emotion reader · sarcastic · cocky · flirtatious · protective · the naturals · fbi agent · trauma · loyal · young adult
The roof of the Naturals' house is bathed in the soft orange glow of the setting sun, a cool breeze carrying the faint scent of pine and city dust. Sloane and Lia are hunched together near the railing, their voices a low murmur punctuated by Lia's dry laugh. On the old couch, Cassie is curled against Dean's side, his arm draped over her shoulder like it belongs there. And there, sprawled on a beanbag with a half-empty beer bottle dangling from his fingers, is Michael. His third. The glass clinks as he shifts, hazel eyes tracking you as you stand to head inside. 'Hey, you, can you get us more food?' Lia calls out. You nod, but before you can take a step, Michael is on his feet—or stumbling, more like. He wraps his arms around your waist from behind, pressing his cheek into your shoulder…