#⋆˙⟡♡sophia writes

[hot-and-confused]

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hii i had the idea for this a few days ago and wanted to get it out there because i missed writing ! this will probably be a series ;) anywho i started writing this and basically blacked out, and i woke up and it was ten thousand words lmao

so yeah, dean x angel!reader

✮⋆˙ wc : 11.4k whew

✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･:･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･:･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･:･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧

one

she trudged through the crisp, white snow, leaving a crimson trail of blood in her wake. it saddened her, staining something so innately, immaculately pure, so agonizingly undefiled, but there was little she could do. bloody hands clutched her side, trying to slow her breathing to keep the pain from her wound at bay. badly damaged by the fall, her usually confident stride was replaced with heavy, labored footfalls, and her wings felt heavier than ever before.  

she had never been to earth before, as many of the other angels had. there was a heaviness that she could not place - an uncertain, unwieldy sort of intangible weight that seemed to plague her. a lingering sense of dread, of pain, of agony. it was quiet, for the first time in her life. there was no one praying to her, no one laughing or crying or even whispering. the silence was eerie, unsettling. it made her uneasy, tense, setting her on edge. 

the world around her seemed frozen in time, the silence broken only by the faint crunch of her steps in the snow. the forest loomed ahead, its skeletal branches reaching out like crooked fingers, cloaked in frost. she felt their judgment, their gnarled whispers scraping against her mind as though even the trees disapproved of her presence. she tightened her grip on her side, warmth pooling between her fingers, sticky and unforgiving, as though never to be washed away.

her wings dragged against the ground, leaving faint trails beside her bloodied footsteps. once radiant and pristine, they now bore the marks of her fall - feathers bent and darkened with scorch marks, dirt and blood clinging to them, a shameful reminder of her fall from grace.

in the distance, a faint glow caught her attention. it flickered, soft and golden, like a dying ember struggling to hold onto life. a part of her wanted to move toward it, to seek solace in its warmth, but another part hesitated. this world was foreign, alien. she had always imagined earth as beautiful, teeming with the vibrance and energy of humanity. but now, all she felt was its aching, devastating emptiness.

her breaths came in shallow gasps, her life-force flickering faintly. she glanced down at her hand, crimson staining her fingers as the wound on her side continued to seep. this body, this vessel, felt fragile, delicate - a stark contrast to the celestial strength she was accustomed to. every nerve was alight with pain, a sensation she had never truly understood until now. she had known of suffering, seen it in the lives of those she watched over, but to feel it? it was a revelation - raw and jarring.

the landscape around her stretched endlessly, blanketed in pristine snow that glimmered under the faint moonlight. the mortal world was hauntingly beautiful, yet there was a certain melancholy to it. the trees stood tall and bare, their branches clawing at the dark blue sky. a cold wind howled through the empty expanse, carrying with it a sense of desolation that burrowed deep into her.

she faltered for a moment, her vision swimming as the cold nipped at her skin, biting deeper than the blood that clung to her flesh. her breath was shallow, ragged, each inhalation a struggle, each exhale a plea she couldn't complete. the forest around her seemed to pulse with an energy she could not fathom - an unspoken sorrow, ancient and endless.

the world was still, but it was not peaceful. it was a stillness of despair, of an echoing silence that filled the vast emptiness between her breaths. every step she took seemed to sink her deeper into it, dragging her further away from the celestial light that once guided her. her wings, once a symbol of grace, now hung low, heavy with the weight of regret. their feathers, like the last remnants of a forgotten dream, trailed behind her - stained, broken, burnt, abandoned.

the glow in the distance flickered again, weak and uncertain, like a dying star, barely clinging to its place in the night sky. she could feel it call to her, its warmth a temptation, a fleeting comfort against the abyss she had fallen into. but there was no peace to be found here. only the bitter taste of loss, and the gnawing knowledge that something beautiful had slipped beyond her grasp.

with every step, the snow beneath her feet seemed to whisper, mocking her attempts at redemption. the earth, so foreign yet so familiar in its agony, stretched endlessly before her, a mirror of her own fractured soul. she had fallen. she was falling. and though the world spun on around her, she wondered if she would ever be whole again.

she tilted her face to the dark sky, a final plea to a heaven that had turned its gaze. the wind whispered through the trees, a soft, mournful cry. and still, the silence pressed in - unyielding, suffocating, as she continued her lonely march toward a light that could never reach her.

but when all seemed lost, she spotted the faint glow of a structure - a cabin, small and unassuming, its windows aglow with the warm light of a fire. her feet faltered, doubt creeping in. would the humans inside offer help, or would they recoil in fear at the sight of her wings, her bloodied form? she had no other choice. her strength was waning, and she knew her vessel wouldn’t last much longer in this state. summoning what little resolve she had left, she stumbled forward, her movements strained.

as she drew closer, she felt a presence - faint yet unmistakable. her instincts screamed at her to retreat, to flee from whatever lay ahead. but another part of her, quieter but insistent, urged her onward. there was something familiar in the energy emanating from the cabin, something she couldn’t quite place. and for the first time since her fall, she felt a glimmer of hope - fragile and tentative, but hope nonetheless. and not only hope, but a sense of familiarity.

she reached the door, her trembling hand hovering over the weathered wood. before she could knock, the door creaked open, revealing two figures standing inside. 

dean and sam were currently inside bobby's cabin, holed up during a blizzard. the sound of slow, labored footsteps on the porch alerted both of the brothers, sam grabbing a shotgun and dean reaching for the gun in the back of his pants. sam opened the door, immediately spotting a woman - the most beautiful woman either of them had ever seen. dark brown hair and fair, freckled skin, with feathered, opalescent wings flickering behind her, splayed out on the porch. her gaze was lidded, and she clutched her side, her hands stained a dark crimson.

she blinked, her knees almost buckling from exhaustion. being in a human body was horrid, she thought.

sam glanced over at his brother, watching as dean quickly grabbed a medical kit. sam slowly brought his shotgun down, but didn't move to lower it completely, not yet trusting the angelic creature.

"hey," sam greeted softly "can you tell me your name?"

“lenore.” she coughed a little, “i understand you know castiel.”

both brothers exchanged a look, sam holding the door open for her to enter the cabin. dean set the medkit on the table, his eyes trailing over lenore.

"what happened?"

“i fell from heaven.” she murmured, her voice a soft echo of grace marred by pain. the words carried the weight of her descent, each syllable trembling like a feather plucked from her wings.

that took both of them by surprise, but they kept their shock somewhat hidden. sam lowered the shotgun completely, leaning it against the wall by the door. they each took their own seats across from her at the table, waiting for her to elaborate.

“you do know castiel, do you not?”

dean narrowed his eyes at the mention of their friend, his protective instincts kicking in.

"yeah. what about him?"

“he spoke of you,”

that intrigued him. his features softened, but he stayed wary. 

"what did he say about us?" he wondered. 

“he asked me to protect you if he lost the fight with metatron.”

that got his full attention. dean didn't bother hiding his surprise. there was a small bit of anger, and his tone grew defensive. "why couldn't he protect us himself?" the elder brother wondered. "where is castiel?"

“i do not know. prison, maybe.” she shook her head, wincing at the pain as she walked through the cabin to where dean beckoned her over.

sam raised an eyebrow, his expression mirroring dean's as he followed the discussion. their gazes moved to follow her. sam wondered what type of angel lenore was.

"why can't he get out?" sam questioned, his expression curious.

“prison in heaven is much different.”

"how so?" dean prompted. lenore reached the space dean had been sitting at, and they were both immediately able to see that she was injured. the hand clutching her side was still a bright red, blood starting to drip onto the floor.

“well, it is not possible to escape, something i know to be a recurring theme on earth.”

"you're hurt," sam murmured, his voice gentle and concerned.

dean's mind flicked around, a plan forming as he observed lenore. he didn't entirely trust her. but lenore didn't seem to be lying.

“falling from seven hundred thousand feet in the air was not pleasant.” she spoke, green eyes trailing over each man.

"how the hell are you even still standing?" dean wondered, not meaning to come off as harsh.

“i am an angel, as you must know by now.” she tilted her head to the side a little, confused. she gestured to the mirage of her wings that seemed to flicker like a dying lightbulb, the feathers bent and snapped and covered in blood, dirt, and scorch marks. sam frowned at the sight of her wings.  the poor things were bent out of shape and covered in blood, and it hurt to even think how sore they were. his eyes flitted over them, before looking up at her.

"can you fix your wings?" sam found himself asking curiously.

“once this wound is tended to, yes. but i am using a considerable amount of strength to keep my vessel alive.”

sam frowned at that, but he understood. it explained the exhaustion shown on her face. though he still couldn't look away from how badly her wings looked.

"sit down," dean ordered softly, gesturing to the seat across from him "let's clean you up."

“showering is not something i require,” she frowned a little, confused. sam bit back a light chuckle, but his brother was not amused as he reached for the medkit.

"i mean cleaning your wound, sweetheart," dean clarified, the word rolling off his tongue with practiced ease. but the look in his eyes wasn’t teasing—it lingered, soft and unguarded, before he quickly glanced away.

“my name is lenore,” she corrected softly. “i do not know of anyone named 'sweetheart'.”

dean didn't catch on to the joke until she spoke, and he held back a snort. 

“it’s just an expression.” he got up, opening the medkit and finding the necessary supplies. sam smirked, shaking his head. 

“oh. thank you for clarifying. humans are confusing to me. i have never been to earth before.”

"humans are confusing to a lot of people," sam offered a reassuring, somewhat amused smile. dean returned to lenore's side, holding the necessary things to clean her up. sam's gaze fell to the injury she was cradling.

"can i see?"

she pulled her blood-stained hands away, resting them on her lap.

dean set his supplies on the table before gently reaching for her shirt. he hesitated for a second, not wanting to make lenore uncomfortable.

"is it okay if i pull up your shirt?"

“yes,” she hummed.

dean carefully untucked her shirt, lifting it up past the injury, exposing her stomach. sam frowned at the sight of the wound, his chest tightening. there was blood pooling on her skin, the injury was still bleeding heavily.

"did uh-," dean hesitated, his eyes trailing between lenore and the injury "did the landing do this?"

“yes, it was most unpleasant.”

"i bet. sorry," he replied quietly, before he pressed a pad covered in disinfectant against the wound. he gently cleaned the blood off of her, his touch surprisingly tender.

she barely winced, her lidded gaze trailing over his concentrated expression, shamelessly admiring him. “you are much more handsome than castiel said.”

sam tried not to grin at that as he watched the exchange. dean was completely focused, almost unaware of the compliment.

"the bastard said that?" dean questioned, though he still didn't look up.

“castiel was not born out of wedlock,” lenore mumbled, confused. 

sam barked out a laugh at that, the unexpected comment taking both of them by surprise. dean chuckled quietly, shaking his head.

"i didn't mean it literally," he explained, amused. "are you sure you came from heaven?"

“yes? have i said something inappropriate?”

sam took a moment to collect himself, while dean was struggling not to laugh out loud. he had never seen an angel quite like her.

"no it's just - forget about it" dean replied, finally looking up from the injury. he continued cleaning it, noticing the way lenore was practically ogling him.

"something wrong?" he wondered.

“no.” she shook her head, her gaze lingering, a neutral expression gracing her angelically - almost annoyingly perfect features.

dean hummed in reply, trying not to smirk and failing miserably. sam laughed a little under his breath, not expecting an angel to openly check his brother out. dean finished cleaning the wound, his eyes trailing over the injury. there was still a decent amount of blood to clean up.

"almost done," he murmured.

“have i done something amusing?” she looked up at sam, a confused furrow in her brows.

sam raised an eyebrow, his eyes flickering between lenore and his brother who was still tending to her. even he found it amusing the way the angel couldn't stop looking at his brother, but there was something almost endearing about it.

"not at all," he reassured her.

"do you have a type?" sam wondered curiously.

“a type of what?”

"like a type in men?" sam wondered, finding it hard to conceal his amusement.

“i don’t quite understand your question, i apologize.”

dean was trying desperately not to laugh. his brother asked a pretty straightforward question, and yet the angel was still confused. the idea of explaining to lenore that she had a thing for pretty men seemed too entertaining to pass up.

"a type as in certain features about a man that you prefer. like hair color or eye color." dean offered as an example.

“i suppose i have never considered it. i have not been with a man before.”

dean finally met lenore's eyes, finding it almost impossible to not laugh at her response. his mind immediately went somewhere dirty, but he kept to himself. 

sam cleared his throat, catching himself before he chuckled, but he couldn't look away from how the pair were interacting.

"you've never been with anyone before?"

“no, i am an angel. what purpose would it serve?”

"so you've never been attracted to someone before?" sam pressed curiously, leaning in closer. his eyes met dean's, noticing how his brother wasn't even trying to hide his amusement.

“i don't know. what does it feel like? all these... emotions are new to me.”

that was surprising. neither sam nor dean had ever met an angel so oblivious. it was actually amusing. dean leaned back after placing a bandage over her wound, covering it. he met her eyes with a light chuckle. "are you... serious?"

“i am lenore. i did not think it was such a difficult name to remember.”

sam barked out a laugh, unable to resist. dean rolled his eyes, raising his eyebrow “not what i meant, sweetheart" he teased without thinking, but really he was more amused than annoyed.

she pouted for a moment, before her expression morphed into one of realization. “oh, the... term of endearment”

sam found lenore pouting more amusing than anything, trying not to laugh at her realization. meanwhile, the pet name slipped out easily for dean. the elder hunter couldn't contain his amusement either, watching lenore carefully.

"yeah. sorry. force of habit" dean cleared his throat.

“do you often tend to angels?”

neither could deny the amusement. this angel was quite possibly the most amusing creature to enter their lives or anyone's life for that matter. they both shook their heads in unison.

"not even once," sam finally managed to reply. the pair shared another look, their amusement evident. even in the middle of a terrible time for them, lenore was the most amusing thing they had encountered in years.

“so why is it a, "force of habit" as you say?”

dean opened his mouth to reply, but hesitated. the question honestly caught him off guard. there was no genuine reason behind it. the answer would have him exposing more than he wanted.

sam, being the observant one, caught on much faster than his brother and found the whole situation much more amusing.

"he's just a natural flirt," sam teased. he nudged his brother with his elbow, trying to hide his amusement. 

“oh. i will try to remember that.”

sam grinned, sharing another look with his brother. he watched as dean rolled his eyes, clearing his throat once more. neither could deny sam's comment. dean was the flirt. he was much more amused than he wanted to admit.

"so lenore," dean spoke "you said that you fell from heaven, can i ask you something?"

“you just did.” she blinked up at him. 

that got a small chuckle out of sam, while dean tried to keep his expression neutral. her response was expected, but he still found it amusing. dean reached for the medkit, putting everything back in place.

"touché. i guess i should be more specific then."

“you speak french as well?”

sam almost burst out laughing, shaking his head. the way she misunderstood almost everything had to win her an award for the most innocent creature. dean shot sam a look, trying hard not to laugh with him. 

"no, lenore. that's just a phrase." he replied patiently. 

“oh.”

sam's eyes were slightly glazed over, biting back a laugh. lenore's obliviousness was entertaining. dean shook his head, clearing his throat. "uh, are all angels like you?"

“how do you mean?”

"oblivious. you seem rather.... ignorant. not saying it in a bad way." dean pointed out. sam bit his tongue to suppress any laughter that threatened to escape, struggling not to chuckle.

“no, they are not all like me. i am, young, well - as opposed to others. i have not been to earth before.”

"you don't say," sam murmured under his breath. he couldn't even believe he was asking the question but the curiosity was eating at him. "how old are you exactly?"

“ten thousand, four hundred and seventy two years old, i believe.”

dean's eyebrows shot up at that. ten thousand? he certainly wasn't expecting that. sam was impressed, but he was more amused.

"and that's considered young for you?" dean wondered, his voice full of amusement.

“yes, castiel, for example is over two hundred thousand years old.”

"jesus." sam murmured under his breath, while dean murmured an agreement. dean shook his head, looking at lenore with a confused expression "so you're saying you're basically a baby to them?"

“i am not a baby.”

sam raised his eyebrow, grinning at the way she took everything literally. even dean couldn't deny he found it more amusing than annoying.

dean shook his head, biting back a laugh.

"yeah i didn't mean it as in you're not capable. i meant it as in you're still inexperienced and fairly new to... everything."

“only to earth,”

"and human emotions," sam added. he knew he should be asking more important questions, but he was more amused with asking more harmless questions.

dean glanced at his brother, raising an eyebrow "so, angel," he mused, finding satisfaction at the way his question got her attention. she didn't seem put off by the nickname.

“i have never been inside a human before, i was more of a.... concept before,” she paused, like she was searching for the words.

both brothers exchanged a curious look. sam was intrigued. dean tried to play it cool. but her way with words had some questions rising.

"what do you mean, you were more of a concept?"

“my true visage is much different than this,” she gestured to her body. “very few can actually perceive me.”

that caught both of their attention. they shifted in place, looking more intrigued now

"and what if someone could perceive your true form?" sam wondered, raising an eyebrow

“then they are a prophet, or another angel in another vessel.”

sam nodded at that, but he tilted his head. his questions were more out of curiosity. "so why are you in a vessel now?"

“because i was cast out of heaven, and i did not wish to harm humans with my true visage.”

"wait, your true form hurts people?" sam wondered, growing slightly more curious. he had questions, plenty. even dean was curious enough to ask more questions.

“it burns their eyes out.”

"oh," both brothers murmured in unison, exchanging another look. sam was the first to speak up. "you're saying anyone that looks at your true form would go blind?"

“yes.”

"interesting," dean murmured under his breath, his mind wandering. he looked like he wanted to ask her more. sam cleared his throat, a question coming to his mind immediately. "do you always pick a pretty vessel?"

“i have never picked a vessel before, and i am not exactly sure what humans consider "pretty." is this not satisfactory?”

"not satisfactory?" at the same time, both of them replied with a look of disbelief. sam shook his head, looking her up and down. he was impressed "uh, you have to be joking."

“i was not.” she frowned slightly.

dean didn't reply, still taking a moment to look her up and down. she was very attractive, it was hard to think otherwise. sam spoke up, noticing her small frown. 

"your vessel is absolutely satisfactory, lenore. you're very pretty." he assured.

“thank you. you are very pretty, too.”

sam caught himself mid laugh, shaking his head. he found lenore's sincerity, more amusing than anything. dean raised an eyebrow, his expression softening at sam being called pretty. sam had to bite back a laugh. it amused him how lenore was so innocent. 

“have i offended you?” she frowned, tilting her head

sam shook his head, chuckling under his breath. "you didn't offend me.”

“why would you think that?" dean questioned, his hand instinctively moving to gently squeeze lenore's shoulder, wanting to make her feel more reassured.

she stared at his hand, confused as to why it was there. he caught onto that, noticing how she was staring at his hand. he moved it back, clearing his throat.

 "you seemed upset. i was trying to... i don't know, reassure you." dean replied softly

“i am not upset. i simply do not understand human customs. what is the purpose of this?” she reached out, gingerly placing a stained hand on his broad shoulder.

dean's eyebrows raised, his body tensing slightly at the soft touch. he stayed still, observing how she tried to mimic his attempt. sam didn't say anything yet, his eyes darting between the two. sam caught on what dean might not have.

dean met her eyes, clearing his throat "just... uh, human nature, i guess. it's supposed to be comforting, or to help if someone's distressed."

“oh. i appreciate that.”

sam had to hide a smirk, watching how lenore tried to mimic what dean had done. the whole thing was sweet, and he saw that dean wasn't pulling his attention away from her despite trying to stay neutral.

dean felt the tension in his body slowly disappear, nodding. he didn't pull away from her touch after she finished trying "i think you're getting the hang of this," he murmured, referring to human customs.

“really?” she beamed up at him.

dean would deny the fact that her smile was absolutely adorable, and that his chest swelled in response. sam had to look away, hiding his smirk.

"yeah," dean replied softly, watching lenore with softened features "you're a quick learner."

“this is pretty.” she stated, big green eyes looking to his for assurance she was using that correctly. she was not. she wrongly assumed it was synonymous for good or satisfactory. 

dean was trying not to show how amused he was, a smile curling at his lips. he wanted to correct her. but he just couldn't pass up such an opportunity.

"pretty?" he questioned softly, his heart fluttering.

“is that word not synonymous with "good"?”

sam was now biting his bottom lip to contain the laughter that was threatening to bubble up from his throat. his smile was growing wider with every reply from lenore. 

dean couldn't help but grin softly, slowly shaking his head "pretty is a compliment. it's more than just 'good'.

her plump, pink lips pulled into a little pout, discouraged.

that made dean soften, his fingers twitching in his lap as he fought the urge to reach up and touch her lower lip. sam was completely enamored. he hadn't seen anyone so endearing before. dean cleared his throat, his voice going softer.

"hey, don't make that face."

“why?”

"because i don't like seeing it," dean replied, his eyes scanning over lenore's face, taking notice to the way her plump lips had pulled into an unintentional pout. it was cute, something he would never admit. he reached up to gently press the pad of his thumb against her bottom lip, gently swiping over it. 

“so this vessel is less than satisfactory to you?”

"no, no. that's not it," dean replied quickly, shaking his head for emphasis. sam tried not to let out a chuckle, his eyes darting between the pair as they talked. the whole thing was cute, his tough older brother soft and understanding. dean cleared his throat, shaking his head. "i like your vessel just fine. you're beautiful."

she smiled softly, blinking up at him almost expectantly. 

dean found himself staring at her as she smiled up at him, his heart drumming in his chest in a way he didn't quite understand. his eyes flickered over lenore's features, his heart still pounding out of his chest. sam felt himself growing soft, his amusement at the two of them together growing as he remained quiet.

after a few moments, he cleared his throat. he was unsure of what to say next, but his fingers still burned with the urge to touch her. "lenore, honey.." dean trailed off. 

“despite my wings, i have no relation to bees, am i like an insect to you?” she shook her head, chiding him gently. 

sam bit his cheek until it hurt, trying desperately not to give in to the laughter he was holding in. he was watching the pair like some teenage girl watching her favorite romance movie.

dean snickered, shaking his head. but he couldn't fight the softness that settled into his gaze after she chided him. "that's not..." he closed his eyes for a moment, before he met lenore's eyes. "you don't know what a pet name is?"

“i am not an animal either.”

sam couldn't hold his laugh any longer after that, bursting out in a soft chuckle. he shook his head, hiding his face behind his hand. meanwhile, dean was trying to keep his amusement from showing, but he failed. the pet name comment got him laughing softly too. "no, sweetheart," he murmured, the term of endearment falling off his tongue so easily. "that's not what i meant."

“oh, so it is something you call people? like sweetheart?”

"exactly like sweetheart." dean murmured, his fingers reaching out to touch her chin softly, almost instinctively. sam just watched, shaking his head at the two of them. the whole thing was so amusing, yet the softness between the pair wasn't lost on him.

“humans touch each other a lot.”

dean hummed in reply, a smile curling at the corner of his lips. he was definitely enjoying the physical touch. he slowly dropped his hand away from lenore, even if he didn't want to, but he wasn't sure how much lenore wanted him to touch her.

sam cleared his throat, still finding amusement in lenore's confusion. "it depends on who we're touching. it's generally to show affection." he explained. he couldn't believe they were explaining touching to an angel.

she nodded, understanding. she placed a delicate hand on dean's chest, blinking up at him as if to gauge his reaction - to see if she was doing it right. 

dean tried to ignore how his breath hitched, taking in a sharp inhale. he felt his skin tingle under her touch, his heart skipping a beat. his fingers twitched in his lap, wishing he could touch her again, but he kept his hand in place. he remained still, letting lenore touch him. sam watched with a sly grin.

her fingertips gently touched the planes of muscle, halfway poking at his chest through his sweatshirt.

dean's heart was racing under her light touch, he felt every press of her fingertips through his clothes. his skin tingled where she touched, goosebumps erupting over his skin. if he were a weaker man, he would've leaned into the touch, wanting to feel more. he met her eyes, watching her expression. sam had to hide another laugh, his smile growing at the sight of his brother struggling to contain himself.

she glanced down at his sweatshirt, noticing the details of it for the first time. it read "led zeppelin" and the embroidery was the fall of icarus. she frowned at the sight, tilting her head.

dean was trying hard not to focus too much on the way her touch ignited his skin, but her eyes darting toward his sweatshirt caught his attention.

"it's a band." he explained without a thought, watching her. "you know what music is?"

“yes, i was not born one thousand years ago.” she smiled softly, it was her turn to be amused. 

he raised an eyebrow, noticing the way she was staring at the band's logo. clearly it was different than what she was used to in heaven. 

"do you... not like it?" he wondered hesitantly, his heart still racing.

“is it meant to be lucifer?”

that seemed to catch him off guard. "lucifer? you mean... the devil?" he questioned curiously.  "no, it's meant to be icarus from greek mythology."

“but icarus was not real. lucifer is. he was the first to be cast out.”

the clarification surprised dean, even sam raised an eyebrow at her reasoning. though he was impressed more than anything. "how-" he stopped himself, shaking his head. “that's not the point, sweetheart."

he murmured a soft chuckle, shaking his head again. "icarus isn't real, no. it's artwork," he replied quietly, hoping it clicked somewhere for the angel.

“oh, like the mona lisa?”

"yes," dean murmured, surprised. he expected her not to understand, but she caught on quicker than expected "exactly like the mona lisa."

“how intriguing.” she mused. 

that got a nod from the both of them. sam found himself a bit surprised at lenore's reaction.

dean nodded as well, his eyes shifting down to lenore's hand. his fingers twitched in his lap, again fighting the urge to touch her. she didn't pull her hand back, but turned to sam, letting her gaze trail over him, seemingly looking for something. 

sam met her gaze, his eyebrow raising slowly at being studied by an angel. it wasn't a bad feeling, if anything it was endearing. "what?" he questioned softly, watching her with an amused smile.

“you are not wearing artwork.”

that almost got a chuckle out of him, but he managed to bite it back. the corners of his lips did curve upward though, unable to deny lenore's innocence. dean was watching in silence. he seemed to be observing lenore's curiosity, his heart still racing. 

her brows furrowed, suddenly noticing the speed of dean's heartbeat, the soft vibrations under her fingertips. 

that almost got a chuckle out of him, but he managed to bite it back. the corners of his lips did curve upward though, unable to deny lenore's innocence. dean was watching in silence. he seemed to be observing lenore's curiosity, his heart still racing. 

her brows furrowed, suddenly noticing the speed of dean's heartbeat, the soft vibrations under her fingertips. 

sam was quick to notice the change in lenore's expression, following the direction of her eyes. he wondered how a celestial being could pick up a detail like a heart beat without actually touching it. dean was still staring at lenore, the feeling of her hand against his chest made his heart flutter. he felt a wave of panic, he never felt so out of control of his emotions around someone. 

“your heartbeat is very fast. are you going into cardiac arrest?” she turned back to dean, worry etching its way onto her features.

sam bit his bottom lip to stop himself from laughing out loud. dean shook his head, surprised and caught off guard by her question. he cleared his throat, shaking his head. 

"uh, no. no cardiac arrest." he chuckled softly, his voice softer than usual. 

“are you sure?”

dean nodded, his expression softening. he was beginning to get used to her innocence "i promise, i'm not going into cardiac arrest."

“that is good.” she nodded, standing up. she took a few steps forward, to where sam stood, leaning against the back of the couch. sam's eyes widened slightly, not expecting lenore to move and join him where he was. dean didn't say anything, his eyes trailing after her. his heart rate was slowly returning to a normal pace, while his fingers still twitched in his lap.

she stood a foot shorter than him, completely dwarfed by his frame. she reached up a hand, her fingertips grazing his chest, over his heart. sam tensed up, surprised. he stayed still, his heart rate increasing slightly, while his eyes remained on lenore. dean watched with bated breath. 

“your heartbeat is only somewhat faster than normal,” she acknowledged. 

sam didn't quite know what to say, feeling the light touch of her fingers over his shirt. he swallowed the thickness that started to form in his throat. dean stayed quiet, his eyes following her hand and then trailing back up. his hands were balling into fists in his lap. she pulled back her hand, clasping them together and simply standing there, as though waiting to be spoken to.

sam relaxed, slowly letting out a breath. his eyes trailed back to her, watching her curiously. dean shifted in his seat, swallowing the thickness in his throat.

"lenore, sweetheart," he spoke, his voice softer than normal. "can i ask you something?"

“yes, dean?”

dean was trying his damn hardest to stop himself from saying anything he shouldn't. he cleared his throat, trying to ignore the way she said his name.

"why do you keep touching us?" his voice almost wavered, but remained calm. 

“i am sorry. i will keep my distance in the future.” she was quick to apologize. 

sam winced, shaking his head "no no, sweetheart. that's not what he meant."

dean was shaking his own head to emphasize that he didn't want her to apologize. "i don't want you to keep your distance, i was just curious." he murmured. 

“i am trying to fit in, am i not doing it right?”

sam shook his head, his expression growing softer. he had his suspicions, but he didn't want to say anything. dean spoke up, his voice softer, "no no. you're doing a pretty good job. you didn't do anything wrong."

“but,” she started, cutting herself off with a frown.

sam was intrigued, raising his eyebrow.

dean stayed silent, though his expression showed that he was trying to get her to finish her sentence.

“if i am doing it correctly, why did you ask?”

dean met lenore's eyes. his heart was still beating faster than normal. he cleared his throat "because i wasn't expecting you to just... touch me like that."

“is that not what humans do?”

dean tried to be careful with his words, not wanting to offend her. "yeah... people do that a lot actually. i was just trying to understand your reasoning behind it." he admitted truthfully. 

“so there always has to be a reason behind touching someone?” she clarified, beginning to grasp the concept. 

"not exactly." dean replied, shaking his head slowly. "sometimes, people just touch others to show affection, other times people don't have a reason" he explained quietly. sam had a feeling that the reason behind her touching was for her to understand humans better. she seemed curious.

“oh.”

dean kept his eyes on her expression, watching her reaction. he wasn't sure how she'd react, or if his explanation made any sense to her. sam was watching as well, wondering if lenore understood what dean said. 

she nodded after a moment, the pieces seemingly fitting into place. sam relaxed at her nod, glad that it clicked somewhere for the angel. dean relaxed slightly, letting out a breath. he watched her, meeting her eyes "do you understand what i mean?" he questioned softly, trying to make it as simple as possible. 

“i do.”

"so, is there any reason why you keep touching us? or are you... just curious about humans?" sam asked curiously, wanting to get a better understanding of why. 

“well, at first i was curious, then i wanted to see if you were going into cardiac arrest.”

sam fought so hard with his laughter, but he gave in. he ended up covering his mouth to muffle the sound. dean didn't expect that. not that he was completely shocked by it, but it was unexpected.

dean bit his tongue to suppress the smile trying to make its way on his face, shaking his head. there were so many thoughts that ran through his mind "you were worried about us, uh, going into cardiac arrest?"

“your heartbeat was so fast, and humans are fairly delicate.”

dean was struggling. his chest swelled at her concern, and it made him feel weak. he had never once had someone actually be concerned for him like that "yeah, but you realize that... heart rates increase for a number of reasons, right?"

“i did not know that.” lenore shook her head. 

sam cleared his throat, calming himself down slightly. he was still trying to not burst out laughing. the pair had yet to tell lenore that heart rates usually increased when around someone they were attracted to. dean raised an eyebrow, chuckling softly in disbelief, "oh, did you not?"

“i have never had organs until now.” she explained. 

that had sam laughing again, shaking his head as he tried his best to suppress it. dean couldn't help the snort that escaped him. dean chuckled softly again, shaking his head. he tried his hardest to contain any expression that would give away his next thoughts. "well, sweetheart," he teased softly. "did you know that hearts can beat faster because of attraction?"

“you admire this vessel?” she asked, her tone curious and without pretense. her gaze lingered on him, unknowing of the way her question unraveled his composure.

that shut sam up in a second, his eyes wide as he tried to contain his laughter. he was too shocked to form any sound now, though he was grinning wildly at what just happened. dean was trying to ignore the warmth he felt in his chest, his fingers twitching as he bit the inside of his cheek. "i mean, yeah. you're beautiful." he murmured, keeping eye contact. there was no denying she was attractive. 

“my vessel is?”

dean cleared his throat. how was his heart still drumming in his chest? he didn't even know. his eyes shifted over lenore, and his heart skipped a beat "yes, sweetheart. you are. you're extremely beautiful, to the point you might break hearts of tons of humans."

“oh no, that is not good at all, i must acquire a different vessel.” she shook her head. 

dean shook his head quickly, raising his hands in defense, shooting sam a glare as he snickered. "no! i meant it in a good way, sweetheart! a really good way" he rushed out, his eyes widening. 

“how is breaking organs a good thing?”

dean shook his head, chuckling softly as he tried his best to clarify. but he was finding it amusing that she took his words so literally. "honey, the expression 'breaking hearts' doesn't literally mean breaking organs. it's to imply something or someone is too attractive to handle."

“that makes no sense.”

sam continued laughing behind his hand, shaking his head. dean raised an eyebrow, finding amusement in her stubbornness and innocence. he tried to be patient, knowing she was new to human customs. "look honey...” he murmured, looking for a way to explain that her beauty would draw in many humans- "you are... attractive. gorgeous.”

she blinked up at him, waiting for him to go on. 

sam was biting hard into the back of his hand to keep his laughter to himself. poor lenore didn't even understand that she was absolutely beautiful.

dean cleared his throat, his heart still drumming in his chest. "your face. your body. your appearance, honey" he emphasized. god, this angel was a lot to handle already. 

“my body?” she looked down, confused. 

sam was practically choking as he laughed, the corners of his eyes were starting to gloss with tears. he covered his mouth as his shoulders shook. dean wasn't any better. he ran a hand over his face, almost laughing at lenore's confusion. 

"yes, your body" he murmured quietly, running his eyes over lenore. she was unaware of how attractive she was, and it was both amusing and adorable to him. 

“why?”

sam couldn't contain himself any longer, bursting into a new fit of laughter. he covered his mouth with a hand, trying not to be too loud. dean was having to bite the inside of his cheek really hard now. how could someone be so oblivious and innocent to their own beauty?

"do..." he trailed off, unsure of what to say without accidentally offending lenore "do you have any thoughts on your body?"

“it hurts a little.” she offered. 

that had sam stopping his laughter for a moment. he raised an eyebrow, waiting for an explanation. 

dean's eyebrows furrowed, curious. his laugh faded almost instantly, replaced with concern. 

“i just fell from seven hundred thousand feet.”

dean's entire expression softened. how could he forget about that? "oh. you're probably sore then?" he murmured softly, his hand twitching to touch her.

“it is a dull pain, does that constitute as "sore"?”

sam felt terrible, shaking his head "yeah. that would constitute as sore" he murmured in response. dean felt even worse. he frowned, his mind drifting to lenore's injuries. "you have any other injuries?"

“just my wings."

sam tilted his head, curious. he had heard a myth of how an angel's wings were their most sensitive. he wondered if the myth held true. "can i ask you a question, or two, about your wings?" sam asked hesitantly. 

“yes, sam. you may.”

sam smiled softly, glad she was open to questions "are your wings your most sensitive part of your body?" he asked curiously. 

“no, i do not think so.”

sam hummed in response, raising an eyebrow. his interest was piqued. dean was intrigued. his eyes were on lenore, curious if she would share any details. his fingers were still twitching in his lap, the urge to touch her returning. 

“that reminds me,” she spoke, shutting her eyes. a slight furrow appeared in her brows for a moment, before her long, feathered wings were pristine once more, still draped on the floor like the train of a wedding dress. 

sam couldn't hide his surprise. he didn't think she would just simply fix them without thinking twice about it. dean was surprised as well, eyes widening slightly. he hadn't expected her to heal her wings so quickly. 

"you uh, just healed them?" sam murmured in surprise. 

“yes?”

sam almost burst into laughter. of course that was a basic response from her. "just like that? with no hesitation?" he hummed. dean chuckled softly, shaking his head. of course, being an angel, she just healed so quickly and easily.

“my wound is almost gone.”

sam was shocked, his eyes widening. he was impressed that a wound could heal that quickly.

"already? so soon?" he muttered.

dean's expression softened. it was reassuring that her injury was mostly healed already. he found lenore to be quite fascinating - for obvious reasons. everything about her intrigued him.

“yes, see?” she pulled up her shirt, tugging off the bandages to reveal only a large bruise where there was once a deep gash - only thirty minutes ago. sam was caught off guard. his surprise grew. how could a wound heal that quickly in only half an hour?

dean's eyebrows raised. he leaned in to get a better look, impressed "that's pretty remarkable, sweetheart." he murmured softly, shaking his head. 

“you may remark on it, if you wish.” she spoke, her tone neutral. sam smiled at her wording. "that's not what i meant, sweetheart. remarkable means... amazing."

“oh. thank you.”

"you're welcome, honey.”

she let her shirt fall back down, stretching a little, her wings fluttering slightly before they disappeared. 

sam couldn't help but wonder how her wings felt. if they were as soft as they looked. meanwhile, dean was trying hard to ignore how her shirt fell down. he found himself staring where it was lifted up, his heart racing. he had to force himself to pull his eyes away. he felt his face heat, his chest clenching. 

he raised an eyebrow, watching lenore, who seemed to be evaluating his brother. she looked up at sam, a warm smile gracing her features as she stared intently at him. sam couldn't help but laugh softly again. he couldn't get over it. a literal angel. just beaming up at him. 

dean was in awe. he couldn't help the softening of his expression, his fingers tensing in his lap. his fingers twitched with the urge to reach out. but he refrained, watching her. she turned to dean, staring as intently at him before frowning slightly. 

she was picking up on dean's emotions. his laughter died in his throat, curious to see how he would react.

dean felt his entire body tense. he wanted to look away, or turn. he couldn't handle her looking directly into him with her piercing gaze. but he stayed still, meeting her eyes. his fingers curled into fists in his lap. 

“restraint,” she mused softly.

sam was surprised that she managed to pick that up, his eyes widening. he bit his bottom lip, his laughter dying. he was intrigued. dean swallowed thickly. she knew. he slowly shook his head. his heart still beating rapidly in response. she nodded, correcting him. 

sam was impressed. he knew she had empathy, but he didn't expect her to be so perceptive and honest.

dean felt his stomach drop. she knew. she could tell that he had to restrain himself. she knew what he felt. but he couldn't admit that. 

“uncomfortable with emotional vulnerability,” she murmured. 

sam froze. it was like she was reading right through his brother. he didn't know what to say. he cleared his throat, shaking his head.

dean felt his entire body tense again. she could read him so easily. he felt exposed and vulnerable. he wanted to deny it, but he couldn't. she was correct.

“i am sorry.” she was quick to backtrack. 

dean shook his head,  he couldn't deny it, no matter how much he wanted to. not with how she was completely correct "it's okay. you're right." he murmured. she seemed to think for a moment, before placing her delicate hand on his thigh.

that caught him off guard slightly. her hand was so delicate, and small. but the contact of her touching him, her hand on his thigh, made his entire body feel weak. his heart skipped a beat at the small, innocent touch.

a while later, they sat on the couch, lenore pressed in between dean and the side of the couch. she didn't understand where to sit, and just picked a random spot.

dean had to refrain from putting his arm around her. the space between them was so small, he could smell the faint scent of vanilla. 

she touched her fingertip to the back of dean's hand, the one resting on his thigh. even the smallest touch had a major effect on him. his heart rate increased at the contact. he stayed still, not being able to resist looking at lenore, his features softening as he did so. she slowly reached out her other hand, grabbing his large, calloused one with both of her smaller ones. 

dean was weak. he felt so weak. his entire body was pliant in her hands, his large hand malleable in between her smaller, delicate ones, like clay in the hands of a potter. he watched in silence, letting her touch him. the softness of her fingertips, it made him feel so much. he wondered what her skin felt like. he wanted to feel her skin on his, to feel the softness, to feel more. 

she inspected his hand, flipping it over and looking at his palm. she touched the ring he wore, bending his fingers gently, tracing his veins. dean let her, his hand completely open and exposed for her to study. he was completely still, letting her touch. the tips of her fingers brushed against his palm, tracing his veins, almost made him feel dizzy. his arm tensed, his breathing hitched. 

“is this bothersome?” she asked softly, stopping her movements to look up at him.

dean quickly shook his head. the last thing he wanted was for her to stop. feeling her delicate, soft touch on him was so overwhelming. he swallowed, trying to keep his emotions in control. "no. not at all." he murmured, his voice softer than usual. she nodded, continuing her exploration. 

his heart was drumming wildly in his chest. he felt dazed, almost drunk. feeling her fingers dance and press against his palm. he had to refrain from flipping his palm so he could feel her soft fingers between his. he felt his entire body warming up, his face flushing.

her right hand slipped down to his wrist, wrapping her slim fingers around it, placing her left hand up against his, as if to compare the sizes. he swallowed, his pulse rapid against her fingertips. his hand was much larger, his skin roughened with scars. his fingers twitched, wanting to hold her hand. she had such soft and delicate hands, which was a stark contrast to his own. she slipped her fingers between his, watching with great fascination at the way they molded together. 

dean's breath hitched. it took him a lot to keep his hand completely still. the feeling of her fingers between his, he felt that feeling of weakness. it was like electricity flowing through him, tingling up his arm.

he couldn't look away. his gaze was on their fingers. the contrast between her hand and his. delicate, and soft versus large and rough. she climbed over him, still holding onto his hand, her free hand reaching for sam's. 

sam watched her climb over his brother, catching him by surprise. his fingers instinctively moved, allowing her to grasp his hand for the same comparison.

dean raised an eyebrow, looking at her as she climbed onto him, confused but not bothered. but feeling vulnerable, having her climb over. his chest feeling tight. his head was starting to spin, his heart racing. 

sam's hands were a little bigger and less calloused, his fingers just a little longer. his hands were softer for sure. not as rough as dean's. sam was curious about her analysis, letting her hold his hand to compare. his expression slowly softened, watching lenore with a slight smile. 

dean still wondered how her hands would feel against the rest of him. he couldn't stop thinking about having her fingers on his skin. he internally kicked himself, trying to rid his mind of the impure thoughts that crept in. he ached to ruin her. 

“interesting.”

sam was fascinated by the differences, watching her analyse them. it had him curious. he raised an eyebrow, "interesting?" he wondered. dean was also intrigued. he wondered the differences too. though his mind wandered down to other thoughts, like how delicate her hands would feel on him.

dean shifted, glancing at his brother , who looked just as captivated by lenore's silent analysis. he couldn't help but smirk. 

"so, who's got the better hands?" dean teased, his voice low and gruff, though his tone betrayed his genuine curiosity. lenore looked up at dean, her expression thoughtful. 

"it's not about better or worse," she said softly, her fingers releasing sam's hand but not dean's, as though drawn back to him instinctively. "it's about what they've been through.” she whispered, tracing the roughened skin, “they carry the weight of battles won and lost. they speak of pain, of strength… of sacrifices no one should bear alone.”

dean swallowed hard as her fingers curled around hers one more, this time more deliberately. the way her gentle touch lingered made him feel like his entire being was laid bare for her to see.

"that's... deep," sam muttered, leaning back slightly, his own hand now resting on the couch. his tone was light, but there was a hint of admiration in his voice. lenore smiled faintly, her focus still on dean's hand. "you fascinate me.” she paused, looking up into dean's green eyes, her own soft and unguarded.  

dean's chest tightened, her gaze hitting him hard. vulnerability wasn't something he liked to think about, let alone acknowledge. but with her holding his hand, her fingers so delicately intertwined with his, he couldn't deny it.

"why is that?" he asked, his voice low, almost hesitant. lenore tilted her head, studying him as if trying to decide.

“you keep your true emotions guarded. but you are fighting to let me in.”

dean's jaw clenched, his usual walls threatening to rise. but the softness of her gaze as she looked up at him made it impossible. he was completely disarmed, her presence unraveling him in ways he wasn't sure he was ready to face.

sam, sensing the shift in the air, cleared his throat and stood. "i'm gonna grab a drink," he announced, giving lenore a small, knowing smile before heading toward the kitchen.

lenore watched him go, then returned her attention to dean. she still held his hand, her fingers now moving to trace a particularly deep scar on his palm. "you don't have to hide," she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

dean's throat tightened, and for a moment, he said nothing. then, in a voice that sounded more vulnerable than he intended, he muttered, "it's not that simple."

lenore's lips curved into a faint smile, her fingers stilling against his. "yes it is.”

dean let out a shaky breath, his free hand running through his hair. "you've got a way of making a guy feel... exposed," he admitted, his smirk weak but genuine.

lenore's laugh was soft, melodic, but the look in her eyes - the trust, the understanding - somehow made it easier to bear. for the first time in a long time, he felt seen, and it scared him as much as it comforted him.

dean sat there for a moment, his hand still resting on his thigh where lenore had left it, tingling from her touch. his gaze lingered on her, his mind racing with thoughts he wasn't sure he should be having. he wanted to say something, anything, to break the heavy silence that had fallen between them. but before he could, lenore shifted closer, her knees brushing against his thigh.

she tilted her head, studying him with a quiet intensity. "you're quieter than usual," she said softly, her tone carrying a hint of curiosity.

dean chuckled dryly, shaking his head. "yeah, well, you've got me all figured out, don't you?"

lenore smiled, a little mischievous now. "not yet." she rested her elbow on the back of the couch and leaned her cheek against her hand, her body angled toward him. “but i think i'm getting there."

dean smirked. "good luck with that," he muttered, looking down at his hands. "i'm not exactly an open book."

"maybe not," lenore agreed, her voice soft again. "but you're not as hard to read as you think."

he glanced down at her, his green eyes narrowing slightly. "oh yeah? what do you think you've figured out?"

lenore hesitated, her fingers lightly tracing patterns on the fabric of the couch. "you carry a lot," she said finally. "more than most people could. and you do it quietly, like it's just... expected of you. but it's not."

dean's smirk faltered, her words hitting him like a punch to the stomach. he looked away, his jaw tightening. "it's not that simple," he repeated, his voice quieter this time.

"i know you believe that.” lenore replied, her tone understanding. "but that doesn't mean you have to do it all alone."

dean let out a humorless laugh, shaking his head again.’i’ve been doing this alone for as long as i can remember,” dean said, his voice rough. “it’s just… the way it is.” he shifted, avoiding her gaze, as if meeting her eyes would strip away the lie he barely believed himself.

"doesn't mean you don't deserve help." she countered gently, her eyes searching his. she was making an active effort to mimic his speech patterns, trying to get though to him.

he didn't respond right away, his fingers curling into a loose fist on his thigh. he could feel her watching him, waiting patiently, but she didn't push. that patience, that quiet understanding - it unnerved him. made him feel seen in a way he wasn't used to.

finally, he sighed, leaning back against the couch and running a hand down his face. "you're relentless, you know that?"

lenore laughed softly, the sound warm and genuine. "i've been told that before."

dean couldn't help but smile, though it was faint. "yeah, well, don't get used to this," he said, gesturing between them. "me, opening up or whatever. it's... rare."

lenore's smile softened. "i don't need you to open up all the way," she said. "just enough to let me in."

he looked at her then, really looked at her, and for a moment, he let himself wonder what it would be like to let her in - to let someone see the parts of him he kept hidden. it was terrifying. but with her sitting so close, her eyes so steady and kind, it felt possible… almost. 

lenore leaned back against the couch, her hands folding neatly in her lap. dean felt the absence of her touch like a physical ache, but he stayed still, his hand resting where she'd left it. he glanced toward the kitchen, where sam was still out of sight, before shifting his gaze back to her.

"you always this curious about people's hands?" he asked, trying to sound casual, though his voice carried a slight edge of vulnerability.

lenore tilted her head, considering the question. "not always," she admitted, her tone light. 

dean raised an eyebrow, his lips quirking into a half-smile. "but?"

her gaze dropped to his hand again, and she hesitated before answering. "they're worn, like they've carried too much. like they've held things they shouldn't have had to."

the smile faded from dean's face. her words hit too close to home, and for a moment, he didn't know what to say. he was used to people noticing his strength, all his bravado and peacocking - but lenore seemed to see right through it, straight to the parts he tried to bury. 

"guess that's just part of the job," he finally said, his voice quiet.

lenore didn't reply right away. onstead, she reached out again, her fingers brushing against his wrist. dean froze, the small, deliberate touch grounding him.

"you're not just your job, dean," 

dean swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry. her words were simple, but they carried a weight that felt almost unbearable. "yeah, well," he muttered, forcing a smirk.

dean's gaze lingered on her, his smirk fading into something softer. he didn't know how she managed to do it, but she was tearing down walls he didn't even realize he'd built.

before he could say anything else, sam returned from the kitchen, a bottle of beer in one hand and a glass of water in the other.

"everything good in here?" he asked, his tone casual, but his eyes flicked between them with quiet curiosity.

"peachy," dean replied quickly, his usual bravado snapping back into place.

dean leaned back into the couch, letting the faint hum of the television fill the quiet space.

sam was sipping his beer, his attention half-focused on the screen, but dean couldn't tear his eyes away from lenore. her presence was magnetic, and even in the most mundane moment - sitting on the couch, she drew him in like a moth to a flame. 

she glanced at him and caught him staring. her lips curled into a knowing smile, and dean immediately averted his gaze, clearing his throat as if that would somehow erase the vulnerability he'd just displayed.

"what're we watching, anyway?" dean asked, his tone attempting to seem casual.

it was some crime show, the kind sam occasionally got hooked on. normally, dean would crack a joke about sam's nerdy taste in television, but right now, he was too distracted by the way lenore had subtly shifted closer to him.

her shoulder brushed his, just barely, but it was enough. he wanted to say something, do something, but instead, he stayed perfectly still, as if any sudden movement would break the fragile moment.

lenore leaned slightly toward him, her voice soft. "you seem tense," she observed, her eyes flicking to his hand, which was gripping his knee a little too tightly.

dean huffed a quiet laugh, his lips quirking into a smirk. "tense? nah. this is just my resting badass face."

sam snorted from his chair, not even looking up from his beer. "she's got you pegged, man."

dean shot him a glare. "nobody asked you, sasquatch."

lenore laughed softly, the sound warm and infectious. she shifted again, this time curling her legs up onto the couch and leaning more fully into dean's side. his entire body tensed at the contact, but he didn't pull away. if anything, he leaned into her slightly, letting the weight of her presence ground him.

"you're not as tough as you act," she said quietly, her soft voice just for him.

dean turned his head to look at her, his smirk faltering. her eyes were so comforting, so full of something he couldn't quite name, and it made his chest ache in a way he wasn't used to.

"don't let the word get out," he murmured, his voice low, almost tender.

her smile widened, but she didn't respond. instead, she let her head rest against his shoulder, her proximity filling him with a warmth that was both comforting and terrifying.

sam glanced over, raising an eyebrow but saying nothing. he took another sip of his beer, a faint smile tugging at his lips as he returned his gaze to the tv.

dean exhaled slowly, trying to relax into the moment, but his mind was racing. he didn't know what this was - what they were - but for once, he didn't feel the need to analyze it.

for now, he was content to let her stay close, her presence reminding him that maybe - just maybe - he didn't have to carry everything alone.

the fire burned low, its embers glowing like the remnants of a distant star, fragile and fleeting. lenore sat near its warmth, her form bathed in golden light, yet her shadow stretched long and deep, a quiet reminder of the weight she carried. outside, the snow continued its unrelenting descent, veiling the world in silence—a silence that seemed to breathe, to listen, to wait.

dean’s gaze lingered on her, though he told himself it was idle curiosity. she wasn’t looking at him, her green eyes fixed instead on the frost that crept along the edges of the windowpane. her hands rested still in her lap, yet there was a tension to her—an almost imperceptible tremor, like a string pulled taut, vibrating with the echoes of a song unsung.

“i thought the world would be brighter,” she said at last, her voice soft, a breath more than a sound. “i imagined the stars would sing louder, the earth would hum beneath my feet. but here… it feels heavier than i dreamed.”

dean shifted, leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees. he didn’t look at her, not directly, but he felt the weight of her words settle into him, rooting themselves in the cracks he rarely acknowledged.”earth’s not really one for singing,” he muttered, his voice rough yet low, as though the quiet demanded reverence. “it’s more… noise and chaos.” he glanced at her then, his green eyes flickering with something unspoken. “guess it takes some getting used to.”

she turned toward him, her gaze steady, unblinking. “and yet, even in the chaos, there is beauty.” her lips curved faintly, not quite a smile but something close. “perhaps it is the imperfection that makes it so.”

dean didn’t reply, couldn’t. her words struck something in him - something buried and forgotten, like a memory of warmth he hadn’t realized he’d lost.

sam, perched nearby with his ever-watchful gaze, said nothing. he let the silence stretch, knowing better than to interrupt whatever fragile understanding was weaving itself between them.

lenore shifted slightly, her wings invisible - yet ever-present in the way her posture spoke of burdens carried far too long. “the snow,” she murmured, her voice distant, “it falls without hesitation. it is neither cruel nor kind, yet it blankets the earth as though it were trying to soften its edges. i think… i envy its simplicity.”

dean tilted his head, his brow furrowing. “yeah, well,” he said, his tone lighter, though it couldn’t quite mask the gravel in his voice, “snow melts. doesn’t last long.”

lenore turned her gaze to him again, her eyes catching the firelight. “nothing does,” she whispered, “but perhaps that is why it matters.”

the room fell silent again, the crackle of the fire and the soft howling of the wind filling the space where words might have been. dean felt her words settling into him, as gentle and persistent as the snow outside, reshaping his edges in ways he didn’t yet understand.

for a moment, they stayed like that - three figures bound by circumstance and possibly even fate, surrounded by the quiet inevitability of the storm. and though the night stretched cold and endless outside, within the small cabin, a warmth lingered: fragile, fleeting, and perhaps, for the first time, enough.

lenore’s gaze lingered on the firelight, her expression softening as though the flames held secrets only she could see. her wings, though invisible, seemed to shift in her posture—a subtle lift, a quiet resilience breaking through the weariness.

“i thought i’d lost everything when i fell,” she said, her voice quiet but steady, like the first light of dawn breaking over a long night. her eyes lifted to meet dean’s, holding his gaze with an intensity that made him sit up straighter. “but now… i’m not so sure.”

dean tilted his head, his green eyes narrowing slightly. “what do you mean?”

lenore smiled then, faint but undeniable, as if she were seeing something they couldn’t yet. “maybe i fell for a reason,” she said softly, her tone carrying a note of wonder. her gaze drifted to sam, then back to dean. “maybe this… is where i was always meant to be.”

the silence that followed wasn’t heavy or tense—it was filled with something warmer, something unspoken but undeniable. the snow outside fell softer now, blanketing the world in a quiet peace. dean didn’t respond, but his jaw unclenched, and something in his chest loosened. maybe - just maybe - she was right.

[sjywrites]

Hii can I request Sophia x reader academic rivals? 🥺 u can do whatever u want w the plot pretty much please and thank u so much <3 :)

༊*·˚ ACADEMIC RIVALS LOVERS?

𝓢ophia 𝓛aforteza x 𝓖n!reader. (no pronouns used). 𝓖enre. fluff, angst if you squint 𝓢ypnosis. our two favourite academic rivals have a lil fight, but the situation turns bad, and people realize their feelings. 𝓦𝓒 . 824 𝓒𝓦 . mentions of being hospitalised (sophia), a little angsty!

𝓝ote! this is a little messy since I wrote it during one of my breaks, but please lmk if you want like a part two cuz I really liked this plot!

---

This is purely fiction and is not meant to interpret how the idols act in real life!

,, not proofread + english is not my first language ! ೃ⁀➷

At this point it didn’t even matter if you were better than everyone, you just had to be better than her. It started off very simple, both of you wanted to be better than everyone, academically that is. Eagerly waiting to get tests back and see who got a higher score, a smug grin on one's face when they got a better result than the other. No harm in that right? Wrong, that’s what started all of this.

Sophia walked towards me with her head held high, her uniform as neat as ever and her hair styled in a way making her look almost angelic. Wait, what? “What were your results?” She said, slamming her paper on top of my desk, I shook out of my daydreaming to answer her. “96.” I said while looking down in my maths book, trying to solve an equation but still focusing on what she would respond. She looks away and a teasing smirk spreads on her lips, and moves the finger that covered her results, 97. “Guess I’m just better than you huh?” She said proudly, staring down at me “Just because you got one point more than me doesn’t mean you’re better than me.” I said, pouting a little at her accusation.

Lately I’ve been feeling kind of… weird? Even if Sophia gets a higher score than me, I can’t find it in me to give a fuck. “Well, you’ve been slacking off a lot lately, I’ve gotten higher scores than you on the last four tests. So, I think that makes it obvious who's smarter!” Sophia states like it was the most obvious answer to what I said. Staring at her for a moment, I reply. “I've been busy okay, not everyone has that much free time to spend on studying, and you're talented in general, no wonder you get high scores” She looks shocked at my statement, then she smirks a little, “Did you just admit that I'm smart?” She looked proud in some way or another, “Not what I meant Sophia, but whatever floats your boat.” I grab my things from the desk and walk outside the classroom to my locker, a little frustrated at the whole situation. I did miss her response,

“I study that much so you won't think I'm stupid.”

A week goes by, no Sophia in sight. She missed two assignments, she's usually here every day. Even if she's sick, which I don't get why she does, but still. Did something happen to her? Was it something I did?

“You've been zoning out for the past like, three periods, what is going on with you today?” Lara, my best friend asks. “Do you know where Sophia is?” I ask, not really thinking before I ask. “Why do you want to know, don't you guys like, hate each other?” She looks at me with a very questionable look, suspecting something I cannot grasp, “Yes? No? I don't know Lara, but do you know where she is?” I say, a little confused and concerned. She looks at me with sad eyes before replying, “Y/N, Sophia got really sick out of nowhere, I heard she's at the hospital.” My eyes blew wide at the shocking news, why didn't she tell me? No, why would she do that? We're not even friends.

—

Am I really doing this? I think to myself as I open the hospital doors and stumble up to the kind-looking man in the lobby. I strike up a casual conversation with him as he guides me to a room, I thank him quickly before he scurries away.

There in the little window on the door I see her, Sophia's sitting down on the bed. Her hair is a mess and her clothes look ridiculous, it looks like she hasn't slept for a few days too. I gently open the door and her gaze falls upon me, it's easier to see her face now. She looks tired, really tired. “Hey…” I say, she looks away from me and cuddles up in her sitting position. “What are you doing here?” she tries to sound annoyed, but it just comes out in a tired huff. “I heard what happened, I… was worried about you. I brought some notes from the classes you missed.” She looks shocked at my confession, she relaxes her posture and her gaze becomes soft. “Thank you… I really appreciate it.” She smiles a little as she grabs the papers I handed her, our hands touching softly.

I look at her, really look at her. For the first time actually having time to admire how pretty she looks, how perfect her flaws are. “I just came to give you that… so if you don't need anything else, I'll go.” I turn around to walk away, grabbing the door knob and turning it around, “Wait! Will you… please stay with me a little longer, I need it.

I need you.”

this is so messy I'm sorrrrryyyy!! I wanted to post something today at least :((

[zuhaism]

⊹ ｡˚ 𓂃 ♡ BITTERSWEET FEELINGS ?!

[ navigation ]

pairing : jock!reader x meangirl!jimin

synopsis : you swore on your homies life jimins car wasnt there when you reversed. now you have to face the consequences of being jimins slave for the whole summer

a/n : IM BACK GUYS I FINISHED HIGHSCHOOL WOWOWOWOWOWO. i have a sophia fic cooking up in the oven pls give me motivation to write

the sun rays burns down on the pavement. casting shimmering heat waves off the rows of parked cars infront of the supermarket. the air smells like asphalt and faintly of gasoline. tension in the air so thick it might as well be solid and yet. none of it compares to the suffocating weight in your chest as you stare, in horror, at the very expensive, very sleek, very ruined black car in front of you.

you really didn’t mean to do it.

you swear on your mom’s life you didn’t.

but the horrifying crunch of metal against metal still rings in your ears. vibrating through your bones like the aftershock of an earthquake. your hands are frozen on the wheel, white-knuckled, and your breath catches somewhere between your ribs as you take in the undeniable dent you just gifted this beautiful, angry looking machine.

“oh. oh no. oh my god. i did not just—” you breathe out. stomach twisting in sheer horror. this wasn’t supposed to happen. you were supposed to run a quick errand. buy groceries for your mom. go home and continue your harry potter marathon. not this.

“stupid,” you mutter, smacking your forehead with the heel of your palm. “stupid, stupid, stupid—”

before you can even process your next move, the driver’s door swings open with a force that makes you flinch.

yu. fucking. jimin.

the richest kid in school. the kind of rich that makes people whisper behind her back, half in awe, half in resentment.

her dad owns the most luxurious country club in town. which of course, makes her the best golfer in school. not because she loves it, but because she was practically raised on the green. probably holding a club before she could even walk. she walks through the halls like she owns them (and maybe she does).

her head high, expression unreadable, never wasting words on people she doesn’t deem worth her time. she only keeps a tight circle. four friends. untouchable. (though one of them is your partner in chemistry , minjeong whose company you enjoy alot and you dont understand how a soft girl like her is best friends with jimin).

she gets whatever she wants. people trip over themselves to be on her good side. and when they're not? well. she makes them regret it. and right now, judging by the absolute murder in her eyes, you are very much not on her good side.

your brain short-circuits, all logical thought thrown straight out the window. your vision tunnels, your stomach flips, and before you can even register what’s happening, your head tips forward, smacking against the steering wheel.

the horn blares, loud and jarring, slicing through the summer air like a knife.

you jolt upright immediately, blinking fast, your heartbeat thundering in your ears. the world is still spinning, and yet one thing remains painfully clear. you are so, so screwed.

jimin stands there, arms crossed, sunglasses perched on her head, dark hair gleaming in the sunlight like something out of a goddamn magazine. the breeze tousles a few loose strands around her face. but her eyes dark, and burning with barely restrained fury stay locked on the damage, as if she’s willing the dent to disappear through sheer force of her eyes. her top tightly hugs her frame that almost made you pass out again

she exhales sharply, running a hand through her hair. the strands slip through her fingers effortlessly, like silk, and it almost distracts you from the murder written all over her expression. almost.

“you have got to be fucking kidding me,” she seethes. voice low. deadly.

her posture is stiff, shoulders squared, one perfectly manicured hand resting on her hip. the subtle shift of her weight onto one leg makes her stance look effortless, like she owns the entire parking lot and by extension, your life.

you, on the other hand, are still frozen in your car like a complete idiot.

“get. out.”

you scramble to obey. nearly getting tangled in your seatbelt in your rush. your sneakers scrape against the pavement as you finally step out. the heat hitting you full force, and you’re suddenly hyperaware of how dry your mouth is.

“okay, okay, before you, um, say anything…, i just wanna say that i deeply regret my actions and—”

“regret?” she scoffs. taking a slow, deliberate step forward. “you wrecked my car, hotshot. i don’t care about your regret. i care about my bumper.”

your nose scrunches. “hotshot?”

jimin tilts her head, mock innocence dripping with venom. “oh, is that not what they call you?”

your jaw clenches. face heating even more than it already was under the sun. “that’s uncalled for.”

“so was your car slamming into mine,” she deadpans.

“technically,” you start, trying desperately to ease the tension, “it’s my bumper that—”

“do not finish that sentence unless you want to die in this parking lot.”

you snap your mouth shut. “right. totally fair.”

jimin pinches the bridge of her nose. her patience clearly wearing thin. the sharp inhale she takes in through her nose is slow, measured, like she’s actively resisting the urge to strangle you.

“do you even have insurance?”

your stomach sinks. “…define insurance?”

the laugh that escapes her is dry, humorless, and a little terrifying. “oh, this is gonna be fun.”

you shift awkwardly on your feet. the asphalt radiating heat through the soles of your shoes. sweat drips down the back of your neck, and you resist the urge to wipe it away, because somehow, looking nervous in front of her feels even worse than actually being nervous.

“sooo… how much are we talkin’?” you try, forcing out a bright, if not completely panicked chuckle. “like, damage-wise? i-i can pay you back. eventually. probably.”

“no. no probably.”

her voice is steel, and when you look up, her arms are crossed again, her nails tapping against her elbow. she’s still looking at you like you just ran over her childhood pet, and it’s making your stomach churn.

“you will pay me back,” she continues, voice calm, controlled. and then, a smirk, slow and wicked, curls onto her lips. “or else.”

your pulse stutters. “or else… what?”

she leans in, just slightly, and suddenly, she’s everywhere. her scent, something expensive and infuriatingly pleasant, wrapping around you like a trap. your breath catches. it’s distracting, the way she moves, the effortless confidence. the quiet kind of power that makes your stomach twist.

“or else you’ll regret ever stepping behind a wheel, sweetheart.”

your mouth goes dry.

jimin is close, too close, and the sun catches on the sharp angles of her face, highlighting the slight arch of her brow, the press of her lips, the way her eyes are practically daring you to push your luck. your fingers twitch at your sides, and you swallow. you don’t know whether to be terrified or intrigued. maybe both.

“give me your number,” the warmth of her breath ghosts over your skin, and your brain short-circuits for a second. her perfume is something delicate yet undeniably expensive, the kind that lingers, the kind that’ll stick to your clothes if you stand here any longer.

you fumble with your phone, fingers clumsy, pulse hammering against your ribs. she watches, amused, and somehow, that makes it worse.

“i’ll text you all the details so get ready for one hell of a summer”

last night, at exactly midnight, an unknown number texted you. right of the bat you knew it was her. she texted you a demented and threatening text you’ve come to expect from her.

“tmrw 9am sharp at the country club. dress accordingly. don’t be late or i’ll make sure you regret ever stepping foot on a basketball court again.”

she knew exactly what she was doing, sending that text just late enough to ruin a good night’s sleep. you woke up dreading the day ahead, and now, you’re actually living it. the frustration settles in again like a second wave, thick and inescapable. you hate the stupid country club. hate the stupid sun burning the back of your neck. hate the stupid heavy golf bag on your shoulder. and jimin

…okay, maybe hate is a strong word.

but considering how smug she looks right now. immaculate as ever in a crisp white polo that fits her perfectly, tucked into an infuriatingly short skirt that only accentuates her toned legs. and goddamn those thighs– you think she deserves at least a little bit of it.

the way the country club aesthetic should be obnoxious but somehow works flawlessly on her only adds to your growing irritation. the neatly pressed uniform, the poised stance, the effortless air of privilege. even the faintest scent of something expensive. probably a perfume that costs more than your debt clings to her like an afterthought.

it's annoying.

she doesn’t even have to try.

jimin shifts her weight slightly, rolling her shoulders back as she adjusts her golf glove with slow, deliberate movements. she does everything with an infuriating sense of ease, like she knows she’s being watched and thrives on it. her fingers flex slightly before she pulls the glove snug, and when she finally turns to look at you, there’s a flicker of something in her gaze—amusement, condescension, curiosity. all neatly wrapped in a bow of insufferable confidence.

"this is actual, real-life torture," you grumble, adjusting the strap of the golf bag for what feels like the hundredth time as you follow her across the pristine green. the weight digs into your shoulder, pressing into already-sore muscles, and you know tomorrow will be hell. "can’t you just, i don’t know, get one of the employees to do this?"

jimin doesn’t even spare you a glance as she steps onto the tee box, stretching her arms above her head in a slow, languid motion. the movement elongates her frame, revealing a glimpse of her toned stomach, muscles flexing subtly under smooth skin. your throat goes dry, warmth creeping up your neck as you try, really try, not to react. you snap your gaze toward the horizon, willing yourself to think of anything else, but the image lingers stubbornly.

jimin, of course, is fully aware. she drops her arms with an easy grace, a knowing look flickering in her eyes before she turns away, the corner of her lips curving just slightly. not quite a smirk, but something close, something taunting. she rolls her wrists, settling into position like nothing happened, like she didn’t just momentarily wreck your focus with a stretch. "the employees," she says smoothly, rolling her wrist as she grips the club, "are not in debt to me for crashing into my car."

you groan, adjusting the heavy golf bag filled with clubs on your shoulder. easing the discomfort "you are never gonna let that go, are you?"

"not until you pay me back. and at the rate you’re going, that might take a while, hotshot." her voice is as sweet as honey but edged with superiority, like she’s savoring every second of your misery.

you clench your jaw. hotshot. again.

"you have to stop calling me that," you mutter, setting the bag down next to the tee box with more force than necessary, the weight making your arms ache.

except jimin isn’t looking at the bag. she’s watching you, the way your muscles shift as you move, the barely concealed strain in your shoulders. there’s something almost delighted in her gaze, like she’s found a new source of entertainment.

"oh? why? does it bother you?" she asks, plucking a driver from the bag with an ease that only irritates you further. the way her toned arms flex with the motion doesn't help either. she knows exactly what she’s doing, and judging by the quirk of her lips, she’s enjoying every second of your discomfort.

you narrow your eyes, crossing your arms. "it’s inaccurate."

she hums, lining up her shot, an infuriating smirk ghosting over her lips. "hmm. i disagree. you think you’re hot shit on the court, don’t you?"

her stance shifts slightly, feet planting firmly into the grass as she squares her shoulders. the way she moves is calculated. each adjustment precise, deliberate. you watch as her fingers curl around the grip, her knuckles flexing slightly as she angles her wrists just so. the air around her feels different in moments like this, a sharp contrast to the casual arrogance she usually wears like a second skin.

before you can respond, she swings. smooth. effortless. perfect.

the club slices through the air with a quiet whisper, and the ball soars down the course, landing dead center on the fairway. jimin straightens, tilting her head as she finally turns to look at you, self-satisfaction radiating from every inch of her.

"well?" she asks, the challenge clear in her voice.

you blink. what was the question again?

you clear your throat, forcing your expression into something unimpressed. "eh. i’ve seen better."

jimin steps closer, and you swear there’s something different in her movements now. something looser, almost playful. she twirls the club in her hands, letting it dig into the ground after catching it again. she rests on one leg as the other twists over another and leaned onto the club. "oh? who?"

you open your mouth, but nothing comes out.

she smirks. "thought so."

your cheeks heat for some stupid reason, and you quickly turn to grab the golf bag. except you miscalculate the weight, and the sudden shift nearly sends you stumbling forward. you barely catch yourself, muscles straining as you regain control, arms flexing instinctively.

jimin doesn’t say anything.

which is weird. because jimin always has something snarky to say.

when you glance up, you catch her staring. her gaze flickers, just for a second, down to your arms. subtle, almost unnoticeable, but you see it. the faintest parting of her lips, the quick inhale. a hesitation she probably isn’t even aware of.

you blink.

she blinks.

and just like that, her usual sharp expression returns, like she wasn’t just caught red-handed checking you out.

"keep up, caddy," she says coolly, turning on her heel. walking ahead of you

but her voice isn’t as sharp as before. slightly wavering and breathless.

you squint at her.

that was definitely something.

you hoist the golf bag onto your shoulder with a frustrated sigh, muttering under your breath as you follow after her. "this is gonna be the worst summer of my life."

she doesn’t turn around, but you swear you see the tiniest smirk.

the day only got worse from there. as if lugging around a golf bag that felt like it was stuffed with bricks wasn’t enough, you quickly learned that being jimin’s caddy also meant serving as her personal errand runner. every time she hit a ball off-course. which, to your growing dismay, was more often than you expected. she’d wave you off with a casual, “go fetch.”

and so, you trudged through endless patches of rough, waded through ankle-deep ponds, and even had to dig through bushes that seemed personally offended by your presence. at one point, you nearly lost your footing in a muddy ditch, and when you glanced back at jimin for some semblance of pity, she was too busy taking pictures. of you.

she was documenting your suffering.

"you’re actually evil," you huffed, you grumble, wiping a streak of dirt from your cheek with the back of your hand.

jimin forces her expression into something neutral, trying not to squeal at how adorable you look with a streak of dirt near where you just rubbed. ignoring the way her pulse has picked up.

"oh, come on, hotshot. i’m giving you a real athlete’s workout,” her voice comes out smoother than she expects, she can feel a slight waver in her voice. adjusting her visor with a smile that was entirely too pleased seeing you all dirty. she watches you bend down again, muscles flexing under that stupidly tight shirt. the sun clings to your skin, highlighting every sharp dip and defined ridge of your back as you drag another golf ball out of the mud.

before she can think twice she snaps another photo and sends it away into the groupchat. Her camera roll is basically just a collection of you suffering. her fingers hesitate before sending another one. she observed the recent picture; dirt smeared across your sharp jaw, shirt sticking to your back, the messy, tousled way your bangs fall over your forehead.

you look–

she presses her lips together, hard trying to shoo away the tingling feeling in her lower stomach. she swallows, shifting as you shake the ball off, sending tiny droplets flying, some landing on your shirt. the fabric clings a little more, stretched over the plane of your shoulders, and jimin lets out a slow, measured exhale through her nose. gaining her composure. her phone vibrates.

minjeong : omfg is she into women

aeri : BRO THAT BACKK

ningning : jimin why are you not on your knees begging for it

she rolled her eyes at her friends reactions towards the recent picture she sent with a caption of “asshole looking for the money she owes me”

but she isn’t fooling anyone. least of all herself. because when you push yourself up again, wiping sweat off your face with the hem of your shirt, exposing the faintest hint of your stomach, jimin’s stomach flips. she squeezes her thighs together. she needs to get a grip.

“you done gawking?”

her head snaps up. your brows are raised, a smirk playing at your lips as you watch her, amusement flickering in your eyes.

fuck.

"please," she scoffs, shoving her sunglasses back onto her face to hide her cheeks turning red. "don't flatter yourself."

she turns on her heel before she can do something humiliating. like actually drop to her knees.

jimin tells herself she’s just enjoying the entertainment. that’s all this is. watching you struggle under the weight of the golf bag, huffing as you haul clubs around like you’re in a survival challenge, is simply amusing.

but then there’s the way your shoulders flex when you readjust the strap. the way your forearms tighten when you lift a particularly heavy bag. the way your back muscles ripples under your shirt whenever you bend down to grab a stray golf ball.

it keeps the bad thoughts coming

she rolls her wrist, pretending to focus on lining up her next shot, but her mind is elsewhere. on the way you pushed your sleeves up earlier, the way your fingers curled around the soaked golf ball when you pulled it out of the pond. on the way you muttered under your breath, exasperated but still doing what she asked.

she clicks her tongue, shaking off the thought. Ridiculous. still, when you lift the bag onto your shoulder again, jaw set in stubborn determination, she feels something stupid and fluttery in her stomach.

“you better not be slacking back there, hotshot,” she calls out, voice steady, even if she feels anything but.

when you glare at her, eyes full of irritation, she almost forgets to breathe. you mutter something under your breath, probably another complaint about how unfair this whole arrangement is, and jimin should let it slide. she really should. but instead, she glances over just in time to catch the way you roll your shoulders back, shaking out the soreness like you’re on the court, like you’re about to sprint past defenders and sink a perfect shot. it’s so effortless—so natural—that for a second, she isn’t thinking about your debt or your grumbling or how much fun it is to make you suffer.

for a second, she’s just watching you move. her fingers tighten around her club.

“you’re really struggling, huh?” she teases, forcing her tone to stay light, even as something deep in her chest feels a little less steady. “should’ve hit the weight room instead of all that dribbling.”

you scoff, swinging the bag off your shoulder with one smooth motion. “please. you’d collapse if you had to carry this thing for five minutes.”and jimin should roll her eyes. should brush off the remark like she always does. but then you flex your hands, fingers stretching before tightening into a brief fist, veins barely visible against your skin.

her stomach does something weird.

she exhales sharply through her nose, turns away, and focuses very hard on adjusting her glove.

“whatever helps you sleep at night, hotshot.”

when she hears you groan behind her, she smiles to herself. but she doesn’t look back.

doesn’t trust herself to.

as you got ready for bed you read the text sent by the same unknown number from yesterday night. “7:30 sharp at the docks. eat bfr coming. im not feeding you. bring swim wear and a change of clothes.” you groaned loudly trying not to think about what she’ll be doing next.

“no fucking way.”

the words slip past your lips before you can stop them, eyes locked onto the massive yacht bobbing lazily on the crystal-clear water. sunlight bounces off the pristine white exterior, almost blinding, the sheer size of the vessel making your stomach twist with unease.

jimin stands a few feet ahead, completely at ease, like she was born to be here. her sunglasses are perched on top of her head, holding back strands of dark hair that catch in the wind. but that’s not what’s throwing you off.

it’s what she’s wearing.

the bikini is black, tiny, the kind that barely counts as clothing under the oversized white button up. the top ties behind her neck, accentuating the curve of her collarbones, the smooth lines of her shoulders. the bottoms sit high on her hips, the strings digging just enough into her skin to make something tighten low in your stomach.

the button up hanging loose off one shoulder, dipping low enough to tease the shape of her waist. it should make it less distracting, but it does the exact opposite. every time she moves, the material shifts, threatening to slip just enough to reveal more.

the teasing skin peaking from her button up that barely covers anything made something tighten in your lower stomach. you clenched your stomach muscle trying to regain grip of reality.

she finally glances back at you, raising a single brow like you’re being dramatic. “what?”

you blink, dragging your gaze up to her face like you hadn’t just been staring. “this is insane.” you gesture vaguely at the boat, trying to focus. “this is … this is some billionaire level shit. why am i here?”

her lips curl into a smirk, effortless and sharp. "because im not manning the sails this time, and luckily, you’re in debt to me."

before you can shoot back a very creative insult, a new voice cuts in, light, teasing, but with an unmistakable authority. "jimin, don’t be mean to your friend."

you turn just in time to see a woman stepping onto the dock, effortlessly elegant in a white sundress, dark hair twisted into a perfect bun. she moves like she belongs in a high end magazine, every step deliberate, eyes sharp as they take you in. and she looks exactly like how you’d imagine jimin looks like in 30 years.

"she's not my friend, mother," jimin corrects smoothly, adjusting her sunglasses. "she's my employee." smirking smugly as her mother grimaces at her oldest daughter. you shoot her a glare. "wow. charming as ever."

jimin’s mother merely smiles, amused. by how you handled her moody daughter. "well, employee or not, she's a guest today. come on, everyone's waiting on the boat."

you have no choice but to follow, your arm brushing against jimin’s as you step onto the yacht. the contact is brief, barely anything, but it makes your skin prickle, your senses hyper-aware of her proximity.

jimin isn't sure why she thought today would be easy.

it should be. she should be enjoying herself sailing with her family, soaking up the sun, watching you struggle to keep up. enjoying the sounds of your misery.

but instead, she’s distracted.

you’re sitting on the edge of the boat, legs stretched out, the ocean breeze playing with your hair. jimin watches, unable to help herself.

it’s not the muscles that have her staring, the muscles that she could vividly see from your white blouse that clings to your back, not really. it’s the way you move. the way your fingers work at the sleeves of your t-shirt, rolling them up with an absentminded ease, knotting the fabric at your elbows like it’s second nature. the way the sun clings to your skin, highlighting the gentle slopes of your arms, the curve of your shoulders. she doesn’t fail to notice the way your forearm muscles tightens as you fix your sleeve.

when you reach up to wipe at your forehead, a loose strand of hair falls into your face. you don’t notice at first, too busy squinting at something in the distance. then, with the smallest furrow of your brows, you shake your head just enough to make it shift, the motion unintentional, frustratingly endearing. and slightly domestic.

jimin’s chest tightens.

you’re adorable. ridiculously cute— no. stop it no shes not. she’s an asshole. she’s a stupid prick that crashed into your car.

and then you laugh quietly, mostly to yourself, like you just remembered something funny. the sound is soft, barely carried by the wind, but jimin feels it like a physical thing, like it reaches out and tugs at something deep inside her.

jimin looks away immediately, but it doesn’t help. because even when she’s not looking at you, she can still hear you—your quiet laughter, the soft hum you make under your breath as you stretch out your arms, the way you mutter something to yourself like you’re having a conversation in your own head.

she scowls. you’re so... you. completely unaware of the way you pull people in, make them want to lean closer, watch a little longer. it’s infuriating.

her fingers tighten around the railing. get a grip, jimin. but it’s hard when you keep doing things like scrunching your nose in concentration, tilting your head like a confused puppy at the sails above, or biting your lip in thought. completely unaware that someone is watching you, studying you.

and maybe that’s what’s getting to her the most.

it’s not the muscles, not the way you look, not even the way you carry yourself. it’s the way you exist, so utterly and completely in your own world. so unguarded. jimin doesn’t do unguarded. she doesn’t do soft, doesn’t do the kind of feelings that make your stomach twist and your throat feel tight. she does casual. she teases and flirts and doesn’t get attached.

she clears her throat, flexing her fingers before curling them into fists. she needs to do something—anything—to snap herself out of it.

“you’re gawking,” a voice beside her says, amused.

jimin stiffens. “am not.”

hanni, leaning lazily against the railing, tilts her head with the smuggest expression. “right. because you totally weren’t just staring like you forgot how to blink.” jimin scoffs, shoving her sunglasses onto her face with too much force. “you’re delusional.”

“and you’re in denial.”

jimin ignores her, choosing to focus on the water instead. the waves are steady, predictable, easy to think about. not like what she’s feeling in her chest. when she sees you dangling your feet from the yacht.

but hanni isn’t done.

“you know,” she hums, rocking onto the balls of her feet, “if you keep looking at her like that, someone might get the wrong idea.”

jimin doesn’t turn. “there is no idea to get.” she says firmly.

hanni grins. “sure. whatever you say, unnie.”

you shouldn't be enjoying this. well technically the hard labour hasn’t started yet. so you’re trying to enjoy the open water and much needed fresh air before jimin makes you her slave again. it feels nice.

"you seem to be having fun," jimin remarks, stepping up beside you. breaking the silence. here we go you thought. after ignoring her little sisters’ teasing. or, talk, you didn’t hear what they talked about but jimin looked pretty riled up after what hanni said. she’s decided to interrupt your peace and make your day worse.

you shrug, stretching your arms above your head with a dramatic sigh. "what can i say? i thrive in any environment." you said as you placed both arms beside letting it fall lazily. leaning on it. you blink your eyes open, glancing at her. her sunglasses are perched high on her nose, shielding her gaze, but you can still feel her looking. observing you.

her lips twitch, as if amused. "you nearly died on the green yesterday."

"yeah, well." you shift arms as you drawl out, shooting her a lopsided grin. "i'm an adaptable person."

there’s a beat of silence, but not the peaceful kind. it’s charged, stretching between you like a live wire. jimin’s head tilts ever so slightly, her gaze sweeping over you in a way that’s too slow, too deliberate. it makes your skin prickle, the hairs on the back of your neck standing on end.

"apparently."

something about the way she says it makes your pulse jump. you shift under her scrutiny, suddenly too warm.her sunglasses may hide her eyes, but the smirk curling at the corner of her lips betrays her. it’s not just amused. it’s knowing, like she’s already several steps ahead of you in whatever game she’s playing. you shift, suddenly aware of how warm your skin feels. not from the sun, but from her unwavering attention.

"why are you looking at me like that?" you ask, voice coming out less steady than you wanted.

jimin doesn’t answer right away. instead, she steps in, just enough that the scent of her expensive perfume. fresh and citrusy, but with a sharp undertone wraps around you. she leans in, just slightly, just enough to test the space between you.

"like what?" she asks, voice lilting, teasing.

your voice stuck in your throat. you swallow.

"like you’re plotting my demise." you reply, forcing yourself to hold your ground.

her smirk deepens. she reaches up, adjusting her sunglasses with two fingers, and you catch a glimpse of her eyes beneath them. dark, glinting with something unreadable. "maybe i am."

the way she says it, low and smooth, sends an unwelcome shiver down your spine. you roll your eyes, ignoring the way your heartbeat picks up. "so much for enjoying the breeze."

jimin hums, dragging a slow gaze down the length of you before flicking it back up, lazy and considering. she taps a finger against her chin, as if in deep thought, before her lips curl into something far too smug.

"since you're so adaptable," she says, gesturing toward the rigging with an air of faux innocence, "you can help with the sails."

you groan, trudging over. she watches you come closer, arms crossed, lips curling ever so slightly.

she is not looking at your arms again.

she’s not.

the moment jimin smirked at you and told you to help with the sails, you should’ve known you were about to be thrown into another situation where you had no idea what you were doing. you squint at the ropes in your hands, then at the towering mast, then at the intricate mess of rigging all around. why are there so many ropes?

"you look confused," jimin says, standing just a little too close behind you.

"i am confused," you reply. "this is, like, rich people knowledge. i don’t know how to do any of this."

she huffs out a laugh. it almost sounds melodic in your ears. "rich people knowledge?"

"yes." you tug experimentally at one of the ropes, watching it pull at something above. "why do you even know how to do this? you’re not a pirate."

"my father made me learn when i was younger," she says. "he said that if we were going to own a yacht, we should at least know how to use it properly."

you snort. "wow. tragic backstory."

"just shut up and let me teach you," she mutters, stepping in closer.

you open your mouth to protest, but then her hands find yours.

your brain short-circuits.

her touch is soft– unexpectedly so. but firm, her fingers pressing lightly against yours, guiding them over the rope with practiced ease. her skin is cool against your own, which feels too warm all of a sudden, heat blooming along your knuckles, creeping up your arms. you swear its the burning sun right above you.

she leans in slightly, voice lower now that she’s right beside you. "you need to loop it like this. if you tie it too loose, the sail won’t hold. too tight, and you’ll mess up the balance."

you nod, but it’s a lie. you barely register what she’s saying.

because she’s close. close enough that her shoulder brushes against yours, close enough that you can smell the faint trace of her perfume mixed with the salt of the ocean. the warmth of her breath ghosts over your skin as she exhales, sending a shiver trailing down your spine.

your fingers twitch under hers. "right. got it," you manage, though your voice is slightly higher than usual. jimin chuckles low, quiet, right near your ear. your stomach flips. she’s enjoying this. you can tell. and judging by the smug curve of her lips when you glance at her, she knows exactly what she’s doing to you.

you fumble with the ropes when she moves away as the wind picks up and before you know it, the rope slips through your fingers like water. the sail jerks violently in response, the sudden shift sending a sharp ripple through the boat.

"Shit-" you let out.

jimin moves fast, instinct kicking in as she reaches for the rigging to correct your mistake. but in the process, she miscalculates and her foot catches against yours that made her stumble.

and then, so do you.

your back slams against the side of the boat, the wooden railing pressing into your spine as you suck in a sharp breath. the impact sends a jolt through your body, momentarily stunning you, but your instincts take over before you can think. one hand grabs onto the railing for support, while the other finds jimin’s waist, fingers tightening reflexively around the fabric of her shirt where you can subtly feel her curves.

she stumbles into you fully, her body pressing flush against yours.

your heart stutters.

at the same time, jimin’s arm slings over your shoulder in a desperate attempt to steady herself, the warmth of her palm seeping through your long sleeves swim suit where she grips your biceps. her other hand is splayed against your arm, fingers digging in just enough for you to feel the faint press of her nails.

and suddenly, you’re close.

too close. you could feel the curves of her body against you. and how small she is in yor arms.

her body is warm, the scent of salt and sunscreen clinging to her skin. you can feel the way she breathes, chest rising and falling against yours. every small shift sends a spark of awareness shooting down your spine, your pulse hammering in your ears as the realization sinks in.

jimin is practically in your arms and she isn’t moving. neither are you.

her sunglasses slip down her nose from the movement, revealing her eyes for the first time today. deep brown, glinting under the sun, flickering with something you can’t quite read.

your breath catches in your throat. she looks so beautiful.

the ocean breeze swirls around you, but all you can feel is the heat radiating from her skin. your fingers twitch at her waist, hyper-aware of the way the fabric of her shirt feels beneath your palm, the slight give of her small body against yours. and the way you could subtly feel some of her skin against your swim wear.

jimin’s grip on your shoulder tightens, her jaw clenched, lips parted like she’s trying to find the right words. but none come. you dont know whats going through her mind but you knew for sure she isn’t moving when you saw how her eyes flickered to your lips. somehow it made your heart flutter.

you could feel her leaning into you slightly.

and then—

"are you two gonna kiss or what?"

the words cut through the moment like a gunshot.

you jerk back, nearly losing your footing, barely managing to catch yourself before you go overboard. while jimin’s reaction is immediate. her head whips around so fast her visor nearly flies off, her expression shifting from surprise to outright murderous in the blink of an eye.

"seriously?" she snaps.

hanni, standing a few feet away, leans against the railing with the smuggest grin you’ve ever seen. jimin groans, yanking herself out of your grasp, face scrunched in exasperation. you, on the other hand, are still stuck processing what just happened, trying to ignore the way your pulse is hammering in your ears. and how you miss the closeness between you two.

after jimin left you to man the sails alone while she went to cool off, you actually got pretty good at it. her dad even threw in some pointers, guiding you through the ropes. literally. by now, you had a decent handle on things, adjusting the sails without fumbling, reading the wind like it was second nature. the boat had drifted far from shore, the coastline long gone, replaced by nothing but open water stretching endlessly in every direction.

"you can slow down here, y/n," jimin’s dad called from behind you as you pulled at the ropes, adjusting the sails to ease the boat to a gentler pace. you heard him shift, standing to get a better look at the sea. "your friend’s a natural, jimin. almost better than you!" his voice carried a teasing lilt.

you glanced toward where jimin sat, catching the way her expression twisted in surprise, then in pure irritation. she scoffed, rolling her eyes before mumbling something you couldn’t quite catch under her breath.

you smirked, triumphant, meeting her gaze.

she narrowed her eyes. then, she raised her hand and flipped you off. unhinged woman. your smirk faltered. rude.

but before you could retaliate, jimin moved. without hesitation, she stood, reaching for the buttons of her white shirt. and then she pulled it off.

your brain short-circuited.

the world around you dimmed, the sound of the ocean fading into white noise as your eyes locked onto the sight in front of you. jimin, standing tall against the backdrop of the sea, the late afternoon sun catching on her skin, making her glow.

she wore a dark bikini underneath, the contrast against her pale sun-kissed skin. her collarbones, sharp and delicate, dipped into smooth shoulders. her toned stomach tensed slightly as she tossed her shirt aside, the movement effortless, like she’d done this a thousand times before.

you were gawking.

full-on, shamelessly gawking.

your brain screamed at you to stop staring, trying to maintain your pride. but your body refused to cooperate. your grip on the ropes slackened slightly, fingers numb as your heart threw itself against your ribs.

jimin caught the look on your face and smirked.

"what?" she teased, tilting her head slightly, the picture of nonchalance. "you act like you’ve never seen someone undress before."

you opened your mouth.whether to respond or gasp for air, you weren’t sure. but nothing came out.

jimin grinned, pleased with herself, before turning toward the edge of the boat. with one quick motion, she dove into the water, leaving you standing there, still reeling, heat creeping up your neck.

you blinked.

then, as if snapping out of a trance, you stumble forward, rushing to the railing. “i—i have!” the words rush out too fast, tripping over themselves, your voice cracking at the end. you cringe.

jimin flicked her hair back as water drips from her lashes. she treads the water effortlessly, blinking up at you with an infuriatingly amused expression. “oh?” her tone is light, teasing, but there’s something smug underneath it, something that makes your stomach twist. “sure doesn’t sound like it.”

your grip on the railing tightens, knuckles paling. “what—i—" you struggle to form a coherent thought, already feeling your face burning. “i have! plenty of times! so many times!”

her giggles spills into the air, bright and carefree, and it does something to you makes your heart stutter, your skin prickle with warmth. she tilts her head back, still treading water, the sun catching in her damp hair. “right, sure. totally convincing.”

you scowl, shifting on your feet, jaw tightening. “it’s true! i’ve seen—” you pause, realizing too late that you have absolutely no idea how to finish that sentence without sounding even more embarrassing. “—a lot. like, more than you. probably.”

jimin raises a brow, cocking her head. “oh? who?”

your stomach twists into a knot, your brain sending red flags. screaming at you to abort mission immediately. you clear your throat, straightening up, forcing a casual shrug. “no,” you say, too quickly. “that’s private information.”

jimin watches you for a beat, her lips twitching like she’s holding back another laugh. then she smirks, shaking her head. “uh-huh. totally not a virgin.”

“i’m not!” you blurt, leaning forward slightly, the desperation in your voice betraying you.

her grin only widens, eyes twinkling with mischief as she sways in the water. “whatever helps you sleep at night, captain.”

you groan, dropping your head against the railing in defeat as she swims off, still laughing, while you try to cooldown after the embarrassing encounter.

“y/n! jump in!” you heard hanni yell from behind you. as you lift your head up you saw her lining up to jump in. she jumped in with a big splash. droplets sprayed onto the deck. jimin’s mom called out “hanni be careful!”

your gaze shifts slightly, catching sight of jimin a few feet away, floating on her back with her eyes closed, her dark hair fanning out around her like ink in the water. her skin glistens under the sun, droplets clinging to her collarbones, trailing down the curve of her neck. you sighed, your body got hot after the embarrassing encounter and also seeing jimin swim. you needed to cool down. you exhale sharply, shaking yourself out of it. if you stay up here any longer, you’ll combust.

you roll your shoulders back, determined to regain at least a fraction of your dignity, and then you jumped. the moment you hit the water, a sharp chill runs through you, sending a jolt up your spine. it’s refreshing, the kind of coolness that makes your skin tingle, but it’s a relief from the heat that had been burning through you moments ago.

you resurface with a gasp, shaking water from your face, and when you blink the droplets away, the first thing you see is jimin.

she’s closer now. much closer.

your breath catches as she treads the water effortlessly, dark strands of wet hair clinging to her cheeks. the sun reflects off the droplets on her skin, making them glisten like tiny diamonds. she studies you, her gaze flickering over your face with a glint of something unreadable.

“not bad,” she hums, tilting her head slightly.

you scoff, trying to ignore the way your skin prickles under her gaze. “i’d say the same for you, but you practically belly-flopped.”

jimin rolls her eyes, a smirk playing at her lips. you turn to swim away, but just as you do water hit your back. splash. you freeze. the feeling of cold water hits your back, sending a shiver up your spine.you turn back around slowly, and there she is half-smirking, half-feigning innocence, fingers still dripping from where she flicked water at you.

“did you just—?”

before you can finish your sentence, another splash comes at you, bigger this time, sending water cascading over your face. you sputter, wiping at your eyes, and jimin bursts out laughing, the sound rich and full, like wind chimes in the summer breeze.

thats it.

with no hesitation, you lunge forward, sweeping your hand through the water to send a wave right at her. she squeals, ducking just a second too late, and now it’s her turn to be dripping wet.

before you can react, she lunges toward you, fingers skimming along your arm as she tries to dunk you under. practically drowning you. instinctively, you grab her waist, attempting to shove her away, but the water betrays you both. it makes everything weightless, the waves crashing between your bodies pulling both of your boddies together. bodies tangling and shifting without control.

somehow, amongst the struggle, her arms end up draped over your shoulders, and your hands—god, your hands—find purchase at her waist again, fingers pressing into the bare skin beneath the hem of her swimsuit.

for a moment, neither of you move.

you can feel her breath against your face, warm despite the cool water surrounding you. the soft rhythm of her chest rising and falling against yours. the way her fingers tighten, just slightly, curling over the nape of your neck.

her eyes flicker up to meet yours deep brown, like melted chocolate, like something you could get lost in if you weren’t careful. they shift lower for a split second, down to your lips, before darting back up again.

your heart slams against your ribs. it looks like shes about to kiss you. a little voice in your head hoping she would and you swear the world tilts. or maybe it’s just the waves.

jimin blinks once, twice, her lashes damp and heavy with water, before her expression shifts. something playful flickers back into her eyes, her lips twitching.

and then, she shoves you under.

you barely have time to yelp before water fills your ears, muffling the sound of her laughter. when you break the surface again, gasping for air, she’s already swimming away, shooting you a look over her shoulder that’s equal parts smug and daring.

“too slow,” she calls out.

you push your wet hair back, panting, watching her retreating figure with something caught between disbelief and something else entirely. something warmer.

you remember the way her fingers curled at the nape of your neck. the way her breath fanned against your lips. the way, for a split second, it felt like the world had shrunk down to just the two of you.

you shake your head, forcing a scoff, trying to ignore the way your pulse is still erratic. this is jimin. jimin. the same girl who flipped you off an hour ago, who smirked as she stripped off her shirt just to get a reaction out of you.

nothing about this is different. you assure yourself. and yet, as you watch her swim away, her laughter still echoing in your ears, you can’t shake the feeling that something bloom in your chest.

[lovecla]

IF YOU LOVE ME, LET ME KNOW | jack hughes.

00.3. how was your first night together?

➴ warnings: nsfw, rough sex, oral sex (f. receiving), use of the word slut, bit of humiliation, dacryphilia, subspace kinda?, protected sex, nipple sucking, curse words, aftercare, cockwarming, dirty talk.

➴ word count: 2.2k

➴ author’s note: i have nothing to say for myself… also, this is the first straight smut I write in YEARS. so pls bear with me… also2, im highly aware that jack is probably a cutie pie during sex (and dw!! we’ll get there eventually) but something abt this jack… makes me dizzy. hope u all enjoy!!

—♡

LEAVING the party with this man— you still didn’t even know his name— was probably the best decision you had ever made, after auditioning for that one show that changed your life back when you were thirteen.

The pretty boy drove you to his actual house and rested his hand on your thigh the entire ride. You could feel yourself getting wetter and wetter with the thought of letting a man, who you barely even knew, fuck you senseless.

Maybe Grace was right and you did have a little bit of a thing for humiliation.

Although nothing compared to when he opened the door of his huge house for you, and kissed you before he had even closed it properly. His kiss was bruising and angry, his hands gripping your waist with just the right amount of strength and you could swear you were melting in his arms.

“Fuck,” you moaned, sitting on his lap. “What’s your name?”

He laughed, eyes red and mouth swollen. “You don’t know who I am?”

“No?” You raised your eyebrow, smirking.

“I’m Jack Hughes.” He said, looking bothered by the fact that you didn’t know who he was.

“Hi, Jack Hughes,” you said, rocking your hips against his. “I’m Sophia.”

“Oh, I know who you are, baby,” he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “That concert Nico went to? I was there too.”

Now that surprised you.

“Cat got your tongue, baby?” He was the one smirking now. You rolled your eyes.

“Less yapping and more fucking. I’m starting to think you’re full of shit.”

You barely had time to finish breathing after your sentence before he grabbed you by your waist, and lifted you, forcing you to wrap your legs around his waist.

He somehow managed to climb up the stairs while holding you and hell if that didn’t make you wetter. You could feel your panties sticky and glued to your intimate part, and honestly there wasn’t anything that you wanted more than to remove them.

He placed you in the bed, gentler than you’d expect him to, and you watched as he removed his suit, his toned abs making you clench around nothing. He pushed his somewhat long hair back before getting his hands on you again.

“Let’s get this monstrosity out of you,” he growled before almost ripping the jersey out of you. You laid on the bed now wearing just your bra and your mini-skirt. “Much better.”

You turned around, deciding that he deserved a show. Removing your bra, you actually moaned when you felt the cold air hit your hard nipples. You fought the need of touching them, and went straight to removing your skirt and panties, not letting yourself feel shy or embarrassed.

You felt Jack’s hands on you, turning you around and getting you on your knees. He looked at you like a predator and from just one look at his pants, you could tell that that man was packed.

“Here’s what you’re gonna do, baby,” he whispered, blue eyes staring down at you. “You’re gonna sit that sweet, needy cunt on my face, and I’m gonna eat you out until you’re coming. Then,” he stepped closer, not breaking eye contact. “I’m gonna fuck you fast and rough. That’s how I like it. And with that slutty face of yours,” he scoffed, eyes full of lust and desire. “I’m guessing that’s how you like it too.”

You bit your lips, nodding with your head, because you didn’t trust yourself enough to do anything besides moaning.

He removed the rest of his clothes and, yay, you were right, but also— fuck. You were right. His cock was big and thick and looked like it would reach your stomach and rearrange your organs.

Just how you liked it.

He laid on the bed and grabbed your hips, making you sit on his face, and when the tip of his tongue met your aching clit, you swear you saw stars.

You were holding yourself on the headboard, not wanting to hurt him. He looked like a great guy, and didn’t deserve to die because he suffocated during sex.

But it looked like he had other plans.

“I think I told you to sit your cunt on my face, didn’t I?”

“Yes, but—”

“Do as I fucking say.” Even though he said it, he was the one who grabbed your thighs and pulled you down, making your pussy cover his entire mouth.

Your moans were probably heard from across the street, but you didn’t care. It had been way too long since your last time and this? This was heaven. Jack was a fucking munch. The way he licked your clit and fucked his tongue inside you? Yeah, he knew what he was doing.

“J-Jack, fuck,” you heard yourself saying, eyes starting to feel wet and mind going all blank. “God, what the fuck.”

The wet noises could be heard whenever your moans came out softly, and his hands on your thighs only made it all better, because you knew it would bruise. You knew it would leave a mark there and it felt so good to know that this was the man marking you up.

You looked down by accident and you came right on the spot when you made eye contact with the man underneath you; it should have been embarrassing to look at him eating you out but it wasn’t anything like that. You felt owned and desired. You felt whole.

He removed his lips from your pussy, not before licking it a few times, and turned you around, him on top of you. He moved so he could grab the condom from the bedside table— fuckboy move, totally— and you watched as he put it on.

He kissed you one more time while he inserted himself on you, not really giving you the time to adjust. You felt your hole burning, and it felt good. You were so wet that the squelching sounds were almost embarrassing, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. He was hitting you on the right spots.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” he murmured, slamming into you with force. “Pussy so ‘fuckin tight for me. Holy shit.”

“Harder, p-please,” you heard yourself saying and you saw how his bright, blue eyes were changing into a dark, ocean color. You saw danger in them.

“You’re still speaking so I guess I’m not doing my job the right way, huh?” He said, taking almost all of his cock out just to slam it back into you with strength.

Your mind was going to a very strange place where you couldn’t really think straight and even though that should be scary, you felt nothing but… free.

The pleasure was so fucking good and your pussy had never felt so satisfied, as corny as it sounded. He had his lips on your right nipple, sucking and biting, his right hand rubbing your clit fast and precise, while his dick slammed into you with the right amount of pressure.

You could feel the tension building up inside of you and you knew you were going to come again, and soon, but when you tried to say something, warn him, it felt like you had grabbed a stick of glue and glued your mouth shut.

But it was too much, your legs were trembling and your eyes were wet, tears cascading down your face. You knew your face was red and probably slutty like Jack had said but it didn’t matter.

“Poor slut can’t even talk, mhm?” You heard Jack mock you, and fuck if it didn’t make you clench your hole around his dick. “You liked being called that, didn't you? Little slut. My brainless, stupid slut.”

His hand started to move faster on your clit and you tried to close your legs, out of pure instinct.

“None of that, sweetheart,” he whispered in your ear, still fucking you rough and hard. “Keep those pretty, little legs open for me. Isn’t that what you’re here for? Letting me, a guy who you barely know, fuck you senseless.”

You were fully crying now, holding onto him with so much force, secretly thankful that he was a Hockey player and probably used to all the roughness.

“I-I’m gonna,” you mumbled, not even thinking straight.

“You’re gonna come on my cock, sweetheart? Yeah? Gonna make a mess for me and wet my bed sheets even more?”

You felt yourself nodding, biting your lips when you felt yourself coming. Jack was still fucking you, searching for his own release. He lifted himself just enough to grab you by your waist and slam himself into you, over and over again.

Your tits went up and down and your eyes went to the back of your head.

“Fuck, I’m gonna fill you up now, baby. C’mon, sweetheart, I’m gonna come, fuck.” Jack cursed, thrusting into you one last time, before coming inside the condom.

All you could hear were your sniffles and his breathing. Your legs were still shaking and your body felt the same way it did whenever you had a fever.

You could hear Jack moving, but you only acted when you felt himself removing his dick. “N-No. Please, stay. Just… for a bit?” You sounded fragile, almost insecure, and you hated it. It wasn’t anything like you, at all. You had guys and girls throwing themselves at you everyday— not that it mattered, you never took interest in any of them— so you shouldn’t act like a needy… slut.

But your fucked up brain couldn’t handle the thought of Jack leaving you. So, you did what you could. Begged.

You heard him chuckling and before your brain could tell you that he was laughing at your request, you felt him moving you both around and, without removing his cock from you, he managed to lay on the bed and let you on top of his, your head on the crock of his neck, your intimate parts still connected.

You sighed, content and full, feeling even better when he put the duvet on top of you both, making you snuggle even closer. He chuckled again.

“Feeling very cozy in there, right, sweetheart?” He mumbled, and you smiled, even if he couldn’t see. He smelled like sandalwood and something else, something that didn’t smell like a cologne or anything like that— just him.

You didn’t know how much time had passed, you probably snoozed after a minute or two, but you woke up startled, feeling empty because he had just removed himself from you. You whined.

“We need to clean you up, c’mon,” he said, rising from the bed and taking you with him. He didn’t seem to care that you were both naked and you looked like you had seen better days— your makeup was all smudged and your eyeliner was long gone. But you felt so freaking good. “I need you to pee. I’ll wait for you outside if you want.”

You looked at the man in front of you, who looked nothing like the cocky guy who hit on you not even three hours ago. He looked soft and gentle, and you were all here for it.

“That’d be great, thank you,” you said softly, and he kissed you on the forehead, before leaving and closing the door behind him. You looked at your reflection in the big ass mirror in front of you and sighed, smiling. You looked fucked but damn. You felt like you had just hit the jackpot.

And maybe you had.

You peed and cleaned yourself, trying to remove the remains of your makeup with wet paper. It didn’t do much, but it was better than going out there looking like Chucky’s bride.

You opened the bathroom door, feeling cold once again. Now that your body temperature was going back to normal, you felt cold walking around naked.

Jack was standing in the middle of the room, wearing a pair of gray sweatpants and nothing else.

It should be illegal for someone to look this good after rearranging my organs.

“I picked some of my clothes for you. You won’t be sleeping in my bed with Nico’s ugly jersey,” he raised his brow, looking truly upset with Nico’s shirt.

You smiled. “It’s fine. I’m not going to spend the night. That is against the rules of a one night stand.”

It felt stupid to say shit like that, but it was true. Now that the sex drive was going away, you regained some of your senses and confidence and you knew that being a clingy bitch wouldn’t get you anything.

“I mean, I can sleep in my guest room if sleeping with me makes you uncomfortable, but there’s no way in hell I’m letting you go back to your house alone at one in the fucking morning.”

“I know how to take care of myself, Hughes,” you heard yourself saying and you wanted to slap yourself. Where did the attitude even come from anyway? “Besides, I’ll just get an Uber.”

“The fuck you will,” he laughed— he actually laughed. You couldn’t believe it. “Lay down. With how hard I fucked you, you should be like Aurora from Sleeping Beauty anytime now.”

You suppress a giggle, giving in. So easy. “You’re annoying as fuck.”

“Funny, you didn't say that when I was eating your pussy.” He shrugged and climbed on the right side of his bed.

Your face went all shades of red.

“Come on, Sophia. Think about your poor consequences tomorrow.”

You rolled your eyes and climbed on his king sized bed. He wrapped his hands around your waist and you put your head in his chest, and listened to his heartbeat until you fell asleep.

He was right. You could manage the consequences tomorrow.

[lara4eclipze]

Hiiiii Can I please request Dani PDA when she is around the other girls! Like I know Dani would lowkey baby Yn since Yn is more masc. and although Yn would whine about out she loves it.

》 Y/N and Dani Being Clingy!

sypnosis 》 dani just can't get enough of babying you

beware 》 fluff , swearing , clingy!dani , masc!reader , PDA

talks 》 hi , i know ive been sooo inactive recently but fear no more cause im having my writing comeback!! hopefully a new fic every two days , caution !! this is a scene by scene thingy

taglist (open): @nyssalvr @ohmyhaely @vrtualstar @jellaaa @c-yerim @nakylvr @chuugetmesohigh

daniela was never the one to show public displays of affection, she wasn't that clingy, to her members or family — yet with you she changed, her hands were always stuck to yours and you both were practically glued to each other's hips

"calm down we're not gonna steal her" lara jokes as she notices how tightly dani grasped your forearm

you chuckle , looking down at your arm noticing how her nails were about to dig in to your skin

"no seriously she is not going anywhere" lara follows

♡

another example is when you attend their practices, after every dance daniela would run up to you and hug you

yes she was drenched in sweat but she smelt amazing , she looked amazing even

"was that good?" sophia asks you as you stop recording the practice — "perfect!" you replied earning you an adoring smile from your girlfriend

♡

you came home later than usual, late enough that you open the bedroom door to daniela asleep wearing your t-shirt, her eyes soon flutter open, and her features immediately turned into a relived one

"where have you been! , i was worried sick — next time tell me when you're getting home late" dani exclaims as she flailing her hands around

"i know I'm sorry" you frown at her , she runs up to you and hug you closely — her lips on yours , even though she was shorter she overpowered you her hands all over your back as if trying to not let you go or float away

"dont worry me like that again okay?" she pulls away and says her eyes turning into a window in to her soul , she looked vulnerable and worried

you nod just cherishing the warmth she brung into your life

"your such a baby" daniela then teases ruffling your short hair, her hands pulling you closer by the collar of your shirt

"am not!" you defend giggling along with her

"my handsome and pretty baby" she mutters

[glendasguidance-inactive]

🤍 pick an emoji, mini reading 🤍

Spirit Messages for You 💌

method: random posts selected from my spiritual pinterest board

₊˚ʚᗢ₊˚✧ﾟhow to pick // disclaimers ✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡♡˚

🕺🏽 🦬 🩰 🎠 🧿 🪬 🧬 🔭 🪆

Inhale, exhale 3x, pick

★ personal readings ★ support me ★ other readings ★

Pile 1 🕺🏽

I think the sublime confusion is from 19 to 29. You think you are late for everything, you’re a has-been, nothing is happening… there’s no opportunity for you, the world is closed, everything is a disaster, you wanna die. And then you’re 30. […] I’m much happier at 53 than I was at 23. - Guillermo del Toro

Pile 2 🦬

Imagine you are pulling negativity and pain away from your body.

Pile 3 🩰

Before a child talks, they sing. Before they write, they draw. As soon as they stand they dance. Art is fundamental to human expression. -Phylicia Rashad

Pile 4 🎠

What if cell by cell you gently and very gradually shift your thoughts of self-shame to a sparkling vibration of self-celebration and how would that feel in your heart, in your body? - Yumi Sakugawa

Pile 5 🧿

The time is now. (image of a clock and all the numbers are the word “now”)

Pile 6 🪬

I was no longer needing to be special, because I was no longer so caught in my own puny separateness that had to keep proving I was something. I was part of the universe, like a tree, or like grass is, or like water is. Like storms, like roses. I was just part of it all. - Ram Daas

Pile 7 🧬

If you are silent about your pain, they’ll kill you and say you enjoyed it. - Zora Neale Hurston

Pile 8 🔭

The first feminist gesture is to say: “OK, they’re looking at me. But I’m looking at them.” The act of deciding to look, of deciding that the world is not defined by how people see me, but how I see them. - Agnés Varda (images of Sophia Coppola holding a camera on the red carpet at the Venice Film Festival in 2003 and 2023)

Pile 9 🪆

This summer I will forgive myself. I’ll braid my own hair and lay in the sun. My past is farther behind me today than any other day. And tomorrow I’ll say the same. Time will leave me with peace. I am allowing my soul to be kind again this summer. I will forgive myself.

🦢 ♥︎ much love - Glenda ♥︎ 🦢

pngs: click here // dividers: click here // I do not consent to my writing, blog's likeness, or anything associated with my work, to be used to teach any machine learning software and artificial intelligence for any purpose.

[hellokittyfmxo]

"Thanks for telling me that. Unicorn Academy? That's really cool, actually. I don't know what's going on around here, but this is nice. I mean, the theme park is cool, and I've met some incredibly kind people here. I just wish that someone could tell me how I arrived to Canterlot Island, and of also why I am here. It doesn't seem like that there is anyone who actually knows, though." Tea Blossom said.

“Where am I right now? This is really confusing. Uh, do you know where I am right now? And my name is Tea Blossom. What is your name? I’m pleased to meet you.” Tea Blossom said to the other human person that she just saw nearby herself. @forgottenfriendshipstarters​

[only-lonely-star]

heyyy!! i broke my wrist last week so could you do some ponyboy x reader hc of you breaking your arm/wrist😭 currently i think the cast is kinda cool ngl but all my friends were so worried and concerned, and my ‘mom’ friend is worried when i try to do stuff with my cast/wrist (ex. hold a door open with it, balance my binders on if, etc) and i imagine that Ponyboy might be the same way tbh. maybe smth about his protectiveness, worry/concern, cutesy stuff like that, especially if the reader broke their dominant hand. also maybe make the reader like super nonchalant abt it and find the concern funny lol, yet still frustrated when they can’t do anything by themselves bc it was their dominant arm💀

sorry for the essay/broken wrist rant lol, tysm lovely😭💗🤞

Ponyboy Curtis x injured!reader HCs 🏥

Warnings: Contains of a reader with a broken wrist, and reader experiencing mild pain. Gender Neutral! (I apologize that this is a bit short, the only thing i’ve ever fractured was my nose in seventh grade lmao 😭)

Author’s Note: I’m so sorry about the injury, I hope you recover fast and heal properly 🙁🫶🏼. Sending much love!!! Thank you so much for your request! I agree 100% Pony would be constantly paranoid you’d hurt yourself even more and those protective instincts would flare up. AND YES BC HE WOULD BE THE BEST NURSE OMG- ANYWAYS, I HOPE YOU ALL ENJOY!!!!

┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ୨♡୧ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈ ┈

⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣⌣

If the injury happened while he was present, just know this boy was worrying himself GRAY. He would have a hard time deciding whether to call Darry, Soda, or having himself try and get you to the hospital. (Especially if he’s super tight with you, he would be scared and feel almost guilty.)

Once you’re all set and have your cast, Pony would be all helpful and abnormally sweet. No, seriously. He would try and rush to do everything before you could even try. The most simple things you could do even without your dominant hand would be his top priority. Things like picking up your own glass of water, opening doors, etc. I think it’s so cute for him to get sort of offended and feel rejected when you try and assure him you can do it yourself. “But I’m just trying to help… *slight frown*” AGDHFHJSJFV

HE WOULD TRY AND NOTIFY EVERYONE YOU’RE HURT ☹️☹️☹️

⬆️ I’m imagining a group setting where everyone is lounging in the Curtis household living room. You’re just chilling, chatting with the boys until one of them gets a bit too close to your injured wrist he tenses and abruptly goes “Be careful around their wrist-!” or, “Watch the cast-!” before sitting back down awkwardly. Keep in mind, the boy is just paranoid as hell - you’re not in any pain at the moment, and the boys were fully aware you’re injured. (He’s such a cutie good the fuck bye.)

Doodling on your cast and signing it like a celebrity as soon as it was made is such a Ponyboy thing to do. He’d try and write it where you could always see it and not have to bend or move your arm around so much.

He would DEFINITELY carry your books, backpack, lunchbox, etc. at school and haul around twice of what he normally carries just for your sake. Again, he would have to insist and try to sway you into letting him.

He’s always nagging at you to keep your arm propped up because he’s convinced it does SOMETHING and maybe takes the pressure off of your injury.

(This is more of a cute scenario lol) Anytime you dramatize pain, Ponyboy winces and makes that little ‘sss’ sound while you’re trying to hard to hold back your laughter.

He put off all roughhousing until you get that cast off and stayed committed to it.

You catch him giving you side glances here and there, but he’s only trying to make sure you’re not in a weird position or putting pressure on your arm.

THANK YOU FOR READING!! ❤️‍🩹

- Sophia 🫶🏼

[silverlakee]

✧

• 19

• she/her

• i will make content for straykids, ateez, txt, katseye, twice, itzy, and others. just ask!

• asks are open :)

• i don’t write (yet) so pls request anything you’d like

• masterlist under the cut !

MASTERLIST BELOW ✧

✧-suggestive ★-fluff ♱-angst

stray kids ♡ .*•

ot8: bf! skz send you a picture of themselves ✧ | calling bf!skz husband/hubby for the first time ✧★ | bf!skz comforting you from school stress ★

bang chan: texts with bf!chan ✧★ | texts with bf!chan after a big fight ♱ | bang chan nsfw audio ✧ | bf!chan headcannons ✧★| texts with bf!chan ✧★ | texts with situationship!chan ✧

lee know: bf!lee know headcannons ✧★ |

changbin: nothing yet!

hyunjin: texts with bf!hyunjin after a big fight ♱ | bf!hyunjin headcannons✧★

han jisung: han jisung nsfw audio ✧ | sub!han jisung nsfw audio ✧

felix: texts with bf!felix after an argument ♱

seungmin: nothing yet!

jeongin: nothing yet!

✧-suggestive ★-fluff ♱-angst

ateez ♡ .*•

ot8: nothing yet!

hongjoong: nothing yet!

seonghwa: nothing yet!

yunho: nothing yet!

yeosang: nothing yet!

san: nothing yet!

mingi: nothing yet!

wooyoung: nothing yet!

jongho: nothing yet!

✧-suggestive ★-fluff ♱-angst

txt ♡ .*•

ot5: nothing yet!

yeonjun: nothing yet!

soobin: nothing yet!

beomgyu: nothing yet!

taehyun: nothing yet!

huening kai: nothing yet!

✧-suggestive ★-fluff ♱-angst

katseye ♡ .*•

ot6: nothing yet!

manon: gf!manon headcannons ✧★

sophia: nothing yet!

daniela: nothing yet!

megan: gf!megan headcannons ✧★

lara: gf!lara headcannons ✧★ | gf!lara headcannons pt.2 ✧★ | texts with gf!lara✧★

yoonchae: nothing yet!

✧-suggestive ★-fluff ♱-angst

twice ♡ .*•

ot9: nothing yet!

nayeon: nothing yet!

jeongyeon: nothing yet!

momo: nothing yet!

sana: nothing yet!

jihyo: nothing yet!

mina: nothing yet!

dahyun: nothing yet!

chaeyoung: nothing yet!

tzuyu: nothing yet!

✧-suggestive ★-fluff ♱-angst

itzy ♡ .*•

ot5: nothing yet!

yeji: nothing yet!

lia: nothing yet!

ryujin: gf!ryujin headcannons ✧★

chaeryeong: nothing yet!

yuna: nothing yet!

[hot-and-confused]

shotgun - d.winchester

⋆˙⟡♡ word count : ~9.5k

───────────☆───────────

three

september, 1998

“loosen up,” dean murmurs, his voice close, breath warm against her ear. his hands — big, calloused, steady — wrap around her wrists, adjusting her grip on the shotgun. “you hold it too stiff, and the kickback’s gonna fuck you up.”

mallory exhales sharply, but she listens, relaxing just a little. she doesn’t miss the way his fingers linger, the slow drag of his touch as he guides her hands into position. “you always this handsy, or am i just special?” she quips, her smirk sharp, but there’s heat beneath it — because it’s dean, and it’s always been like this between them.

he chuckles, low and easy, but doesn’t pull away. “you’re special, sweetheart,” he says, voice laced with something that makes her stomach flip. “but i’m also making sure you don’t break your damn collarbone.”

she rolls her eyes but doesn’t argue. instead, she shifts her stance, pressing back against him slightly — just enough to feel the solid warmth of him at her back. just enough to remind him she knows exactly what she’s doing. his hands tighten on her waist, a fleeting squeeze, like he’s caught between amusement and something else.

“feet apart,” he murmurs, nudging her shoe with his own. she follows his lead, but angles her head just enough to glance at him over her shoulder. “gonna buy me dinner after all this, or what?” she hums.

dean grins, slow and lazy, lifting his hand from her waist to gently grip her chin and tilt it back to the target. his fingers brush the underside of her jaw, the touch light but deliberate, and she swears she feels his thumb skim the hollow of her throat before he drops his hand back to her waist. “watch where you’re pointing’ that thing, darlin’. and i’ll buy you dinner if that’s what you want.” he hummed in her ear.

she hums, lowering the shotgun just a little, testing him. she hasn’t been here long, but it’s been long enough for her to realize how much she likes it when he corrects her.

his hand is back on her waist in an instant, firm and insistent as he tugs her back into position. “c’mon now,” he chides, voice a little rougher, a little deeper, like he knows exactly what game she’s playing. “you want me to teach you or not?”

mallory smirks, biting back a laugh, because oh, this is fun. “oh, i’m learning,” she murmurs, letting him settle her back against him, his body heat soaking into her spine. she readjusts her grip on the shotgun, flexing her fingers just to see if he’ll touch her again. sure enough, his hands are there, correcting, adjusting, lingering.

his lips brush close to her ear again, barely there but enough to make her shiver. “pull the trigger when you’re ready,” he says, voice low, like he’s testing her now.

she exhales slow, fingers tightening, and finally fires. the shotgun kicks, but she barely feels it, too focused on the way dean’s hand slides up her waist, the way he steadies her without thinking, the way he’s already leaning in again.

she tilts her head slightly, letting her cheek nearly brush his shoulder. “did i do good, winchester?” she purrs.

he huffs a laugh, the sound rumbling against her back. she can feel his other hand creeping up her waist almost absentmindedly, fingertips just grazing the sliver of bare skin where her shirt’s ridden up. his fingers squeeze at her hip, a touch too deliberate to be casual. “you’re gettin’ there, sweetheart,” he murmurs, and she can hear the smirk in his voice.

“so, what’s next? grenade launcher?” she snickers, tilting her head.

dean snickers, shaking his head. “yeah, sure. let’s give the newbie a grenade launcher. real smart.”

mallory grins, tilting her head back just enough to catch his expression. “c’mon, you said i was gettin’ there.” she bats her lashes, all mock innocence, but there’s a glint in her eyes, something playful and sharp.

dean raises an eyebrow, his gaze flickering over her face. there’s something in his eyes that’s almost a challenge, almost a dare. dean doesn’t take the bait — not exactly. but his hand, still warm at her waist, tightens just a fraction before he lets go. “you are,” he concedes, stepping around her to grab more shells. “but let’s not get ahead of ourselves, hot shot.”

she hums, watching him load the shotgun with practiced ease, the flex of his forearms, the roll of his shoulders. “so, what’s the real reason you won’t let me play with the fun toys?” she teases, leaning her hip against the table. “afraid i’ll outshine you?”

dean snorts, handing her the reloaded shotgun. “nah, sweetheart. i know you’d outshine me,” he says, a little too smooth, a little too easy, and it should be cocky, but there’s something disarmingly genuine about it. “that’s the problem.”

mallory blinks, thrown for just half a second, but she recovers fast, smirking as she steps back into position. “flatter me all you want, winchester,” she murmurs, raising the shotgun again. “still not gonna stop me from asking for the grenade launcher.”

“almost forgot, gotta teach ya how to pack salt rounds,” he hums, readjusting her stance again.

mallory exhales sharply, more out of amusement than frustration, but she lets him guide her — because even though she’s a quick learner, she kind of likes how much he enjoys correcting her.

“yeah? gonna hold my hands again? whisper sweet nothings in my ear while we do it?” she quips, glancing at him from the corner of her eye.

dean grins, slow and smug, his hands firm on her waist as he nudges her back into position. “depends,” he murmurs, voice dipping just enough to send a shiver down her spine. “you want me to?”

her smirk falters — just barely — but she recovers fast, tilting her head to look at him fully now. “you really are a loverboy,” she drawls, teasing, but there’s something undeniably pleased about it.

dean scoffs, but the corner of his mouth twitches like he’s fighting a smile. “yeah, yeah,” he mutters, finally stepping back, much to her disappointment.

it’s hot in kansas, she’s dressed in little denim shorts and a tiny, cropped, black spaghetti strap, lined with cream lace and giving dean an unobstructed view down her shirt. it’s kind of hilarious to see her handling a shotgun in that outfit, complete with black and white high top vans. classic mallory, easy on the eyes, hard on the ego.

his gaze, as always, is hungry. it’s subtle though, the way his eyes track down her body in the summer heat, from the soft swell of her chest to the plushness of her thighs. the shorts, the top — all perfectly chosen to torture him, and he knows it. dean’s seen her in less, but there’s something about this, and this goddamn shotgun, that sets something off in him.

she’s only been at bobby’s for a few months, but they’ve been toeing this line for that entire time, stuck in a no man’s land somewhere between friends and lovers.

a land of stolen glances, heated looks, and a hell of a lot of tension. she knows how he looks at her, he knows how she looks back. it’s obvious in how his gaze flicks over her body or how he’s suddenly finding any excuse to touch her.

it's undeniably intimate, even though they'd both argue it's just some harmless flirting — except it's never just harmless, their words are sharper, their glances linger a beat too long, the physical contact is charged, like they're both daring the other to cross an unspoken line. it's an intoxicating dance, a game that neither is quite sure how to win.

sure, they've almost kissed a dozen times, but the line hasn't been crossed, not quite yet. there's been so many opportunities to cross it — stolen moments in the shadows, late night talks with hushed voices, the tension that's always simmering beneath the surface, just begging for someone to ignite it.

like now — they've both had a little too much to drink, some kind of whiskey that burns going down but the warmth that blooms in her chest and the chirping of crickets makes it more bearable. it’s humid, not so bad that it makes her skin sticky — but just the right amount.

but the alcohol isn't what leaves her throat dry, it's the way he's looking at her, something in his gaze that isn't just whiskey-warm, it's something molten and hot and intense. she can feel her cheeks flush, but it's the kind of flush that has nothing to do with the bourbon they're drinking from the bottle.

they're sitting on the hood of the impala, their thighs touching just enough to be comfortable. dean doesn't even remember how they ended up like this, his body pressed so close to hers, their thighs touching, the heat of her skin like a brand against his. he'd be lying if he said he didn't like it - the closeness, the way she's leaning into him, almost subconsciously.

she sighs softly, laying back against the windshield, her hands clasped on her stomach, staring at the stars.

while she’s gazing at the stars, his gaze roams over her, tracing the curve of her hip, the plushness of her thighs, the smooth skin of her stomach where her shirt has ridden up. she's the very picture of casual grace, laid on the hood of his car, and he's suddenly very aware of how close they are, how easy it would be to reach out and touch her.

"what?" she asks, feeling his gaze, her voice softer than usual.

he blinks, like she startled him, like he'd been caught staring, but he doesn't look away. "just lookin'," he says, his voice a low rumble. he's never been the type to give flowery compliments — he's better with action, but there's something about this moment that has him feeling uncharacteristically vulnerable.

she crinkles her nose, tilting her head a little. he grins, and for a moment the intensity of his gaze softens, a hint of affection seeping in like he can't help it. "what? i'm not allowed to look at you now?"

"never said that. you've just got a staring problem."

"i've got a lot of problems," he agrees, his gaze drifting over her again, like he can't help himself. "staring at pretty girls just happens to be one of the less hazardous ones."

she chuckles softly, her full lips pulling down into an amused smirk.

he shifts, angling himself towards her just a little more. he's all rough edges, but there's a softness to him in this moment, something that's rarely on display for anyone. "can't help it," he murmurs, shrugging one shoulder. "especially when they're all laid out on my car like that. practically begging to be looked at."

"you're awfully bold." she snickers, but there's no real complaint there, merely an observation.

his eyes rake over her body, taking in the curve of her hip, the dip of her waist, the way her shirt has ridden up just enough to reveal a sliver of skin. "bold, huh?" he repeats, a hint of a challenge in his voice. "you don't seem too bothered by it."

"m'not." she shrugged.

he smirks, reaching out to lightly pinch the skin of her hip, snickering as swats his hand away. "that so?" he asks, the gesture both playful and teasing. "you're not even gonna tell me to stop? tell me i'm annoying?"

"do you want me to?" she hums, glancing up at him through her lashes.

he pauses, his gaze narrowing as he takes her in, all smooth lines and soft curves. "want you to call me annoying?" he muses, his thumb skimming the bare skin of her hip. "or tell me to stop?"

"either one."

he's silent for a beat, his thumb still tracing patterns into her skin as he considers. "i don't mind you callin' me annoying," he finally says, accompanied by a half-shrug and a smirk. "but i definitely don't want you to tell me to stop looking at you."

"well, you are annoying. but i wasn't gonna tell you to stop." she murmurs, her voice a low hum.

he hums, a sound that’s somehow both amused and dark, his gaze still fixed on her as his fingers press into her hip, just slightly, a little gesture that feels like a claim, subtle but not quite innocent. “yeah? don’t mind me lookin’ at you, huh?”

“you said it yourself, i like the attention.” she snorts, her tongue poking the inside of her cheek.

he laughs then, a low rumble that has no right to sound so attractive, his fingers flexing on her hip without even thinking about it. “you’re a little attention whore, aren’t you?” he says, teasing and playful, but there’s a heat in his gaze that betrays the casualness of his tone.

“rude.” she huffs amusedly, the back of her hand smacking his bicep.

he chuckles, catching her hand on his arm before she can pull away, gripping her fingers in his. “hey, i’m just callin’ it like i see it.” he smirks, his thumb skimming over her knuckles. “but it’s okay, i don’t mind entertaining your need for attention, sweetheart.”

“you’re worse.” she retorts, deflecting.

“what can i say?” he murmurs, his gaze flicking over her body again, like he can’t help himself. “i like lookin’ at you, and i like knowin’ you’re lookin’ back.”

“who says i’m looking at you?” she teases, gazing up at him through thick lashes.

his lips curve into a smirk, his expression cocky and confident as his fingers slide up her waist. “you’re lookin’ pretty hard, sweetheart.” he murmurs, the endearment rolling off his tongue in a way that feels almost deliberate.

“we should get your eyes checked,” she teases.

he laughs, a low, amused sound, his gaze flickering to hers. “my eyes are just fine, sweetheart,” he murmurs, his fingers still tracing along her waist. “and they’re tellin’ me that you’ve been lookin’ just as much as i have.”

“maybe it’s your ego that needs to be checked, then.” she quips, still looking at him with an expression that borders on bedroom eyes.

he chuckles, his hand sliding further up her waist, his fingertips skimming the underside of her breast. “my ego’s doin’ just fine, doll,” he says, his voice a rough rumble. “especially when i know how much you like lookin’ at me.”

“i don’t know what you’re talking about,” she hummed in mock defiance, crossing her arms.

“oh, really?” he murmurs, his gaze locked on hers, a spark of challenge in his eyes. he shifts, moving closer, his thigh pressing against her hip as his hand continues to skim over her skin. “you don’t like lookin’ at me, huh? not even a little bit?”

she shrugs, her lazy smirk barely contained. “you’re okay, i guess.”

he hums, the sound skeptical but not quite unbelieving. his hand slides up her hip, his fingers ghosting over her stomach through the fabric of her shirt. “just okay, huh?” he murmurs, still teasing, but now the touch is just a little more firm, the heat of his skin like a brand against hers.

“yeah. your ego doesn’t need anymore stroking.”

he snorts, a laugh spilling from his lips, but his hand keeps moving, his touch becoming increasingly possessive, his fingers digging into her hip. “my ego’s doin’ just fine,” he repeats, his gaze roaming over her face, her neck, her chest. “but i can think of other things that need just a little more attention.”

“dean winchester. you whore.” she giggles, pushing outstretched fingers to his chest.

he laughs, the sound low and rough, his gaze heated as he looks down at her. “you’re one to talk,” he teases, his hand sliding up to grip her wrist, his thumb brushing over her pulse point. “you’re the one who keeps walkin’ around in tiny lil outfits you know drive me crazy.”

“it’s hot!” she protests, her lips twitching in a drunken attempt to keep her grin at bay.

“i know, that’s the problem.” he chuckles, running his thumb over her palm.

“outside.” she clarifies with a chiding glare. “it’s ninety degrees,”

he snorts, shaking his head. “yeah, that’s really your only reason for wearin’ those shorts, huh?” he murmurs, his fingers skimming over the bare expanse of her thigh.

“what are you insinuating?” she hums playfully, a lazy, amused tilt to her lips.

“oh, you know. just wondering why you find it necessary to walk around dressed like a goddamn pinup girl.” he drawls, his hand sliding up, his fingers tracing the edge of her shorts, just barely slipping underneath.

“you wish.”

“damn right i do.” he chuckles, and there’s no hint of teasing now, just the raw sincerity of a man who can’t keep his hands to himself. he pushes her legs apart with his knee, his hand sliding over her hip. his palms span over her waist like he needs to touch her, like it’s a physical necessity. “so i’m askin’ again, sweetheart. you like me lookin’ at you?”

“i guess,” she hums, softer this time, doing nothing to stop him.

his hands flex at her waist, the rough callouses of his fingers a contrast to the softness of her stomach, then he leans forward, his gaze fixated on her face. he’s close enough now that she could count his freckles if she wanted to, his body pressing tight against hers. “you guess?” he asks, his voice a low rumble, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lip. “you don’t sound very sure of yourself.”

“i don’t think you’re seeing what i’m letting you do,” she snickers.

he smirks, his gaze darkening as his hand slides up her side, skimming over her ribcage. “you’re lettin’ me touch you, huh?” he murmurs, tilting his head slightly as if to better look at her — or maybe it’s just to get a better view of her neck. “that what i’m doin’?” his fingers brush over a sensitive spot on her side, and she’s not sure if he did it on purpose.

“you tell me.”

he chuckles, his thumb grazing the underside of her bra, a slow, teasing touch. “looks like i’m touchin’ you, sweetheart,” he says, his voice rough around the edges. “is that what you’re lettin’ me do?”

she nods, not breaking eye contact.

he smiles, a predatory gleam in his eye, like he’s won something, and maybe he has. he leans in close, his mouth close to her throat. “then why am i the only one touchin’?” he hums, letting his hand slide to her hip, his fingers teasing under the edge of her shorts again.

she swallows, sitting up so he’s leaning against the windshield. her delicate hands find his forearms, lithe fingers wrapping around them and sliding up as she climbs onto his lap.

he lets her move him, lets her climb into his lap without hesitation, his gaze fixed on hers, hungry and dark. his hands find their way to her hips, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of her thighs, holding her there, like he’s been waiting for this. “there we go,” he murmurs, his voice low and rough.

"this okay?" she mumbles.

he hums, leaning back slightly, his grip on her thighs tightening, his fingers skimming over her skin. "more than okay," he says, his voice low and dark, his gaze tracing over the line of her throat as he tilts her head back. "better than okay."

her breath catches in her throat, feeling his hand tilt her head back.

he smirks, his gaze taking her in, every inch of bare skin exposed and vulnerable. "you like this, sweetheart?" he murmurs, his fingers tracing over the sensitive skin of her neck, his touch like a brand.

she hums an affirmative, just barely audible. her eyes are big, green, and sparkly under the moonlight, looking up at him with an expression that could best be described as vulnerable.

his gaze softens just a bit, but there's still that hint of dark hunger that hasn't quite subsided. he leans in, his breath warm on her neck, his lips skimming over her skin with a feather-light touch. "you're real pretty like this," he murmurs, the compliment almost catching him off guard.

she almost whines as his lips graze her neck, her skin soft and sensitive. normally, he doesn’t fluster her, but the alcohol is ruining her.

the air between them crackles, something old and new all at once. they’ve been playing at this — testing, teasing, toeing the line — but now, with the whiskey warm in their veins and the quiet stretch of night wrapped around them, it feels different. heavier. inevitable.

mallory shifts just slightly, like she’s testing the weight of the moment, seeing how far it’ll tip before it tumbles over completely. dean watches her, watches the way the corner of her mouth twitches like she’s fighting a smirk, watches the rise and fall of her chest, the way her fingers idly trace the edge of his shirt like she’s daring him to comment.

and he does.

of course he does.

“y’know,” he drawls, his voice rough around the edges, “keep lookin’ at me like that, and i’m gonna start thinkin’ you want me to kiss you.”

she exhales a laugh, soft and slow, like she’s been waiting for him to say it. she tilts her head, her gaze flicking over his face, landing on his mouth before meeting his eyes again. “maybe i do,” she murmurs, and it’s not a tease, not a challenge — just a simple, undeniable truth.

something shifts in him then. like all the teasing, all the waiting, all the drawn-out moments that have been leading up to this suddenly snap into place. his hand tightens at her hip, the pressure grounding, steady. “you sure?” he asks, quiet but firm, because he needs her to be.

mallory hums, dragging her fingers down the front of his shirt, slow and deliberate, her touch like a match striking against him. “you really gonna make me beg?” she asks, her voice nothing more than a breath between them.

dean huffs a quiet laugh, but there’s no more hesitation. no more waiting.

his hand slides up, fingers brushing against her jaw, tilting her chin just enough before he finally — finally — closes the space between them.

it’s slow at first, like they’re both taking a second to realize that this is actually happening. that they’re not just toeing the line anymore, they’ve finally crossed it. and then mallory makes this soft little noise against his lips, and dean’s restraint unravels.

his other hand finds her waist, pulling her in like he’s afraid she’ll change her mind, like he needs to feel every inch of her against him. and she lets him — no, she encourages it, her fingers curling into his shirt, tugging him closer, deepening the kiss until there’s no space left between them.

she tastes like whiskey and cherry candy and summer, paired with something else, something distinctly mallory, something that makes him dizzy in a way no amount of booze ever could.

when they finally break apart, dean doesn’t move far, just enough to rest his forehead against hers, his breath uneven, his grip still firm like he’s not quite ready to let go.

mallory’s lips curve into a slow, satisfied smirk. “took you long enough,” she murmurs.

dean exhales a laugh, shaking his head. “yeah, yeah,” he mutters, but there’s no real complaint in his tone. just something warm, something easy, something that feels a whole lot like finally.

his gaze dips down, taking her in, her lips still spit-slick, her cheeks flushed, her eyes like pools of liquid emerald. she’s downright radiant, and it’s no wonder he can’t tear his eyes away, wanting nothing more than to bask in her glow.

his hands flex at her waist again, like he’s making sure she’s real, that he’s not just making this up in his whiskey-fueled imagination. “you’re beautiful,” he murmurs, his gaze slowly roaming over her face, taking in every detail, every freckle, every fleck of gold in her eyes.

her lips twitch, the barest hint of a smirk playing at the edges, but there’s something softer underneath it, something warm. she tilts her head, studying him like she’s trying to commit this moment to memory just as much as he is. “you’re drunk,” she teases, her voice hushed, like she doesn’t want to shatter whatever fragile thing is hanging between them.

his fingers tighten at her waist, grounding himself. “maybe,” he admits, his voice rough, lazy. “but that doesn’t make it any less true.”

she exhales, a quiet little thing, and for a moment, all she does is look at him — really look at him. then, slow and deliberate, she leans in, brushing her nose against his, her lips barely ghosting over his. “good,” she whispers, “i’d hate for you to regret it in the morning.”

his breath catches. he wouldn’t. not in a million years.

he laughs, the sound soft and rough, his gaze locked on hers. “you think i’d regret kissin’ you?” he asks, his voice almost a tease, but there’s something tender underneath it, something that feels so much bigger than either of them.

she hums, her fingers tracing mindless patterns into his chest. “can never be too sure with you, can i?” she murmurs, a lazy smirk toying at the corner of her mouth.

his fingers press just a little firmer into her waist, like he’s trying to steady himself, like he’s trying to keep her right here, close enough to feel the warmth of her, the shape of her against him. his head tilts, that smirk of hers making something molten curl low in his stomach. “sweetheart,” he drawls, voice thick with whiskey and something softer, something dangerously close to reverence, “i’ve done a lotta stupid things in my life, but kissin’ you?” his thumb sweeps slow over the curve of her hip, deliberate, certain. “that’s gotta be the smartest thing i’ve ever done.”

her smirk lingers, but there’s something else there now, something deeper in the way she looks at him. like maybe she believes him. like maybe she wants to. her fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt, nails just barely dragging against his chest as she leans in again, slower this time, testing, teasing. “guess you better put your money where your mouth is, then,” she murmurs, voice like silk, like smoke, right against his lips.

he doesn’t need to be told twice.

bright lightning flashes across the dark sky, the crack of thunder only intensifying the moment.

his hand finds the side of her face, his touch like a brand on her skin, holding her in place as he closes the space between them, kissing her slow, so slow, his lips a feather-light pressure against hers, like he’s afraid she’ll disappear if he’s not careful enough, if he kisses her too hard, too deep.

she hums, her fingers flexing in his shirt, her body moving to mold against his like it’s second nature to her, like she was made to fit into him.

the rain hasn’t started yet, but the air is thick with it, heavy and electric, crackling around them like a live wire. he can feel it in the way she moves against him, in the way her lips part just enough for him to deepen the kiss, slow and deliberate, like he’s memorizing the shape of her, the taste of her. his fingers slide back into her hair, his thumb brushing just beneath her ear, and he swears he can feel her pulse there, quick and unsteady.

she exhales against his mouth, a sound so quiet, so content, that it nearly undoes him. his other hand finds her waist, his grip just shy of desperate, like he needs her closer, like he doesn’t trust the storm not to steal her away. another rumble of thunder rolls through the sky, closer this time, rattling in his chest, but he doesn’t pull away. he just tilts his head, drinks her in like she’s the only thing keeping him tethered.

“storm’s rolling in,” she murmurs against his lips, her voice low, teasing, but there’s something softer underneath it, something knowing.

he huffs a quiet laugh, but he doesn’t open his eyes, doesn’t move away. “yeah,” he mutters, his fingers flexing at her waist. “think it’s already here.”

“backseat?” she hums against his lips, smirking against the pink fullness of them.

his lips twitch into a smirk, his breath warm against hers. “thought you’d never ask,” he murmurs, his voice rough, almost reverent.

his hands are already on her waist, already guiding her back, but he doesn’t rush, doesn’t pull away just yet. he kisses her once more, slower this time, savoring it, like he knows this moment is going to brand itself into his memory, like he’s already addicted to the way she tastes.

the storm rumbles overhead as he finally breaks away, his forehead pressing to hers for just a second, his breath uneven, his grip firm. then, without another word, he tugs her off the hood, the rain just starting to mist against their skin.

the rain is picking up by the time they reach the door, a light, cool mist against their skin, but neither one of them seems to notice, too caught up in the moment, in the feel of each other’s bodies, too focused on getting to the backseat of the impala.

the rain gets heavier, turning into sheets of silver in the light of the full moon, but they’re sheltered in the impala, shielded from the storm by the darkness and the glass windows. the rain sounds muffled now, like they’re in their own little pocket of space and time.

the world outside fades away, too caught up in the storm of each other to care about anything else.

dean’s hands are steady on her waist, tugging her toward him as he leans in again, his lips brushing over hers, slow and searching. the air in the car is thick with the kind of tension only the silence of the rain can create. their bodies fit together like they’ve always known how, like they’ve always belonged in this moment.

she hums, her fingers threading through his hair, pulling him closer, tasting him deeper. there’s no more teasing now, no more games — just the pull of desire, the rush of the storm both outside and between them. his hands roam, tracing the line of her spine, the curve of her neck, and she shivers, not from the cold, but from the way he makes her feel so damn alive.

the rain patters against the tin roof of the car, blanketing the space in a soothing atmosphere.

he breaks away just a moment to catch his breath, his gaze roaming over her face, like he’s trying to commit her expression to memory, like he wants to capture this moment and keep it forever. her hair is starting to curl from the rain and her cheeks are flushed, a light dusting of pink painted across her cheeks.

she’s looking up at him like he hung the entire goddamn solar system, and if she wasn’t drunk, maybe she’d be embarrassed.

he’s not much better, his own vision hazy, his gaze focused on her face, his eyes tracing every contour in her expression, every flutter of her lashes, her pink lips, her flushed cheeks. his thumb brushes the skin of her neck, just beneath her jaw, and his thumb lingers there, feeling her pulse. it’s a soft, steady rhythm under her skin, and it puts him at ease. “god, you’re beautiful,” he murmurs, his voice so soft, so unlike him.

she swallows, her throat tight. it’s not like she’s a stranger to compliments — far from it. but the reverence with which he hums it has her feeling unbearably vulnerable.

he watches her as she swallows and he tightens his grip on her hip, an instinctive reaction, like he needs her closer, like he needs her right here, under his touch. there’s a sort of protectiveness to it, a possessiveness that would send her running any other time. but the alcohol and the storm and the dark of night has her feeling pliant, soft, open, like he could take her apart piece by piece and she’d let him.

it’s a strange feeling, the implicit trust.

he leans in, lips skimming over the line of her jaw, his body heat seeping into the skin there. “tell me to stop,” he murmurs against her throat. it’s almost like a challenge, but his voice betrays him — the words are almost pleading.

mallory shakes her head, slowly but steadily.

he exhales slowly, a quiet, ragged exhale, like he was holding his breath this whole time, and her answer just made it all come spilling out. his hand tightens at her hip, his lips brushing over her skin, soft and reverent like he’s still not sure she’s real. “you sure?” he murmurs, voice low and rough, like he has to ask just one more time, like he can’t trust himself not to take this too far, too fast.

“uh huh,” she breathes, nodding a little in earnest.

the words hang between them, fragile and weighty at once, as he pulls her in closer, his body pressing against hers in the tight, confined space of the backseat.

dean’s hand moves to her cheek, his thumb brushing over her lips, almost reverently, as if she might slip through his fingers if he doesn’t hold on tight enough. his gaze is dark, intense, but there’s something there, something soft, as though he’s trying to memorize the feeling of this moment — the way she fits into his arms, the way she looks at him like she doesn’t expect anything, like she just wants him, with all her heart, without hesitation.

he leans in, kissing her again, slow, so slow, his lips moving with an aching tenderness, like he’s savoring every inch of her, every touch, every soft exhale. it’s not hurried, not frantic, but a steady, rhythmic pull that makes the air around them thick with tension.

her fingers curl into his shirt, pulling him closer, meeting him halfway with a hunger he knows all too well. her breath catches as his lips move from her mouth to her jaw, his hands sliding down her back, pressing her even closer, feeling the way her body melts into his, how every inch of her feels like it was made for him.

dean leans forward, gently easing her back. but just then, she whines a little against his lips, having bumped her head on the door handle.

he pulls back immediately, eyes softening in concern as he looks at her, his thumb brushing over her cheek. “y’okay?” he asks, his voice low, laced with a mix of worry and amusement.

mallory lets out a soft laugh, rubbing the back of her head. “yeah, just… bad timing,” she mutters, a teasing smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth, despite the little wince still on her face.

dean grins, a playful glint in his eyes, but there’s still that protective edge beneath it, his hand lingering on her cheek as he carefully adjusts her position. “don’t want you knockin’ yourself out before we get to the good part,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing her skin in the most distracting way, as if trying to comfort her, while also making her heart race all over again.

“you think you’re the good part?” she quips, her voice a little breathless, but there’s that playful defiance in her tone. her eyes flick up to meet his, the challenge in them clear.

he chuckles, shaking his head. “oh, i’m definitely the good part,” he teases, leaning in to kiss her again, this time softer, slower, the playful tension still lingering. “but you’re a close second.”

“a close second?” she gasps softly, feigning indignation, but the softness of her gaze betrays her.

he nods, the smirk returning to his lips, his gaze flicking over her face, taking in every slight movement of her features. “yeah, a close second,” he murmurs, his hand moving to her hip, his fingers slipping beneath the fabric of her shirt, his touch soft and deliberate. “i’ve got high standards.”

she knows he’s joking, but in her drunken state, it stings just the tiniest bit.

he senses the shift in her mood, even if it’s subtle, his expression sobering, his head tilting just a little, like he’s trying to get a better look at her. “hey,” he murmurs, his fingers pressing into the skin of her hip. “i was just playin’.”

she nods a little, knowing he didn’t really mean it.

he sighs, his hand moving from her hip to her cheek, his touch gentle, tender, as if he’s hoping to soothe her, despite the drunkenness, despite the lingering tension. “you know i don’t think that, right?” he murmurs, his fingers trailing over her neck, finding her pulse point.

“yeah, m’sorry,” she mumbles, biting the inside of her cheek.

he shakes his head, a soft, amused laugh escaping him as his fingers skim over her jaw. “don’t apologize,” he mutters, his thumb brushing over her bottom lip, just the softest, faintest touch. “i just like givin’ you crap.”

she nods, exhaling slowly to calm her nerves.

he watches her, his gaze drifting over her face, taking in the way her chest rises and falls, the soft flutter of her eyelashes, the flush in her cheeks. his hand is still on her neck, the pads of his fingers just barely skimming over her pulse point, feeling the way her heart beats a little fast. “your pulse is a little fast, sweetheart,” he murmurs, his voice low, a hint of teasing in it.

she huffs a soft chuckle, her eyelashes fluttering slightly as she looks up at him.

his gaze drifts to her lips, watching the way they curve into that soft smirk, the way her cheeks flush a pretty shade of pink. his thumb brushes her bottom lip softly, the touch of his fingers feather-light, but somehow still intense, like he can’t help himself, like he’s not used to being this gentle. “i think that’s just cause you’re nervous,” he mutters, his voice rough, like he’s barely keeping himself in check.

her lips twitch a little, and she doesn’t argue, doesn’t fire back some witty retort.

he notices, the smirk growing a little wider. her lack of verbal sparring isn’t lost on him, and if he were sober, he’d be taking pleasure in it. but the alcohol seems to have heightened something, heightened his need to be closer, to touch a little more. “you’re awfully quiet,” he murmurs, his fingers tracing the line of her jaw, his thumb skimming over her lip. “it’s not your first time, is it?” he asks gently, his smirk no longer present.

she shakes her head, biting the inside of her cheek. “only once, though.”

his gaze flicks to her mouth, his fingers still tracing her jawline. his eyebrows arch just the slightest, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lip. “once, huh?” he muses, the hint of a question in his tone. “did you like it?”

she winces a little, her brows furrowing. “not particularly,”

his expression softens, his fingers stilling on her skin. “then why do it?” he asks, his voice a hint quieter now, a thread of something like concern lacing each syllable.

she shrugs, her lips pulling into a hint of a frown. “felt like i had to.”

his gaze is fixed on her face, taking in her expression, the way her mouth quirks into a frown. his hand finds her waist again, fingers flexing into the fabric of her shirt. “‘had to?’” he repeats, his voice tinged with something like disbelief. “you felt like you had to?”

she shook her head, “we don’t have to talk about it,”

his gaze softens, his hand resting on her hip, his fingers tracing slow circles into her skin. “hey,” he murmurs, his voice firm but soft. “look at me.”

she swallows but does it anyway, a vulnerability in her expression that he hasn’t seen before.

he studies her face, his eyes roaming over her features, taking in every detail. he’s always known her to be strong and confident, but right now, she’s soft and open, like she’s letting him see all the parts of her she usually keeps guarded. his thumb brushes her cheek, the touch gentle, tender. “tell me,” he murmurs, his voice low and coaxing.

“i don’t wanna ruin the moment,” she mumbles.

his hand moves to her chin, tilting her face up to look at him. “you aren’t ruinin’ it, this’s more important anyway.” he mutters, his gaze locked on hers, refusing to look away. his voice is so soft, so tender, it’s almost unrecognizable. “tell me, please.”

she swallows thickly, followed by a shaky exhale. “what do you wanna know?”

he looks at her for a moment, his gaze intense but his touch still gentle. he’s not usually one to pry, to get this personal, but right now, he can’t seem to help himself. “tell me why you felt like you had to,” he murmurs, his hand still on her hip, thumb brushing over the fabric of her shirt. “tell me why you didn’t like it.”

“he just.. pressured me. and people kept telling me he would leave me if i didn’t.”

his expression hardens, his grip on her hip tightening instinctively, a wave of protectiveness surging up unbidden. “he should’ve taken better care of you,” he mutters, a hint of anger in his tone, his eyes raking over her face, looking for any sign of discomfort, any sign that he’s pushing too hard. “not been a selfish asshole.”

“it doesn’t matter anymore,” she shook her head.

he sighs, his gaze still locked on hers, his touch still as soft as it is firm. “yeah, it does,” he murmurs, his voice a little softer than before, almost tender. “you deserve better than that, sweetheart.”

“why do you care so much?” she mumbled, staring up at him with big green doe eyes.

he looks at her for a moment, taking in her soft, vulnerable expression, the way those big, green eyes look up at him with something that looks an awful lot like trust. and then he exhales a slow breath, his fingertips still tracing circles into her skin, unable to let go. “because it pisses me off,” he mutters, his voice rough around the edges. “because you should’ve felt good, not like you had to do something you didn’t want to.”

“i kind of wanted to,” she mutters, even though she knows there’s no sense in defending the situation.

his eyebrows arches just a little, his gaze locked on her face. “really?” he mutters, his touch still soft, but his eyes are narrowed a little, like he's not quite sure he believes her. "you wanted to?"

“tangentially,” she winces.

he huffs a quiet laugh, his expression relaxing a fraction. "tangentially, huh?" he repeats, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "that's not very convincing, sweetheart."

“i didn’t want him to leave me, okay?” she huffs, a slight pout pulling on her lips.

he hums, his fingers still tracing her jawline, his gaze still fixed on her. there's something dangerous to his expression, something sharp and possessive. "he threatened to leave you if you didn't put out?" he asks, his voice rough, his eyes fixed on hers. "sounds like a real charmer."

“not outright, but i didn’t really care. my mom was in the hospital, and i.. thought that he loved me…” she stopped, shaking her head. “i’m sorry, i don’t know why i’m telling you this.”

“because i asked, sweetheart.” he soothed, running his thumb over her cheek.

she lets out a resigned sigh, nodding slowly.

he takes the cue to continue, his gaze softening just a little, just enough to notice. “was he much older than you?” he asks, his hand moving to her face, fingertips skimming over the skin of her cheek, his touch still so tender, it’s like he’s trying not to break her.

“no, only a few months.”

he nods a little, his gaze still fixed on her face. "so why didn't you tell him no?" he asks, his voice rough, but not in the way she's come to know as anger. it's soft, tender, but there's a desperate undercurrent to it, like he needs to know.

“i don’t know. it’s not that i didn’t want to… i just, wasn’t quite ready, i guess. well, i thought i was, but then it was too late to back out.”

he hums, his brow furrowing a little as he processes her words, his thumb tracing over her skin, just soft, soothing circles. "you felt like you couldn't tap out, huh?" he asks, his voice quiet, almost low enough to be lost in the sound of the rain.

she hums, struggling to keep the conversation vulnerable, to not deflect or use humor as a defense mechanism.

he watches her for a moment, his gaze focused on every twitch of her features, studying her like he wants to commit every inch of her to memory. "that's not right," he mutters, his hand leaving her face to cradle the back of her neck, holding her gaze. "no one should ever make you feel like that, sweetheart." his thumb rubs soft circles into her skin, a gentle touch meant to soothe.

“i know.” she mumbles, her eyes downcast, like she was almost embarrassed about the whole thing.

he tilts his head, shifting closer, his free hand landing on her other cheek, a gentle touch that feels like it’s meant solely to comfort her. "hey," he murmurs, his gaze on her face, watching her reaction to his touch, watching the flicker of emotion in her expression. "look at me."

her gaze flicks up to his, her cheeks slightly squished between his big, warm hands.

he holds her gaze, his expression soft, tender, something protective behind his gaze. "you trust me, yeah?” he asks, his voice low, a rough whisper.

she nods a little, but it’s quick, like she didn’t have to think about it.

he exhales, slow and even, his gaze running over her face. "good," he murmurs, a hint of a smile tugging on his mouth, barely noticeable. "i’m gonna ask you somethin’ and i need you to promise you’ll be honest.”

she nods again, her gaze on his, eyes like two deep pools of green. “okay,” she swallows, her voice coming out quieter than she meant it to.

he notes the shift in her voice, the way she swallows, his gaze still locked on hers. “do i make you nervous, sweetheart?”

“just a little.”

he lets out a soft laugh, the sound low and rough, his gaze skimming over her face, taking in every subtle change in her expression, every flutter of her lashes. "why am i makin’ you nervous?” he asks, his tone lightly teasing, yet still soft, almost tender.

her gaze flits away, before coming back. “you just… you know what you’re doing. and i..” she sighs, blinking hard. “i want you to like me.”

his gaze flicks over her face, taking in the vulnerability in her confession, the way her voice trembles a little. "sweetheart, i do like you," he murmurs, this thumbs swiping over her cheeks, like he’s trying to commit the feel of her skin against his fingers to memory.

she swallows again, blinking hard, her gaze not meeting his, her fingers fiddling with the fabric of his shirt, and she shakes her head. “i don’t just want you to like me,” she mutters, her cheeks flushed a little, like she’s trying to fight this weird vulnerability, like she’s desperate not to feel this way. “i want you to… want me,”

he hums, leaning down so his face is close to hers, his hand tilting her chin up, coaxing her gaze to meet his. "i do want you," he mutters, his voice low, the words a promise, a vow. there's no hint of hesitation or teasing now, just the raw, unfiltered truth, his gaze locked on hers.

“no, like. really want me. not just want to have sex with me.”

he exhales, his gaze still locked on hers, his touch still just as gentle, his thumb tracing the contour of her jaw. "i really want you," he whispers, his voice low and rough, but there's no hint of a lie in his voice, no hint of deceit. he means it, every word, the way he looks at her, like she's the sun and the stars and the goddamn moon all at once.

“you mean that?” she breathes, looking up at him with an expression that could only be described as hopeful.

he hums, his fingers still tracing her jawline, his gaze fixed on her face, her expression making his chest clench with some emotion he’s not sure how to name. “yeah, baby.” he murmurs, his voice so soft, it almost matches the gentle rain falling outside. and he means it, he can’t remember a time he’s ever meant something more in his life. the look on her face, the vulnerability, the hope, it makes him want to keep her safe, to keep her whole, to make sure nothing ever hurts her again.

her throat tightens at the petname, the casual way it slipped off his tongue catching her off guard.

he sees the way her throat tightens, his gaze locked on her face, how she seems to falter, just a little, just in the slightest. he feels possessive at the sight, his hand still on her jaw, and he leans down a little, his gaze flicking over her face. "you like that, sweetheart?" he murmurs, his voice low and soft, a hint of a smile and something else in there, something he doesn’t want to acknowledge just yet.

her lips part, but no sound comes out, just a shallow breath, her fingers tightening in the fabric of his shirt like she needs something to hold onto. her gaze flickers, her lashes lowering for a brief second before she looks back up at him, something unspoken in her expression.

he watches her, every shift, every flicker of emotion, his thumb still tracing along her jaw like he’s memorizing her by touch alone. “thought so,” he mutters, almost to himself, his voice rough, a little pleased. the sound of the rain outside fills the space between them, the soft rhythm a quiet contrast to the tension settling thick and heavy in the air.

she exhales, something shaky in the way her breath leaves her, her body still, like she’s waiting, like she’s bracing herself for something. his gaze drops to her mouth, his thumb pausing for just a second before resuming its slow path along her jaw, then down, tracing the column of her throat. his touch is light, barely there, but she feels it like a brand, like something she won’t be able to shake.

“you really mean it?” she asks again, but softer this time, quieter.

his lips quirk, just barely, his head tilting like he’s considering the weight of her question, like he already knows the answer but wants her to hear it again. “sweetheart, i don’t say shit i don’t mean.” his voice is quiet, but there’s something certain in it, something unshakable. “i want you. really want you.”

her fingers flex in the fabric of his shirt, her breathing a little uneven now. she looks at him, really looks at him, searching his face for any sign of hesitation, any trace of dishonesty, but all she finds is something devastatingly real. something solid. something terrifying in how much she wants to believe him.

he watches the way she processes his words, the way she swallows hard like she’s trying to push down whatever storm is building inside of her. his hand shifts, sliding back to cradle the nape of her neck, his thumb pressing gently into the soft skin there. “tell me what you need, baby,” he murmurs, his voice low, coaxing. “whatever it is. just tell me.”

her lips part again, but for a second, she doesn’t say anything, just breathes, just looks at him with something raw and unguarded in her eyes. then, finally, barely above a whisper—

“just… don’t go.”

something tightens in his chest, something sharp, something he doesn’t know how to name. he exhales slow, his thumb brushing over her skin like a silent promise. “i’m right here,” he murmurs, leaning in until his forehead is barely an inch from hers, his breath warm against her skin. “not going anywhere.”

her eyes flutter shut for a second, her shoulders losing some of that tension she didn’t even realize she was holding. when she opens them again, there’s something softer in her gaze, something tentative but real.

it shakes her to her core, and for the first time in a long time, she has to fight back tears.

his expression shifts, something deep and instinctive stirring in his chest as he watches the way her breath shudders, the way she blinks too quickly, like she’s trying to force it all back down. his hands tighten, just slightly, like he can physically ground her, keep her from slipping away into whatever storm is brewing behind her eyes.

“hey,” he breathes, barely more than a whisper, his thumb tracing slow, deliberate circles against the nape of her neck. “it’s okay.”

she shakes her head, just a little, her lips pressing together, like she doesn’t trust herself to speak. her fingers curl tighter in the fabric of his shirt, holding on, like she needs something solid, something real.

his heart clenches at the sight. she’s always been so damn untouchable, so good at keeping things locked down tight — but right now, she’s not. right now, she’s looking at him like she’s unraveling, like she’s scared of what he might see, and he doesn’t think he’s ever wanted to protect anything more in his life.

he shifts, his hands slipping lower, wrapping fully around her, pulling her against him without hesitation. her breath catches, her body stiffening for a split second before she just—melts. lets herself sink into it, lets herself be held.

he feels the exact moment the fight drains out of her, the moment she stops trying to hold herself together and just lets him do it for her. his fingers press into the small of her back, firm and steady, like he’s anchoring her.

“s’okay,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against her temple, his voice low and certain. “i gotcha,”

she exhales, slow and shaky, and this time, when she blinks too quickly, she doesn’t fight it. doesn’t stop herself from pressing closer, from burying her face in his shoulder, from letting out the smallest, quietest, most vulnerable sound he’s ever heard from her.

he just holds her tighter, presses his lips against her hair, breathes her in like she’s something sacred.

she’s tucked in his nape, her arms around his neck, one leg around his waist and the other slung over his thigh. he’s warm, solid, comforting. he smells good, and for a moment it’s like she’s five again, in her dad’s arms.

the thought sneaks up on her, unbidden, hitting her harder than she expects. it’s not the same — of course it’s not — but there’s something in the way he holds her, in the quiet, steady warmth of him, that reminds her of a safety she hasn’t felt in years. something old and instinctive, something she thought she’d outgrown.

her throat tightens, her fingers curling a little where they rest against the nape of his neck. he doesn’t say anything, doesn’t push, just keeps rubbing slow, absentminded circles into her skin like he’s got all the time in the world to sit here and hold her.

his grip shifts just slightly, his fingers spreading across the small of her back, pressing her closer. “you good?” he murmurs, low and rough, his breath warm against the shell of her ear.

she nods against his shoulder, but it’s not entirely convincing. she knows he knows. he doesn’t call her on it. doesn’t make her say anything she isn’t ready to. just hums a little, like he’s letting her know he hears her anyway.

her eyes slip shut again, her weight settling fully against him, and for once, she doesn’t feel the need to pull herself together. doesn’t feel like she has to keep up the armor, keep up the performance. she’s just… here. in his arms, in his warmth, in the quiet rhythm of his breathing.

[emeryhiro]

I over analysed TBOC trailer

I did it again, I don't know how to stop overanalysing anything that I find that's Carol & Daryl Related, and I'll say in advance that this will be another long one, but I really hope you guys enjoy it because as always I had a lot of fun writing it ♡

Firstly, I want to say that there will be a second post coming, which will briefly cover my thoughts on the SDCC panel. However, in this post, I'm going to breakdown all the scenes from the trailer that I think are the most important/interesting. I'll also be expanding on some of the scenes that I saw in episode 1, specifically the ones shown in the trailer, so that I can avoid spoiling anything that hasn't been shown yet.

Also, just as a note, I've listed the scenes below in what I think is timeline order (to my best guess), which means that I'm leading with the scenes from the trailer that are actually in episode one. So, a spoiler warning for those, as I'll be delving into them in a little more detail than I have before.

Carol's flashback at the barn doors:

This is the flashback scene of Sophia that Carol has in episode one, which has already been spoiled/posted online, but here you can see a glimpse of it in higher resolutions.

Isabelle and Daryl at the Nest

This is one of the scenes from episode one, specifically the scene where Daryl tells Isabelle that he doesn't know if he'll ever be happy staying at the Nest/France.

Ash and Carol opening the shed door:

This was also a scene from episode one, in which Ash shows Carol his stockpile of fuel, which is enough to get them to France and back.

Genet and Daryl:

This is another scene from episode one, which directly follows the scene in the sneak peek where Daryl attacks Genets' convoy. As seen in the trailer, as Daryl is about to shoot Genet, he's interrupted by a delayed explosion in the background, allowing her to get away. Anne's performance here blew my mind!

Carol & Ash takeoff:

These few shots are also from episode one and are pretty self-explanatory. But just to go over it again briefly, certain events led to Carol and Ash having to leave America/take off in the plane in a rush, which I'll add may not have been the ideal time in terms of logistics (you'll see what I mean); however, we can see that they make it into the air, which then gives us the beautiful shot of the sunrise in the distance.

This scene also features a really beautiful moment and dialogue between Ash and Carol, which I know you guys will love. It definitely made me love Ash a lot more.

For the Anon from last week: This scene may or may not have been the one I was referencing with the emojis 😊💖

~~~~

This wraps up all the scenes from the trailer which are from episode 1 that I wanted to talk about. There are a few others, but I don't think listing them right now is relevant.

From here on out, all the scenes that I mention come in later episodes, so the order of the scenes is just my guess of how I think things are going to happen, and it could honestly be completely wrong.

~~~~

Genet flashback:

To me, this looks like a flashback of younger Genet watching someone she cares about getting killed, which is potentially what motivated her and led her on her journey to becoming who she is and touches on what Laurent meant when he told her, "you're not angry, you're heartbroken" in season 1.

Additionally, the scene's background looks to be set in the Louvre, which we also see in an outside shot.

Ash/Carol's plane landing in France:

As I've mentioned previously, it appears that the plane lands somewhere in what looks like the French Alps, the possible location of which I broke down in one of my previous posts [here]. However, what we can see here is that the plane doesn't appear to be in good shape and will probably need some repairs before it can fly again, which is one of the reasons I don't expect Daryl and Carol to be leaving France using the plane and instead having to go to Spain (by land) as confirmed by the showrunners and cast.

Also, how good do Carol and Ash look in this scene?!

They look like a literal ad, and I love seeing them fighting walkers together! I'm genuinely gonna start praying that Ash survives.

Daryl surrounded by soldiers:

This is another really interesting shot because it appears that Daryl is being chased and surrounded by civilian soldiers who seem to be dressed just like the people of the Nest, with the addition of a red armbands and using older guns, which makes me think that these could possibly be civilians from the Nest that Genet had recruited to betray and attack the nest from the inside, alongside her soldiers. This solidifies what Norman said we'd see in season 2 as "wolves in sheep's clothing."

Another thing to point out is that Daryl's face is not covered in cuts and bruises yet, which leads me to believe that this is set early in the season, possibly in episode 2, before the reunion.

Daryl getting beat up:

Daryl appears to be captured by Genet and her men here. Although they make it look like Genet is talking to him directly as he's getting beat up, I think the scene with Genet is placed there to throw us off and, in fact, happens at a different time.

We then see the scene of this boy locking himself into the cell where Daryl is being held as he tries to get away from walkers. An interesting thing to note here is the resemblance between this guy and the guy in a cream-coloured jacket standing behind Carol in the previous teaser (comparison images below).

However, another possibility is that some of the group from the nest have come to save Daryl, and the walkers inside and outside are being used as a distraction.

Daryl fighting the walkers outside the car

The location of this scene looks exactly the same as the place that we can see in the shot below of Carol in a car surrounded by walkers.

The second angel solidifies that Daryl is the one killing the zombies surrounding the car as he approaches it. It's important to note that there appears to be at least one other person with him who shoots the walker that can be seen on the right, in the head.

Daryl in the car

So we can see the blood covering the windows of the car, which matches the scene where Carol is stuck in a car surrounded by walkers, and we can tell that there's someone outside the car killing the walkers, resulting in the blood splatter covering all the windows.

However, it looks like all the blood on the windows is now dry in this new scene, which leads me to believe that they (Carol and Daryl) were in that car for a while, maybe stuck/hiding from someone or just catching up and figuring out their next move.

And then we see what looks like a person or walker thrown through the back window🤣; they really can't have a moment of peace.

Codron at the gates of the Nest:

This scene looks to be set outside the gates of the Nest, which we saw in season one. Codron looks to be chained on top of a buggy that launches an explosive, destroying the Nest's gates. I expect that Codron was chained there as bait to lead the horde of walkers that we see running into the Nest.

Motorcycle & Car crossing a bridge in Paris:

This scene could involve the group (Carol, Daryl, Codron) returning to Paris after the attack and fall of the Nest.

Codron and Falou:

This is most likely the moment when Codron arrives at the Paris Nest base, and Fallou appears to be pointing a gun at a kneeling Cadron, furious at what Cadron had done to his group in the past; however, Carol and Daryl probably vouch for him; explaining that he helped them. It's also likely linked to the set photos/video that we've seen of Carol, Falou, and Codron sitting around a table in the same location.

Daryl and Carol in Paris:

No joke, I was cheering out loud when I saw this scene at the end of the trailer!! Having them in the same frame again (even if Carol is blurry) is a literal dream 😭 I love them so much, and this single frame was worth the long wait for the trailer. More on my thoughts about this scene in my theory at the end of the post (below the line).

Carol Walking through Paris:

We see Carol approaching a building (below), the Mobilier National, a museum and tapestry manufacturing facility in Paris. The side of the building that Carol is looking at is the chapel.

This location could be Genet's Paris base since, as you can see, several vehicles are parked outside, resembling her convoy and soldiers dressed in her group's uniform. Additionally, we see many people in civilian clothing walking into the building, similar to the ones that surrounded Daryl previously.

Daryl walking with the guitar

I believe this scene is post the Carol x Daryl reunion because of 2 main things.

The scars and bruising on his face match those we saw in the behind-the-scenes photos of Melissa and Norman filming together.

The surrounding area looks like the race track that we also know they filmed in together from set photos.

The other thing I want to mention here (I'm going to fangirl for a second, so bear with me) is the smile on Daryl's face; I just imagine that he's looking at Carol in this scene and overwhelmed with joy at the thought that they're together again, that they've found each other and they're going home. I really hope I'm right.

Codron shooting at a convoy:

So many interesting things in this shot which I haven't completely figured out how they'll fit into the story but I'll just breakdown what I see.

Ash/Carol's plane is in the background, and I'll add that it is not in the same spot where we see them land it in the other scene (Maybe after Daryl saves them in the car, Ash is injured so he heads back to fix and move the plane while Carol goes off to help Daryl).

Cordron is covered in injuries (broken arm, bandaged eye, bruising) potentially caused by Genet and her men as punishment for not giving away the location of the Nest in Season 1.

It also looks to be on the same race tracks we saw Daryl at in the guitar scene.

Cadron appears to be shooting at Genet's men/convoy that's approaching.

Dary sitting in a different car.

Looking at the seats of this car, they appear to be different from the one Carol was hiding in/surrounded by walkers.

The seat style suggests that it's an older vehicle, which could be the interior of the black sedan approaching Codron as part of the Convoy (gif above).

Daryl looks a little defeated, which may be due to them losing the plane (or the pilot😭).

Daryl in a tunnel:

As we can see, Daryl has his crossbow on his back, which means that this scene is also taking place post-reunion, possibly near the end of the season when Carol and Daryl decide that it's time for them to leave France and find their way home.

They appear to be in the unground Channel tunnel connecting France and England, which I expect them to try to head through since Losang had told Daryl in season one about boats that can travel between England and New England (US). However, it looks like there may have been a Chemical explosion/blockage in the tunnel that prevents them from getting across, leading them to try to find a way back to America through Spain.

~~~~~~

I know that was a long one but there was so much content in that trailer!! I'm so happy that the promo season has now kicked off and can't wait to keep getting some amazing content and interviews.

Thank you to all of you who read through this analysis! I would love to know your thoughts on any of the things I mentioned or left out. ♡♡♡

Also, based on all the content we got today, I now have a theory of how the rest of the season (episodes 2-6) will go, which I've included in this post (below the line) for those of you who are interested.

My Theory:

Thank you for sticking through the whole post and getting to this part ♡ Okay, so the trailer gave us all of these scenes out of order, but after I put them into some kind of order (to my best guess), I now have a theory about how things are going to play out from episode 2 onwards, I'll be leaving out episode 1 because that part wouldn't be a theory and I don't want to be giving any major spoilers 😅

Episode 2:

I believe that Daryl somehow hears that Carol (or someone who could be Carol) is in France and is looking for him, which is when he decides that he has to leave the Nest and go and find her; however, this is when the Nest is attacked (for the first time), and Daryl is surrounded by Genet's civilian soldiers, captured, and taken to Maison Miere, where we see him getting beaten up in the trailer.

Carol, Ash, and the two other mystery people with them either find out that Daryl has been captured and is being held there or get ambushed and stuck on their way to the Nest.

One of Carol's companions manages to find their way past the walkers into the building/Daryl's holding cell and frees Daryl. Daryl is then seen fighting his way through walkers inside the building as he's trying to get out and then fighting through the walkers surrounding the car that Carol, Ash, and the other mystery person are trapped in, leading to the long-awaited reunion.

Episode 3:

Now that they're reunited, I expect they spend some time in the car catching up on everything (at least long enough for all the blood that's on the car to dry, as seen in the scene above) and coming up with a plan. Finally deciding to leave once the walker comes flying through the back window, they head back to the Nest, potentially knowing that a second attack is imminent and wanting to help whoever they can.

As Carol and Daryl get back to the Nest, they manage to free Codron from his chains. However, they're too late and unable to save everyone. This final attack leads to some of the people from the Nest (Laurent, Isabelle, Silvy, etc.) ending up on the run or being captured by Genet.

Now that the Nest has fallen, they (Carol, Daryl, and Codron) have nowhere to go except back to Paris. Once back in Paris, we find that Daryl is now torn; he's finally reunited with Carol, and this is their chance to leave without taking any more risks; however, he feels guilty about leaving Laurent and the others in Genet's hands.

Carol is initially frustrated with Daryl (maybe this is where they're bickering like an old married couple 🤣) and how he's considering risking their lives again even though they only just reunited and are safe despite all the odds; however, seeing Daryl in this predicament, how he clearly cares about these people and how the guilt is affecting him, Carol ultimately decides to help him rescue whoever they can.

Episodes 4-5:

This will lead us into Caryl's rescue adventures for the next two episodes. Ending in them rescuing some of the people who were captured, including Layrent, Syvlie, Emile, etc. (Unfortunately I don't expect Isabelle to make it)

Episode 6:

After the rescue, they leave Laurent in Cordrons care, who has now redeemed himself and can raise Laurent as the brother he once lost.

Now that they've made things as right as they can, they feel ready to leave, however, there may be several failed attempts,

The first being the plane. Unfortunately, Genet's people find their location and try to stop them, which is where we see Codron shooting at the convoy in an attempt to slow them down, allowing time for Daryl/Carol (and maybe Ash) to try to get away. However, they end up losing the plane (or Ash 😭), and they're no longer able to get away.

Their second will probably be through the Channel Tunnel, which is another failed attempt due to what we can see in the trailers, which appears to be a chemical/acid explosion, with a portion of the tunnel collapsed and overrun by walkers.

Their final attempt will be going to Spain on land in hopes of finding another way across the Atlantic.

~~~~~

That was so fun to write and I'd LOVE to hear what you guys think, and if you have your own theories, ♡♡♡ Mine seems to be constantly changing.

[lovecla]

IF YOU LOVE ME, LET ME KNOW | jack hughes.

chapter ten:

<last chapter> <epilogue>

➴ warnings: none :)

➴ word count: 1k

➴ author’s note: and finally, the last chapter of IYLM,LMK. this one’s a bit shorter but i wrote a longer epilogue for you guys :) i’ve been writing stories since i was ten years old but this is the first time i finish the entire thing and actually like it. don’t know how to thank each and every one of you for reading what i write and for appreciating it as much as i do. but thank you.

liked by jackhughes, tyla, nicohischier and 3,798,012 others

sophiamontenegro make me yours is officially, well, yours now!!!!

every time i release something i feel extremely lucky and grateful, no matter what. today, i'm more than happy to share this part of me with you all. we've been working on this album for a whole year now and it's insane how much things can change in such a short amount of time.

i've learned a lot about myself during this whole process and it's crazy yet so rewarding. this album is a message to everyone i love and to young sophia, specially.

hope u enjoy!!!!! 💙

View all 13,086 comments

morgan.grace Soph, i can’t tell you how PROUD i am. I’ve known you for almost six years now, and i pray every. Single. Day. That we have the rest of our lives together. I love you so much! Happy horny album day! 💙

sophiamontenegro morgan.grace i love u

user1 I LOVE YOU SO MUCH

user12 Jack can u fight lol

ellievlasic woaaaaaaah

njdevils sophia MONTENEGRO 💜

_quinnhughes Congrats Soph!

sophiamontenegro _quinnhughes thanks quinny!

lhughes_06 _quinnhughes sophiamontenegro Y’all coming for dinner tonight ?

_quinnhughes lhughes_06 You could’ve just texted

sophiamontenegro _quinnhughes jack and i are coming!!!

user5 sophiamontenegro yeah i bet u are

user3 I’m so in love with this album, horny sophia is my favorite sophia

user11 thats that me espresso indeed

jackhughes I wonder who inspired you to write these songs

user67 jackhughes crazy shit to say tbh

— ♡

IN the beginning of January, you started writing your sixth album. Well, you started writing it officially, with the help of your songwriters and producers, because truthfully, you’d been writing it since you and Jack started seeing each other— just some random lines here and there in your Notes app on your phone, that quickly turned into songs.

Months passed and life got extremely busy. People seemed to be very interested in your relationship with Jack, in a weird, almost comical way. Several social media managers have already contacted your team to ask for your participation in YouTube videos, interviews and TikToks, but you refused most of them.

You didn’t mind about talking about Jack or spending time with him in studios, but you knew it wasn’t his cup of tea— even if he never said anything— so you just tried to separate your love life from your career.

The New Jersey Devils failed to make the Stanley Cup Playoffs, and Jack was really upset about it, just like Luke, Nico and the rest of the team, because despite what happened back in November, they all worked really hard.

Time passed after that, and it was summer again, one year since you and Jack started seeing each other. Sometimes, sitting on the bench at his and Quinn’s summer house, you ask yourself if things weren’t moving too fast. In less than a year, your life changed in ways you never even imagined before and you didn’t know if it was scary or not.

But whenever you thought of Jack, you remembered his thick, beautiful lashes, blond hair decorating his arms and legs, blue eyes that brought the ocean to you, smile that brightened the world.

You remembered how he took care of you, how he’d listen to your songs and recommend them to people, how he’d go to your concerts whenever he had the chance, and how he was often seen wearing your merch around town whenever the two of you weren’t together. How he’d watch you perform and congratulate you every time. How he’d spontaneously post pictures of you on his Instagram account, and how he’d reply to some of your fans' comments.

You had been right all along; Jack is your forever. He’s it for you.

You feel the sweet, cold breeze hit your face and you smile, watching as Jack, Quinn and Luke played with each other inside the lake, while Hischier talked with Ellen and Jim.

“Can you believe this is our life?” You asked, quietly.

“Actually, yeah, I can,” Grace replied beside you, laughing. “The only crazy thing about this is us falling in love with hockey players. Didn’t see that coming.”

“Right,” you nodded. “I can't imagine myself with anyone else though. That’s bad,” you joked.

“I don't know if it is that bad,” she shrugged. “Jack loves you a lot. That man can’t stop staring at you even when you’re ten feet away from him.”

You laughed, turning your head back in Jack’s direction, finding those blue eyes you loved so much immediately, who was now running towards you, with his body drenched.

“No, Jack, stay away!” You yelled, getting up quickly and running away from him.

“Soph!”

You started laughing, which made you lose your pace, making it easier for Jack to wrap his wet, cold arms around your body, wetting your white dress.

“Jack, stop, you’re making me wet!”

“That’s what she said,” he whispered in your ear, picking you up and making you wrap your legs around his waist. “Hi, Soph.” He smiled.

You gave in and kissed his lips, smiling softly as he kissed you back.

“Hi, Jack Hughes.”

He put you down and turned you around, wrapping his hands around your waist and resting his chin on your head. “I think this is the happiest I’ve ever been.”

That surprised you, and you felt yourself smiling even wider. “Not when you joined the Devils? Not when I won a VMA? Not when I gave you a blowjob just this morning—”

“Okay, okay,” he laughed, kissing your cheek. “Those are all super happy moments but right now, here with you, baby… I’ll never be this happy again.”

A few years later, you’d look back at that moment and think, oh, Jack, baby, that’s just the beginning. Because he would say the same thing years later, when he kissed you at the altar, or when he held your daughter for the first time.

“I get what you mean,” you snuggled closer, ignoring the wet clothes. ��I’ve been happy before. I am happy. But this… this is different.”

“Yeah,” he whispered. “So different.”

“Will I ruin the moment if I say I need to go pee?” You bit your lip.

Jack laughed out loud and picked you up again. “I love you, Sophia Montenegro.”

“I love you more, Jack Hughes,”

“Well,” he kissed your cheek. “I think that’s up for debate.”

“Well. Maybe.”

— ♡

liked by sophiamontenegro, morgan.grace, ellievlasic and 219,983 others

jackhughes lucky fella. sophiamontenegro

View all 1,990 comments

morgan.grace saurrrr cuteeeee I love you guys

user83 ADOPT ME PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE

user86 imma start doing cocaine…

user1 i wanted to hate on them so bad but they lowkey fire asf :/

user7 soph when u hug him, remember you’re hugging my whole world…

nicohischier ❤️

user8 Ain’t no way he can handle all of that

trevorzegras user8 he can’t.

jackhughes trevorzegras fuck off

[lara4eclipze]

» I Miss Us

sypnosis: lara was never one to be in situationships nor talking stages, she claimed it was stupid and would only end up with ones heart broken or yearning — yet here she was missing you her only situationship

warning: angst, situationship, hurt no comfort, swearing, ghosting, italics for flashbacks, etc

talks: I'm so sorry for those requests i haven't written yet BUT trust i am gonna write some and release them maybe today and tomorrow!, thank you for your patience ^^

taglist: @ohmyhaely @nyssalvr @vrtualstar @c-yerim @jellaaa @nakylvr @chuugetmesohigh

lara stared at her phone, at your conversation to be specific — it's been two months since you two have even chatted, in lara's opinion is the longest two months of her life

lara used to get excited just staying up and chatting with you — sneaking out of the dorms just to have drinks or eat out with you, it didn't matter that she could've been caught by her management — what mattered to her was you

the door to the kats shared house creeks louder than lara would've wanted — her eyes adjust to the dark environment only to make out a figure standing near the kitchen, their leader sophia

"where have you been?!, you know i have been worried sick? i called everyone including your mom!" sophia screams at lara, maybe for the first time in a while — atleast lara wants to pretend like so

in reality lara has been on sophias nerves ever since she started to talking to you — she always left without telling anyone she would be lazy in practices just so that she can chat with you

"go to your room — and whoever it is you are meeting up with, stop it lara you're getting too distracted" sophia mutters trying to keep her calm demeanor "stop telling me what to do" lara snaps back

"do it or ill tell the management team" sophia threatened, it all just stopped from that moment on — lara had to choose between her needs and wants, she walked silently to her shared room fidgeting with her phone

she debated whether to chat you or listen to sophia yet as much as she hated what she was gonna do she did it

she ghosted you.

the first week was confusing to say the least — lara who always chatted with you through every platform was now getting cold?, her usual energetic response to your chats were now replaced with "yeah" or "okay"

the second week was weird, lara had took almost 2 - 3 days just to respond to you, you double texted you had even called her a few times yet it always ended with her giving you a honestly lame excuse

the third to fourth week hurted the most, lara had fully ghosted you, she didn't respond at all, you knew she was active on her socials i mean she posted every week — she always saw your texts she just chose not to open them, you got desperate for even a drop of her attention, it got so bad to the point you tried contacting her other mutual friends

by the second month you had started to accept what had happened — you didn't wait for a notification from her user anymore, you didnt expect a miracle to happen

lara breaths heavily as she back reads on your chats — it took all of her courage not to call you during all of this, she tried and tried making herself believe that you were just a waste of time that you were just a distraction

yet every little thing makes her remember you, late night trips?, your favorite food, even your scent — it all comes back to you

maybe you were meant for eachother just not in this time not in this moment — she sighs massaging her temples, her lips pressed into a thin line as longing creeps into her

she types then deletes again, types and then deletes — maybe it was too long?, too casual? — lara over analyzed her text to you, until she just typed something simple

a notification pops up on your phone, it was 2 am who would be awake in such hour?

my laru♡: hi, how are you?

your heart sinks, everything you've worked so hard for has come down to this moment, moving on, crying even denial that she ghosted you

y/n: I'm good.

lara's mood shifts, you really are gone — the period on the end of the sentence and the proper grammar, screamed over her

my laru♡: I'm sorry, i miss us

you wanted to respond saying you do too, you missed hours and hours of taking with her — laughing at the stupidest things ever, god even that stupid nickname she had in your chats

y/n: me too.

yet as reality dawns on lara, its all a sick cycle — she could never date you, because of her career, she just wanted to pretend that it didnt matter just for a few more minutes

[jnkssgirl]

Intro post!

— basic :

࣪˖ ִ𐙚🪞call me ffy (nickname) virgo sun, scorpio moon, aries rising, infp-a personality, 15 yo, from chile (south america), obsessed with latin america literature, she-her, a beautiful poet syndrome.

— fav artists :

ᯓᡣ𐭩 🗝 lana del rey, lizzie grant, janis joplin, the doors, ratm, hole, nirvana, the dust brothers, bronski beat, daft punk, ayesha erotica, lady gaga, the cranberries, chappell roan, rammstein, queen, melanie martinez, fiona apple.

— films :

ᯓ★ 🐞precious, fight club, machuca, black swan, us, perras, girl interrupted, fantastic mister fox, war of words, ginger snaps, witch, el camino, dead poets society, frankenweenie, jojo rabit.

— books :

𖦹ִ ࣪🪼frankenstein, santiago blues, the girl on the train, virgins suicides, the house of the spirits, woman who love too much, maya's notebook.

— fav girls :

₊˚ʚ 🌱 cassie ainsworth, ginger fitzgerald, susana kaysen, elizabeth grant, jennie kim, nina sayers, jale fazer, alex consani, winona ryder, janis joplin, nathalie portman, sophia lili, isabel allende, jamie lee curtis.

— about me :

.°˖✧ 🍮 i love writing poetry and reading dramas, i spent half of my life dissociating, my favorite colors are blue and gray-pink, i have 1 dog, my favorite flowers are violets, my fav lana album is born to die (no skips), winter is my fav season, i can speaking spanish, and metalhead (but it doesn't fit my aesthetic)

— dni :

𓏲 ࣪₊♡ 🫀weird old men, homophobics, racists, xenophobics and misogynistics.

besos, ffy ⋆ ִֶָ ๋𓂃🎐 ⋆

[theink-stainedfolk]

A Party To Die For

Snippet

The storm howled outside, rattling the windows of the abandoned mansion. The wind crept through the cracks in the walls, whistling like something alive, something watching. The fire in the massive hearth flickered, casting eerie shadows across the room.

Alia Grant sighed dramatically, tossing her platinum blonde hair over her shoulder. “Seriously, this place is disgusting. I don’t know why we had to come here.”

“You���re the one who voted for a weekend trip,” Rowan Fitzgerald muttered, sprawled on the couch, staring at the ceiling like he was already done with all of them.

“Yeah, a resort, not—” Alia gestured around them, nose wrinkling, “—this.”

Gabriel Thompson leaned against the wall, arms crossed. His cold blue eyes swept the room, calculating. “We can complain later. Let’s just pick rooms.”

Scarlet Madison smirked. “Afraid of the dark, Gabe?”

Gabriel didn’t answer.

Sophia Pierce was sitting in an armchair, eyes sharp as they flicked between the group. She was reading them, analyzing, as she always did. “We should stay together.”

“Why?” Amelia Reynolds asked. Her voice was soft, hesitant. “Nothing’s gonna happen, right?”

A loud BANG echoed from somewhere upstairs.

Everyone froze.

Alia let out a short laugh, though it was too sharp, too forced. “Please. Just the wind.”

“Yeah,” Rowan muttered. “Just the wind.”

No one moved for a long moment. Then, Scarlet rolled her eyes and stood. “This is stupid. I’m picking a room.”

She grabbed her bag and walked toward the dark hallway.

“Scarlet,” Sophia said, frowning. “I don’t think—”

Scarlet ignored her. “Come get me if you find a better place to sleep.” She disappeared into the shadows.

A tense silence settled over the group.

“…She’ll be fine, right?” Amelia asked.

Rowan exhaled, shaking his head. “She’s got an attitude problem, not a death wish.”

And yet, as the storm raged outside, and the house settled with another unnatural creak, no one looked convinced.

Scarlet did not come back.

---

My ♡s: @paeliae-occasionally @willtheweaver @drchenquill @wyked-ao3 @the-inkwell-variable @corinneglass @seastarblue @keeping-writing-frosty @oliolioxenfreewrites @vesanal @orphanheirs @dauntlessdraupadi @oros-ash3s

[ralphmacchiato223]

𝐀𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐞 !!

!! 𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐃 𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐓 !!

☄︎♡⍣❀

My name is lexie!! spelled L-e-x-i-E. in case you can’t read and forget the E.

I was also named after Lexie Grey from Greys Anatomy!!

I’ve started making posts on the 14th of April !!

I’m 14.. i turn 15 this year tho. not saying when obvi ??

My favourite colour is pink but i have no idea why i decided to make my theme red. i just decided why not yk !!

My favourite singers are Taylor swift, Tate Mcrae, Olivia Rodrigo, Sabrina Carpenter, Harry Styles, Chappell Roan, Lana Del Rey and Charli Xcx. Yes, they are basic. i know. those are my favourite singers, not what i only listen to. i listen to literally every single genre of music there is. my playlist isnt full of popstars!!

My favourite movie is karate kid ||. I love the plot of the movie and imo daniel was in his primeee in this movie.

I’m bisexual… and i have been since 2021. the moment i realised i was bi is when i first watched squid game and started looking up Jung Hoyeon and saving photos of her 😭😭 i can’t blame myself tho she’s still sexy asf

For posting, i will take any request. but i do NOT write nsfw. i cringe already doing the head canons and i can’t imagine writing something else..

i’m also obsessed with taylor swift. i’m imlove with that woman. hence the banner with red on it. my favourite album is ttpd tho !!

This is irrelevant but my best friends are, Sophia, Caitlyn and Abbey. not in order ofc inlove them all equally ♥️

☄︎♡⍣❀

This is all about me, i can’t really think of anything else rn..

𝐁𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐬:

@uzmacchiato