#it's probably not worth thinking too much about it

[canonicallyginger]

The way ISAT starts at the end of the story is so effective for the themes of loneliness and isolation. At the point in the story the party is at, they're as close to each other as they've ever been. It's the last two days they're going to spend as a team. But they're also all so closed off to each other. Mirabelle is quietly hating herself for not wanting to change as much as she thinks she's supposed to. Odile still hasn't found what she's looking for, and she's probably beginning to think she never will. Bonnie refuses to look at Siffrin's face long enough to think about what happened to his eye. Isabeau can't work up the courage to open up to Siffrin about how he feels. And Siffrin doesn't even know anything about his own past! They deflect with jokes even in their own thoughts!

Yes, they're already a family by the start of ISAT. But the only one who actually expresses all of their emotions is a child who's still trying to navigate what exactly they're feeling. The only one who constantly pays attention to how his friends are feeling is secretly too shy to express how much he cares to the one person who needs it the most. The real hero of the story doesn't think she's grown as a person at all. The smartest person there is also really bad at recognizing when something she's said offends one of the people she's come to care for. And then there's Siffrin, who doesn't actually believe that any of his friends will remember him, and maybe he's afraid he won't remember them either. They think Isabeau is just nice. Baseline behavior for anyone he talks to. They understand Odile better than anyone in the party, but they misunderstand her style of banter just feels like she's being brutally honest. He cares deeply about Mirabelle and can't express it as anything but teasingly making sure she's alright. And he thinks Bonnie hates him because losing an eye to save a kid was something he sees as completely worth it, and he doesn't see how much that terrifies them.

If there wasn't a time loop, they'd all go their separate ways at the end and they'd all feel like shit about it. Bonnie would never forgive themself for being the reason Siffrin lost an eye. Isabeau probably wouldn't go home to Jouvante because none of his fellow defenders were willing to risk their lives to defend Vaugarde. Mirabelle would go on a pilgrimage and fail to recognize how much she's changed once again. Odile would return to Ka Bue, still feeling like she doesn't fit in there. And Siffrin would be alone again, until one day, they wouldn't even remember the faces of the people they'd come to love.

[skiesuconn]

every single morning with you

paige bueckers & azzi fudd യ word count: 15k യ notes: i’ve been thinking a lot about whether this was worth posting, but i feel like i’ve finally settled on the right direction. i just hope it resonates—whether it makes you laugh, relate, or just pause for a moment to think. i appreciate every single one of you who takes the time to read my work. it truly means a lot. if you feel like sharing your thoughts, i’d love to hear them—anything at all. there’s a song at the end of the chapter, and if you want, you can play it as you read. it adds something, i think, a way to really sink into the moment. thank you for being here. it means everything. i love you.

 okay so, first off, aubrey? certified menace. absolute villain origin story in the making. because paige is waking up—no, being violently resurrected—by the sun punching her directly in the face. no warning, no warm-up, just straight-up ultraviolet betrayal. and aubrey? nowhere to be found, because aubrey is never here for the consequences of her crimes.

paige groans. shifts. and immediately, warmth—memory—clings to her skin. azzi. the ghost of her touch still lingers, a sunburn without the burn, just golden and soft and everywhere. she would stay in this hazy post-sleep fog forever if the sun wasn’t currently committing war crimes against her retinas.

still squinting, she gropes blindly for her purple glasses, knocking over what is possibly a water bottle, possibly a rogue phone charger, and possibly her own dignity. finally, she finds them, shoves them onto her face, and the world sharpens into something less aggressively blurry.

and then she sees it.

a note. small. slightly crinkled. sitting there on the nightstand like it knows it holds meaning. and it does. because there’s a kiss print on the corner, smudged just a little, like azzi pressed her lips to the paper and thought about something else for a second before pulling away. paige thinks she might die. just a little. in, like, a poetic way.

she picks it up, reads:

“nika really needs to get checked out with that snoring issue, i went to stretch my knees by the shore. i love you x, also i stole your slides.”

paige lets out the kind of laugh that’s mostly air, because her chest is full of something she refuses to name before 8:30 a.m. she kisses the lip print because what else is she supposed to do? not kiss it? like a fool?

somewhere in the background, nika is absolutely violating the peace treaty of the morning by blasting “price tag” by jessie j. paige had momentarily forgotten. it is now, unfortunately, very remembered.

she sighs. dramatically. folds the note neatly and tucks it into the pocket of her hoodie, where it will probably stay for the next five to seven business days before she finally admits she’s keeping it forever.

she swings her legs over the bed, feet meeting the floor. reaches for her slides before—

right. azzi stole them.

that little thief.

paige grins.

if she wasn’t already in love, she would be now.

paige stares at the ceiling for a solid thirty seconds, blinking slow, like that’ll somehow reset reality. spoiler: it does not. then, from the depths of her soul, she yells, “nika, it’s four in the morning.”

she pauses. glances at her phone. squints. “…oh. it’s eight actually. but whatever. it’s like one a.m. in connecticut, right?”

aubrey, still very much unconscious, does not react. which is suspicious. because aubrey is a light sleeper, unless—paige squints harder. leans over. where the fuck did she get earplugs from? is she stockpiling them? does she have a secret stash? is aubrey actually five steps ahead of them all?

aaliyah, notably, is no longer in the room. probably fed up with nika’s way-too-morning-person energy. and honestly? valid.

paige sighs again, this time with the energy of a woman who has already lost the battle but refuses to surrender the war.

paige stumbles into the bathroom, half-blind, half-grumpy, and fully prepared to throw hands with whoever is responsible for the morning’s chaos. spoiler: it’s nika. it’s always nika.

nika is standing at the mirror, combing her hair like she’s in a coming-of-age movie, silently lip-syncing to the song blasting from her phone. except she’s not actually silent. her mouth is moving, but the words? barely syncing. honestly, it’s impressive how bad she is at it.

paige watches this disaster unfold for a second, then flicks the lights off and back on like she’s a ghost in a bad horror movie. nika blinks. pauses. then just keeps singing.

“are you insane?” paige deadpans.

nika, unwavering, dramatically points at herself in the mirror, mouthing along to whatever lyrics she’s currently butchering.

paige sighs, pinches the bridge of her nose. “now, mind you,” she says, adopting the tone of someone giving a ted talk on basic human decency, “i need to brush my teeth. and there are people sleeping in here.”

nika waves a hand, dismissive. “this isn’t even that bad,” she argues. “kk wanted to bring in the big ass jbl speaker.”

paige freezes mid-motion, toothbrush in hand. “how did kk even wake up that early? she missed breakfast last time.”

nika shrugs, because of course she does.

paige sighs again, but this time, it’s the resigned sigh of someone who has already lost the battle but will still fight for moral victory. she washes her face, lets the cold water wake her up properly, then grabs a towel. she changes into a grey uconn tank top and some plaid beige shorts—ones azzi got her.

and yeah. okay. they’re kind of her favorite. but no one needs to know that.

paige brushes her teeth, staring at her own reflection like she’s in the middle of an existential crisis, but really, she’s just wondering if she has the energy to survive another day of nika’s antics. after rinsing, she downs a glass of cold water like it’s life-saving medicine, lets the chill wake her up properly.

nika, meanwhile, is still at the mirror, now meticulously applying her lashes like she’s about to hit the red carpet. paige watches for a second, then leans against the counter with the judgment of someone who’s been up for ten minutes and already seen too much.

“you know you don’t need allat, right?” she says, lazily gesturing at nika’s fully stocked beauty station. “matter of fact, where are you even going?”

nika, unbothered, dabs at her eyeliner. “i signed up for yoga classes.”

paige blinks. processes. stares like nika just told her she’s moving to mars. “...yoga?”

nika nods, focused on making sure her lashes are even.

paige keeps staring. “okay, well, good luck. but you still don’t need allat.”

nika scoffs, flicking paige’s arm. “and where are you going?”

paige stretches, rolling out her shoulders like she’s preparing for a fake excuse. “az is by the beach. she needs help with, you know… knees.”

nika side-eyes her so hard it might as well be a personal attack. “sure. knees.”

paige groans, already regretting every word.

nika smirks, grabbing her lip gloss. “just keep in mind what i told you about the sand. it’s really not comfortable.”

paige barely glances over, rolling her eyes like she’s done with this whole thing before it even starts. "i ain't having this convo with you right now," she mutters, flicking her hand like she’s brushing off a bug she doesn’t want to deal with, and straight up glides over to aubrey who’s got this mix of confusion and mild annoyance all over her face. aubrey's staring at the speakers like they just insulted her, hands on her hips like she’s trying to figure out the meaning of life but it’s just loud, garish music blaring from the corner of the room.

"yo, what type of moron is playing this loud ass music?" aubrey says, hands still in the air, gesturing like it’s a crime scene and the speakers are the culprits.

paige, who’s somehow managing to look unbothered and annoyed at the same time, cracks a smile like she’s in on some private joke with the universe. "that would be niks," she says, shrugging. "but good luck. i ain't staying here."

aubrey doesn’t even wait a second. she flops onto the bed like she’s in mourning, burying her face in the pillow with the dramatic flair of someone who's had enough. "nika, i swear to god," she yells, voice muffled but still cutting through the noise like a razor. "please turn that off or at least put on some good music. like, this is the type of stuff coach would listen to."

from the other side of the room, niks's voice floats back, too chill for someone causing all this chaos. "i can’t hear you, aubs," she calls out, completely unfazed. "but good for you." like it’s a compliment, or maybe a warning. who knows?

and aubrey just screams into the pillow like she's trying to communicate with the universe, but the universe is deaf, and it’s wearing noise-canceling headphones.

paige's hand was already on the door when it hit her—azzi had taken her slides. not even a thought, just straight up swiped them. she blinked, standing still for a moment, weighing her options like she was about to make a life-altering decision. should she go barefoot? but then she remembered the last time she had to jump across that stupid patch of sand by the beach, the way people gave her side-eye like she was committing a crime by being barefoot in public. not that it bothered her, really. it was more the idea of a crab getting real bold and just, like, eating her whole ass foot. what if that happened? she could practically hear the crabs snickering.

not today, she thought.

so, she took aubrey’s slides instead. yeah, aubrey’s. the ones with the weird cupcake prints on them. cupcakes. on slides. like, seriously? paige stared at them, one of those moments where you almost feel like you should say something to the universe, but instead you just shrug and go, “whatever,” because it wasn’t even worth getting into.

she grabbed her phone, keycard, and a tiny pocket-sized bottle of sun cream—just in case azzi forgot to bring hers. though, she probably didn’t. azzi was always so together, so perfectly azzi with her little routines. but paige, of course, never passed up the chance to carry extra backup stuff, just in case. because who knew when a little sunburn might sneak up on you? and better safe than sorry when you're dealing with, like, crab-foot disaster potential.

paige was strolling through the hotel, sipping in the sun, when she saw a street vendor with ice-cold lemonade. her brain did a little happy dance. lemonade, on a hot day? yes, please. but then the realization hit her like a ton of bricks: her spanish? not great. it’s like, a solid "hi" and "thank you" and the rest was just a bunch of hopeful grunting. but screw it, she went for it anyway.

the vendor was super sweet, like, the kind of sweet that made you wonder if he gave free hugs with every order. she tried to say the flavor she wanted, but her pronunciation was like a toddler trying to read Shakespeare. somehow, though, it worked. "naranja," he said with a smile, handing her the cup. orange. paige smiled back, feeling victorious like she had just won a gold medal for the "not-so-perfect-but-still-gets-it-right" Olympics.

now, with her prize in hand, paige turned the corner and spotted azzi, of course, reading a book. was there any other scenario? seriously. azzi was laying flat on her stomach, legs swinging lazily in the air like she had all the time in the world. her curls were in a neat bun, but a few rebellious strands were playing with the wind, getting blown backwards like they had a mind of their own. azzi was rocking an open maxi dress in this perfect almond color. paige swore, if azzi wore a garbage bag, she’d still somehow be hotter than the entire sun. no lie.

paige took a slow breath, she set her drink on the sand next to her and then, in a move that could only be described as questionable at best, she grabbed a handful of sand. yep. sand. carefully—if that’s even a thing—she sprinkled some on azzi's legs, thinking she'd just add a little "sandy surprise." of course, azzi didn’t notice. not a flinch. not a twitch.

so, paige decided to take it to the next level: tickling. she lightly poked azzi’s foot, waiting for her reaction like a kid with a new toy.

BAM. azzi jerked up like she had just been zapped with electricity, screeching, "what the hell?!!" like someone had stolen her last fry. she whipped around, face a mix of confusion and irritation, before rolling her eyes at paige, who was cracking up like a five-year-old. she knew, right then and there, she was definitely not a trusted adult.

paige flops down next to azzi, their shoulders brushing, a casual kind of closeness that’s more comfortable than it probably should be. her hand slides around azzi’s lower back, like she’s just staking a claim, and azzi’s still recovering from whatever just happened—because, yeah, whatever just happened, it’s written all over her face. paige grins. “hey mama.”

azzi rolls her eyes like she’s done a million times before but still cracks a smile. “hi, firecracker.”

“woah?” paige says, raising an eyebrow. “that’s a new one.”

azzi laughs and yanks paige closer by the hem of her tank top, pulling her into a kiss that’s just long enough to make paige forget where they are, but not long enough to be too dramatic. when they pull away, azzi smirks. “that morning breath, paige.”

paige scrunches her nose. “excuse me? i literally brushed my teeth.”

“have you been flossing or not?” azzi asks, completely deadpan.

paige stares at her, unblinking. “no, sparky.”

azzi snorts, clearly amused. paige rolls her eyes, already moving on, because she can’t help herself. “so how’d you sleep? knee still acting up?”

“it’s fine,” azzi says, dismissive, though she doesn’t meet paige’s gaze. “just that little pain in the curve of my left knee. colleen sent me some videos on how to deal with it.”

paige's face goes from casual to concerned in half a second. “you should’ve told me sooner. i’ll get you to a doctor. don’t even think about not going.”

“paige, relax,” azzi says, but paige can tell she’s just a little uncomfortable with the attention.

paige keeps going, relentless. “i mean, is it just like a dull pain, or does it—”

“forget it,” azzi cuts in, frustration leaking into her tone. “i shouldn’t have told you.”

paige’s face hardens in determination, and before azzi can protest, paige turns her onto her back and lifts the hem of her dress to inspect the knee. azzi’s eyes widen, but she’s too slow to stop paige. “so, you’re just gonna figure it out by looking at it?”

paige shrugs, utterly unfazed. “what? i’ve got a charm. i once taught a dog how to do a backflip. don’t doubt me.”

azzi bursts out laughing, shaking her head. “you’re impossible.”

“c’mon, what’s funny about that? that dog was amazing,” paige says, grinning.

azzi finally rolls her eyes, still smiling. “you’re ridiculous.”

paige doesn’t let up. “also, did you put on sun cream today, or are we just throwing caution to the wind?”

paige barely has time to react before azzi fixes her with a look, all smug and effortless, like she’s already won some unspoken game. “of course i put on sunscreen. i’m not you.”

paige clutches her chest like she’s just taken a fatal hit. “wow. that’s crazy. i take one little sunburn—”

“one?” azzi scoffs. “paige, you turned the color of a cooked lobster last time. i was concerned.”

paige ignores that. instead, she pulls out her bottle of sunscreen with the enthusiasm of someone revealing a magic trick. “oh no,” she gasps, twisting it in her hands like she’s never seen such a thing before. “how ever will i apply this?”

azzi stares at her. unimpressed.

paige stares back. Innocent. 

azzi sighs, already regretting every life choice that led her here. “you are such a big baby.” but she takes the bottle anyway, because paige is insufferable and annoying and maybe a little bit cute when she does this. just a little.

paige beams, her grin almost blinding as she flops onto her back like she’s just booked a full spa day. azzi, shaking her head, straddles her waist, warming up the sunscreen between her palms before smoothing it over paige’s neck. her hands move slow, careful. fingers pressing into warm skin, trailing down to paige’s shoulders, working out knots that paige probably doesn’t even know she has.

paige hums, tipping her head back. “damn. should’ve pulled this trick sooner.”

“oh, shut up.” azzi’s hands pause, then—just because she can—she drags a cold streak of sunscreen across paige’s cheek.

paige gasps, all wide-eyed and scandalized. “oh, so that’s how it is?” she swipes at her own face, scooping up excess sunscreen, and without warning—smushes it directly onto azzi’s face.

azzi freezes. blinks. “you did not just—”

paige is already grinning like an idiot, so damn pleased with herself. azzi doesn’t even think—she just moves, shoving paige off her, flipping them with ease so paige is the one on her back now, laughing so hard her whole body shakes.

“oh, you think you’re funny?” azzi leans over her, pressing paige into the sand, hands bracketing her face.

“no,” paige breathes, still grinning. “i know i’m funny.”

azzi rolls her eyes but doesn’t argue. instead, she shifts, settling herself onto paige’s lap, letting her full weight sink in, like she belongs there. her hands find paige’s face—thumbs tracing over sharp cheekbones, fingers tangling in sun-warmed hair.

paige just looks up at her, eyes soft, hands resting easy on azzi’s waist. her touch is light, but her grip is steady, like she’s ready to pull azzi closer if she wants.

azzi wants.

she leans in, brushing a kiss to paige’s cheek. then another. then another. paige exhales against her skin, something quiet, something almost reverent.

“you have sand in your hair, silly,” azzi murmurs, fingers brushing through sun-bleached strands, picking out tiny grains.

paige doesn’t move, just watches her, like this is the best part of her day. “well, take it off then.”

so azzi does, fingers lingering.

and maybe it’s the heat, or the way paige is looking at her, or maybe it’s just them, but before she can second-guess it, she’s pressing in again, slower this time. deeper. paige meets her halfway, arms locking around azzi’s back, pulling them together until they’re so close azzi can feel paige’s heartbeat against her own.

when they finally pull back, paige’s face is unreadable, but there’s something in her eyes—something big, something unspoken.

azzi swallows. breathes. then, quietly, honestly—“i love these mornings with you.” her hands slip under paige’s tank top, fingertips pressing into warm skin. “every single morning with you.”

paige just smiles, something soft and certain. “yeah,” she murmurs. “me too.”

paige just looks at her, because how could she not? azzi’s dimples are deep, her face still soft with sleep, lips curling around words that paige barely registers because, honestly, she’s too busy staring. lavender clings to azzi’s skin, to her curls, and maybe it’s the shampoo or maybe it’s just her, but it makes paige feel something warm and slow in her chest.

"so,” paige drawls, tilting her head, a lazy grin tugging at her mouth. "did the best book on the planet finally start to get boring?"

azzi scoffs, dropping the book onto the blanket beside them, fingers still lingering over the worn edges. her other hand—traitorous thing that it is—stays exactly where it shouldn’t, playing with the frayed hem of paige’s shorts, fingertips brushing against bare skin.

paige swallows. shifts. but she doesn’t move away.

"just because you can’t finish a book without quitting after ten pages," azzi teases, "doesn’t mean it’s boring."

paige hums, pretending to consider that, but really, she’s considering the way azzi is looking at her—eyes still a little sleepy, lips parted just enough to make paige’s pulse trip over itself.

she shrugs, like her heart isn’t currently doing gymnastics. "or maybe," she murmurs, "you just got distracted."

azzi doesn’t deny it. she just quirks an eyebrow, fingers brushing paige’s thigh again—higher this time. deliberate.

"maybe," azzi says, all casual, all effortless.

paige bites the inside of her cheek, trying to keep her cool, but then azzi moves, shifting so they’re fully face to face, so close that paige could count every freckle dusting azzi’s nose if she wasn’t too busy looking at her mouth.

"but i do finish books," azzi says, smug. "unlike you, firecracker."

paige grins at that, because she lives for the way azzi says it—soft, teasing, like it’s theirs and only theirs.

"oh, so you do get distracted," paige murmurs, voice lower now, rougher, and azzi doesn’t answer. not with words.

instead, she just leans in.

paige actually groans, throwing her head back into the sand. “you cannot keep doing this to me,” she whines, hands gripping azzi’s waist, thumbs brushing over warm skin. “like, i’m gonna actually rip out all of my hair.”

azzi, clearly enjoying this way too much, tilts her head, feigning innocence. “i didn’t even do anything yet.”

paige just looks at her, deadpan, and azzi smirks, and then suddenly—

paige yelps as she’s shoved back fully, the world tilting as azzi shifts, climbing over her, her ass absolutely taking over paige’s lap.

paige is gone. obliterated.

azzi leans in, voice all sweet and smug. “so,” she murmurs, “are you gonna rip your hair out now?”

paige grins, all teeth, hands slipping up into azzi’s curls. “i hate you.”

“mmm.” azzi tilts her head, like she’s listening. “your heart’s beating so fast. i can hear it.”

paige just stares at her, swallowing. “and why do you think that is?”

azzi hums, fake thoughtful, then flicks her gaze toward some random dude sunbathing nearby. “must be him.”

paige outright gasps, shoving at azzi’s shoulder. “you’re so rude.”

azzi shrugs, smug. “just calling it like i see it.”

paige is already planning revenge. the second the idea pops into her head, she grins.

"hey," she says, casual. “wanna go refresh your feet?”

azzi’s eyes immediately narrow. “paige. we’re not doing this again.”

paige, all innocence, tugs at azzi’s hands. “c’mon. just feet.”

azzi scoffs. “i literally wore this twice already.”

paige shrugs. “well, maybe you shouldn’t wear a dress to the beach.”

azzi raises a brow, then pointedly glances down—to where paige’s hands are still very much on her ass.

paige freezes.

azzi smirks. “you don’t seem to have a problem with it.”

paige clears her throat. “okay. let’s go. just feet. i promise.”

azzi looks at her for a second, then sighs, slipping her fingers between paige’s, tugging her along toward the shore. paige follows, but not without a dramatic groan, like she’s being dragged to her doom instead of, y’know, the literal ocean.

when the waves roll in, azzi steps forward effortlessly, letting the water lap at her ankles. paige, however, hesitates.

"wait," paige blurts, yanking them both back slightly. "what if there are, like, crabs? or some bullshit?"

azzi blinks at her. "are you serious?"

paige just stares out at the water, wary, like a crab might suddenly leap out and start beef.

azzi sighs, exasperated but fond, and tugs paige in, her grip tightening, making sure she feels steady, safe. she lets them sink their feet in just enough so the cold fizzles up to their ankles, nothing more.

paige visibly relaxes.

"see?" azzi murmurs, squeezing her hand. "not such a bad idea."

paige huffs, flicking wet sand off her foot. "i told you. no sharks."

azzi stares at her, deadpan.

paige blinks, confused.

azzi finally speaks, voice flat. "you—" she gestures vaguely, "literally just freaked out over crabs eating your feet. and now you're acting like you knew it was safe all along?"

paige shrugs, grinning. "personal growth."

as they make their way back to the sand, paige notices the way azzi’s movements slow, her skin glistening under the sun, her cheeks a little more flushed than usual. she was always hot—obviously—but now it was the temperature getting to her.

paige nudges her elbow. “you good?”

azzi nods, brushing damp curls out of her face. “yeah.”

paige squints. not buying it. she turns to the so-called slushie she thought would be refreshing, only to find it’s now just… syrupy, warm liquid. useless. she dumps it in the sand, turns back to azzi.

"you want a drink?"

azzi lifts a brow. “from where?”

paige blinks, deadpan. “uh. not the ocean, genius.”

“hmm.” azzi tilts her head, playful. “but you did say it has sharks in it. adds flavor.”

paige just stares at her. “okay. i clearly meant the bar, but remind me to never let you cook.”

azzi grins, amused, and finally nods. paige hops up immediately, offering a hand to pull azzi up with her, then—without a word—picks up all their stuff, shouldering the weight so azzi doesn’t have to.

the bar is a little further down the beach, shaded under wide white canopies. they settle onto the stools, both a little surprised that, for once, their height isn’t an issue.

as soon as paige approaches the bartender, he immediately clocks her. “well, look who’s back,” he teases, resting an elbow on the counter. “no trouble yet, i assume?”

paige smirks. “who, me? never.”

he eyes azzi, then raises a brow at paige. “and i see you brought someone way out of your league this time.”

paige just grins, but before she can say something cocky, azzi—without missing a beat—goes, “i know, right?”

the bartender wheezes, actually leans on the counter for support, and paige throws an arm over azzi’s shoulders, shaking her lightly. “you’re supposed to back me up.”

“oh, i am,” azzi hums, smug.

paige orders a shirley temple (duh), and for azzi, a cold water and a lemonade, because azzi doesn’t drink, and especially not in the morning.

when paige slides the drinks over, she asks, “these good?”

azzi hums in approval, then kisses her—soft, simple, just a small gesture, but it sends a quiet warmth straight to paige’s chest.

as they sip their drinks, paige casually mentions, “so, the team wants to check out the farmers’ market later. little shopping, all that.”

azzi perks up immediately. “oh, that sounds fun. yeah, i’m down.”

they sit there in comfortable silence, just enjoying the quiet—the shade, the slow-moving waves, the soft hum of music drifting from the bar’s speakers. paige rests a hand on azzi’s thigh, thumb tracing absentminded circles.

the world feels still, for a moment. just theirs.

as they walk back to the hotel, paige’s slides slap lightly against the pavement with each step, and azzi—who just now notices the design—snorts.

“okay, i know you have… unique taste,” she starts, eyeing the bright pastel cupcake pattern, “but cupcakes? seriously?”

paige side-eyes her. “first of all, those aren’t mine. they’re aubrey’s. you took mine. literally.”

azzi blinks, looking down at the slides on her feet. they’re huge on her, but somehow, that makes them funnier. she wiggles her toes a little, then shrugs. “hmm. they’re kinda cute, though.”

paige just shakes her head, but she doesn’t fight it when azzi leans in and kisses her.

when they get to the elevator, they hear it before they see it—nika’s voice, singing some dramatic ballad way too passionately for this hour.

azzi notices her first. “hi niks.”

paige, without missing a beat, throws a hand to her forehead and groans, “nurse, she’s out again.”

nika stops mid-lyric to side-eye paige, but she still gives them both a quick hug. “you’re just mad because i can sing.”

paige scoffs. “who said that?”

nika ignores her. “anyway, i’m off to yoga. some of us have inner peace.” she glances down at paige’s slides and just bursts out laughing before heading out.

when the elevator dings, azzi steps in first, then glances at paige. “do you think anyone’s in the room?”

paige slides in next to her, voice dropping just a bit. “i hope not.”

they both know what’s on each other’s minds.

the second the elevator doors open, paige reaches back and slaps azzi’s ass—quick, casual, like it’s routine—and azzi barely reacts, just rolls her eyes as she unlocks the door.

inside, it’s quiet.

paige calls out, just in case. “yo, anyone out there?”

nothing.

she checks the bathroom for good measure, then slaps the i’m sleeping, do not disturb sticker on the door handle.

azzi watches, laughing. “you’re so dramatic.”

paige flops onto the bed. “finally, someone who hates the sun during the early hours.”

“you’re so stupid.” azzi shakes her head, but she’s grinning as she climbs on top of paige, pressing her into the mattress.

paige just smirks up at her. “uh-huh. and yet…”

azzi cuts her off with a kiss.

they must’ve dozed off at some point, bodies tangled under the sheets, skin warm against skin. the room is quiet, save for the occasional distant sound of waves outside and—of course—paige snoring.

azzi blinks awake, her head still resting on paige’s chest, the steady rise and fall of it lulling her into a daze. it’s 10 a.m. now—she knows because the light creeping through the edges of the curtains is brighter, more persistent. the team’s probably already at breakfast, laughing about something stupid, while she and paige are still here, wrapped up in each other, barely existing outside of this bed.

she shifts slowly, carefully, like she’s moving through water. her eyes roam over paige’s face—soft, peaceful, a little ridiculous with the way her mouth is slightly open. azzi leans in and presses a kiss to her neck. then her ear. then her temple. then her forehead.

she smiles into the last one, her fingers brushing over paige’s cheek.

paige groans, voice thick with sleep. “five more minutes.”

she barely opens her eyes, just reaches up and blindly runs her fingers through azzi’s curls, messing them up even more—not that they weren’t already a disaster.

azzi hums, her touch featherlight as she starts tracing slow circles over paige’s bare stomach.

“five more minutes,” she echoes.

as they stir awake, azzi groans, stretching against paige’s warmth before sighing, “we have to shower.”

paige, still half-asleep, mumbles, “i know,” dragging the word out like it physically pains her.

azzi reaches for her phone, squinting at the screen. “ice texted me like fifteen times asking where we were,” she says, scrolling. “i told her to save us some breakfast, but she probably didn’t.”

paige cracks one eye open, then shrugs. “we’ll grab something from the market, don’t worry.”

azzi nods, then leans in, pressing a lazy, lingering kiss to paige’s lips before pulling her out of bed. they move fast—hoping praying—that nobody barges in while they’re still very much naked.

in the bathroom, paige turns on the shower, letting the water heat up, while she grabs a fresh pair of boxers for herself. azzi rummages through her bag, pulling out a pair of panties and those ridiculous jean shorts—so impractical, but she’s committed now. she tosses a grey tank top onto the counter, the soft fabric hugging her fingers as she runs a thumb over it. her belly button piercing sits next to it, not on yet, but waiting.

paige catches sight of it and smirks. “you planning on making someone pass out today, or is that just a bonus?”

azzi just rolls her eyes, stepping into the shower first. “you talk too much.”

“and yet, you love me.”

azzi tilts her head, glancing back at paige. “unfortunately.”

azzi sits there, still, watching paige move—towel in hand, completely unaware of the way azzi’s eyes drink her in. it’s not a wandering gaze, not fleeting or absentminded. it’s deliberate, intentional. the kind of look azzi only ever gives paige. okay, maybe stewie too, but that’s different.

paige feels it before she sees it. that weight of attention pressing against her skin. she turns, voice soft. “you good? everything alright?”

azzi doesn’t answer right away, doesn’t shift or blink, just keeps looking at her with that quiet intensity that makes paige’s breath hitch. paige frowns a little, sets the towel down, and crouches in front of her, leveling their eyes. no walls. “what’s wrong?”

azzi blinks, then exhales. “remember that kitten we kinda…rescued? in the middle of—” she pauses, a small, knowing smile tugging at her lips.

paige grins immediately, laughing. “oh, yeah. you mean the one who almost walked in on us?”

azzi nods, gaze softer now, thumb tracing over her own knee absentmindedly. “i wanna take her home. with us.”

us.

paige doesn’t miss it, the weight of that word. it settles in her chest, warm, grounding. she smiles, presses a slow kiss to azzi’s forehead, lingers just a second longer than necessary. when she pulls back, azzi bites her lip, eyes flicking between paige’s lips, her eyes, back to her lips—before she leans in.

the kiss is slow, deep, their tongues moving in sync, a silent promise exchanged between them. when they pull apart, azzi doesn’t say a word. just smirks, grips paige’s wrist, and shoves her into the shower.

paige barely has time to react before warm water spills over them both, azzi stepping in after her.

“you could’ve just asked,” paige says, laughing as she wipes water from her face.

azzi hums, stepping closer, hands finding paige’s waist. “yeah, but this is more fun.”

hand in hand, paige and azzi move through the buzz of the team, a quiet kind of connection only they can understand. there's a rhythm to their movements, like they're woven together, stitched at the edges. aubrey’s sharp laugh pierces the air as she pulls paige away, tossing her a look that says, we need to talk, while caroline sweeps in to start some random conversation with azzi about food at the market. paige, now distracted, glances at her for a moment before letting aubrey drag her off.

ice leans in with a grin, her voice low, "so, azzi hasn’t noticed the guitar yet," she says with a teasing flick of her head. "honestly, she’s kinda clueless, but that’s not the real problem." her smirk is impossible to miss.

paige frowns, her gaze narrowing at ice’s nonchalant attitude. "do you even know the notes properly?" she asks, a tinge of doubt creeping in. "i think sarah could fly out to argentina just to help you with this, you know?"

ice scoffs, rolling her eyes like it’s nothing. "dude, relax. it's gonna be fine, okay? we’ve got it under control." her confidence radiates, but there's something in her eyes—her own little spark of excitement hidden under the tough exterior.

aubrey, standing nearby with a mischievous grin, chimes in, "i’ll know when to slam the drums. trust me, i’ve got the rhythm, i know the song inside out." her fingers tap lightly against her thighs as if she’s already feeling the beat.

paige sighs in relief, a small smile tugging at her lips. "thanks, guys," she says, her voice quieter now, a flicker of seriousness cutting through her usual light tone. "but we can’t tell anyone. only coach, and the staff. oh, and maybe let’s dress it up a bit? some of our teammates are, like, rolling up in pajamas or sports bras, and that’s cool and all, but... i don’t know, we should stand out a bit."

ice and aubrey nod in unison, a silent agreement between them. "yeah, yeah, got it," aubrey says, dapping paige up before turning her attention back to the rest of the team.

paige glances over her shoulder, eyes flicking to see if caroline’s keeping azzi occupied. it seems like she is—good. paige doesn’t need any distractions right now. they’re so close to pulling this off.

the team begins to quiet as geno steps forward, his presence demanding attention even if his appearance doesn’t. paige's gaze flicks down to his feet, and she can’t help but feel a laugh bubbling up inside her. geno, the team's usually gruff and intimidating coach, is wearing clogs—but not just any clogs. these are built like logs, thick and bulky, like something you’d find in a lumberjack’s wardrobe. wooden. and to top it all off? he’s wearing socks. the image is so absurd that paige has to fight to keep from bursting out laughing.

"alright," geno growls, attempting to sound serious despite the ridiculousness of his shoes. "stop talking and listen up." he pauses, scanning the team with narrowed eyes. "we need to be civil here. no acting like you’re above anyone else. this is about the team. you got that?"

paige can feel the laughter still tugging at the corners of her mouth. she fights to keep it contained, glancing at aubrey and ice. both of them are stifling grins, too, trying not to crack under the sheer ridiculousness of geno’s ensemble. aubrey raises an eyebrow, muttering under her breath, "dude, how does he take himself seriously in those? like, honestly, those are like... furniture."

paige can’t help it. she lets out a quiet snicker, and aubrey’s face lights up with an amused grin. "seriously," paige whispers, eyes glinting with mischief. "how does he not fall over in those things? they look like they belong in a museum."

"god, i don’t know," aubrey mutters back, trying to hide her smile. "but i’m definitely not wearing socks with them."

as geno continues to talk about the need for unity and respect, it’s hard to keep a straight face. the team, though clearly amused, nods along like they’re taking the most serious lecture of their lives. paige just watches, her thoughts flickering between the ridiculousness of the moment and the plan she’s orchestrating. azzi deserves this. it’s gonna be worth it. no wooden clogs or coach’s weird socks can ruin the excitement buzzing through her veins.

paige exchanges one last look with aubrey and ice, then turns back to geno, who is still droning on about team unity and respect. she’s not sure how anyone’s supposed to take him seriously when he looks like he’s about to chop wood with those things, but she suppresses a grin and nods along. soon. it’ll all come together soon.

the sun hangs low but heavy, its heat stretching across the cobblestone street like a lazy cat. it's only 11 a.m., but summer doesn’t care for schedules. their teammates naturally split off into little groups, laughter and chatter bouncing between sun-bleached buildings. paige and azzi stick together, like they always do.

paige’s arm drapes over azzi’s shoulder, loose and easy, while azzi’s hand slips into the back pocket of paige’s shorts, like it belongs there. and maybe it does. the denim is soft, worn from too many washes, the color faded in places that paige's distracted gaze keeps drifting to. she shakes herself out of it, refocusing on the market—baskets overflowing with fruit, the scent of something buttery and rich curling through the air.

they stop at a cart where a man grins at them, speaking rapid spanish, his words warm and musical. neither of them have a clue what he’s saying, but his hands move with practiced ease as he spears two golden, bubbling squares of cheese on a toothpick. provoleta.

before azzi can react, paige, with her usual lack of personal space awareness, presses the sample straight to azzi’s lips. caught off guard, azzi’s mouth opens automatically—right as the vendor hands her another piece. now both squares are in her mouth, and she blinks at paige in mild betrayal.

paige, grinning like she just won something, watches as azzi struggles to chew. “good?” she asks, as if she doesn’t already know the answer.

azzi glares. swallows. “i hate you.”

paige just nudges her side, still smiling. “nah, you love me.”

azzi laughs, head tilting back just enough for the sunlight to catch in her eyes, and paige forgets how to do basic things—like blink. or breathe. the man at the cart watches them, shifting awkwardly, the universal look of a guy realizing he might be third-wheeling. then again, most people feel like that around azzi and paige. it’s not their fault. it’s just the way they are, orbiting each other like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

azzi, still chewing, sticks out a thumbs up and attempts a very solid, very confident “bueno.” the man grins, nods, and—before they can protest—packs them a whole bag of the cheese. just hands it over like it’s obvious they should have it. paige accepts immediately, saluting him before dragging azzi to the next stall.

the churro stand. because paige has a one-track mind when it comes to sugar.

the line is ridiculous, snaking around the corner, but paige doesn’t care. “worth it.” azzi sighs but stays, because paige’s excitement is weirdly contagious. when they finally get to the front, the vendor, an older guy with laugh lines that could tell stories, eyes them playfully and goes, “that’ll be fifty-five dollars.”

paige, without hesitation, starts pulling out her wallet. azzi just stares. at paige. then at the man. then back at paige.

the vendor cracks up. “nah, it’s on me.”

paige laughs too, shoving her wallet back like she totally knew that. azzi, still shaking her head, grabs her wrist and drags her away before she causes another scene, muttering something about “literally, stop talking, i’m begging.”

paige takes a bite first, humming in approval, then—with absolutely no warning—leans in and kisses azzi, soft and slow, like the world doesn’t exist beyond them. she makes sure to smear a little chocolate on azzi’s lips just so she can kiss it off, grinning against her mouth like a menace.

literally get a room, man.

kk, naturally, is on a mission. a sugar mission. she’s standing there, somehow balancing two churros, extra sprinkles dusting her fingers like she just fist-fought a birthday cake, and—because she refuses to do anything halfway—a marshmallow. on top. of the churro. impaled on a tiny stick like it’s some kind of dessert trophy.

paige squints at it. “was that… an option?”

“no,” azzi answers before kk can, because of course not. kk just made it happen.

kk grins like a kid on christmas morning and takes an absolutely obnoxious bite, rainbow sprinkles cascading to the ground in slow motion. “this is peak innovation,” she says, through a mouthful of churro and marshmallow.

meanwhile, caroline and ayanna are standing a few feet away, looking down at a plate of… something. something suspiciously not dessert.

“so, uh.” caroline pokes at it with a fork. “alligator, huh?”

ayanna, ever the adventurer, already has a bite halfway to her mouth. “yep.”

paige, nosy by nature, leans in. “why?”

“why not?” ayanna pops the piece in her mouth, chews thoughtfully, then shrugs. “tastes like chicken.”

caroline eyes hers warily. “i dunno. this one looks like it’s still plotting against me.”

azzi, from her safe distance, grimaces. “i don’t know why you guys do this to yourselves.”

paige nudges her. “for the plot.”

kk, licking marshmallow off her fingers, gestures at the alligator plate. “can i dip this in there?”

“absolutely not,” everyone says in unison.

ice, living up to her name in the most literal way possible, strolls back with two cups of ice cream—one yogurt, one berry. she lifts them like a bartender showing off a fancy cocktail. “refreshing, no?”

paige snorts. “ice got ice cream. comedy gold.”

azzi, already melting from the heat, nods approvingly. “solid choice.”

as they settle onto a bench under the shade, nika plops down next to them, a bag in one hand, a watermelon slice in the other. because of course she has watermelon. she probably smuggled it into the country.

“so,” nika starts, casual as ever, “y’all wanna buy some vegetables?”

paige blinks at her. once. twice. “dude. you gotta be shitting me.”

nika blinks back, all innocence. “what?”

“nika, we’re in a hotel. what are we supposed to do, set up a lil’ farmers market in the mini-fridge? cook zucchini on a—on a hair straightener?”

nika scoffs, waving her watermelon slice around like a professor proving a point. “first of all, it’s not even a bad idea.”

“it is, actually.”

“second of all, i brought a whole-ass watermelon to the beach, and y’all loved it.”

azzi laughs, reaching over to steal a piece right out of nika’s hand. she takes a bite, sighing dramatically. “mm. can’t lie. refreshing.”

nika gestures, triumphant. “exactly. because it’s literally water. like, who the hell doesn’t like watermelon?”

paige, never one to waste a good moment, leans in with a smirk. “a little birdie told me kamorea’s not a fan.”

nika gasps. audibly. like someone just insulted her entire bloodline. “oh. hell. no.”

before anyone can stop her, she’s already on her feet, marching. beelining straight for kk like she’s about to stage an intervention.

paige and azzi watch her go, then turn to each other, wheezing.

azzi, completely deadpan: “well, it was nice knowing kk.”

with the last bite of their churro still sweet on their tongues, paige and azzi wander back to the group—only to find kk in full showtime mode.

somehow, in the span of five minutes, she’s acquired a bow and arrow and an audience. a real one. strangers standing around, watching her like she’s the main event at some medieval festival.

“why is she—” azzi starts.

“don’t ask,” paige says, already invested.

kk’s on her third and final shot. two tries down. one left. her stance is serious, locked in, ridiculously dramatic.

the team is gathered behind her, watching like it’s the olympics. paige steps up, slaps her back—the same way she always does before a game, before a huddle, before anything big. kk gives her a side-eye, but they both know what it means.

thanks. i got this.

the arrow flies. time slows.

BULLSEYE.

the whole crowd erupts, like kk just won a championship. and of course, jana is the loudest, damn near jumping out of her shoes.

nika? a close second. she might actually be louder, but jana’s got the vertical.

kk, grinning, turns back to the team, arms out like she’s waiting for the applause to wash over her.

paige shakes her head, laughing. “all this for a free keychain.”

the market hums with life—stalls overflowing with handcrafted treasures, the air thick with the scent of spices, fresh bread, and something sweet sizzling on a grill.

the team is scattered, each person caught up in their own little adventure.

somehow, a few ended up at a stall selling handmade soap bars. because why not? now, there’s a whole debate over which scent is the best. jasmine? vanilla? something called “midnight storm,” which paige insists just smells like soap?

a few players wander off and come back with mate cups—beautifully carved, each one unique. nika’s already talking about how she’s gonna “get into mate culture” like it’s a personality trait.

coach geno? oh, he’s set. ever since he discovered argentina’s wine scene a few nights ago, he’s been on a mission. now, he’s walking around with not one, not two, but three bottles tucked under his arm, looking like a man with zero regrets.

cd, though? she’s in her element.

she stands at a small stall filled with delicate handmade jewelry, running her fingers over the pieces like she’s reading a love letter in another language.

“timeless,” she murmurs, picking up a pair of gold earrings. “you can feel when something was made with love.”

the vendor, an older woman with kind eyes, just smiles. “that’s the best kind.”

the sun hangs lower now, casting a golden glow over the streets as the team makes their way back to the hotel, bags heavier, wallets lighter.

azzi, as always, grabs extra coconut water.

paige, as always, grimaces. “bro, how do you drink that? it tastes like someone wrung out a wet sock.”

azzi just pops the cap and takes a slow, exaggerated sip. “mmm. refreshing.”

paige gags dramatically. “you’re actually disgusting.”

azzi hums. “says the girl who ate an entire empanada in one bite.”

paige opens her mouth to argue—but yeah. fair.

by the time they step into the hotel room, it’s a whole scene.

aubrey’s sprawled out on the bed, looking like she just worked a double shift at a hospital.

aaliyah’s sitting on the floor, carefully braiding nika’s hair, her hands moving with practiced ease.

ice? she’s got the entire couch to herself, feet up, locked into a golf match on tv like it’s the nba finals.

paige barely makes it to the bed before remembering something. “oh, wait. i gotta talk to yanna, aubs, and ice.”

azzi narrows her eyes. suspicious. “be careful.”

paige grins. “what, you think i’m gonna get kidnapped?”

azzi rolls her eyes but still kisses her before letting her go.

paige, aubrey, and ice make their way down the hall to caroline’s room, making extra sure to lock the doors behind them.

inside, kk’s sitting cross-legged on the bed, completely locked in on her duolingo lesson.

paige daps her up. kk, deep in spanish mode, doesn’t even flinch.

classic.

back in the room, aaliyah’s fingers move with expert precision, parting and twisting nika’s hair while azzi, completely distracted, watches.

“yo,” aaliyah says, voice full of mischief, “we should play uno.”

nika, without missing a beat, “bet.”

azzi blinks. “wait, what—”

too late. aaliyah’s already shuffling the deck, and azzi’s about to find out just how ruthless this game is about to get.

meanwhile, in caroline’s room—

yanna bursts in, breathless. “shit, did i miss it?”

paige, lounging on the carpet, shakes her head. “nope, you’re just in time.”

everyone settles into a circle. aubrey cracks her knuckles. “alright, i got the drums. i already mastered the opening beat.”

ice nods. “nice. i got the guitar down, so we’re chilling.”

paige leans in, serious. “love that. but who’s playing piano? we got some guys who kinda know their way around a keyboard, but do they know the song?”

silence.

paige sighs. “aubs, i’m gonna need you on tambourine. it’s a crucial part.”

aubrey squints. “...is it though?”

paige nods, dead serious. “absolutely.”

ayanna stretches her arms behind her head, all casual. “i can play the piano.”

paige squints. “wait, like—actually? like, real-life, two hands, melody and all?”

yanna gives her a look. “yes, paige. i took classes in school.”

paige, still suspicious. “and you’re sure you can play this song?”

yanna raises a brow. “paige. yes. lock in.”

caroline, who’s been deep in thought, suddenly perks up. “hold on, do we need strings too? ’cause that’s a huge part. or can we, like, use an audio track for that?”

the room goes silent. paige tilts her head. “...how exactly would we do that?”

caroline just smirks. “let’s just say the guys at the bar know me well.”

paige bursts out laughing, shaking her head. “okay, fine. i’m trusting you on this.”

once the music part is locked in, paige claps her hands together. “okay, next—outfits. we gotta synchronize.”

ice groans. “paige. it’s 500 degrees. we can’t be out here melting.”

aubrey nods. “yeah, what’s the fit?”

paige thinks for a second, then snaps her fingers. “alright. y’all in dresses—simple, stylish, white. me, aubs, and yanna? formal shorts, sneakers, button-ups. clean, effortless. we pull up looking put together.”

caroline grins. “so basically, we’re looking like a rich friend group that decided to start a band for the vibes.”

paige smirks. “exactly.”

the hallway hums with quiet footsteps as paige, aubrey, and ice make their way back to the room, a lazy, sun-drenched afternoon spreading around them. aubrey’s voice breaks the calm, teasing paige about how cute she’s been all day, and ice can’t help but agree. paige just shrugs, a little grin curling up at the edges of her mouth, "i don’t care if it’s cheesy. it’s just me." her words hang there, soft and sure, as the trio shares a laugh before they push open the door.

inside, the room is a soft mess of cards, laughter, and easy familiarity. nika, aaliyah, and azzi are hunched over a game of uno, the stakes too high for a tuesday afternoon. nika grins like a cat who just ate the canary as she slams down a +4 card, making azzi groan in defeat. azzi’s already drowning in cards, a good twenty or so, and she scoffs, rolling her eyes, "this is bullshit," before flopping her cards down on the bed with a little more force than necessary.

paige’s laugh is soft, sweet, and she leans in to plant a kiss on azzi’s temple, her fingers brushing over the scattered cards. “you could block that one, you know,” she teases, tapping one of azzi’s cards gently. azzi shoots her a look that could melt steel. “that’s not how it works, dumbass.”

paige puts her hands up, mock surrender. “okay, i was just trynna help.” azzi’s eyes soften a little, the edge in her voice disappearing. “sorry. i just... hate uno,” she mutters, but the words are warm, not harsh.

paige just laughs, grinning down at her, “i for sure didn’t notice.” azzi gives her another look, this time with a little more fondness, a little less annoyance.

“UNO! UNO! UNOOO!” nika suddenly yells, flinging her arms up like she’s just won the lottery. "let’s fucking go!" everyone laughs at her enthusiasm, but when aaliyah groans, looking defeated, nika’s victory is complete.

aaliyah gets up with a sigh, stretching her arms over her head. “i’m gonna go eat something, take care, y’all.” she gives a quick wave and heads out, leaving the rest of them behind in their easy laughter and familiar chaos. "bye Li" they call out in unison, the sound lingering in the air like the last notes of a song they’ll never get tired of.

the room is full of soft chatter, easy laughter, and the occasional mention of a basketball play or two, as the team lounges around in their own little world. there’s talk of food, and a debate over the best kind of pizza that goes on longer than anyone planned. the conversation floats in and out, like the ebb and flow of a lazy river, until—knock knock.

the door swings open, and a hotel staff member peeks in, carrying a tray full of good news. “food service,” he says, glancing around. “nika, you ordered?”

they all pause, eyes flicking between nika and the door. nika just grins like a kid caught with their hand in the cookie jar. “yup, that’s me. thanks, miguel? right, miguel?”

he gives a short nod, and with the grace of a seasoned waiter, he wheels in the motherload. a full table—wheeled in like a king’s feast—stacked with steaming plates, fresh fruit, chilled water bottles, and snacks that seem to multiply the moment they hit the table. it’s absurd. it’s glorious.

miguel sets it all down, looking like he knows exactly what he’s done for these people. as he leaves, the door clicks shut behind him, and the team is left staring at the spread in awe.

“nika, are you for real?” aaliyah says, laughing as she grabs a piece of fruit. “this is beyond ridiculous.”

but even as they mock her, each of them is reaching for something—grabbing a sandwich here, a bowl of fresh berries there.

ice, eyes wide and a grin plastered across her face, is the first to speak. “i could live like this all day, every day.”

everyone cracks up at that, and nika just shrugs, as if it’s no big deal. “hey, you’ve gotta treat yourself sometimes.”

just then, the door swings open again, and in walks kk with her usual energy. “hey y’all!” she says, a grin on her face, dapping everyone up before she plops down to join the feast.

they all dig in, the silence settling into a comfortable rhythm as food disappears and conversation continues in between bites. it’s like the room’s filled with this warm, content buzz, the kind that only comes when you're with people who get you, who make everything feel easy.

eventually, the table empties, and one by one, people start drifting off. kk, ayyana, and aubrey head off for a nap, stretching out on the beds, while azzi, tired from the day, doesn’t even make it to the bed before her eyes flutter shut. soon, the whole room is still.

some are sprawled out on the carpet in the most ridiculous sleeping positions, legs tangled in a way that defies human anatomy. others are snoring softly, their mouths slightly open. it’s chaos, but it’s the kind of chaos that feels like home. and, as the afternoon sun dips lower, the quiet hum of deep sleep fills the room—a peaceful, comfortable, beautifully messy moment shared by everyone.

nika stirs awake, the heavy warmth of kk’s leg resting on her stomach. she gives it a gentle shove, making sure to do it as quietly as possible. “dude,” kk mumbles, all tangled in sleep, blinking up at nika like she’s been robbed of her dreams. nika can’t help but laugh softly, and then her phone buzzes, breaking the moment.

it's carol, flooding her screen with messages, all the same urgency. she scrolls through the texts, her eyes catching a few key words—"get your ass up" and a "okay". there’s no way nika’s letting azzi catch wind of this.

she nudges paige’s arm, trying to be subtle, and carefully peels herself away from azzi’s warm embrace. it takes a moment before everyone else is awake, their groggy faces slowly coming to life. two hours till the karaoke bar, paige had said, reminding them that everything had to be on point—no slip-ups, no letting azzi know anything. and the outfits? synchronized white. very synchronized.

they all nod, agreeing with the plan, before slipping out of the room. paige gives azzi one last look, knowing she’ll have to work her magic on the sleepyhead in the bed. she leans over, pressing a soft kiss to azzi’s shoulder, the coolness of the room contrasting with the warmth of the touch. "hi, pretty girl," she whispers.

azzi shifts, not quite awake but aware enough to mumble, "one more minute."

paige smiles, the softest of laughs slipping from her lips. “okay, one more minute,” she agrees, then heads for her socks. she slips them on, then grabs a silver cross necklace from her bag, the little symbol glinting in the light as she carefully drapes it around her neck. her hair falls into place as she scrunches it into a messy bun, and then, with soft footsteps, she returns to azzi.

“baby, that was like, five minutes,” she says, brushing a lock of hair from azzi’s face. “we need to get some dinner.”

azzi groans, shifting under the covers. "i don't wanna go."

paige crouches down next to her, gently taking azzi’s hand in hers. “okay, well, how about i bring you something up here? you wanna sleep in a little longer?”

with a lazy blink, azzi cracks one eye open, peering up at paige. “you’d really do that?” she says, her voice a mix of disbelief and warmth.

paige grins, kissing the knuckles of her hand, the action soft and tender. "i just asked you. of course i would."

azzi flashes a sleepy smile, her eyes still soft from the comfort of the bed. “okay, can you bring me some fish, veggies?" she pauses, then glances at paige, who’s already grinning like she knows what’s next.

“coconut water?” paige adds with a teasing raise of her eyebrow.

“yeah, of course,” azzi says, her voice a little groggy but fond.

"i love you," azzi whispers, her hand reaching out to brush against paige's, the words as simple as breathing but loaded with all the quiet affection between them.

paige smiles back, a little brighter, a little softer. “i love you more.” 

paige heads down to get dinner with the team, but when they walk into the dining area, something feels off. they all pause, scanning the room for azzi. “where’s she at?” ice asks, the confusion clear in her tone.

paige shrugs casually. “she’s tired. her knees aren’t doing her any favors.” she says it like it’s no big deal, but there's a tenderness in her voice that makes it obvious she’s just looking out for azzi, even in the smallest ways.

as the team takes their seats and their orders start arriving, it’s like magic. the waiters know exactly what they want, like they’ve been studying their preferences. paige’s heart gives a little squeeze when she notices that their spanish has leveled up in ways that feel so...natural, even if it’s just in a small, hotel restaurant kind of way.

after the last bite of dinner, ice looks over at paige, grinning wide. “so we’re going with ‘can’t take my eyes off of you,’ right?”

paige nods, her smile spreading like it’s stuck there. she’s so ridiculously in love, it’s embarrassing, but she doesn't care. she’s wearing it like a badge of honor, even if it means looking like an idiot.

aubrey rolls her eyes with a chuckle. “dude, you’re such a sap. azzi’s gonna think you’re an idiot, an idiot in love.”

nika jumps in with a playful smirk, leaning back in her chair. “well, she’s actually a moron, a moron in love.”

they all burst into laughter, the kind of laughter that makes everything lighter, makes the whole room feel like it’s theirs, and for a moment, nothing else exists but the easy camaraderie and the knowledge that no matter how ridiculous they are, it all works because of how much they care about each other.

paige walks back to the hotel room, carefully balancing the tray with coconut water, salmon, shrimp, and a side of roasted veggies. she knew exactly what azzi would want. she’s got a little smile dancing on her lips as she nudges the door open, setting the tray down in front of azzi, who’s still tucked under the covers, looking like she could sleep for another hour.

“hey, baby,” paige says softly, leaning in to kiss azzi’s temple before setting the food down on the bed. azzi stirs, her eyes blinking open, and when she sees paige, she lets out a little groan of protest.

"good morning," paige teases, her voice light, as she brushes some stray hair out of azzi's face. azzi squints at her, fully waking up now, and then looks around at the rest of the room.

everyone’s grinning, some of them trying to hide it, others just barely managing to contain their smiles. azzi narrows her eyes playfully at them. “what’d they put in y’all’s food that has you all looking so smiley? are you guys on the same level of ‘paige’ right now?” she asks, half-laughing.

the room goes silent for a split second, like everyone just got caught in the act. then, without missing a beat, the smiles instantly vanish, and they all glance at paige, who’s staring them down with an exaggerated deadpan expression, her arms crossed over her chest. azzi raises an eyebrow, clearly amused.

“you guys are a bunch of dorks,” azzi laughs, reaching for the coconut water. paige doesn’t break her gaze, but a small smile tugs at the corner of her lips.

they all start chatting, the conversation flowing easily as they unwind for a bit. some of them head to the bathroom to shower, others linger, trying to soak in a few last minutes of downtime before the madness of the karaoke bar.

paige keeps an eye on the clock, noting that there’s only about 40 minutes left until they have to leave. just as she’s making sure everything is set, her phone buzzes with a new message. it’s caroline, but it’s just for paige, separate from the group chat. because, if it were in the group chat, azzi would definitely catch on. caroline knows how to keep things under wraps.

"hey, don't forget to make sure everyone’s synced up with the outfits," the message reads. paige looks at it for a second, her smile returning. this is going to be one hell of a night.

the room hums quietly, everyone’s fingers glued to their screens for a second too long, faces lit by the glow of their phones. azzi notices it, the way everyone seems to check their messages at the exact same time, their heads bent low. it’s strange, but she shrugs it off, thinking maybe she’s just overthinking things. finishing her meal with a small sigh, she stands up, her legs feeling a little tired. “i’ll shower,” she mutters softly, half to herself.

as she steps into the bathroom, the others exchange a glance, their quiet buzz turning into a muffled hush. nika can barely hold back a grin, fighting the urge to whisper something that’s clearly itching at her. but she fails. “ahh, come on, i was just gonna—” she starts, but the door slams open, and she’s ushered out with a playful shove. “you’re such a troublemaker, nika,” ice teases, laughing.

as nika mumbles something under her breath in croatian, the others lean in, pulling their heads together, speaking in hushed tones. “okay, so here’s the deal,” aubrey starts, her voice barely above a whisper. “caroline has to keep azzi distracted. we can’t let her know we’re not going to the bar. paige, ice, and i—”

“wait, wait, we’re all doing this in sync, right? everything in white, so it’s a surprise for azzi?” paige interrupts, her eyebrows raised in question.

they all nod, the plan coming together. “yeah,” ice grins. “it’s gonna be great.”

as the plan settles in, some of them slip away to change, while paige stays behind, her focus already back on the karaoke lyrics. she hums the words under her breath, hoping she’s not butchering them in her head. she’s not paying attention to anything else, lost in the song.

but then, azzi steps out of the bathroom, her curls wild, free, and her dress… wow. paige’s heart stalls for a moment, her words escaping her. it’s like the world shifted on its axis for a second. azzi, in that white, back-exposed maxi dress, is absolutely stunning. paige can’t breathe.

azzi doesn’t notice her right away, but when she turns, she sees paige standing there, frozen, staring at her like she’s just seen a ghost. and then, paige’s mouth opens, but nothing comes out. she’s the talkative one, the one who always has something to say. yet now? now she’s speechless.

paige steps toward azzi, the distance between them feeling like nothing at all. her hands instinctively find azzi’s waist, pulling her in close. she looks down at her, eyes wide, voice soft. “you’re… you’re just perfect. i—” paige laughs, a little nervous now. “you literally take my breath away, az. it’s insane. how do you do that?”

azzi smiles, a warm, knowing smile that makes paige feel like the only person in the world. “you’re ridiculous,” azzi teases, her voice low and affectionate, the words laced with something that feels like home.

paige laughs softly, brushing her thumb across azzi’s cheek. “i’m not sorry about it,” she whispers, leaning in to kiss her, the world disappearing in that quiet, intimate moment.

when they pull apart, there’s a soft moment of silence, like they’re both trying to hold onto the magic of the moment. azzi’s eyes flicker, amused. “you’re definitely a sap,” she teases again, but there’s no hiding the tenderness in her voice.

“guilty,” paige admits, her lips curving into a smile. “but i think you secretly love it.”

azzí rolls her eyes playfully, but there’s that spark in her gaze, something that tells paige just how much she truly loves it. “maybe,” azzi murmurs, her voice soft and teasing, and paige can’t help but lean in for another kiss.

paige watches the door close behind azzi, and for a second, she just stands there, letting the silence of the room fill her up. it’s like a quiet kind of excitement, the kind that bubbles under your skin without asking permission. azzi’s words still echo in her head—caroline said i need to be there now—and paige can’t help but smile. she loves the way azzi always seems to have that effortless urgency in everything she does.

“okay,” paige mutters to herself, almost out loud. she gives her reflection one last glance in the mirror, then grabs her phone, half-expecting to see something from carol. instead, it’s just a little text thread—one from yanna, one from aubrey, one from ice. she knows they’re all on the same wavelength, even when the whole thing feels a little like a secret mission.

she throws the phone on the bed and heads straight for the shower. the water hits her skin like it’s supposed to reset her, wash away any doubt. but all she can think about is azzi—how she walks, how she talks, the way she smiles like she’s got the world figured out but doesn’t quite realize it. paige's hands work quickly, almost without thought, scrubbing off the remnants of sleep.

after a couple minutes, she’s out, towel wrapped around her, thinking about how this whole thing is just... perfect. she doesn’t even have to try. it all just works. that feeling comes again, the kind where you know you’re exactly where you need to be. no second guessing.

paige pulls on a white button-up shirt. it’s soft, the kind that feels like it belongs to her, even though it’s new. the white knitted shorts follow, comfy but giving her a little more pep in her step than she’s willing to admit. her sneakers—too clean, a little too polished for the vibe she’s going for—but she doesn’t mind. the crispness of the whole outfit feels like it belongs in a scene she can’t quite place yet, but she’s sure it’s coming.

she checks herself out in the mirror for just a second, maybe a little longer than she should. but there’s something about the way she looks tonight—like she’s finally getting it right. no mirrors, no nothing. just her and the fact that it feels good.

her hand moves almost instinctively to the perfume on the dresser, that perfect spray of valentino born in uomo. it’s a little spicy, a little sweet, and something about it always feels like it’s made for the moments she wants to remember. she wonders if azzi will notice the scent, the way it fills the room when she walks in. probably. azzi notices everything.

the little details start to matter more as paige grabs her purple glasses from the dresser and puts them on. they make her feel... something. maybe a little more herself. wallet? check. hotel keycard? check. she texts aubrey and ice, her fingers a little quicker than usual: "ready?" their reply is simple, "yuhh," but it’s enough.

paige takes a second, standing there in the middle of the room, just feeling right. the kind of right where everything is in sync, even if no one else can see it. her phone buzzes again, and she knows it’s time. she slides it into her pocket, takes one last look at the room—the quiet of it, the small pieces of her scattered across the space—and smiles to herself.

this is it. this is her night. and somehow, everything is falling exactly where it’s supposed to.

the air in the hotel lobby felt electric, buzzing with the kind of tension that makes your skin tingle in anticipation. ice broke the silence first, her voice smooth like silk, but with a touch of mischief. “ yanna’s got the piano all set up. you know she’s not gonna let that intro be anything less than fire.” paige’s grin stretched, a glint of excitement in her eyes. it was like she had a secret tucked away in her pocket that only they knew. aubrey was already in position for the drums, a confident beat thumping in her chest, and ice was practically itching to make that guitar sing.

paige’s eyes flicked over to them, her smile widening. “alright, y’all, big fish on three,” she said, like it was the opening line of a whispered secret. aubrey shot a side-eye, clearly trying to figure out if this was one of paige’s usual antics, but shrugged. “one, two, three,” paige counted, and the words "big fish" left their lips with the kind of rhythm that felt like they were ready for a wave to crash over them. it was silly, sure, but there was something about it that made it feel like a secret handshake—a bond only they shared.

they moved through the bar with the stealth of shadows, careful not to draw attention to themselves, though the air seemed to swirl around them in an unspoken kind of choreography. the place was alive with chatter, the clinking of glasses, and the soft hum of voices that faded into the background like a forgotten melody. they slipped through, unnoticed, until they found themselves backstage. ayanna was already there, standing tall next to the piano like she owned it, her fingers dancing across the keys in a way that made the instrument hum back at her. each movement was deliberate, effortless, like she was coaxing the notes into submission.

their outfits were on point—white, cream, and soft as fresh snowfall, each piece working in harmony like the notes of a well-played symphony. paige, always the planner, had put it together with the precision of an artist creating a masterpiece. it wasn’t just clothes, it was the uniform of something bigger, something special. caroline, of course, had the backing track locked down, the rhythm of their performance already cued up, like the gears of a well-oiled machine that was about to spring to life.

as they took their positions, the air seemed to hum louder, the weight of the moment pressing down on them. it was almost like the bar had become a different space, one that held its breath, waiting for what was about to unfold. the staff member approached them, his eyes flickering with curiosity. “ready?” he asked, and they nodded, as if the entire universe had whispered the answer in perfect harmony.

the lights flickered.

azzi, sitting at a table with caroline, kk, and nika, froze. her eyes scanned the darkened room like a puzzle she couldn’t quite solve. “bro, are you joking?” she muttered, her voice a mixture of disbelief and a touch of amusement.

they all tried to play it cool, chuckling softly, but something electric sparked in the air. the moment was building, and they could all feel it. then, the bar staff member’s voice rang out, thick with that unmistakable spanish accent. “ladies and gentlemen, please welcome your one and only... big fish.”

and just like that, the lights stayed out, but they were already in place. the darkness only heightened the anticipation, like the calm before a storm, and they knew—when those lights flickered back on, everything would change. it was chaos, it was perfect, and it was exactly what they needed. the waiting had never felt so sweet.

aubrey was behind the drums, tambourine hanging around her neck like it was part of her dna, that jingle following her every move. ice, all laid-back energy, had her guitar slung low, fingers gliding over the strings like she was born to do this. paige, front and center, holding a dirty shirley like it was the most casual thing in the world, her foot tapping to the beat—she was a whole vibe, like the crowd was her stage and she was just inviting them into her world. ayanna, lost in her own universe at the piano, fingers dancing over the keys, completely locked into the music. it was one of those moments where the world could stop turning and they wouldn’t even notice.

the rest of the team, though? they hadn’t fully grasped what was happening. they were still in the pre-game buzz, chatting and laughing, oblivious to the magic happening just a few feet away. and then, the lights hit—soft, pulsing, teasing. first, a hint of paige’s silhouette, standing there at the mic.

“wait... is that paige?” azzi’s voice was a little incredulous, like she couldn’t quite believe what was happening in front of her. her eyes were locked on the stage, and she couldn’t help but squint, trying to make sense of the scene unfolding before her.

kk, always the spark to any fire, was the first to ignite. “P boogers!!” she shouted, her voice cracking the stillness like the first strike of thunder before a storm. her hands shot up, fingers almost trembling with anticipation, her energy filling the space like an invisible pulse. everything around them shifted—like the air itself was changing course. the crowd, once just background noise, suddenly felt alive, drawing in and expanding like a ripple on a pond. a few tipsy souls, some just trying to keep up, but all swept into the moment’s electric pull.

nika, standing just a breath away from her, narrowed her eyes, a knowing smirk tugging at her lips. “did you... take something? ‘cause you’re, like, otherworldly right now.” she asked, voice a mix of concern and pure amusement, her gaze flicking between kk and the chaos she’d just stirred.

the bar? it wasn’t just a bar anymore. it was an entity unto itself, humming with the rhythm of life, the music weaving between people like it had its own pulse. the air thickened with laughter, clapping, the occasional whistle—a living, breathing organism made of bodies, of voices, of people finding themselves lost in the collective chaos. time felt like it didn’t exist here. the energy wasn’t just felt; it was seen in the way people moved, the way the lights seemed to swirl a little faster, the way the floor almost moved beneath them, like it was in sync with their every breath. it spilled over, bled out into the night like a flood, too much to contain within these walls, too real to be anything but electric.

as the lights flickered and revealed the full band, azzi couldn’t hold back a scream. “oh my god” she almost couldn’t process it, but the excitement in her voice was undeniable. the realization hit her all at once, and she couldn’t help but laugh in disbelief.

kk, always ready to document every moment, whipped out her phone, snapping pictures as the strangers around them clapped in approval. it was like the room had become one big, living thing—buzzing, vibrating with every note.

the light shifted again, and paige was standing there, taking it all in. her foot tapping, her dirty shirley almost like a prop in her hand, and azzi couldn’t help but ask, “how many of those has she had?” she chuckled, but caroline just smiled and whispered, “just watch.”

and oh, they did.

the melody kicked in, smooth and effortless, like it had always been meant to be this way. aubrey’s drums were keeping the heartbeat alive, ice was in her own world with that guitar, and ayanna was so focused, you could see her pouring every ounce of her into each key. it was like they had all practiced for years, yet it felt brand new, fresh in the way only real chemistry could create.

paige turned to the crowd, and out came the pink heart-shaped sunglasses. she slid them on with the kind of casual confidence that made everyone in the room lean in. the crowd went wild—some were drunk, some were just swept up in the magic. and paige? she was in her element, completely at home. she turned to the mic, the first notes leaving her lips like they were the only thing that mattered.

"you're just too good to be true..."

paige’s gaze meets azzi’s, and everything else fades—just for a second, the whole bar could’ve frozen, like time itself took a breath. azzi’s cheeks heat up, a playful glare shooting paige’s way. “i hate you,” she mouths, but it’s the kind of “i hate you” that feels like a secret they’re both in on. paige grins, eyes sparkling, knowing exactly what’s going on, like she’s unraveling azzi one small moment at a time.

"can't take my eyes off of you..."

the bar explodes in a wave of sound—laughter, clapping, voices rising in sync. it’s like the whole room is tangled up in the rhythm, but it’s paige who’s holding the thread, pulling everyone along with her. even coach, who’s probably only ever heard this track at some distant cousin’s wedding, can’t help but crack a smile. there’s something about the way paige owns it, like she knew this song would crack open the night in just the right way. and it’s working. perfectly..

"you'd be like heaven to touch..."

paige’s finger jabs toward azzi, and with a wink that’s got all the charm of a rom-com hero, she belts it like she owns the world. her voice isn’t smooth, no—it’s rough-edged and real, like it’s been pulled straight from her chest, jagged and raw, but with this fire that makes everything else burn brighter. the crowd leans in, the buzz of anticipation hanging heavy, thick enough to taste. it’s like the air itself is holding its breath, just waiting for what comes next.

"i wanna hold you so much..."

and here’s where the line between teasing and too real gets blurry—azzi’s eyes practically roll out of her skull, like her body’s trying to escape the grin creeping up on her. "god, stop," she whispers, but it’s like trying to hold back the tide with her hands—too late. the grin’s already a runaway train, and there’s no stopping it now. it’s like every bit of control just slipped right through her fingers.

"at long last, love has arrived..."

paige throws her arms up like she’s unlocked the universe itself, the whole bar exploding in a chorus of screams, as if the air itself is buzzing with electricity. she’s caught in the moment, but not fully—there’s a pull in her chest, something deeper than the lights or the music. it’s azzi. always azzi. she’s the real song here, the one paige is singing to in a way no one else can hear.

"and I thank God I’m alive..."

"you're just too good to be true..."

azzi breathes out, “i can tell…” and the words drift between them, like a secret no one else is meant to hear, soft but loaded with something only paige can decode. paige’s grin shifts—sly, effortless, like she owns every inch of this moment. it’s the kind of smile that says, “this is mine, but i’m letting you have a glimpse.” her voice unfurls, soaring into the air, and aubrey’s tambourine keeps time, but it’s not just the rhythm of the song—it’s the pulse of the room, like the heartbeat of something bigger than the music, than the crowd. the energy’s so thick now, it’s contagious, slipping into the bartenders who start clapping without even thinking about it. the whole bar feels it, drawn in, caught in the pull of something that’s more than just sound—it’s a force, vibrating between them all.

"can't take my eyes off of you..."

the music swells, growing like it’s about to snap. ayanna’s fingers are pressed into the piano keys like she’s pulling every ounce of emotion from them. ice and aubrey are in their element, moving effortlessly, like the stage was built for them. and in that split second, everything just falls into place. there’s no struggle, no second-guessing—just pure, unfiltered flow. it’s the kind of right that makes everything else fade, leaving only the sound of this perfect moment that could never be recreated.

"pardon the way that i stare..."

paige sings it like she’s auditioning for the role of “the most dramatic lover ever,” her voice rising and falling, pulling every ounce of emotion into the words. she’s got the crowd wrapped around her finger, and it feels like the whole place is living in her melody.

"there's nothin' else to compare..."

paige, with her mic in one hand and her dirty shirley in the other, throws in this little exaggerated sway of her hips like she’s turning a casual song into a Broadway performance. people in the bar laugh and cheer, but it’s obvious—this girl’s got all the attention she needs.

"the sight of you leaves me weak..."

the lights catch paige at just the right moment—her hand lifts, and she looks over at azzi with this look that could melt glass. "there are no words left to speak..." the crowd’s gone wild now, lost in the vibe. but paige? she’s focused, eyes locked onto azzi, drawing strength from her like it’s the last drop of water in a desert.

"but if you feel like I feel..."

"please let me know that it’s real..."

paige’s voice is a low murmur now, something between a whisper and a prayer. it’s real. in the pause, the whole bar is holding its breath, waiting for something more—waiting for her to pull the rest of the world into the song.

"you're just too good to be true..."

paige’s hips move, the mic in one hand and the dirty shirley still resting in the other. she’s doing the thing—completely in the moment, completely alive. the band’s in sync, the music intensifies, and paige, for a second, just pauses, looking at the band, soaking it all in. it’s a moment for her to breathe, and maybe a moment to remind herself that this—this feels like home.

just as she takes a sip from her shirley, she’s ready for the next verse. the music swells, and everything around her feels like it’s just beginning, like they’ve crossed into another world entirely.

"can't take my eyes off of you..."

paige was practically gliding across the bar floor, one hand holding the mic like it was her lifeline, the other cradling her dirty shirley, the ice cubes clinking like they were keeping time with the beat. she was doing this thing now, making moves like it was a private concert just for azzi, the mic swinging in time with her hips, and the crowd? the crowd was losing it.

she didn't need the spotlight to feel like she was the center of the universe. she had azzi’s eyes on her, and that was all she needed.

just as she took a sip from the shirley, the next line hit her like it was written just for this moment.

"i love you, baby!" paige belts out, her voice cracking just enough to make it real, and she points directly at azzi, whose face immediately disappears behind her hands like she could hide from the world. but paige wasn’t letting her get away that easily.

"and if it’s quite all right!" paige’s voice goes soft, like she’s making a secret confession just for azzi, but her eyes? they stay locked onto her like a magnet. like this was her stage, and nothing else mattered. the crowd? yeah, they were there, sure. but to paige, it was just azzi.

the vibe in the bar shifted, like someone flipped a switch. in the back, someone waved their phone flashlight around like they were at a concert, and kk? she was losing it, snapping pictures like she was at a red carpet event, her laugh loud enough to shake the walls. nika’s whoop cut through the air as she banged on the table, hitting the beat with paige like she was the only one in the room who knew what mattered. she wasn’t just hyping paige up—she was living for it, like this was the moment that could change everything.

azzi, though? she was practically melting under the attention, trying to will herself invisible. her face buried in her hands, shoulders shaking from the laughter she couldn't hold back.

"i need you, baby!" paige sings it like a promise, a vow. and then she does this thing, this bold, ridiculous, beautiful thing—she presses a hand to her chest, the kind of move that screams cheesy rom-com hero. then, she reaches for azzi’s hand, and of course, azzi pulls back like the touch is a hot stove. but paige? she’s not having any of it. she steps even closer, her voice dropping into that soft, sultry register, "to warm a lonely night."

paige wasn’t backing down. she never did.

azzi, meanwhile, was a mess. a laughing, blushing, absolutely done mess. how could she not be, when paige was out here, one knee on the sticky floor of the bar, singing like her whole soul was poured into it? paige was the kind of crazy that made you love her for it.

"i love you, baby... trust in me when i saaaay—!"

and that’s when paige snapped, flinging both arms out like she was the queen of this moment, aubrey’s tambourine shaking wildly. and in perfect harmony with her, the entire bar—teammates, strangers, even the bartender—shouted it back at her:

"OH, PRETTY BABY!"

azz groaned, dragging her hands down her face in this exaggerated, perfectly azzi way, but it didn’t matter. paige had already won. the way paige grinned, moving in closer, the challenge in her gaze—it was almost daring azzi to run, to hide. but no. no one could outrun this energy.

"don’t bring me down I pray"

"oh, pretty baby," paige sang, her voice dropping a little lower, leaning in like she was about to whisper something only azzi was meant to hear. the kind of secret you want to keep but can’t help sharing because it's too good not to. "now that i’ve found you, stay." the words hung in the air, sticky sweet, like honey dripping off a spoon, but that smirk—god, it wasn’t helping azzi.

azzi, trying so hard to keep her composure, just blinked, but paige wasn’t done.

"and let me love you, baby," she added, her voice soft and full of promise, the wink she threw next practically a VIP pass to every wild, spontaneous, chaotic thing she’d ever dreamed up. azzi felt her chest tighten, a little flutter in her stomach, and that’s when she knew she was way too gone for this girl.

"let me love you," paige finished, and that grin—that grin. it was so wide azzi swore she could see it in her sleep..

azz rolled her eyes, but it was so half-hearted. because, really, who was she kidding? she was done for. completely and totally.

the music surged on, a steady rhythm that was alive and pulsing through the bar, and paige set the mic down with a casual flick of her wrist, like it wasn’t even a big deal. like she wasn’t causing azzi to short-circuit with every word she said. with a laugh, paige grabbed her dirty shirley, chugging it like it was just another tuesday.

“yo, get loud for the band!” she shouted to the crowd, her voice cutting through the dim hum of the bar. aubrey’s tambourine was ringing, a sharp jingle-jangle that felt like it was rattling straight through azzi’s chest. ayanna was doing her thing on the piano, fingers dancing over the keys like she was born for it, and ice? ice was shivering the air with her guitar, smooth and sweet, like every note was just a little kiss to the soul.

it wasn’t just a song now—it was a whole damn show, and paige was at the center of it, pulling everyone in with the kind of raw, messy energy that had azzi completely wrapped around her finger.

“are those dirty shirleys?” azzi mutters to carol, eyebrows raised. paige, somewhere across the bar, is swaying a little too much, lips buzzing with the kind of energy that only comes when you’re wasted. her laugh, loud and unapologetic, echoes over the buzz of the crowd. yup, she’s gone.

carol, not even looking at her, just nods. “yup, go up to her. go. what’s stopping you?”

"you serious?" azzi shoots back, giving her a look that says: no way.

but carol’s grinning now, hands in the air like she's setting azzi free for the night. “go, girl.”

oh god, azzi thinks. of course you’d say that.

and yet—something pulls her in. the chaos of the bar, the loud voices, the music, the sloshing of drinks—everything fades as azzi watches paige turn, back to the crowd, clapping along to the beat. paige’s movements are too natural, like she’s built for this, built for the spotlight. and maybe she is, because it feels like the whole room is just watching her.

stop staring, azzi tells herself, but it’s no use. she can’t help it. not when she’s got that look.

with a sigh, azzi pushes herself forward, her steps automatic, like she’s done this a thousand times. she’s right there, the crowd around her buzzing, but it’s all background noise to her. she’s looking at paige now—paige, all glowing skin and messy hair, like she doesn’t even realize how much she’s pulling everyone in.

when azzi gets close, she doesn’t think, she just does. hands on paige’s shoulders, spinning her around. the whole world stops for a second.

paige’s eyes widen in that too-sweet, too-innocent way, and without thinking, azzi’s lips are on hers. and it's everything—too much, but in the best way. the feel of paige’s lips soft but demanding, that familiar heat, the smell of alcohol mixed with something else—something addictive. paige doesn’t hold back, not for a second. she pulls azzi closer, squeezes her ass, the pressure of it like an electric shock.

“you smell like vodka,” azzi breathes out, laughing, half-dazed from the kiss, but also feeling like her entire body’s on fire. she doesn’t care if it’s messy, if it’s a little chaotic.

paige pulls away just enough to grin that wild grin of hers. “you love it,” she slurs, her voice thick and slow, pulling azzi back in for a kiss to her neck that makes her heart skip. it’s so her. so paige.

and then, without warning, paige picks her up like it’s nothing, and the crowd goes crazy. it’s like a concert now, everyone screaming, cheering, their voices lifting into something loud, something tangible. paige doesn’t even flinch. she just shouts, “get loud, everyone!” like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

and azzi? azzi can’t even breathe. she’s lost. her eyes are locked on paige, on the way she’s holding her, how her muscles flex beneath her skin, the sweat on her neck, the strength in her arms. she can feel it—everything. the rawness. she couldn’t keep her eyes off her.

in a whisper, barely audible over the noise, azzi murmurs, “wanna go back?” but she already knows the answer.

paige grins, the kind of grin that makes azzi’s chest tighten. “baby, i got fans here. don’t you see them?” she gestures, still playing it cool, and azzi? she just rolls her eyes. of course she does.

but she doesn’t hesitate. she takes paige’s hand, pulling her off the stage and into the sea of noise, leading her out the door. it’s almost like they—them—are the only thing that matters right now.

the teammates? they’re dying laughing, of course. they know exactly what’s coming, already screaming because they know what’s going down. no one’s even pretending to be shocked anymore.

and azzi? she just keeps pulling paige, a smile creeping up on her face. there’s something about this—about her—that makes everything else fade. the world’s still spinning, the night still young, but nothing matters. because it’s just them.

and god, it’s going to be a long night.

[deepspacedarling]

Could you do some headcanons about how the lads would react to having g partner that wants to wait to have sex until marriage (thinking along the lines of non-MC)? Is it a dealbreaker for them? Would they try to pressure or tempt the reader into changing their mind?

The LADS Boys Waiting Until Marriage

Warnings: Suggestive language

AN: Sure thing, Anon! I tried to keep this PG because of the subject matter. Overall I think in general none of the boys would mind but that wouldn't make for a good post so here's a few more individualized ideas.

Xavier, Zayne, Rafayel, Sylus, Caleb

Xavier

Xavier wouldn't mind. He's a bit of a horndog but if it means keeping you comfortable, he can wait. He'd probably be a little slow to understanding why you want to wait but he'd agree easily enough.

He'd probably get more clingy in other ways to make up for the lack of sexual contact. More cuddles and brief kisses on the couch during movie nights, holding your hand more when you walk together outside, you playing with his hair while he rests his head in your lap. As long as he's getting some kind of physical touch from you, he's content.

Zayne

Zayne would ask some clarifying questions but other than that, he'd be perfectly fine with waiting. While sex is nice, he prefers to have you comfortable around him. He's not so much of a horndog that he can't wait.

He lets you lead for the most part when it comes to intimacy. He'll initiate small things like hand holding and forehead kisses but he's a little too worried about upsetting you to do anything too risque. As your relationship progresses, he'll find a good rhythm with you.

Rafayel

Rafayel would be surprised but he'd accept it easily enough. He'd probably ask why you have such a traditional view (and ask the question in that sarcastic tone of his) but overall, he's fine with it.

He's a touchy feely kind of guy so you'll have to tell him if he's making you uncomfortable. He's quick to stop and give you space but you can also tell he's a little frustrated. While he's the King of Complaining, he doesn't ever complain about your wanting to be comfortable. He's a little sexually frustrated but he'll get over it.

Sylus

Sylus wouldn't question it much. He'd make a teasing off hand comment before dropping the subject in general. It's your choice and he's been waiting for you for so long, what's a little more time? He's a patient man.

After that, he'd be more careful with physical intimacy. When things get a little too close for comfort, he's always the first to break it off. He doesn't want you to feel unsafe with him or like he's disregarding your choice so he usually pulls the plug before even you can.

Caleb

Caleb probably already knew that about you. He knows everything about you. He's more than willing to wait if it means you're comfortable. The anticipation alone will drive him crazy but it'll be worth it.

Sometimes when you're kissing, he can get a little too handsy. You usually remind him and he's quick to apologize and stop. He'll have to go deal with his little (definitely not little) problem on his own in the bathroom but he's never upset about it. You're worth the wait.

(Requests are Open!)

[cupcakewebkinz]

You know, I was thinking about an idea I had then realized just how angsty it would be on one side and how much fluff it would be on the other and I'm curious about other people's ideas too ngl

So like, I was toying around with the idea of Shanon coming back to Gardenview and snatching up the loser lesbians and bringing them home with her to save from... Whatever happened. Shanon has no idea, she was never allowed to know, so she just has two VERY traumatized toons now. She'll know how to keep Shelly entertained and happy, she was ALWAYS with Shelly, but I highly doubt she'd know how to keep Vee in check at all.

Vee would probably quickly spiral into a mental crisis about it too, as now everything has been destroyed in her eyes. Nobody remembers her gameshows because they ended years ago, nobody remembers her because Gardenview closed years ago, nobody's interested in learning about her as she's outdated technology to them now. She'd be alone, only able to quiz Shelly now, but she's heard all her questions and knows all the answers by now. She'd probably start self isolating because she just doesn't know what to do with herself, lashing out at Shanon because she genuinely doesn't understand why people aren't fans of her anymore and wants to blame someone except herself. She would be such a wreck and probably have major beef with any new technology Shanon brings home because it replaced her in her mind. Vee is now just... Vee. She's not a celebrity any more, she's not loved by anyone except the toon handler who took her in and her now popular dinosaur girlfriend, and she would not have a clue what to do about it.

Shelly would most likely have the opposite problem, she looks like a living toon just wandering around like she's a common sight to see - of course people would notice! Kids would ask her about fossils and she'd happily tell them all about what she is and their minds would be blown by how much she knows, she'd probably be asked to play by kids who think she looks really neat and be dragged to the sandbox to 'fossil hunt' whenever Shanon takes them to the park. Shanon very much would hide plastic fossils in there too just to see Shelly smile, like she used to before her museum shut down. She'd be such an interesting sight to see that she'd get stared at, often asked what she actually is, and probably would be the talk of the town for a while. Eventually everyone would know that Shelly is just there to have fun, don't bother her too much, but at first everyone would be so shocked by a living breathing toon they'd swarm the poor thing! I'm sure Shelly would be just a little irritated by the constant unwarranted attention and stares, but so happy she's no longer forgotten.

Their roles would reverse is what I'm getting at here. It gives so much Vee angst to work with and Shelly comfort... I am brainrotting over this idea if that's not obvious

[zepskies]

Aw yay!! I'm really happy to hear that. 🥰😘

I just felt like there was a little more to explore in the time gaps of Part 2, namely with some important conversations that would've had to happen after reader and Dean finally get together at the end and before the wedding. 😅

And Benny honestly started to frustrate me the most the longer I thought about him (not me trying to find the only thing wrong with that man lol). It doesn’t take away from him being a class act at the end there, but he honestly was a bit of a shitty friend to Dean. If we relate it back to Friends and Joey’s feelings for Rachel, he always, always, always put his his friendship with Ross first and was willing to suffer. I truly think he would’ve sold his soul to get them back together, no matter how much it would have hurt him 🥲💔 And I don’t see that priority with Benny. Even during the visit at the hospital, instead of telling reader she won’t be alone because Dean will get his act together, he implied that he will be there. But he should’ve walked right out of there, pulled Dean aside and told him his baby momma is afraid of being alone, that Dean might have a real shot there, and if he truly wants this, he should stop with all that Lisa bullshit and fight for his family 🤷‍♀️

Omg you're so right! With Joey it was always clear that he was willing to self-sacrifice rather than hurt Ross. I think of all the "friends," Joey had the biggest heart. 💗

Whereas here, Benny was pretty selfish to go after the reader, thinking Dean was all wrapped up with Lisa and didn't want her like he did. 🤔 I so agree with you that Benny really should've "real talked" with Dean - asking him what he's doing with Lisa when clearly the reader needs his support. In that sense, Benny was an opportunist -- he stepped in where Dean should've been, intentionally wanting to be that guy.

Secondly, I totally can see that Dean didn’t make a move all this time because he was so scared of getting rejected again. And Lisa was available and offering, so he pretty much settled, thinking he’d never have a shot with reader. Makes complete sense to me and is definitely a trademark Dean move 🤓

BIG YEP. That was the crux of it with Dean - he was young and scared of a second rejection, and afraid to "mess up her life" even more, even though she 100% doesn't see it that way. It's the typical Dean self-worth issues wrapped in AU clothes. 😅🙃💙 (This is 💯 one of those issues that's going to be explored in the epilogue)

And PS: Your friend probably did cut out coffee. A lot of women do. Either because they want to or because it’s still a common misconception (I thought that too, but all the books said a cup is allowed). Knowing you’re a coffee lover, I just wanted you to know you’re allowed to have that life-saving cup in the morning 😘💜

Ahhh thank you!! In the future if you don't mind, I might hit you up with a pregnancy question if I run into one of these ideas in a fic. 😆😆

Girl yes, my Cuban blood would probably stop flowing. 🤪☕ I think I would die if I didn't have my 1 cup per day to wake me up in the morning. Like I tell my family, "I'm not even breathing yet. Don't talk to me."

Aw I'm so glad you love your tag! 😘 Wanted to give you some lovely alliteration back from one writer nerd to another.~

IF I STAY - Part 2

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Plus-Sized!Reader

Summary: Your dream is to work with kids as an elementary school teacher. Dean is well on his way to becoming a firefighter, keeping things light and “strings unattached” as he goes. After a one-night stand you never saw coming, you and Dean are forced to deal with the consequences…and figure out if the connection between you is worth fighting for.

AN: Deep breaths Are you ready for a rollercoaster of emotions? 😘❤️

Song Inspo: “I Can’t Help Falling in Love” and “It’s Now or Never” by Elvis

Word Count: 13.1K

Tags/Warnings: Angst, pregnancy feels, hurt/comfort, fluff, time jumps and flashbacks, sexual tension, mutual pining, spice~, and an ending…

❤️‍🔥 If I Stay Masterlist

Part 2: It’s Now or Never

At the doctor’s office, Dean goes in with you for the first trimester ultrasound. There you learn that you’re going to have a boy. Tears well up in your eyes and slip down your cheeks.

Dean wears a look of amazement as he sits on the edge of your bed. He takes up your hand and squeezes gently. He tries to be a strong support, even though he also tries to hide the fear that begins to churn in his gut.

For one of the first times in his life since Sam was born, he feels the weight of responsibility pressing down on him. In a good way. In a fucking scary way.

He looks at you and sees the wonder written across your face while you watch the tiny shape of your baby on the screen. His heartbeat thwaps fast and loud in the speakers.

Dean realizes something else then; the decision you're making is changing the course of your whole damn life…and it’s his fault.

With his weekly hookup rate, in the very back shelves of his mind he knew something like this could happen, even though he thought he'd been careful. (Apparently, condoms are fragile little shits.) But here, in this white wall-to-wall room that smells like hospital antiseptic, that thwap thwap thwap of a heartbeat reverberating in his ears, the reality of this is crashing hard on his shoulders and rattling down to the base of his spine.

Despite his earlier happiness, those thoughts stay with him when you two eventually get back into his car. You have the pictures of the sonogram in your hands. You smile down at them before you put them back in your purse for safekeeping.

However, you notice Dean’s sudden melancholy as he stares out at the road. He’s started the car, but he hasn’t moved to pull out of the parking lot yet.

“Hey, you okay?” you say, resting a gentle hand on his arm.

Dean shakes his head. “Look…I’m sorry for tossing a giant friggin’ monkey wrench into your life. I know this hasn’t been easy for you.”

If possible, your heart softens even more. You slide your hand down to grasp his.

“Dean, this baby wasn’t planned, but he’s not a mistake,” you say. “I don’t regret anything.”

Dean stares back at you, incredulously. He can’t believe you could really say that to him. He doesn’t know what to say. He only knows what’s in his mind, and what he feels compelled to do in that moment.

He leans over and kisses you. It’s a firm meeting of his lips to yours and achingly familiar. But ultimately, it’s chaste. He pulls away and settles back in his seat.

When you blink your eyes back open, your expression is slack in shock.

“I’m sorry,” he says, seeming sheepish, and guilty. “I meant to say thank you. Just didn’t know any other way to say it.”

After a moment, you smile at him. It’s warm and almost shy.

Dean clears his throat, trying to ignore the way his face is heating up. He doesn’t say anything more. He just takes the wheel and shifts gears, pulling the car out of the parking lot. 

You don’t know what possesses you to bake cookies. Dozens and dozens of them, all the chocolate chip cookie recipes you can find. You’re in search of the perfect one. This will be the recipe your son will grow up on, and every time he eats them, he’ll remember how much you loved him.

And then, he’ll be ruined for any other chocolate chip cookies that try to grab his taste buds. He’ll say, Blech. Chips Ahoy? These aren’t as good as Mom makes!

…Or something like that.

Yes, these cookies have to be perfect. You’ll even write the ingredients down on a notecard and hide it away, and it’ll become your family secret recipe.

Once you feel like your cookie game is strong enough, you decide to test these babies out. You bring two dozen painstakingly baked confections to Firehouse 83, where Dean works. The man is a bottomless pit, to be sure, but you also want other people’s unbiased opinions. For science.

You park your car on the side of the road, making sure you’re not blocking the driveway where two huge fire trucks are parked. You head inside the firehouse with your big container under your arm and your purse on the other. Now at seven months into your pregnancy, you’ve gotten to the embarrassing “waddle” stage.

You’re still determined to be active though! You plan to keep working until you have the baby. Your parents live a few hours away, but you’re grateful that they want to help out as much as possible.

Even though they weren’t happy to hear about how you got pregnant, by now they've met Dean and begrudgingly admitted to liking him. He's really stepped up to the responsibility of a future father, insisting on baby-proofing your apartment, helping you shop for the essentials, and going with you to as many doctor’s appointments as he can. He’s even agreed to giving you child support payments, even though you hadn’t wanted to ask for it.

You look for him now as you enter the firehouse, trying to push the heavy glass door open with one hand.

“Here, I got you,” says a familiar baritone voice.

You’re pleasantly surprised at the man who helps you inside.

“Benny! It’s good to see you.”

“Yeah, been…a while,” he chuckles, glancing down at the swell of your belly, but he squeezes your shoulder and leans in to hug you gently.

“Dean filled you in?” you ask. You hope so. Having to explain the story to one of his own friends would be embarrassing, especially since this is the man you walked in Sam’s wedding with. It reminds you of that day, and the way you told Dean that news in a glorified closet, with shaking hands and the wrong kind of butterflies.

Thankfully, Benny nods. “That he did…but come on, I’ll show you around. And I see you’ve brought somethin’ special for us?”

He gestures at the container you're holding and offers to take it off your hands. You give it to him, grateful for the help.

“Yeah, and I want you guys to give me your honest opinion.”

Benny tosses you a wink and a smile. “That I can do.”

Your cheeks begin to warm in a blush, but the way he helps you to a comfy couch in the common room earns your smile. There are still good men left in this world, and you’re glad to know that Dean works so well with one.

“You want some coffee, or water? Think we might have some lemonade,” Benny says.

“Water would be great, thank you,” you reply, as you rub your belly. The little man has decided to kick at your liver today. “I stopped drinking coffee for the baby. ”

It's your biggest challenge, to be honest. Try wrangling a group of fifteen to twenty six-year-olds while running on green tea, the fumes of sleep deprivation, reduced bladder control, and as much vim as you can muster.

“Ah, right,” Benny nods. “My sister has two kids. She cut out coffee, pain meds, some dairy stuff. But she claimed cheesecake was all right, ‘cause it’s got cake in the name.”

You giggle. “I see no flaw in her logic.”

Down the hall of the firehouse, Dean is just coming back in from going through a set of drills. He’s still the Candidate—the freshest blood in the house—so they’ve been putting him through his paces for the past several months. He’s eager to learn and to prove himself.

His ears perk up in confusion though. Did he just hear your voice?

Why does it smell like a bakery in here?

When he rounds the corner, he sees you in the common room, smiling and giggling like a teenager at something Benny said to you while he eats a soft baked cookie right out of a Tupperware container. You must’ve brought it for the firehouse.

This cozy little scene kind of annoys Dean somehow, though he doesn’t know why. He does know that it shouldn’t.

“Hey, look who’s here,” Dean says, forcing himself to smile. It becomes easier when you look his way, your eyes brightening at his arrival.

“There you are! Come ‘ere and try these,” you say, pointing at the box Benny holds. “Tell me if our son’s going to have the best PTA mom ever.”

Dean can’t help but grin after trying a big bite of one of your cookies.

“Oh, mah Gah,” he says, holding a hand under his mouth so nothing comes crumbling out.

“Good?” you ask.

“Good friggin’ cookie,” he confirms, after he swallows. “You’re gonna have the other parents frothing at the mouth. Who’s gonna be able to compete with this?”

Benny nods in agreement. When Dean squeezes your shoulder, your sweet, happy smile makes him smile too.

She’s going to be a good mom, he thinks. He can only hope against hope that he can be the man his son needs.

Two months later, the time has finally come. Your water breaks when you’re in the middle of teaching your second graders how to spell exaggerate—and no, Joey, it’s not e-g-g-zagerate.

However, the embarrassment of him pointing out the fluid beginning to stain your slacks is swiftly cut off by your shock. Your first call is to the principal, to have her send someone to cover your class. Your next call is to Dean, telling him to meet you at the hospital.

“Why the hell did he have to bring her,” you mutter to yourself, wiping sweat from your brow. Here you are, gritting your teeth through contraction after contraction in this damn hospital bed, and Dean is outside the room talking to Lisa.

You know you have no real reason to be upset. She’s been trying her best to be your friend in recent months. Hell, she helped Eileen and your mom plan your baby shower. She even brought you flowers when she got to the hospital, but you notice how less than five minutes after she got here, she and Dean became embroiled in yet another argument. It seems to you that all they do is argue, break up for a week or two, and then get back together again.

The sex must be explosive, like the fireworks at goddamn Disney World.

But Dean eventually does come back into the room alone. His support grounds you over the next few hours. He lets you basically break his hand, all while he gives you encouragement (and stands by your shoulder, so he doesn’t see anything you’d rather him not see).

And then, your son is born. Every muscle, every cell in your body is exhausted, but the pain meds have kicked in, and you’re in that blissed out state between abject reality and being entirely entranced by the bundle in your arms. His perfect face is just there, sleeping for the moment after the nurses taught you how to breastfeed.

Dean returns to sit in the chair beside you. He gives you some water and a piece of a protein bar. You’re not that hungry, but he pointed out that you haven’t eaten since before your water broke.

“Sam and Eileen are on their way up,” he says.

You nod in reply. You’re too into your son right now to think of anything else.

Dean shakes his head in wonder as he reaches out with a tentative hand, brushing his fingers over the baby’s downy head. He was born with a little tuft of brown hair.

“Okay, down to business,” Dean says, shooting you a playful look. “I vote for Zeppelin.”

You groan. “Dean, no. Veto. I’m not naming my son after a rock band.”

“Aw, come on. It’s a badass name!”

“What about Aiden?” you suggest.

“Veto,” he snorts. You two agreed to getting five “vetos” each, but this discussion has been more like a battle of wills over the last several months.

“Okay, what about Daniel? That’s strong, classic,” you pose.

Dean considers it with a tilt of his head. “All right, that one’s a maybe.”

Again, he strokes the baby’s soft cheek. You look over at Dean with a small smile.

“You’re going to be a good dad, you know,” you tell him. It earns his gaze. Although he’s trying to stay strong, you read the hidden insecurity there, the worry and fear. You rest a hand on his arm. “You are, Dean. You’re a good man, and you’ve really stepped up these past few months. This obviously isn’t how either of us thought our lives would go, but if this had to happen with someone, I’m glad it’s you.”

Dean’s expression softens. He hesitates, but he lays a hand over yours and squeezes gently.

“Thanks,” he says.

Your eyes meet, and it’s a moment charged with something you can’t even name. It’s not the first time you’ve felt this feeling with him. It both fills your heart with warmth, and makes you ache.

Then the door opens. It’s Lisa, Sam, and Eileen. Dean’s hand slips away from yours as they all pour in to congratulate you and Dean, and of course, meet the baby. There’s a lot of soft cooing and playful shushing.

In that small chaos, your parents call to tell you that they’re finally almost here. It really sucked not having your mom with you, but your parents live far enough away that they were going to take a train and stay with you for at least a week. Their train unfortunately got delayed due to mechanical failure.

It's okay though. Getting through the past several hours has made you realize that you’re stronger and more capable than you think, and even though part of you is still scared to death, you don’t need a husband to be a good mom. You’re going to give this your all, no matter who’s beside you…

And that's no more apparent than when Dean soon has to step out again, leading Lisa out of the room. He saw how her “helpful” suggestion to have a get-together at their apartment to celebrate the baby’s birth was setting you on edge. Really, you just want to sleep for the next 24-hours and not have any more pictures of you taken.

It gets loud enough outside your hospital room that Sam and Eileen feel they have to intervene. Lisa is Eileen’s best friend, and she’s the best equipped to try and deescalate the argument from that end, while Sam deals with Dean. It’s messy, it’s irritating, and it means that even today, you can’t just have a little bit of peace.

You sigh and cradle your still nameless baby close to your chest. He’s all that matters. Already, your heart is so damn full just taking him in.

“What’s your name, my little love?” you whisper. “What am I going to write on your certificate, besides Winchester?”

“How about Benjamin,” comes a Louisiana drawl.

You perk up and smile in surprise. “Benny, hey.”

He greets you with a slightly hesitant kiss on the cheek. He’s brought the baby an adorable teddy bear, and you a beautiful bouquet of white and blue roses, along with a box of chocolates.

“It’s the assorted kind, but they’ve got plenty of the caramel ones you like,” he says, then gazes down at the baby. “Aw, he’s a little charmer. Already got more of you than Dean, that’s for sure.”

You laugh lightly at his teasing. “I don’t know about that.” You hope your son inherits Dean’s strong jaw, and his green eyes.

Benny scratches the back of his head. “Also…sorry if I’m crossing some kind of boundary here. Looks like it’s a bit of a circus outside.”

You shake your head and smile through burgeoning tears. You set the chocolates on the end table where he’s placed the flowers and the teddy bear.

“No, it’s very sweet. Thank you,” you say. You glance out the window of your room to the hallway, where the arguing between Dean, Lisa, Sam, and Eileen seems to finally be calming down. You’re so damn tired, you don’t give a crap about whatever they’re hashing out now.

You look down at your son, and despite your strong thoughts earlier, insecurity begins to creep back into your mind like inky claws.  

“How are you holding up?” Benny asks. His face is kind and concerned when he notes the change in you.

You meet him with a wobbly smile. “Honestly? I’m afraid. I know I have a lot of people who want to support me, and I’m grateful, but…I just have this terrible feeling that we’re going to end up alone, him and me.”

You look down at your son, and you have to wipe away a tear from your eye before it falls on his face.

A large, warm hand rests over yours. Your gaze raises slowly, and Benny smiles at you. He’s serious though.

“Don’t you worry about that,” he says. “You’re not gonna be alone.”

FIVE YEARS LATER... 

For all that changes, there are some things that stay the same.

Dean and Lisa are still the world’s most “off again, on again” couple you’ve ever met. Sam and Eileen are still going strong as the hardworking, driven career couple. Your son is growing more and more every day and just started kindergarten this year.

(You ultimately caved on Dean’s idea to name him Robert, as in Robert Plant, lead singer of Led Zeppelin.)

Oh, yeah, and the “you and Benny” thing? That’s been going well for two years now.

What can you say? The man is persistent, but respectfully so. He’s considerate, reliable, and always calls you when work at the firehouse has him running late.

You haven’t yet invited him to move in with you. That part you’re still hesitant on, mostly because of your son, but Benny helps you drop off Robbie at school and makes breakfast for you all whenever he stays over your apartment. Benny takes an interest in your son’s life and keeps up with all his energy, taking him to the park to run himself ragged before dinner, and helping you tuck him in at night.

Benny is a bit closed off though, the strong stoic type. He’s hard for you to get a read on, and sometimes you wonder if he’s just indulging you when you ramble on about your day or make silly jokes. Even now, sometimes you withhold the first thought that comes to your mind, hoping he doesn’t think you immature or…too much.

But Benny shows his caring in all those little things he does for you. They add up into the big things, and he makes you feel supported. He makes you feel safe.

He even helps you plan your son’s fifth birthday. Robbie wanted to go all out on a dinosaur theme; he’s been hooked on Jurassic Park ever since Benny “accidentally” let him watch it with him on one of your rare nights out with your friends.

So you set up a little party at the park by your apartment. You managed to reserve the biggest gazebo, where there are three picnic tables covered with dinosaur plates, and tablecloths, streamers in different shades of green. You even bought a big dinosaur cake—also in a radioactive green color that you hadn’t been sure about, but your son talked you into. Robbie thinks it’s awesome.

He’s running around on the playground with a few of his friends from school. Their parents (along with Sam, Eileen, and Lisa) are talking amongst themselves at one of the picnic tables while you try to figure out how to get the Bluetooth speaker to connect with your phone.

“Haha! Got it. If you're so smart, Alexa, why don't you connect on the first try?” You fist-pump the air triumphantly, just as Benny comes to your side. He wraps an arm around your waist and kisses your cheek, making you smile.

“How’s it going out there?” you ask, nodding at the kids. Plus Dean, who’s gamely been the one to keep them entertained with different games. Right now, it’s a thrilling game of Cowboys and Outlaws, where Robbie and his friends are the cowboys, and Dean is the outlaw. He’s been hiding under the slide, behind trees and other playground fixtures, while the kids have little squirt guns to pelt him with water every time they find him.

It's pretty damn cute, and you’ve been taking pictures. You smile at the sight of Dean leaping out at Robbie and the kids, catching them off guard.

“You’ll never take me alive, Sheriff!” Dean declares.

“Oh, it’s goin’,” Benny remarks with an amused shake of his head. “Still hard to believe that guy’s about to make it to Lieutenant.”

“Hahaaa, gotcha!!” Dean cackles. He’s grabbed up Robbie and yanked him over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry. Robbie screeches with laughter while his dad runs around the playground, being chased by a bunch of five-year-olds with squirt guns.

Your smile threatens to make your cheeks hurt. You know your life is…unconventional, to say the least, but Dean is a good father to your son. He’s also been working hard at his job. He just took the Lieutenant’s test, and even though Benny already occupies that position at Firehouse 83, a spot at another firehouse might open up for Dean to transfer.

“Part of me doesn’t want to,” Dean admitted to you last week, while he was working on fixing your stubborn, leaky sink. “All the guys there, they’re like family, you know?” “I understand,” you nodded. “You have to do what feels best for you, whether that’s staying where you feel comfortable, or moving up in your career somewhere else. If it doesn’t feel right, don’t do it.” He took in your advice with a slow nod. “Yeah, thanks. Guess I have to time to think about it. Lisa had other ideas.” “Of course,” you said with a smile, but it soon dropped. “Why, what did she say?” “Do what I can to move up,” he sighed. “She’s got a point. That title comes with a pay bump, one I could really use right now.” “I get that. Totally valid,” you said. “But I just think it’s important for you to be happy with it too. Especially with what you do, helping people, saving people…I’d imagine being in the right mindset for all that is important, right? Who you work with can be just as important as the money stuff.” Dean considered you with a smile. “Yeah, exactly.”

As you think about it now, you have to admit that he’s grown up a lot.

Dean has to lean against a tree to catch his breath. Am I already getting too old for this crap?

Feels kind of young to have a stitch in his side after a few rounds with these kids, but even he has his limits. Lisa comes to bring him a bottle of ice-cold water, which he appreciates. He’s tempted to dump it over his head like he does after successfully neutralizing a fire. It gets literally hot as hell under that helmet and mask and all his gear underneath.

“Need an iron lung?” Lisa teases.

“Toss in a new pair of knees, thanks,” he wheezes. He downs half the water bottle in one go, but he smiles at seeing his son keep running around with his friends. He’s just got that manic kid energy that goes on for days. But Robbie’s also smart; like Dean, he likes taking things apart and putting them back together in new and ingenious ways.

Dean hopes his son likes the new model car set that’s waiting for him on the picnic table full of presents. In fact, he’s still surprised that you didn’t go with the race car theme he suggested for the party, but apparently, Robbie’s more into dinosaurs now. Dean wishes he knew that before he bought the model car set.

He looks over and catches sight of you and Benny wrapped up in each other. He has his arm around your waist while you fiddle with something, but the way you lean over and whisper near his ear elicits a smile on Benny’s face.

Dean’s good mood diminishes.

“Well, don’t they seem cozy,” he mutters.

Lisa arches a manicured brow. “Yeah, pretty sure he’s getting ready to propose.”

That earns Dean’s attention, his head swiveling back to her in surprise.

“Really?” he asks. “Who told you that?”

“His sister,” she replies. “Meg’s in my intermediate class, remember?”

Dean nods, sipping at his water, even though he’s a bit absent in the eyes. Lisa watches him shrewdly.

“Why do you seem upset about it?” she asks. “Benny’s your friend.”

“I know,” Dean says. He doesn’t need that reminder, or the guilty twinge. It’s not like he’s done anything wrong.

“And she seems happy,” Lisa points out. “Don’t you want the mother of your kid to be with a good man who treats her right?”

He nods, trying to hide his growing annoyance. “‘Course I do. I just…I don’t know. I still don’t see them together, I guess.”

“Well, they’ve been together for like, two years.”

Again, Dean nods his acknowledgement. It’s hard for him to believe that so much time has passed already. He honestly didn’t think you and Benny would be together this long. He’d always felt a little uncomfortable with one of his best friends dating you, but you’d seemed happy about it, so he didn’t discourage it. But he’d never been very supportive, either. At least, not about your relationship.

Lisa sighs and grabs his arm, pulling him aside before he can rejoin the party.

“Listen, we need to talk about something,” she says.

Dean restrains a tired groan. “Can this wait ‘til later?”

“I think we should do this now,” she says. A hallmark Lisa-ism. She’s opinionated and strong-willed, something Dean’s always respected about her. Sometimes though, the timing is damn irritating. He doesn’t want to get into another argument with his girlfriend in public, especially not at his son’s birthday party.

“Speaking of commitment,” she says with a sigh. “I think it’s fair to say that we’ve been on a five-year rollercoaster, you and I. You know why that is?”

“I’m sure you’re gonna tell me,” Dean says, crossing his arms.

“It’s because you’re spread too thin,” she says. “Between the firehouse, construction jobs on the side…not to mention other things.”

“What? What’re you talking about?”

Lisa’s lips purse, before she pointedly gestures over at you with her eyes. “Well, for example. You’re still going to her place after your next shift to fix her fridge, right?”

“Yeah, I mean, should be pretty simple. I’ve just gotta swing by the hardware store and grab this specialty tool I ordered—”

“Dean,” Lisa deadpans. “That’s exactly the kind of thing I’m talking about.”

She heaves a deep breath, running her fingers through her long brown hair.

“I get that navigating this situation hasn’t been easy for you,” she says. “It hasn’t exactly been easy for me either, but look.”

Lisa takes his hands in hers, uncrossing his arms. “I want to get married someday. I want kids too. And I want that kind of life with you…I’m just not sure you want it with me.”

Dean expels a heavy sigh. “Lis—”

“Don’t answer me right now,” she says, but she levels him with a serious look. “You need to decide though, Dean. Five years is long enough. You should know by now if you want to be with me.”

After letting go of his hands, she softens the edges of her words with a gentle kiss on his cheek. Then she turns to join the group now gathered around the picnic table where the food is, all the kids cheering for pizza and cake.

After the party, Sam, Eileen, Lisa, and Benny pack up their cars and yours with the leftover food, party supplies, and presents. Dean helps you clean up the trash, all while keeping an eye on Robbie getting out the last of his sugar-high on the playground swing.

You shake your head tiredly, if with a fond smile. “That kid’s gonna be up all night hype on that radioactive cake.”

Dean chuckles. “You want me to take him tonight?”

“It’s okay. I think he’s going to want to play with his toys,” you reply.

“Well, he could just as easily do that at my place,” he reasons.

You consider it, but you shake your head. “Yeah, but we got him the bike. He’s probably gonna want to try it out for a few minutes before we get him cleaned up.”

“By ‘we,’ you mean you and Benny,” Dean says, his tone becoming surly. “And about that. Don’t you think a bike is something you should run by me? That’s typically a ‘dad’ kind of gift.”

You pause what you’re doing at the sound of his tone. Your brows knit together.

“Sorry, but I feel like a bike isn’t exclusively a dad thing,” you say.

“My dad got me my first bike,” Dean replies. “Spent a whole three days teaching me how to ride.”

You take a minute to think about it. You understand where Dean’s coming from, so you nod.

“Okay, I get it. You want to be there to help teach Robbie? I’m sure he’d love that.” 

Dean tosses a wadded-up ball of frosting-covered napkins and stops, letting his hands fall to his sides in frustration. He draws closer and helps you untie the balloons from the picnic table.

“Yeah, I do, but that’s not the point,” he says. “Why can’t I take him home tonight?”

You blink up at him in confusion. “Well, like I said. The bike—”

“That I should’ve gotten for him,” he snaps. “Which, let me guess, Benny picked out. Right?”

You frown at him in earnest now. “Dean, why are you getting so upset about it? It’s just a bike.”

“Well you know what, it’s not! And it’s not just the damn bike either.” He swipes a hand over his face in annoyance, a telltale sign you’ve come to read well on the man. “Look, I’m missing too much shit, all right? Like, like the dinosaur thing! And the fact that I only get him on the weekends.”

You turn toward him, trying to put a cap on your own annoyance. This isn’t the first time you two have had a conversation like this. 

“We’ve gone over this before, Dean. Your schedule at the firehouse is just too unpredictable,” you say. “Robbie needs as much stability as possible between us. But…okay, if you want to take him tonight, that’s fine. We can bring the bike over to your place and show it to him there.”

You’re trying to be as reasonable as possible, and Dean knows that. Still, anger prickles just under his skin, and he can’t help but push his luck.

“You still should’ve asked be before you got the bike in the first place,” he argues.

Your brows raise high. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

“Look, it’s not like we bought him a Honda Civic. Honestly, Dean, why are you picking a fight with me right now?” you ask. “Did you and Lisa get into it again or something?”

Dean looks away and crosses his arms, giving you all the confirmation you need.

“Yeah, that’s right,” you nod. “I saw you two over there on the playground, looked pretty heated. But do me a favor. Don’t come at me with that energy, because I’m too damn tired of it!”

When you walk away from him, Dean can’t help but stare after you. He knows he fucked that up, just as he knows that you don’t deserve him snapping at you. He’s just too irritated to admit it.

For the entire week that follows, Dean finds himself distracted. He sticks to his word and helps Benny teach his son how to ride a bike in between their shifts at the firehouse, but Dean comes home each night feeling even more frustrated and drained than before. It’s too much, knowing Benny’s slowly but surely carving out a father-figure role in Robbie’s life.

These thoughts follow Dean to work, even while he climbs up the firetruck ladder in the rain. It’s parallel to a busted utility pole that still sparks with electricity, even in this torrential downpour. His task is to get up to the top and grab a large branch that’s tangled in the lines.

Rung after rung, he climbs. His safety mask protects his eyes from the rain, but he wishes they had some mini windshield wipers to keep his vision clear of the droplets pelting him in the face.

He also can’t help thinking of you. If Lisa’s right, then Benny’s about to become a more permanent fixture in Robbie’s life, and yours. 

Okay fine. It’s not like Dean expected you to be single forever, but did you really have to get with one of his best friends? Does it really have to be Benny, who seems so natural with Robbie, and more patient than Dean, and more of a support to you and Robbie than Dean can ever be?

And then there’s Lisa’s little ultimatum. He understands why she’s frustrated with him. Honestly, he’s surprised she’s stuck around this long. He knows she’s not going to wait too much longer for him to get his act together. For him to decide, as she put it.

It’s not that he’s not sure about her, it’s just that…

Just that what? he wonders.

He manages to grab the wily tree branch and maneuver it out of the power lines. 

He just doesn’t realize that his glove doesn’t have quite enough friction on the metal side panel of the ladder. Not only does his hand slip, but he’s forced to let go of the branch while he loses his balance. The branch falls to the sidewalk, far, far down below.

“Dean!” Benny shouts in alarm.

Luckily, the truck itself breaks Dean's fall.

Holding Robbie’s hand tightly in yours is the only thing keeping you steady as you lead him through the hospital. After the receptionist had checked you both in and gave you the room number, you hastened down the hall and up to the right floor. 2005.

Robbie breaks into tears when he finally gets to see his dad, laid up though he is in his hospital bed. Your throat tightens at the sight of Dean hooked up to all those monitors. He has his arm wrapped up and fitted into a sling. He has a thick piece of gauze taped to the side of his face, covering a wide, angry abrasion, but he seems to be resting easy on his back. The bed is at an incline, with most of the overhead lights turned off.

Robbie rushes to the bed before you can stop him. He hesitantly touches Dean’s non-injured right hand. “Daddy?”

“Robbie, wait,” you say, keeping your voice quiet. You quickly go over to the bedside and grab ahold of Robbie’s shoulders, but Dean takes a deep breath. His eyelids crack open.

“Hey, buddy,” he says, attempting a smile. His voice is rough and weak, but at least he’s awake.

Robbie’s lower lip wobbles as tears fill his eyes again.

“Come ‘ere,” Dean says, a little stronger. When he reaches out to his son, the kid hops up onto the bed and buries his face into his father’s chest. Dean holds him as securely as he can, soothing his hand over the boy’s hair and pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

“It’s okay, little man. ‘M okay,” he promises. Robbie nods, but he still continues to cry.

You can’t help but do the same. Tears slip down your cheeks without your consent. Dean beckons you over too, gesturing with his chin and a slight smile. You’re more tentative in the way you sit down at the edge of his bed. You run your fingers through Robbie’s light brown hair to help reassure him. Then, you meet Dean’s gaze and lay a hand on his good shoulder. You don’t know whether you’re steadying him, or yourself.

“How do you feel?” you ask. “The hospital called me. Benny told me what happened.”

The thought reminds you to text your boyfriend. You hadn’t had a chance to tell him you made it here yet. He must be downstairs grabbing a bite to eat, because he’s the one who rode with Dean in the ambulance and has been with him for a while.

“The hospital called you?” Dean notes in slight confusion.

“Eileen told me that Sam is in court right now, so I must’ve been next on the list,” you say. He also must have taken Lisa off his emergency list the last time they broke up for almost a month. He probably forgot to update it again.

You reach out a hand to almost touch the bandage by his temple. Instead, you hesitantly hold the side of his face to see the area better. Dean closes his eyes for a moment. You can see he’s in pain. Your hand lingers on his cheek, but you know, deep down, that it shouldn’t.

Dean doesn’t stop you though. He lets out a deep breath, savoring how nice the gentle touch feels when the rest of his body feels battered to hell.

“Fell off the ladder. Was a stupid rookie move,” he explains, but when he sees that look on your face, he tries to inject a little more joking into a smile. “S’ not so bad.”

“You could’ve broken your head as well as your arm,” you say, more sharply than you mean to.

Robbie whimpers and clings tighter to Dean. You cover your mouth, as if you can trap the words back inside. You don’t want to upset your son more than he already is, so you fall silent. Another tear works its way down your cheek, but you brush it away. Dean shakes his head.

“Hey, I’m okay,” he reassures you too. He manages to smile as he pats Robbie’s back. “Right, buddy?”

The boy’s head perks up. His eyes are still shiny, but he smiles too. He’s not one to speak when he’s upset though, so he just curls up against Dean’s chest and hangs onto him. Dean rests his good arm snugly around him.

You smile and stroke Robbie’s back. Though your hand lowers, resting on Dean’s hand. You take in a deep breath to calm yourself down. Dean’s fingers curl around yours, prompting you to glance up into his eyes. The way he’s watching you is soft, grateful.

Until the door creaks open. Benny steps in with a subtle clearing of his throat. You jolt internally, and you slip your hand away from Dean’s. You offer your boyfriend a wan smile.

“Hey,” you say.

“Hey, baby.” He comes over and greets you with a kiss to the side of your head. He smiles at your son gently. “The gang’s all here.”

“Oh! Let me call Sam, and Lisa too. They still don’t know what’s going on,” you say. You get up from the bed to grab your phone out of your purse. Dean nods in agreement and thanks you, while Robbie plays with his dad's long fingers.

“How you holdin’ up, brother?” Benny asks, after you step out of the room. He settles into the chair near the foot of the bed.

“Ah, you know me. I’m like a cat. Always stick the landing,” Dean says, smiling lazily. The morphine is starting to kick in again.

Benny smirks. “Maybe you do got nine lives, the amount of close calls you like gettin’ yourself into.”

Dean’s good humor fades. He considers his son in his arms, and he shakes his head.

“Yeah, well, no more,” he says. He got a taste of what it would be like to leave his boy behind, and he’s not fucking doing it. He’s not leaving you to raise Robbie by yourself. The mere idea tears a new hole in his heart.

His eyes sting just enough that he has to blink a bit harder, swallowing past a thick well of emotion in his throat. He presses another kiss to the top of Robbie’s head. Then, Dean meets Benny’s gaze.

“Thank you,” he says, and he means it.

Benny nods.

“You got it, brother.”

When Lisa steps off the hospital elevator on the second floor, you happen to be coming out of the bathroom to fix your racoon eyes. You’ve been crying way too much. You attempt to greet Lisa with something reassuring, but she cuts you off. 

“What happened, and why didn’t the hospital call me directly?” she asks.

Her tone is cutting, and it takes you aback.

“Well, Sam and I were listed as his emergency contacts—”

“Why?” she snaps. “You’re not his wife or his girlfriend. I should’ve been listed.”

Jesus Christ. At this point, you can’t help it. You’re too tired and emotionally drained to lasso in your temper with this woman.

“Maybe if you and Dean stayed together longer than five minutes at a time, he’d put you back on the short list,” you sling back. “But the truth is, you’ve never just…been there for Dean. Not without demanding something from him.”

Lisa scoffs incredulously. “Oh, that’s fucking rich coming from you. You’re the reason he can’t commit to anything. You think your little world is the only one that matters, and you call Dean for any little thing! What, don’t you have a boyfriend to help fix your goddamn sink?” 

You open your mouth to retort, but you pause as her words seep into your mind. She might actually have a small point about that one. You realize then just how often you’ve been asking Dean for his help, not just with your apartment, but with your car, and other logistical things that usually have to with Robbie. Dean’s just such a good handyman, and you thought he genuinely liked being able to help…even though Benny did mention once or twice that he’d be just as happy to help you.

“Lisa, this is a lot more than a leaky sink. I just wanted to get here with Robbie and make sure Dean was okay,” you try to explain.

“Good. I’m glad his son was the first person Dean got to see when he woke up,” Lisa says. “But I should’ve been the second.”

She brushes past you before you can even think of what to say. You’re in a state of shock, feeling guilty, incensed, and on the verge of tears all at once.

A familiar voice calls your name, and you turn to Benny just as those tears begin to fall. He gathers you up into his arms and holds you there in the middle of the hallway.

“She shouldn’t talk to you like that, no matter how high tensions are today. I’ll talk to Dean,” Benny says. You shake your head and bury your face in his chest, clenching your fingers in his red flannel shirt. 

“No, it’s okay,” you reply, despite the sob that shudders through you. You’ve lost the will to fight.

Benny shakes his head and presses a kiss to your forehead. “It ain’t okay, baby.”

“Please, don’t bother Dean with this. Especially not right now,” you say. You take a moment to wipe your eyes and get ahold of yourself. “I’m gonna go get Robbie so Dean can rest.”

You can’t shake the feeling that Lisa is right. You do rely on Dean too much. You just don’t want to think about why that is.

Dean makes a full recovery after a few months. He never does hear about what happened in that hallway, but he knows that things need to change. 

He decides to dig out his mom’s engagement ring from a locked box of his parents’ keepsakes, though he’s still waiting on the right time for it. He and Lisa start looking at houses though, for real this time. She hires a realtor and everything. 

He’s making a firm decision, and he thinks it’s the right one. He wants to be there for his son, but he doesn’t want to keep “spreading himself too thin.” He has to figure out how to set some roots, and some boundaries with you while he’s at it. He’ll just have to come to terms with the idea that he won’t get to be there for everything. 

He has to be okay with the fact that you’ll probably marry Benny. You’ll keep making him cookies and cakes, giving him your smile and your time and your body. And Robbie will probably think of Benny as more of a father than his own Weekend Dad. 

Meanwhile, you’ve spent the past few months keeping yourself in check as well. You’ve stopped calling Dean for help whenever something breaks down in your old-ass apartment. You try to keep your conversations less about life and troubles and whatever funny thing your students did that day in class, and more focused on Robbie–strictly about his schedule and his needs.

It’s kind of painful, if you’re honest with yourself. Sam will always be one of your closest friends from college, but in the past five years, Dean has truly become your best friend. Because you’ve told him things. The things that come from sharing a child with someone, like Sunday dinners with your parents, flipping through old yearbooks and childhood pictures—and the details of day-to-day schedules and little stupid things that happen in moments between moments.

Dean also knows the deep cuts. Like being pregnant and scared and breaking down crying on the side of the road. Like sharing the deepest well of your insecurities with someone who knows your body intimately, even if just for one amazing night...a night you’ve never quite been able to put out of your mind.

However, you know that things can’t stay the same. From now on, he just needs to be your son’s father. Nothing more, nothing less. 

So today, on a crisp April 24th, you’re getting ready for a highly anticipated evening with your boyfriend. Robbie is sleeping over your parents’ house, and Benny has been planning something special for your third-year anniversary. 

You slip into your new dress, a deep emerald green, with a pair of black heels you’ve rarely worn since before you got pregnant. Come to think of it, you were wearing these the night of Sam and Eileen’s bachelor-bachelorette party. The night you…well, the night Robbie was conceived. 

You shake your head to rid yourself of those thoughts. You even consider changing. 

You’re being silly, you shake your head. They’re just shoes. 

And yet. Thinking of that time so long ago, it reminds you of a recent Sunday dinner at your parents’ house.

Two Months Ago...

Your parents live modestly, but comfortably in rural Kansas. Their ranch-style home boasts a creek in the backyard, where your dad is teaching your son how to catch minnows. Your mom is inside working on an apple pie, knowing it’s both Dean’s and Robbie’s favorite.

You and Dean have kept close to the house under the shade, sitting on a bench made more comfortable by a pair of old polyester cushions with red, faded flowers.

“How much longer do you have to wear that?” you ask Dean. He glances down at his cast-covered left arm.

“Doc says it’s about ready to come off,” he says.

You nod, allowing yourself a certain smile. “How bad are you itching to grab my mom’s garden shears and cut it off right here?”

“Woman, don’t tempt me,” he says, his lips twitching at a grin. “I’ve been eying those overgrown scissors for the past half hour.”

You laugh and take another sip of your glass. Yours holds sweet tea, while Dean’s has some of your dad’s favorite whiskey. You both raise your heads when Robbie yells across the backyard.

“I caught a minnow!”

“Good job, buddy,” Dean grins. “See if you can catch a marlin!”

“A marlin?” Robbie questions.

“Yeah, like that orange guy in Finding Nemo,” Dean calls back.

Your dad gives Dean the same wry look you do, though yours is tinged with more amusement.

“Dean, that’s a clown fish,” you say. “He’s not gonna find that in the creek.”

“Aw, shit,” he tries to quiet his laugh. “Ah well, should keep him occupied for another twenty minutes.”

You bite your lip to stifle your laughter as well. Though something else occurs to you the longer you watch your son play and explore in the creek. Your dad has the patience of a saint as he puts yet another bait worm on the hook for the kid.

“He’s starting to ask questions, you know,” you tell Dean, in a quieter voice. “‘Why aren’t you and Daddy married? Why can’t we all live together?’”

Dean's brows raise. His good humor dims when he looks over at you.

“What do you tell him?” he asks.

You take in a deep breath, considering your words now as carefully as you did with your son.

“That we care about each other a lot, as friends,” you say, meeting Dean’s eyes. “And we love Robbie very much. Nothing’s going to change that, even if you and I aren’t together like a normal mom and dad.”

Saying it like that makes your heart twinge, for more than one reason. The way Dean’s mouth twitches into a rueful smile just makes it worse, but you try your best to ignore it.

“I never thought about having to explain it to him,” he says, rubbing a hand over his mouth.

It’s that anxious tell of his again. You notice every time he does it.

“I have,” you admit. “I just didn’t know for sure what I was going to say until it was coming out of my mouth.”

Dean smirks a little. “Yeah, that sounds like you.”

You roll your eyes and sip your drink, crossing your arms as well. Dean considers you then, looking at you in a way that makes you raise a brow in question.

“What?” you ask.

“Nothing, it’s just…” He sits back against the bench and rubs his hands down his jean-clad thighs. “For the record, I did try to ask you out once.”

“What?” you scoff incredulously. “No, you’ve been with Lisa since the beginning.”

“Before Lisa,” Dean says.

He isn’t joking. He isn’t teasing. He’s serious as he stares back at you with those green eyes of his. Your brows furrow as you wrack your brain. Did he drunkenly leave you a voicemail on one of those “off again” episodes between him and Lisa? No. You know you’d remember something like that.

“It was a few weeks after the bachelor party,” Dean says. “I called you up, remember?”

Your eyes widen. Finally, that jogs your memory.

“So I just thought maybe you and I could do something again. Maybe you wanna come over my place this time.” And there it is. You deflate at his words, shoulders sagging. The "convenient booty call" proposition.

You have to laugh, shaking your head in disbelief.

“Dean, you did not ask me out,” you say. “You wanted to hook up. There’s a distinct difference.”

Dean frowns at you. “No, I was. I invited you over—”

“For essentially some Netflix and chill,” you retort.

“Hey, I offered to make you dinner,” he argues. “I didn’t say anything about hooking up.”

You pause at that. His earnest denial makes you actually think back to what you remember about that conversation on the phone.

“So I just thought maybe you and I could do something again. Maybe you wanna come over my place this time.” And there it is. You deflate at his words, shoulders sagging. The "convenient booty call" proposition. “I could make us some burgers, toss in a couple of beers and a movie night,” he adds.

You cover your lips with your fingers as you begin to realize…

“That was you asking me out?” you ask incredulously.

Dean’s brows furrow and he throws his hands up. “What? Who doesn’t like a little movie night?”

“Dean,” you huff another laugh. “You could’ve made it sound more like a date.”

“Well, ‘scuse me. Sorry I couldn’t afford the Ritz at the time,” he grumbles.

You sigh. “That’s not what I meant.”

The more you think about it, the more you just shake your head at yourself. Why did you have to overthink it, like you do everything?

“Wow,” you say, softer and more contrite. “I honestly never thought…”

“Yeah,” he says. He shifts his gaze out ahead.

You glance over at him, now more unsure of yourself. He wouldn’t have any regrets, you think. He has Lisa. As much as they go at it, they always inevitably get back together. And now you know they hired a realtor. They’re about to start making solid steps forward.

But Dean surprises you with another question.

“Do you think if…”

He doesn’t finish it, but you think you know what he’s asking. You hesitate, your fingers flexing around your glass that beads with condensation. You set the glass down beside you. 

Just as you open your mouth to reply—

“All right, pie is cooling and dinner is served!” your mom calls out. Her head pokes out of the sliding glass door to the backyard. You offer a smile, trying to hide how you jolted in your seat.

“Okay, thanks, Mom,” you nod.

You turn back to Dean, who also hesitates. His eyes meet yours, but all too soon, he locks the moment away.

Bracing his hands on his knees, he rocks to his feet and goes out to get Robbie and help your dad bring in the fishing gear.

You grab Dean’s whiskey along with your tea on your way back inside the house. You consider the amber liquid disturbed in his glass, and you down the rest yourself. The burn down your throat is a good distraction. If he asks about it, you’ll say you got the glasses confused.

You know you’ll have to leave that conversation unfinished at the foot of the bench.

Now...

Benny comes by your apartment and helps you into the passenger side of his pickup truck, like the gentleman he is. He takes you to a nice restaurant in downtown, much nicer than the usual sports bar or kid-friendly restaurant. You're very much looking forward to eating at a restaurant that doesn't feature chicken fingers or "kiddie" corn dogs.

“This is gonna be really expensive,” you whisper to him, after he hands his keys over to the valet. 

Benny squeezes your hand in his, leaning over to kiss your temple. 

“Don’t you worry about that. We both deserve a night out.” His blue eyes gleam with amusement. However, his gaze gentles, becoming more sincere. “You work hard, carin’ for everybody around you. How about you let me take care of you for once.”

Your eyes begin to water, your throat constricting with emotion. You rub his arm gratefully.

“Thank you,” you say. “You don’t know how much I appreciate that.” 

It’s always easy with Benny. Nice and simple and easy. Nice, supportive, and considerate.

Nice and safe.

That thought follows you while you and Benny walk into to the restaurant. He’s reserved great seats in the back corner, overlooking a beautiful courtyard. It’s decorated with hydrangeas and light wood dining tables, all framed with a rod iron archway as the sun begins to set just so. After holding your chair out for you before he sits himself, Benny orders a bottle of champagne to kick things off.

He turns to you with a somewhat nervous look in his eyes, like he's steeling himself. It’s uncharacteristic of Benny, who’s always so calm and charming and sure of himself. It makes a zing of anticipation run down your spine, and…a dash of fear. You don’t know why, and you don’t know how to beat the feeling down as you fidget in your seat.

He subtly clears his throat, then takes your hand. “Sweetheart, I know I’m not all that good at the words you’re supposed to say. But I can say that the past three years with you and Robbie, it’s come to mean the world to me.”

Your smile softens. He brushes his thumb over the back of your hand, encouraged by your reaction.

“So I think it’s time I made it clear where I stand, and how much I want to be the man in your life,” he says.

Your eyes begin to widen in shock, but not for the reason he thinks.

“Dean,” you gasp.

Benny’s expression slackens. “What?”

You point over his shoulder, and Benny turns to follow your line of vision. Dean and Lisa have just walked into the restaurant. They notice you pointing their way, and they both pause in surprise as well. Lisa is beautiful as usual in a slinky black dress, completely backless (something you feel you could never pull off, unless you had an invisible bra to keep the girls perked up).

Dean is…well, you’ve very rarely seen him in a suit, but charcoal gray works for him. The open collar and white buttoned-down works for him, as do the three top buttons he’s left undone, showing a tantalizing strip of tanned skin. He stares back at you like he forgot you live in the same time zone, let alone the same zip code.

“Uh, hey!” he casts out an awkward wave, before he makes his way over to you and Benny. Lisa is less than enthused.

“We shouldn’t interrupt their night,” you catch her whisper to him, but Dean doesn’t seem to hear her.

“What’s up, party people! Of all the gin joints in all the world, huh?” Dean says, a little too loudly when he thumps Benny on the back. Benny grunts, giving a bit of a forced chuckle.

“Dean,” he greets. “I think I told you about this particular gin joint. Good to see you can actually clean up once in a while.”

“Ah, you know what, this monkey suit ain’t too bad,” Dean says, pulling at his collar.

You smirk in amusement. “Yeah, I remember how much you complained about wearing a simple tie for Robbie’s Christmas pageant.”

He smirks down at you. “Hey, ties still might not be my thing, but nothing wrong with a sharp collar.”

He pops his for emphasis. You don’t know why it makes you laugh, but it does. Maybe it’s just his face and the silly, endearing expression he makes when he pouts his lips in a “blue steel.”

“So, is this just a night out, or you guys celebrating something special?” Dean asks, gesturing at the champagne bottle and your full glasses of bubbly.

Benny gives his friend a certain look. “Yeah, as a matter of fact. Today’s three years.”

He takes your hand and kisses your knuckles. You smile back at him, though you’re a bit self-conscious at the way both he and Dean, and even Lisa have their attention on you.

“We should let you guys get back to it then,” Lisa says.

Honestly, it’s a relief. You and Benny nod, wishing them a goodnight.

For some reason, you notice how Dean’s smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes. But he goes with Lisa, laying a hand on the small of her back. You force yourself to tear your eyes away from them and refocus on Benny. You take up your champagne glass and raise it in offering.

“All right, where were we?” you ask, if with a nervous trill in your belly.

Benny smiles. He takes up his glass and clinks it with yours.

Lisa nearly sighs. She and Dean are back in line at the front of the restaurant, waiting to be seated. The second time she catches Dean glancing over at the table where you and Benny sit, she shakes her head and digs into her purse for the valet card. She’s done with this.

“I think maybe we should go to a different restaurant,” she says.

That finally earns Dean’s attention, mostly confused. “What, why?”

She just gives him a long look.

He realizes that whatever her reasons are, it’s easier to just give in than to fight her on it. He’s learning when to pick his battles. Or is he just giving up?

Also, if tonight’s “the night” he thinks it is for you and Benny, maybe he doesn’t want to stick around after all. Three years, huh?

“All right, fine. Let’s go,” he agrees.

Dean and Lisa wait for the valet to bring the Impala around. The minute he gets behind the wheel and turns the key into the ignition, she changes her mind.

“Look, let’s just go home,” she says. “I don’t really feel like eating out anymore.”

Dean’s brows raise. “What? Aw, come on. We’re already dressed and everything. You look great, Lis. Just tell me where you wanna eat.”

Lisa remains firm, with a small shake of her head. “Please, Dean, just take me home.”

After a moment of indecision, Dean sighs. He revs the ignition and does as she says.

It’s only a fifteen-minute drive back to their apartment, but in that stifling silence, it seems to drag on for a small eternity. He glances at her a couple of times. Lisa has her arms crossed as she stares out the window, watching the other restaurants and mom-and-pops shops and forest trees and old houses of Lebanon, Kansas go by.

Dean counts it a blessing when they’re finally home. He walks up the few short steps up to their ground-floor apartment and unlocks the door. He flicks on the lights inside, and she breezes past him to toss her purse onto the couch.

Dean takes off his blazer and begins to undo the buttons on his cuffs. He watches her all the while, knowing that a storm is brewing. She shucks off her heels and slowly paces the living room on bare feet, like her whirling thoughts are fueling every step.

“All right, I give. What’s going on?” Dean asks. “What’d I do this time?”

She pauses, with her back turned to him.

Shit, he thinks. He shouldn’t have said it like that.

He prepares for the inevitable blow up, but it never comes. Lisa just heaves a sigh. Slowly she turns, and Dean’s shocked and dismayed to see the tears welling up in her deep brown eyes. He makes quick strides toward her, but she raises a hand to keep him at bay.

“Dean, when you picture yourself happy, truly happy,” she says. “Is it with me? Can you imagine yourself marrying me? Buying the house, having kids, growing old together?”

If Dean was thrown for a loop before, he’s even more stunned by her question. “Lis…”

“Just be honest, for once,” she pleads. Her tears begin to brim over, but she blinks, somehow keeping them at bay.

It’s a bit too long before Dean realizes that he can’t give her an answer. At least, not the one he knows she wants to hear.

When he thinks of that picture in his mind, of course he sees his son. But the only other person Dean can imagine there beside him is…

“I…” He wills his mouth to work, but nothing else comes out.

The only face he can conjure is yours. Your eyes are warm and welcoming, your smile as bright and contagious as your laugh.

The only voice he can hear is yours, gentle and strong at the same time.

The only one he can see is you.

He knows the shampoo you use and the perfume you like to wear, how the sweet and floral scents mix together and linger in your hair and on your skin.

Even now he remembers the contours of your body, and how it could fit so well against his. He knows that you used to try and hide your shape under loose, baggy shirts and cargo pants that did nothing for you. He knows how much courage it took you to wear that red dress to his brother’s party, because you told him once, at one of those Sunday dinners at your parents’ house.

Come to think of it, there’s not a whole lot that Dean doesn’t know about you, except maybe what you see when you look at him.

“You love her,” Lisa finishes for him. “I think you always have.”

Dean’s throat tightens. Somehow he swallows anyway, and he shakes his head. 

“Lisa, I loved you.”

“Maybe you did, in your own way,” she says, laughing a little through her tears as she wipes them away. “But you already have a family, Dean. Go fight for it.” 

Dean doesn’t know what to say, but he knows what he can do.

He goes to her and kisses her cheek. 

“I’m so sorry,” he says. 

Lisa merely nods, wiping her face dry. She watches Dean Winchester walk out of her apartment, and out of her life for good this time. 

Dean calls your cell, but it goes to voicemail. He drives all the way back to the restaurant and doesn’t find you or Benny there. 

Dean realizes that what he’s doing, what he plans to do, is not fucking cool. He wouldn’t blame you or even Benny for being severely pissed when Dean shows up. He also knows that he can’t let another day pass where he keeps lying to you, and himself. 

He eventually finds you at home. What’s weird is that Benny’s truck isn’t in the driveway—just your car. He knocks on your door, and he waits.

He unconsciously holds his breath while he waits in that terrible existence of limbo. However, his heart thrums back to life when he hears your footsteps drawing closer to the door. Anticipation, excitement, dread, it all roils together inside him like a bad cocktail as the door swings open.

And he’s once again rendered a bit breathless at the sight of you in that dress. The color alone appeals to him, let alone the way it accentuates your every curve, from full breasts to the swell of your hips, the softer slope of your thighs, and bare toes painted. You’re fucking delectable, every curve, and a temptation without you even meaning to be. 

You’re just…you’re still so goddamn beautiful, like the night he first saw you. Even now, he can almost feel the give of your thighs under his hands, his fingers pressed to supple flesh. 

But then he’s drawn to your face, and your wide eyes full of surprise. Your mascara is a bit smudged though. Your eyes are red too, like you’ve been crying. His brows furrow in concern.

“Dean, what’re you doing here?” you ask.

“I need to talk to you, but uh…did something happen?” he asks. “You okay?”

You’re reluctant to tell him. Did Benny say something to upset you? Or was it something he did?

“Yeah, I’m okay,” you say.

Instinctively, Dean knows it’s a lie.

“This isn’t a good time though,” you say, after clearing your throat. “Can we do this tomorrow, maybe?”

Dean leans a hand on the doorframe.

“Please, it’s important,” he says. His eyes implore you harder than his words. Please.

That does it. A sigh passes through your lips, but you let him in. He knows Robbie is with your parents for the night, which actually makes this easier.

Once he steps inside the apartment, Dean does notice that your bedroom door is open. Half the drawers to your dresser are open too, and empty. Certain frames that used to be on your coffee table are no longer there, like the one of you, Benny, and Robbie on a camping trip. 

“You want some coffee, or soda?” you ask. 

Dean declines and grasps your arm before you can busy yourself into “hostess” mode. He leads you to the couch, where you both sit down together.

“What happened tonight?” he asks. “Where’s Benny?”

Your lower lip wobbles, the beginning of your telltale cry face. Dean knows his son gets it from you, and it always breaks his heart. He squeezes your arm gently, trying to ground you.

“Benny proposed to me tonight,” you confess, taking in a sharp breath. “He proposed, and I couldn’t give him an answer.” 

You shake your head as the tears sting hot in your eyes. 

“He got so upset, he just—he left!” You throw your hands up. “But honestly, I don’t blame him.”

Dean tries to comfort you as you try and fail to wipe at your face. He wraps an arm around your shoulders, cupping your cheek to brush the tears away himself. 

“Why couldn’t you answer him?” he asks. 

You look up at Dean, and you finally notice the shine of hope in his eyes. Dean touches your cheek more tenderly. 

“Does it mean I have a chance here?” he asks.

Despite what your eyes tell you, you still gape at him in shock. “What? But…what about Lisa?”

“It’s over. For good this time,” Dean shakes his head. “I realized what I wanted for my life, and where my heart is…”

And he chuckles weakly. “Truth is, you’ve had it the whole time, sweetheart.”

You begin to crumble all over again. You pull away from him and his touch, because you can’t believe it. You cover your face with your hands, sniffling as you try to make sense of his words, his touch, and the warm flutter threatening to brim happiness in your heart.

“God, Dean. You can't just..."

"I mean it," he insists.

You're still reluctant to take him seriously...no matter how much you want to. It's a conflicting realization that hurts, and makes you feel stupid for taking so long to figure it out, and makes you hate yourself for hoping his words are true.

"Come the morning, you’re going to change your mind,” you reason, without looking at him. “Like you’ve done with Lisa a thousand times.”

“No,” Dean says firmly. He shifts closer and prompts you to look at him, really look at him.

“Not about this, and you know it,” he says, catching and holding your gaze. “That’s why you couldn’t say yes to Benny. Because you know what we’ve got. It’s the real deal.”

You still look uncertain, even though you can’t bring yourself to pull away this time. Dean has always had this way of looking into the very depths of you, like he can actually see every thought as it passes through your mind.  

“I should’ve said yes,” you say. “I can rely on Benny. I know he would stay by my side, and…and I know he won’t hurt me.”

Not like I’ve just hurt him, you think. Guilt still pricks at your heart. The last thing you ever wanted to do was lead him on, and yet, that’s what you’d done, wasn’t it? You thought you had loved him. You’re sure that you did, but maybe it just wasn’t the kind of love that could reach down deep and grab you, set your blood on fire, and make you ache when the burn was gone.

That spark licks across your skin when Dean takes your hands.  

“What if I want to be that guy for you,” he says.

You allow yourself to look at him. Really look at him.

You know Dean. When he gets an idea in his head, it inhabits every bone and shred of muscle in his body. There’s no mistaking his resolve, or the steady grip of his hands over yours.

“If you let me, I’ll stay. I won’t leave you,” he says. In his eyes, there’s a firm promise. “I can be the guy you rely on. The man you can trust. The man who’s gonna love you, come whatever. Because now I know what it means. I know how it feels.”

You bite your lower lip against the smile that wants to surface.

“Are you sure?” you ask.

Dean smiles for you. “If you wanna know the truth, I’m pretty sure I’ve been loving you since the day I heard Robbie’s heartbeat for the first time.” 

Your tears flow harder at that. A shaky breath escapes you, though it does nothing to steady you. Dean strokes your cheek gently with his thumb. 

“Please, just give me this one chance,” he asks. Begs, really. 

He doesn’t have to though. You nod, just a little. 

“Okay,” you agree. “Let’s try.”

Dean's smile spreads slow, but warm across his face. It’s your favorite kind, the kind that crinkles his eyes. 

He leans in and claims your lips with his own. The passion of it is familiar, but you don't think it’s the same as five years ago. Now, there’s an underlying note of tenderness in his touch and each new way he tastes you deeper. He holds nothing back this time, and neither do you. 

Your fingers tangle in his shirt, and then in his hair as you moan into his mouth. “Dean.”

“Yeah, sweetheart?” he answers against your lips, though he doesn’t give you much room to keep talking.

You haven’t heard him call you sweetheart in a long time. You feel your heart knitting back together, stitch by stitch. Tears sting in your eyes anew, but you squeeze your eyes shut against them.

“I…”

You can’t even continue the breathless thought. You hold his face desperately between your hands, pressing your forehead to his for a moment as you both catch your breath. But this man is like the sweetest, most seductive vice. Now that you’ve gotten another hit, you can’t resist. You no longer want to.

His arms wrap around you more securely, and he leans in to lure you back into his kiss. His tongue breaches past your lips to curl along yours with tantalizing strokes. His hands slowly move down your back and along your waist.

“Mmm, missed the hell outta this,” he groans into your mouth. Your heart flutters again at the way he holds you, the way his big hands squeeze you and feel you.

You let him guide you down onto the sofa cushions. He slots himself between your bare thighs and runs his hand up familiar smooth skin, bunching the skirt of your dress higher as he goes. He aims to get himself reacquainted with every soft part of you that welcomes him back.

For once, the gates around your hearts swing free. 

Dean never imagined that his own son would hand him the ring he gives to his wife, but today, it just feels like symmetry. He grins and winks at Robbie.

“Thanks, buddy,” Dean says.

His son’s beaming grin is wide and toothy, but the boy takes his job very seriously and delivers the other ring to you. You smile brightly and caress his cheek after you take the shining, white gold band from him. It matches the thinner band that Dean has for you; it'll soon join the engagement ring that once belonged to his mother.

Robbie had liked Benny a lot, but he loves his dad. He’s probably the happiest person in the room to see his parents take each other’s hands in front of the minister. 

Benny is understandably absent in the chapel today. You had met with him after that night of your botched anniversary to apologize to him, and so had Dean. Benny understood. He’d admitted that in the back of his mind, he feared this might happen.

“I wouldn’t blame you for being angry with me,” you said to him. “You can even hate me if you want.” Benny gave you a wry, melancholy sort of smile. “Part of me’s still mad at you, I won’t lie…but there’s no use in it. Not even hating you.”

Even though Benny bowed out, carrying his hurt and his grief on those broad shoulders, letting you go meant letting go of a friend too. He put in his paperwork to transfer out of Firehouse 83.

As he’d told Dean himself that day, and in fact, the last words Benny said to him…

“There you go, Lieutenant. A spot’s just opened up.”

Dean didn’t want to get promoted this way. He felt guilty enough as it was, and not just for Benny leaving the firehouse. Benny recommended Dean to the Chief himself though, saying that if they were going to give someone a Lieutenant’s badge, it may as well be the guy who got a perfect score on his test, and had the natural leadership skills to boot.

To the end, Benny was a gentleman.

Now, Sam beckons his nephew over. Robbie quickly goes to his uncle’s side and puffs his little chest out as he stands proud behind his dad. 

Dean is able to take you in, your beautiful white dress, and everything about you that makes him smile…including the way you smile back at him.

Man and wife is all he hears. It’s all he needs to hear, before he’s pulling you closer by your newly anointed hand. He dips you for a thorough kiss in front of all your family and friends. 

You squeal in surprise, making Dean smile hard enough for his cheeks to hurt. Giggling hard enough to make you tremble, you raise a hand to caress his cheek. But you give him another real kiss after he guides you back up to your feet.

“I love you,” you whisper against his lips. The words are just for him to hear. Dean pulls back enough to see the truth shining in your eyes. Beautiful.

“Can’t help it, right?” he teases. 

You smile in amusement, but you grab his chin and shake it. 

“You got me,” you reply. “I really, really can’t.”

Your beaming smile softens. Even though the entire room is clapping and hooting and hollering in celebration, in that moment, all you really see is Dean. 

Here in his arms, you know that this is where you were meant to end up. From now on, it’s where you’re meant to be.

AN: From Lisa and Benny to Robbie and everything in between. Dean and the reader certainly aren't perfect in this, but what do you think about how their story unfolded? I truly hope you guys enjoy this one, because I've had so much fun with it. 🥰❤️❤️‍🔥

**As a reminder, One More Day (Dean x Latina Plus-Sized!Reader) comes out on 4/04 - the day after my birthday!~

Until then, please let me know what you thought of If I Stay! 😘 I might write more for these two in the future...

"Shall I stay? Would it be a sin, if I can't help falling in love with you?"

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[astr-venus]

｡⁠☆I'm Baby｡⁠.ﾟ⁠+⁠ 

☆Tim drake x reader

☆Cw: Damian being a menace, crack/fluff

To be honest, Damian was only getting close to you to bother Drake. He didn't really have a reason for it either, but bothering is pseudo older brother is entertaining, fun even.

It's not tranquil, like painting. It's not rewarding, like training. It's not adrenaline filled, like patrol. No, it's just... Fun.

Damian can't even explain why it's fun either. There's just something about the look of utter anguish, irritation, that crosses Drake's face that just makes him smile.

It's an evil little thing, all sharp teeth and hard lines. Nothing like those big grins you see kids have in childish movies. No, he looks like a shark in fish infested waters. Like a wolf locked in a pen of sheep.

So imagine his surprise when you derail his plans by being likeable. You're clever, and kind, but not smothering like Grayson. He didn't start showing up at your window to actually get close to you, and yet here is, tucked into your side as he vents about school today.

The people at his school are utter imbeciles, and he only goes to appease his father. Not that he understands why his father sends him. He already has a friend his age, Jon! He's sure you'd be his friend too, if he asked.

... Even the thought of doing that is too humiliating to fathom.

He's sure you'd just look at him with that dumb smile that makes his chest feel tight, and you'd probably pet down his hair, and say something like "Of course we're friends! Why else would I let you crash on my couch after patrol?" Because you're good like that, and always give reasons why you do and feel things.

But he'd rather drop dead than be perceived as childish or immature. Asking someone to be your friend is playground chat, and Damian stopped going to a school with a playground this year so he's much too old for that. Instead he just rambles about how many times he's had to correct his teacher this year, because if he thinks the kids are stupid don't get him started on the adults.

You listen the whole way through, an arm wrapped around his shoulder. He's practically squished to your side. He planted himself there as soon as he got through the lock on your front door, but you don't say anything about it, you never do. It's much more tolerable than Grayson's constant cooing.

"And do you know what the worst part is?" Damian huffs, a balled fist gripping your pants.

"What?"

"She tried to correct me on the Greek Pantheon, me! It's as if my chosen aunt isn't Princess Diana of Themscryia! Imbeciles, everyone of them!"

You nod solemnly, clearly understanding Damian's plight. This is why he comes to you, no one at that blasted manor gets it. They would try and correct him, teach him to be more understanding, but you just listen! You listen, and commiserate! Like any good sibling should.

"I used to have a teacher like that. It turned out no matter what I told him, no matter what evidence I presented, he just decided that I was a lost cause anyway." You roll your eyes, picking at the stitching of Damian's sleeve. He should probably stop you, but he can't even bring himself to give the gesture a glance of his attention. "I ended up transferring out of the class, my peace was not worth the credit. I just took it online instead."

"If only father were that understanding. I would take every class online if I could."

"What, there isn't a single thing you enjoy about school? When I was your age I only ever showed up for extracurriculars, but they managed to at least make it a little worth it for me."

Damian wants to say no, "My art and art teacher isn't deplorable." But that would be a lie.

"What're they-"

The lock of your farthest window clicks, interrupting you. Damian slips a blade out of the pocket of his school uniform, but doesn't bother moving. A measley intruder won't stand a chance against him, especially because they would be interrupting his you time.

A foot slides in through the open window. Black slacks, he can tell by the hemlines they're expensive. The shoes are glossy, but slightly scuffed, also clearly expensive.

Damian glares, he knows exactly who this is. The grip of his blade gets tighter.

"Hey babe." Drake greets, pulling his satchel in the window before closing it. "You'll never believe the day I had at work-"

Damian and Drake lock eyes. He can feel his eyes turn into giddy crescents as Tim's face falls into disbelief. Yes, this is the exact feeling he's been waiting for. He could revel in that disgusted expression he has.

"What's he doing here?" Drake sneered.

"Don't be rude."

"Wha- I'm not being rude. I just- baby, sweetheart, why the fuck is my little brother in your apartment?"

For his part, Damian just snuggles closer to you, causing you to squeeze him tighter. If it's even possible, he looks even more smug than he did before. All according to plan.

"I invited him. He likes to hangout after school sometimes." You smile, it's genuine, as if you're completely oblivious to why this would distress Tim. They both know you well enough to know you're having just as much fun fucking with your boyfriend as Damian is.

"You know each other? You do this regularly??"

"No thanks to you. I've only met your family once and it was in passing, Tim! What was I supposed to do, tell him to leave? He's just a baby!"

Under normal circumstances, Damian would grow irate at being called a baby. He is ten years old, in double digits, basically an adult! However, annoying Drake takes precedence right now.

"Yeah Drake, I'm just a baby." Damian says flatly. "I'm just a baby, and you're scaring me."

You gasp. "Timothy you're scaring my baby!"

"That demon is NOT a baby! Are you under mind control? Blink twice if you need help."

Your hand tugs Damian into your chest, and you plant a kiss on his forehead. His demonic smile wavers for a moment as a flush hits his cheeks, that same icky syrup-like feeling you tend to give him curling in his chest. It comes right back when he sees that absolute offended and affronted look on Drake's face.

This is the best day of his life.

"If you don't start being nice to this sweet baby angel right this second, I'll have to throw you out of my apartment. Sorry Tim, those are the rules."

"You just made that up, those- that's- those aren't the rules!"

Damian pulls out of your hold to sit up straight on the couch, re-pulling out his switchblade. It glints off the yellowish lighting in your apartment, the same glint in his wolfish grin.

"Please." He stands. "It would be an honor if you would allow me."

You pretend to think about it, a matching mischievous look on your face. "Hmm okay, but only because you asked so nicely.

"I'm sorry Tim, but I don't make the rules, I just follow them."

"I'm not sorry." Damian brags.

"Shut it, brat."

Tim begins to climb back out the window, huffing as his satchel gets stuck on the sill for the second time. His head pokes back in before he closes it, a glare, that would be terrifying if Damian was anyone else, on his face.

"This isn't over."

"I disagree."

The window slams shut, and Damian slots himself right back where he was before. Both of you have the evilist of giggles as you basket on the high of teasing Tim Drake.

Despite his shitty day at school, it's a good day, anyway.

You only played along bc Tim's been ignoring you for the sake of work, leaving his stabby little brother here to satiate your boredom. This is petty revenge.

Damian also becomes the biggest cock block in the world after this. You think it's funny, Tim not so much.

Also planning on writing a short follow up to this where Tim comes to you after patrol and needs reassurance.

｡⁠☆Requests open

[airybcby]

જ⁀♡⊹｡° went out to look for a reason to hide

♡ a/n — for my childhood best friends to lovers series

♡ word count — 1.4k

♡ content — hiori yo x fem! reader, (could be gn! but just to be safe i said fem), probably ooc hiori, goes from ages 4 to the U-20 game, pining, not

♡ synopsis — And maybe, just maybe, the world would see who Hiori Yo tuly was one day. But for now, only you knew this version of him.

You met Hiori Yo when you were four years old.

The daycare was noisy, filled with the screeches and laughter of kids running around, playing games, making friends. But you weren’t like them. You sat at your own table, arms crossed, face pulled into a deep scowl as you mean-mugged anyone who dared to get too close. You had already made too many kids cry today—apparently, you didn’t know how to keep your thoughts to yourself.

"You’re too loud," your mom always said. "You don’t understand other people’s feelings."

But what did that even mean? You were four. How were you supposed to understand something so complicated when you could barely tie your shoes?

The other kids didn’t like you. You didn’t mean to hurt their feelings, but somehow, you always did. Even when you apologized, they never wanted to play with you again, everyone avoided you now, too scared to talk to you, too hurt by whatever you had said that you already forgot.

So you sat alone, mean-mugging anyone who got too close. You decided you’d rather sit by yourself anyway. At least that weird kid with blue hair wasn’t trying to talk to you.

But then, he did.

"Hi!"

You looked up from your scuffed-up lunchbox, eyes narrowing at the boy standing across from you. His hair was messy, sticking up in all the wrong places, and his cheeks were a little too round, making him look soft in a way that made your glare feel useless.

"Hi," you muttered.

The boy didn’t seem fazed by your disinterest. He dragged over one of the many chairs that had been abandoned at your table and plopped down, completely at ease. He had a book in his hands—one about soccer, judging by the pictures you could see from across the table.

"I’m Hiori!" he said cheerfully.

You raised a brow, glancing at the other kids behind him, the ones who actually wanted to play with him.

"The others wanna play with you."

Hiori only shrugged, flipping a page in his book before looking at you with an easy smile.

"I wanna be here."

And no matter how hard you tried to push him away, no matter how much you told him he was better off with the others, Hiori Yo never left your side.

Eventually… you became friends.

By junior high, not much had changed.

You still had trouble keeping friends—your outspokenness tended to scare people off, especially at this age, when kids were meaner, more sensitive. But Hiori was different. While people naturally drifted away from you, more and more people were drawn to him.

He was too nice, too good to tell them to leave him alone.

If they knew the real Hiori—the one who could stare dead-eyed at a game for hours, the one who matched your sharp energy effortlessly, the one who called you stupid when you were being stupid—maybe they wouldn’t like him so much.

You hummed to yourself as you walked home together after his soccer practice, still carrying the familiar weight of your school bag as he dragged his duffel over his shoulder. His face, once the picture of politeness and charm, was now set in an exhausted grimace.

"Aren’t you tired?" you asked, glancing up at him.

He sighed, running a hand through his damp hair. "God, they just never stop talking. ‘Hiori, do this! Hiori, can you—’ It’s... I don’t know."

You rolled your eyes. "You can just say no, you know?"

"No… I can’t. That’s not who I am."

He huffed, scratching the back of his neck. But was pleasing everyone really worth it? Hiding who he truly was just to please everyone? 

Was that why people questioned your friendship—because you never hid, while Hiori played a role for everyone but you?

Just thinking about it made you exhausted.

High school changed things.

Hiori finally found his edge, his perfect level of competitiveness. High school soccer was brutal—people got hurt all the time, whether on purpose or by accident.

And Hiori?

Well, to everyone else, sweet Hiori never meant to injure anyone. He was too nice, too soft, too apologetic for it to be intentional.

So what if Hiori had accidentally hurt more than a few players? He even apologized—everyone forgave him immediately.

But you knew better.

That wasn’t an accident.

You approached him after the game, watching as he wiped the sweat from his brow, his face still a mask of innocence.

"That was cruel, Hiori."

You smiled at him, reaching up to dab a bit of sweat from his forehead with your sleeve.

"Can’t score again if you’re hurt," he replied with a shrug.

You huffed, shaking your head as he slung an arm over your shoulders. "Can I come over later? Don’t wanna hear it from my parents."

"Of course. You know you’re always allowed to just walk in. My mom loves you."

Hiori smiled and kissed your forehead before leaving—something you’d done for years now. It was your way of saying goodbye. But lately, every time he did it, your heart squeezed like you were going to have a heart attack.

And you hated that feeling.

That night, Hiori snuck into your room.

To anyone else, sneaking a boy in would be scandalous. But this was Hiori. Your best friend.

So why did it feel different now?

You both lay side by side on your bed, turned toward each other as the dim glow of your bedside lamp illuminated his face.

"That was mean, Hiori… That kid’s seriously hurt."

You tried not to smile—it wasn’t funny! But knowing that he had done it on purpose while everyone else remained clueless made you feel special.

"Oh, hush. If I wanted to hear this, I would’ve just gone home."

He smirked, eyes gleaming in the low light, and for a second—just a second—you imagined kissing him.

"You look really pretty right now."

Your thoughts screeched to a halt.

"Huh?"

He only grinned, leaning in.

"You heard me."

And then he kissed you—not a short one, not too long. Just perfect.

When he pulled away, your mouth was slightly open, heart hammering against your ribs as he laughed.

"You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that."

You threw a pillow at his head.

And from that moment on, Hiori Yo was yours. And you were his.

When Hiori got his Blue Lock letter, you read it over his shoulder, eyes widening.

"Oh! This is amazing! You have to—"

"I’m not going."

You gawked at him. "Why not?! You’re good, Hiori! This is huge!"

He shook his head. "I’m not that good. Not good enough."

It was frustrating—no one knew this side of him. No one but you. If anyone else saw this Hiori—the one who doubted himself, the one who picked himself apart daily—they wouldn’t believe it. But you knew him.

"Stop trying to hide. It’s annoying." You huffed, lightly hitting his arm. "Who cares if this fake version of you isn’t good? I know you—you can do this."

His face hardened. "You don’t get it. You’ve never had to hide how awful you are."

The words stabbed you. Sure, you were harsh, but you didn’t hide it.

"No one expects everything from you. I can’t go there and prove I’m not who they want me to be."

You grabbed his face, forcing him to look at you.

"Please… Yo. Think about it. I know you. I know you want to do this."

You kissed him. Somehow, you ended up flat on his bed, staring up at him.

"What if I don’t make it?"

"Then I’ll be here. Waiting for you."

He left a week later.

(You shoved him onto that train yourself when he tried to run.)

You waited.

And when the U-20 match finally arrived, you were there.

You watched from the stands, gripping the railing, heart pounding. And when they won—when Hiori won—you didn’t even think.

You ran.

You vaulted the barrier, sprinting onto the field before security could stop you. Hiori turned just in time for you to jump on him, arms around his shoulders, legs around his waist.

"See? I told you!" You grinned, pressing a hard, breathless kiss to his lips.

His hands steadied you, holding you up with ease. And when he pulled back, you saw it.

A real smile. Not the one he gave everyone else.

Just for you.

"Thank you," he said, voice quiet beneath the roar of the crowd. "For everything."

And maybe, just maybe, the world would see this Hiori Yo one day. But for now, only you knew who he truly was.

i think i hate this? but i can't tell

likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!

❀ tags: ❀ @kenyuukissme ❀ @irethepotato ❀ join the taglist here !

⋆.˚✮ 2025 ©airybcby ✮˚.⋆

[twopoppies]

This isn’t really a question, more of a comment, and I consider your blog a safe space to share it: It seems like there’s a consensus in some part of the fandom about Harry, where people assume he was planning his solo career since 2013, that he betrayed the other boys, and that being ‘the chosen one’ by Sony, the Azoffs, and everyone around him has made his life easier. Because of that, people think he doesn’t deserve any sympathy and that he’s to blame for everything. I used to think this way at one point, too.

Now that I’m back, looking at things in retrospect and trying to understand a few other things, I realize how limited (and I’d say harmful) that perspective is. Here, I’ll add a disclaimer: I’m not denying that Harry had an advantage over the others, or that he made mistakes, etc. I’m just trying to understand things better within the context they happened in.

So, it’s 2010, Harry starts in the industry at 16, and from the start it’s clear he’s a pretty domestic, naive, quirky, friendly person with a big heart. And on top of that, he’s physically attractive. Put all those traits together, and you’ve got the perfect target, your moneymaker. You’ve got this young teenager who’s perfect to draw in a huge female audience. So, what do I do as a smart and evil businessman? I decide to milk him for all he’s worth and make more and more money from my new asset.

Now fast forward to late 2012-early 2013. You’ve got a closeted Harry, clearly sad and exhausted from not being able to love and live freely, and from the workload. Then he meets Jeff. What does he do as the son of one of the most successful managers in the industry? He applies what he's learned, sees the potential in this kid, and offers him what he wants most—not just money and more fame, but something way more valuable: freedom.

Add to that, apparently, everyone wants to be your friend because you’re the new hot thing, everyone ‘advises’ you, everyone wants something from you. But most of all, you have a lot of people whispering in your ear about what to do or not to do, and you don’t know who to trust, so you trust those who, even though they’ve asked for something in return, have given you protection and promised you freedom. Those who make you feel safe and have protected your relationship.

Suddenly, you’re in the media more and more, meeting really interesting famous people, but at the same time, the closet gets tighter, the physical separations get longer, and everything becomes unbearable. You just want to be at peace with your boyfriend and make music. And you can’t take it anymore. And then, there are probably other, much more personal things he was dealing with.

What I’m trying to say with all this is that just because Harry was ‘the chosen one’ from the start doesn’t mean he had the best time of his life while watching his bandmates suffer. Just because he has a smile on his face most of the time doesn’t mean we know what he’s feeling. We don’t know him personally.

I know Harry’s in a different and better situation now than when he started. I know he has more control over some things (or at least I hope he does), and I think that’s because he learned from what happened in the band. He literally said he only started processing a lot of things from that time in 2020-2021.

To wrap this up, I just want to say they were all really young when they started, and I can’t even imagine what else they went through. I'm 24 and I still don't know how to deal with a lot of things. I’m just tired of people comparing their suffering and judging based on that.

I know exactly who you’re talking about with that framing of Harry’s story. The person who started it is a bitter ex-larrie and it’s such nonsense (as you very clearly lay out) but they’ve amassed a big following and that side of the fandom has festered into a nasty cauldron of hate.

Harry’s ability to make everything look easy, and to appear as though he’s weathered his trauma without any lasting damage, makes him a target to people who are angry at the level of critical/financial success he’s had.

Instead of just accepting that he was given more opportunities because people in power saw more potential to make money off of him (for whatever host of reasons), and he had the talent and drive to run with it instead of being crushed by it, they’d prefer to paint a ridiculous story about him being evil, corrupt, talentless, and unsupportive of his bandmates.

Oh, and also, anything good ever said him is due to NDAs and Jeff buying articles praising him. 🙄

[homestuckreplay]

You Wouldn’t Captchalogue A Baby

(page 1633-1640)

John Egbert I am talking to you directly. I love you but you are an absolute fool. You are out here, going on a dangerous and ill-advised time mission which is going to put you in a fight against an enemy far above your skill level, and you decide that the correct thing to do in this situation is to

TAKE A CHILD WITH YOU????

TG: ok well it definitely sounds like youre fucking something up over there TG: but alright later (p.1637)

^ this is the most correct dave strider has ever been. CAPTCHALOGUE CASEY???? And then go into a fight? Where you often purposefully OR ACCIDENTALLY weaponize your sylladex and eject random items at a foe? You’re gonna use Casey as a weapon? Hey, what if you die? What happens to the items in your sylladex when you fucking die? I don’t know and I don’t think you do either!! Like to say nothing of the ethics of captchaloguing a living creature, and how it must feel for someone to be flattened into existing in an abstract card in someone’s abstract inventory, think about this. Would you take a baby into an endgame fight? A human baby? No? Then don’t do this!!!!

Okay I’m back talking to everyone else now (but seriously, this shit is crazy, I’m having a crisis thinking about the experience of being captchalogued). This is a pretty big moment for John as he blasts off to the seventh gate, but there’s also a few smaller reveals that are worth discussing first.

First, the trolls have a hacker! John immediately thinks this troll is the coolest, and if this troll is anything like the hackers in Hackers (1995) then I would agree. I looked at the trolls’ usernames again and none of them suggest computers or hacking with the exception of terminallyCapricious – ‘terminal’ could relate to a Sburb terminal/computer terminal, in addition to being a modifier for ‘capricious’, so I think he’s the hacker troll.

Next, Dave makes it into the Medium! I always speak too soon about these things – the kids are not currently synced up, and Dave is messaging from probably five minutes in the future, because knowing him he definitely messages John immediately upon entry before he bothers exploring. His sprite, who has already shown an affinity for warm, soft puppets to build a nest with (p.1507), wants to be prototyped with something specific. And the sprites seem to like animal and humanoid forms while dodging inanimate objects (p.275-80), so this can only be Lil Cal, right? Or the top half of him? It’s gonna be Cal’s face and hat with wings, a beak and a sword and I’m gonna quit reading Homestuck because we’ll have to hear him talk.

Rose is asleep following her conversation with Jade, trying to wake herself up on Derse. It’s also well after midnight her time – she’s probably a late sleeper in general because she lives in a timezone ahead of her friends and is trying to be more on their schedules, but even so, I’d say it’s her bedtime. The existence of dream selves mean sleep is a mechanic in Sburb, and a way for the kids to access game locations that would be much harder to reach while awake. It must be challenging to find a safe place to sleep when players’ houses and lands are infested with imps and other enemies, but, it seems like players need to sleep in Sburb both biologically and to progress in the game. This might be linked to the sprites’ focus on food, if players also still need to eat, and to the real world experience of playing video games or talking in a chatroom, where at some point it’s necessary to log off and take care of your physical body.

The rocket pack having the code PCHOOOOO is pretty funny, and suggests conscious intent (perhaps even a sense of humor?) to whatever’s assigning captcha codes, likely Skaia. It also suggests that the kids should try punching cards with words and sounds, and see what happens. If you want to make a tea kettle it’s worth at least trying the code WHEEEEEE. Or, what if you punched SBURB413? That’s gotta be something important, right? Or something so absolutely useless as to be an intentional prank. If I had an alchemiter I’d be punching cards with every eight letter word I know and every imaginable set of knuckle tats.

Back to John’s blasting off, I have some pretty mixed feelings about his decision here, which kind of boil down to: I think it’s a stupid plan, but I don’t disagree with his choice to do it.

I really love the way John and GC bounce off each other, but I wish they could talk with lower stakes. I feel like John has been coerced into this plan because GC wants to try messing with the timeline, and I too am curious to learn more about how the timeline works, but I really don’t see what’s in this for John. Best case scenario, changing the timeline doesn’t have adverse effects in itself and John successfully kills the denizen in its sleep, but he still hasn’t fulfilled his quest (which requires him to wake the denizen) and he’s stuck underleveled in a late game area waiting who knows how long for his friends to catch up. Worst case scenario, probably far reaching destabilization of the universe due to significantly changing the timeline.

However, the kids have been told by the trolls over and over again that they fuck everything up in this game (p.859), and John must be scared of that bad outcome – such that the chance of a better outcome might be worth risking a worse one. Then again, I think the trolls have more power here, and are purposely withholding knowledge both of the game itself and of exactly how these kids fuck it up. John isn’t making an informed decision here, he’s just faced with a strong personality who has carefully handpicked information to present a believable case.

That said, I’m really reluctant to take away John’s agency in this moment – even if there’s some coercion, ultimately GC has no way of forcing him into this. And the determination on his face in this very cool panel (p.1640) makes it clear that he’s moved past uncertainty. He’s thousands of miles in the air in an untested rocket pack, not looking back, and after thirteen years of feeling trapped in his bedroom and his shitty suburban life and society’s idea of ‘normal’, it’s SO cathartic to see him move and act and break the rules. It’s a bad decision but it’s a conscious decision, it’s very different to bumbling around the Medium following Rose and Nannasprite’s cryptic instructions because he doesn’t know what he’s doing.

John figuring out punch card alchemy and making the pogo hammer (p.629-35) was his first big moment of taking action, and this is his second. After a lifetime of inaction he finally gets to say I’m going to take a bold step. I am going to do something reckless and radical, because I’m tired of playing it safe. I need to take charge and see if things could be different. So even though I’m concerned about her motivations and willingness to mess with people’s lives, I think GC is kind of good for John, as she brings out that side of him in a way that the other beta kids really don’t.

[dasiesanddarkness]

hoping to make someone cry so here’s the first chapter of my fic (it doesnt have a name but i posted a summary a little while ago that you can find here) thats all angst, all hurt no comfort. enjoy :)

“What are you doing?”

“Going to Nina’s.”

Wylan flinched, but Jesper hadn’t been looking to see it. He just grabbed his keys from the dish by the door, the one Wylan had put there months ago to keep Jesper from leaving them around their apartment and losing them, and walked out. The door slammed behind him, but Wylan didn’t jump. He didn’t blink, he barely breathed. He waited for Jesper to walk back in, to drop his keys back into the little bowl and smile that sad smile so Wylan could say he was sorry. Jesper would apologize too, because he always did, and Wylan would say it was okay, that they’d go to sleep and talk about it in the morning. They’d fall asleep curled up against each other and talk about it the next morning over coffee and pancakes Jesper would probably burn because he forgot they were still on the stove. It would be okay, because Jesper wouldn’t leave him. Because Jesper had promised, over a year ago, that he would never leave him.

Jesper never walked back through the door.

Wylan’s phone was still sitting on the floor from when he’d dropped it earlier. He picked it up, vaguely recognized the color of Nina’s contact in a notification on his screen through the blur of tears, and turned it off. He dropped it again, back to the floor so he wouldn’t be tempted to turn it on again until the morning.

Jesper had promised he wouldn’t leave him.

Wylan had not made keeping that promise easy. He couldn’t count the times he’d been too cruel, too distant, too tetchy. He couldn’t count the times he’d apologized, or the times Jesper had accepted his apology with a smile and a kiss. He couldn’t count the times he’d tried to push Jesper away, or the times Jesper hadn’t budged an inch, always whispering the same words.

“I won’t ever leave you. There’s nothing you could do to make me. Promise.”

Wylan’s therapist had told him to find something that calmed him, that was easy and manageable when most of his energy was taken up by thinking the same destructive thoughts on repeat. Wylan had found making tea helped. He couldn’t bring himself to walk to the kitchen.

He ended up in their guest room. He didn’t want to see their bed, empty because Jesper hadn’t kept his promise. Because Wylan had finally made doing so too difficult to be worth the payoff at the end. He didn’t want to see the shirts strewn across their floor or the jumble of rings next to their sink. He might die if he did, might shrivel up and wilt because Jesper had promised he wouldn’t leave him. Jesper had promised he wouldn’t leave him. Jesper had left him.

Wylan had no doubt he’d wake up to a still empty apartment and texts from his friends. He didn’t want their pity, but craved their attention. He was destructive like that. He took advantage of what people offered him, held it too tight in greedy hands until they got sick of him and took it back. There was no one to blame for this but himself. If he hadn’t been so stupid, so annoying and stubborn and fucking awful, Jesper might still be here. He might have kept his promise.

He wished he was mad. It would be so much easier to hate Jesper for leaving, or for starting the fight, or to call Inej and vent about all the ways Jesper had fucked up, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t, because he’d known this would happen eventually. He’d known that Jesper would realize that he was better off without the endless baggage Wylan carried, without his constant mood swings and bad temper and countless failings. It was astonishing Jesper had kept him around as long as he had. But Wylan had been certain that one day his endless patience would run out, and he’d been right. He’d been right, and he couldn’t be mad about it, only grateful it hadn’t happened sooner.

Even in their guest bedroom, he can’t escape the memory of Jesper. The sheets were purple, and the comforter a paisley green. Both had been Jesper’s pick, and Wylan had been too smitten to even consider saying no. Looking at them, feeling them, being near them, made him feel sick, but he needed to sleep. If he was asleep he couldn’t think about the millions of ways he’d fucked up, or hope Jesper would come back and be disappointed when he never did.

Laying in bed alone was hard. He’d done it since they started dating, but it was different now. It was different because before, he’d had Jesper’s contact open, the voice messages about how much he missed him playing on repeat. He’d had some kind of security in the knowledge that they would be reunited soon. That as weird as it was to sleep alone, it wouldn’t be forever. He had no such comfort now.

It took hours for him to finally fall asleep, but eventually, he managed. When he woke up, Jesper still had not returned.

[anaxaswaist]

All for citrine pleas!!

Is there a canon character that your OC needs to ask forgiveness towards?

Jade assures Citadel that they have nothing to worry about anymore, that they’ve proven their worth, and as long as they continue to do so, that they are valuable—to him, at the very least, and that’s enough for them to keep their place in the IPC. Even so, they wouldn’t be here without her in the first place… they will forever be in her debt. They can never do or say enough.

What is the worst thing your OC does in their story?

Citadel didn’t want it to come to this. She’s sorry, she’s so sorry, but this planet is so barren, and she’s so hungry, and meat is meat. That’s what she’s always been taught. They’d be proud. They would. They made her into this, carved it into her with their claws and their teeth. They did not tell her that they would be back. Had they, her fur would not be matted and bloodied around her maw. When they finally return, intent to welcome the survivor—the weak who had, by then and by force, grown strong—she was long gone.

What is your OC’s “darkness moment” in the plot?

Their fingers twitch, claws digging into his waist, scrunching the previously-wrinkleless fabric of his silk pajamas. Their teeth ache, a dull reminder simmering in the roots, and the rest of their body follows suit; uncomfortable, bones splintering, skin itchy, too tight. They almost want something more: to sink their claws in, to break skin with their mouth. It waters. They hate it. “I’m sorry, the pill shipment is going to be late,” he says, turning half-way to face them. He runs a hand through their hair, and they sigh, ears flat to their head. “But I’m sure you knew that already.” “I know,” they murmur, strained. “Just… maybe you should go. You… probably don’t want to be around me when it… when it happens, right?” Even so, they bury their face in the crook of his neck and take a deep breath, savoring the lack of perfume, and their tail wraps around his leg where they’re curled together under the blankets. He’s the one to extricate himself from their grip.

What canon character gets annoyed by your OC?

Dr. Ratio scoffs and turns his head. “Must you always glare at me? You’re truly an idiot if you still think I had any intention of actually double-crossing him.”

Which canon character respects your OC most? What gained that respect?

Aventurine has always been his own savior; the one to dig himself out of his own hells with his own dirtied nails. For Citrine to throw themselves in front of him, no matter what, despite the risks, despite the fact that they’re way more likely to get hurt than he is, despite how much he knows they want to live, too… It’s almost foolish—a sure-fire way to get yourself killed—and it should not have survived within the walls of the Preservation, considering that everyone here lives for themselves, but it did. It’s a selflessness he can’t help but admire, despite how much he hates it.

[yokumirumerafan]

Hi i hope this isn’t a bother but can you do that Y/N found a wounded animal and forces the character to take care of it with them (with the uppermoons, Muzan, Tamayo and Yushiro)

Please and thank you :)

Upper Moons, Muzan, Tamayo, and Yushiro would react to Y/N finding a wounded animal and forcing them to take care of it together

📌 Post Info: 💬 Request: Y/N finds a wounded animal and forces the characters to take care of it with them 👥 Characters Included: Upper Moons, Muzan, Tamayo, Yushiro, + Hashira (Sanemi & Obanai added for drama 😭) 🌎 AUs Used: Canonverse 📖 Summary: Y/N stumbles upon an injured animal and, without a second thought, forces certain Demon Slayer characters (and demons) to help take care of it. Some react calmly. Some… not so much.

🌑 Muzan Kibutsuji Disgusted. "Why would I, the Demon King, care for a weak, insignificant creature?" Tries to ignore it, but if Y/N insists (or gives him the silent treatment), he just sighs and lets them do what they want. "Fine, but it stays away from me." Cue the animal immediately liking him. Secretly watches Y/N care for it and starts wondering why they care so much. Might even start seeing a weird parallel to his past life. 🌒 Kokushibo At first, he doesn't react much. Just stares at the small, wounded thing in Y/N's hands. “...If this is your will, then so be it.” (a.k.a. he just follows along bc he respects Y/N) Ends up silently tending to the animal when Y/N isn’t looking. Pretends not to care, but definitely does. If it’s something small like a bird or rabbit, he finds a quiet place for it to rest. 🌓 Doma “OH?! A tiny helpless creature? JUST LIKE YOU, Y/N~!” Immediately dramatic about it and pretends to be a “loving father” to the animal. "We'll nurse it back to health together, and it will become our cult pet! Oh, this is WONDERFUL!" Accidentally overstimulates the poor thing by holding it too much. Y/N has to stop him. Loses interest after a while, but pretends to still care just to make Y/N happy. 🌔 Akaza “Tch. It’s weak. Let it die.” Absolutely refuses at first. Says it’s not worth the time. But Y/N gives him THE LOOK. And suddenly, he’s holding the tiniest, most fragile thing in his big hands. "I don’t see the point of this." (But he’s secretly protecting it from the cold.) If it gets better, he’ll say, “Good. Now it can survive on its own.” (But he’s lowkey proud.) 🌕 Gyutaro "Ya really think a piece of filth like me should be takin’ care of somethin’ so fragile?" Lowkey scared to touch it. He thinks he’ll hurt it. Y/N is patient with him, and he actually ends up being super gentle with it. Gets attached. “Damn thing’s kinda cute, I guess.” If anyone tries to hurt the animal? He’ll MURDER them. 🌖 Kaigaku "Ugh, why me?!" Complains the most but still helps. Acts like it’s a huge burden, but Y/N notices him secretly making sure it’s warm. "Tch, whatever. If it dies, don’t come crying to me." (Literally the first one to panic when it looks sick.) If it survives? He’s just like, “Of course it lived. It had me.” Tamayo Instantly goes into doctor mode. “Poor thing… Let’s clean the wound first.” Super gentle and efficient. Probably has some kind of herbal remedy for it. Gives Y/N an approving smile, happy to see their kindness. "It will be alright. You have a good heart, Y/N." Yushiro "Why do you care? It's just an animal." Complains like crazy but still helps. If Y/N is sad over it, he gets pissed at whoever hurt it. "Tch. Whoever did this is a waste of space." Ends up being the best at keeping it calm and stable. Pretends to be annoyed but actually proud of himself for saving it.

Eheheh also I feel like I should do some of the Hashira, I'm thinking of Sanemi and Obanai, because everyone else would react calmly except these mfs <33

🐍 Obanai Iguro & 🌪️ Sanemi Shinazugawa React to Y/N Forcing Them to Care for a Wounded Animal

🐍 Obanai Iguro "Absolutely not." The second Y/N shoves the small, wounded animal in his arms, he freezes like he just got cursed. “I am not touching that thing. It’s filthy.” Y/N does not care. They just wrap it in a cloth and shove it at him again. Kaburamaru sniffs it. Now he’s conflicted because if his snake isn’t hissing at it, it must be harmless. “…Fine. But you’re the one feeding it.” (Spoiler: He totally feeds it.) Lowkey protects it without realizing it. If anyone else tries to touch it, he glares. “You’ll scare it. Back off.” Will never admit he cares but will stab someone for it. 🌪️ Sanemi Shinazugawa IMMEDIATE LOUD REACTION. “THE HELL IS THIS?! YOU THINK I GOT TIME FOR A DAMN ANIMAL?!” CROSSES HIS ARMS AND REFUSES. “Not my problem.” Y/N gives him the biggest death glare. Y/N: “Sanemi. Pick it up. Now.” Sanemi: Grumbles, picks it up aggressively like it’s a sack of rice. Instant regret. "Shit, it's shivering—WHAT DO I DO?!" Panics but refuses to show it. Calls Y/N dumb for caring but is the first to keep it warm. “Tch. If it dies, I ain’t takin’ responsibility.” (He’s totally taking responsibility.) If it survives, he acts like it was all Y/N’s doing. Secretly checks up on it when Y/N isn’t looking.

😭 THESE TWO WOULD BE THE MOST DRAMATIC FOR NO REASON. I LOVE THEM. Hope you enjoy, bae!! 💖

[dayntee]

Thank you for pointing out how clearly rooted Sakura’s character is in issues surrounding self worth and confidence.

I think it’s one of the reasons I love her so much as a character. I relate to living this way:

- Constantly fighting against the thought of never being enough, no matter how much you do or how hard you work

- Always feeling like everyone else sees you as lesser for just wanting to be who you want to be

- Judged harshly for wearing her feelings on her sleeve, and even harder when she bottles those emotions up and hiding them away; she can’t win no matter how or who she chooses to be

- Eventually being seen one day as strong, but living for so long under the shadow of inferiority complex that the only one who can’t see it is her

- Even in the face of finally being with the man she loves, having a child and a life with him, still somehow doubting that she has earned her place or believing she doesn’t deserve any of the things that have come her way; that she’s still, despite having her everything, not enough herself

Haruno Sakura is a survivor of bullying, at the end of the day. In her world, she was bullied as a kid and teen, but in our world, she continues to be bullied as an adult, pointed to as a character undeserving of any progress or arc she experiences because… why exactly? I’m not sure I’ve ever really heard a compelling reason.

She’s sad? Yeah, she’s been through some shit. She’s allowed to be sad.

She whines? Man, she’s a preteen girl being trained as a fucking child warrior. I can’t say I’d not whine at least a little bit in her position. If anything, she’s the most real for it.

She’s too obsessed with her crush? Fuck, have you ever met a teenage girl with a crush? This shit is 1000% normal, and Ino, Hinata, and Karin don’t get any of the same flak for this same flaw.

It might be why I’m so defensive about her in particular. It feels a bit like a personal attack when what she’s being hated for is… having normal emotions and not being afraid to express them, even in the face of external judgement?

Haruno Sakura is a goddamn boss, and arguably one of the better female heroines we’ve seen written by a dude in shonen series, even with the whiffs and mistakes Kishimoto’s made with her. All things considered, for better or worse, if there’s one thing she does well, it’s elicit an emotional response from the audience.

Is she perfect? No! But I wouldn’t have it any other way, because perfect characters are boring and flawed ones are the ones where we find ourselves and build a relatable, emotional connection.

And if you hate me for it? Too fucking bad. I’ll never be more proud that she was probably the best cosplay I’ve ever done, and I will love her and her emotionally stunted husband until the end of time.

Happy birthday, baby girl.

Happy Birthday, Sakura. You deserve better.

You know me and Sakura have a troubled history together, but I will say, just for today, I really want to make peace with all this. Because, the more time passed, the more I realized, I was a dumbass for hating her this much to begin with. Since I neglected to remind myself of this shot of her, right here:

It may not seem like much, but remember the full context behind Sakura's tears here. Naruto is down in the dumps, but for her, it's not a mere obsession with Sasuke that makes her react this way, that's oversimplifying it in the worst way possible. And I say this, because let us not forget:

She feels responsible for this entire mess to begin with.

This is why she is crying. Put yourself in her shoes for a second, leaving all your personal disdain for her character side, imagine:

The love of your life left, for reasons, far beyond your control, making you feel like, not even your feelings for him could make him stay

The entire retrieval mission that you have insinuated, because you want him to see reason, and it ending in failure

Even worse than that, all the shinobi sent to bring him back, return crippled, like, being in the worst state imagineable, and you feel responsible, because they nearly died for a guy, you always believed in

She trained her ass off for three whole years, she became this strong, hoping to no longer be a liability

But what happens? It worked against one Akatsuki, but against the boy she loves, she couldn't do anything, he was way too strong

And let us not forget, before even getting there, your friend nearly injured you, losing complete control over his own emotions, feeling like a failure for not being able to bring your love, who is also his bro, back home, and the promise puts so much pressure on him

And then, they fail AGAIN

All this circus, all this hard work, just HOPING to do something, only for it to end in failure.

Again.

And again.

And again.

AND AGAIN.

Now tell me, would you still be able to keep your tears from falling by that point? And questioning your sanity, and your abilities and self-worth? Because those had always been major weaknesses of Sakura. So, losing THIS badly again, must have broken her spirit in ways, that is tough to comprehend. As always, she feels useless, despite having become stronger and better as a person and shinobi, and yet, her best is just not good enough.

Also, I want you to put this in perspective, on all the reasons why you may hate her:

She loves Sasuke? Simp.

She never returns Naruto's feelings, despite him fighting so hard for her, despite her clearly not being interested? Thot.

She literally healed thousands of shinobi in her lifetime, especially during the war, saving Naruto's and countless other lives in the process? Still useless.

And every time someone tries to speak positively of her, all you do is consistently undermine her, even if she is right, or she does something cool and realistic, ALL. THE. TIME.

You consistently bring up "she treats Naruto badly", as if Naruto has ALWAYS been the innocent angel, considering how pushy he can be about his feelings towards her (she talked shit about Naruto as an orphan, ohhh, but let's conveniently forget that Naruto used the Transformation Jutsu to impersonate Sasuke, hoping to get a kiss from her, that's definitely not creepy at all!) and just, in general, being a complete asswipe at times, without even realizing it.

Please, give her another chance, and try to be lenient with her, even if not everything is put into pages or words about her character, considering how badly she has been fighting with feelings of inadequacy, never bringing the desired results, and yet still receiving hate from everyone in the fandom:

Think, before you start hating.

Happy Birthday, Sakura.

Someone like you is entirely wasted on the author and fandom you are stuck with.

PEACE.

[walkingstackofbooks]

Great response to that salty Jezri ask - but I'll be honest, I think it's funny when Jezri fans charge that a lack of interest in the ship is misogyny. Most people I've known outside the Internet who have watched DS9 are not into shipping and fandom at all, and they also think the Julian/Ezri romance was really half-assed and the actors didn't have much chemistry. You don't have to be a Garashir fan to feel that way. And Ezri was a character with a lot of potential where the writers often failed to deliver on that potential, one of the ways being in tying up so much of her storylines in the question of which of these three guys who was into Jadzia she is going to pick... There is misogyny in slash fandom, but along with how ridiculous it is to be jumpy about someone not writing your preferred character as the focus in ONE fanfic, I think people often accuse slash fiction writers when the real problem is a show itself that was underinvested in its female characters. DS9 did at least give Kira one of its strongest character arcs, but other than that it tended to sell the women rather short and define them around their romances. Fanfiction writers who would prefer to focus on Julian or Garak (who was better developed as a character than either Dax despite not even being a series regular! and I say this as a Jadzia stan myself) are responding to what the show gave us more than anything.

I'm someone who has often really enjoyed what the fandom has done with Ezri, and has written a lot about her in my own fanfic. But I think some people don't want to acknowledge how much it's been the fandom doing that work, not the original show. (Also, as I said in replies, the point of your fic seemed to be about the issues with Jezri - and most of it was from Ezri's perspective? Weird place to mention that it was "undermining" her. Female characters not being perfect people is not "undermining" them, and honestly, the tendency to put women on a pedestal is not really any more sexist than demonizing them. But her just not being attracted to the "best" version of Julian Bashir doesn't even make her that terrible of a person in my opinion? She wants someone who she can rescue - okay that defines a lot of people. And I love loquacious hyperfixation Julian but as someone who shares those traits with him, I also know they can be irritating to a lot of people. Can't say I've never been irritated by a fellow autistic people going on about something I don't personally care about, even!)

I mean, I LOVE Jezri. I think it's really cute, I think they're adorable friends and it makes total sense they're tumbling into each other's arms - I don't think they're a made-to-last romance, but what they have is very sweet, and I always got the feeling that Julian was one of her friends who most saw her as Ezri, and not as Jadzia. I don't get the "they don't have chemistry" thing, because they made each other laugh, and were good at comforting each other, and I just love them.

(Misogyny of wrapping all her storylines up in "who's she gonna pick?" though - yeaaaa. I hate that Jezri happens because of that. Gah.)

Yeah, there's always going to be that criticism. I mean, I do think it's partially valid - there are a whole bunch of fanfics that do treat Ezri terribly to get her out of the way of the ship. But at the same time, most of those do skew older in writing date - and if that's what you have a problem with, make your own post, right?

Though, tbh, idk what their problem was. I've realised I wrote a different fic where Julian breaks down about his confused feelings for an off-screen Ezri that it could have been about. I've made a number of headcanon-y posts about Ezri being aro and not realising and having trouble interpreting Jadzia's allo feelings through an aro lens, so it could also be good old-fashioned aphobia 🤷‍♀️ Or, you know, maybe they were just taking out their frustration at the lack of their ship in this fandom in a really bad way (I get it, but just block the Garashir tag for a couple of days when you're getting burnt out by it, y'know? 😅)

I dunno, it's a weird one. I mean, for one thing, all my fics to date - one promptfill aside - are gen, unless they're explicit darkfic. For another, I want to write angsty Julian-centred h/c, and what I like about Jezri is that it's sweet and fluffy, so even if I were writing romance I'd probably go somewhere else.

Sorry, this has definitely become a ramble, but thanks for the ask!

(Honestly, if it was that fic, the point of it wasn't even to say that Ezri was at fault for Julian's quieter side! It's only a short, rushed thing, so maybe fair enough if it comes across that way - but the main point was that Julian's been depressed for a very long time, and is still depressed, and it's not Ezri's fault for not noticing, because she's only known him as a quieter, more reserved guy... And hinting at endgame Mikoshir, too, sure, but that's never exclusive...)

[arcane-ish]

I have some sympathy and I have evoked "don't put anti-ship stuff in the ship" tag, but other than that, tumblr tag policing has always been weird to me. XD

For what it's worth the "doylist"/meta explanation of "why do people headcanon that about Ekko" is probably something like:

"People who like Vi and particularly CaitVi want Vi to be loved, not hated"

This can be seen in universe: "Vi has lost so much and been hurt so much, I want to think characters would be nice to her rather than she goes through all this only to get dunked and hated on by some of the last few people still in her life, like Ekko and Warwick".

And here you can argue whether Ekko is "fair game" to headcanon like that (and that's where things like "well what about Vander, what about Heimerdinger, what about Jinx" come in). And I do think Arcane fans don't have an obligation to be loyal to League lore if they don't want to and within what we saw in the show Ekko has voiced some things (particularly in his s1x07 conversation with Caitlyn and Vi, but he hasn't been as aggressive as he's in League). And emotionally the "why" is probably quite obvious. If you love Vi and sympathize with Vi, of course it seems easy to you to imagine and headcanon that other characters might, too.

(for what it's worth, I do think the other side is possible, that you come at it from the Ekko point of view, look at the end of Arcane as Ekko being heartbroken and alone and want him to have a positive relationship with like the one person from his childhood who is left (presuming he doesn't know about Jinx and Warwick or presuming that they are actually dead) and who is in a similar situation of having lost these people who mattered to them. I personally have hoped for people to cover in fic that Vi and Ekko talk and share some info, though personally "Ekko approves of Vi being an enforcer" was not really on my list of post finale interactions I was craving)

And outside of the fictional universe, I think there's a bit of a weird dynamic within fandom where Ekko is kind of used as the moral yardstick. Kind of "see, even Ekko says so and so is okay" because he is "the unproblematic fave (tm)". Which I personally think is a bit silly? Because there is not proof that the writers thought of Ekko as their moral yardstick/mouthpiece character, and even if they did that doesn't mean you have to agree with them and within universe Ekko even acknowledges that sometimes he misjudges people.

This is a legitimate question but why do some of you believe that Ekko would understand Vi's reasoning for becoming an enforcer? Why do some of you truly think that he would have been able to look past that and still have a good relationship with her?

Ekko's character, whether it be in the show or in the game does not like enforcers. He would not be willing to look past Vi joining an oppressive group of people simply because she had her reasons for putting that uniform on and becoming one of them.

And one thing I've noticed is that whenever people mention that Ekko wouldn't be able to remain close to Vi because she became an enforcer, someone always says "he forgave Jinx for working with Silco so why wouldn't he be able to forgive Vi?" Vi as an adult made the decision to put on that uniform and work with the same group of people who play a part in oppressing and harming Zaunites for years.

And no this is not me criticizing Vi, she's one of my favorite characters in the show and I feel like she's very misunderstood. We know why she made the decision she made but you can't expect Ekko to understand why she made that choice especially since he and Vi were not as close as they once were before Vander, Clogged and Mylo died.

[cloudinal]

Guess who's been getting into KH lately