intimidating and unapproachable—which isn't great considering the hostel—so I stopped except for times when I go out for a night more accepting of it. You know, bars or clubs. That sort of thing."

"I have to imagine you get approached by women a lot if you're going around looking like that."

"Not really. Like you said…" He glances towards you. "Too scary."

You roll your eyes and give an incredulous huff. "You're way too good looking to be complaining about not being able to pick up chicks."

"I never said I was complaining, or that I can't talk to women."

Halfway through a step, something appears to catch Juyeon's attention and he stops dead in his tracks to rifle through his pocket. It's only now that you realize he had put more attention into his attire, as well; fitted jeans that cling much more tightly to the shape of his long legs and the hoodie retired for a long, black coat that is clearly saved for evenings out such as this.

Eventually, he discovers the culprit of his distraction and fishes out his phone. You watch him navigate through it for a short time and then finally, he turns back to face you.

"You're all about new experiences here, seeing all of my special little spots," he says, something coy and enticing etched into his voice. "Want to do something crazy?"

Going to some stranger's house party with a guy that is not far off from being a stranger himself is certainly not something you would ever find yourself doing back home—but fuck it, here you are.

You come to learn that the home that you are in only a few train stops away from the hostel belongs to one of Juyeon's friends from college, Kevin. He is boundless energy as he socializes like the effortlessly gifted host that he seems to be, and though you only get a few minutes of his time before he is off to continue the rounds, you have a good feeling about him.

And as a result, an even better one of the man that you have come here with.

A few of Juyeon's friends are in attendance, in fact, and they're all perfectly pleasant and enjoyable to be around. Sangyeon keeps asking if you need anything as if he is the one hosting, Younghoon does drive-by interactions with Juyeon because he is, for all intents and purposes, an absolute smoke-show. Girls won't leave him be, guys won't leave him be; Younghoon has his night cut out for him, and you can't help but enjoy the sights as you watch it all unfold before you.

All of his friends are good looking and lovely, but still, your attention always returns back to Juyeon. As the night goes on the drinks continue to flow, small displays of affection begin to inch their way into your interactions, each more brave than the one just before it. A brush of a hand turns into a gentle curling of a finger into another. Space between your bodies becomes slimmer, faces creep closer, and at some point the courageous brush of a strong hand settles warmly at the small of your back. A brief touch, but not easily forgotten.

Looking towards him, your eyes meet. The gaze is held just a bit longer than it usually is, something far more intentional sitting behind his eyes now. A single corner of his lips perks upwards just a bit as neither of you move to break the stare, and for the first time since beginning to spend time with him like this, you realize just how much there is that exists between you, unsaid.

Then, in the moment immediately following, much of the room erupts into cheers and applause. Many of them are chiding and teasing in tone, but you don't know any of these people nor whoever it could be entering into the room enough to understand the lore that awaits being discovered. Juyeon looks upwards and over the heads of many on account of his height, and it would appear that he locates the point of all of the commotion, because he settles back beside you, chuckles under his breath, and shakes his head ever so slightly.

"What? What is it?" you ask.

"Give it a second, he'll do the introductions himself."

You figure, there's a lot of people here, and most of them seem to know whoever this is that is the life of the party. What are the chances that they immediately make their way over here to us? But as soon as you finish the thought, another tall, handsome person with an almost comical grimace carved into his face slithers out from the crowd of people and beelines straight for Juyeon.

"What the hell man," he says, sounding a little exhausted already despite having only just arrived. His face expresses all of his feelings in quick succession, and contrasted to Juyeon's smooth, nearly stoic demeanor—this guy comes off almost like a cartoon character. "I just got here and everyone has to make a big deal about it!"

"You never come out," Juyeon reasons. "You should come out more, then it wouldn't have to be such a display."

"Oh my god…" The last part of the word draws for what seems like forever. Eyes rolling, shoulders slumping. You really can't help but laugh. Whoever this is, you already sort of like him. "I'm busy! Maybe you people should be more busy!" Suddenly, you catch his awareness. He drops the subject entirely, looks at you and says, "Hi. This is so humiliating. You must be Juyeon's uhh… friend?"

"Yes, I am Juyeon's-Uhh-Friend." You introduce yourself properly, offer a hand for shaking, and the perfectly collected man who had been utterly flustered only seconds ago takes it without hesitation.

"Lee Jaehyun, people also call me Hyunjae, because there's like, I don't know, four Jaehyun's in the friend group or something. We've all lost count by now."

"Seems like you're everyone's favorite based on that response."

"Well! What can I say? I am a bit of the life of the party."

"He'll be passed out in Kevin's room before eleven, I can promise you that," Juyeon interjects.

Jaehyun snaps his head towards Juyeon with slim, judgmental eyes and says, "You're mean to me and I don't appreciate it. You should be nicer, especially in front of your uhh-friend."

"She's my friend, yes, please do your best to not be weird about that."

"I'm not weird about anything," Jaehyun says, resolute in the fact. "By the way, I'm coming by tomorrow so look alive at the counter. I will be tormenting you."

"I wouldn't have it any other way."

"Are you two always like this?" you ask, looking back and forth between the two of them as they engage in a staredown of epic proportions.

Juyeon blinks slowly as if already growing bored of Jaehyun's antics and carefully says, "Yes, but he's my best friend, so what's a guy to do?"

Leaning in towards you, Jaehyun whispers rather loudly and with no effort to keep the conversation secret: "He likes it, he likes being poked and prodded quite a bit. Protip from me to you."

You laugh, Juyeon sighs, and just as quickly as he arrives, Jaehyun bounds away.

When the night draws to a close, you insist that Juyeon's services of walking you back to the hostel are not at all required. He already spends so much of his time there, and you are now perfectly capable of navigating the transit of the city to make it back safely by yourself. Of course, your half-hearted attempts are easily brushed to the wayside, and as you step back inside of the lobby you have no other option than to come to accept that though your reluctance may be half-hearted, another area of your heart is absolutely full.

"Can I walk you up to your room?"

Screaming yes is a little unbecoming of you, so instead, you give a small nod and head towards the elevator.

"Might as well, you already know which room I'm staying in, anyway."

"You keep saying that as if I'm going to just show up unannounced."

"Never know," you say, "You do look quite scary right now."

As the two of you walk down the hall, your mind swims with all of the potentials that reside within the rest of this night. It is late, you have things you want to do tomorrow, and you already may be slated to spend some of it nursing the minor hangover that you had not at all planned to have. It's been worth it, you're not upset, but you are weighing your options.

Always a battle between what you want, and what you believe the right decision is to make.

Your room draws closer, closer, until the two of you finally arrive. Juyeon stands beside you with his hands shoved into the pockets of his coat, looking at you with what can only be described as some kind of adoration lingering behind his eyes. Maybe he has never hidden it, maybe it has always been there and it's only now that you're willing to accept it for precisely as it is, can you see it. Maybe it's the alcohol—you can't be entirely sure—but you're happy, you enjoy it, you want to feel more of it.

"Thanks for tonight," you say, and you are hopeful that those words put a pin in the evening with enough finality. If pressed, you can't be sure that you won't succumb to the whims of all of this. You want to, you'd like to; but the timing doesn't feel quite right. "I had a lot of fun, and it was really nice meeting all of your friends. Even the crazy ones."

"You can just say Jaehyun," Juyeon says through a shallow laugh, "He'll be around tomorrow, so you can enjoy more of the show then."

After that, a silence falls between you. Neither of you motion towards anything in particular as you remain firm and unwilling to put an end to this moment. When the uncertainty of what's to follow becomes all but unbearable, you slip your keycard out from your coat and move to slide it into the lock.

The two things never connect, however. A strong but careful hand wraps around that very same reaching wrist and you are wrapped up in the imminent form that swiftly presses your back right against the door.

Juyeon has always existed at a distance from you, but now, the space between your bodies seems to have dissipated completely. Towering over you, caging you in place with long arms and broad shoulders; he pauses for a short time as the two of you merely look at one another. There are no words shared, barely the sound of breaths being exhaled filling the meager, remaining area.

His head dips down slowly, and it takes every bit of strength still clinging on inside of you to not leap forward and lock him into the kiss.

You wait, because when it finally does come, it's breathtaking. Juyeon kisses you for the first time and it feels like everything you could have ever desired and then more. Smooth lips with just a hint of the taste of alcohol still lingers on his mouth. It tantalizes you, makes you want and crave and desire even more. His head cocks ever so slightly in an effort to take you in more, and you let him. His for the taking.

But before you have the chance to settle into it fully and give yourself away, he retreats and creates space between your bodies once again. You're left reeling, breathless and far more wanting than you'd ever care to admit—something he probably knows, an even more irritating fact of the matter.

"I'll see you tomorrow," he says, offering a coy smile that mutates into a sinister bite at the bottom of his lip. "Sleep well?"

I could sleep better. "Yeah, I will. You too."

Oh. This guy is going to be the end of you.

You spend the better part of the next morning trying not to think about it. Showering, brushing your teeth, and getting ready for the day; trying not to think about it.

It is sort of all you can think about, unfortunately.

The hangover you anticipated nursing isn't so much of a problem, and that's one thing you can be thankful for. All things considered, it was a pretty good night—a very good night. You don't know what the end of it means, or what you have to expect for your future in regards to Juyeon, but for now, you're content with the way things have turned out.

What more is there to want from this, anyway?

"Hey!"

Being shouted at as you turn the corner catches you off guard, and you stop dead in your tracks like a deer caught in the headlights. Juyeon is sitting in his usual spot behind the counter, but the addition of another has completely slipped your mind in the aftermath of… well, everything else that has transpired since then.

Jaehyun is perched up against the counter, slumped against it lazily like he owns the place and it isn't somewhere that business is meant to be conducted in some sort of professional manner.

Last night had been a whirlwind when meeting him, and now that there are no shouting friends or ridiculous banter being shared, you finally have the opportunity to really take him in. He's handsome in a sort of approachable, inviting way—almost the opposite of Juyeon's darker and more demanding appearance. Bright eyes and a pretty slope to his nose with a freckle for good measure. His hair is messy and parted in the middle in a way that suggests that it has probably just ended up like that, with little assistance from the man whose head it sits upon.

"Good morning, I see the party has already started without me," you say.

"Hardly, this guy is a drag." Jaehyun throws a thumb back towards Juyeon and doesn't even bother gracing him with his full attention. "All work and no play. Snooze!"

"Well, he is at work, you know."

"Oh my god, who cares. He takes everything so seriously. You should hear him talk about books."

"I'm afraid I already have."

Jaehyun's eyes go wide and apparently that is appalling enough to have him twisting himself to look at Juyeon finally. "You seriously talked to her about the most boring thing about you? Lemmie guess, you took her to that one place."

"I did," Juyeon says with ease.

"And you're still interested, huh?" He is turned back towards you now. "That's crazy."

"Well…"

"Say, I have some shopping I need to get done near here, mind if I steal you away? Could always use a woman's touch."

You smile, amused by his antics and say, "Sure, not like I'm going to be doing much with Mr. Professional over there."

"Hurtful!" Juyeon chimes back.

"Right? I'm saying." Jaehyun darts towards you and slips his arm around your own, hooking your elbows together. "Well, we're off then. I'll have her back before supper, promise."

"We don't have plans tonight." A pointless addition by the man behind the counter.

Jaehyun pouts. "Can you ever just play along?"

"Not if it brings you joy, no. Have fun you two."

"We will!"

For as effortlessly outgoing and borderline exhausting Jaehyun can be at a glance, you realize in a short time that the two of you actually get along incredibly well.

He is fun and enthusiastic about everything, positive about things in a sort of boisterous way that makes you understand how he and Juyeon have become such close friends. There is a shared love of the world and the people that inhabit it, and where Juyeon prefers to hold a quiet adoration for it that can seem ironically cold and cynical to the uninitiated, Jaehyun is loud, excited and more than willing to let his love be shown.

A personality that matches your own well, and Juyeon's in a sort of similar fashion. The perfect addition to your budding involvement in their lives.

With a t-shirt held up to himself, Jaehyun glances at you in the reflection of the mirror and completely randomly asks: "So, Juyeon, huh?"

Stunlocked, you stare back at him in silence as you weigh your options of reply.

"What about him?"

He rolls his eyes. "You know what, don't play dumb with me! I have never once seen him bring a random girl from the place he works at around to his friends, much less spend any time with them, at all. Kind of only implies one thing."

"We get along well, and I like his taste in coffee shops."

His eyes roll again, as if he cannot help himself. "Nobody likes his taste in anything. Give that excuse up. He's a little intense in a sort of endearing way. Big scary cat, but he means well. Juyeon's a good guy but like… I don't know. What's the plan?"

The question you have been doing your best to not only avoid, but also ignore. It drops like a stone in your stomach, and being pressed on it is very far from the mental headspace you'd like to be in as of now. Suppose it must be written all over your face, because Jaehyun retracts it only seconds later.

"Okay, forget I said anything! Tough crowd. I was just wondering."

However, knowing that Jaehyun means well as far as Juyeon's interests are concerned gnaws away at the guilt already building inside of you. He goes back to sizing himself up in the mirror with the prospective new shirt, and you know that what you're being gifted here is an out.

Some more silence carries by, and you wonder if the awkwardness left is only felt by you. Undoubtedly, he is not bothered by your unwillingness to engage in the discussion. For you, it still feels like something of a failure given how far things between you and Juyeon have already carried on.

And so, you come to a decision. You close your eyes, inhale deeply and say, "It's just… I'm obviously just visiting, and I'm already coming out of a mess of a situation, and everything is sort of happening more than I ever really thought it would." Your eyes crack open to survey the scene, and Jaehyun is still not even looking at you. Surprisingly, his lack of attention is comforting. "I don't know. Maybe I should have stood my ground more, been firmer about it."

He grimaces at that, finally showing some form of response to your words. Only now that you have seemingly disgusted him with them. "What? That's your take away from all of this? No man! If you two are having fun doing whatever then you should keep having fun doing whatever. Don't be so doom and gloom about it, nothing has even happened to you."

"You don't think about things very much, do you?"

"Rude, I think about things a lot," Jaehyun says, shoving the shirt back onto the rack. Once it has been discarded, he stomps his way towards you and throws an arm over your shoulders, effectively locking you into a loose chokehold. "You two think about things way too much. Overthinkers. Always musing and worrying and blah, blah, blah. Live a little! If you want to run away to a brand new city and bang my weird hot friend then you know what? I think that's cool. Good for you."

You can't help the ugly frown that twists into your face.

"All I'm saying is," he continues, "Things are going well, right? You're having a good time, and it's probably better than whatever you thought it was going to be when you arrived. Moping and feeling sorry for yourself in the quiet of your own company can really only take you so far, eventually you would simply have to get out there and share it. Maybe it just happened a little quicker than you expected." His grip around your neck tightens just slightly, pulling you tighter against him. "Speedrunning healing! Incredible stuff! Now, enough about you, I need to shop."

The following few days have you spending more time with Jaehyun, and less with Juyeon. Shopping trips, coffee stops, and random tagalongs require you to spend even more time away from the hostel at your new friends' request. Occasionally, Juyeon will find the time to meet the two of you for a brief gathering before he is required to step back into the role he so often takes, and as a result, your friendship with Jaehyun quickly blossoms into yet another thing that you never could have expected.

Seated at a table inside of a brand new lunch spot, Jaehyun gets a sly grin plastered across his face as he so often does when something devilish has caught his mind. By now, you have learned to prepare yourself well for whatever it is that might come next.

"You're going to have to start making more time for Juyeon or he's going to start thinking something."

Eyes thinning into a glare, you look at him sternly. "He's the one that's always working lately."

"So you should spend more time there."

"I didn't come here to spend all my time cooped up inside of the hostel lobby, he knows that."

Jaehyun sighs, leans back in the booth he is seated in like he is already growing tired of you not understanding the point of this conversation and repeats, "He's going to start thinking something."

"Are you telling me he's jealous?"

Making a face that signals that what you have said is neither here nor there in the most apt way, Jaehyun crosses his arms and for once, does not respond immediately. He thinks through the next thing he wants to say rather carefully in a way that you're not so used to seeing from him, but when the most appropriate response does come to mind, he shifts ever so slightly and stares off towards nothing to say it.

"That word I feel comes with a lot of negative connotations that I don't feel really encompass the way Juyeon experiences what I'm talking about. He isn't jealous in the sort of way that a lot of guys typically are. Like, he isn't going to get weird, or angry, or probably wouldn't even say all that much about it, but he is competitive—and you'll be able to tell."

"How will I know if he feels some kind of way about it if he doesn't… really do anything that would alert me of that fact?" you ask.

"Vibes," Jaehyun says confidently, as if it's the most clear and evident answer in the world. "If he starts to feel as though he may be infringing on something, you'll definitely know the difference. Besides, he obviously likes you, so he's going to feel some kind of way about it no matter what the reason is for you not being around as much."

You don't really know what to say to that.

The writing has been on the wall for a while, but hearing it said out loud feels differently than all of the other markings towards the fact. Jaehyun sees it, you see it, but nothing has been said once between the two of you. Anything that has developed with Juyeon has been an unspoken rule living silently—and now that it is here, you find yourself unsure of exactly what to make of it.

So much uncertainty can exist within a kiss. Physicality can mean something, nothing, or everything depending on so many factors operating between those involved. Perhaps it would be easier if you were able to chalk all of this up to nothing more than a hopeful, single night spent together that will not change the lives nor the hearts of either person the next day. Perhaps then you could walk away with all of your sensitivities intact.

Yes, that would be quite a bit easier, in fact.

"Anyway, want to grab dinner tonight? There's this new taco place I want to try and I don't want to go alone," Jaehyun says.

"You don't seem to like doing anything alone, do you?"

"Why would I when I have an unemployed friend that's happy to go anywhere and do anything with me? Juyeon is too busy for us, we've only got each other now."

"I don't believe that line of thinking is going to help the…" You pause, waving a hand between the both of you. "Whatever he might mistakenly think this is, allegations."

"Well! Then maybe he should spend more time with us!" His face turns to that of utter glee at the thought he has had and he says, "Oh! That's fun! We can turn him into the third wheel! He'd love that."

"Okay…" you start. "Well, yes to dinner but I'm going to go back to the hostel to freshen up a bit and see if Juyeon wants us to bring him anything. So he knows we're thinking of him, at least."

"Great idea, try to drag him along if you can, I want to try this third wheel thing out for a giggle."

You close your eyes slowly, recenter your mind, and try to remember how it is you ended up with this guy as your next closest pal in a far away city.

By some incredible luck, Juyeon is able to free himself from the confines of the front desk in order to accompany you on your journey. Unfortunately, you cannot decipher whether or not your earlier conversation with Jaehyun is now clouding your ability to perceive his demeanor towards you, or if it has really and truly, shifted.

"How was work?" you ask while walking, only a stone's throw away from your destination.

"Good, more or less the usual."

This is difficult. You don't know Juyeon well enough to know if this is normal or abnormal, and he is typically a bit more reserved in the way he presents in any given situation. His body language is normal as is his tone, but there is just something about the way he is interacting with you that feels off. Is it a guilty conscience for nothing that you have done? Maybe. Jaehyun's warning rings loudly in your memory with each step that you take towards meeting him and wonder; Is it already too late?

Jaehyun is sitting at a table outside when the two of you finally arrive, and it is only then that you realize the weather is perfect for it. The air is warm but there are no strong breezes that may have you fighting for your life against a napkin that is hopeful to leave, and when you take your seat, you steal a glance at Juyeon just for good measure.

The same as always. You're not entirely sure what you were expecting to find.

"About time," Jaehyun says, "I've been waiting here forever."

"What? Ten minutes?" Juyeon asks.

"Yes." And with that, the server is already arriving with some drinks.

"Did the two of you have fun today?"

That question gives you pause, and the feeling as if there is a stone sitting in your gut for good measure. Your eyes slide towards Jaehyun who does not meet your interest—instead much too enamored by the slice of orange attached to the rim of his glass.

"Always do," he answers, and you can't help but feel as though your friend is not doing an ample job of reading the room at this moment. The conversation about Juyeon and his potential feelings in regard to all of this has only just taken place earlier, but here goes this guy playing right into any doubt that may be brewing. "We get on like a house on fire, I'm glad you introduced us!"

The face that Juyeon dons in response to that is fascinating to you, because it is some mixture of amusement and confusion. He looks up towards nothing; the sky, the trees, the logic that he hopes to discover in Jaehyun's statement, then eventually asks: "Did I introduce you?"

"Well, we met because of you, don't get hung up on the details."

"Sure."

"We have a fine time," you add, feeling as though you should ease the tension that may or may not be mounting here. Unfortunately, you have little to say in regards to the matter that doesn't make the scenario you are in increasingly bizarre, and thus, you have no other option than to concede and say, "He talks a lot, so that's fun."

We have a great time as friends doing things friends do, just in case you were wondering. We don't do anything romantic or sexual, not that you asked. All of the potential things you wish to say come out as some form of that, and tragically, despite its truth, leans a little too far into unconvincing territory.

Thankfully, Juyeon cracks a small smile at your words. "Ah, so you've noticed."

"I am constantly surrounded by people with nothing to say, someone has to pick up the slack!"

And as you glance from Jaehyun over to Juyeon, he stares down at the fruity beverage that appears so contradictory to him and says, "Yes, but people are drawn to you nonetheless, so you must be doing something right."

Though such a minor comment, you feel the unending weight of it. Juyeon does not look up and towards you at any point and instead, takes a slow, calculated sip of his drink and continues staring downward as if unable to bring himself to see either of you.

Two days later, you sit down and do the thing you have been putting off for much of your time here.

You calculate.

It has been sixteen days that you've been here, and you have now entered into your last week. Perched at the edge of your bed, you look at the calendar on your phone and repeatedly count how much of your trip still remains, as if in hopes that another day will somehow find itself as a part of the fray. You check your plane ticket home to ensure that the date is right—that it isn't some time in the future and you've simply lost track—but become sullen at your ability to remember your own itinerary.

Less than a week, and tonight is the hostel mixer.

When Juyeon had originally mentioned it in passing, it had felt so impossibly far away. At the time, you had briefly imagined what your night might be spent like during the event; trivia with strangers, billiards with strangers, drinks with strangers… but more than likely, nothing particularly memorable. It would become a fun enough night that you tucked into your memory and probably never recall again. A pleasant evening, but nothing special. Nothing to call home about.

Now, it has become so much more, because while Juyeon will be working, he will not be stuck behind the confines of his desk job. Tonight, the expectation is of him to mingle, make sure that everyone is safe, having fun, and abiding by the loose set of rules.

Additionally, it means that much of his time can be yours.

Jaehyun is coming because of course Jaehyun is coming. He is a man with nowhere else to be and nothing but the luxury of time. Someone who enjoys people watching and causing a minor problem if it results in some amusement for him; and what better place to hang for that than the little party the hostel his best friend works at is throwing.

Really, he shouldn't even be allowed to come. It's an event for the employees and patrons of the establishment, but of course, Juyeon is always happy to pull some strings.

To your surprise, the lobby you have grown so accustomed to looks rejuvenated, completely transformed from what you are used to seeing.

Sure, the decorations are cheap and jarringly colorful given the event planned for the night. You wonder if the owner sent them to the nearest party store with only a small amount of cash and told their employees to simply make it work, because the juxtaposition between bright children's birthday streamers and gloomy, dimmed ambiance against the walls has certainly been a choice.

You're really going to miss this.

A plastic cup is immediately shoved into your hand before you have even finished taking in your surroundings, and unsurprisingly, it's Jaehyun to your side as the deliverer of it.

He always sort of looks and dresses the same, so it comes as no surprise that tonight is no different. His jeans are a little more fitted and his button down shirt just a tad bit nicer, but there are minor creases in it that drive home his unwillingness to put in more than a modicum of effort as far as presenting beyond his naturally gifted appearance is concerned. Fair enough, he doesn't particularly need it, because once he flashes you that pretty smile with all those teeth you are reminded of precisely that fact.

"Welcome to the party," he says, looking smug for reasons you have not yet discovered. Often, there is no reason—a man who moves through life appreciative of the ample hand he has been dealt. "Juyeon is working. What a drag. Looks like I'm going to be your problem for the majority of the night."

"I would expect nothing less, but what makes you think Juyeon will be yours once his time frees up?" you ask with a playful nudge.

Jaehyun hums pensively for only a second. "I guess you're right, I should let the love birds enjoy the rest of their time together, given the ticking clock. Fine, you win, but I'm going to have my fun before the night is through."

Your eyes narrow. "I don't think I like the sound of that."

"Trust me, I know what I'm doing. I have years of Juyeon-related expertise under my belt and I don't trust either of you to get this thing moving along to seal the deal in time. We're already past the two week mark… and nothing!?"

With your cup in hand, you bring it up to your lips to take a sip and opt out of looking at Jaehyun after that. Instead, you stare ahead in silence and do not correct his assumption. Besides, he isn't terribly wrong in his diagnostics of all of this, and perhaps it might be in your best interest to see exactly what he seems to have hidden up his sleeve.

But his eyes remain fixed on you, and after a short amount of silence he says, "Ah, so something, but not nearly enough. Got it. I'm on the case."

"You really think I need your help getting laid?" you ask, though it's more of a rhetorical question that will almost definitely receive an annoyingly serious response. "Might I remind you that things between Juyeon and I were going swimmingly before your madness ever joined the fray."

"Whoa, who said anything about getting laid?" Jaehyun feigns his being offended dramatically—over the top like much of his other actions. "But unfortunately for you, you've given away your hand! That means that I'm right and something has happened… but again, not enough. This is annoying because I think you and Juyeon are quite similar in this aspect, though this does work in my favor as far as entertainment is concerned…"

"Again, I don't like the sound of that."

"You're not going to make a move even though you want to because for whatever reason, you want him to do it and you think if you let him take the lead then the timing will be just right. Juyeon won't do it because you're right—he does want the timing to be just right—unfortunately, time isn't something that the two of you have the luxury of lingering in, so somebody is going to have to throw all caution to the wind and just go for it, man."

You take another sip in irritated silence, because unfortunately, Jaehyun's assessment of the circumstances you have landed yourself in are more or less correct. It's bothersome to give him that satisfaction, and thus, you take the only out that you can attempt to fashion yourself in time.

"Maybe it's not the end of the world if it just doesn't happen," you say. The words come out of your mouth convincingly enough, but you don't even believe them entirely yourself. "It can just be whatever it ends up being and then it'll end, and maybe we can both just wonder what could have been as a fond memory."

Jaehyun makes some incomprehensible sound of disbelief and then says, "It won't be a fond memory! Where's the hopeful, romanticized longing!? You two make me sick. This is so annoying. I have to act fast."

"You are annoying."

He flashes you a knowing look. "If you think I'm annoying now, you haven't seen anything yet."

As the hours carry on by and the majority of the attendees file themselves back up to their rooms to call it a night, Jaehyun and yourself continue to be enamored with what remains of the party as it sadly winds down. Three games of billiards down and slumping down into the two-seater couch just nearby, you huff out an exhausted sigh and then grimace at the feeling of Jaehyun sloppily matching the act; nearly landing himself on rather than beside you.

You're a bit intoxicated, but filled with unbridled joy as a side effect of it. Glancing to your side, you look at Jaehyun with long limbs draped over you and the side of the couch and wonder if he plans on trying to pass out here. You're happy you've met him—he's a good friend, both to you and to Juyeon—and as tiresome as he can be, he is yet another person that will leave a long-lasting impression on you as a result of this trip. There is a hope to keep in touch once you head back home and maybe even meet someday again. Everything feels possible right now, nothing can bring you down.

A shadow is cast over you then, and looking up to find what has caused it brings the brightest smile to your face.

"Is he going to make it?" Juyeon asks with a slight smirk.

"No idea, he might live here now."

A brief wash of silence falls between the two of you after that.

Juyeon's eyes survey the scene a bit, and after he seems to have successfully taken it all in he says, "You two look good together, I'm happy for you, glad that you met."

You could swear you sober up in a flash, but beyond that, you feel Jaehyun's head gently rustling to attention.

He finds the remaining strength left inside of him and drags himself to a seated position. Though he is still sort of a mess and has somehow lost a button from his shirt, Jaehyun stirs and becomes upright once more. The two of you exchange the smallest of looks, and you really wish there was an easier way to tell him to get whatever crazy idea he has in his head, out of it.

Unfortunately for you, the only way for him to do that is by saying it.

"Yeah dude, it's been fun. We're having a great time together. I finally have someone as unemployed as I am to drag around with me to all the things I want to do, and I mean, sure, we slept together once, but we both had a lot to drink so it doesn't really mean anything! Really, we're just friends!"

Your head snaps to look at him, but his eyes are closed and his head is lazily dangling to the side as if barely hanging on to his neck. Naturally, there is the slightest hint of a smile sitting on his lips. You wonder if Juyeon can see it.

You have to look at Juyeon now.

So, you do. Slowly, carefully, unsure of what it is that you are going to find looking back at you. Your head turns back towards him with an expression that you can only imagine is some mixture of confused, awkward and utterly pained.

Trust the process, I guess, you think to yourself.

When you find Juyeon once again, you are anticipating the worst. You don't think he'll be angry, or violent, or even really sad—and because of that, you have no concept of what might be waiting. He stands in front of you with his arms crossed lazily, his head slightly cocked to the side as if inquisitive about what he has just heard, and what you can only describe as something of a devilish grin etched at his mouth.

By all accounts, it doesn't make any sense. Why does he—out of all emotional options—appear amused by this?

"I have to finish up some stuff for work, but I'll be back soon," Juyeon says, calm as ever. "Make sure he doesn't throw up on anything, okay?"

"I never throw up!" Jaehyun interjects.

You nudge Jaehyun in hopes he catches the hint that his words are no longer needed tonight and with your eyes still fixated on Juyeon you say, "Yeah, I will. I'll wait for you to get back."

With a nod, Juyeon heads back to his responsibilities, and as you take what feels like the first breath in nearly five minutes, you realize you no longer seem to know what the fuck is going on.

A little wobbly and a lot concerned for your increasingly likely hangover tomorrow, your finger jams into the elevator button and you wait until your ride arrives.

Jaehyun is left on the couch, asleep by the time you head back up. He is in good enough hands with being here and it's likely that the management will take pity on him and let him stay safely rather than trying to usher him out onto the street. Juyeon will make sure his friend is taken care of regardless of the problems he has caused—and that reminds you of the problems that he has caused.

You're not in the best headspace for recollecting much of anything with incredible accuracy, but the look on Juyeon's face after Jaehyun's lie is a memory that is carved into your mind. It's so bizarre in ways that you aren't quite capable of fathoming; be it because of the alcohol or just the fact that Juyeon is a little beyond your comprehension even on the best of days. His reactions to things are often muted, his feelings grand and exuberant yet held closely to his own heart. A man who is such a fascinating concoction of things that only thread together when you have enough context about the person to dig deep enough and make sense of it all.

"Can I walk you up?"

Standing beside you with hands shoved into his pockets and nothing more than a black tank top strapped to his torso; you know your reaction to the display betrays your desire to remain as calm and collected as he so often is. It's too late for that, however. You've reacted with what you can only imagine to be some sentiment of surprise and now you pray that he takes it as surprise stemming from his sudden arrival, not from the amount of flesh exhibited.

"Yeah, of course."

The elevator arrives, the two of you step inside, and suddenly the width of the box feels far more stifling than you ever remember it being.

"Looks like you had fun tonight," Juyeon says, glancing towards you. There's a cheekiness to his tone that you've grown quite familiar with—the voice he leads with when he says one thing but ultimately means another—and you don't think you need to ask where that is coming from. "You and Jaehyun were knocking drinks back for a while there."

"He's the kind of guy that when you get around him, the fun comes sort of effortlessly. Next thing you know, you're four rounds down and might have to call into work the next day. Probably a good thing I don't live here, after all."

"Jaehyun hasn't been coming out to stuff all that often for a while now, I think you heard it mentioned before, so it's nice to see him around again." Staring ahead at the door of the elevator, Juyeon seems lost in the intricacy of his thoughts regarding the matter for just a moment and then says, "Some work stuff, some love life stuff… You know how it goes. It's about time he starts leaving the house again."

"Hard to imagine him in the throes of extreme turmoil, but I guess it happens to the best of us."

The elevator stops at your floor and the doors slide open, after which Juyeon looks at you again and motions for you to step out ahead of him.

As much as you try to ignore it, once you reach that same place with this same person, the only thoughts that flood your mind are those of what had happened the last time the both of you were here together.

But neither of you speak—not since the last comment in regards to Jaehyun. The walk down the hallway was a silent one and now that you're here, the mounting anticipation of what might come next pricks and tingles at your skin. Looking Juyeon in the eye is difficult; his gaze is a heavy one and the confidence he wears is even more weighty than that. There is nothing to be frightened of, yet your senses feel as though they are lingering on the precipice of a fight-or-flight response. Waiting for the next move from the predator towards its prey.

"Well, I guess I'm here," you say, quiet and small.

"Do you want me to bring you up some water? I'm afraid you might be in for a bit of a rough night."

"I'm okay, there's water in the room. You know, bathroom faucet and all."

"Sure, but I could bring you the good stuff. Cheap bottled water from the kitchen," Juyeon insists with a hint of jest.

Still avoiding his eyes, you finally give up and decide that he is deserving of your full attention given how kind he is being. Really, there is no reason that he wouldn't be deserving of it, and the truth of the matter is just that you are scared.

"Thanks, but seriously, I'm okay." You look at him, standing there in front of you with his slightly hunched posture and frustratingly broad shoulders. "I think if anyone needs that water, it's the guy passed out on the couch in the lobby."

"He'll be dealt with, don't worry about that. Hardly the first night I've had to scrape him off of something with a spatula after a long night out. Say…"

And there it is. Right away, you feel the shift in the air, the tension rising between you as Juyeon's voice drops lower, quieter; his body inching towards your own. This time, however, you are not sandwiched between him and the door to your room, but instead forced to remain upright in the hallway as he dips his face down just beside your own. He does not make contact with you in any physical sense, but you can smell the faint scent of a long night of work and maybe a couple of sneaked drinks when management wasn't looking. Still clinging to him after so many hours.

You swear you could count the seconds that hang there, and simultaneously, it feels as though the whole world stops. With Juyeon's lips only mere inches away from your ear, his face turns just enough to maintain the distance necessary not to touch, yet the result of him doing so is you silently begging him to do just that very thing.

"Is that stuff about you and Jaehyun true?"

God. His voice is heavenly. Deep and sultry, quiet yet demanding but sinisterly playful in the delivery of the question. It requires all of the strength left in your weary bones to not crumble at his feet. Your resolve dwindles in swift fashion once more, but the thing that jumps to mind is—for better or for worse—Jaehyun's words.

Not angry, not jealous… but competitive.

You pull back and create enough space between the two of you so that you can look him in the eye, only now your faces are so close together that focusing is an impossibility. Juyeon's mouth sits in such close proximity to your own that you can feel the wash of warmth from his breaths across your face. You want to give in, you want to give up the ruse.

But also, you don't.

"Who's to say?" you answer, matching his previous coyness and perhaps even surpassing it. "I don't kiss and tell, it's unbecoming."

"Is that so?"

"It is. Suppose you'll just have to come to your own conclusions. Based on what you know, of course."

Juyeon does not respond to that, though you can easily see the twist of a grin into his lips. The moments tick by, your heart races inside of your chest and adrenaline courses hot through your veins. You hope you're selling it. Maybe you are. Then again, maybe it doesn't matter one way or another.

His lips capture yours in a split second and without so much as a second thought your hands come up to tightly grip at the fabric of his thin shirt. At a glance, Juyeon may appear thin and wiry but beneath your fingers lies the minute dips and valleys of muscle definition hidden below. You pull him closer to you, this kiss far more needy and urgent than the experimental one before. The hunger that has been quietly growing inside of him now desperate to emerge. Clawing its way out with every nip of teeth at your bottom lip and firm grasp of your body into his hands.

Then, in a stroke of genius, you find the will to pry yourself away.

You dig out your keycard and try to be as nonchalant about it as you can muster, though you don't exactly trust yourself to be doing a good job. It doesn't matter because the job has been done—Juyeon is right where you want him, and frankly, the same can be said for the other way around.

"You just might have to work a little bit harder to keep my attention, that's all," you say, slipping the key into the slot.

And as the door to your room opens, another one of those knowing, sinful smiles forms onto Juyeon's lips.

You wake up late. The blinds are open and the appalling brightness of the sun pours in. Your head is pounding—as you thought it might—and worse than all of this: Your phone is making sounds.

Doing your best to ignore the thud inside of your skull, you slowly maneuver to your side and reach towards the small table where your phone is placed. There is a stream of notifications awaiting you, but sitting at the top is a message from Jaehyun.

CME DOWN NOW.

COME*

Many others sit above those, but you don't bother with them. How he is so spry given the night shared is beyond your comprehension, and though you would love nothing more than to waste the day in bed tending to your hurt everything, you muster up the strength to roll out of it and begin the arduous mission of collecting yourself for the day.

You realize you don't know if Juyeon is working this morning, but you certainly hope that he is.

"Good morning, sunshine!"

Leaping towards you, Jaehyun is quick to greet you right as the elevator doors open with a big smile and looking far too put together in comparison to yourself. Thankfully, your headache has at least begun to wane, because you are not sure how capable you would be in dealing with his exuberance otherwise.

His arm slings over your shoulder and around your neck like he often does, drags your faces together closely and whispers, "Did you tell him the truth?"

"No, not yet."

"Good," he says with a wider, more evil smile, "Neither have I."

"I think he knows we're fucking with him, he seemed only mildly perplexed by the whole thing last night."

"Yeah, I know that! He doesn't believe it but he hates the fact that it most definitely could be true. That's what's going to drive him crazy."

"So I've noticed…" you reply quietly.

Jaehyun's eyes widen at that, new and exciting information now having been dropped into his ever-curious lap. "Oh? Already reaping the benefits then, are you?" He chuckles under his breath like a cartoon villain, looking towards the desk just ahead and says, "All according to plan. Let's go."

You are dragged. Not that you have much will to fight against it, but Jaehyun is increasingly amused by the entanglement that has blossomed between the three of you in what you surmise could only be born from boredom. You recall Juyeon's brief commentary about the demons he had been battling not long before now, and looking over to see the huge grin plastered across his face, all you can think is that there is some kind of joy sparked within from seeing him on the other side of it.

Healing is always a journey, and oftentimes it comes in one step forward and then two steps back. With Jaehyun, you never see the two, and you're happy to be a part of making the one stride ahead just that much stronger than it might have been before.

Together, the two of you reach the desk and Jaehyun takes a moment just before to link your arms together at the elbow in a ridiculous, feigned expression of alleged romantic display. He folds himself over top with ease given his height and forces his way as close to Juyeon as he possibly can—a man idly tending to his morning computer work.

"It's coffee time now," Jaehyun declares.

Juyeon does not look up. "I'm working," he says.

Pouting, Jaehyun only slightly retreats but does not fully give up. "Everybody is hungover and there is nothing for you to do. Come have a coffee with us. One coffee! Just stay behind the counter, you have to make it for us anyway."

A sigh is exhaled, followed by a slow, already exhausted blink from Juyeon as he finally gives his attention to the friend that is undeniably demanding of it.

"One coffee, but then you have to get out of here. Management is quickly growing tired of my friends loitering around."

Victory! You are also pleased by this development, though you make it a point to not show your delight even half as much as Jaehyun is. He finally pulls away from the counter and flashes you a smile like he knows he has won… and fair enough, because he has.

"If they were so bothered by my being here then why did they let me have a room for free last night!?"

Standing, Juyeon shakes his head. "You did not stay for free, I paid for it. Now, tell me what you want to drink before we all end up as unemployed as you are."

Half a cup of coffee down and the remainder of your headache finally begins to say its goodbyes. Juyeon rests leaned against the bar top and Jaehyun resides next to you, now on his second cup without being forced from the building.

The majority of the conversation between the three of you involves the minute details of the evening prior that someone may have missed. Jaehyun losing a button to his shirt, you winning a beer drinking contest with one of the men stationed up at darts, and Juyeon doing his best to try and wrangle an ever growing pile of trash near the back door so as to not result in something of a fire hazard.

All-in-all, a pretty good night.

But when the conversation begins to die down, you feel the gentle shift of Jaehyun's body from beside you. He inches nearer, the hand closest to you settling awkwardly atop his thigh as if that is not the place where it truly wants to be. From the corner of your eye, you keep watch of him, but most of all; your attention is fitted strongly on Juyeon.

He seems to notice it just as much as you do, because you watch his gaze dip down to a place beneath the bar that is blind to him. Whether it had been the intention all along or a last ditch effort to make a better choice, eventually, Jaehyun's hand slips over and wraps gently around your wrist. A bizarre display of what you can only guess is meant to show affection, though it hardly reminds you of such, at all.

Not exactly selling the idea he is meant to be peddling to the guy across the way.

"Anyway," he begins, "Not sure why you set me up in a whole different room. Could have just sent me up to hers. We could have shared, we're friendly enough."

That last bit of the sentence carries a particular edge to it that is clear in what it is meant to be implying, and at the very least, he's better at working the angle verbally than he is physically. You are amused by the fact that Jaehyun isn't willing to fully commit to the bit because he isn't so sure of where you stand on it and doesn't want to cross any lines that he potentially can't come back from. It's sort of charming, you appreciate the sentiment, and rather than saying anything yourself you await Juyeon's response.

"Her room is a single," he says.

"Yeah, that's fine." Jaehyun glances over to you. "We're close."

You can't help the grimace that develops on your face.

Most interesting to you in all of this, however, is Juyeon's reaction to it. Rather, his lack of reaction. He does not move, and rather than surveying you for a response, he remains glued to Jaehyun instead. For what feels like forever, none of you speak and a heavy wash of silence passes through the otherwise empty space that the three of you are holding. That is, until finally Juyeon closes his eyes and turns to look at you.

"Come to dinner with me tonight," he says, and you're not sure you've ever heard him be so firm and resolute in expressing interest in your accompaniment. "Somewhere nice after work. A date. My treat."

And for once, Jaehyun has nothing to say in response. You figure it's because the outcome is precisely the one that he has been working on manufacturing. Both of their eyes sit on you now as they await an answer, and with a deep, affirming inhale you smile and say, "Okay. I'd really like that."

He turns back to Jaehyun. "Nothing? No witty quip loaded in the barrel this time?"

"What? No." Jaehyun reels at that like it's the most absurd thing he has ever heard, then moves to slide off of his seat and begins to gather his small amount of belongings to leave. "This is good," he says, motioning between yourself and Juyeon with his hand. "You guys should probably talk about it privately, after all. It's got nothing to do with me…" He grabs his phone, shoves it into his pocket and begins to walk away, but not without adding the incredibly unnecessary context of, "If you know what I mean."

Quickly, you grab a napkin, crumple it up and throw it straight at his head. "Yes! We know what you mean!"

"Don't make a mess!" he yells through his departure, "Tall-and-Scary is the one that's got to clean it up!"

Good riddance, you think, but also: He will be missed dearly.

Seated in the dim, warm lighting of a restaurant that buzzes with the murmurs of other patrons, you do your best not to stare.

Ahead of you is Juyeon, and he looks similar to the way he did the night the two of you went out to that party—the time you asked him to put some effort into his appearance. As it would turn out, you'd soon regret having insisted upon it at all, because dealing with the consequences of your actions is proving rather difficult as far as perceived nonchalance is concerned.

Instead, you take in the sights around you. Nicely dressed people and a hint of quiet luxury exudes from the decor of the establishment that does not feel especially haughty or uncomfortably high-brow. It is a comfortable amount of nice that makes you feel welcomed, and with no mounting worries that the two of you may be eventually found out for not belonging here.

But Juyeon is an entirely unignorable force, regardless of how much you may try. You can feel his eyes glued to you; watching you, taking in the sight of you as you pretend as though you do not notice it. For him, it would seem, you are the only person in this room. An impossible standard for you to live up to, but suppose you do not have to make him believe that you can for much longer now, anyway.

Your eyes drop down to the little candle in the center of the table as it flickers, cradled by beautiful, decorative glass. Nearby, Juyeon's shimmering cocktail wrapped in crystal sits idly held inside of his hand.

"Have you been here before?" you ask, attempting to quell the discomfort of being in way over your head.

"Once, a long time ago for a friend's birthday. I like it, but it's not really the sort of place that you go to alone."

"You could bring Jaehyun."

"Or that you bring Jaehyun to."

Chuckling a bit, you nod in acceptance of that. "Fair enough," you say, "but can I be honest with you?"

"Of course."

You consider your words carefully before speaking, but still the thought insists upon itself. There is a careful line to walk in what you wish to convey, and do not want to ruin the night before it has even really begun.

"You say things like that and it always feels a bit like… there's this air of it being difficult for you. Dating, I mean. Like you have a hard time in that realm and I just…" You pause to reconsider, but ultimately choose to continue on. "I have a hard time believing that, you know? Surely it just isn't that hard for you to meet girls. It's a little ridiculous to even pretend that it is."

He smiles, just short of a laugh from what you can tell and says, "Why do you say that?"

"Look at you."

At the very least, Juyeon does not waste time lingering on the obvious implications of that and moves past it completely—something that you appreciate.

"No, I don't have a hard time meeting women," he confirms, bringing the glass to his lips for a sip. "I meet a lot of women. I met you."

"Is that some bizarre way of implying that I'm special?" you playfully retort.

"You don't want to hear that I might think you are, even if I do. You want me to tell you that none of this really means anything because that's easier than the alternative, so maybe it's best if we bypass that discussion entirely." His gaze does not leave you for even a moment as he says it, and placing his drink back down onto the table, you immediately find that the hand once holding it now sits alarmingly close to your own. "Yes, I meet—and go out with—my fair share of women. That doesn't mean that the circumstances surrounding them all are identical, though."

His hand flips over slowly to show his palm. You look down at it, then up towards Juyeon again, and the face he gives is one that can really only mean one thing.

Silent insistence.

That is, until he gives up on the silent part. "Come on," he says in a whisper, paired with the adamant waggle of his fingers. "Come onnn…"

"Oh my god!" You huff, resign yourself to this happening, and place your hand into his.

"See? Not so bad."

"Of course it's not so bad! But you're so…"

"Charming, endearing, agreeable…"

"Disarming."

"Right," he says with a nod, "but you are interested."

"I think you're interesting," you correct, though it remains partially obscured by a lie.

The hand beneath yours begins to wrap loosely, then shifts into a different position so that your fingers can intertwine. As they fit so snugly together, your breath hitches; this is a new, previously unexplored and completely innocent display of intimacy now shared between the two of you, and that knowledge seems to light something fierce and burning deep inside.

By the second, Juyeon is carefully pulling you apart piece by piece. He has been since the beginning; diligently working to unravel you and dismantle the wall that harbored your heart from the moment you set foot in front of him. You thought you knew this—thought you had the situation under control and could see it for precisely what it always was—but now you are forced to face the truth laid out on display.

And worst of all is the fact that his intentions are good. Behind his motivations is nothing wicked or rotten. All this time, Juyeon has gently worked towards a goal that benefits the both of you. On your own time, with your comfort and pain and history in mind.

How do either of you walk away from this with your hearts intact?

Leaning forward, Juyeon looks at you with those narrow, darkened, sultry eyes and in that tempting, low voice he says, "I want you to come back to my place tonight."

This time you don't even try to put up a fight.

The building Juyeon's apartment resides in is small, quaint and a little run down compared to some of the newer architecture popping up in the area. It makes sense, given what you think to know about him; a man who is not caught up in the need for material things or lavish displays of wealth that he does not have. A modest person with modest belongings who experiences life rather than trying to show it with physical items.

For the first time, however, the tables have been turned. The two of you stop outside of a door that is not to your own accommodation, and as Juyeon digs into his pocket for his keys, you do your best to simmer the anticipation that has been building inside of you since dinner.

"Is it what you were expecting?" he asks, briefly glancing towards you.

A fascinating question that offers some unexpected insight into his mind.

"Why? You don't strike me as the kind of man who's insecure about his lack of affluence. You work at a hostel. I didn't exactly think you were living in the lap of luxury."

He snorts out a laugh. "Sure, but I clean up pretty nice, don't I?"

Caught off guard, your breath stutters and is stolen from you as Juyeon cranes down and captures your lips. Your back hits the wall just beside the door—caged in by long arms and a broad chest much like the first time—but unlike the first kiss shared, Juyeon makes no effort to reserve the hunger that seems to have been amassing within him throughout these few weeks.

Between nips of his teeth at your bottom lips and careful glides of his tongue against yours, he drinks down every exhale, every gasp of air that you are desperate to take but almost never enters your lungs. Juyeon wants it all; your breath, your taste, your touch, all of it. Now, you've reached a point where you are happy to give it to him.

"Is it true?" he whispers against your lips between kisses, but you are too drunk on the moment to make sense of what is being asked. "Tell me the truth, I have to know."

Ah.

Rather than answering immediately, your hands find his waist and slither upwards to the front of him to curl your fingers into the fabric there. Juyeon kisses you again, only this time you can hear the growl that your touch elicits in the back of his throat.

"Jealous?" you tease, "Maybe it is, then what?"

"Then I might have to do something about that." Warm lips begin their journey down from yours and along the curve of your jaw. "I'm not jealous, but—"

"Competitive."

Keeping up this ruse of strength is proving difficult the more that Juyeon touches you. His mouth presses firm into the column of your neck, your fingers clutch harder into his shirt, desperate to pull him closer against your body. He does not give you everything that you so clearly are desiring of him and maintains the small amount of distance that still remains, and that awareness of the power that he holds only serves to drive you just that much more wild.

The feeling of his lips curling into a smile against your neck sends a shiver down your spine and he says, "So, you talked about me."

"You came up on occasion."

And just like that, the overwhelming existence of him is gone once again.

Dizzied by what has taken place only moments ago, it takes you a few seconds to return to your senses and find Juyeon once again toying with the lock to his apartment. The door makes a clicking sort of sound and cracks itself open, followed by Juyeon ushering you towards it with an open, inviting hand.

"Well then, after you."

Perched up in the kitchen and leaving Juyeon to tend to the wine, you take this as an opportunity to see him for the things he does not speak of.

The apartment is small—as you suspected it to be—but it is full of bookshelves, plants and small trinkets that give life to the space without feeling cluttered. It is quite the opposite, in fact; everything has a home and an incredible attention to detail has been given to ensure that. Juyeon cares for all of the things around him, be it people, places or objects, and the place that he calls home is further evidence of that.

"I like your apartment," you offer without prompting, "It's cozy."

"Thanks, it's been a long work in progress but it's coming along nicely."

"Older buildings are nice, they have a personality to them that newer ones don't. Almost like you can feel the remnants of the lives that were here before you."

Juyeon looks back towards you as he pulls a bottle of wine down from a high cupboard and gives a small smile. "Yeah, I agree. That's one of the reasons I chose this place. I had options, but… Something about this one spoke to me, I suppose."

"Then you have a good eye."

"Can you grab the glasses? They're up there right in front of you."

Without a word, you turn around and reach up towards the place that he has gestured. It's a bit high up for your reach, and extending on your toes, you do your best to do as is asked of you.

However, before your hand has the opportunity to find that which it is seeking, you are once again enveloped in this grasp of the man who has set you up to be in such a predicament.

Juyeon's arms wrap around you from behind—the firmness of his chest flush against your back—and you have no other option than to immediately surrender to him.

He holds onto you tightly with his chin set atop your shoulder and the light wash of his breath exhaled against your ear. A hand slips down; beneath your shirt and settles against the skin of your stomach to gently hold you against him just that much more. The feeling of him so close is completely intoxicating despite how little has actually transpired, and you are thankful for the assistance the countertop gives considering the rate in which the strength threatens to leave your knees.

"Can I be honest with you about something?" he says then with a teasing wickedness laced through his tone.

"Please do."

"I've thought a lot about you being here one day… what that might be like." Juyeon pauses his words, but the hand on your flesh slowly begins to make its way upwards. Your breath catches in your throat with anticipation and want, but also a desperation to keep yourself together. His other hand holds tightly at your hip, holds you against his own, and he finishes the thought to say, "What we might do."

Hardly capable of engaging in thoughtful conversation at this point, the best you can manage is a simple reply of, "Is that so?"

Pressing you further against the counter, Juyeon's lips find your ear, as do his fingertips begin to lightly graze the flesh of your chest.

"You're driving me crazy," he says against your ear, voice heavy and rumbling with want. "I need to know." His hips pin against you harder then, tips of his fingers delicately teasing at the most sensitive skin and easily prying a shudder from your body. "I need to know if you fucked Jaehyun."

And as much as you have enjoyed the playful push-and-pull of this mindgame, you no longer have the strength to continue the scheme. You give up, fully relenting to his touch as your head falls back against him and the tautness of your muscles dissipates.

"Of course I didn't," you say, "It's only ever been you, no matter how much I've tried to fight that."

The switch is flipped with the information you have given him, and the hand once under your shirt slips back out—up to gently grip your chin and pull your face towards him enough so that your lips can meet. Juyeon's need to taste you in that moment is carnal; a messy, awkward display of immediate desire that cannot be satiated any other way than to take. You are already locked in place between himself and the kitchen counter with no place else that you would rather be, and just when the craning of your neck begins to ache in discomfort, Juyeon releases you, ever so slightly juts your hips towards him, and bends you in half at the edge with his chest still securely holding you in place.

"Saying things like that is only going to drive me crazier, you know."

"Maybe that's exactly what I've been aiming for all this time."

Adrenaline courses through your veins with every additional touch that Juyeon leaves on your body. Your heart thuds loud and quick inside of your chest, anticipating whatever is soon to come next. The feeling of strong, agile fingers tugging at the button of your pants follows; gripping into the waist, slowly sliding them down to the knees as if all of the immediacy of his craving has fleetingly left him in favor of savoring the moment of doing so. Your undergarments are left in place, however, and you curse yourself for how much more it intoxicates you with arousal.

Situated back into place, Juyeon's hand comes back around to the front of you, slips down between your legs, and drags his fingers through the result of his impeccable work.

Like so many other instances, your breath leaves your lungs because of his touch. Juyeon touches you with the kind of careful expertise that is precisely what you had expected from him—only somehow, it's even better.

His fingers are thick and the evidence of that is clear in the initial press inside. Your fingers beg for something to clutch onto but find nothing more than the smooth finish of the countertop you are folded against. As he meticulously works at you, Juyeon peppers his lips against all of you that he can reach; your shoulders, back and ear if he extends himself enough—but more than all of that is the distractingly overwhelming feeling of his free hand working at the front of his own slacks.

Digging your hips down against his hand, Juyeon groans at the feeling of your body betraying you so expressly.

"Trying to drive me crazy is a little evil, don't you think?" Juyeon says, and just as the words leave his mouth do you feel the smooth, blunt nudge of him slipping between your thighs. "We've been on the same page all this time. If you want something from me, all you have to do is ask."

"Isn't it more fun this way? And besides, I would never ask."

Juyeon's breath is hot at the back of your neck, the hand fitted between your legs leaves you save for holding your panties at bay and instead is replaced with the firm, slow beginnings of his initial drive inside of you.

"I think I could get you to ask," he reasons, a mischievous sort of venom dripping from his tone. "Maybe even beg a little, who knows."

His voice paired with the stretch of him inching himself inside sends a shiver down your spine. The air once held in your lungs is quickly forced out despite his delicateness in handling your body, and along with it is the well-earned and drawn out groan of feeling the immenseness in which he fills you.

"You get vicious," you whimper, "What happened to that nice, demure guy I used to know?"

"Don't worry, I'm going to give you everything you want."

Sliding his hands back into place at your hips, Juyeon remains in place with his chest against your back as if he craves the feeling of your body hard against his. Once shallow, slow drives quickly settle into something more rhythmic and deliberate as the both of you become familiar with what is being shared. Small groans and hitched, short breaths fall from his mouth in succession and pool just that much more in your mounting arousal. Firm and strong but delicate and attentive to your body and the way that he handles you; the perfect mixture of a confident, capable man with something to prove to you. To prove that this is worth it, that he is worth it… and that you're in good hands now that you have decided to give yourself over to him.

"Fuck," you whine, the top half of you pooled and splayed over the counter carelessly, "Why did we wait so long to do this?"

The following snaps of Juyeon's hips are harder, quicker and more punctuated than the previous ones before. A strong, firm hand glides up your back to settle at the juncture between your neck and shoulder. Holding you in place for him, ensuring that your body can accept all that he has to give.

"You wanted to play games with my friend, remember? Toy around with me, have a giggle with Jaehyun." The fingers near your neck dig just a bit more tightly into the skin near there, and you all but melt to the touch. "Maybe you should have fucked him, the lost time might have been worth it then."

A moan rips from you with how he continues to unravel you around him, and with all of the might that you can muster you say, "Starting to think you wish I did."

You barely have a second to collect yourself as Juyeon tears himself from you; spins you to face him, wrestles one of your legs free from your pants and sets you atop the counter to glide inside once again.

Now, his mouth ravages yours. His desperation to taste you is insatiable and his deceptive strength easily makes you available to receive him. Every stroke feels sharper and more solid than the last. The idea of someone else's name falling from your mouth driving him to the brink of insanity even as he works you to the precipice of whining his.

Pulling away ever so slightly, Juyeon looks down to the place where your bodies meet with darkened eyes. When they travel back up the length of you, you're able to see the vague smudging of the make-up around his eyes, the narrowness that now harbors the animalistic craving typically deeply buried inside of him. It is all on display now as his hands hold you tightly to pull you onto him, and it's in that moment that your resolve swiftly begins to crumble.

The first letter of his name slips out from you, and it's enough to pique his attention as if it is the one, true goal in sight. His posture firms, hands tensing just that much more as he continues to work.

Then, he pushes himself forward to capture your mouth once again.

"Do you want me to beg for it?" he says against your lips. "Please, I want to hear you moan my name. I want to feel you come around me."

You wish that you were stronger in that moment, because the ease in which Juyeon gets exactly what he asks for is mortifying.

His name cascades from you like a breathless chant as you come completely undone at his beckoning. Juyeon holds you, kisses you, perfectly rides you through it as your body nearly aches with the tautness of your muscles screaming for release. the waves of euphoria wash over you repeatedly, almost as if there is no end in sight, and though you are reeling from the intensity of what he has ripped from you, at the very least, you are lucid enough to enjoy the sight of him reaching his end in similar, blissful fashion.

Though the both of you sit in the aftermath with heaving chests and breaths that never feel full enough, Juyeon still cannot resist the incessant need to have your lips pressed against his.

Then, you feel the suspicious curl of them into a smile.

"I don't wish you fucked my friend, what a strange thing to say."

Coy, you match his grin. "You sure seemed to like it."

"I think we've learned a lot about each other tonight." Juyeon pauses for a second to think and follows it up by saying, "And maybe ourselves, too."

You wrap your arms around his neck, ensuring that he cannot pull away.

"I want to stay the night."

As a result of that, Juyeon kisses you adoringly all over again.

"I wouldn't have it any other way."

With weary, sleep deprived coherence, you wake to the unwelcomed sound of dishes crashing in the sink.

For a moment, you don't recall where you are. Your surroundings are strange to you, the curtains keeping the sun at bay unfamiliar and the bed you're wrapped within confusingly soft. It is a rather slow realization that you are not at the hostel, and then, the memories of the night prior come flooding back to you.

It had been a fairly sleepless night, as the goings on from the kitchen continued on well into the following hours.

Your muscles vaguely ache in your thighs, back and shoulders, not accustomed to the rigorous activity you had been enthralled in. The feeling is welcomed, but what isn't, is the feeling of impending doom that quickly rushes to encapsulate your mind.

A shower fixes you temporarily, and dressed in the unpleasant clothing from yesterday, you exit the hallway and lay eyes on Juyeon.

His hair is messy and sticking up every which way as he continues his work in the kitchen. Now that you've entered the space, the scent of food and coffee engulfs your senses and for just a second, you don't have the strength to think about the tragedy that all of this entails.

A sight for sore eyes; mulling about in a tank top and sweatpants, busy with ensuring that the both of you are fed before beginning your day.

You should be happy, it should be a delightful scene—yet all it does is make you sad.

"What are we doing?" you ask suddenly, before Juyeon has even noticed you are there. He turns to set his eyes on you and quickly cycles through the feelings of surprise, adoration and then confusion.

"I think we're about to have breakfast?"

"That's not what I mean. You know that's not what I mean."

Juyeon's expression softens, a spatula still in hand, and all he says is, "Sit down, we can talk about it over food."

The two of you sit at the table in silence for an excruciating drawn out amount of time.

Only the scraping of utensils against plates and bowls cuts through the nothingness that hangs between you. Occasionally, your eyes drag upwards to take in the sight of him—commit it to memory because now it feels as though that's the only thing left for you to do. You had resigned yourself to this happening a long time ago, accepted it for precisely what it was going to be and thought yourself to have made peace with that. However, now that you're here and lingering in the aftermath of its finality, you feel anything but at peace.

Instead, you once again feel as though you are mourning the loss of yet another thing.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Finally, Juyeon addresses the dejected weight in the room.

"Are you not feeling…" You pause amidst the thought, unsure of how exactly to express yourself. "I don't know. Sad? About all of this? I mean, maybe I just had the wrong idea of what this might have meant…"

"You don't have the wrong idea," Juyeon says firmly, "but I'm not sad about it, either. For me, there's nothing to be sad about. Not yet, at least."

"Not yet?"

Setting his utensils down, Juyeon props an elbow into the table and leans his cheek against his palm to look at you. He looks so soft, so enamored and devoted. The way that he looks at you goes straight to your heart, and now more than ever, you don't quite know what to do with the way it makes your stomach sink.

"There's something here, is there not? It isn't just a temporary fling, though we certainly could make it one, but I think we would be doing both of us a disservice in that."

Blinking a few times, you continue staring at him. "What are you suggesting?"

"We can try long distance."

"Are you insane?"

Juyeon laughs at the abruptness of your response and just says, "Maybe."

Admittedly, you don't know what to do with the ease of his response. Again, the two of you sit in awkward silence until finally he seems to grow tired of it and makes a motion for his defense.

"Why not? Would you prefer the alternative?"

"No," you reply in a snap judgment, despite the fact that you have no clue of what you wish to follow that decision up with. You pry your eyes away from him, stare down at the half-eaten plate of food sitting in front of you, inhale deeply and find the strength to say, "Long distance relationships are hard. They never work, it never lasts. Seems a bit like just delaying the inevitable… Dragging this out. Hurting the people involved just that much more by the end."

"That's how most relationships—regardless of proximity—end, no? The majority of them end for one reason or another, so why not give it a shot if we both like each other? At least we won't always wonder what if; we'll know, we'll have done everything that we could, and we can walk away from it knowing that we tried."

He does not make it sound easy, but he does make it sound possible.

"I leave in three days," you say, finally looking at him again. "I can't give you an answer now, but I will before then. I need some time to think about this, but it would be nice to carry on together as if this isn't hanging over our heads."

Juyeon smiles and goes back to eating his food.

"Nothing will change, and you shouldn't make a decision without thinking about it thoroughly, anyway."

"Are you working today?"

With a mouth full of food, Juyeon hums in affirmation before he has the opportunity to speak. He says, "Yeah, I'll have to head out soon, but you're welcome to stay here if you want. There's a spare key hanging up by the door. The one with the little red keychain."

The smile that forms across your lips couldn't be fought away with all of your might.

"Already giving me a key to your place? Geez, you move fast."

"Hyunjae also has a key," Juyeon counters, introducing a teasing inflection in his friend's nickname. "Which I'm sure positively delights you to know."

Under the table, your foot gently finds Juyeon's calf to poke at playfully.

"You know, the more you bring it up, the more enticing it's starting to sound…"

Juyeon glances at you from the corner of his squinting, suspicious eyes. Only lightly perturbed by the implications you are giving.

"I know you said you wouldn't ask, but surely you can't keep using him to get what you want out of me." He drops a hand down beneath the table, finds your leg, and slowly smoothes his palm up the length of it. "Fifteen minutes before I need to go. How about a better start to your day?"

A much better start it ends up being, with Juyeon's name and taste still lingering on your tongue.

"Want to have a coffee with me?"

Mid-stride past the front counter, Juyeon chimes in with the inquiry before you have a chance to even wave him your goodbye.

So, you stop—turn back to look at him and make a mental note of the way he looks sitting there with paperwork strewn and a computer full of tasks that he has likely only begun cracking into. You imagine his job to be a relatively carefree one, though the demands of hospitality are often never so. It is a façade for the consumer to believe that everything is always going according to plan. Another thing that is often never so.

Juyeon never allows the stress to overcome him, though.

"You know, I was just headed out for exactly that," you say, and begin to make your way around the bend to be served by him. "Are you reading my mind now?"

Following from behind the desk, Juyeon passes a glance your way before grabbing a mug and tending to the machines.

"Maybe I am. Hope there isn't anything hiding in there that I shouldn't dare see."

"I'm sure there is, but that'll come in due time. Don't want to give everything away in only three weeks, you might grow tired of me."

"Doubtful," he insists, turning back to face you. "In fact, I look forward to finding out more."

"We don't know a whole lot about each other, now that you mention it. Isn't it kind of ridiculous that we've ended up in this situation?"

And to that question, Juyeon inches towards you, leans himself across the countertop, and chastely kisses you like so many times before.

"No," is his only verbal response to that.

The coffee finishes and he pours two mugs, then settles with his arms folded atop the waxed wood and a rather lazy, poor-postured lean.

"How was your day yesterday? After you left, that is."

"Uneventful in comparison," you admit. Then, you remember the key that still resides within your bag. You dig it out quickly, push it towards him and say, "Almost forgot to give this back to you."

"Keep it," Juyeon says with a gentle smile, almost as if he has been waiting for this to come to pass. "Never know when you might need it."

You scoff at such a ridiculous gesture. "I don't even live here, and besides, you should have a spare key!"

"I told you already, Jaehyun has one. No reason to keep a third."

Flustered, you find yourself becoming desperate to think of a reason to keep up this fight. Logically, you understand that your having a key will mean next to nothing in only two more days time, but emotionally, him gifting this to you feels like such a monumental feat that you are having difficulty finding the strength to bear.

"Well! What if you lock yourself out of your apartment!"

His hand comes up to smooth over yours—the one with the key still residing beneath it.

"Then having a spare key inside of the apartment I'm locked out of isn't going to be very helpful, is it?"

Defeated. Utterly defeated. Thus, you fall back to your last remaining line of defense: pouting.

At least he laughs—so effortlessly amused by you in ways you have never really come to understand. The chemistry between the two of you has, from the very beginning, always been a magical and sort of intangible thing that you realize neither of you truly comprehend. There have been no discussions about futures, or virtues, or what either of you hope to get out of life. Instead, the two of you coast on this whimsical ride that has not yet had to face the truth of what long term romance might mean for it. A whirlwind romance, often not meant to stand the test of time.

Yet, Juyeon wholeheartedly hopes to take on that battle.

And as the minutes pass the both of you by, you find yourself more and more willing to take it on, too.

"Do you…" Trailing off, you immediately reconsider the question yet are pushed forward by the thought of wanting to know more about him. More deeply, more intimately, more everything so long as he is willing to give it to you. Your eyes fall away from him, nervous about what it is you're about to say, but the adoring squeeze of his hand on yours gives you the capability to go forward. "Do you… want to get married?"

Juyeon's eyebrow perks upwards and before you have the chance to explain, he says, "Right now? But darling, I don't finish work for another six hours."

"That's not what I mean!" You wrestle your hand away from him in protest and say, "I mean in general!"

Laughing at your outburst, Juyeon cocks his head to the side inquisitively. "Sure, I wouldn't mind. I think I'm okay with either… marriage or not. What do you think?"

"The same… I think."

"You're insecure about how we don't know so much about each other," Juyeon says, crossing his arms over his chest. "But I do think you should consider the fact that our future may hold a whole lot of discussions through the days, so it might be worth it to save as much as we can for when that time comes."

"Quite the pragmatic thinker, aren't you?"

"One could say that, yes."

"Well, I'm off for the day. I have a million places I want to see now that my trip is coming to a close. Don't get too bored without me, would you?"

"I will be doing nothing but awaiting your return," Juyeon says, "and dealing with bookings. And probably trying to get the gum out from under the tables."

"Full day ahead of you then." An idea comes to you in that instant, and before you have the chance to talk yourself out of it, you lean yourself over the countertop much like him before, grip him by the front of his shirt, and drag him the rest of the way so your lips can connect.

The day before your inevitable and daunting departure finally comes.

Your heart is heavy, and for reasons that you cannot yet parse through, you cannot bear to see Juyeon. You linger in the stairwell near the elevator for so long that it becomes awkward with the amount of other guests that pass you by, but you are less bothered by them, and more by the need to not have to face him just yet.

So, you wait. You wait for there to be a time where Juyeon is forced to leave his station and head into the back room to tend to business there, and once he does, you make a dash towards the exit. All you can do is pray that he doesn't turn back to catch you in the act.

Nothing has changed, albeit your burning desire to stray from him might suggest otherwise to someone on the outside looking in. Truth be told, nothing has changed, and that is precisely the problem that you are now faced with: You cannot run from this any longer, and Juyeon will be expecting an answer in less than twenty-four hours.

He has been so gracious towards you, so incredibly patient and understanding and as you meander down the very same sidewalk that no longer feels like a foreign place, you question whether or not you would be capable of giving him the same if the tables were turned.

Could you handle him as delicately as he has, you?

Nothing has changed. The thought repeats in your mind as a maddening mantra that refuses to give you peace. Worst of all, perhaps, is the fact that you do not need to dissect the meaning behind it. Where it stems from is as clear as the direction it aims to take—only one thing remaining on your mind now that your time here ticks down to finality.

Avoiding Juyeon entirely is an impossibility you accept, and it is not one that you wish to fight, either. So, when you reenter the hostel lobby only a few minutes after three to find him sitting there, you don't bother kicking up a fuss about it.

"Hi," you say flatly, hand jutting forward to offer him a take-away cup. "Coffee."

"You know we have coffee here," he says, clearly amused by what you have brought him. "Like, endless supply."

"Not good coffee."

"Okay, ouch."

"Not your fault." You inhale deeply as if with something pertinent to say fighting to get out, but before you have the opportunity to figure out what that is, Juyeon cuts in with a thought of his own.

"Let's go to dinner again tonight. It doesn't have to be anything lavish, or a late night. I know you have an early flight to catch. Just something nice for the road."

You look at him in silence for a few seconds, and any resolve you might have had quickly melts away.

"Yeah, let's do that," you say with a small smile. "Though, you remember what happened the last time we got dinner together."

"Wasn't so bad now, was it?"

Eyes narrowing, you glare at him. "I didn't say it was, but I can't be out—or up—so late tonight, now can I?"

Juyeon leans towards you while still seated, only partly making an effort to ensure that his words cannot be heard by anyone nearby and says, "Bathroom, then. Understood."

"Why do I get the feeling you're only partially joking?"

He merely shrugs.

"I'm off in an hour and then we can go."

Humiliatingly, you are not nearly as put off by his suggestion as you otherwise might have hoped.

Once again, Juyeon sits opposite of you. This time, however, he is dressed down as you are typically used to seeing him. Another snapshot that you have no other option than to commit to memory.

The restaurant he has taken you to is far more casual than the one a few nights ago, but you are appreciative of his awareness as far as your time and well-being come the early morning is concerned. You want nothing more than to throw all caution to the wind and spend the rest of your hours together with him; laughing, talking, touching… but the flight is a long one, and even more than Juyeon's desire for your time is his intrinsic need to ensure that you are happy, healthy and comfortable so long as he is capable of seeing to it.

And beyond that, perhaps, is his hopeful ideation that there will be so many more nights in the future just like this one.

"I like this place," you say. "It's cozy—doesn't expect too much of me once I walk through the door."

Rather than responding, Juyeon places his hand onto the table with his palm upturned. It is a silent request from you, and you are happy to give what he is asking for.

Your hand sets atop it and his fingers gently curl around you.

"Do you want to ask me any more questions?"

That's right. You are forced to recall the embarrassment of questioning him in regards to his feelings on marriage. A bumbling inquiry that you would have been happier to forget, though the sly grin on Juyeon's face suggests that he has no intention of allowing you to do so.

But you do want to ask more questions, and as you sit there with the opening granted to you, a swirling of possibilities floods your mind. With so little already known, there is so much yet to uncover, but you are also paralyzed by choice; unable to pin any one thing down in a concrete enough manner to formulate it into a cohesive structure.

You cannot squander this opportunity, though, and in an attempt to recover something out of this you ultimately just throw out… something.

"Do you have any siblings?"

It's a topic that definitely falls under 'we could talk about this later while we're both bored at work,' but you are at the very least hopeful that it will grant you time to think of something far more creative for the future.

"A younger brother," he says. "Do you want to have kids?"

The question throws you through a loop, and it's only then that you recognize this door has been opened only because Juyeon has had intentions of investigating you. Additionally, you are unable to allow the banter to fall to the wayside and instead of answering earnestly, you say, "Not right this second. Is this how you're asking me if I want to go to the bathroom?"

Thankfully, he laughs. You watch Juyeon lean back into his chair as if he has been bested by his own tricks—which he has—and when he comes back around to re-engage in the conversation you feel that burning, bursting spark of something so special and dear blooming right in front of you.

"Suppose I deserve that."

"You do, but to answer your question… I don't know. I guess I don't have much of an answer for you." Watching him, he appears to accept this just as well as any other response, and so, you carry on with a question of your own again. "Do you like to travel?"

"Seems a bit like a leading question right about now, doesn't it?" He squeezes your hand lightly then says, "Considering the situation we have gotten ourselves into. But all of this aside, yes, I've traveled a lot and would like to do more of it. My job is far from glamorous but what it lacks in allure it makes up for in frivolousness. I'm not necessary. I can still live my life."

"I like to travel, too," you offer, "Though I haven't been able to do much of it in recent years. I guess that's why after everything I just got up and left. Trying to take the time back, or something."

"It always feels like there's an abundance of time until there isn't anymore. I figured that out early on, which is why I am the way I am about simply taking a chance."

It has been obvious for a while now. How the two of you are no longer discussing arbitrary abstracts with no bearing on your reality.

Juyeon's outlook on life is nothing short of magical, and you want nothing more than to be infected with it. The creeping enchantment of it all has been slowly making its way through you each and everyday, and you can't help but wonder: Will it find its mark in time?

You want to agree to this, you want to give in to it—and him.

"How do you avoid feeling as though a road you have taken ends up as lost time? When it doesn't work out… when the thing you had been hoping for never comes to fruition the way you might have wanted."

What follows is another calming squeeze to your hand.

Juyeon looks at you like you're the only person in the room, and really, you believe that to be his truth. No matter your inconsistencies in the beginning, your difficulties, your unwillingness to give it to this or the possibility of an inconducive transgression with the person he deems to be his best friend; the way that he looks at you has never truly wavered.

Now—right now—you want to say yes.

"It's sort of all about the journey, isn't it?" he reasons, and there's a whimsical airiness to his tone that alludes to him having long since mulled over this very same thing for himself in the past. "Besides, good choices, bad choices… They've all led me to the place I'm at now, and from where I'm sitting…"

He trails off for just a second to deliberately take in the sight of you—his very own snapshot for memory—and goes on to conclude, "There's nowhere else I'd rather be."

With your phone in one hand and luggage in the other, you head downstairs to the hostel lobby.

To say it is somber would be an understatement, and you wish nothing more than to be the kind of person that could appreciate the good so much more clearly than the bad. This trip has been everything you could have hoped for and then some, but the addition of and then some has now left you in the fog of stepping away from something that you never could have anticipated having to grapple with, at all.

You're going to have to be strong about it, and so, you muster up all of the strength you have as you make your way towards the front desk.

Of course, Juyeon is there waiting for you. The smiles exchanged are slight and carry the weight of all of this just behind them. Really, both of you are playing pretend now for the sake of the other, but worse than that; you have no idea what you could possibly say to him beyond the one thing he is waiting for.

An answer.

But you don't have it for him just yet, though you recognize you are quickly running out of time. You slide your keycard across the desk and watch as Juyeon carries out his tasks in silence. Endlessly patient. If you choose to walk away from this without giving him an answer, you know he will let you.

"You're all set," he says, but before you have the opportunity to reply, he turns around in his chair to face towards the back room and shouts, "I'm going, I'll be back in a couple hours."

Your mouth falls agape. "What?"

He turns back to look at you and stands to his feet, like all of this is the most obvious thing in the world. Like you should have expected it. Juyeon says, "You thought I was just going to send you off from here like that? Of course I'm going to the airport with you."

Crying right here, right now, would be incredibly ill-advised, and though you remind yourself of this fact, it does little to fend off the growing need to do so. Somehow, you swallow it down though your throat stings, and with a heavy heart, all you can say is, "Thank you."

This early in the morning, few other people grace the train with their presence.

Instead, the space is taken up by only Juyeon and yourself. For a long time, the ride is a quiet one—neither of you with much to say as a result of what is soon to transpire. It's so gloomy; the idle presence of him, the sounds of train tracks screeching and the quick passage of surroundings that you have grown so accustomed to. In only three weeks, this place has begun to feel like home. Now? You must leave it to face what still remains back from where you came. Pieces of you that are still left there and waiting to be gathered, picked up, glued into a shape that somewhat resembles what you recall of it.

What are you meant to say?

As you stare out of the window, you feel the tender nudge of Juyeon's hand against your own. It forces your attention back towards him, and as the two of you exchange a look, he slides his fingers in between yours.

"Are you going to miss it?" he asks.

You give a look that suggests it's the most ridiculous question in the world, but ultimately, all you reply with is a simple, "Of course I will."

"Well, you can always come back." There's a small inkling of a smirk pulling at his lips as if he believes himself to be wildly clever. "You have a key, after all."

"Yeah, suppose I do."

Juyeon sighs aloud, the heaviness of the mood rampant in that exhale. A tightened squeeze of your hand follows as if to remind you of the fact that he is still very much there. As if you were capable of ever forgetting.

"I used to think this train ride was so unbearably long," he muses, almost as if speaking to himself. "Now I feel like it can never be long enough."

"Sure, but we get to do that long, heartfelt airport goodbye like in the movies," you reason.

"That's true, I never got to do one of those before. First time for everything."

"A lot of firsts on this trip."

"Sure are."

The two of you fall back into silence after that, and once again, your eyes meander out towards scenery that rapidly slips away.

Upon your arrival, Juyeon demands that your baggage become his problem—a fitting gesture given the way he has already insisted on inserting himself into your life.

He is familiar with the airport, which is something you are thankful for. Your phone is in his hand and he navigates the two of you towards the security entrance you are meant to disappear through, but once you lay eyes upon it the sight feels nothing short of a deep stab to the heart.

Conversation has been light up until this point, and when the two of you stop in front of the winding maze, you look at one another as if everything has ultimately been leading up to this.

Suppose in so many ways, it has.

"Let me know when you get home?" Juyeon asks, and though the thought behind it is a kind one, it feels terribly heavy in your ears.

And as if never having heard the question, at all—never hearing it, acknowledging it, caring for it in any substantial way—you toss any response to that to the wayside and instead say, "I want to do it. I want to try."

Juyeon reels a little, clearly not expecting you to jump head-first into the weighty discussion still lingering to the side. "Oh," is the first thing he says, but he must immediately recognize how unfitting the reply is tonally and makes a quick effort to follow it up with a brighter, more pleased, "Oh!" He blinks a few times, evidently dumbfounded. "When did you decide?"

"Now," you say. "Just now."

Smiling wide, Juyeon takes you by the hand, pulls you closer and leans in for what feels like a finalizing kiss.

The weight of the world seems like it dissipates from your shoulders, though this is only one of many things that remain to be dealt with. Those are problems that can be solved, and you aren't looking forward to it. However, you may have a newfound excitement for whatever future now awaits.

You let out a sigh of relief and say, "I feel like this moment would be far more impactful if I could tell you that I loved you, or something." Squeezing his hand, you offer a shrug. "Isn't that usually how it goes in the movies?"

"Saying that could be much easier than agreeing to this. They're just words, a lot of people say them carelessly. I don't think jumping into this is something that can be said as easily."

"Don't remind me of how hard it's going to be, or I might change my mind."

An airy chuckle leaves Juyeon, and rather than a verbal response, he leans in and kisses you again. In ways that you cannot quite articulate, it's different from all the rest. Behind this kiss is a hopefulness, an adoration, an appreciation for your willingness to take on this journey with him. There is a feeling that whatever time apart that awaits the two of you will be fleeting, and at the end of the road—something that will have made it all worthwhile.

Slowly the two of you pull away. You take your baggage and phone back from him and turn to head on your way.

It's sad, but it could be sadder. You thank yourself for not allowing it to be.

"Tell Jaehyun I said bye," you add with a nonchalant wave. "And thanks, you kind of owe that guy a drink. He worked hard."

"Over my dead body," Juyeon says with an accompanying roll of his eyes. "I did not need his help!"

You flash him a final, knowing look—and just like that, you disappear into the crowd.

a/n: thank you for reading & i really hope you liked it 🩵 it would mean the world if you shared any kind thoughts with me & remember that you are loved 🩷 now........... hyunjae-centric fic next...?

#juyeon smut #juyeon x you #juyeon x reader #juyeon imagines #juyeon scenarios #tbz smut #tbz x reader #tbz fanfic #tbz imagines #tbz scenarios #the boyz smut #the boyz fanfic #the boyz imagines #the boyz imagine #the boyz scenarios #kpop smut #kpop fanfic #x reader #reader insert

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