#it also just hurts him to know that she was hurting too.

[ollieofthebeholder]

I used to get violently ill every time my church had a celebration. Like, VIOLENTLY ill. I was fine with the regular potluck, but if it was, like, a graduation party, with cake and a punch bowl and all of that? I would be sick most of the night. I spent about ten years getting scolded for eating too much cake at these celebrations, as it was assumed that I, as an obviously fat child with no self-control, was simply lying when I said I'd only had one piece, or that I hadn't even had any because it was obviously whipped icing and I hated whipped icing.

Then when I was about fifteen or so, I was waiting patiently for the woman in charge of the punch bowl to add more soda so I could have a second cup of punch in hopes that the carbonation would settle my stomach, which was already starting to hurt, because the rest of the guests had drained it dry. I watched her come out with the bottle. I watched her pour it. I noted the paler label on the soda bottle. I expressed surprise (and mild dismay) that she was using diet soda in the punch bowl.

I was informed that she always used diet soda in the punch bowl.

It might seem like not such a big deal to YOU, because it tastes just as good and it's healthier and you don't need that much sugar anyway and and and...I've heard all the excuses, trust me. But saccharine triggers migraines, and sucralose gives me digestive issues, and aspartame does both, and even stevia makes my mouth hurt. I cannot drink diet sodas without getting sick.

And because nobody told me that was what was going on, I spent ten years getting fat-shamed by people who were trying to fix the wrong problem.

I'm also allergic to grapes. Guess what one of the most common filler juices is. Guess how many commercial cookies have raisin paste in them. Guess how many recipes use wine, or sherry, or brandy. (That's also one I have a lot of people trying to fix the wrong problem with. I ask if there's wine because the recipe commonly has wine in it, they assure me that even if it DOES the alcohol all cooks out, I explain that you can't cook out the grape, they get a very panicked look and say they'll find out.) Did you know that cream of tartar is a byproduct of wine making, and that cookies (like traditional snickerdoodles) that have cream of tartar in them are therefore unsafe for someone like me?

I'm also allergic to bananas. Guess what the most common egg substitute is in vegan baking.

And you know what? My brother hates mayonnaise. Absolutely loathes it. It's not an allergy thing, he just doesn't like it. And I still wouldn't give him food that had mayo in it without telling him. (I did once, at my mother's instigation. I'd made a pasta salad in scouts and brought it home for dinner, and my mother told him it had marshmallow fluff in it. He ate it, and afterwards, she told me to tell him what was REALLY in it. He threw up. Don't know if it was a genuine reaction or just him making a point. Don't care. I've never done that since.)

Don't sneak people food without telling them what's in it. Even if you want to show them that something is just as good as [insert food here], even if you know it's just a preference and not an allergy...just. Give them the courtesy of making their own damn decisions.

“Meatless alternatives are getting so good, you should try them! I bet you wouldn’t even be able to tell the difference! In fact….”

Please

Please

Please stop trying to sneak-feed me meat alternatives.

I am willing to prepare and share a vegan meal with you, I’m willing to skip animal products in our group spaces.

Please.

Stop trying to sneak-feed me meat alternatives.

[bratbarzal]

The Secret of Us (LH43) 1/3

aka the sequel to let it happen

Pairing: Luke Hughes x Fem!Reader

WC: 21k (oops)

I felt it, you held it, do you miss us? wonder if you regret the secret of us.

General Warnings: angst (lol), a severe lack of proofreading, mentions of injuries, a couple of angsty flashbacks with avoidant behaviour and fade to black type smut

A/N: just want to say thank you guys for liking this so much 💖 seeing all the comments and the messages and people recommending this to others and the sweet things you're all saying (even if I betrayed you lol) made me so unbelievably happy!!! I could never let these two go out like that, I enjoy writing this dynamic way too much, and I also have way too much discussing this fic with people!! shoutout to the let it happen film club lmao!!! I hope you guys enjoy this sequel, and I hope it lives up to LIH, they really are my babies!!

and I know what you're thinking, maggie how could we ever trust you again after let it happen??? you can't!! and you shouldn't!!! but I wouldn't do that to you twice.

or would I???

I wouldn't 😌

OR WOULD I?!?!?!?! 😏

You need to start getting more comfortable saying no to people.

It’s something you tell yourself all the time, that being a people pleaser is going to lead to your downfall - it’s something you’ve always known.

So why you would ever possibly agree to attend a football game with your sorority sisters after weeks of hiding away in the safety of your childhood bedroom, you have no idea. You’ve spent the last 4 weeks alone convincing yourself to grow a backbone, and you’ve only been back in town a week. 7 whole days and your resolve has crumbled to pieces.

And now you’re squeezing yourself through a crowd of sweaty, yelling men to find your seat in the cramped spaces of Michigan Stadium, after already being packed like a clown into the back of your friend Molly’s car, and your head is throbbing, already.

A football game.

You at a football game.

It’s absurd.

Dressed in team colours with a ridiculous yellow M painted on your cheek like you’re some sort of local.

It’s your own version of a living hell, and you can’t wait for it to be over.

“Are you guys always sat this low?” You yell out to Molly as the rest of your friends amble in, surrounded now on all sides with no way out.

“Aren’t the seats, great?!” She yells back, louder than you, causing you to wince a little at the shrill sound in your ear.

The seats are not great, but you wouldn’t be happy anywhere in here.

You can barely even see the field, the sidelines packed with God-knows-who, and your back hurts already, and all you want is to go back to the version of you that was first asked if she wanted to come with. A version of you that should have told Molly straight up that you’d have rather sat at home plucking at any remaining body hair with a pair of pointed tweezers than to come to a Michigan Football game.

“Oh, look!” Molly jumps, and you’re assuming she’s just going to point to her boyfriend, following her finger with a bored gaze. You’ve seen him, before. You don’t need to see him again.

Only Molly’s finger doesn’t point to her boyfriend.

It points to the sidelines - to a group of guys stood with a shorter girl with curly blonde hair.

Ellie’s down there, dressed in team colours, too. She’s stood next to Jack, who’s stood next to Quinn.

And you don’t even need to look past Quinn to know who’s gonna be stood beside him.

It’s way too late to go home, now, you fear.

Not when Molly is digging her phone out and pressing immediately on Ellie’s contact, and you can see the whole situation unfold in front of you. 

Ellie never has her phone on silent, and when it rings, it rings loud - a high-pitched, horrific tone that honestly sets off your fight or flight, and you can see the immediate reaction the boys have to it chiming in her hand. 

She answers, instantly, and you can hear Molly’s side of the conversation, guiding Ellie to where your group are up in the stands, waving like a lunatic until Ellie finds you all - and, as if your life isn’t bad enough, she then starts gesturing at you.

“Look who I managed to convince to come with!” She yells, still pointing like you’re some circus attraction, and, if you could remember what the ground felt like, too long in the stands, now, that you miss it, you would honestly want it to swallow you up.

Because obviously Ellie isn’t the only one looking.

Jack is looking.

And Quinn is looking.

And you know, once again without looking yourself, that the person beside Quinn now has his eyes on you, too.

The weight of them takes you back in a dizzying flash, and all of a sudden, you’re back in the lake house, sobbing into your hands until you were pulled into the soft embrace of your best friend.

“Hey, you’re crying, what’s wrong?” Ellie cooed as she came over, throwing her arm around your shaking frame and rubbing a hand up and down your back. “What happened?”

“It’s nothing, I’m fine,” you tried through shaky breaths, attempting and entirely unconvincing smile, like it would at all mask the flood pouring down your cheeks, “Go back to your party, I’m just being dumb.”

“I’m not gonna leave you like this,” she told you, “What's going on, is it Luke?”

The mere mention of his name brought back the onslaught of tears, your face scrunching as you tried to hold them back, but it was no use. Every single part of you ached with regret, your throat, your chest, your limbs - and all you wanted to do was curl up and cry it out. “I fucked it all up, El.”

“No,” she reassured you, “He fucked things up, he should never have spoken about you like that, it wasn’t fair. Not if the two of you are into each other, he shouldn’t be saying things like that.”

“He was right, though,” you sobbed, “I’m a mess, I just ruin everything good, I don’t even know why.”

“Aw, babe, no-,” 

“I told him I’d go out with Cole. I don’t even know why, I just wanted him to stop trying to make things work, he kept trying to tell me that he didn’t mean any of it, but I know he did.”

“Do you?” She asked, “Want to go out with Cole?”

“No, of course I don’t.” You shook your head, although you didn’t know how obvious it was, especially to everybody else, how little you wanted to be with anybody that wasn’t Luke. “I just want to go back to this morning, before I heard him say any of that stuff.”

“Why don’t you come downstairs, huh? We can find him, and the two of you can try to talk again-,”

“I can’t,” you refused, the thought of trying to communicate your feelings while you looked the way you did - eyes red raw and face all swollen - filling you with anxiety. “Can you just tell people I’m sick if they ask? I know it’s your birthday but I can’t go down there, Ellie.”

“Okay,” she had agreed, although the worry in her eyes made you feel even worse - missing your best friend’s birthday party because you were too chicken to face your feelings?

What sort of friend does that?

“I’ll come check on you, though. And tomorrow, you’re gonna have a serious conversation with Luke, alright? You can’t keep pushing people away, it isn’t good for you.”

“I know,” you sniffled, “I promise, I’ll try tomorrow.”

But trying had been futile. Luke wanted nothing to do with you - he could barely even look your way. He didn’t come downstairs for breakfast the next day, and when he finally did, he turned straight back around. Every time you tried to talk to him, he would shut you down, and by the tenth day of trying, you’d given up, entirely - booking yourself a ticket home, packing your things up one night and leaving the morning after. 

The following weeks were spent wallowing back home with your mom - texting Ellie, waiting for him to reach out, even though you knew he wouldn’t. Watching sad movies, staying inside, spending your days alone, while your mom was at work, and trying not to miss him so much.

And coming back to Michigan had only been made easy by the fact that he would be gone - due to go back to training in Jersey, and the two of you wouldn’t cross paths.

It won’t hurt as much, you had thought, if you didn’t have to see him.

But now here Luke is, following Ellie’s gaze as she waves up to you in the stands, stood on the sidelines of the football game you’d only attended to finally get yourself out of the house - still in Michigan, stood at the end of the path you thought no longer led to him. 

This might be the first time he’s met your eye in a while, and there’s a visceral feeling that shoots straight through you - your heart falling into an alarming, irregular thump that reverberates through your entire body, and it’s a strange sensation, like the slowing of time, the blurring of everything around you but him. 

His arm is held to his front with a sling, and you try to ignore the way your stomach turns at the sight of it. It’s nothing to do with you, he doesn’t want you to care. He doesn’t even want to talk to you, and you don’t want to talk to him, either - not anymore. Not after almost 6 weeks of silence - of forcing yourself to think about anything but him, like you even could.

You offer a tight lipped smile and a wave to Ellie, and try to ignore his presence for as long as you can, try to watch the game, to focus on your friends in the stands beside you - only, he keeps looking back. Craning his neck, surveying the crowd as it fills up just to find you, and your heart starts to hammer in your chest every time you catch his eye.

What happened to him avoiding you at all costs? What happened to ignoring your attempts to talk, the knocks at his door, the pleading, persuasive looks you’d try to give him when it all got a little too much in the end. 

Why can’t he just let you slip away into nothingness, like it would be so much easier to do?

Your phone buzzes in your back pocket as you’re trying to focus on the game, the desire to flee growing by the second - cramped and claustrophobic in your seat, dying for a drink and a minute of reprieve away from the crowd, away from Luke and whatever weird telekinetic powers he has on your heart.

Luke: can we talk?

Luke: I’ll be at the closest concessions in 5

You slip your phone back into your pocket without responding, and by the time you look back down to where he had been stood, he’s gone. 

You should be relieved. 

Maybe if you ignore his message, he’ll stop looking at you.

Maybe this is where it ends, and you can finally let each other go - too far gone to fix, nothing left to say.

Only your legs are now moving, side stepping Molly and the other girls, along with the rest of the people in your row, and your mouth is apologising to those you bump into, and your feet are carrying you down the stairs to where you know he’ll be, sneakers squeaking against the sticky floor as you search for him in the small concessions queue.

He stands taller than most, waiting by the counter, facing the other way, and you take the second that his back is turned to you to reconsider.

Stuck in place, staring at broad shoulders you’d once spent tracing the freckles between while he slept, and wondering which might hurt more - walking away or hearing him out. 

He turns before you get the chance to choose, his eyes meeting yours , widening in surprise, as much as they can, considering his current predicament, and he immediately heads your way.

“Didn’t think you’d come,” Luke just about says as he precariously holds onto a plastic cup between his teeth, offering you the one in his free hand - what you assume is diet coke with ice sloshing a little over the rim and onto the already sticky floor. 

“Can hardly leave a one-armed man to navigate the concession stand on his own. Not one with your appetite, at least.” Your brows furrow when you notice the distinct lack of snacks in his hold, but you figure he prioritised using what little carrying capacity he had to get your drink. “Do you want me to hang around while you get something to eat? I can hold your drink,”

“I don’t have much of an appetite,” he says, clearer now that he can hold his cup in his hand instead of his mouth. “I’m on some pretty strong painkillers, can’t eat without feeling sick.”

“Oh,” you frown, eyeing the sling that holds his other arm. He had been fine when you left the lake house - and even last week, in Ellie’s story on instagram, he hadn’t seemed injured then. It must be a recent development, and so close to the season, for him to be out in public wearing a brace, it can’t be good. “What happened?”

“Took a pretty bad hit on the ice,” he shrugs with his other shoulder, lips turning down like he’s trying to play it off, “Been telling myself it’s karma.” The way he chuckles is distant and noncommittal, and not at all like all the ways you’re used to seeing him smile or laugh. His eyes don’t squint, his mouth barely turns up, barely pushes those tell-tale folds into his cheeks that you used to press at when he was close enough to do so. Back when being in such close proximity made your heart thump in a different way.

But maybe that’s for the best.

Maybe one of Luke Hughes’ signature crooked grins might have made you do something stupid, like touch him again. You’ve worked too hard to push away the feeling of wanting to for the past month. 

“Karma for what?” You ask instead, head tilting to survey the damage, like you’d even be able to see anything through the thick yellow hoodie he has on. It’s better than looking him in the eye, you think.

“For what I said to Cole,” he tells you, the shame that lines his words doing little to alleviate the way they so quickly jab at you, all the memories of that day and that conversation rushing back at you full-force. Memories you’ve worked really hard to suppress. “For hurting you. I probably deserved to get hurt, too.”

“I’d never want you to be hurt, Luke.” You say before you can think better of it, narrowed eyes meeting his finally, watching as they soften slightly, let your words sink in and melt like warm butter, seeping into his every pore and breaking down his hardened exterior. 

“Me neither,” he almost-whispers, “For you, I mean. I wouldn’t want you to be hurt.”

You nod, momentarily pressing your lips together, your focus dropping to a patch of lint on his hoody, clenching your free hand into a fist behind your back to save yourself from reaching out to pluck it off. 

“Is that all you wanted to see me for?”

You don’t want to be rude to him, but it’s hard, especially when every instinct in your body is telling you to push him away - to keep him at arms length where he can’t pull you back in. 

“No,” he utters quickly, his feet shuffling as if he wants to step forward, reduced the metaphorical distance you’re trying to force between the two of you. “I was hoping we could talk.”

You just about save yourself from having your jaw drop wide open.

You’d tried to talk to him last month, before you left, and he had wanted nothing more to do with you. 

“In the middle of a football game?” You frown, daring to glance up - taking notice of the panic in his eyes when he reads you like a book, can recognise your retreating form from a mile off, by now.

“No,” he blurts out, “No, I mean later, if you’re free. Somewhere else.”

“I don’t know-,”

“We’re having a barbecue back at the house,” he interrupts, a look on his face like he couldn’t possibly accept no for an answer. “Like an end of summer send-off thing, you should come over, I know the guys would want to say goodbye properly.”

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” you finish your earlier thought, “Besides, your family probably all hate me.”

“Why would they hate you?”

“Because of what happened with us,”

“Oh,” He frowns, “No, they don’t hate you, I promise, not even Jack.”

“I find that hard to believe,” you scoff - when he had helped Ellie move rooms back in the sorority house last week, he could barely even muster a smile to send your way. He hadn’t been his usual stand-offish self, but he had hardly been friendly, either. You didn’t expect laughs and hugs and welcome-backs, but after the two of you had kind of made up back at his cousin’s wedding, and things were finally solid between him and your best friend, you thought some kind of bridge had been built.

Apparently not.

“I didn’t tell them.”

“Oh,” you don’t know whether you feel relieved or disappointed. He can’t have been that heartbroken about the whole thing if he never told a soul, right? Even you told your mom when you got home - granted, she was a whole bottle of rosé deep into the night and seconds from falling into a wine coma, but you still at least acknowledged your feelings to somebody. 

What did he do, just bottle all whatever feelings remained up and send them off down the lake? Enjoy the rest of his summer like you never happened?

“I didn’t think you’d want me to,” he continues, “You never really liked me talking about us with other people, so I didn’t.”

“Right,” you nod, biting your tongue to save from throwing out a bitter, thanks. You spent the last month watching heart-wrenching sad movies in your bed all day and he just went about his life like the two of you were nothing That’s fine. That’s cool.

“Ellie’ll be there,” he tries again, like she won’t be attached to Jack’s hip all night and you’ll be left on your own. “And a few of the Michigan guys, if you need a ride back to campus. I’d offer to drive you, but,” he nods down to his arm, “Or you can stay, your room is still free.”

Yourroom. Like you have any claim on any part of his world, still.

“I’ll think about it,” you tell him, because you can’t fully bring yourself to say no to his face. It’ll be easier when you’re back home, later, and can just ignore his texts, if he even cares enough to send any. “I should get back.”

“I can walk you back,”

“You shouldn’t be in a crowd with your arm,” your head shakes and you step back, your body language saying more than your lips even dare. “It’s fine. Thanks for the drink.”

“No problem.” He chews at the corner of his lip as he watches you retreat, like he has more to say. 

Despite spending the last month doing everything in your power to wipe your thoughts clean of Luke Hughes, you want nothing more than to hear it - but where you’ve been suffering and relating every pathetic, sad song you hear back to him and fighting every urge to reach out through fear of rejection, he’s been ignoring your entire existence. Repressing whatever feelings he may have had and neglecting any instinct he might have had to reach out, too. 

“Promise me you will?” He calls out when you’re a little ways down the tunnel, causing you to turn back to see him in the same spot, “Think about it, I mean. I’d really like to talk to you.”

Your fingers tense at the mere mention of a promise tumbling from his lips, your pinky sending signals to your feet to run straight back to him, practically itching to reach out and link with his. Instead, you nod, eyes darting to the big M that stretches across his chest, easier to look at that and lie than into his hopeful gaze. 

“Sure,” you tell him, because you can hardly make a promise you can’t keep. 

Not to Luke.

You’re not coming.

Luke realistically knew as much when Ellie arrived on her own - immediately going over to Jack and sparing Luke a glance out of the corner of her eye as she whispered to his brother.

But it’s taken him almost 2 hours to really come to terms with the fact - to stop keeping an eye on the door and whipping his head around any time a newcomer enters the house. 

He should have known when you refused to make a promise to him - not like you owed him anything in the first place. Should have known when the few attempts you made at joking around with him like old times, you’d barely mustered a smile - that familiar glint in your eye that shone only for him watered down into a dull gaze you refused to hold. 

God, he’s an idiot, he thinks.

He should have spoken to you when he had the chance - those few times you had tried to offer an olive branch, pushing a pre-poured glass of juice his way at breakfast or making space for him on the couch he’s now conveniently slumped on, all alone.

It feels a little like a lost cause now, trying to reignite some sort of spark between the two of you - not when you won’t even hear him out.

He’d felt a bit of hope when you’d met him at the stadium, thinking his text might have been left on read - and even though he’d made the effort to buy you a drink, he hadn’t entirely expected you to turn up. 

He thinks maybe that had been the first thing to throw him for a loop - arranging a meeting on a whim and you actually making an appearance. Maybe that’s why he couldn’t form a coherent sentence, or relay any sort of confidence in himself or what he was trying to sell you on. 

Maybe that’s why he couldn’t convince you to come.

He can’t blame you - your last 10 days here at the house had been miserable, on his account, and if he was in your shoes, he wouldn’t come back, either. He wouldn’t hear himself out, wouldn’t forgive himself.

The night of Ellie’s party should have been where he drew the line at avoiding you - the initial aftermath of your fight still sizzling, too hot to touch while the both of you were still reeling.

The morning after, he had been hungover - throwing back drinks like nobody’s business just to drown you out - and there was no chance of having a serious conversation, then, even though he had woke up alone in his bed wanting nothing more than for you to be there.

He’d gone downstairs sometime in the early afternoon, ignoring his growling stomach until he couldn’t do it any more , and had trudged into the kitchen only to find you there with Cole.

The bitterness within him fought violently with his need to puke, and he stormed back up to his room, no longer having any sort of appetite, and stayed there for the rest of the day.

The days that followed were no better - avoiding you at every given opportunity, ignoring your pleading eyes, leaving no chance for you to speak to him, despite all the times he could see that you wanted to. He’d leave every room you entered, turn away from every conversation you joined, and the final nail in the coffin was probably the time he ignored you knocking on his bedroom door one night, the soft call of his name feeling like a knife that twisted in his gut. 

You were gone the next day - your bedroom door open and the room empty when he walked past, your seat at the table vacant when he came downstairs for breakfast, and he seemed to be the only one who didn’t know. Ellie seemed unbothered, already having moved into Jack’s room, Quinn was drinking the green tea you had bought, that no one else was supposed to touch, Alex probably wouldn’t have cared either way, and Cole was already talking about meeting up with some other girl.

“Wow,” Luke had scoffed, throwing himself into the chair beside Cole’s and sneaking a peak at his phone screen, suddenly feeling a burning need to call the guy out. He was to the entire reason you called things off with Luke, and now he was talking to someone else? “Her bed isn’t even cold and you’re already moving on, huh?”

Ellie had glared at him from across the table, and Jack had frowned too, no doubt wondering why after 10 days of complete silence about the whole thing, he was daring to bring you up now.

“What are you talking about?” Cole chuckled, leaning back in his chair and raising a brow at Luke, who just said your name in response, with a pointed stare. “What about her?”

“Thought you were ending your summer with a girlfriend.” 

“Dude, where the hell have you been?” Cole snorted, amused, if anything, “She couldn’t have turned me down quicker if she tried. Man to man, don’t ever follow instructions from that one,” he pointed over to Ellie, “She led me on a wild goose chase all summer just so that I’d help her get her guy.”

“Hey!” Ellie called from across the table, “It’s not my fault you have no game. And I would have gotten my guy just fine without your help.”

Before Cole could retort, spurred on by the way Jack was chucking by her side, Luke frowned, straightening in his chair. “She didn’t want to go out with you?”

“No, but before you say anything, it has nothing to do with my game, alright? She’s into someone else, I guess.”

“Someone else?” Luke’s eyes darted over to Ellie, who just rolled hers in response, turning her attention back to Jack before she excused herself from the table.

“That’s my guess,” Cole shrugged, “She said she wasn’t into me like that, but come on.”

Wasn’t into him?

That wasn’t what you had said to Luke.

“Sorry man,” Luke offered, absentmindedly, head craning to see which direction Ellie left in. “As you were.”

He jogged out of the kitchen and up the stairs, just about catching her before she disappeared into her and Jack’s room. “Hey, wait,” he had called, watching as she let out a heavy sigh and turned to look at him with narrowed eyes. “She turned him down?”

“Did you not just have this exact conversation with Cole?”

“Ellie, c’mon,” he pleaded, desperation creeping up inside - feeling a little too much like guilt, and causing a serious discomfort in the pit of his stomach. “She said she wanted to date him.”

“You’re so unbelievably stupid.”

It didn’t quite hit the same as when you said it, shame washing over him at the way Ellie was glaring at him. 

“She heard you tell him that she wasn’t girlfriend material, and that she would just be hard work, and not worth his time. Lucky for you, she didn’t hear the bullshit you said before that.” Regret formed like a heavy ball in his gut, the weight of it almost pushing him to keel over. “She said whatever she had to to get you off her back because it hurt her less to push you away.”

“I don’t-,”

“And you’re the dumbass who just let her do it.”

That’s not fair, he thought. What was he supposed to do, just watch you move on without a care in the world, cheering you on with a stupid grin on his face while his whole heart crumbled to pieces at the thought of you being with anybody else?

“I’m not a mind reader, Ellie,” he tried to defend himself, “I can’t keep pushing at a door that won’t open.”

“My God, do you have a peanut for a brain, Luke?” She had shoved at his chest, “She’s been holding the door open for the last ten days, and all you’ve done is walk past it. She wanted to talk to you, and you wouldn’t even look at her!”

“I wasn’t ready! I thought she-,” 

He had thought you had taken Cole up on his offer of taking you out - had thought that’s the conversation he had stumbled into the day after the party - and he didn’t want to risk hearing anything about it, or seeing it in action.

“She said it didn’t matter.”

You had said that - he had asked you straight up, so there was no confusing it, but when he tried to remember, he can’t picture your eyes as you did. He must not have been looking, he thought, or maybe you weren’t looking at him. Either way, how’s he supposed to muster up a clear idea of your intentions if he can’t remember the look in your eyes as you spoke them. 

You couldn’t lie to him - you never could, even in the beginning, pretending to be aloof, pretending you weren’t into him, he could always see through you, back then, so why didn’t he try harder when it was something he didn’t want to hear?

“She’s really gone home? Not just back to Ann Arbor?”

“What are you gonna do?” Ellie scoffed, folding her arms across her chest, “Chase her down?”

“I don’t know, if I have to. We need to talk.”

“She’s probably back at her mom’s by now, she left pretty early. And I think it’s for the best if you leave her alone, Luke. She gave you a hundred chances to talk.”

“What am I supposed to do? I can’t just leave things like this, I made a mistake, I need her to know that, I need her to know I’m sorry.”

“It’s better if you both just cool off a little. She’s hurt that you’ve been ignoring her, it isn’t fair to keep playing hot and cold with her feelings.”

“That’s not what I-,”

“I know.” Ellie sighed, leaning against the wall and giving him a pitiful look as she finally took in just how panicked he had become, running hands through his hair and shifting between his feet. “Just give it time, that way you can both think about it, think about what you want to say without just saying things and not meaning them.”

And that’s all Luke has been doing since then.

Thinking about what he wants to say to you - thinking about how to fix things. All without knowing when it is that he would even see you again, or if you’d be willing to listen. 

He’d distracted himself with it - his mind stuck on just how bad he had messed things up, and it had put him into a rut - so much so, that he ended up hurting himself in training, an injury that would have him out for a good couple of months. And he had meant it, when he told you he thought it was karma, because he deserved a reality check, he thinks. It had shifted things into perspective, at least - because now he could stay in town a little longer, could try and make amends before he had to go home and properly start his season.

And when he’d noticed Ellie scanning the crowd back at the game, had followed her beaming smile all the way to you in the crowd, he thought his heart had stopped.

It had been 4 weeks since he’d seen you last - almost 6 since he’d spoken to you. Since he’d touched you, or kissed you, or seen you smile, and when your eyes meet his from the stands, widened and hesitant, he could tell you were feeling the same.

An insurmountable longing for something the two of you should never have thrown away.

He saw the truth, then, even as you looked away and diverted your attention back to Ellie - the truth he was too hurt to notice all those weeks ago back in your room in the lake house. 

That you felt the same way - you always had - you just weren’t used to it. Weren’t used to loving someone, or having them love you.

But he can’t quite tell if you still feel it.

He can’t expect you to, not with how reserved you’ve become.

He sighs, sinking into the cushions of the couch, legs stretched out and head thrown against the back as he squints against the light - the noise around him dwindling to a constant buzz. 

He’s too caught up in his head to notice when Ellie sinks down beside him until she nudges at his side, and he slowly looks her way.

“If it helps at all, I could tell she wanted to come.”

Luke snorts out a humourless laugh, eyes rolling. “If she wanted to come, she’d be here.” He says, the muscles in his jaw tensing. “She doesn’t want anything to do with me.”

“She doesn’t really open up to people,” Ellie sighs, and he can tell from the way she’s looking at him that’s only divulging this from a place of pity, although he guesses that’s better than her saying nothing at all. “It took us years to get to where we are, and even now I’m not sure she lets me all the way in, and we’re supposed to be best friends.”

“I feel like I don’t even know if she was ever into me in the first place,” he mutters, tracing at a scratch in the surface of the table. Even if he had thought different, back in the stadium, he can’t be so sure now that you haven’t shown. You’d have come if you still cared. “I’m still confused by the whole Cole thing-,”

“That was my fault,” Ellie interjects, “I thought I was doing the right thing, I didn’t realise that you two were-,” her teeth clash as she bites down, as if to stop saying the word, together. “Whatever you were. And she just got all in her head after she heard you saying all that stuff, it’s what she does, keeps her cards close to her chest until she loses them all.”

“That’s the problem, El,” Luke groans, “If she really liked me, she would have told you. If she was ever serious, you’d have known something was up. She wouldn’t have hidden it from her best friend and told me that she was gonna go out with Cole after all.”

“You know she turned him down, Luke, he said himself, she was into someone else.”

“Yeah, or so he assumed,” he grumbles, recalling the feeling he got when Cole had said as much, back on the day you left.

“And you know on my birthday when she overheard that conversation, she’d literally just told me that she liked you. That’s big for her, Luke. It might have taken her a while but she got there in the end. It’s your own fault for having such a big mouth and ruining it.”

“I told her I didn’t mean it,” he can’t help how whiney he sounds, lips pouting and a crease forming between his eyebrows. “I told her I was sorry.”

“And then you ignored her for almost two weeks until she had no choice but to leave. You don’t get to claim the moral high ground here, I’m sorry.”

“So what am I supposed to do? She won’t talk to me.”

“You just have to give her time, don’t give up again.” Ellie nudges him a little too forcefully, the sharp jut of her elbow in his ribs causing him to wince. “Really think about if there’s a version of you that could be friends.”

“What if I don’t want to be friends, what if I don’t wanna keep taking one step forward and three back?” 

“Then think about if you’d rather be nothing at all.”

“She hates me that much?”

“I don’t know, she stopped talking to me about it.” Ellie huffs, leaning back a little more into the couch. “But I’d take that as a no. If she hated you, neither of us would hear the end of it, trust me.”

He knows that’s true - all the odd comments you’d drop about Jack back in the beginning of summer. He knows you never hated Jack, but there was always a clear dislike, and you were never shy about voicing it to anyone willing to listen.

If you’re not talking about him at all, it means one of two things. You either give so little of a shit about him that you don’t see a use in bringing him up, or you don’t want to show vulnerability by admitting how much he hurt you.

He knows what he’d put his money on.

“Can’t you talk to her for me? Put a good word in?” He pleads, rounding his eyes in the hopes that Ellie’s pity extends to doing him a solid - he dedicated his entire summer to getting her and Jack together, after all.

“I think it’s best for the both of us if I stay out of her love life. My meddling is what got you guys into this mess in the first place.”

Luke sighs as he resumes his previous position, neck thrown against the back of the couch and eyes cast to the ceiling. 

Your room is right above - the bed on which you’d kissed him that first time, away from your scheming at the mall, still made and empty. The bed where you two would lay atop the covers, watching movies on the old staticky TV, sharing snacks between you and spouting commentary into the night.

He wonders, then, if you’d watched anything since the last time - before you left - and it’s that thought that has him pushing himself up and making his way up the stairs. 

Despite the amount of time since you were in here, it still kind of smells like you - like melon sunscreen and passionfruit perfume - and he casts a glance around for anything that might remain.

There’s nothing, though. No loose hair ties, forgotten jewellery, not even a book left behind.

And then he checks by the TV - the shelf below it housing a DVD player, and he powers it up just to press eject.

After a few seconds, a disc spins out.

Silver Linings Playbook, with Bradley Cooper and Jennifer Lawrence.

He might have seen it once or twice, can vaguely remember some of the storyline, but it isn’t until everybody has left the house a good hour or two later that he thinks he should watch it - if it’s the last movie you watched before you left - just to get an idea of your headspace. 

When he’s lounging on his own bed, the movie playing on his TV, Jennifer’s Tiffany saying to Bradley’s Pat, “I used to think that you were the best thing that ever happened to me, but now I think that you might maybe be the worst thing. And I'm sorry that I ever met you.” And it turns his stomach in a way he isn’t prepared for, tears pricking at his eyes at the thought of you watching this and thinking the same.

And then Pat responds, and Luke sits with the line for a good minute, pausing the movie as he ponders the response, "Good for you. Come on, let's go dance.” 

He wonders if you smiled the same way - soft and small, hopeful that one day the punches you throw to defend yourself are met with the same resistance, with a hand that grabs at them, and instead of fighting back, just pulls you closer.

It’s almost by instinct that he pulls his phone out, loading up the same app he always does when he’s watching a movie, ready to fill in a review when it gets to a part that resonates with him.

And there you are, on his friends feed - the last movie you logged being an hour ago, La La Land, which you had unsurprisingly given 5 stars, and had reviewed with just a quote - It’s pretty strange that we keep bumping into each other. Maybe it means something.

And he grins, really and genuinely beams, for what feels like the first time in a while, a small chuckle rumbling up from his chest as he checks for your review on Silver Linings - the same quote he loved so much sitting there under your 5 star rating. 

He doesn’t want to be nothing, he decides, then, like it was ever in question. 

And he realises it’s up to him to do something about it.

Luke’s first thought when it comes to fixing thing is to text you.

It’s simple, and it should be easy, but he sits staring at your name in his phone for 30 minutes trying to think of what would be best to say.

A casual, hey, in the hopes that you’d just instinctively type it back.

A call out, like, Bummed you couldn’t come over the other night, thinking you might have been feeling guilty.

A question, or even an invite, along the lines of, Do you want to meet somewhere? Because leaving someone hanging on an invite is just plain cruel.

But then he feels like he doesn’t want to force your hand - weirdly inspired by that La La Land quote you loved so much, about bumping into each other.

Only orchestrating a chance encounter was hard when you weren’t going out. Ellie had mentioned everybody going for drinks at one of the bars on campus, and you never turned up.

She told him your favourite coffee shop, and despite him hanging around all day one time, like a total creep, he didn’t catch sight of you once.

You weren’t with Ellie when he bumped into her at the mall, or at the diner, when he had gone for burgers with the guys and seen a few of your sorority sisters on the other side of the restaurant.

And even when Ellie had told him to come over to the house, that she’d take him into town to pick up some suits, because he was still in his sling and couldn’t drive himself, he had been disheartened to find out you wouldn’t be there - that you had a morning class, and Ellie hadn’t even seen you.

He settles for looking at the cute photo of you and Ellie on the mantle, greek letters painted on your cheeks, beaming smiles as you looked straight into the camera, and he still gets that twinge in his chest even looking at a photo.

A twinge that only grows when he hears a gasp from behind him, and he swiftly turns to see you at the bottom of the staircase, looking back at him, alarmed and surprised.

Luke’s eyes trail slowly up your bare legs, his throat going dry as they land on the oversized shirt you’re wearing - his shirt, he’s pretty sure, although he knows it’s probably best not to comment on that - before cutting up to your face, wide eyes staring back at him.

“What are you doing here?” You ask, stepping back toward the staircase where you rest your hand on the bannister, putting as much distance between the two of you as you can without completely retreating up the stairs. 

“I uh-,” he stutters, losing his train of thought as he stands there with his mouth agape, taking you in.

He hadn’t been prepared to see you, that much is clear - and especially not like this, dressed in his shirt, which you’ve obviously slept in, hair a little messy, skin bare of any makeup. It reminds him of those mornings in his bed, waking up before the rest of the house, your body bathed in the soft glow from the rising sun, trading sleepy kisses until you would sneak back off to your room.

It makes him yearn for that, again, and feelings like that need some kind of forewarning, otherwise they serve nothing but to make him ache.

“I said I’d drive him to an appointment,” Ellie says as she emerges from the kitchen, car keys in hand, “I though everyone had class this morning, you’re not gonna hand me in for having a guy in the house, are you?”

“I’m not a snitch,” you frown, tugging at the ends of his shirt, “I slept in, I didn’t think anyone else was here either.”

He didn’t exactly need the confirmation, considering your current state, but knowing you slept in his shirt makes the heat creep up his neck, his chest puffing as he really takes in the meaning of it.

So many things about you are screaming that you want nothing to do with him, but you’re sleeping in his old Michigan shirt, one you’d borrowed when your shoulders were burning out on a wakeboarding trip one day, he’s pretty sure - one he never even realised you kept.

“Do you need a ride?” She offers, stepping beside Luke, close enough that in order to look at Ellie, you pretty much have to look his way too, and every time you glance at him, he catches you. “We were gonna go get a drink before, so we’re heading your way anyway. Or you could come with, if you’re skipping."

“Uh, no,” you decline, without even thinking about it, Luke’s chest feeling a little tighter at just how quick you are to avoid being near him. “I’m gonna go to the library.”

“I could still drive you. I doubt you’d mind a detour, would you, Lukey?”

“No,” he breathes out, almost immediately, eyes staying on you. “I don’t mind.”

“It’s fine,” you offer Ellie a tight lipped smile, “I’ll walk.”

And that’s that - your figure retreating back up the stairs before Luke has anything to say about it, his shoulders slumping as Ellie offers a friendly pat to his back.

“C’mon then, I need to stop for gas, you’re paying.”

He follows Ellie out to the back of the house, where the girls usually park their cars off the street, and just as he’s climbing into Ellie’s Mini, he glances up to the one of the windows, just in time to catch the quick shift of a curtain.

“Don’t worry,” Ellie says as he adjusts the passenger seat, folding his long legs into the limited space, an assured smile sent his way before she starts up the car. “I’ve got a plan.”

“What happened to no more meddling?” He huffs as he buckled himself in.

“I can’t sit back and watch my best friend become boring trying to avoid you, Luke,” she sighs, “It’s borderline painful.” 

—

You don’t know when managing your social life became Ellie’s full time job - as if the two of you aren’t tumbling into the depths of your final year of school with very little direction or guidance - but you’re growing tired of it, quick.

First, it had been, you’re coming to the bar and I’m not taking no for an answer, except, she had taken no for an answer, she just relished in making you feel bad for it after.

Then it had been, I need your opinion on halloween costumes, and she had insisted you join her at the mall, but you had an appointment with the careers counsellor that you really couldn’t miss, and she had to settle with sending you photos, again adding incessant messages about how she wouldn’t let you turn down the next invitation out.

Never mind trying to avoid bumping into Luke during his extended stay, avoiding Ellie was becoming a real task - slipping out before she can corner you in the mornings and staying out most of the day.

She caught you off guard, the other day, though - inviting Luke around. Sure, you were supposed to be in class - would have been, if your alarm had gone off on time - but still, bringing him into your space was like crossing a line, breaking an unspoken rule.

She’s supposed to be on your side. She isn’t supposed to be bringing the guy who hurt you into your house and driving him around town like his personal assistant, all from the good of her heart.

She’s just trying to kiss up to Jack.

At least, you thought so, until she sent you a text later that day - a bunch of pictures of Luke in different suits, tailored perfectly to his lean figure, shirts that stretched taut across his broad shoulders and pants that clung perfectly to his hips, followed by the message, thoughts?

You had many, but none that you could possibly sent to her - only replying with a question mark until she apologised, claiming they were meant for Jack’s approval.

It became clear then, what she was doing - flaunting him in front of you until you burst at the seams, like one of those jackets looked like it was going to do in a few of the pictures from the back of Luke in the tailor shop. Sending you those had been no accident.

And that’s why you were sceptical when the weekend rolled around, and she was begging and pleading for you to go with her to a party at the hockey house - promising you that he was finally heading back to Jersey, and definitely wasn’t going to be around.

She’d buttered you up with groans of, I feel like I never see you anymore, and, school is stressing me out, already, I just want to let loose with my best friend!

And it was the promise that she’d let you wear a skirt you’ve been eyeing in her closet for the past two years that sealed the deal - a vintage Diesel mini that she had thrifted and guarded like her whole life depended on it. 

You can’t help it, anyway - it’s been so long since you’ve been out like that - probably summer being the last time - and you need to let loose too.

And that’s how you end up walking hand in hand through the front door, Ellie having styled your hair, the two of you looking like a million dollars, and it’s the first time in months that you aren’t disturbed by the feeling of eyes on you.

You kind of feel like your old self - confident, self-assured, like there isn’t a soul on earth who could possibly make you doubt yourself.

You wish the universe gave you at least five minutes to sit with that feeling before you saw him. 

Before you saw Luke, sling-free, bottle in hand, leaning against the wall, talking to Victoria Anderson, a girl you know he has history with - a girl you have history with, yourself.

You hate how quick the switch within you flips - the slight slump of your posture, the tension in your jaw, all your self-worth seeping from your pores like your body is actively trying to kill it.

Your hand slips from Ellie’s, immediately heading in the opposite direction to where Luke is - making a bee-line straight for the kitchen, straight for a drink.

Ellie is hot on your heels, grasping at your arm to keep up, “I’m sorry,” she calls after you.

“You said he wouldn’t be here,” you grumble, shoving through the swinging door and heading straight for the line of bottles on the counter. 

“What am I, his keeper?” She scoffs, trying to play it off as a lighthearted joke, but you can see it in her eyes that she knew. “I don’t know where he’s gonna be at all hours of the day.”

“You said he was going back to Jersey.”

“Yeah, well, I must have got my days mixed up!”

“Yeah, right,” you scoff, pouring out a shot from the first bottle you find without even reading the label, and throwing it back before you can think twice. You pour yourself a proper drink, after - a vodka with diet coke - and sip at it just to cool your nerves, trying to calm yourself down.

You don’t want to be mad at Ellie - whatever she’s doing, she’s doing it because she cares - but you’re so tired of overthinking this whole thing. All you want is a break from it all, and no one is willing to give you one.

“I’m gonna go find Ethan,” you tell her, figuring you can kill two birds with one stone - ask him about the class you missed the other morning, and avoid speaking to Luke, “If you want to make this up to me, I need you to tell Luke to steer clear, okay?”

“Fine,” she scowls, rolling her eyes as she has to pour her own drink.

You storm off back toward the door, and just as you get close, it swings open, the edge of it knocking straight into you - into the hand holding your freshly poured drink, which is now dripping down your front.

Your whole body tenses at the sensation of the liquid seeping through your shirt, only momentarily thankful that you hadn’t added ice before you remember the coke - remember the vintage skirt, with the light denim wash.

You hear Ellie groan from behind you, and you squeeze your eyes shut in the hopes that you’ll magically gain some sort of time travelling superpower - a rewind button, like Click.

“Are you okay?”

Of course it had to be him, you think - because you’ve somehow unsettled the entire balance of the universe, and this is how it’s decided to repay you, your eyes opening to find those concerned, grey-green eyes peering back at you. 

He takes the empty cup that’s being squished in your grip and tosses it into a trash can to the side before you feel a hesitant hand on your side, watching as he surveys the damage.

“And here I thought that skirt couldn’t get uglier.”

Victoria’s piercing blue eyes gleam back at you, a sinister smirk plastered on her lips, and you’re lunging before you even know it until a strong arm curls around your waist, the heat of his skin slipping straight into the gap between your skirt and t-shirt, and sending a shiver straight down the spine that’s now pressed to his front.

“Hey, c’mon,” he warns, pulling you back with enough force that there’s a good couple of feet between you and Victoria now, and her eyes narrow at all the points he’s touching you. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

You think you only let him guide you away to piss her off - and it isn’t until he’s ushering you into the small downstairs bathroom and closing the door behind him that you realise how little consideration you put into that.

You watch as Luke retrieves a towel from the small cupboard by the door, forgetting he probably still knows this place like the back of his hand, and starts to work at the front of your t-shirt before you snatch it away.

“I’ve got it, thanks.” You snap, entirely frustrated with the whole situation than you think you are with him, a small swirling of guilt immediately bubbling up inside you. 

You dab at the skirt, first, hoping there’s some way that it’s salvageable, or Ellie’s going to murder you. You lean against the counter by the sink, and glance down at the damage. It looks just like a water stain, for now, unfortunately placed, but you won’t know for sure until it dries, and dabbing at it with a towel isn’t really going to fix that.

“Did she hurt your hand?” Luke asks, low voice breaking the silence you were starting to cherish, and it’s only then that you realise where the door hit you. Your knuckles ache a little, but you can still flex your fingers, so you figure they’ll just be bruised tomorrow.

You do wish you could have bruised them another way - maybe with a fist to Victoria Anderson’s smug grin - but you’re supposed to be a pacifist, so maybe not. If anyone’s going to break that pattern, it would be her - your rival in every way ever since you came to Michigan. Academically, in all the same classes, socially, in opposing sororities, and even romantically, with her somehow always looking out for the same guys.

She’d even been at one of the parties back at the lake house, with her hands all over Luke - you remember hearing her shrill laugh and feeling like someone had just drug their nails down a chalkboard, all semblance of peace instantly lost. 

You’re brought out of whatever fiery daydream even her name elicits with the touch of Luke’s fingers to yours, the soft brush of his thumb over your knuckles as he checks for any real damage.

“I’m fine,” you croak out, dazed a little by the feeling before you tear your hand away, “It was just a knock.”

“You want me to kick her ass?”

You blame the shot you took for the way you snort out a laugh - caught by surprise and unable to even consider the reaction, slipping straight back into your unguarded self around him - like the walls you’ve tried so hard to rebuild just dissolved. Not even a knock or a tumble of bricks, just them fading into nothing like magic.

Luke smiles back, soft and hesitant, like he’s waiting for you to fade away, too.

And then there’s that silence you thought you wanted - heavy and tense, and it’s too much for you to handle, so you slip past him, wordlessly, and head straight back to the door. 

And just as your fingers grasp at the handle and you prepare yourself to pull, a large hand lays flat on the surface beside you, trapped by a warm chest closing in on your back.

It’s quiet for a minute, the dull thump of the bass from the music somewhere else in the house now distant and fading, and the room feels charged way beyond the atmosphere of the party you’ve been away from a little too long.

You see the bend in his elbow before you feel his breath on the back of your neck, and you can feel the distance closing - an inch or two now, so close that you have to stay vigilant not to take even the slightest step back.

“Luke,” you breathe, your throat stinging in preparation for some sort of hurt, and your lip trembling until you start to chew on it.

“Just one more minute.”

“You have to let me go.”

“Please, I just want to talk.”

You turn, slowly,  and you don’t know why you do it to yourself, because it’s inevitable you’ll fall prey to the pleading look in his eyes. Your back falls against the door, and you’re craning your neck to look up at him, blinking slow as his eyes flicker between your own.

Every passing second feels like a minute, and just as you’re about to give in - to tell him to go ahead and talk, the door vibrates behind you, a fist banging into the other side.

“Please tell me the skirt is okay!”

You press a hand flat to his chest and push, wedging some much needed space between the two of you - enough that you can swing the door open and face Ellie, and save yourself from plunging into whatever rabbit hole that would have taken you down.

“I won’t know until it’s dry, but if it’s bad, we’ll take it to the cleaners, okay?”

“Ugh,” Ellie groans, grabbing you by the hand and dragging you back to the kitchen for another drink, “I’m so running her ass over the next time I see her on the street.”

You look back at Luke, still stood in the doorway, watching the whole way until you disappear around the corner, and it’s only when you can’t see him anymore that your heart rate returns to an acceptable speed.

You successfully manage to avoid Luke for a good couple of hours, almost forgetting him, miraculously, despite being in a house filled with his closest friends. There’s even a point where you think he might have left, until you stumble out into the backyard to a group setting up a small fire to keep warm.

You’re too buzzed to comment on the legality of it, so far gone that the thought of campus police coming around barely even crosses your mind, and you throw yourself down into one of the camp chairs with a drink in hand as the group discuss how to pass the time.

You can’t remember who suggests Never Have I Ever, too distracted by the figure settling down on the opposite side of the fire, long limps stretching almost comically out of the small chair, meeting your eyes for a moment before you look away at the arrival of Nick, who comes with cards in hand. 

You’d usually make some sort of comment about how juvenile it is, but there’s this part of you that’s probably trying to cling a little to that, lately, so you let it pass, leaning almost sleepily back into your chair as it kicks off.

The game is pretty tame compared to other times you’ve played it, stuff like, never have I ever crashed a car, and, never have I ever broken a bone, coming from the top of the deck, and there’s only a few complaints about it needing more spice before it gets to Ellie’s turn to pick, a few people down from you. 

“Never have I ever,” Ellie drags out before picking a card, flipping between her manicured fingers and smiling slowly as she reads the rest, “Been in love,” she coos, turning it to show the rest of the group with a love-struck grin.

A chorus of groans sing out from around the circle, Luca reaching to swipe the card from Ellie as she takes a big chug from her red cup. “That’s so lame,” he huffs, “Pick another, this isn’t the Ellie show. We get it, you're happy, doesn't mean the rest of us should suffer.”

You glance down at your empty cup as the two of them start to argue about the rules of the game, Ellie grumbling how she didn’t write the cards, and Luca retorting with how she could have at least gone off-script to make it a little more interesting.

If you had any semblance of your inhibitions, any control of your reactions, your gaze would have stayed on the last few drops swirling around the base of your drink. Your eyes wouldn’t have trailed up slowly, past the dancing flames of the makeshift-campfire, and fallen onto another cup at the opposite side of the circle.

It wouldn’t have watched intently as long, slender fingers raised to bring said cup up, pressing to parted lips, the contents gulped down as you stare at the movement of his throat around the liquid.

When you dare to look higher, you find him already staring back at you, piercing green eyes burning hotter than the fire between you, and your own throat goes dry as you watch. 

And of course he makes a show of it, squaring his shoulders and swiping a thumb across his bottom lip to make sure there's no residue. No evidence of all that he had just admitted to. Nothing but the memory of it burned already into the back of your retinas, lingering like an ache all the way down your spine.

No one else seems to notice - but you suppose that’s just how things go between you and Luke. One more secret to add to the ever-growing pile.

Your hand trembles as if it wants to copy him, but you’re thankful for the last shred of dignity you have that tells you that even if you wanted to drink - even if you could play it off as assuming the question had been vetoed, and you were just quenching your thirst in the brief break in the game - there’s nothing left. Even if you wanted to drink - which you brain is so loudly telling you that you don’t - you can’t.

And when Luke’s gaze shifts, lowers painstakingly slow as everything else fades to background noise around the two of you, you don’t know why you find yourself tilting your cup when his eyes land on it, making a show of just how empty it is.

“You’re not gonna drink?” Ethan frowns from beside you, a nudge of his elbow knocking at yours and bringing you back down to earth with a painful splat.

Why would he assume that?

“What?” You ask, frowning as you meet his chocolate brown eyes, the reflection of the flames basking them in a warm, melting glow. 

“He said never have I ever been kicked out of a bar,” he chuckles, quirking a brow as your face morphs from one of confusion to one of recollection. “I know for a fact you have.”

“Oh, right,” you laugh, nervously, the reaction coming out more like a stuttered breath as the panic swirling in your chest dissipates just the slightest. “I’m running on empty. I’m gonna go get a refill.”

Ethan nods as he shuffles a little to let you out of the circle, watching with narrowed eyes as you lift yourself from the chair and edge your way out of the group and back towards the house.

The kitchen is thankfully empty when you get back inside, sliding the door shut behind you to block out the noise, your thoughts overbearing enough without still being able to hear everyone yelling out in the yard.

You move almost on autopilot, heading for the row of bottles on the counter and reaching straight for the vodka you’ve been mixing with diet coke all night.

You pour out a measured shot first, swirl it in the cup before lifting the it straight to your lips, leaving little room to think much more about it, and throwing your head back.

The liquid burns the whole way down - all the way from the back of your mouth, past your aching chest, and into the pit of your stomach, pooling there in a nauseating bubble of heat and regret - and you don’t know entirely if the need to drink was just to quench your thirst, to alleviate the warmth spiking up your neck, to quell the rampant beating of your heart, or to play along with the game. With Luke’s game.

Maybe some mysteries are better left unsolved. 

He wasn’t in love with you.

You think you’d know. He would have told you - he’s hardly shy about voicing his opinion, you learned that the hard way. 

He’s just being cruel, now, you’ve convinced yourself - probably payback for earlier, for leaving him in the bathroom and telling him to let you go. One final act of defiance, because he has to have the last word.

God, why would you even play along?

You shouldn’t have even looked his way - should have kept your eyes down, then you wouldn’t still be feeling like your whole body is on fire. 

Your eyes dart up at the sound of the screen door opening, and your heart thuds in your chest at the sight of who walks through.

You hold your breath as he slowly makes his way toward you - cautious steps carrying him toward the counter where you stand, and he places his empty cup on the surface beside yours, 

“You can’t avoid me forever.”

“I don’t have to avoid you forever,” you shrug, circling around him and trying not to let him trap you again, “I just have to avoid you until you go home.”

“I don’t want to go home without us talking,” he grasps at your wrist before you can fully get past him, levelling you with a tired look, one that says he’s resigned to his fate, but he can’t rest until he tries one last time. “Please.”

“Luke,” you groan, the remnants of intoxication slowly fading into exhaustion. 

“Just one conversation.” He begs, “Then you can be done with me, I’ll leave you alone.”

Your lips twist as you try not to give under the weight of his softened, pleading gaze. He’s persistent, you’ll give him that - and he’s technically surpassed the efforts you had made back before you left the house toward the end of summer, now almost 3 weeks since you had turned him down back at the football game. 

And do you really want him to leave you alone? You’re not entirely sure. Maybe talking to him can help you finally figure that out. 

“Fine.” You acquiesce. “One conversation.”

“You want me to walk you home?” He asks, his voice soft and low, a tilt to his head that makes his curls shuffle and a caring glint in his eye that makes your legs feel like jelly. It’s probably for the best if he does, you think, you’re at a serious fall-risk now. Tired and buzzed, a lethal combination.

You nod, wordlessly, watching as he seemingly tries to fight a small smile, straightening up to swipe your cup, stacking it with his own and throwing it in the trash. 

“C’mon, I already gave Ellie a heads up, I’ll come back for her.”

You soften a little at the thought of him considering her - even if it isn’t about you. If it’s on Jack’s behalf, and he’s just being a good brother, him looking out for your best friend is still sweet.

You let him guide you out of the house, and it’s quiet in a way you can’t stand, walking side by side down the otherwise empty street.

“You’re out of your sling, then?” You don’t know why you feel better to make small talk - but waiting with bated breath for him to say what he’s been trying to for so long now makes your heart pound almost painfully against your ribcage. 

“Yeah,” he flexes his arm a little, as if to prove a point. “I’m back in Jersey at the end of the week, will probably be doing no contact training for a while.”

“How long until you’re playing again?”

“They’re saying it’s looking like November,” he tells you, “Which sucks, but at least I don’t need surgery like Jack.”

“Do you miss it?” You ask, conscious of the way your steps are slowly turning toward his and trying to straighten yourself up. “Being back in New Jersey with your team, with Jack?”

“Jack doesn’t give anybody a chance to miss him, you should know that by now.” He grumbles, "In my texts 24/7 like it’s his second job.”

“Ellie’s too,” you tell him in a breathy chuckle, crossing your arms over your torso just to keep your hands busy with something as he shoves his back in the pockets of his jeans. “I don’t know where he finds the time,”

“He doesn’t need time, he’s annoying to his very core.” Luke scoffs, “I do miss the guys though, but there’s a couple group chats. And I’d probably miss the guys here if I was back there.”

“So either way you’re missing somebody?”

He gives an affirmative hum, kicking a rock down the side of the curb, figuring you don’t quite realise just how true that question rings to him. The sorority house is at the end of the path, now - closer than either of you really anticipated, and you almost start to panic, like the walls are closing in on you, like you’re running out of time.

“Listen-,”

“Look-,”

You both stop in the middle of the sidewalk, looking at each other wide eyed until you press your lips together, and gesture for him to carry on.

“I miss you,” he says, plain and simple, like it’s all he can muster up - and if you’re honest, it’s all you want to hear, an acknowledgement that without you in his life, there’s this gaping hole that no one else can fill. “I know that if I want to fix things between us, that I should give you this huge speech about how much I fucked things up, and that I should have trusted you, and listened to you when you tried to talk to me, and I do think all those things. I know those things, but I’ve been trying to figure out how to say them without it sounding like some bullshit excuse, and I figure I just need to be honest with you.

“I feel like the whole time we were together, I was waiting for the other shoe to drop, you know, like I could never just be in the moment with you because I felt like it was gonna end. And I think maybe you were doing the same.”

It’s crazy, you think, how well he knows you.

“And neither of us were ever gonna be ready to be anything more, because we weren’t even acknowledging that this thing between us probably wasn’t healthy.”

You’re quite thankful for the sting in the back of your throat, because you don’t know what you’d say to that, if you could speak.

It hurts to hear it, but he’s right. 

“I just wanted to believe it was a good thing for as long as you’d let me, and when you said you’d have dated Cole, and that you’d have thrown it all away, and I just left without a fight, I-,” he blinks, like he’s trying to rid himself of the tears welling in the corners of his eyes, like he doesn’t want to give in and let them shed. “I don’t know, I thought it was best to avoid you all together than watch you put that final nail in the coffin, or whatever.”

“You know I never went out with Cole, right?”

“I know. He told me before he left for training camp. The day you left. Almost considered running after you to apologise for being such a dick. Even thought about flagging you down in departures at Wayne County.”

You let that thought sit for a moment - Luke chasing you down like something out of one of the romantic comedies you would watch together - like the angsty movies you watched after you went home, laying on your bed and wishing the two of you could have had a happy ending. 

“Probably for the best you didn’t chase me through the airport,” you tell him with a wistful smile, “declarations of love freak me out,”

“I thought they might.” He chuckles, breathily, his heart not entirely in it.

“I also took the greyhound.”

“You know serial killers get those things, right.”

“You watch too many movies.”

His eyes flicker to yours, then, knowing and amused - like a new inside joke has cemented itself into your dynamic. 

“I don’t want to be nothing with you.”

It’s a weird statement, almost nonsensical, but you get it.

It’s what you’ve been trying for ever since you left Michigan, after all, and especially after you returned.

You let the thought settle for a moment, your lips twisting and your eyes tearing up as you watch him wait for a response.

“You really hurt me, Luke.” Your voice trembles as you say it, and you think you’re only part spurred on by liquid courage, the rest of it probably the incessant need to open up to somebody.

“I know,” he practically whispers back, choked up as much as you are. 

“I don’t think I can do that again.”

He nods, pressing his tongue to the side of his cheek like he’s trying not to press you on it, stepping back ever so slightly and huffing out a deep breath.

You almost think he might retreat, entirely - accepting your reluctance this final time and letting you go, just like you’d asked, earlier.

“What about if it’s not,” he shakes his head, sighing as he tries to think of the best way to say it, “What if it’s not romantic, between us?”

“You really think we could be friends?”

“You don’t?” He asks, wincing a little like the thought of anything else is painful.

“We’re hardly gonna see each other,” you tell him, “Is there really any point in keeping it up?”

“I’d like to try.”

You don’t know what concept hurts you the most, the thought of trying and failing, or not trying at all. Either way, you lose him.

You wish, for a moment, you were in any way good at math - that you could work out the statistic for the other option, the one where it actually works.

The option where neither of you get hurt, and you get to keep him.

You imagine that it’s slim.

“I don’t know, Luke,” you sigh, unable to shake the heaviness of your doubt, “It feels like we’re just stretching out the inevitable, here.”

“I don’t think so,” he fights back, taking that step forward that he just took back, “Just friends, it doesn’t have to be anything more than that. Hell, if you want to build up to friends, I’ll take that, too. Just not nothing. I miss you too much to be nothing.”

You miss him, too. You missed him the past 3 weeks while he’s been in town, and the two of you have somehow managed to avoid seeing each other for the most part. You missed him for the month you were back at your mom’s house. You missed him those ten days over in the lake house, when he was still technically right in front of you the whole time.

“Can I think about it?”

“Yeah!” He nods, eagerly, the slight etching of a smile spreading across his lips. “Yes, you can think about it.”

You nod back, then, hesitant and before you can do something stupid, like wrap your arms around him as a goodbye, you step away.

You bid him goodnight, offering a thank you for walking you home, and you retreat into the safety of the house, watching through the window by the front door until he disappears back down the street. 

The start of your semester passes in a chaotic blur, and you very quickly, and very frantically, find yourself panicking a little about the what’s-next of it all.

With the last few months of your headspace occupied entirely by a certain brunette, you realise quickly that you really need to knuckle down and figure out what you’re going to do with yourself once school is over.

And that’s what brings you to New York City in the middle of October - one of your very few prospects for the aftermath of your college career discussed over iced teas in Midtown, Manhattan, before you’re crossing state lines through the Holland Tunnel and scrambling to get ready in the hotel room you and Ellie had booked.

You don’t know how you managed to hide all of your efforts behind a veil of secrecy, but Ellie had been all too distracted by you agreeing to accompany her to Jack’s team halloween party in Jersey City, and so she had little brain power left to question where you disappeared off to, or why you’d possibly have any sort of appointment anywhere near here as soon as you told her she could pick up a costume for you.

You should have known it would be something ridiculous, evidenced by the poofy yellow dress and cartoonish crown she had left on your bed for you to change into. 

When you emerge from the bathroom, fully dressed, she’s stood in her Princess Peach costume - the colour palette a lot more complementary to her than the yellow is to you, but you can hardly fight her on it now - especially knowing Jack is out there somewhere dressed as Mario.

You don’t know how it slips your mind that he and Luke play for the same team, or that they’re brothers, or that he could possibly at the same party, dressed as Luigi. Not until you and Ellie are walking into the party a little after it starts, and you meet his eye for the first time in a couple of weeks, your mouth falling agape as you realise just what Ellie has done.

You don’t even have a second to call her out before she’s prancing off to some far side of the room with Jack, all over him after their own extended time apart, and you literally have no option but to sidle up to Luke, tail between your legs, cringing at the entire situation as you stand beside him in a room full of his peers after you had only just shut him down not long ago.

Thankfully, it’s Luke - and he would rather choke than make you feel uncomfortable about it.

He offers an easy smile, amused, even, as he greets you from the tall table he’s occupying, handing you the beer he just opened for himself and reaching for another from the table behind him. 

“I don’t even know why I agreed to come with them, I knew they’d just split and make out in the corner,” you roll your eyes, taking a swig from the bottle and grimacing a little at the taste. “I don’t even know anybody.”

“You know me,” he shrugs, “I don’t mind keeping you company.”

“Yeah right,” you scoff, “You literally just came back, the last thing you need is to be lumped in a corner with me all night when you’ve hardly seen your teammates for months. I’m just gonna duck out in a little bit, no one will care.”

“I’ll care,” he chuckles lightheartedly, the ease in which the statement slips out and the certainty in which you feel it sends a slight shiver down your spine. “I’ve been back in training for a week, trust me, I’ve already had enough.”

You sigh, trying to ignore the convincing look he’s giving you - head titled, a lopsided smile and eyes filled with hope.

It was only just under two weeks ago that you told him you didn’t want to be friends, so you can’t really understand why he’s so intent on you sticking around. He should be personally ordering you an Uber back to your hotel and pushing you out of the door, but he’s giving you this pleading pout now that’s making you think his night would fall to pieces if you left so soon.

The thing is, you’re not that great around people you don’t know, not lately, anyway - especially not when those people are all big, bulky high performance athletes (and Jack) and their drop dead gorgeous partners. You feel like an intruder, like you don’t belong, and you can’t imagine anything happening to change your mind.

“I still feel like such an outsider at these things,” Luke huffs, elbows resting on the tall table in front of you, his body leaning onto it in the absence of any stools nearby until he’s more around your height. “This is the first time Jack’s brought anybody with him so I can’t exactly stick to his side like normal.”

You frown.

Is he serious?

Luke has never been the type to stick to his brother’s side - not from what you’ve seen, anyway, and you’d pretty much spent your entire summer observing the guy - you’re way past the point of trying to deny that, now.

“Isn’t that Seamus over there?” You point to the opposite side of the room, where you’re pretty sure you recognise another of yours and Luke’s previous classmates. “Aren’t you two friends?”

“We got into a pretty heated discussion during Thursday Night Football the other night, we’re on a break.”

You almost forgot how quick Luke can be, the slight quiver in the corner of his mouth giving away his attempts at deception, but you’re hardly in any position to call him out on it.

He’s trying to do you a favour, after all.

“In fact, I need you to stay for my protection. He might be out for my neck, you can’t let me die in a Luigi costume, that would be cruel.”

You snort as you take him in in his entirety, from the ridiculous hat, to the stretched out one-piece outfit topped off with a pair of white sneakers.

“Speaking of, aren’t you supposed to have a moustache?”

“It’s in my pocket, didn’t want to make Jack feel bad, ‘cause he can’t grow one and all,” he mutters, reaching into the front of the outfit to retrieve the stick-on prop, the back still taped up and in-tact. 

“Right,” you scoff, taking it from his hand and peeling the tape, “Jack can’t grow facial hair.”

You reach forward and press it to his upper lip, holding it in place until it sticks, careful not to actually touch his mouth in the process.

“I can grow it,” he rolls his eyes, “I just don’t suit it.”

“I don’t know,” you shrug as you pull back, admiring the results and trying not to laugh, “I’d say you suit it just fine.”

You reach into the pocket of your own dress to retrieve your phone, and snap a picture just to show him, pressing your lips together as you see his eyes widen in horror.

“Delete that,” he huffs, and you just about manage to stop him before he rips the thing off.

“No,” you whine, “Keep it on, it’s funny!”

“I don’t want to look funny, I want to look cool and hot.” He huffs, frowning when he seemingly realises how ridiculous that sounds.

“Halloween costumes aren’t supposed to be hot.”

“Easy for you to say, Princess,” he gestures down to your dress, and you once again have a visceral reaction to how natural it is for him to say things like that. You feel your ears going warm, and you break eye contact just so that he doesn’t see straight through you.

“I meant to say, sorry about this,” you gesture down, too, all of a sudden feeling every fibre of the costume that’s covering your skin, “I don’t know why I didn’t connect the dots sooner when Ellie said she and Jack were doing Mario and Peach. She just said she’d get me a costume, I didn’t think that we’d be-,”

“A couple?” 

“Yeah.”

“It’s no big deal,” Luke shrugs, sipping at his drink with a nonchalant frown. “S’just a costume. Besides, what else could you have been? I don’t think they sell sexy Goomba outfits.”

“Please,” you scoff, swatting lightly at the blue overalls stretched across his chest. “Don’t be ridiculous, if anything, I’d be sexy Toad.”

“Hmm,” he considers, with a long glance down your figure. “That might have actually worked.”

You feel the heat creep back up your neck before you can regulate yourself, not concealed at all by the sweetheart neckline of your dress, or the way Luke’s eye linger on any exposed bit of skin.

You press your lips together and divert your attention to Jack and Ellie in the corner, feeling every extended inch of Luke’s presence beside you, your heart thumping at the mere proximity of him, and you start to chew on your bottom lip. 

“Can’t believe we tried so hard to get them together,” you mumble, watching as they start to kiss, “They’re disgusting.”

“Absolutely revolting,” he agrees, “We were out of our minds all summer.”

You know he’s referring to the scheme you two kept up, you’re the one who even brought the topic into conversation, but you can’t help the instinctive way your chest starts to ache again at the mere mention of summer.

The two of you had talked about this, back in Ann Arbor, before he had come back to Jersey. You’re supposed to be over it, but it doesn’t make it hurt any less. You swallow thickly before reaching for your drink and chugging down the contents, avoiding his gaze as he watches you.

The thought of leaving crosses your mind again, but there’s a larger part of you that has missed this - missed him, maybe - a little too much, and those weeks back in Michigan last month had only served to weaken your resolve.

Keeping your distance had been a giant failure from the second you started to attempt it, and Luke is persistent - that much has always been obvious - so denying him any sort of contact is just pointless, now.

You had thought, back when he had dropped you off at the house the other week, that turning down his offer of friendship had been the right thing to do. You’d told him you would think about it, but it was always going to end up in rejection.

He’s in Jersey, you’re in Michigan. He has a really hectic schedule and career, and you’re supposed to be putting your head down and studying for your final year.

He broke your heart, and you broke his right back.

But you realise that you were naive to think that your paths would hardly cross.

Your best friend is dating his brother. You have so many mutual friends that you can hardly avoid him when he’s back in town. And beyond all that, you miss the versions of the two of you that just got on - before it all got messy in the summer. 

The banter, the inside jokes, the deep understanding of how each other worked.

And you had regretted it since - turning his offer down. 

Bringing it back up again is daunting, though. Opening yourself up to him, to say that you’d been thinking about him this whole time, and feel a deep, ever growing pit in your stomach now at the thought of being nothing, just like he had said he felt.

“Listen,” you start, with all intentions of figuring it out as you go along, only now feeling a serious urge to fix things, somehow, before you go back home, tomorrow, “I-,”

“Hold on, I gotta introduce you to someone. Hey, Pesce,” he calls out to his ever so-slightly taller teammate as he passes nearby, waving him to stop by the table the two of you are at before he walks away. He introduces you both by name, and you don’t miss the silent interaction between the two of them as he does, wide eyes and wiggling brows, a telepathic taunt from Brett and a wordless warning from Luke. “She’s my friend from back in Michigan, and he’s been my rehab buddy.”

You allow yourself to be distracted by that - not Ellie’s friend. His. Not a plus one of a plus one, or an outsider hovering around the edges of a private party. Someone he wants his teammates to know.

You like it more than you ever thought you would.

You feel your lips turning up into a natural smile, and a weight lifting off your shoulders - 7 words erasing the need for an entire conversation, already.

You probably could have told him to go fuck himself and that you hated his guts back on the street outside your sorority, and he’d still be out here calling you his friend.

Persistent.

“It’s nice to meet you,” you tell Brett, reaching out to shake his hand, matching his firm grip and meeting his steely gaze. 

“You too,” he smiles back, “I’ve heard-,”

“Lukey! Finally got a girl to notice you, huh?”

Another of Luke’s teammates approaches the table, and the absolute comedy of being introduced to a bunch of people in ridiculous costumes isn’t lost on you as he comes closer, a gigantic, teasing smirk almost overshadowed by a glaring red headpiece he wears.

“Nice to see ya, Curtis,” you watch as Luke embraces his other teammate, a wry, crooked grin on his face as he rolls his eyes fondly, and you try to ignore the weight of Brett’s discerning gaze on you. When he introduces you this time, Curtis shows no sign of recognition at your name, offering you a kind smile and extending his hand for you to shake. 

“Not talking your head off, is he? We’ve tried to train it out of him, but he’s a stubborn thing,” he chuckles, ruffling Luke’s hair like he’s petting an excitable puppy. 

“I’m used to it by now,” you shrug back, smiling when Luke scoffs, returning to your side.

“Nice costume,” Curtis looks Luke up and down, and it’s like you can see him trying to formulate a joke in his head, your lips twisting as you notice Luke anticipating the same, watching with a raised brow and a bored roll of his eyes. “That might be the closest we ever come to seeing you with facial hair.”

“Big talk coming from a dude dressed as shrimp.”

“I’m obviously a lobster, Luke.” 

“Obviously,” Luke mimics back like a child, his face sour and his lips pouted as his older teammate just laughs in his face. 

“C’mon, man,” Brett claps a hand on Curtis’ back, “Enough bruising the kid’s ego, you owe me a drink, remember?”

He knocks his free fist against Luke’s as he passes, offering you a wink and a nice to meet you before he’s guiding Curtis over to the bar and leaving the two of you alone, once more. 

“Sorry about them,” Luke mutters, “I could save them both from a burning building and they’d still treat me like their annoying baby brother.”

“It’s cute,” you shrug, sipping at your drink and catching his eye as they narrow toward you, clearly taking further offence at your choice of adjective. “They do it ‘cause they love you, Luke, it’s sweet.”

You try not to react to what you’ve just said - try not to think of that sentiment in the context of your own interactions with Luke, lightheartedly poking fun at him just to get a reaction because he can be so gut-wrenchingly adorable. 

It’s not the same.

But you can tell he’s thinking it too, looking at you with eyes that see straight through you, and a tilt to his head that’s almost mocking. 

“I uhm,” he sighs, stepping back a little closer to you and leaning down on the table so that he has to look up to meet your eye, “I told Pesch about you. About us.”

You blink back at him, waiting for him to say more - not really knowing how to respond, because you kind of had a feeling anyway. Brett has the worst poker face you’ve ever seen in your life. 

“It’s just been me and him training together, and we were getting to know each other, and you know how it is, he asked me about how I spent my summer, and about girls, and there’s just you for both, so it sorta just came out. Plus, I kinda felt like I had to talk about it with someone or I was gonna go crazy.” 

You look down, giving a slight nod of understanding - because you do get it. 

Also, the confirmation of something you’ve been wondering is kind of a relief. He hadn’t started anything with anyone else after you left, or back in Michigan, when you were making everything so hard on him.

There’s just him for you, too.

And it’s really hard, having one person consume your thoughts in such a way when you have no outlet to properly talk it through with anyone.

You never felt like you could talk to Ellie about any of it, and having all these feelings fizzing up inside you for so long is starting to make you feel like a volcano on the brink of eruption. 

Luke had done the sensible thing, finding an unaffiliated third party and seeking advice from someone with no bias. No scathing comments from his brothers, judgement from any of the guys back in Michigan or pitiful looks from your best friend.

“I didn’t say anything bad,” he assures you, “Not that there is anything bad, I promise I don’t think poorly of you or anything, and I wouldn’t go around telling random people if I did, especially not my teammates, I don’t want you to think-,”

“Luke, it’s fine,” you place a hand on his forearm, his eyes snapping up to meet yours at the slightest touch, wide and alarmed, like he feels like he’s digging himself into a hole. “I get it. Sometimes I feel like I’m gonna go crazy, too.”

“You do?” He frowns, like that was the last thing he expected you to say. 

You had told him you were hurt, so it can’t come as that much of a surprise that you feel some type of way about everything that went down between the two of you.

You’re not that heartless.

“What did you say to him?” You ask, hoping to engage with his incessant need to talk, rather than any attempt to eke information out of you. “About us?”

“Just that I didn’t like how we left things,” he tells you as you lean beside him, “It’s hard, not knowing where we stand, or what it’s gonna be like when I see you again. I still get the urge all the time to text you, even about stupid things. Someone was telling me about this Matthew McConaughey movie the other day, and I thought of you. Wanted to ask if you’d seen it.”

“It’s probably safe to assume I’ve seen all the Matthew McConaughey films. Even the bad ones.”

“It wasn’t on your Letterboxd.”

You swat at his bicep, your lips turning slowly into a grin as you can’t help but laugh at how little he cares about hiding his intentions.

You’d caught onto him monitoring your account somewhere between him coincidentally watching Notting Hill a couple days after you did while he was back in Michigan, the five star rating he gave to Call Me By Your Name, and him somehow knowing all the most obscure but gut-wrenching quotes from all the movies that really tore your heart out - writing them in his reviews like he was talking to you in some secret language that only the two of you spoke.

I think I’d miss you even if we never met, from The Wedding Date. 

I’ll do anything to make you happy. Tell me what you want me to do and I’ll do it, from Past Lives.

There will be a piece of you in me always, from Her.

All movies you had listed after going home from the lake house - had laid in bed with teary eyes and trembling lips for the most part, and associated all those same quotes with him, too. And even without you putting them in your own reviews, he just knew every time which part of the movie made you think of your relationship.

You’d even tried baiting him out with Barbie, the other week, snorting to yourself despite your heartache when you imagined him seriously typing out, I only exist within the warmth of your gaze, without it, I'm just a little blonde guy who can't do flips, and hoping you would see it.

If anyone else had done it, it would probably have been corny. You’d have blocked them, the level of perception and lowkey invasion of privacy making your skin crawl - but Luke seeing you was different. Him being on the same wavelength - feeling the same feelings, thinking the same thoughts - was something you couldn’t ignore. 

“You’re not supposed to admit to cyber stalking me, you idiot.”

“What?” He chuckles, rubbing at his arm, “I missed watching movies with you.”

He shrugs at that like it’s nothing, but you can feel your cheeks go warm even if his don’t. You missed watching movies with him too - missed the long stretch of his legs far surpassing yours on top of the sheets, and the way he’d hold out candy for you to get some every few minutes. 

“Plus, you were stalking me, too. Why else would you be watching The Mighty Ducks on a Saturday night?” 

“I thought it might teach me about hockey.” You frown, although you’d been all too caught up with just how cute those movies were. You still know very little about the sport, but you can still appreciate the charm of a young Joshua Jackson.

Luke smiles, lopsided and gentle, but you know by now that’s his version of cocky - the kind of smile that shows you that something you’ve said has scratched at his ego, and he’s banking it somewhere in the back of his head.

“I can teach you,” he says, his voice an octave lower as he leans in - and you know he isn’t doing it on purpose, but it makes the hairs on the back of your arms raise, how he almost purrs over to you. “Can give you a crash course if you want?”

“Now?”

“Nah,” he sips at his drink, “Another time. Need an excuse to text you remember?”

“You can text me whenever,” you tell him, chewing at the corner of your bottom lip as he smirks at you, “Just so you know.”

You don’t tell him that you’ve been waiting for him to do it, anyway.

That for those first few days after he finally left Michigan, every buzz of your phone had your heart rate doubling. 

The first instant you had started to regret your decision, you had been hoping he would still try to change your mind.

You don’t tell him you started following a random team update account for news on how he was getting on with his injury, because he wasn’t letting you know, himself, or that you once spent an hour reporting people trolling him or talking smack in the comments just for something to do.

“What about FaceTime?”

“Don’t push your luck.”

To say you were planning on leaving as soon as you had arrived, you enjoyed yourself way more than you thought you would with Luke and his teammates - in fact, you’d probably go as far as to say it’s one of the best nights you’ve had since the summer.

Luke had introduced you to pretty much everybody, flitting around the room and making the rounds, and it had been nice to see how normal and nice everybody was - instantly making you felt like you belonged, to the point where you figured out that Luke had only said all that stuff about feeling like an outsider because he knew that was how you felt, knew it would tug at your heartstrings and make you stay.

You know from how close he is with the guys back in Michigan that Luke loves his teammates, but seeing it in action for the first time had been sweet. Seeing the other guys ruffling at his hair, play fighting, throwing their arms around him and indulging him in his corny jokes kind of made you feel less tense about the way you’re so instinctively affectionate with him. 

Even after what had happened toward the end of summer, and swearing off any sort of romantic connection since, you still want to touch him, still want to be near him, and while you don’t think his teammates exactly have those same thoughts, it makes you feel a little more normal, how much they all love him. Makes you feel less like you should be wedging all this distance between the two of you - because if they all love him like this, then why can’t you?

You don’t even realise that Ellie and Jack have long snuck off until you get a text to say not to come back to the hotel, and that Jack’s bed is freshly clean for you to sleep in. The thought of it is gross, but you figure that two athletes will have a comfy couch, so you’re not all that bothered in the end.

Plus, it gives you more time with Luke - to have a proper conversation, to figure things out. So, when it’s time to leave, and he ushers you out of the bar with a hand on the small of your back, you let him cross the boundaries of being nothing, and lean into his touch until you’re out in the cold, wrapping your arms around yourself as he shrugs off his jacket.

“Put this on,” he demands, throwing it to you and watching as you catch it with a clumsy grip, “We’re walking.”

“Walking?” You ask, stumbling to catch up with him as he starts to make his way down the street, his long strides making it incredibly difficult, especially in the stupid costume heels you’re wearing. You ease into his jacket as you move, shaking your arms until your fingers just about peak out of the ends, and relishing the warmth that encapsulates your body.

“Yeah, it’s 10 minutes. I know that sounds like a lifetime in campus terms, but I’m assuming you still know how to walk.”

You scoff as you pretty much jog to keep up, taking rushed, small steps until you just about make it to his side. “I don’t have a car, remember, I walk everywhere. I just assumed we’d be getting an Uber or something."

“S’good for you,” he shrugs, “Clears the mind. And it’s only a few blocks back to the apartment. I can show you all the best breakfast spots for you and Ellie to visit before you leave tomorrow.”

“But it’s dark out.”

“What, you’re scared of the dark, now?” He looks down at you from the corner of his eye, his height advantage meaning you can so clearly see the amused way in which his mouth curves up on the side closest to you. 

“I’m scared of being abducted in a back alley and brutally murdered so that my organs can be sold on the black market.”

“That happens more on the other side of the river,” he hooks a thumb in the general direction of what you assume is the Hudson, but it could be anywhere for all you know. This is your first time in New Jersey, and your brief expedition into Manhattan in the morning had done very little to clue you in on the lay of the land.

“Murder is an international issue, Luke, I don’t think they draw the line at what state they do it in, look it up.”

“You watch too much TV,” he chuckles, “Who’s gonna mess with you when I’m around? Look at me,” he gestures down to his ridiculous costume, “I’m the picture of intimidation. You don’t think I’d protect you from the black market organ thieves?”

“You’re dressed like an Italian plumber, you dork, and you’ve got arms like toothpicks, they’d probably kill you first just for fun.” You retort, grabbing at his arm to bring him back to your pace. You almost can’t believe that in the brief expanse of one evening, you could possibly have returned to this level of comfort, but you’re trying not to think too hard about it - especially with a mind partially loosened up by a couple of drinks. “Could you at least slow down? Your legs are like twice the length of mine.”

“Aw,” he pouts, “Do you want me to carry you?”

“Don’t joke, I’d pay good money for a piggy back right now.”

“Shame I’ve got such toothpick arms then, isn’t it?” he fakes an exaggerated smile, and you narrow your eyes until he drops it.

You huff as he carries on, thankful at the slightly slower pace he seems to have adopted, and the way his chin keeps jutting in your direction to check on how well you’re keeping up.

“What about a fireman’s carry?” You suggest, looking up at him with pleading eyes and pouted lips.

“The best you’ll get is me giving you my gloves to wear as socks and I’ll carry your shoes for you.”

“And if I step on glass, cut into a vein and bleed out?”

“I suppose then I’d carry you.”

This feels familiar.

Feels comfortable and right, and when you look back on those nights in September when you had seen him - at the football game, in the living room back at the sorority, and the party at the hockey house, this is what you’d felt like you had been missing.

It doesn’t have to be awkward, or charged, or tense between the two of you. 

Maybe it can be like this again.

Like it was in the beginning, before everything got messed up.

“I meant to ask earlier,” he nudges at you with his elbow, “Ellie said you had an appointment over in Midtown,”

“You’re such a stalker,” you snort, shaking your head with a wry smile as you glance over at him, “Literally the snoopiest guy I’ve ever met.”

“Snoopiest?” He scoffs, “It’s called curiosity. I can’t wonder what my friend did with their day, now? I’m snoopy?”

“There’s a masters programme at NYU,” your eyes dart down to the floor as you start to tell him, figuring that you’ll feel less nervous if it just feels like you’re speaking in general, instead of confiding in him. There’s also a part of you spurred on by his immediate adoption of you being his friend - still reeling from the ease in which he had been introducing you as such to everyone all night. Opening up to him is just as easy, and now that you’re embracing the dynamic, it’s like the pieces that form all the resistance within you are shifting out of place, creating a bunch of cracks for him to seep straight into. “One of my sorority sisters has a cousin who’s in her final year, she set up a meeting so that I could talk about my application.”

“You’re applying to NYU?” He asks, quickening his step until he is a little ahead of you, turning on his feet until he’s walking backwards, giving you no chance of ignoring his presence anymore. 

“I’m thinking about it,” you shrug, “It isn’t a done deal, so don’t tell anybody.”

“I can keep a secret,” he promises, and that same ache starts to form in your chest again, at just how well you know that to be true.

“Plus, it’s a long-shot, so even if I did apply, I probably wouldn’t get in, and I don’t want to get Ellie’s hopes up that I’ll be sticking around.”

You have a job lined up elsewhere already for when you graduate - an entry level role in a PR agency over in Chicago, close to home, close to your mom - but the more you’re considering it, the less sure you are. The job would be pretty much you getting taken advantage of for being a recent graduate, and furthering your education could help secure something bigger and better. But throwing away a sure thing seems stupid, and you don’t really want to do so if you don’t have something else secured.  

“Getting into the NHL is a long shot, and you’ve just spent the night in a room full of people who made it happen,” Luke tells you, ducking his head a little lower until you look him in the eye, “Don’t underestimate yourself, you’re really smart, you’ll get in if you do end up applying.”

The way he says it is so sure - so different to anybody else, who you feel like is just saying it to make you feel better. Luke believes it, you can see it in the way he looks at you, confident and certain of your abilities more than you’ve ever been in yourself.

“I don’t think you can call you getting into the NHL a long shot, unfortunately,” you tell him, your lips twisting in the corner as you bite back a smile when he starts to frown. 

“Not you too with the nepotism stuff,” he scoffs, only partially feigning offence.

You swat at his chest, “Hey, I’d never,” you gasp, “I meant ‘cause you’re so talented.”

“I bet you did,” he snorts, falling back into step beside you, a little closer this time, your elbows knocking as you continue to walk. “Haven’t even played yet this season, what would you know about my talent?”

You think it’s the way he’s leaning in a little that seems to hypnotise you, rendering you a speechless, practically-spluttering mess as you struggle to form words or a single, coherent thought. You wonder if this is how he felt, all those times when you turned on the charm and innuendo and purposely tried to push his buttons. Defenceless and weak. 

“I’ll tell you what I do have a talent for,” he straightens up a little, increasing the space between you so that you feel like you can at least breathe again. “Important old man voice. If you ever need to put someone down as a phoney reference.”

“I’ll bare that in mind when the NYU admissions board loosens their policy on Kevin McAllister level schemes, thanks,” you chuckle, your smile lingering when he returns it, cheeks folding into a lopsided grin. 

“Hey, give a guy some credit, there’s a little Ferris Bueller in there too.”

“Yeah, ‘cause schools love Ferris Bueller types.” You scoff, “You’re such an idiot.”

You glance over to see him pretty much beaming in response, and, if you were a betting person, you’d put all your money on knowing his exact train of thought.

You have a tell, after all, you remember, for when you’re enjoying yourself more than you think you should be.

Walking back to his apartment gives the two of you a little time to properly catch up - away from tense conversations and teary admissions - he tells you about his training, you tell him about school, and it feels like seconds pass before he’s ushering you into his building with that same guided hand on your lower back, the heat of his touch felt even through his jacket, and into the elevator. 

You stand by his side as it slowly ascends, hands buried in the warmth of his jacket pockets and ever so often meeting his eye in the reflection of mirrored doors before you glance away with a flush to your cheeks.

Every time you look back, he’s smiling a little, soft and small, but sure of himself in a way that makes all those hardened parts of you melt a little inside. 

There’s something different about him that you can’t quite put your finger on - something in the way he carries himself, around his teammates, around you, even just in general - like he stands taller, somehow. Like here in Jersey, he makes a point to hold himself up a little more, and it makes you cherish the version of him you had, those months ago - vulnerable and raw.

You hadn’t appreciated at the time, just how much of himself he gave to you - all the little quirks and insights you got to see - but you appreciate them, now. 

“I had fun tonight,” you tell him, smiling instinctively when he meets your eye, “Thanks for not letting me leave.”

“Thanks for not leaving,” he chuckles, the doors opening in front of you and that hand going straight to your back again until he’s guiding you towards his apartment. “It’s been nice just talking to you again, I missed it.”

“Me too,” you admit, because there’s really no use in keeping it bottled up when he’s so freely opening himself up to you. He so easily tells you that he misses you, and wants to speak to you, and it enjoys your company, so you not doing the same only feels like you’re doing yourself a disservice - especially when admitting as much back to him earns you one of those cute, crooked smiles he’s so good at giving. 

He holds open the door for you and you have to brush past him to go in, but your hesitance to touch has long dissipated throughout the night, so you don’t entirely mind when he follows you straight in, and you can feel the heat of his presence.

“Are you wanting to go straight to bed?” He asks, hand on your waist as he passes you and heads for the kitchen, flicking on the lights under the cabinets and getting two glasses down from one of the cupboards.

“I probably should,” you huff, despite wanting to stretch this out with Luke - your mind going back to I miss watching movies with you, and considering flopping down onto the couch and putting something on, for old time’s sake. “Is your couch comfy? I don’t really want to sleep in Jack’s bed.”

“You can sleep in mine,” he offers, before he even has a second to consider it.

“Oh, I don’t know-,”

“I’ll go in Jack’s, it’s fine,” he nods down the hall, gesturing you to follow as he carries two glasses of water, knocking the handle to the room on the left until the door opens and letting you go in first. 

The sheets are the same as on his bed back at the lake house, and it’s the first thing that takes you aback, a familiar grey-blue comforter that you already feel the softness of from across the room, and a cream throw haphazardly thrown across the top. 

You can tell the sheets aren’t entirely fresh - slightly crumpled, and not-very-neatly made, pillows askew - but if you’re sleeping in Luke’s bed, weirdly enough, you would probably prefer it that way.

“Sorry, I should have tidied up a little,” he chuckles nervously as he passes you to place a glass down on the nightstand. 

“It’s fine,” you shrug, stepping forward just to fall down onto his bed - the mattress plush enough that you already feel yourself sinking into it, tension easing away from your muscles. 

You’re kind of glad you kept an eye on him, watching his gaze shift to the way your dress now rides up on your thighs, and the bob of his Adam’s apple as he swallows thickly before looking away.

“I’ll just get something to change into then I’ll get outta your hair,” he mumbles, trying to busy himself with something else as a distraction. Just before he can pass you to his closet, you reach out to grab at his wrist, and it’s almost like muscle memory is forcing you to do so - something within you not allowing him to get away.

He’s in front of you now, close enough that you kind of have to crane your neck the whole way to look up at him, and you watch as his eyes drag slowly from the point of contact to meet yours, every movement he makes unhurried and purposeful. 

“I just wanted to say thank you again, for tonight,” you start, speaking without any real plan as to what you want to say, but wanting to keep him just a little longer, “For keeping me company, and letting me stay in here-,”

“It’s no big deal-,”

“And for not letting me push you away.”

It might be the first time you’ve ever owned up to it - being the master of your own downfall, or the downfall of your relationship with Luke, and anything you still could have been after the fact - and it isn’t easy, admitting that you’re the problem.

But you feel like you owe it to him, as a reward for all this resilience in the face of your constant rejection. He’s been nothing but patient, and you’ve been nothing but hard work, and you’re willing to admit, now, that you’re done with it.

He smiles, eyes knowing, the relieved, breathy sigh he gives dissolving all the guilt that’s building in the depths of your gut, and sinks down beside you on the bed, his thigh brushing yours as he settles in. 

Hours ago, being this close would have terrified you. You’d have shut down, turned away, shuffled across the sheets until there was a healthy distance between the two of you, but you don’t move. You just turn, a little, to be able to meet his eye.

“Are you saying you’re done with that?” He asks, a little hesitant, assuming, probably, that you won’t be entirely open with him.

But you nod, chewing at the corner of your bottom lip as he presses his own together, eyes darting a little lower.

“So we’re friends?” He asks, his voice low, the depth of it causing a weird vibration to wrack down your body - a buzz that won’t go away, now that he’s this close, and he’s looking at you the way he is. 

“If that’s what you still want to be.”

The thought of him changing his mind makes you a little dizzy, an ache growing in your chest again at the thought of being nothing - but you’d deserve it, you think, after all the times you turned him down. 

It would hurt, but, as always, it would be your own doing. 

“And we won’t ever be more?”

The pleading tone in which he asks makes the back of your throat go dry, and all you can do to respond, now, is shake your head. Slowly, and hesitantly, but it shakes all the same, tears welling in the corners of your eyes as you take in his resigned acceptance.

And then, something shifts.

A subtle shake of his head, as if he’s fighting an inner monologue, and then an assured switch in his demeanour - a tilt of his head as he surveys your reluctance, and the swipe of his tongue to wet his lips, like he’s preparing to fight back.

“If I kissed you right now,” he asks, voice still low, eyes lower, pinned to the curve of your lips as they part as if by instinct, “Would you tell me to stop?”

“Luke,” you warn, no more than a whisper as you watch his lips too, “We can’t.”

“That’s not what I asked,” his eyes trail slowly up until your gazes meet, and his head tilts again in question, blinking heavily before he asks, “Would you push me away?”

Your lips form around a response that you can’t even think to give back, opening around an answer you’re not ready to give at all, and all your body wants to do is deny. You fight the urge to shake your head, but you think that it’s a losing battle, especially considering how much your brain feels like it’s being rattled around anyway.

You don’t know what you do to make him move forward, but you figure by now you don’t actually have to do anything. He can probably read your mind at this point, spurred on no doubt by the way your eyelids flutter closed when he’s close enough, and the tip of his nose presses to yours, slow, heavy breaths falling into the decreasing space between the two of you. 

You should stop him. You know that.

It isn’t good for either of you, letting this carry on, leaving the edges of your relationship so frayed that even the smallest tug could pull the whole thing apart, thread by thread. 

You should tell him to stop, should push him away, should hold a lighter to the loose ends and singe them together to prevent further damage. You’ve only just settled on friends, and now you’re not sure, again.

But the second he gets this close, you’re not in charge, anymore.

It’s like some force of nature takes over, brings the two of you together like tectonic plates meeting, and causing unfathomable destruction to both of your hearts in the aftermath.  

His kiss is so instantly tender that it hurts already, tears prickling at the seams of your scrunched-closed eyes, and all you can do is push through the pain. You kiss him back, lips closing around his again and again as your faces smush together, and you start to feel the passion consume him - something takes over almost like an urgency, where you’re clawing at his the front of his costume and he’s clutching at your waist, doing anything physically possible to close whatever gap still sits between you.

The pressure of his lips is almost bruising, now, but you like it that way - soft exhales puffing out from his nose so that he doesn’t have to part to catch his breath, fingers pressing so hard into your flesh that you hope they leave a mark.

He tastes just how you remember, and it takes you back all those months to summer - to stolen kisses over centre consoles and making out in his bed when everyone else was out. There’s a part of you that feels giddy with it, just like you had then, partaking in something so precious that was just for the two of you, and it starts to distract you from what this actually is.

A mistake. 

You pull away instead of pushing, bringing your chin back until your lips part with much effort, a hmmph and a furrow of your brow, and you can’t bring yourself to open your scrunched eyes, not yet, but you know when he’s going to chase.

“Luke,” you whisper in warning before your eyes flutter open and you peer up at him through your lashes. He looks so soft, you think, despite all the ways he tries not to. Despite the sharp line of his jaw, and the hardened look in his eyes. You feel your walls crumbling at just the sight of him - defenceless to his charms, once again, because how much could Luke possibly hurt you? “Friends don’t do that.”

“Maybe our friendship starts tomorrow,” he hums back, “Maybe we get this out of our systems one more time.”

And it’s sitting on the precipice of that feeling you’ve been chasing since July that has you considering it - ever so close to finally getting closure on whatever the two of you were, or could have been.

Getting it out of your system sounds healthy. Sounds like a clean slate, a fresh start, and you have no doubt that if you’re going to be friends with Luke Hughes, that it’s exactly what you need in order to do so. 

Because, if you’re honest, it’s that exact thing that’s been holding you back this entire time - closure. With such an abrupt end to what the two of you had, how could you ever possibly close that chapter mid-sentence? How could you ever move on?

“One more time,” you try to sound stern, try to convince yourself of your own words, “Then we have to let this go.”

“You got it.”

“No more Luke, I mean it.” You have to push down this feeling of impending doom, or you’ll never get anywhere, but you need to warn him one last time, just to be safe. “Strictly friends after tonight.”

“I already agreed, can you please just let me kiss you again?”

“Okay, fine, just,” you huff, hands splayed across his broad chest and pushing until your bodies part, his butt shuffling back on the bed. “Take the costume off, first, I’m not feeding into whatever dorky cosplay fetish you probably have.”

You’re only part joking, but it’s the only way you know how to relieve the tension a little, and your nerves start to dissipate at his reaction.

He chuckles, with the kind of cocky smile that makes your heart jump, reaching behind himself to unzip the back of his costume with an affectionate shake of his head. He stands, then, to shuck it off, the whole thing dropping off of him until he kicks it across the floor, towards his laundry hamper, then stands in just his briefs, which are slung low on his waist. “You can keep yours on, I don’t mind,” he tells you when you’re distracted by the taut, defined lines on his stomach, eyes trailing slowly up to meet his, gleaming back at you.

“You’d love that wouldn’t you,” you scoff, watching as he draws closer, shuffling back a little on the bed to accommodate him, “You absolute freak.” 

“You can’t sit there and pretend you don’t want me to call you princess again.” He smirks, bending down until his hands are on either side of your hips, and you’re leaning back with your fingers pressed into his sheets and your head craned back to meet his eye, “Saw you getting all flustered about it, earlier.”

“Shut up,” you huff, curling a hand around the back of his neck and pulling him down into you - the two of you colliding in a clumsy, messy kiss. His body crawls over yours, encapsulating you entirely in an intoxicating warmth, and you find yourself melting into his every touch - large hands running down your sides, settling on your waist, and the other easing its way under the skirt of your costume. 

You put both hands to use too, one remaining behind his neck, scratching into the grown out curls that sit there and tugging when he starts to tickle up your thigh, the other on the warm skin of his chest - the rampant thud of his heart beating against your palm.

One more time, just to get him out of your system.

And then you can be friends.

What could possibly go wrong?

another a/n: I'll try to finish the next part asap!! thank you for reading, I know this was long lmao!! would love to hear your thoughts!!!!

[goddamnitmahtin]

Welcome to the Family

(a dc x dp prompt)

Someone please write this. Give me adult Danny sitting on that sweet Fenton family money. Give me Danny with that Ghost King money. Give me Danny with a deaged Dan and Dani as teens. Give me vigilante Phantom who needs to feed his protection ghost obsession by protecting the people of his city. Give me Danny Phantom with an empire of vigilantes who work with him in his name who are also his family. Give me Danny being Bruce Wayne.

Except, he’s significantly better at it than Bruce.

The Pham keeps growing and the lineup of vigilantes that all share the same symbol on their chest keeps getting better. Every member of the team is loved and cared for. And no one who isn’t already dead dies because you better bet your ass they have a plan for EVERY scenario. If someone gets hurt? Phantom will avenge them. The Ghost King can and will collect any souls that are overdo. He can and will allow those who have killed may be ripped apart by the ghosts of their own victims.

The lineup of vigilantes may have started out small, just Phantom and Red Huntress. But then it grew. Tucker joined behind his computer, providing technical support as Firewall. Sam stood beside him with her ever growing plant magic as Iris. Jazz offered her ability for psychoanalysis, giving her ability to use Tucker’s research and her own brain for profiling as Mandela. Dani joined her father as Spector and Dan wasn’t far behind as Wraith.

That was only the beginning. After Phantom was officially asked to join the Justice League, the Pham only grew. Much to the dismay of the others.

Superboy was no more after Danny watched Superman speak in such a horrid way about the boy. Kon was doing just fine now in the Pham. He was much happier as Spright. After Danny adopt him, he never had to feel like he had to be ashamed of who he was as a clone. Dani was a clone too and Danny loved her all the same.

The second Robin? Haha…. yeah the moment that boy died, Danny adopted him. Jason was heartbroken and betrayed by Batman but he knew he would never have to feel that way again. He could spend the rest of his half life with the magic Robin once gave him as Lucky Charm. Except now? He knew the magic came from inside him. Not from his title.

Danny may or may not have stolen the fourth Robin as well. All Danny needed was to watch him yell at her during a meeting one time. Once she joined the Pham, she was always respected and no one yelled at her. Her more unpredictable tendencies? Completely welcome and very effective when the team around you is just as wild and creative. Stephanie liked her life as Violet.

After working with the Titans, Danny may or may not have also picked up Raven on the way. She really needed a father figure and Danny was more than willing to provide. Rachel was invited to every movie night, family dinner and party the Pham had and of course, she had her own room in the Pham household if she ever needed a place to crash.

Give me Danny pulling a Bruce Wayne so hard that he outBruces the Wayne. Give me Danny being the best dad on the planet. Give me Danny also funding the JL just so Bruce can’t. Give me Danny casually knowing all the dirt on all the other JL members because he stole their kids and they aren’t afraid to tell him what they did.

[lexirosewrites]

Steve ends up boding with Nancy that first night they sleep together and Barb disappears. He's so in love with her and they're having sex for the first time and he's never slept with someone he loved before and he ends up sinking his teeth into her mating glad without even realizing it.

Nancy is not happy about it. She likes Steve a lot but she promised herself that she would never be someone who mates before they graduate high school and become just like her parents. She wants to chase her dreams and make it as a female Alpha in journalism, but she also feels honor bound to Steve. She ends up biting him back to spare him the hurt of an unfulfilled bond.

Her parents are a little concerned they're both so young but they ultimately approve and Steve's parents are just happy to know he won't continue to be a burden after he turns 18 and graduates and it will legally be his Alpha's job to take care of him. With no access to one of the fancy bond removal specialists in New York or Chicago, Nancy resigns herself to the bond and taking Steve with her into her future.

Steve, on the other hand, is ecstatic. He loves his Alpha and can't wait for them to move out and start a family of their own. Nancy makes sure to treat him gently, even if sometimes it feels like she sees him as a stereotypical airheaded Omega. Even when he can feel the little pull of tension in their bond.

He's happy right up until it becomes clear that Nancy would rather be with Beta Johnathan Byers than him. He can feel it, see it, but refuses to accept it. When she comes to him after their first encounter with the Demagorgan and asks if he would be open to adding a beta to their bond, he's so relieved that she isn't just leaving him to say anything but yes, even if it's not really what he wants.

Again, they are both very sweet to him but it feels more like he's their pet than their partner. They hold him and cuddle him but they don't talk to him about anything of substance or make him feel important. He feels like a third wheel in his own relationship. But he has no one else to turn to with his old friends and parents out of the picture.

By the time the events of season two start to play out everyone in school has noticed that Nancy spends more time with Johnathan in the dark room than with Steve. Rumors start flying around about Nancy and Johnathan trying to push him out of the bond and Steve's social position falls even further. He's trying to be a good Omega, but it feels like every time he reaches out he's turned away.

That night at Tina's party Nancy and Steve fight. They were all three supposed to come together but Johnathan ended up going with Will instead. Nancy tried to insist that none of them go, but Steve insisted that they could have fun together and meet up with Johnathan afterward.

Nancy ends up drinking way too much and lays into Steve when he tries to help her. She goes on about them killing Barb and pretending nothing happened as well as how she never wanted to bond with Steve in the first place. Goes on about how he's ruining her life.

Steve goes near catatonic after that, rejection sickness setting in quickly. He gets in his car and drives, finds himself parked outside the Wheeler house where he spends most of his nights. He can't go back to his parents' house, doesn't have anywhere else to go, so he just curls up in the back seat of his car and passes out.

That's how Dustin finds him the next day. Nancy clearly didn't look for him, which hurts, but the smell of puppy distress coming off of Dustin is enough to pull him out of his distress long enough to help. His Alpha may not love him, but Steve loves kids and won't let anything happen to one under his watch.

After El closes the gate, it's like the three of them (John, Nancy, and Steve) all agree to pretend none of it happened. Nancy doesn't apologize, John doesn't explain, and Steve doesn't ask, but he also doesn't forget. His new pack bond with the kids is enough to keep him stable, but he knows now that his Alpha doesn't want him and spends almost every moment with them disassociating. They must feel it through their links (Steve to Nancy, Nancy to John) but they chose not to acknowledge it. They let Steve float because it's easier for them to pretend this thing between them isn't broken.

When summer hits Steve starts applying for jobs just to get out of the house. The three of them moved into a small apartment, a gift from Ted Wheeler, during Spring Break and Steve needs an excuse to get out of there. He hasn't even bothered to make a nest in their new bed. He doesn't think Nancy has even noticed, but John gives him pitying looks that he blatantly ignores.

With Scoops comes Robin. Steve instantly likes her, even if she bullies him relentlessly. At least she sees him. At least she can look him in the eye and tell him she thinks Nikes are lame and commiserate about the terrible sailor music on blast 24/7.

When they get sucked into Russian plots and drugged within an inch of their lives, they spill their guts both figuratively and literally. She tells him about being an Alpha who only likes other female Alphas and Betas and he tells her all about his failed bond. Tells her how trapped he feels.

When all is said and done, Ronin refuses to let him go back to Nancy and Johnathan. She bundles him up in one of those dumb tinfoil blankets the paramedics give them and bares her teeth at anyone who comes too close. She takes him home with her and when Nancy comes asking questions like she actually cares what happens to Steve she tells her to fuck off, and when that doesn't work she grabs her dad to force her off the property.

Once Steve recovers physically from the torture, Robin tells her she knows someone who might be able to help. Someone who could break the bond.

It's illegal in the state of Indiana to break a bond, but Eddie Munson isn't exactly a God-fearing, law-abiding Alpha.

------

Aaaaaaand that's where I'll leave it. Ran out of steam a little but rest assured that Steve and Eddie will fall deeply in love almost immediately and have a million babies after Eddie helps Steve get rid of his bond.

Sorry this is so Nancy negative. I love her so much but with Omegaverse dynamics she always turns so evil. To be fair, she is very young and was trying to do the right thing, at first. I could never hate you Nancy Wheeler!

i will give you one million dollars for a full fic of this😵‍💫

[revelboo]

God hi I know it SUPER isnt gonna happen like this obvs but I'm just imagining EIA Shockwave Staring at the Two Sparkbonds in the human and is like Quiet and somehow figures out the second is Megatron and he doesnt say SHIT and is just like "Uhhhh yeah. Human's fine. Soundwave, please stay back so we may talk" and Sounders just like "Mkay" and so Star and the human leave and stuff and Soundwave is like "Query: What is it that Shockwave wishes to tell me" and Shockwave is just like "Bestie idk how to say this but I think Lord Megatron is what the humans call a homewrecker." And Soundwave has to play. SO cool about everything.

🤣 Shockwave is just assuming the other bond is Soundwave’s and he just can’t understand the appeal- thinks they’re both deviants. I’ve started going back trying to add warnings to the first chapters of everything, so folks don’t get surprised if the run into my stories in the wilds of Tumblr

Psst psst @thegarageafterdark aka Storm is one of my writer buddies who convinced me to even consider Transformers smut back in the day and she’s started a Tumblr. She does fated mates Transformers stuff for Bayverse and G1

Everything Is Alright Pt 129

IDW Starscream x Reader, Soundwave x Reader, Megatron x Reader

• Wincing as Shockwave just stares at you, you’re not about to admit the other bond is Megatron’s. Can’t imagine the Decepticon leader would want that to get out. And Soundwave rescues you by reaching out to run a servo affectionately against your cheek. Making Shockwave stare at him instead, antenna back. You’re pretty sure the scientist just thinks you’re all three a bunch of freaks at this point. If he realized Megatron was also involved, he’d probably literally blow a gasket. “If a spark was to form from a full bond-” Starscream begins and Shockwave growls.

• “Illogical,” Shockwave snarls, turning away with his scanner, studying the readings. Wings lifting in affront, Starscream growls back at the scientist. Not liking the other mech’s dismissive tone. “No sparks are possible with an organic,” Shockwave adds, tone almost angry. Like the very fact that he wanted to spark you is deviant. That he wants you is obscene. Tempting him to lash out at the bigger mech to defend you. Except you might get hurt if he does, worry for you chaining his temper. But it’s something he can’t forget or forgive even if they will need his skills eventually.

• Servo trembling where he’s got it against your cheek, Soundwave wants to take you from Starscream. Press his face against you to feel the beat of your heart, your warmth. Unable to really believe that he can have this without risking everything else he has. And the Seeker scowls at him when he gives in and cups his hands around you, lifting you close. “Little one.” Just needs to hold you, to ground himself in you, because he can repair that broken bond now without any guilt. Can really have everything.

• Gently pinned against his battle mask, you’re aware of the way Shockwave stiffens. Apparently not liking the display of affection. Or you. Pretty sure that he has some sort of issue with you in particular that you can’t figure out. Maybe he’s just xenophobic? And nobody has answered your ‘how long do Cybertronians live’ question which is beginning to worry you. There’s a niggling little worry in the back of your mind about that. Because you’d been in Star and Megatron’s memories and there’d been a lot to parse through, but no real concrete sense of time. Startling when Soundwave retracts his mask and brushes his mouth against your body, apparently not caring about Shockwave watching. Had he been really worried about how long humans live?

• Wings flicking as Soundwave rubs his face against you, venting softly, Starscream wants to be angry still about you and the communications officer. To resent that you love him, too. To ask who you love more even if he’s terrified of what your answer would be. Reminding himself that you’d chosen him. Bonded fully to him. No one can take that from him. “We got our answers,” he mutters, because as entertaining as watching the scientist’s obvious discomfort watching Soundwave is, he wants some quiet time with you. Wants to talk without Soundwave or Megatron listening in. Pretend it’s just you two like it had been back then when he was happiest. Figure out this new dynamic with the other two. His new Trine.

• Following Starscream out into the hall, he’s aware that he’s getting looks. That most of the Decepticons aren’t used to seeing his exposed face. Or it could be you as he nuzzles against your body to make you squirm with breathless little protests. And he stops short when the Seeker stops, wings lifting before Starscream starts laughing. Leaning, he looks down at Rumble and Frenzy and the little human they have in tow, Rumble’s arm around them. “Oh. Hi, boss,” Rumble says as Frenzy tries to pull the human into his arms. Head lifting to stare at Thundercracker, the Seeker carrying plastic boxes full of stuff, his wings flaring like he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t have. And you’re twisting to look too as the other human notices you and waves. “So, we need our own habsuite,” Rumble adds as Starscream keeps laughing.

Previous

Next

[sugarlywhispers]

b.katsuki x reader (fem) | villain!reader, prohero!dynamight.

a.n; a bit of context for this little idea i had yesterday (LINK HERE). 😉🌟should i make it a serie?? 👀

The war lasted years. Years that brought not only destruction but losses that hurt deep in the soul. Years in which the whole world changed, including people. Deaths, injuries, betrayals. Wins and loses.

It took years to bring Shigaraki and his whole team down, but once it was done, Bakugou remembers clearly turning toward his best friend, Izuku, and hugging him so tight.

None of them will admit it, or at least Katsuki won't, but they both cried in that embrace.

Bakugou also remembers you.

You, who once used to fight alongside him and the rest of his hero friends. You, who knew them all from your first year at UA, because you had also been a classmate. You, who had shared laughs, cries, and many moments with them. You, who chose to betray them all and turn to Shigaraki's side.

He still remembers when it happened.

You had been right by his side; actually, back-to-back covering for him in the middle of a fight. Suddenly, the sun was clouded, leaving a gloomy and terrifying tension in the air.

"Enough!" A deep male voice roared, making everyone silent, heroes and villains alike. Bakugou felt your body tensing, and he immediately knew something was wrong.

"Y/N, stop this nonsense right now."

Bakugou turned and saw you looking straight ahead towards the voice. Your chest raised and lowered rapidly thanks to your breathing, he didn't know if it was because of the fight you both had recently been in or because you were afraid.

"Come. Now."

Bakugou didn't understand, or maybe he did but he didn't want to. But he definitely felt a sort of heaviness in his chest when he heard you murmur to him "I'm sorry" and walked towards the man.

He tried to stop you by grabbing your wrist, but you never turned to look at him. You simply shook his hand away and walked towards the villain.

"Don't make it any more dramatic, you stupid hero. She has always been one of us." The man smiled devilishly, an arm surrounding your shoulders once you stood by his side.

Bakugou felt like vomiting at that image.

Your betrayal felt heavy on everyone. But especially on Katsuki.

Why? Why did you do it? There had to be a reason behind your actions. You didn't even go willingly, he knew that. He saw it. He knew it had to be under some threat or something.

He just couldn't accept the fact that the only person he had felt any sort of feeling besides annoyance towards, could not be a villain. You were not a villain.

However, that's the title the government sentenced you under after the war. And how everyone saw you. A villain, someone who betrayed them.

You are a villain, who has been sentenced to a whole life in prison after the war was over, alongside many other villains. Many other people who betrayed the hero side too.

Katsuki had been at your trial when the sentence was declared. He and others too. Izuku, Mina, Sero, Ochako, Shoto and Denki. Many were missing, many were dead.

You were standing, the first one in a line of other betrayers, clearly on purpose, just to put more shame on your person for your decisions. And behind you were people like Hawks, Inasa, Koda and Jiro, among others. A system of anti-Quirk chains connecting all of you by the ankles and wrists.

"This is... unfair," Round cheeks sighed, eyes glossy, watching the people they knew. Or used to know.

Several mmhs agreed with her. Including Katsuki.

Call him biased, he'll fucking blast you to pieces, but he was sure you didn't have a choice. Something happened that made you turn, and he was going to fucking find out what happened.

Even if after the judge read your crimes and asked you how pleaded yourself and you simply said, "guilty", with a raspy, clearly hurting voice, yet your stance was neutral, cold even.

Bakugou Katsuki didn't believe it for one second.

He kicked away an empty cardboard box that was on the ground, clearly showing his anger, as everyone walked out of the courtroom.

"This is bullshit," Sero groaned, pissed off too.

"There's something we could do," Mina declared firmly, making everyone turn around to her as she was the last one leaving the room. "Follow me."

They were all standing outside now, in an adjacent alley from the Court of Law where the sentence had been made.

"Spill it." They were all alone now, no media, no civilians.

"Yeah, what did you mean, Mina?" Ochako took a step closer to her friend, clearly anxious.

"I heard this from lawyers yesterday at the girls' restroom in the CoL. They didn't know I was there too, so they were talking freely. One of them said that she was surprised no one mentioned one of the protections of one specific law regarding certain cases. Cases where heroes are undercover, where they have to join villains."

Katsuki took a step closer, full attention to what Mina was saying. All of them were paying attention.

"They said that probably that law wasn't brought into the defense because they have no defense. They are just taking the blame for the war because that's what the government wants. Someone to point at, someone to blame."

"Fucking pieces of shit."

"Oh my God, that's horrible!" Ochako cried, hugging herself.

"I understand it now. It's perfect for them. They once fought alongside us, but then they turned, probably under government directions to play undercover. And now they are taking the blame because there isn't enough evidence that can help them, that says the contrary. Or they don’t want to show it." Izuku analyzed, crossing his arms over his chest, eyebrows frowning in thought, clearly activating his "nerd mode".

"Well, that would apply to some of them," Denki said, the anger clear in every feature of his.

"What does that mean?" Sero asked, but he didn’t seem confused. More like, indignation making its way into him.

"Please. We all clearly know who I'm talking about." 

All eyes traveled to Katsuki.

"Don't you dare fucking say it."

"Come on, Bakugou! She was right beside you when it happened! Her freaking father called out to her and she went! She fucking chose to turn to their side!"

Before Katsuki even decided to move towards Denki, Izuku and Sero were already holding him back, each one grabbing him by his arms and pushing him away.

“Who do you fucking think you are, huh?! She took a fucking bullet for you, you asshole! You wouldn’t even be here if it wasn’t for her, that same person you’re fucking accusing-...”

“She still betrayed us! She betrayed YOU.”

A growl left Katsuki’s mouth that could have frightened even All Might in his prime era, followed by a strong push that made Izuku and Sero activate their Quirks to hold their friend back. Uselessly.

But before he could reach where Denki was waiting for him, already electricity dancing around him, Mina stood right in between them, making Bakugou abruptly stop in his run in front of her.

“Cut it out! Both of you!” She yelled, “This is not the moment for this!” She told them off, scowling at each of them. “I don’t know what’s gotten into you, Denki, but if this is about Jiro,” Mina’s voice trembled, clearly upset about recognizing another of her dear friends who betrayed them. Denki’s hands closed in fists tightly, just like his eyes, as if the name physically injured him, “it’s the same as Y/N…”

“No, it’s not! She didn’t have another choice!”

“And what the fuck makes you think Y/N did?!” Katsuki yelled back.

“She walked away willingly!”

“Jiro did too!”

“I said, enough! Stop yelling!” Mina interfered again, “We are not going to do what everyone else is doing. We are not blaming our friends if we don’t know exactly what happened.”

“The only way to know is if we try to contact them, and all sorts of communications are restricted,” Ochako offered sadly.

Mina nodded, “If you all are done yelling, I was about to tell you guys how we can get them out of there.”

Bakugou buffed one last time, feeling Izuku’s hand on his bicep, pulling him away softly. The message was clear, “stand down, Kacchan, and calm down”. He took a deep breath and let Izuku drag him a few steps back.

Everyone’s attention was back on Mina, as she explained in good detail what they were going to do.

a.n; just so everyone is aware, i do NOT make taglists. sorry. don't hate me, please🥺

[synvil]

Do you think that Rafe would act differently if the reader were having excruciating period cramps? As if she's having a hard time talking and is sobbing into her pillow. She first tries to oppose Rafe's attempts to calm and reassure her, so he has to be a little direct and use his tough voice to get her to listen.

hello anonnie !! <3

short answer : yes. but i do think it also depends on what season rafe we’re talking about. like s1 rafe i think would grow pretty aggravated bc he doesn’t quite understand just how painful the cramps are and gets annoyed with reader. but if we’re talking s3-4 rafe, then i think he would be more assertive but not aggressive and then comforts her afterwards. maybe feeling bad for being so commanding yk?

thought i’d do a little blurb (⸝⸝⍢⸝⸝) ෆ comfort time.

synopsis : bf! rafe trying to comfort you when you’re having severe cramps.

“baby, how’re you feelin’?”

the lack of response and the curling of your figure on his bed makes him sigh as he quietly steps inside the room and shuts the door. “baby, come on. you need to get up..”

it’s been a couple hours since you’ve been curled up like this, hugging a pillow tightly and finding yourself unable to move. every shift creates a sharp pain into your abdomen and you can feel the tears well up in your eyes.

rafe felt terrible at what you’re going through, even if he didn’t quite understand the length of it. he went out and bought some items for you but you couldn’t enjoy any of it if you couldn’t move.

“[name], i bought some snacks for you. i also bought a heating pad for you.” rafe takes a small seat on the edge of the bed and sets the bag down as he pulls out some items. “you need to get up now, it’s not going to help if you stay in that position all day.”

you only groan in response, hugging a pillow tightly. “c-can’t..” you meekly whisper, your breathing a bit heavy as you whimper and moan from the cramping.

rafe frowns as he sighs. “come on, i know it hurts a lot but i’ll help you. you’ve been laying like this so you haven’t changed your pad, which you should. i know you’re going to regret it if you bleed through so let me help you to the restroom and i’ll set up a warm bath as well, okay?”

“no..” even though you knew he was right, you had to refuse. you couldn’t even think about moving, wanting to just bare the pain in bed forever.

standing up, rafe exhales out at your persistent refusal and leans down, tucking his arms under your body, successfully surprising you as you gasp sharply and drop the pillow.

now carrying you bridal style, rafe narrows his eyes down at you and his once soft voice becomes firm. “i’m not going to say it again, [name]. let’s go get you into a warm bath to soothe your stomach and a fresh change of clothes. after that,” he begins to bring you to the bathroom as he continues to speak. “we’ll cuddle up together with a movie and you can enjoy your new snacks and the heating pad, and if you’d like, i’ll rub your stomach to ease the pain too.”

once inside the restroom, he sets you down on the closed toilet seat and kneels down to set up the bath for you.

you feel tears brim your eyes as you clutch your stomach and listen to him, imagining the heat of the water doing wonders for your pain. you can’t help but feel your chest warm as well from how sweet rafe was being, and feeling bad how difficult you were..

rafe notices the look on your face and smiles lightly, turning to you and pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, rubbing your stomach with his hand over yours on your abdomen.

“I’m sorry for being a little assertive, but i promise it’s going to be okay. i’m here for you, baby. i love you.”

a/n : this might not be what you were expecting but this made me feel better :) especially as someone with bad cramps.

[promptedwordsmith]

Hiyaaa

I have a request , if that’s fine with you?

So Reader is MC’s long lost twin sister, they reunited a bit after and have been close ever since.

Reader is much different to MC , she likes the opposite things that mc likes and has different ticks and such.

She has a crush on (any of the LADS boys) and slowly watches as he falls in love with MC. She doesn’t say anything as she knows MC likes him too.

She gets invited out by sylus and slowly hangs out with him as she isn’t a hunter but does work in the N109 Zone. They soon get close and get into some sort of relationship , she then notices he keeps buying stuff that MC would like for her.

She brushes over it but he keeps doing stuff that the Mc would like usually, the food she’d like, the clothes she’d like.

She gets sick of being in her sisters shadow and confronts him and leaves.

OK, so I literally watched this ask come into the inbox and it was like a lightbulb switched on and I NEEDED to do this I love writing angst, this is also my longest fic yet - 5.2k! Wow

The sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows over the quiet city streets. The air was cool for a spring evening, a gentle breeze tugging at the edges of your jacket. You adjusted the strap of your bag, sighing as you looked down at the study materials clutched in your hand. The exam was tomorrow, but the words in your textbooks felt like they were swimming in a fog. Your mind kept drifting, not to the dense chapters of history or theory, but to her—your twin sister.

It had been years since that night, the night that shattered everything. You could still remember it as if it was yesterday—your parents' sudden, tragic death, the screaming sirens, and the confusion. And then, the moment you looked for her—searched frantically in the smoke-filled wreckage—only to find that she was gone, just... gone. You were left alone, confused, scared, and eventually, separated from the one person who had always understood you. Your twin.

The accident had changed her. The doctors said she was lost, somewhere deep inside herself, locked away in a mind that didn’t remember you anymore. But what hurt even more was that you had no one to ask. No one to explain what had happened, or why you had been torn apart. Your adoptive parents had been kind, if a bit too overbearing at times. They tried to fill the void, but they couldn’t. No one could.

You had learned to adapt, to bury the ache in your chest, and to focus on your studies, your goals. But even now, on the eve of the exam, you couldn’t stop the thoughts of her. You couldn’t forget.

Turning a corner, you stopped in your tracks.

There, standing under the flickering streetlamp at the end of the block, was a woman. She was looking down at a piece of paper in her hands, dressed in a long, dark coat, her hair flowing gently in the breeze. Something about her was oddly familiar, like a half-remembered dream, pulling at the edges of your consciousness.

For a moment, you stood frozen, your heart hammering in your chest. It was as though the universe had conspired to throw you back into the past. Your breath caught in your throat, and you took a tentative step forward, hesitating with every step.

She looked up, and your gazes locked.

The world around you seemed to fall away, the bustling city noises blurring into a distant hum. The world became small—too small, as if everything else had faded and there was only her. The same eyes, the same face... The face you had longed to see for so many years, and yet, the years had passed, and there was something different about her now.

The wind picked up, swirling the air between you as you took one more step forward. She looked... older, wiser, more distant. But it was her. It had to be her.

She didn’t say anything at first. Neither did you. You just stood there, staring at one another, time stretching thin between you.

“...Are you real?” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion, your chest tight. The question escaped your lips before you could stop it.

She blinked, her expression softening, and then she took a step toward you, as though testing the waters, unsure if the reunion was truly happening or if she was simply dreaming.

“You... don’t remember me?” Her voice cracked slightly, almost as if she, too, had been carrying this pain for all these years, but had somehow forgotten how to reach out. Her words hit you like a wave, and you couldn’t breathe.

You opened your mouth, the years of unspoken words flooding your mind. “I’ve been looking for you,” you whispered, feeling the tears well up in your eyes. “I thought you were lost.”

Her hand slowly reached out, trembling. She seemed to hesitate for a moment before placing it gently against your arm. “I—I’ve been lost,” she admitted softly, her gaze lowering for a brief moment. “But... I think I’ve found something again.”

And in that moment, standing there with your twin sister after so many years, something broke open inside you. All the hurt, the loneliness, the anger... it all began to pour out, mixing with the relief and joy that surged in your chest.

You didn’t need words for a while. You just stood there, side by side, as the cool breeze tangled in your hair, the world beginning to shift back into place as though the years had never happened.

You had found her again. And she had found you.

From that moment on, you were always together.

The years apart had created a distance, not just physically, but emotionally, and it was clear you had to relearn everything about each other. Every day was a new discovery—a moment where you would uncover something that had once been second nature between you. It was like rewinding time, only to realize how much had changed and how much still remained. It wasn’t easy at first. Trust was something you both had to rebuild, piece by piece, like constructing a puzzle you’d once finished but now had to start anew. But as the days passed, that bond, that unspoken connection, began to stitch itself back together in ways you never expected.

You learned so much—how different you had become over the years. You realized you had vastly different food tastes—she loved spicy, you preferred sweeter dishes. She always gravitated toward bold, vibrant colors, while you found comfort in softer, more muted tones. Even your tastes in men were different, and that was a shock at first. You would laugh at the things you found so amusingly out of sync—how she was drawn to a certain type of guy, while you found yourself leaning toward someone else entirely. And yet, every difference felt like another piece of the puzzle, making you realize how beautifully unique you both were.

You adored the differences. They were like little windows into the person you had missed all these years. Every new fact felt like an adventure, and the more there was to discover, the better. There was something so exciting about learning her quirks, her preferences, the subtle shifts in her personality you hadn't seen in years. And whenever you discovered something that you shared—whether it was a similar reaction to a movie or the same favorite childhood memory—it felt like a victory. It wasn’t just the similarities that made it fun, it was the process of rediscovery. And those small shared moments, they made you feel closer, like you were stitching the fabric of your connection tighter with each day.

As you spent more time together, you naturally introduced each other to your friends, and you couldn’t help but notice something that piqued your curiosity. Your sister, with her charm and warmth, had a lot of male friends—attractive male friends. You could see it the moment they walked in the room—the way they gravitated toward her, how they’d exchange casual, easy banter as though they had known each other forever. It was a little surprising at first, but not entirely unexpected. She had always been the social one, effortlessly making connections wherever she went.

But there was one guy who stood out among the rest.

Caleb.

He was different. There was something about the way he carried himself—confident, but not overly so. He had this easy-going charm, with a touch of mystery that made him hard to read. You noticed the way he looked at your sister—like she was something worth admiring, something worth protecting. But it was also the way he looked at you. Subtle glances, the kind that made your heart race for a moment longer than it should. You couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to Caleb than he let on.

You couldn’t deny the attraction, the pull that seemed to draw you toward him. It was more than just physical. There was something in his presence that made the air feel a little warmer, a little more electric.

And it wasn’t lost on you that Caleb was always there. Always around, always at the edge of the conversation, casually participating, but never intruding. He made you feel like you had to pay a little more attention, like you needed to be aware of everything happening in the room, even when it was just your sister and her friends hanging out.

The more you spent time with him, the more you realized that what you felt for Caleb wasn’t just admiration—it was something stronger. Something unspoken, something that pulled at the edges of your consciousness, making it impossible to ignore. You were drawn to him, and yet you couldn’t tell if it was just your curiosity or something more.

What made it even more complicated was your sister. She was so open, so comfortable with him. She trusted him in ways that made you question just how much you really knew about him. Could you both be seeing the same man in such different lights? Or was something else at play here—something you weren’t sure you were ready to face?

And so, as you navigated this new chapter of your life—one where your sister was back by your side and Caleb was somehow intertwined with everything—it was impossible to ignore the sense that things were about to get a lot more complicated.

But maybe, just maybe, that was the fun part.

You had always been so happy for her. When you saw the way your sister looked at Zayne, the way she couldn’t stop talking about him or looking for him, it was clear that she was head over heels. You had never seen her so alive, so full of excitement. You were thrilled for her, even if, deep down, you couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to have someone like that in your own life.

And yet, it all seemed to shift so suddenly.

You didn’t expect to walk into your bedroom that evening and find Caleb leaning over her, pressing a gentle kiss to her lips. You stopped at the doorway, your heart sinking in your chest. The moment felt like it stretched for an eternity, the warmth of the room suddenly feeling suffocating. Caleb’s lips were so close to hers, so tender, and in that instant, everything you thought you understood about your connection with him seemed to slip away.

You had spent weeks getting to know him, laughing with him, sharing subtle glances, those moments that made your heart race. You thought you were beginning to get somewhere with him, slowly, cautiously building something, but now it seemed like he had already found what he wanted.

Your sister.

The realization hit harder than you expected. You hadn’t spent enough time with him, hadn’t made him see you in the same way she had. Maybe you had waited too long, or maybe Caleb had simply been drawn to the one person who had always captivated him—your sister. The thought was like a weight on your chest, suffocating you, but you couldn’t let it show. Not now.

You cleared your throat, the awkwardness of the moment making your voice sound more strained than you intended. "Oh, sorry," you muttered, trying to sound casual, like walking in on them didn’t sting at all. "I didn’t mean to interrupt."

Caleb pulled away quickly, looking genuinely embarrassed, while your sister turned to you, her cheeks flushed with the same warmth that had been on Caleb’s lips. You could see the joy in her eyes, that sparkle that was so unmistakable. She was happy. That much was clear. And you were happy for her too... right?

You forced a smile, trying to ignore the way your heart was shattering into pieces. "No big deal," you added quickly, hoping your voice didn’t betray the devastation you felt inside. "I didn’t know you two were, um... together now."

Your sister giggled, her face lighting up with excitement. "Yeah, it kind of just happened," she said, her words soft and dreamy. "I didn’t even know I saw him that way before, but now... I can’t stop thinking about him. Caleb’s all I can think about."

You swallowed hard, nodding even though your chest felt tight. Caleb's all she can think about. The words echoed in your mind, each one a reminder of how you had misread everything. You had spent so much time hoping that maybe, just maybe, Caleb was beginning to see you, and yet here he was, kissing your sister, the one person who had always been in the center of everything you cared about.

"That’s... that’s great," you forced out, your smile faltering just for a second before you caught yourself. You couldn’t let her see. Not now. Not when she was so happy.

That night, as you both sat together on your bed, your sister gushed about Caleb to you—how she had never really seen him in that light before, but now that she had, he was all she could think about. She talked about how incredible he was, how easy he was to talk to, how he made her feel seen. It was clear that Caleb had become her world in a way you hadn’t expected. The excitement in her voice, the warmth in her words—it was everything you had wished for her, and yet, the sting of jealousy cut deeper than anything you had ever felt before.

But you didn’t let it show. You buried those feelings deep, far down where they wouldn’t be seen. She didn’t need to know that the happiness she was expressing had left you in a state of quiet devastation. You couldn’t make her feel guilty for being happy. You loved her too much for that.

So, you sat there, nodding, smiling, laughing along with her excitement, all while hiding the fact that a part of you was crumbling on the inside. You pushed the hurt away, because you wanted her to feel supported, to feel that you were there for her, no matter what. And if that meant hiding your feelings from her—hiding how much it hurt that Caleb, the man you thought might be yours, was now hers—then you would do it.

After all, she was your sister. And she deserved this happiness. Even if it meant you had to sacrifice your own.

In the weeks that followed, you worked hard to move past your feelings for Caleb. It wasn’t easy—those emotions had been strong, intense, and they hadn’t just vanished overnight. But you did your best, gradually pulling away from him, creating more distance, more space between the two of you. Every time you saw him with your sister, you pushed back the ache, burying it deeper, focusing on the things that mattered.

And Caleb? He didn’t seem to notice. At first, you weren’t sure if that was a blessing or a curse. On one hand, it was a relief. You didn’t have to explain yourself, didn’t have to confront those feelings head-on. On the other hand, it left you feeling... invisible. Was he so wrapped up in your sister that he couldn’t even tell that something had changed?

It was both painful and freeing.

But then, just when you thought you might stay in that stagnant space forever, someone new caught your eye—Sylus.

He was different. Tall, broad, and absolutely HOT. From the moment he joined the group, you couldn’t help but notice him. He had this presence, an undeniable aura that commanded attention without even trying. His voice—deep, rich, and full of a kind of quiet authority—carried across the room and made you pause every time he spoke. There was something magnetic about him, something that drew you in. And unlike the others, Sylus seemed more... open to spending time with you one-on-one.

You couldn’t explain it, but whenever he was around, you found yourself wanting to be near him more than anyone else. The way he spoke to you, the way he listened—it felt different. His attention felt genuine, unlike the usual banter you shared with the others, and before you knew it, you were looking forward to every chance to spend time with him.

In those moments together, you found yourself forgetting about Caleb, especially when Sylus’s attention became focused entirely on you. It wasn’t just that he listened to you, but that he actually seemed interested in what you had to say. And his compliments? They were always on point—never too much, never too little. It was just the right amount of praise to make you feel noticed, but never over the top.

The more time you spent with Sylus, the more you realized that your feelings for Caleb were truly fading, being replaced with something new. And this time, it was something stronger. You weren’t the type of person to rapidly shift who you liked, but there was something about Sylus that you couldn’t deny.

There was an intoxicating mix of calm and excitement in his presence—his voice, the way he held himself, the way he challenged you with his wit. When he spoke, it was like everything else fell away, and all that mattered was the conversation between the two of you. It was thrilling. Sylus had this ability to calm you with a single glance, yet rile you up with every word he said. The duality of it all was intoxicating, and you found yourself more drawn to him with each passing day.

And it didn’t go unnoticed. Sylus seemed to enjoy your company as much as you enjoyed his. You could tell by the way he teased you, the sly smile that would tug at the corner of his lips whenever you got a witty retort in. He would praise you, telling you that you were one of the few people who truly kept him entertained. It felt different from how he interacted with the others—more personal, more real.

It was almost like you were the one person he didn’t have to try too hard with, the one person who could match his sharpness, his intelligence, and his sense of humor. Every time you spent time with him, you felt like you were getting closer, like a bond was forming that you couldn’t ignore.

And you didn’t want to ignore it. You didn’t want to bury it.

The problem was, you weren’t sure if Sylus felt the same way you did. But the moments you shared together, the laughter, the conversations, the way he looked at you—those small, intimate exchanges made you feel like you were more than just another face in the crowd.

As time went on, you began to wonder... Could there be something real between you and Sylus? Something beyond the friendly banter and the chemistry that had begun to grow between you two? You weren’t sure, but the more you thought about it, the more you wanted to find out.

For the first time in weeks, it felt like you were starting to feel again. And this time, it wasn’t with Caleb—it was with Sylus.

It all changed that day.

You had thrown out another one of your usual witty retorts, something playful but sharp, and the way Sylus laughed made your heart skip a beat. It wasn’t just any laugh—this was different. He laughed harder than you’d ever heard him laugh at anything you’d said before, as if your words had truly caught him off guard. It was genuine, deep, and there was something about it that made you feel... alive.

But it wasn’t just the laugh that had you on edge. It was the look that followed it—the way his gaze lingered on you afterward. It was almost imperceptible at first, but the intensity of it hit you in an instant. His eyes darkened just a little, like the playful laughter had shifted into something else entirely. Something... charged. Smoldering.

You had felt a twinge of attraction before, but this was different. This wasn’t the kind of attraction you could brush off with a casual smile or a quick change of subject. This was real. Undeniable. The kind that made your pulse quicken and your breath catch.

You couldn’t help but feel a rush of excitement as you realized what it was. It wasn’t the easy chemistry you shared during your banter—it was something deeper. Something dangerous in the best way. Something that left you craving more.

And that moment marked the beginning of a whirlwind.

The next few days felt like a dream. Everything moved fast, but it was all so right. Sylus and you, the two of you together—it was like the world fell into place. You spent hours talking, laughing, and simply being together. Every time he smiled, every time his gaze met yours, you felt the undeniable pull between you. And he wanted you. You could see it in the way he looked at you, the way he touched you, the way he leaned in just a little closer than necessary. There was no mistaking it. This wasn’t a fling. It was real.

For five weeks, it was bliss. You felt happy in ways you hadn’t felt in a long time. With Sylus, you didn’t feel the weight of anything—no doubts, no second-guessing. It was pure, it was exhilarating, and it felt like everything was falling into place.

Your sister, ever the cheerleader, was beyond excited for you. She practically glowed with happiness whenever she talked about your relationship, always praising how great Sylus was for you, how perfect you seemed together. She was genuinely happy for you, and that made everything even better. You had always dreamed of being there for each other, no matter what, and now, here she was—celebrating your happiness right alongside you.

Even Caleb, for all the tension and unspoken feelings you had shared with him, came to congratulate you. It was strange, but in a way, it felt like a weight lifting off your shoulders. He wasn’t resentful. In fact, he seemed to mean it, offering you a smile and a casual, "You two seem good together."

And for the first time in ages, you felt like everything was aligning in the way it was supposed to.

You were happy. Your sister was happy. Caleb was supportive. And you had Sylus—your Sylus. The man who had brought something back into your life you hadn’t even realized you were missing: passion.

It felt like the perfect little bubble—one where everything was harmonious, where there were no complications, no unresolved tensions.

But as you basked in that bliss, a small part of you couldn’t help but wonder—could it really stay like this? Would it always be this easy? The kind of happiness you were feeling, the intensity of your connection with Sylus—it was almost too good to be true.

And yet, you pushed those thoughts aside. For now, everything was perfect.

At first, you couldn’t quite put your finger on it. It was small things, subtle things that didn’t make sense at first—until they did.

Sylus’s behavior began to shift. At first, it was easy to ignore. You were happy. He was happy. It was bliss. But then, the little things started to slip through the cracks.

He would do things—small gestures—that felt like they were meant for someone else. Like when he gave you a plushie that looked oddly similar to one your sister would love. Or the little trinkets he’d bring you, clearly in your sister’s favorite color, her favorite pattern. You’d laugh it off at first, joking about how he must’ve gotten confused, but it kept happening. And it wasn’t just the gifts—it was the way he started to interact with you. Sometimes, it felt like he expected you to react the same way your sister would. When he teased you, the way he smiled at your response, the way he looked at you as if he were waiting for you to be your sister.

At first, you dismissed it. Maybe it was just a quirk of his. Maybe he didn’t even realize what he was doing. You told yourself that he must just be a little... forgetful, or perhaps overly fond of your sister's personality. After all, they were close friends before you came into the picture.

But soon, it became too obvious to ignore.

You caught him. More than once. His gaze would linger on your sister when he thought no one was watching. The longing, the desire—it was palpable in the way his eyes followed her movements, the way his expression softened whenever she spoke. And you saw it. You saw it all.

You thought it was just you. That maybe you were reading too much into things, that maybe you were imagining the way his attention seemed to always drift toward her. But then you started noticing how often his attention seemed to shift, how you could feel him becoming distant in the moments when your sister was around. When the two of them would talk, you could sense it—something you couldn’t ignore. He wasn’t just in the moment with you anymore. It was as if he was waiting for something, waiting for her, always comparing you to her.

That’s when it hit you. The truth that you’d been avoiding for so long.

You weren’t really the one he wanted.

You were a stand-in. A placeholder. A substitute for your sister. The realization was like a punch to your gut, a sharp, jagged truth that twisted inside you. Sylus had been drawn to you because you reminded him of her, because you were the closest thing he could get to her.

It hurt more than you ever expected.

You thought you were special. You thought there was something between you two that wasn’t just about her, but now you realized that you had only been the next best thing. A consolation prize for the woman he truly wanted.

You tried to push the thought aside. You tried to tell yourself that it wasn’t true. That you were more than just a stand-in, that Sylus could see you for who you were—not for who you resembled. After all, you were funny, witty, confident—you had your own charm, your own uniqueness. You weren't your sister. You were you. And surely, that should have been enough.

But still, you couldn’t ignore the truth that simmered beneath the surface. Sylus seemed to be looking at your sister with an intensity that he never directed at you, no matter how many times you tried to make him see you as more than just a shadow of her.

You told yourself that if you just kept being you—if you kept showing him that you were interesting, funny, and as unique as you truly were—then maybe, just maybe, he’d see you. Maybe he’d see that you were more than just a stand-in. That you deserved more than to be a shadow in your sister’s light.

But the doubt lingered, gnawing at you. Every time he smiled at you with that distant look in his eyes, every time he gave you something that seemed like a gift meant for her, you couldn’t help but feel like you were chasing something you couldn’t quite reach.

And you hated that. You hated how much it hurt to realize that the person you were falling for might never really be falling for you.

It was that night—the night everything snapped.

He had come home with a beautiful pair of earrings, the kind that glittered in the light and caught your eye the moment he handed them to you. You were taken aback by their beauty, thinking, maybe this is the turning point. Maybe he was finally seeing you, you for who you were, not a reflection of your sister.

But then he spoke.

“You’ve been eyeing these for a while now, haven’t you? I thought I’d surprise you with them. You said you wanted to start saving for a pair like these.”

Your stomach sank. That wasn’t you. You hadn’t ever seen these earrings before, and more than that—they weren’t even your style. They were elegant, delicate, beautiful, but they looked like something your sister would wear. Something she would pick.

Your hands trembled as you stared at the earrings in disbelief. He had gotten them for her. They weren’t for you.

It was as though the fog had lifted in that moment, and the truth came crashing down. Your heart, which had been trying so hard to hold on to the illusion that Sylus saw you for who you were, shattered in an instant. You couldn’t breathe. You couldn’t think.

“Wait… you thought I wanted these?” You forced the words out, your voice shaky. “These aren’t mine. They’re hers. They’re for her.”

The shock on his face, the confusion that washed over him, made your chest tighten even more. He tried to explain, tried to cut in with some excuse, but you didn’t want to hear it anymore. You had been so patient, so willing to let him see you, to let him find what was special about you.

But this? This was the final straw.

“No,” you cut him off, the anger and pain bubbling over. “I’ve been ignoring it for so long, hoping you’d finally see that I’m not her. I’m me, but you never did. You’ve been treating me like I’m a substitute for her. A stand-in for someone who isn’t even here.”

He opened his mouth to defend himself, but you didn’t want to hear it.

“Stop.” Your voice was harsh now, sharper than you ever thought it could be. “I’m done with the excuses. You’ve made it so clear that I’m just the next best thing. You’ve made it so clear that no matter what I do, I’ll never be enough. I’m not her.”

Every word you spoke felt like a knife twisting deeper, but it didn’t matter anymore. You couldn’t keep pretending. You couldn’t keep hoping he would finally wake up and realize you were more than just a stand-in.

Sylus tried to step forward, to apologize, but you weren’t having it.

“Don’t,” you snapped, your heart pounding, your emotions raw. “Don’t even try. This is over. We’re over.”

You turned away, your vision blurring as your emotions surged. You grabbed the things he’d given you—the gifts, the memories, the little trinkets he had left scattered around your apartment. Each one felt like a betrayal now, a reminder that you were never really his first choice. You packed them hastily into a bag, shoving them into his arms before he could say another word.

“I’m done. Get out,” you forced out, each word a struggle to maintain composure. You shoved the bag into his chest, feeling the finality of it. This was it.

You didn’t want to hear anything else. You didn’t want to see him.

Sylus stood there for a moment, the shock still etched on his face. But you didn’t care anymore. Your heart was too broken to care.

With one final glance, he turned and walked out, leaving you standing there, the door slamming behind him with a deafening finality.

And in that moment, you knew. It was over.

The door clicked shut, and the silence that followed was suffocating.

[evecolourshock]

Well fuck, I gotta do this now, since you asked politely :) sorry if Yori's a little OOC, she's a darling and I love her but I can never seem to get her voice right.

@fourbitsinatrenchcoat here you go :D

Beck cocks his head, because puzzling out his current situation is a great distraction from the knowledge he is well and truly in over his head.

He's never seen that many guards for a single stasis chamber before. Especially when there wasn't supposed to be anything here. The stasis chamber jolts as it gets settled into a pallet, one corner flickering - Beck bets he can use that to hack it.

"Careful!" Someone hisses.

Dyson.

Damnit.

"If she escapes, the Luminary will have all of us derezzed!" The General snaps. "Null units, the lot of you." He complains. "Just get her on the transport, and no more mistakes."

Beck has to get whoever that is. Bad for the Occupation is normally good for the Renegade. He doesn't-

He's not going to bring them straight to Tron's lair. That's just generally a bad idea. The Garage is also a bad idea...

Eh. He'll figure it out later.

...Beck cannot believe it was as easy as "steal an armour set and a forklift". He just can't. How is their security this lax - sure there's lots of guards, but nobody vetted the driver of the damn forklift that showed up to move the pallet.

Dyson really should know better. Maybe he's too frazzled right now though.

Beck's not an idiot, so he ditches the stolen armour and goes hunting for trackers the moment he's out of sight. A diagnostics scan brings up details about whoever's in the chamber unexpectedly, and he feels his eyebrows hit his hairline.

Damn that's an early compilation date. Pre-this-Grid kind of early.

Maybe Tron knows her.

Later, later. Trackers disconnected and removed, he takes his rescuee somewhere he's been thinking of building his own base.

It's not much, certainly not at the level Tron has in his lair, but it has a charging berth and medkits and supplies, and a containment area. Good enough for now.

She doesn't stir when he finally deconstructs the stasis chamber - what medical scans he can understand tell him she'll wake up on her own as the effects of the chamber wear off. There's no sign of rectification - that's either good, or really really bad, but Beck's an optimist at core.

He did, after all, notice Tron had been rectified when even the Monitor couldn't, and managed to tweak the healing chamber to actually be able to deal with that instead of mask it. Tron's been looking leagues better recently for a reason.

Again, Beck's not an idiot - he still makes sure she's in the modified quarantine unit and shouldn't be able to get out of it. Precautionary measures don't hurt.

He switches his circuits from Renegade to the knowingly terrible versions of Tron's he used pre-Renegade. Not his civilian circuits, obviously a disguise... but also an extra layer of misdirection away from him being the Renegade. Because of course the Renegade wouldn't be caught derezzed in something so amateur (never mind the extra armour panels he's been able to add, now he knows how to make them).

And now, to wait.

The lady wakes with a muffled yawn Beck only just catches through his own exhaustion. He's taken naps of course, here and there, but... up all rest cycle, not enough sleep. At least he has the work cycle off.

Tron's a sleepy grumble in his comms, probably fresh from the healing chamber and wondering where on the Grid Beck is. He pings off reassurance that he's safe first and foremost - nobody needs a rampaging fugitive Monitor on their hands - and then alerts Tron that he's somewhat accidentally found, and then on purpose liberated, someone who seems to be of importance.

Tron demands explanations as to who and how, so Beck sends him a picture of the lady currently investigating the walls of his containment unit.

The stunned silence echoes. That's definitely an interesting sign - Tron's very rarely shocked out of lectures.

...Beck very nearly misses the first choked sob. "Yori." Tron murmurs, full of longing and disbelief.

The lady - Yori, if Tron is to be believed - catches sight of him eventually - Beck sees the veiled shock on her face, which quickly gives way to suspicion. That's... fair, he supposes. In this particular get-up, he's pretty clearly not Tron, despite wearing Tron's ident.

"Who are you?" She asks, defensive.

"Depends who's asking." Beck fakes Tron's voice... deliberately badly. Exactly how he used to, when all he had to mimic was footage scraps someone had tried to wipe from existence and not quite succeeded. Knowing Tron, he can do a better impression, but... better to hide that connection for now.

She snorts at him, and he can hear Tron suppress a shaky laugh over the comm. Beck grins under his helmet - he likes amusing Tron, makes him feel like he can help his friend in more ways than just with his job. "Well, you're certainly not my counterpart." She tells him, raising an eyebrow - as if the news is supposed to startle him.

It does, but Beck paid attention during Tron's lessons on How To Not Let The Enemy Distract You. "Truth?" He asks Tron quietly.

"Truth." Tron answers shakily. "I thought she'd been derezzed or-"

"Rectified." Beck completes softly, when it's clear Tron can't bring himself to say it. "She's clear of that, as far as I can tell." Tron makes a noise somewhere between a gasp and a sob - definitely fresh out of the healing chamber, that's the only time he's so expressive - and whispers a thanks to every deity he can think of. Users and otherwise. "I take it she's safe, then?"

"Yes." Tron breathes, and Beck chooses to take that as permission.

Retracting his helmet nets him keen eyes, and Beck lets his circuits shimmer back to civilian. "Sorry about the suspicion, Miss Yori, can't be too careful any more." Beck relaxes his posture, opens up, lets himself be warm and his actual age. It works, given how she relaxes in kind. "Just precautions, but a friend vouched for you."

"Must be some friend." Yori hums, sizing him up - Beck's definitely sure she's not checking him out.

"He is." Beck wanders over, deactivating the containment area with one hand and offering her an energy pouch with the other.

...does not let her see how he deactivates the containment. Even Tron trusts wrong sometimes, and Beck's determined to still have some secrets. Just in case.

"Anyone I'd know?" Yori asks, teasing in her voice.

"Mmm, you could say that." Beck grins, tapping his sternum four times - a gesture Tron uses to soothe himself. "So do us both a favour, yeah?" He abruptly goes serious, hair and plating fluffing out in an intimidatory display. "Don't break his trust."

Because Cyrus is a fresh wound. Because Dyson is a festering wound. Because Yori's betrayal would kill Tron, one way or another, and Beck refuses to let that happen.

The lightrunner ride to Tron's lair is done in silence, Beck using what by now is intimate knowledge of the glitches and shortcuts and general weirdness of the Outlands to obfuscate how to get there. Doing this makes Tron's head hurt, but... he trusts Beck to maintain secrecy this way. Yori stays quiet too, processing everything Beck's allowed her to know.

Tron's making an effort to be welcoming, near the entrance instead of manning his surveillance array. Beck gives his mentor privacy when he and Yori reunite - Tron hates the vulnerability that comes with emotions, the least Beck can do is make sure nobody's going to interrupt them.

Besides, he has reports to write.

Yori cajoles Tron into sitting down and resting, talking and comforting each other. It's... not easy watching them (Bodhi - Beck's core aches with loss), but at least Yori's seeming to hold true to her promise not to hurt Tron.

It takes ages for the discussion to wind down, for Tron to accept help to stagger to his healing chamber and let it close around him.

Yori watches him with sorrow in her eyes. "How can I help?" She asks Beck, when he nears.

Beck grins, and it's the fanged one he doesn't let Tron see. "So, I have this plan to overthrow Clu..."

Because nobody hurts Tron and gets away with it. On that, he and Yori can agree.

a while back I drew a concept for Uprising Yori -- but thanks to the power of me learning 3D modelling, I've made it a reality (:

[zairaalbereo]

It doesn’t feel like living anymore.

I love Miranda. And this is maybe the moment I find her the most arresting and beautiful. It’s such a raw, desperate moment. Asking to be seen. I love her contradictions. How she is both selfish and self-sacrificing. She is incredibly strong in so many regards, and yet struggling to find her own agency. She is honest and yet underhanded. She is kind and petty, smug and patient. As an avowed hedonist, she comes to endure even when she’s past her endurance. An in the end she becomes a martyr, when I think all she ever wanted was to be her own person.

That complexity is reflected in her relationship with James I think. There are many different takes on it, all of them valid, obviously, so this is just my own…

I find their relationship fascinating. It’s obvious that they love each other. It’s also obvious that this love is different than the one they had for Thomas, although that shared love for him certainly plays an important role in their relationship. But I think that Miranda maybe doesn’t love like James and Thomas at all, not in this all consuming way. The way I see her, she’s also completely aromantic, but that doesn’t make her love something lesser.

Miranda loves Thomas as someone who shares her interests and temperament, an intellectually stimulating partner, a great man. They were a harmonious couple, their relationship seemingly effortless. Her relationship with James on the other hand is a constant struggle, and not just because of the circumstances they find themselves in, I think. They are both too alike and too different. The one that fit with them was always Thomas.

Miranda and James’ love for each other is mostly built on loyalty. On knowing that whatever may come, the other will stand with them to the bitter end. And because of that loyalty they both try to be more for the other, to fill the void Thomas left, and failing miserably at it.

James tries to give Miranda things that connect her with her old life: books, a spinet, delicate tea cups. Even sex. But it’s a poor substitute, and the thing she most longs for —companionship— is unbearable for him to provide, because being with her reminds him of what he lost. Miranda wants to remember Thomas and talk about him, but James can’t.

James tries to keep Thomas close by striving to bring his vision to life, finish what they started, and prove England wrong in the process. And Miranda tries to be a partner in this. She helps him plot and patches him up and harbours prisoners, but she hates it just as much. They both hate the things the other needs from them. And yet they stubbornly hold on to each other, and try to keep each other safe. It’s not a passionate love. At times it’s almost resentful. But it’s deep and true.

How hard it must be for Miranda to love James. Love him in Thomas stead, knowing that she falls short by miles. How hard it must be to see him try to love her better, and failing because he, too, isn’t Thomas. Loving each other with such loyal devotion across the divide, the hole that Thomas left. Loving each other even though it is hard, and it hurts, that’s what makes it beautiful to me. 

[koyagifs]

𝓹.𝓼 𝓲 𝓵𝓸𝓿𝓮 𝔂𝓸𝓾

pairing: san x reader au: idol | best friends to lovers | genre: fluff word count: 3.4 k synopsis: throughout the years you and san sent letters to each other even with his busy lifestyle as an idol. The love letters he never knew until you handed him the last one in person. warning(s): fluff, sweet tooth rotting - literally will get cavities.

October 24, 2018

dear sannie, you've done it!! you debuted!! i couldn't have be a much prouder friend. You looked amazing on stage and in your music videos. Seeing you live your dream brings me much joy. College just started for me and im already nervous to not have you here beside me. You won't forget me right?

love, yn

San smiled at the letter, his heart swelling with warmth. He could almost hear your voice as he read it, the familiar way you always cheered him on, even from afar. Around him, his members noticed the soft expression on his face and couldn’t resist teasing him.

"What’s got you all mushy, San?" Wooyoung smirked, leaning over to peek at the letter.

San quickly folded it, keeping it close to his chest. "Just an old letter from a friend," he said, but the fondness in his tone gave him away.

"A friend, huh?" Yunho chimed in, raising an eyebrow. "You’ve been smiling at that thing for ten minutes. Must be a pretty special friend."

"She is," San admitted softly, his gaze lingering on the folded paper.

The teasing continued, but San didn’t mind. To him, that letter was more than just words on a page—it was a reminder of you, the person who had always believed in him, no matter how far apart you were. And in that moment, he felt closer to you than ever.

January 31, 2021

Dear Sannie, Congratulations on your first Bonsang! my roommate and i watched it, she's a huge fan by the way. I couldn't help but cry ha - i can already hear you call me a big baby. I can't help it. You and your members deserved the win and so much more. I hope you're doing well. Your parents had invited me over for spring break saying you'll be there. I hope i get to see you there ~

love, yn

San felt guilt creep on him when he read your letter. He had told his parents that he would try to make it for break but unknowningly had such a busy schedule (more like year) .

Spring break had come and gone, and he hadn't been able to make it home like he had promised. Promotions, rehearsals, and countless other commitments had eaten up his time. His parents had told him you were looking forward to seeing him, but it hurt him to know he had let you down, even though you likely understood.

He thought back to the letter you had sent him—your words still fresh in his mind. Your gentle, supportive tone had made him feel even worse. He knew you weren’t upset or angry, but that didn’t stop the guilt from gnawing at him. Your understanding was something he cherished, but it also made him feel even more responsible for not being able to fulfill his promise.

July 9, 2021

Dear Sannie, i saw your company confirm that you have covid. I hope you're well and getting plenty of rest. I'm worried about you, thankfully your mom is very assuring. It's been so long since we last seen each other and i think im officially have choi san withdrawals. haha only took like 4 years to have withdrawals from your annoying ass. in all seriousness, i truly do miss you san. i graduate soon, you'll be there right?

love, yn

San’s heart sank as he read your letter. The warmth of your words mixed with the concern you expressed about his health made him feel both comforted and guilty. He knew you must’ve been worried when the news of his diagnosis broke, and the last thing he wanted was to cause you any additional stress. He had been keeping a low profile, resting as much as he could, but your message reminded him of how much he missed you and how badly he wanted to be there for you.

He leaned back on his bed, sighing softly. It had been too long, and your humor—your way of bringing light to everything—was something he dearly missed. He smiled at the thought of your "Choi San withdrawals" comment, shaking his head at how much you loved to tease him. Even now, you were still able to make him laugh, even when he was feeling miserable.

July 6,2024

Your fingers were clenched around the straps of your tote bag, the weight of the letters inside feeling oddly heavy, despite being just paper. The photocard of San and Sandeoki tucked inside the bag was a small comfort, but the true contents were the letters you had written to him over the years—letters you never had the courage to send.

You had written them during moments of missing him, of wondering when you'd see him again, or just to express things you never got to say in person. Some were long, filled with stories and updates, others short and simple. But all of them were filled with love, concern, and a longing that had never truly gone away, no matter how much time passed.

Today, you decided, would be the day to let him read them. Maybe it was the fact that you had so much PTO saved up, or maybe it was just the need to reconnect after all this time. But either way, you were determined to surprise him.

You couldn’t believe it. You were in the front row, the best seat you could ever have hoped for, and the adrenaline was almost too much to handle. The energy from the crowd was contagious, buzzing through the air like electricity. The excitement around you was palpable, fans chattering and eagerly looking for their favorite idols. You felt like you were in a dream, surrounded by the cheers and anticipation.

And then, it happened.

The moment you’d been waiting for was finally here. You could feel the air in the room shift as the members made their way down the stage, waving and smiling at everyone, their energy infecting the crowd. The cheers grew louder, but amidst it all, your heart was beating so fast you thought it might explode. The closer they got, the more real the situation felt—and the more nervous you became.

Your row was the first to head up for their interaction, and now you found yourself standing up, unsure if your legs would support you. You clutched your hands together, trying to calm your nerves, but your heart was thudding in your chest. You had prepared yourself for this moment, but now that it was here, everything felt like a blur.

As you walked towards them, your gaze instinctively found him—San. He was closer now, his smile warm and genuine as he interacted with the fans ahead of you. You could hardly believe it. The boy who had been such a big part of your life, now right in front of you. Your mind was racing, and everything seemed to happen in slow motion. The cheering around you, the music playing softly in the background—it all faded as you focused solely on him.

Mingi’s playful tone made you laugh, and your nerves eased a little as you settled into the moment. You had always enjoyed Mingi’s energy, his teasing and carefree nature making interactions like this feel lighthearted. As he signed your album, his eyes twinkled with mischief.

"Yn, you said... hm..." he hummed thoughtfully, looking up at you. "Tell San that he's a lucky guy~" he continued with a wink, his teasing tone drawing out a laugh from you.

You couldn’t help but smile, a small blush creeping up your cheeks at his comment.

he playful banter made the nervous energy you had carried with you melt away, replaced by the warmth of his friendly presence.

Mingi handed your album back to you, his signature neatly added to the cover, before squeezing your hand lightly. "I’m glad you’re here, Yn. It’s been too long. Let’s make sure you get to see San properly later. He’s been talking about you a lot lately, actually."

Your heart skipped at his words, a mix of curiosity and excitement stirring within you. Mingi’s smile softened for a moment before he winked again, clearly enjoying the way he was getting to you.

"Don’t keep him waiting, hm?" he added teasingly.

Hongjoong’s eyes widened the moment he saw you, and the surprise was written all over his face. He stopped mid-signature, staring at you for a moment as if trying to process what was happening. It was clear that he recognized you, and that realization made the moment feel even more surreal.

"So, you're the long lost bestie, hm?" Hongjoong teased, a playful smirk forming on his lips. His tone was light, but there was a warmth in his eyes, like he was genuinely happy to see you again.

You couldn’t help but laugh at his reaction, the familiarity of his teasing making you feel right at home. "You can say that," you replied with a grin, shaking your head at how easily he had caught onto the situation. You hadn’t expected him to recognize you so quickly, but Hongjoong was always the type to notice the little details.

His eyes softened as he leaned forward slightly, clearly amused but also curious. "San’s been talking about you a lot, you know," he added with a wink, almost as if it was a secret he was letting slip.

Hongjoong’s smile widened at your words, and there was a mischievous glint in his eyes as he waved a staff member over. "I’m sure it’s all good things," he said with a wink, clearly enjoying the playful dynamic between the two of you. His attention shifted momentarily as he muttered something to the staff member, gesturing toward you.

You couldn’t help but feel a little curious, but you smiled at Hongjoong’s antics, knowing it was all in good fun. "It’s really nice to meet you too, Hongjoong oppa," you said, giving him a bright smile before starting to move down the line.

As you moved toward San, your heart raced even faster, the excitement mixing with a fresh wave of nerves. It had been years since you last saw him, and now, here you were—standing right in front of him again. It felt surreal, as if time had frozen for a moment, and you were about to close the distance that had stretched between the two of you.

San’s eyes met yours, and there was a flicker of recognition before his lips curled into that familiar, warm smile that made your heart skip a beat. You could see the slight surprise in his eyes, followed by a softness that only he could give you.

He took your album gently, his fingers brushing against yours as he began to sign it. The way he looked at you, his focus entirely on you, made everything feel more personal than you ever expected. His smile deepened, almost like he was processing the moment, and you could feel the weight of all those years apart—yet somehow, it felt like no time had passed at all.

"Yn…" San said your name softly, almost as if he was savoring it, and the way his voice carried your name sent a rush of warmth through you. "I didn’t expect to see you here."

You couldn’t help but laugh softly, trying to ease the nerves that had gripped you. "I didn’t expect to be here either," you replied, your voice quieter than you intended, but filled with the same affection that had always been there.

San paused for a moment, looking up at you with a tender expression. It was like he wanted to say something more, but the words got caught somewhere between his heart and his lips. Instead, he offered a quiet chuckle, almost as if he was trying to find his footing in this long-awaited moment.

"I’ve missed you," he finally said, his voice low but sincere. The words made your heart flutter, and you couldn't help but smile, your nerves slowly melting away as you soaked in the familiar presence of the person who had been such a big part of your life.

"I’ve missed you too, San," you whispered, feeling the warmth of his words wrap around you. "It’s really good to see you again."

As you handed San the stack of letters, you felt a quiet sense of relief. These were the letters you had never sent, all the thoughts and feelings you had stored over the years—now in his hands, where they belonged. He took them gently, looking up at you with a mixture of surprise and appreciation, his smile widening as he held them close.

Before any staff member could take the letters from him, San playfully shooed them away, his gaze never leaving you. "These are mine now," he said with a soft laugh, his voice warm and full of affection. You could tell he wasn’t going to let them go that easily.

Then, his eyes softened, scanning you as if noticing the smallest details for the first time in a long while. "You look amazing, by the way," he added, his tone sincere and appreciative. The compliment caught you off guard, but it made you smile—there was something about hearing it from him that made it feel even more special.

"Thanks, San," you replied, your heart fluttering a little. "You don’t look too bad yourself," you teased, trying to ease the tension with a playful tone, though the warmth you felt inside was undeniable.

He chuckled, his expression lighting up with amusement. "I’ll take that as a compliment," he said, his eyes sparkling. There was an easy, natural chemistry between the two of you, and it felt as though the years apart had only made this moment even more meaningful.

San’s fingers tightened slightly around the letters, a silent promise that he would read every single one. He met your gaze again, his eyes intense yet gentle. "I’m really glad you’re here, Yn," he said softly. "I missed you more than I realized."

You swallowed the lump in your throat, nodding as a wave of emotion washed over you. The moment felt so intimate, so real, that it was hard to believe everything you had gone through had led to this—this moment with him, right in front of you, ready to pick up where you left off.

You weren't completely shocked when a staff member pulled you aside when you headed to the bathroom. They took you to the back where you see San's manager who looked at you with a smile.

You were a little taken aback, but the manager’s warm smile quickly put you at ease. You nodded, a bit of nervousness still hanging in the air, and bowed respectfully as you replied, “Yes, I’m Yn. It’s really nice to meet you.”

His smile widened even further, the kind of friendly, reassuring smile that made you feel comfortable. “Great!” he said, his voice light and friendly. “Hongjoong wanted to make sure you get to spend the proper time with San after the fan greeting. You don’t have anything planned afterwards, right?”

The question threw you off for a second, but the surprise quickly melted into something more like anticipation. You hadn’t expected this kind of opportunity, and you found yourself almost speechless for a moment.

“No, nothing planned,” you replied quickly, shaking your head. “I don’t have anywhere to be after this.”

The manager’s expression softened, clearly pleased. “Perfect. I’ll make sure San knows. He’ll be happy to see you again, I’m sure.”

You could barely contain the butterflies in your stomach as you processed what he had said. You were being given a chance to spend some actual time with San after the fan greeting—something you never thought would happen. It felt like the universe had suddenly conspired to bring everything full circle.

San's excitement was palpable as he made his way backstage, his usual easygoing demeanor replaced by an eager energy. He had been looking forward to spending time with you since the moment he saw you during the fan greeting, and now that it was finally happening, his anticipation was nearly overwhelming.

As he hurried through the corridors, he spotted a seat near where the members had been resting—empty. His heart skipped a beat, and he immediately knew you must be somewhere nearby. His footsteps quickened, a smile tugging at his lips as he made his way toward the back.

He spotted the manager first, and without missing a beat, San called out, “Where is she?”

The manager’s face lit up at the sight of San, clearly enjoying the interaction. “She’s just down the hall, waiting for you.”

San’s grin grew even wider, and he didn’t waste a second. He rushed down the hallway, the anticipation rising with every step, until he finally rounded the corner and saw you. There you were, standing by the door, looking just as excited and nervous as he felt. Your presence made everything feel more real, and his heart swelled with happiness.

When you saw him, a smile broke out across your face, and before you could say anything, San was already there, walking towards you with long strides. The moment you locked eyes, the world around you seemed to fade. The years apart, the distance—none of it mattered now.

"Yn," San said your name softly, his voice full of warmth and something else, something deeper. He was standing right in front of you now, his eyes searching yours, as though taking in every little detail.

The moment San’s arms wrapped around you, everything felt like it clicked back into place. All the years apart, the distance, the longing—it all flooded back in an overwhelming rush. You could feel the tension in your body release as he pulled you in close, his warmth wrapping around you like a familiar blanket.

Tears started to blur your vision as they rolled down your cheeks, unexpected yet somehow inevitable. The years you had spent missing him, the silent ache in your chest, and the excitement of finally being here, in his arms—it was all too much. You let the emotions flow freely, no longer holding back.

San’s grip tightened around you, his hands soothingly rubbing your back, as if grounding you in the moment. His voice was soft, filled with concern, but laced with the same warmth that had always made you feel safe. “Hey, hey, it’s okay,” he whispered, his voice just for you. “I’m here now. I’m right here.”

His words, so familiar yet so comforting, broke something inside you, and you cried even harder. It was the release you didn’t know you needed, the culmination of everything you had kept bottled up for years.

San pulled back slightly, just enough to look at your face, his expression filled with a mix of understanding and tenderness. His thumb gently wiped the tears from your cheeks, his gaze softening as he smiled down at you. “I’m so sorry it took this long,” he whispered.

You sniffed, still overwhelmed by everything but grateful beyond words. “Me too,” you whispered back, your voice barely audible. “I didn’t know how much I needed this until now.”

San’s hands cupped your face, his forehead resting gently against yours. “You don’t ever have to wait this long again,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “I’ll make sure of that.”

San’s breath hitched slightly as you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. His heart raced as you gently pressed your lips to his, the kiss tender and full of unspoken feelings. The moment felt like it was suspended in time, both of you lost in the shared connection that had been years in the making.

The soft warmth of his lips against yours was everything you had been yearning for during the long time apart. It wasn’t just a kiss—it was a promise, a shared understanding of all the moments that led up to this one. You could feel the way his hands instinctively tightened around you, pulling you even closer, as if he never wanted to let you go again.

The kiss deepened, slow and careful, as if both of you were savoring the reunion. Every little touch, every breath, felt like the culmination of everything you had missed and everything you were about to rediscover together.

When you finally pulled away, you both lingered, foreheads resting against each other, breathing heavily, trying to calm the whirlwind of emotions. San’s hands remained on your face, his thumbs brushing gently against your skin as he looked at you with such softness in his eyes.

" promise?"

“I’m not going anywhere,” he whispered, his voice barely above a breath. “I promise.”

You smiled, a sense of peace washing over you, knowing that this time, you didn’t have to wait any longer.

[nymphaea-blue]

Oneshot - Rafayel would be good with kids.

Info : 1400+ word count, reader and Rafayel are dating, reader is referred to as a female, fluff, mentions of missing someone, perhaps hurt/comfort, small allusion to the possibility of having kids with him in the future towards the end, Tina is in fact made up and doesn't exist within Love and Deepspace lore.

Notes : Rafayel is giving me amazing older brother vibes and that's what inspired this ^^,

Rafayel would be good with kids.

Your coworker, Tara, has a younger sister named Tina that you were charged with taking care of because Tara was needed urgently at work. You didn't mind, she was your good friend and since her sister was around 7, you didn't think it would be a big issue.

The first hour or two went great, you two had fun and as it turned out, Tina was a great kid, pretty shy but smart and well behaved. Later on however, you got a call from Jenna, the situation Tara was tasked with investigating got out of hand and your team was needed ASAP to handle wanderers. 

You scrambled to find someone that would be able to watch over Tina, but everyone you thought about was sure to be busy… except one person.

“Hey cutie, missed me?” Rafayel picked up your call quickly, his tone a mix of playfulness and a hint of happiness at the fact it was you calling.

“Well yes, but I need your help… My friend left her little sister in my care but I'm urgently needed for a mission and I need someone to watch over her for a few hours. Would you be able to do it? Pleaseee?” You begged slightly on the phone, there was a slight worry and panic in your voice because time was of the essence but you were also worried about Tina.

“Hmm.. I dun know, what would I get from it, hm? My schedule is very busy, ya know.”

“I will buy you takeout and bring you more materials for paints. Please Rafayel, I need to leave soon!”

“Alright alright, I was just kidding, I would help anyways. Bring her over, I can play nanny for a few hours.”

As the doors closed and Rafayel waved last goodbyes to you as you hurriedly left, he was left alone with a little kid. Great, soo what now? He had no idea how to care for a child.

“Hey kid, what would you like to do? I got some books here, but I doubt you wanna read them.. they are pretty boring to be honest.” He asked in hopes of trying to figure out the little girl a bit more. She seemed very quiet ever since she entered the studio.

“It's okay, I got my own book, thank you sir.” Tina politely said before she went back to her book as she sat on the couch in Rafayels studio. She was a little shy, it was visible with how she tried to take as little space as possible and not make a sound, but he could work with that.

Rafayel nodded and went back to his painting for a while. He thought that perhaps giving the girl some time to warm up would be a good idea, though he kept an eye on her as well to make sure she would be alright.

After about thirty minutes, he stepped down from his high chair and went over to the nearby kitchen to prepare two glasses of water and he came back to the studio to hand one to Tina.

“What book are you reading?” He asked curiously as he started to drink his own water. 

“... It's a book about wanderers.” Tina answered shortly as she stared at the glass he gave her before taking a small sip and placing it on a nearby table.

“Really? That's quite a topic. Are you interested in fighting?

“Not really, I… wanna be smart, like my sister. She works in the Hunters Association.” 

“Ah, that's quite a noble job. My friend works there too, she does a good job protecting the city or whatever but she doesn't have as much time to meet up with me anymore.”

“What do you do while you wait for her?”

“I paint. Commissions, art for exhibitions, her.. anything, really. Doing what I like is a great distraction.”

“... I don’t feel distracted.”

“Hm?”

“I still miss her… even though I do what I like”

There it was, she opened up a little. He thought that such a subject wasn't great for a young kid, there was bound to be a reason.

“Hmm, well do you really like reading this? Or do you like doing this because it reminds you of your sister?”

“I don't know…”

“That's okay. Missing someone can be horrible, especially with all the waiting. Take me for example, I'm not the most patient person in the world so it's horrible sometimes to just stay all alone while she's somewhere else. But in the end, when my friend does return, the feeling of joy is undeniable, and I think she would like me to be happy while I wait rather than be all sad and think of her.”

“.. So what should I do?” 

“Why don't you try something else? Like painting, for example.” Rafayel said as he got up and quickly gathered two small canvases, some paints, brushes and cups of water before returning to her side and sitting on the floor in front of the couch.

“Painting is a great way to pour all of your feelings onto one place, so you can focus on what exactly you feel. Then, you can show it, using colours, symbolism, texture - anything, really.” He explained in full focus as he talked about something he knew so well as he patted the space next to him to invite Tina to sit next to him.

“So.. how about instead of missing your sister, and thinking of what she does, you think of what you feel and what you want to do?” He looked at her when he said those words and extended a paint brush if she only wanted to accept his offer.

You rang the doorbell as soon as you found yourself in front of Rafayels house. It was late by now, the mission took much longer than expected, and you felt bad about leaving Tina with Rafayel for so long while you were the one who was supposed to take care of her.

He didn't answer, so you used the key you had and opened the door yourself. After you closed it and went into the living room, you saw Tina and Rafayel talking and painting while sitting on the floor. They were so deep into the conversation that they didn't even notice you at first, until Rafayel spotted you after a few minutes.

“Ah, there you are! Started to think you forgot about us. You took your sweet time.” He teased as he stood up and walked over to you while Tina continued her artwork. She looked much happier and energetic now, you noticed.

“I'm sorry… the mission was much more intense than we all thought. I brought you some food though! And I found some pretty flowers nearby as well, I thought you could make some nice colours out of them.” You responded as you handed him the payment for taking care of Tina. You felt bad but you hoped that it would be enough to make it up to Rafayel.

“Hmm..” Rafayel inspected the flowers, before he picked one up and then tucked it into the hair behind your ear. “I think this one should stay with you, it contrasts your eyes nicely.”

His smoothness somehow always threw you off guard, even after dating for a while. A small romantic gesture yet it made your heart flutter.

“Thank you for the food though, but I ate already. We had some seafood for dinner.” He said as he took the takeout bag from your hands.

“Really? You made food?”

“Why are you surprised? I can cook if I want to, besides, someone had to feed the kid since you left her all alone.” He said as he pointed to Tina.

“She wasn't all alone, she was under your care!”

Tina, who probably heard her name being called, soon ran up to you holding her masterpiece in her hand.

“Look what I made with uncle Rafayel! Do you think she will like it?”

“I know she will love it!” You said as you patted her head. Uncle Rafayel? That was a new one, she seemed to have gotten along with him quite easily.

“Thank you for taking care of her, Rafayel. You really did me a favour.” You thanked him as Tina was getting ready to leave his studio. You were quite happy because Tina looked much more open now, you wondered how he did it.

“It was no issue, really. The kid is smart, we just talked a bit and painted, I did nothing.” He said nonchalantly, though in your eyes - he did a great job. It was endearing almost, how easily he got along with her and even without much knowledge on kids, he did his best to care for her. Perhaps in the future, he would care like this for other kids as well.

[zepskies]

All righty, here we go, diving into more of the angsty love triangle!! *rubs hands together* 😈

However, it wasn't enough to block out the sounds that were coming from your bedroom or the subtle knocking of your headboard against the metal wall between his and your room that grew louder and louder every passing minute.

Oooh my God, poor Dean. 🫣 This is literally torture for him! lol

When you'd agreed to move to the bunker Dean had insisted you live in the bedroom next to his. It meant that if there was a problem in the middle of the night, Dean would be the first to hear you scream and the first to protect you.

I had a feeling this was why he insisted on her living in the room next to his, our big protective man, but now it's coming back to bite him in the ass. 💀

He remembered how soft you felt under him, how you clung to his body as if he was the only thing grounding you to earth, how natural it felt to be there protecting you, how you sighed when he pushed your hair back from your face, and how all the soft parts of you seemed to fit perfectly against all of the hardened muscles of him.

He'd lost so many things in his life and he knew that he couldn't lose you, not without losing a piece of himself.

Sobbbiiiiiingggg -- oh Dean. 😭😭

It made Dean feel like someone had ripped at his insides with a pickaxe seeing you hurt and listening to the whimper of pain that passed through your lips. He knew that he went too far when you broke his nose, but damnit, Dean just wanted you to be safe! And you never listened to what he told you because you were just so damn stubborn and always got on Dean's last nerve.

God Dean! You can only bury your emotions under assholery and anger for so long. He can hate the fact that she's a hunter and want more for her, but he has to accept that it's her choice, and he can support her and be honest with her rather than succumbing to his assholery. 🥲🥲

But of course, his "I'm not worthy" mentality crops up as well. 🙃 Makes you want to throttle him (if in more than one way lmao)!!

The thought that he was suffering so much while trying to find her when she was in another world is also heartbreakingly on-brand for him. He'd so be tearing through every piece of lore and resource to try and get her back. 😭

"That better be a way for use to get rid of the walking Trojan ad." Dean huffs, throwing himself into the chair across from his brother. Please let them be using protection. The last thing I want is to be stuck here to raise super baby. I had enough problems with Jack.

💀💀💀 Come on now, Dean, don't be petty. 🤣

"Just listen to me for a minute." Sam points at him with the pen. "She might be stubborn and sarcastic on the outside, but she's not callous or emotionless. She hides what she's feeling deep down, just like you do. And I think that she likes Ben because he doesn't hurt her and he makes her feel wanted." But I do want her.

TELL HIM, SAM. SHAKE HIM UNTIL HIS GREEN EYES ROLL INTO HIS HEAD -- make him see how he's acting!! lol

Your eyes trace the way his dark hair has fallen into his face and over the pillow, and you reach up to push some of the strands back from his face. But with it comes the ghost of how you wanted to do the same thing to Dean earlier, that your fingertips had itched to feel his brownish golden hair in your hands.

Gahhh pain. so very pain, even though it hurts so good. 😭😭😭

Dean kissed like he wanted you to understand and that he wished to understand himself. Dean's kiss was passionate, filled with enough emotion that it left you breathless. Ben was never afraid to take what he wanted but Dean, he was almost asking, trying to let you understand, and trying to listen to what you wanted.

"I-" He swallows. "I'm sorry. I didn't know how much I hurt you. All I wanted was for you to be safe and to talk to me the way you talk to Sam." His voice is quiet, just a soft rumble, but you can hear a tremor on the edge of his words. "I didn't mean to make you hate me."

Omggg finally!! Finally Dean's being honest about how he feels without being a dick about it. 😪

But he didn't, he never did.  And in the kiss is something else, years of emotions the two of you pushed down, years of being frenemies of almost losing each other, years of ignoring what was developing between the two of you, and years of watching the other fall for the wrong person.

Ughhh such soul-rendering description, and the spice here is oh so delicious. ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

But I have to point out that the reading is having a DAY loll. Two beefcakes in one night?? 😏

(Also, I'm afraid of how Ben is gonna take this. 😬)

"Don't do me any favors sweetheart, we had fun." Ben shrugs. "That's all this was."

Oh sure, pretend she meant nothing to you to spare your deep-down man feelings. 🙄

"Stupid, fucking piece of shit!" Ben growled at the computer monitor in front of him that had a bright red ERROR message splayed across it.

LMAOO Ben vs. Technology -- I think we all know who's winning. 🤣

And Ben secretly liking therapy just so he just has someone to vent to for an hour? Be still my heart, honestly. 😭

The version of you Ben knew from Dean's universe flashed through Ben's mind again. She was more confident and outgoing, but you looked a little shy, hiding back in the cardigan and using the iPad in your hands as a welcome distraction to looking Ben in the eyes and like a shield. He thought it was cute.

OMGGGGG I'M WEEAAAAK -- and he's already clocking IT girl's cuteness, I'm dead. 😂💞 The way he's already starting to like her better? I see what you did there. 😉

"To the ends of the Earth doll." Ben winks and watches the flush of your cheeks deepen to a crimson and hears the way your heart buckles and jumps when he does.

ahaha you charmer, you. 😂 A swoon-worthy line, even if we do know how sleazy this man can be lol. She really has no idea what she's getting into with this guy, but I love to imagine that with this nicely wrapped up ending! 💕💕

Part 3: Why Is It A Big Deal?

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Dean Winchester xf!reader

POV: Dean POV, Reader POV, Soldier Boy/Ben POV

Summary: Dean's in for a rude awakening when he finds out exactly what you did when you got stranded in another universe.

Tropes: Fluff, Frenemies (Dean and the Reader), Enemies to Lovers, Awkward Situation, Multiverse Problems, ANGST, Crossover

Word Count: 12.4K (I PROMISE I DIDN'T MEAN TO)

Listen While You Read: Treat You Better By Shawn Mendes

Warnings: I'm gonna label this 18+ just to be sure. There is some swearing, Making Out, Sexual Innuendo, References to Sex, Jealousy, A little homophobia (it’s Soldier Boy), Feelings, Angst, Self Deprecating Thoughts? References to Past Sex (it happens quite a bit). Soldier Boy Being Soldier Boy (Everyone knows he’s a warning). Dean Winchester Being Dean Winchester.

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is no use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal monologue is in italics and is in first person

A/N: It's finally here! I have loved the return to this universe more than words can describe. Each of the POV's are crazy in their own way. And again, don't forget to read the fic "Stranded" by @justagirlinafandomworld that inspired me to write this series in the first place! ENJOY!

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

Dean POV

Dean leaned back on his bed at the bunker and jammed the pillow further down around his ears over his headphones. He was listening to a mixtape that he had burned forever ago, chosen because it had the loudest drum solos blaring through his Walkman. However, it wasn't enough to block out the sounds that were coming from your bedroom or the subtle knocking of your headboard against the metal wall between his and your room that grew louder and louder every passing minute.

Dean had tried his best to get Sam on his side when he proposed the idea that Ben didn't have to come back to the bunker and instead should be sent be sent back to wherever the hell he came from right then and there, but Cas was still out doing whatever it was he was doing, which meant that Ben was going to stick around for a little longer.

And it meant that Ben was finally getting his wish… you.

Dean's teeth gritted together when he heard another moan over the sound of the cymbals and felt a white hot spike of something in the pit of his stomach burn through his body.

When you'd agreed to move to the bunker Dean had insisted you live in the bedroom next to his. It meant that if there was a problem in the middle of the night, Dean would be the first to hear you scream and the first to protect you. But other than the time you stubbed your toe and Dean kicked down the door when he heard you yell with his gun drawn, there hadn't been an emergent situation that required his help.

Right now he was regretting the decision to have you live next door wholeheartedly, because it meant that he was having a front row seat to everything Ben and you were doing in your bedroom.

Dean sighed, his eyes squeezed shut, as he tried not to imagine what was happening, but he kept having flashes skate across his mind. He didn't want to see what it looked like or sounded like to have Ben's name tumbling from your lips, all Dean wanted was to hear you say his name like that and to be the one making you fall apart beneath him.

Not some asshole from another universe.

The image of you laying under him back at the school came back to him in a wave, pushing away the revulsion momentarily. He remembered how soft you felt under him, how you clung to his body as if he was the only thing grounding you to earth, how natural it felt to be there protecting you, how you sighed when he pushed your hair back from your face, and how all the soft parts of you seemed to fit perfectly against all of the hardened muscles of him.

He hadn't even made love to you and you laying there on top of you felt more intimate than any experience he'd had in his life. Dean wanted to exist in that moment with you a little longer, to savor those last few seconds of you staring up at him as if he was the only person in the world.

The memory of Ben kissing you after followed. Dean remembered the way Ben's lips roughly took from you and the way he held on to your face and it snapped Dean out of it. It hurt him more that you let Ben kiss you after Dean had been the one to save you.

Fuck.

His teeth gritted hard together so tight that he heard them grind. He hated watching you with Ben, hated watching Ben do the one thing that Dean had wanted to do for years. And Dean also hated the way that Ben treated you, as if you were something to be possessed and showed off, as if you weren't smart or anything more than just beautiful.

Dean had known from the first moment he saw you in Ellen's bar years ago that you were the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen in his entire life. You were funny, kind, sarcastic, and had a hard edge that you'd developed after years of being a hunter, but there was something else, a softer side of you that you didn't let everyone see, something hidden beneath it all that you only allowed yourself to have whenever Sam was around, but never with Dean.

It made him hate his brother a little bit, seeing how effortlessly the two of you had developed a friendship, while Dean had to practically Heimlich you to talk to him.

Dean wanted to see that side of you so badly. He wanted you to smile at him the soft way you smiled at Sam, and wanted you to laugh at his jokes or tease him playfully about his hair or about what he was wearing that day the way he'd seen you with his brother.

He tried to find reasons to be in the same room as you, drifting to sit nearby while you read or watched a movie. You always seemed different then. Your body was relaxed, open, with just a hint of a smile curving on the edge of your lips that made Dean want to stare at you for the rest of his life.

He tried to make you laugh whenever he could and tried his best to impress you, but each time he did you'd only roll your eyes and make a sarcastic comment. You didn't like him, Dean knew that, but he wished you did.

Sure he was maybe a little harsh on you sometimes, but Dean didn't want anything to happen to you, he was trying to protect you, because he knew the moment he stopped caring so much would be the moment he lost you.

He'd lost so many things in his life and he knew that he couldn't lose you, not without losing a piece of himself.

He hadn't felt like this about anyone else ever, and he didn't know what to do with his feelings. Bottling them up only seemed to hurt him more, but whenever something happened on a hunt or you tried to split away from him and Sam, he panicked and said things that he shouldn't instead of the three little words that he'd been wanting to say to you for years.

That's what happened a few weeks ago on a hunt, when you went into a house alone and faced a poltergeist that threw you across the room and into a glass cabinet. Dean had stood there yelling at you trying to tell you how stupid it had been for you to go in alone, while biting back what he really wanted to say- that he couldn't lose you. He couldn't lose you because looking at you was like watching the fireflies along a misty road at dusk, each one lighting a path in the darkness that showed him the way.

Yes he was angry, but all Dean saw was the bloody ripped sleeve of your shirt, and the way your face had contorted in pain when Sam picked you up and helped you back to the car. It made Dean feel like someone had ripped at his insides with a pickaxe seeing you hurt and listening to the whimper of pain that passed through your lips. He knew that he went too far when you broke his nose, but damnit, Dean just wanted you to be safe! And you never listened to what he told you because you were just so damn stubborn and always got on Dean's last nerve.

The truth was he hated that this was your life, hated that you were a hunter and each day you put yourself in danger, because he believed you deserved more. You deserved a normal life with someone who loved you, maybe a few kids, a dog, and a life far from the world that Dean and you knew so well.

Of course the thought of you with anyone else made Dean want to put his fist through a wall. The problem was even though Dean wanted you, he believed that you deserved better than him. You deserved the white picket fence and suburbia, not a darkened bunker underground with a man who wasn't sure he still had anything good left.

It was the reason why he didn't want to tell you how he felt, that, and Dean believed you absolutely hated him and hated being around him in the first place. It's why he buried it beneath the surface for so long.

However, when he was looking at you Dean often forgot the things that happened to him. You made him want to keep getting back up to fight if not for anyone else, for you.

But then Ben had shown up.

When you'd gotten dragged to another universe, Dean had tried everything in his power to get you back. He'd screamed and prayed for Cas so loud and so many times he went hoarse, he'd looked through almost every book he knew of to find the spell to bring you back to no avail, tried several rituals that promised results but gave him nothing, looked at his computer screen for so long that it made him cross-eyed, and drank coffee so strong it made his heart race.

But all Dean knew was that you were somewhere else alone, where he couldn't get to you or protect you, and it made him sick. He hated the thought of you alone trying to fight your way to survival in a place like the Endverse. When Cas finally came five days later and helped Dean bring you back, Dean had been so happy to see you that he'd almost hugged you, but instead he'd made an off-brand joke and you'd run into Sam's arms for a hug that made his chest tight.

Dean thought that he was having a nightmare when he saw Ben, a man who looked so much like himself, stride into the motel room confidently and kiss you. Dean was waiting for you to push him away, to tell him to fuck off, but you didn't, you liked it. And judging by the sounds Dean was hearing through the wall he could see that you wanted Ben.

All it did was piss Dean off that another version of himself got to have you and he didn't. Not when he'd known you longer and you'd only known Ben for five days.

Five fucking days. She's known that asshole for five days and she likes him. She's known you for years and she can't even stand to be in the same room with you.

The thought made Dean's heart clench in his chest. He didn't understand what Ben had that he didn’t have, he was him after all as Dean kept saying over and over to you. But Dean knew that deep down the real thing he was telling you over and over was not that Ben was him, but rather was asking the question: "why not me?"

Does she really hate me that much that she can't stand the thought of being with me? That she can stand to be with someone who looks exactly like me, but can't stay in a room with me for more than ten seconds?

Dean gets out of bed, stomps out the door, and down the hallway towards the library to try and escape the sounds coming from your room. They vibrate down the hall after him, like a flock of seagulls, mocking him all the way and doing little to ease the anger and jealousy swirling beneath his skin.

Sam is sitting in a chair with a large volume in front of him and a piece of notebook paper scribbling furiously when Dean enters the library, but he doesn't appear surprised to see his brother.

"That better be a way for use to get rid of the walking Trojan ad." Dean huffs, throwing himself into the chair across from his brother.

Please let them be using protection. The last thing I want is to be stuck here to raise super baby. I had enough problems with Jack.

Sam gives him a sympathetic look, and pushes his long hair back behind his ears. "Sorry. I'm researching a case in Kentucky, but Cas said that he'd be back in a few hours-"

"He said that ages ago! I want that asshole gone now." Dean's hand tightens on the arm of the chair, so tight that his knuckles are white.  He was happy that the library seemed to be far enough away from your room to escape the noise, but he knew it was happening, which didn’t help at all. "I don’t understand what she sees in that dick."

Sam hesitates for a moment, tapping his pen against the notebook paper.

"Just spit it out Sammy." Dean sighs.

"He might be an asshole to you, but not to her." He replies simply.

"What the fuck does that mean?"

"Well you're kinda…" Sam shrugs and leans back into his chair trying to find the words.

"I'm kinda what?"

"You’re kinda a dick to her." He finishes. "She's getting fed up with it. The other day she told me that she's been thinking about moving out and going back on her own. I've been trying to talk her out of it-"

Dean's blood ran cold. He hated the thought of you leaving again, it meant that he wouldn't know where you were or if you were alive and he wouldn't be able to make sure you were prepared for a hunt or at least be there to have your back if something went wrong- because let's face it, something always went wrong. "What? What the hell are you taking about?! Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because she hasn't made up her mind."

"But why?"

"Because ever since the first time we’ve been going on hunts with her, you’ve been rude and-"

Dean interrupts his brother with a shout. "What? Do you expect me to hold her fucking hand? We’ve seen experienced hunters get killed out there with one simple mistake! And she’s just some amateur-"

"Dean, she's not an amateur." Sam sighs as if he can't understand why Dean was being so difficult.

He was. Sam was used to it whenever the subject of you came up in front of Dean, but honestly his brother's stubborn attitude when it came to you was annoying him.

"She is!" Dean snaps back wishing that he had a beer.

"No, she’s not." Sam shakes his head. "She’s been doing this just as long as we have. You know who her mom was and you know that her mom was just as hard on her as our dad was on you-"

At the mention of their father, Dean can feel his jaw tighten, memories flashing across his mind that he wanted to forget. The cold feeling of disapproval begins to creep up his spine to his shoulders, but Dean shakes it off. "That doesn’t matter."

"I think it does."

"What does that mean?"

"Well, Dean you keep saying that he’s you, but I'm starting to think that she's you."

"You need to stop using all those hair products Sammy, they're messing with your head-" Dean scoffs.

"Just listen to me for a minute." Sam points at him with the pen. "She might be stubborn and sarcastic on the outside, but she's not callous or emotionless. She hides what she's feeling deep down, just like you do. And I think that she likes Ben because he doesn't hurt her and he makes her feel wanted."

But I do want her.

The thought rises before Dean could stop it and he wonders if you'd spent all these years thinking that he didn't want you around when it was all he thought about. Every decision he made was to try and protect you, to put you first, and the thought that you didn't see that hurt him.

"I'd never hurt her-" Dean's voice comes out a little softer and more broken than he meant it to, catching slightly on the words.

Sam shakes his head. "Not physically. But the two of you have been doing this for years and I think that she's sick of you treating her the way you do and then she met Ben. She met another version of you who appreciates her. I know that you’re a little jealous-"

"I am not jealous!" Dean says on instinct, but Sam knows the truth, he's always known the truth, and Dean knows it too.

Sam rolls his eyes at his brother. "You should talk to her. Take Ben out of it and talk to her the way you talk to other people."

"I talk to her like I talk to other people." Dean grumbles as he gets up out of his chair intent on going to the kitchen to get a beer or something stronger to take the edge off.

"No you don't. So go talk to her." Sam waves a hand in Dean's direction before his gaze drops back down to the book.

"She's kinda preoccupied." Dean mutters under his breath and the image of you and Ben tangled up in your bed makes him flinch.

Sam looks up at his brother again, sympathy flashing in his eyes. "Dean-"

"Just leave me alone Sammy."

And with that he turns and makes his way towards the kitchen, hoping that he won't be able to hear Ben and you, and wishing that you hadn't met Ben in the first place.

Reader POV

Ben mutters something in his sleep, rolling his body towards yours so close that his muscular right arm brushes against your bare shoulder. He was laying on his stomach, his face pressed into one of your many pillows, snoring softly, and taking up most of your bed.

It wasn't hard to. The full sized bed was hardly big enough for you, let alone two people, especially not someone as tall and broad as Ben. Which became more obvious when you noticed that Ben's feet were hanging off the end.

You sigh, laying on your back and staring up at the cracks in your ceiling, unable to fall asleep. You followed each one with your eyes, tracing the shapes they made like someone watching the clouds on a hill bathed in sunlight. You'd thought that after everything Ben and you did for the past two hours you'd be able to fall asleep as easily as he did, but you couldn't because your mind was awake and roaming everywhere it could.

It wasn't that you hadn't had a good time with Ben or hadn't wanted to have sex with him. Ben didn't force you into anything. You wanted to have sex with him. You had missed him and it had been a while for you, and you liked Ben. The problem was that now, after, there was an odd feeling stirring in the pit of your stomach, something that felt surprisingly like guilt.

I have nothing to be guilty about.

You chide yourself, hands curling and uncurling on the edge of the blanket the longer you stared up at the ceiling. But it was still there, bubbling up beneath the surface. Your mind kept slipping back into the memory of Dean and you in the broken auditorium.

Each time you closed your eyes you were back in Dean's arms, looking up at him while he pushed your hair out of your face and asked you if you were alright, his eyes filled with something that looked suspiciously like worry. He'd never acted gentle or caring like that before with you and you still felt odd from everything that happened.

Fuck. What is happening to me? I just spent the last two hours with Ben, I shouldn’t be thinking about anyone else but-

You sigh again and shut your eyes, but it just brings the image back to haunt you.

You hadn't had any thoughts like this about Dean, not ever, and you didn't know why now. You'd spent years thinking that he was a big jerk who hated you, but the Dean you saw earlier today was far from that.

In the past, Dean had your back a few times, but it hadn't been like earlier. He'd never held you close, covered you with his body as if he didn't care what happened to himself as long as you were safe, and he'd never brushed your hair away with such tenderness it made your heart flutter in your chest.

No. Dean has been a total dick from the moment I met him, he hates me, he-

The thought stutters to a stop when the hurt and jealousy in Dean's eyes when you kissed Ben comes flashing back through your mind.

Does he? Or did I just interpret that wrong? Maybe it was just the hatred he had towards Ben flaring but… why does he hate Ben? He has no reason to.

But despite everything that Dean had done to you over the years, you didn't hate him.

Even though he tap danced on your last nerve whenever he opened his mouth and often made you feel stupid you couldn't, not when you saw the way he cared so much for other people. Dean Winchester was selfless, he always put other people first and was willing to sacrifice himself if it meant someone else got to be happy and got to live.

You glance at the man lying in the bed next to you. Ben was handsome and strong. He possessed some of the qualities of Dean that you found attractive, but he treated you differently. It was what drew you to him when you got trapped in Ben's reality, not just that he looked like Dean, but that Ben joked with you, teased you, and he seemed to generally care about you.

Dean didn't act that way with you. At least, you'd never seen Dean act that way before today. Today was different than any other day and you wished that it hadn't been.

Ben mutters something else, and this time he leans more towards you, his arm coming up around your waist to hold you against his side. The warmth and weight of it was familiar, but it made the feeling of guilt grow larger in your stomach.

Why is this happening? I didn’t feel guilty the last time I had sex with him.

Your eyes trace the way his dark hair has fallen into his face and over the pillow, and you reach up to push some of the strands back from his face. But with it comes the ghost of how you wanted to do the same thing to Dean earlier, that your fingertips had itched to feel his brownish golden hair in your hands.

Before he'd drifted off Ben had asked you to come with him when Cas sent him back to where he was from, said that he wanted you there with him. You had an inkling that it was the first time that Ben had asked something so serious from a woman. But you weren't convinced that it was because Ben wanted to have a relationship, rather that he didn't want to be alone.

You'd be lying if you said you weren't considering it. Ben was kinder to you, gentle (in his own way), and he seemed to appreciate having you around. But there was something holding you back.

At first you thought it was Sam. He was your best friend and you didn't want to abandon him, but there was another feeling, an ache deep down that you didn't know the cause of. Other than Sam there really wasn't anything in this universe that would hold you back from going with Ben, but obviously there was, you just couldn't figure out what.

Sure Ben's reality was fucked up… yours was too. Demons and Angels duking it out for supremacy while other creatures hid under beds and in the dark to kill people or worse wasn’t ideal either. But you weren't sure what your life could look like there. There wasn't anything to hunt which meant you'd probably be dealing with supes instead and the thought wasn’t appealing. You weren't sure that you belonged in his world.

Maybe I should have asked him to stay with me?

The thought made you bite the inside of your cheek. You'd been thinking about moving out of the bunker. Yes it was the only permanent home you'd ever known, but Dean was getting on your nerves and you thought that maybe you should get a little bit of distance from him. Moving out and Ben staying meant that he could come with you on hunts, but you weren't sure that was the solution either. Ben was strong and brave, but you weren't sure that he had the precision or the delicate side you needed when approaching a hunt to do well here.

It was these thoughts that were keeping you awake and you decide to get some water to clear them.

You slowly begin to slip out from under the covers, gently moving Ben's arm off of you as slowly as you can as to not wake him before you make your way to your dresser to find a clean pair of panties and an oversized t-shirt. Ben sighs and shifts in the bed, the sheets pulling down just a little bit so you can admire the expanse of his freckled muscular back.

You'd seen Dean shirtless before once. He had come running out of his room with his gun drawn when you'd stubbed your toe on your bedside table and yelled. He hadn't put on a shirt before coming into your room, just aggressively kicked down the door wearing only a pair of hotdog pajama pants that you did mock him relentlessly for afterward. You didn't know why he'd looked so frantic when you yelled. It was just a toe after all. There wasn't anything for him to be worried about. Sam had showed up maybe ten minutes later rubbing the sleep from his eyes not worried at all.

But you'd remembered how Dean had looked shirtless. Sometimes the thought came flying into your mind at the most inopportune times, when Dean pissed you off and stuck his face so close to yours that you could feel his breath against your lips and the warmth of his skin through he air. The thought of him shirtless with his pajama pants hung so low on his hips that you could see every single hard defined muscle of his abdomen including the ones that made smart girls like you stupid.

You slipped on the clothes, but stop before you open the door to cast one more glance at Ben.

Although you knew that Ben and your relationship was more physical, there was a part of you that believed it could grow into something more if you went with him, something that you'd been wanting for a little while. Not just Ben specifically, but with someone.

Yes you were lonely, and Ben lessened the ache whenever he was around, but sometimes you wanted more than this and being a hunter didn’t help at all.

You never met anyone or tried to have a real relationship with anyone in a long time. The last permanent boyfriend you'd had wasn't a hunter, but someone you'd met in a bar after a hunt with Dean and Sam. It lasted Four months. Four months of you missing anniversaries, dates, and his birthday. He'd accused you of cheating on him with Sam and you'd found him in bed with his work partner when you'd tried to surprise him one weekend. You hadn't been surprised. Surprising was when the guy had tried to follow after you and both Dean and Sam had blocked his path and told him to "get lost." That was putting it nicely.

Sam had to hold Dean back from breaking the guy's arm when he shouted over the two of them at you that you "weren't worth the trouble." You didn’t understand why Dean was also just as pissed at the idea of the guy cheating on you as Sam.

You shake off the thought and tiptoe out of the room in the direction of the kitchen.

The bunker was silent, the metal floors cool beneath your bare feet as you walked down the desolate hallways. You glance at Dean's closed door for a moment as you pass and the feeling in the pit of your stomach tightens. A flash of the emotions on his face when you kissed Ben in the car and at the school flickers through your mind and you clench your jaw.

What the hell is wrong with me?

When you enter the kitchen you realize that you're not alone. Dean is leaning over the metal table his large hands braced on the top, his back to you, and his head bowed. A bottle of expensive whiskey sits on the counter in front of him next to a glass with the maple colored liquid inside. But the weird thing was that this wasn't the usual stuff Dean drank. This was the bottle that he had Sam hide from him for emergencies, the stuff that you'd only seen Dean drink when he was really upset and nothing else would cut it.

But what?

He turns when he hears you walk in.

You watch his eyes darken slightly as they skate over what you're wearing making your cheeks flush. You didn’t think he was still awake. If you had, you would have wore more than your favorite Metallica t-shirt that was worn soft from years of wear. Dean's gaze catches on the end of it where it hits mid-thigh, lingering a second too long, and makes something spark in your chest.

"Sorry. I was just getting some water." You clear your throat awkwardly.

"Romeo didn't get it for you?" Dean frowns as if the thought of Ben is an annoyance to him.

"No, he's asleep." You shake your head. "I thought you were asleep too-"

"Kinda hard to be sweetheart when the two of you are shooting a porno in the room next door to mine."

You feel your cheeks flush an even brighter pink. You didn't know that Ben and you were being that loud. The bed was a little squeaky, but you hadn't worried about the sound. The icky feeling in the pit of your stomach is back, the guilt rising in a wave the more you realize how much Dean heard.

Again? Why am I guilty? Ben and I had fun, he didn't force me to do anything. I wanted to have sex with him but-

"I'm sorry. I didn't know we were being that loud." You shake off the feeling and move around Dean to get a glass from one of the shelves.

"Guess he was making up for lost time huh? All those lonely months away from you fucking other women were hard I guess." Dean's words bite through the air and made your own temper flare up.

"He's not cheating on me. We weren't exclusive-"

"But you haven't been with anyone since you came back from his world."

Your hand freezes around the glass you reached for on the shelf. Why did he notice that? And why does he care?

The flicker of emotion in Dean's eyes when you kissed Ben in the auditorium comes roaring back, jealousy and hurt. It makes the guilt worse.

You let out a breath to calm the anger that wishes to bite back at Dean's comment. "Look, I know that you don't like him, but Ben isn't a bad person and even though it's not any of your business, we had fun."

You don't know why you felt the need to justify what you'd done with, but the words are out of your mouth before you can stop them. Standing here in front of Dean felt awkward, and it never had before. And it wasn't just because of what you were wearing, there was something else charging the air between the two of you. You were expecting a giant purple elephant to appear in the corner.

Dean chuckles, his eyes dark. "Did you now?"

"Yes." You reply, but you can't hold his gaze, not when he's looking at you like that.

Dean takes a long swig from the glass in front of him, his lips curling on the edges in a cruel smirk. This was the Dean you saw more often, the one that made you feel like a failure and a bother, but it was the first time that you longed to see the soft Dean who protected you from the fallen debris.

"I could hear just how much fun the two of you were having sweetheart." He continues. "But the man who isn’t a bad person toasted a woman that he slept with without batting an eye. Imagine what he'd do to you."

"A woman who was going to kill me." You say to defend Ben. "And he wouldn't hurt me."

Dean's eyes flick down to your thighs, his gaze hardening. "What do you call those?"

You glance down at the place where your shirt meets your thighs and notice the bruises. There were five on each leg and each was a perfect imprint of Ben's fingertips. They didn't hurt and you certainly hadn't felt or noticed them before Dean pointed them out.

But you knew that Ben would never hurt you. He wasn't like that.

Sure he killed that woman today, but she was crazy and she was trying to kill me and-

"He didn't it on purpose. He's stronger than us and sometimes-"

"Don't you dare make excuses for that asshole." Dean growls eyes flashing. "I don't care if he didn't do it on purpose, he still did it. He knows how strong he is and if he can't control himself he shouldn't be sleeping with you!"

"You're being ridiculous!" Ice clinks against the sides of your glass as you make your way back towards the sink.

"No, I'm not. And I want him gone!"

"Oh really?" You snark while placing the glass under the running water in the sink. "I had no idea. You've been so calm and collected since the moment Ben showed up."

Dean opens his mouth to respond, but instead huffs out a breath and pours himself another glass. The amber colored liquid splashes against the sides of the cup as Dean violently picks it up to take another drink.

An uncomfortable silence settles over the kitchen.

The water is cold, but you can't feel it when you take a sip, and you still can't quite look at Dean.

If he really is jealous, why can't he just come out and say it? Why is he being so stubborn and nitpicking someone else?

You sigh quietly to yourself and take another sip of water. The guilt was building again, prickling beneath your skin and bringing an uncomfortable sensation in the pit of your stomach the longer you stand there.

Why am I guilty? Dean being jealous has nothing to do with me and everything to do with him!

You think about going back to your room and being done with it, but you can't something is keeping you in that kitchen with Dean just as something is keeping him there with you.

"He-um-" You swallow. "He asked me to back with him to his universe." 

Dean's entire body tenses as he explodes. "What? Are you fucking kidding me!?"

"No I-"

"Are you seriously considering that?" He demands looking at you like you're crazy.

"Yes. I am." You answer him honestly. There's something hidden beneath the surface that makes you want to tell Dean this. You're not sure if it's morbid curiosity or if it's something else, something that you can't quite place, but you want Dean to tell you what he thinks.

"But why?! You've known that asshole for five days!" Dean snaps back, but you can hear something in his voice, almost as if he's holding himself back from saying something else.

Dean please just say it! Don't keep it in!

"He's not an asshole, he's just rough around the edges." You shrug continuing to make excuses for Ben and thinking about the bruises on your thighs.

"Oh please." Dean rolls his eyes so far into the back of his head you wonder how they didn't get stuck on his brain. "If I took a piece of tree bark and ran it along his arm, he'd make it smooth."

"But-"

"Sam told me that you were unhappy here, but I didn't think you would throw your entire life away to be with that asshole!"

His words make you hesitate for a moment in surprise.

Sam told him that I was thinking about leaving? Why did he tell Dean that?

"What life Dean?" You shout, throwing your arms out to gesture to the entire room. "I don't have anything here! I can't keep a relationship because I let people down. I don't know who my dad is because he walked out on my mom as soon as he found out she was pregnant. My mom died four years ago. I go to bed every night wishing for something else to happen but-" Frustrated tears were burning in your eyes now.

You didn't want to cry in front of him, but the urge to was overpowering everything else, the emotions you tried to keep down for so long beginning to curl and reform from the dark recessive parts of your mind where you buried them the night you met Dean Winchester.

"You deserve better than that asshole!" Dean shouts over you taking another step in your direction.

"Oh and what do you think I deserve Dean? Are you saying that I deserve someone like you?

Dean grits his teeth in frustration, anger blazing behind his eyes. "No I-" He finds his words. “I can’t believe you slept with him.”

"Oh good! That dinosaur. Falling back on something familiar, what a typical Dean Winchester move!" You gesture wildly with your hands sloshing water onto the floor. "I don’t understand why you’re so upset about it. We’re both consenting adults. He didn’t force me to do anything.”

You put down the cup to avoid throwing the glass at him.

“I just don’t see why you did it!” He towers over you, his body pulled taunt with his own anger and frustration.

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“You shouldn’t be sleeping around with people like him!”

Is he out of his MIND?!

"Why not?" You demand, fists curling into balls at your sides because you know that it's not safe to put them anywhere else. The anger that was flaring in your chest was starting to rival how you felt the last time that Dean and you had an argument and you broke his nose. And it had just finished healing a few days ago.

"Because he treats you like a piece of meat!" Dean shouts it so loud you can hear the frying pans hanging in the kitchen clink together

"Do you even hear yourself? I have seen you in bars picking up women after a hunt-"

You had. Countless times. The bravado Dean had when the three of you were still floating on the adrenaline that was pumping through from a hunt you'd seen first hand in the bars where Sam and you sat at a one of the high top tables watching him weave through the crowds with the sound of classic rock blaring over the crackly speakers. You watched Dean find another woman for the night, saw how he tried his best lines and got what he wanted while you sat in the motel room next to his trying to read beside a sleeping Sam and avoid the noises coming from next door.

"This is different!" He fumes.

"How is it different Dean? I want to know!"

Is it different because he's jealous? Or did I just imagine that?

You didn't think that you did.

Dean's face is bright red with the force of his anger and you're sure yours must be too given how it feels like it's on fire.

"He's always touching you or kissing you, putting his fucking hands on you!" Dean's jaw is clenched tight.  "I've never heard him give you one compliment other than how you look-"

You laugh in his face, but it comes out crueler than you meant it to. "In contrast to how many compliments you give me? Because I don't think there's been any of those."

"I compliment you." He huffs back.

"Oh really?" You scoff. "When?"

Dean is quiet for a minute. His eyes drag over you again, but this time the sweep of them bring a heat vibrating against your skin and your throat gets tight. "I like your shirt."

"HA!" You shout triumphant holding up a finger. "That's looks based."

"You didn't let me finish!" He scrambles. "I like your shirt because I like that band too and you have okay taste in music."

"Oh wooowwww. I have "okay taste in music" let me just swoon right here." You wave your hand back and forth. "Fuck you. I have awesome taste in music!"

"That's not what I-"

"And who is it that should I be sleeping around with? You?!" You roll your eyes trying to take a step away from him, but he moves to intercept you.

His fists are clenched so tightly at his sides that his knuckles are white. “I didn’t say that! Don’t put words in my mouth.”

His green eyes darken as he stares down at you, the fluorescent lights above the two of you catching the familiar hard lines of his face. Even though Dean looked like Ben, he still looked like himself in his own way. The familiar crows feet that graced under his eyes, the subtle tilt of his head, the rough stubble that pebbled over his chin and cheeks, the soft freckles, and the green eyes that you always found on you. There was a small scar just barely visible on the bridge of his nose and a few flecked on the edges of his face that made him more handsome.

You'd noticed how handsome he was in the past, but never like this. You'd never looked at Dean as other than someone who annoyed you. And yes he was annoying you now, but there was something else that you could feel threatening to explode, something you buried deep down and refused to unearth.

“I’m not putting words in your mouth Dean, I’m trying to figure out why this is such a big deal to you!”

Why is it a big deal?

“It just is!"

"Why? Because you're jealous?!" You hadn't meant to say it, but Dean's body goes taunt again.

"I am not jealous. I just don’t want you sleeping with him!”

“I think you are! And you’re not my dad Dean. You don’t get to decide who I sleep with!” You'd had enough of hearing him yell at you, of hearing him bitch about something that wasn't any of his business.

Who does he think he is? We're not together.

“That’s not what this is about-“

“Then what is it about Dean?! Why are you so hung up on something that is none of your business?!”

"It is my business!"

"How? How is it your business? Because you think that Ben is you somehow?"

"He is me!" Dean roars again and you wished he would stop saying it, because it was snagging on something in your chest.

A lie that you told yourself when you first started sleeping with Ben. You knew it. That you liked Ben because he looked like Dean and he appreciated you, that he didn't make you feel stupid, or ugly or not worth his time.

"No, he's not!" You shout back shaking off the feelings for what you hope is the final time. “Why do you care so much about this?!”

“Because I-“ Dean shouts, eyes narrowed at you. “Because I just do!”

“WHY?” You poke your finger into his chest. “I don’t care who you think you are. You don’t get to tell me who I can and cannot sleep with!"

“I’m not trying to!”

“Yes you are! And I am so sick of your bullshit Winchester. This is none of your business. None of this is. It's my life! So why don't you just take your unneeded opinion and-"

The rest of your sentence evaporates into thin air as Dean grabs your shoulders so tight you're sure they're be bruises and pulls you in for a searing kiss.

Your body is frozen in shock, the warmth of his lips against yours holding a softness that you'd never known.

Everything about this kiss is different than the ones you'd share with Ben. You knew better than to compare them, but Ben kissed like he meant to devour you. He wasn't hesitant or afraid to take what he wanted when he kissed you, but Dean?

Dean kissed like he wanted you to understand and that he wished to understand himself. Dean's kiss was passionate, filled with enough emotion that it left you breathless. Ben was never afraid to take what he wanted but Dean, he was almost asking, trying to let you understand, and trying to listen to what you wanted.

But just as he deepens the kiss you push him away and slap him across the face. The sharp sound rings through the kitchen and for a moment all you can do is stare at him shocked while the red mark on his face forms.

"What the hell was that for?" Dean shouts, but the emotion in his eyes wasn't anger, it was hurt.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?!" You shout back still out of breath. The ghost of his lips presses against yours and the taste of the whiskey remains on the tip of your tongue.

"I thought that-" He clears his throat, eyes widening.

"Thought what?"

"That you wanted me to-"

"To what? Kiss me?" The frustration was building again, because yes it had felt good to kiss him, but you hated that he was doing this now. That after years of him hating you, now when you had the possibility of being happy Dean was making this harder for you.

"Well-"

"No." You poke your finger into his chest, and this time you can't hold back the tears. They slip from your eyes, hot against your skin, as you feel every emotion that you'd kept bottled up beginning to surge up in a wave. "You don't get to do this Dean. Not now. Not after years of you treating me like shit."

Dean sighs and reaches for you, but you pull back from him. Hurt flashes in his eyes again and you can feel your own in the center of your chest. "I didn't-"

"Yes, you did. Damn it Dean, I'm not some shiny toy the two of you can fight over."

"That's not what I'm doing!"

"Then why now?" You ask in a half sob.

Dean pauses. "What?"

"Why after years of you hating me-"

"I never hated you." Dean's voice is more of a whisper than anything else.

"Oh bullshit. Yes you do!" You raise your hand to scrub at your cheeks, the tears falling quicker now.

It was the first time that you'd allowed yourself to cry in front of him, and you were fighting the urge to run back to your room. Ben was still there and you didn't know how the hell you were going to explain to you why you were crying.

"Will you just shut your damn mouth for five seconds and let me talk!?" He snaps running his hand through his hair, frustrated.

"Don't you dare tell me to shut up."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm going to break your nose again if you do!"

"You need to because I'm trying to explain-"

"Explain what? Explain that you've completely lost your mind? Explain that all the years of you undermining me, making me feel like a burden, teasing me, yelling at me, making me feel like I was stupid, and driving me absolutely insane, has just been you trying to say that you love me?!"

You hadn't meant to shout that at him. Hadn't meant to say the word love, but now it was there hovering in the air between the two of you. Dean's eyes are locked with yours and you don't think he's taken a breath since you spoke.

Because love was a little word, only four letters, but why did it always seem so heavy? How could one word have the same weight as a loaded gun? How could something so small cause so much pain and so much hurt?

"Yes." Dean looks down at the ground, not able to meet your eyes. He looks ashamed and you can't find the words to fill the silence.

Because Dean Winchester was in love with you. The man who you'd always thought hated you, who you thought wished that you were never around, and who you thought believed you to be an annoyance.

Holy shit.

"I-" He swallows. "I'm sorry. I didn't know how much I hurt you. All I wanted was for you to be safe and to talk to me the way you talk to Sam." His voice is quiet, just a soft rumble, but you can hear a tremor on the edge of his words. "I didn't mean to make you hate me."

The words strike you right in the center of your chest and it shocks you so much that you stop crying. You'd seen different sides of Dean before. Seen him angry, happy, annoyed, frustrated, sad… but Dean Winchester had never looked broken around you, not like this, and certainly not over you. Whenever something went wrong Dean would isolate himself from you in his room with a bottle of something to numb the pain. It made you feel like someone was gutting out your insides with a pitchfork.

The silence grows between the two of you again, and his head is still bowed and looking down at the floor in shame.

You exhale softly, controlled by something that you're not sure, and reach out towards Dean's face.

He flinches back from you, eyes rimmed red, looking at you suspiciously as if he believes you're going to break his nose. In hindsight, you supposed it was a reasonable fear to have since you'd done it in the past.

"What are you doing?" He asks, voice cracking. Dean's green eyes have dimmed, looking more like an aged jade pot that's sat outside in the sun for too long.

"Please shut up." You sniffle, the end of your mouth twitching into a smile, before you place your hands on the sides of Dean's face and pull him down to you.

The kiss is quick, only a brush of your lips against his to give yourself a taste and when it's done you pull back letting your hands fall to your sides. You're not sure why you did that. Maybe it's because Dean admitted to loving you and he looks like a lost puppy, but-

Dean steps forward into the space, his hands reaching towards your face, and you flinch.

“What are you-“

“Please shut up.” Dean murmurs, echoing the words you'd whispered to him moments ago.

His hands are rough and warm against your cheeks. Worn from years of carrying a gun in his hand and hard work he never shied away from. But they’re nothing but gentle against your skin as he pulls your face to his.

You could be standing on the surface of the sun and not feel as hot as you do now. A volcano could erupt and bathe you in lava and you would just scoff at it like it was a normal day, because kissing Dean feels infinite. It's all consuming. The scrub of his five o'clock shadow against your cheeks, the slide of his hands down your arms that bring goosebumps in their wake, the smell of his shampoo that you always catch when you walk into the bathroom, the nudge of his nose into your cheek, and the soft supple welcome of his lips that draw the breath from your lungs all take you somewhere otherworldly.

You couldn't stop. It was a compulsion, like magnets, like it was something you wanted to do for so long but buried it deep down to avoid the inevitable. Fueled by the belief that Dean would push you away, because Dean Winchester hated you.

But he didn't, he never did.  And in the kiss is something else, years of emotions the two of you pushed down, years of being frenemies of almost losing each other, years of ignoring what was developing between the two of you, and years of watching the other fall for the wrong person.

Dean moans softly into your mouth and picks you up, his muscular arms fitting under your legs to place you on the counter, not pulling away at all and stepping into the space between them to fit himself closer to you. Your hands come to the back of his head, tangling in the short strands at the nape of his neck, shuffling your nails through his hair in a way that makes Dean shudder and pull you tighter to his chest.

Dean pulls back from you out of breath, but rests his forehead against yours, as if any further is too far from you and he doesn't wish to ever let you go.

"I don't hate you Dean." You whisper before he can say anything. "I can't. And I was only with Ben because I thought that this could never happen because you hated me-"

Dean's lips fall against yours taking your next words with it. "I don't hate you. I never did."

"Then why?"

He sighs. "I hated that you were a hunter, that this was your life, that you'd been doing this for so long with no one helping you."

"I'm okay."

"I know that, but I-" Dean hesitates. "I shouldn't have done what I did, but I didn't think that you'd want this-"

"This?"

"Me." Dean closes his eyes leaning further against you, almost as if he can’t hold himself up.

"Why?" Your grip on the back of his neck tightens.

"Because I'm-" He tries to find the word. "I'm not perfect. I'm a jealous asshole. I've done terrible things, made you cry.” He sighs. “You deserve better."

You kiss him softly. "There is no one better. I'm not looking for perfect, I'm looking for human. There's nothing wrong with making a mistake and being imperfect. The imperfections are what make you, you." Your fingers curl into the hair at the nape of his neck. "Dean, you're not a bad person. You are the most selfless man I have ever met. And maybe you've messed up a few times, but I have too. Do you think I'm a bad person for the things I've done?"

There was a list of them that seemed to grow longer each day and it was difficult not to dwell on the things of the past. But standing here with Dean, watching the weight settle on his shoulders, while he told you that he didn't think he was enough for you made you throw it all away.

"No.”

“Do you think that I’m not deserving of love?”

“No. But-"

 You shush him. "Then don’t talk that way about the man I love."

Dean's eyes widen, but you watch the end of his lips twitch into a smile. "You love me?"

"Yeah." You whisper. "I think I always have, but I was afraid because you were-"

His mouth falls over yours so fast you don’t have time to finish the thought. "I love you too."

Your heart flutters in your chest with his words.

"Kinda hard not to." His thumbs stroke along your hip bone over the soft t-shirt sending electricity dancing along your spine.

You smirk. "You're right. I am pretty great."

"I think the word you're looking for is high maintenance." Dean smirks back at you.

"Aww… That means I'm out of your league and you're lucky to have me in your life." You giggle with a smile.

"I am." He murmurs, nudging his nose forward into yours moving in for another kiss.

Someone clears their throat from the other side of the room drawing your eye. Ben is leaning against the doorway dressed in his suit, watching where you're wrapped up in Dean's arms.

Any warm feelings you were having standing there with Dean immediately evaporate and the guilt comes roaring back. You'd forgotten that Ben was still here and you felt bad for him. You didn't want him to think that you used him.

"Ben I-" You begin to stutter, but he only shakes his head at you.

"You don't gotta explain anything doll, I know what this was." Ben smirks, but you see something flicker in his gaze for just a second before its gone.  "And I'm man enough to admit when I'm beat. Even if I don't like it."

"But-" You try to say again.

Oh this is so awkward.

"Don't do me any favors sweetheart, we had fun." Ben shrugs. "That's all this was."

Cas walks into the room with Sam at his heels, who looks much too smug when he spies where Dean has you on the counter. You push Dean back and stand up, while Dean shoots daggers with his gaze leveled at Sam.

Sam isn't phased, but chooses not to say anything.

Ben rolls himself off the doorway and walks confidently to where Dean and you are standing, extending his hand towards Dean. "You take care of her." Ben's eyes flick to you for a second before focusing more on Dean. "She's special."

The hand of guilt on your throat tightens just a little more, because somewhere you wondered if Ben really was as aloof as he seemed or if he had started to care about you a little more than he let on.

"I will." Dean's smile is forced, and you see him squeeze Ben's hand a little tighter as he does.  It only makes Ben smirk wider.

Cas begins to write the symbol on the floor taking care with each intricate detail to open the portal, but you stop him at the last minute.

"Wait." You take a step forward and hug Ben tightly. "Thank you."

"You're thanking me for fucking you?" Ben snorts throwing a smug look in Dean's direction that makes Dean bristle. "Guess I am a gift."

"Shut up." Your cheeks blaze bright red and you hear Dean growl something under his breath. "No, just thank you. For being here."

Ben hesitates. He raises his hand to your cheek, fingers tracing along your skin before he brushes away some of your hair. It was a gentle gesture from him, one that you weren't accustomed to. The emotion in his eyes shifts to something else, but he hides it with a smirk. "You're welcome sweetheart."

"Maybe you'll meet the me from your reality." You say, because you're not sure what else you can say, not when Ben is looking at you like that.

The entire situation was again reaching soap opera proportions and there was only so much you could take before you drove your car off a cliff.

The truth was, you did like Ben. You thought he was attractive, bold, strong, but there was always something a little gentle that lurked under the surface he never let anyone else see.

But you loved Dean. He understood what it was like to be a hunter, understood what it was like to not be able to live up to someone's expectations, and he loved you. You couldn't see a life with Ben, but you could see one with Dean. Ben didn't belong in your world and you didn't belong in his.

Ben's smirk twitches. "Maybe. But she won't be the same as you doll."

Dean clears his throat and steps forward to pull you back into his chest possessively. "I think your ride's leaving." You don't have to look up into his face to know he's frowning.

Ben chuckles. "You know what kid? You're alright." His eyes flick back to yours. "You give me a call if you get bored with him."

"She won't." Dean snaps. “And don’t call me kid.”

Ben only laughs at him and steps closer to Cas as he begins to finish the ritual and when the portal finally opens, Ben goes through without looking back.

And you don’t feel guilty anymore, because you knew that Ben understood.

"Finally." Dean breathes a sigh of relief that makes you snort, dropping his head to your shoulder. It was so casual that you had to remind yourself that Dean loved you and you loved him.

Sam clears his throat. "Hey Cas will you help me with something in the library-"

"What do you have to do in the library?" Cas frowns at him confused.

"Just something come on-"

"But why-"

"CAS!" Sam shouts casting an obvious look in the direction of where Dean and you are standing.

Cas looks at the two of you. "Are they coming with us to the library?"

Sam huffs out a frustrated breath and grabs Cas by the back of his trench coat to drag him out of the kitchen so Dean and you can have a few moments alone.

You snort at the confused look on Cas's face when Sam drags him out, before you turn your body in his arms to look up into Dean's handsome face. "Do you have any idea how ridiculous it is to be jealous of yourself?"

"I thought he wasn't me?" Dean smirks, his eyebrow arching with his tease. His fingers are resting resolutely on your hips, thumbs softly trailing in circles.

"He is a little bit." You admit defeated. "But don't look so smug Winchester."

"I think I'm allowed to be a little bit." His smirk grows and he leans his face down to yours. Instead of feeling angry at the appearance of his smirk it only makes you smile.

Standing here in the aftermath made you see Dean in a different light, made your heart buckle and jump in your chest the longer you stood there in the kitchen basking in the warmth that began to bloom in your chest.

"Maybe…" You gently touch the front of his buffalo print flannel, smoothing the fabric beneath your fingertips. It looked good on him, very little looked bad on Dean.

"Do you regret staying with me?" He mutters.

"What?" You glance back up to see his face and notice that he's not smiling, he's frowning at you, and his eyes aren't as bright.

Dean clears his throat. "Well you seemed like you were really going to miss him and-"

He doesn't get to finish his sentence. You throw your arms around his neck and pull him back down to you, putting you everything you have into the kiss, hoping that Dean can feel how you have no regrets staying with him, that all you want is him.

"Dean Winchester." You breathe, moving your hands to cup his cheeks so he can't look away from you. "I do not regret staying with you, because I love you." You pull him as close to you as you can, his warm hands splayed over your back. "This is where I belong." You kiss him on the tip of his nose. "And this is where you belong. With me."

Dean's eyes warm the longer you hold his gaze. "I'm starting to believe you."

"Anything that I can do to convince you?"

"I can think of a few things…"

Ben/Soldier Boy POV

"Stupid, fucking piece of shit!" Ben growled at the computer monitor in front of him that had a bright red ERROR message splayed across it.

It had been two days since he'd left your reality, and he was trying his best to shove away the disappointment at the fact that you hadn't decided to come back with him. It wasn't that Ben wanted more than what the two of you had, it was that he liked having someone to talk to or try to talk to, and you were a good listener.

He didn’t like opening up to people, but there was something about you. He could trust you and Ben hadn't found anyone he could trust since he got back from Russia.

Ben also wasn't about to admit that he was lonely, he had plenty of women who were eager to warm his bed, but there was something about you that always made him feel different. He wasn't sure what that was exactly.

He'd also be lying if he said that he had wanted to explore it a little more if you'd come with him to his reality. The thought of you staying with him for an extended period of time in his apartment hadn't been unwelcome. Ben had never allowed other women to stay more than a day, but you… Ben would have let you stay as long as you wanted to.

Fuck.

He knew that he wasn't in love with you, but Ben knew he liked having you around. He liked being friends with you and he liked fucking you.

And yes he was disappointed that you had chosen Dean instead of him, but at the same time Ben didn't blame you. You had a history with Dean and when you'd been forced into Ben's reality, you'd talked to him a lot about Dean. Ben knew that you liked Dean more than you cared to admit.

But there was still an unwelcome feeling in the pit of his stomach that Ben wasn't accustomed to.

Ben huffed out a breath to push away the thoughts, while looking at what was left of the keyboard on his desk. The keys were scattered across the wooden top like bits of confetti, broken easily underneath his large fingertips when he'd tried to write an email

When he'd come back from Russia, Ben had taken a job working for the Department of Supe Affairs, but he was "grounded" due to the "anger issues" that he swore he didn't have, and because he didn't listen to Butcher whenever he gave him an order.

I don't need to follow orders. I'm Soldier Boy! I should be giving the orders!

Basically it meant that he was stuck on a desk indefinitely until Annie January, the new department head, released him. She'd also ordered that Ben go to company mandated therapy sessions once a week. He'd refused to go, but after Annie threatened him with termination of his contract, which meant that Ben would have gone back to being someone who "looked like someone who used to be famous," he'd gone to therapy.

And he refuses to admit this to anyone… but he liked it. Someone who was paid to listen to him bitch for a whole hour about whatever pissed him off and actually kept their trap shut was just what he needed.

Sometimes it reminded him of when he would talk to you, but there were still things that he refused to tell anyone and some of those things he had told you.

Ben ran his hand through his hair frustrated at his predicament. He would have liked to go into the field and take out some of his frustration on another supe, but Annie refused to give.

Ben didn't like listening to women, but even he had to admit Annie had a set of brass balls and he respected her for it. She didn’t take shit from anyone and especially didn't listen to Ben's bitching over why he should be in the field instead of being chained to a desk.

"Oi you all right mate?" Butcher calls and Ben can hear the shit eating grin without looking up from his computer screen.

The error message was still displayed in bright red letters, mocking him.

Ben knows that Butcher doesn't give a shit, and is probably about to start teasing him about his inability to adapt to modern day technology.

It wouldn't be the first time.

"Don't you have something better to do? Like fucking that little bitch that Annie is ploughing?" Ben spits back, clicking on the mouse but all it does is bring up another error message in another language.

"Oh mon ami, that doesn't look good." Frenchie walks by to stare at the computer screen that has now gone slightly fuzzy.

"I don’t think that's going to fix it mate." Butcher laughs. " But I called IT."

"I don’t need any of those four-eyed fucks helping me!" Ben snaps turning to narrow his eyes at Butcher.

He's holding a white cup of tea, wearing his usual long trench coat and Hawaiian shirt, with the shit eating grin that Ben knew Butcher was going to have when he looked up.

The last thing Ben needed was some nerd telling him everything that he did wrong. He was already on a first name basis with the director of the IT department, who was a little weasel of a man and who no longer picked up the phone when Ben called to yell at him.

"I think you're gonna want to listen to this particular four eyed fuck. She's new." Butcher gloats. "But don’t say I never did anything for you Soldier Boy."

"What the fuck does that mean?" Ben shouts at Butcher's back, but he's already gone.

Ben turns back to the error message that has begun to flash an even brighter red and now has a countdown.

"Fuck, fuck fuck-" Ben growled and to remedy the situation he puts his fist through the computer screen. It makes a high pitched electrical popping sound, showering his desk in sparks, while the overhead lights flicker, before the screen goes completely black.

Ben was not stupid, but he was a little slow when it came to modern day technology. He was doing better than he had initially, but it was taking him a longer time to understand using his desktop computer at work than his cell phone.

"Hi, I'm from IT. Mr. Butcher called and said that you might need a little help." The voice was small and tentative, coming from somewhere on Ben's left.

"I don't need any help. Especially not from a fucking four-" Ben started to growl, but then he looked up and the words died in his throat.

Because the person standing next to his desk was you.

This version of you looked different. Ben was used to seeing someone in old band t-shirts, worn blue jeans, and flannel shirts, someone who carried themselves confidently and had a hardness surrounding their outer exterior that simply said "don't fuck with me."

But this version of you was softer and a little gentle. Your hair was longer and pushed back from your face by a simple black headband, you were wearing dark framed glasses, an oversized cardigan sweater that covered a simple pair of blue jeans, a striped blouse, and a pair of dark blue converse. The converse made Ben smile. He hadn't seen anyone wearing Chuck Taylors in a little while and it was a welcome sight, something from the past that he actually recognized.

The version of you Ben knew from Dean's universe flashed through Ben's mind again. She was more confident and outgoing, but you looked a little shy, hiding back in the cardigan and using the iPad in your hands as a welcome distraction to looking Ben in the eyes and like a shield.

He thought it was cute.

As much as Ben liked the version of you he knew who didn't shy away from anything, Ben found himself smiling at this one. You were definitely more soft spoken and a little less confident, but Ben could see a sweetness and sincerity in your eyes that he hadn't come across since he came back to the US.

It was the thing that always made him trust the other version of you, the part of him that made him want to tell the other version of you things that he hadn't told other people.

"I'm sorry." You say, even though you have nothing to be sorry about. "I-"

"No. I'm sorry." Ben clears his throat awkwardly and for the first time in a long time he feels nervous. He wasn't sure why that was, not to mention he never apologized to anyone, ever, but he didn't want to scare you away.

"It's okay." You give him a soft smile. "Computers can be frustrating, but sometimes it’s better not to put your fist through the screen."

Ben chuckles. "Probably not my best work."

You shake your head, a wider smile on your face, the motion of it sending the smell of your perfume over him, something floral and a little old fashioned. You look at the remnants of the computer and bite the inside of your cheek deep in thought.

Ben found himself tracing the furrow of your brows and the scrunch of your nose. You were beautiful in every reality to him.

"Well, Mr. Soldier Boy I don't think-"

"Please call me Ben." He interrupts.

Ben wondered if you were this shy all the time and if you'd be just as shy if he took you to bed. He wanted to find out.

Ben had slept with many women in his lifetime and he was usually drawn to women who were more confident and outgoing, sure of themselves, but there was something about your shy attitude that Ben found attractive.

"Ben." You say it in the soft voice of yours, cheeks flushed a little bit as if you're embarrassed to say it. "I don't think that there's anything I can do for this." Your hand waves over the computer. "But I can go talk to my boss and tell him you need another one."

"I'll go with you." Ben stood up.

He didn’t want to let you out of his sight, not when a part of him worried that you weren’t really there or you would evaporate into nothing before his very eyes.

"Oh, it's okay. You don't have to-" You stammer, shaking your head, and not quite looking at him as if making eye contact was a little harder for you.

"I want to." Ben smiles at you. He hears your heart beat quicken and can hear the small intake of breath you have when he smiles. "He's an asshole and I don't want him to chew you out for something I did." Ben explains.

It was partly true. The guy was an asshole. Not to mention, Butcher had said it was your first day and Ben wasn’t going to stand by and have the head of the IT department screaming at you when you had done nothing wrong.

"Oh." You clear your throat, cheeks blushing that cute pink color that makes Ben smile wider. "Well if you'll just follow me."

He hadn’t met someone like you in a long time. And even though he liked the other version of you, Ben was starting to like this one more.

"To the ends of the Earth doll." Ben winks and watches the flush of your cheeks deepen to a crimson and hears the way your heart buckles and jumps when he does.

And the longer he stands there watching you blush, Ben begins to feel an odd feeling flicker in the pit of his stomach racing up into his chest that he’d never felt before and for the first time in a long time Ben was curious to see where it could lead.

A/N: Alright we made it to the end and everyone got a happy ending! Thank you again everyone for all the love and support while I was writing this mini-series 💗

Reveal of the Poll:

🥫: Meeting the reader from Ben's Universe in a grocery store.

💻: Meeting the reader from Ben's Universe in the IT department.

Personally I liked the IT more, and the problem is now I really like the shy reader with Ben. They are so cute and now I'm hyperfixated on Ben with a shy reader so we'll see where that goes 🤣

Thank you so much for reading! As always likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated, but are not required. I love hearing what y'all think!

Taglist For It's Not A Big Deal:

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[koiiiji]

Hiiii

Can you do a senrio where Busan crew heads babysit jinrang's daughter? 😶

Also I love your writings

little boss

author's note ; hiiii! thank u hun <3 HELL YES I CANNNNN!! i bet uncle Baek gonna be best nanny to Jinrang's kid, and since whole busan highly respect him, they would melt if they find out about daddys lil princess🥺🥺

summary ; dad have some busy time after long absence in prison, but thankfully you have a lot of uncles who are happy to look after their boss kid.

Baek Sang had never been more honored in his life.

Jinrang had barely stepped out of prison, but he was already back to work, making up for lost time. and while he handled things, he left his most precious treasure in Baek’s care.

his daughter.

he stood in Jinrang’s office, arms crossed as he leaned against the wall. across from him, the king of Busan was watching him with sharp, expectant eyes.

“she’s six, Baek. six.” Jinrang’s tone was calm, but there was an undeniable weight behind his words.

Baek straightened his posture slightly. “of course, hyungnim. i understand.”

“do you?” Jinrang narrowed his eyes. “because i’m trusting you with her for the day, and i swear, if she so much as scrapes her knee, i’m taking yours in return.”

Baek swallowed. “i totally understand the weight of this task, boss.”

Jinrang glanced down at you. you were standing beside him, tiny hands gripping his pant leg, eyes peeking up at Baek with caution.

“she’s a little shy,” Jinrang muttered, ruffling your hair gently. “give her some time. she’ll warm up to you.”

you blinked at your father, hesitated, then nodded ever so slightly.

Baek Sang prided himself on being a lot of things: Jinrang’s right-hand man, a formidable force in Busan, and an expert in handling business matters. but now he gonna be something far more important.

Jinrang sighed. “be good, kid. i’ll be back soon.”

and with that, Baek was officially on babysitting duty.

he gonna be an uncle. the best uncle. in the world.

⠂⠁⠈⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂

Baek practically vibrated with excitement as he held your tiny hand, like a proud father, while driving down the streets of Busan.

“i promise, little lady,” he declared, grinning ear to ear, imagining how good he gonna spoil you, “you’re gonna have the best day ever. uncle Baek has a whole plan — candy, arcade, more candy, maybe some ice cream...”

you blinked up at him. “dad said no too much sugar.”

Baek scoffed. “yeah, yeah. but what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him, right?”

and before he could continue spoiling you, his phone buzzed. a meeting. with other affiliates heads in Busan.

Baek’s face fell. but… this was his work too. and Jinrang trusted him to handle both.

which meant… he was bringing you along.

⠂⠁⠈⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂

the second Baek stepped into the meeting room with you in his arms, the entire room froze.

men who were feared across Busan — leaders of other affiliates, powerful men who could end someone’s life with a snap of their fingers — suddenly looked like they had forgotten how to breathe.

you peeked out cautiously from Baek’s shoulder, tiny fingers gripping his jacket. the number of unfamiliar faces was overwhelming, and you instinctively curled in closer to him, pressing your cheek to his chest.

Baek smiled warmly. “aww, what happened to all that confidence, huh?”

silence.

then, a cough..

then —

“who’s this?” one of them finally asked, staring at the child in disbelief.

Baek rolled his eyes, on the one who asked such stupid question. “this is the boss’s kid.” puffed up his chest with pride, “i’m babysitting.”

a pause. then another.

the fearsome, battle-hardened leaders of Busan’s underworld stared at you, the little girl, who hid behind Baek’s leg, peeking out at them with wide eyes.

a pause. and in a second atmosphere changed at 180 degrees.

“oh my god, she’s adorable.”

“she looks just like little princess.”

“does she like sweets? i have candy.”

Baek watched in utter satisfaction as the meeting room transformed from a den of criminals into a daycare full of cooing uncles.

“Baek hyungnim,” one of the heads cleared his throat and whispered on Baek ear. “with all due respect, it’s kinda hard to focus on business when the boss’s kid is staring at us like that.”

he glanced at you. you were indeed surrounded and you were staring — big, hesitant eyes watching men bustling around you from behind Baek's jacket.

Baek had barely opened his mouth when one of the older gangsters jerked his chin toward five young figures.

“you guys. babysitting duty.”

all five froze and exclaimed in unison, clearly unsatisfied with such tasks, “WHAT??!!”

“keep the little boss entertained. that’s an order.”

Hyunjin Jin sighed. “this is not in my job description.”

Shin Arim groaned. “we’re crew heads too, not daycare workers.”

Min Jihoon shrugged, as if it was not a big deal at all.

“it’s just for a while,” Kang Jinchan added

Park Hyukjin decided to just stay silent.

Baek sighed and shot a murderous glance in the direction of the young guys.“if she cries, all of you are dead.”

the disciples saluted in unison. “yes, sir!”

⠂⠁⠈⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂

at first, you were quiet.

the five young men sat around you, unsure of how to make you comfortable. you sat stiffly, glancing at them with hesitant eyes, still gripping your plushie like a shield.

Jinchan, grinned cheerfully. “so, kid, your dad’s the boss, huh?”

you nodded.

“that means you’re kinda the boss, too.”

your grip loosened just slightly. “…really?”

“of course,” Shin, who sat before you in lotus pose, chimed in. “you’re the little boss.”

that made you smile a little. the guys all exchanged looks — they were getting somewhere.

Min Jihoon leaned forward, “hey, young lady, do you wanna draw?”

you hesitated, but when he held out a small notepad and some pens, you slowly reached out and took them.

the ice had been broken.

from that moment on, your shyness began to fade.

⠂⠁⠈⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂

and of course what started as quiet babysitting quickly turned into chaos. boys shouldn't have pampered you way too much.

Shin let you do his hair, sitting patiently as you carefully tied tiny ponytails all over his head.

“i’m making you pretty,” you declared. the others died laughing while Shin sighed and smiled in defeat. “of course you are.”

Jihoon, meanwhile, made the mistake of letting you have a pen. he was next victim.

“ooh, you don’t have a mustache!” you realized.

“…y-yeah?” Min already understood where you getting, slowly rising up his hands, in weak attempts to stop you... or at least hide his face.

“yeah!! but my daddy have!! so let’s fix that.”

before he could hide his face in hands, you had already drawn a curly mustache on his face.

Kang Jinchan, thought he’d impress you, by flashing his champion’s belt, because you definitely going to tell your father about what cool guys you met today, so the very next day, Jinrang-hyungnim may notice him or even commend him!!

“check this out, little boss. i earned this.”

you tilted your head. “what is it for?”

“for being the toughest guy in the ring.” Jinchan even started flexing his arm muscles.

you nodded thoughtfully. immediately a lot of questions were arisen and spinning through your head. wasn't your daddy the strongest? in Busan? no! in the whole world!! and then, without second thought, out of nowhere — WHAM! — you kicked guy with belt right in the knee.

“OW—! Shit!” muffled curses left his lips, but he was loud enough that you and whole room could hear him.

and the room fell into silence.

you gasped. “shit?”

from across the room Baek’s soul left his body.

Jinchan, still clutching his knee, looked horrified. “i didn’t mean to say that —”

but it was too late. you were now testing the word.

“shit. shit? shiiit.”

with two big steps Baek crossed the room and grabbed Jinchan by the collar, quietly hissing each word right in his face. “you. absolute. fucking. moron.”

and now others scrambled to distract you. Shin let you add more ponytails. Min let you give him eyebrows to go with his fake mustache. Hyunjin Jin even let you color in his tattoos. Jinchan, desperate for redemption, let you climb onto his back for a piggyback ride.

even Hyukjin, who left for a moment, returned, and now he had three massive plushies in his arms. “bribery successful.” he muttered to Baek.

your eyes lit up. “WOW!”

and just like that, the curse word was completely and successfully forgotten. the disciples collapsed in relief.

Baek exhaled. crisis averted.

⠂⠁⠈⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂

bonus ;

when Jinrang came to pick you up, he was exhausted but happy to finally see his little princess.

“she is safe and happy,” he said, exhaling. “thank you Baek, don't know what i would do without you…” Jinrang's eyes never left your sleeping figure, stroking your hair softly.

Baek smiled confidently and came closer to his boss, patting on his shoulder.. “hyungnim, i told you. best uncle.”

Jinrang huffed, scooping you into his arms. “alright, young lady. let’s get you home.”

you sleepily curled up against him, plushies still clutched in your hands.

and then, just as Jinrang was about to leave, you mumbled drowsily —

“…shit.”

Jinrang turned back slowly, eyes glowing with danger.

Baek paled. “i can explai —”

cracking knuckles were the last thing Baek heard that night...

[acexsmhking]

hello!! Can you write a headcanons/oneshot post of (separate) ticci toby, eyeless jack, and/or jane the killer dating a piercing obsessed! Reader? Ppl always say lots of piercings r unattractive :(( but omgg i love ppl with lots of piercings, theyre so lovely! Thank youu:D

𝐒𝐭𝐢𝐠𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐩𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐞

(𝗻.) 𝗔 𝗽𝗲𝗿𝘀𝗼𝗻 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝘁𝗮𝘁𝘁𝗼𝗼𝘀 𝗼𝗿 𝗯𝗿𝗮𝗻𝗱𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀

: ̗̀➛ Piercing!Reader x Shared Headcanons

(Toby, Jack, Jane)

Summary: GN!Reader with love for piercings/having multiple being in a relationship with Toby, Jack and Jane. How would they react?

Warning(s): None! Mostly just fluff, FEM & TRANSF in mind for Jane

・❥・ Toby

First of all, Toby himself is covered in a lot of facial piercings so he is not one to judge! He loves piercings, especially on himself (egotistical asshole knows how sexy he is), so if you love them just as much him, he immediately just yaps with you

Do not trust him to give you one.

Now if you really like piercings but hate needles? He definitely bullies you about it some but understands. Since he can’t feel pain he can feel a lot of the pressures/intrusions that the pain usually covers up and it can weird him out

He plays with your piercings like a lot. Mostly nervous fidgeting type things

OMG DO YOU HAVE TO STAY ONTOP OF HIM IF HE GETS A NEW ONE, he is so bad at taking care of them himself but he’s so good about taking care of yours. Little weirdo

Now, Toby can be mean during fights so sometimes if he’s close enough he’ll twist one. Petty little shit. But he is quick to apologize, he just likes winning arguments

・❥・Jack

Jack like.. literally cannot see. So he genuinely just thinks your piercings are apart of you. Like he really doesn’t remember things of humans and so he completely forgot about minuscule things like piercings

He does like licking them tho, that nice metal taste

Weirdo.

Once you actually explain it he’s a little perplexed. Since he’s an apex predator usually they associate things like anything piercing you as hindrance to hunts

But whatever makes you happy!

Since Jack does live in a lot of holes/caves you probably are gonna wanna let your piercings heal a lot or just clean them a lot more so the dust and dirt doesn’t infect/irritate them

If you wanna give Jack piercings well.. it’s gonna have to be like a really protected spot. He’s running around and climbing lots of trees not to mention how many people actually do try fighting a 6’10 demon..creature…thingy. So you don’t want him getting hurt

That and his healing factor literally is just too good at its job. Damn powers. But hey you can get those little fake ones! He’ll try to keep them on but…

・❥・Jane

Again! She doesn’t judge. She thinks they’re pretty cool, now she can’t have any cause.. well.. she’s a little crispy but! She will wear matching fake ones with you

Definitely best person to get a nice piercing with as she helps you clean and stay on top of them

She bought you a little machine thingy to clean them for you<3

She does actually have her ears pierced but she can’t wear them for long any more :(

She is also stupidly good at finding missing earrings, piercings and jewelry like omg. Like I mean fucking assassin’s creed eagle vision type shit

She’s good in general at findings things really

Omg does she love kissing your piercings <3 she especially likes nose piercings, JANE IS A NOSE KISSER IDC WHAT ANYONE SAYS

my romantical wife<3

She will buy rings and necklaces to match your piercings too! She’s pierced with you in spirit ya know

: ̗̀➛ hehe i loved this. I gotta write Jane and the others their own general headcanons soon, I’m just lazy. Also tell me why Chapter 3 is not plotting how I want it too like come on brain work, anyways I loved this little ask! I have got to start writing more of other characters too I have like… 18 drafts of all sorts of shit. Impulsive writing — Ace

[lumdays]

please notice me, prince!! ♡

au by @alli-ily << i've been meaning to join this au for a little while now hehehe

*click for better quality LMAO,,, sorry i have no idea why it's so fucked up but i did transcript the important stuff down here if you want

sir? dame? siyun (aka azul's worst nightmare)

"though they are very capable, they're quite unpopular with nobles as they tend to disobey even direct orders if they figure that there is a more efficient way to do things. they're also a little too honest for high society's taste."

siyun hails from far away lands, practically another world (hehe nod to them being a yuu). it is known that they have two younger siblings and that their parents are both well but it seems that they are no longer in contact.

...ashengrotto despises them (they give him SO many headaches, FREE HIM 🙏🙏)

some more stuff utc,, ARGHHH I BRAINROT OVER AUS LIKE THIS SO FAST💔💔💔 it's the evil manhwa lover in me

ALRIGHT SOOO.... the reason why i keep mentioning azul is because In My Head (please correct me if i'm wrong/you don't want me making up stuff HELPPP i didn't know what to go off aside that there's a bunch of kingdoms and nobles), he was accused/is suspected of embezzlement and siyun was dispatched to monitor him.

...they might as well be the bane of his existence honestly. embezzlement is likely the one crime he has yet to commit but with a highly competent knight keeping a close eye on him, it's gotten a lot harder for him to do anything that is remotely not outstanding-member-of-society material, which pisses him off to no end (...that's kinda just his own assumptions though LMAO, siyun does NOT care that much about the matters of some rich merchant,, unless someone gets hurt that is).

ANYWAYS. this made me think i should probably write down how they feel about lady ariya and prince shin

starting with lady ariya

siyun truly admires her resolve to clear her family's name. but they also can't help but feel something akin pity for her, the path she chose for herself will be long and arduous, especially alone—very few manage to walk out, head held high and pride intact. still, she seems like a promising young lady and siyun is a hopeful person, "i will assist you should you ever call for me."

prince shin (@liyuviq)

humble beginnings, big responsibilities. it's a bit presumptuous, but siyun sort of relates to the illegitimate prince. perhaps not fully—they never experienced Suddenly Being A Royal and sincerely hoped they never would, even in another universe. however, they can relate to the whiplash, the struggle to cram into a few months—no, weeks—everything the other nobles learned over the years, the stares, the whispers... they remember how it all felt, and when they look at their highness shin, they can only hope that they will rise through it all. "then again, i do know i am not your highness. perhaps you don't feel even a fraction of the dread that filled me back then—i would be very glad if so."

i hope i'm not overstepping 👉👈,, aghh also open for interactions for anyone interested hdhdhhdshd, i haven't checked the tag yet HELP

as for the hypothetical target of their affection,,, i fear it may be butler jade 💀💀........... I'M A SUCKER FOR BUTLER X KNIGHT ARCHETYPE 💔💔💔ALSO I BRAINROT OVER YUNDE 2MUCH💔AH AND quick lore rundown

i imagine their knighthood still stands in another empire—or kingdom,,, sorry my knowledge of the world building here is a little vague HDUAJHF. anyway the point is that they are skilled enough for the royal family themselves to take them under their heavy golden wing—until the ashengrotto accusations and they're given bits and pieces of their freedom back.

I'M REALLY SORRY MOOTS THIS IS JUST ME YAPPING ON AND ON..... but like this au's really sick‼️‼️‼️ tags - @heyhellohihowareyou @elenauaurs @distant-velleity @twistedwonderlandshenanigans @skriblee-ksk @sickle-stick @puowei @jadelover69 @tixdixl @nemisisnemi @angelwishess @theleechyskrunkly @chillygourami @bunniehunn @cheerleaderman UUUH DID I FORGET ANYONE.....