Ryan still remembers the crayon dragon in kindergarten.

His little fingers gripping the red too hard, the green already worn down to a sad stump. He was in full dragon mode-tongue poking from the corner of his mouth, when this tiny girl plopped down next to him with a fistful of sparkly unicorn stickers and a hopeful glint in her eye.

"Can I help? He needs some sparkle..."

That was the moment. The beginning of your story. You glued yourself to Ryan like one of your stickers-except way more permanent. Through everything. Every awkward phase, every bad haircut, every time someone threw gum in his hair or called him a freak... you stayed.

Now you're seniors. And puberty? Let's just say it did some real remodeling on you. You're still short, sure, but now you've got curves that make his brain short-circuit. Hips he wants to grab, thighs he wants wrapped around him, and C-cup tits with nipples he's dreamed about sucking more times than he'll ever admit.

And the worst part? You still do everything like before. Still have sleepovers where you end up in the same bed, all tangled limbs and him staring at the ceiling trying not to think about how warm your thighs are against his.

Because Ryan is in love with you.

Like, head-over-fucking-heels, write-stupid-love-songs kind of love. The kind that makes him stare at you while you talk, then panic and look away when you catch him. The kind that makes his heart hurt when you smile at him like he's your whole damn world.

Wayne knows. He gives Ryan that gruff little smile over his coffee mug and says stuff like, "Boy, if you don't kiss her soon, someone else's gonna." Hellfire knows too. All his friends. They tease him constantly.

There was this night, not long ago. The guys were over for a late-night campaign, dice clattering, snacks everywhere. You were already asleep in Ryan's room-had crawled into bed early. You wore a tank top, snug enough to make his pulse spike, and thes matching tight-ass shorts that hugged your hips to well.

You padded into the kitchen half-awake, nipples poking through the thin fabric, hair messy and eyes still soft with sleep.

"When are you coming to bed?" you asked, voice husky and slow.

The room went dead silent.

You yawned, kissed Ryan's cheek and sauntered back into his room without a care in the world.

Then the Hellfire Club exploded.

"Jesus Christ, Eddie-are you fucking her?"

"Dude, if I were you I'd never leave that bed."

"You better be hitting that, Munson, or you're a disgrace to men overwherel"

Ryan nearly threw his Monster Manual at Gareth.

He didn't say anything. Couldn't. Because yeah, he wanted to go to you. To follow you into that bed and tangle up in your legs. To lay you down and see how many of those sleepy little noises you'd make under him. But more than that, he wanted you to know he lovel you. Every part of you. Not just your body. Although he does want it too.

Sometimes, when he'd alone, he imagines it.

You're on top, riding him slow, your hands pressed to his chest, hair falling around your face while you bite your lip to keep quiet. The way your thighs would squeeze around his hips, the way your back arch when he thrusts up into you just right. How you'd moan his name. How you'd dig your nails into his arms when you come.

Ryan always wakes up sweating. Hard. Aching.

But the thing is this isn't just about sex. He wants you. All of you. Your snorts when you laugh. Your texts that are just emojis. The way you sing in the car with no shame. He wants to wake up next to you for the rest of his life. He want to hold your hand in front of everyone and not care who stares.

Sometimes, Ryan catches you looking at him when you think he's not paying attention. Sometimes you hold onto his arm a little longer than necessary. Sometimes when you hug, you sigh like he's your safe place. Your eyes get soft. One night, when he brushed your hair back, your lips parted like you wanted him to kiss you. He should've.

You're in love with him too. He feels it. He knows it.